Hannibal: Clouds of War (50 page)

‘That’s right,’ said Pera. ‘If I had been there, I would have done my duty like any of you. I’d have happily laid down my life.’

‘Happily? I’m sure you would.’ Corax’s tone gave the lie to his words. ‘I will listen to my men. Then you can have your say.’

‘As a ranking officer, I should speak first!’

Corax turned his back. Pera’s face went puce with rage, but he did not move.

‘Tell me everything,’ Corax ordered Quintus.

Quintus laid out his idea, from the hoplite he had seen during the negotiations to the details of their night-time mission.

‘Why didn’t you come to me first off, when you realised how low the wall was?’ demanded Corax.

‘I didn’t think you’d believe me, sir. I wanted to be absolutely sure.’ And I wanted to stop Pera, Quintus wanted to add. He held his breath, praying that Corax would understand.

‘You swear this to be the truth?’

Quintus sensed how important it was that Corax believed him. ‘Yes, sir. On my life.’

Corax glanced at Urceus, Placidus and the rest. ‘Is it as Crespo says?’

‘It is, sir. May Jupiter, Optimus Maximus, strike me down if I lie,’ said Urceus.

The other hastati bobbed their heads and muttered their agreement.

Scowling, Corax studied their faces as he had never done before.

Pera could contain himself no longer. ‘They’re lying whoresons, all of them! They’re planning to go over to the Syracusans. Last night’s exercise was just a trial run for when the whole damn contubernium deserts. Marcellus must hear of this!’ He made as if to go.

‘STAY, PERA.’ Corax’s voice was parade-ground loud. ‘You will not say a word to Marcellus.’

Like a whipped cur, Pera obeyed. When he wheeled, however, his eyes were murderous. ‘How will you stop me?’

Corax strode to Pera’s side and grabbed his arm. Leaning close, he began to speak in a quiet voice. Quintus strained his ears, but he could only hear snatches of what Corax was saying: ‘That damn horse race’, ‘cheating’, ‘Enna’, ‘massacre’, ‘completely unnecessary’.

At this stage, Pera pulled free of Corax’s grasp. ‘Fuck you,’ he hissed. ‘None of that matters to Marcellus. He’ll still believe that these whoresons of yours are traitors.’

‘If you won’t listen to sense …’ said Corax. He lowered his voice even further, meaning Quintus couldn’t catch his exact words.

The colour, and the fight, drained from Pera’s face. ‘W-what did you say?’

‘You fucking heard me. I have witnesses as well. You know who they will be,’ Corax growled. ‘I can’t predict Marcellus’ reaction, but I imagine it will be harsh – despite your relationship.’

Pera’s jaw clenched and unclenched. ‘The price for your silence?’

‘Your baseless charges against my soldiers will never be brought up again.’

‘And the wall at Galeagra?’

‘I will tell Marcellus about that, as if I had noticed it myself during the talks.’

Pera seemed about to protest, and Corax went for the jugular. ‘If you don’t agree, I will ensure that by nightfall every man in the army knows what has passed between us.’

Quintus had never seen Pera look so deflated. ‘Very well.’

‘We understand each other then.’ Corax glanced at his men as if nothing had happened. ‘Salute the centurion!’

Quintus and the other hastati obeyed with alacrity. Pera barely noticed.

‘Back to our tent lines,’ cried Corax. ‘At the double.’

The group marched off, each man still not quite believing what had happened. They had been delivered from the threat of execution, and also from Pera’s blackmail. Their plan, which had crumbled to dust before their very eyes, had miraculously succeeded. Quintus had caught the look that Pera shot after Corax as they passed, however. His centurion had a new enemy. Yet Quintus didn’t feel
that
concerned. Corax was more than capable of handling himself, of dealing with sewer rats such as Pera. He had just proved it.

Quintus’ spirits rose with each passing moment.

From now on, Pera would be less likely to harass him too.

Chapter XXII

‘
REMIND ME AGAIN
why we’re doing this,’ muttered Hanno.

‘Because it will please the goddess – and because it’s crazy, of course. That’s why you came along, isn’t it?’ Kleitos laughed quietly.

