The army was now moving through the passes of the Pyrenees. The labour
was great; no army had ever before crossed this mountain barrier; roads
had to be made, streams bridged, and rocks blasted away, to allow the
passage of the elephants and baggage wagons. Opinions have differed as
to the explosives used by the Carthaginian miners, but it is certain
that they possessed means of blasting rocks. The engineers of Hannibal's
force possessed an amount of knowledge and science vastly in excess of
that attained by the Romans at that time, and during the campaign the
latter frequently endeavoured, and sometimes with success, by promises
of high rewards, to induce Hannibal's engineers to desert and take
service with them. A people well acquainted with the uses of sulphur
and niter, skilled in the Oriental science of chemistry, capable of
manufacturing Greek fire--a compound which would burn under water--may
well have been acquainted with some mixture resembling gunpowder.
The art of making this explosive was certainly known to the Chinese in
very remote ages, and the Phoenicians, whose galleys traversed the most
distant seas to the east, may have acquired their knowledge from that
people.
The wild tribes of the mountains harassed the army during this difficult
march, and constant skirmishes went on between them and Hannibal's light
armed troops. However, at last all difficulties were overcome, and the
army descended the slopes into the plains of Southern Gaul.
Already Hannibal's agents had negotiated for an unopposed passage
through this country; but the Gauls, alarmed at the appearance of
the army, and at the news which had reached them of the conquest of
Catalonia, assembled in arms. Hannibal's tact and a lavish distribution
of presents dissipated the alarm of the Gauls, and their chiefs visited
Hannibal's camp at Elne, and a treaty was entered into for the passage
of the army.
A singular article of this treaty, and one which shows the esteem in
which the Gauls held their women, was that all complaints on the part
of the natives against Carthaginian troops should be carried to Hannibal
himself or the general representing him, and that all complaints of the
Carthaginians against the natives should be decided without appeal by a
council composed of Gaulish women. This condition caused much amusement
to the Carthaginians, who, however, had no cause to regret its
acceptance, for the decisions of this singular tribunal were marked by
the greatest fairness and impartiality. The greater part of the tribes
through whose country the army marched towards the Rhone observed the
terms of the treaty with good faith; some proved troublesome, but were
wholly unable to stand against the Carthaginian arms.
The exact route traversed by the army has been a subject of long and
bitter controversy; but, as no events of very great importance occurred
on the way, the precise line followed in crossing Gaul is a matter of
but slight interest. Suffice that, after marching from the Pyrenees at
a high rate of speed, the army reached the Rhone at the point where
Roquemaure now stands, a short distance above Avignon.
This point had been chosen by Hannibal because it was one of the few
spots at which the Rhone runs in a single stream, its course being for
the most part greatly broken up by islands. Roquemaure lies sixty-five
miles from the sea, and it was necessary to cross the Rhone at some
distance from its mouth, for Rome was now thoroughly alarmed, and
Scipio, with a fleet and powerful army, was near Marseilles waiting to
engage Hannibal on the plains of Gaul.
During the last few days' march no inhabitants had been encountered.
The Arecomici, who inhabited this part of the country, had not been
represented at the meeting, and at the news of the approach of the
Carthaginians had deserted their country and fled across the Rhone,
where, joined by the tribes dwelling upon the further bank, they
prepared to offer a desperate opposition to the passage of the river.
The appearance of this mass of barbarians, armed with bows and arrows
and javelins, on the further side of the wide and rapid river which had
to be crossed, was not encouraging.
“It was bad enough crossing the Pyrenees,” Malchus said to Trebon,
“but that was nothing to this undertaking; it is one thing to climb a
precipice, however steep, to the assault of an enemy, another to swim
across at the head of the army under such a shower of missiles as we
shall meet with on the other side.”
