Hannibal's daughter

by Andrew Haggard

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.

“Advance!” cried Hannibal, himself springing into a boat.

“Advance!” cried Mago, Chœras, Maharbal, and all the other officers.

Then, with a deafening cheer from the army in the boats, and deafening cheers also of encouragement from their comrades left upon the bank, the flotilla was set in motion. The Gauls, meanwhile, had assembled in their thousands upon the opposite shore, and, waving their spears, and shouting their hoarse war-cries, were gallantly awaiting their advancing foe.

Suddenly cries of alarm were heard from the Gallic ranks, as flames of fire were seen arising from the tents of their encampment, which they had left without a guard. Disconcerted, they turned their backs to the enemy on the river, to find themselves confronted by another and unexpected foe in the rear. General Hanno and all his men were upon them.

Rapidly the boats, amid renewed cheering, pushed to the shore; rapidly, too, were the first division landed and drawn up on the beach. Then ensued such a scene of carnage in the Gallic ranks as had never yet been heard of. In less than an hour Hannibal’s boast was fulfilled, and scarcely a man was left to tell the tale. Thus was accomplished the passage of the Rhone.

CHAPTER V.
AT THE FOOT OF THE ALPS.

When the carnage was completed and the last blow struck, Hannibal sent for his general of engineers. Monomachus shortly appeared before him, sword in hand, panting for breath, and covered with blood from head to foot. A large and long gash upon his swarthy cheek by no means lessened the ferocity of his appearance, at which Chœras, who was standing by, tittered audibly.

“Wherefore hast thou this most sanguinary aspect, oh my chief of pioneers?” quoth the general, in a tone of assumed severity, for he was really in high good humour. “Thou hast surely not quitted thy post on the opposite bank, where thy duties were to complete and guard the means of transport across the river, and joined in the fight wherewith thy duties had neither part nor parcel?”

Before replying, Monomachus calmly piled three corpses of the Gauls together, two below and then one on the top, upon which gruesome group he seated himself as comfortably as possible. Then wiping the blood streaming from his face, he replied:

“Nay, thanks be to the gods! I had no cause to leave my post on the elephant rafts to be able to slay a few of the cursed barbarians. But a party of about a dozen of them had in flight seized a boat, and, by the mercy of Moloch, just as I was fretting at mine inaction, they chanced to come my way. So I just killed the lot. One fellow, however, proved a bit nasty, and gave me this little remembrance.” Again he wiped his face. “He was the last of them all,” he continued, “so I had, fortunately, time to make an example of him, although he fought hard, and scarcely seemed to appreciate my kind attentions.”

“What didst thou do?” questioned Hannibal.

The butcher grinned ferociously, but made no reply at first.

“How didst thou make an example of him?” again questioned his commander.

“I took him by the waist,” answered Monomachus, “and, for all his struggles and cries, thrust his head into the mouth of that savage bull elephant, that king of beasts whom the men call Moloch. It was the champing up of his skull that has caused my armour and clothing to thus become somewhat discoloured.” And he looked down with a grim glance of satisfaction at his bloody attire.

“Methinks ’tis thou who should be named the king of beasts more rightly than the elephant after such an exploit as that; but, for all that, I thank thee, Monomachus, for thy skilful arrangements for the crossing of the river, and likewise for thy gallant defence of the raft, for Sosilus here, who was by me, taking notes as usual, pointed thee out to me while engaged in first killing the runaway Gauls, and then feeding the elephant on such unaccustomed food; and, by my troth, I think I saw thee slay nearer twenty than twelve of the barbarians. What was the exact number of them, by the by, Sosilus?”

“Ay,” responded the sage, “the carnage being almost completed on this bank, I, with a view to some amplifications of a work I am commencing, called, ‘Duties and Developments of Modern Warfare,’ turned my attention to thee, oh Monomachus! after having first noted that foolish young man, Chœras, finishing off, in most artistic style, a naked Gaul of twice his size, with whom he had been indulging in a somewhat prolonged combat. I requested him then to assist me in checking the numbers of the Gauls, whom thou mightest thyself despatch single-handed, which amounted in grand total to just—so Chœras reckoned—eighteen and a half.”

“Eighteen and a half?” grumped out the man of blood. “How could I kill eighteen men and a half? It must have been either eighteen or nineteen. I could not kill half a man.”

“Easily enough,” here interrupted Chœras, who was answerable for the numbers. “First thou didst slay eighteen barbarians, then thou didst half-kill a nineteenth. The remainder of him thou gavest, oh most bloody Monomachus, unto the elephant. Hence thou hast for thine own grand total of slain got evidently only eighteen and a half. And thus thou thyself hast killed half a man. It is simple enough when thou understandeth arithmetic.”

The jest was a good enough one for the occasion. Monomachus, who was not pleased at it, however, growled out a curse at Chœras and his flippant tongue, while Hannibal laughed outright.

“Well, repose thyself awhile on thy ghastly but apparently comfortable couch, oh thou slayer of half men, or half slayer of whole men, to quote Chœras, and then bring across the elephants. This evening will do, for the army will rest here until mid-day, and the cavalry and elephants, with which both I and thou will remain, will form the rear guard. After mid-day, the remainder of the army will march northward up the river, but we will ourselves first destroy the boats and rafts, and then follow. Should Scipio wish to cross in turn, he will be somewhat puzzled, I fancy. We will take our lightly-wounded with us on the elephants and spare horses; the rest, I regret to say, we shall have to destroy to avoid the risk they will otherwise run of torture or crucifixion if left behind. But now, methinks, we all want some food and wine, of which, fortunately, plenty hath been captured here.”

While Hannibal and Monomachus were talking, Mago and Maharbal rode up. The latter looked none the worse for his fall on the previous day, and both were flushed with the delights of victory. Mago threw himself from his horse and embraced his brother, after first throwing at his feet a mass of golden collars and necklaces he had brought in as spoils. Maharbal modestly remained by his horse after saluting the Chief. He also unloaded many spoils of golden ornaments, and laid them on the ground. He was unwounded and triumphant, his sword red with gore from point to hilt; but he was too exhausted to utter a word. He had that day, indeed, dealt death to many a Gaul, and richly revenged his reverse at the hands of Scipio’s cavalry. Hannibal knew how to reward valour, and knew also full well the meaning of the old Roman proverb that he gives twice who gives quickly. Taking his own necklace, he threw it round Maharbal’s neck. Taking his own sword, he presented it to his general, Hanno, son of Bomilcar. To his brother Mago he gave nothing, save a return of the salute that his brother had given to him and a compliment.

“Mago, I knew already that thou wert my brother; this day thou hast proved also that thou art the son of Hamilcar.” And he fell upon his brother’s neck.

The troops, crowding round, shouted till they were hoarse in acclamation of this pithy sentence, and then the whole camp became for an hour or two a camp of rest.

A few days later, the whole Carthaginian army, having marched to the northward, found itself in the country of the Allobroges. These people were not particularly the allies of Rome, yet were subsidised by them, and therefore hostile to Hannibal. They were a race inhabiting the slopes of the Alps, and very warlike. Their numbers were great, and the mixed troops of the Carthaginian army were excessively alarmed at the opposition that they were likely to receive from this very hostile people. But a strange and lucky chance intervened. At the foot of the passes of the Alps, the advancing Carthaginian army suddenly came upon two armies, drawn up in warlike array, about to attack each other. These armies were those of a certain king of the Gauls and his brother, who were at war for the succession. Each sent to him, before the battle commenced, envoys asking his help. Hannibal instantly threw in his lot with the elder brother, and together they fell upon the other, and, after a short but bloody fight, routed him completely. After this the Carthaginian troops were so welcomed with wine and food, and every other species of enjoyment, that for a day or two all discipline was relaxed in the camp, and all hardships forgotten. And then the Gallic king, having furnished the invaders with all kind of provisions, with new weapons, with pack horses and mules, ay, even boots for all the army, set forth with them, giving guides for an advance guard across the first Alpine ranges, and himself, with all his own forces, forming a rear guard for the army for protection against the Allobroges. But at the foot of the Alps, with many regrets, he left Hannibal, for this king of the Gauls was not strong enough to leave his own kingdom further.

Abandoned by their ally, the Carthaginian forces were appalled as they reached the foot of the first range, for from the plain below every vantage point could be seen gleaming with the spears of the Allobroges, who were determined to resist to the death the further advance of the Phœnician forces.

The enemy crowded every mountain-top; they thronged in the pass itself; it looked, indeed, as if the way were barred as by bars of iron. At least, so it seemed to all the army, except to the brave and astute Commander himself. For a few days he encamped at the foot of the pass, remaining inactive, and resting his men. During this period, the worthy Sosilus frequently pointed out that, according to parallel cases, the only thing to be done was to go round and advance by some other way. Chœras, likewise, when appealed to in council round the camp fire, merely broke forth into verse. He did not like mountain warfare; the plains suited him far better as a cavalry soldier; further, he was one of those who wanted first to go back to the coast, fight and defeat the Romans there, and proceed the rest of the way to Italy by sea.

Therefore, when Hannibal, although well knowing his own mind as usual, merely to keep his officers in good humour, asked the opinion of each, including Chœras, the latter answered while tossing off a cup of wine:—

“Most brave Commander, since thou wilt

The way seek out, ’tis plain,

For mountains suit not cavalry,

And elephants are vain.

Thus to the low ground keep thy force,

And march south to the coast,

There scourge the Roman with the horse

That is thine army’s boast.

Then from Iberia fetch the fleet,

’Twill danger save and toil,

While we, refresh’d, shall Romans meet

Upon Italian soil.”

Hannibal merely smiled, and then turned to Monomachus.

“And what wouldst thou do, my blood-thirsty general of engineers? Canst thou not build us a bridge overhead of these barbarians, or else dig us a tunnel below them. For to the other side of the Alps we go or die.”

Monomachus rose, and lifting his sword, shook it savagely in the direction of the foe on the heights ere he replied.

“Build thee a bridge, Hannibal? Ay, that can I, if thou but let me head the van. I will build thee a solid bridge over the living with the bodies of the dead. Dig thee a tunnel? Ay, that will I also with this good sword, right through their livers and intestines. ’Tis a kind of engineering that suits me right well, and I long to be at it now. My right arm is grown quite stiff for want of practice; ’tis nigh fifteen days since I have slain a Gaul, for I was engaged in road-mending during thy fight the other day. But now, methinks, the time hath come for my subordinate Hasdrubal to do a little more of the road-making work, and for me to get back to mine old trade of fighting. I must appeal to my good friend Sosilus to find me some parallel cases. Say, oh learned one, hast thou not at thy command some quotation ready from the ninety-ninth chapter of the hundred and eleventh book of someone or another wherewith to convince our gallant Commander that I am far more adapted to wield a sword than a pick-axe?”

“Ay, indeed,” answered Sosilus readily; “there is just such a case on record, and I have it here in a pamphlet which I have among many others in the pockets of my tunic.”

He commenced fumbling in his bosom, but before he had time to demonstrate with chapter and verse the similarity of the cases, several Gauls arrived on the scene, to whom Hannibal instantly gave private audience in his tent.

They were spies from among the guides supplied by the friendly Gallic king, and they had important news to communicate.

When presently Hannibal re-issued from his tent he once more addressed Monomachus.

“Thy wish shall be granted; thou shalt come with me, and that this very night, and thy weapon in sooth shall be a sword, not a pick-axe. For I find that yonder hostile barbarians stay not on the heights by night, but retire to a town within the hills, of which the name is called, I think, Brundisium, daily re-occupying their posts at dawn. I myself shall therefore creep up the passes this night with a chosen band and occupy the points of vantage whereon we see their armour now shining. At daybreak the rest of the army, under command of General Hanno, will commence the ascent, all the cavalry and the pack animals being placed in the van; then the infantry. Lastly, the elephants will follow with a rear-guard under thy lieutenant Hasdrubal, the pioneer, who will destroy the road after them for a double purpose—to prevent the Gauls from pursuing us, and to prevent our own men from retreating. For, once embarked upon these Alpine passes, there is to be no going backward. We conquer or we die; we do not return.”

Then spoke up Mago. “Brother, thou art the Commander-in-chief. It is not meet that thou shouldst go upon this hazardous expedition by night upon these unknown mountain passes. What will the army do if thou shouldst fall either by the hand of the enemy, or over some precipice? General Hanno is, indeed, most worthy of all trust, but it is not to him that the whole force looks for confidence. Therefore, I pray thee, send me forward in thy stead this night, and stay thou here. My life is of little worth—thine all important.”

“Not so, Mago,” answered Hannibal; “if confidence be needed it will be gained by seeing that the first man to mount the Alpine passes is the Commander-in-chief himself. But give thou unto me thine own sword, ’tis one of our father Hamilcar’s, and will bring me luck this night, for it was blessed in the temple of Moloch in Carthage; mine own I gave unto Hanno. I will wield it in thine honour and mine own, and return it unto thee to-morrow if I yet live. Meanwhile, take thou another from those I have in my tent; I have several there of great value and good metal.”

With great ceremony, and invoking the blessing of the gods, Mago arose and invested Hannibal with his sword, a magnificent weapon of truest steel which had, indeed, been borne by Hamilcar in many a fight.

That night all the watch-fires were lighted as usual in front of the Carthaginian lines. Nothing in the camp indicated that an advance was intended, and the Gauls on the heights, deceived completely by the apparent inaction on the part of the foe, retired as usual from the mountain crests crowning the passes, to the shelter of the walled town in the valley on the farther side of this first range of the Alps.

A little before midnight, when the camp fires had burned low, Hannibal himself started from the camp and commenced the dangerous ascent of the mountain. No lights had he and his men to guide their footsteps, but painfully and in silence, they stumbled on, ever upwards, over rock and boulder, until they found and occupied the breastworks which the Gauls had evacuated at nightfall. With Hannibal were Monomachus and Chœras in command of a party of dismounted cavalry. There were, in addition, about one thousand men, who toiled wearily upwards after their bold Commander. It being now near the end of the month of October, cold indeed were the hours of waiting through the night, which this gallant band were compelled to endure in the chilly pass. No moving about was possible after once they had gained their positions, and many a man who had become overheated in the ascent that night contracted a chill that ere long laid him low. It was, indeed, a toilsome and terrible night march which these soldiers of a warmer climate had to endure, and many a man stumbled in the dark and fell over the precipices into the roaring torrent below, his armour resounding with many a clang as it beat against the rocks in the wretched man’s downward course.

But for those who fell there was no succour. If they were dead, they were dead, and their troubles were over; if they still survived, they were left to die miserably in the dark and gloomy ravines wherein they had fallen. For who could help them? This was merely the commencement of the crossing of the Alps, and they merely the advance party! How many thousand more would fall ere the fair plains of Italy should be won?

At daybreak, the army, under Hanno, commenced in turn the ascent of the pass. The Gauls instantly set forth to intercept them, and crowning the heights, hurled down huge stones and pieces of rock from every side, creating the most terrible distress and confusion among the defenceless infantry men in the pass, and speedily likewise driving the pack horses, mules, and cavalry animals into a state of perfect frenzy. These creatures, many of them being wounded, rushed madly up and down the narrow road, driving hundreds of men over the precipices in their headlong flight, and many of them falling themselves also.