They were standing in the shadows beneath Syracuse’s main southern gate, a grand affair that stood taller than three men and which was guarded on each side by a strong tower. Hanno regarded fifteen of Kleitos’ best soldiers, who waited nearby. Between them, they were restraining three deer and a decent-sized boar. Being prey animals, the deer had stopped struggling against the ropes that bound them, but the boar was a different matter altogether. The bindings around his feet, and the fact that he was hanging upside down from a hefty branch borne by four men, did not stop him thrashing to and fro and squealing in anger. Every so often, his efforts would unbalance one of those carrying him, and the whole party would stagger about until they regained control.

‘The sentries think this is hilarious,’ said Hanno dourly, ‘but it’ll be a different bloody matter when we’re outside the walls. The Romans can’t fail to hear the noisy bastard.’

‘They’ll think it’s a demon, come to take their souls,’ replied Kleitos with a chuckle. He shifted the long, leather-bound package on his back into a more comfortable position.

Hanno stifled his curiosity. He had asked what it was, but Kleitos, winking, wouldn’t tell him. ‘Maybe. Or maybe they’ll send a patrol to see what’s going on.’

‘You don’t have to come, my friend.’

Stung, Hanno scowled. ‘All right, I’ll stop complaining. Let’s hope that it’s worth it, eh?’

‘Who are we to argue with the high priestess of Artemis? She has decreed that nothing could please the goddess more than a grand sacrifice at the triple junction of the marshes, the land and the sea. Artemis loves nothing more than transition, you see.’ Kleitos eyed the grey-bearded priest who was to accompany them.

‘It sounds promising.’ Hanno stifled his misgivings. If it wasn’t up to him, a foreigner, to question the wisdom of venturing beyond the defences at night with a protesting boar, it wasn’t his place either to query where it was done, or the decision to offer up animals that were usually considered sacred to Artemis. If it was so important, why wasn’t the priestess here too? Stop it, he thought. Just enjoy the madness. There was no doubt that this crazy enterprise appealed to the risk-taking side of his nature – the one that had once seen him attack a trio of armed bandits with no weapon of his own, in the process saving Aurelia’s brother Quintus’ life. Where was Quintus now? he wondered. Somewhere out there in the Roman camp, surrounded by comrades. He felt a stab of envy.

Epicydes would be pleased by their enterprise – their successful sacrifice to Artemis, the goddess of the hunt, on the first night of a three-day festival in her honour. It would reveal that his continued defence of Syracuse had divine approval. The city’s inhabitants would love the tale – how a daring party of their soldiers had sneaked out and sacrificed to Artemis, right under the Romans’ noses. It would raise morale, which had slumped somewhat during the long winter months. And if they failed? At least he’d have Kleitos, a true comrade, by his side. A trace of guilt clutched at him. Aurelia would have hated the very idea of this dangerous mission, so he hadn’t told her about it. ‘I’m not even going to ask how the animals were trapped and then brought inside the city without the Romans noticing,’ he said.

‘You should have a good idea, living out by Euryalus. Epicydes sent out the best hunters in Syracuse; they used the tunnels both to leave and to return.’

‘Gods, but that was risky. If they had been discovered, the Romans would have taken the damn city.’

‘Yet they got away with it.’ The smell of wine was thick on Kleitos’ breath. ‘The goddess was smiling on the hunting party, as she is on us. It is she who has ensured that there are plenty of clouds in the sky.’

I’d rather put my trust in my sword arm, and yours, and those of your men, thought Hanno. He offered up a prayer to Baal Saphon, asking him to watch over them, and to keep the boar quiet, or the Romans deaf to its protests. A knot of worry twisted in his belly, and he begged Artemis’ forgiveness that he, a foreigner, should commune with his own deities. I mean no disrespect, Great Huntress, he said silently.

There was a low whistle from above. The guard captain, a solid veteran with a dented helmet, approached. ‘That’s the all clear. There’s been no sign of the Roman whoresons since sundown. Go now, and may the gods protect you.’ He lowered his voice so that the priest couldn’t hear. ‘Give that fucking boar a stab from me.’

‘I will,’ replied Kleitos, chuckling.

The guard captain gestured at the six of his men who were standing ready by the entrance. They bent their backs and lifted the great wooden locking bar from its supports. Laying it quietly to one side, they pulled open one of the gates. To Hanno’s surprise, it made little sound.

