The Eagle Flies! A Julius Caesar Timeline.
- Thread starter Dirk
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Dirk
Banned
13 Days Before the Kalends of Aprilis, 710 Ab Urbe Condita
There was no sound in the hole but the sniffling and coughing of Quintus Lugarius and the snores as some of them slept. Had they even been inclined to talk, topics of conversation would have run out long ago. A fetid, putrid stench filled the room, stronger in the corner where they'd agreed early on to do their business in. Little pieces of stone and bone on the floor pricked at their backs and legs constantly, so that some of them took their togas off and used them as blankets. The air was warm with body heat and insulated well from the spring chill.
Gaius Trebonius closed his eyes and opened them again. No change. All he saw was a blackness as deep and complete as the ocean. He couldn't see the men next to him, or the outline of the trapdoor above, or even his own hand in front of his face. They were in the darkest, loneliest pit of the Tullianum, probably used last in the tempestuous times of the writing of the Ten Tables four hundred years ago. The bones littering the floor that cracked under the conspirators' weight were brittle and fleshless, though here and there were the more complete corpses of small animals--rats, moles, a rabbit or two--that had found or dug their way down here and hadn't been able to escape.
Each day brought forty pitchers of water, forty hunks of stale bread, and the crushing loneliness that darkness brought with it. The lictor who brought their repast kept his lips tight, and enforced isolation from the outside world. He felt the twenty feet of heavy black dirt above his head pushing down, ready to cave the ancient little room in and suffocate him, with no chance to escape.
He breathed out heavily, forcing himself to calm down. Panic and worry did no good. Either they'd be released from this hell eventually, or they'd be left to starve to death. He could do nothing about it, so why worry? Oh but he'd rather be flung from the Tarpeian Rock and be dashed on the boulders below than be left in this pit.
Labeo next to him mewled and called out in his sleep, and a few of the other snores ceased. When you did nothing but sit and sleep, wallowing in misery all day, any sound or interest brought you awake.
"What is it?" a voiced hissed furtively straight ahead. He thought it was Galba.
"Just somebody dreaming," the dead tones of Lucius Cassius Longinus answered.
"Be quiet," said Cinna's gruff voice bitterly, shifting on his toga, and it was a credit to their depression that nobody argued with such an offensive command.
Their was silence and darkness after that. He didn't know how long. There was no day down here, only night, and he could only tell that a day or perhaps half a day had passed when food and water were brought. So far it had been four times.
He raised his head at a harsh scraping sound somewhere above, far away. The other shuffled and perhaps sat up, waiting. Again he became aware, as he always did just before food arrived, at the knotting and growling of his empty stomach. He'd become used to hunger during his days and weeks under siege by Gauls while serving under Caesar, but war and country and love for Caesar made a man forget hardship.
Then he thought he saw a flicker of light somewhere, but knew that it must be a trick of the mind. But no! There was a square of dark dark grey in the blackness, the outline of the trapdoor. It grew lighter and lighter, growing to brown and then yellow, the clacking hobnailed footsteps of some lictor growing louder and louder.
The footsteps stopped and there was another shriek of protesting hinges. The trapdoor swung open and Trebonius had to shut his eyes tight against the light. "Dear Gods, oh you poor sweet children," said the most ordinary voice.
He opened his eyes slowly, little by little, and eventually saw the mournful, crouching figure above. Small eyes were narrowed further in compassion, very Roman nose wrinkled in disgust, small full mouth turned down in sympathy. The round, bulbous head and sweating pate were made sallow by the yellow lamplight.
"Cicero," said Cimber in surprise, and then they were all babbling excitedly and roaring furiously all at once. The sounds echoed and reverberated, making their eyes water, and Cicero only waited for them to quiet down.
"Caesar," he said viciously. "Treating men of his own class and station in this way. But no, I've forgotten, he's above everybody else, he's become king in all but name. How could you fail to kill him?" he ended with an imploring wail.
"You weren't much help!" shouted Gaius Longinus viciously. He'd scarcely said a word since being detained, but now all of his typical temper was coming out at once. "You fucking cowardly cunt, Cicero! Waiting for others to do the dirty work!"
There were grunts of assent from the others that were silenced by Cicero's heavy sigh. "You're right, Gaius Cassius, I'm not much for military bravery. But you've forgotten that nobody even told me about this." His measured, academic words, strung together artfully on the spot, were like an essay, or one of his speeches, telling them what they'd done wrong. "Imagine the power and authority my support could have lent to this fiasco. I've heard now, from Gnaeus Hiscius, that even Marcus fucking"--here they jumped, for Cicero rarely swore--"Antonius was invited! You should've killed him, not invited him!"
There was silence for a few moments as they took in his words. A few of them shuffled to stand, bent over because the room was only four feet high, and step gingerly toward the opening to reality.
