“Meanwhile,” he resumed, with a humorous twinkle in his eye, “let us now raise a brimming goblet to Tanais the dear sweet goddess of love herself. What sayest thou, my pretty widow Cœcilia—they say that Tanais hath no more devoted votary than thee—wilt thou not drain a cup with us?”
Not only the flirting little princess, but everyone present, including Hannibal himself, who was no anchorite, drained their wine-cups to the dregs, Maharbal and Elissa looking deep down into each other’s eyes as they drank. And the afternoon and night were passed in happiness, music, and song, and all was gaiety and rejoicing, both in the palace and camp, at the return of Hannibal from Saguntum.
CHAPTER IX.
A LAUGH AND A LIFE.
All was now animation in Saguntum. The winter had passed and the place was full of troops, for Hannibal was now using the city as his base of operations against all the Iberian tribes living across the Iber or Ebro.
Elissa and Maharbal had been long since ruthlessly torn apart, the latter swearing to his dear lover, for it was impossible to consider her as his wife, that Melania should be as a sister to him and nothing more. But Hannibal, careless of anybody’s feelings, even his own, so that the business of the State was advanced, had soon perceived that the occasional meetings which took place between his daughter and her lover Maharbal were disturbing to them both, and thus upsetting to his calculations. He, therefore, took an opportunity one day when Maharbal was busy exercising the large body of Numidian Cavalry now under his command, of paying an unexpected visit to the house that he had given to the young warrior.
Entering quietly, he found the beautiful young Iberian girl sitting in the most forlorn position, weeping violently. Very few questions won from the reluctant damsel the position of affairs, and the anger of the great Chief was aroused. For Maharbal, faithful to Elissa, and being but her’s alone, was not obeying his General’s commands to make Melania perfectly happy, since it was not the love of a brother, which was all that Maharbal had given her, that would fill her yearning heart. There had been a short and sharp interview between the Chief and his Commander of Numidians, and a few days later, it being now early in the autumn, Maharbal and Melania had been sent away, with a large force as escort, to travel by easy stages on an embassy to her uncle Andobales, King of the Ilergetes. And from the time that they had left New Carthage the face of the young maiden had brightened.
The description of the Court of Andobales, where Melania and Maharbal remained all the winter and early spring, is not here necessary, but the result of the embassy is a matter of history. Moved by the representations of Melania, by the munificent presents of Hannibal, and the fact that Melania was the affianced bride of one of the most powerful chiefs of the Carthaginian army, the closest compact of friendship was entered into between both Andobales and his brother Mandonius with the Carthaginians, which treaty of friendship was of the greatest advantage to Hannibal at that time, and faithfully respected by the Iberians so long as they were treated with proper consideration. Before, however, the treaty was absolutely ratified, the General Hasdrubal was sent by Hannibal on a further mission to Andobales to see the exact position of affairs. On his return, the report that he gave to his brother the great Commander was most satisfactory. But the information that he carried to his niece Elissa, which was purposely coloured and false, tore the poor girl’s heart with frantic jealousy, for it left not the slightest room for doubt as to the state of the relations now existing between the man whom she insisted, in spite of her father’s absolute disavowal of any marriage, was her husband, and the daughter of Mandonius. For Hasdrubal brought back the news that Melania was making Maharbal as happy as possible, and further that she was likely to become a mother. After hearing this intelligence, Elissa was both enraged and jealous to frenzy; moreover, she suffered the more bitterly in her spirit from the fact that no such good fortune, for so she would have indeed considered it, had fallen to herself. She felt it all the more, since, moved by her unhappy looks and frequent tears, and perhaps by the fact that the treaty of friendship he desired was now established with the tribes of the Ilergetes, Hannibal had one day told her that, had there been any such an eventuality where she herself was concerned, he would have thrown over his tool Melania, and, notwithstanding his previous refusal, have ratified his own daughter’s irregular connection with Maharbal simply in order to legitimatise her offspring. But this opportunity of gaining her heart’s desire was for poor Elissa lost, and possibly her astute father would never have told her, at this time, what he would have done, had he not already known that there would not be any chance of his having to keep his word.
Elissa’s love of Maharbal was now turned, or she imagined that it was turned, to hatred, for, misled by Hasdrubal, she had no doubt of his infidelity, and did not in the least take into account the fact that that infidelity had been imposed upon him by her father’s commands. She, womanlike, only imagined that he had broken his vow of fidelity to herself. And this thing she could not forgive!
Meanwhile, the King of the Ilergetes wrote to Hannibal requesting permission to have the nuptials of his niece and Maharbal celebrated, and to have the freedom which had been promised to Melania confirmed. Hannibal, with all the trickiness of the policy of those days, wrote in return that the marriage should be celebrated in Saguntum, and directed that the Numidian chief and his affianced wife should return for the purpose without delay to that city. He had not at heart the slightest intention of fulfilling either promise, but proposed to keep the girl really, although not nominally, as a hostage for the good behaviour of her relations. Thus State reasons influenced him again to the sacrifice of the personal feelings of the sweet-natured Melania, whom it had suited his purpose to make a plaything of in every way.
Fortunately for the great Commander’s reputation for good faith, and for the feelings of Melania herself, she was spared the indignity of the wrongs that would undoubtedly have been put upon her had she reached Saguntum alive. For death came suddenly and unexpectedly to take her away at a time when she could die happily in the arms of the man whom she loved. An accident that occurred to her by the fall of her mule over a precipice in crossing the mountains caused her sudden and early death. Maharbal had scarcely reached her where she lay crushed and mangled at the foot of a dark ravine, when she became unconscious, and passed peacefully away. And she was buried on the side of the mountain where she died.
Thus did Melania, who had never harmed a living soul, escape, by the will of Providence, from a world in which, had she lived longer, she would have undoubtedly only experienced many and bitter trials, of which the enmity of her former friend, Elissa, would have been by no means the least.
But her removal from Elissa’s path by no means lessened the feeling of resentment that burned in the bosom of Hannibal’s daughter against her ex-lover, Maharbal.
He, poor fellow, did not deserve the resentment, for he adored her still, as he had ever done. He had certainly, while obeying his Chief’s orders, learnt to appreciate Melania’s devotion to himself, especially as he had always had an affection for her, in which, however, passion had had no part.
Maharbal had been only three days in Saguntum, when going out to review the large body of Iberian and Numidian Cavalry, mounted upon his war horse, which, on account of his own great size, was an enormous animal, he was proceeding down the main street of the city. He was a magnificent sight, reminding the spectator of Apollo, the sun god, as, with a golden helmet, and wearing the most magnificent armour, he, on his mighty black charger, preceded his brilliant staff of officers. Suddenly he espied Elissa, the woman who had been as a wife to him, and who should, but for the great Hannibal’s invincible will, have been actually his wife, coming down the street in the opposite direction. She was on foot, and followed by several maidens, accompanied also by a couple of young gallants about the court, who were highly honoured at being seen in her company by so many noble officers. Raising his hand, Maharbal halted the officers behind him. Dismounting, he courteously saluted the woman whom he had saved from Adherbal, and who had been, and still was, everything to him.
“And how doth the Lady Elissa?” he demanded, his eyes aglow with the delight he felt on seeing her. “By all the gods of Carthage she hath a right royal mien, and it doth the heart of Maharbal good to see her once more.”
Elissa deliberately turned her back upon him. Addressing one of the young men of her escort, she remarked in a voice which was intentionally raised so that all present could hear it:
“What a number of these stranger officers of the mercenaries there are in the town just now. But surely someone should give them a lesson in manners; they should be taught that ladies of rank are not to be addressed in the streets by uncouth barbarians whom they do not know.”
