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Winter slowly settled in, bringing cold rains and biting winds. The new consuls were Cornelius Cethegus and Sempronius Tuditanus, but Scipio remained their general, as proconsul, biding his time, preparing the deathblow to the Carthaginian power. But, as often happens, the politicians back in Roma were jealous of his successes and did their best to recall him. They took advantage of the troubled situation in Locri, where Pleminius, Scipio’s protégé, was as harsh a governor as some treacherous Greeks deserved. They went as far as planning to remove Scipio from office. This outraged Gnaeus and every other soldier in Sicilia, making everybody suspect treachery was in the air again, as at Cannae. They were then announced a senatorial commission would visit the island soon, to assess the situation. Some incompetents from Roma, who had hardly ever held a gladius in their hands dared to believe they could assess a great general, the one Roman who could crush Hannibal. The soldiers were on the brink of mutiny and it was only Scipio’s personal intervention that convinced them to receive the commission well and demonstrate they were a proper Roman army, not a troublesome barbarian band.
After lengthy inspections of the arsenals and provision depots, the commission found no fault and was becoming more amenable with each passing day. The moment then came for the soldiers to demonstrate their skill in a mock battle on the uneven terrain South of the camp and West of the Plemmyrium, on dunes that resembled those of Africa. The soldiers were ordered to leave behind the metal gladii and to take up in stead the heavy wooden swords used for training. They were also given red or blue scarves to wear and to form up, accordingly, in two evenly matched armies, each two and a half legions strong, facing each other across the treacherous sandy terrain.
Gnaeus and his colleagues had been assigned to the blue army, which took up position facing East, towards the sea, while the red army took up position between “The Blues” and Plemmyrium, facing West. “The Blues” took the initiative and formed an oblique order, advancing their right flank, while holding back the left, where Gnaeus was. “The Reds” responded quickly by marching outwards, towards the South, some detachments of triarii from the back, thus extending their left flank. The triarii then wheeled inwards, forming a compact column at a straight angle with their main line, thus threatening to catch in a deadly pincer the advancing right wing of “The Blues”.
Gnaeus did his best to follow the movements on the other flank, trying to anticipate what would be required of him and his colleagues in response. The answer was quickly supplied by the trumpets, which ordered them forwards at full speed. The bellowing voice of Sornatius Priscus announced the left flank was to advance in the same oblique formation, while the right flank countermarched, until the whole army was formed up in a wedge formation, ready to smash through the weakened centre of the opponents.
“The Reds” responded by quickly marching all their troops towards the South, until their centre stood where their extreme left had been. Their entire left then performed the same manoeuvre their triarii had executed, so that they were now in a counter wedge, capable of bringing all their weight to bear against the right flank of “The Blues”.
It was a dangerous situation, but the legate that led “The Blues” tried to make the best of it and ordered his men to perform a half-turn towards the right and his left wing, now formed into a solid column, to march vigorously against the vulnerable right extremity of the opposing counter wedge.
At this point, the signal was received to cease all manoeuvres. The commission had seen enough. “The Blues” had started facing Eastwards, but were now facing South-Eastwards, while their red opponents had started facing Westwards and ended up facing in a general North-Westerly direction. It had been an exhausting chase and no side seemed to have gained a definite advantage.
The following day Scipio came to camp to congratulate them personally for their high level of discipline, which impressed the commissioners so much they lifted the eleven-year-old ban on their removal from Sicily. This was the piece of news they had been expecting for long years. The awful stigma of having survived Cannae was effectively removed from their foreheads. Gnaeus felt a warm tear in the corner of his eye and he was not the only one to feel the emotion of the moment.
“Soldiers!” Scipio addressed them. “Soldiers and citizens! I have promised you I would lead you to Africa. Now the Senate approves this and bids us delay no more. Will you follow me?”
There was no end to the enthusiasm that filled the hearts of all those present, who cheered their approval with all the force they could muster.
