The Son

The Son

The House of Thunder Series: Book 2

An Historical Novel about the Second Punic War

Chris Craig 2012

Smashwords Edition

1st Edition

Copyright Chris Craig 2012

ISBN 978-1-4659-6903-3

*** ***

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Put another way; if you enjoy this book (he said in the confident expectation that you will), then please pay the freight so the author can afford to sit down and write you another. Thanks.

Other titles by Chris Craig currently available:

Lithgow

Catterthun

The House of Thunder Series:

Book 1: The Father

Coming soon:

Noah’s Ark

The House of Thunder Series, Book 3: The Fall

Cover Image: A marble bust of Hannibal found at Capua.

Table of Contents:

Chapter - Title

1 - Spain 229 BC

2 - Illyria

3 - Gallacia

4 - Spain & Sicily

5 - Spain

6 - Saguntum

7 - Carthage

8 - Catalonia

9 - The Rhone

10 - The Alps – The Ascent

11 - The Alps – The Descent

12 - The Ticinus

13 - The Trebia

14 - The Colline Pass

15 - Lake Trasimene

16 - Capua

17 - Gereonium

18 - Cannae

The House Of Thunder Book 2: The Son

Chapter 1

Spain. 229BC

(return to ToC)

He became aware of the comfort to be found under the shelter of his cloak and rolled over, drawing the garment tighter about him. But the shaking continued, and the voice. The blackness behind closed eyes swam as he began to emerge from an exhausted sleep. A hand kept shaking his shoulder.

He winced as he opened his eyes, bright light shafting through lids opened but a crack. He put his hand up to shade his face and smelled the dust of the ground and heard the bustle about him.

Hannibal, Hannibal, the voice persisted. He remembered now. He had returned to the camp shortly before dawn. Pushing himself up on one arm, he looked about. Alongside him were the men of his cavalry squadron, covered by their cloaks, sleeping on the ground in a row parallel to their tethered horses. All about them the camp was bustling. Infantry men assembling, cavalry horses swinging past in columns, elephants raising dust as they mustered.

What? What is it? Hannibal asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

General Hasdrubal asks you to attend a meeting of staff and Captains, Sir, the man replied.

When?

Now, Sir.

Hannibal rose, brushing dust from his uniform tunic and cloak.

I will go. Rouse the men. Have them ready the horses, he ordered.

Hannibal was a young man in his early twenties; slender yet powerful, his body hardened by the demands of military life. Brushing fingers through his shock of black hair he put on his helmet and made his way through the bustle of the camp, stopping to give way to some elephants. The riders waved in recognition as they passed. Everyone knew Hannibal. He was, after all, son of the late Hamilcar Barca, greatest General their army had ever produced.

Hannibal had his father’s looks – thick black hair, strong brow and determined jaw. But he had also taken after his mother. His features were slightly finer than his father’s – he was also finer in build than his father had been. Lean but strong, where Hamilcar had been solid and powerful. Hannibal’s eyes also shone with a keen intelligence and could fix people with a penetrating gaze. It seemed there was a light about him, a sense that destiny had something special in mind for this young man.

Ah, Hannibal, Hasdrubal greeted him as he arrived at the conference, that is all of us, I think.

A dozen men were gathered under a shade stretched from a scrubby tree to Hasdrubal’s tent. They stood around a table bearing a shallow box in which sand had been carefully carved into a replica of the countryside to the north of their camp.

As I was saying, Hasdrubal continued, our cavalry swept the surrounding country last night and there appears to be no relief that can reach the enemy in time. Is that right Hannibal?

Yes, General. We covered all the ground for more than a day’s march in every direction. There were no bodies of troops that we could discover, other than the camp of the Olcades tribe to our front, of course.

Today, Hasdrubal went on, is our day, then. The troops are mustering as we speak. We will move in one hour’s time. Will our Spaniards be ready, Areva? The Libyans? The elephants? The cavalry?

Each of the captains nodded their confirmation that their men would be prepared for battle.

Good, said Hasdrubal, now, let us look at our plan for the attack. He turned to the sand tray, drawing a long knife to act as a pointer.

Here, he said, "as you can see, is the enemy camp, next to high, rocky ground on our right.

And here, on the other flank is another outcrop of rocky hills, on our left. They have men encamped on that ground already, do they not?

Yes, General, they were still there last night, Sir, Hannibal confirmed.

Well, Hasdrubal turned back to the model, I assume that they are intending to use the rocky ground and their camp to anchor their flank on our right, and the hills to protect their flank to our left. They will form a line between these two strongholds to face us in depth.

The captains all nodded, seeing with their minds’ eyes a mass of Spanish tribal warriors crowded across the flat ground of the pass between the two outcrops of rocky hills.

My plan, Captains, Hasdrubal said, drawing lines through the sand with his knife point, is to attack the camp’s fortifications with our elephants. The Libyan spearmen will support them. Areva, you will take our Spaniards to face the tribal men in the hills to our left. Hannibal, you will lead our cavalry against the troops massed in the centre. Any questions or comments?

