In Carthage, the government met to discuss – and almost immediately decided to reject – the arrogant impositions of the tyrant of Syracuse. Himilco was once again appointed to the supreme command and charged with waging war using every means possible. Word of Dionysius’s preparations had reached them, and their greatest fear was that after conquering Sicily, he would attempt to land in Africa. He had to be destroyed before he became too dangerous.
In the meantime, the Italian allies had arrived in Syracuse, while the Rhegines and Messanians were maintaining an attitude that alternated between indifference and hostility. It was feared that Rhegium might even ally with Carthage, if that’s what it took to humiliate Syracuse’s hateful dynast.
Everything was ready: two hundred battle ships, including thirty quinqueremes fresh from the dockyards, all under Leptines’s orders. Standing proud at the bow of the Boubaris, he reviewed the immense fleet that was weighing anchor to sail for Drepanum, in western Sicily. The fleet was followed by five hundred transports carrying food, water and the yet-to-be-assembled parts of the new siege machines.
The ground force was made up of forty thousand foot soldiers and three thousand horsemen, and the fleet carried nearly as many. Among them were many of the survivors of Selinus, Acragas and Himera, and the refugees from Gela and Camarina.
None of them had forgotten.
Dionysius addressed the arrayed troops after having mustered all of them at the city’s western gate. ‘Men!’ he shouted. ‘Sicilians and Italians of the Hellenic cities of the West! The moment of revenge has finally come. Much time has passed, nearly ten years, from the days in which you saw your cities die, your children butchered, your wives raped and killed!’ His voice seemed to crack as he said those last words. ‘I promised many of you then that I would bring you back home, that I would rebuild your cities, that I would avenge your dead.
‘I would have done this long before now, believe me! I know well what you went through, because my flesh and my blood have borne the same pain. I was the first to come to the aid of the Selinuntians, I was at Himera and at Acragas and I suffered bitter defeat at Gela, not by my own fault, but through the adversity of fortune and the perfidy of treason.
‘Those of you who were then twenty are now thirty, those of you who were thirty then are now forty, but I’m certain that your hatred and your thirst for vengeance have never abated over all these years. I know that you will fight without sparing your strength. I know that once you take up your shields and your swords, nothing will stop your onslaught.
‘This is not a war like any other. It is not like the bloody conflicts that have been fought between brothers out of narrow-minded rivalry, out of selfish commercial interests. This is the war of Greeks against barbarians, like at Marathon, like at Thermopylae and like Salamis. Like at Himera, at Cumae eighty years ago! All of Sicily will be Greek, as is right and just. It was our ancestors who reached this land from beyond the sea, who created marvellous cities, who opened harbours and markets, who planted olive trees and sowed wheat, who raised glorious temples to the gods. These temples have been sacked and destroyed, the tombs of our ancestors profaned, our families devastated, our children sold into slavery.
‘Enough now! The day that I promised you has come. Unleash your rage, men, remember what you’ve suffered, remember the cries of your violated women, remember the torment of your children, cut down on the streets and in your homes, their throats slit in the cradle . . . Avenge your honour!
‘We will not stop until the last of our enemies has been thrown into the sea, until the hateful race that has destroyed our cities has been completely annihilated.
‘I will be at your side, marching with you, I will be eating the same food and facing the same hardships and I swear to you, upon the infernal gods and upon my most sacred memories, that I will have no peace until I have brought this undertaking to conclusion, even if it should cost me my life!’
A roar greeted Dionysius’s words, the din of spears rhythmically, obsessively pounded against bronze shields.
But he signalled that he had more to say and the uproar died down until there was silence.
‘The barbarians employ,’ he thundered, ‘a handful of Greek traitors, mercenaries who have decided to combat against their own blood in exchange for money. I say to them: “Abandon your masters, join us as free men and redeem your shame. If you do not do so now, your punishment will be horrible, much worse than what we have in store for the barbarians. Beware, for here we come!”’
At the sound of these words, which were evidently meant as a signal, bugles blared and drums rolled to sound their departure and to mark their marching rhythm.
The great army surged forward between two wings of Syracusan citizens and inhabitants of the inland cities, who had come from everywhere to witness this superb spectacle. Dionysius rode a black horse identical to the one he had mounted in his first battle against the Carthaginians; he advanced at the head of the army covered by shining armour, flanked by Aksal and by his father-in-law Hipparinus riding a glossy-maned bay.
Behind him were three thousand horsemen lined up five-across, and behind them the heavy line infantry, divided by city, each group carrying its own standard and insignia, amidst a storm of applause and cheers.
Alongside the column, the naval squadron paraded on the foaming waves, led by the gigantic quinqueremes that ploughed through the sea with their huge three-rammed rostrums, each point sharp as a spear’s tip.
Himilco realized immediately that this was a challenge to the death, and his first move was to try to force Leptines’s fleet to turn back and defend Syracuse. He mounted a night assault with a dozen light ships on the Laccius port and the docks. They arrived completely unexpected, set fire to the shipyards and the vessels under construction and attempted an assault on the Ortygia fortress, but the Peloponnesian mercenaries remaining on guard at the stronghold reacted with great courage and determination and forced them to retreat. The Syracusans promptly sent a fast galley to notify Leptines that the enemy had been repulsed and that they did not require assistance.
