The clash was terrifying, even though the motives were different: namely, the Romans threw themselves into battle driven by anger, hope and enthusiasm, whilst the Samnites, most of whom were compelled to face the enemy solely by the force of circumstances and religious duty, sought to defend themselves rather than to fight. Indeed, having been accustomed to defeat for years, they would not even have been able to withstand the Romans’ initial cry and onslaught, had it not been for another, more powerful terror, hidden in their hearts, which prevented them from fleeing: before their eyes was ever present the scene of that secret sacrifice: the armed priests, the corpses of men and animals, the altars drenched in sacred and sacrilegious blood, the hideous imprecation and the infernal curse upon the heads of their families and their descendants. Haunted by these images, they remained rooted to the spot, for they feared their comrades-in-arms more than they feared their enemies.
The Romans began to press forward from both flanks and the centre, slaughtering these enemies, who were paralysed by fear of both gods and men, whilst meeting almost no resistance. They were already close to the Samnites’ standards when, all of a sudden, a cloud of dust appeared, giving the impression of a great army on the march. It was Spurius Naucius, or, as others recount, Octavius Mecius, with his auxiliary cohorts, who were raising a cloud of dust far greater than their numbers would suggest, for the baggage train, riding on mules, was dragging leafy branches behind them. Due to the poor visibility, it seemed as though there were soldiers with weapons and banners at the front, and behind them, where the dust was higher and denser, an entire corps of cavalry bringing up the rear. It was not only the Samnites who were taken in by the deception, but also the Romans; and the consul, for his part, was quick to confirm the mistake, shouting from the front ranks—so that even the enemy could hear him—that Cominium had fallen, and that the victorious Carvilio was coming to their aid, and that they should therefore do everything in their power to secure victory before the other army claimed the honour. Thus he shouted from atop his horse. He then ordered the tribunes and centurions to clear a passage through the ranks for the cavalry. He had, in fact, previously told Trebonius and Caecilius that, when they saw him raise and swing his spear, they were to charge the enemy with all their might. Everything unfolded as planned: the lanes were opened, and the horsemen, as if on wings, swept down upon the enemy with their lances pointed, causing chaos everywhere, whilst Volumnio and Scipio completed the task by slaughtering the fleeing soldiers.
The power of the gods and men that had held the Samnites in check is now waning: the linteate cohorts, whether bound by oath or not, are caught up in the same flight, and have no fear now save that of the enemy before them. The infantrymen who had escaped the battle sought refuge in their quarters or in Aquilonia, whilst the nobles and horsemen set off for Boiano. (See Figure 15).
However, the cavalry pursued the cavalry, and the infantry the infantry, whilst the main body of the army advanced along different routes: some, on the left, towards the encampments; others, on the right, towards the city. Volumnio took control of the encampments slightly before his colleague, because Scipio encountered greater resistance within the city – not because the enemy, though already defeated, possessed greater courage, but because the walls are better at keeping the enemy at bay than the trench. They therefore began to hurl stones from the walls. At that point, the lieutenant, realising that if the operation were not completed before the enemy had recovered from their initial shock, the occupation of the city would subsequently become more difficult and protracted, he asked his soldiers whether they thought it right that, whilst the other wing had already occupied the encampments, they—equally victorious—should be held back outside the city gates. The reply was a resounding and unanimous ’no’. So he was the first to head towards the gate, holding his shield above his head, and all the others followed him. Then, having formed a tortoise formation, they stormed into the city, dispatching the defenders, and occupied the entire area around the gate, without, however, advancing any further, as they were too few in number. (See Figure 16). At first, the consul had not realised how the battle was unfolding, and as the sun was already setting, and the approaching night made everything dangerous and precarious even for the victors, he began to rally the scattered units. However, when he had advanced a little further, he saw the enemy encampments occupied on his right, and on his left he heard the cries of the Romans fighting coming from the city, mingled with those of the enemies in the throes of despair: it was, in fact, the very moment of the clash near the gate. He then rode closer and, when he saw that his soldiers were on the enemy walls and that there was now only one course of action—since the daring of a few had paved the way for a great victory—he sent word for the troops who had been ordered to withdraw to return, and launched an assault on the city. However, they occupied only the district near the gate, and stopped there, for night had almost fallen by then. During the night, the city was abandoned by the Samnites.
In this battle, 2,340 Samnites were killed, 3,870 were taken prisoner, and 97 standards were captured.
It has been handed down that no other captain ever displayed a better disposition during battle, both because such was Papirius’s nature and because he felt confident of victory. It was this excellent quality of his that prevented him from reconsidering his decision to attack in the face of the unfavourable omens; and, at the crucial moment of the battle, when, according to tradition, one is wont to make vows to the immortal gods, he vowed to Jupiter the Victor that, if he were to overcome the enemy forces, before raising a toast to victory, he would offer him a cup of wine mixed with honey. This vow pleased the gods, and they turned the omens in his favour.
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