Although it was the fashion of the Romans and Carthaginians to call all races but their own and the Greeks “barbarians,” the word did not carry with it the significance that it has in these days; merely meaning at first the inhabitants of Berber, the country to the North of Africa. In fact, these very Numidians at whose court Elissa now found herself, were Berbers or Barbarians. The remnants of this old race, who are still numerous in the countries of Tunisia and Algeria, are called Berbers unto this day. And from applying first to the Berbers, the word barbarian came to have the signification of any foreigner of no matter what race.
If the Numidian princes were called barbarians, it must not be imagined that they were either barbaric in their ways, or that their residences were by any means barbaric. On the contrary, not only had they got the long-established civilisation and culture of the neighbouring country of Carthage to guide them in their architecture, but they had, in the beautiful horse-shoe arch, a grace and art of their own which, introduced into Spain many hundreds of years later by the descendants of the Berbers, the conquering Moors, has left its traces unto this day in the Saracenic or Moorish arches of the Alhambra at Granada and other magnificent buildings.
The Carthaginian embassy was received in state, and when Elissa, on first landing, was borne in an open golden litter, with Sophonisba by her side, up to the palace steps, the two girls thought they had never seen anything so beautiful as the view of the land and sea from the hill upon which the palace stood, and the first appearance of the home of Syphax.
As they ascended the hillside to the sounds of sweet and somewhat melancholy music from the musicians of the escort, they traversed gardens blazing with geraniums and roses; the frequent orange blossom, shining with its waxen, heavy-scented petals on one side, being relieved everywhere by the crimson flowers of the pomegranate. Overhead the date palms rustled in the fresh sea-breeze, while below shone the blue sea, with a busy harbour full of shipping. All along the coast, into the far distance, could be seen a succession of green headlands, forming a charming variety to the blue of the foam-flecked sea below, and the blue of the cloud-flecked sky above.
But if the works of nature were beautiful all around, the works of man were beautiful also. For the front façade of the palace, beneath the shade of which Syphax and his suite was awaiting them, consisted of a long unbroken line of horse-shoe arches of purest marble, these arches being supported at each heel of the horse-shoe by double pillars of pure white marble also. Above the façade towered the palace, a marble building studded with horse-shoe-shaped windows everywhere. Around each of these windows, to afford relief to the eye, was a band, a foot wide, of polished black stone, the effect of the contrast being delightful. Leading up to the façade, which was raised some ten feet above the level of the ground, there was a magnificent and very wide double flight of curved marble steps, the curve of the steps again forming a perfect horse-shoe. The double balustrades of this horse-shoe approach were scarlet and green, with climbing geraniums, while gracefully festooned up the marble pillars of the façade, and above the top of the arches, were seen the most magnificent clusters of the purple bourgainvillier flowers, and the graceful twining convolvulus, whose bells of deepest blue hung in brilliant contrast to the pale green leaves.
“Oh! what a lovely place,” exclaimed Sophonisba. “Surely it must be the home of the gods themselves. Elissa, sawst thou ever a place so lovely as this? There is nothing in Carthage itself that can compare with it. Oh! I would that palace were mine.”
“Who knows but it may become so some day?” replied Elissa, with a laugh. “Syphax is unmarried, thou knowest, and thy lovely fair skin and auburn tresses will assuredly attract him greatly if he be not of adamant, which, my Sophonisba, I have heard he is not by any means.”
“Hush! Elissa,” replied the young girl, blushing. “Yonder handsome, swarthy man, in the silver inlaid armour, standing before the rest, is doubtless Syphax himself. Ah! he descends the stair-case to meet us. I feel nervous; my heart is all in a flutter.”
“Ay! right noble is his mien, enough to make the heart of any girl flutter; but now to salute him. Greeting! oh King Syphax. I, thy humble slave, whom thou seest before thee, am Elissa, daughter of Hannibal, and this maiden by my side is Sophonisba, daughter of General Hasdrubal, who hath preceded us.”
“Greeting! a hearty greeting, Elissa, daughter of Hannibal! Greatly honoured am I that so beauteous a princess should deign to shed the light of her beauty upon our poor dwelling. Welcome art thou, ay, doubly art thou welcome, seeing that thou art the betrothed of our kinsman Maharbal.” And he smiled pleasantly as he kissed her hand. “Welcome to thee also, oh Sophonisba; truly so fair a flower as thou hath never yet blossomed in the gardens of Syphax. Would to the gods that it might take root upon our Numidian soil, then would the palace doors be bright, and the hearts of the people happy.”
With this gallant speech, and with open admiration in his eyes, the Numidian king bent over and kissed in turn the hand of the charming and deeply blushing Sophonisba. Then he ordered the litter to be lowered from the shoulders of the gorgeously-attired bearers, and personally assisted the maidens to alight.
Elissa was attired with great splendour, much after the fashion in which she had been clothed upon the occasion when she descended to the harbour some years before to meet the false Adherbal, and was looking radiant. Sophonisba was also charmingly attired, but somewhat more simply, as became her years.
All present upon the verandah were struck by the regal splendour of Elissa, and the sweet charm of the fair maiden, Sophonisba, whose supple, willowy form was set off to the greatest advantage by the simple style of her raiment.
When they had been conducted up the marble steps by Syphax, he in turn presented to the ladies first his nephew Massinissa, then all the nobles of his court. After them he presented to Elissa the young Roman noble Scipio, with the nobility of whose features Hannibal’s daughter was greatly impressed.
Publius Cornelius Scipio the younger, afterwards distinguished, on account of his feats on Libyan soil, by the surname of Africanus, was by no means the stripling that he had been on the occasion of the rescue of his noble father from the hands of Maharbal and the butcher Monomachus. He was a stately and muscularly developed man, and, save for his temporary pallor, strong and athletic-looking. His features were extremely regular, his eyes blue, his hair light-brown and curling. He wore a short, fair beard, which was exceedingly becoming to him. There was an immense charm in his manner, as, indeed, his face seemed to proclaim.
As Elissa gazed for the first time upon this young man, whose advent in the world was to be so fateful for Hannibal and for Carthage, she was struck by what she considered the goodness, although by no means weakness, of his expression.
Scipio, on his side, was for a second struck dumb by the magnificent and voluptuous beauty before him. Thus, for a second, the representatives of the two hostile nations remained speechless face to face in a sort of embarrassment.
The Numidian king, standing by, laughed heartily.
“Why, my young and noble guests, what is it? Are ye afraid of one another, or would ye continue the war upon Libyan soil? Nay, nay; here are ye on neutral ground, and let me assure thee, oh Scipio, that no war is allowed at the Court of Syphax, save the havoc which can be wrought by a beauteous maiden’s eyes.”
He spoke in Greek, in which language the young man, smiling in turn, replied, as stooping gracefully over Elissa’s hand, he raised it to his lips:
“And that is a war in which the lady Elissa hath already won the victory. Alas! I fear she will be ever fatal to the race of Scipio, whether in the field or in the court. In the former, if the voice of rumour be true, she hath already slain the uncle in well-contested battle by her feats of arms; and now, in the latter, she hath already half-slain the nephew with those far more potent weapons with which the gods on Olympus have endowed her. In sooth is she a most redoubtable foe.”
“I render thee thanks, my lord Scipio. Here, beneath the hospitable roof-trees of King Syphax, thou hast not much to fear, at all events. For ’tis but a simple maiden, all unarmed and defenceless, that thou seest before thee, and no thought hath she in her heart of warfare of any description. Therefore, see thou to it, my lord, that thou provoke not the battle.”