The captains all nodded thoughtfully, looking at the sand model.

Could I make a suggestion, General, Hannibal asked.

Certainly, Hannibal. What is it?

That we send the Numidian light horse on a flanking manoeuvre. If they ride hard, they may be able to circle the range of hills on our left and still arrive in time to assist.

There will be precious little chance to employ them in the confines of the pass the Olcades have chosen for their stand. Good idea, Hannibal. See to it at once, Hasdrubal said.

Yes, General, Hannibal replied, taking his leave of the gathering.

And the rest of us had better see to our men, Hasdrubal said to the others as Hannibal hurried off, we will move off as soon as the troops are ready.

Great columns of men, horses and elephants assembled outside the Carthaginian camp. Through the dust the dark shapes of the Numidian light horse swept past at the gallop, dark horses, dark skin and black hair all contrasting with their white tunics as they raced away to the west, arcing out of sight behind the range of hills.

The rest of the army began to make its ponderous way forwards: the elephants making their way to the right of the advancing horde, Libyans behind them. The cavalry walked their horses into the centre and the Spaniards swarmed forwards on the left. The army crested a slight rise and the camp of the enemy came into view. They could see trails of dust as enemy scouts hurtled across the level valley floor to warn of the Carthaginian approach. A dark mass of Spanish infantry was already pouring from the gates of the fortified encampment, spreading across the gap between the rows of rocky hills.

Hasdrubal’s army marched across the plain towards the gap and the encampment, advancing on the men lining up to face it. At a signal from Hasdrubal the army halted. Horses neighed and whinnied as they were eased into position, forming lines. Elephants snorted their impatience, throwing dust up with their trunks. Men stood patiently, mouths dry with tension and excitement.

The Olcades warriors were also in position now. Their heads could be seen peering over the spiked wooden wall of the camp, massed to defend it. From the camp wall more warriors had formed a line across the gap to the far hills, a distance of some five hundred paces. Their black cloaks and shields merged into a single threatening dark mass blocking the way. Twenty men deep, they were chanting and crashing their spears against their shields, working themselves up for the fight. More black cloaks and shields could be seen in ragged lines stretching up to the crest of the hill on the far side, spread out across the slope amongst the rocks and scrub.

Hasdrubal looked one way and then the other along his battle line. Observing all was ready, he drew his sword and held it aloft before pointing it towards the enemy. At the same moment a trumpet blast rang out, drawing attention to the signal to charge.

A great shout went up as men and beasts surged forward towards the Olcades. In the centre Hannibal raised his spear over his head and cried out the order to charge. The cavalry sprang forward with him, leaping into the attack. On his right he could see the elephants rumbling towards the fortifications and the men swarming behind them.

Looking to his front, Hannibal could see that the Spanish tribal warriors were charging at him and his cavalry. They ran forward, spreading out as they hurtled towards him, dust rising from their sandaled feet as they sprinted. Shield held up on one arm and javelin or pilum held at the ready in the other, on they came, shouting cries that Hannibal could not hear over the thunder of his cavalry’s hooves.

Suddenly the two forces came together. Men hurtled between the horses and the horses hurtled between the men, each stabbing with their spears as they passed. Hannibal saw a warrior in front of him and stabbed his javelin at him, only to feel it deflect off the man’s shield. He saw a Spaniard’s sword slash past his leg, also missing. Another man appeared in front of him and Hannibal thrust with his javelin again. This time he felt the impact of the iron tip slicing into flesh and crunching into bone. His horse reared, flailing its front legs high in the air and Hannibal felt the shaft of his javelin splinter and snap as the Spaniard fell away. Throwing the shattered shaft aside, he drew his sword, cutting left and right with it as he wheeled his horse back into control.

Other riders were flashing past now, dark shapes in the dust thrown up by the charges and combat. The long iron tip of a pilum was thrust at Hannibal and he knocked it aside with his blade. As he did so he saw a javelin pierce the side of his assailant and the shape of another rider flashed past. He wheeled his horse to the front again, kicking the animal back into a gallop. It sprang forward, thrusting from its powerful haunches as a new row of charging Spanish warriors appeared before them. Hannibal felt the impact of his horse’s shoulder smashing one of the running men to the ground. He swung his sword and it rang as it glanced off the edge of a shield. He swung it on the other side and saw an iron ribbed helmet fly off as the man sprawled.

Then there was another cavalryman in front of him, wheeling and slashing with his sword at the warriors surrounding him. Hannibal pushed his horse into the crowd. The animal shoved the men aside and Hannibal slashed at their backs as they stumbled. He felt the blade bite into the shoulder of one man and thrust it forwards into the back of the next. He held his shield up with his left arm to deflect the thrust of a javelin and swung his sword again. Then he was surrounded by his fellow cavalry and suddenly the Spaniards all seemed to be gone, felled to the ground with dreadful wounds, or running wildly for their lives away from the milling cavalry.

