Carthage Must Be Destroyed, page 18
part #2 of Soldier of the Republic Series
“Yes,” Flavius bellowed as he raised his arm triumphantly in the air. “Yes!”
A relieved cry was immediately taken up by the defenders clustered along the ramparts, as all risked a look to see what was going on. Across the open fields, the Carthaginians were now retreating in some disorder as the Roman cavalry bore down on them. Then the attacking squadrons were in and amongst the enemy, slashing and cutting down the desperate fleeing men.
“This is brilliant,” Caius roared, in an excited voice as he stared at the rout. “We are beating them, father. We’re driving them off.”
Flavius said nothing as he gazed at the fast-moving action. His ambush had been sprung. The horsemen were Longus’s men all right. He could tell from the Roman banners they were holding aloft. Aemilia and Victorix must have been successful. Then his attention was suddenly drawn to a group of Numidian cavalry, who were trying to cover the retreat. Amongst the enemy horsemen, a rider was holding up a proud Punic banner. At his side was a magnificently clad man wearing a coat of golden ring armour, a purple cloak and a peaked Carthaginian cap.
“Hannibal,” Flavius hissed with sudden certainty. It was Hannibal! The man had to be the great Carthaginian general. No one else was so finely clad.
As he stared at the fighting, several Roman cavalry squadrons spotted the finely-clad Carthaginian horseman and veered straight towards him, charging forwards in a pincer movement, trying to encircle him and cut him off. The lightly-armed Numidians around Hannibal, trying to cover the retreat, seemed to have no stomach for hand-to-hand combat with the heavier-armed Romans. They quickly scattered, speeding away on their small, shaggy horses, as the Roman attack bore down on them. Tensely and excitedly, Flavius stared at the confused, fast moving cavalry skirmish. Then his eyes widened in disbelief and swiftly he punched the air in delight as the Roman cavalry broke through. Moments later Hannibal was dismounted and flung to the ground surrounded by a mass of milling Roman cavalry.
“We got him,” Flavius roared. “We got the bastard. He’s down. Hannibal is down!”
Across the fields to the west the survivors from the Carthaginian force, together with groups of Numidian horsemen, had reached the relative safety of the forest and were swiftly vanishing out of sight amongst the trees. The Roman cavalry, not daring to follow them into the forest, was already slowing their pursuit and turning back to re-join their comrades. As he stared at the spot where he’d seen Hannibal fall, Flavius looked jubilant. Then his attention was drawn to three horsemen, racing towards the gates leading into the harbour. As the three approached, he recognised Aemilia, Victorix and Gallus.
“What took you so bloody long,” Flavius bellowed, as he stood up and a huge relieved grin spread across his lips.
***
“It’s not Hannibal,” Longus said in an irritated voice. The consul was sitting on his horse in the field in front of the harbour fort. Surrounding him, was a cluster of senior officers and bodyguards. All looked sour and annoyed, as they gazed down at the trembling figure kneeling before them on the ground. The kneeling man was still clad in a fine coat of golden chainmail armour and a purple cloak. His lebbade, his Punic cap had however been knocked from his head and lay in the snow. Flavius looked glum as he stood, his hands placed on his hips, staring at the captive.
“It’s not Hannibal,” Longus snapped again. “We were fooled. The Carthaginians dressed him up to look like Hannibal, but this man is a nobody. A decoy. We’ve been tricked.”
“Fuck,” Flavius hissed, as he took a step towards the Carthaginian prisoner.
“Ask him what has become of Hannibal? Was he leading the attack? Where is he now?” Flavius called out, turning to the old Greek translator standing at Longus’s side.
Hastily the translator turned and spoke to the prisoner and in response he received a muttered reply.
“He says lord - that Hannibal was slightly wounded in the fighting,” the Greek replied, turning quickly to look up at Longus. “He says he thinks Hannibal got away with the Numidians. He says Lord that Hannibal had clothed himself like them, so as not to attract any attention.”
