Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

Fabricius’ heart thumped in his chest. The rumour was true. ‘And their number?’

‘Perhaps fifty thousand men all told. Not quite a quarter of that is made up of cavalry.’

Fabricius’ eyebrows rose. This was a larger army than he’d ever faced in Sicily.

Publius saw his reaction. ‘I was surprised too. Hannibal means to attack Italy. Fortuna had been generous indeed to alert us to his purpose before he arrived. Go on, Clearchus.’

‘They camped by the river for several days, constructing rafts and boats, and no doubt planning their tactics against the Volcae, the hostile natives on the eastern side. The result was extraordinary, sir. Hannibal sent a strong force upriver, which crossed undetected and fell on the tribesmen’s rear.’ Clearchus made a circle of his thumb and forefinger. ‘They crushed them with ease. Nearly the whole army has traversed safely since then. Only the elephants remain on the far bank.’

‘Imagine if we had landed a week earlier, and been there to contest the passage of the river. The war might already be over!’ Publius cried in frustration. His face turned cunning. ‘We still might have a chance, though, Clearchus?’

‘That’s right, sir. Getting the elephants across will take at least two to three days. Perhaps more. Several attempts have already failed.’

‘Excellent. Now, I need someone to take a look at the Carthaginian army. A Roman officer.’ Publius glanced at Clearchus. ‘Not to belittle our Massiliote allies in any way.’

‘No insult taken, sir,’ said Clearchus, raising his hands.

‘Naturally, others wanted this job, but I felt that the task was suited to a veteran. A man who knows how to keep his cool. I thought of you.’ Publius fixed his eyes on Fabricius. ‘Well?’

Fabricius felt his breath quicken. Had Flaccus asked for the duty, and been turned down? That might explain his sour expression. ‘Of course I’ll do it, sir.’

Publius gave a small smile of approval. ‘Speed is of the essence. If you leave at once, you could be back by tomorrow night. The next day, at the latest. I will want good estimates of their numbers, and a breakdown of the troop types.’

Fabricius wasn’t going to back down from a challenge like this. ‘I will do my best, sir.’

‘How many men have you?’

‘About two hundred and fifty, sir.’

‘Take all of them. Clearchus will guide you.’ Publius looked at the Massiliote. ‘How strong is your force?’

‘Two hundred riders, sir, all experienced.’

‘It should be enough.’ Publius turned back to Fabricius. ‘You’re in charge. Avoid contact with the enemy unless it cannot be helped. Return quickly. I’ll have the army ready to march the moment you return.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Fabricius saluted crisply; Clearchus did the same.

They left the consul poring over his map.

Fabricius wasted no time. Less than an hour later, he led the ten turmae – cavalry units – under his command out of the camp and towards Massilia’s north gate. It was a pity that he hadn’t had time to replace his losses from the recent campaign, thought Fabricius. Still, he was reasonably happy with the rest of his cavalrymen, who had fought well during the summer. As citizen cavalry, his men were equestrians, and most dressed in a Hellenistic style similar to his own. They wore Boeotian helmets and bleached white tunics, which had a purple stripe running from each shoulder to the hem. Sturdy leather boots that completely enclosed the feet were ubiquitous. All carried thrusting spears, and round cavalry shields, made of ox hide. Few carried swords. The heavy cavalry cloak, or sagum, owned by each man and used in bad weather, was tied up in a roll behind the saddlecloth.

They met Clearchus and his riders just outside the city walls. The Massiliote cavalry were irregulars, and no two were dressed alike. With their helmets, spears and small shields, however, they were similar in appearance to the Roman cavalrymen. Fabricius was reassured by Clearchus’ calm manner, and the way his men responded to his orders. If it came to a fight, they’d probably do all right.

With the Massiliotes in the lead, they rode north, stopping only when it grew too dark to continue. Clearchus knew the countryside well, but, as he confided to Fabricius, it was possible that Carthaginian patrols could be operating in the area too. There was no point exposing themselves to unnecessary danger, and riding at night fell into that category. Fabricius did not argue. Clearchus’ judiciousness made perfect sense. Ordering no fires to be lit, he had the men set up camp. Double the normal number of sentries were stationed around the perimeter. Long after the soldiers had retired, Fabricius walked from picket to picket, his ears pricked. This was a mission of the utmost importance. If that meant hardly any sleep, then so be it. Nothing could go wrong. Thankfully, he heard nothing other than the occasional screech of an owl.