Hannibal: Fields of Blood (35 page)

‘My thanks.’ Calavius held out his beaker.

The short man raised his own vessel. ‘A toast: to our brave leaders, that they may defeat Hannibal before too much longer.’

The third man, broad-shouldered and with a casually handsome look, sat back without doing the same. ‘Our leaders, you said. You’re not a Roman, still less a Campanian. You’re a damn Greek.’

‘That’s neither here nor there, surely. I live here, I pay my taxes,’ said the short man, looking a trifle uncomfortable.

‘You’re no citizen, though.’ The third man’s voice had a hard edge to it. ‘You’ll never be conscripted into the army. Never have to fight the guggas, like my son, or Calavius’ nephews and grandsons.’

Calavius’ brows lowered. ‘It’s as my friend says.’

‘My apologies,’ came the swift reply. ‘I meant no offence.’ He lifted his cup again. ‘May the gods guide and protect the Republic’s leaders in their quest to defeat Hannibal. May they also keep safe all the sons of Rome who fight the enemy.’

The two others were mollified by this. They all drank a toast.

However, the peace didn’t last long. When the two Romans began talking politics again, the Greek couldn’t help but throw in his opinion. The third man looked even more irritated than he had before. ‘Enough of this, Phanes. You’re here to curry favour, that’s clear, but I’m not interested in your opinions on the Roman political system. Understand?’

As Phanes fawned and grovelled, Hanno’s brain raced. The name ‘Phanes’ was familiar.

‘Why
are
you here, Phanes?’ asked Calavius. ‘It’s not just to share your wine with us.’

‘Well . . .’ The Greek licked his lips. ‘I have a number of debtors who have fallen severely behind on their payments.’

The moneylender! realised Hanno. The one with the stranglehold over Aurelia’s mother. Gripped by fury, he listened even harder.

‘That’s unsurprising. There’s a war going on, in case you hadn’t noticed,’ snapped the third man.

‘Peace,’ said Calavius. ‘You may disapprove of his profession, but he and his fellows provide a service to the city. Let him speak.’

‘Fine. I’m for the
caldarium
then.’ With a courteous nod at Calavius and a scowl at Phanes, the third man got up and walked out. A moment later, he was joined by the man who’d been dozing. Hanno snorted as if stirring, but then pretended to fall asleep again. There was a short pause before, apparently happy, the Greek spoke again.

‘I would like to approach the courts for permission to seize their properties in payment for their debts. I was wondering whether, perhaps, the judges’ decision would be made easier if they had a little
guidance
. A word or two in the right ears would ensure that my appeals were heard favourably.’

‘Are any of these people nobles whom I would know?’ asked Calavius.

An awkward cough. ‘Some, yes.’

Atia could easily be on Phanes’ list, thought Hanno, seething with anger. In his mind, the first seeds of a plan began to sprout.

‘I could not countenance that,’ said Calavius sharply. ‘In these straitened times, those who have fallen on hard times must be afforded some leeway. More time to pay.’

‘But—’

‘No, Phanes.’

A short pause.

‘I do not like to mention it, but there is the small matter of your son-in-law,’ muttered Phanes.

‘That is none of my affair,’ snapped Calavius.

‘Not quite true. How would it look if it were to come out that one of Capua’s most illustrious magistrates was father-in-law to a degenerate – a gambler who has wagered away his entire family’s wealth? A man who spends his time in the city’s lowest taverns and fleshpots? Your chances of re-election might suffer considerably in the light of that information.’

‘Curse you, Greek!’ hissed Calavius.

‘You give me no option. I am entirely within my rights to ask for a court ruling on these debts,’ protested Phanes.

‘You’re still a bloodsucking parasite!’ Calavius let out a heavy sigh. ‘What is the price for your silence about my son-in-law?’

‘As a gesture of goodwill, I will write off his debts in their entirety. Not a word shall pass my lips about him either. In return, I ask for not a drachm. As I mentioned, all I need is for the judges to approve the list of properties that I wish to have seized.’

‘I want to see the names first,’ said Calavius.

‘It will be delivered to your house by the end of the day.’

‘Then I believe that our business is done. I seem to have lost my taste for your wine.’ Without another word, Calavius rose and stalked off.

