CHAPTER I.

Hannibal’s Daughter

BY

LIEUT. COL. ANDREW HAGGARD, D.S.O.

_Author of

“Tempest Torn,” “Under Crescent and Star,” etc., etc._

LONDON

HUTCHINSON & CO.

PATERNOSTER ROW

1898

Dedication.

_TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS LOUISE,

MARCHIONESS OF LORNE._

_Madam,_

_Surely never, in the history of the world, have events more romantic

been known than the career of Hannibal and of his eventual conqueror,

the youthful Scipio. Therefore, under the title of “Hannibal’s

Daughter,” it has been my humble effort to present to the world in

romantic guise such a story as may impress itself upon the minds of

many who would never seek it for themselves in the classic tomes of

history._

_Having been commenced on the actual site of Ancient Carthage, the

local colouring of the opening chapters may be, with the aid of

history, relied upon as being correct. Throughout the whole work,

moreover, the thread of the story has been interwoven with a network

of those wonderful feats that are so graphically recorded for us in

the pages of Polybius and Livy._

_To Your Royal Highness, with the greatest respect, I have the honour

to dedicate my work. Should there appear to be aught of art in the

manner in which I have attempted to weave a combination of history and

romance, may I venture to hope that a true artist like Your Royal

Highness, of whose works the nation is justly proud, may not deem the

results of my efforts unworthy._

_I have the honour to be,

Madam,

Your most obedient servant,

ANDREW C. P. HAGGARD._

_Alford Bridge, Aberdeenshire, May, 1898._

CONTENTS

PART I.

I. HAMILCAR

II. CARTHAGE

III. HANNIBAL’S VOW

PART II.

I. ELISSA

II. MAHARBAL

III. FOREWARNED

IV. FOUR CARTHAGINIAN NOBLES

V. PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS

VI. CLEANDRA’S CUNNING

VII. MELANIA’S MISERY

VIII. LOVE FULFILLED

IX. A LAUGH AND A LIFE

PART III.

I. SOSILUS AND CHŒRAS

II. A GIGANTIC SCHEME

III. HANNIBAL’S DREAM

IV. FIRST BLOOD

V. AT THE FOOT OF THE ALPS

VI. OVER THE ALPS

VII. HANNIBAL’S FIRST TRIUMPH

VIII. EUGENIA

IX. THRASYMENE

X. FRIENDS MUST PART

XI. ELISSA AS A WARRIOR

XII. SOPHONISBA AND SCIPIO

XIII. ON THE BRINK

XIV. CANNÆ

PART IV.

I. AFTER THE BATTLE

II. WIFE OR MISTRESS

III. FIGHTING WITH FATE

IV. THE FRUITS OF FOLLY

V. MARS VICTORIOUS

VI. CŒCILIA’S DEGRADATION

VII. A RENUNCIATION

PART V.

I. TO SYRACUSE

II. FROM SYRACUSE TO MACEDON

III. A SACRIFICE

IV. A LETTER FROM SCIPIO

V. A SCENE OF HORROR

PART VI.

I. A SPELL OF PEACE

II. ELISSA WRITES TO SCIPIO

III. A TERRIBLE SEA FIGHT

IV. ELISSA’S MISERY

V. HIS LEGAL WIFE

VI. A MOMENTOUS MEETING

VII. ZAMA

VIII. CONCLUSION

HANNIBAL’S DAUGHTER.

PART I.

CHAPTER I.

HAMILCAR.

On a point of land on the Tœnia, a hundred paces or so to the south

of the canal connecting the sea with the Cothon or double harbour of

Carthage, stood a palatial residence. Upon the balcony, which ran

completely round the house on the first storey, stood a man gazing

steadily across the gulf towards the north-east, past the end of the

Hermæan Promontory, to the left, of which the distant Island of

Zembra alone relieved the monotony of the horizon. His face was grave,

and his short hair and beard were slightly grey, but he was evidently

a man from whom the fire of youth had not yet departed. His eye was

the eye of one born to command; his straight-cut, sun-burned features

told the tale of many campaigns. Near him, on a stool covered with a

leopard skin, was carelessly thrown a steel helmet richly incrusted

with gold, and with the crest and the crown deeply indented, as if

from recent hard usage. The golden crest was in one place completely

divided by a sword cut, the brighter colour of the gold within the

division plainly showing that the blow had been but lately delivered.

On the floor of the balcony, at the foot of the stool, lay a long

straight sword. Although the hilt was of ivory, and the scabbard of

silver inlaid with gems, the blood-stains on the former and the

absence of many of the gems from their sockets, told that this was no

fair-weather weapon for state occasions, but a lethal blade which had

been borne by its owner in the brunt of many a combat. Only, the

armour which the warrior wore--consisting as it did merely of a bright

steel breast-piece, upon the breast of which was emblazoned in gold a

gorgeous representation of the sun, the emblem of the great god Baal

or Moloch, and the back of which was similarly inlaid with the

two-horned moon, the attribute of the glorious Astarte, Queen of

Heaven, and further studded with golden stars, the emblems of all the

other and lesser divinities--seemed on first appearance as if more

intended for the court than the camp. A closer examination, however,

revealed the fact that this also was no mere holiday armour, for it,

too, bore severe marks of ill-usage. The warrior’s arms were bare from

the elbow downwards, save for a couple of circlets of gold upon each

wrist, which from their width seemed more intended for defence than

ornament. Beneath the armour he wore a bright toga of pure white

cloth, the lower part falling in a kilted skirt below the knee, being

adorned with a narrow band of Tyrian purple. Upon his feet he wore

cothurns or sandals strongly attached with leather thongs, the thongs

being protected with bright chain mail. Some steel pieces for the

protection of the thigh and knee were lying close at hand.

Such was the attire of the great General Hamilcar Barca, as with an

ever-deepening frown upon his anxious brow, he gazed sternly and

steadily in deepest reverie across the sea.

At length his reverie seemed to be broken.

“Why gaze thus towards Sicily,” he muttered; “why dream of vengeance

upon the hated Romans, who now occupy from end to end of that fair

isle, where, for many years, by the grace of Melcareth, the invisible

and omnipotent god, I was able with my small army of mercenaries to

deal them so many terrible and crushing blows?

“Have they not almost as much cause to hate and to dread me, who did

so much to lower their pride and wipe out the memory of their former

victories? Did I not brave them for years from Mount Ercte, descending

daily like a wolf from the mountain crest, to ravage the country in

front of their very faces in strongly-fortified Panormus, from the

shelter of whose walls, for very fear of my name, they scarcely dared

to stir, so sure were they that their armies would be cut to pieces by

Hamilcar Barca?

“Did I not firmly establish myself in Mount Eryx, half-way up its

slope in the city on the hill, and there for two years, despite a huge

Roman army at the bottom, and their Gallic allies holding the

fortified temple at the top, snap my fingers at them, ay, laugh them

to scorn and destroy them by the thousand? For all that time, was not

their gold utterly unable to buy the treachery of my followers--were

not their arms utterly futile against my person? Did they not indeed

find to their cost that I was indeed the Hamilcar my name

betokens--him whom the mighty Melcareth protects?”

Proudly glancing across the sea with a scornful laugh, he continued:

“Oh, ye Romans! well know ye that had not mine own countrymen left me

for four long years without men, money, or provisions, Sicily had even

now been mine. Oh, Prætor Valerius! what was thy much boasted victory

of the Œgatian Islands over the Admiral Hanno but the conquest of a

mere convoy of ill-armed cargo vessels, whom mine economical

countrymen were too parsimonious to send to my relief under proper

escort. Where was then thy glory, Valerius? And thou, too, Lutatius

Catulus? how did I receive thy arrogant proposals that my troops

should march out of Eryx under the yoke? I, a Hamilcar Barca, march

out under the yoke!” The General’s swarthy cheek reddened at the

thought. “Did not I but laugh in thy beard and lay my hand upon this

sword--which I now lift up and kiss before heaven,” he raised and

kissed the blood-stained hilt. “Did not I, even as I do now, but

simply bare the well-known blade,” here he drew it from its sheath,

“and thou didst fall and tremble before me, and in thine anxiety to

rid Sicily of me didst willingly take back thine insult and offer to

Hamilcar and all his troops the full and free liberty to march out

with all the honours of war? Ah!” he continued, stretching forth his

sword menacingly across the sea, “for all that it hath been mine own

countrymen who were the main cause of my downfall, I yet owe thee a

vengeance, Rome, a vengeance not for mine own but for my country’s

sake, and, with the help of the gods, in days not long to come, those

of my blood shall redden the plains and mountains of Europe with the

terrible vengeance of the Barcine sword.”

The General returned his sword to its sheath with an angry clang, then

striding across the wide balcony to where it overlooked a beautiful

garden on the other side of the house, he shouted loudly:

“Hannibal, Hannibal!”

There was no reply, but down beneath the shelter of the fig trees

Hamilcar could plainly perceive three little boys engaged in a very

rough game of mimic warfare. They were all three armed with wooden

swords and small shields of metal. One of them was up in a fig tree

and striking downwards at the head of one who stood upon the crown of

a wall; while the third boy, who stood below the wall, was striking

upwards at his legs. The din of the resounding blows falling upon the

shields was so great that the boy at first did not hear.

“Hannibal, come hither at once,” cried out his father again in louder

tones.

Looking up and seeing his father, the boy on the wall threw down his

shield, a movement which was instantly taken advantage of by each of

the two other boys to get a blow well home. He did not, however, pause

to retaliate, but crying out, “That will I revenge later,” threw down

his sword also and rushed into the house and up to the balcony, for

even at his early age the boy had been taught discipline and instant

obedience, and he knew better than to delay. He appeared before his

father all out of breath and with torn clothing. Notwithstanding that

his forehead was bleeding from the result of the last cut which had

been delivered by the boy in the tree, he did not attempt to wipe the

wound, but with cast-down eyes and hands crossed over his breast,

silently awaited his father’s commands.

“What wast thou doing in the garden, Hannibal?”

“Waiting until Chronos the slave could take me up to see the burnt

sacrifice to Baal of the mercenaries whom thou hast conquered,” he

answered--then added excitedly, “Matho, who murdered Gisco and his six

hundred after mutilating them first, is to be tortured, thou knowest,

oh, my father, Chronos told me so, and I am going to see it done.”

Hamilcar frowned.

“Nay, it is not my will that thou shalt go to see Matho tortured and

burnt; now, what else wast thou doing down there?”

The boy’s face fell; he did not like to be deprived of the pleasure of

seeing Matho tortured first and burned afterwards, for, boy as he was,

he knew that if ever man in this world deserved the torture, that man

was this last surviving chief of his father’s revolted mercenaries.

But he made no protest at the deprivation of his expected morning’s

amusement, answering his father simply.

“I was playing with my brothers Hasdrubal and Mago at thine occupation

of the City on Mount Eryx, oh! my father. Mago was up in the tree and

represented the Gauls who had deserted and joined the Romans.

Hasdrubal was down below and took the place of the Roman Army.”

“And thou wast in thy father’s place between the two, and like thy

father himself, hast been wounded,” replied Hamilcar, smiling grimly.

“Come, wipe thy face, lad, and tell me why didst not thou, being the

strongest, take the part of the Romans at the bottom of the hill?”

Fiercely the youth raised his head, and, looking his father straight

in the face, replied:

“For two reasons, my father. First, I am much stronger than Hasdrubal,

and the war would have been too soon over; secondly, I hate the

Romans, and for nothing in the world would I represent them even in

play.”

“Ah! thou hatest the Romans! And wilt thou then fight them one day in

earnest and avenge the torrents of Carthaginian blood they have caused

to flow, the hundreds of Carthaginian cities whose inhabitants they

have put to the sword; avenge, too, our defeat and loss of forty-one

elephants before Heraclea; the sacking of Agrigentum and enslavement

of 25,000 of its citizens; the terrible loss of three hundred warships

at Ecnomos; the invasion of Carthaginia by Regulus; his sacking and

burning of all the fair domain between here and Clypea, across yonder

Hermæan Promontory; the capture by Cœcilius Metellus before Panormus

of 120 elephants from Hasdrubal, all of them slaughtered in cold blood

as a spectacle for the Roman citizens in the Roman circus; the fight

at--”

“Stop, father, stop!” cried the young Hannibal, stamping his foot. “I

can bear no more. By thy sword here, which I can even now draw--see I

do so--I swear to fight and avenge all these disasters. By the favour

of the great god Baal, whose name I bear, I will wage war against them

all my life as soon as ever I am old enough to carry arms.”

“Good,” said his father, “thou art a worthy son of Hamilcar, and this

very day shalt thou swear, not in the bloody temple of Moloch, but in

the sacred fane of Melcareth, the god of the city, the god of thy

forefathers in Tyre, and the god of the divine Dido, the foundress of

Carthage, that never wilt thou relax the hatred to the Romans thou

hast even now sworn by thy father’s sword. Never shalt thou, whilst

life lasts thee, cease to fight for thy native city, thy native

country. Look forth, my lad, upon all thou canst see now, and say, is

it not a fair domain? Let all that lies before thine eyes now sink

down deep into the innermost recesses of thy memory, for soon I shall

take thee hence; but I would not have thee, when far away, forget the

sacred city for whose very existence thou and I must fight. When thou

hast gazed thy fill upon all that lies before us, thou must perform

thine ablutions, arrange thy disordered dress, and then thou shalt

accompany me, not to see the sacrifice of the mercenaries in the pit

of fire before the brazen image of Moloch, but to make thy vow in the

temple of the invisible and all-pervading mighty essence of godhead,

the eternal Melcareth.”

CHAPTER II.

CARTHAGE.

The terrible war, known as the inexpiable or the truceless war, was

just at an end, after three years’ duration. The mercenaries who had

served so faithfully under Hamilcar in Sicily had by the bad faith of

the Carthaginian Government, headed by Hamilcar’s greatest enemy,

Hanno, been driven to a revolt to try and recover the arrears of pay

due to them for noble services for years past. When the effete Hanno,

after a first slight success, had allowed his camp to be captured, the

Government, at the last gasp, had begged Hamilcar to fight against his

own old soldiers. For the sheer love of his country, he had, although

much against the grain, consented to do so. But the towns of Utica,

the oldest Phœnician town in Africa, and of Hippo Zarytus were

joining in the revolt; the Libyans and Numidians had risen _en masse_

to join the revolutionists, and the Libyan women, having sold all

their jewellery, of which they possessed large quantities, for the

sake of the revolted mercenaries, there was soon so much money in the

rebel camp that the very existence of Carthage itself was at stake.

Therefore, although Hamilcar well knew that all the mercenaries,

whether Libyans or Ligurians, Balearic Islanders, Greeks, or

Spaniards, were personally well disposed to himself, he had been

forced to take up arms against them.

Under Spendius, a Campanian slave, and Matho, an African in whom they

had formerly placed great trust, the rebels had gained various

successes, and, on visiting them in their camp, had treacherously made

prisoner of Gisco, a general in whom they had previously expressed the

greatest trust, and whom they had asked to have sent to them with

money to arrange their difficulties. Hamilcar had been at first much

hampered by his enemy, Hanno, an effeminate wretch, being associated

in the command with himself; but when the Carthaginians found that, by

leaving Hanno to hamper Hamilcar, with all these well-trained soldiers

against them, they had got the knife held very close to their own

luxurious throats, they removed Hanno, and left the patriotic Hamilcar

in supreme military command. Their jealousies of him would not have

allowed the aristocracy and plutocracy to have done so much for the

man whom they had deserted for so long in Sicily had they not known

their own very existence to be at stake. For they ran the risk of

being killed both by the Libyans and mercenaries outside, and by the

discontented people inside the walls.

When Hamilcar assumed supreme command, the war had very soon commenced

to go the other way. He forced the easy, luxurious Carthaginian nobles

to become soldiers, and treated them as roughly as if they had been

slaves. And he made them fight. He got elephants together; he made

wonderful marches, dividing the various rebel camps; he penned them up

within their own fortified lines. Many deserted and joined him; many

prisoners whom he took he released; a great African chief named

Naravas came over to his side. All was going well for Carthage when

Spendius and Matho mutilated and murdered the wretched General Gisco

and his six hundred followers in cold blood. After that no more of

their followers dared to leave them for fear of the terrible

retaliation that they knew awaited them. But how Spendius and all his

camp were at length penned up and reduced to cannibalism, eating all

their prisoners and slaves, how Spendius and his ten senators were

taken and crucified, while Matho, at the same time issuing from Tunis,

took and crucified a Carthaginian general and fifty of his men, and

how at length, after slaughtering or capturing the 30,000 or 40,000

remaining rebels, Hamilcar took Matho himself prisoner, are all

matters of history.

On the morning of the opening of our story, there was to be a terrible

sacrifice offered up to the great Baal Hammon, the sun god Moloch, the

Saturn of the Romans: the terrible monster to whom in their hours of

distress the Carthaginians were in the habit of offering up at times

their own babies, their first-born sons, or the fairest of their

virgins, whose cruel nuptials consisted not in being lighted with the

torch of Hymen, but in being placed bound upon the outstretched,

brazen, red-hot hands of the huge image, from whose arms, which sloped

downwards, they rolled down into the flaming furnace at his feet. And

fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, yea, even the very lovers

of the girls, looked on complacently, thinking that in thus

sacrificing their dearest and their best to the cruel god, they were

consulting the best interests of their country in a time of danger.

Nor were the screams of the victims, many of whom were self-offered,

allowed to be heard, for the drums beat, the priests chanted, and the

beautiful young priestesses attached to the temple danced in circles

around, joining the sound of their voices and their musical

instruments to the crackling of the fire and the rolling of the drums.

When Hamilcar bid his boy, Hannibal, look forth upon the city before

him, on the sea in front and behind him, and upon the country around,

it was a lovely morning in early summer. The weather was not yet hot;

there was a beautiful north-west breeze blowing down the Carthaginian

Gulf straight into the boy’s face, tossing up little white horses on

the surface of the sea, of which the white-flecked foam shone like

silver on its brilliantly green surface. Across the gulf, upon whose

bosom floated many a stately trireme and quinquireme, to the east side

arose a bold range of rugged mountains with steep, serrated edges.

Turning round yet further and facing the south, the young Hannibal

could see the same mountain range, dominated by a steep, two-horned

peak, sweeping round, but gradually bearing back and so away from the

shores of the shallow salt water lake then known as the Stagnum, now

called the Lake of Tunis. This lake was separated, by the narrow strip

of land called the Tœnia, from the Sirius Carthaginensis, or Gulf of

Carthage, upon the extremity of which is now built the town of

Goletta. There was in those days, as now, a canal dividing this

isthmus in two, and thus giving access for ships to Tunis, a distance

of ten miles from Carthage, at the far end of the Tunisian lake.

Turning back again and looking to the north and north-west, Hannibal

saw stretching before him the whole noble City of Carthage, of which

his father’s palace formed one of the most southern buildings within

the sea wall. Close at hand were various other palaces, with gardens

well irrigated and producing every kind of delicious fruit and

beautiful flower to delight the palate or the eye. Here waved in the

breeze the feathery date palm, the oleander with its wealth of pink

blossom, the dark-green and shining pomegranate tree with its glorious

crimson flowers. Further, the fig, the peach tree, the orange, the

lemon, and the narrow-leaved pepper tree gave umbrageous shelter to

the winding garden walks. Over the cunningly-devised summer-houses

hung great clusters of blue convolvulus or the purple bourgainvillia,

while along the borders of plots of vines gleaming with brilliant

verdure, clustered, waist-high, crimson geraniums and roses in the

richest profusion. Between these palaces lay stretched out the double

harbour for the merchant ships and war ships, a canal forming the

entrance to the one, and both being connected with each other. The

harbour for the merchant ships was oblong in shape, and was within a

stone’s throw of the balcony upon which the boy was standing. The

inner harbour was perfectly circular, and surrounded by a

fortification; and around its circumference were one hundred and

twenty sets of docks, the gates of each of which were adorned with

beautiful Ionic pillars of purest marble.

In the centre of this cup, or cothon as it was called, there was an

island, upon which was reared a stately marble residence for the

admiral in charge of the dockyards, and numerous workshops for the

shipwrights. All were designed and built with a view to beauty as well

as utility.

For that day only, the clang of hammers had ceased to be heard, and

all was still in the dockyards, for there was high holiday and

festival throughout the whole length and breadth of the City of

Carthage on the glad occasion of the intended execution, by fire, of

Matho and the remaining rebels who had not fallen by the sword in the

last fight at Tunis.

Just beyond the war harbour, there was a large open place called the

Agora, and a little beyond and to the left of it Hannibal could descry

the Forum placed on a slight elevation. It was a noble building,

surrounded by a stately colonnade of pillars, the capitals of which

were ornamented in the strictly Carthaginian style, which seemed to

combine the acanthus plant decoration of the Corinthian capital, with

the ram’s horn curves of the Ionic style. Between the pillars there

stood the most beautiful works of art, statues of Parian marble

ravished in the Sicilian wars, or gilded figures of cunning

workmanship of Apollo, Neptune, or the Goddess Artemis, being the

spoils of Macedon or imported from Tyre. The roof of the Forum was

constructed of beautiful cedar beams from Lebanon, sent as a present

by the rulers of Tyre to their daughter city, and no pains or expense

had been spared to make the noble building, if not equal in grandeur,

at any rate only second in its glorious manufacture to the magnificent

temple of Solomon, itself constructed for the great king by Tyrian and

Sidonian workmen.

A couple of miles away to the left could be seen the enormous triple

fortification stretching across the level isthmus which connected

Carthage, its heights and promontories, with the mainland. This wall

enclosed the Megara or suburbs, rich with the country houses of the

wealthy merchant princes. It was forty-five feet high, and its vaulted

foundations afforded stabling for a vast number of elephants. It

reached from sea to sea, and completely protected Carthage on the land

side. Between the city proper and this wall beyond the Megara,

everywhere could be seen groves of olive trees in richest profusion,

while between them and the frequent intervening palaces, were to be

observed either waving fields of ripening golden corn, or carefully

cultivated vegetable gardens, well supplied with running streams of

water from the great aqueduct which brought the water to the city from

the mountains of Zaghouan sixty miles away.

To the north of the Forum and beyond the Great Place, the city

stretched upwards, the width of the city proper, between the sea and

the suburbs, being only about a mile or a mile and a half. It sloped

upwards to the summit of the hill of the Byrsa or Citadel, hence the

boy Hannibal, from his position on the sea level in rear of the

harbours, was able to take in, not only the whole magnificent _coup

d’œil_ of palaces and temples, but also that of the high and

precipitous hill forming Cape Carthage, which lay beyond it to the

north, whose curved and precipitous cliffs enclosed on the eastern

side a glittering bay, wherein were anchored many vessels of

merchandise.

The summit of this mountain was, like the suburbs of the Megara to the

west of the city, studded with the rich country dwellings of the

luxurious and ease-loving inhabitants of Carthage.

But it was not on the distant suburbs that the lad fixed his eager

gaze, it was on the gleaming city of palaces itself. Here, close at

hand on the right, he could see the temple of Apollo with its great

golden image of the god, gleaming between the open columns in the

morning sun. Further away appeared the mighty and fortified buildings

of the temple of Ashmon or Æsculapius. To the left of the city the

fanes of Neptune, Diana, and Astarte glittered in the sun, while

occupying the absolute centre of the town, and standing apart in a

large and now crowded open space, was clearly visible the huge

circular temple of the awful Sun god--Saturn, Baal Hammon, or Moloch.

The drums and trumpets loudly sounding from the vicinity of this

temple, and the wreaths of smoke winding up between the triple domes

plated with solid gold, told that the terrible sacrifices had already

begun. Indeed, the yells of execration of the myriads of

brightly-robed populace, most of them women, as victim after victim

was dragged forward by the priests and thrown upon the dreadful

sloping arms of the god, a sight Hannibal could easily observe between

the rows of columns, often nearly drowned the blare of the trumpets

and the rolling of the drums.

Well, indeed, might they scream, these women of Carthage, for owing to

the cruelties and massacres of those upon whom they were now wreaking

their vengeance, all who had been their husbands or lovers were gone.

There were now scarcely any men left. Thus they saw themselves

condemned either to a perpetual virginity, with no hopes of ever

knowing the joys of motherhood, or fated at the best to a share with

many other women in the household of some rich and elderly noble,

since polygamy had been recently decreed as a means of repopulating

the State. All the young men remaining alive, Hamilcar had enrolled in

his army, and although a few of the more luxurious and ease-loving

might leave him and remain in Carthage, that army was, so rumour said,

about to start with him and the flower of Carthaginian manhood for

unknown battle-fields, whence it was improbable that they would ever

return. Thus, the older women screamed and yelled with fury at the

loss of husbands or sons, and the young women screamed with rage at

the loss of the once possible husbands, who never had been and never

could be theirs. Yet, all alike, having put off their mourning for the

day, were gaily attired for joy at the burning alive of their enemies.

They had even adorned their raven locks with the brilliant crimson

flowers of the pomegranate, as red as their own red lips, or the blood

which had been shed in torrents by Spendius and Matho, and which was

again to flow that very day on this joyful occasion of revenge.

