Julius Caesar (2 page)

‘Because Caesar was offered the crown
again
,' said Casca, with a snort. ‘In fact, he
was offered the crown three times. I've never seen anything like it.'

‘None of us have,' said Cassius, glancing at Brutus. ‘Who offered it to him?'

‘Why, Mark Antony, of course,' said Casca. ‘But I think it was all just play-acting. Each time Mark Antony offered Caesar the crown, Caesar made a big show of waving it away, although the last time he let his eyes linger on it for quite a while. The crowd thought this was all wonderful, of course, and might even have made him accept the crown in the end. But then Caesar fainted.'

‘What do you mean, he fainted?' said Cassius, surprise in his voice.

‘He fell down and foamed at the mouth, and couldn't speak,' said Casca.

‘
That
wasn't play-acting,' said Brutus. ‘Few people know it, but Caesar has the falling sickness, and often has fits. What did he say when he recovered?'

‘Only that his illness was to blame if he had
done or said anything wrong,' said Casca, shrugging. ‘And he asked everyone to forgive him. Which they did, of course. There is some other news, though. Flavius and Marullus have been arrested for taking down the decorations that were put up to honour Caesar…'

The men talked for a while longer, but at last they said their farewells. Brutus went home, and Casca to dinner with some friends, leaving Cassius alone by the temple. It was almost evening and the sky had clouded over, but Cassius barely noticed. He was thinking about his conversation with Brutus, and working out what to do next. Cassius had long known that Caesar was suspicious of him, and also that Brutus and Caesar were friends. But now it was clear that Brutus wasn't happy with the way things were going. Cassius smiled. A little more effort and Brutus would be on the right side, no doubt about it. ‘Caesar might think he's safe now,' Cassius murmured. ‘But we'll shake him before we're done.'

Cassius strode off. There were people he had to see, plotting to be done.

Thunder boomed and lightning flashed as darkness fell, chasing the tired crowds from the streets. Strange things were seen, too – fire dropping from the sky, a slave holding up a hand that seemed to burn like twenty torches but left the man's skin unharmed. And on his way home later that night, Casca met a lion by the Capitol, the building where the Senate met. It stared at him, then walked on by.

Later, Casca bumped into Cassius in a dark street, and told him all about it.

‘What a dreadful night!' he said. A cold breeze swept around them, and Casca shivered. ‘It's almost as if the gods are trying to tell us something.'

‘They're warning us, Casca,' said Cassius. ‘I could name a certain man who is like this dreadful night, a man who has become dangerous and difficult…'

‘You mean Caesar, don't you?' murmured
Casca. Thunder cracked above them as if to answer his question, and a spear of lightning split the sky. ‘I heard at dinner that he is going to the Senate tomorrow to be made our king.'

‘I'll need to wear my dagger then,' said Cassius. ‘Caesar is a wolf, and that's because he thinks we Romans are sheep. But at least some of us are going to do something about it. Give me your hand if you're willing to join us.'

‘Gladly,' said Casca, and they shook hands. ‘But what about Brutus? Our cause would be much stronger if such a respected man were on our side.'

‘Don't worry,' said Cassius. ‘He's three quarters persuaded already. But come, it's past midnight. Let's meet again before sunrise, at Brutus' house.'

They parted once more and went their separate ways, knowing that tomorrow would be the most fateful of days.

 

Brutus paced up and down in his garden, unable to sleep, his mind racing, a couple of small oil lamps casting a fitful glow and keeping the shadows at bay. He went over his conversation with Cassius again and again, teasing out all its hidden meanings and implications. Although the truth was he'd been thinking the same thing as Cassius for some time. Caesar was a huge problem for the Republic, and something would have to be done about him. But what?

‘He must die,' Brutus said quietly to himself at last. He stood still, holding that thought for a moment. He had nothing personal against Caesar. Anything he and Cassius did would be for the good of Rome. But how could they justify such an act to the people? The masses loved Caesar, and up until now they had no reason to complain. He had been very careful not to play the tyrant to them.

