Backscatter

Ethbaal's army was one of the largest armed forces assembled anywhere on Earth in the six years since the plague. The king had virtually stripped his country of all the adult citizen males. He had a single battalion of 600 men bluffing the Philistines not to attack at Tyre and another single battalion barely keeping the slaves from revolting in the other towns along the Canaanite coast. Except for the mentally feeble and old, almost every other man was here.

Facing Hannibal were nine full battalions of Ethbaal's citizen army, 5400 men armed with axe, knife, and mace and even a few swords. At the very front were forty professional swordsmen from first battalion, first platoon, pulled from the king's personal guard. The main army had cheered these great warriors as they took their frontline positions just before the charge, taking the gesture as a measure of supreme confidence from their king that they would be victorious. They did not realize the placement was a punishment for allowing Ethbaal to be humiliated through his torn cloak.

When at full strength, the king's first battalion consisted of ten platoons of professional soldiers of sixty men each. First platoon was his personal bodyguard, and then three platoons each of archers, swordsmen, and cavalry. But in the horrible battles of two weeks ago, two platoons of archers and one platoon of swordsmen had been completely annihilated by the strange and awful magical arts of the Madeirans. It had taken two weeks of timid probing for the king to decide that the magicians would not attack again.

Ethbaal's battle plan was simple and correct for the era. With an army far superior in both numbers and fighting skill, he should seize the opportunity to crush his concentrated and inferior foe. The primary mission of the citizen battalions was to mix with Hannibal's forces and create a chaotic melee, thousands of individual contests. Through the turbulence Ethbaal's cavalry and swordsmen would move at will, slaying their opponents in great numbers. And when the pain and loss became too great and the enemy broke and ran, their doom was sealed. More men were typically killed in the disorganized retreat than in the initial battle itself. Hannibal's army would be slaughtered.

There was a large division in the occupational backgrounds of the two citizen armies. Ethbaal's battalions were comprised mostly of town folk, both fishermen and tradesmen who practiced warfare with blade and mace. There were comparatively few archers in their ranks, and Ethbaal was a firm believer of a war saying his father had taught him, that at close range an archer is an unarmed man.

The mission of the shock troops was to rush through the lethal range of Hannibal's arrows as quickly as possible and engage his forces with axe and mace. Ethbaal definitely did not want his citizen army to get bogged down in a long-range shootout with Hannibal's superior archers, and then leave it to his precious swordsmen and infinitely precious cavalry to bridge to gap.

Based on this thinking, Ethbaal had purposely stripped the few archers in his main army of their bows. The army must have no choice but to sprint across a volley or two of arrows and then overwhelm Hannibal's archers. Ethbaal's sole force of archers was the tenth platoon of his professional army. He had split the force into two groups of thirty and assigned them the minor task of staying at the sides of the battle once the melee started. Their job was to shoot and kill deserters, anyone from either army trying to flee down the steep sides of the ravines to the north and south.

Hunting was an important activity for many of the farmers in the Baka valley, providing the meat of various small mammals and many species of migratory birds for their families. Half of Hannibal's freemen were so good at archery that it was their first choice of weapon for battle.

Nearly every other freeman and all the slaves had become pike men and had trained with the weapon for the last two weeks. They were positioned in a classic Tercio formation, six to seven ranks thick of pike men three hundred files across, stretching across the sloping hill from one ragged ravine to the other. The front face of the line was incredibly strong against anything except projectile weapons.

The classic points of weakness of the Tercio were the two ends of the line. The problem was well recognized by medieval times, and many solutions had been tried. Among the most common solution was the "pike and shot" checkerboard formation, anchoring the edges of the pike line with as many musketeers and bowmen as possible in order to prevent a flanking attack on the line's vulnerable sides.

Hannibal had spread his archers in back of the entire length of the pike line, with extra concentrations at both ends near the ravines. Armed with bow, mace and axe, the archers had perhaps the most complex job of the force. They had drilled that their first priority was to protect the pike men from attack after a breach in the line. The pike men's job in such an event was not to fight the penetrators but to work to restore the pike line. The archers would swarm and engage the enemy with all their weapons. If the pike men failed to seal a major breach before the cavalry arrived, Hannibal's army was doomed.

