Hannibal 02: Fields of Blood

by Ben Kane

  ‘You’re becoming quite the young woman.’ Again the fleeting appraisal. ‘You’ll be fifteen before long, won’t you?’

  ‘In the autumn, yes.’ She fought the instant blush that warmed her cheeks, and failed. ‘You bring no bad news, I hope?’

  ‘None, I am happy to say.’ He turned to Atia. ‘Have you had any word of Fabricius, or Quintus?’

  ‘No. Nothing regarding Flaccus either. I spend enough time on my knees in the lararium to mean that no news is good news.’ Atia’s tone was brittle, and brooked no argument.

  ‘Your husband and Quintus are ever in my prayers, and in those of my father,’ said Gaius quickly. ‘So too is Flaccus. The day that they all return will be one of great celebration.’

  ‘It will,’ declared Atia.

  An awkward silence fell.

  Aurelia felt guilty that she hadn’t been praying for Flaccus as much as her father and brother. I only met him once, she thought defensively.

  ‘You’ll stay for the night?’ asked Atia.

  ‘That’s very kind of you, but—’ demurred Gaius.

  ‘You have to,’ cried Aurelia. She clasped his hand in hers. ‘We haven’t seen you for weeks. You must tell us what you and your father have been up to, and what’s happening in Capua.’ She stuck out her bottom lip. ‘We get no news here, in the middle of nowhere.’

  At least Fabricius’ creditors leave us alone in this weather, thought Atia sourly. Come the spring, it will be a different matter. ‘Stay. Otherwise you’ll have to set out on your return journey within the hour. The low clouds and the snow mean it gets dark so early these days.’

  ‘How can I refuse?’ declared Gaius with a gracious half-bow. ‘I would be delighted to stay. Thank you.’

  Aurelia clapped her hands with happiness.

  ‘Entertain our guest, Aurelia. The tablinum is the warmest room.’ Atia made for the house. ‘I shall speak to Julius about the dinner for tonight.’

  ‘Shall we?’ Gaius indicated the path back to the front door.

  ‘Can’t we walk for a little while? It’s dark so much at this time of year. It’s good just to be outside, to breathe the fresh air.’

  ‘Whatever you wish,’ Gaius acceded. ‘Where do you want to go?’

  Delighted by the idea of his company, Aurelia pointed. ‘The only path away from the house that isn’t covered in snow is the one that leads up to the woods.’

  ‘Let’s go that way then.’

  The hours that followed were Aurelia’s happiest in many weeks. Her walk with Gaius had lasted until the light had dimmed in the western sky. With chilled faces and feet, they had stamped back into the house. Ignoring the empty tablinum, they had retired to the warmth of the kitchen, where they had got under the slaves’ feet and stolen tasty morsels of the food that was being prepared. Julius, the main cook, would normally have driven her out of his domain. Instead, he had offered her a bowl of the best olives and muttered something about how good it was to see her mood lift. When Atia came in to check on the meal’s progress, she too had looked pleased. Aurelia had pretended not to notice.

  Gaius had been full of small talk from Capua. Isolated on the farm, and locked in by grief, Aurelia took interest in stories that would have been of little appeal before. Her favourite was about one of the sewers in Capua, which had blocked a week before. Gaius went into great detail about the resulting overflow, which had swamped part of the city, filling homes and businesses with liquid ordure. A vicious frost two nights afterwards – usually a most unwelcome event – had proved to be the salvation of those trying to remove the vast quantities of sewage. ‘You have to see it to believe it,’ Gaius had said with a chuckle. ‘When shit and piss freeze solid, the result can be chopped up with spades into manageable chunks, tossed on to a cart and carried away.’

  ‘You’re making it up!’ Aurelia had said in delighted horror.

  ‘I’m not! On my honour. There was so much work that carters were coming in from every village for miles.’

  She had given him a wicked nudge. ‘Mother would love that story.’ Despite Gaius’ protests, she had persuaded him to tell the tale again – but before they dined.

  Despite herself, Atia had laughed her way through his account. ‘That must have been quite a sight,’ she said when he’d finished. ‘I imagine that the smell must have been far less severe than in summer.’

  Gaius had grimaced. ‘It was still bad enough – the affected area was only a few streets away from our house. Father had the slaves burning lavender and incense night and day to combat the odour.’