“You are fine soldiers! I know it and now the Senate knows it as well. We will depart as soon as the weather allows us and we will meet the Carthaginians in the field and defeat them utterly. We have every advantage. You are the better soldiers: each of you can single-handedly defeat ten Carthaginians. Their citizens are but merchants, selling fish, shells and colourful glass beads, none capable of holding a spear straight. All their might comes from their allies and now, soldiers, those allies are on our side! Gaius Laelius has recently returned with news from the Massaesylian king Syphax and he is now our friend and ally. We will also enjoy the element of surprise. They think their homeland safe and that is precisely where we will strike. But most of all, we will have Iuppiter on our side. With that confidence, soldiers, go to your tents now and rest, for you deserve it. Tomorrow you will resume your training and you will continue to train hard until spring. Some of you may think we train too much, but I tell you this: a winter spent in Capua in luxury and laziness has turned Hannibal’s army into a flock of fat sheep. You, Romans, are the offspring of Romulus, the one fed by the she-wolf! You are therefore fierce wolves yourselves and you must remain that way.”
With a short wave, Scipio dismissed them and they returned to their tents full of joy and confident for the future. The weeks that followed were spent in anxious expectation of spring. Tough training in often unfriendly weather helped them become stronger, but most importantly, it kept them busy, otherwise the wait would have proven unbearable. |
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At the break of spring, the moment of departure was upon them. They were skilled in using the sword and quick to obey orders. They were eager to fight the Carthaginians, but much of the enthusiasm that animated them after the inspection of the senatorial commission had faded. Now that they counted the days before departure, old fears began to surface. The Carthaginians had proven to be fierce foes in Italia, so who knows what they will do to defend their homeland?
The soldiers were very surprised one day to see a delegation of Numidian emissaries enter the camp and head straight towards the praetorium, entering Scipio’s tent. They made an interesting sight, dressed as they were in Greek clothes and adorned with Punic jewellery. They maintained all the time a detached and somewhat arrogant attitude, perhaps too neat and formal for the representatives of a true ally. They spent a fairly brief time inside the tent and when they came out, they did so accompanied by Scipio’s guard, who escorted them out of the camp, all the way to their ship, anchored in the lesser harbour of Syracusae. They either did not wish or were not allowed to talk to anybody else, which only made the whole situation more awkward.
Since nobody had the faintest idea as to what had happened, everybody pretended to be in the know. The rumour-mill started to turn its devious wheel and the most fantastic stories were passed among the soldiery. Some said that Syphax had sent Scipio the head of Massinissa, asking to be recognised as the sole king of the whole Africa, as he was soon to take on Carthago all by himself; others, on the contrary, were adamant that he had in fact received a beautiful Carthaginian princess for his bride and he was now siding with the Carthaginians; others just thought Syphax was in trouble and was asking for help, trying to bribe Scipio to cross to Africa sooner. Whatever the truth, the soldiers felt a deep anxiety and the urge to talk about the incident. Syphax was, after all, an important man, who had at his disposal large bodies of the feared Numidian horsemen.
Two days later, Scipio ordered the assembly, wishing, no doubt, to put an end to the endless rumours.
“My good men!” he started ceremoniously. “Word has reached my ears that the recent visit of the emissaries from Syphax has needlessly upset you. I realise their arrival was unexpected and their departure hasty, which may cause some of you to raise an eyebrow in surprise. I will share with you the purpose of their visit, so you will no longer worry about a trifle. They had, indeed, come to me from Syphax. You all know him, he is our ally and a staunch one, eager to share with us the dangers of battle and eager to shake once and for all the Carthaginian yoke from the shoulders of Africa. His emissaries have, in fact, come to tell me we should hasten to battle, as their people is eagerly awaiting for us, ready to give us assistance in any way they could, promising provisions in abundance and men to fight with us. What did they tell me, soldiers, that I didn’t know already? What did they tell me that you did not know already? So I have sent them away with a snub. We make our own plans, soldiers! We decide when the time is fit for action! If they don’t like that, they can keep their provisions and grow fat on them – we have plentiful supplies, both from Italia and from Sicilia!”
This virile assertion of Roman superiority flattered the national pride of the soldiers and they cheered their approval of the general’s conduct.
“It so happens, soldiers, that I had already made up my mind to attack at once. Tomorrow, my good men, we leave camp and head to Lilybaeum and thence to Africa. The hour of victory is near!”
