1.25
On the conclusion of the
treaty the six combatants armed themselves. They
were greeted with shouts of encouragement from their
comrades, who reminded them that their fathers'
gods, their fatherland, their fathers, every
fellow-citizen, every fellow-soldier, were now
watching their weapons and the hands that wielded
them. Eager for the contest and inspired by the
voices round them, they advanced into the open space
between the opposing lines. The two armies were
sitting in front of their respective camps, relieved
from personal danger but not from anxiety, since
upon the fortunes and courage of this little group
hung the issue of dominion. Watchful and nervous,
they gaze with feverish intensity on a spectacle by
no means entertaining. The signal was given, and
with uplifted swords the six youths charged like a
battle-line with the courage of a mighty host. Not
one of them thought of his own danger; their sole
thought was for their country, whether it would be
supreme or subject, their one anxiety that they were
deciding its future fortunes. When, at the first
encounter, the flashing swords rang on their
opponents' shields, a deep shudder ran through the
spectators; then a breathless silence followed, as
neither side seemed to be gaining any advantage.
Soon, however, they saw something more than the
swift movements of limbs and the rapid play of sword
and shield: blood became visible flowing from open
wounds. Two of the Romans fell one on the other,
breathing out their life, whilst all the three
Albans were wounded. The fall of the Romans was
welcomed with a burst of exultation from the Alban
army; whilst the Roman legions, who had lost all
hope, but not all anxiety, trembled for their
solitary champion surrounded by the three Curiatii.
It chanced that he was untouched, and though not a
match for the three together, he was confident of
victory against each separately. So, that he might
encounter each singly, he took to flight, assuming
that they would follow as well as their wounds would
allow. He had run some distance from the spot where
the combat began, when, on looking back, he saw them
following at long intervals from each other, the
foremost not far from him. He turned and made a
desperate attack upon him, and whilst the Alban army
were shouting to the other Curiatii to come to their
brother's assistance, Horatius had already slain his
foe and, flushed with victory, was awaiting the
second encounter. Then the Romans cheered their
champion with a shout such as men raise when hope
succeeds to despair, and he hastened to bring the
fight to a close. Before the third, who was not far
away, could come up, he despatched the second
Curiatius. The survivors were now equal in point of
numbers, but far from equal in either confidence or
strength. The one, unscathed after his double
victory, was eager for the third contest; the other,
dragging himself wearily along, exhausted by his
wounds and by his running, vanquished already by the
previous slaughter of his brothers, was an easy
conquest to his victorious foe. There was, in fact,
no fighting. The Roman cried exultingly: "Two have I
sacrificed to appease my brothers' shades; the third
I will offer for the issue of this fight, that the
Roman may rule the Alban." He thrust his sword
downward into the neck of his opponent, who could no
longer lift his shield, and then despoiled him as he
lay. Horatius was welcomed by the Romans with shouts
of triumph, all the more joyous for the fears they
had felt. Both sides turned their attention to
burying their dead champions, but with very
different feelings, the one rejoicing in wider
dominion, the other deprived of their liberty and
under alien rule. The tombs stand on the spots where
each fell; those of the Romans close together, in
the direction of Alba; the three Alban tombs, at
intervals, in the direction of Rome.