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Complete Works of Silius Italicus Page 28
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SLOWLY Hannibal marched away, and the Tarpeian hill had hardly disappeared from his sight when he turned a threatening face towards Rome and prepared to march back again. He encamped by the Tutia, a slender stream unknown to fame, which flows down noiselessly into the Tuscan river, with no banks to mar the meadowland. Here he found fault, now with the captains of the host, now with the prohibition of the gods, and now with himself. “You who raised the level of the Lydian lake with bloodshed — you who shook the land of Daunus with the thunder of your warfare, — whither are you now retreating, all courage lost? No sword-point, no lance has pierced your breast. If our mother Carthage were now to appear before you, her high head crowned with towers, what excuse could you give, soldiers, for retreating with no wounds to show? ‘Foul weather, rain and hail together, and thunder, drove us back, dear native land.’ Drive out this womanish weakness, men of Tyrian race, that prevents you from fighting unless the sky is clear and the weather fine.”
Dread of the gods filled their hearts; their weapons still smelt of the lightning, and the Thunder-god, the wrathful champion of Rome, was still before their eyes. Yet they had not lost the power to obey and to carry out every order they received; and the desire to carry the standards back to Rome grew stronger in the ranks and spread by degrees to the outside of the circle. So, when a pebble breaks the surface of a motionless pool, in its first movements it forms tiny rings; and next, while the water glints and shimmers under the growing force, it swells the number of the circles over the rounding pond, until at last one extended circle reaches with wide-spreading compass from bank to bank.
There was one dissenting voice. This was Dasius, the glory and the shame of Argyripa — a man of noble birth, who traced his origin to Diomede, son of Oeneus and king of Aetolia. A wealthy man but a faithless ally, he had joined himself to fiery Hannibal, distrusting the rule of Rome. Thus he spoke, recalling the tradition of former generations: “When an army carried on a long campaign against the citadel of Troy and warfare halted bloodless before the walls, Calchas explained their difficulty. (The brave hero Diomede had kept the tale in mind and often told it, when Daunus, his father-in-law, asked to hear it over their wine.) Calchas assured the Greeks that, unless they could contrive to carry off the image of the Warrior Goddess from the shrine in the citadel that guarded it, Ilium would never yield to the army of Sparta, nor would Leda’s child return to Amyclae. For the gods had decreed that no city which was ever occupied by this image could be taken by any invader. Thereupon my ancestor, the son of Tydeus, with Ulysses as his companion, made his way into the citadel, as Calchas had indicated, and slew the guards in the very porch of the temple; then they carried off the divine Palladium and threw open Troy to our conquering fortunes, with evil result. For when Diomede had founded a city within the borders of Italy, he felt uneasy because of his crime and sought by worship to appease the Trojan deity and make his peace with the household-gods of Ilium. A vast temple was already rising on the lofty citadel, a dwelling-place distasteful to the goddess from Laomedon’s city, when the Maiden of Lake Tritonis appeared in her divine form amid the profound silence of the midnight, and warned him thus: ‘Son of Tydeus, this work of yours is not adequate to do honour to such great glory; Mount Garganus and the Daunian land are no fitting place for me. Go to the land of Laurentum, and seek there for the man who is now laying the foundation-stone of a happier Troy. Carry to him the fillets and chaste guardian-goddess of his ancestors.’ Alarmed by this warning, Diomede went to the realm of Saturn. By this time the Trojan conqueror was founding another Troy at Lavinium and hanging up armour from Troy in a sacred grove at Laurentum. But when Diomede came to the stream of the Tuscan river and pitched his glittering camp on its bank, the sons of Priam trembled for fear. Then the son-in-law of Daunus held forth in his right hand a branch of silvery olive. He brought with him soldiers whose weapons glittered. as a pledge of peace, and spoke thus while the Trojans muttered in displeasure: ‘Son of Anchises, lay aside the recollections of rage and fear. For all the sweat and blood we poured out by Xanthus and Simois, rivers of Ida, and by the Scaean gate, we are not to blame: we were driven on by the gods and the inexorable Sisters. Say, why should we not spend under happier auspices what yet remains of life? Let us join hands that grasp no swords. She whom you now behold shall be the witness of our alliance.’ Thus he asked pardon of the Trojans, and displayed to their startled sight the image on the stern of his ship. When the Gauls dared to break through the walls of Rome, this goddess put a speedy end to them, and of that vast horde not a single man out of so many thousands returned in peace to the altars of his country.”
