After the engagement had thus been fought, so great a terror seized Tarquinius and the Etruscans, that both armies, the Veientine and Tarquinian, abandoning the attempt as a fruitless one, departed by night to their respective homes.  Strange incidents are also reported in the account of this battle—­that in the stillness of the next night a loud voice was heard from the Arsian wood;[5] that it was believed to be the voice of Silvanus.  That the following words were uttered:  that more of the Tuscans by one man had fallen in the fight:  that the Romans were victorious in the war.  Under these circumstances, the Romans departed thence as conquerors, the Etruscans as practically conquered.  For as soon as it was light, and not one of the enemy was to be seen anywhere, Publius Valerius, the consul, collected the spoils, and returned thence in triumph to Rome.  He celebrated the funeral of his colleague with all the magnificence possible at the time.  But a far greater honour to his death was the public sorrow, especially remarkable in this particular, that the matrons mourned him for a year as a parent, because he had shown himself so vigorous an avenger of violated chastity.  Afterward, the consul who survived—­so changeable are the minds of the people—­after enjoying great popularity, encountered not only jealousy, but suspicion, that originated with a monstrous charge.  Report represented that he was aspiring to kingly power, because he had not substituted a colleague in the room of Brutus, and was building on the top of Mount Velia:[6] that an impregnable stronghold was being erected there in an elevated and well-fortified position.  These reports, widely circulated and believed, disquieted the consul’s mind at the unworthiness of the charge; and, having summoned the people to an assembly, he mounted the platform, after lowering the fasces.  It was a pleasing sight to the multitude that the insignia of authority were lowered before them, and that acknowledgment was made, that the dignity and power of the people were greater than that of the consul.  Then, after they had been bidden to listen, the consul highly extolled the good fortune of his colleague, in that, after having delivered his country, he had died while still invested with the highest rank, fighting in defence of the commonwealth, when his glory was at its height, and had not yet turned to jealousy.  He himself (said he) had outlived his glory, and only survived to incur accusation and odium:  that, from being the liberator of his country, he had fallen back to the level of the Aquilii and Vitellii.  “Will no merit then,” said he, “ever be so approved in your eyes as to be exempt from the attacks of suspicion?  Was I to apprehend that I, that bitterest enemy of kings, should myself have to submit to the charge of desiring kingly power?  Was I to believe that, even though I should dwell in the citadel and the Capitol itself, I should be dreaded by my fellow-citizens?  Does my character among you depend on so mere a trifle?