The Lion of Africa

In the blinding sleet and rain Hannibal’s army proceeded to massacre the Romans wholesale. Both sides of his phalanx advanced on the defeated army, killing them by the thousands. Pushing forward under the cover of what was now a heavy snowstorm, the Africans pressed into the demoralized Roman center as it struggled in the slush and mud. Throwing harpoons into the fleeing Romans and dispatching others with clubs, the Africans massacred what was left of Sempronius’ demoralized legion.

            With his cavalry and elephants now giving chase to those fleeing the battle, Hannibal watched as they rode down the survivors, trampling and killing them as they ran along the riverbank and across the slippery open field.

Strickland/LION

Sempronius, seeing what was now transpiring, was overcome with sudden panic and shock. Grim reality settled into him, tripping his heart. He looked about at the faces of his men, the seriousness of the situation evident in their voices and he was further filled with a sudden uncomfortable awareness. A wave of fear filled him and his stomach knotted and turned as he watched the collapse of his army. Realizing that all was lost he turned his horse from the battle.

A tribune grabbed the reins of his steed, as he tried fleeing the field. “Consul,” the tribune shouted, his voice filled with despair, “the dying are calling for you, the living need your help! Where are you turning to?”

Sempronius jerked at the reins in the tribune’s hand, his eyes filled with terror as the Carthaginians advanced toward them without opposition. Despair filled his heart, his voice betraying him. “All’s lost.” The grim reality of loss settled in like a hard fist in his chest. “It’s over, can’t you see? We are done for. All is lost! Save yourself, you fool!”

Looking about the bloody field, a shudder ran through him, a chilly finger from nape to the base of his spine, the jagged edge of desperation knifing through his blood. Pulling free the reins of his steed, he struck his horse on the hindquarters and took flight with many of his surviving men, spurring his horse on as fast as he could into the brush.