Hannibal: The Patrol by Ben Kane Read Free Book Online

situation.
    The three-way struggle went on for some time, long enough for Mutt to sink two more cups of wine. Inevitably, Acco beat ‘The Bull’ again, but Ithobaal and the Greek-trained soldier both overcame their opponents. Mutt’s men went crazy when the last tribesman conceded defeat.
    Mutt worried that things might turn nasty at this point, but the warriors around him seemed to take the whole thing in good spirit, laughing and clapping the nearest of his men on the back. He turned to Aios. ‘Two contests apiece now. That makes us even!’
    ‘Your soldiers are to be commended for not giving up.’ Aios saluted him with his cup. ‘Perhaps you and I should have a bout now, to finish it?’
    The blond Gaul had five years on him at least, thought Mutt. He was probably less pissed too, given the way the wine was now fizzing through his veins. ‘Another day, maybe,’ he said. ‘When I’m not so drunk.’
    Aios chuckled. ‘You’re a prudent man, Mutt. I can see why you’ve got to your position. Don’t enter a fight unless you’re sure of a victory.’
    ‘Something like that,’ Mutt agreed.
    ‘Come, let’s share another cup of wine before you go.’
    So he did.
    *
    The next morning, Mutt overslept for the first time in many months. He’d been up half the night, pissing and drinking water, so it was no surprise really, he chided himself. Bogu, who had woken him, had a little smile on his face that he chose to ignore.
    ‘I’m up, I’m up,’ he growled. Bogu nodded and pulled his head out of Mutt’s tent. ‘Tell the men to break camp,’ Mutt called after him.
    ‘They’re already doing it, sir,’ came the reply.
    Mutt sank back onto the ground with a little groan. Just a moment or two more rest, he thought. Gods, but he wished that he hadn’t had that last drink. It was always the one that seemed to guarantee the headache, the cold sweats and the pounding heart. It was his own fault, he conceded. He should have stopped after a few. That was the rub, though. It was so hard to refuse another drink once that familiar glow had taken hold of his body.
    Heaving himself up, he stripped off his tunic and shoved his way out of the tent, stark naked. Icy air caressed his body. He grabbed for the hide bucket that he’d left there for just this purpose. Lifting it high, Mutt emptied the contents — river water — over his head. Ice that had formed on top of the water shattered onhis head, and a torrent of freezing liquid followed. The shock and pain was exquisite.
    ‘Baal Hammon’s balls!’ he shouted.
    ‘Have a few too many?’
    He spun to find Hanno watching him wryly. ‘I might have, sir, yes,’ he mumbled.
    ‘Any trouble?’
    He could tell Hanno about the wrestling match when the opportunity arose, Mutt decided. ‘No, sir.’
    ‘Good. The sentries reported nothing eventful either.’ Hanno was already turning away. ‘Best get your kit on. We’re moving out soon.’
    Suddenly aware that everyone’s eyes were on him and what passed for his manhood, Mutt made a show of stretching his arms wide as if he had just climbed out of a comfortable bed. When things are not normal, he remembered his father saying, act as if they are. After a casual yawn, he re-entered his tent. There was laughter, but not much, and it was stifled. He could live with that.
    Once Mutt had got moving, he began to feel more normal. Drinking a skin full of spring water helped as well. He was grateful to feel better, because that meant the impending march would not be a total hell.
    Aios and Devorix came out of the village to bid them farewell. Both were clad in fur cloaks. Their reddened eyes and tousled hair was the only evidence of the previous night’s activities.
    ‘My father asks that you speak with Hannibal of our friendship,’ said Aios. ‘We plan to meet you with our warriors at the walls of Victumulae.’
    ‘I will tell him,’ Hanno promised. ‘And you have my thanks for your hospitality.’
    ‘And mine,’ added