Thudding feet on the track pushed everything from his mind. Hanno’s worries surged as the two soldiers he’d sent out came charging out of the blackness. They skidded to a halt before him. ‘Well?’ he demanded.
‘They’re coming, sir,’ said the fastest one, panting. ‘I heard a gate creak open and men moving outside. They weren’t walking in step, and had no torches.’
‘How many?’
‘If I had to guess, I’d say more than us, sir. They’re moving steadily, but not that fast.’
‘How far were you from the Roman fortifications, could you see?’
‘Not exactly, sir. Three hundred paces, maybe four?’
Hanno cupped a hand to his lips. ‘Pssst!’
The first man on the path came trotting in. ‘Sir?’
‘Tell Kleitos that he’d best hurry. We’ve got company. Potentially lots of it. Move!’
The soldier saluted and hurried off.
‘Form a line across the road,’ hissed Hanno at the rest.
Four of them were able to block the causeway, but they wouldn’t be able to hold it if the enemy came in any strength. It was as if the men with Hanno knew that. He could sense their rising fear as the moments passed without any sign of their messenger, or Kleitos. ‘Remember, brothers, that the Romans have no idea what’s been happening out here. They will be shitting themselves. We’ll let them come within a couple of hundred paces, and then I want you to start screaming, to make a racket that would wake the dead. Pretend that your throat’s being cut, or your balls cut off with a blunt knife. Lay down your spears beside you now, and draw swords. Hammer them off your shields when the time comes. Got it?’
‘Aye, sir.’ ‘Good idea, sir.’ They liked his suggestion, he could tell.
They were joined by the pair of soldiers from the path soon after. ‘The priest has to kill the last deer yet, sir,’ one explained. ‘Kleitos said they’d come when that was done.’
Clenching his jaw, Hanno settled down to wait a little longer. Perhaps eighty heartbeats had gone by when the unmistakeable sound of men moving along the causeway reached his ears. He leaned towards the man nearest him, the fastest runner. ‘Hear that?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Go and take a look. Be careful.’
Without hesitation, the soldier did as he was told.
I must find out his name, thought Hanno. He’s a brave one.
There was still no sign of Kleitos or the priest by the time that the lookout came tearing back. ‘They’re picking up speed, sir. There are thirty or forty of them, right enough.’
A half-century, Hanno decided.
‘There’s a pair of scouts a short distance in front of them too. They’re why I had to come back.’
‘How far behind you are they?’
‘A hundred and fifty paces, sir, no more.’
Hanno glanced down the path. No Kleitos. He cursed. If the enemy scouts saw them, they would alert the rest. If the Roman commander then ordered a charge, it would smash the Syracusans apart. It’d be sheer luck if any of them survived.
They would have to implement his plan on just the two men in front of the Roman patrol, and before he and his soldiers were seen. Hanno had no idea if it would cause panic among the main body of the enemy, but his options had been reduced to one. Damn it, he thought, where was Kleitos?
‘Prepare yourselves,’ he whispered. ‘I want your shouts to be heard on the bloody mainland. I’ll give you the signal by raising my right hand.’
Hanno left it until his nerves could take it no more, until he could smell his men’s sweat. He could hear the scrape of sandals off the causeway’s surface, and he fancied he could see two shapes creeping towards them. Lifting his hand, he screamed with all his might, an unintelligible roar that hurt his throat. ‘AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!’
His five men bellowed, roared and yelled beside him. They clattered their swords off their shields in a staccato rhythm, as maniac blacksmiths might beat a piece of metal.
They kept it up for only the gods knew how long.
At last, Hanno signalled them to halt. Sucking air into their chests, his men fell silent. Hanno listened. For a moment, he heard nothing. Then, the sound of sandal leather slapping off the ground at speed. Men were running — away. Exhilaration filled him, and he glanced at the fastest runner. ‘D’you hear that?’
‘Aye, sir. They must have imagined that Hades was sitting here on the road with Cerberus by his side!’
‘Good job, brothers.’ They weren’t out of danger yet, thought Hanno. What happened next depended on the mettle of the Roman officer in charge.
The arrival of Kleitos and the rest was most welcome. Hanno scanned his and the priest’s faces. ‘Did the sacrifices go well?’
‘Aye,’ replied the priest in a satisfied tone. ‘All the beasts died easily, even the boar. Their livers and intestines were unblemished, and the goddess accepted the libation of blood.’
How the priest could have seen enough to determine that the animals’ organs were free of disease, Hanno had no idea. And as for the libation — well, it was nigh-on impossible for blood not to pour out of an upturned cup. To say anything, however, would be counterproductive. The soldiers who’d witnessed the offerings seemed delighted. The news that Artemis was pleased would spread through the city like wildfire, and that had to be good.
‘The Romans sent out someone to take a look, did they?’ asked Kleitos.
‘Yes.’ Swiftly, Hanno explained what he’d done.
‘Ha! The screaming was an excellent idea. No doubt they’re running for their wall with brown sticky arses,’ said Kleitos. The soldiers guffawed. Even the priest smiled.
‘I hope so,’ answered Hanno.
‘Let’s head back. We’ve finished what we came to do.’
Kleitos’ men were still forming up when there was a shout in Latin, not a hundred paces away. ‘FORWARD!’
Everyone froze. The Romans couldn’t have entirely broken, Hanno realised in alarm. Now, they would have to fight. It was that or flee, which was as quick a path to Hades as any. Roman legionaries were lethal in the pursuit. He glanced at Kleitos. ‘We’d best make a stand, eh?’
‘I knew this might come in handy,’ muttered Kleitos, unslinging the package on his back. He pulled at the leather thongs that bound it tight.
Hanno watched, bemused, as the distinctive shape of a carnyx, a Gaulish vertical trumpet, was revealed. ‘Where in all the gods’ names did you get that?’
‘There’s an old merchant from Gaul with a premises near my barracks. Before the siege, he used to import wine from his homeland. These days, he deals in whatever’s hard to obtain in the city. I buy cheese and wine from him. This normally hangs on his wall.’
Hanno remembered Trasimene, and the fog, and how the hideous booming of hundreds of carnyxes had sent panic tearing through the Romans. Hope rose in his chest. It might do so again now. ‘Can you play it?’ he asked.
‘Let’s see. I had one go, which wasn’t to the Gaul’s liking, although it was loud enough.’ Kleitos stepped forward and raised the carnyx to his lips.
‘AT THE DOUBLE!’ roared the voice in Latin. Hobnails crunched off the surface of the road. The jingle of mail became audible. Hanno gestured urgently at his friend.
Parr-parr. Kleitos coughed a little, and replaced it against his mouth. Booooooooo. Parr-parr. Parr-parr-parr. Parr-parr-parr. Zzzeyrrp. Booooooooo.
‘Shout! Scream, as if we are a hundred men!’ hissed Hanno at the soldiers.