Chapter VII: Hannibal’s First Triumph

“Now, Maharbal,” quoth the chief, “I would talk to thee no longer as one general to another, but simply as man to man. What about my daughter Elissa? Hast thou forgotten her? Hath not perchance all this terrible fighting for the last six months knocked all the love nonsense with which thou wast imbued out of thy warlike head, or is there still left paramount therein the memory of that girl of mine? Now, wilt thou answer plainly, for I have something to propose to thee which may be of importance?”

Maharbal made no answer, but Hannibal rose, unlocked a small casket and drew out a scroll, which he perused while waiting for a reply.

“Well,” he remarked, seeing that no reply came, “I would know thy mind on this matter, my friend.”

“Hannibal,” said Maharbal, rising in turn, and confronting his Chief, “Hannibal,”--then he paused and threw down his sword with a somewhat angry and impatient movement--“by what right dost thou talk to me of Elissa? What is it to thee if I should think of her still or no? As a warrior and my Chief I may listen to thee, ay, both must and would listen to thee; but what have women to do with me now? I am here to fight for Carthage and mine honour, ay, and for thine own honour, too, Hannibal, but nothing more.”

“Honour is honour, but friendship is friendship. War is also war, and we are all for our country; but private interests, nevertheless, rule us all at times. Thou knowest this as well as I, therefore, as friend to friend, tell me now the truth, Maharbal.”

“Well, the truth is this, Hannibal. When I meet a foe and he confronts me,”--Maharbal excitedly arose and seized his sword and shook it savagely--“I say to myself, ‘This for Elissa.’ Then I strike home. When my foe is struck down and bleeding at my feet, and the point of my weapon is at his throat, again I sometimes say to myself, ‘I spare thee for the sake of Elissa,’ and thus it ofttimes haps that a human life is saved. When again I charge into the battle, the one sweet name Elissa is ever on my lips. When I was day after day in those terrible passes of the Alps, and the rocks and boulders falling all around me slew so many of my friends and fellow-warriors, but one thought arose to my brain, and it was this, I care not for death itself, but will Elissa regret me? And now, Hannibal, my friend and my Chief, thou hast thine answer; I need say no more.”

“Nay,” said Hannibal, “thou hast said enough; I understand thee--thou art constant. But will she be equally constant? It may be years ere thou see her again. But young is she, and springing from a very passionate stock; her mother was an Iberian woman. What wouldst thou do supposing that she proved inconstant unto thee and loved another?”

“Do?--why, fight for Carthage still. What else could I do? Ay, and scorn her, too, if inconstant; nought else could be done than that.”

“Well, listen, I have something to propose. Thou seest this scroll. ’Tis a letter to my daughter Elissa. To-morrow we may have a fight, not with these Gauls alone, who have already learned to fear me, but with Scipio himself, with Roman legions at his back.

“It may be that, owing to the somewhat demoralised condition of our army, Scipio should prove victorious; it may be otherwise; yet my belief in the gods is so great, that I think I shall overthrow him. Whatever may chance, I must send my messengers with tidings back into Iberia to say that we are now safely across the Alps; to inform first my daughter Elissa at New Carthage, and then to bear intelligence unto my brother Hasdrubal, in those northern parts beyond the Ebro, where, I have learned, that Cnœus Scipio hath proceeded to attack him. Now, Maharbal, I need a trusty messenger; wilt thou be the bearer of the message? I have in the camp a chieftain of the Insubrian Gauls, who hath promised me a small fleet of ships at Genua, by which thou couldst proceed to New Carthage, where Elissa will doubtless warmly welcome thee to her loving arms. Wilt thou go? that is if thou shouldst survive to-morrow’s fight. Think, my lad, after all this hardship, how sweet will be the delights of love. Moreover, now that thou hast, by thine incessant toil and valour, brought the cavalry, or rather a great part of it, over the mountains in safety, know this, I will no longer withstand thy wish. Thy nuptials with my daughter shall be recognised, and thou and Elissa shall be man and wife.”

Maharbal’s face flushed as he leaned forward on his seat and gazed at Hannibal with undisguised astonishment.

