"Ah! we have reached it! We are there! I have them!"
He had so convinced and
triumphant an air that Matho was surprised
from his torpor, and felt himself carried away by it. These words,
coming when his
distress was at its
height, drove his
despair to
vengeance, and
pointed to food for his wrath. He bounded upon one of
the camels that were among the
baggage, snatched up its
halter, and
with the long rope, struck the stragglers with all his might, running
right and left
alternately, in the rear of the army, like a dog
driving a flock.
At this thundering voice the lines of men closed up; even the lame
hurried their steps; the intervening space lessened in the middle of
the isthmus. The
foremost of the Barbarians were marching in the dust
raised by the Carthaginians. The two armies were coming close, and
were on the point of
touching. But the Malqua gate, the Tagaste gate,
and the great gate of Khamon threw wide their leaves. The Punic square
divided; three columns were swallowed up, and eddied beneath the
porches. Soon the mass, being too
tightly packed, could advance no
further; pikes clashed in the air, and the arrows of the Barbarians
were shivering against the walls.
Hamilcar was to be seen on the
threshold of Khamon. He turned round
and shouted to his men to move aside. He dismounted from his horse;
and pricking it on the croup with the sword which he held, sent it
against the Barbarians.
It was a black stallion, which was fed on balls of meal, and would
bend its knees to allow its master to mount. Why was he sending it
away? Was this a sacrifice?
The noble horse galloped into the midst of the lances, knocked down
men, and, entangling its feet in its entrails, fell down, then rose
again with
furious leaps; and while they were moving aside,
trying to
stop it, or looking at it in surprise, the Carthaginians had united
again; they entered, and the
enormous gate shut echoing behind them.
It would not yield. The Barbarians came crushing against it;--and for
some minutes there was an oscillation throughout the army, which
became weaker and weaker, and at last ceased.
The Carthaginians had placed soldiers on the aqueduct, they began to
hurl stones, balls, and beams. Spendius represented that it would be
best not to
persist. The Barbarians went and posted themselves further
off, all being quite
resolved to lay siege to Carthage.
The rumour of the war, however, had passed beyond the confines of the
Punic empire; and from the pillars of Hercules to beyond Cyrene
shepherds mused on it as they kept their flocks, and caravans talked
about it in the light of the stars. This great Carthage,
mistress of
the seas, splendid as the sun, and terrible as a god,
actually found
men who were
daring enough to attack her! Her fall even had been
asserted several times; and all had believed it for all wished it: the
subject populations, the
tributary villages, the
allied provinces, the
independent hordes, those who execrated her for her
tyranny or were
jealous of her power, or coveted her
wealth. The bravest had very
speedily joined the Mercenaries. The defeat at the Macaras had checked
all the rest. At last they had recovered confidence, had gradually
advanced and approached; and now the men of the eastern regions were
lying on the sandhills of Clypea on the other side of the gulf. As
soon as they perceived the Barbarians they showed themselves.
They were not Libyans from the neighbourhood of Carthage, who had long
composed the third army, but nomads from the tableland of Barca,
bandits from Cape Phiscus and the promontory of Dernah, from Phazzana
and Marmarica. They had crossed the desert, drinking at the brackish
wells walled in with camels' bones; the Zuaeces, with their covering
of
ostrich feathers, had come on quadrigae; the Garamantians, masked
with black veils, rode behind on their painted mares; others were
mounted on asses, onagers, zebras, and buffaloes; while some dragged
after them the roofs of their sloop-shaped huts together with their
families and idols. There were Ammonians with limbs wrinkled by the
hot water of the springs; Atarantians, who curse the sun; Troglodytes,
who bury their dead with
laughter beneath branches of trees; and the
hideous Auseans, who eat grass-hoppers; the Achyrmachidae, who eat
lice; and the vermilion-painted Gysantians, who eat apes.
All were ranged along the edge of the sea in a great straight line.
Afterwards they
advanced like tornadoes of sand raised by the wind. In
the centre of the isthmus the
throng stopped, the Mercenaries who were