"Then I shall be their guide," Zarabel said, rising. "It has been too long since the people have seen me."
"I would never deny my subjects such a sight," Hamilcar said. Then, to the Romans: "We will continue our talks this evening. A house will be assigned for your use, one of the finest in the city. Tomorrow there will be a formal banquet in your honor."
"Your Majesty is most generous," Marcus said. "On behalf of the Senate and people of Rome, I thank you. I believe this presages a splendid future for relations between Rome and Carthage."
When the Romans and his sister were gone, Hamilcar beckoned to Lord Hirham. "Were the old Romans such desirable allies?"
"Decidedly," the old counselor said. "They became so expert in the arts of war and were so punctilious in observing the stipulations of their military alliances, that many nations sought treaties with them. They then commonly trumped up a war with their neighbors, knowing that having Rome on their side assured victory. There was, of course, an undesirable concomitant to such an alliance."
"And what was that?"
"Once the Romans were on their allies' soil in military force, they often stayed."
Hamilcar smiled. "Conquest through alliance, eh? Very clever. We have been known to play that game ourselves. Well, these people are not politically sophisticated. They appear to be even more unsophisticated than their barbarous ancestors, in fact. You saw how they gawked at my shameless sister."
Why did she dare to provoke him in such a fashion? Even as the thought struck him, he knew the answer. Theirs was a power struggle as ancient as Carthage itself. It was a contest between the secular authority of the Shofets and the religious authority of the priests. As he sought to make Baal-Hammon the symbol of the Shofet himself, she exalted the orgiastic cult of Tanit. As he identified Baal-Hammon with the Greek Zeus, she emphasized the traditional nature of Punic religion. She refused to wear a decent Greek peplos, preferring a barbarous display of flesh and jewelry. He was the new, Hellenistic world, she the embodiment of dark, mystical Carthage. And she overlooked no opportunity to advance her power to the detriment of his own.
Sometimes, he thought, it seems a pity that it is forbidden to crucify members of the royal family. The headsman is far too merciful.
Outside the palace, the Roman delegation stood waiting for the litters that would bear them down to the city walls.
"This is not necessary," Marcus protested. "Romans of military age get about on their own feet within a city. Litters are for the elderly."
"But a princess of Carthage cannot allow her feet to touch profane ground," she answered. "And she cannot have her honored guests trailing her on foot like so many servants."
"It seems we are compelled to comply," said Flaccus. She studied the man. He was not as stiff-backed and martial as the others. The one called Norbanus was eyeing her with apparent impassivity but she could feel the lust in his eyes. The leader, the one named Scipio, was better at masking his feelings.
The litters that arrived moments later were designed for displaying their passengers. They had canopies to protect riders from the burning sun of Africa, but there were no curtains. The riders sat in high chairs draped with animal skins, and incense burned in brass pots at the corners of the vehicles. Each litter carried six passengers and was borne by sixteen brawny slaves matched for height and color.
Zarabel stepped onto the lead litter, a conveyance even more luxurious than the rest, carried by sooty Nubians of imposing stature. Her chair was higher than the others, covered with the skin of what appeared to be a white bear. She patted the chair next to her and Marcus took it. Flaccus, Norbanus and two of the others joined them. When all were aboard, the litters were hoisted and carried down the great ceremonial stairway of the palace. Marcus marveled at the skill with which the bearers kept their burdens level while smoothly negotiating the difficult stairs.
Once through the palace gates and in the city proper, the cortege proceeded at a brisk pace along the broad, straight streets. At sight of the royal litter, the crowds thronging the thoroughfares reacted variously. Slaves threw themselves prostrate, ordinary citizens knelt and touched their foreheads to the pavement. Those who looked like nobles or priests bowed stiffly and deeply from the waist. As they passed, the people rose and sang Zarabel's praises, calling the blessings of all the Baalim upon her. The Romans could not understand the words, but the intent was plain.
"This is what she really wants us to see," Flaccus commented in Latin. "Not the walls, but how the people praise her."
"Probably," Marcus answered. "But what I want to see are those walls. Now stick to Greek. It's impolite to use a language the princess cannot understand."
The city was large and splendid, but they were already glutted with the sight of imposing buildings of eclectic architecture. They were well satisfied that Carthage was wealthy and powerful beyond measure. They were more interested in its military preparedness.
When the walls came into view, they did not at first understand what they were seeing. From the sea, the walls had presented a sheer cliff. What they saw before them was more like a mountain cut into titanic steps. It sloped upward and away like the seats of a stadium built for gods. It took them a while to understand that the tiny dots moving along the steps were men and animals. Zarabel glanced sidelong at the Romans. Their frozen faces spoke volumes.
The bearers carried them to a ramp that sloped up the bottommost step. They ascended easily to the first level, where the ramp doubled back and ascended to the next. Each step was wide enough for a column of men to march four abreast. They did not have to estimate, because everywhere they looked, they saw soldiers drilling in exactly this fashion.
"Where are these men quartered when they are not on duty on the wall?" Marcus asked.
"They are quartered right here," the princess answered. "Their barracks are inside the wall itself."
"Inside the wall?" Norbanus marveled. "You mean you've quarried their lodgings in the stone itself?"
"This wall, which my ancestor Hannibal built to replace the old one, was built to accommodate all its defenders: barracks, armories, commissary, everything. There are provisions sufficient to withstand a siege of many years and an abundance of missiles for the engines atop the wall. There are stables-"
"Stables?" Norbanus interrupted. "Here?"
She smiled. "Well, you will see for yourselves."
They came to the fourth level. This one was five or six times as broad as the others. The princess spoke to the bearers and they turned northward along this level. It was studded with broad wooden doors giving access into the interior of the wall. Amid a clatter of hooves, a band of cavalry rode toward them. At sight of the royal conveyance their officer halted his men and all dismounted and knelt as the cortege passed. These men wore no armor, only white tunics. Their hair was knotted into many short braids and each man carried across his back a quiver of javelins.
"These are Libyan irregular cavalry," Zarabel told them. "We have multitudes of them."
The Romans had small regard for cavalry, which they considered useful for little except scouting, skirmishing and chasing down a fleeing enemy after the battle. The walls were another matter. The Romans were past masters of great engineering feats, but the scale of these walls was staggering. The thought of the amount of labor and resources demanded by the project numbed the mind.
Zarabel called a halt before a row of wooden doors and pointed to an inscription carved above them in archaic Phoenician. "This is stable number 47." At her signal the doors were opened and they were carried inside. Instantly, the atmosphere was redolent of horses. Stalls stretched far into the interior and they were carried past huge bins full of hay and grain. Slaves wearing white loincloths carried out baskets of manure while others curried and groomed the multitude of horses. To their astonishment, they came to a long stone ditch that carried a stream of fresh water.