Pompey’s extraordinarii galloped along the edge, riding at the smaller force of cavalry they had come to destroy. Pompey wiped slippery sweat from his eyes and craned to see. As his horsemen began to push back the flank, he found himself shaking. He could not tear his eyes from their progress, knowing the battle depended on it. They hammered into Caesar’s cavalry, shattering their ranks with sheer numbers, so that every one was faced by two or three of Pompey’s riders.

“Break, you bastards. Break! Give him to me,” he shouted into the wind.

Then the Tenth counterattacked. They widened their line to include the cavalry on the wing and Pompey saw them gutting his precious horses and riders as they slowed in the mass. Pompey cried out as he saw them press toward him. He flickered a glance at the centuries guarding his position and was reassured. As well as the best of his guards, he had kept archers back to wreak carnage on any force that threatened him. He was safe enough.

Even the blades of the Tenth could not stop Pompey’s cavalry as they went round them. They were too fast and mobile to be caught for long and Pompey saw the line of battle blister out to the east as Caesar’s riders struggled hopelessly to halt the advance.

Pompey could see Julius on his horse over the heads of thousands. The slight figure was gesturing calmly, sending orders over the field. Pompey looked along his own lines to check that they were holding. He stared back at the cavalry charge and with a rush of joy saw Caesar’s riders break at last, turning their backs on the enemy and galloping away. Pompey’s pain was forgotten as he raised both hands.

Men and horses lay dying on ground made slippery with blood. Pompey saw his officers detach two hundred riders from the farthest edge and send them after the fleeing enemy. He nodded sharply, his face savage. It had happened as he had hoped it would and he thanked the gods. His messengers looked to him for new orders, but there was no need.

The noise was appalling and the dust had risen above the ranks in such heavy clouds that riders and men appeared out of it like shadows. Pompey saw his cavalry break away to re-form and knew once they struck at full gallop, they would carve their way to the very heart of the veterans. Even the Tenth could not hold them while they fought on two sides. The reputation Caesar had built around himself would be destroyed.

Four cohorts of the Tenth turned neatly to face the charge they knew was coming and Pompey swore at the concealing dust. These were the core of Caesar’s legend and he wanted to see them humbled as much as their commander. Julius himself was somewhere in the mass, but it was getting harder and harder to see.