land-locked bay there is nought for thee to fight, unless it be with
yonder monstrous shark, whose triangular back fin appeareth moving
lazily above the surface of the pellucid waters. Ugh! I hate sharks!
and this one hath followed us for days. Canst thou not fancy his
horrid teeth meeting through thy flesh?”
And, clasping her hands to her bosom, Cleandra shuddered.
“Ay, what would the lady Elissa do with her arms here upon my ship?”
asked courteously Marcus Æmilius, who had followed Cleandra. “Hath
she cause of offence against any person that she need defend herself
while being my guest? If so, by the Olympian Jove, the offender shall
suffer for it.”
“Nay, nay, good Marcus!” answered Elissa, laughing at the young man’s
serious looks, “I need not mine armour for any defensive purposes, but
merely as solid food wherewith to feed yonder hungry shark. For
henceforth I will be a woman only, and mine only defence shall be my
virtue; or, rather,” she continued, smiling bitterly, “so much of it
as King Philip hath left me. I have no longer need for sword or
shield, neither helmet nor cuirass can make me what I was; no arms,
alas! can give me back the self-respect that was mine before I fell
into the clutches of Philip of Macedon; thus I will no more employ
them to slaughter hapless beings who may already, perchance, have
suffered as deeply as I have myself.”
She paused, and furtively wiped away a tear, for she was, indeed, all
woman now. Stooping, she seized upon her helmet, rose, and cast it
overboard.
Like a streak of light did the shark, with gleaming side, dash through
the water. Turning belly upwards, he seized the helmet, displaying two
triple rows of teeth just below them as they stood by the bulwarks.
Cleandra screamed at the sight of the horrid monster so close to her,
and seized Marcus tightly by the arm.
“Dost thou see the brute?” quoth Elissa; “he eateth, with the
digestion of an ostrich, everything, no matter of what description,
that falls overboard; I have watched him for days. He would, indeed,
make but one bite of thy sweet rounded form, my dear Cleandra, so
grasp thy Marcus firmly.
“But now,” she continued, “he shall have that I never yet yielded to
living man--and much good may it do him.”
So saying, she cast her bared sword into the water. The savage brute
dashed at it as before, and caught the glittering weapon in its
gigantic maw.
In striving to close its mouth, however, the point entered deeply into
the upper jaw, while the hilt remained against the lower one. Thus,
the huge beast could not close its horrid teeth, but remained lashing
furiously with its tail the waters, which were soon tinged with blood.
Meanwhile, while watching the struggles of the gigantic shark, Elissa
threw over in turn her cuirass and her sheath of darts.
There now remained nought but her shield. Elissa picked this up,
intending that it should follow all the rest. But her hands were
unequal to the deed. As she gazed down upon the golden horse in its
centre, the salt tears fell upon the polished but dinted steel,
wherein she seemed to see as in a mirror all her warlike past, all
those deeds of arms that she was renouncing now for ever.
“Oh, I cannot do it, I cannot do it!” she sobbed. “I cannot cast away
my shield, my last defence, so oft my trusty friend.”
Gently, the loving Cleandra wound an arm round the beautiful young
woman and soothed her, while Marcus Æmilius, embarrassed beyond
measure, and, as a warrior, grieved also at the scene he had been
witnessing, in seeing these arms cast away, turned to the side of the
ship to watch the still struggling tiger of the deep, who, now that he
was in adversity, was being attacked by several others of his own
kind. For some small ground sharks, that had not hitherto shown
themselves, suddenly appeared from the bottom of the bay, and were
savagely tearing away at his defenceless sides, biting out huge
pieces.
Elissa, recovering herself, pointed out what was taking place to
Cleandra.
“How like humanity! where the little are ever ready to take advantage
of the misfortunes of the great. And how like a warrior deprived of
sword and shield, ay, even like myself, is that now defenceless
monster. But although in future I will be woman, not warrior, I will
not after all cast away that emblem of a warrior’s defence, for which
a woman hath no need.”
She drew herself up proudly, and approached the Roman.
“Marcus Æmilius, since thou art my defence at this moment, and since,
by all the gods! I do most sincerely trust in thine honour, I will
even confer upon thee that which hath been the safeguard of Hannibal’s
daughter from Roman weapons in many a bloody field. For no need have
I, now nought but a mere woman, for a shield, being under the care of
an honourable man. Therefore take thou my buckler, and keep it, for
Elissa’s sake.”
The handsome young ambassador was a most courtly knight. He threw
himself upon one knee to receive the tendered gift. While he received
the shield with one hand he raised the other to heaven in an
invocation.
“May the great god Jupiter destroy me with his thunderbolts, if ever I
should part from this most sacred shield, or should I ever harm a hair
of the head of the most gracious and lovely lady who hath bestowed it
upon me.”
He kissed Elissa’s hand, then rising and holding the shield with all
honour, as though it were an offering consecrated to the gods, Marcus
Æmilius bore it with him to his cabin.
Meanwhile, the little sharks were still tearing the big shark to
pieces, and, as the monster writhed about in its agony, the rays of
the sun were frequently brilliantly reflected from Elissa’s sword
blade fixed upright in the midst of its horrible fangs. But even as
Æmilius disappeared from view, bearing her shield, so with a last
convulsive struggle did the monster sink, followed by its tormentors.
Elissa accepted this as a good omen, a sign that her own troubles were
buried for ever with her sword at the bottom of the sea. And she felt
happier and altogether more womanly now that she had thus divested
herself of her arms and armour.
The voyage was a long one, owing to the adverse breezes, which made
the crossing of the southern part of the Adriatic impossible for a
time; but at length, the wind changing, the ships were able to issue
from the Grecian land-locked harbour, where they were lying, and pass
swiftly across to the entrance of the Tarentine Gulf, situated between
the Iapygian and Bruttian promontories, which form, as it were,
respectively the heel and the toe of the south of Italy.
As the ships sailed in, the day being remarkably clear, Æmilius
pointed out to Elissa and Cleandra something white glistening on the
hill-tops to the far west across the gulf. This, he informed them, was
the celebrated temple of Juno Lacinia, which was held most sacred by
all, and especially by seamen, as it formed a landmark for them to
steer by. What neither Æmilius nor Elissa knew, however, was that
Hannibal her father was at that very time encamped with his forces in
the sacred groves and parks surrounding the temple. For he had made of
that spot, known as the Lacinian Promontory, his head-quarters.
Although some Carthaginian vessels were sighted in the distance, and
Æmilius had some anxiety in consequence, he managed to elude them,
and to arrive with his three ships safely within the harbour of
Tarentum. Before entering the harbour, a great part of the town had
been passed, and Elissa noticed that it had a miserable and deserted
look. This was not surprising, for, upon its recent delivery by
treachery to the Romans, thirty thousand of its Greek inhabitants had
been sold into slavery, while all its Bruttian inhabitants had been
massacred. Moreover, all the famous statues and works of art in the
city had been taken away to Rome.
CHAPTER II.
ELISSA WRITES TO SCIPIO.
When the three Roman warships were safe within the shelter of the
harbour, the entrance to which was completely dominated by the
citadel, now full of Roman soldiers, the first thing that was pointed
out to Elissa was the place where her father Hannibal had, by night,
some years previously, withdrawn the Tarentine fleet from the waters
and conveyed the whole of the ships on wheels and rollers across the
isthmus into the open seas without. At the same time Æmilius dwelt
with pride upon the fact that, although Hannibal had entered the town
by the treachery of two of its inhabitants to Rome, and eventually
lost it again by the treachery of its commander to Carthage, yet had
her father never been able to capture the citadel, notwithstanding his
several years’ occupation of the city.
The arrival of the young ambassador and his squadron created no slight
stir in the place, and the three quinquiremes had no sooner cast
anchor than the Roman governor of the town, one Caius Tacitus, lost no
time in coming off in his State barge to visit the envoy, and to learn
the latest tidings from the court of Philip.
When the governor found that Elissa was on board, as the friend, not
the prisoner of Marcus Æmilius, his surprise knew no bounds. Nor was
his surprise modified when he learned that Hannibal’s daughter was on
her way to Rome to marry Scipio. Withholding any news of Italian
matters until later, Caius invited Marcus and his guests to come
ashore without delay, when he entertained them right royally to a
banquet in the citadel.
It was during this banquet that Elissa became aware of two
circumstances. The first was that her father was encamped with his
forces somewhere in the Bruttian Peninsula, at some point probably
within a hundred Roman miles of where she then was; the second that,
despite his youth, Scipio had been elected consul for the year, and
had been recently despatched into Sicily. Thither he had been sent
with two Roman legions as a nucleus, and was now busy raising a large
army from various sources and building a fleet with which to cross
over the sea to Carthaginian soil.
This information gave Elissa much cause for reflection; for it was,
indeed, thoroughly calculated to arouse all kinds of conflicting
feelings in her mind.
The calm which had so recently existed in her breast was already
disturbed, and once again all was riot and chaos within. For her duty
now scarcely seemed so clear to her as it had been, when all that was
required of her was to go straight to Rome and join Scipio, and when
she had had no idea of her own father’s likely proximity. She wondered
now if it were not rather her duty to endeavour by some means or other
to join her father.
That night, after her return to the ship, she pondered long on the
subject, nor would she hold any converse with Cleandra, who was
anxious to know how Elissa had taken the news. Her she sent to talk
with Æmilius, while keeping apart herself in a separate part of the
ship. And thinking of her father’s many exploits, by one alone of
which this very city of Tarentum was to be for ever celebrated, she
remained gazing into the night, and most ardently did Elissa offer up
her prayers to the great god Melcareth that he would guide her in this
juncture. She was not weighing in her mind the possibility of carrying
out any plan of escape to her father’s camp, but rather that which
would be right and just for her to do in the sight of heaven. At
length light came to her brain and her course seemed clear. Evidently
she was bound more than ever now to fall in with Scipio’s wishes;
bound in honour to him, for was she not now by his means safely
removed from the clutches of the detested Philip? and, more than ever,
for the very sake of Carthage, for, while the Phœnician power was
diminishing to a vanishing point all over the world, the power of Rome
was ever increasing by leaps and bounds.
Further, since Scipio had, in addition to all the honours he had won,
now been appointed consul, he would be in a far better position to
make himself heard before the Senate in a matter of peace and war.
Moreover, the invasion of Carthage clearly depended in a great measure
upon him alone, since he had only been provided with two legions to
start with, which legions consisted merely of the runaways from the
battle of Cannæ, who had been kept for punishment in Sicily ever
since. Thus, upon the celerity and ability which, acting entirely upon
his own resources, he might display in getting an army together and
likewise a fleet, would entirely depend the possibility of a descent
upon Libyan or Numidian soil. Should she therefore marry him, that
invasion would not take place.
Having argued these points out in her own mind, Elissa put entirely on
one side any hopes that she might have for the moment entertained of
once more seeing her father, and determined to carry out the line of
action she had marked out for herself upon the night of leaving the
burning city of Abydos. Then seeking her couch, she slept peacefully.
Upon the following morn Marcus Æmilius informed her that his three
ships were to remain in Tarentum for a short time to re-fit and
re-provision, and further, until he himself could obtain direct
instructions from Rome as to his own movements. He added that he was
sending, in addition to messengers by land to Rome, a direct report of
all that had taken place to Scipio himself. This report would leave
that same night by a swift and celebrated blockade-runner, a
quadrireme that had been captured from the Carthaginians during the
siege of Syracuse. This quadrireme he intended to send first of all to
Syracuse, and, if Scipio were not there, then on to Libybæum, and
Panormus. He would be surely found in the vicinity of one of the three
ports, and in all probability at Syracuse, the most adjacent of the
three.