“Wounded,” Longus barked as his expression seemed to change. “We managed to wound Hannibal, well that is something at least. I hope the bastard is in pain. I hope he is suffering.”
Flavius was staring at the prisoner. Then his shoulders slumped, and he took a deep breath, lowering his eyes to the ground. His plan had failed. The ambush had been for nothing.
“You there,” Longus said suddenly as he looked up. Flavius saw that the consul was pointing at him. “No, no, you have done well. Do not be downhearted. This is still a victory. We managed to wound Hannibal and drive his men off. That is not a bad effort. You did well in warning me. We shall get the bastard next time. This is a good day for Rome.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Flavius said with an appreciative nod, taken by surprise by the unexpected compliment.
Raising his head Flavius glanced quickly at Aemilia who was sitting on her horse a little further back. Her beautiful face was covered in dust and sweat. As she saw him staring at her she smiled and slowly raised and clenched her hand into a fist. Maybe the consul was right, Flavius thought, as he turned away. They would get the bastard next time. He’d been an amateur when he’d first joined this spying game, but he was learning. He was getting better.
Chapter Fifteen - Family
Flavius stood on the jetty gazing silently at the boats, as one by one, they disappeared, heading downstream on their journey back along the Po. More were coming, the ships captains had told him. The colony was not being abandoned. The news had done a huge amount to raise morale and that was just as well, Flavius thought. It was cold and late in the day and despite a small rest after the night battle, Flavius still looked tired. In the direction of Placentia, a column of smoke was rising into the clear blue wintery sky from where the colonists were burning the bodies of the slain in one great funeral pyre. The threat of disease meant they had to act quickly. Around the fort, strewn across the snowy ground, lying discarded in the waterlogged ditch and sticking out of the wooden walls was the detriment of battle - broken weapons, discarded javelins, arrows, shields, axes, dead horses and clothing. A few colonists were out collecting weapons and inspecting the damage and trying to make repairs to the defences with hammers, iron nails and pick-axes and for the moment the sound of their voices and the hammering was the only noise.
Turning away Flavius started back along the jetty towards the small harbour. He’d sent Victorix, Gallus and Caius out of the fort, each with a specific task and instructions. With his family still in Placentia, for the moment, he was alone. As he was about to go through the battered river gate and into the fort, Aemilia suddenly appeared, blocking his way. The young woman looked pensive as she folded her arms across her chest and turned to gaze down river.
“Thank you for agreeing to stay a little longer,” Flavius said, as he paused beside her. “The ship captains say that more boats are on their way. You can go back to Ariminum with them when they arrive.”
“I know,” Aemilia replied. “It’s fine. I can wait a few days. But I need your report before I go. My brother will want to know what you have been up to with his fifty denarii.”
“Yes,” Flavius growled, with a little nod. “Let’s do that now before dark. Can you write?”
“Can I write?” Aemilia exclaimed, looking astonished. “Of course. I was taught by the finest tutors in Rome. That’s a ridiculous question. Only an idiot can’t write.”
“Come with me,” Flavius replied. “I will get you a writing tablet and a stylus and you can write down my report to your brother yourself.”
In the small kitchen used by the harbour garrison, Flavius closed the door behind him and gestured for Aemilia to take a seat at the table. Then handing her a small wooden writing-tablet and an iron-tipped stylus, he cleared his throat.
“Telamon to Trebonius,” Flavius began speaking in a quiet but clear voice, as Aemilia carefully scratched the words into the delicate wood. “Greetings. Swordfish has made contact and delivered the requested funds. Thank you for this. The situation here in Placentia is dire but not hopeless. The colony has been cut off from landward communications by Hannibal’s victory at the Trebbia and the uprising amongst the Boii. Morale amongst the colonists is however good. If you manage Sir to speak to the senate, then tell them this: Placentia stands firm. The colony is performing its loyal duty to Rome. We continue to fight.”
Flavius paused, as he allowed Aemilia to catch up and check her writing.
