The time seemed to Malchus to pass slowly indeed as he sat waiting the
commencement of the hunt. Deep roars, sounding like distant thunder,
were heard from time to time among the hills. Once or twice Malchus
fancied that he could hear other sounds such as would be made by a heavy
stone dislodged from its site leaping down the mountain side; but he was
not sure that this was not fancy, or that the sound might not be caused
by the roaring of lions far away among the hills.
His father had said that three hours would probably elapse before the
circuit would be completed. The distance was not great, but the troops
would have to make their way with the greatest care along the rocky
hills through brushwood and forest, and their advance would be all the
more slow that they had to take such pains to move noiselessly.
It was indeed more than three hours after the column had left the camp
when the sound of a distant horn was heard far up the hillside. Almost
instantaneously lights burst out in a great semicircle along the
hillside, and a faint confused sound, as of the shouting of a large body
of men, was heard on the still night air.
“That is very well done,” the general said in a tone of satisfaction. “I
had hardly expected it to be so well managed; for the operation on such
broken and difficult ground was not easy to carry out, even with the
moon to help them.”
“But see, father!” Malchus said, “there are many patches of darkness in
the line, and the lions might surely escape through these.”
“It would not be possible, Malchus, to place the parties at equal
distances over such broken ground. Nor are the lions likely to discover
the gaps in the line; they will be far too much terrified by the uproar
and sudden blaze of light to approach the troops. Hark, how they are
roaring! Truly it is a majestic and terrible sound, and I do not
wonder that the wild natives of these mountains regard the animals with
something of the respect which we pay to the gods. And now do you keep
a sharp eye along the foot of the hills. There is no saying how soon the
beasts may break cover.”
Slowly the semicircle of light was seen to contract as the soldiers
who formed it moved forward towards the foot of the hill; but although
Malchus kept his eyes strained upon the fringe of trees at its foot, he
could see no signs of movement.
The roaring still continued at intervals, and it was evident that the
beasts inclosed in the arc had descended to the lower slopes of the
hill.
“They may be upon us sooner than you expect, Malchus. Their colour well
nigh matches with that of the sand, and you may not see them until they
are close upon us.”
Presently a Numidian soldier standing behind Malchus touched him on the
shoulder and said in a whisper: “There they are!” pointing at the same
time across the plain.
Malchus could for a time see nothing; then he made out some indistinct
forms.
“There are six of them,” the general said, “and they are making for this
grove. Get your bows ready.”
Malchus could now clearly see the lions approaching. They were advancing
slowly, turning occasionally to look back as if reluctant to quit
the shelter of the hills; and Malchus could hardly resist a start of
uneasiness as one of them suddenly gave vent to a deep, threatening
roar, so menacing and terrible that the very leaves of the trees seemed
to quiver in the light of the moon under its vibrations. The lions
seemed of huge dimensions, especially the leader of the troop, who
stalked with a steady and majestic step at their head. When within fifty
yards of the grove the lions suddenly paused; their leader apparently
scented danger. Again the deep terrible roar rose in the air, answered
by an angry snarling noise on the part of the females.
“Aim at the leader,” the general whispered, “and have your brands in
readiness.”
Immediately behind the party a fire was burning; it had been suffered
to die down until it was a mere pile of glowing embers, and in this the
ends of a dozen stakes of dried wood were laid. The glow of the fire was
carefully hidden by a circle of sticks on which thick cloths had been
hung. The fire had been prepared in readiness in case the lions should
appear in numbers too formidable to be coped with. The leading lion was
within twenty-five paces of the spot where the party was standing when
Hamilcar gave the word, and a volley of arrows shot forth from their
hiding place.
The lion gave a roar of rage and pain, then, crouching for a moment,
with a few tremendous bounds he reached the edge of the wood. He could
see his enemies now, and with a fierce spring threw himself upon them.
But as soon as they had discharged their arrows the soldiers had caught
up their weapons and formed in a close body, and the lion was received
upon the points of a dozen spears.
There was a crashing of wood and a snarling growl as one of the soldiers
was struck dead with a blow of the mighty paw of the lion, who, ere he
could recover himself, received half a dozen javelins thrust deep into
his flanks, and fell dead.
The rest of the troop had followed him as he sprang forward, but some of
the soldiers, who had been told off for the purpose, seized the lighted
brands and threw them over the head of the leader among his followers.
As the glowing brands, after describing fiery circles in the air, fell
and scattered at their feet, the lions paused, and turning abruptly off
dashed away with long bounds across the front of the grove.
