FIRST BLOOD.
There had been plenty of stiff fighting before Hannibal succeeded,
with his army of seventy thousand of all arms, in getting across the
Pyrenees into the country of Gallia, for the Celts held strong
positions in which to resist the invaders. But he crossed the
mountains at last, and, having left his brother, Hasdrubal, with
fifteen thousand Libyans, to garrison Spain, and sent an equal number
of Iberians over into Libya, the Carthaginian Commander had pursued
his advance without further resistance until he reached the banks of
the Rhone, about three days’ march north of Massilia, or Marseilles.
Here he proceeded to make a camp and prepare for crossing the wide and
swift river Rhodanus. Boats and canoes were purchased in abundance; a
great number of soldiers were employed in cutting down trees and
making rafts for the transport of the elephants, and, with the sawing
and hammering that went on, the whole camp soon resembled an enormous
workshop. Meanwhile, the natives were collecting in large numbers on
the other bank of the Rhone to dispute his passage.
Sitting round the camp fire one night, Hannibal held a conclave of his
officers.
“We must make speedy haste, oh, mine officers,” he said, “to cross yon
deep and mighty river despite the hordes of barbarians who guard its
further bank, for to-day grave and unexpected tidings have come to
hand. The Romans have landed at Massilia; ay, the Consul Paullus
Cornelius Scipio himself, so say the Gauls, accompanied by his
brother, Cnœus Cornelius Scipio, has suddenly landed and formed a
camp at Massilia. It seemeth that he is proceeding with a fleet and
large army to Iberia to meet me there, and hath disembarked for
provisions; but, doubtless, he will ere this have learnt that he need
not go so far as Spain to find Hannibal or Hannibal’s army. But ’tis
not here in Cis-Alpine Gaul that I would meet him; nevertheless, we
must, while pursuing our previous plans for forcing the river
crossing, despatch at once a force to the southward to ascertain, if
possible, his numbers and his present intentions. General Maharbal,
thine shall be this duty. Warn, therefore, five hundred of thy
Numidians after their supper to be ready to start with thee in the
first hour of the morning watch. Take native guides with thee, and
march with all due precaution towards Massilia, and strive to find out
the numbers and dispositions of the Roman Consul’s troops.”
“It shall be done at once, my lord,” replied Maharbal, saluting, and
departing to that part of the camp where his horsemen were encamped.
“To thee Hanno, son of Bomilcar,” continued the Commander, “is
assigned another and most arduous duty, and one upon the skilful
accomplishment of which depends the whole future of the campaign. For
thou must, with five thousand Numidian and Iberian infantry, march in
a couple of hours time to the northward. Take guides with thee, and,
avoiding the bank of the river, strike it again at daylight. There
procure boats or make rafts, or, by any means, make a crossing before
the Gauls can assemble to dispute thy passage, which, if possible,
must be made without their knowledge. Then, to-morrow night, descend
the other bank, and, at daybreak, raise a thick smoke from the high
hills behind the encampment of the Gauls now opposing us. When I see
that smoke, I will commence to cross the river in face of the enemy,
who, watching us, will, if the fates are propitious, not observe thee.
Then, when they are opposing our landing, do thou fall suddenly upon
their camp and themselves. Thus will they be caught between both
armies at once, and, by Melcareth! ’twill be odds but that not many of
them survive to tell the tale of their discomfiture.”
’Twas now General Hanno’s turn to salute and march out, to warn his
officers and men for the important service which lay before them. To
the rest of his officers, Hannibal now gave certain instructions for
the morrow’s duties, and shortly afterwards all in the camp, except
those on guard, or warned for the duties above-detailed, had retired
to their tents for the night.
