Zama

by Dan Armstrong

  “Does that mean I’m a nobody?”

  Both of his eyes focused on me. “It means telling you is the same as telling myself.”

  CHAPTER 77

  Sophonisba was one week into the two-week voyage from Carthage to Siga. She and her attendants occupied the captain’s quarters of a large Carthaginian warship. Four more ships served as their escort. The small fleet traveled only during daylight and never when the seas were rough. The ships beached on the shore each night and embarked again when the sun came up.

  The captain’s quarters were luxurious even by a queen’s standards, but Sophonisba, who was bringing Felicia to Siga to buoy her spirits, could not have been unhappier. Seeing Masinissa had disturbed her badly. She had succeeded in pushing his memory out of her mind during the early months of her marriage because their one encounter only made him a fantasy, nothing more. But since seeing Masinissa on her balcony, and knowing that he had risked his life to be there, she could not get him out of her mind. When Syphax had come to the house in Megara, she struggled to give herself to the man at all. She even thought that was why Syphax had sent her away so suddenly. She had no idea that Nycea had revealed her secret to the king.

  The weather was so mild during the eighth day of the voyage, the captain decided to continue westward after the sun had gone down. Once before, on very calm seas, he had elected to extend the day at sea. This evening was no different. With the sun down and only the slightest breeze, standing on the deck was more pleasant than at any other time during the voyage. Sophonisba, escorted by Nycea, Gaia, Zanthia, and two Carthaginian guards, climbed to the bow to escape the melancholia that had overtaken her in the captain’s quarters.

  A waning moon hung in the night sky to the east. The stars, never more glorious than at sea, turned the heavens into a luminous mist that sparkled on the sea like a rolling carpet of diamonds. Sophonisba filled her lungs with the sea air and tried to lift herself from the shadow of her marriage. She stared down at the sea, watching the prow of the ship cut through the water spooling with phosphorescent sea creatures. She forced the thoughts of Masinissa from her head and reminded herself why she had married and how she must comport herself. The marriage was politics. Her body and mind must be focused on the security of Carthage and her people, and if that meant she must regain her passion in the king’s bed, she would.

  Desiring some time alone, Sophonisba went aft to her cabin with the guards, allowing her three slaves more time to enjoy the beautiful evening on the bow. Gaia and Nycea barged into the captain’s quarters a short time later, hysterical and babbling over top of each other.

  “What’s happened? One at a time. Where’s Zanthia?”

  Nycea, older than Gaia by two years, blurted it out as Gaia cried. “Zanthia fell overboard!”

  Sophonisba gasped, then bolted from the cabin to the deck. Her two slaves and the two guards outside the cabin raced after her. When they caught up with her, she was at the stern of the ship, tears running from her eyes, staring into the black sea looking for any sign of her closest friend. She screamed at the guards to get the captain. When the captain appeared, Sophonisba demanded he turn the ship around to look for her handmaiden. The captain fought her request briefly, saying the woman was only a slave. Sophonisba erupted into greater fury and threatened to have him stripped of his command.

  Unable to deny the orders of a queen whose husband meant so much to the Carthaginian war effort, the captain ordered the ships to reverse direction. With Sophonisba darting from one side of the ship to the other looking for Zanthia, they plied the waters deep into the night, never finding any sign of her.

  When the ships finally beached for the night, Sophonisba collapsed on her bed in tears, beside herself with grief. How could she ever tolerate life with Syphax without her beloved Zanthia. The young queen dropped deeper into the depression that was her political task to disguise.

  CHAPTER 78

  The meetings between Syphax and Marcus Ralla advanced through two more rounds of discussion. With each exchange, the two sides appeared to get closer to a settlement. This greatly pleased Syphax. He wanted no part of war in Africa. He had already doubled the size of his kingdom and had only two other immediate desires—to kill Masinissa and to spend more time in his palace with Sophonisba.

