Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

Bostar’s laugh was a trifle hollow. If anyone had made such a statement a few weeks before, he wouldn’t have believed it. Looking at the harsh slopes above, he knew that his father might well be correct. Expecting more than fifty thousand men, thousands of pack animals and thirty-seven elephants to climb into the realm of gods and demons bordered on genius – or madness. Feeling disloyal for even thinking the latter, Bostar glanced around. He was surprised to see Sapho approaching. After the Rhodanus, the brothers had ostensibly patched up their relationship, but the reconciliation had been little more than a facade for their father’s benefit. The two avoided each other if at all possible. Bostar forced a smile. ‘Sapho.’ Try as he might, he could not help but feel hurt when his brother silently responded with a salute.

‘That’s not necessary, is it?’ Malchus’ tone was sharp.

‘Sorry,’ said Sapho offhandedly. ‘I’m still half asleep.’

‘Yes, it’s not exactly your time of day, is it?’ retorted Bostar acidly. ‘That would be more like midday.’

‘Enough!’ barked Malchus before Sapho could respond. ‘Why can’t you at least be civil to each other? There’s far more at stake here than your stupid feud.’

As always, their father’s outburst silenced the brothers. Unusually, it was Sapho who made the first effort. ‘What were you talking about?’ he asked.

His attempt made Bostar feel obliged to reply. ‘Those.’ He pointed at the mountains.

Sapho’s face soured. ‘Ill fortune awaits us up there. Countless men will be lost, I know it.’ He made the sign against evil.

‘We’ve had such good fortune since the Rhodanus, though,’ protested Bostar. ‘The Romans didn’t pursue us. Then the Cavares gave us gifts of food, shoes and warm clothing. Since we entered their territory, their warriors have kept the Allobroges at bay. Who’s to say that the gods won’t continue to smile on us?’

‘The year’s practically over. Winter will be here soon. It will be a superhuman task.’ An impossible task, thought Sapho dourly. Hell awaits us. He had never liked heights, and the prospect of ascending the Alps – especially in late autumn – filled him with a murmuring dread. Of course he could not admit to that, nor to his resentment of Hannibal for choosing such a difficult route, or for favouring Bostar above him. He jerked his head towards the south. ‘We should have travelled along the coast of Gaul.’

‘That would have meant a pitched battle with the forces our cavalry encountered near the Rhodanus, which was something Hannibal wanted to avoid.’ Despite his robust words, Bostar felt his spirits being dragged down. With the friendly Cavares returning to their homes, and nowhere to go other than up, there was no denying what they had let themselves in for. He was grateful when his father intervened.

‘I want to hear no more talk like that. It’s bad for morale,’ growled Malchus. He had similar concerns, but he wouldn’t admit them to anyone. ‘We must keep faith with Hannibal, as he does with us. His spirits were high last night, weren’t they?’ He glared at his sons.

‘Yes, Father,’ Sapho conceded.

‘He doesn’t have to wander around his men’s campfires for half the night, sharing their poxy rations and listening to their miserable life stories,’ Malchus continued sternly. ‘He doesn’t sleep alongside them, wrapped only in his cloak, for the good of his health! Hannibal does it because he loves his soldiers as if they were his children. The least we can do is to return that love with utmost fealty.’

‘Of course,’ Sapho muttered. ‘You know that my loyalty is beyond question.’

‘And mine,’ added Bostar fervently.

Malchus’ scowl eased. ‘I’m glad to hear it. I know that the next few weeks will be our toughest test yet, but it’s officers such as we who will have to give an example. To lead the men when they falter. We must show no weakness, just a steely resolve to reach the top of whichever pass Hannibal chooses. Don’t forget that from there, we will fall upon Cisalpine Gaul, and after it, Italy, like ravening wolves.’

Finally, the two brothers gave each other a pleased look. It lasted only an instant before they broke eye contact.

Malchus was already ten strides away. ‘Get a move on. Hannibal wants us all to see the sacrifice.’

The brothers followed.

The flat, well-watered land where the Carthaginians were camped had provided respite to man and beast before the rigours that were to come. It also offered, Bostar realised, a place where Hannibal could address his troops, as he had at New Carthage before they’d left. Even though his forces were now considerably smaller, there were still far too many soldiers to be able to witness personally their general make an offering to the gods. That was why the commanders of every unit in the army had been ordered to bring a score or more of their men to the ceremony.