Kane Ben - Hannibal - The Patrol

Inevitably, the cry started up. The soldiers all around joined in at once. ‘HANN-I-BAL! HANN-I-BAL! HANN-I-BAL!’

Mutt smiled. This was going to be a good night, he could feel it in his bones.

A hand on his shoulder. ‘Can I join you?’

Mutt turned, recognised Aios. ‘Of course!’ He nudged the man to his right. ‘Move over.’

Aios squeezed himself into the tiny space, taking care not to spill his own drink. ‘Your soldiers are enjoying themselves, it seems.’

‘It’s impossible for them not to,’ said Mutt. ‘Thanks to your fine hospitality. Fires. Wine. Food. What more could a man want?’ He didn’t mention the women, always a source of potential trouble.

‘Let’s not forget women,’ said Aios, wrong-footing him.

‘Aye. They can be good company,’ Mutt replied awkwardly. ‘Is it all right with your chief if anything, err, happens?’ He indicated the group of women. ‘Will your menfolk not rise up in arms if some of my soldiers lie with them?’

A surprised laugh. ‘Why would that happen?’ He saw the incomprehension in Mutt’s face. ‘Our unmarried girls can couple with whomever they choose. No one cares.’

‘Really?’ Mutt twisted around to look again. Most of the women were passable-looking, and two were pretty by any man’s standards. ‘Maybe I should go over. See if I can get lucky.’ He wasn’t entirely joking. How long had it been since he hadn’t handed over coin to have a woman go to bed with him? Five years? No, it was more than that, he concluded regretfully. Army life meant that the only females he’d met were whores, or captives taken in war, who had no rights of their own.

‘Go on,’ encouraged Aios, using an elbow. ‘When they hear that you’re second-in-command, you’ll be in there!’

Aios wasn’t joking, realised Mutt, feeling even more tempted. He sat his arse back down on the bench, though, and took another swig of his wine. ‘Not tonight.’

‘Why? You mightn’t get the same chance again for months!’

It could be far longer, thought Mutt ruefully. ‘I’d best keep an eye on my men.’

Aios saw the resolve in his eyes and let his arm fall. ‘Duty comes first, eh?’

‘Always,’ replied Mutt with a sigh. ‘A few more cups of wine, and that’s me.’

‘The perils of command in your army!’ said Aios with a grin. ‘Fortunately, I have no need to lead my warriors in the morning.’ He downed his drink in one go.

A shout dragged their attention away from conversation. Men opposite were turning around on their benches. Mutt craned his neck to see. A huge warrior stood over the next table, glowering at the soldiers who were seated there. Mutt’s stomach clenched; he half stood, hoping that this wasn’t what it looked like. With considerable amounts of drink taken on both sides, it wouldn’t take that much for a mass brawl to start. If things degenerated that far, it was all too easy for lives to be lost, and if that happened-

‘Another thing that we Cenomani love as much as wine, is wrestling.’ Aios’ voice was by his ear. ‘That’s Acco, one of the best wrestlers in the village. He’ll be wanting a match with one of your men.’

Mutt felt relief that a fight wasn’t about to break out, but he wasn’t sure if a wrestling contest was a good idea either. What he thought was irrelevant, however. Ithobaal had already stood up to thunderous cheers from his fellows. ‘FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!’ the spearmen shouted.

Firelight glittered off the silver coin in Aios’ fingers. ‘This for Acco to win,’ he said, grinning.

Mutt glanced at Acco’s bulging muscles and winced inwardly. Even if he was more pissed than Ithobaal — quite a likely prospect, given how he was swaying — he was still half again as big as his opponent. Yet it could possibly be considered rude not to wager with his host. ‘My purse is in my tent,’ he began.

‘I will take your word for it,’ interjected Aios.

‘Fine.’ They shook hands.

A ring of baying men quickly formed, with the two protagonists in the centre. Aios stepped within and took up a position between the contestants. He explained the rules to Ithobaal. Mutt listened intently. There was to be no punching, biting or gouging. The contest had to stay within the circle. It would end when one man spoke or signalled with his hand that he gave up. Other than that, there were no conditions. Ithobaal nodded his understanding. Acco growled his eagerness.

Aios raised and lowered his hand before retreating at speed. Shouts and roars of encouragement broke out from the supporters on both sides.

Gods, don’t let him injure Ithobaal too badly, Mutt asked. He didn’t care about the silver coin that he would lose.

The pair fell upon each other like wild beasts. Acco tried to throw his arms around Ithobaal, attempting to crush him, but the Ithobaal was too fast. He ducked under Acco’s swinging arms, swept his own right arm around the his back and flipped him around and over his hip. Acco fell heavily, to a chorus of jeers from Ithobaal’s supporters. Ithobaal’s immediate attempt to land on top of Acco and pin him down, however, was a stunning failure. Acco managed to roll onto his back, and grabbed Ithobaal in a mighty bear hug.

Mutt watched in astonishment as Ithobaal struggled to break free. Although Ithobaal was much stronger than he was, his efforts still looked like those of an insect trying to free itself from a spider’s web. Ithobaal strained and roared and kicked his legs. All his efforts came to nothing. In frustration, he tried to headbutt Acco. Anticipating the move, Acco twisted and met the blow with his cheekbone — and laughed, tightening his grip.

‘Acco’s as strong as an ox!’ cried Aios in delight.

‘Clearly,’ growled Mutt, hearing Ithobaal groan.

A moment later, to great roars from the tribesmen, Ithobaal conceded. He did so with poor grace, barely accepting Acco’s friendly handshake.

‘A one-sided contest,’ said Mutt, clapping Aios on the shoulder. ‘Acco is a true champion.’

‘He’s also one of the best warriors in the tribe.’

‘Look. Another of my soldiers wants to take him on.’ This time it was the biggest man in the phalanx, a simple fellow who went by the nickname of ‘The Bull’. He’d have more chance against Acco, thought Mutt, the wine strengthening his conviction.

‘This will be more of a contest,’ said Aios, his eyes glinting. ‘Double or nothing on our last wager?’

‘Of course,’ agreed Mutt. His luck might be better now.

But it wasn’t. Before long, ‘The Bull’ had also been beaten, and after him, one of Mutt’s spearmen who had always claimed that he’d been trained by a Greek wrestler.

By now, Mutt had lost three coins to Aios. Acco stood in the centre of the circle, bare chested now, covered in sweat. He looked undefeatable, like a statue of a god come to life. No more of Mutt’s men were prepared to fight him.

‘Fancy a bout against him yourself?’ asked Aios.

Mutt snorted. ‘Are you out of your mind? He’d crush me like a beetle.’

Aios looked around the circle, but the spearmen were all staying put. ‘It seems that there are no further contenders. The Cenomani win this battle, I think.’

‘They do. Without doubt,’ replied Mutt. Inside, though, he was feeling sore. Would your warriors stand against my phalanx, he wondered. I’m not so sure. With luck, though, that would never happen. Instead, Devorix and his men would join Hannibal and his army on their quest to defeat Rome.

‘Ha!’ cried Aios. ‘The struggle is not over!’

Mutt couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Ithobaal, ‘The Bull’, and the Greek-trained soldier had all attacked Acco at the same time. Ithobaal had grabbed one arm and ‘The Bull’ another while their comrade did his best to knock Acco’s legs from under him. Shit, Mutt thought. Every Gaul who’s here will join in now. He roared at his men to stop, but there was no way in hell that they could hear. The noise from the entire audience had become deafening.