Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

Chapter XXI: Hannibal’s Plan

One morning, not long after the Carthaginians had driven the Romans back over the Trebia, Malchus was ordered to Hannibal’s tent. While this happened regularly, he always felt a tremor of excitement when the summons arrived. After so many years of waiting for revenge on Rome, Malchus still thrilled to be in the presence of the man who had finally begun the war.

He found Hannibal in pensive mood. The general barely glanced up as Malchus entered. As ever, he was leaning over his campaign table, studying a map of the area. Maharbal, his cavalry commander, stood beside him, talking in a low voice. A thin man with long, curly black hair and an easy grin, Maharbal was popular with officers and ordinary troops alike.

Malchus came to a halt several steps from the table. He stiffened to attention. ‘Reporting for duty, sir.’

Hannibal straightened. ‘Malchus, welcome.’

‘You asked to see me, sir?’

‘I did.’ Still deep in thought, Hannibal rubbed a finger across his lips. ‘I have a question to ask you.’

‘Anything, sir.’

‘Maharbal and I have come up with a plan. An ambush, to be precise.’

‘Sounds interesting, sir,’ said Malchus eagerly.

‘We’re hoping that the Romans might send a patrol across the river,’ Hannibal went on. ‘Maharbal here will organise the cavalry that will fall upon the enemy, but I want some infantry there too. They will lie in wait at the main ford, and prevent any stragglers from escaping.’

Malchus grinned fiercely. ‘I’d be honoured to take part, sir.’

‘I didn’t have you in mind.’ Seeing Malchus’ face fall, Hannibal explained, ‘I’m not losing one of my most experienced officers in a skirmish. I was thinking of your sons, Bostar and Sapho.’

Malchus swallowed his disappointment. ‘They’d be well suited to a job like this, sir, and I’m sure delighted to be picked for it.’

‘I thought so.’ Hannibal paused for a moment. ‘And so to my question. What about your other son?’

Malchus blinked in surprise. ‘Hanno?’

‘Is he battle-ready yet?’

‘I put him into training straight after he returned, sir. Not being in Carthage, it was a little improvised, but he performed well.’ Malchus hesitated. ‘I’d say that he’s ready to be commissioned as an officer.’

‘Good, good. Could he lead a phalanx?’

Malchus gaped. ‘Are you serious, sir?’

‘I’m not in the habit of making jokes, Malchus. The crossing of the mountains left many units without officers to command them.’

‘Of course, sir, of course.’ Malchus gathered his thoughts. ‘Before Hanno was lost at sea, I would have had grave reservations.’

‘Why?’ Hannibal’s gaze was as fierce as a hawk’s.

‘He was a bit of a wastrel, sir. Only interested in fishing and girls.’

‘That’s hardly a crime, is it?’ Hannibal chuckled. ‘I thought he was too young to serve in the army back then?’

‘He was, sir,’ Malchus admitted. ‘And, to be fair, he was excellent when it came to lessons in military tactics. He was skilled at hunting too.’

‘Good qualities. So, has your opinion changed since his return?’

‘It has, sir,’ Malchus replied confidently. ‘He’s changed. The things he experienced and had to live through would have broken many boys, but it didn’t Hanno. He is a man now.’

‘You’re sure?’

Malchus met his general’s gaze squarely. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Fine. I want you and your three sons back here in an hour. That’ll be all.’ Hannibal turned back to Maharbal.

‘Thank you, sir.’ Grinning with excitement, Malchus saluted and withdrew.

Confusion filled Hanno when his father told him the news.

‘What does he want with a junior officer like me?’

‘I couldn’t say,’ Malchus replied neutrally.

Hanno’s stomach twisted into a knot. ‘Are Sapho and Bostar also to be present?’

‘They are.’

That did little to reassure Hanno. Had he done something wrong?

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Malchus. ‘Make sure you’re there in half an hour.’

‘Yes, Father.’ With a racing mind, Hanno set to polishing his new helmet and breastplate. He didn’t stop until his arms burned. Then he rubbed his leather sandals with grease until they glistened. When he was done, Hanno hurried to his father’s tent where there was a large bronze mirror. To his relief, Malchus wasn’t there. He scowled at his reflection. ‘It’ll have to do,’ he muttered.

As he walked to Hannibal’s headquarters, Hanno was grateful that none of the soldiers hurrying to and fro gave him a second look. It wasn’t until he reached the scutarii who stood guard outside the large pavilion that he became the focus of attention.

‘State your name, rank and business!’ barked the officer in charge of the sentries.

