Hannibal's Elephant Girl

Seeing Hannibal was at ease, I, too, looked at the scroll. It was a strange writing, with some letters I recognized, but arranged differently than ours. Tin Tin and I had only recently learned to read and write the language of Carthage, and that had come almost at the expense of her life, because Tendao had taught us, knowing it was strictly forbidden by the priests. They had tried to burn him at the stake, along with Tin Tin, but Hannibal put a stop to all that.

“Are these your words, Hannibal?” I looked up at him. “Did you write this story?”

He shook his head. “It is the Greek language.”

“Greek?” Tin Tin asked.

“Yes. Do you remember that yellow wine from across the sea?”

“I do,” I said.

“I know that wine, too.” Tin Tin pulled a sour face. “But not like much.”

“This writing,” he waved a hand toward the scroll, “also came from that same land. The writing is called Greek.”

“What story tell?” Tin Tin leaned close, trying to make out the words.

“It’s about a war, at a place called Troy.”

She looked up at Hannibal. “Why make this war?”

“The war was fought over a woman,” Hannibal said.

“A woman?” Tin Tin and I asked together.

“Yes. Her name was Helen. Some men kidnapped her and took her far away. Her husband raised an army and went to rescue her.”

“Hmm,” I said. “Was she so precious then, to fight a war over her?”

“They say she was the most beautiful woman in the world. And her husband loved her very much.”

Tin Tin unrolled the top part of the scroll. “You tell story for Tin Tin and Liada?”

Hannibal glanced at the scroll, but instead of reading, he walked to the rail and gazed out to sea. Soon, he began to speak.

“On this the rest of the Achaeans with one voice were for respecting the priest and taking the ransom that he offered. But not so Agamemnon, who spoke fiercely to him and sent him roughly away. ‘Old man,’ said he, ‘let me not find you tarrying about our ships, nor yet coming hereafter. Your scepter of the god and your wreath shall profit you nothing. I will not free her. She shall grow old in my house at Argos far from her own home, busying herself with her…’” Hannibal strode back to look at the scroll. He ran his finger along a line, then began again. “‘Busying herself with her loom and visiting my couch. So go, and do not provoke me, or it shall be the worse for you.’” Hannibal regarded us for a moment. “I’m trying to commit the whole story to memory.”

I unrolled the lower part of the papyrus scroll and saw it went on for hundreds and hundreds of lines.

“All this, Hannibal? You can keep all this in your memory?” I asked.

“I can only try.” He lifted his drinking bowl and frowned at the dry bottom.

Tin Tin took the empty bowl from his hand. “I fetch raisin wine for you drink.” She ran toward the storeroom. “Do not talk more yet,” she called over her shoulder, “not till Tin Tin come back to hear all words.”

“What did Agamemnon mean?” I asked. “When he said ‘visiting my couch?’”

“Um…well…you see…”

This was something new; Hannibal lost for words. I had never seen him uncertain. Now I knew something interesting was going on between that woman, Helen, and Agamemnon.

“Do you mean,” I said, “that she was like Lotaz back at camp? I saw a couch in her tent.”

“Something like…”

I heard bare feet running along the deck and knew it was Tin Tin. Breathing hard, she held out the bowl of wine, using both hands but still sloshing some of the brown liquid over the rim.

“You drink, Hannibal, then talk more in memory.”

He took the bowl, sipped, then leaned down to read silently for a while. Soon he began to speak, and by sunrise the Trojan War raged all about us while Tin Tin and I sat cross-legged on the deck and Hannibal sat on his stool, reading aloud now but not trying to memorize.

None of us noticed Calogo coming to stand close behind Tin Tin Ban Sunia. He listened to the story for some time, but then apparently remembering he had work to do, he cleared his throat. Hannibal looked up, raising an eyebrow at the boy.

“Lord Hannibal, you…um…last night said these two could help with the water, and I–”

Hannibal raised his hand, stopping Calogo. He looked out at the flat sea, frowning at the lack of waves, then nodded.

We stood, and I hurried to go with Calogo, but then I realized Tin Tin was not coming with us. When I tuned back, she was standing at Hannibal’s table. He had spent the last part of the night indulging two girls’ insatiable curiosity, and I knew he had much more important things to do than entertain us. I ran back and grabbed her hand to pull her away, but she resisted.

“Hannibal,” Tin Tin said, “someday you will teach this words,” she pointed at the open scroll, “to Liada.” She looked at me and grinned. “And maybe Tin Tin Ban Sunia little bit also, too?”

“Thank you, Hannibal.” I stepped back, pulling Tin Tin’s hand until both our arms stretched out at full length. “For telling us the story of Helen. We’ll go help Calogo now.”Tin Tin’s feet seemed rooted the deck; I couldn’t budge her. “Tin Tin,” I whispered. “Come on.”

“Wait, Liada,” Hannibal said. “When the sun is highest,” he gestured toward the top of the mast, “and you see that Dorien has finished his tasks with me, go with him to the shade of the awning, and he will begin to teach you the Greek letters.” He stood and began rolling up the scroll. “But remember, all your duties must be done first.”

Tin Tin grinned at him as I yanked her away. “Thank you, Hannibal,” I said over my shoulder. “We will watch for Dorien when all our duties are finished.”

Calogo had gone ahead of us to start working, but on our way to check on Obolus, we saw Rocrainum, Hannibal’s lieutenant, coming toward us.

“Good morning, Rocrainum,” I said to the tall Carthaginian.

“Good morning, Liada.” He smiled at Tin Tin. “Good morning, Tin Tin Ban Sunia.”

“Morning, Lord Rocrainum,” Tin Tin said.

“I still can’t get used to hearing you speak.”

“My speak not good.”

“Oh, you talk very well.”

Rocrainum was a member of the aristocracy and very handsome man of about twenty, but he was never haughty or arrogant. He was commander of the twenty soldiers on board, and whenever he was not busy with his official duties, he would always chat with us as if we were part of his own class. Something he never did with anyone other than Hannibal.

“Do you think we’ll have the wind today?” I asked.

He looked around at the clear blue sky and calm sea. “I doubt it. If the wind doesn’t come up at dawn, it usually doesn’t come at all.”

“You have breakfast by now?” Tin Tin asked.