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Against Rome |
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Back to section i of this chapter V. Dorix, The Alps, 218 B.C. ii The
next morning, Hannibal sent out five hundred Numidian cavalry to see where the
Romans actually were. Still in or near Massilia, or were they out looking for
him? If he were Roman, he’d be out looking. As
this would take some time, he turned to other matters as soon as the troop had
ridden out trailing a fog of dust. Above
all, he started moving the elephants across the river. Then
he brought together his lieutenants for a conference with a group of chieftains
of the tribes in Italian Gaul, who had crossed the Alps to meet with him. There
were sub-chieftains from three of the major tribes—the Insubres, the Cenomani,
and the Boii—led by Magalus of the Boii. The Taurini, however, the first tribe
they would probably encounter when they descended the pass, did not send an
envoy. That troubled Hannibal, but there was nothing to be done about it. Despite
that conspicuous absence, this meeting was so encouraging that Hannibal
assembled the troops and let the Gauls address them directly. Before the massed
troops, Hannibal introduced the chieftains, explaining where they were from and
why they had come. The
chieftains spoke in turn, each with an interpreter turning his words into Punic.
The words were then relayed further by other interpreters into the various
languages that the army spoke. The
chieftains assured the soldiers that they would find themselves most welcome in
the lands just beyond the Alps, and that farther into Italy they would be able
to claim much booty. Many Gauls beyond the Alps would certainly join their noble
cause against hated Rome. These chieftains themselves would be leading
Hannibal’s army across the mountains. When
the chieftains’ message had been repeated in translation, Hannibal spoke to
the men of their achievements so far—deeming the time just after a successful
fight the most opportune for the message he’d been waiting so long to
deliver—and urged them to take heart. “Wait
until you see Italy!” he finished. At
this, the troops gave a great cheer. When
Hannibal dismissed them, the men left the assembly in a fine humor, just the
effect that Hannibal had hoped for. It was time to prepare the men for their
next great task, and today would go a long way towards that purpose, for he had
introduced to them for the first time his intention to cross the Alps. And they
had cheered. *
* * Now
a game of cat and mouse ensued between Hannibal and the Romans, with each side
misstepping enough to cause considerable confusion. While
Hannibal had been dispatching his Numidians to probe for the Romans, sure
enough, the Romans had scouts out looking for Hannibal as well. It was late on
the day Hannibal sent out the Numidians that the Romans encountered them. There
was a quick skirmish, from which the Numidians withdrew in haste. *
* * “They
ran like hares,” the cavalry decurion boasted when he reported in to Publius
Scipio later. “The Numidians may not be so formidable as they’ve been made
out to be.” This estimation was his second mistake. Publius Scipio dismissed
him with a chilly glare. Although
Publius Scipio did not realize it, the Numidians’ real purpose was to report
back to Hannibal at once rather than engaging. Instead of also returning at
once, however, the Roman scouts elected to pursue the Numidians to within sight
of Hannibal’s camp before breaking off. Because of the pursuit, they did not
report back to Publius Scipio until late the following day—too late for him to
march immediately. This had been the cavalry decurion’s first mistake. “Before
first light,” Publius Scipio ordered. “We march with as little baggage and
clutter as possible. I want speed.” *
* * When
Hannibal received his cavalry’s report late the same day he’d sent them out,
he called his lieutenants together again and made a mistake of his own. “It
appears our Numidians have encountered the Romans’ forward cavalry screen,
which means the legions could be as close as twenty miles south of here. We must
not risk battle, so let’s make haste. Meanwhile, we’ll keep our own screen
of cavalry out to warn of any closer Roman approach.” “Must
not risk battle?” Mago asked. “I thought
we came to fight Romans.” “No,
we must not,” Hannibal said patiently. “Do you know why?” Mago
wrinkled his brow for a moment. “Because
the real battle is in Italy, not here?” he said finally. “Precisely.” Hannibal
did not realize, however, that the Romans were much farther away to the south,
this notion being his mistake, or that they would not in any event learn of his
whereabouts until the following day. His
original intention had been to follow the Druentia River, the southernmost major
tributary of the Rhodanus, up into the Alps, leading to the Montgenèvre Pass,
from which he could descend into the Padus River Valley in its far west, north
of the capital of the Taurini tribe. With
the Romans so close, however, the easy route through the Alps, depending on what
the scouts learned, might be out of the question. He’d have to take a more
northerly route into the mountains—throwing off his calculations,
especially without adequate intelligence about the terrain, the peoples,
and possible alternative routes, but this he must accept. The last thing he
wanted now was a battle with the Romans in Gaul, depleting his strength still
further before the assault on the Alpine passes and possibly leaving him far too
shorthanded once in Italy. That
he could beat Publius Scipio he did not for an instant doubt. But even a victory
would be a waste. With
this belief driving him, Hannibal set to work in great haste. First,
he sent the infantry on up the Rhodanus as fast as they could march. Their
commander, Hasdrubal, son of Gisgo, was to keep them going for four days, then
wait a day, then continue, and so on, until Hannibal and the elephants caught
up. Next,
he posted most of his cavalry ten miles to his south—finding in the light of
day that the Romans were not yet closer than that. “Stop them there,” he
told Maharbal. “You must give us time to get away—including the
elephants.” Since
Spain Hannibal had known he must get the elephants across this exceptionally
wide river. But how? A
plan had been hatching since before the arrival at the Rhodanus and had already
been put into play as soon as the men and horses had crossed, so that it was
already well along. He’d
had no trouble crossing any of the rivers in Spain or any so far in Gaul. But
those had all been smaller rivers with suitable fords. The Rhodanus was a much
greater river—six or seven hundred feet wide here, and by his engineers’
