de; forgot how
often noble captives had been forced to walk in Roman triumphs and been
afterwards slain in cold blood in the common prison; forgot how they had
recently refused the rites of burial to the body of a noble Samnite. But
Pontius, the Samnite general, was much less of a barbarian than the
Romans of that age. He was acquainted with Greek philosophy, had even
held conversation, it is said, with Plato, and was not the man to
indulge in cruel or insulting acts.

"Restore to us," he said to the consuls, "the towns and territory you
have taken from us, and withdraw the colonists whom you have unjustly
placed on our soil. Conclude with us a treaty of peace, in which each
nation shall be acknowledged to be independent of the other. Swear to do
this, and I will grant you your lives and release you without ransom.
Each man of you shall give up his arms, but may keep his clothes
untouched; and you shall pass before our army as prisoners who have been
in our power and whom we have set free of our own will, when we might
have killed or sold them, or held them for ransom."

These terms the consuls were glad enough to accept. They were far better
than they would have granted the Samnites under similar circumstances.
Pontius now called for the Roman fecialis, whose duty it was to conclude
all treaties and take all oaths for the Roman people. But there was no
fecialis with the army. The senate had sent none, having resolved to
make no terms with the Samnites, and to accept only their absolute
submission. They had never dreamed of such a turn of the tide as this.

In the absence of the proper officer, the consuls and all the surviving
officers took the oath, while it was agreed that six hundred knights
should be held as hostages until the Roman people had ratified the
treaty. Why Pontius did not insist on treating with the senate and
people of Rome at once, instead of trusting to them to ratify a treaty
made with prisoners of war, we are not told. He was soon to learn how
weak a reed to lean upon was the Roman faith.

The treaty made, the humiliating part of the affair came. The Roman
army was obliged to march under the yoke, which consisted of two spears
set upright and a third fastened across their tops. Under this the
soldiers of the legions without their arms, and wearing but a single
article of clothing,--the campestre or kilt, which reached from the
waist to the knees,--passed in gloomy succession. Even the consuls we