Hanno sensed Phanes’ gaze rest on him. He kept his breathing slow and regular, and after a moment he heard the Greek rise and leave the room. After an acceptable amount of time had passed, he decided to enter the caldarium himself. It was far busier than the tepidarium had been. The air was intensely warm and moist. Nearly a dozen men were relaxing in the hot pool, among them Calavius and the big noble; others were using strigils and oil to scrape the dirt from their skin or performing stretches; several were lying face down on waist-high stone benches while slaves massaged their muscles. There was no sign of Phanes, and disappointment filled Hanno. Then he heard a woman’s voice from one of the cubicles off to the side and he remembered the attendant mentioning the other services on offer. It was a gamble that the Greek was engaged in such activity, but it was better to stay where he was. If Phanes had gone through to the next room and he followed too soon, his quarry might grow suspicious. Hanno climbed into the pool, avoiding eye contact.

After so long without a bath, the hot water was unadulterated bliss. He longed to immerse himself up to his chin, but conscious of the charade with his neck cloth, he lounged against the side with his arms stretched out along the tiles. The chatter here was all about the war: about this man’s son and the unit he was serving in; how Fabius was too cowardly to fight Hannibal; what a blessing it had been when the Carthaginians had headed east once more; how the numbers of refugees were filling the city to bursting point; and so on. Hanno was too far away to eavesdrop on Calavius and the third man, and he heard no mention of Atia or Aurelia. Patience, he thought. If his plan came off, Phanes would be able to tell him where they lived. It wasn’t long before there was a friendly query from his neighbour about the strip of fabric. His explanation was accepted without question, but Hanno moved off soon after. He had no desire to enter into conversation with anyone. After he had cleaned his body with a strigil, he dried himself off and went to pick up his clothes. It was imperative that he was outside before the Greek.

The two thugs were still parked opposite the bathhouse entrance. It was the best spot for observing who entered and left and so Hanno was forced to take a seat at an open-fronted restaurant a short distance away. Picking through a plate of tasteless gruel that was being sold as ‘meat stew’, he kept a regular eye on proceedings and wondered if it would be more prudent to continue his search for Aurelia. It didn’t take long to make up his mind. At this late stage, being sensible had nothing to do with it. Just coming to Capua had been an insane notion. Now that he was here, he had a definite link to Aurelia through Phanes, which was more than he’d discover by wandering around like a fool.

When the Greek emerged, Hanno was annoyed and dismayed to see the two heavies fall in line behind him. Why did they have to be
his
bodyguards? he railed silently. His plan to interrogate Phanes was slipping away before his eyes. With a grudging nod at the stallholder, he paid for his food and sidled after the trio. It was soon apparent that the moneylender was making the rounds of some debtors. The reactions of the shopkeepers who saw him was uniform: one of surprise and dismay. Yet their attempts to avoid Phanes, or to shut their premises, all failed. His two companions were adept at jamming their feet in doorways or seizing men by the scruff of the neck and pinning them up against a wall. This was done in the most upfront of ways, without even a look as to how the passers-by might react. Any thoughts that Hanno might have had about tackling the pair disappeared. Not only were they armed with short cudgels, but they were well able to handle themselves. To have any chance of tackling Phanes, the Greek would have to leave his men behind. Morose because this did not seem likely, he dogged their footsteps for more than an hour.

By this stage, Hanno was no longer paying such close attention. On a less busy street, he had nearly caught up with the bodyguards when he noticed the Greek’s absence. Hastily, he feigned interest in the display of ironmongery outside a shop. On impulse, he bought a small but sharp knife. When he turned, the bruisers’ gaze was locked on the staircase that led up to the shrine’s entrance, which told him where Phanes had gone. Slipping the blade under his tunic and into the waistband of his undergarment, he walked right past them. There was little room to pass on the stairs. Soothsayers promised readings of the future, men were selling hens suitable for sacrifice, or votive lamps and trinkets to leave as offerings. Half an as bought Hanno a tiny clay amphora; anyone who glanced at him would assume he was another worshipper. At the top, six mighty fluted columns supported a triangular, richly decorated portico. In the centre was a painted figure of a winged woman standing with a sceptre in her hands. On either side sailors in ships reached up to her in supplication. Fortuna, he thought. The moneylender prays to Fortuna for good luck. It felt quite apt.

