Sulemain
Banned
The 6th of August, 216BCE.
Rome.
The Senate.
“We cannot and will not countenance any terms that would have us surrender Italy! It would insult the gods, and our noble forebears to do such a thing, to surrender land that has been paid for in Roman lives and blood!”
The Senator’s words were defiant, but they were the words of a desperate man. Carthalo knew fear, he had seen it before. And this man and his compatriots feared him. Or, more precisely, they feared who he represented. Hannibal Barca, Heracles reborn, who had smashed every Roman Army driven before him. None of those victories had compared to Cannae though, and the great victory there. The largest Roman Army ever assembled, smashed beyond recognition. And with the victory, came the defections; the southern cities of Italy, the Hellenic colonies on the coast. He said as much to the assembled Senators.
“Surrender? That implies Italy is still yours to give. Already Capua and Tarentum have joined our cause. Their wealth and power supports ours. They have joined together with the Hellenes to create a free and democratic Italian League, apart from Rome. Phillip V of Macedon fights with us. The reborn Alexander is preparing to march from the East with his army. The Gauls north of the Po have joined our struggle; the entirety of the central Meditarian marches against this city and its Senate. But divine Athena rewards wisdom as much as the blessed Baal Hammon rewards might, so Carthage is prepared to offer advantageous terms to Rome.”
Silence created his speech, before a Senator Carthalo did not recognise stood to speak. His eyes were full of hate for Carthalo and all he represented, but also a deep seated weariness. He walked with a limp and a cane, but remained tall and proud, the bearing of a wounded soldier.
“Speak your terms, Carthalo, so that we may hear them. But know that Rome does not suffer insolence or ill-intent well. We are battered, but remain unbowed, unbent, unbroken”.
Carthalo paused for effect, looking around the Senate room, at the faces of Rome’s wealthiest and powerful citizens. He recognised a host of emotions, anger to be sure, but also fear and worry. And maybe a smidge of hope. He would kindle that hope while exploiting the fear.
“Carthage desires the return of Sardinia and her possessions in Sicily. Rome is also to recognise the independence of the Italian League as an independent state, and a friend of Carthage. All Roman territory and interests outside of Italy are to be rendered null and forfeit, apart from Corsica, which, whilst demilitarised, is to remain under the control of the Roman Republic.”
His terms inspired much shouting and rage, as he was accused of the basest of blasphemy and the greatest of sins. Words like piety and honour were bandied around, as if they could shield off the iron clad fist of Hannibal’s army.
The turmoil eventually subsided, and Carthalo decided that it was time to offer the alternative of hope.
“Carthage has no interest in ceasing control of central Italy, however. The Etruscans and other friends of Rome shall remain as such. Nor shall Rome suffer financially. We desire no gold or civil from you.”
The assembled worthies had turned from rage to some sort of angry contemplation.
And now Carthalo rolled his best dice.
“Think of your sons, gentleman of Rome. Hannibal, blessed of Melqart and Heracles reborn, has broken every Army sent against him. At sea, our mighty fleet, rebuilt after so many years, controls the waves. Would you send your sons against the gods divinely ordained plan, against their chosen champion? Rome is famed for its piety. Act in that spirit now, gentlemen, and enact a divine peace.”
And with that flourish, Carthalo knew he had them.
Rome.
The Senate.
“We cannot and will not countenance any terms that would have us surrender Italy! It would insult the gods, and our noble forebears to do such a thing, to surrender land that has been paid for in Roman lives and blood!”
The Senator’s words were defiant, but they were the words of a desperate man. Carthalo knew fear, he had seen it before. And this man and his compatriots feared him. Or, more precisely, they feared who he represented. Hannibal Barca, Heracles reborn, who had smashed every Roman Army driven before him. None of those victories had compared to Cannae though, and the great victory there. The largest Roman Army ever assembled, smashed beyond recognition. And with the victory, came the defections; the southern cities of Italy, the Hellenic colonies on the coast. He said as much to the assembled Senators.
“Surrender? That implies Italy is still yours to give. Already Capua and Tarentum have joined our cause. Their wealth and power supports ours. They have joined together with the Hellenes to create a free and democratic Italian League, apart from Rome. Phillip V of Macedon fights with us. The reborn Alexander is preparing to march from the East with his army. The Gauls north of the Po have joined our struggle; the entirety of the central Meditarian marches against this city and its Senate. But divine Athena rewards wisdom as much as the blessed Baal Hammon rewards might, so Carthage is prepared to offer advantageous terms to Rome.”
Silence created his speech, before a Senator Carthalo did not recognise stood to speak. His eyes were full of hate for Carthalo and all he represented, but also a deep seated weariness. He walked with a limp and a cane, but remained tall and proud, the bearing of a wounded soldier.
“Speak your terms, Carthalo, so that we may hear them. But know that Rome does not suffer insolence or ill-intent well. We are battered, but remain unbowed, unbent, unbroken”.
Carthalo paused for effect, looking around the Senate room, at the faces of Rome’s wealthiest and powerful citizens. He recognised a host of emotions, anger to be sure, but also fear and worry. And maybe a smidge of hope. He would kindle that hope while exploiting the fear.
“Carthage desires the return of Sardinia and her possessions in Sicily. Rome is also to recognise the independence of the Italian League as an independent state, and a friend of Carthage. All Roman territory and interests outside of Italy are to be rendered null and forfeit, apart from Corsica, which, whilst demilitarised, is to remain under the control of the Roman Republic.”
His terms inspired much shouting and rage, as he was accused of the basest of blasphemy and the greatest of sins. Words like piety and honour were bandied around, as if they could shield off the iron clad fist of Hannibal’s army.
The turmoil eventually subsided, and Carthalo decided that it was time to offer the alternative of hope.
“Carthage has no interest in ceasing control of central Italy, however. The Etruscans and other friends of Rome shall remain as such. Nor shall Rome suffer financially. We desire no gold or civil from you.”
The assembled worthies had turned from rage to some sort of angry contemplation.
And now Carthalo rolled his best dice.
“Think of your sons, gentleman of Rome. Hannibal, blessed of Melqart and Heracles reborn, has broken every Army sent against him. At sea, our mighty fleet, rebuilt after so many years, controls the waves. Would you send your sons against the gods divinely ordained plan, against their chosen champion? Rome is famed for its piety. Act in that spirit now, gentlemen, and enact a divine peace.”
And with that flourish, Carthalo knew he had them.
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