Hannibal's daughter

by Andrew Haggard

PART V.

CHAPTER I.
TO SYRACUSE.

When Elissa left New Carthage, with the prospect before her of becoming a lifelong prisoner in Rome, the war was indeed, as Scipio had said, raging with fury both in Sicily and Italy. For it is a matter of the greatest astonishment how, in spite of the terrible reverses which she had suffered on Italian soil, Rome pulled herself together for renewed efforts, not only in Italy, then occupied by a successful invading army, but for a continuation of the conflict upon foreign shores. Thus she sent forth fleets and armies to Sardinia, to Spain, and to Sicily, and the Carthaginians, encouraged to renewed exertions by the glorious battle of Cannæ, did likewise.

Thus war was being carried on, at the same time, in all parts of the Mediterranean.

It was raging, too, on Numidian soil, where the kings, Syphax and Massinissa, were now fighting against each other.

Scipio had concluded a treaty with Massinissa, who was fighting therefore nominally in the interests of Rome, against Carthage; but, in reality, in rage and disappointment at the loss of the beautiful Sophonisba, whom he had vowed should be his. In the end, Massinissa was eventually successful in a pitched battle against his uncle, the kind-hearted Syphax, whom he slew, and thereupon he seized upon the fair Sophonisba, whom he promptly forced to be his own unwilling spouse.

Scipio, not thinking it was wise that his ally Massinissa should have in his household a Carthaginian wife, sent him a message that he should send her away to her own country; but rather than lose her, Massinissa presented the unfortunate girl with a cup of poison, and ordered her to drink it.

Remarking placidly that it seemed an inappropriate end for the bride of two kings, but that anything was better than life itself, poor Sophonisba gladly swallowed the poison, and died in agony.

Elissa, while sailing along the coast of Sicily, reflected sadly on this tragedy.

“Such,” she thought, “is the fate of humanity, and the ruling of the gods cannot be foretold. Therefore, as in the very hour of greatest prosperity sudden and great reverses may be awaiting us, it behoveth us all never to neglect the service of those omnipotent rulers of our being.”

Thus reflected Elissa when she looked back upon her own sudden fall from a position of almost regal rank to the state of a mere prisoner of war being deported to a foreign land.

At this time the war in Sicily centred round the enormous and powerful city of Syracuse, which had, with all its surrounding territory, remained, under King Hiero, an independent kingdom for no less than fifty years past. In the previous Punic war, when every other city in Sicily fell, first to one power then to another, neither Roman nor Carthaginian had ever been able to set foot within its walls. And this was chiefly owing to the wisdom of King Hiero himself, who, after various sieges and conflicts with each power in turn, concluded an alliance with Rome, which he maintained throughout his long reign of fifty years’ duration. But Hiero being dead, and succeeded by his grandson Hieronymus, all this was soon changed.

The young king was a debauched youth with an overweening idea of his own importance, and he openly insulted the ambassadors who came to him from Rome to seek a renewal of the old alliance. Insolently asking them, “What account the Romans had been able to give of themselves at Cannæ?” he declared for Carthage.

The city of Syracuse being full of intrigue, some wishing to remain faithful to Rome, others to attach themselves to Carthage, while all alike were disgusted with the cruelties and debauchery of the young king; the latter was soon assassinated, as were also all the princesses of the royal family, including Hiero’s daughter Demarata, and his grand-daughter Harmonia, and their respective husbands Andranodorus and Themistius.

Heraclea, the youngest daughter of Hiero, and her two beautiful daughters were murdered with the greatest brutality, after a terrible struggle; but no sooner were they dead than a messenger arrived from the magistrates who had ordered their murder, but had now relented, to stay the execution, for the very people themselves, who had been thirsting for all the royal blood a short time before, had now turned round upon the magistrates who had ordered the crime and ousted them, calling for the election of new pretors in place of the massacred Andranodorus and Themistius.

And thus it came to pass that two young generals, brothers, named Hippocrates and Epicydes, who were envoys from Hannibal to the Syracusans, came to be elected into power. These two young men were Syracusans themselves on the father’s side, but their mother was a Carthaginian, and they had been brought up in Carthage, where Cleandra had known them well while living there with her husband. They had already been at the bottom of the plotting and the counter-plotting against Rome, and although there were still various parties in the city, upon their election, after various vicissitudes and some fighting within the walls, they contrived to completely embroil the whole of the inhabitants with Rome. This was done by Hippocrates openly attacking, with Syracusan soldiers, a body of troops belong to the Roman consul, Appius Claudius, which the latter had sent to protect his allies in the neighbouring city of Leontini. Epicydes also repaired to Leontini, and by specious arguments persuaded the inhabitants of Leontini to rise against Rome.

Meanwhile the other Roman consul, Marcus Marcellus, he who used to be known by the title of “The Sword of Rome,” who was in the vicinity with a large force, demanded from the Syracusans the surrender of the two brothers, who had dared to attack Roman troops while a state of peace, or at all events of truce, existed between Syracuse and Rome. But the Syracusans pretending that they had no authority to give up the two brothers, as they were now in the free city of Leontini, the two Roman consuls attacked the last mentioned city and stormed it. But the two brothers escaped, and with their usual cleverness persuaded the force of six hundred Cretans, who were with the Syracusan force, which, in the Roman interest, had been sent to capture them, to join their own standard against Rome. And the Cretans in turn persuaded the other Syracusan troops to join them also.

Thus had Hippocrates and Epicydes contrived to completely embroil Syracuse with Rome, and when the ships of Caius Lælius with Elissa on board arrived at the port of Syracuse, they found that the gates of the city were shut, and that it was about to be invested both by sea and land by the two Roman consuls, while the two brothers were supreme within the city, and had on their side a large body of Roman soldiers who had deserted to Syracuse.

Throughout the sea voyage of Elissa and Cleandra, Caius Lælius had faithfully kept his promise to Scipio, and treated Hannibal’s daughter with the greatest respect and kindness. They had visited in turn various ports upon the coasts of Sicily, and the Roman flag-ship and the two other vessels had on a recent occasion narrowly escaped capture at the hands of a Carthaginian squadron off the seaport of Lilybæum. Unfortunately for Elissa, however, Caius Lælius had, after a sea-fight, contrived to make good his escape, although he himself had received a severe wound from a sling during the action. By this wound he was for a time quite incapacitated, and thus was confined to his cabin when his ships arrived off Syracuse. Now during the voyage he had become much attached to Cleandra, whom, it may be remembered, knew the Latin tongue well. She was ever about him, nursing him when sick in his cabin, and Lælius, taking no notice of her presence, freely discussed before her the whole state of affairs with his flag captain, an officer by name Labeo Ascanius. Hence she soon learned the whole condition of affairs, and, moreover, that her two friends, the brothers Hippocrates and Epicydes, were in possession of the city of Syracuse.

With her usual quick-wittedness Cleandra soon set about devising a means for the escape of Elissa and herself from the ship; for however kind Lælius might be himself to the two ladies, they were, none the less, prisoners, and likely to be so for life. Their future fate was uncertain; only one thing seemed certain, that they would infallibly be separated from each other upon arrival in Rome.

Now it so happened that not only Caius Lælius but also his flag-captain, Labeo Ascanius, had, during the voyage, become much enamoured of Cleandra, whose beauty had increased rather than diminished during the four or five years which had elapsed since her flight from New Carthage to Old Carthage. While the Admiral Lælius was well, this officer had had no opportunity of expressing his admiration of Cleandra, but she had, none the less, been perfectly well aware of the fact, and had determined, if possible, to utilise it.

Now that his chief was utterly incapacitated and he himself in supreme command, Ascanius had every opportunity of conversing with and making love to Cleandra, who, while using great discretion lest any of the other officers or seamen should observe anything, made opportunities herself, and encouraged him with all the wiles of a clever woman, still, however, keeping him, in a certain measure, at a distance, and not granting all the favours that he sought of her. At length the Roman became, through her artifices, so inflamed with passion that he told her that he would do anything in the world for her sake if she would but be his. Cleandra, not yet sure of him, did not show him her hand, but, the better to bend him to her will, secretly and repeatedly stirred up Caius Lælius against him on various pretexts, and especially by false reports that she gave him about what was going on in the ship during his own illness. Thus Lælius, being rendered peevish by sickness, on several occasions unjustly found great fault with Ascanius, who became, in turn, incensed against his commander. He did not suspect Cleandra of being the cause of these reports, but his first lieutenant, a man of great probity, named Horatius Calvinus.

At length one day, after Lælius had once again found fault unjustly with his flag-captain, Ascanius, going forth in a rage, accused Calvinus of being the traitor who falsely accused him to the admiral, and, listening to no excuses, put him in irons, treating him with the greatest indignity.

