The Ideas of March

Olivea Carrigan

Everybody knew what was going to happen that day, except for me apparently. And of course Julius Caesar himself, but I doubt any man would know about a plot that would result in his own death. I thought the senator ‘s meeting was going to be one like any other day, full of arguments and reaching zero agreements, only when Caesar would dive in and declare something final. But it seems like one of his final declarations would be the one to get himself killed. It is such a shame the way leaders act in these times. I mean, who just out right declares themselves “ruler for life” if they don’t have a death wish anyway? Such a shame.

Regardless, I knew at least something was off that day the minute the senate meeting wasn’t in our usual beautiful place in the city. The Roman Forum was under construction per Ceasar’s request… so we were in the Senate House of Pompey that cold Martius morning. It was still winter after all. The Senate House was also a theater, which is kind of ironic looking back… as if Caesar was meant to be there, up in front of hundreds of senators only to be stabbed to death on a stage. On a pedestal of his own design…

I was shivering and sleepy as I walked along the cobblestone streets, I had woken up slightly earlier to make my way over to the Senate House. The sleep in my eyes was heavy along with the scrolls and tablets I carried in my arms and in my satchel. I hadn’t tied my toga correctly and it dragged on the ground behind me… oh how the senators would laugh at me if they saw me now. Just the simple thought of the highly qualified senators seeing me in this state sent me into a mild panic. I decided to stop and take in my surroundings. Just outside a pavilion square, a beautiful fountain sat in its middle and people bustled around the square quietly in the early morning light. I made my way over to the fountain to collect myself.

I was still pretty young back then. A young, spry man using his talents to serve his duties to the Senate and even the greatest leader of Rome. I placed my belongings next to the fountain and adjusted my toga… if only the senators could see my talents being more useful than just being their mere servant. I could read! I could write! I could do so much more for the Senate if they just let me… but alas, I was just there like many other bright men to write down their thoughts and their ideas and their politics. My toga was no longer touching the ground, I exhaled proudly at myself. Leaning over the fountain I caught my reflection. My hair was a little longer than what’s typical for a man in the senate but again… I was young. Locks of light brown, curly hair were tucked behind my ears. My wife had given me a small bushel from an olive branch for good luck that morning that I held gingerly in my hands. I tucked the small cluster of leaves behind one of my ears as I pondered my reflection. I exhaled again and collected my things, my satchel now sat more securely by my side and the other scrolls sat comfortably in my arms… I thought that day was going to be a good day for the Senate.

***

It was already midday and nothing had been accomplished. That should have been my first sign something was wrong… but alas, I am a fool. Caesar was extremely late to the meeting which was very odd for a man like him. I had never talked to Caesar personally before, but working in the senate gave me enough time to see him in action… and this was very unlike him. I sat in the front row of the theater with my overseer: Lucius Tillius Cimber. An intimidating aged man, he had a square face and eyes that could freeze you with one glance… I sat quietly beside him as the Senate House buzzed with unrest. Caesar had just arrived and was talking with his close advisors near the door… Why was the meeting not starting? We were already so late as it was. I fidgeted nervously with my papyrus scroll and wooden stylus.

“Marcus!” I froze. Cimber’s voice was like a gust of icy wind in my ears. “If you do not stop with your fruitless movements, I believe we are going to have an issue.” More ice froze to my brain.

“Yes Cimber, my apologies.” I winced internally and remained still.

That should have been the second sign that something was wrong that day, Cimber was usually blunt and direct, but never like this. His stare might have been paralyzing, but in a mighty way. That day, his stare was just cold. More time passed of useless and nervous chatter around the Senate House as I remained seated next to Cimber. The building overall was cold, but again, it was still winter. The marble underneath me sucked all of the warmth from my body. I should have worn my warmer toga… I shivered.

Finally, Caesar made his way to his seat at the front of the pavilion and others followed suit. They fell in line and took their sets in the theater, all facing our fearless leader. The theater quieted and I relaxed where I sat, the hushed voices bringing some sense of peace to me. I was ready for the day’s work to begin… finally. I readied my stylus and ink as the theater settled into complete silence. I inhaled slowly and exhaled quickly. Relaxing was certainly not my first mistake of that day.

