Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

‘Not going in to tell your version of the story first.’

‘I might disagree with what you did, but I’m not a telltale,’ Sapho shot back in an angry whisper.

‘I know,’ said Hanno. ‘Let’s just see what Hannibal says, eh? After that, we can forget about it.’

‘No more talking about me behind my back,’ Sapho warned.

‘It’s not as if Bostar said much. He commented that after the pirates’ capture, you had changed.’

‘Changed?’

‘Grown tougher. Harder.’

‘Nothing else?’ Sapho demanded.

‘No.’ What in Tanit’s name happened between you two? Hanno wondered. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Sapho was silent for a moment. ‘Very well. We’ll put it behind us after we’ve reported to Hannibal. But understand this: if he asks me my opinion about the release of the two Romans, I’m not going to lie to him.’

‘That’s fine,’ said Hanno heatedly. ‘I wouldn’t want you to.’

Their conversation came to an abrupt halt as they entered the main part of Hannibal’s tent.

The general greeted them with a broad smile. ‘Word of your success has already reached me,’ he declared. He raised his glass. ‘Come, taste this wine. For a Roman vintage, it’s quite palatable.’

When they all had a glass in hand, Hannibal looked at them each in turn. ‘Well?’ he enquired. ‘Who’s going to tell me what happened?’

Hanno stepped forward. ‘I will, sir,’ he said, swallowing.

Hannibal’s eyebrows rose, but he indicated that Hanno should continue.

Shoving away his nervousness, Hanno described their march to the Trebia, and the long wait in the hidden clearing. When he got to the point where the Roman patrol had crossed, he turned to Zamar. The Numidian related how his men had carried word to him of the enemy incursion, and of how the ambush had been sprung early by an overeager section leader. ‘I’ve already stripped him to the ranks, sir,’ he said. ‘Thanks to him, the whole thing might have been a disaster.’

‘But it wasn’t, thankfully,’ Hannibal replied. ‘Did any make it to the river?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Zamar. ‘Eight.’

Hannibal winked. ‘That didn’t leave much work for nine hundred spearmen!’

They all laughed.

‘Did you find any documents on the Roman commander?’

Hanno didn’t know how to answer. ‘No, sir,’ he muttered. From the corner of his eye, he could see Sapho glaring at him.

Hannibal didn’t notice Hanno’s reticence. ‘A shame. Still, never mind. It’s unlikely that they would carry anything of importance on such a mission anyway.’

Hanno coughed awkwardly. ‘I didn’t manage to search him, sir.’

‘Why not?’ asked Hannibal, frowning.

‘Because I let him go, sir. Along with one other.’

The general’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘You had best explain yourself, son of Malchus. Fast.’

Hannibal’s intense stare was unnerving. ‘Yes, sir.’ Hanno hastily began. When he had finished, there was a pregnant silence. Hanno thought he was going to be sick.

Hannibal eyed Sapho and Bostar askance. ‘Presumably, he consulted with you two,’ he snapped.

‘Yes, sir,’ they mumbled.

‘What was your reaction, Bostar?’

‘Although it was against your orders, sir, I respected his reason for wanting to let the two men go.’

Hannibal looked at Sapho.

‘I violently disagreed, sir, but I was overruled.’

Hannibal regarded Zamar. ‘And you?’

‘I had nothing to do with it, sir,’ the Numidian replied neutrally. ‘I was a hundred paces away with my men.’

‘Interesting,’ said Hannibal to Hanno. ‘One brother supported you, one did not.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Is this what I am to expect in future when I issue a command?’ demanded Hannibal, his nostrils flaring.

‘No, sir,’ protested Bostar and Hanno. ‘Of course not,’ Hanno added.

Hannibal didn’t comment further. ‘Do I detect that there was quite an amount of disagreement?’

Hanno flushed. ‘You do, sir.’

‘Why was that?’

‘Because we were given orders to let none survive, sir!’ cried Sapho.

‘Finally, we come back to the nub of the issue,’ said Hannibal. In the background, Sapho smiled triumphantly. ‘Under ordinary circumstances, this situation would be black and white. And if you’d disobeyed my orders as you have done, I would have had you crucified.’

His words hung in the air like a bad smell.

Fear twisted Sapho’s face. ‘Sir, I…’ he began.

‘Did I ask you to speak?’ Hannibal snapped.

‘No, sir.’

‘Then keep your mouth shut!’

Humbled, Sapho obeyed.

Hanno wiped his brow, which was covered in sweat. I still did the right thing, he thought. I owed Quintus my life. Sure that, at the very least, a severe punishment was about to follow, he resigned himself to his fate. Beside him, Bostar was clenching and unclenching his jaw.

‘Yet what transpired happens but once in a host of lifetimes,’ said Hannibal.

Stunned, Hanno waited to hear what his general said next.

‘A man can’t go killing those who have helped him, even if they are Roman. I cannot think of a better way to anger the gods.’ Hannibal gave Hanno a grim nod. ‘You did the right thing.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ whispered Hanno. He’d never been so relieved in his life.

‘I will let you off, Bostar, because of the unique nature of what happened.’

Bostar stood rigidly to attention and saluted. ‘Thank you, sir!’