the Roman embassy. Either way, he wanted to lash out at someone. ‘Who cares?’ he snapped. ‘He’s a gugga. Let him go.’ Quintus regretted the words the instant they left his mouth. He made to walk after Hanno, but Gaius, who was laughing, dragged him over to a stone bench by the fountain. ‘Let’s talk,’ his friend muttered drunkenly.
Quintus dared not pull away. The darkness concealed his stricken face.
His shoulders stiff with repressed fury, Hanno did not look back. It was ten more steps to the kitchen, where he clattered the dishes angrily into the sink. So much for friendship with a Roman, he thought, bitterness coursing through his veins. He knew that Aurelia was sympathetic towards him, but he could not be sure of anyone else. Especially Quintus. The anger he’d heard in all the nobles’ voices at Flaccus’ revelation was natural, yet it changed Hanno’s situation completely. In principle, he was now an enemy. His own delight at the matter would have to be buried so deeply that no one could see it. In the close confines of the house, Hanno knew how difficult this would prove. He exhaled slowly. An important decision had just been made for him. He should run away. Soon. But to Carthage or Iberia? And was there any chance of finding Suniaton before he left?
Chapter X: Betrayal
The next morning Quintus had another hangover, and his memories of Flaccus’ facial expressions were hazy. Enough disquiet remained in his mind, however, for him to seek out his father. He found Fabricius closeted in his office with Flaccus. The pair were busily drawing up Aurelia’s betrothal papers, and looked irritated by the distraction. Fabricius brushed off Quintus’ muttered request for a word. Seeing his son’s disappointment, he relented slightly. ‘Tell me later,’ he said.
Glumly, Quintus shut the door. He had other things on his mind too. He had insulted Hanno cruelly and he was ashamed. The Carthaginian’s status meant that Quintus could treat him in any way he chose, but of course that was not the point. He saved my life. We are friends now, thought Quintus. I owe him an apology. Yet his quest to resolve this problem proved as frustrating as his attempt to speak with his father. He found Hanno easily enough, but the Carthaginian pretended not to hear Quintus’ voice when he called, and avoided all attempts to make eye contact. Quintus didn’t want to make a scene, and there was so much going on that he could not even find a quiet corner to explain. Fabricius’ decision to accompany Flaccus to Rome and thence to war meant that the place was a flurry of activity. Every household slave was occupied in one way or another. Clothes, furniture and blankets had to be packed, armour polished and weapons sharpened.
Quintus went miserably in search of Aurelia. He wasn’t sure whether he should mention anything about Flaccus. All he had to go on were two fleeting glimpses, observed while under the influence of too much wine. He decided to see what frame of mind Aurelia was in before saying a word. If she was still feeling positive about the marriage, he would say nothing. The last thing Quintus wanted to do was upset his sister’s fragile acceptance of her lot.
To his surprise, Aurelia was in excellent humour. ‘He is so handsome,’ she gushed. ‘And not that old either. I think we will be very happy.’
Burying his doubts, Quintus nodded and smiled.
‘He strikes me as being quite arrogant, but what man of his position isn’t? His loyalty to Rome is beyond doubt, and that is all that matters.’ Aurelia’s face grew troubled. ‘I felt so sorry for Hanno last night. The horrible names they were calling his people were so unnecessary. Have you spoken with him?’
Quintus looked away. ‘No.’
Aurelia reacted with typical female intuition. ‘What’s wrong?’ she demanded.
‘Nothing,’ Quintus replied. ‘I have a hangover, that’s all.’
She bent to catch his eye. ‘Did you argue with Hanno?’
‘No,’ he answered. ‘Yes. I don’t know.’
Aurelia raised her eyebrows, and Quintus knew that she would not leave it alone until he told her. ‘When I left with Gaius, it looked like Hanno had been eavesdropping outside the door,’ he said.
‘Is that surprising? We were talking about a war between his people and ours,’ Aurelia observed tartly. ‘What does it matter anyway? He was there in the room when Flaccus told us the most important part of his story.’
