Hannibal: Clouds of War by Ben Kane Page A

proffered the letter.
    Aurelia closed her eyes. Let me be imagining this, she prayed. But when she looked up again, the parchment was still there in front of her. With a trembling hand, she took it.
    ‘Shall I read it for you?’ The concern was clear in Tempsanus’ voice.
    ‘No.’ Cracking the seal, she unrolled it. Dimly, she heard Tempsanus demanding his note. After that, her attention was locked on the neat script that covered the page.
    ‘From the hand of Caius Licinius Stolo, agent of Lucius Vibius Melito and Julius Tempsanus in Rhegium—’
    It wasn’t from Lucius. Aurelia’s fear reached new heights.
    ‘I send greetings to Aurelia, wife of Melito.’
    Her eyes sped on, skimming the pleasantries. The words ‘watching the loading of a ship’, ‘iron ingots’ and ‘a rope snapped’ leaped out at her. Full of fear now, she read on. Stolo wrote that her husband had been gravely injured. The surgeon had diagnosed a shattered pelvis, multiple cracked ribs, two broken legs and a fractured arm, but it was Melito’s head injury that was giving rise to the most concern. ‘In the hours since the accident, he has rarely been conscious. When he does awake, it seems that he has no idea who he is, or where he is.’ Aurelia felt sick; she struggled to finish reading the letter. It closed with an attempt at reassurance, telling her that no efforts were being spared with regard to Melito’s care. She was to remain calm; to pray, especially to Aesculapius, and to wait for more news.
    Aurelia took a moment to rally her strength before pinning the messenger with her eyes. ‘Did my husband yet live when you left?’
    ‘Yes, mistress.’
    ‘How many days ago was that?’
    ‘Four. The message would have been sent by ship, but the weather was too severe.’
    It was then that Aurelia took in the lines of exhaustion on his face, the dirt that was ingrained in every patch of exposed skin. The man must have ridden like a demon, and changed horses many times. She would have to reward him well, she thought absently. Four days. For someone with such severe injuries, it was a lifetime ago. Aurelia’s eyes moved to Tempsanus. She saw the same awareness there. ‘He could already be dead,’ she said, her tone flat.
    ‘Let us not think like that, my lady,’ he urged. ‘Lucius is a young man; he’s at the peak of his physical strength. It will take time, and the help of the gods, but he may yet recover.’
    Aurelia nodded, trying to believe him. Inside, however, she was terrified that Lucius was as dead as her mother. She felt an overwhelming need to hold Publius, to feel his breath warm her cheek, to know that he at least was still with her. It was also obvious what else she had to do.
    ‘I shall set out for Ostia in the morning, and there take ship for Rhegium,’ she heard Tempsanus’ voice saying. ‘The Bark of Isis was launched last week, so the winds should be with us.’
    ‘I want to travel with you,’ said Aurelia.
    Tempsanus gaped. Regaining his composure, a fatherly, knowing expression crept across his face. ‘I cannot countenance that, my lady. You must celebrate the sacred feast for your mother in nine days. Besides, your husband would not approve of you leaving Rome.’
    ‘I need to be by his side.’
    ‘Your devotion is to be admired, my lady, but the sea journey is too perilous. Bad weather sinks many vessels. Syracusan and even Carthaginian vessels can be found in the waters off Rhegium. It’s no voyage for a woman of your station to undertake.’
    Aurelia began to object once more, but Tempsanus was having none of it. ‘Your grief is clouding your judgement, my lady. It is time for you to return home, to your son. You need rest and sleep. I will call on you in the morning, before I leave.’
    Aurelia didn’t have the strength to argue. ‘Very well,’ she whispered.
    ‘Mama, Mama!’ cried Publius the instant that Aurelia emerged from the lararium and into the courtyard. He was playing by the