soundings, at least seventy feet deep. Nor was it much shallower or narrower for
a great many miles upriver. It
was Mago, actually, who came up with most of the key elements of a workable way
to ferry the elephants across. “They
can swim, but the river is very deep and very wide,” the mahouts told Mago. It
was obvious to all that they must ferry the beasts across on rafts. The
Carthaginians had experience loading elephants on ships, but of the hundreds of
boats at their disposal, none was big enough for the task. The engineers told
Hannibal that with some help they could supply as many as twenty rafts of logs
lashed together, each 25 feet square, in two days, assuming suitable timber was
readily available, and men to cut it. No,
the rafts were no difficulty. The problem was simply how to get the skittish
beasts onto them. “If
a raft is 25 feet square, how many elephants can we take on it?” Mago asked of
one of the mahouts, a man of the far Indus long in Carthaginian service, who had
been summoned to join the plotting. “In
that space, no more than three,” the mahout said, briefly scratching his old
bald pate. “They will be fearful once they are surrounded by water and will
huddle together in the center. I have seen it.” “Let’s
see—thirty-seven elephants, three per raft—we’ll need twelve or thirteen
rafts,” Mago said, now unfurrowing his brow with a huge smile. “No,”
Hannibal said, “the full twenty,
to get as many as possible of the wagons across, too. It’s time to lighten our
burden—we’ll never get siege artillery across the Alps anyway. We’ll bring
over as many wagons as we can, most of them with food or weapons, and abandon
the rest. Anything we leave behind, dump it in the river so the locals can’t
use it. They’ve not earned any rewards from me.” Mago
nodded. “Now,
how do we get the beasts onto the rafts?” Hannibal asked of all present. There
was considerable head scratching. Again
it was Mago who suggested the best solution: “If the rafts are made to look
like a road—covered with straw and dirt—the elephants might be led onto
them. Let’s see, we could lash the rafts together in pairs to make the
‘road’ wide, stretching out into the river. That would surely help.” “Excuse
me,” the mahout said. “Eh?” “It
is easier to control the females than the males. They are more docile.” From
there, the rest of the solution presented itself, piece by piece. Now
Hannibal had the whole thing in motion. The first rafts had already been made by
that morning. Engineers
built the rafts at water’s edge, using flotation to bear the finished portions
while they tied on more logs. They lashed two completed rafts to the bank,
side-by-side. Then they lashed a second pair of rafts to those, extending
farther into the river. Then two more, and so on, until seven pairs made a
fifty-foot-wide jetty jutting 175 feet into the river. As the jetty extended,
they guyed its components to large trees upstream with long ropes, supporting
the whole structure with many guys. Then long lines of men covered the jetty
with a layer of earth and straw, so it looked more natural, somewhat like a
road. Now
to see if it would work. *
* * Dorix
grabbed Borix’s arm. “Hurry!
They’re about to take the first elephants across.” All
around them, men were moving towards the river to watch. While the rest of the
army had gone north, Dorix and Borix were among those who stayed with Hannibal,
put to work chopping trees, which the elephants then dragged to the river. Dropping
their axes, they followed the crowd. When they arrived bankside, elbowing their
way to a good vantage point, the rafts were all in place. Several boats with
strong oarsmen were attached to the outermost downstream raft. Then the mahouts
led out the most docile female. She
rolled her eyes and balked a bit as she was first led onto the rafts, but with a
little soothing she soon calmed and submitted to being led out to the end, where
she stood panting a little. When an oar snapped under the strain in one of the
guy boats upstream, the elephant jumped and it took long minutes to calm her
again. Dorix
nudged Borix in the ribs. Next
they led out one of the less docile males, a big fellow with only one tusk who
kicked up something of a fuss but eventually settled down and permitted himself
to be led to the cow, though he stood next to her rolling his eyes. Finally,
they took out a fairly docile male, who caused no trouble at all. All
along both shores, soldiers watched in suspenseful silence. Dorix held his
breath. The
moment the three elephants were in place, the engineers cut several ropes to
unlash the raft. The
crowd along the shore gasped audibly. The
raft swung out into the stream. At
this sudden motion, the animals bellowed and, just as the mahout had predicted,
huddled together. The oarsmen heaved to their sweeps. “Gods!”
Borix said. His eyes looked as large as the elephants’. In
twenty minutes, the raft was across and the elephants unloaded on the far bank.
The raft they released to float off towards the sea, considering it too much
trouble to bring it back to the west bank and then upstream to the jetty again. Standing
on shore, Hannibal and his staff set to shouting and whistling. Men all along
both riverbanks cheered. It was going to work! Dorix
whacked Borix on the back. “What a tale we’ll have!” As
soon as the first load was well away, they repeated the process with a new trio
of elephants, first attaching the tow boats. This
time there was trouble. At
midstream, one of the bulls panicked and ran to the edge of the raft. It
teetered there as the raft dipped under its weight, flooding its feet. Then,
bellowing in terror, it plunged off and immediately drowned, its mahout letting
go his perch on the beast only at the last second to swim for his life,
chattering loudly in some Indian dialect. The swimming mahout managed to cling
to the raft. When
the raft tipped up as the falling beast’s weight bore down its edge, the two
other elephants screamed and tumbled off, mahouts clinging to their harnesses as
they fell. These
elephants, however, swam safely to the far shore, mahouts still on their backs. But
the process went smoothly after that, continuing most of the day. Dorix
and Borix continued to watch, enthralled, for the next two days, whenever they
could slip away from their axes. From
lashing up the already-built rafts to getting the thirty-seven elephants and the
last of the many wagons across, two days. Dorix
felt drained when that was over, even though he’d only been a spectator. “Now,
isn’t this worth everything?” he asked Borix. Next section of V. Dorix, The Alps, 218 B.C. Back to Top
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