I knew from my father-in-law's manner that this was not a purely social gathering. Though he had been polite and courteous throughout the reception and the meal, I was aware that his nerves were drawn taut as a bowstring.
"Balbus told me an odd thing the other day," my neighbour, the younger Cinna, said. "You know, Balbus the banker."
"Of course I know Balbus. What was this story?"
"Well, it seems that some of the veterans who had been discharged and granted farms in the region of Capua were breaking up some ancient tombs to obtain stone with which to build their new farmhouses. Now it seems that one of these tombs belonged to Capys, founder of the city, and on it they discovered an inscription which read: 'Disturb the bones of Capys and a man of Trojan stock will be murdered by his friends and kinsfolk and later avenged at great cost to Italy.' What do you make of that, eh?"
"Not a lot," I replied. "After all, I suppose all we Romans may lay claim to being of Trojan stock, in some remote manner, and there are Romans murdered by their friends and kinsmen any day of the week."
"No, but," he said, "naturally I'm not superstitious, but it makes you think, doesn't it?"
"Does it?" said Casca. "Well, that's quite an achievement, my dear. On the other hand, once you start heeding old wives' tales of that sort, you'll never come to the end of it. Why, only yesterday my fat old mother told me a story which she'd had on the best authority — her manicurist's, I suppose — that a herd of horses which our Lord and Master dedicated to the River Rubicon, on account, you know, of its significance in his career, crossed the stream — a miserable ditch as you would know if you had been with us — and began to eat the grass on the other side. As soon as they did so, my ma was told, they evinced a great repugnance, and some of them actually started to be sick."
"Good heavens, that's extraordinary."
"Isn't it? It would be more extraordinary still, my dear, if Caesar had ever dedicated a herd of horses to that beastly little stream. But can you imagine him taking the trouble to do so?"
"It would be still more extraordinary," I said, "if any such horses, even if they existed, had been sick. But horses can't, you know. That's why colic can kill them so easily. If you get a disturbed stomach you vomit. So does a dog. But a horse can't. End of story."
"Well," young Cinna said, "I admit I don't know anything about horses, can't stand the brutes, bite at one end and kick at the other as they say. It's not that I'm frightened of them, it's just that they have an unfortunate effect on me. So I didn't know that. But, don't you see, that makes the story more extraordinary still. It's against nature, and when something happens that's against nature, that's really significant."
"Oh dear," I said.
That was the sort of story, and that the sort of conversation, common in Rome that winter. Credulity ran riot.
Our talk was interrupted by Cassius banging the handle of a knife on the table to attract our attention.
Then he said:
"I don't intend to make a speech, my friends. As some of you know, I detest after-dinner speeches. That's why Cicero isn't here." (An obedient titter ran round the table.) "But I have a few things I want to say to you. They are not entirely safe things to say. If you listen to me, we could change our lives, and restore liberty to Rome. So I'm asking two things of you, before we start. First, I would ask anyone who isn't prepared to take the responsibility of action to leave us now…"
Nobody moved.
"Good, I've judged you well. Second, I would ask you all to swear, on the honour and reputation of your ancestors, and in the name of whichever gods you reverence, that everything said here tonight from this moment will remain confidential, that you will speak of it to nobody who is not now with us, unless you have my permission, and that you will not discuss it beyond this circle or in other company. Will you swear? Will you swear such an oath?"
Again nobody moved, nobody spoke.
I was the first to rise to my feet and swear a formal oath in the terms requested. One after another, some slowly as if with fear, each man rose and followed suit, most of them employing the very words which first Cassius, and then I myself, had uttered. At last only my cousin Markie was left seated.
"Marcus Junius Brutus, heir to one of the noblest names in Roman history, will you swear…"
Markie crumbled bread.
"This disturbs me," he said. "I have indeed been much disturbed of late. I am vexed with perplexities, ideas which I feel it proper to keep to myself. Many of you will know that I love honour more than I fear death. But now, I suspect that you are about to urge a course upon us to which I cannot honourably reconcile myself."
"Come, Brutus," Cassius said, "there is no man in Rome held in higher respect than yourself. I have heard people say that they wished the noble Brutus had eyes to see what is plain to others. I'm afraid you are too bound up in your own perplexities. I can't force you to swear, but I can urge you, even beg you. We would not wish to be deprived of your counsel."
"Well, naturally" — the bread was now in crumbs — "I'm honoured that you should think so well of me. But suppose I hear something said in this room tonight which honour would urge me to reveal, and suppose I have bound myself by an oath to remain silent, then that will make my perplexities worse. Cassius, you know I love and respect you, but I cannot deviate from my sense of what is right…"
("Little prig," whispered Casca, "fucking little cowardly prig-")
"So, with respect, Cassius, I cannot bring myself to offer the promise you demand. Therefore, I think I should take my leave.
Which I do, wishing you all well, and sound judgment in whatever you choose to deliberate."
He folded his napkin and got to his feet. He went round the table and embraced Cassius, and so departed from us. It has always been said that he left with dignity. My memory is that he scuttled from the room like a frightened rabbit.
The young Cato looked for a moment as if he would follow his brother-in-law, glanced across the table, caught my eye, and remained where he stood. Only one young man, whose name I did not know (it was Favonius, I later discovered) chose to follow Markie.
When they had gone, Cassius resumed his couch and motioned to us to do likewise. Then he began to speak.
"I am sorry that Marcus Brutus, whom I admire as I am sure you all do, has felt unable to remain with us. He is a man I honour and respect. Perhaps, you will say, he is over-scrupulous.
"There was another man with us earlier today of whom that cannot be said. You all know that I speak of Caesar. Men have said many things against Caesar but I doubt if anyone has ever accused him of being over-scrupulous…
"I would ask you to think of Caesar and of the relationship in which we now stand to him, in which Rome now stands to him.
"I can't tell what you and others think of the life we lead, but speaking for myself, I would as willingly cease to breathe as continue to live in… awe… of a man no different from myself.
"I was born in liberty, as was Caesar. I was born his equal. We are men like each other, heated by the same sun in summer, shivering in the same cold winter blast.
"Equals, did I say? I remember once when we were young Caesar challenged me to swim across the Tiber. The river ran high, but I plunged in regardless. Then I heard a cry behind me, and looking over my shoulder, saw that Caesar was in difficulties. And so, just as Aeneas, our noble ancestor, carried Anchises from the flames of burning Troy, so I bore Caesar from the turbulent water, brought him to the bank, and safety. You may imagine I have often dwelled on that moment since.
"And others have performed similar feats. My son-in-law, Decimus Junius Brutus Albinus, here today, why…" he turned his gaze directly on me, "… why, did you not rescue Caesar from the storm of battle at Munda?" "Yes, I can make that claim."