But of course all that might change if Caesar became their king. Men often put on a show of
being meek and mild as they climbed the ladder of ambition. Then, once they reached the top, they revealed their true selves. They had to stop that happening with Caesar. They would tell the people he was a baby serpent in its egg, waiting to hatch into a monster. Far better to kill him now while still in the shell…

Suddenly, Brutus heard a noise, someone knocking on his door. He looked up, but the sky was full of storm clouds blotting out the stars and he couldn't tell how soon it would be day. It was certainly too late, or too early, for visitors.

‘Lucius!' he said, calling out to his servant. ‘Go and see who that is.'

The servant scurried off to do his master's bidding, and Brutus went back to his dark thoughts, brooding on what he knew had to be done, uneasy with his decision. It felt as if his mind was at war with itself, and he was trapped in a strange dream. But he was determined to carry this through.

Just then Lucius returned. ‘It's your friend
Cassius, sir,' he said. ‘There are others with him, but I don't know who they are. They've all half-covered their faces with their cloaks.'

‘So, the plotters have arrived,' said Brutus. ‘They must be very nervous if they feel the need to disguise themselves even at night… Let them in, Lucius.'

A few moments later Lucius showed the men inside, and they uncovered their faces. Brutus knew Cassius, of course, and Casca, and he recognised the others, too – Decius and Cinna, Metellus and Trebonius, all members of the Senate.

‘We're sorry to trouble you at this time of night, Brutus,' said Cassius. The others looked on, saying nothing. ‘Can you and I talk privately for a moment?'

‘Of course,' said Brutus. ‘And don't worry, I wasn't in bed.'

Brutus and Cassius went off to a dark corner of the garden and whispered together for a while. Eventually Brutus gave a small nod. He
had thrown in his lot with the plotters – Caesar was to die that morning in the Senate, and Brutus would be one of the assassins. He and Cassius soon returned to the others.

‘Let us shake hands,' Brutus said solemnly. ‘Each man with all the rest.'

‘We should swear an oath,' said Cassius. But Brutus shook his head.

‘We don't need to, Cassius,' he said. ‘We're Romans, and our word should be our bond.' Brutus talked for quite some time, explaining why Cassius had been wrong. Cassius flushed slightly as he waited for Brutus to finish.

‘Well then, who else shall we try and persuade to join us?' Cassius said, changing the subject. ‘What about Cicero? He would be a real asset.'

Several of the others agreed, especially Casca. Brutus, however, didn't.

‘Fine, we'll leave Cicero out, then,' muttered Cassius with a scowl, irritation in his voice. The others hurried to agree with Brutus, Casca included.

‘There is something else,' said Decius. ‘Will Caesar be the only one to die?'

‘Good question, Decius,' said Cassius. ‘We should get rid of Mark Antony, too. He's a clever man, and even on his own he could be a real threat to us.'

‘I don't think so,' Brutus said firmly. ‘Mark Antony is only interested in drinking and parties. Besides, killing him as well as Caesar would be going too far – the people will think we're no more than butchers. All we want is to prevent Caesar from becoming a tyrant, and I wish we could do it without spilling his blood. But as there's no other way, let's at least carve him like a dish fit for the gods, not a piece of meat for the dogs. Then the people will see that our cause is noble – we're getting rid of Caesar for the good of Rome.'

Cassius kept trying to argue for Mark Antony's death, but Brutus would have none of it. A distant owl hooted and Brutus looked up at the night sky again.

‘Morning won't be long now,' he said. ‘Perhaps it's time we parted…'

‘It's too early,' said Cassius. ‘Caesar will still be at home, and he may not even go to the Senate today. He has become quite superstitious lately, and the strange things that have happened tonight might already have put him off.'

‘Don't worry,' Decius said eagerly. ‘I'll go over to his house and persuade him to come. He can never resist a little flattery, and I know just what to say.'

