Ganymede Golden, concubine of Carthage in the Second Punic War

By Cal pflugrath

Of all descriptions concerning Hannibal Barca his Swiss Alps transit stands out. According to legend guiding him was a young female Andorran scout.
Though Ganymede vanished from historical versions due to her maiden status, fables originating in the Pyrenees and southern France remain. This story is a blend of those accounts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781667132174

Book preview

Cal

Chapter one  Cooked alive in that golden belly of Baal

Kid roasters, one of my fellow captives fumed. We’re heading into kid roaster land.

I sighed and reminded, shaking my wooden prisoner yoke, we were taken by Romans. Our new owners are not followers of Baal, the baby burner.

Maybe not, she sneered back, But these beasts are driving us south into Iberian kid cooker land!

I couldn’t disagree. That morning we trudged past a smoking village partially destroyed by Carthaginian cavalry.

To my left, just off this muddy beaten track I stumbled up, a squadron of twenty-five beautiful war horses and three huge elephants grazed. Their attending warriors munched breakfast about some few campfires as they sized us up.

They’re a gruff looking lot, Some north African commander mused looking over me and my twenty fettered slave comrades.

These ones will serve Baal good as any others, our Roman master insisted.  He smoked his pipe beside that Carthaginian captain. A few of the prettier ones may make some nice bed warmer for your riders, Sir.

Smirking at me and pointing my way he added, that one’s a virgin.

Let’s have a look, the officer ordered.

I gulped.

Pulled from a marching line of slaves I stood glaring before them. My handler pulled those outfit shoulder strings and that heavy wool smock fell to bare feet.

Humiliation a normal part of this slave girl routine I turned my head as the naked inspection commenced.  My large breasts and wide areolas received plenty of attention along with trembling loins.

In the last year I developed from daddy’s little girl into a fully filled out young woman.  Waist narrowing, hips widening, now there was no hiding the fact of my arriving maidenhood.

That group of grinning men around me closed in for the kill when some elephant’s shadow shaded us all.

Back off there boys, a child-like voice above that beast laughed.  You must have something better to do than torment a helpless slave girl.

I looked up at some small dark female warrior smiling at us from that towering perch.

Her elephant bellowed in a threatening manner.  Those men slowly stepped away.

Decked out in standard silver and blue Carthaginian cavalry armor she didn’t appear African. Her facial features were European with strange, beautiful almond shaped eyes.

Unless you plan on buying that poor thing and saving her from Baal’s burning belly let the doomed creature pass on in peace, that female commander insisted.

Frowning up at her the officer proclaimed, relax, Captain Dav. I’m just exploring her assets. We wouldn’t want to keep some wench from the God of Carthage’s sizzling embrace.

That beautiful captain looked at me with great curiosity. Sliding down her mount’s side she examined my facial features.

Golden eyes, golden hair and large pale nipples. Glancing at my lightly furred privates she mused, "and the carpet, what little there is of it, matches those drapes.

You are an unusual little Imp. How old, and where do such as yourself call home?

I’ll be sixteen soon. My people hail from Andorra in the Pyrenees Mountains.

How were you taken by Romans?

That supply company I scouted for from the Alps was overrun by bandits. Survivors were sold to Roman slavers.

Are you familiar with the Alps above Italy?

Yes. My Father, Uncle and I have spied for many caravans through the Helvetians and down into Italian lands.

She nodded, interesting. With that Captain Dav guided her great beast away up the road.  Handlers roughly returned me to my garment and southbound formation.

That evening we stumbled exhausted and starving into some Carthaginian town. Instead of our usual evening gruel bowl slavers stopped us before temple gates.

Where’s dinner? a fellow slave moaned.

No sense wasting edibles on the doomed, our master sneered. You are now fodder for the Gods.

Still shackled our robes removed grinning priests gave everyone an extensive inspection. When they discovered my virginity I was moved to the end of that shivering slave line.

Marched through dark passages we emerged into a brightly illuminated audience hall. Clerics strung all twenty of us up by our wrists and that ritual began.

Some gathering of a few thousand souls surrounded us and Baal’s huge golden statue. Fumes rose from their idol’s glowing bowels.

My first look at that Carthaginian death God the terrible thing appeared as a strange frog-like creature with huge bulging eyes. A wide drooling teeth-filled mouth leered.

Below a swollen belly some opening large enough to slide a person down met my gaze. Vapors and the smell of burning flesh and hair emanated from there.

Before that sinister opening lay a mounting block. At its’ corners, a victim’s wrists and ankles could be restrained.

As the lead priest directed followers through prayers the first of my group was drug struggling and pleading to that restraining platform.

Once bound down the naked young man would be set upon by a quartet of grinning female torturers. Laughing women whipped, clamped, and struck their begging victim.

They poked and joked, working him over while sexually stimulating their hapless prey. Quickly aroused his stimulation became apparent in that rapidly rising member.

Battle lance stiff that groaning young man spewed all over his belly and chest. Laughing girls unshackled him, lifted that ramp, and the screaming fellow tumbled into Baal’s blazing belly.

The crowd cheered. That man’s muffled shrieks rose up from below gradually diminishing to crying, choking, and silence.