Upon hearing this, while regretting the delay which she feared might
perchance prove fatal, or result in herself being sent, not to Scipio,
but to Rome, Elissa determined upon writing to the consul. But first
she demanded urgently of Æmilius to send her to Scipio upon the
blockade-runner. This was, however, a responsibility which the young
envoy felt he could not bring upon himself to incur; for was she not,
he urged, entrusted to his safeguard and keeping, with all honour and
comfort, and that with a squadron for her protection? But should he
place her upon the blockade-runner, which was manned by a mixed and
ruffianly crew of Etruscan and Sicilian sailors, little better indeed
than pirates, who could tell what might be her lot, or if she would
ever be heard of again? These men were ever ready to sell themselves
to the highest bidder, and they were very highly paid for the great
risks that they ran; but who could tell, if they had such a valuable
prize as the daughter of Hannibal upon their vessel, to what uses they
might not turn the possession of her person?
Upon these grounds Marcus felt himself bound to refuse to accede to
her request. Therefore Elissa wrote to Scipio as follows:--
“From Elissa, daughter of Hannibal Barca, to Publius Cornelius Scipio.
“In the name of the great god Melcareth, and in the name of the sweet
goddess of love Tanais, greeting. My lord Scipio, I write unto thee in
Greek, even as thou didst unto me, for thy letter was duly delivered
unto me in the camp at Abydos by Marcus Æmilius, through the
intermediary of that very Cleandra unto whom Caius Lælius did send
greetings.
“Thy servant Elissa was at that time in great tribulation of mind and
body owing to the brutalities and wanton excesses of the Macedonian
king, Philip, into whose hands the mighty gods, doubtless for the
lowering of her pride, had surrendered her, helpless as the fly within
the web of the spider, or the gazelle beneath the paw of the lion.
Then was it that, with the nobility of soul that thy servant hath ever
recognised in thee since first we did meet at the court of King
Syphax, thou didst with thy letter procure calm for a troubled mind,
and pave the bridge of escape over the waters of despair. Know then
this, oh Scipio, I have carefully considered thy letter in all its
bearings, and am convinced equally by the compassionate affection and
the wisdom of thy words. Therefore is it that, braving the probable
anger of my father Hannibal, and trusting to the mercy of the almighty
gods to rightly guide my footsteps, I am willing to do thy will and
become thy wife, and am even now arrived as far as the city of
Tarentum upon my way to meet thee. One condition alone do I impose
upon thee, my lord Scipio, namely, that should I become thy wife
before the expiration of six full moons from this, the day of my
writing this letter, thou wilt not proceed further with thy
preparations for the invasion of Carthaginian soil, and wilt do thine
utmost to further the interests of peace between thy country and mine.
Should ought occur to prevent my placing my hand in thine before the
expiration of the soon advancing winter season, I do absolve thee from
any condition whatever. Further, neither will this my writing, nor
these my words be of any avail. For then it will be too late, and thou
must perforce put thine army in motion. In such case must we both
recognise that the gods themselves have willed matters thus, and that
the time will be past both for thee and for me to think of joining our
lives, whether with a view merely to our own mutual and personal
happiness, or to the welfare of our respective nations. Yet would I
gladly come to thee now, Scipio, ay, even by the very despatch vessel
that beareth thee this my letter. Yet hath Marcus Æmilius not deemed
it wise to allow my departure, and in all things have I hitherto found
him a man of rectitude and honour. Much would I write to thee, oh
Scipio, of all that hath happened to me since that day, now long gone
by, when I, no more then actually than thy slave by right of capture,
did embrace thee and call thee brother upon bidding thee farewell.
Alas! that the gods did not then point out to me the right path, else
had I never left thee, and never submitted to the horror of the
embraces of a Philip, a monarch unworthy of the name of king. Yet then
was Maharbal still living, and I pledged; but now have I heard in
Tarentum, even as thou didst write to me thyself, that both he and
Chœras, and all the other leaders of the Numidians, fell with most of
their men at Salapia, being caught without their horses, which were
camped without the walls. Thus am I absolved from that ancient
allegiance. Such is the will of the gods, and the fate of warriors and
women. Even I, Elissa, since bidding thee last farewell, have been
present in many bloody conflicts as of old; but now have I cast my
sword and other arms into the waters, and renounced warfare for ever.
Therefore, should it be the decree of Melcareth and of Tanais that we
should eventually be joined as one, thou needest not fear in future,
oh Scipio, for any such passages of arms beneath thy roof as when I
did cast my javelines upon thee without the walls of the New Town, or
strike down the men under Lælius in the palace garden. Nay, the only
darts that thou wilt have to fear will be those from a woman’s usual
weapon, the tongue. And even they shall only be delivered when thou
dost absent thyself too long from thine Elissa’s side. Now, fare thee
well, and may the gods preserve thee until we meet, and may that be
soon! Commend me, I pray thee, to Caius Lælius; I was right loth to
leave him in the ship before Syracuse without bidding him farewell,
especially as he was lying wounded. But his is a noble heart like
thine, Scipio, and he knew I could not do otherwise to get away. His
flag-captain, who did espouse Cleandra, was afterward slain. Cleandra
now doth love Æmilius, and would wed him, even when I wed thee. With
this object in view, she beggeth me to crave the forgiveness of
Lælius, that he will not enforce against her the rights against
runaway slaves. And this, I know, he will not do, both for thy sake
and for mine, for it was on my account only that Cleandra did escape
with me. Moreover, she was ever most tender and watchful to him until
then. And am not I, for that matter, thy runaway slave likewise?
Farewell again, Scipio. I pray the gods may now lead our feet together
into the paths of peace.
“(Sealed) Elissa.”
CHAPTER III.
A TERRIBLE SEA FIGHT.
Elissa did not have so long to wait as she expected for a reply to
her letter to Scipio, for the blockade-runner found him at Syracuse.
Owing to her speed, the favourable breezes, and to clever seamanship,
the quadrireme, having avoided all Carthaginian cruisers on the way,
was back again and lying safely in the harbour of Tarentum within ten
days of her departure. Her captain brought back with him a letter for
Elissa, and definite instructions to Æmilius, who was instructed to
come to Syracuse at once, while keeping well out to sea to avoid the
rival fleets off Locri.
To Elissa Scipio responded with his usual delicacy of feeling, the joy
and anticipation of probably soon meeting being so plainly evident
that even Elissa’s heart, which she had thought at rest, beat
considerably faster than for long past as she read his words. To all
that she proposed he had agreed, whether as regards the cessation of
the preparations for the invasion of Africa, or the immunity of
Cleandra from the consequences of her evasion of Caius. This he
promised personally for his friend in his absence at the siege of
Locri, on the south-east corner of the Bruttian peninsula, which was
being besieged by forces of his both by land and sea.
Had Scipio but received Elissa’s letter some time previously he would
not have sent his troops to commence the siege of that city, so he
said; but now the national honour was engaged on both sides, and there
was no going back for one or for the other.
In conclusion, Scipio laughed at her fears lest they should not be wed
in six months’ time, and therefore not at all; for he said the merry
wine-god Bacchus had appeared to him in a vision, and had distinctly
told him that he should be joined to her in marriage by a hoary-headed
priest with a snow-white beard down to the knees. Further, that after
the nuptials there would be much consumption of wine. He reminded her
that never yet had a heaven-sent vision of his failed to come true. He
therefore bid Elissa be of good cheer, for, as he had told her years
previously, they might yet rule the world together after all, and then
would come the era of perpetual peace and universal happiness.
When Elissa read this letter the tears came to her eyes, but they were
tears of joy. For she devoutly believed in Scipio’s visions, and
looked forward with unbounded delight to that era of perpetual peace
which, after so many terrible years of misery, she should so soon help
to inaugurate.
In the meanwhile the Carthaginian garrison of the town of Locri, aided
by the Bruttian inhabitants, were making a most vigorous resistance,
for they had the fate of the inhabitants of Tarentum before their
eyes. They knew well that the Romans, who never once on Italian soil
were able to defeat Hannibal in the field, upon recapture spared not
from universal death or slavery the inhabitants of any of the cities,
of no matter what nationality, which had from fear, self-interest, or
compulsion, yielded to his arms.
In addition to Tarentum which, being near at hand, was the most lively
example, the inhabitants of Locri had doubtless heard of the massacre,
torture, and slavery of the inhabitants of Capua by Appius Claudius,
and of the frightful scenes in Syracuse, which had been previously an
ally of Rome for fifty years, upon its capture by Marcus Marcellus.
Thus the wretched Locrini knew that there was nothing to expect save
death for all the men and old women, and dishonour for all the young
women, should the city fall.
And as it happened, once more by treachery from within, the city of
Locri did fall, and fall upon the very day that Marcus Æmilius, with
his three ships, was sailing due southwards from Tarentum past the
Bruttian headlands, keeping, according to Scipio’s instructions, well
out to sea. At the very time that the three ships were, after having
passed the Lacinian Promontory at a considerable distance, steering
still due southwards, some of the most horrible atrocities and
cruelties that the world has ever known were being enacted in the
streets and the interiors of the houses of Locri.
On that particular day it would have been far better for the Romans on
the three ships if they had kept closer into the land and coasted
close down the shore, for suddenly, although well out to sea, the
three Roman vessels found themselves surrounded by a mass of fishing
vessels, small boats, luggers, and even by several small war pinnaces.
All of these were crowded with miserable fugitives, laden with all
kinds of articles of furniture, weighing the boats down to the water’s
edge. Old men with white hair, women with babies in their arms, young
marriageable girls, these were the chief occupants of the boats. There
was a small number of able-bodied rowers also. These poor wretches had
evidently not waited for the actual fall of the town, but had started
to fly as soon as the ramparts were first stormed, having got their
boats all ready in advance. They were all steering northwards for the
city of Croton, lying behind the Lacinian Promontory, then in the
occupation of Hannibal, and were taking the shortest cut across the
arc of the very considerable bay which lies behind a headland a few
miles to the north of Locri.
Seeing the three war vessels in the offing, the flying Locrini
thought, from the direction in which they were coming, that they were
three Carthaginian warships coming from Croton; therefore they all
rushed in a confused mass towards them for safety. This mistake of
theirs was the more excusable inasmuch that, for fear of being
discerned from the Lacinian Promontory on passing, the three Roman
vessels were flying Carthaginian colours.
It was not until the first of the boats had actually met them, and
when the whole sea in front was so encumbered that progress was almost
impossible, that it dawned upon Æmilius and his captains what it all
meant. And then at a considerable distance, in fact, from just behind
the headland lying to the north of Locri, they could see some ten or
twelve Roman war vessels advancing, with a steady sweep of the oars,
in a line, pursuing these poor wretches. Their progress was slow, for
they stopped to rifle all the boats they overtook, and themselves put
out boats full of armed men, for that purpose. All the old men, the
sailors, and the elderly women were ruthlessly cut down and
slaughtered, while the babies were torn from their mothers, and thrown
into the water. The young women, however, were seized, thrown
violently down into the bottom of the boats, and then conveyed to the
war vessels, where their hands and feet were lashed with roughly-tied
ropes. There they were left in a struggling mass, writhing and
screaming on the decks, while the work of capture and murder proceeded
as before. The whole air was full of the screams of the dying, the
water full of drowning people and sinking boats; but the cries of the
women whose babies were torn from them and thrown into the water were
the worst and most agonising of all.
Before Marcus Æmilius had time to change the Carthaginian colours on
the masts for Roman ones, which it was necessary to do lest they
should be shortly attacked by their own advancing war-ships, the
unhappy creatures in the boats were closing upon them on all sides,
and swarming up the sides of the ships, or clinging to the oars in all
directions.
