Total War Rome: Destroy Carthage (29 page)

‘What is it, in the baskets?' Fabius asked.

‘Tin ore, from the Cassiterides, the Tin Isles,' the man said. ‘At least, that's what the Punic sailors call the place, after the Greek name, but I know it differently. Some of us from the west of the island call it Albion, and others Britten. You see, it was my home, where I was happily going about my own business until I was snatched during a raid by a neighbouring chieftain, sold to the Gauls, traded by them for an amphora of wine to an Italian shipper, and then given by him as a present to a Carthaginian merchant to oil some deal. So I find myself here, the slave of a Phoenician captain who is about to take me by sea right back again to my home island to help load more of this stuff. I wouldn't mind so much if they shipped it in ingots, which would be easier to carry. They keep it as ore because the weight of the rocks acts as ballast in the rough seas of the Atlantic Ocean.'

‘It could be worse,' Fabius said. ‘You could be a galley slave.'

‘Or mucking out seasick elephants.' The man jerked his head down to the far end of the harbour. ‘You see that shipbuilding yard? They're building
elephantegoi,
elephant carriers. They say that not even Hannibal had specialized elephant ships like that.'

Fabius followed his gaze, and then stared at the man. He clearly had no love for the Carthaginians, and was garrulous. Fabius knew that to enquire more might have aroused suspicions had the man not been a slave, but in this case he could take a calculated gamble. He reached into a pouch on his belt and took out one of the Macedonian gold staters that Scipio had given him earlier in case they needed to bribe potential informants, and tossed it to the man. ‘Tell me more.'

The man took the coin, eyed Fabius for a moment and quickly concealed the gold. He began to talk animatedly, telling him about the elephant carriers, but after a few minutes a swarthy man appeared on deck, cracking a whip and glaring at him. Fabius shouted at the slave as if telling him off for talking to him, and then marched on. They could not risk suspicious eyes alighting on them, and stopping to talk to the slave had been pushing their luck. Scipio stood waiting at the edge of the channel linking the rectangular harbour to the circular war harbour, and Fabius hurried up to him, talking under his breath. ‘It's just as the kybernetes said. The Carthaginians are importing metal not only from Gaul, but also from the Albion Isles. That cargo is worth its weight in gold.'

They walked briskly along the portico beside the channel to the war harbour. As they approached it, an extraordinary structure came into view. The kybernetes had described it to them the night before, but even he had never seen it from the inside. The harbour was built around a circular basin that Fabius estimated at a
stade
and a half in diameter, about a thousand feet, large enough to accommodate the four-banked quadriremes and five-banked quinqueremes – called by the Carthaginians
pentereis,
their Greek name – that had traditionally been the biggest vessels in the Carthaginian fleet. In the centre of the basin was an island perhaps half a
stade
across made up of a circular structure that rose to a watchtower in the centre. The same style of roofed portico had been used around the island and the outer edge of the basin, a uniform design that made the structure more grandiose than anything yet built in Rome. Most remarkable of all, the spaces between the columns served as shipsheds, around the outer edge as well as the island; he could see the prows of warships poking out, galleys that had been drawn up on slipways. There must have been at least two hundred openings, at least half of them occupied. On the far side, a section of sheds was being used as a shipbuilder's yard, with stacks of wood and cordage visible and the partly built shells of vessels propped up on wooden formers. Only one warship was floating in the basin itself, drawn up against the wharf just beyond the entrance, a small, single-banked
lembos
that looked like the vessels that Fabius had seen at the Roman fleet base at Misenum on the Bay of Neapolis, used by crack teams of oarsmen to send people and messages faster than the larger galleys could ever manage.

Fabius remembered Polybius in the Macedonian forest ten years earlier, telling then of rumours that the Carthaginians were rebuilding their war harbour; this structure could not have been much older than that. The marble veneer was still sharp edged and mirror bright, and stacks of it lay in a mason's yard beside the entrance. The marble was a high-quality stone that must have come from Greece, and the columns of the portico were a beautiful honey-coloured stone that Fabius recognized from a stone bowl that Gulussa had shown him, from a newly discovered quarry in Numidian territory south-east of Carthage. This harbour was not some hasty half-measure, built by a people desperate to restore some vestige of their military pride, but was an arsenal far superior to anything of Rome herself or in the Greek world, a structure built by a people who confidently expected to project their power far beyond these shores once again.