The Carthaginian cavalry did not pause, but raced after the fleeing infantry, cutting them down as they ran. Hannibal reined in, however, looking about. On his right, through the clouds of dust he could see the massive shapes of the elephants pushing down the wooden fences of the encampment. On his left he could see the black capes of Areva’s infantry rushing towards those of the enemy up on the hillside. Shouting for his trumpeter to follow him, Hannibal set off after his cavalry, trumpet blasts ringing out to draw attention to his shouted commands to leave off the pursuit and rally.

The heavy cavalry men began to rein in their horses and turn to rejoin Hannibal in the centre of the field. On their left, Hannibal could see the Numidian light cavalry appearing, sweeping across to attack the rear of the fleeing Olcades. They could be relied upon to hound the routing troops and ensure they did not return to the battle, so Hannibal looked for another target for his cavalry.

The riders gathered, rallying to Hannibal’s position in response to repeated trumpet peals. Their horses were blowing hard from the charge as they pulled them into lines. Hannibal made his choice as the horses regained some breath and, waving his sword over his head, shouted the order for his men to follow him in a charge on the rear of the Spaniards facing Areva’s men on the hillside.

Hasdrubal cantered his horse across the battlefield, followed by his standard bearer, trumpeter and staff officers. They reined up alongside Areva on a spur on the hillside, from which they could overlook the battle as it unfolded. Together they watched Hannibal lead his cavalry up onto the hill, weaving through the outcrops of rock and scrubby bush.

He leads the cavalry well, Hasdrubal said to Areva, pulling up beside him.

They would follow him into a fire, Areva agreed.

They watched in silence as Hannibal’s cavalry spread across the rear of the Olcades’ position on the hillside, milling in groups as they came upon enemies in the rough terrain and patchy combats broke out.

The tribal Spanish warriors saw the cavalry advancing on their rear and began to flee. Breaking off their combat with Areva’s men they began to swarm back across the rough ground. Some passed through Hannibal’s cavalry, leaping onto rocks and crashing through brush to escape the swords and javelins of the riders. Others turned and fled across the crest of the hill with Areva’s infantry hot on their heels.

Across the gap they could see the elephants and Libyans surrounding a mass of men. The Spaniards in the camp had surrendered and were now walking out onto the plain, a downcast and ragged group. Behind them, smoke was rising as the Libyans plundered and burned the camp.

A good day’s work, Hasdrubal said. Rally your men, Areva. We will assemble the army down there and make our way back to camp. Tomorrow we will send messages to the neighbouring tribes seeking peace. Perhaps they will be more interested than the Olcades were.

The rest of the campaigning season passed without further major battles. Hasdrubal and his army pressed further north. Some minor skirmishes broke out between their scouting parties and the native tribes of the area, but most agreed to peace terms with the Carthaginians in meetings that Hasdrubal held along their line of march.

News of the Carthaginian success in subduing the northern tribes began to filter back to Saguntum. On the march northward, Hasdrubal had taken the army well inland, so as to avoid alarming that city. But now that it was clear that the Carthaginians had established a degree of control over territory on all sides of Saguntum, the citizens revisited the debate which had been simmering in the city for years, since the arrival of Hamilcar (Hasdrubal’s predecessor) in Spain.

The city had a clear choice to make. Should they throw their lot in with the emerging power of the Carthaginians in Spain, or should they retain their association with Rome? The citizens were divided on the question and the competing views had found expression in the election of rival groups to the governing body of the city – its Assembly.

Hasdrubal’s army was passing to the west of the city, making its way south to New Carthage for the winter. As it made its way south the leaders of Saguntum were meeting in the chamber of their council.

We cannot invite the Carthaginians into our lands and city, Alco, the leader of the pro- Roman faction spoke passionately. He was short, dark and pugnacious. His dark eyes glinted as he spoke.

We would be throwing away years of friendship with Rome, he said, we would be throwing away the favoured position we enjoy among the cities of Spain. And for what? To be sucked dry by tribute, to swell the coffers of Hasdrubal.

Allucius, a tall, greying statesman and leader of the pro- Carthaginian faction rose to reply.

You all know, he said, that the friendship that we enjoy from Rome has but one source and purpose. Rome wants to use our city and her access to the sea; as a bridgehead in the event she wants to take Spain.

Rome is not going to invade Spain. Alco, the pro Roman leader interjected. Rome has enemies closer to home: the Gauls in the north of their own country, for instance. She can spare no army for Spain.

No, replied the leader of the pro- Carthaginian faction, "no, she cannot. Not at the moment. But when business with the Gauls is settled, then she will have men enough for the task. And then, should she send them here, the Carthaginians cannot allow such a thing. Our city will be the centre of the greatest battle the world has seen. Which ever side wins, we will not survive to see it.

