Foreign Correspondence

I was at my home cooking while Antony was making his speech. My husband had gone out earlier to talk to a friend of his about Caesar's death, but he came back because his friend wasn't at his house. My husband told me that everywhere he went he saw angry people, friends arguing, people fighting, even mobs! We both agreed not to go out today, lest we be caught up in all the drama. Even so, when a Friend of ours, a kind poet named Cinna, walked by; I couldn't help but step out for a moment to say hello. Perhaps that was foolish, even dangerous, but he needed to be warned about the mobs. He passed around the corner and I quickly and quietly rushed over. I was almost at the corner when I heard voices, numerous voices, all asking him questions. I pressed myself flat against the wall and inched slowly over to the corner. Once I got there, I peeked around. As I had suspected, Cinna was surrounded by a large number of furious looking people. I knew right away that they were a mob, just by their erratic movements and such. They mob members asked him many questions, things ranging from his name to whether or not he was married. During all this I realized, horrified, that he had the same name as one of the conspirators! I tried to think of ways to help him without getting caught myself, yet none came to mind. Finally I decided I had to do something, even if it meant endangering my own life. No sooner had I thought this than I heard someone ask Cinna his name, and he unknowingly responded. I'll never forget what happened next. Someone amid the crowd yelled, "Tear him to pieces; he's a conspirator!". Cinna tried to tell them that he was not the conspirator, but they didn't listen. They began to kick and punch him; some even took out some make-shift weapons. Not thinking, I screamed yet no one heard me. Not knowing what to do, I ran home. That is all I can report.