When the last dishes were cleared away and the cups refilled, Hamilcar ordered that the prisoners be brought in. There were several hundred of these, many of them wounded, others captured because they fell exhausted or were surrounded. Some were Alexandrian sailors that had swum ashore from sinking ships. All were tightly bound and dejected.
By this time the hollow bronze statue of Baal-Hammon glowed luridly, its head a dull blood red, its hotter belly bright orange. The priests chanted the Moloch prayer as they marched in a circle around the image, casting handfuls of frankincense onto the glowing metal. The aromatic gum flashed away in puffs of sweet smoke. When the rites were done, burly temple slaves grabbed the first prisoner beneath the arms and looked toward the Shofet.
Hamilcar stood and raised his hands with palms outward, toward the god. "O great Baal-Hammon, greatest among the Baalim, we thank you for this day's victory. In your honor we dedicate to you the flesh, blood, bones and lives of the enemy prisoners, to appease your hunger, to avert your wrath, and to plead for your further favor in battles to come. May their cries be music to your ears, and the smoke of their immolation pleasing to your nostrils. Carthage worships you, great Baal-Hammon."
At his nod, the first prisoner was cast, screaming, into the glowing belly of the god. Even before his shrieks ceased, another was cast in. This was done until the glowing image would hold no more smoking, stinking flesh. Then the other prisoners were cast into the other, surrounding fires and while this was done, Hamilcar watched his new Roman allies carefully. Norbanus seemed perfectly at his ease and the rest were at least stoic.
When the feast and sacrifice were at an end, the Romans took their leave and returned to their camp. Priscus was first to break the sullen silence.
"What barbarians! Human sacrifice! Even the Gauls and Germans at their worst were never so disgusting!"
"Peace," Norbanus said. After the day's battle, he had found the feast and the holocaust of the prisoners to be deeply satisfying. "Our allies might hear you. We don't want to hurt their feelings."
Chapter 18
I think it is time to dispose of this Roman,” Eutychus said.
"Not just yet," Parmenion cautioned.
The First Eunuch studied the general with a bland expression. "I would think that you, of all men, would want to see him out of the way now."
The two watched from the highest of the western guard towers as Marcus Scipio, accompanied by Princess Selene, oversaw the defenses in preparation for the arrival of the Carthaginian army. He had been unofficial supervisor for weeks. Now that Parmenion's position hung by a thread, she had little difficulty in making the appointment official.
"I have much to do now," the general said. "Let the man have this clerk's appointment for the nonce. We will take care of him and Selene in time."
Eutychus gave Alexandras an eloquent look and the Prime Minister answered with his own raised eyebrows. Parmenion had shifted the blame for the battle to the commander of the cavalry, for failing to flank and destroy the right wing of Hamilcar's host. The unfortunate Commander and his principal officers had been beheaded before the boy-king and in the presence of the rest of Ptolemy's officers, to encourage them.
The Prime Minister and First Eunuch held their own counsel. They knew all about shifting blame. They had heard reports from the battlefield that Hamilcar's right had been held by his new Roman mercenaries and that these men had fought like the old Spartans.
"Hamilcar is slow in arriving," Alexandras noted. "I expected to see his troops camped among the tombs days ago." From the western wall of Alexandria a vast necropolis stretched toward the setting sun. The Roman had urged that the tombs nearest the wall be demolished, for they would provide cover for Hamilcar's men from arrows and stones. But the Alexandrians had adopted certain native Egyptian customs and values, and to them the tombs of the dead were more important than the homes of the living.
"He is in no rush," Parmenion told them. "He won't stir from the battlefield until his siege train catches up. Hamilcar loves war engines as much as our Roman."
"He is becoming a popular man in the city," Eutychus noted, "and the princess has always been popular."
Parmenion snorted. "Popular! The mob loves him because he provides them with diverting spectacles. He plays with toys like those absurd underwater boats and the fool from the Museum who thinks he's a bird. They think there is something magical in these mechanical follies."
"Do you think any of these things could prove useful?" the First Eunuch asked.
"Maybe if the Carthaginians laugh hard enough, they'll be easier to kill," Parmenion said sourly. "Otherwise, they will prove utterly worthless."
Marcus Scipio sighted along the missile trough of one of the improved ballistas. In testing, its doubling of twisted cords and curved launching arms had provided an extra fifty percent of effective range. But even this was trifling compared to the new catapults. They were still under construction on a platform behind the wall. These had been invented by a man named Endymion who had some theories concerning leverage and the behavior of falling bodies. He applied these theories to the common staff-sling and produced engines that could hurl huge weights for unprecedented heights and distances.
"Can these things really win a war?" Selene asked, doubt heavy in her voice.
Marcus laughed. "No! But, skillfully employed, they can give us an advantage. Nothing wins wars except superior fighting and greater numbers and better tactics. And luck. Let us never forget luck. But if a good tool comes to hand and the enemy doesn't have that tool, it can be used to advantage."
They ranged along the wall, the soldiers bowing their way before them, and they assessed the state of the defenses. In the harbor they saw the new warships being towed to their docks. These were not the exotic underwater boats but they looked as outrageous: galley-length vessels twice the breadth of the common ships, with no trace of mast or sail. Instead, they were covered by humped superstructures plated with overlapping scales of bronze. They terminated in huge, saw-toothed rams. Indeed, each ship was simply an oversized ram, and they were not seaworthy. They were designed strictly for harbor defense and Marcus had dubbed them "crocodiles."
One of the full-sized underwater boats had finally been completed and it was undergoing trials in the harbor. A huge bronze saw protruded from its back like the spine of a dragon. A bronze housing near the bow held the mirror device for seeing above the water. It meant that the vessel could only submerge for one to two cubits and retain vision, but that would be sufficient depth to rip the bottom from a shallow-draught Carthaginian ship. Ramming without destroying the vision device was going to present some challenges, but the odd vessel's skipper thought he had devised tactics to prevent this.
Above the walls stood the burning-mirrors and the more conventional engines of war. The remnants of the beaten army were housed in the Macedonian barracks near the palace and more were arriving from the east, drawn from the garrisons of the Sinai. It would leave Egypt open to aggression from Syria, but the losses had to be made up somehow, and Hamilcar was the more immediate threat.
"It's unfortunate about the flying machine," he remarked.