"Leader of the armies of Rome," so ran the speech, "the G.o.ds have given thy country the final victory over her rival. Four centuries ago Rome felt it to be an honour to be acknowledged by Carthage as an ally on equal terms.[54] Since then there has been continued rivalry and frequent war between the two nations. More than once it has seemed likely that the Fates had decreed that the seat of empire should be in Africa rather than in Italy. But this was not their will. We have long been convinced that we were not to rule; we now perceive that we are not even to be permitted to exist. But though it is necessary for the honour, if not for the safety, of Rome, that Carthage should be destroyed, it is not necessary that a mult.i.tude of innocent persons, whose sole offence is to have been born within the walls of a doomed city, should also perish. There are some, a few thousands out of many, who have, it is true, committed the offence of defending their country; these also implore your mercy. That they can resist your attack they acknowledge to be impossible; but they can at least claim this merit, that by a prompt surrender they will save the lives of some of your soldiers. Your nation, man of Rome, has been ready beyond all others to show mercy to the conquered, and your family, Scipio, has been conspicuous in this as in all other virtues. Be worthy, we beseech you, of your country, your house, and yourself."

It was without a moment's hesitation that Scipio replied to this harangue. Nor had he to use the services of an interpreter. With that indefatigable energy which distinguished him he had employed the scanty leisure allowed by his duties to learn the Carthaginian language, of which at the beginning of the siege he had been as ignorant as were the rest of his countrymen.

"I will not use many words, for time presses, and there is much to be done. The mult.i.tude of unarmed persons may come forth without fear.

Their lives are a.s.sured to them. Nor do we bear any enmity against brave men who have fought against us. They shall not be harmed. I except only from my offer of mercy those who have betrayed their country by deserting it."

The answer had scarcely been spoken before a huge mult.i.tude, to whom its purport had probably been communicated by some preconcerted signal, poured out from the gates. Seldom has a more piteous sight been seen.

With faces wan with famine, and clothed, for the most part, in squalid rags, the long lines of old men, women, and children defiled before the Roman general as he stood surrounded by his staff. True to his gentle and kindly nature, he busied himself in making provision for their immediate wants. The whole number--there were fifty thousand in all, a great crowd, it is true, but pitiably small in comparison with the supposed total of non-combatants when the siege began--was divided into companies, each of which was a.s.signed to the commissariat department of one or other of the legions. At the same time instructions were given to the officers in charge of the stores that their immediate necessities--and many of them were actually starving--should be relieved.

The non-combatants thus disposed of, the soldiers that had surrendered followed. There may have been some six thousand in all, of whom five-sixths were mercenaries, one-sixth only native Carthaginians. They were in much better case than the rest of the population; in fact, as far as provisions were concerned, they had not been subjected to any hardship. The mercenaries had, for the most part, an indifferent look.

It was depressing, doubtless, to have been serving for now three years an unsuccessful master, and to have missed the good pay which they might have earned elsewhere. But this was one of the chances of their profession, and they might hope to recoup themselves for their loss by another and more fortunate speculation. The Carthaginian minority were in a different temper. There was no future for them. Their country was gone, and if the love of life, which a.s.serts itself even over the fiercest and bitterest pride, had bent their haughty temper to supplicate for mercy, it could do nothing more. Each man as he pa.s.sed in front of the general laid down his arms upon the ground. These, again, were piled in heaps, to be carried off in due time to the stores in the Roman camp.

This business was just completed when a solitary figure was seen to issue from one of the gates in the citadel walls, and hurriedly to approach the Roman lines. As he ran he was struck by a missile from the walls. The blow levelled him to the ground, but he regained his feet in the course of one or two minutes, and hastened on, though with a somewhat limping gait. It was observed that he was dressed as a slave, and, as he came nearer, that his face was so closely m.u.f.fled that his features could not be recognized. Nevertheless, his figure, which was short and corpulent, seemed to many to be familiar. Reaching the Roman lines, he threw himself at Scipio's feet, caught him by the knees, and in broken Greek begged for his life. The general, stretching forth his hand, raised him from the ground. It was Hasdrubal, the commander-in-chief of the armies of Carthage.