By these words Hannibal was discouraged. He ordered his men to pull up the standards, and they rejoiced, being eager to depart. They marched to the spot where Feronia’s temple of surpassing wealth stands in a sacred grove, and where the sacred river Capenas waters the fields of Flavina. Legend told that the treasure of the temple had never been rifled since its remote foundation, but had grown from time immemorial by means of offerings pouring in from all quarters; and gold, guarded by fear alone, had been left there for centuries. By plundering this temple, Hannibal steeped in guilt his greedy horde of barbarians, and steeled their hearts with contempt of the gods. Next it was decided to march far away, to where the fields ploughed by the Bruttians stretch out towards the Sicilian sea.
While Hannibal sadly bent his steps towards the shore near Rhegium, victorious Fulvius, having driven away the invader from his native city, brought news of disaster to the blockaded people of Capua, and prepared to put the finishing touch to their misery. He grasped the hand of every man famous in arms, and said: “Fight, to repel this disgrace. Why is treacherous Capua, a second Carthage to our state, still standing, after breaking her treaty and sending Hannibal against Rome, and after her claim to hold one of the consulships? Why does she, at ease behind her lofty towers, look out for the arrival of Hannibal and his Libyan host?” His words he backed up with deeds. He made his men rear high wooden towers, to rise above the top of the walls; or again he made haste to bind together beams with clamps of iron, that he might break the tall gate-posts and batter down the barriers of defence. Here rose a mound of earth whose sides were formed of planks arranged lattice-wise; and there high mantlets, teeming with arms, showed their protected roofs. When all the devices suggested by experience were complete, he gave the word at once and bade them scale the walls by the ladders. Thus he filled the citizens’ hearts with dreadful panic; and suddenly a favourable omen smiled upon his enterprise.
There was there a hind of a colour seldom seen by mortal eyes — whiter than snow and whiter than swansdown. When Capys was tracing out the walls of his city with the plough, his heart was touched by the grateful affection of this little creature which the forest had given him; he had reared it and tamed it by his kindness. Soon it lost its wild nature, coming readily to its master’s table, and even fawning with pleasure when he stroked it. The matrons were accustomed to comb the gentle creature’s flanks with a golden comb, and to renew its whiteness by bathing it in the river. The hind had become the deity of the city; the people believed that it had Diana for its mistress, and offered incense to it as to other deities. This animal was long-lived: it was fortunate enough to prolong a green old age through a thousand years of activity, and numbered as many centuries as the city founded by the Trojan exiles; but now death came to it at last. For a fierce pack of wolves had entered the city in the darkness of night — an evil omen in time of war — and the hind, startled by their sudden onset, had sallied forth from the gates at early dawn, and sought, in wild alarm, the fields that lay near the walls. The soldiers, delighting in the chase, caught it, and their general, Fulvius, slaughtered it as an acceptable offering to Leto’s daughter, and prayed that the goddess might assist his enterprise.
Then, trusting in the goddess, Fulvius quickly moved forward the troops that surrounded the besieged city; and, at a point where the walls diverged from the straight line to make
a curve, he invested them with a dense ring of assailants and penned them in like a beast in the toils. While the citizens trembled, Taurea rode forth from the gate; his helmet-plume rose high as he controlled the hot temper of his foaming steed: Hannibal himself admitted that none of his Autololes or Moors could hurl the spear in battle with as much force as Taurea. His horse was restive and refused to stand still amid the blare of the trumpets; but the rider schooled him by force, and when he saw himself within earshot of the enemy, shouted at close quarters: “Let Claudius,” he cried — this Claudius was a famous swordsman who had gained glory in a thousand battles—” let Claudius, if he has confidence in his right arm, come forth alone hither to the field, and meet me here in single combat.”
