hrew them all away. They fled--fled casting behind shields,
helmets, swords, anything that hindered their running. The hills, the
mountain tops, were their only safety. Their centurions and tribunes
were foremost among the fugitives. And from these mountain crests they
were to come down the next morning and surrender themselves prisoners
to the conquerors--petitioners for their lives.

Not all were thus fated. For in the flight from the camp Domitius fell
down from fatigue, and Marcus Antonius, whose hand knew no weariness,
neither his heart remorse or mercy, slew him as a man would slay a
snake. And so perished one of the evil spirits that hounded Pompeius
to his death, the Roman oligarchy to its downfall.

Drusus sought far and wide for Lentulus and Lucius Ahenobarbus. The
consular had fought on the most distant wing, and in the flight he and
his mortal enemy did not meet. Neither did Drusus come upon the
younger son of the slain Domitius. Fortune kept the two asunder. But
slaying enough for one day the young Livian had wrought. He rode with
Caesar through the splendid camp just captured. The flowers had been
twined over the arbours under which the victory was to be celebrated;
the plate was on the tables; choice viands and wines were ready; the
floors of the tents were covered with fresh sods; over the pavilion of
Lentulus Crus was a great shade of ivy. The victors rode out from the
arbours toward the newly taken ramparts. There lay the dead, heaps
upon heaps, the patrician dress proclaiming the proud lineage of the
fallen; Claudii, Fabii, AEmilii, Furii, Cornelii, Sempronii, and a
dozen more great _gentes_ were represented--scions of the most
magnificent oligarchy the world has ever seen. And this was their end!
Caesar passed his hand over his forehead and pressed his fingers upon
his eyes.

"They would have it so," he said, in quiet sadness, to the little knot
of officers around him. "After all that I had done for my country, I,
Caius Caesar, would have been condemned by them like a criminal, if I
had not appealed to my army."

And so ended that day and that battle. On the field and in the camp
lay dead two hundred Caesarians and fifteen thousand Pompeians.
Twenty-four thousand prisoners had been taken, one hundred and eighty
standards, nine eagles. As for the Magnus, he had stripped off his
general's cloak and was riding with might and main for the seacoast,
accompanied by thirty horsemen.

Chapter XXI