Elissa smiled, displaying her pearly teeth as she uttered these words, and as she stood thus, her crimson lips slightly parted, and a faint flush upon her peach-like cheek, she appeared to the already enamoured young Roman as the terrestial personification of Venus the queen of love herself.
“Most excellent!” quoth King Syphax smilingly; “ ’tis good advice which thou hast given unto our noble Roman guest, for were I in his place I would fly at once rather than risk an encounter in which defeat were assured in advance.”
Then he turned and left them, hurrying off to the side of Sophonisba, who was shyly responding to the advances of the Prince Massinissa, to whom she had taken an instinctive dislike, mingled with a feeling of dread.
For the man had snaky black eyes and a cruel look, as different from the honest and open countenance of his uncle as are the sulphurous fumes of Erebus from the heavenly lights of Elysium. Sophonisba turned to her host gladly as he came to her side, and listened willingly to his kindly and, it must be owned, somewhat amorous conversation, Massinissa effacing himself as his uncle appeared upon the scene. For of him he stood in dread, and likewise hated him cordially, simply for the reason that he had once been detected in plotting against his life, and had most magnanimously been forgiven. For ’tis ever the way with traitors to hate those whom they have wronged, but by whose benefits they are nevertheless not ashamed to profit.
During the ensuing weeks all was merriment at the court of Syphax. The affairs of the two separate embassies were entirely neglected, for the king knew full well that no sooner should he come to a determination with either one power or the other to make an alliance, than the representatives of both would leave. Therefore, being a man of most jovial disposition, and likewise of a most hospitable turn of mind, he, on one pretext or another, constantly put off all business discussions until the morrow. Thus, both the embassies were forced to remain, awaiting the time when the Numidian king should find leisure to discuss the important affairs of State, which, however decided, would inevitably plunge his dominions and forces, now at peace, into all the horrors of war.
In the meantime, the days were passed in the pleasures of the chase, and the nights in feasting and carousal. The country abounded in game of all descriptions, from the lordly lion to the fierce wild boar and the timorous deer.
The former was hunted from the backs of elephants and slain with arrows and darts; the wild boar was pursued on horseback and slain by the riders with their darts and javelines; the deer were killed by the use of the bow alone, the hunters being concealed in passes in the hills, or glades in the forests, towards which the quarry was driven. It was in the pursuit of the wild boar that Elissa shone, for here her magnificent horsemanship and skill in discharging her weapons while at full gallop came chiefly into play. There were other ladies present at the court, many of them of great beauty, but after the arrival of the Carthaginian mission, Syphax was during these hunting parties never to be found by the side of any save Sophonisba; while, where Elissa was, Scipio, whose arm was soon healed, was ever in close attendance.
One day while pursuing the boar, Elissa, being magnificently mounted, had far outstripped all the other riders. She overtook the boar, and casting a javeline, struck the animal behind the shoulder. The infuriated brute turned instantly and charged her horse, which fell headlong, casting its rider heavily to the ground. The boar, after venting its rage upon the prostrate horse, whom with its savage tusks it utterly destroyed, attempted to trot off, but fell down dead close by.
Scipio, was the only one of the hunters who, save Elissa, had in the bushy country managed to follow the chase. He came upon the body of the horse, the now lifeless boar, and the seemingly lifeless form of Elissa, all three close together. When she came partly to her senses again, she found herself closely clasped in the arms of the young Roman warrior. His lips were upon her lips, his breath mingled with her breath; her senses had not yet completely come back to her, she was in a dream. Passionately he clasped her to his bosom; wildly too, in a paroxysm of grief, he cried:
“Die not, beloved, for oh, I love thee—I love thee, Elissa! Say, dost thou love me?”
“Ay,” she replied, with swimming eyes; “ay, I love thee, and that right truly—Maharbal!”
Then she closed her eyes once more, and became again insensible in the arms of Scipio.
Young Scipio, gnashing his teeth with rage, laid her inert body on the ground. Then he rode off, and finding some of the beaters, told them to seek her and bring her back to the palace. He himself, cursing the very name of Maharbal, rode moodily home, avoiding the remainder of the hunting party, whom he observed in the distance.
CHAPTER XIII.
ON THE BRINK.
When we last left Maharbal upon the shores of the Adriatic he was a prey to great sorrow at the loss of his dear friend Mago. But soon he had no time for any personal feelings, for the army was once more in motion. Hannibal, ever mindful of his dream, proceeded to follow out the plan that the dream had suggested, namely, the devastation of Italy. Accordingly, ever leaving a destroyed territory in his wake, he marched onward and southward. Every village that he came across he pillaged and burned, every town or walled city that he met he laid siege to, captured, and destroyed. It was not a part of his plan of campaign to allow his followers to hamper themselves with the quantities of female slaves that they took prisoners, as there could be no means of exportation for them. Therefore, merely delaying for a few days’ repose after the capture of each place, he caused the army to relinquish all the women they had taken, and so to march on, ever forward, unhampered save by the enormous booty they had acquired.
The power of Rome having been apparently paralysed, he, for a considerable space, wandered whither he would, utterly unopposed. Having traversed, from end to end, the countries of Picenum, Campania, Samnium, and Apulia; having for months and months devastated all the richest country in Italy, under the very eyes of the following force of Romans, under the Dictator Fabius, surnamed Cunctator or the Lingerer, he seized upon and carried by assault the citadel and town of Cannæ, where there was an immense store of provisions and materials of war belonging to the Romans. There he rested for a time, and armed all his Libyan infantry with Roman armour and Roman weapons. What a delight must not the Carthaginian chief have felt, as he dealt out by the thousand to his followers the suits of armour that he had taken from the Roman warriors even in their own country. He now had, however, not only the most absolute confidence in himself and his mission, but a sarcastic delight in thus arming his forces with Roman harness to fight against the Romans themselves. And this feeling was shared by the men of mixed nationalities in his army, who, with feelings of triumph, arrayed themselves in the trappings of the enemy whom they were commencing to despise.
Meanwhile, the members of the Senate at Rome were tearing their hair. They determined that an effort must be made, and this puny invader, who, with such a ridiculously small force, had dared to affront all the might of Rome, must be crushed forthwith. Despite, therefore, the previous disasters, they girt their loins together most manfully, and prepared for new and more determined efforts to wipe Hannibal and all his crew off the face of the earth.
What the power of the Roman Senate, what the resolution of the Roman people must have been, is exemplified by the fact that, despite previous losses, they soon had in the field an army amounting in number to more than four times the usual annual levy of legions. For it consisted, counting horse and foot, of nearly ninety-eight thousand men! And the Dictator, the lingerer Fabius, having been proved a failure, and he and his master of the horse, and sometimes co-dictator, Minucius, having been repeatedly defeated in various small actions and skirmishes, this enormous force was placed under the command of the two new consuls for the year, Paullus Æmilius, and Terentius Varro, the former being a patrician of great fame, the latter a popular demagogue of plebeian origin. Æmilius had already greatly distinguished himself in the Illyrian war, for which he had celebrated a splendid triumph; but as for Varro, he was, although the representative of the people, nothing but a vulgar and impudent bully, with no other knowledge of war than his own unbounded assurance. When Hannibal, with his usual military genius, had seized upon the citadel of Cannæ, these two consuls, burning to retrieve the frequent recent disasters, arrived upon the scene and took over the command. But after all that had gone before, they were not sure of themselves, and therefore persuaded the out-going consuls, Cnœus Servilius and Marcus Atillus, to remain and join in the battle. Marcus Minucius likewise, who had been co-dictator with Fabius, returned to the army to take part in the great fight which, with all his rashness, he had not himself been able to precipitate during his own term of office, but which he knew to be imminent. He had already suffered a defeat at the hands of Hannibal, and was burning to gain his revenge. And now he knew that he had his chance against the comparatively small force of the presumptuous invader, for never, in all her history, had Rome put such an enormous army in the field.