Without a breach, the archers were free to stand above and behind the pike men on the hilly slope and fire at will into the opposing army held at bay. If possible, they were instructed to fire at targets near the edges of the line, as extra protection against a flanking attack. It was Hannibal's great hope that a decisive blow could be delivered to his opponent before the attackers realized their situation, stopped their charge and retreated. The pike would be a surprise weapon for only one battle.

Hannibal couldn't have asked for better weather. The rocky ground was slippery from the overnight rain, and the rough rocks were more ragged than they looked. This would slow down the attacker's charge. Hannibal hoped the thin mists and the chaos of the warfare would make difficult for Ethbaal to see and react to the casualties his army would take.

A great wave of running humanity reached the bottom of the hill two hundred meters distant and began to flow up the hill. The roar of almost six thousand men was fearsome, and Hannibal blinked in surprise as his keen eyes recognized the regalia of so many of the king's personal guard as the lead runners. The killer wave approached with maddening quickness and even seemed to accelerate. The moment of battle was upon them.

Hannibal's archers held their fire as ordered as the wave closed the final gap. All of the pikes were being held straight up, and the pike men holding them appeared completely defenseless to the onrushing mass and ripe for the slaughter. The attacking army raised their swords and axes high and sprinted to attack as fast as they could. The hill was covered by a fast and dense river of warriors flowing uphill.

And then the river of men passed the tiny strips of yellow markers the pike men had laid out ninety cubits in front of their line. It was the signal to drop and brace the pikes, one fluid motion completed seconds before the attacking surge hit the line. Two hundred attackers at the very front of the wave found themselves running headlong into an impossibly dense wall of two thousand deadly pikes, more than six pike heads for every linear meter of line.

There was no time to stop or even to think. Propelled by the runners behind them, the first wave slammed against the wall of death. Their short shields sometimes deflected one pike or maybe two but never enough. Two hundred men were skewered within seconds and a great agonizing death cry rose from their ranks. It was the signal for Hannibal's nine hundred archers to fire two deadly volleys of arrows into the opposing army beyond the wall of death. And then Hannibal's army began a slow retreat up the hill.

The pike heads were long and thin for the first half cubit, razor sharp steel designed to penetrate any armor and deliver a lethally deep puncture wound. The head then curved into a wide flair, preventing the pike from becoming stuck in its target. With practiced swift jerks of the wrist, the pikes were freed from their old victims and available for fresh ones as the line marched backwards.

A physical shock wave flowed back against the river of humanity flowing up the hill. The air was filled with horrible screams of agony, not from the dead warriors killed by the pikes but by the hundreds of men felled by the arrows. The shock wave caused many to trip and fall, slowing down and causing the remaining wave to become less dense. It was exactly what Hannibal wanted.

Almost all of the witnesses to the first wave of pike slaughter lay dead or gravely wounded from multiple arrow strikes. They had no time to warm their fellow warriors racing by of the terrible power of the pike line. A second wave of humanity stumbled across the dead and dying of the first attack and threw themselves against the line, trying to break Hannibal's organized forces into a chaotic melee. A second terrible wave of pike death befell the attackers, followed by another twin volley of arrows to kill the witnesses. Hannibal's army walked back again, hoping to reset for a third round of slaughter.

And it did work a third time, and a fourth. Less than three minutes into the battle, there was a shocking amount of carnage on the hill, more than two thousand lay dead or gravely wounded, the men piled up in an area 600 cubits by 200 cubits in size. On parts of the hill, the bodies lay packed so closely together, the ground below became saturated with blood and was not even visible.

It wasn't until the fifth wave that the surging river of men paused as the attackers tried to adjust to the meat grinder they were caught in. Those in the center of the hill were in a hopeless position. Behind the citizen army were two platoons of the king's swordsmen and three platoons of cavalry, three hundred professional warriors with orders to slay any deserter who froze or tried to run back. A great agonizing cry of pain and despair rose from the hill as the fifth wave of attackers met their awful fate against pike and arrow.