“Now, Malchus, to horse!” Hamilcar exclaimed. And the general and his
son, leaping upon their steeds, dashed out from the grove in pursuit of
the troop of lions. These, passing between the two clumps of trees, were
making for the plain beyond, when from behind the other grove a dark
band of horsemen rode out.
“Let them pass,” Hamilcar shouted; “do not head them back.”
The cavalry reined up until the troop of lions had passed. Hamilcar rode
up to the officer in command.
“Bring twenty of your men,” he said; “let the rest remain here. There
will doubtless be more of them yet.”
Then with the twenty horsemen he rode on in pursuit of the lions.
The chase was an exciting one. For a time the lions, with their long
bounds, kept ahead of the horsemen; but the latter, splendidly mounted
on their well bred steeds, soon began to gain. When they were within
a hundred yards of them one of the lions suddenly faced round. The
Numidians, well accustomed to the sport, needed no orders from their
chief. They scattered at once and broke off on each flank so as to
encircle the lion, who had taken his post on a hummock of sand and lay
couched on his haunches, with his tail lashing his sides angrily, like a
great cat about to make his spring.
The horsemen circled round him, dashing up to within five-and-twenty
yards, discharging their arrows, and then wheeling away. Each time the
lion was struck he uttered a sharp, angry growl, and made a spring in
the direction of the horsemen, and then fell back to his post.
One of the soldiers, thinking that the lion was now nearly crippled,
ventured to ride somewhat closer; he discharged his arrow, but before he
could wheel his horse the lion with two tremendous springs was upon him.
A single blow of his paw brought the horse to the ground. Then the lion
seized the soldier by the shoulder, shook him as a cat would a mouse,
and throwing him on the sand lay with his paw across him. At this moment
Malchus galloped past at full speed, his bow drawn to the arrow head and
fixed. The arrow struck the lion just behind its shoulder. The fierce
beast, which was in the act of rising, sank down quietly again; its
majestic head drooped between its forepaws on to the body of the Numidian,
and there it lay as if overtaken with a sudden sleep. Two more arrows
were fired into it, but there was no movement.
“The brave beast is dead,” Malchus said. “Here is the arrow with which I
slew it.”
“It was well done, Malchus, and the hide is yours. Let us set off after
the others.”
But the stand which the lion had made had been sufficiently long to
enable the rest of the troop to escape. Leaving two or three of their
comrades to remove the body of the soldier, the horsemen scattered in
various directions; but although they rode far over the plain, they
could see no signs of the troop they had pursued.
After a time they gave up the pursuit and rode back towards the camp.
When they reached it they found that another troop of lions, eight in
number, had approached the other grove, where two had been killed by the
party commanded by Adherbal and Giscon, and the rest of the cavalry were
still in pursuit of the others. They presently returned, bringing in
four more skins; so that eight lions in all had fallen in the night's
work.
“Well, Malchus, what do you think of lion hunting?” Adherbal asked as
they gathered again in the general's tent.
“They are terrible beasts,” Malchus said. “I had not thought that any
beast could make so tremendous a roar. Of course I have heard those
in captivity in Carthage, but it did not seem nearly so terrible as it
sounded here in the stillness of the desert.”
“I own that it made my blood run cold,” Adherbal said; “and their charge
is tremendous--they broke through the hedge of spears as if they had
been reeds. Three of our men were killed.”
“Yes,” Malchus agreed; “it seemed almost like a dream for a minute when
the great beast was among us. I felt very glad when he rolled over on to
his side.”
“It is a dangerous way of hunting,” Hamilcar said. “The chase on
horseback in the plains has its dangers, as we saw when that Numidian
was killed; but with proper care and skill it is a grand sport. But this
work on foot is too dangerous, and has cost the republic the loss of
five soldiers. Had I had nets with me I would have adopted the usual
plan of stretching one across the trees ten paces in front of us. This
breaks the lion's spring, he becomes entangled in its meshes, and can be
destroyed with but little danger. But no skill or address avails against
the charge of a wounded lion. But you are wounded, Giscon.”
“It is a mere nothing,” Giscon said.
“Nay,” Hamilcar replied, “it is an ugly scratch, Giscon; he has laid
open your arm from the shoulder to the elbow as if it were by the cut of
a knife.”
“It served me right for being too rash,” Giscon said. “I thought he
was nearly dead, and approached with my sword to give him a finishing
thrust. When he struck viciously at me I sprang back, but one of his
claws caught my shoulder. A few inches nearer and he would have stripped
the flesh from my arm, and perhaps broken the limb and shoulder bone.”
