Ally of Carthage

by Rob Edmunds

  Copyright © 2020 Rob Edmunds

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

  Whilst some of the characters in this story were real and influential, and some of the events described are documented, this is a work of fiction drawn from historical sources.

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  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

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  Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

  For the J’s

  Contents

  Historical Context

  The Promises We Make to Lovers

  Games Without Frontiers

  The Art of Throwing

  Ari’s doll

  The Crucible

  A Father’s Love

  Nemesis

  Angels

  Operation Iberia Freedom

  Nosejob

  When the Worst is Yet to Come

  The Art of Persuasion

  Guerrilla

  Historical Context

  The story begins in 2013 BC in Carthage, which has been Masinissa’s home for several years. He is the heir to the throne of the neighbouring Numidian kingdom of Massyli. His father, Gala, is an ambivalent ally of Carthage and bitter rival of Syphax, the king of the rival western Numidian kingdom of Masaesyli. Masinissa has been trained for war and tutored by the finest Greek scholars, and is widely regarded as an exceptional young man. He has also fallen in love with Sophonisba, the beautiful daughter of one of the most senior Carthaginian generals, Hasdrubal Gisco.

  In terms of the wider world, Rome and Carthage – the most powerful nations of the time – have been at war for five years, ever since Hannibal crossed the Alpine passes and inflicted catastrophic and crippling defeats on the Roman armies at the battles of Trebia, Lake Trasimene and, most devastatingly, at Cannae, where an army of nearly 90,000 Romans was completely destroyed.

  The war in Italy has subsequently petered out due initially to the evasive tactics of the senior Roman consul and occasional dictator – Fabius Maximus – who refused to engage Hannibal in open warfare, and later to a revival in their military fortunes, partially due to their excellence in siege tactics and the failure of the Carthaginians to forge extensive alliances with other Italian cities and territories.

  The main theatres of war at this moment are the Roman siege of the Greek city of Syracuse in Sicily – which is being innovatively and belligerently defended, not least by the philosopher and scientist Archimedes – and the war in Iberia, which is being prosecuted from the Carthaginian side by Hannibal’s brother Hasdrubal Barca and from the Roman side by the Scipio brothers, who are successfully preventing Hasdrubal sending reinforcements to Italy via the same route Hannibal had taken, and – in their turn – are threatening to attack North Africa with the support of Syphax.

  The Promises We Make to Lovers

  Masinissa had met Sophonisba at a banquet a couple of years earlier. He had been aware of the fact that she was a Carthaginian noble and from one of the most prominent families, but this had played no part in his attraction towards her. He had also been sensitive to his own place in society, and to the fact that his status as the heir to an important strategic ally would allow him greater access to her company and perhaps even her hand. His feelings for her, however, were entirely romantic and completely detached from her station in life. His heart still retained the simple impulses of his youth, and the moment he had set his eyes on her something was released, fluttered up to his throat, and he knew that this was the girl for him.

  He had heard and read many love stories, and often wondered when he might experience those depths of devotion. He knew, more usually from the older men and especially those who had returned from campaigns, of their yearning for their companions or wives. He knew he too would leave for the war at some point, and having the consolation of memories of shared moments with someone and the comfort of knowing that his well-being was in their thoughts and prayers was something he had long hoped for. He wanted the daydream to be there when that time came, to keep him going through the drudgery of long hours on horseback, and the imprinted face of a loved one to provide some kind of antidote to the horrors that he might see or inflict. The softness of Sophonisba’s face and the smile that would light up her eyes he hoped would have the power to wipe away the cries of the fallen.

  He knew she was a virgin. How could she be anything else but there was plenty about her to suggest that she had received all the necessary knowledge she required from her handmaidens. She moved with grace, but with an awareness of the most alluring parts of her body. She was naturally coquettish and in a way that suggested she had passed from being a mischievous, playful child to a woman of similar tendencies. Nothing appealed to Masinissa more in terms of a woman’s qualities, and he relished her company for the fun it provided, as well as the passionate charge her company immediately triggered. A woman who appealed to his manhood as well as his sense of mischief was, in his eyes, perfection itself. Every time she saw him, she would greet him with a misty and willing expression, knowing that she was instantly dazzling him with her mere presence.

  When he had first met her, he had trouble composing his body in ways that were unexpected for him. He was always controlled in his thoughts and movements, but her company had played havoc with his self-possession. His legs would betray him and feel as if they were treading in quicksand, and he would often break into a sweat that he would pass off as the after-effects of exercise. The most noticeable and embarrassing thing for him, though, had been an involuntary tremor in his hand. This was harder to conceal or explain, but Sophonisba had shown quickly her solicitous nature. Her touch would always immediately allay his anxiety. Most often, she would cup her hand or arm under his, and his tension would evaporate on the air. His blood and his breathing would restore themselves, and he became like a lion under a tree, lolling contentedly in his own power and affection.

