Mythology Competition
In the Classics department, we were excited to participate in the Classical Assocation’s Mythology Competition for Years 7 and 8. This involved taking the well-known myth of Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome, and completing a creative task of their choice.
Across the year groups, we had four entries. Aaron (Year 8) wrote a fantastic piece of dramatic monologue from the perspective of Remus, the murdered brother of Romulus. Rishit (Year 7) wrote an great poem about the founding of Rome. Reuben (Year 7) wrote a super poem about the brothers. Raahul (Year 7) created a brilliant video, which he edited and narrated himself, on the story of Romulus and Remus.
These pieces have been submitted to the Classical Association, and we wish them all the best of luck!
Millennia ago, he was my brother.
It is a long story. Far too long to tell anyone. But the sun is shining and I do not ache as much. So, perhaps I will try to tell it. It is not the tale of Rome.
No, it is the tale of two brothers.
I do not know much of my birth and infancy. I do not know why we were floated down the Tiber as infants. I do, however, remember the sound of the river as it engulfed me and my brother, both of us giggling and burbling in the face of death. I remember the love I felt for him and the certainty that we would be together, always. I was watching his face, reaching towards him with my stubby hands; then, we found ourselves on land. As my brother and I stumbled and dawdled, alternately tripping over grass and ourselves, we found a cave and- in it- a she-wolf.
Lupa.
You know of her.
I think my brother made sure of that. We would go around town, proudly proclaiming that we were ‘the children of Mars, the great god of war! We were reared by a wolf, who dares challenge us?’. I think that we came up with that to draw attention away from the fact that we here herding sheep for the poor shepherd who had adopted us.
Our words worked, with a growing crowd of ‘friends’ amassing besides us. Listening to us and playing with us- following us.
On some days we would just escape it all, disappearing into the woods for hours on end. We would while away the time. We would count birds, which my brother would always declare made us ‘augurs’. We would also pretend that we were mighty emperors, each with our own empire. He picked a name for his one pretty quickly: Rome. I was hard-stuck for finding a name for mine. (Rema? Remos?)
Romulus would make up events and court cases and how his empire would evolve; I, in my bitterness, would provide a counterpoint to each of his ideas.
I didn’t even notice when our childish games became ‘real’.
When our fanciful politics became ‘real’.
When we were given the power snatched away from us as children.
When my brother finally brought to fruition his grand designs.
When he ceased being my brother and became an opponent. When my verbal jabs became something his supporters would take offense to.
I still hope it was one of his supporters.
I still hope it wasn’t him holding the knife.
Ready to avenge the glory of Rome from my insult.
Though I still feel pure anger when I remember that he is a god and I toil and do nothing in Asphodel.
Though I still see his face, every time I close my eyes, wielding a dagger and readying to plunge it deep into my body.
Though I know it is not the truth.
Why?
For, millennia ago, he was my brother.
Aaron (Year 8)