The attacking flow began to break down and become more disorganized as the reflecting shock waves against the pike line rippled down the hill. Through the mists and the dim morning light, Ethbaal and his commanders had no idea that the screams of agony were coming only from their own troops. The professional army continued to herd the shock troops in front of them to their deaths. And Hannibal's line continued to fall back and clear the pike line of the carnage it was creating. Completely misunderstanding the situation, Ethbaal started to laugh uncontrollably with the thrill of his victory.

On both sides of the hill, loyalist fishermen and tradesmen near the ravines threw away their weapons and began to climb down the steep rocks to escape the horrible death of the battle. On the north side, the thirty royal archers of the king began firing at the unarmed deserters, slaughtering the helpless men without mercy. The cruelty of the archers infuriated the nearby loyalist citizen army and they turned on them. Soon a roaring secondary battle was taking place.

Hannibal wasn't so fortunate on his southern flank. The half platoon of king's archers saw the great flow of deserters but also saw the organized ranks of pike men and moved in to engage them. There were brief fierce exchanges of arrows with Hannibal's far more numerous archers. Before it was over thirty men lay dead or seriously wounded on both sides.

The professional cavalry and swordsmen couldn't believe what was before them. The citizen army seemed to have melted away to the north and south. In front of the king's men lay three hundred cubits of utter carnage, and beyond stood Hannibal's army intact. Loyal to their king, the cavalry charged and the two platoons of swordsmen sprinted behind, ignoring the wounded still caught on the hill.

The carnage on the ground was greatly in Hannibal's favor. No rider had ever experienced such a concentrated area of pure death underfoot. More than a third of the 180 horses tripped and fell during the charge, either from the blood-slick slope or by impaling a hoof on the numerous axes and blades scattered across the land. An equal number of mounts were killed or disabled by two dense volleys of arrows fired from Hannibal's archers. And then fifty riders charged directly into the upturned pikes of the line.

It was shear and utter pandemonium. Almost all the horses were killed instantly by multiple deep pike wounds to the chest and neck areas. But the momentum of their charge caused many of the skewered horses to hurl into the pike men or even pole-vault over the line and to crash on the other side, often crushing their former riders. The intensity of the carnage shocked both armies, and for a moment there were numerous breaches in the pike line.

The southern and northern parts of the line quickly reformed, but in the center where the cavalry had focused their charge, Ethbaal finally got the melee he desired. The air was thick with arrows as his remaining two platoons of swordsmen fell upon the disorganized pike men. Archers from the north and south rushed to the center to defend the breach.

Ethbaal continued to laugh insanely as he raced through the carnage with his sword raised and his dozen remaining personal guard sprinting by his side. His mind lost all contact with reality. It was impossible for him to lose, thus all the carnage around him must be Hannibal's forces. And his swordsmen were fighting in the melee just ahead! Victory! But where were all his cavalry?! His feet and legs covered in bloody muck, he continued to make his way up the hill, his wild eyes darting left and right looking for the loyal subject who would bring him Hannibal's head and cock.

Despite their bravery and skill, the last two platoons of swordsmen were no match for the many hundreds of archers who were firing on them. The pike men, the slaves in particular, were also fighting fiercely, practicing their trained skills of banding together and skewering isolated attackers. By the time the king reached the front line, he and his dozen bodyguards were the only royal force left on the hill.

The two mismatched opponents eyed each other in shock for a moment, neither quite believing their separate fortune and misfortune. It was the slaves who recovered first, carrying their pikes and rapidly descending in two pincer movements to cut off the king's escape.

Hannibal might have spared the guard, probably not the king but perhaps the members of his guard. But he was preoccupied a hundred meters distant. His cousin Edom had bravely attacked the king's swordsmen in the melee, and during the peak of the short battle Edom's stomach had been sliced open. He was dying in the arms of a crying Hannibal.

The slaves moved to tighten their ring around the king's men. The reality of his fate finally came crashing down on Ethbaal's bewildered mind. How had such a thing come to pass? He stared at the army of pike men and archers around him and wailed in despair. Ethbaal then turned to his most trusted guard and valet and pleaded, "Slay me!"

