Carthage (Extinct city) -- History -- Fiction; Historical fiction
The aqueduct of which he spoke crossed the entire isthmus obliquely,—a
considerable work, afterwards enlarged by the Romans. In spite of her
disdain of other nations, Carthage had awkwardly borrowed this novel
invention from them, just as Rome herself had built Punic galleys; and
five rows of superposed arches, of a dumpy kind of architecture, with
buttresses at their foot and lions’ heads at the top, reached to
the western part of the Acropolis, where they sank beneath the town to
incline what was nearly a river into the cisterns of Megara.
Spendius met Matho here at the hour agreed upon. He fastened a sort of
harpoon to the end of a cord and whirled it rapidly like a sling; the
iron instrument caught fast, and they began to climb up the wall, the
one after the other.
But when they had ascended to the first story the cramp fell back every
time that they threw it, and in order to discover some fissure they had
to walk along the edge of the cornice. At every row of arches they found
that it became narrower. Then the cord relaxed. Several times it nearly
broke.
At last they reached the upper platform. Spendius stooped down from time
to time to feel the stones with his hand.
“Here it is,” he said; “let us begin!” And leaning on the
pick which Matho had brought they succeeded in dislodging one of the
flagstones.
In the distance they perceived a troop of horse-men galloping on horses
without bridles. Their golden bracelets leaped in the vague drapings
of their cloaks. A man could be seen in front crowned with ostrich
feathers, and galloping with a lance in each hand.
“Narr’ Havas!” exclaimed Matho.
“What matter?” returned Spendius, and he leaped into the hole which
they had just made by removing the flagstone.
Matho at his command tried to thrust out one of the blocks. But he could
not move his elbows for want of room.
“We shall return,” said Spendius; “go in front.” Then they
ventured into the channel of water.
It reached to their waists. Soon they staggered, and were obliged to
swim. Their limbs knocked against the walls of the narrow duct. The
water flowed almost immediately beneath the stones above, and their
faces were torn by them. Then the current carried them away. Their
breasts were crushed with air heavier than that of a sepulchre, and
stretching themselves out as much as possible with their heads between
their arms and their legs close together, they passed like arrows into
the darkness, choking, gurgling, and almost dead. Suddenly all became
black before them, and the speed of the waters redoubled. They fell.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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