‘Hanno, junior officer of a Libyan phalanx, sir. I’m here to see the general.’ Hanno blinked, half expecting to be told to get lost.

Instead, the officer nodded. ‘You’re expected. Follow me.’

A moment later, Hanno found himself in a large, sparsely furnished chamber. Apart from a desk and a few hide-backed chairs, it held only a weapons rack. Hannibal was there, surrounded by a circle of his commanders. Among them were his father and brothers.

‘Sir! Announcing Hanno, junior officer of the Libyan spearmen!’ the officer bellowed.

Hanno flushed to the roots of his hair.

Turning, Hannibal smiled. ‘Welcome.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘You all know about Malchus’ prodigal son?’ asked Hannibal. ‘Well, here he is.’

Hanno’s embarrassment grew even greater as the senior officers studied him. He could see Bostar grinning. Even his father had the trace of a smile on his lips. Sapho, on the other hand, looked as if he’d swallowed a wasp. Hanno felt a surge of annoyance. Why is he like that?

Hannibal looked at each of the brothers in turn. ‘You’re probably wondering why I summoned you this morning?’

‘Yes, sir,’ they answered.

‘I’ll come to my reason in a moment.’ Hannibal looked at Hanno. ‘You’ve heard no doubt of our severe casualties, suffered during the crossing of the Alps?’

‘Of course, sir.’

‘Since then, we’ve been short of not just men, but officers.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Hanno replied. What was Hannibal getting at? Hanno wondered.

The general smiled at his confusion. ‘I’m appointing you to the command of a phalanx,’ he said.

‘Sir?’ Hanno managed.

‘You heard me,’ replied Hannibal. ‘It’s a huge leap, I know, but your father assures me that you’ve returned a man.’

‘I…’ Hanno’s gaze flickered to Malchus and back to Hannibal. ‘Thank you, sir.’

‘As you know, a phalanx should number four hundred men or so, but yours now barely musters two hundred. It’s one of the weakest units, but the men are veterans, and they should serve you well. And, after your extraordinary ordeals, I have high expectations of you.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Hanno, acutely aware of the huge responsibility he’d just been handed. ‘I am deeply honoured.’ Bostar winked at him, but he was irritated to see that Sapho’s lips were pursed.

‘Good!’ Hannibal declared. ‘Now for the reason I called you all here today. As you probably know, there’s been no action since we sent the Romans packing over the Trebia. Nor is there much chance of any in the near future. They know that our cavalry greatly outnumbers theirs, as does our infantry. From our point of view, it would be pointless to attack their camp. It’s on such uneven ground that the advantage our horsemen grant us would be negated. The Romans know that too, so the mongrel bastards are happy just to block the road south and wait for reinforcements. We may have to wait until those forces arrive, but I’m not happy to sit about doing nothing.’ Hannibal turned. ‘Maharbal?’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said the cavalry commander. ‘To try and encourage the enemy to send some men over the river, we’ve been giving the impression that our riders have become quite lax. Do you want to know how?’ he asked.

‘Yes, sir,’ the three brothers replied eagerly.

‘We never appear on our side of the Trebia until late in the morning, and we always leave well before dark. Understand?’

‘You want them to try a dawn patrol, sir?’ asked Bostar.

Maharbal smiled. ‘Exactly.’

Hanno felt his excitement grow. He didn’t feel confident enough to ask a question, however.

Sapho did it for him. ‘What else, sir?’

Hannibal took over once more. ‘Maharbal has five hundred Numidians permanently stationed in the woods about a mile from the main ford over the river. If the Romans take the bait, and send out a patrol, they’ll have to ride past our men. Not many of the dogs will escape when the Numidians fall on them from behind, but some might. Which is where you and your Libyans will come in.’

Hanno shot a glance at Bostar and Sapho, who were grinning fiercely.

‘I want a strong force of infantry to remain hidden near the crossing point. If any Romans do cross, they’re not to be hindered, but when they return…’ Hannibal clenched a fist. ‘I want them annihilated. Is that clear?’

Hanno glanced at his brothers, who gave him emphatic nods. ‘Yes, sir!’ they cried in unison.

‘Excellent,’ declared Hannibal. His gaze hardened. ‘Do not fail me.’

