Scipio stood for so long on the porch of the temple, unmoving and hardly seeming to notice the crowd, that Kaeso began to fear that his friend had lost his senses.
Suddenly Scipio stepped forward, raised his arms, and gave a shout. “Citizens! Be quiet! Can you not hear the voice of Jupiter speaking? Be quiet!”
The crowd fell silent. All eyes were on Scipio. He cocked his head and returned the crowd’s gaze with a look of bewilderment. At last, as if solving a puzzle, he raised his eyebrows and nodded. “No, none of you can hear what I hear—but you can hear
“Don’t be ridiculous! Hephaestion was Alexander’s equal as an athlete and a warrior, for one thing. Besides, Greeks are Greeks and Romans are Romans.”
Plautus shook his head. “Men are the same everywhere. That’s why comedy is universal. Thank the gods for that! A laugh is a laugh, whether you’re in Corinth or Corsica—or Carthage, I daresay. Every man likes to laugh, eat, spill his seed, and get a good night’s sleep—usually in that order.”
Kaeso shrugged and sipped his wine.
The playwright smirked. “Divine spark or not, your friend Scipio has fallen behind in his social engagements. Didn’t you say he intended to have me over, to celebrate our mutual success? It’s almost a month since the Roman Games, and I’m still waiting for
“You should feel lucky, then, and honored.”
“I do. It will be a very long time, I imagine, before Scipio smiles again as he smiled that night—relaxed and contented and with hardly a worry. Now the weight of destiny is on his shoulders.”
Plautus nodded. “He’s set himself an arduous task. It will make him or break him.”
“Only time will tell,” whispered Kaeso. He mouthed a silent prayer to Jupiter to watch over his friend.
After decisive victories in Spain, Scipio took the war to Africa and proceeded to menace Carthage. This was done over the strenuous objections of Fabius Maximus, who told the Senate that Hannibal should be decisively defeated in Italy rather than lured away, and who warned against the uncertainties and entanglements of an African campaign. But Scipio’s strategy succeeded brilliantly. Panicked, the Carthaginians recalled Hannibal from Italy to defend their city. Just as many of Roma’s jealous allies and subjects had eagerly betrayed her, so did many of Carthage’s neighbors. Scipio pressed his advantage. At the battle of Zama, some one hundred miles inland from Carthage, the long war reached its climax.
Before the battle, in a final attempt at negotiations, Hannibal asked to talk with Scipio, and the two met face to face in Scipio’s tent. For a long moment, both men were struck dumb with mutual loathing and admiration. Hannibal spoke first, asking for peace despite the bitter taste of the word in his mouth. He offered terms advantageous to Roma—but not advantageous enough. Scipio craved a victory, not a settlement. Nothing less would satisfy his vow to Jupiter.
Hannibal made a final plea. “You were a boy when I began my war on Roma. You’ve grown up. I’ve grown old. Your sun is rising. I see twilight ahead. With age comes weariness, but also wisdom. Hear me, Scipio: The greater a man’s success, the less it may be trusted to endure. Fortuna can turn on a man, in the blink of an eye. You believe that you have the upper hand going into this battle, but when the bloodshed and the madness begin, all the odds count for nothing. Will you stake the sacrifice of so much blood and so many years of struggle on the outcome of a single hour?”
Scipio was unimpressed. He pointed out that Roma had proposed terms of peace on numerous occasions, to which Carthage had always turned a deaf ear. Negotiation was no longer an option. As for Fortuna, Scipio was well aware of her vagaries. She had taken those dearest to him, but she had also given him a chance to exact his revenge.
Hannibal was allowed to return to the Carthaginian camp unharmed.
The next day, the two most famous generals commanding the two mightiest armies in the world advanced to battle. The closely fought contest was a test of sheer endurance for both sides. Scipio had prayed for a rout; he achieved a bare victory, but a victory nonetheless. Defeated, exhausted, abandoned by Fortuna, Hannibal fled back to Carthage.