that he’s second-in-command of a phalanx, half of which was on patrol. The commander was one of the cavalrymen. He’s lying over there, missing half of his head. I can’t make out any more of what he says.’
‘What do you want me to ask him, sir?’
‘The purpose of their patrol. Are there more of their forces in the area? Start with that.’
Quintus regarded Kleitos. ‘Do you speak any Latin?’
‘A few words, that’s all.’ This with a disdainful shrug. ‘Decent Syracusans don’t have much use for your tongue. Why would we?’ He jerked his chin at the captives taken by Quintus and Urceus, many of whom had already been slain. ‘You’re fucking savages.’
‘As if your soldiers aren’t capable of the same,’ Quintus replied, unmoved. ‘I’m surprised by your lack of interest in Latin. Hiero was a faithful ally to the Republic for half a century.’
Another scornful look. ‘He was a damn tyrant! Not everyone supported him, you know. There are plenty of nobles who are happy to see power now resting in the hands of Hippocrates and Epicydes.’
‘I see.’ Quickly, Quintus translated for Corax before regarding Kleitos again. ‘What were you doing here?’
‘Taking the air. Around Mount Etna, it’s meant to be especially good for the health.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Quintus, his temper flaring. ‘We’ll get the information from you, the easy way or the hard. Those men being executed are only the start. Trust me, you don’t want to piss off my centurion.’
Kleitos looked a little less certain, but then his chin jutted again. ‘Why would I tell you anything? You’ll kill me anyway.’
‘Are there more Syracusan troops in the area?’
Kleitos stared balefully at him.
‘What’s going on?’ demanded Corax.
‘He thinks that we’re going to get rid of him when we’re done, sir,’ replied Quintus. In an undertone, he added, ‘Are we?’
‘That depends,’ rumbled Corax. ‘If the dog tells me something worth knowing, I could release him. If he doesn’t, well—’
Quintus felt uneasy at the idea of pushing his centurion, but he didn’t want to lead Kleitos on under false pretences. ‘Have I your word on that, sir?’
‘You’ve got some balls, boy.’ Corax’s gimlet eyes pinned Quintus, but he didn’t back down. After what seemed a long time, the centurion nodded. ‘As long as his information is useful, he can go free. Tell the sewer rat that I’ll be watching him, though. If I suspect the slightest treachery, the smallest lie, I will cut his damn throat myself.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Quintus turned to Kleitos. ‘Tell us what you know. If it’s of use to us, my centurion guarantees that you will be set free.’
‘How can I trust you?’
‘You have his word, and mine,’ said Quintus. There was silence for a moment. He could see Kleitos was warring with himself. ‘There’s no glory in dying just because your men have to,’ he urged.
‘What would you know?’
‘I was at Cannae,’ replied Quintus soberly. ‘You must have heard of the slaughter that day. By the time the sun was going down, there was barely a Roman alive. Those of us still living had given up hope, but not my centurion. He led us out, and we fought our way to safety. Our reward for that was to be sent in disgrace to Sicily. For all that, I’d rather be here, breathing, than for my bleached bones to be lying in the mud in Italy.’
Kleitos threw him a look of grudging respect. ‘Very well. We were sent out to scout the area; to see if there were any Roman forces moving south yet. Hippocrates and Epicydes know that Marcellus will advance on the city; they want to know when.’
Quintus explained to Corax, who said in poor Greek, ‘That sounds reasonable. Go on.’
‘Are there more of your troops nearby?’ demanded Quintus.
‘Nowhere close.’
This pleased Corax. ‘What is the current strength of the garrison in Syracuse?’
Quintus translated.
Kleitos scowled; then, oddly, he
‘What do you want me to ask him, sir?’
‘The purpose of their patrol. Are there more of their forces in the area? Start with that.’
Quintus regarded Kleitos. ‘Do you speak any Latin?’
‘A few words, that’s all.’ This with a disdainful shrug. ‘Decent Syracusans don’t have much use for your tongue. Why would we?’ He jerked his chin at the captives taken by Quintus and Urceus, many of whom had already been slain. ‘You’re fucking savages.’
‘As if your soldiers aren’t capable of the same,’ Quintus replied, unmoved. ‘I’m surprised by your lack of interest in Latin. Hiero was a faithful ally to the Republic for half a century.’
Another scornful look. ‘He was a damn tyrant! Not everyone supported him, you know. There are plenty of nobles who are happy to see power now resting in the hands of Hippocrates and Epicydes.’
‘I see.’ Quickly, Quintus translated for Corax before regarding Kleitos again. ‘What were you doing here?’
‘Taking the air. Around Mount Etna, it’s meant to be especially good for the health.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Quintus, his temper flaring. ‘We’ll get the information from you, the easy way or the hard. Those men being executed are only the start. Trust me, you don’t want to piss off my centurion.’
Kleitos looked a little less certain, but then his chin jutted again. ‘Why would I tell you anything? You’ll kill me anyway.’
‘Are there more Syracusan troops in the area?’
Kleitos stared balefully at him.
‘What’s going on?’ demanded Corax.
‘He thinks that we’re going to get rid of him when we’re done, sir,’ replied Quintus. In an undertone, he added, ‘Are we?’
‘That depends,’ rumbled Corax. ‘If the dog tells me something worth knowing, I could release him. If he doesn’t, well—’
Quintus felt uneasy at the idea of pushing his centurion, but he didn’t want to lead Kleitos on under false pretences. ‘Have I your word on that, sir?’
‘You’ve got some balls, boy.’ Corax’s gimlet eyes pinned Quintus, but he didn’t back down. After what seemed a long time, the centurion nodded. ‘As long as his information is useful, he can go free. Tell the sewer rat that I’ll be watching him, though. If I suspect the slightest treachery, the smallest lie, I will cut his damn throat myself.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Quintus turned to Kleitos. ‘Tell us what you know. If it’s of use to us, my centurion guarantees that you will be set free.’
‘How can I trust you?’
‘You have his word, and mine,’ said Quintus. There was silence for a moment. He could see Kleitos was warring with himself. ‘There’s no glory in dying just because your men have to,’ he urged.
‘What would you know?’
‘I was at Cannae,’ replied Quintus soberly. ‘You must have heard of the slaughter that day. By the time the sun was going down, there was barely a Roman alive. Those of us still living had given up hope, but not my centurion. He led us out, and we fought our way to safety. Our reward for that was to be sent in disgrace to Sicily. For all that, I’d rather be here, breathing, than for my bleached bones to be lying in the mud in Italy.’
Kleitos threw him a look of grudging respect. ‘Very well. We were sent out to scout the area; to see if there were any Roman forces moving south yet. Hippocrates and Epicydes know that Marcellus will advance on the city; they want to know when.’
Quintus explained to Corax, who said in poor Greek, ‘That sounds reasonable. Go on.’
‘Are there more of your troops nearby?’ demanded Quintus.
‘Nowhere close.’
This pleased Corax. ‘What is the current strength of the garrison in Syracuse?’
Quintus translated.
Kleitos scowled; then, oddly, he
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