Then, with a little bitter laugh, she sauntered on without once glancing at Maharbal. A loud titter was heard from all the maidens, following their mistress’s example; from the two young nobles also, and, worst of all, from the officers of Maharbal’s own staff.
But one of the latter not merely tittered, but laughed outright. He was a certain Idherbal, a right valiant officer, who had considered himself much slighted when Maharbal had been appointed over his head to the command of the Numidians. And there was not a man or woman there but knew well what was, doubtless, considered the diverting history of the loves of Elissa and Maharbal. Therefore, they considered a laugh at the unexpected insult and rebuff given by Elissa to her lover quite excusable.
Not so Maharbal. Bounding upon his war-horse, his face all aflame, the young man drew his sword.
“Defend thyself, oh, Idherbal,” he cried, “for ’tis the first and last time thou shalt ever laugh at Maharbal!”
The other drew his sword rapidly, and, waiting until he did so, Maharbal charged him. Idherbal struck a mighty blow as he approached, but Maharbal, bending to his horse’s neck, and, with all the skill of the famed Numidian riders, throwing his whole body on the further side of his steed, the sword met no resistance, but only whistled through the air. Back in his saddle in an instant, Maharbal, still crouched low, lunged home with the point of his weapon at the joint in the armour beneath his antagonist’s arm. The blow told; but, even as the red blood spurted out, the young giant withdrew his sword, and, with a second blow—a terrible, sweeping cut—caught Idherbal just below the helmet at the neck. The wretched man’s head, helmet and all, flew spinning off into the middle of the street, while his body fell on the other side.
“Here, sirrah!” cried Maharbal to the young noble who had been addressed by Elissa, who, with all her companions, had been forced to turn and watch the rapid and bloody conflict, “come hither instantly.”
Tremblingly the young man approached Maharbal, and terrified he viewed his bloody sword. For he also had been a laugher, and feared his own instant death.
“Take up that head,” he commanded, in a loud voice. “It is the head of Idherbal, the son of Mago.”
The young man submissively picked up the bloody head, bleeding in its casque, of the man who had been living and laughing like himself but a minute previously.
“Present the head to the Lady Elissa,” he said, “and ask her whether or no it be the head of one of the stranger officers of the mercenaries who hath dared to insult her by laughing at her words without first having with her a proper acquaintance. Inform her that there are plenty more useless heads about—thine own, for instance. Go!” he thundered, “and that instantly,” as the young man hesitated, “or I will depute someone else to carry both Idherbal’s head and thine own to the Lady Elissa.”
This was quite enough for the young noble. So terrible was the look in Maharbal’s eye that the face of everyone present, as well as his own, was blanched with fear. He rushed to Elissa and deposited the terrible emblem of the sanguinary conflict at her feet.
Maharbal rode to where she stood. With his bloody glaive he pointed first to the head at her feet, then to the trunk from which the blood was still oozing, forming a large crimson pool on the highway.
“See what thy laugh hath cost, Elissa,” quoth he. “Thou hast caused the death of a brave man, who was full of health and vigour, full of hope and happiness, only two minutes ago. That life which hath now gone to Eternity might just as well have been mine own. Thou little fool! I loved thee before, but now I hate thee for having been the cause of my shedding innocent blood. Get thee gone home; never let me see thy fair face again, since I have killed a man simply for its contemptuous smile! Art thou satisfied with thy work? Begone, Elissa, I say, begone, Hannibal’s daughter, or I will slay thee, too, for all that thou hast been to me, even as my wife! For thou art a dangerous woman. Begone, I say!”
Again Maharbal thundered these last words in such a terrible tone that everyone in the street trembled before him. He was well known for his bravery in battle; but no one had ever seen him in the fiercest conflict aroused like this. Even his followers tried vainly each to get behind his fellow, so terrified of his fearful anger was each and every one. As for Elissa herself, she at that moment once more loved Maharbal quite as much as she feared him, and loved him all the more because she did so fear him. Trembling, she fell upon her knees in the street before him, towering there on his war-horse, and looking the very picture of vengeance. Everyone else, from the great and sudden fear of the commander, who had showed so well his power to prove his strength, and right to command by force of arms, and from respect for the great Hannibal’s daughter, had now fallen back and out of earshot, so her words were heard by him alone.
“My lord Maharbal,” she said, with hands uplifted, “forgive me; I am but a woman, and I have dearly loved thee. I have given myself to thee, and proved my love. I have since foolishly hated thee; and by mine infamous conduct to-day, which hath, alas! been the cause of unhappy Idherbal’s death, I have proved my hate; and, indeed, I am much to blame, and grieve sorely for what hath happened. My lord! all thy suite can see me humbly kneeling to thee here, and Hannibal will hear of it as well, but ere I rise I ask thee for thy forgiveness, for thou art before heaven mine own lord, mine only love. And all the vows I made to thee shall last until my dying day; unless, that is,” she added reflectively, “some great need of our mutual country should ever compel me to sacrifice myself in the country’s cause. But know this, I love thee—I love thee, my lord and husband Maharbal.”
Maharbal sprang from his horse, and flung his bloody weapon into the street. He seized her in his mighty arms, lifting her bodily from the ground, and kissed her on the lips and on both cheeks. Picking up his sword, he then addressed the officers of his suite.
“Whoever there may be among ye who would smile at his commander let him now smile. And I will meet him here on foot in mortal combat before the Lady Elissa, who is my wife.”
But none smiled!
Hannibal was extremely displeased when he heard of the occurrence, for he could not afford to have his best officers killing each other on the eve of a campaign, simply owing to his daughter’s foolish behaviour. Therefore he instantly sent Elissa back to New Carthage without allowing her to see Maharbal again, and they were not to meet for years.
END OF PART II.
PART III.
CHAPTER I.
SOSILUS AND CHŒRAS.
Hannibal was resting in his house in Saguntum a few days after having sent Elissa back to New Carthage. He had, prior to the scene depicted in the last chapter, overrun a portion of the country north of the Ebro, and Hasdrubal, his brother, was still engaged in prosecuting the campaign against all the Spanish tribes of Northern Iberia, to whom the Romans, wishing to have a hold of Spain, had promised protection. As Hannibal was presiding over his wine at an informal gathering of some of his friends and officers, he was a noble figure of a man. Not very tall, he was, having very broad shoulders, nevertheless, of extremely athletic bearing, being built in a sinewy mould. His chest was large, his biceps wiry and largely developed, his wrists small, but like iron. His legs were one knotted mass of muscle without any superfluous flesh. His colouring was fair, indeed ruddy; his eyes were blue and piercing; his hair was a dark shade of brown. His mouth, though firm, was rather large and humorous, his forehead high and commanding. Being clean shaved, his determined chin was remarkable. He looked, as he sat there, what he actually was—one of the very strongest men in the whole army. There was not, then, when he was still a comparatively young man, his equal for boxing, wrestling, or running long distances, in the whole of the Carthaginian forces, with the sole exception of Maharbal. He was the fairest man in the whole of the assembly, having inherited the colouring off his mother, who had come from a Gallic stock.
There were present with him at his table several people whose names are well known in history. Silenus, his constant companion, was of course there, also Chœras, who was a comic individual, good-tempered—a sort of buffoon, in fact, when it suited him to be amusing. Chœras was, however, an excellent versifier, and by no means a fool. Next to him sat Sosilus of Ilium, a pedant who bored everybody by his reference to learned books which nobody else cared anything about. There was also present a very different character, Hannibal Monomachus, who cared for nothing but warfare, and who delighted in slaying. He was, at present, head of the pioneers of the army. His skill was undeniable; but the methods that he employed at times were as rough and ready as the pickaxes of his own pioneers. In fact, he never minded how cruel he was when he considered cruelty necessary. He had had a considerable amount of training as a cavalry officer, and much preferred being on a war-horse at the head of his men, leading a furious charge into the midst of a body of the enemy, to building bridges and making roads. But Hannibal had somehow found out, with his singular capacity for judging men, that Monomachus had great engineering skill, and had, therefore, transferred him, for the time being, much to his disgust, from the more strictly combatant to the scientific branch of the service. He was now, therefore, what might be considered the general of engineers or sappers and miners.
