Complete Works of Silius Italicus Page 21

  But this duel was not hidden from the King of Heaven. He made haste to send Iris down, girt about with clouds, to quell their exceeding wrath. “Go, goddess,” he said, “and glide swiftly down to the land of Oenotria; and bid Pallas to abate her fury against her brother, and not to hope that she can reverse the fixed laws of Fate. Tell her this also: if she persists and still cherishes her anger — for I know the fierceness and rage of her fiery heart — she shall learn how far my dreadful thunderbolts outdo her aegis.”

  When the maiden of Tritonis heard this message, she doubted for a space, uncertain whether to yield to her father’s weapons. “I shall quit the field,” she said; “but can his defeat of Pallas turn destiny aside? Or can he from his height in heaven avoid seeing the fields of Garganus reek with carnage?” Thus she spoke, and caught up Hannibal in the bosom of a cloud and bore him to a distant part of the field. Then she left the earth.

  But Mars, encouraged by the retreat of the goddess to the sky, renewed his purpose. Hidden in a cloud, he raised with his own mighty hand the Romans prostrate on the field and brought them back to battle. They turned their standards about and began a fresh slaughter, and fear fell upon the foe. But now the gaoler of the winds, whose prison keeps the blasts under control, and who is obeyed by every wind that sweeps the sky — Eurus and Boreas, Caurus and Notus — yielded to the prayer of Juno who offered him no small rewards, and unchained for battle the fury of Vulturnus, the wind that is lord of the Aetolian plains. Him she chose as the instrument of her deadly wrath. First he dived into the white-hot crater of Etna and caught fire from there; then he lifted up his flaming face, and flew forth with a dreadful roaring over all the land of Daunus, driving before him a dark cloud of thick dust. The blast made the Romans blind and dumb and helpless; the wind whirled fiery masses of eddying sand — piteous to tell — into their faces, and rejoiced to obey orders and fight furiously against the ranks. Then in vast destruction down fell soldiers and weapons and trumpets; and every lance was carried backwards by the blast, and every Roman missile fell useless behind their own backs. And the same blast was of service to the Carthaginian weapons: the howling wind quickened their javelins, as if they had been launched with a thong, and drove their spears onward. At last the soldiers, stifled by the thick dust, shut their mouths tight, and mourned that they must die an inglorious death. Vulturnus himself, his fair hair hidden in black darkness and covered deep with sand, at one time turned his victims round and assailed their backs with his hissing wings; at another time he attacked them in front with boisterous blast, rattling their weapons full in face, and hissing at them with open mouth. Sometimes, when they were bent on battle and just bringing their swords to an enemy’s throat, the wind thwarted the intended blow and plucked away the hand in the very act of striking. Nor was he content with spreading havoc through the Roman army, but belched forth his howling blasts against Mars himself, and the hurricane twice caused the god’s topmost crest to quiver.

  While the fury of the wind battled thus against the Roman troops and kindled the anger of Mars, the Maiden Goddess together with Juno addressed her Father thus: “See the storms that Mars is rousing against the ranks of Carthage, and the carnage with which he gluts his fury. Say, is it not thy pleasure now that Iris should go down to earth? Yet the purpose of my presence there was not to destroy the Trojans — let Rome hold empire together with my pledge, and there I would fix the abode of the Palladium ° — no, but I would not allow Hannibal, the glory of my Libyan birthplace, to be slain in the flower of his youth, and such promise to be nipped in the bud.”

  Then Juno took up the tale, wrathful at her unending task: “Nay!” she cried: “that all the world may know the immense extent of thy power and thy vast superiority over all the gods, use thy flaming bolt, my husband, to shatter the citadels of Carthage — I beg for no mercy — and bury her soldiers in a huge chasm of the earth and plunge them in the depths of Tartarus, or whelm them in the sea.”

  Then Jupiter made answer with gentle words: “Ye strive against destiny, and cherish unsound hopes. That young warrior, against whom thou, my daughter, wert fain to fight, shall destroy the Carthaginians and assume their name and bear to the Capitol the laurel for the conquest of Libya. That other to whom thou, my wife, givest courage and glory — I tell his fortune — shall turn his sword away from the Italian nation. The date of disaster is not distant: the day and hour are coming, when he shall regret that he ever crossed the Alps.” Thus Jupiter spoke and sent Iris down in haste from Olympus, to recall Mars and bid him leave the battle. And Mars did not refuse to obey: he departed, loudly protesting, to high heaven, delighting as he did in clarions and trumpets, in wounds and blood and the shouting of the warriors.

