CHAPTER XIV.

CANNÆ.

The battle was not until two days later, for Hannibal had been

mistaken in imagining on the previous day that Paullus Æmilius had

been in command, since it had been Varro.

On the morning that Hannibal wished to fight, he drew up his army in

battle array, but Æmilius, not being satisfied with his ground, which

he clearly saw was far too favourable to the enemy’s cavalry, declined

to come out of camp, and Hannibal, therefore, marched his men in

again. He revenged himself, however, by despatching his cavalry to cut

off the Roman watering parties that evening. Again, on the following

morning, he sent the cavalry to prevent the Roman watering parties

from approaching the stream. And this time, being sure of his man,

Hannibal knew that he would not have long to wait, and so once more he

drew up his troops in battle array and expected Varro. Terentius

Varro, who had been furious the day before at his colleague’s delay,

and was irritated beyond measure at the insolence of the Carthaginian

horse in attacking his water parties, instantly put his forces in

motion. Like a nest of hornets the vast army issued from the two

camps, the larger force on the south side joining the troops from the

lesser camp on the north side of the river. And soon he had no less

than eight thousand horse and eighty thousand infantry men in line

face to face with Hannibal’s thirty thousand. Varro had left ten

thousand more men in camp, with instructions to attack the

Carthaginian camp during the battle; but Hannibal, ever wide awake,

foresaw this move, and had also left ten thousand in his camp to

resist any such enterprise.

What a magnificent sight must have been those two huge armies, the

Romans considerably more than double the Carthaginians, in battle

array, and facing each other, before the commencement of one of the

most awful combats that the world has ever known--the terrible battle

of Cannæ!

Hannibal had crossed to the north side of the river into the loop

already mentioned, and had thrown out to the front, in skirmishing

order, his Balearic slingers and spearmen; the Romans had likewise

covered their front with their light-armed men. Thus the action began

by the engagement of the skirmishers with each other. Meanwhile, the

two armies, taking no part in this combat, remained face to face.

While they are waiting thus, we may as well take a glance at the

mutual dispositions of the two armies, beginning with that of

Hannibal. He, facing northward, had the horse of his right wing

resting on the right bend of the river, and the horse on the left wing

resting on the left bend of the river, while the back of the whole of

his force was to the river also.

The Romans, seeing that glittering stream flowing thus in rear of

their foe on every side, confidently reckoned upon soon turning it

into a river of Carthaginian blood. With this object they massed their

maniples closer than usual, and to double the usual depth. The Roman

forces even then considerably overlapped the Carthaginian army on both

sides of the loop, the river thus protecting both Hannibal’s flanks

for him, as he had intended that it should.

But the Romans imagined that by the sheer weight of their thousands of

heavy-armed infantry thus massed together they would forcibly sweep

the Carthaginian foot clean off the plain and into the river behind

them. And so, no doubt, they would have done, had it not been for the

skilful disposition that Hannibal had made of his own infantry, which

utterly frustrated their intention. For he had massed the whole of his

heavy infantry in the centre of the plain in the form of the crescent

moon, the convex side being towards the enemy and the thinner parts,

the horns, bending backwards on each flank towards the river. It was

an enormous crescent, certainly, and very thick in the centre, which,

being composed of alternate

[IMAGE: ./images/img_240.jpg

CAPTION: Battle Field of Cannæ at Commencement of the Action

Showing the distribution and Number of the Various Troops Engaged]

companies of Iberians and Gauls, was intended to bear the brunt of the

first part of the hand to hand fighting. Of these the Iberian infantry

wore short white linen tunics, bordered with purple stripes; but the

Gauls were naked to the waist. The Iberians had Roman swords, which

could thrust as well as cut; while the Gauls were armed with huge

weapons, meant for cutting only. Both Iberians and Gauls had a

serviceable shield. The flanks of this enormous crescent were composed

of the staunch Libyan infantry, whom Hannibal wished to reserve to the

last. They were all armour-clad, and their armour having been captured

at Thrasymene, armed identically with the Romans opposed to them,

namely, with throwing spears, sword, and shield. The appearance of

this motley mass of soldiers of three nations must have been equally

terrible and frightening to the Romans as was the appearance of the

Roman infantry with their tall, waving plumes to the Carthaginians.

Hannibal stationed himself with the centre of the crescent to lead it

into action, while Hanno commanded under him. All of the heavy Libyan

and Iberian horse on the left were under the command of Hasdrubal, and

all the Numidian light horse on the right were under Maharbal’s orders

as usual.

The Romans had placed their cavalry in front of their flanks. Paullus

Æmilius was in command of the right wing, Terentius Varro of the

left, while the two consuls of the previous year commanded the centre.

These were Cnœus Servilius and Marcus Atillus, who had gallantly

volunteered to remain with the army and fight under their successors.

Minucius and young Scipio were respectively with the horse on the

Roman right and left wing.

It was a glorious morning in the beginning of August, and the grass

upon the plain near the river bank, that was so soon to be crimson

with blood or hidden by the heaped-up corpses, was all emerald green,

and studded with daisies and buttercups, wild campion and

meadow-sweet. The blackbirds and thrushes were merrily singing away in

the branches of the occasional plane trees, while, as the several

parties of skirmishers advanced upon each other, coveys of young

partridges, or small flocks of quail, rose before them with a whirring

sound, and, frightened by the lines of glittering spears, and the

dazzling gleam of the armour to be seen in all directions, flew

frequently over the heads of the opposing forces, the men in jest

striking at them with their spears. In the same way the hares, of

which there were a great number on the plain, being alarmed by the

skirmishers, ran among the feet of the men of the two armies, for

there was no exit for them. And the thousands of men, while standing

thus and waiting to engage in mortal combat, amused themselves by

capturing the timid animals rushing between their legs.

A lovely morning indeed it was, with fur and feather of animal life

moving in all directions around. And yet it was a day consecrated to

the slaughter, not of mere game, but of man himself--and what a

slaughter! For who ever heard of such a battle as that of the battle

of Cannæ?

As has been said, Hasdrubal was in command of the heavy Iberian and

Celtic cavalry on the left. Now old Sosilus, who was on the field, as

usual making notes, had attached himself to this force, and as

Polybius learned from him, and recorded later, there was soon some

grand fighting on the left wing. For no great results transpired, nor

were they expected from the fighting of the light-armed troops.

Hasdrubal, therefore, set his cavalry in motion! They were no less

than eight thousand in number, and soon, with many a warlike shout,

they were thundering over the plain to charge the Roman cavalry,

chiefly composed of knights and senators, in front of the Roman right

flank. With these were not only the ex-dictator Minucius, but the

Consul Paullus Æmilius, who led them in person. And now the account

of what happened as given by the worthy Sosilus to the historian

Polybius is very pretty and very graphic. He related it much in the

following words:

As soon as the Iberian and the Celtic cavalry got at the Romans, the

battle began in earnest, and in the true barbaric fashion, for there

was none of the usual formal advance and retreat. When they got to

close quarters, they grappled man to man, and dismounting from their

horses fought on foot, and when the Carthaginians had got the upper

hand in this encounter, and killed most of their opponents on the

ground, because the Romans all maintained the fight with spirit and

determination, they began chasing the remainder along the river,

slaying as they went, and giving no quarter. Then the legionaries took

the place of the light-armed and closed with the enemy, that is, the

Roman infantry attacked the Carthaginian infantry.

For a short time the Gallic and Iberian lines stood their ground and

fought gallantly, but presently overpowered by the weight of the

heavy-armed Romans, they gave way and retired to the rear, thus

breaking up the crescent. The Roman maniples followed with spirit, and

cut their way through the enemy’s line, and closed up from the wings

towards the centre, the principal point of danger. The two

Carthaginian wings did not come into action at the same time as the

centre, because the Iberians and Gauls, being stationed on the arc of

the crescent, had come into contact with the enemy long before the

wings.

The Romans, however, going hastily in pursuit of these troops and

closing towards their own centre, now fell into the trap that Hannibal

had designed for them. For the Libyan troops that he had placed on

either flank now wheeled inwards, the left flank wheeling to the right

and attacking the Roman right flank, and the Libyans on the right

wheeling in a similar manner to the left and falling upon the Romans’

left. Still the Romans fought bravely, facing outwards; but owing to

their numbers, they were so crowded together that they got none of the

advantages that those numbers should have given them, for only the

outer files could fight. Now Æmilius had been with the cavalry on the

left, and fought most manfully against the charge of Hasdrubal; but

although severely wounded, after the cavalry reverse, seeing that the

decision of the battle rested chiefly on the legionaries, he rode up

to the centre of the line and led the charge himself, cheering on and

exhorting his men.

Hannibal on the other side did the same, for, as already stated, he

had taken his place in the centre from the commencement. Meanwhile the

Numidian horse on the right under Maharbal were repeatedly charging

the cavalry on the Roman left, and although by their peculiar mode of

fighting they neither gave nor received much harm, they rendered them

useless by keeping them constantly employed, charging first on one

side and then on the other. And now Hasdrubal behaved splendidly and

with most soldierly judgment. For he rode along the whole rear of the

Romans, attacked with a murderous charge the cavalry force under young

Scipio, and with which Maharbal was engaged, and having entirely

broken them up, left Maharbal and his Numidians to pursue. He himself

returned to the rear of the Roman centre, and then hurled the whole of

his heavy cavalry upon the rear of the legionaries in a most fearful

rush, the charge being delivered at full gallop. The shock was

terrible, and the result upon the Romans most disastrous. And now all

their cavalry being defeated, with the heavy cavalry on their rear and

the heavy-armed Libyans on both flanks, the Iberians and Gauls having

moreover rallied on their front, the wretched Romans were enclosed on

every side. So closely were they jammed together that they could not

even draw their swords. And thus a fearful slaughter of the Romans set

in, and the massacre continued for no less than eight hours. For the

outer ranks being constantly mown down in succession, the

Carthaginians gradually fought their way over the piles of corpses

from all sides towards the centre, and thus, powerless to resist, the

Romans were cut down like penned-up sheep by thousands where they

stood. The Carthaginian heavy cavalry, being no longer able to urge

their horses onward over the piles of the armoured dead, dismounted

and continued steadily fighting their way on foot to the centre from

the rear.

While this terrible carnage was going on, Hannibal had not been

unmindful of his camp, upon which a most determined attack was being

made by the ten thousand Romans who had been left in their own camp

for the purpose. Seeing that he had now enclosed the legionaries so

that they could not get out, and half of them being slain already, and

the other half with horror in their eyes waiting their inevitable turn

to die, he now took away as many troops as he could spare from the

slaughter. Recrossing the River Aufidus, which was not soiled by the

blood of a single Carthaginian soldier, after all the men had taken a

refreshing drink of the pure water, Hannibal led them up the hill to

the rescue of his camp. Here he arrived in the very nick of time, for

the garrison were, after a prolonged and spirited resistance, just

beginning to waver. Now, however, the Romans found themselves between

two forces, and in consequence the ten thousand, or such as survived

of them, not wishing to be all killed to a man, as they could see was

happening across the river to their comrades, laid down their arms and

surrendered themselves as prisoners.

In addition to those taken prisoners, the Romans that day lost no less

than seventy thousand in killed. For the Carthaginians slew and slew

until they were too weary to strike any longer, and thus at length, of

the ninety-eight thousand horse and foot who went into action, either

in the big battle or in the fighting round the camp, a miserable

remnant of some ten thousand only in all struggled through by degrees

to the town of Canusium.

Meanwhile, Maharbal, who had long continued the pursuit and slaughter

of the Roman cavalry, returned. He had, comparatively early in the

fight, severely wounded young Scipio in the side and in the left arm.

It was while he was, with his two thousand Numidians, keeping occupied

a vastly superior number of the enemy, that Scipio had boldly ridden

forth, and, for the third time in this history, challenged Maharbal to

single combat.

The young Roman’s bravery was great, but neither in strength nor in

dexterity was he a match for the Numidian, who wounded and unhorsed

him after a short hand-to-hand combat, in which Maharbal himself

received a trivial wound on the wrist at Scipio’s first violent

onslaught. Scipio was overthrown and cast to the ground, his sword

falling from his hand. Maharbal leaped to the ground after him and

secured the sword.