The other soldiers present were Mago, the younger brother of the chief, and a high-spirited, brave young fellow; Hanno, a general of much experience; and last, but not least, at any rate in size, the Numidian commander Maharbal, who was the youngest man present.
Hannibal was in high good humour; news had come in that day of continued successes on the part of Hasdrubal in the provinces north of the Ebro, which he was over-running right up to the Pyrenees.
“Hast thou heard the news, Hanno?” quoth he. “Hasdrubal hath taken town after town. His last success seems to have been, after a brilliant cavalry action, in front of a city which he calls Appollonia. I only know of two Appollonias, the one in Illyria and the other in Assyria; I know not of this one.”
“I know it and to my cost, Hannibal,” replied General Hanno, “and so doth our friend Monomachus. When thou wast still quite young, and we pretty young too ourselves, thy father Hamilcar, upon whose spirit rest the blessing of the gods, took us both with him with a small flying column, thinking to take the place by a sudden surprise. Surprise there indeed was, but it was all the other way. The barbarians were waiting for us in a pass in the mountains, and it was but those of us who had the fleetest horses that escaped. The worst of it was, that Monomachus here had promised us an easy entrance to the place, owing to the treachery of a young Iberian woman of whom he had, so he thought, made a conquest. He mounted her on a horse with his cavalry of the advance guard, and a nice trap she led him into, for she took him right through the pass before the enemy, who closed behind him, and attacked us. How didst thou escape, Monomachus, by the bye? Thou wert the sole member of the advance guard who ever returned, that I well remember. But we did not see thee for days.”
“Escape!” growled out Hannibal Monomachus, “easily enough, though I nearly died of starvation first. The instant I saw the treachery I seized the accursed girl, and, under a pretence of saving her life, placed her on my steed, and rode off with her into a wood. There, after first stripping her of all her clothing, for fear that the raiment should be besoiled with blood, I cut her throat, but slowly only, letting her life’s blood fall drop by drop. I tied her to a tree, and watched her die in fact, while expounding unto her all the maxims of virtue, the point of which was that she would have done better to run straight in every sense of the word. When at length she was quite dead, I attired myself in her raiment, and being then a beardless boy, escaped under the guise of a woman, after many wanderings. A curse I say upon that place Appollonia! I hope to all the gods that Hasdrubal hath not left either man nor woman living there, especially the women.”
“Most excellent Monomachus,” here cut in Sosilus of Ilium, “I have listened with great interest to this thy not altogether unprecedented description of the pitfalls into which man may sometimes fall through the snare of woman. But I can cite thee a somewhat similar instance. I have no doubt but that all our distinguished company here present under Hannibal’s roof will have read a certain treatise entitled ‘Woman and her Wiles,’ written by one Onesimus of Syracuse. It was the only thing that he ever wrote, for he was strangled by Hiero for writing it, since it concerned that monarch’s mistress, Melissa by name. But the treatise was so carefully designed, so prettily elaborated, and so excellently carried through, that it seemeth to me, although ’twas slightly scandalous indeed, that had Hiero been but a man of humour, he would, instead of strangling Onesimus, rather have promoted him to the post of chief librarian. The treatise was divided into three parts. ‘Woman as an attraction for man,’ was the first part; ‘Woman as a pitfall for man,’ was the second part; ‘Woman as the accursed and faithless traitress of man,’ was the third part. Now, the first part commenced by a very erudite discussion upon the animal passions, and very lengthy but still not uninstructive arguments as to whether woman most attracteth man or man most attracteth woman. I remember well a remark on this subject that was most pertinently quoted. It was of the Greek writer Eulikmartes, and to the effect that—”
“Monomachus was a fool,” here cut in Chœras, with a loud guffaw, and all the rest of the company, who were tittering at the meanderings of the erudite Sosilus, were pleased at the interruption.
“Yes, just so, Chœras,” remarked Hannibal. “I know, at all events, that had I been in his shoes, and while being led through the nose by a woman—which, alas! hath sometimes been my case—myself led in turn my followers into a trap, I should have considered that I, too, had been a fool. But he was young—like Maharbal here is now.”
“Ay, my lord Hannibal,” answered Chœras, “Maharbal is no exception; he is ever over-confiding in loving also. But here is a verse which I think applies to the case quite as well as the long-winded reflections of Sosilus:
“Nought of girls knew Monomachus.
Nought from female wiles can shake us.
One who thousand lives hath ta’en
Ofttimes is through woman slain.”
A round of applause greeted this spontaneous outburst of Chœras, and the pedant was snuffed out.
“Maharbal,” quoth Hannibal, when the merriment had died down and the wine cups had been replenished, “doth this not indeed a little remind thee of thine own case? Mightest not thou thyself have been slain, and only last week, solely for the bright eyes of a woman—ay, even mine own daughter, Elissa? But, instead of falling, thou hast deprived me for ever of the services of one of my most excellent officers, poor Idherbal; I pray thee earnestly not to do so again.”
Maharbal sat silent under the well-merited reproach.
“My lord Hannibal,” quoth Sosilus, “this remark of thine remindeth me exactly of a verse I once read when I was but a boy; it was written by an author who lived at Tyre, and was named Pygmalion, after the king, who was the brother of Dido. He was a writer who possessed a great amount of erudition, and had considered several cases much resembling that of Maharbal here, who, somewhat too rashly, albeit to preserve his own honour, in the most chivalrous way slew Idherbal the other day in the street. Now to get back to Pygmalion. He said—yet I must remember in which of his books it was; I think in the thirteenth stanza of his nineteenth volume.”
“Oh, confound his books!” said Chœras, again rudely interrupting the learned man. “I will tell thee what he said, oh, Sosilus. Was it not something like this?—
“Maharbal was in a sense
Bound to seek some recompense.
He was mocked at, and the crowd
Echoed out the laugh aloud.
Thus the warrior lit and drew
Forth his blade—the scoffer slew.
Once more woman by her wiles
Sent a soul to Heaven’s smiles.”
“Bravo, Chœras!” shouted out Mago, thumping on the table. “Thou art the boy for me, and if my lord and brother Hannibal will allow me, I will take thee with me, when first he deigns to give me a separate command somewhere or other. For by the gods, I like thy pithy verses—
“ ‘Once more woman by her wiles
Sent a man to Heaven’s smiles.’
But come, Maharbal, my lad, why sittest thou so glum thyself, while thou and Monomachus are giving us such a pleasant and instructive subject of conversation? Cheer up, lad, and join me in a cup of wine. What hast been thinking about while looking as melancholy as a dog about to be led out to execution? There are plenty more bright eyes besides those of my pretty niece Elissa in the world, and thou and I shall in our leisure moments oft pursue them together, that I’ll warrant thee. Or is it the excellent but unfortunate deceased young woman Melania of whom thou art thinking? Ah! there was a girl for thee if thou wilt, who would never have betrayed a man—nay, nor even a woman either. Thou shouldst give me thanks for having first put it into Hannibal’s head to give her unto thee; for by Melcareth, I saw her value from the first, and would gladly have had her as a companion myself. Her’s was a noble disposition.”