The scent of additional roasted flesh wafted up. I sighed and prepared for my turn with that flaming God.

One by one grinning priests drug reluctant victims to the mounting block. After similar erotic assaults and stimulation each of my fellow slaves met their eventual humiliating demise.

Screaming they slid into some flaming pit below the leering God.

That next to the last naked girl bellowing her final gasps below, clergymen came for me. Realizing what was coming I said goodbye to this life and all those things in it worth remembering.

A sudden loud disturbance in the hall behind caused those priests to stop. Stepping between Baal and my escorts stood some Carthaginian general, a smirking Captain Dav beside him.

Smiling at me he said, my squadron commander insists you are familiar with the mountains of Helvetica and those approaches towards Rome. Is this so?

Yes, I gulped, nodding. I am aware of several routes through the mountain passes. Any of them might deliver you and your company before the Eternal City’s great gates.

The general measured me with an intense glare. My mind realized that edge of a blazing knife my fate dangled above. Perhaps Baal would not consume me after all.

Turning to the lead priest he insisted, She’s with me. I just drafted her into Carthage’s army.

You can’t! that disgruntled clergy rebuffed. This slave has been chosen by Baal and must serve him below.

Get another volunteer. You’ve got a good-sized audience. Pick some girl from there.  I’m certain a true follower of Baal would be an honored sacrifice.

But she’s a virgin. I need an untouched female to conclude our ritual. Nothing else shall please.

Good luck, Sir. You better close those back doors before every female in the crowd bolts. This one’s going with me.

Captain Dav untied my wrists as that general wrapped his long sky-blue cloak about quivering shoulders.

As we departed the temple arena some unlucky girl was drug screaming from that mocking audience she had previously stood among and cheered.

Now Baal’s followers laughed at that crying young woman chanting, Baal! Baal! Baal!

Priests stripped her bound for the torture block. Though feeling sorry for my replacement I sighed in relief.

‘Sorry, honey,’ I considered.  ‘At least tonight those fiends won’t be cooking me’.

Outside darkness had fallen. Stepping into an elaborate covered carriage surrounded by some cavalry company we rolled off north.

Seated next to me Captain Dav smiled and asked, what do folks in Andorra call you?

Sighing I answered, Ganymede Golden of Bratif Mastif. What is your name, Miss?

I’m Cavalry Captain Savela Dav. If that name seems strange to your ear it is because I come from a place far away in the distant east. Welcome to Hannibal’s army.

Looking at that general seated across from me I enquired, and you, Sir. How should I address my savior?

He grinned. Please call me Hannibal.

Chapter two  the letter home

We rode some short distance towards camp. In that carriage Savela produced an outfit of light silver and blue armor plus under gear not unlike hers.

Put this on, the captain insisted. You look about my size.

Handing Hannibal back his beautiful cloak I dressed. Cotton undergarments were covered in a leather tunic and blue skirt.  Feet slid into comfortable leather sandals.

Over undershirt came a bronze breastplate with golden and blue feathered helmet. My final military elements included a spear, short bronze sword, knife, and bow with two dozen arrows in a leather quiver.

While we traveled quickly along and I dressed General Hannibal questioned me.

What’s our best way over the Alps?

"That depends on your goals. Along some coast road is the easiest path but that way shall be filled with Roman formations.

I assume you wish to avoid them and enter northern provinces unmolested.

The general nodded. That’s the plan. I never traveled this route before but you have. What do you suggest?

Blue skirt and breastplate in place I replied while tightening a waist weapons belt.  "There are three major passes and another dozen sub peak routes that can drop us off at several locations.

Some are nearer to Roman military bases than others. Depending upon the size of your formation you may be better off avoiding these well supplied fortresses.

As I adjusted light upper body armor with an assist from Captain Dav Hannibal asked, How will the native mountain Celts and Helvetian clans react to our transit?

"They are of mixed dispositions with numerous local and regional alliances. Most are unfriendly towards Rome but not all.

Others remain neutral but might be persuaded to assist if offered the proper encouragement.

So my spies assure me. Good job, Golden. You have passed muster. I assume you can ride a horse?

I nodded.

Turning to the captain he ordered, "Ganymede will command the lead scout battalion, Savela.

See to her combat training. Though we are some time and distance from conflict focus there concerning her education. I’m riding on ahead to our main camp for the night.

The captain bowed and Hannibal looked back at me. You will serve among Captain Dav’s vanguard scout formation for the time being as a Lieutenant. Do you have any questions?

Strapping on my gold and blue feathered helmet I asked, What’s my status, Sir? Do I remain a slave?

He grinned. "No, Ganymede. Your’ position is that of a free Carthaginian woman assigned as some courtesan to my army in the field. Savela will fill you in on the details.

I’m certain some meal would be pleasing. The Captain should be able to remedy that. Welcome to my inner circle.  Together may we tip the balance of power in Carthage’s favor.

With that the General stepped off our still moving transport and called for his mount.

As he galloped away Captain Dav pulled out some warm box holding half a cooked chicken with slices of fresh bread. Added to that would be some bag of mixed fruit. Dig in, she encouraged.

I didn’t need any prompting. This made up my first real meal in more than a month.

As I wolfed down chicken