Leading from the harbours and the Great Place up through the town to

all these temples were three streets--the Vicus Salutaris, on the

right, leading to the temple of Æsculapius; the Vicus Satyrnis, in

the centre, leading to the great brazen god Moloch; and to the left,

the Vicus Venerea or Venus Street, leading to the temple of the

Carthaginian Venus and Juno in one; Tanais, Tanith, or Astarte, the

Goddess of Love and the Queen of Heaven combined. These last two

streets swept round on either side of the hill of the Byrsa or

Citadel, and it was on this hill that the eye of the youthful Hannibal

chiefly rested, for within and above its walls he could see on the

summit of the hill the temple of Melcareth, the unknown and invisible

god of whom no image had ever been made. Melcareth was the great

Spirit of life and the protector of his father, before whom he was to

register his vow.

Plainly built of white marble, in simple but solemn simplicity, it was

surrounded with plain Doric columns of Numidian marble. This very

plainness made the exterior of the building more impressive; and as it

occupied the highest point in the whole city, the boy could see it

clearly.

At length, with a sigh, he took one last lingering look all round,

from the mountains of the Hermæan Promontory to the Gulf, from the

Gulf to Cape Carthage, and to the city from the hill of the Catacombs,

round and past the triple wall enclosing the Megara, away to the white

buildings of Tunis in the distance, and to the lake near at hand.

“I have seen it all, my father,” he said at length; “not a headland

nor a house, not a tree nor a temple, will ever fade away again from

my memory. It is all engraven on my heart.”

“It is well,” said Hamilcar; “now go and prepare thyself to accompany

me to the temple of Melcareth; thou shalt accompany me upon my

elephant, for I shall go in state. Here, Maharbal! Imlico! Hanno!

Gisco!”

A crowd of officers rushed in from the ante-chambers, where they were

waiting; the great General gave directions about the ceremony that was

to take place, and orderlies and messengers were soon galloping in

every direction.

CHAPTER III.

HANNIBAL’S VOW.

An hour later, a gorgeous procession started from the General’s

palace; for on this occasion Hamilcar, well knowing the hatred and

jealousy with which he was regarded by the other Suffete or Chief

Magistrate, Hanno, and, indeed, by more than half of the Council of

one hundred senators, the real holders of power in ordinary times, had

determined for once to assert the power which, in view of his recent

victories, he knew that he, and he alone, held in the city. Being a

great general, and just now, moreover, a victorious general, he

determined that, since fortune and his own ability had for the moment

placed him at the top of the tree, no sign of weakness on his own part

should give to his enemies in the State the opportunity of pulling him

down again from his pedestal. He had an object in view, and until he

had obtained that object and left Carthage with almost regal powers

over the army that he had got together, he was fully determined to

maintain his own potent position by all the force at his command.

It was a whole army with which he set forth to pay his homage to the

god Melcareth on that eventful June morning.

On the Great Place, just beyond the Forum, and about half a mile away,

were massed, in two lines, forty war elephants fully accoutred with

breastplates formed of scales of brass coated with gold. On the back

of each elephant was a wooden tower containing four archers, whose

burnished casques and breastplates glittered in the sun, also

musicians carrying trumpets and horns. In rear of them and in front of

the Forum itself was drawn up a body of a thousand Numidian cavalry,

under the Chief Naravas, who, with a gold circlet round his head,

which was studded with ostrich plumes, headed their van. Naravas, like

all his followers, bestrode a magnificent white barb, without either

saddle or bridle; the ornamental saddle cloth of golden embroidery,

fastened by a cinglet, being merely for show, for the Numidians had no

need for either saddles or bridles, but guided their horses with their

knees. The hoofs of the horses were gilded, and their manes and tails

had been newly stained with vermilion. Altogether, this band of

Numidian cavalry formed a remarkable sight. The chief himself and all

his men held a barbed dart in each hand, while a sheath or quiver

containing other darts hung upon their left breasts. On the right side

each carried a long, straight sword.

Following Naravas and his cavalry, the whole street up to Hamilcar’s

dwelling was filled with the soldiers of the “Sacred Band”--the

_élite_ of Carthage. This corps was comprised only of those belonging

to the richest and noblest families, and they more than equalled in

valour and determination the fiercest of the mercenaries against whom

they had been lately fighting. Their armour was of the most gorgeous

description; it seemed literally made of gold; while necklaces of

pearls and earrings of precious stones adorned their persons. On their

fingers they wore gold rings in number equalling the battles they had

been in--one for each fight; but many of them present on this eventful

morn had taken part in so many fights under Hamilcar that they were

unable to carry all their rings on their fingers. They had therefore

attached them by smaller rings of strong metal to the edges of their

shields, which shields were inlaid with gold and precious stones. With

each maniple, or company of a hundred of the Sacred Band, was

present--in rear--a hundred Greek slaves. These slaves wore collars of

gold, were gorgeously attired, and bore in state the golden wine

goblets from which the Sacred Band were wont to drink. Alone in the

army the Sacred Band were allowed to drink wine when on service; for

other soldiers to do so was death. Woe betide any soldier of any other

corps who should be discovered in purloining or even drinking from one

of these sacred cups. Crucifixion was the least of the evils that he

might expect to befal him.

The Sacred Band were commanded at that time by Idherbal, the son of

Gisco, the general who had been so barbarously murdered by Spendius

and Matho. He was a noble-looking young man, mounted on a splendid

chestnut barb. All his officers were however, like the men,

dismounted. Originally two thousand five hundred in number, there now

only remained eighteen hundred of Idherbal’s troops.

Eight hundred of these filled the streets from the rear of the

Numidian cavalry to Hamilcar’s palace, the remaining thousand were

massed behind the palace, and they in turn were to be followed by over

three thousand Gauls who had, fortunately for themselves, immediately

left the insurgent camp and joined Hamilcar on the first occasion of

his advancing against the mercenaries. These Gauls were naked to the

waist and carried long straight swords.

On each side of the road leading up to the citadel, for the whole

distance at intervals of a few paces, were posted alternately

“hastati” or spearmen, and cavalry soldiers to keep back the crowd.

These were all Iberians or Spaniards, some of whom had come across

with Hamilcar himself when he had left Sicily, while others had

through emissaries been since recruited. They were all absolutely

faithful to Hamilcar. The horses of the Spanish cavalry were saddled

and bridled, and the soldiers of both horse and foot alike wore under

their armour white tunics edged with purple. The cavalry carried a

long straight sword, adapted either to cutting or thrusting, and a

small shield on the left arm. There were about two thousand in number

of these guards placed to line the streets.

With the exception of the Sacred Band of nobles, upon whom Hamilcar

could perfectly rely, and whom, for State reasons, he wished to have

that day much _en evidence_ in his train, none of these troops, nearly

eight thousand in number, were Carthaginians. Orders had been

previously given that all the guard duties at the outposts and round

the city walls were that day to be taken by the recently raised

Carthaginian troops. All the guards within the city were therefore

held by troops to whom, as to these soldiers of his magnificent

escort--Hamilcar’s person was as sacred as that of a god.

Between the first and second detachments of the Sacred Band, in front

of the door of the palace, stood Hamilcar’s magnificent state

elephant, Motee, or Pearl--the highest in all Carthage. It was of

great age, and had been brought from India through Persia. The Mahout,

or driver, who was an Indian, was dressed in a crimson and gold

turban, with a loose silken jacket and pantaloons of the same colours.

The elephant, Motee, was protected on the forehead, neck, head, and

shoulders with plates formed of golden scales, while over all its body

hung a cloth of the most gorgeous Tyrian purple, edged with gold.

Round its legs, just above the feet, were anklets of silver, to which

were attached bells like sledge bells, made of bronze, gilded. The

tusks of the elephant were gigantic in size, and were painted in wide

rings with vermilion, leaving alternate rings showing off the white

ivory, the points of the tusks being left of the natural colour. Upon

the back of the elephant was a car of solid silver, each side being

formed of a crescent moon. It was constructed so as to contain two or

three persons only. The front and rear of this car were formed of

large shields, made so as to represent the sun, being of gold, and

having a perfectly smooth surface in the centre, which was burnished

as a mirror. Radiating lines of rougher gold extending to the edges of

the shields made the shields indeed blaze like the sun itself, when

the glory of the sun god fell upon them. Overhead was raised on silver

poles a canopy, supporting a sable curtain or awning, upon which was

represented in gold several of the best known constellations of the

stars. Thus did Hamilcar, by the symbolical nature of this howdah,

which he had had expressly made for this occasion in order to impress

the populace, seem to say that, although devoted to Melcareth, the

unseen god, of whom no representations could be made, he none the less

placed himself under the protection of Baal, the sun god, of Tanith or

Astarte, the moon goddess, and of all the other divinities whom the

stars represented. He knew that not only would the richness of this

new and unheard of triumphal car impress the Carthaginian populace,

always impressed by signs of wealth, but that the sacred symbolism of

his thus surrounding himself with the emblems of all the mighty gods

would impress them still more.

At length, all being ready, Hamilcar, accompanied by his little son,

Hannibal, issued from the house, being surrounded by a body of his

generals. Then the elephant was ordered to kneel, and a crowd of

slaves ran forward with a ladder of polished bronze to place against

its side. A body of “hastati,” placed as a guard of honour, saluted by

raising high above their heads and then lowering to the ground the

points of their polished spears, a movement which they executed with

the most absolute precision. Hamilcar looked critically at the

soldiers for a minute, to see if there were any fault to detect in

their bearing, then, when satisfied that nothing was wrong,

acknowledged the salute and turned to compliment the officer in

command. He happened to be Xanthippus, a son of him who had defeated

Regulus. The troops were a body of 200 Greeks who had fled to Carthage

from Lilybæum to escape slavery at the hands of the Romans. This

young officer himself had joined Hamilcar in Sicily, and done him good

service since.

“’Tis well! Xanthippus,” he said, “if thy soldiers are always as

worthy of thee as they are on this auspicious day, thou too shalt some

day be worthy of thy father.”

It was said so that all the band of Greeks could hear, and said in

Greek. The praise was just enough, but not too much. It was a great

deal from Hamilcar.

Without stirring an inch from the statuesque bronze-like attitudes in

which they stood, a simultaneous cry arose from every throat that rent

the air.

“Evoe Hamilcar!” Then there was silence.

Then instantly, on a signal made to him by Hamilcar, Xanthippus gave a

short sharp order. Once more the spear points being lifted

simultaneously from the ground flashed high in the air, then with a

resounding thud all the butt ends of the spears were brought to the

ground together, and the troops remained like a wall.

Hamilcar and his little son now mounted the elephant; the generals and

staff officers who had accompanied him from the interior of the

palace, also mounted the richly caparisoned horses which brilliantly

clothed slaves were holding, and placed themselves on each side of the

elephant. A blare of trumpets burst forth from musicians stationed

behind the Greek spearmen, and the triumphal procession began its

march towards the temple of Melcareth.

A trumpet note from a mounted herald now gave the signal to march to

the forty elephants and other troops stationed ahead on the Great

Place.

Here there was no delay. Hamilcar had given orders that the Vicus

Satyrnus, that passing by the temple of Moloch, was the one to be

followed, but the road was of course too narrow for a large number of

elephants to march abreast. But they were well trained; all the

elephants in both lines turned to the right into file, and every

second elephant then coming up, the whole body was formed instantly

into ten sections of four elephants each. The leading section of

elephants now wheeled to the left at a trot, and all the others

following at a trot, wheeled at exactly the same spot and the whole

marched up the Vicus Satyrnus. Thus the square was clear of their

enormous bulk soon enough to allow the Numidian cavalry of Naravas,

also moving at a trot, to clear the square in time to avoid checking

the advance of the Sacred Band marching behind on foot. When once the

whole line, both of elephants and cavalry, was clear of the square,

they assumed a walking pace, and then the musical instruments on the

elephants were played loudly with triumphant music, which brought all

of the inhabitants who, for it was still early, had not yet started

for the temple of Baal, to the windows, verandahs, and doors.

“Hamilcar! Is Hamilcar coming?” they cried excitedly to those on the

elephants and to the cavalry. But these were far too well trained to

pay the slightest attention, and pursued their way in silence.

When Hamilcar arrived, on his elephant, opposite the Forum, he saw the

whole of the hundred senators standing on the verandah facing the road

that he had to pass. All were dressed in purple togas, their necks

were adorned with heavy necklaces of pearls or of sacred blue stones,

large ear-rings were in their ears, their fingers were covered with

rings, their wrists were ornamented with bracelets, and their sandals

blazed with jewels.

Willingly or not, they, with one exception, saluted Hamilcar

respectfully as he passed. The exception was a fat, flabby,

middle-aged man with face and eyebrows painted. He was overloaded with

gems and jewellery, but not all the jewellery in the world could have

redeemed the ugliness of his face, or the awkwardness of his figure.

As the elephant bearing Hamilcar approached, this man was apparently

engaged in a wordy war with the soldiers lining the streets. He was

evidently trying to force his way between their ranks, but the foot

soldiers, smiling amusedly, placed their long spears lengthwise across

the spaces between the horse soldiers who separated them, and kept him

back. Gesticulating wildly, and perspiring at every pore, this

grandly-dressed individual was cursing the soldiers by every god in

the Punic calender, when the great General, the saviour of Carthage,

arrived upon the scene. He instantly ordered the herald to sound a

halt.

“Salutation to thee, O Suffete Hanno,” he cried. “Why, what ails thee

this morning? Art thou perchance suffering from another attack of

indigestion, and were not the oysters good last night, or was it the

flamingo pasties that have been too much for thee?”

“Curses be upon thy head, Hamilcar, and upon thy soldiers too,”

replied the other petulantly. “I but sought to cross the road to join

my family in my house yonder, when these foreign devils of thine

prevented me--me, Hanno, a Suffete of Carthage! It is atrocious,

abominable! I will not stand it. I will be revenged.”

Hamilcar glanced across the road to where, on a balcony within a few

yards of him, were standing a bevy of young beauties, all handsomely

attired. They were all smiling, indeed almost laughing, at the

exhibition of bad temper by the overgrown Suffete; or maybe it was at

Hamilcar’s remark about his indigestion, for Hanno was a noted

glutton. Seeing the young ladies, the General continued in a bantering

tone:

“Ay! indeed, it is a meet cause for revenge that thou hast, O Hanno,

in being thus separated, if only for a short space of time, from thy

lovely daughters yonder.”

“My daughters, my daughters!” spluttered out Hanno excitedly. “Why,

thou knowest I have no daughters, Hamilcar. Dost thou mean to insult

me?”

“I insult thee, noble Hanno! Are those noble young beauties, then, not

thy daughters? Surely thou must pardon me if I am mistaken, but

meseems they are of an appropriate age, and thou saidst but this very

minute that my soldiers, meaning, I suppose, the soldiers of the

State, had prevented thee from joining thy family yonder. Of what,

then, consists thy family?”

At this sally there was a loud laugh, not only among the young girls

on the balcony, but from all the assembled senators. For it was a

matter of common ridicule that Hanno, whose first wife had been

childless, had put her away in her middle age, and taken advantage of

the recent law permitting polygamy to take to wife at once half a

dozen young women belonging to noble families, whose parents were

afraid to oppose such a dangerous and powerful person. Hanno was

furious, but strove to turn the tables by ignoring this last remark.

“Whither goest thou, Hamilcar, with all this army? Hast come to

conquer Carthage?” he asked sarcastically.

“And how could I conquer Carthage when it contains a Hanno, conqueror

apparently of all the hearts therein? Could Lutatius Catulus have

conquered Lilybæum even had but the mighty Admiral Hanno remained a

little longer in the neighbourhood?”

This reference to Hanno’s defeat at the Ægatian Islands made him

furious. He could not bear the smiles he saw upon his young wives’

faces and the sneers he imagined upon the faces of the senators behind

him. He broke out violently:

“Whither goest thou, Hamilcar, with all these troops? As thy

co-Suffete I demand to know, lest thou prove to be plotting against

the State,” and he stamped upon the ground in rage. Hamilcar smiled

sarcastically.

“I go, Hanno, where all good Carthaginians should go on a day like

this, to offer a sacrifice to the gods.”

“Ah!” cried Hanno, seeing a chance, “’tis well that spite of all

former evasions thou hast at length determined to do thy duty to thy

country by frying yonder brat of thine as a thanksgiving to Moloch. I

would that I might be there to see the imp frizzle, and all the rest

of the Barcine tribe as well.”

Hamilcar was now angry, but he answered in apparent politeness and

good humour:

“There are some bodies that will frizzle far better than such a

morsel, Hanno; but since thou wouldst see some frizzling, thou shalt

even now accompany me as far as the temple of Baal. I have plenty of

room on the elephant.”

“Come hither, Idherbal,” he cried, the chief of the Sacred Band having

taken up a position near him, “tell some of thy men to assist the

noble Suffete on to the car beside me. He is anxious to see some

burning done to-day. He shall not be deprived of the pleasure of

assisting in person at the burnt sacrifices.”

Hanno turned pale. He tried to retract his words. The large tears fell

down his flabby cheeks. He attempted to resist. But resistance was

useless. In a few seconds the soldiers of Idherbal very roughly forced

“the soldier’s enemy,” as he was rightly termed, upon the car beside

Hamilcar, and the procession again started, leaving the hundred

senators and all the women on the balcony, not that these latter cared

much, trembling with fear; for they imagined, and with apparent

reason, that Hamilcar was about to offer Hanno as a burnt sacrifice to

Moloch, and the senators did not know if their own turn might not come

next. Therefore, raising their robes in dismay, they all rushed into

the Forum, not caring in the least as to what might be the fate of

Hanno, but only trembling for their own skins. Might not the time have

really come when Hamilcar was about to revenge himself upon all the

ancients for their long-continued neglect of him and all the best

interests of Carthage? And was not all the power in his hands? Thus

they reasoned.

There was no doubt about it that all the power was in the hands of

Hamilcar, and that, if he had been only a self-seeking man, he could

easily that day and at that hour have seized and burnt not only Hanno,

but also all those of the rich and ancients of Carthage, whom he knew

to be inimical to himself. He could with the greatest ease have

shattered the constitution, denounced the captured senators to the

people as equally responsible with the mercenaries for all the

miseries they had suffered, and caused them to be offered up wholesale

to Baal in that very same holocaust with Matho and Hanno. But Hamilcar

was not a self-seeking man, or he would that day, after first removing

all his enemies from his path, have declared himself King of Carthage.

And the people would have applauded him, and he would have ruled

wisely, and probably saved Carthage from the terrible destruction

which awaited her later as a reward for treating his son Hannibal, in

after years, with the same culpable neglect that she had shown

himself.

Hamilcar, however, did not imagine that his duty to his country lay in

making himself king. Nevertheless, he determined to show his power,

and to establish it over the senators, at least until such time as he

should have obtained from them what he wanted--what he considered

needful for his country’s welfare merely, and not for his own.

To the young Hannibal, who had from the time of earliest youth been

brought up to look upon his father’s foes as his own, every word of

what had taken place was full of meaning. Looking disdainfully at the

pale-faced Suffete, who, with the tears flowing down his fat cheeks,

looked the image of misery, he asked:

“Father, is it true that this man wanted you to offer me up as a

sacrifice to Baal? I have heard so before!”

“Yes, it is true, my son, and I should, owing to the pressure put on

me, doubtless have done so had I not thought that thou wouldst be of

far more use to thy country living than dead.”

“Ah! well,” replied Hannibal complacently, “now we will burn him

instead, and he will deserve it, and someone else will get all his

young wives. I am glad! But if I were going to be burned I would not

have blubbered as he is doing like a woman. Just look at his

disgusting tears! I suppose it is all the fat running out. Pah! how

soft he is!” and the boy disdainfully dug his finger into the soft

cheek of Hanno, just below the eye, where it sunk in the fat nearly up

to the knuckle.

“Do not defile thy hands by touching the reptile, Hannibal,” remarked

his father.

So the boy desisted, and sat silently and disgustedly watching the

wretched man as they moved on.

Meantime, as the procession advanced slowly along the crowded streets,

and the people saw the tear-stained and miserable-looking Hanno seated

on the grand elephant in the gorgeous shining car beside Hamilcar,

whose mortal enemy he had always shown himself to be, the word was

passed from mouth to mouth throughout the multitude, “Hamilcar is

going to burn Hanno! Hamilcar is going to sacrifice Hanno!” And the

fickle people shouted loudly cries of welcome and triumph for

Hamilcar, and gave groans and howls of detestation for Hanno. So

certain did his end seem to be, that the wretched man was dying a

double death beforehand.

At length the open place was reached by the temple of Moloch. Here all

the women who had heard the cry became perfectly delirious with

delight when they saw the fat Suffete in his miserable condition.

“Smite him, smite him,” they cried. “Tear him to pieces; let us drag

him limb from limb; the man who has caused the war; the man who has

deprived us of our lovers and murdered our husbands, but who has,

nevertheless, taken six young wives himself. Burn him! burn him!” And

before the guards lining the streets knew what was about to happen, at

least a hundred women slipped under their arms, and made a way

through. Then rushing to Hamilcar’s elephant, they endeavoured to

spring up into the car, with the hope of tearing the hated Suffete to

the ground.

Motee was the tallest elephant in Carthage, and they could not effect

their purpose, though one young woman, more agile than the rest, being

helped by others, got such a hold of the trappings, that she was able

at last to swing herself right up into the car.

“This kiss is for my lost lover,” said she, and seizing Hanno by the

ears, she made her teeth meet through the flabby part of his cheek;

“and this kiss for thy six wives,” she cried, and this time she made

her little white teeth meet right through the other cheek just below

the eye.

The soldiers overcame the other women and beat them back, and even got

hold of Hanno’s assailant by the legs; but for a while she could not

be dragged away, for Hanno himself was clinging with both hands to the

side of the car, and she had him tight by the ears and with her teeth.

At last, exhausted, she let go; but as she did so, she scored his face

all down on both sides with her long finger nails, leaving him an

awful picture, streaming with blood.

Meanwhile the drums and trumpets had ceased sounding, and the cries of

the miserable, tortured victims inside the temple could be plainly

heard as the priests ran out to see what was going on. The smell of

roasting flesh also filled the air with a sickening odour.

The women who had been beaten back from the elephant now remained

outside the line of soldiers, which had been reinforced by some of

Hamilcar’s escort. They could not possibly approach a second time;

but, like a group of hungry hyenas, they remained screaming and

gesticulating, thirsting for their prey. Many of them were beautiful,

most of them were young. Their raven tresses were raised above their

heads, and bound with fillets of gold. Their dresses displayed their

beautiful arms and bosoms, their necks were covered with jewels, their

wrists with bracelets, and their fingers were almost concealed by the

rings of precious stones. They were clothed in purple and fine linen;

but in spite of all these signs of womanhood gently nurtured, they had

already ceased to be women, and had become brutes. The burning, the

blood, the torture, the smell of the roasting flesh, the cries of the

victims, the sight of the dying agonies of men from an early hour that

morning, had completely removed all semblance from them of the softer

attributes of womanhood, and they had become panthers, wolves.

“Give him to us, Hamilcar!” they screamed; “give over to us the

wretch, who, by refusing to pay the mercenaries, caused the war. We

will burn him, torture him! Burn him! burn him!” They became fatigued

at length with their own screaming, until many fell upon the ground

fainting and exhausted. Then Hamilcar sent for all the musicians upon

the elephants in front. He also commanded the priests to bring all the

kettle drums forth from the temple of Baal, whose terrible brazen

figure could be plainly seen, red-hot and glowing, through the smoke.

Three separate times he commanded all the brazen instruments and the

drums to be sounded together. The horrible din thus raised drowned the

cries of the women; but no sooner did the blare of the trumpets cease,

and the roulade of the drums fall, than the women began shrieking once

more, “Give him to us, Hamilcar! Let us tear him in pieces, torture

him! Burn him! burn him!”

Then to enforce silence, Hamilcar, in addition to the awful sounds of

the musical instruments, ordered the drivers of the elephants to

strike them with the goads and make them trumpet. The trumpeting of

the elephants, in addition to the rest of the infernal din, at length

completely drowned the yells of the women. They subsided in complete

silence. Then, rising in his car, Hamilcar addressed the multitude:

“Oh, priests! men and women of Carthage! it is not meet that I decide

upon this man’s fate. He hath been mine enemy all my life as much, ay,

far more, than he hath been yours. His fate, whether we shall slay him

now or leave him to the future terrible vengeance of the gods, shall

not be left in either your hands or in mine. Here in this car with him

and me, a sacred car devoted as all can see to all the gods, is my son

Hannibal, the favoured of Baal. His young life, from jealousy of me

the father, this miscreant, Hanno, hath often tried to take; ay, even

this very day before the Hundred Judges he suggested openly that I--I

who have saved you all, and saved Carthage, should sacrifice my young

son in a common heap with the bloodthirsty malefactors who are,

rightly for their awful crimes, being sacrificed this day to the

mighty Baal Hammon.”

Here such a howl of execration against Hanno again burst forth from

the crowd that the elephants had once more to be made to trumpet, and

the musical instruments to raise their hideous din, to obtain silence.

Then Hamilcar continued:

“In the hands of this my son, whom I hope may be spared to protect

this country even as I have done, I leave the life of his would-be

murderer. Speak, Hannibal, my son, say, shall this Hanno, who would

have slain thee, die now for thy vengeance and for mine? Or shall he

be left in the hands of the gods, who doubtless for our punishment

have placed such a scourge here on earth among us?”

