When day came, Fulvius was with difficulty roused from his drunken sleep by his partisans, who armed themselves with the spoils of war about his house, which he had taken after a victory over the Gauls during his consulship, and with much threatening and shouting went to seize the Aventine hill. Caius, on the other hand, was unwilling to arm himself, but went forth in his toga, as though on his way to the forum, with only a short dagger on his person.
As he was going out at the door, his wife threw herself in his way, and with one arm round her husband and the other round their little son, said:
‘Not to the rostra, 0 Caius, do I now send thee forth, as formerly, to serve as tribune and law-giver, nor yet to a glorious war, where, shouldst thou die (and all men must die), thou wouldst at all events leave me an honoured sorrow; but thou art exposing thyself to the murderers of Tiberius, and thou doest well to go unarmed, that thou mayest suffer rather than inflict wrong; but thy death will do the state no good.
The worst has at last prevailed; by violence and the sword men's controversies are now decided. If thy brother had only fallen at Numantia, his dead body would have been given back to us by terms of truce; but as it is, perhaps I too shall have to supplicate some river or sea to reveal to me at last thy body in its keeping. Why, pray, should men longer put faith in laws or gods, after the murder of Tiberius?’
While Licinia was thus lamenting, Caius gently freed himself from her embrace and went away without a word, accompanied by his friends. Licinia eagerly sought to clutch his robe, but sank to the ground and lay there a long time speechless, until her servants lifted her up unconscious and carried her away to the house of her brother Crassus.