“Now, Scipio,” he said, holding the point of the blade at his

prostrate antagonist’s throat, “could I slay thee with thine own

weapon; but I will not, but spare thee even on this the third

occasion, as on the two former ones, merely on account of thy bravery.

Rise, therefore, and take thy sword and thy horse, and see to it that

in the future ye meddle no more with Maharbal the son of Manissa, for

thou art by no means any match with him. Fight thou with thine

equals!” He helped the wounded warrior on to his horse again. “Now go

thou forth,” he said disdainfully, “and see to it that ye trouble me

no more.”

And thus he drove off Scipio with scorn, as though a whipped cur, from

before his face.

A few days later that same sword came in useful for Scipio in

preserving the honour of Rome. For with its blade bared, he rushed in

among a body of nobles who had escaped from Cannæ, and were about to

fly beyond the seas. And he swore that with it he would slay anyone

who would not bind himself not to desert his country.

Meanwhile, as we have said, Maharbal was returning with his men from

the pursuit, and carefully threading his way across that terrible

plain, whereon of the Roman leaders, Minucius and all of the consuls,

except Varro, who escaped to Canusium, lay dead. Seventy thousand

corpses lay there, with pale faces and glazed, staring eyes turned up

to the skies, many of them displaying bleeding, ghastly wounds as they

lay in pools of blood. Horses, either dead or dying, were strewn all

over the plain, having in many instances imprisoned beneath them in

their fall some wounded warrior, whose agonised face bespoke his

misery and fear as he saw the dreaded Numidians approaching. But they

left all such to die a lingering death.

“The might of Rome is crushed! ay, absolutely crushed for ever!”

exclaimed Maharbal to Chœras by his side, and crossing the Aufidus,

he galloped up the hill to where he perceived Hannibal on horseback

outside the camp.

“Hannibal, I salute thee, Conqueror of Rome!” he cried, and he flung

himself from his horse and grasped his general’s hand. “Hannibal, for

ever more the might of Rome is crushed! Send thou me on with the

cavalry, do thou follow behind, and in five days thou shalt sup in the

Capitol!”

Hannibal warmly returned his friend’s pressure, but made no reply.

END OF PART III.

PART IV.

CHAPTER I.

AFTER THE BATTLE.

On the morning after the great battle, the wearied troops were

occupied in pillaging the bodies of the slain. Gathering together the

golden rings of the fallen Roman knights, they collected four or five

bushels, of which three bushels were sent to Carthage, and poured out

before the Hundred on the floor of the Senate house. The number of

Roman Eagles taken, and also forwarded to Carthage, was incredible. At

the same time Hannibal sent an urgent demand for reinforcements in

elephants, men, and money, since for three years, from the day he had

marched out from Saguntum, he had contrived, by his wonderful ability

and skill, to make his army entirely self-supporting, replacing his

losses in men by levies of Gauls, and paying the troops with the

pillage of captured towns and cities. Unfortunately for Carthage, the

Hundred did not listen to his demand. Had they but done so at this

juncture, Carthage and not Rome might have become the conqueror of all

the then known world. The Phœnician Senators foolishly considered

that if Hannibal had in the past, with the assistance of mere Gauls,

been able to win such astounding successes as the Trebia, Thrasymene,

and Cannæ, he might still very well continue to shift for himself.

They imagined that by making levies among the Italian colonies of

Rome, or in the semi-independent Greek cities, in the provinces of

Calabria, Lucania, and Bruttium, Hannibal would still be able to

obtain for himself the supplies that he needed, whether of men or

money. Further, they imagined that, with the reinforcements thus

obtained, he would be able to continue his unbroken career of success.

They were not far wrong in their estimate of his indomitable will, for

he did act much in this manner. But the Carthaginians, instead of

assisting the world’s greatest commander, when he earnestly asked for

assistance, shamefully refused to listen to his demands. They sent

reinforcements, under Mago, to Spain, and a large fleet and land

forces as well under another general to Sicily, in neither of which

places was there at the time any great urgency. Hannibal himself, with

only half of the men that were denied him, would, after Cannæ, once

and for all have conquered not only the Romans, as he had already done

repeatedly, but also the city of Rome itself.

While the army were pillaging the thousands of dead, Hannibal and

Maharbal were walking about among the corpses on the battle-field,

trying to pick out the bodies of the commanders, and to see which of

the consuls were slain. They could not ride, for the now stiffened

bodies, encased in armour, tripped up the horses. Thus the whole day

was passed in climbing and scrambling over the heaps of slain, and in

tumbling about over the thousands of shields, spears, and swords,

thrown wildly about by the dying warriors in all directions, the

points of spears or their hafts sticking up everywhere. It was a most

perilous journey over the battle-field, for some of the metal shields

were lying face uppermost, with the centre boss, upon which was a

sharp point used for striking, most inconveniently pointing upwards.

Others, again, were downwards, which made it difficult to avoid

getting the feet caught in the straps. But perhaps the worst of all

were those jammed edgeways between the stiffened corpses.

“May the curse of all the Roman gods light upon these Roman shields!”

cried Hannibal, as, catching his shin upon the edge of one of them, he

pitched headlong. It so happened that he fell upon a corpse clad in

magnificent armour.

“I have got a severer wound from a dead Roman’s shield to-day than I

received from any live Roman’s sword yesterday. See ye here,

Maharbal!”

And, seating himself upon the corpse, for they were here so thick that

he could not sit elsewhere, he held up his leg to the Numidian. The

shin was barked and bleeding where it had been scraped. Maharbal

laughed:

“A Roman dead, oh Hannibal, is sometimes apparently more dangerous

than a Roman living. I also got a nasty scratch just now from a spear

point. I think we shall be lucky when we get out again from this sea

of corpses. ’Tis fortunate the blood hath dried up, or mostly sunk

into the soil, or we could not move a step. I am most weary.” And

Maharbal in turn sunk down upon the piled-up heaps of dead, observing

carefully the while the features of the dead Roman knight upon whom

Hannibal was resting while nursing his damaged shin.

“Dost thou see upon whom thou art sitting, Hannibal? Thou hast met him

before, but not as now. He was more active the last time.”

Glancing round, the chief looked at the dead face.

“Marcus Minucius! by Melcareth! the co-dictator with Quintus Fabius,

who did once snatch him from my very hands even when we were face to

face. Well, we will give him an honourable burial, and I will no

longer sit, like Monomachus at the crossing of the Rhodanus, upon his

corpse, for he was, although too rash, a most brave and honourable

soldier.”

And Hannibal shifted his seat to another body.

“Hannibal!” quoth Maharbal, “while sitting by the corpse of Minucius,

reflect how fatal for Rome hath been the policy of his colleague, the

lingerer--Fabius, which hath in the end only resulted in all this

carnage. Wilt thou not, after thy glorious success, rather emulate the

rashness of this Minucius, and let me instantly make a dash with all

the cavalry for the city of Rome, which will be in a terrible state of

panic when the news of this battle arrives? I may even be able to

force my way into the town before any fugitives bring the news, and

then, seizing the gates, can hold them until thou arrive in person

with thine army, that is, with all the infantry.”

“I would that I could let thee go,” quoth Hannibal, “but ’twould be

useless. See the distance. There is all Apulia to be crossed, and all

Samnium likewise. Then, again, the enormous province of Latium is to

be traversed ere Rome be reached. Thou mightest get there, ’tis true;

but with all this enormous spoil to be gathered and placed in the

Citadel of Cannæ, of which I will form an arsenal, I could not march

to-day or to-morrow. And even ere thou couldst get there thyself, the

gates would be shut. Every man and boy in the whole of the enormous

city will soon be in arms. They will not be many of them trained

soldiers, ’tis true, but consider the city’s defences! How canst thou

with thy cavalry alone break down the massive walls? The place can

only be taken by a regular siege. And I cannot, before the

reinforcements for which I am writing earnestly arrive, invest so

large a city with any hopes of success by starvation. For we have lost

ourselves at least five thousand five hundred men in this action, and

we have as many thousand wounded. Nay, let us wait for the new troops

which will doubtless arrive in a short space from Carthage, then we

will at once invest and storm the city. ’Tis impracticable at present,

absolutely, believe me, lad.”

“Hannibal, thou art a great general and I am but thy servant. There is

none like unto thee to win a victory, but, by the gods! thou dost not

know how to profit by thy victory when won, or else wouldst thou let

me go--ay, allow me to start in an hour’s time.”

And, savagely in his disappointment, Maharbal kicked at an adjacent

shield, making it ring like a bell.

Hannibal sprang to his feet.

“Maharbal, listen unto me! Thou art young and rash--ay, rash even as

dead Minucius yonder. But on me alone depends the whole safety of the

army, the whole honour of Carthage. By all the gods! were I to listen

to mine own wishes in this matter, I would instantly do as thou dost

suggest, for I long to follow thine advice, and make an instant dash

for Rome. ’Tis, by Moloch, the greatest disappointment I have ever

felt not to be able to do so instantly; but, for all my wishing, I

must not think of self alone in this matter, and prudence tells me

plainly that ’tis not wise; therefore, regretfully--ay, with very deep

regret--must I wait for the reinforcements from Carthage. Let us now

go forward; ’tis useless our talking over the matter further--I am

determined.”

Alas, for Hannibal! those reinforcements never came. But still, he

could not have added to his fame had they arrived, and had he then

taken Rome. It is for the marvellous manner in which, for many years,

he maintained himself in Italy without them that he is so justly

famous.

But now we must leave him and Maharbal for a time, ever over-running

the country, and capturing or receiving the submission of important

Italian cities, such as Capua in Campania, where the inhabitants first

smothered all the Romans in the public baths and then yielded; or of

Greek cities such as Tarentum in Calabria, where the gates were opened

to him through the treachery to Rome of two young hunters, and where

Hannibal himself pulled all the beleagured Tarentine warships, under

the very nose of the Romans, out of the harbour and overland across

the isthmus. It is not our province here to give in detail the many

Italian campaigns of Elissa’s father and Elissa’s lover, for we must

see what Elissa herself is doing elsewhere.

CHAPTER II.

WIFE OR MISTRESS.

We left Hannibal’s daughter at the Court of Syphax after a serious

fall out boar-hunting, from the effects of which, however, she soon

recovered.

The young ædile Scipio was now madly in love with her, and the very

fact that she had, while apparently returning his embraces, called

upon the hated name of Maharbal, made him all the more anxious to win

her for himself. For if he had been three times worsted by Maharbal in

the field, he was only all the more anxious to conquer him in the

lists of love.

Elissa herself was, it must be owned, exceedingly attracted by the

charm of the young Roman; and, still feeling very sore at the neglect

of Maharbal, she let herself go rather more than she intended, and

encouraged him considerably. At first she did so merely for amusement,

thinking it a triumph to subjugate a Roman noble; and then she went on

with the game because it pleased her, for Scipio was a most loveable

man. Yet had Hannibal’s daughter not the least idea of what her own

feelings really were. She only knew that she was attracted by the

young Roman, for she had, since her affair with Maharbal, so seldom

met anyone of rank equal to her own to whom she could allow herself to

be attracted, that she was no mistress in the arts of love-making, or

allowing herself to be made love to. She, therefore, wondered if it

were possible that this attraction could be more than a passing

liking. She wondered again if it could be possible that this Roman,

the enemy of her country, whom she now met daily as a friend in the

intimacy of a foreign court, could ever become to her anything more

than a friend. She did not know if she wished that he should do so;

but she certainly knew that his presence gave her pleasure. Therefore,

without arguing out the matter with herself too far, she took the

pleasure of the moment.

Very early in their acquaintance, they found politics a dangerous

subject. Therefore the old vexed questions of the rights of Rome to

Sicily, or the rights of Carthage to Sardinia, the justification of

the invasion of Libya by Regulus, or, in defiance of all treaties, the

attack by Hannibal on Saguntum and his subsequent invasion of Italy,

were entirely abandoned between them from a controversial standpoint.

