A nod. ‘Show me the spear.’
Hanno held it out with both hands. ‘It’s for thrusting. You could use it for fishing, or maybe hunting deer.’
Sentius’ eyes studied the spear greedily. ‘Give it to me. Butt first.’
Ignoring Sapho’s hiss of dismay, Hanno waded to the side of the boat and handed it over. He wasn’t remotely surprised when Sentius whirled it around and aimed the tip at his face. All the same, he couldn’t stop his stomach from clenching with nerves.
‘I could kill you now.’ The spear jabbed forward. ‘Your friend wouldn’t be able to do a thing. I’d be gone before he ever got close to me.’
‘True,’ said Hanno, forcing himself to stay where he was, forcing himself to think of Hannibal’s reaction when he returned with a guide. ‘But if you did, you wouldn’t get the arrows you want.’
‘I want two hundred at least.’
‘Fine.’
‘And a dozen spears,’ added Sentius quickly.
‘If you can lead my general’s army out of this place, you’ll have them, I guarantee.’
A short pause.
Sentius had not agreed yet, which bothered Hanno. ‘Is there anything else you want?’
‘They say that great beasts accompany your soldiers. Creatures taller than a hut, with long noses and long white teeth. They can crush men underfoot like beetles.’
‘Elephants,’ said Hanno.
‘El-e-phants,’ Sentius repeated, his voice full of awe.
Joy filled Hanno. This was what would finally win the boy over. He knew it in his gut. ‘That’s right. Sadly, we only have one left. Would you like to see him, up close? His name is Sura.’
A dubious glance. ‘Is it not dangerous?’
‘Only when his rider orders him to attack. Otherwise, he is quite gentle.’
‘You can show me the el-e-phant?’
‘I can do better than that. You can even feed Sura if you wish. He especially likes fruit.’
Sentius looked amazed.
‘Have we a bargain?’ Hanno shoved out his right hand.
Sentius didn’t take it. ‘You will stay with me?’
‘I won’t leave your side the whole time you are with us,’ Hanno promised. ‘May the gods strike me down if I prove false.’
Sentius’ eyes flashed. ‘I will strike you down. With your own spear!’
Hanno pulled open his tunic, exposing his chest. ‘You can drive it in right here.’
At last Sentius seemed satisfied. He stuck out a grubby paw. ‘It’s a deal.’
Hanno smiled as they shook hands. Sentius hadn’t guided them to dry ground yet, but he would. Their suffering would soon be at an end. The price of ten score arrows, a dozen spears and a chance to feed Sura was cheaper than Hanno could have imagined. Surely, neither Sapho nor Hannibal could fail to be impressed.
‘Did you hear about the ox that escaped from the Forum Boarium the other day?’ asked Calatinus. It was evening, and they had finished their duties. Their comrades had gone in search of some wine, leaving the two friends alone in the tent.
‘No. They get out of the pens all the time. A slave forgets to push home the bolt and the gate opens,’ said Quintus dismissively. ‘I’ve seen it happen in Capua.’
‘It doesn’t matter how the beast got out. It’s what it did afterwards. For some reason, it ran up a set of stairs on the outside of a three-storey cenacula.’
Quintus sat up on his blankets. ‘What?’
‘You heard,’ said Calatinus, pleased that he had Quintus’ attention at last.
‘Who told you?’
‘A lad I know in another troop was talking to one of the messengers from Rome who arrived yesterday. Apparently, the crazy brute went all the way to the top of the building! The residents were terrified, and their screams sent it even madder. It jumped over the bannisters and fell to the street, where it crushed a child to death.’
‘Gods,’ muttered Quintus, picturing the gory scene.
‘I wouldn’t mind if that’s all that had happened,’ Calatinus went on gloomily, ‘but it’s just one of a litany of things. A shrine in the vegetable market was struck by lightning the same day. Among the thunderclouds overhead, men saw the ghostly shapes of ships. A damn crow even flew down to the temple of Juno and perched on the sacred couch.’
‘Did the messenger see any of these things?’ demanded Quintus, thinking of how his father rubbished such tales. ‘Or was it someone’s aunt’s cousin who did?’
Calatinus gave him a withering look. ‘So many people witnessed the ox throw itself off the balcony that it cannot be anything but true. The messenger saw the lightning bolt strike the temple with his own eyes, and the ships in the sky.’
Quintus didn’t like that, but he wasn’t going to admit it. ‘And the crow?’
‘He didn’t see that,’ Calatinus admitted.
‘Well, then. Even if it did land on the couch, it was probably just sheltering from the rain.’
Calatinus half smiled. ‘Maybe so. You know I wouldn’t pay these things much notice, but they’re happening all over. It rained rocks in Picenum a little while back.’
‘Come on! Rocks?’
It was as if Calatinus hadn’t heard him. ‘The priests at Hercules’ spring saw flecks of blood in the water last week. That can mean but one thing.’
Despite himself, Quintus felt uneasy. People were superstitious — they would easily assume divine hands directing the most ordinary events, but priests were less gullible. They knew whether the gods were involved or not, at least that was what most believed. His father was a little more cynical; Quintus remembered the comments Fabricius had made about the priests after his son had killed a bear to celebrate reaching manhood, and again before the Trebia, when ominous signs had occurred thick and fast. It had been easier then to dismiss the stories as mere rumours, thought Quintus unhappily. But the defeat by Hannibal had almost been a fulfilment of the bad omens. If they were recurring aplenty, did that not mean the gods were still unhappy? That the Carthaginians were about to win another victory? Stop it! ‘I’d wager that Gaius Flaminius doesn’t worry too much about such nonsense,’ he said as confidently as he could.
Calatinus risked a glance outside. ‘That’s as may be. But what new consul leaves Rome before he’s been officially elected to office?’
‘He was just doing that to piss off the Senate. Flaminius has a grudge against many of the senators because of the way they treated him six years ago over his triumph celebrating his victory over the Insubres.’
‘Who cares?’ cried Calatinus. ‘This is no time to risk angering the gods. And that’s what he surely did by leaving the capital before the proper ceremonies have been carried out.’
Quintus didn’t reply. He felt the same way. If that had been the only thing that Flaminius had done, it wouldn’t have felt so bad. Ignoring the Senate’s demands that he return to Rome wasn’t the end of the world, but Quintus had not liked hearing the story of the calf chosen to be sacrificed when Flaminius arrived at Arretium. To everyone’s horror, it had slipped out of the priest’s grasp after just one, non-fatal strike of the knife. Even when it had been recaptured, no one had had the courage to kill it. The second calf chosen had died without protest, but the whole experience had left a bad taste in men’s mouths.
‘No doubt that’s why his horse threw him when we were about to move out the other day,’ said Calatinus. ‘And why that standard stuck in the ground.’
‘I think that telling the signifer to dig up the damn standard if he was too weak to pull it out was the right thing to say,’ said Quintus, forcibly rallying his spirits. ‘Flaminius is a brave man and a good leader. The soldiers love him. It’s not as if we’re sitting around on our hands. We’re trailing Hannibal until the right opportunity presents itself. We’re lucky that we were posted to Flaminius’ cavalry. Imagine still being stuck in Ariminum. Surely you’d rather be following a general who wants to fight?’
‘Gnaeus Servilius Geminus is no coward!’ barked a familiar voice.