that they’re rations for our foraging trip. Fetch a basket too.’
‘What if the mistress wants to know where you are?’
‘Say that we’re going to look for nuts and mushrooms.’
Elira’s face grew even more confused. ‘How will that help Hanno?’
‘You’ll see.’ Aurelia clapped her hands. ‘Well, get on with it then. I’ll meet you on the path that leads up to the hills.’
With a curious glance, Elira hurried off.
Aurelia hadn’t been waiting long before Elira came hurrying through the trees towards her. A small leather pack dangled from one hand, a cloak that matched her own from the other.
‘Did anyone ask what you were doing?’ Aurelia asked nervously.
‘Julius did, but he just smiled when I told him what we were doing. He said to be careful.’
‘He’s such an old woman!’ declared Aurelia. She looked down and realised that she’d come out without her dagger or sling. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. We won’t be gone for long. ‘Come on,’ she said briskly.
‘Where are we going?’ asked Elira.
‘Up there,’ replied Aurelia, waving vaguely at the slopes that loomed over the farm. Abruptly, she decided that there was no further need for subterfuge. ‘Did you know that Hanno had a friend who was captured with him?’
Elira nodded.
‘Suniaton was sold to become a gladiator in Capua.’
‘Oh.’ Elira didn’t dare to say more, but her muted tone spoke volumes.
‘Quintus and Gaius helped him to escape.’
The Illyrian was visibly shocked. ‘Why?’
‘Because Hanno was Quintus’ friend.’
‘I see.’ Elira frowned. ‘Has Suniaton got something to do with where we’re going now?’
‘Yes. He was injured when they rescued him, so the poor thing couldn’t travel. He’s much better now, thank the gods.’
Elira looked intrigued. ‘Where is he?’
‘At the shepherd’s hut where Quintus and Hanno fought the bandits.’
‘You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?’ said Elira with a giggle.
Aurelia’s misery lifted a fraction and she grinned.
Talking animatedly, they walked to the border of Fabricius’ land. The fields on either side were empty and bare, lying fallow until the spring. Jackdaws were their only company; flocks regularly flew overhead, their characteristic squawks piercing the chill air. Soon they had entered the woods that covered the surrounding hills. The bird cries immediately died away, and the trees pressed in from all sides with a claustrophobic air that Aurelia did not like.
When Agesandros stepped out on to the path, she screamed in fright. So did Elira.
‘I didn’t mean to scare you,’ he said apologetically.
Aurelia tried to calm her pounding heart. ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded.
He raised the bow in his hands. An arrow was already notched to its string. ‘Hunting deer. And you?’
Aurelia’s mouth felt very dry. ‘Looking for nuts. And mushrooms.’
‘I see,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t stray too far from the farm on your search.’
‘Why not?’ asked Aurelia, trying desperately to sound confident.
‘You never know who might be about. Bandits. A bear. An escaped slave.’
‘There’s little chance of that,’ Aurelia declared boldly.
‘Maybe so. You’re unarmed, though. I could come with you,’ the Sicilian offered.
‘No!’ Instantly, Aurelia regretted her vehemence. ‘Thank you, but we’ll be fine.’
‘If you’re certain,’ he said, stepping back.
‘I am.’ Jerking her head at Elira, Aurelia walked past him.
‘It’s a bit late for mushrooms, isn’t it?’
Aurelia’s step faltered. ‘There are still a few, if you know where to look,’ she managed.
Agesandros nodded knowledgeably. ‘I’m sure.’
Aurelia’s skin was crawling as she walked away.
‘Does he know?’ whispered Elira.
‘How could he?’ Aurelia hissed back.
But it felt as if he did.
Many days passed by, and it became evident that there would be no battle. As Fabricius had said, no commander would choose to fight unless he could select the time and place. Publius’ refusal to move from the high ground and Hannibal’s unwillingness to attack his enemy’s position produced a stalemate. While the Carthaginians roamed at will across the plain west of the Trebia, the Romans stayed close to their camp. Hannibal’s cavalry now severely outnumbered their horsemen. Patrols were so risky that they were rarely sent out. Despite this, Quintus found it hard to remain equable about their enforced inactivity. He was still suffering nightmares about what had happened to Licinius. He hoped that in battle he could purge himself of the disturbing images. ‘I’m going crazy,’ he told his father one night. ‘How much longer do we have to wait?’
‘We’ll do nothing until Longus arrives,’ Fabricius repeated patiently. ‘If we marched down to the flat ground today and offered battle, the dogs would cut us to pieces. Even without the difference in cavalry, Hannibal’s army outnumbers us man for man. You know that.’
‘I suppose so,’ Quintus admitted reluctantly.
Fabricius leaned back in his chair, satisfied that his point had been made.
Quintus stared gloomily into the depths of the brazier. What was Hanno doing at this very moment? he wondered. It didn’t seem real that they were now enemies. Quintus also thought of Aurelia. When would his recently composed letter reach her? If Fortuna smiled on them both, he might get a reply within the next few months. It was a long time to wait. At least in the meantime he was serving alongside his father. His sister, on the other hand, was not so lucky. Quintus’ heart ached for her.
‘Here you both are!’ A familiar booming voice broke the silence.
Fabricius made a show of looking pleased. ‘Flaccus. Where else would we be?’
Quintus jumped up and saluted. What does he want? he wondered. Since the debacle at the Ticinus, they had hardly seen Aurelia’s husband-to-be. The reason, all three knew, was Flaccus’ conduct during that disaster. It was hard to dispel suspicion once it had taken root, thought Quintus. Yet he could not shake off his feeling. Nor, it appeared, could his father.
‘Quite so, quite so. Who would be out tonight apart from the sentries and the deranged?’ Chuckling at his own joke, Flaccus proffered a small amphora.
‘How kind,’ Fabricius murmured, accepting the gift. ‘Will you try some?’
‘Only if you will,’ Flaccus demurred.
Fabricius opened the amphora with a practised movement of his wrist. ‘Quintus?’
‘Yes, please, Father.’ Quickly, he fetched three glazed ceramic beakers.
With their cups filled, they eyed each other, wondering who would make the toast. At length, Fabricius spoke. ‘To the swift arrival of Sempronius Longus and his army.’
‘And to a rapid victory over the Carthaginians thereafter,’ Flaccus added.
Quintus thought of Licinius. ‘And vengeance for our dead comrades.’
Nodding, Fabricius lifted his cup even higher.
Flaccus beamed. ‘That’s fighting talk! Just what I wanted to hear.’ He gave them a conspiratorial wink. ‘I’ve had a word with Publius.’
Fabricius looked dubious. ‘About what?’
‘Sending out a patrol.’
‘Eh?’ asked Fabricius suspiciously.
‘No one has been across the river in more than a week.’
‘That’s because it’s too damn dangerous,’ Fabricius replied. ‘The enemy controls the far bank in its entirety.’
‘Hear me out,’ said Flaccus in a placatory tone. ‘When Sempronius Longus arrives, he’ll want fresh
