The calm bestowed on Hanno by this offering lasted as long as it took him to leave the temple complex. The entrance was clogged by a crowd of the usual type of supplicants. As he threaded his way between them — the man with inflamed eyes, come in search of a cure, and the distraught mother, carrying her sick babe — he was overcome by bitterness. It was the same here as it had been at the shrines in Carthage, and, he suspected, at the temples of all gods in every land under the sun. The needy, the unwell, the dying, the jealous and the grieving came with a wide variety of offerings, from coinage to food, glassware and pottery, and what did they receive in return? Platitudes from a priest, and Hanno was tempted to think ‘nothing else’, but he didn’t quite dare. The gods were the only ones who could help him. It was they who had engineered the meeting between him and Aurelia. They would not — could not — leave things to continue as they were. Hanno told himself this a hundred times a day, but he was still riven by doubt.
Several more days passed. Hanno thought he caught a glimpse of Aurelia on her balcony one evening, but he dared not wave in case anyone saw. Impotent and furious, he determined to speak with Kleitos, his one friend in Syracuse. To do so would place his life squarely in Kleitos’ hands, but by this stage, he was resigned to that risk. If he didn’t act, Aurelia would continue to suffer degradation at Hippocrates’ hands indefinitely.
He pitched up at Kleitos’ door later that day, bearing a small amphora of wine and a hunk of the best ham that money could buy. The gifts ensured that Kleitos’ warm welcome became even more enthusiastic. Giving Hanno the only stool, he deftly cracked the wax seal on the amphora and filled two cups. Toasting each other, they drank deep.
‘Hungry?’ Kleitos jerked a thumb at the ham, which he’d placed on the table.
‘Let’s tackle it later, when we get back from the inn.’
Kleitos chuckled. ‘Ah. We’re going out, are we?’
‘It might be good to, yes. My men talk about a little place on a back street in Achradina. It’s worth the walk, by all accounts.’
‘Poseidon’s Trident, is that the one?’
Hanno felt a little disappointed. ‘You’ve been there.’
‘I’ve darkened the threshold of every tavern in Syracuse at one point or another.’ Kleitos slurped some wine. ‘I’d be happy to visit that one again, though. Especially if you’re buying!’
‘That was my intention,’ replied Hanno with a wink. He hesitated, unsure, but the thought of Aurelia was enough to make him continue. ‘I have a favour to ask.’
Kleitos set his cup down. ‘I’ve been wondering if you had something on your mind of late. As long as it doesn’t harm my city-’
‘It’s nothing like that,’ said Hanno quickly.
‘Then if I can help, I will,’ said Kleitos with an expansive gesture.
‘You might not say that when I’ve told you what it is.’
‘Ha!’ Kleitos raised a hand, stopping him. ‘I need more wine.’ When he’d filled their cups again and taken a large mouthful, he indicated that Hanno should continue.
‘Do you remember the Roman girl, the woman, I told you about?’
‘A while back? I think so. The one who was married.’
‘That’s right.’ Hanno could feel his emotions rising, but he forced them down. This had to be done with a cool head. ‘She’s here. In Syracuse.’
‘You’re taking the piss!’
‘I’m not. I saw her, about two weeks ago.’
‘That’s why you’ve been preoccupied! Been sneaking off to screw her, have you?’ Kleitos roared with laughter, but he saw that Hanno wasn’t joining in, and frowned. ‘Of course. She’s Roman, so she won’t be roaming about freely. Let me guess — she’s someone’s captive or slave, is that it?’
Hanno nodded.
‘That shouldn’t be hard to sort out. Being a mid-ranking officer carries some perks. I’ll come with you to see whichever prick it is who’s bought her. Once his head’s been smacked off the wall a few times, he’ll see the wisdom in selling her to you. For a pittance, naturally.’
‘My thanks. You’re a good friend, Kleitos. But it’s not that simple.’
‘Why ever not?’
He had to roll the dice, and hope. ‘Because her owner is Hippocrates.’
There was a sharp intake of breath. ‘You’re joking with me.’
‘I wish I was.’
‘You know that I’ve sworn to serve Hippocrates and Epicydes, both, with all of my strength, until my dying day.’ Kleitos’ voice was hard.
He had committed himself now. ‘You’ve said before that Hippocrates can be …’ Hanno struggled to find a suitable word. ‘… unpleasant. I’m concerned that he’s doing the most disgusting things to Aurelia. I can’t stand by and do nothing. I have to free her.’ Kleitos said nothing, and Hanno’s fear grew. ‘This has nothing to do with the war against the Romans, or my loyalty to your rulers. If it comes to it, I’ll die in the defence of your city. I swear that to you, on my mother’s grave.’
His words vanished into the yawning silence between them. ‘Damn it, Kleitos, she’s the woman I love,’ said Hanno. He could almost see Hippocrates’ guards coming to arrest him.
He was stunned when Kleitos began to laugh. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Your passion, my friend. Your burning need to convince me that what you want will not harm the war effort.’
‘So you’ll help me?’
‘How could I not? You’d aid me if I needed to free my lover, wouldn’t you? If it didn’t impact on your fight with Rome?’
‘As Baal Hammon is my witness, I would,’ said Hanno fervently.
‘Right then. We need a plan,’ Kleitos declared. ‘But don’t get your hopes up. Just because there are two of us now doesn’t mean this will succeed. We’re more likely to end up being flung over the walls while Hippocrates watches.’
The dire warning couldn’t stop Hanno from grinning.
He was no longer alone.
Chapter X
‘I could get used to this,’ said Mattheus, turning his face to the sun, which was dipping down to the western horizon. ‘Warm sun all afternoon. A nice breeze off the sea. Not an officer in sight.’
‘No sign of the fucking Syracusans either,’ added Urceus, spitting over the timber ramparts in the direction of the besieged city.
Quintus wasn’t going to argue with his comrades’ sentiments. It was true that over the previous weeks, life had become a little sedate, but after the horror of the failed naval attack on Syracuse, there was nothing wrong with that. Besides, it had been sheer luck that their commander Marcellus hadn’t taken their unit with him when he’d recently marched off to teach a lesson to the cities who had declared themselves for Syracuse. Megara Hyblaea had been taken by assault and then burned as an example of the fate that awaited those who defied Rome. While that victory had seen more than one town change sides yet again, there had been a good number of Roman casualties. Stop thinking like that! At times Quintus wondered if he’d lost his nerve, which made him feel ashamed. He didn’t admit this to a soul, not even Urceus. It flared up now, though. ‘It’d do us no harm to face an enemy attack,’ he said fiercely.
‘Eh?’ Mattheus looked at him as if he’d gone mad. ‘Why the fuck would you wish such a thing?’
‘Soldiers grow rusty if they don’t see enough active service,’ snapped Quintus.
‘Madman,’ said Mattheus, tapping his head. ‘I’m happy enough leaving off fighting for another while.’
Irritated, and a little worried that anyone would see beneath his bravado, Quintus stalked off along the rampart. The section that they were guarding was near the main camp, and ran up to and over one of the regularly placed gates that faced towards Syracuse. The portal was only ever opened when a patrol was sent out to investigate possible enemy activity. Thankfully, that was rare. Even now, men still had a healthy respect for Archimedes’ lethal artillery. Why risk soldiers’ lives in no man’s land when no assault was to be made on the city walls? thought Quintus. Marcellus was no fool. He was conserving his forces for a time when they would be needed.