My life was a tragicomic romp through power, betrayal, and the eternal struggle to outwit a man who clearly needed to learn the meaning of the word moderation.
My family name was as esteemed as a boiled asparagus as in it was rare, revered, and occasionally stabbed with a fork. The Brutus's were Rome’s answer to a well-tailored toga as we were conservative, respectable, and slightly stiff at dinner parties. My ancestors could have founded a bank, but instead, they opted for the more dramatic career of assassination conspiracy starters. (My great-uncle once poisoned a rival by hiding poison in a fig).
Growing up, I was drilled with the virtues of libertas or freedom and the necessity of looking very solemn in public portraits. I mastered the art of the deadpan stare by age 12 which set the stage for my most esteemed career choice: political theater.
Now, let’s talk about the man I’ll forever be linked to, Julius Caesar. A brilliant general? Undoubtedly. A master of self-promotion? Beyond reproach but by the time Caesar returned to Rome, he was as popular as a chariot salesman at a gladiator’s birthday party.
My problem with Caesar was he had the ego of a man who’d just been anointed by Zeus himself and he was exhausting. In hindsight, maybe I should’ve sent him a strongly worded letter but instead, I joined a stabbing circle.
Assassinating a leader is never a decision to make lightly or, you know, at all. But there we were, a ragtag group of senators with more spears than sense, plotting in the shadow of Caesar’s growing tyranny.
The day of the assassination was a masterclass in chaos. I arrived at the Senate with a heart full of conviction and a sleeve full of daggers. Caesar, ever the drama queen, walked in looking suspiciously unimpressed by the 40-something men lurking in togas. When I finally plunged my blade into his back, he muttered, 'Et tu, Brute?' which is a line that would later be overquoted by Shakespearean actors.
So was I the good guy who did it for Rome or the bad guy who betrayed his best mate but in my defence Caesar was a terrible leader although after Caesar’s death, things unraveled. Antony, our friend’s rival, turned the people against me with a speech that made me sound like the villain and i fled to Greece, raised an army, and faced Antony at the Battle of Philippi.
Spoiler: I lost. Spectacularly and my final moments were a mix of dignity, bad swordsmanship, and a truly dreadful last speech. I’d scripted something inspiring about liberty and legacy, but I died with my head held high, especially when it was cut off and held up for the baying crowd to see.
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