—Caput XXI—
"Napoleon made little effort to conceal his role-model [Caesar] as a lawgiver, civil engineer and nation-builder. 'He reformed the calendar' he wrote of Julius Caesar, 'he worked on the wording of the civil, criminal and penal codes. He set projects to beautify Rome with many fine buildings. He worked on compiling a general map of the Empire and statistics for the provinces; he charged Varro with setting up an extensive public library, he announced the project to drain the Pontine marshes." (1)
"[Napoleon] dictated a 238-page book on Julius Caesar, which had plenty of autobiographical overtones […] He also felt the need to denigrate other great men of the past —except Julius Caesar— presumably in order to build himself up. Thus Gustavus Adolphus made few able maneuvers, Frederick the Great 'did not understand artillery', 'Henry IV never did anything great'… 'St Louis was a simpleton', even Alexander the Great made 'no fine maneuvers worthy of a great general.'" (2)
As Julius had said to Marcus, he left the Legions to spend the winter in Gaul while he hurried back to Narbonensis. A Pro-consul wasn't only a General, he was also in charge of the administration of his provinces, acting in the place of a Consul, and just like a Consul he had absolute authority within the borders of his domains. In theory, he could do whatever he wanted but, more often than not, to indulge in one's pleasures wasn't a good idea. More than one used his time as Pro-consul, or governor, to enrich himself. Gaius Verres was the best example, he was Pro-consul of Sicily and during his term the place looked worse than after the Punic Wars. Verres sacked everything he could from his province and Cicero prosecuted him for this, securing his exile in Massilia.
Julius was no Verres, and he certainly didn't think as that popular saying, that a Pro-consul needed 3 years in a province: one to enrich himself, another to enrich his friends and the third to save money for bribes after his term was over in order to avoid prosecution. But he wasn't doing things for free either. Julius wanted something. Of course he needed money, desperately, but that wasn't all. Money for the sake of money was never his ultimate end.
Camillus traveled with Julius, unable to stop complaining all the way back to civilization (as he so colorfully used to say) about the Gauls, the army, the lack of decent roads, the food, the cold and other things Julius didn't hear, busy as he was reading his correspondence while riding and, at the same time, dictating to Niketas who didn't know how to find a comfortable position on his horse to write as fast as his master demanded.
— Can't you stop working while we travel? —Camillus complained from his comfortable seat in a wagon— You are giving me a headache.
— I'm sorry darling. Would you like us to stop at the nearest town so you can take your beauty bath? —Niketas disguised his laughter with a cough and Camillus watched Julius through narrowed eyes.
— You think you are very funny, don't you?
— You complain a lot, Camus —Julius looked at their surroundings before resting his eyes on him; he smiled adorably, but his best friend wasn't fooled—. We'll stop here to eat and rest —he ordered and Servius nodded.
The escort stopped and Camillus thanked his friend with a nod. They were traveling since very early in the morning and he no longer felt his butt. He had insisted in traveling on his litter, instead on a wagon like sheep, but Julius didn't allow it arguing that it would slow them down. His personal slave, Bacchides, helped Camillus and the poor wagon cracked in relief as soon as he was down. Camillus was truly very tired—. Jules must think he is driving cattle —he approached his friend, arranging his heavy cloak and, as soon as the Pro-consul was done with his orders, they went for a walk to stretch their legs.
It had been a while since the last time they were able to walk like this, outdoors, alone, without hundreds of eyes from people coming and going asking for orders and the fear of an eminent attack. Julius knew this brief moment of peace was an illusion but wanted to enjoy it.
— I think it will snow soon —said Julius, watching the grey sky, like a giant carpet covering everything and filling them with a soothing feeling of majestic magnificence—, the wind is colder now.
— I'm sorry, Jules —Camillus said suddenly, but Julius kept his eyes on the sky, as if nothing could disturb him in that moment.
— About what?
— I couldn't find your spy.
— Don't worry too much —Julius kept walking and, this time, he turned to look at his friend—, you did a great work and now I have an idea of where is my spy.
— Among the Tribunes.
— Among the Tribunes —Julius nodded, kicking a rock—. I'll keep my eyes open.
— All your Tribunes will be staying with you? No one is coming back home fed up of the Gauls?
— For the moment all of them are staying —Julius smiled—. Not everybody is as picky as you.
Silence fell on them until Camillus managed to give form to the question eating his curiosity since days ago.