Dionysius had in the meantime reached the place from which he planned to launch the attack on Motya. The fortified Carthaginian city stood on an island at the centre of the bay of Lilybaeum and was connected to the mainland by a long causeway. This causeway had been built in a north-south direction so as not to interfere with navigation in the lagoon surrounding the island, and as soon as the inhabitants of Motya heard that enemy forces were on their way, they began demolishing it to disallow access to their walls.
Between the bay of Lilybaeum and the open sea was another long island with a curious shape that had given it its name of ‘Goat Shin’. It was separated from the mainland by two narrow straits. Entering the lagoon around Motya was relatively easy from the southern straits, where the depth of the sea was sufficient to allow the passage of big warships, but it was practically impossible from the north, where the water was too shallow, with shoals and sandbanks that only the local Phoenician and Carthaginian sailors knew about.
Leptines stopped at Drepanum, the port of Eryx, a city north of Motya peopled by the Elymians, who were in the habit of welcoming anyone they were incapable of fighting off. There he divided the fleet into two parts: the transports were anchored much further south, near the promontory of Lilybaeum, while the war vessels entered the lagoon and were moored near the northern promontory, not very far from the start of the causeway that connected Motya to Sicily, which the Motyans had already partially demolished.
Dionysius assigned the navy the task of rebuilding the causeway and assembling the siege machines, while he himself – at the head of the ground troops – moved east to invade the territory of Panormus and Solus, laying waste to the countryside and sacking the farms. He tried as well to storm the Elymian cities of Segesta and Entella, also allied with Carthage, but did not succeed. He thus decided to return to Motya and take command of the operations personally.
In the meantime H
imilco, who was cruising offshore, was kept constantly informed of the progress achieved by the Motyan defenders. He learned that Leptines had beached his ships in order to put their crews to work rebuilding the causeway, and he decided the time was ripe to launch his fleet into an attack.
He met up first with the transports in the Lilybaeum area and sank a good number of them, but in so doing ruined the element of surprise. Leptines was informed of the approach of the enemy fleet and sounded the alarm to muster his sailors. The ships were swiftly towed back into the water and the crews managed to take their places on board before Himilco could fall upon them.
Leptines sent out a couple of light reconnaissance craft, and the news they brought back cheered no one. ‘They are fanned out with their bows pointed north and they’ve closed off the southern mouth of the lagoon. We’re trapped,’ reported the scouts.
‘Not yet,’ replied Leptines. ‘Where’s my brother?’
‘The commander is at headquarters.’
‘Take me there.’
Leptines lowered himself into the dinghy towed by the Boubaris and raced to their headquarters at the mouth of the northern straits to report on the situation.
Dionysius darkened. ‘I would have kept a contingent of the fleet outside this blasted lagoon. Now what do we do?’
‘We’ll launch the quinqueremes and split them in two.’
‘No, we won’t. That’s exactly what they want. They’ve drawn us into this swamp to make it impossible for us to use our numerical superiority to advantage. I don’t want to risk our new units in such a disadvantageous situation. The quinqueremes need space to manoeuvre.’
‘You’re telling me? I’m the commander of the fleet!’ burst out Leptines.
‘And I’m the commander-in-chief! Have you forgotten that?’ shouted Dionysius even louder. ‘Why is it that you always have to charge with your head down like a bull? One wrong move and we are all fucked. Don’t you remember how things went in Gela? It was all preordained, all planned, and in the end we lost. We have the biggest fleet and the biggest army that the Greek nation has ever put together: we cannot fail, understand?’ He continued as if speaking to himself, fretting: ‘It had to happen just now that the causeway was almost ready . . .’
‘Well, let’s hear how you think you’ll get out of this one, hegemon,’ shot back Leptines, giving the title an ironic twist, ‘seeing that there’s no way out to the north; if any of the ships runs aground, the others will be shut off.’
Dionysius pondered his words for a while, then said: ‘We’ll go overland.’
‘What?’
‘That’s right. We’ll build a slide, grease it well and drag the ships over it one by one, until we can lower them into the sea on the other side of the promontory.’
Leptines shook his head. ‘And that seems like a good idea to you? We’ll only be able to put one ship at a time into the sea. If the Carthaginians realize what we’re up to, they’ll sink them one by one as soon as they put out to sea.’
‘No, they won’t,’ replied Dionysius. ‘Because they’ll find a surprise waiting for them.’
‘A surprise?’
‘Have a screen of wicker and branches built along the shore of the open sea, three hundred feet long and twenty tall. You’ll see.’
The project was begun immediately: as a group of sailors raised the screen, hundreds of carpenters set to work building the slip, two parallel guides made of pinewood beams, which crossed over the promontory from the shore of the lagoon to the open sea on the other side. Others melted pig fat and ox tallow in huge cauldrons to spread over the guides to ease sliding. The ships were positioned on the slide and then dragged over it with ropes, each ship by its own crew, with five hundred men on each side.