While he was speaking a slave was washing the wound, which he then
carefully bandaged up. A few minutes later the whole party lay down to
sleep. Malchus found it difficult to close his eyes. His pulse was still
throbbing with excitement, and his mind was busy with the brief but
stirring scene of the conflict.
Two or three hours passed, and he felt drowsiness creeping over him,
when he heard a sudden challenge, followed instantly by a loud and
piercing yell from hundreds of throats. He sprang in an instant to his
feet, as did the other occupants of the tent.
“To arms!” Hamilcar cried; “the enemy are upon us.”
Malchus caught up his shield and sword, threw his helmet on his head,
and rushed out of the tent with his father.
A tremendous din had succeeded the silence which had just before reigned
in the desert, and the yells of the barbarians rose high in the air,
answered by shouts and loud words of command from the soldiers in the
other grove. The elephants in their excitement were trumpeting loudly;
the horses stamped the ground; the draught cattle, terrified by the din,
strove to break away.
Large numbers of dark figures occupied the space some two hundred yards
wide between the groves. The general's guards, twenty in number,
had already sprung to their feet and stood to arms; the slaves and
attendants, panic stricken at the sudden attack, were giving vent to
screams and cries and were running about in confusion.
Hamilcar sternly ordered silence.
“Let each man,” he said, “take a weapon of some kind and stand steady.
We are cut off from the main body and shall have to fight for our lives.
Do you,” he said to the soldiers, “lay aside your spears and shoot
quickly among them. Fire fast. The great object is to conceal from them
the smallness of our number.”
Moving round the little grove Hamilcar posted the slaves at short
distances apart, to give warning should the enemy be attempting an
attack upon the other sides, and then returned to the side facing the
other grove, where the soldiers were keeping up a steady fire at the
enemy.
The latter were at present concentrating their attention upon their
attack upon the main body. Their scouts on the hills during the previous
day had no doubt ascertained that the Carthaginian force was encamped
here, and the occupants of the smaller grove would fall easy victims
after they had dealt with the main body. The fight was raging furiously
here. The natives had crept up close before they were discovered by the
sentries, and with a fierce rush they had fallen upon the troops before
they had time to seize their arms and gather in order.
The fight raged hand to hand, bows twanged and arrows flew, the light
javelins were hurled at close quarters with deadly effect, the shrill
cries of the Numidians mingled with the deeper shouts of the Iberians
and the yells of the natives. Hamilcar stood for a minute irresolute.
“They are neglecting us,” he said to Adherbal, “until they have finished
with the main body; we must go to their assistance. At present our men
are fighting without order or regularity. Unless their leaders are with
them they are lost, our presence will encourage and reanimate them.
Bring up the elephants quickly.”
The three elephants were at once brought forward, their drivers mounted
on their necks. Four soldiers with their bows and arrows took their
places on the back of each, the general with the rest of the fighting
men followed closely behind.
At the orders of their drivers the well trained animals broke into a
trot, and the party advanced from the shadow of the grove. The natives
scattered between it and the wood fired a volley of arrows and then
broke as the elephants charged down upon them. Trained to warfare
the elephants dashed among them, catching some up in their trunks and
dashing them lifeless to the ground, knocking down and trampling upon
others, scattering terror wherever they went, while the archers on their
backs kept up a deadly fire. As soon as the way was open Hamilcar led
the little party on foot at full speed towards the wood.
As he entered it he ordered his trumpeter to blow his horn. The well
known signal revived the hopes and courage of the sorely pressed troops,
who, surprised and discouraged, had been losing ground, great numbers
falling before the arrows and javelins of their swarming and active
foes. The natives, surprised at the trumpet sound in the rear, paused
a moment, and before they could turn round to face their unexpected
adversaries, Hamilcar with his little band burst his way through them
and joined his soldiers, who, gathered now in a close body in the centre
of the grove, received their leader with a shout of welcome.
Hamilcar's measures were promptly taken. He saw that if stationary his
band must melt away under the shower of missiles which was being poured
upon them. He gave the command and the troops rapidly formed into three
groups, the men of each corps gathering together. Adherbal, who was in
command of the Numidians, placed himself at their head, Giscon led the
Iberians, and Hamilcar headed the heavily armed troops, Malchus taking
his place at his side. Hamilcar had already given his orders to the
young officers. No response was to be made to the fire of the arrows and
javelins, but with spear, sword, and battleaxe the troops were to fall
upon the natives.
