Hannibal: Clouds of War (39 page)

There were other reasons to be cheerful. By way of reward for escaping the ambush, Hippocrates had set him and Kleitos the task of regrouping the survivors into a few full-strength units outside Akragas. Pleasingly, Hanno had also been able to send word to Hannibal on a Phoenician merchant ship. The setback of the ambush on Hippocrates had not prevented him from joining forces with Himilco’s vast army, Hanno had written. In the spring, they would smash Marcellus’ legions apart.

‘You’ve got to concede that the city is stunning. Rome doesn’t even come close,’ Hanno said. ‘Nowhere in Italy does.’

‘And Carthage?’ she retorted.

‘It’s grander, but not as beautiful.’

Her eyes danced with mischief. ‘Somewhere that’s better than Carthage? How can that be possible?’

‘Hmmm.’ Hanno tried not to feel annoyed as she laughed, and failed. Aurelia was so much better at accepting perceived criticism of all things Roman than he was of anything to do with Carthage. Not wanting to spoil the mood, he diverted himself by admiring another of his favourite temples, the one dedicated to the goddess Hera. It lay on its own inside the southeast corner of the walls, and was a good spot to sit as it grew dark. Remembering the excellent inn near the third gate, which lay close to Hera’s shrine, his good mood returned. They could eat there before returning to their rooms in the quarter that lay a short distance to the north.

Discipline in Akragas was far laxer than it had been in Syracuse, allowing Hanno to spend almost every night with Aurelia. These precious hours were filled with love and laughter. No wonder it felt as if he were on extended leave, he thought with only a trace of guilt. The slow pace of life seemed to be doing Aurelia good too. Her sorrow was still there, but Hanno was finding it harder to spot. He was glad for her. What she had been through – losing three family members in quick succession – was truly horrendous. While her decision to follow him had been rash, he was no longer angry about it: he simply wanted her to experience some happiness. Hanno did his best to add to that, wooing her as he might have done if they had met in more normal circumstances.

‘It is a wonderful place,’ she said happily. ‘I could live here forever.’

‘Your Greek is coming along. It won’t be long before the locals think you’re one of them.’

‘Now you’re teasing me,’ she said, nudging him.

He grinned. ‘Doing my best to, anyway.’

They walked on in companionable silence, enjoying the sun’s heat on their backs. Hanno’s eyes drifted to the lines of smoke rising from the vast camp that filled the flat ground below the walls. Thousands of soldiers there would be preparing their evening meal. Somewhere on the island, he hoped that Quintus would be doing the same. He felt a pang for Mutt and his Libyans, back in Italy, and hoped that they were alive and well. It seemed likely that they were. The summer had seen little action, so the stalemate on the Italian peninsula continued. Hannibal still needed a port large enough to allow reinforcements to flow from his homeland, while the Romans’ every effort focused on chipping away at his allies: the cities and towns of southern Italy.

I’m not missing much, Hanno told himself. I’m doing my duty here. If Hippocrates and Himilco don’t see fit to use me, what can I do? The excuse – for that’s what it felt like – salved his conscience, but Hanno knew that by the time spring came around, he’d be raring for some action. Hannibal was also relying on him. He would try once more to gain Himilco’s ear. Aurelia glanced at him and smiled, and his heart twisted. What would happen to her then?

As they sat by the temple to Hera, his worries slipped away. Aurelia had gone inside, promising to return soon. In all likelihood, she was praying about women’s matters, but he wondered with a certain joy if it could be about marriage. The notion wasn’t so shocking, thought Hanno. Life was short and, in these times, even more uncertain than normal. Either or both of them could be dead before the next year’s campaign ended. A devilment took him. He’d ask her when she emerged. Kleitos was the only friend they had in the city, but that didn’t matter. Marriage wasn’t about having a large wedding feast, but about him and Aurelia, and their love.

Hanno’s excitement vanished when Aurelia came out looking sad. How could he have forgotten about her husband Lucius? That she was so near to her brother, yet so far? Again Hanno cursed the war for interfering in his life. In peacetime, it would have been possible to find a merchant ship travelling to Rhegium and to pay its captain to enquire there after the health of a certain Lucius Vibius Melito. It was not so now. Rhegium was in enemy territory. There was absolutely no way of finding out if Lucius had died of his injuries, and Hanno doubted that Aurelia would even consider marriage unless she were certain.

