Spendius rejoined in a gloomy voice: “Yes, conquered!”
And to all questions he replied by gestures of despair.
Meanwhile sighs and death-rattles reached them. Matho partially opened the canvas. Then the sight of the soldiers reminded him of another disaster on the same spot, and he ground his teeth: “Wretch! once already—”
Spendius interrupted him: “You were not there either.”
“It is a curse!” exclaimed Matho. “Nevertheless, in the end I will get at him! I will conquer him! I will slay him! Ah! if I had been there!—” The thought of having missed the battle rendered him even more desperate than the defeat. He snatched up his sword and threw it upon the ground. “But how did the Carthaginians beat you?”
The former slave began to describe the manouvres. Matho seemed to see them, and he grew angry. The army from Utica ought to have taken Hamilcar in the rear instead of hastening to the bridge.
“Ah! I know!” said Spendius.
“You ought to have made your ranks twice as deep, avoided exposing the velites against the phalanx, and given free passage to the elephants. Everything might have been recovered at the last moment; there was no necessity to fly.”
Spendius replied:
“I saw him pass along in his large red cloak, with uplifted arms and higher than the dust, like an eagle flying upon the flank of the cohorts; and at every nod they closed up or darted forward; the throng carried us towards each other; he looked at me, and I felt the cold steel as it were in my heart.”