  He recognised the extent of the spell he had fallen under by how preoccupied he was by her and how sharply defined certain moments became for him. It was often so pronounced that he could recall partial glimpses that had made his heart sing. He remembered a spring morning earlier in the year when he had spied her from a distance from a window overlooking a courtyard. He had looked at her back and her neck, and the light and shade that played through her hair as she walked further from the building where he furtively admired her. She was idly wandering between palm trees, carelessly swinging her arms, and he concentrated hard on her every movement trying to imprint it on his memory. He had succeeded. Sometimes, memories that become indelible are determined by fate and accident, and you come by them because of the ways they have impacted on you, usually in either very happy or sad ways. There are others, though, over which you are the director or you know at the time to hold s
till all your senses, to mark the moment as clearly as possible. It was as if his heart and mind were conspiring to let in what they wanted, and to keep the precious moment there and to cherish it.

  He had looked at her, not knowing anything other than his desires and his hopes were at that moment completely encapsulated by her receding form. Time had seemed to slow for him. The movements of her body and the expressions on her face were no different from those he had seen before and which would have been replicated very closely by any other woman of her age walking along the same avenue. However, the intentness of his gaze raised them to a different level for him. He was trying to preserve them somehow. It may have been a residual need of the youth that was falling away from him quickly or just a pessimistic realisation that he would not be able to look at her so easily in the future. The demands of the war that raged around them and an end to their innocence, both his as well as hers, made him aware of the transience of this perfection. He knew this blend of emotion, beauty and insouciance, at least on her part as she casually strolled away, was only ever fleeting. It was like a dance or a play by actors. Enjoy it for that moment but don’t expect an encore.

  There was also an element of mystery and anticipation in the memory and still in his evolving relationship with her. He knew that if they ever consummated their passion, the coquettish frisson that this and other moments held for him might be lost or changed. It was tied a little by her being separated from him. At the point when their courtship became fully consummated this distance would be shattered. It would be replaced then by more intimate memories, some of which would probably not be so easy to distil. The sexual moment is more urgent, and he couldn’t frame it so easily as he could from his window.

  Unlike many other women he encountered, who could often be quite bold in their manners, Sophonisba rationed her feminine wiles, with Masinissa never being quite sure whether her relative demureness was artful, ingenuous or some blend of the two. Regardless of her motivation, he did not feel the least compromised or emasculated by her. It was not as if her kisses were chaste. They were passionate and full, and, in those moments when she was in his arms, she devoured him to the extent to which she felt she was allowed. She wrapped him as tightly as anyone had. It seemed to Masinissa that she was very conscious of her own tipping points, and therefore the parcels of her body accessible to him were surrendered to him incrementally, with the implicit understanding that her most responsive parts would only be his fleetingly, enough to raise their excitement but not enough to break her virginal resolution.

  It was a comical anatomical journey. It had started with her hands, and then her mouth and neck. Her ears were unexpectedly delicate triggers, which he began to revel in increasingly. He felt that perhaps this sensitivity was a little due to the fact that, to shield herself from the sun Sophonisba, in common with most women of her class, wore a light veil most of the time, which framed her face but concealed her ears.

  Masinissa was a glutton for her responses. He loved her body for its shape and form, but he also treated it as a musician would treat his instrument. The way she would coo, and her muscles ease and contract, or her breathing or laughter alter were all part of the enjoyment for him. In his ardour, he was not of a mind to take from her but to give. If she was not responsive to his touch and kisses, his own passion would dissipate. Fortunately, for all her apparent chastity, Sophonisba was always pretty amenable to his embraces.

  In her own amorous arsenal, she had been blessed with the most exuberant mouth, possibly the most voluptuous part of her, which was, in itself, quite a statement to make. Around her mouth and in her eyes, it was easy to detect the absence of care or worries. The smoothness around both showed that the lines that stresses and exhaustion had etched into others had not blemished her. Not around her mouth were there signs of the worries or creases that were easy to notice in the faces of young widows, who found work where they could in the fields or the in the arcades of the marketplaces.

  Her eyes were simultaneously the most revealing and inscrutable part of her. Her eyelids had a prodigious range, capable when tired or thoughtful to be quite narrow, like those of some Bactrians he had seen. When excited, amused or inquisitive, however, her eyes would widen into saucers and gain a childlike quality which captivated him. He became highly attuned to this adjustment in her expression. He would treat it like an open door or a permission. He had her attention and interest then.

  At a distance, her eyes seemed like pools of obsidian which always drew him towards her. When he was closer or when the light shone directly on her eyes, it was possible to detect a very dark green colour in her irises, which was unusual for Carthaginians, but more common in Greek or Celtic people. She invariably drew attention to this feature through cosmetics, an art which she was obviously extremely proficient in. Masinissa enjoyed the fact that she would make frequent cosmetic alterations in her appearance, which was deliberate and enjoyable for them both. Some women he knew dressed purely for themselves, and others did so clearly to garner male attention. Sophonisba did both. She was livelier in her dress than most women he had encountered, and adorned herself, with her powders and her jewellery, in ways that showed her beauty and innate vivacity very well. She was also quite unapologetic about it, to the point of vanity. Some women insisted that wearing kohl was for the purpose of cleansing the eyes or protecting them from the sun’s harmful rays. Sophonisba was quite frank about the fact that, for her, it was all about lengthening her eyelashes and adding beauty to her eyes. She often went even further and wore a slight dab of malachite under her eyes, which drew out their deep green colour very attractively.

