While the colonists were clearing the land on the Square Hill, building
huts and laying out farms, they saw nothing of Romulus and Remus. The old
shepherd Faustulus came up now and then to look at the work as it went on,
and plainly thought these newcomers wonderful and superior beings. But the
wolf’s foster children were fighters, not husbandmen, and this work was
not in their line at all.
The fathers of the colony were not altogether sorry that this was so. They
felt that if the hunters, woodsmen, shepherds, soldiers of fortune, and
outlawed men Romulus commanded should happen to quarrel with peaceable
people like the settlers, it might create a very unpleasant state of
things. The brothers themselves were friendly enough, but it was not
certain whether they could keep their men from plunder or fighting if they
tried. Such bands, so far as Colonus and his friends had known of them,
were like a pack of wolves,—the chiefs only held their leadership by being
stronger, fiercer and more determined than the others. Their group of rude
huts in the forest was not at all like a civilized town, from what they
said of it, and they never seemed to give any attention to the gods or to
worship. Perhaps they did not know much about such things. Even those who
came from civilized places had wandered about so much that they seemed to
think one place as good as another. They had no idea of the feeling that
made their home, to the colonists, dearer than any other place ever could
be. It was so not because it was pleasanter, or because they had more
comforts than others, but because it was home, the place where people knew
and trusted one another and trusted in the unseen dwellers by the fire to
protect and guide them, and to make them wise and just in their dealings
with one another.
To the colonists there was a very great difference between the ways of
different people. The words they used showed it. Civil life began when men
lived in a city, but this was not a large settlement of miscellaneous
persons, but a permanent home of men who all worshiped the same gods, and
obeyed the same laws and took responsibility. A man who did his part in
the life of such a place was a “citizen,” and the life itself was
“civilized,” the life of men who served one another and the whole
community—men, women and children—looking out for its future as they would
for the prosperity of their own family. In fact, such a body of people
usually began with a group of relatives, as this one had. Without this
dependence on one another to do the right thing, there could not be
civilization.
A “company” was a group who were so far friends as to eat bread together.
This in itself was a proof of a sort of friendship, for in eating a man
had to lay down his weapons and be more or less off guard; when men ate
together they were all off guard for the time. “Community” meant a group
of families or persons bound together by kindred or friendship or common
interest, and stronger for being bound together, as a bundle of sticks is
stronger than separate sticks can be. “Religion” meant something stronger
still, the binding together of people who felt the same sort of ties to
the unseen world, who worshiped in the same way, and loved the same sweet,
old, familiar prayers and chants, and believed in the same unseen rulers
of life and death.
The various words for strangers outside these ties which bound them to
their own people were just as expressive. Among farmers who lived on
cleared land, within walls, the people who did not were “out of doors,”
the forest people, the “foreigners.” Among a people who all spoke the same
language, the thick-tongued country people, whose ideas were few, like
their needs and their occupations, were the “barbarians,”—the babblers.
And in a place like the settlement they were making now, a little island
of orderly, intelligent life in a waste of almost uninhabited wilderness,
the scattered hut dwellers were the “pagans,” the people of the waste. But
almost every word that meant a civilized family or town had in it the idea
of obligation. People must see that they could not be lawless and have any
civil life at all. Civil life meant living together and living more or
less by rules that were meant for the comfort and welfare of all.
Now the wild followers of Romulus could surely not be united by any such
law as this. They fought as if Mars himself had taught them, the country
folk said; but the worship of this god of manhood meant a great many
things besides fighting. No settlement could be strong where the men were
free to fight one another, knew nothing of self-control, made no homes.
Just how much Romulus understood of this, Colonus was not sure. As it
proved, he understood a great deal more than any one thought he did.
Suddenly, as they always came and went, the twins appeared one day at the
gate of the palisade and were made very welcome. It happened to be a feast
day, the feast of Lupercal, which came in midwinter, and the fact was that
Romulus had found this out and had come that day on purpose. He was always
interested in sacrifices, omens, and old customs. Remus had brought his
pipes, and while he played for the dancers some wild music that none of
them had ever heard, Romulus came over to the older men. He was rather
quiet for a long time, watching all that went on, and his eyes turned
often to the fire on the altar.
