Chapter III
Part II
Battle of Neapolis
Hieron found himself face-to-face with a Roman army at morning, just like Pyrrhus had predicted.
His contingent was camped, a few miles east of Neapolis, on a flat plain. On the one side, a deep river made its tranquil road towards the sea, while on the other, a thick, dark forest made itself the home of Hieron's light infantry, his slingers, archers and peltasts crawled in the shadows under the trees, ready to pelt the enemy flank when they came down the centre. Between the forests and the river, there was a long, wide ploughed field, that the autumn rains had turned it to a sea of dark thick mud. It was not rare for him to receive reports of men, horses and equipment trapping themselves in the treacherous terrain.
Hieron's plan went accordingly: While the thick forest and river protected the flanks, the phalanx would defend the centre, denying the Romans their advantage in numbers. His force was five thousand strong, merely a diversion. For what, Pyrrhus did not tell him, It is a much better act if the actor himself has not been told what to do, merely to react, the King had explained.
Hieron was confused, to say the least, nevertheless, he was not one to question the orders of his lord. Pyrrhus had given him his armor, his helmet, and his personal banner, and ordered them to take them as his own. Hieron thought he knew what his King's plan was then.


Gaius, from his vantage point a top a ridge, could see the Greek encampment, before the ploughed, muddy field. Behind him lay the camp of his army, it was well-organized, clear and disciplined, a camp even Fabricius would approve of, he was prickly man, and hard.
His army was forty-five thousand strong, thirty-thousand legionnaires, with fifteen thousand allies, Etruscans and Umbrians chiefly. He would have liked it better if his army was purely Latin, Gaius did not trust his allies, the Samnites had already betrayed them, the Etruscans would too, he knew it.
Sadly his scouts had been harried day and night, last he heard, Pyrrhus' army, arrayed before him, numbered forty-five thousand, it had been twenty-thousand at Heraclea, now it had swelled with the Oscans and Bruttians. That damned fool Barbula, if he had merely posted sentries and scouts, Pyrrhus would still be trapped south of Campania. It was useless, he knew. Cursing Barbula would change nothing, Pyrrhus was here, facing him.
The Roman general thought he knew already how it would go, Pyrrhus would have the Romans charge blindly through the field, slowing them down while his skirmishers and archers slaughtered them in the thousands. He counted on Gaius being a fool, that he would not account for Pyrrhus' cavalry, like Laevinus had.
Gaius was no fool.
At midday, he ordered a war council, and told them his plans. All his officers approved.


Fabricius waited, four miles north of the battle, his men were uneasy about waiting here while Gaius had all the glory. The Dictator of Rome could not care less about glory, if he failed here, Rome would fail with him. Oplax was specially restless, He will do something stupid that he will regret, bitterly.
Yet, Fabricius waited, watching. Pyrrhus' trap, he knew there would be one, could spring at any moment, and he had to be ready for it.

Excerpt from Hephastion of Syrakuse's Great Battles Of Antiquity
The carrion birds circled over the fields of Campania.
Hieron's phalan