by David Blixt
BRUTUS
You couldn’t have, even if you wanted to. You’re a born autocrat. And that is why we’re afraid.
CAESAR
We?
BRUTUS
You have the blood. Descended from Venus and Romulus, you said. If ever Rome was to have a king again, it would be you. And Rome cannot have a king.
CAESAR
I agree. Rome cannot have a king, the people would never stomach the word. The word. But if there is a man with the power of a king but without that title - that they could tolerate. That they could even embrace. Because the people are not blind. They know that government isn’t working - or if it is, not in their interest. If , to right a litany of injustices, to set Roma back on her feet, to again make her the city on a hill - if to do that I have to take the power of a king, I will.
BRUTUS
Caesar Rex.
CAESAR
Rex is a word. I am Caesar. To be Caesar is far greater than to be king.
BRUTUS
That first Brutus - he murdered his own sons so that they could not be hailed as kings after him. Would you?
CAESAR
A moot point. I have no sons.
BRUTUS
Caesarion.
CAESAR
(dismissively) Cleopatra’s son will sit on the throne of Egypt, never in Rome’s Senate.
BRUTUS
Octavius, then. You said yourself, he is your heir.
CAESAR
Does that trouble you? It is easily remedied.
CAESAR takes up a sheet of parchment and writes upon it.
CAESAR
‘I, Caius Julius Caesar, Imperator and Dictator Perpetuous, being descended from Venus through her son Aeneas, and from Romulus the founder of Rome, do hereby adopt as my son and heir Marcus Junius Brutus, descendant of that first Brutus who founded the Republic. I do this in all good conscience and free from duress. Long Live Rome.’ Care to witness? Just your name, Brutus. I’ll lodge it with the Vestals tonight and the thing will be done.
BRUTUS
(horrified) No! No, absolutely not. It - it would not be a Right Act.
CAESAR
Are you certain? If not you, Brutus, then the choice must fall on young Octavius.
BRUTUS
Let it fall on his head, then. I can think of no worse fate than being named your heir.
CAESAR
That - is quite a statement.
Both fall silent. Rain lashes at the windows. CAESAR crosses and pours himself a cup of wine. BRUTUS places his head in his hands. CAESAR notices.
CAESAR
Brutus, are you well? Shall I call for someone?
BRUTUS
I feel - very alive.
CAESAR
What?
BRUTUS
Caesar - Antony’s question? What’s your answer?
CAESAR
I haven’t decided to die yet. What is your answer?
BRUTUS
That depends. Am I talking to my friend Caius Julius, or to Caesar the god?
CAESAR
Your friend, always.
BRUTUS
Then I say the best death is in a good cause.
CAESAR
Would a man ever die for a bad one? That is a cheat, my boy.
BRUTUS
Better than not answering.
CAESAR
Oh Brutus! What does the manner of death matter, so long as it’s quick?
There is a knock on the door.
SERVANT
Caesar, pardon me. Marcus Brutus, your brother Cassius asked me to fetch you to him. He was most insistent--
CAESAR
(setting down his cup) We are both on our way. Come, Brutus. We must crush a cup of wine and drink to the Ides - for I believe they are upon us.
BRUTUS
I’ll be right there.
CAESAR exits, followed by the SERVANT.
BRUTUS paces. Outside the window, the storm grows wild. Finally BRUTUS pauses, looking out at the tempestuous sky.
BRUTUS
Caesar, or Chaos.
BRUTUS crosses to the table, where the will CAESAR just wrote is sitting. He picks it up and reads it over, feelingly. Then he downs a cup of wine.
BRUTUS
It must be by his death.
Thunder. A series of lightning flashes strike through the room. Each flash is a projection of images of CAESAR’s assassination. There are classical paintings, statues, and coins, all portraying the death of CAESAR. Amid the swelling thunder voices become clear, shouting:
VOICES (V.O.)
Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!
Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets.