But as they were both educated in the art of war, all these incidents

were discussed between them from their strategical aspects, and

thrashed out to the full. Thus, as the daily gossip of the palace was

soon exhausted, these two always had a mutual subject of conversation.

But it was only natural that when a handsome young man and a handsome

young woman were constantly together--and when, moreover, the latter

had good grounds for believing that her lover was neglecting

her--strategy sometimes was a subject that ceased to be referred to,

and a softer theme engrossed the thoughts of both.

When Scipio, however, became ardent and made love to her, Elissa ever

retired like a hermit crab within a shell, putting out a claw

wherewith to give a little defensive pinch to keep at a distance the

man who would explore too closely what the shell contained.

For thus have ever, since the beginning of the world, been the wiles

of women.

The unfortunate Scipio, becoming more enamoured day by day, was by

degrees almost driven to despair. Now, he had with him at the Court of

Syphax his bosom friend, Caius Lælius, a man whose nature was much

similar to his own. For Caius was brave to a degree, a splendid

soldier, and sailor, too, for that matter, as his many naval exploits

proved, yet he was gentle and kind, and altogether unspoiled by the

rough manners of the camp.

Caius Lælius noticed with great concern the growing attachment of his

friend for the beautiful Carthaginian maiden. He was much attracted

towards her himself, but his loyalty to his friend made him leave the

field clear. Thus he never put himself forward in any way to gain the

notice of Elissa, of whom he knew Scipio to be so much enamoured. On

the other hand, he purposely devoted himself to some of the other

beauteous maidens present at the Numidian Court. These were only too

pleased to shower their favours upon him, for he was universally

popular. Thus no party of pleasure, no joyous hunting-party or picnic,

for they had picnics in those days even as now, was complete for the

merry ladies of the Court of Syphax without the presence of the ever

light-hearted Lælius. And Elissa herself knew full well the nobility

of the young man, and was ever most courteous and friendly to him.

One day Lælius took his friend and chief to task.

“Scipio,” quoth he, “in the name of all the gods of Olympus! what is

this game that thou art playing with the daughter of Hannibal? Wouldst

thou make of her thy mistress?”

Scipio flared out in a rage.

“Caius, thou and I have been friends from boyhood; but dare to utter

such a suggestion again and I strike thee to the ground!” And he laid

his hand upon his sword.

“By Cupid and Venus! ’tis more serious even than I imagined,” replied

his companion, laughing. “So thou wilt kill me--because of what?

simply because being thy dearest friend I would see thee happy. Tut,

tut, man, ’tis childish. I but meant to infer that ’twould be

difficult for thee to make her thy wife, and if all that rumour says

be true she hath already been the mistress of thine old enemy

Maharbal, the Numidian, then why not thine? There is an old Roman

saying that there are many women who have never had a lover; but there

are none who remain with only one. Then why shouldst thou not succeed,

especially in the absence of thy rival?”

“Simply because Elissa is far too noble-minded, and I myself would not

take her so unless all other means failed. But why should I not marry

her, Lælius? It would be the best thing for both Rome and Carthage.

For once she were my wife, how could the war continue? To make her so

would be the greatest act of policy that hath ever been wrought since

the commencement of the first Punic war. For Hannibal could no longer

prosecute the war in Italy were his daughter the wife of Scipio.

Neither could Hasdrubal nor Mago continue the war in Iberia against

our legions were their niece to become my spouse. Only think of the

thousands of lives that may be saved--the thousands of homesteads that

may be spared from destruction, the cities that may never sustain a

siege, the matrons and maidens that will never run the risk of

violation or slavery, should the daughter of Hannibal become the wife

of Scipio.”

Lælius, carried away by these words, sprang up enthusiastically.

“By Jupiter and Juno! By Mars and Venus! ’tis true, Scipio! ’twould

bring a lasting peace. Well, ask her straight out, and may all the

gods speed thy wooing. For on this matter I now see well hangs a most

notable crisis. If thou canst win her now, the war ’twixt Rome and

Carthage will be stayed. This Elissa is, in very truth, most wondrous

beautiful, and once she were thy wife she would become a Roman. The

world is quite big enough for Rome and Carthage together, therefore

why should they not join hands? and, in sooth, what might we not do

could we but form a combination? Think of it! Scipio, a combination

between Rome and Carthage--Rome with all its glorious records of land

victories, Carthage with its splendid fleets and immense naval power.

Together we could conquer all the known and unknown worlds. ’Tis

glorious, oh Scipio! I am with thee; there is my hand.”

Scipio was about to reply.

“Nay, speak not yet,” continued the other. “Think what we could win

together. The League of the Achæans, the League of the Ætolians, the

power of Macedon, the strength of Antiochus in Asia Minor, the pride

of the Ptolemies in Egypt, all this together Carthage and Rome can

subdue. And the honest love of a man for a maiden may accomplish all

this. And a most glorious maiden is she, too. For whether or no she

hath loved this Numidian Maharbal, there never yet was in this world

such a woman as this Elissa, so strong is she in herself, so beautiful

and so powerful. Make her thy wife, Scipio; then shall Rome and

Carthage together conquer and reign supreme over all the world. Now, I

leave thee.”

Gripping his friend’s hand warmly, Caius Lælius turned and left him.

Every word that he had said was true: the whole future fate of the

world depended upon that infinitesimal part of the world contained in

one tiny unit--the body of one fair woman.

CHAPTER III.

FIGHTING WITH FATE.

There was a cool and refreshing northern breeze wafted off the seas

when one morning the young warrior Scipio persuaded the Carthaginian

maid to accompany him on horseback to a green, palm-studded headland

stretching far out into the sea. Having dismounted and left their

steeds with some slaves, the twain wandered on until they came to a

sort of cave.

It was a natural archway overhung with wild fig and caper bushes, and

having an aspect towards the delightfully blue waters of the

Mediterranean. There had once been a temple to some god or goddess at

the spot, and they seated themselves upon a fallen column in the

recess. This was shaded by overhanging and luxuriant tufts of

dew-bespangled maidenhair fern; it was, in fact, a most enchanting

spot. Never was there such a glorious day; it was a day when merely to

live was in itself an infinite joy. Across the sea could be seen, a

hundred miles away, the faint outline of the Spanish land in a radiant

haze, while close at hand, the rock-doves uttered cooing notes of

love.

Placing his arm round Elissa’s shoulder and drawing her face near to

his own, Scipio spoke.

“Elissa, thou canst see in the far distance the headlands showing;

they are the coasts of Iberia. But what thou canst not see is the

future of the world, and that thou hast it in thine own hands to shape

that future now. Now, I can foresee much. And this I tell thee. I love

thee, dear, and love thee deeply, and, wilt thou but give me thy love

in return, thy nation and mine can conquer the world together. But

before all I ask one thing, I ask thy love.”

Elissa’s heart beat fast. The memory of her own love, Maharbal, came

to her mind. This man, this Scipio, told upon her strangely, yet could

she not forget Maharbal. She remained silent, gazing over the sea and

nervously twisting her fingers together.

“Canst thou not love me?” Scipio asked, as he rose and confronted her,

capturing and holding her not altogether unyielding fingers in his own

strong grasp. “Look out, dear one, over the seas; all those seas may

be ours. Watch those far distant headlands. They now belong to

Carthage, ’tis true, but they will, should thou not accede unto my

prayer, most undoubtedly one day belong to Rome. Yet, give me but thy

love, thy hand, and together, thou and I, will conquer and rule the

world, and Rome and Carthage will be one alone.”

Bending low, he kissed her hands with gentle kisses, stealing all

along from finger-tips to wrist. Still she remained silent, lost in

deepest thought. For she was thinking of her country and her past.

After a period of thought she suddenly threw his hands from her.

“And Maharbal?” she exclaimed, “what share is he to have in this

ruling of the world?”

The young Roman had not expected this.

“Maharbal!” he answered scornfully, “what share can such a one as

Maharbal have in the universal dominion that I propose to thee

shouldst thou but unite thy lot with mine? Maharbal, if he be not

already dead, can still continue his career as a bold cavalry leader;

but what can he do for the world save send many men out of it before

their time? ’Tis out of place, methinks, to talk of Maharbal when the

future of nations is at stake, and all dependeth but on thee and me.”

Elissa sprung to her feet in turn, and looked Scipio straight in the

eyes.

Laughing half scornfully, “Listen unto me,” she said, “oh Scipio. Thou

art but a boy for all thine exploits, and art carried away partly by

thine enthusiasm and partly by thy love of me, for which, believe me,

I am truly grateful, for thou art indeed one worthy to be loved. Yet

listen, thou art dreaming a dream which is impossible of completion.

Thy union with me could never carry with it the weight that thou dost

imagine. I, being Hannibal’s daughter, should be hated by Rome. Thy

marriage would not be recognised; I should soon be reduced to the

position of thy mere mistress. Rome and Carthage together would never

conquer the world, for the sole object of each is to conquer the

other, and thus the old racial hatred would never permit it. Could I

for one instant believe that it could be so, I would, for my country’s

sake, and even in the interest of all humanity, throw over mine

allegiance to Maharbal and give myself unto thee now. But I see it is

but a dream, and, therefore, were there even no Maharbal in

existence--although my heart tells me that I should love thee and love

thee dearly--yet would I not give myself unto thee. Nay! it may not

be; my natural intelligence persuades me that party feeling in Rome

and Carthage, and mine own father’s hatred of Rome, would never allow

this glorious union between the two countries which thou hast most

patriotically imagined. Therefore, Scipio, leave thou me for ever, for

I can never be thine. Things being thus, I only belong to one man

living, and to him I will be true.”

Scipio stamped his foot with rage.

“Curse him!” he cried. “Curse him, by all the gods of Olympus and

Hades! He needs must come between me and victory at every turn, and

never more so than now. And thou art acting ill for thy country,

Elissa; mark thou my word. Some day, moreover, in spite of this

thrice-accursed Maharbal, thou shalt be mine whether thou wilt or no.”

Elissa’s colour rose, and she laughed at him.

“Thine! whether I wilt or no, my lord Scipio? Surely a somewhat

presumptuous boast, seeing how my father Hannibal is slaying thy

compatriots by tens of thousands in Italia, and how I myself have been

present at the terrible discomfiture of thy relatives in Spain--a

proud boast indeed. Thine, indeed!” she added scornfully, “never while

Maharbal exists will I be thine, unless thou capture me in honest war;

but remember Hannibal’s daughter is accustomed to warfare, and will

not be easily taken, I assure thee.”

“Nevertheless,” responded Scipio sternly, “since thou hast thus

rejected my proposals, thou knowest, full well, Elissa, that should I

capture thee as thou sayst in honest warfare, thou wilt no longer have

the chance of becoming my wife. Thou wilt become my slave, ay, my

slave, nothing more. And how wouldst thou submit to the consequences?”

“Scipio,” answered Elissa smilingly, for her anger had evaporated,

knowing as she did the utter devotion of her companion, “shouldst thou

conquer me in war, as I have conquered thee in love, I would submit

without demur to all the penalties of the situation; and who knows but

I might perchance not be so over-sad if thou shouldst thus capture me,

and I have no voice in the matter. For despite thy nationality, that

thou art most congenial to me, I must confess. Yet, until I am thy

slave, with all due deference to thee, I may, I think, venture to

retain, oh thou most amiable Scipio, my liberty of person, and

likewise my fidelity both to my country Carthage and my lover

Maharbal.”

And with a playful laugh she gently seized him by the arm and led him

away, saying:

“Now, that is a bargain between us, so let us not talk of such foolish

matters further.”

But Scipio, exasperated and sick at heart, even while allowing himself

to be led by her caressing hand back to where the horses stood, swore

by all his Roman gods that she should regret it yet, and that if ever

she should fall into his hands he would bind her to keep her promise.

And so they returned.

A few days later, Syphax having announced his approaching marriage

with Sophonisba, and his consequent definite espousal of the

Carthaginian cause, Scipio and Lælius had no other course left to

them but to quit the Numidian Court and return to Rome.

