Kane Ben: Hannibal: The Patrol

By the time that they had nearly reached the Gauls’ village, Mutt had decided that if Devorix was planning to murder them, he was doing an admirable job of concealing it. The chieftain had talked all the way, impatiently waiting each time Aios translated his words. If Devorix was to be believed, he was merely waiting until the Carthaginian army reached the area before lending his support to Hannibal.

As yet, they had not mounted an open attack on Roman troops from Victumulae, Aios had reported, because their settlement lay too close to the town. ‘When word came of what had happened at the Trebia, another clan of our tribe massacred a Roman patrol. A few legionaries got away, however, brought back word of what had happened,’ Aios had said. ‘A day later, the commander of the forces inside Victumulae sent out five hundred soldiers. They razed the village to the ground. Killed everyone, even the livestock and the dogs. Bastards!’

At that point, Devorix had launched into a long and bitter tirade, prompting Aios to explain that his sister, married to the chief of the clan, had been among the dead.

Hanno and Mutt had exchanged a look then that needed no words. This was surely proof that these warriors were on their side.

The trees died away eventually and were replaced by empty, roughly tilled fields. Small groups of raucous crows threw themselves into the air from the frozen, furrowed earth as the party approached the village. Two small, snot-nosed boys gawped from their positions at the rear of a flock of sheep; a scrawny dog raised its hackles and barked a shrill welcome. The settlement was a typical, circular stockaded affair, reached by an even muddier offshoot of the trail that they’d been following. Trails of smoke rose over the rampart from the many fires within. Voices — those of men, women and children — competed with each other. Mutt could hear cattle lowing, and the sound of metal being hammered.

A pang of homesickness hit him. He hadn’t seen his home in Libya for many years, but the everyday sounds here were no different to the seaside hamlet where he’d grown up. His father had died when Mutt was a small child, but could his mother still be alive there? He asked the gods that it were so. No doubt his brother, who’d stood to inherit their little farm, was still working the land. His sisters would be married women, with families of their own. Mutt felt a little sad; he liked children. Would the chance to settle down with a wife and set about making some ever come his way? he wondered.

‘You can set up your tents here,’ said Aios, indicating the ground to each side of the gate. He had stayed behind while Devorix and the rest of his companions continued on into the village. ‘The dead can be buried on the other side of the stockade, where our people are laid to rest.’

‘Thank you,’ said Hanno. ‘Mutt?’

Mutt pulled himself together. ‘Yes, sir. We’ll put the tents in this spot, as Aios says. And then dig graves for the dead lads around the far side.’ He nodded his thanks to Aios.

‘I would ask that you place your latrine trenches in the trees yonder.’ Aios pointed at a thicket about two hundred paces away.

‘Of course,’ replied Mutt. Everyone knew that shitting too close to home was an invitation for diseases such as dysentery.

Aios inclined his head. ‘The preparations for the celebrations will take a few hours, but there is a tavern of sorts in the village. Your men are welcome to drink there until it’s time for the feasting to begin.’

Mutt was reassured when Hanno immediately replied, ‘I’m grateful for the offer, but it’s still early. There could be Romans about.’

A derisive snort. ‘There isn’t a scumbag legionary within five miles. Our scouts tell us any time a boar as much as farts around here.’

Mutt had to smile at that, but was pleased that Hanno maintained his position. ‘It’s good to know that you have ears and eyes throughout the area,’ said Hanno. ‘Nonetheless, I’ll keep my soldiers on a tight leash. Until later.’

‘I understand,’ said Aios with a laugh and a wink. ‘I’ll ask the druid to attend your injured. If you need anything else, the tavern is where you’ll find me. I look forward to sharing a drink with you.’ He strode off.

Mutt spent a short while directing the men to set up camp. By the time he’d finished, all the Gauls had gone. ‘What do you reckon, sir? Can we trust them?’

‘I think so. You?’

Mutt pursed his lips, recalling everything that Devorix and Aios had said. ‘I’d say they’re all right, sir. Gauls are renowned for being simple folk. Brave as you like; quick to anger; slow to forgive. Excepting the Vocontii and the Cenomani who had recently changed sides, they’re not known for their treachery. You can generally take them as you find them.’

‘Aye, that’s what I have heard too,’ said Hanno. ‘Devorix seems decent enough, and I like Aios.’ He cast a curious look at Mutt. ‘Who are the Vocontii?’

‘The motherless curs who led us astray in the Alps, sir. Hundreds of our men were killed in their ambush.’ Mutt could still hear the screams of the soldiers who had fallen to their deaths or who’d had limbs crushed by the falling rocks. ‘We paid them back in kind, though, your brother Sapho especially.’ A flash of emotion — anger? — flashed across Hanno’s face, but it was gone before Mutt could make sense of it.

‘Nonetheless, I want the camp prepared as normal. Build a defensive ditch outside it, and a rampart as tall as a man,’ ordered Hanno. ‘When that’s been done, half the phalanx can be allowed into the village. They can have the evening off. The rest are to remain in camp, with triple the normal number of sentries. If there is any treachery, we won’t be caught completely off guard.’

This command wouldn’t be popular, thought Mutt. He’d take Bogu as extra muscle when delivering it. ‘How shall I pick those who stay and those who go, sir?’

‘Choosing them by lot is the fairest way, I suppose. To sweeten the medicine, tell them that I will make sure that plenty of the food comes their way. There’ll be wine too — just not in the same volume that the others will be swilling down.’

‘Very good, sir.’

Mutt’s respect for Hanno grew a little further. It was shrewd not to deny half of his men the pleasure that their luckier comrades would enjoy that evening. It would have been nice to join in the revelries, but Hanno would want him to keep an eye on things while he went and got drunk. It was one of the privileges of being a commander, he thought.

‘You can go in this evening, after I’ve got back.’

Surprise filled him. ‘Sir?’

‘Devorix will expect to see me at the start, naturally. I’ll stay for an hour or two, then make my excuses. You can go once I return.’

Mutt felt an unaccustomed grin breaking out. ‘You’re sure, sir?’

‘I wouldn’t say so if I didn’t mean it, Mutt.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ He threw off a crisp salute. ‘I’d best get a move on, then. The camp won’t build itself.’

Mutt could feel Hanno’s eyes on him as he walked off. The boy’s clever, he thought. It seemed that Hanno had learned his lessons from his father, Malchus well. The gods grant that he leads us for the rest of this war, Mutt prayed. Good commanders were even scarcer than Libyan spearmen, and to be treasured.

He waited until the earthen perimeter had been thrown up before telling the men of the night’s arrangements. If he’d done so beforehand, the unlucky ones would have still been digging come nightfall. With the defences in place and the tents up, however, there was a natural window in the day’s duties. It was when his soldiers were normally left to themselves. Assembling them briefly, Mutt told them how it was going to be. To his relief, there was less complaining than he’d expected.