Hannibal: Clouds of War (45 page)

Quintus felt the timbers move as they advanced on to the jetty, but he didn’t look back. He couldn’t. There was an open space at the end of the planking and he hared towards it. The boat’s sail was up now. Despite the shelter provided by the walls, there was some breeze to fill it. He would have one chance before the craft was beyond his reach.

Quintus slowed up enough to plunge into the sea head first, with his arms outstretched. He was no expert, but he’d often seen the men who dived for shellfish off the coast of Campania. The water was shockingly cold. Kicking out with his arms and legs, Quintus shot above the surface in a great spray of droplets. The boat was perhaps fifteen paces from him, and picking up speed fast. Pera was watching him, his face inscrutable. Quintus swam for the vessel with all of his strength. From the jetty came the sound of men fighting. Marius was still alive, then. Despite his growing distance from the vessel, new determination filled Quintus. His comrade’s sacrifice must not be in vain.

Quintus’ sense of time and space vanished. He felt the sting of salt in his eyes, the burn of it at the back of his mouth, and his limbs powering him along. Ahead, he saw only the boat. Finally, incredibly, he was almost within reach of it. With a huge effort, he swam close enough to touch its hull. The fisherman saw him, and Quintus prayed that it was he who reached out a hand. But it was Pera whose face appeared over the side, whose hand bore an oar like a weapon. Shocked, Quintus swallowed a mouthful of water and flailed backwards, trying to get away.
He’s going to brain me.

‘Two people rowing would give us more speed,’ said a voice – the fisherman.

Disappointment flickered in Pera’s eyes; he changed his grip on the oar and extended it to Quintus. ‘Grab a hold!’

Still wary, Quintus obeyed. To his relief, Pera pulled him in and held out his other hand. They shared a look – of mutual dislike, even hatred – before Quintus lifted his arm from the water towards Pera’s.

‘Quickly, quickly,’ urged the fisherman as Quintus landed sprawling on the deck. ‘The artillerymen won’t sit about!’

Quintus’ gaze shot not to the ramparts but to where Marius had stood. He saw only a bloody corpse. You died well, brother, he thought sadly. Several enemy soldiers had run to the end of the jetty, from where they hurled their spears. None had the range to reach the boat, nor, it seemed, did they know how to sail. Not a man among them climbed into any of the other fishing craft. Heartened by this, Quintus made obscene gestures at them. ‘Fuck you, you whoresons!’

‘Don’t waste your breath.’ An oar was shoved at him. ‘Take this and row,’ ordered Pera.

‘Sir.’ Quintus took the oar, little more than a length of wood with one end that was slightly thicker than the other, and lowered it into the crude rowlock, and thence into the water.

‘On my count. One. Two. Three. Pull!’ said Pera. ‘One. Two. Three. Pull!’

With the wind filling the sail, their efforts helped the boat to travel over the waves at a respectable clip. It was two thousand paces to the far side, but at four hundred, they’d be out of range of the enemy artillery. Quintus judged that the boat had already travelled a quarter of that distance. He eyed the ramparts nervously. Still no activity there.

‘I can’t remember the last time there was an east wind in this harbour,’ said the fisherman. ‘It never happens.’

‘Fortuna must have sat on Eurus’ cock today,’ Pera pronounced. ‘He’s in a good mood.’

Quintus had to smile, for all that he hated Pera. Eurus, the Greek god of the east wind, was regarded as the bringer of ill fortune, yet it was thanks to him that the boat was moving so fast.

Whizzzz!

The all-too-familiar sound made Quintus’ gorge rise. There was a blur of movement some distance off to his right, and a splash as a large arrow scythed into the sea.

‘Row! Row!’ yelled the fisherman.

Quintus and Pera bent their backs. Their oars rose and fell in near unison, over and over.

It was as if the first missile had been a sign to the other artillerymen.
Whizzzz! Whizzzz! Whizzzz! Whizzzz!
The air filled with the deadly noise, and the water around the boat was struck again and again as the arrows landed. One hit the deck by the base of the mast, and another punched a hole in the sail, but that was the only damage. A second volley came close on the heels of the first, but again the little boat and its occupants escaped serious damage.

Just as suddenly as it had begun, the volleys ended. Quintus felt nervous rather than pleased. They were at the limit of the bolt-throwers’ range, which meant that the stone-throwers would be next. They began shooting an instant later, yet this barrage too was desultory. About half a dozen rocks were loosed before the boat was left alone to complete its voyage.

