Complete Works of Silius Italicus Page 20

  While the distracted son complained thus, the father from loss of blood breathed forth his life into empty air. Then the young man raised his sad eyes to heaven and cried: “O Queen of heaven, thou that didst witness the dreadful deed wrought by my polluted hand, thou whose light guided my weapon in the night to my father’s body, these eyes and this accursed countenance shall no longer profane thy deity.” With these words he drove his sword into his own body; and, when the blood flowed forth from the dark wound, he checked it and wrote his father’s message in letters of blood upon his shield—” Varro, beware of battle!” Then he hung the shield on the point of his spear, and threw himself down upon the body of the father he so deeply mourned.

  Such were the omens for the coming battle that Heaven sent to the Romans. By degrees darkness departed, and the night that witnessed that dreadful deed gave place to rosy dawn. The generals, Carthaginian and Roman, summoned their men to arms in customary fashion; and a day began for the invaders, the like of which will never be seen again. “You need no words of encouragement,” said Hannibal; “you have marched victorious all the way from the Pillars of Hercules to the Iapygian fields; brave Saguntum has been wiped out; the Alps have granted you a passage; and the Po, the proud father of Italian rivers, flows down now in a conquered channel. The Trebia is hidden beneath the bodies of the slain; the corpse of Flaminius lies upon the Lydian ° land; and the fields, furrowed by no plough, are whitened far and wide by Roman bones. A greater achievement than all these is at hand; a day is dawning that shall bring with it more bloodshed. For me fame is enough, and more than enough, to repay me for the toils of war; let the other gains of victory be yours. All the treasure that Roman ships have brought down the rich Hiberus, all that Rome has displayed in her triumphs over Sicily, and also any booty from the Libyan shore that she has stored up — all this shall fall to your swords, with no casting of lots. Take home with you all the spoil that you get by the sword; I, your general, seek no fame from riches. It will be for your benefit, that the Dardan robbers have for centuries past conquered and pillaged the world. To you I speak who trace your origin back to ancient Tyre and Sidon: whether the acres of Laurentum, ploughed by Roman husbandmen, are your choice, or whether you prefer the fields of Byzacium, where a hundred blades of corn spring from one seed — I shall allow you to choose the land you like best, as part of your reward. I shall give you also the meadow’s watered by the yellow stream of the Tiber, as a wide pasture-land for the flocks taken from the enemy. Next I say to the allies of foreign blood who fight in the ranks of Carthage: if any of you lift up a hand red with Roman blood, he shall be henceforth a citizen of Carthage. And do not be misled by the sight of Mount Garganus and the land of Daunus: you are standing now before the walls of Rome. Although the city lies at a distance and is far removed from this battlefield, she shall fall here and now, and never again shall I summon you to arms; when the fight is over, march straight against the Capitol.”

  Such was his speech. Then they threw down the protecting rampart and hurried over the trenches that delayed them; and the general drew up his line in suitable order on the winding banks, following the lie of the ground. On the left wing, ready for battle, stood the Nasamonians, a barbarous host, and with them the Marmaridae of giant stature; next were fierce Moors and Garamantes and Macae; Massylian warriors and a swarm of Adyrmachidae — a people who dwell by the Nile and rejoice to live by the sword, and whose skins are for ever blackened by their merciless sun. Nealces was appointed captain and commander of these troops. Then on the right wing, where the Aufidus makes bends and meanders round its own banks with circling waters, there Mago was in command. Here fought the light-armed peoples who came from the rugged Pyrenees, filling the river-banks with confused noise; and their crescentshaped shields shone in the sun. Foremost were the Cantabrians; and there were bare-headed Vascones, and Balearic slingers who fight with leaden bullets, and the sons of the Baetis. The centre was commanded by Hannibal himself, conspicuous on horseback, and was composed of stout warriors from Carthage and companies of Gauls whose limbs had often been bathed in the waters of the Po. But where the river, falling back with retreating stream, offered no protection to the combatants, there the elephants bore huge towers and upper-works on their sable backs, swaying to and fro like a moving rampart and raising the tall structures to the sky. Lastly, the Numidians had orders to ride all round about, to rove from point to point and busy themselves over all the field.

  Thus Hannibal disposed his eager forces. Again and again he appealed to them and could not say enough: he roused each man by reminding him of his past exploits; he boasted that he knew the arm that launched each hissing javelin; and he promised to be the eyewitness of all that each man did. Meanwhile, Varro sent his army forth from the camp and laid the foundations of disaster; and the Ferryman of the pale river rejoiced to make room for the expected ghosts. The vanguard halted, forbidden to go on by the letters of blood upon the lifted shield; the portent struck them dumb and motionless. A fearful sight was before them: the ill-fated pair lay locked in an embrace, and the son had laid his hand on his father’s breast, to hide the fatal wound. Tears were shed, and grief for Mancinus was renewed by his brother’s death; men were affected also by the evil omen and by the resemblance between the corpses. Quickly they inform Varro of the crime committed in error, of the dreadful deed, and of the shield that forbade a battle. He cried in wrath: “Carry these omens to Paulus; for he, whose womanish heart is filled with fears, may be affected by that parricidal hand, which, when the avenging Furies came, perhaps used his father’s blood to write that infamous dying message.”