He had asked so many times if she was grieving that it felt intrusive to do so again, so Hanno put an arm around her instead. Without saying where they were going, he guided them to the inn, which was called the Grape and Grain. By the time they reached it, Aurelia had not spoken, but her mood had lifted a little. She seemed happy to go in for a drink. Hanno was thirsty for some of the locally produced wine, which was better than any he’d had in an age. Kleitos had laughed when Hanno had begun praising the stuff to him one night. ‘You wouldn’t have had reason to know, but the vineyards in the hills around Akragas are renowned,’ he’d said. ‘They make the best wines in Sicily.’

Now, ordering a large jug of the best vintage in the place, he poured them both a measure.

Looking Aurelia in the eye, he raised his cup. ‘To us.’

At last, the smile that made his belly flutter returned. ‘To us,’ she said.

By the time winter arrived, Hanno and Aurelia’s life had settled into a smooth routine. To all intents and purposes, they lived as man and wife. His duties as an army officer kept him busy during the day, allowing her to run their small household. With Elira left behind in Syracuse, Hanno had mentioned buying a slave to do the menial tasks, but Aurelia had rejected the offer out of hand. ‘Do you think I’m too grand to peel a vegetable or empty a chamber pot?’ she’d asked. Hanno had coloured.

‘Perhaps.’

She’d cuffed him then, gently. ‘Well, I’m not. I changed Publius’ underclothes myself from the first day. You wouldn’t believe what comes out of a baby’s bottom.’ A wistful look had entered her eye, and she’d added, ‘I have little enough to do when you’re not here. Keeping the place in order gives me a purpose.’

In retrospect, this had seemed obvious to Hanno, and so he began to take more pleasure in the aromatic herbs that Aurelia hung from the walls, the coloured blankets that covered the bed, and from her amusing descriptions of the markets and shops in the city. He was less impressed with some of her attempts at cooking, but had the good sense to smile and tell her that the food was delicious.

When Kleitos came calling late one blustery afternoon, with an offer to take them out to dine, Hanno accepted with alacrity. Too late, he remembered that Aurelia had already begun preparing the evening meal. ‘That is, if you would like to as well,’ he said to her.

Her lips pursed; she lifted her reddened hands from a bowl of muddied vegetables. ‘I’m nearly finished cleaning these.’

‘They can wait until tomorrow, surely?’ Kleitos darted to her side and kissed her palms. ‘Get yourself clean, and let someone else do the hard work. Consider it a little repayment from me to you both, for being such good company.’

Hanno threw Aurelia a meaningful glance. He’d told her often about how hard Kleitos was finding life in Akragas. At first, it had been because there were few Syracusans of the same rank left among Hippocrates’ men, and the local commanders and Himilco’s officers were quite clannish. Then the news of the massacre at Enna had reached the city. By most accounts, fewer than a hundred of its inhabitants had survived. Among them, no doubt, had been Kleitos’ lover. Kleitos had since been plunged into a spiral of impotent anger and overwhelming grief. His main way of dealing with it had been, and still was, to consume vast amounts of wine. He’d poured his heart out to Hanno during an all-nighter, but that had not alleviated his sorrow. This evening might be another chance for the poor bastard to unburden himself a little, thought Hanno.

Aurelia understood. She pretended to frown, before smiling. ‘You’ve won me over, Kleitos.’

He peered at her handiwork. ‘And saved you from the joys of preparing a somewhat mouldy cabbage and some extra-muddy carrots for the pot.’

Everyone laughed.

‘Where are you taking us?’ asked Hanno as he helped Aurelia don her heavy woollen cloak.

‘A place near the sanctuary to Demeter and Persephone, called the Ox and Plough. It’s an inn that I’ve not tried before, but its spit-roast lamb is reputed to be the best in Akragas.’

‘And the wine?’ Old habit made Hanno strap a dagger on to his belt. Kleitos was also wearing one and he’d placed a small cudgel by the door upon entering. Akragas was a friendly city, but after dark it was much the same as anywhere else. ‘Is it any good?’

‘Never fear, my friend. Its cellar is also respected.’

Hanno threw on his own cloak, a green hooded affair that he’d bought as the poor weather drew in. ‘Lead on, then!’

Aurelia wasn’t so eager. ‘Is there nowhere closer?’

‘Are you worried about
kleptai
?’ Kleitos enquired. He saw her blank look. ‘Thieves.’

‘Well, yes. The longer we have to walk, the more risk that we meet some, especially on the way back.’

Hanno rummaged beneath their bed and came up holding the stout staff he’d found when they had moved in. ‘I’ll take this as well. Happy?’

