Ab urbe condita

In any case, however, he would rather that the Aequi should repent of their own accord than suffer at the hands of an enemy; if they did repent they could safely throw themselves on the clemency they had already experienced, but if they

found pleasure in perjuring themselves, they would be warring more against the angered gods than against earthly foes.

These words, however, had so little effect that the envoys barely escaped maltreatment, and an army was despatched to Mount Algidus against the Romans. On this being reported at Rome, feelings of indignation rather than apprehension of danger hurried the other consul out of the City.

So two armies under the command of both consuls advanced against the enemy in battle formation, to bring about an immediate engagement. But, as it happened, not much daylight remained, and a soldier called out from the enemies outposts: “This, Romans, is making a display of war, not waging it.

You form your line when night is at hand; we need more daylight for the coming battle. When tomorrow's sun is rising, get into line again. There will be an ample opportunity of fighting, do not fear!”

Smarting under these taunts the soldiers were marched back into camp, to wait for the next day. They thought the coming night a long one, as it delayed the contest; after returning to camp they refreshed themselves with food and sleep. When the next day dawned the Roman line was formed some time before that of the enemy. At length the Aequi advanced.

The fighting was fierce on both sides; the Romans fought in an angry and bitter temper; the Aequi, conscious of the danger in which their misdoing had involved them, and hopeless of ever being trusted in the future, were compelled to make a desperate and final effort.

They did not, however, hold their ground against the Roman army, but were defeated and forced to retire within their frontiers. The spirit of the rank and file of the army was unbroken and not a whit more inclined to peace.

They censured their generals because they staked all on one pitched battle, a mode of fighting in which the Romans excelled, whereas the Aequi, they said, were better at destructive forays and raids; numerous bands acting in all directions would be more successful than if massed in one great army.

Accordingly, leaving a detachment to guard the camp, they sallied forth, and made such devastating forays in the Roman territory that the terror they caused extended even to the City.

The alarm was all the greater because such proceedings were quite unexpected. For nothing was less to be feared than that an enemy who had been defeated and almost surrounded in his camp should think of

predatory incursions, whilst the panic-stricken country people, pouring in at the gates and exaggerating everything in their wild alarm, exclaimed that they were not mere raids or small bodies of plunderers, entire armies of the enemy were near, preparing to swoop down on the City in force.

Those who were nearest carried what they heard to others, and the vague rumours became still more exaggerated and false. The running and clamour of men shouting “To arms!” created nearly as great a panic as though the City was actually taken.

Fortunately the consul Quinctius had returned to Rome from Algidus. This relieved their fears, and after allaying the excitement and rebuking them for being afraid of a defeated enemy, he stationed troops to guard the gates.

The senate was then convened, and on their authority he proclaimed a suspension of all business; after which he set out to protect the frontier, leaving Q. Servilius as prefect of the City.