Rome’s numbers equaled that of the enemy — two cavalry units to the side, with infantry in the center. However, Scipio had changed the formation of his infantry, splitting them into cohorts’ numbered close to five hundred men, creating gaps between the formations, which ran three lines deep and across.
Lack of mobility had cost the Republic deadly in the past, so it was hoped that this time the army would be able to adapt to any situation that may arise once the fighting began.
The Numidians, who had begun the war on the side of the Carthaginian, stood to the right of Rome’s line. He did not trust them, so he needed his men to perform beyond expectation if he hoped to break through the Carthaginian cavalry.
He needed to flank the enemy, encircle and attack them from the rear while the main force pushed into the center. It was a tactic that had worked for centuries and one that had been used successfully against his people five years ago.
The officers’ attention turned to Scipio who had finally arrived. Saluting, the men went silent, their eyes following Scipio as he rounded the table and took his place.
“Gentlemen, you must excuse my tardiness. I will not spend more time than is needed. I know that each of you is eager to get to the battlefield and win this war for the Republic,” Scipio said as he stood before his officers.
“It has been a long and costly endeavor to reach this point, hasn’t it my friends? Each of us has lost much: men, family, land and wealth. I’ve picked each of you for your past valor,” Some of the old guard couldn’t help but sneer at Scipio’s comment, which he let pass.
“Today, we will make Carthage know what we as a people have endured in this war, a war that was not of our making. We will make them suffer as we have. And our victory today will not just end this war, but it will send ripples across the world to all those who would dare raise arms against the Republic. Today is the first day of our nation’s destiny.”
Scipio began to reposition several of the blue and red figures, anticipating how he believed the opposing army would react.
Gaius studied Scipio as he carefully laid out his strategy to his generals.
Scipio was an unassuming man who hardly exhibited the qualities of a great leader. He was only ten years older than Gaius; twenty-eight.
Like everyone in the room, Scipio seemed much older than his years, maybe more so as his hair had already begun to recede from his scalp and several deep wrinkles settled under his exhausted eyes. And while he was still able and ready to fight, Scipio’s eyes told a somber story of a man that was weary of war and death, which included his own father, who died in the opening stages of the war now seven years past.
He led his legions through Italy, to Spain, into Greece and now finally to Africa, the home of Carthage. His strategies turned the tide of the war. However, even he knew that no Roman living or dead, had beaten the Carthage army led by one man, Hannibal. That fact weighed heavily on his shoulders and on each man in the room as they listened carefully to every word.
Gaius was deep in his own thoughts, staring down at the wooden figures, picturing in his mind how the battle might play out, and did not notice that Scipio finished his briefing.
Standing silently Scipio stepped back from the table, looking at each officer intently before speaking again.
The officers nodded their agreement. They knew that this battle would be remembered for ages to come. This was their moment, their chance to right all the wrongs that had befallen their country. Seven years of tireless war was coming to an end.
Scipio walked around the table as each of his generals’ eyes was glued to him.
“Like our forefathers who drove the last Etruscan kings from our homeland, and those who kept the northern barbarians at bay for all these centuries, we, today, shall etch our own names into the altar of our beloved Republic’s history. The world will know that no nation, now or ever shall equal our might; that no matter the losses or the cost, the Roman Republic shall forever burn the brightest in the entire world.”
Scipio embraced each of his officers as friends and comrades alike, as if it were the last time he would see them again. He preferred speaking to them as equals, even if some in the room did not respect him for it.
Gaius was one of the last that Scipio approached, purposely so.
“You stood alone on the walls of Rome, my friend, when all others ran away. I know that above all other men in this room I can count on you and the Sixth the most. Help me win this war, Gaius, and we can all return home to those we love.”
“Victory or death,” Gaius replied.
“
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
More than, an hour later, Gaius stood alongside a number of officers, including Scipio astride his white horse, surveying the Carthaginian lines, which stretched for several miles. The strategies laid out during the meeting changed very little. For the most part, what he saw was what he had placed on the map. Gaius hoped the general’s foresight would prove just as fruitful when the fighting started.
“Well, I guess it was too much to ask for him not to show up, or just surrender,” Commodus, one of the generals besides Scipio commented with a smirk.
“By the gods’ man, do not say such things. Not when we’ve come all this way,” another officer spoke.
Each man chuckled lightly before Scipio put his heels to his horse’s side, urging the steed forward as he spoke.
“Come and let’s see what our esteemed colleges have come to say.”
He and his men rode the short distance across the field of battle to meet the Carthage contingent. The two armies were separated by five thousand paces; only the cracked and scorched earth separated them, which soon would run red with blood.
The two groups stood poised for a moment, staring at each other, sizing up the opposition before Scipio broke rank and trotted toward the enemy riders. One of the Carthaginian officers did so as well.
Gaius and the other Romans remained where they were, but they would still be near enough to hear the conversation between the respective generals.
Gaius had to narrow his eyes to get a better look at the Carthaginian commander across from Scipio, as the two men stopped their horses a few feet across from one another. And after a moment of close observation, it dawned on him that the officer could only be Hannibal Barca.
Hannibal became the most feared individual in Roman history — a man who single-handedly brought the Republic to its knees, killer of tens of thousands. Gaius had never seen him in person, until now, although he had faced the general’s army once before.
During the long cold nights in the Roman camp, soldiers around the fire wondered if Hannibal was a god, for all that he had accomplished in such a short time. He seemed to be conjured from every man’s worst nightmares: cold, calculating, deceptive and cunning to a fault. It was hard not to admire him. He may have given Alexander a challenge worthy of history.
Hannibal was not what Gaius had expected. Rumors were many: He was a giant of a man standing fifteen feet tall. He wore armor fashioned by the gods rendering him indestructible. He had the gift of foresight, so he knew in advance how to defeat any army sent against him, and that his sword possessed the souls of every man whom Rome had slaughtered in its history. Many more legends had surrounded him, but what Gaius saw now, seated on horseback before the most celebrated Roman general of this era, was not the villain he had pictured.
Hannibal was no small man. He had a large build and broad shoulders; clearly, he trained to be a warrior from birth. Despite his fame among his own people, he was not dressed in the attire of an officer or nobleman but was far less expensive and impressive. He was covered by a simply-made leather chest piece, which was worn and badly scratched from decades of use. He wore no helmet; numerous scars lined his bald head and rough face. His horse was no different than the animal that his senior officers rode. His sword, which was longer than a Roman blade but made from the same Spanish iron, hung low on his left hip. It seemed generations old, and had probably