Now was Cleandra’s opportunity. She had learned from Labeo Ascanius himself that his own brother, named Caius Ascanius, formerly a centurion in the troops under Marcellus, was among those who had deserted to the Carthaginian flag, and was now with her friends, Hippocrates and Epicydes, in the city. She took good care not to inform Lælius about his flag-captain having put Calvinus in irons, for it suited her better that he should remain there. However, she falsely informed Ascanius in the afternoon that the Admiral had learned the fact, and had announced to her his intention of publicly degrading him on the following morning, and of placing Calvinus over his head.

Then she plainly proposed to him that to escape from such an unjust degradation he should leave the ship that very night and join his brother. He could take her and Elissa with him in a boat, and, under pretence that he was acting under the admiral’s orders, and about to deliver them over to Appius Claudius, the Roman Consul commanding the fleet that had just arrived, row them ashore, and land at the city steps in the port. These steps, as could be plainly seen from the ships, were protected by a guard of Carthaginian soldiers. As he would be steersman himself, Ascanius could, she pointed out, easily direct the boat to the steps. She suggested he should only take two men, and they such as were faithful to himself. As a reward for his saving them, Cleandra promised to become his wife so soon as they should land. Thus was the plot laid, and Ascanius agreed willingly to Cleandra’s proposals.

That very night, after dark had set in, did Ascanius take the two ladies, who had with them nought save their jewels, to shore in a boat. And upon their arrival at the steps, and Elissa proclaiming aloud in the Carthaginian tongue her name and quality, she was instantly most warmly welcomed with her companions. Thus was their escape successfully contrived by Cleandra’s cleverness, and that night they supped with Hippocrates and Epicydes.

Hippocrates and Epicydes took them to the house of Archimedes, the ancient mathematician, to whose wonderful genius the excellent state of the defences of the city was mainly attributable. Archimedes welcomed them most hospitably, and Cleandra’s promise to Ascanius was immediately redeemed by her becoming his wife that very night, his brother Caius and others being invited to the wedding-feast at midnight, when was much festivity. But Cleandra, while thanking her new husband for having rescued her from a life-long slavery, took good care not to inform him by what wiles she had won him to her will. And he, imagining that he had escaped an unjust degradation on the morrow, and being convinced that he had won for his wife the woman whom he loved, and moreover that she loved him with equal passion, felt no qualms of conscience whatever at his desertion from the Roman standard. Even if he had felt any, were not his own brother and hundreds of other Roman soldiers present who had joined the Carthaginian cause without any of the provocation that he had himself received? He had been, for his part, at least so he believed, merely forced to an act of self-preservation.

On the following day Hippocrates appointed Ascanius to a command in his forces, for, as were all the other deserters in the city, he was now so irretrievably committed that nought but crucifixion or torture could be his lot should he ever again fall into the hands of his own compatriots. There was, therefore, no fear of any treachery to Syracuse on the part of the deserters; it was indeed they who, by fighting to the very last, were mainly instrumental in beating off the assailants for a period of at least three years.

In the meantime, the sage Archimedes had welcomed Elissa and her followers within his hospitable walls, and a considerable sum of money for her maintenance was at once voted by the Senate under the direction of Hippocrates and Epicydes. Archimedes occupied a palace in the city proper, which was named Achradina, whereas the port whereon Elissa had landed on the previous night abutted on Achradina, and was known as Ortygia or the island. They were, in fact, two separate towns, each surrounded by a wall. There were, in addition, two large suburbs surrounded by separate walls, and named respectively Tycha and Neapolis, and the whole city was enclosed by an outside wall no less than eighteen miles in circumference; thus some idea can be formed of its size and the difficulty of a besieging force in investing it. There were two harbours, the greater and the lesser, and while Caius Lælius had joined the Roman fleet under Appius Claudius in the lesser harbour, the Carthaginian fleet, under an admiral named Bomilcar, was riding securely at anchor under the walls in the larger one.

Elissa soon learned that, while Marcus Marcellus was threatening the city with a large Roman land force on one side, there were on the other hand, for its protection, a large number of Carthaginian troops, encamped close at hand under the command of a general named Himilco.

There was thus, at first at all events, no danger to be apprehended of the city falling. In fact, the siege had not begun—it was an attempted blockade at best; and by means of the fleet, free communication was, for a considerable time, established with the outside world. Ships were constantly coming and going from both Carthage and Italy, and although there were occasional small sea fights, yet, owing to the preponderance of the Phœnician ships, the port was virtually open.

Being now only about ninety miles away from the city of Carthage, on the opposite African coast, Elissa was sorely tempted to risk sailing thither to visit the land of her ancestors, which she had never yet seen. From taking this step, however, she was dissuaded by the prudent Cleandra, who assured her that the enemies of her race were far too strong in Carthage for her to venture alone and unprotected within that noble city. For Hannibal’s very successes had made the anti-Barcine party more bitter than ever against him.

Elissa was, however, now able to communicate with her father direct, for hearing that the inhabitants of the city of Capua had recently surrendered to him, she wrote to Hannibal there, acquainting him in full of all that had taken place, and of her now being at Syracuse. Moreover she offered, should he see fit, to leave Syracuse and join him at Capua, in which city she learned that he had established himself with his whole army, intending to remain there for the winter.

It was some considerable time before Elissa received from Hannibal any reply to her letter, but it came at length, just as the spring was commencing.

Hannibal’s letter, which was written by the hand of his friend and scribe Silenus, was so lengthy that it would be impossible to transcribe it here. In it, however, after applauding her for her bravery upon many occasions, and commiserating with her deeply upon the fall of New Carthage, he informed her that his own army was constantly decreasing in numbers, and was also, to his great annoyance, considerably deteriorated in its quality by the ease and delights which the men had experienced during a whole winter passed in the enervating atmosphere of the pleasure-loving city of Capua. He complained bitterly of the small number of reinforcements that had reached him from Carthage, and urged her to remain in Syracuse, and there, by her presence and example, inspire the garrison and the Carthaginian troops, whether of the land forces under Himilco or the sea forces under Bomilcar, to heroic and continued efforts against Claudius and Marcellus. By this means he pointed out that the Roman troops now in Sicily would be compelled to remain there, and thus be unable to cross over into Italy to assist the Romans in prosecuting the war against himself. He informed her further that unless some reinforcements arrived to help him before long he would soon be obliged to content himself with merely defensive operations at the ports he had already captured, but that in that case it would be a matter of great importance that he should be able to make an ally of some foreign power who would be willing to fight with him against Rome. And none, he added, seemed to him so fitting for this purpose as the young King Philip V. of Macedon, who was now constantly engaged in wars of his own in Illyria, or against the various leagues in the Peloponnesus of Greece. These, Hannibal pointed out, Philip seemed in a fair way to subdue, and when he had done so, a young prince of so much ambition would doubtless require a new field whither he might direct his successful arms. Therefore, since it seemed to Hannibal that Elissa by her position on the sea at Syracuse might possibly sooner or later be able to obtain an opportunity of either sending an embassy to Philip, or personally going to meet him, he enclosed a document, giving her full powers on his own behalf to enter into a treaty of offensive and defensive alliance with the Macedonian.

In conclusion, Hannibal gave to his daughter news of Sosilus, of Silenus, and Chœras, all of whom, he said, had hitherto survived the hardships of the long-continued war. Of Maharbal he merely said that he continued to be, as formerly, as his own right arm in all matters appertaining to the war, and that he now looked forward to a period when peace might be assured, that he might reward the fidelity of the Numidian general by giving to him her, Elissa’s, hand in marriage. Hannibal added that Maharbal was writing to her on his own behalf.

Having read her father’s epistle, Elissa turned to her lover’s letter.

Within its pages Maharbal breathed forth such unswerving and straightforward devotion, such absolute faith and trust in herself and her integrity and honour, that before it was half finished she thanked the gods a thousand times that they had inspired her with sufficient strength to remain faithful to this man who had been such an invaluable aid to Hannibal in assisting him to maintain ever to the fore the honour and glory of Carthage. But her cheek burned with shame even as she read. For she realised to her sorrow that whatever honour had prompted her to do in the past or might prompt her to do in the future, she would nevertheless far rather have received those burning lines of love and devotion from the hand of Scipio, the enemy of her father and her country, than from the hand of Maharbal, the brave upholder of her country’s honour and her father’s life-long friend. But such is life, and such are the hearts of women, and despite her burning cheek Elissa knew that since she had ever behaved most straightforwardly and honourably by her absent lover she had done Maharbal no wrong.

Just after she received these letters, the investment of Syracuse by the Romans was commenced with great determination on the land side and the sea side alike. Thus was no opportunity given to Elissa for any reply, neither did she have any means at her command for establishing any understanding with Philip of Macedon.