‘I know,’ Quintus muttered. ‘It seemed suspicious, though. Gaius wanted to challenge him, but I told him not to bother. That Hanno was just a gugga.’
Aurelia’s hand rose to her mouth. ‘Quintus! How could you?’
Quintus hung his head. ‘I wanted to say sorry straightaway… but Gaius wanted to talk,’ he finished lamely. ‘I couldn’t walk off and leave him.’
‘I hope you’ve apologised this morning,’ Aurelia said sternly.
Quintus could not get over Aurelia’s level of self-assurance. It was as if her betrothal had added five years to her age. ‘I’ve tried,’ he answered. ‘But there’s too much going on to get a quiet moment alone with him.’
Aurelia pursed her lips. ‘Father is leaving in a few hours. There will be plenty of time after that.’
Finally, Quintus met her gaze. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’ll do it.’
He had cause to rethink his opinion of Flaccus later that morning. With the betrothal agreement signed, the black-haired politician suddenly started to make much of his new brother-in-law-to-be. ‘No doubt this war with Carthage will be over quickly — maybe even before you’ve completed your military training,’ he declared, throwing an arm around Quintus’ shoulders. ‘Never fear. There will be other conflicts for you to win glory in. The Gauls on our northern borders are forever causing trouble. So too are the Illyrians. Philip of Macedon cannot be trusted either. A brave young officer like you could go far indeed. Perhaps even make tribune.’
Quintus grinned from ear to ear. While the Fabricii were of equestrian rank, their status was not so high that it was likely he’d reach the tribuneship. Under the patronage of someone really powerful, however, the process would be much more straightforward. Flaccus’ words did much to soothe Quintus’ disappointment at not accompanying his father. ‘I look forward to serving Rome,’ he said proudly. ‘Wherever it may send me.’
Flaccus clapped him on the back. ‘That’s the attitude.’ Seeing Aurelia, he pushed Quintus away. ‘Let me talk with my betrothed before I go. It’s a long time until June.’
Delighted by the prospect of a glittering military career, Quintus put down Flaccus’ powerful shove as nothing more than the excitement of a prospective bridegroom. Aurelia was turning into a beautiful young woman. Who wouldn’t want to marry her? Leaving Flaccus alone, Quintus went in search of his father.
‘Aurelia!’ called Flaccus, entering the courtyard.
Aurelia, who had been wondering what married life would be like, jumped. She made a stiff little bow. ‘Flaccus.’
‘Walk with me.’ He made an inviting gesture.
Twin points of colour rose in Aurelia’s cheeks. ‘I’m not sure Mother would approve…’
‘What do you take me for?’ Flaccus’ tone was mildly shocked. ‘I would never presume to take you outside the villa without a chaperone. I meant a stroll here in the courtyard, where everyone can see us.’
‘Naturally,’ Aurelia replied, flustered. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘The fault is all mine for not explaining,’ he said with a reassuring smile. ‘I merely thought that, with us to be wed, it would be good for us to spend a little time together. War is coming, and soon occasions such as this will be impossible.’
‘Yes, of course.’ She hurried to his side.
Flaccus drank her in. ‘Bacchus can make the most crab-faced crone look appealing, and the gods know I drank enough of his juice to think that last night. But your beauty is even more evident in the light of the sun,’ he said. ‘That is a rare quality.’
Unused to such compliments, Aurelia blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
They strolled around the perimeter of the courtyard. Awkward with the silence, Aurelia began pointing out the plants and trees that occupied much of the space. There were lemon, almond and fig trees, and vines snaking across a wooden latticework that formed an artificial shaded corridor. ‘This is such a bad time of year to see it,’ she said. ‘During the summer, the place is so beautiful. By the Vinalia Rustica, you can barely move for the fruit.’
‘I’m sure it’s spectacular, but I didn’t come here to talk about grapes.’ Seeing her embarrassment increase, Flaccus continued, ‘Tell me about yourself. What do you like to do?’
Anxious, Aurelia wondered what he’d want to hear. ‘I enjoy speaking Greek. And I’m better at algebra and
