Then Tatius bade his men not to refuse "the least part of what they wore on their left arms," and himself taking off his bracelet, threw it to her, together with his shield, which he also bore on his left arm.
His men did as their king had done, so that Tarpeia soon fell to the ground and was killed by the weight of the shields that covered her.
The traitress was buried on the hill which she had betrayed. From that day traitors were punished by being thrown over the steepest rock on the Capitoline hill, which was named after the maiden who betrayed her city, "The Tarpeian Rock."
CHAPTER IX
The Mysterious Gate
T
HE
fortress on the Capitoline hill was now in the hands of the Sabines, but they had still to fight with the Romans who dwelt on the Palatine hill.
Romulus was, indeed, already to be seen leading his men into the valley that lay between the two mountains.
The battle was long and fierce, and disaster well-nigh overtook the Sabines.
In the valley was a swamp, and in this swamp the whole of the enemy's army would have been engulfed, had not Curtius, one of their most gallant soldiers, warned them of danger.
He himself had been carried by his horse into the mire. Nobly he tried to free his steed, but his efforts were all in vain. The more the animal struggled, the deeper it sank into the swamp, until at length Curtius was forced to leave his horse that he might save himself. This swamp was ever after known as the Curtian Lake.
Hour after hour the battle raged, until at last Romulus and his followers were driven backward. In their dismay the Roman army rushed through one of the gates into their city, hastily shutting it behind them, that the foe might not also enter.
But lo! so says the legend, the gate would not remain shut, but opened, as it seemed, of its own accord.
Twice again the terrified Romans tried to close it, and twice it opened as mysteriously as before.
The Sabines reached the gate as it opened for the last time.
In through the open gate pushed the triumphant enemy, when suddenly a great flood of water gushed forth from the temple of the god Janus, which stood near to the gate.
Overwhelmed by the force of the water, the Sabines were swept, not only out of the gate, but far away from the city, and Rome was saved.
But although the Sabines had been forced to flee, they had not been conquered. Again and again they marched against Romulus, for they could not forgive him for the loss of their daughters.
In one of these battles Romulus was wounded by a stone and fell to the ground. His followers, seeing that their king was wounded, lost courage and began to retreat.
But the king was soon on his feet, calling to his men to stand and fight. But it seemed as though they dared not turn to face the foe.
Then, in his great need the king stretched out his hands to heaven and besought Jupiter to come to his aid, promising that he would build a temple to his name, so only he would stay the flight of his army.
Even as he prayed the answer came. No voice from heaven commanded them to stand, yet the Romans were suddenly ashamed of their cowardice and turned once more to face the foe.
But as the battle was about to begin with redoubled fury the Sabine women rushed in between the two armies with loud cries, entreating now their fathers and brothers, now their husbands to end this cruel slaughter.
They even begged that they themselves might be slain, for, "Better it is that we perish," said the women, "than live as widows and orphans."
In their arms the women carried their little sons, and these babes stretched out their tiny arms toward their grandsires, as though they too would beg for peace. The lamentable cries of their daughters, the sight of their little grandchildren made the Sabines hesitate, and soon the warriors in either army let their weapons fall to the ground in mood no longer warlike. "Then fathers and sons-in-law clasped hands in friendship. The old men embraced their daughters, and carried their baby grandsons on their shields. Surely a sweeter way was that to use the shield."
Peace was then made, and the Romans and Sabines agreed to become one, while Romulus and Tatius ruled together over their united people.
Five years later Tatius was killed in a quarrel, and Romulus again ruled alone.
CHAPTER X
The King Disappears
A
S
the years passed, the city of Rome became ever larger and more powerful. The king, too, grew haughty, and as his greatness increased, careless of the welfare of his people. His subjects, who had formerly loved Romulus, now began to hate him, so insolent seemed to them his behaviour.
Dressed in a scarlet robe, the king spent his days lying on a couch, while young lads, called Celeres, waited upon him. This name was bestowed upon them because of the swiftness with which they sped to do the king's behests.
Nor was this all, but when Romulus at times roused himself to walk through the streets of the city, the Celeres went before him, bearing staves. These they used, to thrust aside any of the common people who dared to disturb the king by their presence.
The staves angered the people, but even more did they resent the leather thongs which the Celeres wore, for these were used to bind and take prisoner whoever displeased the king.
After he had reigned forty years a strange thing happened.
Romulus ordered the people to assemble on the Field of Mars, which reached from the city to the river Tiber, for here a festival was to be held. But when the king and his subjects met, a terrible storm arose. Dark and yet darker grew the sky, while fierce gusts of wind, blowing now in one direction, now in another, confused the terrified crowd. Flashes of lightning s gleamed across the faces of the throng, then darkness, more dense, fell across the field, hiding each from the other. Thunder rolled until the earth seemed to shake at the sound.
In terror and distraught with fear, the crowd fled to their homes, lashed by a ceaseless torrent of rain.
And the king? When the storm was over the king was nowhere to be found. He had disappeared, and was seen no more on earth in human form.
"His enemies have slain him," said some among the people. But others thought that the god Mars had carried the king to heaven in a chariot.
Proculus, a friend of Romulus, told the people a story, which made them believe that their king had himself become a god.
One day, as Proculus was walking from Alba to Rome, Romulus stood before him, clad in shining armour.
His friend was afraid when he saw the king, so tall and comely had he become, and he cried: "Why, O King, have you abandoned us, and left the whole city to bereavement and endless sorrow?"
Proculus did not seem to know that Romulus had lost the love of his people many years before.
