“You dare draw your weapon in the presence of your emperor and god…” Caligula’s words were cut short as Cassius plunged his gladius into his groin, eliciting a high-pitched scream of agony.
The other guardsmen, along with Regulus, Marcus, and the others, drew their weapons and swarmed the emperor as shouts of fear and shock echoed from the gathered crowd. They stabbed the emperor repeatedly, his white and purple robes ripped and splashed with bright crimson. Marcus gritted his teeth as blood spurted onto the blade of his weapon as he thrust it into Caligula’s back. Regulus slashed his weapon between the shoulder and neck, driving him to his knees.
“No!” Caligula shouted in terror and agony as large splotches of blood saturated his robes. “I’m a god, you cannot kill me!”
Blood gushed from the fearful wounds as he continued to scream in pain, the dousing of his toga coming as a stark mockery of his imploring cries of his own divinity. It was as if Cassius and his men were deliberately striking where it would be most painful, yet not immediately fatal. Finally, as Caligula started to fall onto his face, Regulus grabbed him by his blood-soaked hair and slashed his gladius across his throat. The emperor’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as dark scarlet gushed from both the wound and out of his gaping mouth. All the while, the sounds of frantic pounding on the large doors grew ever louder as the cross brace began to break.
“We need to go,” one of the praetorians said. “Those damned Germans outnumber us, and they will be in a rage when they see their beloved emperor.”
“At least this hated affair is now over,” Marcus said quietly, sweat forming on his brow.
“No,” Cassius said, shaking his head. “It is not done yet.” He spat on the emperor’s twitching corpse that lay face down in a pooling mass of blood. He turned to walk away, his eyes filled with murderous rage.
“Cassius!” the senator said, grabbing him by the shoulder of his armor. His face was filled with dread as he sensed what Cassius intended. “We agreed, only Caligula was to die.”
“Things change, Marcus,” the praetorian said coldly. “Now unhand me!”
As the men fled back up the corridor, the brace over the door behind them snapped, and swarms of Caligula’s German bodyguard rushed into the corridor. Upon seeing their emperor lying in a growing pool of blood, his body stabbed and slashed in dozens of places, they flew into a rage. Bystanders who had not fled, but instead watched the macabre execution of the emperor, suddenly became targets for the Germans’ rage. They assailed anyone in the vicinity, causing another wave of panic, as even the troupe of dancing boys were assaulted by the burly men with heavy spears.
Down the other end of the tunnel, as they reentered the imperial palace, Marcus stopped and grabbed Regulus by the shoulder of his toga. Word of the emperor’s assassination had already started to spread, and fear gripped those within the house as Cassius and his praetorians set about their fearful task.
“By Diana, what is he doing?” Marcus asked, fearing the answer.
“I would say he’s trying to singlehandedly restore the republic,” the former consul replied quietly.
“Or settle his own petty scores,” Marcus retorted. “And what of Caesonia…and Claudius? Surely Cassius will not harm them! Caesonia is innocent of any of her husband’s crimes, and Claudius has always thought of Cassius as a friend!”
“I fear that friendship alone will not be enough to save him from Cassius’ wrath,” Regulus lamented. “As you said, we all agreed that only Caligula should die. I regret that we cannot stop Cassius, though I will have no further part in this. Come, let us leave this place.”
Unbeknownst to Marcus and Regulus, Claudius had been privy to their conversation; listening from a balcony that overlooked the entrance to the underground passage. Panic had erupted within the palace, and he now found himself gripped in fear as he searched for his wife, Messalina. The young woman had been married to Claudius by Caligula four years prior as a cruel joke, given that the then twenty-year-old was young enough to be Claudius’ daughter. Still, he was very much in love with her. She had since borne him a daughter and was now nine months pregnant with their second child.
It was the cry of another child that alerted him. The door to one of the many rooms along the upstairs corridor was flung open, and Claudius recognized Cassius Chaerea and another praetorian entering. He stumbled along and was able to watch as Cassius was approached by Caligula’s wife, Caesonia. Ten years older than the slain emperor, and more plain than pretty, she was still a kind-hearted woman who sought the best in everyone. She and Claudius had been close, and she’d even looked after his daughter on occasion.
“Oh, Cassius, thank the gods!” she said as she held her one-year old daughter up against her chest. “What has happened? Please tell me!”
“I think you know,” the praetorian said coolly, removing his helmet and drawing his gladius.
The woman closed her eyes in realization, yet she refused to show any of the terror that welled up inside her. “And what will you do?” she asked, swallowing hard.
“Free Rome from the rule of mad tyrants that fancy themselves as gods. And that can only happen when every member of the imperial family is dead. I am sorry.”
“No,” Caesonia said, shaking her head as her eyes filled with tears. “Kill me if you must, but spare the others. My daughter is barely a year old. And what of Claudius and Messalina? Venus have mercy, Cassius! Claudius is your friend!”
“And that is why his death will bring me no joy,” he replied.
Claudius’ eyes grew wide, and he slowly backed away, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. He broke into a hobbling sprint as he heard Caesonia scream. What he did not know was that her cries were not for herself, but for her daughter. Seeing her child’s bloodied remains, she then bravely offered her neck to Cassius, who slashed the artery open and shoved her roughly onto the bed, where she twitched violently as death took hold.
Claudius was now terrified for himself as well as his family. Caligula had insisted on keeping his uncle ever by his side over the past week. He did not even know where Messalina and his daughter were. He further cursed himself for being unable to protect them. He stumbled into the antechamber of the imperial throne room, shouts and terrified screams echoing along the corridors of the palace. Without any other options presenting themselves, he elected to hide behind a large curtain. Shamed, and feeling both feeble and a coward, he wept.
Chaos ensued both within and without the palace as word of the emperor’s murder spread like wildfire. What was impossible to gauge was just how many were involved in the conspiracy. While most of the senate would hail the hated Gaius Caligula’s demise, for the praetorian guard it was a different matter entirely. Only a small handful of officers had been complicit in the plot, with most of the rest remaining loyal to the office of emperor, which they were sworn to protect. That their prefect had gone rogue and violated his oath appalled them. Whatever their personal opinion of Gaius Caligula, it was not up to them to remove an emperor from power, and by doing so a dangerous precedent had now been set. Furthermore, if the imperial line was dead, the senate would have little use for them. They would either be sent to the legions or simply left unemployed.
A large number of these men, led by a centurion named Cornelius, stormed into the antechamber. With the emperor dead, Cornelius took it upon himself to try and save the remaining members of the imperial family before Cassius got to them. For the moment, he was too focused on his task at hand to lament that a man he’d looked up to his entire life had lost all control of his senses. Like many, Cornelius could not completely fault his commander for killing the emperor, yet his rampage of murder against the innocent had taken his vengeance over the cliff and into the abyss of madness.