Now, sighting a fleet of twenty Carthaginian vessels just appearing in
their rear from behind the Lacinian Promontory, the Romans knew that
they must be taken unless they could extricate themselves in time from
the swarming wretches whose boats were not only delaying them, but
whose numbers, if they gained the decks, would sink them.
Therefore, with every kind of implement, from spear, sword, or axe,
down to capstan-bar, or belaying-pin, were the Romans now bound, in
absolute self-defence, to strike down mercilessly the miserable,
unarmed creatures who were clinging to the oars and climbing up the
sides. In many cases the women threw their babies on board the ships
first, then themselves climbed up after them, and for a time, at
least, a considerable number were continually gaining the decks, only
to be cut down and thrust overboard again. The water was red with
blood, and the oars clogged with the long hair of dead and living
which had got twisted and entangled round them. And of all this
terrible sight were Elissa and Cleandra the horrified and unwilling
spectators.
At length the people in the remaining boats seemed to realise the
situation. Leaving the three ships clear, they commenced to row well
outside of them to the right and the left. Then turning their prows to
the eastward, the three Roman ships charged with all their oars the
now attenuated line of boats on that side, and thus by smashing some
up, and passing clean over others, they gained the open waters. Rowing
with all their might, and steering at first due eastward, it seemed
for a time as if they would clear the left flank of the advancing line
of Carthaginian ships, many of which were now hampered with the
fugitive boats as they had been themselves. And the greater number
stopped to take on board the survivors. But there were five ships on
the extreme Carthaginian left which had particularly fast rowers, and
it was impossible to clear them. Turning their heads south once more,
the Romans tried to join the squadron of twelve which had come in
pursuit of the boats. But these, now being full of female captives and
other spoils, were in full retreat for the harbour of Locri, outside
which lay the main body of the Roman fleet under command of Caius
Lælius.
Caius had, as usual upon such occasions, himself landed with a
storming party, and knew nothing of this affair, especially as the
fugitives had got well away to the north before being discovered. At
length, seeing that three of the Carthaginian vessels only were
gaining upon them, while the other two were now a long way astern,
Marcus Æmilius determined to fight. He signalled to his other two
ships to slacken speed, then to turn round, halt, and lay upon their
oars.
“Get ready to lower the crows,” he cried, “and let the boarders be
ready standing by them.”
The “crows,” long and wide gangways with an iron spike at the higher
end, were fixed to the foremasts, round which they revolved on an iron
ring at the bottom, the spike end being near the mast-head, to which
they were held by pulleys. Men now stood holding the ends of these
pulleys ready to let go. The three Carthaginian ships were coming near
at hand--two quinquiremes and one gigantic hexireme--the latter being
the one that Æmilius determined to charge himself. Before the shock
of the contact Marcus perceived the two ladies standing on the poop.
Doffing his helmet, he kissed both their hands in turn.
“Fair lady Elissa, if I cannot bear thee to a loving and expectant
husband in the Consul Scipio, there is one thing I can do--I can fight
and die like a man. That is what it must come to; there are five ships
of your countrymen to three of mine. If we conquer the first three,
the two others will come with fresh men, and both, I see, are
hexiremes. They will crush us! Maybe one of our three ships may
escape; it will not be mine, for I shall not retreat unless we can
defeat in time our three present opponents, and so can all escape
together. Ladies, take ye this Carthaginian flag, and should matters
be critical, then hold it aloft over your bodies--it may prove your
salvation.” Then he added, “Farewell, beloved Cleandra, one last
embrace!”
Cleandra sprung into his arms, her face white and pale, but
determined. Elissa, who had been in many fights, had never looked more
noble than did now Cleandra, who had never yet been present in the
actual warfare of hand-to-hand combat.
“Fight, my noble Marcus!” she cried. “Fight nobly and fight well, and
in this battle, for thy sake, I will fight, too; and if thou diest I
will die, since, save for the lady Elissa’s sake, I am, through my
love for thee, a very Roman even as thou art.”
She clung to him one moment only, their lips met, then without another
word she released him and waved him forward. Stooping, she herself
picked up a battle-axe, all bloody as it was with the gore of recent
victims.
Then there was a fearful crash. All the six ships were in violent
collision at once. The two women both lost their feet, but jumping up
again, saw the crows falling with a smashing blow clear over the
bulwarks of the Carthaginian ships, the iron beaks fixing themselves
in the decks, and thus binding the hostile vessels together side by
side.
In a second, taking the Carthaginians by surprise in their rush, the
Roman boarders sprung along the crows and fell upon the foemen on
their own decks.
Æmilius had disappeared in the throng, and long the battle raged,
unevenly at first, and then entirely in favour of the Romans, who
slaughtered unmercifully. When nearly all the Carthaginian marines
were slain, suddenly the Romans, by order, rushed back to their ships,
along the crows or over the sides. Æmilius re-appeared upon his own
deck, apparently unwounded save for a small stream of blood trickling
down his cheek.
“Raise the crows swiftly!” he shouted, “and backwater with all the
oars.” For he saw that there was a fair chance of escape, and with
honour, the other two Carthaginian ships being still some way off. He
might even yet carry Elissa home in safety to the Consul Scipio. And
there would have been a chance of escape for the whole three ships had
it not so happened that, by mischance, the rope of the crow upon his
own ship had run out of the block or pulley, and was lying useless on
the deck. The crow could not be raised.
“Escape!” he cried to those on the two other ships, “escape at once,
and tell Scipio that I did my duty.” For he saw that they had their
crows raised, and could get away easily; in fact, they were already at
some distance, and moving astern.
But they were men of mettle, and would not escape to leave their
comrades behind. Even as the two fresh Carthaginian hexiremes closed
up, one on each side of the ship of Æmilius, which was still locked
with the hexireme first engaged, the two outside Roman ships returned
and closed in upon their outer sides. Down fell the crows once more,
the spikes penetrating the decks, and once more the battle was raging
on all sides, and it raged with fury. At length, Æmilius, quite tired
out, was beaten to his knees by a heavy sword blow, which, falling on
the junction of neck and shoulder, went through the leather
armour-flaps lying between helmet and cuirass.
Like a tigress Cleandra sprung to his side, and, with a terrible blow
with her war axe, clove his assailant’s skull in twain before he could
repeat the blow. A Carthaginian soldier behind the fallen man now
pierced her in turn with a spear, full in the bosom. She fell upon
Æmilius, her life-blood mingling with his own, while a Roman struck
down the Carthaginian who had pierced Cleandra.
At length, it was becoming evident that the Romans were overmatched by
these two ships full of fresh men. Moreover, the oarsmen of the first
hexireme had now left their banks of oars, and arming themselves with
the arms of dead comrades or of foemen, were joining in the fray.
Elissa stood on the end of the poop looking on. The Carthaginian flag
was lying on the taffrail, and, unaware of what she was doing, she was
leaning against it, clasping it with one hand. While she was standing
thus, there came surging forward from one of the other ships, upon the
bloody deck of that whereon she stood herself, an enormous man, a
regular giant. He was smiting with a double-edged sword to right and
left, and clearing as he went a lane before him. The affrighted and
wearied-out Romans still alive upon Elissa’s ship fled before him, and
crossing the Carthaginian ships, sprung to their outer vessels, and
attempted to cast loose the crows again. One, and one ship only
succeeded in so doing, and now the battle was ending, indeed ended. At
that moment the giant arrived, with his bloody sword raised, before
Hannibal’s daughter herself. He saw the Carthaginian flag, and it
caught his attention before he recognised the woman’s face. Then he
knew her again.
“Elissa! Art not thou Elissa? By the great gods, ’tis Elissa herself!”
But she had recognised him for several moments past, despite his
scarred cheek and grizzling hair. Thinking him dead, she had been
watching him spell-bound, fancying that she saw a spirit.
“Ay, Maharbal, I am Elissa, even Hannibal’s daughter. And thou, art
thou indeed Maharbal in the flesh? I heard that thou wast slain at
Salapia.”
“And what dost thou on this Roman ship, Elissa? As for me, thou seest
I was but half slain, since I have just slain half of these Romans in
revenge.”
“I was on my way from Philip of Macedon, from whom these Romans did
rescue me; and I was about to marry Cornelius Scipio, and thus bring
about a peace between Carthage and Rome.” She looked him calmly in the
face as she replied thus.
“Thou marry Scipio! By Moloch, never! That intention of thine I have,
thank the gods, now frustrated.”
Maharbal cried thus, furiously gnashing his teeth, for he had in years
gone by heard reports about his lady-love and Scipio which had not
pleased him greatly. He turned and roared out furiously to those on
the Roman vessel which was just sheering off.
“Hark, ye Roman dogs! tell ye Scipio from me that it is Maharbal, the
son of Manissa, who hath once again frustrated him--say that the said
Maharbal, who hath thrice spared the dog Scipio’s life, is by no means
disposed to accord him in addition his own intended wife; nay, not for
any Roman jackdaw, thinking himself an eagle, is Elissa, Hannibal’s
daughter. Now, go!” he added, in a voice of thunder. He spoke clearly,
and in excellent Latin, and every word of the insulting message was
understood.
As the Carthaginians were quite unable to pursue, the Roman vessel got
away in safety, bearing with it only a small living remnant of each of
the original crews of the three ships.
When Maharbal turned back to Elissa he found her paying no regard to
him whatever; she was, he saw, down upon her knees by a dying woman
and a dying man. And the woman had her arm around the man’s neck.
“It is Cleandra,” said Elissa sadly; “dost thou not remember her,
Maharbal? And now one of thy ruffians hath slain her. Oh, my poor
faithful, good Cleandra!” And stooping down she kissed her on the
lips.
The dying woman recognised the Numidian hero, her friend since
earliest youth.
“Maharbal!” said Cleandra, in a faint voice, “be kind to Elissa, and I
will pray the gods for thee. I shall see them soon.” She added still
more faintly, “Fare thee well, Elissa; I did ever love thee
faithfully.” Then she turned towards Æmilius, feebly placed her lips
on his, gave a shudder, and died.
A shiver passed through the form of the Roman at the very same
instant. He also was now dead.
Elissa rose, her dress all dabbled in blood.
“And yet,” she said fiercely to Maharbal, “even amid scenes like
this,” and she pointed with open hand at the dead couple lying at her
feet, “thou canst thank the gods, Maharbal, that thou hast frustrated
my intention of marrying Scipio, thereby to bring about a peace
between Carthage and Rome. Well, thank the gods if thou wilt, thou art
nought to me, thou bloody man! Begone from my sight! Begone I say, and
leave me here with my dead, whom thou and thine have slain.” She
stamped her foot.
As many a courageous and bloodthirsty man has been before, he was
utterly cowed by the righteous anger of a woman.
In such sad wise was, after many years, the meeting again of Maharbal
and Elissa. He, bold warrior as he was, slunk off to give some orders
to his men, feeling, he knew not why, that whereas a minute ago it had
been Elissa who was most terribly, irretrievably in the wrong, now he
had himself done something that he feared she might never forgive
throughout his lifetime.
Thus can a fearless and clever woman ever turn the tables upon a man,
in the most tragic as in the most trivial moments of existence.
CHAPTER IV.
ELISSA’S MISERY.
It was not to a bed of roses that Elissa returned when she first
rejoined her father in his camp upon the Lacinian Promontory. The
world had not been using him well, and his formerly jovial temper was
considerably embittered in consequence. He hated the Romans more than
ever, and was most contented that his daughter had been prevented from
carrying out her intended union with Scipio. But he was above
everything just, and saw in her intention her wish to act for her
country’s welfare; but while at heart approving her motive, he
objected to the actual intention itself, and would have been furious
had it been successfully carried out.