“What I am thinking about is this, oh Mago!” responded Maharbal, “that while echoing the praise that thou hast paid to poor Melania’s memory, which is well deserved, it seemeth to me that the conversation hath, with all due deference to Hannibal, been concerned quite long enough either with women or myself, and that now it would be far better if we could get back to some subject that is important at the moment, such as the news of the Iberian war, or the attitude of the Romans now that they know not only that we have taken Saguntum, but further, in direct defiance of the treaty the late Hasdrubal made with them, that we have crossed the Iber, and are hunting their allies about like foxes to their dens in the mountains.”
“Well spoken, Maharbal, my lad!” quoth Hannibal; “I will join thee and Mago in that cup of wine—’tis some that the rascal Adherbal brought to New Carthage, and most excellent. And, here is my hand upon it, this is the last that thou shalt ever hear from me of that little matter of the slaying of Idherbal the other day. For thou art, indeed, a warrior after my own heart, and I honestly agree with Chœras that as a soldier under the circumstances
“ ‘Maharbal was in a sense
Bound to seek some recompense.’
And thou didst seek it, and gained it also very effectively all round that day, if what I heard is true. But now, there is the hand of Hannibal, the matter is closed. And as to Elissa herself, we will see later, after the war, for I am just about to disclose to thee my plans, after hearing which thou wilt wish no marriage now.”
The two warriors stood up, and, both equally fearless and determined men, looked each other straight in the eyes, while Maharbal held, in a grip of iron in his gigantic hand, the far smaller but equally strong hand of his commander, which returned the grasp with equal strength.
With his disengaged hand Maharbal lifted the golden wine cup.
“I pledge thee, Hannibal, my commander, and, by the gods, wish thee success in all thy plans and undertakings. May I, Maharbal, ever be with thee! Ay, to the death, if need be. As for thy daughter, if there be manly work before me, then, let that matter stand over, for I seek not marriage before a war—I wish not to leave a widow.”
Raising his cup also to his lips, Hannibal replied:
“I pledge thee, my noble friend and servant, Maharbal, the son of Manissa; good work hast thou done already, despite thy youth, and doughty deeds shalt thou do again, for soon will come the opportunity, and, if thou wilt, thou shalt indeed be with me, ay, and I with thee, to the death in our country’s cause.”
Silence fell upon all present as these two noble soldiers of Carthage drained their wine-cups over this sacred compact, for such it was, of eternal fidelity on Maharbal’s part, and of eternal protection and fatherly love on the part of the great commander.
And it was a compact that was never broken.
“Now,” said Hannibal, when they had resumed their seats, “I have much tidings to impart unto ye all, and as it is of serious moment, I shall have to ask the learned Sosilus to spare us all learned dissertations upon similar cases which may occur to his mind.”
Here there was a laugh at the learned man’s expense, in which the worthy pedant, who knew full well his own failing, joined. But he could not resist an answer.
“It seemeth to me, most noble Hannibal, that thou art fully justified in asking for no further reference to learned books, when thou art in the very act thyself of making history for future generations. There is a similar instance in history when Alexander the Great was sitting at his council table previous to crossing over into Egypt. I got the anecdote from a very valuable little book written by one, Euxon, an Athenian. One of his councillors, thus saith the worthy Euxon, was, with many references to books, drawing parallel cases, and suggesting certain methods laid down as having been followed by other conquerors before him, when the great king, Alexander, rising in a stately manner, remarked—”
“Hold thy peace!” said Chœras, “even as Hannibal is about to remark now, which is a parallel case, an thou wilt.”
The pedant subsided, crushed once more. Hannibal joined the others in the laugh, but said:
“And thou also, Chœras, wilt have to keep thy witty tongue in thy head as well. And now to business.”
CHAPTER II.
A GIGANTIC SCHEME.
“I have various news,” said Hannibal; “and, first of all, I must inform ye that I have letters from Carthage. The receipt of the enormous booty which I sent thither hath moved all the popular party in my favour. The death of Adherbal and Ariston by crucifixion at New Carthage, after their infamous attempt at treachery to the real welfare of their country and upon my daughter’s honour, hath thrown all their adherents into dismay. They have not, therefore, been listened to at all in the Senate; and recently, when Quintus Fabius Maximus, the head of the Roman envoys, asked for my head—which, in spite of the vain boastings of Adherbal, is still safe and sound upon my shoulders—it was wisely denied him. Further, the said Fabius appears to have boastfully held up his toga saying, ‘The head of Hannibal and peace, or else keep ye your Hannibal and take war. I hold the fate of Carthage for peace or war in the folds of this toga.’ The Hundred were, it seems, frightened at his threats, but calmly replied, ‘Give us what ye will.’ ‘War be it, then!’ declared the said Fabius, and he hath departed now with all his suite for Rome.”
“Then we are in for war with the Romans,” remarked Maharbal gleefully. “By the gods, I am right glad; so now I know the meaning of thy recent words, Hannibal.”
“And I, too, am glad,” quoth General Hanno.
“I, likewise,” said Monomachus, “am overjoyed, most noble Hannibal, that the time for revenge hath come. May it be a long war and a bloody one! I am longing to plunge my arms up to the armpits in Roman blood. I suppose we may now soon have to expect their legions over here in Iberia? Well, we have, at any rate, the fleet and command of the sea, thus it will be more of a sea war than a land war, I reckon. But we shall have plenty of fighting here on land also.”
“My generals,” quoth Hannibal, “I am glad to see in ye this spirit, which, indeed, I expected upon learning these most momentous tidings. But learn this, that so far as all of us here at present assembled are concerned, the war with the Romans will be neither a sea war nor a war to be waged in Spain. It will be a war in Italy itself, for I intend to attack the proud Romans in their own country, without waiting to give them an opportunity of looking us up here. And know this, further, I have for long secretly been making preparations for the invasion of Italia.”
A silence fell upon those assembled. At length spake Hanno:
“Italia! the war to be in Italia! Then thou wilt, indeed, attack Rome on Roman soil—a most momentous determination. And where wilt thou disembark thy forces, most noble Hannibal? In one of the northern Etruscan ports? or wilt thou rather land somewhat further to the north, in the country of the Cis-Alpine Gauls. Thus couldst thou form thy base of operations in a country hostile to Rome; for all the Gauls have been terribly punished by the Romans in this recent war, and they would readily become thine allies.”
“Thou hast a most strategical mind, Hanno,” replied the Commander; “but learn this, that for the very reason that thou hast suggested, namely, the hope of an alliance with the Gauls, I shall not go by sea at all, but by land. I shall, therefore, cross the Ebro, march through the country Hasdrubal is now subduing, then cross the Pyrenees, and marching along the coast all through Gallia, pass the river Rhodanus. Thence I shall make the transit of the Alps, and descend into the peninsula of Italia from its north-western corner. This will bring us right into the middle of the country of all the Cis-Alpine Gauls, with whose various nations I have, unknown to Rome, been concluding alliances for the past nine months or more.”
“An attack by land on Rome, marching from Saguntum in Spain! A mighty undertaking, indeed, oh Hannibal!” here interrupted Monomachus; “and one that, shouldst thou carry it out successfully, will make the world ring with thy fame for years, ay, for centuries to come. But hast thou thought it well out, and how serious an undertaking it is from the engineering difficulties? My department of the army will have to be largely strengthened in men and material. For, think it out! thousands of miles will have to be marched; two large mountain ranges, or including the Apennines, three, will have to be crossed; and how many rivers, I should like to know? including that mighty and rapid river, the Rhone, which thou hast mentioned. The Gauls, in that part of Gallia round its mouth at Massilia, have ever been the allies of Rome, and they will offer determined opposition, be assured of that, to our passage.”