Meanwhile the Allobroges, climbing down the mountain side like goats, pillaged the fallen warriors, after first brutally cutting their throats, pillaged also the fallen pack animals, and in many cases escaped safely again up the further mountain’s side with their booty.

Hannibal, however, seeing the terrible confusion into which the whole of his army was thrown by this dreadful onslaught, resolved upon instant action.

“Chœras,” quoth he, “take thou three hundred men. Crown these heights on the left of the pass, creep over them, but keep thy force together. Then charge and destroy all the pillagers who have crossed the ravine. I myself, with Monomachus, will charge with our remaining men on the other side of the ravine where the enemy are thickest.”

Like an avalanche rushing down the Alps, did Hannibal, sword in hand, charge at the head of his men down slopes upon which they could scarcely keep their feet, so steep they were, but the steepness added to the impetus of their terrible onrush. The Allobroges turned and fled towards the city of the hills. They were, however, cut down and slaughtered almost to a man; and Hannibal and his men, still cutting down and slaughtering as they advanced, rushed in after the fugitives through the gates of the city. The inhabitants were instantly put to the sword as a warning to other tribes living on the slopes of the mountains, and an enormous booty of cattle, corn, and pack horses was captured.

The city was in a fertile valley, and the army encamped in and round about it for one day to rest.

Thus did Hannibal, by his own personal prowess, although with serious loss to his army, successfully storm the first of the terrible Alpine ranges.

CHAPTER VI.
OVER THE ALPS.

For the next three days the advance up the passes was continued in peace. The Gauls came in, offering garlands and branches of trees in token of goodwill, and gave also hostages and cattle. Hannibal wisely pretended to trust them, thus securing a period of cessation from hostilities; but, in reality, he remained ever on the alert, and made all his dispositions accordingly, keeping his cavalry and pack animals in front to prevent their being cut off, and following in rear himself with all the heavy-armed infantry.

He was not in the least surprised when on the fourth day a determined attack was made upon him by large forces of the enemy, as the army was passing through a long, narrow, and precipitous gorge, where the Gauls once more created terrible confusion among his troops, by rolling down stones and boulders from above, and, by their superior position on the slopes above him, actually for a time cutting him off with the infantry from all the cavalry and baggage animals ahead, among whom terrible losses occurred. The maddened animals dashed hither and thither, and fell over the precipices, many an unfortunate warrior going with them in their headlong flight. But Mago and Maharbal, with indomitable courage, pushed ever onward and upwards despite all obstacles, while for a whole night long Hannibal and the infantry had to take shelter beneath a rock, which was so precipitous that the Gallic tribes themselves were unable to climb it or use it as a point of vantage from which to throw down missiles.

Meanwhile Hasdrubal, the pioneer, following in the extreme rear with the elephants, destroyed the road as he went, thus making it impossible for any of the army to fly by the road whence they had come. This rear guard was fortunately not attacked, for the Gauls were so terrified by the awful appearance of the elephants, whom they imagined to be evil spirits or malignant gods, that they dared not even to approach the part of the line where they were. When daybreak came, the army emerged from the pass, and the enemy, too terrified to attack in force on more open ground, retired.

At length, after nine more terrible nights and days, during the whole of which the army was being continually harassed by parties of the foe cutting off stragglers or attacking the baggage, the gallant Chief arrived with his army at the head of the pass. Here, despite the bitter cold, he encamped on the snow for a couple of days, to rest his men and wait for stragglers to come up.

The men were now in a deplorable condition, and their spirits at the lowest possible ebb. Therefore, assembling as many of them as possible around him, and pointing to the panorama of the fair plains of Italy below, Hannibal addressed them as follows:

“My gallant troops, difficulty, danger, and death now lie behind us, but before us lie Italy and Rome. Gaze, therefore, before and below ye as conquerors, for all that fair country shall be ours. The tribes below are our friends, and will welcome us heartily. Therefore keep ye up your courage, for soon the spoils of Rome shall reward ye for all your hardships.”

The courage of the troops was roused by these words; but alas! if the ascent had been difficult, harder by far was the descent of the mountain slopes. For owing to new snow having fallen upon the old, there was no foothold. Thus men and horses in numbers slipped and fell headlong down the slopes and precipices, rolling over and over, and bounding from rock to rock, to finally land, battered into pulp, thousands of feet below. And then they came to a place where, for a great distance, two land slides and avalanches had carried away the whole mountain-side, and the road with it. Never daunted, however, Hannibal, Monomachus, and Hasdrubal, his pioneer captain, built in two days, with the Numidian troops, an entirely new road over the mountain-side, over which first the infantry, then the cavalry and baggage animals, and lastly, even the elephants themselves were passed in safety. But all the survivors, both men and animals alike, were nearly dead from starvation, when at length, after fifteen days in the terrible mountains, the snow was left behind, and the land of the Taurini, bordering that of the friendly Insubrian Gauls, was entered on the plains.

But, whereas Hannibal had started to cross the Alps with nearly double that number, when the muster was taken round the camp fires on the first night after the awful journey over the mountains, only twelve thousand Libyans, eight thousand Iberians, and six thousand cavalry of all kinds, were present to answer the roll-call.

And with this small force of starving and disheartened troops Hannibal now prepared to meet all the might of Rome.

So wretched, indeed, were the troops, that not even the fact of their having at length reached the Italian side of the mountains in Cis-Alpine Gaul could at first put any heart into them. It was now the commencement of the month of November, the oak trees were shedding their leaves, and the grass and herbage losing rapidly the succulent qualities necessary to sustain the animals. All traces of cultivation had long since been removed from the fields, while the wind sighed and moaned sadly through those vast forests of pine, the home of the wolf and the wild boar, the shelter of whose gloomy recesses the half-starved army was glad enough to seek.

Biting showers of rain and sleet added to the discomfort of the troops, and at first the Insubrian Gauls showed but little alacrity in bringing in the much-needed provisions. Altogether, now that this remnant of the Carthaginian army had at length reached, after five and a half months’ marching, this land of promise, it fell far below their expectations. The whole outlook was indeed so gloomy that there was not an officer nor man in the whole army who did not heartily wish himself back again in his own home in the sunny lands and olive groves of Spain or Libya.

To make things even yet worse, one or two Gallic towns in the neighbourhood, among them notably the city of the Taurini, which might have accorded shelter to the half-famished troops, being fearful of Roman retribution, flatly refused to open their gates to the wayworn wanderers. This was scarcely to be wondered at, seeing that the Consul Flaminius had but a short time before defeated the Boii, the Insubres, and other Gallic tribes repeatedly, and treated the survivors with the greatest severity, taking many hostages, who were now entirely at the mercy of the Romans; and founding two Roman colonies, named respectively Placentia and Cremona, one on either bank of the river Padus or Po, right in the midst of Cis-Alpine Gaul.

As Hannibal, accompanied by Silenus and by all his principal officers, marched round and made a thorough inspection of the camp a day or two after arriving in the Italian plains, it must be owned that even he himself felt utterly discouraged. For wherever he looked, whether at man or beast, he saw nothing but misery and starvation. The thirty-seven elephants with which he had started were already considerably diminished in number, many having fallen down the Alpine precipices, and the remainder were now but gaunt mountains of skin and bone. The horses tethered in rows showed distinctly every rib in their carcases, and hung down their heads with fatigue while patient misery was expressed in their lack-lustre eyes. Among the men, not the slightest element of discipline had been relaxed; but, as they stood in their ranks before their tents for the inspection of their Commander-in-chief, looking like phantoms of their former selves, utter dejection could clearly be read in every countenance. Except for the want of a little food they were in hard enough condition, but there was not sufficient food to be obtained by fair means, and the men did not look either strong enough or in good enough spirits to obtain it by force of arms. That, however, was what Hannibal intended that they should do, and he took, therefore, very good care neither to show by his face the disappointment which he felt at their miserable plight, nor the fact that he had received alarming news, which, had it been known publicly, would have made the men more disheartened still.

Instead of doing anything likely to keep the troops in a despondent state, he spoke, as he went along the ranks, words of commendation and encouragement to all. He praised their valour, told them that their names would live in history, informed them that he had received ambassadors with promises of assistance from the Boii, and generally tried to cheer their waning hopes. After this, he held before the army some gladiatorial contests among the young Gallic captives, whose condition was so miserable from the ill-treatment and blows they had received in crossing the Alps, that the army would have pitied the survivors even more than the slain had not their Commander rewarded the conquerors liberally with horses, cloaks, and suits of armour.

After these contests he addressed the army. He pointed out to them that their own condition was similar to that of the captive Gauls whom they had just seen fighting, and that, if they maintained a stout heart, either victory and great rewards would be theirs, or a death nobly won on the field of battle; but that if flight were attempted it must be useless. For how, Hannibal urged, would any attempt at flight be successful back over those terrible mountains and all through the country of Gallia to Spain? Therefore, since any attempt at flight would be useless, a stout heart, a stout arm, and a determination to conquer were all that were needful, and victory and numerous spoils would most assuredly be theirs.

Having cheered all the men with these words, and being ably seconded by the superior officers, who were themselves once more fired with his enthusiasm, the Commander, on the following few days, attacked with fury Turin and the other Gallic towns that had withstood him, and speedily carried them by assault. And after this provisions were plentiful, everything was more cheerful in camp, and thousands of Gauls, both Insubrians and Boii, commenced to come in daily, and attach themselves to the Carthaginian standard.

Before, therefore, Hannibal thought it necessary to inform his officers and the army of the news that he had received, he found himself in an entirely different position in which to meet the Romans from that in which he had been a week previously.

And he was indeed about to meet the Romans, and that very shortly, for his news was that Scipio had rapidly returned by sea from Marseilles to Italy, and was already nigh at hand.

“Hast thou heard the news, Maharbal?” quoth Chœras, early one morning, bursting into the tent that they occupied in common, and flinging down his sword and shield, “hast thou heard the news? It seemeth that Publius Scipio hath returned from Massilia, and landed with a small force at some place in Etruria. Moreover, he hath, while travelling northward, crossed the mountain range called the Apennines, traversed the country of the Boii, and is at this moment at the new Roman city or colony called Placentia, on the other side of the Padus. Scipio is not, in fact, very many stadia from the place where we now are ourselves, since this river Ticinus whereon we are encamped floweth into the Padus, as thou knowest, not very far above Placentia.”

Maharbal was resting where he had been sleeping on a couch of wolf skins on the floor of the tent. As he rose to a sitting posture, he looked a very different man to what he had been at the time of the cavalry fight on the banks of the Rhone—so gaunt was he and drawn, that the muscles of his neck and biceps stood out now like wires of steel, for there was no flesh to conceal them. He had been dreaming a dream of love, with Elissa as its heroine, and was angry at being disturbed. He laughed aloud scornfully.

“Wilt thou never have done with thy foolish jesting, Chœras? But this is indeed a sorry jest of thine. Publius Cornelius Scipio already at Placentia! Why, ’tis not yet a month since I bore off his young cub of a son almost into our lines at the camp upon the Rhodanus. Nay, nay, my merry-hearted lieutenant, I may know more of horses than geography, more of dealing death than determining distances, but this is just a little too much. If this were all the cause thou hadst to disturb me, I would that thou had left me to sleep, for I am in sooth sorely fatigued after pursuing and cutting down the last force of those dogs of Taurini the whole of yesterday.”

The young Colossus sank back upon his couch, and would have slept again if his comrade had but allowed him.

“A sorry jest! I would it were but a sorry jest,” returned Chœras; “but, by the head of Hannibal, it is unfortunately no jest, but true. I had it from Hannibal himself. It seems that the Chief, and Silenus also, hath known the matter for these several days past, but it was purposely kept secret until after we had conquered the Taurini, which conquest hath now raised the hearts of our men, and induced also many of the Gauls to rally around us. It appeareth that Scipio at first followed us, but finding we had crossed the Rhone, after returning to Massilia himself, he sent his brother, Cnœus Scipio, with most of the Roman army on into Spain to fight with Hasdrubal; then he came to Pisa by ship, with very few men, but at Placentia there are, unfortunately for us, a Roman legion or two which were assembled to hold the Gauls in check during the late Gallic rising; there are also a large number of Gallic cavalry in the Roman pay. In addition to all this about Scipio, the General hath imparted to us other weighty news. It appears that the other Roman consul, Tiberius Sempronius, hath been recalled from Sicily, where he was about to make a descent upon Carthage itself, after having defeated a Punic fleet off Lilybæum, and alas! captured Malta. He is now, so Hannibal informs us, at a place on the Adriatic coast called Ariminum, and is encamped there with a very large force. Hannibal is anxious, if possible, to prevent a junction of the two forces.”

“Then this is no place for me!” cried Maharbal, springing to his feet, and hastily buckling on his armour; “there can be no rest for the weary with such tidings as these.” And he picked up his sword and buckler and strode off to the General’s tent, after first directing Chœras to go round to the cavalry lines, and to see that all the horses were instantly properly groomed and fed, and that all the men remained in camp. For he expected more work shortly, though he did not know how soon it might be.

Hannibal was sitting at the door of his tent studying a map which the worthy Sosilus was explaining. He rose as Maharbal approached, and welcomed him warmly. He knew that Maharbal with a portion of his force had only returned very late in the night from the prolonged and bloody pursuit of the Taurini. Chœras, who had been left in camp, had borne him a verbal report sent by Maharbal to that effect and delivered upon Hannibal’s awakening. But he had not seen his well-beloved Numidian leader since his return, and therefore questioned him anxiously.

“And so, Maharbal, my lad, thou hast, it seems, entirely disposed of the last of the Taurini. Hast made many prisoners?”

“Nay, my lord, I made no prisoners. I deemed it wiser, since they were our enemies and evidently the friends of Rome, to kill all whom we should overtake! ’Twill also make the other and friendly Gauls all the more friendly, than had we spared those of a disaffected tribe. But some of them fought hard and ’twould, methinks, have been no easy job to make prisoners of them.”

“Fought, did they? the dogs! And hadst thou any losses, Maharbal?”

“Ay, alas! I had, and far too many for a mere pursuit; they amount, unfortunately, to no less than thirty killed and wounded men, my lord Hannibal, of whom fifteen are dead. Among them was a most gallant young fellow, the ensign Proxenus. He was a Greek by birth, but came over from Libya with the last reinforcement. He will be indeed a serious loss, for he had both brains and bravery in equal proportions.”

“Proxenus! is Proxenus, that likely youth, dead? Alas, I grieve to hear it, and especially that ’twere his lot to fall against such an unworthy foe as the Taurini. ’Tis sad, indeed. But so it wert not thou thyself, Maharbal, my grief is fleeting, for daily do we lose useful men, and young men, too; but they can be replaced. Had it been thou now, ah, that would indeed have been another matter. Therefore see to it, Maharbal,” the Chief continued, with a smile, “that thou let not thyself be killed for many a long day to come. For Carthage could ill dispense with thy services either at present or in the future.”