“My lord Hannibal, hast thou then forgotten the toast we drank to one another at Saguntum? ’Tis true I love Elissa more than all the world as a woman; but I love thee, mine own honour, and my country Carthage, more than any woman living, be she even thine own daughter and mine own beloved bride. Therefore must I decline to leave thy side, oh Hannibal, to seek repose in thy dearest and most beloved daughter’s arms. My duty is here, and here, with all deference unto thee, I stay. Through life and death I am thine, but to do thy bidding in our country’s cause. My personal longings and lovings are now things unknown. I fight for Hannibal and for Carthage; all else is forgotten, or, if not forgotten, must and shall be crushed from out my breast. And yet, the gods are my witness, I love Elissa far more than all.”

Maharbal rose, and sought to leave the tent; but as he rose, Hannibal detained him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I admire thee, Maharbal, far more than if thou hadst acceded to my request. In truth thou hast enacted a right noble part. But should we both live, I shall not forget it, and thou thyself wilt not regret it. Should we die, I feel convinced that all the gods who, in my vision, promised me a future reward, will recognise thy virtue, and bestow a far higher reward upon thee. Ay, Melcareth shall smile and shower his blessings upon thee. Tanais shall make thee happy with such a thrilling and heavenly love as never yet mortal hath known; while the great Moloch, god of war, shall surely exalt thee to high rank in his celestial armies. Thou hast, indeed, chosen the higher and the better path. I pray the great god Melcareth, that, in my prolonged absence from her side, he inspire Elissa’s heart also with devotion to her country, with constancy and virtue. But ’twill be merit great, indeed, to be worthy of a virtue so great as thine. And now, let us go forth, since I must seek some other messenger to bear her my scroll, and thou thyself canst, if thou wilt, despatch a letter by the same hand. But nothing can be done before we have first once met the Romans here on Italian soil.”

The rest of the day was spent in that camp by the Ticinus in preparations for the great cavalry reconnaissance, which Hannibal intended to conduct in person, on the morrow. Armour was furbished up, swords and darts were sharpened, bits and bridles were seen to. All the cavalrymen, even although the infantry suffered somewhat in consequence, were thoroughly well fed, and also supplied with a liberal allowance of wine. Olive oil was dealt out to them all, wherewith to anoint themselves and make their limbs supple, and a day’s rations, to be carried on the morrow, was served out to each man. Scouts from a reserve body of horse, that was not to be employed in any fighting on the morrow, were sent out to watch the enemy’s movements, with instructions to leave a series of detached posts at intervals, by whom, owing to there being thus relays of fresh horsemen ready, news could be swiftly conveyed to the Carthaginian Chief of Scipio’s slightest movements. All these details Hannibal, not content with trusting to subordinates, saw to personally, for as he was, saving only Maharbal, the strongest man in the army, so was he also the most indefatigable. Throughout the whole of that day, therefore, he scarcely rested, but visited every part of the camp and every troop in turn, seeing that his instructions were carried out absolutely to the letter, and speaking grand and noble words of encouragement wherever he passed.

When, therefore, after a substantial breakfast, the whole of the cavalry paraded on the following morn, it was no longer a starveling, dispirited body of men that fell beneath his gaze, but a gallant band of warriors bearing confidence in their glance, self-reliant, proud, and anxious for the fray. Well satisfied with the noble bearing of his followers, after having first ridden round the ranks and complimented his men upon their brave and soldierly appearance, Hannibal bade his trumpeter sound the advance, and himself led the way. As he put his horse in motion, the whole army burst spontaneously into a cheer--“Hannibal! Long live Hannibal.”

Clad in gorgeous but serviceable armour, with dancing plumes waving from the crest of his helmet, the gallant Carthaginian General was indeed, as he marched forth that morn to meet the Romans for the first time in his career, such a leader as the world had never seen.

As the cavalry, by troops and squadrons, filed off in succession after him, silence fell among their ranks. But the infantry soldiers and also the Gauls remaining behind in camp continued the shouts of enthusiasm. “Hannibal! Long live Hannibal!” For it was for him, the General alone, and his personal influence, more than for a Carthage which was to most of them but a name, that these troops, drawn from many mixed tribes and nations, were willing and ready to lay down their lives. And it was ever so; it was Hannibal’s army, not a Carthaginian army that so often defeated Rome.

