USATodaybestselling author STACEY KENNEDY has written more than fifty romances. Her books are about real people with real-life problems, searching for that special thing we call love in a very sexy way. When she’s not burning up the pages, she’s living her happilyever-after with her husband and two children in southwestern Ontario. She’s a firm believer that wine, chocolate, and sinfully sexy books can cure all of life’s problems.
Published in Great Britain 2024 by Afterglow Books by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishersLtd 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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For my devil in blue jeans... J.T., our love story will always be my favourite.
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Dear Reader,
TheDevilinBlueJeansexplores emotional healing in the aftermath of infidelity, the death of a parent, and a devastating car crash. Please always read with care.
Be gentle with yourself!
StaceyKennedy
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Cover About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright Note to Readers
Dedication
Dear Reader
Prologue
One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Epilogue
About the Publisher
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Prologue
“C
harly, if you take another step up this mountain, I will shove you over the edge.”
Halfway up the Absaroka Mountains, Charly Henwood glanced over her shoulder. Her best friend, Aubrey Hale’s blue eyes glared in warning as she panted heavily, sweat dampening her shiny blond hair.
“We’re not even at the top yet,” Charly pointed out. “Just take a few breaths and we’ll be done soon.”
“I hate you,” Aubrey groaned.
Charly fought her laughter as she glanced to the third member of their trio, Willow Quinn. She shifted the large backpack around her shoulders with her usual sweet smile in place and adjusted her messy side braid of strawberry blond hair, her twinkling green eyes gleamed subtly. “Oh, stop whining,” Willow said to Aubrey. “It’s not so bad.”
“Liar,” came the muttered reply from behind Charly. Charly laughed as two backpackers walked by looking ready to call it quits.
Willow raised her arm in encouragement. “You’re almost there,” she shouted.
“That’s another lie,” Aubrey said, scoffing.
After the couple smiled and thanked Willow, she turned back to Aubrey and said, “That’s not lying. That’s cheering people on.”
Aubrey grumbled something incoherent beneath her breath, and Charly just shook her head, chuckling to herself as they continued. Here were her two closest friends since kindergarten—Willow was like sunshine while Aubrey was always its shadow. They’d experienced it all together while growing up with their families in Ann Arbor, Michigan—joyful moments, sad moments and everything in between.
Five minutes later, Aubrey barked out a curse. “That’s it. I’m done.” She dropped her backpack to the ground and sank onto it. “I wanted to explore Rome, soak up some culture and history, but instead we ended up here in Montana, on this stupid mountain.”
Charly took in the view, realizing they were close enough to where she needed to get them. She shrugged off her backpack, not really blaming Aubrey for her less-than-thrilled mood. Aubrey wasn’t a hiker. The trip had been a graduation present to themselves before they started their adult lives and moved away from each other in hopes of catching their big dreams.
Aubrey pulled out her water bottle, taking a big drink before speaking again. “So, we’ve hiked through forests, camped under the stars and seen erupting geysers and hot springs. Explain to me why this place beats Rome.”
Charly smiled as she sat down on her backpack next to Aubrey, then pointed down at the valley below them. More importantly, the small town. “We’re here for that.” Timber Falls was north of Yellowstone National Park, along the Yellowstone River, with a population of a little over seven thousand. Nineteenth-century brick buildings lined the two-lane street, which housed art galleries, bookstores and boutiques that displayed an Old Wild West ambience amid homestyle eateries, with a stunning view of the mountain range at the end of the road.
She glanced to her friends. “Do you remember the pact we made when we were thirteen?”
Willow scanned the town below before scrunching her nose. “What are you talking about?”
“This,” Charly said, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket. She unfolded it, revealing a drawing that was identical to the small town nestled in the valley they were overlooking. “When I was researching different wineries and breweries in search of the best booze on the market, I found this place.” Timber Falls was known as a filming spot for many movies and brought in artists and writers in droves. Now Charly understood why. There was something magical about this place. Something far past beautiful. A pulsating energy
that was as warm and welcoming as it was peaceful. “When I saw it, I almost fell out of my chair.”
Aubrey accepted the paper, her gaze glued to the page. “The similarity is a bit eerie.”
“Right?” Charly agreed. None of them were particularly talented artists, but the picture created the unmistakable impression of a Main Street with an Old West vibe and mountains at the end of it. They used to fantasize about staying together forever in this small town they’d created, just the three of them, and falling in love with rugged cowboys.
“You kept this drawing all this time?” Willow asked as Aubrey returned the paper to Charly.
Charly nodded. “I found it when I was packing.” They all lived together in a small apartment in Berkeley while she and Willow attended the University of California together and Aubrey attended the Culinary Institute of America. But their lease was up, and their lives were about to change forever.
“Incredible,” Aubrey said.
Charly agreed with a nod. “After I found it, I got to thinking. When we leave here, we’re all going our separate ways.” She looked to Willow. “You’re off to Portland for your new fancy marketing job.” Her gaze fell to Aubrey. “You’re heading to Atlanta working beneath Chef Bisset. And I’m moving to Phoenix with Marcel to open the nightclub.” She’d met Marcel in her freshman year in a philanthropy course. He’d swept her right off her feet, and even though it took another two years for them to get serious, she knew he was her one and only. “The world is our oyster now, but I don’t want us to forget what we once dreamed of having together.”
Aubrey tilted her head, and the flush of her cheeks faded away gradually. “What exactly are you proposing?”
Charly flashed them a smile. “I’m suggesting that we come up with a contingency plan—just in case the plans we have don’t work out.”
Willow scrunched her nose in confusion. “I still don’t get it.”
Charly gestured to the paper. “When I found the drawing, and then discovered this town so randomly, I figured it had to be a sign.
So, that’s why I brought us here.” After they’d hiked out of Yellowstone Park, they had lunch in town. Sitting outside on the patio of a hundred-and-twenty-year-old restaurant, she loved everything Timber Falls had to offer with all its rustic heritage. They had spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the two-laned Main Street, before setting out on their final hike up the mountains. “I wanted to see if this town was as magical as I was hoping it’d be—”
“And it was,” Willow interjected softly.
Charly nodded and glanced down at the town nestled at the base of the mountains. There was a hardware store and a movie theater that still had the old metal cinema marquee. The shops were eclectic and quaint, and the town had clearly been renovated to keep true to its old-town American roots. The people striding down Main Street weren’t rushing to get anywhere. They were taking in the sunny, warm day, enjoying life, not letting it fly by.
From the sense of tight-knit community and friendly townsfolk every which way you looked, the place had all the things they had once thought was so different than their city life. And most importantly, real-life cowboys—just the type of man their young hearts once dreamed of. That was, before life got in the way and reality hit them that none of them were ever leaving the big city for small-town living.
Charly looked between her friends. “Let’s make a pact—if by the time we turn twenty-eight, we aren’t satisfied with life in our new cities, then we return to what we always dreamed of. We come back here and mesh our worlds together. We open a place of our own. I handle the bar.” Glancing at Aubrey, she added, “You handle the restaurant.” She met Willow’s gaze. “You do the marketing.”
Willow studied Charly for a few seconds before asking, “Why settle on twenty-eight?”
“That gives us two years to fix whatever has gone wrong in our lives before we turn thirty,” Charly explained.
Aubrey laughed softly, shaking her head. “This is a silly deal. That’s six years away. We’ll be settled by then. Don’t you think talking about this will jinx our future plans?”