— Jules.
— Mm?
— What happened with your monkey?
— What do you mean?
— I thought you were going to bring him with us, you know, to spend the cold winter nights cuddling in… Ouch! —but Camillus never finished that thanks to Julius' elbow on his ribs.
— You are such a crybaby —Julius made fun of him, watching his eyes closed in pain—. I didn't hit you that hard, besides you are so fat I never reached your ribs.
— Remind me again why we are friends —Camillus took a deep breath and rubbed his side—. And just for that you are going to tell me why isn't your monkey here as part of our escort.
— Because I have no need of him here.
— What does that even mean?
— It means he is needed with his Cohort, not wasting time at the province —Camillus stopped and took him by the arm.
— Jules, be honest with me, and please speak clearly for once in your life. Do you want him here? And before you answer, I'm not asking if it's correct or anything, I'm asking what you want.
Julius turned away, and once again his eyes rested on the sky. It was so difficult to give form to what laid in his heart, it was… —Scary…
— Yes, Camus. I want him here —Camillus' heart raced—, but that's not the point. I'm a Pro-consul and an Imperator of Rome, I can't do what I want but what I have to.
— I hate when you talk like that —Julius looked at him as if he didn't understand Latin—. I want you to be happy, you deserve it more than anyone I know.
—We can't have everything so we have to choose.
— And you are choosing your duty over love?
— I never said I love him—Julius was almost angry and that told Camillus he had hit a nerve.
— You didn't have to, I know you better than this —Camillus smiled warmly—. I want to think you know what you are doing, besides you are stubborn like a mule, so I won't be saying anything else but… please don't do anything you will regret later —Julius patted his back warmly.
He wasn't sure how to answer that, empty words felt wrong when talking to his best friend, and so he walked with Camillus back to where the slaves had set everything for their lunch. He was grateful with Camillus for worrying about him, knowing his concern was real, but couldn't allow himself such weaknesses as to believe there was something more important than his dignitas, it was impossible for him, it would be like denying his entire existence—. And everything I have built would crumble.
Oo0oO
Julius didn't lose time at Narbonensis, for him it was no holiday but just a different scenario to perform his endless work. An unending line of important people, people who thought were important, and wannabes of important people waited to congratulate him for his successful campaign in Gaul, and another equal long line of people who wanted to ask for something was always outside his door, ready to steal every free moment from him.
Of course, what he had achieved at Gaul was not menial task, he had secured Central Gaul, destroyed and expelled the Helvetii and the Suebi who threatened to invade Rome's allies and had gained the loyalty of the Aedui, which meant that, if he wanted to continue his campaigns in Gaul, he now could advance in any direction he could possibly think of, having such an ally on his side—. I'll have to think carefully what to do next.
Each day his plan to invade Dacia felt more and more distant but Julius hadn't discarded it yet—. If things continue as they are in Gaul, I may be able to turn my attention to the Balkans.
Julius devoted his time to the administration of his province but also to update his information regarding events at Rome, so he sat down that night and read his correspondence, his room so full with lamps that Niketas had feared they would burn down the entire house—. Oh, Lentulus Spinther and Metellus Nepos are consuls now, it doesn't surprise me… There is a proposal to call Cicero back from exile but Clodius used violence to end the meeting before reaching an agreement, interesting. Edepol! Milo tried to prosecute Clodius but Metellus Nepos opposed. Things are becoming interesting and Milo is becoming really powerful among the street rabble, it will be only a matter of time before he and Clodius get to arms.
Julius rubbed his eyes and decided it would be a great moment to take a break, so he looked for a letter from his sister, Julia Minor, or as he fondly called her: Julila. She was just 11 months older than he but Julius always talked of her as if Julila were younger thanks to her easy going and kind nature which often made her look naïve, although Julila was everything but naïve and could be fearsome when she wanted something. Julila's superpower was to embarrass him, you could count on her to screw everything in the worst possible moment, but, all in all, she was his favorite sister.
Julila had married very, very young. Her husband Marcus Atius Balbus was Pompeius' cousin, but couldn't be more different from his famous relative and had not a single martial bone in him. They had 3 daughters, but Julius liked Atia Balba Caesonia the most, even if his niece's second husband, Lucius Marcius Philippus, wasn't much of his liking.
