In vain the terrified people tried to fill up the gulf. However much they threw into it, there it was, deep, dark, mysterious as before.
Then the Romans went to their priests and begged them to learn from the gods how the gulf might be closed.
The answer, when it came, seemed almost as perplexing as had been the problem. ‘Never will the awful chasm disappear until into it has been thrown the best and truest strength of Rome.’
What was the true strength of the city? With grave faces and anxious hearts the people pondered the answer of the gods.
Suddenly the truth flashed into the mind of a noble youth named Curtius, who was known among his fellows as a brave and gallant soldier.
‘The true strength of Rome,’ said Curtius, ‘can lie in naught save in the arms and in the valour of her children. To think otherwise would shame us all.’
So, believing that he had discovered the will of the gods, the noble youth donned his armour, mounted his steed, and plunged headlong into the abyss.
A great crowd had gathered in the Forum to see what Curtius meant to do. For a moment the people stood in silence, awed by the fate of the young Roman, and full of admiration for his deed.
Then, rousing themselves, they took offerings of gold and precious ornaments and flung them after the bold rider and his horse, and as they did so, slowly the gulf closed. And since that day the place where once the chasm yawned has been called the Curtian Lake.
Before the plague was subdued, in 361 B.C., the Gauls once more invaded Roman lands, and a terrible battle was again fought, near the river Anio.