Quintus quailed before his father’s fury. ‘Of course, Father. I’m sorry.’
‘Both of the slaves are long gone, if they have any sense,’ mused Fabricius. ‘Thanks to your impetuosity, I have been left more than a hundred didrachms out of pocket. So has the official’s son in Capua.’
Quintus wanted to say that Gaius had tried to buy Suniaton, but his father’s temper was at fraying point. Buttoning his lip, he nodded miserably.
‘As your father, I am entitled to punish you how I choose,’ Fabricius warned. ‘Even to strike you dead.’
‘I’m at your mercy, Father,’ said Quintus, closing his eyes. Whatever might happen next, he was still glad that he’d let Hanno go.
‘Although you and your sister have behaved outrageously, I heard the truth in your words — or at least the belief that you were speaking the truth. In other words, you did what you thought was right.’
Startled, Quintus opened his eyes. ‘Yes, Father. So did Aurelia.’
‘Which is why we’ll say no more about it for the moment. The matter is far from settled, however.’ Fabricius pursed his lips. ‘And Agesandros will have some explaining to do when next I see him.’
I hope I’m there to see that, thought Quintus, his own anger at the Sicilian resurfacing.
‘You still haven’t explained why you abandoned your mother and sister to make your way here.’ Fabricius pinned him with a hard stare.
‘I thought the war might be over in a few months, like Flaccus said, Father. I didn’t want to miss it,’ Quintus said lamely.
‘And that’s a good enough reason to disobey my orders, is it?’
‘No,’ Quintus replied, flushing an ever deeper shade of red.
‘Yet that’s precisely what you did!’ accused his father. He stared off into the distance. ‘It’s not as if I haven’t got enough on my plate at the moment.’
‘I’ll get out of your way. Return home,’ Quintus whispered.
‘You’ll do no such thing! The situation is far too dangerous.’ Fabricius saw his surprise. ‘Publius has decided to lead his forces over the river Padus, into hostile territory. A temporary bridge has already been thrown over to the far bank. Tomorrow morning, we march westward, towards Hannibal’s army. No Roman forces are to be left behind, and the local Gauls can’t be trusted. You’d have your throat cut within five miles of here.’
‘What shall I do, then?’ asked Quintus despondently.
‘You will have to come with us,’ his father replied, equally unhappily. ‘You’ll be safe in our camp until an opportunity presents itself to send you back to Capua.’
Quintus’ spirits fell even further. The shame of it! To have reached Publius’ army only to be prevented from fighting. It wasn’t that surprising, though. His actions had stretched his father’s goodwill to the limit. At least Hanno had got away, Quintus thought, counting himself lucky that Fabricius hadn’t given him a good hiding.
‘Fabricius? Where are you?’ cried a booming voice.
‘Mars above, that’s all I need,’ muttered Fabricius.
Astounded by his father’s reaction, Quintus turned to see Flaccus emerge into view.
‘There you are! Publius wants another meeting about-’ Flaccus stopped in astonishment. ‘Quintus? What a pleasant surprise!’
Quintus grinned guiltily. At least someone was pleased to see him.
‘You sent for Quintus, I presume?’ Flaccus didn’t wait for Fabricius to answer. ‘What an excellent idea! His timing is impeccable too.’ He raised a clenched fist at Quintus. ‘Tomorrow, we’re going to teach those bastard guggas a lesson they’ll never forget.’
‘I didn’t send for him,’ answered Fabricius stiffly. ‘He saw fit to leave his mother and sister on their own and turn up here without so much as a by your leave.’
‘The rashness of youth!’ demurred Flaccus with a smile. ‘Nonetheless, you’ll let him ride out with us in the morning?’
‘I hadn’t planned on it, no,’ said Fabricius curtly.
‘What?’ Flaccus threw him an incredulous look. ‘And deny your son a chance to blood himself? To take part in what could be one of our greatest cavalry victories ever? Publius’ boy is to come along, and he’s no older than Quintus here.’
‘It’s not that.’
‘What is it, then?’
‘It’s none of your concern,’ said Fabricius angrily.
Flaccus barely blinked at the rebuff. ‘Come now,’ he cajoled. ‘Unless the lad has committed murder, surely he should be allowed to be part of this golden opportunity? This could be the glowing start to his career — a career that will only blossom once your family is allied to the Minucii.’
Furious, Fabricius considered his options. They were in this situation purely because of Flaccus’ pushiness, yet it would look rude now for him to turn down Flaccus’ proposal. It might also jeopardise Quintus’ chances of advancement. Even when wedded to Aurelia, Flaccus would be under no legal obligation to help his brother-in-law. It was all down to goodwill. He made a show of looking pleased. ‘Very well. I’ll ask the consul for his permission to let Quintus join my unit.’
‘Excellent!’ cried Flaccus. ‘Publius won’t turn down a cavalryman of your son’s quality.’
Quintus couldn’t believe the change in his fortunes. ‘Thank you,’ he said, grinning at both men. ‘I won’t let you down, Father.’
‘Consider yourself lucky,’ Fabricius growled. He stabbed a finger into Quintus’ chest. ‘You’re not out of trouble yet either.’
‘The glory he’ll win tomorrow will make you forget anything he ’s done,’ declared Flaccus, giving Quintus a broad wink. ‘Now, we’d best not keep Publius waiting any longer.’
‘True,’ replied Fabricius. He pointed at a nearby tent. ‘There’s an empty space in that one. Tell the men in it that I said you were to bunk in with them. We’ll get you some equipment later.’
‘Yes, Father. Thank you.’
Fabricius did not reply.
‘Until tomorrow,’ said Flaccus. ‘We’ll cover the field with gugga bodies!’
Instantly, an image of Hanno appeared in Quintus’ mind’s eye. Forcing a grin, he did his best to shove it away. Defeating the Carthaginians was all that mattered, he told himself.
Chapter XIX: Reunion
Hanno did not dare to try crossing the makeshift bridge over the Padus with his mount. He had tempted fate enough by riding out of the camp alone on his mule, a likely slave. There had to be at least two centuries of legionaries guarding the road that ran up to the crossing. No matter how dull their duty, Hanno doubted that they were stupid enough to let a dark-skinned man who spoke accented Latin pass by without question. He therefore rode west along the southern bank, searching for a suitable place to ford the river.
Winter gales had stripped the leaves from the trees, leaving the flat landscape stark and bare. It made it easy to spot movement of any kind. This suited Hanno down to the ground. Unarmed apart from a dagger, he had no desire to meet anyone until he crossed the river into the territory of the Insubres. They were mostly hostile towards the Romans. Even there, however, Hanno wanted to avoid human contact. In reality, he could trust no one but his own people, or the soldiers who fought for them. Although he was by no means safe yet, Hanno could not help feeling exhilarated. He could almost sense the presence of Hannibal’s army nearby.
Hanno hardly dared to wonder if his own father and brothers were still alive, or with the Carthaginian forces. There was absolutely no way of telling. For all he knew, they could yet be in Iberia. Maybe they had been posted back to Carthage. What would he do if that were the case? Whom would he report to? At that moment, Hanno did not overly care. He had escaped, and, gods willing, would soon place himself under Hannibal’s command: another soldier of Carthage.
For two days and nights, Hanno travelled west. He avoided settlements and farms, camping rough in dips and hollows where there was little chance of being discovered. Despite the severe cold, he forbore from lighting fires. His blankets were sufficient to prevent frostbite, but not to allow much sleep. It didn’t matter. Staying alert now
