Pyrrhus was, of course, excited to the highest pitch of phrensy at hearing what had occurred. He immediately placed himself at the head of a troop of horse, and galloped back to attack the Spartans and avenge the death of his son. He assaulted his enemies, when he reached the ground where they were posted, in the most furious manner, and killed great numbers of them in the conflict that ensued. At one time, he was for a short period in the most imminent danger. A Spartan, named Evalcus, who came up and engaged him hand to hand, aimed a blow at his head, which, although it failed of its intended effect, came down close in front of his body, as he sat upon his horse, and cut off the reins of the bridle. The instant after, Pyrrhus transfixed Evalcus with his spear. Of course, Pyrrhus had now no longer the control of his horse, and he accordingly leaped from him to the ground and fought on foot, while the Spartans gathered around, endeavoring to rescue and protect the body of Evalcus. A furious and most terrible contest ensued, in which many on both sides were slain. At length Pyrrhus made good his retreat from the scene, and the Spartans themselves finally withdrew. Pyrrhus having thus, by way of comfort for his grief, taken the satisfaction of revenge, resumed his march and went to Argos.
Arrived before the city, he found that there was an army opposed to him there, under the command of a general named Antigonus. His army was encamped upon a hill near the city, awaiting his arrival. The mind of Pyrrhus had become so chafed and irritated by the opposition which he had encountered, and the defeats, disappointments, and mortifications which he had endured, that he was full of rage and fury, and seemed to manifest the temper of a wild beast rather than that of a man. He sent a herald to the camp of Antigonus, angrily defying him, and challenging him to come down from his encampment and meet him in single combat on the plain. Antigonus very coolly replied that time was a weapon which he employed in his contests as well as the sword, and that he was not yet ready for a battle; adding, that if Pyrrhus was weary of his life, and very impatient to end it, there were plenty of modes by which he could accomplish his desire.
Pyrrhus remained for some days before the walls of Argos, during which time various negotiations took place between the people of the city and the several parties involved in the quarrel, with a view to an amicable adjustment of the dispute, in order to save the city from the terrors attendant upon a contest for the possession of it between such mighty armies. At length some sort of settlement was made, and both armies agreed to retire. Pyrrhus, however, had no intention of keeping his agreement. Having thrown the people of the city somewhat off their guard by his promise, he took occasion to advance stealthily to one of the gates at dead of night, and there, the gate being opened to him by a confederate within the city, he began to march his soldiers in. The troops were ordered to keep silence, and to step noiselessly, and thus a large body of Gauls gained admission, and posted themselves in the market-place without alarming or awakening the inhabitants. To render this story credible, we must suppose that the sentinels and guards had been previously gained over to Pyrrhus's side.
The foot-soldiers having thus made their entrance into the city, Pyrrhus undertook next to pass some of his elephants in. It was found, however, when they approached the gate, that they could not enter without having the towers first removed from their backs, as the gates were only high enough to admit the animals alone. The soldiers accordingly proceeded to take off the towers, and then the elephants were led in. The towers were then to be replaced. The work of taking down the towers, and then of putting them on again, which all had to be done in the dark, was attended with great difficulty and delay, and so much noise was unavoidably made in the operation, that at length the people in the surrounding houses took the alarm, and in a very short period the whole city was aroused. Eager gatherings were immediately held in all quarters. Pyrrhus pressed forward with all haste into the market-place, and posted himself there, arranging his elephants, his horse, and his foot in the manner best adapted to protect them from any attack that might be made. The people of Argos crowded into the citadel, and sent out immediately to Antigonus to come in to their aid. He at once put his camp in motion, and, advancing toward the walls with the main body, he sent in some powerful detachments of troops to co-operate with the inhabitants of the city. All these scenes occurring in the midst of the darkness of the night, the people having been awakened from their sleep by a sudden alarm, were attended, of course, by a dreadful panic and confusion; and, to complete the complication of horrors, Areus, with the Spartan army under his command, who had followed Pyrrhus in his approach to the city, and had been closely watching his movements ever since he had arrived, now burst in through the gates, and attacked the troops of his hated enemy in the streets, in the market-place, and wherever he could find them, with shouts, outcries, and imprecations, that made the whole city one widespread scene of unutterable confusion and terror.