Hannibal and his army were encamped upon some heights to the south of a river called the Aufidus. This stream was remarkable in one respect, it being the sole stream in the whole of Italia which flows through the range of the Apennine mountains, rising on their western side, passing through the hills, and falling into the Adriatic Sea on the eastern side of the Italian Peninsula. From the excellent situation of the Carthaginian camp, all the military dispositions of the Romans could be easily observed, and by means of the spies employed by old Sosilus, Hannibal was not long in being informed of the dissensions between the two consuls. Never was there an instance in which the disadvantage of a dual command was shown more than upon the present occasion, when one consul was in command of the whole force one day and the other the next, and what the one did to-day the other undid to-morrow. For it was the custom in the Roman army when both consuls were present to give to each the supreme command on alternate days. It was a wonder, however, that after the example of the co-dictators Fabius Cunctator and Marcus Minucius, who had found it an utter failure a short time before, that this system of daily alternate command had not been abandoned. For Fabius and Minucius had found it so unworkable that they had for a time divided the army into two, each taking his own half. And with his half only, having risked a battle, Minucius was utterly defeated owing to an ambush of cavalry prepared by Hannibal. The late Master of the Horse and his troops were, upon this occasion, only saved from utter destruction by the Lingerer setting his own half of the army in motion, and coming to his rash colleague’s assistance in the nick of time, and checking the Carthaginian pursuit, with much loss to the triumphant Phœnician force. After that, Minucius had wisely resigned his right to the command, leaving the entire power in the hands of Fabius.
Hannibal, with some of his chief officers, was watching from his camp upon the hill the movements of the Roman army, a large portion of which could be seen crossing the river Aufidus to the northern side, where, at some distance from the river, a camp was being prepared for them by strong working parties, covered by large picquets and their supports. Meanwhile, a brisk conflict could be seen going on near the banks of the river, Hannibal having sent a large number of light-armed men and some cavalry to annoy the Romans by attacking their flank while on the line of march.
For a while this attack was successful, but suddenly the situation changed.
“Ha! General Hanno, seest thou that?” quoth Hannibal. “The Romans have, as far as I can see for the clouds of dust, altered the whole face of the action. Withdrawing their light-armed troops, they have now faced our men with large bodies of their heavy-armed hoplites. Ay, ’tis easy to see them now; they are issuing from the dust; there they are in three lines—the Hastati, the Principes, and the Triarii. And the Hastati are charging our men, who retreat in confusion. ’Tis true those tall black and purple plumes rising up from the crests of their helmets do give those heavy-armed Roman infantry a somewhat terrifying appearance. They still advance, I see, and in large numbers. Were it not the day for the command of Æmilius, I should say that they were attempting to bring on a general engagement, and trying to draw me on to throw mine own heavy troops into the action also.
“But Æmilius is too cautious to fight, if he can avoid it, thus, with only part of his force, and it would be dark before he could bring the remainder of the army into action. The same applies to us. A battle this evening, therefore, can do neither of us any good. Therefore, the light-armed troops must even make good their retreat as they can. I wonder, though, what is the object of the Romans in thus weakening themselves by dividing their camp in two?”
“I think, my lord Hannibal, ’tis to annoy our foraging parties,” replied Hasdrubal, formerly chief of the Pioneers, who had succeeded to the command of the heavy cavalry upon the departure of Mago. “ ’Tis either for that purpose, or to protect their own foraging parties from us.”
“But ’twill not protect their watering parties,” responded the Chief, “and, moreover, in this warm summer weather ’twill be a terrible thing for them if they get not water. I hold them now in the hollow of my hand, and can force on a general engagement when I choose, and that, too, upon ground of mine own choosing, and most favourable to cavalry. To-morrow is, methinks, the day for the command of Terentius Varro, and him I can soon draw out, and so we will prepare the army for the battle to-morrow.
“What matter, if we have but forty thousand to their ninety-eight thousand? their very numbers will prove their great source of weakness, if I draw them, as I propose, into yonder ground below us within the loop formed by the double bend of the river. But thou wilt have a busy time with the heavy cavalry, General Hasdrubal, and upon thee in a great measure will depend to-morrow the fate of the whole battle—ay, the fate of Carthage or of Rome.”
“I am ready, my lord,” answered the ex-chief of the Pioneers simply. “And if I fall, there are plenty of other good men and true among mine officers to succeed me in carrying out thine orders.”
“Good! Now, my generals, as I perceive that the Romans are no longer pursuing our light-armed troops, but have resumed their order of march, we need remain here no longer. Hath General Maharbal returned from the skirmish yet? If not, we will await him.”
“Nay, my lord, thither he cometh,” and the enormous form of the young general, towering above a small surrounding group of the Numidian cavalry, could be seen issuing from the clouds of dust upon the Roman flank. He had been covering, as far as lay in his power, the retreat of the light-armed footmen, and was now retiring leisurely, while directing his troops to pick up and bring in all the wounded they could find.
Presently he returned to the camp and joined the group of generals, in a very bad humour at this small reverse. Hannibal addressed him.
“Well, Maharbal! so thy forces were driven back, were they?”
“Yea, verily were they, Hannibal; and that for want of due support,” answered Maharbal testily, while removing his helmet and wiping the sweat and dust from his face.
“Which support thy commander ought to have given thee, eh? and so brought on a general action just about nightfall. ’Twould have been truly most wise. What! hast thou not slain enough of the Romans? And yet, methinks, ’tis something more than red paint that I see upon thy hand.” Hannibal smiled at the evident ill-humour of his beloved lieutenant, and continued: “Blood, Maharbal! thou shalt have Roman blood enough to-morrow; and I pray the gods that thine own be not shed. But now shalt thou have wine; thou must be sorely thirsty.”
“Thirsty—ay! I could drink up the river Aufidus,” responded Maharbal, smiling, for his ill-humour had vanished completely at the kindly words of his chief.
“Then come to my tent, lad, and ye also, my generals; and while Maharbal taketh his well-deserved refreshment, I will, with pen and ink, demonstrate unto ye all the plans I have conceived for to-morrow’s action, and the part which will fall unto each of ye therein.”
After the council of war Hannibal called his senior general aside.
“Now, Hanno, it will, lest the troops be depressed by to-day’s slight reverse, be as well for me to address them. Be so good as to parade troops from all the different forces. As I cannot address the whole army, I wish to have as many representatives as possible present from each arm. Form them up into a hollow square, as many files deep as possible, leaving only room for me and mine interpreters in the centre, and a small lane, two files in width, through which I can ride in.”
All was soon done as directed, and then Hannibal addressed the army as follows:
“First, give thanks to the gods, for they have brought the enemy into this country because they design the victory for us. And next to me, for having compelled the enemy to fight—for they cannot avoid it any longer—and to fight in a place so full of advantages for us. But I do not think it becoming in me now to use many words in exhorting you to be brave and forward in this battle. When you had no experience of fighting the Romans, this was necessary, and I did then suggest many arguments and examples to you. But now, seeing that you have undeniably beaten the Romans in three successive battles of such magnitude, what arguments could have greater influence with you in confirming your courage than the actual facts? Now, by your previous battles, you have got possession of the country and all its wealth in accordance with my promises, for I have been absolutely true in everything I have ever said to you. But the present contest is for the cities and the wealth in them; and, if you win it, all Italy will be at once in your power; and, freed from your present hard toils, and masters of the wealth of Rome, you will, by this battle, become the leaders and lords of the world. This, then, is a time for deeds, not words; and, by the blessing of the gods, I am persuaded that I shall carry out my promises to you forthwith.”
