Why, by sparing him, should they neglect the
opportunity of avenging their own wrongs, and of earning, as they might
suppose that they would, the lasting gratitude of Caesar? The Roman
garrison had no feeling for their once glorious commander. "In calamity,"
Caesar observes, "friends easily become foes." The guardians of the young
king sent a smooth answer, bidding Pompey welcome. The water being
shallow, they despatched Achillas, a prefect in the king's army, and
Septimius, a Roman officer, whom Pompey personally knew, with a boat to
conduct him on shore. His wife and friends distrusted the tone of the
reception, and begged him to wait till he could land with his own guard.
The presence of Septimius gave Pompey confidence. Weak men, when in
difficulties, fall into a kind of despairing fatalism, as if tired of
contending longer with adverse fortune. Pompey stepped into the boat, and
when out of arrow-shot from the ship was murdered under his wife's eyes.
His head was cut off and carried away. His body was left lying on the
sands. A man who had been once his slave, and had been set free by him,
gathered a few sticks and burnt it there; and thus the last rites were
bestowed upon one whom, a few months before, Caesar himself would have
been content to acknowledge as his superior.
So ended Pompey the Great.
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