fourth day, he felt alert enough to venture outside. Fear stopped him, however. ‘Where’s Agesandros?’
Elira’s full lips flattened. ‘The whoreson is in Capua, thankfully.’
Relieved, Hanno shuffled outside. The yard was empty. All the slaves were at work in the fields. They sat down together in the sunshine and rested their backs against the cool stone of the stable walls. Hanno didn’t mind that there was no one around. It meant he could be alone with Elira, whose physical attractions were daily becoming more obvious. As the ache in his groin constantly told him, he hadn’t had a woman for many months. Yet merely to entertain such thoughts was dangerous. Even if Elira was willing, slaves were forbidden from having sexual relations with each other. What’s more, Hanno had seen the way she and Quintus looked at one another. Stay well away, he told himself sternly. Screwing the master’s son’s favourite slave would not be clever. There was a simpler way of satisfying himself. Less enjoyable, but far safer.
He needed something to take his mind off sex. ‘How did you come to be a slave?’
Elira’s surprise was instantly replaced by sadness. ‘That’s the first time anyone has asked me such a question.’
‘I guess it’s because we all have the same miserable story,’ said Hanno gently. He raised his eyebrows in an indication that she should continue.
Elira’s eyes took on a distant look. ‘I grew up in a little village by the sea in Illyricum. Most people were fishermen or farmers. It was a peaceful place. Until the day that the pirates came. I was nine years old.’ Her face darkened with anger, and sorrow. ‘The men fought hard, but they weren’t warriors. My father and my older brother, they…’ Her voice wobbled for a moment. ‘They were killed. But what happened to Mother was just as bad.’ Tears formed in her eyes.
Horrified, Hanno reached out to squeeze Elira’s hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.
She nodded, and the movement made the tears spill down her cheeks. ‘We were taken to their ships. They sailed to Italy and sold us there. I haven’t seen Mother or my sisters since.’
As Elira wept, Hanno cursed himself for opening his mouth. Yet the Illyrian’s sorrow made her even more attractive. It was hard not to imagine wrapping her in his arms to comfort her. He was therefore relieved to see Aurelia approaching from the direction of the villa. Nudging Elira, he scrambled to his feet. The Illyrian had barely enough time to pull her hair down around her face and wipe away her tears.
Aurelia felt a tinge of jealousy at seeing Elira so close to Hanno. ‘You’re up and about!’ she said tartly.
He bobbed his head. ‘Yes.’
‘How do you feel?’
Hanno touched his ribs. ‘Much better than I did a few days ago, thank you.’
Aurelia’s sympathy surged back at the sight of Hanno wincing. ‘It’s Elira you should be grateful to. She’s a marvel.’
‘She is,’ agreed Hanno, giving Elira a slanted grin.
The Illyrian blushed. ‘Julius will be wondering where I am,’ she muttered, before hurrying off.
Aurelia’s annoyance returned, but, irritated with herself for even feeling it, she dismissed it at once. ‘You’re Carthaginian, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Hanno replied warily. He’d never yet had a proper conversation with Fabricius or any of his family. In his mind, they were still very much the enemy.
‘What’s Carthage like?’
He couldn’t help himself. ‘It’s huge. Perhaps a quarter of a million people live there.’
Despite herself, Aurelia’s eyes widened. ‘But that’s far bigger than Rome!’
Hanno had the sense not to utter the sarcastic response that rose to his lips. ‘Indeed.’ Aurelia seemed interested, so he launched into a description of his city, picturing it in his mind’s eye as he did. Realising eventually that he had lost the run of himself, Hanno fell silent.
‘It sounds beautiful,’ Aurelia admitted. ‘And you looked so happy while you were talking.’
Feeling utterly homesick, Hanno stared at the ground.
‘It’s not surprising, I suppose,’ said Aurelia kindly. Looking curious, she tipped her head to one side. ‘I remember that you speak Greek as well as Latin. In Italy, only nobles learn that tongue. It must be much the same in Carthage. How did someone so well educated end up as a slave?’
