‘Trust me, those men would bury a sword in your belly as soon as look at you. They are the enemy,’ growled Hannibal. ‘If you meet either again, you will kill them.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Hanno said, finally giving in. But never let it happen.
‘Understand too that if any of you disobey my orders again, I will not be merciful. Instead, expect to end your miserable lives screaming on a cross. Understand?’
‘Yes, sir,’ replied Hanno, shaking.
‘You’re dismissed,’ said Hannibal curtly. ‘All of you.’
Muttering their thanks, Zamar and the three brothers withdrew.
Sapho sidled up to Hanno outside. ‘Still think you did the right thing?’ he hissed.
‘Eh?’ Hanno gave his brother an incredulous look.
‘We could all be dead now, thanks to you.’
‘But we’re not! And it’s not as if such a thing will ever happen again, is it?’ demanded Hanno.
‘I suppose not,’ Sapho admitted, taken aback by Hanno’s fury.
‘I’m as loyal as you or any man in the damn army,’ Hanno snarled. ‘Line me up some Romans, and I’ll chop off all their fucking heads!’
‘All right, all right,’ muttered Sapho. ‘You’ve made your point.’
‘So have you,’ retorted Hanno angrily. ‘Did you want us to be punished in there?’
Sapho made an apologetic gesture. ‘Look, I had no idea he might crucify you.’
‘Would you have said anything to Hannibal if you had?’ challenged Bostar.
A guilty look stole across Sapho’s face. ‘No.’
‘You’re a fucking liar,’ said Bostar. Without another word, he walked off.
Hanno glared at Sapho. ‘Well?’
‘Do you really think I’d want the two of you to die? Please!’ Sapho protested. ‘Have some faith in me!’
Hanno sighed. ‘I do. I’m sorry.’
‘So am I,’ said Sapho, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Let’s forget about it, eh? Concentrate on fighting the Romans.’
‘Yes.’ Hanno glanced after Bostar, and his heart sank. His other brother looked angered by the friendly gesture Sapho had just made. Gods above, he thought in frustration, can I not get on with the two of them?
It appeared not.
Saturnalia was fast approaching. Despite Atia and Aurelia’s melancholy, preparations for the midwinter festival were well under way. It was a way, Aurelia realised, of coping with the void both of them felt inside at her father’s probable death, and the lack of word from Quintus. Life had to go on in some fashion, and losing themselves in mundane tasks had proved to be an effective method of maintaining normality. There was so much to be done that the short winter days flashed by in a blur. Atia’s list of things to do seemed never-ending. Each evening, Aurelia was worn out, and grateful that her exhaustion meant deep slumber without any bad dreams.
One night, however, Aurelia did not fall asleep as usual. Her mind was racing. She and her mother were going to Capua in two days on a final shopping expedition. Dozens of candles were still required as gifts for their family friends and the guests. Not all of the food for their impending feasts had been ordered yet — there had been a mix-up with the baker over what was needed, and the butcher wanted far too much money for his meat. Atia also wanted to purchase pottery figurines; these were exchanged on the last day of the celebrations.
Despite her best efforts, Aurelia found herself thinking about Suniaton. After meeting Agesandros, she and Elira had made their way to the hut without any difficulty. Pleasingly, Suni’s leg had healed enough for him to leave. He’s long gone, thought Aurelia sadly. Suniaton had been her last link with Hanno, and in a strange way, Quintus and her father. It was entirely possible that she would never see any of them again. On the spur of the moment, she decided to visit the isolated dwelling one more time. What for, Aurelia wasn’t sure. Perhaps the gods would offer her some kind of sign there. Something that would make her grief more bearable. Keeping this idea to the forefront of her mind, she managed to fall asleep.
Waking early the next morning, Aurelia dressed in her warmest clothes. She was relieved to find only a finger’s depth of snow covering the statues and mosaic floor in the courtyard. Pausing to tell a sleepy Elira where she was going, and to raise the alarm if she was not back by nightfall, Aurelia went to the stables and readied her father’s grey horse.
She had never ridden so far from the farm in the depths of winter before, and was stunned by the beauty of the silent countryside. It was such a contrast to the spring and summer, when everything was bursting with life. Most of the trees had lost their leaves, scattering them in thick layers upon the ground, layers that were now frozen beneath a light covering of snow. The only movement was the occasional flash of wildlife: a pair of crows tumbling through the air in pursuit of a falcon, the suggestion of a deer in the distance. Once, Aurelia thought she saw a jackal skulking off into the undergrowth. Gratifyingly, she heard no wolves, and saw no sign of their spoor. Although it was rare for the large predators to attack humans, it was not unheard of. The chances of seeing them grew as she climbed, however, and Aurelia was grateful that she had taken a bow as well as her sling.
Her anticipation grew as she neared the hut. Its peaceful atmosphere would assuage her worries about her loved ones. With a growing sense of excitement, Aurelia tied up her horse outside. She scattered a handful of oats on the ground to keep it happy, and stepped towards the door. A faint sound from inside stopped her dead. Terror paralysed Aurelia’s every muscle as she remembered the bandits whom Quintus and Hanno had fought. What had she been thinking to travel alone?
Turning on her heel, Aurelia tiptoed away from the hut. If she made it onto her saddle blanket, there was a good chance of escaping. Few men possessed the skill with a bow to bring down a rider on a galloping horse. She had almost reached her mount when it looked up from its oats, and gave her a pleased whinny. Frantically stroking its head to silence it, Aurelia listened. All she could hear was her heart pounding in her chest like that of a captured beast. Taking a good grip of the horse’s mane, she prepared to scramble on to its back.
‘Hello?’
Aurelia nearly jumped out of her skin with fright.
A moment passed. The door did not open.
Aurelia managed to calm herself. The voice had been weak and quavering, and certainly not that of a strong, healthy man. Gradually, her curiosity began to equal her fear. ‘Who’s there? I’m not alone.’
There was no response.
Aurelia began to wonder if it was a trap after all. She vacillated, torn between riding to safety and checking that whoever was inside did not need help. At length, she decided not to flee. If this was an ambush, it was the worst-laid one she could think of. Gripping her dagger to give her confidence, she padded towards the hut. There was no handle or latch, just a gap in the timbers to pull open the portal. With trembling fingers, Aurelia flipped the door towards her, placing her foot against the bottom edge to hold it ajar. She peered cautiously into the dim interior. Instead of the fire she might have expected, the round stone fireplace was full of ashes. Aurelia gagged as the acrid smell of human urine and faeces wafted outside.
Finally, she made out a figure lying sprawled on the floor. She had taken it first for a bundle of rags. When it moved, she screamed. ‘S-Suni?’
His eyes opened wide. ‘Is that you, Aurelia?’
‘Yes, it is.’ She darted inside and dropped to her knees by his side. ‘Oh, Suniaton!’ She struggled not to weep.
‘Have you any water?’
‘Better than that: I have wine!’ Aurelia ran outside, returning with her supplies. Gently, she helped him to sit up and drink a few mouthfuls.
‘That’s better,’ Suniaton declared. A tinge of colour began to appear in his cheeks, and he cast greedy eyes at Aurelia’s bag.
Delighted by his revival, she laid out some bread and cheese. ‘Eat a little at a time,’ she warned. ‘Your stomach won’t be able to take any more.’ She sat and watched him as he devoured the food. ‘Why didn’t you leave after my last visit?’