All eyes were on Caesar as he finished speaking. He looked down at his audience like a king surveying his subjects. Did he fancy himself ruler already?
I knew that he did. My eyes were weaker than most other men's, yet in some ways so much sharper. I had always been able to see through people, look behind their faces, words, and deeds, and view their true intentions. In Caesar's case, I saw beyond the wise words and noble countenance to the ambition and cowardice inside. He wanted nothing more than to dominate these people, and we both knew it.
Well, there was one man, among all Rome, that he would never rule! My hand strayed to the dagger at my side. I had been born as free as the wind that whistled in the trees, and I intended to die that way. My dagger had helped me out of many a tight spot in the past, but should Caesar or any other man take the throne, I would not hesitate to plunge it into my own breast.
Weren't all of us here human, from the lowliest commoner to the noblest senator? Why should any creature become greater than others of his kind? It seemed to me preposterous. Not only that, but I alone knew that for all his supposed bravery, the man was a coward. What of Rome then?
As I turned to leave, I spotted Caesar speaking with someone who looked very familiar. Marcus Brutus, my oldest and dearest friend, and the one as high in Caesar's regard as Antony, if not higher.
An unfamiliar emotion, envy, flooded me as I watched them. I wasn't given to coveting what other people possessed. To do so would be foolish, and I was no fool. But as I watched Brutus's face, I wished with all my heart that, just once, he would look at me the way he was now looking at Caesar.