Carthage must be destroy.., p.1
Carthage Must Be Destroyed, page 1
part #2 of Soldier of the Republic Series
Carthage Must Be Destroyed
Book two of the Soldier of the Republic series
By: William Kelso
Visit the author's website http://www.williamkelso.co.uk/
William Kelso is also the author of:
The Shield of Rome
The Fortune of Carthage
Devotio: The House of Mus
The Veteran of Rome series (9)
The Soldier of the Republic series (2)
Published in 2019 by KelsoBooks Ltd. Copyright © William Kelso. First Edition
The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
FOREWORD
Carthage Must Be Destroyed is historical fiction. Maybe more historical than fiction when compared to some of my other books. It is book 2 of the Soldier of the Republic series which eventually is going to comprise of 9 books. It will tell the family saga of Corbulo, Marcus and Fergus’s Roman ancestors and so is loosely connected to the Veteran of Rome series. In telling this story I intend to stick as close as possible to the original accounts which have been handed down to us by Polybius and Livy.
Hannibal’s crossing of the Alps is something I have wanted to write about since I was a boy reading “I marched with Hannibal”. But Rome’s heroic response to Hannibal’s genius is often overlooked which is a great shame as it reminds me of Churchill and Britain in 1940. Another magnificent story. History does then seem to repeat itself and people are essentially the same by nature now as they were 2,200 years ago.
The 2nd Punic war between Rome and Carthage was a momentous time in the ancient world leading to the emergence of Rome as a global superpower. If the war had turned out differently and Rome had been defeated it is likely that Europe would not have become Christian and generations of schoolchildren would not have had to learn Latin at school. Think about that for a moment.
Book 3 of the Soldier of the Republic will be published in September 2019.
ABOUT ME
Hello, my name is William Kelso. I was born in the Netherlands to British parents. My interest in history and in military history started at a very young age when I was lucky enough to hear my grandfather describing his experiences of serving in the RAF in North Africa and Italy during World War 2. Recently my family has discovered that one of my Scottish/Northern Irish ancestors fought under Wellington at the Battle of Waterloo in 1815.
I love writing and bringing to life the ancient world of Rome, Carthage and the Germanic and Celtic tribes. It’s my thing. My aim is to write 100 books in my lifetime. After graduation, I worked for 22 years in financial publishing and event management in the city of London as a salesman for some big conference organizers, trying to weave my stories in the evenings after dinner and in weekends. Working in the heart of the original Roman city of Londinium I spent many years walking its streets and visiting the places, the names of which still commemorate the 2,000-year-old ancient Roman capital of Britannia, London Wall, Watling Street, London Bridge and Walbrook. The city of London if you know where to look has many fascinating historical corners. So, since the 2nd March 2017 I have taken the plunge and become a full-time writer. Stories as a form of entertainment are as old as cave man and telling them is what I want to do.
My books are all about ancient Rome, especially the early to mid-republic as this was the age of true Roman greatness. My books include, In Defence of the Walls of Rome (1), The Shield of Rome, The Fortune of Carthage, Devotio: The House of Mus and the nine books of the Veteran of Rome series - Caledonia (1), Hibernia (2), Britannia (3), Hyperborea (4), Germania (5), The Dacian War (6), Armenia Capta (7), Rome and the Conquest of Mesopotamia (8) and Veterans of Rome (9). So, go on. Give them a go.
In my spare time, I help my brother, who is also a Winston Churchill impersonator, run his battlefield tours company which takes people around the battlefields of Arnhem, Dunkirk, Agincourt, Normandy, the Rhine crossing and Monte Cassino. I live in London with my wife and support the “Help for Heroes” charity and a tiger in India.
Please visit my website http://www.williamkelso.co.uk/ and have a look at my historical video blog!
Feel free to write to me with any feedback on my books. Email: william@kelsoevents.co.uk
Chapter One – We Will Win
Early December 218 BCE
“That’s eleven yards exactly,” Flavius called out, as he crouched on the ground holding his measuring stick. By his side, Cassia said nothing as she dutifully recorded the measurement on her wooden tablet with an iron-tipped stylus pen. The two of them were alone and it was eerily quiet. Stiffly Flavius got to his feet and turned to stare at his plot of land on the banks of the Po river. It was early in the morning and it was cold. Across the empty fields and silent forest, a layer of fresh snow had fallen blanketing the landscape in whiteness. Flavius sighed as he gazed at the dark angular lines in the snow, which he’d drawn on the high ground above the banks of the river. The layout for where his beautiful new house and carpenter’s workshop would stand was clear and if it was up to him, he would start building it right away. But he couldn’t. Not with the war with Carthage rapidly approaching.
“What do you think?” Flavius said turning to his daughter.
For a moment Cassia said nothing as she stared at the layout, in the snow, that the two of them had drawn and measured that morning. They made a good team, he and Cassia, Flavius thought. He enjoyed being out and about with his youngest daughter, even as he needed her to record the measurements - for Cassia could write and he could not. The young fifteen-year-old woman’s nose and cheeks were glowing from the cold as she clutched her pen and writing tablet. Her long blond hair hung down to her shoulders and she was clad in a thick fur cloak.