These encouraging words were received with tumultuous shouts and cheers by the many who heard them, and even those who were not actually present, learning from their comrades what Hannibal had said, had their spirits greatly raised, and became full of confidence for the morrow.
It was in this manner that Hannibal ofttimes inspired his men. He fulfilled his promises to them, and never asked them to face a danger or a hardship which he was not ready to share himself, even as were he a mere private soldier, instead of being the great commander, the head and brains of the whole army, the wonder of the world.
CHAPTER XIV.
CANNÆ.
The battle was not until two days later, for Hannibal had been mistaken in imagining on the previous day that Paullus Æmilius had been in command, since it had been Varro.
On the morning that Hannibal wished to fight, he drew up his army in battle array, but Æmilius, not being satisfied with his ground, which he clearly saw was far too favourable to the enemy’s cavalry, declined to come out of camp, and Hannibal, therefore, marched his men in again. He revenged himself, however, by despatching his cavalry to cut off the Roman watering parties that evening. Again, on the following morning, he sent the cavalry to prevent the Roman watering parties from approaching the stream. And this time, being sure of his man, Hannibal knew that he would not have long to wait, and so once more he drew up his troops in battle array and expected Varro. Terentius Varro, who had been furious the day before at his colleague’s delay, and was irritated beyond measure at the insolence of the Carthaginian horse in attacking his water parties, instantly put his forces in motion. Like a nest of hornets the vast army issued from the two camps, the larger force on the south side joining the troops from the lesser camp on the north side of the river. And soon he had no less than eight thousand horse and eighty thousand infantry men in line face to face with Hannibal’s thirty thousand. Varro had left ten thousand more men in camp, with instructions to attack the Carthaginian camp during the battle; but Hannibal, ever wide awake, foresaw this move, and had also left ten thousand in his camp to resist any such enterprise.
What a magnificent sight must have been those two huge armies, the Romans considerably more than double the Carthaginians, in battle array, and facing each other, before the commencement of one of the most awful combats that the world has ever known—the terrible battle of Cannæ!
Hannibal had crossed to the north side of the river into the loop already mentioned, and had thrown out to the front, in skirmishing order, his Balearic slingers and spearmen; the Romans had likewise covered their front with their light-armed men. Thus the action began by the engagement of the skirmishers with each other. Meanwhile, the two armies, taking no part in this combat, remained face to face.
While they are waiting thus, we may as well take a glance at the mutual dispositions of the two armies, beginning with that of Hannibal. He, facing northward, had the horse of his right wing resting on the right bend of the river, and the horse on the left wing resting on the left bend of the river, while the back of the whole of his force was to the river also.
The Romans, seeing that glittering stream flowing thus in rear of their foe on every side, confidently reckoned upon soon turning it into a river of Carthaginian blood. With this object they massed their maniples closer than usual, and to double the usual depth. The Roman forces even then considerably overlapped the Carthaginian army on both sides of the loop, the river thus protecting both Hannibal’s flanks for him, as he had intended that it should.
But the Romans imagined that by the sheer weight of their thousands of heavy-armed infantry thus massed together they would forcibly sweep the Carthaginian foot clean off the plain and into the river behind them. And so, no doubt, they would have done, had it not been for the skilful disposition that Hannibal had made of his own infantry, which utterly frustrated their intention. For he had massed the whole of his heavy infantry in the centre of the plain in the form of the crescent moon, the convex side being towards the enemy and the thinner parts, the horns, bending backwards on each flank towards the river. It was an enormous crescent, certainly, and very thick in the centre, which, being composed of alternate
Showing the distribution and Number of the Various Troops Engaged
companies of Iberians and Gauls, was intended to bear the brunt of the first part of the hand to hand fighting. Of these the Iberian infantry wore short white linen tunics, bordered with purple stripes; but the Gauls were naked to the waist. The Iberians had Roman swords, which could thrust as well as cut; while the Gauls were armed with huge weapons, meant for cutting only. Both Iberians and Gauls had a serviceable shield. The flanks of this enormous crescent were composed of the staunch Libyan infantry, whom Hannibal wished to reserve to the last. They were all armour-clad, and their armour having been captured at Thrasymene, armed identically with the Romans opposed to them, namely, with throwing spears, sword, and shield. The appearance of this motley mass of soldiers of three nations must have been equally terrible and frightening to the Romans as was the appearance of the Roman infantry with their tall, waving plumes to the Carthaginians. Hannibal stationed himself with the centre of the crescent to lead it into action, while Hanno commanded under him. All of the heavy Libyan and Iberian horse on the left were under the command of Hasdrubal, and all the Numidian light horse on the right were under Maharbal’s orders as usual.
The Romans had placed their cavalry in front of their flanks. Paullus Æmilius was in command of the right wing, Terentius Varro of the left, while the two consuls of the previous year commanded the centre. These were Cnœus Servilius and Marcus Atillus, who had gallantly volunteered to remain with the army and fight under their successors. Minucius and young Scipio were respectively with the horse on the Roman right and left wing.
It was a glorious morning in the beginning of August, and the grass upon the plain near the river bank, that was so soon to be crimson with blood or hidden by the heaped-up corpses, was all emerald green, and studded with daisies and buttercups, wild campion and meadow-sweet. The blackbirds and thrushes were merrily singing away in the branches of the occasional plane trees, while, as the several parties of skirmishers advanced upon each other, coveys of young partridges, or small flocks of quail, rose before them with a whirring sound, and, frightened by the lines of glittering spears, and the dazzling gleam of the armour to be seen in all directions, flew frequently over the heads of the opposing forces, the men in jest striking at them with their spears. In the same way the hares, of which there were a great number on the plain, being alarmed by the skirmishers, ran among the feet of the men of the two armies, for there was no exit for them. And the thousands of men, while standing thus and waiting to engage in mortal combat, amused themselves by capturing the timid animals rushing between their legs.
A lovely morning indeed it was, with fur and feather of animal life moving in all directions around. And yet it was a day consecrated to the slaughter, not of mere game, but of man himself—and what a slaughter! For who ever heard of such a battle as that of the battle of Cannæ?
As has been said, Hasdrubal was in command of the heavy Iberian and Celtic cavalry on the left. Now old Sosilus, who was on the field, as usual making notes, had attached himself to this force, and as Polybius learned from him, and recorded later, there was soon some grand fighting on the left wing. For no great results transpired, nor were they expected from the fighting of the light-armed troops. Hasdrubal, therefore, set his cavalry in motion! They were no less than eight thousand in number, and soon, with many a warlike shout, they were thundering over the plain to charge the Roman cavalry, chiefly composed of knights and senators, in front of the Roman right flank. With these were not only the ex-dictator Minucius, but the Consul Paullus Æmilius, who led them in person. And now the account of what happened as given by the worthy Sosilus to the historian Polybius is very pretty and very graphic. He related it much in the following words:
As soon as the Iberian and the Celtic cavalry got at the Romans, the battle began in earnest, and in the true barbaric fashion, for there was none of the usual formal advance and retreat. When they got to close quarters, they grappled man to man, and dismounting from their horses fought on foot, and when the Carthaginians had got the upper hand in this encounter, and killed most of their opponents on the ground, because the Romans all maintained the fight with spirit and determination, they began chasing the remainder along the river, slaying as they went, and giving no quarter. Then the legionaries took the place of the light-armed and closed with the enemy, that is, the Roman infantry attacked the Carthaginian infantry.
