The Seven Hills by John Maddox Roberts

Author:John Maddox Roberts [Roberts, John Maddox]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Historical
ISBN: 9780441013807
Google: YaUIngEACAAJ
Amazon: B007PRUV5U
Barnesnoble: B007PRUV5U
Goodreads: 1770058
Publisher: Ace Books
Published: 2005-03-01T08:00:00+00:00

Mastanabal was a tall, lean man with the clas-sic Carthaginian looks: swarthy complexion, dark brows beetling above a beaklike nose, curly black hair and beard. His deep-lined, weathered face showed every day of his twenty years of hard campaigning. Even when Carthage was not at war, there had always been bandits and pirates to suppress and insurrections to put down.

Ten days before he had arrived by ship and taken over command of the army gathered for the incursion into northern Italy. "The Divine Shofet Hamilcar, descendant of Hannibal the Great, has ordered that the invasion of Italy is to commence forthwith," he had announced. "I want every man I am to command assembled for my inspection immediately. We shall perform the sacrifices and take the omens and we shall march upon the first day pleasing to the gods of Carthage."

He did not tell them that this would not be a part of the main attack on Rome, which would not come for a few months, at least. There was no need for them to know such things. Their task was to obey the shofet's commands. Nor was he dismayed by the task before him. He had seen the Romans in action in Egypt, and he had been impressed. But for all their skill and professionalism, they were but men, and men could be beaten and killed.

He knew further that the four legions of the Egyptian campaign were lost somewhere in the East, and the Romans were massively committed to the conquest of Sicily and must even now be massing that army for an attack on Africa, on Carthage itself. He had an excellent chance of meeting an inferior force of green troops in northern Italy, and smashing them. The Romans were raising legions so fast that surely they could not all be trained and equipped to the highest standards.

Now he rode along the massed ranks of his army, and as he passed each unit, the men raised their arms and cheered. The hand of Carthage lay lightly upon Spain, for it was an invaluable resource far beyond its value as a source of horses, cattle and metal ore. For centuries, Spain had provided Carthage with mercenaries. Its many tribes produced a profusion of warriors, their skills honed by constant intertribal warfare. Many of them had no trade save that of war. Most were a mixture of Celt and native Iberian, now merged.

They were a dark people for the most part, their black hair dressed in long plaits hanging from the temples, the hair at back flowing free or gathered into a net.

Most wore white tunics with colorful borders, but the Callaici, Astures, Cantabri and Vascones wore black. From the northeast and the central plateau came the Arevaci, the Pelendones, the Berones, the Caretani and others. From the west came Lusitani and Turdetani. From the foot of the Pyrenees came the Ilergetes and Auretani. Some were horsemen, wonderfully skilled with lance and javelin.

Most were light infantry. Many carried a small, round buckler called a caetra, though some retained the long, oval shield of their Celtic ancestors.

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