With regard to Philip of Macedon he felt differently. He was proud of
his daughter, and openly praised her for her self-sacrifice in that
matter. It was not her fault if her country had not reaped all the
advantages that it might have done from her nobility of soul and
self-abnegation. Hannibal recognised them all the same.
Thus after a time, when father and daughter had, so to speak, renewed
each other’s acquaintance, confidence was restored. Hannibal ceased to
blame her even in the matter of Scipio, when he learned at the
beginning of the spring that Scipio had actually at length passed over
into Numidia and was laying siege to the city of Utica, while Caius
Lælius was devastating the coasts with his ships. And Hannibal well
knew there was now no general capable enough on Carthaginian soil to
combat the invader with any hopes of success. All this might have been
prevented if Elissa had only got safe through to Sicily.
While Hannibal still maintained his own upon Italian soil, almost
capturing the town of Rhegium at the extreme south, and being
successful in other directions whenever he chose to issue from his
entrenchments, there ever continued to come bad news from Numidia.
While Scipio was over-running Numidia from end to end, avoiding any
walled towns, save only Utica, and capturing all the unwalled cities,
Utica held out nobly; and eventually, so gallant was her resistance,
that the siege was raised by Scipio after a naval battle in which the
Romans were defeated.
After the raising of the siege of Utica, the party of Hanno sent
envoys to Rome to try to make a peace, and this with Scipio’s
approval, for he had himself dictated the terms. He had been
everywhere successful except before Utica, nearly all the army of
Carthage had been destroyed, and having won quite sufficient military
glory, he was thinking how Elissa might even yet be his, if only a
peace could be quickly brought about. Great warrior as he was, he was
absolutely sated with blood, and would willingly have given to
humanity, had it been possible, a cessation from warfare.
Meanwhile Hannibal remained in Italy, with as much confidence and
security as though it were his own property. And so indeed was his
corner of the mighty peninsula, which he had over-run from end to end,
and whence, had he but had the necessary reinforcements sent to him,
he would have been ready at any time to spring forth once more like a
lion and devastate the fair Italian plains, right back to those Alps
whence he had long years before descended upon this promised land. But
where now were all those to whom he had promised it? How many were
left of the original band who had set out with him upon that wonderful
march from Spain? Of all the generals and captains who had started on
that journey Maharbal alone remained. Chœras, the cheery,
light-hearted poet, had been slain at Salapia, and all those of
superior rank who had marched across the Ebro were dead
also--Monomachus, Hanno, Hasdrubal the pioneer, and thousands more,
ay, even Hasdrubal the brother of Hannibal, who had marched over the
Alps to join him, all--all were gone! Only old Sosilus still remained.
No wonder that Elissa found her father morose and inclined to find
fault with a pitiless fate which had allowed the miserable ineptitude
of the rulers in Carthage to rob him of the benefit of all his
victories, of all his many years of warfare, and which had cost him
the lives of nearly all his old friends, and given no commensurate
return.
But still, not all the twenty legions that had been raised that year
in Italy could put him out of that last corner of Italy which he had
selected for his own. There he sat, like an eagle upon the rock; and
still, when like the eagle he chose to sally forth and swoop over the
plain, even as the frightened game flying before the monarch of the
skies would the Roman legions retire before him in the open and take
shelter in walled towns or strongly-entrenched encampments, which,
owing to his reduced numbers, he was unable to besiege. And thus it
remained to the end. Hannibal was never defeated in Italy.
Meanwhile, her father’s original attachment to Maharbal had, Elissa
found, gone on increasing, if possible, through all the years that
they had fought side by side, and especially since he had so nearly
lost his noble lieutenant’s life at the terrible slaughter of the
Numidians at Salapia. From that place, wounded in half-a-dozen places,
he had been one of the very few who had managed to cut their way
through to the horses.
But now, poor Maharbal was but general of the Numidians in name, for
there were no more than at most some seventy-five of the far-famed
Numidians left. And to his great chagrin, his cousin Massinissa, after
killing his uncle, King Syphax, in Numidia, had now placed many
thousands of Numidian cavalry in the field on Carthaginian soil, side
by side with the Romans. For he had, so it was rumoured, added all the
forces of the late King Syphax to his own, and all were in active
alliance with Scipio against Carthage.
Maharbal was now often almost as morose and moody as Hannibal himself;
but the Numidian had an extra cause for sorrow. For throughout the
whole of his long years of warrings in Italy, he had remained faithful
to Elissa. And now he found that she had ceased to love him. He had
been quite prepared to overlook her doubtful alliance with King Philip
of Macedon; but he found, to his surprise, that no magnanimity was
required upon his side, for Elissa would have nothing of him. He had
been ready to excuse both the original flirtation with Scipio at the
Court of Syphax, of which an exaggerated report had reached him, and
also her later determination to marry Scipio; but he discovered that
to be excused either on the one count or the other was the very last
thing that Elissa herself desired. In fact she deliberately refused to
acknowledge his right to interfere in, question, or condone her
conduct from any point of view. And he felt somehow that through the
barrier of reserve, which she had raised from the very moment of their
meeting again, it would be far more difficult for him to break than it
would have been for him to break down, single-handed, the Colline gate
of the walls of Rome, over which Hannibal had cast his spear in token
of defiance.
It was not that he found her hard to him, for, on the contrary, she
was gentle; but she was no longer in love with him; she was
indifferent. There is nothing so terrible for a man to contend against
in the woman who once loved him with all her heart and soul, with
every fibre of her frame, than this same indifference, that is, if he
love her still himself. Now, Maharbal loved Elissa still, and the more
indifferent she showed herself to him, the more he loved her. But it
is not to be wondered at if, after all she had gone through, Elissa
could not find it in her to rush violently all at once into a renewal
of her former relations with Maharbal. Not only were all her dreams of
an Utopia with Scipio now dashed to the ground, but she heard daily of
the terrible reverses that had occurred to her beloved Carthage, which
she had never seen, owing to the failure of her marriage with him.
And who was it who had been the direct cause of her failing to join
Scipio in Syracuse but Maharbal himself, who had detached five
warships from the fleet, and captured her and killed her friends. Was
not poor Cleandra’s death directly attributable to Maharbal? and who,
in all her life, had been such a friend to her as Cleandra? And was
not Æmilius her friend? He had saved her from the court of Philip,
and yet Maharbal or his men--it was the same thing--had killed him.
“What,” thought Elissa, “has Maharbal ever given to me like the
devotion of a Cleandra, the love of a Scipio--ay, or even the courtesy
of a Lælius or an Æmilius?” Was it sufficient for Maharbal to leave
her alone for year after year, when he might have visited her instead
of her uncle Mago? Was it enough for him, while taking his fill of the
life he delighted in--a life of blood and military glory--to continue
to love her at a distance, and to expect her to fall at his feet at
his bidding after all, just because fate or chance placed her in his
way? “No,” cried Elissa to herself; “a thousand times no!” and she
thought of the old days, when she had wept her eyes out for Maharbal,
while he was with Melania at the court of King Andobales, and stamped
with her feet upon the ground with rage to think that she ever had
been such a fool.
But now she was so utterly miserable, so distressed at Cleandra’s
death, so disappointed at the terrible failure of her grand plans for
the happiness of the world in conjunction with Scipio, that really
this matter of Maharbal scarcely interested her. She had lived too
much, seen too much, suffered too much! So she told him plainly one
day that he must be content with the past. It might now indeed seem to
both of them almost as a dream. Well, so much the better! A dream it
must remain, for anything now more approaching a reality was utterly
impossible. And with that she left him.
CHAPTER V.
HIS LEGAL WIFE.
Meanwhile the Carthaginian embassy to Rome to sue for terms of peace
had not been a success. It was owing to the atrocious behaviour of the
Carthaginian party themselves, who had endeavoured to cast the whole
blame of the war from start to finish upon Hannibal, and Hannibal
alone, that the negotiations broke down.
For the Roman Senate were not children, and there were so many issues
at stake in which it could be clearly proved that the Carthaginians,
entirely apart from Hannibal, had held the leading hand, that the
Romans were disgusted at their excuses.
For the Senate well knew that, while the people in Carthage had been
glad enough to vaunt Hannibal’s victories, they had, from jealousy,
never supported him properly, or Rome might now have been a mere
province of Carthage. They also divined that, defeated in their own
country, the Carthaginians were treacherously inclined to give to Rome
as a scapegoat the glorious hero who, alone, unaided, and deserted by
his country, had won victory upon victory throughout three-quarters of
the then known world.
Therefore the Roman Senate refused the terms of peace, and ordained
that Scipio should go on with the war or get better terms.
Scipio was personally annoyed at the failure of the negotiations, for
he had ever the same object in view, the long-deferred hope of the
possession as his bride of the beloved Elissa. He had suffered much
since her recapture by her own countrymen off Locri, and, were it only
for revenge upon Maharbal, whose insulting message he had received, he
longed more than ever to marry her. But, all question of revenge
apart, since the letters that had passed between them, and when she
had so nearly reached his outstretched arms, he felt that he loved her
more than ever--more than it seemed possible for any man on earth to
love a woman.
Instead, therefore, of carrying on the war, Scipio for a while
continued the truce, pretending to play with the Carthaginian envoys
to deceive Rome, and with the Roman envoys to deceive Carthage.
For he argued: “Did I not see the wine-god Bacchus in a vision? and
did he not tell me that I shall be married to Elissa by a priest with
a long beard flowing to his knees? and has ever yet one of my visions
proved false?” For by this time he had himself really begun to believe
in these visions or dreams which had for so long been believed in by
others.
Scipio being thus inclined, peace might have been made, after all, but
for the treachery of the Carthaginians, who seized, during a time of
truce, upon some Roman transports full of provisions, which had been
driven ashore in a storm. After this no further ideas of peace were
possible, and Scipio recommenced the war with all the more fury
because he feared that he must for ever renounce his dearest hopes.
The cowardly Carthaginians, who had neglected him for so many years,
now wrote letters recalling Hannibal to the country which he had not
seen since he was a boy of nine, for they wanted him to come and
defend them. They also sent for his brother Mago, from Capua; but the
noble Mago, Maharbal’s friend, was wounded on his way down in a drawn
battle in the country of the Insubrian Gauls, and died at sea; never
living to greet either his brother or his friend Maharbal again, nor
indeed to see even his native soil once more.
Hannibal and his daughter, and Maharbal and all the troops, however,
obeyed the summons, thus voluntarily this wonderful general left the
country out of which the Romans would never have been able to drive
him.
“Oh! Elissa, Elissa!” cried the warrior, as for once, weak as a woman,
he fell upon his daughter’s breast in the temple of Juno Lacinia. “Oh,
my daughter, comfort me, comfort me! for truly the gods have laid a
heavy hand upon me, or why should I leave this fair country of Italy
without first taking Rome? See, on yonder brazen tablets, all the
exploits I have had carved in three languages for future generations
to read, yet one is not there inscribed. All mention that there is of
Rome is that I threw my javeline over the wall. Oh! my countrymen, my
countrymen! if ye had but supported me it would not now be on
Carthaginian soil that my services would be required. Alas! for Rome
untaken. Alas! alas! Comfort me, oh, my daughter!”
It was a terrible moment for Elissa, almost as terrible as for the
great warrior himself, for to both of them it was the moment when, no
matter what had been the untiring efforts of each in the country’s
cause--no matter what had been the successes, the end had come, and
that end, after long years of noble struggle, meant for both a
confession of utter failure--of bitter, terrible failure.
But let us draw a veil over that hour of bitter grief in the temple of
Juno Lacinia. Let us leave father and daughter alone in their
sorrow--alone in the darkening shades of night, with nought but the
dull red glow of the scarcely-burning sacrificial fire to cast a
lowering gleam of brightness through the thickening gloom around.
