‘Lucius is probably dead. Even if he isn’t, I have no reason to go back to him.’ She stepped right up to Hanno, and drew his arms one by one around her. ‘This is where I’ve wanted to be ever since you appeared outside our house near Capua.’
Hanno’s heart beat a staccato rhythm off the inside of his ribs. He was dimly aware of Elira retreating to the window to give them some privacy. He embraced Aurelia, breathing deep of her scent. ‘Oh gods above. It’s what I’ve wanted too. I’m just sorry that it had to be like this. With all that’s happened.’ One of her fingers came up and touched his lips, silencing him.
‘Hold me,’ she whispered. ‘When I’m here with you, I feel safe.’
Chapter XIII
News of the two guards’ deaths, and Aurelia’s and Elira’s escape, reached Hippocrates soon after Hanno’s arrival at the barracks. Hippocrates was said to be incensed, but to Hanno’s relief, his anger hadn’t translated into much action. Patrols within the city were doubled for a short while, and a number of street urchins were captured and tortured, but that seemed to be it. As time passed, Hanno concluded that Bear and his cronies remained at large, or if they had been caught, that they hadn’t had enough information to incriminate either him or Kleitos. Aurelia and Elira remained safe in their room throughout.
By the third day, Kleitos judged it safe enough for Hanno to take Aurelia out of the city to cremate Publius. Kleitos had checked the duty rosters beforehand to ensure that the soldiers who had seized Hanno upon his arrival weren’t on duty. If stopped, the couple’s pretence was to be that they were man and wife, the boy their deceased son, and Elira a servant.
Aurelia had retained her poise since her rescue, but the moment that she, Hanno and Elira began their sad journey, it cracked. ‘If only Quintus could be here too,’ she whispered. Hanno stared blankly at her. ‘He’s here on Sicily,’ she said, dissolving into floods of tears, clutching the linen-wrapped shape that was Publius. Elira also began to weep. Hanno instinctively went to put an arm around Aurelia, but, worried that she would think it inappropriate, he stopped. It wasn’t long, though, before he did it anyway. She didn’t tell him to stop, so he walked alongside her, his arm around her waist. Feeling an unexpected depth of sadness, for he had never met the child alive, he supported her all the way. It felt odd that Quintus was stationed here on the island, but at least they would never meet. Hanno didn’t want to face that possibility, especially considering his feelings for Aurelia.
He needn’t have been worried about the guards, who took one look and waved them on. What he didn’t like was hearing the announcement, repeated several times as they walked through, that at the slightest risk of danger, the gate could be closed without notice.
Standing outside the walls, therefore, felt most disquieting. Hanno half expected to see an enemy patrol appear. Yet despite the siege, life here — and death — had achieved a kind of status quo since the failed Roman assault. From the vantage points on their fortifications, enemy sentries could see anyone who came along the road that led to the north, but their fear of the Syracusan artillery meant that they did nothing. It meant, too, that funerals were held as they always had been, among the innumerable tombs that lined the thoroughfare.
There were roadside stalls where religious trinkets, wood for pyres, animals for sacrifice and even hot food could be bought. Priests, orators and professional grievers offered their services. Musicians played dirges on flutes and lyres. A soothsayer in a greasy leather cap promised a good chance of favourable readings in the entrails of any animals he examined. Whores and other lowlifes congregated around the less well-kept tombs. It was similar in many ways to Carthage, although there were none of the ornamented masks that went into the afterlife with the dead. Hanno’s apprehension about where they were gradually eased. He, Aurelia and Elira were just three mourners in a crowd. No one paid them any attention, and the Romans weren’t going to either.
A few extra coins saw the pyre built, and tended by the son of the man who’d sold him the wood and charcoal. Before long, the heat from its flames forced them to retreat. Hanno and Elira stood a little distance back from Aurelia, who was so locked in her own world that she didn’t notice. They remained there for some time, the background noise of music, other mourners and the roving vendors filling the air.
‘Life can be so cruel,’ said Aurelia at last.
Hanno moved closer. ‘It can,’ he replied sombrely. ‘I have no children, but I can imagine that losing one must be terrible beyond belief.’
Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. After a moment, she said, ‘I wasn’t just talking about my little Publius. My mother died about two months ago. Right after that, Lucius was badly injured in Rhegium. The last I heard, he’d been unconscious for days. To lose one’s loved one is bad enough, but two — as well as one’s husband? And Quintus is probably no more than a few miles away.’
Hanno felt too awkward to talk about Quintus. He put an arm around her again. ‘I had no idea that your mother was dead. I’m sorry.’
‘It was a growth in her belly, on her liver, that took her. She wasted away in a matter of weeks.’
‘Atia was a good woman. Your father must be grieving still.’
A bitter laugh. ‘Of course! How could you have known? Father is gone too. He died at Cannae.’
‘Damn it, Aurelia, I’m sorry. My father was also killed that day.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘And your brothers?’
‘They survived, thank the gods. I left them in good health when I departed for Sicily.’
‘It is good that you have living flesh and blood.’ Her voice changed, becoming wistful. ‘Do you ever think of Quintus? He’s stationed on the island, you know. He might be close by.’
‘I have wondered whether he could be here,’ said Hanno, realising that his relationship with Aurelia meant that he could never now regard Quintus as an enemy. Had he truly ever done so? he wondered. ‘May the gods keep him safe.’
It took a number of hours to burn Publius’ body, and several more until the embers had sufficiently cooled. By this point, Hanno was keen to regain the safety of the walls. After so long at war, it felt foolish to remain in such an exposed position. Just because the Romans had never staged an attack along this route didn’t mean that they mightn’t try. Yet the sun had almost set by the time that they set out for Syracuse, Aurelia clutching an urn full of her child’s ashes. The area had already emptied, and they were among the last people to enter the city before the gate was closed for the night.
Life settled into an odd kind of routine as the heightened security over the soldiers murdered by Aurelia died down. She and Elira began venturing outside. They never went far, but, as they told Hanno, anything was better than being cooped up day and night. He visited once a day, often twice. Kleitos sometimes came with him. The urn and the makeshift shrine in the corner were reminders of what had gone before, but Aurelia’s mood remained if not happy then stable, and a touch less sad than it had been. Thinking that a distraction from their confined existence might help, Hanno bought a kitten one day, a mewling bundle of tabby fur. To his relief, both women fell in love with it at once. Aurelia named it Hannibal, after its habit of ambushing the back of their legs from around the corner of the beds. Hanno found this hilarious, and even Kleitos’ disapproval of the creature was half-hearted. Soon all of them were spending hours playing with Hannibal, getting him to chase a trailed length of wool, or to pat a ball of it around the floor. Hanno would admit it to few people, but caring for the tiny creature was a welcome break from his military routine.