Angry murmurs, mention of reparations and territories lost.
‘The Romans have never been vanquished as they were here, though, sir,’ said Sapho.
‘True,’ admitted Hannibal. ‘And therefore my hope and expectation is that they will sue for peace. With that in mind, Carthalo’ — here he pointed to one of his senior cavalry officers — ‘will tomorrow lead an embassy to Rome, there to deliver terms to the Senate.’
This might work. ‘What terms, sir?’ asked Hanno.
‘Rome will recognise the honour and power of Carthage. It will return to us Sicily, Sardinia and Corsica, and acknowledge our pre-eminence in the seas west of those islands. If the Republic does not accept these terms, then, as the gods are my witness, it will see enough death and destruction visited upon its citizens to make the battle here look like a skirmish. This, while the non-Roman peoples who come over to us shall live under our protection.’
Maharbal shook his head, but many officers exchanged pleased looks. ‘Those demands are reasonable enough,’ said Bostar. ‘Rome will see that, surely?’
They had been releasing captured non-Romans for a good while, but Hanno hadn’t fully appreciated Hannibal’s purpose before. ‘You want to break up the Republic, sir?’
‘I do. It isn’t that long since peoples such as the Samnites, Oscans and Bruttians were conquered or came under Roman influence. I want them to seize their liberty with both hands. Allied to Carthage, they will be free to determine their own futures. Few of you will know, but there have already been approaches from leaders of cities such as Capua about severing their links with Rome.’
That went down well with the officers.
Sapho looked disappointed, but Hanno didn’t notice. Defeating Rome was what he had always craved, but he had another reason for wanting the war to be over. Quintus’ sister, Aurelia, had flashed into his mind. If the fighting ended, he would be able to seek her out. A burning hope lit in Hanno’s heart. Let Rome see that it is beaten, he prayed. Let there be peace.
‘Would it not be better, sir, to be more aggressive? Why not let me ride ahead with our cavalry?’ asked Maharbal, his expression eager. ‘The dogs will only hear of our approach after we have arrived. I could deliver your message with thousands of horsemen at my back. You and the rest of the army can follow on behind. If the Romans have not agreed to the terms by then, your appearance would make up their minds.’
‘I agree, sir,’ said Sapho. ‘We should march on Rome.’
‘Should?’ Hannibal studied Sapho for a moment, and his lips thinned. Sapho met his stare at first, but he couldn’t keep it up. Hannibal’s face softened as he cast his gaze at Maharbal. ‘My mind is made up. Carthalo and his companions will carry my words to Rome. The troops need rest, and so do your riders. I am going to give it to them.’
‘Truly the gods do not grant everything to the same man,’ said Maharbal sombrely. ‘You know how to win a victory, Hannibal, but you do not how to use one.’
PART ONE
Chapter I
Two and a half years later …
Apulia, late winter
It was a fresh morning. A light, cool breeze carried in from the east, where the sea lay, one hundred stadia away. The worst of the winter weather had gone, for which Hanno was grateful. Over the previous few months, the temperatures had not often been harsh, but he still missed the warmth of Carthage, his home. The sun’s heat on his face, and signs that the plants were beginning to grow again, would be welcome.
As usual, he found Muttumbaal among the Libyans of his phalanx. If his second-in-command wasn’t sleeping, he was with their men. They were his entire world, for he had neither wife nor family, and he was assiduous in their care. No one had ever called Mutt by his full cumbersome name, except perhaps his mother, thought Hanno wryly. To the world, his dour subordinate was just known as Mutt. He was a damn fine officer, and had covered for Hanno on innumerable occasions. Saved his life more than once too.
Mutt was drilling the men on the open ground beyond the camp perimeter. It was a habit that Hanno continued to find amusing. They were some of Hannibal’s most hard-bitten veterans, who knew their craft inside out. Career soldiers, they had travelled from Carthage to Iberia, from there to Gaul, over the Alps and into Italy. They had fought — and won — more battles for Hannibal than anyone could remember. Yet that didn’t stop Mutt from insisting on regular drill and marching sessions. ‘Let them sit on their arses for too long, sir, and they’ll get rusty,’ he’d said when Hanno had questioned the tactic. Over time, Hanno had had to admit that Mutt’s reasoning was sound, given the existence that they had all lived since Cannae. There was still occasional fighting, but much of their routine was to stay in camp. Yes, there were marches to defend a pro-Carthaginian town or city from a Roman army that was threatening it, but their fearsome reputation meant that this tactic usually made the legions withdraw without a fight. Large swathes of southern Italy were now on their side, which meant that combat had become less common. Frustratingly, that didn’t mean that the war had been won. Far from it, Hanno thought bitterly. Plenty of Rome’s allies remained loyal, even when their territory was surrounded by those friendly with Carthage.
Capua was allied to Hannibal, but nearby towns were not. He pictured Quintus’ sister Aurelia, how she’d been when he had last seen her near Capua, and his heart squeezed. There had been no chance to find her since, and there probably never would be. He swallowed down his feelings. It was as well, for she would have forgotten him by now.
Spotting a dust-covered rider urging his horse towards the camp, his mood soured a little more. ‘Who’ll be begging for help this time?’ he said to no one in particular.
Mutt heard him, and wandered over. ‘It’ll be the same old story, sir. “A Roman army is at our gates. We need your assistance. Come with all haste.”’
Hanno laughed, before saying something that he would admit to few others. ‘Sometimes it seems as if Cannae wasn’t enough. If only their new legions would take us on. We’d kick their arses.’
Mutt hawked and spat. ‘I’d be surprised if they’re that stupid again, sir.’
Mutt was right, thought Hanno angrily. Since Cannae, their enemies had recruited and trained more than ten new legions. They operated in consular-sized forces of two legions throughout the peninsula — substantial enough to be militarily potent without losing the ability to be manoeuvrable and fast-moving — concentrating on the defeat of cities and peoples who had deserted the Republic.
‘Cannae taught them a real lesson, sir.’
‘They’re scheming dogs.’ Hanno knew all too well how it worked. If Hannibal tried to face these legions, or to draw them into pursuit, they backed away or retreated into the mountains where the huge Carthaginian superiority in cavalry was negated. Not for the first time, Hanno remembered Maharbal’s warning just after Cannae. Had their general made the wrong decision when he decided not to march on Rome? Hanno wasn’t sure, nor would he mention it to a soul other than Mutt or Bostar. As well as feeling disloyal by discussing it, no one really knew the answer. It was impossible to predict what might have happened. Obsessing about the past did nobody any good, he decided. They had to deal with the present. ‘We’re hardly doing badly. Hannibal is undefeated; at no time since Cannae has it looked any other way.’
‘’Scuse me, sir.’ Mutt had noticed something untoward. He strode towards the men, shouting orders.
Hanno fell back to brooding. In Iberia, the situation was not as good as it had been. A number of Carthaginian defeats had seen many tribes changing sides to support Rome. Happily, Sicily was another story. There Carthage had new, powerful supporters. Hippocrates and Epicydes, two Syracusan nobles who had fought with Hannibal, and been subsequently sent by him to the island to foment unrest, had of recent days seized control of the great fortress of Syracuse. This advance — upsetting the city’s fifty-year status as an ally of Rome — increased the likelihood of further help from Carthage on the island. Hanno prayed that the Syracusan and Carthaginian troops on Sicily would be victorious. That outcome would see Hannibal receive reinforcements, which would be warmly received.