(XIV) A few people were allowed to rest that night in Alba Longa. Who else was suffering terribly Aurelia Queen, accompanied only by the servant Tucci and heart stricken with grief, watched his son's body. While shedding tears for him, could not take your mind worries about the dangers that awaited her daughter, so young, so innocent and helpless. It also regretted not having better preserved the throne of her husband. What explanation would you give, how to be justified when he returned? And even more deeply felt the sting of pain because I could not even say that Numitor still alive.
The sleep fled from the sight of Criseyde, firebrands anger. Had gone to bed bearing the title of queen and behold, because of a stupid stinking pig augur that it might have simulated a favorable omen, CRIS remained dry. Clenched fists at the thought of her husband and his scruples. Much easier for everyone would have been that some gunmen had been killed on the road pretending Numitor thieves ...! Have followed his advice now with good wishes or not, would be kings. Hopefully Numitor had burst and the evil belly that she had seen to procure. 
Concern gave no respite to the Vestal Maxima Camilia in the house of the vestal virgins. Because of the isolation imposed Amulius the queen, he could tell just by sending a trusted messenger to warn the king Numitor and nothing else. And it was well, for he was very distraught and despite being unable to give definite information about Rhea Silvia. Since the beginning of this drama had tried to understand the reasons for the conduct of Amuli. If I wanted be king why he had not killed his brother? And if you do not want to soil their hands with blood why so brutally attacking his family? Camilia sensed that Rea needed to help find answers to these questions. 
Dawn rose tinted forest and sanctuary of Diana Nemorensis, Numitor where the king of Alba Longa had spent the night restless. Delivering on its promise, the priest of Diana was replaced by his henchmen to the servants of the king and he had stopped vomiting, but his skin was burning, still sweating and was sunk into a troubled doze. They had prepared a car for transport to the merits of straw, a mat on top and space so he could sit next to a companion. The carefully accommodated and the priest fired the motorcade. - do not stop for any reason or lose sight of the king - he warned. Go as fast as you can to make it Numitor's throne is in danger. And his life too. The gods want that is not too late.
Rea Silvia woke with a start with a hole in my heart. His brother. The pain came back with full sharpness after being placated during sleep. Beside Palantea slept peacefully, lying on its side and with folded hands under the cheeks. He realized then, as if he were cast on the face a bowl of cold water, the situation had been the shepherdess for his cause: he had lost to pigs and had not even returned to the cabin of his mistress from the day above. Kritubis could punish severely, and even reduce it to slavery and sell! The thought gave him a chill and felt even more indebted for their assistance. Try to compensate, by all means prevent that Palantea something bad happens. 
Soon, a diffuse light came in through the vents of the cave and announced the new day. The girls got up and called Espórtula, who made them up and drink hot soup. After a brief discussion, Rhea Silvia imposed its will over the wisdom they asked their friends attend the funeral of his brother mixed in the crowd. Tiznaría not face, but would clean and neat as possible, as a sign of respect, but would cover the head and face with a blanket provided by Espórtula. With a focus on rites, no one would be fixed public in it. The place of the ceremony was a clearing near the necropolis, a widening of the slope located at higher elevations than Alba Longa, outside the wall. Under the guidance of Alec, the three women, Rhea Silvia, Espórtula and Palantea, walked between the cabins of the highest part of the city until arriving near the western gate, where it would go. So many people marching in the same direction, forming a large group, easily crossed the gate of the wall.
Down below, on the waters of Lake Albano parade clouds driven by the breath of Favonius. The forests on the opposite bank is reflected in the tremor shook the airwaves. Like them, the heart of Rhea Silvia lived a quiet turmoil: the death of his brother clouded the beauty of spring in his soul obscured any hint of joy. And something moved inside, a nameless anxiety. Again and again gripped returned to the same questions: had done well to escape? Surrounded by people and in the light of day, fear of the day before seemed meaningless. All was confusion and sadness. 
Six funeral pyres rose the center of the esplanade. Occupying three sides, in training, waiting for hundreds of Albanians with their shields and spears, bronze helmets and breastplates of ox-hide. On the fourth side, facing the pyre, was a space reserved for the authorities. The rest of the audience would follow the ceremony perched on the slopes. From the distance they saw the funeral procession approaching. Opened the procession a group of young men in sheepskins. Carriers offerings and flutists preceded the corpses lying on the funeral bed. Behind them walked the Queen Aurelia flanked by Cris and Amuli. Seeing his mother, Rhea Silvia would have liked to run to meet him and hug. The others were Camilia and Vestal, the priest Latiaris Jupiter Shrine, members of the Council. All Rea knew from childhood. And each time it was more foolish not to be there with them. 
funeral beds deposited on the ground and the authorities took their places. With the horsehair crest on his helmet shaken by the wind, Amulius stepped forward to address the public. His stature pride, its carved bronze breastplate flashed when the clouds loomed a ray of sun, resembling a god. From where they could not hear his words, but should be very telling because the warriors I often cheered by colliding the spears against their shields. finished speaking, leaving aside the deceased would be buried and placed on the funeral pyres to warriors. Three times they were called by name before applying the torches that lit the fire. Viewing burn the body of his brother, Rhea Silvia felt strange, embarrassed. He had lost his life to defend it. And she, in place of honor as it should, what was there among the public, hiding their relationship, refusing to be of the same blood? What kept him from going to where his mother and mourn her? Began to recede slowly to separate from their companions without attracting attention.