  Masinissa teased her whenever she went with this look. “Here comes my little Egyptian princess!” he would cry as she approached. This mild insult would rarely go unacknowledged, and he knew to brace himself for a little thump to his bicep, and a little mock flash of anger and scorn. Depending on his mood, he had often continued with the game and made a theatrical yelp or grimace, pretending that she had caused him the most painful injury, saying, “Oh Sophonisba, what are you doing? I think you may have broken my arm.”

  He soon realised the pointlessness of his protests. It only encouraged her to be more irrepressible with her blows. There was no way she would ever be cool or aloof with him. Her thumps were a part of their physical intimacy. Anyone passing or in their company would often smile, laugh or look at them knowingly or conspiratorially. A six-and-a-half-foot Adonis being pummelled and berated by a gamine, young girl was an incongruous sight, and one only explainable by the fact that the two must, in some way, be lovers. Neither minded such an exposure. As long as form and protocols were not breached, then it was likely that no one would interfere with them, beyond casting jealous looks at them, or talking about them in their villas and bathing houses.

  *

  That day, they were going to meet in the Byrsa, but neither had told the other where. It was part of a game they frequently played and their favourite spot to play it was within the cramped and narrow arcades of the citadel. It was a hide-and-seek game that they had refined over a period of months. The beach had proven a poor spot to hide at, even though, once discovered, it was a pleasant place to enjoy each other’s company. The port and harbour had been flawed as a location too. It was not the greatest location for play. There was constant loading of men and materials, and the general ambience of the place was not conducive to their intentions. The stevedores, soldiers and sailors were often short-tempered and envious of a happy, blithe couple cavorting around their workplace. Besides, hiding alone whilst waiting for your beau in a dockyard where there may be men alighting who had not seen an attractive woman for some time posed some serious dangers. They hadn’t really thought it through. The potential for mistaken identity for a painted, alluring woman at the port of Carthage was almost overwhelming.

  Sophonisba had to deflect quite a few suggestive and ribald comments from the dockers before she had been found
by Masinissa, and they were able to make their reasonably hasty retreat. There was a suspicion on the part of Masinissa that Sophonisba hadn’t minded this lewd attention one bit. It would have been much more probable for him to have found her in a state of distress or even tears. Instead, he found her holding her ground quite well. In fact, it might even have been said that the half a dozen men who had gathered around her and who were making quite indiscreet overtures towards her were, to a man, entranced by her and that she was savouring their attention as much as they would her breasts, in the implausible scenario that they could have agreed a price for her ravishment.

  The Byrsa it was, then. Besides its natural advantages for playing hide-and-seek, it also benefitted from being a location with a proximity to a host of sellers and merchants, who paraded goods from throughout the Carthaginian Empire and often from far beyond. Masinissa knew well, from his serendipitous discovery of silk, the exotic wares that could be procured by the persistent and lucky shopper. There was always a prize and a forfeit in his and Sophonisba’s games, and one that could be decided by another round of exploration added another degree of excitement to their adventure. Sophonisba, in particular, liked to be spoilt, and if he could contrive to lose the game, all the better. He knew that the real prize of the game was her gratitude.

  Within the Byrsa, there were so many places of concealment, and they both were well acquainted with enough of these to make discovery a prolonged affair. Both, too, ordinarily would spend a great deal of their time within its enormous fortified walls. The Carthaginians had taken care to ensure that everything they needed had been situated within their pretty-impregnable stronghold in the unlikely event of an attack or siege. The whole gamut of social and public life was to be found within it. The most prestigious school in the city was just off the small, central square, and Masinissa had spent many hours perfecting his Latin and Greek tenses there. There was a produce market, with particularly well-appointed vintners, whom Masinissa had become very familiar with; a warren of a bazaar that occupied a large precinct of its own; an amphitheatre where many of the most urgent debates of the day were voiced; a sumptuous spa and baths where Masinissa had enjoyed soaking away many of his post-exercise aches and pains; the senate buildings themselves; extensive stables for horses and elephants; and barracks, mostly unoccupied, for troops who would be charged with defending this last fortress of Carthage. There were also towers and defensive fortifications along many of the walls, particularly those facing the ocean, and many of these had ballistas and other siege equipment in situ. Five years of war and fluctuating fortunes had made for a pessimistic preparedness in the heart of the city. Finally, there were the gold-inlaid temples to Baal Hammon, Tanit and Melqart, the last of which was an occasional refuge for Masinissa in those moments when he sought consolation or guidance.