Gaius, you haven't written in a long time, you are so cruel! I know, I know, you are busy winning battles and this and that. Everybody talks about you at Rome. It's amazing! To hear people talking of my baby brother as a great conqueror, like a book hero.
Julius smiled, only his sister could have come up with something like that. He just hoped she hadn't said that in public… An empty hope. He sighed and kept reading.
Mother is really proud of you but, well, you know mother, she doesn't speak much. I have always felt as if she became like a man after father died, you know, turning into this strong, invincible woman.
By the way, your nephew, little Gaius Octavius just turned 6 years old, he is a lovely child! Promise you will visit us when you come back.
Are you eating well? I heard winters at Transalpine Gaul are terrible, please take care, you get sick pretty easily. Remember that time when you caught a cold for spending the entire evening under the rain? Promise you won't be doing something reckless…
Julius cocked his head and delayed watching his sister's handwriting, like that of a little girl—. I should write her more often —he looked for a piece of parchment. It was cheaper and more practical to send letters and messages on wax tablets but Julila deserved the best. Which reminded him he also had to write Julia, his daughter, it had been a while since the last time he received a letter from her but didn't blame her. Julia was almost a teenager and like all teenagers she was too infatuated with Pompeius to remember she had a father. But if she was happy that was all he could ask for.
For an instant Julius toyed with the idea of telling Julila about Marcus but changed his mind, of all people (besides Camillus) Julila was surely to understand, but… He would do it in person, not like this, or his sister would do exactly as Camus and run to him even if that meant crossing wild Gallia Comata on foot and alone. And the Gods knew she was perfectly capable of doing it—. You just give me problems Mark… —he sighed—. Mark…
He finished the letter for his sister and, once again, was left to face that question tormenting him since day one: Should he write to Marcus? He surely wanted to do it but the idea of someone intercepting his letter…— Or someone reading it by accident —was enough to leave him sleepless. He couldn't take that risk and yet, it had been 2 months now and he missed Marcus more than he could have imagined.
I'm a fool and I know I will regret this —Julius took a new parchment. Why parchment? Because he knew Marcus was sentimental enough to want to keep his letter and read it several times. The fool!— So, how to make everybody happy without compromising my identity? —he smiled and began to write.
Oo0oO
— When are you going back to Rome? —Julius asked during dinner but Camillus took his time before answering, chewing a boiled egg. It was one of those strange nights with no other guests to entertain and an excellent opportunity to talk to his best friend about his concerns.
— Why do you ask? Are you tired of me already? —Julius smiled. He wasn't hungry but still forced himself to eat something or risk fainting.
— I need you there. I have the feeling that something is about to happen.
— Something like what?
— I don't know —Julius shook his head—. It's a hunch.
— Fine, I was getting tired of the province anyway. I'll tell Bacchides to prepare everything —Camillus watched him closely, specially the shadows under his eyes—. Did something happen at the province or did you get sick? You have days looking bad.
— Mm? No. Well, I guess you could say something happen. I got word from Labienus.
— And?
— He got word the Belgae are mobilizing.
— The who? —for Camillus all tribes sounded the same and had no idea of what was his friend talking about.
— The Belgae, a large group of tribes living at the north of Gaul. Labienus says they are exchanging hostages, which means they are making alliances, and I suspect they are planning to attack us. They must be nervous after our victories in central Gaul —Julius fell silent for a moment, looking at the piece of cheese between his fingers as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world—. I'll need mules for the army. I got word a muleteer from Picenum is at the city —he ate the cheese.
— And what if Labienus is wrong? He could have misinterpreted the situation.
— No. I also got word from the Senones —he saw Camillus' blank expression and sighed—. The tribes living close to the Belgae, and they assure me their neighbors are planning something —Camillus shook his head.
—Explain me something. I thought you had just helped the Gauls by getting rid of their Ariovistus' problem so, why are these same Gauls nervous after your victories?
— Camus, Gallia Comata is not a great big realm or empire, is a conglomerate of tribes and each tribe is independent from the other. More often than not they make war on each other and don't trust other tribes, that's why when they exchanged hostages is because they are making alliances —Julius answered—. The ones with problems with Ariovistus were the Sequani and the Aedui, tribes of Central Gaul, and last year I had a meeting with all tribes in this area… but the Belgae are something completely different. I have never crossed word with them.
— For what you say, I take it then that Roman presence in Gaul is a problem since you are threatening to become the major power in the region, stealing from the tribes their dreams of power and glory.