  Scipio, for his part, continued to make preparations to besiege Utica. “Just in case the talks should stall,” he told his staff. He had five thousand men in the hills overlooking the city, thirty warships barricading its harbor, and a moat dug across the front of the city fortifying a position outside the city gates. All of this was part of an elaborate deception. Although he had told no one else, Scipio had no intention of besieging Utica should the talks fail. He had something much more incendiary in mind than a siege.

  Shortly after the ides of March, Scipio received his orders from Rome. The consuls for the three hundred and sixth year of the Roman Republic, and the sixteenth of the war, were Servilius Caepio and Servilius Geminus. Little had changed in the last year. Caepio was sent to Bruttium to replace Publius Livinius and continue putting pressure on Hannibal. Geminus was sent to Etruria to prevent Mago from going south and joining his brother. Scipio, with renewed support in the Senate, was given the province of Africa for another year. It was exactly what he wanted, and upon learning this, he sent Marcus Ralla to Syphax’s camp with orders not to return until a settlement was agreed upon.

  When Ralla delivered this message, Syphax believed that a deal was close at hand and that Scipio wanted peace as much as he did. After two full days of discussion with Ralla, Syphax invited Hasdrubal to join the discussion, and an agreement was reached that, it appeared, both sides could accept. Syphax was elated. Ralla returned to the Roman camp thinking his work was done and made his report to Scipio. Scipio told Ralla that he needed the Senate’s approval to sign the documents. Three weeks later, Scipio, without having sent any kind of notice to the Senate, called Ralla to headquarters.

  “This agreement is fine with me, Tribune, but the Senate has rejected it.”

  “After all this time and discussion, sir?”

  “I understand, Tribune, however, it’s out of my hands. Go back to the Numidian camp and tell Syphax that I have conferred with the Senate. They seek a larger tribute payment and demand that the Carthaginian navy be reduced to thirty ships.”

  “But sir, those are issues we’ve already discussed. The Carthaginians are sure to refuse.”

  Scipio nodded. “That could be, but there can be no agreement without the Senate’s consent, and without those changes, the Senate won’t sign on.”

  Ralla reluctantly returned to Syphax’s camp. Syphax, expecting acceptance of the agreement, was dumbfounded. Still he presented Hasdrubal with the suggested changes. Insulted, Hasdrubal immediately called off any further talks. Marcus Ralla was sent back to Scipio with no agreement. That night, Scipio requested I prepare a map of the area around Utica. He asked me to include our camp as well as the Numidian and Carthaginian camps, plus all the information that had been collected about those camps during the failed negotiations. He wanted the map by noon the next day.

  The following morning, Scipio ordered his officers to step up preparation for the siege of Utica. At noon that day, he called a special meeting of his staff, which included Lucius, Laelius, Cato, Marcus Ralla, and Masinissa. I was there to take notes.

  “I have decided on a change of plans,” said Scipio to his officers. “And repeat nothing of what I’m about to say except to those soldiers who are part of the operation.”

  Scipio gave his staff a moment to absorb this, then continued. “I had a dream last night in which my father came down from the heavens and spoke to me about the destiny of Rome. He showed me a vision of our enemy’s camps leaping with flames and the soldiers running from the exits with their clothing on fire. I didn’t know what it meant until I awoke this morning.” He made eye contact with each of the officers before him. “We are going to raid the two enemy camps tonight.”

/>   “Tonight?” asked Cato.

  “Tonight,” repeated Scipio. “I know that’s not the usual Roman practice, but the circumstances are also not usual. In the next month, we are certain to enter into a pitched battle with the troops across the way. We are greatly outnumbered, and they have us pinned on the tip of this promontory. In my opinion, the circumstances tremendously favor our enemy. Tonight we will do something to better our odds.”

  Again he gave his staff a moment to let this settle in, then he continued. “We have learned from Marcus Ralla’s trips to the Numidian camp that the soldiers of both enemy armies have chosen to build their shelters out of wood or woven reeds. They have been in place almost six months now and are sufficiently dry to be little more than thatch and tinder. After the trumpets for the night watch, we will send the Fifth legion, under the joint command of Laelius and Masinissa, to the Numidian camp and the Twenty-third legion, under my command, to the Carthaginian camp. There will be no moon tonight, so it will be especially dark.” He looked directly at Laelius, then his brother. “My plan is to set fire to both camps.”

