As a flock of birds seamlessly alters direction, the senators’ mood changed. Their panic vanished, to be replaced by a frenzy of excitement. Spontaneous cheering broke out, and the atmosphere lightened at once. Publius had won, thought Fabricius delightedly. Nobody but a fool would try and depose the consul now.
A moment later, Flaccus sidled over. ‘Happy?’ he hissed.
Fabricius had had enough. ‘What was I supposed to do? Lie about what I saw?’ he retorted. ‘Hannibal’s army is huge. It’s well armed, and led by a very determined man. We underestimate it at our peril.’
Flaccus’ expression grew softer. ‘Of course, you are right. You spoke well. Convincingly,’ he said. ‘And the danger must be addressed fast. Clearly, Publius is still the man to do it. The resolve he has shown here today is admirable.’
Looking at the displeasure twisting Marcus’ face, Fabricius had difficulty in believing Flaccus’ words. He shoved his disquiet away. Such things were no longer of importance.
All that mattered was defeating Hannibal.
Fabricius wasn’t surprised when Publius ordered him to proceed back to the city gate, there to ready his men. They would leave for Cisalpine Gaul within three hours. Flaccus would be with them too. Publius rolled his eyes as he said it. ‘Some things cannot be changed,’ he muttered. Fabricius was relieved to be given his orders. He had seen enough of politics for a lifetime, and was uncertain what to think of Flaccus and his brother. Maybe Atia had been right? he wondered. Deciding to inform her of what had transpired by writing a quick letter before they set off, Fabricius exited the bronze doors and headed across the Forum.
Chapter XVIII: Cisalpine Gaul
There were only two occasions when the two friends heard something of what was going on inside. The first was when alarmed shouts rang out; the second, which followed directly after, was the sound of loud cheering. Almost at once, news spread through the assembled crowds that the Senate had given Publius its resounding support. Now the consul was to head north with all speed, there to confront Hannibal. Before the pair had time to take the momentous information in, several figures hurried from the Curia. Suddenly, Quintus came to life. He gave Hanno a violent nudge. ‘Look,’ he hissed, taking a step forward. ‘It’s Father!’
‘So it is,’ Hanno muttered. He was even more shocked than Quintus. Why was Fabricius here? His next thought was far more worrying. How would Quintus explain his presence? A wave of terror struck him. What chance was there of Fabricius accepting Quintus’ grant of freedom? Precious little. Hanno couldn’t help thinking he should walk away into the crowd. He would be lost to sight in an instant. Free to make his own way north. Hanno wavered, but then his pride took over. I am no coward who runs away and hides.
Glancing around, Quintus sensed his unhappiness. Despite his excitement, he pulled himself up short. ‘It’s all right,’ he said gently. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Eh? Why not?’ Hanno cried. ‘This is a perfect opportunity for you.’
‘Maybe so, but it isn’t for you.’
Hanno coloured. He didn’t know what to say.
Quintus pre-empted him. ‘What possibility is there that Father will honour your manumission?’
‘I don’t know,’ Hanno muttered. ‘Not much, I suppose.’
‘Exactly,’ Quintus replied. ‘Which is the reason I’m staying right here. With you.’
‘Why would you do that?’ asked Hanno, caught off guard.
‘Have you forgotten last night already?’ Quintus cuffed him on the side of the head. ‘You promised to accompany me to Iberia, even though you no longer had any need to go there. Plus you didn’t make a run for it just now, which most people would have done. I have to repay your honour. Fair’s fair.’
‘It’s not that simple.’ Hanno indicated Fabricius, who was about to disappear from view. ‘Maybe he’s not going with the consul.’
‘I’d say he is, but you’re right. We should make sure.’ Quintus strode off. ‘Come on, let’s follow him.’
Hanno hurried to catch up. ‘What if he’s going back to Iberia?’
‘We’ll talk about that afterwards,’ Quintus answered. ‘In that eventuality, I suppose it would make sense to split up. Otherwise, I’m travelling with you to Cisalpine Gaul.’
