Hannibal's Children (39 page)

"What are those?" Norbanus said, pointing to a line of mastlike timbers that towered above the battlements. Whatever they were attached to was invisible behind the wall. From the top of each dangled a long rope and some device of chains and hooks, but distance obscured the details.

"Anyone's guess," Mucius said. "They look too long and spindly for catapult arms, but people in this part of the world seem fond of their machines. For all I know, they hold up the awnings for their circus."

"There's a familiar face," Norbanus said, almost whispering.

"Eh?" said Niger. All of them tried to see what Norbanus was looking at. Right above the gate a man leaned on the battlement, his arms spread wide. Beside him a woman gazed out at them. "You think that's him? I can't make out a face at this distance. His outfit looks Roman."

"It's Scipio," Norbanus affirmed. "I'd know that traitor from a mile away on a dark night in Donar's Wood." His voice was easy and conversational, but it carried an edge that made his companions study him. "When I triumph, I will drag him in chains along the Via Sacra and up to the Capitol and I will hurl him off the Tarpeian Rock with my own hands."

"You won't get a triumph for this war," Cato said.

"Besides," Niger added, "Rome isn't officially at war with Egypt, and Scipio's just advising Ptolemy in a war with Hamilcar. You can't charge him with treason for that." He was their superior but they were not in awe of him. Military commands were political appointments and every one of them had more experience in military command than Norbanus. Alliances could change and any of them might end up in charge.

"What we do here is just politics," Mucius said, "even if there's a bit of fighting involved."

"Nonetheless," Norbanus told them, "when I triumph, I will drag him in chains along the Via Sacra."

The conference was held in Hamilcar’s great tent. There was no banquet this time, no sacrifices other than the ones customary for such an occasion. Beside the Shofet sat the general Mastanabal, resplendent in a coat of gilded scales, his plumed helmet held by a slave who stood behind him. He looked supremely pleased and confident, still puffed up by the victory of several days previous. He did not accord the Romans credit for the victory any more than did the Shofet. Near them sat the higher Carthaginian officers and the commanders of the mercenaries.

Norbanus and his officers sat across from them. In a subtle way the balance had shifted. Hamilcar was no longer dismissive of the Romans. He accorded them some deference and the others perforce must follow. This did not go so far as to give them credit for the victory, but it was an acknowledgment all the same.

"Tomorrow," Hamilcar began when the cups were filled, "shall be a momentous day. At first light we shall commence the assault upon Alexandria. The gods of Carthage will smile upon our endeavors." He looked around him and smiled. "As, I am sure, shall the gods of our esteemed allies." If the Romans looked astonished at the idea of Jupiter, Juno and the rest smiling upon a Shofet of Carthage, he affected not to notice.

"The naval forces are now in place. As we attack the western wall, the navy will attack the harbors and the island of Pharos. Before noon tomorrow, you will see my banners flying from atop the great lighthouse." His followers applauded politely.

"A brave sight, I am sure," Norbanus commented, wondering if the Shofet really thought such a trifling gesture to be significant.

"Your legions will have the honor of leading the first assault on the walls," Hamilcar said.

"An honor we must respectfully decline, Shofet," Norbanus said casually.

Hamilcar frowned. "Refuse? How so? Are you Romans not justly famed for martial prowess? Are you cowards that you fear to commence the assault?" Mastanabal and the other Carthaginians of high rank watched them with sardonic expressions, happy to see the arrogant foreigners put into such a position: Accept extreme peril or stand revealed as cowards.

Norbanus seemed not at all bothered by the situation. "My Shofet, generals of Carthage, we are all soldiers here. We know quite well that Alexandria will not fall to the first assault, nor to the second, nor the third. But a great many men will fall in those assaults. You do not waste such soldiers as my legionaries in this costly but necessary business. For this, you use those great mobs from your subject cities, the ones of whose loyalty you are doubtful. They accomplish the necessary work and their loss hurts only those cities you hold in subjection. My advice would be to send them in and station behind them those excellent pikemen sent to you by King Lysimachus of Macedon. Those pikes leveled at their backs should give them any encouragement they might need."

