Salammbô | Page 8

Matho to quite the other end of the terrace, and showed him
the garden, wherein the soldiers' swords, hanging on the trees, were like
mirrors in the sun.
"But here there are strong men whose hatred is roused! and nothing
binds them to Carthage, neither families, oaths nor gods!"

Matho remained leaning against the wall; Spendius came close, and
continued in a low voice:
"Do you understand me, soldier? We should walk purple-clad like
satraps. We should bathe in perfumes; and I should in turn have slaves!
Are you not weary of sleeping on hard ground, of drinking the vinegar
of the camps, and of continually hearing the trumpet? But you will rest
later, will you not? When they pull off your cuirass to cast your corpse
to the vultures! or perhaps blind, lame, and weak you will go, leaning
on a stick, from door to door to tell of your youth to pickle-sellers and
little children. Remember all the injustice of your chiefs, the campings
in the snow, the marchings in the sun, the tyrannies of discipline, and
the everlasting menace of the cross! And after all this misery they have
given you a necklace of honour, as they hang a girdle of bells round the
breast of an ass to deafen it on its journey, and prevent it from feeling
fatigue. A man like you, braver than Pyrrhus! If only you had wished it!
Ah! how happy will you be in large cool halls, with the sound of lyres,
lying on flowers, with women and buffoons! Do not tell me that the
enterprise is impossible. Have not the Mercenaries already possessed
Rhegium and other fortified places in Italy? Who is to prevent you?
Hamilcar is away; the people execrate the rich; Gisco can do nothing
with the cowards who surround him. Command them! Carthage is ours;
let us fall upon it!"
"No!" said Matho, "the curse of Moloch weighs upon me. I felt it in her
eyes, and just now I saw a black ram retreating in a temple." Looking
around him he added: "But where is she?"
Then Spendius understood that a great disquiet possessed him, and did
not venture to speak again.
The trees behind them were still smoking; half-burned carcases of apes
dropped from their blackened boughs from time to time into the midst
of the dishes. Drunken soldiers snored open-mouthed by the side of the
corpses, and those who were not asleep lowered their heads dazzled by
the light of day. The trampled soil was hidden beneath splashes of red.
The elephants poised their bleeding trunks between the stakes of their
pens. In the open granaries might be seen sacks of spilled wheat, below

the gate was a thick line of chariots which had been heaped up by the
Barbarians, and the peacocks perched in the cedars were spreading their
tails and beginning to utter their cry.
Matho's immobility, however, astonished Spendius; he was even paler
than he had recently been, and he was following something on the
horizon with fixed eyeballs, and with both fists resting on the edge of
the terrace. Spendius crouched down, and so at last discovered at what
he was gazing. In the distance a golden speck was turning in the dust
on the road to Utica; it was the nave of a chariot drawn by two mules; a
slave was running at the end of the pole, and holding them by the bridle.
Two women were seated in the chariot. The manes of the animals were
puffed between the ears after the Persian fashion, beneath a network of
blue pearls. Spendius recognised them, and restrained a cry.
A large veil floated behind in the wind.
CHAPTER II
AT SICCA
Two days afterwards the Mercenaries left Carthage.
They had each received a piece of gold on the condition that they
should go into camp at Sicca, and they had been told with all sorts of
caresses:
"You are the saviours of Carthage! But you would starve it if you
remained there; it would become insolvent. Withdraw! The Republic
will be grateful to you later for all this condescension. We are going to
levy taxes immediately; your pay shall be in full, and galleys shall be
equipped to take you back to your native lands."
They did not know how to reply to all this talk. These men, accustomed
as they were to war, were wearied by residence in a town; there was
difficulty in convincing them, and the people mounted the walls to see
them go away.

They defiled through the street of Khamon, and the Cirta gate,
pell-mell, archers with hoplites, captains with soldiers, Lusitanians with
Greeks. They marched with a bold step, rattling their heavy cothurni on
the paving stones. Their armour was dented by the catapult, and their
faces