David Gibbins: Total War Rome: Destroy Carthage

‘There are horses from my cavalry without riders after the fighting,’ Hippolyta said. ‘I will find mounts for us.’

‘Go now,’ Scipio said. Fabius watched them rush down the steps, leaving only Polybius and Scipio by his side. He looked at the firestorm. Carthage would destroy itself, just as its leader had destroyed himself and his people. He turned to Polybius. ‘I remember what you once read to me from Homer’s Iliad, the words of the goddess Athena. The day shall come when sacred Troy will fall, and king and people shall perish all. ’

Polybius looked at the scene of devastation in front of them, and then at Scipio. ‘But the fall of Carthage owes nothing to the utterances of a god. It was a Roman feat of arms, and the feat of not just one Scipio, but two. Today, your grandfather can rest easy in Elysium. When I come to write my history of this war, people will forget about Achilles and Troy and will instead read about the two generals named Scipio Africanus, and the fall of Carthage.’

Scipio raised an eyebrow at his friend. ‘If I ever give you time to write it.’

‘The war is over, my friend.’

Scipio said nothing, but looked across the sea to the northeast. Fabius followed his gaze, trying to read his thoughts. This war is over. Some day soon, perhaps already, another city would fall, the final Greek stronghold of Corinth, and Metellus would stand on that acropolis too, scanning the devastation and feeling the same rush in his veins as he stared into the future.

Fabius remembered the words of the Sibyl, words that she had told him when he had seen her alone, words that he had never uttered to Scipio: she had told him that both Scipio and Metellus would stand over fallen cities, as Achilles had done at Troy. It was their destiny, and the destiny of Rome. But then Fabius remembered what else she had said, to him alone, when she had beckoned him back into the cave and touched him with her wizened finger, her breath caressing his ear like an exhalation from all of history.

He mouthed the words to himself now.

One of them will rule, and one will fall.

Polybius had been watching him, but they both looked down as Hippolyta came bounding back up the steps. Halfway to the top she stopped. ‘I have horses waiting below, Scipio,’ she shouted. ‘We must ride.’

She turned to go back down. Polybius gestured for Scipio to move, pointing to the fire rushing towards the temple platform from the north, and then began to clatter down the steps after Hippolyta. Fabius lingered for a moment with Scipio, staring one last time. He took a deep breath, tasting the dust from the desert again, the acrid reek of burning, the smell of blood.

He felt exhilarated.

Carthage was not the end. It was the beginning.

He knew what was to come.