At first, Pyrrhus, never the one for defending patiently, tested the Roman resolve by launching a cavalry assault on the left flank with his mounted skirmishers and part of his deadly heavy cavalry.
On the right flank, Tiberius Maxentius shrugged. His able tribunes were clever enough to counter with the triarii under their command. The brave velites stood their ground until they could feel the breath of the mounts of the Greek horsemen on their faces, then quickly retreated behind the spear-wielders. A few of them were killed in the ensuing confusion but the situation quickly stabilized.
Tiberius was not particularly happy, though. His line was held at bay by the skirmishers while the elephants closed fast on the Roman left.
To ensure that his flank did not collapse so soon, the Consul dispatched a rider to the two alae of equites which were waiting on the left, ordering them to drive the mounted skirmishers out of the battlefield.
With this threat removed and the Greek heavy cavalry in flight, the triarii were free to check the advance of the elephants. It was not a rosy prospect but no one turned his back and the veterans all rushed forward to meet with this beastly enemy. Behind them, the velites were reforming a line and threw their missiles with a vengeance on the elephants.
Far from the left flank, one ala managed to catch up with the skirmishers and punched right though the enemy formation. No quarter was given, as the horsemen had seen too many of their fellow riders fell during the lengthy pursuit.
Pyrrhus mistakenly thought that he had inflicted the killing blow to the Roman left flank and his line moved forward, ready to crush the legion for good. Was it too soon? Or too late? Just as the triarii were despairing, the few remaining elephants ran back to the Epirotes, mad with pain. For good measure, the triarii made sure that the fallen monsters were dead. A lot of them suffered from grisly wounds and most had been gutted by the tusks but they went on, grim and determined.
The Consul smiled. Most of the King’s cavalry had been wasted on his first attack and it had failed. Now, the Romans were the one who could flank their adversary and he intended to do precisely just that. Two maniples of triarii surged forward to meet with the remaining cavalry and remove that danger. Behind them, the velites prepared themselves for action against the advancing phalanxes.
The latter met some trouble on the Roman left flank where the velites unleashed their fury and sent thousands of projectiles upon them. When at last the hoplites met with the Roman line, they had been severely weakened and lacked a bit in resolution.
However, it was obvious that the few surviving triarii had no chance against a foe with longer spears and greater numbers. To improve the odds, the velites charged fearlessly into the fray. They knew they faced death and it did not deter them anymore than it had the triarii before them.
Tiberius Maxentius had high hopes for the issue of the fight. His forces were easily winning on the right flank, overpowering cavalry first, then the best of the phalanxes. It was this moment that King Pyrrhus chose to strike. With agonizing speed, he charged the triarii on the left and routed them almost effortlessly. A hastati maniple, which had joined the veterans to relieve the pressure exerted on them soon followed.
Here was the turning point, Maxentius thought as he galloped towards his left flank. If Pyrrhus stopped the chase and trapped the maniples fighting the phalanxes by hitting their backs, the whole Roman line would break. The right flank would be the only one standing and would quickly crumble. He fervently prayed that the Epirote King did not realize his mistake before it was too late.
Fortunately, battlefever had descended upon Pyrrhus. He did not think, he did not stop, such was his joy of defeating his enemy. He was too far from his men when he realized that an ala, a maniple and the Consul himself were on him. This motley fraction of the legion quickly killed him as he was trying to disengage from the velites he had been slaughtering.
Roma had prevailed. The Consul felt overjoyous. The she-wolf had cut the lion’s jugular and it was now just a matter of minutes before the surrounded and outnumbered phalanxes collapsed and routed.
For a passing while, the killing stopped. Tiberius Maxentius was holding tight on the reins of his stallion. The poor beast was exhausted and the consul was quite weary himself. He stroked his neck, then dismounted and patted his nose. The mount nuzzled his hair with delight, his flanks lathered with sweat.
Maxentius was feeling a powerful sense of relief. He had not once feared for his life, neither in battle nor in his everyday life. But he had been frightened that, should he fail, King Pyrrhus would seize the opportunity and march on Roma. Now this concern was far from him. The mighty elephants had all fallen of exhaustion and his legionaries were putting them out of their misery. The Epirote monarch was lying somewhere among the many dead.
Most of all, the victorious general was feeling lucky. The sky was now clouded but he could guess that the city of Taras was near. Behind its walls, another Epirote force was stationed. Maxentius shivered. He had taken the biggest gamble of his life in challenging the King so close to possible reinforcements. But he had banked on the fact that Pyrrhus was as proud as he was good in battle. He had rushed to meet his Roman foe and had unknowingly forfeited his life.
The consul smiled. Despite the losses, it was a good day. He, of all people, had defeated the Hellenic King. Who would have thought it was even likely? He had showed those arrogant, stiff-necked, nose-wrinkling pricks sitting in the Senate! He was of plebeian descent but he had won a battle that the patricians who boasted of their ancestors would not have dreamed of initiating.
He spun on his heel and looked south. Here lay Tarentum. It had to be punished so that everyone in Italy would know that Roma did not tolerate enemy forces just a few hundred miles from her. With so many defenders left, it would be a lengthy siege but, just for the moment, he enjoyed the idea of sitting down for a long time, overseeing the work of the engineers.
And then, his eyes narrowed and he saw madness happening.
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