  ‘None of your household got sick then?’

  ‘No, thank the gods. Surprisingly few people in the city did; whether it was because of the cold or the amount of offerings they left at the temples, I don’t know.’

  ‘How is your father?’

  ‘He is well, thank you. He sends you his best wishes. I am to tell you that if there is anything he can do, you have only to mention it.’

  ‘My thanks. He is a good man, Martialis. I will remember his kind offer.’ Atia’s smile was warm, but the gesture had made her worries resurface. Fabricius had always refused to countenance asking his oldest friend for help with his debts. Martialis wasn’t wealthy, but his loyalty knew no bounds. Anything he had, he’d lend to them if they asked. Atia hoped never to be forced into such a situation, but if Fabricius didn’t return, the possibility was there – whether she liked it or not. She resolved to make an offering to Mercury, the god of war, and also of messengers. Bring me good news of my husband, please. She gestured to the nearest slave, who made swiftly for the kitchen. Soon a procession of dishes was carried through to the dining room, where the three were reclining on couches. The conversation died away for a time. Gaius fell on the food as if he’d been starved for a week. Atia looked on in approval as she took small portions from various platters. Despite her rumbling stomach, Aurelia nibbled only at a piece of baked fish. She didn’t want to appear greedy in front of Gaius.

  ‘How is Martialis’ bad leg?’ asked Atia. ‘This weather can’t be good for it.’

  ‘A good rub-down by his body slave once a day keeps him moving. That, and the produce of Bacchus.’ Gaius’ wink set Aurelia giggling. Martialis had always been fond of his drink. Since trying it on the sly, she’d developed a taste for it herself. Atia’s firm grasp of the jug was the only thing that had stopped her from trying to fill her own cup. Throwing a resentful look at her mother, Aurelia hung on Gaius’ every word. How had she not noticed before? He was intriguing – funny and clever. As a friend of Quintus, she had never really thought of him in a romantic way, but that had just changed. She studied him sidelong, drinking in his broad shoulders, muscular physique and open, pleasant face. He caught her eye on occasion, and smiled.

  His next story concerned a Capuan official who had been discovered stealing money from the city’s coffers. He had only been caught because of his taste in expensive mosaics. The alarm had been raised by a colleague who had seen the new flooring in his home and known that it would have cost more than the man’s yearly income. An investigation revealed that all of the embezzled money had been spent. The enraged Capuan leaders had ordered the floors to be taken up. The resultant debris was to be used as filler when local roads were being repaired. The zealous workmen sent to complete the job had mistakenly dug up every room in the house, causing the hysterical official to collapse at the scene.

  Aurelia gasped. ‘Did he die?’

  ‘No, he recovered well enough to appear at his trial the next day. Ironically, half the crowd had stolen pieces of his own tesserae to pelt him with. They were showering in from all sides as the court convened. The lawyers got hit; so too did the magistrate.’ Gaius mimed ducking down, wincing as he was struck. ‘The city guards had to be sent in to restore order.’

  Aurelia snorted with laughter. ‘You’re so funny, Gaius.’

  Atia raised a hand to stifle a yawn. ‘Excuse me.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been carrying
on all night, boring you stupid,’ said Gaius, looking a little embarrassed.

  ‘No, no. It’s interesting to hear what’s going on in Capua. I think it’s time for bed, though. It has been a long day.’ Atia cast a meaningful glance at Aurelia. ‘You too, young lady.’

  ‘But, Mother—’ she began.

  ‘Bed. Now.’

  Aurelia flushed with anger, but before she could protest, Gaius had risen from his couch. ‘The ride from Capua has tired me more than I would have thought. A night’s sleep, and I’ll be as good as new.’

  Atia smiled. ‘One of the slaves will show you to your room. There are extra blankets in the chest at the foot of the bed should you need them.’

  ‘My thanks. Until the morning, then.’ Gaius bid them both good night.

  Aurelia rose. ‘I’m not a child, Mother,’ she whispered the instant he was at the door. ‘I don’t need to be told when to go to bed.’

  Atia turned on her in a fury. ‘When you are mistress of Flaccus’ household, you can do as you please. While you’re under this roof, however, you’ll do exactly as I say!’

