Read Online Hannibal: Fields of Blood by Ben Kane - Free Book Online
Authors: Ben Kane
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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the way from Capua. Don’t you want to see him?’
Aurelia’s head snapped around. Gaius Martialis was Quintus’ oldest and closest friend; she had known him since she was tiny. He was steady, brave and funny, and she had a lot of time for him. Yet at their last meeting, a few weeks previously, he’d brought news that had rocked her world. Hundreds of Romans had been lost in the cavalry clash against Hannibal at the Ticinus; there had been no word of her father and Quintus, or of Flaccus, the high-ranking noble to whom she had been betrothed. She and her mother had lived in painful uncertainty since. Since hearing of the subsequent and unexpected defeat at the Trebia – the Senate had called it a ‘setback’, but everyone knew that for a lie – their anguish had known no bounds. In all likelihood, at least one of the three men had died, probably more. How could they have survived when more than twenty thousand others had not? Aurelia felt sick at the thought of it, but something in her mother’s voice gave her hope.
It didn’t sound strained or unhappy. Maybe Gaius’ visit was not ominous. A flicker of hope lit in her heart. It would be good to have some normal social interaction. Lately, she had had nothing but fractious exchanges with her mother, or frosty silences when she came across Agesandros. There was time for a swift, silent prayer, asking that those she loved be granted protection, especially her father, Quintus and Hanno. At the last moment, Aurelia added Flaccus, and then she turned and ran back down the path.
She found Atia and Gaius in the courtyard that lay adjacent to the main house, a cobbled affair that was bordered by storerooms, a hay barn, grain and wine stores, and slave quarters. In the warmer months, it was the busiest place on the farm. During the winter, it became a route between the buildings, which housed livestock, tools and a wide variety of preserved foodstuffs from fish to hams and herbs. Tracks crisscrossed the once-white snow in dizzying patterns. They had been made by men and women’s sandals, children’s bare feet, dogs, cats, poultry, horses and mules. Aurelia walked with care, avoiding the regular piles of manure. It was time to have the yard swept again, she thought absently.
‘At last you grace us with your presence. Where have you been?’ demanded Atia.
Elation filled Aurelia. Gaius couldn’t be the harbinger of bad news today – not when her mother greeted her in that way.
Gaius gave her a broad grin.
Aurelia bobbed her head in reply. Was she imagining it, or had he looked her up and down for the first time? Suddenly self-conscious, she tossed back her thick black hair and wished that she wasn’t wearing her everyday wool dress and old cloak. ‘I was walking. I came as soon as I heard you call.’
Her mother’s eyebrows rose in evident disbelief, but she did not push further.
‘It is good to see you again, Aurelia.’ Gaius inclined his head.
‘And you, Gaius.’ She gave him a demure smile.
‘You’re becoming quite the young woman.’ Again the fleeting appraisal. ‘You’ll be fifteen before long, won’t you?’
‘In the autumn, yes.’ She fought the instant blush that warmed her cheeks, and failed. ‘You bring no bad news, I hope?’
‘None, I am happy to say.’ He turned to Atia. ‘Have you had any word of Fabricius, or Quintus?’
‘No. Nothing regarding Flaccus either. I spend enough time on my knees in the lararium to mean that no news is good news.’ Atia’s tone was brittle, and brooked no argument.
‘Your husband and Quintus are ever in my prayers, and in those of my father,’ said Gaius quickly. ‘So too is Flaccus. The day that they all return will be one of great celebration.’
‘It will,’ declared Atia.
An awkward silence fell.
Aurelia felt guilty that she hadn’t been praying for Flaccus as much as her father and brother. I only met him once, she thought defensively.
‘You’ll stay for the night?’ asked
Aurelia’s head snapped around. Gaius Martialis was Quintus’ oldest and closest friend; she had known him since she was tiny. He was steady, brave and funny, and she had a lot of time for him. Yet at their last meeting, a few weeks previously, he’d brought news that had rocked her world. Hundreds of Romans had been lost in the cavalry clash against Hannibal at the Ticinus; there had been no word of her father and Quintus, or of Flaccus, the high-ranking noble to whom she had been betrothed. She and her mother had lived in painful uncertainty since. Since hearing of the subsequent and unexpected defeat at the Trebia – the Senate had called it a ‘setback’, but everyone knew that for a lie – their anguish had known no bounds. In all likelihood, at least one of the three men had died, probably more. How could they have survived when more than twenty thousand others had not? Aurelia felt sick at the thought of it, but something in her mother’s voice gave her hope.
It didn’t sound strained or unhappy. Maybe Gaius’ visit was not ominous. A flicker of hope lit in her heart. It would be good to have some normal social interaction. Lately, she had had nothing but fractious exchanges with her mother, or frosty silences when she came across Agesandros. There was time for a swift, silent prayer, asking that those she loved be granted protection, especially her father, Quintus and Hanno. At the last moment, Aurelia added Flaccus, and then she turned and ran back down the path.
She found Atia and Gaius in the courtyard that lay adjacent to the main house, a cobbled affair that was bordered by storerooms, a hay barn, grain and wine stores, and slave quarters. In the warmer months, it was the busiest place on the farm. During the winter, it became a route between the buildings, which housed livestock, tools and a wide variety of preserved foodstuffs from fish to hams and herbs. Tracks crisscrossed the once-white snow in dizzying patterns. They had been made by men and women’s sandals, children’s bare feet, dogs, cats, poultry, horses and mules. Aurelia walked with care, avoiding the regular piles of manure. It was time to have the yard swept again, she thought absently.
‘At last you grace us with your presence. Where have you been?’ demanded Atia.
Elation filled Aurelia. Gaius couldn’t be the harbinger of bad news today – not when her mother greeted her in that way.
Gaius gave her a broad grin.
Aurelia bobbed her head in reply. Was she imagining it, or had he looked her up and down for the first time? Suddenly self-conscious, she tossed back her thick black hair and wished that she wasn’t wearing her everyday wool dress and old cloak. ‘I was walking. I came as soon as I heard you call.’
Her mother’s eyebrows rose in evident disbelief, but she did not push further.
‘It is good to see you again, Aurelia.’ Gaius inclined his head.
‘And you, Gaius.’ She gave him a demure smile.
‘You’re becoming quite the young woman.’ Again the fleeting appraisal. ‘You’ll be fifteen before long, won’t you?’
‘In the autumn, yes.’ She fought the instant blush that warmed her cheeks, and failed. ‘You bring no bad news, I hope?’
‘None, I am happy to say.’ He turned to Atia. ‘Have you had any word of Fabricius, or Quintus?’
‘No. Nothing regarding Flaccus either. I spend enough time on my knees in the lararium to mean that no news is good news.’ Atia’s tone was brittle, and brooked no argument.
‘Your husband and Quintus are ever in my prayers, and in those of my father,’ said Gaius quickly. ‘So too is Flaccus. The day that they all return will be one of great celebration.’
‘It will,’ declared Atia.
An awkward silence fell.
Aurelia felt guilty that she hadn’t been praying for Flaccus as much as her father and brother. I only met him once, she thought defensively.
‘You’ll stay for the night?’ asked
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