by Ben Kane
One corner of Corax’s lips pulled upwards. ‘Crespo. Jug …’ A moment later, he opened his eyes. ‘Take my helmet off. It feels as if it’s made of lead.’
Quintus hurriedly undid the chinstrap and lifted the helmet off Corax’s head. Underneath, the centurion’s felt liner was drenched in sweat.
‘That’s better,’ muttered Corax.
‘Let me take a look at your stomach, sir,’ offered Quintus, his hands reaching for Corax’s belt buckle.
‘Leave it.’ A trace of the familiar iron had reappeared in Corax’s voice. ‘I’m done.’
This time the look Quintus and Urceus shared was despairing. ‘Are you thirsty, sir?’ Quintus asked.
‘No.’ Corax managed a little chuckle. ‘It’s ironic to die in a wine shop without even getting to taste what it has to offer. Ah, Crespo, you were right. I should have known.’
Black fear slithered around Quintus’ stomach, but he dared not vocalise it. ‘I don’t understand, sir.’
‘That Pera was a murderous dog.’
An incandescent rage darkened Quintus’ vision. He heard Urceus’ voice asking, ‘Pera did this to you, sir? Not some Syracusans?’
‘Pera. It was Pera. He lured me in here with a simple ruse, promising the finest vintage he had ever tasted. Like a fool, I sent my men away, told them I’d find them later.’ Corax coughed. There was fluid on his breath. ‘He stuck me the moment we were on our own. I never had a chance.’
Quintus wanted to find Pera and slice him to pieces, but he knew in his gut that the centurion was long gone. ‘Why did he do it, sir?’
‘Because … because of the hold I have over him. He’s scared that Marcellus will find out he’s a mollis.’
The friends gasped in unison, in shock. Love of another man was outlawed in the army.
Pera must also have hated that Corax had defended him, Quintus decided. Guilt scourged him.
‘I never imagined that another centurion would kill me …’ Corax’s voice died away.
Quintus thought for a moment that Corax had gone. Hot tears ran down his face. Urceus was in a similar state. ‘He was the best damn centurion in the whole Roman army,’ he whispered.
Corax took a shuddering breath, visibly rallied himself. ‘You’re good men, both of you. Promise that you’ll get Pera for this. I’d hate to go thinking that he got away with it.’
‘I’ll kill Pera if it’s the last thing I do, sir,’ swore Quintus.
‘Same here, sir,’ said Urceus fervently.
Satisfied, Corax closed his eyes. A moment later, he shivered. ‘I’m cold.’
Quintus could see nothing in the room that they could use as a blanket, but by the time his gaze had returned to Corax, it was too late. The centurion had stopped breathing. His eyes had opened again, and had a glassy look to them. Quintus checked for a pulse, but there was none. He bent to Corax’s lips, to let his soul leave his body.
‘He bled out.’ Urceus’ voice was tight with emotion. ‘Bled out, like a stuck pig.’
‘That fucking whoreson Pera will pay for this,’ said Quintus. ‘Even if I have to hunt him for the rest of my life.’
‘You won’t be alone.’
Both of them wept for a time. There was no shame in it. They had been through so much together, and Corax had always been there to lead them. He had been a permanent feature in their lives, like a great sea wall upon which the waves endlessly break. No matter how bad the situation, they had been able to depend on Corax. The disasters at Trasimene, Cannae and, more recently, Syracuse, had not shaken his resolve. And now he was gone, just like that. Murdered by one of his own. It was so damn pointless, thought Quintus bitterly. Pera would die for what he had done.
When they had reined in their anger and grief a little, they laid Corax out on the floor of an empty storeroom with his hands folded on his chest.
‘Let’s hope that none of our lot touch him,’ said Quintus, knowing that some soldiers wouldn’t think twice about taking something as fine as Corax’s sword.
‘With a bit of luck, they’ll be more interested in the wine. No Syracusans will come in either. They’re all too damn scared. Corax will rest here until we can come back for him.’
Quintus nodded sadly. ‘Aye. We need to find the rest of the maniple. Tell them what happened.’
‘The gods help Pera when we tell the lads. They will want to tear him limb from limb.’
‘We might get lucky and come across him somewhere. I’ll offer up a prize bull to Fortuna if we kill him today,’ swore Quintus.
