Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

In quick succession, Quintus fought two more Numidians, stabbing one in the arm and plunging his weapon into the other’s chest. Next he went to the aid of a Roman cavalryman who was being attacked by three enemy riders. They fought desperately for what seemed an age, barely able to defend themselves against the Numidians’ lightning-quick javelin thrusts. And then, like wraiths, the warriors were gone, galloping off into the distance. All across the battlefield, Quintus could see their companions doing the same. It was done with the ease of a shoal of fish changing direction. Unexpectedly, though, the Numidians reined in several hundred paces away. They began shouting insults at the Romans, who responded loudly and in kind.

‘Mangy bastards!’ shouted Cincius.

‘Come back, you goat-fuckers!’ roared Calatinus.

Quintus grinned. ‘We’ve driven them a good distance from the camp already.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Calatinus, whose face was drenched in sweat. ‘Time for a rest. I’m bloody exhausted.’

‘And me,’ added Cincius.

Fabricius and his fellow officers let the Roman cavalry catch their breath for a few moments. Clouds of condensation hung above the mass of horsemen, but were soon dispersed by the heavy sleet that began to fall.

‘Time to move before you all freeze to death,’ bellowed Fabricius.

Quintus glanced at Calatinus and Cincius. ‘Ready for another bout?’

‘Definitely,’ they snarled in unison.

Right on cue, Fabricius’ voice bellowed the command. ‘Hold the line! Advance!’ The call was repeated by all along the front rank. The Roman horsemen needed little encouragement, and urged their mounts forward. Once again, the ground shook as thousands of horses pounded across the soft ground. This time, the Numidians fought for only a short time before retreating. Yet the tribesmen did not go far. Instead, they turned to fight again. Without pause, the Roman cavalrymen charged at their enemies. Keeping up the momentum of an attack was vital.

Their confidence was boosted by the sight, to their rear, of six thousand velites pouring to their aid. The fact that they were on foot did not take away from the skirmishers’ value. They would first consolidate and hold the area that had been taken back from the Numidians. If the enemy horsemen decided to stand their ground, the velites could support their comrades and tilt the balance in their favour. If, on the other hand, the Roman cavalrymen were driven back, then the velites would provide a protective screen for them to fall back through. It was a win-win situation, thought Quintus jubilantly.

At daybreak, the horns that normally signalled the Carthaginian troops to get up remained silent. Used to army routine, most men were already awake. Hanno smiled as he listened to the rumours filling the tents around him. The rank-and-file troops had no idea yet why they had not been ordered from their beds. The majority were happy not to enquire, but some of the more eager ones poked their heads outside. Their officers told them that nothing was wrong. Not wanting to pass up such a rare opportunity, the soldiers duly returned to the comfort of their blankets. For half an hour, an unusual calm fell over the encampment. To the Carthaginians, it was a small dose of heaven. Despite the inclement weather, they were dry, warm and safe.

Finally, the horns did sound. There was no alarm, just the normal notes that indicated it was time to rise. Hanno began moving from tent to tent, encouraging his men.

‘What’s going on, sir?’ asked a short spearman with a bushy black beard.

Hanno grinned. ‘You want to know?’

‘Yes, sir,’ came the eager reply.

Hanno was fully aware that every soldier within earshot was listening. ‘The Numidians are attacking the Roman camp even as we speak.’

A rousing cheer went up, and Hanno raised his hands. ‘Even if the whoresons take the bait and follow our cavalry, it will take them an age to cross the Trebia. You have plenty of time to get ready.’

Pleased mutters met this comment.

‘I want you to prepare yourselves well. Stretch and oil your muscles. Check all your equipment. When you’re ready, lay your arms aside and prepare a hot breakfast. Clear?’

‘Yes, sir,’ his men shouted.

Hanno retired to his own tent in search of food. When that was done, he lay down on his bed and instantly fell asleep. For the first time since leaving Carthage, Hanno dreamed of his mother, Arishat. She did not seem concerned that Malchus and her three sons were in Hannibal’s army. Hanno found this immensely reassuring. His mother’s spirit was watching over them all.

Soon after, he was roused by the horns sounding the call that meant ‘Enemy in sight’.

Hanno sat bolt upright in bed, his heart racing. The Romans had followed the Numidians! He and every man in the army were about to be given their first chance to punish Rome for what it had done to his people.

They would grasp it with both hands.