“My uncle,” he said at last to Marcus Colonus, when they were seated a
little apart from the others, “I came here to tell you the desire of my
heart, and now that I am here, I feel afraid. There is much in the world
that I have never seen and do not know. With you, I feel like a little boy
who has everything yet to learn.”
This was a surprise to Colonus, and it was a pleasant one. This young man,
who had fought his way to power and leadership at an age when most boys
are still depending on their fathers for advice in everything, had somehow
learned to be gentle and reverent, and not too sure of himself. This was a
thing that Colonus could not have expected. He did not see exactly where
Romulus had learned it, but it gave him a feeling of great kindness toward
his young kinsman.
“There is no need for you to be afraid,” he said cordially. “We are all
your friends here. We owe you much for your aid and counsel. You are of
our blood. This is your home whenever you come among us.”
The young leader stole a quick look from his keen, dark eyes at the older
man. He had opened the conversation with that speech, not because he did
not mean it, for he did; he felt very rude and ignorant among these
kinsfolk of his, with their kindly, pleasant ways, and practical wisdom,
and unconscious dignity. He was perfectly honest in saying that. But he
said it just then because he wished to find out how Colonus felt toward
him, and how far he could count on his approval and support in a plan he
had. It would be better not to ask for help at all than to ask for it and
be refused. The young chief of outlaws was proud. He was also wise, with
the sagacity of a wild thing that has had to fight for life against all
the world from birth. He never had really trusted anybody. The weak who
were afraid to oppose him might do it if they dared. The strong must not
be allowed to see his weakness or they would take the advantage. The old
shepherd was kind, but he did not always see danger. Strength and kindness
did not go together in Romulus’ experience. Even when he and his men were
protecting the mountain villages, doing for them what they could not do
for themselves, the people never let them forget that they were outlawed
men. Because they did not live inside the walls and do just as the farmers
did, they could not be called civilized. But these men here were his
kinsmen, and they seemed different. Some instinct told him that with
Colonus it would be better not to pretend to be wise and strong, but to
ask advice.
“That is very good of you,” he said gratefully. “But I am not, after all,
really one of you. I was not brought up as your sons have been. I cannot
be sure that they would trust me as my own men do. If I were sure—”
And then he stopped.
“Do you mean,” asked Colonus, “that you wish the help of our young men in
some expedition?”
Romulus decided to risk it. “If it is wise in your eyes,” he said.
“We are strangers in this land,” said Colonus deliberately, “and we must
be careful what we do. You had better tell me exactly what the plan is,
for I cannot judge in the dark. If I think it is not good I will say so,
and we will let the matter drop and say no more. If it seems wise I will
speak of it to Tullius the priest and the other men, and do all I can to
help you.”
He suspected that Romulus had some plan for making war against his wicked
uncle and winning back the place that he and his brother had been robbed
of. He wished to know more of the young man’s ways of thinking and acting
before he made any promises. It might be a very good thing if Amulius were
overthrown, for he was feared and hated even by his own people. The
colonists were not strong enough to do it themselves, and it was not their
quarrel, but it was a very grave question whether they would not have to
fight the soldiers of Amulius sooner or later. He had never troubled the
few scattered shepherds and hunters by the riverside, but a settlement
like theirs, if it grew and was prosperous, might attract his attention.
It was natural enough for Romulus to desire to overthrow the man who had
cast him out of his rightful place, but whether he could do it was another
matter. The young men would not make any trouble about joining him in his
war if they were allowed to, for he was already a sort of hero among them.
But if they drifted into the vagabond godless life of the outlaws in the
forest, it would be very unfortunate indeed. The only possible way in
which the settlement by the river could hold its own was by standing
together and keeping the old proved discipline. The lads had never done
any real fighting, and it would be a great experience for them. Everything
would depend on the leader under whom they fought, and Colonus did not
really know much about him.
Very often conversation goes on without the use of words. This is so in
animals, who seem to understand each other without any talk at all. There
is more or less of it even among modern, civilized men. The two kinsmen
were not so far from the wild life of their ancestors that they did not
see through each other to some extent. Romulus knew well enough that the
colonists ruled their lives by ancient customs, and by what they could
learn of the will of the gods. A man like Marcus Colonus would naturally
have some questions to ask of a young fellow who paid no more attention to
old rules and ceremonies than a wild hawk. The youth intended to answer as
many of these questions as he could, before they were asked.