  When the field was free at last from the contending gods, and Mars no longer filled the plain, Hannibal rushed up from the remotest part of the battle, whither he had fled step by step before the divine weapons. With a great shout he brought with him horsemen and footmen and heavy siege-engines, and the huge beasts that carry towers on their backs. And when he recognized a warrior harassing the light-armed troops with his sword, anger flashed from his blood-stained features: “What Fury,” he cried, “what god has driven you to battle, Minucius, that you should dare to face me a second time? Where is Fabius now, he who was once a father to you and saved you from my spear? You ask too much: be content with having escaped once from my hand.” Then, together with his insults his spear went forth and pierced the breast of Minucius with the force of a battering-ram, and cut off the reply he would have uttered.

  Nor was the steel enough to gratify his rage. The huge black beasts were brought up, and the Roman soldiers were matched against monsters. For Hannibal rode along the line, and ordered the Moors, whose goads controlled the Lucan kine in battle, to prick their charges to speed, and to hasten forward the herd of elephants. Trumpeting wildly, and compelled by many a stab, the great beasts of war came quickly on. A tower, freighted with men and, javelins and fire, was borne on each dusky back and discharged a fierce hail of stones over the distant ranks; and the Libyans, seated aloft, poured a shower of darts all round from their moving rampart. The line of white tusks stretched far in serried ranks; and to each tusk was fastened a blade, whose point came close and flashed down straight from the curved upper part. Here, in the general alarm, an elephant drove its murderous tusk through the armour and body of Ufens and carried him shrieking through the trampled ranks. Nor had Tadius an easier death: where the corslet with its many folds of linen protected his body, the persistent point of a tusk bored its way in by degrees and then swung the man aloft unwounded, while his shield rang. The brave man was not terrified by danger in this strange form, but turned it to glorious account: when close to the elephant’s forehead, he stabbed both its eyes with quick thrusts of his sword. Maddened by the grievous wound, the beast rose on its hind legs and reared up till it threw off the heavy tower on the ground behind it. A piteous sight, when weapons and men and the blinded beast suddenly came crashing down together to the ground!

  The Roman general ordered his men to hurl lighted torches against the fighting monsters, and to shower dark sulphurous brands upon the moving forts carried by the elephants. They obeyed at once: the backs of the beasts sent up smoke and flame, as the fire grew; and fed by the roaring wind, it spread over the fighting-towers and devoured them. Even so, when the shepherd burns the grass on Pindus or Rhodope, and the fierce blaze spreads through the woods, the leaf-clad heights catch fire; and suddenly the flame of fire leaps from point to point and shines over all the lofty range. Scorched by the burning pitch, the beasts ran wild and cleared a wide path through the ranks. Nor was any man bold enough to fight them at close quarters: to attack from a distance with javelins and showers of arrows was all they dared. Maddened by the heat, the huge beasts in their torment tossed the fire on all sides and spread it, till they plunged headlong into the stream beside them. But deceived by the shallow water that overflowed the level plain, they rushed far along
the banks, and the flame, rising above the water, went with them. At last they dived beneath the stream, where the water was deep enough to cover their huge bodies.

  But, where battle was possible, and before the Moorish monsters were set on fire, the Roman soldiers surrounded them at a distance and assailed them with javelins and stones and flying bullets, like men besieging a citadel or attacking a fortified place on high ground. Mincius showed courage worthy of a warrior and worthy of better fortune: coming close, he raised up his drawn sword; but his brave deed miscarried; for the trunk of the trumpeting monster, discharging hot and panting breath, wound its angry coils round him and lifted him up; then it brandished his body in that dreadful grasp, and hurled it high in air, and dashed the crushed limbs of the poor wretch upon the ground — a mournful sight.

  Amid these disasters Paulus sighted Varro on the field and thus taunted him: “Why are we not fighting Hannibal hand to hand? Did we not promise Rome that he should stand with fetters round his neck before your triumphal car? Alas for our country! Alas for our people who in their wickedness bestow their favour amiss! ° Now that they are suffering such calamities, they will find no answer to this question: was Varro’s birth or Hannibal’s the worse calamity? and which should they have prayed Heaven to avert?” While Paulus spoke thus, Hannibal pressed hard on the flying Romans, and discharged all the spears of Carthage against their backs, in full view of Paulus. The consul’s helmet was struck and his shield battered; but on he rushed, none the less fiercely, into the centre of the foe.

