‘It is a wonderful place,’ she said happily. ‘I could live here forever.’
‘Your Greek is coming along. It won’t be long before the locals think you’re one of them.’
‘Now you’re teasing me,’ she said, nudging him.
He grinned. ‘Doing my best to, anyway.’
They walked on in companionable silence, enjoying the sun’s heat on their backs. Hanno’s eyes drifted to the lines of smoke rising from the vast camp that filled the flat ground below the walls. Thousands of soldiers there would be preparing their evening meal. Somewhere on the island, he hoped that Quintus would be doing the same. He felt a pang for Mutt and his Libyans, back in Italy, and hoped that they were alive and well. It seemed likely that they were. The summer had seen little action, so the stalemate on the Italian peninsula continued. Hannibal still needed a port large enough to allow reinforcements to flow from his homeland, while the Romans’ every effort focused on chipping away at his allies: the cities and towns of southern Italy.
I’m not missing much, Hanno told himself. I’m doing my duty here. If Hippocrates and Himilco don’t see fit to use me, what can I do? The excuse — for that’s what it felt like — salved his conscience, but Hanno knew that by the time spring came around, he’d be raring for some action. Hannibal was also relying on him. He would try once more to gain Himilco’s ear. Aurelia glanced at him and smiled, and his heart twisted. What would happen to her then?
As they sat by the temple to Hera, his worries slipped away. Aurelia had gone inside, promising to return soon. In all likelihood, she was praying about women’s matters, but he wondered with a certain joy if it could be about marriage. The notion wasn’t so shocking, thought Hanno. Life was short and, in these times, even more uncertain than normal. Either or both of them could be dead before the next year’s campaign ended. A devilment took him. He’d ask her when she emerged. Kleitos was the only friend they had in the city, but that didn’t matter. Marriage wasn’t about having a large wedding feast, but about him and Aurelia, and their love.
Hanno’s excitement vanished when Aurelia came out looking sad. How could he have forgotten about her husband Lucius? That she was so near to her brother, yet so far? Again Hanno cursed the war for interfering in his life. In peacetime, it would have been possible to find a merchant ship travelling to Rhegium and to pay its captain to enquire there after the health of a certain Lucius Vibius Melito. It was not so now. Rhegium was in enemy territory. There was absolutely no way of finding out if Lucius had died of his injuries, and Hanno doubted that Aurelia would even consider marriage unless she were certain.
He had asked so many times if she was grieving that it felt intrusive to do so again, so Hanno put an arm around her instead. Without saying where they were going, he guided them to the inn, which was called the Grape and Grain. By the time they reached it, Aurelia had not spoken, but her mood had lifted a little. She seemed happy to go in for a drink. Hanno was thirsty for some of the locally produced wine, which was better than any he’d had in an age. Kleitos had laughed when Hanno had begun praising the stuff to him one night. ‘You wouldn’t have had reason to know, but the vineyards in the hills around Akragas are renowned,’ he’d said. ‘They make the best wines in Sicily.’
Now, ordering a large jug of the best vintage in the place, he poured them both a measure.
Looking Aurelia in the eye, he raised his cup. ‘To us.’
At last, the smile that made his belly flutter returned. ‘To us,’ she said.
By the time winter arrived, Hanno and Aurelia’s life had settled into a smooth routine. To all intents and purposes, they lived as man and wife. His duties as an army officer kept him busy during the day, allowing her to run their small household. With Elira left behind in Syracuse, Hanno had mentioned buying a slave to do the menial tasks, but Aurelia had rejected the offer out of hand. ‘Do you think I’m too grand to peel a vegetable or empty a chamber pot?’ she’d asked. Hanno had coloured.
‘Perhaps.’
She’d cuffed him then, gently. ‘Well, I’m not. I changed Publius’ underclothes myself from the first day. You wouldn’t believe what comes out of a baby’s bottom.’ A wistful look had entered her eye, and she’d added, ‘I have little enough to do when you’re not here. Keeping the place in order gives me a purpose.’
In retrospect, this had seemed obvious to Hanno, and so he began to take more pleasure in the aromatic herbs that Aurelia hung from the walls, the coloured blankets that covered the bed, and from her amusing descriptions of the markets and shops in the city. He was less impressed with some of her attempts at cooking, but had the good sense to smile and tell her that the food was delicious.
When Kleitos came calling late one blustery afternoon, with an offer to take them out to dine, Hanno accepted with alacrity. Too late, he remembered that Aurelia had already begun preparing the evening meal. ‘That is, if you would like to as well,’ he said to her.
Her lips pursed; she lifted her reddened hands from a bowl of muddied vegetables. ‘I’m nearly finished cleaning these.’
‘They can wait until tomorrow, surely?’ Kleitos darted to her side and kissed her palms. ‘Get yourself clean, and let someone else do the hard work. Consider it a little repayment from me to you both, for being such good company.’
Hanno threw Aurelia a meaningful glance. He’d told her often about how hard Kleitos was finding life in Akragas. At first, it had been because there were few Syracusans of the same rank left among Hippocrates’ men, and the local commanders and Himilco’s officers were quite clannish. Then the news of the massacre at Enna had reached the city. By most accounts, fewer than a hundred of its inhabitants had survived. Among them, no doubt, had been Kleitos’ lover. Kleitos had since been plunged into a spiral of impotent anger and overwhelming grief. His main way of dealing with it had been, and still was, to consume vast amounts of wine. He’d poured his heart out to Hanno during an all-nighter, but that had not alleviated his sorrow. This evening might be another chance for the poor bastard to unburden himself a little, thought Hanno.
Aurelia understood. She pretended to frown, before smiling. ‘You’ve won me over, Kleitos.’
He peered at her handiwork. ‘And saved you from the joys of preparing a somewhat mouldy cabbage and some extra-muddy carrots for the pot.’
Everyone laughed.
‘Where are you taking us?’ asked Hanno as he helped Aurelia don her heavy woollen cloak.
‘A place near the sanctuary to Demeter and Persephone, called the Ox and Plough. It’s an inn that I’ve not tried before, but its spit-roast lamb is reputed to be the best in Akragas.’
‘And the wine?’ Old habit made Hanno strap a dagger on to his belt. Kleitos was also wearing one and he’d placed a small cudgel by the door upon entering. Akragas was a friendly city, but after dark it was much the same as anywhere else. ‘Is it any good?’
‘Never fear, my friend. Its cellar is also respected.’
Hanno threw on his own cloak, a green hooded affair that he’d bought as the poor weather drew in. ‘Lead on, then!’
Aurelia wasn’t so eager. ‘Is there nowhere closer?’
‘Are you worried about kleptai?’ Kleitos enquired. He saw her blank look. ‘Thieves.’
‘Well, yes. The longer we have to walk, the more risk that we meet some, especially on the way back.’
Hanno rummaged beneath their bed and came up holding the stout staff he’d found when they had moved in. ‘I’ll take this as well. Happy?’
She nodded reluctantly.
Kleitos’ teeth flashed as he picked up his cudgel. ‘I’d like to see the kleptai who’d take me and Hanno on!’ Aurelia looked less than impressed, and he added, ‘The Lenaia festival is also being held at the moment, so you have little to fear. The kleptai are the same as the rest of us, too busy getting pissed to think about much else.’