XXII. There was a certain citizen of Antium named Tullus Aufidius, who, from his wealth, courage, and noble birth, was regarded as the most important man in the whole Volscian nation. Marcius knew that this man hated him more than any other Roman; for in battle they had often met, and by challenging and defying one another, as young warriors are wont to do, they had, in addition to their national antipathy, gained a violent personal hatred for one another. In spite of this, however, knowing the generous nature of Tullus, and longing more than any Volscian to requite the Romans for their treatment, he justified the verses,
"'Tis hard to strive with rage, which aye,
Though life's the forfeit, gains its way."
He disguised himself as completely as he could, and, like Ulysses,
"Into the city of his foes he came."
XXIII. It was evening when he entered Antium, and although many met him, no one recognised him. He went to Tullus's house, and entering, sat down by the hearth in silence, with his head wrapped in his cloak. The domestics, astonished at his behaviour, did not dare to disturb him, as there was a certain dignity about his appearance and his silence, but went and told Tullus, who was at supper, of this strange incident. Tullus rose, went to him, and inquired who he was and what he wanted. Then at length Marcius uncovered his face, and, after a short pause, said, "If you do not recognise me, Tullus, or if you do not believe your eyes, I must myself tell you who I am. I am Caius Marcius, who has wrought you and the Volscians more mischief than any one else, and who, lest I should deny this, have received the additional title of Coriolanus. This I cannot lose: every thing else has been taken from me by the envious spite of the people, and the treacherous remissness of the upper classes. I am an exile, and I now sit as a suppliant on your hearth, begging you, not for safety or protection, for should I have come hither if I feared to die, but for vengeance against those who drove me forth, which I am already beginning to receive by putting myself in your hands. If then, my brave Tullus, you wish to attack your foes, make use of my misfortunes, and let my disgrace be the common happiness of all the Volscians. I shall fight for you much better than I have fought against you, because I have the advantage of knowing exactly the strength and weakness of the enemy. If, however, you are tired of war, I have no wish for life, nor is it to your credit to save the life of one who once was your personal enemy, and who now is worn out and useless." Tullus was greatly delighted with this speech, and giving him his right hand, answered, "Rise, Marcius, and be of good courage. You have brought us a noble present, yourself; rest assured that the Volscians will not be ungrateful." He then feasted Marcius with great hospitality, and for some days they conferred together as to the best method of carrying on the war.
XXIV. Rome meanwhile was disturbed by the anger of the patricians towards the plebeians, especially on account of the banishment of Marcius, and by many portents which were observed both by the priests and by private persons, one of which was as follows. There was one Titus Latinus, a man of no great note, but a respectable citizen and by no means addicted to superstition. He dreamed that he saw Jupiter face to face, and that the god bade him tell the Senate that "they had sent a bad dancer before his procession, and one who was very displeasing to him."
On first seeing this vision he said that he disregarded it; but after it had occurred a second and a third time he had the unhappiness to see his son sicken and die, while he himself suddenly lost the use of his limbs.
He told this story in the senate house, to which he had been carried on a litter; and as soon as he had told it, he found his bodily strength return, rose, and walked home.
The senators, greatly astonished, inquired into the matter. It was found that a slave, convicted of some crime, had been ordered by his master to be flogged through the market-place, and then put to death. While this was being done, and the wretch was twisting his body in every kind of contortion as he writhed under the blows, the procession by chance was following after him. Many of those who walked in it were shocked at the unseemliness of the spectacle, and disgusted at its inhumanity, but no one did anything more than reproach and execrate a man who treated his slaves with so much cruelty.
At that period men treated their slaves with great kindness, because the master himself worked and ate in their company, and so could sympathise more with them. The great punishment for a slave who had done wrong was to make him carry round the neighbourhood the piece of wood on which the pole of a waggon is rested. The slave who has done this and been seen by the neighbours and friends, lost his credit, and was called furcifer, for the Romans call that piece of timber furca, "a fork," which the Greeks call hypostates, "a supporter."