Construction of the slip was not visible from Motya but, when the ships began to be towed over the promontory, the sentries realized what was happening and sent news to Himilco that the mouse was fleeing the trap. The Punic admiral gave orders to man the oars and hoist the sails; they would advance in a northern direction and sail around Goat Shin island. This would keep them shielded until the last moment so that by the time the Syracusans saw them, it would be too late.
From the flagship, Himilco signalled for his ships to act in concert and stay together, so that the impact with the enemy fleet would be massive and synchronous. When the Syracusan warships finally came into sight, Himilco could count them: about sixty, making the ratio very favourable for him. He would destroy those, then go ashore and destroy the slip. At this point he would be free to blockade any ships which had been left behind in the lagoon, forcing them to rot or fight.
Having rounded the northern tip of the island, he turned sharply starboard towards the coast, and, when he was at a suitable distance, ordered the drummers to set a ramming tempo. At that point, the Syracusan ships, whose bows were turned west, put to starboard as if to make their way north, and Himilco mirrored the move. In doing so, his ships exposed their flanks to the coast, where a strange structure had now become perfectly visible: a sort of screen made of reeds, matting and even ship’s sails. And then the unforeseeable occurred: the screen fell, segment after segment, revealing a long line-up of mechanical monsters never before seen, missiles already in place, manned by dozens of artillerymen in combat position. A bugle sounded and, one after another, the enormous engines went into action. Himilco’s fleet was inundated by a hail of projectiles launched by the catapults. The ballistas, which had been adjusted to aim low, let loose a swarm of massive iron darts that broke through the keels under the waterline and swept away the decks, sowing death and terror. The machines had been timed for alternating launches: first the ballistas and then the catapults, as the former were reloading.
Meanwhile, the Syracusan vessels which had been pulled across the promontory put about in a wide circle to create a ramming formation. Leptines was, instead, still in the lagoon and headed south; he swiftly succeeded in breaking through the southern straits, overwhelming the meagre forces left there to garrison the outlet. His thirty quinqueremes, followed by the other ships, set out to close Himilco’s fleet in their trap.
The Carthaginian admiral, who had been warned by signals from the Motyans, put about, escaping the deadly attack of the artillery and put out to sea, just barely escaping entrapment between the contingents of Dionysius and Leptines.
Himilco thus abandoned Motya to her fate; such was the Carthaginians’ gratitude to those who had saved them from total disaster.
Cries of exultation exploded from the decks of the Greek ships and from the shore, where the formidable new siege engines had achieved such excellent results.
From the towers of Motya, the city’s defenders watched in anguish as the Carthaginian fleet disappeared at the horizon while, on the opposite side, the huge machines that had sent their enemy running were being dragged to the causeway, which now once again connected the mainland to their island. They knew they would all die. It was only a question of time.
One clean, clear morning at the end of the summer, after a night of wind, Dionysius gave orders to attack, and the siege engines lumbered down the causeway, squeaking and creaking.
The ballistas and catapults were the first to enter into action from the end of the causeway, targeting the city’s battlements and massacring her defenders. They were then hauled into position at the north of the island, where there was more room. There they were joined by the assault towers and battering rams.
The people of Motya knew full well what was in store for them. Many of them had taken part in the massacres of Selinus and Himera, and now they readied to defend their city to the last. They too had prepared a number of effective countermeasures. Long cantilevered planks were extended over the sides of the battlements from the wooden towers; caissons hanging from the ends of these boards held jars full of flaming naphtha and oil, which were hurled by the soldiers at the besiegers’ machines. The attackers reacted by covering the engines with newly-flayed skins, and put out any flames us
ing buckets of water passed from man to man with great speed.
The walls were battered by the siege machines for five consecutive days, until finally one of the rams succeeded in opening a breach on the north-east section of the wall. The assault towers came forward and gangplanks were lowered so the Greeks could rush through the opening and penetrate the city, but the Motyans were advantaged by their narrow maze of streets. They offered furious resistance, fighting with grim determination house by house, alley by alley, raising barricades and hurling anything that could serve as a missile from the tops of the buildings, which were three or four storeys high, practically as tall as the towers.
Combat became fiercer and bloodier as the days went on. The assaults began at daybreak, continued relentlessly the entire day, and stopped only when darkness fell, but despite these constant attacks, the besiegers made little progress. Within that tangle of winding streets, amidst the towering buildings, they could not make their numerical superiority and the power of their weapons work to their advantage.
In the end, Dionysius had an idea. He gathered the leaders of the Selinuntian, Himeran, Geloan and Acragantine refugees in his tent, along with his brother Leptines and the commander of the assault troops, his old friend Biton.
‘Men,’ he began, ‘the Motyans have become inured to our daily attacks and they have sufficient time at their disposal to set up new forms of resistance. Their barricades built in the city’s narrow streets between the high walls of the houses are practically insurmountable. The Motyans know to expect our attacks by day from the assault towers positioned at the only breach, because they know there isn’t sufficient room to position them at other points of the walls. We must surprise them . . .’
Tyrant Page 28
