Julius Caesar (3 page)

The Romans believed their priests could work out what the future might bring by sacrificing
animals and studying their entrails and internal organs for signs.

‘I will, my lord Caesar,' said the slave, and ran off just as Calpurnia came in.

‘Are you staying at home today, husband?' she asked. She was in her nightgown, too, and her face was deathly pale and drawn. ‘I think you should.'

‘Caesar will go out!' he growled, proudly squaring his shoulders and raising his chin. ‘Caesar has always faced his enemies, not hidden from them.'

‘Please, Caesar,' said Calpurnia. ‘I'm not usually superstitious, but the strange things that have happened tonight have frightened me – they say that graves split open and the dead walked, and that fiery warriors fought in the clouds.'

‘I refuse to worry,' said Caesar, turning to look out at the darkened city again. ‘The Gods have determined all our fates, so there's nothing I can do about mine. Death comes when it will.
Besides, these omens might have nothing to do with me – they could be meant for anyone.'

‘But it's only when beggars die that no marvels are seen,' said Calpurnia, tears in her eyes. ‘Heaven itself blazes out for the death of a great man!'

‘Calm yourself, my love,' said Caesar, smiling. ‘It never pays to be afraid. Cowards die in their minds many times over before death actually takes them. The brave die only once…' Just then the slave hurried back into the room and knelt before his master. ‘Well, what do the priests say?' Caesar asked.

‘They advise you to stay at home today, Caesar,' said the slave. ‘The signs aren't good. They killed a beast and cut it open, but could not find a heart.'

Caesar frowned and paced up and down the room, wondering what to do. The truth was that he felt unsettled, too, despite what he had just said to his wife. Perhaps it would be best to stay at home… But he was half-convinced
that the sacrifice meant the gods were telling him he should go to the Senate, or be thought a coward, a man without a heart. At last he made up his mind. ‘I'll stay at home, Calpurnia,' he said. ‘More for your sake than mine, of course.'

Just then Decius arrived, another slave ushering him into Caesar's presence. ‘Hail, Caesar!' said Decius. ‘I've come to take you to the Senate house.'

‘I'm glad you're here, Decius,' said Caesar. ‘You can pass on my good wishes to the senators, and tell them I'm not coming today.'

‘But why, Caesar?' said Decius. ‘Everyone will be so disappointed!'

‘Calpurnia had a bad dream,' said Caesar. ‘She saw a statue of me spouting blood like a fountain, and people washing their hands in it. She thinks it means something evil is going to happen, and she wants me to stay at home.'

‘I don't think that's the right way to interpret such a dream,' said Decius. ‘In fact, I think it probably means the opposite! It's telling you
that Rome will be revived after all its troubles by feeding on your strength and greatness.'

‘Do you really?' said Caesar. ‘Umm, I think you might have a point.'

‘And I'll tell you something else, Caesar,' said Decius. ‘The Senate has decided to make you our king today, but they might change their minds if you don't come. Perhaps they'll say you listen to your wife too much…'

‘That settles it!' Caesar muttered crossly. ‘Slave, fetch my toga! Your dreams and fears are foolish, Calpurnia. I am ashamed I listened to them. Caesar
will
go to the Senate, and look, here are some friends to accompany me!'

Brutus and the other conspirators had arrived, and Mark Antony, too.

‘Noble Caesar, the morning is upon us,' said Brutus, smiling. ‘It is time to leave.'

Soon Caesar set off, thinking this was the most important day of his life. And beside him walked Brutus, one hand inside his toga, holding a knife.

 

The usual noisy crowd was waiting outside the Senate when Caesar and the others came into view. There were the Senators, of course, standing in groups, laughing and talking as they waited for the day's session to begin, their togas as white as snow in the spring sunshine. Milling around them were people seeking favours, or those who had grievances they wanted raised in the Senate.

