There was only the horror of violence, the shock of it, even to the men and women who had plotted it and carried it out. Blood was on Caesar’s shirt, knife gashes in his blazer, blood pooling on the floor.Īll the rhetoric about Caesar’s ambition, the danger he had posed to the republic, suddenly seemed worthless.
One of the assassins tried to shout a triumphant slogan, “Liberty!” or “Justice!”, but the words came out flat, drained of any meaning. The conspirators onstage themselves seemed overcome. But when Caesar’s enemies took out their knives and killed the Trump-like leader on the senate floor, no one was laughing.įor a moment, there was absolute silence in the outdoor theater of nearly 2,000 people.
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