“Ay, Monomachus, thine observations are all just, and I have thought of these things and thou wilt have thine hands full indeed, but there is a more serious question still that I would solve, and that is the question of food for the army. Canst thou help me to solve that, for I fear that provisions will be but scarce?”
“That is a simple matter enough,” replied the blood-thirsty warrior. “We can feed the army on the Gauls themselves, whose country we shall have to pass through. They will soon get accustomed to human flesh after a little training. I would indeed suggest that they commence to be taught at once. Thou mightest send word to Hasdrubal to send us in a large batch of prisoners for the purpose. Or stay,” he added reflectively, “there are a quantity of female slaves in camp for whom there can be no possible use if we are going to embark upon such a prolonged campaign. I would suggest that a commencement be made on them; they will be tenderer eating than Iberian mountaineers, and less repulsive to the stomach to begin upon.”
Hannibal and the other warriors stared aghast at this suggestion.
Chœras made a wry face and felt sick, for he knew well that the butcher Monomachus was quite capable of killing and eating anything or anybody. General Hanno took the suggestion seriously.
“I have never yet eaten human flesh,” he said, “but the Admiral of my own name, the Hanno who before the first Roman war made a voyage half round Western Africa, reported on his return that he met in his travels many nations who did so, killing and eating the prisoners they made in war. And these man-eaters were fierce and courageous people, too. It might therefore be tried in case of necessity, and even have a salutary effect upon the courage of the troops; but I see no use in practising upon our female slaves, or on the Iberian prisoners beforehand. But what thinkest thou thyself, Hannibal?”
Although Hannibal always did exactly what he intended to do himself, he nevertheless frequently paid his friends and generals the compliment of appearing to listen to their advice. He therefore answered:
“There is something in it, certainly; it is really not a bad idea at all. But I am rather of thy opinion, Hanno, that there is no occasion to start yet, while we are still in a land where sheep and oxen are plentiful.”
“My lord Hannibal,” said Sosilus, who had, during these remarks, been casting up some figures on a paper, “I have certain important facts to put before thee.”
“Speak out, oh Sosilus!” said his chief; “what hast thou to say?”
“I have this to say, that, according to the custom of war in all countries, I have been reckoning up the forces. Now, although my habit of reading everything that is ever written may be thought foolish, and, moreover, my habit of remembering and quoting the same may be thought more unnecessary still, the scoffers who laugh at me,” and he glared at Chœras, “are themselves those who should be considered asses. Now recently I came, after the slaughter at Saguntum, upon the body of one of the Roman officers who was being rifled by one of the mercenaries. I saw the man withdraw from the breast of this officer a roll of papers, which he contemptuously cast aside. I picked it up, and studied it with a view to embodiment in my treatise upon ‘Rome in her Relations to the Barbarians, Political, Social, and Military,’ of anything of importance that I could find therein. And this have I found therein, most noble Hannibal—that if thou wouldst attack Rome, the number of the forces of Rome and her various allies in Italia at the present moment amount to the astonishing and alarming number of no less than 700,000 infantry and about 70,000 cavalry. This was, of course, only the number reckoned available during the recent war against the Gauls in Cis-Alpine Gallia. But I can give it to thee, chapter and verse, an thou wilt. Actual Romans, say about forty-four thousand; Etruscans, fifty-four thousand; Sabines, also fifty-four thousand; Apulians, Picenians, Campanians, and Umbrians, in equal proportions, and so on. It is, however, scarcely necessary to give in detail all the allies. The total, during the recent Roman war with the Gauls, of men capable of bearing arms, was enumerated as I have stated. I have again, on the other hand, worked out here the number of forces which thou hast at thy command now in Iberia. Reckoning the enormous addition to the power of Carthage caused by the favourable result of the recent mission of our worthy young friend here Maharbal, I find that thou hast, at the very outside, available only about one hundred thousand men against the Roman seven hundred and seventy thousand. This seemeth to me a somewhat undue preponderance on the other side, especially when it hath to be considered that thou must leave a sufficient garrison to hold the whole of Spain, and likewise must despatch many troops over into Libya ere thou canst thyself take the field. My lord Hannibal, I am fully aware of the fact that the only advantage that I can be to thee, shouldst thou select me to accompany thee upon this war, will be that I may become thy historian; but still I would point out to thee that, according to Homer, to quote parallel cases, the inhabitants of Argos, before they set out for the siege of Troy, reckoned that—”
“Yes, yes, never mind Troy,” remarked Hannibal, dreading the parallel cases; “thine own information is very important and most opportune just now. I must have it all out chapter and verse later. Our troops are certainly very insufficient for the purpose as far as numbers go; but look at our training and the constant warfare in which we have been engaged. That is where we shall reap the advantage, even as did my father Hamilcar at Mounts Ercte and Eryx. But I intend to go. I intend to leave, perhaps for ever, this fair country of Iberia, where, if I would, I might be supreme king; this country where I have fought and loved—loved and fought ever since I was a mere boy—and I intend to humble the power of the accursed Romans or perish in the attempt. And I have thought out the way, and I shall do it. Ay, by the gods I shall do it! I will slay the Romans in their thousands, and upon their own soil too; I will avenge all the insults and the treachery they have put upon Carthage; and thou, Sosilus, shalt live to see it and chronicle it also, an thou wilt. At all events, thou shalt accompany me, for thy memory is so retentive, that when mine own fails thou shalt supply the deficiency.”
There was a slight pause here in the conversation, for the enormous disparity in numbers between the Roman and the Carthaginian forces likely to be opposed to one another gave rise, and naturally so, to much thought among those who were likely to be principal actors in the unequal war. Presently Silenus spoke. He was by birth a Macedonian Greek, a little dark man, young, and very wiry-looking, and well knit, with singularly sweet, engaging features.
“Hannibal,” he said, “of course since I have written all thy letters, I have known all about these alliances that thou hast been concluding with the Gauls, most of which, in my opinion, are of but doubtful value. But of other things, for instance, thine own private motives for undertaking this war in such a very remarkable way I know nothing. However, since thou hast assembled us all here in an informal manner around the wine bowl, and disclosed certain of thy plans, would it seem indiscreet of me were I to ask thee openly a question?”
“Ask anything thou choosest, and I will answer or not, as I see fit.”
“Well, then, I will before all enter into the question of General Hanno’s remarks—or was it Monomachus? I forget which—about invading Italia by sea, which, since we have the fleet, would naturally seem the easiest way. Well, Hannibal, wherefore, by all the gods of all the known world! shouldst thou, having got the fleet, enter upon this war, or rather this invasion of Italia, in such a hazardous manner by land, thus cutting thyself off as thou wilt do from all thy communications? Why not, instead of invading Italia—by doing which thou wilt be at a disadvantage—let the Romans come here, as they will, and attack us. Here thou knowest the ground and the people. Here by the recent alliance concluded through Maharbal and his affianced wife Melania, thou hast gained important allies—trustworthy, no doubt, while thou art here to watch them. Why then not stay here, where thou art supreme, and let the Romans come, and then destroy them in detail, instead of thrusting thyself, as thou must, with a comparatively small force into the midst of a terrible hornet’s nest against fearful odds? I would, in sooth, like to know thy reason, for although I offer no counsel, well-knowing thou takest counsel from no man, it may be instructive to all of us here present to know hereafter what are the reasons which impel thee to undertake this most wonderful—this most gigantic enterprise.”
CHAPTER III.
HANNIBAL’S DREAM.
