John Stack: Captain of Rome

Hamilcar strode forward, people scattering before him as they saw his drawn blade. One of Hanno’s men spotted Hamilcar and pointed, his call alerting the others and Hanno turned to stare at Hamilcar. He walked out from behind his men and approached Hamilcar alone.

‘Put down your sword, you fool,’ he hissed and Hamilcar hesitated. ‘I need to talk to you.’

Hamilcar looked warily beyond the councillor to the squad of soldiers, each man unmoved. He sheathed his sword.

‘Follow me,’ Hanno said and walked back towards the Baal Hammon, Hamilcar falling in behind him, his mind racing but unable to comprehend Hanno’s actions in the short time it took to reach the quinquereme.

Hanno walked to the aft-deck and ordered it cleared, leaving the two men standing alone.

‘How many did you lose?’ Hanno asked, his head bowed, his voice an angry growl.

‘Thirty-eight,’ Hamilcar said.

‘Fifty-six,’ Hanno replied and walked away two steps.

‘Mot protect them,’ Hamilcar whispered, ‘over ninety galleys. Lost.’ He lapsed into silence.

‘This is your fault!’ Hamilcar suddenly spat, anger coursing through him. Hanno spun around.

‘Listen to me, Barca, and understand this,’ he said, stepping forward once more until he stood inches from Hamilcar. ‘Either we stand together or this defeat destroys us both.’

‘If you had followed my strategy…’ Hamilcar began.

‘No one knows of your strategy except me,’ Hanno spat back, cutting Hamilcar short, ‘and I will deny everything.’

‘Even before the supreme council?’ Hamilcar asked, staggered by Hanno’s audacity.

Hanno smiled; a joyless grin that spoke of his confidence.

‘I will deny it, Barca,’ he said, ‘and my counter-accusations will sully us both.’

Hamilcar stepped back, his previous conviction in tatters. He could see Hanno’s reasoning. It was one man’s word against the other’s and the infighting would destroy them both. Only a united front could save them, an equal share of the blame quickly forgiven by both factions of the supreme council with the threat of Roman invasion looming on the horizon.

Hamilcar turned away from the councillor and walked to the side-rail, a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. He looked upward to the Bysra citadel high above the city, studying its towering height and he felt the wellspring of might that was Carthage surge through him, his heart taking strength from the ancients who built the formidable fortress, the founders of Carthage who sailed from the shores of Tyre so many generations before.

Hamilcar had failed to stop the Romans at Ecnomus, defeated by fate and the fallibility of lesser men. Now the battle-lines would be drawn on the very shoreline of Carthage, a boundary that no enemy had crossed in over a millennium and Hamilcar vowed, from the very depths of his soul, that the unconquered city of the Punici would not fall.

Atticus rubbed his hand along the side-rail, his fingertips examining the fine grain of the hardwood made even by the plane of a carpenter only months before, the craftsmanship as yet untouched by the harsh elements of the sea.

‘Answering standard speed, Prefect.’

Atticus turned and nodded to Gaius, looking to the fifty galleys of his command that sailed in formation behind the Orcus as he walked over to the helmsman.

‘Steady as she goes, Gaius,’ he said, the helmsman nodding, his gaze ever-sweeping across the sea ahead, observing the position of the other squadrons of the Classis Romanus and the transport ships that sailed in their care.

Atticus looked out over the deck of the quinquereme; the legionaries formed in ranks on the main, the corvus standing ready on the fore, Corin aloft at the masthead and for a moment Atticus could almost imagine the galley to be the Aquila, his eyes looking unconsciously to the main, expecting to see Lucius walking amongst the crew, shouting orders that carried to every corner of the ship. He shook the thought aside, forcing his mind to slip back into the rhythm of command and he scanned the galley with a critical eye, checking the line of her course, the tautness of the running rigging, the rise and fall of her two hundred and forty oars. Atticus nodded slowly to himself. The Orcus was a good ship.

‘Legionaries are all present and correct, Prefect,’ Septimus said as he approached the helm and Atticus smiled. His new position outranked Septimus but he was sure the centurion was only using the title to taunt him, perhaps knowing that Atticus had no intention of telling his friend how to command his own men.

‘Very well, Centurion,’ Atticus replied facetiously. ‘Stand by the helm.’

Septimus nodded and stood beside Atticus, both men facing out to the sea ahead, the two of them lapsing into silence.

Atticus looked to the transport ships ahead, almost sensing the pent-up anticipation of the men sailing in them, the legionaries of the Sixth and Ninth. He glanced at Septimus, wondering if his friend knew that Atticus had found out that at Septimus’s meeting with the legate of the Ninth he had turned down an offer to command a maniple of that legion, requesting instead to remain with the former crew of the Aquila. It was a decision Septimus had yet to disclose openly and Atticus was now beginning to believe that he never would, the motives of his decision remaining a secret.

‘What do you think?’ Atticus asked as he noticed Septimus was looking directly at the transports.

‘About the invasion?’ Septimus asked. He paused for a second. ‘I think we’re facing the fight of our lives.’

Atticus nodded and looked to the sea ahead, filled with the ships of Rome; the Classis Romanus and twenty thousand men of the legions, the unfettered might of the Republic. Beyond the horizon lay the brooding shore of Africa, stronghold of the Punici, their ancient homeland and Atticus realised that Septimus was right. The Carthaginians had been beaten but they were far from conquered and the ferocity they applied in Sicily was but a shadow of the viciousness they would wield with their backs to the walls of Carthage.

The Battle of Cape Ecnomus took place in 256 BC off the south coast of Sicily when a Carthaginian fleet engaged a Roman fleet poised to sail south to invade North Africa. The number of ships and men involved are truly staggering, with Polybius stating that 35 °Carthaginian ships faced 330 Roman, with upwards of 250,000 men engaged in battle. Modern scholars have challenged these figures but nevertheless their estimates have only reduced the size of each fleet by about 100 ships which still allows for Ecnomus to be ranked as one of the largest naval battles in history.

The Roman fleet was commanded by Marcius Atilius Regulus and Lucius Manlius Vulso (Longus) while the Carthaginians were commanded by Hanno (who actually led one of the flanks) and a commander named Hamilcar. (Not Hamilcar Barca as I have written. Again Barca has been brought into the conflict earlier than recorded for narrative purposes.)

The deployments of the two fleets are similar to those described, with the Romans sailing in a triangular formation and the two consuls sailing at the apex of a spearhead while the transport ships were towed in line abreast at the rear. The Carthaginians sailed in line abreast formation with the flanks (particularly the landward) advanced, their simple plan being to draw in and then engage the Roman spearhead in the centre while flanking the main force to attack the more vulnerable transport ships.

Initially the Carthaginian plan worked, with their centre withdrawing in the face of the Roman spearhead until a significant gap had opened between it and the Roman transport ships. They then re-engaged, holding down the Roman centre while their flanks attacked. The Roman galleys towing the transport ships (primarily carrying horses) cut their tethers and engaged the flanks, the battle in essence breaking into separate actions.