Sparkler Snapshots

XLVI | Et Tu, Brute?

"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves." – William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

Date: March 15th, 2018

Occasion: Ides of March

Country: Worldwide

Disclaimer: This chapter contains a mixture of information from the certified recount of the incident, Julius Caesar by Shakespeare, and my own interpretation of events.

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XLVI | Et Tu, Brute?

The reign of Julius Caesar was one filled with great power. He and everyone else were aware of this. The years he spent leading wars and gaining more blood on his hands than most men in their lifetimes are often looked past in light of his most famous tragedy. That incident would later be named the Ides of March by modern man, which marked the day of his demise.

Julius Caesar had been holed up in his house for days, clutching his forehead and groaning to himself every time he moved too sharply. He was burdened with a sudden case of dizziness that rendered him unable move without passing out. He was supposed to settle some of his veterans in southern Italy before heading east for a long journey, but in his state, that was impossible.

A knock on the door sent him into another spell of dizziness. He gripped his head and swayed on the spot, before coming back to his senses. With slow caution, he lifted himself off the seat and wobbled over to the door. "Who is there? Declare yourself," he said weakly.

"It is I, Decimus," a voice replied from the other side of the door.

Caesar opened the door at once, but the sudden movement nearly made him collapse. He managed to regain his balance at the last minute, thanks to Decimus, who rushed in at once and pulled him back up to his feet. "Thank you, my friend," Caesar mumbled.

Decimus helped him back into his seat, where he let out another groan of nausea. "What happened to you?" he asked in concern. "Are you feeling unwell?"

"I have been overcome with a spell of dizziness," he quietly replied, gripping the arm of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "My health has deteriorated significantly in the presence of those lowly plebeians."

"The hygiene in this republic is atrocious," Decimus agreed, taking a seat opposite him and leaning back to inspect Caesar from afar. "But we do not have the means to cure diseases. Only the gods have that power, and we hardly have means of communicating with them."

Caesar knitted his eyebrows together. "I certainly do pray that the gods send me aid. I am exhausted, Decimus. Winning over a republic has taken several years off my lifespan. I do hope I have a few spare years to make change around here, however."

Gaining power over a republic was an exhausting task, he thought. Though he had a number of trusted friends who were eager to do anything he asked them to, such as Decimus, there were also many who distrusted him. He supposed that was a part of the job. Not everyone would support him. Too bad they would have to answer to him once he became dictator.

Being a dictator was the main part of the problem, to be fair. The Roman republic was called a republic for a reason. Rome had been in disarray before his time, bodies buried in the blood of civil war. When the people had regrouped, they decided to have two consuls, who had the highest power of all, rather than one, so the republic would not become a monarchy.