Charly shrugged. “Maybe, but I’m just saying if our plans don’t work out, let’s go back to our pact. We took this trip as a last celebration before becoming adults and it all led us here. What do we have to lose?” She waved out to the town below that held so much heart. “If at twenty-eight we feel less content than now, let’s move here and start over.” Charly held out her hand. “Who’s in?”
Willow smiled wide, placing her hand on top of Charly’s. “I’m in!”
Aubrey rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why either of you are so excited about this. You do realize making this pact is like wishing that our dreams fail?”
“No, Miss Uptight,” Charly corrected. “We’re making this pact so that we can protect our own happiness. We need to always look out for each other. And we deserve the happiness that our thirteen-yearold selves dreamed up.”
Aubrey’s eyes narrowed for a moment and then she smiled. “Okay, I’m in.” She placed her hand atop Willow’s. “Here’s to having a plan B.”
Charly grinned at Willow before they all lifted their hands, and Charly shouted, “To having a backup plan!”
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One
Sixyearslater...
J
axon Reed clicked his tongue and the colt beneath him surged forward, its hooves pounding across the meadow of endless Montana beauty that had been in his family for generations. The wind brushed past his face as he narrowed his gaze at the sun beginning to dip in the sky. As he took a deep breath, the aroma of hot dirt and sweet berries wafted through the air. He eagerly filled his lungs, feeling an unmistakable sense of freedom that always accompanied long rides across the land.
Timber Falls Ranch was known for its top-notch quarter horses that were bought and shipped all throughout North America. Over one hundred horses on the ranch were raised in an old-fashioned way, remaining outdoors all year round and living off the land. The mares and their young occupied one field, while the geldings had their own space. Separately, in different fields, were the stallions. Many of those horses went on to be winners in rodeos, endurance trail rides and working hunter competitions.
Before he set out to check on the herd late in the afternoon, he had anticipated a quiet ride, but it soon became apparent that luck was not on his side today.
Out in the west, he found a chestnut mare lying on the grass, accompanied by her fellow herd members. Without hesitation, he clucked his tongue again and the colt beneath him leaped into a gallop across one of the valleys that lay between Yellowstone and Big Sky in Montana.
As Jaxon drew nearer to the mare, worry sank deep into his gut. The mare was lying on her side, breathing heavily and perspiring profusely. He pulled gently on his reins, speaking softly to the colt he
had been training for the past month, who instantly responded to his words and slowed its pace.
In one swift movement, Jaxon swung his leg over the back of the saddle and tied up the reins around its horn. Assured that the colt wouldn’t wander away, Jaxon pulled out a pair of gloves from the saddlebag before giving Casey, one of his farmhands, an urgent call.
When Casey answered, Jaxon said, “I’m sending you my location. Get the vet out here—we’ve got a mare in trouble.”
“On it,” Casey replied.
Jaxon sent his coordinates, tucked his phone away and slid his hands into the gloves before approaching the mare. “Easy, Mama,” he murmured, striding around her. She had already birthed one of her foal’s legs. Cursing, he got onto his knees behind her, steadying the foal with both feet during the next contraction before giving a strong pull.
Three contractions later, along with Jaxon’s help, the baby horse slid out easily.
“Good. Good mama,” he breathed, confirming the sweet bay filly wasn’t in distress. Then he brought the foal closer to the mare’s head and stepped away, giving them space, while the mare licked her baby.
Catching his breath, he returned to the colt, pulled off the gloves and threw them in his saddlebag for later disposal. “Well done,” he told the colt before mounting him again.
Time ticked slowly as Jaxon watched the mare bond with her baby, when he heard the rumble of the ATV’s engine before he spotted Casey driving up. The twenty-year-old had begun working on the ranch after graduating high school. Beside him sat Dr. Newman, the local vet who was well past retirement age.
After Casey cut the engine on the ATV, Dr. Newman jumped out, his deep brown eyes shining with excitement. “Your first foal since you took over the ranch.”
Jaxon nodded in understanding. The thought hadn’t been lost on him either. This was the first birth on the ranch since his father’s untimely death from a heart attack six months ago. He shifted on his feet, the chilly awareness of the loss of his father clawing at his
chest. The constant reminder was always there that he was still rocked to his core that his father was gone, and Jaxon had stepped into his father’s very large boots at the ranch. “I got here just in time,” he remarked, knowing had this happened overnight the mare likely would have died.
The doctor moved closer. “You’ve got the same knack as your father. He always seemed to know when it was time to come out here and check on his ladies.”
Jaxon merely raised an eyebrow in response. His father did have a sixth sense when it came to horses, and he knew he had inherited it too. Becoming a third-generation breeder wasn’t what he’d planned to do so suddenly, but he would never let his family’s ranch break apart and lose its legacy.
He wasn’t even sure if he’d had a chance to grieve his father’s passing, or properly say goodbye to the life he had before he was weighed down with responsibility for the ranch. The moment his father died, Jaxon had dived into the business and never looked back.
The doctor started tending to the mare, and once Jaxon could see she was in good hands, he said to Casey, “I need to go check on the others in the herd. Give me a shout if you need me.”
“Will do,” Casey replied.
Jaxon gave a quick thank-you to Dr. Newman before giving another click of his tongue. The colt cantered away across the meadow full of wildflowers as they passed the wide spread of contented horses grazing on the grass and growing as they should.
As he and the horse ventured over a hill, Jaxon caught sight of the ranch with its breathtaking beauty and felt a warmth fill his chest, regardless that home looked unrecognizable without his father there. He’d grown used to a lack of female presence when his mother died from ovarian cancer when he was eight-years old, but his father’s absence felt...heavy. With a sigh, he gently patted the colt’s neck before settling into an easy walk, letting out some slack in the reins to allow the horse to cool off after their long ride.
Down the hill, a cozy three-bedroom house sat diagonally across from the barn. The pine logs and fieldstone structure had a
rectangular sand ring in front for training, and a few large grassy paddocks for the horses. After his father’s funeral at the ranch that brought in hundreds of horsemen to say their final goodbyes to a man they respected, Jaxon moved from his cabin on the northern part of the land and into the house that his father had built.
As Jaxon arrived at the barn, Gunner Woods walked across one of the fields toward him, wearing tan-colored chaps over his blue jeans. A black cowboy hat was perched atop his stylish blond hair and his bright blue eyes glinted with amusement.
Gunner had lived in Nashville for a short time, pursuing his music career. When he’d come back to town after his album failed to deliver, Jaxon had hired him as a trainer without much thought and Gunner had moved into Jaxon’s cabin. Their shared high school memories forged a bond between them that could not be broken, and Gunner’s soft approach with young horses had always impressed Jaxon.
“Everything okay?” Gunner asked when he reached him.
“The mare and foal are fine. Doc is with them now.” Jaxon dismounted his colt and strode halfway to Gunner. “This guy is ready to be sold.”
“Good news all around,” Gunner said, propping himself up against the fence post.
“Done with him?” Wayne called, coming out of the barn. The gangly eighteen-year-old had gotten his start at the farm like any other kid. He’d stacked hay bales, cleaned the stalls and groomed the horses.
Jaxon let go of the reins. “That’s it for today,” he answered. “We’ve got somewhere else to be now.” If only Wayne was old enough to come along too.
“Where’s that?” Wayne asked, taking the horse’s reins over his head.
Jaxon shot Gunner a grin. “We’ve got a date with some cold beers.”
“Ah,” Gunner said with sudden realization. “The bar reopened today, didn’t it? I completely forgot.”