Hannibal, however, had prepared to overcome the difficulty. Messengers
had been sent up and down the river to all the people living on the
right bank, offering to buy from them at good prices every barge and
boat in their possession, promising them freedom from all exactions
and hard treatment, and offering good pay to those who would render
assistance to the army in the passage. Hannibal's offers were accepted
without hesitation. That the army, which could, had it chosen, have
taken all their boats by force and impressed their labour, should offer
to pay liberally for both, filled them with admiration, and they were,
moreover, only too glad to aid this formidable army of strangers to pass
out of their country.
The dwellers upon the Rhone at this period carried on an extensive
commerce, not only with the tribes of the upper river, but with
Marseilles and the ports of Spain and Northern Italy, consequently a
large number of vessels and barges of considerable tonnage were at once
obtained.
To add to the means of transport the whole army were set to work, and,
assisted by the natives, the soldiers cut down trees, and, hollowing
them out roughly, formed canoes capable of carrying two or three men.
So industriously did the troops work that in two days enough canoes
were made to carry the army across the river; but there was still the
opposition of the natives to be overcome, and when the canoes were
finished Hannibal ordered Hanno, one of his best generals, to start with
a division at nightfall up the bank of the river.
Hanno marched five miles, when he found a spot where the river was
smooth and favourable for the passage. The troops set to at once to
cut trees; rafts were formed of these, and the troops passed over. The
Spanish corps, accustomed to the passage of rivers, simply stripped, and
putting their broad shields of hides beneath them, passed the river by
swimming. Once across Hanno gave his men twenty-four hours' rest, and
then, calculating that Hannibal's preparations would be complete, he
marched down the river until he reached a hill, whose summit was visible
from Hannibal's camp at daybreak. Upon this he lit a signal fire.
The moment the smoke was seen in the camp Hannibal gave orders for the
troops to embark. The light infantry took to their little canoes, the
cavalry embarked in the larger vessels, and, as these were insufficient
to carry all the horses, a great many of the animals were made to enter
the river attached by ropes to the vessels. The heavier craft started
highest up, in order that they might to some extent break the roughness
of the waves and facilitate the passage of the canoes.
The din was prodigious. Thousands of men tugged at the oars, the roughly
made canoes were dashed against each other and often upset, while from
the opposite bank rose loudly the defiant yells of the natives, prepared
to dispute to the last the landing of the flotilla. Suddenly these cries
assumed a different character. A mass of smoke was seen to rise from the
tents of the enemy's camp, and Hanno's division poured down upon their
rear. The Arecomici, taken wholly by surprise, were seized with a panic,
and fled hastily in all directions, leaving the bank clear for the
landing of Hannibal. The whole of the army were brought across at once
and encamped that night on the river.
In the morning Hannibal sent off five hundred Numidian horse to
reconnoitre the river below, and ascertain what Scipio's army, which was
known to have landed at its mouth, was doing. He then assembled his army
and introduced to them some chiefs of the tribes beyond the Alps, who
had a day or two before arrived in the camp with the agents he had
sent to their country. They harangued the soldiers, an interpreter
translating their speeches, and assured them of the welcome they
would meet in the rich and fertile country beyond the Alps, and of the
alacrity with which the people there would join them against the Romans.
Hannibal himself then addressed the soldiers, pointed out to them that
they had already accomplished by far the greatest part of their journey,
had overcome every obstacle, and that there now remained but a few
days' passage over the mountains, and that Italy, the goal of all their
endeavours, would then lie before them.
The soldiers replied with enthusiastic shouts, and Hannibal, after
offering up prayers to the gods on behalf of the army, dismissed the
soldiers, and told them to prepare to start on the following day. Soon
after the assembly had broken up the Numidian horse returned in great
confusion, closely pressed by the Roman cavalry, who had been sent by
Scipio to ascertain Hannibal's position and course. The hostile cavalry
had charged each other with fury. A hundred and forty of the Romans and
two hundred of the Numidians were slain.
Hannibal saw that there was no time to be lost. The next morning, at
daybreak, the whole of his cavalry were posted to the south to cover the
movements of the army and to check the Roman advance. The infantry were
then set in motion up the bank of the river and Hannibal, with a small
party, remained behind to watch the passage of the elephants, which had
not yet been brought across.
