Julia was angry, her words resentful and bitter. She obviously wanted to hate her father, but seemly could not bring herself to say it. It was the way the world was, they both knew it: as the daughter of Varro, she had her obligations, and it was within his right to do what he wanted with her — marry her to whomever he desired, her heart only got in the way.
Gaius pulled Julia back so he may look into her eyes, and said, “I feel as if I have been waiting my whole life for this moment. There hasn’t been a day that has gone by that I haven’t thought about you. I have prayed to the gods many times for precisely one chance to tell you how I’ve felt — only one chance to confess that I love you. However, I cannot change what we are or what the fates have in store for us. All I know is, right now, we have this moment, which no one can take away from us.”
Gaius held his stare for a while as his words sunk into her heart, which brought a faint smile to her face as he continued, “I’ve loved you for so long, Julia, and I will continue to do so for many years to come. Nothing will ever change that, not as long as the sun rises and falls…I will love you with my whole heart.”
Julia leaned close and kissed Gaius once more, softly.
They treasured their shared feelings, staying the rest of the night at top the hill that overlooked Rome. They wanted their time together to last for all ages to come. This was their moment, and the affairs of their lives could wait a little while longer.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The screams of the dying beast carried over the battlefield, adding to those of the thousands of men wounded and dying, which littered the ground with limbs, entrails and flesh, saturated in pools of crimson blood and glinting metal of iron and armor.
Hannibal’s attention was not focused on the dying Romans, which his men eagerly dispatched from this world with joyful purpose. Instead, his gaze fell upon one of his elephants, which had been speared numerous times in the belly, which now lay on its side, riving in agony as it stomach was sliced open, pilling entrails across the snow-covered field.
The smell was horrific, but the creature’s dying cries were worse as with each shallow breath, the trunk sprayed misty blood from its nostrils, which showered down on the warriors who tried to put the creature out of its misery. However, its thrashing made it difficult for the dark-skinned hunters to finish the beast off.
Hannibal sighed with a worried heart as that elephant was the last he brought with him across the Alp, a dozen already having died during the long and cold journey, the remainder killed by Roman spears. He had once hoped they would have made a greater difference in his campaign, perhaps lasting another two or three battles.
He watched with unblinking eyes as a Numidian hunter carefully crept towards the elephant’s head, with a spear raised, ready to strike.
With one powerful thrust, the deed was done as the spear tip burst through the animal’s eye socket, rupturing through its iris, and tearing all the way into the elephant’s brain. A fraction of a second later the animal stopped moving.
One of the lead hunters ordered his men to begin harvesting the elephant’s meat, which could still be used, and another group to remove the long tusks, which could be sold.
Other cries of agony also carried over the battlefield, but they weren’t ended with as much care or concern as Hannibal watched his Celtic allies, perhaps too eagerly, walk among the wounded Romans, torturing them by hacking off limps, appendages, or gentile while the men attached to them were still breathing. The already dead were plundered of any wealth they might have carried: iron, coins or trinkets were prized among the barbarians.
Hannibal detested the methods of his allies. His enemies, even if they were the despised Romans, deserved better treatment — a quick end with a spear through the heart than the sadistic pleasure the northern tribes took in murdering their continental neighbors. However, Hannibal wouldn’t dare say a thing. While he would never allow his Carthaginian warriors to act as the Gauls, he needed the barbarians more than he cared to admit. They only joined his crusade at the promise of treasure, glory and blood. Without them, this war would end before he ever came within view of Rome’s city walls.
Regardless, Hannibal expected more from Rome. The battle that followed his crossing of the Alps was not what he expected or had heard of from his father’s stories, of the bravery, cunning and skillful art of warfare and famous Roman discipline that won them many battle in the past, including the war with his mother country, Carthage many decades earlier.
His opponent, Hannibal knew was more capable than this. Co-Consul of Rome, Scipio the Elder was already renowned for past glories against Carthage, pirates and rebellions across the Republic. Even so, and with great disappointment, a stray arrow, fired from afar struck the consul in the early minutes of the battle. With Scipio out of action, the Romans soon lost heart as their officers, outnumbered were subsequently overwhelmed. What followed would be utter slaughter.
Scipio’s body hadn’t been found, and Hannibal doubted it would be. Early reports told him that the general was taken by his son, who shared the same name, off the battlefield and was now heading back to Rome. The body of a consul of Rome could have gone a long way to bolster Hannibal’s ranks, no less the moral of his tired and hungry men. Regardless, he knew this victory would do for the meantime. He was now footed in Italy, and soon Rome would know that they had underestimated him.
More would come — legions upon legions would be sent against the invaders. Hannibal knew he would soon be outnumbered, and more than likely many of his barbarian allies would run and return to their homes, once their thirst for blood had been satisfied and their backs loaded with as much Roman gold they could carry. However, Hannibal did not fear what was to come. He did not set out on this campaign without considerable planning. This war was not one of shortsighted ambition. It would be long and grueling, and he would have to sacrifice everything if he was to achieve his ultimate goals in the end.
Hannibal’s attention was turned as Braca, a trusted friend who commanded the Numidian cavalry rode towards him. He was a dependable friend, one now that Hannibal had to turn to as he had sent his brother Mago back to New Carthage to ensure that his supplies from Spain to Italy could not be cut.
“My General,” Braca spoke as he pulled his horse alongside Hannibal. “My riders have been combing the Roman dead, but we have yet to find the body of Scipio among the fallen. I believe the Romans are taking him back to their city. At best, they might have several hours on us.”
“And what about the consular’s staff?”
Braca shook his head as he answered, “Taken from the field. Even so, we did find the pay chests. We could give pursuit for the staff if you wish.”
Hannibal thought about the matter a moment longer, scratching the rough stubble on his chin as he took a drink from his water skin. He wanted the staff as much as he would have liked Scipio’s body. They meant nothing in terms of value, but the Romans and his allies, both were powerful symbols that he could use to rally more to his cause. However, with a heavy sigh, Hannibal knew what he must do.
“Do not worry yourself longer. We have to consolidate our position here until the rest of our troops, and supplies come down from the mountain.”
“And what of these…creatures?” Braca asked sarcastically as he glanced over his shoulder, directing his words toward the Gauls who looted and murdered the Roman dead and wounded; the wounded cries continued to carry over the battlefield as they were gutted alive.
“I do not trust them. How do we know they won’t head back north, now that they have their victory over a Roman consul, and enough wealth to keep them drunk through the next two winters?”