Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

Bostar could not see the final units of the army, which trailed behind the baggage train, thousands of laden-down mules led by Iberian peasants. Protecting the rear were thirty-seven elephants, and more Celtiberians. Bostar thought that their uniform was probably the most striking in the entire force: black cloaks, bronze helmets with crimson crests and greaves made of sinew. Their shields were either round like those of the caetrati, or flat, elongated ovals, and they carried short straight swords and all-iron spears. Last of all, mobile and fast moving, were the many protective squadrons of Iberian and Numidian cavalry. These – the finest horsemen in the world – were Hannibal’s secret weapon.

They reached the general’s position not long after. The scutarius gave the password to the cavalryman who challenged them, which saw the protective cordon open up. Bostar dismounted quickly and threw his reins to the Iberian. As he approached, he felt Hannibal’s eyes upon him. Bostar moved even faster. He snapped off a salute. ‘You wished to see me, sir?’

Hannibal smiled. ‘Yes. I wasn’t expecting you so soon.’

Bostar couldn’t help but grin. ‘I wanted to find out what you had in mind for me, sir.’

Hannibal glanced at the officers to either side. ‘Eager, this lion cub, isn’t he?’

There was a ripple of laughter, and Bostar flushed, not least because the general and his brothers – the sons of Hamilcar Barca – were known as the ‘lion’s brood’.

Hannibal noticed at once. ‘Do not take offence, for I meant none. It’s soldiers like you who are the backbone of this army. Not like the thousands of men I had to let go after our recent campaign. Faint hearts.’

Bostar nodded gratefully. ‘Thank you, sir.’

Hannibal turned his eyes to the southwest, whence they had come. ‘It’s hard to believe that we only crossed into Gaul a few weeks ago, isn’t it? Seems like we haven’t fought a battle in an age.’

‘I won’t forget the journey in a hurry, sir.’ After the hostile, sun-scorched lands north of the Iberus, Bostar appreciated the fertile land of southern Gaul, with its tilled fields, large villages and friendly natives.

Hannibal’s nod was rueful. ‘Nor will I. Losing ten thousand men in under three months was most unfortunate. But it couldn’t be helped. Speed was of the essence, and our tactics worked.’

Mago shot his brother a disgruntled look. ‘Don’t forget the same number of troops, plus cavalry, that you had to leave to keep the bastards pacified.’

‘Soldiers who will also protect the area against Roman invasion,’ retorted Hannibal. ‘After defeating the troublesome natives, they should be able to take on a legion or two.’ He scratched his beard and eyed Bostar. ‘The worst of the lot were that tribe you had trouble with. The whoresons who would have slaughtered you but for the duel your mad brother fought.’

Bostar hid his amusement at Hannibal’s description of Sapho. ‘The Ausetani, sir.’

‘The same ones who wouldn’t allow the army to march through their lands unhindered. They were fools. But brave all the same,’ Hannibal acknowledged. ‘At the end, hardly any of them had wounds in their backs.’

‘They fought well, sir,’ agreed Bostar. ‘Especially the champion whom Sapho defeated. I counted ten of our soldiers lying around his corpse. His wound from the duel hadn’t even healed either.’

‘Malchus pointed him out to me afterwards,’ said Hannibal. ‘It’s incredible that your brother managed to beat him in single combat. The man was as big as Herakles.’

‘He was, sir,’ agreed Bostar fervently. His memories of the fight were still vivid. ‘Sapho had the gods on his side that day.’

‘He did. For all his bravery, though, your brother has a tendency to be rash. To act first, and think later.’

‘If you say so, sir.’ While Bostar agreed with his general’s assessment, it felt wrong to openly say so.

Hannibal gave him a shrewd look. ‘Your loyalty is commendable, but don’t think I didn’t hear about his refusal to pull back during that attack on Saguntum. If it hadn’t been for you, hundreds of men would have lost their lives unnecessarily. Eh?’

Bostar met his general’s gaze with reluctance. ‘Maybe so, sir.’

‘That’s why you’re here. Because you think before you take action.’ Hannibal waved at the rolling countryside, much of which was full of ripe wheat and barley. ‘Things are easy now. We can buy as much grain as we need from the locals, and live off the land the rest of the time. But the journey won’t all be like this. The weather will get worse and, sooner or later, we’ll come across someone who wants to fight us.’

‘Indeed, sir,’ said Bostar soberly.

‘We can only pray that it’s not the Romans at any stage before we reach Cisalpine Gaul. Hopefully, those bastards still have no idea of our plans. The good news is that my scouts, who have just returned from the River Rhodanus, saw no sign of them.’

Mago’s smile was like that of a wolf. ‘And the trail a legion leaves can’t be missed, so we have one less thing to worry about. For now.’

‘Have you heard of the Rhodanus?’ asked Hannibal.