EUGENIA.
What a glorious career of successes it was that was inaugurated with
this cavalry victory near the Ticinus! Had not the blood-thirsty
monster Monomachus been slain by young Scipio at the very end of the
action, he might not only have been able to gratify his wish of
plunging his arm into the blood--although it proved not indeed the
life-blood--of the Roman General, but he might have bathed repeatedly
during the next twelve months in rivers of blood. Success followed on
success. Like rats that leave a sinking ship, the Gauls in the Roman
army deserted in their thousands and joined Hannibal; the Boii and
other Cis-Alpine tribes first sent him ambassadors and hostages, and
then themselves came over with all their fighting men, and, after the
battle of the Trebia, the whole of Cis-Alpine Gaul was in the hands of
the invading Carthaginians.
Now the battle of the Trebia was in this wise. After the cavalry
action just described, the wounded consul Publius Scipio fled with his
army first across the Po, and then, after considerable losses at the
crossings of all the rivers, to some high ground near the River
Trebia, where the now-dreaded Numidian Cavalry were unable to get at
him. Here he was joined in his camp by the other consul, Tiberius
Sempronius, who brought his army from Ariminum, the combined Roman
forces amounting to over forty thousand men. The two consuls were
utterly unable to decide upon a concerted plan of action; the wounded
General wishing for time to get well, and to accustom his newly-raised
legions to campaigning for a while before risking a general action.
Tiberius, however, was anxious to gain some military glory for
himself, apart from his brother consul; he was, moreover, jealous of
the possible successes of the succeeding consuls, the time for whose
election was near at hand. He was therefore only too anxious to risk a
combat, and was constantly urging Scipio to allow him to take the
combined consular forces against Hannibal.
But now mention must be made of the youthful Eugenia and her amours
with Mago.
Mago, the younger brother of Hannibal, was immediately, on the death
of Hannibal Monomachus, appointed to the supreme command of all the
Carthaginian cavalry. After the affair of the Ticinus, he was ordered
on to the pursuit, and he ceased not to harass Scipio, even when he
had encamped under the walls of the city of Placentia. Here, one day
in a bold foray, he destroyed a portion of the camp outside the town,
and in the tent of one of the generals of the Roman allies, which he
looted, he captured an Italian maiden named Eugenia, a girl about
twenty years of age, and of surpassing beauty. She was by birth an
Etruscan, and by some is reported to have been the daughter, by others
the niece, of the general in whose tent she had been found.
Terrified at first, she was soon fascinated by the charm of Mago, who
was a young man of most handsome appearance, and who loaded her with
gifts and gold, which were liberally supplied by Hannibal for a
purpose. After a very few days, as Mago was well acquainted with the
Latin tongue, he had so completely won her to him that she would have
readily allowed herself to be burned with fire for his sake, or, at
least, to have given her life for his. Not being a Roman, but an
Etruscan, she had no particular love for Rome; but youthful and
ardent, and anxious to prove to Mago her great love for him, she
readily fell in with his wishes. Accordingly, after Scipio had
encamped upon the heights on a spur of the Apennines, she one day,
being aided by Mago, pretended to escape to the Roman camp, where she
arrived with torn raiment, dishevelled hair, and an appearance of the
greatest misery. Her curses and invectives against the Carthaginians,
and the story which she related of her imaginary wrongs, utterly and
at once disarmed all suspicion. The fair maid Eugenia was therefore
received with open arms and made a most welcome guest in the Roman
camp, where everyone pitied her for the terrible misfortunes she had
endured. Thus, there was nothing that transpired there that she did
not know, and when she had found out all that was going on, she one
night took an opportunity of escaping, and rejoined her lover Mago. To
him she revealed everything, and Hannibal was at once put in
possession of all the information he required. Having thus gained
knowledge of all the cabals that were going on in the Roman
headquarters, Hannibal knew how to act, and determined to precipitate
a conflict before the Roman infantry were really sufficiently
seasoned.
This he easily managed.
To Mago, through whose pretty lover he had gained so much useful
information, he assigned the most arduous post--that of hiding by
night in ambush in a wet water-course, with a party of two thousand
chosen horse and foot, to appear at a seasonable moment.
Then early in the morning, after his own men had breakfasted by the
camp fires, a party of light-armed troops were sent out to draw out
the Romans from their camp, which was easily accomplished, the Romans,
under Sempronius himself, thronging out, all unfed as they were, and
pursuing the apparently flying foe across the swollen River Trebia.