Great wooden doors framed the entrance to the
cella
, the long narrow room that formed the main part of the temple. A group of people clustered there around a stout, robed priest with a beard, listening as he held forth on the goddess’ intent for Capua and its citizens. There was no sign of Phanes. Hanno padded inside, wary and alert. His eyes adjusted slowly to the gloom, which was alleviated by an occasional oil lamp on a bronze stand. The chamber’s walls had been decorated with panelled murals of Fortuna: she stood with her father, Jupiter Optimus Maximus, and other deities; presided over fields of ripe wheat as the goddess Annonaria; watched chariots race at a stadium while men placed wagers. Hanno did not like the last depiction, that of Mala Fortuna, in which she stood over the entrance to Hades, watching as those who had died through bad luck filed past with miserable faces. Although she was not one of his gods, he offered her a prayer nonetheless, asking that his fortunes remain good – while he was in Capua at least.

At the far end of the room stood a low altar. Behind it was an enormous painted statue of Fortuna, her lips curved in an enigmatic smile. It was a little disquieting that her dark-rimmed eyes seemed to follow Hanno as he wove his way through the throng, but he told himself it was just his imagination. The other devotees were a mixture of men and women, young and old. Everyone needed Fortuna on their side, thought Hanno, from the crone who needed money to buy food to the man who was fond of gambling and the wife who could not conceive.

Phanes was standing near the altar, his head bowed. Hanno slipped in behind him, grateful for the loud prayers of an elderly woman nearby. He moved past the Greek to place his figurine on the altar among the other offerings, confirming with a sidelong glance that he’d found his man. Poised behind his quarry once more, his heart began to race. Whatever he did would have to be rapid and brief. It had to take place within the cella and in a manner that didn’t alarm those around them. He doubted that anyone would intervene but if the two brutes outside were alerted to what was going on, he’d be lucky to escape with his life – even though he was now armed. Steady, he thought. It will go to plan. Soon Atia will have less to worry about, and I will know where to find Aurelia. That thought was calming.

He reached under his tunic and took hold of the knife’s hilt, readying himself. When Phanes began to turn, Hanno slid forward on the balls of his feet. He grabbed the Greek’s left hand and twisted it behind his back, at the same time tickling the skin over his right kidney with the blade’s tip. With his lips against Phanes’ ear, he whispered, ‘Keep turning. If anyone looks, smile at them. Do not cry for help, or I’ll slide this iron in so deep that it comes out of your filthy chest.’

Phanes obeyed. His head twisted. ‘Who in Hades’ name are you? What do you want?’

Hanno shoved him forward a step. ‘That’s an odd question for a stinking moneylender to ask. I’d wager you have plenty of enemies. That’s why you employ those two apes outside.’

‘They’ll gut you when this is done,’ hissed Phanes. He squawked with pain as Hanno pushed the knife hard enough to draw blood.

‘Shut your mouth. Keep walking,’ ordered Hanno, smiling at an old man who was gawping. He guided the unresisting Greek over to the side of the room, where there were fewer people. By the mural of Fortuna at the games, he paused, as if to admire it. ‘Are Gaius and Atia Fabricius familiar to you?’ Phanes stiffened and his heart leaped.

‘Yes.’

‘They owe you money.’

‘A great deal,’ agreed the Greek.

‘Are their names among those that Calavius will receive later?’

Phanes’ head twisted again, this time in surprise, and Hanno poked him again with the knife. ‘Keep your eyes to the front. Answer the damn question.’

‘Yes. They’re on the list.’

‘No, they’re not!’ Hanno gave the blade a vicious little twist, and Phanes had to bite back a moan. ‘You are going to leave their names off it. If you don’t, I will hunt you down and cut you into little pieces. That’s after I’ve cut your balls off and fed them to you. The same will happen to you if you harm them or any of their family. Understand?’

‘Y-yes.’ The Greek sounded confused as well as terrified.

Hanno could see beads of sweat trickling down through Phanes’ oiled hair, which pleased him immensely. ‘Good. Do you know their daughter as well?’

‘Aurelia?’

‘Where is she?’

‘I would have thought you’d know that,’ muttered the Greek. ‘You seem aware of everything else.’

‘Tell me,’ demanded Hanno.

Phanes let out a little
phhh
of contempt. ‘I believe that she’s living with her husband, on his land, to the north of the city. They were married a short time ago.’