Hannibal: Clouds of War (32 page)

‘You have to. Even on the other side of the river, you’ll have to move fast. I’ll slow you down.’

Hanno glanced at Aurelia, hissed, ‘She’s right.’

Aurelia hesitated, before gripping the woman’s arm in farewell. ‘The gods be with you.’

‘And with you.’ From the folds of her dress, she produced a dagger. ‘Maybe I can take one of them with me.’

Hanno dragged Aurelia away. Half walking, half running, he guided her down the slope, over the mass of equipment, weapons and bodies. When Hanno looked back, the woman’s huddled shape had nearly been swallowed up by the wall of advancing Romans. It was a faint hope that she would die fast, but Hanno prayed for it anyway. It was the least she deserved.

They reached the water’s edge a short distance from the ford, which had become impassable due to the number of men trying to cross. Hanno quickly took off his cuirass. Flanked by scores of others with the same idea, they managed to swim across. Once on the other side, like any prey that is being hunted, they looked behind them. The Roman line had almost reached the bottom of the slope. A moment later, there was a sickening crash as the legionaries struck the mass of Syracusans clustered by the ford. Hanno did his best to ignore the screaming that followed. He hoped that Kleitos in particular made it through what was to come. Urging Aurelia onward, he headed for the safety of the trees that fringed the valley’s eastern end. Dozens of soldiers ran alongside them. The same haunted look was on all their faces. No one spoke, because there was nothing to say.

Hanno didn’t come to a halt until the muscles in his legs were trembling with exhaustion. Aurelia had made no complaint, but she too looked ready to drop. They were deep in the forest, and a good height above the valley, level with the cloud of vultures that waited in the air overhead. In the distance, sounds of combat – men’s cries, the clash of weapons – could still be heard, but they hadn’t seen another soul for some time. ‘Let’s rest a little,’ he said.

Aurelia sank to the ground with a groan.

Thank you for your protection, Baal Saphon, thought Hanno fervently. Stay with us.

After a while, Aurelia lifted her head. ‘What should we do?’

‘Not so fast,’ said Hanno, finding his anger. ‘What in all the gods’ names were you doing in the followers’ camp?’

She had the grace to blush. ‘The thought of not seeing you for only the gods know how long was too much to bear. What if you hadn’t come back at all?’

‘When were you going to seek me out?’

‘Once we made contact with Himilco. I didn’t want to interfere with your duties before that.’

He wanted to shake her. ‘Your foolishness nearly got you killed! If Deon hadn’t seen you—’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’ She began to weep.

His anger melted away. He had rescued her; they had got away. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said, ‘You’re here now. We’re together.’

In a crazy way, life had just taken a turn for the better, he decided. If they could avoid the Romans, safety in the town of Akragas – a natural target for Himilco to take – beckoned.

Chapter XV

ONE BRIGHT MORNING
, Corax and Vitruvius summoned their men at dawn. This in itself wasn’t unusual, but the grim set to the centurions’ faces as they went from tent to tent told its own story.

‘I knew that things were too good to last,’ grumbled Urceus under his breath as he clambered from his blankets.

‘To be fair, we have had it easy enough since Hippocrates had his arse kicked,’ said Mattheus, yawning. ‘But it looked bad when Himilco and his bloody army arrived, eh?’

There were rumbles of agreement from the rest, including Quintus.

‘But Marcellus knew what he was doing.’ As ever, Mattheus was ready to talk from the moment his eyes opened. ‘Why leave the safety of our walls when we could stay where we were and shout obscenities at the guggas. Off they went, soon enough, to try and ambush the new legion that had arrived from Italy.’

There were a few guilty chuckles at this. No one would have wished the reinforcements ill, thought Quintus. Indeed, they were very welcome, but his and his comrades’ skins mattered more than those of soldiers whom they didn’t even know. ‘It was good, though, that Himilco missed catching them,’ he said. ‘Their commander’s decision to take the coastal road was smart, because our fleet was able to follow the legion as protection.’