— Very good, Camus!
— Don't talk to me as if I were a dog —Julius laughed and Camillus shook his head—. These Gauls are like Roman Senators. They all want to be equal while secretly attempting to become more powerful than the rest, but when one Senator becomes too powerful, the rest works together to bring him down.
— And that is precisely what will bring the end of Rome —Julius spoke with such certainty that Camillus felt goosebumps, it was like hearing the almighty voice of an oracle—. I'll also raise 2 more Legions, I bet you the Belgae are going to be very difficult to defeat.
For an instant Camillus thought he had heard wrong.
— You can't raise 2 more Legions.
— Why not?
— Why…? —Camillus chocked with the question— Jules, you know perfectly well the Senate only agreed to pay 4 Legions, you have 6, which means you must pay the salaries of 10,000 men from your own and very spent pocket, and now you will raise 2 more Legions? You'll be doubling the number of Legions the Senate authorized for you.
— I have 3 provinces under my command: Cisalpine and Transalpine Gaul and Illyricum, I'll manage to pay 4 Legions —Julius answered with all calm.
— And have you thought what kind of message you will be sending Rome with an army of 8 Legions under your special command of 5 years?
— Four, almost a year had passed now.
— I'm dead serious here —Camillus narrowed his eyes.
— Me too —Julius straightened himself—. Camus, I get what you are saying but this is not as terrible as you think. When Pompeius obtained his especial command to end with the pirates his Imperium reached all the sea east of the Pillars of Hercules, all islands, and the coasts of the mainland, including Italy, up to a distance of fifty miles inland (3). He was a King in all but name, and nothing happened.
— Nothing happened? —Camillus' eyes were about to pop out— The entire Senate, me included, opposed this especial command. Piso was so furious he warned Pompeius that, if he continued with his plan in defiance of the Senate's wishes and behaving as a new King Romulus, the fate of King Romulus would follow him (4). You were the only one to speak in favor of him. Do I really have to remind you that?
— What I mean is, despite all warnings and threats, Pompeius got his especial command from the people, not the Senate, and he cleaned our sea from pirates, came back home, and nothing happened —Julius explained as if nothing could disturb him—. And when I come back home, nothing will happen either. I have a plan to deal with public opinion, and you know better than me that if you control the people you can do anything.
— You are talking like Clodius.
— I'm just realistic.
— And what is this fabulous plan to gain people's support?
— I'll send dispatches with information about my campaigns, commentaries —answered Julius—. I'll tell the Romans the best epic story of their lives.
Camillus puffed his cheeks out.
— I'm not so sure about this idea of yours but… —he shook his head— I can't deal with you —he threw his arms in the air—. Do as you please! And I'll go back Rome to convince everybody these Belgae are the ultimate evil and you had no choice but to raise 2 more Legions.
Julius smiled and patted his back.
— You are a true friend.
— Oh, bite me!
Oo0oO
It was almost spring by the time Julius had 2 more Legions armed and ready to march on the Belgae. The arrival of his nephew, his older sister's grandchild, Quintus Pedius, gave him the perfect man to entrust these new Legions. Julius didn't have a close relation with Julia Maior, she was much older than him, almost 10 years, and had a very close and conservative mind, was stubborn and very difficult to please. Still, when Julia Maior had written asking him to take her grandson in the army he couldn't refuse.
— As soon as spring comes you'll take the XIII and XIV Legions north and join Labienus —Julius explained, walking with his nephew to the market, his lictors opening a path for them.
— Yes, uncle —Quintus Pedius was 34 years old, with dark blond hair and brown eyes; he had a cheerful disposition and was ready to impress his uncle and make the most of this opportunity. Julius didn't know him much but didn't like the fact that Pedius appeared to be always smiling, even when he shouldn't, giving the appearance of mocking everything and everyone.
— They are all tironis, keep that in mind, but march them hard and try to turn them into real Miles Gregarius. We don't have much time to train them.
— Yes, uncle. You won't be disappointed.
They reached the market and it wasn't long for them to find Publius Ventidius Bassus, the muleteer from Picenum. Usually, this kind of tasks was taken care by Balbus but Julius felt curious about Ventidius since hearing his story. Ventidius and his mother had been prisoners of Pompeius Strabo, none other than flashy Pompeius' father, during the Social Wars, and had even marched during Strabo's triumph. Fortune had been hard on Ventidius but he managed to build a small fortune for himself selling mules to the army. He was a tall man, although not as tall as Julius, and almost the same age as his nephew, with black hair and black eyes. An aura, that talked about lost greatness and years of hardships surrounded him, and didn't pass unnoticed to Julius, increasing even more his curiosity. There was more than met the eye with this man.
