camp was thrown into utter confusion by a different accident, rendering his soldiers incapable of being brought into action.[1]
His position at Tunes had now become desperate. His Libyan allies had all declared against him, after the recent defeat. He could neither continue to hold Tunes, nor carry away his troops to Sicily; for he had but few vessels, and the Carthaginians were masters at sea. Seeing no resource, he resolved to embark secretly with his younger son Herakleides; abandoning Archagathus and the army to their fate. But Archagathus and the other officers, suspecting his purpose, were thoroughly resolved that the man who had brought them into destruction should not thus slip away and betray them. As Agathokles was on the point of going aboard at night, he found himself watched, arrested, and held prisoner, by the indignant soldiery. The whole town now became a scene of disorder and tumult, aggravated by the rumor that the enemy were marching up to attack them. Amidst the general alarm, the guards who had been set over Agathokles, thinking his services indispensable for defence, brought him out with his fetters still on. When the soldiers saw him in this condition, their sentiment towards him again revert- ed to pity and admiration, notwithstanding his projected desertion; moreover they hoped for his guidance to resist the impending attack. With one voice they called upon the guards to strike off his chains and set him free. Agathokles was again at liberty. But insensible to everything except his own personal safety, he presently stole away, leaped unperceived into a skiff, with a few attendants, but without either of his sons, — and was lucky enough to arrive, in spite of stormy November weather, on the coast of Sicily.[2]
So terrible was the fury of the soldiers, on discovering that Agathokles had accomplished his desertion, that they slew both his sons, Archagathus and Herakleides. No resource was left but to elect new generals, and make the best terms they could