‘Aye, they were a sight for sore eyes when they came marching in,’ declared Urceus. ‘Especially when the guggas arrived the following morning. Those were a tense few days, after, but Marcellus held his nerve, making us stay put behind our fortifications. When we refused to fight, Himilco couldn’t do much else but piss off.’ His face darkened again. ‘Things have been nice and quiet since. Why do I suspect that that’s about to change?’

Quintus nodded grimly. Corax had a plan. He prayed that it wasn’t too risky. They would ultimately have to fight Himilco’s soldiers, but for the moment, manning the walls around Syracuse was preferable to just about any other duty.

‘You seem suitably pleased to see me on this bright morning,’ shouted Corax when they had assembled before him. Wrong-footed, his men glanced at one another, and the centurion chuckled a little at his own joke. ‘Marching up and down on sentry duty appeals, I know. But it won’t win the damn war on Sicily, will it?’

‘No, sir,’ a few men replied.

Corax’s eyes glinted. ‘I’d like a little more enthusiasm than that.’

‘NO, SIR!’ they roared.

Corax seemed a fraction happier. ‘We’ve all been wondering what that whoreson Himilco’s next move would be. Word has come what it will be.’

In a heartbeat, Corax had everyone’s attention. The defenders of Syracuse weren’t going anywhere, but the newly arrived Carthaginian force was free to move where it wanted. Part of their duty was to ensure that Himilco didn’t find this easy.

Corax paused, and looked around. ‘Like to know where the dog is?’ he said at last.

‘YES, SIR!’

‘He’s taken his army to Murgantia, one of the towns we use as a grain store. It seems that when he arrived, the inhabitants rose against the garrison and delivered the place, and all of its supplies, to the Carthaginian cause.’

Corax did not need to drum up a response to that. Angry shouts filled the air. He nodded in approval. ‘So when you don’t have enough flour to bake your bread this winter, you know whom to blame!’

His men bellowed even louder.

‘Are we to march on Murgantia, sir?’ yelled Urceus.

‘Sadly, no,’ replied Corax. ‘Marcellus has seen fit to give this maniple another duty. Other towns are under threat as well. Have you heard of Enna?’

‘It’s in the middle of the island, and is loyal to us,’ said Quintus.

‘Correct, but it’s only loyal because of its Roman garrison. Its commander is a man called Lucius Pinarius, an able soldier who has done much to ensure that the town stays in Roman hands. For all of his hard work, however, intelligence has it that the inhabitants wish to switch their allegiance from Rome.’

There was a rumble of fury from the hastati.

‘Pinarius has sent word to Marcellus, asking for reinforcements.’ Corax paused, and let his words sink in. ‘This maniple is to be part of the force sent to answer Pinarius’ request. Our duty will be to reinforce the garrison of Enna and to follow Pinarius’ orders in all things.’

‘Until when, sir?’ called a voice.

‘Until Pinarius judges that we are no longer needed.’

The soldiers glanced at one another, uncertain what to feel. The duty could either be soft beyond compare – being quartered in a town offered far more luxuries than in a siege camp, women being foremost among them – or dangerous in the extreme. If Himilco arrived to take Enna, they could be trapped, killed even.

‘How many other soldiers, sir?’ shouted Urceus.

‘One other maniple will march with us, that of Centurion Pera.’ Corax’s voice gave away nothing, but his eyes were flat and angry.

‘The same cocksucker whom Crespo beat in the horse race, sir?’ called a voice from the very back of the maniple. Titters of laughter met the comment, and Quintus thought he saw the corner of Vitruvius’ lips twitch.

‘Just this once, I’ll pretend that I didn’t hear that,’ snapped Corax, but with less iron than might have been expected. ‘Pera is known to you, clearly. He’s an experienced centurion, and I will not tolerate any disrespect towards him. Is that fucking clear?’

‘YES, SIR!’ they shouted.

Quintus could not believe his bad luck. Of all the centurions in the damn army, why did Pera have to be picked to accompany them on their mission? He shot a look at Urceus and mouthed the word ‘Bastard’, but there was nothing else he could do.