Hannibal rose from his seat, called for a cup of wine, tasted it, put it down, walked up and down the room, sipped at his wine again as if in thought, before he replied. At last he answered:
“After deep thought I have decided. Well, I think that I may tell unto ye all my mission, for it is a mission of the gods. I cannot tell whether or no it may be ultimately successful, but of one thing am I assured, I shall, for a time, at all events, be the means of humbling this trebly accursed State of Rome, which is gradually diminishing all the ancient power of Phœnicia, and hath already wrested the whole of Sicily from her grasp in honest fight, and won also from the Punic rule, but by fraud, the fair isle of Sardinia.
“Listen now. I went, as ye all know, not long since—that is, directly after my return to New Carthage after we had captured this place, Saguntum—on a pilgrimage. That pilgrimage was to the temple of Melcareth in Gades. Now Gades is, perhaps, the oldest Phœnician settlement in the whole of Iberia. Its origin is so old that the records cannot tell whether the earliest inhabitants of Gades came from Tyre or from Sidon, but they are pure Phœnicians to this day, and as such worship the great invisible god Melcareth. Their language is not quite the same as our own, and is somewhat mixed with Greek—it hath, withal, a slight admixture of the Iberian tongue; but all their religious customs are most pure and holy. And the temple in Gades of the great god Melcareth is worthy in its architecture of all the highest civilisation of the country of Carthage as it was when I remember it as a boy. There is a peculiar solemnity about the temple, and upon first entering it I was struck by the evident presence of the omnipotent being. I fell upon my face, overpowered by this feeling, just within the threshold; but a hoary-headed priest came forward, raised me up, and, with comforting words, led me towards the altar. There, feeling all the time that I was actually in the presence of an omnipotent being, I accomplished my sacrifice, plunged my right arm in the blood, and renewed solemnly the oath which I made when but a boy of nine in the presence of my father Hamilcar. This oath was one of eternal hatred against the Romans, and of life-long effort to reduce the pride of these enemies of our country. I must tell ye, that having no son, I took with me my daughter Elissa, and made her swear the same oath as I swore when a boy. Closely veiled she was, and humble as becometh one worshipping the gods. I also made her vow to the gods that all her life she should devote herself to her country, even as had she been my son instead of my daughter, and that, henceforth, whatever the past had been, self was to be held of no account, but that her nation’s welfare was before everything to be considered. And I swore the same oath with her.
“The priests left us alone at length, in meditation on our knees before the altar of the almighty Melcareth. The sacrificial fire burned low, only an occasional gleam flared up from the glowing embers. Daylight faded away into utter darkness. Overcome by the sense of the solemnity of the holy place, and the soporific effect of the smoke and the simmering incense, both my daughter and myself fell upon our faces at length in a kind of stupor. Suddenly the whole gloom of the mighty fane became illumined with a brilliant light. My daughter and I both sprung up, and our eyes were dazzled as we saw the great god Melcareth appear in person before us. My daughter almost instantly sunk senseless before the divinity; but not so I. The god stretched out his hand towards me and uttered the following words:—
“ ‘Hannibal, son of Hamilcar, thou shalt avenge thy father’s misfortunes. Great shall be thy glory, but great also shall be thy downfall. Strive, nevertheless, strive to the end; thou shalt reap thy reward hereafter, and thy name shall never die. Yea, I am the great god Melcareth, who will ever have thee in my protection. In good days or in evil days rest upon my bosom, for even in the evil days I will be near thee, although thou seest me not. Now sleep, my son, sleep, and thy destiny shall be revealed unto thee by me in a dream.’
“Gradually the blazing light and the resplendent figure of the god faded away. I sank upon my face before the glowing altar fire and slept. And I dreamt a dream. At least it was not a dream that I dreamt, but a vision that I experienced.
“Suddenly I found myself translated into a wonderful dazzling abode of light, where, sitting in a beautiful garden, were present all the gods of Carthage. Melcareth was there, and Tanais. Towering above all the others stood Moloch, and fierce indeed and terrible was he of aspect, and yet he ever smiled and the fixed angry look upon his face ever relaxed when Tanais addressed him, which she did frequently. As for Tanais, whom we also call Astarte, no radiant vision of beautiful young womanhood that man’s soul or brain hath ever imagined can realise her excessive, delightful, and bewitching beauty.
“ ‘Moloch,’ quoth she, ‘Moloch, my well-beloved, be not angry, for I must embrace this Hannibal, the son of Hamilcar, although, indeed, he worshippeth thee and not me upon earth; yet, for all thy frowns, will I now take him to my bosom.’
“Then, although at first Moloch frowned, I saw him smile when she bade me approach, which I did without the least fear.
“ ‘Embrace me, Hannibal,’ she said; ‘I am the goddess Tanais, whom thy daughter Elissa worshippeth. Fear not Moloch; he loveth thee for all his frowns, for thou shalt give unto him many victims of the Roman people whom he loveth not, since they believe not in him. But I love all people alike, for I am the goddess of love, and love is in all nations. ’Tis I who plant the little seedling of love in each young maiden’s heart; ’tis I, too, who teach the warrior that there is one divinity yet more powerful than Moloch, and more—ay, far more fatal. For my votaries—ay, even the votaries of love—commit more crimes, more murders, more atrocities, more deceits, more robberies in my name in a month, than do all those of Moloch in a year. Thus is Moloch, who is mine own lover, yet jealous of me, although through me most mortals play into his hands. Yet so hast thou not done through me as yet, Hannibal, yet hath thy daughter Elissa already, and there are more victims to come to him through her. See! beneath Moloch’s hand, one is there.’ I looked, and saw the figure of Adherbal, the son of Hanno. I knew not how I knew him, but he it was—I knew it. And then Moloch spoke in a voice of thunder:
“ ‘Ay, ’tis true, Elissa! dost thou see? Thou shalt give me another victim soon.’ Turning, I saw Elissa behind me, standing as in a spirit form. I suppose now that the other victim to whom the god referred was that Idherbal, whom thou didst slay the other day, Maharbal. But after that I saw Elissa no more. Then the goddess Tanais drew me to her, and pressed me on her bosom, and kissed me, and breathed the spirit of divinity into me, while Moloch looked on, and smiling said,
“ ‘Ay, my fair queen of love! make love to him. I permit it this time, for he is beloved of me, indeed.’
“But she only laughed, and replied, ‘I make love to him because I love him, and not at all for thee, Moloch; dost thou not know that warriors are always beloved of women?’ Whereupon he frowned and turned away, while the goddess bade me kiss her, and fondled me again, but I feared her. Then she reproached me, with a gentle whisper in mine ear, that I did not show myself even in heaven a much more ardent devotee than on earth, although, she said, she knew that I worshipped occasionally at her shrine. But Melcareth coming forward, she released me from her embrace, and with Moloch retired. The other gods and goddesses also fell far behind, for Melcareth is king of heaven, and so grand, so powerful, and yet so placid, it seemeth as though all heaven and earth is in his single look. I trembled before him—ay, and fell to the ground; yet never had I so trembled before the terrible Moloch. Melcareth, the almighty one, touched me and I arose.
“ ‘Hannibal, son of Hamilcar,’ said he, ‘I have here ready a guide for thee who shall show thee the course that thou art to pursue. Now follow him, but stay; first bid farewell to Tanais, for thou wilt not henceforth have much time for the delights of love; thou must leave that to thy daughter, who is in the goddess’s especial favour.’
“The goddess Tanais once more took me in her arms and embraced me.
“ ‘Go,’ she said, ‘fight well for the might of Carthage, mine own beloved city. I will welcome thee back to my bosom some day. Meanwhile, do Moloch’s work—he loveth blood.’
“The god Moloch, still keeping in the background, waved his hand to me in token of farewell; then the great Melcareth simply touched me again, and I found myself flying through space side by side with a messenger like unto the Roman god Mercury, saving that he had no wings on head or feet, but merely moved onward by voluntary volition, as did I accompanying him.