The boy Hannibal arose and regarded steadily, first the now silent

crowd, and then the bloated form of Hanno, who, with face all

bleeding, hung back upon his seat in the car, while stretching forth

his ring-covered hands to the child as if for mercy. Then he spoke

clearly, in the voice of a child but with the decision of a man:

“My father, and people of Carthage, I am destined from my birth to be

a warrior, one to fight for and protect my country. Do not then let my

first act, where the life of others be concerned, be that of an

executioner. It would not be worthy of one of the blood of Barca. Let

Hanno live. The gods are powerful; his punishment lies in their

hands!”

The boy sank back upon the cushions in the car, and a roar of applause

greeted the speech, for it met the fancy of the crowd. Henceforth the

life of Hanno was secure. He was taken off the elephant, placed in a

litter, and sent to his home under a small escort. But the escort was

not necessary. He was now looked upon as one under the curse of the

gods, and no one in the crowd, whether man or woman, would have

defiled their hands by touching him.

Meanwhile, Hamilcar and his son proceeded to the temple of Melcareth,

where, entering the sacred fane quite alone save for the priests, the

former sacrificed to his protecting deity a bull and a lamb. For no

human blood was ever shed in those days in the temple of the

Carthaginian unknown god. And in that solemn presence, on that sacred

occasion, the boy Hannibal plunged his right arm up to the elbow in

the reeking blood of the sacrifice, and solemnly vowed before the

great god Melcareth an eternal hatred to Rome and the Romans.

* * * * * * * *

A few weeks later, Hamilcar, having won from the terror-stricken

senators all that he required--supreme and absolute command, and

sufficient money and war material--left Carthage with an army and a

fleet. He coasted ever westward, the army marching by land, and

subduing any malcontents that might still exist among the Numidians

and Libyans. At length, having reached the Pillars of Hercules, the

modern Straits of Gibraltar, he, by means of his fleet, crossed over

into Spain. And Hannibal accompanied his father.

END OF PART I.

PART II.

CHAPTER I.

ELISSA.

All the lower parts of Spain had been conquered and settled.

Hamilcar had died, as he had lived, fighting nobly, after enjoying

almost regal rank in his new country. Hasdrubal, who had succeeded

him, was also dead, and now Hannibal, Hamilcar’s son, a man in the

young prime of life, held undisputed sway throughout the length and

breadth of the many countries of Iberia that his father’s arms and his

father’s talents had won for Carthage.

In the delightful garden of a stately building reared upon a hill

within the walls of the city of Carthagena or New Carthage, a group of

girls and young matrons were assembled under a spreading tree, just

beyond whose shade was situated a marble fish pond, filled with

graceful gold and silver fishes. The borders of the pond were fringed

with marble slabs, and white marble steps led down into the basin for

bathing purposes. In the centre a fountain threw up in glittering

spray a jet of water which fell back with a tinkling sound into the

basin.

Upon the marble steps, apart from the other young women, sat a maiden

listlessly dabbling her fingers and one foot in the water, and

watching the fishes as they darted hither and thither after some

insect, or rose occasionally to the surface to nibble at a piece of

bread which she threw them from time to time. The girl, who was in her

seventeenth year, was in all the height of that youthful beauty which

has not yet quite developed into the fuller charms of womanhood, and

yet is so alluring with all the possibilities of what it may become.

Of Carthaginian origin on the father’s side, her mother was a princess

of Spain--Camilla, daughter of the King of Gades. She had inherited

from the East the glorious reddish black hair and dark liquid eyes,

and had derived from the Atlantic breezes, which had for centuries

swept her Iberian home, the brilliant peach-like colouring with its

delicate bloom, seeming as though it would perish at a touch, which is

still to be seen in the maidens of the modern Seville. For this city

of Andalusia had been, under the name of Shefelah, a part of her

grandfather’s dominions. Tall she was and graceful; her bosom, which

was exposed in the Greek fashion on one side, might have formed the

model to a Phidias for the young Psyche; her ivory arms were gently

rounded and graceful. Her rosy delicate foot was of classical

symmetry, and the limb above, displayed while dabbling in the water,

was so shapely, with its small ankle and rounded curves, that, as she

sat on the marble there by the fish pond in her white flowing robes,

an onlooker might well have been pardoned had he imagined that he was

looking upon a nymph, a naiad just sprung from the waters, rather than

upon the daughter of man.

But it was in the face that lay the particular charm. Above the

snow-white forehead and the pink, shell-like ear, which it partially

concealed, lay the masses of ruddy black hair bound with a silver

fillet. The delicious eyes, melting and tender, beamed with such hopes

of love and passion that had the observer been, as indeed were

possible, content for ever to linger in their dusky depths of glowing

fire, he might have exclaimed, “a woman of passion, one made for love

only, nothing more!” Yet closer observation disclosed that above those

eyes curved two ebony bows which rivalled Cupid’s arc in shape, and

which, although most captivating, nevertheless expressed resolution.

The chin, although softly rounded, was also firm; the nose and

delicious mouth, both almost straight, betokened a character not

easily to be subdued, although the redness and slight fulness of the

lips seemed almost to proclaim a soft sensuous side to the nature, as

though they were made rather for the kisses of love than to issue

commands to those beneath her in rank and station.

Such, then, is the portrait of Elissa, Hannibal’s daughter.

The other ladies, including her aunt, the Princess Cœcilia, widow of

Hasdrubal, a buxom, merry-looking woman of thirty, kept aloof,

respecting her reverie. For, notwithstanding her youth, the lady

Elissa was paramount, not only in the palace, but also in the New Town

or City of Carthagena during the absence of her father Hannibal and

her uncles Hasdrubal and Mago at the siege of the Greek city of

Saguntum, and had been invested by Hannibal, on his departure, with

all the powers of a regent. For, being motherless almost from her

birth, Hannibal, a young man himself, had been accustomed to treat her

as a sister, almost as much as a daughter. He had been married when a

mere lad, for political reasons, by his father Hamilcar, and Elissa

had been the sole offspring of the marriage. Since her mother’s death

he had remained single, and devoted all his fatherly and brotherly

love to training his only daughter to have those same noble aims,

worthy of the lion’s brood of Hamilcar, which inspired all his own

actions in life. And these aims may be summed up in a few words:

devotion to country before everything; self abnegation, ay, self

sacrifice in every way, for the country’s welfare; ambition in its

highest sense, not for the sake of personal aggrandisement, but for

the glory of Carthage alone. No hardships, no personal abasement

even--further, not even extreme personal shame, or humiliation if

needful, was to be shrunk from if thereby the interests of Carthage

could be advanced. Self was absolutely and at all times to be entirely

set upon one side and placed out of the question, as though no such

thing as self existed; the might, glory, and power of the Carthaginian

kingdom were to be the sole rule, the sole object of existence, and

with them the undying hatred of and longing for revenge upon Rome and

the Romans, as the greatest enemies of that kingdom, through whom so

many humiliations, including the loss in war of Sicily, and the loss

by fraud of Sardinia, had been inflicted upon the great nation founded

by Dido, sister of Pygmalion, King of Tyre.

These, then, were the precepts that Hannibal had ever, from her

earliest youth, inculcated in his daughter; and with the object that

she might learn early in life to witness and expect sudden reverses of

fortune, he had hitherto, since her twelfth year, ever taken her with

him upon his campaigns against the Iberian tribes. Thus she might from

early experience be prepared, should the cause arise, to fulfil a

noble destiny, even as he himself, having from his tenth year borne

arms under his father Hamilcar and brother-in-law Hasdrubal, had been

prepared for the mighty role which, with the siege of Saguntum, he was

now commencing to fill in the world’s history.

For the Greek city of Saguntum, on the eastern coast of Spain, was

strictly allied with Rome, and the fact of Hannibal’s attacking it

was, he well knew, equivalent to a commencement of a new war with

mighty Rome herself.

Upon Hannibal’s departure for the siege of Saguntum some eight months

previous, he had taken all the generals and captains in whom he could

put trust and the greater part of the army with him. Although not

styled a king, his power was at that time more than regal in all the

parts of Spain south of the Ebro, and his authority as regards the

care of the City of New Carthage itself he had, on his departure,

delegated under his sign manual and seal absolutely to his daughter

Elissa.

It is, then, no cause for wonder, if her female companions looked with

some degree of awe and respect upon this sixteen-years-old girl who

sat there so pensively dabbling her hands and feet in the marble

basin, while raising her head occasionally to cast a glance through

the embrasures on the battlemented walls surrounding the garden, upon

the gulf below and the blue sea stretching out far beyond. Elissa had

far sight, and it seemed to her once or twice as though she could make

out, shining in the evening sun, far away upon the horizon, the white

sails of ships. But they were no larger than specks, and soon

disappeared altogether; therefore the maiden, thinking that she had

been misled by some sea birds, soon gave up watching the sea, and

returned to the apparent contemplation of the fishes, but really to

the continuation of the reverie upon which she was engaged.

Meanwhile the ladies under the trees were chatting away merrily.

“Oh! dear me, how hot it is,” exclaimed the rotund little Princess

Cœcilia, fanning herself vigorously with a palm leaf fan. “I am sure

when my poor husband, Hasdrubal, built this city of New Carthage, he

must have selected it purposely as being the warmest site in all

Spain, just to remind him of his native country which he was so fond

of. Or else,” she continued, “it was to try and keep down my

inclination to fat. Oh! dear me!” and she fanned away at herself more

vigorously than ever.

“Don’t call it fat,” interposed Cleandra, a very handsome fair young

woman of about twenty, who was herself by no means inclined to be

thin--“say rather adipose deposit, it is a far more elegant way of

putting it.”

“Or plumpness, Cleandra, that is nicer still,” struck in Melania, a

dark young beauty with vivacious black eyes, who was a year younger.

“I wish I could call myself plump like thee, I am sure I should not

mind the heat,” she added, “instead of being the scarecrow that I am,”

and rising she surveyed with mock ruefulness her really very graceful

figure. She was the tallest of all the young women there, and was

perfectly well aware of the fact that her comparative slenderness was

most becoming to her willowy and lissome figure.

“A scarecrow, thou a scarecrow,” almost screamed the little Cœcilia.

“Oh! just listen to the conceited thing; why, thou hast a lovely

figure and thou knowest it; there is none in all New Carthage, save

Elissa yonder, who can compare to thee. But then, of course, no one

can compare with her in any way. But what a girl she is! how can she

sit out there in the afternoon sun like that? the worst kind of sun,

my dears, for the complexion, I can assure you. I am sure if I were to

remain like that for only five minutes I should lose my complexion

entirely, yes, become perfectly covered with freckles I am certain, in

even less than five minutes. Now what are you giggling at, you naughty

girls? I declare you are too wicked, both of you; I shall have to

report you to our Queen Regent yonder and ask her to put you both in

the dungeon if you make fun of an old lady like me. Alas! thirty years

of age, don’t you call that old?”

For with a sly glance at each other the two girls had mutually looked

at the lively little princess’s manifestly artificial complexion which

was trickling away in little runnels down her cheeks.

“I wonder what she is thinking about?” she interposed hastily, to turn

away the merry girls’ attention from herself, and glancing across

towards the lady Elissa.

“Who?” said Cleandra.

“Why, Elissa, of course,” replied that lady’s aunt. “Canst thou not

see that she hath been in a brown study for ever so long? She is no

more thinking of the fish than I am; her thoughts are miles and miles

away. But just notice how pretty the ruddy tints are in her dark hair,

lighted up like that by the afternoon sun.”

“Perhaps she is thinking of affairs of State,” answered Cleandra, “and

whether she is to put us in that black hole or no.”

“Or, perhaps,” said Melania with a grain of malice, “and far more

likely, she is thinking of the siege of Saguntum and whether a certain

young officer of cavalry called Maharbal will ever come back from the

war again to do what we girls cannot hope to do, that is cheer her in

her solitude. I really should like to go and disturb her, she reminds

me so of her namesake Dido--Elissa is Hebrew for Dido, thou knowest,

Lady Cœcilia--mourning on the heights of Carthage for her lost

Æneas.”

“I wonder what she sees in that Maharbal,” continued Melania, in a

tone of pique; “a great big mountain of a hobbledehoy, that’s what I

call him, and merely a prefect of the Numidian cavalry, too. Such

assurance on his part to be always making love to her! I wonder that

Hannibal allows it--a mere nobody!”

“A mere nobody! a hobbledehoy! nonsense!” said the princess, “thou’rt

jealous, Melania, because he never looks at thee. Why, he is own

nephew to Syphax, King of Massaesyllia, and cousin to the powerful

Massinissa, King of Massyllia, both great Libyan princes.”

“Mere vassals of Carthage! and the last named not very trustworthy,”

replied the other interrupting.

“Well then,” gabbled on the princess, “look at his strength, a

hobbledehoy indeed; Maharbal is a regular Hercules, and hath a

beautiful face just like the celebrated Hermes of Praxiteles. I think

Elissa will be a very lucky girl if she weds a magnificent fellow like

that; she will be the mother of a race of giants.”

“Shsh! Shsh!” cried both the girls, smiling in spite of themselves.

“Elissa is listening to all we are saying--just look at her.”

“Yes, yes, you wicked people, and she hath been listening for the last

quarter of an hour,” cried Elissa, springing to her feet as red as a

rose. “But really, my aunt is too bad, she maketh me ashamed; say,

what shall we do with her for punishment? put her in the fish pond I

think.” Bounding across the open space, she playfully seized upon the

merry little woman, and aided by the two others, dragged her in spite

of her cries, screams, and vigorous resistance to the very brink of

the marble basin. She struggled violently, and but with difficulty

escaped her fate.

“Oh, dear me! think of my complexion--cold water in the afternoon is

bad for it. Oh! I did not mean a word, dear Elissa. Oh, dear me, I

shall die,” and with a vigorous final effort for freedom, as she was

really a very strong young woman, suddenly she pushed both Elissa and

Melania together over the brink so that they fell with a splash into

the shallow pond. Then being left alone with the plump Cleandra, who

had no strength whatever, she speedily overcame her, and threw her in

after the others, remaining with torn garments and dishevelled hair,

shrieking with laughter, and panting for breath on the bank.

“Now there is naught for us but to have a bathe,” cried Elissa gaily;

and first drenching the princess with a shower of spray, and then

springing up the marble steps, the three girls quickly threw off their

thin, wet, clinging garments.

Standing there together in a pretty group for a brief minute or two,

poised on the top of the marble steps, with arms raised in graceful

curves while loosening the fillets of silver from the hair that fell

in masses to the hips, they seemed in all their youthful beauty like

the three graces personified.

At that very moment, from behind the trees, the sound was heard of a

horse’s hoofs galloping on the turf, and in a second an armed warrior,

mounted on a black charger covered with foam and utterly exhausted,

appeared upon the scene. At the same time, a great sound of shouting

was heard in the town without the garden walls, which shouting was

taken up again and again, till the clamour seemed literally to fill

the air. The shouting sounded like the cheers for victory.

The princess was the first to recover her composure.

“Why, it’s Maharbal,” she cried; “jump into the water, girls,

instantly. Fancy his coming like that!” Then, rushing in front of the

warrior, she wildly waved her hands at the horse, shouting, “Go back!

Maharbal, go away, thou wicked man, go back. Dost not see that the

girls are bathing?”

At that moment they all plunged into the water once more like

frightened swans.

“In the name of Hannibal!” cried the young warrior, “let me pass. I

must speak to Elissa, and instantly, or my head will fall,” and he

held up Hannibal’s signet ring before the dripping princess’s

astonished gaze.

“Oh!” screamed the princess, falling back affrighted. “Hannibal’s

ring! Yes, of course, Hannibal’s orders are law.”

Maharbal advanced to the edge of the shallow pond. In this the maidens

were now crouching and partially concealing themselves under some

flags, but in spite of all, their heads and shoulders remained

uncovered. Elissa and Cleandra faced Maharbal and strived to look

dignified. Melania, on the other hand, had turned her back upon him.

Curiosity and anger combined caused her to turn her head, and she was

the first to speak, as Maharbal, his charger beside him, stood upon

the steps. Both she and Cleandra, of noble Iberian families by birth,

were, although treated as of the family, but slave girls in Hannibal’s

household, therefore she had no right to speak in the tone she now

used, except the right of outraged modesty that every woman possesses.

“Begone! Maharbal, thou insolent wretch, begone instantly, or the Lady

Elissa will have thee scourged and beheaded for thine impertinence.

How darst thou insult us, thou ruffian? I wish that thou wert dead.”

At this instant, Maharbal’s war-horse, with a mournful kind of half

scream, half sigh, fell upon the ground at the edge of the pond, and

with a quiver of all its limbs expired. The warrior turned to watch it

for a second, then looking back, remarked sadly: “My best charger, and

alas! the third I have killed since yesterday morning. But there is no

time for talk. Lady Elissa, my business is with thee alone, and it

brooks absolutely not a moment’s delay. Wilt thou kindly direct thy

slaves,” and he looked hard at Melania, “to leave the water at once. I

must speak with thee alone. I obey the General’s strict orders.

“Pray be quick,” he added, “for I feel my strength rapidly failing me,

and if I have not fulfilled my duty before, like my horse yonder, I

die, I shall have failed in my vows to my General and to my country.”

He removed his helmet as he spoke, and all the three maidens noticed

not only that the young man was turning deadly pale, but that a wound

on the side of the head, which had been covered with coagulated blood,

had broken out, and was bleeding violently afresh.

But he had yet strength to hand a garment, the first he found to hand,

to Elissa, who, while attiring herself in the water, turned sharply to

her attendants, and addressed them authoritatively.

“Leave the water, maidens, and let no false shame delay ye for a

moment, for I see this is a matter of life or death. Begone at once,

and thou, mine aunt,” she cried.

Like startled deer, the two girls, having recovered some of the

scattered raiment, fled from the pond, and rushed within the palace,

followed by the dishevelled Princess Cœcilia. But whether from being

reminded thus forcibly that she was but a slave, or from a combination

of feelings, no sooner had Melania reached her apartment than she

burst into a flood of violent weeping. The princess was wringing her

hands as she went, and talking aloud.

“Oh, dear me! this is very odd and very dreadful, and most improper!

But poor Maharbal’s horse is dead, and he looks at death’s door

himself. Oh! what hath happened? I hope Hannibal is not dead as well,

or a prisoner, or anything awful. But nay! he hath sent his seal. But

I must prepare a room for poor Maharbal to die in; where shall I get a

bed big enough? what a long body he will be.” And so chattering to

herself, for want of anyone else to talk to, she left Maharbal, the

handsome young warrior, alone with the beautiful child of sixteen, the

Lady Elissa.

CHAPTER II.

MAHARBAL.

The young warrior had sunk down upon the grass, and was leaning

wearily upon his elbow by the time that, having partially robed

herself, Elissa was able to issue from the pond and fly to his side.

He seemed dying. Oblivious of all but the presence of the man whom in

her heart she loved with all the spontaneity of a youthful, ardent

nature, she not only thought of nothing but him, but she shewed it

clearly by the look in her eyes and by her actions.

“Oh, Maharbal! Maharbal! look not thus. Dost thou not know that I love

thee?”

She stooped over, seized his hand and pressed it to her lips, then,

with part of her raiment which was lying at hand, she repeatedly

bathed his brows with the cool water from the pond. But his eyes

closed as though he were in a faint; whereupon she leant over, and in

an agony of fear kissed him madly on the lips, muttering the while

some incoherent loving words, and cooing in his ear. They were the

first kisses that ever she had given to man, the virgin kisses of her

beautiful lips. Her embraces brought him to himself. Despite the

delight that shone in his eyes and the gratitude he felt at the

unlooked-for favour, the wounded warrior had not by any means

forgotten his duty. With returning consciousness he stretched out his

hand and gently pushed her back.

“This is no time for kisses, Elissa; there is other work to be done.

The State, thy father’s life, and thine own are to be considered; help

me to sit up and to rest against my poor dead charger. There, that

will do; now I feel better.”

For with all the might of her weak arms she had managed to drag rather

than help him into a sitting posture, and place him with his back

against the dead horse.

“Now sit by me and listen, and read what I have brought thee. First,

take this seal from my finger; it is a duplicate of Hannibal’s signet

ring. Here within my doublet I have a letter; canst thou get it? I

have no strength left.”

Elissa felt for some time beneath the doublet with trembling fingers,

but could not find the letter.

“Hold my hand and guide it,” he said, smiling faintly. Thus aided, he

produced a sealed letter from under his leather jerkin. “Take my

dagger and cut it open,” he said authoritatively.

She obeyed, trembling like the child she really was.

“Now read aloud, that I may know thou hast the meaning. But stay;

first bathe my face once more, for I must keep my senses about me.”

Once more she plunged her garment into the cool water, and for a few

minutes bathed his head and face. The young colossus gave a sigh, then

seemed restored: the colour partly came back to his cheek.

“Now read!” he said; “read.”

But Elissa’s eyes were filled with tears, so that she could not read

the triangular Punic characters.

“Read it to me thyself, Maharbal,” she answered at length, “for I

cannot. There! I will hold it for thee; will that do?”

So he began:

“In the name of the Great God Melcareth, the Invisible God, the God of

Tyre, of Sidon, the God of Carthage, Greeting. From Hannibal, the son

of Hamilcar, Commander-in-Chief of the Carthaginian troops and

Governor-General of Iberia, to his daughter Elissa, Regent and

Governor of New Carthage.

“My daughter, these words are written by the hand of my scribe and

friend, Silenus, but they will be sealed with my signet, which thou

knowest, and thou canst verify the seal if so be they arrive in thy

hands.

“They are sent by the hand of Maharbal, whose fidelity to me is

assured. He also hath some liking for thee if I be not mistaken.

Maharbal was wounded in yesterday’s action, but he is young, of great

strength, and of a great courage; he may succeed in accomplishing the

journey. No other but Maharbal in mine army could ride 2,000 stades

without rest. Should he not succeed, the gods will not have willed it.

“Yesterday, oh, my daughter, after a siege of over eight months’

duration, we stormed and took the town and suburbs of Saguntum. The

enemy fought to the last with the greatest courage, and our losses are

very great.

“Several of my generals, including Hanno, who was the Commander of the

Numidian Cavalry--he was killed in the pursuit of the fugitives--are

dead. Most of the tribunes are dead or disabled, and, in short, there

is scarce an officer of either cavalry or infantry who is not either

dead or wounded. I myself am seriously wounded, but not dangerously.

Maharbal was, by the favour of Melcareth, the means of preserving my

life. He will now succeed Hanno as Commander of the Numidian Cavalry.

“Every male Greek in the city of Saguntum, no matter of what age, we

have put to the sword. All the older women, that is all women over

thirty, I have ordered to be sent out into the country to be an

incumbrance to the tribes of their Iberian allies. All young matrons

up to about the age of thirty, and all girls under that age, I have

handed over to my troops to do with as they will. They will probably

soon wish to sell them as slaves for the Carthaginian market. This

refers to the Greek and also Roman women of all classes, from the

wives and daughters of the generals and rich citizens down to the

women of the lowest orders. For all are captives, and all are slaves

in the hands of my officers and men. Every Iberian woman hath been

allowed to go free. Every Iberian man hath likewise been granted his

liberty. This clemency on my part will gain us many allies among the

Celtiberians north of the river Iberus, whence most of these people

came.

“Our spoils of war are enormous, although the citizens foolishly

attempted to burn themselves with their goods in the marketplace,

which folly was prevented by our rapid advance when the breaches were

stormed. In saying burn themselves, I intended to convey that the male

inhabitants, being Greeks, tried to burn their women and save

themselves; this is the usual Greek custom. But the women were saved,

and are now being consoled by my army. It is the men who sought to

burn them by fire because they could not carry them away with them who

are dead. This is all the news.

“Now, my daughter, I cease to write to thee as thy father, but as thy

General I command thee. It is the Commander-in-chief writing to the

Regent and Governor of New Carthage.

“Maharbal is charged to deliver unto thee this letter if he be alive,

and if thou be alive. He is to find thee, and not to quit thee until

thou readest this letter in his presence. Should he fail in this duty

of his own fault, he will lose his head. Shouldest thou cause him to

fail by thine own neglect of duty, thine own life will be at stake.

For as Regent and Governor of New Carthage thou hast many lives in

thine hands, and thou art answerable for all to me, thy commanding

officer, and through me to the State.

“Now, know this, I have learned only this very day from some Roman

emissaries captured by me, and since executed, that there is a plot

against me in Carthage. Upon learning that I had attacked the city of

Saguntum, contrary, it must be owned, to the treaty signed, from sheer

inability to resist, after my father Hamilcar’s death, by my

brother-in-law, thy late uncle Hasdrubal, the Roman Senate decided to

send an embassy to Carthage to demand my surrender to Rome. That

embassy departed quite recently, comparatively speaking, but found the

party of Hanno, the late Suffete of Carthage, who was, in his

lifetime, the enemy of Hamilcar, in the ascendant. Adherbal, the

deceased Hanno’s eldest son, is now the head of that party. He

entertained the Roman envoys handsomely, and, without any authority

from the State, but merely in his private capacity as a citizen,

promised them, when drunk, both the loss of my head, and the loss of

thy virtue. He is a mere boaster, as was his father, who sought to

have me sacrificed at the age of nine years to Moloch, and who, but

for my own childish words, which saved him, would himself have been

sacrificed instead. Yet, nevertheless, boasters sometimes succeed. For

having boasted, they seek to make good their words, and the greatest

success is often to those who attempt much. I am not, remember,

writing now, oh! Elissa, as a father, but as thy Commander-in-chief,

therefore hearken unto my words.