Thus gallantly encouraged by the shouts of their comrades did the whole of the Carthaginian horse march off down the banks of the river Ticinus. For a considerable distance the ground was broken and rocky, and considerably wooded, and not at all suitable for the manœuvring of mounted troops. But, at length, after a march of some three hours’ duration, just at the very spot which suited his purpose, Hannibal was met by the first of his scouts coming in and informing him that Scipio had started with his forces, and was now crossing the river. They gave the further information that there was no occasion for hurry, as each relay of messengers had galloped back hard, and that the remainder of the vedettes, now retiring leisurely before the advancing foe, would give timely warning of their nearer approach.

The ground whereon the front of the column was standing when this news arrived was at the edge of an extensive copse of detached oak trees, beyond which was a large open plain of what had earlier in the year been cultivated ground. Drawing up all his forces just inside the edge, and in the shelter of the trees, in the order of battle which he intended to employ later on, the Chief now gave the order for the men to dismount to rest the animals, and to eat a portion of the rations that they had brought with them. He had a short time previously made each troop halt in turn at a convenient shallow place in the river Ticinus to give their horses a mouthful of water--therefore no possible precaution had been neglected to bring his forces fresh into battle. While halting in the shelter of the oak trees, several more groups of messengers came in from the front. From these Hannibal learned without a doubt that Scipio was advancing only with his cavalry and light-armed footmen, and that from all accounts the numbers of the former were, if anything, somewhat inferior to his own.

He was in high glee as he stood talking to a group of his officers, and rubbed his hands cheerfully.

“Melcareth hath surely delivered them unto us,” he said, “for this foolish Scipio hath, by leaving his heavy-armed infantry behind, played beautifully into my hands. And thou, my bloodthirsty Monomachus, shalt soon have thy fill of slaying.”

“I care nought so that I slay but Scipio himself! So that ere I perish myself, I dip my hand into the life-blood of the Roman Consul, I shall die happy.”

Hannibal laughed, then gave the order to mount, but for the troops still to remain within the fringe of the covert underneath the spreading oaks.

While waiting thus, there suddenly arose a fleeting squall of driving wind and rain, which tore the leaves with fury from the oaks, sending them whirling in all directions, while the acorns, which abounded, fell pattering and clattering in shoals upon the armour of the warriors. The men, who were superstitious, knew not how to interpret the augury; but their Chief was equal to the occasion.

“A glorious omen!” he proclaimed aloud, with a laugh. “Even as the falling of these acorns, so shall fall the hordes of the advancing enemy beneath the storm of our attack. See how the elephants are calmly picking them up, and devouring them! so shall we also devour the foe.”

The word was taken up and passed round, and now the men, reassured and in high good humour, caught the falling acorns and tossed them gleefully at one another. Meanwhile, as Hannibal had said, the huge elephants calmly waiting and swinging their fore-legs, picked up one by one with their trunks all the fallen acorns within reach and ate them with apparent relish. The sight of these huge painted and horrible beasts, thus picking up and eating the little acorns, was in itself so ludicrous that all those who could see the sight now roared with laughter like very children. For, as all know who have been present at a battle, during the time, be it short or long, that men are waiting anxiously for the signal that shall engage them in mortal conflict, the nerves are on edge. ’Tis then often the slightest and most trivial circumstance that will sway a whole host to tears or laughter, to reckless courage, or to shameful retreat. On this occasion the whole force was overcome with exuberance of spirits, and thus hearty and boyish laughter rippled along the ranks.

It was, in sooth, a strange sight to see these gigantic animals so peacefully enjoying themselves at such a moment with such trivial food. For to look at them they seemed more like monsters ready to devour men.

There were that day twenty-four of them present, twelve being placed at intervals on each flank. Every elephant had its head and trunk painted crimson with vermilion; the body was painted black, with white stripes on the ribs, and the legs white to the knee and red below. To each tusk, and all were tuskers, were fastened huge two-edged swords; round the upper part of each of the fore-legs was clasped a band set with terrible and glistening spikes; and, to crown all, each elephant had round its trunk, near the lower extremity, several heavy iron rings. With these they were trained to strike. An ordinary elephant is to those with weak nerves a sufficiently appalling sight. Judge, then, what would be the effect upon those, who had never seen the beasts before, of the appearance of these awful monsters. The elephants were that day in light marching order, and therefore they carried no castles. Instead, on the back of each was a light pad, on which sat, secured with ropes, and having also rope foot-rests, eight archers, four on each side, plentifully supplied with heavy arrows. Seated upon the neck of every beast was an Indian driver, completely covered with light armour of chain mail, and carrying, in addition to the goad with which he urged his beast, a quiver full of short and heavy darts to hurl at the foe at close quarters.