A murmur of disgust at his poltroonery ran through the ranks. Here and there the kinsmen or comrades of the unhappy prisoners whom he had done to death in so barbarous a fashion a few months before gave vent to more menacing expressions of anger. Scipio silenced these manifestations of feeling by an imperative gesture of command.

"Your life is spared," he said. "See that you make a due return for the boon."

It must not be supposed that the Roman general was disposed to regard with any kind of leniency Hasdrubal's baseness and barbarity. It was from policy that he spared the miserable creature's life. In the first place, it was the custom, from which it would be injudicious to depart, to make the king or chief general of a conquered people an essential part of the triumph which would celebrate the victory. Secondly, he was aware that the prisoner would be useful in many ways, that there were important matters about which he could give the best, or, it might be, the only available information.

As to the boon of life, it seemed to his own n.o.ble nature to be a very small thing indeed. For himself he felt that, had such a situation been possible, he would far sooner have died than survive to face such shame and ignominy: the craven clinging to life which dominates such mean natures as Hasdrubal's was simply incomprehensible to Scipio. But if he despised Hasdrubal while he spared him, there were others among the Carthaginian leaders for whom he felt a genuine admiration and respect, and to whom he was willing to offer honourable terms of surrender.

"Where," he asked Hasdrubal, "are your colleagues in command, and the chief magistrates?"

"They are in the temple of aesculapius," replied the Carthaginian.

"Think you that they will be willing to surrender? They are brave men, and have done their best, and they shall be honourably treated."

"I know not what they intend," muttered the fugitive, with as much shame as it was in his nature to feel.

"I will at least try them," said Scipio, and he advanced towards the citadel, followed by some of his staff. Hasdrubal, much against his will, was constrained to accompany them.

A number of figures could be seen on the roof of the temple, which, as has been explained, formed the summit of the citadel. As soon as he came within ear-shot of the place he bade one of the prisoners step forward and communicate his _ultimatum_ to what may be called the garrison of the temple.

"_Scipio offers to all freeborn Carthaginian citizens, life on honourable terms. To all those who have deserted he promises a fair trial, so that if they can show any just cause for having left their country, even they may not despair of safety._"

To this appeal no answer was made. After a while, as Scipio and his attendants waited for a reply, thin curls of smoke were seen to rise from the temple. Next a woman, leading a young boy by either hand, approached the edge of the roof. She was clothed in a flowing robe of crimson, confined at the waist by a broad golden girdle. Her long hair, which streamed far below her waist, was bound round her temples by a circlet of diamonds that flashed splendidly in the sun.

"By Baal," cried the Carthaginian prisoner who delivered Scipio's message, "it is the Lady Salamo herself."

"Who is it, say you?" asked Scipio.

"The Lady Salamo," answered the man, "the wife of my lord the general."

It was indeed the wife of Hasdrubal.

"Man of Rome," she began in a clear, penetrating voice, which made itself heard far and wide, addressing herself to Scipio, who was conspicuous in the scarlet cloak worn by generals commanding armies, "man of Rome, to thee there comes no blame from G.o.ds or men. Carthage was the enemy of your country, and thou hast conquered it. But on this Hasdrubal, this traitor who hath been false to his fatherland, to his G.o.ds, to me,--whose shame it is to have been his wife,--and to his children, may the G.o.ds of Carthage wreak their vengeance! And thou, Scipio, I charge thee, fail not to be their instrument."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LADY SALAMO DEFIES THE ROMANS FROM THE WALLS OF CARTHAGE.]

She then turned to Hasdrubal.

"Villain," she cried, "and liar, and coward, as for me and these children, we shall find a fit burial in this fire;" and as she spoke a great flame sprung up for a moment among the gathering clouds of smoke; "but thou, that wast the chiefest man in Carthage, what dishonourable grave wilt thou find? This only I know, that neither thy children nor I will live to see thy disgrace."

