Suniaton scuffed a toe in the dirt.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ Sapho asked acidly.
Hanno moved in front of his friend. ‘We were going to catch some tunny, yes,’ he admitted.
Sapho’s scowl grew deeper. ‘And that’s more important than listening to the Council of Elders?’
As usual, his brother’s high-handed attitude rankled with Hanno. This type of lecture was all too common. Most often, it felt as if Sapho was trying to be their father. Unsurprisingly, Hanno resented this. ‘It’s not as if the greybeards will say anything that hasn’t been said a thousand times before,’ he retorted. ‘Just about every one is full of hot air.’
Suniaton sniggered. ‘Like someone else not too far away.’ He saw Hanno’s warning look and fell silent.
Sapho’s jaw clenched. ‘You pair of impudent-’ he began.
Bostar’s lips twitched, and he lifted a hand to Sapho’s shoulder. ‘Peace,’ he said. ‘Hanno has a point. The elders are rather fond of the sound of their own voices.’
Hanno and Suniaton tried to hide their smiles.
Sapho missed Bostar’s amusement, but he lapsed into a glowering silence. He was acutely aware, and resentful, that he was not the senior officer present. Although Sapho was a year older, Bostar had been promoted before him.
‘It’s not as if this meeting will be a matter of life and death,’ Bostar continued reasonably. His wink — unseen by Sapho — told Hanno that all hope was not lost. He slyly returned the gesture. Like Hanno, Bostar resembled their mother, Arishat, with a thin face and piercing green eyes. Where Sapho’s nose was broad, his was long and narrow. Rangy and athletic, his long black hair was tied in a ponytail, which emerged from under his helmet. Hanno had far more in common with the gentle Bostar than he did with Sapho. Currently, his feelings for his eldest brother often verged on dislike. ‘Does our father know where you are?’
‘No,’ admitted Hanno.
Bostar turned to Suniaton. ‘I would assume, therefore, that Bodesmun is also in the dark?’
‘Of course he is,’ Sapho butted in, eager to regain control. ‘As usual where these two are concerned.’
Bostar ignored his brother’s outburst. ‘Well?’
‘Father thinks I’m at home, studying,’ Suniaton revealed.
Sapho’s expression grew a shade more self-righteous. ‘Let’s see what Bodesmun and Father have to say when they discover what you were both really up to. We have enough time to do that before the Council meets.’ He jerked a thumb at the spearmen. ‘Get in amongst them.’
Hanno scowled, but there was little point arguing. Sapho was in a particularly zealous mood. ‘Come on,’ he muttered to Suniaton. ‘The shoals will be there another day.’
Before they could move a step, Bostar spoke. ‘I don’t see why they shouldn’t go fishing.’
Hanno and Suniaton stared at each other, amazed.
Sapho’s brows rose. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Such activities will shortly be impossible for both of us, and we’ll miss them.’ Bostar made a face. ‘That same day will come for Hanno soon enough. Let him have his fun while he can.’
Hanno’s heart leaped; the gravity of Bostar’s words was lost on him.
Sapho’s face grew thoughtful. After a moment, though, his sanctimonious frown returned. ‘Duty is duty,’ he declared.
‘Lighten up, Sapho. You’re twenty-two, not fifty-two!’ Bostar threw a glance at the spearmen, who were uniformly grinning. ‘Who would notice Hanno’s absence apart from us and Father? And you’re not Suni’s keeper any more than I am.’
Sapho’s lips thinned at the teasing, but he relented. The idea of Bostar pulling rank on him was too much to bear. ‘Father won’t be happy,’ he said gruffly, ‘but I suppose you’re right.’
Hanno could hardly believe what he was hearing. ‘Thank you!’ His cry was echoed by Suniaton.
‘Go on, before I change my mind,’ Sapho warned.
The friends didn’t need any further prompting. With a grateful look at Bostar, who threw them another wink, the pair disappeared into the crowd. Broad grins creased both their faces. They would still be held to account, thought Hanno, but not until that evening. Visions of a boat full of tunny filled his mind once more.
‘Sapho’s a serious one, isn’t he?’ Suniaton commented.
