Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

At the sound of Hannibal’s voice, Bostar turned. He scarcely recognised the shambling figure before him, clad in a ragged military cloak. Dank tresses of brown hair fell from under a simple bronze helmet, framing a gaunt face streaked with filth. The man sported a padded linen cuirass, which had clearly seen better days, a thrusting spear and an old, battered shield. He was the worst dressed Libyan spearman Bostar had ever seen, and he stank to high heaven. Bostar glanced at the other officers, who appeared as stunned as he. ‘Is that you, sir?’

The belly laugh was definitely Hannibal’s. ‘It is. Don’t look at me as if I am mad.’

Bostar flushed. ‘Sorry, sir. May I ask why are you dressed like that?’

‘Two reasons. Firstly, as an ordinary soldier, I’m far less of a target to the enemy. Secondly, being anonymous allows me to mix with the troops and assess their mood. I’ve been doing that since we came down out of the mountains,’ Hannibal revealed. He turned to include all those present. ‘What do you think I’ve heard?’

Most of the officers, Bostar included, took a sudden interest in their fingernails, or a strap on their harness that needed tightening. Even Malchus cleared his throat awkwardly.

‘Come now,’ said Hannibal in a bluff tone. ‘Did you really think that I wouldn’t find out how low morale really is? Spirits are high amongst the cavalry, but that’s because I looked after them so well in the mountains. Far fewer of them died. But they’re unusual. Many of the men think we’ll be annihilated the first time we encounter the Romans, don’t they?’

‘They’ll fight anyway, sir!’ Malchus cried. ‘They love you as no other.’

Hannibal’s smile was warm. ‘Worthy Malchus, I can always rely on you and your sons. I know that your soldiers will stay true, and so will the bulk of the army. But we require an immediate victory to raise the men’s spirits. More importantly, we need food to put in their bellies. Our intelligence tells me that the stores behind those walls’ – he indicated the fortress – ‘are full of grain. I would have bought it from the Taurini, but they rejected my overtures out of hand. Now they will learn the price of their foolishness.’

‘What shall we do, sir?’ Sapho asked eagerly.

‘Take the place by storm.’

‘Prisoners?’

‘Leave none alive. Not a man, woman or child.’

Sapho’s eyes lit up. ‘Yes, sir!’

His words were echoed by a rumble of agreement from the others.

Hannibal stared at Bostar. ‘What is it? Are you unhappy with my command?’

‘Must everyone die, sir?’ Terrible images from the fall of Saguntum filled Bostar’s mind.

Hannibal scowled. ‘Unfortunately, yes. Know that I order this for a particular reason. We are in a very fragile position. If a Roman army presented itself tomorrow, we would indeed struggle to defeat it. When they hear of our weakness, the Boii and Insubres will think twice before giving us the aid that they so eagerly promised last year. If that happens, we will have failed in our task before it has even begun. Is that what you want?’

‘Of course not, sir,’ Bostar replied indignantly.

‘Good,’ said Hannibal with a pleased look. ‘Slaughtering the inhabitants of Taurasia will send a clear message to the area’s tribes. We are still a lethal fighting force, and they either stand with us, or against us. There is no ground in between.’

Humbled, Bostar glanced down. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t understand.’

‘Some of the others probably didn’t either,’ answered Hannibal, ‘but they didn’t have the courage to ask.’

‘I understood, sir,’ Sapho snarled.

‘Which is the reason you’re standing here today,’ said Hannibal grimly. ‘Monomachus too.’ He nodded at a squat man with a bald head. ‘The rest of you are present because I know that, as my finest officers, you will do exactly what I have ordered.’ He pointed his spear at the fortress walls. ‘I want the place reduced by nightfall. After that, your men can have the rest they so well deserve.’

Bostar joined in the cheering with more enthusiasm this time. He caught a sneering Sapho trying to catch his eye, and ignored him. He would follow Hannibal’s orders, but for a very different reason to his brother. Loyalty, rather than sheer bloodthirstiness.

Despite Quintus’ generosity in accompanying him north, Hanno found the journey grating. He still had to act like a slave. Quintus rode a horse, while he had to sit astride a cantankerous mule. He could not eat with Quintus, or share the same room. Instead, he had to take his meals with the domestic slaves and servants of the roadside inns they frequented, and to bed down in the stables with the animals. Oddly, Hanno’s physical separation from Quintus began to restore the invisible differences between them.