CHAPTER II.
FROM SYRACUSE TO MACEDON.

Archimedes, the great mathematician, was a little old man, now nearly ninety years of age. He, however, maintained to the full all his powers, both physical and mental. He still seemed to have in his frame the strength of a man not much over fifty, while his brain was by far brighter and clearer than that of any of the young men of the more modern schools. In appearance his eye was bright, his cheek rosy, while his face, although wrinkled, was not by any means wrinkled to excess. He was alert and active on his feet, scarcely ever seemed to require any rest, and not only enjoyed a healthy appetite, but could, when occasion required, sit up late and join the young bloods of the day in a carouse, without seeming to feel any ill effects upon the morrow. He was, at the time of Elissa’s visit, married, for the third time, to a young wife, and he had sons well advanced in middle age, employed in every branch of the Government service.

He had been the counsellor of King Hiero during the whole of that monarch’s reign of fifty years’ duration, and, owing to his own abilities and the munificence of his royal master, Archimedes had, during that long period, been able to bring the defences of the city of Syracuse to a state of perfection little dreamt of by its enemies. Such was the old man whose abilities the Roman leaders had not taken into account before they so lightly entered upon the siege of the fairest city in the whole of Sicily. However, they soon found out, by experience, that one man’s genius is sometimes more effective than mere numbers.

A terrible plague had been raging for some time in both armies before the Romans attempted to push the attack home, and this plague had attacked the defenders and the outside Carthaginian troops far more severely than it had the Romans themselves, for the land forces of the latter were encamped upon higher and better ground, while the sailors on the ships, by keeping out to sea, did not suffer so severely. It had, nevertheless, been an awful time for both parties, and for a long while terror and absolute desolation had reigned supreme. At length, however, the plague abated, after committing the most awful ravages, during which the rotting dead lay piled in unburied heaps, alike in the streets of the city and the interior of the several camps. But before it had abated nearly all the Carthaginian land forces were dead, and both the generals, Himilco and Hippocrates, were among those who had been carried off.

Archimedes and Epicydes were untouched, nor did either Elissa or Cleandra suffer from the contagion. The husband of the latter, Ascanius, however, was among those who had succumbed, and thus was the fair Cleandra once again a widow.

Before long the old man, Archimedes, was left in sole command at Syracuse, for Epicydes, having embarked on board a ship, and joined the fleet with Bomilcar, the Carthaginian admiral, endeavoured to induce him to attack the Romans. But Bomilcar, instead of fighting, fled upon the first approach of the Romans, under Marcellus, off Cape Pachynum, without striking a single blow.

Hereupon Epicydes, being ashamed to return to Syracuse, took refuge in the town of Agrigentum, all his mighty hopes being foiled in a moment. And now some of those within the walls wished to deliver the town over to Marcellus. But Elissa stirred up the remaining Carthaginians in the garrison, and the Roman deserters and the mercenaries, so that they would not hear of surrender, and old Archimedes himself declared that he would destroy with infinite torture, by some newly-invented device of his own, any such as he should discover in treating with the enemy. No terms could be therefore made by the malcontents.

As the ships under Claudius were just preparing to attack, Archimedes took Elissa with him round the walls, showing her all the ingenious devices which his brain had imagined and contrived. The walls were crowded with trained men ready to obey his behest. And as the old man showed her all his inventions, she groaned aloud.

“Why dost thou groan thus, oh Lady Elissa?” inquired Archimedes, smiling. “Thinkest thou that I have not here got together sufficient engines of defence wherewith to smash up and repel all such engines of offence as the Romans can bring wherewith to batter down these walls? Forgive me if I differ from thee, for I think that should not treachery from within show them the way to the kernel, they will find Syracuse the hardest nut that ever they had to crack.”

And he smiled again, as he tried the working of a lever to one of his machines, and turning, casually ordered a workman to give it a little oil.

“Nay, my lord Archimedes! it was no such thought as that, but the contrary, that made me groan,” replied Elissa. “I groaned because I had thee not with me when Scipio attacked my city of New Carthage, for hadst thou but been there the town could never have fallen.”

“Maybe, maybe,” said the old man, looking pleased; “but come, let me show thee the working of the engines. These thou seest are a series of catapults constructed to suit every range. Let us try them to see if they go well.”

An infinite number of missiles of every size had been carefully constructed for years past, and these were all lying ready to hand.

The Roman fleet were anchored in the port at a distance from the walls which they thought perfectly safe, but the old man with his keen eye detected a ship that was a little closer than the others.

“Ha, ha!” he said, rubbing his hands, “they think themselves safe, but my No. 1 catapult here is suited to that range exactly.”

Causing a huge mass of metal to be placed on the propeller of the catapult, and personally adjusting the weapon, Archimedes caused the spring to be released. Instantly the ten talents of lead flew hurtling through the air, and alighting on the deck of the ship, not only crushed two men in its fall, but knocked a hole clean through its further side, through which the water commenced to rush in. In a few moments, hardly allowing time to permit the terror-stricken crew to take to the boats, the ship sunk.

“Excellent!” quoth the old man. “What dost think of that for accuracy, lady Elissa? Now let us try some of the smaller catapults. Those boats are rowing in nearer to us, thinking in error that my engines are only contrived for long distances. We will try, therefore, a No. 2 and a No. 3 catapult with smaller missiles made to suit the range.”

Again two weapons were discharged, and now two boats were sent to the bottom, the sailors after struggling for a few minutes sinking also.

“They will do, they will do!” cried the old man, in glee; “but catapults are, after all, but an old device. Now will I show thee something new, for as thou dost perceive, all the ships of the enemy, being irritated by me, now are rowing towards the walls to assault, and some of them bear at their bow long and wide ladders, with pent-houses at their ends, which they can rear, by pulleys from the mast-head, against our walls. Others, again, have battering-rams with which to charge the foundations. We can leave those with the long ladders, which the Romans call sambucæ or harps, and pay our attention first to yonder vessel in front with the battering-ram. See, it approaches us. Now, my men, ready with the crane. Swing round!”

As the ship, propelled by the rowers, came quite close to the wall, a huge crane swung easily round on a pivot. A heavy chain hung from its end, to which was attached a huge pair of open hands formed of iron. These hands descended above the prow of the doomed vessel.

“Press!” cried Archimedes.

Instantly the iron hands seized the prow of the vessel in an iron grip.

“Raise!” cried Archimedes.

At once, by the mechanism of the machine, the prow of the vessel was raised clean up into the air, all the sailors on deck tumbling off the stern into the sea.

“Fasten!” cried the old man.

The ship remained fastened thus in a bolt upright position, the sailors meanwhile drowning all around its stern.

“Let go!” cried the old mechanician.

A spring was pressed, the iron hands relaxed their grip, and the bow of the ship fell back into the sea with a terrible splash. The ship at once filled with water and sunk, all of the rowers between decks being drowned.

“Two ships already! not bad for a beginning! Now let us pay attention to the sambucæ or harps. Thou seest, lady Elissa, that the wide ladders are reared from the outer bulwarks of two ships lashed close to each other, the oars on the inner sides being removed. There are already four men standing protected, with removable shields, in the pent-house, while many more are waiting to rush up as soon as those four men step forth upon our battlements. We will let them approach, and then they shall see that ’tis not so easy to storm Syracuse.”

In another minute two ships bearing a sambuca came quite close to the battlements, at a point where there seemed to be no engines of defence to resist the attack. For none were indeed visible.

No sooner had the pent-house been placed against the wall than a hundred men commenced swarming up the wide ladder, while the four men in the pent-house at the top removed the shields in front of their platform preparatory to springing on to the battlements.

“Raise and discharge!” cried Archimedes.

In a second an engine, hitherto concealed, reared itself from behind the walls, swung over the top of the pent-house, and released an enormous stone some half-ton in weight.

This stone smashed through the roof of the pent-house, carried those within it and all the armed men on the ladder down with it in a mangled and bleeding mass, and then, falling upon the fore-part of one of the vessels, inflicted serious damage to the ship.

Instantly, in the greatest consternation, the two ships backed their oars and retreated, being pursued by discharges from catapults at successive ranges, and fired at also by numberless scorpions concealed behind the walls, through which small holes had been constructed at the height of the decks of the ships to enable the scorpion-bearers to fire, without themselves being seen or liable to injury.

The action had now become general. On every side Roman ships were advancing, and soon all the engines of every kind upon the walls facing the harbour were in full play. At length, after a most terrible loss in both men and ships, the remains of the Roman fleet retreated in disorder, well out of range.

Thus did Archimedes show Elissa his methods for efficiently protecting a walled city from assault by sea.

