Noble Mutiny
"Speak hands for me!" Casca's voice rings about above all else and I hear the horrible sound of steel clash through flesh. I don't dare look to the spectacle and avert my eyes to the stunned council, who stand – doing absolutely nothing.
I want them to yell. I want them to scream and most of all I want someone to run down here and take Caesar away, bring him away from this scene. Someone, fight us for their beloved Caesar!
There is nothing I can do for my personal honor because I feel Cassius's presence over my shoulder. His bloodthirsty but wise mind is near me and I turn over to him, my back to the number of Romans that do nothing but stare at their leader's death.
My companion, Cassius, passes to me a glance to tell me what I am doing is right. For Rome, I do this for Rome. She is my lady who I am forever indebted. This is an honorable thing, for the good of the many but alas my poor…poor friend.
I tear my eyes away from his and they meet great Caesar, flowing blood from holes bore into his chest by mutinous daggers. Weak and feeble, he spots me. I pray to the gods for him not to come to me, not to see me here in the hour of his murder. I do not want him to hate me. O, spare his love for his friend!
But great Julius sees me and collapses into me. For a second it's just us – everything is still around the wretched, bleeding prince and the cruel, noble servant of Rome as the dagger's handle manifests itself in my hand.
I embrace my friend as the sword enters his back. This is what I have done; stabbed a true companion in the back for all of Rome.
The words, escaping his lips and engraving themselves around my soul as an eternal reminder of my betrayal, surround us.
"Et tu, Brute?"
