The Young Carthaginian: A Story of The Times of Hannibal

The lion, under the influence of the mingled firmness and kindness of Malchus, had now recovered his docility, and followed him about the house like a great dog, sleeping stretched out on a mat by the side of his couch.

Sempronius continued his visits. Malchus was seldom present when he was with Flavia, but Clotilde was generally in the room. It was now the height of summer, and her duty was to stand behind her mistress with a large fan, with which she kept up a gentle current of air over Flavia’s head and drove off the troublesome flies. Sometimes she had to continue doing so for hours, while Flavia chatted with her friends.

Sempronius was biding his time. The two slaves were still high in Flavia’s favour, but he was in hopes that something might occur which would render her willing to part with them. He watched Julia narrowly whenever Malchus entered the room, and became more and more convinced that she had taken a strong fancy for the Carthaginian slave, and the idea occurred to him that by exciting her jealousy he might succeed in obtaining his object. So careful were Malchus and Clotilde that he had no idea whatever that any understanding existed between them. This, however, mattered but little; nothing was more likely than that these two handsome slaves should fall in love with each other, and he determined to suggest the idea to Julia.

Accordingly one day when he was sitting beside her, while Flavia was talking with some other visitors, he remarked carelessly, “Your mother’s two slaves, the Carthaginian and the Gaul, would make a handsome couple.”

He saw a flush of anger in Julia’s face. For a moment she did not reply, and then said in a tone of indifference:

“Yes, they are each well favoured in their way.”

“Methinks the idea has occurred to them,” Sempronius said. “I have seen them glance at each other, and doubt not that when beyond your presence they do not confine themselves to looks.”

Julia was silent, but Sempronius saw, in the tightly compressed lips and the lowering brow with which she looked from one to the other, that the shaft had told.

“I have wondered sometimes,” he said, “in an idle moment, whether they ever met before. The Carthaginians were for some time among the Cisalpine Gauls, and the girl was, you have told me, the daughter of a chief there; they may well have met.”

Julia made no reply, and Sempronius, feeling that he had said enough, began to talk on other subjects. Julia scarcely answered him, and at last impatiently waved him away. She sat silent and abstracted until the last of the visitors had left, then she rose from her seat and walked quietly up to her mother and said abruptly to Clotilde, who was standing behind her mistress: “Did you know the slave Malchus before you met here?”

The suddenness of the question sent the blood up into the cheeks of the Gaulish maiden, and Julia felt at once that the hints of Sempronius were fully justified.

“Yes,” Clotilde answered quietly, “I met him when, with Hannibal, he came down from the Alps into our country.”

“Why did you not say so before?” Julia asked passionately. “Mother, the slaves have been deceiving us.”

“Julia,” Flavia said in surprise, “why this heat? What matters it to us whether they have met before?”

Julia did not pay any attention, but stood with angry eyes waiting for Clotilde’s answer.

“I did not know, Lady Julia,” the girl said quietly, “that the affairs of your slaves were of any interest to you. We recognized each other when we first met. Long ago now, when we were both in a different position—”

“And when you loved each other?” Julia said in a tone of concentrated passion.

“And when we loved each other,” Clotilde repeated, her head thrown back now, and her bearing as proud and haughty as that of Julia.

“You hear that, mother? you hear this comedy that these slaves have been playing under your nose? Send them both to the whipping post.”

“My dear Julia,” Flavia exclaimed, more and more surprised at her anger, “what harm has been done? You astonish me. Clotilde, you can retire. What means all this, Julia?” she went on more severely when they were alone; “why all this strange passion because two slaves, who by some chance have met each other before, are lovers? What is this Gaulish girl, what is this Carthaginian slave, to you?”

“I love him, mother!” Julia said passionately.

“You!” Flavia exclaimed in angry surprise; “you, Julia, of the house of Gracchus, love a slave! You are mad, girl, and shameless.”

“I say so without shame,” Julia replied, “and why should I not? He is a noble of Carthage, though now a prisoner of war. What if my father is a consul? Malchus is the cousin of Hannibal, who is a greater man than Rome has ever yet seen. Why should I not wed him?”

“In the first place, it seems, Julia,” Flavia said gravely, “because he loves someone else. In the second place, because, as I hear, he is likely to be exchanged very shortly for a praetor taken prisoner at Cannae, and will soon be fighting against us. In the third place, because all Rome would be scandalized were a Roman maiden of the patrician order, and of the house of Gracchus, to marry one of the invaders of her country. Go to, Julia, I blush for you! So this is the reason why of late you have behaved so coldly to Sempronius. Shame on you, daughter! What would your father say, did he, on his return from the field, hear of your doings? Go to your chamber, and do not let me see you again till you can tell me that you have purged this madness from your veins.”