Perhaps their ammunition was too valuable to waste on a couple of spies, thought Quintus. He didn’t wait for Pera’s command. Lifting his oar from the water, he slumped down beside it on the deck. The centurion glared, but then he too did the same. They sat in silence. Quintus couldn’t put Marius’ death from his mind, nor the image of Pera ordering the fisherman to move off from the jetty without them. His grief morphed into white-hot anger. ‘You were going to leave us behind, sir.’

‘Bullshit. I thought you had been caught.’

‘Even when we were on the jetty, sir?’

‘It was imperative to get the boat out into the harbour. I assumed you could both swim,’ snapped Pera.

‘Marius couldn’t, sir.’ He wanted to add, ‘If you’d also been there, we might have saved him,’ but didn’t dare.

‘Well, we’ve all heard the tale of how you saved a comrade from drowning. You would have been able to get out to the boat!’

Quintus didn’t answer. What point was there? Pera would deny every accusation, and even more so when they got back to their own kind. There, Quintus’ lowly status would render his testimony worthless. I should have left the prick to be discovered by the soldiers, he brooded. If I had, the guards at the gate wouldn’t have been suspicious of us, and Marius would still be alive. Right then and there, Quintus considered killing Pera. As before, it was the presence of another that stopped him. To ensure that he didn’t talk afterwards, Quintus would have to murder the fisherman in cold blood – and that he was not prepared to do.

‘I wonder who it was that told Epicydes of our plan?’ mused Pera.

That
detail came crashing back, and again Quintus had to bite his lip. The officer in charge of the soldiers with the captive had mentioned Attalus. It couldn’t be coincidence, Quintus decided. This was no longer just about Marius’ death, and how Pera would have left them both to die. The whole damn conspiracy – Marcellus’ great plan to end the siege – had gone up in flames because Pera had not been prepared to win over one more man. Gods, but what would Marcellus do if he found
that
out?

Quintus eyed Pera sidelong. The centurion hadn’t heard what he had, or he wouldn’t be wondering how their efforts had come to nothing. Yet Quintus couldn’t say a word about that either, or Pera would try to murder him for the second time. A mixture of fury and frustration stung him. It would be best to keep his mouth shut entirely.

It was a bitter medicine to swallow. Even Urceus would have to be kept in the dark, in case his temper got the better of him. Quintus didn’t want another death on his conscience. Impotent rage swelled within him now. Pera would emerge from this as the courageous officer who had risked his life for Rome, only to see his efforts come to nothing through events beyond his control. Quintus would be nothing more than the hastatus who had followed orders, and Marius the soldier who had died in the line of duty.

When an old adage that Quintus’ father had been fond of came to mind, he was grateful. ‘If the time to strike an enemy isn’t right, stay your arm. Retreat if needs be. Keep your blade sharp. Keep it ready. One day, your opportunity will come.’

‘Ho, Hanno!’

Hanno turned his eyes from the magnificent view of Ortygia and the Great Harbour. He was standing on the battlements of the Euryalus fort, and had been looking south. Kleitos was hailing him, so he walked to meet his friend, who was climbing the staircase from the courtyard below. ‘What’s brought you all the way over here?’

‘The wine, of course!’ Kleitos clapped him on the shoulder; Hanno did the same back.

Kleitos’ unanticipated appearance in Syracuse a couple of weeks after his and Aurelia’s return – a consequence of Hippocrates wanting further news relayed to his brother – had been a joy to them both. Their duties kept them apart most days, but they had made up for that in the evenings, meeting up for regular drinking sessions. Kleitos rarely mentioned what had happened in Enna, but it was obvious that he appreciated Hanno’s company. With Kleitos still his only friend in Syracuse apart from Aurelia, Hanno felt the same.

‘You were taking the air and enjoying the vista, I assume?’ Kleitos gestured grandly over the rampart.

‘Yes. It’s not as spectacular as Akragas, but it’s worth a look.’

‘Aye. It was nicer there because there were no Romans in sight.’ Kleitos spat in the direction of the enemy fortifications, clearly visible beyond the marshy land that led from the walls to the River Anapos, which discharged into the Great Harbour.

