Chapter IV: First Blood

There had been plenty of stiff fighting before Hannibal succeeded, with his army of seventy thousand of all arms, in getting across the Pyrenees into the country of Gallia, for the Celts held strong positions in which to resist the invaders. But he crossed the mountains at last, and, having left his brother, Hasdrubal, with fifteen thousand Libyans, to garrison Spain, and sent an equal number of Iberians over into Libya, the Carthaginian Commander had pursued his advance without further resistance until he reached the banks of the Rhone, about three days’ march north of Massilia, or Marseilles.

Here he proceeded to make a camp and prepare for crossing the wide and swift river Rhodanus. Boats and canoes were purchased in abundance; a great number of soldiers were employed in cutting down trees and making rafts for the transport of the elephants, and, with the sawing and hammering that went on, the whole camp soon resembled an enormous workshop. Meanwhile, the natives were collecting in large numbers on the other bank of the Rhone to dispute his passage.

Sitting round the camp fire one night, Hannibal held a conclave of his officers.

“We must make speedy haste, oh, mine officers,” he said, “to cross yon deep and mighty river despite the hordes of barbarians who guard its further bank, for to-day grave and unexpected tidings have come to hand. The Romans have landed at Massilia; ay, the Consul Paullus Cornelius Scipio himself, so say the Gauls, accompanied by his brother, Cnœus Cornelius Scipio, has suddenly landed and formed a camp at Massilia. It seemeth that he is proceeding with a fleet and large army to Iberia to meet me there, and hath disembarked for provisions; but, doubtless, he will ere this have learnt that he need not go so far as Spain to find Hannibal or Hannibal’s army. But ’tis not here in Cis-Alpine Gaul that I would meet him; nevertheless, we must, while pursuing our previous plans for forcing the river crossing, despatch at once a force to the southward to ascertain, if possible, his numbers and his present intentions. General Maharbal, thine shall be this duty. Warn, therefore, five hundred of thy Numidians after their supper to be ready to start with thee in the first hour of the morning watch. Take native guides with thee, and march with all due precaution towards Massilia, and strive to find out the numbers and dispositions of the Roman Consul’s troops.”

“It shall be done at once, my lord,” replied Maharbal, saluting, and departing to that part of the camp where his horsemen were encamped.

“To thee Hanno, son of Bomilcar,” continued the Commander, “is assigned another and most arduous duty, and one upon the skilful accomplishment of which depends the whole future of the campaign. For thou must, with five thousand Numidian and Iberian infantry, march in a couple of hours time to the northward. Take guides with thee, and, avoiding the bank of the river, strike it again at daylight. There procure boats or make rafts, or, by any means, make a crossing before the Gauls can assemble to dispute thy passage, which, if possible, must be made without their knowledge. Then, to-morrow night, descend the other bank, and, at daybreak, raise a thick smoke from the high hills behind the encampment of the Gauls now opposing us. When I see that smoke, I will commence to cross the river in face of the enemy, who, watching us, will, if the fates are propitious, not observe thee. Then, when they are opposing our landing, do thou fall suddenly upon their camp and themselves. Thus will they be caught between both armies at once, and, by Melcareth! ’twill be odds but that not many of them survive to tell the tale of their discomfiture.”

’Twas now General Hanno’s turn to salute and march out, to warn his officers and men for the important service which lay before them. To the rest of his officers, Hannibal now gave certain instructions for the morrow’s duties, and shortly afterwards all in the camp, except those on guard, or warned for the duties above-detailed, had retired to their tents for the night.

Long before daybreak, Maharbal and his men were on the march, and riding cautiously towards the south. Shortly after dawn he halted his men for a time in a wood for purposes of repose, while he himself, taking a fresh horse and accompanied by a few followers, rode well in advance without seeing any signs of an enemy. Returning, he sent forward his advance guard, then, followed by all his men, drawn up in a single line of horsemen, two deep at loose intervals, he himself advanced in succession. They traversed a plain, and the horsemen of the advanced guard disappeared over the crest of a sloping hill, to the summit of which Maharbal had himself recently ascended without perceiving any danger, when suddenly the men of the advanced party were seen galloping back in disorder, while behind and among them, pursuing and striving to cut them down, was seen a large and martial body of mounted men in bright, burnished armour. From the crests of their helmets, which glittered in the morning sun, there streamed long dyed plumes of crimson horsehair. A noble sight and awesome they were, as, with so little warning, the squadrons came thundering down the slope upon the Numidians.

“The Romans!” cried every man, astonished; “the Romans!” And for a moment they wavered, for it was the first time any there, including the commander, had met the dreaded and world-renowned foe in mortal combat.

But Maharbal took in the situation at a glance. He saw in a second that although the Romans had the advantage of the ground, charging, as they were, down hill, that they were numerically inferior to his own force.

“Be not alarmed, men,” he cried; “we are more than they; we shall defeat them. Prefect Chœras, take thou a hundred men well away to the right instantly, and fall upon their flank and rear. The remainder follow me. Charge!”

