Romulus was pleased when new training began for all the legionaries, teaching them how to fight alongside their cavalry. Three hundred men from each legion were then picked to remain in battle order each day, their purpose to act as close support for their horsemen whenever a skirmish began. In this way, the probing Pompeian attacks were resisted more easily. On a number of occasions the frustrated Scipio offered battle, but each time Caesar refused it. Although he knew that his general was waiting for the best moment to fight, Romulus began to grow impatient as time dragged by. He lost count of the times both armies faced each other, ready to fight, only to march away a few hours later.

Romulus was pleased that his comrades shared his sentiments. Fully part of his contubernium and century now, he sat around each night gossiping, wondering when the campaign would end. It seemed that everyone wanted the conflict to cease now. For some of the veterans who'd crossed the Rubicon with Caesar, the war had gone on for more than three years, and while he didn't say so, Romulus had been on campaign since he'd left Italy nearly a decade before. A sense of weariness that he'd never acknowledged before was awoken by the conversations about home, family and planting crops. Romulus' loyalty to Caesar was unswerving, but he too began to wish for a quick victory in Africa. Only Hispania would then remain as a potential campaign before they could all be demobilised. Yet Romulus' desire to leave the legions was always underpinned by his doubts as to what he'd do with his life. In some ways, dying in battle would be a simple way out.

It wasn't until Caesar's legions abandoned their attack on Aggar and made a night march to begin the siege of the coastal town of Thapsus that things started to look as if they might change. The fortifications had barely been finished on the first evening when news came of the Pompeian army's arrival. Scipio had come in hot pursuit. The ground around Thapsus was flat, facilitating a hard face-to-face encounter. At first glance, the situation didn't look good. The enemy outnumbered them in all parts of the army: infantry, skirmishers and cavalry; they also retained more than a hundred elephants, while Caesar had none. However, more than half of Caesar's men had fought under him for a decade or more, while the majority of the Pompeians were new recruits. Enemy deserters had also revealed that the elephants had only recently been captured and were thus not hardened in combat.

As well as sitting on the coast, Thapsus was protected by a large salt-water lagoon and an inward-pointing tongue of sea, which meant that it could be attacked in only two places. Shrewd to the last, Caesar had ordered a fort constructed on the route which afforded the best options to attack the town. This left a spit of land a mile and a half wide which ran between the sea and the lagoon as the only way to approach his forces.

As Romulus and his comrades had discovered at dawn, it was an avenue which Scipio had taken. Word had come from the outlying positions that a large army was advancing towards Thapsus in triplex acies formation. The classic three lines of soldiers used by most Roman generals, it had been strengthened by the presence of Numidian cavalry and the feared elephants on both flanks. In a surprise move, though, half the Pompeian army – including most of the Numidians – had been left to cover the second route by the fort. Consequently, Caesar's veterans now almost equalled their opponents. To the understandable delight of his entire army, the wily general did not attempt to avoid battle this time.

Instead his legions had marched out to meet the enemy.

The opportunity was too good to miss. By mid-morning that day, the two forces filled the spit of land entirely. Facing each other from a distance of no more than a quarter of a mile, they eyed each other closely, wondering what would transpire. The Twenty-Eighth, with Romulus in its midst, formed part of Caesar's centre along with two other less experienced legions. His veterans from the campaign in Gaul, including the Fifth and the famous Tenth, were stationed on each wing, supported by hundreds of slingers and archers. Outside these were the horsemen, although the presence of water on both sides meant that any cavalry action would be limited. There simply wasn't enough space for them to manoeuvre.

Another reason to fight today, thought Romulus. Leaving the brunt of the fighting to the legionaries took away the advantage of the enemy's Numidians. Caesar's men were facing a greater number of Pompeian troops, but they were known to be inexperienced. There were about sixty elephants on each flank, and a large number of cavalry. None of this was causing much concern in Caesar's lines either. Five cohorts had been trained how to fight the massive beasts using their pila, and both they and the missile troops were aware of their vulnerable spots. Romulus eyed the eager-faced men around him. In a marked difference from Ruspina, confidence oozed from them. It was even more exaggerated among the veterans on the wings. Already their ranks were swaying backwards and forwards like reeds in the wind. Only the blows and curses of their officers was keeping them in line.

The day was to continue in this bloodthirsty vein. As Caesar prepared to address his men, his officers began beseeching him to allow the attack to start. Atilius and other cohort commanders were no different, breaking ranks to walk by the side of the general's horse and pleading for the honour of charging first. Smiling, Caesar told the senior centurions that the time would be right very soon. He had not anticipated the eagerness of the Ninth and Tenth legions on the right flank. Bullying their trumpeters to sound the advance, they ignored their centurions and pelted forward towards the enemy.

Romulus watched, first in amazement and then with growing impatience. Surely they had to join in? Otherwise the veterans' impetuous action could cost them dearly. His emotions were mirrored by the nearby legionaries. Despite the centurions' liberal use of their vine canes, the entire legion moved forward a good fifty paces towards Caesar.

With Atilius and his companions still by his side, their general took this in.

Pausing, the men of the Twenty-Eighth held their breath.

To Romulus' delight, Caesar shrugged, and then grinned. 'It's as good a time as any. Felicitas!' he shouted, turning his horse's head. Drumming his heels into its sides, he headed straight for the enemy.

Atilius and the other senior centurions looked to their men. 'You heard the general!' bellowed one. 'What are you waiting for?'

Romulus, Sabinus and thousands of others answered with a deafening, incoherent shout. The cry was echoed by the entire army, which broke into a run towards the Pompeians. Soon it was possible to see the still stationary enemy already quailing at the ferocity of their attack. This of course increased the Caesareans' determination, and they crashed into their opponents' lines like Vulcan smiting a piece of metal. First to hit the Pompeians were the Ninth and Tenth, who used their javelins to great effect. Thrown in dense volleys, they caused instant panic among the war elephants, which turned and stampeded back through their own lines. Without pausing, the veterans crashed into the bewildered ranks behind, breaking them apart like so much firewood.

The enemy troops did not know how to react, and the same story was shortly repeated all along the battle front. Spurred on by the success of the Ninth and Tenth legions, every soldier in Caesar's army flung himself at the Pompeians like a man possessed. Unprepared for this fervent zeal, their adversaries simply broke and ran. Dropping their weapons, they turned and fled along the spit. The narrow bridge of land, which had seemed so perfect for an attack, soon became a perfect killing ground. There was no escape to either side, and the Pompeians could not run fast enough to outstrip the enraged Caesarean legionaries. No quarter was spared, and thousands of the enemy died pleading for their lives.