Then Quintus Antistius Labeo, having woken up, said in his quiet but carrying voice, "We embody the true Roman republican virtues, and so did Marcus Antonius when he was a simple legate for Caesar."
"He was Caesar's servant, and so were half of you! Basilus, you brothers Casca, Cimber, Trebonius, Cinna! All happy to drive the legal Senate from Italy and fight against the mos maiorum. Now when Caesar better awards those who lick his ass better, you turn against him. I've been against him from the start."
The Longinus brothers, Marcus Brutus, Quintus Ligarius and others were beginning to speak up in Cicero's favor when the other shouted them down. Lies! You murdered Romans without trial, Cicero! You did nothing to really support Pompeius during the civil war, Cicero! You supported Pompeius's ridiculous unconstitutionality, Cicero!
Gaius Cassius Longinus threw the first punch, and other followed. Little damage was done, as the men were hunched over and weak from lack of food, but heads and limbs hit the rough ceilings and walls, and Cicero left them weaker than they'd been, disgusted.
"So...have you decided on the punishments yet?" Marcus Antonius had just walked into Caesar's study and was glancing at him wearily. The man was working with all his customary energy and efficiency, not minding the bandages that showed pink strips of blood. Large dark circles showed under the piercing eyes as Caesar stared back at him.
"Not yet," was the answer at length. Caesar looked down and went back to writing swiftly. It had been three days since the assassination attempt, and some kind of demon of speed and energy had possessed him. Cleopatra's physician, who went with him everywhere now, had ordered him to slow down and rest, and hand the helm of state to somebody else for a while. Caesar, of course, has refused.
The betrayal of Decimus, especially, has him paranoid of everyone, and now he's practically ignoring even those who saved his life. If somebody like Decimus Albinus, who'd been almost like a son to Caesar, wanted to kill him, what did other, more distant powerful men want to do?
Emperor Casey
Banned
The Senate Hall, Rome. Four Days Following Assassination Attempt
Caesar paced back and forth, looking each man in the face as he passed by, his friends, his companions, his loyal officers, all traitors. They had been stripped down to their tunics, removing all traces of their former nobility, reduced symbolically to what real men they were. He himself worse his robes and armor demonstrating both civil and military rule over them. He had carefully hidden the wound to his head, not wishing to appear weak to those who saw him.
Over the cheers and screams of the growing crowd outside Caesar finally spoke in a cold and saddened voice “Men, you stand before me now, forty of you in total, because you committed a most grave offense. Not only did you try to assassinate your leader, but you tried to murder a friend. I have never asked you to do anything I would not do myself, I never burdened you unfairly and this is how I am repaid?”
The leaders of the conspiracy stood in the front row, silent and unmoved. Caesar walked up to Gaius Cassius Longinus, the brother in-law to Brutus. “Do you want to see what became of him, when he tried to commit treason?” he motioned at the guards who after briefly leaving dragged the body of Brutus in and dumped him onto the floor unceremoniously. The slight crunch of the shattered pits of skull made some of the senators flinch to which Caesar pounced on.
“You flinch at such a clean act but yet thought it perfectly fit to do so in the eyes of Venus while I prayed?” he turned away and walked to the front of the hall listening to the cries of the people Caesar Caesar! He smiled at the thought of the people being on his side.
He turned back to them resuming his calm and cold demeanor. “It is through Venus that I had the strength to delay the attack and for Marc Antony to stop it.” He looked at them intently “Remember that you are all here because you could not keep your mouths shut, no friends among thieves I see.”
Caesar finally turned to face Antony who stood in the corner “And what, my dear Antony do you feel should be the fate of these men?”
Antony peered out at them with disgust “We rule because of the will of the people, why not let them decide Caesar?”
Caesar nodded “A fine choice indeed. Let us have at it then.”
The guards grabbed Gaius Longinus, Servius Galba, Quintus Ligarius, Publius Longus and Gaius Trebonius and hauled them outside to face the screaming crowd.
Unbeknownst to them Caesar’s allies had ensured that only loyal supporters made it to the front of the crowd so they could be heard loudest.
Caesar calmed the crowd “How would you, the people charge these men for their treacherous attempt to usurp power for themselves in Rome!? Despite your wishes!” The crowd roared.
One by one the men were dragged forward. Death had been demanded for Longinus, Galba and Longus, the others, prison and stripped of their possessions.
After the traitors had been hauled back to the prison Caesar went back to his quarters and fell onto his bed in pain. His head was in terrible pain, he would rest finally. If he wanted to get his greater plans sorted out then he would need to be in top health. Despite his best efforts he remained paranoid going as far as posting guards from the 10th legion outside of his door. Greater plans were to be had and he couldn’t allow a few traitors to get in the way of that.
