Authors: Virgil
Aeneas meanwhile, arrayed in the arms his mother had given
him, was no less ferocious. He too was sharpening his spirit and
rousing himself to anger, rejoicing that the war was being settled
110 by the treaty he had proposed. He then reassured his allies and
comforted the fears and anxieties of Iulus, telling of the future
that had been decreed, ordering envoys to return a firm answer
to Latinus and lay down the conditions for peace.
The next day had scarcely risen, sprinkling the mountain tops
with brightness. When the horses of the Sun first reared up from
the deep sea and raised their nostrils to breathe out the light,
the Rutulians and Trojans were measuring a field for the duel
under the walls of the great city, setting out braziers between
the two armies and building altars of turf to the gods they shared.
120 Others, wearing sacrificial aprons, their foreheads bound with
holy leaves, brought fire and spring water. The Ausonian legion
advanced, armed with javelins, filling the gateways as they
streamed out of their city in serried ranks. On the other side the
whole Trojan and Etruscan army came at the run in all their
varied armour, drawn up with weapons at the ready as though
it were the bitter business of battle that was calling them out.
There too, in the middle of all these thousands, the leaders
hovered in the pride of purple and gold, Mnestheus of the
line of Assaracus, brave Asilas and Messapus, tamer of horses,
son of Neptune. The signal was given. They all withdrew to
their places, planting their spears in the ground and propping
130 their shields against them. Then in a sudden rush the
mothers, those who could not bear arms and the weak old men
took up their seats on the towers and roofs of the city or stood
high on the gates.
But Juno looked out from the top of what is now the Alban
Mount – in those days it had neither name nor honour nor glory
– and saw the plain, the two armies of Laurentines and Trojans,
and the city of Latinus. Immediately the goddess Juno addressed
140 the goddess who was the sister of Turnus, the ruler of lakes and
roaring rivers, an honour granted by Jupiter the High King of
Heaven as the price of her ravished virginity: ‘Nymph, pride of
all rivers, dearest to our heart, you know how I have favoured
you above all the other women of Italy who have mounted the
ungrateful bed of magnanimous Jupiter, and have gladly set you
in your place in the skies, learn now the grief which is yours,
Juturna, and do not lay the blame on me. As long as Fortune
seemed to permit it, as long as the Fates allowed all to go well
with Latium, I have protected the warrior Turnus and your
walls. But now I see he is confronting a destiny to which he is
150 not equal. The day of the Fates and the violence of his enemy
are upon him. My eyes cannot look at this battle or at this
treaty. If you dare to stand closer and help your brother, go. It
is right and proper. You suffer now. Perhaps a better time will
come.’ She had scarcely spoken when the tears flooded from
Juturna’s eyes, and three times and more she beat her lovely
breasts. ‘This is no time for tears,’ said Juno, daughter of Saturn.
‘Go quickly and if you can find a way, snatch your brother from
death or else stir up war and dash from their hands this treaty
they have drawn up. You dare. I sanction.’ With these words
160 she urged her on, then left her in doubt and confusion and
wounded to the heart.
Meanwhile the kings arrived, Latinus mighty in his four-horse
chariot, with twelve gold rays encircling his shining temples,
proof of his descent from his grandfather the God of the Sun.
Turnus was in his chariot drawn by two white horses, gripping
two broad-bladed spears in his hand. From the other side,
advancing from the camp, came Father Aeneas, the founder of
the Roman race, with his divine armour blazing and his shield
like a star. Beside him were Ascanius, the second hope for the
future greatness of Rome, and a priest arrayed in pure white
170
vestments, driving to the burning altars a yearling ewe as yet
unshorn and the young of a breeding sow. Turning their eyes
towards the rising sun, the leaders stretched out their hands
with offerings of salted meal, marked the peak of their victims’
foreheads with their blades and poured libations on the altars
from their goblets.
Then devout Aeneas drew his sword and prayed: ‘I now call
the Sun to witness, and this land for which I have been able to
endure such toil; I call upon the All-powerful Father of the
Gods, and you his wife, Saturnian Juno – and I pray you,
goddess, from this moment look more kindly on us – and you,
180 glorious Mars, under whose sway all wars are disposed; I call
upon springs and rivers; I call upon all the divinities of high
heaven and all the gods of the blue sea: if victory should chance
to fall to Ausonian Turnus, it is agreed that the defeated withdraw
to the city of Evander. Iulus will leave these lands, and
after this the people of Aeneas will not rise again in war, or
bring their armies here, or disturb this kingdom with the sword.
But if Victory grants the day to us and to our arms – as I believe
she will, and may the gods so rule – I shall not order Italians to
190 obey Trojans, nor do I seek royal power for myself. Both nations
shall move forward into an everlasting treaty, undefeated, and
equal before the law. I shall give the sacraments and the gods.
Latinus, the father of my bride, will have the armies and solemn
authority in the state. For me the Trojans will build the walls of
a city and Lavinia will give it her name.’