  Then with words of menace he assigned to all their station on the field. Opposite fierce Nealces and the barbarous clans under his command Varro stood himself, with Marsians and Samnite standards and natives of Iapygia. In the centre of the field, where he saw that Hannibal was stationed, Servilius had orders to face the attack and bring on the men of Picenum and Umbria. The rest of the troops were on the right wing, with Paulus in command. Finally, Scipio had orders to deal with surprise attacks by the flying troops of Numidians, and was bidden to extend his lines, wherever the enemy’s cavalry laid a trap by breaking their formation.

  And now the two armies closed; and the rapid movement of men, together with the neighing of hot-breathing horses and the loud clashing of weapons, sent a dull roaring noise through the moving ranks. So, when the winds begin a battle on the deep, the sea is big with pent-up fury and storms that will soon drench the stars; then, churned up from the bottom, it breathes out sounds of menace through the rocks; and, driven from its caves, torments the restless water with its foaming eddies.

  Nor was the trouble confined to earth, when this crack of doom was heard: the madness of strife invaded heaven and forced the gods to fight. On one side fought Apollo and Mars with him, and the Ruler of the stormy sea; with them was Venus in despair, and Vesta, and Hercules, stung by the slaughter of captured Saguntum, and likewise worshipful Cybele; and the native gods of Italy — Faunus and father Quirinus; and Pollux who takes turns of life with his brother Castor. On the other was Juno, daughter of Saturn, with her sword girt round her, and Pallas who sprang from the Libyan waters of Lake Tritonis; and Ammon, the native god of Africa, whose brow bears curving horns, and a great company of lesser deities as well. When they all came on together, Mother Earth shook beneath the tread of those mighty beings. Some of them went apart and filled the mountains round with their presence, while others rested beneath a high cloud; and heaven was left empty when they came down to battle.

  A tremendous shout went up to the deserted sky, loud as the challenge sent up to heaven by the army of the Earthborn on the plain of Phlegra, loud as the voice with which Jupiter, creator of the universe, demanded fresh thunderbolts from the Cyclopes, when he saw the aspiring Giants coming, with mountains piled on mountains, to seize the throne of heaven. Nor was any spear the first to be thrown in that mighty conflict: a hissing storm of missiles was discharged
all at once with emulous rage; and men on both sides, eager for blood, were killed themselves by the cross-fire; and, even before the furious sword was drawn, a great number of the combatants lay low. In their eagerness, men even stood on the bodies of their comrades, and trod them under foot, in spite of their groans. The pressure of the Carthaginians could not dislodge nor turn aside the Roman line; nor could the steady ranks of Carthage be broken up; the sea might as well try to wrench Calpe from its seat by the impact of its waters. Blows failed for want of room; and the close-packed dead had no space to fall. Helmet, clashing fiercely against helmet of a foe, flashed fire; shield, striking shield, fell to pieces; and sword broke against sword. Foot pressed against foot, and man against man. The ground was hidden from sight by a coating of blood; and thick darkness overhead, caused by showers of missiles, concealed the starry sky. Those to whom Fortune had assigned a station in the second line fought with long poles and far-reaching spears, as if they were in the van of the host. And those who were banished to the third line and could win no glory strove to rival the prowess of those in front by hurling missiles. Behind them shouting did the work of war, and soldiers who were denied the chance of fighting assailed the enemy with volleys of abuse. Every kind of weapon was employed: some used stakes, others burning brands, and others weighty javelins, while others plied stones and slings and flying lances. Here an arrow went hissing through the sky, and there a falarica which even city-walls must fear.

  Ye goddesses, whose priest I am, how can I hope with mere mortal voice to set forth for future ages all the story of that day? Do ye grant me such bold utterance that I can sing of Cannae with but one tongue? If my fame is dear to you, if ye frown not on a mighty enterprise, then summon hither all your music and Apollo your sire. But would that Romans would thereafter bear prosperity with as much constancy as they showed in that dark hour. I pray that Heaven may be satisfied without testing the race of Troy, whether they can endure such an ordeal again. And thou, Rome, doubtful of thy doom, weep not, I pray, but bless those wounds which shall bring thee eternal glory. For never shalt thou be greater than then. Later victories shall sap thy strength, till naught but the story of thy defeats ° shall preserve thy fame.

  And now Fortune, shifting from side to side, had baffled the ardour of both armies by keeping the event uncertain; and the hopes of Roman and Carthaginian hung long in the balance, while the battle raged on equal terms. So when light breezes stir the green blades of corn and the wind bends the unripe ears, the tops of the wheat move this way and that, and sway and bow and shine with a gentle changing motion. But at last Nealces and his savage horde, charging with a fierce shout, broke the Roman line and scattered it. The close ranks broke up and the enemy rushed furiously through the gaps upon the frighted foe. Then torrents of blood flowed in a dark stream over the plain; and not a man who fell was pierced by one spear only. The Romans, fearing to be wounded in the back, welcomed the fatal stroke to their breasts, and by death avoided dishonour.

