“Got a bet to place, Timon?” asked Rullo, who had hunted up the scorpions and brought them back to the camp to add some spice to the celebration.
Troglius reached up from his prone position to touch me on the shoulder and offer a weak smile. “I’m betting on the big one.”
I gladly accepted a cup of wine from Aurelius, threw a silver stater on top of Troglius’ stack of coins, then settled in to watch the scorpions, thankful for Rome’s victory, the significance of which wouldn’t settle in for another month or more.
CHAPTER 110
After we had buried our dead and packed our train with the plunder taken from Hannibal’s camp, we marched back to Utica, where fifty warships and a hundred transports had recently arrived.
Scipio wasted no time in following up his victory. He loaded the transports with booty and sent them off to Sicily escorted by twenty warships under Laelius’ command. Scipio then ordered Lucius to take our three legions and their accompanying allied troops to Carthage to establish the siege. Scipio set sail with the remaining thirty warships to blockade the harbor.
Upon reaching the harbor entrance, Scipio was greeted by a Carthaginian merchant ship hung with woolen fillets and olive branches. Ten of Carthage’s leading citizens were on board. When their ship came up alongside Scipio’s warship, the men called out to Scipio from the deck with praise for his victory, then asked for an opportunity to sue for peace. Scipio told them to meet him in Tunis in a week.
Scipio called off the siege and sailed for Tunis. He sent word to Lucius to meet him there instead of setting up camp outside Carthage. On the way to Tunis, Lucius learned that Syphax’s son, Vermina, had scoured the countryside to raise yet another army, determined to save the kingdom his father had lost. Vermina and his fifteen thousand men were headed to Carthage to intercept the Roman forces. Lucius turned south to meet Vermina’s army head-on. The ensuing battle matched a confident Roman army against a collection of Numidian rabble. The confrontation was a rout from the onset. Vermina escaped but his army was destroyed.
Lucius joined his brother in Tunis the same day the thirty envoys arrived from Carthage to confer with Scipio. Much as they had a year earlier, the envoys pleaded mercy and blamed the war on Hannibal, prostrating themselves before Scipio, kissing his feet in the oriental fashion of supplication. Although Cato demanded that Scipio besiege the city and strip it of its wealth, Scipio offered them terms for peace, beginning with a stern reprimand for breaking the previous truce, and ending with a much harsher agreement than the first. He doubled the indemnity and asked for one hundred hostages, children from the most powerful families in Carthage, to prevent any further treachery. The final terms of peace were as follows:
Return all prisoners, deserters, and runaway slaves without ransom
Withdraw all armies from Italy and Cisalpine Gaul
Cease all activities in Spain
Evacuate all of the islands between Spain and the Italian peninsula
Recognize Masinissa as the king of Numidia
Surrender the entire Carthaginian fleet except for ten triremes
Surrender all war elephants
Supply the Roman army with three months of food and pay the soldier’s remaining wages
Refrain from making war outside Africa except with Rome’s permission
Pay an indemnity of ten thousand talents of silver over a period of fifty years
The envoys returned to Carthage and presented the agreement to the Council of Elders. One elder stood before the Council and shouted them down, telling them that there was no way Carthage could accept such terms. Hannibal, who had returned to Carthage, rushed onto the floor and dragged the man from the podium. The elders erupted in anger at Hannibal. Such a display of force in the Council was against Carthaginian tradition. Had he been at war too long to be civilized?
Hannibal apologized for his actions, saying he had not been in Carthage since he was nine years old and that he was now forty-five. “Yes,” he continued, “it was wrong of me to break with custom, but it seems quite beyond my comprehension that anyone who is a citizen of Carthage and has full knowledge of the policies we have adopted against Rome, should not thank his lucky stars that we have obtained such lenient terms. I beg you to not even debate the question, but to declare your acceptance of the proposal unanimously, to offer up sacrifices to the gods, and to pray with one voice that the Roman people will ratify the treaty.”