The elephants had not been trained to take to the water, and the
operation was an extremely difficult one. Very strong and massive rafts
were joined together until they extended two hundred feet into the
river, being kept in their place by cables fastened to trees on the bank
above them. At the end of this floating pier was placed another raft
of immense size, capable of carrying four elephants at a time. A thick
covering of earth was laid over the whole, and on this turf was placed.
The elephants were then led forward.
So solid was the construction that they advanced upon it without
hesitation. When four had taken their place on the great raft at the
end, the fastenings which secured it to the rest of the structure were
cut, and a large number of boats and barges filled with rowers began to
tow the raft across the river. The elephants were seized with terror at
finding themselves afloat, but seeing no way of escape remained trembling
in the centre of the raft until they reached the other side. When it was
safely across, the raft and towing boats returned, and the operation was
repeated until all the elephants were over.
Some of the animals, however, were so terrified that they flung
themselves from the rafts into the river and made their way to shore,
keeping their probosces above the surface of the water. The Indians who
directed them were, however, all swept away and drowned. As soon as the
elephants were all across Hannibal called in his cavalry, and with them
and the elephants followed the army.
The Romans did not arrive at the spot until three days after the
Carthaginians had left. Scipio was greatly astonished when he found that
Hannibal had marched north, as he believed that the Alps were impassable
for an army, and had reckoned that Hannibal would certainly march down
the river and follow the seashore. Finding that the Carthaginians had
left he marched his army down to his ships again, re-embarked them, and
sailed for Genoa, intending to oppose Hannibal as he issued from the
defiles of the Alps, in the event of his succeeding in making the
passage.
Four days' march up the Rhone brought Hannibal to the point where the
Isere runs into that river. He crossed it, and with his army entered the
region called by Polybius “The Island,” although the designation is an
incorrect one, for while the Rhone flows along one side of the triangle
and the Isere on the other, the base is formed not by a third river, but
by a portion of the Alpine chain.
Malchus and his band had been among the first to push off from the
shore when the army began to cross the Rhone. Malchus was in a roughly
constructed canoe, which was paddled by Nessus and another of his men.
Like most of the other canoes, their craft soon became waterlogged,
for the rapid and angry current of the river, broken and agitated by so
large a number of boats, splashed over the sides of the clumsy canoes,
which were but a few inches above the water. The buoyancy of the wood
was sufficient to float them even when full, but they paddled slowly and
heavily.
The confusion was prodigious. The greater part of the men, unaccustomed
to rowing, had little control over their boats. Collisions were
frequent, and numbers of the boats were upset and their occupants
drowned. The canoe which carried Malchus was making fair progress, but,
to his vexation, was no longer in the front line. He was urging the
paddlers to exert themselves to the utmost, when Nessus gave a sudden
cry.
A horse which had broken loose from its fastenings behind one of the
barges was swimming down, frightened and confused at the din. It was
within a few feet of them when Nessus perceived it, and in another
moment it struck the canoe broadside with its chest. The boat rolled
over at once, throwing its occupants into the water. Malchus grasped the
canoe as it upset, for he would instantly have sunk from the weight of
his armour. Nessus a moment later appeared by his side.
“I will go to the other side, my lord,” he said, “that will keep the
tree from turning over again.”
He dived under the canoe, and came up on the opposite side, and giving
Malchus his hand across it, there was no longer any fear of the log
rolling over. The other rower did not reappear above the surface.
Malchus shouted in vain to some of the passing boats to pick him up, but
all were so absorbed in their efforts to advance and their eagerness to
engage the enemy that none paid attention to Malchus or the others in
like plight. Besides, it seemed probable that all, if they stuck to
their canoes, would presently gain one bank or other of the river.
Malchus, too, had started rather low down, and he was therefore soon out
of the flotilla.
The boat was nearly in midstream when the accident happened.