Long before daybreak, Maharbal and his men were on the march, and
riding cautiously towards the south. Shortly after dawn he halted his
men for a time in a wood for purposes of repose, while he himself,
taking a fresh horse and accompanied by a few followers, rode well in
advance without seeing any signs of an enemy. Returning, he sent
forward his advance guard, then, followed by all his men, drawn up in
a single line of horsemen, two deep at loose intervals, he himself
advanced in succession. They traversed a plain, and the horsemen of
the advanced guard disappeared over the crest of a sloping hill, to
the summit of which Maharbal had himself recently ascended without
perceiving any danger, when suddenly the men of the advanced party
were seen galloping back in disorder, while behind and among them,
pursuing and striving to cut them down, was seen a large and martial
body of mounted men in bright, burnished armour. From the crests of
their helmets, which glittered in the morning sun, there streamed long
dyed plumes of crimson horsehair. A noble sight and awesome they were,
as, with so little warning, the squadrons came thundering down the
slope upon the Numidians.
“The Romans!” cried every man, astonished; “the Romans!” And for a
moment they wavered, for it was the first time any there, including
the commander, had met the dreaded and world-renowned foe in mortal
combat.
But Maharbal took in the situation at a glance. He saw in a second
that although the Romans had the advantage of the ground, charging, as
they were, down hill, that they were numerically inferior to his own
force.
“Be not alarmed, men,” he cried; “we are more than they; we shall
defeat them. Prefect Chœras, take thou a hundred men well away to the
right instantly, and fall upon their flank and rear. The remainder
follow me. Charge!”
In a second the two forces met in all the shock of battle. And then
for a while the contest was bloody and hand to hand, neither side
gaining any advantage. But presently the Numidians, by separating,
wheeling, and retiring in groups of twos and threes, then advancing
again and flinging their darts, then once more retiring, commenced
absolutely to get the better of the Roman cavalry, who, not
understanding these tactics, kept in a solid formation. Then the wag
and poet, Chœras, fell upon them with his hundred men from the rear,
and broke them up, and they turned for flight. Chœras, as he led his
men, with blood dripping from his sword, pursued, shouting out the
while many a well-timed jest and gibe in the Latin tongue, which he
knew well. But, alas! the Carthaginians’ triumph was short lived, for
suddenly, from behind the hill up which the flying Romans were being
pursued by the scattered groups of Numidians, there appeared a fresh
body of mounted troops, led by a commander who was but a lad. There
were a considerable force of Gallic allies from the tribes faithful to
Rome inhabiting the district of Massilia. Right gallantly they now in
turn charged down the hill, leaving openings between their squadrons
for the flying Romans to pass through, then closing their ranks again.
It was now, after a short but hopeless stand, the turn of the
Numidians to fly, for they were overpowered entirely, and especially
the body of horse with Chœras, which suffered severely. At length,
despite the efforts of Maharbal, his men were all in full retreat,
leaving many corpses behind them on the plain. As for Maharbal
himself, he stood to the last. He had a fresh and magnificent horse,
and knew that he could escape if he would. But he wished to die where
he stood rather than turn back defeated to the camp and his commander.
Proudly, and all alone, sword in hand, he sat upon his charger
awaiting the onslaught of the Gauls, resolving to kill as many as
possible ere he was slain himself. But their youthful commander,
evidently a young Roman officer, was mounted on a far fleeter horse
than the rest of his troops, and galloping forward sought to engage
Maharbal in single combat.
“Defend thyself, proud Carthaginian,” the young man cried aloud in
Greek. “For I am Scipio’s son, and will bear back thy head to my
father.” And he charged Maharbal.
“And I am Maharbal, the son of Manissa,” cried the other, in the same
language, “but thou shalt not bear back my head this day.”
Wheeling his horse skilfully to one side, Maharbal easily avoided the
young man’s blow, delivered as he passed, then, turning his horse,
pursued the gallant young Roman. In a few strides he was alongside.
Dropping his reins, which he could well ride without, he placed his
mighty left arm around the waist of the Roman lad, and urging his own
charger forward, bore him bodily from his saddle, a prisoner in his
terrible grip. In his futile struggles, young Scipio dropped his
sword, and thus found himself being carried away defenceless across
the withers of Maharbal’s magnificent war horse.