* * * * * * * *
A fortnight later Hannibal had landed with all his troops, and they
were comparatively few, at Adrumentum, on the eastern coast of what is
now known as Tunisia, and upon arriving there he determined to put
into force, while waiting to collect an army, a project that he had
had in his head for some time past. This was no less than the union by
marriage of Elissa with Maharbal. Two reasons had he for wishing to
bring this about without delay. One was that he considered that after
many years of long and faithful services, his noble lieutenant
deserved the only reward that he could give him; the other, that now
that both his brethren were dead, he wished to raise up posterity to
himself in his own direct line.
Of Maharbal’s views he had no doubt, but he was by no means so sure of
Elissa. Upon his questioning her he found her distinctly averse to the
marriage. She would give no reason save that she did not now wish to
marry Maharbal. He had not come to espouse her when he might have done
so years before, and now her heart was not what it was when a mere
girl. She did not wish to marry him. At length her father twitted her
with loving Scipio. She confessed plainly that she did love Scipio;
but said that she did not, now that marriage between them could be of
no use to their country, wish to marry him either. It was clearly
impossible. Here she gave Hannibal an opening.
“Marry for thy country’s sake, Elissa? Why, ’tis the very thing I
would have thee to do. By all the gods! Maharbal doth love thee truly,
and hath he not fought for thy country for all these years with the
sole hope of thee as his reward? And now that thou art here and art
unmarried, and far more beautiful even than thou wast as a young girl,
wilt thou deny him the reward which he hath well merited at his
country’s hands in the shape of Hannibal’s only daughter for his
bride?”
“My father,” replied Elissa, “since we have, by the ruling of the
great gods, come to live together again, ever have I been submissive
to thee. Yet wilt thou own that mine, as apart from thine own, hath
been an independent career, throughout which I have continually
striven to carry out the precepts which thou didst thyself instil into
me in early youth. Only once did I neglect to follow them, yet that
neglect didst thou thyself condone, while punishing me by depriving me
of this very Maharbal, who was then my lover.
“Since then, my father, have I learnt to look upon all as a matter of
policy. Policy it would indeed have been had I married Scipio, and,
would to all the gods of Carthage and of Rome combined, that, for the
sake alone of Carthage, I had been permitted to do so. But putting
this love of his for me apart, wherein lies the policy of my now
espousing Maharbal the Numidian? Noble he is, I vow, and much, ay,
very much in him do I admire, chiefly his great devotion to thyself,
which caused him to neglect me when I was younger and more
impressionable. But, father! wherein lies the policy?”
“The policy--’tis simple enough, child! ’tis because he is a Numidian!
Through him we may win back all the other Numidians, ay even
Massinissa and his crew, or certainly all the old followers of Syphax
may desert to us, and there are others. Notably, there is a Numidian
prince named Tychæus, who hath several thousand horsemen, who might
join us for the sake of Maharbal.”
Elissa pondered a moment, then answered:
“But will they not join thee without my marrying Maharbal? Is not he
sufficiently devoted to thee to ask their services on thy behalf
without claiming now from me the hand he did not care to seek years
ago when it was his without question? At least, so I gathered from
mine uncle Mago.”
Hannibal became impatient.
“Do as thou wilt, thou headstrong woman!” he cried. “Wouldst thou have
a man give me all and I give him nothing in return? Dost thou call
that either patriotism or devotion to thy father’s cause? And is it
not now thy father’s name and his alone that doth represent the
highest interests of thy country to all the rest of the world if not
to thee?” He turned angrily as if to leave her.
Elissa turned very pale, but gently laid a restraining hand upon her
father’s sleeve.
“Very well, my father, I agree, but upon the condition that our
marriage be kept quite secret.”
“Secret!” answered Hannibal testily; “wherefore secret?”
“Simply that Scipio may not know of it,” she answered sadly. “’Twould
but enrage him the more, and do no good. Thou mayest yet some day, oh
my father, have reason to desire the good offices of Scipio, and,” she
sighed deeply, “although, before the gods, I would not willingly
deceive him, through whom could those good offices be so easily
obtained as through me? Therefore, ’twould, methinks, be perchance
more politic to keep it secret should I marry Maharbal. Then will I
yield to thy wishes in this matter, and feel, moreover, that I am not,
in so yielding, doing unto my country any possible injury. The
country, thou knowest, oh my father, is above all. I have now no wish
for marriage; but if thou deem it for our country’s welfare, I obey.”
“Ay,” replied Hannibal, stooping down and kissing her, at the same
time stroking her hair caressingly, “thou hast said the truth, Elissa.
The country is to be considered before all, and secrecy is advisable.
It shall be kept a secret.”
On the following day Elissa became the wife of Maharbal. But none knew
that she was actually his legal wife save the priest who united them
in Hannibal’s presence alone. And Hannibal threatened to cut out his
tongue if ever he should breathe a word of the matter to a living
soul. So the priest’s silence was assured.
Thus did Maharbal obtain his heart’s desire, and thus did Elissa once
again do her duty to her father and her country. And having now
married Maharbal, she strove to make him happy.
When once more upon his native soil, Hannibal was not the man to let
the grass grow under his feet. He was not long in organising an army
from one source and another, and soon he had collected a large force
of infantry and a considerable number of elephants; he only wanted
cavalry to make up an army which, in Italy, would have been
irresistible.
CHAPTER VI.
A MOMENTOUS MEETING.
Although Maharbal’s union with Elissa was kept absolutely secret,
yet, since he lived in the same building as that which his Chief had
selected as his head-quarters, it was easy for him to be with her at
all times. Moreover, since he was Hannibal’s right-hand man, there
were none who dared to criticise the terms of intimacy upon which he
might be with Hannibal’s daughter. In years gone by, she had been
looked upon as being virtually his wife, and it had been well known in
those days that it was only the dislike on the part of Hannibal to his
officers being married just before going on a campaign that had
prevented the union being then acknowledged. Now there were none of
the superior officers still alive who had left Spain with Hannibal at
the beginning of the Italian war, and, of all others present, none
dared to cast an aspersion upon the daughter of their great Chief and
greatest and most daring General, especially as her unusual intimacy
with Maharbal apparently met with the Chief’s own approval.
Thus it came to pass that during the few months passed at Adrumentum,
Elissa, while still passing as an unmarried woman, was constantly in
her husband’s society, and that gradually his single-mindedness, his
frank boyishness of character, which years of campaigning and
bloodshed had been unable to spoil, won somewhat upon her once more.
It was by degrees certainly, but they won upon her all the same.
Maharbal was ever so diffident, so conscious of his own shortcomings,
so ready to make excuses for everything in Elissa’s own past life,
that it would have been wonderful indeed, if, after having once become
his actual wife, she had not considerably melted towards him.
He, poor fellow, recognised the barrier at first, and with reason put
it down to his own fault in that he had not come back to her when
Hannibal had given him, upon two occasions, the opportunity of doing
so. He was now inclined to blame himself for his behaviour upon those
occasions, and treated his wife, in consequence, with an amount of
delicacy and respect which could scarcely have been expected in a man
whose whole life had been passed in scenes of carnage and slaughter.
But although a soldier, and even at times a cruel soldier, his own
life had ever been absolutely pure. As Scipio had been in the Roman
army, so had Maharbal been in the Carthaginian army. In an era when
rapine was law, when lust in its most brutal forms was not merely
tolerated but approved, each had selected for himself a higher
standard than that of the age. The unfortunate thing was that they had
both placed their whole affections upon the same woman, that that
woman had loved each in turn, and that, strive how she might, she had
been unable to fulfil her duty, or what she considered her whole duty
to either of them. For what she gave to one she took from the other.
Poor Elissa! It were useless to say that she ought only to have loved
one of them. Now, living with Maharbal, and being a woman of great
acumen, she soon recognised his greatness, and her mistake in having
condemned him too readily. For it became patent to her that it was no
idea of his own self-aggrandisement, his own military glory, that had
kept him from her side, but solely love and devotion to her own
father. With an open simple nature like his, there was no concealment
possible from such a clever woman as herself. Therefore, she very soon
learned the secret of the terrible act of self-renunciation which the
young warrior must have put upon himself at the time that he allowed
her uncle Mago to return to Iberia and New Carthage in his place, when
he might have come back himself to find a loving bride. As all this
dawned upon her, Elissa respected Maharbal more and more. She even
loved him in a way, yet it was never in the old way of early girlhood.
For all that, from sheer gratitude, she tried to persuade herself, and
easily succeeded in persuading him, that the old passion had come back
again with all its old intensity. Thus was she more nearly happy than
she had been for years past, while she made Maharbal supremely so.
While Hannibal was collecting troops at his head-quarters at
Adrumentum, he had not forgotten his idea of recruiting as many
Numidian cavalry as possible. For this purpose he sent Maharbal with a
large escort, to visit various Numidian chieftains, and upon this
expedition, although having for appearance sake a separate guard and a
separate camp, Elissa accompanied him.
The Roman armies had not traversed the districts of Libya through
which the Carthaginians were travelling, and as, for the first time in
her life, Elissa rode through the green fertile hills and villages of
Northern Africa, the tears came into her eyes at the peaceful beauty
of the scene, and with grief at the idea that all might soon be laid
waste and destroyed by the hand of the invader.
They had, however, a prosperous journey through the highlands and
lowlands lying on the banks of the winding Bagradus, and were
hospitably received at the city of the Numidian Prince Tychæus. This
prince, a kinsman to Maharbal, was at first loth to join Hannibal for
fear of their mutual kinsman Massinissa; but Elissa’s beautiful eyes
being once turned upon the young Numidian, carried the day, for their
soul-stirring appeal went deep down into his heart far more than all
the arguments of Maharbal. The result was that upon their return to
the head-quarters camp at Adrumentum, Maharbal and Hannibal’s daughter
carried back with them in their train not only the Prince Tychæus
himself, but also two thousand of his Numidian cavalry, whereupon
Hannibal determined upon taking the field instantly, and seeking
Scipio without more delay.
After Hannibal had once taken the field, confidence was restored to an
enormous extent throughout Libya, while the inhabitants of Carthage,
from having fallen to a state of the utmost gloom and despondency,
became elated to the highest degree. The foolish Carthaginians, who
had, since the time of Hamilcar, deteriorated more and more under the
long-continued ascendancy of the party of Hanno, now gave way to the
greatest excesses, so certain were they that their delivery was at
hand. Hence, not only did the horrible sacrifices to Moloch continue,
or rather, re-commence in full swing, but the worship of Tanais, the
Carthaginian Venus, was celebrated with an amount of debauchery that
had never been known before. Instead of devoting all their energies to
assisting the lion of Iberia and Italy, the inhabitants of Carthage,
under the pretence of thanking the gods for the mercies vouchsafed to
them in sending Hannibal to the rescue, vowed their slaves to Moloch,
and their daughters to Tanais. As regards the actual war, they had
sent to Hannibal a contingent of untrained men and of untrained
elephants, that was enough. Hannibal was expected to do all the rest.
And although in his heart he despised--ay, utterly despised this
people of Carthage--he determined to do the best he could with the
materials at his command. But neither in quantity nor in quality were
his new Carthaginian recruits what he would have wished, deteriorated
as they were by all the vices of the city of modern Carthage. He,
however, received valuable assistance at this period from Philip of
Macedon, who sent a considerable reinforcement of good troops.
Hannibal now marched across Libya from east to west, and had various
small successes over occasional detachments of Roman soldiers whom he
met with on his way. At length he found himself face to face with the
whole of Scipio’s army near a little town called Zama.
Elissa had accompanied her father upon the line of march, and occupied
a tent adjacent to his own. Once they had taken the field, there was
no more intimacy between Maharbal and his wife than had she been the
unmarried woman she was supposed to be.
