Hannibal 02: Fields of Blood

by Ben Kane

  ‘Most of them have been driven on to the shore,’ announced a voice by his elbow.

  Quintus glanced around, surprised to see Corax. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said with a sigh. ‘They’re being hounded by Gauls and Numidians alike.’

  ‘Poor bastards,’ said Rutilus.

  ‘Their lines were broken long ago; the units will all be mixed up with one another. Most of their officers are probably dead or injured. They’re surrounded, confused, panicked.’ Corax scowled. ‘Fuck it all. There’s nowhere for them to go but into the lake.’

  Quintus peered down at the battlefield again. Was it his imagination, or was there a strange tinge to the shallows near the fighting? He blinked in horror. No, the water was turning red. His overwhelming thirst vanished for a moment. Even if he’d been able to drink his fill from the lake at that very instant, he wouldn’t have. ‘What will happen to them, sir?’

  ‘To the ones down there? They’re dead meat. Nothing we can do about it either. Going back down there would get every one of us killed, double quick.’

  Quintus and Rutilus exchanged a sober but relieved look. If a man such as Corax said it was all right not to play the hero, then who were they to argue? Quintus prayed that his father was safe – that the cavalry hadn’t had time to pass through the pinch point before the ambush began. And at least Calatinus wasn’t present.

  ‘What we’ve got to concentrate on is not letting the same thing happen to us. My guess is that the guggas will be after us as soon as they can get organised.’

  ‘Ready to leave when you are, sir.’ Rutilus stuck out his chin.

  An approving look. Corax eyed Quintus’ scutum. ‘How do you like the feel of that?’

  ‘It’s heavy, sir, but I can manage it.’ Another silent prayer, this time one of thanks that his arm had fully recovered.

  ‘And you?’ The centurion looked at Rutilus.

  ‘Same, sir.’

  ‘Picked them up from lads who’d gone down, eh?’

  Quintus nodded.

  ‘Did you have to use them?’

  ‘No, sir. We were at the back,’ Quintus replied, expecting Corax to tell them off twice over.

  ‘It was good thinking to arm yourselves with them. Those little round things you velites carry aren’t worth the steam off my piss when you’ve got to slug it out with other infantry. Hang on to them for the moment.’

  Quintus and Rutilus grinned in surprise. ‘Yes, sir!’

  ‘You and your mates did well earlier too,’ said Corax in a tone of gruff approval. ‘It’s no easy thing to keep running up a slope with those bastard slingers raining death down on you. Keep that type of behaviour up, and you’ll both make hastatus sooner rather than later.’

  ‘Thank you, sir!’

  ‘Make the most of this break. We’re leaving soon. We need to get as far from here as possible by sunset.’

  ‘Will we make it, sir?’ Quintus asked.

  ‘If the gods wish it, yes.’ With a tight nod, Corax moved off.

  Quintus’ pride had been stirred by the centurion’s praise, but his final words had turned it to ash in his dry mouth. He could see the same emotion writ large on Rutilus’ face. He lifted his gaze to the heavens, searching for inspiration. Surely the gods wouldn’t let them survive the hell they’d just been through only to see them slain by other Carthaginian troops? After a moment, he looked down, angered by the absence of a sign.

  ‘The damn gods never answer. Never,’ whispered Rutilus. ‘Even when you need them most.’

  ‘I know.’ Quintus felt bone-weary. ‘We’ll just have to soldier on.’

  Chapter VIII

  Capua

  ‘AURELIA.’

  She clamped the pillow tighter against her head. Go away, she thought miserably. Mother has only sent you because she knows I won’t talk to her.

  ‘I know you’re in there,’ said Gaius.

  Despite the pillow, Aurelia could hear every word he said.

  ‘Open the door. Please, Aurelia.’

  With a sigh, she lifted her hand away from her head. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘To talk.’

  ‘Mother sent you,’ she accused.

  ‘She did ask, yes, but I wanted to talk to you too. I’m worried about you.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’ He knocked again. ‘I won’t go away until you let me in.’

  She lay on her bed for a moment longer, before she got up and lifted the latch. Perhaps he could lift her mood.

