The Killing of Gaius

Now Gaius did not show the madness of his insolence toward the Jews of Jerusalem and those who lived in that region alone. He let it spread over every land and sea that was subject to the Romans, and filled the whole of it with countless evils, more than any earlier history records. But Rome itself felt the horror of what he did most of all, for he did not regard it as any more honorable than the other cities. He hauled and harried its citizens, above all the senate, and especially those who were patricians and were honored for illustrious ancestors. He also devised countless schemes against the equestrian order, as it was called, whose members the city regarded as equal to the senators in rank and wealth, because the senators themselves were chosen from among them. These men he disgraced and drove out of his way; they were killed and their wealth was plundered, for as a rule he put men to death in order to seize their riches. He also made himself a god, and demanded from his subjects honors greater than are due to a human being. He would go to the temple of Jupiter which they call the Capitol, the most sacred of all their temples, and he had the audacity to call Jupiter his brother. And he did other things that fell nothing short of madness. He thought it a tedious thing to cross from the city of Dicaearchia in Campania to Misenum, another city on the coast, by rowing over in a trireme; and besides, he thought it fitting that, as lord of the sea, he should demand of the sea the same obedience he had from the land. So he bridged the sea from one headland to the other, a distance of about three and three-quarter miles, enclosed the whole bay within his bridge, and drove his chariot over it; for, being a god, he thought it right to travel on roads like these. Nor did he leave any of the Greek temples unplundered. He ordered all the paintings and carvings, and the rest of the ornaments of the statues and offerings dedicated in them, to be brought to him, saying that beautiful things ought to be set nowhere but in the most beautiful place, and that the city of Rome was that place. With what was brought from there he adorned his own house and gardens, and the residences where he stayed as he traveled through Italy. He even dared to order that the statue of Olympian Jupiter, so called because the Greeks honored him at Olympia, the work of Phidias the Athenian, be brought to Rome. But he did not achieve it, because the architects told Memmius Regulus, who had been ordered to move the statue, that the work would be ruined if it were moved. It is also said that Memmius put off taking it down both for that reason and because of portents too great to be believed; that he wrote to Gaius about them to excuse his failure to carry out the orders of his letter; and that when he was in danger of being put to death for it, he was saved because Gaius died first. [a]

Gaius’s madness went so far that when a daughter was born to him, he carried her up to the Capitol, laid her on the knees of the statue, and said that the child was his and Jupiter’s in common. He declared that she had two fathers, and left it open which of the two was the greater. And people put up with him while he did such things. He also allowed slaves to bring accusations against their masters on any charges they pleased. Every such accusation was dangerous, because most of them were made to please him and at his prompting. Things went so far that Pollux, Claudius’s slave, dared to bring an accusation against Claudius himself, and Gaius was not ashamed to attend the trial on a capital charge against his own uncle, in the hope of finding a way to get rid of him. He did not succeed. But when he had filled the whole world he ruled with false accusations and miseries, and had set slaves up to lord it over their masters, many plots were already being formed against him. Some men were angry and wanted to avenge what they had suffered; others meant to make away with him before they fell into great evils themselves. His death proved a great blessing for the laws of all mankind and for the public safety; and for our own nation it came only just in time, for it would have come very near to destruction if he had not died suddenly. For this reason I wish to give a full and exact account of the whole affair, especially because it offers strong proof of the power of God, comfort to those who are in misfortune, and a sobering lesson to those who think their good fortune will last forever, and do not see that it ends in lasting misery if virtue does not go along with it. [f]

There were three separate plots to kill Gaius, and each was led by men of quality. Aemilius Regulus, a native of Corduba in Spain, gathered some men and was eager to make away with Gaius either through them or by his own hand. A second plot was organized under the leadership of Cassius Chaerea, a tribune. Annius Minucianus, too, had no small part among those who were preparing to strike at the tyranny. These were their reasons for hating Gaius and joining together. Regulus was angered by every injustice and hated it, for he had a hot-tempered and free-spirited mind, which would not let him keep his plans to himself; so he shared them with many of his friends and with others who seemed to him to be men of action. Minucianus joined the attempt to avenge Lepidus, a very close friend of his and one of the best of the citizens, whom Gaius had killed, and also because he feared for himself, since Gaius’s anger was turned to the killing of everyone alike. Chaerea joined because he was ashamed of the taunts of cowardice Gaius threw at him, and because, being in danger every day through his friendship with Gaius and his attendance on him, he thought that killing Gaius was the deed worthy of a free man. These men decided to lay the matter before all who saw the outrages being done and wanted to escape them by killing Gaius. Perhaps they would succeed; and if they did, it would be a noble thing, for men laboring for the safety of the city and the empire, to have won such great benefits, even if they had to undertake the deed at the risk of their lives. But Chaerea was the most eager of them all, both from a desire for a greater name and because, as a tribune, he could approach Gaius with less risk and so could more easily kill him. [g]