“Should the sacrifice of my head benefit my country, the enemy or the

country are welcome to my head.

“Again! Should the sacrifice of thy virtue benefit thy country, the

enemy or the country must be welcome to thy virtue. But here there is

no sacrifice necessary. I therefore do not intend to lose my head, nor

do I suggest unto thee that thou shouldst sacrifice thy virtue. Yet

there is a deep-laid plot, and Melcareth alone, the great, the

invisible God, knoweth whether Maharbal will reach thee in time to

stay it.

“Being a man of war myself, and accustomed to open warfare from my

very earliest youth, I love not the torture. Yet for once I praise the

rack, since by it I have gained the secrets of this plot.

“Know then this. Without waiting for the decision in council of the

Hundred, the party of Hanno are about to send, or have already

despatched Adherbal, with a fleet strongly armed with rowers and many

marines who are desperate, mere mercenaries drawn from the disbanded

armies in Greece and Sicily, all ruffians of the very worst

description. His intention is to obtain by fraud or force both

possession of New Carthage and of thine own person, knowing me to be

away at Saguntum. After that, through thee, he hopes to obtain

possession of me also. I cannot tell if these words will reach thee in

time or no, but thou art now, if they do reach thee in time,

forewarned. Pay no attention to the false letters that Adherbal may

bring thee; they are but a snare; he and all his accursed faction are

but scheming against the State. In no case let him in mine absence,

thou living, obtain possession of New Carthage or of thyself.

“As for Hannibal, thy father and thy commander, fear not for him. Do

but thy duty in this crisis, oh, my daughter and my delegate!

“(Sealed) Hannibal.”

As Maharbal read the last lines of this letter, he pushed it back

towards Elissa, who held it.

“Go!” he said, “go at once, heed not me. I saw the sails of Adherbal’s

fleet as I rode up. Leave me instantly.”

“I saw them too!” cried the girl, “but I knew not what they were. Oh,

beloved Maharbal! what if thou shouldst not survive? How can I leave

thee thus?”

“Go! go at once,” replied Maharbal feebly, “send someone to me if thou

choosest, but it is immaterial; go thou at once, do thy duty. Art thou

not Regent and Governor of Carthage? Stay, kiss me once, an’ thou

wilt, for indeed ’tis sweet, Elissa, my beloved, thus for once to feel

thy kiss. Ah! now I can die in peace, but go, go! thine own honour,

thy country, and the safety of Hannibal are all at stake.”

Leaving the imprint of her fervent kisses on his lips, she hastily

departed.

The instant she had left him, Maharbal, the self-reliant young giant,

who had hitherto kept himself up by mere force of will, went off into

a dead swoon. For the blood had been continually oozing from the wound

above his temple while he had been reading Hannibal’s letter, and

moreover, he had not been out of the saddle or tasted food for

forty-eight hours.

Thus it came to pass that when, shortly after, the lively little

princess came out again, accompanied by Melania, they found the

beautiful young man lying all alone, quite inert and apparently dead,

by the side of his horse. And under his head was a large pool of

blood. They had brought wine with them, and sought to force it between

his lips, but the attempt was useless. They then strove to move him

from where he was lying, but in vain. No assistance could be obtained

from any of the men, for Elissa had issued orders to double all the

guards, and placed every available man on duty on the ramparts or the

quays. And so poor Maharbal lay bleeding and unconscious.

Meanwhile two bodies of men had been hastily employed in placing booms

across the entrances to the harbour; other armed forces were drawn up

in detachments upon the island and wharves, and on all sides of the

entrances to the harbour, and a large fleet of vessels, flying the

Carthaginian flag of a white horse on a purple ground, and consisting

of fifty-two stately quinquiremes and twenty-two splendid hexiremes,

all crowded with armed marines, in addition to the full crews

averaging three hundred rowers apiece, being disappointed at finding

the entrance to the harbour closed, was just heaving to, and casting

its anchors in the open sea.

CHAPTER III.

FOREWARNED.

The City of New Carthage, built by Hasdrubal, the son-in-law of

Hamilcar, with whose second wife and now disconsolate widow we have

just made acquaintance, was most excellently situated, whether from an

æsthetic or a strategic point of view.

It was built upon a hilly promontory jutting out into a gulf which lay

towards the south-west. The two entrances to this gulf, which were

separated by an island, were at a distance of about two thousand yards

from the walls of the town, and were narrow enough to be easily

commanded by a small body of defenders. The whole of the interior of

the gulf formed a magnificent harbour.

At the back of the city, on the north-western or land side, there was

situated a long lagoon. This had formerly been separated from the sea

by a narrow isthmus, but Hasdrubal, who had, before his assassination,

been aiming at royal power, had determined to make New Carthage his

royal city, and in consequence as nearly impregnable as possible.

He had therefore cut a channel through this narrow isthmus, thus

allowing the sea and the lagoon to join. And then he had bridged the

channel with a wide and excellent bridge. This bridge was a short way

from the gates of the city, and was the sole means of land

communication with the rest of Spain. The gates were strongly

fortified, and inside and near the walls were erected commodious

barracks for the troops; a little beyond these barracks rose, on an

eminence, a well-designed and formidable-looking citadel, above which

proudly floated the Carthaginian ensign.

The town, as has been said, was hilly, and its designer had taken

advantage of the natural features by making it as beautiful as

possible. On every hill top stood a magnificent marble temple. On the

most commanding hill of all, that which was due east, was reared the

glorious temple to Æsculapius, while those to Moloch and Tanais or

Tanith occupied other prominent sites. In every square and at every

street corner were placed the most exquisite and costly statues, some

of the purest of Parian marbles, and others of solid silver. Some of

the richest silver mines in the then-known world lay close to

Carthagena. The supply of the metal was apparently inexhaustible and

unbounded. For there were not only no such sailors, but no such

skilful miners in those days as the Phœnicians, who had, like the

Greeks, formed peaceful settlements in Spain long before the first of

the Punic wars.

By means of pipes coming under the lagoon from various high hills on

the mainland, the supply of water in the town was abundant, and

tinkling fountains, shaded by splendid plane trees, formed on every

side picturesque rendezvous for the gossips of the town. In addition

there were many excellent wells on the island itself which never ran

dry.

For the situation of his own palace and court, in whose gardens we

made the acquaintance of Hannibal’s daughter Elissa, Hasdrubal, who

was eminently a man of genius, had selected the most advantageous site

on the island, by taking in the whole of a flat-topped hill on the

western side which overlooked the sea and country and all the city,

except the temple to Æsculapius. Here he had reared the most

beautiful and luxuriously-furnished edifice of which the architects of

those days were capable; and from what Carthage was, and what Syracuse

was, we know that their abilities were great. Graceful colonnades,

wonderful mosaic-paved corridors and walls were everywhere; gorgeous

saloons, filled with pictures and statues, formed banqueting halls or

audience chambers; while the richly-furnished sleeping apartments had

been designed with a view to comfort and æstheticism combined.

In one of these, in front of an open window facing south, the carved

lattice fretwork of which was made of the sweet-scented cedar of

Lebanon, and out of which she cast many anxious glances, stood Elissa,

attiring herself as gorgeously as possible with the assistance of

Cleandra, an old white-headed warrior in armour being also in

attendance. The door of the apartment was closed and barred, and in

addition heavy curtains were drawn across it, so that there could be

no chance of a word that was said within the room being heard outside.

“And so, my good Gisco,” said Elissa, while putting on a magnificent

chain of gold and emeralds, “thou dost estimate the numbers of the

fighting men, leaving the rowers on one side, at about eight thousand,

dost thou not? I should have thought there had been more. Why, just

see how their spears glisten in the sun where they are crowded

together on the decks.”

“I did not say they had only eight thousand men, Lady Elissa,”

answered the old Prefect Gisco, a faithful and rugged old retainer of

Hamilcar and Hannibal, who had risen from the ranks and was now the

captain of the garrison of Carthagena. “They must, calculating a

hundred and twenty-five marines to each ship, have at least

considerably over nine thousand fighting men with them; but, as they

would leave at least a thousand on board as a guard to the ships, they

would, if they strove to make a landing, disembark, say, about eight

thousand. But they will not seek to land this evening by force without

a parley first, and even if they should do so, we could defend the two

entrances to the harbour to the last. They could never get in to-night

without fighting at a disadvantage. We have, after all, got six

hundred well seasoned soldiers, who will take a lot of killing; and

then we have three hundred more of the wounded and convalescents, who

came down two months ago from Saguntum. They can bear a hand, and a

very useful one too, as many of them are Balearic slingers, who will

prove most deadly to men in boats.”

“And what about to-morrow, oh, most sapient Gisco, when all our men

are dead?” asked Elissa, smiling the while, and examining her pearly

teeth in the mirror of polished and burnished gold, which Cleandra was

holding up before her. “But I agree with thee; I do not think this

Adherbal will dare to attack Carthaginians without a parley. He will

first try to obtain possession of myself and New Carthage in some

other way. No,” she continued, “we must have no fighting. We can do

better than that, I think, and yet save the situation both for

Hannibal and for the country’s welfare. It will be far better than

Carthaginians fighting against Carthaginians. I have, too, other and

better use to which to place those mercenaries in the ships with

Adherbal.”

The old soldier looked at the young Regent with a puzzled expression,

and waited for an explanation. Elissa smiled enigmatically.

“Listen carefully now, oh! Gisco,” she added, while putting up each of

her little feet in turn upon an ivory and ebony stool for Cleandra to

fasten her jewelled sandals. “Listen, and I will disclose to thee the

details of my plot, by which I believe that we shall avoid any

fighting, for I think by this time to-morrow it will be a case of the

biter bit. But before I tell thee my plans, inform me, my good Gisco,

how much time we have before it will be possible for Adherbal to

land?”

Gisco looked out of the window over the gulf to the sea.

“The current that sets this evening out of the lagoon and the gulf is

just now flowing out to sea with its greatest force, the ships are

anchored at a considerable distance from the shore, and the breeze is

blowing strong off the land. Even if he were to attempt to row ashore

now, Adherbal could not reach the booms under an hour. He is evidently

aware of that fact, and is waiting for the slack tide, for I see a

large galley, with a flag in the stern, lying alongside the largest of

the ships.”

“Then we have plenty of time,” said Elissa, and rapidly she disclosed

her plans to Gisco. Then she sent him off to convey the necessary

instructions to the officers, who were waiting for him outside,

bidding him return instantly and have a herald waiting for her with a

State barge and a crew of swift rowers at the steps below the palace.

Meanwhile, she dictated a letter to Cleandra, which she sealed with

Hannibal’s signet-ring, given to her by Maharbal. Another letter she

wrote herself, and signed with her own seal of office as Regent and

Governor of New Carthage.

By the time these two letters were ready, old Gisco had returned to

inform her that the State galley was waiting at the steps.

“And further,” he added with a smile, “all the preparations for the

fulfilment of thy clever plans are ready, oh! Lady Elissa. Ah, me! to

think of the cunning contained in that little woman’s head of thine!”

And he looked admiringly at her, while the young girl flushed with

pleasure at the compliment.

“Come, Cleandra,” she called, “we must go. But first let us see what

they have done for poor Maharbal.”

Maharbal had been carried in by Gisco’s orders, and was now lying on a

couch in a comfortable apartment, attended by Melania and the Princess

Cœcilia. A learned leech was feeling his pulse, but they saw that he

was still quite unconscious.

Elissa heaved a sigh, then beckoning to her aunt to follow, left the

room.

“My aunt,” she said, changing from the soft Punic tongue, in which she

had been conversing with the old Prefect Gisco, to the Iberian or

Spanish dialect, which the ladies of the household, being all either

half or wholly Iberians, used habitually among themselves; “my aunt,

grave tidings are to hand, or, rather, both grave and good tidings.

Saguntum has fallen, and Hannibal is wounded. The shouting we heard in

the town, as we were surprised by Maharbal, was doubtless caused by

his informing the guards as he passed the city gates of the fall of

that city. It is uncertain”--here she was purposely deceiving her

aunt, whose tongue she feared--“exactly how long it is since the town

of Saguntum fell; but about a week more or less, so I judge from a

letter I have received from my father Hannibal. Further, we may expect

to see some of his advanced guard of returning troops almost at once;

perchance indeed this very day some of them may arrive. But that is

not the grave part of my news--a large fleet hath arrived from

Carthage, and is now lying anchored without the Gulf. It is under the

command of Adherbal, the son of Hanno, one of a family that never bore

good will to my father or my uncle, thy husband’s house. I fear they

come with no good design. Nevertheless, we must make a show of

entertaining the General Adherbal and his principal followers as well;

and I am about to invite them to come here and to pass the night.

Therefore, while I am away, I pray thee make suitable preparations for

a becoming repast, and see ye that chambers are prepared. As the

evenings are now long, and it is, moreover, fresher without than

within, I pray thee also to be kind enough to have the repast spread

upon the western balcony beneath the colonnade.”

The foolish little princess, in a flutter of excitement, was about to

ask a thousand questions; but Elissa, giving her no time to talk,

merely waved her hand and departed, accompanied by Cleandra and the

Prefect Gisco.

Passing through a postern gate in the wall of the palace, they

descended by a wide flight of marble stairs to a landing-stage at the

foot, where was lying moored a magnificent, gilded barge, the prow of

which was shaped like the head and wings of a swan. By the side of

this a gorgeously-clad herald awaited them. He bowed low as the party

approached, and the youthful Regent and Governor of New Carthage

beckoned him to join them, out of earshot of the sailors who formed

the crew.

“Sir Herald,” she said, delivering to him the two letters, “thou wilt

accompany us to the steps at the mouth of the harbour where we shall

land. Thou wilt then proceed to the ship of the Admiral of the fleet

which is lying without the harbour, and deliver to him these two

letters with my greetings. In reply to all questions make only one

answer, namely, that tidings have come that the city of Saguntum fell

over a week ago--fell more than a week ago, dost understand? With

reference to everything else, plead ignorance.”

Entering the barge, followed by Cleandra and Gisco, who gave a short

word of command to the crew, they were, a moment later, being borne

swiftly down the waters of the gulf, and very soon arrived at the

disembarking steps on the south side of the entrance to the harbour,

where a large body of spearmen, who had been standing about on the

quay, fell into rank as they saw the State barge approaching. As the

young girl disembarked, they received her with the same salute as they

would have given to their Commander-in-Chief Hannibal himself.

The young girl acknowledged the salute by a bow, and never, perhaps,

had she looked so noble and dignified. Her dress was calculated to

enhance her beauty and dignity. She was attired in a chiton of purple

silk, with a broad hem at the bottom, which, as well as a band at the

edge of the loose-hanging sleeves, was of white silk, trimmed with

rich, golden braid. On her dark tresses was now poised a small diadem

of gold, inlaid with rubies and pearls. Two large drops of single

pearls were in her ears, while on her arms, both above and below the

elbow, were clasped costly bands of purest gold. On her slender

fingers she wore many beautiful rings, while round her neck hung the

long chain of emeralds, which has been already mentioned. Cleandra

also was upon this occasion very richly attired in white and silver,

which suited well her fair complexion. Her jewels and ornaments were

likewise costly and becoming; for although by the fortune of war she

had become a slave, she was ever allowed by Elissa, who loved her, to

dress in a style befitting the princely Iberian family from which she

had sprung.

After acknowledging the salute, Elissa walked along the ranks of the

soldiers, addressing a word here and there, complimenting one upon his

soldierly appearance, and another on the brilliancy of his arms and

accoutrements. By this tact, and the gentle ways which she had always

displayed in her dealings with the soldiery left under her command,

she had long ago won the heart of every man among the troops, and

there was not that day an officer or man present who would not have

willingly fought for her to the death.

When she had concluded her inspection, she caused Gisco to form up the

troops close round her in a circle. Owing to their numbers, this

circle was many files in depth; but the young Regent wished all to

hear what she had to say.

A bundle of merchandise which was lying on the quay she caused to be

placed in the middle of the circle of warriors, and, mounting thereon,

she addressed the men:

“Soldiers of Carthage, I have glorious news to announce to you.

Maharbal, the Prefect of the Numidian Horse, hath ridden through with

tidings from our General and Commander-in-chief, my father Hannibal,

that he hath captured Saguntum; and not only hath he put all the

garrison to the sword, but seized an enormous booty in treasures and

slaves, of which booty, no doubt, you, my faithful garrison, will

receive your portion. The number of female Greek slaves captured is,

so Hannibal writes, almost unlimited.”

Upon hearing these words, the assembled troops broke into such a burst

of cheering that the crews on the ships lying out in the roads

wondered exceedingly at the cause. But Elissa had purposely appealed

to the baser feelings of her audience. Having allowed a few minutes

for the natural ebullition of feeling, the fair young orator raised

her hand as a sign, and instantly silence was restored.

“I grieve,” she continued, “to say that our losses have been heavy,

and that Hannibal is sorely, although not dangerously, wounded. But,

soldiers of Carthage, a worse danger threatens Hannibal; a worse

danger threatens all of us, guardians here of our country’s honour; a

far worse danger threatens me myself than that of an open foe, and

that danger is from yonder powerful fleet, bearing our own country’s

flag, now lying at anchor but a distance of some five or six stades

from our shore. Alas! that it should be so; but it is true; deceit is

hidden beneath those banners of Carthage, dishonour and fraud menace

us and our country alike from the warships upon which they are flying.

Men of Carthage, brave soldiers of Hannibal, will ye help me to

frustrate that fraud, will ye assist me to defeat the schemes of

dishonour which are laid, not only against us all collectively, as the

keepers for Hannibal of New Carthage, but more particularly against

that which it is meditated to put upon me personally? A plot hath been

hatched against the honour of a young girl who hath only your brave

arms and noble hearts to rely upon for her safety. Will ye help me?”

“We will! we will! We will die for thee and thine honour, Elissa; we

will die for Hannibal. Confusion to the miscreants!”

Such were the hoarse cries that rose from every throat, while in their

rage the soldiers beat upon their shields with their spears for want

of an enemy upon whom they could wreak their fury.

Once more the maiden, whose cheeks had reddened, and whose heart beat

tumultuously at the noise and the shouting, raised her shapely hand,

and again silence fell upon the crowd.

“I thank ye all, my soldiers. I thank each and every one.” She spoke

with visible emotion. “Now hearken attentively to my words, for time

is short. Our forces are small, while those on yonder fleet are large.

Yet, indeed, I know that, should it come to fighting, ye will fight

most valiantly, and to the death if need be. But I am not prepared,

nor do I intend, unless the worst comes to the worst, that ye should

throw away your lives in an unequal battle with yonder mercenaries.

Nay, all of ye have long to live, if ye but implicitly trust in me and

obey unquestioningly the commands that will be put upon you. Thus,

even should the orders that ye will shortly receive appear unmeaning

and futile, and should a long night and morning of apparently useless

marching and work be your portion, yet rely upon me. Nothing that ye

do will be without cause, but all for the common welfare.

“For seeing our weakness, if we would not be crushed, we must meet

guile with guile, deceit with deceit. And we will see by to-morrow’s

morn whose plans are the most successfully laid; those of the crafty

general clad in golden armour, whom I can now see stepping into his

galley from the flag ship yonder, or those of Hannibal’s daughter, the

young maiden who now asks you to trust her.”

“We trust thee! we trust thee, oh, Elissa!” cried all the soldiers

vociferously.

“Then, that is good. One command I lay upon ye all, officers and men

alike: avoid all discourse, if possible, with any who should land from

the ships. But if, from their superior rank, ye cannot avoid answering

the questions of any, then say simply this, no more nor less, that

Saguntum fell more than a week ago, and that part of Hannibal’s troops

are expected to march into Carthagena shortly. I have done. Now,

Captain Gisco, wilt thou give orders to reform the ranks, tell off the

troops for the guard of honour, and carry out the instructions that

thou knowest?”

Swiftly, and in order, the troops reassumed their original formation,

while Elissa, somewhat heated and fatigued after her efforts of

oratory, had the bale of merchandise upon which she had been standing,

moved to the water’s edge, and seated herself where she could get the

sea breeze and watch what was going on outside the gulf.

Meanwhile, the boom having been opened wide enough to admit of the

passage of boats, the herald had passed through with the barge of

State and conveyed the two letters to the hexireme, which he rightly

conjectured to be the ship of the commander of the fleet. He was met

at the gangway by an officer, who instantly conveyed him to where

Adherbal was sitting under a crimson awning. He was surrounded by

several officers clad like himself in golden armour, which, with the

rich wine cups standing about, betokened that they were all members of

the body of _élite_ already mentioned, and known in Carthage as the

Sacred Band.

Adherbal himself was a dark, very powerfully built, and handsome man

of about thirty. He was continually laughing and showing his white

teeth, and seemed to be generally well contented with his own person.

But his smiles were too many, and his _bonhomie_ often deceptive, for,

although he was personally brave, he was nevertheless at heart a

thorough villain. His wealth being unbounded, he had been hitherto

always able to indulge to the utmost in the debauchery in which he

revelled, and there was no baseness or fraud to which, by means of his

wealth, he had not frequently descended, in the pursuit of women of

immaculate life and high station in Carthage. He was the leader of the

most dissolute band of young nobles in all Carthage, and his high rank

and station alone as Commander of the Sacred Band, and as the head of

the now paramount family in that city, had hitherto been the means of

his immunity from punishment in any way, either for his own notorious

escapades or for those of the followers who consorted with him, and

who, under his protection, vied with each other in imitating his

iniquities. Among these companions it had frequently been his boast

that there was no woman, no matter of what rank or family, upon whom

he had cast his eyes, who had not, sooner or later, either by force or

fraud, become his victim. And these boasts were, unfortunately, true;

many a family having been made miserable, many a happy home made

wretched by his unbridled license and wickedness. It was during a

drinking bout to which he had invited the Roman envoys, and when he

was boasting as usual in his cups, that Ariston, one of his

companions, jealous of his success where some woman, whom he himself

fancied, was concerned, had taunted him before all those assembled.

“Oh, yes!” said Ariston banteringly, “we all know that thou art a sad

dog, Adherbal, and that here in Carthage thou wilt soon be compelled

to weep like Alexander, because thou hast no more worlds left to

conquer. For soon, doubtless, either all the maidens will be dead for

love of thee, or else all the fathers of families or the husbands of

pretty wives will have destroyed them to preserve them from thee. And

yet, for all that, I venture to state that there is one Carthaginian

family, whose dishonour thou wouldst more willingly compass than any

other, where even such a seductive dog as thyself can never hope for

success, and whose honour, despite all thine arts, shall always remain

inviolable. And yet, if report says true, there is a beautiful young

maiden in that family, one so lovely, indeed, that not one of all

those who have hitherto felt thy kisses can be mentioned in the same

breath with her. But she is not for thee, oh, Adherbal! thou most

glorious votary of Tanais; no, this is game, my noble falcon, at which

even thou darest not to fly.”

“For whom, then, is this pretty pigeon reserved, my good Ariston? Is

it, perchance, for thine own dovecote that she hath the distinguished

honour of being reserved? Well, here’s to thy success!”

Thus he answered, scornfully tossing off a huge bumper of wine.

“No, not for me either,” replied Ariston; “it is not for me to rashly

venture in where the bold Adherbal dares not even place a foot within

the doorway. But I am sorry for thee, Adherbal, for the pretty bird

would well have suited thy gilded cage in the suburbs of the Megara.”

“I will wager thee five hundred talents that thou liest, Ariston,”

replied the other, inflamed with wine, and irritated at the banter

which was making the other boon companions laugh at his expense. “I

will wager thee five hundred silver talents,” he repeated, “that there

is no family in Carthage where, if it so please me, I dare not place a

foot; there is no quarry upon whom I dare not swoop, if I so choose,

ay, nor fail to bear off successfully to mine eyrie in the Megara. But

name this most noble family, pray, name this peerless beauty of thine,

and we will see,” and he laughed defiantly, and took another deep

draught of wine.

“I said not a family in Carthage, I said a Carthaginian family,”

answered Ariston, purposely provoking and tantalising him. “I spoke of

a more beautiful girl than either thou or any one at this festive

board hath ever yet seen.”

But now the curiosity of all the other convives, including the Roman

envoys, was aroused.

“The name, the name!” they cried tumultuously; “name the family and

name the girl.”

“The family is that of Hannibal; the girl whose favours even Adherbal

dareth not seek to obtain is Elissa, Hannibal’s daughter.”

“Hannibal! Hannibal’s daughter!”

A hushed awe fell upon the assembled guests as they repeated these

words. Then they burst out into a roar of drunken laughter, and

taunted the boaster.

“Ha! he hath got thee there, Adherbal; thou hadst better pay up thy

five hundred talents to Ariston at once and look pleasant, and seek

thy revenge another day.”

But Adherbal, furious at the banter and the mention of the hated name

of Hannibal, had sprung to his feet, wine cup in hand.

