The climax was at hand. A strange, loud clangour beat upon the ear, pierced by the wailing cry of weeping women. The dreamer heard the tramp of many feet; then saw a long and closely packed procession emerging from the centre of the city. Slowly and solemnly the multitude advanced. The first section of the great procession reached the narrower road which wound amid the trees that beautified the Hill of Sul. High up on the barer slopes of the great hill stood out the jutting rock from which the sculptor was to take his last long gaze upon the sunlit world. A band of lictors headed the procession. Behind them, with head erect, walked Lucius Flaccus on the road to death. The trees swayed gently in the morning breeze, the birds were singing in the groves; the glory of the summer decked the land. Yet the tenderness of nature and all the splendour of the world seemed but to mock the tragedy of that slow procession. On every side was life, life, strong, abundant, free; but this one lonely man, bare-headed and white-faced, who climbed the hill, had done with life. With each step of the slow advance he drew nearer and nearer to the gate of death. The second part of the procession was lead by twelve Salii, each of whom carried a shield on his left arm and a javelin in his right hand. They were dressed in habits striped with purple, girded with broad belts, and clasped with buckles of brass. On their heads they wore helmets which terminated in a point. From these men the clangour came. Sometimes they sang in concert a hymn to Sul; sometimes they advanced with dancing step, beating time with their javelins on their shields. Next came many mourners, women and children, weeping and wringing their hands as in a funeral procession; and then a closely-curtained litter, with priests on either hand followed by the Pontifex, magnificently habited and carrying a staff or sceptre in his hand. Priestesses, with bowed heads and clasped hands, followed the Pontifex. Then came another body of lictors, followed by a miscellaneous multitude of citizens and their families; and, finally, a tall centurion leading a company of soldiers. The road grew steeper, narrower, winding round the hill; and the first body of lictors, with their prisoner, had passed out of view of the company that followed, when suddenly arose a violent outcry and the clash of arms. The sculptor had turned upon his guard, seized a javelin from one of them, and mounted the steep bank beside the road. The whole procession halted in confusion. Disconcerted priests whispered and gesticulated; the crowd closed up and filled the narrow way from side to side. "Romans! hear me!" The appeal, in high-pitched, fervent tones, came from Lucius Flaccus, and was not unanswered by the people: "Hear him! let him speak!"