He knew that Scipio would be using every moment to size up the tactical implications of a naval encounter with the new Carthaginian warships. Just before the entrance to the circular harbour was another checkpoint, this time one that Fabius knew they could never hope to penetrate, though they might be able to get close enough for a better glimpse of what lay inside. Two guards with spears firmly planted barred their way as they approached. ‘No entry without authorization,' one of them said in Greek, guessing that they were mercenaries and not Carthaginians. ‘I am the optio of the guard. State your business.'

Scipio stood before the man and saluted, holding his fist to his chest. ‘Urgent message from Hasdrubal to Hamilcar,
strategos
of the
pentereis
squadron.'

The man grunted. ‘I don't know of a squadron commander with that name, but I'm new to the job. From Hasdrubal himself, you say? I'll need to go to the admiral's island to find out. Wait here.' He clicked his fingers and another guard sauntered out from the guardhouse beside them to take his place. Looking annoyed, the optio stomped off around the edge of the harbour towards a wooden bridge that led to the island in the centre. Scipio yawned, sighed heavily and turned away from the harbour, feigning a lack of interest. He paced slowly back towards the rectangular harbour, stopping and putting his hands on his hips when he knew they were out of earshot of the soldiers. Fabius had followed him and spoke in a low voice. ‘Who in Hades is Hamilcar the
strategos?
'

‘Every third male in Carthage seems to be called Hamilcar, so the chances are there's someone with that name stationed in the harbour. I guessed that the guard at the entrance wouldn't know the name of all of the captains and squadron commanders, but I spotted a five-banked galley in the sheds opposite us, a
pentereis.
We just have to hope that the
strategos
of that squadron isn't called Hamilcar. Our chance to size this place up is now, before the optio returns, but we must be careful. We don't want to appear too interested.'

Scipio stretched, turned, and then walked back in front of the guards, peering beyond them and drumming his fingers impatiently against his thigh. ‘Bide your time, soldier,' one of the guards said. ‘It's always difficult finding people in this place. There are two hundred and twenty sheds to check, as well as the headquarters rooms on the island.'

Scipio pursed his lips. ‘You know what it's like. If I don't return to the Byrsa soon with my message delivered, I'll be for it. Anyway, I thought this place was the pride of Carthage. It should be the height of efficiency.'

The man snorted. ‘How long have you been in Carthage, soldier?'

‘Only a matter of days. We're Italian mercenaries, got into trouble while we were with Demetrius' army in Syria and ended up as galley slaves, but then slipped ship in the harbour here and offered our services to the guard before our captain could reclaim us.'

‘Well, if you're skilled oarsmen, I'd keep quiet about it. Otherwise the Carthaginians will recruit you for their war galleys. They've built this harbour and these ships, but they don't have the slaves to man them. Carthage hasn't conducted wars of conquest since the time of Hannibal, and war is the only way you get a good supply of fit men for the galleys. If you ask me, that's why they've started up this war against Masinissa again: not to conquer a few more square miles of wasteland but to capture Numidians to use as galley slaves.'

The other guard joined in. ‘They say they'll use Gauls, too, brought back as slaves by the wine traders.' He jerked his head towards the island. The optio was returning, and the two guards stood to attention. After a few minutes the optio rounded the portico and marched up to them, eyeing Scipio suspiciously. ‘There's a Hamilcar who's a captain of the triremes, currently seconded to the infantry, but not a squadron commander of the
pentereis.
In fact, there's no such squadron. There's only one of those big ships left, and it's a relic. The largest vessels in the fleet now are triremes. Unless you can explain yourself to me, I'm to take you to the admiral for questioning.'

