Et tu, Decimus

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Et tu, Decimus

D. A. Ratliff

Decimus led a small entourage to Caesar’s villa on the Ides of March. Nervous senators who had voted for Caesar’s death implored his best friend, Decimus, to convince him that all was well and safe for him to come to the chamber.

All was not well. I was among the senators who wished Caesar dead and knew Decimus did. Friendship can be tenuous, and over the past several months, I watched Caesar’s loyalty turn away from Decimus to Gaius Octavius, his great nephew. Convincing Decimus to join us proved to be easier than we had thought.

As we approached Caesar’s villa, Decimus remained quiet. I feared he had lost his resolve.

“This is a good day for Rome, Decimus. You know that.”

He glanced sideways. “I know, Flavius. Caesar has been good to me all these years, but…”

“His ego and need for power are unrestrained. He took an Egyptian Queen as mistress, betraying us. We must do this.”

Decimus nodded. “Have no fear, Flavius. I will do what is asked of me.”

And he did. Gentle coaxing reassured Caesar, and we escorted him to the Senate. Senators led by Cassius waited in the chamber as Caesar entered. He must have sensed the palpable tension among the gathering, but he strode to the center of the room to speak.

The first knife struck him, then another—twenty-three in all. As he collapsed, he gazed at his friend Brutus, who stood over him, knife raised. His last words were, “Et tu, Brute?”

Only he was wrong. Brutus was not the only friend to betray him, as Decimus, his most loyal friend, drove his blade into Caesar’s back. Decimus caught my eye and nodded.

“Et tu, Decimus.”

~~~~~