text: "A lesson to be learned, from gods once spurned, who could naught but watch, as Carthage burned." Phameas found himself saying the words out loud as he stood upon the balcony overlooking the city from the temple of Eshmun; located within the Byrsa. A huge walled citadel that sat upon a hill and afforded a view of the southern part of the city and its expansive dual harbours. He mouthed the words again in silence, as their significance dawned upon him. He had heard them before. The deranged rantings of a vagabond who had managed to infiltrate the palace and cause quite a scene before being hurled out onto the streets once more. For weeks following the lunatic had ranted and raved about the impending doom of Carthage in the marketplace, oft repeating the phrase seemingly without end. Until the citizens tired of his nonsense, and he was summarily expelled from the city. A shiver slithered up the priest’s spine as he realised how prophetic the vagrant’s words had been. It was a sentiment that had disturbed him for some time, only to be reinforced by the arrival of the mysterious stranger who prophesied their doom. And now his fears, and that haunting prediction, had become a reality. He could clearly see the city spread out before him, the terranes of homes and apartments before the citadel, out to the dual harbours along the coast, and out to sea at the vast expanse of ships that lurked upon the water. The flames lit the night like a nocturnal daylight as the fires grew and spread throughout the city, the amber glow of the inferno casting a grisly shadow over the settlement as red, yellow, and orange waves of flame burned with fury and devoured all in their wake. Phameas could not help but weep at the sight before him as he felt the warm caress of the heat, as he watched as fire engulfed the once mighty city of Carthage, and the sound of battle raged throughout the city. The fleet of Roman galleys and warships assaulting the city had deployed hordes of legionaries as they rampaged throughout the city, clashing with the defenders in savage close quarters fighting that thundered through the streets. The clang of metal striking metal reverberated through the night, the chilling song of battle being supported by a cacophony of shouting, screaming, and cries of terror as the citizens of the city fled for their lives in a desperate attempt at survival. Plumes of smoke wafted into the night sky, the smell of burning timber, brick, ash, and bloodshed invading the priest’s nostrils as he stood frozen upon the balcony, watching the slow death of one of the greatest civilisations man had ever known. The decline and fall of Carthage began with the outbreak of a series of wars with Rome. An event that was prophesised by the high priest to spell the ruin of Carthage, as he had seen a vision, a dream of a battle between an eagle and a lion in which the eagle was victorious. Warning that the lack of devotion Carthage had shown to her gods would eventually doom them all. The wars with Rome had raged over the course of a century, first with the war for control of Sicily that saw both nations navies clash in epic battles upon the sea. The result had been a humiliating defeat for Carthage, with Rome taking possession of the island and establishing themselves as a major naval power in the Mediterranean. The second war came when the great Carthaginian general Hannibal crossed the alps and invaded Italy, wreaking havoc upon the Romans on their own soil and slaughtering tens of thousands of Roman soldiers and terrorising the Roman people for a decade. The war spread across the western Mediterranean, spilling over into Sicily, Spain, and Africa itself as the Romans, desperate for revenge invaded and butchered Hannibal’s army at the battle of Zama. The devastating defeat marked the end of Carthage’s vast empire as she surrendered and all her external territories became the property of triumphant Rome. But the Romans, not content in their revenge, came to take their vengeance once more, with the total obliteration of Carthage. Once mighty Carthage, who had her humble beginnings as a Phoenician colony, and could trace her ancestry back to Phoenicia and the ancient Canaanites in the Levant, A history that had begun two thousand years before Phameas had taken his first breath. All of that had been laid waste during the wars with Rome, as Carthage had lost her vast lands and had been reduced to just the capital itself, which was now burning under the assault of the rampaging Roman legions that now ransacked the city. The priest felt a lump rise in his throat as the thought occurred to him that they had brought it upon themselves. The gods of Carthage had been born out of the mystical abyss of the cosmos by the worship of the devout; and had in return blessed the children of Carthage with wealth, power, and abundance as their own power grew. All the wealth, power, land, joy, harvest, abundance, conquests, and trade that the Carthaginians