Scipio had a parting with Elissa that was almost tragic. He ended by

bidding her to remember that she might, for all her flouting him, yet

some day become the mere slave of the man who now adored her so madly,

and who was willing to make her his bride. Then ashamed of himself for

having spoken thus, and having lost all control of himself, he pressed

her madly in his arms for one short passionate second. And so they

parted!

Shortly after the departure of Scipio and his suite, the marriage of

King Syphax and Sophonisba was celebrated with great magnificence.

Everyone at the Numidian court seemed happy and overjoyed at the event

save Massinissa alone. He himself had sought the lovely Sophonisba’s

hand, but she had repulsed him in the most unmistakable terms.

Therefore, in high dudgeon and vowing revenge, he had quitted his

uncle’s court with all his suite, without waiting for the marriage

festivities.

When these were completed, bidding a tender farewell to her friend,

now queen of Massaesyllia, and a warm farewell to her kindly host the

Numidian King, Elissa with General Hasdrubal set sail for New

Carthage, whither she arrived without accident. Her uncle Hasdrubal

was but awaiting her return to once more prosecute the war in the

northern provinces, and General Hasdrubal, the son of Gisco, having

been despatched to the south-western parts with an army, Elissa

herself once more resumed her old position as Regent and Governor of

New Carthage.

She found upon her return the foolish little Princess Cœcilia still

in the palace, quite as vain and foolish as ever, and what was worse,

on terms of considerable intimacy with a certain young Roman noble,

one Marcus Primus, a prisoner in the palace awaiting a ransom from

Rome. A patrician and of very high family, Marcus was a young officer

of distinction, closely connected with the family of the Scipios. He

had escaped on the occasion of the defeat of Cnœus Scipio, but Mago

had wounded and unhorsed him in a subsequent encounter, after which,

on account of his rank, he had not been treated as an ordinary

prisoner, but sent to New Carthage, and there during his recovery had

been placed on parole. Hasdrubal, finding him of a somewhat pliant

disposition, and hoping to make use of him later, had purposely kept

him under semi-restraint only, and lodged him in some out-buildings

within the palace grounds, to the walls of which he was confined. The

Carthaginian General likewise occasionally entertained his prisoner at

his own table.

Being of a particularly pleasing if somewhat effeminate appearance,

and having an agreeable manner, the amorous Cœcilia was instantly

attracted by him. She had not been long in taking advantage of the new

opportunity thus afforded her of a flirtation, and during his

convalescence had become intimate with the young Marcus Primus to an

extent of which Hasdrubal had not the slightest idea. Elissa, however,

upon her return, well knowing her aunt’s disposition, was by no means

so easily blinded to what was going on, and very soon had an

explanation with the princess upon the subject.

“By whose orders,” she inquired severely, “oh Cœcilia, hath this

young Roman been admitted to the palace, and how cometh it to pass

that, not content to be for ever wandering about with him in the

gardens, thou must even bring him to the dining-table and place him by

thy side? It is, methinks, somewhat unseemly on thy behalf to be thus

closely consorting with a prisoner. Wilt thou never have done with thy

folly and philanderings, that thou must needs bring our enemies thus

under our very roof-trees?”

The Princess Cœcilia blushed through her paint, and answered

nervously:

“I, my dear! I assure thee I have nothing at all to do with it, my

dear. The young man is most estimable, I assure thee, and perfectly

harmless and well-behaved. ’Twas thine uncle Hasdrubal himself that

brought him hither; I had no voice in the matter whatever, for he is

nothing to me. But he seemeth, nevertheless, most amiable and--”

“And not at all averse to being made love to in the summer-house in

the orange grove, as I have seen myself,” interrupted Elissa. “Well,

since Hasdrubal brought him about the palace, and he is nothing to

thee, he can, now Hasdrubal hath gone, henceforth remain even in his

own quarters, and so no longer trouble thee with his presence. I do

not at all approve of what hath much the appearance of a love-affair

taking place here in our palace between a high-placed lady of the

Carthaginian court and a Roman officer, no matter how well-bred or

amiable he may be.”

“Oh! certainly, my dear Elissa! as thou wilt; send him back to his

quarters by all means. But, since thou art so particular, may I

inquire if ’tis then only in the court of Syphax that thou dost

approve of friendships, or even love-makings between Carthaginian

ladies and Roman officers of rank?”

It was now the turn for Elissa’s cheek to redden, for it was evident,

from this sly cut, that Cœcilia had heard of the intimate terms upon

which she herself had been with young Scipio.

She disdained, however, to notice the allusion further than to say

sternly:

“I shall give mine instructions, mine aunt, and do thou see to it that

thou consort with this Marcus Primus no longer. Thou mayst, however,

see him once to bid him farewell if thou choosest.”

“Oh, certainly,” replied the little princess spitefully, “even as thou

didst, so they say, take a somewhat prolonged farewell of thy Scipio.”

And she bounced off in a temper to find the latest object of her

affections, with whom she concocted a plan whereby she could secretly

visit him.

One morning not very long after this, it was reported that the young

Roman was missing.

His raiment was discovered upon the battlements on the side next to

the lagoon. In a courteously worded letter which he left behind him,

he expressed his thanks for the kindness and hospitality which had

been extended to him during his captivity. But he further stated that,

wearied out with long waiting for the ransom that never came, he was

determined to take his own life, especially as he was now placed under

closer restraint. Thus it was concluded in the palace that Marcus

Primus had committed suicide, and the hysterical little princess made

a somewhat exaggerated show of grief at the untimely end of her

_protégé_.

Elissa, however, when no signs of the Roman’s body were seen either in

the lagoon or in the gulf, had very considerable doubts, not only of

the genuineness of the suicide, but of Cœcilia’s grief. Nor was she

wrong in her suspicions, for the facts were these:

The princess, knowing that the water in the lagoon became fordable at

certain periods, had, by bribing two of the guards and some fishermen

of her own Iberian race, assisted Marcus to make his escape, which he

had done in the garb of a fisherman, for since his confinement to his

quarters he considered himself freed from his parole. She herself had

made arrangements with the fishermen to carry her off also on a

subsequent night, to the hiding-place where the Roman was to be

concealed for a few days until she could join him.

This plan, however, was entirely frustrated by Elissa, whose

suspicions were so thoroughly aroused that she had her aunt’s

movements watched day and night. When the frivolous little woman

discovered this, she was wretched. Cursing Elissa in her heart, she

flung herself upon her couch and wept bitterly for her sorrows, as

being one of the most ill-treated women in the world. For she had

really become passionately attached to this the latest of her lovers,

and the difference between their ages had only made her affection all

the stronger.

CHAPTER IV.

THE FRUITS OF FOLLY.

Not long after this, Scipio landed with reinforcements for the army

at Tarraco in Northern Spain, and assumed command of all the shattered

remnants of his two uncles’ forces. He had with him his bosom friend,

Caius Lælius, whom he placed in command of the fleet that had brought

them over from Italy, and he set about at once to see what he could do

to restore the damaged prestige of Rome throughout Iberia. In this he

was much assisted by an incident that occurred a very few mornings

after his arrival.

It so happened that shortly after daybreak a small fishing craft

coming from the south crept into the harbour. The occupants, three in

number, had with them a plentiful supply of fish of several kinds. The

more ordinary sorts they readily disposed of to the soldiery, but a

particularly fine selection of the choicer red mullets and grey

mullets they would on no account part with, saying that they were a

present for the Roman General himself. Carrying their burden between

them, the fishermen had no difficulty in approaching the headquarters

of the General, especially as one of them, the youngest and most

ragged-looking of the three, strange to say, not only spoke the Latin

tongue but spoke it well.

When the fishermen arrived in front of the guard posted over the young

General’s tent, they were allowed to proceed no further. They created,

however, such an uncouth clamour, after the manner of fishermen, that

Scipio and Lælius looked out from the tent where they were sitting to

see what was the cause of the disturbance. They arrived on the scene

just in time to prevent the audacious fishermen from being struck down

by the butt ends of the soldiers’ spears.

“Publius Scipio! Publius! dost thou not know me?” cried out the ragged

one, laughing. “’Tis thy kinsman, Marcus Primus, that would greet thee

with a present of fish, ay, and of his own catching, too! Approach, I

pray thee, and see these red mullets. Never yet hast thou seen the

like,” and he drew out several from the basket at his feet, letting

them slip back again through his fingers with an air of pride.

Both Scipio and Lælius stared a moment in surprise, and then they too

burst out into hearty laughter, while, to the astonishment of the

guards, the General embraced the ragged fisherman most heartily, all

covered with scales as he was.

“By Poseidon, king of the seas! my kinsman,” cried he, “a right good

fisherman indeed thou art; but by all the gods! whence brought ye

these fish? Are they perchance just fresh from the River Styx, for I

did greatly fear that thou hadst gained the dark Plutonian shore some

moons ago?”

“Nay, nay, Scipio, my cousin, these be no fish from Hades, and I am

not dead, but truly living, and have much to tell thee, so ye will

first but order me a bath and fitting attire in which to appear before

the Roman Commander. But now let me commend unto thee these my

comrades in many a perilous adventure by land and sea. See to it, I

pray thee, that thou have them well treated, for much good have they

done for the Roman cause in thus saving me and bringing me to thee, oh

Scipio, as thou and Lælius shall learn anon.”

The guards soon took care of the fishermen, while Marcus was himself

instantly taken into Scipio’s own tent, rendered presentable, and

provided with a repast, of which he seemed much in need, and in which

he was joined by the two generals. There were no traces of effeminacy

now about his sunburnt features as he lay there on a couch, eating the

first decently-served meal he had seen since he had escaped from New

Carthage.

“By Bacchus!” exclaimed he gleefully, as he drained off a cup of old

wine. “I tell thee, Caius Lælius, I envy thee thy profession of the

sea. Nought is there like a few months in an open boat to make thee

healthy and hearty. Then, again, how glorious the good red wine

tasteth after nought but the trickling springs of water collected in

caves in the rocks, or the rain water caught in the hollow of a sail

when far out at sea. How dost thou like my fish, most noble Scipio?

Ho, ho! a fisherman’s life for me, say I! There is now none so cunning

as I with a hook, and thou shalt, my kinsman, appoint me no longer to

the command of thy vulgar maniples and squadrons, to fight with

Libyans and Iberians, but to the command of a noble fleet of fishing

boats; and then Piscator General Marcus Primus shall daily make war

upon the finny monsters of the deep, and provide the army on shore

with dainties fit for Lucullus himself.”

Laughing again, he tossed off another cup of wine, for he was in high

good humour to find himself once more with friends and comrades. While

Caius Lælius did ample justice to the finny trophies of their guest,

Scipio could hardly eat a morsel, so anxiously was he awaiting the

moment when he might, with decent politeness, send away the attendant

slaves, and ask the question nearest to his heart.

At last the time came.

“And what about Hannibal’s daughter? How is she looking, Marcus? Tell

me of her.”

“Looking! why most radiantly beautiful. That is she ever, although,

alas! she looked not very kindly upon me. It seemeth that she did not

approve over much of flirtations between Carthaginian ladies and young

Roman nobles. Didst thou find her so in Numidia, Scipio?”

Caius Lælius joined in the good-natured laugh against Scipio, who

himself remained silent, as in deep thought. Presently Marcus

continued:

“Personally I have nothing but thanks to give to the beautiful lady

Elissa, for it was her very severity towards me that brought about my

salvation, since by making me a prisoner to my house she absolved me

from my parole. Further, her kind but foolish Aunt Cœcilia, who had

fallen in love with me, and who procured me mine escape, would never

have allowed me to go had not Elissa forbidden her to see me openly.

As it was, she purposed to have joined me, but as she never arrived,

after waiting three days in concealment, I put to sea without her. I

hope no harm hath befallen her, for by her means have I learned all

about the defences of New Carthage, which I shall presently tell thee,

Scipio; but what could I have done in an open boat with a plump little

lady ten years older than myself, one too whose sole fear is lest her

complexion should be spoiled by the sun? She would have died of

lamentation and weeping when she saw herself day by day becoming, even

as I am myself, burned as black as a coal.”