“One of my agents has reported that Hannibal has no siege equipment or artillery and currently no ability to manufacture such machines,” Flavius continued. “They also report that Hannibal intends to march south, possibly on Rome, but not until the spring comes - for his Gallic allies have gone into winter quarters. You asked me Sir, for something that you can show the senate; some proof that our intelligence gathering activities are worth their lordships continued support. Well I have something for you. Last night, acting on intelligence received from my agent in Hannibal’s camp, we set an ambush. The Carthaginians attacked Placentia’s harbour during the middle of the night, hoping to capture it, but we were ready and waiting for them and the attack was beaten off with Longus’s aid. During the fighting we managed to wound Hannibal. The wound was not severe, but the fact that we managed to get so close to him, is a reason for optimism. I will write again soon with news on the additional networks and agents that I am developing. In the meantime, Swordfish shall give you an additional verbal update on my activities. Your friend, Telamon.”
Flavius fell silent as Aemilia frowned and continued to scratch the words into the wood.
“That’s it?” She exclaimed at last, looking up at him. “What about the fifty denarii? You have not mentioned what the funds were for or how it was used? It is a substantial amount of money. My brother will want to know what you have done with it. And what’s this about a verbal update? I don’t understand.”
“The money was lost,” Flavius said. “It was never intended for an agent. I used the money instead to settle some personal debts. I want you to tell Trebonius that in person.”
“What?” Aemilia exclaimed, looking shocked. “You used these funds for personal enrichment?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
For a moment Aemilia stared at Flavius in horror, unable to say anything. Then quickly she turned to look down at the wooden tablet, oblivious to the careful way in which Flavius was observing her.
“This is theft. This is outrageous. My brother will not be pleased,” she snapped. “Funds for our organisation are scarce and if what you say is true - then you have just wasted a considerable amount of our budget with nothing to show for it. If the senate were to learn of this, they would charge us with fraud and incompetence…”
Abruptly she stopped and a little colour shot into her cheeks.
“No,” Aemilia said sharply as she shook her head. “No, I will not be speaking to my brother about this.”
“Why not?”
“Because it is not true,” Aemilia said in an unamused voice, glaring up at Flavius as she did. “You are not the kind of man who would do such a thing. That’s not who you are. I have met a lot of lying, corrupt and cheating men. You are not one of them, Flavius. No, you are doing this to test my reaction.”
A little smile appeared on Flavius’s lips, as he gazed back at her. Then at last he sighed and looked away.
“You are right,” he said in a gentler voice. “I was testing you. I wanted to see your reaction, to see how smart you really are. But you are still going to have to explain the lost funds to Trebonius in your own words. Whether you want to be harsh or kind to me will be up to you.”
“It’s not funny,” Aemilia snapped, looking hurt.
“The money was lost. That part is true,” Flavius continued. “I made a mistake. The funds were used to recruit Dasius Brundisius as an agent, but he betrayed me and Rome by handing Clastidium to Hannibal. But despite this setback, I still managed to discover something useful.”
Flavius paused as he gazed at Aemilia with a sudden fondness. “And you will most definitely be speaking to your brother about this,” he added.
“What?” Aemilia snapped.
“The Carthaginians have a rival intelligence-gathering organisation to our own,” Flavius said. “They are operating here in Italy and they are aware of what we are doing. I believe the man leading them is called Epicydes. There is also another agent, an assassin who tried to kill me. His name is Kleptos. He is a doctor by trade, comes from Brundisium. He is a childhood friend of Dasius.” Flavius paused. “These men are dangerous, highly-skilled and experienced at what they do. They are going to be formidable opponents.”
***
It was growing dark when Flavius at last caught sight of Victorix and Gallus walking back towards the harbour. Slung over his shoulders, its legs dangling uselessly, Victorix was carrying a young, newly-killed deer. Raising his hand in greeting, Flavius eagerly made his way down to the entrance gate into the fortified harbour. In the centre of the courtyard, Caius his bruised eye still firmly shut, was piling wood-blocks into a heap.