‘Make that two bulls. And if we don’t find him, well, some Syracusans will do instead.’ Urceus laughed unpleasantly.
Quintus recognised the same ugly feeling in himself. He wasn’t interested in slaying unarmed civilians, but if there were enemy soldiers to lay in the mud, that was a different matter. It wouldn’t bring back Corax, but it would release some of his overpowering rage. In a savage way, harking back to ancient times, it could be considered a sacrifice in the centurion’s honour. After that, Quintus wanted wine. More wine than he had ever drunk in his life.
Then, if Pera wasn’t already dead, he, Urceus and those who wanted to be involved could begin laying their plans. It was a matter that they, the ordinary soldiers, would have to solve for themselves, for there was no way of proving what Pera had done. The knowledge that his comrades would want to help did little to ease Quintus’ pain, which pressed like a heavy weight on his chest. But it gave him a focus, for which he was grateful. Without it, he would have been lost. Keep breathing, he thought. Keep walking. Do as Corax would have wished. Stay alive.
At first, Hanno and Aurelia had made good progress. His plan was to follow the southern city wall as it snaked its way along a ridge from the Euryalus fortress towards the sea. After perhaps fifteen stadia, they would have to negotiate the slope down into the walled suburb of Neapolis, where he hoped to find refuge. If it had fallen, however, Achradina and its strong defences were not far away. The idea had seemed excellent, but to Hanno’s rising frustration, he had not been the only person to have it.
Within three stadia, the narrow, unpaved street that ran along in the shadow of the high wall became clogged with humanity. Entire families – grandparents, mothers, fathers and terrified-looking children – walked together, the adults carrying their most prized possessions on their backs. Dogs – their family pets – ran up and down between the groupings, sniffing noses and barking incessantly. One optimist had decided to take his fattening pig with him, on a lead. It snorted and grunted its unhappiness at being in such a crowd. Hanno laughed when, after not long at all, it decided that it had had enough and charged off up an alley, leaving its cursing owner with nothing more than a length of rope. Shopkeepers and craftsmen laboured along, bent under the weight of goods, tools and, from the chinking sound, bags of money. There were even a couple of merchants with overloaded ox-drawn carts, which almost blocked the street.
‘They’re fools,’ he complained to Aurelia. ‘At times like this, what’s important is your own skin. But none of them can see it!’
‘You’re a soldier, Hanno. You intuitively know what to do in situations like this. These people don’t.’
‘It’ll be the death of them,’ declared Hanno more harshly than he might have if they hadn’t been in such danger. If he hadn’t forbidden Aurelia to look for Elira, hadn’t insisted that she leave her cat behind. ‘We’ll never reach safety at this rate.’
‘Where are you taking us?’ asked Aurelia as they ducked into a lane so narrow that a fat man would have to walk sideways in it.
‘I’ve no idea. It doesn’t matter, really, as long as it’s away from where we were.’ Hanno could picture the slaughter that would happen if – when – the legionaries arrived. ‘We need another street that runs southeast, towards Neapolis and Achradina.’
Her answering smile wasn’t convincing, but Hanno didn’t have the time to reassure her. Never had time been more of the essence.
It didn�
�t take long to find a thoroughfare that led where they wanted, but it was even more crowded than the street by the wall. Against his better judgement, but gambling that there would be fewer people about, Hanno led them further north, closer to the city centre – and the Romans. His ploy worked for a while. They made their way through an abandoned market surrounded by shops and temples, and into an affluent residential area full of apartment blocks that rose three and four storeys high. Most of the residents had already fled; only the stubborn, old and criminal remained. A number of the latter eyed Aurelia with lustful eyes. At first, Hanno’s drawn sword and fierce demeanour were enough to intimidate such lowlifes, but when five ganged up together, their courage suddenly soared. It vanished as fast when two of their number were choking to death on their own blood. Hanno left the shocked survivors to their own devices, shoving Aurelia away. ‘They’re cowards. Once we’re out of sight, we’ll be safe.’ From those ones, perhaps, his worried side retorted. What about the thousands of Romans?