Maharbal flushed and bowed at the compliment, and then Hannibal called to a slave to bring a stool, and bade him be seated. After this two Gallic chieftains, who had brought in intelligence, were called, and together Hannibal and Maharbal, aided by the learned Sosilus, worked out on the map from their information the respective positions of the various forces now in the field. When this had been accomplished, Hannibal rose, folded up the map, and dismissed Sosilus. Then turning to Maharbal he inquired the state of his men and horses, and if they would be in a fit condition to march again that same afternoon or evening if required absolutely to do so.

“March, ay, they could march, my lord, a short march, and could even fight a little at a pinch; but to fight, and fight well, against fresh troops, especially after themselves making first a long march, they would be quite unfit. It would be but throwing away uselessly the lives of both men and horses.”

“And we can spare neither. Well, we must let it be until to-morrow, when both men and horses have been rested. There are some other advantages about the delay. We shall not have so far to march as will the enemy before we meet them, and therefore our horses will be the fresher. The Gauls said that Scipio is building and hath almost completed a bridge across the Ticinus, by which to cross and attack us. If we with our horse can only catch his cavalry apart from his infantry and drive the attack home well in front and flanks, we will force him right back to the crossing place, and perhaps inflict considerable slaughter ere he can again pass the bridge. Meanwhile, listen to my plan for the strong cavalry reconnaissance which I intend to make to-morrow, in hopes of meeting Scipio while similarly employed. I shall personally, attended by General Monomachus, whom for the future I shall definitely appoint to the cavalry, lead the Iberian horse, which will be in the centre. Thou wilt divide thy Numidian horse into two parties, one to remain on each flank. After that thou thyself knowest what to do, as usual being guided by circumstances, which I must leave to thine own judgment to be met as required. And now, Maharbal, ’twere wise that thou shouldst retire and take the rest that thou must greatly require.”

“Nay, Hannibal, I require no rest. I am quite sufficiently restored from all fatigue by the hopes of so soon meeting the Romans once more, for my heart burns with shame within my breast when I think of how I was compelled to fly before them when last we met.”

“Tush, man! thou didst not fly; thy troops yielded to superior numbers, that was all, and I sent thee out not to fight that day, but to see what the enemy were about. Moreover, thou thyself didst nearly end the war, and at the very first encounter, by carrying off young Scipio. But ’twas not to be—and now, for a space, I would speak of other matters. Come within the tent; ’tis chilly without. We will take a cup of wine.”

Maharbal entered with his Chief, who carefully closed the entrance of his tent, after having first summoned a slave to bring him a flagon and some wine-cups, which were filled.

CHAPTER VII.
HANNIBAL’S FIRST TRIUMPH.

“Now, Maharbal,” quoth the chief, “I would talk to thee no longer as one general to another, but simply as man to man. What about my daughter Elissa? Hast thou forgotten her? Hath not perchance all this terrible fighting for the last six months knocked all the love nonsense with which thou wast imbued out of thy warlike head, or is there still left paramount therein the memory of that girl of mine? Now, wilt thou answer plainly, for I have something to propose to thee which may be of importance?”

Maharbal made no answer, but Hannibal rose, unlocked a small casket and drew out a scroll, which he perused while waiting for a reply.

“Well,” he remarked, seeing that no reply came, “I would know thy mind on this matter, my friend.”

“Hannibal,” said Maharbal, rising in turn, and confronting his Chief, “Hannibal,”—then he paused and threw down his sword with a somewhat angry and impatient movement—“by what right dost thou talk to me of Elissa? What is it to thee if I should think of her still or no? As a warrior and my Chief I may listen to thee, ay, both must and would listen to thee; but what have women to do with me now? I am here to fight for Carthage and mine honour, ay, and for thine own honour, too, Hannibal, but nothing more.”

“Honour is honour, but friendship is friendship. War is also war, and we are all for our country; but private interests, nevertheless, rule us all at times. Thou knowest this as well as I, therefore, as friend to friend, tell me now the truth, Maharbal.”

“Well, the truth is this, Hannibal. When I meet a foe and he confronts me,”—Maharbal excitedly arose and seized his sword and shook it savagely—“I say to myself, ‘This for Elissa.’ Then I strike home. When my foe is struck down and bleeding at my feet, and the point of my weapon is at his throat, again I sometimes say to myself, ‘I spare thee for the sake of Elissa,’ and thus it ofttimes haps that a human life is saved. When again I charge into the battle, the one sweet name Elissa is ever on my lips. When I was day after day in those terrible passes of the Alps, and the rocks and boulders falling all around me slew so many of my friends and fellow-warriors, but one thought arose to my brain, and it was this, I care not for death itself, but will Elissa regret me? And now, Hannibal, my friend and my Chief, thou hast thine answer; I need say no more.”

“Nay,” said Hannibal, “thou hast said enough; I understand thee—thou art constant. But will she be equally constant? It may be years ere thou see her again. But young is she, and springing from a very passionate stock; her mother was an Iberian woman. What wouldst thou do supposing that she proved inconstant unto thee and loved another?”

“Do?—why, fight for Carthage still. What else could I do? Ay, and scorn her, too, if inconstant; nought else could be done than that.”

“Well, listen, I have something to propose. Thou seest this scroll. ’Tis a letter to my daughter Elissa. To-morrow we may have a fight, not with these Gauls alone, who have already learned to fear me, but with Scipio himself, with Roman legions at his back.

“It may be that, owing to the somewhat demoralised condition of our army, Scipio should prove victorious; it may be otherwise; yet my belief in the gods is so great, that I think I shall overthrow him. Whatever may chance, I must send my messengers with tidings back into Iberia to say that we are now safely across the Alps; to inform first my daughter Elissa at New Carthage, and then to bear intelligence unto my brother Hasdrubal, in those northern parts beyond the Ebro, where, I have learned, that Cnœus Scipio hath proceeded to attack him. Now, Maharbal, I need a trusty messenger; wilt thou be the bearer of the message? I have in the camp a chieftain of the Insubrian Gauls, who hath promised me a small fleet of ships at Genua, by which thou couldst proceed to New Carthage, where Elissa will doubtless warmly welcome thee to her loving arms. Wilt thou go? that is if thou shouldst survive to-morrow’s fight. Think, my lad, after all this hardship, how sweet will be the delights of love. Moreover, now that thou hast, by thine incessant toil and valour, brought the cavalry, or rather a great part of it, over the mountains in safety, know this, I will no longer withstand thy wish. Thy nuptials with my daughter shall be recognised, and thou and Elissa shall be man and wife.”

Maharbal’s face flushed as he leaned forward on his seat and gazed at Hannibal with undisguised astonishment.

“My lord Hannibal, hast thou then forgotten the toast we drank to one another at Saguntum? ’Tis true I love Elissa more than all the world as a woman; but I love thee, mine own honour, and my country Carthage, more than any woman living, be she even thine own daughter and mine own beloved bride. Therefore must I decline to leave thy side, oh Hannibal, to seek repose in thy dearest and most beloved daughter’s arms. My duty is here, and here, with all deference unto thee, I stay. Through life and death I am thine, but to do thy bidding in our country’s cause. My personal longings and lovings are now things unknown. I fight for Hannibal and for Carthage; all else is forgotten, or, if not forgotten, must and shall be crushed from out my breast. And yet, the gods are my witness, I love Elissa far more than all.”

Maharbal rose, and sought to leave the tent; but as he rose, Hannibal detained him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I admire thee, Maharbal, far more than if thou hadst acceded to my request. In truth thou hast enacted a right noble part. But should we both live, I shall not forget it, and thou thyself wilt not regret it. Should we die, I feel convinced that all the gods who, in my vision, promised me a future reward, will recognise thy virtue, and bestow a far higher reward upon thee. Ay, Melcareth shall smile and shower his blessings upon thee. Tanais shall make thee happy with such a thrilling and heavenly love as never yet mortal hath known; while the great Moloch, god of war, shall surely exalt thee to high rank in his celestial armies. Thou hast, indeed, chosen the higher and the better path. I pray the great god Melcareth, that, in my prolonged absence from her side, he inspire Elissa’s heart also with devotion to her country, with constancy and virtue. But ’twill be merit great, indeed, to be worthy of a virtue so great as thine. And now, let us go forth, since I must seek some other messenger to bear her my scroll, and thou thyself canst, if thou wilt, despatch a letter by the same hand. But nothing can be done before we have first once met the Romans here on Italian soil.”

The rest of the day was spent in that camp by the Ticinus in preparations for the great cavalry reconnaissance, which Hannibal intended to conduct in person, on the morrow. Armour was furbished up, swords and darts were sharpened, bits and bridles were seen to. All the cavalrymen, even although the infantry suffered somewhat in consequence, were thoroughly well fed, and also supplied with a liberal allowance of wine. Olive oil was dealt out to them all, wherewith to anoint themselves and make their limbs supple, and a day’s rations, to be carried on the morrow, was served out to each man. Scouts from a reserve body of horse, that was not to be employed in any fighting on the morrow, were sent out to watch the enemy’s movements, with instructions to leave a series of detached posts at intervals, by whom, owing to there being thus relays of fresh horsemen ready, news could be swiftly conveyed to the Carthaginian Chief of Scipio’s slightest movements. All these details Hannibal, not content with trusting to subordinates, saw to personally, for as he was, saving only Maharbal, the strongest man in the army, so was he also the most indefatigable. Throughout the whole of that day, therefore, he scarcely rested, but visited every part of the camp and every troop in turn, seeing that his instructions were carried out absolutely to the letter, and speaking grand and noble words of encouragement wherever he passed.

When, therefore, after a substantial breakfast, the whole of the cavalry paraded on the following morn, it was no longer a starveling, dispirited body of men that fell beneath his gaze, but a gallant band of warriors bearing confidence in their glance, self-reliant, proud, and anxious for the fray. Well satisfied with the noble bearing of his followers, after having first ridden round the ranks and complimented his men upon their brave and soldierly appearance, Hannibal bade his trumpeter sound the advance, and himself led the way. As he put his horse in motion, the whole army burst spontaneously into a cheer—“Hannibal! Long live Hannibal.”

Clad in gorgeous but serviceable armour, with dancing plumes waving from the crest of his helmet, the gallant Carthaginian General was indeed, as he marched forth that morn to meet the Romans for the first time in his career, such a leader as the world had never seen.

As the cavalry, by troops and squadrons, filed off in succession after him, silence fell among their ranks. But the infantry soldiers and also the Gauls remaining behind in camp continued the shouts of enthusiasm. “Hannibal! Long live Hannibal!” For it was for him, the General alone, and his personal influence, more than for a Carthage which was to most of them but a name, that these troops, drawn from many mixed tribes and nations, were willing and ready to lay down their lives. And it was ever so; it was Hannibal’s army, not a Carthaginian army that so often defeated Rome.

Thus gallantly encouraged by the shouts of their comrades did the whole of the Carthaginian horse march off down the banks of the river Ticinus. For a considerable distance the ground was broken and rocky, and considerably wooded, and not at all suitable for the manœuvring of mounted troops. But, at length, after a march of some three hours’ duration, just at the very spot which suited his purpose, Hannibal was met by the first of his scouts coming in and informing him that Scipio had started with his forces, and was now crossing the river. They gave the further information that there was no occasion for hurry, as each relay of messengers had galloped back hard, and that the remainder of the vedettes, now retiring leisurely before the advancing foe, would give timely warning of their nearer approach.

The ground whereon the front of the column was standing when this news arrived was at the edge of an extensive copse of detached oak trees, beyond which was a large open plain of what had earlier in the year been cultivated ground. Drawing up all his forces just inside the edge, and in the shelter of the trees, in the order of battle which he intended to employ later on, the Chief now gave the order for the men to dismount to rest the animals, and to eat a portion of the rations that they had brought with them. He had a short time previously made each troop halt in turn at a convenient shallow place in the river Ticinus to give their horses a mouthful of water—therefore no possible precaution had been neglected to bring his forces fresh into battle. While halting in the shelter of the oak trees, several more groups of messengers came in from the front. From these Hannibal learned without a doubt that Scipio was advancing only with his cavalry and light-armed footmen, and that from all accounts the numbers of the former were, if anything, somewhat inferior to his own.

He was in high glee as he stood talking to a group of his officers, and rubbed his hands cheerfully.

“Melcareth hath surely delivered them unto us,” he said, “for this foolish Scipio hath, by leaving his heavy-armed infantry behind, played beautifully into my hands. And thou, my bloodthirsty Monomachus, shalt soon have thy fill of slaying.”

“I care nought so that I slay but Scipio himself! So that ere I perish myself, I dip my hand into the life-blood of the Roman Consul, I shall die happy.”

Hannibal laughed, then gave the order to mount, but for the troops still to remain within the fringe of the covert underneath the spreading oaks.

While waiting thus, there suddenly arose a fleeting squall of driving wind and rain, which tore the leaves with fury from the oaks, sending them whirling in all directions, while the acorns, which abounded, fell pattering and clattering in shoals upon the armour of the warriors. The men, who were superstitious, knew not how to interpret the augury; but their Chief was equal to the occasion.

“A glorious omen!” he proclaimed aloud, with a laugh. “Even as the falling of these acorns, so shall fall the hordes of the advancing enemy beneath the storm of our attack. See how the elephants are calmly picking them up, and devouring them! so shall we also devour the foe.”

The word was taken up and passed round, and now the men, reassured and in high good humour, caught the falling acorns and tossed them gleefully at one another. Meanwhile, as Hannibal had said, the huge elephants calmly waiting and swinging their fore-legs, picked up one by one with their trunks all the fallen acorns within reach and ate them with apparent relish. The sight of these huge painted and horrible beasts, thus picking up and eating the little acorns, was in itself so ludicrous that all those who could see the sight now roared with laughter like very children. For, as all know who have been present at a battle, during the time, be it short or long, that men are waiting anxiously for the signal that shall engage them in mortal conflict, the nerves are on edge. ’Tis then often the slightest and most trivial circumstance that will sway a whole host to tears or laughter, to reckless courage, or to shameful retreat. On this occasion the whole force was overcome with exuberance of spirits, and thus hearty and boyish laughter rippled along the ranks.

It was, in sooth, a strange sight to see these gigantic animals so peacefully enjoying themselves at such a moment with such trivial food. For to look at them they seemed more like monsters ready to devour men.

There were that day twenty-four of them present, twelve being placed at intervals on each flank. Every elephant had its head and trunk painted crimson with vermilion; the body was painted black, with white stripes on the ribs, and the legs white to the knee and red below. To each tusk, and all were tuskers, were fastened huge two-edged swords; round the upper part of each of the fore-legs was clasped a band set with terrible and glistening spikes; and, to crown all, each elephant had round its trunk, near the lower extremity, several heavy iron rings. With these they were trained to strike. An ordinary elephant is to those with weak nerves a sufficiently appalling sight. Judge, then, what would be the effect upon those, who had never seen the beasts before, of the appearance of these awful monsters. The elephants were that day in light marching order, and therefore they carried no castles. Instead, on the back of each was a light pad, on which sat, secured with ropes, and having also rope foot-rests, eight archers, four on each side, plentifully supplied with heavy arrows. Seated upon the neck of every beast was an Indian driver, completely covered with light armour of chain mail, and carrying, in addition to the goad with which he urged his beast, a quiver full of short and heavy darts to hurl at the foe at close quarters.

