[1] 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,
[2] 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.
[3] 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.
[4] 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,
[5] when suddenly one of the sailors told him that he saw a river-boat rowing out from the shore, and some men in it waving their garments and stretching out their hands towards them. Peticius, accordingly, turned his attention in that direction, and at once recognised Pompey, as he had seen him in his dream; then, smiting his head, he ordered the sailors to bring the little boat alongside, and stretching out his hand, hailed Pompey, already comprehending from his garb the change of fortune which the man had suffered.
[6] Wherefore, without waiting for argument or entreaty, he took Pompey on board, and also all whom Pompey wished to have with him (these were the two Lentuli and Favonius), and set sail; and shortly after, seeing Deiotarus the king hurrying out from shore, they took him on board also. Now, when it was time for supper and the master of the ship had made such provision for them as he could, Favonius, seeing that Pompey, for lack of servants, was beginning to take off his own shoes, ran to him and took off his shoes for him, and helped him to anoint himself.
[7] And from that time on he continued to give Pompey such ministry and service as slaves give their masters, even down to the washing of his feet and the preparation of his meals, so that any one who beheld the courtesy and the unfeigned simplicity of that service might have exclaimed:
1
Ah, yes! to generous souls how noble every task!
Pompey. Plutarch. Bernadotte Perrin (Translator). Cambridge, MA. 1917.
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