“I double my wager,” he cried; “not five hundred, but one thousand

talents do I now stake, that by some means or other I gain absolute

possession of the girl. Nay, further, I solemnly vow, by Astarte,

Moloch, and Melcareth, to whom I pour out this libation of wine, to

bring her father Hannibal’s head also, and lay it at the feet of

these, our guests, the Roman envoys. I do not think that, seeing the

mission upon which they have arrived in Carthage, I could promise them

a more acceptable present. But secrecy must be preserved.”

The speech was received with deafening applause by all present, all

being of the anti-Barcine party, and ways and means were immediately

discussed.

CHAPTER IV.

FOUR CARTHAGINIAN NOBLES.

Adherbal and his companions received the herald insolently, without

rising.

“Well, fellow,” he said, “how comes it that thou darest to trust thy

person upon my ship when thy companions yonder have thought fit to bar

the entrance to their harbour to Carthaginian ships?”

Although the herald’s face flushed, he made an obeisance, but no other

reply than:

“I bring two letters for my lord.”

“From whom are they, fellow?”

“They were given me for my lord by the Regent and Governor of New

Carthage.”

“And who is the Regent and Governor of New Carthage?”

“Elissa, my lord, daughter of Hannibal, the Commander-in-Chief and

Governor-General in Iberia.”

“Elissa, thou knave, thou liest, by Baal Hammon. Why, from all reports

she is but a girl. How old is she?”

“I do not know the Regent’s age, my lord.”

“And are both these letters from this precious Regent?”

“I know not, my lord.”

“Wilt answer me this at once, or for all thy fine clothes I will have

thee ducked in the water alongside. Was it by the orders of this quean

of a girl that those booms were thrown across the harbour mouths?”

“I have not the honour of being in the Regent’s confidence, my lord.

Maybe that my lord will get the information that he requires on

perusal of these two letters which I have the honour to present to his

lordship.”

And with another obeisance the herald presented them to Adherbal, who

tossed them carelessly on the table before him, and called for a cup

of wine.

A loud laugh from one of the young nobles seated negligently close by

here interrupted the colloquy; he was evidently in a jovial mood, and

in no awe of the general.

“Upon my word, Adherbal, I think the fellow’s right, and by Astarte,

the sweet goddess of love, he got thee that time. He seems a model of

discretion, at all events. I think that while thou art discussing thy

stoup of wine, I had better take him in hand a bit and see if I can

make him a little more communicative. Look here, my fine fellow, how

many women have they up in the palace there on the hill, and are they

fond of love, and are they pretty, and are there any men there making

love to them, and who is the lover of this Regent and daughter, or I

don’t know what you call her, of New Carthage? And is there any chance

for a good-looking fellow like me, Imlico, the son of Mago, or for an

ugly fellow like that Ariston yonder, son of--who art thou the son of,

Ariston? the wine hath caused me to forget completely thy

distinguished parentage. Or again, think ye, Sir Herald, that there is

to be found within this precious town a distinguished-looking female

who could reciprocate the loving glances of my portly friend here, the

noble Zeno, formerly of Rhodes? A very firebrand of love is Zeno, and

the very prince of good fellows. I daresay thou art a good enough

fellow thyself, by the bye. Take a cup of wine and think of all my

questions and answer them afterwards. Take thou mine own goblet, ’tis

but newly filled; and are we not both Carthaginians? I wager thee ’tis

the first time ever thou drankest from a golden cup belonging to one

of the Sacred Band.”

And he handed the cup to the herald, who, fearful of offending, took

and drank slowly, sip by sip, as if he were a connoisseur, thus

obviating the necessity for the reply which Imlico awaited patiently.

“Sayest thou nought?” said the somewhat stout noble called Zeno. “Tell

me, Sir Herald, what is the news from Saguntum?”

“Saguntum fell more than a week ago,” answered the herald readily.

“Saguntum fallen, by Pluto!” exclaimed Adherbal, who had been getting

moody and sulky over his wine, and was sitting with a frown on his

face.

“And what news of Hannibal?” asked Ariston, thinking that his turn had

now come for a question.

“Some of Hannibal’s troops are expected in from Saguntum very

shortly,” answered the herald once more, with equal readiness.

“Hannibal’s troops coming in shortly! This is getting interesting with

a vengeance!” said Adherbal. “I think I had better read the letters

without further delay.”

Taking a jewelled dagger from his waist, he rapidly cut the silken

threads which, fastened down with a seal, closely held each of the

letters. He examined the signatures.

“I suppose ye drunken fellows would like to know what they are both

about?” he observed familiarly. “Will ye that I read them aloud? One

of them is, I see, from Hannibal, yea, the mighty Hannibal himself!

How knew he I was here? The other is likely to be much more

interesting, it is apparently from my lovely mistress that is to be,

for it is signed and sealed by Elissa, Regent and Governor of New

Carthage. Which shall I read first?”

“Elissa’s, of course,” cried out the three semi-drunken nobles of the

Sacred Band.

“Then I shall disappoint you,” said Adherbal, “and keep Elissa’s

letter to the last. Sweets should always come after solid food. So for

Hannibal first, and may curses light upon his father’s grave.”

Utterly careless of the presence of the herald, or the mercenaries and

officials of the ship, who from curiosity had been thronging round as

close as they dared, to stare at the herald, Adherbal read loudly, but

in a voice slightly thickened from the effects of drink, the letter

which Elissa had dictated and sealed with her father’s signet:--

“In the name of the great Melcareth, the God of Tyre, of Sidon, and of

Carthage, greeting.

“From Hannibal, the son of Hamilcar, Commander-in-Chief and

Governor-General of the Carthaginian Provinces in Iberia, to the Lord

Adherbal, the son of Hanno.

“My lord, I captured the town of Saguntum some seven days since, and

learned from some Roman prisoners that thou wert coming to New

Carthage with a fleet containing numerous troops for my reinforcement.

I thank thee for this mark of friendship, and the more so as I was not

aware that thou hadst forgotten or forgiven the old party feud between

thy father, Hanno, and my father, Hamilcar. I shall be glad of thy

reinforcement, for this siege hath wasted my troops sorely, and much

fatigued those that are not wounded, the greater part of whom I am

sending to New Carthage at once to recruit after the fatigues of

constant battle.

“As, owing to a wound, I shall myself remain here in occupation of

Saguntum with but a small force for some time, I shall be glad of thy

immediate presence hither, with all thy force to help, in case of a

rising of the Celtiberians, to serve as a garrison. Therefore, after

resting thyself and thine officers for a day or two at New Carthage,

where my daughter, Elissa, my sister-in-law, Cœcilia, Princess of the

Cissanians, and the various ladies of my daughter’s household will

give thee and thine all becoming entertainment in my palace, I beg

thee to proceed with thy fleet hither at once. This movement will be

also vastly to the interest of thyself, of thine officers, and of the

soldiers accompanying thee. For the amount of our spoils of war is so

immense that the like of it hath never been seen in any war of which

we have any record. Leaving on one side the enormous amount of gold,

silver, and valuables; the number of young Greek women, whom we hold

at present prisoners in our camp, exceeds by at least three to one the

number of the whole army, and by about six to one the number of the

unwounded or the convalescents. All the troops, among whom these Greek

women have been divided, are already, owing to the expense of their

keep, anxious to sell them for ready money, of which, owing to the

lack of remittances of pay from Carthage, they are greatly in need.

Many of the younger Greek girls are of excessive beauty, and as my

soldiers will be prepared to sell them for a small sum, thou canst

easily see what a large profit there is to be made by thine officers

and soldiers should they come to Saguntum and buy them. For when the

ships of thy fleet return, after due repose in Saguntum, the slaves

can be sent in the hands of merchants to Carthage and sold again.

Further, I have very large cargoes of valuables of every description

to remit to the Government of Carthage, of which naturally thou, my

lord, and all thine officers and crews would retain considerable

shares. Therefore, my lord, I repeat that thy coming to Saguntum

without delay is advisable, for the amount of booty we have is

enormous beyond all calculation.

“(Signed and Sealed) Hannibal.”

After the reading aloud of this epistle, there was much laughter and

jesting among the four nobles on the deck at Hannibal’s expense. They

made fun of his apparent gullibility with reference to the object of

their expedition; they indulged in the lewdest of jests about the

ladies left in the palace, with whom, apparently so innocently,

Hannibal suggested they were to stay for a few days, and discussed the

necessity, if troops were to arrive from Saguntum, of going ashore at

once. They talked openly, for they were all flushed with wine, of the

ease with which the object of their visit to New Carthage seemed

likely to be accomplished, and how, further, they would easily seize

and capture Hannibal himself at Saguntum. Meanwhile, the troops who

were crowded on the decks around were listening to every word.

“Now, let us see Elissa, my little sweetheart’s, letter,” said

Adherbal gaily. It ran as follows:--

“In the name of Tanais, Queen of Heaven, Queen of Love, Queen of the

Seas, greeting.

“From Elissa, daughter of Hannibal, Regent and Governor of New

Carthage, to Adherbal, the son of Hanno.

“My lord, we are but a few poor women here, and regret that we have

not to-night the wherewithal to entertain a large force in the place.

Further, seeing my lord’s ships in the distance, I imagined that a

Roman fleet was coming to attack New Carthage in revenge for the siege

of Saguntum. Therefore, I caused booms to be drawn across the

entrances to the harbour. But a letter from Hannibal hath informed me

of thy coming. To-morrow morning, should my lord wish to bring his

fleet into the harbour, the booms will be removed. In the meantime,

will my lord, bringing such nobles and retainers as are becoming to

his dignity with him, honour our poor palace with his noble presence?

“My lord, we have but a few troops here, or would have drawn up an

army to salute thee on arrival. Some of Hannibal’s troops, however,

will arrive to-morrow morning, some also may arrive to-night.

To-morrow we will hold a grand review in my lord’s honour. My lord,

thou art welcome to New Carthage. The sight of a few noblemen of rank

from our mother-country will be in sooth a delight to our eyes.

“We inhabitants of Iberia have not, alas, yet learned all the arts to

charm that are owned by the ladies of Carthage; but our hearts are

warmly inclined in advance to those who come from our own country. My

lord, it is for thee and the nobles of thy suite to come and teach us

what demeanour we had best assume to be most agreeable. We are young,

we are innocent and untutored provincials, but we are prepared

nevertheless willingly to learn the ways of Carthage.

“Will my lord send by my herald an immediate reply to say if we may

expect his noble presence with us to-night? I am awaiting my herald,

and my lord himself, on the quay.

“(Sealed and Signed)

“Elissa, Regent and Governor of New Carthage.”

There was great excitement among the four dissolute young nobles, who

wished to go ashore at once upon the reading of this letter. The

herald, who had been trembling in his shoes for his own safety, was

thereupon instantly despatched with a hasty note to say that Adherbal

with the three nobles and a few men of his suite were coming ashore

without delay. For, fatuous individuals as they were, they were

completely taken in by Elissa’s letter, and imagined that they had but

to go on shore to capture, not perhaps the town of New Carthage that

night, but certainly the hearts of all the principal ladies in the

palace. And it must be owned that both her own epistle, and that

purporting to come from Hannibal, were sufficient to mislead less

self-confident schemers than Adherbal and his friends. But the heart

of the leader was full of the deepest guile, for all his apparent

simplicity, and he laid his plans before landing.

Before the arrival of the herald at the landing steps, Adherbal and

his party accordingly started from their ship also. They came in two

large boats, the first containing the four nobles, the second, some

forty men with two officers who were to form his escort. These boats

arrived simultaneously at the quay steps, where a guard of honour,

drawn up in two lines, consisting of one hundred spearmen, awaited

them and greeted them with the highest salute. When they had passed

down between the ranks, they found Elissa, with Cleandra standing a

pace behind her, and, behind them again, Gisco and other officers

waiting to receive them.

Smiling sweetly, the young girl advanced confidently to greet them.

“Welcome to New Carthage,” she said, “oh citizens of Old Carthage.”

Adherbal, bowing with all the grace for which he was famous, took her

hand and respectfully placed his forehead upon it in the Punic style;

then he presented his three companions, Imlico, Zeno, and Ariston, as

his friends, and Elissa in return presented Cleandra.

The beauty of the two ladies quite astonished the four young nobles;

but it was with their eyes only that they could speak what they felt.

CHAPTER V.

PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS.

Despite the confidence with which Hannibal’s daughter had advanced

to greet the new-comers, it is not to be supposed that she felt as

bold as she looked. Her heart was beating violently as, with a smile

upon her lips, she greeted the gorgeous strangers glittering in their

golden armour. Nor is this to be wondered at, for well she knew the

terrible risks that she ran, and the perfidy hidden in the breast of

the handsome young Adherbal, who was now gazing upon her with such

ardent admiration in his bold, piercing eyes, that, in spite of

herself, she felt herself blushing a little as she lowered her own

lids before his too evident admiration of her youthful charms.

But she speedily diverted his attention from herself by suggesting

that the nobles should follow her in their own boats to her palace

steps, saying that she would lead the way. She purposely did not ask

them to accompany her, for she wished to have time to think and talk

with Cleandra on the way home.

“What dost thou think of them, Cleandra?” she inquired, as soon as

they started.

“I think that they are all very handsome young men, and most

beautifully attired; Adherbal himself and Imlico are especially

handsome, and they seem to have pleasant ways. I do not think it

possible they can have the evil designs that we imagine.” For

Cleandra, who was young and impressionable, had been caught at once by

a few pretty compliments that the versatile Imlico had already found

time to pay her.

“Be on thy guard in spite of their pleasant ways, dear Cleandra,”

replied the younger and more prudent girl; “for what is the use of

being forewarned by Hannibal if we are not forearmed? Nothing can make

me trust them. Why, think ye, are they come hither with all their

fleet had their designs been good, instead of proceeding at once to

help Hannibal at Saguntum?”

This reply was convincing, and the rest of the way to the palace steps

was passed by the girls in silence.

Here, and about the palace itself, there was purposely, by Elissa’s

orders, but a very small guard waiting to receive them.

The Carthaginians, arriving with their two boats, noticed this fact

with satisfaction. Their leader sprang to shore in time to gallantly

offer his hand to Elissa, which she gracefully accepted, apologising

at the same time with apparent _naïveté_.

“Thou seest, General Adherbal, that we have but a poor show of

retainers with whom to welcome thee here. But the reason is plain.

Being but a woman, alone in the palace, and having ever before me the

traditions of the horrible outrages committed by the mercenaries, who

revolted in Hamilcar’s and thy father Hanno’s time, I prefer to employ

all the extra soldiers about the city walls. I only, during Hannibal’s

absence, maintain a guard of some forty men in all to protect the

approaches, the gates, and the palace itself. For what have I to

fear?”

“What, indeed?” replied Adherbal, taking the opportunity to gently

press the little hand that rested on his arm. “Where beauty and virtue

such as thine reign supreme, fair lady Elissa, what harm could come to

the palace that contains such a treasure?” And he looked into her eyes

as if he meant his words.

Elissa, paying no attention to the compliment, continued:

“I see, my lord, that thou hast some baggage with thee. We have, I

trust, despite our small retinue, enough men to spare thy followers

the trouble of disembarking it themselves, which would be but an

inhospitable proceeding. Further, our few soldiers can entertain thy

followers this evening.”

“Baggage? no, my lady Elissa, of that we have but little. Yet have I

ventured to bring ashore, as an unworthy offering to my fair hostess,

a few flagons of the most famous vintages of the old wine for which

the vineyards of Utica are famous. Wilt thou deign to accept it for

thyself and thine household?”

“Most willingly, noble Adherbal, will I accept thy kindly gift. It

will be, indeed, a pleasant change to the household after the thin

wines of Iberia; and, though we ladies are but small drinkers, we

shall look forward to pledging our noble guests in a cup ourselves

this very evening.”

Upon reaching the head of the marble stairs, the herald, who had

returned with the State barge, sounded a clarion blast. Instantly the

postern gate flew open, the sentry saluting as the party entered, to

find, standing upon the porticos of the palace awaiting them, the

Princess Cœcilia and Melania in their grandest robes, with several

pretty female slaves behind them. Adherbal exchanged with Ariston and

Zeno a meaning glance, which they both perfectly understood; but

Imlico was so taken up with Cleandra, to whom he was making violent

love, that he did not catch the leader’s meaning looks. Elissa,

however, noticed them, and explained that, as there were so few men

available, what men there were would be exclusively employed in

entertaining his own escort.

The Princess Cœcilia was all smiles. She looked, as she really was,

delighted to see some strangers of the male sex, and those strangers,

too, of such evident high rank, and wearing such gorgeous

accoutrements. She was an exceedingly good-natured, but a foolish

young woman, and she showed her folly in the extra warmth of her

welcome. Finding that none of the other three nobles seemed to respond

very much, or rather that Zeno responded much more warmly than the

others to her politeness, it was upon him chiefly that she showered

her attentions. As for Ariston, from the moment that he set eyes upon

Melania, he could look at nothing else.

The guests were promptly shown to gorgeous and most luxuriously

furnished sleeping apartments, with the intimation that a collation

awaited them, as soon as they were ready, on the west verandah. In a

short time, therefore, the nobles, all having doffed their armour,

with the exception of a dagger in a golden waist-belt, appeared in

most beautiful silken raiment, the very latest fashion from Carthage.

And just as the sun was beginning to set over the western horizon, the

eight convives sat down to a sumptuous repast, served by light-footed

female attendants. They reclined on divans at a round table, Adherbal

on the right side of Elissa, then the princess, next to her Zeno, then

Melania and Ariston, next to whom came Cleandra and Imlico.

From the situation in which Adherbal was placed, he could see the road

leading to the bridge across the isthmus, and also the far end of the

bridge itself, the nearer half being hidden by the walls. He could

also, by looking to his right, see the heights across the lagoon to

the north of the city. And although he said nothing, he noticed,

nevertheless, vaguely that there was a constant influx of troops

coming from the landward side, and that further, there was a large

encampment of tents being rapidly reared on the hills to the north.

But it did not strike him as being of any importance. He thought

merely that they were some Iberian levies. He devoted himself equally

to Elissa and the wine, which was his own, and excellent, and the more

wine he drank, the more pressing he became in his attentions to his

hostess, who, not quite understanding the customs of Carthage, very

soon felt an alarm which she took care to conceal.

Both Cleandra and Melania were also slightly alarmed as the dinner

wore on; but Cleandra, having taken two cups of wine, began to have

her head turned by the compliments and ready tongue of Imlico, who had

certainly made an impression upon her unattached affections. Melania

was far more cautious with Ariston, whom she thoroughly disliked from

the first; but the young widow, the Princess Cœcilia, made quite as

much love to Zeno as he to her, and, long before the enormous number

of courses which it was customary to serve in those days had appeared,

she had, on the pretence of feeling a little faint, risen from the

feast and taken Zeno off with her to show him the garden. And her

faintness must have lasted a long time, for she never came back! In

the meantime, course after course appeared, and the wine cup

circulated freely; but still, until darkness fell upon the land,

Adherbal could see troops marching into the city, and still he noticed

rows upon rows of tents rising on the northern hills.

At length, when all had moved away from the table, the night fell.

Adherbal had now become loving in the extreme, and clasped Elissa’s

hands in his and drew her to his side. Coyly, with a slight

resistance, she allowed herself to be so drawn, and coyly, too, but

determinedly, averted her head when he sought to embrace her. He

complained of her cruelty.

“It is too soon, my lord, too soon,” she uttered shyly. “Why, I have

not even yet known thee one whole day.” She added laughingly,

“Although I am willing to learn the manners of Carthage, I cannot

learn them quite all at once.”

The wine he had drunk made him brutal. In spite of her striving to

hold back, he held the girl closer to him and kissed her averted face.

And then by force he turned her face to him and kissed her

passionately on the lips.

Despite the loathing with which his embrace inspired her, she did not,

as she was merely acting a part, resist at all violently. He could

not, however, see the eyes gleaming with hatred in the darkness; he

only felt the warmth of the little mouth, and, as she had not

struggled much and had uttered no cry, he considered the battle was

half won already. He unmasked his battery without further delay.

“Elissa, dearest Elissa, why shouldst thou resist me? Dost thou not

know that I adore thee? I have come here from Carthage simply because

of hearing of thy charms, for by Astarte, Queen of Love! I vow that I

loved thee in advance; but hearsay is not one-thousandth part of the

reality. Beloved, come to me, for thou wilt and shalt be mine.”

With his powerful arms he clasped her to him so closely that she could

not move, while he could feel her fluttering heart beating against his

breast. She temporised, concealing her rage for fear.

“My lord,” she whispered softly, “thou knowest that I am much

flattered at having attracted thy attention thus; but still thou must

consider me and my position a little. I am supreme here at present;

and therefore what would Cleandra and Melania, who are but my slaves,

say if they could see me now? Hence, if thou lovest me as thou sayest,

yet release me, I pray thee. If thou choosest, thou canst still hold

my hand. But be cautious.”

He released her, then said abruptly and somewhat angrily:

“Very well, my pretty one, I release thee for the present, for know

this, that whether thou wilt or not, thou art mine, this palace is

mine, and the vice-royalty that thy father Hannibal hath here in

Iberia is mine. It depends simply upon how sweet and loving thou

provest thyself to me now whether I spare his life or not, for know

this, so incensed are the council of One Hundred at Carthage, and all

the people also, at his having attacked Saguntum, and so embroiled

them once more with Rome, that they have sent me here, armed with a

large force, to seize and execute him. And thou, my pretty sweetheart,

hast been decreed unto me as the reward for my trouble in coming.

Therefore, if thou wilt be sweet and loving to me, then for thy sweet

sake I will not only spare thy father’s life, but, when we get back to

Carthage together, for I could never stop long in this country of

barbarians, I will make thee my wife. ’Twere therefore wise for thee

to become my willing partner, and then all will go well.”

Elissa’s anger rose beyond all control at this insulting speech; she

could play her part no longer now.

“I will never be thine,” she said, “thou insolent hound! And as for

thy seizing Hannibal, thou canst not do it. His troops have been

marching in all the evening, and I, with my guard in the palace, can

have thee arrested now this instant if I so choose.”

“Hannibal’s troops here so soon! By Moloch! I did not imagine that

those were the troops of Hannibal that I saw marching in. There is,

indeed, no time to lose. Thou shalt be mine this very night, for thou

hast sought to entrap me, as I imagined thou mightst, for all thy

winning ways. But thou art a little young yet, Elissa, and, when I

have had thee in training for some time, thou shalt see that thou hast

much to learn from the ‘insolent hound,’ as thou so politely hast

termed me.”

“Thine to-night, faugh! Thine never! my Lord Adherbal, for know that

this night thou shalt sleep in the dungeon of the castle, for I will

have thee instantly seized. I have but to cry aloud. And to-morrow

morning thou shalt be crucified.”

“And to-morrow morning, my pretty one, my men will storm the palace,

and, unless they find me alive and well, put every inmate within it to

the sword. Not much storming will, however, be necessary, for the

gates will be opened for them. Therefore, cry aloud and see what

happens, and to-morrow morning crucify me. But in the meantime I will

hold thee as a sweet hostage here in mine arms.”

As he seized her tightly, she cried aloud:

“Gisco! Idherbal! Gisco, Gisco! Cleandra, Cleandra! Idherbal!”

She screamed in vain until she was hoarse. At the same time she could

hear Melania screaming loudly also, while from Cleandra, at the far

end of the verandah, some faint protests could be heard.

In vain did Elissa cry aloud until she was exhausted, and meanwhile

Adherbal held her and mocked her. Her plans had utterly miscarried,

and he had been more clever than she. She had given her men

instructions to make his guards drunk, and to be concealed and ready

to come to her assistance instantly when called for. She had also

ordered a reinforcement of double the usual number in the gate

guard-houses. But Adherbal, as he now calmly informed her, had

obtained possession both of the postern gate and of the other gate of

the palace. For he had made all her men within the palace, and also

the guards at the gate-houses, senseless with merely one cup apiece of

drugged wine, brought from the ship for the purpose, which his

attendants had orders to offer them. All, therefore, were now lying

bound and helpless. As for her women, they had been seized and bound

by his men more than an hour ago. Never had there been such a

miscarrying of a deeply-laid plan, for not even her manœuvre of

making Hannibal’s troops appear to march in had alarmed him.

The poor girl now struggled and fought with the desperation of

despair. All the while she could hear Melania’s cries becoming weaker

and weaker; but Cleandra’s voice was no longer heard. Eventually

Adherbal stifled her cries with his hand. When she was utterly

exhausted, he lifted her in his arms, and with brutal kisses,

accompanied by sarcastic speeches, he triumphantly bore her off

towards his own apartments in the palace.

As with ease he carried off the now half-fainting girl in his arms, he

met some of his own guards, who, having heard the cries, came forward,

staggering with drink, from the back part of the palace.

“Begone instantly, you fools!” he cried; “have ye not both wine and

women enough to amuse ye? see that ye disturb me not again.”

The guards shrank back abashed, and Adherbal passed on with his

burden, Elissa realising in the agony of despair, with what senses she

still had left, that she was utterly helpless in the ruffian’s power.

And then she fell into a swoon.

CHAPTER VI.

CLEANDRA’S CUNNING.

It is not to be supposed that Imlico had been wooing Cleandra in the

rough and ready fashion that Adherbal, his leader, had adopted; but he

had been more successful. For he had found the pretty young Spanish

maiden like the tow which needed only the smallest spark to set it on

fire, and which blazed outright when touched with a flame.