  Cato stepped forward. “Sir, do you mean that after three months of talks, you’re simply going to discount all honor and burn down the enemy camps? That’s goes against all that is Roman. Have you been infected with the local waters and become a Carthaginian? Our duty is to stand and face them like true Romans.”

  “They rejected our offer, Quaestor. Whatever hope we might have had for peace is gone. Our duty is to conquer the enemy, not to prove that we are more honorable than they are. Is your memory so short that you have forgotten that Hannibal used one trick after another to destroy our armies in Italy? I see nothing different here.”

  “But you’re stooping to their level—even lower.”

  “They have established the rules of engagement, and from my reading of Hannibal’s actions, the Carthaginians have no rules. We will proceed in the same way.”

  Although Masinissa seemed to be excited by the idea, several of the other officers agreed with Cato. “Sir,” asked Marcus Ralla, “were we truly sincere in our efforts to reach an agreement with the Carthaginians?”

  “And the preparations for besieging Utica,” followed Lucius, “have they all been for show?”

  Scipio turned away without answering either question and directed the officers’ attention to the map I had only recently completed. They gathered around the table as Scipio pointed out the important details of each camp—the exits, the locations of the officers’ tents, and the horse corrals. When he was finished, he dismissed all of them but Masinissa.

  After the last of the officers had filed out of the tent, Scipio asked Masinissa for his opinion.

  Masinissa grinned. “I think it’s brilliant, sir. War is not a moral act. We butcher. We rape. Every higher principle is discarded. We can eliminate their entire army tonight. What more could a general want?”

  Scipio seemed tense. I believe there was an element of what he planned to do that went against his own ethics just as much as they went against Cato’s.

  “Exactly,” said Scipio. “I have assigned you to the Numidian camp because you are familiar with their ways. Laelius will listen to you. Don’t hesitate to express your thoughts.”

  “I’m honored by your trust in my judgment, General, and I admire your daring.”

  CHAPTER 79

  The Fifth and Twenty-third legions slipped out of our camp shortly after dark. I was not part of the mission. The two enemy camps were seven miles from our camp and a mile apart. The legion led by Masinissa and Laelius set up a position near Syphax’s camp, while Scipio made ready for an attack on Hasdrubal’s.

  Masinissa and Laelius split their legion into two parts. Masinissa arranged his twenty-five hundred men to cover the gates. Laelius took the same number to act as a second line. At Masinissa’s signal, two hundred naptha-coated torches were lit and thrown into the camp. The camp may as well have been built to be a bonfire. The huts that were struck by torches burst into flames. Fanned by the offshore wind, the fire leapt from one hut to the next with such speed that the conflagration exploded across the camp.

  The first Numidians to awaken thought the fire had been started by accident. They ran through the camp shouting for immediate evacuation. The soldiers rushed from their huts only partly-dressed and without their swords or armor. The camp had only two gates. Both became blocked by the number of men pushing and shoving to get out. The confusion increased to utter hysteria. Those fortunate enough to fight their way through the gates were met by Masinissa’s troops and cut down. The rout was on.

  Scipio, a mile away, had yet to attack. He watched from a distance as the Carthaginian camp came to life with news of the fire across the way. Again, the soldiers, never suspecting that Scipio would stage a night attack, thought the fire was an accident. Many of them wandered out of the camp in small unarmed clusters to stand and watch the fire.

  At this point Scipio attacked, cutting down those outside the camp and tossing flaming torches within. The scene was a repeat of the first attack. The individual fires soon roared into a single blaze. Those who had not already left the camp now raced for the gates. The Carthaginian camp had four gates, but that was still not enough. Frantic men piled into snarls at the exits, trampling or smothering each other in their hurry to get out. Those who broke free met the stabbing, cleaving gladii of Scipio’s men. The slaughter doubled in ferocity.