  But now, when Paulus had parted from him and gone to fight far away, Varro’s reason tottered. He pulled at the bridle and turned his horse round and said: “Rome, thou art punished now for having put Varro in command while Fabius still lived. But what means this divided mind, this change of fortune? Is it a trap laid for me by the Fates? I long to make an instant end of all things by taking my own life. But some god arrests my sword and keeps me alive that I may suffer even worse. Can I live and carry back to Rome these rods, broken and spattered with the blood of citizens? How shall I show my hated face through the towns of Italy? How shall I, a fugitive from battle, see Rome again? Hannibal himself could desire for me no more cruel punishment.”

  Further protest was cut short by the approach of the enemy: their attack drove him back, and his war-horse with loosened rein carried him swiftly away.

  BOOK X

  ARGUMENT

  DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE CONTINUED: VALOUR AND DEATH OF PAULUS (1-325). FLUSHED WITH VICTORY, HANNIBAL INTENDS TO MARCH ON ROME NEXT DAY; BUT JUNO SENDS THE GOD OF SLEEP TO STOP HIM (326-370). HE YIELDS, IN SPITE OF THE STRONG PROTESTS OF MAGO (371-386). THE REMNANT OF THE ROMAN ARMY RALLY AT CANUSIUM: THEIR MISERABLE PLIGHT (387-414). METELLUS PROPOSES THAT THE ROMANS SHOULD LEAVE RALY; BUT SCIPIO THREATENS DEATH TO HIM AND HIS SYMPATHIZERS (415-448). HANNIBAL SURVEYS THE BATTLE-FIELD: THE FAITHFUL HORSE OF CLOELIUS: THE STORY OF HIS ANCESTRESS, CLOELIA: THE BODY OF PAULUS IS FOUND AND BURIED (449-577). DISTRESS AT ROME (578-591). FABIUS ENCOURAGES HIS COUNTRYMEN (592-604). HE ALSO CALMS THE FURY OF THE POPULACE AGAINST VARRO (605622). VARRO RETURNS TO ROME (623-639). THE SENATE ADOPTS MEASURES TO ENLIST SOLDIERS AND CONTINUE THE WAR (640-658).

  WHEN Paulus saw that the enemy was gaining ground, even as a wild beast dashes of its own accord upon the ring of spears that surrounds it, and so, at the cost of wounds, brings its assailants closer, so he fought his way to the centre of the battle, rushing into every danger and courting death from every sword. He cried to his men with a terrible voice: “Stand firm, I implore you, and receive the steel in your breasts without flinching, and carry unwounded backs to the world below. Nothing remains save a glorious death. I, Paulus, shall be your leader still as you go down to Hades.” Then on he went, swifter than Thessalian Boreas or the arrow that comes back to the fight from the bow of the retreating Parthian. Where Cato, full of martial spirit and forgetful of his youth, was fighting, Paulus rushed upon the foe and rescued the youth from death, when he was hard pressed by nimble Vascones and Cantabrians with showers of darts. The foemen fell back and withdrew in fear. So a hunter gleefully chases a roe-deer in a distant valley, and follows close till it is weary, hoping soon to put his hand upon it; but, if a fierce lion suddenly emerges from a cave before him and stands in full view, gnashing its teeth, then the red blood leaves the hunter’s cheeks, and he drops the weapon that will not serve him at such a pass, and thinks no longer of the quarry he once counted on. Now Paulus thrust his sword-point at close range against foes who held their ground; now his missiles overtook the frightened cowards who turned their backs. He finds pleasure in fierce frenzy and gains glory from defeat; a multitude of nameless enemies fall before his single sword; and, had but a second Paulus been present in the Roman host, Cannae would have lost its fame.