It was some time before the Shofet spoke. "I see. And I suppose you would prefer to remain in reserve?" Hamilcar glowered and his generals all but sneered.

"Oh, by no means," Norbanus said. "In fact, I envision for us a task that is both extremely demanding as well as hazardous. If I may?" He snapped his fingers and a team of Roman slaves entered the tent, carrying on their shoulders a table. They set it on the carpet-covered ground and the occupants of the tent gathered round with interest. It was knee height, perhaps eight feet by five feet, and upon it had been built a detailed scale model of the city, including the Pharos Island, the harbors and the lakeshore.

"This is marvelous," the Shofet said, intrigued in spite of himself. "Did your artisans really construct this since our arrival here?"

"Most of it," Norbanus said. "We already had drawings and surveys to work from and many of the buildings were made in idle hours while the men trained."

"And the origin of these drawings and surveys?" Hamilcar asked, reminding Norbanus that he was no fool.

"Certain Romans have visited Alexandria in recent months," Norbanus told him.

"Certain Romans have visited Carthage as well. Do you possess a model like this of my own city?"

"It is a matter of standard procedure with us," Norbanus said, knowing it was a touchy moment but understanding that protest would sound feeble.

Hamilcar smiled. "I'd have crucified you all if you had denied it." His generals laughed uproariously, as if this were the most hilarious prospect imaginable. "Now, show me your plan."

From one of the slaves Norbanus took a pointer. "The harbor and the western wall are the logical places to assault. You want to deny the Alexandrians the use of their harbor, and it is a weak spot. You could ferry a force to the east and cut them off from reinforcement from that direction, but it makes sense to leave them someplace to run. An army or a city can be demoralized, knowing that an unguarded back door is open."

"As you demonstrated at the recent battle," Hamilcar said.

Norbanus inclined his head slightly. "That leaves the lake frontage." With the pointer he indicated the narrow bench of land between the southern wall and Lake Mareotis. "The wall here is relatively low, weak, and ill-defended. Also, this is Alexandria's access to the Nile."

"It is tempting," Hamilcar said, "but the strip of land is too narrow for offensive maneuvers. It won't support enough troops, we can't get our siege towers onto it and every bit of it is under enemy missile fire. It's no wonder the Alexandrians didn't bother to build their walls high there."

"Give me that part of the operation," Norbanus said. "Let my legions work at the southern wall, and I will cut Alexandria off from the Nile and provide Ptolemy with amusement from that quarter."

Hamilcar stared at the frail strip of land on the table, then at Norbanus. "Are you mad? You will be slaughtered! There is no cover between the wall and the lake."

"We are good at this kind of fighting," Norbanus assured him.

"My Shofet," said Mastanabal, "it seems that these Romans indeed want to take the hero's role. I urge you to let them do as he asks. Why deny them the opportunity to earn so much honor?"

"Why, indeed?" Hamilcar said. "General Norbanus, I agree to your plan. At first light tomorrow, commence your operations against the southern wall of Alexandria."

The Roman party left. Norbanus was smiling and the others were pleased as well.

"That was well done, Titus," Lentulus Niger admitted. "You got us out of a stupid frontal assault and made him think that it's we that will get killed. How long will he stay hoodwinked?"

"As long as necessary," Norbanus said. "Tomorrow his attack will be repulsed, but he'll be happy because he'll see his pretty banner fluttering from the top of the lighthouse. The next few days he'll be enthralled by the sheer spectacle of it all and he won't notice that he's losing men in droves while we're taking hardly any casualties at all."

"He'll notice eventually," Cato said. "If nothing else, Mastanabal will point it out to him."

"By then he'll have accomplished little or nothing while we've cut off Alexandria from the Nile and made good headway at taking the southern wall. He can't argue with that."

"He won't argue," Cato said. "He'll send in his own men to continue the work once he sees how it's done, then he'll order us into the next assault on the western gate. What then?"

"Then," Norbanus said, "it will be time to renegotiate our agreement with our friend the Shofet Hamilcar."