Jaxon couldn’t forget. Before his father’s death, Jaxon had owned a bar on Main Street. He’d opened the bar in the evenings and pitched in at the ranch during the day for a few hours. But after his father died, Jaxon had known he had to devote himself exclusively to ensuring their family business survived, so he’d sold the bar.
He was proud of what he’d brought to the town—a place where the locals felt like they belonged. It had been seven weeks since the town had a legitimate bar as opposed to just restaurants that served alcohol, and Jaxon could practically taste the crisp craft lager on his tongue.
He was also itching for a fun night out, something he hadn’t had in months besides a campfire and beers at the ranch. Word in town was all the twenty-somethings had been complaining about Jaxon’s bar shutting down, considering the closest bar catering to the younger crowd was an hour away in a larger city. He was not the only one looking for a new hot spot to cut loose. “I have never been so ready for a damn beer,” he commented.
Wayne mumbled something inarticulate about being young and wished them a good time as he led the horse away.
Jaxon chuckled, hearing tire treads crunching against gravel behind him. He looked over his shoulder right as Eli Cole pulled up in a truck with a horse trailer attached to it.
His childhood friend had moved away to Seattle, where he’d owned a carpentry business before settling back home after his sister had passed away. Jaxon and Gunner had never experienced having siblings but found family in each other over the years, and Eli had been there right next to them.
Eli eventually parked the truck and trailer next to Jaxon’s vehicle and got out. His dark hair poked out from beneath his worn cowboy hat while his wise green eyes glimmered from underneath. “Delivery went smoothly,” he remarked in his gravelly voice.
The latest delivery was a five-year-old filly Eli had trained himself. Their three-man team operated flawlessly, as they’d all grown up on this ranch, working their summers and weekends under the guidance of Jaxon’s father.
“Up for a beer?” Jaxon asked Eli.
“Been waiting on this all day,” Eli replied with a smirk. “Let’s get out of here.”
Jaxon was sure that luck was finally on his side today.
Until he arrived at the rustic town square of Timber Falls twenty minutes later, and his mood took a nosedive.
The Old West vibe of the bar’s storefront was gone, replaced by sleek black modern windows. After selling the bar seven weeks ago —choosing to know nothing about the buyers aside from their promise to keep the place a bar, so the town wouldn’t lose its hotspot—he hadn’t come to town. The renovation would have ripped his heart out. The only consolation was knowing that the space he created that gave the hardworking people of Timber Falls a place to unwind and enjoy would continue.
But as he opened the bar’s door, which now opened easily and didn’t need a little force as it used to, he walked straight into hell.
The walls were no longer adorned with license plates. Now they were painted light gray and the wood paneling on the lower half was stained white. The moose head trophy from a hunting trip with his father and grandfather now wore a pink feather boa and sparkly sunglasses, while the tables and bar stools remained unchanged. In place of the mirror on the back wall hung a banner proclaiming She overcame everything that was meant to destroy her. The greasy aroma normally emanating from bar food had been replaced by an unexpected floral scent.
Jaxon removed his cowboy hat as he took a seat at one of the booths. The blaring country music had been replaced by a Taylor Swift song, and freshly cut flowers had taken the place of a bowl of peanuts. Two women stood behind the bar wearing pink shirts with THE NAKED MOOSE scrawled across them.
“This is something,” Eli muttered, sliding into the booth across from Jaxon.
“That’s one way to put it,” Gunner said, adjusting the waistline of his Levi’s before sitting next to Eli.
“Hmm,” Jaxon agreed.
A cute ginger-haired woman came up to greet them. Her name tag read Willow. “Welcome to The Naked Moose’s grand opening.
What can I get you?”
She talked like a city girl, sounding from the Midwest. Obviously, the bar’s new owners weren’t from around here.
“A beer,” Jaxon replied.
Her cheeks flushed bright pink as she handed him a menu featuring only cocktails. He gave the menu back. “A Budweiser please.” A store-bought beer was better than nothing.
Willow shook her head apologetically, letting out a soft “um.”
The other woman standing at the bar hurried to Willow’s side. Her name tag read Aubrey.
Before Jaxon even looked over at Gunner, he knew his friend would be grinning at this woman. He always did have a thing for blondes, and she was just his type.
Aubrey smiled tightly and presented him a plate of small rainbowcolored cookies. “Macaron?”
Jaxon shook his head and gestured at the bar. “Plain old beer, if you don’t mind.” Everyone in town had anticipated the reopening of this place—especially after Jaxon had abruptly shut it down—but this...what the hell was this?
His real estate agent, Billy Palmer, told him the bar would be restored and revived by its new owners. Not...turned into a big-city cocktail lounge, where the hardworking townsfolk would feel not only out of place but unwelcome. He and his friends were coated in layers of dust. Their hands were grimy, their faces caked in the stuff. His gaze drifted to where they’d walked in and left a path of dirt along the spotless floors. Every damn spot in this bar sparkled. He felt like he’d stepped into a place that not only didn’t cater to anyone he knew in Timber Falls, the people he respected and valued, but that did not belong in a small rustic town.
He’d built his bar with only one thought in mind: provide a fun space that got to the heart of what the town and the people needed. A place where there was always dirt on the floors for the cowboys who came, a place where sports were playing on the television screens to appease fans, music and dancing for the people looking to party, and the best craft beer out there. Nothing in this space
resembled the bar he’d dreamed up, and his heart twisted in agony over watching his dream burn.
“Can I help you?”
Jaxon’s gaze jerked toward the sound of a firm yet sultry voice. The woman standing before him had flames in her light brown eyes, a color that reminded him of cognac. Her long brunette curls were twisted around her oval face, and all his focus went straight to her full lips, now pressed together in annoyance.
“That depends,” he replied, glancing at her name tag that read Charly. He uttered her name, liking how it rolled off his tongue.
She gave him a bored stare. “On?”
“Got any beers here?”
Her expression was stern. “Sorry, we don’t carry beer. We’re a cocktail lounge.”
Jaxon held her intense stare, enjoying the challenge in the depths of her eyes. Oddly, he felt drawn into it, even if she had something to do with the fact that the bar he had cherished no longer had any of the elements that made it the town’s hotspot.
He tore his gaze away and noticed a chalkboard that proclaimed Book your divorce party today!
“I’ll have scotch on the rocks,” he said, finally glancing her way again. Eli and Gunner ordered the same.
“Coming right up,” Charly said before walking away, revealing her ripped shorts that Jaxon shouldn’t be ogling.
And yet...andyet...he couldn’t look away.
After she returned and handed them their drinks, she gave a polite smile. “Thanks for coming to the grand opening. Enjoy your drinks.”
Life in Timber Falls was always the same. Every day just like the last. But thatwoman was not like anyone he’d ever met before. “I’ll see you again soon, Charly,” he promised, calling after her.
She glanced back and grinned, all teeth. “Let’s not make it too soon.”
He smiled after her. He’d never been shut down so fast. Oh,hell, whoisthiswoman?
“You weren’t expecting this, were you?” Eli asked when she was out of hearing distance.
Jaxon raised an eyebrow at him. “The state of my bar or the woman who looks like she wants to stab me in the eye?”
Gunner laughed.
“Both,” Eli said, his mouth twitching.
“Both are surprising,” Jaxon admitted. “But one is more unwelcome than the other.” Taking a sip of his scotch, Jaxon found that at least they had chosen top-shelf alcohol.
Gunner knocked back his glass in one go and then asked, “What are you going to do?”
Jaxon just shrugged. “What can I do? They own the bar now.” He never expected that whoever took over his bar would change it so drastically. The bar looked plucked out of New York City. The residents of Timber Falls lived there for its rustic roots, not modern luxuries.