Caesar led the way up the steps to the front of the Senate house with its tall columns and great bronze doors beyond them. The crowd cheered wildly, parting before him like the sea when some monster of the deep cuts through the waves. Then he spotted the soothsayer from the day before, and stopped.

‘Well, the Ides of March has come, old man,' Caesar said to him, and turned to Mark Antony, grinning and winking.

Mark Antony grinned back at him.

‘Aye, it has, Caesar,' muttered the soothsayer. ‘But it's not yet gone.'

Caesar tutted, his grin instantly becoming a scowl. He turned on his heel and stomped off up the steps, then through the doors and into the Senate's main chamber, an immense room with rows of banked seating in circles around a large open space, the walls lined with statues of famous Romans. Most of the Senators had followed Caesar in, and soon he was surrounded by men in togas clamouring for his attention or trying to give him documents, letters, petitions.

‘Please, gentlemen, one at a time!' Mark Antony yelled.

Brutus and Cassius and the other conspirators were pushed to one side. They stood watching, their faces anxious, wondering what was being said to Caesar.

‘I'm worried about Popilius Lena,' hissed Cassius. ‘I think he knows what we're up to and is going to warn Caesar… Look, he's talking to him now.'

‘Relax, Cassius,' said Brutus, not taking his eyes off Caesar and the scrum of senators
around him. ‘Popilius is smiling, and Caesar doesn't seem worried.'

‘You're right,' said Cassius, relieved. ‘It will be fine, I'm sure it will.'

Their plan was simple, and now they put it into action, the conspirators quickly pushing through the crowd. One of them, Trebonius, talked to Mark Antony and drew him away while the rest gathered near Caesar. Metellus kept him occupied with a lengthy plea, loudly asking Caesar to pardon his brother Publius, whom Caesar had ordered into exile over some trivial matter. Caesar listened impatiently, while Casca quietly moved into position behind him.

‘Give up, Metellus,' said Caesar at last. ‘It's no good begging. Caesar is like the north star that always holds its place in the sky, and will not yield.'

‘You will yield to us now, tyrant!' Casca shouted. He pulled out the hidden knife from inside the folds of his toga – and stabbed Caesar in the back.

Caesar staggered, his face a mask of shock and horror, but there was no escape. Now all the plotters pulled out their knives and fell on him like wolves attacking a deer. The blades rose up and down, slicing into Caesar, his blood spraying across their white togas and splattering onto the marble floor. He tried to fight back, punching out with his fists and roaring. But then he saw Brutus and his courage seemed to drain from him. He had always thought of Brutus as a friend, and here he was with rest of them, a bloodied knife in his hand.

‘Even you, Brutus?' Caesar whispered, and slowly sank to the floor near the base of one of the statues. He pulled a fold of his toga over his head, and lay quite still as the assassins finished him off in a frenzy of stabbing and kicking.

‘Liberty! Freedom is restored!' yelled the conspirators, holding their knives up in triumph. ‘The tyrant is dead! Long live the Republic and the Senate!'

The Senate, however, was in total uproar,
the chamber emptying rapidly as most of the senators fled for their lives. Some stood their ground and yelled ‘Shame!' and ‘Murderers!' at the conspirators. Brutus dropped his knife and held out his hands to them, Caesar's blood still dripping from his fingers.

‘Stop, don't be frightened!' he shouted. ‘This ends with Caesar's death…'

But the remaining senators refused to listen and followed the rest out. There were distant screams in the streets, although suddenly an eerie hush filled the chamber. The conspirators stood staring down at Caesar's body, a dark pool of blood spreading from it across the marble floor and staining their sandals.

‘Well, what now?' said Cinna. They were all panting, their eyes wild.

‘We must all stand fast together,' said Metellus. ‘In case one of Caesar's –'

‘Look, here comes Trebonius,' said Cassius. ‘Where is Mark Antony?'

‘He has fled to his house, stunned by what
has happened,' said Trebonius. ‘The people are shocked, too – it's as if they think it's the end of the world.'

