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A step ahead of him, Suniaton nearly collided with a carpenter carrying several long cypress planks. Rather than apologise, he thumbed his nose and sprinted towards the citadel walls, now only a hundred paces away. Stifling his desire to finish the job by tipping over the angry tradesman, Ha
A moment later, they passed under the immense ramparts, which were thirty paces deep and taller than eight men standing on each other's shoulders. Like the outer defences, the wall was constructed from great quadrilateral blocks of sandstone. Regular coats of whitewash ensured that the sunlight bounced off the stone, magnifying its size. Topped by a wide walkway and with towers every fifty steps, the fortifications were truly awe-inspiring. And the citadel was only a small part of the whole. Ha
Home to nearly a quarter of a million people, the city was also worthy of a second look. Directly below them lay the Agora, the large open space which was bordered by the Senate, government buildings and countless shops. It was the area where residents gathered to do business, demonstrate, take the evening air, and vote. Beyond it lay the unique ports – the huge outer, rectangular merchant harbour, and the i
Ha
Unsurprisingly, Ha
Suniaton turned. 'Have you eaten?'
Ha
'Me too. That was hours ago though.' Suniaton gri
'Good idea,' Ha
The streets descending Byrsa Hill did not follow the regular layout of the summit, instead radiating out so many tributaries of a meandering river. There were far more shops and businesses visible now: bakers, butchers and stalls selling freshly-caught fish, fruit and vegetables stood beside silver and coppersmiths, perfume merchants, and glass blowers. Women sat outside their doors, working at their looms, or gossiping over their purchases. Slaves carried rich men past in litters or swept the ground in front of shops. Dye-makers' premises were everywhere, their abundance due to the Carthaginian skill of harvesting the local murex shellfish and pounding its flesh to yield a purple dye which commanded premium prices all over the Mediterranean. Children ran hither and thither, playing catch and chasing each other up and down the regular sets of stairs which broke the street's steep descent. A group of Libyan soldiers clattered past, a richly dressed Carthaginian officer in their midst. He was wearing a bell-shaped helmet with a thick rim and a yellow horsehair crest, scale armour, and bronze greaves. An expensive-looking cloak was fastened at his right shoulder by a gold brooch wrought in the shapes of a horse's head alongside a palm tree, two of Carthage's sacred symbols. Recognising the officer, who was probably on his way to the very meeting he was supposed to be attending, Ha
Dozens of figures – large and small – were ranked on low tables. Ha
Ha