Without a word Julia turned and left the room. Parental discipline was strong in Rome, and none dare disobey a parent’s command, and although Julia had far more liberty and license than most unmarried Roman girls, she did not dare to answer her mother when she spoke in such a tone.

Flavia sat for some time in thought, then she sent for Malchus. He had already exchanged a few words with Clotilde, and was therefore prepared for her questions.

“Malchus, is it true that you love my Gaulish slave girl?”

“It is true,” Malchus replied quietly. “When we met in Gaul, two years since, she was the daughter of a chief, I a noble of Carthage. I loved her; but we were both young, and with so great a war in hand it was not a time to speak of marriage.”

“Would you marry her now?”

“Not as a slave,” Malchus replied; “when I marry her it shall be before the face of all men—I as a noble of Carthage, she as a noble Gaulish maiden.”

“Hannibal is treating for your exchange now,” Flavia said. “There are difficulties in the way, for, as you know, the senate have refused to allow its citizens who surrender to be ransomed or exchanged; but the friends of the praetor Publius are powerful and are bringing all their influence to bear to obtain the exchange of their kinsman, whom Hannibal has offered for you. I will gladly use what influence I and my family possess to aid them. I knew when you came to me that, as a prisoner of war, it was likely that you might be exchanged.”

“You have been very kind, my Lady Flavia,” Malchus said, “and I esteem myself most fortunate in having fallen into such hands. Since you know now how it is with me and Clotilde, I can ask you at once to let me ransom her of you. Any sum that you like to name I will bind myself, on my return to the Carthaginian camp, to pay for her.”

“I will think it over,” Flavia said graciously. “Clotilde is useful to me, but I can dispense with her services, and will ask you no exorbitant amount for her. If the negotiations for your exchange come to aught, you may rely upon it that she shall go hence with you.”

With an expression of deep gratitude Malchus retired. Flavia, in thus acceding to the wishes of Malchus, was influenced by several motives. She was sincerely shocked at Julia’s conduct, and was most desirous of getting both Malchus and Clotilde away, for she knew that her daughter was headstrong as she was passionate, and the presence of Clotilde in the house would, even were Malchus absent, be a source of strife and bitterness between herself and her daughter.

In the second place, it would be a pretty story to tell her friends, and she should be able to take credit to herself for her magnanimity in parting with her favourite attendant. Lastly, in the present state of affairs it might possibly happen that it would be of no slight advantage to have a friend possessed of great power and influence in the Carthaginian camp. Her husband might be captured in fight—it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that Rome itself might fall into the hands of the Carthaginians. It was, therefore, well worth while making a friend of a man who was a near relation of Hannibal.

For some days Julia kept her own apartment. All the household knew that something had gone wrong, though none were aware of the cause. A general feeling of uneasiness existed, for Julia had from a child in her fits of temper been harsh with her slaves, venting her temper by cruelly beating and pinching them. Many a slave had been flogged by her orders at such a time, for her mother, although herself an easy mistress, seldom interfered with her caprices, and all that she did was good in the eyes of her father.

At the end of the week Flavia told Malchus that the negotiations for his release had been broken off, the Roman senate remaining inflexible in the resolve that Romans who surrendered to the enemy should not be exchanged. Malchus was much disappointed, as it had seemed that the time of his release was near; however, he had still his former plan of escape to fall back upon.

A day or two later Julia sent a slave with a message to Sempronius, and in the afternoon sallied out with a confidential attendant, who always accompanied her when she went abroad. In the Forum she met Sempronius, who saluted her.

“Sempronius,” she said coming at once to the purpose, “will you do me a favour?”

“I would do anything to oblige you, Lady Julia, as you know.”

“That is the language of courtesy,” Julia said shortly; “I mean would you be ready to run some risk?”

“Certainly,” Sempronius answered readily.

“You will do it the more readily, perhaps,” Julia said, “inasmuch as it will gratify your revenge. You have reason to hate Malchus, the Carthaginian slave.”

Sempronius nodded.

“Your suspicion was true, he loves the Gaulish slave; they have been questioned and have confessed it. I want them separated.”

“But how?” Sempronius asked, rejoicing inwardly at finding that Julia’s wishes agreed so nearly with his own.

“I want her carried off,” Julia said shortly. “When once you have got her you can do with her as you will; make her your slave, kill her, do as you like with her, that is nothing to me—all I want is that she shall go. I suppose you have some place where you could take her?”

“Yes,” Sempronius said, “I have a small estate among the Alban Hills where she would be safe enough from searchers; but how to get her there? She never goes out except with Lady Flavia.”

“She must be taken from the house,” Julia said shortly; “pretty slaves have been carried off before now, and no suspicion need light upon you. You might find some place in the city to hide her for a few days, and then boldly carry her through the gates in a litter. None will think of questioning you.”

“The wrath of Lady Flavia would be terrible,” Sempronius said doubtfully.