The treaty was accepted. Envoys were sent to Scipio, then on to Rome for the final ratification of the agreement. The war was officially over. After sixteen brutal years of war, Hannibal’s daring attempt to conquer Rome had failed.
PART VIII
A TRIUMPH FOR SCIPIO
“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”
-Plato
CHAPTER 111
A month after Carthage agreed to the terms of the treaty, Scipio got word from Rome that the Senate had ratified the agreement. His work in Africa was done. The Sixth legion would remain in Africa; a second legion would come from Italy to join it. The Fifth and Twenty-third legions would accompany Scipio back to Lilybaeum. The Fifth, the Cannae survivors, could not return to Italy and would stay in Sicily. The Twenty-third would go on to Rome where Scipio would request a triumph.
Prior to leaving, Scipio gathered all the troops, Roman and allied, outside the camp in Tunis. He stood on a slight elevation before some thirty thousand men and thanked them all as a group.
“Many of you have been with me for four years,” he began. “We came to Africa with grand ambitions and many unanswered questions. We leave having accomplished all that we set out to do. We lured Hannibal back to Africa and defeated him, something no other Roman army had done in fifteen years of war. We have relieved the Roman people from a reign of terror, and at the same time crowned our Republic as the greatest in the world. We will return to Rome with a glory unmatched by the deeds of our ancestors, and a military tradition to be built upon by the generations to follow.”
The men let out a long sustained roar for Scipio. He raised his hands for silence and continued. “For me, all of this began eight years ago when I was twenty-five years old. The death of my father and my uncle during action in Spain dictated that I volunteer to take their place. Some of you have been with me since that time. The siege of Cartagena, the battle of Ilipa, the battle of Baecula, each step of the way was preparation for the invasion of Africa. But even with those successes, I struggled to get the support of our Senate. Two years were wasted in debate. Another was spent in Syracuse building an army from volunteers and outcasts—outcasts who became the backbone of our infantry!”
A cheer rose up from the survivors of Cannae and Herdonea. They knew Scipio had believed in them from the beginning, much as Marcellus had.
“While it’s unfair to single out any one man from an effort achieved by so many, I cannot take leave of Africa without acknowledging her greatest king.”
Masinissa stood at the front of the assembly with the rest of Scipio’s staff, including Laelius who had just returned from Sicily. Scipio motioned for the Numidian king to come forward. Masinissa climbed the slight incline to Scipio and kneeled before him.
“Masinissa, as a representative of the Roman people, I present you with these gifts as symbols of Rome’s appreciation.” A centurion behind Scipio handed him an ivory scepter and a beautiful purple toga embroidered with palm fronds. The Roman general placed the toga on Masinissa’s shoulders, then bid the king to stand.
“Your skill on a horse and as a cavalry captain are unmatched. No command was more important to our victories in Africa than yours. Rome owes you much for the success of this campaign.” Scipio embraced Masinissa then gave him the scepter. “With this ivory scepter Rome affirms your rule of Cirta and all the Maesulii ancestral lands, plus the city of Siga and all the territory that was once ruled by King Syphax.”
Masinissa pivoted to face the troops and received a roar of approval that ended only when he lifted his hand
s out of humility.
Scipio then called Lucius and Laelius forward. Both men had served with him since Cartagena. He spoke to their superior service throughout their time with him. He gave a large gold bowl to Lucius and a gold sword to Laelius. Several other soldiers were also honored for acts of courage during their time in Africa, but Scipio saved the best for last.
“One soldier deserves my special acknowledgment,” announced Scipio, raising his voice so that the soldiers in the very back could hear. “Four years ago, when we were in Syracuse, I wrongly punished this soldier to the edge of death for an action that was badly misunderstood, and yet this man never hesitated in his duty to Rome. The hastati who form our first line and must hold that line throughout each battle, theirs is the most grueling work on the battlefield. The soldier called Troglius, from the first maniple of the third cohort of the Twenty-third legion, embodies, in my mind, the ideal hastatus to which all should aspire. To him, I confer the Golden Crown, Rome’s highest award for bravery in combat, for defying defeat and being the anchor in the center of our line throughout this campaign. Come forward, Troglius.”