“We travelled for a long time over lands, seas, rivers, and mountains. ‘See thou look not back,’ said my guide. But curiosity overcame me at length and I looked back. Awful was the sight I saw behind me. A huge, ghastly monster with fiery breath issuing from his mouth, having gigantic wings and horrid claws of iron on his feet, was following in our wake destroying everything we passed over as we sped by cities, houses, farms, and vineyards.
“ ‘What, oh, what is this terrible creature behind us?’ I asked of my spirit guide as we sped through the air.
“ ‘It is the devastation of Italia, oh Hannibal,’ said he. ‘See that thou dost march ever straight onwards, careless of this monster which shall ever follow in thy rear. Neither let rivers nor mountains, cultivated lands nor olive groves, meadows nor marshlands turn thee aside, but march thou onward ever straight through Italia from end to end, and leave the rest in the hands of the gods. So now I leave thee.’
“He left me as we were hovering over the roof of the temple of Melcareth in Gades. Shortly after, I awoke from what seemed a profound sleep before the altar, and arousing my daughter, who was still sleeping, I arose. For henceforth I knew my fate. It was to be the conquest and destruction of Italia. Now, my noble companions, ye know that if I invade the Roman dominions it is simply by the command of the gods—ay! at the divine will. I therefore have no choice but to overrun Italia from end to end.”
Hannibal ceased speaking, and silence fell upon all present. Every man there was a firm believer in the gods, therefore none of them doubted for an instant that a supernatural power was directing Hannibal to commence this immense undertaking, and would assist him in carrying it through against fearful odds.
Presently Mago spoke.
“ ’Tis evident indeed that thou hast a divine mission, oh my brother, and that it is to thyself invade, without waiting to be invaded. And thou hadst a wonderful vision, would to heaven that I had seen it, too. And did the queen of heaven and of love herself really embrace thee? Had it been me, then I vow by the sweet goddess herself that never again should mortal woman’s lips touch mine so long as I live.”
“A rash vow that of thine,” quoth Chœras,
“ ‘For sweet as wine are woman’s lips,
And who with each shall toy,
No sooner tasteth as he sips
But he would more enjoy.’
Yet ’tis a safe enough vow for thee to make under the circumstances. And verily I too believe that had such an honour been vouchsafed unto me by the blessed Tanais, our worthy friend Sosilus yonder would never again need to reproach me of being too fond of any mortal woman’s lips. But ’twas indeed a glorious vision which it was given unto our commander to behold; and now, knowing that he hath the protection of the gods, not only will he himself, but we his followers also, start with hope rising buoyant in our hearts upon such a march as the world hath hitherto never heard of, nay, nor dreamed of. I who, since from sheer idleness I came over from Carthage last year, have been but a mere volunteer on Hannibal’s staff, am so deeply impressed by what he hath told us, that I shall now ask his permission to enrol myself regularly under his flag. For with the noble mission that is so clearly marked out for him, who would not ask to follow him to death or glory? Prithee, Hannibal, wilt take me under thy colours as a regular soldier henceforth, for I, too, would fain march with thee to Italia?”
“Ay, willingly will I take thee, Chœras, and as many more Carthaginian nobles as may choose to come over and join us in striking at the same time a blow in defence of their country, and a blow at the prestige and power of Rome. Ay, readily will I enrol thee, and, since thou ridest well, I will appoint thee as one of Maharbal’s lieutenants in the Numidian Horse. Will that suit thee? and thee, too, Maharbal, wilt thou have Chœras? I found him efficient as a member of my staff, and a brave rider withal—with a bridle and a saddle, that is, but certainly not in the Numidian style, without either saddle or bridle, or with only a halter; of that he hath as yet had no experience. But thou wilt have to give him lessons, Maharbal, for, although ye commanders certainly ride not always in that fashion, yet no officer should be unable to do whatever his men can do. And of that thou, Maharbal, art indeed thyself a notable example. So now, Chœras, consider thy petition granted. Thou art appointed to the mounted branch of the service from this minute. Art thou satisfied?”
Chœras made a most gruesome and comical grimace.
“Many thanks, most noble Hannibal; but, since I am by thy favour to be appointed to the mounted branch of the service, and to learn to ride without a saddle or bridle, dost not think that it would be more seemly, and that there would be somewhat less chance of my coming to an untimely end at the very beginning of the war, were I appointed to the elephant corps? I might, moreover, take Sosilus up behind me to remind me of parallel cases, as applied to ships, whenever the brute refused to steer, for he was, so I have heard, brought up as a sailor when but a lad. Thus, I could place him by the tail to steer the beast, and then, I am convinced, I could speedily learn to ride without either saddle or bridle. But, I confess, I have my misgivings about being able to stick on any bare-backed beast smaller than a good-sized elephant, certainly not a fiery Numidian charger. And wherever I go, for the sake of the good precepts he would instil, I should decidedly like to have the advantage of our good Sosilus’s society. Therefore, my Lord Hannibal, mount me, I prithee, on an elephant!”
There was some merriment at these comical objections of Chœras, who was a licensed jester, amid which the party broke up, Maharbal having laughingly promised him that, for fear of losing his valuable services all too soon, he would provide him with both saddle and bridle until the completion of at least the first campaign.
CHAPTER IV.
FIRST BLOOD.
There had been plenty of stiff fighting before Hannibal succeeded, with his army of seventy thousand of all arms, in getting across the Pyrenees into the country of Gallia, for the Celts held strong positions in which to resist the invaders. But he crossed the mountains at last, and, having left his brother, Hasdrubal, with fifteen thousand Libyans, to garrison Spain, and sent an equal number of Iberians over into Libya, the Carthaginian Commander had pursued his advance without further resistance until he reached the banks of the Rhone, about three days’ march north of Massilia, or Marseilles.
Here he proceeded to make a camp and prepare for crossing the wide and swift river Rhodanus. Boats and canoes were purchased in abundance; a great number of soldiers were employed in cutting down trees and making rafts for the transport of the elephants, and, with the sawing and hammering that went on, the whole camp soon resembled an enormous workshop. Meanwhile, the natives were collecting in large numbers on the other bank of the Rhone to dispute his passage.
Sitting round the camp fire one night, Hannibal held a conclave of his officers.
“We must make speedy haste, oh, mine officers,” he said, “to cross yon deep and mighty river despite the hordes of barbarians who guard its further bank, for to-day grave and unexpected tidings have come to hand. The Romans have landed at Massilia; ay, the Consul Paullus Cornelius Scipio himself, so say the Gauls, accompanied by his brother, Cnœus Cornelius Scipio, has suddenly landed and formed a camp at Massilia. It seemeth that he is proceeding with a fleet and large army to Iberia to meet me there, and hath disembarked for provisions; but, doubtless, he will ere this have learnt that he need not go so far as Spain to find Hannibal or Hannibal’s army. But ’tis not here in Cis-Alpine Gaul that I would meet him; nevertheless, we must, while pursuing our previous plans for forcing the river crossing, despatch at once a force to the southward to ascertain, if possible, his numbers and his present intentions. General Maharbal, thine shall be this duty. Warn, therefore, five hundred of thy Numidians after their supper to be ready to start with thee in the first hour of the morning watch. Take native guides with thee, and march with all due precaution towards Massilia, and strive to find out the numbers and dispositions of the Roman Consul’s troops.”
“It shall be done at once, my lord,” replied Maharbal, saluting, and departing to that part of the camp where his horsemen were encamped.