“The first thing to do,” Malchus said when he saw that there was no
chance of their being picked up, “is to rid myself of my armour. I can
do nothing with it on, and if the tree turns over I shall go down like
a stone. First of all, Nessus, do you unloose your sword belt. I will
do the same. If we fasten them together they are long enough to go round
the canoe, and if we take off our helmets and pass the belts through the
chin chains they will, with our swords, hang safely.”
This was with some difficulty accomplished.
“Now,” Malchus continued, “let us make our way to the stern of the
canoe. I will place my hand on the tree there, and do you unfasten the
shoulder and waist straps of my breast and backpieces. I cannot do it
myself.”
This was also accomplished, and the two pieces of armour laid on the
tree. They were now free to look round. The rapid stream had already
taken them half a mile below the point where the army were crossing, and
they were now entering a spot where the river was broken up by islands,
and raced along its pent up channel with greater velocity than before,
its surface broken with short angry waves, which rendered it difficult
for them to retain their hold of the tree.
For a time they strove by swimming to give the canoe an impetus towards
one bank or the other; but their efforts were vain. Sometimes they
thought they were about to succeed, and then an eddy would take the boat
and carry it into the middle of the stream again.
“It is useless, Nessus,” Malchus said at last. “We are only wearing
ourselves out, and our efforts are of no avail whatever. We must be
content to drift down the river until our good luck throws us into some
eddy which may carry us near one bank or the other.”
It was a long time, indeed, before that stroke of fortune befell them,
and they were many miles down the river before the current took them
near the eastern bank at a point where a sharp curve of the river threw
the force of the current over in that direction; but although they were
carried to within a few yards of the shore, so numbed and exhausted
were they by their long immersion in the cold water that it was with
the greatest difficulty that they could give the canoe a sufficient
impulsion to carry it to the bank.
At last, however, their feet touched the bottom, and they struggled to
shore, carrying with them the arms and armour; then, letting the canoe
drift away again, they crawled up the bank, and threw themselves down,
utterly exhausted. It was some time before either of them spoke. Then
Malchus said:
“We had best strip off our clothes and wring them as well as we can;
after that they will soon dry on us. We have no means of drying them
here, so we must lie down among some bushes to shelter us from this
bitter wind which blows from the mountains.”
The clothes were wrung until the last drop was extracted from them and
then put on again. They were still damp and cold, but Malchus and his
companion had been accustomed to be drenched to the skin, and thought
nothing of this. They were still too exhausted, however, to walk
briskly, and therefore lay down among some thick bushes until they
should feel equal to setting out on the long tramp to rejoin their
companions. After lying for a couple of hours Malchus rose to his feet,
and issuing from the bushes looked round. He had resumed his armour
and sword. As he stepped out a sudden shout arose, and he saw within a
hundred yards of him a body of natives some hundred strong approaching.
They had already caught sight of him.
“Nessus,” he exclaimed, without looking round, “lie still. I am seen,
and shall be taken in a minute. It is hopeless for me to try to escape.
You will do me more good by remaining hid and trying to free me from
their hands afterwards.”
So saying, and without drawing his sword, Malchus quietly advanced
towards the natives, who were rushing down towards him with loud shouts.
Flight or resistance would be, as he had at once seen, hopeless, and it
was only by present submission he could hope to save his life.
The natives were a portion of the force which had opposed Hannibal's
landing, and had already killed several Carthaginians who had, like
Malchus, struggled to the bank after being upset in the passage. Seeing
that he attempted neither to fly nor to defend himself, they rushed upon
him tumultuously, stripped him of his arms and armour, and dragged him
before their leader. The latter briefly ordered him to be brought
along, and the party continued their hurried march, fearing that the
Carthaginian horse might at any moment pursue them. For the rest of the
afternoon they marched without a halt, but at nightfall stopped in a
wood.
No fires were lit, for they knew not how close the Carthaginians might
be behind them. Malchus was bound hand and foot and thrown down in their
midst. There was no sleep that night. Half the party remained on watch,
the others sat together round the spot where Malchus lay and
discussed the disastrous events of the day--the great flotilla of the
Carthaginians, the sudden attack in their rear, the destruction of their
camp, the capture of the whole of their goods, and the slaughter and
defeat which had befallen them.
