In the days leading up to the Battle of Pharsalus, Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus – Pompey the Great – was in a difficult situation. On the face of it everything was good; he had a larger army than Ceasar, he had a better supply situation, and his fleets controlled the sea, ensuring Caesar could receive no help, nor retire to Italy. But he was cautious – his troops included many foreign allies of uncertain value and perhaps equally uncertain loyalty, and any battle carried an element of risk, whereas the strategy of harassing Caesar and reducing his army by attrition was working well. However, Pompey was just the chosen commander of the Republican forces, and had a large group of senators and others in tow, all of whom were eager to finally destroy the rebellious Caesar and get back to Rome, where they could benefit politically and financially from a purge of Caesar’s supporters. The chronicles tell us that Pompey was constantly urged to strike the decisive blow against Caesar, and when he finally accepted Caesar’s invitation to battle, it was perhaps with some reluctance. If that is true, then that pressure from the elites of the republic would turn out to be disastrous. Pompey was defeated and forced to flee, and Caesar had the decisive victory which would, in time, give him complete mastery of Rome and her territories.

The subtitle of this set, ‘Senators advise Pompey in his field camp before Pharsalus’, leaves us in no doubt as to what scene is being depicted here. Pompey sits on a chair listening to a couple of senators while a scribe works at the table and a servant serves some drinks. Everything about the scene seems perfectly plausible, and while the lack of any other senior officer is strange as the set title refers to ‘general staff’, the servants make sense as they would have been in attendance almost all the time. So the composition is fine if not quite what the set name promises, but are there any reasons to doubt the scene as presented here?

To begin with, Pompey himself is a splendid figure. He sits on the chair with one arm resting on its back and the other holding the arm, so fairly relaxed and apparently listening to what is being said to him. He wears typical armour for a senior commander – a muscle cuirass with shoulder pieces in the Greek style, and pteruges at his shoulders and waist. Pompey was almost 58 years old at this time, and it must be said the likeness on this small model is exceptional – it perfectly matches those images we have of him in later life. The scribe sits on a stool and wears the normal tunic with a belt. He holds a calamus (pen) and seems to be writing on a parchment spread out on the table, with scrolls laying to left and right. The standing servant is dressed in the same way, and holds a tray on which is a cup and a very small jug for some reason. So far, so good.

There is, however, a problem with the senators. In films and children’s books Roman senators are invariably dressed in a toga – it is practically the badge of office – but this is not the reality. The toga is a very difficult garment to put on, and to keep in good shape, so is a very annoying and impractical item of clothing. As a result, it was unpopular, even amongst the elites who were expected to wear it, and was very much something to be worn only when it had to be, such as on formal occasions and for meetings of the senate. When discussing military tactics with your commander in a field hundreds of miles from Rome and not even in sight of the ordinary people, there is no way any senator, or anyone else, would have gone to the trouble of donning a toga. This is a cliché often seen in fiction, but impossible to believe in this particular situation. The fact that one of them is holding a drawn sword also seems to be quite remarkable, and while he is doubtless only making a point (no one can fight while wearing a toga), this too seems pretty unlikely to us.

The quality of production in this set is exemplary, as usual. All the figures are beautifully realised, very natural in anatomy and posture, and with lovely faces and folds in the clothing. The two sitting figures fit their seat perfectly, and while Pompey in his chair can be made to sit up against the table, the scribe on his stool, which is clearly intended for the table, sits at it perfectly, resting his arms on the top as he writes. As these are 3D printed, there is no loss of detail despite the complex and intricate poses, so for example the items on the drinks tray are perfectly formed, and everything comes complete without assembly – even the scribe with his arms out to the front. There is no flash of course, so perfect in every respect.

The tables and chairs are also really well done and look totally authentic. Despite each being just one piece, the legs etc are beautifully slender, and all look great.

The senators are very much the weak point in this set. Not only is their dress wrong, we also wondered why both hold a scroll in their left hand. When wearing the toga, the left arm is mostly required to keep the whole thing from slipping, and is good for little else as a result, so while they could of course be holding something in this hand, we felt these scrolls were an unnecessary extra detail. So, our advice is to separate the senators and use them in the senate house back in Rome, and leave just Pompey and his servants to contemplate the coming battle. Thus parted into two separate situations these figures make perfect sense and are beautiful models individually. In depicting the advertised scene they are much less than ideal (particularly as there are absolutely no ‘general staff’ here), hence the loss of accuracy points, but luckily by ignoring this identification you can make good use of these lovely figures.