“Thou wert far better without her, Marcus,” quoth Scipio. “Besides, I

would not have had her in the camp, since I like not traitors, and,

put the matter whichever way thou wilt, that she was nought but a

traitor to her own kinswoman and chief, Elissa, in this matter of

thine escape is most apparent. Nevertheless, all is fair in love and

war, and I trust that, by the aid of the gods, we shall be able to

take advantage of her treachery. Thus shalt thou soon enter with me,

at the head of a victorious army, the very city in which thou wert but

lately a prisoner. After that thou canst take the lady out fishing

with thee if thou choosest, and then either take care of her

complexion for her or drown her as thou wilt, the latter I should say

for choice. She will have served her turn anyway. Perhaps Lælius

would like to take her off thy hands, and for a cruise in his

flag-ship; he can provide her there with proper awnings to shade her

from the sun.”

“Not I, by Pluto!” cried Lælius, spitting disdainfully on the ground.

“I too, like thee, hate a traitor, Scipio. I have far too high a

regard and liking for our beautiful enemy, Elissa, ever, should it be

in my power, to spare one who hath wronged her, as hath this Princess

Cœcilia in enabling us to learn from Primus all the secrets of the

defences of her city. Therefore the Princess Cœcilia had better

beware of one Caius Lælius, whatever she may, from her passion, have

done for thee personally, oh, Marcus, in the past and, through her

treason, for Rome in general in the future.”

“Well,” returned Marcus Primus, “I for my part wish no ill to either

the Lady Elissa or the Princess Cœcilia, since between them they

have, although working differently, been the means of my obtaining my

liberty. Moreover, the former is so lovely that no man could possibly

wish her any harm, while the latter is merry and frivolous, and one

well calculated to help the wearisome hours to pass agreeably for an

unfortunate prisoner.

“But talking of women, Lælius, there is one now in New Carthage whom

I warrant thee thou wouldst not disdain if thou hadst a chance of her.

She is a young widow, named Cleandra, just back from Carthage, and as

plump a little partridge as ever thou didst set eyes upon. Her mouth

is a perfect rosebud, while as for her eyes--”

“What colour are her eyes?” interrupted Scipio, getting interested.

And then the talk degenerated into the usual conversation about women

that is so common among young men, be they princes or ploughboys, in

the pleasant half hour after a satisfactory meal.

Later on in the day, leaving the ever delightful theme of the fair sex

on one side, Scipio revealed to his two friends that marvellous

ability of generalship which afterwards astonished the world, and with

these two alone he laid his plans, which were kept a secret from all

else in the camp.

“Lælius,” quoth he, “I am about to take a leaf out of our enemy’s

book, and in the same way that they crushed my father and mine uncle,

will I now deal them a notable blow, should but the fates prove

propitious. For, as they took advantage of my father and uncle being

separated to crush them both in detail, so will I now take advantage

of the separation of their own armies. Owing to their bad treatment of

their Iberian allies, in by force raising money from them, and taking

their daughters as hostages, nominally as guarantees for their good

behaviour, and then dishonouring them, as though not the daughters of

allied princes but mere slave girls captured in war, they have now

stirred up a great part of Iberia against themselves. Thus, owing to

the disaffection of the tribes, instead of combining to attack us here

in Tarraco, see how they are split up! Hasdrubal, Hannibal’s brother,

is besieging a city of the Caspetani; the other Hasdrubal, him whom we

met at the court of Syphax and found then to be a right good boon

companion, is away near the mouth of the Tagus in Lusitania; Mago

again, Hannibal’s other brother, even he, whom I well remember

springing upon us from an ambush at that unlucky business of the

Trebia, and to whom thou, Marcus, didst owe thy wound and thy

captivity, is, so I learn, away to the south-west, beyond the Pillars

of Hercules. Thus they are all separated from one another.

“How foolish hath been the conduct of these Carthaginians! who, not

content with behaving badly to the daughters of the lesser princes,

have, so I learn, even made nominal hostages, but really concubines,

of the daughters of the greatest chiefs of all, ay, even of their

oldest and staunchest friends, such as Andobales, King of Central

Iberia, and his brother Mandonius.

“Now, see the result of all this! Yesterday I received an embassy from

Andobales, offering friendship to Rome, and complaining bitterly of

the Carthaginians, his old allies. That offer I shall accept. And no

doubt many more of the tribes will come in at once when they see with

what honour I shall treat those that come first. Then, having nothing

to fear from the Iberians and Celtiberians, I shall give it out

publicly that I am about to sally forth to attack Hasdrubal among the

Caspetani, but shall carefully avoid doing anything of the kind. For,

while they are anxiously expecting me in one place, I shall promptly

proceed to another. And I regret to say that it is against the New

Town, Lælius, ay, even against our one dear friend among the

Carthaginians, the charming Elissa herself, that I must deliver an

unexpected attack.

“For each of the three armies of the enemy is at a distance of more

than ten days’ march from the New Town. Now, were I to try to take

them all in detail, our losses would be so great, that even if we

conquered one, we might fall in a combat with the next. Again, if I

were to attack one force alone, in a fortified camp, one of the others

might come to its assistance, and we so be destroyed. With the New

Town, however, things are different. For thou, Marcus, hast given me

the most minute details of all the defences, and it seemeth that they

have there an utterly inadequate garrison, so sure have they been of

the strength of the defences of the city. But the information thou

hast given me, which, thanks to thy foolish mistress Cœcilia, thou

hast learned, to the effect that the lagoon on the landward side runs

nearly dry each tide, changes the whole aspect of those defences. And

I see my way, therefore, to carrying the place by a sudden storm. It

will doubtless, alas, cost us many lives; but what are soldiers meant

for but to be killed in their country’s cause? It hath been the fate

of the Scipios for generations past to die in battle, and may be mine

and thine as well.”

“Ay,” here interposed Marcus, cheerily, “we all run an equal risk in

battle, and even if we do go under, we three at all events shall not

share the ill-luck of the raw recruit who falls in his very first

engagement.”

“This, then, is my plan,” continued Scipio. “While pretending that we

are going north we will go south. In the meantime, we will get many

scaling ladders ready, having them made in sections that can be joined

together easily. Thou, Lælius, shalt, with the whole fleet, proceed

by sea to New Carthage and carry them for us. But not a word, not a

single breath beyond the walls of this tent to give a suspicion of our

design.”

“Poor Elissa!” sighed Lælius, “I am truly sorry for her; she had

better have hearkened unto thee in Numidia, Scipio--for, unless she

die, she will assuredly soon now be thy slave. And hath she not made a

certain compact with thee, Scipio?”

“Ay, she hath made a compact with me, Lælius,” replied Scipio,

smiling sadly; “but by Jupiter and Venus! I know not when the time

cometh whether I shall enforce the fulfilment of her share of the

contract or no. Besides, who knoweth the fortune of war? It may prove,

perchance, that it be I who become her slave, and she may put me in

chains,” and he sighed thoughtfully. “Not that that will alter matters

much,” he added half-pathetically, half-humorously, “for by Venus and

Cupid! I became her slave and was in chains from the very first moment

that ever I cast eyes upon her beautiful face.”

“Ah, well,” replied his friend lightly, “there will be at all events

one happy man should we take New Carthage. For Marcus will find his

turtle-dove once more, and ’twould, methinks, but be fitting that he

should reward his fair princess by marrying her--eh, Scipio?”

“Hum!” replied Marcus Primus, smiling, “marriage is a somewhat serious

matter for a soldier. Now, thou, Lælius, art a sailor, and like the

snail thou carryest thy house with thee. Therefore I will display a

little self-sacrifice. Thou shalt, if she be captured, take the

princess, even as Scipio said, for a while with thee on thy ship. Then

if, after some months of close observation, thou shouldst still deem

her worthy of matrimony--”

“I may marry her myself, I suppose? and Marcus Primus will find that

he hath pressing business elsewhere! is that thine idea? Nay, nay, my

friend, I will have none of thy Spanish beauty; but I will, under such

circumstances, wed her off at once to my chief boatswain; he is a fine

fellow, and will make her a right good husband, I warrant thee. With

all due deference to this grand princess of thine, I think that

’twould be she and not the boatswain that would be most honoured by

the union.”

Scipio smiled, but Marcus looked rather glum at the jest. He was still

young enough to be a little proud of his conquest. But he was a

good-natured young fellow, and far too happy at his recent escape to

care much for any of their banter. Therefore, he only called for a cup

of wine, and ostentatiously raising it to his lips, invoked the

blessing of the gods upon his preserver, the fair and rotund Cœcilia.

Wherein he showed himself in soul a very gentleman, one who did not

forget a woman as soon as he had profited by her benefits towards

himself.

CHAPTER V.

MARS VICTORIOUS.

Scipio soon set his army in motion. He was still a young man of less

than seven-and-twenty when, with twenty-five thousand infantry and two

thousand five hundred cavalry, he made one of the most wonderful

marches on record in any age, arriving in front of New Carthage in

only seven days. Lælius, having taken on board his ship Marcus Primus

and the two fishermen who had helped the young man to escape, managed

things so well that he arrived in the harbour of New Carthage at the

very same hour that Scipio with his host appeared and encamped in

front of the town on the land side. There had been no time to place

the booms across the harbour, for it was a thorough surprise for

Elissa; but she was nevertheless, with her small garrison, ever

prepared for war. She had long since, especially since her city had

been drained of troops for the armies in the field, trained many of

the townspeople to warlike exercises. Therefore when she received from

Scipio, before any hostilities began, a most courteous invitation to

surrender, expressed in friendly terms and offering life and safety to

all within the walls, she answered equally courteously but firmly,

saying that she was there to defend the city, and would only yield to

force, and fight to the last.

Poor Elissa! she knew full well, when she saw the large fleet of Caius

Lælius anchored well within the gulf on one side, and the large force

of Scipio encamped almost within arrow-shot of the walls, just across

the lagoon on the other, that she had not much chance; for that if the

city should fall by no other means, it must fall by starvation, unless

she could hold out until such time as one of the Carthaginian armies

should come to her relief. Nevertheless, she determined to do all in

her power, and strain every nerve to uphold the honour of her country

and her father’s name. Therefore, before the fighting actually began,

she rode all over the town, all round the defences, and exhorted

everyone, whether soldier or civilian, to do his duty. She encouraged

them by falsely saying that she had just received advices from her

uncle Mago, that he was advancing with a large force to the relief of

the city, and thus generally contrived to put the inhabitants of the

New Town in good heart. For no one within the walls ever dreamt of the

possibility of such a strongly-fortified place being carried by storm.

It will be remembered that New Carthage stood upon a high hill jutting

out into a gulf, while upon the land side it was, save for the part

near the causeway and bridge on the isthmus opposite the main gate,

protected by the lagoon, which had been artificially connected with

the sea. High walls protected the town upon every side, while steep

cliffs covered with the red-flowered, prickly cactus further protected

its sea front.

When the Roman soldiers first saw the place, their hearts fell within

them, for it looked so utterly impregnable. But young Scipio, who was

throughout his career, despite his good qualities, much of a

charlatan, informed them in an address that Neptune, or Poseidon, king

of the seas, had appeared to him in a dream, and informed him that he

would personally assist him in the capture of the city. Thus he

greatly raised the spirits of his men. Moreover, as he had often done

the same kind of thing before, and had usually been lucky in the

result, he was looked upon as one protected by the gods. Therefore,

his bare-faced assertion of their promised intervention on his behalf

was believed by the ignorant and superstitious soldiery, with the

result of inspiring them with redoubled courage for the tremendous

enterprise before them. Scipio continued his address by pointing out

to his army the immense advantage the capture of the town would be to

the Romans, by giving them an excellent seaport from which they might

invade Africa; he dwelt also upon the enormous booty within the walls,

and further, that as it contained all the Spanish hostages, should

these fall into his hands, he could, by restoring them to their native

countries, make friends with all the princes of Iberia, after which

the utter defeat of the Carthaginians throughout the peninsula would

be assured.