For Cleandra not only came of the passionate Spanish race, but was a

flirt by nature; and owing to the eight months’ siege of Saguntum,

which had taken all the men away, was utterly tired of being without a

gallant. Moreover, it must be admitted that she was a cunning and

scheming young woman; and, therefore, speedily saw in the handsome,

good-natured, and jovial young noble Imlico a tool ready to her hand

wherewith to execute a project that she had long had in her heart.

This was nothing more nor less than to escape from New Carthage and

Hannibal’s household altogether. For, although Elissa loved her, and

usually treated her more like a sister than a slave, yet slave she

was, and her proud nature could not forget that circumstance. She well

remembered that when but a little girl of twelve, Hasdrubal had

stormed her father’s chief city, killed her father, and took her

mother and herself captive. Her mother had only survived for a year or

two. Hasdrubal had then kept the girl as his slave until she was

seventeen. Then, some two years before his assassination by a Celt, in

revenge for some private wrong, he had given her to Hannibal, whose

sister was Hasdrubal’s first wife, as a companion for his daughter

Elissa. Thus, although at heart personally attached to Elissa,

Cleandra had no love for the family of Hannibal, through whose

relative she had suffered, especially as, notwithstanding her high

birth, she was yet considered by the household as a slave. Therefore,

with her object in view, she did her utmost to bewitch Imlico, whose

handsome bearing she really admired.

Although the associate of Adherbal and Ariston, Imlico was not only

much younger, but a man of less determinedly bad principles than they.

In short, he had a good heart; while he had no objection to taking

love where he could find it, and that without burdening himself with

many scruples, yet he did not at all approve of the villainous scheme

suggested by the others, to bend the ladies to their will by force, or

by fraud, or by a combination of both. He was, however, in a minority,

and kept his feelings to himself for fear of the personal danger which

he knew he would run had he dared to so much as hint at them.

And now as he wandered away with Cleandra in the faint light of a

young moon, across the garden where the fire-flies flitted from bush

to bush, and the air was redolent of the sweet odour of the orange

blossoms, he felt himself falling deeply in love with the beautiful

and high-bred girl by his side, about whose unresisting waist he wound

his arm. And, apart from the scheme she had at heart, Cleandra in turn

felt a strong sympathy for young Imlico, which, with the drowsy

langour of the scented air, grew stronger every minute. And when at

length they stood upon the battlements and looked out upon the sea,

she readily yielded her lips to his ardent embrace.

Cleandra was absolutely in Elissa’s confidence, and knew her

deeply-laid plans, and did not for a moment think that Hannibal’s

daughter, or the other three ladies, were in any other danger than

that of their own seeking. She had, therefore, smiled inwardly when

the foolish little princess had, like herself, wandered away in the

earlier part of the evening, doubtless to find a shelter and indulge

in a flirtation in one of the shady summer-houses in the garden. But

knowing Elissa’s plans, she imagined that it was Adherbal and his

companions who were in danger, not only of present captivity, but of

crucifixion, and it did not, from any point of view, at all suit her

that this handsome young noble, with whom she had so rapidly fallen in

love, should be either a captive or crucified. Therefore, although she

did not intend to betray Elissa, she determined to make use of her

plans for her own advantage, and the opportunity for so doing was not

long in coming.

Imlico had just made her an ardent declaration. He vowed by all the

gods that he adored her, and urged her to fly with him to his ship on

the morrow’s morn.

“I will gladly fly with thee, Imlico,” replied the maiden, looking

with burning glances into his eyes, “if thou wilt swear by Melcareth

and Moloch to reveal nothing that I tell thee, to do exactly as I

direct thee, and not to quit me for a moment. Then not only will I fly

with thee, but that not to-morrow’s morn, but this very night.”

Enraptured, the enamoured young man pledged himself by the most solemn

oaths to reveal nothing, and to follow her bidding exactly.

“Then listen closely, Imlico. I will fly with thee this very night

simply to save thine own life, for it is in danger should thou stay an

hour later here. For all the plot upon which ye are come hither is

known, and before this time to-morrow thou and thy three companions

are to be crucified upon this very battlement. Dost thou see the row

of crosses beyond? They have been erected this evening on purpose for

ye. They were not there when we rowed back from the harbour entrance

this afternoon. The guards are but waiting the order to seize ye all.”

In spite of himself, Imlico started back and shuddered when he now

saw, for the first time, the gruesome preparations for his own

execution. But he speedily recovered himself with a laugh, and taking

the plump Cleandra in his arms, kissed her heartily.

“By Astarte! thou didst give me a fright, little one, for the minute,

but I thank thee for thy confidence and kindly interest in myself. And

now confidence for confidence. Know this then, that Elissa and all of

you women in this palace are, indeed, in danger if you will, saving

only thyself, for thee I would not harm. But we Carthaginian nobles

and our followers are in no danger from thy guards, and I will even

now prove it to thee. Let us advance to where yonder sentinel is

pacing by the postern gateway. We will stroll by him, and, when he

challenges, thou shalt reply and give the password. Then thou shalt

see who is in danger.”

With the girl on his arm, Imlico rapidly paced along the battlements

to the sentry, who cried out:

“Halt! Let one only advance and give the countersign.”

Imlico pushed his fair companion, who boldly advanced and said,

“Saguntum,” which was the password arranged in the palace for the

night.

“’Tis the wrong password,” answered the sentinel, lowering his spear

point towards her. “Thou canst not pass.”

Imlico laughingly now advanced in turn.

“The lady hath made a mistake, oh sentry. Carthage is the password she

would have given.”

“Pass Carthage, and all’s well,” replied the guard, and so they passed

in.

It was now Cleandra’s turn to shudder and start. “What? have the

guards been changed?” she asked, “and the countersign?”

“Ay, that have they, fair Cleandra; and further know this that ye have

not now a single man fit for duty within the whole palace walls, for

all thy guards are by this time drugged, senseless, or bound. Thou

seest clearly now that none of Elissa’s guests are in any danger,

to-night at all events.”

Cleandra now thought of the story about Hannibal’s troops marching in,

which had been merely an arranged plan, by which the same troops

should appear over and over again. For it will be remembered that

these troops could only be seen from the palace when descending on to

the landward end of the bridge by the big gate of the city. So the

troops that had been employed had marched across the bridge, then

embarked in boats, followed up the city walls, crossed the lagoon, and

then marching up a winding little pass that lay between the hills, had

shown themselves again. And the best of the arrangement had been that

all the mercenaries in the ships had, until dark fell, also noticed

these troops arriving continually as if from Saguntum, for they saw

them plainly crossing the top of a hill. In her need, for she wished

to frighten Imlico, Cleandra made use of this plot.

“Ay, if thus by fraud the palace is Adherbal’s, then thou art safe for

to-night, my good friend, Imlico. But didst thou not notice all the

troops that were continually marching over the bridge while yet we

were at table? They were the advance guard of a large portion of

Hannibal’s forces that are being sent back from Saguntum. Many more

will arrive to-morrow morn. Canst thou not see, glistening in the

moonlight, the tents that have been erected for them on yonder eastern

hill. This palace, therefore, even if held by thy few men, will be

easily recaptured, and thou and all thine will most undoubtedly be

crucified. Therefore thou must fly to-night. But now let us go back to

the verandah, for Elissa may have sore need of me ere I go, and I

would save her if I could. It grieves me sadly to leave her, but I

feel that in thee I have found the man I love, and I would save thy

life, while her life, at all events, is not in danger. But without me

thou wilt never pass alive the guards stationed at the harbour mouth.

With me thou art safe.”

Imlico was now thoroughly alert; the girl had convinced him of his

great danger. It was just when they had reached the end of the

verandah that Elissa had commenced to scream under Adherbal’s brutal

grasp, and Melania likewise in the clutch of Ariston.

Then Cleandra had begged Imlico to allow her to fly to the young

girl’s assistance, but he had restrained her. These were the protests

that Elissa had heard.

“Let me go, let me go, Imlico! I will save her from the brute! and

Melania is in danger also.”

“Let thee go? Never! They are in the danger that all pretty young

women run, ’tis true; but what is that to thee or me? Man is man and

woman woman, and no one seeks their lives, while shouldst thou

foolishly interfere at this inopportune moment thy life will surely

pay the forfeit, for both Adherbal and Ariston are brutes when their

passions are aroused, and would surely slay thee. Stay here, I say,

with me, for with me alone thou art safe. Thou shalt stay,” and

forcibly he detained her.

Thus Cleandra was the unwilling witness of Elissa’s abduction, and

also heard the brutal attack made by Ariston on Melania.

Ariston had drunk himself into a state of utter intoxication, and was

absolutely careless of what he was doing. He saw Adherbal carrying

Elissa off in his arms and strove to emulate his example. But Melania

was very tall and strong and made a most vigorous resistance, which

Ariston was unable to overcome. Whereupon, with brutal ferocity, he

attempted to half strangle her, for he did not by any means intend to

kill her. He very nearly succeeded in his foul attempt, but suddenly

Cleandra, who was still being forcibly detained by Imlico, heard a

groan and the sound of a fall. Tearing herself from her companion, she

rushed forward and found both Ariston and Melania lying prostrate on

the floor of the verandah. In the struggle that had taken place the

couple had moved into the light of the lamp hanging in the doorway,

and there they had fallen.

A gruesome sight it was that now met Cleandra’s eyes. His throat

transfixed with a small dagger, which Melania had worn that evening

through her hair, Ariston was lying, not dead, but open-eyed and

speechless, with a stream of blood flowing slowly from his neck.

Alongside him, with raiment sadly torn and disordered, lay Melania,

unconscious and death-like, with discoloured face and frothy blood

upon her lips. Cleandra screamed loudly, and would have fallen, too,

had not Imlico, rushing forward, caught her swaying form in his arms.

As she fell weeping upon her knees by the side of Melania, Imlico,

whom this tragedy had alarmed, begged her to be firm, as immediate

action was necessary if either or both of them were to be saved, and

he urged upon her the necessity of instant flight.

Although Cleandra had fully made up her mind to escape that night, she

was not prepared to go without seeing Elissa again, or making some

attempt, she knew not what, to save her. Suddenly she leapt to her

feet and wiped her tears, as an idea sprung to her mind, and her nerve

came back.

“Wait here,” she said to Imlico; “thou hast sworn to obey my

directions. Shouldst thou fail in thy word, count not then on me to

save thy life, for it is doomed! Therefore wait for me here by the

doorway. Strive to restore Melania, lift her up against the pillar,

and give her air.”

She sprung within, and rushed to the room where Maharbal had been left

lying on his couch, senseless when she had seen him last. To her joy

she found him now perfectly conscious, with eyes not only open but

intelligent. Pale he looked, indeed, and weak, but he was a man--the

only man who could be stirred to action in the whole place. It would

not matter, so Cleandra thought, what should happen to him after,

could he but prove of use to Elissa now. She took his sword and thrust

it into his hands.

“Maharbal,” she said, “Elissa hath just been borne off into his

apartment by Adherbal, who arrived here to-day. There may yet be time

to save her, but Melania hath been slain while struggling with his

companion, Ariston. Canst thou move? I will show thee the room. Thou

hast perchance yet strength to rise and use this weapon.”

Maharbal bounded from his couch, his eyes on fire.

“Only show me the room, Cleandra, show me, quick!” He staggered as he

rose from the couch, but Cleandra steadied him with her arm.

“This way,” she said, and he followed her, still leaning on her

shoulder, and collecting his shattered wits and strength. She

proceeded direct to Adherbal’s apartment, and, pausing for a second,

said rapidly, “Maharbal, I am powerless to help Elissa further, and

now it is for thee to do so if there be yet time. The palace and the

palace gates are both in the hands of Adherbal’s people, but I am

escaping with Imlico, one of his nobles, simply and solely as a means

of alarming the troops on guard outside, who will come to the rescue.

Meanwhile, thou must act.”

She opened the door, only to see Elissa all dishevelled in the arms of

Adherbal, and fainting on a couch. He was fanning her face, and

apparently striving to restore her. She opened her eyes at that

instant with returning consciousness. She saw and recognised Cleandra

and Maharbal. A gleam of hope sprung to the wretched young girl’s

eyes.

“Maharbal,” she cried faintly, “Maharbal! save me! avenge me!”

Maharbal sprang upon Adherbal, who, snatching up his dagger from the

side of the couch, where it had fallen, turned to meet him with the

angry growl of a tiger, but of a tiger who has been baulked of his

prey.

In a second Maharbal struck down his foe with a terrible blow, which

almost severed his right arm at the shoulder. A second later his sword

was at his throat.

“No,” cried Elissa, springing up, her bosom exposed, and hair wildly

tossed about. “Slay him not now, think of the outrage he hath put upon

me. Reserve him for crucifixion. Think what an insult he hath put upon

me, who love thee; to me, Elissa, Hannibal’s daughter.”

“Yes, crucify the villain, Maharbal,” cried Cleandra also, “and

Ariston likewise, if he be alive to-morrow, which I doubt. As for

Zeno, I know not what the princess hath done with him. Hold now thy

sword at his throat, while I bind him with these curtain ropes, and

gag him with this ’kerchief. There, that is done. Now leave him here

and lock the door, and do thou, Maharbal, and thou, Elissa, stay

together in Maharbal’s apartment. Come thither quickly, draw in

Melania, and barricade the door if ye would live throughout the night.

As for me, Elissa, I must leave thee now and for ever, although my

first object in flying from thee and slavery will be to send immediate

relief to thee and Maharbal. This I can do by escaping with Imlico,

whom I have won over to me. With him I can pass the few sentinels that

Adherbal hath placed on the walls, and I have arranged a plan in my

mind, so that upon my arriving at the harbour entrance, I can send

some of our men, who will obtain admission at once. For I will give

them the Carthaginian password, which I know, and, on leaving, I will

make Imlico tell the sentinel at the postern gate to expect some of

Adherbal’s troops to arrive shortly.

“Another thing I can do for thee and New Carthage through Imlico. It

is this, I can carry out the plot on the lines of thy two letters to

Adherbal, and so induce the fleet, partly from fear of Hannibal’s

army, partly by greed and hope of gain, to leave for Saguntum at once.

And now farewell, Elissa. Do not think hardly of me for flying with

Imlico. Think that I was the woman who, through Maharbal’s right arm

and with the help of the great god Melcareth, was the means of saving

thine honour. Here then stay now for safety in Maharbal’s apartment. I

will first bid Imlico bring in to ye Melania, and then I will depart.

She hath, I rejoice to say, wounded the scoundrel Ariston sorely with

her dagger; yet I trust he may live for the cross to-morrow, since he

thoroughly deserves it.”

Cleandra now returned to Imlico, and, enjoining silence, made him bear

the body of Melania, who still appeared perfectly lifeless, into

Maharbal’s room. Then she and Elissa fell upon each other’s necks and

parted with tears of sorrow.

Seizing Imlico by the arm, Cleandra passed with him swiftly to the

postern gate, where her lover gave the password “Carthage,” and told

the sentinel to shortly expect some troops, and to admit them.

At the bottom of the staircase the crew of the State galley were

sleeping. These she aroused and ordered to man the boat, as she was on

pressing business of their mistress Elissa, Regent and Governor of New

Carthage. And as they all knew her, they made no difficulty about

complying.

Speedily and in silence did she and Imlico proceed to the south

entrance to the harbour, where, on giving “Saguntum” as the watchword,

she was able to land and see the officer in command at that point. To

him she confided the whole position of affairs, and after ordering him

in Elissa’s name instantly to proceed with a body of men to the rescue

of those in the palace, and giving him the watchword “Carthage”

wherewith to effect an entrance, she re-embarked in the State barge,

and rowed off to the flagship with Imlico. There the arrangements that

she made through her lover and the reports which she spread were such

that, when dawn broke, there was considerable consternation throughout

the fleet. For they learned that Adherbal was a prisoner, and likewise

Zeno and Ariston, and that an enormous encampment had been raised upon

the eastern hills during the night. Moreover, in accordance with

Elissa’s cunning design, musical instruments and bugles were sounding,

while all the small body of men available for the purpose were

constantly moving up and down in front of the first row of tents in

the camp.

The men on the fleet, and indeed Imlico himself, were easily convinced

that a large force of Hannibal’s had actually come in. The

mercenaries, therefore, now deprived of their leader, were not at all

disposed to attack the city; but, on the other hand, being fired with

the accounts they had overheard the previous evening of the capture of

the enormous spoil at Saguntum, news of which had spread all through

the fleet, were anxious to go off and join Hannibal himself, and share

in the booty of the place. When, further, an hour or two after

daybreak, two of the crucifixes upon the walls of the palace, which

were plainly visible from the fleet, were seen to be first lowered and

then raised again, each with the body of a man attached, consternation

fell upon all the mercenaries. For they knew that these human forms

must be those of Adherbal and one of his attendants. As a matter of

fact, they actually were Adherbal and Ariston, who were thus paying

the penalty for their brutal crimes. As for Zeno of Rhodes, he was

spared at the supplication of the Princess Cœcilia, and merely, with

all Adherbal’s men, confined as a prisoner in the dungeons. Without

waiting for any orders now, every ship commenced preparations to make

sail.

Cleandra had no intention whatever of going herself to Saguntum, where

she would certainly have been seized by Hannibal as his runaway slave.

She therefore impressed upon Imlico the great risk that he would

himself run if he arrived without any letter to prove to the great

commander his innocence of complicity in Adherbal’s crimes, and seeing

his danger, he readily listened to her advice. He disembarked all of

the mercenaries on board the flagship, and sent them off in

detachments to the other ships in the fleet. He then, having promised

large sums of money to the ship’s captain, the officers, and the crew,

persuaded them to turn her head the other way, and to set all sail for

Carthage. And by the time of their arrival at the port of that queen

of all the cities of the seas, Cleandra had obtained such an

ascendancy over her lover’s somewhat weak mind, and he was, moreover,

himself so infatuated with her, that, upon landing, he made her his

lawful wife.

And thus, by the nerve and well-designed plans of Elissa, coupled with

the cunning and cleverness of Cleandra, was the honour of Hannibal’s

daughter saved, and a great plot against Hannibal himself brought to

nought.

CHAPTER VII.

MELANIA’S MISERY.

Hannibal was not long in learning at Saguntum of what had taken

place in New Carthage, and was in possession, in most accurate detail,

of all the facts from Elissa’s own pen, before the fleet, laden with

the mercenaries, arrived. She had, at the end of her letter, added

that Melania’s recovery, after being despaired of, was now assured.

Hannibal was particularly pleased with Maharbal’s conduct, and gave

orders that he was to be appointed at once to the command of the

Numidian Cavalry, while the proceeds of the sale of a large portion of

the spoil of Saguntum, and half-a-dozen splendid chargers which had

been taken from the enemy, were also to be despatched to him in New

Carthage. For Elissa had informed her father that, owing to his

exertions, the young man’s wound had broken out bleeding afresh, and

that he was not able to move from the palace, nor could he for some

time to come.

Hannibal would not have been the great general and leader of men that

he was if he had not been remarkably astute. His intuition was so

great, that he could, so to speak, see the end of a book before

another man had finished reading the title-page. In all the years he

warred in Iberia, Gaul, Italy, and Carthage, and in all the alliances

he made with tribes once hostile to him, never was there a single

conspiracy made against his life, though assassination and treachery

were common; from which it must be concluded, that he could read well

the characters of the men with whom he had to deal, and knew how best

to deal with them.

When he read through his daughter’s letter, he was with his two

younger brothers. He indulged freely in curses against Adherbal and

all his crew, especially the treacherous party of Hanno, now paramount

in Carthage. But when he read that Maharbal was not able to leave the

palace, he burst out laughing violently.

“What art thou laughing at, Hannibal?” quoth Mago, the younger of his

two brothers, and a great personal friend of Maharbal. “I see nothing

to laugh at in the fact of Maharbal’s being still a sufferer, owing to

his having been the saviour of thy daughter and my niece’s honour. It

seems to have been a case of touch and go, and he, with Cleandra’s

aid--whose freedom, by the bye, should now be granted--undoubtedly

saved her in the very nick of time. I think it is no laughing matter

that a good soldier and good fellow like Maharbal should be still so

dangerously ill.”

“Thou young simpleton,” answered Hannibal, “canst not see through it?

I, at all events, know Elissa, the little minx, and that she is in

love with the young giant, and perceive clearly that now she maketh

him out far worse than he is on purpose to keep him nigh her. I saw

the wound he had; ’twas nothing serious for a man of his physique. Had

it been so, I would never have despatched him on that tremendous ride.

But if we heed not, where that rascally scoundrel Adherbal failed to

succeed by force, Maharbal will, although he is the very soul of

honour, win in spite of himself; for in her gratitude, she will throw

herself into his arms whether he will or no; if, indeed, she hath not

done so already, for she hath the passionate nature of her Spanish

mother. And then we may have to marry them, which I, for one, do not

at all wish, for, in my opinion, Maharbal married will be a good

soldier ruined. As regards Elissa herself, I should not mind, for,

seeing his birth and breeding, she could scarcely do better, yet, for

the sake of the country, I might perchance wed her to some king.

Still, I say that I can always marry them later should it be found

advisable.

“But pay attention, my brothers. I have such an enterprise in my head,

which I have not yet informed you of, that I want with me no married

men with young wives left at home to think about. So I fear that I

must spoil my daughter Elissa’s little scheme, no matter at what stage

things may be; although, since I love her very sincerely, I grieve to

give her pain. But for the reasons I have mentioned they must be

separated. Therefore, can either of you devise a scheme which will,

without hurting either Elissa’s honour or her self-respect, separate

her completely, and make her throw over Maharbal of her own accord,

cause her to do it, too, in such a manner that he will from his own

feelings of pride wish to have no more to do with her?”

Hasdrubal, the elder brother, who was cunning, now answered with a

quiet smile:

“Well, it is unkind to Maharbal certainly; but he is a good soldier,

and should not be spoilt as thou sayst, and I can give thee the cue,

Hannibal. But it would grieve Elissa, and since I love the girl, I

think that for her own protection she would be better married. So,

perhaps, I had better keep the idea to myself, and let her marry him.”

“No, no,” answered Hannibal determinedly. “I will have no marriage, I

tell thee, Hasdrubal. What is thy plan?”

“Oh, well, it is simple enough. Thou art sending to Maharbal money,

thou art sending him horses; but thou hast forgotten he is entitled to

yet another share of the spoil, thou hast sent him no slaves. Now,

methinks, if thou wert to send him one of the most beautiful of these

beautiful young Greek girls that we have captured, Elissa’s pride and

jealousy would cause her to throw him over at once. I have, among my

share of spoils, got so many of them that I do not know what to do

with them all. I came across this morning, for the first time, a most

lovely maiden of some sixteen summers, named, I think, Chloe. By the

goddess Tanais and all her mysteries, she is a gem indeed, this Chloe;

why not then send her to Maharbal with thy greeting, Hannibal, and the

trick is done at once? The pretty child was weeping as though she had

lost a lover, and Maharbal might perchance console her.”

“Is that all?” answered Hannibal, with a sneer. “Oh, my clever brother

Hasdrubal, be assured that Maharbal would, after acknowledging the

gift, sell her on the following morning to the highest bidder, or give

her to Elissa herself to show his constancy, as he would have a right

to do. No, that will not do; we must think of something better than

thy Chloe.”

“I have it, then,” interposed Mago. “Who is there in all thy court at

New Carthage so handsome and beautiful, so clever and cunning, as that

tall, dark girl, Melania, daughter of Mandonius, the brother of the

king of the Ilergetes, the girl who has been lately so nearly killed?

We all know that she would give her very eyes for Maharbal, so why not

make a present of her to him? he would soon have to love her in spite

of himself--for like begets like. Nothing, moreover, would sooner

create a breach between Maharbal and Elissa, than to give him a girl

whom she has been accustomed to look upon as her own slave, and of

whom she is, if I am not mistaken, a little jealous already.”

“Stay a moment,” replied the great General. “I believe, Mago, that

thou hast hit the right nail on the head this time. I have had brought

to me, but secretly, by the very same messenger that brought Elissa’s

letter, a letter from the girl herself. I threw it on one side

thinking that it was merely some petition for freedom of the usual

kind, but there may be something more in it. Let us see--I have it

over there. As my wound incommodes me, wilt thou bring it hither,

brother, and open it?”

Mago opened and read it to himself before handing it to Hannibal. As

he concluded he gave a low whistle.

“Indeed, oh, Hannibal, my brother, I have, while striking at random,

hit the right nail on the head this time even as thou saidst. I will

read the letter aloud, and thou shalt judge if this will not exactly

suit thee. And, further, not only will Maharbal not be able to refuse,

but I, his friend, am by no means anxious to commiserate with him, for

I consider him a very lucky fellow indeed. In fact, in spite of all my

Greek slaves, I quite envy him his good fortune. For I would not mind

being in his shoes myself.”

“Read the letter,” quoth Hannibal.

Mago read as follows:--

“In the name of the Goddess Tanais, the Queen of Carthage, the Queen

of Love, the Queen of the Seas, Greeting.

“From Melania, daughter of Mandonius, brother of the King Andobales,

King of Central Iberia, to Hannibal, son of Hamilcar.