What followed is but history. After a bloody and prolonged fight, Mago
and his hidden troops suddenly appeared from the water-course in rear
of the Romans, and a frightful slaughter ensued, the Numidians under
Maharbal and Chœras charging, as usual, in small groups, and
advancing and retiring, utterly disconcerting the enemy. The result of
this terrible battle, which was fought in a fearful snow-storm, was
that out of forty thousand troops engaged, only ten thousand survived
and escaped to Placentia. But the savage elephants, despite the snow,
pursued and slaughtered for hours and hours, until they could slay no
more. And this was the last fight in which the elephants were of any
avail, for the bitter cold weather which now set in soon killed them
all but one, and killed also thousands of the allied Carthaginians.
As, however, during the battle, the greatest losses among the
Carthaginians had taken place among the Celts or Gauls, Hannibal still
retained a large number of his original army of Libyans and Iberians
with whom to continue the campaign.
After this battle in the early spring, there were some terrible times,
during which, over and over again, it must be confessed, Maharbal
longed, but longed in vain, that he had taken the opportunity offered
him by the Chief of returning to New Carthage with the letter to his
beloved Elissa.
But there was no going back now, and, as he had cast in his lot with
his wonderful Chief, so was he compelled to go on. Therefore, in the
early spring, he crossed the Apennines, and for four consecutive days
and nights marched through the horrible swamps and morasses between
Lucca and Fæsulæ, where the only dry places to be found at nights
was upon the bodies of the dead baggage animals. Here daily and
nightly he strove to minister to Hannibal, who, sorely afflicted with
a terrible attack of ophthalmia, which cost him an eye, nevertheless
concealed his own agony, and daily and hourly, riding upon the sole
elephant that survived, encouraged by his presence and example the
troops under his command.
Then came a short period of rest at Fæsulæ, during which the
Carthaginian troops contrived to regain a little of their lost vigour;
but, as many of the horses had lost their hoofs in the awful march
through the swamps, it fell to Maharbal and Mago, during this period,
to continually make sudden excursions where least expected, and seize
upon all the horses they could find.
It was now that Eugenia, the mistress of Mago, became most useful.
Carefully nurtured by Mago, and being accorded by Hannibal all the
comforts possible during this terrible march, she had not only
survived all its terrors, but was as strong and well, and, moreover,
as beautiful at its termination as she had been at its commencement.
She had, for concealment and convenience, been disguised as a boy, and
did not look while attired in male raiment more than about fourteen
years of age. She was strong and hardy, and being herself an Etruscan,
was well able to give every kind of information about that country of
Etruria wherein they now were. She was, however, no longer entirely
devoted to Mago, and this for a variety of reasons. Perhaps the
strongest of all was that she was a woman, and consequently unable to
continue ever in one mind. Therefore, although she had deliberately
given herself to Mago, under no compulsion, but merely for love’s
sake, she now had, so she discovered, some religious scruples about
her conduct. She talked to Mago of the possible anger of the gods; at
times, also, she became cold to him, and reproached him with the
sacrifices she had made for his sake in leaving the Romans to wander
about with him.
Mago for a time put up with these whims and vagaries, for he had truly
learned to love Eugenia; but there was one reason, at present
unexpressed, which daily made her more dissatisfied and discontented.
Mago at length resented this treatment, as he wearied of her
ill-merited complaints. He now became, or at any rate pretended to be,
neglectful and cold in turn, and appeared to be entirely devoted to a
recently-captured slave girl.
Eugenia had, in reality, recently set her affections upon Maharbal,
and, as the days advanced, she fell madly in love with him.
Accordingly, during the rides through the districts of Etruria in
search of horses, Eugenia, now that Mago neglected her, attached
herself daily to the party led by Maharbal, and trying, indeed, did
the young warrior find these rides. For, faithful himself to Elissa,
and quite as faithful to his friend Mago, he was, nevertheless,
violently moved by the passion inspired by the beautiful Eugenia; and
at length, so overcome was he by her charms, her sweetness, and her
very evident admiration and love for himself, that he felt he must
fall, and yet he would not fall.
A crisis came. One day, when far away upon one of these raiding
expeditions, they had encamped for the mid-day meal in a wood, and
Eugenia, on some pretext, persuaded Maharbal to wander with her
through the most shady parts of the grove. Then suddenly losing all
reserve, she fell with tears upon his neck, and declared that she
loved him. Maharbal was, for a moment, overcome by the passion with
which he thrilled at the contact with her, and, for a fleeting second,
pressed her violently to his heart. But then, with a virtue almost
unknown in those times, he remembered his faith to his lover--his
almost wife--Elissa, and his faith to his friend--almost
brother--Mago, and a feeling of fury rose within him. He loosed the
girl’s arms from his neck with an angry movement.