Shortly after darkness had fallen the following evening, Hanno and his brothers led their units out of the Carthaginian camp. As well as their tents and sleeping rolls, the men carried enough rations for three days and nights. To Hanno’s delight, the Numidians who were to guide them into position were led by no less than Zamar, the officer who’d found him near the Padus. Following the horsemen, the phalanxes quietly marched to the east, following little-used hunting tracks. As the sound of rushing water filled everyone’s ears, Zamar directed them to a hidden dell which lay a couple of hundred paces from the area’s main crossing point over the River Trebia. It was a perfect hiding place. Spacious enough to contain their entire force, but sufficiently close to the ford. ‘I’m leaving you six riders as messengers. Send them out the moment you see anything,’ Zamar muttered before he left. ‘And remember, when the Romans come, none are to be left alive.’

‘Say no more,’ Sapho snarled.

Although Bostar said nothing, Hanno saw a look of distaste flicker across his face. He waited until Zamar was out of sight before turning to his brothers. ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Sapho defensively.

‘You two are permanently like a pair of cats in a bag with each other. Why?’

Bostar and Sapho scowled at each other.

Hanno waited. The silence dragged on for a few moments.

‘It’s really none of your business,’ said Bostar at length.

Hanno flushed. He glanced at Sapho, whose face was a cold mask. Hanno gave up. ‘I’m going to check on my men,’ he muttered and stalked off.

They waited in vain through what remained of the night. By dawn, the Carthaginians were chilled through and miserable. To avoid any possibility of being spotted, no fires had been lit. While it hadn’t rained, the winter damp was pervasive. Following strict orders, the soldiers remained in the clearing during daylight. The sole exceptions to this were a handful of sentries, who, with blackened faces, hid themselves among the trees lining the riverbank. Everyone else had to stay put, even when answering calls of nature. While some found the energy to play dice or knucklebones, most men stayed in their tents, chewing on cold rations or catching up on lost sleep. Still annoyed by his brothers’ pettiness, Hanno spent his time talking to his spearmen, trying to get to know them. He knew by their muted reactions that his efforts would mean little until he’d led them into combat, but it felt better than doing nothing.

The day dragged past without event.

Night fell at last, and Hanno took charge of the sentries, who were stationed along the river’s edge for several hundred paces either side of the ford. He spent his time wandering the bank, his eyes peeled for any enemy activity. There was little cloud cover. The myriad stars above provided enough light to see relatively well, yet hours went by without so much as a flicker of movement on the opposite side. By the time dawn was approaching, Hanno had grown bored and annoyed. ‘Where are the fuckers?’ he muttered to himself.

‘Still in their beds, probably.’

Hanno jumped. Turning, he recognised Bostar’s features in the dim light. ‘Tanit above, you scared me! What are you doing here?’

‘I couldn’t sleep.’

‘You should have stayed under your blankets anyway. It’s a damn sight warmer than out here,’ Hanno replied.

Bostar crouched down beside Hanno with a sigh. ‘To be honest, I wanted to apologise about what happened yesterday with Sapho. Our argument shouldn’t affect our dealings with you.’

‘That’s all right. I shouldn’t have poked my nose where it didn’t belong.’

A more comfortable air settled about them.

‘We’ve actually been fighting for over a year,’ Bostar admitted a moment later.

Hanno was grateful for the darkness, which concealed his surprise. ‘What, the usual stuff with him being pompous and overbearing?’

Bostar’s teeth glinted sadly in the starlight. ‘I wish it was just that.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘It started when you’d been lost at sea.’

‘Eh?’

‘Sapho blamed me for letting you and Suniaton go.’

‘But you both agreed to do so!’

‘That’s not how he saw it. We hadn’t patched things up by the time I was posted to Iberia, and it flared up again the instant he and Father arrived from Carthage months later.’

‘Why?’

‘They’d had news of what had happened to you and Suni. Sapho was furious. He blamed me all over again.’

‘You mean the pirates?’ Suddenly, Hanno remembered Sapho’s comment the day he’d returned, and his father’s promise to tell him what had happened. ‘I’d forgotten.’

‘There was so much going on,’ said Bostar. ‘All that mattered was that you had returned.’

‘We’ve got plenty of time now,’ retorted Hanno. ‘Tell me!’

‘It was a few weeks after you’d disappeared. Thanks to one of his spies, Father got wind of some pirates in the port. Four of them were seized and taken in. Under torture, they admitted selling you and Suni into slavery in Italy.’

Vivid images flashed through Hanno’s mind. ‘Do you know any of their names?’

‘No, sorry,’ said Bostar. ‘Apparently, the captain was an Egyptian.’

‘That’s right!’ said Hanno, shivering. ‘What happened to them?’

‘They were castrated first. Then their limbs were smashed before they were crucified,’ Bostar replied in a flat tone.

Hanno imagined the terrible scene for a moment. ‘Not a good way to die,’ he admitted.

‘No.’

