intelligence, and information on the terrain west of the Trebia. After all, that’s where the battle will be.’
‘What’s wrong with waiting until he gets here?’ demanded Fabricius. ‘Some of his cavalry can do his donkey work.’
‘It needs to be now,’ urged Flaccus. ‘Presenting the consul with all the information he needs would allow him to act fast. Just think of the boost it would provide to the men’s morale when we come back safely!’
‘We?’ said Fabricius slowly. ‘You would come too?’
‘Of course.’
Not for the first time, Fabricius wondered if it had been a good idea to betroth Aurelia to Flaccus. Yet how could he be a coward and offer to take part in such a madcap venture? ‘I don’t know,’ he muttered. ‘It would be incredibly risky.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Flaccus protested. ‘I’ve been watching the Carthaginians from our side of the river. By hora decima every afternoon, their last patrol has vanished from sight. It’s at least hora quarta the following morning before they return. If we crossed at night, and rode out before dawn, we’d have perhaps two hours to reconnoitre the area. We would be back across before the Numidians had finished scratching their lice.’
Quintus laughed.
Fabricius scowled. ‘I don’t think it’s a very good idea.’
‘Publius has already given his approval. I could think of no one better to lead the patrol, and he agreed,’ said Flaccus. ‘Come on, what do you say?’
Damn you, thought Fabricius. He felt completely outmanoeuvred. Refusing Flaccus’ offer could be seen as a snub to Publius himself, and that was not a wise course of action. Furious, Fabricius changed his mind. ‘It could only be a small patrol. One turma at most,’ he said. ‘It would have to be under my sole command. You can come along — as an observer.’
Flaccus did not protest. He turned to Quintus. ‘Your father is a shining example of a Roman officer. Brave, resourceful and eager to do his duty.’
‘I’m coming too,’ said Quintus.
‘No, you’re not,’ snapped his father. ‘It will be far too dangerous.’
‘It’s not fair! You did things like this when you were my age — you’ve told me!’ retorted Quintus furiously.
Flaccus stepped in before Fabricius could reply. ‘How can we deny Quintus such a chance to gain valuable experience? And think of the glory that will be heaped upon the men who brought Longus the information that helped him to defeat Hannibal!’
Fabricius looked at his son’s eager face and sighed. ‘Very well.’
‘Thank you, Father,’ said Quintus with a broad smile.
Fabricius kept showing a brave face, but inside he was filled with fear. It will be like walking past a pride of hungry lions, hoping that none of them sees us, he thought. Yet there was no going back now.
He had given his word to lead the mission.
Chapter XXI: Hannibal’s Plan
One morning, not long after the Carthaginians had driven the Romans back over the Trebia, Malchus was ordered to Hannibal’s tent. While this happened regularly, he always felt a tremor of excitement when the summons arrived. After so many years of waiting for revenge on Rome, Malchus still thrilled to be in the presence of the man who had finally begun the war.
He found Hannibal in pensive mood. The general barely glanced up as Malchus entered. As ever, he was leaning over his campaign table, studying a map of the area. Maharbal, his cavalry commander, stood beside him, talking in a low voice. A thin man with long, curly black hair and an easy grin, Maharbal was popular with officers and ordinary troops alike.
Malchus came to a halt several steps from the table. He stiffened to attention. ‘Reporting for duty, sir.’
Hannibal straightened. ‘Malchus, welcome.’
‘You asked to see me, sir?’
‘I did.’ Still deep in thought, Hannibal rubbed a finger across his lips. ‘I have a question to ask you.’
‘Anything, sir.’
‘Maharbal and I have come up with a plan. An ambush, to be precise.’
‘Sounds interesting, sir,’ said Malchus eagerly.
‘We’re hoping that the Romans might send a patrol across the river,’ Hannibal went on. ‘Maharbal here will organise the cavalry that will fall upon the enemy, but I want some infantry there too. They will lie in wait at the main ford, and prevent any stragglers from escaping.’
Malchus grinned fiercely. ‘I’d be honoured to take part, sir.’
‘I didn’t have you in mind.’ Seeing Malchus’ face fall, Hannibal explained, ‘I’m not losing one of my most experienced officers in a skirmish. I was thinking of your sons, Bostar and Sapho.’
Malchus swallowed his disappointment. ‘They’d be well suited to a job like this, sir, and I’m sure delighted to be picked for it.’
‘I thought so.’ Hannibal paused for a moment. ‘And so to my question. What about your other son?’
Malchus blinked in surprise. ‘Hanno?’
‘Is he battle-ready yet?’
‘I put him into training straight after he returned, sir. Not being in Carthage, it was a little improvised, but he performed well.’ Malchus hesitated. ‘I’d say that he’s ready to be commissioned as an officer.’
‘Good, good. Could he lead a phalanx?’
Malchus gaped. ‘Are you serious, sir?’
‘I’m not in the habit of making jokes, Malchus. The crossing of the mountains left many units without officers to command them.’
‘Of course, sir, of course.’ Malchus gathered his thoughts. ‘Before Hanno was lost at sea, I would have had grave reservations.’
‘Why?’ Hannibal’s gaze was as fierce as a hawk’s.
‘He was a bit of a wastrel, sir. Only interested in fishing and girls.’
‘That’s hardly a crime, is it?’ Hannibal chuckled. ‘I thought he was too young to serve in the army back then?’
‘He was, sir,’ Malchus admitted. ‘And, to be fair, he was excellent when it came to lessons in military tactics. He was skilled at hunting too.’
‘Good qualities. So, has your opinion changed since his return?’
‘It has, sir,’ Malchus replied confidently. ‘He’s changed. The things he experienced and had to live through would have broken many boys, but it didn’t Hanno. He is a man now.’
‘You’re sure?’
Malchus met his general’s gaze squarely. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Fine. I want you and your three sons back here in an hour. That’ll be all.’ Hannibal turned back to Maharbal.
‘Thank you, sir.’ Grinning with excitement, Malchus saluted and withdrew.
Confusion filled Hanno when his father told him the news.
‘What does he want with a junior officer like me?’
‘I couldn’t say,’ Malchus replied neutrally.
Hanno’s stomach twisted into a knot. ‘Are Sapho and Bostar also to be present?’
‘They are.’
That did little to reassure Hanno. Had he done something wrong?
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Malchus. ‘Make sure you’re there in half an hour.’
‘Yes, Father.’ With a racing mind, Hanno set to polishing his new helmet and breastplate. He didn’t stop until his arms burned. Then he rubbed his leather sandals with grease until they glistened. When he was done, Hanno hurried to his father’s tent where there was a large bronze mirror. To his relief, Malchus wasn’t there. He scowled
