While Caesar's Republic settled down awaiting a call to talk, the battle of wills raged on in Appollonia.

By fall, nothing had been settled and the Senators were feeling the pressure to resolve the issue of leadership quickly. Pompey told them that their chance was now, they must act. So they did just that...

In November, near the end of the current Consuls' year, they named Caius Claudius Marcellus Dictator for six months.

Pompey was flattened. Knowing he was the only man who could possibly achieve victory, he felt cheated of his right. Before the year was out, he sailed for his base in Spain, there to await the begging for help that would no doubt come from the squabbling old men in Greece.

Besides, he thought as he sailed past Sicilia, Parthia would not be able to resist the urge much longer. Yes, Parthia would soon be at the Exiled Republic's heel. Then they would call for him. Pompey felt glee at the prospect of the noble Patricians begging for his help. In the meantime, no more prating Cato, no more placating knights, no more whispers of rustic origins and sidelong glances. Come to think of it, Pompey felt liberated. A province to himself, a few good legions and no stodgy old Romans! What to do, what to do?