Shadow and Dust. Harry Sidebottom

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       Copyright

       Harper

      an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

      1 London Bridge Street

      London SE1 9GF

       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2016

      Copyright © Harry Sidebottom 2016

      Cover design by Claire Ward © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2016

      Cover photographs © Stephen Mulcahey/Arcangel Images (Soldiers); Shutterstock.com (dagger)

      Harry Sidebottom asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

      This short story is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it, while at times based on historical events and figures, are the work of the author’s imagination.

      All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

      Ebook Edition © April 2016 ISBN: 9780007499977

      Version: 2016-03-24

       Pulvis et Umbra Sumus

      Horace, Odes IV. 7

      Table of Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Copyright

       Dedication

       Chapter I

       Chapter II

       Chapter III

       Chapter IV

       Chapter V

       Chapter VI

      

       Chapter VII

      

       Chapter VIII

      

       Chapter IX

      

       Chapter X

      

       Afterword

      

       About the Author

      

       Also by Harry Sidebottom

      

       About the Publisher

       I

       Carthage,

      Ten Days after the Ides of March, AD238

      Faraxen lay on the roof of the warehouse. The smell of fish from the ponds and the gutting sheds was strong in his nostrils.

      Another centurion and Mauricius, the commander of the cavalry, were with Faraxen. They had left their helmets downstairs, where the other officers waited, and they had wrapped themselves in hooded cloaks whose colours were faded like the mudwalls of the compound. The roof was flat, and had a raised edge. If they made no sudden movements, the three men were near invisible from a distance.

      Off to the south-east, to the left, beyond the aqueduct was the necropolis, and beyond the tombs stood the gates and walls of Carthage. The tall battlements were crowded with spectators. It was a gaudy throng, as if at a festival. Musicians and food vendors made their way among them. The townsfolk were fools, Faraxen thought. Fools because they treated the coming battle as if it were no more than a spectacle, just another trip to the amphitheatre or circus, some entertainment put on for their amusement. Their minds and bodies had been corrupted by peace and security, by the luxury and vice of the city. If the Gordiani lost today, the people of Carthage would find that war was more than a show.

      Looking straight ahead, the plain immediately in front of the jumble of walls and buildings around the commercial fishponds was empty. The right flank of the army was some three hundred paces distant. The main body, a solid phalanx of infantry, stretched away from Faraxen, running parallel to the aqueduct, and facing west. Its left wing was anchored to the villa of Sextus far off in the south.

      Over eight thousand men, another two thousand armed with bows and slings out in front. If you did not know war, it would be impressive.

      It

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