  Gaius checked at Atia’s raised voice. He half turned, but then thought better of it, and left the room. Aurelia’s cheeks burned with embarrassment and shame that he had heard her mother’s words. She sensed her mother get up, felt a hand close on her arm.

  ‘Do you understand me?’ Atia demanded.

  ‘Yes, Mother,’ she muttered from between clenched teeth.

  ‘I want no more casting soulful eyes at Gaius either. He’s a good man, and will make someone a fine husband, but you are betrothed to another. There must be no suggestion of impropriety. Caius Minucius Flaccus would not approve.’ And the alliance with his family cannot be jeopardised. It will be vital in the restoration of our fortunes.

  ‘I don’t care about him,’ spat Aurelia, forgetting that she had found Flaccus quite attractive. ‘Or you! I want to marry whom I choose, like you and Father did.’

  Slap! Atia’s hand connected with her left cheek.

  Complete shock filled Aurelia. Tears of humiliation welled in her eyes. It had been years since her mother had struck her.

  ‘You forget yourself!’ Atia hissed. ‘What your father and I did is none of your concern. None! You will marry whomever we decide upon, whenever we tell you to. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘It’s not fair! You and Father are hypocrites.’

  Slap! ‘Keep this insolence up, and I will have a whip brought to me.’

  Aurelia’s guts knotted with fear. Her mother’s threat was real. She bit her lip and stared at the floor.

  ‘Look at me!’

  Aurelia raised her unwilling eyes to Atia’s.

  ‘So you will do as I say?’

  ‘Yes, Mother,’ Aurelia said, hating herself for being weak.

  ‘Good. On that we are agreed at least.’ Atia waved a hand in dismissal. ‘Go to bed. I will see you in the morning.’

  Aurelia left the room, ignoring the curious stares of the less discreet slaves. Damn Mother to Hades, she thought. It was no more than ten steps to her bedchamber, but in the only act of defiance left to her, she made them last an age. She flung a murderous glance back at the dining room. I hate her. I hate her. Her mother had read far too much into the situation, she thought angrily. She had been enjoying Gaius’ company, that was all. Deep in her heart, though, Aurelia knew that Atia’s instinct had been correct. A stab of remorse. How could she find a man attractive when she was promised to another? Instinctively she knew why. I have met Flaccus once, whereas I’ve known Gaius for many years. Gaius is young, not old. Kind, not arrogant. It’s not a crime to have feelings for someone. An unexpected image of Hanno popped into Aurelia’s mind, filling her with even more guilt. She blanked him out at once. They had never even shared a kiss. He had left, his aim to join Hannibal’s army, and she would never see him again. For all she knew, he was dead.

  ‘Into your room!’ Atia had come out to check on her.

  Aurelia’s resentment towards her mother resurged with a vengeance, but she kept quiet as she opened her door and slipped inside. A plan was hatching in her mind. Everyone in the house would go to bed soon. If she waited, she could creep to Gaius’ chamber and let herself in. Intense satisfaction swept through her. How angry her mother would be if she ever found out! Not that she would. I’ll be quieter than a mouse, she thought with glee. And then I can be alone with Gaius.

  Perhaps an hour later, all sounds outside her door had ceased. There had been soft talking among the slaves who were clearing up the remains of their dinner. Plates clattering off one another. From the kitchen, the sound of Julius chiding his minions, telling them to be quiet. Atia’s voice, thanking Julius for his efforts. Her feet pausing by Aurelia’s door; a faint creak as she opened it and peered inside. Aurelia hadn’t moved a muscle, had kept her breathing deep and regular, and her eyes closed. Her efforts had seemed to work. Atia had gently shut the door and gone on her way. The last noises Aurelia had heard were a dog barking from the outbuildings and the subsequent yelps as one of the farm slaves kicked it into silence. She had lain in the darkness since, her blankets pulled up to her chin, listening hard.

  All she could hear was her own heart, which was thumping hard off her ribs. Aurelia realised that her previous behaviour had been nothing more than bravado. Sadly, it had worn off. Was going to see Gaius worth the risk? If her mother were ever to realise, a whipping would surely follow. Aurelia had seen Atia punish a slave that way once when her father and Agesandros hadn’t been to hand. The slave had screamed throughout the entire procedure. Don’t be a coward, she thought. What she was about to do could not even compare to the dangers faced daily by Quintus.

