Caesar

We convened, as arranged, in Cassius' house, midway between the Kalends and the Ides.

I cannot now recall the precise date, but I recall, as if they were ranged before me now, the faces of my friends and colleagues. There were some I had reason to distrust: Quintus Ligarius and Galba were driven by personal resentment. They believed Caesar had insulted them. Cinna was a mean man, not to be trusted in a crisis. Trebonius, though a friend, I knew to be both rash and irresolute, a dangerous combination of qualities…

Many who were not present were cognisant of our intention, had been sounded out, had offered verbal support, would be with us if we succeeded. The dozen who were gathered that evening were the chiefs of what I suppose historians will call the conspiracy. I would reject the term: it has criminal connotations to my way of thinking. We were not criminals: we were executioners of just necessity.

Of all those present young Cato appeared the most nervous. Eager only a few days previously, urging on the deed with an enthusiasm his father could never have equalled, he now seemed pale, weary, filled with apprehension. He confided in me that he had been unable to sleep for several nights. He was oppressed by fear of failure — and of the revenge Caesar would certainly take.

'If we are brave and resolute, we shall not fail.'

I spoke with more confidence than I felt myself. That too was necessary. Doubt is infectious, soon transformed into panic. I remembered how Catiline and his friends had lost their nerve, when confronted by Cicero. (My father, as consul-designate, had been the first to demand the death penalty: to their consternation.) Well, we were no Catilines, no discredited and indebted riff-raff. We were among the chief men of Rome, most of us with great achievements, feats of arms, a record of good judgment, to our names. But then, Caesar was more than Cicero, or my poor father.

Casca gave me courage, supported my equanimity. His good sense had fortified me often; Casca was always sanguine. When, on our way to the meeting, I mentioned the possibility of failure to him — in terms quite different from those I would employ to Cato, he scoffed at my fears.

'Caesar is but a man, mere mortal man. He bleeds as readily as you or I.'

It was, however, the aftermath I feared most.

Markie had nerved himself to be with us. His long parade of doubt was at an end. For myself, I believe that his decision to join us was determined as much by fear of the contempt with which Porcia would regard his failure to do so, as from the sense of duty about which he endlessly prated. If so, that might be something to put to the credit of Cato's family, if it were not for the malign influence Markie had on our enterprise.

Cassius called us to order. He spoke briefly. His bearing was martial, his tone firm. He outlined the cogent reasons which had brought us together. He deplored the decadence of public spirit which had reduced the Republic to its sad condition.

'If Caesar's system of government were to be confirmed, then all that we know and love in Rome would wither, all that our fathers fought and died for would be no more, as, little by little, step by remorseless step, Rome will sink from view under the weight of an Oriental despotism. Our ancestors — the immediate ancestors of some here present — won the right to call no man 'King', no man 'Lord and Master'. We are called to act if we are not to be despised and hated by our descendants as the generation which, through apathy or cowardice, lost that right, and so condemned the Roman nobility to perpetual ignominy and subservience…

'If any man would dispute what I say, I shall not argue with him, but ask him to leave us now.'

No one moved, though young Cato trembled and looked as if he might be sick at any moment.

Metellus Cimber got to his feet.

'You have spoken for all of us, Cassius, and we are all of your mind.'

There was a murmur of assent.

'Nevertheless,' Cimber said — and my father-in-law frowned at the word — 'nevertheless, I would like to urge yet again what I have urged before: that we invite Cicero to be one of us. I have two reasons which I would ask you all to consider carefully.'

He coughed. Markie, I remember, was looking at him, with his mouth hanging open, a sign, known to me from childhood, that he was concentrating hard.

'In the first place,' Cimber said, 'Cicero's grey hairs will serve to make our cause appear absolutely respectable. It will help to convince the waverers, for they will say that if a man of Cicero's experience, virtue and reputation has associated himself with us, then our deed must be justified. If we neglect to secure his support, then people will wonder why he is not with us, and probably condemn us as rash young men whom the good sense of Cicero has spurned.'

'Scarcely young, Cimber,' I said. 'Few of us can be called young, and most of us, you yourself of course too, have a great deal of military experience, and great exploits to our names. I doubt whether anyone could dismiss us in the way you suggest.'

'Well,' Cimber said. 'That is only my first point, and with respect to Decimus Brutus, I stick to it. My second is even more compelling, in my opinion. When the deed is done, we are going to have to justify it in the Senate and from the rostra. Can any doubt that Cicero is of all men the most fitted to argue our case?'

This was a valid point, and I said so.

'All the same,' I added, 'I think your anxiety exaggerated. I have no doubt that we shall be able to win Cicero's support, even his wholehearted support, when the moment of danger is past, and when words rather than deeds are required. So, I propose that we acknowledge the justice of much that Metellus Cimber has said, and then agree to approach Cicero when the time is ripe. I suspect this is what he himself would prefer. He is after all an old man, and has never been conspicuous for courage.'

Markie coughed.

'There's no point inviting Cicero to join us,' he said. 'He would certainly refuse. He will never follow any course which others have set. You know his conceit and vanity.'

I knew Markie's jealousy and I guessed that he was afraid that Cicero would outshine him, taking the primacy in our affair, by reason of his talents and reputation; and of course Cassius had promised that primacy to Markie himself in order to lure him on.

Cassius nodded to me, inviting me to speak, as we had arranged he should.

'I have a question to put to you. It is a grave question which needs careful consideration. Shall no man be touched except Caesar?'

Casca said: 'Antony and Lepidus. You're referring to our virtuous consul and the Master of the Horse?'

'Chiefly, yes… we must secure our position.'

'We would be mad not to,' Casca said.

'It is indeed a point.' Cassius spoke in a considering manner, as if his mind was not already determined. 'Antony is loyal to Caesar. Various of us have sounded him out, carefully, and met with no satisfactory response. If he outlives Caesar, are we not likely to find our position endangered? As for Lepidus, he may not amount to much, but he has command of the only troops stationed near the city.'

The meeting fell silent. People turned and whispered to their neighbours. Some were clearly agitated, not having anticipated such a proposal. Others nodded their heads in agreement, but none dared to be the first to speak out in approval.

'No, no, no.' It was Markie, of course. 'No, we are not butchers, Cassius. Think of the horror with which we regard Marius and Sulla and the proscriptions they so shamefully carried out. We are not butchers, I say that again. We are, as it were, priests of the Republic. Caesar's death will be a sort of sacrifice. A necessary sacrifice. I wish it was not necessary. I have, as you know, brooded long on the matter. I am not one to rush to judgment. But I am now convinced. However, if, my friends, you intend to extend the list of victims beyond that single name of Caesar, then I can have no part in your enterprise. I shall withdraw. Kill Caesar alone, and our motive will be recognised for what it is: an act of necessary virtue. Kill Caesar's friends, and it will seem as if we are no more than common cut- throats, bandits, murderers. That will be to invite a renewal of civil war. After the deed, let us practise clemency, and seek reconciliation with Caesar's friends. I repeat: either Caesar alone, or Marcus Brutus can have no hand in the business.'

Casca groaned, but Markie carried the meeting. My second proposal, that I should alert the Ninth Legion, and summon them to Rome, ready to subdue any subsequent disorder, was alike defeated by Markie's argument.

'That,' he said, 'would give the wrong message. This is not a military coup, but, as I have said, an act of sacrifice. I cannot therefore consent, and unless I can freely and of my best judgment consent to any proposal then