‘It was imperative to get the boat out into the harbour. I assumed you could both swim,’ snapped Pera.
‘Marius couldn’t, sir.’ He wanted to add, ‘If you’d also been there, we might have saved him,’ but didn’t dare.
‘Well, we’ve all heard the tale of how you saved a comrade from drowning. You would have been able to get out to the boat!’
Quintus didn’t answer. What point was there? Pera would deny every accusation, and even more so when they got back to their own kind. There, Quintus’ lowly status would render his testimony worthless. I should have left the prick to be discovered by the soldiers, he brooded. If I had, the guards at the gate wouldn’t have been suspicious of us, and Marius would still be alive. Right then and there, Quintus considered killing Pera. As before, it was the presence of another that stopped him. To ensure that he didn’t talk afterwards, Quintus would have to murder the fisherman in cold blood — and that he was not prepared to do.
‘I wonder who it was that told Epicydes of our plan?’ mused Pera.
That detail came crashing back, and again Quintus had to bite his lip. The officer in charge of the soldiers with the captive had mentioned Attalus. It couldn’t be coincidence, Quintus decided. This was no longer just about Marius’ death, and how Pera would have left them both to die. The whole damn conspiracy — Marcellus’ great plan to end the siege — had gone up in flames because Pera had not been prepared to win over one more man. Gods, but what would Marcellus do if he found that out?
Quintus eyed Pera sidelong. The centurion hadn’t heard what he had, or he wouldn’t be wondering how their efforts had come to nothing. Yet Quintus couldn’t say a word about that either, or Pera would try to murder him for the second time. A mixture of fury and frustration stung him. It would be best to keep his mouth shut entirely.
It was a bitter medicine to swallow. Even Urceus would have to be kept in the dark, in case his temper got the better of him. Quintus didn’t want another death on his conscience. Impotent rage swelled within him now. Pera would emerge from this as the courageous officer who had risked his life for Rome, only to see his efforts come to nothing through events beyond his control. Quintus would be nothing more than the hastatus who had followed orders, and Marius the soldier who had died in the line of duty.
When an old adage that Quintus’ father had been fond of came to mind, he was grateful. ‘If the time to strike an enemy isn’t right, stay your arm. Retreat if needs be. Keep your blade sharp. Keep it ready. One day, your opportunity will come.’
‘Ho, Hanno!’
Hanno turned his eyes from the magnificent view of Ortygia and the Great Harbour. He was standing on the battlements of the Euryalus fort, and had been looking south. Kleitos was hailing him, so he walked to meet his friend, who was climbing the staircase from the courtyard below. ‘What’s brought you all the way over here?’
‘The wine, of course!’ Kleitos clapped him on the shoulder; Hanno did the same back.
Kleitos’ unanticipated appearance in Syracuse a couple of weeks after his and Aurelia’s return — a consequence of Hippocrates wanting further news relayed to his brother — had been a joy to them both. Their duties kept them apart most days, but they had made up for that in the evenings, meeting up for regular drinking sessions. Kleitos rarely mentioned what had happened in Enna, but it was obvious that he appreciated Hanno’s company. With Kleitos still his only friend in Syracuse apart from Aurelia, Hanno felt the same.
‘You were taking the air and enjoying the vista, I assume?’ Kleitos gestured grandly over the rampart.
‘Yes. It’s not as spectacular as Akragas, but it’s worth a look.’
‘Aye. It was nicer there because there were no Romans in sight.’ Kleitos spat in the direction of the enemy fortifications, clearly visible beyond the marshy land that led from the walls to the River Anapos, which discharged into the Great Harbour.
‘That was part of it,’ admitted Hanno. His command when he’d first arrived in Syracuse had been on the seaward-facing defences. After the initial naval assault, it had been unusual to see the Romans at all, apart from an occasional trireme in the distance. It was a different matter here and at his new unit’s position, not far from the Hexapyla gate. Marcellus’ enclosing walls were a constant reminder that the siege continued. ‘But you didn’t come looking for me to go on the piss. It’s not late enough.’
‘You know me too well.’ Kleitos’ face grew more serious. ‘Is Aurelia about?’
‘She’s in the house. You know how it is,’ Hanno replied, registering the first traces of alarm. Since her encounter with Pox Face in Akragas, she had stayed indoors as much as possible during daylight hours. It was hard on her, but they both agreed it was better than another guard recognising her from her time in the palace. Remaining incognito was another reason that they were living here, far from the centre of Syracuse. Hanno hadn’t mentioned it to a soul, but he had also picked out Euryalus because of the network of tunnels that ran beneath it. Their main purpose was to allow defenders to appear from unexpected points and fall upon any attackers who made it within the strongly defended gates. But there was one — kept secret from all except senior officers — that ran under the walls for three stadia, emerging in a little defile. If the city ever fell, Hanno wanted a way out. Escape might be possible by sea, yet it was always best to have more than one plan. ‘I hope you haven’t come about her?’
‘No, no. There’s no reason to be concerned for Aurelia.’ He saw Hanno’s frown. ‘Nor about yourself.’
‘That’s good. You know that I’m as loyal as anyone, but with all the denunciations, well … How many men have been executed now?’
‘There was a real plot to turn the city over to the Romans, my friend. The spies killed a number of soldiers during their escape, and they were seen sailing off from the fishermen’s jetty close to Ortygia.’
‘I know.’ Hanno had heard the tale of the three Romans who had tricked and fought their way past the sentries and stolen a boat. Two of them had managed to get completely away, somehow avoiding the artillery barrage. Brave men, he thought. ‘So many of them confessed when they were arrested that Attalus must have been telling the truth. I’ve heard rumours, however, that some of the men who were seized were guilty of nothing more than being an enemy of his. I’ve had few dealings with him, but those that I’ve had have been unpleasant. He’s a little rat of a man. We’re fortunate that the conspirators didn’t include him in their plot. If they had, Attalus would have had no cause to feel left out, and I’d wager that he would have happily joined them. By now, the city would be in Roman hands.’
‘I won’t argue with you about that,’ said Kleitos. ‘But Attalus wouldn’t be stupid enough to accuse you. Hannibal sent you, for a start!’
For the first time in an age, Hanno thought of Hostus, one of his father’s enemies in Carthage. ‘Believe it or not, some of my people would sell us out to the Romans.’
‘Maybe so, but you’re not one of them. In fact, your loyalty is why I’m here.’ He winked as Hanno’s interest grew clear. ‘A little bird told me that you’re to be ordered to the palace in the morning. Epicydes is sending an envoy to Philip of Macedon, and he wants to talk to you about it before the messenger leaves.’
Surprise filled Hanno. Hannibal will want to hear about this, he thought. ‘Really?’
‘Maybe it’s because that prick Hippocrates isn’t here. He’s the more dominant brother, but Epicydes has a cooler head on his shoulders.’
‘He does,’ replied Hanno. Epicydes hadn’t mistreated him since his return, but nor had he asked anything of him but the most ordinary duties. ‘It’s excellent news that he’s asking Philip for help. Once Hannibal secures a port, the Macedonians could land in Italy — as well as my people, obviously.’