They saw no legionaries for some time, however, and Hanno began to hope that they might reach Achradina, their new objective. What he hadn’t gambled on was getting lost. Smoke from burning buildings filled the sky, preventing him from using the sun as a guide. He wasn’t familiar with many of the streets off the main avenues and had been using the noise of fighting as an approximate pointer to keep them heading in an easterly direction. Too late, he realised his error. Battles were raging in whole swathes of Syracuse. Nor had all the defenders fled. When they stumbled upon a group of Syracusan troops under the command of a determined-looking officer, Hanno was forced to join them. It was only the arrival of large numbers of Romans at the other end of the street that gave him and Aurelia the opportunity to run. Curses followed the pair as they charged down an alley. Hanno took the rear, in case they were pursued. After fifty paces, the lane gave on to a triangular-shaped area lined by shops and with a central fountain. Aurelia halted abruptly. Hanno peered over her shoulder and cursed. It was full of legionaries. Some were ransacking the businesses, while others were busy with several wailing women and girls whom they’d captured. The bodies of those they’d already slain – a couple of middle-aged men and a boy – lay like bloody, discarded puppets on the ground.
Shouts and the sound of fighting came from behind them. They couldn’t go back, or forward. ‘What should we do?’ whispered Aurelia.
‘Stay where we are,’ replied Hanno grimly.
‘And if we’re seen?’
‘I’ll protect you.’ It sounded as stupid as Hanno had thought it would. He wasn’t Achilles, and she knew it too.
‘I don’t want to be taken alive.’
‘It won’t come to that.’
‘I know how this might go, Hanno. Promise that you’ll kill me if you have to.’
He flinched before her steady gaze. He wanted to rant and rail at the gods, but instead offered up a silent prayer to Tanit, the mother goddess so revered by Carthaginians.
Protect us, please. Do not ask me to slay the woman I love.
She didn’t press him further, and they settled down to wait until it was safe either to retreat or to proceed. It felt like Hades on earth, with the screams of women and men’s laughter assaulting their ears from one side, and the din of soldiers killing each other doing the same from the other. There was no way to avoid hearing any of it: each of them had to keep watch on an end of the alley.
Hanno had hoped that things might grow a little better when the fighting to their rear died down. What he hadn’t gambled upon was for the Syracusans to have gained the upper hand and that the officer would remember where they’d gone. The first he knew of it was when three Syracusan soldiers entered the far end of the alley. They spotted him and Aurelia at once. With eager cries, they broke into a run.
Hanno’s stomach turned a neat loop. We are fucked. If he fought the men, the Romans in the street beyond would hear. If they exited the alley, they’d be seen. Which fate was worse?
‘I’ve been looking. There’s a shop around the corner,’ hissed Aurelia. ‘I don’t think there’s anyone inside.’
‘Go, then!’ replied Hanno. The trio of Syracusans were thirty paces away.
‘Wait. There’s a legionary facing our way.’ Aurelia’s calm stunned him, but he obeyed.
Six heartbeats later – it felt like six hundred – she tapped his arm. Crouched down, they sloped out into the open with Aurelia in the lead. Hanno didn’t look beyond the door of the shop, which was ajar. It would become obvious if they were seen. No shouts filled their ears, however, as they slipped inside and pushed the door to. It seemed to be an apothecary’s – the air was thick with the smell of aromatic herbs and more exotic substances. Two large mortars and pestles occupied a prominent space on the counter, and the shelves on the walls were lined with pots and small glass jars. Hanno scanned the room, but there was no locking bar visible for the door. Heart racing, he leaned against it and pressed his ear to the timbers. Aurelia watched him, her face taut with fear.
‘Where have they gone?’ shouted a man in Greek.
‘Shut your mouth,’ growled a second voice.
‘Why?’
‘Ho, Julius, you’d better finish quick!’ roared a man in Latin. ‘We’ve got company. It’s some Syracusan whoresons, come to save their womenfolk.’
‘Shit! Go back!’ cried the first Greek speaker, and Hanno exulted.
Confusion reigned outside as the Syracusans fled, and the legionaries grabbed their weapons and followed. When the sound of men charging into the alley had died away, Hanno risked a look outside. All of the legionaries appeared to have gone, apart from one man, whose backside could be seen pumping up and down between a woman’s legs.
