‘Get your armour off,’ he ordered Deon. ‘You’ll float better.’
‘Look, sir.’
Hanno’s gaze followed Deon’s outstretched arm. ‘What is it?’
‘There, sir, close to the soldier wearing the Boeotian helmet. Poor bitch.’
Hanno stared, and finally saw the man Deon had described, perhaps three hundred paces away, and halfway between their position and that of the Romans. His heart nearly stopped. A woman was stooped over another, tugging, trying to pull her upright. She had black hair. Her shape was familiar. Claws of terror raked his guts. Aurelia was in Syracuse. It couldn’t be her. Could it? The woman glanced at the Romans, who were being marshalled into a line by their officers, and she threw a despairing look at the river. Hanno cursed savagely. It was Aurelia. ‘Go,’ he ordered. ‘Save yourself.’
‘You’re not going up there, sir?’ Deon’s voice was incredulous. ‘It’s suicide.’
‘That’s my woman. I have to.’ I cannot just leave her to die. ‘Go! May the gods protect you.’
Deon’s eyes were full of respect as he saluted Hanno. He turned and was gone.
Sword in hand, Hanno began running towards where he’d seen Aurelia. Oddly, there was a benefit to advancing into the maw of death. The tide of Syracusans thinned as he headed uphill, allowing him to move faster than before. Many of the retreating soldiers didn’t even notice what he was doing. There were disbelieving stares from some; a couple of men told him he was insane. Hanno didn’t bother to reply, keeping his focus on the woman’s shape.
From above came the Latin command, ‘Close order!’ Other voices repeated the cry. His belly roiled with fresh fear as shields clattered off each other: the Romans were about to advance. Hanno began to sprint. A mad cackle escaped his lips as he spotted the woman, who had somehow managed to lift her companion off the ground. If it wasn’t Aurelia, he would die for nothing. Of all the cruel jokes that the gods had played on him in his life, that would be the worst.
As he closed in, however, he felt a heartbeat’s relief. It was Aurelia, and she was helping another woman, whose face was ashen in colour. This woman saw him first; she muttered something, and Aurelia’s head turned. Her mouth fell open in shock. ‘Hanno! How did you find us?’
‘Pure luck, and a soldier called Deon.’ What in all damnation are you doing here? he wanted to ask. Instead he demanded roughly, ‘Is Elira here as well?’
‘No. She wouldn’t come.’
‘She has more sense than you then.’ He glanced at Aurelia’s companion. ‘How badly are you hurt?’
‘FORWARD!’ bawled a voice in Latin. Hanno winced, but he did not look at the Romans.
The woman had collapsed again. Her face was resigned. ‘I think my left leg is broken. I tripped, fell, at the top of the slope.’
Hanno stared. Subcutaneous bleeding surrounded a nasty bulge on the inside of her left calf. Shit. ‘It’s definitely fractured.’
‘I’ve been telling Aurelia to leave me,’ said the woman in an odd, calm voice.
Twin points of red marked Aurelia’s cheeks. ‘I can’t. It’s not right. She’s been helping me since we left Syracuse.’
Hanno peered up the slope. The legionaries had begun to descend. The only thing in his and the women’s favour was that they were doing it at the walk. There were clear-headed officers in charge, he thought absently. No need to run down, risking life and limb. The Syracusans were going nowhere. Nor, at this moment, were they. He searched for moisture in his mouth, found none. ‘We have to go now, or we’re all dead,’ he croaked. ‘I’ll carry you.’
‘You can’t,’ said the woman.
Hanno could see the fear — and hope — in her face. He reached out. ‘I can. I’ll sling you over my shoulder.’
Her face hardened as she found new resolve. ‘If you take me, we have no chance. Without me, you might make it.’
Aurelia looked horrified. ‘We can’t abandon you!’
‘You have to. Even on the other side of the river, you’ll have to move fast. I’ll slow you down.’
Hanno glanced at Aurelia, hissed, ‘She’s right.’
Aurelia hesitated, before gripping the woman’s arm in farewell. ‘The gods be with you.’
‘And with you.’ From the folds of her dress, she produced a dagger. ‘Maybe I can take one of them with me.’
Hanno dragged Aurelia away. Half walking, half running, he guided her down the slope, over the mass of equipment, weapons and bodies. When Hanno looked back, the woman’s huddled shape had nearly been swallowed up by the wall of advancing Romans. It was a faint hope that she would die fast, but Hanno prayed for it anyway. It was the least she deserved.
They reached the water’s edge a short distance from the ford, which had become impassable due to the number of men trying to cross. Hanno quickly took off his cuirass. Flanked by scores of others with the same idea, they managed to swim across. Once on the other side, like any prey that is being hunted, they looked behind them. The Roman line had almost reached the bottom of the slope. A moment later, there was a sickening crash as the legionaries struck the mass of Syracusans clustered by the ford. Hanno did his best to ignore the screaming that followed. He hoped that Kleitos in particular made it through what was to come. Urging Aurelia onward, he headed for the safety of the trees that fringed the valley’s eastern end. Dozens of soldiers ran alongside them. The same haunted look was on all their faces. No one spoke, because there was nothing to say.
Hanno didn’t come to a halt until the muscles in his legs were trembling with exhaustion. Aurelia had made no complaint, but she too looked ready to drop. They were deep in the forest, and a good height above the valley, level with the cloud of vultures that waited in the air overhead. In the distance, sounds of combat — men’s cries, the clash of weapons — could still be heard, but they hadn’t seen another soul for some time. ‘Let’s rest a little,’ he said.
Aurelia sank to the ground with a groan.
Thank you for your protection, Baal Saphon, thought Hanno fervently. Stay with us.
After a while, Aurelia lifted her head. ‘What should we do?’
‘Not so fast,’ said Hanno, finding his anger. ‘What in all the gods’ names were you doing in the followers’ camp?’
She had the grace to blush. ‘The thought of not seeing you for only the gods know how long was too much to bear. What if you hadn’t come back at all?’
‘When were you going to seek me out?’
‘Once we made contact with Himilco. I didn’t want to interfere with your duties before that.’
He wanted to shake her. ‘Your foolishness nearly got you killed! If Deon hadn’t seen you-’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’ She began to weep.
His anger melted away. He had rescued her; they had got away. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said, ‘You’re here now. We’re together.’
In a crazy way, life had just taken a turn for the better, he decided. If they could avoid the Romans, safety in the town of Akragas — a natural target for Himilco to take — beckoned.
Chapter XV
One bright morning, Corax and Vitruvius summoned their men at dawn. This in itself wasn’t unusual, but the grim set to the centurions’ faces as they went from tent to tent told its own story.
‘I knew that things were too good to last,’ grumbled Urceus under his breath as he clambered from his blankets.
‘To be fair, we have had it easy enough since Hippocrates had his arse kicked,’ said Mattheus, yawning. ‘But it looked bad when Himilco and his bloody army arrived, eh?’
There were rumbles of agreement from the rest, including Quintus.
‘But Marcellus knew what he was doing.’ As ever, Mattheus was ready to talk from the moment his eyes opened. ‘Why leave the safety of our walls when we could stay where we were and shout obscenities at the guggas. Off they went, soon enough, to try and ambush the new legion that had arrived from Italy.’