In a second the two forces met in all the shock of battle. And then for a while the contest was bloody and hand to hand, neither side gaining any advantage. But presently the Numidians, by separating, wheeling, and retiring in groups of twos and threes, then advancing again and flinging their darts, then once more retiring, commenced absolutely to get the better of the Roman cavalry, who, not understanding these tactics, kept in a solid formation. Then the wag and poet, Chœras, fell upon them with his hundred men from the rear, and broke them up, and they turned for flight. Chœras, as he led his men, with blood dripping from his sword, pursued, shouting out the while many a well-timed jest and gibe in the Latin tongue, which he knew well. But, alas! the Carthaginians’ triumph was short lived, for suddenly, from behind the hill up which the flying Romans were being pursued by the scattered groups of Numidians, there appeared a fresh body of mounted troops, led by a commander who was but a lad. There were a considerable force of Gallic allies from the tribes faithful to Rome inhabiting the district of Massilia. Right gallantly they now in turn charged down the hill, leaving openings between their squadrons for the flying Romans to pass through, then closing their ranks again. It was now, after a short but hopeless stand, the turn of the Numidians to fly, for they were overpowered entirely, and especially the body of horse with Chœras, which suffered severely. At length, despite the efforts of Maharbal, his men were all in full retreat, leaving many corpses behind them on the plain. As for Maharbal himself, he stood to the last. He had a fresh and magnificent horse, and knew that he could escape if he would. But he wished to die where he stood rather than turn back defeated to the camp and his commander.

Proudly, and all alone, sword in hand, he sat upon his charger awaiting the onslaught of the Gauls, resolving to kill as many as possible ere he was slain himself. But their youthful commander, evidently a young Roman officer, was mounted on a far fleeter horse than the rest of his troops, and galloping forward sought to engage Maharbal in single combat.

“Defend thyself, proud Carthaginian,” the young man cried aloud in Greek. “For I am Scipio’s son, and will bear back thy head to my father.” And he charged Maharbal.

“And I am Maharbal, the son of Manissa,” cried the other, in the same language, “but thou shalt not bear back my head this day.”

Wheeling his horse skilfully to one side, Maharbal easily avoided the young man’s blow, delivered as he passed, then, turning his horse, pursued the gallant young Roman. In a few strides he was alongside. Dropping his reins, which he could well ride without, he placed his mighty left arm around the waist of the Roman lad, and urging his own charger forward, bore him bodily from his saddle, a prisoner in his terrible grip. In his futile struggles, young Scipio dropped his sword, and thus found himself being carried away defenceless across the withers of Maharbal’s magnificent war horse.

“I could kill thee if I would, my fine young fellow,” said Maharbal, “but thou art too brave a cockerel. I will keep thee alive instead for a slave.”

A howl of rage arose from the pursuing Gauls, and from the now rallying Romans, but for stadia after stadia Maharbal still kept ahead, following his own flying troops, until, at length, he saw the Carthaginian camp in front, and but a short distance ahead. He saw, too, a body of cavalry forming up to come to his assistance without the entrenchments. Another minute and he would have been safe with his prisoner, when his gallant steed struck a piece of fallen timber, stumbled, and fell, throwing the two men far apart, Maharbal himself being stunned in the fall. He knew no more until he found himself, on returning consciousness, in Hannibal’s own tent, not much the worse for his fall, although very stiff from having been trampled on in the melée which had taken place over the prostrate bodies of himself and young Scipio, which melée had resulted in each side reclaiming its own champion.

Maharbal’s personal bravery in this sanguinary action--in which he had lost, in killed alone, two hundred men, and the Romans one hundred and forty--had saved him from the disgrace, which he would otherwise have incurred, owing to his repulse. Seeing, however, what had happened, despite the reverse, the young Numidian warrior only found that his reputation was considerably enhanced throughout the army by his brilliant feat in carrying off the son of the Roman Consul.

All the day following this brilliant action, Hannibal Monomachus, with all his pioneers, especially with the aid of a prefect of pioneers, named Hasdrubal, was busily employed in building large rafts upon which to transport the thirty-seven elephants present with the army across the river. As these huge beasts distinctly refused to allow their Indian drivers to make them swim, he accomplished his purpose in another manner. Making two large rafts, they were attached to the shore, and covered thickly with earth and brushwood, so as to look like land, and built up to a level with the bank. Then two other rafts were constructed on a similar plan, and fitted carefully, and fastened with ropes to those tied to the shore. These were placed further out in the stream, being held in position by ropes attached to wherries anchored up the stream. The joins between the two sets of rafts were not visible to the elephants, who, thinking they were still on land, allowed themselves to be driven on to the outer rafts, where they were tethered until the time for the crossing should come. And thus the day passed, and by the following dawn all was ready.

The first division of the army embarked in the wherries and canoes, the heavy-armed cavalry men being in the former, two men in the stern of each boat holding five horses apiece by the bridles, these horses swimming. The wherries were placed up the stream, so as to break the current for the canoes below. The infantry soldiers embarked in their canoes. Thus, all was in readiness, while Hannibal and his officers remained watching for the signal. Suddenly first a thin and then a dense column of smoke was seen rising through the trees in rear of the camp of the Gauls.

“Advance!” cried Hannibal, himself springing into a boat.

“Advance!” cried Mago, Chœras, Maharbal, and all the other officers.

Then, with a deafening cheer from the army in the boats, and deafening cheers also of encouragement from their comrades left upon the bank, the flotilla was set in motion. The Gauls, meanwhile, had assembled in their thousands upon the opposite shore, and, waving their spears, and shouting their hoarse war-cries, were gallantly awaiting their advancing foe.

Suddenly cries of alarm were heard from the Gallic ranks, as flames of fire were seen arising from the tents of their encampment, which they had left without a guard. Disconcerted, they turned their backs to the enemy on the river, to find themselves confronted by another and unexpected foe in the rear. General Hanno and all his men were upon them.

Rapidly the boats, amid renewed cheering, pushed to the shore; rapidly, too, were the first division landed and drawn up on the beach. Then ensued such a scene of carnage in the Gallic ranks as had never yet been heard of. In less than an hour Hannibal’s boast was fulfilled, and scarcely a man was left to tell the tale. Thus was accomplished the passage of the Rhone.