For a short time the Gallic and Iberian lines stood their ground and fought gallantly, but presently overpowered by the weight of the heavy-armed Romans, they gave way and retired to the rear, thus breaking up the crescent. The Roman maniples followed with spirit, and cut their way through the enemy’s line, and closed up from the wings towards the centre, the principal point of danger. The two Carthaginian wings did not come into action at the same time as the centre, because the Iberians and Gauls, being stationed on the arc of the crescent, had come into contact with the enemy long before the wings.
The Romans, however, going hastily in pursuit of these troops and closing towards their own centre, now fell into the trap that Hannibal had designed for them. For the Libyan troops that he had placed on either flank now wheeled inwards, the left flank wheeling to the right and attacking the Roman right flank, and the Libyans on the right wheeling in a similar manner to the left and falling upon the Romans’ left. Still the Romans fought bravely, facing outwards; but owing to their numbers, they were so crowded together that they got none of the advantages that those numbers should have given them, for only the outer files could fight. Now Æmilius had been with the cavalry on the left, and fought most manfully against the charge of Hasdrubal; but although severely wounded, after the cavalry reverse, seeing that the decision of the battle rested chiefly on the legionaries, he rode up to the centre of the line and led the charge himself, cheering on and exhorting his men.
Hannibal on the other side did the same, for, as already stated, he had taken his place in the centre from the commencement. Meanwhile the Numidian horse on the right under Maharbal were repeatedly charging the cavalry on the Roman left, and although by their peculiar mode of fighting they neither gave nor received much harm, they rendered them useless by keeping them constantly employed, charging first on one side and then on the other. And now Hasdrubal behaved splendidly and with most soldierly judgment. For he rode along the whole rear of the Romans, attacked with a murderous charge the cavalry force under young Scipio, and with which Maharbal was engaged, and having entirely broken them up, left Maharbal and his Numidians to pursue. He himself returned to the rear of the Roman centre, and then hurled the whole of his heavy cavalry upon the rear of the legionaries in a most fearful rush, the charge being delivered at full gallop. The shock was terrible, and the result upon the Romans most disastrous. And now all their cavalry being defeated, with the heavy cavalry on their rear and the heavy-armed Libyans on both flanks, the Iberians and Gauls having moreover rallied on their front, the wretched Romans were enclosed on every side. So closely were they jammed together that they could not even draw their swords. And thus a fearful slaughter of the Romans set in, and the massacre continued for no less than eight hours. For the outer ranks being constantly mown down in succession, the Carthaginians gradually fought their way over the piles of corpses from all sides towards the centre, and thus, powerless to resist, the Romans were cut down like penned-up sheep by thousands where they stood. The Carthaginian heavy cavalry, being no longer able to urge their horses onward over the piles of the armoured dead, dismounted and continued steadily fighting their way on foot to the centre from the rear.
While this terrible carnage was going on, Hannibal had not been unmindful of his camp, upon which a most determined attack was being made by the ten thousand Romans who had been left in their own camp for the purpose. Seeing that he had now enclosed the legionaries so that they could not get out, and half of them being slain already, and the other half with horror in their eyes waiting their inevitable turn to die, he now took away as many troops as he could spare from the slaughter. Recrossing the River Aufidus, which was not soiled by the blood of a single Carthaginian soldier, after all the men had taken a refreshing drink of the pure water, Hannibal led them up the hill to the rescue of his camp. Here he arrived in the very nick of time, for the garrison were, after a prolonged and spirited resistance, just beginning to waver. Now, however, the Romans found themselves between two forces, and in consequence the ten thousand, or such as survived of them, not wishing to be all killed to a man, as they could see was happening across the river to their comrades, laid down their arms and surrendered themselves as prisoners.
In addition to those taken prisoners, the Romans that day lost no less than seventy thousand in killed. For the Carthaginians slew and slew until they were too weary to strike any longer, and thus at length, of the ninety-eight thousand horse and foot who went into action, either in the big battle or in the fighting round the camp, a miserable remnant of some ten thousand only in all struggled through by degrees to the town of Canusium.
Meanwhile, Maharbal, who had long continued the pursuit and slaughter of the Roman cavalry, returned. He had, comparatively early in the fight, severely wounded young Scipio in the side and in the left arm. It was while he was, with his two thousand Numidians, keeping occupied a vastly superior number of the enemy, that Scipio had boldly ridden forth, and, for the third time in this history, challenged Maharbal to single combat.
The young Roman’s bravery was great, but neither in strength nor in dexterity was he a match for the Numidian, who wounded and unhorsed him after a short hand-to-hand combat, in which Maharbal himself received a trivial wound on the wrist at Scipio’s first violent onslaught. Scipio was overthrown and cast to the ground, his sword falling from his hand. Maharbal leaped to the ground after him and secured the sword.
“Now, Scipio,” he said, holding the point of the blade at his prostrate antagonist’s throat, “could I slay thee with thine own weapon; but I will not, but spare thee even on this the third occasion, as on the two former ones, merely on account of thy bravery. Rise, therefore, and take thy sword and thy horse, and see to it that in the future ye meddle no more with Maharbal the son of Manissa, for thou art by no means any match with him. Fight thou with thine equals!” He helped the wounded warrior on to his horse again. “Now go thou forth,” he said disdainfully, “and see to it that ye trouble me no more.”
And thus he drove off Scipio with scorn, as though a whipped cur, from before his face.
A few days later that same sword came in useful for Scipio in preserving the honour of Rome. For with its blade bared, he rushed in among a body of nobles who had escaped from Cannæ, and were about to fly beyond the seas. And he swore that with it he would slay anyone who would not bind himself not to desert his country.
Meanwhile, as we have said, Maharbal was returning with his men from the pursuit, and carefully threading his way across that terrible plain, whereon of the Roman leaders, Minucius and all of the consuls, except Varro, who escaped to Canusium, lay dead. Seventy thousand corpses lay there, with pale faces and glazed, staring eyes turned up to the skies, many of them displaying bleeding, ghastly wounds as they lay in pools of blood. Horses, either dead or dying, were strewn all over the plain, having in many instances imprisoned beneath them in their fall some wounded warrior, whose agonised face bespoke his misery and fear as he saw the dreaded Numidians approaching. But they left all such to die a lingering death.
“The might of Rome is crushed! ay, absolutely crushed for ever!” exclaimed Maharbal to Chœras by his side, and crossing the Aufidus, he galloped up the hill to where he perceived Hannibal on horseback outside the camp.
“Hannibal, I salute thee, Conqueror of Rome!” he cried, and he flung himself from his horse and grasped his general’s hand. “Hannibal, for ever more the might of Rome is crushed! Send thou me on with the cavalry, do thou follow behind, and in five days thou shalt sup in the Capitol!”
Hannibal warmly returned his friend’s pressure, but made no reply.
END OF PART III.
PART IV.
CHAPTER I.
AFTER THE BATTLE.
On the morning after the great battle, the wearied troops were occupied in pillaging the bodies of the slain. Gathering together the golden rings of the fallen Roman knights, they collected four or five bushels, of which three bushels were sent to Carthage, and poured out before the Hundred on the floor of the Senate house. The number of Roman Eagles taken, and also forwarded to Carthage, was incredible. At the same time Hannibal sent an urgent demand for reinforcements in elephants, men, and money, since for three years, from the day he had marched out from Saguntum, he had contrived, by his wonderful ability and skill, to make his army entirely self-supporting, replacing his losses in men by levies of Gauls, and paying the troops with the pillage of captured towns and cities. Unfortunately for Carthage, the Hundred did not listen to his demand. Had they but done so at this juncture, Carthage and not Rome might have become the conqueror of all the then known world. The Phœnician Senators foolishly considered that if Hannibal had in the past, with the assistance of mere Gauls, been able to win such astounding successes as the Trebia, Thrasymene, and Cannæ, he might still very well continue to shift for himself.