‘But they deserved it,’ declared Hanno harshly. ‘Thanks to those whoresons, Suni and I should have died in the arena.’

‘I know,’ said Bostar with a heavy sigh. ‘Yet seeing what happened to the pirates changed Sapho in some way. Ever since, he’s been much harder. Crueller. You saw how he reacted to what Zamar said. I know that we have to kill any Romans who might cross the river. Orders are orders. But Sapho seems to take pleasure in it.’

‘It’s not nice, but it’s not the end of the world, surely?’ said Hanno, trying to make light of his brother’s words.

‘That’s not all,’ muttered Bostar. ‘He thinks that I’ll do anything to curry favour with Hannibal.’ Quickly, he related how he’d saved Hannibal’s life at Saguntum. ‘You should have seen the expression on Sapho’s face when Hannibal congratulated me. It was as if I’d done it to make him look bad.’

‘That’s crazy!’ Hanno whispered. ‘Are you sure that’s what he thought?’

‘Oh yes. “The perfect fucking officer” he’s taken to calling me.’

Hanno was shocked into silence for a moment. ‘Surely, it hasn’t been all him? There are always two sides to every argument.’

‘Yes, I’ve said some nasty things too.’ Bostar sighed. ‘But every time I try to sort it out, Sapho throws it back in my face. The last time I tried…’ He hesitated for a heartbeat before shaking his head. ‘I’ve given up on him.’

‘Why? What happened?’ asked Hanno.

‘I’m not telling you,’ said Bostar. ‘I can’t.’ He looked away, out over the murmuring river.

Troubled by what Bostar had said, Hanno did not press him further. He tried to be optimistic. Maybe he could act as a mediator? Imagining a world in which Carthage was at peace once more, Hanno pictured himself hunting with his brothers in the mountains south of their city.

Bostar nudged him in the ribs, hard. ‘Pssst! Do you hear that?’

Hanno came down to earth with a jolt. He leaned forward, listening with all his might. For a long time, he could make out nothing. Then, the jingle of harness. Hanno’s senses went on to high alert. ‘That came from across the water,’ he muttered.

‘It did,’ replied Bostar excitedly. ‘Hannibal was right: the Romans want information.’

They watched the far bank like wolves waiting for their prey to emerge. An instant later, their patience was rewarded. The sounds of horses, and men, moving with great care.

A surge of adrenaline pulsed through Hanno’s veins. ‘It has to be Romans!’

‘Or some of their Gaulish allies,’ said Bostar.

It wasn’t long before they could make out a line of soldiers and mounts, winding their way down the track that led to the ford.

‘How many?’ hissed Bostar.

Hanno squinted into the darkness. An accurate head count was impossible. ‘No more than fifty. Probably less. It’s a reconnaissance patrol all right.’

Stopping, the Roman riders gathered together in a huddle.

‘They’re getting their last orders,’ said Hanno.

A moment later, the first man quietly walked his horse into the ice-cold water. It gave a gentle, dissenting whinny, but some muttered reassurances in its ear worked wonders, and it continued without further protest. At once the others began to follow.

Bostar unwound his limbs and stood. ‘Time to move. Go and tell Sapho what’s happening. The Numidians must be alerted immediately. Clear?’

‘Yes. What are you going to do?’

‘I’ll go along the bank to the next sentry, and keep an eye on them until they’re out of sight. We need to be sure that no more of the bastards are going to cross.’

‘Right. See you soon.’ Hanno backed away slowly until he was behind the cover of the trees. Treading lightly on the hard ground, he sped back to their secret camp. He found Sapho pacing the ground before his tent. Quickly, he filled his brother in.

‘Excellent,’ said Sapho with a savage grin. ‘Before long, you will get to blood your men’s spears, and perhaps your own. A special moment for you.’

Hanno nodded nervously. Was he imagining Sapho’s lasciviousness?

‘Well, come on then! This is no time for standing around. Get your men up. I’ll send out a few of the Numidians, and get my phalanx ready. Bostar will do the same no doubt, when he eventually gets here,’ said Sapho.

Hanno frowned. ‘No need for that,’ he said. ‘He’ll be here any moment.’

‘Of course he will!’ Sapho laughed. ‘Now get a move on. We’ll need to move into position the instant the Romans have gone.’

Hanno put his head down and obeyed. He didn’t understand the feud between his brothers, but one thing was certain: Sapho still liked telling him what to do. Irritated, Hanno began rousing his men. When he heard a man grumbling, Hanno lambasted him from a height. His tactic seemed to work; it didn’t take long for the soldiers to assemble alongside Sapho’s phalanx.