While Jaxon had catered his bar to the needs of everyone in town, the hardworking ranchers held a special place there. He’d grown up around the men and women who worked the land and cattle for generations. His father had close ties to every rancher in the area, and Jaxon had seen they had lacked a place to get together and enjoy some beers and laughs.
His bar meant something to the people of Timber Falls. It meant something to him. And these big-city ladies seemed determined to make sure the favorite weekend spot and after-work hangout was transformed into a place where the only people who would feel welcome there were out-of-towners.
With a thick taste of disappointment in his mouth, he scowled at the glitter and feathers. “What could be their motive?” he questioned. “They’re pretty much alienating all their beer-drinking customers.”
Eli said, “Big cities have cocktail lounges.”
“This isn’t a big city,” Gunner said.
He felt an ache in his chest as he considered what they’d done to his bar. “This won’t stand,” he said eventually. “For years, this bar belonged the people of Timber Falls who want a rugged experience
that included great beer, not...this.” He scraped a hand across the scruff on his face. “I need to fix this.”
Eli had his glass halfway to his mouth. “How do you plan on doing that?” he asked.
Jaxon glanced at Charly talking with another customer he didn’t recognize—a tourist he’d bet—and took a sip of his scotch. He savored the flavor of the oak barrels it was aged in before answering, “We need to show them what this bar means to Timber Falls.”
Gunner snorted. “And you think you’re going to be the one to show her that?”
“Who better is there?” Jaxon challenged confidently.
Eli burst out laughing and shook his head in disbelief as he gestured toward Charly. “Anyone, Jaxon. Absolutely anyone would be better than you. She looked ready to cut you.”
Not deterred, Jaxon threw back the remainder of his drink. His gaze followed Charly’s movements as she headed to the other end of the bar. As if aware he was speaking about her, she turned her head and their eyes met. Hers narrowed.
An amused grin spread across his face. “She isn’t so bad. Even if those claws are sharp.”
“Sharp?” Eli snorted. “I’d say they’re downright deadly.”
Gunner agreed with a nod and asked, “What will happen if you fail to convince her to bring beer back?”
“I won’t fail,” Jaxon declared with conviction. He winked at his friends and leaned across the table to add, “You know I’m always up for a challenge, especially one that’s a pretty brunette.”
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Two
The following morning, Charly was cozied up on a small patio out front of the breakfast hot spot Sparrow Catching. Her nose crinkled at the exhaust from an old Ford truck driving along Main Street. She gazed out at the two-laned road, reminded how different this small town was compared to the bustling city. The towering skyscrapers and honking taxis were replaced with friendly neighbors waving to one another, cowboy hats adorning most heads and barely a single high heel in sight. The nightlife was nonexistent. Nevertheless, it was easy for her to fall in love with the rustic town square, just like she had all those years ago.
The buildings were a blend of stained wood and stone, with towering mountains at the end of the road. Scattered among the stores was an ice cream parlor, a coffeehouse and a sweets shop. Every Saturday, part of the road was blocked off to make way for the bustling farmers market.
In comparison to her former life in Michigan and, more recently, Arizona, Charly was still adjusting to all the differences in small-town life. Over the last seven weeks, since they’d all packed up their lives and moved to Timber Falls, she’d stopped missing the rowdiness of the bar she’d left behind in Phoenix and the hustle and bustle of the city. In Timber Falls, life seemed to move at a different pace. People here appeared to appreciate one another in a way that she had never seen anywhere else.
But she still couldn’t help but feel her entire life was back in Phoenix. Not that long ago, her life had been all planned out. Until Marcel, the man Charly once planned to marry and had owned a successful bar with in Phoenix, broke her heart by cheating on her with their head bartender, Hannah, destroying any future plans for the two of them.
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other rafts were constructed on a similar plan, and fitted carefully, and fastened with ropes to those tied to the shore. These were placed further out in the stream, being held in position by ropes attached to wherries anchored up the stream. The joins between the two sets of rafts were not visible to the elephants, who, thinking they were still on land, allowed themselves to be driven on to the outer rafts, where they were tethered until the time for the crossing should come. And thus the day passed, and by the following dawn all was ready.
The first division of the army embarked in the wherries and canoes, the heavy-armed cavalry men being in the former, two men in the stern of each boat holding five horses apiece by the bridles, these horses swimming. The wherries were placed up the stream, so as to break the current for the canoes below. The infantry soldiers embarked in their canoes. Thus, all was in readiness, while Hannibal and his officers remained watching for the signal. Suddenly first a thin and then a dense column of smoke was seen rising through the trees in rear of the camp of the Gauls.
“Advance!” cried Hannibal, himself springing into a boat.
“Advance!” cried Mago, Chœras, Maharbal, and all the other officers.
Then, with a deafening cheer from the army in the boats, and deafening cheers also of encouragement from their comrades left upon the bank, the flotilla was set in motion. The Gauls, meanwhile, had assembled in their thousands upon the opposite shore, and, waving their spears, and shouting their hoarse war-cries, were gallantly awaiting their advancing foe.
Suddenly cries of alarm were heard from the Gallic ranks, as flames of fire were seen arising from the tents of their encampment, which they had left without a guard. Disconcerted, they turned their backs to the enemy on the river, to find themselves confronted by another and unexpected foe in the rear. General Hanno and all his men were upon them.
Rapidly the boats, amid renewed cheering, pushed to the shore; rapidly, too, were the first division landed and drawn up on the beach. Then ensued such a scene of carnage in the Gallic ranks as had never yet been heard of. In less than an hour Hannibal’s boast
was fulfilled, and scarcely a man was left to tell the tale. Thus was accomplished the passage of the Rhone.
CHAPTER V.
AT THE FOOT OF THE ALPS.
W the carnage was completed and the last blow struck, Hannibal sent for his general of engineers. Monomachus shortly appeared before him, sword in hand, panting for breath, and covered with blood from head to foot. A large and long gash upon his swarthy cheek by no means lessened the ferocity of his appearance, at which Chœras, who was standing by, tittered audibly.
“Wherefore hast thou this most sanguinary aspect, oh my chief of pioneers?” quoth the general, in a tone of assumed severity, for he was really in high good humour. “Thou hast surely not quitted thy post on the opposite bank, where thy duties were to complete and guard the means of transport across the river, and joined in the fight wherewith thy duties had neither part nor parcel?”
Before replying, Monomachus calmly piled three corpses of the Gauls together, two below and then one on the top, upon which gruesome group he seated himself as comfortably as possible. Then wiping the blood streaming from his face, he replied:
“Nay, thanks be to the gods! I had no cause to leave my post on the elephant rafts to be able to slay a few of the cursed barbarians. But a party of about a dozen of them had in flight seized a boat, and, by the mercy of Moloch, just as I was fretting at mine inaction, they chanced to come my way. So I just killed the lot. One fellow, however, proved a bit nasty, and gave me this little remembrance.” Again he wiped his face. “He was the last of them all,” he continued, “so I had, fortunately, time to make an example of him, although he fought hard, and scarcely seemed to appreciate my kind attentions.”
“What didst thou do?” questioned Hannibal.
The butcher grinned ferociously, but made no reply at first.
“How didst thou make an example of him?” again questioned his commander.
“I took him by the waist,” answered Monomachus, “and, for all his struggles and cries, thrust his head into the mouth of that savage bull
elephant, that king of beasts whom the men call Moloch. It was the champing up of his skull that has caused my armour and clothing to thus become somewhat discoloured.” And he looked down with a grim glance of satisfaction at his bloody attire.