They imagined that by making levies among the Italian colonies of Rome, or in the semi-independent Greek cities, in the provinces of Calabria, Lucania, and Bruttium, Hannibal would still be able to obtain for himself the supplies that he needed, whether of men or money. Further, they imagined that, with the reinforcements thus obtained, he would be able to continue his unbroken career of success. They were not far wrong in their estimate of his indomitable will, for he did act much in this manner. But the Carthaginians, instead of assisting the world’s greatest commander, when he earnestly asked for assistance, shamefully refused to listen to his demands. They sent reinforcements, under Mago, to Spain, and a large fleet and land forces as well under another general to Sicily, in neither of which places was there at the time any great urgency. Hannibal himself, with only half of the men that were denied him, would, after Cannæ, once and for all have conquered not only the Romans, as he had already done repeatedly, but also the city of Rome itself.
While the army were pillaging the thousands of dead, Hannibal and Maharbal were walking about among the corpses on the battle-field, trying to pick out the bodies of the commanders, and to see which of the consuls were slain. They could not ride, for the now stiffened bodies, encased in armour, tripped up the horses. Thus the whole day was passed in climbing and scrambling over the heaps of slain, and in tumbling about over the thousands of shields, spears, and swords, thrown wildly about by the dying warriors in all directions, the points of spears or their hafts sticking up everywhere. It was a most perilous journey over the battle-field, for some of the metal shields were lying face uppermost, with the centre boss, upon which was a sharp point used for striking, most inconveniently pointing upwards. Others, again, were downwards, which made it difficult to avoid getting the feet caught in the straps. But perhaps the worst of all were those jammed edgeways between the stiffened corpses.
“May the curse of all the Roman gods light upon these Roman shields!” cried Hannibal, as, catching his shin upon the edge of one of them, he pitched headlong. It so happened that he fell upon a corpse clad in magnificent armour.
“I have got a severer wound from a dead Roman’s shield to-day than I received from any live Roman’s sword yesterday. See ye here, Maharbal!”
And, seating himself upon the corpse, for they were here so thick that he could not sit elsewhere, he held up his leg to the Numidian. The shin was barked and bleeding where it had been scraped. Maharbal laughed:
“A Roman dead, oh Hannibal, is sometimes apparently more dangerous than a Roman living. I also got a nasty scratch just now from a spear point. I think we shall be lucky when we get out again from this sea of corpses. ’Tis fortunate the blood hath dried up, or mostly sunk into the soil, or we could not move a step. I am most weary.” And Maharbal in turn sunk down upon the piled-up heaps of dead, observing carefully the while the features of the dead Roman knight upon whom Hannibal was resting while nursing his damaged shin.
“Dost thou see upon whom thou art sitting, Hannibal? Thou hast met him before, but not as now. He was more active the last time.”
Glancing round, the chief looked at the dead face.
“Marcus Minucius! by Melcareth! the co-dictator with Quintus Fabius, who did once snatch him from my very hands even when we were face to face. Well, we will give him an honourable burial, and I will no longer sit, like Monomachus at the crossing of the Rhodanus, upon his corpse, for he was, although too rash, a most brave and honourable soldier.”
And Hannibal shifted his seat to another body.
“Hannibal!” quoth Maharbal, “while sitting by the corpse of Minucius, reflect how fatal for Rome hath been the policy of his colleague, the lingerer—Fabius, which hath in the end only resulted in all this carnage. Wilt thou not, after thy glorious success, rather emulate the rashness of this Minucius, and let me instantly make a dash with all the cavalry for the city of Rome, which will be in a terrible state of panic when the news of this battle arrives? I may even be able to force my way into the town before any fugitives bring the news, and then, seizing the gates, can hold them until thou arrive in person with thine army, that is, with all the infantry.”
“I would that I could let thee go,” quoth Hannibal, “but ’twould be useless. See the distance. There is all Apulia to be crossed, and all Samnium likewise. Then, again, the enormous province of Latium is to be traversed ere Rome be reached. Thou mightest get there, ’tis true; but with all this enormous spoil to be gathered and placed in the Citadel of Cannæ, of which I will form an arsenal, I could not march to-day or to-morrow. And even ere thou couldst get there thyself, the gates would be shut. Every man and boy in the whole of the enormous city will soon be in arms. They will not be many of them trained soldiers, ’tis true, but consider the city’s defences! How canst thou with thy cavalry alone break down the massive walls? The place can only be taken by a regular siege. And I cannot, before the reinforcements for which I am writing earnestly arrive, invest so large a city with any hopes of success by starvation. For we have lost ourselves at least five thousand five hundred men in this action, and we have as many thousand wounded. Nay, let us wait for the new troops which will doubtless arrive in a short space from Carthage, then we will at once invest and storm the city. ’Tis impracticable at present, absolutely, believe me, lad.”
“Hannibal, thou art a great general and I am but thy servant. There is none like unto thee to win a victory, but, by the gods! thou dost not know how to profit by thy victory when won, or else wouldst thou let me go—ay, allow me to start in an hour’s time.”
And, savagely in his disappointment, Maharbal kicked at an adjacent shield, making it ring like a bell.
Hannibal sprang to his feet.
“Maharbal, listen unto me! Thou art young and rash—ay, rash even as dead Minucius yonder. But on me alone depends the whole safety of the army, the whole honour of Carthage. By all the gods! were I to listen to mine own wishes in this matter, I would instantly do as thou dost suggest, for I long to follow thine advice, and make an instant dash for Rome. ’Tis, by Moloch, the greatest disappointment I have ever felt not to be able to do so instantly; but, for all my wishing, I must not think of self alone in this matter, and prudence tells me plainly that ’tis not wise; therefore, regretfully—ay, with very deep regret—must I wait for the reinforcements from Carthage. Let us now go forward; ’tis useless our talking over the matter further—I am determined.”
Alas, for Hannibal! those reinforcements never came. But still, he could not have added to his fame had they arrived, and had he then taken Rome. It is for the marvellous manner in which, for many years, he maintained himself in Italy without them that he is so justly famous.
But now we must leave him and Maharbal for a time, ever over-running the country, and capturing or receiving the submission of important Italian cities, such as Capua in Campania, where the inhabitants first smothered all the Romans in the public baths and then yielded; or of Greek cities such as Tarentum in Calabria, where the gates were opened to him through the treachery to Rome of two young hunters, and where Hannibal himself pulled all the beleagured Tarentine warships, under the very nose of the Romans, out of the harbour and overland across the isthmus. It is not our province here to give in detail the many Italian campaigns of Elissa’s father and Elissa’s lover, for we must see what Elissa herself is doing elsewhere.
CHAPTER II.
WIFE OR MISTRESS.
We left Hannibal’s daughter at the Court of Syphax after a serious fall out boar-hunting, from the effects of which, however, she soon recovered.
The young ædile Scipio was now madly in love with her, and the very fact that she had, while apparently returning his embraces, called upon the hated name of Maharbal, made him all the more anxious to win her for himself. For if he had been three times worsted by Maharbal in the field, he was only all the more anxious to conquer him in the lists of love.