Fully satisfied by Scipio’s explanations, Gnaeus and his comrades returned to their tents, packing up their few belongings and made ready for the long march along the Southern coast of Sicilia. They walked for two weeks and all the while their general rode up and down the column, watching them and distributing unsparingly praises and encouragements. When they arrived at Lilybaeum, they were given but one day to rest. The cargo ships were already laden with provisions, and the warships waited for the signal to depart. It bode well, this state of preparedness, and the soldiers were much encouraged. In one day, the whole host of five legions was embarked and set sail towards the soft belly of the Carthaginian empire: Carthago herself. |
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The journey was uneventful, though the gods chose to shroud them in mist. Was this a good or a bad omen? Gnaeus could not tell, and neither could Otacillianus, although Libo was convinced this was another instance of divine protection, for Neptunus was hiding them from the sight of the enemy, so as to help them land unopposed. At one point, the skies miraculously cleared, showing them a glimpse of land – the Promontory of Mercurius, their goal. Yet, the skies were immediately covered and they lost sight of that cape. The second day, they arrived at what the sailors called the “Promontorium Pulchrum”, the beautiful promontory. Scipio was quick to send word that this had been the intended target all along and everybody was relieved to hear that and no longer doubted that their general was, indeed, under the personal protection of Neptunus, the mighty god of the seas.
Africa proved to be quite different from what they had expected. It was not the home of monsters, but a beautiful country, with fertile lands and rich cities. One of these, Utica, they quickly put under siege. The people also were different than they had anticipated. Syphax had proven an untrustworthy dog and now sided with the Carthaginians, but the Romans could still feel the protecting hand of Iuppiter over them, for they were joined by the courageous Numidian prince, Massinissa, who brought with him a body of fine cavalrymen.
The remainder of the year was spent in pursuing the siege, skirmishing with the enemy and establishing defensive positions. Elections were held in Roma and Cn. Servilius Caepio and C. Servilius Geminus became the new consuls. It mattered more, however, for Gnaeus and for every other soldier in Africa that Scipio’s imperium was extended for another year. Winter found them well entrenched on the Promontorium Pulchrum, keeping a keen eye on Utica and the two enemy camps, that of Syphax and that of Hasdrubal.
One day, Gnaeus saw Sornatius Priscus, the centurion, dressing as a Greek slave. He understood from the irate look of the centurion that he was to ask no questions and, more importantly, tell nobody about the odd occurrence. Things became somewhat clearer when that night Sornatius joined them in front of the fire, wearing his usual, proper outfit.
“Otacillianus, you are to choose from your decuria four men you trust most. Tomorrow night, you and the other decurions are to join me for a night visit to the camp of Hasdrubal. I know the place now and you are to follow my every move.” With that, Sornatius finished what he had to say and moved on to the next tent.
“So that’s what the peace deputation was all about”, mumbled Otacillianus.
“What do you mean?” asked Gnaeus, not quite able to piece all the information together.
“This morning, I caught word that Scipio was sending a deputation to start negotiations with the Carthaginians. I was worried at first, but then I saw the Cyclops dressed as a slave – a sight to remember, to be sure. I realise now Scipio is as cunning as a fox and as deadly as a viper. He sent the envoys as a trick, in order to get men like Sornatius inside the camp, to have a look at things. When we strike, there will be no holding back. Libo, Corbulo, Vesonianus and Ampudius, prepare yourselves, you will come with me.”
Gnaeus slept ill that night, as dreams tortured him. He was endlessly chased along the banks of a fiery river by monstrous gorgon-headed riders with sphynx wings on lighning-quick horses. |
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In the morning, fifty men gathered in front of Sornatius’ tent. Some looked fresh and alert, others tired and worried. Sornatius announced the expeditionary corps would leave camp as soon as night fell, descend on the Western slope of the high hill on which they had taken position and march along its foot so as to avoid meeting any forward observation posts left by the Carthaginians. They were then to divide in two columns in order to attack simultaneously the two enemy camps. His centuria had been assigned to the body that would head for Hasdrubal’s, the one closer to Carthago, and they would be led by Scipio himself. The centurion then explained in detail the outline of the Carthaginian camp and said his centuria would take up position on the Eastern side. They were to eliminate the guards they came across and wait for Scipio’s signal. As soon as they heard the trumpets sound the attack, they were to rush forwards and set fire to the wooden huts of the Carthaginians. If any managed to crawl out, they were to kill them mercilessly. No prisoners were to be taken.
The soldiers retired to their tents, trying to catch some sleep in preparation for the night. Some, as Kaeso Otacillianus, managed to do so. Others, like Gnaeus, lay on their backs, brewing in their own fears, trying to find encouragement in the healthy snores of their comrades, in the thought that they had trained for years eagerly awaiting for this moment or in the thought that they were led by the best general Roma had to offer.