The order of battle was fully formed. The heavy Spanish cavalry were in the centre; then on each side were twelve elephants; beyond them again on each flank large bodies of the Numidian horse, Maharbal commanding the right wing, and Chœras the left of the Numidians.

Presently the last of the scouts came in, saying that the Romans were now close at hand, and almost instantly their light-armed javeline men and archers appeared, swarming on the plain. In rear of them, at a short distance, could be seen the allied Gallic and Roman cavalry advancing at a slow pace in a splendid line, with small intervals between the separate troops. Hannibal allowed the light-armed men to advance well out into the plain before he stirred from the shelter of the oak trees. Thus he was well able to take stock of the Roman numbers before engaging, while they could not possibly form any idea of the numbers that he had at his own command. Speedily sending an aide-de-camp to both Maharbal and Mago with orders to remain for a short time longer concealed in the forest, he now caused the “advance” and “the trot” to be sounded by his trumpeter. In a steady line, with himself and Monomachus at the head of the centre, the Iberian cavalry instantly emerged from their shelter, the huge elephants lumbering along with ungainly tread at an equal pace on each flank, and by command of their drivers, raising their trunks on high and loudly trumpeting as they advanced. The sudden appearance of this hitherto unseen army of cavalry, coupled with the awesome sight of these terrible and frightful creatures, at once struck terror into the heart of the light-armed Roman troops. Seeing that certain death awaited them if they remained, they instantly broke and fled, retreating through the intervals between the troops of cavalry, and re-forming into companies in rear. But Scipio himself, whose presence was denoted by a standard surmounted with the Roman eagle, was with the main body. He had previously exhorted them: saying that the Carthaginians were but curs with their tails between their legs, who had fled before his cavalry on the banks of the Rhone, and they believed him. Hence there was no flinching in the ranks.

Hannibal now ordered his trumpeter to sound “the gallop,” and in a second, with thundering footfall, the whole of his heavy cavalry, armed with both spears and swords, the latter being attached to the saddle, advanced with the speed of lightning.

Scipio also sounded “the charge,” but the retreat of his light-armed footmen had somewhat delayed him. Therefore, when the two forces met in shock of battle, the greater impetus being with the Carthaginians, the Romans were at first borne backwards, hundreds of men and horses being cast to the ground at the very first dreadful onslaught. It was a terrible and an awful sight, that fearful rush and the meeting between the two cavalry forces. And now it was every man for himself, and both sides were equally determined. The Romans, at first borne back, soon rallied; spears on both sides were cast away as the horses fell in hundreds, and, foot to foot and hand to hand, the whole plain was soon one seething and struggling mass of murdering humanity. Now, however, the elephants came in upon each flank of the Romans. Charging down, striking with their trunks, destroying with their horrible scythe-like swords, frequently kneeling upon and crushing their opponents, they carried all before them on the flanks. All the time, the archers on their backs discharged from close quarters the heavy-headed arrows from their bows. The effect of this charge on the flanks, however, was but to consolidate the Roman centre. Gallantly the Romans fought, never yielding a foot, and many were the Iberians who fell before their dreadful valour never to rise again. In the midst of all, mounted on a splendid bay charger, was Publius Scipio. Separated from him at but a short distance was Hannibal, above whom, borne by his ensign, waved the flag of Carthage, the white horse upon a purple ground. The two Generals could, for a while, plainly see each other, and, each grinding his teeth and shaking his fist with rage at the other, they tried to come to mortal combat. But it was in vain: the struggling, thrusting, killing throng of men, swaying first this way and then that, swept them apart, and in a short time the rush of battle had severed them completely. Each had now to defend himself, and they saw one another no more. At length the tide of battle seemed going to the Romans. The Carthaginians slowly but gradually began to give ground. A few of those in rear of the centre began to retire. The wounded were pouring back in streams; riderless horses, many of them with their entrails hanging out, were, while shrieking with agony as only a horse can, wildly careering about the plain.

And now came the opportunity for which the young warrior Maharbal had been waiting, and he took it. For fully an hour he had, from his shelter in the oak wood, been watching the ebb and flow of the battle, and terrible had been his anxiety and great his impatience. But he had in himself the makings of a great general, and he wisely refrained from interfering too soon. He sent a messenger to summon Chœras to him, and imparted certain instructions before sending him back to his own wing.

