There were whisperings that he was getting ready to assume the office of emperor. At a certain parade when Cæsar sat upon the raised seat, reviewing the passing procession, Mark Antony, the exuberant, left his place in the ranks, and climbing to the platform, tried to crown his beloved leader with laurel. Cæsar had smilingly declined the honor, amid the plaudits of the crowd.
Some said this whole episode was planned to test the temper of the populace.
Another cause of offense was that, some time before, Cæsar had spent several months in Alexandria at the court of Cleopatra. And now the young and beautiful queen had arrived in Rome, and Cæsar had appeared with her at public gatherings. She had with her a boy, two years old, by name Cæsario.
This Egyptian child, said the conspirators, was to be the future Emperor of Rome. To meet this accusation Cæsar made his will and provided that his grand-nephew, Octavius Cæsar, should be his adopted son and heir. But this was declared a ruse.
The murmurings grew louder.
Sixty senators combined to assassinate Cæsar. The high position of these men made them safe—by standing together they would be secure.
Cæsar was warned, but declined to take the matter seriously. He neither would arm himself nor allow guards to attend him.
On the Fifteenth of March, B. C. Forty-four, as Cæsar entered the Senate the rebels crowded upon him under the pretense of handing him a petition, and at a sign fell upon him. Twenty-three of the conspirators got close enough to send their envious daggers home.
Brutus dipped his sword in the flowing blood, and waving the weapon aloft cried, "Liberty is restored!"
Two days later, Mark Antony, standing by the dead body of his beloved chief, sadly mused: