Time Surfing: Experience History Firsthand. Pick a year, any year…
Historical Backdrop
By March of 44 BC, Gaius Julius Caesar stood as the most powerful man Rome had ever produced. He had crushed his rivals in a bloody civil war, been named dictator perpetuo (dictator for life), and held powers that looked dangerously like a king’s. To many ordinary Romans he was a hero who fed the poor and rewarded his soldiers. But to a group of proud senators, he was a tyrant strangling the 500-year-old Republic. More than sixty men, many of them his own friends and former enemies he had pardoned, secretly plotted to kill him. Caesar, 55 years old, was planning to leave Rome in three days to wage war on Parthia. The conspirators knew it had to be now. They chose the Senate meeting on the Ides of March, inside a hall attached to the Theatre of Pompey.
Rome — Domus Publica, Caesar’s official residence — Pre-dawn, before the 1st hour
You wake in darkness to the sound of your wife Calpurnia crying out in her sleep beside you. The bedroom shutters have blown open and the heavy night air is cold against your skin. She clutches you, trembling, and tells you she dreamed your body lay bleeding in her arms. You feel a dull ache in your head and a tightness you cannot name. Outside, a dog howls and will not stop. You sit up on the low wooden bed, your bare feet on cold stone, and rub your thinning hair.
Rome — Atrium of the Domus Publica — Dawn, 1st hour
You stand in the open courtyard as grey light fills the sky. Calpurnia, dressed now and pale, begs you to stay home today. A household priest reports the morning sacrifice went wrong — the beast had no heart, or its liver was deformed. The slaves are silent and watchful. You feel dizzy and your stomach is sour. You are a man who has faced a thousand spears, yet this morning your own body betrays you with a faint trembling. You almost decide to send word that you are ill.
Rome — Steps of the Domus Publica — Early morning, 2nd hour
As you finally step toward the door, an old Etruscan seer named Spurinna stands waiting in the street. Days ago he warned you to beware the Ides of March. You stop before him and smile thinly, telling him the Ides have come and you are unharmed. He looks at you with steady, tired eyes and answers quietly that yes, they have come — but they are not yet gone. A chill passes over you, but you mask it with a soldier’s confidence and walk on.
Rome — Vestibule of the Domus Publica — Mid-morning, 3rd hour
You had nearly decided to stay home when Decimus Brutus arrives — a man you trust, one of your own generals. He laughs gently at your fears and warns you not to insult the waiting Senate by canceling over a woman’s bad dream. He takes your arm and reminds you of the honors they wish to vote you. You are flattered and ashamed of your hesitation. You straighten your toga and agree to go. You do not know that Decimus is one of the men who will kill you.
Rome — Streets of the city, en route to the Theatre of Pompey — Late morning, 4th hour
You travel through Rome’s crowded streets, carried in an open litter or walking among your friends. Common people press close, calling your name and reaching to touch your toga. The air smells of bread, sewage, smoke, and sweat. Someone presses a folded scroll into your hand among the petitions — you take it and others without reading. You feel the warmth of the crowd’s love and it steadies you. The sun climbs higher over the rooftops of the greatest city on earth.
Rome — Portico of Pompey, outside the Curia — Late morning, near the 5th hour
