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Against Rome |
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Back to section iii of this chapter V. Dorix, The Alps, 218 B.C. iv When
the elephants had crossed the Rhodanus, Hannibal gave a great cheer, echoed
swiftly by everyone on both sides of the river. He was much relieved. While
the remaining men on the west side came quickly over, Hannibal formed up the
elephants and the remaining men, summoned his outlying cavalry, and marched
rapidly north, making ten miles that evening before he had to camp. He hoped to
catch up with Hasdrubal Gisgo and the rest of the army quickly. The
cavalry came up just before dusk and was set out to trail Hannibal and the
elephants by five miles on the next day’s march, in case Publius Scipio should
be so close. The
army itself had orders to keep moving north until Hannibal caught up. With
two days’ marching to make up behind his army, Hannibal hurried, catching up
with the main body in three days just south of the confluence of a small river
with the Rhodanus. They did not know its name. They had crossed the Rhodanus
north of where the wide Druentia joined it, so they did not have that to cross,
and the way north held only a few small tributaries to deal with. But
shortly after Hannibal and the elephants joined the main army, with the cavalry
still following behind, they reached this confluence, on October 1st—and
were greatly surprised to find two Gallic armies facing off to fight. On
seeing Hannibal’s host suddenly appear over the horizon, the locals, a branch
of the Allobroges, halted almost upon the point of clashing together. Suspense
hung over the field. Hannibal sent emissaries to both groups, seeking to learn
what was going on. The emissaries returned shortly, one group having been
rebuffed, the other having been greeted cordially enough. These learned that two
brothers were contending for the local leadership. With
studied casualness, Hannibal ordered his troops to set up camp where they were.
The local forces looked on at this behavior for a while, then withdrew
themselves. That
evening, one of the two brothers approached Hannibal in his camp. After
exchanging greetings and gifts, he said: “We
had heard rumors of your coming, but we had no idea that you would be this far
north.” The man was perhaps in his forties, slim and very well dressed in the
Gallic fashion, with a bright red shawl over one shoulder, knotted around his
neck. His name was Brancus. “I’m
as surprised as you at being here,” Hannibal assured him. Brancus
got right to business: “I come beseeching your aid against my brother, whose
claim has no merit, for I am the elder brother.” Hannibal
studied Brancus for a long moment, calculating. “I
will help you,” he said. As
it turned out, Hannibal had calculated well. The next morning, he visited
Brancus’s headquarters, located in a place called by the locals “the
Island.” This was really a long peninsula in the area north of the confluence
of the two rivers—the tributary, which the locals called the Agas, came at the
Rhodanus perpendicularly but then veered south for several miles almost
paralleling the Rhodanus before finally joining it. Hannibal
found the Island heavily populated and the source of a bounty of grain. In
exchange for his aid, Brancus provided Hannibal with as much grain as he could
carry into the Alps, along with replacements for many of the army’s worn-out
weapons. Both
of these boons came at a good time and would prepare the army well for its
Alpine crossing. In addition, Brancus supplied Hannibal’s men with much new
clothing and many boots. And he promised to guard the army’s rear as it
entered the greater territory of the Allobroges, which went a long way towards
alleviating the Carthaginians’ fear of marching through difficult terrain
surrounded by possibly hostile forces with whom the way had not been greased
with gold. Now
for the Alps. “Brancus,
I intend to move farther north before starting east into the Alps. What’s the
best route east, say within fifty miles?” Hannibal asked. “Hmm.
I thought you had guides from across the Alps already?” “Yes,
but they know only the route that leads up the Druentia.” Brancus
thought for a moment. “If
you did not wish to go farther north than fifty miles—you do wish that?” “I
do,” Hannibal said. He very much wanted to be well out of range of the Romans
before he turned east. “And
you want to go north no more than fifty miles?” “No
more than that.” “Then
you must march about thirty miles due north, then turn northeastward until you
encounter a large river. That is the Druna. Then stay with the Druna until it
bends far north and then again south,” Brancus said. At
that point, Brancus told him, he must strike due east up a small stream. This
would take him through a difficult valley and then an easy pass, but once beyond
those, Hannibal could easily reach the Druentia River, his original route but
well east, past the range of mountains before the Alps, and beyond the Romans’
reach. From there it would be easy to march into Italy up the Druentia. “Why
not continue on the Druna and avoid the difficult valley?” “Because
you would march up into the mountains to the very headwaters of the Druna,”
Brancus said, “with nowhere to go from there.” As
Brancus promised to supply guides and a cavalry escort as far as where Hannibal
must leave the Druna, he would have no trouble finding this “difficult
valley.” And
so Hannibal set off on the fourth day of October. It was far from his original
plans, but given the Roman presence and his need for haste, it would have to do. “You
should not trust Brancus,” Maharbal remarked as he and Hannibal rode side by
side, the Island now out of sight to their rear. “Why?” “He
used you to get what he wanted.” “And
I used him for the same reason.” “He
got the better of the bargain.” “Well,
that’s debatable, Maharbal. But what’s really on your mind?” Maharbal
paused, looking into Hannibal’s face—some distance it was, given that
Hannibal rode Surrus, his elephant, while Maharbal was on a horse. “I
don’t trust the route he suggested. It’s that ‘difficult valley’ that
worries me. What makes it difficult?” “Brancus
didn’t say.” “Nor
did you ask, as I think you should have, Hannibal.” “Perhaps.” “Surely
there are alternatives.” “I’ve
spoken at length with our guides about that, and they assure me there
aren’t.” “And
you trust them? Really, Hannibal, you trust too much. I fear we’ll come to
regret your faith in these Gauls.” Before
Hannibal could reply, Maharbal kicked his horse and galloped ahead. Next section of V. Dorix, The Alps, 218 B.C. Back to Top
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