“I think it will be a fine house, papa,” Cassia replied with a little approving smile. “I can’t wait to see it finished.”
Flavius grunted as his eyes swept over the layout of the buildings. That was his sentiment too. The spot he’d chosen to build his new home was a good one. The high ground above the river bank would protect it from flooding and it would afford him a commanding view of his square plot. It was for this land that he had uprooted his family and brought them north on the dangerous journey to the Gallic frontier. This land, and the promise of a new start made all their sacrifices worthwhile. The makeshift crowded and dirty tent city inside the colony of Placentia, where he and his family had been living for nearly half a year was, however, becoming unbearable. The yearning to start building his new home was growing more and more urgent, but the colony authorities had banned the colonists from leaving the fort. No settlers were to be allowed to move out to live on their plots of allocated land. Not until the threat from Hannibal and the unrest amongst the Gauls had passed. Flavius sighed. And there was no way of knowing when that would be.
“One day papa,” Cassia said sensing her father’s mood, “one day they will let us start building it. We must be patient.”
Slowly Flavius turned to his daughter and reached out to affectionately grip her shoulder.
“What made you so wise?” Flavius asked with a little amused smile.
“Mother told me that we must be patient,” Cassia replied, lowering her eyes.
“Ah,” Flavius said as he abruptly turned away.
An awkward silence followed. Looking suddenly tired, Flavius turned to stare at the dark lines he’d drawn in the snow. His rugged face was creased and weighed down by the strain of multiple responsibilities and his blond hair needed a haircut. But for a forty-four-year-old he was still in good physical condition, apart from the permanent limp he’d picked up at the battle of Telamon.
Shifting his gaze to the old oak tree that stood nearby, Flavius rubbed his stubbly unshaven cheeks. As the head of the family he had the lawful right to do with his wife and children what he pleased. His relationship with Agrippina, his wife had however become badly strained soon after he had allowed Julian, his youngest son to leave for Rome. He’d given Julian the Gallic king’s sword he’d won as a prize at the battle of Telamon and told him to seek out the house of Publius Cornelius Scipio in Rome. It was for the best. The boy was at a dangerous age, rebellious and impulsive, without a thought as to what he wanted to be. It would be easy for Julian to fall in with the wrong company. But if there was one thing he knew about his youngest son, Flavius thought, it was that with the right guidance he would become a fine soldier. He had the qualities to make an excellent professional soldier. He’d recognised that. He’d seen that in Julian. So, he had done the only thing that he could. He had let Julian go. It had been the right decision and he had no regrets - for Julian was poised to run away to join a group of Gallic mercenaries if he hadn’t. But Agrippina had been furious that he had not consulted her. His wife had been upset that he’d let her son go, accusing him of betraying his promise. A promise that he would never let his children go. Flavius sighed. His wife was just worried about Julian. Agrippina feared that she would never see him again. The quarrel between husband and wife had howeve
“Your mother is wise and strong,” Flavius said at last, breaking the silence.
“I know and so are you papa,” Cassia replied breezily.
“Come,” Flavius said, quickly changing the subject. “Let’s go over to the forest and make an inventory of what type of trees we have. Then we should be getting back to Placentia. We cannot be late for work.”
“Papa. Look,” Cassia said suddenly as she raised her hand and pointed. “Strangers.”
Hastily Flavius turned to look in the direction in which his daughter was pointing. Emerging from the forest and slowly and purposefully plodding towards them across the snow-covered fields, were two figures accompanied by a large hunting dog. The men were armed with spears and hunting bows were strapped across their backs. They looked like Gaul’s.
“Papa, that’s looks like Aura, Octavia’s wolf,” Cassia cried with sudden excitement.
Guardedly Flavius peered at the strangers. His daughter’s eyes were better than his own and she was right. As the two men approached, he relaxed as he recognised Victorix. Padding along at the Gallic hunter’s side, Aura, the white, nearly fully-grown wolf looked sleek and deadly, its yellow eyes staring at them. The wolf pup, which Octavia had rescued during the journey to Placentia earlier that year, had grown up. She had known it was going to happen one day but that had not stopped Octavia from crying her eyes out on the day Flavius had given the wolf to Victorix. The beast had become too big to keep within the confines of their tent and its appetite for meat had become insatiable. It would have a better life out in the wild with an experienced hunter like Victorix he had told his daughter, but it had provided little comfort to Octavia.
As the two men and Aura approached, Flavius raised his measuring stick in greeting and called out to his friend. But Victorix did not return the greeting, and as he came up to him Flavius saw that the hunter was in a foul mood. Fury was sown across the Gaul’s face edged with something else – despair. Quickly the friendly smile vanished from Flavius’s lips as he caught sight of the tell-tale signs. Something was wrong. At Victorix’s side his companion, a tall lanky boy of around fifteen with a shock of Celtic red hair, looked equally depressed.