‘We oiled it specially for you boys,’ whispered the captain with a sly grin. ‘We’ll shut it after you, but we will be ready for your return. Don’t forget the signal for us to open up.’

‘Two short whistles, then a long one and three short,’ said Kleitos.

‘That’s it. Good luck.’

Kleitos eyed Hanno, who signalled his readiness. The priest drew his cloak closer around his body and nodded.

‘Follow me!’ Kleitos called in a low voice to his men. It was as if the boar sensed the danger that they were about to expose themselves to. Its shrieking redoubled. Hanno longed to slice its throat from ear to hairy ear, but he stayed his hand. Even if he didn’t truly believe in Artemis, it wasn’t worth upsetting her. Like many deities, the Huntress was reputed to have a prickly, fickle nature.

With Kleitos, Hanno and the priest in the lead, they stole out on to the causeway that led south, towards the villages around Cape Pachynus, the southeastern tip of Sicily. In peacetime it was a busy thoroughfare, but nowadays nothing touched its gravelled surface except an occasional night-time scout, or a Roman envoy. Well used to the dark by this stage, Hanno peered into the gloom before them. He saw nothing, which wasn’t surprising. Because of the marshes, which rolled almost to the bottom of the walls, the enemy fortifications here were further away than they were at other points around the city. Hanno didn’t relax even a little. The boar’s squealing would easily carry the ten stadia that lay between them and thousands of legionaries. According to Kleitos, it was about a third of that distance to the spot that the priestess had recommended. By the time they’d reached it, the Romans would have had time to respond to the unusual noise.

The boar grunted and lashed its head from side to side, making the men carrying him stagger. ‘Stupid fucking beast,’ said one of them, throwing a kick at it, but his blow missed. The boar resumed its squealing, alternating the sound with deep grunting. Kleitos laughed again, and Hanno had to smile. Hopefully, the Roman sentries would be terrified by the unearthly racket.

They made good progress along the causeway, which was straight, and wide enough for two wagons to pass abreast. It was a case of moving at speed, thought Hanno. Get in, get the job done, get out. That’s all they had to do. His eyes scanned the road before them yet another time. Nothing. Out over the waves to his left, a night bird called. It was answered by another, and then another.

‘Here,’ said the priest suddenly.

Hanno looked. It was as well that the old man was with them. He would never have spotted the tiny path that led off the causeway towards the sea.

With a great deal of sweating and muttered curses, the deer and boar were manhandled down the gravel bank that formed part of the road’s foundation. Kleitos and the priest followed, leaving Hanno and five of the soldiers to keep watch. ‘How far away will you be?’ he called after them.

‘About a hundred paces, apparently,’ replied Kleitos.

‘I’ll put two men on the path then, thirty-odd steps apart. If I hear anything, you’ll know about it at once.’

‘Very well.’

‘Kill the boar first if you can.’

‘I’ll mention it to the priest.’ With that, Kleitos was gone.

‘Gather round,’ Hanno ordered. His five men obeyed with alacrity. They were experienced soldiers, with well-maintained equipment and weapons. Following Kleitos’ orders, all metalwork they wore – helmets, shield rims, armour, greaves – had been smeared with mud to render it less visible. ‘Clearly, we don’t want to see as much as a Roman’s pubic hair out here.’

They smiled, reassuring Hanno. Scared men didn’t have a sense of humour.

‘If we’re going to, though, we’ll need to know about it as fast as possible. Who’s the fastest runner among you?’

‘Me, sir,’ said a wiry soldier with a thick black beard.

‘And the second?’

The wiry soldier glanced at his companions. ‘Him.’ He indicated a man with a Gorgon’s face on his shield, who grinned.

‘Head out along the causeway, both of you. Count out the distance carefully. I want one man five hundred paces from here, and the other at two hundred and fifty.’ The lead soldier would be damn close to the Roman siege wall. Hanno waited to see if there’d be any protest, but the pair didn’t even flinch. Good, he thought. ‘You’ll hear some sounds from the enemy line. Sentries talking, moving to and fro – you know. I don’t care about any of that, unless you think it’s a patrol. If that happens, you run back here like the wind itself. Clear?’