  At last the Roman wing gave way and the front rank fell to pieces in full retreat. Ocres and Opiter, who came from the vine-clad hills of Setia, were slain, and likewise Labienus, whom rocky Cingulum sent from its high walls. Soldiers of Carthage slew them all at the same time but in different ways; for Labienus was run through the body by a spear; and, of the brothers, one was wounded in the shoulder, and the other in the thigh, when they fell. Maecenas too was slain by a dart that pierced his groin; his name was held in high honour in the Lydian land where his ancestors once were kings over Etruria. Despising life, Paulus pressed through the centre of the fray, seeking Hannibal; there was but one fate he dreaded — to die and leave the Carthaginian general alive.

  But Juno feared the man’s might; for, if a duel began, such a storm of passion would not have ended in nothing. Therefore she took the form of cowardly Metellus: “Why,” she asked, “do you, the consul on whom alone the hopes of Rome depend, defy Fortune and rage furiously to no purpose? If Paulus survives, the empire of Rome still stands; if he dies, he drags down his country with him. Do you mean, Paulus, to go forth against that warrior in his pride, and to deprive us of our leader in our time of trouble? Just now, in his joy of battle, Hannibal would dare to fight the Thunderer himself. Already Varro has turned his bridle-rein — I saw him do it — and made off, reserving himself for better times. Give Fate time to work; and, while you may, snatch from death a life that matters more than ours; you will have fighting enough hereafter.”

  Paulus sighed and answered:” Have I not cause enough to seek death in battle, when my ears have heard such infamous counsel from a Metellus? Fly, madman, fly! I pray heaven that no weapon of the enemy may wound you in the back. Untouched and unscathed may you depart and enter the gates of Rome with Varro as your companion! Worst of cowards, did you think roe worthy of life on such terms and unworthy of a noble death? Hannibal forsooth is raging, he whose valour would now challenge Jupiter himself. How far have you declined from the high emprise of your ancestors! When could I prefer to fight or against whom to match myself? Hannibal, whether conqueror or conquered, will make my name famous for ever.”

  Uttering such reproaches, Paulus sped off to the centre of the foe. Acherras was making his way back to where the ranks of his supporters were thick, and finding a path by stealth through close-packed warriors and a hedge of shields; but Paulus, swifter of foot, overtook and slew him. So a Belgian hound pursues a boar he cannot see; never giving tongue, with nose to the ground he tracks unerringly the beast’s wanderings over hill and dale, and ranges over uplands that no line of hunters has ever surrounded; nor does he cease from following the scent once caught, till he comes upon the lair hidden deep in the thorn-brakes.

  But the consort of Jupiter, when Paulus would not cease from fighting and her words proved unavailing to stop him, changed her form again: she took the likeness of the Moor, Gelesta, and summoned Hannibal, who knew her not, away from the heat of battle. “Glory of Carthage,” she said, “whose fame will never die, we implore you to turn hither your armed right hand; for Paulus is fighting fiercely by the banks of the swollen river; and the death of no other foeman can bring you greater fame.” With these words s
he hastened Hannibal to a distant part of the field.

  On the high bank of the river a warrior named Crista harassed the African host; and his six sons fought together round their father. The family was poor but known to fame among the Tudertes; and Crista himself had a name for deeds of arms throughout Umbria, and taught all his troop of sons to bear arms and fight. And now this band of brothers, led by their hardy instructor, had glutted themselves with slaughter of men, and then laid low with countless wounds an elephant with a tower on its back. Then fire-brands followed, and they were watching with joy while the fallen monster was burning, when suddenly a helmet flashed and plumes waved bright above a higher helmet. The old man, who recognized Hannibal by the light he shed, was no laggard: willingly he urged on his troop of sons into the fierce conflict, bidding them hurl their weapons thick and fast, and disregard his fire-breathing nostrils and the flames that came from his helmet. Thus the bird of mighty Jupiter, whose care brings up her eaglets in the nest to be fit carriers of the thunderbolts, turns them to face the sun and examines them, testing their genuine descent by the rays of Phoebus. And now Crista was fain to set an example for the contest that summoned them: see, his spear flies swiftly past through the space between. But the point could not penetrate the many plates of the golden corslet; the spear hung down, and the feeble blow betrayed the failing powers of the thrower. Then Hannibal accosted him: “What madness induced your hand, feeble with age, to strike such harmless blows? Scarce did your quivering spear scratch the surface plates of Gallician gold. See! I give you back your own weapon; your famous sons should take me rather to teach them skill in arms.” And straightway he pierced the breast of hapless Crista with his own spear.