‘Aye. I recognise this square.’ Hanno didn’t know what else to say. It was likely that he and Kleitos would never meet again. Their eyes met, reflected the same intense feeling. ‘Farewell.’ Breaking the gaze, he ducked off into an alleyway to his left.
He lost all sense of time during the journey that followed. Sometimes he walked, sometimes ran. He shoved and pushed, squeezed through narrow gaps that left scrapes on his bronze armour. It wasn’t long before he had to stop and throw up. Sadly, it did not relieve his nausea, and made his headache far worse. On another occasion, he would have felt sorry for himself. Now he ignored it, and soldiered on. He crawled on his hands and knees to get past a wagon that was blocking a narrow street. A short while after, frustrated by a neighbourhood that was entirely at a standstill, he pounded up the stairs of an apartment block and clambered on to its roof. The view he was afforded sent cold sweat slicking down his back. Thick plumes of black smoke were rising from every part of Epipolae. There was no mistaking the sound of screams either, or the ring of arms. The Romans had not been contained, nor could they be any longer. Cursing, he turned away.
The red clay tiles of the roof made treacherous footing. More than once, he came close to falling. The short distance between buildings proved an advantage, however, allowing him to jump from one to the next. In this fashion, he made it around the area of blocked streets. When the time came to climb down from his lofty position, Hanno gave an elderly woman the shock of her life by dropping on to the landing outside her open door. He smiled and raised his open hands to show that he meant her no harm, and clattered down the stairs. There was no point saying anything to the crone. It was safer for her to remain where she was than to risk the insanity on the streets. He found it far harder to ignore the pleas of the attractive young mother with two children, who begged him to help her reach safety. ‘I can’t, I’m sorry,’ said Hanno without looking at her. ‘Take us with you, then,’ she pleaded. ‘I can see you’re a good man. We’ll be no trouble, I swear it.’ With guilt tearing at him, and the hammers of hell beating at his temples, he muttered an excuse and left her sobbing in his wake.
Thankfully, the crowds and the panic eased a little as Hanno drew further away from the centre of the city. People were still flocking towards Achradina and Tyche, but there was room to move on the streets. This development accentuated his worries rather than easing them. What if Aurelia had already left their rooms? There would be no hope of finding her. He broke into a sprint, covering the last five stadia in less time than it had taken him to travel the first one. At the house, he had to take a moment to dry retch and wipe away the sweat that coated his entire face. Gods, but he wished that he hadn’t drunk so much the night before.
It was with a wave of relief that he heard her moving within as he pounded on the door with a balled fist. ‘Aurelia! It’s Hanno.’
There was a heartbeat’s pause. ‘Hanno?’
‘Yes. I’m here.’
The bolt slid back. She opened the door and regarded him, red-eyed, before throwing herself into his arms. ‘Oh, Hanno! I’ve been so scared. The screaming on the street has been terrifying. People are saying that the legionaries will kill us all.’
‘That won’t happen,’ he lied.
‘I knew you would come.’
Thank the gods she didn’t know how nearly he had not, he thought guiltily, holding her tight. At least they were together. What he wouldn’t have given, though, for Mutt and his Libyans to be at his side as well.
Chapter XXIV
A couple of hours after their search for Pera had begun, Quintus had been forced to accede that the gods had had no intention of helping them. Their quest had been hampered by the utter chaos that reigned in the city. It had been fine at first, all the way back to the Galeagra, where they had hoped he might still be. There had been no sign of Pera, however, nor of anyone in his unit. The hastati who were holding the position by that stage didn’t even know his name. ‘Forget about your commanding officer,’ one had advised, assuming that that was whom Pera was. ‘He’ll find you later. Until then, do what you want!’ The soldier’s comrades had laughed cruelly, and Quintus’ mind had filled with dark images of Enna.
By now, the garrison had been roused from its slumbers, yet there was no organised resistance. Small groups of enemy soldiers appeared here and there, but it was clear that most were too drunk or incapacitated to fight, or had stumbled outside without fully arming themselves. Their officers were missing, or they were intimidated by the number of legionaries swarming through the city. Again and again, Quintus saw a single charge put the enemy to flight. Every time that happened, the panic spread even faster. It didn’t help the defenders’ cause that hundreds, even thousands of terrified civilians were trying to flee the carnage. Quintus grew used to seeing Syracusan troops cutting down unarmed residents in an effort to escape.
They had to halt their search for a time when an optio in charge of half a century of principes ordered them to help clear a wide thoroughfare of enemy forces. When that was done, it was easy enough to slip away again into the mayhem. Odd images stuck in Quintus’ mind as they sought Pera. In a market square, they found legionaries gorging themselves on the wine that they’d taken from a warehouse. Some were already drunk, and were bathing in the central fountain, naked apart from their baldrics and sheathed swords. They saw hens running hither and thither in an alleyway, trying to escape the clutches of a pair of laughing velites. With their arms full of fresh loaves and pastries, legionaries trampled uncaring over the gutted body of a baker. Five horses, mounts for the enemy cavalry, galloped wildly down a street, sending Romans and Syracusans alike diving for cover.
Most of what Quintus saw was far worse, however, and the horror was impossible to ignore. In the middle of one lane was the corpse of a child — a boy, a girl, Quintus couldn’t tell — without a head. In another, an old man sprawled over the body of a woman of the same age, attempting even in death to protect her. Both had been stabbed so many times that their garments were saturated with blood. A pregnant woman tried to give birth where she lay, her grievous wounds ensuring that she would die before her labour ever ended. A tiny baby in swaddling clothes mewled its distress from the arms of its dead mother. The air reverberated with shouted orders, war cries and the clash of arms. Mixed with these were screams of fear and shrill voices calling on gods and goddesses, asking for their help, their intervention — anything to stop the slaughter — or seeking family members lost in the confusion. Another sound was also constant: the terrible screeches of women who were being raped. Quintus blocked it out as best he could.
At some stage in the morning, the noise of fighting grew deafening. It didn’t take long for the friends to find out why. Epicydes had sallied forth from Ortygia with his forces. All Roman soldiers were to advance to the edge of Epipolae, there to put themselves at the disposal of the officers present.
It was Urceus who called a halt to their search. ‘Face it, Crespo. We’re never going to find him. There hasn’t been hide nor hair of the cocksucker. I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s time to find Corax and our brothers. If we don’t, some whoreson of an officer is going to accuse us of shirking our duty. We’ve pushed our luck too often on that score.’
Quintus scowled. Much as he didn’t want to admit it, his friend was right. ‘Very well.’
It wasn’t difficult to know which way to go. Every Roman soldier in sight was heading south, or southeast. Officers chivvied them along with encouraging shouts, but the streets were so full that the pace was slow. The two friends had little option but to trudge along with the multitude, and after a while, Quintus grew sick of it. Spotting an alley that ran at right angles to the thoroughfare that they were on, he nudged Urceus. ‘Let’s try that. What have we to lose? We can always retrace our steps, or cut down on to another street that might be less crowded.’