‘It's the end of Caesar's world, anyway,' said Brutus. ‘We should go to the Forum, raise our bloodied weapons and proclaim that as loudly as we can!'

‘We're heroes!' said Cassius, his eyes gleaming. ‘Why, men will act out this scene hundreds of years from now in places we've never even heard of.'

‘I'm sure you're right, Cassius,' said Brutus. ‘And they'll say Caesar ended his days at the feet of great Pompey after all – this is Pompey's statue.'

The conspirators looked up at the blank face of the statue, all of them feeling uneasy at such irony. But then Brutus heard a noise and turned round. A slave had entered the chamber. He approached Brutus and kneeled before him.

‘My master Mark Antony sent me, my lord,' said the slave, his head bowed. ‘He told me to
say he thought you were wise, noble, brave and honest. And that he would like to come and speak with you, if you give him safe passage.'

‘Your master is wise and brave, too,' said Brutus. ‘We would be happy to speak with him. He can come here, and be sure that he will leave untouched.'

‘Thank you, my lord, I'll fetch him now,' said the slave, and hurried off.

‘There, do you see?' Brutus said triumphantly, turning to the others. ‘Mark Antony doesn't want to be our enemy. I knew he'd come round to our way!'

‘I only hope you're right,' Cassius muttered darkly. ‘I still don't trust him…'

‘Sssh! Here he comes now,' hissed Brutus. ‘Welcome, Mark Antony.'

Mark Antony walked slowly across the chamber and stopped by Caesar's body. ‘Mighty Caesar,' he murmured, his voice almost breaking, his face pale, his eyes rimmed with red. ‘Have you fallen so low? Are all your
triumphs reduced to this?' He looked at the plotters. ‘I don't know what your intentions are, gentlemen,' he said. ‘But if you want to kill me, this is the best moment to do it. With great Caesar gone, I'll never be so ready to die as I am now.'

‘We don't want to kill you, Antony,' said Brutus, his voice soft. ‘I know you probably think we're bloody and cruel, but we only did this because our hearts were full of pity – pity for Rome. We have always thought of you as a friend.'

‘Yes, you could even have a say in who gets the best jobs,' said Cassius. ‘Everything will be up for grabs now, Antony, and we've got the advantage.'

‘But first we have to calm the people,' said Brutus, scowling at Cassius as if he thought his fellow plotter had gone too far. ‘Then I'll explain to you exactly why someone like me felt forced to do this deed. You know I loved Caesar.'

‘I have no doubt you acted from the best motives, Brutus,' said Mark Antony. ‘Let me shake your hands, all of you.'

Each of the plotters shook Antony by the hand, their faces solemn.

‘Perhaps you think I'm a coward,' he murmured at last. ‘And if your spirit is looking down on me, Caesar, how angry you must be to see me shaking their hands with your blood on their fingers. Forgive me, great Julius. You're like a noble stag that has been struck down by hunters…'

He turned to look at Caesar's corpse again, tears flowing down his cheeks.

Cassius took his arm and said, ‘Mark Antony –' but Antony shook him off.

‘I'll thank you not to interrupt my grieving, Cassius,' he snarled.

‘I'm not trying to,' said Cassius, stepping back. ‘I'd just like to be clear about your intentions. Are you really with us now? Can we count on your support?'

‘Did I say you couldn't?' said Antony. ‘I shook your hands in friendship. And if it's all the same to you, I would like to speak at Caesar's funeral.'

‘Of course you can,' said Brutus. Now it was Cassius's turn to scowl.

‘What in Jupiter's name are you doing, Brutus?' he whispered, pulling Brutus aside. ‘We can't let him do that. He might try to turn the people against us.'

‘I don't think so,' Brutus hissed back, annoyed. ‘It will look better for us if we make sure Caesar has a proper funeral, and Antony should be part of it. But don't worry, I'll speak first and explain to the people why we killed Caesar. And before Antony speaks I'll tell them he's only there with
our
permission.'