He was coming, maddened by jealousy, exasperated at another man's merits and good fortune, furious because the republic had triumphed in his absence. If it were in his power to change the fortune of the day, he would rather that victory rested with the Samnites than with the Romans.

He kept talking about the contempt of orders as though the reason why he forbade all fighting were not precisely the same as that which makes him vexed now that we have fought.

Then, prompted by jealousy, he wanted to suppress the merits of others and deprive of their arms men who were most eager to use them, so as to prevent their being employed in his absence; now he is exasperated and furious because the soldiers were not crippled or defenceless though L. Papirius was not with them, and because Q. Fabius considered himself Master of the Horse and not the lacquey of the Dictator.

What would he have done if, as often happens amid the chances of war, the battle had gone against us, seeing that now, after the enemy has been thoroughly defeated and a victory won for the republic which even under his unrivalled generalship could not have been more complete, he is actually menacing the Master of the Horse with punishment! He would, were it in his power, treat all with equal severity, not only the Master of Horse but the military tribunes, the centurions, the men of the rank and file.

Jealousy, like lightning, strikes the summits, and because he cannot reach all he has selected one man as his victim whom he regards as the chief conspirator —your general.

If he should succeed in crushing him and quenching the splendour of his success, he will treat this army as a victor treats the vanquished, and with the same ruthlessness which he has been allowed to practise on the Master of the Horse. In defending his cause they will be defending the liberty of all.

If the Dictator sees that the army is as united in guarding its victory as it was in fighting for it, and that one man's safety is the common concern of all, he will bring himself to a calmer frame of mind. His closing words were: “I entrust my fortunes and my life to your fidelity and courage.” His words were greeted with universal shouts of approval.

They told him not to be dismayed or depressed, no man should harm him while the legions of Rome were alive.

Not long after this the Dictator appeared, and at once ordered the trumpet to sound the Assembly. When silence was restored an usher summoned Q. Fabius, the Master of the Horse. He advanced and stood immediately below the Dictator's tribunal.

The Dictator began: “Quintus Fabius, inasmuch as the Dictator possesses supreme authority, to which the consuls who exercise the old kingly power, and the praetors who are elected under the same auspices as the

consuls alike submit, I ask you whether or not you think it right and fitting that the Master of the Horse should bow to that authority?

Further, I ask you whether as I was aware that I had left the City under doubtful auspices I ought to have jeopardised the safety of the republic in the face of this religious difficulty, or whether I ought to have taken the auspices afresh and so avoided any action till the pleasure of the gods was known? I should also like to know whether, if a religious impediment prevents the Dictator from acting, the Master of the Horse is at liberty to consider himself free and unhampered by such impediment?

But why am I putting these questions? Surely, if I had gone away without leaving any orders, you ought to have used your judgment in interpreting my wishes and acted accordingly. Answer me this, rather: Did I forbid you to take any action in my absence? Did I forbid you to engage the enemy?

In contempt of my orders, whilst the auspices were still indecisive and the sanctions of religion withheld, you dared