And, finally, he promised mural crowns of gold to such of his men as

should be the first to escalade the walls.

Meanwhile, within the city, Elissa ordered the Carthaginian flag to be

hoisted on every post and every house, in order that the presence

everywhere of the blessed white horse upon the purple ground, an

ensign given to Dido by the ancient and immortal gods, should remind

each and every one of his duty.

Thus, with the standards gaily fluttering in the breeze from every

eminence, and festoons of flags across the streets, the fair city of

New Carthage looked more like a city celebrating some joyous festival

than a town about to be plunged into all the horrors of a most bloody

combat.

The trained veterans at her disposal did not much exceed some two

thousand men. Fifteen hundred of these Elissa placed under the orders

of a chief named Mago, with instructions to post the greater number

along the walls, both on the land side and the sea side, upon the

battlements of which, at every point, were heaped-up piles of darts,

huge stones, and masses of lead. Moreover, cross-bows, called

scorpions, on account of the sting they discharged in the shape of a

small but deadly missile, were ranged round the walls at short

intervals, with their ammunition placed ready beside them.

The remainder of Mago’s men were stationed either upon the commanding

eastern hill that jutted out into the sea, upon which stood the temple

of Æsculapius, or in the citadel.

Another superior officer whom she had under her orders was named

Armes. Him she posted, with two thousand men of those whom she had

trained from the townspeople, at the gate leading to the isthmus.

A body of one hundred men of the veterans she reserved to herself as a

personal guard, to accompany her whither she would throughout the

expected siege, and another hundred under old Captain Gisco she left

in charge of the palace and the women therein. The palace was so

situated that it was only immediately in danger from the sea side on

the south-east, where the walls of the garden formed a part of the

actual walls of the city. Upon the other three sides the high and

battlemented walls of the garden were so placed that, while they

overlooked the town, they were quite separate from its outward

defences, and the only entrance upon that side was a gateway, so

defended by a drawbridge over a deep fosse that a few men could defend

it against thousands. The small postern door on the south-east side,

leading to the harbour, Elissa caused to be barricaded with stones,

while the marble steps leading down to the sea she had partially

destroyed and partially blocked up with strongly tethered masses of

the prickly pear cactus which grew so freely on the cliffs, and which

were calculated to form a terrible obstacle to any escalading foe.

In conclusion Elissa gave instructions for bands of the armed

inhabitants of the town to be placed on the walls at intervals along

the whole of the sea front, which was menaced by the powerful fleet of

Lælius, and upon the land front facing the isthmus, as either of

these parts could, although the walls were very high, be assailed with

scaling ladders. She had thus made the very best disposition of the

small force at her command. One place, however, she failed to garrison

in strength, partly from want of men and partly on account of its

natural strength, and this was where, on the north side of the

isthmus, the lagoon washed the walls of the city. And now, having done

all in her power for the defence, she returned to her palace, and

assembled all the frightened women therein to the morning repast.

Elissa herself was clad in her war gear, and merely removed her golden

helmet, and cast her beautiful shield, inlaid with its golden horse,

upon one side ere she sank upon one of the silk-cushioned divans

around the board whereon was spread the meal. The eye of the young

maiden was bright, her look determined, and her cheek flushed with a

noble courage. Although still only in her twenty-first year, she had

all the ability and experience of an old commander; and, noting her

confident appearance, her youth was quite forgotten by the other women

present, who looked to her for protection.

One of them was a most lovely maiden named Idalia, a girl of seventeen

summers, with large, dreamy eyes like those of a fawn. Her beauty was

so great, her face such a pure oval and so gentle, her willowy form so

bewitchingly enticing and rounded, that she was quite the equal in

beauty of Elissa herself, although in an entirely different style. She

was, by nature, timorous even as the fawn whom her eyes resembled.

Rising from her seat, Idalia approached Elissa, whose glorious masses

of dark, ruddy hair, having broken loose from their restraining

fillet, were streaming over the light steel cuirass inlaid with gold

which covered her. The sunlight, breaking in from an open window

behind, shone through the almost black tresses, distinctly showing up

the ruddy lights beneath. Without a word Idalia, whose eyes were

filled with tears, caressingly laid an arm round Elissa’s neck and

kissed her gently, almost reverently. Then, lifting up the flowing

locks, she pressed them also to her lips, then quietly readjusted them

below the silver fillet which had previously restrained them.

“Wherefore dost thou weep?” exclaimed Elissa kindly, patting the pale

cheek so near her own. “Fear not, we shall beat off the Romans, and

thou shalt come to no harm. So banish these tears; I will protect

thee, pretty one. Come, be reassured by me; do I look fearful of the

result? That thy life shall be safe I warrant thee, for whoever else

may fall, the great goddess Tanais, whose votary thou art, will surely

protect such a beauteous young maid as thou.”

“Oh, Elissa, dear Elissa!” replied the fair maid, in sad but musical

tones, “believe me that I trust in thee and in the goddess Tanais

also; but ’tis not for myself I weep. ’Tis with fear for my beloved

Allucius. Canst thou or the goddess Tanais protect him? Alas! I fear

’tis not in thy power, and I weep lest he may fall.”

“Allucius, Prince of the Celtiberians, must do his duty with the rest

of us,” rejoined Elissa straightforwardly but not unkindly; “and he

hath a post of honour, since I have placed him as second in command to

Armes at the city gate. But should he fall, he will die a most

honourable death, and one that will be worthy of thee. Therefore,

sweet one, put a more cheerful face upon the matter, I pray thee, for

thou wouldst not have him act the poltroon, and shield himself behind

thy chiton, wouldst thou? But thou canst pray to the gods for him.”

“Nay, nay,” cried the girl proudly, drawing herself up and dashing

away her tears, “I would not have him other than a noble soldier. I

thank thee for teaching me my duty, Elissa, and I will be brave.”

“I think thou art making a most unnecessary fuss, Idalia,” here

interrupted the Princess Cœcilia spitefully. “What folly thou dost

talk about this Allucius. Why trouble about him at all when thou

knowest that, with thy youth and thy beauty, thou are safe thyself?

For the worst that can happen to thee is that thou mayst fall

perchance to the lot of some Roman noble. Who knows but Scipio might

take a fancy to thee himself. Thou hast already met him, since thou

wast with Elissa at the Court of Syphax.”

“Princess Cœcilia!” exclaimed Idalia.

But Cœcilia continued peevishly in a torrent of words: “Nay,

interrupt me not; I know what thou wouldst say, that ’tis merely for

Elissa he hath come here, and that ’tis on account of her late foolish

coquettings with him in Numidia that all these miseries are come upon

us. For what other reason, save to make her his, hath he come here to

attack us women instead of going to fight Hasdrubal or Mago as, had he

been worth calling a man, he would have done? But fear not thou,

Idalia, those Romans are not particular as to whether they have one

girl or twenty; and since Elissa hath brought him here, and thou art

moreover a worshipper of Tanais, thou wilt doubtless be but too

pleased to save thyself at the expense of thine honour.”

“Princess Cœcilia!” exclaimed Elissa, whose eyes were flaming with

fury as she rose to her feet, “begone! retire to thine apartment, and

see thou stir not thence without mine orders. For despite thy

calumnies, I do much misdoubt me but ’tis thine own traitorous conduct

that hath brought the Romans upon us. Should it prove so, beware!

Cleandra, I beg thee accompany the princess to her apartment, and give

instructions to the palace guard that mine aunt is to be considered a

prisoner.”

“Oh! in sooth, Elissa!” exclaimed the now utterly cowed little

princess, turning pale, “in good sooth, Elissa, thou hast altogether

misunderstood me. I did but speak in jest. Indeed, I did not mean a

word.”

“Begone!” replied Elissa, “I will not hear thee more,” and she waved

her hand to Cleandra to lead her off.

This Cleandra did with some difficulty, for the little woman’s whole

body was now convulsed with sobs, and her knees trembled and shook so

together that she could scarcely stand. It was almost impossible not

to feel pity for her as the huge tears washed the paint from her now

considerably damaged complexion. But Cleandra obeyed her orders, and

then rejoined her mistress and friend, to whose home in Spain she had

voluntarily returned from Carthage upon her husband’s recent death in

a drunken brawl. This she had done, even although by doing so she was

exposing herself to a renewal of the state of slavery in which she had

been before her departure. But the ties of mutual gratitude that

united Elissa and Cleandra were so great that there could scarcely now

be considered to exist ought save friendship between them.

After this incident the repast proceeded in peace. It was scarcely

concluded when two messengers rushed in, one crying out that the

Romans on the land side were advancing across the isthmus and

threatening the gate, the other that the Roman fleet was also

advancing and the sailors attempting to warp their ships to the base

of the cliff on the seaward side of the city so as to land the

marines. Elissa speedily arose, seized her shield and a sheaf of

darts, and repaired first to the battlements on the seaward side of

the palace. There she saw that the enemy were in the greatest

confusion. The ships were so numerous that they were getting in each

other’s way. There was a great deal of clamour, but owing to the

vigorous defence that was being made, Lælius was not likely for some

time to come to be able to land his men in any numbers upon the

sloping rocks. For the missiles being hurled upon the assailants from

the walls, falling upon the confused ships and boats, were causing the

greatest disorder. Some Carthaginian ships, moreover, which were lying

under the shelter of the walls, were advancing gallantly to a counter

attack, and although their numbers were few, they being only eighteen,

they were able to create an excellent diversion.

Accompanied by her body-guard, the young Regent next hurried down to

the battlements near the main gate of the city. Thence she beheld the

splendid and awe-inspiring sight of the whole of the Roman army with

ensigns flying and eagles displayed, drawn up in line at some distance

behind the bridge which crossed the waters of the lagoon where it

flowed out into the gulf.

The men of this noble army, whose arms and polished shields were

glittering with dazzling brilliancy in the sun, were standing

motionless.

Far in advance of the main body, however, a considerable detached

column of heavy-armed troops, consisting of Hastati, Principes, and

Triarii, in their three lines, were crossing the bridge, maniple by

maniple, and deploying the maniples into line, alternately to the

right and left in succession, as they arrived upon the city side of

the bridge over the narrow channel that traversed the isthmus. Without

a moment’s hesitation, Elissa gave the order from the top of the

ramparts where she was standing to Armes, the tribune commanding the

force of two thousand citizens within the gates, to engage this

attacking column of Romans. With promptitude this order was obeyed;

and sallying forth with gallantry, the troops under Armes rushed upon

the foe. Those who had crossed the bridge were, with much slaughter,

driven backwards, and thrust, either into the lagoon to the one side,

or into the inrunning waters of the gulf on the other, while the

centre of the Romans, falling back upon those who were still crossing

the bridge in rear, created considerable confusion, and thus the

centre also suffered much loss. The whole body of Romans then fell

back gradually towards their own main body, the Carthaginians crossing

the bridge, deploying in turn into line, and pursuing them.

From her vantage point upon the battlements over the gateway, Elissa

could plainly see the error into which Armes was falling, for she

perceived that the Romans were gradually pushing up more and more

supports from their main body. She therefore sent instant instructions

to Armes to fall back again to the city gates. But her messenger

arrived too late, for before he had reached the contending forces the

largely reinforced Romans were advancing once more, and, after a

terrible hand-to-hand conflict, driving the Carthaginians back again

over the bridge. Armes was now slain; and although Allucius, the lover

of Idalia, made most heroic efforts to rally the citizens, they were

at length driven back headlong up to and through the city gates,

Allucius himself being sorely wounded. The Romans would have entered

the gates with the fugitives, but those upon the wall commenced

casting down a rain of missiles upon them, causing much loss. Scipio,

moreover, who was watching the contest from a hill called the Hill of

Mercury, caused the trumpets to sound the retreat, for the number of

men engaged was far too few, and had they got through the gate they

would have been eaten up inside.

So the Romans fell back leisurely after a terrible carnage.

