“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.