The signal to start was given, and placing their left feet on the handles of their lances all sprang simultaneously upon their chargers, dashing forward in a compact squadron along the track. The immense crowd broke into acclamations at sight of the bizarre riders who leaning forward almost lay on their horses' necks, as if forming a single body with them, waving their lances, quickening their gallop with shouts, and wrapped in a cloud of dust through which the multitude could barely make out the straining legs and the bellies of the animals which were nearly touching the ground. The wild race lasted long. The less skillful riders, and those with poorer mounts, were being out-stripped; the squadron was diminishing visibly. He who should remain longest on the track, ever in advance of the others, would win the crown, and the people made bets on the Celtiberian Alorcus, and on the Athenian Actæon who figured from the first instant at the head of the riders.
The citizens who did not wish to wait in the sun for the end of the race followed the river bank until they reached the walls, in the shade of which the youths were wrestling or engaging in boxing matches in competition for the prize for dexterity. Others of more pacific turn went to the Forum, where beneath the porticos the young aristocrats were competing for the laurel crown offered for the most skilled in music and song. Seated on ivory chairs, attended by their handsome slave boys who fanned them with branches of myrtle, Lachares and his friends played the flute or thrummed the lyre, singing Greek verses with sweet and effeminate intonations. In the gathering, some laughed, mimicking the softness of their voices, but others, indignant, compelled silence, overcome by the charm which art, even in this womanish guise, exercised over their uncultured minds.
Late in the morning the clamor from the enthusiastic multitude filled the broad space of the Forum like reverberating thunder. It was the people returning from the races, acclaiming the victor. The arrogant Alorcus, dragged off the back of his horse, was borne on the shoulders of the most enthusiastic. The olive crown encircled his tossed and dusty hair. Actæon was beside him, celebrating his triumph fraternally, without a touch of envy.
The singers, swept away before this wave of enthusiasm, made off with their chairs and instruments. The crown of laurel was bound upon Lachares in the midst of general indifference, and he received no other congratulations than those of his slaves. All the enthusiasm of the city was lavished upon the winner in the races; the people were inflamed with admiration for strength and skill.
The solemn moment had come; the pompa was about to begin. In the merchant's ward slaves hung red and green bunting from roof to roof which shaded the streets. The windows and terraces were draped with multicolored tapestries of complicated design, and slave women placed censers in the doorways for burning perfumes.
The rich Grecian women, followed by their servants who carried sedan chairs, went in search of places where they could sit on the steps of the temples or in the shops at the Forum, and the people ranged themselves along the houses, impatiently awaiting the arrival of the procession which was forming outside the walls. Flocks of children completely nude ran through the streets waving branches of myrtle, shouting acclamations in honor of the goddess.
Suddenly the people stirred, bursting into cries of enthusiasm. The pageant in honor of Minerva had entered through the gate of the Road of the Serpent and was advancing slowly toward the Forum, through the ward of the merchants, who were the organizers of the festival.
In advance marched venerable old men with long beards, dressed in white, with voluminous mantles, their snowy hair crowned with green leaves, and carrying olive branches in their hands. Then came the more arrogant citizens, armed with lance and shield, the visor of the Grecian helmet drawn down over their eyes, proudly displaying the strong muscles of their arms and limbs. Next followed the most beautiful youths of the city, crowned with flowers, singing hymns in praise of the goddess; choruses of nude children, dancing with unaffected grace, clasping hands, forming a chain of complicated combinations. Now appeared the maidens, daughters of the rich, clad only in a tunic of finest linen, which displayed their youthful charms. They carried in their hands as offerings dainty willow baskets covered by veils which hid the instruments for the sacrifice to the goddess, and with these the loaves made of new wheat and the handfuls of golden ears which were to be deposited on her altar. To clearly mark the dignity of the rich virgins, slave women marched behind them bearing their sedan chairs inlaid with ivory, and the striped silk sunshades with gay colored tassels at the ends of the staves.
A group of slave women chosen for their beauty, with Rhanto in the premier rank, carried on their heads great amphoræ filled with honey and water for the libations in honor of the goddess. Behind them marched the musicians and singers of the city, crowned with roses, clad in flowing white vestments. They swept the lyre, and played the flutes, and some Greeks from Sónnica's pottery, who had been wandering rhapsodists, sang fragments from the epic of the Trojan war before the barbarian throngs, who scarcely understood them, but admired the harmonious cadence of Homer's verses.
The people pressed forward, craning their necks to get a better view of the salii, the dancing devotees of Mars, who advanced nude, armed with sword and shield. Slung from the stick laid across their shoulders, two slaves were carrying a row of bronze shields, on which another slave was beating with a mallet, and keeping time to these harsh sounds the salii danced, making feigned attacks, and raining blows with their swords on the shield of the pretended adversary, uttering ferocious shouts, and also performing pantomimes to recall the main episodes in the life of the goddess Minerva.