“Charge!” he shouted in a voice that was heard above the yells of the
barbarians. “Clear the wood of these lurking enemies, they dare not face
you. Sweep them before your path.”
With an answering shout the three bodies of men sprang forward, each in
a different direction. In vain the natives poured in volleys of arrows
and javelins; many fell, more were wounded, but all who could keep their
feet rushed forward with fury upon their assailants.
The charge was irresistible. The natives, fighting each for himself,
were unable for a moment to withstand the torrent, and, vastly superior
in numbers as they were, were driven headlong before it. When they
reached the edge of the wood each of the bodies broke into two. The
Numidians had directed their course towards their horses, which a party
of their own men were still defending desperately against the attacks of
a large body of natives. Through these they cut their way, and springing
upon their steeds dashed out into the plain, and sweeping round the
grove fell upon the natives there, and cut down the parties of men who
emerged in confusion from its shelter, unable to withstand the assaults
of Hamilcar and his infantry within.
The heavy infantry and the Iberians, when they gained the edge of the
wood, had swept to the right and left, cleared the edge of the grove of
their enemies until they met, then joining they again plunged into the
centre. Thus they traversed the wood in every direction until they had
completely cleared it of foes.
When the work was done the breathless and exhausted troops gathered
outside, in the light of the moon. More than half their number had
fallen; scarce one but was bleeding from wounds of arrow or javelin. The
plain beyond was thickly dotted to the foot of the hills with the bodies
of the natives who had been cut up by the Numidian horse or trampled
by the elephants, while the grove within was thickly strewn with their
bodies.
As there was no fear of a renewal of the attack, Hamilcar ordered the
men to fall out of ranks, and the hours until daybreak were passed in
extracting arrows and binding up wounds, and in assisting their comrades
who were found to be still living in the grove. Any natives still
breathing were instantly slain.
Hamilcar found that a party of the enemy had made their way into his own
camp. His tent had been hastily plundered, but most of the effects were
found in the morning scattered over the ground between the groves and
the hills, having been thrown away in their flight by the natives
when the horsemen burst out of the wood in pursuit. Of the slaves and
attendants several had been killed, but the greater portion had, when
Hamilcar left the grove with the troops, climbed up into trees, and
remained there concealed until the rout of the assailants.
It was found in the morning that over one hundred and fifty of the three
hundred Carthaginian troops had fallen, and that four hundred of the
natives had been slain either in the grove or in the pursuit by cavalry.
The following day two envoys arrived from the hostile tribe offering the
submission of their chief.
As pursuit in the hills would be useless Hamilcar offered them
comparatively easy terms. A heavy fine in horses and cattle was to be
paid to the republic, and ten of the principal members of the tribe were
to be delivered up as hostages for their future good behaviour. The
next day the hostages were brought into the camp with a portion of the
ransom; and Hamilcar, having thus accomplished the mission he had been
charged to perform, marched away with his troops to Carthage.
As they approached the coast the whole character of the scenery changed.
The desert had been left behind them, and they entered a fertile tract
of country which had been literally turned into a garden by the skill
and industry of the Carthaginian cultivators, at that time celebrated
throughout the world for their knowledge of the science of agriculture.
The rougher and more sterile ground was covered with groves of olive
trees, while rich vineyards and orchards of fig and other fruit trees
occupied the better soil. Wherever it was possible little canals leading
water from reservoirs and dammed up streams crossed the plains, and
every foot of the irrigated ground was covered with a luxuriant crop.
The villages were scattered thickly, and when the troops arrived within
a day's march of Carthage they came upon the country villas and mansions
of the wealthy inhabitants. These in the richness of their architecture,
the perfection and order of their gardens, and the beauty and taste of
the orchards and grounds which surrounded them, testified alike to the
wealth and taste of their occupants.
Fountains threw their water into the air, numerous waterfalls splashed
with a cool, soothing sound over artificial rocks. Statues wrought
by Greek sculptors stood on the terraces, shady walks offered a cool
retreat during the heat of the day, the vine, the pomegranate, and the
fig afforded refreshment to the palate as well as pleasure to the eye.
Palm trees with their graceful foliage waved gently in the passing
breezes. All the countries with which the Carthaginians traded had
supplied their contingent of vegetation to add to the beauty and
production of these gardens, which were the admiration and envy of the
civilized world.
Crossing the brow of a low range of hills the detachment came in sight
of Carthage. The general and his three companions, who were riding
in the rear of the column, drew in their horses and sat for a while
surveying the scene. It was one which, familiar as it might be, it was
impossible to survey without the deepest feeling of admiration.