“I could kill thee if I would, my fine young fellow,” said Maharbal,
“but thou art too brave a cockerel. I will keep thee alive instead for
a slave.”
A howl of rage arose from the pursuing Gauls, and from the now
rallying Romans, but for stadia after stadia Maharbal still kept
ahead, following his own flying troops, until, at length, he saw the
Carthaginian camp in front, and but a short distance ahead. He saw,
too, a body of cavalry forming up to come to his assistance without
the entrenchments. Another minute and he would have been safe with his
prisoner, when his gallant steed struck a piece of fallen timber,
stumbled, and fell, throwing the two men far apart, Maharbal himself
being stunned in the fall. He knew no more until he found himself, on
returning consciousness, in Hannibal’s own tent, not much the worse
for his fall, although very stiff from having been trampled on in the
melée which had taken place over the prostrate bodies of himself and
young Scipio, which melée had resulted in each side reclaiming its
own champion.
Maharbal’s personal bravery in this sanguinary action--in which he had
lost, in killed alone, two hundred men, and the Romans one hundred and
forty--had saved him from the disgrace, which he would otherwise have
incurred, owing to his repulse. Seeing, however, what had happened,
despite the reverse, the young Numidian warrior only found that his
reputation was considerably enhanced throughout the army by his
brilliant feat in carrying off the son of the Roman Consul.
All the day following this brilliant action, Hannibal Monomachus, with
all his pioneers, especially with the aid of a prefect of pioneers,
named Hasdrubal, was busily employed in building large rafts upon
which to transport the thirty-seven elephants present with the army
across the river. As these huge beasts distinctly refused to allow
their Indian drivers to make them swim, he accomplished his purpose in
another manner. Making two large rafts, they were attached to the
shore, and covered thickly with earth and brushwood, so as to look
like land, and built up to a level with the bank. Then two other rafts
were constructed on a similar plan, and fitted carefully, and fastened
with ropes to those tied to the shore. These were placed further out
in the stream, being held in position by ropes attached to wherries
anchored up the stream. The joins between the two sets of rafts were
not visible to the elephants, who, thinking they were still on land,
allowed themselves to be driven on to the outer rafts, where they were
tethered until the time for the crossing should come. And thus the day
passed, and by the following dawn all was ready.
The first division of the army embarked in the wherries and canoes,
the heavy-armed cavalry men being in the former, two men in the stern
of each boat holding five horses apiece by the bridles, these horses
swimming. The wherries were placed up the stream, so as to break the
current for the canoes below. The infantry soldiers embarked in their
canoes. Thus, all was in readiness, while Hannibal and his officers
remained watching for the signal. Suddenly first a thin and then a
dense column of smoke was seen rising through the trees in rear of the
camp of the Gauls.
“Advance!” cried Hannibal, himself springing into a boat.
“Advance!” cried Mago, Chœras, Maharbal, and all the other officers.
Then, with a deafening cheer from the army in the boats, and deafening
cheers also of encouragement from their comrades left upon the bank,
the flotilla was set in motion. The Gauls, meanwhile, had assembled in
their thousands upon the opposite shore, and, waving their spears, and
shouting their hoarse war-cries, were gallantly awaiting their
advancing foe.
Suddenly cries of alarm were heard from the Gallic ranks, as flames of
fire were seen arising from the tents of their encampment, which they
had left without a guard. Disconcerted, they turned their backs to the
enemy on the river, to find themselves confronted by another and
unexpected foe in the rear. General Hanno and all his men were upon
them.
Rapidly the boats, amid renewed cheering, pushed to the shore;
rapidly, too, were the first division landed and drawn up on the
beach. Then ensued such a scene of carnage in the Gallic ranks as had
never yet been heard of. In less than an hour Hannibal’s boast was
fulfilled, and scarcely a man was left to tell the tale. Thus was
accomplished the passage of the Rhone.