Hannibal 03 - Clouds of War

by Ben Kane

  It was a bitter medicine to swallow. Even Urceus would have to be kept in the dark, in case his temper got the better of him. Quintus didn’t want another death on his conscience. Impotent rage swelled within him now. Pera would emerge from this as the courageous officer who had risked his life for Rome, only to see his efforts come to nothing through events beyond his control. Quintus would be nothing more than the hastatus who had followed orders, and Marius the soldier who had died in the line of duty.

  When an old adage that Quintus’ father had been fond of came to mind, he was grateful. ‘If the time to strike an enemy isn’t right, stay your arm. Retreat if needs be. Keep your blade sharp. Keep it ready. One day, your opportunity will come.’

  ‘Ho, Hanno!’

  Hanno turned his eyes from the magnificent view of Ortygia and the Great Harbour. He was standing on the battlements of the Euryalus fort, and had been looking south. Kleitos was hailing him, so he walked to meet his friend, who was climbing the staircase from the courtyard below. ‘What’s brought you all the way over here?’

  ‘The wine, of course!’ Kleitos clapped him on the shoulder; Hanno did the same back.

  Kleitos’ unanticipated appearance in Syracuse a couple of weeks after his and Aurelia’s return – a consequence of Hippocrates wanting further news relayed to his brother – had been a joy to them both. Their duties kept them apart most days, but they had made up for that in the evenings, meeting up for regular drinking sessions. Kleitos rarely mentioned what had happened in Enna, but it was obvious that he appreciated Hanno’s company. With Kleitos still his only friend in Syracuse apart from Aurelia, Hanno felt the same.

  ‘You were taking the air and enjoying the vista, I assume?’ Kleitos gestured grandly over the rampart.

  ‘Yes. It’s not as spectacular as Akragas, but it’s worth a look.’

  ‘Aye. It was nicer there because there were no Romans in sight.’ Kleitos spat in the direction of the enemy fortifications, clearly visible beyond the marshy land that led from the walls to the River Anapos, which discharged into the Great Harbour.

  ‘That was part of it,’ admitted Hanno. His command when he’d first arrived in Syracuse had been on the seaward-facing defences. After the initial naval assault, it had been unusual to see the Romans at all, apart from an occasional trireme in the distance. It was a different matter here and at his new unit’s position, not far from the Hexapyla gate. Marcellus’ enclosing walls were a constant reminder that the siege continued. ‘But you didn’t come looking for me to go on the piss. It’s not late enough.’

  ‘You know me too well.’ Kleitos’ face grew more serious. ‘Is Aurelia about?’

  ‘She’s in the house. You know how it is,’ Hanno replied, registering the first traces of alarm. Since her encounter with Pox Face in Akragas, she had stayed indoors as much as possible during daylight hours. It was hard on her, but they both agreed it was better than another guard recognising her from her time in the palace. Remaining incognito was another reason that they were living here, far from the centre of Syracuse. Hanno hadn’t mentioned it to a soul, but he had also picked out Euryalus because of the network of tunnels that ran beneath it. Their main purpose was to allow defenders to appear from unexpected points and fall upon any attackers who made it within the strongly defended gates. But there was one – kept secret from all except senior officers – that ran under the walls for three stadia, emerging in a little defile. If the city ever fell, Hanno wanted a way out. Escape might be possible by sea, yet it was always best to have more than one plan. ‘I hope you haven’t come about her?’

  ‘No, no. There’s no reason to be concerned for Aurelia.’ He saw Hanno’s frown. ‘Nor about yourself.’

  ‘That’s good. You know that I’m as loyal as anyone, but with all the denunciations, well … How many men have been executed now?’

  ‘There was a real plot to turn the city over to the Romans, my friend. The spies killed a number of soldiers during their escape, and they were seen sailing off from the fishermen’s jetty close to Ortygia.’

