Zama

by Dan Armstrong

  “I realize that my opposition to invading Africa will be heavily criticized on two counts. The first is that my natural tendency is to avoid impulsive actions, which some attribute to indolence or cowardice, despite what my strategic methods have proven in practice. The second objection will be that I am simply envious of the daring young consul and his growing desire for glory, and that I wish ill will for the man.” Fabius looked directly at Scipio. “Nothing could be further from the truth. My reputation is not in question. I have been elected consul five times. I served as dictator in the second year of the war, and I have received the highest accolades a soldier and a statesman can achieve. If this were not enough recognition for any man, then my age surely speaks against such jealousy. How could I possibly hope to compete with a man who is younger than my son? Why would I now, at the end of my career, enter into a petty rivalry with a man in the very flower of his manhood for the prize of an African campaign? Should I successfully stop his effort, the command to confront Hannibal would certainly not be given to me. No, my days of conquest are over. My defensive tactics have prevented Hannibal from taking Rome. Now it is for those of you who are young and strong to finally bring him to his knees.”

  A light applause arose from about half the senators.

  “For me, Consul,” continued Fabius, “the welfare and glory of Rome has always been more important than what others might say of me. So excuse me if I don’t rate your achievements in Spain, which the ambassador so graciously described, above the security of Rome itself. If there were no war in Italy, if there were no enemy on our soil, I would be the first to send you off to Africa. But our enemy is Hannibal, and he still occupies Bruttium and Lucania and his army is still intact. Would you not be just as satisfied with the glory of defeating Hannibal here in Italy, as in Africa? Why not focus your efforts on defeating this still formidable enemy where he is now?”

  Fabius shook his head in obvious displeasure. “Don’t promise what you can’t possibly know, Consul. We have no real assurance that when your army arrives in Africa that Hannibal will follow. And why take the risk of transporting an army across the sea? March directly to where he is at this moment and fight him there. Let us first bring peace to our homeland before we take the war to Africa. Could you not just as well defeat Hannibal in Italy, and then go to Africa to complete the task of taking Carthage? Even should another be responsible for that invasion, wouldn’t the man who defeated Hannibal still be granted the greatest fame and glory?

  “Above and beyond your own grand plans, it is a fact that public funds cannot support two separate armies—one in Italy and one in Africa. Imagine the danger, if, with our resources stretched to the limit, Hannibal should regain traction in Italy and march again on Rome. How would we defend ourselves with half our military across the sea?

  “I heard you say that you had received a pledge of loyalty from the Numidian King Syphax. Have we not already learned the fickle nature of barbarian allies? The enemy did not defeat your father or your uncle until they were betrayed by their Celtibarian friends. And did you not have as much trouble with the Indibilis and Mandonius tribes in Spain as you did with the Carthaginians generals? Yes, you might say that the Numidians, whether the Maesulii or the Masaesyli, are just as jealous of Carthage as they are of each other, and that these people are in a constant struggle among themselves for control of North Africa, but should another nation suddenly invade their country, might we not expect that their mutual danger would bring them together against a foreign foe?

  “Be aware, Consul, your success in Spain will be but child’s play compared to fighting the Carthaginians on their own soil with their own walls and gods to protect. And even with all your recognized talents, did you not allow Hasdrubal to slip out of Spain? After you had promised to this same Senate two years ago that you would prevent that. In my opinion, you are still being educated in the art of war and are not ready for such an invasion.

  “Not even you can deny that the very head and seat of the war is wherever Hannibal is. Wouldn’t it be easier to defeat the man here on our soil, where he is boxed into the toe of Italy and his resources are stretched to nearly breaking, than in his own backyard with all of Africa at his back and his knowledge of the land and the customs of the people so much greater than yours? This, Scipio, is an odd sort of strategy for winning a war.

  “It appears to me that you want to go to Africa because you believe it will increase your fame and glory—not Rome’s security. To make matters worse, you have told us you will do this even without authorization from the Senate.” The old senator wagged his head, then turned to face his fellow members of the Senate.

  “In my view, gentlemen, Publius Scipio has not been made consul for his own personal benefit but to serve the country and to serve us, the Senate. Our armies have been raised for the protection of Rome and Italy, not for arrogant generals who believe they can whisk away to any part of the world they please to accumulate trophies. Please, Consul, reconsider your demands.” With these final words Fabius sat down to extended applause from the senior senators and a scattering of catcalls from those in the audience who had been captured by the gallant Scipio’s adventurous spirit.

  Scipio, who had remained standing in the center of the Senate floor, made the slightest acknowledgment to Fabius, then answered his critic.

  “Fabius prefaced his speech by saying that his stand against the invasion of Africa and his disparagement of me will lead to accusations of envy. Although I would never make such a claim against a man as great as Fabius, I don’t believe that suspicion has been entirely washed away. As you will recall, he listed his own accomplishments, which are many, as a way to clear the air, and assure you that he in no way considers my achievements to date comparable to his. The implication—how could such a man be jealous of me?—is fair enough. But he also noted his age, and that in no way could he pretend to be in competition with a man younger than his own son. I don’t see how this applies to the argument.