The figure in shining armour answered his friend in these wise words:
"It pleased the gods, O Proculus, that we, who came from them, should remain so long a time amongst men as we did, and having built a city to be the greatest in the world for empire and glory, should again return to heaven.
"Farewell, and tell the Romans that by the exercise of temperance and fortitude they shall attain the height of human power. We will be to you from henceforth the god Quirinus."
The Romans listened eagerly to Proculus, and when his story ended, they determined to build a temple on the Quirinal hill in honour of their new god.
And each year, on the 17th February, the day that Romulus had been taken from their sight, the Romans held a festival in honour of Quirinus, calling it the Quirinalia.
CHAPTER XI
The Peace-Loving King
A
FTER
the disappearance of Romulus, the Romans and Sabines each wished to appoint a new king.
Romulus had been a Roman, so the Sabines said that now it was but just that a Sabine king should rule.
The dispute between the people lasted for a whole year, and then at length it was determined that the new king should be a Sabine, but that the Romans should be allowed to choose him.
Now among the Sabines dwelt a man named Numa Pompilius. He was honoured by the Romans as well as by his own people, for he was both good and wise. He had indeed been known for his wisdom since he was a boy. And if, when he was young, any one ventured to dispute his wisdom, his friends would point to his grey hair, believing there was no need to speak. For the hair of Numa Pomilius had been grey from the day of his birth, and that surely was a sign from the gods to show that he already was and ever would be wise.
Often he was to be seen, a solitary man, walking in the fields and groves which were consecrated to the gods. At other times he would spend long days and weeks alone in desert places.
It was to this strangely quiet, thoughtful man, who was now about forty years old, that the Romans sent ambassadors to beg him to become their king.
Numa Pompilius had no wish to rule. Moreover, he deemed that the people would desire a more warlike king than he was like to be. So he bade the messengers return to Rome, saying: "I should but be, methinks, a laughing-stock, while I should go about to inculcate the worship of the gods and give lessons in the love of justice and the abhorrence of violence and war to a city whose needs are rather for a captain than for a king."
In spite of these words, the ambassadors still urged Numa to return with them to Rome. "Your presence," said they, "will help to put an end to war and discord."
Then the wise man consulted the gods, and they sent a flight of sacred birds as a sign that he should reign in Rome.
So Numa Pompilius set out with the ambassadors, and when he reached the city he called together the people to ask them if they were willing to obey his commands.
They, greeting him as "a holy king, and one beloved of the gods," promised to obey him in all things. Thus, almost against his will, the wise man became king. But being king, he was not the man to shirk the duties belonging to his royal state.
His first act was to dismiss the band of three hundred Celeres, which had formed the life-guard of Romulus, for this king trusted his subjects, and believed that they would safeguard him from danger.
To train the Romans in the love of truth he built on the Capitol a temple to the goddess Fides, or Faith, bidding them invoke this goddess above all others. At the same time he told them ever to remember as they went about their daily work that their promises were as sacred as their oaths.
In the temple no sacrifice of sheep, oxen, or bird was ever offered, for the good king would not have his gifts to the gods stained with blood. Fruits, cakes, corn, these were the offerings he bade the people bring to the temple.
Pompilius himself had loved to work and to walk in the fields, so now he encouraged the Romans to labour in the country, dividing among them a large part of the land which Romulus had conquered.
In these and other ways the king did all he could to curb the fierce passions of his subjects, who, when left to themselves, were swift to turn to war and bloodshed, rather than to peace.
Many of the people reverenced their peace-loving king, but others mocked at his gentle ways.
Even the feasts of the king were more simple than some of the Romans liked, and these discontented ones grumbled at the plain fare of which they were invited to partake.
One day, so the legend runs, the king ordered, as was his custom, a simple meal to be prepared, and to this meal he invited many of his friends.
They came, for the king had asked them, but, as they expected, the food was plain, the plates were of earthenware, and water was served in bottles of stone.
But no sooner had the guests seated themselves at the table than behold! as if by magic, the plain food was changed into the choicest viands, the water became the richest wine, while the earthenware dishes disappeared, and in their place stood plates of silver and of gold.
The guests were startled, yet it pleased them well that the gods should show such favour to their king, for they never doubted that it was thus the gods treated those who honoured them.
Henceforth the people grumbled less, and were more ready to obey their sovereign.
Numa Pompilius ruled for forty-three years, caring, during his long reign, for the welfare of his people.
Even the enemies of Rome did not venture to disturb this good and gentle king. So, while he ruled, the weapons of war were laid aside. The gates of the temple of Janus, too, which were only opened in time of war, remained closed during the reign of Numa Pompilius.
It seemed that the gods did indeed show goodwill to this pious king, for neither sickness nor famine troubled the country as long as he sat upon the throne, and the Romans prospered in all that they undertook.
When he was eighty years of age Numa Pompilius passed away in a death as peaceful as his life.
The Romans mourned his loss, for he had been to them father as well as king.
Quietly they laid his body to rest, beyond the Tiber, on the hill Janiculum which looks toward the west.
CHAPTER XII
Horatius Slays His Sister
T
ULLUS
H
OSTILIUS
, the king who succeeded Numa Pompilius in 672
B
.
C
.
, loved war as much as Pompilius had loved peace.
He feared lest already the Romans had lost the renown that had been theirs on the battlefield when Romulus was king. So he determined to find a pretext for war as soon as possible, that his soldiers might show that courage was still theirs, and that their fame might spread as of old to the neighbouring tribes.
Such was the warlike character of Tullus Hostilius, that it was soon found necessary to throw wide the gates of the temple Janus.
It chanced that shortly after the new king came to the throne some Roman and Alban countrymen quarrelled, each saying that he had been robbed by the other.