‘So what?’ demanded Quintus. ‘That’s hardly unusual.’
Gaius’ teeth flashed white in the darkness. ‘Except when I went inside and asked who he’d been fucking, the madam went all coy. I slipped her a few coins, and she soon changed her tune. It seems that the major-domo has a taste for young boys.’
‘Filthy bastard,’ muttered Quintus.
An image of Hostus popped into Hanno’s mind. His father’s enemy was known for a similar taste in flesh. ‘It’s disgusting, but is it a crime?’ he asked. ‘It’s not in Carthage, unfortunately.’
‘The practice is frowned upon by many, but it isn’t against the law for citizens, like us,’ Gaius replied. ‘Slaves are a different matter, however. I doubt that the official’s son would be too pleased to find out about his major-domo’s habits. The madam said that he tends to get overexcited. Violent. She’s had to intervene a number of times to stop her boys from being badly injured.’
‘Fucking animal,’ said Quintus, looking revolted.
Hanno was just grateful that he and Suniaton hadn’t been sold to a similar fate. ‘So you’re blackmailing him?’
‘Basically, yes,’ Gaius answered. ‘He’s agreed to drug the slave who guards the door, which will give him a chance to let Suniaton out. Of course the poor bastard doorman will probably end up on a cross for letting another slave escape, but the major-domo doesn’t care about that. He’s only thinking of his own skin.’
‘And if he doesn’t play along?’ enquired Quintus. His words made Hanno’s stomach clench.
‘His owner will receive an anonymous letter detailing his sordid activities to the letter, and giving the brothel’s address should he wish to corroborate the details.’
‘Excellent,’ murmured Quintus.
For a moment, Hanno’s delight at Gaius’ plan was soured by the knowledge that an innocent slave would suffer, or even die, so that Suni might be free. He quelled the thought without remorse. He would kill to save his friend. How was this any different? ‘It sounds foolproof,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’m not doing it for you,’ Gaius replied curtly. ‘I’m doing it because it gives me an opportunity to get back at the official’s son.’ He chuckled at the others’ confusion. ‘By sunset tomorrow, everyone in the town will have heard the rumour that he likes to screw young boys. Not the best way to start a political career, is it?’ He looked at Gaius, who gave a resigned shrug. ‘Best get moving now, though. Stay close.’
Telling himself that it didn’t matter what Gaius’ reasons for helping were, Hanno followed the two Romans through the darkened streets. The only living thing that they encountered was a scrawny dog, which raised its hackles and growled at the interlopers to its territory. It darted, yelping, out of the way when Gaius aimed a hefty kick at it, and it wasn’t long before they were crouched by the front door of a nondescript house, three shadows that could barely be seen. Apart from the chinks of light that escaped the wooden shutters of a flat on the opposite side of the lane, it was pitch black.
Checking the street yet again, Gaius rapped lightly on the door with his knuckles. There was no response from within, and Hanno began to panic. He glanced at the myriad of stars that lit the night sky. Eshmoun, he begged, do not forget Suniaton, your devoted follower, and son of your priest in Carthage. Great Tanit, have mercy.
His prayers were answered a moment later when, with a faint creak, the door opened inwards. ‘Who is it?’
‘Gaius.’
A short man emerged cautiously on to the street. Seeing Quintus and Hanno, he stiffened. Gaius was quick to jump in with the reassurance that they were friends, and the figure relaxed a fraction. His receding hair, long nose, and darting eyes made him resemble a rat, thought Hanno distastefully. It was no surprise that he fucked little boys. Yet this was the major-domo of the house, who was also about to set Suniaton free.
‘Well, where’s the Carthaginian?’ demanded Gaius.
‘Just inside. I’ll get him,’ the major-domo replied, bobbing his head. ‘And you’ll say nothing to my master?’
‘I give you my word,’ Gaius answered dryly.
The other nodded uneasily, knowing that this was all he’d get. ‘Very well.’
He scuttled from view, and Hanno felt a tinge of suspicion at his speed. There was a short delay before he heard the sound of shuffling feet. Then Hanno saw a stooped figure framed in the doorway, and he leaped forward. ‘Suniaton?’
‘Hanno?’ croaked the other.
Throwing his arms around Suniaton, Hanno clung to his friend like a drowning man. He was dimly aware of the door shutting and a bolt sliding across to lock it. Hanno didn’t care. Hot tears of joy scalded his cheeks; he felt moisture soak into his tunic as Suniaton wept too. For a moment, they just stood there, each revelling in the fact that the other was still alive. Abruptly, Suniaton’s knees gave way beneath him. Hanno had to stop him from falling. He studied Suniaton’s face. Gone was the round-faced young man he was familiar with. In his place stood a gaunt-cheeked, unshaven wretch with long hair. ‘You’re half starved,’ Hanno cried.
‘It’s not that,’ replied Suniaton. His eyes were deep pools of pain. ‘I’m hurt.’
Suddenly, Hanno understood the reason for Suniaton’s hunched posture. ‘How badly?’
‘I’ll live.’ Despite his brave words, Suniaton grimaced. ‘I got beaten in a fight two days ago. I’ve got several wounds, but the worst is a slash across the top of my right thigh.’
Gaius thumped on the door. ‘Treacherous bastard! You said nothing about this.’
To his surprise, the major-domo replied. ‘I was told only to bring him out at the appointed hour. No one said anything about whether he was well or not.’
‘You whoreson!’ hissed Hanno. ‘I should cut your balls off.’ He leaned his shoulder against the timbers and heaved.
Quintus intervened. ‘It’s not safe here.’ He moved to stand by Suniaton. ‘You take one arm, and I’ll take the other,’ he said to Hanno.
Hanno nodded. There was no point wasting time. The major-domo could take his own chances now. Only the gods knew whether the drugging of the doorman would fool his master. It mattered not at all. They had to get Suniaton back to Gaius’ house, where they could examine his wounds.
Fortunately, Suniaton was proved to be right about his injuries. Although he was in considerable pain, the clean sword cuts were not life-threatening. As far as Hanno could tell, they had been stitched reasonably well. Yet the worst wound concerned him greatly. The biggest muscle in Suniaton’s right thigh had nearly been severed. There was nothing they could do about it, and so they prepared to leave. They had to get to safety before dawn. Bidding farewell to Gaius, the pair heaved Suniaton up on to Quintus’ mount. Having bribed a sentry, they passed out of the town with relative ease. The horse’s movement caused Suniaton so much pain, however, that he soon passed out. Hanno could do nothing but support his friend as he walked alongside. He would ask Quintus to get some papaverum from Elira later. For now, he thanked Tanit and Eshmoun, and asked for their continued blessing. Hopefully, Suniaton just needed time. Hanno was desperate to head for Iberia, but he would not leave his friend behind now.
The war would have to wait.
Bostar eyed the figures on the other side of the Rhodanus. Although the deep, fast-flowing water was more than five hundred paces across at this point, the Volcae camp was easy to make out between the trees that dotted the far bank. There were scores of tents and lines of tethered horses, denoting the presence of hundreds of warriors. Sentries patrolled the water-line day and night. Given that the tribesmen normally lived on both sides of the river, their intent could not be more plain. They would pay dearly for their combative stance, thought Bostar. Hannibal had given him his orders not an hour since. Once he’d made an offering to the gods, it was time to go. His phalanx and the three hundred scutarii the general had insisted he also take were already assembled beyond the Libyans’ tent lines. Their destination, an island at a narrow point in the river, was a day’s march to the north.