A loud shout from the ranks of the Latins announces that the king is at hand, and soon Latinus appears in the center of the arena, seated in a four-horse car, and wearing his royal crown. Turnus follows close behind, sheathed in complete armor, and drawn by two snow-white steeds. Æneas stands ready to receive them; the victims are brought, the salted meal is sprinkled, and the sacred forelock cut off from the forehead of the victims. Then Æneas lifts up his hands, and makes a solemn appeal to Jupiter and Juno and Mars, and all the powers of earth and sky and sea: “Witness, all ye eternal gods, and hear my vow: if Turnus gains the mastery to-day the Trojans shall go back to Evander’s city, and never bear arms against this realm again; but if, as I hope and believe, Heaven favors my sword, I claim not the sovereignty of Latium, nor seek aught for myself and my people but the right to dwell here in peace as a friend and ally of the old inhabitants.” The oath was solemnly repeated by Latinus and ratified by sacrifice and prayer. But the combat was not to proceed without interruption. On a lofty hill, known in after days as the Alban Mount, sat Juno, watching the scene with jealous eyes. She observed with pity the pale and downcast face of Turnus, whose courage began to fail him as the fatal moment drew near; and, resolved to make one more effort on his behalf, she went in search of Juturna, a sister of Turnus, who had been raised to divine honors by the special favor of Jove, and made a presiding deity over the fountains and rivers of Latium. “Up, Juturna,” said the goddess, when she had found her sitting pensively by a dear fountain-head; “go help thy brother in his dire need. I can do no more.” Starting up at the summons Juturna made haste to obey, and a moment after she was standing invisible among the Rutulians who fought under Turnus. By their looks and words she soon perceived that they were ripe for mischief; and putting on the likeness of Camers, a brave warrior, and friend of Turnus, she gave voice to the general sentiment thus: “Are ye not ashamed, Rutulians, that one man should give his life for you all? Shall we, who outnumber the enemy by two to one, sit idly by and see our leader slain and a chain forged for our own necks?”