Mercenary (Truceless) War Ravages Carthage

Indemnities do not pay themselves. As Carthage reckoned the bills of the First Punic War, the army that had earned those bills asked for its share. When arrears collided with distrust, the hired veterans encamped at Sicca and Tunis mutinied. Towns like Utica and Hippo Regius tested their loyalties. The revolt that followed, from 241 to 237 BCE, was so savage that Polybius named it the “Truceless War” [2]. It was not just a payroll dispute. It was a collapse of order. Gisco, a Carthaginian commander sent to negotiate, was seized and, along with 700 captives, butchered. Polybius’ cool prose turns hot here, recording atrocities that shocked even war-hardened observers [2]. The sound across the Bagradas plain was not the usual creak of oarlocks or market chatter; it was the clash of shield on shield, the crack of executions, the hiss of torches put to storehouses [1], [2]. Into this inferno stepped Hamilcar Barca, a veteran of Sicily, whose iron will and tactical invention gave Carthage a fighting chance. He maneuvered against rebel leaders like Spendius and Matho, isolating pockets of resistance and exploiting the African terrain. At the Macar and near the Bagradas, he practiced encirclement and calculated mercy, separating wavering towns from implacable foes [14], [15]. The geography mattered. From Carthage’s cothon to the olive groves near Oea and Leptis, supply lines and loyalties shifted daily. Hamilcar’s columns marched under a sun like beaten bronze, dust scarlet at their ankles. When diplomacy failed, he fought. And when he fought, he aimed to end the revolt, not feed it—offering terms to those who would return, while crushing commanders who would not [1], [14]. As the revolt waned, Carthage’s leaders saw two truths. First, the state almost died at the hands of men it had hired. Second, the African heartland remained vulnerable to any shock. Iberia, with its silver and soldiers, beckoned as both resource and buffer. The silence after the last rebel garrison fell felt uneasy. The city still owed Rome. Its army had to be rebuilt. Its pride had been singed. The war earned its name because neither side felt bound by ordinary rules. But Hamilcar’s conduct—alternating ferocity with clemency—restored enough stability to plan again. The next plan would bear his family’s name, and it pointed west to Spain [1], [15].