Hanno chuckled. ‘You’re crazy!’
‘Perhaps.’ Quintus gave him a lopsided smile. ‘But I still have to do the right thing.’
‘And once we get there?’ Hanno asked uneasily.
‘We’ll part company. I’ll find Father, and you’ — there was an awkward pause — ‘can seek out Hannibal’s army.’
Hanno gripped Quintus’ arm. ‘Thank you.’
Quintus nodded. ‘It’s the least I can do.’
The army that straggled down into the green foothills of the Alps was a shadow of what it had been. All semblance of marching formation had long gone. Gaunt-faced, hollow-cheeked figures stumbled along, holding on to each other for support. The ribs on every surviving horse and mule stood out like the bare frame of a new-built ship. Although few had died, the elephants had suffered extraordinarily too. Bostar thought that they now looked like nothing more than giant skeletons covered by sagging folds of grey skin. The heaviest toll, however, was the number of men and beasts that had been lost during the passage of the mountains. The scale of it was hard to take in, but it was impossible to deny. Hannibal had insisted on a tally as his troops entered the flat plain where, exhausted beyond belief, they had first camped. Even when a margin of error was allowed for, the count revealed that perhaps 24,000 foot soldiers and more than 5,000 pack animals had deserted, run away or perished. Approximately 26,000 men remained, just a quarter of the number that had left New Carthage, and little more than one Roman consular army.
It was a sobering figure, thought Bostar worriedly, especially when there were peoples to fight other than the Romans. He was standing with other senior officers outside the fortified walls of Taurasia. It was the main stronghold of the Taurini, the hostile tribe into whose lands Hannibal’s force had descended. To his left was Sapho’s phalanx, and to his right, his father’s. Alete was positioned beyond Malchus. Fully half of the Libyans were present: six thousand of Hannibal’s best troops.
‘Gentlemen.’
At the sound of Hannibal’s voice, Bostar turned. He scarcely recognised the shambling figure before him, clad in a ragged military cloak. Dank tresses of brown hair fell from under a simple bronze helmet, framing a gaunt face streaked with filth. The man sported a padded linen cuirass, which had clearly seen better days, a thrusting spear and an old, battered shield. He was the worst dressed Libyan spearman Bostar had ever seen, and he stank to high heaven. Bostar glanced at the other officers, who appeared as stunned as he. ‘Is that you, sir?’
The belly laugh was definitely Hannibal’s. ‘It is. Don’t look at me as if I am mad.’
Bostar flushed. ‘Sorry, sir. May I ask why are you dressed like that?’
‘Two reasons. Firstly, as an ordinary soldier, I’m far less of a target to the enemy. Secondly, being anonymous allows me to mix with the troops and assess their mood. I’ve been doing that since we came down out of the mountains,’ Hannibal revealed. He turned to include all those present. ‘What do you think I’ve heard?’
Most of the officers, Bostar included, took a sudden interest in their fingernails, or a strap on their harness that needed tightening. Even Malchus cleared his throat awkwardly.
‘Come now,’ said Hannibal in a bluff tone. ‘Did you really think that I wouldn’t find out how low morale really is? Spirits are high amongst the cavalry, but that’s because I looked after them so well in the mountains. Far fewer of them died. But they’re unusual. Many of the men think we’ll be annihilated the first time we encounter the Romans, don’t they?’
‘They’ll fight anyway, sir!’ Malchus cried. ‘They love you as no other.’
Hannibal’s smile was warm. ‘Worthy Malchus, I can always rely on you and your sons. I know that your soldiers will stay true, and so will the bulk of the army. But we require an immediate victory to raise the men’s spirits. More importantly, we need food to put in their bellies. Our intelligence tells me that the stores behind those walls’ — he indicated the fortress — ‘are full of grain. I would have bought it from the Taurini, but they rejected my overtures out of hand. Now they will learn the price of their foolishness.’
‘What shall we do, sir?’ Sapho asked eagerly.