Elissa herself was, it must be owned, exceedingly attracted by the charm of the young Roman; and, still feeling very sore at the neglect of Maharbal, she let herself go rather more than she intended, and encouraged him considerably. At first she did so merely for amusement, thinking it a triumph to subjugate a Roman noble; and then she went on with the game because it pleased her, for Scipio was a most loveable man. Yet had Hannibal’s daughter not the least idea of what her own feelings really were. She only knew that she was attracted by the young Roman, for she had, since her affair with Maharbal, so seldom met anyone of rank equal to her own to whom she could allow herself to be attracted, that she was no mistress in the arts of love-making, or allowing herself to be made love to. She, therefore, wondered if it were possible that this attraction could be more than a passing liking. She wondered again if it could be possible that this Roman, the enemy of her country, whom she now met daily as a friend in the intimacy of a foreign court, could ever become to her anything more than a friend. She did not know if she wished that he should do so; but she certainly knew that his presence gave her pleasure. Therefore, without arguing out the matter with herself too far, she took the pleasure of the moment.
Very early in their acquaintance, they found politics a dangerous subject. Therefore the old vexed questions of the rights of Rome to Sicily, or the rights of Carthage to Sardinia, the justification of the invasion of Libya by Regulus, or, in defiance of all treaties, the attack by Hannibal on Saguntum and his subsequent invasion of Italy, were entirely abandoned between them from a controversial standpoint. But as they were both educated in the art of war, all these incidents were discussed between them from their strategical aspects, and thrashed out to the full. Thus, as the daily gossip of the palace was soon exhausted, these two always had a mutual subject of conversation. But it was only natural that when a handsome young man and a handsome young woman were constantly together—and when, moreover, the latter had good grounds for believing that her lover was neglecting her—strategy sometimes was a subject that ceased to be referred to, and a softer theme engrossed the thoughts of both.
When Scipio, however, became ardent and made love to her, Elissa ever retired like a hermit crab within a shell, putting out a claw wherewith to give a little defensive pinch to keep at a distance the man who would explore too closely what the shell contained.
For thus have ever, since the beginning of the world, been the wiles of women.
The unfortunate Scipio, becoming more enamoured day by day, was by degrees almost driven to despair. Now, he had with him at the Court of Syphax his bosom friend, Caius Lælius, a man whose nature was much similar to his own. For Caius was brave to a degree, a splendid soldier, and sailor, too, for that matter, as his many naval exploits proved, yet he was gentle and kind, and altogether unspoiled by the rough manners of the camp.
Caius Lælius noticed with great concern the growing attachment of his friend for the beautiful Carthaginian maiden. He was much attracted towards her himself, but his loyalty to his friend made him leave the field clear. Thus he never put himself forward in any way to gain the notice of Elissa, of whom he knew Scipio to be so much enamoured. On the other hand, he purposely devoted himself to some of the other beauteous maidens present at the Numidian Court. These were only too pleased to shower their favours upon him, for he was universally popular. Thus no party of pleasure, no joyous hunting-party or picnic, for they had picnics in those days even as now, was complete for the merry ladies of the Court of Syphax without the presence of the ever light-hearted Lælius. And Elissa herself knew full well the nobility of the young man, and was ever most courteous and friendly to him.
One day Lælius took his friend and chief to task.
“Scipio,” quoth he, “in the name of all the gods of Olympus! what is this game that thou art playing with the daughter of Hannibal? Wouldst thou make of her thy mistress?”
Scipio flared out in a rage.
“Caius, thou and I have been friends from boyhood; but dare to utter such a suggestion again and I strike thee to the ground!” And he laid his hand upon his sword.
“By Cupid and Venus! ’tis more serious even than I imagined,” replied his companion, laughing. “So thou wilt kill me—because of what? simply because being thy dearest friend I would see thee happy. Tut, tut, man, ’tis childish. I but meant to infer that ’twould be difficult for thee to make her thy wife, and if all that rumour says be true she hath already been the mistress of thine old enemy Maharbal, the Numidian, then why not thine? There is an old Roman saying that there are many women who have never had a lover; but there are none who remain with only one. Then why shouldst thou not succeed, especially in the absence of thy rival?”
“Simply because Elissa is far too noble-minded, and I myself would not take her so unless all other means failed. But why should I not marry her, Lælius? It would be the best thing for both Rome and Carthage. For once she were my wife, how could the war continue? To make her so would be the greatest act of policy that hath ever been wrought since the commencement of the first Punic war. For Hannibal could no longer prosecute the war in Italy were his daughter the wife of Scipio. Neither could Hasdrubal nor Mago continue the war in Iberia against our legions were their niece to become my spouse. Only think of the thousands of lives that may be saved—the thousands of homesteads that may be spared from destruction, the cities that may never sustain a siege, the matrons and maidens that will never run the risk of violation or slavery, should the daughter of Hannibal become the wife of Scipio.”
Lælius, carried away by these words, sprang up enthusiastically.
“By Jupiter and Juno! By Mars and Venus! ’tis true, Scipio! ’twould bring a lasting peace. Well, ask her straight out, and may all the gods speed thy wooing. For on this matter I now see well hangs a most notable crisis. If thou canst win her now, the war ’twixt Rome and Carthage will be stayed. This Elissa is, in very truth, most wondrous beautiful, and once she were thy wife she would become a Roman. The world is quite big enough for Rome and Carthage together, therefore why should they not join hands? and, in sooth, what might we not do could we but form a combination? Think of it! Scipio, a combination between Rome and Carthage—Rome with all its glorious records of land victories, Carthage with its splendid fleets and immense naval power. Together we could conquer all the known and unknown worlds. ’Tis glorious, oh Scipio! I am with thee; there is my hand.”
Scipio was about to reply.
“Nay, speak not yet,” continued the other. “Think what we could win together. The League of the Achæans, the League of the Ætolians, the power of Macedon, the strength of Antiochus in Asia Minor, the pride of the Ptolemies in Egypt, all this together Carthage and Rome can subdue. And the honest love of a man for a maiden may accomplish all this. And a most glorious maiden is she, too. For whether or no she hath loved this Numidian Maharbal, there never yet was in this world such a woman as this Elissa, so strong is she in herself, so beautiful and so powerful. Make her thy wife, Scipio; then shall Rome and Carthage together conquer and reign supreme over all the world. Now, I leave thee.”
Gripping his friend’s hand warmly, Caius Lælius turned and left him. Every word that he had said was true: the whole future fate of the world depended upon that infinitesimal part of the world contained in one tiny unit—the body of one fair woman.
CHAPTER III.
FIGHTING WITH FATE.
There was a cool and refreshing northern breeze wafted off the seas when one morning the young warrior Scipio persuaded the Carthaginian maid to accompany him on horseback to a green, palm-studded headland stretching far out into the sea. Having dismounted and left their steeds with some slaves, the twain wandered on until they came to a sort of cave.
It was a natural archway overhung with wild fig and caper bushes, and having an aspect towards the delightfully blue waters of the Mediterranean. There had once been a temple to some god or goddess at the spot, and they seated themselves upon a fallen column in the recess. This was shaded by overhanging and luxuriant tufts of dew-bespangled maidenhair fern; it was, in fact, a most enchanting spot. Never was there such a glorious day; it was a day when merely to live was in itself an infinite joy. Across the sea could be seen, a hundred miles away, the faint outline of the Spanish land in a radiant haze, while close at hand, the rock-doves uttered cooing notes of love.
Placing his arm round Elissa’s shoulder and drawing her face near to his own, Scipio spoke.
