“That’s Prince Masinissa of the Maesulii tribe. Your father invited him here to talk. He’s an envoy for his uncle, King Oezalces.”
“He’s a handsome man.”
Zanthia looked at Sophonisba, surprised by the young woman’s comment. She smiled. “Yes, you could feel his presence from here. He would be a prize for any woman even without his royal blood.”
“Help me freshen up, Zanthia. Somehow the prince must see me before he leaves.”
After fighting bravely and with initiative for the Carthaginians in Spain, gaining the attention of officers on both sides of the war, Masinissa had been sent to Italy to train with Maharbal. That was when I first encountered him and had been so impressed. Shortly after that, he had returned to Spain only to learn that his father, King Gala, had died and that the crown had been passed on to his father’s younger brother, Oezalces, who, unfortunately, was also in poor health. Masinissa immediately left Spain for Cirta. Soon afterward, Oezalces was contacted by Hasdrubal, asking for an opportunity to talk with him. Instead of inviting the Carthaginian sufet to his palace in Cirta, the new king sent his nephew Masinissa to Carthage. Hasdrubal requested that the young man come to his country estate.
Vangue met Masinissa at the door and escorted him to Hasdrubal’s study. Hasdrubal knew Masinissa from his time in Spain, but had never spoken to him. Hasdrubal opened the conversation with several compliments to Masinissa’s late father, then quickly proceeded to the topic of interest. He described the situation of the war in much better terms than truly existed. He told the young prince that the Council of Elders anticipated a Roman invasion in the spring and that any Roman presence in Africa represented a threat to all of Africa, including the tribal kingdoms in Numidia. He told Masinissa that Carthage sought a full military agreement with his uncle and that such an alliance would be beneficial to the security of both nations. Carthage would pay the cost of all military operations if King Oezalces could provide an army in the neighborhood of thirty thousand foot and ten thousand horse.
Having spent several months in Italy, Masinissa understood the circumstances of the war better than Hasdrubal might have thought. He knew what had happened at Metaurus, and he knew that Hannibal was struggling. He even knew that Scipio was the Roman general set on invading Africa. Scipio had approached him right after his return to Spain and had asked the young cavalry commander to change sides and to take part in the invasion. Still an active member of the Carthaginian cavalry, Masinissa made no commitment at the time. Soon afterward, he learned of his father’s death and left for Cirta without any follow-up to Scipio’s proposition.
Now he was in Carthage with a much more substantial offer. Knowing how ill his uncle was, and that he or his cousin was next in line for the crown, Masinissa listened as though the proposal were being made to him. With offers from both warring nations on the table, he understood that he was in a position to do something important for his people. “Hasdrubal,” he said, “I am honored by your offer, but I can give you no answer today. I will take your message back to my uncle. Only he can make such a decision.”
“Yes, of course,” said Hasdrubal, “but you know that the Romans have contacted Syphax recently and made an agreement.”
Masinissa lifted his head. It was not something he knew. The two Numidian tribes, the Maesulii and the Masaesyli, were longtime enemies, constantly skirmishing at their borders. Never would they fight for the same side. “That’s worth knowing,” replied Masinissa. “I’m sure that will figure strongly in my uncle’s response.”
Hasdrubal was a successful merchant, who made deals of all kinds. Again he did not immediately offer his daughter’s hand as part of the arrangement. He felt Syphax’s alliance with Rome would be more than enough incentive for Oezalces to side with Carthage. If not, then he would offer the king his daughter and a large dowry as further inducement.
Hasdrubal’s villa was surrounded by an extensive formal garden. Pink paths of powdered coral twisted through beds of exotic flowers, interspersed with native cactus, jujube trees, and date palms. Exquisite stone fountains, imported Greek sculptures, and religious shrines hid in grottos or populated the open spaces. Enclosed by a ten-foot stone wall, draped with purple wisteria, the property resembled a palace more than a home. Hasdrubal paid a private battalion of guards to patrol the grounds day and night.
