  Never in his life had Romulus felt in his own soul the strength of kinship as he felt it after the colonists agreed to join their forces with his. He had made his men into a fighting force when courage was almost the only virtue they had, but there was no natural comradeship between them as a whole. Here were men of his own people, welded together by all the ties of a boyhood and manhood spent together in one place, and they were ready to stand by him to the death. It seemed to give him a strength more than human. Remus was his brother, but he too was different and did not understand. He was no dreamer; he would have been content to go on all his life a shepherd boy or a soldier. But these men understood; they looked down the road of the years to come and planned for their children and grandchildren. That was why they were willing to let their sons go to fight against the tyrant Amulius under a stranger and a cap[pg 131] There were anxious days in the settlement by the yellow river, after the young men marched away. Even if Romulus won the victory, perhaps there would be some who would not come back. And if he failed, the first the colonists would know of it would be an army coming to kill or enslave them all. Not quite a month after the departure of the little fighting force the watchmen on the wall saw far away on the plain a single running figure. At first they could not be sure who it was. The word flew about the colony and soon the people were gathered wherever they could get a view of the running man. It was toward evening; the long shadows stretched over the level ground, and the red sunset made the still waters look like pools of blood. Everything was very quiet. They could hear the croak and pipe of the frogs, far below at the foot of the hill. On and on came the racing figure, and now he had caught sight of the people on the hill, for he lifted his arm and waved to them again and again. It was good tidings; that was the meaning of his gesture in their signal language. Many hastened to meet him, but the path down [pg 132] Illustration: “Victory! Vic-to-ry! Romulus forever!” “Ai-ya! Victory! Vic-to-ry! Romulus forever!” His mother began to cry for joy and pride. The other women did not dare to yet. They did not allow themselves to be really glad until the small boys came scampering in ahead of their elders, to be the first to tell. Amulius was dead [pg 133] Caius Cossus lived to be very old, and his long life brought him much honor and happiness, but never again, so long as he lived, did he have so glad a triumph as when he came in at the gate of the little, rude town by the river, and told the story of the fight at Alba Longa to the fathers and mothers who had the best right to be proud of it. It was the first battle the young men of the colony had ever been in, and a great deal would have depended on it in any case. They were strangers, with their reputation for courage and coolness all to make. When the young messenger had had a chance to get his breath and some food and drink—and the best in the place was none too good for him—he told the story of the campaign from the beginning. Romulus had separated his force into three companies and sent them toward Alba Longa by three roads and in small groups, not to attract attention, until they were within a few hours’ [pg 134] Some of the country people were there to serve as guides. There was a way around the city to the back, where the wall was not so high, and Remus and his party would go first and come around that way. The colonists were to swing to the left, where a road branched off, and come up toward the gate where the barracks were. Romulus himself with his own men would attack the main gate just after dawn and push his way [pg 135] It all went as it was planned. The headlong rush of the young chief and his men, who were as active and sinewy as cats, took them through the main gate and over the walls almost at the same moment. They had brought slim tree trunks with the nubs of the branches left on, for ladders, and rawhide ropes on which they could swarm up over the walls in half a dozen places at a time. The soldiers were completely taken by surprise, and many surrendered at once. The invaders were in the public square and pushing into the palace of the chief almost before the bewildered and terrified people found out what had happened. Romulus himself was the first to enter the private rooms of Amulius, and there he found the old chief dying from a spear wound in the breast. The captain of his guard had killed him and then offered his sword to Romulus in the hope of being the first to gain favor. [pg 136]“A man who is false to one master will be false to two,” said Romulus, with a flash like lightning in his dark eyes. He ordered the captain bound and turned over to his grandfather, when he should arrive, for judgment. This was not the sort of timber he wanted for an army. If the captain had surrendered, it would have been very well, but to kill his master in his room, unarmed, for a reward, was black treachery, and it was not the young chieftain’s plan to encourage either traitors or cowards. From the steps of the palace he sent the triple drum roll sounding through the gray light of a rainy morning, and heard it answered by the battle shout of the young men of the colony, as they came charging into the gate, and by the shrill piercing music of the pipes from the company Remus led. The three companies met in the square, keeping order and rank as if it were a game, and as they saw their leader standing in the doorway in the red flame of the torches, they shouted the triple shout of victory. Standing there in his armor, above the savage confusion, the white faces of the people uplifted to him from the crowded streets, he looked every inch a chieftain. He beckoned his brother to his side, and lifted his sword, and all was still. “Ye who know what Amulius did in the days [pg 137] “Ye who know that he killed his own sons for fear they should grow up and rebel against him, fear him no more, for he is dead. “Ye who have been bowed down with the burden of his cruelty and his greed, rise up and stand straight like men, for he is dead. “Ye, the gods of his fathers and mine, who know what he was in his lifetime, I call on ye to judge whether his slayer did well to kill him, for he is dead. “Ye, the people of the Long White Mountain, who have heard the name of Romulus and the name of Remus, know now that we are the children whom he would have slain after he had killed our father and our mother, and that we were saved by a wolf of Mars to live and rule our own people now that Amulius is dead. “Ye, the people of Alba Longa, of the ancient home of our race, take Numa for your chief now, and be loyal to him and serve him, for he who took the right from him is dead!” There was an instant’s pause, and then shouts of “Numa! Numa!” broke from the people. If Romulus had claimed the place for himself they would have shouted his name just as readily, but this was not Romulus’ plan at all. The [pg 138] This did away with the last bit of resistance. The remainder of the army was only too glad to surrender, and messengers were sent off to tell Numa the good news and bring him home in triumph to his own place. When they had welcomed him, they would come to the hill beside the river and found their own city. It was a day long to be remembered when the Romans returned, the young men marching lightly with laughter and singing, their young leaders in the van. The people went out to meet them with music and rejoicing, and there was a great feast in the colony. But to Colonus the most precious moment of that day—not even excepting the first sight of his own son Marcus—was that in which the young and victorious Romulus came to him where he stood with Tullius the priest, and knelt before them, saying, “Tell me that I have done well, my fathers, [pg 139] Illustration: Then they blessed him and crowned him with the victor’s crown of laurel Then they blessed him and crowned him with the victor’s crown of laurel. The outlaw had found his own people. |
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