While the remnants of the Carthaginians were rallying within the

walls, Scipio, without giving them time for rest, instantly despatched

a large number of men with scaling ladders to assault that part of the

walls which was situated near the principal gate. He himself followed

to superintend. Racing across the open, carrying the long ladders, the

Romans speedily reared them in a hundred places at once. But the

ladders were scarcely long enough to reach the top; moreover, Elissa

was ever present in person to animate and encourage the defenders. In

many cases the ladders broke with the weight of the many armed men

upon them, who were thus cast headlong; in other cases, the men at the

top became giddy, and fell off, carrying others with them, while those

who actually reached the top of the battlements were hurled backwards

upon their comrades.

Scipio himself, covered by three men armed with linked oblong shields,

to protect him from the vast number of missiles being hurled, visited

every part of the line in turn to encourage his followers; but it was,

he saw, of no use. Elissa, from the top of the ramparts, for her part

soon recognised him. Standing exposed upon the wall, she cried out to

him scornfully by name, saying that she, although only a woman, had

but one shield to his three, and that, nevertheless, she defied him to

single combat. And then she cast several javelines, accompanying each

dart with bitter and mocking remarks; but they were all warded off by

the shields of his three protectors. A second time was Scipio now

compelled to sound a retreat, and this time his men fell back in

confusion. Scipio, however, noticed that now the time had come for the

ebb of the tide from the lagoon, and further, that a strong north wind

was causing the waters to run out very swiftly.

Therefore, to engage the attention of the triumphant Carthaginians, he

now sent a fresh body of a thousand troops, with more scaling ladders,

to the assault at the same place as before, while he himself with

another large body of men, after a lateral movement to his left,

plunged into the lagoon, crying out to his troops that Neptune was, as

he had foretold, coming to his assistance by draining off its waters.

The water was not at first more than waist deep, and soon only knee

deep. Therefore, quite unobserved by the combatants near the gate, he

contrived to cross in safety and to mount the walls unopposed. Then,

rushing along the walls with one party, he soon drove most of the

defenders off the ramparts. Another party he sent to attack the

defenders of the gate from the inside. At the same time, the Romans on

the outside, hacking away at the gate with axes, cut it through, and

thus was it captured from within and without at once. In the meantime,

the Romans with the scaling ladders, who had attacked from the dry

land, also got over the walls as the defenders fell back before

Scipio’s party.

The loss on the Carthaginian side was now terrible, as the Romans,

forcing their way into the town by the gate and ramparts alike,

advanced, killing every living creature they met, whether man, woman,

child, or even domestic animals. This was done to strike terror into

the heart of the people, and was an old Roman custom upon such

occasions. Scipio, meanwhile, with a band of warriors continued to

advance along the ramparts, and soon met in hand-to-hand combat Elissa

with her guard. He cried to her to yield, but her only reply was a

dart, which transfixed his shield, for he had now but one. The

terrible hand-to-hand struggle continued on the walls, the assailants

and defenders alike seizing each other by the waist and casting each

other over.

At length, just as Scipio thought he was about to capture Elissa and

her few remaining followers, she gave an order to her men, who, all

turning swiftly, ran until they reached the gate in the wall of the

palace, which they entered, the gate being closed and the drawbridge

raised in the face of the victorious Scipio, who was thus baulked, for

the moment at all events, of his prey. It would, indeed, have been a

triumph for Elissa could she have but continued the struggle until

nightfall. For then she and those with her might have escaped by a

secret path they knew of down the rocks. But it was not to be!

Scarcely had she gained the shelter of the garden when a storming

party of truculent seamen, headed by Caius Lælius himself, with whom

was also Marcus Primus, burst over the walls on the seaward side. And

now another terrible struggle took place--this time in the garden--the

flowers being all trampled down, and the garden walks and statues

being soon covered with blood.

At length, old Gisco and nearly all her guard being killed, Elissa

herself now quite exhausted, with a javeline transfixed in her

shoulder, resolved to die, sword in hand. She rushed upon Caius

Lælius, calling upon him loudly by name to slay her and so save her

from dishonour. But, her foot slipping in a pool of blood upon some

marble slabs near the fountain, she fell. Caius Lælius himself seized

her, and easily disarming her, made her his prisoner, thus protecting

her from further injury. And then Caius took the palace and all within

it without more bloodshed. For none but women were left alive inside.

In the meanwhile, Mago and all his remaining men in the citadel and

upon the hill of Æsculapius had surrendered, and after this the order

was given to plunder the town.

Thus did the city of New Carthage fall into the hands of the Romans

under Scipio. He, the gates of the garden being thrown open to him

from within, arrived upon the scene before Elissa had been removed

within the palace walls, and terrible, indeed, was the scene of

carnage that met his view in the once peaceful garden. For, animated

by Elissa’s personal presence, the palace guard and Elissa’s own

body-guard had fought around her with the heroism of despair. Thus,

there were quite as many corpses or wounded men of the Romans as of

the Carthaginians lying about in all directions. Some even were lying

dead or dying, half in and half out of the fish-pond, the waters of

which were crimson with blood, while the gold-fish, sickened by the

gore, were swimming round and round in little circles, belly

uppermost.

In other places the bodies of dead men, some of whom yet grasped each

other by the throat, were half-buried in masses of geranium or

carnation plants, the crimson of whose petals formed but a variety of

colour with the crimson and purple hues of the still warm life-blood

with which the green leaves were all drenched and befouled. Others,

again, in falling, had clasped a standard rose-bush, and, pulling it

down with them, now lay with their pale faces turned skywards, buried

in a mass of sweet-scented roses pressing against their ghastly

cheeks.

Although her left shoulder was pierced and mangled, Elissa’s wound was

not apparently very dangerous. She had retained perfect consciousness

while Caius Lælius extracted the weapon, which he did by cutting off

the haft and drawing the head through; but from the agony caused by

this operation she had swooned and fallen back insensible only a

moment before Scipio arrived upon the scene of the bloody conflict;

and she was now lying as one dead.

CHAPTER VI.

CŒCILIA’S DEGRADATION.

Scipio burst into the palace garden flushed with the joy of victory,

but when he saw his beloved Elissa lying at his feet, he forgot

everything, save that there lay, apparently lifeless, the body of the

woman whom he loved. He stood for a moment gazing, then angrily turned

upon Lælius.

“What is this, Caius? Hast thou slain her? Thou hast surely not dared

to slay Elissa? But nay, my friend,” he continued, his anger quickly

turning to grief, “I know that thou didst love her even as I did.

Forgive me for thus wronging thee. Give me thy hand, my comrade.”

Then throwing himself upon the ground by her side, Scipio cried:

“Oh, Elissa, my beloved Elissa, art thou dead? for if thou art, then

will I not survive thee! Gone is the glory of my victory! thrice

accursed be the hand that hath struck thee down!”

Gently he raised her in his arms, and, aided by Caius Lælius,

reverently they removed her golden helmet and the corselet of steel

inlaid with gold, beneath which she was clad in but a silken vest of

Tyrian purple, which, being all drenched with blood, they were forced

partly to remove in order to staunch the still flowing gore.

Commanding his followers to fall back to a distance, Scipio remained

upon his knees supporting her, with her beautiful face lying upon his

shoulder; while Caius Lælius brought some water in his helmet from

the waters of the upspringing fountain, which were fresh, and

unstained with blood.

While she was being supported thus, and the two men were ministering

to her, bathing her face and binding up her wound, Elissa recovered

her senses with a sigh.

For a few seconds she did not realise the situation, and remained

motionless, and then the whole sad truth burst upon her. With a bitter

smile she spoke.

“And so it hath then come to pass, oh, Scipio! and thou hast conquered

me and killed my faithful troops, and I am now thy slave. I have not

forgotten! I was but now, even as thou art thyself, a warrior, then

why hast thou removed my harness and exposed my person to the crowd,

and why dost thou embrace me thus, even on the battlefield itself?

Surely ’tis unmanly of thee. Oh, I do hate thee, Scipio! Release me, I

beg of thee, and insult me not in public.”

With a look of repulsion on her beautiful pale face, she turned from

him, and would have withdrawn herself from his embrace, but was too

weak.

“Nay, nay, dear Elissa, mistrust me not,” rejoined Scipio, with the

air not of a conqueror, but of a very suppliant. “Thou dost wrong me.

’Twas but to save thy life that Caius and I alone, both thy friends,

have thus removed thine armour; and even now the joy of seeing thee

living far outweighs the grief caused by the bitterness of thy words.”

“And so ye are my friends, are ye? Pretty friends, in sooth, to war

upon a woman and murder all my people!” answered Elissa, arguing, like

a woman, unreasonably, and forgetting that all the bloodshed could

have been spared and no lives lost had she but accepted the offered

terms of amnesty.

“Is that, too, a friend?” she asked, pointing with her unwounded arm

to a Roman warrior who, sorely smitten, was lying near, in whom she

recognised Marcus Primus. “Art thou my friend, oh Marcus? Thou who

hast eaten the bread of our hospitality here, but who as a return did

by treachery escape, and lead back an army to slay those who succoured

thee when thou wast wounded and in distress. And is thy paramour, the

Princess Cœcilia, likewise my friend? Oh! I see it all now, thy

pretended suicide arranged with her, and that ’twas she who taught

thee the secret of the lowering of the waters of the lagoon. If this

be friendship, a curse I say upon all such friends! and may the

dreadful and undying curse of all the almighty gods fall upon both

thee and thine accomplice.”

“Nay, curse me not, and I so near death, Elissa,” the young man

replied feebly; and the tears came to his eyes, partly from pain at

witnessing the bitter distress of this noble young woman, partly from

excessive weakness. “I do most deeply grieve for thy sorrow, believe

me, and I have but fought for my country as thou hast so nobly done

for thine. I pray thee, then, remove thine awful curse from the head

of a dying man, or I may not die in peace. Remove that curse, I pray

thee once more, then may we meet as brethren in a country where is no

war, when it shall be thine own time to cross the Styx.”

“I pray the great god Melcareth that that time be now near at hand,

oh, Marcus. In sooth, I feel anew so weak that we may perhaps cross

the Styx together; and since ’twould be strange and sad to commence a

new existence together as enemies, I will even revoke my curse upon

thee, yet not my curse from the head of Cœcilia.”

“Who hath never done thee any wrong, and is most loyal,” replied the

dying Marcus Primus. “I thank thee much, Elissa,” he added, with a

gasp. And then, with this noble lie upon his lips, uttered merely to

save the woman who had loved and befriended him, he gave a long, sad

sigh, and fell back dead.

“Scipio,” quoth Elissa, now very faintly, for she had lost much blood,

“I think I likewise am dying, and ’tis not meet that I should die thus

in the arms of an enemy of my country; therefore, if thou hast any

nobility of soul, thou wilt release me and send for Cleandra, one of

my women. Know this, I do not, nay, I cannot hate thee as I ought. I

might even have loved thee had things been otherwise, for thou art

most wondrous kind; but if thou dost love me, then let me not, for my

country’s sake, for my lover Maharbal’s sake, for mine own honour’s

sake, die thus in thine arms; but yet I thank thee and Lælius

likewise.”

Her last words were scarcely audible.

Scipio, himself nearly as pale as Elissa, pressed one reverent kiss

upon her lips, and murmured:

“I obey thy behest, Elissa.” Then he laid her gently down, and,

leaving Lælius with her, dashed within the palace for the first time,

wandering vaguely about, and calling for the woman named Cleandra, who

was soon brought out to him from among the captives.

Leading her to Elissa, he gave his fair foe into Cleandra’s charge.

Elissa, now speechless with pain and weakness, yet still sensible,

gave him one look of gratitude, and then closed her eyes. And thus,

with instructions that she should be borne gently into her own

apartments, Scipio left her to see to his troops and to the thousands

of prisoners. The whole scene had not taken more than some ten

minutes.

There was plenty for Scipio to do, for now were all his generals and

captains attending upon him from all parts of the town to ask for

instructions on every subject. Among other points to be decided two

men were brought before him, each a claimant for the mural crown in

gold, promised to the first man who had escaladed the wall.

One of them was Quintus Trebellius, a centurion of the fourth legion;

the other was Sextus Digitius, a seaman; and a hot contest was on foot

between the soldiers of the land forces, and the seamen and marines of

the fleet, who espoused their rival claims with great warmth.