The general confusion and terror, however, produced by the assaults of the Spartans were the only results that immediately followed them, for the troops soon found that no real progress could be made, and no advantage gained by this nocturnal warfare. The soldiers could not distinguish friends from foes. They could not see or hear their commander, or act with any concert or in any order. They were scattered about, and lost their way in narrow streets, or fell into drains or sewers, and all attempts on the part of the officers to rally them, or to control them in any way, were unavailing. At length, by common consent, all parties desisted from fighting, and awaited-all in an awful condition of uncertainty and suspense-the coming of the dawn.
Pyrrhus, as the objects that were around him were brought gradually into view by the gray light of the morning, was alarmed at seeing that the walls of the citadel were covered with armed men, and at observing various other indications, by which he was warned that there was a very powerful force opposed to him within the city. As the light increased, and brought the boundaries of the market-place where he posted himself into view, and revealed the various images and figures which had been placed there to adorn it, he was struck with consternation at the sight of one of the groups, as the outlines of it slowly made themselves visible. It was a piece of statuary, in bronze, representing a combat between a wolf and a bull. It seems that in former times some oracle or diviner had forewarned him that when he should see a wolf encountering a bull, he might know that the hour of his death was near. Of course, he had supposed that such a spectacle, if it was indeed true that he was ever destined to see it, could only be expected to appear in some secluded forest, or in some wide and unfrequented spot among the mountains. Perhaps, indeed, he had paid very little attention to the prophecy, and never expected that it would be literally realized. When, however, this group in bronze came out to view, it reminded him of the oracle, and the dreadful foreboding which its appearance awakened, connected with the anxiety and alarm naturally inspired by the situation in which he was placed, filled him with consternation. He feared that his hour was come, and his only solicitude now was to make good his retreat as soon as possible from the fatal dangers by which he seemed to be surrounded.
But how to escape was the difficulty. The gate was narrow, the body of troops with him was large, and he knew that in attempting to retire he would be attacked from all the streets in the vicinity, and from the tops of the houses and walls, and that his column would inevitably be thrown into disorder, and would choke up the gateway and render it wholly impassable, through their eagerness to escape and the confusion that would ensue. He accordingly sent out a messenger to his son Helenus, who remained all the time in command of the main body of the army, without the walls, directing him to come forward with all his force, and break down a portion of the wall adjoining the gateway, so as to open a free egress for his troops in their retreat from the city. He remained himself at his position in the market-place until time had elapsed sufficient, as he judged, for Helenus to have received his orders, and to have reached the gate in the execution of them; and then, being by this time hard pressed by his enemies, who began early in the morning to attack him on all quarters, he put his troops in motion, and in the midst of a scene of shouts, uproar, terror, and confusion indescribable, the whole body moved on toward the gate, expecting that, by the time they arrived there, Helenus would have accomplished his work, and that they should find a broad opening made, which would allow of an easy egress. Instead of this, however, they found, before they reached the gate, that the streets before them were entirely blocked up with an immense concourse of soldiers that were pouring tumultuously into the city. It seems that Helenus had, in some way or other, misunderstood the orders, and supposed that he was directed to enter the city himself, to re-enforce his father within the walls. The shock of the encounter produced by these opposing currents redoubled the confusion. Pyrrhus, and the officers with him, shouted out orders to the advancing soldiers of Helenus to fall back; but in the midst of the indescribable din and confusion that prevailed, no vociferation, however loud, could be heard. Nor, if the orders had been heard, could they have been obeyed, for the van of the coming column was urged forward irresistibly by the pressure of those behind, and the panic which by this time prevailed among the troops of Pyrrhus's command made them frantic and furious in their efforts to force their way onward and get out of the city. An awful scene of confusion and destruction ensued. Men pressed and trampled each other to death, and the air was filled with shrieks and cries of pain and terror. The destruction of life was very great, but it was produced almost entirely by the pressure and the confusion-men, horses, and elephants being mingled inextricably together in one vast living mass, which seemed, to those who looked down upon it from above, to be writhing and struggling in the most horrible contortions. There was no fighting, for there was no room for any one to strike a blow. If a man drew his sword or raised his pike, his arms were caught and pinioned immediately by the pressure around him, and he found himself utterly helpless. The injury, therefore, that was done, was the result almost altogether of the pressure and the struggles, and of the trampling of the elephants and the horses upon the men, and of the men upon each other.