At least, if we seek an agreement with the Carthaginians, the Romans would look elsewhere, perhaps attacking New Carthage, if and when they decide to take Spain. We will have no value for them.

No, replied the pro- Roman Alco, "we will not. Nor we will not be able to expect them to support us in expanding our lands and influence. We have been held under the hand of Massilia for generations. Now we are in the shadow of New Carthage. If Saguntum is to rise, we have to take what is rightfully ours.

The lands of the Torboletai are the first that we must bring under our rightful control. But this tribe, we now hear, has subjugated itself to Hasdrubal. We must send another envoy to Rome, seeking their help to restrain this Carthaginian interference in our affairs! I propose that we vote on this question now, without further delay.

There was further fierce debate amongst the council, however, before the motion was narrowly carried. An envoy was dispatched to Rome, seeking assistance against the Carthaginians.

Hasdrubal wintered in New Carthage. The winter gales blew rain across the tiles of his magnificent palace. Ships tugged at their mooring ropes as heaving seas beyond the breakwall sent small waves into the harbour like spies.

Winter passed into spring and ships of trade began to ply the sea again, bringing all the goods of the world to the door of New Carthage and taking away vast fortunes of silver in return. More troops and equipment also arrived as Hasdrubal continued to build up his armed might. Shipyards were established in both Gades and New Carthage and Carthaginian warships once again began to slide down the ramps into the harbours. Hasdrubal took stock of his garrisons. In this coming summer he would be able to field an army of more than one hundred thousand men.

Word arrived at Hasdrubal’s palace that Rome had sent an envoy to Saguntum. The envoy had visited that city and was now making his way down the coast in a Roman ship, seeking an audience with Hasdrubal at New Carthage. In due course the city’s lookouts reported a Roman vessel making its way around Cape Palus.

The ship nosed into the harbour and tied up at the main wharf. A gangplank was slid across and a Roman guard of honour crossed, standing in two straight lines, extending the sides of the gangway, the plumes of their helmets moving in the breeze. As Hannibal watched, an old man came across from the ship, stooped and walking with the aid of a staff. As he reached the end of the line of guards, Hannibal stepped forward to greet him.

Buteo, citizen and envoy of Rome, Hannibal said formally as he rose from a bow, we are honoured to receive you in New Carthage.

Thank you, young man, Buteo replied, I seek an audience with Hasdrubal, General of Carthage, to present my credentials and discuss affairs of state.

General Hasdrubal awaits us in the Palace, your eminence. He asked me to escort you there. I have a chariot here for your transport, Sir.

Very kind of you, young man, Buteo smiled and nodded to his guard, well, let us be on our way to your palace.

The chariot rattled across the cobbles at a slow pace through the new city. Buildings had arisen on each side of the road leading from the harbour to the palace which overlooked the harbour and bay. Goods of all sorts were being taken to and fro; from the countryside into the city, from the warehouses to the docks. Hannibal and Buteo made their way through the throng and turned into a large cobbled square before the palace.

Hannibal alighted from the chariot and turned to assist the old man. Together they walked up the wide staircase, across the pillared veranda of the building and through the high doors. Once inside, Buteo stopped for a moment to let his eyes adjust from the bright light outside. He blinked and looked around at the vaulting chamber.

Windows high up along a raised part of the ceiling admitted shafts of light which struck the massive pillars lining both sides of the room. Marble slabs crazed with gold veins shone on the floor. Buteo’s staff made a sharp tap each time he took a step. At the end of the room, lit by flaring torches and shafts of light from the high windows was a throne set on a dais with steps leading up to it. Here sat Hasdrubal with Areva standing at his side.

Buteo halted before the throne and did his best to bow, clinging to his staff for balance.

Greetings, Buteo, said Hasdrubal, returning the bow from his seat.

Thank you for receiving me, General Hasdrubal, and may I present my credentials? He held out a small scroll. Hannibal took it and walked up the stairs, handing it to Hasdrubal.

It is a pleasure to see you again, Buteo, Hasdrubal said, looking briefly at the document, and even more so now that we can offer you hospitality more in keeping with your station.

You have achieved a great deal since my last visit, General, a great deal indeed.

Thank you Buteo, now allow me to present my Captains. You recall Areva?

Most certainly I do, said Buteo with a small bow.

But I do not believe you have met Hannibal Barca before today, Hasdrubal said.

Barca? Buteo asked, turning an aged eye towards the young man.

Yes, Ambassador, son of Hamilcar Barca, Hasdrubal explained.

No, I have not had the pleasure before today. As you may know, young man, I had the pleasure of making your father’s acquaintance – an especial pleasure as we had been enemies in Sicily some years ago.

I have heard of your previous visit, Ambassador, Hannibal said.

Please accept my condolences on your father’s passing, belated though they are. He was a noble enemy and is still spoken of as a great general by all who encountered him, friend and enemy alike, Buteo said.

Most kind of you, Ambassador, Hannibal replied.