  With renewed resolve, she threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. Lighting her oil lamp was too risky. Besides, she knew the layout of her room like the back of her hand. Shrugging a blanket over her shoulders to guard against the chill, she tiptoed to the door and placed her ear against the timbers. Not a sound. Aurelia had long since perfected the knack of lifting the latch without making any noise. Pulling the horizontal bar towards her, she raised it while with her other hand she firmly pulled the door ajar. A glance outside. Nothing moved. No one stirred.

  Aurelia slipped into the covered passageway that bordered the courtyard. Everything had been turned a beautiful shade of silver by the moon. The cold was piercing, and she clutched the blanket to her. Her exhaled breath formed instant clouds before her face, so she was careful to remain in the shadows as she scanned the square for any sign of life. The only creature in sight was the cat that hung around the kitchen, and it ignored her. Content, Aurelia slid her feet across the mosaic floor, counting each step. To reach Gaius’ chamber, she had to go past her parents’ room, which lay fifteen paces from hers. By the time she’d reached ten, she could feel sweat running down her back. Eleven. Twelve. Somnus, she prayed to the god of sleep, keep my mother firmly in your grasp, I beg you.

  Aurelia was right outside Atia’s door when there was a cough from within. It took all of her self-control not to turn and bolt. She froze. Time stood still as she waited to be discovered. Blood rushed in her ears. She saw her mother before her in a towering fury, a whip in her right hand. She blinked. The horrific image disappeared. Aurelia forced herself to breathe slowly. By the count of twenty, there had been no further sounds. Knees weak from trembling, she crept on. Outside Gaius’ room, she paused. There was still time to return to her bed unnoticed. That notion vanished in a heartbeat. After the fear, she wanted some reward. She shocked herself by visualising a lingering kiss with Gaius. That picture bright in her mind, she lifted the latch with a practised hand and padded inside, closing the door behind her.

  The momentousness of her actions hit home like a hammer blow. If she were caught, her mother would be incandescent. The very least she could expect was a whipping. Aurelia’s resolve weakened. Her arm reached back to the latch.

  ‘Who’s there?’ It was Gaius’ voice.


  Her courage returned. ‘It is I, Aurelia.’ She rushed to his bedside.

  ‘Aurelia?’ He sounded confused. ‘Is something wrong? A fire?’

  ‘Don’t be alarmed. Nothing’s wrong. I wanted to talk to you.’

  ‘I see.’ He sat up. It was so dark that she could see only the outline of his face. ‘Your mother would kill us both if she found us like this.’

  ‘She won’t. She’s asleep.’

  ‘I hope so. What was it that couldn’t wait until the morning?’

  Aurelia’s self-confidence vanished. She was here as much to defy her mother as she was to see Gaius. Admitting to either would involve losing face, though. ‘I’m so worried about Quintus and Father,’ she whispered in a rush. ‘I pray to the gods all the time, but I never hear anything back.’

  He reached out and touched her cheek. ‘It’s bad enough for me not knowing about Quintus. It must be far worse for you.’

  Unexpected tears began to flow. In the weeks since hearing about the disaster at the Trebia, Aurelia had buried her fears deep inside. Because of the arguments with her mother, she had no one to turn to. So she had battled on alone. One human touch, and her defences came tumbling down. ‘Oh, Gaius! W-what will I do if they’re both dead?’ she whispered jerkily.

  He moved along the bed so that he could put his arms around her. ‘You poor thing.’

  Aurelia began to sob.

  ‘Shhhh,’ murmured Gaius, rubbing her back. ‘Shhhh. Your mother will wake.’

  She gulped and managed to rein her emotions in a little. Burying her face in his shoulder, she clutched him as if she were drowning. Gaius didn’t speak. He just held her tightly. Aurelia began to cry in earnest. She cried, silently, for a long time. For Quintus, for her father, for Suni, but most of all, for herself. Never in her whole life had she felt so alone as she had in the previous few months. It was as if Gaius understood that. His grip on her strengthened. It gave Aurelia the most incredible sense of reassurance. She relaxed into his embrace and let herself take comfort from his presence, his acceptance, his lack of questions. Here, she was safe. No one could hurt her. Her fears gradually abated, and a little while after that, her tears dried up.