Pompey

But Pompey, when he had gone a little distance from the camp, gave his horse the rein, and with only a few followers, since no one pursued him, went quietly away, indulging in such reflections as a man would naturally make who for four and thirty years had been accustomed to conquer and get the mastery in everything, and who now for the first time, in his old age, got experience of defeat and flight; he thought how in a single hour he had lost the power and glory gained in so many wars and conflicts,

he who a little while ago was guarded by such an array of infantry and horse, but was now going away so insignificant and humbled as to escape the notice of the enemies who were in search of him. After passing by Larissa, he came to the Vale of Tempe, and there, being thirsty, he threw himself down on his face and drank of the river; then, rising up again, he went on his way through Tempe, and at last came down to the sea.

There he rested for the remainder of the night in a fisherman’s hut. At early dawn he went aboard a river-boat, taking with him such of his followers as were freemen, but bidding his servants to go back to Caesar and to have no fear. Then he coasted along until he saw a merchant-ship of goodly size about to put to sea, the master of which was a Roman who, though not intimately acquainted with Pompey, nevertheless knew him by sight; his name was Peticius.

This man, as it happened, had dreamed the night before that Pompey, not as he had often seen him, but humble and downcast, was addressing him. He was just telling this dream to his shipmates, as men who are at leisure are wont to make much of such matters,