At this time the horse races were being held. The Romans are passionately fond of this spectacle. They gather eagerly in the hippodrome, and there, assembled in great numbers, they make requests of their emperors for whatever they need; and the emperors, judging that such requests are not to be refused, never fail to grant them. So now they pressed Gaius with urgent pleas to remit some of the taxes and lighten something of the burden of the tribute. But he would not hear of it. When they shouted louder, he sent soldiers in every direction with orders to seize those who were shouting, lead them out without any delay, and put them to death. Those were Gaius’s orders, and the men who received them carried them out; a very great number were killed in this way. The people saw it and endured it, and stopped shouting, for they saw with their own eyes that a plea for relief from paying money brought them swiftly to their deaths. This made Chaerea all the more determined to press on with the plot and put an end to Gaius’s savagery against mankind. Many times he was on the point of attacking him, even at his banquets. Yet he held himself back by reasoning, not because he had any doubt left about killing him, but because he was watching for the right moment, so that he would not strike in vain but would use his hands to carry out what he had planned. [i]

Chaerea had now been a soldier for a long time, and he did not like the way Gaius behaved. Gaius had put him in charge of collecting the tribute and the other payments owed to Caesar’s treasury that had fallen overdue because their amount had been doubled. Chaerea took his time over the collection, following his own temperament rather than Gaius’s orders: he was sparing, and pitied the fortunes of those from whom he was collecting. In this way he roused Gaius to anger, and Gaius charged him with softness for being so slow in gathering the money. He insulted him in other ways too. Whenever it was Chaerea’s turn to receive the watchword of the day, Gaius gave him women’s names, and shameful ones at that. And this from a man who, in certain mystery rites he had instituted himself, was not above putting on women’s robes, contriving wigs of braided hair, and devising whatever else might give him the false look of a woman; yet he dared to throw the shame of such things at Chaerea. Chaerea was angry whenever he received the watchword, and angrier still when he had to pass it on, because those who received it laughed at him. Even his fellow tribunes made a joke of him: whenever he was about to fetch the watchword from Caesar, they would predict one of his usual ones, to raise a laugh. For these reasons he took courage to bring in some partners, since his anger had more than slight grounds. There was a senator named Pompedius, who had held almost every office of state, but who was otherwise an Epicurean and for that reason devoted to a quiet life. An enemy of his, Timidius, informed against him, saying that he had used indecent abuse against Gaius, and he named as his witness Quintilia, an actress whose beauty made her much sought after by many men, Pompedius among them. The woman thought it a terrible thing to give evidence that would cost her lover his life, especially since it was a lie. Timidius demanded that she be put to the torture, and Gaius, provoked, ordered Chaerea to torture Quintilia at once and without delay. He used Chaerea for killings and for whatever required the rack, thinking that he would carry out the work more cruelly to escape the charge of softness. As Quintilia was being led to the torture, she trod on the foot of one of those who shared the secret, to signal to him to take heart and not fear her torments, for she would bear them bravely. Chaerea tortured her cruelly, against his will, but because he had no choice. Then he brought her, having yielded nothing, before Gaius, in a state that was painful to look at. Gaius was somewhat moved at the sight of Quintilia, so terribly broken by her pain, and he acquitted both her and Pompedius of the charge. He even gave her money, to honor her and console her for the disfigurement of her beauty and for the unbearable pain she had suffered. [j]

