The Festival of the Lupercalia

 February 12^th 44 BC, The Festival of the Lupercalia

            The co-consuls Marcus Antonius and Julius Caesar stand upon the Rostra Vetera. Antonius reaches out and places something on Caesar’s head before the man himself notices it. Few people applaud in the crowd. Antonius smiles, and Caesar feels his head for whatever Antonius had put. He retrieves a heavy, shiny circlet—a golden diadem, to be exact.

            But Antonius is not done yet. “The People give this to you through me.” Antonius keeps on smiling, and Caesar wonders how daft the man is. Whatever his scheme is, Caesar will not accept it. Caesar is already under suspicion of wanting a royal title, and there are some still who wait patiently for the right time to undermine him.

            Caesar gazes at the surrounding crowd. They are silent, all waiting for him to make his move. He hands it back to Antonius, clearing his throat to address the onlookers. “Wel-”

            There is an unexpected gasp from someone in the crowd that interrupts him. It is Antonius again, and this time Caesar snatches the diadem from his head.

            “Thank you, Consul, but I’m afraid that the crown is not for me, nor is it for any other Roman except one.” Caesar projects his words, ensuring that every present bears witness, “Only Jupiter Optimus Maximus alone of the Romans is king, and I trust that you know this very clearly. Therefore, I shall sacrifice this crown as a tribute to Jupiter himself.”

            Marcus Antonius mutters an embarrassed yes, but it is lost in the deafening cheers of the crowd, and Caesar smiles winningly, walking off as if nothing ever happened on that very platform.

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