So, Ambassador, enjoyable as it is, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company on this occasion? Surely the citizens of Saguntum are not concerned with us again? We have taken great care not to lift a hand against them since your last visit, Hasdrubal brought the meeting to its business.

Certainly, the citizens of Saguntum have expressed their concerns at your subjugation of the northern tribes, General, Buteo began, "but I for one will say to them that you have stuck to Hamilcar’s assurances in both word and deed. I see no concerns that they can validly maintain.

The citizens of Massilia, on the other hand, have concerns now that your troops have reached out towards the banks of the Ebro. It is my task to discover if it is your intention to proceed past that river, into the lands further north.

Hasdrubal looked at Areva and Hannibal.

Our intentions, he said, have not changed from those that Hamilcar Barca expressed to you. We seek to secure our interests in Spain, no further. We seek to ensure the supply of sufficient wealth to pay the indemnities that Rome requires. Yes, we seek to subdue the peoples of Spain, and have gone a way towards achieving that goal. But it is in pursuit of the mutual interests of our peoples, in pursuance of the treaty between us, not an attempt to breach it.

I was sure, Buteo said, "that was the case and it is with special pleasure that I hear your words confirming it.

I say it is a special pleasure as the Senate of Rome has empowered me to offer you a treaty of friendship between our peoples in regard to this issue.

Indeed? What would be the terms of such a treaty as you propose? Hasdrubal asked, thinking rapidly.

That Rome, for her part, will recognise your possession of the lands south of the Ebro while you do not cross the Ebro bearing arms.

This is a most interesting proposal, Buteo, most interesting indeed, Hasdrubal said, pulling at his chin, and I am much inclined to it. But here, what sort of hosts are we? Hasdrubal came down the steps from the throne, taking Buteo by the arm.

Come, he said, let me show you the rooms we have prepared for your stay here. Please send back to your ship for what things you require, and also have brought up those of your staff you would have stay with you. They will also be made welcome."

Most kind of you.

And tonight we will set a feast in this hall to celebrate your arrival, if you would consent to join us.

I would be most happy to attend.

They walked through the door at the rear of the great hall, showing Buteo to his accommodation.

Later that night, Hasdrubal, Areva and Hannibal met on the veranda of the palace. Sounds of revelry were coming from inside the hall – the feast to honour Buteo was still in full swing. The air in the hall had been hot and heavy with the rich smells of roast meat and spilled wine, not to mention the smoke from a hundred torches and lanterns lighting the festivity. Out here on the veranda the air was cool and crisp. A sea breeze was still coming across the water of the bay. The men stood silent for a time amongst the great pillars reaching up into the darkness, breathing in the fresh air and enjoying the change.

Well, Hasdrubal said at last, what do you make of Buteo’s offer?

At first glance, Areva replied, it would seem that they are forsaking any future interest in Spain.

And abandoning Saguntum, Hannibal added.

I cannot believe that is in their mind, it is certainly not in their nature, Hasdrubal said thoughtfully.

No, Areva said, it was Hamilcar’s long held view that Rome must one day attack us here in Spain, and move against Carthage in Africa. I cannot disagree with him still. Rome will not rest while another power can look them in the eye. It does not seem to me that they have changed their ways.

I would not think so, either, Hasdrubal replied, but perhaps I can see their thinking. They have grave concerns regarding the Gauls. And I hear that they have concerns at the rise of Illyria and Macedonia in the east. If the north and east are already against them, perhaps they do not want to find the west and the south have risen up against them too.

So they are seeking to secure a treaty with us while they deal with the Gauls and Illyrians, Hannibal conjectured.

And secure the south in doing so. Carthage could not strike against them without our armies, Hasdrubal explained.

Is there any reason not to enter into this treaty? Areva asked.

It would stop us moving our armed forces north of the Ebro, for one thing, Hannibal answered.

But why would you do that? Areva persisted.

As my father said long ago, if Rome were to attack, that is exactly what we would do, Hannibal replied.

Ah, Hasdrubal saw the light, I think I see Areva’s meaning. In that case, Rome will have broken the treaty anyway and we would be quite free to act in our own defence.

That is my reading of it, Areva confirmed, they want to secure their rear for a push into the east. We cannot do anything about that. But we can use the time it gives us to consolidate our power here and build our strength against the day Rome turns her eyes once again to Spain.

You speak wisdom, Areva, Hasdrubal said.

I think it is what Hamilcar would have done, Areva replied.

The three men stayed on the veranda for a while longer, silent, enjoying the breeze and the view over the bay before returning to the hall.

After another day of negotiations the treaty was concluded and reduced to writing. It was a simple treaty. Rome, for her part, agreed not to interfere with Hasdrubal’s consolidation of his control of Spain. Hasdrubal, for his part, agreed not to send armed forces across the River Ebro.

Buteo spent a few more days enjoying the sights around New Carthage, unobtrusively taking careful note of the city’s fortifications and the forces based there. More feasts were held in his honour, entertaining various groups of merchants, military officers and tribal chieftains allied to the Carthaginians. They were colourful affairs with a mix of fine robes, splendid uniforms and tribal tokens of office.

