Hannibal broke the long awkward silence first as he tilted his head in a respectful manner.
“It is an honor to meet you, General Scipio,” he spoke in perfect Latin; his voice easily carried over the desert floor.
Scipio had no kind remarks to exchange with his rival. He moved his horse back and forth while Hannibal remained still. What this display of power was doing to Scipio’s mind, Gaius could only imagine. If it was apprehension, Scipio did not show any signs.
“What are your terms?” Scipio demanded, louder than Gaius had ever heard him speak before this day.
Hannibal smiled at Scipio’s blunt speech.
“You have come a long way. Many soldiers have given their lives to defend your Republic bravely, I might add. There is no need for us to sacrifice the lives of our men further — not today, and hopefully never again.”
Scipio smiled as he reined in his horse and learned forward over his saddle, crossing his arms over the pommel.
“You wish to surrender then?”
Hannibal managed a faint smile. “No. I only convey my government’s terms.”
“Then enough with your pitiful pleasantries, I grow bored. Let us finish this tiresome conversation and tell me your terms,” Scipio repeated.
Gaius could plainly see Hannibal’s officers’ displeasure at Scipio’s disrespect. They held their place a few feet behind their general and dared not interrupt the proceedings.
“My Senate has issued the following terms for Rome: To end the war between our nations, once and for all, Carthage offers Rome full control over the Spanish territories, plus Sicily, Sardinia, and a guarantee that neither, I, nor my country, will ever again raise arms against Rome or its allies, directly or indirectly. Along with these terms, the Senate agrees to pay your Republic an annual sum of fifteen million aureus for the next ten years,” Hannibal seemed to force his words between his gritted teeth as if someone was forcing him to say them against his will.
Scipio’s smile widened as he positioned his horse closer to Hannibal before he gave his reply.
“My dear general, Rome already controls these lands. We took them, from you and your brother, or has your memory faded in your waning years?” Scipio let his mocking words sink in before he continued.
Hannibal grunted at him with contempt, but maintained his composure.
“My army is at your country’s doorstep. I think, general that I will bring my terms to your Senate personally, once I have razed Carthage to the ground, and disbanded this excuse for an army you have brought to meet me.”
Hannibal leaned closer to Scipio. “You forget that my army lies between you and Carthage,” Hannibal replied with an icy glare.
“Oh, it does, does it?” Scipio replied.
“You would be foolish to sacrifice your life, and the lives of your men. Do you do this in an attempt to defeat me on my own soil for the sake of glory or reward? If so, don’t be a fool, Roman, when needless bloodshed can be avoided. What my government has offered you are more land and wealth than your Republic could have hoped to achieve in a hundred years. Take the offer and remove your forces from my country with the satisfaction that you have won. Your celebrity is assured.”
“Oh, my fame will be earned when you rabble has been ground into the dirt, general.”
“Hannibal smiled. “You know who I am. I doubt that you have brought anything I have not faced, and crushed, before,” Hannibal sneered.
“And you know who I am. When you are defeated, I will have earned more fame and wealth than I can imagine. It will make me immortal in the eyes of my people. However, that is not why I refuse your offer.”
Scipio drew closer to Hannibal, his words low and hard — the bitterness in his voice conveyed the anger of millions who had suffered since Hannibal started the war years ago.
“You brought this war to my people, to my homeland — and for what? You have killed so many, entire villages, cities, generations of people, and for what?”
Of course, Hannibal did not answer.
“You came to my homeland for your own glory, which was fueled by hatred against people who never offended you personally. You destroyed much, and have taken many lives, and none of it was for your people, your country, or for justice — only for your selfish ends. You are a monster, Hannibal whose terror will end today. I will destroy your army, and with it, your legacy. There can be no other way to end this war.”
“Then that is how it must be.”
A smile appeared on Scipio’s face as he sealed the fate of his men. He stood, higher in the saddle, as he presented Rome’s official response to Hannibal’s terms.
“General, I’m afraid that on the behalf of the Senate, the People, and the Republic of Rome, I cannot accept, in good conscience the offer that your government has proposed.”
Hannibal sneered with an annoyed grunt as he pulled the reins of his horse, forcing the animal to turn as he prepared to rejoin his troops.
“You are either brave, or very foolish. History will decide which.”
Scipio turned and rode past each of his waiting officers who followed one-by-one. However, Gaius noticed that one of Hannibal’s men had not turned and joined his general, but remained seated on his horse, staring at him with a sinister grin — dangling in his massive fist was an object that he recognized immediately.
Gaius’ right hand flew down to the hilt of his sword at the sight the clay medallion that dangled on a leather string between the soldier’s fingers, seemly taunting him with it. However, he steadied himself, slowly taking his hand off from his sword. To draw it while the Carthaginian and Roman generals were still on the field would have violated the brief truce.
“My dear friend, it has been so long since last we met,” Calfax’s voice was harsh and mocking. His Latin was bad, every word spoken as if it were an insult.
“Look at you; your desire for revenge must be overwhelming. You can barely contain yourself. But that pitiful sense of honor is standing in your way isn’t it? You want this back, don’t you? It was your friend’s after all,” Calfax mocked as he moved his horse nearer to Gaius.
“This is the way it should be, just like in the arena, two warriors standing against one another — not with forty thousand me between us ready to tear each other apart. Don’t you agree, Roman?” The very word, Roman, was said with so much hatred that Gaius’ skin crawled.
“Strike me down, young Roman. It is easy. Put your hands down on that sword and draw it. Take my life and have your revenge upon me. Forget all of this. Forget your duty and sense of honor, and just kill me — you know you want it this way. Let these fools fight. Their struggle means nothing compared to ours.”
Calfax waited as he threw open his arms, exposed his powerful chest, inviting Gaius to attack.
Despite his hatred for this man, Gaius did not give into his darker instincts and lash out.
“You are no fun, not like he was.” Calfax gestured to the clay medallion. It hung around his neck, among other trinkets that had belonged to other Roman lives he had ended.
“He whimpered like a baby when I slit his throat,” Calfax said. “I trust when you face your end, you will have more courage than he did?”
Gaius leaned in closer to Calfax. He wasn’t going to play the gladiator’s games any longer.
“On the field, to the south, I will be there. I will find you, and we will finish this once and for all,” Gaius finally spoke as he dug deep to draw on as much courage as he could find. His words, thankfully, were firm, because Calfax’s presence was terrifying. The man feared nothing and no one. Gaius knew he had to be strong before him; the old gladiator could smell fear like a dog and would exploit it without hesitation.