Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

‘I saw that you were afraid,’ his father said. ‘I would have intervened, but you had made me promise not to.’

Quintus flushed, and opened his mouth to speak.

Fabricius raised a hand. ‘Your reaction was normal, despite what some might say. But your determination to succeed, even if you died in the attempt, was stronger than your fear. You were right to make me swear not to step in.’ He clapped Quintus on the arm. ‘The gods have favoured you.’

Quintus remembered the two woodpeckers he’d seen, and smiled.

‘As you are to be a soldier, we shall have to visit the temple of Mars as well as that of Diana.’ Fabricius winked. ‘There’s also the small matter of buying a toga.’

Quintus beamed. Visits to Capua were always to be looked forward to. Living in the countryside afforded few opportunities for socialising or pleasure. They could visit the public baths and his father’s old comrade, Flavius Martialis. Flavius’ son, Gaius, was the same age as he was, and the two got along famously. Gaius would love to hear the story of the bear hunt.

First, though, he had to tell Aurelia and his mother. They would be waiting eagerly for news.

While Agesandros and the slaves stayed to bury the tattooed Gaul and to fashion carrying poles for the bear, Quintus and his father headed for home.

It didn’t take the Egyptian long to sell the friends. Thanks to the impending games at Capua, sales at the Neapolis slave market were brisk. There were few specimens on sale to compare with the two Carthaginians’ muscular build, or the Numidians’ wiry frames, and buyers crowded round the naked men, squeezing their arms and staring into their eyes for signs of fear. Although Hanno’s miserable demeanour was not that of a combatant, he impressed nonetheless. Cleverly, the Egyptian refused to sell them except as a pair. Several dealers bid against each other to purchase the two friends, and the eventual victor was a dour Latin by the name of Solinus. He also bought four of the Egyptian’s other captives.

Hanno took little notice of what was going on in the noisy market place. Suniaton’s efforts to revive his spirits with whispers of encouragement were futile. Hanno felt more hopeless than he ever had in his life. Since surviving the storm, every possible chance of redemption had turned to dust. Unknowingly, they had rowed out to sea rather than towards the land. Instead of a merchant vessel, fate had brought them the bireme. In a heaven-sent opportunity, Carthaginians had been present at Neapolis, but he hadn’t been able to speak to them. Lastly, they were to be sold as gladiators rather than the more common classes of slaves, which guaranteed their death. What more proof did he need that the gods had forgotten them completely? Hanno’s misery coated him like a heavy, wet blanket.

Along with an assortment of Gauls, Greeks and Iberians, the six captives were marched out of the town and on to the dusty road to Capua. It was twenty miles from Neapolis to the Campanian capital, a long day’s walk at most, but Solinus broke the journey with an overnight stop at a roadside inn. As the prisoners watched miserably, the Latin and his guards sat down to enjoy a meal of wine, roast pork and freshly baked bread. All the captives got was a bucket of water from the well, which afforded each man no more than half a dozen mouthfuls. At length, however, a servant delivered several stale loaves and a platter of cheese rinds. However paltry the portions, the waste food tasted divine, and revived the captives greatly. As Suniaton bitterly told Hanno, they would be worth far less if they arrived in Capua at death’s door. It was therefore worth spending a few coppers on provisions, however poor.

Hanno didn’t respond. Suniaton soon gave up trying to raise his spirits, and they sat in silence. Deep in their own misery, and strangers to each other, none of the other slaves spoke either. As it grew dark, they lay down side by side, staring at the glittering vista of stars illuminating the night sky. It was a beautiful sight, reminding Hanno again of Carthage, the home he would never see again. His emotions quickly got the better of him, and, grateful for the darkness, he sobbed silently into the crook of an elbow.

Their current suffering was nothing. What was to come would be far worse.