Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

Taking a deep breath, Fabricius began the tale of his patrol. He did not look at Marcus or anyone else. Instead he kept his gaze fixed on the bronze doors at the far end of the room. It was a good tactic, and he warmed to his topic as he continued. Fabricius spared no detail of the Carthaginian encampment, and was particularly careful to stress the number of enemy cavalry, the River Rhodanus’ immense width and the Herculean effort of ferrying the elephants across it. Finishing, he looked to Publius. The consul gave an approving nod. Flaccus’ expression had soured. Had his prospective son-in-law thought that having to appear before the entire Senate would be too much for him? From the alarmed looks many senators were now giving each other, the opposite was true. Suddenly, Marcus seemed to be on the back foot.

Seizing the initiative, Publius moved to the front of the dais. ‘Fabricius estimated the Carthaginian host to be greater in size than two consular armies. I’m talking about fifty thousand men, of whom at least a quarter are cavalry. Numidians, who bested our troops in Sicily on countless occasions. Do not forget the elephants either. Our combat record against them is less than valiant. We also have to consider the leader of this army. Hannibal Barca, a man who has recently conquered half of Iberia and taken an impregnable city, Saguntum, by storm. A general who is unafraid of leading his soldiers across the Alps in late autumn.’ Publius nodded as many senators recoiled. ‘Many of you know the praetor Lucius Manlius Vulso, as I do. He is an honourable and able leader. But is he capable of beating a force twice the size of his, which also possesses superior numbers of horse, and elephants?’ He looked around. ‘Is he?’

A brief, disbelieving silence cloaked the room. Then, sheer pandemonium broke out. Hundreds of worried voices competed with each other, but no individual would listen to what another was saying. Marcus tried to calm those around him, but his efforts were in vain. Fabricius couldn’t believe it. Here were the men who ruled the Republic, squabbling and shouting like frightened children. He glanced at Publius, who was watching the spectacle, waiting for an opportunity to intervene. Impulsively, Fabricius pulled out his dagger and handed it over. ‘It’s yours, sir,’ he said passionately. ‘Like the sword of every citizen in Italy.’ Publius’ initial surprise was replaced by a wolfish smile. He accepted the blade before muttering an order to his lictores. The hammering of fasces on the floor drew everyone’s attention.

Publius raised the dagger high. ‘I have been handed this by Fabricius, who has broken the law by carrying it into the Curia. Yet he did it only because of his loyalty to the Republic. To show his willingness to shed his blood and, if necessary, to die in the struggle to overcome Hannibal. With determined soldiers like this, I promise you victory over the Carthaginian invaders! Victory!’

As a flock of birds seamlessly alters direction, the senators’ mood changed. Their panic vanished, to be replaced by a frenzy of excitement. Spontaneous cheering broke out, and the atmosphere lightened at once. Publius had won, thought Fabricius delightedly. Nobody but a fool would try and depose the consul now.

A moment later, Flaccus sidled over. ‘Happy?’ he hissed.

Fabricius had had enough. ‘What was I supposed to do? Lie about what I saw?’ he retorted. ‘Hannibal’s army is huge. It’s well armed, and led by a very determined man. We underestimate it at our peril.’

Flaccus’ expression grew softer. ‘Of course, you are right. You spoke well. Convincingly,’ he said. ‘And the danger must be addressed fast. Clearly, Publius is still the man to do it. The resolve he has shown here today is admirable.’

Looking at the displeasure twisting Marcus’ face, Fabricius had difficulty in believing Flaccus’ words. He shoved his disquiet away. Such things were no longer of importance.

All that mattered was defeating Hannibal.

Fabricius wasn’t surprised when Publius ordered him to proceed back to the city gate, there to ready his men. They would leave for Cisalpine Gaul within three hours. Flaccus would be with them too. Publius rolled his eyes as he said it. ‘Some things cannot be changed,’ he muttered. Fabricius was relieved to be given his orders. He had seen enough of politics for a lifetime, and was uncertain what to think of Flaccus and his brother. Maybe Atia had been right? he wondered. Deciding to inform her of what had transpired by writing a quick letter before they set off, Fabricius exited the bronze doors and headed across the Forum.

Chapter XVIII: Cisalpine Gaul