  Scaevola, ever a lover of danger and equal to any emergency, stood among the foremost in the centre of the fray; when so many had fallen, he had no wish to survive them but desired a glorious death worthy of his great ancestor. When he saw that the day was lost and that ruin was spreading, “Life is short,” he cried, “and little of it remains; let me prolong that little; for valour is an empty name unless the hour of death is sufficient to win glory.” With these words he gathered all his strength and rushed furiously to the centre where Hannibal was clearing a path with his unresting right hand. Then, when Caralis, in triumph, was about to fix on a tall tree the armour taken from a victim, Scaevola stabbed him, and his fury drove the sword in up to the hilt. He fell and rolled over, biting that foreign soil and crushing down the pains of death upon the ground. Nor could the rage and united valour of Gabar and Siccha stop Scaevola: brave Gabar, who stood firm, lost his right hand cut off in the fight; and while Sicca, stricken with grief, hastened to help his friend, he trod incautiously upon a sword and fell, cursing too late his unshod feet; and there he lay on the right hand of his dying comrade. At last the increasing fury of Scaevola attracted the deadly weapons of lightning-swift Nealces. The Carthaginian sprang forward, eager for the rewards of victory, and made more eager by Scaevola’s famous name. He seized a boulder torn by a torrent from a cliff and carried down from the lofty mountains, and hurled it furiously in Scaevola’s face. His teeth rattled, struck by that heavy weight; his features were destroyed; matter, mixed with brains and blood, gushed out through the nostrils, and a black discharge from the eyes flowed down from the crushed eye-sockets and mutilated forehead. Then Marius fell, while striving to rescue his friend, Caper, and fearing to survive his fall. They were born on the same day, and poverty was the lot of both their families; they were natives of the sacred city, Praeneste; they had been school-fellows, and the fields they tilled lay close together. In liking and disliking they never differed; it was a lifelong marriage of two minds; and brotherly love made then rich in poverty. In death they were not divided; and of all their prayers Fortune granted them one only — to die in battle side by side. The armour of both became the prize of Symaethus, their conqueror.

  But the Carthaginians were not permitted to enjoy for long so great a gift of Fortune. For Scipio, pitying the men whose backs were turned in flight, came up, terrible and menacing; and with him came Varro, the cause of all the suffering, and fair-haired Curio, and Brutus whose ancestor was the first consul. Supported by these warriors, the army would have regained the lost ground by a fresh effort, had not the sudden onset of Hannibal arrested the ranks as they ran forward. When he saw Varro far off on the field and the lictors in their scarlet tunics moving round him, “Ha!” he cried; “I recognize the state and the badges of a consul; even so looked Flaminius, not long ago.” Then in fury he thundered on his huge shield, to signify his eager rage. Unhappy Varro! Death might have made him the equal of Paulus; but heavens wrath would not suffer him to fall there by Hannibal’s hand. How often was he to reproach the gods for saving him from the sword of the Carthaginian! For Scipio rushed forward and quickly brought life where death was imminent, and turned the danger from Varro to himself. And Hannibal, though he lost the glory of winning the choicest spoils, was not sorry to change his antagonist for one more mighty, and to punish Scipio for rescuing his father by the river Ticinus, now that the chance of a duel was at last offered him. There they stood, the two mightiest warriors that earth has ever seen meet in battle; reared in far distant lands, in prowess they were well matched; but otherwise the Roman was superior — in sense of duty and of honour.

  Then Mars, fearing for Scipio, and Pallas, fearing for Hannibal, lighted down in haste from a hollow cloud upon the battle-field. And the appearance of the gods made both armies tremble, but the champions were undismayed. Wherever Pallas turned her breast, a baleful fire flashed far and wide from the Gorgon’s face, and the dreadful serpents on the aegis sent forth their hissings. Her blood-shot eyes blazed — one might think that a pair of comets were flashing — and the ample crest that crowned her helmet rolled waves of flame to the sky. And Mars, driving the air before him by the movement of his spear, and covering the plain with his shield, wore a breastplate, the gift of the Cyclopes, which sent forth fire of Etna; and, as he rose high, his golden plume struck the heavens.

  The champions, though on battle bent and each measuring at close quarters what he could dare to do, were aware, nevertheless, that gods had come down in arms; and both rejoiced to have them for witnesses and became more eager for battle. And now Pallas turned aside with her right hand the spear strongly hurled at Hannibal’s breast; and Mars, taught by the example of the fierce goddess to help Scipio, straightway put in his hand a sword forged on Aetna, and bade him do yet mightier deeds. Then the Maiden was roused to fury: a sudden flush suffused her fierce countenance; and, when she looked askance, her disordered aspect was more terrible than the Gorgon’s face. She shook her aegis, and all the serpents reared up their h
ideous bodies; and her first furious onset made even Mars retreat step by step from the fray. Then the angry goddess quickly tore away part of a mountain near her and hurled the mass of rugged rock at Mars; and the noise, carried far away, terrified the isle of Saso and shook its shores.