Hannibal Enemy of Rome Read Online Free PDF Page A

water. Lift them free. Bend forward, pushing the handles between his knees. Over and over he repeated the process, ignoring his pounding head and dry mouth, and cursing their foolishness in drinking all of the wine. If I had listened to my father, I’d still be at home, he thought bitterly. Safe on dry land.
    Finally, when the muscles in his arms were trembling with exhaustion, Hanno stopped. Without looking up, he knew that their position would have changed little. For every three strokes’ progress, the current carried them at least two further out to sea. ‘Well?’ he shouted. ‘Can you see anything?’
    ‘No,’ Suniaton replied grimly. ‘Move over. It’s my turn, and this is our best chance.’
    Our last chance, Hanno thought, gazing at the darkening sky.
    Gingerly, they exchanged places on the little wooden thwarts that were the boat’s only fittings. Thanks to the mass of slippery fish underfoot, it was even more difficult than usual. While his friend laboured at the oars, Hanno strained for a glimpse of land over the waves. Neither spoke. There was no point. The rain was now drumming down on their backs, combining with the wind’s noise to form a shrieking cacophony that made normal speech impossible. Only the sturdy construction of their boat had prevented them from capsizing thus far.
    At length, his energy spent, Suniaton shipped the oars. He looked at Hanno. There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
    Hanno shook his head once.
    ‘It’s supposed to be the summer!’ Suniaton cried. ‘Gales like this shouldn’t happen without warning.’
    ‘There would have been signs,’ Hanno snapped back. ‘Why do you think there are no other boats out here? They must have headed for the shore when the wind began to get up.’
    Suniaton flushed and hung his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered. ‘It’s my fault. I should never have taken Father’s wine.’
    Hanno gripped his friend’s knee. ‘Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t force me to drink it. That was my choice.’
    Suniaton managed a half-smile. That was, until he looked down. ‘No!’
    Hanno followed his gaze and saw the tunny floating around his feet. They were shipping water, and enough of it to warrant immediate action. Trying not to panic, he began throwing the precious fish overboard. Survival was far more important than money. With the floor clear, he soon found a loose nail in one of the planks. Removing one of his sandals, he used the iron-studded sole to hammer the nail partially home, thereby reducing the influx of seawater. Fortunately, there was a small bucket on board, containing spare pieces of lead for the net. Grabbing it, Hanno began bailing hard. To his immense relief, it didn’t take long before he’d reduced the water to an acceptable level.
    A loud rumble of thunder overhead nearly deafened him.
    Suniaton moaned with fear, and Hanno jerked upright.
    The sky overhead was now a menacing black colour, and in the depths of the clouds a flickering yellow-white colour presaged lightning. Thewaves were being whipped into a frenzy by the wind, which was growing stronger by the moment. The storm was approaching its peak. More water slopped into the boat, and Hanno redoubled his efforts with the bucket. Any chance of rowing back to Carthage was long gone. They were going one direction. East. Into the middle of the Mediterranean. He tried not to let his panic show.
    ‘What’s going to happen to us?’ Suniaton asked plaintively.
    Realising that his friend was seeking reassurance, Hanno tried to think of an optimistic answer, but couldn’t. The only outcome possible was an early meeting for them both with Melqart, the marine god.
    In his palace at the bottom of the sea.

Chapter II: Quintus

    Near Capua, Campania
    QUINTUS WOKE SOON after dawn, when the first rays of sunlight crept through the window. Never one to linger in bed, the sixteen-year-old threw off his blanket. Wearing only a
licium
, or linen undergarment, he padded to the