Soon after, Bostar’s shape emerged from the gloom that hung over the trees that lined the riverbank. ‘They’ve gone,’ he declared. He whistled at the last three Numidians. ‘Ride out at once. Trail the dogs from a distance. Return when the ambush has been sprung.’

With a quick salute, the cavalrymen sprang on to their horses’ backs. They headed off at the trot.

Bostar approached his brothers. ‘Our time here was not in vain,’ he said with a smile.

‘Finally,’ drawled Sapho. ‘We’ve been waiting for you.’

Why is he needling him like that? thought Hanno.

Bostar’s jaw bunched, but he said nothing. Fortunately, his soldiers had heard their comrades getting up, and were doing the same. When he was done, the trio convened in front of their men.

‘How are we going to work this?’ asked Hanno.

‘It’s obvious,’ said Sapho self-importantly. ‘The phalanxes should form three sides of a square. The fourth side will be completed by the Numidians, who will drive the Romans into the trap. They’ll have nowhere to go. All we have to decide is which phalanx holds each position.’

There was a momentary pause. Each of them had reconnoitred the ground around the crossing point several times. The left flank was taken up by a dense patch of oak trees, while the right was a large swampy area. Neither constituted ground that horses would choose to ride over if given the choice. The best place to stand was on the track that led to the ford. That was where any action would take place.

As the youngest and most inexperienced, Hanno was content to take whichever of the flanks he was given.

‘I’ll take the central side,’ said Bostar abruptly.

‘Typical,’ muttered Sapho. ‘I want it as well. And you don’t outrank me any more, remember?’

The two glowered at each other.

‘This is ridiculous,’ said Hanno angrily. ‘It doesn’t matter which one of you does it.’

Neither of his brothers answered.

‘Why don’t you toss a coin?’

Still neither Bostar nor Sapho spoke.

‘Melqart above!’ exclaimed Hanno. ‘I’ll do it, then.’

‘That’s out of the question,’ snapped Sapho. ‘You’ve got no combat experience.’

‘Exactly,’ added Bostar.

‘I’ve got to start somewhere. Why not here?’ Hanno retorted. ‘Better this, surely, than in a massive battle?’

Bostar looked at Sapho. ‘We can’t stand around arguing all morning,’ he said in a conciliatory tone.

Sapho gave a careless shrug. ‘It would be hard for Hanno to get it wrong, I suppose.’

Feeling humiliated, Hanno looked down.

‘That’s unnecessary,’ barked Bostar. ‘Father has trained Hanno well. Hannibal himself picked him to lead a phalanx. His men are veterans. The chances of him fucking up are no greater than if I were in the centre.’ He paused. ‘Or you were.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Sapho’s eyes were mere slits.

‘Stop it!’ Hanno cried. ‘You should both be ashamed of yourselves. Hannibal gave us a job to do, remember? Let’s just do it, please.’

Like sulky children, his brothers broke eye contact. In silence, they stalked off to stand before their phalanxes. Hanno waited for a moment before realising that it was up to him to lead the way. ‘Form up, six men wide,’ he ordered. ‘Follow me.’ He was pleased by his soldiers’ rapid response. Many of them looked pleased by what had happened, which encouraged him further.

The three phalanxes deployed at the ford, in open order. Once they closed up, the spearmen would present a continuous front of overlapping shields. No horse would approach such an obstacle. The forest of spears protruding from it promised death by impalement to anyone foolish enough to try.

Hanno marched up and down, muttering encouraging words to his men. He was grateful that his father had advised him to recognise as many of his soldiers as possible. It was a simple ruse, yet not a man failed to grin when Hanno spoke to him by name. His efforts didn’t take long, though, and soon time began to drag. Muscles that had been stirred into activity by their movement into position grew cold again. A damp breeze blew off the river, chilling the waiting soldiers to the bone. Allowing them to warm up was not an option, nor was singing, a common method of raising morale.

All they could do was wait.

Dawn came, but banks of lowering cloud concealed the sun. The sole sign of life was the occasional small bird fluttering among the trees’ bare branches; the only sound the murmur of the river at their backs. Finally, Hanno’s grumbling belly made him wonder if they should order an issue of rations. Before he could query this with his brothers, the sound of galloping hooves attracted everyone’s attention. All eyes turned to the track leading west.

When two Numidians came thundering around the corner, there was a massed intake of breath.

‘They’re coming!’ one shouted as he drew nearer.

‘With five hundred of our comrades hot on their tails!’ whooped the other.

Hanno scarcely heard. ‘Close order!’ he screamed. ‘Ready spears!’