‘That was part of it,’ admitted Hanno. His command when he’d first arrived in Syracuse had been on the seaward-facing defences. After the initial naval assault, it had been unusual to see the Romans at all, apart from an occasional trireme in the distance. It was a different matter here and at his new unit’s position, not far from the Hexapyla gate. Marcellus’ enclosing walls were a constant reminder that the siege continued. ‘But you didn’t come looking for me to go on the piss. It’s not late enough.’

‘You know me too well.’ Kleitos’ face grew more serious. ‘Is Aurelia about?’

‘She’s in the house. You know how it is,’ Hanno replied, registering the first traces of alarm. Since her encounter with Pox Face in Akragas, she had stayed indoors as much as possible during daylight hours. It was hard on her, but they both agreed it was better than another guard recognising her from her time in the palace. Remaining incognito was another reason that they were living here, far from the centre of Syracuse. Hanno hadn’t mentioned it to a soul, but he had also picked out Euryalus because of the network of tunnels that ran beneath it. Their main purpose was to allow defenders to appear from unexpected points and fall upon any attackers who made it within the strongly defended gates. But there was one – kept secret from all except senior officers – that ran under the walls for three stadia, emerging in a little defile. If the city ever fell, Hanno wanted a way out. Escape might be possible by sea, yet it was always best to have more than one plan. ‘I hope you haven’t come about her?’

‘No, no. There’s no reason to be concerned for Aurelia.’ He saw Hanno’s frown. ‘Nor about yourself.’

‘That’s good.
You
know that I’m as loyal as anyone, but with all the denunciations, well … How many men have been executed now?’

‘There was a real plot to turn the city over to the Romans, my friend. The spies killed a number of soldiers during their escape, and they were seen sailing off from the fishermen’s jetty close to Ortygia.’

‘I know.’ Hanno had heard the tale of the three Romans who had tricked and fought their way past the sentries and stolen a boat. Two of them had managed to get completely away, somehow avoiding the artillery barrage. Brave men, he thought. ‘So many of them confessed when they were arrested that Attalus must have been telling the truth. I’ve heard rumours, however, that some of the men who were seized were guilty of nothing more than being an enemy of his. I’ve had few dealings with him, but those that I’ve had have been unpleasant. He’s a little rat of a man. We’re fortunate that the conspirators didn’t include him in their plot. If they had, Attalus would have had no cause to feel left out, and I’d wager that he would have happily joined them. By now, the city would be in Roman hands.’

‘I won’t argue with you about that,’ said Kleitos. ‘But Attalus wouldn’t be stupid enough to accuse you. Hannibal sent you, for a start!’

For the first time in an age, Hanno thought of Hostus, one of his father’s enemies in Carthage. ‘Believe it or not, some of my people
would
sell us out to the Romans.’

‘Maybe so, but you’re not one of them. In fact, your loyalty is why I’m here.’ He winked as Hanno’s interest grew clear. ‘A little bird told me that you’re to be ordered to the palace in the morning. Epicydes is sending an envoy to Philip of Macedon, and he wants to talk to you about it before the messenger leaves.’

Surprise filled Hanno. Hannibal will want to hear about this, he thought. ‘Really?’

‘Maybe it’s because that prick Hippocrates isn’t here. He’s the more dominant brother, but Epicydes has a cooler head on his shoulders.’

‘He does,’ replied Hanno. Epicydes hadn’t mistreated him since his return, but nor had he asked anything of him but the most ordinary duties. ‘It’s excellent news that he’s asking Philip for help. Once Hannibal secures a port, the Macedonians could land in Italy – as well as my people, obviously.’

‘I hope to see that day. And if I have anything to do with it, Syracuse will also send Hannibal aid when the Romans have been beaten here.’

‘This calls for a drink,’ declared Hanno, delighted. ‘You’ll come back to the house?’

‘Only if you insist,’ replied Kleitos with a smile.

‘Aurelia will be glad to see you. She finds the confinement hard.’

‘Well, it won’t last forever. When Himilco arrives with his army, the balance will tip in our favour again.’

‘That’s what I tell her, but she worries about what may happen when Hippocrates returns,’ said Hanno, scowling.
May the gods grant me the chance to kill him then
.

‘We’ll keep her hidden until the Romans have been smashed, my friend, never fear. When your mission is complete, you can travel to Italy with her.’

Hanno nodded and made as if he were pleased, which he was – mostly. It wasn’t ideal that Aurelia should become a camp follower once more, and follow him all over Italy, but it seemed the only way that they could avoid being parted.