The third thing that was wrong that day that should have warned me something tragic was about to happen, was Cimber’s immediate stand from his seated position as the room quieted. Cimber was always known to get things started on the occasion but he seemed… eager today. I brushed away my anxiety for once and simply prepared myself to write what he was about to say. I had a rough morning… I simply just wanted to fall into my work.

“Good morning Caesar, our excellency,” Cimber’s voice boomed around the marble amphitheater, “or perhaps I should say good afternoon?” My head snapped up and away from my scroll. I did not write. I stared up at Cimber standing above me. Something was wrong.

“I know this might be of a personal topic, but I think perhaps we should start by discussing the whereabouts of your brother,” Cimber continued “Nero Julius Caesar.”

I finally realized something was definitely wrong. Nero had been exiled from Rome years ago.

Everything I can remember after that is horribly clear. Etched into my mind’s eyes all too well. Cimber’s irrefutably, clearly insulting remark to Caesar caught me so off guard I couldn’t write. My brain went numb and I don’t remember hearing anything as Cimber started to slowly make his way towards Caesar, not even his footsteps, slow and calculated on the solid marble floor. In fact I didn’t hear any of the senator’s footsteps as more and more of them started to creep towards Caesar. Everything was moving painfully slowly, as if moving up stream in the River Styx down in Pluto’s realm. The senators began to crowd him – Caesar, our undying, untouchable, leader, so fearless in all moments except this one – I could hear Caesar protesting at their gathering, I could see his eyes filling with anger and fear that his followers continued to not obey him. He tried and tried to dismiss them back to their places, but none would listen. His efforts were in vain. Caesar stood and started shouting to his senators. His senators shouted back, insisting that they know the whereabouts of Nero. Everything was muffled in my ears. The echoing of their voices blurred my vision. 

Nero. Nero. Nero… Why Nero? Why did they need to know about Nero? Then it all happened too quickly. Cimber, my mentor, grabbed Caesar by the toga and another senator produced and dagger and-

He… he drove into Caesar’s side. Chaos erupted like a battalion suddenly being commanded to charge. The shouting of the senators filled my ears and suddenly everything was too loud. My hand flew to my mouth as I kept myself from screaming or crying out as I watched in horror what was happening before me. More and more daggers produced themselves from the swarm of senators. The daggers shined like beacons in the cold winter daylight as they all began to slash and stab at Ceasar. Daylight reflecting and shining off of every single one. Caesar… so untouchable was now being tainted and slane, toga becoming soaked with… with blood. 

I could watch no more. Snapped out of my shock, I moved as quickly as I could to the floor. I fell to my knees, hunched over and my hands flew to my head in order to block my ears, I shut my eyes tightly. I did not want to hear the shouting and the screaming and the chaos… But it was so loud and I could sense it all around me. I could feel the footsteps of other frightened senators running and shouting as they fled the building. But I remained there, frozen to the cold marble floor out of fear. I think some would say I am a coward… but a man being savagely murdered in front of you changes you in more ways than one. Tears started to fill my shut eyes. I don’t know how long I stayed like that… but it felt like a millennium.

Sheepishly I opened my eyes, my vision now even more blurred from my tears. The shouting became scarce as the Senate House emptied, less voices filling the House with their terror, but their echos became more clear. Senators now ran away from the ultimate sin they had committed. I breathed shakily. On the floor in front of me was the small olive branch my wife had given me that morning. It had fallen from behind my ear and was now sitting in a small pool of wet tears. Hesitantly I looked up… and there he lay, to command Rome no more. Toga and body defiled with blood and cuts with one single dagger remaining in his thigh. Without looking away from the mess of a man before me, dead on his pedestal, I grabbed the olive leaves from the floor and ran. Tears streamed down my face but not a sound left my mouth besides my labored breathing as I fled. I clutched the leaves as I ran back to my home. Back to my wife. 

I never set foot in the Senate House of Pompey again.