“A long time ago,” Romulus began, his dark eyes fixed thoughtfully on the
leaping flames, “when my brother and I were boys, Faustulus the shepherd
took us farther from our pastures than we had ever been before. We came to
a place after much wandering, where all the people were making holiday.
When we asked, being still youths and curious, what holiday it was, they
said it was the day of the founding of the city.
“They knew the name and the history of the founder of the city, who came
from a far country with his people, and was led by a wolf to the place
where the city was to be. Although he had long been dead, he was
remembered and loved. The priest said that his spirit was often with them
and blessed them when they did right. He was to them a kind father, who
never forgets his children.
“Then, not understanding how one man could found a city, I asked the
priest, and he told me that the city was not a mere crowd of people, but
the home of the gods and of the ancestors of the people, as a house is the
home of a man. The unseen dwellers by the fireside require not great
houses, but when the fire is kept burning they love it as do the living.
Then I watched and saw the processions, and the dancing, and heard the
chanting of songs and the sacred music, and all that was done in honor of
the founder. I saw that the city was the home of a man, living or dead,
forever and ever. Then I said, ‘When I am a man, I will found a city in
the place where the wolf saved our lives when we were children.’ My
brother laughed, and I, being angry, knocked him down. I wanted to kill
him in that moment. But the priest told me that there must never be
quarreling on a feast day, because it brought ill luck. I was afraid that
the founder of the city saw me and was angry. I went away. But from that
time I have always wished to found a city in this place, and for that
reason I was glad when your people came and I could lead them here.”
Colonus found this story a touching one. It showed a reverence and
affection for the things he had not known, which he was glad to see in
this strong young man.
“And that is your secret desire?” he said, smiling.
“That is my dream,” said Romulus. And he looked at the older man with eyes
that had a question in them.
“If you are to found a city here,” said Colonus slowly, “Mars must lead
you as he leads us. If our young men fight in your battles, your men must
come and live with us and worship our gods and obey our laws. That is what
a city means. How will these things be, Romulus, son of the Ramnes, son of
the wolf?”
“My men will go where I go,” said Romulus briefly. “This also is in my
mind, my uncle, and you shall tell me whether it is a wise plan or the
hasty vision of youth. There are many in the army of Amulius, my uncle,
who hate him as much as they fear him. He suspects that we are the
children he tried to murder, and will try to hunt us down and make the
people we have protected betray us. Perhaps they will fight for themselves
if they will not fight for us; I do not know. But there is not one among
my men,” the youth lifted his dark head in high confidence, “who follows
me from any other reason than because he wishes. They do not all love me,”
he added, with a grin that showed his sharp white teeth, “but I am their
leader and they will die fighting before they will yield to Amulius.
“If then I lead my men boldly against Amulius, not waiting for him to be
ready, not staying until he sends his slaves to hunt me down, not letting
him hear of our coming till we are there, I think that we may succeed, and
then will the land be freed. He himself is old and has not led men to war
for many years. I think that many in his army will refuse to fight against
us, and others will yield without much fighting, and when we have come and
taken his city, the people who obey him now will be glad. But my
grandfather is still alive, and he, and not my brother nor myself, has the
right to rule upon the Long White Mountain.
“When my grandfather is again ruler where he has the right, then would I
come here and found my own city in my own place where the she-wolf saved
our lives. Was she not the servant of Mars?”
Colonus nodded thoughtfully. “It would seem so.”
“Then shall my people be your people, and your gods my gods,” said
Romulus, his clear voice cutting the rest like the call of a trumpet. The
young people on the other side of the square looked curiously at the two,
the young man and the older one, so deep in talk, and Remus, laughing,
began to play again. It was a sweet and piercing measure that set all
their feet flying.
Colonus stood up and took his young kinsman by the hand. “You are of our
blood,” he said, “and your fight is our fight. We have talked of this
among us, and have thought that perhaps you would do this. I think that
our council will be of one mind with me in this matter. The gods guide
you, my son.”