  The night filled with the screams of burning men, some stuck within the camp, some running off in all directions their clothing and hair on fire. Horses and mules, some aflame, some not, raced around in circles adding to the confusion. The men who understood what was happening fought through the flames and half-burned bodies to get to their weapons. But then there was no way out.

  Scipio and his troops remained at the site until daybreak revealed the smoldering desolation of their night’s work. Scorched corpses, human and animal, littered the ground for miles around. The smell of burnt flesh and char carried on the wind all the way to our camp. Scipio estimated that more than fifty thousand men were killed that night. The only failure of the mission was that both Syphax and Hasdrubal escaped with contingents of cavalry. Hasdrubal headed to Carthage for refuge; Syphax went inland for protection in the hills. Less than ten thousand others survived. The Roman casualties were in the double digits. It was a tremendous victory. Our camp celebrated as one that afternoon.

  In headquarters, Scipio stalked from one side of the tent to the other, fighting with his conscience. I was there as were Laelius and Lucius.

  Scipio suddenly stopped his pacing and faced his closest advisors. “Well, was it worth it?”

  Neither man answered.

  “Was that any different than Lake Trasimene?” snapped Scipio. “Should I be filled with glory or unable to face myself? Am I a bold general or a monster?”

  Lucius dared to respond. “It was brutal, brother. But there was nothing that we did that doesn’t mirror the nature of this war from its first day. War is no longer a noble endeavor. War is only victory or defeat. The victor can describe his methods in any way he likes. We all know how Hasdrubal infiltrated our father’s Spanish allies and convinced them to turn on him and our uncle. That’s why you saw our father in your dream two nights ago. He was telling you war has changed.”

  Scipio shook his head. “I hope you’re right, Lucius. I hope you’re right.”

  “It was quite a sight, sir,” said Laelius. “And we have delivered a killing blow. I suspect the agreement they just rejected will look awfully good to them tomorrow.”

  Scipio nodded. “And if not, there will be increased pressure for Hannibal to return to Africa.”

  To the outside world, Scipio appeared to be a man of the highest honor and the most noble intentions. Like Marcellus, he had a huge ego and even more ambition. Also like Marcellus, he sought the glory of defeating Hannibal. At this time in Rome’s history, nothing meant more than that. Were I to compare the two men, I would say that M
arcellus was superior to Scipio. But I was biased. Marcellus had saved my life then allowed me to live with his family. But more importantly, Marcellus seemed to be a man of higher integrity. What he said he meant. Deception was not his way. Scipio was considerably more complex, with people and with his command. Since showing him the spyglass, I had realized I didn’t wholly trust him. I even wondered if the dream he described to his staff was a fabrication, used as a way to legitimize his unRoman tactics. Yes, he was a great general, comparable to Marcellus for his courage and attention to detail. But Marcellus was a soldier, simple and true. Scipio was an intellectual, a man of education and subtlety, who often hid his motives from others. That was the reason I had yet to tell Scipio about the weapon designs I had found in the warehouse on the island of Ortygia. I still didn’t trust the man.

  During the meeting just described, however, Scipio did raise himself in my estimation when he revealed some measure of remorse for using fire to destroy the enemy’s camps. Not that I felt the attacks were wrong. I felt they were justified for the same reasons Scipio did. This was what Marcellus had said to Marcus years earlier. The rules of engagement had changed since Hannibal’s invasion of Italy. I was simply heartened by the fact that Scipio did have a conscience and that he was capable of second-guessing himself.

  CHAPTER 80

  Taking advantage of the complete absence of Carthaginian troops, Scipio spent the next three days plundering the nearby villages. When the ravaging was over, he distributed the booty among his men to reward them for the successful destruction of the enemy camps. He then refocused his efforts on the siege of Utica without fear of being pinned up against its walls by an opposing army.

  Within a day of dispensing the booty, a caravan of dealers, slave traders, and pickers, just like those that followed the armies in Italy, set up shop outside our camp. As quaestor Cato sold all the prisoners that had been captured to the traders. The soldiers exchanged the assorted goods they had received for gold and silver coins. Large numbers of them immediately sought out the swarm of prostitutes who trailed after the caravan.