“Did you get it?” Flavius called out to Caius.
“Yes father. I have given one to the men like you told me to. The other is in the kitchen,” Caius replied. “It’s the best that I could get for that price.”
“Good man,” Flavus said looking pleased. Then he turned and headed for the barracks building in which his family were sitting down, resting after a hard day’s work. As he entered, Agrippina, Atia, Cassia and Octavia looked up. If they had been worried or scared by the signs of battle strewn about their home, they were not showing it. All four women seemed resolved to show a stiff upper-lip.
“Listen,” Flavius said turning to them. “I have an announcement to make. I know things have been hard for all of us lately. You all work long hours and the war has not made it easy. So, tonight we are having a feast. A chance to forget everything for a while. Cassia said that we had missed celebrating Saturnalia, well, we are going to make up for that tonight. Victorix has killed a deer and Caius has been into Placentia to buy some wine. Will you come and join me outside around the fire?”
“Can we afford a party?” Agrippina blurted out in surprise.
Flavius shrugged and grinned. “It’s happening,” he replied. “On condition that Cassia and Octavia sing for us.”
Sitting in her chair, Cassia clapped her hands together and shot Octavia an excited glance. Then the girls were up on their feet and hastening outside into the courtyard.
“You left me here all on my own with those devils,” Atia snapped, as she shook her fist at Flavius. “There was no one here to protect me last night. No one. I was on my own. You are no good, Flavius, no good.”
“Well you won’t be on your own tonight,” Flavius said, with a good-natured sigh as Agrippina giggled.
***
It was night and around the blazing camp fire in the middle of the courtyard, the party was in full swing. Standing beside the fire, holding a simple bone flute, Caius was playing a fast tune with his mouth and fingers. Opposite him Cassia and nineteen-year-old Octavia were dancing arm-in-arm singing lustily in fine beautiful voices, their eyes and faces beaming with delight. Sitting gathered around the crackling fire Victorix, Aemilia, Calipso, Atia and a few other colonists were listening to the performance, pausing only now and then to take a sip of wine from their wooden cups. A finely crafted set of Gallic fire-dogs had been placed over the fire and suspended from it was the carcass of the deer. The smell of freshly roasting meat filled the night air. As the animal fat dripped into the flames it exploded - making hissing noises. Standing slowly turning the handle of the spit, Gallus was gazing at Cassia, his cheeks glowing in the heat, his eyes fixed on her.
As the singers and Caius at last fell silent, a great roar of appreciation erupted from the people sitting around the fire followed by loud clapping. Sitting beside Agrippina, Flavius raised his cup to Victorix and took a sip of wine, enjoying the moment. As Caius began a new tune and Cassia and Octavia started to sing a new song, Aemilia got to her feet with a grin and quickly joined the dancers, clapping her hands as she danced.
“I do not like her,” Agrippina murmured, staring at Aemilia as she quietly leaned into Flavius. “She does not act like a proper Roman woman. She does not know her place. She has no respect. The sooner she leaves the better.”
Flavius sighed. “She is what she is,” he muttered.
Looking up, Flavius noticed that Gallus was suddenly standing before him. The fifteen-year-old youth’s cheeks were glowing red from the heat. Without uttering a noise, the boy was gazing down at him, his eyes gleaming in the firelight, his arm stiffly outstretched towards Flavius, and lying in the palm of his hand was a single silver coin.
“My cousin,” Victorix quickly called out from across the fire. “He wants to return the silver coin that you gave him, Flavius. He wants you to know about the work he does for you. He does not do it for silver. He does it for vengeance. For the spirits of his dear departed and murdered family in Taurasia. He hears their cries for vengeance.” Victorix paused. “He wants you to have the coin, Flavius. You should accept it.”
Flavius paused as he gazed up at Gallus. Then he took the silver coin and gave the boy a quick appreciative nod.
