Quintus turned. ‘What is it?’
‘I’m not just an escaped slave. What if someone recognises me as a Carthaginian?’
Quintus’ chuckle died away as he saw Hanno’s real distress. ‘You don’t have to worry,’ he said reassuringly. ‘There are plenty of dark-skinned slaves in Capua. Greeks, Libyans, Judaeans. No one knows the difference. And apart from Gaius, no one knows what you’ve done. Nor do they care. You’re a slave, remember? Most people won’t even notice you, let alone challenge you.’ He dismounted. ‘Follow me. Look miserable and don’t catch anyone’s eye.’
‘Very well,’ said Hanno, wishing that he had the comfort of a weapon to defend himself.
To his relief, things went smoothly. The sentries didn’t even look up as he shuffled after Quintus. It was the same on the streets, which, thanks to the fast-approaching sunset, were emptying fast. People were more interested in getting home safely than studying a young noble and his slave. Housewives with baskets full of food muttered a few words with each other rather than having a full-blown gossip. Stallholders were boxing up their unsold produce and loading it on to mules. Many of the shops were already boarded up for the night.
Before long, they had reached Martialis’ house. Quintus’ loud knock was answered at once by Gaius himself, who grinned at his friend as he pulled open the gate. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’ He gave Hanno a hard glance, but did not speak.
All of Hanno’s doubts returned. He ducked his head awkwardly, telling himself that Gaius must be prepared to help. Why else were they here?
With several domestic slaves looking on, however, there was no chance of asking. One of them scurried past to take the horse’s reins, and Gaius threw an arm around Quintus’ shoulders. ‘Let’s go inside. Father can’t wait to see you. He ordered a piglet roasted in your honour.’ Gaius eyed the stable boy. ‘Make sure my friend’s slave gets fed. Find him a bed too.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Hanno’s unease abated a little when Quintus turned and gave him a wink. Hanno forced himself to relax as the gate shut, leaving him on the street. He followed the boy around the corner of the house to the stables, which were in a separate walled courtyard. The young slave proved to be as taciturn as he was ugly. They rubbed down, fed and watered Quintus’ mount in complete silence, which suited Hanno down to the ground. Next they entered Martialis’ kitchen through a door in the adjoining wall. Similar to Julius’ jurisdiction, it was a hot, busy place, filled with the clatter of pans and shouted orders. The rich smell of cooking pork filled Hanno’s nostrils and set his stomach rumbling. Keen to avoid attention, he found a quiet spot in the corridor that led to the pantry, where he sat down.
A few moments later, the stable boy appeared bearing two plates heaped high with bread, roast meat and vegetables. He shoved one at Hanno. ‘You’re in luck tonight. The piglet could feed twenty people, so the master won’t notice if his slaves also have a share.’
‘Thank you.’ Hanno seized the platter. This was a better feed than he’d had in months.
When they’d finished, the stable boy squinted at Hanno. ‘Do you play dice?’
Hanno did, but he felt as tense as the arm on a cocked catapult. So much was at stake tonight. ‘No.’
Looking vaguely disappointed, the slave shuffled off. ‘Come on. I’ll show you a place to sleep.’
Hanno was taken back to the stables, and shown a quiet corner near the door. ‘No lights can be left in here. Too great a risk of fire.’ The stable boy indicated his small oil light. ‘I’ll be taking this with me.’
‘Fine,’ replied Hanno.
With a shrug, the slave left him to it. As the flickering glow of the other’s lamp receded, Hanno was left in complete darkness. He didn’t mind about that. It was more the fact that, with Suniaton’s escape so close, he was about to spend several hours alone. After a while, he began to look forward to the occasional stamp of a hoof or a gentle whinny. The frequent noise of rats scurrying to and fro was less welcome, but it was a minor inconvenience compared to his reason for being there.
To Hanno’s annoyance, the evening dragged by more slowly than an entire week. He spent an age praying to the gods, asking for their aid in ensuring that Gaius helped to free Suniaton. Growing frustrated with the overwhelming silence that met each of his requests, Hanno tried to sleep. He had no luck at all. His spirits rose when the stable boy and two other slaves entered the building. Despite his frustration, time was passing. Pretending to be asleep, Hanno heard them clamber up the rickety ladder to the hay store over the horses’ stalls. Their incoherent mumbling led him to assume that they’d been drinking. Their oil light was extinguished almost immediately, and it wasn’t long before a cadence of snores from above filled Hanno’s ears. After what seemed an age, he felt his way over to the kitchen door, where Quintus had told him to wait.
When the door opened smoothly inwards, it caught Hanno unawares. ‘Who is it?’ he whispered nervously.
‘Pluto himself, come to carry you away,’ Quintus muttered. ‘Who do you think?’
Hanno shivered. Even mentioning the Roman god of the underworld felt like bad luck. He offered up another prayer to Eshmoun, asking for his protection.
Quintus was followed by Gaius, who was carrying a small, shuttered lantern. Both were wearing dark cloaks.
Hanno could take it no more. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘Outside.’ Gaius led them to the stable door, where he lifted the locking bar and gently laid it on the floor. A waft of cool air hit their faces as he tugged the door open. Gaius padded out and checked the street. ‘All clear!’ he hissed an instant later.
Quintus shoved Hanno out first, and pulled the portal to behind them.
‘Come on, Gaius. Are you finally going to tell us what you’ve planned?’ asked Quintus.
Hanno’s stomach clenched into a knot.
‘I will,’ muttered Gaius, ‘but your slave should know something first.’
‘He’s not a slave any more,’ Quintus hissed. ‘I freed him.’
‘You and I know that that holds about as much water as a leaky bucket.’
Quintus did not reply.
Hanno’s breath caught in his chest. Gaius was clearly cut from different cloth to Quintus. He wanted to leave, but that would mean extinguishing whatever hope there was of freeing his friend. Gritting his teeth, he waited.
‘I was stunned when you first told me what you’d done, Quintus,’ Gaius whispered. ‘I said nothing of course. You’re my oldest friend. But you took a step too far when you asked me to help free another slave. That I could not do.’
‘Gaius, I-’ Quintus began. The poor light could not conceal the embarrassment in his voice.
‘I changed my mind, however, when I found out who owned the slave you were interested in.’ Gaius paused. ‘The official who died was none other than the biggest persecutor of Oscan nobility that this city has ever seen. His shitbag of a son is little better. Stealing… freeing… one of his slaves is the least I would do to the bastard.’
Hanno let out a long sigh.
‘Thank you, Gaius,’ whispered Quintus. He wasn’t going to question his friend’s motives at a moment such as this.
At once Gaius brought them into a little huddle. ‘I started off by spending days hanging around in the street where the official’s son lives. I found out little, but I did get to know the faces of everyone who lived in his house. Then my luck changed. About a week ago, I saw the major-domo coming out of a brothel in a different part of town.’