David Durham - Pride of Carthage

Hannibal grasped the surgeon by the wrist in a parting gesture. Synhalus nodded and left the room without making eye contact with Mago. His assistant took the lamp with him and for a moment after their departure the room dropped into shadow.

Mago navigated through the stools and sat as instructed. He found it hard to look directly at his brother, for his eyes wanted only to stare at the wound. “I would take your place if I could,” he said. “I'd accept the foul weapon into my own flesh to see you whole again.”

The smile on the commander's face dropped away. Though the air in the tent was a comfortable temperature, beads of sweat dotted his nose and temples. These were the only indication of the pain his leg must have been causing him. He shifted position and said, “You would never have been as foolish as I. There are many reasons for me to risk my life for our goals; impatience isn't one of them. Are the men greatly disturbed?”

“None can remember seeing you injured,” Mago said. “It has been a shock. Rumors spread faster than fever in times like this.”

Hannibal shifted as if he were about to rise, but understanding his thoughts Mago stayed him with a hand. “We're dealing with it, brother. I made sure that the priest who sacrificed this morning found the signs positive. Also, I instructed the generals to speak not of your frailty but of your courage, to remind all men that you have as much to lose in this battle as they and yet you do not shrink from it. I tell them that, but be more careful in future, brother. It's not true that you have as much to lose as they; you have very much more.”

“Wise counsel,” Hannibal said. “Sometimes I think you are more like me than any of our father's children.”

“You speak too highly of me.”

Hannibal did not smile, but there was something ironic in his expression. “I don't think so. You are the most like what I would be if I could be other than I am. Hasdrubal takes joy from life in a light way that I never could. Hanno lives well, but carries a weight around his neck that hinders him. Some doubt was planted in him young, and he's never grown beyond it. You, Mago, have a balance that I envy. One day I will show you the depths of my admiration, but let us first take care of what we must. I called you here because again the Romans have sent envoys to chastise us. I've kept them waiting along the shore, stewing, I hope, and blistering under the sun. I might have received them previously, but not in this state. I am sure that in a day or two they'll sail from here directly to Carthage. But let us forewarn the Council. Better they hear from me first. You'll find writing materials there behind you.”

He waited as Mago got his supplies ready. He started to adjust his position, but his leg stopped him. He gave up on the effort. Instead he swiped at the flies that had settled on his bandage. They scattered, only to circle and return a moment later. When his brother looked up at him, he began.

“Transcribe my words exactly. Have you any question, stop me and ask it. We can have no errors in such a correspondence. Write this . . . Honored and venerated Council of Carthage, beloved of Baal, descendants of Elissa, Hannibal hails you. I write to you on a matter of grave importance, which I ask you to consider the very day you receive this. As you know, I serve you humbly in Iberia. I carry on the work of my father, Hamilcar, who through sheer force of will wrested Iberia from the waste of tribal bickering. He built of it a fine holding, rich in silver and timber and other resources. My father filled your coffers, aiding as no other could in the rebuilding of Carthage's depleted fortunes. He died in these efforts, sacrificing even his life to the country he loved.”

Hannibal paused to allow Mago to catch up. He was surprised to find that his brother stopped writing only a moment later. “So fast as that? They have taught you well. Perhaps I need not have sent for that Greek to keep a record of events for me.” He proceeded, speaking a little more rapidly.

“In the time after my father's death, my brother-in-law, Hasdrubal the Handsome, ably managed Iberia. On his death I took his burdens upon myself, not solely of my own wish but at the request of all who cared for Carthage's glory. Since then I've all but completed the conquest of Iberia. I did not call on Carthage for resources then, but at my own expense gained domination over the tribes of the Tagus, and captured Salmantica and Arbocala. Carthage favors generals who win and generals who enrich the city of their birth. This being so, you can have no complaint about Hannibal or the legacy of the Barcas.

“I remind you of all this so that it will be fresh in your mind when you receive the embassy of the Romans. They will come to you condemning me, spinning truths into lies and lies into truths, as is their way. You know the mission that I am on, so remember two things, that Saguntum is south of the Ebro, and that we've no obligation to honor Roman commands concerning a city within our realm of influence. I believe that my actions in taking Saguntum do not violate existing agreements. Even if they did, you have the authority to reject those agreements, as they did not come directly from yourselves. What I ask of you is simple. Send those Romans home like the disobedient dogs they are. I will complete this business soon, and I assure you Carthage will benefit handsomely from it. And know also that, should Rome challenge us with force, Carthage can count on Hannibal and his army to meet any threat before it reaches African soil.”

Hannibal motioned for his brother to hold the scroll up for him to see. “You have a fine hand,” he said, his tone conversational. “They are indeed precious, these Romans. They call me barbaric, when they are the masters of treachery and the breakers of treaties. They present themselves here like children shocked at the harsh world all around them. But even these Saguntines shall one day attest that Hannibal is both just and strong.”

“Shall they?” Mago asked. “That would surprise me. I mean, that they would admit as much.”

“They cannot say I failed to offer them a choice. Think of it like this: When you come upon a great tree that blocks your path, do you stand against it and challenge it to battle? When you are out walking in the night and hear behind you the growls of a lion, do you turn and fight it lest it inconvenience you? No. You walk around the tree. You quicken your pace away from the lion and find shelter. I present the Saguntines with a force beyond their capacity to defeat. They must adapt to it. If they had the wisdom to acknowledge this, we would not be fighting now. When they rejected me, they asked for my wrath instead of my friendship. So their fate has been decided by their own actions. This is no perversity of my own. The world is cruel. One must take on a portion of that cruelty to live in it. That is all I've done.”

Hannibal paused and tilted his head to listen to some shouts outside, and then continued. “But, some might ask, Is Hannibal propelled by the breeze or does he shape the breeze? To which I admit that the behavior of the Saguntines suits me perfectly. I knew how they would react, and how Rome will react. Though I might have thought we would capture them sooner, I am glad this is proving a challenge for my men.”

Mago nodded, though he found himself resisting Hannibal's logic. Questions popped to mind fully formed; facts occurred to him that he might have pointed out to undermine the general's assertions. It could not be denied that the Saguntines were fighting bravely for their very lives, to protect their women and keep their children from being sold into slavery. At night, when he heard them calling out curses from the walls, he could hear the brave desperation in the voices. The poet in him was struck by this. Perhaps it was the Iliad haunting him once more, recalling the fate of Priam and his Troy. He had always been disappointed by that aspect of the great tales. All that heroic grandeur resulted in rape and pillage and the utter destruction of a people. But Mago had never voiced such thoughts to anyone and he held his peace.