The Roman, when he heard the challenge, only waited till the general’s sanction gave him leave to begin; for the soldiers were forbidden, on pain of death, to fight for their own hand. When the command of Fulvius made him free to accept the challenge, he rushed forth jubilant, and rode over the open plain, sending up a billowy cloud of gathering dust. Disdaining the help of a thong or the use of a knotted strap to add force to his weapon, Taurea brandished his spear with the strength of his unaided arm. Then in furious rage he hurled his spear into the air. Far different was the purpose of the Roman: he scanned closely every part of the other’s body, seeking the surest place for his point to penetrate. Now he brandished his spear, and again he cheeked it, and made a feint of striking; at last he pierced Taurea’s shield through the centre, but the point was cheated of the blood it coveted. Then he drew his sword quickly from the sheath. And now Taurea, fleeing from imminent death, urged on his flying steed with the iron upon his heel. Rut the Roman was more nimble in pursuit of his retreating foe and pressed hard at full gallop upon the fugitive. Both entered the gate, the vanquished driven on by fear, and the conqueror by rage and love of glory and by thirst for the blood that was his due. The citizens could hardly believe their eyes and doubted their own senses, when they saw a single foeman gallop boldly into the town; but, while they trembled, he rode on unterrified right through the city and returned safe to his own army by the gate on the opposite side.”
Then all hearts burned with equal zeal and effort to attack the walls and force their way into the town. Weapons and fire-brands flashed together. Stones were hurled in showers, and spears rose to the height of the bastions. Nor was it easy for any man to distinguish himself by valour: — rage lent equal strength to every arm. Cretan arrows darted through the sky and flew on to the centre of the city. Fulvius rejoiced that there was no further need for encouragement or appeal; for one and all were eager for the fray. When he saw their high spirit, and also that each man was his own leader in action, he rushed with mighty force against the gate and sought out glorious hazards.
Three brothers of equal age guarded the gate, and each had a chosen band of a hundred men who kept watch and were stationed together. Among the brothers Numitor excelled in beauty, Laurens in speed of foot, and Taburnus in size and stature. Nor were they armed alike: one was a marvellous archer; another brandished the spear and fought with an envenomed point, distrustful of the naked steel; while the third was skilled in hurling fire-brands and lighted torches. They were like Geryon, that dread monster with triple body who is said to have lived long ago on the beach of Atlas: when he fought, his three hands plied different weapons: one hurled fierce fire, and a second, behind the first, shot arrows, while the third brandished a stout spear; and so with a single effort he inflicted three separate wounds. When the consul saw the brothers, each fighting with his different weapon, and the heap of corpses round the gate, and the gate-posts red with the blood of the attackers, he brandished his spear with furious strength and threw it. The spear, made of Italian yew, clove the air and bore with it cruel death; it pierced the body of Numitor in the side, which he had exposed while holding out his bow and raining arrows with lifted arms. But Virrius, hotheaded but of little account in battle, was not content to fight within the confinement of the walls: in his headstrong folly he opened a gate, sallied out into the plain, and exposed his hapless followers to the rage of the victorious Romans. For Scipio rushed to meet their onset and mowed down the opposing ranks, insatiable in his fury.
The shady hill of Tifata had given birth and nurture to Calenus, a fierce warrior; great was his body, and his fiery spirit as great. Often did he surprise a lion in its lair, or go to battle with head uncovered, or wrestle with a steer and force down to earth the horns of an angry bull; and often he gained glory by some desperate deed. When Virrius made his precipitate sally from the town, Calenus followed; but he wore no corslet, either because he despised its protection or to gain time; and, carrying less weight, he harassed the Romans who panted under their heavy armour, and drove them before him in defeat and disorder. Already he had run Veliternus through the belly; already he had overthrown Marius with a stone torn from the earth — Marius who was wont to tilt with Scipio, his equal in age, in mimic warfare. In his death-agony he cried to his friend for help, and the stone crushed in his open mouth. Grief doubled Scipio’s strength. Even as he wept, he hurled his whizzing spear, eager that his friend should find consolation for his fall by seeing his enemy dying. Like a bird cleaving the clear sky, the spear pierced the breast of Calenus and shattered his huge frame. With such force the light Liburnian galley skims over the surface of the deep; when the oars, drawn back to the rowers’ chests, strike the water in unison, she flies swifter than the winds, and a single stroke of their blades carries her further than her own length.