Troglius, head down, tilting from side to side as he walked, weaved through the formation up to the front. A centurion behind Scipio handed the general the golden crown.
“Kneel, Troglius.”
Troglius removed his helmet and knelt on one knee. Scipio placed the crown on his head. No roar of the day equaled that which followed. I cried as I cheered, thinking of that day I had found him in the doctor’s tent, his back ripped down to muscle by a flail. Nothing meant more to me than being able to call this man of so few words my friend.
I sought out Masinissa after the ceremony. He was leaving for Cirta the next morning. I would be sailing for Lilybaeum within the week.
“I’m surprised our general didn’t mention his map maker,” said Masinissa. We stood by ourselves looking out at the bay of Tunis. The sun had just settled below the horizon. The color of the sky matched the pink of a conch shell. A light breeze from the north carried the smell of the sea.
“What I do is certainly important, Masinissa, but it’s nothing compared to combat and what you must do. I’ve watched many battles and have the highest respect for the individual soldier, the man who puts his life on the line each time he marches from camp.”
Masinissa smiled. “But your maps probably saved more lives than any single soldier took.” He motioned to the spyglass at my hip. “And don’t forget. I want you to come back to Africa to map my kingdom—which is now all of Numidia.”
“Oh yes, I will come back, my friend, but I have two women to face. One to deny, the other to marry.”
Masinissa looked off. “Yes, be thankful you have such a choice.”
“I’m sorry, Masinissa, I shouldn’t have said that. I have been fortunate in love. You have not.”
Masinissa shook his head, sadly. “I didn’t feel you were boasting, Timon. The choices of kings are not those of joy, but of duty. At least I have one consolation many broken-hearted don’t. I had my honeymoon night with the one I loved. Without that, I could not say the name Sophonisba at all.”
I embraced him, and he pulled me close. I felt as though he were a brother to me. It would be an honor to return to Africa to map Numidia for him.
CHAPTER 112
Eighty transports escorted by fifty triremes sailed out of the Bay of Tunis past the fortress of Carthage, beginning the two-day voyage to Lilybaeum. I was on the flotilla’s lead ship. I had arranged for private quarters for my mother and me. It involved telling Scipio that my mother had been in Hannibal’s camp as a spy, and that she was the one who had given me the information that led to Claudius Nero’s historic march north. Scipio was stunned by this information, even more so when I told him that I had learned my mother was in Hannibal’s camp from Ennius.
Near noon on the second day of the voyage, I stood at the bow of the ship, staring off to the north, anxious for the sight of land. Off and on I would use the spyglass to scan the horizon in hopes of spotting some elevated portion of the island of Sicily. Scipio came up alongside of me and opened a conversation, not as a general to a scribe, but as a general to a valued advisor.
“I didn’t mention you the other day when I thanked the troops for their contribution to the campaign, but in some ways, you were as valuable as any man I had, even Masinissa.”
Though Masinissa had said something similar to me, I was surprised to hear this from Scipio. “Thank you for saying that, sir. You’re too kind.”
“No, not at all.” He looked at the spyglass in my hand. I handed it to him, and he used it to stare ahead into the distance.
“This viewing device cannot be overvalued. It’s absolutely remarkable.” He lowered the spyglass from his eye and touched me on the shoulder. “Your maps were a godsend to me, Timon. No thanks that I might give you would be equal to what I gained from your work. Did the maps or this spyglass defeat Hannibal? No. It was the determination of the Roman legionnaire who was willing to give his life for Rome. But for a man like myself, who thrives on preparation, accurate maps are as critical as training. And this spyglass, which some might consider little more than a magic trick, speaks to the grandness of Greek science and a new world yet to come. Not everyone can appreciate this, but I do, and I want you to know that.”
“You deserve credit for recognizing the value of a good map, sir. You were interested in my maps long before we met. That kind of forethought, I believe, separates you from the other Roman generals.”
