Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

‘Tie the shitbags in a line. Next, get one of the elephants. Use it to shift a large rock. A rock so big that no men could ever move it.’

A slow smile spread across the officer’s face. ‘To dash out their brains, sir?’

‘No,’ reproached Sapho. ‘We’re not going to kill them, remember? I want the boulders dropped on their legs.’

‘And then, sir?’

Sapho shrugged cruelly. ‘We’ll just leave them there.’

The officer grinned. ‘It’ll be dark before their scumbag companions can return. They’ll be begging for death by that stage, sir.’

‘Precisely. They might think before attacking us a second time.’ Sapho clapped his hands. ‘See to it!’

He watched as the Vocontii prisoners were forced to lie down by a rocky outcrop. Sapho intervened to make sure that the wall-eyed warrior was last in the line. There was a short delay as an elephant was brought up from its position with the baggage train. Sapho waited with the interpreter by the first of the warriors, whose eyes were now bulging with fear.

Sapho looked up at the mahout. ‘Can you shift that boulder there?’ He pointed.

‘Yes, sir. Where?’

‘On to these men’s legs. But they mustn’t be killed.’

The mahout’s eyes widened. ‘I think so, sir.’

‘Get on with it, then.’

‘Sir.’ Leaning forward, the mahout whispered in his huge mount’s ear before tapping it behind the ear with his hooked staff. The elephant lumbered up to the stone that Sapho had indicated, and gripped the top of it with its trunk. There was a moment’s silence before the slab began to move out of its resting place. The mahout muttered another command, and the elephant stepped up to rest the front of its head against the boulder, preventing it from picking up speed. Slowly, the beast reversed towards the prisoners, controlling its load’s progress down the slight slope. Realising at last what was about to happen, the Vocontii warriors began to wail in fear.

Sapho laughed. He scanned the heights above, and fancied he saw movement. ‘Yes, you fuckers,’ he screamed. ‘Look! We’re about to give your friends a dose of their own medicine.’

Several steps from the captives, the mahout made the elephant pause. He looked at Sapho questioningly.

‘Do it.’

A murmured word in its ear, and the elephant moved aside, letting the stone roll on to the first three warrior’s legs. Strangled screams shredded the air. The sound was met by an immense cheer from the hundreds of watching Carthaginian soldiers. This, in their eyes, was vengeance for their dead comrades. Meanwhile, the tribesmen’s companions struggled uselessly against their bonds, which had been pegged to the ground.

‘Tell them that this is Hannibal’s retribution for double-crossing us,’ Sapho thundered.

Pale-faced, the interpreter did as he was told. His words were met by a gabble of terrified voices. ‘Some are saying that they didn’t know that we would be attacked,’ he muttered.

‘Ha! They’re liars, or fools, or both.’

‘They’re asking just to be killed.’

‘Absolutely not.’ Sapho waved a hand at the mahout. ‘Do it again. Don’t stop.’

Rock after rock was lowered into place, smashing the legs of all but the last Vocontii warrior. When the elephant had manoeuvred the final piece of stone into place, Sapho ordered the mahout to wait. Clicking his fingers to make sure that the interpreter followed him, he made his way to where the wall-eyed warrior lay. Purple-faced with rage, the tribesman spat a string of obscenities.

‘Don’t bother,’ said Sapho with a sneer as the interpreter began to speak. ‘I know what he’s saying. Tell him that this is repayment for his deceit, and that a coward like him will never reach the warriors’ paradise. Instead, his soul will rot for all eternity in hell.’ He eyed the mahout. ‘When he’s finished, let the stone fall.’

The elephant driver nodded.

‘What in the name of all the gods is going on?’ Somehow Bostar’s voice penetrated the cacophony of screams echoing throughout the narrow gorge.

The interpreter stopped speaking. The mahout sat motionless atop his beast. Stiff-backed with fury, Sapho turned to find his brother regarding him with an outraged expression. He inclined his head mockingly. ‘I’m punishing these worthless whoresons. What does it look like?’

Bostar’s face twisted. ‘Could you think of a crueller way to kill them?’

‘Several ways, actually,’ Sapho replied amiably. ‘They all took too long, though. This method might be crude, but it’s effective. It will also send a strong message to the rest of their pox-ridden, louse-infested tribe that to fuck with us carries a heavy price.’

‘You’ve already made your point!’ Bostar indicated the line of screaming men. ‘Why not just stab this man in the throat and have done?’

‘Because this one’ – and Sapho kicked the wall-eyed warrior in the head – ‘is their leader. I’ve saved him until last, so he could watch his comrades suffer, and anticipate his own fate.’

Bostar recoiled. ‘You’re sick,’ he spat. ‘I command you to halt this outrage.’