  “A man’s glory, if it is real, is not limited by his age or his lifetime. Great deeds are remembered without regard to time. They live on in the memory of posterity. If you will forgive my saying so, Fabius, I do not wish to rival your fame. My ambition is to surpass it.” He stared directly at the man. “And I imagine that with your great wisdom, you must surely see this is the way we should want all Romans to be. That every man should hope to be greater than those who came before him. How could it be otherwise? Older generations could not want those who follow to be lesser men. That would be no way to make a nation greater.”

  Several in the audience shouted out, “Of course not,” or “How could it be otherwise?”

  Scipio nodded at these comments, then continued. “When Fabius referred to my desire to go to Africa, it seemed that he might actually be worried about me personally. That my youth and my lack of experience would lead me into a situation that I would not be prepared for and that might be disastrous for my career and for Rome. Why did he not show the same concern when my father and uncle were killed in Spain, and only I, among all Romans, though a mere twenty-five years old, stood up and asked for a command that no one else wanted. I was far less experienced than I am now, and no one spoke out then about my youth or the enemy’s strength or the difficulty of the task at hand. Can anyone truly say that the situation in Spain is that much different than the one in Africa? Will I not fight the same generals? That is, until Hannibal is forced to return to his homeland.

  “Yes, it is easy enough to disparage my achievements in Spain—the utter defeat of four Carthaginian armies, the subjugation of countless fierce barbarian tribes, the conquest of the entire country all the way to the Atlantic Ocean, a complete victory as expressed by our guest from Saguntum.” Scipio motioned to the man standing off to his left. “It might be just as easy, should I return victorious from Africa, to diminish that achievement, as a danger grossly exaggerated by an old man simply to keep a young man at home.”

  Scipio began to pace
back and forth before the Senate. “More than once during this debate, which has been going on for three years now, we have heard of the horrible outcomes that befall a general when he takes an army to a foreign land. We are reminded of the Greek’s invasion of Sicily two hundred years ago. Or our own Regulus who disastrously invaded Africa in our first war with Carthage. But the successes were never mentioned. Did Agathocles of Syracuse not successfully invade Africa? Did Pyrrhus of Epirus not have success in his invasion of Sicily? But why go back in history at all? Why not admit the truth? Has not Hannibal brought an army to our own country and for fourteen years successfully ravaged the countryside with pillaging and destruction?”

  Scipio, now radiant with the energy of his words, stopped pacing and turned briefly to the audience around the perimeter, then back to the three hundred senators seated before him. “Does the courage of war not burn brightest in the invader, not the defender? Does it not take a braver man to venture into the unknown of another land with the dream of conquest? When many of our allies deserted us because of Hannibal’s victories, we stood strong with our citizen soldiers and those allies who did not renege on their allegiance. Carthage has no such federation of city-states. They are tyrannical masters who are always at odds with their African neighbors. The defeat of Carthage will only mean greater freedom for other African peoples. Carthage will find no support at home and doesn’t have the citizen soldiers that are the backbone of our military.

  “No, I believe Africa will be an easier task than Spain, and at the moment you hear that I have crossed the sea, and that Carthage is ablaze, you will learn that Hannibal is preparing his ships to leave Italy. Expect more frequent and more encouraging dispatches from Africa than you received from me while in Spain. Yes, I shall rely on the loyalty of Syphax and other barbarians that I may bring to our cause, but as Fabius so aptly warned, I should also be careful and protect myself by anticipating treachery. Which I will—so that I can cut it off before it begins.

  “Don’t worry, Fabius,” Scipio continued, nodding in Fabius’ direction. “I will have the antagonist you want to bow before. But that man won’t keep me here. Instead I shall draw him away to fight him on his own ground with the prize of victory Carthage, not a handful of dilapidated Bruttium towns. Think of it! The destruction of Carthage would heighten Rome’s reputation in the eyes of kings and princes everywhere. They will know that we are no less courageous than brazen Hannibal. That when our country is attacked, the enemy must expect the same for their homeland.

  “Italy has long suffered. That we all know. Let her have a rest. Let Africa be the theater of war. For fourteen years all the horror of combat and the terror of defeat have fallen on us; it is now Carthage’s turn to suffer the same. She must be destroyed!”

  Despite the spirit and energy of Scipio’s speech, and the enthusiastic way the audience responded to his high-handed manner, it was not received well by the Senate. Scipio’s earlier threat that he would ask the People’s Assembly for permission to go to Africa if the Senate refused him had not been forgotten. Quintus Fulvius, four times a consul, stood up. “Consul, please, for the Senate’s sake, call for a vote to settle this issue—yes or no. But first tell me, so that our time is not wasted, if the answer is no, will you abide by that decree?”

  “I will do whatever is in the best interest of the state,” replied Scipio.

  “In other words, Consul,” continued Fulvius, clearly angry at Scipio’s evasive answer, “you are not really consulting the Senate at all, merely sounding it, and unless we promptly grant you what you want, you have a bill ready to present to the people to override our refusal.”

  When Scipio made no comment, Fulvius turned to the five tribunes of the plebs. “If that is the case, tribunes, can you protect the integrity of the Senate’s decision?”

