"Master!" Glaphyra gasped. "Do you not trust in our art and our gifts? You must not fight tomorrow!"
"I believe implicitly in your predictions and your mastery of your art. But, you see, all battles are not fought to win glory."
"We do not understand, Master," Roxana said.
"That is very good. You do not understand what I intend and neither do my officers. That means that Hamilcar will never guess what I have in store for him."
That afternoon, Norbanus stood atop the battle tower he had had erected at the edge of the field. It was higher than usual, shaded with an awning and equipped with all the signaling gear he would require. As his scouts had foretold earlier that day, the army of Hamilcar was marching onto the far side of the field, regiment after massive regiment of them. With great interest, Norbanus studied the units as they arrived, peering through Selene's unique gift. As always, he marveled at how the device made distant things seem so much nearer. With it he could make out the details of standards, the shapes and colors of shields, making it easy to identify the units as they arrived and deployed to their camping sites.
This was very important, for he knew that the camping arrangement would correspond closely with their order of battle. Old Hannibal had made it a doctrine of Carthaginian military practice that, in deployment for battle, no unit should cross another's path of march unless it be for purposes of deception.
On the extreme left of the Carthaginian camp he saw Spaniards: famed not only for their savagery but for toughness and endurance. In the middle was a huge mass of Gauls. These were ferocious in the attack, but had a reputation for faltering if the first mad rush failed to carry the day. On Hamilcar's right, the southern end, the Greek and Macedonian professionals were setting up a neat and orderly camp. These were the principal nations, but many others were there as well, most of them skirmishers, slingers, archers and horsemen. They were men of Libya and Numidia, of the desert and nameless nations of the African interior. There were light cavalry of a sort he had never seen before: men in trousers and long-sleeved jackets and pointed caps. He guessed these might be the Illyrians. Norbanus paid them little attention. Controlling Hamilcar's main battle line was the key to tomorrow's fight.
"General," said Cato, "I make their numbers to be at least twice our strength."
"No matter. We've destroyed barbarian armies many times our own numbers before." He handed the magical little device to Niger, who snatched it and scanned the enemy camp feverishly.
"What I see over there isn't a great mob of disorganized tribesmen. Those are hard-bitten professional soldiers and warriors under tight discipline."
"If their strength doesn't bother you," Cato said, "what about the news that his navy showed up in the harbor of Cartago Nova this morning?" He jabbed a finger toward the city, just visible in the distance to the south. "Why didn't we take that town when it would have been easy?"
Norbanus sighed. "Because it did not suit my purposes. I have a plan for that city."
Niger handed the device over to Cato. "Perhaps it's time for you to explain just what that plan is."
"All in good time." Norbanus leaned over the railing and called for a herald. An olive wreath encircling his brow, the man appeared on the platform minutes later, draped in a white robe, holding a staff of hazelwood. "Go to the camp of Hamilcar," Norbanus instructed. "Extend to him my invitation to confer just before sunset at the stream. Neither of us is to be accompanied by more than two companions, the armies to remain in their camps." The herald repeated the message, bowed and left to deliver it.
"Don't go, General," Niger advised. "He'll do something treacherous. Let some of us go to deal with his officers."
"But that would be unworthy," Norbanus said. "And he won't do anything to besmirch the victory he is sure he will win. Now he's seen our army, and he has every confidence in his chances."
Niger closed the optical device with a horny palm. "He buggering well has a right to be confident."
That evening, as the sun lowered in the west, Norbanus rode out, accompanied only by Niger and Cato. His spectacular armor was freshly polished to reflect the rays of the setting sun and cast them back toward the enemy. His splendid cloak, Jonathan's gift, billowed out behind him. He rode a gleaming black stallion and was perfectly aware of the picture he made. His companions, more soberly attired, frowned, but as they approached the stream their faces smoothed into the impassive Roman mask, drilled into them since youth as the only proper expression to assume when dealing with foreigners.
Hamilcar arrived at the stream at the same time as the Romans. He, too, was splendidly arrayed, in golden boots, gold-embroidered purple tunic and robe. On his brow rested a circlet of gold attesting his royal status. Behind him rode an armor bearer who held his sword and helmet, in token of his military mission. Beside him rode a woman who was bizarre even to the now well-traveled Romans: a veritable Amazon with yellow hair and blue eyes and tattooed all over. She looked more like a goddess of some savage race than a proper companion for a civilized monarch.
"Greetings in the name of the noble Senate of Rome," Norbanus said. "I have not seen you in far too long, Shofet."
"You have come up in the world, Norbanus," Hamilcar said, taking in the lion-mask helmet and the abundance of royal purple the Roman general wore. "I would remind you that I was already at the crest of the world when you were still living in some obscure German fort."
"And this must be the famous Queen Teuta of Illyria, of whom we have heard so much." He bowed slightly. "Greetings, Your Majesty. I rejoice to meet you at last."
She glared at him with the coldest eyes he had ever seen in a female face. "You are a jumped-up peasant from the North. Perhaps you are empowered to speak on behalf of your Senate, but do not presume to address us on your own behalf."
Norbanus smiled. "I believe I am here to confer with your ally, the Shofet Hamilcar."
Hamilcar radiated boredom. "Speak, Roman. It grows late."
"Well, then. Would you like to surrender to me now?"
"Don't be absurd!"
"I had to ask. Protocol, you know. Then shall we fight tomorrow?"
"Why should I fight at a time and in a place of your choosing?"
Norbanus made a show of looking all around. "Does this field not suit you? I couldn't find a better. It's level; there are no nearby hills to hide surprise reinforcements; there's a clear field of view for miles in all directions. If you know of a better place, I am willing to listen. As for the time, it makes little sense for us to sit here with our two camps glaring at each other, our men eating up all the food in the area and the horses devouring all the grass. More convenient all around to fight it out now."
"It hardly matters, since I will crush your contemptible little army in an hour."
"Tomorrow morning, then, at first light?"
Teuta snorted. "And fight with the sun in our eyes, like Mastanabal?" She ignored Hamilcar's irritated glance.
"Noon, then," Norbanus said. "With the sun at zenith, nobody will have the advantage."
"Tomorrow, then," Hamilcar said impatiently. "Tomorrow at noon I will destroy you, and the gods of Carthage will prevail over the gods of Rome."
"We'll be looking forward to it," Norbanus said. He made a sketchy but graceful double bow toward the shofet and the queen, then wheeled his mount and trotted away.
"The arrogance of that man!" Teuta said. "Did you see that helmet? It's the one Alexander wore in his portraits. He thinks well of himself.
"I did not fail to notice that little detail," Hamilcar said. "It is degrading to speak with such an upstart. At least Alexander was a king, and the son of a king, although of an obscure country."