Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

A heartbeat later, Quintus and Aurelia, Fabricius’ children, appeared at the edge of Hanno’s vision. Outrage filled both their faces.

‘What have you done?’ Aurelia cried, dropping to her knees by Hanno’s side. Although the bloodied Carthaginian was almost unrecognisable, her stomach still fluttered at the sight of him.

Hanno tried to smile at her. After Agesandros’ cruel features, she resembled a nymph or other suchlike creature.

‘Well?’ Quintus’ voice was stony. ‘Explain yourself.’

‘Your father leaves the running of the farm, and the care of the slaves, to me,’ Agesandros blustered. ‘That’s the way it has been since before you were born.’

‘And if you killed a slave? What would he say then?’ Aurelia challenged.

Agesandros was taken aback. ‘Come now,’ he said in a placating manner. ‘I was administering a beating, nothing more.’

Quintus’ laugh was derisory. ‘You were about to stamp on his head. On this rocky ground, a blow like that could stave a man’s skull in.’

Agesandros did not reply.

‘Couldn’t it?’ Quintus demanded. His fury at the Sicilian, who had looked intent on murder, had doubled when he realised the victim’s identity. Any residual awe he felt towards Agesandros had evaporated. ‘Answer me, by all the gods.’

‘I suppose so,’ Agesandros admitted sullenly.

‘Was that your intention?’ Aurelia demanded.

The Sicilian glanced at Hanno. ‘No,’ he said, folding his arms across his chest. ‘My temper got the better of me, that’s all.’

Liar, thought Hanno. Above him, Aurelia’s face twisted with disbelief, reinforcing his conviction.

Quintus could also see that Agesandros was lying, but to accuse him further would bring the situation into completely uncharted waters. He didn’t feel quite that confident. ‘How did it happen?’

Agesandros indicated Galba. ‘That slave fell deliberately and injured his leg. He was trying to get off work. It’s an old trick, and I saw through it at once. I laid a few blows into the dog to teach him a lesson, and the gugga told me to stop, that it had been a genuine accident.’ He snorted. ‘Such defiance cannot be tolerated. He needed to be taught the error of his ways on the spot.’

Quintus looked down at Hanno. ‘I think you succeeded,’ he said sarcastically. ‘He’s halfway to Hades.’

One corner of Agesandros’ mouth tugged upwards.

The only one to see it was Hanno. Agesandros wants me dead. Why?

It was the last coherent thought he had.

Quintus’ confidence was bolstered by his success over Agesandros. Rather than let the injured Hanno be carried back to the villa like a sack of grain as the Sicilian wanted, he insisted that a litter be fetched. Galba could limp alongside. Scowling, Agesandros could do little but obey his command, sending a slave off at the run. The overseer watched with a surly expression as, using a strip of cloth, Aurelia cleaned the worst of the blood from Hanno’s face. Tears poured down her cheeks, but she did not make a sound. She would not give Agesandros the satisfaction.

A short time later, when Hanno had been carefully transferred into the litter, she finally stood. A mixture of blood and dust covered the lower half of her dress, from where she had knelt in the dirt. Though reddened, her eyes were full of anger, and her face was set. ‘If he dies, I will see that Father makes you pay,’ she said. ‘I swear it.’

Agesandros tried to laugh it off. ‘It takes more than that to kill a gugga,’ he declared.

Aurelia glared at him, afraid and yet unafraid.

‘Come,’ said Quintus, gently leading her away. Agesandros made to follow, but Quintus had had enough. ‘Go about your business,’ he barked. ‘We will care for the two slaves.’

They installed Hanno on blankets and a straw mattress in an empty stable off the farmyard, where he lay as still as a corpse. Quintus was concerned by his pale face. If the Carthaginian died, his father would be severely out of pocket, so he ordered hot water to be fetched from the kitchen, along with strips of linen and a flask of acetum, or vinegar. When they arrived, he was surprised by Aurelia’s reaction. She would suffer no other to clean the Carthaginian’s wounds. Meanwhile Elira treated Galba, with Quintus watching appreciatively. The Illyrian’s medical knowledge was good, courtesy of her upbringing. As she’d told Quintus, her mother had been the woman to whom everyone in the tribe came with their ailments. First she washed the wound with plenty of hot water. Then, ignoring Galba’s hisses of discomfort, she sluiced the area with acetum before patting it dry and applying a dressing. ‘Two days’ rest, and light duties for a week,’ Quintus said when she was done. ‘I’ll make sure Agesandros knows.’

Muttering his gratitude, the Gaul shuffled off.

There was a moan from behind him, and Quintus turned. Hanno’s face twisted briefly at whatever Aurelia was doing, before relaxing again. ‘He’s alive,’ he said with relief.

‘No thanks to Agesandros,’ Aurelia shot back vehemently. ‘Imagine if we hadn’t come along! He might still die.’ Her voice tailed off as she bit back a sob.