Volesus had quickly thrown down his shield, that he might reach the city with more speed; he overtook Ascanius who was rushing over the open plain, and cut off his head with the sword; the head lay in front of the man’s feet, and then the headless body fell further on; so fast was he running. The besieged could no longer hope to defend walls already unbarred. They beat a retreat to the town, and (horrible to tell) shut out their comrades as they begged to be admitted: the hinges turned and the bolts were forcibly thrust home, when such precautions were too late. This made the Romans press their attack more fiercely against the beleaguered city. And, if black night had not thrown her robe of darkness over the earth, the eager soldiers would have broken down the gates and passed through them.
But the darkness did not bring the same rest to both armies. On one side there was untroubled sleep, such as the conqueror knows. But Capua, terrified either by piteous complaints and shrieks of the weeping women or by the laments of the troubled senators, prayed for an end to her sufferings and a limit to her hardships. Virrius, the arch-traitor, was discomfited. Expelling from his heart all desire of life, he told the assembled senate that they must not rely on Hannibal to save them. “I hoped” — so he cried aloud—” that we should rule Italy; and I promised that, if Fortune and Heaven favoured the Carthaginian armies, the empire of Trojan Quirinus should be transferred to Capua. I sent a force to batter down the walls of Rome and the Tarpeian citadel; and I had the boldness to demand that one of the two consuls should be of our nation, carrying the rods of office and ranking with his colleague. I am content to have lived till now. To-night is ours: if any man would fain go down to the river of Acheron with Freedom as his companion for ever, let him come to my table and sup with me. There the wine shall spread through his frame and overpower his senses; death shall lose its sting, and he shall swallow the antidote for defeat, and disarm Fate by means of merciful poison.” Thus he spoke and went back to his house, and many went with him. In the centre of the house a great pyre of oak-wood was raised, to receive them all alike after death.
The populace meanwhile were still maddened by rage and fear. Now, too late, they remember Decius and the harsh sentence of exile passed upon his noble courage. The goddess Loyalty looked down from heaven and troubled their traitorous hearts. A mysterious voice was heard and filled all the air: “Ye mortals, break not your oaths with the sword, but keep faith unstained. Loyalty outshines the purple sheen of monarchs. I
f a man rejoices to break his plighted word in the hour of danger, and betrays the dwindling hopes of his friend, neither his household, nor his wife, nor his life, shall ever be free from mourning and tears. Loyalty, whom he despised and wronged, shall hound him ever over land and sea, and persecute her victim day and night.” Hidden in a cloud, a Fury was present now at every meeting and every meal, lying on the couches and boldly sharing the feast. In person she hands to the guests the foaming cup of deadly poison, and offers them with lavish hand the penalty of death. Meanwhile Virrius gave time to the deadly drink to reach his inmost parts; then he ascended the pyre, embraced the friends who were dying together with him, and bade the fire to be kindled at once.
Darkness was near its ending, and the conquerors came rushing on. And now the people of Capua saw Milo standing on the wall and calling to his comrades to follow. Then the gates were thrown open by the terrified citizens; and those who had lacked courage to escape punishment by death made their way with faltering steps to the hostile camp. The city stood open; the people confessed their mad folly and unbarred their houses polluted by hospitality to the Carthaginians. Women and children came flocking, and sorrowing senators, and the rabble whom none could pity. There stood the Roman soldiers, leaning on their javelins, and gazed at those men, unable to bear either prosperity or adversity, who now swept the ground with beards that covered their breasts, and now defiled their grey hairs in the dust, while, shedding unmanly tears and putting up shameful prayers for mercy, they filled the air with womanish wailings.