Free Tyrant by Valerio Massimo Manfredi Page B

Syracusan. We’ve decided to resist at any cost because that barbarian out there is a bloodthirsty beast and he has sworn to exterminate us for offences we are not to blame for. We readied for combat because you had promised to help us, whereas now you force us to surrender, for we both know full well that we could never succeed alone. This plan of yours is folly, and you are well aware of that. You have twenty-five ships out there, but they are certainly not merchant ships. They are war vessels. How can you think of transporting so many people? You know full well that many of us will be left behind, defenceless, to await a horrible death.
    ‘We are asking you, Syracusans, to reconsider. Remain here with your soldiers and fight at our sides! We will repair the breach, and we will resist until the very last drop of sweat and blood. You will not regret it if you decide to stay. We implore you to remain. Do not abandon us, in the name of the gods!’
    ‘I am sorry,’ replied Diocles. ‘The city is indefensible. Return to your homes, gather together your women and children. Your time is running out; dusk is upon us.’
    ‘Traitors!’ shouted out a voice.
    ‘Cowards!’ shouted another.
    But Diocles did not blink an eye; he walked off in the direction of the eastern gate. Dionysius felt those invectives branding his skin like fire, but he could neither do nor say anything.

     
    The sad exodus began as soon as night fell. The women could not bear to let their arms fall from their husbands’ necks, the children wept pitifully, calling out their fathers’ names. They had to be compelled to leave the city by sheer force. Dionysius’s task was to accompany them to the beach and see to it that they boarded the ships. The rest of the Syracusan army, escorting about one thousand people, began their march along the coastal dune, trying to distance themselves as quickly as possible from the walls of the condemned city. The soldiers marched in silence and their ears were filled, all night long, with the soft, harrowing laments of the women and children who were abandoning their homeland.
    The fleet reached the confines of Messanian territory at the third hour that night. Dionysius disembarked the refugees along with about fifty of his soldiers who would escort them to Messana. He turned back with just a few of his men, who grimly took up the oars at the rowers’ sides, in an attempt to reach Himera before dawn.
    An unfortunate westerly wind greatly delayed their return, despite the concerted efforts of the crews, and when they finally came within sight of Himera, they were forced to witness a horrifying spectacle.
    Hannibal, in utmost secrecy, had had a second mine dug under the city walls. A vast stretch of the walls came crashing down just as the Syracusan sailors were approaching the bay. The Punic mercenaries raged through the city, massacring all those they found and capturing a great number of others.
    Dionysius, on board the flagship, was devastated; he ran to the navarch, who stood at the stern. ‘Quickly, put ashore,’ he said, ‘we’ll land all the available forces. The barbarians are scattered and intent on their plunder: if we fall upon them in a compact attack, we can turn around the situation and . . .’
    The navarch cut him short. ‘Don’t even think of it. My orders are to bring the population to safety and return to Syracuse as soon as possible, not to engage in combat. There’s no one left here to save. Those poor souls are done for; there’s nothing we can do for them any more.’ He turned towards the helmsman. ‘Turn the bow east,’ he ordered, ‘and hoist the sails. We’ll head for the Straits.’
    The big trireme made a wide semicircle towards the north before sailing back in the direction of Messana; the others followed suit one by one, slipping off along the coast. The soldiers on board tried to turn their eyes away from land, but the wind carried to their ears the shrieks – muted by the