“My lord Hannibal, thou wilt have heard the news, how that Elissa and

I were in the hands of two ruffianly nobles from Carthage, both since

duly crucified by the mercy of Moloch the great god of sacrifice, and

how we both narrowly escaped grievous wrong. My lord, our salvation

and the salvation of New Carthage was only due to the timely arrival

of Maharbal, the son of Manissa, brother to King Syphax of Numidia. He

saved Elissa and cut down her aggressor Adherbal. His watchful care

over myself hath also saved me from the very jaws of death, for I was

almost strangled by the ruffian Ariston of Carthage; but he hath

watched me like a brother, and I am, thanks to him, restored.

“My lord Hannibal, in this thy palace Maharbal is beloved of all the

women for his bravery, his devotion to thyself, and his manly

strength; above all one loveth him, even Elissa. Pardon, I pray thee,

the humble supplication of thy servant Melania, but methinks that it

would be well, seeing her high position, if so be thy will, that thou

shouldst cause them to wed shortly. Thus will they be made happy, and

the report of evil tongues be stayed. Further there can, once this be

accomplished, be no more heart-burnings and jealousies among the

foolish women here about thy palace, which said heart-burnings are apt

to cause dissensions. Especially the Princess Cœcilia would be no

longer able to annoy the Lady Elissa as she doth now by her folly

about the young man. My lord, I love Elissa as I respect her, and it

is in her interests and for the honour of thy name that I have dared

to mention these things, therefore I pray thee forgive thy slave.

“But lest thou shouldst imagine, oh my lord Hannibal, that there is no

due cause for this letter, then know this, that there are other and

weightier reasons which impel me to write. Although thy slave, thou

hast ever treated me as thy daughter’s friend, and such indeed I am,

the friend of thy house.

“Therefore know this, I have been lately in frequent communication

with my younger sisters, the daughters of Mandonius. From them I have

learned that great discontent exists against thee and thy government

on the part of both my father Mandonius and his brother Andobales,

king of the Ilergetes, formerly despot of all Central Iberia. One

cause, but only one cause out of many for this discontent, is that I

am still retained a slave, and they fancy that I am not happy in thy

household. My lord Hannibal, couldst thou take steps to assure them of

my complete content and happiness, and shouldst thou see fit to send

me with a suitable escort on a mission to the court of Andobales, it

is my belief that I could easily attach both mine uncle Andobales and

my father Mandonius firmly to thine own person and to the cause of

Carthage. My lord, I know more than I have committed to paper,

therefore I pray thee forgive the boldness in thus addressing thee of

thy slave

“Melania.”

Both Hannibal and Hasdrubal his brother smiled when this letter was

ended, and the former remarked:

“Ay, Mago, my lad, I see it, despite all the girl’s cunning. She is

indeed a clever girl, and she wants me to give her to Maharbal, and by

Melcareth! she shall have her wish, for she can be useful, ay, indeed

more than useful to me at the present juncture. I have sore need of

the close alliance of the whole of the Ilergetes and of all the great

tribes dependant upon them, for we shall not long be left alone in

Iberia, since the Romans will soon be sending their legions here. And

this girl can win us this alliance as she saith. But for all that I

will not give her her liberty, nay, nor marry her to Maharbal, for he

certainly shall not marry her if I let him not wed Elissa; further, I

would keep a hold on the girl. But for the interests of the State I

will, as she desireth, make her happy. I will therefore give her to

Maharbal, at all events for the time being. He shall leave the palace

at New Carthage, and whether he will or no shall take her to live with

him, with the understanding given to her by me that she is to be

considered as his affianced wife, to be wedded and set free when I see

fit. If that will not make her happy, then I am not named Hannibal. I

am not, alas! so sure of Maharbal himself, nor of Elissa. But reasons

of State ever are paramount, and all must bend to my will or suffer

for it.”

And Hannibal frowned deeply at the mere idea of being thwarted in any

way.

“No one dare oppose thy will, brother,” said Hasdrubal, “for thou art

king here absolutely; although thou wearest not the crown thou couldst

any day, an thou would, place it upon thy brow. Thy plan is a good one

as I see it. For it will firstly have the effect of separating Elissa

from Maharbal; secondly, it will prevent the latter from marrying at

all; thirdly, thou canst send the girl Melania under the escort of

Maharbal himself to the court of King Andobales, and she can point to

him as her affianced husband. That will more than content these

barbarians, especially when they know how highly he stands in thy

favour, and that he is, leaving his high connections on one side,

commander of all the Numidian Cavalry.”

“It shall be done without delay,” said the chief. “Call in my faithful

Greek friend and scribe, Silenus; he shall write the necessary letters

for us. He hath a cunning hand hath Silenus, and knoweth well how to

convey an order so that it is thoroughly understood, yet seemeth but

intended as a favour. But at all events, Maharbal shall not marry, and

to my mind Elissa is too young to be married yet. Further, she may be

useful to the State later.”

These reflections he added meditatively, as if sorry for the blow that

he was about to inflict upon his daughter.

Then Silenus, who was ever Hannibal’s closest friend, and who

accompanied him in all his wanderings, was called in, and three

letters were written--to Elissa, Maharbal, and Melania respectively,

all carefully worded.

In about a week the courier bearing the letters arrived at New

Carthage, where they caused considerable stir and many heart-burnings.

That to Elissa, after conveying the warmest praise for her conduct,

intimated the speedy arrival of Hannibal himself, and then referred to

Maharbal. Of him the Commander-in-Chief said, that since he was the

only officer in the whole of the Carthaginian army of those who had

served before Saguntum who had no female slaves, and that Elissa

herself being unmarried and Maharbal residing in the palace with her,

some talk was being bandied about the camp which were best suppressed,

therefore, Hannibal considered it best that Maharbal should leave the

palace forthwith, and as he seemed not yet wholly recovered from his

wound, that he should take Melania with him to watch him until his

recovery. Further, Hannibal intimated to his daughter that, as there

were reasons of State for this arrangement, he trusted to her duty,

even if she should herself have formed any attachment for the young

man, to offer no opposition to her father’s projects. The letter ended

with instructions to send the unfortunate Zeno and the captive guards

of Adherbal to perpetual slavery in the silver mines.

To Maharbal were conveyed the warmest thanks and praise of his

Commander-in-Chief, an intimation of his promotion, and of the

despatch to him of much gold and many horses; further, a deed of gift

conveying to him a house belonging to Hannibal, situated near the

citadel. He was also informed that, as a reward for his bravery and

devotion, Melania was appointed to be his companion, and, although

Hannibal would himself not resign his own vested rights in her, she

was to be considered in all other respects as his slave. Finally,

Hannibal enjoined upon Maharbal that, for reasons of his own, he

expected him to do all in his power to make Melania happy in every

respect; also the necessity of his impressing upon everyone that

Melania was not merely his slave but his affianced bride, to be wedded

when his commander should see fit.

In a kindly-worded note, in Hannibal’s own hand on a separate paper,

the contents of which he was enjoined to keep to himself, Maharbal was

informed that he need be in no fear of being plunged into any

immediate wedlock, for that Hannibal had no intention of having any of

his superior officers married for a long time to come, not, at all

events, before certain work of great importance that he had in hand

should be completed.

Before the arrival of these letters, Maharbal and Elissa had been

living in a state of halcyon bliss, the only disturbing element to

cause any trouble having been the foolish little Princess Cœcilia,

who, with her mania for flirtation, had been incessantly casting eyes

at the young Colossus, and indeed making love to him very openly. For

she was dying to get married again, and had conceived the idea of

marrying Maharbal himself. As for Melania, she had suffered greatly

for some days after her escape, and had, during the days that

Maharbal, sick himself, had tended her like a brother, in no wise ever

allowed her feelings to get the upper hand of her self-constraint, nor

allowed her inward devotion and passionate attachment to him to appear

outwardly. As Elissa had also been kindness itself to her, she had,

indeed, during those days of sore sickness, resolved to subdue self

entirely, and to banish from her heart the love she bore to the

gallant officer of the Numidian Horse. Thus it had been solely with

the intention of striving to make her two benefactors happy, while

removing temptation from herself, that she had secretly written as she

had done in the first part of her letter to Hannibal. The latter part

spoke for itself. But her self-abnegation had been utterly

misunderstood by the great commander and his brothers, who had quite

misjudged her, with the result that is known.

The letter that she received herself came to her as a surprise. No

mention was made of the letter that she had sent to Hannibal, but his

to her commenced by saying that he expected shortly to have need of

her services on an important matter; that he regretted to hear of the

danger she had been in, and that he rejoiced at her escape, and at the

condign punishment of her aggressor.

Then the letter continued, that Hannibal, ever mindful of the

happiness of those who had done good service to the State, had not

forgotten her or Maharbal, and was anxious to make them both happy.

Therefore, since Maharbal had not, in the usual fashion of the army,

any female slave living with him, and as he was universally well

spoken of by men and women alike, he had decreed that, for the

present, she was to remove herself from the palace, and to reside with

Maharbal in the house which he himself was going to give him as a

residence. Further, that she was not to consider that she was being

treated lightly in this matter, although she was undoubtedly at

present a slave, nor was she to consider herself merely in the same

light as any other slave-girl who might be the temporary mistress of

the home of one of the nobles in the Carthaginian army. For Hannibal,

bearing the greatest good-will to both Maharbal and herself, and

recognising that, from her birth, she was in a position to be his

wife, had decreed that, while under Maharbal’s roof, Melania was to be

considered and treated as his affianced bride. She was informed that

the actual marriage should take place at such time, as, in the opinion

of Hannibal, it conveniently might, and that, at the same time, her

freedom would be conferred upon her.

The letter ended: “Thou art to show unto Maharbal this my letter unto

thee, and show it further to my daughter, Elissa, Regent and Governor

of New Carthage.”

The terribly mixed feelings with which Melania read this letter caused

her poor fluttering heart to beat as though her bosom would burst.

There was no joy she longed for in life more than to become all in all

to Maharbal, although, alas! she well knew that he did not love her,

but only loved Elissa. Thus, despite her love, she hated the idea of

being compelled to live under his roof as his wife, for this was very

plainly the General’s intention. Again, she knew how Maharbal himself

would take the matter, and she dreaded his scorn and neglect. She also

feared the anger and revenge of which she might be the sufferer at the

hands of Elissa, whose ardent love for Maharbal she well knew, for she

had seen it indulged in openly and unrestrainedly by the young girl

before her very eyes. For Elissa, with all the thoughtless folly of

youth, had never considered her slave’s presence when with the

glorious young Apollo, her own sun god.

Sooth to say, there was no such man as Maharbal in all the lands of

Carthagena or of Iberia. He was, indeed, a very Adonis for beauty,

with all the strength of a Hercules. It was no wonder that he was

beloved by maids and matrons alike, for in face, form, and disposition

he was in all points a man for a woman to worship.

The wretched Melania in her despair knew not what to do. When nearly

mad with thinking, she eventually sent a maiden with the letter to

Maharbal and Elissa when they were together. And then, leaving a note

in her apartment saying that she was departing for ever, and that it

would be useless to seek her, she fled from the town; walking as one

distraught, not knowing what she would do, but simply with the idea of

taking away her own life in some way. For, from whatever aspect she

looked at it, she could not face the situation. While passing the

guard house and crossing the bridge leading to the mainland, she met

many people who knew her, and who saluted her. She looked at them

vaguely without seeing them, and passed on. They thought from her

dazed expression that she had gone mad. And so, in fact, the poor girl

had in a way. Vaguely still, she wandered on until she took a little

by-road that led up into an interminable cork and hazel forest, that

covered the whole of the mountain-side. As she was ascending the hill,

she met a man whom she had quite recently befriended, an old soldier

who had had his leg broken in an accident in the palace, and whom she

had nursed. He had gone to live on the mountain-side, where he made a

living by capturing, with the aid of his sons, the game which

abounded. He stopped her, and being a garrulous old man, forced her to

speak to him. He informed her that as evening was now coming on she

must not proceed further, for that she would be in danger of her life

from the wolves, bears, and wild boars with which the forest was

filled.

“Wolves, bears, and wild boars! are there many?” she asked.

“The hill is full of them, dear lady Melania; therefore, to go further

to-night will be certain death.”

“Then, as certain death is what I seek, I shall proceed,” replied the

girl. “Take thou this piece of gold, and let me pass. Nay, here are

two, and some silver also--take them all.”

Pushing the old man aside, she passed on, and wandered away into the

recesses of the forest, until, long after having left all vestige of a

trail, she fell from sheer exhaustion beneath the shadow of a

spreading plane-tree, beside a little spring. After drinking a draught

of the cool, refreshing water, she laid herself down to await the

coming of the wild animals that were to solve the vexed problem of her

existence for her, and to terminate all her woes. But she remained

there that night, and also for the following three days, gradually

dying from starvation, and still no ferocious beast came by to

terminate her ills.

CHAPTER VIII.

LOVE FULFILLED.

Since the rescue of Elissa from the brutal grasp of Adherbal, the

young girl had unrestrainedly given all her love to her protector.

Although experienced in matters of war, from having accompanied her

father on his campaigns, she was utterly inexperienced in matters of

love, and, for all her determination--indeed, almost cruelty of

character--begot by the way in which she had been brought up, she was

passionately loving. This was born in her, and she was, moreover, just

at the very age when a maiden’s heart is most impressionable. She had

no idea of counting the cost of anything that she might do where her

love was concerned, and she had fully made up her mind that Maharbal

was to be hers, and she his. Although in those days, as now, eventual

matrimony was considered a desirable object in life for young women, a

lapse from virtue beforehand, when marriage was intended, was not

looked upon as a heinous crime, even among the highest families of

Carthage. For the worship of Tanais, or Astarte, was but another name

for the worship of Venus, and, as all readers of the classics know,

whether under the names of Artemis or Aphrodite, of Venus or Astarte,

the worship of the goddess of love was seldom accompanied by the

greatest continence. This was evident by the Eleusinian mysteries in

Greece, and the Veneralia in Rome, while the extreme licentiousness of

the Carthaginian priestesses of Tanais at Cissa, the town whither the

revolted mercenaries of Hamilcar were banished, is too well known to

require comment.

From her earliest youth, Elissa had been instructed to be a worshipper

of the greatest of Carthaginian divinities after Melcareth, this

Venus, Astarte, or Tanais. And she was more than ever a faithful

votary of the shrine since she herself, youthful, ardent, and loving,

had set her deepest affections upon Maharbal. She expected and

intended that he should become her husband; but she had, with the

laxity of the times, resulting from this worship of Tanais, fully

determined that, with or without the marriage tie, their lives should

be joined together in a closer union than that which usually unites

those who have not already become man and wife.

The only difficulty was in Maharbal himself. He was a man who had

ideas of purity far beyond his age. He did not believe at all in

pre-nuptial love, and had altogether a higher standard of the moral

law than any known to exist at that time. He was, indeed, laughed at

in the army for never keeping even one female slave. He had, in

consequence, after having come to a full understanding with Elissa,

whom he loved, as she loved him, with every fibre of his soul, been

extremely careful that, as far as he was concerned, she should remain

absolutely pure. He intended her to be his wife, and she was, he knew,

absolutely determined to marry him. There, indeed, seemed to be to

neither of them the slightest reason why they should not shortly wed.

Therefore, he had ever gently restrained her passionate abandonment.

He recognised plainly that these loving advances were made solely in

the loving confidence that she reposed in the man who was to be her

husband. To any other man she would, he well knew, have been as cold

as ice, and he recognised that, with body and soul, she loved him, and

him alone.

Thus, when Hannibal’s mandates arrived, ordering Maharbal to take

Melania as his mistress, the youthful and passionate Elissa became

furious with rage and jealousy. She might have looked upon the matter

in a less severe light, judging by the habits of the day, had not

Hannibal, her father, so distinctly said that Maharbal and Melania

were to be considered as betrothed to each other; but this order,

depriving her for ever of the hope of the lover who had never as yet

been hers, aroused her fury to the highest degree, and Maharbal

himself was not less angry than Elissa at being caught in this trap of

Hannibal’s. While discussing the matter together, the letter from

Hannibal to Melania was brought to them. When Elissa had read it, for

once her whole nature rose up in revolt. She became, for the first

time in her life, a thorough rebel to her father’s authority, and

instantly determined upon the death of her rival. For was she not

still the Regent and Governor of New Carthage, and was not the power

of life and death in her hands?

She instantly called the palace guards, and ordered them to go to

Melania’s apartment, to lead her away for instant decapitation, and to

return and inform her when her orders had been obeyed.

Maharbal strove to interfere; but Elissa, drawing herself up, remarked

calmly:

“I am supreme here, Maharbal; this is my palace, and these are my

guards. No one can give orders here but myself.”

Shortly afterwards word was brought to Elissa that Melania was

missing, and that a letter had been found in her room saying that she

was departing for ever; therefore the order for her execution could

not be carried out. She had been seen to leave the city; but whither

she had gone no man knew.

Her first rage being past, Elissa was doubtless glad that her

barbarous orders could not be executed, since she was not cruel at

heart. As for Maharbal, he was delighted, not only that Melania’s

execution could not be carried out, but that her absence made it quite

impossible for him to fulfil the orders of his chief. He thought it

probable that the girl had fled--as indeed she had--merely from fear

of Elissa’s vengeance, and sincerely hoped that he might never see her

face again.

Under Hannibal’s delegated authority Elissa had it in her power to

ratify the marriages of all persons under her rule at New Carthage; so

in her disappointment, and while knowing that without Hannibal’s

permission it would be illegal and irregular to apply this authority

to her own person, she determined upon a bold stroke, and resolved

instantly to celebrate her own marriage with Maharbal. Requesting the

presence of Gisco and the princess as witnesses, she, much to their

alarm and surprise, at once announced to them her intention; and when

the guards, who had brought the news of Melania’s absence, had

withdrawn, proudly drew herself up, and advancing to where Maharbal

was sitting, sadly buried in thought, laid both her hands upon his

shoulders, and looked him straight in the eyes. All trace of

girlishness had now vanished; it was a woman, and a determined woman,

who thus confronted him.

“So Melania is not to die, it seems, for if she reappear now I shall

not have her executed, but carry out my father’s orders, and hand her

over unto thee, or, rather, hand thee over unto her. Yea, hand over

thee my affianced husband to be the affianced lover of another woman.

And she, this slave, by Hannibal’s cruel command, in which, methinks,

he hath dealt somewhat lightly with Hannibal’s daughter, hath been

plainly ordered to live with thee as if thou wert in truth her

husband. Hannibal says it is for State reasons; but State reasons or

no, since I am not thy wife, and this girl is missing, I will do that

which will make it for ever impossible for me to give myself as wife

to any other man. For I, too, although only affianced to thee, will do

my duty to thee as thy wife. And since what applies where this Iberian

slave is concerned, applies equally where Hannibal’s daughter is

concerned, I, Elissa, being determined to bind my life unto thine, and

to thine alone for ever, now solemnly salute thee, Maharbal, as my

husband, before these two witnesses, and before Melcareth and Tanais;

and if Hannibal confirm not our marriage, he can, at all events, find

no fault with thee or me. But be assured that he will confirm it, for

he loveth me. And if thou wilt not take me, I will die.”

Seeing that if Melania reappeared, his beloved Elissa and he would be

separated for ever, all Maharbal’s scruples fled from him upon hearing

Elissa’s word, as leaves fly before the autumn wind. Thus it fell out

that he also vowed eternal fidelity to her, saluting her as his wife

before the two witnesses.

For the next few days Maharbal and Hannibal’s daughter yielded

themselves up to all the delights of mutual love; for as they

considered themselves actually married before the gods, Elissa became

his wife in all but law. Maharbal, however, being the soul of honour,

had stipulated before he yielded, that they should instantly confess

the situation to Hannibal, and ask him to confirm their union without

delay. To this Elissa readily agreed, for she knew her father’s

immense love for herself, and believed that, as the unexpected absence

of Melania had made compliance with his instructions quite impossible,

he would not be so very angry at what had occurred. Moreover, she

quite expected that, knowing that she and her lover had overstepped

the boundary of prudence, he would yield to their wishes at once, and

make them, by his sanction, man and wife; or, rather, confirm the

marriage which, she considered, they had consummated.

But for all that she knew him so well, and that she and her father

loved each other so dearly, she yet did not thoroughly know Hannibal

the Great, nor the inflexibility of his will. He arrived at New

Carthage on the morning of the fourth day after these events with a

large army, and still Melania had not reappeared.

No time was lost by Maharbal and Elissa in disclosing to him the

actual truth. He was vexed on finding Melania missing, but found no

fault with what they had done. He merely remarked drily, and with a

sarcastic smile:

“I have given certain orders, my child Elissa, and they will have to

be obeyed if possible, for I go not back upon my word. Neither thou

nor Maharbal have hitherto been to blame, since ye could not carry

them out. And as thou wast the Regent and Governor here, Maharbal was,

of course, in the meantime, bound to obey thine orders. Apparently

thou hast given him instructions that he was not very loth to obey.

But if thou, as the result of thy futile presumption in thinking I

would make ye twain man and wife, shouldst bear to him a child, think

not that I will any the more for that unite thee to him in matrimony.

Far from it! I have said that Maharbal and Melania are affianced to

one another, and, until I know of the girl’s death, affianced they

remain. Mind I do not say married, but affianced; and that he cannot

be affianced to two women at once, or wedded to one and affianced to

another, is evident.”

Neither the prayers of Maharbal nor his reference to his former

services, nor the tears and supplications of Elissa herself, would for

a moment shake Hannibal’s will. He was not to be moved, for he was

iron.

“Nay, Elissa, notwithstanding that thou hast in mine absence chosen to

take the law into thine own hands, and to consider thyself the wife of

Maharbal, yet, despite the oaths which thou hast sworn before two

witnesses and the gods, thou art not and canst not be his wife without

my consent, and that consent is withheld. Thou couldst indeed, it is

true, in thy position as Regent and Governor of New Carthage, have

given thine own consent, and it would have been legal, to the marriage

of any others who might have bound themselves as ye have done by

mutual oaths. But for thine own marriage thou wast answerable to me

alone, and I will not confirm it. So that is an end of the matter. But

now let us go to our mid-day meal; this subject will keep till later.

I presume that thou hast made inquiries for Melania in any case?”

The shock of this blow had nearly rendered the wretched Elissa

speechless. She could merely murmur:

“Ay, my father, I have sent in all directions.”

“That will do then; so now let us to our repast.”

Before the end of the meal, the old ex-soldier and now forester, who

had met Melania on the hill, appeared, asking to see the lady Elissa.

She shuddered when she heard of his presence with a foreboding of woe,

for what could bring him but news of Melania? He brought, indeed,

tidings that his sons, while hunting a wild boar, had come upon

Melania lying unconscious in the forest, and that she was now reposing

at his hut, and seemed nearly dead from starvation.

“That will do,” said Hannibal, giving the man a large sum of money.

“Take the lady out all necessary provisions and wine, and bring her in

when she is completely recovered; but see that she is completely

recovered first.”

When the old man had gone, Hannibal addressed his daughter and

Maharbal.

“Until Melania reappears, my children, since matters have gone so far

between ye, I will not interfere in your illegal and ill-judged union.

But when she arrives, remember this, thou Elissa, and thou Maharbal,

that Melania and Maharbal are betrothed to each other, and Elissa and

Maharbal are thenceforth to be but the merest acquaintances, nothing

more.

“Now, let us be merry together, and let the wine-cup go round, for we

cannot always be thinking of matters of policy or of State, and save

only for them, I vow I would readily ever see ye twain together as ye

are now. For, by Adonis, god of beauty, ye are a splendid couple. But

duty is duty, alas!

“Meanwhile,” he resumed, with a humorous twinkle in his eye, “let us

now raise a brimming goblet to Tanais the dear sweet goddess of love

herself. What sayest thou, my pretty widow Cœcilia--they say that

Tanais hath no more devoted votary than thee--wilt thou not drain a

cup with us?”

Not only the flirting little princess, but everyone present, including

Hannibal himself, who was no anchorite, drained their wine-cups to the

dregs, Maharbal and Elissa looking deep down into each other’s eyes as

they drank. And the afternoon and night were passed in happiness,

music, and song, and all was gaiety and rejoicing, both in the palace

and camp, at the return of Hannibal from Saguntum.

CHAPTER IX.

A LAUGH AND A LIFE.

All was now animation in Saguntum. The winter had passed and the

place was full of troops, for Hannibal was now using the city as his

base of operations against all the Iberian tribes living across the

Iber or Ebro.

Elissa and Maharbal had been long since ruthlessly torn apart, the

latter swearing to his dear lover, for it was impossible to consider

her as his wife, that Melania should be as a sister to him and nothing

more. But Hannibal, careless of anybody’s feelings, even his own, so

that the business of the State was advanced, had soon perceived that

the occasional meetings which took place between his daughter and her

lover Maharbal were disturbing to them both, and thus upsetting to his

calculations. He, therefore, took an opportunity one day when Maharbal

was busy exercising the large body of Numidian Cavalry now under his

command, of paying an unexpected visit to the house that he had given

to the young warrior.