In the centre stood the great rock of Byrsa, a flat topped eminence
with almost perpendicular sides rising about two hundred feet above the
surrounding plain. This plateau formed the seat of the ancient Carthage,
the Phoenician colony which Dido had founded. It was now the acropolis
of Carthage. Here stood the temples of the chief deities of the town;
here were immense magazines and storehouses capable of containing
provisions for a prolonged siege for the fifty thousand men whom the
place could contain. The craggy sides of the rock were visible but in
few places. Massive fortifications rising from its foot to its summit
defended every point where the rock was not absolutely perpendicular.
These walls were of enormous thickness, and in casemates or recesses in
their thickness were the stables for the elephants, horses, and cattle
of the garrison.
Round the upper edge of the rock extended another massive wall, above
which in picturesque outline rose the temple and other public edifices.
At the foot of this natural citadel stretched the lower town, with its
crowded population, its dense mass of houses, its temples and forum.
The style of architecture was peculiar to the city. The Carthaginians
abhorred straight lines, and all their buildings presented curves. The
rooms were for the most part circular, semicircular, or oval, and all
exterior as well as interior angles were rounded off. The material used
in their construction was an artificial stone composed of pieces of
rock cemented together with fine sand and lime, and as hard as natural
conglomerate. The houses were surmounted by domes or cupolas. Their
towers were always round, and throughout the city scarce an angle
offended the eye of the populace.
Extending into the bay lay the isthmus, known as the Tana, some three
miles in length, communicating with the mainland by a tongue of land a
hundred yards wide.
This was the maritime quarter of Carthage; here were the extensive docks
in which the vessels which bore the commerce of the city to and from the
uttermost parts of the known world loaded and unloaded. Here were the
state dockyards where the great ships of war, which had so long made
Carthage the mistress of the sea, were constructed and fitted out. The
whole line of the coast was deeply indented with bays, where rode at
anchor the ships of the mercantile navy. Broad inland lakes dotted
the plain; while to the north of Byrsa, stretching down to the sea and
extending as far as Cape Quamart, lay Megara, the aristocratic suburb of
Carthage.
Here, standing in gardens and parks, were the mansions of the wealthy
merchants and traders, the suburb presenting to the eye a mass of green
foliage dotted thickly with white houses. Megara was divided from the
lower town by a strong and lofty wall, but lay within the outer wall
which inclosed Byrsa and the whole of Carthage and stretched from sea to
sea.
The circumference of the inclosed space was fully twenty miles; the
population contained within it amounted to over eight hundred
thousand. On the north side near the sea, within the line of the outer
fortifications, rose a low hill, and here on the face which sloped
gently down to the sea was the great necropolis--the cemetery of
Carthage, shaded by broad spreading trees, dotted with the gorgeous
mausoleums of the wealthy and the innumerable tombs of the poorer
families, and undermined by thousands of great sepulchral chambers,
which still remain to testify to the vastness of the necropolis of
Carthage, and to the pains which her people bestowed upon the burying
places of their dead.
Beyond all, from the point at which the travellers viewed it, stretched
the deep blue background of the Mediterranean, its line broken only in
the foreground by the lofty citadel of Byrsa, and far out at sea by the
faint outline of the Isle of Zinbre.
For some minutes the party sat immovable on their horses, then Hamilcar
broke the silence:
“'Tis a glorious view,” he said; “the world does not contain a site
better fitted for the seat of a mighty city. Nature seems to have marked
it out. With the great rock fortress, the splendid bays and harbours,
the facilities for commerce, the fertile country stretching away on
either hand; give her but a government strong, capable, and honest, a
people patriotic, brave, and devoted, and Carthage would long remain the
mistress of the world.”
“Surely she may yet remain so,” Adherbal exclaimed.
“I fear not,” Hamilcar said gravely, shaking his head. “It seems to be
the fate of all nations, that as they grow in wealth so they lose their
manly virtues. With wealth comes corruption, indolence, a reluctance
to make sacrifices, and a weakening of the feeling of patriotism. Power
falls into the hands of the ignorant many. Instead of the destinies of
the country being swayed by the wisest and best, a fickle multitude,
swayed by interested demagogues, assumes the direction of affairs, and
the result is inevitable--wasted powers, gross mismanagement, final
ruin.”
So saying Hamilcar set his horse in motion and, followed silently by
his companions, rode with a gloomy countenance after his little columns
towards the capital.