Lilybaeum

Chapter 4

An uneventful three weeks had passed and Amellius groaned to see his night had faded so quickly, his sticky eye lids kept hindering his vision until he cleared it with a splash of cold water which had been left out for him, by that Greek steward no doubt. The cool water awakened his senses further and the bright colours light up by the already rising sun. He glanced through to his study and saw the death warrant for the Carthaginian spy, the criminal was probably looking out the small window in his cell wishing for one more day, but a criminal is a criminal and they must all face justice in the end. The thought of the man’s despair made Amellius suddenly feel forlorn but he knew his duty and the man must die.

 He dismissed the thought as feeling guilty for criminals would just mess with his head and they weren’t even worth thinking about but it would give the plebeians some good entertainment. He tucked his knife into his belt, it was but a small blade but it was extremely sharp and you never know what could happen, so it was always comforting to have about his hip. He quickly grabbed some bread and an apple from the table then headed out to his stables. He had imported some of the best bloodlines from Italy and the fiery horses were always a pleasure to ride, his favourite gelding whinnied in the stables it was a chestnut stallion. Its muscles were so prominent under its hide that it always amazed Amellius every time he looked at the magnificent beast. It snorted in indignation and Amellius remembered the apple he had brought for it, he held it out for the gelding that gently took it from his hand and turned away as it munched on the green fruit. The flesh cracking under the soft pressure of the horse's jaw, the juice dripped down the gelding's hairy chin obviously enjoying the rare treat.

 Amellius slipped his saddle over the horse’s back, it kicked its leg lightly in excitement, it can’t have gone out on a run since it arrived and must have a lot of pent up energy. He opened the stable door and led the horse out into the blinding sun, Amellius squinted before his eyes became used to the sudden light. Several slave boys scattered at the sight of the animal, whose kicks could be deadly if you got in the horse’s way. Amellius swung himself up into the saddle and kicked his feet into the gelding’s flanks and urged it forwards, two of the guards at the gate quickly opened it to let the horse through, the hinges creaking slightly under the weight of the gates. The horse cantered off down the road, startling the birds from the shrubs into the air. Clouds of loose dust followed the legs of the thundering gelding. Reds, greens and blues flourished around them as the landscape flew past, the saddle chimed as Amellius pressed the horse onwards. Lilybaeum appeared on the horizon, the once Carthaginian town had combined both cultures, with the typical sand coloured Carthaginian houses shadowed by the startlingly white Roman temples, forum and administration buildings. It was a strange looking place but marvellous nonetheless. As he approached the town the tang of fish reached his nose, he couldn’t wait to see the famed harbour of Lilybaeum, best for their ship builders and of course fishing fleet.

He slowed as he reached the gate; the two guards there crossed their pila across the gate to challenge the approaching horseman.

 “Identification please” The brawnier guard boomed.

 “Yes, of course” Amellius answered and showed his senatorial ring. The guard leaned over to inspect the ring, then smiled and leaned back.

 “Welcome to Lilybaeum Praetor” Said the guard, they uncrossed their pila and saluted as Amellius passed.

 Amellius headed straight towards the centre of the city. Vendors shouted from every street corner trying to get the crowds to buy their confectionaries and snacks. The townspeople walked on stepping stones above the filth of the street, left by the horses, donkeys and oxen that entered the city every day. Women stood on balconies overlooking the street laughing and joking with each other, some of them stopped and pointed as the Praetor passed, the purple stripe on his toga standing out against the other bright colours of the town. New smells of fresh olive bread and cheese met his nostrils after he passed several food sellers which the poor bought their food from as they couldn't spend money on cooking food themselves.