“To thee Hanno, son of Bomilcar,” continued the Commander, “is assigned another and most arduous duty, and one upon the skilful accomplishment of which depends the whole future of the campaign. For thou must, with five thousand Numidian and Iberian infantry, march in a couple of hours time to the northward. Take guides with thee, and, avoiding the bank of the river, strike it again at daylight. There procure boats or make rafts, or, by any means, make a crossing before the Gauls can assemble to dispute thy passage, which, if possible, must be made without their knowledge. Then, to-morrow night, descend the other bank, and, at daybreak, raise a thick smoke from the high hills behind the encampment of the Gauls now opposing us. When I see that smoke, I will commence to cross the river in face of the enemy, who, watching us, will, if the fates are propitious, not observe thee. Then, when they are opposing our landing, do thou fall suddenly upon their camp and themselves. Thus will they be caught between both armies at once, and, by Melcareth! ’twill be odds but that not many of them survive to tell the tale of their discomfiture.”
’Twas now General Hanno’s turn to salute and march out, to warn his officers and men for the important service which lay before them. To the rest of his officers, Hannibal now gave certain instructions for the morrow’s duties, and shortly afterwards all in the camp, except those on guard, or warned for the duties above-detailed, had retired to their tents for the night.
Long before daybreak, Maharbal and his men were on the march, and riding cautiously towards the south. Shortly after dawn he halted his men for a time in a wood for purposes of repose, while he himself, taking a fresh horse and accompanied by a few followers, rode well in advance without seeing any signs of an enemy. Returning, he sent forward his advance guard, then, followed by all his men, drawn up in a single line of horsemen, two deep at loose intervals, he himself advanced in succession. They traversed a plain, and the horsemen of the advanced guard disappeared over the crest of a sloping hill, to the summit of which Maharbal had himself recently ascended without perceiving any danger, when suddenly the men of the advanced party were seen galloping back in disorder, while behind and among them, pursuing and striving to cut them down, was seen a large and martial body of mounted men in bright, burnished armour. From the crests of their helmets, which glittered in the morning sun, there streamed long dyed plumes of crimson horsehair. A noble sight and awesome they were, as, with so little warning, the squadrons came thundering down the slope upon the Numidians.
“The Romans!” cried every man, astonished; “the Romans!” And for a moment they wavered, for it was the first time any there, including the commander, had met the dreaded and world-renowned foe in mortal combat.
But Maharbal took in the situation at a glance. He saw in a second that although the Romans had the advantage of the ground, charging, as they were, down hill, that they were numerically inferior to his own force.
“Be not alarmed, men,” he cried; “we are more than they; we shall defeat them. Prefect Chœras, take thou a hundred men well away to the right instantly, and fall upon their flank and rear. The remainder follow me. Charge!”
In a second the two forces met in all the shock of battle. And then for a while the contest was bloody and hand to hand, neither side gaining any advantage. But presently the Numidians, by separating, wheeling, and retiring in groups of twos and threes, then advancing again and flinging their darts, then once more retiring, commenced absolutely to get the better of the Roman cavalry, who, not understanding these tactics, kept in a solid formation. Then the wag and poet, Chœras, fell upon them with his hundred men from the rear, and broke them up, and they turned for flight. Chœras, as he led his men, with blood dripping from his sword, pursued, shouting out the while many a well-timed jest and gibe in the Latin tongue, which he knew well. But, alas! the Carthaginians’ triumph was short lived, for suddenly, from behind the hill up which the flying Romans were being pursued by the scattered groups of Numidians, there appeared a fresh body of mounted troops, led by a commander who was but a lad. There were a considerable force of Gallic allies from the tribes faithful to Rome inhabiting the district of Massilia. Right gallantly they now in turn charged down the hill, leaving openings between their squadrons for the flying Romans to pass through, then closing their ranks again. It was now, after a short but hopeless stand, the turn of the Numidians to fly, for they were overpowered entirely, and especially the body of horse with Chœras, which suffered severely. At length, despite the efforts of Maharbal, his men were all in full retreat, leaving many corpses behind them on the plain. As for Maharbal himself, he stood to the last. He had a fresh and magnificent horse, and knew that he could escape if he would. But he wished to die where he stood rather than turn back defeated to the camp and his commander.
Proudly, and all alone, sword in hand, he sat upon his charger awaiting the onslaught of the Gauls, resolving to kill as many as possible ere he was slain himself. But their youthful commander, evidently a young Roman officer, was mounted on a far fleeter horse than the rest of his troops, and galloping forward sought to engage Maharbal in single combat.
“Defend thyself, proud Carthaginian,” the young man cried aloud in Greek. “For I am Scipio’s son, and will bear back thy head to my father.” And he charged Maharbal.
“And I am Maharbal, the son of Manissa,” cried the other, in the same language, “but thou shalt not bear back my head this day.”
Wheeling his horse skilfully to one side, Maharbal easily avoided the young man’s blow, delivered as he passed, then, turning his horse, pursued the gallant young Roman. In a few strides he was alongside. Dropping his reins, which he could well ride without, he placed his mighty left arm around the waist of the Roman lad, and urging his own charger forward, bore him bodily from his saddle, a prisoner in his terrible grip. In his futile struggles, young Scipio dropped his sword, and thus found himself being carried away defenceless across the withers of Maharbal’s magnificent war horse.
“I could kill thee if I would, my fine young fellow,” said Maharbal, “but thou art too brave a cockerel. I will keep thee alive instead for a slave.”
A howl of rage arose from the pursuing Gauls, and from the now rallying Romans, but for stadia after stadia Maharbal still kept ahead, following his own flying troops, until, at length, he saw the Carthaginian camp in front, and but a short distance ahead. He saw, too, a body of cavalry forming up to come to his assistance without the entrenchments. Another minute and he would have been safe with his prisoner, when his gallant steed struck a piece of fallen timber, stumbled, and fell, throwing the two men far apart, Maharbal himself being stunned in the fall. He knew no more until he found himself, on returning consciousness, in Hannibal’s own tent, not much the worse for his fall, although very stiff from having been trampled on in the melée which had taken place over the prostrate bodies of himself and young Scipio, which melée had resulted in each side reclaiming its own champion.
Maharbal’s personal bravery in this sanguinary action—in which he had lost, in killed alone, two hundred men, and the Romans one hundred and forty—had saved him from the disgrace, which he would otherwise have incurred, owing to his repulse. Seeing, however, what had happened, despite the reverse, the young Numidian warrior only found that his reputation was considerably enhanced throughout the army by his brilliant feat in carrying off the son of the Roman Consul.
All the day following this brilliant action, Hannibal Monomachus, with all his pioneers, especially with the aid of a prefect of pioneers, named Hasdrubal, was busily employed in building large rafts upon which to transport the thirty-seven elephants present with the army across the river. As these huge beasts distinctly refused to allow their Indian drivers to make them swim, he accomplished his purpose in another manner. Making two large rafts, they were attached to the shore, and covered thickly with earth and brushwood, so as to look like land, and built up to a level with the bank. Then two other rafts were constructed on a similar plan, and fitted carefully, and fastened with ropes to those tied to the shore. These were placed further out in the stream, being held in position by ropes attached to wherries anchored up the stream. The joins between the two sets of rafts were not visible to the elephants, who, thinking they were still on land, allowed themselves to be driven on to the outer rafts, where they were tethered until the time for the crossing should come. And thus the day passed, and by the following dawn all was ready.
The first division of the army embarked in the wherries and canoes, the heavy-armed cavalry men being in the former, two men in the stern of each boat holding five horses apiece by the bridles, these horses swimming. The wherries were placed up the stream, so as to break the current for the canoes below. The infantry soldiers embarked in their canoes. Thus, all was in readiness, while Hannibal and his officers remained watching for the signal. Suddenly first a thin and then a dense column of smoke was seen rising through the trees in rear of the camp of the Gauls.