As their dialect differed but little from that of the Gauls in the
Carthaginian service, Malchus was enabled to understand the greater part
of their conversation, and learned that the only reason why he was not
put to death at once was that they wished to keep him until beyond the
risk of pursuit of the Carthaginians, when he could be sacrificed to
their gods formally and with the usual ceremonies.
All the time that they were talking Malchus listened anxiously for any
sudden outbreak which would tell that Nessus had been discovered. That
the Numidian had followed on their traces and was somewhere in the
neighbourhood Malchus had no doubt, but rescue in his present position
was impossible, and he only hoped that his follower would find that this
was so in time and would wait for a more favourable opportunity. The
night passed off quietly, and in the morning the natives continued their
march. After proceeding for three or four hours a sudden exclamation
from one of them caused the others to turn, and in the distance a
black mass of horsemen was seen approaching. At a rapid run the natives
started off for the shelter of a wood half a mile distant. Malchus was
forced to accompany them. He felt sure that the horsemen were a party
of Hannibal's cavalry, and he wondered whether Nessus was near enough to
see them, for if so he doubted not that he would manage to join them and
lead them to his rescue.
Just before they reached the wood the natives suddenly stopped, for,
coming from the opposite direction was another body of cavalry. It
needed not the joyous shouts of the natives to tell Malchus that these
were Romans, for they were coming from the south and could only be a
party of Scipio's cavalry. The natives halted at the edge of the wood
to watch the result of the conflict, for the parties evidently saw each
other, and both continued to advance at full speed. The Roman trumpets
were sounding, while the wild yells which came up on the breeze told
Malchus that Hannibal's cavalry were a party of the Numidians.
The Romans were somewhat the most numerous; but, had the cavalry opposed
to them consisted of the Carthaginian horse, Malchus would have had
little doubt as to the result; he felt, however, by no means certain
that the light armed Numidians were a match for the Roman cavalry. The
party had stopped but a quarter of a mile from the spot where the rival
bands met, and the crash of bodies driven violently against each other
and the clash of steel on armour could be plainly heard.
For a few minutes it was a wild confused melee, neither party appearing
to have any advantage. Riderless steeds galloped off from the throng,
but neither party seemed to give way a foot. The whole mass seemed
interlaced in conflict. It was a moving struggling throng of bodies with
arms waving high and swords rising and falling. The Romans fought in
silence, but the wild yells of the Numidians rose shrill and continuous.
At last there was a movement, and Malchus gave a groan while the natives
around him shouted in triumph as the Numidians were seen to detach
themselves from the throng and to gallop off at full speed, hotly
followed by the Romans, both, however, in greatly diminished numbers,
for the ground on which the conflict had taken place was thickly strewn
with bodies; nearly half of those who had engaged in that short but
desperate strife were lying there.
No sooner had the pursuers and pursued disappeared in the distance than
the natives thronged down to the spot. Such of the Numidians as were
found to be alive were instantly slaughtered, and all were despoiled of
their clothes, arms, and ornaments. The Romans were left untouched, and
those among them who were found to be only wounded were assisted by
the natives, who unbuckled their armour, helped them into a sitting
position, bound up their wounds, and gave them water.
Highly satisfied with the booty they obtained, and having no longer any
fear of pursuit, the natives halted to await the return of the Romans.
Malchus learned from their conversation that they had some little doubt
whether the Romans would approve of their appropriating the spoils of
the dead Numidians, and it was finally decided to hand over Malchus,
whose rich armour proclaimed him to be a prisoner of importance, to the
Roman commander.
The main body of the natives, with all the spoil which had been
collected, moved away to the wood, while the chief, with four of his
companions and Malchus, remained with the wounded Romans. It was late in
the evening before the Romans returned, after having, as has been said,
followed the Numidians right up to Hannibal's camp. There was some
grumbling on the part of the Roman soldiers when they found that their
allies had forestalled them with the spoil; but the officer in command
was well pleased at finding that the wounded had been carefully attended
to, and bade the men be content that they had rendered good service
to the public, and that Scipio would be well satisfied with them. The
native chief now exhibited the helmet and armour of Malchus, who was led
forward by two of his men.
