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.