This grieved Chaerea deeply: as far as it lay with him, he had been the cause of suffering to people whom even Gaius thought worthy of comfort. So he spoke to Clemens and Papinius; Clemens commanded the guard camps, and Papinius was a tribune like himself. “Well, Clemens, we have certainly left nothing undone in guarding the emperor. Of those who conspired against his rule, some we have killed by our care and toil, and others we have tortured so cruelly that even he pitied them. With what virtue we lead his troops!” Clemens said nothing, but his eyes and his blush showed how ashamed he was to carry out his orders, though for the sake of their safety he thought it wrong to put the emperor’s madness into words. Then Chaerea, taking courage, spoke to him without regard for the danger. He went through the dreadful evils that gripped the city and the empire, and said that in name it was Gaius who bore the blame for all this. “But to those who try to find out the truth, Clemens, it is I, and Papinius here, and you before either of us, who inflict these tortures on the Romans and on all mankind. We do it not because we are serving Gaius’s commands, but by our own choice. For when it is in our power to stop a man who has already done such outrage to the citizens and his subjects, we serve him instead. We have become his bodyguards and executioners instead of soldiers, and we carry these weapons not for the freedom or the rule of the Romans but to keep alive the man who enslaves their bodies and their minds. Every day we are stained with the blood of their slaughter and torture, until someone does the same service for Gaius against us. For he does not employ us in this out of goodwill toward us, but rather from suspicion; and besides, when the great mass of his victims has been used up, we ourselves will stand as his targets. Gaius’s anger will never stop, since its goal is not justice but his own pleasure. We ought instead to make safety and freedom secure for everyone, and at the same time to resolve to free ourselves from danger.” [m]

Clemens openly praised Chaerea’s intention, but told him to keep silent. If the talk spread to more people, and what ought to be kept hidden were spread abroad, the plot would be discovered before they had acted, and they would be punished. They should leave everything to the future and the hope it brought, that some stroke of good fortune would come to their aid. He himself, he said, was too old to dare such a thing. “And yet, Chaerea, though I might perhaps suggest a safer course than the one you have devised and spoken of, how could anyone suggest a more honorable one?” So Clemens went home, turning over in his mind what he had heard and what he had said himself. But Chaerea was alarmed, and hurried to Cornelius Sabinus. He too was a tribune, and Chaerea knew him to be a worthy man and a lover of liberty, and for that reason hostile to the present state of affairs. Chaerea wanted to get on at once with what had been resolved, and thought it right to bring Sabinus in. He was afraid that Clemens might let the secret out, and in any case he counted delays and postponements as next to giving up the attempt.

Sabinus welcomed it all, for he had the same purpose himself and was in no way behind Chaerea; he had kept silent only because he had no one to whom he could safely speak. Now that he had found a man who not only promised to keep what he heard secret but had already opened his own mind to him, he was far more encouraged, and begged Chaerea not to delay. So they turned to Minucianus, a man akin to them in his practice of virtue and his zeal for noble deeds, and one whom Gaius suspected over the death of Lepidus, for Minucianus and Lepidus had been very close friends; and he was also afraid of the dangers that threatened him. For Gaius was a terror to all the men in high office, since he seemed ready to turn his madness on each of them in particular and on all of them together. These men could see in one another their distress at the state of affairs, but for fear of the danger they held back from declaring their minds and their hatred of Gaius openly to each other. Even so, they sensed one another’s hatred of Gaius, and for that reason they did not cease to feel goodwill toward one another.

When Minucianus and Chaerea met, they greeted each other. Whenever they met, they were used to giving the place of honor to Minucianus, both for his higher rank, since he was the noblest of the citizens, and because he was praised by everyone. Minucianus spoke first and asked Chaerea what watchword he had received that day; for the insult done to Chaerea through the watchwords was the talk of the city. Chaerea did not hesitate a moment; he was delighted that Minucianus trusted him enough to talk with him on such a subject. “And you give me a watchword: liberty! Thank you for rousing me more than I usually rouse myself. I need no more words to give me courage, if you think as I do; we were partners in the same purpose even before we met. I have only one sword at my side, but it will do for both of us. Come then, let us set to work. You lead, and tell me where you want me to go, and I will attack there, trusting in your help as you act with me. Men who bring their whole soul to such deeds will not lack steel; it is the soul that makes the steel do its work. I have set myself on this deed without a thought for what may happen to me. I have no leisure to consider my own dangers, so grieved am I at the slavery of our country, once the freest of all, at our laws robbed of their excellence, and at the ruin that hangs over all mankind because of Gaius. I trust that I deserve your confidence in this, with you as my judge, since you think as I do.” [n]