‘You know how he is,’ Hanno replied. ‘In his eyes, things like fishing are a waste of time.’
Suniaton nudged him. ‘Just as well I didn’t tell him what I was thinking, then.’ He grinned at Hanno’s enquiring look. ‘That it would do him good to relax more — perhaps by going fishing!’
Hanno’s mouth opened with shock, before he laughed. ‘Thank the gods you didn’t say that! There’s no way he would have let us go.’
Smiling with relief, the friends continued their journey. Soon they had reached the Agora. Its four sides, each a stade in length, were made up of grand porticoes and covered walkways. The beating heart of the city, it was home to the building where the Council of Elders met, as well as government offices, a library, numerous temples and shops. It was also where, on summer evenings, the better-off young men and women would gather in groups, a safe distance apart, to eye each other up. Socialising with the opposite sex was frowned upon, and chaperones for the girls were never far away. Despite this, inventive methods to approach the object of one’s desire were constantly being invented. Of recent months, this had become one of the friends’ favourite pastimes. Fishing beat it still, but not by much, thought Hanno wistfully, scanning the crowds for any sign of attractive female flesh.
Instead of gaggles of coy young beauties, though, the Agora was full of serious-looking politicians, merchants and high-ranking soldiers. They were heading for one place. The central edifice, within the hallowed walls of which more than three hundred elders met on a regular basis as, for nearly half a millennium, their predecessors had done. Overseen by the two suffetes — the rulers elected every year — they, the most important men in Carthage, decided everything from trading policy to negotiations with foreign states. Their range of powers did not end there. The Council of Elders also had the power to declare war and peace, even though it no longer appointed the army’s generals. Since the war with Rome, that had been left to the people. The only prerequisites for candidature of the council were citizenship, wealth, an age of thirty or more, and the demonstration of ability, whether in the agricultural, mercantile, or military fields.
Ordinary citizens could participate in politics via the Assembly of the People, which congregated once a year, by the order of the suffetes, in the Agora. During times of great crisis, it was permitted to gather spontaneously and debate the issues of the day. While its powers were limited, they included electing the suffetes and the generals. Hanno was looking forward to the next meeting, which would be the first he’d attend as an adult, entitled to vote. Although Hannibal’s enormous public popularity guaranteed his reappointment as the commander-in-chief of Carthage’s forces in Iberia, Hanno wanted to show his support for the Barca clan. It was the only way he could at the moment. Despite his requests, Malchus would not let him join Hannibal’s army, as Sapho and Bostar had done after their mother’s death. Instead, he had to finish his education. There was no point fighting his father on this. Once Malchus had spoken, he never went back on a decision.
Following Carthaginian tradition, Hanno had largely fended for himself from the age of fourteen, although he continued to sleep at home. He’d worked in a forge, among other places, and thus earned enough to live on without committing any crimes or shameful acts. This was similar to, but not as harsh, as the Spartan way. He had also taken classes in Greek, Iberian and Latin. Hanno did not especially enjoy languages, but he had come to accept that such a skill would prove useful among the polyglot of nationalities that formed the Carthaginian army. His people did not take naturally to war, so they hired mercenaries, or enlisted their subjects, to fight on their behalf. Libyans, Iberians, Gauls and Balearic tribesmen were among those who brought their differing qualities to Carthage’s forces.
Hanno’s favourite subject was military matters. Malchus himself taught him the history of war, from the battles of Xenophon and Thermopylae to the victories won by Alexander of Macedon. Central to his father’s lessons were the intricate details of tactics and planning. Particular attention was paid to Carthaginian defeats in the war with Rome, and the reasons for them. ‘We lost because of our leaders’ lack of determination. All they thought about was how to contain the conflict, not win it. How to minimise cost, not disregard it in the total pursuit of victory,’ Malchus had thundered during one memorable lesson. ‘The Romans are motherless curs, but by all the gods, they possess strength of purpose. Whenever they lost a battle, they recruited more men, and rebuilt their ships. They did not give up. When the public purse was empty, their leaders willingly spent their own wealth. Their damn Republic means everything to them. Yet who in Carthage offered to send us the supplies and soldiers we needed so badly in