“Methinks ’tis thou who should be named the king of beasts more rightly than the elephant after such an exploit as that; but, for all that, I thank thee, Monomachus, for thy skilful arrangements for the crossing of the river, and likewise for thy gallant defence of the raft, for Sosilus here, who was by me, taking notes as usual, pointed thee out to me while engaged in first killing the runaway Gauls, and then feeding the elephant on such unaccustomed food; and, by my troth, I think I saw thee slay nearer twenty than twelve of the barbarians. What was the exact number of them, by the by, Sosilus?”
“Ay,” responded the sage, “the carnage being almost completed on this bank, I, with a view to some amplifications of a work I am commencing, called, ‘Duties and Developments of Modern Warfare,’ turned my attention to thee, oh Monomachus! after having first noted that foolish young man, Chœras, finishing off, in most artistic style, a naked Gaul of twice his size, with whom he had been indulging in a somewhat prolonged combat. I requested him then to assist me in checking the numbers of the Gauls, whom thou mightest thyself despatch single-handed, which amounted in grand total to just—so Chœras reckoned—eighteen and a half.”
“Eighteen and a half?” grumped out the man of blood. “How could I kill eighteen men and a half? It must have been either eighteen or nineteen. I could not kill half a man.”
“Easily enough,” here interrupted Chœras, who was answerable for the numbers. “First thou didst slay eighteen barbarians, then thou didst half-kill a nineteenth. The remainder of him thou gavest, oh most bloody Monomachus, unto the elephant. Hence thou hast for thine own grand total of slain got evidently only eighteen and a half. And thus thou thyself hast killed half a man. It is simple enough when thou understandeth arithmetic.”
The jest was a good enough one for the occasion. Monomachus, who was not pleased at it, however, growled out a curse at Chœras and his flippant tongue, while Hannibal laughed outright.
“Well, repose thyself awhile on thy ghastly but apparently comfortable couch, oh thou slayer of half men, or half slayer of whole men, to quote Chœras, and then bring across the elephants. This evening will do, for the army will rest here until mid-day, and the cavalry and elephants, with which both I and thou will remain, will form the rear guard. After mid-day, the remainder of the army will march northward up the river, but we will ourselves first destroy the boats and rafts, and then follow. Should Scipio wish to cross in turn, he will be somewhat puzzled, I fancy. We will take our lightlywounded with us on the elephants and spare horses; the rest, I regret to say, we shall have to destroy to avoid the risk they will otherwise run of torture or crucifixion if left behind. But now, methinks, we all want some food and wine, of which, fortunately, plenty hath been captured here.”
While Hannibal and Monomachus were talking, Mago and Maharbal rode up. The latter looked none the worse for his fall on the previous day, and both were flushed with the delights of victory. Mago threw himself from his horse and embraced his brother, after first throwing at his feet a mass of golden collars and necklaces he had brought in as spoils. Maharbal modestly remained by his horse after saluting the Chief. He also unloaded many spoils of golden ornaments, and laid them on the ground. He was unwounded and triumphant, his sword red with gore from point to hilt; but he was too exhausted to utter a word. He had that day, indeed, dealt death to many a Gaul, and richly revenged his reverse at the hands of Scipio’s cavalry. Hannibal knew how to reward valour, and knew also full well the meaning of the old Roman proverb that he gives twice who gives quickly. Taking his own necklace, he threw it round Maharbal’s neck. Taking his own sword, he presented it to his general, Hanno, son of Bomilcar. To his brother Mago he gave nothing, save a return of the salute that his brother had given to him and a compliment.
“Mago, I knew already that thou wert my brother; this day thou hast proved also that thou art the son of Hamilcar.” And he fell upon his brother’s neck.
The troops, crowding round, shouted till they were hoarse in acclamation of this pithy sentence, and then the whole camp
became for an hour or two a camp of rest.
A few days later, the whole Carthaginian army, having marched to the northward, found itself in the country of the Allobroges. These people were not particularly the allies of Rome, yet were subsidised by them, and therefore hostile to Hannibal. They were a race inhabiting the slopes of the Alps, and very warlike. Their numbers were great, and the mixed troops of the Carthaginian army were excessively alarmed at the opposition that they were likely to receive from this very hostile people. But a strange and lucky chance intervened. At the foot of the passes of the Alps, the advancing Carthaginian army suddenly came upon two armies, drawn up in warlike array, about to attack each other. These armies were those of a certain king of the Gauls and his brother, who were at war for the succession. Each sent to him, before the battle commenced, envoys asking his help. Hannibal instantly threw in his lot with the elder brother, and together they fell upon the other, and, after a short but bloody fight, routed him completely. After this the Carthaginian troops were so welcomed with wine and food, and every other species of enjoyment, that for a day or two all discipline was relaxed in the camp, and all hardships forgotten. And then the Gallic king, having furnished the invaders with all kind of provisions, with new weapons, with pack horses and mules, ay, even boots for all the army, set forth with them, giving guides for an advance guard across the first Alpine ranges, and himself, with all his own forces, forming a rear guard for the army for protection against the Allobroges. But at the foot of the Alps, with many regrets, he left Hannibal, for this king of the Gauls was not strong enough to leave his own kingdom further.
Abandoned by their ally, the Carthaginian forces were appalled as they reached the foot of the first range, for from the plain below every vantage point could be seen gleaming with the spears of the Allobroges, who were determined to resist to the death the further advance of the Phœnician forces.
The enemy crowded every mountain-top; they thronged in the pass itself; it looked, indeed, as if the way were barred as by bars of iron. At least, so it seemed to all the army, except to the brave and astute Commander himself. For a few days he encamped at the foot of the pass, remaining inactive, and resting his men. During this
period, the worthy Sosilus frequently pointed out that, according to parallel cases, the only thing to be done was to go round and advance by some other way. Chœras, likewise, when appealed to in council round the camp fire, merely broke forth into verse. He did not like mountain warfare; the plains suited him far better as a cavalry soldier; further, he was one of those who wanted first to go back to the coast, fight and defeat the Romans there, and proceed the rest of the way to Italy by sea.
Therefore, when Hannibal, although well knowing his own mind as usual, merely to keep his officers in good humour, asked the opinion of each, including Chœras, the latter answered while tossing off a cup of wine:—
“Most brave Commander, since thou wilt The way seek out, ’tis plain, For mountains suit not cavalry, And elephants are vain. Thus to the low ground keep thy force, And march south to the coast, There scourge the Roman with the horse That is thine army’s boast. Then from Iberia fetch the fleet, ’Twill danger save and toil, While we, refresh’d, shall Romans meet Upon Italian soil.”
Hannibal merely smiled, and then turned to Monomachus.
“And what wouldst thou do, my blood-thirsty general of engineers? Canst thou not build us a bridge overhead of these barbarians, or else dig us a tunnel below them. For to the other side of the Alps we go or die.”
Monomachus rose, and lifting his sword, shook it savagely in the direction of the foe on the heights ere he replied.
“Build thee a bridge, Hannibal? Ay, that can I, if thou but let me head the van. I will build thee a solid bridge over the living with the bodies of the dead. Dig thee a tunnel? Ay, that will I also with this good sword, right through their livers and intestines. ’Tis a kind of
engineering that suits me right well, and I long to be at it now My right arm is grown quite stiff for want of practice; ’tis nigh fifteen days since I have slain a Gaul, for I was engaged in road-mending during thy fight the other day. But now, methinks, the time hath come for my subordinate Hasdrubal to do a little more of the road-making work, and for me to get back to mine old trade of fighting. I must appeal to my good friend Sosilus to find me some parallel cases. Say, oh learned one, hast thou not at thy command some quotation ready from the ninety-ninth chapter of the hundred and eleventh book of someone or another wherewith to convince our gallant Commander that I am far more adapted to wield a sword than a pick-axe?”
