And a third added, "At the play!"
It was obvious that the plot was by now an open secret, and only the fact that Caius Caesar Caligula had no friend left could account for his remaining unwarned. Among all the favorites, sycophants, and trusted officers about him there was not one but would have been glad to see him dead. Was there one with the courage to kill him? The consul, Pomponius, lying at the Emperor's feet, stooped occasionally and kissed the gilded slippers of the tyrant. A noble Roman, Pomponius! Yes, quite as noble as they come.
On preceding days, Caligula had left his box and returned to the palace for the midday meal. Believing that he would do so this day, Chaerea had left the theater and was lying in wait to assassinate the Caesar as he passed between the theater and the palace; but today Caligula decided to have luncheon served in the imperial box, and sent for food.
Vinicianus, who was one of the plotters, feared that this change in the plans of Caligula might result in the failure of their attempt, and wishing to warn Chaerea, he rose to leave the theater. Caius, seeing him stand up, took hold of his toga. "My good fellow," he said, "where are you going?"
Vinicianus was embarrassed. He mumbled some incoherent reply and reseated himself. But his anxiety increased. He knew that if the assassination were too long delayed, word of the plot might reach the ears of the Emperor-too many now knew of it, and among Romans one seldom knows whom one may trust.
At last, at a moment when Caesar's attention was directed elsewhere, Vinicianus left the theater. He found Chaerea at the doorway.
"All is ready," said the tribune. "I have posted loyal men all along the way, but why has Caesar not come?"
When Vinicianus explained the change in Caligula's plans, Chaerea said that he would return to the theater and strike him down in his box.
Vinicianus attempted to dissuade him. "There would be a riot," he said, "perhaps a general fight and massacre. Don't forget Caesar's German bodyguard. Those wild barbarians would like nothing better than to get their swords into a few score Roman bodies."
While the two plotters were arguing, Asprenas, a senator who was also one of the conspirators, became more and more uneasy because of the change in Caesar's plans. He had seen Chaerea and Vinicianus leave the theater, and he sought some excuse by which he could persuade the Emperor to return to his palace. At last he whispered to Caius that he must be tired and that, as the great spectacle of the day could not take place until after dark, it might be well for him to return to the palace. "After a bath and a meal." he urged, "Caesar will be better able to enjoy the performance."
"Perhaps you are right," replied Caius. "I shall do so."
A procession was formed with old Claudius, Caligula's uncle. Marcus Vinicius, the husband of the banished Julia, and Valerius Asiaticus at the head. Outside the theater Chaerea and Vinicianus joined the procession, which was composed of officers of the guard and men of prominence.
Quite unexpectedly, Caius turned sharply into a long gallery that led to the bath-house, leaving his uncle and the others at the head of the procession to continue by the ordinary way.
In the gallery, Caius met a party of boys from Greece and Asia Minor, who were to perform in the final scene of the theater. Caius stopped to talk with the boys and was inclined to turn back with them. Their manager, however, begged that they be permitted to go and warm themselves, as they were cold. Caesar assented and started on toward the palace. He had taken but a few steps when Chaerea approached and asked him for the watchword. The dancing boys and their manager were still there as Caligula gave Chaerea an ugly word, imitating the old tribune's high-pitched voice; and as he did so, he made an insulting gesture-all to win a laugh from dancing boys at the expense of an officer of the Praetorian Guard.
Chaerea whipped out his sword. The time had come!
I must have reached the palace on my return from the summer villa of the Emperor about the time that Asprenas was suggesting to Caesar that he return to the palace. I went directly to the apartments occupied by Attica and myself. As I crossed the threshold, I passed from a life of happiness and hope to one of hopelessness and despair: Attica lay upon the floor in a pool of her own blood!
I rushed to her side and knelt. Both her poor wrists were slashed deep. She looked up at me and tried to smile. I took her in my arms.
"Caesar," she whispered, and then she died.
All the hatred and contempt for the madman that I had kept pent up within me for all the long years surged through me now, doubled, trebled by this last hideous act of his. But it would be his last! That I swore above the dead body of my poor Attica as I laid it gently upon a couch; then I ran from the palace toward the theater with one allconsuming thought driving me on: at last I should kill a Caesar!
It chanced that I took the way along which Caligula had elected to return from the theater, and I came upon him just as Chaerea's sword struck the monster between the neck and shoulder. The blade struck the collarbone, and Caius staggered back; then he turned to run up the passage, and I met him, sword in hand.
"Britannicus!" he screamed. "Save me!"
"For Attica!" I said, and ran him through.
He fell to his knees, and Cornelius Sabinus thrust his sword into him. Somebody dealt him a blow that cleft his jaw. He sank to the marble floor then and drew his limbs together, screaming, "I am alive! I am alive!"
The conspirators gathered around, hacking at him with their swords, crying, "Again! Again!" Had it been any but the mad monster they thus mutilated, it would have been horrible; but, because it was he, to me it was a sweet sight, though I did not touch him again with my sword after that one thrust.
The screams of the dancing boys and some slaves brought the German guard, but before they arrived the conspirators had dispersed. Bowed with sorrow, I returned to my dead. I think that all that supported me was the knowledge that I had avenged Attica and, at last, done that which I had long dreamed of doing-killed a Caesar. My quarters adjoined those of Caligula. As a boy I had slept on a mattress at the foot of his bed; later I had slept just outside his door, but in an apartment of my own. Practically all of Caligula's life I was within call both day and night. Now he was dead. My hand had helped to kill him. I felt no regret, other than that I had not struck long before-when I first realized his carnal interest in Attica.
As I sat brooding beside her body, I heard a commotion in the apartment of Caesar. Could it be that he still lived and that they had brought him here! I rose and went to the door that separated our apartments. As I pushed it open, I saw Caesonia kneeling in the center of the chamber. Julius Lupus, a tribune, stood over her with a drawn sword. "Strike!" said the Empress, bending her head downward. "Strike and get it over!"
The sword fell, and the head of Milonia Caesonia rolled upon the marble floor. Then the tribune stepped to a small couch on which lay Julia, the infant daughter of the woman. He seized the child by the feet and swung it heavily against the wall, dashing out its brains. Sickened, I turned away and closed the door-closed it forever upon the past after twenty-five years in the palaces of the Caesars.
Late that night, Tibur and Numerius came to me. In some way they had heard that Attica was dead. Tibur told me that there was a rumor that I was known to be one of those who had attacked Caligula.
"They will have to kill someone for this," he said, "and a slave would be their natural prey. Come with me. I'll hide you."
"You are a good friend, Tibur," I said. "There could be none better. You may be sure that I'll not risk the life of such a friend by making him a party to my crime. What a friend you have been to me, Tibur, ever since I was a boy! I have only one regret."
"What is that?" he asked.
"That you are a Roman."
I thought that Tibur was going to explode. "Who, in the name of all the gods," he cried, "told you that I was a Roman? I'm a Greek."
"And all these years I have been feeling sorry for you," I said.
I have not the heart to write more, my son. What followed t
he assassination of Caius Caesar Caligula in the twenty-ninth year of his life and the fourth of his reign, you may read in your history books-probably greatly garbled, as is all history.
Burroughs, Edgar Rice - I Am A Barbarian Page 19