He nodded curtly to the two guards, who stomped their legs apart and held their spears at the ready. Fabius felt his pulse quicken: this was precisely the kind of encounter that they had wanted to avoid. Scipio affected nonchalance, shrugging. ‘It was a new appointment, for one of Hasdrubal's cousins. Maybe it was more of an honorary rank. This place is so cut off that information doesn't pass often enough up to the Bysra, and Hasdrubal's eyes have been elsewhere, on the war with Masinissa. I'll return and tell him that his cousin Hamilcar is nowhere to be seen and that ships are still under construction. Maybe that will make him come here himself for an inspection.'

‘Don't do that,' the man said hastily. ‘You don't know Hasdrubal yet. If he finds fault and loses his temper, heads will roll.'

Scipio slapped him on the shoulder. ‘All we soldiers want is to go off-duty and get to the taverns, right? We were told that if we didn't find Hamilcar here, he might be in the Tophet sanctuary, as he's also a priest. We'll go and look for him there.'

‘Your nearest route is directly opposite us. I'll escort you past the guards.' The optio turned and walked to the left, heading along the southern side of the portico around the harbour, and Scipio and Fabius followed. They walked within a few feet of the docked
lembos
and past the first shipsheds, and then they veered right through a gap in the portico. Moments later, the optio had left them at the guard post and they were in the city proper, in a street that ran parallel to the high retaining wall of the harbour complex. They made their way quickly out of sight of the soldiers, and past the busy fish market that lined the street. Scipio turned to Fabius as they walked, speaking urgently. ‘Did you see that
lembos?
'

‘It looked Roman.'

‘It
was
Roman. I saw bundles of
pila
in the stern. No other soldiers carry spears like ours. And the amphorae of wine and olive oil for the crew were Italian.'

‘Captured?'

Scipio shook his head. ‘That would be an act of war, and they can't risk that until they have the slaves to man their galleys and confront us at sea.'

‘This war harbour is an empty threat until then.'

‘But it might only take one victory in the field to supply enough slaves. Once that happens, the threat is very real.'

‘We'll have to tell Gulussa to redouble his efforts not to let his men get captured.'

‘I don't think we need to worry,' Scipio replied. ‘His men will fight to the death.'

‘There's something else,' Fabius said, navigating his way around a pair of bullock carts. ‘The warships I saw in the sheds were small, most of them
liburnae,
double-bankers at most.'

Scipio nodded. ‘There were only a few triremes. That's our most important intelligence for Polybius so far. We know they haven't got the manpower for a fleet of large galleys as in the past. But last night the kybernetes said that many of the Carthaginian merchant captains have been conscripted by the state. Those men would make up a highly experienced cadre of officers for a new fleet of
liburnae,
with the oarsmen of an elite squadron perhaps made up not of slaves but of mercenaries attracted by the promise of higher pay, and a cut of the profits.
Liburnae
are well-suited to break through a blockade and take messages to allies. But they're also suited to another kind of war, perfectly in keeping with a state that prides itself on its prowess and ruthlessness in trade.'

Fabius stopped and stared at him. ‘Are you saying what I think you're saying?'

‘Some would call it trade war, taken to its logical conclusion.'

‘You're talking about state-sponsored piracy.'

‘With a fleet of this size, Carthage could sweep the seas clean of rivals, and the
liburnae
could return in safety to their lair. The profits to the state might be less in what they actually plunder than in ensuring that Carthaginian merchant ships and their trade partners have a monopoly of the sea lanes. The cargoes of captured ships could even be split among the
liburnae
crews as an incentive. With her present constitution, Rome would be powerless to stop it. Look how difficult it is getting the consuls to agree to raise the legions for a campaign that might extend beyond their year in office, giving no glory to them. Imagine the problems suppressing organized piracy on this scale. It would be a proxy war with Carthage, but would have to be fought piecemeal over years, even decades. It would require Rome to sanction an admiral with a remit unlike any other given to a war leader, and to authorize the formation of a truly professional navy. The Senate in Rome is too wrapped up in its own politics and
gens
rivalry to allow that, and Carthage knows it.'