On the land side Marcellus was making a combined attack, and attempting to storm the walls with scaling ladders. But there also Archimedes had engines of every description, and his iron hands struck terror into the stormers by seizing them, all iron-clad as they were, and, after poising them for awhile in mid-air, letting them fall again, when they were crushed to pieces. At length, the besiegers on the land side also fell back utterly disheartened, all their battering-rams and every other kind of weapon of offence being destroyed, while quantities of their number lay dead or dying at the foot of the walls.

After a few more attempts at storming the town, which were invariably repelled in a similar manner, any further attempt at taking the city by a coup de main was utterly abandoned by the Roman generals. After this they only maintained a close blockade. Thus for several years did Syracuse maintain its freedom; but at length, after the inhabitants being nearly starved, the city fell by treason from within. For a certain Mericus, a Spanish governor of one of the forts, disclosed to the enemy that a three days’ feast in honour of Diana was ordained, and that Epicydes, who had returned to the city, had directed that a large quantity of wine should be served out to every one of the defenders for want of food. Thus, when all the garrison were drunk, from drinking without eating, the walls of the suburb were stormed near Hexapylos without resistance, and many of the garrison were slaughtered in their drunken sleep. Achradina, being held by deserters and the mercenaries, did not, however yet yield, and many most terrible and bloody counter-attacks were made upon the Romans by gallant sallies, headed in person by Elissa. At length, Epicydes having fled, the principal inhabitants attempted to yield up the city to Marcellus, whereupon the deserters and mercenaries attacked the Syracusan prætors, and others who were traitors, and slew them.

But now Mericus the Spaniard opened by night the gates of his post in Achradina, which was situated near the fountain of Arethusa, and let the Romans in. Although the consul Marcellus had given instructions that the life of Archimedes was to be spared, an ignorant and brutal soldier slew him as he was leaning over his table intently studying a problem.

After fighting in the streets at the head of a body of faithful Spanish mercenaries until half of their number were slain, Elissa made her way successfully down to the great port, where she embarked with the remainder upon a quinquereme which she had duly prepared in advance, and whereon, fearing the worst, she had already some days past caused Cleandra to embark with all their money and valuables. And it being still dark, they were able, by rowing very gently, to pass unperceived through the ships of the Roman fleet and so to make the open sea. Then, heading eastward, a strong west wind aiding, they made for Greece. Sailing round the south of the Peloponnesus, they arrived without mishap at the port of Nauplia.

Learning at that place that King Philip of Macedon had, after first finishing a campaign against the Ætolians, just returned from the celebrated Nemean games, and was now at the adjacent town of Argos, Elissa repaired thither with all her men. Sending forward a herald several miles in advance, she demanded an audience of the young king. This, from having long since heard by repute of the great beauty of Hannibal’s daughter, he was only too glad to grant, and at once sent back heralds in return with friendly messages and assurances of good will, informing Elissa that he would himself in an hour’s time ride forth to meet her.

Now this Philip was one of the most libertine of all the Macedonian kings, and his allies in war, the people of Argos, were at this very time only too anxious to be rid of him. But, owing to his power and the necessity they were then under of protection, they were unable to ask him to go, but had to make the best of things as they were.

Having decked herself with her most becoming raiment and adorned her person with many beautiful jewels, Hannibal’s daughter, with Cleandra and her Spanish soldiers, marched forward towards the Macedonian camp outside Argos.

Elissa was welcomed with great pomp and ceremony by King Philip, who, in all his royal robes and insignia, and attended by all his courtiers, advanced to meet her from his magnificent camp, of which the tents were made of purple silken fabrics interwoven with gold. He welcomed Hannibal’s daughter as one herself of royal blood.

Philip was a young man of most god-like beauty, and his strength of sinew, his perfection of face and form, were almost unrivalled by any man then living. When he came forth to meet Elissa outside his camp he was mounted on a splendid and richly-caparisoned war-horse, and surrounded by his courtiers. Further, in order to do Elissa still greater honour, he had commanded the attendance of Polycratia, who, while nominally Philip’s queen by marriage with him, was in reality the wife of one Aratus, from whom she had been illegally divorced. Polycratia appeared in a gorgeous and most commodious litter, of which the frame was of silver, and the cushions of the softest down covered with rose-coloured silk, all being worked through with threads of silver.

After most courteously saluting Elissa, the king presented her to his queen, with whom he requested her to mount in the litter; Cleandra being placed in another splendid litter with one of the young queen’s principal attendants named Chloe.

Owing to the Greek tongue having been so commonly known in all the cities of Southern Iberia, and especially in Gades, whence came her royal mother Camilla, Elissa was able to enjoy the conversation of her host without any need for an interpreter. Greek had indeed been the language which both she and Cleandra had been forced to employ during the whole of their stay in Syracuse.

Thus they were able to converse freely, and as the cavalcade, headed by a band of musicians, returned to the Macedonian camp, the king, leaning over from his beautiful charger, lost no time in complimenting Elissa, with gracefully turned phrases, upon her beauty being greater even than it was said to be by common report.

Elissa smiled at the compliment, and felt pleased at her beauty being thus recognised and applauded by this handsome young king; but Polycratia did not smile. She, knowing the king’s fickleness, naturally dreaded a rival in Elissa, for she recognised at once that such beauty as Elissa’s was exceptional; while, owing to her exalted rank, she was not a woman of whom the king could merely attempt to make one of his ordinary playthings. A foreboding of evil for herself filled Polycratia from the very first minute she saw Philip endeavouring to charm the new-comer with his honied words.

Upon arrival in the camp a magnificent tent, divided into many apartments, and most luxuriously furnished, which had been already pitched, was appointed to Elissa and Cleandra. When Elissa would have posted a guard of her own faithful Spaniards round her pavilion, Philip would by no means hear of it. Urging that her soldiers were war-worn and weary, and should now be relieved for a while from their military duties, he sent them to be distributed among the troops in different parts of the camp, giving orders for their proper entertainment. And he posted a guard of honour of his own spearmen over Elissa’s quarters. By this show of consideration and kindness Hannibal’s daughter was at first impressed and pleased accordingly; but the wily Cleandra, who, during the short time she was in the litter with Chloe, had found out much about the king, viewed this arrangement with much disfavour. For as she pointed out to Elissa upon the first opportunity, they were now, from being deprived of their own trusty followers, reduced to the position of two weak women entirely at the mercy of the Macedonian. But Elissa quieted her follower’s fears. She pointed out to Cleandra that if the king should have any other than honourable designs towards them, which she doubted, it would not be the presence of some hundred and fifty Iberians in the middle of a large army of Macedonians which would prevent him from carrying them out. All that they could do would be to trust to the king’s honour, and she thanked the gods that he had received them so honourably and courteously into his camp. For now, continued Elissa, she had hopes from his kind manner that she might be able to conclude with him the offensive and defensive alliance concerning which Hannibal had written to her.

Elissa and Cleandra were entertained at a feast that evening by the king, and at its conclusion, when Philip was merry with wine, she proposed the alliance to him. At first, being in a good humour, he made no objections whatever to such an alliance, and seemed, indeed, to wish it himself. But, saying that he would talk the matter over further as they went along, he rose, remarking that he would escort her with his guards to her tent; nor would he take any refusal.

When he arrived there, Philip, leaving the guards without, entered with his guest on the pretence of seeing that all his orders had been complied with. Once within one of the inner apartments of the huge tent, he threw himself upon a luxurious divan, begged Elissa likewise to be seated, and suggested to her that she should now send away her waiting-lady, in order that they might discuss matters of State together alone.

Cleandra was therefore sent away, and Elissa was left alone with the king. He had not been alone with her for a minute before Elissa regretted deeply that she had disembarked at Nauplia or marched to Argos. For, inflamed as he was with wine, the king dropped his mask at once, and made love to her violently. When Elissa, surprised, sought to repel him, he took her in his arms by force, kissed her, and treated her grossly. Never had Elissa been so insulted since the time when she had fallen into the hands of the villain Adherbal. But alas! there was no Maharbal at hand now to protect her.

Furious with rage, Elissa struggled to get free from the king’s arms, fighting against him with all her strength, for she would have none of him. At first Philip, being jovial, only laughed good-humouredly at her struggles, but he became angry as she continued to resist him.

Suddenly releasing her from his arms, he exclaimed furiously:

“Very well, my lady Elissa! if thou wilt have none of mine embraces, neither will I have any of thy treaties.” And seizing the document which she had displayed to him, and which had been sent to her by Hannibal, he tore it into several pieces. Dashing the pieces to the floor, he spurned them with his heel, and flung himself out of the tent in a passion.