“They told me I could find you out here,” Victorix said, speaking in Latin and staring at Flavius with a hard, uncompromising look.
“We were just measuring the layout for our new house,” Flavius replied.
“So, you have not heard the news,” Victorix growled.
“No. What news?”
“Hannibal has sacked Taurasia,” Victorix hissed darkly. “The capital of the Taurini has been set ablaze and its inhabitants massacred by these Carthaginian invaders and their scumbag Boii and Insubres allies. Thousands have been murdered.”
Victorix paused as he lowered his gaze. Then he looked up at Flavius, his eyes smouldering.
“My wife’s family lived in Taurasia,” Victorix hissed. “The Taurini were her people. I had many relatives amongst them. All of them have been slaughtered, men, women and children. All my wife’s family are dead. Hannibal’s men took no prisoners. The only survivor is my cousin here. His name is Gallus and he only survived because of luck. He was out hunting on the day when Hannibal and his army arrived. The poor boy has lost everything.”
Flavius swore softly as he turned to stare at Gallus. “I am sorry. We have not heard the news,” he muttered.
“Yeah, well now you have,” Victorix snapped. “Gallus escaped. He came to me. Together we have sworn revenge for this massacre. I shall not rest until scores have been settled. Hannibal and his Boii and Insubres allies are now our enemy, just like they are yours.”
Flavius nodded as he gazed at Victorix and his cousin. During the seven or eight months that he’d known Victorix, the two of them had become close friends hunting together, whenever they could, in the vast wild forests along the Po. Victorix was the finest hunter he had ever met. He knew the land along the Po valley like the back of his hand and he was a deft hand with his bow.
“What will your people do? What will the Cenomani do?” Flavius asked.
“They will do what they have always done,” Victorix hissed bitterly. “They will try and stay out of this fight but, if forced to choose, the elders will side with Rome.”
Victorix paused and for a moment he glanced at his young cousin.
“I need to speak with you, Flavius. You once asked me to provide you with information on Hannibal,” Victorix said, turning his attention back to Flavius. “You asked me to use my relations amongst the Taurini to spy for you, for Rome. Well I and Gallus are here to offer you our services. We offer you our services free of charge and without conditions.”
For a long moment Flavius said nothing as he stared at the two Gaul’s. Then at last he nodded.
“Good,” Flavius said. “This is good news. I can use your help.”
“The boy is fifteen,” Victorix snapped gesturing at Gallus. “He does not speak Latin, but he has courage and he a good hunter and he knows how to use his eyes and ears. He can slip into the Carthaginian camp unnoticed and report what he sees and hears. No one will suspect him. They will think he is just another of the thousands of my countrymen who have come to enlist in Hannibal’s army. That’s how we will start. With your permission. I want vengeance for my murdered relatives.”
Flavius turned to stare at the lanky, red-haired youth. He had not been expecting to discuss this kind of business in front of Cassia but needs must. It was his other job. The secret agreement he’d made with Trebonius, the fat Roman senator who was trying to set up a network of spies and informers to combat Carthaginian intelligence activity. As part of his agreement with Trebonius, Flavius had agreed to become his spymaster in the north. He was responsible for setting up spying operations and networks that could provide Rome with valuable intelligence on Hannibal and Carthaginian movements and intentions. The organisation which Trebonius had set up was still in its infancy, with just three members and beset by senatorial critics and political enemies but there was something about Trebonius which gave Flavius faith. The fat youthful senator was going to make it a success. It was a job where he Flavius had initially struggled to make a start but now Victorix had just provided him with his second break – his second network.
“It’s a good plan,” Flavius said, as he studied the youth. “Is he aware of the dangers if he is caught?”
“He is willing to die to avenge his family.”
Flavius nodded. Gallus however seemed not to have noticed that they were talking about him. His eyes had become fixed on Cassia with sudden and growing interest. At Cassia’s feet, Aura had lain down on the ground and was allowing Cassia to ruffle his white fur. As Cassia straightened up, she blushed with sudden embarrassment as she noticed the way Gallus was looking at her.
“Rome needs all the help it can get,” Flavius said, turning to Victorix. “I accept your proposal. When will you and Gallus be ready?”
“We will start right away,” Victorix said, oblivious to the silent exchange between his cousin and Cassia. “And I have some more news. I have heard that after Taurasia, Hannibal intends to come here and burn your fort to the ground. He is going to do the same to Placentia as he did to Taurasia. All you Romans are to be massacred. That is all that my countrymen are talking about right now. Hannibal is setting an example to those who dare defy him. It’s all part of his strategy to gain the support of my countrymen. If I were you, I would get your family out of Placentia whilst you still can. More and more of my countrymen are flocking to Hannibal’s banner. His army is growing in strength with every passing day.”
“Rome will win,” Cassia suddenly blurted out. “We will win.”
Across from her, Victorix paused as he turned to look at Cassia. Standing at her side Flavius glanced at his daughter, surprised by the sudden strength of the resolve in her voice.