The order of battle was fully formed. The heavy Spanish cavalry were in the centre; then on each side were twelve elephants; beyond them again on each flank large bodies of the Numidian horse, Maharbal commanding the right wing, and Chœras the left of the Numidians.

Presently the last of the scouts came in, saying that the Romans were now close at hand, and almost instantly their light-armed javeline men and archers appeared, swarming on the plain. In rear of them, at a short distance, could be seen the allied Gallic and Roman cavalry advancing at a slow pace in a splendid line, with small intervals between the separate troops. Hannibal allowed the light-armed men to advance well out into the plain before he stirred from the shelter of the oak trees. Thus he was well able to take stock of the Roman numbers before engaging, while they could not possibly form any idea of the numbers that he had at his own command. Speedily sending an aide-de-camp to both Maharbal and Mago with orders to remain for a short time longer concealed in the forest, he now caused the “advance” and “the trot” to be sounded by his trumpeter. In a steady line, with himself and Monomachus at the head of the centre, the Iberian cavalry instantly emerged from their shelter, the huge elephants lumbering along with ungainly tread at an equal pace on each flank, and by command of their drivers, raising their trunks on high and loudly trumpeting as they advanced. The sudden appearance of this hitherto unseen army of cavalry, coupled with the awesome sight of these terrible and frightful creatures, at once struck terror into the heart of the light-armed Roman troops. Seeing that certain death awaited them if they remained, they instantly broke and fled, retreating through the intervals between the troops of cavalry, and re-forming into companies in rear. But Scipio himself, whose presence was denoted by a standard surmounted with the Roman eagle, was with the main body. He had previously exhorted them: saying that the Carthaginians were but curs with their tails between their legs, who had fled before his cavalry on the banks of the Rhone, and they believed him. Hence there was no flinching in the ranks.

Hannibal now ordered his trumpeter to sound “the gallop,” and in a second, with thundering footfall, the whole of his heavy cavalry, armed with both spears and swords, the latter being attached to the saddle, advanced with the speed of lightning.

Scipio also sounded “the charge,” but the retreat of his light-armed footmen had somewhat delayed him. Therefore, when the two forces met in shock of battle, the greater impetus being with the Carthaginians, the Romans were at first borne backwards, hundreds of men and horses being cast to the ground at the very first dreadful onslaught. It was a terrible and an awful sight, that fearful rush and the meeting between the two cavalry forces. And now it was every man for himself, and both sides were equally determined. The Romans, at first borne back, soon rallied; spears on both sides were cast away as the horses fell in hundreds, and, foot to foot and hand to hand, the whole plain was soon one seething and struggling mass of murdering humanity. Now, however, the elephants came in upon each flank of the Romans. Charging down, striking with their trunks, destroying with their horrible scythe-like swords, frequently kneeling upon and crushing their opponents, they carried all before them on the flanks. All the time, the archers on their backs discharged from close quarters the heavy-headed arrows from their bows. The effect of this charge on the flanks, however, was but to consolidate the Roman centre. Gallantly the Romans fought, never yielding a foot, and many were the Iberians who fell before their dreadful valour never to rise again. In the midst of all, mounted on a splendid bay charger, was Publius Scipio. Separated from him at but a short distance was Hannibal, above whom, borne by his ensign, waved the flag of Carthage, the white horse upon a purple ground. The two Generals could, for a while, plainly see each other, and, each grinding his teeth and shaking his fist with rage at the other, they tried to come to mortal combat. But it was in vain: the struggling, thrusting, killing throng of men, swaying first this way and then that, swept them apart, and in a short time the rush of battle had severed them completely. Each had now to defend himself, and they saw one another no more. At length the tide of battle seemed going to the Romans. The Carthaginians slowly but gradually began to give ground. A few of those in rear of the centre began to retire. The wounded were pouring back in streams; riderless horses, many of them with their entrails hanging out, were, while shrieking with agony as only a horse can, wildly careering about the plain.

And now came the opportunity for which the young warrior Maharbal had been waiting, and he took it. For fully an hour he had, from his shelter in the oak wood, been watching the ebb and flow of the battle, and terrible had been his anxiety and great his impatience. But he had in himself the makings of a great general, and he wisely refrained from interfering too soon. He sent a messenger to summon Chœras to him, and imparted certain instructions before sending him back to his own wing.

“Now, Chœras,” he said, “notice this and no jesting! Keep thou all thy men carefully concealed until thou shalt see me issue alone from the wood with this scarf waving on my sword. Then if I raise it slowly and wave it once downwards, gallop with thy party and attack the enemy’s right flank. If I raise it again slowly and wave it downwards twice, do thou, avoiding the enemy’s flank, sweep completely round and attack the rear. Never mind what mine own movements may be, thou hast but to obey mine orders. Of one thing be careful, that is, if I wave twice to slay all those footmen who retreated through the enemy’s ranks before thou makest any attack upon the cavalry from the rear. For they are Romans—the cavalry are chiefly Gauls, and I will dispose of them myself. But do thou be careful to despatch the footmen first; dost thou understand?”

“Ay, ay, Maharbal, I understand full well; but may I not start now? The clash and conflict of the battle are getting too much for me; I cannot, I fear, control either my feelings or my men much longer; I long to be at them. I can only express my feelings in verse.

“A poet I, yet thirst for blood,

For Roman blood I call!

And I would storm as mountain flood,

E’en though as flood I fall.

“There, would that not do for Sosilus? He would be delighted to parse, dissect, and destroy that little verse of mine, if he were only here. But, by Melcareth, Maharbal! versifying apart, do let me get at them soon; I can hardly keep my seat upon my horse for impatience.”

“Well spoken, my gallant poet,” replied Maharbal, smiling; “thou shalt, I wager, soon have plenty of mountaineering work to do in climbing over the bodies of the slain, so be not impatient. But one word. In attacking, look thou well to thy guard—you poets are so incautious. After striking, ever raise thy wrist and cover thyself again before another blow. Now farewell, and the gods be with thee; return to thy troops.”

Very shortly after these orders had been given, Maharbal issued from the wood and waved his sword with the attached handkerchief twice. Like arrows Chœras and his men started from their cover, and sweeping over the plain, avoiding the flanks, fell upon the rear of the Romans. Dreadful then was the slaughter of the footmen who had retired behind the Roman cavalry. At the same instant Maharbal swept round the other flank, and, leaving the footmen alone, fell with his men upon the rear of the Roman cavalry. The whole aspect of the battle was changed in a moment. The whole Roman force, with the exception of a band that rallied around Scipio, broke and fled, and the greater part of the Carthaginian horse pursued them. Maharbal, however, charged the serried foes around the Roman leader, and with his terrible blows had soon cut a lane right through their ranks up to the Commander himself, slaying the standard-bearer and seizing the standard. Vainly did Scipio raise his already tired arm to ward off the fearful blow that Maharbal now dealt. He struck at the Consul with all his force, but his sword, glancing off the Consul’s helmet, clove his shoulder. It cut clean through his armour and half-severed his right arm. The shock threw Scipio from the saddle, and his attendants now fled to a man. Maharbal was about to dismount, and secure the person of the Consul as his prisoner, when suddenly Monomachus burst upon the scene, wounded and dismounted, brandishing a bared dagger which he stooped to strike into the prostrate Roman’s throat. But first he plunged his hand in the Roman’s blood.

“Hold! hold, Monomachus!” cried Maharbal. “Slay him not, he is the General and a noble foe, and he is moreover my prisoner. Thou shalt not slay him!”

“Curse thee!” cried the slaughterer furiously, “I tell thee I will slay him, ay, and thee too if thou interfere,” and he knelt over the body of Scipio to despatch him.

At that moment there came a shock. A young Roman officer with five or six followers charged in upon the scene. With one spear-thrust the leader transfixed the neck of the bloody Monomachus, and then he instantly turned upon Maharbal.

“Ha! we meet again,” he cried, and rushed upon him. It was young Scipio! But he was no match for Maharbal, who easily avoided the spear-thrust, and then with a scornful laugh charged him in turn. Striking him merely with his fist, he knocked him off his saddle.

“Ay, once again we meet and once again I spare thee, Roman!” he cried, “and again I spare thee simply for thy valour’s sake.”

Then seeing himself surrounded by Romans, he struck down a couple of them, and pressing his horse out of the throng, escaped, bearing the Roman eagle with him.

CHAPTER VIII.
EUGENIA.

What a glorious career of successes it was that was inaugurated with this cavalry victory near the Ticinus! Had not the blood-thirsty monster Monomachus been slain by young Scipio at the very end of the action, he might not only have been able to gratify his wish of plunging his arm into the blood—although it proved not indeed the life-blood—of the Roman General, but he might have bathed repeatedly during the next twelve months in rivers of blood. Success followed on success. Like rats that leave a sinking ship, the Gauls in the Roman army deserted in their thousands and joined Hannibal; the Boii and other Cis-Alpine tribes first sent him ambassadors and hostages, and then themselves came over with all their fighting men, and, after the battle of the Trebia, the whole of Cis-Alpine Gaul was in the hands of the invading Carthaginians.

Now the battle of the Trebia was in this wise. After the cavalry action just described, the wounded consul Publius Scipio fled with his army first across the Po, and then, after considerable losses at the crossings of all the rivers, to some high ground near the River Trebia, where the now-dreaded Numidian Cavalry were unable to get at him. Here he was joined in his camp by the other consul, Tiberius Sempronius, who brought his army from Ariminum, the combined Roman forces amounting to over forty thousand men. The two consuls were utterly unable to decide upon a concerted plan of action; the wounded General wishing for time to get well, and to accustom his newly-raised legions to campaigning for a while before risking a general action. Tiberius, however, was anxious to gain some military glory for himself, apart from his brother consul; he was, moreover, jealous of the possible successes of the succeeding consuls, the time for whose election was near at hand. He was therefore only too anxious to risk a combat, and was constantly urging Scipio to allow him to take the combined consular forces against Hannibal.

But now mention must be made of the youthful Eugenia and her amours with Mago.

Mago, the younger brother of Hannibal, was immediately, on the death of Hannibal Monomachus, appointed to the supreme command of all the Carthaginian cavalry. After the affair of the Ticinus, he was ordered on to the pursuit, and he ceased not to harass Scipio, even when he had encamped under the walls of the city of Placentia. Here, one day in a bold foray, he destroyed a portion of the camp outside the town, and in the tent of one of the generals of the Roman allies, which he looted, he captured an Italian maiden named Eugenia, a girl about twenty years of age, and of surpassing beauty. She was by birth an Etruscan, and by some is reported to have been the daughter, by others the niece, of the general in whose tent she had been found.

Terrified at first, she was soon fascinated by the charm of Mago, who was a young man of most handsome appearance, and who loaded her with gifts and gold, which were liberally supplied by Hannibal for a purpose. After a very few days, as Mago was well acquainted with the Latin tongue, he had so completely won her to him that she would have readily allowed herself to be burned with fire for his sake, or, at least, to have given her life for his. Not being a Roman, but an Etruscan, she had no particular love for Rome; but youthful and ardent, and anxious to prove to Mago her great love for him, she readily fell in with his wishes. Accordingly, after Scipio had encamped upon the heights on a spur of the Apennines, she one day, being aided by Mago, pretended to escape to the Roman camp, where she arrived with torn raiment, dishevelled hair, and an appearance of the greatest misery. Her curses and invectives against the Carthaginians, and the story which she related of her imaginary wrongs, utterly and at once disarmed all suspicion. The fair maid Eugenia was therefore received with open arms and made a most welcome guest in the Roman camp, where everyone pitied her for the terrible misfortunes she had endured. Thus, there was nothing that transpired there that she did not know, and when she had found out all that was going on, she one night took an opportunity of escaping, and rejoined her lover Mago. To him she revealed everything, and Hannibal was at once put in possession of all the information he required. Having thus gained knowledge of all the cabals that were going on in the Roman headquarters, Hannibal knew how to act, and determined to precipitate a conflict before the Roman infantry were really sufficiently seasoned.

This he easily managed.

To Mago, through whose pretty lover he had gained so much useful information, he assigned the most arduous post—that of hiding by night in ambush in a wet water-course, with a party of two thousand chosen horse and foot, to appear at a seasonable moment.

Then early in the morning, after his own men had breakfasted by the camp fires, a party of light-armed troops were sent out to draw out the Romans from their camp, which was easily accomplished, the Romans, under Sempronius himself, thronging out, all unfed as they were, and pursuing the apparently flying foe across the swollen River Trebia. What followed is but history. After a bloody and prolonged fight, Mago and his hidden troops suddenly appeared from the water-course in rear of the Romans, and a frightful slaughter ensued, the Numidians under Maharbal and Chœras charging, as usual, in small groups, and advancing and retiring, utterly disconcerting the enemy. The result of this terrible battle, which was fought in a fearful snow-storm, was that out of forty thousand troops engaged, only ten thousand survived and escaped to Placentia. But the savage elephants, despite the snow, pursued and slaughtered for hours and hours, until they could slay no more. And this was the last fight in which the elephants were of any avail, for the bitter cold weather which now set in soon killed them all but one, and killed also thousands of the allied Carthaginians. As, however, during the battle, the greatest losses among the Carthaginians had taken place among the Celts or Gauls, Hannibal still retained a large number of his original army of Libyans and Iberians with whom to continue the campaign.

After this battle in the early spring, there were some terrible times, during which, over and over again, it must be confessed, Maharbal longed, but longed in vain, that he had taken the opportunity offered him by the Chief of returning to New Carthage with the letter to his beloved Elissa.

But there was no going back now, and, as he had cast in his lot with his wonderful Chief, so was he compelled to go on. Therefore, in the early spring, he crossed the Apennines, and for four consecutive days and nights marched through the horrible swamps and morasses between Lucca and Fæsulæ, where the only dry places to be found at nights was upon the bodies of the dead baggage animals. Here daily and nightly he strove to minister to Hannibal, who, sorely afflicted with a terrible attack of ophthalmia, which cost him an eye, nevertheless concealed his own agony, and daily and hourly, riding upon the sole elephant that survived, encouraged by his presence and example the troops under his command.

Then came a short period of rest at Fæsulæ, during which the Carthaginian troops contrived to regain a little of their lost vigour; but, as many of the horses had lost their hoofs in the awful march through the swamps, it fell to Maharbal and Mago, during this period, to continually make sudden excursions where least expected, and seize upon all the horses they could find.

It was now that Eugenia, the mistress of Mago, became most useful. Carefully nurtured by Mago, and being accorded by Hannibal all the comforts possible during this terrible march, she had not only survived all its terrors, but was as strong and well, and, moreover, as beautiful at its termination as she had been at its commencement.