Elissa, who had fallen exhausted and panting upon a divan, looked at her torn-up credentials, and realised what she had done. She had deeply offended this powerful monarch, by whose aid she had hoped she might restore the now waning fortunes of Carthage. What should she do now? The early teachings of her father came to her mind. Had he not often told her that in nought was she ever to think of self where the welfare of her country was concerned—that not even personal shame was to be considered in such a case, but that absolutely she was bound under all circumstances to think of her duty to her country alone, of herself not at all. And had not the time now come when she must make a great sacrifice? Was she merely for the sake of her own outraged vanity—it might even be outraged honour—to desert her country’s cause when such a mighty issue was at stake?

“No!” Elissa cried violently, springing to her feet. “If ever I must sacrifice myself for my country I must sacrifice myself now, and the gods will forgive me, for ’twill be for the glory of Carthage.”

Thus her resolve was made as she realised her duty. And then she covered her eyes with her hands and wept softly. For she was thinking of Scipio, who loved her so dearly, and whom she knew in her heart she loved, and of the honour and fidelity which she had, despite that new love, preserved in vain for Maharbal. And she vaguely wished that some such terrible crisis as this now staring her in the face had arisen to make her yield to the prayers and supplications of a Scipio whom she loved and honoured, rather than to the brutal threats and menaces of a Philip whom she loathed and despised. But the die was now cast; so calling Cleandra to her, she told her all.

CHAPTER III.
A SACRIFICE.

As in the morning the sight of the crimson and gold hangings of the tent gradually impressed upon Elissa the sense of her surroundings, a weight like lead fell upon her heart; but with a prayer to the gods that they might inspire her with strength to carry out her great and terrible resolve, she rose. A small gong was at hand, she beat upon it for Cleandra; but instead of Cleandra, there entered a stranger.

“Who art thou?” inquired Elissa haughtily, “and where is Cleandra?”

“My name is Chloe, oh lady Elissa, and I have been deputed to thy service by the king. Thine attendant Cleandra was removed hence last night; she hath, by the king’s orders, taken up mine own duties as chief lady in attendance upon Queen Polycratia. His Majesty hath charged me with his royal greetings unto thee, and bids me inform thee that at such time as thou shalt be prepared to receive him he will present himself before thy noble presence to inquire for thy welfare.”

Elissa’s pride and anger rose upon hearing that Cleandra had been taken from her. She was about to give some furious reply when her eye fell upon the torn pieces of paper still lying where the king had spurned them with his foot the previous night, and she refrained. “I am,” she murmured to herself, “but as a fly in the web of some poisonous spider, and have, alas! no power to withdraw myself from the trammels of its horrid folds. But though alone and entangled, yet will I be strong.”

“Leave me to mine ablutions,” she commanded, “and inform thy master that I will see him in an hour’s space.”

At the appointed hour the sound of martial music heralded the king’s approach, while the clanging of arms without denoted the guards saluting. As he entered the tent, the flood of sunlight streamed in with him and lighted upon his figure. The bright beams of morning, shining on his brilliant arms, made him, as he stood there in all the vigour and beauty of youthful manhood, seem as ’twere the sun-god Apollo himself who had alighted upon earth. But Elissa groaned inwardly, to think that one so noble in his bearing could yet be so utterly ignoble in his life.

She remained standing to receive him, looking at him coldly, and making no sign of any salutation.

“Fair lady Elissa,” said the king, “I well see that thou art displeased with me, and I own with contrition that I greatly deserve thy displeasure. For last night the fumes of the rich red wine, combined with thine own excessive charms, did make me forget for a mad moment that I was King Philip thy host, and thou the lady Elissa my guest. Wilt thou not pardon me? for deeply do I grieve if I have offended.”

“King Philip,” replied Elissa proudly, “in sooth thy welcome of me hath not been such as I should have expected from a noble monarch with a glorious name. How canst thou expect forgiveness so soon from a woman whom thou hast so deeply insulted—one, moreover, whose person should be sacred. For she cometh to thee as ambassador from the mighty Hannibal, before whom the power of Rome herself hath for years past trembled. Therefore, before I say I will forgive thee, tell me what wilt thou do to make amends for mine outraged modesty and dignity. It is a matter for consideration.”

Calmly and fearlessly did Elissa stand before him, never flinching, but gazing steadily into his eyes, which fell before her own.

Philip hesitated a minute, toying nervously with the hilt of his sword, ere he replied.

“Full amends will I make, fair lady Elissa, if thou wilt but grant me thy pardon and my request.”

“What is that request? and what are thy amends, oh Philip?”

“My request is this, that thou wilt join thy life unto mine to be my companion for good or ill, through fair weather or through foul. My promised amends are these: if thou wilt but assent to become for me thus the one woman in the world whose sweet companionship shall make earth heaven, I will bind myself in turn, by solemn treaties before the gods, to help Hannibal, thy father, with all my forces by land and by sea. I will bind myself to attack the Romans wherever I can find them, to fall upon and destroy their cities and their colonies, and, moreover, to send a large body of troops to reinforce Hannibal himself. And thou, sweet lady Elissa, shall draft the terms of the treaty, which shall, so soon as we are united, be sent by ambassadors to Hannibal himself to ratify.”

Elissa concealed her rising anger, and answered calmly:

“Good, my lord king; but how can I accept this dishonour, for such it is, and become thy life companion when thou hast a bride already? What wilt thou do with the Queen Polycratia, the noble lady who but yesterday received me so courteously? For know this, oh Philip! that however she may fall, the daughter of Hannibal will, nevertheless, take no second place. Nay, should she listen to thine unscrupulous proposal, she will yet hold the place of queen, and queen alone. There cannot be two queens; and whate’er may be her ties, any other woman must give way before Elissa.”

“Polycratia, ’tis true, must be got rid of,” replied the young king brutally; “but that is easy. Although I made her queen, she is not really my wife, but the wife of one Aratus, from whom I took her. Thus ’tis simple enough. I will send her back to her husband Aratus, and by so doing shall I greatly please this unruly nation of the Achæans. Thus, fair lady Elissa, thou wilt alone reign queen of my heart, and there will be no other to dispute thy sway in Macedon.”

“And thinkest thou, oh Philip, that Polycratia will be happy thus? But, after all, what is she to me? A woman myself, I cannot seek to rule the fate of other women; yet would I strive to rule the fate of Carthage and to injure Rome, otherwise I had not listened for a moment to thine unworthy proposals. Therefore, King Philip, hearken! If thou wilt send away thy queen, and if thou wilt make a treaty as I shall dictate, then, when I have actually seen, with mine own eyes, the departure of the ambassadors to Hannibal, will I, as my share of the bargain, yield unto thee myself, and become the minister of thy will. But ere these things be accomplished, seek not again to intrude upon my privacy; and, above all things, beware of again taking advantage of my defenceless position to insult me. For seest thou this dagger which I have concealed about me? Had I thought on it last night when thou wast brutally ill-treating me, thou hadst assuredly been slain. But by Melcareth, ruler of the universe! if thou dost, before the despatch of this treaty of alliance—to obtain which I must sacrifice mine honour—but so much as lay a hand on me, I will assuredly slay myself with this weapon. For although I may consent, solely seeking the welfare of my country, to give myself to thee, think not that I do love thee, Philip. Nay, far from it! I do scorn and despise thee, king as thou art!”

Elissa’s nostrils quivered with nervous emotion and angry scorn as, with the dagger uplifted in her hand, and her head thrown back, she gazed upon the king with determined glance and flashing eyes.

Philip was cowed by her demeanour, but he would have liked to have seized her in his arms once more even then had he dared.

“Oh, never mind the love,” he said, smiling; “that will come later. Other women have said that before thee—ay, even this very Polycratia herself did speak just so. But thine assent is the important thing, and that is now settled; it is therefore a bargain between us. Now what may I do to please thee?”

Elissa turned from the king in utter disgust as she thought of her long and steadfast faith to Maharbal, of her pure but fruitless love for Scipio, both now to be sullied and polluted by the surrender of her person to this satyr of a king. And inwardly a great cry rose up in her heart. “Oh, Hannibal, my father, thy precepts have cost me dear!”

“This thou canst do to please me, King Philip,” she exclaimed freezingly. “Remove thyself from my sight until such time as I have to endure thy presence whether I will or no.”

Turning her back upon Philip she left the apartment. But the king laughed aloud, utterly careless of her feelings.

A few days later the treaty was completed on terms most favourable to Hannibal and Carthage. And when Elissa had actually seen an embassy, headed by one Xenophanes, sail with five ships for Italy, she completed her great, her terrible act of self-sacrifice in her country’s cause.

When once the die had been cast, Philip seemed anxious to prove to Elissa that he had been in earnest in concluding for her sake the treaty with Hannibal. He took, within a week or two of the departure of the ambassadors, an irrevocable step, and one which was calculated to embroil him absolutely with Rome. For, having heard that a Roman army, accompanied by King Attalus of Rhodes, and also the Ætolians, had landed on the Peloponnesus to wage war upon the Achæans, with whom he was then allied, Philip took advantage of the occasion, and, without waiting to make any declaration of war, marched out against the Romans in gallant array with all his army.