Sophonisba and Zanthia were in the garden picking flowers near the front door, when Vangue escorted Masinissa out of the house. Sophonisba wore the pale blue, single-strap gown that was her father’s favorite. Although a young woman with no experience with men, she knew full well why her father liked the gown and wanted to make certain the young prince had the opportunity to see her in it.
Sophonisba inspected several rose bushes with her back to the door, pretending to be unaware of the young man who was waiting for his horse. Zanthia whispered that the young man was watching her. Sophonisba leaned over to cut a flower, presenting herself to him in a way that was impossible for the prince to ignore. She added the rose to those already in her hand, then suddenly turned to face him, looking into his eyes as though reading his thoughts.
It may have been her figure from behind that first caught Masinissa’s attention, but Sophonisba’s beauty, particularly that first look she gave him, struck him like a thunderbolt. Not a shy man, he approached her boldly, “You must be the daughter of Hasdrubal Gisgo,” he said in perfect Greek. “My name is Masinissa, son of Gala. Is there any chance you’re picking those flowers for me?” His nostrils flared with excitement as he looked her up and down, his brilliant smile as disarming as her aquamarine eyes.
Sophonisba, as taken with his Greek as she was with his confident manner, seemed to double in radiance. She motioned with one hand to the flowers all around. “As you can see, we have plenty. These were for the house, but take them if you like.” She extended the bouquet to him. “Please call me by my name. I am Sophonisba.”
Masinissa came up close to her to take the flowers, captivated by the color of her eyes and the poetic rhythm of her voice. “Sophonisba, a name as lovely as you,” he said, breathing in the fragrances that encompassed her.
Although ten years younger than the Numidian prince, and hardly more than a girl, Sophonisba didn’t blush at his compliment. She knew what her beauty did to men, and that ignoring their pretty words as though they were nothing only increased her allure. “What interest does a warrior like yourself have in flowers?”
“I will give them to the one I love, of course.”
“Then you have a wife?” asked Sophonisba, having already been told by Zanthia that he didn’t.
“No, my dear Chthonia means more to me than a wife.”
“A courtesan?”
Masinissa laughed. “Better!” He glanced over his shoulder. “Here she comes now.”
The stable boy crossed the grounds leading Masinissa’s jet black garron by the halter. The riders that had accompanied the prince trailed behind on their horses. Masinissa held out the bouquet to his horse. Chthonia took them in her mouth and began chewing.
Sophonisba knew she was being teased. “I have always heard Numidian men took to their horses more seriously than they took to their women.” She turned her body to accent the curves in her figure and pushed her hair behind her ear. “Now I know it’s true.” She tipped her head. “How sad for the Numidian women.”
Masinissa laughed freely. “What a shame Sophonisba is not so drawn to Numidian horsemen as her father.” He suddenly swung up onto his horse, then turned to her with the arrows of his eyes. “Maybe one day she will be.” He stroked and patted his horse’s rump affectionately, as though it could be a woman’s.
“It’s unlikely,” she replied, already glowing with evidence to the contrary.
Their eyes met and held for a moment. Masinissa abruptly turned his horse and galloped from the courtyard, leading the other men out through the gate.
Zanthia approached Sophonisba from behind. “I thought you wanted to know someth
ing about men?”
“What do you mean?”
“What is there for me to tell you? That man is already in love with you.”
PART III
RETURN TO SYRACUSE
“Scipio advised the people that they would never drive Hannibal and the Carthaginians out of Italy except by sending a Roman army into Africa and so bringing danger to their doors. By persisting strenuously and persuading those who hesitated, he was chosen general for Africa and sailed forthwith to Sicily.”