She had, for concealment and convenience, been disguised as a boy, and did not look while attired in male raiment more than about fourteen years of age. She was strong and hardy, and being herself an Etruscan, was well able to give every kind of information about that country of Etruria wherein they now were. She was, however, no longer entirely devoted to Mago, and this for a variety of reasons. Perhaps the strongest of all was that she was a woman, and consequently unable to continue ever in one mind. Therefore, although she had deliberately given herself to Mago, under no compulsion, but merely for love’s sake, she now had, so she discovered, some religious scruples about her conduct. She talked to Mago of the possible anger of the gods; at times, also, she became cold to him, and reproached him with the sacrifices she had made for his sake in leaving the Romans to wander about with him.

Mago for a time put up with these whims and vagaries, for he had truly learned to love Eugenia; but there was one reason, at present unexpressed, which daily made her more dissatisfied and discontented.

Mago at length resented this treatment, as he wearied of her ill-merited complaints. He now became, or at any rate pretended to be, neglectful and cold in turn, and appeared to be entirely devoted to a recently-captured slave girl.

Eugenia had, in reality, recently set her affections upon Maharbal, and, as the days advanced, she fell madly in love with him. Accordingly, during the rides through the districts of Etruria in search of horses, Eugenia, now that Mago neglected her, attached herself daily to the party led by Maharbal, and trying, indeed, did the young warrior find these rides. For, faithful himself to Elissa, and quite as faithful to his friend Mago, he was, nevertheless, violently moved by the passion inspired by the beautiful Eugenia; and at length, so overcome was he by her charms, her sweetness, and her very evident admiration and love for himself, that he felt he must fall, and yet he would not fall.

A crisis came. One day, when far away upon one of these raiding expeditions, they had encamped for the mid-day meal in a wood, and Eugenia, on some pretext, persuaded Maharbal to wander with her through the most shady parts of the grove. Then suddenly losing all reserve, she fell with tears upon his neck, and declared that she loved him. Maharbal was, for a moment, overcome by the passion with which he thrilled at the contact with her, and, for a fleeting second, pressed her violently to his heart. But then, with a virtue almost unknown in those times, he remembered his faith to his lover—his almost wife—Elissa, and his faith to his friend—almost brother—Mago, and a feeling of fury rose within him. He loosed the girl’s arms from his neck with an angry movement.

“May the gods forgive me!” he cried, “but I know not what to do. I desire thee intensely, thou beautiful Eugenia, and, indeed, I almost love thee. But thou art not yet mine, and shalt never be mine, for I will not be false as thou art thyself. And I should be doubly false should I yield. Therefore, for thine own honour and mine own, thou must die!”

Swiftly he drew his dagger, and, in spite of her one appealing cry, slew her there on the spot, striking his dagger into her warm young breast. Then covering his eyes with his hands, he hurried from the dreadful place, horrified at what he had done, and yet feeling that the omnipotent gods alone had guided the hand that struck the fatal blow. And this, then, was the tragic end of poor Eugenia, who knew not, when she had won a man’s love and given unto him all the most precious gift of woman, how to remain faithful.

Maharbal was not the man to conceal an occurrence of this sort. Upon his return to camp, he straightway repaired to Hannibal’s tent, and begged for Mago to be summoned. After relating exactly what had occurred, he bared his breast, and, presenting the hilt of his own sword to Mago, said:

“Strike, Mago! for I have taken a life that should be dear to thee. Strike! for I feel myself indeed worthy of death for having sent that fresh young soul to Hades. But the gods are my judges, and if thou wilt but strike, I shall soon appear before them to answer for my conduct. Therefore, I say strike, and strike home!”

Mago did not strike. He burst into tears, and threw himself into Maharbal’s arms.

“It is mine own fault,” he cried, “oh Maharbal, and deeply do I grieve for the poor girl Eugenia. But far more deeply, friend, do I grieve for thee, upon whom the gods have laid such a cruel burden, as to compel thee, for thine honour’s sake and mine, to slay a woman. For thou hadst no other alternative, save to become a base villain.”

And again he wept, and Hannibal, who had in a fatherly way himself loved the young maiden, being moved beyond words, silently joined his brother and Maharbal in their tears.

There was much sadness that night in the camp of the generals, and if virtue be, as the proverb saith, its own reward, then, for the unhappy Maharbal, that reward was nought but misery.

After this, Maharbal became gloomy and morose. He quite lost the youthful gaiety which had so often borne him up, and with which he had in evil days encouraged others. For this affair preyed upon his mind. In his dreams he would see the dead girl, by turns stretching out her arms to him in imploring love, and then in imploring despair as he was about to strike the fatal blow. He refused his food; indeed, he was quite unable to eat. It was soon evident to all who knew him that his mind was preying on his body, for daily he looked more wan and ill, but he could not be comforted despite the efforts of his friends to cheer him. It was in vain that the worthy and kind-hearted Sosilus related for his benefit various real or imaginary histories, all given with due chapter and verse, of some of the god-like heroes of old, who, in similar cases, had behaved exactly like unto Maharbal himself; these well-meant histories afforded him no comfort whatever. He listened in silence. In vain also did Chœras force himself to the most sprightly jests, or write the most comic and witty verses, and read them to him aloud.

From sheer politeness’ sake Maharbal would force a smile, and compliment his friend, but immediately afterwards would relapse into moody silence as before.

Hannibal and Mago soon became quite alarmed, fearing that his mind was becoming unhinged by his grief. But although they were as brothers to him, and showered on him their brotherly love, nought that they could do was of any avail. For Maharbal was haunted day and night by the spirit of Eugenia. Throughout all his career, although many women, in fact nearly all the women whom he met, as Melania once wrote to Hannibal, fell in love with him, this secret and powerful attraction which he had experienced for the lovely Eugenia was the only passion for any other, save Elissa, that ever came to torture Maharbal. But he kept his thoughts to himself and suffered in silence, although ever haunted by the phantom of the slaughtered girl.

Had it not been that the battle of Lake Thrasymene occurred just about this time to divert the current of his thoughts, there is not the slightest doubt but that Maharbal would shortly have died a raving maniac. But Melcareth was merciful, and, by means of the distraction of active warfare, withdrew the heavy hand which he had laid upon the young man to try him; so that after the battle of Lake Thrasymene Maharbal gradually, to the delight of his comrades, recovered his health and spirits once more.

CHAPTER IX.
THRASYMENE.

The two new Consuls that year were Cnœus Servilius and Flaminius, and they had between them some sixty thousand troops. By so unexpectedly crossing the Apennines, and marching through the awful marshes of the overflowed Arno, Hannibal had entirely evaded Cnœus Servilius, who was left at Ariminum on the Adriatic, but he now found Flaminius in Etruria, blocking the way to Rome with a large force at a place called Arretium. Accordingly, Hannibal, while still collecting horses and resting his troops, held one day a council of war to consider the situation.

There were present, Mago, General Hanno, Maharbal, Hasdrubal the pioneer, who had succeeded Monomachus as head of the engineering department, Silenus the scribe, with writing materials handy, and last, but by no means least upon this occasion, Sosilus, who had, by this time, entirely undertaken the duties of head of the intelligence department of the army, which were duties in which he excelled. He had recently organised an excellent system of spies on a large scale, and the scheme was working admirably. Nothing took place in the Roman camp, or, for that matter, in Rome itself, without his being informed; and of all occurrences of interest, Sosilus made voluminous notes under alphabetical headings, with a view both to present utility and to incorporation in his future history of the war. Chœras returned from a horse-raiding expedition just as the proceedings were commencing. He was not entitled by his rank in the army to be present at a council of war, but Hannibal, who was very partial to him on account of his ready humour, called him in as he saw him marching, with a band of captured horses, past the open door of the council tent. Hannibal was still suffering agonies from the attack of ophthalmia, which had already cost him one eye. Nevertheless, with his usual indomitable courage, as he sat at the head of the council table, with a silk bandage over the diseased eye, he looked as unconcerned and jovial as possible. No one could, for a moment, have imagined that he was actually suffering dreadful pain. Such was the man, that he was even able to jest at his own condition.

“Well, most worthy Sosilus, thou seest in me now a hitherto unknown species—a one-eyed General—therefore, thou, as head of the intelligence department, wilt have to be in future not only ‘the ears of the army,’ but the unlucky General’s missing eye as well. Ah, well, what the gods have decreed is just, and I doubt not but that with thine aid my one remaining eye will be good enough to show me the way to Rome.

“But now to business. What canst thou tell me about the Consul Flaminius now at Arretium? I wish to have details as to his personal character and his history, as well as the numbers of his troops at present; for it is often from knowing the previous career and characteristics of one’s foe that one knows best how to combat him.”

“Most rightly said, my lord Hannibal,” replied Sosilus, while fumbling over his very voluminous notes. “I see that thou art of the same mind as the cunning Ulysses, who, according to Homer, upon a very similar occasion at the siege of Troy—but here is Flaminius; that matter of Ulysses can rest till later on, when, if any here present hath an hour or so to spare, I will with pleasure relate it.”

Unseen as he thought, but in reality observed by the scribe, Chœras made a grimace at Hannibal expressive of delight at escaping the history of Ulysses, at which the General smiled sympathetically in return. But now, in a business-like manner, Sosilus read aloud, as though from a dictionary:

“Flaminius-Caius, now Consul for the second time, is of plebeian origin and much hated by the patricians on account of his ever supporting the plebeian interests. Hath now with him at Arretium, 30,000 troops of Romans and the allies combined, of whom 6,000 are cavalry. Was tribune ten years ago, and, against the advice and wishes of the Senate, passed a law, called the Flaminia lex, for the division of the lands of the conquered Senones, a Gallic tribe in Umbria, among the poorer Roman citizens. Is founder of the great Circus called the Circus Flaminius, and likewise builder of the great military road from Rome to Aquilæa and Ariminum, known as the via Flaminia or Flaminian way.

“Six years ago, when Consul for the first time, crossed the River Padus—the first Roman ever to do so—and made war upon the Insubrian Gauls, who still detest his memory. On that occasion the hostile Senate declared that the gods had shown prodigies and omens against his success, and ordered him by letter to return. But he left the letter unopened until he had first crossed the Po and defeated the Gauls. On account of that success he is more hated than ever by the patrician class, who have lately seen more prodigies upon the occasion of his recent re-election by the people to the Consulate. Their object is evidently to represent him to the people as an unlucky man, or one unblessed by the gods.

“Some of the portents that have been seen are as follows:

“An ox in the cattle market ran into a house, rushed upstairs, and threw itself out of a third storey window.

“A four months’ old baby in the vegetable market, loudly shouted ‘Triumph!’

“A cat gave birth to twenty-four kittens in the Forum.

“Showers of stones fell in various parts of the city.

“The statues of the gods perspired freely.

“A mouse squeaked during the election, which the Senate therefore sought to cancel.”

This last of the list of portents against the unlucky Flaminius was too much for the gravity of Chœras, who burst out laughing loudly.

“Lucky for that mouse,” he exclaimed, “that he did not squeak in the Forum near the mother of the twenty-four catlings; he would soon then have understood the meaning of portents better than apparently doth this thick-headed Flaminius.”

There was general merriment at this sally, when Hannibal remarked:

“Yea, thou hast said the right word, Chœras. Thick-headed he evidently is, that is plainly his character if he can thus resist the Senate and the patricians with their portents, and calmly go on his own way despite all their evil omens. Many thanks unto thee, Sosilus, for thine excellent information. From it, I now judge this Flaminius to be a headstrong man, and one somewhat over self-reliant. Thus I think it highly probable that we shall be able to draw him into a pitched battle without his waiting for the other consular army to come and join him. At any rate we will try. This is my plan.

“Methinks, if we now start to the southward, ravaging and burning as we go, and pass him by, he will soon be drawn after us, and in rage at seeing the blazing and devastated country, will rush headlong to his doom. For we will select such ground as may be favourable to ourselves for fighting upon, and then, methinks, most worthy Chœras,” he turned to the wag, “that the thick-headed general, when pitched against the one-eyed general, will soon find out to his cost that the mouse did not squeak for nothing.”

“Ay, it will probably rain bullocks and babies about that period!” retorted Chœras, “a very good omen for Carthage whenever that happens!”

At this remark even the unhappy Maharbal grimly smiled. Then the meeting broke up, Chœras repeating a verse aloud to Sosilus as they rose to go.

“With bullocks raining over head,

While babies strew the soil;

No matter then how thick his head,

’Twill squash like olive oil.

“There! learned man! I make thee a present of that verse for thy history of the war, which contains, I fear me, far too much of bald prose. A verse or two of such singular merit will far increase the value of thy work. Therefore take it gratis; ’tis a present, I say.”

“With many thanks, I gladly accept the gift,” replied the sage with a merry twinkle in his eye. “And now I in return will make thee also a present, oh Chœras, and one which will greatly increase the value of thy brains, no less a present, indeed, than the relation of that story about Ulysses that I began just now. It will not take me much more than an hour and a half to give it thee from end to end, with all the references.”

“Oh, but I have business with the horses,” exclaimed Chœras, with a look of horror, and gathering up his sword and buckler, he made for the door of the tent. But the sage was not to be defrauded of his revenge this time. He seized the escaping poet by his armour cuirass at the back of the neck, and held him firmly.

“I too will come and see the horses, and can tell thee the history as we go; but of one thing be assured. I leave thee not until thou hast heard it all—ay, until the very last word. Thinkest thou that I am so mean as to accept a valuable present from thee for nothing? Nay, indeed, on the contrary. For as Achilles, when disguised as a woman at the Court of Lycomedes, remarked one day to the fair Deidamia—”

What Achilles said to Deidamia none of the laughing onlookers present ever knew, for at this moment the struggling Chœras broke out of the tent, the pedant, who was a small man, still clinging to the back of his neck with all the tenacity of a weasel clinging to a rabbit. He was determined to be fairly revenged upon the poet at last, and he had got his opportunity, and did not intend to relinquish his victim!

Next day the Carthaginian army commenced to march southward through Etruria, and, just as in Hannibal’s dream, the monster of the devastation of Italy followed in their wake. Every person they met was slaughtered, every building put to the flames.

Making a detour, Flaminius and his army were avoided, but the Roman Consul was soon aware of his adversary’s passage from the thick clouds of smoke with which the whole countryside was filled. Furious at this, he, as Hannibal had anticipated, without waiting for any aid to come to him from Ariminum, hurried blindly in pursuit. And Hannibal, laughing in his sleeve, quietly lay in wait for him in the mountain passes by the northern shores of Lake Thrasymene.

Never in the course of history has there been such an example of a complete surprise of the whole of a large army as at this battle. For over-night, aided by the configuration of the ground, which was admirably adapted to his purpose, the Carthaginian general arranged his various forces in ambush in several places, by the side of the lake and the pass leading to the valley through which the Roman force had to march in their fancied pursuit. Behind the hill on one side, near the entrance to the pass, were hidden all the Balearic slingers and the light-armed troops. On the other side, facing them, were the Numidian cavalry and the Gallic infantry; while upon a steep hill, which almost entirely closed the end of the valley, only leaving, indeed, a very narrow and precipitous roadway near the lake, stood Hannibal himself, with the whole of the Spanish and Libyan heavy infantry.