Sprinting forward, Hanno stabbed him in the back. Then, heaving the legionary off his sobbing victim, he cut his throat for good measure. The woman – girl – stared up at Hanno, mouth agape with terror, her face and breasts a mass of bruises. ‘Run,’ Hanno ordered, heaving the corpse to one side. ‘Find somewhere to hide.’
Aurelia made to help the woman up, but he pulled her back. ‘She’s only a child!’ Aurelia protested.
His grip on her arm tightened. ‘We can’t help. It’s asking enough of the gods that we should survive. What’s happening now is just the start, believe me. By nightfall, things will be infinitely worse.’
Her gaze dropped to the girl, who hadn’t stirred from where she lay. ‘Save yourself, please. Before they come back.’
The girl turned her face away.
Aurelia snatched up a bloodied gladius and thrust it, hilt first, at her. ‘Take this. You can use it on them, or yourself.’ As the girl took it, Aurelia regarded Hanno, her eyes full of tears. ‘I’m ready.’
Praying that their run of bad luck had ended, Hanno made for the small street opposite.
For a short time, they saw no soldiers – of either side. At a crossroads two hundred paces further on, Hanno dared to hope. There was a human hand painted on a wall, the forefinger pointing down one of the four streets. Underneath it, he read the Greek word ‘ACHRADINA’. Signs were rare in cities, so he had extra reason to feel grateful. ‘This way.’
They had gone perhaps fifty paces before a quartet of legionaries stepped out of a cheesemonger’s. Each man bore a round of cheese under one arm. They whooped at the sight of Hanno and Aurelia, and swaggered towards them.
‘Go back,’ whispered Hanno frantically, but his heart sank as he turned. Alerted by the noise of their fellows, another three Romans were clattering down the front steps of a house that they must have been ransacking. Their path to the crossroads was blocked, and there were no alleys in sight. He hammered on one door and then another, but they had been barred from within.
‘I’ll tell them I’m Roman,’ said Aurelia. ‘That you’re not to be harmed.’
‘They won’t listen to a word you say. Look at them, they’re like wild animals.’ Placing Aurelia behind him, Hanno moved to stand against the wall of a shop. At the last mome
nt, he saw a Syracusan shield lying in the dirt nearby. Gripping that, he felt a little better. With luck, he could take a few of them before he was overwhelmed or slain.
‘Give me your dagger,’ Aurelia said. ‘I can fight too, when they get close enough.’
There was so much Hanno wanted to say. How glad he was that they had met, how much he had enjoyed their time together. How it had been his dream to take her to Carthage in peacetime, where they could have started a family together. Without a word, he tugged the blade from its sheath and passed it to her.
As the first leering legionaries closed in, Hanno saw two more appear further down the street. They paused, as if unsure whether to get involved, and then marched towards them with grim purpose. Hanno’s despair nearly overcame him. Seven to one had been bad odds, but it hadn’t been out of the realms of possibility that he and Aurelia could have escaped.
Against nine enemies they had no chance.
Chapter XXV
QUINTUS AND URCEUS wandered aimlessly through the streets, joining in on occasion with the brutal fights against the few Syracusan soldiers who were prepared to resist. For the most part, though, the grief-stricken pair kept searching for Pera. However unlikely it was that they would find him in the violence-riven city, neither man could give up, for they could not put Corax from their minds. For more than four years, he had been their leader, their guardian, their father-figure. To lose him was bad enough, but to lose him to murder – by Pera – made it an outrage of the most terrible kind.
There was no sign of their quarry, but they did not let up. Pera was somewhere in Syracuse. While the fighting went on, there was every chance of slaying him unnoticed, and if the word of the legionaries whom they encountered could be relied on, they were gradually nearing Achradina and Tyche. Pera was likelier to be there than elsewhere, they decided. Mollis and treacherous whoreson he might be, but he’d do his duty.
Their advance was halted by a set of burning houses. Thick smoke billowed into the sky and flames licked up the sides of the wooden buildings. From there, it spread on to their roofs, threatening the edifices to either side. Shrieks could be heard within. As they paused, a woman threw herself from a second-floor window, landing with a terrible crack on the cobbles below. She did not move again, but laughing legionaries gathered to watch as a man – her husband? – appeared in the window with a small child in his arms. By mutual, silent consent, Quintus and Urceus turned and headed the other way.
