"Now, sister, the fates control. Desist! It is too late, I will be shamed no more!" Leaping from his chariot, he rushed forward, demanding that war cease in order that he and Aeneas might decide the battle in single combat.
When Turnus's sword broke on the helmet of Aeneas,—the sword of his charioteer, that he had seized by mistake instead of his own Styx-hardened blade,—he turned and fled, Aeneas pursuing.
Above, in Olympus, Jupiter and Juno quarrelled, as they watched the heroes circling over the yellow sand.
"Give over thy enmity," said the omnipotent father. "Thou hast caused the treaty to be violated; even now thou hast made Juturna return the lost sword to Turnus—in vain. Grieve no more, and goad no longer these suffering men of Troy."
Then Juno yielded, stipulating only that the Trojans lay aside their ancient name, that Latium remain Latium, and the future growth Roman.
Juturna, warned by Jove's messenger, a bird of evil omen, tore her locks and beat her breast, regretting the gift of immortality conferred on her by Jove. Then wrapping her gray veil about her, she fled to her watery throne that she might not see the death of her brother. The frightened Turnus, still fleeing from Aeneas, abandoned his sword and took up instead a mighty rock, a landmark such as scarce six men could uplift.
Hurling this at Aeneas, he stood, his blood running chill, his eyes cast towards the Rutuli, the town, and the spear of Aeneas, that, shrieking through the air, doom laden, wrecked his heavy shield and pierced his thigh.
"Mercy!" he prayed. "Fate hath given thee the advantage. Think, thou duteous son, of my old father, Daunus."
As Aeneas stood, softened, and ready to grant the request, the sword-belt of Pallas caught his eye.
"Shalt thou escape, decked out with Pallas's spoils? No, not I slay thee, but Pallas! His hand immolates thee!" As he spoke he plunged his sword in Turnus's breast.