Minucianus, seeing the force of his words, gladly embraced him and stood by him in his daring. He praised him and embraced him, and they parted with prayers and entreaties. Some people insisted that what had been said was confirmed. As Chaerea was entering the senate house, they say, a voice came from the crowd urging him on, telling him to finish what had to be done and to take heaven as his helper. At first Chaerea suspected that one of the conspirators had turned traitor and that he was caught, but at last he understood that it was meant to encourage him. Whether it was a signal from one of those who were in the secret, or whether it was God himself, who watches over human affairs, urging him on, cannot be known. The plot had now spread to many, and they were all present in arms: some were senators, some knights, and some of the soldiers who were in the secret. For there was no one who would not have counted Gaius’s removal as part of his own good fortune. So they all pressed on in whatever way each could, so as not willingly to fall short in such virtue; and with all the zeal and strength each had, in word and in deed, they were roused for the killing of the tyrant. And then there was Callistus. He was a freedman of Gaius, the one man who had risen to the greatest power, a power no less than a tyrant’s, through the fear everyone had of him and the vast wealth he had gained. For he took more bribes than any man and was more insolent than anyone, using his power beyond all reason. He knew Gaius’s nature well: it was implacable, and nothing could pull it back from whatever it had decided. He had many other reasons to feel himself in danger, not least the size of his fortune. So he secretly courted Claudius and went over to him, in the hope that if the empire passed to Claudius once Gaius was removed, he might lay down beforehand, in favor and in the claim of a kindness done, a foundation for keeping his rank and his power under him. He even dared to say that he had been ordered to kill Claudius with poison, but had found countless excuses for putting it off. But it seems to me that Callistus made up this story to win Claudius over. For if Gaius had been bent on doing away with Claudius, he would not have put up with Callistus’s excuses; nor would Callistus, if he had been ordered to do it, have put it off; nor, if he had disobeyed his master’s orders, would he have escaped immediate punishment. No: Claudius was preserved from Gaius’s madness by some divine power, and Callistus laid claim to a service he had never done. [o]

But Chaerea’s plans were put off from day to day, because many held back. Chaerea himself would not willingly delay the deed at all, for he thought every moment a fit one, and opportunities often presented themselves. There was the time when Gaius went up to the Capitol to offer sacrifices for his daughter; or when he stood on top of the basilica scattering gold and silver coins among the people, and could have been pushed down headlong, for the roof that faces the forum is high; or during the performances of the mysteries he had instituted. At those times he took no precautions at all, intent on conducting himself becomingly in the rites and never imagining that anyone would attack him. And even if the gods gave Chaerea no power from heaven to kill him, he had strength enough of his own to finish Gaius even without a sword. So Chaerea was angry with his fellow conspirators, afraid that they would let the right moments slip away. They saw that his demands were just and that he was pressing on for their own good. Even so, they asked him to wait a little longer, in case some slip in the attempt should throw the city into turmoil, a search should be made for those who had known of the plot, and Gaius should guard himself more strongly against them and leave those who were to attack him no way to use their courage. It would be best, they said, to set about the work during the shows held on the Palatine. These shows are held in honor of the Caesar who first transferred the power of the people to himself. A temporary wooden theater is put up a little in front of the palace, and the patricians of Rome watch together with their children and wives, and Caesar watches too. The conspirators thought it would be easy, with many tens of thousands of people crowded into a small space, to make the attempt on him as he came in, since his bodyguards would be unable to help him even if some of them wanted to. [p]