  The five tribunes conferred quickly. One of them, not Marcus, stepped forward. “If the consul allows the Senate to assign provinces, he must abide by the Senate’s decision. And should he resist, we will not allow a bill to the contrary to be brought before the people.”

  Scipio lifted his head indignantly, then abruptly returned to the chair beside his co-consul. He whispered something to Livinius, then told the Senate that he would like a day to discuss the options with his colleague. He called for a recess and announced that the Senate would reconvene the next day.

  I had never witnessed the Senate in so ugly a mood as when the senators filed out of the Curia that afternoon. Scipio didn’t stay around to listen to the senators complain. Marcus found me outside. He was more amused than angry.

  “Scipio has some gall, don’t you think?” he asked with a wry grin.

  “There’s no denying that. What do you expect will happen?”

  “Scipio and Livinius will confer with the senators who support the invasion. They will get a head count and make a decision whether they feel they have sufficient numbers to ask for a vote.”

  “How do you see that going?”

  “I would vote with Scipio, and I think many of the senators feel the same way, just to avoid the rancor at a time when we need to think as one. The older senators will fight it. Fabius will certainly make his own head count. Three years ago he had the votes he needed. Tomorrow, I don’t think he will.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Licinius ran the meeting the next day in the Senate. When he gave the floor to his co-consul, Scipio made a major concession by addressing Fabius’ concern about the cost of his plan. Should the Senate grant him permission to go to Africa, he would not request any money from the treasury for the new ships he would need nor for his soldiers’ pay. His army, he said, would be all volunteers, drawn to his campaign by the potential for enormous plunder in Carthage. Licinius then put the matter to a vote.

  The vote was close. Scipio’s promise not to dip into the treasury was a surprise and may have been the deciding factor. Scipio was granted the province of Sicily, but was given no army. He would have the use of the thirty warships already in Syracuse. He would be allowed to raise a volunteer army, and to the wild approval of the audience, he also had permission to cross to Africa—if he judged it to be in Rome’s interest.

  Even without the troops, this amounted to a huge victory for Scipio, and really a victory for Roman unity, as an ugly confrontation between the Senate and a stubborn but popular consul was avoided. Licinius was given the province of southern Italy and two legions to command. Caecilius Metellus, the previous consul, would join Licinius in Bruttium, also with two legions. They would be charged with keeping Hannibal in the south.

  Afterward I waited outside the Curia for Marcus. I expected him to be in good spirits. I was standing on the perimeter of the comitium when I saw him come out. He was with Scipio. I could see that they were talking.

  Marcus saw me and came my way. Scipio remained at his side. I had never met the man. Marcus introduced me. As determined and full of himself as he had been on the floor of the Senate, he seemed quite charming up close.

  “My friend Claudius Nero speaks highly of you, Timon,” said Scipio as though we were equals. “I hope you remember the note I sent you after Marcellus’ funeral.”

  It had been two years. His note had asked me to be his mapmaker if he went to Africa. I had received the note at a time when many other things were on my mind. I had never even mentioned it to Marcus. “Yes, of course, Consul, I remember. I was honored that you would contact me at all.”

  Scipio smiled, a genuine, confidant smile. “The time has come,” he said. “Will you come to Sicily with me? I will need a mapmaker in Africa.”

  I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I had little interest in reenlisting in the army. With too much spinning through my head—my mother’s health, returning to Sicily, the grind of military life—I looked to Marcus.

  Marcus grinned and put a hand on my shoulder. “If you plan to make a career of making maps, this is the opportunity of a lifetime. Take it. Think of the reputation you will have should Scipio defeat Hannibal.”
r />   “When I defeat Hannibal,” said Scipio with irresistible confidence.

  “My mother is ill, Consul. I must make arrangements for her before I can make a commitment.”

  Marcus interrupted. “Her arrangements are already made. She is welcome in my home for as long as you are gone. Nowhere else could she get better care.”

  Scipio smiled and nodded as though it were already decided.

  I bowed my head, trying to gather my thoughts. How had my life become so entangled in ebb and flow of the war? Something about it seemed unavoidable, predestined. I lifted my eyes to Marcus’, then turned to Scipio. “I would be honored, sir. When do I report?”

  “Tomorrow. Mars Field. Daybreak.”

  CHAPTER 30

  I arrived at Mars Field in time to watch the sun rise over the walls of Rome. Many thousand Roman citizens were already there. The situation reminded me of my first spring in Rome when I served as a scribe for Marcellus while he raised and trained two new legions of Roman recruits at Mars Field.

  The day began with the obligatory religious rituals. The chickens were fed and they ate with vigor. Both consuls sacrificed a bull outside the Temple of Mars, then went inside the temple cella and, as all new consuls did, shook the spear held by the statue inside.

  Licinius was there to put together two new legions of recruits. Scipio, because of his bold promise to build his army without assistance from the Roman treasury, did not have permission to raise troops from the Roman citizenry, as was the usual process. His army would have to be volunteers from existing Roman troops or from Roman allies. He had been given the thirty warships already stationed in Syracuse, but any additions to his fleet would also have to come from donations made by allies or from his personal resources.