When night fell, the selected soldiers left camp in complete silence, without any torches, relying on the knowledge of their guides. These were experienced guides, who had learned the terrain in the many months of skirmishes and raids in the area. They had, therefore, no difficulty reaching their assigned position to the East of the camp. From that place, Gnaeus could see not only Hasdrubal’s camp, but also that of Syphax, further West, betrayed by the many fires left to burn throughout the night. That was a clear sign of lax discipline and Gnaeus took heart. This may turn out to be an easy task, after all. The thought was further strengthened by the ease with which the guards were eliminated, for they were all asleep, something a Roman soldier would never have done.
The trumpets roared like the thunder of Iuppiter smiting the giants. Gnaeus shouted like a madman, and broke into a run, along with the rest of the soldiers around him. This was the hour of revenge. In front of him were Carthaginians and he could not deny his fear. But he shouted as hard as he could, he shouted his wolf call.
He leaped in front of a wooden hut, and shouted like a mad harpy:
“Come out, come out, fat sheep! The Roman wolves have come to feast!”
A frightened shout answered his call. A short stout man, with bushy beard and still wearing a night cap stumbled out, eyes swollen with sleep. Gnaeus wasted no time and ran him through with his pilum. The Carthaginian released a pleading sigh, unable to understand why his neck ached all of a sudden and why his knees gave way and why darkness descended over his eyes. Gnaeus did not bother to extract his weapon from the corpse of his fallen enemy, but drew his gladius in stead and waited for the next attack. Another Carthaginian rushed forward with a short knife in hand, but stumbled over the corpse of his comrade and fell to the ground like a broken doll. Gnaeus decapitated him with a savage blow to the neck with the sharp metal rim on the lower side of his scutum. That moment, he saw Manius Ampudius taking up position to his left, eyes sparkling with anticipation.
“They’re mine! They’re all mine!” shouted Gnaeus, greedy for blood. His comrade understood and grinned like a demon, then rushed onwards, jumping over the two corpses.
Suddenly, smoke came out the hut that had been set on fire by some Roman. Two more Carthaginians rushed out at the same time, but became stuck in the narrow entrance. One of them lashed wildly at the other with his knife, trying through this cruel act of fratricide to earn his life. Gnaeus could see his face contorted by fear and his cheeks covered with tears. The Carthaginian took two steps, then froze. Gnaeus was waiting for him. He took another moment to watch his opponent. The eyes of the Carthaginian were wide, taking in the full horror of the burning camp. Gnaeus could read in them fear, a desperate fear that he was helpless against an enemy that was stronger, faster, smarter than him and anger, blind anger that he had been betrayed by his leaders, who in their utter stupidity had not watched over him as leaders should. This was to the Carthaginian what Cannae had been for him. He saw his rival stretching out his trembling right hand, pointing the knife towards him, trying desperately, against all hope, to keep him away. He saw his enemy stepping fearfully backwards, until his back was flat against the wall of the hut. Gnaeus approached. The Carthaginian fell on one knee, than his hand fell to his side, like a useless piece of felt. The man started to cry silently, pounding his chest with his fist and keeping his eyes glued to the Eastern horizon, where Carthago stood. He didn’t even look at Gnaeus when he came near him and slit his throat.
It was like sacrificing a bull to the gods and Gnaeus did so gladly. The whole Carthaginian camp was now a huge altar to Mars and Bellona. The fire was licking huts and corpses with greedy tongues. He felt he was on the very banks of the Phlegeton. He thought he could see his lost comrades, Manius Placidus, whom they had nicknamed Polyphemus, the inseparable Fufii brothers, Marcus and Sextus, whom they called the “Castores”, Quintus Mamillius, the rough peasant who always told them obscene jokes, Lucius Patulcius, who fell to appease the mob and help his comrades reach Africa. They were floating above the river of fire and looked at him, appeased.
The heat enveloped him, making his ears throb in the rhythm of a carmen triumphale. The heat enveloped him, drying the flesh on his face, hands and feet, turning him into a statue of bronze, unafraid and unmerciful. The heat enveloped him, extracting everything that was human in him and offering it to the gods as a sacrifice.
From now on, he was their equal, endowed with unstoppable might. His destiny as Roman was clear as daylight: the world lay at his feet. In his ears echoed words that would forever guide him:
“Parcere subiectis et debellare superbos!” |
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