every sword she could get. Nothing and no one else mattered. What about Suni? asked his conscience. I have no idea where he is, thought Hanno desperately. What chance is there of finding him?
Quintus scanned the letter at top speed. ‘Father and Flaccus are going to Iberia,’ he muttered excitedly. ‘And I am nearly finished my training.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Aurelia demanded.
He gave her a startled look. ‘Nothing, nothing.’
Aurelia knew her brother well. ‘Don’t go getting any crazy ideas,’ she warned. ‘Father said you were to remain here until called for.’
‘I know.’ Quintus scowled. ‘From the sound of it, though, the war will actually be over in a few months. I don’t want to miss it.’ His gaze flickered across the courtyard and made contact with Hanno. Instantly, Quintus glanced away, but it was too late.
Hanno’s fury overflowed at last. ‘Are you happy now?’ he hissed.
‘What do you mean?’ Quintus replied defensively.
‘The guggas will be defeated, again. Put in their rightful place. I expect you’re delighted.’
Quintus’ face grew red. ‘No, that’s not how it is.’
‘Isn’t it?’ Hanno shot back. Clearing his throat, he spat on the mosaic floor.
‘How dare you?’ Quintus roared, taking a step towards Hanno. ‘You’re nothing but a-’
‘Quintus!’ cried Aurelia, aghast.
With great effort, her brother stopped himself from saying any more.
Contempt twisted Hanno’s face. ‘A slave. Or a gugga! Is that what you were going to say?’
Quintus’ visage turned a deeper shade of crimson. Bunching his fists with anger, he turned away.
‘I’ve had enough of this.’ Hanno grabbed his broom.
Aurelia could take no more. ‘Stop it, both of you! You’re acting like children.’
Her words made no difference. Quintus stormed out of the house, and Aurelia followed him. Hanno retreated to the kitchen, where misery settled over him as it never had before. The news he’d heard a few months before, of Hannibal’s successful siege of Saguntum, and the challenge it had issued, had bolstered his flagging spirits. Given him a reason to go on. Fabricius’ letter had destroyed this utterly. Rome’s plan seemed unbeatable. Even if he reached Hannibal’s army, what difference could he make?
Aurelia came looking for Hanno upon her return. She found him slumped on a stool in the kitchen. Ignoring the other slaves’ curious stares, she dragged Hanno outside. ‘I’ve spoken to Quintus,’ she muttered the moment they were alone. ‘He didn’t mean to offend you. It was just a spontaneous reaction to you spitting.’ She gave Hanno a reproachful look. ‘That was so rude.’
Hanno flushed, but he didn’t apologise. ‘He was gloating at me.’
‘I know it seemed like that,’ said Aurelia. ‘But I don’t think that’s what he was doing.’
‘Wasn’t it?’ Hanno shot back.
‘No,’ she replied softly. ‘Quintus isn’t like that.’
‘Why did he call me a gugga originally, then?’
‘People say things that they don’t mean when they’re drunk. I suppose that you haven’t called him any names in your head since?’ Aurelia asked archly.
Stung, Hanno did not answer.
Aurelia glanced around carefully, before reaching out to touch his face.
Startled by the intimacy this created, Hanno felt his anger dissipate. He looked into her eyes.
Alarmed by her suddenly pounding heart, Aurelia lowered her hand. ‘On the surface, this argument looks quite simple,’ she began. ‘If it weren’t for your misfortune, you would be a free man and, in all probability, enlisting in the Carthaginian army. Like Quintus will do in the legions. There would be nothing wrong with either of those actions. Yet Quintus is free to do as he chooses, while you are a slave.’
That’s it in a nutshell, thought Hanno angrily.
Aurelia wasn’t finished. ‘The real reason, however, is that first you, and then Quintus, were hurt by what the other said. Both of you are too damn proud to make a sincere apology and put it behind you.’ She glared at him. ‘I’m sick of it.’
Amazed by Aurelia’s insight and sincerity, Hanno gave in. The quarrel had been going on long enough. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s not me you should be saying that to.’
‘I know.’ Hanno considered his next words with care. ‘I will apologise to him. But Quintus has to know that, whatever the law of this land, I am no slave. I never will be.’
‘Deep down, I’m sure he knows that. That’s why he stopped himself from calling you one earlier,’ Aurelia replied. Her face grew sad. ‘Obviously, I don’t think of you like that. But to everyone else, you are a slave.’
Hanno was about to tell Aurelia of his plans, when, out of the corner of his eye, he sensed movement. Through the open doors of the tablinum, he could see into part of the atrium. Outside the square of floor illuminated by the hole in its roof, everything lay in shadow. There Hanno could discern a tall figure, watching them. Instinctively, he pulled away from Aurelia. When Agesandros walked into the light, Hanno’s stomach constricted with fear. What had he seen or heard? What would he do?
Aurelia saw the Sicilian in the same moment. She drew herself up proudly, ready for any confrontation.
To their surprise, Agesandros came no nearer. A tiny smile flickered across his face, and then he disappeared whence he had come.
Hanno and Aurelia turned back to each other, but Elira and another domestic slave emerged from the kitchen. The brief moment of magic they had shared was gone. ‘I will talk to Quintus,’ said Aurelia reassuringly. ‘Whatever happens, you must hold on to your friendship. As we two will.’
Keen to make things as they were before he left the farm for ever, Hanno nodded. ‘Thank you.’
Unfortunately, Aurelia was unable to remonstrate with her brother that day. As she told Hanno later, Quintus had taken off for Capua without a word to anyone but the bowlegged slave who worked in the stable. The afternoon passed and night fell, and it became apparent that he would not be returning. Hanno didn’t know whether to feel angry or worried by this development. ‘Don’t be concerned,’ Aurelia said before retiring. ‘Quintus does this sometimes, when he needs time to think. He stays at Gaius’ house, and returns in a few days.’
There was nothing Hanno could do. He lay back on his bedroll and dreamed of escape.
Sleep was a long time coming.
Chapter XI: The Quest for Safe Passage
After the fall of Saguntum, Bostar took to visiting his wounded men every morning, talking to those who were conscious and passing his hand over those who were still asleep, or who would never wake. There were more than thirty soldiers in the large tent, of whom half would probably never fight again. Despite the horror of his soldiers’ injuries, Bostar had begun to feel grateful for his losses. All things considered, they had been slight. Far more Saguntines had died when Hannibal’s troops had entered the city, howling like packs of rabid wolves. For an entire day, the predominant sound throughout Saguntum had been that of screams. Men’s. Women’s. Children’s. Bostar squeezed his eyes shut and tried to forget, but he couldn’t. Butchering unarmed civilians and engaging in widespread rape was not how he made war. While he hadn’t tried to stop his men — had Hannibal not promised them a free rein? — Bostar had not taken part in the slaughter. Commanded by their general to guard the chests of gold and silver that had been found in the citadel, Malchus had not either. Bostar sighed. Inevitably, Sapho had.
A moment later, Malchus’ touch on his shoulder made him jump. ‘It’s good that you’re up so early checking on them.’ Malchus indicated the injured men in their blankets.
‘It’s my job,’ Bostar replied modestly, knowing that his father would have already visited his own casualties.
‘It is.’ Malchus fixed him with a solemn stare. ‘And I think Hannibal has another one for you. Us.’
Bostar’s heart thudded off his ribs. ‘Why?’
‘We’ve all been summoned to the general’s tent. I wasn’t told why.’
