Free Julius Caesar by Tony Bradman

ACT ONE
THE EAGLE SOARS

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    The people of Rome laughed and sang as they crowded through the streets of the city. It was March, the month when the Festival of Lupercal was held to mark the beginning of spring, always a good excuse to have fun. But something else had helped to make the people even happier. The war between Rome’s great men for control of the ancient city and its growing empire had just ended, leaving a single winner, the mighty Julius Caesar. And now he had returned to celebrate his victory with feasts and special games laid on for the masses.
    Not everyone was cheerful, though. Two nobles stood at the side of a street, their long white togas bright in the gloom of an overcast day, their faces hard and bitter as they watched the crowds enjoying themselves. Flavius and Marullus were supporters of Pompey, the general who had been Caesar’s enemy in the war. But Pompey was dead, and Caesar had no more rivals.
    At last, Flavius could stand it no more. He stepped out in front of a group of labourers who were chanting ‘CAESAR! CAESAR!’ as they strolled along.
    â€˜What are you doing?’ said Flavius. ‘Have you no shame?’
    â€˜None at all!’ they grinned. ‘We’re going to see the mighty Caesar!’
    â€˜Have you forgotten Pompey already?’ snarled Marullus. ‘There was a time when you would have waited all day just for a glimpse of him. Now you put on your best clothes and cheer the man responsible for his death! Be gone, and pray the Gods don’t punish you for being so cruel and hard-hearted.’
    The labourers simply laughed and jeered, and Flavius drew his friend away into the shadows. ‘Let’s tear down the decorations that have been put up to honour Caesar,’ Flavius whispered. ‘He thinks he can soar above us like an eagle, but he’ll fly a little lower once we’ve plucked some feathers from his wings…’
    They hurried off, and soon Caesar himself came into the same street. At first glance he was much like any other balding Roman noble – he certainly wasn’t tall or handsome. But look more closely and you could see the strength in his face, the steely determination to get whatever he wanted, the aura of power.
    He was accompanied by his wife Calpurnia, his second-in-command Mark Antony, and several others – important Romans such as Brutus and his wife Portia, the great orator Cicero, the senators Cassius and Casca. Behind them all was a large crowd of people jostling each other and yelling Caesar’s name.
    One voice was much louder than the rest, and caught the general’s attention.
    â€˜Who calls to me?’ he said. ‘What do you want? Caesar will listen!’
    Caesar often spoke in this way, using his name to refer to himself rather than saying ‘I’ or ‘me’. Some thought it was to show that he was better than other men, while someeven suspected he did it to make himself sound like a god.
    â€˜Do as he says, whoever you are!’ Mark Antony roared. ‘Caesar must be obeyed!’ Caesar’s second-in-command was a solid, muscular man, a soldier from head to foot. But there was a spark of passion in his face, too.
    An old man stepped forward. He had a mop of wild white hair and wore a long, ragged robe. ‘Beware the Ides of March!’ he hissed, his eyes rolling.
    The Romans had special names for some dates – the 15th day of March was always called the ‘Ides’.
    â€˜What is he talking about?’ said Caesar.
    â€˜Tomorrow will be the Ides of March,’ murmured Brutus, a man with a dark, brooding face. His toga was made of the finest wool, and so white it seemed to gleam. ‘He must be a soothsayer,’ Brutus continued. ‘I think he’s giving you a warning of some kind.’
    â€˜Well, he’s obviously mad then, a dreamer,’said Caesar, laughing and confident. ‘Tomorrow has no fears for Caesar.