“Now, Chœras,” he said, “notice this and no jesting! Keep thou all thy men carefully concealed until thou shalt see me issue alone from the wood with this scarf waving on my sword. Then if I raise it slowly and wave it once downwards, gallop with thy party and attack the enemy’s right flank. If I raise it again slowly and wave it downwards twice, do thou, avoiding the enemy’s flank, sweep completely round and attack the rear. Never mind what mine own movements may be, thou hast but to obey mine orders. Of one thing be careful, that is, if I wave twice to slay all those footmen who retreated through the enemy’s ranks before thou makest any attack upon the cavalry from the rear. For they are Romans--the cavalry are chiefly Gauls, and I will dispose of them myself. But do thou be careful to despatch the footmen first; dost thou understand?”

“Ay, ay, Maharbal, I understand full well; but may I not start now? The clash and conflict of the battle are getting too much for me; I cannot, I fear, control either my feelings or my men much longer; I long to be at them. I can only express my feelings in verse.

“A poet I, yet thirst for blood,
For Roman blood I call!
And I would storm as mountain flood,
E’en though as flood I fall.

“There, would that not do for Sosilus? He would be delighted to parse, dissect, and destroy that little verse of mine, if he were only here. But, by Melcareth, Maharbal! versifying apart, do let me get at them soon; I can hardly keep my seat upon my horse for impatience.”

“Well spoken, my gallant poet,” replied Maharbal, smiling; “thou shalt, I wager, soon have plenty of mountaineering work to do in climbing over the bodies of the slain, so be not impatient. But one word. In attacking, look thou well to thy guard--you poets are so incautious. After striking, ever raise thy wrist and cover thyself again before another blow. Now farewell, and the gods be with thee; return to thy troops.”

Very shortly after these orders had been given, Maharbal issued from the wood and waved his sword with the attached handkerchief twice. Like arrows Chœras and his men started from their cover, and sweeping over the plain, avoiding the flanks, fell upon the rear of the Romans. Dreadful then was the slaughter of the footmen who had retired behind the Roman cavalry. At the same instant Maharbal swept round the other flank, and, leaving the footmen alone, fell with his men upon the rear of the Roman cavalry. The whole aspect of the battle was changed in a moment. The whole Roman force, with the exception of a band that rallied around Scipio, broke and fled, and the greater part of the Carthaginian horse pursued them. Maharbal, however, charged the serried foes around the Roman leader, and with his terrible blows had soon cut a lane right through their ranks up to the Commander himself, slaying the standard-bearer and seizing the standard. Vainly did Scipio raise his already tired arm to ward off the fearful blow that Maharbal now dealt. He struck at the Consul with all his force, but his sword, glancing off the Consul’s helmet, clove his shoulder. It cut clean through his armour and half-severed his right arm. The shock threw Scipio from the saddle, and his attendants now fled to a man. Maharbal was about to dismount, and secure the person of the Consul as his prisoner, when suddenly Monomachus burst upon the scene, wounded and dismounted, brandishing a bared dagger which he stooped to strike into the prostrate Roman’s throat. But first he plunged his hand in the Roman’s blood.

“Hold! hold, Monomachus!” cried Maharbal. “Slay him not, he is the General and a noble foe, and he is moreover my prisoner. Thou shalt not slay him!”

“Curse thee!” cried the slaughterer furiously, “I tell thee I will slay him, ay, and thee too if thou interfere,” and he knelt over the body of Scipio to despatch him.

At that moment there came a shock. A young Roman officer with five or six followers charged in upon the scene. With one spear-thrust the leader transfixed the neck of the bloody Monomachus, and then he instantly turned upon Maharbal.

“Ha! we meet again,” he cried, and rushed upon him. It was young Scipio! But he was no match for Maharbal, who easily avoided the spear-thrust, and then with a scornful laugh charged him in turn. Striking him merely with his fist, he knocked him off his saddle.

“Ay, once again we meet and once again I spare thee, Roman!” he cried, “and again I spare thee simply for thy valour’s sake.”

Then seeing himself surrounded by Romans, he struck down a couple of them, and pressing his horse out of the throng, escaped, bearing the Roman eagle with him.