Caius Marius

When the case was pleaded, and it appeared that Fannia had been a dissolute woman, and that her husband had known this and yet had taken her to wife and lived with her a long time, Marius was disgusted with both of them, and decreed that the husband should pay back his wife’s dowry, while at the same time he imposed upon the woman, as a mark of infamy, a fine of four coppers.

However, at the time of which I speak, Fannia did not act like a woman who had been wronged, but when she saw Marius, she put far from her all resentment, cared for him as well as she could, and tried to encourage him. Marius commended her, and said he was of good courage; for an excellent sign had been given him. And this sign was as follows. When, as he was led along, he had come to the house of Fannia the door flew open and an ass ran out, in order to get a drink at a spring that flowed hard by;

with a saucy and exultant look at Marius the animal at first stopped in front of him, and then, giving a magnificent bray, went frisking past him triumphantly. From this Marius drew an omen and concluded that the Deity was indicating a way of escape for him by sea rather than by land; for the ass made no account of its dry fodder, hut turned from that to the water. After explaining this to Fannia, Marius lay down to rest alone, after ordering the door of the apartment to be closed.

Upon deliberation, the magistrates and councillors of Minturnae decided not to delay, but to put Marius to death. No one of the citizens, however, would undertake the task, so a horseman, either a Gaul or a Cimbrian (for the story is told both ways), took a sword and went into to the room where Marius was.

Now, that part of the room where Marius happened to be lying had not a very good light, but was gloomy, and we are told that to the soldier the eyes of Marius seemed to shoot out a strong flame, and that a loud voice issued from the shadows saying: Man, dost thou dare to slay Caius Marius? At once, then, the Barbarian fled from the room, threw his sword down on the ground, and dashed out of doors, with this one cry: I cannot kill Caius Marius.

Consternation reigned, of course, and then came pity, a change of heart, and self-reproach for having come to so unlawful and ungrateful a decision against a man who had been the saviour of Italy, and who ought in all decency to be helped. So, then, the talk ran, let him go where he will as an exile, to suffer elsewhere his allotted fate. And let us pray that the gods may not visit us with their displeasure for casting Marius out of our city in poverty and rags. Moved by such considerations, they rushed into his room in a body, surrounded him, and began to lead him forth to the sea.