‘Good idea,' said Cassius. ‘We'll give you some time and meet you there. We'll leave you, Brutus, and let us remember that we are Romans!'

‘Yes, and remember to look cheerful, too,' said Brutus. ‘We don't want our faces to give away what's truly in our hearts. I bid you all good day, friends. If you see the noble Caius Ligarius, send him to me. He will join us, I'm sure.'

The conspirators left the garden, hurrying out into the dark streets of the city once more. Brutus called for Lucius, but the boy did not appear. ‘He must have gone to sleep,' he thought enviously. ‘The boy has no cares or worries to keep him awake, like me. No matter, let him enjoy the sweetness of slumber.'

‘Brutus, my lord,' said a voice behind him. Brutus was startled from his dark thoughts and turned round. His wife Portia had come into the garden.

‘What are you doing outside, Portia?' he said, going over to her. ‘You know you shouldn't be in the night air. Why, you'll catch your death of cold.'

‘I'm worried about you, Brutus,' said Portia. ‘You haven't been sleeping, and then at supper last night you suddenly jumped up and started walking about, muttering and sighing. When I asked you what was wrong, you stared at me as if I wasn't there, and then you grew cross and waved me away. So I left you alone, hoping it
was just some passing mood that has stopped you eating, talking, sleeping. But it isn't, is it? Tell me what's making you like this!'

‘I haven't been feeling well, that's all,' said Brutus, not meeting her gaze.

‘I don't believe it,' said Portia. ‘I've seen you ill, and this is different.'

‘I promise I'll be fine, Portia,' said Brutus. ‘Now please, go back to bed.'

‘Not until you tell me the truth,' said Portia. ‘You're not sick – something is playing on your mind and upsetting you. Does it have anything to do with those men who came to see you tonight? There were six or seven of them, and I saw that they had hidden their faces. You shouldn't keep secrets from your wife. Tell me what's going on! Or do our wedding vows mean nothing to you? I won't give anything away, I swear it. You know you can rely on me.'

‘You are my wife, as dear to me as life,' said Brutus. ‘I wish the gods could make me worthy of you.' Just then there was more knocking on
the door. ‘Go inside, Portia, quickly now. I'll join you in a while and reveal everything.'

Portia left him reluctantly and soon Lucius – awake once more – brought in yet another man with his face half-covered by his cloak. ‘Leave us, boy,' Brutus growled, turning to the man, and Lucius did as he was told. ‘Is that you, Caius Ligarius? How are you feeling?' Brutus knew Caius Ligarius had been unwell.

‘Yes, it's me, Brutus,' said Caius Ligarius, pulling the cloak away from his face. He coughed and blew his nose. ‘And I don't feel great, to be honest.'

‘That's a shame,' murmured Brutus. ‘This is not a good time to be sick.'

Caius Ligarius gave him a shrewd look. ‘I think I could get better if you wanted me to,' he said. ‘Does the noble Brutus have a great exploit in mind?'

‘I do, my friend,' said Brutus. ‘Rome, too, is sick, but we're going to cure it.'

‘I have a feeling that means someone is
going to end up feeling quite ill,' said Caius Ligarius. ‘No matter – if
you
say it needs to be done, so be it.'

Thunder boomed above them, and lightning flashed, the same lightning that Caesar watched as he stood by a window in his house. The room was large and full of rich furniture. Caesar was in his nightgown, and a slave stood nearby.

‘Neither heaven nor earth has been at peace tonight,' Caesar muttered. Even his wife Calpurnia had been restless. She had cried out the same thing three times in her sleep:
Help! Caesar is being murdered!
His nerves were already on edge, and that certainly hadn't helped. There was a huge amount at stake, and Caesar needed some reassurance. ‘Tell the priests to make a sacrifice,' he told the slave. ‘Then come straight back and report to me what they have to say about my chances of success at the Senate today.'