Titus Norbanus was on Hamilcar’s battle tower when the assault began. He was not needed at the southwestern corner of the city, where his own legions were about to commence their operations. His subordinates knew their tasks to perfection and he was not needed there. A pity, really, he thought. He would have liked to lead his men personally for the sake of the honor, but this was not truly to be a battle. It was more like an engineering project. There would be nothing for him to do, while here, at least, he would be able to observe.

The tower commanded a fine view across the necropolis to the western wall of the city, as well as a good deal of the Eunostos harbor and the Pharos. It made a splendid sight as the sun began to rise from somewhere behind the city. The towers and temple roofs of the splendid polis began to gleam and the bizarre artificial hill of the Paneum took misty shape in the distance.

"A fine morning for battle, eh?" said Hamilcar, in fine high spirits as his dreams were about to be realized. He sat on his golden throne, strewn with the skins of rare beasts, while his commanders stood around him.

"I cannot imagine a finer," Norbanus said, accepting a cup of warmed and spiced wine from a slave. It was early in the day but this occasion justified a bit of luxury.

"My Shofet," said Mastanabal, "I beg your leave. I must go and take charge of my men."

"Go, my friend, and may Baal-Hammon stand by your side this day."

The general beckoned to his officers. "Come." He donned his helmet and strode down the ramp that descended fifty feet or more to the ground below. The Shofet was left with his slaves, a small group of counselors and bodyguards, and Titus Norbanus.

"Something is different over there," Norbanus said.

"What?" the Shofet asked.

"Those mast-things. They're gone. Where are they?"

Hamilcar peered toward the city. It was now light enough to see that the towering timbers were, indeed, gone. He shrugged. "We don't even know what they were. It is no matter."

This, Norbanus thought, was most likely true. Still, it was an anomaly, and war was full enough of surprises without such worrisome matters. "Will your navy attack first, or the soldiers?" he asked.

"The same signal will start them both," Hamilcar said. "But the ships will reach their objectives first, so the first blood will be drawn on the water." He gazed proudly out to sea, where his fleet was drawn up in a vast, crescent-shaped formation, ready to swoop down upon Alexandria like a great bird of prey. The Alexandrian fleet awaited in three straight lines just without the mouth of the harbor, a mighty fleet but not so large as Hamilcar's. Behind it a great chain stretched from a fort on the northwestern corner of the city to the western end of the Pharos, blocking the harbor entrance. Taking Pharos would give Hamilcar control of that chain, as well as the other that blocked the Royal Harbor.

The sun rose gloriously above Alexandria, and Hamilcar took this as an auspicious moment to begin the battle. He raised his hand and the drums began to thunder. The soldiers below raised their shields and shook their spears and roared. At the same moment, at sea, the oars of the Carthaginian fleet rose and fell and churned the sea to foam all in unison. Men and ships surged forward. Titus Norbanus had never before seen a sight so stirring. This, he thought, was what it meant to be a king: to set such a thing in motion by raising your hand.

The army moved forward on a front a half-mile wide, but it had to divide into many files to pass through the necropolis, like a vast parade taking several roads through a city instead of only one. They were still more than two bowshots from the city wall when something strange happened: Abruptly, the mast-things appeared once more above the city walls as if swung up by the arms of giants. As they ascended, enormous slings swung from their terminals, climbing in huge, graceful arcs until an end of each was released. From each sling soared an object, small in the distance, to mount an incredible height, and then come back down with dreamlike slowness.

Only when the missiles landed among the tombs did the watchers understand how large they were. They were stone balls of at least five hundred pounds' weight and when they hit, they shattered into flesh-shredding fragments, caromed off the walls of tombs, rolled down the alleys and toppled rows of men like pieces in a game played by gods. The carnage was fearsome and the advance faltered.

"What are those things?" Hamilcar cried.

"Some sort of giant staff-sling," Norbanus said. "It must use a new principle. Twisted ropes can't power those things. They have three times the range of ordinary catapults." He watched, saw the masts being hauled down and did some mental calculations. "You must press the assault hard. Call in the Macedonians if you have to. Those weapons are high-trajectory and they must take a long time between shots. Once the men are within bowshot of the city, they're safe from those things."