She nodded reluctantly.

Kleitos’ teeth flashed as he picked up his cudgel. ‘I’d like to see the kleptai who’d take me
and
Hanno on!’ Aurelia looked less than impressed, and he added, ‘The Lenaia festival is also being held at the moment, so you have little to fear. The kleptai are the same as the rest of us, too busy getting pissed to think about much else.’

‘I haven’t heard of the Lenaia,’ Aurelia said.

‘It’s held at the temple of Dionysos, and is celebrated by all married women. The whores—’ Kleitos looked embarrassed. ‘My apologies. I should have said
hetairai
. Courtesans. They are involved too.’

‘What do the women get up to?’ There was a mischievous glint to Aurelia’s expression and Hanno hid his amusement. She
did
know something about the Lenaia.

Kleitos coughed. ‘The proceedings start with a procession led by various priests, which is followed by the sacrifice of a goat. Some say that the women tear it to pieces, although I’ve never believed that myself. Maybe in the past, but not now.’

‘And after that?’

‘I couldn’t really say.’

Hanno grinned. He’d never seen Kleitos so discomfited.

Aurelia giggled. ‘Are you embarrassed, Kleitos?’

‘A little.’ He threw a glance at Hanno. ‘Damn, but you picked a spirited one, didn’t you?’

‘I wouldn’t have her any other way,’ replied Hanno, smiling. Nonetheless, he was relieved when Aurelia gave up on her interrogation. According to his soldiers, who were congregating in inns near the temple complex, there was far more to the Lenaia. After the women had finished drinking and celebrating, men would be allowed into the sanctuary, whereupon priests and priestesses supervised an all-night orgy. It was one thing to consider that he, Hanno, might partake (if Aurelia hadn’t been part of his life), but the notion that she might also set a jealous fire in his blood.

The rain and wind that they encountered on their journey put paid to any further conversation about the Lenaia, or anything else. If it continued, Hanno reflected, it would be further protection from any ill fortune befalling them on the way home. His lanolin-soaked cloak kept out the worst of the water, but he was still glad to reach the inn. ‘This lamb had better be worth it,’ he grumbled.

‘I’m paying, so what do you care?’ retorted Kleitos.

A quartet of muscled, gormless-looking men flanked the entrance. The lead one did his impression of a smile, which would have terrified most children, but told the three that they were being allowed in.

Kleitos held open the door, releasing a cacophony of noise and a blast of warm, fuggy air. ‘Get your arse inside and stop complaining. Find us a table.’

As Hanno entered, he slipped his free hand under his cloak to the hilt of his dagger. Old habits die hard, he thought, scanning the packed room. There were casual glances from the nearest customers, but no one else seemed interested, which was reassuring. The patrons were a mixture of well-to-do types, from local merchants to officers from the garrison, Hippocrates’ forces and Himilco’s army. There were some women present, although they looked to be whores. When Hanno spotted two men leaving a small table by the left wall, not too near the bar, he made a beeline for it. Kleitos and Aurelia arrived a moment later. ‘Sit here,’ he said to her, indicating the single stool. ‘Kleitos and I will take the bench against the wall.’

‘I won’t be able to see what’s going on,’ she complained.

‘Maybe so, but we will. And fewer people will notice you.’ Hanno had no need to explain further. Despite the peaceful atmosphere, the mix of customers was a recipe for potential violence.

‘Relax,’ said Kleitos, slapping his knee. ‘Every man here is likely to have his mind set on one thing only. The Lenaia.’

Hanno could see that Aurelia was on the point of quizzing Kleitos again. ‘Let’s get some wine in,’ he said loudly. Alert to danger, he scrutinised the room again.

Most customers appeared to be listening to a group of musicians with lyres and flutes, who had arrived accompanied by a singer with a reasonable voice. Others were eyeing a pair of heavily made-up whores who were working the crowd, batting away men’s roaming hands and murmuring promises in their ears. Relaxing a little, Hanno caught the eye of a barmaid.

The wine that she brought soon after was excellent. Hanno began to enjoy himself. The company was convivial, the nearby fire’s heat relaxing. Even Aurelia consumed more than normal. Kleitos drank as if he were dying of thirst, downing cup after cup of wine. Two more jugs of wine were ordered, and an hour or more had passed before they got around to ordering some of the famed roast lamb. A massive plate of it finally arrived, swimming in juices, and bordered by hunks of fresh, flat bread. They devoured it in complete silence, like small children who’ve unexpectedly been given a whole pastry.