Hannibal: Clouds of War by Ben Kane Page B

central fountain, with Elira in watchful attendance nearby.
    Aurelia had seen him briefly upon her return from the funeral, but had left him since in the care of Elira. She needed time to try and absorb her mother’s death and the news about Lucius. On this occasion, however, there was to be no escape. Publius scampered over, his arms outstretched. She stooped to pick him up, grateful that his innocence would not see through her false smile. ‘Hello, my darling.’
    ‘Come and play,’ he ordered.
    She gave in. ‘What are we to do?’
    ‘Splashing in the water.’ It was one of his favourite games.
    The simple pleasure that Publius took in playing by the edge of the fountain, and the endless repetition of what he demanded she do – flicking water over his hands and arms, and occasionally a few drops on his face – took up all of Aurelia’s attention. It was a relief not to think about her mother, about Lucius, about anything other than amusing her son.
    The approach of the doorman a short while later was an unwelcome distraction. A strapping Thracian bought by Lucius upon their arrival in Rome, he lingered unhappily on the edge of her vision, not quite prepared to intervene on the domestic scene. Eventually, Aurelia could ignore him no longer. ‘Publius, quiet for a moment. Who is at the door?’ she demanded. ‘Another itinerant soothsayer who wants to peddle his lies? Someone purporting to sell the finest perfumes in Rome?’
    ‘No, mistress,’ he mumbled.
    ‘Who then?’
    ‘He wouldn’t say.’
    ‘In that case, send him away!’ she snapped.
    ‘He’s i-insistent.’ He stumbled over the word. ‘He asks to speak with you, mistress. Aurelia, daughter of Gaius Fabricius.’
    Aurelia’s head spun to regard him. In Rome, few people indeed knew her father’s name. ‘What else?’
    A helpless shrug. ‘Nothing, mistress.’
    There was no point interrogating the Thracian further. ‘Let the man in. Search him for weapons, and bring him to me.’
    ‘Mistress.’ The Thracian was already backing away.
    ‘Time to play with Elira again, my sweet. Go and find her. I will be back soon.’ She planted a kiss on Publius’ head and walked into the tablinum . There she would find some privacy.
    She paced to and fro, wondering who was this visitor with knowledge of her family. With a sudden dart of fear, she thought of Phanes, the moneylender her mother had talked about. Before Cannae, he had made their lives a misery. She dismissed the idea. He wouldn’t have the balls to come here. Nevertheless, Aurelia was relieved to see that the man following the Thracian was not Phanes. He had the same dark complexion, but his black hair was tight and curly, not in oiled ringlets. Aurelia didn’t recognise him. Composing herself, she took up a position by the lararium, asking the household gods to watch over her.
    The Thracian stopped a few paces from her. ‘He had a knife, mistress, but he gave it up easy enough. Nothing else on him, apart from a purse.’
    Aurelia nodded her approval. ‘Remain here.’
    The Thracian stepped to one side, allowing the visitor to approach. He bowed courteously. ‘Have I the honour of addressing Aurelia, daughter of Gaius Fabricius?’
    ‘And wife of Lucius Vibius Melito. You do, yes. Who are you?’
    He looked up, revealing deep blue, wary eyes. ‘My name is Timoleon. I am an Athenian merchant.’
    ‘I know no Athenian merchants. Perhaps you have come to see my husband? He is not here—’
    ‘I am here to see you, my lady. I bring you a message.’
    Aurelia felt a familiar flutter of fear in her belly. This could not be more bad news from Rhegium. Could it? ‘From whom?’
    ‘A friend.’ He cast a sideways glance at the Thracian.
    Aurelia understood. ‘Return to the atrium,’ she ordered. The Thracian looked unhappy. ‘You’ve got his knife, haven’t you?’ she cried. ‘If I need you, I will call out. Go!’
    With a final glare at Timoleon, he shuffled off.
    ‘Approach,’