At early dawn, when a thick mist enveloped everything down to the water’s edge, Flaminius and his army, like flies into a trap, plunged recklessly into the pass and the valley, which were so soon to be whitened with their bones. The Carthaginians on the heights could plainly hear through the mist the tramp of the 30,000 enemies marching below them.

In the meantime, concealed by the mist, they gradually, in their impatience, edged further and further towards the slopes, down which they but awaited the command to charge. They could plainly—the white heavy mist having now settled upon the lower ground—see their own comrades similarly preparing on every surrounding hill-top.

When Hannibal, who was himself waiting in a fever of expectation, judged by the ear that the head of the Roman columns had reached the foot of the hill whereon he stood, he gave in a loud tone the order to charge. According to preconceived arrangement, the cry was instantly taken up and repeated by every general, captain, prefect, tribune, or other officer of any and every kind stationed around the amphitheatre of hills. In a second, the whole army was in motion, and then with a roar like thunder, from the combined frantic shouting, the clattering of the rocks and the clanging of the armour, thousands of men poured down on every side at once to charge the unseen and unsuspecting foe below. Never, indeed, in the history of the world has there been planned and executed such a terrible surprise! The Romans had, many of them, not even time to draw their swords, but were slain where they stood. In three hours’ time the whole of the Roman army, with the exception of six thousand men of the van, who, in the mist, managed to force their way through to a hillock, where they stood bewildered, were cut down, or driven into the lake. Here, while standing up to their necks in the water, they were charged by the Carthaginian cavalry, who despatched them with their spears, the Consul Flaminius himself being one of the killed.

When at length the mist cleared, and the six thousand Romans who had taken refuge on the hill saw the awful scene of carnage below, they retreated to a neighbouring Etruscan village. But Hannibal, thinking that in his present unhappy condition of mind the more fighting that Maharbal could get the better it would be for him, sent him the next day with all the light-armed troops and the Iberians to besiege the village, which he did so successfully that the whole of the six thousand surrendered to him on his promising to them their lives. Altogether, the appalling number of fifteen thousand Romans were actually slain in this battle, and, including the six thousand who surrendered to Maharbal, fifteen thousand were taken prisoners, more than half of whom were wounded. Hannibal, on his side, lost fifteen hundred men, but they were chiefly Gauls, whom he could best afford to lose.

Nor was this the end of the Roman disasters, for no sooner had the news of this terrible defeat reached Rome than it was followed by the tidings of a battle gained by Maharbal alone. For Cnœus Servilius, having heard that Hannibal had entered Etruria and was near Flaminius, started at once with the intention of joining him. But his excellent intentions had been frustrated completely by the diplomatic move made by Hannibal in setting fire to all the houses and devastating the whole country of Etruria before the very eyes of Flaminius. The result had been, to quote the flippant Chœras, that it had rained, if not exactly bullocks and babies, at all events blows and butchery at Thrasymene. Servilius, however, like a good general, anxious to help his fellow consul, had sent on a body of four thousand cavalry in advance, thinking that even if he could not himself arrive in time with the infantry, these horsemen would. They were all gallant troops, well mounted, and under the command of a certain Caius Centenius. Had these troops arrived in time for the battle of Lake Thrasymene they would probably have been slaughtered there and then. But they were three or four days too late. The delay, however, made but little difference in the result. For old Sosilus got timely warning from his spies of their approach, and informed Hannibal upon the very day that Maharbal took the six thousand prisoners. Again, with the object of keeping Maharbal at constant hard campaigning work, so as not to give him time for thinking, Hannibal deputed to him a separate and large command, which should by rights of seniority more fitly have been entrusted to Mago or to General Hanno. He sent him off with all the light-armed troops and a considerable body of Iberian cavalry to seek for and attack Centenius when found. Maharbal came up with the Romans in a day or two, and he and his men, both horse and foot, being full of confidence and valour after Thrasymene, charged at sight.

They charged with such impetuosity, the light-armed footmen by Maharbal’s directions clinging to the stirrups of the horsemen, that at the first shock half of the Romans were unhorsed. The footmen had let go the stirrups just before the shock of the two bodies of cavalry meeting, but now they bounded upon the dismounted Romans and slew them to a man, while the horsemen pursued the remainder to a hill, not far distant, where they defended themselves right valiantly for the night. But the following morning, charging gallantly up the hill, the young Numidian leader defeated them utterly. The fury of his charge was so great that the enemy, intimidated, broke without waiting for him to come to close quarters, and would have fled, but that they found confronting them a large party of Balearic slingers and archers, and some of the cavalry which Maharbal had sent round behind the hill, to their rear. Finding themselves thus taken between two fires, they threw down their arms, and although before Maharbal was able to stay the carnage a good many of the Romans were killed by the slingers and archers, most of them fell alive into his hands. Thus, with a large number of prisoners, and with an immense booty of fine horses and beautiful armour, Maharbal marched back to the headquarters near the Thrasymene, covered with glory and honour. And after this week of perpetual fighting and carnage he ceased to be haunted by the spirit of Eugenia, whose image now soon faded from his mind, although he never forgot her completely so long as he lived.

Great were the rejoicings in the Carthaginian ranks after these tremendous successes, but for all that, Hannibal did not feel himself strong enough to attack Rome for the present.

Dividing the prisoners who were actual Romans among his troops, and releasing all the prisoners of the allies, telling them that he made war for Italy herself against the Romans only, he started once more. Gathering together all the spoils and the captured horses, of which he had an immense number, and taking his wounded with him, he now indulged himself in what may be described as a kind of military promenade. Entirely unopposed, but plundering and killing all the male inhabitants whom he met, just to indulge in his hatred for the Romans, he leisurely marched across Central Italy to the province of Umbria, and passing through Umbria, travelled on slowly to the southward through Picenum, where he arrived with all his army upon the shores of the Adriatic. Here he established a fortified camp in the midst of a most fertile country.

Right glad, indeed, were he and his army to behold the sea once more; for they had not seen salt water now for many months. Right glad also were the troops to rest, for they had become wearied of carrying along all the wealth that they had amassed. Moreover, from the hardships of the campaign, many of the men were suffering from scurvy, and the horses were covered with scab. Fortunately, the Carthaginians had captured among other things great quantities of old wine, and by continuous bathing of their wounds with this, both horses and men were soon restored to health and strength.

Meanwhile, the state of despair to which the proud Romans had been reduced can be better imagined than described. The whole of the inhabitants of the city of Rome, who had hitherto been ever accustomed to hear of nought but the victories of their troops, were now reduced to a condition of abject terror, and it is probable that had Rome but been attacked it would have fallen.

From this camp in this fertile country, Hannibal was able to send messengers by sea to Carthage, and on from Carthage to his daughter in New Carthage, with tidings of his wonderful career of success.

Again he now offered to Maharbal the opportunity not only of returning to New Carthage to join his beloved Elissa, but of also proceeding first of all, as his envoy, to carry the good news and a great portion of the Roman spoils to Carthage itself, thus giving him an opportunity of revisiting his own native land in Libya. But as he had refused before, so now did Maharbal sturdily refuse again to leave his general’s side.

“Nay, nay, Hannibal,” he replied. “I am not one of those who change their minds. I have sworn to remain with thee, and remain with thee I will. I shall doubtless, if I be spared, have plenty of time to pass with Elissa after the war is over. And,” he continued, laughing, “as for seeing my native country, my native country is the back of a war-horse.”

“Then wouldst thou probably see plenty of thy native country in Spain,” replied Hannibal; “for, from all accounts, my brother Hasdrubal is likely to be hard pushed to it there shortly. For not only is Cnœus Scipio there, but Publius Scipio, he whom thou didst wound at the Ticinus, hath proceeded thither also, and doubtless many of those discontented Iberians, especially the tribes north of the Ebro, will desert to their standard. Fighting there will be in Iberia, and plenty of it, as well as here, and thy strong right arm may, for all I know, be needed some day even to defend the honour of her whom thou lovest so much in New Carthage. So think of it, lad, before definitely refusing. ’Twill be thy last chance.”

Maharbal’s bronzed face turned a shade paler, and he started at the idea of harm happening to Elissa. For a second, and a second only, he hesitated, then made up his mind once for all.

“Tush!” he said resolutely, “Elissa will be safe enough in New Carthage. Not all the Scipios in the world could take that city. Hannibal, my place is, as I have said, here by thy side. I remain with thee.”

“Thank ye, lad!” said Hannibal warmly; and, moved by so much devotion, he stretched forth his hand, and warmly clasped that of his faithful adherent.

“And, now,” he said, “as that is settled, come with me across the camp, and let us seek Mago, for I must send him in thy stead to Carthage, and on, after a while, into Spain. Perhaps, after all, it would be as well if one of the sons of Hamilcar Barca should be seen just now for a while in Carthage, to tell of his brother’s successes, and to ask for the reinforcements of men and money that we now sorely need. Especially, they should send us men, for the waste of life hath been terrible indeed since we marched out of Saguntum. Yet both thou and I will miss Mago, lad; and who knows if we shall ever either of us see him again.”

“Ay, Hannibal, I shall indeed miss Mago, for I love him truly like a brother. But yonder he is, standing by the guard tent; I will step across and call him to thee.”

“Nay, let us go together, lad, for I am anxious to take a glance round the camp, and we can talk to him as we go.”

So together they went, and joined Mago.

CHAPTER X.
FRIENDS MUST PART.

It was upon a beautiful summer’s morning that Mago embarked for Carthage. The country all around the Carthaginian camp was, after a shower on the previous night, looking its very best. The green leaves of the vines, all bedewed with the raindrops, glistening in their little hollows, dispensed a sweet odour in the clear, refreshing air. The verdant cornfields, waving before the gentle sea-breeze, softly rustled with a soothing sound, displaying, as they moved, the large red poppies previously hidden beneath their bending stems. In the dim distance, the peaks of the Apennines stood up purple and sharp to the azure sky, while here and there a fleecy white cloud softly rested upon some mountain crest, nestling around the hill-top, and embracing it lovingly, as a pure maiden softly enfolding her lover in the embrace of her snowy arms. Upon the groves of chestnut trees the morning sun, striking upon one side and lighting them up vividly, made all the more remarkable the contrast with the gloomy shades which hovered in long, dark streaks along the branches where the sunbeams had not yet fallen. Here and there from a belt of sweet-scented pine trees could be heard the soft, trilling notes of Philomel, the sad-voiced nightingale; while closer at hand, flowing past the fallen tree trunk, upon which two warriors were seated, there rippled merrily by a little streamlet, sparkling like silver in the morning rays.

At some distance in the foreground, as if to show that all in this world is not peace, there stood line upon line of snow-white tents, denoting the presence of an enormous camp, while behind the camp the blue and scarcely ruffled waters of the Adriatic faded away in the far distance into the blue of the sky, with which it seemed to merge its waters. It was a morning made for love, for all that should be sweet and delightful, a morning fit for heaven itself. But it was a morn that was witness of a great sorrow—the parting of two lifelong friends—who felt, they knew not why, that they were communing with each other for the last time on earth.

Mago and Maharbal, each, although quite young, the hero of a hundred bloody fights, sat upon the fallen tree, hand clasped in hand as though they were but two young children. For long they sat in silence, drinking in all the beauties of nature around, yet their hearts too full to speak. So great was the sorrow they felt, that a kind of awkwardness had fallen upon them both. They did not know what to say to each other now that the time had come for parting. These two, who, with bared sword and gleaming eye, so often had charged together side by side into the very jaws of death, to issue on the other side of some hostile squadron, with the warm blood dripping from their deadly blades, were now speechless. At length Mago spoke, while gripping his friend’s hand closer.

“I shall never forget it, Maharbal. I shall remember it all my life.”

“What?” said Maharbal, suddenly starting from his reverie, “remember what, Mago?”

“How thou didst save me from that most blood-thirsty Gaul, at whose mercy I was in that awful night of our second engagement on the Alps. I can see thee now, in my mind’s eye, casting him and his horse together over the precipice. By Moloch! but thou didst display a terrible strength with this right hand of thine, snapping his hand at the wrist like a carrot even as he was striking at me.”

“Tush, man! hold thy peace. I did not do one half for thee what thou thyself didst for me before Saguntum—ay, and once again at the Trebia, when three Romans had, owing to the slippery ground, unhorsed me, and would have slain me but for thy killing two of them and putting the third to flight. But him, thou wilt doubtless remember, I pursued and slew myself. He was a terrible black-looking scoundrel, but a very coward at heart, or he would not have fled when thou wast but one to three, standing over my prostrate body. I killed him easily.”

“Yea, I mind well the circumstance. But what shall we both do now when we can do no more slaying together? I loved thee always as thine elder brother, Maharbal, and feel inclined—laugh not at me, I pray—to weep when I think that no longer thou and I shall be with the thundering squadron in the thick of the same combat, oft times side by side. How oft have I watched thy gigantic form from afar, cutting and slaying, when thou knewest not that I was even observing thee.”

“And I too, Mago! How often have not I watched thy crimson and white plume floating from thy silver helmet. To my dying day I never shall forget the anxiety I felt on thy behalf that day of the fight on the Ticinus, when, myself left behind in the oak trees, I saw thee a dozen times in the clash of battle, surrounded by the enemy, but thank the gods, invariably issuing the victor. Ay, we have had grand times together! but now what shall I do without thee?”

“Hast thou not got Chœras?” asked Mago tentatively.

“Ay, I have Chœras,” answered Maharbal drily, “but is Chœras the Mago whom I have loved from boyhood?”

There was a silence again after this, for the last remark was one that admitted of no reply. Then Mago spoke again.

“Thou wilt succeed to the command of all the cavalry when I am gone, Maharbal; be careful of the Gallic horsemen; their chief, Vridomarchus, is not to be relied on—watch thou him well.”

“Ay, I will watch him, and slay him too, for thy sake, if he hath offended thee in aught.”

“Nay, slay him not, at least not yet, but rule him with a hand of iron; make him fear thee, and all will go well. Treat him ever like a dog, for kindness he doth not understand, and he is verily like the dog that biteth the hand that feeds him.”

“I thank thee, Mago, but I think I will slay him; he will be far less trouble that way.”

Another pause ensued, and then, looking his comrade straight in the face, the young General Mago asked the question that Maharbal had been expecting.

“And what about my niece Elissa? shall I tell her or no that Hannibal offered unto thee the chance of going to Carthage and then to Spain instead of me, or rather before me?”

“Ay, tell her, Mago—she may as well know me as I am. I love her deeply, ’tis true, but I love my duty to my country and to Hannibal more than all else.”

“And what about Eugenia? shall I mention that circumstance? I think, for mine own sake, ’twere wiser not, but ’twould vastly raise thee in Elissa’s esteem to know how thou hadst scorned another for her love’s sake.”

Maharbal sprung to his feet and covered his eyes with his hands as the remembrance of the dreadful tragedy with Eugenia flashed vividly across his mind. He turned and faced Mago.

“I would rather, oh my friend, my more than brother, that thou shouldst say nought of that matter. It is not that I fear that she should know that I have slain a woman, but I would not have her think that I seek or have sought to glorify myself by assuming for her sake a virtue that I have not felt. For, by the holy gods, Mago, it was, I truly believe, chiefly for thine own sake that I acted as I did. But thine honour and mine honour were at stake, Eugenia’s honour likewise. In truth I know not rightly whether I thought of Elissa or no, the whole affair hath been so horrible unto me. Therefore, Mago, while in no wise binding thee, I think that I would rather that that matter remained secret.”