When the two armies were still lying inactive face to face off Zama,
the same idea of a personal parley occurred to both of the commanders;
but Scipio it was who first put the idea into words. He sent a herald
with great state to Hannibal’s camp with a letter.
In this letter he demanded a personal interview with Hannibal ere they
should decide the most momentous issue at stake in mortal combat. And
as he knew that Hannibal’s daughter spoke Greek, a language with which
he was well acquainted, he requested that she might be present at the
interview and serve, moreover, as interpreter between them.
Hannibal accepted the invitation, and on the following morning rode
out into the plain separating the two armies, with his staff officers
and his daughter Elissa. The latter was attired in the garments of a
young Carthaginian nobleman, for although she had discarded her arms
for ever, she had assumed manly raiment upon taking the field. She was
gorgeously clad in raiment of light blue and silver, which, closely
fitting her figure, showed off to the greatest advantage the charms of
her person. Upon her head she wore a little silver casque surmounted
with wings. As she rode up upon her black charger, which she bestrode
gallantly Numidian-wise, being seated upon a pale blue and silver
saddle-cloth, she looked, so thought Scipio, as she approached, like
some delicate youth of sixteen. Her colouring was perfect, for, owing
to the fresh air in which she daily lived, Elissa was at this time in
the very perfection of feminine health and beauty.
Scipio was waiting in a group of palm trees, to which, having left his
staff officers at a distance, Hannibal advanced with Elissa. Scipio
sent all his own attendants to the rear as he saw Hannibal and his
daughter approaching. He dismounted, and giving his horse to a
gorgeously-attired slave, sent the man with the charger back out of
earshot. Then saluting the great Carthaginian conqueror and his
daughter most courteously, the great Roman conqueror advanced, and
giving his hand to Elissa, assisted her to alight.
And what an appealing look was there in that noble face as it looked
upwards into the beautiful eyes above him!
As Elissa involuntarily returned the pressure of the hand that held
hers, she could feel the pulses beating rapidly in its veins, while
she felt her heart throbbing painfully. She turned pale as she met
that fervent glance.
“Elissa, I have ever loved thee.”
“Scipio, thou hast been ever in my prayers.”
Unheard by Hannibal, whom a slave was helping to dismount, these two
short sentences were hurriedly whispered between them out there in the
grove, in the middle of the plain, whereon only a few scattered date
palms intercepted the view from the two enormous camps of armed men on
the one side and the other. There was no time for more, but in that
one glance from the eagle eye of the Roman, in that one whispered
word, Elissa recognised how true and devoted he had been to her
through all these years. She realised something more, and realised it
with a terrible fear at her heart, namely, that she herself loved him
still.
Scipio had only just time to note the piteous look upon his beloved’s
face when the situation was interrupted by Hannibal. He, advancing,
and waiving the services of Elissa as interpreter, spoke in Latin, and
spoke somewhat jocularly to begin with, for he seemed quite in one of
his old merry moods.
“I salute thee, Scipio, and right pleased am I at last to behold the
gallant young cockerel who hath sworn to clip for him the wings of the
old cock of the farmyard. Give me thy hand, for whatever the upshot of
this interview betwixt us may be, ’twill be historical, and it shall
not be said that two such warriors as Scipio and Hannibal could meet
and not take each other by the hand.”
“I salute thee, and gladly take thy hand, oh Hannibal, and greatly
doth the young cockerel appreciate such condescension on the part of
the eagle.”
And Scipio putting forth his hand, the two warriors clasped each other
warmly with mutual respect.
“Now would I salute the lady Elissa,” quoth Scipio, looking at
Hannibal as for permission.
“Ay, salute her by all means--embrace her an thou wilt--there is no
harm in it this once, her father being present, for ’tis the only
chance that ever thou shalt have, my gallant young friend, to embrace
her whom thou didst so nearly succeed in making thy bride. It would,
indeed, have been strange had I now been speaking with mine own
son-in-law. Embrace her, I say, an she will permit it, and I, her
father, do thank thee for all the most noble courtesies that thou
didst show unto her whom the fortune of war had made thy prisoner, and
further, for rescuing her from that scoundrel Philip. I would that
thou wert a Carthaginian, Scipio, by all the gods I do.”
But Scipio was not listening to Hannibal. He had thrown his arm around
Elissa and was embracing her tenderly. She felt her knees trembling so
that she could not have stood had it not been for his support. And
once, once only, she returned his embrace ardently full on the lips.
She knew it was a want of faith to Maharbal, but it could not be so
very sinful, she thought, since her father, the sole witness of the
action, permitted it, nay, encouraged it. Moreover, she felt that she
owed Scipio something, ay, much indeed, and a kiss was little enough
to give him after all that he had done for her.
Now, however, she sought to extricate herself from his embrace, while
Hannibal looked on amused. Gently restraining her still, Scipio
addressed her father.
“My lord Hannibal, thou hast said but now that I might have been thy
son-in-law--give me but this dear lady in mine arms and we will make
peace, a peace upon far less onerous terms than those that have been
already proposed to the Carthaginian Senate.”
“Nay, nay!” answered Hannibal, frowning. “I cannot make peace unless I
fight thee first, or unless thou wilt own that thou darest not fight
me lest thou should be beaten. I cannot give thee my daughter unless
thou wilt agree to that, and to withdraw with all thy forces beyond
the sea at once. Then thou canst go and take her with thee if thou
wilt, but thou shalt not claim a single one of our ships, nor a single
talent of our silver, but go recognising thyself in an inferiority. If
thou dost love my daughter so greatly thou canst well do that,
Scipio.”
The young Roman’s face flushed angrily as his arm fell from Elissa’s
waist, although he still clasped her hand.
“And what of the satisfaction to be given for the transports, which
came ashore and were seized in time of truce? and what of the
treacherous attack made upon the Roman ambassadors returning
unsuspectingly from Carthage by sea to mine own camp near Utica? Is
there to be no return, no punishment for those two great crimes
against international law, against every law of honour? How couldst
thou expect me, Hannibal, to go back to the Roman Senate with terms
like these? They are impossible, and thou dost know it, and thou
thyself wouldst despise me did I accept them.”
“Ay,” replied Hannibal, smiling grimly, “they are, perhaps, almost
impossible, and I might possibly despise thee, yet that would not hurt
thee much; but they are the only terms upon which I will give thee my
daughter; it all depends upon how much thou dost desire her, young
man.”
“Then we must fight,” cried Scipio, “and I must resign Elissa!”
He looked imploringly and sadly at her as he dropped her hand and
faced her.
“Ay, we must fight, Scipio,” replied Hannibal, “although, since great
hath already been thy success in Spain, thou wouldst do better not to
fight. For thy fame is now assured--it will be no greater shouldst
thou win this battle; while shouldst thou be defeated all will be lost
to thee. Look at me, see what an example I am of the reverses of
fortune, and such reverses may be thine own to-morrow. Better,
therefore, for thee to hearken unto my words. Leave Carthaginian soil
and do not fight, and if thou leave at once thou canst take Elissa
with thee.”
“It cannot be,” said Scipio sadly; “so fare thee well, dear Elissa.”
He kissed her hand gently, while her eyes were suffused with tears.
Scipio continued: “Hannibal, I salute thee; to-morrow we will meet in
mortal combat upon this plain, for, far from my submitting, thou it is
who must submit to me unconditionally, or conquer me in the field.”
“Farewell, Scipio, farewell, for to-morrow be it then; but thou art a
headstrong young man, and mayst live to regret it. But I wish thee no
ill, thou art a great general for one so young.”
Turning, they left the palm grove upon opposite sides. Hannibal and
Elissa, having regained their horses, rode back in silence. For the
daughter had not at all been able to understand the father’s line of
conduct during the interview, and he did not vouchsafe any information
on the subject.
One point, however, she had grasped from his behaviour. It was that,
so long as any object affecting the honour or advantage of Carthage
was at stake, Hannibal had been perfectly ready to ride rough-shod
over not only his own old prejudices against all and everything Roman,
but also ready utterly to disregard Maharbal’s happiness and possibly
her own also. For that he had not during the late interview considered
in the least his life-long friend Maharbal, to whom he yet was
absolutely devoted, would have been patent to the simplest mind, among
which class that of Elissa could hardly be reckoned.
But Hannibal had only been acting up to his own old theory and
practice. The State before everything!
CHAPTER VII.
ZAMA.
The following morning the opposing armies were drawn up in battle
array as follows. Scipio placed in front the Hastati, with an interval
between their maniples. The Principes came next, but these, contrary
to the usual plan, were not placed so as to cover the intervals behind
the Hastati. On the contrary, Scipio placed the maniples of the
Principes directly behind the maniples of the spearmen in the front
line. In the rear of these two lines he placed the Triarii, still
leaving intervals. This he did to leave room for the enemy’s elephants
to pass between the various ranks. Caius Lælius, who was fighting on
land now, commanded the Roman cavalry on the left wing; but on the
right was the traitor Massinissa with all his Numidians. As Maharbal
viewed, before the beginning of the battle, this noble force of
Numidian cavalry massed on the Roman side, some four thousand men in
all, he groaned aloud, and cursed his cousin by all the gods of
Avernus. And this he did the more heartily, since he saw waving amid
their ranks various standards and emblems which he well remembered
seeing in his boyhood borne by the troops of his jovial uncle Syphax.
Hannibal arranged his men as follows. He covered the whole of his
front with no less than eighty elephants. Behind the elephants came
twelve thousand mercenaries of various tribes and nationalities--Celts
and Ligurians, Mauretani and Balearic Islanders. Behind these
mercenaries came the native Libyans and Carthaginians, while in rear
of all he placed the men upon whom he knew he could thoroughly rely.
These were the men whom he had brought with him from Italy, whom he
held in reserve more than an eighth of a mile in the rear. He placed
his Numidian allies under Tychæus upon his left wing, while the
Carthaginian cavalry were on the right. And now all was ready for the
fray.
Before the battle actually commenced each of the commanders exhorted
his men. Scipio bid them remember their former victories, to show
themselves men of mettle worthy of their reputation and their country,
and to understand that the effect of their victory would be not only
to make themselves masters of Libya but to give them and their country
the supremacy and undisputed lordship of the world. Thus he urged them
to charge the enemy with the steady resolve to conquer or to die, and
not to think of disgraceful flight under any circumstances.
Hannibal left the task of exhorting the men of the various forces to
their own officers, with the exception of his own army of Italy. To
them he addressed himself personally, and seeing what was the final
result of the battle his speech was pathetic in the extreme. For he
begged this army of Italy “to remember the many years during which
they had been brothers in arms, and the number of battles they had
fought with the Romans in which they had never been beaten or given
the Romans even a hope of victory. Above all, putting all the
countless minor successes aside, he charged them to remember the
battle of the Trebia against Scipio’s father, the battle in Etruria
against Flaminius, and the battle of Cannæ against Æmilius, with
none of which was the present struggle to be compared, whether in
regard to the number or the excellence of the enemy’s men. Let them
only raise their eyes and look at the enemy’s ranks, they would see
that they were not merely fewer than those whom they had fought
before, but as to their soldierly qualities there was no comparison.
The former Roman armies had come to the struggle untainted by memories
of past defeats, while these men were the sons or the remnants of
those who had been beaten in Italy and fled before him again and
again. They ought not, therefore, to undo the glory and fame of their
former achievements, but to struggle with a firm and brave resolve to
maintain their former reputation of invincibility.”
Meanwhile the Numidians upon each side had become already engaged, and
the plain was covered with the wheeling, charging, retiring and
advancing bodies of cavalry. For the usual Numidian tactics were being
pursued at this opening stage.