Falling upon them unexpectedly, he cut all their forces to pieces, and indeed almost annihilated them to a man.

Returning to Elissa, laden with Roman spoils, he laid them at her feet.

Upon seeing this immediate proof of his devotion, Elissa could not help recognising the fact that her self-sacrifice had not been entirely in vain, and she thanked the gods that they had given her the courage to carry it out to the bitter end.

Alas for Elissa! although for long she lived in hope, this first success was also the last. For a series of adverse circumstances coming one upon another utterly frustrated the projects of Philip to assist Hannibal and to combine with the Carthaginians in a war which, had things gone differently, would, in all probability, have had the result of wiping out the Roman nation and of making Carthage supreme on the Mediterranean coasts. The first piece of bad luck was the falling of Xenophanes and all his embassy into the hands, in the province of Campania, of a certain praetor named Valerius; but that first disadvantage was got over by the lying propensities of Xenophanes. For he, of all the Greeks, was one of the greatest adepts in the ancient art of using the power of speech as a means to conceal his thoughts.

Thus, when arrested by Valerius, he readily admitted that he and his suite were come as ambassadors to Italy, but represented that it was to the Consul Marcus Marcellus, the conquerer of Syracuse, who was now in Italy, that he was accredited. Thus, being believed, he was readily given all the necessary information as to how he should proceed so as to avoid the Hannibalian forces, and allowed to continue on his journey unmolested. Owing to the information he had received, the wily Greek was enabled easily to avoid any other Roman army, and actually contrived to find Hannibal himself in the province of Apulia. To the great conqueror he safely communicated the treaty and all the letters that he carried from Philip and from Elissa, which he had contrived to conceal about his clothing. Hannibal, while naturally astonished and greatly annoyed at learning that his daughter was now at the court of such a dissolute monarch as Philip, was delighted with the treaty which she had been the means of bringing about, and which, so favourable were the terms to Carthage, he lost no time in ratifying.

Upon his sending back the Macedonian ambassadors, however, accompanied by some Carthaginian envoys to Philip, the whole of the embassy, after arriving safely on board their ships, were detained at sea by a Roman fleet, and once again Xenophanes was taken before Valerius. He, from the Carthaginian envoys, discovered the whole plot, although by his aptitude for lying, Xenophanes had a second time almost escaped.

They all were now taken as prisoners to Rome, where they suffered great tortures and hardships.

Thus, from want of a concerted plan of action, Philip was utterly unable to render to Hannibal the necessary assistance at the required time. Nevertheless, hearing of the capture of his ambassadors, Philip sent fresh envoys to Hannibal, and the treaty being ratified, he set to sea with a few ships to try to organise a large fleet of his own vessels, added to some from his Grecian allies and others lying in various ports, with which to harass the whole Italian coast. Unfortunately, owing to the sudden unwarranted fears of his captains, which panic, it is said, even gained upon the king himself, this enterprise proved utterly fruitless. For upon the false alarm that a large Roman fleet was advancing, whereas there were at the utmost only some ten Roman frigates which were lying, themselves fearful of his approach, in a Sicilian harbour, Philip fled precipitately with his ships, and returned to Macedon without striking a blow by sea. For, in sooth, he was no sailor, although a right gallant warrior on land. And the Romans, being reinforced, captured all the ships he would have mustered, and remained completely masters of the sea.

Elissa was not long in learning the facts of this expedition, which Philip had vainly sought to colour to his own advantage, and being furious with herself for having given way to him without having gained any commensurate advantages for her country, and furious also with Philip, she taunted him bitterly, telling him that the only wars in which he was successful were those that he waged upon women.

After this, although Philip remained captivated with Elissa’s regal beauty, life became almost intolerable between them. Hannibal’s daughter continually stirred the king up with her invectives and reproaches to fresh enterprises; but for want of a sufficient fleet he was unable, after his first naval reverse, to invade Italy, and go to Hannibal’s assistance. He therefore contented himself with warlike expeditions by land in all parts of Greece, and even Asia Minor, against all such as were the allies of Rome. But between the Romans and himself there were no serious conflicts, and, in fact, only a state of semi-warfare existed, the Romans being too much employed elsewhere to pay any serious attention to the Macedonian so long as he left their own actual coasts alone. They, therefore, contented themselves by constantly sending embassies requesting him to desist, under threat of serious punishment, at which embassies Philip merely snapped his fingers. Thus, despite the prayers of Elissa to either build ships or else march by land to Italy, as her father had done from Spain before him, the war upon which Philip had launched, in his ardour to win over Hannibal’s daughter, proved of no use to Hannibal himself whatever. Nevertheless it continued for years, and the name of Philip was so dreaded on land that so long as the Macedonian was unable to effect any junction with Hannibal, the Romans were quite contented to leave him alone, other than, as already mentioned, by sending threatening embassies.

But Elissa’s discontent grew continually more and more, for she ever regretted bitterly having given over her fate into this man’s hands. In one of these wars, fearing to leave Elissa behind in case she might perchance either leave his court in his absence or be captured by some rival monarch, Philip took her with him, and Cleandra with her. It was an expedition upon which he had embarked against the city of Abydos, upon the Hellespont. The city was obstinately defended, and while King Attalus and all the Rhodians sailed through the Ægean Sea to the assistance of Tenedos, the Romans sent the youngest of their ambassadors, one Marcus Æmilius, to Abydos itself to warn Philip to desist.

Now this Marcus Æmilius had been, as quite a lad, present with Scipio at the court of Syphax at the time of Elissa’s presence there, and she knew him well. But when she saw him appear before Philip she made no sign of ever having seen the man before, for he was now celebrated as the handsomest man of his time; and having already quite enough to suffer from the tyranny of Philip, she determined to give the Macedonian king no opportunity of making her life more unbearable than usual by becoming jealous also.

Æmilius having, however, been received honourably and appointed certain tents in the king’s encampments before Abydos, Cleandra easily obtained access to him before he had had more than the most formal interview with Philip, one merely, indeed, to present his credentials, upon which occasion Elissa had seen him, and longed to speak to him for the sake of old times.

Cleandra soon told Æmilius that her royal Mistress Elissa sent him warm and friendly greetings, and inquired kindly for himself and for Scipio, his former chief.

Marcus in return sent greetings to Elissa, and informed her that not only had he recent tidings of Scipio, but had also a letter from him to deliver to herself; further, that he awaited the result of his embassy to the king to see whether he should deliver the letter in person or send it to her by the hand of Cleandra, for he would like if possible to make its delivery an opportunity of approaching her mistress. But Cleandra he retained a long time with him, for she was still young and beautiful, and had, moreover, travelled greatly. The young Roman was not enjoying life at all in his present capacity, among a people with whom he could only talk by means of an interpreter, and was delighted to meet a handsome young woman with whom he could converse freely in the Latin tongue. Eventually Cleandra left him, promising to see him again after he had had audience of the king.

CHAPTER IV.
A LETTER FROM SCIPIO.

The king received Æmilius in audience on the following morning in the presence of Elissa and all his courtiers, and from the beginning it was evident that the interview would be a stormy one. For the young ambassador commenced by informing Philip that the Senate ordered him not to wage war with any Greek state, nor to interfere in the dominions of Ptolemy, and to submit the injuries that he had inflicted upon Attalus and the Rhodians to arbitration, saying that if he obeyed these orders they would grant him peace, otherwise he must take the consequences of the enmity of Rome. Upon Philip endeavouring to show that the fault was all on the other side, and that the Rhodians had been the first to lay hands on him, Marcus interrupted the king insolently:

“But what,” he said, “of the Athenians? And what of the people of Abydos at this minute? Did any one of them also lay hands on thee first?”

Philip, at a loss for a reply, said:

“I pardon the offensive haughtiness of thy manners for three reasons; first, because thou art a young man and inexperienced in affairs; secondly, because thou art the handsomest man of thy time; and thirdly, because thou art a Roman. But if the Romans choose to behave badly to me I shall defend myself as courageously as I can, calling upon the gods to defend my cause.”

With these words the audience was broken up. It was now evident from the temper of the king that in all probability no opportunity would occur for Marcus to meet Elissa in friendly converse. But under pretence of seeking a further audience later on, Æmilius remained until the fall of Abydos, which took place after some most desperate hand-to-hand fighting. Meanwhile, Cleandra visited him again on various occasions, and eventually obtained from him Scipio’s letter, which she herself delivered to Elissa, although Marcus had been most anxious to see Elissa and deliver it in person.

