As he walked out of the camp he thought he saw the queen of the Amazons standing between two tents, following him with saddened eyes; but Asbyte, when her gaze met Hannibal's, moved away and turned her back upon him haughtily.
Trumpets blew, and the army stirred, marching against the city.
The mantelets rolled forward, veritable parapets of wood, through the interstices of which the bowmen shot. Under cover of these portable bulwarks the Africans armed with pickaxes advanced, while in other directions throughout the valley hurried the Celtiberians, carrying their ladders in front of them.
In an instant the walls were manned with defenders. Over the merlons appeared sinewy arms hurling missiles, slings swirled discharging stones, and bows bent followed by sharp hisses.
Hannibal, to animate the assailants, marched behind the fifteen hundred Africans, laughing at the projectiles which struck the wooden sides of the mantelets. Several nights, dragging himself on his belly, and at the risk of being taken prisoner, he had reached the foot of that rampart which projected on the valley side, and which formed the strongest wall of the city. The base was composed of great stones laid in clay. The chieftain being convinced that it was difficult to scale the walls, decided to open a breach through the foundation by undermining the reddish rampart before which his army had been confounded.
As they drew near it the Africans abandoned the shelter of the mantelets and hurled themselves furiously against the barrier of enormous stones. Naked, black, shouting, raising and lowering their muscular arms which ended in glittering iron-pointed pickaxes, they looked like infernal spirits sent by the Cabiric gods of Carthage for the destruction of the city. Stubborn and tenacious in their work of destruction, they growled and picked, insensible to the blows which fell from above.
The beleaguered people, infuriated by this audacity, scorned the Balearic slingers and archers who from a distance aimed over the merlons, and stepping into the crenels they cast down missiles and stones which, falling vertically, never failed to claim their victims. The Africans tumbled over with broken heads or crushed backs; arms and legs snapped like reeds beneath the weight of the stones, and more than one assailant was pinned to the ground by a dart which passed through his back. Over the palpitating bodies, the mangled flesh, the blood mixed with the clay from the walls, rushed fresh assailants, grasping the pickaxes from the hands of the dying, and taking up the work of destruction, pounding on the wall, beating it furiously as if it were an enemy standing before them. Africans, Celtiberians, Gauls, men of all colors and races crowded together, each cursing in his own language, frothing at the mouth with fury, with death hovering above them every instant, and surrounded by a din of howls and lamentations. Tormented by falling stones and blazing phalarics which set fire to their clothing and clung to their naked flesh, roasting them until they writhed in agony, they rushed to the river like animated torches.