Hanno felt a void inside. Let us never meet again, he prayed. Unless it happens in peacetime.
A hundred paces away, Quintus felt the same way. Only now could he allow himself to grieve the loss of a friend. They had been through a great deal together. If Hanno were a Roman, Quintus thought, I would be proud to stand beside him in battle. Sadly, it was only the opposite that could ever come to pass. Jupiter, Greatest and Best, never let this happen, he prayed.
Not long after, Quintus found the consul’s headquarters, a large pavilion surrounded by the cavalry tent lines. The vexillum, a red flag on a pole, made sure that every soldier could see Publius’ position. A few questions guided Quintus in the direction of his father, whom he found outside his tent, talking to a pair of decurions. To his relief, Fabricius did not immediately explode. Instead he quietly dismissed the junior officers. The moment that they were gone, however, he rounded on Quintus. ‘Look who it is!’ Sarcasm dripped from his voice.
‘Father.’ Feeling distinctly nervous, Quintus dismounted. ‘Are you well?’
‘I’m fine,’ Fabricius replied. His eyebrows arched. ‘Surprised, though. Annoyed and disappointed too. You should be at home, looking after your mother and sister, not here.’
Quintus shuffled his feet.
‘Not going to answer that charge?’ his father snapped. ‘Why are you not on a ship to Iberia? After all, that’s where I should be.’
‘I travelled to Rome first,’ Quintus muttered. ‘I was there when Publius spoke in the Curia. I caught a glimpse of you outside.’
Fabricius frowned. ‘Why in Jupiter’s name didn’t you come up to me there?’
‘The press was too great to reach you, Father. I didn’t know where you were staying, or even that you were heading north with the consul,’ Quintus lied. ‘I found out later. It was easy enough to follow you.’
‘I see. Fortuna must have been guiding your path. The tribesmen around here aren’t the friendliest,’ said Fabricius dourly. ‘It’s a shame that you didn’t make yourself known to me in Rome. You’d already be in Capua by now, or my name isn’t Gaius Fabricius.’ His dark eyes regarded Quintus carefully. ‘And so you travelled up here alone?’
Quintus cursed inwardly. This was going even worse than he’d expected. He was such a poor liar when asked a direct question. ‘No, Father.’
‘Who was with you? Gaius, probably. He listens to Martialis as little as you do to me.’
‘No,’ Quintus mumbled.
‘Who, then?’
Dreading his father’s response, Quintus said nothing.
Fabricius’ anger bubbled over. ‘Answer me!’
‘Hanno.’
‘Who?’
‘One of our… your… slaves.’
Fabricius’ face purpled. ‘That’s not enough! Do you expect me to remember the name of every damn one?’
‘No, Father,’ Quintus said quickly. ‘He’s the Carthaginian that I bought after the bear hunt.’
‘Oh, him. Where is the dirtbag? Putting up your tent?’
‘He’s not here,’ replied Quintus, stalling for time.
Fabricius’ eyes opened wide with disbelief. ‘Say that again.’
‘He’s gone, Father,’ Quintus whispered.
‘Louder! I can’t hear you!’
A passing officer glanced over, and Quintus’ mortification soared. ‘He’s gone, Father,’ he said loudly.
‘What a surprise!’ Fabricius cried. ‘Of course he was going to run away. What else would the dog do with a host of his countrymen so near? I bet that he waited until the very last moment before disappearing too. Congratulations! Hannibal has just gained himself another soldier.’
Quintus was stung by the truth in his father’s words. ‘It’s not like that,’ he said quietly.
‘How so?’ retorted Fabricius furiously.
‘Hanno didn’t run away.’
‘He’s dead then?’ Fabricius demanded in a mocking tone.
‘No, Father. I set him free,’ Quintus blurted.
‘ What? ’
With ebbing confidence, Quintus repeated himself.
Astonishment and disbelief mixed with the anger on Fabricius’ face. ‘This goes from bad to worse. How dare you?’ Stepping closer, he slapped Quintus hard across the face.
He reeled backwards from the force of the blow. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s a little late for apologies, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, Father.’
‘It is not within your power to act in this manner,’ Fabricius ranted. ‘My slaves belong to me, not you!’
‘I know, Father,’ Quintus muttered.
‘So why did you do it? What in Hades were you thinking?’
‘I owed him my life.’
Fabricius frowned. ‘You’re referring to what happened at Libo’s hut?’
‘Yes, Father. When he came back, Hanno could easily have turned on me. Joined the bandits. Instead, he saved my life.’
‘That’s still no reason to free him on a whim. Without my permission,’ Fabricius growled.
‘There’s more to it than that.’
‘I should damn well hope so!’ Fabricius looked at him enquiringly. ‘Well?’
Quintus snatched the brief respite from his father’s tirade. ‘Agesandros. He had it in for Hanno from the first moment I bought him. Don’t you remember what happened when the Gaul hurt his leg?’
‘An over-enthusiastic beating is no reason to free a slave,’ Fabricius snapped. ‘If it was, there would be no servile labour in the whole damn Republic.’
‘I know it isn’t, Father,’ said Quintus humbly. ‘But after your letter arrived in the spring, Agesandros planted a purse and a dagger among Hanno’s belongings. Then he accused him of stealing them, and planning to kill us all before he fled. He was going to sell Hanno to the same owner who had bought his friend. They were to be forced to fight each other as gladiators at a munus, he said. And it was all a complete lie!’
Fabricius thought for a moment. ‘What did your mother have to say?’
‘She believed Agesandros,’ Quintus answered reluctantly.
‘Which should have been good enough for you,’ Fabricius thundered.
‘But he was lying, Father!’
Fabricius’ brows lowered. ‘Why would Agesandros lie?’
‘I don’t know, Father. But I’m certain that Hanno is no murderer!’
‘You can’t know something like that,’ replied Fabricius dryly. Quintus took heart from the fact that some of the rage had gone from his voice. ‘Never trust a slave totally.’
Quintus rallied his courage. ‘In that case, how can you depend on Agesandros’ word?’
‘He’s served me well for more than twenty years,’ his father replied, a trifle defensively.
‘So you’d trust him over me?’
‘Watch your mouth!’ Fabricius snapped. There was a short pause. ‘Start at the beginning. Leave nothing out.’
Quintus realised that he had been granted a stay of execution. Taking a deep breath, he began. Remarkably, his father did not interrupt at all, even when Quintus related how Aurelia had set a fire in the granary, and how he and Gaius had freed Suniaton. When he fell silent, Fabricius stood, tapping his foot on the ground for several moments. ‘Why did you decide to help the other Carthaginian?’
‘Because Hanno would not leave without him,’ Quintus answered. Then he added, passionately, ‘He is my friend. I couldn’t betray him.’
‘Hold on!’ interrupted Fabricius, ire creeping back into his voice. ‘We’re not talking about Gaius here. Freeing a slave without the permission of his owner is a crime, and you have done it twice over! This is a very serious matter.’
