Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

Fabricius felt uneasy. One moment Flaccus was talking as if those in Rome always acted unselfishly, and the next he was implying that Publius’ recall was a political tactic made with scant consideration of the danger posed by Hannibal. There was far more going on here than met the eye. In Fabricius’ mind, the sole issue at hand was Hannibal, and how to deal with him. Those who sat in the Senate obviously did not appreciate that. Yet did it really matter, he wondered, if they went to Rome before Cisalpine Gaul? If Hannibal did succeed in crossing the Alps, his army would need a prolonged period of rest to recover from their ordeal. Forewarned, Vulso would be ready, and Publius would not take long to travel from the capital. ‘We are agreed,’ he said, accepting Flaccus’ grip.

‘Excellent.’ Flaccus’ eyes glittered with satisfaction. ‘By the way, don’t take anything my brother says to heart. He is greatly looking forward to meeting you in private.’

Feeling rather out of his depth, Fabricius nodded.

Hannibal’s army reached the top of the pass the next day. Thrillingly, the watery sunshine revealed flat plains far below. The distant image could have been a mirage for all the use it was to them, thought Bostar bitterly. The slopes that led down towards Cisalpine Gaul were covered in frozen snow, which entirely concealed the path. Achieving a secure footing from now on would be more difficult than ever, and the price of failure was no less lethal than it had been since they’d entered the mountains.

To relieve his troops’ suffering, Hannibal let them rest for two days at the summit. Of course there was more to his decision than simple kindness. Hundreds of stragglers, soldiers who would have died otherwise, managed to catch up with their comrades in this time, where they were greeted with relief but little sympathy. Even if they’d wanted to speak of their ordeal, few would have found an audience. Despair clawed constantly at men’s hearts, rendering them insensible to the suffering of others.

Remarkably, hundreds of mules that had gone missing during the ascent also made their way into the camp. Although the majority had lost their baggage, they were still a welcome sight. In an effort to raise morale, Hannibal allowed the weakest beasts, numbering two hundred or more, to be slaughtered on the last evening before the descent. The fires needed to cook this meal consumed most of the army’s remaining wood, but for the first time in weeks, his soldiers went to sleep with fresh meat in their bellies.

Bostar’s deeply held hope that Hanno was still alive, and the presence of his father, were what sustained him through the agonies of the following day and night. He tried not to think of Sapho at all, instead concentrating on helping his soldiers. If Bostar had thought that the journey through the mountains up to that point had been difficult, then the descent was twice as bad. After more than a week above the snow line, the troops were chilled to the bone. Despite the Cavares’ gifts of clothing and footwear, many were still not suitably attired for the freezing, hazardous conditions. Slowed by the cold, the Carthaginians stumbled over the slightest obstacles, walked into snowdrifts and collided with each other. This, when a simple trip meant death, instantly from the fall, or by slipping away into a sleep from which there was no wakening.

The soldiers died in other ways as well. Sections of the path cracked away under the weight of snow and men, sending hundreds into oblivion, and forcing those behind to repair the track in order to continue. The unfortunate mules were now prone to panic at the slightest thing, and their struggles were the cause of more casualties. Bostar found that the only way not to go mad in the face of so much death and destruction was to act as if nothing had happened. To keep putting one foot in front of the other. Step by grim step, he plodded on.

Just when he thought that things could get no worse, they did. Late the next morning, the vanguard arrived at a point where a landslide had carried away the track for a distance of one and a half stades. Sapho sent word back that neither man nor beast could proceed without losing their life. Here the drop was at least five hundred paces. Undeterred, Hannibal ordered his Numidians to begin constructing a new path across the obstacle. The rest of the army was ordered to rest as best it could. The news made many soldiers break down and weep. ‘Will our suffering never end?’ wailed one of Bostar’s men. Bostar was quick to issue a reprimand. Morale was painfully low, without being made worse by open despair.