Yet taken alive he would never be! So with desperate speed he ran on until he reached a little grove, which was consecrated to the Furies, and here for a few brief moments he was hidden from his pursuers. Then in a stern voice he bade his slave, who was now alone with him, to kill him before he was discovered by his enemies.
His slave obeyed, and, faithful to the end, slew himself as well as his master.
Here in the grove his enemies found the body of Gaius Gracchus, covered by that of his devoted slave.
Here it would be possible, he thought, to hold the enemy at bay.
The head of the dead man was cut off, and to increase its weight was filled with lead. This was done, it is told, by one who was once his friend. But this we cannot easily believe. It was, however, taken to the Consul, who gave for it the promised reward—its weight in gold.
The body of Gaius was then dragged through the streets, and thrown into the Tiber.
And Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi?
She bore the loss of her two sons as she had borne all the disasters of her life, with an undaunted spirit.
Her friends marvelled to hear her speak of her sons with no outward sign of grief, but Cornelia was too proud of the service they had done for Rome to weep. Yet she left the city and lived in retirement, for, with all her fortitude, she could not bear to meet those who had approved of the murder of her sons.