  ‘I know.’ Hanno had heard the tale of the three Romans who had tricked and fought their way past the sentries and stolen a boat. Two of them had managed to get completely away, somehow avoiding the artillery barrage. Brave men, he thought. ‘So many of them confessed when they were arrested that Attalus must have been telling the truth. I’ve heard rumours, however, that some of the men who were seized were guilty of nothing more than being an enemy of his. I’ve had few dealings with him, but those that I’ve had have been unpleasant. He’s a little rat of a man. We’re fortunate that the conspirators didn’t include him in their plot. If they had, Attalus would have had no cause to feel left out, and I’d wager that he would have happily joined them. By now, the city would be in Roman hands.’

  ‘I won’t argue with you about that,’ said Kleitos. ‘But Attalus wouldn’t be stupid enough to accuse you. Hannibal sent you, for a start!’

  For the first time in an age, Hanno thought of Hostus, one of his father’s enemies in Carthage. ‘Believe it or not, some of my people would sell us out to the Romans.’

  ‘Maybe so, but you’re not one of them. In fact, your loyalty is why I’m here.’ He winked as Hanno’s interest grew clear. ‘A little bird told me that you’re to be ordered to the palace in the morning. Epicydes is sending an envoy to Philip of Macedon, and he wants to talk to you about it before the messenger leaves.’

  Surprise filled Hanno. Hannibal will want to hear about this, he thought. ‘Really?’

  ‘Maybe it’s because that prick Hippocrates isn’t here. He’s the more dominant brother, but Epicydes has a cooler head on his shoulders.’

  ‘He does,’ replied Hanno. Epicydes hadn’t mistreated him since his return, but nor had he asked anything of him but the most ordinary duties. ‘It’s excellent news that he’s asking Philip for help. Once Hannibal secures a port, the Macedonians could land in Italy – as well as my people, obviously.’

  ‘I hope to see that day. And if I have anything to do with it, Syracuse will also send Hannibal aid when the Romans have been beaten here.’

  ‘This calls for a drink,’ declared Hanno, delighted. ‘You’ll come back to the house?’

  ‘Only if you insist,’ replied Kleitos with a smile.

  ‘Aurelia will be glad to see you. She finds the confinement hard.’

  ‘Well, it won’t last forever. When Himilco arrives with his army, the balance will tip in our favour again.’

  ‘That’s what I tell her, but she worries about what may happen when Hippocrates returns,’ said Hanno, scowling. May the gods grant me the chance to kill him then.

  ‘We’ll keep her hidden until the Romans have been smashed, my friend, never fear. When your mission is complete, you can travel to Italy with her.’

  Hanno nodded and made as if he were pleased, which he was – mostly. It wasn’t ideal that Aurelia should become a camp follower once more, and follow him all over Italy, but it seemed the only way that they could avoid being parted.

  Spotting the enemy camps in the distance, he put his concerns aside. It was pointless to cross bridges before they were reached. Until the Romans outside the city were beaten, everything else was irrelevant. In the meantime, he and Aurelia were still together.

  Besides doing his duty, and sending messages to Hannibal, that was what mattered.

  Aurelia was tired of secreting herself away, tired of the lack of company. She had been quick to seek out Elira when she and Hanno had returned, but had been upset to find that the Illyrian no longer wished to see her often. Elira’s reason – which hadn’t altogether surprised Aurelia – was that she had met a soldier in the months that Aurelia had been away. It was understandable that she wanted to spend her time with him, but it meant that the rare, joyful occasions such as Kleitos’ visit the night before were all the more poignant. From the moment that Hanno left each morning, every passing hour felt like ten. I live in a prison, Aurelia thought bitterly, gazing
around the main living area. She had to admit that it was large, and well furnished – Hanno had seen to that – and there were two windows, so light was not an issue. She had Hannibal the cat for company – Aurelia had insisted on retrieving him from Elira, with whom he’d been left. Yet these things helped only a little. The three chambers: living room, bedroom, and a kitchen area with a small latrine off it, were in effect, a jail.