— Publius Ventidius, I heard you are the man to talk if the army is in need of mules.
— You honor me, Pro-consul —Ventidius was as confused as he was surprised with his distinguished guest. Julius gave him that charming smile that so many hearts of ice had melted, and that successfully calmed him down.
— Is there a place we can talk?
— Certainly.
Oo0oO
Marcus looked at the sky.
At last it looked like they would have a little sunshine, he was fed up of the snow, tired of doing nothing, sick of the camp, bored but, above everything else, he missed Julius. He was counting days for the spring to come and see his lover again… even if he was ashamed to say that out loud. From the beginning, he knew those months would be like hell for him, but it had been far worse than that—. I'm helplessly in love with him —his biggest distraction these 3 months, besides his duties, was his new slave, the blond Suebi his men had brought him.
Marcus couldn't understand a word of what he said, but thanks to a Gaul, helping as an interpreter, he knew his name was Rechila, he was 15 or 16 years old, his father had been killed during the battle, he had no idea of what had come of his mother and hated the Romans fervently. The Gaul, a now very famous Aedui named Calder, thanks to his services as procurer, getting anything they needed for a price, advised him to sell the boy.
— Just troubles, friend —had said Calder—, he rip your throat while you sleep. Handsome boy, fetch high price.
Of course, Calder was right but Marcus couldn't sell Rechila. He had been ready to do it, dragging the boy to the praetorium, where the slave traders were gathered and then, he stopped. He watched the large number of captives, heard shouts with prices and angry voices bargaining and then, then for the first time in his life, felt sorry for these people. For all they knew Rechila's family was dead, yes, they had raised in arms against Rome and Marcus felt no remorse for any of the dead corpses left behind but, somehow, felt he had to take care of this silver-hair blond who hated him with all his might.
And as Calder predicted Rechila was just troubles. He was like a wild animal; didn't understand a word of Latin, didn't care to learn, and always tried to escape or to kill Marcus, growling and shouting what Marcus believed were bad words (what else could they be?). Thank Gods Marcus was stronger than him and always managed to control Rechila, and either it was because the boy saw it was pointless to try to escape, came to respect the veteran Pilus Prior or, eventually, as the winter raged and the cold bit their skins Rechila's fire cooled, but one day the boy stopped fighting—. Most probably he realized how stupid it is to escape in winter; we'll see what happen during spring.
Zid, his slave, was still angry with the idea of having Rechila with them, but then again Zid was always angry so it didn't count—. At least the boy agreed to work now —but "work" was an all too generous word to use in this case. Rechila did what he wanted when he wanted, and if that day he was in the mood to help with his new master's arms he would do it but if not… Marcus sighed and watched the sky again coming back to the present—. Just a few weeks now and Jules would be back.
— Pilus Prior Marcus Rufus? —asked a Legionary and Marcus nodded— This is for you —the lad handed him a letter, saluted and left.
Marcus smiled watching the letter and went back inside his quarters. Since they were in winter quarters, castra hiberna, they had built barracks with timber giving them a little comfort for those long months of inactivity. Of course, Marcus had kept his men drilling and as busy as he could to avoid problems, unfortunately not all Centurions thought as he and every now and then a fight arose somewhere. Marcus went inside his room and closed the door, taking special care in not ripping the parchment when opening the letter.
His smile widened when he found Julius' handwriting. This was the fifth letter he got from his complicated lover, the first one had been something funny. Julius had used an alias to sign his letters so, when a Legionary appeared with a letter to him, Marcus was only able to watch the man as if he were crazy. Who would write to him? His mother didn't know how to and, during all his years with Magnus, she had only sent 3 letters to him, one of them to announce his father had died. All his friends were in Magnus' Legions back in Hispania—. And I sincerely doubt Secundus would be writing to me now… —that thought had almost made his heart stop.
His confusion had only grown when he started to read but, little by little, line after line, comprehension hit him and he knew this was Julius. Then he had started to laugh like crazy. And, that day, like other days, Marcus forced himself to read slowly, to savor every word and make this little pleasure last…
Mark,
You'll be happy to learn we'll be seeing each other soon; you are such a crybaby, but in a few weeks you will finally stop missing me and longing and all those corny phrases you love so much.