“Ay, secret it shall be, but now tell me this; hast thou not a letter for Elissa? if so, let me have it now. I shall see her within the year.”

“Yea, I have a letter ready, and here it is. But stay a moment, I see a wild rose climbing yonder, I would enclose a blossom or two and a few leaves of the sweet briar within the folds. Tell her that I have pressed them to my lips, and send them to her with all my love. I have no other message to send; but I may never see her again, therefore tell her simply this, that I am faithful still.”

Maharbal plucked the wild roses and enclosed them within his scroll, which he gave to Mago. Then the two warriors and friends, who had seen so many bloody fields together, clasped each other in their brawny arms, all armour-clad as they were, even as they had been two weak, foolish girls. After this they descended the hill almost in silence to the camp.

Here there was great pomp and parade, and the great General Mago was escorted to his ship with much ceremony by a large guard of honour composed of men who had served under him in many a sanguinary conflict.

And now, with the departure of Mago, it is time that we turned our attention for awhile to what had been going on elsewhere.

CHAPTER XI.
ELISSA AS A WARRIOR.

After the departure of the army with her father and her lover from Spain, a great blank had fallen upon the life of the young girl Elissa. For the dull days had succeeded to the dull days, and still no news came to relieve the anxious heart of the ardent girl.

Her uncle Hasdrubal was away with the army that Hannibal had left in Northern Iberia. Melania, at whose memory her pretty teeth met tightly, was dead. Cleandra had left her. There was absolutely no one to whom she could mention in confidential talk even the name of Maharbal, save the foolish Princess Cœcilia. To mention him to her was, so Elissa soon found, to expose herself to many a jarring note, for so thoughtless was the buxom lady, so absolutely tactless, that she contrived to say ever the wrong thing when referring to the absent lover. It was not done intentionally, or from ill-nature, but that only made matters all the worse when she blurted out some such remark as this:

“Oh! doubtless he hath half-a-dozen other sweethearts by this time, those soldiers are all alike, my niece, never faithful when once their backs are turned, and very often not even when at home. Oh! thou needst not look at me like that, Elissa, ’tis absolutely true, I assure thee, and about all of them. Think on my late husband Hasdrubal, how disgracefully he behaved. But that is what they are; I tell thee the truth; ay, verily all soldiers are like that. ’Tis no use thy pining for Maharbal, nor waiting for him either. Therefore, if he come not back very shortly, thou shouldst take another lover. As for Hannibal, thy father, him thou canst never hope to see again, after his starting off on such a madcap errand as this invasion of Italia by land.”

This kind of speech was not very consoling. But it was what Elissa had to expect, and to put up with if she ever mentioned her lover’s name. Therefore she at length learned to hold her peace where he was concerned.

“Let us talk about some other matter,” she said testily, one day after some such conversation. “As for me, Princess Cœcilia, thanks be to the gods! I do not share thy opinion of men, nor deem that all can be so bad. Maybe ’tis fortunate for me that I have not had thine experience. Therefore, I will continue to put my faith in Maharbal. But I have now other and weightier matters to discuss with thee. I have this very day received a lengthy despatch from mine uncle Hasdrubal, and ’tis most serious. It seemeth that the war hath not by any means gone well with him for some time past.

“Firstly, by means of the base treason of one Abilyx, an Iberian whom he trusted, General Bostar, who commandeth at Saguntum, hath, being deceived by Abilyx, most foolishly delivered over unto the two Roman generals all the hostages of the Northern Iberian tribes. The Romans in turn have given up these hostages to the Iberians, and thereby secured important alliances. Secondly, General Hanno, the son of Gisco, hath been severely defeated, and both he and the king Andobales have fallen into the hands of the Romans. Thirdly, Hasdrubal’s own fleet hath been defeated close by the land, and in sight of mine uncle’s army drawn up on the beach. The cowardly sailors fled to the shore, and, beaching their vessels, which they abandoned, sought the protection of Hasdrubal’s force. The only bright spot in the cloudy sky is that Hasdrubal, with a flying column of eight thousand infantry and one thousand horse, hath himself surprised a great number of the sailors of the Roman fleet on shore, scattered about the country, and killed them. With reference to this last affair, Hasdrubal writeth that Cnœus Scipio hath since then joined his fleet, and punished the authors of the disaster according to the Roman custom! I wonder what that may be? ’tis no doubt something terrible.”

“Ay, doubtless something horrid, probably crucifying them head downward, or else impaling them, or maybe breaking them on the wheel,” replied the princess. “I trust,” she added consolingly, “that neither Hannibal nor Maharbal have yet been similarly served. But ’tis more than likely.”

“With all this,” continued Elissa, ignoring the pleasant suggestion conveyed in the latter part of Cœcilia’s remark, “thou wilt easily see that it behoveth us ourselves to be more careful than ever in our defences here of New Carthage. For strong though we be, what is there to guarantee us, like Bostar, against treachery from within, when, should the Romans make a sudden descent in our neighbourhood, we may all fall into their hands? May the sacred gods protect us from such a fate! But as one never knows who may prove a traitor, nor what may chance in war, I intend myself henceforward in my capacity of Regent and Governor to devote far more time personally than heretofore to the troops of the garrison, such as to seeing to their efficiency and readiness. For it shall never be said of a daughter of Hannibal that, from sheer idleness, she neglected her trust to her country. As for treachery, should I ever suspect any human soul within these walls, whether man or woman, Iberian or Carthaginian, of either deliberately or by foolishness committing such an action as should endanger the safety of the city, I should speedily make use of mine authority to punish such an one according to the Carthaginian custom in such cases, which, as witness the sacrifices to Moloch, can upon occasion be made quite as terrible as any Roman custom. Therefore let such a one be careful.”

During the latter part of her speech, Elissa looked very pointedly at the little princess, in whom, owing to her light character, she had no great faith, and who trembled before her in consequence of the pointed remark.

“By all the gods!” replied the usually merry lady, with blanching cheek, “wherefore dost thee look at me like that, Elissa? Surely thou wouldst never suspect me of turning traitor? Only think of it, what on earth should I do myself,” she continued, “were I to be captured and fall into the hands of the Roman officers? I am sure I should die of fright,” and she gave a little giggle.

Elissa had now shot her bolt intended to convey a warning, and that it had struck home she knew. She now therefore said, banteringly:

“Thou die of fright! by no means, my dear aunt; methinks that on the contrary thou wouldst be quite happy under such circumstances. I have frequently heard that some of those Romans are very handsome men, and how could they fail to be at once struck by thine attractions and charms?”

“Ah, yes, that is true, certainly,” replied the vain little lady, beaming at the compliment. “But for all that I fancy I am better off here. I believe that the Romans object to their ladies wearing veils even out in the sun. Think, my niece, how terribly trying to the complexion. Never could I survive such a trial as that; ’twould be worse even than being crucified according to Roman custom upside down, a very unbecoming posture that.” And she gave a little shudder.

“And one,” replied Elissa, smiling in spite of herself, “that I trust neither thou nor I, mine aunt, may ever be seen in, and it behoveth us therefore to be more than extra careful. Thus, by letting all in the city know that we are constantly on the alert, we shall have less to fear from treason. Moreover, the enemy themselves, even if they have spies among us, learning that we are ever prepared, will be less likely to dare to attack us, seeing how strong is our position.”

One of Elissa’s amusements latterly had been in learning warlike exercises, such as the use of spear and broadsword, and throwing the javeline, and from this time forth she, who had hitherto not had much to occupy herself, became in very sooth the ruling military spirit in New Carthage. For she was now not only the Civil Governor but the active general as well, and not a guard was mounted, nor a man moved without her orders. Clad in a helmet and a light cuirass, both of steel inlaid with gold scroll work, and with a jewel-hilted sword by her side, she now frequently mounted a war-horse, for she was a splendid rider, and reviewed the troops in person. Not content with merely looking carefully and watchfully after the troops of the garrison, she also constantly made fresh levies among the Iberians, whom she caused to be trained and then forwarded to her uncle Hasdrubal at the seat of war. In constantly employing herself in this way the days hung less wearily on her hands. Thus first the months and then the years rolled by, and from the cares of government and the active part that she took in the management of the troops, the pain of the separation became gradually less, and the self-reliant young woman began in time to cease to think about her lover so exclusively.

When Elissa took to live with her a charming young maiden to whom she was much attached, Sophonisba, the daughter of a certain General Hasdrubal, the son of the Gisco slaughtered so basely by the mercenaries in the truceless war, the void in the young girl’s life became partly filled. Sophonisba was a remarkably handsome girl of some fifteen summers. Educated in Carthage, she was quick-witted and sharp beyond her years, and made a most excellent companion. With her society, life was not for Elissa quite so dreary as heretofore.

At last, after two and a half years had elapsed, a large fleet of Carthaginian ships, full of reinforcements for Hasdrubal, were one day sighted off the harbour mouth. When they had entered the roadstead and anchored, Elissa’s young and favourite uncle Mago came ashore, bearing to her the letters of her father and her lover, the latter containing the wild roses now long since plucked on the Adriatic shore.

At sight of the dear one’s handwriting and the withered roses, the whole of love’s young dream came back with a gush of feeling. Nor did Mago forget to praise his friend in every way, and speak of his bravery and constancy to his niece, whose heart thrilled with pride to hear her lover thus praised. When, however, Mago informed Elissa that, had he so willed it, Maharbal might have returned to New Carthage in his stead, the impression which he made upon the young girl’s mind was quite contrary to what the warrior had hoped. For he, looking from a soldier’s point of view, had imagined that she would be pleased at finding that her lover was of such a noble character, able to prefer duty to self; whereas, on the contrary, she was only angered, for with a woman’s feelings, she could not understand how anybody, or anything in the world, be it honour, duty, or anything else, could have been preferred by her lover to herself upon such an opportunity. Mago, perceiving this evil impression, was sorry that he had mentioned the circumstance at all.

“Surely!” Elissa exclaimed passionately, “he hath had enough of fighting; surely he hath already done enough for Hannibal, for honour, and for his country to have been able to spare a little time for me who have, all lonely, been eating out my heart for him so long. And he is mine! Before the gods I have a right to him; yet am I neglected thus! Surely I was worth more than this! But since he would not come to me himself, I will have none of his letters, nay, nor of his miserable roses either!”

Stamping on the floor, with anger in her eyes, she tore twice in twain the scroll that Mago had brought her from Maharbal, and dashed it to the ground. Then casting the withered roses to the floor beside the fluttering pieces of papyrus, Elissa spurned them with her foot. How glorious the outraged girl looked in her righteous anger! But then, a revulsion of feeling setting in, she suddenly cast herself upon her sympathetic uncle’s breast in a flood of tears, while he vainly sought to console her. After this, she broke from him again, picked up the scattered fragments, tenderly picked up also the crushed and shrivelled rose leaves, and clutching them to her beating bosom, fled from the apartment. Poor Elissa! accustomed as she was to have her own way in everything, her pride had indeed been sadly hurt; but love was after all still the lord of all.

It must be owned that hers was a terrible and trying position. Maid but no maid, wife but no wife, ruling over New Carthage and all the surrounding territory in Southern Spain with princely powers, with all the might of Carthage to support her in her authority, yet she was powerless to have her will. Working, too, as she ever was, for the good of her country, she was yet condemned by an adverse fate to gain no good herself, the one thing that she desired in this world to make life worth living being denied to her.

First it had been her father who had, for his own reasons, torn her lover from her arms just as she had learned to know what love was; and now it was that noble young soldier, the flower of the army, Maharbal himself, who had preferred, or so it seemed, the undying fame of military glory, which he was earning in Italy, to her loving arms. It has been said by one, herself a loving woman, in an analysis of the sexes, that absence makes man but not woman indifferent, the beloved object gradually fading from the former’s mind. “For,” she writes, “men are not made like women, and in time they do forget, although they do not think at the first that they will, ever. But I have closely studied them, and have discovered that, in their relations to each other, women can live on a past, but men always need an immediate future to look forward to, or else everything is lost in a mist of oblivion. To women ‘have beens’ are enough for ever, whilst men require to have their five senses constantly occupied on the people they love, or else soon grow cooler, and in time cold. With a man, his love is deep and deeply intense for a little while; with a woman, it is not so deep or intense at the time, but spreads over her whole life.”

With reference to the above analysis, which certainly is true in parts as regards the world in general, and yet which seems far too sweeping when applied to individual cases, Elissa was one of those whom absence did not render indifferent; she was also one of those women whose love had spread over her life. But it could by no means be said of her that she found that the “have beens” were enough for ever, nor that her love had not been so deep and intense as Maharbal’s at the time. On the contrary, it was not only equally deep and intense, but far more violent and incapable of being kept under control. Elissa had not therefore been satisfied with merely living on the past, but had been ardently looking forward to a future when her five senses might be again gratified by the presence of her lover. Her disappointment and depression were all the greater, and her state of “accablement” became more utter, as the loving words and expressions conveyed to her in her lover’s letter only made her desire his personal presence the more intensely.

As with the pieced-together letter in her hand, and the faded roses by her side, she lay silently weeping upon her luxurious couch, she felt as if she had been struck with blows, so limp, so crushed was she. But after a while, proud woman that she was, she called all her pride, all her courage, to her aid, and rising from her couch rejoined her uncle.

Her beautiful face was very pale, and there were deep violet rings under her eyes, when, laying her bejewelled fingers upon Mago’s arm, she addressed him as follows:

“Mine uncle Mago, it is not good for a girl to be so much alone as I have been for years past. Neither father nor mother have I ever had with me, nor even thou, mine uncle Mago, nor yet have I mine uncle Hasdrubal. Until I took my friend Sophonisba to live with me, what society have I had, save that of the empty-headed Princess Cœcilia, a woman utterly devoid of intellect, whose only ideas are vapid flirtations with anything or anybody—which foolish promiscuity maketh her somewhat a danger in the city, by the way—and how best to take care of her complexion:

“No wonder, then, oh mine uncle! that—neglected thus, and thrown so utterly upon mine own resources—I have dwelt far too much in my mind upon my lover Maharbal; for lover only he is to me henceforth; I will continue no longer the farce of calling him my husband. Had he been my husband, or desired to be my husband, he would have come to me now. Therefore is he but my lover and nought else, and, my lover having failed me, I will stay here to brood in New Carthage no longer, but will accompany thee for a while to the war against the Romans, with this thine army that thou hast brought. I shall presently take thee all over the defences of the town, and thou wilt see that I have not hitherto betrayed my trust, for all is in order. And thou, mine uncle, shalt this day present unto me one of the superior officers of thy force, a capable man, to accompany us round the walls, and be also present at a review of my troops, which I intend to hold in thine honour. To such a one will I delegate mine authority here during mine absence, and thou shalt ratify such appointment. Were it possible for me to know whither in Italy to seek my father Hannibal, it is to him I would now proceed, and it would perhaps be more fitting that I should do so, but for one reason. That reason thou canst easily fathom; it exists in the presence of Maharbal with my father’s army. For ’twould seem to all that I were pursuing him, or that since he would not come to me I had gone to him, and that shall never be said of Elissa, daughter of Hannibal. Now, mine uncle, I have said: I accompany thee if thou wilt but have me?” and she threw an arm around his neck caressingly.

