Coriolanus Act 1.4.11

Scene 1.4.11

The Volsces

Tullus Aufidius staggered to his beaten army. They had regrouped at the far side of the city, and were tending to their wounded. The mood was somber and the commanders were in despairs.

They had lost the war. More to that they had lost control of Corioli.

“The city is taken!’ Aufidius shouted with his voice hoarse from thirst after he had released the wounded trooper which he had lent his shoulder to get there. He himself was wounded in some places, but they were not of fatal wounds. He looked to the defeated looks on his army that had heard his call, but would not rally to him.

“It will be delivered back on good condition.” A trooper seated on the ground with his knees drawn up replied to the Commander. Aufidius glared at the trooper and was kick at him had he not composed his emotions. He stepped forth to looked at the others who were ignoring him there as their Commander.

“Condition!” Aufidius raised once more his voice. “I would I were a Roman, for I cannot being a Volsces be that I am.”

Audifius was trying infused in those poor bastards the pride of being a Volsces, but they continued to look at him with dejected looks 

“Condition!” Aufidius raised his voice once more. “What good condition can a treaty find with the part is at mercy? Five times, Marcius, I have fought with thee, so often has thou beat me. And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter as often as we eat.”

“By the elements,” Aufidius looked to the skies for strength of vengeance. “If ever again, I meet him beard to beard, he’s mine or I am his. Mine hath not that honor isn’t it had; for where I thought to crush him in an equal force, sword to sword, I’ll kill him some way, or wrath or craft may get him.” The last words of Aufidius were the intervention of the elements to bear their fury on his foe.

“He’s the devil.” The seated trooper voiced out.

“Bolder, though not so subtle.” Aufidius looked to the trooper for the plain accusation on the other. “My valor poisoned with only suffering stains by him, for him shall fly out of me.  Nor sleep or sanctuary, being naked, sick nor temple nor Capitol, the prayers of priests nor the times of sacrifice, embarguements all of fury shall lift up their rotten privileges and customs against my hate to Marcius. Where I find him, were it at home, upon my brother’s guard, even there against the hospitable canon, would I wash my hand in his heart.”

The long line of curses that Aufidius spoke of was as if he would proceed to Hell to exert his vengeance on Marcius. Such was the hate in him for the other.

“Go you to the city. Learn how it’s held.” Aufidius commanded the seated trooper. “What they are that must the hostage of Rome.”

“Will not you go?” The trooper asked of his Commander.

“I am attended at the cypress groove; I pray you this south of the city.” Aufidius looked to his wounds. He needed some medication lest he went down with infections. “Bring me the word thither how the world goes, that to the pace of it, I may spur your journey.”

“I shall, Sir.” The trooper pushed himself up and dragged his weary frame to oblige his Commander.

The war had ended that day.

The Romans had won once more.

The Volsces shamed with defeat had taken to sign one more treaty with the Romans.

The shame of signing the treaty was no greater than to see their borders shrunken by the indomitable Romans.

Such was the price to be paid by the defeated army.