Although Scipio appointed three commissioners to decide the case, the

contest between the soldiers and the sailors became so hot that Caius

Lælius soon pointed out to his friend and leader that unless the

matter were decided so as to please both parties, a conflict would

probably break out.

Thereupon Scipio showed his tact. Calling both Trebellius and Digitius

before him, he complimented each of them warmly, said he was convinced

that they had both mounted the wall at the same time, and granted them

both mural crowns for valour. To his friend Lælius he also awarded a

mural crown, and gave him besides thirty head of oxen. Many other

rewards he gave to those who had distinguished themselves. In this way

he preserved peace in his camp, and all were satisfied and pleased

with their general.

There was another incident which occurred on the following day, which

did much to enhance young Scipio’s reputation with his troops, and his

popularity with the Iberians, hitherto the allies of Carthage.

From the period when, after the morning repast, Elissa had sallied

forth to repel the stormers, the lovely young girl Idalia had been

missing from the palace. In the confusion of the assault and

subsequent events, none of the frightened women in the palace had

observed her absence, but, once the storm completed and the Romans

masters of the place, the women, who were now prisoners, noticed that

she was no longer among their number.

When on the following morning Scipio was superintending the division

of the enormous plunder among the legions, a small knot of soldiers

were seen approaching him, leading a young girl, who was thickly

veiled from head to foot. Their leader, coming forward to Scipio,

addressed him as follows:

“Oh, Scipio, well is it known throughout the army that thou dost give

great rewards and mete out justice to others, and yet, save the reward

of honour, nought hast thou retained for thine own self. Now we, some

of thy followers, seeing that thou art a young man, and known from thy

youth to love the fair, have discovered a gift which we would offer

unto thee in the shape of a young virgin, who is fit for a king. For

we have thought that such a gift would be acceptable unto thee. We

took the girl yesterday, and she hath been religiously respected and

carefully veiled, lest any of the tribunes or prefects, seeing her,

should have become enamoured of her beauty and taken her away from us,

who would save her for thee.”

The young general’s curiosity was at once excited. Smiling, he said:

“I thank ye, my men, for your kind thought of your general; but come,

let us see this paragon of beauty. Unveil her.”

When the thick covering which alone concealed the face and form of the

maiden was removed, Scipio and all the officers near him were simply

astounded at the excessive loveliness of the charming Idalia, who, her

eyes suffused with tears and her face and bosom with burning blushes,

stood revealed, trembling before him.

Scipio was moved to pity for her wretched condition.

“By Hymen and Venus! thou hast spoken the truth, my men, and I do

greatly thank ye for this beautiful present. For never save in one

woman alone,”--he was thinking of Elissa--“have I seen aught so lovely

in the human form. My men, since ye have made me the gift, I shall

retain it to do as I choose with, and ye shall be all suitably

rewarded. And were I other than the general commanding the forces,

there is no present which could have been so acceptable. But seeing

that I am the general, it becomes me to use a little self-denial in

this matter. Therefore, lest from gazing too long upon such charms I

should begin to think that I am but a private person who can do as he

chooseth in such a matter, give me that veil.”

Taking the heavy veil he went up to the trembling girl, and reassuring

her kindly, covered her shoulders and limbs with it. At the same time

he gave her a fraternal kiss on the cheek, bidding her not to fear,

for he would be as a brother to her. But Idalia, broken down with all

the suffering and shame that she had undergone, and moved by Scipio’s

unexpected kindness, threw herself down and, clasping his knees, would

have kissed his feet. This he would by no means allow, but raising her

gently, inquired into her condition and the circumstances attending

her capture.

Then the soldiers told him that on the previous day, when the order

had been given for a space to slay every living thing that they met,

but not to begin to plunder until further orders, they had pursued

some fugitives into the porch of a doorway and killed them. Glancing

within a room beyond, they had seen a wounded Iberian chieftain, and

were about to kill him also, but that this maiden had flung her body

full length upon the Iberian, and clung to him so tightly that they

had been unable to slay him without wounding or perhaps slaying her

also. Then had their leader, the same who now had addressed Scipio,

reminded the men that the order was to kill all whom they should meet

in the streets, but that there was no order to slay those in the

houses, and as the young man himself also offered, in the Latin

tongue, a large ransom for his life, they had spared them both.

“In that ye have done well,” said Scipio; “and thy reward shall be the

greater,” continued he to the leader, “for that thou didst exactly

obey and follow out mine orders to the letter. For mine order was

indeed but to slay all living things ye met in the street; there was

no order to slay those in the houses. Now tell the Quæstors, whose

duty it is to take the money for such as are ransomed, where this

young man lies, and when they have rewarded you as I shall direct, ye

can depart, leaving the maiden here.”

So the soldiers all received large sums of money, and their leader in

addition had a magnificent golden ring presented to him, and they

departed rejoicing.

Scipio took Idalia with him to the palace, where Elissa was delighted

to see her once more. Scipio, then sending for Allucius, prince of the

Celtiberians, whose life had been twice saved by his beautiful lover,

first by dragging him when wounded into a house, and then by covering

his body with her own, caused him to be brought before him in a

litter. The ransom for his life was paid by the father and mother of

the maiden, the former being an Iberian noble and the latter a

Carthaginian lady.

When they were all assembled together before him, Scipio handed over

the ransom that had been paid for his life to Allucius as a wedding

portion, and ordered the father and mother to have the wedding

celebrated at once between him and the lovely Idalia, without even

waiting for his recovery from his wound.

The fame of this action soon spread throughout all Spain and inclined

the Iberians greatly to Scipio; but whether he would have acted thus

had it not been for his own great love for Elissa, no man can tell.

The next few days were passed by the young Roman general in making

arrangements about his prisoners, of whom he disposed in various ways,

generally acting with great leniency to the Iberians, and pressing all

the surviving soldiers of other nationalities into his own navy, thus

largely augmenting his fleet. Of such men and women as were made

slaves he made a suitable disposition, rewarding his generals and

tribunes with the best of each. And thus Cleandra was presented to

Caius Lælius and the other women in the palace were disposed of

according to rank and beauty to the higher nobles in the army. Of

Elissa there was no word said, but it was understood as a matter of

course that she belonged to Scipio himself. Yet was she treated with

all honour. As Lælius remained in the palace with Scipio, she still

had her friend Cleandra to minister to her; and Scipio himself, much

as he longed to see her face again, refrained entirely from intruding

upon her privacy.

One woman there was however in the palace for whom neither the general

nor the admiral felt any goodwill, and this was the Princess Cœcilia.

Young Marcus Primus being dead, there was now none to speak for her,

and both Scipio and Lælius resented the knowledge of the fact that

never could the battlements have been so easily surmounted or the city

captured by the passing of the lagoon had it not been for the

treachery of that woman towards her niece Elissa.

Therefore, at the instance of Lælius, his original proposition, made

in jest at the camp of Tarraco, was carried out. It was resolved that

she should be married to the chief boatswain of the flag-ship. This

man’s name was Valerius, and he was a most truculent-looking ruffian,

of great size. He was much renowned for his bloodthirstiness in

action, but was a good sailor, and extremely feared by all in

authority under him.

To him then was the Princess Cœcilia offered as his wife by his

chief, Caius Lælius. He was given to understand that a lady of such

high rank was offered to him as a reward for his bravery in the

storming of the town. When, moreover, he was promised a considerable

dowry of her own money, as well as her person, he was both flattered

and delighted. He could not speak any language save Latin, and of that

tongue his intended bride did not understand a word. For the diversion

of the nobles in the palace, the marriage was, despite the pitiable

lamentations of the unwilling bride, celebrated one day with much

festivity and license, for much wine was purposely given to the seamen

at the feast that the traitress might be made to feel her punishment

the more. And when night fell the now drunken boatswain carried off

his bride, who had been forced to attire herself with great splendour,

from the palace, where she had lived for so many years, to a mean

fisherman’s cottage by the port. She had been given to Valerius for

the purpose intentionally, that she might be able to reflect therein

at leisure upon the vicissitudes of life, of which her treachery to

her niece had been the direct cause, and of her own repeated acts of

folly that had led to the treachery. Elissa, who was aware of what was

about to take place, had, although the princess had begged her in

their sole interview to intercede on her behalf, refused absolutely,

with the utmost scorn and loathing to do so. She had, moreover,

reproached her bitterly with being the cause of all the bloodshed and

of the loss of the town and of the enslavement of them all. In

conclusion, she informed Cœcilia that, should she open her lips to

mention her name to Scipio, it would not be to ask for a

reconsideration of the matter of her marriage, but only to beg that he

would inflict some far more terrible punishment.

This was the last time that Elissa and Cœcilia ever met, and from

this time forth the princess disappears entirely from this history,

for her subsequent fate is unknown. One thing only is certain, that

when Caius Lælius sometime later sailed for Italy, the boatswain did

not take his wife with him. So it is probable that he had either

drowned her in the gulf, wrung her neck, or sold her into slavery.

CHAPTER VII.

A RENUNCIATION.

A few days after the marriage of the boatswain to the unworthy

Princess Cœcilia, Elissa was able to rise from her couch and attire

herself with Cleandra’s aid. Very miserable and down-hearted was she

when, looking forth from that same window whence some years before she

had seen the fleet of the treacherous Carthaginian Adherbal, she could

now see nought but warships flying the Roman standard. Looking towards

the battlements, she saw now, instead of Carthaginians, only Roman

soldiers pacing up and down in their coats of mail, or resting upon

their long pikes and looking out over the walls. Upon gazing from

another window first towards the citadel and then to the hill of

Æsculapius, she saw flying from both, instead of the white horse on

the purple ground, the Roman eagle proudly displayed.

She groaned aloud and beat her breast, then covering her eyes, burst

into a flood of weeping.

“Oh, Cleandra!” she cried, “it is then indeed a reality, a sad

reality! During my great sickness I have thought almost that ’twas but

a bad dream. But those Roman ensigns, those Roman soldiers everywhere,

are, alas! too convincing. Oh, why are the gods so cruel? Why was I

ever born to experience such bitter and great humiliation? Oh, hast

thou no poison concealed with which I may end my miserable existence

forthwith, rather than live another day to witness my country’s shame

and endure mine own dishonour? Give me but a dagger or a sword that I

may slay myself, for live I cannot! I long for instant death.”

“Nonsense, dear Elissa,” said Cleandra. “To talk of death at thine age

is but folly. Thou must live, if only in the hopes that the day may

come when thou shalt see fortune’s wheel spin back the other way

again. Thou must live if only for the sake of thy country, to whom

thou mayst bring some succour living, but to whom thou wilt be

assuredly most useless dead. Besides, I have no poison to give thee,

nor is any weapon at hand. All such have been carefully removed by

Scipio’s orders.”

“Then, wouldst thou, Cleandra, have me live to see me the slave of

Scipio? I, Elissa, daughter of Hannibal, how could I ever survive the

terrible indignity? Nay, if there be no poison, if there are no arms,

I can yet cast myself from the walls, and I will do so even now.”

Springing forward and opening the door of her apartment, she ran down

a corridor, pursued by Cleandra begging her to stay. However, she

found the end guarded by Roman soldiers, who respectfully, but firmly,

barred her way. Elissa then turned down another corridor which led to

a side exit into the garden. There again she found Roman guards. It

was now occupied as the barrack-room of the officers’ attendants, the

sleeping apartments of some of the generals and superior officers

leading out on either side from the corridor.

Caius Lælius himself, hearing a disturbance, came forth.

“What is the matter, Cleandra?” he inquired, seeing that the girl was

supporting in her arms the pale-faced and unhappy Elissa, who was

leaning back panting against a wall. “I fear that Elissa is

distraught, Cleandra,” he continued; “lead her back carefully to her

apartment, and see to it that thou dost watch her well.”

Lælius spoke kindly but as one in authority to Cleandra, for she was

now his slave. And he gave Cleandra assistance in taking the unhappy

girl back to her apartment, where he left her under Cleandra’s care.

Cleandra sought to console her.