Chaerea agreed to wait. When the shows began, it was decided to act on the first day. But fortune, granting further delays, proved stronger than their resolution, and as three of the appointed days went by, the deed was done, with difficulty, on the last. Then Chaerea called the conspirators together and spoke to them. “All the time that has passed already is a reproach to us for delaying a plan so nobly conceived. But it would be dreadful if the plot were betrayed and the deed failed, and Gaius grew more insolent still. Do we not see that every day we add to Gaius’s tyranny we take away from liberty? We ought to make ourselves safe for the future, and by giving others the means of happiness, win great admiration and honor from those who come after us for all time.” They could not argue that it was not a noble thing, yet they did not accept the deed outright either; they stood silent and dumbfounded. Then he went on: “My brave friends, why do we hesitate? Do you not see that today is the last day of the shows, and that Gaius is about to put to sea? He has made ready to sail to Alexandria to visit Egypt. Is it honorable for us to let slip out of our hands this disgrace to the greatness of Rome, to parade in triumph over land and sea? Should we not rightly condemn ourselves to shame if some Egyptian were to kill him, finding his insolence more than freeborn men can bear? As for me, I will put up with your excuses no longer. I will go out to meet the danger this very day, and bear gladly whatever comes of it; nor would I put it off, whatever it may be. For what could be more wretched for a man of spirit than that someone else should kill Gaius while I am alive, and rob me of the honor of the deed?” [r]

When he had said this, he set out himself to do the deed, and he filled the rest with courage, so that all of them were eager to set their hands to the attempt without any more delay. Early in the morning he was at the Palatine, wearing his cavalry sword; for it was the custom that the tribunes asked the emperor for the watchword wearing their swords, and this was the day when it was Chaerea’s turn to receive it. The crowd was already gathering at the Palatine to get places for the show, with much uproar and pushing, and Gaius was delighted by the people’s eagerness. For that reason no place had been set apart either for the senate or for the knights; they sat anyhow, women mixed with men and free with slaves. Gaius came out in procession and sacrificed to Augustus Caesar, in whose honor the shows were being held. As one of the victims fell, it happened that the robe of Asprenas, a senator, was spattered with blood. This made Gaius laugh, but it was a clear omen for Asprenas, for he was butchered along with Gaius. It is also recorded that on that day Gaius, against his nature, was most affable, and so gracious in his conversation that everyone present was astonished. After the sacrifice he turned to the show and took his seat, and the most distinguished of his companions sat around him. The theater, which was put up afresh every year, was built in this way. It had two doors, one leading to the open air, the other into a colonnade, for coming in and going out, so that those shut in inside would not be disturbed; and within the booth itself another space was marked off by partitions, as a place for the performers and musicians to withdraw. [s]

When the crowd had taken their seats, and Chaerea with the other tribunes was sitting not far from Gaius, who had the right wing of the theater, a certain Bathybius, a senator who had served as praetor, asked Cluvius, who sat next to him and was a former consul, whether any news of a revolution had reached him; he took care that no one should overhear. Cluvius said that he had heard nothing. “Then here is today’s watchword, Cluvius: the program holds a contest, the killing of a tyrant.” “Hush, my good friend, or some other of the Achaeans may hear the tale.” Plenty of fruit was being thrown to the spectators, along with many birds, prized by those who caught them for their rarity, and Gaius watched with pleasure the fights over them and the scramble of the spectators to seize them for themselves. Then he learned of two omens that occurred there. A mime was put on in which a chieftain is captured and crucified; and the pantomime dancer presented the play Cinyras, in which Cinyras himself was killed, and his daughter Myrrha too, and a great deal of stage blood was spilled, both around the crucified man and around Cinyras. It is agreed, too, that it was on that same day that Pausanias, one of his companions, killed Philip son of Amyntas, king of Macedonia, as he was entering the theater.

Gaius could not decide whether to stay on to the end of the show, since it was the last day, or to bathe and eat first and then come back, as he had done on the earlier days. Minucianus, who was sitting above Gaius and was afraid the opportunity would come to nothing, got up, since he saw that Chaerea had already gone out, and hurried out ahead to give him courage. But Gaius caught hold of his robe, as if in friendliness. “Where are you off to, my good man?” Out of respect for Caesar, as it seemed, Minucianus sat down again; but his fear was stronger, and after a little while he got up again. This time Gaius did nothing to stop him going out, thinking that he was leaving to attend to some need of nature. Asprenas, too, urged Gaius to slip out as before, to bathe and eat and then come back, for he wanted what had been resolved brought to an end.