Scipio smiled. “Claudius Nero deserves the credit for noticing you. He told me of the work you did for Marcellus. He spoke very highly of you and your maps.”
I bowed my head at the compliment.
“I would like to repay you somehow, Timon,” continued Scipio. “I don’t intend to tell anyone about the spyglass, but I would like to buy it from you. I would like to own it. Name any price.”
“It’s not for sale, sir. I’m sorry. It was a gift from Archimedes, and it means more to me than gold. I hope to continue making maps. I will need it as a sighting device.”
Scipio nodded slowly, perhaps surprised that I had turned him down. “Well, what if I made you part of my family? What if I adopted you? Then at least the device would be in the Cornelian clan.”
Adoption was very common in Roman families. Had Marcellus lived, I suspect he would have adopted me. “That’s a very kind offer, sir,” I answered instead of saying no.
“I heard you have feelings for Tiberius Sempronius’ daughter. I know her. She’s a very pretty and intelligent young woman, certainly a cut above the Sicilian woman I saw you with at Troglius’ trial.”
“I plan to marry that woman, sir.”
“Don’t be naive, Timon. Think of what the Cornelius name would do for you. You would be a patrician. Forget your farm girl. You could ask Fulvia for her daughter’s hand in marriage. I have heard the story of her plight with the Vestal Virgins. Fulvia would be certain to say yes were you part of my family.”
Even though I had already decided that I would ask Moira to marry me, something in this offer made me second-guess myself. Scipio saw it in my face.
“Give it some thought. I would love to add you—and your spyglass—to my family. It would change your life forever. You could have whatever you wanted.”
“Yes, sir, I understand that. Let me think about it. I wasn’t really planning on settling down in Rome, but your offer certainly puts that in a different perspective.”
Scipio lifted the spyglass to his eye again and scanned the horizon. “I see land,” he announced. “Have a look.” He handed me the spyglass and pointed.
I peered through the lenses at the horizon. “Yes, that might be the peak of Mount Etna, meaning we’re still quite far from shore. I’m guessing it will still be a while before the man in the crow’s nest notices.”
“And further proof of the device’s value, Timon. Think about my offer.” Scipio turned away and headed to the rear of the ship
.
A short time later, the man in the crow’s nest called out, “Land ahead!”
CHAPTER 113
We entered the harbor at Lilybaeum before sunset. The Fifth legion deboarded for deployment in Sicily. Although members of the Twenty-third, both Troglius and Rullo, along with several hundred others, were added to the Fifth to bring it to a full five thousand legionnaires. The rest of the Twenty-third would travel with Scipio to Rome. My mother and I would go with them. I planned to return to Syracuse, but I had unfinished business in Rome to attend to first.
We stayed two days in Lilybaeum before departing for Rome. I sought out Rullo and Troglius, knowing they would be stationed in Syracuse for the next few months. I found them in the Roman camp the afternoon prior to my leaving. We walked down to the harbor and sat on the wharf, watching the tide come in. I told them I would be in Rome only a short while, then I would return to Sicily to live outside Syracuse.
I noticed when we walked and when we were on the wharf that Rullo kept scratching himself, often quite vigorously. I ignored it as best I could, but on the way back to the camp, I asked him about it.
Rullo seemed embarrassed by the question, and only answered after I asked twice. “Something itches down here,” he said, as he pressed his tunic against his groin to dig at his crotch in obvious discomfort.
“Is it a rash?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, but it’s driving me crazy.” He went at himself again.
“Are you willing to show me?”
Rullo scrunched up his face, not at all happy with the idea, but with only Troglius and me there, he lifted his tunic and pushed his loin cloth down low enough to expose his pubic hair. The skin beneath the hair was raw from scratching. I looked closely and saw that there little bugs crawling in the hair. “You’ve got lice, Rullo!” I pinched one between my fingers and squeezed it lifeless, then showed him the tiny dot of an insect while he straightened his tunic.
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