Entering quietly, he found the beautiful young Iberian girl sitting in

the most forlorn position, weeping violently. Very few questions won

from the reluctant damsel the position of affairs, and the anger of

the great Chief was aroused. For Maharbal, faithful to Elissa, and

being but her’s alone, was not obeying his General’s commands to make

Melania perfectly happy, since it was not the love of a brother, which

was all that Maharbal had given her, that would fill her yearning

heart. There had been a short and sharp interview between the Chief

and his Commander of Numidians, and a few days later, it being now

early in the autumn, Maharbal and Melania had been sent away, with a

large force as escort, to travel by easy stages on an embassy to her

uncle Andobales, King of the Ilergetes. And from the time that they

had left New Carthage the face of the young maiden had brightened.

The description of the Court of Andobales, where Melania and Maharbal

remained all the winter and early spring, is not here necessary, but

the result of the embassy is a matter of history. Moved by the

representations of Melania, by the munificent presents of Hannibal,

and the fact that Melania was the affianced bride of one of the most

powerful chiefs of the Carthaginian army, the closest compact of

friendship was entered into between both Andobales and his brother

Mandonius with the Carthaginians, which treaty of friendship was of

the greatest advantage to Hannibal at that time, and faithfully

respected by the Iberians so long as they were treated with proper

consideration. Before, however, the treaty was absolutely ratified,

the General Hasdrubal was sent by Hannibal on a further mission to

Andobales to see the exact position of affairs. On his return, the

report that he gave to his brother the great Commander was most

satisfactory. But the information that he carried to his niece Elissa,

which was purposely coloured and false, tore the poor girl’s heart

with frantic jealousy, for it left not the slightest room for doubt as

to the state of the relations now existing between the man whom she

insisted, in spite of her father’s absolute disavowal of any marriage,

was her husband, and the daughter of Mandonius. For Hasdrubal brought

back the news that Melania was making Maharbal as happy as possible,

and further that she was likely to become a mother. After hearing this

intelligence, Elissa was both enraged and jealous to frenzy; moreover,

she suffered the more bitterly in her spirit from the fact that no

such good fortune, for so she would have indeed considered it, had

fallen to herself. She felt it all the more, since, moved by her

unhappy looks and frequent tears, and perhaps by the fact that the

treaty of friendship he desired was now established with the tribes of

the Ilergetes, Hannibal had one day told her that, had there been any

such an eventuality where she herself was concerned, he would have

thrown over his tool Melania, and, notwithstanding his previous

refusal, have ratified his own daughter’s irregular connection with

Maharbal simply in order to legitimatise her offspring. But this

opportunity of gaining her heart’s desire was for poor Elissa lost,

and possibly her astute father would never have told her, at this

time, what he would have done, had he not already known that there

would not be any chance of his having to keep his word.

Elissa’s love of Maharbal was now turned, or she imagined that it was

turned, to hatred, for, misled by Hasdrubal, she had no doubt of his

infidelity, and did not in the least take into account the fact that

that infidelity had been imposed upon him by her father’s commands.

She, womanlike, only imagined that he had broken his vow of fidelity

to herself. And this thing she could not forgive!

Meanwhile, the King of the Ilergetes wrote to Hannibal requesting

permission to have the nuptials of his niece and Maharbal celebrated,

and to have the freedom which had been promised to Melania confirmed.

Hannibal, with all the trickiness of the policy of those days, wrote

in return that the marriage should be celebrated in Saguntum, and

directed that the Numidian chief and his affianced wife should return

for the purpose without delay to that city. He had not at heart the

slightest intention of fulfilling either promise, but proposed to keep

the girl really, although not nominally, as a hostage for the good

behaviour of her relations. Thus State reasons influenced him again to

the sacrifice of the personal feelings of the sweet-natured Melania,

whom it had suited his purpose to make a plaything of in every way.

Fortunately for the great Commander’s reputation for good faith, and

for the feelings of Melania herself, she was spared the indignity of

the wrongs that would undoubtedly have been put upon her had she

reached Saguntum alive. For death came suddenly and unexpectedly to

take her away at a time when she could die happily in the arms of the

man whom she loved. An accident that occurred to her by the fall of

her mule over a precipice in crossing the mountains caused her sudden

and early death. Maharbal had scarcely reached her where she lay

crushed and mangled at the foot of a dark ravine, when she became

unconscious, and passed peacefully away. And she was buried on the

side of the mountain where she died.

Thus did Melania, who had never harmed a living soul, escape, by the

will of Providence, from a world in which, had she lived longer, she

would have undoubtedly only experienced many and bitter trials, of

which the enmity of her former friend, Elissa, would have been by no

means the least.

But her removal from Elissa’s path by no means lessened the feeling of

resentment that burned in the bosom of Hannibal’s daughter against her

ex-lover, Maharbal.

He, poor fellow, did not deserve the resentment, for he adored her

still, as he had ever done. He had certainly, while obeying his

Chief’s orders, learnt to appreciate Melania’s devotion to himself,

especially as he had always had an affection for her, in which,

however, passion had had no part.

Maharbal had been only three days in Saguntum, when going out to

review the large body of Iberian and Numidian Cavalry, mounted upon

his war horse, which, on account of his own great size, was an

enormous animal, he was proceeding down the main street of the city.

He was a magnificent sight, reminding the spectator of Apollo, the sun

god, as, with a golden helmet, and wearing the most magnificent

armour, he, on his mighty black charger, preceded his brilliant staff

of officers. Suddenly he espied Elissa, the woman who had been as a

wife to him, and who should, but for the great Hannibal’s invincible

will, have been actually his wife, coming down the street in the

opposite direction. She was on foot, and followed by several maidens,

accompanied also by a couple of young gallants about the court, who

were highly honoured at being seen in her company by so many noble

officers. Raising his hand, Maharbal halted the officers behind him.

Dismounting, he courteously saluted the woman whom he had saved from

Adherbal, and who had been, and still was, everything to him.

“And how doth the Lady Elissa?” he demanded, his eyes aglow with the

delight he felt on seeing her. “By all the gods of Carthage she hath a

right royal mien, and it doth the heart of Maharbal good to see her

once more.”

Elissa deliberately turned her back upon him. Addressing one of the

young men of her escort, she remarked in a voice which was

intentionally raised so that all present could hear it:

“What a number of these stranger officers of the mercenaries there are

in the town just now. But surely someone should give them a lesson in

manners; they should be taught that ladies of rank are not to be

addressed in the streets by uncouth barbarians whom they do not know.”

Then, with a little bitter laugh, she sauntered on without once

glancing at Maharbal. A loud titter was heard from all the maidens,

following their mistress’s example; from the two young nobles also,

and, worst of all, from the officers of Maharbal’s own staff.

But one of the latter not merely tittered, but laughed outright. He

was a certain Idherbal, a right valiant officer, who had considered

himself much slighted when Maharbal had been appointed over his head

to the command of the Numidians. And there was not a man or woman

there but knew well what was, doubtless, considered the diverting

history of the loves of Elissa and Maharbal. Therefore, they

considered a laugh at the unexpected insult and rebuff given by Elissa

to her lover quite excusable.

Not so Maharbal. Bounding upon his war-horse, his face all aflame, the

young man drew his sword.

“Defend thyself, oh, Idherbal,” he cried, “for ’tis the first and last

time thou shalt ever laugh at Maharbal!”

The other drew his sword rapidly, and, waiting until he did so,

Maharbal charged him. Idherbal struck a mighty blow as he approached,

but Maharbal, bending to his horse’s neck, and, with all the skill of

the famed Numidian riders, throwing his whole body on the further side

of his steed, the sword met no resistance, but only whistled through

the air. Back in his saddle in an instant, Maharbal, still crouched

low, lunged home with the point of his weapon at the joint in the

armour beneath his antagonist’s arm. The blow told; but, even as the

red blood spurted out, the young giant withdrew his sword, and, with a

second blow--a terrible, sweeping cut--caught Idherbal just below the

helmet at the neck. The wretched man’s head, helmet and all, flew

spinning off into the middle of the street, while his body fell on the

other side.

“Here, sirrah!” cried Maharbal to the young noble who had been

addressed by Elissa, who, with all her companions, had been forced to

turn and watch the rapid and bloody conflict, “come hither instantly.”

Tremblingly the young man approached Maharbal, and terrified he viewed

his bloody sword. For he also had been a laugher, and feared his own

instant death.

“Take up that head,” he commanded, in a loud voice. “It is the head of

Idherbal, the son of Mago.”

The young man submissively picked up the bloody head, bleeding in its

casque, of the man who had been living and laughing like himself but a

minute previously.

“Present the head to the Lady Elissa,” he said, “and ask her whether

or no it be the head of one of the stranger officers of the

mercenaries who hath dared to insult her by laughing at her words

without first having with her a proper acquaintance. Inform her that

there are plenty more useless heads about--thine own, for instance.

Go!” he thundered, “and that instantly,” as the young man hesitated,

“or I will depute someone else to carry both Idherbal’s head and thine

own to the Lady Elissa.”

This was quite enough for the young noble. So terrible was the look in

Maharbal’s eye that the face of everyone present, as well as his own,

was blanched with fear. He rushed to Elissa and deposited the terrible

emblem of the sanguinary conflict at her feet.

Maharbal rode to where she stood. With his bloody glaive he pointed

first to the head at her feet, then to the trunk from which the blood

was still oozing, forming a large crimson pool on the highway.

“See what thy laugh hath cost, Elissa,” quoth he. “Thou hast caused

the death of a brave man, who was full of health and vigour, full of

hope and happiness, only two minutes ago. That life which hath now

gone to Eternity might just as well have been mine own. Thou little

fool! I loved thee before, but now I hate thee for having been the

cause of my shedding innocent blood. Get thee gone home; never let me

see thy fair face again, since I have killed a man simply for its

contemptuous smile! Art thou satisfied with thy work? Begone, Elissa,

I say, begone, Hannibal’s daughter, or I will slay thee, too, for all

that thou hast been to me, even as my wife! For thou art a dangerous

woman. Begone, I say!”

Again Maharbal thundered these last words in such a terrible tone that

everyone in the street trembled before him. He was well known for his

bravery in battle; but no one had ever seen him in the fiercest

conflict aroused like this. Even his followers tried vainly each to

get behind his fellow, so terrified of his fearful anger was each and

every one. As for Elissa herself, she at that moment once more loved

Maharbal quite as much as she feared him, and loved him all the more

because she did so fear him. Trembling, she fell upon her knees in the

street before him, towering there on his war-horse, and looking the

very picture of vengeance. Everyone else, from the great and sudden

fear of the commander, who had showed so well his power to prove his

strength, and right to command by force of arms, and from respect for

the great Hannibal’s daughter, had now fallen back and out of earshot,

so her words were heard by him alone.

“My lord Maharbal,” she said, with hands uplifted, “forgive me; I am

but a woman, and I have dearly loved thee. I have given myself to

thee, and proved my love. I have since foolishly hated thee; and by

mine infamous conduct to-day, which hath, alas! been the cause of

unhappy Idherbal’s death, I have proved my hate; and, indeed, I am

much to blame, and grieve sorely for what hath happened. My lord! all

thy suite can see me humbly kneeling to thee here, and Hannibal will

hear of it as well, but ere I rise I ask thee for thy forgiveness, for

thou art before heaven mine own lord, mine only love. And all the vows

I made to thee shall last until my dying day; unless, that is,” she

added reflectively, “some great need of our mutual country should ever

compel me to sacrifice myself in the country’s cause. But know this, I

love thee--I love thee, my lord and husband Maharbal.”

Maharbal sprang from his horse, and flung his bloody weapon into the

street. He seized her in his mighty arms, lifting her bodily from the

ground, and kissed her on the lips and on both cheeks. Picking up his

sword, he then addressed the officers of his suite.

“Whoever there may be among ye who would smile at his commander let

him now smile. And I will meet him here on foot in mortal combat

before the Lady Elissa, who is my wife.”

But none smiled!

Hannibal was extremely displeased when he heard of the occurrence, for

he could not afford to have his best officers killing each other on

the eve of a campaign, simply owing to his daughter’s foolish

behaviour. Therefore he instantly sent Elissa back to New Carthage

without allowing her to see Maharbal again, and they were not to meet

for years.

END OF PART II.

PART III.

CHAPTER I.

SOSILUS AND CHŒRAS.

Hannibal was resting in his house in Saguntum a few days after

having sent Elissa back to New Carthage. He had, prior to the scene

depicted in the last chapter, overrun a portion of the country north

of the Ebro, and Hasdrubal, his brother, was still engaged in

prosecuting the campaign against all the Spanish tribes of Northern

Iberia, to whom the Romans, wishing to have a hold of Spain, had

promised protection. As Hannibal was presiding over his wine at an

informal gathering of some of his friends and officers, he was a noble

figure of a man. Not very tall, he was, having very broad shoulders,

nevertheless, of extremely athletic bearing, being built in a sinewy

mould. His chest was large, his biceps wiry and largely developed, his

wrists small, but like iron. His legs were one knotted mass of muscle

without any superfluous flesh. His colouring was fair, indeed ruddy;

his eyes were blue and piercing; his hair was a dark shade of brown.

His mouth, though firm, was rather large and humorous, his forehead

high and commanding. Being clean shaved, his determined chin was

remarkable. He looked, as he sat there, what he actually was--one of

the very strongest men in the whole army. There was not, then, when he

was still a comparatively young man, his equal for boxing, wrestling,

or running long distances, in the whole of the Carthaginian forces,

with the sole exception of Maharbal. He was the fairest man in the

whole of the assembly, having inherited the colouring off his mother,

who had come from a Gallic stock.

There were present with him at his table several people whose names

are well known in history. Silenus, his constant companion, was of

course there, also Chœras, who was a comic individual,

good-tempered--a sort of buffoon, in fact, when it suited him to be

amusing. Chœras was, however, an excellent versifier, and by no means

a fool. Next to him sat Sosilus of Ilium, a pedant who bored everybody

by his reference to learned books which nobody else cared anything

about. There was also present a very different character, Hannibal

Monomachus, who cared for nothing but warfare, and who delighted in

slaying. He was, at present, head of the pioneers of the army. His

skill was undeniable; but the methods that he employed at times were

as rough and ready as the pickaxes of his own pioneers. In fact, he

never minded how cruel he was when he considered cruelty necessary. He

had had a considerable amount of training as a cavalry officer, and

much preferred being on a war-horse at the head of his men, leading a

furious charge into the midst of a body of the enemy, to building

bridges and making roads. But Hannibal had somehow found out, with his

singular capacity for judging men, that Monomachus had great

engineering skill, and had, therefore, transferred him, for the time

being, much to his disgust, from the more strictly combatant to the

scientific branch of the service. He was now, therefore, what might be

considered the general of engineers or sappers and miners.

The other soldiers present were Mago, the younger brother of the

chief, and a high-spirited, brave young fellow; Hanno, a general of

much experience; and last, but not least, at any rate in size, the

Numidian commander Maharbal, who was the youngest man present.

Hannibal was in high good humour; news had come in that day of

continued successes on the part of Hasdrubal in the provinces north of

the Ebro, which he was over-running right up to the Pyrenees.

“Hast thou heard the news, Hanno?” quoth he. “Hasdrubal hath taken

town after town. His last success seems to have been, after a

brilliant cavalry action, in front of a city which he calls

Appollonia. I only know of two Appollonias, the one in Illyria and the

other in Assyria; I know not of this one.”

“I know it and to my cost, Hannibal,” replied General Hanno, “and so

doth our friend Monomachus. When thou wast still quite young, and we

pretty young too ourselves, thy father Hamilcar, upon whose spirit

rest the blessing of the gods, took us both with him with a small

flying column, thinking to take the place by a sudden surprise.

Surprise there indeed was, but it was all the other way. The

barbarians were waiting for us in a pass in the mountains, and it was

but those of us who had the fleetest horses that escaped. The worst of

it was, that Monomachus here had promised us an easy entrance to the

place, owing to the treachery of a young Iberian woman of whom he had,

so he thought, made a conquest. He mounted her on a horse with his

cavalry of the advance guard, and a nice trap she led him into, for

she took him right through the pass before the enemy, who closed

behind him, and attacked us. How didst thou escape, Monomachus, by the

bye? Thou wert the sole member of the advance guard who ever returned,

that I well remember. But we did not see thee for days.”

“Escape!” growled out Hannibal Monomachus, “easily enough, though I

nearly died of starvation first. The instant I saw the treachery I

seized the accursed girl, and, under a pretence of saving her life,

placed her on my steed, and rode off with her into a wood. There,

after first stripping her of all her clothing, for fear that the

raiment should be besoiled with blood, I cut her throat, but slowly

only, letting her life’s blood fall drop by drop. I tied her to a

tree, and watched her die in fact, while expounding unto her all the

maxims of virtue, the point of which was that she would have done

better to run straight in every sense of the word. When at length she

was quite dead, I attired myself in her raiment, and being then a

beardless boy, escaped under the guise of a woman, after many

wanderings. A curse I say upon that place Appollonia! I hope to all

the gods that Hasdrubal hath not left either man nor woman living

there, especially the women.”

“Most excellent Monomachus,” here cut in Sosilus of Ilium, “I have

listened with great interest to this thy not altogether unprecedented

description of the pitfalls into which man may sometimes fall through

the snare of woman. But I can cite thee a somewhat similar instance. I

have no doubt but that all our distinguished company here present

under Hannibal’s roof will have read a certain treatise entitled

‘Woman and her Wiles,’ written by one Onesimus of Syracuse. It was the

only thing that he ever wrote, for he was strangled by Hiero for

writing it, since it concerned that monarch’s mistress, Melissa by

name. But the treatise was so carefully designed, so prettily

elaborated, and so excellently carried through, that it seemeth to me,

although ’twas slightly scandalous indeed, that had Hiero been but a

man of humour, he would, instead of strangling Onesimus, rather have

promoted him to the post of chief librarian. The treatise was divided

into three parts. ‘Woman as an attraction for man,’ was the first

part; ‘Woman as a pitfall for man,’ was the second part; ‘Woman as the

accursed and faithless traitress of man,’ was the third part. Now, the

first part commenced by a very erudite discussion upon the animal

passions, and very lengthy but still not uninstructive arguments as to

whether woman most attracteth man or man most attracteth woman. I

remember well a remark on this subject that was most pertinently

quoted. It was of the Greek writer Eulikmartes, and to the effect

that--”

“Monomachus was a fool,” here cut in Chœras, with a loud guffaw, and

all the rest of the company, who were tittering at the meanderings of

the erudite Sosilus, were pleased at the interruption.

“Yes, just so, Chœras,” remarked Hannibal. “I know, at all events,

that had I been in his shoes, and while being led through the nose by

a woman--which, alas! hath sometimes been my case--myself led in turn

my followers into a trap, I should have considered that I, too, had

been a fool. But he was young--like Maharbal here is now.”

“Ay, my lord Hannibal,” answered Chœras, “Maharbal is no exception;

he is ever over-confiding in loving also. But here is a verse which I

think applies to the case quite as well as the long-winded reflections

of Sosilus:

“Nought of girls knew Monomachus.

Nought from female wiles can shake us.

One who thousand lives hath ta’en

Ofttimes is through woman slain.”

A round of applause greeted this spontaneous outburst of Chœras, and

the pedant was snuffed out.

“Maharbal,” quoth Hannibal, when the merriment had died down and the

wine cups had been replenished, “doth this not indeed a little remind

thee of thine own case? Mightest not thou thyself have been slain, and

only last week, solely for the bright eyes of a woman--ay, even mine

own daughter, Elissa? But, instead of falling, thou hast deprived me

for ever of the services of one of my most excellent officers, poor

Idherbal; I pray thee earnestly not to do so again.”

Maharbal sat silent under the well-merited reproach.

“My lord Hannibal,” quoth Sosilus, “this remark of thine remindeth me

exactly of a verse I once read when I was but a boy; it was written by

an author who lived at Tyre, and was named Pygmalion, after the king,

who was the brother of Dido. He was a writer who possessed a great

amount of erudition, and had considered several cases much resembling

that of Maharbal here, who, somewhat too rashly, albeit to preserve

his own honour, in the most chivalrous way slew Idherbal the other day

in the street. Now to get back to Pygmalion. He said--yet I must

remember in which of his books it was; I think in the thirteenth

stanza of his nineteenth volume.”

“Oh, confound his books!” said Chœras, again rudely interrupting the

learned man. “I will tell thee what he said, oh, Sosilus. Was it not

something like this?--

“Maharbal was in a sense

Bound to seek some recompense.

He was mocked at, and the crowd

Echoed out the laugh aloud.

Thus the warrior lit and drew

Forth his blade--the scoffer slew.

Once more woman by her wiles

Sent a soul to Heaven’s smiles.”

“Bravo, Chœras!” shouted out Mago, thumping on the table. “Thou art

the boy for me, and if my lord and brother Hannibal will allow me, I

will take thee with me, when first he deigns to give me a separate

command somewhere or other. For by the gods, I like thy pithy verses--

“‘Once more woman by her wiles

Sent a man to Heaven’s smiles.’

But come, Maharbal, my lad, why sittest thou so glum thyself, while

thou and Monomachus are giving us such a pleasant and instructive

subject of conversation? Cheer up, lad, and join me in a cup of wine.

What hast been thinking about while looking as melancholy as a dog

about to be led out to execution? There are plenty more bright eyes

besides those of my pretty niece Elissa in the world, and thou and I

shall in our leisure moments oft pursue them together, that I’ll

warrant thee. Or is it the excellent but unfortunate deceased young

woman Melania of whom thou art thinking? Ah! there was a girl for thee

if thou wilt, who would never have betrayed a man--nay, nor even a

woman either. Thou shouldst give me thanks for having first put it

into Hannibal’s head to give her unto thee; for by Melcareth, I saw

her value from the first, and would gladly have had her as a companion

myself. Her’s was a noble disposition.”

“What I am thinking about is this, oh Mago!” responded Maharbal, “that

while echoing the praise that thou hast paid to poor Melania’s memory,

which is well deserved, it seemeth to me that the conversation hath,

with all due deference to Hannibal, been concerned quite long enough

either with women or myself, and that now it would be far better if we

could get back to some subject that is important at the moment, such

as the news of the Iberian war, or the attitude of the Romans now that

they know not only that we have taken Saguntum, but further, in direct

defiance of the treaty the late Hasdrubal made with them, that we have

crossed the Iber, and are hunting their allies about like foxes to

their dens in the mountains.”

“Well spoken, Maharbal, my lad!” quoth Hannibal; “I will join thee and

Mago in that cup of wine--’tis some that the rascal Adherbal brought

to New Carthage, and most excellent. And, here is my hand upon it,

this is the last that thou shalt ever hear from me of that little

matter of the slaying of Idherbal the other day. For thou art, indeed,

a warrior after my own heart, and I honestly agree with Chœras that

as a soldier under the circumstances

“‘Maharbal _was_ in a sense

Bound to seek some recompense.’

And thou didst seek it, and gained it also very effectively all round

that day, if what I heard is true. But now, there is the hand of

Hannibal, the matter is closed. And as to Elissa herself, we will see

later, after the war, for I am just about to disclose to thee my

plans, after hearing which thou wilt wish no marriage now.”

The two warriors stood up, and, both equally fearless and determined

men, looked each other straight in the eyes, while Maharbal held, in a

grip of iron in his gigantic hand, the far smaller but equally strong

hand of his commander, which returned the grasp with equal strength.

With his disengaged hand Maharbal lifted the golden wine cup.

“I pledge thee, Hannibal, my commander, and, by the gods, wish thee

success in all thy plans and undertakings. May I, Maharbal, ever be

with thee! Ay, to the death, if need be. As for thy daughter, if there

be manly work before me, then, let that matter stand over, for I seek

not marriage before a war--I wish not to leave a widow.”

Raising his cup also to his lips, Hannibal replied:

“I pledge thee, my noble friend and servant, Maharbal, the son of

Manissa; good work hast thou done already, despite thy youth, and

doughty deeds shalt thou do again, for soon will come the opportunity,

and, if thou wilt, thou shalt indeed be with me, ay, and I with thee,

to the death in our country’s cause.”

Silence fell upon all present as these two noble soldiers of Carthage

drained their wine-cups over this sacred compact, for such it was, of

eternal fidelity on Maharbal’s part, and of eternal protection and

fatherly love on the part of the great commander.

And it was a compact that was never broken.

“Now,” said Hannibal, when they had resumed their seats, “I have much

tidings to impart unto ye all, and as it is of serious moment, I shall

have to ask the learned Sosilus to spare us all learned dissertations

upon similar cases which may occur to his mind.”

Here there was a laugh at the learned man’s expense, in which the

worthy pedant, who knew full well his own failing, joined. But he

could not resist an answer.

“It seemeth to me, most noble Hannibal, that thou art fully justified

in asking for no further reference to learned books, when thou art in

the very act thyself of making history for future generations. There

is a similar instance in history when Alexander the Great was sitting

at his council table previous to crossing over into Egypt. I got the

anecdote from a very valuable little book written by one, Euxon, an

Athenian. One of his councillors, thus saith the worthy Euxon, was,

with many references to books, drawing parallel cases, and suggesting

certain methods laid down as having been followed by other conquerors

before him, when the great king, Alexander, rising in a stately

manner, remarked--”

“Hold thy peace!” said Chœras, “even as Hannibal is about to remark

now, which is a parallel case, an thou wilt.”

The pedant subsided, crushed once more. Hannibal joined the others in

the laugh, but said:

“And thou also, Chœras, wilt have to keep thy witty tongue in thy head

as well. And now to business.”