So Abydos fell! and its fall was accompanied by the most terrible scenes that it is possible to imagine. But the horrors that took place were not owing to the cruelty of Philip, but rather to the insensate folly of the inhabitants of Abydos themselves, who had determined to slay all their wives and children rather than that they should fall into the hands of the enemy. They had intended also to destroy at one blow the whole of their gold and silver and valuable property, but Philip found it all ready to his hand, having been collected in two ships, which they had not had time to put out to sea and sink as intended. Thus he captured it all, an immense booty.

When Philip entered the town the people of the city commenced to slay themselves and each other. When he saw the numbers and fury of those who were stabbing, burning, hanging, throwing themselves and others into wells, or precipitating themselves from house-tops with their children and their wives, Philip was overpowered with surprise and horror, as was Elissa. She, indeed, with tears in her eyes, conjured him, by all the gods, to put a stop to these terrible proceedings if it were possible, for the city was filled with the shrieks of the dying women and children. Thereupon Philip published a proclamation announcing “that he gave three days’ grace to all those who wished to hang or stab themselves.” Thus, if they so willed, they had plenty of time to leave the city with their women, and neither become prisoners of war themselves nor run the risks of their wives and daughters being taken into slavery by the conqueror. But with the exception of a quantity of the more beautiful girls, whom Philip had saved upon first entering the city, the inhabitants of Abydos continued to slaughter themselves wholesale by families. For they considered themselves as traitors to those who had already died for their country should they survive them.

Philip, seeing that they took no notice of his proclamation, allowed them to go their own way to destruction. He himself celebrated the conquest of the town in his usual manner, by indulging openly with his courtiers in scenes of unbridled drunkenness and debauchery.

These he now indulged in the more openly, in order that he might annoy the unhappy Elissa and humiliate her before others, in which design he certainly succeeded.

For seeing herself made of so little account before the eyes of all, Elissa, disgusted and disgraced, determined to put an end to her miserable existence once and for all.

But Cleandra, as upon a previous occasion, urged her yet to live for her country’s cause. And this was upon the very night on which Cleandra obtained from Æmilius Scipio’s letter, which came as balm to soothe her. It was written in Greek, and was as follows:—

“From Publius Cornelius, son of Publius Cornelius Scipio, to Elissa, daughter of Hannibal.

“In the name of the great god Jupiter, lord of the universe, greeting! The years have passed away one by one with rapidity, and great and sudden have been the changes upon the face of the world. But one thing hath neither passed away with time nor altered with change. As Scipio did love thee when thou didst even weep upon his shoulder upon bidding him farewell in New Carthage, so doth he now love thee upon sending thee these lines of greeting from Rome. And greatly doth he long to have tidings of thee by thine own hand, and still more to again behold thy beautiful and beloved features.

“Elissa, I, Scipio, have been fighting all these years in Iberia, and have driven out thine uncle Hasdrubal in the north, who marched across the Alps into Italy, and fell bravely fighting at the battle of the Metaurus. I have likewise driven out thine uncle Mago in the south, who, after retiring for a space to the Balearic Islands, hath now seized upon the city and province of Genoa in Northern Italy. Hasdrubal, the son of Gisco, have I also met in various bloody encounters, in which the gods were ever propitious to me and to the arms of Rome. Thus all Iberia hath fallen into my hands, and I am now recalled to Rome. For owing to the continued presence of thy father and his armies, after so many years, even yet continuing the struggle with occasional successes in the south of Italy, and on account of the great insult that he put upon the city of Rome herself, in riding up to her walls and throwing his javeline over the very city gates, the Romans are now determined to take by my hand means to avenge these insults by carrying the war beyond our coasts upon African soil. And since there is no secret made of this determination, I do write unto thee upon the subject for thine own welfare. For, my beloved, even as I have loved thee, and offered up my prayers and sacrifices unto the gods for thy sake during all these my vicissitudes by war, so do I still consider thee and love thee with a single-minded devotion that nought save death may change.

“Therefore, no thought of any possible military glory which may accrue unto myself can weigh in the balance where thy happiness and welfare are concerned, especially since I see that through thee any further bloodshed may now be avoided. For thy country of Carthage may be even yet saved from invasion if thou wilt but hearken unto my words and come to me now, when I will espouse thee, and peace will be made between Rome and Hannibal. For both sides are utterly weary of this endless war, and thy father Hannibal, after having lost Capua, which was retaken by our arms despite his repeated attempts to relieve it, after having lost Tarentum, which is also retaken by Rome, after having lost nearly all his Numidian cavalry at the town of Salapia, including, it is said, thine old lover Maharbal, is now reduced to the position of a wolf guarding the mountain passes of Bruttium and the few Greek cities on the Bruttian promontory beyond. ’Tis true that, like the bold wolf that he is, he doth occasionally sally forth from his corner of Italy, and ever with certain success; and hath even recently, in one of these expeditions, slain the mighty Marcus Marcellus himself, the sword of Rome, the conqueror of Syracuse, for whose memory thou canst bear no great love. For I did hear how, after thine escape with Cleandra, by the treachery of the flag-captain, from Caius Lælius’s ship—which escape did greatly chagrin both Caius, on account of Cleandra, and myself—fearing for thy life in Syracuse—thou didst bravely fight against Marcellus throughout the whole siege, ay, even until the fall of the city. And since then, although having learned with greatest joy of thine escape from death in the final massacre of Syracuse, I have become aware, with deep regret, of thy residence at the court of Philip of Macedon. From him I would have thee at once fly in the ship with Marcus Æmilius, the bearer of this letter, whom thou didst meet with me in Numidia. For it is not possible but that the doings of the daughter of Hannibal must be known everywhere, especially when that daughter is Elissa, whose beauty and feats are so celebrated. Hence I, in common with all the Romans, have perfectly understood that it is thou thyself Elissa who hast been the cause of the war between Philip of Macedon and Rome. For knowing thy devotion to thy country, it is not difficult for me to clearly understand with what object thou hast consented to live with the base Macedonian wretch, whom, so I have recently heard by spies, maketh thee by no means happy. But for one reason do I ardently desire the continuation of that war of thy making with Philip, and that is that the gods may spare me to drive my sword up to the hilt in the throat of the scoundrel king. For hath not he, by nought save guile and wickedness, gained possession of that one dear flower of womanhood which I would have plucked and worn myself; and hath not he again, after having himself ravished the flower from its stem, now left its petals in all their sweetness to wither and perish with neglect? Therefore, accursed be he—ay, doubly accursed—by all the gods!

“Now Elissa, my beloved, after deep communing with the mighty Olympian gods, who have even appeared unto me in dreams, they have clearly pointed out to me both my duty to my country and to the woman whom I love, and also the duty to her country, to herself, and even to me, Scipio, of that woman, she being Elissa, the daughter of the great Hannibal, son of Hamilcar Barca. Thus the gods themselves, by whom, as thou knewest in times past, I am beloved, and who appear unto me still, even as did Neptune, god of the sea, before the fall of the New Town, have clearly directed thy course for thee for the sake of thine own country’s welfare. Since, moreover, there is now no longer the shadow of the Numidian Maharbal between us, do I beseech thee to fly from the court of this dissolute Philip, and come to Rome with Marcus Æmilius; and then I pledge thee my troth that, saying never a word of reproach concerning the said Philip, I will make thee my loved and honoured wife. And there shall thus, by thee, be peace again between Carthage and Rome, after so many years of warfare and of misery. Now, farewell, Elissa. I prithee salute the lady Cleandra if she be still with thee; Caius Lælius likewise sendeth her salutations. As for thyself, I commend thee to the blessing of the gods.

“(Sealed) Scipio.”

CHAPTER V.
A SCENE OF HORROR.

It was night, a calm summer night, when Elissa, after reading Scipio’s letter, remained alone within a gorgeous pavilion in a camp established upon the shores of the Hellespont, the letter lying listlessly upon her lap. With head thrown back upon the cushions of her divan, the light of a single cresset lamp, formed of gold in a chaste design, but barely illumined her features, for she was withdrawn, while thus leaning back, from the radius of its not too powerful glow. The doors of the tent being open, Elissa could see the radiant moonbeams without dancing upon the waters of the Hellespont, and lighting up at the same time the tideless sea and the mountains upon the further shore.

The Carthaginian maiden rose, and stepping without the tent gazed wistfully across the straits. How peaceful would have been the scene had Mother Nature alone been the all-pervading genius of the surroundings.

But, alas! there were other and more horrid sights and sounds, making the night, otherwise so beautiful, most terrible in all its aspects.

On every side could be seen flaming houses; in all directions could be seen the flying forms of screaming women and children, as their fathers, husbands, or lovers, carrying out the fearful compact made among themselves, ruthlessly pursued those nearest and dearest to them to put them to a cruel death.