On the eve of Buteo’s departure a final banquet was held at the palace. Hannibal had grown weary of the round of feasting and had missed the previous two night’s events, claiming he had duties to attend to. In truth he had begun to feel heavy and sluggish, weighed down by rich food and heady wines. A brisk ride out to the Cape had refreshed him, however, and he did not resent the polite reminder that Hasdrubal sent. It was Buteo’s final night in New Carthage and Hannibal’s presence would be appreciated by all. Putting on his dress uniform, Hannibal felt that he would enjoy the night after all. He was hungry and he was thirsty. There would be food and there would be drink. What more could a young man ask for?

In high spirits Hannibal bounded up the steps to the palace two at a time. He paused to straighten his attire before entering the great hall. The guards either side of the great doorway presented their arms as he passed through, into the milling crowd inside.

Taking a glass of dark red wine from a table as he passed, Hannibal made his way through the crowd to report his attendance to his brother-in-law. He saw Hasdrubal talking to a huge man in a bulking black cape, wearing the strapped leather vest and vambraces of a Spanish warrior.

Ah, Hannibal, Hasdrubal said, how good of you to come.

I could hardly stay away, my General, Hannibal replied with a small bow of the head.

Hannibal, Hasdrubal went on, have you met Iskertar? Iberian Chieftain. Iskertar, this is my brother-in-law and Captain of Cavalry, Hannibal Barca.

Your reputation goes before you, Captain Hannibal, Iskertar said, placing a huge hand across his breast and bowing.

As does yours, Chieftain of the Iberian people, Hannibal replied, bowing also. As he straightened from his bow, Hannibal saw Iskertar turn slightly, revealing a woman standing behind him.

Allow me to introduce my daughter, Captain. This is Imilce.

Hannibal stood transfixed, as if a bolt of lightning had fused him to the floor.

Imilce had glorious black hair spilling down over her suntanned shoulders. Her dark eyes shone with intelligence and flashed with amusement at Hannibal’s apparent loss for words. Her eyebrows were two perfect arches. Her smile revealed even, white teeth and an inner warmth that shone like the heavy silver ornaments lying against her skin.

Hannibal could not hear the conversation around him. It was still going on, he realised. But it meant nothing to him. The view surrounding Imilce seemed blurred, as if the whole of the world had suddenly focused on this one, lovely creature.

I am pleased, pleased to meet you, Hannibal got out. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if Hasdrubal and Iskertar were staring at him, if he was making a spectacle of himself. But he realised that he did not care. He could not physically turn to look at them in any case. He could not take his eyes off Imilce.

And I am pleased to meet you, Captain, Imilce said with a pretty smile, holding her hand out to him. He hesitated, dazzled by the radiance of her smile and then took her hand lightly, jarred by a shock from the brush of her soft skin. As he bowed he hoped that he was not blushing ridiculously.

Hannibal. Hannibal! Hasdrubal was saying. Hannibal realised that Hasdrubal had been speaking to him but he had not heard a word. He turned to his General with a blank look.

They have brought out the food, Hannibal. We should take our places, Hasdrubal said.

Certainly, Hannibal replied, turning to take his leave of Imilce. But she had already gone, following in the wake of her father.

Hannibal ate sparingly of the food that was arrayed before them, although he could not remember food that tasted so delicious. Each bite was a discovery. How was it that he had not noticed these magnificent flavours before? He drank thirstily of the wine, enjoying its cool taste, but not feeling the slightest effect from it. He was alight with an excitement that wine could not dampen.

As he picked at his food, he watched Imilce across the room. She nimbly picked at her food, deferring to her father as he spoke to those around them. Hannibal noticed the men all seemed to want to speak to her, however, and she invariably replied with a smile that flashed across the room like a beacon, tossing her hair back from her shoulder before taking a sip of wine that made her lips shine in the red light of the torches flaring around the hall.

The guests had finished eating and music was floating through the hall above the murmur of conversation. Hannibal once again congratulated Buteo on the treaty they had concluded. Everyone was congratulating everyone else, it seemed. Hasdrubal made a speech which Hannibal did not hear as he looked unsuccessfully around the room for a glimpse of Imilce. There was clapping and then everyone was talking over the music again. More wine was brought around and it seemed each person he met wanted to make conversation as he made his way around the room. Hannibal was bound to make polite replies and, even though he did his best to avoid being caught, it seemed that the night must surely end before he could find Imilce again.

Then, suddenly, he found himself standing next to her. In a flash he realised something about himself. As the son of Carthage’s greatest General, Hannibal had been in a privileged position all his life; he had wanted for nothing. But since boyhood he had grown up in army camps and on the march. This life had left him singularly ill- equipped to make conversation with a beautiful young woman.

