Ben Kane - Fields of Blood

‘I’m not sure,’ Lucius replied curtly.

He was being evasive. Aurelia had an idea what it might be, but like her husband she was not prepared to say what she feared.

An enormous boom sounded overhead; their heads lifted. Banks of black cloud were sweeping in from the west, brought in by a wind that had suddenly picked up. Light flickered within the clouds, presaging lightning. Another crackle of thunder. They shared a worried look. This was a bad omen. Added to the racket, it felt even more menacing. A few of the slaves began to weep.

‘Be silent!’ roared Lucius. ‘Out of my sight. Get back to work.’ The slaves scurried from view, urged on by Statilius. ‘I’m going to find out what’s causing the alarm,’ said Lucius, his face grim.

Aurelia felt a lurch of panic. ‘Send Statilius instead.’

He didn’t respond. ‘Bar the doors when I am gone. Let no one in until I return.’

She didn’t argue. Rarely had she seen him so set upon a purpose. ‘Be safe, husband,’ she whispered.

A short smile and he vanished into the tablinum, shouting for his sword. She watched him go, feeling sick at the thought of what he might discover.

Waiting for Lucius to return was hellish. The noise outside continued to increase in volume. It was audible even with the rumbling of thunder that accompanied it. In it, Aurelia heard women’s screams, men shouting angrily, the crying of babies and the braying of mules. Even when the rain began to fall, the unearthly sound did not stop. It was what Aurelia imagined Hades might sound like. Gooseflesh erupted all over her body; she could not settle Publius, no matter how hard she tried. He didn’t want to feed; his usual lullabies made no difference. All he would do was cry. In the end, she walked him around the colonnaded walkway that enclosed the courtyard. That helped a little.

A barrage of hammering on the front door nearly made her jump out of her skin. Lucius’ voice demanding entry reassured her that it wasn’t a demon come to claim them, but her stomach still roiled as Statilius ran to let his master in. Lucius appeared a moment later. He was soaked to the skin and his cheeks were haggard, as if he’d been out in the weather all day.

Aurelia walked to meet him, cradling Publius, who mercifully fell silent. Nausea clawed the back of her throat, but she fought it away. Neither husband nor wife said a word as they neared one another. Close up, Aurelia saw that Lucius had been crying. His face was stricken. ‘They lost, didn’t they?’ she said, uttering the unthinkable, which had been in her mind since the commotion began. ‘Hannibal won.’

His nod was mechanical, as if he’d been drugged.

If Aurelia hadn’t been holding Publius, she would have fallen. Calm. You must stay calm, she thought. ‘Tell me.’

‘Two messengers presented themselves at the gates just after sunrise, demanding an audience with the magistrates. An announcement was made in the forum after that meeting. All kinds of rumours are flying about, but I managed to speak with an official whom I know. He’s level-headed, so his account is as reliable as can be expected. Two days ago, it was Varro’s turn to lead the army. He was determined to start a battle, even though Paullus wanted to wait until a better location could be found.’ Lucius spoke in a monotone. ‘Varro crossed the River Aufidius and drew up the legions in one great bloc. Hannibal’s army followed and formed up opposite. Our soldiers advanced on the middle of the enemy line, with the cavalry in support on the wings. Varro’s intention was to smash the guggas apart with one decisive blow, before annihilating their broken remnants. Our horse had to hold the flanks. Except everything went wrong. Hannibal’s horsemen attacked on both sides. They put the citizen cavalry to flight almost at once, while the socii riders were bogged down by his infernal Numidians. We had such superiority of numbers of infantry that that shouldn’t have mattered — in theory. The trouble was, Hannibal had a master plan that Varro didn’t see. His weakest troops were standing in his centre and in a formation slightly bowed towards our soldiers. When the fighting began, the enemy was driven back slowly. But as the legionaries drew level with the rest of his men, Hannibal had his wings — which were made up of his Libyan veterans — swing around to attack the legions’ sides. Much of his cavalry fell upon our rear at the same time.’

Aurelia felt cold all over. ‘Where were our horsemen by this time? The citizens, especially?’

‘Driven off, or killed.’ His eyes caught hers. ‘I’m sorry, Aurelia.’

Father! Gaius! She had to lean against a pillar to hold herself upright. Lucius’ gaze was steady and it helped her to gain control. ‘Go on. I want to know everything. How many dead?’

‘No one knows for sure. One of the tribunes sent a group of riders to inform the Senate as the sun fell. Apparently, Varro escaped to Venusia with a few thousand men. More still fled to Canusium. There were stragglers all over the countryside. It will take days to calculate the losses.’

‘How many?’ she demanded again.

‘Thirty thousand, perhaps more,’ he said quietly. ‘That’s what the messengers think.’

Aurelia reeled. It felt as if someone had punched her in the solar plexus. ‘Quintus is dead too, then.’ She could control her emotions no longer. Clutching Publius to her as if he’d be stolen too, she let the sobs come. Alarmed, he also began to wail. Lucius moved towards her, but she waved him away. ‘How can the gods do this to me?’ she screamed. ‘Take three of the most important men in my life in one sweep? Curse them for being faithless! Curse them for never listening to our pleas!’

‘Aurelia! You cannot say such things! It will bring misfortune upon us.’ Lucius was appalled.

‘Misfortune?’ she shrieked. ‘How could anything be worse than what you’ve just told me? This for the gods!’ She hawked and spat on the floor. Even as she did it, Aurelia regretted it. But it was too late.

‘Be silent, wife! Control yourself, or I shall be forced to do so for you.’ The veins on Lucius’ neck stood out like purple ropes. ‘Is that clear?’

Aurelia was stunned by the level of his anger. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘To your room! Attend to my son. That is your damn job, not calling down the anger of the gods on this family, this house.’

Weeping, Aurelia fled before his fury. What madness had possessed her to speak as she had? She was but a mere human, condemned to accept whatever was handed out to her, good or bad, by the all-powerful deities. Defying them would make no difference, and would in all likelihood make things worse. Yet part of her could not help thinking: How could things be any worse? Father is dead. Quintus is dead. Gaius is dead. Our army has been destroyed. She would never know, but no doubt Hanno had also been slain. Hannibal and his army could now visit whatever fate they wished upon the Republic.

Publius stirred in her arms, and her heart lurched her back into reality. Here he was, more precious than any of the other people or things in her life. She began silently to beg forgiveness of the gods. Do not take my child from me, please. Forgive my transgression, which was made in the depths of despair. Such words will never pass my lips again. I shall make generous sacrifices in expiation. Aurelia prayed long and hard and as earnestly as she had ever done in her life.

It was only when she had finished and settled a sleeping Publius in his cot that Aurelia dared to allow her grief to resurface. She lay on her bed and sobbed into the pillow, wishing that Lucius would come to comfort her. It was a faint hope, which disappeared as the hours passed. Elira crept in at one point, but Aurelia, angry that it was not Lucius, shouted at her to get out and not come back. Thoughts of Hanno did not help either. He was a fantasy figure, whom she would never meet again, let alone conjure into an appearance here.