The House of Marcus Aemilius Lepidus

March 14th 44 BC, The House of Marcus Aemilius Lepidus

“Ah, you’re finally here. Come in and sit, my friends.” Marcus Aemilius Lepidus welcomes his two visitors: Decimus Junius Brutus Albinus and Gaius Julius Caesar. They both smile at him, eager for the night’s discussion.

The most of the night went on quick enough—there were conversations on the pacification of Dacia, which was under the rule of King Burebista who had been threatening Macedonia’s northern borders, and they talked about the planned invasion of Parthia after that. Caesar and Lepidus would be leaving just three days later to meet up with the sixteen legions stationed in Macedonia, ready to begin their three-year expedition.

Decimus would be leaving Rome a bit later in the year to take over as governor to Cisalpine Gaul, during which he would be keeping Caesar’s troops in Dacia supplied, and the three men talked of stockpiles, supply lines, and other related subjects.

Later into the night, however, they grew bored of such topics, and so now they move on to more philosophical subjects.

“What’s the best way to die?” Lepidus ponders, his right hand still clutching his cup of wine. He is drowsy, they all are, from all of the long talking and wine. “Decimus? Caesar? What do you think? Perhaps from old age, or would you prefer young, yet for a noble cause?”

“Old age seems a bit,” Decimus pauses, “Inglorious. Now that you compare it to dying for a noble cause. But that also does have its imperfections.”

Lepidus turns towards Caesar. “Caesar? What about you?”

Caesar closes his eyes. He had not thought about this subject many times before. He faces death occasionally, and it never had prompted him to think about it. There is silence when he thinks, as the two other men turn towards him. “I would imagine that the best way to die would be… sudden. Sudden and unexpected.”

Lepidus and Caesar don’t notice, but there is only a hint of guilt that passes over Decimus’ face.

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