Turning from the wretched man with a gesture of contempt, she drew a dagger from her girdle and plunged it into the heart first of one then of the other of the two children who stood at her side. Then flinging the b.l.o.o.d.y weapon from her, she leapt into the midst of the flames, which by this time were rapidly gaining the mastery over the whole building. All her companions shared her fate. The Carthaginian n.o.bles were too proud to live under the sway of Rome; the deserters were conscious of their guilt, or distrusted the justice of a Roman tribunal.

Anyhow, not a single individual out of the desperate band to which Scipio had addressed his appeal availed himself of the opportunity. The temple of aesculapius perished with all its inmates; and along with it was lost to Rome and to the world a vast treasury of wealth.

FOOTNOTES:

52: Against Nebuchadnezzar in 598 B.C., and against Alexander in 331.

53: "'Far hence be Bacchus' gifts,' the chief rejoined; 'Inflaming wine, pernicious to mankind, Unnerves the limbs, and dulls the n.o.ble mind.'"

_Iliad_ (Pope), vi.

54: A treaty was made between Rome and Carthage in the year 509 B.C.

CHAPTER XXVII.

A PRECIOUS BOOK.

It is time to explain what had happened to Cleanor while the events recorded in the last chapter were proceeding. He had remained within the physician's house during the six days' fighting in the streets. The house had been turned into something like a hospital, and the young Greek found plenty of employment in doing such services as a lay hand could render to his host's patients. The physician was naturally one of the deputation which, as has been described, waited on the conqueror on the morning of the seventh day, and he took his guest with him in the character of his a.s.sistant. Nor could Cleanor escape an emotion of relief to find himself again under Roman protection. It was a curious change from the feelings that had dominated him a few months before, but the constraining power of circ.u.mstances had been too much for him. His first care was to ascertain the fate of Theoxena and her daughter. Here it was necessary to proceed with caution. It would not be wise to make inquiries at random. The person whom he could most safely trust was Scipio, the young officer, whom he was, of course, anxious to see for other reasons. To his great delight he found that his friend was the officer in command of the guard to which the safety of the temple of Apollo in the a.r.s.enal had been committed. He found an opportunity of sending a message by a soldier who happened to be off duty for the time.

Hardly an hour had elapsed when he received an answer. It ran thus:

"_A thousand congratulations. We had almost given you up for lost, only that the G.o.ds are manifestly determined to make up to you for some part at least of what you have suffered. Come at once: I have much to say to you!_"

The meeting between the two friends was very affectionate. Cleanor, postponing the narrative of his own adventures to some future opportunity, at once took the young Roman officer into his confidence.

"You may rest a.s.sured that your friends are safe. There has been a guard over the private apartments attached to the temple; and I have taken care to have trustworthy men, as I always should in such a case. But I can tell you that your friends have had a very narrow escape. If the general had not arrived just at the right time, the whole building would have been reduced to ashes."

He then proceeded to relate the story which the reader has already heard. Cleanor listened with emotion that he could hardly conceal. How nearly had all his efforts been in vain! How narrowly had these two--who were all that remained to him of his old life--escaped destruction!

Young Scipio's narrative was hardly finished when the conversation of the friends was interrupted by the arrival of an orderly bringing a message from the general. The official despatch, accompanied by a letter expressed in more familiar terms, ran thus:

"_I have learnt that a ma.n.u.script of the very highest value, which I have a special charge from the Senate and People of Rome to preserve, to wit, the Treatise of Hanno on Agriculture, has always been and is now in the custody of the priests of Apollo in the a.r.s.enal. I commission you, therefore, as officer commanding the guard of the said temple, to make inquiries of these same priests, and to take the book into your keeping, for which this present writing shall be your authority._"

The private letter was to this effect:

"_I have just learnt from Hasdrubal--and the information is so valuable that it almost reconciles me to having had to spare the villain's life--that the precious book on Agriculture is to be found in the temple of which you have charge. Lose no time in getting it into your possession. It is supposed to contain secrets of the very greatest value. Anyhow, the authorities at home attach great importance to its preservation. To lose it would be a disaster. I can rely, I know, on your prudence and energy._"

"Cleanor, can you throw any light on this matter?" asked the Roman.

"No," was the answer, "except to tell you what I know about the priests.