Out on the left wing, reaching up on to the foothills, lay the pride of the oligarchs, seven thousand splendid cavalry, the pick and flower of the exiled youth and nobility of Rome, reenforced by the best squadrons of the East.

Here Labienus led.

The Pompeian ranks were in three lines, drawn up ten deep.

Forty-five thousand heavy infantry were they; and the horse and light troops were half as many--Spaniards, Africans, Italian exiles, Greeks, Asiatics--the glory of every warlike, classic race.
Slowly, slowly, the Caesarian legionaries advanced over the plain.
Drusus knew that one of the most crucial hours of his life was before him, yet he was very calm.

He saw some wild roses growing on a bush by the way, and thought how pretty they would look in a wreath on Cornelia's hair.