Enforcèd Ceremony

"When Love begins to sicken and decay/It useth an enforcèd ceremony." Julius Caesar, IV, ii, 20-21

"Let us take our leave to more forgiving quarters that are not privy tothe ears of our men, dear Cassius." Brutus says, his usual stoic demeanor marked on his face as always, the demeanor which I had come to love more than a brother, and nay, not unlike a wife. I nod, and follow him and two servant boys to his lavish tent, draped in the purple and gold of the Empire.

"You have condemned and pricked Lucius Pella for the bribery of the Sardinians and I wrote to beg that you not condemn him yet you did so." I say, appalled by the actions of my Brutus.

"You should not have written in such a case." Brutus says, gazing down at the various maps and plans of war ruefully.

"You yourself are much condemned to have an itching palm as well."

"I an itching palm?" I whisper. "You know that you are Brutus that speaks this, or, by the gods, this speech were else your last."

Brutus continues his chastisement, and yet I am not aware of what he says nor what I reply, with red choler clouding any words I dare speak.

"Brutus," I start, "bait not me; I'll not endure it! You forget yourself to hedge me in! I am a soldier, I, older in practice, am abler than yourself to make conditions."

"Go!" Brutus shouts, "You are not, Cassius!"

"I am." I demand.

"I say you are not."

"Urge me no more, I shall forget myself," I say, dropping my voice from the shout it once held to the whispers of pity.

"Must I give room to your rage? Shall I be frightened when a madman stares?" Brutus asks, forcing the anger to rise hot in my cheeks again and enflame my being.

"Ye gods! Must I endure all this?" I mutter, turning away from my beloved Brutus, daring not to face him.

"Ay and fret till your proud heart break! Go and show your slaves how choleric you are! Make your bondmen tremble! Must I budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch under your testy humor, Caius?" Brutus shouts, and the calling of my true name at his volume causes me to budge.

"Is it come to this?" I ask, locking eyes with Brutus, who, despite

being merely a hand's measure away feels as if he were across the Empire. The air holds such a chill a man unbraced would certainly catch his death.

"When Caesar lived," I say scornfully, "he durst not thus have movedme."

"Peace, peace, you durst not have so tempted him." Brutus replies.

"I durst not?" I ask, surprised by Brutus's saucy words.

"No." is the only word Brutus speaks.

"What?" I ask, needling Brutus, "Durst not tempt him?"

"On your life you durst not." Brutus says through gritted teeth and clamped jaw.

"Do not presume too much upon my love" I say, "I may do that I shall be deeply sorry for."

"You have done that you should be sorry for!" Brutus argues. "There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; for I am armed so strong in honesty they pass by me as the idle wind, which I respect not! I did send to you for certain sums of gold, which you denied me, for I can raise no money for vile means. By heaven, I had rather coin my heart and drop my blood for drachmas than to wring them from the hands of peasants and their vile trash by any indirection. I did send to you good to pay for my legions, which you denied me. Was that done like Cassius? Should I have answer Caius Cassius so? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous to lock such rascal counters from his friends. Be ready, gods, with all your thunder bolts, dash him to pieces!"