Lucullus

Plutarch

Plutarch. Plutarch's Lives, Vol. II. Perrin, Bernadotte, translator. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press; London: William Heinemann Ltd., 1914.

So he called Taxiles and said, with a laugh, Don’t you see that the invincible Roman hoplites are taking to flight? O King, said Taxiles, I could wish that some marvellous thing might fall to your good fortune; but when these men are merely on a march, they do not put on shining raiment, nor have they their shields polished and their helmets uncovered, as now that they have stripped the leathern coverings from their armour. Nay, this splendour means that they are going to fight, and are now advancing upon their enemies.

While Taxiles was yet speaking, the first eagle came in sight, as Lucullus wheeled towards the river, and the cohorts were seen forming in maniples with a view to crossing. Then at last, as though coming out of a drunken stupor, Tigranes cried out two or three times, Are the men coming against us? And so, with much tumult and confusion, his multitude formed in battle array, the king himself occupying the centre, and assigning the left wing to the king of the Adiabeni, the right to the king of the Medes. In front of this wing also the greater part of the mail-clad horsemen were drawn up.

As Lucullus was about to cross the river, some of his officers advised him to beware of the day, which was one of the unlucky days—the Romans call them black days. For on that day Caepio and his army perished in a battle with the Cimbri.[*](B.C. 105. Cf. Camillus, xix. 7. ) But Lucullus answered with the memorable words: Verily, I will make this day, too, a lucky one for the Romans. Now the day was the sixth of October.

Saying this, and bidding his men be of good courage, he crossed the river, and led the way in person against the enemy. He wore a steel breastplate of glittering scales, and a tasselled cloak, and at once let his sword flash forth from its scabbard, indicating that they must forthwith come to close quarters with men who fought with long range missiles, and eliminate, by the rapidity of their onset, the space in which archery would be effective.

But when he saw that the mail-clad horsemen, on whom the greatest reliance was placed, were stationed at the foot of a considerable hill which was crowned by a broad and level space, and that the approach to this was a matter of only four stadia, and neither rough nor steep, he ordered his Thracian and Gallic horsemen to attack the enemy in the flank, and to parry their long spears with their own short swords.

(Now the sole resource of the mail-clad horsemen is their long spear, and they have none other whatsoever, either in defending themselves or attacking their enemies, owing to the weight and rigidity of their armour; in this they are, as it were, immured.) Then he himself, with two cohorts, hastened eagerly towards the hill, his soldiers following with all their might, because they saw him ahead of them in armour, enduring all the fatigue of a foot-soldier, and pressing his way along. Arrived at the top, and standing in the most conspicuous spot, he cried with a loud voice, The day is ours, the day is ours, my fellow soldiers!

With these words, he led his men against the mail-clad horsemen, ordering them not to hurl their javelins yet, but taking each his own man, to smite the enemy’s legs and thighs, which are the only parts of these mail-clad horsemen left exposed. However, there was no need of this mode of fighting, for the enemy did not await the Romans, but, with loud cries and in most disgraceful flight, they hurled themselves and their horses, with all their weight, upon the ranks of their own infantry, before it had so much as begun to fight, and so all those tens of thousands were defeated without the infliction of a wound or the sight of blood.

But the great slaughter began at once when they fled, or rather tried to fly, for they were prevented from really doing so by the closeness and depth of their own ranks. Tigranes rode away at the very outset with a few attendants, and took to flight. Seeing his son also in the same plight, he took off the diadem from his head and, in tears, gave it to him, bidding him save himself as best he could by another route.