"My lord?!"

"I will not let this scum defile my living body! I order you to slay me!"

But the terrified man couldn't do it, so with a wild glassy look in his eyes, Ethbaal fell upon his own sword. Seeing his king dead, the valet followed his example into eternity.

Aboard the M.N.S. Urushalim Express.

A dozen officers were gathered below decks in the ship's situation room, staring at a number of monitors. Captain Silva gave a deep sigh. "So, I guess history can repeat itself after all."

A fellow officer nodded and whispered, "The end of First Samuel, the death of Saul, yes, spooky how similar this is."

Megan spoke up. "Captain, the war is over. People are dying out there. Request permission to disembark and treat the wounded."

The answer came quickly. "Request denied."

"Sir?!"

"We are under explicit orders not to get involved with further authorization from Congress."

"But sir,"

"Our orders are clear Ensign."

Megan gave a strangled cry. "I may be an animal doctor, but I'm still violating my medical oaths if I stand idle now. Captain...."

"Ensign, request denied." There was a moment of tense silence, and then Silva's voice softened. "Megan, I understand your plight, but you'll have to violate either your medical oath or the oath of your commission. And if you violate the latter, you may well sabotage all the work the Engagement faction is doing at Funchal. If Congress feels they've lost control of their military, it'll be decades before we associate with the Phoenicians again." He paused and then added, "Give Congress time to make the right decision."

Megan grimaced and nodded her head.

Back on the hill...

The remaining few guard were packed into a tight circle, surrounded by enemy archers and pike men at the bottom of a great U shape. The pike men were growling at their former masters, but the archers were sure of their victory and not particularly menacing. It was unclear what would happen if the swordsmen pleaded for mercy. But then a captain roared and charged the army of archers, and in trained obedience the rest followed. The next few seconds proved the complement of Ethbaal's truism, that at long range a swordsman is an unarmed man.

Three hours later.

Time: Thursday, May 27, 2055 4:51 AM UMT

The lone man sat with his sword in his lap, perfectly motionless near the bottom of the valley, his legs folded beneath his torso in lotus fashion. He had been so still that incredibly no one had noticed him for over three hours, even though he sat with his back perfectly vertical and upright. But then the cry went up, and five minutes later Hannibal and a small group of archers approached. Hannibal signaled the archers to stand back, and he walked alone until he stood a mere ten cubits from the last of the king's men.

The man surprised Hannibal by slowly rising in a fluid motion, letting his sword fall to the ground. He then formally bowed and said, "Do not misinterpret me. I am not asking for mercy, only saluting you for your campaign."

"I'm not here to kill you Uriah."

Hannibal's comment seemed to sail completely over the Hittite's head. The man stared into Hannibal's eyes. "I did enjoy this last morning, watching the Madeirans and their healing magic. There is one goddess in particular. Her work is truly divine, first with the humans and now with the horses. Is she the goddess of the hunt and wild animals? Is she the wife of Eshmun?" Uriah was referring to the Phoenician god of healing.

"Megan?" Hannibal smiled. "I know what you mean. I was as surprised as you were."

"Megan the ambassador? That was the goddess I saw?"

Hannibal nodded. "Yes, such skill, saving both men and beasts from certain death."

"Skill?" Uriah looked momentarily confused. "But she is a goddess." He looked at the sky and gave a small shrug. "No matter."

The dawn mists had cleared long ago and now the sun was due east and almost halfway up the sky. It was turning into a hot sunny day. Somehow that pleased Uriah. He thought he would rather die in the light than in the darkness.

"Do you know the fate of Ittobaal?" asked Hannibal.

Uriah lowered his head. "No. The Right Hand was like smoke, slipping through fingers at the start of the battle." He paused for a moment and added. "I'm not trying to protect him. I truly don't know."

"I believe you."

Uriah stared at the sky again. "You know, I've lived my whole life and never realized till this morning how beautiful clouds can be." He took a deep breath. "How stupid of me. But I've had some enjoyable time beyond my allotment, enough time to correct my mistake. I thank you for that Hannibal."