Ab urbe condita

but this they did as worshippers rather than as plunderers.

The deportation of Queen Juno to Rome was entrusted to a body of men selected from the whole army, who after performing their ablutions and arraying themselves in white vestments, reverently entered the temple and in a spirit of holy dread placed their hands on the statue, for it was as a rule only the priest of one particular house who, by Etruscan usage, touched it. Then one of them, either under a sudden inspiration, or in a spirit of youthful mirth, said, “Art thou willing, Juno, to go to Rome?”

The rest exclaimed that the goddess nodded assent. An addition to the story was made to the effect that she was heard to say, “I am willing.”

At all events we have it that she was moved from her place by appliances of little power, and proved light and easy of transport, as though she were following of her own accord.

She was brought without mishap to the Aventine, her everlasting seat, whither the prayers of the Roman Dictator had called her, and where this same Camillus afterwards dedicated the temple which he had vowed. Such was the fall of Veii, the most wealthy city of the Etruscan league, showing its greatness even in its final overthrow, since after being besieged for ten summers and winters and inflicting more loss than it sustained, it succumbed at last to destiny, being after all carried by a mine and not by direct assault.