One might think that Turia had already had her full share of trouble and danger, but there is much more to come.  About this time she had to defend herself against another attack, not indeed on her person, but on her rights as an heiress.  An attempt was made by her relations to upset her father’s will, under which she and Lucretius were appointed equal inheritors of his property.  The result of this would have been to make her the sole heiress, leaving out her husband and her married sister; but she would have been under the legal tutela or guardianship of persons whose motive in attacking the will was to obtain administration of the property.[245] No doubt they meant to administer it for their own advantage; and it was absolutely necessary that she should resist them.  How she did it her husband does not tell us, but he says that the enemy retreated from his position, yielding to her firmness and perseverance (constantia).  The patrimonium came, as her father had intended, to herself and her husband; and he dwells on the care with which they dealt with it, he exercising a tutela over her share, while she exercised a custodia over his.  Very touchingly he adds, “but of this I leave much unsaid, lest I should seem to be claiming a share in the praise that is due to you alone.”

When Lucretius returned to Italy, apparently pardoned by Caesar for the part he had taken against him, the marriage must have been consummated.  Then came the murder of the Dictator, which plunged Italy once more into civil war, until in 43 Antony Octavian and Lepidus made their famous compact, and at once proceeded to that abominable work of proscription which made a reign of terror at Rome, and spilt much of the best Roman blood.  The happiness of the pair was suddenly destroyed, for Lucretius found himself named in the fatal lists.[246] He seems to have been in the country, not far from Rome, when he received a message from his wife, telling him of impending peril that he might have to face at any moment, and warning him strongly against a certain rash course—­perhaps an attempt to escape to Sextus Pompeius in Sicily, a course which cost the lives of many deluded victims.  She implored him to return to their own house in Rome, where she had devised a secure hiding-place for him.  She meant no doubt to die with him there if he were discovered.

He obeyed his good genius and made for Rome, by night it would seem, with only two faithful slaves.  One of these fell lame and had to be left behind; and Lucretius, leaning on the arm of the other, approached the city gate.  Suddenly they became aware of a troop of soldiers issuing from it, and Lucretius took refuge in one of the many tombs that lined the great roads outside the walls.  They had not been long in this dismal hiding when they were surprised by a party of tomb-wreckers—­ghouls who haunted these roads by night and lived by robbing tombs or travellers.  Luckily they wanted rather to rob