Now Hannibal gave the order for the elephants to charge. But many of
these ferocious brutes, being only imperfectly trained, becoming
frightened at the blaring of the Roman trumpets and horns, turned back
again upon their own side and charged in among the allied Numidian
cavalry fighting Massinissa upon the left wing, thus making it easy
for that Numidian prince to rout his kinsman Tychæus thoroughly. The
rest of the elephants did a considerable amount of damage to the
Romans, but, owing to the spaces that Scipio had left between the
maniples, down which many of them charged, not half the amount of
damage that they ought to have done. And then, their bodies being full
of darts, they ran away to the right, being driven off the field by
further darts from the Roman cavalry in the Roman left wing. And the
elephants being out of the way, Caius Lælius with all his horse
charged the Carthaginian cavalry opposed to them and put them to
flight, being joined by Massinissa with his Numidians in the pursuit,
which resulted in an utter rout.
And now the Roman infantry and the mercenaries of the Carthaginian
front line charged each other, the Romans clashing with their swords
upon their shields as they advanced, making a deafening and terrible
din.
But the Celts and Mauretani, the Balearic Islanders and the Ligurians
were not disconcerted either by these terrifying sounds or by the
awe-inspiring sight of the huge sombre plumes waving above the helmets
of the advancing Romans, making them appear about two feet greater in
stature than ordinary men.
Raising in turn their own fierce war-cries, each in his own tongue,
the mercenaries stood their ground nobly, and now every man, foot to
foot, body to body, and shield to shield, cut and thrust and cut and
thrust again, while as each man went down, his comrade stepped up from
the rear and filled his vacant place. For long the issue of the combat
between the front lines of the infantry remained uncertain, while men
went down in hundreds, never to rise again.
At length, owing to the steadiness of the rear ranks of the Romans,
who supported and encouraged their front rank men, while on the other
hand, the cowardly Carthaginian levies, in rear of the mercenaries,
began to waver and then to give way, the Romans began to gain ground.
Thus the mixed bodies of foreign troops, being forced back by the
weight of the Romans, and realising that they were being shamelessly
deserted by their own side, turned their backs upon the Romans in
front of them and joined them in falling upon the Carthaginian troops
in their rear who had failed to support them.
And as Hannibal, who, with Maharbal, was remaining in rear with the
reserves of the army of Italy, would by no means allow them to enter
his ranks, but had them thrust back with the spear’s point, these
flying Carthaginians were now compelled, whether they would or no, to
face to the front again and fight. This they did with the fury and
courage of despair when it was too late, and, furiously charging their
own mercenaries and the Romans combined, not only killed many of their
own men, but threw the ranks of the hitherto successful Hastati into
confusion; whereupon Scipio advanced his Principes of the second line
to drive them back. By this time, however, the greater part of the
mercenaries and the Carthaginians had either killed each other or been
killed by the Hastati, who were also many of them dead or dying. The
ground was now so utterly encumbered with wounded men and corpses, and
so slippery with blood, while arms and shields were tossed about
everywhere in helpless confusion, that it was impossible for Scipio to
advance in line formation his Principes, with their supports of the
third line--that is, the Triarii against the main body of the army of
Italy which was waiting under Hannibal for their advance.
Sounding a bugle, therefore, Scipio recalled such of the Hastati as
had pursued beyond the zone where the bodies were lying thickest, and
halted them there.
Then putting his Principes and Triarii into formations of files two or
four deep, he threaded his way with them through the area where the
dead and dying lay in heaps, and then re-formed all these fresh men
into line again upon the other side, one line being as before in rear
of the other.
He now caused such of the Hastati as had survived to fall in on the
flanks of the new troops. These arrangements being made, he continued
his advance.
Now Hannibal and Maharbal and all their veterans of many a hundred
combats were thirsting for the fray, which they had been compelled,
while inactive themselves, to witness for so long.
“Charge!” cried Hannibal.
“Charge!” re-echoed Maharbal.
“Charge!” repeated every one of the captains.
With a roar like the roar of the sea did the gallant remnant of the
army of Italy advance and throw themselves upon the Romans with a fury
that was terrible to behold. For the Romans, man for man, were no
better, nay, not so good as their antagonists, and soon they began to
fall back, slowly at first, then faster and faster, until at length
they were falling backwards over the heaps of corpses they had, while
advancing, just passed, the Carthaginians following, cutting down and
slaying them with triumphant shouts of victory. It seemed as if the
day were indeed lost for Scipio, and as if, despite the double
misfortune of the stampede of the elephants and the cowardice of the
Carthaginian levies, Hannibal would once more prove the victor, upon
Carthaginian even as on Roman soil.
But alas! what is this? From the left rear comes a thundering sound!
it is the Numidian Massinissa returning from the pursuit of Tychæus
and falling with his horsemen in a solid body upon the Carthaginian
left flank and rear. And alas! what again is this? From the right rear
also there comes a thundering sound as Caius Lælius, with his five
thousand Roman cavalry, returning from the pursuit of the Carthaginian
horse, falls upon the right flank and rear in turn.
Fight hard now and invoke the gods, ye soldiers of Hannibal! fight
hard and strike home, for never again shall ye fight under your
beloved leader!
Strike now, Maharbal! strike, Bostar! strike, Hanno! Hamilcar!
Adherbal! Strike, all ye captains, for the dying lion’s sake, and if
ye must die, see that ye die as becometh your leader’s reputation. A
life for a life! die but yield not!
And so for want of cavalry, hemmed in upon all sides, even as Hannibal
himself had hemmed the Romans in at Cannæ, did the army of Italy
fall. Seeing at last that all was lost, hopelessly, irretrievably
lost, Hannibal called together Maharbal and such of the other mounted
officers as still lived, and forming them up into a little group,
boldly charged, sword in hand, the surrounding cavalry on the right
flank.
And as many of these were Roman soldiers, who had seen Hannibal and
Maharbal at Cannæ and in many other encounters, they were filled with
alarm at the sight of these two well-known warriors falling upon them.
Therefore even in this, their very moment of victory, they fell back,
terror-stricken, before the defeated lion and his giant companion.
Thus they cut their way through, themselves unharmed, and riding off
the battle-field, continued to retreat at full gallop for several
miles before drawing rein, taking the route to Adrumentum, which had
been left garrisoned. Thus ended the battle of Zama, which decided the
fate of the world; and thus, for the first and the last time in his
life, was Hannibal, the great, the hitherto invincible Hannibal,
forced to fly before the face of an enemy.
CHAPTER VIII.
CONCLUSION.
Although Elissa had seen the disposition of the troops, and even
been present on the field of battle during the earliest stages of the
combat, she had been spared the bitter humiliation of being an actual
witness of her father’s defeat.
For, with a view to possibly making use of his daughter later on in
the case of certain eventualities, no sooner had Hannibal witnessed
the disastrous stampede of the elephants than, determined at all
events to secure her safety, he had started her off with a small
escort of cavalry, with definite instructions to make all speed to
Adrumentum, and to remain there until his own arrival, or until he
should send for her to join him in Carthage itself. Alas! his own
arrival in Adrumentum almost coincided with her own; for when it came
to be a case of retreating, Hannibal retreated with as much rapidity
as he had been previously wont to advance. For well he knew how
quickly ill news can spread, and the absolute necessity of thoroughly
securing the town before the garrison had been given sufficient time
to become lukewarm or weak-hearted in his cause.
Once he had arrived upon the scene, he did not give anyone in the
place time to think, so actively did he keep everyone employed working
at the fortifications, drilling, bringing in provisions, and preparing
for a siege, or generally occupied in some capacity or other which
gave no time for treason or negligence.
Scipio, hearing soon of the state of security in which Hannibal had
placed Adrumentum, and that, moreover, he had a large fleet lying off
the place, determined not to invest that town. He marched to Carthage
instead, and sending for the Suffetes and the Council of One Hundred,
dictated to them the terms upon which alone he would make peace. And
that they were now ten times more crushing than those which he had
offered to Hannibal before the battle of Zama is not a matter for
surprise. The astute Scipio, however, had only made such terribly
onerous terms in order to be able, if necessary, to modify them in
some degree. Therefore, when the Hundred humbly suggested that they
would wish to send for Hannibal, to consult with him before agreeing
to the terms of the treaty to be forwarded to Rome, the Roman General
agreed at once. He sent word that Hannibal should have a safe conduct
to Carthage, and requested the Senate to convey to him his wishes that
his daughter should accompany him. For now he was in a position to
demand compliance with his wishes, and he knew it.
Hannibal came from Adrumentum to Carthage by sea, accompanied by
several ships, and anchored in the gulf exactly opposite the house on
the Tœnia, whence he had started with his father Hamilcar, when only
a boy of nine, on his march along the Mediterranean to the Pillars of
Hercules.
The house on the Tœnia still belonged to him, and he disembarked
there with his daughter and Maharbal, bitterness in his soul. No
joyous demonstrations were there to welcome his return, although an
enormous throng of people crowded on the port to obtain a sight of
him. But he dismissed all those who would have speech of him, and
having entered the house, wherein every passage and doorway was well
known to him, he proceeded at once to the verandah on the first floor
and looked out.
There was everything just as it had been upon that memorable occasion
when his father Hamilcar had called him in upon the day of Matho’s
execution. Across the gulf the high hills of the Hermæan Promontory
were as dark and serrated as ever, the waters of the gulf itself were
just as green and flecked with white foam as they had been then. The
headland named Cape Carthage stood up as boldly as in days gone by,
while between him and it lay the whole expanse of the city of
Carthage, with its various temples to Moloch and Tanais in the
distance, and the Forum in the foreground, all absolutely unchanged.
Hannibal moved round the balcony to the back of the house. Ay! there
was the very fig-tree in the garden, under which he had been playing
at war with his brothers Hasdrubal and Mago when his father had called
him. Ah! the place might not have changed, but the people! What had
become of them? His little brother Hasdrubal to begin with. Had not
his head, all bloody and disfigured, after being cut off at the battle
of the Metaurus, been brutally cast over the palisades into his own
camp in Southern Italy, the first warning that he had of his brothers
having crossed the Alps. And little Mago, who had been with Hasdrubal
up in the fig-tree, where was he now? But recently dead, also killed
like Hasdrubal by the Romans. And he, Hannibal, what was his own
position? That of a disgraced man, disgraced by the Romans. Oh! how he
hated them, how well he remembered his vow of hatred made with his
father in the temple of Melcareth, of which he could espy the roof
yonder. He yearned that for every Roman he had slain he might have
slain ten, ay, might yet slay ten. And yet he was, he knew it, but
here himself in Carthage solely on the sufferance of the Roman General
Scipio, a young man who had vanquished him in war, and yet one who
loved his daughter. Vainly now did Hannibal wish that he had allowed
Elissa to pursue her voyage to Syracuse after the sea-fight at Locri,
and fulfil her engagement to espouse this Scipio. For he well saw how
much better it would have been for his country. He vainly wished also
that he had not been so severe with Scipio during the interview before
the battle of Zama. But how could he foretell that all the elephants
were going to stampede, or that the Carthaginian levies would prove
such arrant cowards? He cursed the Carthaginians in his heart even
more than the Romans when he thought of it all; but even while
despising his fellow-countrymen he did not despise his native country,
but loved it as much as ever.
Ay! as he looked out and saw the olive groves, the pomegranate trees,
the waving cornfields, the orange trees, the houses, the marble
temples, and the green dancing sea beyond, he felt, indeed, that he
loved his country as much as ever. But never could he have dreamed
that the hour of his return could have been so bitter as the hour of
anguish through which he was then passing. The mighty warrior thought
of his father and the past, the long past of years and years ago. Then
he laid his head upon the cold marble of the balustrade and wept--wept
bitter tears at that very spot where, when a little boy, his father
Hamilcar had bade him look well around and impress every land-mark,
every headland, on his memory. For to this spot had he not
returned--disgraced!
