There were continually skirmishes about the
fortifications of Pompeius, and Caesar had the advantage in all except
one, in which there was a great rout of his troops and he was in
danger of losing his camp. For when Pompeius made an onset, no one
stood the attack, but the trenches were filled with the dying, and
Caesar's men were falling about their own ramparts and bulwarks, being
driven in disorderly flight. Though Caesar met the fugitives and
endeavoured to turn them, he had no success, and when he laid hold of
the colours, those who were carrying them threw them down, so that the
enemy took two and thirty, and Caesar himself had a narrow escape with
his life. A tall, strong man was running away past by Caesar, who
putting his hand upon him, ordered him to stand and face the enemy;
but the man, who was completely confounded by the danger, raised his
sword to strike him, on which Caesar's shield-bearer struck the man
first and cut off his shoulder. Caesar had so completely given up his
cause as lost, that when Pompeius either through caution or from some
accident did not put the finishing stroke to his great success, but
retreated after shutting up the fugitives within their ramparts, Caesar
said to his friends as he was retiring, To-day the victory would be
with the enemy, if they had a commander who knew how to conquer. Going
into his tent and lying down, Caesar spent that night of all nights in
the greatest agony and perplexity, considering that his generalship
had been bad, in that while a fertile country lay near him and the
rich cities of Macedonia and Thessaly, he had neglected to carry the
war thither, and was now stationed on the sea which the enemy
commanded with his ships, and that he was rather held in siege by want
of supplies than holding the enemy in siege by his arms.
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