But even with the tension of having to think of something to say, it was a relief to be standing next to her. He felt as if he had found something he feared lost. She smiled up at him.

Hello, Hannibal said at last, feeling his pulse race.

Hello, she replied.

How are you enjoying New Carthage? he asked after great mental effort.

It is a lovely city, Imilce replied. Although she appeared confident and poised, as women seem able to do, Imilce was also not sure of her ground. She was used to male attention but was flustered by the interest of this son of a famous General. Hamilcar had been regarded as almost a god by her people. And now here was his son - his handsome, dashing son, casting ardent glances at her. She was almost as tongue- tied as Hannibal.

They stood silently for a time, each searching for the next thing to say.

Where are you from? he asked.

Castulo, she replied.

Castulo is in beautiful country, he said.

Yes, it is, she replied.

Suddenly here was Hasdrubal, gathering people to farewell Buteo. He was leaving the party and best wishes for a good voyage had to be given. Apparently he had some role for Hannibal to play. Hannibal frowned at being dragged away from Imilce.

How long will you be in New Carthage? he asked quickly.

I do not know, a few more days, I think.

I will ask your father if I may see you again, he said, daring.

Please, do, she replied as Hasdrubal dragged the young man away to his duty.

Hannibal felt dizzy and elated. The room seemed much brighter than it had done before. The people were so happy. Buteo was such a gracious old man; it was a pleasure to escort him to his chambers. Please, do, she had said. Please, do. Life was wonderful, Hannibal thought as he made his way back to the barracks he shared with his cavalry unit.

The dignitaries of New Carthage gathered on the pier again the next morning to bid a final farewell to Buteo. Some were still heavy eyed from the night before and goodwill was exchanged without the need for long speeches. Buteo made his way across to the Roman ship and it cast off its moorings, swinging out into the harbour. It seemed no time at all before the ship passed the breakwater and put its prow into the rolling swells of the Mediterranean.

Hannibal smiled and whistled to himself as he walked back up the hill away from the harbour. It was a glorious day, a cool breeze but not a cloud in the sky. He had a couple of hours training to do with his men this morning, but then the day was his. Iberian Chieftain Iskertar had not been at the pier to see Buteo off, so Imilce had not been there either. But Hannibal had all the afternoon to find where they were staying. He was confident that he would track them down. As he walked he was planning his campaign with all the determination his father had been famous for.

Chapter 2

Illyria

(return to ToC)

Buteo’s ship had been working its way up the Mediterranean for a couple of days. The wind had swung around to the north as they cleared the coast of Spain, forcing them further south than the Captain would have wished. But now it was swinging back towards the west and south – a much more favourable wind for their purposes.

The ship rose and fell rhythmically on the long, rolling swells as they passed, lifting the deck under the sailors’ feet and then dropping it away again. Buteo sat, swinging in a hammock chair slung from the rear stays of the mast, in the stern of the ship. He was enjoying the warmth of the sun on his closed eyelids and the brush of the ocean breeze on his cheek.

Senator, he heard the voice of a junior officer of his retinue.

Young Scipio? What is it? Buteo replied, blinking and shading his eyes from the bright sun.

Good morning Senator, Scipio continued, the Captain and I were just discussing the seagulls, Sir.

Seagulls?

Yes, Senator, the seagulls, the ship’s Captain put in.

Buteo looked overhead and saw several of the birds sweeping past, their wings curving firm and pure white against the cobalt blue sky. They looked as if they had been carved from chalk.

What of these seagulls, Captain? Buteo asked.

I wondered if you noticed that they only appeared around the ship this morning, Senator, the Captain explained.

Buteo looked at him from under raised eyebrows and did not reply. He could not imagine why this Captain fellow would think he was interested in the comings and goings of sea birds.

They are, well, they nest on land, you see, Senator, young Scipio said, stepping into view, next to the Captain. Scipio was in his full dress uniform, cape billowing behind him in the breeze, his helmet held under his arm.

Tonight, the ship’s Captain continued, these birds will nest on the cliffs of Sardinia.

Oh, I see, said Buteo, well, we are making good progress then, I assume.

Yes, Senator, said the Captain, good progress. And as the wind is swinging more to the south as this morning goes on, you have the opportunity of breaking your journey at Sardinia. The wind would be fair for that course.

I see, Captain, Buteo replied with a shallow bow in his chair. Thank you for your consideration, he went on, but I must ask, has your ship water and provisions enough to get to Rome?

Yes, Senator.

And is the wind fair for that passage?

Yes, Senator, the wind is fair.

Then Captain, I must ask you to continue to Rome with all speed. The news that I carry is impatiently, if not anxiously, awaited by some in Rome. And it will be considered important, although not urgent. So, while the wind is fair, Captain, I must ask you to press on.

Certainly, Senator. My ship is yours to command. If you will excuse me I will go and ensure the sails are set for our best speed.

