Hanno was about to give a low whistle, when something stopped him. Instead, he trotted back towards the two Romans.
Quintus grew excited as he saw Hanno approach. ‘Seen something?’
‘The sheep up there are penned in,’ said Hanno. ‘A bit soon, isn’t it?’
Quintus raised a hand to his eyes. ‘By Jupiter, you’re right,’ he admitted, annoyed that he hadn’t noticed first. ‘Libo is the shepherd around here. He’s a good man, not one to avoid work.’
Hanno’s stomach clenched.
‘I’m not happy.’ Quintus took off his pack and emptied it on the ground. He unrolled the cloak. Carefully shoving one gladius into his belt, he handed the other to Aurelia, who had caught up with them. ‘You probably won’t need it,’ he said with a falsely confident smile. Bending the stave with his knee, Quintus slipped his bowstring into place. There were ten arrows in his quiver. Plenty, he thought.
‘What’s wrong?’ Aurelia demanded.
‘Probably nothing,’ replied Quintus reassuringly. ‘I’m just going to take Hanno and check out that hut.’
Fear flared in Aurelia’s eyes, but when she spoke, her voice was steady. ‘What shall I do?’
‘Remain here,’ Quintus ordered. ‘Stay hidden. Under no circumstances are you to follow us. Is that clear?’
She nodded. ‘How long should I wait?’
‘A quarter of an hour, no more. If we haven’t reappeared by then, return to the farm as fast as you can. Find Agesandros, and tell him to bring plenty of men. Well armed.’
At this, Aurelia’s composure cracked. ‘Don’t go up there,’ she whispered. ‘Let’s just fetch Agesandros together.’
Quintus thought for a moment. ‘Libo could be in danger. I have to check,’ he declared. He patted Aurelia’s arm. ‘Everything will be fine, you’ll see.’
Aurelia saw that her brother was not to be swayed. She took a step towards Hanno, but stopped herself. ‘Mars protect you both,’ she whispered, hating the way her voice trembled.
And Baal Saphon, thought Hanno, invoking the Carthaginian god of war.
Leaving Aurelia peering from behind a large pine, the two young men began to ascend. Quintus was surprised by the imperceptible change that had already taken place in their relationship. Although they could see no human activity above, both were instinctively using the few bushes present for cover. As soldiers would. Don’t be stupid. He’s a slave. ‘It’s bandits,’ Quintus muttered to himself. ‘What else can it be?’
‘That’s what it would be in the countryside around Carthage,’ replied Hanno.
Quintus cursed. ‘I wonder how many there are?’
Hanno shrugged uneasily, wishing he had a weapon. It wasn’t surprising that Quintus had given the other gladius to Aurelia, but it grated on him nonetheless. ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’
Quintus’ lips had gone very dry. ‘What if there are too many for me to take on?’
‘We try not to shit ourselves, and then crawl out of there on our bellies,’ Hanno answered dryly. ‘Before going to get help.’
‘That sounds like a good plan.’ Despite himself, Quintus grinned.
The rest of the climb was made in silence. The last point of cover before the shepherd’s hut was a stunted cypress tree, and they reached it without difficulty. Recovering their breath, each took turns to peer at the pens and the miserable structure alongside, which was little more than a leanto. His lips moving silently, Quintus counted the sheep. ‘I make it more than fifty,’ he whispered. ‘That’s Libo’s entire flock.’
Be logical, thought Hanno. ‘Maybe he’s ill?’
‘I doubt it,’ Quintus replied. ‘Libo is as hard as nails. He’s lived in the mountains all his life.’
‘Let’s wait a moment then,’ Hanno advised. ‘No point rushing into a situation without assessing it first.’
Hanno’s observation made Quintus bridle. Slaves do not advise their masters, he told himself angrily. Yet the Carthaginian’s words were wise. Biting his lip, he drew a goose-feathered arrow from his quiver. It was his favourite, and he’d killed with it many times. Never a man, he thought with a rush of fear. Taking a deep breath, Quintus exhaled slowly. It might not come to that. Nonetheless, he picked out three more shafts and stabbed them into the earth by his feet. Suddenly, an awful thought struck him. If there were bandits about, and he was outnumbered, his bow was the only advantage he had. That might not be enough. Quintus was prepared for the potential danger he’d placed himself in, but he hadn’t really considered his sister. He turned to Hanno. ‘If anything happens to me, you’re to run down and get Aurelia the hell out of here. Do you understand?’
It was too late to say that Quintus should have given him a sword, thought Hanno angrily. It would have been two of them against however many bandits might be in the hut. He nodded. ‘Of course.’
It wasn’t long before there was movement inside the building, which was perhaps twenty paces away. A man coughed, and cleared his throat in the manner of someone who has just woken. Quintus stiffened, listening hard. Hanno did likewise. Then they heard the rickety door on the far side of the hut being thrown open. A short figure wearing a sheepskin waistcoat over a homespun tunic stepped into view. Stretching and yawning, he pulled down his breeches and began to relieve himself. Glancing sunlight lit up the yellow arc of his urine.
Quintus cursed under his breath.
Despite the other’s reaction, Hanno had to ask. ‘Is that the shepherd?’ he whispered.
Quintus’ lips framed the word ‘No.’ Carefully, he fitted his favourite arrow to his bowstring and drew a bead on the stranger.
‘Could it be another shepherd?’
‘I don’t recognise him.’ Quintus drew back until the goose feathers at the base of the arrow nearly touched his ear.
‘Wait!’ Hanno hissed. ‘You have to be sure.’
Quintus was again angered by Hanno’s tone. Nonetheless, he did not release: he too had no desire to kill an innocent man.
‘Caecilius? Where are you?’ demanded a voice from inside the hut.
The pair froze.
With a final shake, the man pulled up his trousers. ‘Out here,’ he replied lazily. ‘Taking a piss on the shepherd. Making sure he’s still dead.’
There was a loud guffaw. ‘Not much chance of the whoreson being anything else after what you did to him.’
‘You can’t talk, Balbus,’ added a third voice. ‘He screamed the most when you were using the red hot poker.’
Quintus threw Hanno a horrified glance.
Balbus laughed, a deep, unpleasant sound. ‘What do you think, Pollio?’ There was no immediate answer, and they heard Balbus kicking someone. ‘Wake up, you drunken sot.’
‘The point of my boot up his arse should do the trick,’ Caecilius bellowed, heading for the door.
Desperately, Hanno turned his head to tell Quintus to loose before it was too late. He barely had time to register the arrow as it flashed past his eyes and shot through the air to plant itself in the middle of Caecilius’ chest. With a stunned look, the bandit dropped to his knees before toppling sideways to the dirt. He made a few soft choking sounds and lay still.
‘Well done,’ whispered Hanno. ‘Three left.’
‘At least.’ Quintus did not think about what he had done. He notched another shaft and waited. The layout of the hut was such that if the remaining bandits merely looked out of the doorway, they would see Caecilius’ body without exposing themselves to his arrows. Jupiter, Greatest and Best, he begged silently, let the next scumbag come right outside.