Free Hannibal: Clouds of War by Ben Kane Page B

belly.’
    ‘Something she ate, surely?’
    ‘I doubt it. I’ve eaten everything she has, and I am fine.’ He glanced up the street. ‘Can we go?’
    Aurelia scooped up Publius and followed Agesandros. She’d seen the look in Elira’s eyes when he’d mentioned eating Atia’s food, so it wasn’t just her who had imagined the worst. ‘Is Mother worried about being poisoned?’ People’s heads turned at the mention of the word ‘poison’, but she didn’t care.
    ‘Not at all. It’s a coincidence that we had shared the same dishes.’
    Not the food then. Her mother only ever drank water from a spring, so it wasn’t that either, Aurelia decided. ‘Has a surgeon attended her?’
    ‘This morning. His visit is the reason that I came to fetch you.’
    Real worry began to gnaw at her. ‘Why? What did he discover?’ Agesandros didn’t answer, and Aurelia increased her stride to catch up with him. Publius bounced up and down, gurgling with delight at what he thought was a race. ‘Agesandros. What did he say?’
    He regarded her dispassionately. ‘Your mother ordered me not to talk about it. She wants to tell you herself.’
    ‘I see.’ Aurelia’s lips set in a thin line, but inside she had begun to panic. This kind of behaviour from her mother was unheard of. She took a deep breath, bestowed a warm smile on Publius. ‘We’ll see Granny soon, my darling!’ To Agesandros, she said, ‘Let us get there quickly.’
    Apart from Publius, they made the rest of the journey in grim silence.
    Atia sat up in the bed as Aurelia opened the door and made an effort to smooth down the rumpled bedclothes. ‘Aurelia. Publius! How’s my little soldier?’
    ‘G-anny! G-anny!’ Publius hurled himself on to the bed and into Atia’s embrace.
    Aurelia gazed approvingly at the reunion, but she was struggling to conceal her shock. To find her mother abed at this hour was unusual enough, but in a darkened room, and looking like this? In the seven days since Aurelia had last seen her, Atia had aged a decade or more. The poor light could not conceal her grey complexion, nor the fact that her sharply delineated cheekbones were bare of their usual dusting of ochre. Her black hair, normally held up and behind her head, hung in limp tresses on either side of her haggard face. ‘How are you, Mother?’ she said, hating the stupidity of the question.
    A wan smile. ‘I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse. It will pass, with the help of the gods.’ Atia stroked Publius’ head. ‘Would you like a sweet pastry, my little soldier?’
    ‘Yes! Yes!’
    ‘Run along to the kitchen then. Ask the cook if he has anything for you.’
    Aurelia let a beaming Publius push past her before moving entirely into her mother’s bedchamber. Her nose twitched with distaste. ‘It’s so stuffy. When was the last time you aired the place? It can’t be healthy for you to be stuck in here all hours of the day. Come out to the courtyard. It’s a lovely morning. Fresh air will do you good.’
    Without a word, Atia lifted the blanket and swung her legs towards the floor. They too had become thin.
    Suddenly, Aurelia felt old. Whether her mother realised it or not, their relationship had changed. She had become the carer, and Atia the patient. Whatever the outcome of her mother’s illness, their roles would never fully be reversed. It was a natural evolvement in the parent-child relationship, she realised, but not one she welcomed at this particular moment. She held out her hand to Atia and together they walked outside. The daylight did her mother no favours. Aurelia fought her rising concern. The bags under Atia’s eyes were as deep as craters; she stooped now rather than walked upright. It won’t be anything serious, Aurelia told herself. Mother is as strong as an ox; she’s never ill. She guided Atia carefully to the wooden bench by the step that led from the colonnaded walkway into the courtyard. The spot caught the sunshine; it was her