enjoyed came at the grace of their gods. But the people of Carthage fell victim to their own hubris, and in their arrogance gradually turned their backs on the gods that had blessed them with all the fruits their great civilisation enjoyed. As Carthage's wealth and power grew, so too had their arrogance and vanity, until they came to believe, in their folly, that they no longer needed the gods that had given them all that they possessed. Only now as their great city burned and Roman legionaries stormed through the streets slaughtering all who opposed them, did they realise their grievous error. The Carthaginian gods, forsaken by their spoilt and ungrateful children, were either unable, or unwilling to come to their aid when they needed them most. In ages past their worship had enabled the gods to grow mighty in strength and power among the pantheons of gods that inhabited the cosmos. But they had turned away from the gods, believing the deities their worship had birthed asked too much and required excessive devotion, born of a lust for power and an insatiable greed, driven by their own self-interest and indifference to those who had given them life itself. “Oh, what fools we are!” he said to himself, with a sigh of resignation. “It was we who were selfish and greedy! We! Who cast aside our gods, and in our pride and arrogance deified ourselves upon an altar of our own vanity! We! Who thought we could live without the grace of the gods that all other civilisations of man depend upon; and live as demigods in charge of our own destiny and make ourselves masters of heaven and earth!” He sobbed and turned his face to the stars as clouds of black smoke wafted into the sky. “Lo! Lo! Carthage who thought she could rebel against her gods and build a church to her own pride and prestige! Oh, but I must lament that our rebellion was a spectacular failure!” With a cry of anguish did Phameas grasp at his hair as he howled at the stars in anguish, tears flowing freely down his cheeks as he was overcome with grief at the destruction of one of the world's great cities, the death of the mighty Carthaginian empire, and the extinction of the citizens of this once noble, proud, and powerful race. “Baal-Hammon!” he roared; with all the strength his voice could muster. “Please! Oh great and mighty lord! If you care for your insolent and foolish children but at all, please save us from this calamity that has befallen upon once mighty Carthage! Save us from the barbaric legions of Rome who would defile and plunder what was once a shining beacon of the power of the gods of Carthage! A temple to the worship of you and your kin that crossed seas and continents! A garden for the virtuous and beneficent deities of the greatest of all peoples! Made so by the divine blessings of the greatest of all the gods, those of Carthage!” The priest shouted to the sky, imploring the gods to save them in their most desperate hour. Phameas doubted his efforts would convince the gods to assist them, he had been present at, and taken part in, the debates over the will of the gods during this crisis. Some despaired that their failure to properly honour the gods as in times of old had sapped them of their once mighty strength, leaving them too frail and helpless to come to their children’s aid. Only being able to watch and lament as the once mighty civilisation was brought to its knees and delivered the death blow that now engulfed the city. While others, enraged by the notion that the gods were too weak to help them, insisted that the gods had resolved to punish them for their arrogance by letting the legions sack the city and burn it to the ground. It spelled the doom of Carthage and in doing so the gods sealed their own fate. But were they so petty and vengeful that they would embrace their own doom just to punish the children that spurned them? Phameas moaned with despair as his stomach churned with sorrow, and his bones ached as the weight of the world pressed itself down upon his shoulders. "A lesson to be learned, from gods once spurned, who WOULD naught but watch, as Carthage burned,” he declared, watching as the fires that spread throughout the city grew to engulf entire neighbourhoods. The fighting had reached the citadel now. He could hear the defenders of the Byrsa meeting the onslaught of the roman advance as they stood their ground in a noble last stand against the invaders. It wouldn’t be long before they overpowered the defenders and came rampaging through the citadel. Then they would find him. With a deep intake of breath Phameas straightened and steeled himself for what was to come. He would share the fate of his people, the city, and their once great civilisation as Carthage and its people were forever wiped from the face of the earth. He was prepared for that, and he would meet his end as one befitting a Carthaginian, with grace and dignity. With a sigh as he stared up at the moon shining in night sky and said a final prayer to the gods.