Our Love is Madness
"I have loved to the point of madness, that which is called madness, that which to me is the only sensible way to love." (Françoise Sagan)
Portia was dead and for that Brutus strode through the camp with a heavy heart, for it was his faults and unsightly actions that drove her to it. What a patient and kind wife she had been! Always had she waited for him when months of delays passed by. The bitterest confines of his heart knew he held little grief for those delays, the guilt too profound for words. Brutus was a traitor. He betrayed his wife and Caesar- now both were dead and in ashes.
This sly creature Caius Cassius was at fault for both instances. Oh the heated words he had for his brother-in-law! But Portia was not to be mentioned here, in such loud brusque words where others might lend an ear in the conversation. No man must ever have confirmation of that which drove his loving wife to her death. No doubt people knew and cared not of it, but Brutus cared and Portia cared even when she spoke nothing about it. In life he had wronged her so many times. In death, it would not be so.
Instead Brutus spoke of Caesar and accusations, and the greed that consumed men. Cassius's easily angered temper flared, Brutus there to meet him. Their ties may have been breaking, but this was safer than his conscious. And still while his heart ached for Portia, loyal Portia, he too felt for the trust between him and Cassius erode and this tortured him as well. He may well call the other Roman his brother, as all proper Romans did, but it ran deeper than that and both knew it clear as day.
For Cassius's belief that Brutus had lost his love for him, all he had was bitter pain and irony. Oh, if his brother-in-law knew the guilt in his heart! It was this love that brought indecision to his mind. Cassius's reckless attitude made him unruly and quick to conclusions that may not always be true. It made Brutus startled that this man might think this way now, when shortly before they had been conspiring for Caesar's death.
"There is my dagger," Cassius said with an outstretched hand holding a gilded blade. The sight and willingness struck Brutus and he resisted the urge to take a backwards step. One love he had lost, though he was in debated about that love, and another would make his end. No, he could not drive a dagger through the chest of the man he loved. A conscious voice whispered, but Brutus, you have done the same to Caesar and did you not love Caesar as well? What is the difference here? This reasonable voice brought him to anger, to outrage.
"Strike as thou didst at Caesar; for I know
When though didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better
Than ever thou lovedst Cassius," said the man who brought Portia to her death, who was audacious in such assumptions. Brutus strode forward, full of anger at himself, at Cassius and seized the hand that held the blade. Cassius's dark eyes were full with anger and betrayal, the betrayal Brutus well saw in Caesar as he pulled his own dagger from his former friend's chest.
"Sheathe your dagger," Brutus almost snarled. Instead he forced his voice into calm. Feeding Cassius's flames was not his goal. As he withdrew his hand Cassius slowly sheathed the golden dagger and heard his lover out. Their moods calmed, the anger dissipating with the danger gone. Cassius was becoming accusing again, his voice a light sneer. But Brutus knew when there must be peace. "When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too."
"Do you confess so much? Give me your hand." Finally was Caius calmed. The rough texture from the years of a soldier's work was too familiar for Brutus. Yet the action caused him great joy, further joy than ever he had with Portia. Caius understood this well though he too had Brutus' sister waiting at home. So rarely did the man ever talk of her that sometimes Brutus almost forgot they were joined in marriage. Caius smiled the smile that struck Brutus deep each time he saw it, and refused to release his lover. "O Brutus!"
"What's the matter?"
"Have not you love enough to bear with me
When that rash humor which my mother gave me
Makes me forgetful?" The wanton movements of Caius's body that always followed such words tightened Brutus's chest with pain. The effeminate traits Caius inherited from his mother were part the source of Brutus's love for him, but he knew better. Oh, did Brutus know of the lion that resided beyond those unsightly manners! This was the person that swayed him to betray Caesar with careful words and gestures of flattery.
"Yes, Cassius, and from henceforth
When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so." Caius gave a short nod in satisfaction and slipped his arms around Brutus, and he thought his lover might be as bold as to collapse where they stood. But there were others outside and more important matters at hand. Caius's slighter stature pressed against Brutus and eyed him in search for the source of the hesitation in him. The spark of recognition there gave Brutus a worse heavy heart.
"Though our love might always be that between brothers or rather it should remain between brothers, have we not indulged in different during the dark nights?" Caius whispered as his hand wandered idle. Brutus gritted his teeth but Caius spoke very much the truth. "And never have I witnessed guilt on your part for that which we do and do in earnest…unless you hold no real love for your brother? Is this the truth of your thoughts, Brutus?"
Caius's voice turned icy cold and serious as he removed himself from Brutus. Before the man made to take up that gilded dagger again, Brutus removed it from his person and turned a deaf ear to the protests. Had Caius been so deprived as a child of attention that he clung to Brutus so desperately? "Your horrible rashness is unbecoming, Caius Cassius. Had I to you no love you would not be in such trust of me. No, I'm afraid this is a matter of which no mortal or immortal can remedy."
"But you still hold love for me?" Brutus again gritted his teeth to Caius's selfishness and self-centered thoughts. Seeing that gleam in his eyes again, Brutus tossed the dagger aside and grasped the other's head. The mess of hair through his fingers was too something he'd grown to love. And as many countless times before, in those dark nights when not a soul was watching, Brutus laid a deep kiss on Caius' lips. Portia was well and gone and so was Caesar. And Caius and he were only mortal, left to face the consequences of their betrayal.
The guilt drifted from his heart and mind as Caius had his way- that sly Caius Cassius who Marcus Brutus loved more than any other Roman. If not his heart belonged to Caius, then would Caius's own heart fall.
• So short, but this was a short span of the play. D:
• I wrote this as a Christmas gift to a friend, horseyfan. Based on something that happened in our English class. While reading Julius Caesar aloud, many people thought that Cassius was a girl and therefore flirting with Brutus in their first appearance. -.- And I grew to like this weird pairing.
• I don't own the lines from Act IV. And since I couldn't imitate the iambic pentameter, the rest is written in prose.