drawn by a white bull and a white cow. Taking turns, the brothers ploughed a continuous furrow to mark the boundary of the new city. While one plowed, the other walked beside him and wore the iron crown. Romulus began the furrow; Remus took the last turn and joined the furrow’s end to its beginning.
The throng that had followed every step of their progress cheered, laughed, and wept with joy. The brothers lifted their weary arms to heaven, then turned to each other and embraced. At that moment, it seemed to Potitius that the twins were truly beloved by the gods, and that no power on earth could lay them low.
On that day, in the month that would later be named Aprilis, in the year that would later be known as 753 B.C., the city of Roma was born.
The building of fortifications commenced at once. Compared to the great walls that had been built elsewhere in the world, such as those of ancient Troy, it was a very modest project. The plan was not to build a wall of stone blocks; that would have been impossible, as there were no quarries to supply the stone, no skilled masons to shape and set the blocks, and no one with the engineering skills to design such a wall. Instead, the new city would be defended by a network of ditches, earthen ramparts, and wooden pickets. In some places, the steep slope of the hillside itself would supply an adequate defense.
As modest, or even primitive, as the project would have appeared to a Greek tyrant or an Egyptian temple builder, the first fortifications of Roma were an undertaking on a scale never previously attempted in the region of the Seven Hills. For manpower, Romulus and Remus called upon the dwellers on Asylum Hill who had gone raiding with them, as well as the local youths with whom they had grown up. Few from either group had much experience at the tasks the twins set them. Frequent mistakes and a great deal of wasted effort led to much squabbling at the work site.
Whenever something went wrong, it was Romulus rather than Remus who gave way to fits of anger. He shouted at the workers, threatened them, and sometimes even struck them. The more the workers protested that they were blameless, the more furious Romulus would become, while Remus stood back and watched his brother’s outbursts with barely veiled amusement. It seemed to Potitius, at first, that things were simply getting back to normal, with Romulus showing himself to be the more hot-tempered of the twins and Remus the more easy-going. But after this scene was repeated numerous times-a failure in the fortifications, expressions of outrage from Romulus, the workers protesting their blamelessness, and Remus silently observing the incident-Potitius began to harbor an uneasy suspicion.
He was not alone. Pinarius was also present each day, and there was little that escaped his notice. One afternoon he drew Potitius aside.
“Cousin, this situation cannot go on. I think you should have a word with Remus-unless, of course, you’re the one who’s putting him up to this.”
“What are you talking about, Pinarius?”
“So far, I’ve said nothing to Romulus about my suspicions. I have no wish to make more trouble between the twins.”
“Speak plainly!” said Potitius.
“Very well. There have been too many problems with the construction of these fortifications. The men may not be skilled builders, but they’re not stupid. Nor are they all such shirkers and cowards that none of them would take responsibility for an honest mistake. Yet mistakes keep happening, with no one to take the blame. Romulus grows more vexed every day, while Remus can barely contain his laughter. A bit of harmless mischief is one thing. Deliberate treachery is another.”
“Are you saying that someone is sabotaging the construction?”
“Perhaps it’s nothing more than a series of practical jokes. The intention may be to infuriate Romulus, but the harm goes beyond that. Romulus is being made to look foolish. His authority is being undermined. The morale of the men is being damaged. Someone very clever is behind this. Is it you, cousin?”
“Of course not!”
“Who, then? Someone close to Remus-someone who can speak to him freely-needs to discuss this matter very seriously with him. Not I; he thinks I’m Romulus’s man. Perhaps you should talk to him, cousin?”
“And accuse him of treachery?”
“Use whatever words you think best. Just make sure that Remus understands that this situation must not continue.”
But when Potitius spoke to Remus-in a very careful and roundabout way, accusing him of nothing but suggesting that someone was hampering the progress of the fortifications-Remus shrugged off the idea. “Who would do such a thing? Certainly no one that I can think of. But have you considered, good Potitius, that the whole project is cursed? If there’s a will at work to thwart construction, might it not be a will other than human?”
Potitius shook his head. “Everything was done to appease the numina and appeal to the gods for their blessing. You yourself invoked Mavors and Vesta-”
“Yes, but was the original divination properly conducted?”
Potitius felt personally affronted. “The contest for sighting the vultures was soundly conceived. I called upon every principle of divination I learned in Tarquinia-”
“I find no fault with you, Potitius, or with your skills as a haruspex. But were the vultures properly-and honestly-counted? If not, then the selection of the Palatine was based upon a falsehood, and the city conceived by my brother Romulus is an offense to the gods-who have ways of making their will known.”
Potitius shook his head. “But if you believe this, Remus-”
“I didn’t say I believe it. I only suggest it as a possibility. It’s at least as credible as your suggestion that someone is maliciously causing damage. Again I ask you, Potitius: Who would do such a thing? Who would wish to stir up so much trouble, and have the daring and the guile to do so?”
Remus raised an eyebrow and gave him an indulgent smile to show that, as far as he was concerned, his friend’s idea had been put to rest. But Potitius, more uneasy than ever, found himself harboring a new suspicion. He now was certain that Remus had done nothing to hinder the construction, no matter that he showed bitter amusement at his brother’s vexation. If there was a troublemaker among them, a person who said one thing and meant another, who seemed always to have his own ulterior motives, was that person not his cousin Pinarius?
Of this new suspicion, Potitius said nothing. He decided to watch and to wait, and meanwhile to keep silent. Later he would wish that he had spoken out, not only to Remus but to Romulus as well; but perhaps nothing he might have done could have altered the course of events.
Summer came, and with it long, sweltering days. Work on the fortifications proceeded, but slowly and with repeated setbacks. The men grew tired of so much hard work and restless; they wanted to go raiding again. It was on a particularly hot, humid day, when tempers were already short, that the worst of all mishaps occurred.
The men were working along a section of the perimeter where the terrain was largely flat, and therefore required considerable fortification. First a picket wall was constructed in sections. Each section was made of sharpened stakes laid side by side, then lashed together with leather thongs. A narrow trench was dug, into which the picket sections were set upright and secured together, so that when the trench was filled with tightly packed earth the picket wall was steadfast. But Romulus was dissatisfied with the height of the completed wall. Many of the tree trunks and branches that had been used for the pickets were hardly taller than a man, and once they had been buried in the trench they were shorter still; if enough debris-or dead bodies-were to be piled before the wall, an attacker with long legs and strong nerves might dare to leap over the pickets. Along that section, Romulus decided that another layer of defense was called for, so he ordered the men to dig an outer trench, knee-deep, which would be lined with spikes.
Digging was the job the men despised most, especially in the hard, sun-baked earth. They dripped sweat, grumbled under their breaths, and spoke of how much sweeter it would be to mount a horse and go riding with the warm wind in their faces, looking for booty and bloodshed and women.
Suddenly, first in a few places and then along the whole length of the ditch, the bank of earth between the wall and the trench began to crumble. The men had dug too close to the pickets. The packed earth that anchored the wall gave way. All at once, the entire wall tumbled forward, directly on top of the men digging the trench.
Romulus was nearby, discussing the next stretch of fortifications with Remus, Potitius, and Pinarius. At the sound of men screaming, they all came running, and witnessed a scene of despair. The fallen wall was too heavy to
