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Authors: David Anthony Durham
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they have caused, nor for your brothers who have been sent on to the next world. Just in the last few days I detailed to them through one of their citizens my terms for their surrender. Even at this date Hannibal conceded the possibility of mercy. But I went spurned.”
He paused at the edge of the Libyans, facing a company of mounted Massylii Numidians, these men easy on their horses, dark and tattooed as was their custom, with matted ropes of hair brushing their shoulders, eyes that sat deep and moved heavily. These men were also paid for their services, but they had been offered to the Carthaginian army by their king, Gaia, who made it clear he longed for an official, lasting union with Carthage.
When the various translations ceased and the crowd hushed, Hannibal spoke in rhythm with the throbbing beat still kept by the Libyans. “So let this now be known: That city, when it falls, goes to the men who capture it! What booty may be found there, in gold, in coins and jewels and weapons. In men and children. In women. Hannibal claims none of it. We will send some tribute to Carthage, so that the people may understand our work, and portion some to fund this great army. But beyond that Hannibal gives it all to those brave enough to take it, to do with it what they please. This siege has gone on long enough, my friends—let us now raze this place and be done with it!”
He did not have to await translation to get the men's roar of approval. Those who understood his Carthaginian shouted their immediate pleasure. Others joined in, perhaps not understanding completely but knowing that something unusual was being offered to them and willing to express joy and get the details later. They fell on Saguntum that day with an enthusiasm that must have rocked the defenders. The motley soldiers of Carthage threw their bodies at the walls as if they could claw through the stone itself. The Saguntines in return hurled down their spears and stones. Bodies were impaled and burned, skulls shattered and limbs snapped. But each man that fell was stepped upon by another willing to climb over his body and get for himself a portion of the city's riches. And perhaps each man was aware that the body he climbed over made one fewer to divide the treasure with.
Nor were the soldiers without a model of bravery. Hannibal was among them. Later all the men would claim to have labored beside him at some point during the day. He dragged back the battering ram and ran forward yelling his fury into the base of the wall. He scaled the lower portion of a ladder and only just jumped to safety when a log was set rolling from the wall above, peeling off the men before and below him and leaving them shattered and broken. He landed awkwardly from his leap and limped so markedly that Mago convinced him to mount again. He did so, and rode exhorting the men. It was atop that churning mass of muscle that the hand of another's fate touched him in a way it had never before.
In all the movement and action, his mouth open and yelling, horse swirling beneath him, men rushing about him, he did not notice the falarica let loose from a tower high on the wall. He did not see the fingers that released it or hear the prayer on the lips of that person. The spearhead itself was four feet long, followed by a compartment smeared with pitch and set aflame, behind which stretched ten feet of shaft that gave the weapon a deadly weight in falling. It cut a fiery, indirect path toward its target, first up into the air, then arching, arching, losing upward speed, but gaining from gravity's pull as it returned to the earth. In the time this missile was in the air Hannibal and his mount circled and pranced and galloped a short distance and pulled up. He and the horse might easily have been yards from the spear when it struck the earth. This fact would haunt him afterward though he would never voice his questions about what this meant for the will of the gods or the intentions of the
He paused at the edge of the Libyans, facing a company of mounted Massylii Numidians, these men easy on their horses, dark and tattooed as was their custom, with matted ropes of hair brushing their shoulders, eyes that sat deep and moved heavily. These men were also paid for their services, but they had been offered to the Carthaginian army by their king, Gaia, who made it clear he longed for an official, lasting union with Carthage.
When the various translations ceased and the crowd hushed, Hannibal spoke in rhythm with the throbbing beat still kept by the Libyans. “So let this now be known: That city, when it falls, goes to the men who capture it! What booty may be found there, in gold, in coins and jewels and weapons. In men and children. In women. Hannibal claims none of it. We will send some tribute to Carthage, so that the people may understand our work, and portion some to fund this great army. But beyond that Hannibal gives it all to those brave enough to take it, to do with it what they please. This siege has gone on long enough, my friends—let us now raze this place and be done with it!”
He did not have to await translation to get the men's roar of approval. Those who understood his Carthaginian shouted their immediate pleasure. Others joined in, perhaps not understanding completely but knowing that something unusual was being offered to them and willing to express joy and get the details later. They fell on Saguntum that day with an enthusiasm that must have rocked the defenders. The motley soldiers of Carthage threw their bodies at the walls as if they could claw through the stone itself. The Saguntines in return hurled down their spears and stones. Bodies were impaled and burned, skulls shattered and limbs snapped. But each man that fell was stepped upon by another willing to climb over his body and get for himself a portion of the city's riches. And perhaps each man was aware that the body he climbed over made one fewer to divide the treasure with.
Nor were the soldiers without a model of bravery. Hannibal was among them. Later all the men would claim to have labored beside him at some point during the day. He dragged back the battering ram and ran forward yelling his fury into the base of the wall. He scaled the lower portion of a ladder and only just jumped to safety when a log was set rolling from the wall above, peeling off the men before and below him and leaving them shattered and broken. He landed awkwardly from his leap and limped so markedly that Mago convinced him to mount again. He did so, and rode exhorting the men. It was atop that churning mass of muscle that the hand of another's fate touched him in a way it had never before.
In all the movement and action, his mouth open and yelling, horse swirling beneath him, men rushing about him, he did not notice the falarica let loose from a tower high on the wall. He did not see the fingers that released it or hear the prayer on the lips of that person. The spearhead itself was four feet long, followed by a compartment smeared with pitch and set aflame, behind which stretched ten feet of shaft that gave the weapon a deadly weight in falling. It cut a fiery, indirect path toward its target, first up into the air, then arching, arching, losing upward speed, but gaining from gravity's pull as it returned to the earth. In the time this missile was in the air Hannibal and his mount circled and pranced and galloped a short distance and pulled up. He and the horse might easily have been yards from the spear when it struck the earth. This fact would haunt him afterward though he would never voice his questions about what this meant for the will of the gods or the intentions of the
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