“Ay, indeed,” answered Sosilus readily; “there is just such a case on record, and I have it here in a pamphlet which I have among many others in the pockets of my tunic.”
He commenced fumbling in his bosom, but before he had time to demonstrate with chapter and verse the similarity of the cases, several Gauls arrived on the scene, to whom Hannibal instantly gave private audience in his tent.
They were spies from among the guides supplied by the friendly Gallic king, and they had important news to communicate. When presently Hannibal re-issued from his tent he once more addressed Monomachus.
“Thy wish shall be granted; thou shalt come with me, and that this very night, and thy weapon in sooth shall be a sword, not a pick-axe. For I find that yonder hostile barbarians stay not on the heights by night, but retire to a town within the hills, of which the name is called, I think, Brundisium, daily re-occupying their posts at dawn. I myself shall therefore creep up the passes this night with a chosen band and occupy the points of vantage whereon we see their armour now shining. At daybreak the rest of the army, under command of General Hanno, will commence the ascent, all the cavalry and the pack animals being placed in the van; then the infantry. Lastly, the elephants will follow with a rear-guard under thy lieutenant Hasdrubal, the pioneer, who will destroy the road after them for a double purpose—to prevent the Gauls from pursuing us, and to prevent our own men from retreating. For, once embarked upon
these Alpine passes, there is to be no going backward. We conquer or we die; we do not return.”
Then spoke up Mago. “Brother, thou art the Commander-in-chief. It is not meet that thou shouldst go upon this hazardous expedition by night upon these unknown mountain passes. What will the army do if thou shouldst fall either by the hand of the enemy, or over some precipice? General Hanno is, indeed, most worthy of all trust, but it is not to him that the whole force looks for confidence. Therefore, I pray thee, send me forward in thy stead this night, and stay thou here. My life is of little worth—thine all important.”
“Not so, Mago,” answered Hannibal; “if confidence be needed it will be gained by seeing that the first man to mount the Alpine passes is the Commander-in-chief himself. But give thou unto me thine own sword, ’tis one of our father Hamilcar’s, and will bring me luck this night, for it was blessed in the temple of Moloch in Carthage; mine own I gave unto Hanno. I will wield it in thine honour and mine own, and return it unto thee to-morrow if I yet live. Meanwhile, take thou another from those I have in my tent; I have several there of great value and good metal.”
With great ceremony, and invoking the blessing of the gods, Mago arose and invested Hannibal with his sword, a magnificent weapon of truest steel which had, indeed, been borne by Hamilcar in many a fight.
That night all the watch-fires were lighted as usual in front of the Carthaginian lines. Nothing in the camp indicated that an advance was intended, and the Gauls on the heights, deceived completely by the apparent inaction on the part of the foe, retired as usual from the mountain crests crowning the passes, to the shelter of the walled town in the valley on the farther side of this first range of the Alps.
A little before midnight, when the camp fires had burned low, Hannibal himself started from the camp and commenced the dangerous ascent of the mountain. No lights had he and his men to guide their footsteps, but painfully and in silence, they stumbled on, ever upwards, over rock and boulder, until they found and occupied the breastworks which the Gauls had evacuated at nightfall. With Hannibal were Monomachus and Chœras in command of a party of dismounted cavalry. There were, in addition, about one thousand
men, who toiled wearily upwards after their bold Commander It being now near the end of the month of October, cold indeed were the hours of waiting through the night, which this gallant band were compelled to endure in the chilly pass. No moving about was possible after once they had gained their positions, and many a man who had become overheated in the ascent that night contracted a chill that ere long laid him low. It was, indeed, a toilsome and terrible night march which these soldiers of a warmer climate had to endure, and many a man stumbled in the dark and fell over the precipices into the roaring torrent below, his armour resounding with many a clang as it beat against the rocks in the wretched man’s downward course.
But for those who fell there was no succour. If they were dead, they were dead, and their troubles were over; if they still survived, they were left to die miserably in the dark and gloomy ravines wherein they had fallen. For who could help them? This was merely the commencement of the crossing of the Alps, and they merely the advance party! How many thousand more would fall ere the fair plains of Italy should be won?
At daybreak, the army, under Hanno, commenced in turn the ascent of the pass. The Gauls instantly set forth to intercept them, and crowning the heights, hurled down huge stones and pieces of rock from every side, creating the most terrible distress and confusion among the defenceless infantry men in the pass, and speedily likewise driving the pack horses, mules, and cavalry animals into a state of perfect frenzy. These creatures, many of them being wounded, rushed madly up and down the narrow road, driving hundreds of men over the precipices in their headlong flight, and many of them falling themselves also.
Meanwhile the Allobroges, climbing down the mountain side like goats, pillaged the fallen warriors, after first brutally cutting their throats, pillaged also the fallen pack animals, and in many cases escaped safely again up the further mountain’s side with their booty Hannibal, however, seeing the terrible confusion into which the whole of his army was thrown by this dreadful onslaught, resolved upon instant action.
“Chœras,” quoth he, “take thou three hundred men. Crown these heights on the left of the pass, creep over them, but keep thy force together. Then charge and destroy all the pillagers who have crossed the ravine. I myself, with Monomachus, will charge with our remaining men on the other side of the ravine where the enemy are thickest.”
Like an avalanche rushing down the Alps, did Hannibal, sword in hand, charge at the head of his men down slopes upon which they could scarcely keep their feet, so steep they were, but the steepness added to the impetus of their terrible onrush. The Allobroges turned and fled towards the city of the hills. They were, however, cut down and slaughtered almost to a man; and Hannibal and his men, still cutting down and slaughtering as they advanced, rushed in after the fugitives through the gates of the city. The inhabitants were instantly put to the sword as a warning to other tribes living on the slopes of the mountains, and an enormous booty of cattle, corn, and pack horses was captured.
The city was in a fertile valley, and the army encamped in and round about it for one day to rest.
Thus did Hannibal, by his own personal prowess, although with serious loss to his army, successfully storm the first of the terrible Alpine ranges.
CHAPTER VI. OVER
THE ALPS.
F the next three days the advance up the passes was continued in peace. The Gauls came in, offering garlands and branches of trees in token of goodwill, and gave also hostages and cattle. Hannibal wisely pretended to trust them, thus securing a period of cessation from hostilities; but, in reality, he remained ever on the alert, and made all his dispositions accordingly, keeping his cavalry and pack animals in front to prevent their being cut off, and following in rear himself with all the heavy-armed infantry.
He was not in the least surprised when on the fourth day a determined attack was made upon him by large forces of the enemy, as the army was passing through a long, narrow, and precipitous gorge, where the Gauls once more created terrible confusion among his troops, by rolling down stones and boulders from above, and, by their superior position on the slopes above him, actually for a time cutting him off with the infantry from all the cavalry and baggage animals ahead, among whom terrible losses occurred. The maddened animals dashed hither and thither, and fell over the precipices, many an unfortunate warrior going with them in their headlong flight. But Mago and Maharbal, with indomitable courage, pushed ever onward and upwards despite all obstacles, while for a whole night long Hannibal and the infantry had to take shelter beneath a rock, which was so precipitous that the Gallic tribes themselves were unable to climb it or use it as a point of vantage from which to throw down missiles.
