As they drew near it the Africans abandoned the shelter of the mantelets and hurled themselves furiously against the barrier of enormous stones. Naked, black, shouting, raising and lowering their muscular arms which ended in glittering iron-pointed pickaxes, they looked like infernal spirits sent by the Cabiric gods of Carthage for the destruction of the city. Stubborn and tenacious in their work of destruction, they growled and picked, insensible to the blows which fell from above.
The beleaguered people, infuriated by this audacity, scorned the Balearic slingers and archers who from a distance aimed over the merlons, and stepping into the crenels they cast down missiles and stones which, falling vertically, never failed to claim their victims. The Africans tumbled over with broken heads or crushed backs; arms and legs snapped like reeds beneath the weight of the stones, and more than one assailant was pinned to the ground by a dart which passed through his back. Over the palpitating bodies, the mangled flesh, the blood mixed with the clay from the walls, rushed fresh assailants, grasping the pickaxes from the hands of the dying, and taking up the work of destruction, pounding on the wall, beating it furiously as if it were an enemy standing before them. Africans, Celtiberians, Gauls, men of all colors and races crowded together, each cursing in his own language, frothing at the mouth with fury, with death hovering above them every instant, and surrounded by a din of howls and lamentations. Tormented by falling stones and blazing phalarics which set fire to their clothing and clung to their naked flesh, roasting them until they writhed in agony, they rushed to the river like animated torches.
Now a block in the wall was giving way! Now it rolled out of place! The most important thing was to remove the first; after it the others would follow. The besiegers burst into exclamations of savage joy; they heard Hannibal's voice encouraging them; but before raising their heads to rest a moment, a deafening howl arose among them. It was raining, but raining fiery, infernal drops which penetrated the bodies of the men like interminable knives. Up there on the walls a fire was smoking. The merchants were melting the great ingots of silver from their vaults, pouring the molten metal like a rain of death upon those who dared destroy the city walls.
The assailants fell back, roaring with fury, and sought refuge behind the mantelets. Hannibal raised his sword, striving with his blows to force them back to work, but in vain he exhorted them, haranguing of victory and of the necessity of destroying the wall; his soldiers retreated without turning their backs, looking with respect at the chieftain who seemed invulnerable, but complaining of the atrocious torment of the burns. Some wallowed on the ground kicking with pain, their lips covered with foam.
Suddenly it seemed as if the city had burst, hurling its inhabitants forth in all directions. In the distance the Celtiberians were seen to flee, flinging away their ladders. The populace rushed out en masse against the besiegers. The gates were too narrow to allow passage to the armed multitude which swirled through them and then spread out in all directions like a torrent which, having run boxed in between mountains, suddenly inundates the plain. Many impatient ones swung from the merlons to fall more quickly upon the enemy.
In a moment the whole space intervening between the walls and the camp was covered by attacking Saguntines and by fleeing besiegers. Hannibal felt himself dragged by the flight of his soldiers. The mantelets began to burn, and a crowd of women and boys, grasping torches, encircled the walking-towers, setting fire to their osier walls.
The Saguntines, forming in phalanxes, advanced, sweeping before them the besiegers who fled in disorder. Before its movable front of pikes and of arms flourishing broadswords, nothing could be seen but fugitive men who flung away their arms and leaped into the air pierced by arrows and lances.
The giant Theron came out in solitary majesty, as if he alone were a phalanx. The lion skin, and his enormous stature, attracted the gaze of all. His club rose and fell, crashing into the groups of fugitives and opening great swaths through their ranks.
"It is Hercules!" the besiegers shouted, with superstitious terror. "The god of Saguntum has come out against us!"
The presence of the giant accelerated the dispersion even more than the blows of the Saguntines.