Some to the common pulpits and cry out
“Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement.”
BRUTUS holds the piece of paper close to his heart.
BRUTUS
Sic, semper tyrannis.
BLACKOUT
END OF ACT ONE
II
OCTOBER 2, 42 BC
ACT TWO
PHILLIPI
A MILITARY TENT - DUSK
A table sits at the mouth a large military tent, with camp chairs. BRUTUS is seated at the table looking down on a map, shuffling pieces around aimlessly. He appears preoccupied, mind elsewhere.
Seated in a chair overlooking the camp is MARCUS TERENTIUS VARRO, seventy-four years old. Writing furiously, he suddenly looks up.
VARRO
It’s tomorrow?
BRUTUS
So Cassius thinks. Mark Antony’s men are down there in the marshes, trying to build a ramp.
VARRO
(making a note) Tomorrow is Cassius’ birthday.
BRUTUS
I heard. Young Cicero thinks a fine present would be Antony’s head on a spear.
VARRO
Without a tongue, no doubt. I miss his father. Poor Cicero. He was like me - unwarlike in the extreme. Whereas his son is a true virs militaris, a born soldier.
BRUTUS
(aside) I wish I were.
VARRO
Have you noticed, Marcus Junius, that fathers are seldom blessed with the sons they deserve?
BRUTUS
‘Few sons are like their fathers-- most are worse, few better.’ Homer.
VARRO
Brave Scaurus had a coward for a son - shit himself on the battlefield. Horrid old Sulla’s son was an absolute sweetheart. He died, of course. Cato’s father was a gentleman, and Cato was - well, Cato.
BRUTUS
They say that greatness skips a generation. My father was a great man.
VARRO
Your father was briefly great because your mother pushed him to it. When he failed to heed her advice, he ran afoul of Pompey and was killed.
BRUTUS
I always forget you were there. Marcus Terentius Varro, the eternal biographer, witness of all the catastrophes of Rome. No wonder the gods brought you to Philippi.
VARRO
Not the gods, Marcus Junius. Antony. My property, my wealth, all gone. What else could I do?
BRUTUS
Cross the Rubicon.
VARRO
What did I ever do? I fought for Pompey, yes - he was my friend, what else could I do? But Caesar pardoned me. He was a bastard, but fair - always gave a man a second chance.
BRUTUS
A mistake Antony does not mean to repeat.
VARRO
What did I ever do? I write books.
BRUTUS
He’s afraid of the one you’d write about him.
VARRO
He should be afraid of the one I’ll write about you.
BRUTUS
No point. If I die tomorrow, there’s no one left to carry on my name. The Junius Brutus line stops here.
VARRO
You should adopt someone.
BRUTUS
What, and leave a death sentence as my bequest? Better the name dies with me. Brutus once meant noble regicide. Thanks to A
ntony and Octavian, it now means traitor. Betrayer. Murderer.
VARRO
Liberator.
BRUTUS
Perhaps you can make it so. But it will take a mighty pen to restore my name. My legacy is ruined. In trying to honor my ancestors, I’ve blackened their names, and mine.
VARRO
Brutus, Brutus! You make it sound as though we’ve lost already! We have all the food. If we can hold out, Antony and Octavian will starve.
BRUTUS
Their men may. Antony feeds on hate. And I don’t think Octavian eats at all.
VARRO
(laughs darkly) Octavian! What a final joke! If Caesar was Theseus, his life-thread fraying all those around him, Octavian is Odysseus, manipulating everyone to his own ends. Just twenty-one, and somehow he’s made himself equal to Antony. Consul! Puny little nothing that he is. Down in Hades, Caesar’s shade must be laughing himself sick to see us run from the viper he dropped in our midst.
BRUTUS
He’s not in Hades.
VARRO
What?
BRUTUS
Nothing. Did Caesar have it right, do you think? Is it better to choose your heir?