Certainly, Captain. Thank you. Turning to Scipio, Buteo went on give me a hand out of this chair will you, young man? These things are wonderfully comfortable but blasted difficult to get out of. Stretching as he rose, Buteo continued; Ahh, thank you. Now, if you have no other duties, you could accompany me. I will take a turn on the deck - I will benefit from the exercise. Pass me my staff, would you.

Certainly, Senator, it would be my pleasure to accompany you.

Have you been to Sardinia? Buteo asked the younger man as they strolled along the deck, following the gunwale along the curve of the ship’s side.

No, Senator, I have not had the chance or duty to visit there as yet.

Ahh, it is a shame, then, that we will not have the opportunity to call there on this trip.

As you say, Sir, our duty is to bring news of the treaty with Hasdrubal back to Rome. But I must ask, Senator, as I do not understand, why there is any requirement for speed in this undertaking. The Carthaginians have agreed not to move beyond the Ebro. There is no requirement for Rome to act further in this regard while ever the treaty holds.

"No, young man, you are right. There is not. As you have observed, this treaty secures the western approaches. And contains any threat from the south as well. Carthage could not move against us without Hasdrubal and his Spanish armies.

That is the news that is so anxiously awaited in Rome. Not, as you observe, because we must move in this direction, but because we are awaiting this news in order to move in other directions.

I am afraid that I still do not follow you, Senator, Scipio frowned. They reached the prow of the vessel. Buteo leaned against the ship’s rail, looking out to the distant, curving horizon.

You are young yet. Still in your father’s service, I gather? Buteo said.

Yes Senator, I still serve with my father.

"One your age should not immediately grasp the twists of politics. It does you credit that you see a word for no more than its ordinary meaning.

But if you are to serve Rome as she must be served, then you must go beyond this happy state. I suppose it is up to old men like me to educate the young, after all.

Scipio put a hand to the ship’s rail as the bow corkscrewed down the back of a wave. He waited for the old man to go on.

Rome, Buteo began, "is expanding rapidly, you see. It may not seem so, to you, from the view of youth. Much of what has happened will seem like stories of ancient times to you, I suppose. And I recall that things seem to move very slowly to the young... But I have lived through it. From where I stand, looking back, I can tell you, it has been swift, like a wave racing up the beach.

"To start, we pushed to the south, taking Sicily by arms.

"Then we pushed to the west, taking Sardinia while Carthage was busy with her mercenary rebellions.

Now, with the west and south secured, we can look to our oldest enemy – the Gauls in the north.

I have heard that the tribes have been gathering their forces across the Po, young Scipio contributed.

You have heard correctly. Many of our soldiers returning from the war in Sicily were resettled on their lands. The Gauls have resented our intrusion across the Apennines and will not stand it for much longer. They are a dangerous enemy. They took all of Rome, once, did you know? All of Rome except the Citadel. Can you imagine that?

Many years ago now, surely, Scipio said.

Not as many as it seems. About a hundred and fifty years ago, I think. A long time for a hot blooded young man, I grant you. But not long in the life of the world. And now their power grows again.

Buteo began walking back down the opposite side of the ship. The freshening wind was coming over this rail, blowing directly into their faces as they walked, pushing their hair and clothes back.

But surely Rome would now have the strength to crush the Gauls, now we have all of Italy to call on? Scipio asked.

Not yet. Not yet. Before we can look to our north, we must strike east. The east is the key now.

The east? The young man looked puzzled.

Yes, the east, my boy, the east, Buteo laughed. It would also seem like ancient history to you, I suppose, but my grandfather was alive when Alexander of Macedon conquered all of the world to the east of his kingdom. The whole world.

Surely Alexander is long gone.

But Macedon is very much still there. And they are on the rise again. They have allied themselves with the Illyrians and are attempting to subdue the Greek cities. If they succeed in that, they will be in a position of strength to match that of Alexander. They would be a spear in our side while we are at war with the Gauls.

I see. So we must strike east, so we can strike north.

Exactly, my boy. You learn quickly. As you say, we must look to the east before we can settle accounts in the north. Already we have supported Ptolemy of Egypt against Seleucis of Syria to keep allies from Macedon’s side. But the time is coming where we will need to involve ourselves more directly in the Hellenistic affairs.

There is such a lot to know, to take into account. Much simpler to charge an enemy line, Scipio remarked.

That is why we leave the fighting to you young fellows. And why we leave the politics and diplomacy to old men like me. It takes us many years to become unpleasant enough to understand the business.

Scipio looked at Buteo without speaking. He did not know whether to agree with that last statement or not.

Buteo threw back his head and laughed at the young man’s discomfort.

There is no correct response to that, young Scipio, he said, "do not concern yourself. But look, here we are back at my chair. Stay with me, my boy. I think I can see another service I can render to Rome while this voyage lasts. Sit here, next to me.

"Now, if you take after your father, you are sure to be a leader in our forces – perhaps a Consul one day. It strikes me that young people today are deficient in their knowledge of history. If you are going to be a great General, we must remedy that. A good General must know