His vision blurred as his pain writhed inside him. He wore armor no longer, having none that could contain the swelling. It grew daily, pressing up into his lungs until it was hard to breathe. There were times when he would have given anything just to slip into the peaceful dark. He dreamed of an end to the agony and as he patted his horse’s neck he yearned to kick his mount into a last gallop.

“Sir! You can get clear. The coast is only a few miles farther south,” Casitas bellowed, trying to break through the stupor that held his commanding general.

Pompey blinked slowly, then Caesar’s legions seemed to sharpen in his vision and his wits returned. He looked across at the decurion. The man was desperate for Pompey to ride and his eyes pleaded.

“Do what you can,” Pompey said at last and somehow, over the noise of the horses, Casitas heard and nodded in relief. He called quick orders to those around him.

“Fall out, Quintus! Take Lucius and go with the consul. We will hold them as long as we can.”

The named riders pulled out of the formation to Pompey’s side. Pompey looked around him at the men who had come so far from home. The vagueness that had smothered his mind as the sickness worsened seemed to have lifted for a few precious moments.

“I have been well served by you all,” he called to them.

He turned his back and as he rode away he heard the order given to begin the advance that would end in a desperate blow against Caesar’s soldiers.

The sea was not too far away and there would be ships there to take him clear of Roman lands at last. He would lose himself where Rome had no authority and Julius could search for years without finding him.

Pompey patted the leather bag that was strapped to his saddle, taking comfort from the gold within. He would not be poor when he reached the ports of Egypt. They had healers there who would take away the pain at last.

The Tenth and Fourth launched their spears less than thirty feet from the charging line. The heavy shafts destroyed the first horses and hampered those behind as they found the way blocked. The veteran legions moved quickly forward, darting in to gut the milling horses and pull men down from saddles. They had fought cavalry in Gaul and had no fear of the stamping, rearing beasts.

Pompey’s riders did not give their lives easily and Julius was staggered at their recklessness. Even when it was hopeless, they fought on with grim despair. He could hardly believe they were the same soldiers he had seen fleeing the plain of Pharsalus.