Hannibal: The Patrol Read Online Free PDF Page B

Ithobaal, red-faced and fuming, was able to do nothing except to promise that he would not forget his friends.
    ‘Are you going, sir?’ asked Bogu, who had also picked a winning straw from Mutt’s fist.
    ‘Possibly, later on. I’ll be sober, though, and that’s the way I will stay. So be on your best behaviour. I don’t want anyone picking a fight with a Gaul, or worse still, molesting one of their women — at least without their permission. If I hear of, or catch any fool doing something he shouldn’t be, he will answer to me! And he’llrue the damn day he was born. Am I clear?’ He glared at them until they nodded their acceptance. ‘You can go into the village once the sun goes down.’ Having picked the sentries for the night, Mutt dismissed the men. He would never admit it, but he was pleased for them. Since the descent from the Alps, life had improved, but not by as much as everyone had hoped. A celebration such as the one that beckoned would raise morale, and give the soldiers a much needed break from the cold, the monotony of marching and fighting and — his belly rumbled on cue — feeling constantly hungry.
    Several hours later…
    Seeing Hanno’s familiar shape outlined by the glow of light that rose above the village rampart, Mutt grinned. He had checked on the sentries and the wounded, and ensured that the men who remained in camp weren’t getting into any mischief. Now, despite his determination to remain sober, he was looking forward to another drink. In the centre of the village, the noise of singing, music and general ribaldry had been growing ever louder, and the wine and food that had been carried out to the camp by half a dozen Gaulish boys had not lasted long. Stay calm, Mutt thought. Hanno might have changed his mind. I’m not getting away until he says I am.
    Mutt walked over to greet him, curious to see if he was pissed. ‘Evening, sir.’
    ‘Mutt. Any sign of the enemy?’
    ‘I took a patrol on a circuit about half a mile out from the camp an hour ago, sir. The only creature we saw was an owl. Nothing else is moving out there.’
    Hanno visibly relaxed.
    ‘How are things in the village, sir?’
    Hanno laughed. ‘It’s fucking mayhem! I’ve never seen men get stuck into wine quite the way those tribesmen do. It’s like pouring water into barrels of sawdust! Naturally, our men are doing their best to keep up, but there’s enough wine to drown an army. The amount of food is incredible too. There are drinking and arm-wrestling competitions going on. Dancing. Music. I tell you, Mutt, we fell on our feet meeting Devorix. If he orders his men to cut our throats in the middle of the night, then I’m no judge of character.’
    ‘That’s good to hear, sir.’ Hanno still seemed sober, Mutt noted with pleasure. Despite the entertainment on offer, he hadn’t forgotten his position as commander.
    ‘It’s your turn now,’ announced Hanno.
    Mutt’s spirits rose, but he just said, ‘Is that all right, sir?’
    ‘Piss off, Mutt, and enjoy yourself. Keep an eye out for any of the men fighting or suchlike. We don’t want trouble.’
    ‘I’ll watch them like a hawk, sir.’
    ‘In the morning, we’ll march an hour later than normal. No harm letting the lads have a little more sleep.’
    ‘Very good, sir,’ replied Mutt gladly. ‘Good night.’
    Waving a hand in dismissal, Hanno walked off into the darkness.
    Reaching under his cloak, Mutt touched the hilt of his small dagger for reassurance — no matter where he was, he didn’t like being unarmed. Then he headed for the main gate. A burning torch had been shoved into a metal bracket on either side, illuminating the entrance. At first, he could see no sign of a sentry, but then Mutt made out the shape of a warrior sprawled in the dirt just inside the ramparts. A jug lay on its side beside the man, who was snoring fit to wake the dead. Just as well that there are no sodding Romans nearby, he thought wryly.
    Within the walls, the