“Elissa, thou canst see in the far distance the headlands showing; they are the coasts of Iberia. But what thou canst not see is the future of the world, and that thou hast it in thine own hands to shape that future now. Now, I can foresee much. And this I tell thee. I love thee, dear, and love thee deeply, and, wilt thou but give me thy love in return, thy nation and mine can conquer the world together. But before all I ask one thing, I ask thy love.”
Elissa’s heart beat fast. The memory of her own love, Maharbal, came to her mind. This man, this Scipio, told upon her strangely, yet could she not forget Maharbal. She remained silent, gazing over the sea and nervously twisting her fingers together.
“Canst thou not love me?” Scipio asked, as he rose and confronted her, capturing and holding her not altogether unyielding fingers in his own strong grasp. “Look out, dear one, over the seas; all those seas may be ours. Watch those far distant headlands. They now belong to Carthage, ’tis true, but they will, should thou not accede unto my prayer, most undoubtedly one day belong to Rome. Yet, give me but thy love, thy hand, and together, thou and I, will conquer and rule the world, and Rome and Carthage will be one alone.”
Bending low, he kissed her hands with gentle kisses, stealing all along from finger-tips to wrist. Still she remained silent, lost in deepest thought. For she was thinking of her country and her past.
After a period of thought she suddenly threw his hands from her.
“And Maharbal?” she exclaimed, “what share is he to have in this ruling of the world?”
The young Roman had not expected this.
“Maharbal!” he answered scornfully, “what share can such a one as Maharbal have in the universal dominion that I propose to thee shouldst thou but unite thy lot with mine? Maharbal, if he be not already dead, can still continue his career as a bold cavalry leader; but what can he do for the world save send many men out of it before their time? ’Tis out of place, methinks, to talk of Maharbal when the future of nations is at stake, and all dependeth but on thee and me.”
Elissa sprung to her feet in turn, and looked Scipio straight in the eyes.
Laughing half scornfully, “Listen unto me,” she said, “oh Scipio. Thou art but a boy for all thine exploits, and art carried away partly by thine enthusiasm and partly by thy love of me, for which, believe me, I am truly grateful, for thou art indeed one worthy to be loved. Yet listen, thou art dreaming a dream which is impossible of completion. Thy union with me could never carry with it the weight that thou dost imagine. I, being Hannibal’s daughter, should be hated by Rome. Thy marriage would not be recognised; I should soon be reduced to the position of thy mere mistress. Rome and Carthage together would never conquer the world, for the sole object of each is to conquer the other, and thus the old racial hatred would never permit it. Could I for one instant believe that it could be so, I would, for my country’s sake, and even in the interest of all humanity, throw over mine allegiance to Maharbal and give myself unto thee now. But I see it is but a dream, and, therefore, were there even no Maharbal in existence—although my heart tells me that I should love thee and love thee dearly—yet would I not give myself unto thee. Nay! it may not be; my natural intelligence persuades me that party feeling in Rome and Carthage, and mine own father’s hatred of Rome, would never allow this glorious union between the two countries which thou hast most patriotically imagined. Therefore, Scipio, leave thou me for ever, for I can never be thine. Things being thus, I only belong to one man living, and to him I will be true.”
Scipio stamped his foot with rage.
“Curse him!” he cried. “Curse him, by all the gods of Olympus and Hades! He needs must come between me and victory at every turn, and never more so than now. And thou art acting ill for thy country, Elissa; mark thou my word. Some day, moreover, in spite of this thrice-accursed Maharbal, thou shalt be mine whether thou wilt or no.”
Elissa’s colour rose, and she laughed at him.
“Thine! whether I wilt or no, my lord Scipio? Surely a somewhat presumptuous boast, seeing how my father Hannibal is slaying thy compatriots by tens of thousands in Italia, and how I myself have been present at the terrible discomfiture of thy relatives in Spain—a proud boast indeed. Thine, indeed!” she added scornfully, “never while Maharbal exists will I be thine, unless thou capture me in honest war; but remember Hannibal’s daughter is accustomed to warfare, and will not be easily taken, I assure thee.”
“Nevertheless,” responded Scipio sternly, “since thou hast thus rejected my proposals, thou knowest, full well, Elissa, that should I capture thee as thou sayst in honest warfare, thou wilt no longer have the chance of becoming my wife. Thou wilt become my slave, ay, my slave, nothing more. And how wouldst thou submit to the consequences?”
“Scipio,” answered Elissa smilingly, for her anger had evaporated, knowing as she did the utter devotion of her companion, “shouldst thou conquer me in war, as I have conquered thee in love, I would submit without demur to all the penalties of the situation; and who knows but I might perchance not be so over-sad if thou shouldst thus capture me, and I have no voice in the matter. For despite thy nationality, that thou art most congenial to me, I must confess. Yet, until I am thy slave, with all due deference to thee, I may, I think, venture to retain, oh thou most amiable Scipio, my liberty of person, and likewise my fidelity both to my country Carthage and my lover Maharbal.”
And with a playful laugh she gently seized him by the arm and led him away, saying:
“Now, that is a bargain between us, so let us not talk of such foolish matters further.”
But Scipio, exasperated and sick at heart, even while allowing himself to be led by her caressing hand back to where the horses stood, swore by all his Roman gods that she should regret it yet, and that if ever she should fall into his hands he would bind her to keep her promise. And so they returned.
A few days later, Syphax having announced his approaching marriage with Sophonisba, and his consequent definite espousal of the Carthaginian cause, Scipio and Lælius had no other course left to them but to quit the Numidian Court and return to Rome.
Scipio had a parting with Elissa that was almost tragic. He ended by bidding her to remember that she might, for all her flouting him, yet some day become the mere slave of the man who now adored her so madly, and who was willing to make her his bride. Then ashamed of himself for having spoken thus, and having lost all control of himself, he pressed her madly in his arms for one short passionate second. And so they parted!
Shortly after the departure of Scipio and his suite, the marriage of King Syphax and Sophonisba was celebrated with great magnificence. Everyone at the Numidian court seemed happy and overjoyed at the event save Massinissa alone. He himself had sought the lovely Sophonisba’s hand, but she had repulsed him in the most unmistakable terms. Therefore, in high dudgeon and vowing revenge, he had quitted his uncle’s court with all his suite, without waiting for the marriage festivities.
When these were completed, bidding a tender farewell to her friend, now queen of Massaesyllia, and a warm farewell to her kindly host the Numidian King, Elissa with General Hasdrubal set sail for New Carthage, whither she arrived without accident. Her uncle Hasdrubal was but awaiting her return to once more prosecute the war in the northern provinces, and General Hasdrubal, the son of Gisco, having been despatched to the south-western parts with an army, Elissa herself once more resumed her old position as Regent and Governor of New Carthage.
She found upon her return the foolish little Princess Cœcilia still in the palace, quite as vain and foolish as ever, and what was worse, on terms of considerable intimacy with a certain young Roman noble, one Marcus Primus, a prisoner in the palace awaiting a ransom from Rome. A patrician and of very high family, Marcus was a young officer of distinction, closely connected with the family of the Scipios. He had escaped on the occasion of the defeat of Cnœus Scipio, but Mago had wounded and unhorsed him in a subsequent encounter, after which, on account of his rank, he had not been treated as an ordinary prisoner, but sent to New Carthage, and there during his recovery had been placed on parole. Hasdrubal, finding him of a somewhat pliant disposition, and hoping to make use of him later, had purposely kept him under semi-restraint only, and lodged him in some out-buildings within the palace grounds, to the walls of which he was confined. The Carthaginian General likewise occasionally entertained his prisoner at his own table.