Caesar Crosses the Rubicon, Promises to Protect Rome from a Dozen Suspicious Men in Capes

Well, it’s official: Rome is saved. Or nearly. Julius Caesar, in his characteristic modesty and

Intrepid reporter assures passing Legionnaire of his loyalty.

restraint, has crossed the Rubicon with a small army and a very large sense of purpose. He’s moving south with the speed of a man who just remembered he left his wine boiling, assuring all of us that this isn’t a civil war, it’s a preventative measure. A necessary action. A protective intervention.

From what, you ask?

Why, from the Mithraists, of course.Yes, those Mithraists. The ones with the basement meetings and the goat-themed stationery.

According to official orders posted around the Forum (several nailed over bakery signs), Caesar has assumed “emergency authority” to root out what he calls a "Jovian Cultic Network" conspiring to “undermine the Republic from within, using astral channels and bovine sacrifice.” Strong language, but when your enemy is potentially from Jupiter, either the planet or the god, you can’t be too careful.

Personally, I’ve only ever seen about a dozen Mithraists in Rome, and most of them are extremely nearsighted and smell like lamp oil. But if Caesar says they’re embedded in the Senate, plotting with Pompey, and building some kind of cosmic weapon made out of star charts and sacred cows, well… who am I to disagree?

He is a general. And I am a cheese vendor with mild anxiety and no military training. So it’s probably best to trust him on this.

Besides, the edict he issued yesterday: De Tauri Purificatione, I believe it was titled, clearly lays out the plan:

1. Seize all Mithraist temples, shrines, and suspiciously round rocks.

2. Question all known initiates and anyone who owns more than three candles.

3. Suspend all elections until “astral security” can be guaranteed.

   
   

Prudent steps, really. I especially liked the clause about searching anyone who’s “read too many stars.” Astrology has been getting too bold lately.

Now, some of my more nervous neighbors have asked, “But isn’t this a blatant power grab under the flimsy pretext of a made-up cult threat?” And I tell them the same thing every time:“Shhhh. Caesar might be listening. Also, here's a copy of his proclamation. Let’s read it together. Loudly.”

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the last few days, it’s that loyalty is best displayed in decibels.

Hero.

And truly, I am loyal. I support Caesar’s efforts to protect Rome from a small group of possibly confused astrologers who made the mistake of wearing matching hats and whispering about bulls underground. Who among us hasn’t dabbled in culty behavior after a few cups of Falernian?

Now, some spoilsports might point out that most Mithraists are peaceful, that the Senate has been largely functional despite occasional chanting, and that the real danger here is an ambitious general marching on the capital with battle-hardened legions and a personal grudge.

But those people clearly haven’t read Caesar’s latest decree: “On the Imminent Threat of Interplanetary Subversion and the Heroism of Immediate Action.”

A stirring document. Very stirring. Almost poetic, if you like your poetry written in a panic by men who have recently had a vision of a bull in space.

I, for one, have nothing but admiration for Caesar’s tireless work defending our values—especially the value of not getting stabbed. Rome must be protected, even from cults that may not actually be doing anything, but might, if you really stretch, be plotting in symbolic metaphors. Thank gods for Julius.

If that means temporarily suspending laws, traditions, and senatorial breathing rights, then so be it.

I just hope once the Mithraist menace is neutralized (again, there are twelve of them, tops), Caesar will feel safe enough to return control of the Republic to the people. I’m sure he will. Right after he finishes inspecting Jupiter.

Or the Senate.

I mean in the end, who wants to be bothered to choose representatives anyway? They might be bull worshipers! Praise Caesar. Really.