“Ay, my dear niece, right gladly will I have thee with me, and do even as thou hast said. For ’tis true that thou hast been neglected hitherto, and life is short, especially in times of war, and blood is thicker than water. I would right fain have thee with me, save for the danger that thou mayst run of thy life. Say, if I take thee, wilt thou promise me to be very careful of thine own safety, my pretty one, my gallant soldier’s daughter?” And gently the uncle stroked the dark tresses of the young woman, whose pale but determined face so near his own shone with nobility, courage, and determination.

She embraced Mago, and smiled softly but somewhat ironically.

“Thou good uncle! I knew well that thou couldst not say nay. But take care of myself!—nay, I will make no such promise. For am I not Hannibal’s daughter? Ay, and his representative—yea, even a general like unto thyself, although I never yet have led my troops in the field. Moreover, thou hast never seen me in my war harness; but thou shalt, and that right soon too.”

And now, laughing outright, she clapped her hands loudly, when two female slaves came running in.

“Order my charger, and prepare me mine armour instantly, and be in readiness to attire me.”

The slave girls retired instantly to do her bidding.

“Now, mine uncle,” quoth Elissa, blowing him back a kiss as she stood in the doorway before following them, “say farewell for a space to Elissa the woman, for in a moment thou shalt see only Elissa the soldier, one who will, when required, bring with her to the battle, under old Gisco, a body of well-disciplined troops, whom she hath trained herself and can thoroughly rely upon. Some of thy large force can remain here to replace them in the garrison of New Carthage.”

When, a few minutes later, Elissa reappeared, fully attired in her light but glorious armour, carrying on her left arm a shining and beautiful shield, inlaid with the horse of Carthage in gold, and having two or three light throwing javelines in her right hand, Mago could not resist a cry of admiration.

“By the great gods Melcareth and Moloch, thou art beautiful! I would to the gods, indeed, that Hannibal could but see thee thus, Elissa; verily, he would be proud of his daughter.”

“Who is, as thou shalt learn, mine uncle, by no means a maiden travestied in warlike panoply merely for stage effect. Wilt thou accompany me to the verandah? Now, what object shall I strike with this javeline?”

Mago pointed out a distant and slender tree trunk.

Poising the javeline for a second, Elissa sent the weapon whizzing through the air, and lo! it was quivering, buried to its head in the bark of the sapling.

“Another object?” she asked.

“The silver figure of the god of love on the fountain; but methinks ’tis over far.”

“Not too far for me,” quoth Elissa; “this is a game that I play well, mine uncle, for I have practised greatly.”

Again a javeline flew through the air with the most marvellous precision, striking the neck of the little silver god with such force that it was transfixed from side to side by the gleaming steel.

“By the great goddess of love herself!” cried Mago, in admiration, “never saw I such dexterity. ’Tis evident that her son’s arrows are but a toy compared to Elissa’s javelines.”

Elissa smiled.

“Now, wouldst see me on my war-horse, mine uncle Mago? ’Twas Maharbal himself who taught me to ride when but a child, and I am on horseback, as thou shalt see, a very Numidian. I have neither saddle nor stirrups; but, merely for show’s sake, a bridle have I, with silver chains for reins; likewise, I have a golden saddle-cloth, to the surcingle of which the reins are, as thou seest, attached to prevent them falling.”

An orderly was leading a splendid bay charger, thus caparisoned, up and down before the verandah of the palace. Taking a short run, Elissa sprang lightly into her seat across the horse.

“Some darts,” she cried; “give me some darts.”

Some half-dozen short, but heavy-headed darts were given to her, which she grasped with her left hand below the shield.

Then pricking the horse with the point of one of the darts that she took in her right hand, she started off at full gallop. Away she sped across the lawn, and in and out among the trees, at such a pace that Mago feared to see her brains dashed out against the tree trunks. But nay, emerging safely from the trees she swept across an open space beyond the fish pond, all the time performing warlike evolutions with her shield; raising it, and protecting her head, or throwing herself flat upon the horse’s back, and covering head and shoulders with it completely.

A third evolution she performed, and that, likewise, while still at full gallop. Suddenly, Mago could see nothing but the glittering shield held alongside the horse’s neck, thus protecting it. All that was visible of Elissa herself was one small foot barely showing above the horse’s croup, her whole body being concealed behind the horse. Then, as the horse came round again in a circle, thundering along the path which led before the palace verandah, Elissa, springing up to her seat again, discharged, with the rapidity of lightning, all her darts in rapid succession. With each she struck the object aimed at. With the last of the whizzing weapons she transfixed and slew a glittering peacock which, frightened by the galloping horse, flew, from its perch upon a marble portico, screaming overhead. Then whirling short round again, she dashed back at the same speed, stopped suddenly by using the reins for the first time, and pulling her horse upon his haunches, sprung to the ground in a second as lightly as she had mounted. She ran swiftly up the steps to her uncle, somewhat out of breath, and with a heightened colour.

“What dost thou think of my horsemanship? The princess saith that ’tis indelicate! But what dost thou think of thy warrior niece thyself? Is she fit to accompany thee to the war against the Romans?”

“Fit to accompany me to the war! Thou art fit to command the army. Why, by Moloch himself! never, save in my beloved brother-in-arms Maharbal, who did himself instruct thee, saw I such horsemanship, combined with such precision in throwing the weapons. In very truth will I take thee with me unto the battle, ay, and willingly, for woe! I say, be to the enemy who should find himself within reach of thy darts. But one thing thou must promise me. Keep thou ever to this Numidian style of warfare, advancing and retiring on horseback, and casting of darts and javelines. But the use of the sword, for which thy bodily strength would not be sufficient, ever avoid; likewise avoid, if possible, dismounting and fighting on foot.”

“Nevertheless, the use of the sword I know too, mine uncle, for good old Gisco hath taught it me for years past.”

“Maybe! Maybe that he hath; but, for all that, promise me to keep, if possible, to the horse and the dart-throwing, in which thou art more than the match for any Roman, and thou shalt come with me into the bloodiest battle. Give me thy word, Elissa.”

“I promise thee, mine uncle Mago, to do thy bidding in this matter, and, further, in all else appertaining unto warfare, to be entirely subservient unto thee.”

Thus it came to pass that, after a year or two’s campaigning, Elissa was present at the fateful battle in which Mago defeated and overthrew Cnœus Scipio. Further, while charging alongside Mago in the hottest of the battle, it was even the hand of Hannibal’s daughter which discharged the missile which struck the Roman General in the joints of his armour, and cost him his life. As at about the same time, Hasdrubal defeated Publius Scipio, and slew him also, for a time the Carthaginians completely regained the upper hand in Spain. For the brothers Scipio, being both dead, there was no one left to lead the Roman forces.

Mago and Hasdrubal now joined hands, and drove the shattered Roman troops into various camps and cities well to the north of the Ebro, after which, Elissa, accompanied by her uncle Hasdrubal and all his army, returned to New Carthage for the winter. But her uncle Mago still kept the field.

CHAPTER XII.
SOPHONISBA AND SCIPIO.

Hasdrubal, remaining in New Carthage for a space longer, when spring set in gave to his niece one day a delightful surprise.

“Elissa,” quoth he, one morn, “wouldst thou like to travel? wouldst thou perchance like to see the African soil whence thy fathers sprung? ’Tis charming, I warrant thee, at this season of the year, and well worthy of a visit.”

Elissa sprung from her seat and dropped her embroidery work, for she had, since the battle in which she had slain Cnœus Scipio, resumed, on her return to New Carthage, her ordinary woman’s attire and feminine avocations.

“Visit Carthage! mine uncle?” she cried excitedly, clasping her hands in glee; “ ’tis the dream of my life to visit that glorious home of mine ancestors.”

“Not so fast! not so fast, my niece; I said not visit Carthage, for there I may not send thee at present, but visit African soil. For I have it in my head to despatch thither an embassy to Syphax, King of the Massæsyllians, a near relative of thy lover Maharbal, of which embassy I propose to make General Hasdrubal, son of Gisco, the chief. I further propose to send with him his daughter, thy friend and companion, that beautiful young girl Sophonisba, and ’tis not meet that she should travel without a responsible female companion. Therefore, shouldst thou fancy a short sea journey, thou art welcome to take advantage of this opportunity. ’Twill be, methinks, a change to thee to visit the court of a prince upon African soil, after having all thy life met with no princes save those of the Iberian race. His kingdom is most fertile and lovely, much resembling in all things the climate of this southern part of Spain; the language thou knowest, for it is thine own Phœnician tongue. Moreover, thou speakest Greek fluently, wherewith thou canst discourse with strangers should they be present. Now, what dost say? Wilt thou go or nay? ’tis a chance that may not hap again in thy lifetime.”

“Go! mine uncle, of course I will go. I long, indeed, to visit African soil; and though it be not Carthage, yet are these Numidians the vassals and friends of Carthage. ’Tis almost the same thing.”

“Vassals of Carthage they are, and friends sometimes. Syphax was the friend of Carthage until lately, and likewise his nephew Massinissa, ruler of Massyllia, the adjoining country to Carthage itself. But latterly the Romans have been tampering with both, and I have news that they, being sorely pressed by Hannibal in Italy, are sending, or have already sent, a new embassy with rich presents and many promises to these princes, with a view to securing their alliance. Therefore, it behoves me to be upon my guard, and to bribe them also. Fortunately we have all the wealth of the silver mines of Southern Iberia at our command, and can therefore send, without impoverishing ourselves, such riches to these barbarian kings as the beggarly Romans can never even dream of. And that, therefore, is what I shall do. Would but to the gods, I could send the treasure to my brother Hannibal himself but no man knoweth where to find him. He hath, ’tis said, recently utterly crushed the Romans in some tremendous battle, but no man knows, as I said but now, where he actually is. At all events, that is the reason that the Carthaginian Government allege for giving him no succour, and as, despite his repeated demands for reinforcements, the Government send him none, and they will not give me a fleet to send to his support, I cannot myself, unfortunately, assist him in that way. But by preventing the Numidians from joining the Roman standard I can in one way aid Hannibal. And ’tis possible thy going into Africa might further the matter. For thou’rt young, handsome, and clever, and thy wits might win what the sterling qualities of General Hasdrubal, the son of Gisco, might not, with his rough and ready tongue, be able to accomplish. Further, Sophonisba may attract the fancy of the King Syphax. As for thyself, thou art affianced, to say the least of it, to his kinsman, Maharbal, so thou art not only safe from any proposals of marriage, but wilt come into his family group with particular rights to be treated with the greatest consideration. Moreover, thou hast tact in the highest degree, and should, as I tell thee in confidence I desire, the African prince become enamoured of Sophonisba, whose charms are really remarkable, thou canst guide the maiden herself, and impress upon her the advantages of union with a king. For although this Numidian hath many concubines, he is yet unmarried. And his friendship and real alliance would be of the greatest advantage to Hannibal at the present crisis. Therefore, my niece, thou canst by going to the court of this barbarian greatly aid my designs. He is, it seems, a really warlike man, and well worth the winning over to our country’s cause, no matter what the bait employed. Moreover, he is, if not quite young, yet well-favoured, and such as any maiden might fancy. So also I hear is Massinissa, his nephew, but Syphax is the more powerful. But I have said enough, and if thou wilt accompany the mission I am convinced that thou wilt succeed.”

“So poor Sophonisba is to be the bait! is she, mine uncle? Well, ’tis in our country’s cause, and after all, ’tis something to become the wife of a king, that is to become herself a queen. Thou canst therefore rely upon me. Should the man not prove an absolute ogre, and thou sayst that he is far from that and well liking, I will persuade Sophonisba, although sorely shall I grieve to part with her, to marry him.”

“Then that is settled, Elissa; keep thou thine own counsel entirely, and I will arrange about the details of the mission during the next few days. Breathe not to Sophonisba herself one single word of what I have said to thee.”

Elissa laughed aloud and patted her uncle on the cheek.

“What dost thou take me for, oh, Hasdrubal the son of Hamilcar? Am I like a babbling brook, or like the Princess Cœcilia, widow of thy late namesake and brother-in-law?”

“Whom I detest most cordially. Nay, nay!” replied Hasdrubal, “may the gods forbid that thou shouldst resemble her, for she is odious! I have it in my mind to crucify her one of these days to encourage virtue in the other women in the palace. For she is most unvirtuous, and worse than that, most unwise. What can I do with her if I slay her not, thou knowest her well Elissa?”

“Watch her carefully, or marry her to someone, that is my advice. To crucify her would be most unjust, for she hath hitherto harmed no one. Her sole vice is folly, but that is, it must be owned, extreme.”

“Well, well, we can see about the fool later on. I shall perhaps know how to deal with her. Methinks I will marry her to one of my lieutenants. There is a certain prefect of horse that would suit her admirably. He is of gigantic stature, almost as tall as thine own Maharbal.”

“And she adores large men,” replied Elissa. “Well, I counsel thee, mine uncle Hasdrubal, marry thou Cœcilia unto him without delay, then shalt thou be relieved of a constant danger in the palace. For there is no greater danger than in the constant presence of a foolish woman!”

“ ’Tis true, my niece—’tis most true. I must consider it. But now let us to the harbour and see about the ships.”

So the pair left the palace together and strolled down to the harbour, where all fitting arrangements were made for the voyage to Africa.

A fortnight later Elissa found herself with Sophonisba, now a girl of seventeen, and her father Hasdrubal, the son of Gisco, arriving at the Court of Syphax, and there they were most royally entertained.

Syphax himself was a splendid Numidian. Some forty years of age, he was handsome, affable, well-instructed, and warlike. His bearing was indeed that of a prince. Frank and good-natured, generous to a fault, he was a man who never suspected evil in others, because there was absolutely no guile in his own disposition. His leanings were all towards Carthage, for until latterly the Carthaginians had ever treated him well, and if latterly they had not done so, he, with his generous nature, put the neglect simply down to the expenses incurred by the long continued war.

There were present at his court, which was most magnificent and luxurious, his nephew Massinissa, a small but muscular and wiry man of an entirely different type to Syphax himself, and also the members of a Roman embassy. And the head of this embassy was Scipio Junior, who wore his left arm in a sling, and looked pale and an invalid. For he had been sorely wounded in two places at a comparatively recent battle, in which fight the man who had struck him down had been his old antagonist Maharbal. Now, by some strange dispensation of the gods, it was his lot to meet as friends in a foreign court not only an embassy of his country’s enemies the Carthaginians, but also the beautiful daughter of Hannibal himself, Elissa, the betrothed of the very man whom upon three separate occasions he had met hand to hand, and upon every occasion to his own discomfiture. And now that he had met Elissa, he fell deeply in love with her at first sight.

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

Battle Field of Cannæ at Commencement of the Action
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.