Romulus   

one Promathion says, who compiled a history of Italy.
But the story which is most believed and has the greatest number of
vouchers was first published, in its chief particulars, amongst the
Greeks by Diocles of Peparethus, whom Fabius Pictor also follows in
most points. Here again there are variations, but in general outline
it runs thus: the kings of Alba reigned in lineal descent from Aeneas,
and the succession devolved at length upon two brothers, Numitor and
Amulius. Amulius proposed to divide things into two equal shares,
and set as equivalent to the kingdom the treasure and gold that were
brought from Troy. Numitor chose the kingdom; but Amulius, having
the money, and being able to do more with that than Numitor, took
his kingdom from him with great ease, and, fearing lest his daughter
might have children, made her a Vestal, bound in that condition forever
to live a single and maiden life. This lady some call Ilia, others
Rhea, and others Silvia; however, not long after, she was, contrary
to the established laws of the Vestals, discovered to be with child,
and should have suffered the most cruel punishment, had not Antho,
the king's daughter, mediated with her father for her; nevertheless,
she was confined, and debarred all company, that she might not be
delivered without the king's knowledge. In time she brought forth
two boys, of more than human size and beauty, whom Amulius, becoming
yet more alarmed, commanded a servant to take and cast away; this
man some call Faustulus, others say Faustulus was the man who brought
them up. He put the children, however, in a small trough, and. went
towards the river with a design to cast them in; but, seeing the waters
much swollen and coming violently down, was afraid to go nearer, and
dropping the children near the bank, went away. The river overflowing,
the flood at last bore up the trough, and, gently wafting it, landed
them on a smooth piece of ground, which they now called Cermanus,
formerly Germanus, perhaps from Germani with signifies brothers.
Near this place grew a wild fig-tree, which they called Ruminalis,
either from Romulus (as it is vulgarly thought), or from ruminating,
because cattle did usually in the heat of the day seek cover under
it, and there chew the cud; or, better, from the suckling of these
children there, for the ancients called the dug or teat of any creature
ruma; and there is a tutelar goddess of the rearing of children whom
they still call Rumilia, in sacrificing to whom they use no wine,
but make libations of milk. While the infants lay here, history tells
us, a she-wolf nursed them, and a woodpecker constantly fed and watched
them; these creatures are esteemed holy to the god Mars; the woodpecker
the Latins still especially worship and honour. Which things, as much
as any, gave credit to what the mother of the children said, that
their father was the god Mars; though some say that it was a mistake
put upon her by Amulius, who himself had come to her dressed up in
armour.
Others think that the first rise of this fable came from the children's
nurse, through the ambiguity of her name; for the Latins not only
called wolves lupoe, but also women of loose life; and such an one
was the wife of Faustulus, who nurtured these children, Acca Larentia
by name. To her the Romans offer sacrifices, and in the month of April
the priest of Mars makes libations there; it is called the Larentian
Feast. They honour also another Larentia, for the following reason:
the keeper of Hercules's temple having, it seems, little else to do,
proposed to his deity a game at dice, laying down that, if he himself
won, he would have something valuable of the god; but if he were beaten,
he would spread him a noble table, and procure him a fair lady's company.
Upon these terms, throwing first for the god and then for himself,
he found himself beaten. Wishing to pay his stakes honourably, and
holding himself bound by what he had said, he both provided the diety
a good supper, and giving money to Larentia, then in her beauty, though
not publicly known, gave her a feast in the temple, where he had also
laid a bed, and after supper locked her in, as if the god were really
to come to her. And indeed, it is said, the deity did truly visit
her, and commanded her in the morning to walk to the marketplace,