At hand here and there could be seen, even close to the tents of the royal encampment, shapeless, huddled-up forms lying on the ground. Some of these, lighted up by the rays of the brilliant moon, or glittering in the flickering light of the fires, betokened that they were the bodies of dead warriors; others, from their white, disordered, and oft-times blood-stained raiment, were clearly the corpses of some of the unhappy female victims. Some, indeed, of the prostrate women, as appeared by their writhings and spasmodic struggles, were not even yet dead, but no one took the trouble to put them out of their misery, for the groups of Macedonian guards who were here and there lying about the open space, were evidently all under the influence of numerous libations, and were in a drunken sleep, utterly careless of their surroundings. Meanwhile, while the fires around ever crackled and roared, and the heavy smoke drifted away landward before a faint sea breeze, louder and more discordant sounds disturbed the midnight air.

From an adjacent and brilliantly lighted pavilion there arose, all combined, noisy shouts, uproarious laughter, and the screams of women.

Walking unmolested across the open space which separated her pavilion from that of the king, and carefully avoiding stepping upon any of the corpses as she went, Elissa looked within. The sight that she saw filled her with loathing and disgust. For Philip and his courtiers, lolling round a huge table, covered with gold and silver wine-cups, were making merry of the misery of many beautiful young women, their recent captives, whose tear-stained faces and disordered dress told only too plainly the brutality to which they were exposed.

The king himself was a ring-leader at the horrid game which they were playing with the struggling young women. Holding forcibly a damsel upon each knee, he was, with hilarious laughter, delighting at their unavailing struggles, while some of his sycophants poured by force between their unwilling lips, cup after cup of the rich red wine. Thus were they making drunk, in spite of themselves, the miserable maidens, many of whom had probably never even tasted wine before. Some of the young girls had already thus been reduced to a state of intoxication, and were reeling about the spacious apartment, or lying helplessly, grotesquely weeping, on the floor. The onlooking Macedonian nobles meanwhile shouted with laughter. It was a terrible sight! Not only did it fill her with terror at what might perchance befall herself, but the horror and anger that filled Elissa’s mind drove her to an awful resolve. Seizing a firebrand from a deserted watch-fire, she advanced once more stealthily towards the windward side of the huge tent, intending to burn alive this satyr of a king and all his horrid crew. But, just in time, she remembered that she would have to burn as well all the wretched young women.

Therefore, although she rightly considered that a speedy death would be far better for them than a life under such conditions, she could not find it in her heart to let the poor helpless victims die so painfully. With a groan she threw the firebrand back into the fire, and, invoking all the curses of the gods upon the head of Philip, she retired once more to her tent. Here, trying to shut her ears to the roaring of the fires, the screaming of the dying women and children, the brutal shoutings of the drunken nobles, and the miserable lamentations of the insulted maidens, she once more read through Scipio’s letter.

She made up her mind at once that Scipio was right, that her duty to her country was, whatever it might have been in the past, now undoubtedly to proceed to Rome, and, by espousing Scipio, whose devotion touched her heart deeply, to conclude a peace, if possible, between Rome and Carthage. Two reasons strongly impelled her. One was that the death of her once so deeply-beloved Maharbal had now removed a great barrier; the other, that she believed firmly, with many others, that Scipio was indeed, as he pretended, a man specially favoured by the gods, and that they held personal communings with him, and to her mind these divine inspirations accounted for all his successes. Of one thing, at all events, Elissa was certain, that she wished for no more war. For, if her efforts to embroil Philip in the struggle between Carthage and Rome had only resulted in such terrible scenes as she had been witnessing during the last few days, she felt convinced that such war must be distasteful to the gods themselves. Therefore she determined to use all her endeavours now to bring about a lasting peace, for that was, since the gods themselves had declared it, clearly at this juncture her duty to her country, and to the world at large.

Elissa summoned Cleandra, who was even more terrified than herself at the awful scenes around, and with reason, for upon returning from the tent of Marcus Æmilius only an hour previously, she had had a very narrow escape of her life from some of the citizens of Abydos. They had been upon the point of slaying her by mistake for one of their own women, when fortunately some Macedonians of the royal guard, to whom she was known, had come to her assistance, and had slain her aggressors. But now the guards were all drunk, and the two women knew that if they were to escape they must reach alone the camp of the Roman embassy, which, being on the shore close to the Roman ships, was carefully entrenched and properly guarded by the ambassador’s own escort.

Cleandra, who had, when in the tent of Æmilius, had her wits about her as usual, had not been wasting her time. She knew all about the drift of the contents of Scipio’s letter, and had even heard of the death of Maharbal before Elissa gave her the tidings, but she had preferred to keep her own counsel until her mistress and friend should learn them for herself from the letter.

Not waiting for Elissa to make up her mind to fly, Cleandra had laid her schemes, anticipating Elissa’s consent. She had accordingly arranged with Marcus Æmilius to have all his men ready on board ship, and everything prepared for instant sailing, promising him to return with Hannibal’s daughter, if possible, before dawn.

In the event of her not being able to prevail upon Elissa to fly, Cleandra had begged the gallant young Roman to leave Abydos without her, for she was resolved herself to share Elissa’s fortunes for weal or woe in the future as in the past. Nor could the prayers of Marcus, who was most loath to leave her, that she should herself fly with him, move Cleandra in the least; for, although ever fickle with men, she was faithful beyond the fidelity of women where Hannibal’s daughter was concerned.

Scarcely staying to console Elissa upon the death of Maharbal, which she evidently felt deeply, Cleandra set about collecting all their jewellery and money, and concealing it about her person. As for Elissa, she donned instantly her war-gear, and armed herself with a sheath, darts, and a sword, for in this garb she had no fear of not being able to pass in safety through any such parties of the Macedonian guards as might not be too intoxicated to recognise her.

Bidding Cleandra cover herself with a dark cloak and to follow her, she, after extinguishing the light, stepped forth from her tent, the entrance to which she closed. Then passing in rear of the king’s pavilion, where the noise was not now quite so excessive, they took their way to the Roman entrenchments.

They had passed the royal tent in safety, and, while threading their way with caution, were nearly out of ear-shot of the royal encampment, when suddenly they came, standing outside their own tents, upon two of the most debauched nobles of a debauched court, Alexander, son of Phidias, and Xenacreon, son of Themistocles. Xenacreon had for long ardently pursued Cleandra, and, despite her cloak, he recognised her in a moment. Bounding forward he seized her, exclaiming:

“Aha, my lady Cleandra! whither away thus in disguise like a thief in the night? For sure thou seekest a lover; well, here am I all ready to thy hand, take me!” and he embraced her rudely.

Cleandra did not seek to struggle at first, but only to temporise. She answered civilly, for she did not wish the sound of the discussion to reach the king in his tent.

“I pray thee release me, my good Xenacreon, and I will meet thee some other time. Just now I may not stay; I am engaged on important business with the lady Elissa.”

“With Elissa, the king’s courtesan, now out of favour!” exclaimed Xenacreon loudly. “Well, what is good for one is good for another. I will not, so that I get thee, grudge her to Alexander here, who long hath admired her; so take her, Alexander, I give her unto thee! But come thou with me now, sweet Cleandra, no time is like the present.” And while he sought to drag her within his tent, Alexander sprang forward swiftly and attempted likewise to seize upon Elissa herself.

But she was far too quick for him, and leapt nimbly on one side, discharging, as she did so, a dart which transfixed him through and through. He fell groaning to the ground, writhing in agony.

“Now for thy turn, Xenacreon!” cried Elissa. “Take thou this for thy dastardly insult to ‘the king’s courtesan, now out of favour.’ ”

And she plunged her sword deep into his body below the upraised arms with which he held Cleandra. Snatching Cleandra from his grasp before there was time even for her to be stained with his blood, Elissa started running, dragging Cleandra after her, for she perceived that the king himself had rushed out of his tent, followed by such of his officers as could stand.

But, although raising hoarse, drunken cries, they ran in the direction of the women, they could not see them, or, indeed, their own way, for on coming out into the darkness from the brilliant light they were blinded, and caught their feet in the numerous tent ropes, and fell sprawling in all directions. Some of them even got so far as the prostrate bodies of Alexander and Xenacreon, over whose still breathing forms they fell heavily, while cursing loudly. But Cleandra and Elissa easily escaped, and soon reached the Roman entrenchments in safety, where Marcus Æmilius was waiting in person to receive them.

Welcoming them heartily, he quickly took them off to his ship. Then withdrawing his guard, but leaving his camp standing so as to deceive the Macedonians in the early morning, he set sail at once with his three vessels, and soon they felt the cool breezes of the Ægean Sea blowing in their faces. Long before dawn they were well out of sight of land, and steering a course for Tarentum on the Iapygian promontory.

END OF PART V.