VARRO
Well, one cannot choose one’s bloodline. So yes, adoption is the strongest way to gain the heir one desires. Like I said, the children of great men often prove disappointing to their fathers.
BRUTUS
Mothers too.
VARRO
And how is the lady Servilia?
BRUTUS
She’ll outlive us all.
VARRO
I did hear an odd story. That when she heard Caesar was dead, and at your hand, she ran down to the market and began shouting out the secret name of Rome.
BRUTUS
Completely true. She felt it was better Rome should end then, at that moment, than… (shrugs) We got her back into the house and shut her up. I have scars from her claws.
VARRO
Ha!
BRUTUS
Too late. Roma’s secret name was spoken aloud. The contract with the gods was broken.
VARRO
If you believe in such things. Curses and prophecies…
BRUTUS
And ghosts.
VARRO
She hasn’t forgiven you?
BRUTUS is silent.
VARRO
It must be hard, torn between her two great loves - you and Caesar.
BRUTUS
As it turns out, not hard at all.
VARRO
(probing) I was sorry to hear about your wife.
BRUTUS
Thank you. Her brother is over in Cassius’ camp.
VARRO
Another disappointing son. It’s not in him. Your Portia would have been a far better son to Cato. As it was, she died a daughter who would have made her father proud.
BRUTUS
What do you -- is that how Cato died? Choking on--?
VARRO
What, don’t you know?
BRUTUS
No one would ever tell me.
VARRO
Cato took a knife and opened his belly. He then sat reading Plato until he passed out.
BRUTUS
That’s not so--
VARRO
(holding up a hand) Young Cato found him, got the doctors to him in time to sew him up and revive him. When Cato saw he was still alive, he howled, tore open his stitches, reached inside himself, and threw his guts across the room.
BRUTUS looks like he might gag.
VARRO
A determined man, even when it came to death.
BRUTUS
Like he did everything. Hard, and chin up. (shakes himself) Forgive me, Marcus Terentius. The night before a battle, and here I am talking old family gossip. I have dispositions to see to.
VARRO
(rising) You should get some sleep.
BRUTUS
Time enough to sleep tomorrow.
VARRO
(from the tent flap) Good night, Brutus.
BRUTUS
(making a show of being busy with the pieces on the map) Good night.
Once VARRO is gone, BRUTUS steps away from the map and surreptitiously draws out a letter. He looks it over.
BRUTUS
Bitch.
CAESAR enters, not from the tent’s flap, but from the shadowy corner of the tent.
CAESAR
What’s the disposition of the troops?
BRUTUS
(hiding the letter) Their placement, or their mood? Sour, both. I think that--
BRUTUS stills, then slowly turns.
BRUTUS
So. You return.
CAESAR
As promised.
BRUTUS is shaking, his heart racing - he’s terrified.
BRUTUS
What-- (steeling himself) What do you want?
CAESAR
(briskly) Tell me how matters stand.
BRUTUS
(without taking his eyes off CAESAR) Antony and Octavius are down there in the marshes, waiting to avenge you. We’re about equal in numbers, but we’ve stripped the land of food. They’re already suffering. Cassius says they’ll attack tomorrow to keep from starving. (beat) Are you here to help them?
CAESAR
I’m here for you.
CAESAR advances. BRUTUS quickly retreats, walking backwards and keeping the map table between them.
BRUTUS
Stay back!
CAESAR ceases to advance. Enter VARRO at the run.
VARRO
Brutus! Are you-? What is it?
VARRO is standing scant feet away from CAESAR, but obviously doesn’t see him. BRUTUS stares back and forth between them, tempted to ask.
BRUTUS
Nothing. I - dozed off. I dreamed of Caesar.
VARRO
Typical of the man. Always the conqueror, invades even our dreams. Get some rest.
VARRO turns to leave.
BRUTUS
(eyes on CAESAR) Varro - stay close.
Nodding, VARRO exits.