Corax nodded in satisfaction. ‘We leave within the hour. Enna is just over eighty miles from here, and I want us there in four days. Travel light. Take only enough food for the march. Dismissed!’

The hastati scrambled to obey.

Quintus’ comrades were already dreaming out loud of the inns and whorehouses that they would frequent in Enna, but his mind was filled with the image of Pera’s grinning face. He would have to be on constant lookout for trouble.

‘Not quite what we imagined, is it?’ asked Quintus, catching the eye of a local Enna man. His friendly nod was ignored; Quintus was sure that the man made an obscene gesture as he turned abruptly down an alleyway rather than walking past him and Urceus.

‘No, it’s fucking not,’ growled Urceus, kicking out at a scrawny mongrel, which had bared its teeth at him. It yelped and ran before his sandal could connect with its flesh. ‘Even the dogs dislike us.’

Quintus grinned sourly. Barely a week had passed, yet from the innkeepers to the shop owners, the whores to the wine merchants, no one in Enna seemed well disposed towards the Romans. They did not refuse them business – that would have been downright foolish given the legionaries’ own angry mood – but it was done with a surly, discontented air. ‘They didn’t want Pinarius’ men here, so it’s no surprise really that they don’t like us either.’

Hearing a noise above, Urceus looked up. A respectable-looking matron was staring at them with clear disapproval from the second floor of a large house. ‘Want to suck my cock?’ he shouted in awful Greek. Shocked, the matron withdrew and slammed the shutters. ‘They can all go to Hades,’ said Urceus, spitting. ‘They pledged their allegiance to Rome, and that’s that, whether they like it or not.’

Quintus found himself in agreement as he was forced to walk around a particularly large pool of human urine and faeces. Every street was the same. Usually only the poorest townsfolk disposed of their waste in this fashion, and even they tended to use the dungheaps situated in the tiny lanes between buildings. Not so in Enna. The inhabitants didn’t dare to show their dislike openly to the Roman garrison, so they did it like this.

There were other ways too. Quintus wasn’t alone in having smelt the whiff of urine from a jug of wine in the dingy inns that lined the back streets. These occurrences had resulted in a number of innkeepers having their premises ransacked by irate legionaries. This in turn had seen vociferous complaints to Pinarius from the town’s leaders, and
that
had resulted in an order not to frequent such establishments on pain of a whipping, or worse. Of course this had not stopped the soldiers from doing so – Quintus and his comrades thought that Pinarius had merely issued the order for appearances’ sake – but it had seen the number of violent incidents decrease. The innkeepers knew that if they served wine that had not been tampered with, their establishments wouldn’t be smashed up beyond repair.

Reaching a fork in the street, he came to a halt. ‘Which way to the agora?’

Urceus peered left and right, scowling. ‘I don’t think it matters. Both of them will get us there, won’t they?’

‘True.’ Enna’s strong position on a hilltop, contained within walls, meant that the city was quite small. The buildings sprawled beyond the fortifications, along the sides of the road that wound its way up from the fertile valley below, but the beating heart of it – the central agora, the temples, the rulers’ palatial houses and offices and the best shops – lay within the protective circle of its imposing ramparts. ‘It’s not hard to find one’s way around, even when you’re pissed.’ He headed left.

Urceus chuckled. ‘We’ll have to find that inn we were in last night. What was it called again?’

‘It’s down this way, I think. The Harvest Moon.’

‘That’s the one. The owner was far less sour than the other arseholes here, wasn’t he? And that barmaid with the big tits definitely liked me.’

‘Ever the optimist, Urceus. She smiled at you once!’

‘That’s enough to give a man hope. Better that than the reception we’ve had in most places.’

‘True, but I still wouldn’t trust a single one of them. I’m glad that Pinarius ordered us to remain armed at all times.’

‘Aye. I wouldn’t want to walk around here alone.’

Fifty paces further on, a small wooden sign had been nailed to the wall of a house on the corner of an alley. It depicted a crudely daubed sheaf of wheat beneath a full moon; below it were the Greek words ‘
INN
’ and ‘
GOOD WINE. PRICES REASONABLE
’.