Chaerea’s men posted one another as the moment allowed, and each man had to hold, with great effort, the place he had been assigned and not leave it. They were vexed at the waiting and at the delay of the business in hand, for it was already about three in the afternoon. With Gaius lingering so long, Chaerea was eager to go in and fall on him in his seat. He foresaw that this could not be done without great slaughter of the senators and of the knights who were present; but though he feared it, he was still eager, thinking it right, when he was buying safety and freedom for everyone, to count the fate of those who would die as a small price. They had already turned toward the entrance of the theater when the signal came that Gaius had risen. There was an uproar, and the conspirators turned back and pushed back the crowd, in name because Gaius disliked it, but in fact because they wanted to get him where there was no one to defend him, so that they could do the killing safely. Claudius, his uncle, had gone out ahead of him, with Marcus Vinicius, his sister’s husband, and Valerius Asiaticus; even if they had wished to shut these men out, they could not, out of respect for their rank. Gaius himself followed with Paulus Arruntius. Once he was inside the palace he left the direct route, along which the slaves in attendance on him were posted and Claudius’s party had gone ahead, and turned into a quiet narrow passage. He was on his way to the baths, and also wanted to look at some boys who had come from Asia. They had been sent from there to sing hymns at the mysteries he was celebrating, and some to perform war dances in the theaters. There Chaerea met him and asked for the watchword. When Gaius gave him one of his mocking words, Chaerea without hesitation cursed him, drew his sword, and struck him a violent blow; but it was not a mortal one. Some say that Chaerea planned it so on purpose, so as not to finish Gaius with a single blow but to punish him more severely with many wounds. But that story does not convince me, because in deeds like these fear leaves no room for calculation. And if Chaerea did think like that, I consider him the greatest fool of all, indulging his anger with pleasure rather than freeing himself and his fellow conspirators at once from danger. For many means of rescue might still have come to Gaius if he had not already breathed his last, and then Chaerea would have had to think not about punishing Gaius but about saving himself and his friends. Once the deed was done, he would have done well to keep quiet and escape the rage of Gaius’s avengers, not, when it was still uncertain whether he would succeed, to throw away both himself and the opportunity for no reason. But let anyone who wishes guess about this as he likes. [y]

Gaius was staggered by the pain of the blow, for the sword struck between the shoulder and the neck and was stopped by the collarbone from going farther. He did not cry out, so stunned was he, nor did he call on any of his friends, whether from distrust or because his wits had otherwise left him; but groaning at the intensity of the pain, he rushed forward to escape. Cornelius Sabinus, whose mind was already made up, met him and pushed him down; and when he had sunk to his knee, many stood around him and at a single command hacked at him with their swords, cheering one another on and vying with one another. Last of all, Aquila, as everyone agrees, struck the blow that finished him. But one might rightly credit the deed to Chaerea. For even if many joined him in doing it, he was the first to conceive it, and he began preparing for it long before all the rest. He was the first to speak of it boldly to the others; when they accepted his talk of the killing, he gathered the scattered conspirators together and organized everything wisely. Where advice was needed, he proved far better than the rest; he won them over with encouraging words, and compelled them all to go on when they lacked the courage. When the moment came to use his hand, here too he was plainly the first to spring forward and begin the killing with courage; he made Gaius an easy prey for the others, and had all but killed him already. So it is only right to credit all that the others did as well to the planning, the courage, and the handiwork of Chaerea.

So Gaius met his end, and lay dead from his many wounds. Once Chaerea and his companions had finished Gaius, they saw that they could not save themselves by all going back the same way. They were also alarmed at what they had done, for it was no small danger they had run in killing an emperor who was honored and loved through the folly of the people, especially as the soldiers would not search for his murderers without bloodshed. Besides, the passages where they had done the deed were narrow and were blocked by a great crowd of Gaius’s attendants and of the soldiers who were on guard over the emperor that day. So they went by other ways and came to the house of Germanicus, the father of the Gaius they had just killed. It adjoined the palace, for though the palace was a single building, it had been added to piece by piece by each of those who had held power, and its parts took their names from those who built them or from those who began some part of the building. In this way they slipped out of the press of the crowd and were safe for the moment, while the disaster that had overtaken the emperor was still unknown. The Germans were the first to learn of Gaius’s death. They were his bodyguards, named after the nation from which they were enlisted, and they made up the Celtic unit. It is their national habit to give way to rage, as few other barbarians do, because they give less thought to what they are doing. They are strong in body, and in their first charge against those they take for enemies they achieve great things. When these men learned of Gaius’s murder, they were deeply grieved, because they judged the whole matter not by virtue but by their own advantage, and Gaius had been very dear to them, having bought their goodwill with gifts of money. They drew their swords and went through the palace searching for Caesar’s murderers. They were led by Sabinus, a tribune who owed his post not to virtue or noble ancestors, for he had been a gladiator, but to the strength of his body. [aa]