CAESAR
(crossing to peer out the flap of the tent) Oh, I’ve missed this! The night before a great battle, how it fires the blood. Makes one feel alive!
BRUTUS
That would be a miracle.
CAESAR
(wryly) Indeed. (crossing to the table with its pieces representing legions.) I see you’ve let Cassius run things. Probably wise. But why on earth did you agree to make two separate camps?
BRUTUS
The hill has two peaks.
CAESAR
Too much, I suppose, to take a page from my book and circumvallate the whole hill. Well well, what’s done cannot be mended. (starts moving pieces) What you must do now is draw them up into an attack on the marsh side. That fool Antony will be proud of his ramp, and commit too many of his men to defending it.
Hands shaking, BRUTUS draws his dagger, and approaching CAESAR’s exposed back.
CAESAR
Then, while he’s slogging around, you must punch through Octavian’s line and take their camp. They won’t expect you to come down off your perch and act. Boldness, Brutus, boldness will save the day. (without turning) Strike, or sit. Your trouble ever was lingering on the precipice of action.
BRUTUS
A failing I overcame.
CAESAR
True. (steps away from the map, where he’s created a winning strategy) There! I still have the knack. How very helpful I am, advising you how to defeat my avengers.
BRUTUS
I find your advice a little suspect. I’m not even sure I believe you’re real.
CAESAR
Yet here I am - waiting to be invited to sit.
Unnerved, BRUTUS lays his weapon on a table and gestures vaguely at a camp stool. CAESAR sits, but restlessly, tapping his fingers and bouncing his foot.
BRUTUS
You’re more talkative than last time.
CAESAR
> It takes some getting used to, this - condition. I hope you do not see volubility as a failing. I have so little conversation nowadays.
BRUTUS
You’re truly a ghost?
CAESAR
Shade, please. Or spirit. Present company excepted, I don’t go around haunting people.
BRUTUS
(momentarily amused, in spite of himself) A ghost with a taste for sophistry. Sorry, shade. Are you solid?
CAESAR
Let’s find out. Try stabbing me again.
BRUTUS
Am I supposed to apologize?
CAESAR
I’m not here for an apology.
BRUTUS
You won’t credit this, but I’ve missed you. Really missed you.
CAESAR
I believe you, Brutus. If only because I haven’t been here to extricate you from your usual muddle!
BRUTUS
(ruefully) Octavius. That was some trap you laid.
CAESAR
Yes, my nephew will go far.
BRUTUS
He’s calling himself Caesar now.
CAESAR
Why not? I adopted him.
BRUTUS
Not Caesar Octavianus. Just Caesar.
CAESAR
Probably pleases his men.
BRUTUS
Whereas mine tremble and quake. I see now I should have accepted your offer.
CAESAR
You didn’t want to diminish your name.
BRUTUS
I didn’t want to be accused of profiting by your death. It had to appear noble.
CAESAR
It could hardly appear otherwise. You are Brutus.
BRUTUS
Brutus. Brutus the liberator. Brutus the betrayer. Am I the villain of your story, Caesar, or are you the villain of mine?
CAESAR
Each man is the hero of his own story. The rest is for men like Varro.
Unable to sit any longer, CAESAR stands and begins to move about the tent, looking at this or that.
BRUTUS
Cassius was against coming here, giving battle. He wanted to give ground, make them chase us, the way Pompey did to you. He preferred Fabian tactics, starving Antony and Octavian out.
CAESAR
A tried and true strategy. Pompey only lost when he dared to face me.
BRUTUS
I was in Pompey’s army. I saw what constantly retreating did to the men. They were terrified of that battle long before it took place. No, I’ve decided to put my fate into the hands of the gods. Rome’s future, on a single battle. If we win, I am vindicated. If we lose… What was it you said when you crossed the Rubicon? ‘The die is cast.’
CAESAR
That’s not what I said.
BRUTUS