Hannibal: Clouds of War by Ben Kane

that one that lifted all the roof tiles in the city two months back.’
    ‘Maybe it was blown over, but this is a perfect place for an ambush,’ Eumenes grumbled. ‘Thick bush on both sides. Most of the road blocked. We’ll have to lead the horses through, break up the infantry’s formation.’
    ‘There hasn’t been hair nor hide of a Roman patrol since we left Syracuse. They’re all further north, I tell you. Here, take my reins. I’m going to take a look past the tree.’
    Quintus glanced at Urceus, saw the tension in his face, realised that he had no idea what was being said. ‘It’s all right,’ he mouthed. He risked a slow, careful look at the road, and his heart nearly stopped. Eumenes, a big, bearded man, appeared to be staring right at him – from twenty paces away. Two horses were visible right behind him. Shit! thought Quintus, dropping his gaze. For long moments, he remained frozen to the spot, uncomfortably aware of the rapid breathing of the men to either side, the little clicks from knee joints that had been bent for too long. To his intense relief, there was no cry of alarm from the road.
    ‘Ho, Eumenes! Stop scratching your balls.’
    ‘Piss off, Merops. Well, did you see anything?’
    ‘Not so much as a Roman sandal print. I walked round the corner, had a good look to either side. The coast is clear.’
    ‘Sure?’
    ‘I’d stake my life on it.’
    That’s what you’ve just done, you fool, thought Quintus, beginning to hope that Corax’s plan might work.
    ‘C’mon. The boss will want to know what’s going on.’
    Next, the sound of men mounting up, horses walking away.
    Quintus breathed again.
    ‘What the fuck were they saying?’ Urceus’ lips were against his ear.
    Quintus explained. Seeing the fear on the face of the hastatus to Urceus’ right, he muttered, ‘Tell your neighbour. I’ll do the same on my side.’
    Corax evidently spoke some Greek too, because he came along the line, telling men to be calm, that the enemy had no idea they were there. Reassured, the hastati settled down to wait. A message was sent to Ammianus to inform him of what was going on.
    It wasn’t long before the Syracusan horsemen dismounted. Quintus could hear them grumbling as they walked in single file towards the tree. Someone’s horse was lame. Another rider’s arse was sore. Who cared about that, complained a different man: he was starving! More than one said that their commander was a pain in the neck, or asked how much further they would have to ride that day? Quintus’ lips tugged upwards. Soldiers everywhere were the same, whatever their allegiances. Be that as it may, they were the enemy, he reminded himself. They were no different to the Carthaginians who had slain his father. They were here to be killed, taken prisoner or driven from the field.
    Stealthy looks told him how many of the cavalrymen had gone by. Progress was slow, and the tension unbearable, but the Syracusans remained focused on negotiating their way around the fallen holm oak. Five riders led their horses by, then ten, and twenty. Few men even glanced at the bushes skirting the roadside. It was as well, thought Quintus nervously, more conscious than ever of the stacked branches that served to hide him and his comrades.
    Perhaps thirty of the horsemen had reached the other side when the hastatus who’d sneezed earlier convulsed in a new effort not to do so again. Corax was on his feet in a flash; darting over, he shoved a fold of the bottom of his tunic into the man’s face.
    Despite the danger, Quintus felt a smile creep on to his face. He saw the same amusement in Urceus’ eyes. The idea of blowing snot on to Corax’s clothing defied belief. Quintus had no doubt that the unfortunate soldier would pay for his mistake later. If he survived the fight, that was. Gods willing, we both will.
    Chooo! Corax’s attempt to kill the sound of the sneeze failed. The hastatus threw a terrified look at Corax, but the centurion was