“May the gods forgive me!” he cried, “but I know not what to do. I
desire thee intensely, thou beautiful Eugenia, and, indeed, I almost
love thee. But thou art not yet mine, and shalt never be mine, for I
will not be false as thou art thyself. And I should be doubly false
should I yield. Therefore, for thine own honour and mine own, thou
must die!”
Swiftly he drew his dagger, and, in spite of her one appealing cry,
slew her there on the spot, striking his dagger into her warm young
breast. Then covering his eyes with his hands, he hurried from the
dreadful place, horrified at what he had done, and yet feeling that
the omnipotent gods alone had guided the hand that struck the fatal
blow. And this, then, was the tragic end of poor Eugenia, who knew
not, when she had won a man’s love and given unto him all the most
precious gift of woman, how to remain faithful.
Maharbal was not the man to conceal an occurrence of this sort. Upon
his return to camp, he straightway repaired to Hannibal’s tent, and
begged for Mago to be summoned. After relating exactly what had
occurred, he bared his breast, and, presenting the hilt of his own
sword to Mago, said:
“Strike, Mago! for I have taken a life that should be dear to thee.
Strike! for I feel myself indeed worthy of death for having sent that
fresh young soul to Hades. But the gods are my judges, and if thou
wilt but strike, I shall soon appear before them to answer for my
conduct. Therefore, I say strike, and strike home!”
Mago did not strike. He burst into tears, and threw himself into
Maharbal’s arms.
“It is mine own fault,” he cried, “oh Maharbal, and deeply do I grieve
for the poor girl Eugenia. But far more deeply, friend, do I grieve
for thee, upon whom the gods have laid such a cruel burden, as to
compel thee, for thine honour’s sake and mine, to slay a woman. For
thou hadst no other alternative, save to become a base villain.”
And again he wept, and Hannibal, who had in a fatherly way himself
loved the young maiden, being moved beyond words, silently joined his
brother and Maharbal in their tears.
There was much sadness that night in the camp of the generals, and if
virtue be, as the proverb saith, its own reward, then, for the unhappy
Maharbal, that reward was nought but misery.
After this, Maharbal became gloomy and morose. He quite lost the
youthful gaiety which had so often borne him up, and with which he had
in evil days encouraged others. For this affair preyed upon his mind.
In his dreams he would see the dead girl, by turns stretching out her
arms to him in imploring love, and then in imploring despair as he was
about to strike the fatal blow. He refused his food; indeed, he was
quite unable to eat. It was soon evident to all who knew him that his
mind was preying on his body, for daily he looked more wan and ill,
but he could not be comforted despite the efforts of his friends to
cheer him. It was in vain that the worthy and kind-hearted Sosilus
related for his benefit various real or imaginary histories, all given
with due chapter and verse, of some of the god-like heroes of old,
who, in similar cases, had behaved exactly like unto Maharbal himself;
these well-meant histories afforded him no comfort whatever. He
listened in silence. In vain also did Chœras force himself to the
most sprightly jests, or write the most comic and witty verses, and
read them to him aloud.
From sheer politeness’ sake Maharbal would force a smile, and
compliment his friend, but immediately afterwards would relapse into
moody silence as before.
Hannibal and Mago soon became quite alarmed, fearing that his mind was
becoming unhinged by his grief. But although they were as brothers to
him, and showered on him their brotherly love, nought that they could
do was of any avail. For Maharbal was haunted day and night by the
spirit of Eugenia. Throughout all his career, although many women, in
fact nearly all the women whom he met, as Melania once wrote to
Hannibal, fell in love with him, this secret and powerful attraction
which he had experienced for the lovely Eugenia was the only passion
for any other, save Elissa, that ever came to torture Maharbal. But he
kept his thoughts to himself and suffered in silence, although ever
haunted by the phantom of the slaughtered girl.
Had it not been that the battle of Lake Thrasymene occurred just about
this time to divert the current of his thoughts, there is not the
slightest doubt but that Maharbal would shortly have died a raving
maniac. But Melcareth was merciful, and, by means of the distraction
of active warfare, withdrew the heavy hand which he had laid upon the
young man to try him; so that after the battle of Lake Thrasymene
Maharbal gradually, to the delight of his comrades, recovered his
health and spirits once more.