  ‘You’ve been crying,’ he said, entering.

  She wiped her reddened eyes. ‘What do you expect? Hannibal has defeated our armies yet again. Thousands of our soldiers have been killed. If Flaminius was killed, it stands to reason that Father and Quintus could have been slain too. And I’m – I’m supposed to be getting married?’ Her tears began again in earnest.

  ‘Come here.’ He took her in his arms, which is what she’d wanted him to do since the night at her house. But not in these dreadful circumstances. Aurelia didn’t fight him, though – she needed all the comfort she could get.

  Three days before, a letter from her father granting his permission for her to wed Lucius had arrived. Aurelia had expected that. What she could never have envisaged was reading that Quintus had recently disappeared en route from Flaminius’ camp to Capua. Fabricius’ assertion that every effort was being made to find him had done little to ease her or her mother’s distress. It was too easy to assume that Quintus was dead, killed in a fall from his horse, by bandits or by an enemy patrol. Two days later – the previous morning – their lives had been turned upside down a second time when the shocking details of the battle at Lake Trasimene had reached Capua. Atia’s face had gone grey when she’d heard; she’d spent much of the time since on her knees at the temple to Mars. Gaius had been training on the Campanian plain, unaware, but the normally ebullient Martialis had been reduced to a brooding silence. Aurelia had been devastated. Deep in her gut, she knew that her father was among the thousands of dead. He had given his blessing to her betrothal, and then he had been killed in battle. It was as if the very gods were laughing at her.

  ‘The news from Trasimene was dreadful,’ Gaius began, which made her sob even harder, ‘but from what I’ve heard, most of our casualties were taken by the legionaries. Flaminius didn’t send any cavalry ahead of the vanguard, so they hadn’t passed through the narrows by the lake. From the moment that the fighting began, the press was so great that they couldn’t join in. When the tide turned, they were able to ride away without any difficulty.’

  She pulled away, incredulous. ‘When did you hear this?’

  ‘Only this afternoon. I spoke with a second rider, who’d arrived from Rome. The Senate sent him with advice for the city’s leaders.’

  She needed him to say the words. ‘So you’re saying that Father might be alive?’

  He kissed her on the forehead. ‘He’s probably planning your wedding as we speak.’

  ‘The gods be thanked.’ How could I have doubted them? She managed a wan smile. ‘Have you told Mother?’

  ‘Yes. She said that I should be the one to tell you.’

  Then Aurelia thought of Quintus, and her misery resurged. ‘What about my brother?’ she whispered.

  ‘Just because he disappeared doesn’t mean he’s dead.’

  ‘Why would he not come home, though?’

  ‘I don’t know, Aurelia, but he must have had a good reason. Quintus is no coward, you know that. He wouldn’t do something like this on a whim.’

  ‘I know. But what could his reasons have been? A girl?’

  ‘They’d been marching for weeks. He wouldn’t have had the time to get to know any.’

  They gazed at each other, thinking the same thing.

  In an effort to distract herself from how close Gaius was, Aurelia voiced the thought first. ‘Could it have been to do with Hanno?’

  ‘I don’t see how it could have been. How would he ever make contact with Quintus? T
hey’re in opposing armies.’

  ‘And even if he did, what would make Quintus run away?’ She shook her head in frustration. ‘It doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘But thinking about it logically has cheered you up a little.’ He gave her an affectionate squeeze. ‘Quintus will reappear sometime, never you fear.’

  ‘Thank you, Gaius.’ Aurelia smiled ruefully, feeling better than she had for many hours. Why can’t Lucius be more like you? she thought, looking up at him in admiration. Her head moved a fraction towards his. He didn’t move away, and her breath caught in her chest. She dropped her gaze until all she could see was his nose and lips. A fingersbreadth closer. Still he didn’t pull back. His breath was warm on her face. Gods, but she had never wanted to kiss someone so much. Their lips brushed, sending a jolt of energy through every part of her.

  ‘Who did you say was here?’ Carrying in from the courtyard, Atia’s voice was loud with displeasure.