Dirk
Banned
9 Days Before the Kalends of Aprilis, 710 Ab Urbe Condita
"I was wondering when you'd come," said Caesar without stopping to look up. The scratching of his stylus on the vellum parchment and the steady tapping of light rain on the roof tiles were the only sounds in the room.
Servilia stepped forward with her arms wrapped about her, shivering slightly, an inscrutable expression on her face. Love, pain, fear, anger, they were all there in her black eyes.
He did look up after a few moments, and smiled that dazzling smile of his. At once the face was boyish and simply happy instead of sour and sarcastic. "Please sit, Servilia! There are no formalities between us."
She noticed that he'd turned the chair at the other side of his desk sideways, as for a friend instead of a client or supplicant. Apparently he had been expecting her. "Accommodating as ever, Caesar," she said grimly, and sat with a long sigh. "Except that it's dreadfully cold in here."
Caesar's boyish grin faded just a bit. "I always forget that others prefer comfort to adversity." He stood quickly, not angry, only busy, and soon enough had a roaring fire going in the barely used fireplace. "Better?" he smiled, sitting down and folding his hands.
She didn't know what to say. He had been her lover, her friend. She had given herself up fully for him, for no reason other than that he was who he was. Then he'd married his Julia to that wretched provincial oaf Gnaeus Pompeius instead of her Brutus, anciently noble on both sides, and left for Gaul for ten long years.
"Better for now, Caesar," she answered. Then, unable to help herself: "Where's my son?"
Caesar's grin faded completely, and he fixed his eyes completely on her. "Servilia, Marcus Junius tried to kill me. He didn't raise an army like a nobleman like Sulla, or even a noble man like Pompeius, would. He went after me with daggers in the dark, forty against one, cowardly crows trying to bring down an eagle."
"Are you telling me he's dead?" she asked flatly, staring at the wall ahead and prepared for the worst.
"No. I'm saying that he deserves the punishment allotted for him, and that you have no right to complain. In fact, you should be grateful. It is because of you that I'm sending your son into exile with five hundred thousand sestertii of his fortune instead of none of it."
She moaned, deep in her throat, but couldn't bring herself to beg.
"Don't, Servilia. You'll only embarrass yourself and it won't change my mind. In the new, honest Rome...in my Rome...even a tax-gathering plunderer like your son should be able to make a fortune if he's smart enough. And I know enough of your son's penchant for accounting and academia to know that he'll turn that five hundred thousand into ten million in no time at all."
She closed her eyes, shaking. All her adult life she'd fought for her son. Forced into a loveless marriage barely out of girlhood, forced to see her husband defeated by the Senate and killed by that oaf Pompeius after he rebelled the year after Sulla's death, forced to watch the idiot incompetents jostling for power when she owned political acumen greater than any of theirs. Except that she was born without a great swinging mentula between her legs. Not that many of them had great swinging mentulae either, but they had mentulae all the same.
She'd fought tooth and nail to get her son the best education, to erase the odium of her husband's rebellion, to get her son adopted by her extravagantly wealthy brother, to steer him away from Cato's idiocy...but in that last she failed.
She shook her head, clearing it. "What of my daughters? What will happen to Junilla?"
Caesar raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh, why should I bother her at all? It's impossible that a man such as Gaius Cassius was would let his wife in on such a plot, and though her son is sixteen and a man as far as the law is concerned, I won't touch a hair on his head. He will face trouble for his father's dishonor, but he won't face any resistance from me."
Servilia nodded slowly. It could have been worse. Her son could have been executed, her daughter and grandson could have been ruined beyond repair. Only Junia, with her husband Marcus Aemilius Lepidus being one of Caesar's closest supporters and Master of the Horse, would have been safe.
"In addition, she's my daughter by blood. I couldn't do that to her."
Servilia nodded, acknowledging this fact. Only she, Caesar, and her husband at the time Decimus Junius Silanus had ever known.
"Where is my son, then?"
"Here in the Domus Publica. It's a sort of house arrest until I get all his possessions totted up and auctioned off, because I don't want him stealing anything worth something to alleviate his exile with."
"May I go see him?"
"Why, Servilia, your eyes are actually wet. Of course you may." Caesar bellowed, "Athenodorus!" A small, gaunt man flew into the room and nodded respectfully. "Please see that the lady Servilia gets to see her son Marcus Junius Brutus."
Servilia stood at once, eager to be off. She walked after the little man and looked back once, but Caesar was already bent over his correspondences again, writing intently. She felt happier than she had in almost a week.
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Cicero
The Cicero scene is very well writen;but I doubt Cicero to risk linking him with the conspirators. Like this timeline.Subscribed.
The Cicero scene is very well writen;but I doubt Cicero to risk linking him with the conspirators. Like this timeline.Subscribed.