Ab urbe condita

Matters were ripe, still the consuls hung back. At last Cn. Manlius, fearing lest the increasing disturbance might lead to open mutiny, gave way, and Fabius, after ordering the trumpets to command silence, addressed his colleague thus: “I know, Cn. Manlius, that these men can conquer; it is their own fault that I did not know whether they wished to do so.

It has, therefore, been resolved and determined not to give the signal for battle unless they swear that they will come out of this battle victorious. A Roman consul was once deceived by his soldiers, they cannot deceive the gods.”

Amongst the centurions of the first rank who had demanded to be led to battle was M. Flavoleius. “M. Fabius,” he said, “I will come back from the battle victorious.” He invoked the wrath of Father Jupiter and Mars Gradivus and other deities if he broke his oath. The whole army took the oath, man by man, after him.

When they had sworn, the signal was given, they seized their weapons, and went into action, furious with rage and confident of victory. They told the Etruscans to continue their insults, and begged the enemy so ready with the tongue to stand up to them now they were armed.

All, patricians and plebeians alike, showed conspicuous courage on that day, the Fabian house especially covered itself with glory. They determined in that battle to win back the affection of the plebs, which had been alienated through many political contests.

The battle-line was formed; neither the Veientines nor the legions of Etruria declined the contest. They were almost certain that the Romans would no more fight with them than they fought with the Aequi, and they did not despair of something still more serious happening, considering the state of irritation they were in and the double opportunity which now presented itself.[*](double opportunity —First murdering the consul and then going over to the enemy.)

Things took a very different course, for in no previous war had the Romans gone into action with more grim determination, so exasperated were they by the insults of the enemy and the procrastination of the

consuls. The Etruscans had scarcely time to form their ranks when, after the javelins had in the first confusion been flung at random rather than thrown regularly, the combatants came to a hand-to-hand encounter with swords, the most desperate kind of

fighting. Amongst the foremost were the Fabii, who set a splendid example for their countrymen to behold. Quintus Fabius —the one who had been consul two years previously — charged, regardless of danger, the massed Veientines, and whilst he was engaged with vast numbers of the enemy, a Tuscan of vast strength and splendidly armed plunged his sword into his breast, and as he drew it out Fabius fell forward on the

wound. Both armies felt the fall of this one man, and the Romans were beginning to give ground, when M. Fabius, the consul, sprang over the body as it lay, and holding up his buckler, shouted, “Is this what you swore, soldiers, that you would go back to camp as

fugitives? Are you more afraid of this cowardly foe than of Jupiter and Mars, by whom you swore? I, who did not swear, will either go back victorious, or will fall fighting by you, Quintus Fabius.” Then Caeso Fabius, the consul of the previous year, said to the consul, “Is it by words like these, my brother, that you think you will make them

fight? The gods, by whom they swore, will-do that; our duty as chiefs, if we are to be worthy of the Fabian name, is to kindle our soldiers' courage by fighting rather than haranguing.” So the two Fabii dashed forward with levelled spears, and carried the whole line with them.