  The slave’s reply was pitched too low to be discernible, but by then the magic had vanished. They moved apart awkwardly, not looking at each other.

  ‘Show him in. He’ll only wait outside if I don’t see him,’ Atia ordered.

  Gaius frowned. ‘Who could that be?’

  ‘Phanes,’ spat Aurelia.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘He’s a moneylender.’

  ‘What would someone like that want with your mother?’

  Gaius would find out sooner or later, she thought. Besides, what did it matter if he knew? Quickly, she filled him in on what her mother had told her.

  ‘Why didn’t your father ask mine for help? Or your mother?’

  ‘Could you, in a similar situation?’ she challenged.

  ‘It’s not easy to ask a friend for a loan, I suppose,’ he admitted.

  ‘I want to hear what he has to say.’

  ‘I don’t suppose that Atia will be too appreciative of that idea.’

  ‘What she doesn’t know won’t harm her,’ replied Aurelia as she padded to the door and peered outside. Her mother was facing the tablinum door, waiting for her unwanted visitor. Aurelia watched for a few moments. Phanes eventually appeared, accompanied by Martialis’ major domo. Atia greeted him in a cold voice; she made no move to welcome him further into the house, forcing the Greek to stand in the doorway. Aurelia wanted to stamp her foot. Her bedroom was too far away to be able to hear a word. She slipped out, ignoring Gaius’ hiss of dismay.

  The courtyard had been designed in typical fashion, with statues and plants – vines, olive, lemon and fig trees – throughout. Using these as cover, Aurelia darted forward until she was close enough to eavesdrop. A glance behind her revealed that Gaius had accompanied her. She crouched down behind a large statue of Jupiter Grabovius, an Oscan version of the god revered by Romans, one whom Martialis also worshipped. Gaius crowded in behind her; she relished the feel of his chest against her back.

  ‘I sent a message informing you of the new arrangements. The first payment will be with you next month,’ Atia muttered.

  ‘When first we talked, you promised that I would have the money within a month. To try to change our agreement without consulting me about it is unacceptable,’ said Phanes sharply.

  A pause. ‘It has been more difficult than I thought to raise the funds.’

  ‘As well it might. We live in times of war. What assurance have I, however, that you will meet this new deadline? I would be entirely within my rights to bring proceedings against you at once.’

  ‘Gods above, what more proof do you need than my word?’

  Aurelia could hear the strain in her mother’s voice. Anger coursed through her, but she too was helpless. Martialis, who might have come to their aid, had gone on his daily outing to the baths and wouldn’t be back for hours.

  ‘Do you want my jewellery, is that it?’ Atia’s bracelets clinked off one another as she began stripping them from her wrists.

  ‘Keep your trinkets. They are of little consequence against a debt of this size,’ retorted Phanes, his tone thick with contempt. ‘I will agree to the later date on the condition that the interest rate is increased to six drachms in every hundred. Calculated weekly.’

  ‘That’s daylight robbery!’ cried Atia.

  Aurelia felt Gaius tense with fury. Her own blood was boiling now. She peeked around Jupiter’s foot. Phanes had still not replied. He was just looking at her mother, a little smile playing across his thin lips. ‘Call it what you will,’ he said at last. ‘That’s my offer. You can take it or not, as you wish. If you refuse, I will instruct my lawyer to petition the courts this afternoon.’

  A short silence.

  ‘You leave me no choice,’ said Atia, her shoulders sagging. ‘I agree to your terms.’

  The low-down prick, thought Aurelia. Her anger was so all-consuming that she didn’t realise she’d leaned too far forward until it was too late. The next thing she knew, she was sprawling forward and landing flat on her face. She looked up to find her mother regarding her with horror. Phanes was smirking.

  ‘Have you been eavesdropping?’ demanded Atia.

  ‘Clearly,’ said Phanes. ‘And not very well either.’

  ‘I-I’m sorry, Mother,’ stuttered Aurelia, getting to her feet.

  ‘You will pay for this! Go to your room!’

  Before Aurelia could move, Gaius had stepped out from behind Jupiter. ‘My pardon, Atia, it is I you should blame.’

