Hannibal Barca

I was bred to war under my father Hamilcar in Iberia, where, as a boy, I swore at the altar never to be Rome’s friend. As commander I struck at Saguntum, Rome’s ally, after a hard siege; they called it a crime and made it war. I took a mixed host of Africans, Iberians, and Numidians north, choosing the road that Rome thought impassable.

At the Rhône we ferried elephants on rafts; in the Alps, snow and tribes killed more than swords. What survived reached Italy tempered. I bled their armies at the Ticinus and Trebia, and at Lake Trasimene I hid men in the folds of ground and destroyed Flaminius in morning fog.

At Cannae I let the Roman mass press in, bowed my center, then closed the trap with horse on both flanks. I did not march on their walls: no engines, thin supplies, and Italy still watching. I released many Italian prisoners to loosen Rome’s allies; some came over, most did not.

Years later Scipio forced me home by striking Africa. At Zama his steadier legions and Masinissa’s Numidian cavalry broke me. As suffete I cut graft and set our payments in order; enemies drove me into exile. I advised Antiochus, then Prusias, once casting jars of live snakes onto Pergamene decks. When Rome hunted me again at Libyssa, I chose poison before chains.