“Who are you?” the commander asked Malchus in Greek, a language which
was understood by the educated both of Rome and Carthage.
“I am Malchus, and command the scouts of Hannibal's army.”
“You are young for such a post,” the officer said; “but in Carthage
it is interest not valour which secures promotion. Doubtless you are
related to Hannibal.”
“I am his cousin,” Malchus said quietly.
“Ah!” the Roman said sarcastically, “that accounts for one who is a mere
lad being chosen for so important a post. However, I shall take you
to Scipio, who will doubtless have questions to ask of you concerning
Hannibal's army.”
Many of the riderless horses on the plain came in on hearing the sound
of the Roman trumpets and rejoined the troop. Malchus was placed on
one of these. Such of the wounded Romans as were able to ride mounted
others, and a small party being left behind to look after those unable
to move, the troops started on their way.
They were unable, however, to proceed far; the horses had been
travelling since morning and were now completely exhausted; therefore,
after proceeding a few miles the troop halted. Strong guards were
posted, and the men lay down by their horses, ready to mount at a
moment's notice, for it was possible that Hannibal might have sent a
large body of horsemen in pursuit. As on the night before, Malchus felt
that even if Nessus had so far followed him he could do nothing while so
strong a guard was kept up, and he therefore followed the example of the
Roman soldiers around him and was soon fast asleep.
At daybreak next morning the troops mounted and again proceeded to the
south. Late in the afternoon a cloud of dust was seen in the distance,
and the party presently rode into the midst of the Roman army, who had
made a day's march from their ships and were just halting for the night.
The commander of the cavalry at once hastened to Scipio's tent to inform
him of the surprising fact that Hannibal had already, in the face of
the opposition of the tribes, forced the passage of the Rhone, and that,
with the exception of the elephants, which had been seen still on the
opposite bank, all the army were across.
Scipio was greatly mortified at the intelligence, for he had deemed it
next to impossible that Hannibal could carry his army across so wide and
rapid a river in the face of opposition. He had little doubt now that
Hannibal's intention was to follow the Rhone down on its left bank to
its mouth, and he prepared at once for a battle. Hearing that a prisoner
of some importance had been captured, he ordered Malchus to be brought
before him. As the lad, escorted by a Roman soldier on each side, was
led in, Scipio, accustomed to estimate men, could not but admire the
calm and haughty self possession of his young prisoner. His eye fell
with approval upon his active sinewy figure, and the knotted muscles of
his arms and legs.
“You are Malchus, a relation of Hannibal, and the commander of the
scouts of his army, I hear,” Scipio began.
Malchus bowed his head in assent.
“What force has he with him, and what are his intentions?”
“I know nothing of his intentions,” Malchus replied quietly, “as to his
force, it were better that you inquired of your allies, who saw us pass
the river. One of them was brought hither with me, and can tell you what
he saw.”
“Know you not,” Scipio said, “that I can order you to instant execution
if you refuse to answer my questions?”
“Of that I am perfectly well aware,” Malchus replied; “but I
nevertheless refuse absolutely to answer any questions.”
“I will give you until tomorrow morning to think the matter over, and if
by that time you have not made up your mind to give me the information I
require, you die.”
So saying he waved his hand to the soldiers, who at once removed Malchus
from his presence. He was taken to a small tent a short distance away,
food was given to him, and at nightfall chains were attached to his
ankles, and from these to the legs of two Roman soldiers appointed to
guard him during the night, while a sentry was placed at the entrance.
The chains were strong, and fitted so tightly round the ankles that
escape was altogether impossible. Even had he possessed arms and could
noiselessly have slain the two soldiers, he would be no nearer getting
away, for the chains were fastened as securely round their limbs as
round his own. Malchus, therefore, at once abandoned any idea of escape,
and lying quietly down meditated on his fate in the morning.