The first man they came upon was Asprenas, and they cut him to pieces. It was his robe, as I said before, that the blood of the victims had stained, a sign that his meeting with them would not end well. The second to meet them was Norbanus, one of the noblest of the citizens, who could name many generals among his ancestors. They had no respect for his rank. But he was so strong that he wrested the sword from the first of his attackers as he grappled with him, and it was plain that he would not die without a fight, until he was surrounded by a great many assailants and fell under their many wounds. The third was Anteius, a senator, with a few others. He did not run into the Germans by chance, as the others had, but came out of a wish to see the sight, and for the pleasure of seeing Gaius lying dead with his own eyes, to satisfy his hatred of him. For Gaius had banished Anteius’s father, who bore the same name, and not content with that had sent soldiers and killed him. So he had come to enjoy the sight of the corpse. But as the palace was in uproar, he tried to hide himself, and could not escape the Germans’ thorough search or their fury in killing guilty and innocent alike. So these men died.

When the news of Gaius’s death reached the theater, there was amazement and disbelief. Even some who welcomed his destruction with great pleasure, and would long before have counted it the greatest good that could come to them, could not believe it for fear. There were others to whom it was wholly beyond hope, because they did not want anything of the kind to have happened to Gaius, and would not accept it as true, since they thought no man could have the courage for such a deed. These were the women, the children, the slaves, and some of the soldiers. The soldiers took his pay and were nothing more than his partners in tyranny; by serving his insolence they terrorized the best of the citizens and gained both honor and profit for themselves. The women and the young, as a crowd tends to be, had been captivated by shows, by gifts of gladiator fights, and by the pleasure of certain distributions of meat, which were done in name to please the multitude, but in truth to glut the cruelty of Gaius’s madness. The slaves grieved because he had let them address their masters freely and despise them, and his help was their refuge when they insulted them. It was easy for them to be believed when they lied against their masters, and by revealing their masters’ money they could become both free and rich at once as the reward for their accusations, for the prize offered to informers was an eighth of the accused man’s property. Among the nobles, the report seemed believable to some, either because they had known of the plot beforehand or because they wanted it to be true; but they kept silent, hiding not only their joy at the news but even the fact that they had heard it. Some were afraid that if their hopes proved false they would be punished for having revealed their minds too soon. Others, who knew the truth because they had shared in the plot, hid it all the more carefully, since they did not know one another’s minds. They were afraid that if they spoke to someone who profited from the tyranny’s continuing, they might be informed on and punished if Gaius proved to be alive. For another report had spread, that he had been wounded but was not dead, and was alive under the care of his physicians. No one trusted anyone enough to dare to open his mind to him. A friend of Gaius’s was suspect for his goodwill toward the tyranny; and one who hated him was not believed, because of the ill will he bore him. Some even said, and it was they who most of all destroyed the nobles’ hopes and their good cheer, that Gaius had paid no attention to his danger and no heed to the care of his wounds, but had rushed into the forum bloodstained as he was and was making speeches to the people. These were the guesses of those who were set, without reason, on spreading rumors, and the hearers took them one way or the other according to their own opinions. Still, the spectators did not leave their seats, for fear of the charge that would be brought against anyone who went out first; for the judgment on them would not follow the intention they claimed, but whatever the accusers and the judges chose to suppose. [ad]