So prayed Aeneas, and Latinus followed him, looking up and
stretching his right hand towards the sky: ‘I too swear, Aeneas,
by the same: by earth and sea and stars; by the two children of
Latona and by two-browed Janus; by the divine powers beneath
200 the earth and the holy house of unyielding Dis; and let the Father
himself, who sanctions treaties by the flash of his lightning, hear
these my words. I touch his altar. I call to witness the gods and
the fires that stand between us. The day shall not come when
men of Italy shall violate this treaty or break this peace, whatever
chance will bring. This is my will and no power will set it aside,
not if it dissolve the earth in flood and pour it into the sea, not
if it melt the sky into Tartarus, just as this sceptre’ – at that
moment he was holding his sceptre in his hand – ‘will never
sprout green or cast a shadow from delicate leaves, now that it
has been cut from the base of its trunk in the forest, leaving its
mother tree and losing its limbs and leafy tresses to the steel.
210 What was once a tree, skilled hands have now clad in the beauty
of bronze and given to the fathers of Latium to bear.’ With such
words they sealed the treaty between them in full view of the
leaders of the peoples. Then, taking the duly consecrated victims,
they cut their throats on to the altar fires, and, tearing the
entrails from them while they still lived, they heaped the altars
from laden platters.
But it had long seemed to the Rutulians that this was not an
even contest and their hearts were still more confused and
dismayed when the two men appeared before their eyes and
they saw at close range the difference in their strength. Their
220 fears were increased by the sight of Turnus stepping forward
quietly with downcast eyes to worship at the altar like a suppliant.
His cheeks were like a boy’s and there was a pallor over all
his youthful body. As soon as his sister Juturna saw that such
talk was spreading and that men’s minds were weakening and
wavering, she came into the battle lines in the guise of Camers,
whose family had been great from his earliest ancestors, whose
father had won fame for his courage, and who himself was the
boldest of the bold in the use of arms. Into the middle of the
battle lines she advanced, well knowing what she had to do, and
there with these words she sowed the seeds of many different
230 rumours: ‘Is it not a disgrace, Rutulians, to sacrifice the life of
one man for all of us? Are we not their equals in numbers and
in strength? Look, these few here are all they have, the Trojans,
Arcadians and the army sent by Fate – the Etruscans who hate
Turnus! We are short of enemies, even if only half our number
were to engage them in battle. As things are, the fame of Turnus
will rise to the gods on whose altars he now dedicates himself,
and he will live on the lips of men, but if we lose our native land,
we shall be forced to obey proud masters, who now sit here
idling in our fields!’
By such words she more and more inflamed the minds of the
240 warriors, and murmurs crept through their ranks. Even the
Laurentines had a change of heart, even the Latins, and men
who a moment ago were longing for a rest from fighting and
safety for their people, now wanted their weapons and prayed
that the treaty would come to nothing, pitying Turnus and the
injustice of his fate. At this moment Juturna did even more and
showed a sign high in the sky, the most powerful portent that
ever confused and misled men of Italy. The tawny eagle of
Jupiter was flying in the red sky of morning, putting to clamorous
flight the winged armies of birds along the shore, when he
250 suddenly swooped down to the waves and seized a noble swan
in his pitiless talons. The men of Italy thrilled at the sight, the
birds all shrieked and – a wonder to behold – they wheeled in
their flight, darkening the heavens with their wings, and formed
a cloud to mob their enemy high in the air until, exhausted by
their attacks and the weight of his prey, he gave way, dropping
it out of his talons into the river below and taking flight far
away into the clouds.
The Rutulians greeted the portent with a shout and their
hands were quick to their swords. Tolumnius, the augur, was
260 the first to speak: ‘At last!’ he cried. ‘At last! This is what I have
so often prayed to see. I accept the omen and acknowledge the
gods. It is I who will lead you. Now take up your arms, O my
poor countrymen, into whose hearts the pitiless stranger strikes
the terror of war. You are like the feeble birds and he is attacking
and plundering your shores. He will take to flight and sail far
away over the sea, but you must all be of one mind, mass your
forces into one flock and fight to defend your king whom he has
seized.’ When he had spoken he ran forward and hurled his
cornel-wood spear at the enemy standing opposite. It whirred
through the air and flew unerringly. In that moment a great
shout arose. In that moment all the ranks drawn up in wedge
formation were thrown into disorder, and in the confusion
270 men’s hearts blazed with sudden passion. The spear flew on. By
chance nine splendid brothers had taken their stand opposite
Tolumnius, all of them sons borne by the faithful Tyrrhena to
her Arcadian husband Gylippus. It struck one of these in the
waist where the sewn belt chafed the belly and the buckle bit
the side-straps. He was noble in his looks and in the brilliance
of his armour, and the spear drove through his ribs and stretched
him on the yellow sand. Burning with grief, his brothers, a whole
phalanx of spirited warriors, drew their swords or snatched up
280 their throwing spears and rushed blindly forward. The ranks of
the Laurentines ran to meet them while from the other side the
massed Trojans came flooding up with Etruscans from Agylla
and Arcadians in their brightly coloured armour. One single
passion drove them on – to settle the matter by the sword. They
tore down the altars and a wild storm of missiles filled the whole
sky and fell in a rain of steel. The mixing bowls and braziers
were removed, and now that the treaty had come to nothing
even Latinus took to flight with his rejected gods. Some bridled
the teams of their chariots; some leapt on their horses and stood
at the ready with drawn swords.