The original plan for a fast destruction and withdrawal lay in ruins. He could not withdraw and leave the cohorts with Domitius to be slaughtered. Though surprise had been lost, Julius knew if he could hold for long enough, Domitius would send a shiver through the defenders and he could still salvage the attack. He needed to push the enemy back just to give the Third space to retreat, but there was no weakness in the lines. Julius had to watch as his men were hammered from their feet and more and more of the enemy charged in to add their strength. It was carnage.

Three ranks of men separated him from the killing and Julius could see his soldiers glance back at him as more and more were slain, willing him to call a retreat. The ground was covered with his black-faced soldiers and in the cold their wounds steamed visibly as blood pumped into the soil.

Julius waited, growing desperate. Domitius had to come soon or he would lose everything.

“Archers! Signal again!” he bellowed, though many of them were dead.

His men held firm as they heard, standing toe-to-toe with the enemy. Without shields, they were terribly vulnerable and Pompey’s men used the advantage, ramming their own shields into faces, or down to break the small bones of sandaled feet. Julius winced at the screaming, and even as the flaming arrows soared over their heads once more, he felt something shift in his men. He could not see the start of it, but where they had been holding, suddenly they were turning to run.

Julius stood in stunned disbelief as men he had trained began to pelt past him. He heard his centurions snap furious orders, but the effect whiplashed through the Third and terror broke them apart.

In the distance, Julius heard the rumble of cavalry and his heart sank. Pompey was coming and his men were routed. He saw the standard-bearer of the Third come racing past him and Julius ripped the flag from his grasp.

“Third to me!” he roared, brandishing the pole in great sweeps.

The crowd of rushing men did not pause in their flight as they went around him. He saw a great dark mass of riders and realized he would die when they charged. In the churning chaos of the rout, Julius felt an eerie calm settle on him. He could not rally the Third and soon he would be left alone. His arms ached and he wondered how Brutus would take the news when he heard. He had a sea of regrets and he felt the ground shake as thousands of Pompey’s extraordinarii galloped in from the dark.