Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

Does that mean you should leave him to die? his conscience shot back. What chance has he against three grown men?

Hanno screeched to a halt. Turning, he ran uphill as fast as his legs could take him. He took care to count his steps. At eighty, he slowed to a trot. Peering through the trees, he saw the three bandits standing over a motionless figure. Claws of fear savaged Hanno’s guts as he took refuge behind a bush. No! He can’t be dead! When Pollio’s kick made Quintus moan, Hanno was nearly sick with relief. Quintus was alive still. Clearly, he wouldn’t be for long. Hanno clenched his empty fists. What in the name of Baal Saphon can I do?

‘Let’s take him back to the hut,’ Pollio declared.

‘Why?’ complained Balbus. ‘We can just kill the fucker here.’

‘That’s where the fire is, stupid! It won’t have gone out yet,’ replied Pollio with a laugh. ‘I know you’re injured, but Sejanus and I can carry him between us.’

A cruel smile spread across Balbus’ face. ‘Fair enough. There’ll be more sport with some heat, I suppose.’ He watched each of his comrades take one of Quintus’ arms and begin dragging him towards the hut. There was little resistance, but they retained their weapons nonetheless.

This is my chance. All three men had their backs to him, and half a dozen steps separated Balbus from the others. Hanno’s mouth felt very dry. His prospects of success were tiny. Like as not, he’d end up dead, or being tortured alongside Quintus. He could still run. A wave of self-loathing swept over him. He saved you from Agesandros, remember?

Clenching his teeth, Hanno emerged from his hiding place. Grateful for the damp vegetation, which muffled the sound of his feet, he stole forward as fast as he could. Balbus was limping after his comrades, who were alternately grumbling about how much Quintus weighed and waxing lyrical about what they’d do to him. Hanno fixed his gaze on the rusty sword that dangled from Balbus’ right hand. First, he had to arm himself. After that, he had to kill one of the bandits. After that

… Hanno didn’t know. He’d have to trust in the gods.

To Hanno’s relief, his first target didn’t hear him coming. Taking careful aim, he thumped Balbus near the point where Quintus’ arrow had entered his flesh, before neatly catching the sword as it dropped from the screaming bandit’s fingers. Switching it to his right hand, Hanno sprinted for the other two. ‘Hey!’ he shouted.

Their faces twisted with alarm, but Hanno’s delight turned to fear as they dropped Quintus like a sack of grain. Do not let him be hurt, Hanno prayed. Please.

‘You must be a slave,’ Pollio growled. ‘You were unarmed before. Why don’t you join us?’

‘We’ll let you kill your master,’ offered Sejanus. ‘Any way you want.’

Hanno did not dignify the proposal with a reply. Sejanus was nearest, so he went for him first. The big man might have been injured, but he was still deadly with his club. Hanno ducked under one almighty swing, and dodged out of the way of another before seeing Pollio’s spear come thrusting in at him. Desperate, Hanno retreated a few paces. Sejanus lumbered in immediate pursuit, blocking his comrade’s view of Hanno. There was a loud curse from Pollio, and Sejanus’ attention lapsed a fraction.

Hanno darted forward. As the other’s eyes widened in disbelief, Hanno slid his sword deep into his belly. The blade made a horrible, sucking sound as it came out. Blood spurted on to the ground. Sejanus roared with agony; his club fell from his nerveless fingers and both his hands came up to clutch at his abdomen.

Hanno was already spinning to meet Pollio’s attack. The little bandit’s spear stabbed in, narrowly missing his right arm. His heart pounding, Hanno shuffled backwards. His eyes flickered to the side. Despite being in obvious pain, Balbus was about to join the fray. He’d picked up a thick branch. It wouldn’t kill, thought Hanno, but if Balbus landed a blow, he’d easily knock him from his feet. Panic bubbled in his throat, and his sword arm began to tremble.

Get a grip of yourself! Quintus needs you.

Hanno’s breathing steadied. He fixed Balbus with a hard stare. ‘Want a blade in the guts as well as that arrow?’

Balbus flinched, and Hanno went for the kill. ‘Creating fear in an enemy’s heart wins half the battle,’ his father had been fond of saying. ‘Carthage!’ he bellowed, and charged forward. Even if Pollio took him down from behind, Hanno was determined that Balbus would die.

Balbus saw the suicidal look in Hanno’s eyes. He dropped his length of wood and raised both his hands in the air. ‘Don’t kill me,’ he begged.

Hanno didn’t trust the bandit as far as he could throw him; he didn’t know what Pollio was doing either. Dropping his right shoulder, he crashed into Balbus’ chest, sending him flying.