-Appian of Alexandria, Foreign Wars of Rome
CHAPTER 28
Publius Cornelius Scipio returned to Rome in February with ten transports loaded with plunder collected in Spain. The day following his arrival he went to the Temple of Bellona to make a report to the Senate on his five years in Spain. With his desire to be elected to a consulship behind every word, he recounted his capture of Cartagena, his victories against four different Carthaginian generals, his subjugation of the Iberian tribes, and finally his complete elimination of all Carthaginian forces from the region. In conclusion, he proudly stated that Spain was now a Roman province, then requested a triumph, admitting that he was well aware that triumphs could only be granted to elected consuls, which he had not been while in Spain.
Although his achievements were impressive and his reputation as a field marshal was rising as rapidly as his popularity among the populace, he was not granted a triumph. Two days later, he entered the city with a long train of treasure from Spain that included a donation of fourteen thousand pounds of silver to the treasury.
A week later, on the eighteenth of February, in an election presided over by the current co-consul Lucius Veturius Philo, Scipio was unanimously elected to his first consulship. His friend Publius Licinius Crassus was chosen as his co-consul, also his first consulship. On a more personal note, Marcus Claudius was successful in his bid to become one of the five tribunes of the plebs. It was his first official position in government, and we celebrated at the villa that night.
The two consuls were inaugurated twenty-seven days later on the ides of March. Following the sacrifice of two white oxen at the Temple of Jupiter, Scipio and Licinius convened the first Senate meeting of the three hundred and fourth year of the Roman Republic—the fourteenth year of the war with Hannibal.
I went into Rome that day with Marcus to attend the meeting. Anyone paying attention knew that the invasion of Africa would be the central issue of the day, and this inspired a huge turnout from the populace. Marcus stood with the other four tribunes to the left of the assembly of senators. I squeezed in with the mass of citizens who were so tightly pressed up against the walls around the perimeter of the Curia that many others spilled out into the forum.
The meeting began when Scipio and Licinius entered the chamber to a loud roar of approval. They took their seats in the two curule chairs and faced the amphitheater of three hundred senators. The poulterer came to the center of the Senate floor with a wooden cage containing two chickens. Fabius, as the senior augur, accepted a handful of feed from the poulterer and raised his hand for silence. When the hubbub of the room quieted, he sprinkled the feed into the cage. After a moment, Fabius announced to the Senate and those in the audience that the chickens had eaten with vigor. “The auspices are favorable. Let this meeting of the Roman Senate begin.”
As was the law, the two consuls took turns presiding over the Senate meetings. Licinius offered the younger Scipio, now thirty years old, the honor of being princeps senatus for the first meeting.
Scipio had let his hair grow unusually long in Spain. He combed it back from his face so that it fell in blond waves onto his shoulders. In the bright white toga pretexta, the handsome consul appeared some other species of man in the room full of dark Latins and elderly men with white beards. Although he spoke with a well-practiced humility, his high opinion of himself was evident in everything he said.
“I would first like to thank the citizens of Rome for electing so young a man as myself to the position of consul. I am truly honored, and will do everything in my power to earn the trust and respect of those who put me in office. That said, I am not here to simply oversee the continuation of our war with Hannibal. In my opinion, it has gone on far too long. After the business of the day is completed, my co-consul and I will offer a plan to end it.”
This brought another round of thunderous approval from the audience who knew this meant invading Africa.
Following several long reports on the finances of the state, representatives from the various Roman provinces made statements. An ambassador from the city of Saguntum, on the coast of Spain, was the last to come forward. The war had begun when Hannibal initiated a siege of Saguntum prior to his march through the Alps. The ambassador thanked the Roman people for protecting them from the Carthaginians and the Roman Senate for honoring the promises of their longtime alliance. The ambassador concluded almost tearfully with thanks to Publius Scipio. After reciting a litany of superlatives to describe the newly elected consul, he retold the story of Scipio’s father and uncle being killed in Spain, and Scipio’s coming there at the very worst of times, and taking a general’s command though only twenty-five. “With courage and intelligence, Scipio systematically cast the Carthaginians out of Spain and brought the most violent of the Iberian tribes to heel. Saguntum owes him everything. We believe the Roman people could not have elected a better man to the position of consul.”
