The city of merchants and farmers which he had studied from within, looking scornfully upon its opulence and effeminacy, threatened to break the current of his good luck, and, finding it indomitable, and reflecting upon his enemies in Carthage, upon the wrath of Rome, and realizing that time was passing while he was making no headway, the chieftain experienced a gust of anxiety.
He had chosen well the vulnerable point of Saguntum. His engines of war were placed before the lower part of the city where the walls projected into the valley, upon an open, level plain, which permitted the advance of the battering-rams; but scarcely had the hundreds of naked men who dragged the heavy machines come within range than such a shower of arrows fell about them that those who were not pinned to the ground had to flee for their lives.
Sometimes, under cover of the mantelets, which advanced on wheels, and through the loopholes of which the Carthaginian bowmen shot, they managed to get the battering-rams to the foot of the wall, but while that part of the city was the most exposed to attack, the ramparts which in the upper portion of Saguntum were of adobe had here a stony rock base, and in vain the bronze rams'-heads which formed the ends of the beams, pounded and pounded, operated by hundreds of arms. Showers of arrows and stones fell upon the besiegers, breaking the shields which covered them. A great tower dominated the whole area around the assailants, sowing death among them without exposure to the besieged, and not content with this, under the impulse of their passion, they frequently sprang forth from behind the ramparts, knifing the Carthaginians.
Each of these sallies cost Hannibal's army severe losses. The Africans had begun to tell with superstitious dread of a naked giant, wearing a lion's skin, and brandishing a tree-trunk, who charged at the head of the Saguntines, and at each blow ploughed a broad furrow through the assailants. The Ethiopians saw in him a terrible and sanguinary divinity, like those which they worshipped in their oases; the Celtiberians declared that it was Hercules, descended from Olympus to protect the city.
Hannibal recognized him in the battles from afar. It was Theron, the priest whom he had seen one morning on the Acropolis, and whose extraordinary vigor he had admired. But in spite of knowing his human origin, he could not overcome the terror of the troops at the instant when they saw towering above all the helmets that invulnerable lion's head which seemed to change the course of the arrows and stones.
Moreover the besieged counted on the assistance of the phalaric. It was well known that among the merchants and agriculturists there figured men expert in war, who had traveled through many lands. The memory of his boyhood companion, Actæon, the Greek adventurer, surged through Hannibal's mind. He, surely, must be the introducer of the phalaric, a dart wrapped in tow and dipped in pitch. The shaft sped blazing through the air like a stream of fire, with its long iron head capable of piercing the shield and the cuirass, and even if the terrible missile should not penetrate the armor, its flames set fire to the clothing; the combatants threw down their arms to put out the fire, and thus stood exposed to the blows of the enemy. The same warriors who had fought against the most determined and barbaric tribes of Iberia, flung away their shields and fled before those meteors of fire which came from the walls of Saguntum whistling and scattering sparks.
Thus time passed; the besiegers gained nothing, and Hannibal was dominated by a galling impatience. Fire of Baal! He, chained to these walls which he could not make his own, while Hanno's faction was conspiring in Carthage, preparing the downfall of the Barcas if he should fail in taking Saguntum; planning, perhaps, his delivery to Rome when she should demand him on finding her treaties violated. In despair he threw himself back once more upon his couch, seeking the oblivion of sleep with the eagerness of one who must needs forget. He blew out the light, but lay open-eyed in the darkness. The bluish glint of the moon filtered through an opening in the cupola of his tent, shimmering upon the cuirasses which in the darkness shone like phosphorescent fishes. Outside, the nightingale continued singing.
Hannibal grew frantic. Accursed bird that was keeping him awake! He could sleep in the din of battle! Accustomed from boyhood to the camp, the hoarse songs of the mercenaries and the whinnying of horses would fail to arouse him, and the harsh trumpet-blast of war had been his lullaby. But the sweet song of that bird, its incessant melodious trill, annoyed him like the buzzing of a hornet.
He sprang from his couch; he groped in the dark amid the litter of arms, fabrics, and furniture; he burst out through the doorway of his tent, and the fresh night soothed his tempestuous spirit.
The moon was shining in a cloudless sky; the breeze was warm, although it was the end of autumn; stars scintillated; the nightingale's trills were answered by another and yet another bird, throughout the expanse of the valley. The camp lay at rest. The flames were flickering out from dying bonfires near which soldiers were sleeping along with women and children of the army, wrapped in rags and in rich stolen fabrics; the horses picketed to the ground, pointed their nodding heads in a straight line; in the distance, the beleaguered city crouched dark and silent as if asleep, but a faint glow escaping through loopholes in its walls produced the effect of half-open eyes watching while feigning sleep.