  In the past, Aurelia would hardly have noticed the everyday noises that carried in from the street below. Now, they felt like torture, because they represented a normal world, one that she could never be part of. Children shrieked with pleasure as they played; shopkeepers vied for the attention of passers-by, promising that their bread, their ironmongery, their wine was the best in Syracuse; men greeted soldiers whom they knew, and grilled them about the state of the defences and the disposition of the enemy. Women bemoaned the prices of food, their children’s behaviour, their husbands’ failure to listen to what was being said. Aurelia had taken to standing by the side of the windows, out of sight, and listening longingly to the carryings on. Hearing soldiers joking with each other made her think of Quintus, who might be only a few miles away, for all the good it did her. What Aurelia found hardest, however, was hearing a baby cry, or a very small child calling for its mother. Her barely healed grief for Publius would be scraped raw yet again, reducing her to a sobbing wreck. Why had she decided to travel to Rhegium? Why had she not stayed in Rome? The fact that Publius might have as easily been carried off by disease there as in Syracuse was of little solace. In a part of her mind, she lived in Rome with a happy, healthy son, and received occasional letters from her brother.

  She wished again that the war was over, that she and Hanno could settle down and live a normal life. They didn’t talk much about the struggle – what was the point? – but it was clear that he felt the coming campaign would deliver a decisive victory for Carthage and Syracuse. The size of Himilco’s army, and his elephants, lent credence to this theory. It felt a touch traitorous to wish for such a result, for Aurelia still felt very much a Roman, but it seemed the only way that they would ever be able to leave the city, the only way that any kind of ordinary existence could be resumed. Yet even that would be transient, she thought wearily. Hanno’s oaths would mean a return to Italy, and to Hannibal’s army. For her, that signified life in a followers’ camp. Hanno asserted that she would be safe there, but after the few days she’d spent in one, Aurelia knew that her existence would be far from easy.

  There was another way, one that she didn’t even like to admit to. After all that Hanno had done for her – rescuing her from Hippocrates and helping her to bury Publius were just two of the things – to consider leaving him felt like the ultimate form of betrayal. When her loneliness and grief overwhelmed her, however, she couldn’t help revisiting the idea: she fantasised about escaping to the Roman camps outside the city, there to find Quintus. After that, she could travel to Rhegium, to find out if her husband Lucius had lived or died. A different guilt scourged her now. What if he had recovered from his injuries? Would he have given her up for dead as easily as she had him? She doubted it. Did that mean that she should have remained loyal to Lucius, instead of betraying him with Hanno? No, Aurelia decided. Her union with him had been serviceable but sterile, and typical of an arranged marriage. There had been none of the fire she felt with Hanno. Publius had been the cement that had held them together. With him gone, there would have been nothing left but grief-laden memories.

  Neither could she return to the family farm, because fighting still raged in Campania thanks to Capua’s continued support for Hannibal. Quintus would not return to it until the war was over. Her only other option was Rome, and the house that she had shared with Lucius. Picturing that brought home a stark realisation. To go back would merely move what she had here to another place, with the obvious absence of Hanno.

  Aurelia sighed. Life had to be accepted as it was, but that didn’t mean that she had to remain incarcerated forever. There could be little real harm in venturing beyond her door, surely? The guards from the palace were unlikely to frequent this part of the city. In broad daylight, other men would not accost her. If she didn’t speak to anyone, her Roman accent would go unnoticed. Moreover, the baths that Hanno had taken her to once weren’t far.

  Her mood lifted at once.

  Life could go on. Life would go on.

  With Hanno.

  Chapter XX

  WITHIN A DAY of returning safely, the news reached the Roman camps that it had been Attalus who had betrayed the plot to open a gate in the city walls. All eighty conspirators had been tortured to death and, in a stark warning from Epicydes, the heads of many had been shot into the no man’s land between Syracuse and the Roman fortifications. As far as Quintus had been able to ascertain, Marius’ head had not been one of them, but he still dreaded what the Syracusans had done with his friend’s body. He longed to end the siege now, and to avenge yet another comrade’s death.

  He also wanted to reveal Pera’s role in Attalus’ treachery, but knew it for a fruitless exercise. As if to prove that his concerns were well grounded, Pera had taken to snooping around the maniple’s tents, ostensibly checking to see if Quintus was well. His real purpose was revealed one day when he casually dropped Attalus into the conversation. Quintus put on the blankest of faces, and said that there had been so many Syracusan dogs that he’d long since forgotten their names. Pera had seemed satisfied, but from that moment on, Quintus took care not to wander anywhere on his own, especially at night.

