Malchus pressed his lips to Sapho’s ear. ‘I’ve seen enough. Let’s go.’
Even in the corridor outside, with the door closed, the din was incredible. Although it was now possible to talk, father and son looked at each other in silence for long moments.
Malchus spoke first. ‘He could still be alive. They both could.’ Rare tears glinted in his eyes.
Sapho felt bad for Hanno. Drowning was one thing, but fighting as a gladiator? He hardened his heart. ‘They won’t be for long. It’s a mercy in a way.’
Unaware of Sapho’s motivations, Malchus clenched his jaw. ‘You’re right. We can do no more than to hope that they died well. Let us join Hannibal Barca’s army in Iberia, and wage war on Rome. One day, we will bring ruination, fire and death to Capua. Then, vengeance will be ours.’
Sapho looked stunned. ‘Hannibal would invade Italy?’
‘Yes,’ replied Malchus. ‘That is his long-term plan. To defeat the enemy on their own soil. I am one of only a handful of men who know this. Now you are another.’
‘The secret is safe with me,’ whispered Sapho. Obviously, he and Bostar had not been party to all of the information carried by Hannibal’s messenger. Finally, he understood his father’s threat to raze Capua. ‘Our revenge will come one day,’ he muttered, thinking of the golden opportunities to prove his worth that would arise.
‘Speak after me,’ ordered Malchus. ‘Before Melqart, Baal Saphon and Baal Hammon, I make this vow. With all my might, I will support Hannibal Barca on his quest. I will find Hanno, or die avenging him.’
Slowly, Sapho repeated the words.
Satisfied, Malchus led the way outside.
The screaming continued unabated behind them.
Chapter VI: Servitude
Near Capua, Campania
Hanno trudged despondently behind Agesandros’ mule, swallowing the clouds of dust sent up by those in front. Ahead of the Sicilian was the litter containing Atia and Aurelia, and beyond that, in the lead, were Fabricius and Quintus. It was the morning following his purchase by Quintus, and, after spending the night at Martialis’ house, the family was returning to their farm. During their short stay, Hanno had been left in the kitchen with the resident household slaves. Dazed, still unable to believe that he had been separated from Suniaton, he had simply slumped in a corner and wept. Other than placing a loincloth, a beaker of water and a plate of food beside him, no one had offered him any comfort. Hanno would remember their curious stares afterwards, however. No doubt it was something they had all seen countless times before: the new slave, who realises that his life will never be the same again. It had probably happened to most of them. Mercifully, sleep had finally found Hanno. His rest had been fitful, but it had provided him with an escape of sorts: the possibility of denying reality.
Now, in the cold light of day, he had to face up to it.
He belonged to Quintus’ father, Fabricius. Like his family, Suni was gone for ever.
Hanno still didn’t know what to make of his master. Since a cursory examination when they had first returned to Martialis’ house, Fabricius had paid him little heed. He had accepted his son’s explanation that, because of his literacy and skill with languages, the Carthaginian was worth his high purchase price, the balance of which Quintus was paying anyway. ‘It’s your business the way you spend your money,’ he’d said. He seemed decent enough, thought Hanno, as did Quintus. Aurelia was but a child. Atia, Fabricius’ wife, was an unknown quantity. So far, she’d barely even looked at him, but Hanno hoped that she would prove a fair mistress.
It was strange to be considering people whom he’d always considered evil as normal, yet it was Agesandros whom Hanno was most concerned about. The Sicilian had taken a set against him from the beginning. For all his concerns, at least his own situation had a positive side to it, for which he felt immensely guilty. Suniaton’s fate still hung by a thread, and Hanno could only ask every god he knew to intercede on his friend’s behalf. At the worst, to let him die bravely.
Hearing the word ‘Saguntum’ mentioned, he pricked his ears. A Greek city in Iberia, allied to the Republic, it had been the focus of Hannibal’s attention for months. Indeed, it was where the war on Rome would start.
‘I thought that the Senate had decided there was no real threat to Saguntum?’ asked Quintus. ‘After the Saguntines had demanded recompense for the attacks on their lands, all Hannibal did was to send them a rudely worded reply.’
Hanno hid his smirk. He’d heard that insult several weeks before, at home. ‘Scabby, flea-bitten savages,’ Hannibal had called the city’s residents. As everyone in Carthage knew, the rebuttal presaged his real plan: an attack on Saguntum.
‘Politicians sometimes underestimate generals,’ said Fabricius heavily. ‘Hannibal has done far more than issue threats now. According to the latest news, Saguntum is surrounded by his army. They’ve started building fortifications. It’s going to be a siege. Carthage has finally regained its bite.’
Quintus threw an angry glance at Hanno, who looked down at once. ‘Can nothing be done?’
‘Not this campaigning season,’ Fabricius replied crossly. ‘Hannibal couldn’t have picked a better moment. Both the consular armies are committed to the East, and the threat there.’
‘You mean Demetrius of Pharos?’ asked Quintus.
‘Yes.’
‘Wasn’t he an ally of ours until recently?’
‘He was. Then the miserable dog decided that piracy is more profitable. Our entire eastern seaboard has been affected. He’s been threatening Illyrian cities under the Republic’s protection too. But the trouble should be over by the autumn. Demetrius’ forces have no chance against four legions and double that number of socii.’
Quintus couldn’t hide his disappointment. ‘I’ll miss it all.’
‘Never fear. There’ll always be another war,’ said his father with an amused smile. ‘You’ll get your turn soon enough.’
Quintus was partly mollified. ‘Meanwhile, Saguntum just gets left to hang in the wind?’
‘It’s not right, I know,’ his father replied. ‘But the main faction in the Senate has decided that this is the course we shall follow. The rest of us have to obey.’
So much for Roman fides, thought Hanno contemptuously.
Father and son rode in silence for a few moments.
‘What will the Senate do if Saguntum falls?’ probed Quintus.
‘Demand that the Carthaginians withdraw, I imagine. As well as hand over Hannibal.’
Quintus’ eyebrows rose. ‘Would they do that?’
Never, thought Hanno furiously.
‘I don’t think so,’ Fabricius replied. ‘Even the Carthaginians have their pride. Besides, their Council of Elders will have known about Hannibal’s plan to besiege Saguntum. They’re hardly going to offer their support on that only to withdraw it immediately afterwards.’
Unseen, Hanno spat on to the road. ‘Damn right they’re not,’ he whispered.
‘Then war is unavoidable,’ Quintus cried. ‘The Senate won’t take an insult like that lying down.’
Fabricius sighed. ‘No, it won’t, even though it’s partly to blame for the whole situation. The indemnities forced on Carthage at the end of the last war were ruinous, but the seizure of Sardinia soon after was even worse. There was no excuse for it.’
Hanno could scarcely believe what he was hearing: a Roman express regret for what had been done to his people. Perhaps they weren’t all monsters? he wondered for the second time. His gut reaction weighed in at once. They are still the enemy.
‘That conflict was a generation ago,’ said Quintus, bridling. ‘This is now. Even if it comes late, Rome has to defend one of her allies who has been attacked without due cause.’
Fabricius inclined his head. ‘She does.’
‘So war with Carthage is coming, one way or another,’ said Quintus. He threw a further look at Hanno, who affected not to notice.
‘Probably,’ Fabricius replied. ‘Not this year perhaps, but next.’
‘I could be part of that!’ Quintus cried eagerly. ‘But I want to know how to use a sword properly first.’