Meanwhile Hasdrubal, the pioneer, following in the extreme rear with the elephants, destroyed the road as he went, thus making it impossible for any of the army to fly by the road whence they had come. This rear guard was fortunately not attacked, for the Gauls were so terrified by the awful appearance of the elephants, whom they imagined to be evil spirits or malignant gods, that they dared not even to approach the part of the line where they were. When
daybreak came, the army emerged from the pass, and the enemy, too terrified to attack in force on more open ground, retired.
At length, after nine more terrible nights and days, during the whole of which the army was being continually harassed by parties of the foe cutting off stragglers or attacking the baggage, the gallant Chief arrived with his army at the head of the pass. Here, despite the bitter cold, he encamped on the snow for a couple of days, to rest his men and wait for stragglers to come up.
The men were now in a deplorable condition, and their spirits at the lowest possible ebb. Therefore, assembling as many of them as possible around him, and pointing to the panorama of the fair plains of Italy below, Hannibal addressed them as follows:
“My gallant troops, difficulty, danger, and death now lie behind us, but before us lie Italy and Rome. Gaze, therefore, before and below ye as conquerors, for all that fair country shall be ours. The tribes below are our friends, and will welcome us heartily. Therefore keep ye up your courage, for soon the spoils of Rome shall reward ye for all your hardships.”
The courage of the troops was roused by these words; but alas! if the ascent had been difficult, harder by far was the descent of the mountain slopes. For owing to new snow having fallen upon the old, there was no foothold. Thus men and horses in numbers slipped and fell headlong down the slopes and precipices, rolling over and over, and bounding from rock to rock, to finally land, battered into pulp, thousands of feet below. And then they came to a place where, for a great distance, two land slides and avalanches had carried away the whole mountain-side, and the road with it. Never daunted, however, Hannibal, Monomachus, and Hasdrubal, his pioneer captain, built in two days, with the Numidian troops, an entirely new road over the mountain-side, over which first the infantry, then the cavalry and baggage animals, and lastly, even the elephants themselves were passed in safety. But all the survivors, both men and animals alike, were nearly dead from starvation, when at length, after fifteen days in the terrible mountains, the snow was left behind, and the land of the Taurini, bordering that of the friendly Insubrian Gauls, was entered on the plains.
But, whereas Hannibal had started to cross the Alps with nearly double that number, when the muster was taken round the camp fires on the first night after the awful journey over the mountains, only twelve thousand Libyans, eight thousand Iberians, and six thousand cavalry of all kinds, were present to answer the roll-call.
And with this small force of starving and disheartened troops Hannibal now prepared to meet all the might of Rome.
So wretched, indeed, were the troops, that not even the fact of their having at length reached the Italian side of the mountains in Cis-Alpine Gaul could at first put any heart into them. It was now the commencement of the month of November, the oak trees were shedding their leaves, and the grass and herbage losing rapidly the succulent qualities necessary to sustain the animals. All traces of cultivation had long since been removed from the fields, while the wind sighed and moaned sadly through those vast forests of pine, the home of the wolf and the wild boar, the shelter of whose gloomy recesses the half-starved army was glad enough to seek.
Biting showers of rain and sleet added to the discomfort of the troops, and at first the Insubrian Gauls showed but little alacrity in bringing in the much-needed provisions. Altogether, now that this remnant of the Carthaginian army had at length reached, after five and a half months’ marching, this land of promise, it fell far below their expectations. The whole outlook was indeed so gloomy that there was not an officer nor man in the whole army who did not heartily wish himself back again in his own home in the sunny lands and olive groves of Spain or Libya.
To make things even yet worse, one or two Gallic towns in the neighbourhood, among them notably the city of the Taurini, which might have accorded shelter to the half-famished troops, being fearful of Roman retribution, flatly refused to open their gates to the wayworn wanderers. This was scarcely to be wondered at, seeing that the Consul Flaminius had but a short time before defeated the Boii, the Insubres, and other Gallic tribes repeatedly, and treated the survivors with the greatest severity, taking many hostages, who were now entirely at the mercy of the Romans; and founding two Roman colonies, named respectively Placentia and Cremona, one on either bank of the river Padus or Po, right in the midst of Cis-Alpine Gaul.
As Hannibal, accompanied by Silenus and by all his principal officers, marched round and made a thorough inspection of the camp a day or two after arriving in the Italian plains, it must be owned that even he himself felt utterly discouraged. For wherever he looked, whether at man or beast, he saw nothing but misery and starvation. The thirty-seven elephants with which he had started were already considerably diminished in number, many having fallen down the Alpine precipices, and the remainder were now but gaunt mountains of skin and bone. The horses tethered in rows showed distinctly every rib in their carcases, and hung down their heads with fatigue while patient misery was expressed in their lack-lustre eyes. Among the men, not the slightest element of discipline had been relaxed; but, as they stood in their ranks before their tents for the inspection of their Commander-in-chief, looking like phantoms of their former selves, utter dejection could clearly be read in every countenance. Except for the want of a little food they were in hard enough condition, but there was not sufficient food to be obtained by fair means, and the men did not look either strong enough or in good enough spirits to obtain it by force of arms. That, however, was what Hannibal intended that they should do, and he took, therefore, very good care neither to show by his face the disappointment which he felt at their miserable plight, nor the fact that he had received alarming news, which, had it been known publicly, would have made the men more disheartened still.
Instead of doing anything likely to keep the troops in a despondent state, he spoke, as he went along the ranks, words of commendation and encouragement to all. He praised their valour, told them that their names would live in history, informed them that he had received ambassadors with promises of assistance from the Boii, and generally tried to cheer their waning hopes. After this, he held before the army some gladiatorial contests among the young Gallic captives, whose condition was so miserable from the ill-treatment and blows they had received in crossing the Alps, that the army would have pitied the survivors even more than the slain had not their Commander rewarded the conquerors liberally with horses, cloaks, and suits of armour.
After these contests he addressed the army He pointed out to them that their own condition was similar to that of the captive Gauls whom they had just seen fighting, and that, if they maintained a stout heart, either victory and great rewards would be theirs, or a death nobly won on the field of battle; but that if flight were attempted it must be useless. For how, Hannibal urged, would any attempt at flight be successful back over those terrible mountains and all through the country of Gallia to Spain? Therefore, since any attempt at flight would be useless, a stout heart, a stout arm, and a determination to conquer were all that were needful, and victory and numerous spoils would most assuredly be theirs.
Having cheered all the men with these words, and being ably seconded by the superior officers, who were themselves once more fired with his enthusiasm, the Commander, on the following few days, attacked with fury Turin and the other Gallic towns that had withstood him, and speedily carried them by assault. And after this provisions were plentiful, everything was more cheerful in camp, and thousands of Gauls, both Insubrians and Boii, commenced to come in daily, and attach themselves to the Carthaginian standard.
Before, therefore, Hannibal thought it necessary to inform his officers and the army of the news that he had received, he found himself in an entirely different position in which to meet the Romans from that in which he had been a week previously.
And he was indeed about to meet the Romans, and that very shortly, for his news was that Scipio had rapidly returned by sea from Marseilles to Italy, and was already nigh at hand.
“Hast thou heard the news, Maharbal?” quoth Chœras, early one morning, bursting into the tent that they occupied in common, and flinging down his sword and shield, “hast thou heard the news? It seemeth that Publius Scipio hath returned from Massilia, and landed with a small force at some place in Etruria. Moreover, he hath, while travelling northward, crossed the mountain range called the Apennines, traversed the country of the Boii, and is at this moment at the new Roman city or colony called Placentia, on the other side of the Padus. Scipio is not, in fact, very many stadia from the place where we now are ourselves, since this river Ticinus whereon we are
encamped floweth into the Padus, as thou knowest, not very far above Placentia.”