Are you saying this for me or for you, Jules? —Marcus thought amused. It was true that in all his letters, also signed under an alias, a female alias if you please, he told Julius how he missed him and it was also true that Julius had never gave him any word of affection, but after all this time he had learned to read his lover between lines.
The rumors we were talking about are true and soon there would be trouble, just hope you won't be too rusty after months under the snow.
Marcus smirked. Julius liked to tease him although Marcus was sure he hadn't realized it himself.
Also, hope your cold is better because a sick Centurion is not very useful.
Are you worried about me? —that touched him.
I met a man today, a muleteer from Picenum, I told no-one but this man had something I liked, he knows his business and works hard. This made me think he is wasting his time selling mules, maybe is just my idea but I think he could do much more if someone gave him the opportunity.
My nephew will be joining the army for this new season, he is almost my age which can give you an idea of how old is my older sister. She behaves like my mother, that's why I always got along better with Julila.
We'll have time to talk soon but, for now, I must go.
Marcus raised his head. He had heard from Modius the Belgae were preparing for war and that 2 new Legions were on their way to join them. Julius never mentioned this kind of information in case his letters got intercepted but it was not necessary. The Tenth Legion was spending winter with the Sequani and rumors reached them fast—. The Gauls don't like the idea of having us in their territory. Jules is right, there will be big trouble and 2 more Legions will be more than welcome to teach these Celts a lesson.
Oo0oO
A few weeks later…
Ansgar was angry. He rode like a demon, the sun making his red hair look like fire matching his fury; jaw and fists clenched, and his amber eyes set not in the landscape but in distant place. He didn't understand why his tribe, the Remi, had decided to pledge their alliance to the Romans, going as far as offering their leader hostages among the children of the most important families, not to mention corn, supplies and even sanctuary among their strongholds—. It's preposterous! We are not their subjects.
— Ansgar! You are going too fast; are you planning to kill your horse? —Iccius' voice relented his march and soon the rest of his companions reached him.
— Are you mad? What the fuck are you thinking? —someone among the group asked but Ansgar appeared not to hear.
— Do you still think we should have joined the tribes and attack the Romans? —asked Iccius, riding at his side. The Roman camp was now a tiny point at the distance; they had accomplished their mission, talked to the Roman Pro-consul and now were back to their lands. In Iccius' opinion everything had gone according to the plan but obviously this young man didn't think the same.
— I do. We have no need to join them, least of all to give them information about the tribes —Ansgar answered with all the arrogance he could muster—. And you gave the Romans information of the Bellovaci, the Nervii, the Atrebates, of all of them! You both —his amber eyes settled on Iccius and Andecombogius— betrayed the tribes.
— You'll do as the tribe commands, Ansgar! You are too young and don't know better —answered Andecombogius, infuriating the 22 years old warrior—. We were right in leaving you outside while talking to Caesar —Ansgar stopped his horse and the animal reared.
— If you have problems with me Andecombogius, dismount and fight! We'll see if you feel so superior after you lose a couple of fingers.
— That's enough! —Iccius raised his voice, approaching them— We didn't come to fight just to deliver a message, that's all! —he watched them intently— We have done our duty now let's go back.
Iccius buried his heels in his mount and kept riding, followed by the rest of the group. Andecombogius watched Ansgar one last time, almost like a warning or a threat that the other answered lifting haughtily his chin. That infuriated Andecombogius but he said nothing more and followed Iccius.
Coward! —thought Ansgar scornfully, an arrogant lazy smile on his face. He raised his head and watched the sky— War will be soon upon us —he thought eagerly and then continued his journey.
(1) (2) Andrew Roberts. Napoleon: A Life. Viking, p 284 and 790
(3) Robin Seager. Pompey the Great: A Political Biography. Blackwell Publishing, p 44
(4) The fate of Romulus refers to the story of how Romulus disappeared:
One day, Romulus and all the people went to a plain when a sudden storm arose. The darkness became so great that people fled in terror, leaving the Senators and the King.
When the storm was over Romulus had disappeared and no one could find him. It was said that Romulus was carried up to heaven, but in later times it was believed the Senators, tired of the King's tyranny, murdered him during the storm, cut his body to pieces, and carried it off, hidden under their cloths.