  Atia’s lips thinned, while Phanes’ expression verged on delight. ‘Explain yourself,’ hissed Atia.

  ‘We heard voices. Aurelia recognised that of the moneylender.’ He loaded the word with disdain. ‘She’d told me of your . . . difficulties . . . and wanted to listen. She was scared to, but I encouraged her. It was wrong, and I apologise.’ He stuck out his chin a little.

  ‘I see.’ Atia’s gaze shot from Gaius to Aurelia and back again. Both were careful not to look away. She scowled, momentarily defeated. ‘Your father will hear of this shocking behaviour. I do not expect to be eavesdropped upon whilst I am dealing with my family’s private business matters.’

  Gaius bowed his head in acceptance. ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Leave us, both of you,’ ordered Atia.

  Aurelia began to breathe again. She turned to go, but Phanes’ voice coiled around her as a whip might. ‘Touching how close the two of them are, is it not?’ he asked.

  ‘What is it to do with you?’ Atia’s tone was glacial.

  ‘Nothing, nothing at all. I merely wonder if Melito is aware of their . . . intimacy?’

  ‘You go too far, you piece of filth!’ shouted Atia. A slave on the far side of the courtyard, who was watering the plants, looked up in surprise. She lowered her voice. ‘How dare you impugn my daughter’s honour?’

  ‘I would never do such a thing,’ protested Phanes, but his eyes told a different story.

  ‘Get out, before I have the slaves throw you on to the street!’ Atia pointed towards the atrium.

  ‘I am at your command.’ Phanes made as if to go, but then turned back. ‘I wonder how well Melito will take it when he hears how his betrothed cavorted with a family friend before my very eyes. The first time I saw them together, I told myself I had to be imagining it, but there is no denying their fascination with each other now.’ He bowed. ‘I will expect the first payment by the date agreed.’

  Atia let him go.

  Aurelia was stunned that her mother could react in this way. When Phanes told him, Lucius would break off their betrothal, she was sure of it. Gaius’ expression said the same thing. Whether Lucius believed Phanes or not, it wouldn’t matter. Jealousy was a terrible beast, her mother said. Once its claws sank into someone’s flesh, they never came out. The Greek was nearly at the door now. He hadn’t looked back once.

  ‘Phanes,’ Atia called out.

  He turned.

  ‘What would it take for you not to speak with Melito?’

  A smirk. ‘And I thought you had nothing to hide?’

 
‘I don’t! How much?’

  Now, a broad grin. ‘The interest rate will be ten drachms in every hundred. It will also be calculated every week. Do you find that acceptable?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Atia. She sounded very tired.

  Phanes gave her a mocking bow. To Aurelia’s horror, he winked at her. And then he was gone.

  Atia’s gaze was baleful as it fell on Aurelia. ‘Why could you not have stayed in your room? You have ruined us, child.’

  Guilt-ridden, overwhelmed, Aurelia heard her mother’s voice as if through a long tunnel. Her knees gave way, and she crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.

  The Adriatic coast of Picenum

  Hanno shifted from foot to foot, excited, but also hot and sweaty in his full uniform. He eyed the glittering blue sea, which lay tantalisingly close. Off-duty soldiers were splashing about in the shallows, shrieking like happy children. The contrast to the last body of water he’d seen – Lake Trasimene, during the aftermath of the battle – could not have been more stark. Hanno’s men and the other Libyans had been too exhausted to pursue the Roman legionaries after they had broken through their lines. Leaving Mutt to take charge of the injured, he’d walked down to the lake, where the battle had been won.

  The first shock had been the immeasurably vast area of water that had been stained red. When Hanno had managed to drag his eyes from that horror, they had been drawn to the shoreline, which had been crowded with thousands of bloody, mutilated corpses. Velites and hastati, principes and triarii, centurions and other officers had sprawled ignominiously together, their ranks irrelevant in death. Gauls and Numidians had been roaming the scene in their hundreds, killing any living Romans and looting the dead. Headless corpses lay everywhere, the grisly handiwork of warriors who wanted the ultimate trophy. That hadn’t been the worst of it, though . . .