The following morning Hannibal was informed that the Roman General
Scipio wished to see him. He was obliged to repair to the palace in
the suburbs which Scipio occupied. The latter strove to receive him in
a manner not to hurt his dignity, for whatever he might feel for the
other Carthaginian generals, for Hannibal himself he had the most
unbounded respect. A long conference took place between Hannibal and
Scipio in private upon the terms of the treaty about to be concluded,
and Scipio made to him a suggestion, which was absolutely for his ears
alone. It was to the following effect: Although, so he said, it was
now utterly impossible for him, the Roman General, to modify the
general terms of the treaty, which were, he owned, excessively
severe--as, owing to the various acts of treachery on the part of the
Carthaginians, they deserved to be--on one very important clause
Scipio proposed a modification, but upon one condition only. This
clause was that the Roman General and the Roman army should remain in
Carthage at the expense of the Carthaginians until the whole of the
war indemnity should be paid. This implied a Roman occupation of the
country for at least twenty years to come, for so enormous was the
indemnity required it could not be paid sooner. And after twenty years
would they ever go? This clause Scipio expressed to Hannibal his
willingness to forego should the Carthaginian General give him even
now his daughter in marriage. Under such circumstances Scipio pledged
himself to evacuate Carthage with all his army, and sail for Sicily at
once, leaving the care of protecting Roman interests to his ally
Massinissa. And he vowed, by all the gods of Rome, that, should he
once set foot on Sicilian soil in company with Hannibal’s daughter,
not only would he never again himself set foot upon Carthaginian soil,
but that he would, to the utmost, discourage all future attempts upon
Carthage from any Roman sources.
Hannibal was too astute to allow to appear upon his countenance the
joy that he felt at this proposal. On the contrary, he made
difficulties, talked of Elissa having changed her mind since the
battle of Zama, and being, he now feared, thoroughly averse to Scipio.
So well did he manage matters that Scipio was quite pleased when,
almost as a favour, Hannibal consented in the end to consider the
matter, and promised to speak to Elissa about it. The next morning,
without acquainting Elissa or Maharbal with the subject of his
conversation with Scipio, he requested them both to accompany him to
the temple of the great god Melcareth, there to offer a solemn
sacrifice at the same altar at which he had participated in the
sacrifice with his father Hamilcar.
To the temple of Melcareth the three accordingly proceeded, and with
the most serious and awful rites, offered up, under the instructions
and guidance of an ancient priest, named Himilco, a most solemn and
terrible sacrifice. This old man, Himilco, was the same who had been a
priest in the temple in the time of Hannibal’s youth, and had known
him from a boy. He was now an old man eighty years of age, with a
white beard that reached down to his knees. His sanctity was most
renowned, and he was looked upon, with reason, as a prophet by all the
people. Under his guidance, for he had doubtless been somewhat, if
only partly, prompted in his part by Hannibal, Maharbal and Elissa
each made a most terrible vow, invoking, in case of failure to observe
it, the most awful penalties of all the gods, to sacrifice themselves
to the very last for the good of their country. The priest now caused
them to plunge their arms up to the elbow in the blood of the
sacrifice, and to vow solemnly to be guided, without question, by
Hannibal alone as to what was to be considered for the good of their
country; for the old man told them that the great god Melcareth was
even at that very moment there present, and pervading all the space in
the temple, and that the god had informed him that Hannibal alone was
at this moment the arbiter of his country’s fate. To disobey him would
therefore be death here and awful damnation hereafter.
While the old man was impressively dictating to the pair the terms of
the prescribed oath, the temple became dark. Sounds of rolling thunder
were heard, and sudden flames flew from the altar to the roof, to be
as suddenly extinguished. There could now be no doubt about the
presence of the mighty god among them. They all fell upon their faces
during his manifestation. At length Hannibal arose, and most solemnly
declared that he had had a vision. That vision was that he had seen
Elissa being joined in marriage to Scipio by the very high priest now
before them. He further said that it had been revealed to him by the
god in his vision that by that means alone could salvation come to
unhappy Carthage, for upon Scipio being united to Elissa in marriage
he would leave Carthage with all his army, and, he added, that it
would be sufficient for Scipio to be accompanied by Elissa as far as
the island of Sicily for the god to lay a spell upon him under which
he would never return to Libyan soil.
Vainly did Maharbal declare to the high priest and to Hannibal that
Elissa was his wife, and his alone.
“Where are thy witnesses?” replied the high priest. “’Tis true the
gods did allow a semblance of a marriage between ye, yet had not the
priest my license. And, in token of their displeasure, that priest is
already dead. A marriage without two witnesses is no legal marriage.
Thou sayest that Hannibal was thy witness. One witness is not enough,
oh Maharbal, in Carthage, whatever it may be in Spain or Italy.
Moreover, think of thine awful oath. And is not the great god
Melcareth speaking through Hannibal, whom ye have bound yourselves to
obey?”
Now it was Elissa’s turn to protest. With tears in her eyes she
declared that she was indeed Maharbal’s wife in very sooth, and could
not now possibly give herself to any other man with honour.
“Think of thine oath!” firmly replied the aged priest, “and fear the
anger of the immortal gods. ’Tis thou, Elissa, alone who canst save
thy country; ’tis thou alone who canst withdraw the invader hence.
Land with him but in Sicily and thou shalt be free; but dare thou but
to breathe to him one word, and such an awful curse shall fall, not
only upon thee and Maharbal, but upon thy country and thy father
Hannibal, through thee, that ye had all better have died a thousand
deaths on Zama’s battle-field. Thou must be wed to Scipio by me. That
is thy fate, for I, too, have had a vision. Ah! the terrible gods are
now angry. Submit thyself, proud woman, to their immortal will.”
At this moment the rolling thunder recommenced louder than before,
while the lightning flashes from the altar were more frequent and more
vivid. The scene in the temple was most awful and impressive, and all,
including the aged priest, fell upon their faces.
Elissa hesitated no longer.
“It is the will of the gods!” she muttered. “I must obey.”
“And thou?” inquired the high priest, turning to Maharbal.
“If it be the will of the gods,” he replied, “how can I resist? But I
would that the gods were men that I might fight this matter out with
them at the point of my sword. I could soon show them who was in the
right.”
But, upon Maharbal uttering this awful blasphemy, such a peal of
thunder shook the sacred fane that it seemed as though it would fall.
He now fell upon his face, repentant, for he realised that he was
failing in his vow, and it was indeed evident that the gods were
angry.
Before they all left the temple in fear and trembling, both Maharbal
and Elissa had humbly asked forgiveness of the gods for trying,
against their immortal wishes, to set up their own weak wills, and had
once more vowed, in order to appease them, to consider their country,
and their country only. To confirm this feeling in both their hearts,
the old priest informed them that it would be impious on their parts
to consider themselves any longer as husband and wife, and that they
must separate as such from that moment. For, whether she would or no,
the salvation of her country depended upon Elissa marrying Scipio.
Therefore, with sadness, these twain became once more strangers to
each other at the temple door.
Ten days afterwards the marriage of Elissa with Scipio was solemnised
in that very temple, when the Roman General declared that he
recognised in the high priest him whom he had seen in his vision. He
reminded his bride, with a happy smile, of what he had written to her;
but Elissa’s face wore in return no corresponding glow of happiness.
For so terribly complex were her feelings that she knew she had no
right to be happy, and, had it not been for her vow, would doubtless
have taken her own life. Hannibal had, however, reminded her that in
no wise could she benefit her country by so doing, and that her duty
to Carthage lay in taking Scipio and his army away from its shores and
completely beyond the seas. Once she had landed there her life was in
her own hands. She would meanwhile have the satisfaction of having
obeyed the mandates of the gods by sacrificing herself upon this
occasion.
There were indeed reasons why she should not have married Scipio, the
man whom she really loved, and yet her terrible oath prevented her
from revealing them to him. And Elissa felt it all the more deeply
because she was at heart the very soul of honour.
Upon the same afternoon that the marriage took place did Scipio and
all his army embark for Sicily. He himself and his pale but beautiful
bride were accommodated upon a most luxurious and stately hexireme.
Upon the voyage, which lasted two days, Scipio could not in any way
account for the apparent state of alternate gaiety and despondency of
his bride. She scarcely seemed to know what she was doing, and despite
all the caresses that he showered upon her, ever seemed to shudder and
draw back if inadvertently she had herself returned but one of them.
Upon landing at Libybæum in Sicily, no sooner had she disembarked,
than, falling on her knees before him, Elissa presented Scipio with
the hilt of a dagger, and, with many bitter tears, told him all,
absolutely without reserve, beseeching him to slay her on the spot.
At first his fury was so great that he was even about to do so, but
then he mastered himself completely, and his wonted nobility and
greatness of character did not desert him even in this awful crisis.
Scipio dashed the dagger to the ground violently.
“Nay!” he exclaimed, “I will not slay thee, Elissa, for thou art but
like myself, the victim of a cruel, a pitiless fate, and not thyself
to blame. May the gods protect thee in the future as in the past, and
guide thee to do that which is right. As for me, I do forgive thee,
for now I know the truth indeed, which is that thou dost love me most.
But to mine enemy Maharbal do I owe my life thrice over. To him,
therefore, will I return two lives--thine and that of his unborn
child. Farewell, Elissa!--farewell for ever, beloved!”
He kissed her tenderly on the forehead, and thus they parted, to meet
no more in this world, for Scipio sent her back to Carthage that same
day.
But Elissa never held up her head again; she pined, and grew paler day
by day. And when at the expiration of the half-year her son was born,
she died in giving him birth.
Thus perished in all the bloom of her beauty one who was ever a martyr
to duty and to her country’s cause, Elissa, Hannibal’s daughter.
THE END.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
The available copies of the source text have the following two defects
(illegible words).
(p. 376) “…that Elissa returned when she fir[***] rejoined her father
in his camp…” Use _first_.
(p. 377) “…that the siege was raised by Scipio [***]r a naval battle
in which the Romans were defeated.” Use _after_.
If you have access to an intact copy of the text and can confirm that
either of these changes are wrong please contact Project Gutenberg
support.
Minor spelling inconsistencies (_e.g._ earrings/ear-rings, hunting
party/hunting-party/, praetor/pretors/prætors, etc.) have been
preserved.
Alterations to the text:
Add title and author’s name to cover image.
Punctuation: sentences missing periods, quotation mark pairings, etc.
[Part I/Chapter III]
Change “they more than equalled in valour and _dermination_” to
_determination_.
“Greeks who had fled to Carthage from _Lilybœum_ to escape” to
_Lilybæum_.
“Could Lutatius Catulus have conquered _Lilybœum_ even had” to
_Lilybæum_.
“for their _long continued_ neglect of him and all the best” to
_long-continued_.
[Part II/Chapter II]
“remember, writing now, _Oh_! Elissa, as a father” to _oh_.
[Part II/Chapter V]
“He unmasked his battery without _futher_ delay” to _further_.
“my men will, storm the palace, and, unless they find me” delete
first comma.
[Part III/Chapter IV]
“the _heavy armed_ cavalry men being in the former, two men” to
_heavy-armed_.
[Part III/Chapter XII]
“shyly responding to the advances of the the Prince Massinissa” delete
one _the_.
[Part IV/Chapter VI]
“To him then was the Princess _Cœcilla_ offered as his wife” to
_Cœcilia_.
[Part V/Chapter I]
“after various sieges and conflicts _wiih_ each power in turn” to
_with_.
[Part V/Chapter II]
“magnificent camp, of which the the tents were made of purple” delete
one _the_.
[End of text]