Standing at the edge of the room, watching over and between the heads of those in front of me, I almost laughed at the ambassador’s extended praise of Scipio, knowing it was all part of a well-orchestrated prelude to introducing the most important topic of the day. But the ambassador’s statements were also true. The young officer had proven himself to be a field marshal of the highest caliber, and now he was leading the Senate.
The next piece of business was the assignment of commands and the distribution of troops. This began with the two consuls drawing lots for their provinces of duty. A flamen came to the floor of the Senate with an empty ceramic bowl and a half-filled pitcher of water containing two wooden lots—one for the province of southern Italy and one for Sicily. The standard practice required one of the consuls to pour the water from the pitcher into the bowl until one of the lots fell into the bowl—that lot would name his province.
Licinius stood from his chair and addressed the Senate. “Senators, citizens of Rome, as all of you know I am the pontifex maximus, and as such, I will have religious duties to attend to in Rome throughout the year. Because of this, I believe it would be in the best interest of the state that my command be the province of southern Italy. There will be no need to draw lots if my co-consul will accept the province of Sicily as his command.”
Licinius’ request was not out of the ordinary. No one in the Senate objected, though Fabius looked at the floor and shook his head. In retrospect, this may have been something that Scipio and Licinius had worked out prior to the election, knowing that Scipio sought the province of Sicily for staging an invasion of Africa.
When Licinius returned to his chair, Scipio stood and turned to Licinius. “Consul, I would be honored to take the province of Sicily, and nothing could be a more appropriate preface to introducing what, in my opinion, is the best military strategy for the coming year.”
Scipio advanced to the first row of the Senate amphitheater, then strode confidently back and forth along its length, assessing his audience before continuing. “While many here today contend that the central theater of the war this year will be in southern Italy, my co-consul and I are of a different opinion. As I said earlier, we believe that we were elected to consulships not merely to conduct the war but to end it—and that can only be achieved by invading Africa.”
This was what the audience was waiting for, and again the boisterous crowd erupted with an enthusiastic demonstration of support. And yet, despite this response, and the fear of a Roman invasion already brewing in Carthage, the decision was by no means settled among the senators
.
Scipio glanced briefly at Fabius sitting on the left side of the amphitheater. “I have visited Lilybaeum in Sicily and determined it is the best port for transporting an army to Africa. My tribune Gaius Laelius has scouted the north coast of Africa and found several possible locations for staging an invasion, and I have recently secured assurances from King Syphax of Numidia that he will not provide support of any kind to the Carthaginians. I plan to go to Africa as soon as I can raise the troops. I will besiege Carthage and by doing so force Hannibal to return to his homeland.” His eyes lit with the intensity of his purpose. “I realize there will be strong objections to this strategy from some my colleagues, so if I cannot gain the Senate’s approval today, I will go to the People’s Assembly tomorrow to ask for the authority to circumvent the Senate’s position.”
Scipio’s final words were spoken directly to Fabius, who had led opposition to an invasion of Africa for the past three years. The room became completely quiet in anticipation of Fabius’ response. The grand old man of Rome stood slowly, showing his eighty years. He had been directing Rome’s military since the war’s second year, and now with Hannibal pinned in Bruttium, some would argue Fabius’ strategy of tactical defense had already won the war. Although his words no longer held the influence they once had, he responded to Scipio with the calm and reason that had made him one of the most respected Roman statesmen in the history of the Republic.
“Many of you here today may feel that the subject we are about to debate has not already been settled, and that the question of fighting in Africa remains an open question. This is not the case. There has been no resolution in the Senate stating that Africa will be a theater of military operations in the coming year, and our young consul insults the Senate by presuming to assume a command that has yet to be approved.
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