Balefully, Hanno lifted his gaze to hers. ‘I forgot to ask a blessing of our most powerful goddess before I went on a fishing trip with my friend.’ He saw her enquiring expression. ‘Suni, the one you saw in Capua. After catching plenty of tunny, we drank some wine and fell asleep. A sudden storm took us far out to sea. Somehow, we survived the night, but the next day a pirate ship found us. We were sold in Neapolis, and taken to Capua to be sold as gladiators. Instead I was bought by your brother.’ Hanno hardened his voice. ‘Who knows what happened to my friend, though?’ He was pleased to see her flinch.
Annoyed, Aurelia recovered quickly. Handsome or not, he’s still a slave, she thought. ‘Everyone at the slave market has a sad story. That doesn’t mean that we can buy them all. Consider yourself lucky,’ she snapped.
Hanno bowed his head. She might be young, but she’s got spirit.
An awkward silence fell.
It was broken by Atia’s voice. ‘Aurelia!’
Aurelia’s face took on a hunted look. ‘I’m in the yard, Mother.’
Atia appeared a moment later. She was wearing a simple linen stola and elegant leather sandals. ‘What are you doing here? We were supposed to be practising the lyre.’ Her gaze passed over Hanno. ‘Isn’t this the slave whom Agesandros beat? The Carthaginian?’
‘Yes, Mother.’ A touch of colour appeared in Aurelia’s cheeks. ‘I was checking with Elira that his recovery was satisfactory.’
‘I see. It’s good that you are taking an interest in things like that. It’s all part of running the household.’ Atia eyed Hanno with more interest. ‘That broken nose isn’t healed, but otherwise he looks fine.’
Hanno shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable with being talked about as if he weren’t present.
Aurelia became a little flustered. ‘I suppose… Elira didn’t say when he’d be ready to return to work.’
‘Well?’ Atia demanded. ‘Are you sufficiently recovered?’
Hanno couldn’t exactly refuse. ‘Yes, mistress,’ he murmured.
‘He’s got three cracked ribs,’ Aurelia protested.
‘That’s no reason to stop him working in the kitchen,’ Atia replied. She stared at Hanno. ‘Is it?’
It would be far less effort than toiling in the fields, thought Hanno. He bowed his head. ‘No, mistress.’
Atia nodded. ‘Good. Follow us back to the house. Julius will have plenty for you to do.’
Secretly delighted, Aurelia followed her mother. She would no longer need an excuse to come and see Hanno.
‘Quintus wants us to watch him sparring with your father,’ said Atia in a proud yet wistful tone.
‘Oh.’ Aurelia managed to convey all of her disapproval and jealousy in one word.
Atia turned. ‘Enough of that attitude! Would you rather spend the time playing the lyre or talking Greek with your tutor?’
‘No, Mother,’ Aurelia muttered furiously.
‘Fine.’ Atia’s frown eased. ‘Come on then.’
Hanno was fascinated. All the girls he’d ever met were perfectly happy to stick with womanly pursuits. Aurelia was made from a different mould.
They entered the house via a small postern gate. It was incorporated into one of the two large timber doors that formed the entrance. Hanno looked around keenly. It was the first time he had been in the villa proper. The simple elegance of its design did not fail to impress him. Carthaginian homes were typically built for functionality, rather than beauty. Elegant mosaics and colourful wall paintings were the exception, not the rule.
In the courtyard, they found Fabricius and Quintus moving carefully around each other. Both were clad in simple belted tunics, and carrying wooden swords and round cavalry shields.
Seeing Atia and Aurelia, they paused.
Fabricius raised his weapon in salute to Atia, who smiled.
‘Finally,’ said Quintus drolly to his sister.
Aurelia did her best to look enthusiastic. This is better than music lessons, she told herself. ‘I’m here now.’
Quintus looked to his father. ‘Ready?’