  The siege dragged on with no signs of any change. The weather grew warm and pleasant, and the grey, cloudy days of winter became a distant memory. As the days passed, the temperatures climbed steadily, and Quintus and his comrades resigned themselves to another baking-hot summer, covered in dust, manning their fortifications outside the city. Inevitably, the maniple’s morale dipped. The thought of going on patrol, once something that they would have wanted to avoid, became every man’s dream. When Corax overheard Quintus and Urceus talking of this one day, he laughed and told them not to live in hope.

  ‘Just be grateful that we’re not stationed to the south of the city, near those damn marshes,’ he warned. ‘Men are dropping there like flies, from malaria, fevers, dysentery and the like. At least we don’t have to worry about such things.’

  Corax’s words were of scant consolation as Quintus and Urceus paced up and down the ramparts day after day, with nothing to do other than stare at the distant, impregnable walls of Syracuse. It seemed that the monotony would never end.

  Two evenings later, things changed. Corax came strolling over to where Quintus and his comrades were sitting outside their tent. There followed the usual salutes, the offers of wine, and some awkward chitchat. Like his comrades, Quintus was wondering what Corax’s purpose was. There was typically an ulterior motive to his visits, but it wasn’t for hastati to ask.

  ‘Have you heard about the Spartan that some of the naval boys captured today?’ asked Corax out of the blue.

  Quintus’ ears pricked up. ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Damippus, his name is. It turns out he was being sent by Epicydes to talk with King Philip of Macedon.’ Now Corax had everyone’s interest. Hannibal and Philip had been allies for some time; the Macedonian king had attacked Roman colonies in Illyria two years previously. He had been defeated, but his hostility towards the Republic remained undimmed. It wasn’t surprising that Epicydes, who like most Syracusans was of Greek descent, would attempt to win Philip’s aid.

  ‘I take it that Damippus won’t be getting to Macedon any time soon, sir,’ said Urceus with a snicker that was echoed by the rest of the contubernium.

  ‘You’d think so, but Epicydes is desperate to ransom him,’ Corax replied. ‘An envoy was sent out from the walls within hours of Damippus’ capture.’

  ‘The consul’s not going to give him up, surely, sir?’ Urceus asked.

  ‘This is where it gets complicated, hastatus. Sp
arta is in alliance with the Aetolian Confederacy. Our Senate is angling to weave a similar union, because it always pays to have friends on the Greek coastline, especially if military action has to be taken against Macedon. By ransoming Damippus, we’d have more chance of the Aetolians looking favourably on our overtures of friendship.’

  Corax had the hastati in the palm of his hand now, Quintus decided, gazing around the circle of rapt faces. As ordinary soldiers, they never heard information of this type. By including them, Corax deepened their loyalty to him – without them even realising it. Although he could see through his tactics, Quintus felt the same way. Corax was a great commander, and fighter. He led from the front, and always exposed himself to the same dangers as his men. He looked out for them as if they were his wayward children, and in return, thought Quintus fiercely, we love him.

  ‘Why are you telling this, sir?’ Urceus voiced the question in everyone’s mind.

  ‘You were bitching the other day about being bored.’

  Urceus coloured, and Quintus took a sudden interest in the strap of a sandal.

  Corax chuckled. ‘Relax. This isn’t a punishment duty. Marcellus has agreed to talks with the Syracusans about Damippus. The meeting is to take place at the Galeagra tower.’

  ‘The Galeagra, sir? That’s opposite our section.’ Quintus cringed at Placidus’ ability to state the obvious.

  But Corax didn’t lambast him. ‘That’s right. Which is perhaps why Marcellus thought it fair that this maniple provides a century to accompany his officers to the negotiation.’ The hastati voiced their enthusiastic agreement and Corax smiled. ‘It should be straightforward enough, brothers. Unless something disastrous happens, there won’t be any fighting. You’ll get a chance to see the walls up close without the risk of stones from the enemy catapults smashing in your skulls, and to gauge the mettle of the soldiers who’ll be with Epicydes’ envoys.’