But now a crowd of Germans surrounded the theater with drawn swords. All the spectators expected to die. At every man who came in they were seized with terror, as though they were about to be cut down that very instant. They were helpless: they had not the courage to leave, nor did they believe that staying in the theater was safe. When the Germans burst in, a cry went up from the whole theater as it turned to begging the soldiers for mercy. The people protested that they knew nothing of what the rebels had planned, if indeed there had been any rebellion, or of what had been done. They begged the soldiers to spare them, and not to punish people who had no share in the guilt for the daring deed of others, but to leave off and search out those who had done whatever it was that had been done. So they spoke, and more besides, with tears and beating of their faces, calling on heaven and lamenting their fate, saying everything that the danger standing so near taught them, the things a man says when he is fighting for his life. At this the soldiers’ fury broke, and they regretted what they had intended against the spectators; for it was cruel, and it seemed so even to them, savage as they had become, though they had already set the heads of Asprenas and the others on the altar. At the sight of these the spectators were still more deeply shaken, both from regard for the rank of the men and from pity for what they had suffered. They were almost as shaken by the danger that had come so close to themselves, since it was still uncertain whether they could escape the disaster in the end. So even those who hated Gaius eagerly and justly were robbed of their joy at his death, because they were in danger of perishing with him, and had as yet no firm assurance of surviving.

There was a man named Euarestus Arruntius, an auctioneer’s crier, who for that reason had a powerful voice, and whose wealth rivaled that of the richest Romans; he was able to do whatever he wished in the city, both then and afterward. This man put on the deepest mourning he could. Though he hated Gaius more than anyone, fear, and a shrewd plan for winning his own safety, taught him a lesson stronger than his pleasure at the moment. So he dressed himself in every way as a man would who had lost those dearest to him, came into the theater, and announced Gaius’s death, so that the people no longer went on in ignorance of what had happened. Then Arruntius Stella arrived too, calling back the Germans, and the tribunes with him, ordering them to put away their swords and telling them plainly that Gaius was dead. This, quite clearly, saved those gathered in the theater and all who in any way crossed the Germans’ path. As long as they hoped that Gaius still lay breathing, there was no evil they would have stopped at. So much goodwill toward him overflowed in them that they would have bought his safety from the plot, and his escape from so great a disaster, even at the cost of their own lives. But they gave up their rage for revenge once they had clear knowledge of his death, both because it would be useless now to show their zeal and goodwill, since the man who would have rewarded them was dead, and from fear that if they went on with their outrages they would be called to account by the senate, if power should return to it, or by whatever ruler took his place. And so, though with difficulty, the Germans at last ceased from the frenzy that had seized them over Gaius’s death. [ae]

Chaerea was very much afraid for Minucianus, that he might fall in with the Germans in their madness and be killed, so he went to each of the soldiers and begged them to see to his safety, and made great inquiry to make sure he had not been killed. Minucianus was brought before Clemens, who let him go. Clemens, along with many other senators, bore witness that the deed was just, and that those who had conceived it and had not lost their nerve in carrying it out had shown true virtue. Tyranny, he said, rises for a little while, lifted up by its pleasure in insolence, but it does not end its life happily, because virtue hates it; it ends in such misfortune as had now overtaken Gaius. Before ever the men who rose against him had plotted the attack, he had become a conspirator against himself; by his intolerable insolence, setting aside the provision the law had made, he had taught his dearest friends to treat him as an enemy. So now, though in name it was these men who had killed Gaius, in fact he lay dead by his own doing.

By now the audience was getting out of the theater past the guards, who at first had been very harsh. The man who made it possible for many of the spectators to escape was Alcyon the physician. He had been hurried off as if to treat some of the wounded, and he sent out those who were with him, in name to fetch what was needed to treat the wounded, but in truth so that they might escape the danger that had overtaken them. Meanwhile the senate met, and the people gathered in the forum, where they usually hold their assemblies, and both set about searching for Gaius’s murderers: the people very earnestly, the senate only in appearance. Valerius Asiaticus, a former consul, stood up before the people. They were in an uproar and indignant that the emperor’s murderers were still undiscovered, and when they all eagerly asked him who had done it, he answered: “I wish it had been me!” The consuls also published an edict in which they accused Gaius and ordered the people and the soldiers to go home. They held out to the people great hope of relief from their burdens, and to the soldiers the promise of rewards if they kept quiet as they usually did and did not go out to commit outrages; for there was fear that if they ran wild, the city would suffer from their plundering and their robbing of the temples. By now the whole body of the senators had assembled, above all those who had joined in the killing of Gaius. They were already bold and full of disdain, as though the government had now passed into their hands. [ag]