Maharbal was resting where he had been sleeping on a couch of wolf skins on the floor of the tent. As he rose to a sitting posture, he looked a very different man to what he had been at the time of the cavalry fight on the banks of the Rhone—so gaunt was he and drawn, that the muscles of his neck and biceps stood out now like wires of steel, for there was no flesh to conceal them. He had been dreaming a dream of love, with Elissa as its heroine, and was angry at being disturbed. He laughed aloud scornfully
“Wilt thou never have done with thy foolish jesting, Chœras? But this is indeed a sorry jest of thine. Publius Cornelius Scipio already at Placentia! Why, ’tis not yet a month since I bore off his young cub of a son almost into our lines at the camp upon the Rhodanus. Nay, nay, my merry-hearted lieutenant, I may know more of horses than geography, more of dealing death than determining distances, but this is just a little too much. If this were all the cause thou hadst to disturb me, I would that thou had left me to sleep, for I am in sooth sorely fatigued after pursuing and cutting down the last force of those dogs of Taurini the whole of yesterday.”
The young Colossus sank back upon his couch, and would have slept again if his comrade had but allowed him.
“A sorry jest! I would it were but a sorry jest,” returned Chœras; “but, by the head of Hannibal, it is unfortunately no jest, but true. I had it from Hannibal himself. It seems that the Chief, and Silenus also, hath known the matter for these several days past, but it was purposely kept secret until after we had conquered the Taurini, which conquest hath now raised the hearts of our men, and induced also many of the Gauls to rally around us. It appeareth that Scipio at first followed us, but finding we had crossed the Rhone, after returning to Massilia himself, he sent his brother, Cnœus Scipio, with most of the Roman army on into Spain to fight with Hasdrubal; then he came to Pisa by ship, with very few men, but at Placentia there are, unfortunately for us, a Roman legion or two which were assembled to hold the Gauls in check during the late Gallic rising; there are also a large number of Gallic cavalry in the Roman pay. In addition to all this about Scipio, the General hath imparted to us other weighty
news. It appears that the other Roman consul, Tiberius Sempronius, hath been recalled from Sicily, where he was about to make a descent upon Carthage itself, after having defeated a Punic fleet off Lilybæum, and alas! captured Malta. He is now, so Hannibal informs us, at a place on the Adriatic coast called Ariminum, and is encamped there with a very large force. Hannibal is anxious, if possible, to prevent a junction of the two forces.”
“Then this is no place for me!” cried Maharbal, springing to his feet, and hastily buckling on his armour; “there can be no rest for the weary with such tidings as these.” And he picked up his sword and buckler and strode off to the General’s tent, after first directing Chœras to go round to the cavalry lines, and to see that all the horses were instantly properly groomed and fed, and that all the men remained in camp. For he expected more work shortly, though he did not know how soon it might be.
Hannibal was sitting at the door of his tent studying a map which the worthy Sosilus was explaining. He rose as Maharbal approached, and welcomed him warmly. He knew that Maharbal with a portion of his force had only returned very late in the night from the prolonged and bloody pursuit of the Taurini. Chœras, who had been left in camp, had borne him a verbal report sent by Maharbal to that effect and delivered upon Hannibal’s awakening. But he had not seen his well-beloved Numidian leader since his return, and therefore questioned him anxiously.
“And so, Maharbal, my lad, thou hast, it seems, entirely disposed of the last of the Taurini. Hast made many prisoners?”
“Nay, my lord, I made no prisoners. I deemed it wiser, since they were our enemies and evidently the friends of Rome, to kill all whom we should overtake! ’Twill also make the other and friendly Gauls all the more friendly, than had we spared those of a disaffected tribe. But some of them fought hard and ’twould, methinks, have been no easy job to make prisoners of them.”
“Fought, did they? the dogs! And hadst thou any losses, Maharbal?”
“Ay, alas! I had, and far too many for a mere pursuit; they amount, unfortunately, to no less than thirty killed and wounded men, my lord Hannibal, of whom fifteen are dead. Among them was a most gallant
young fellow, the ensign Proxenus. He was a Greek by birth, but came over from Libya with the last reinforcement. He will be indeed a serious loss, for he had both brains and bravery in equal proportions.”
“Proxenus! is Proxenus, that likely youth, dead? Alas, I grieve to hear it, and especially that ’twere his lot to fall against such an unworthy foe as the Taurini. ’Tis sad, indeed. But so it wert not thou thyself, Maharbal, my grief is fleeting, for daily do we lose useful men, and young men, too; but they can be replaced. Had it been thou now, ah, that would indeed have been another matter Therefore see to it, Maharbal,” the Chief continued, with a smile, “that thou let not thyself be killed for many a long day to come. For Carthage could ill dispense with thy services either at present or in the future.”
Maharbal flushed and bowed at the compliment, and then Hannibal called to a slave to bring a stool, and bade him be seated. After this two Gallic chieftains, who had brought in intelligence, were called, and together Hannibal and Maharbal, aided by the learned Sosilus, worked out on the map from their information the respective positions of the various forces now in the field. When this had been accomplished, Hannibal rose, folded up the map, and dismissed Sosilus. Then turning to Maharbal he inquired the state of his men and horses, and if they would be in a fit condition to march again that same afternoon or evening if required absolutely to do so.
“March, ay, they could march, my lord, a short march, and could even fight a little at a pinch; but to fight, and fight well, against fresh troops, especially after themselves making first a long march, they would be quite unfit. It would be but throwing away uselessly the lives of both men and horses.”
“And we can spare neither. Well, we must let it be until to-morrow, when both men and horses have been rested. There are some other advantages about the delay. We shall not have so far to march as will the enemy before we meet them, and therefore our horses will be the fresher. The Gauls said that Scipio is building and hath almost completed a bridge across the Ticinus, by which to cross and attack us. If we with our horse can only catch his cavalry apart from his infantry and drive the attack home well in front and flanks, we will
force him right back to the crossing place, and perhaps inflict considerable slaughter ere he can again pass the bridge. Meanwhile, listen to my plan for the strong cavalry reconnaissance which I intend to make to-morrow, in hopes of meeting Scipio while similarly employed. I shall personally, attended by General Monomachus, whom for the future I shall definitely appoint to the cavalry, lead the Iberian horse, which will be in the centre. Thou wilt divide thy Numidian horse into two parties, one to remain on each flank. After that thou thyself knowest what to do, as usual being guided by circumstances, which I must leave to thine own judgment to be met as required. And now, Maharbal, ’twere wise that thou shouldst retire and take the rest that thou must greatly require.”
“Nay, Hannibal, I require no rest. I am quite sufficiently restored from all fatigue by the hopes of so soon meeting the Romans once more, for my heart burns with shame within my breast when I think of how I was compelled to fly before them when last we met.”
“Tush, man! thou didst not fly; thy troops yielded to superior numbers, that was all, and I sent thee out not to fight that day, but to see what the enemy were about. Moreover, thou thyself didst nearly end the war, and at the very first encounter, by carrying off young Scipio. But ’twas not to be—and now, for a space, I would speak of other matters. Come within the tent; ’tis chilly without. We will take a cup of wine.”
Maharbal entered with his Chief, who carefully closed the entrance of his tent, after having first summoned a slave to bring him a flagon and some wine-cups, which were filled.
