The jaw cracks through my thighs. For the thousandth time it devours me, but only halfway. What a gruesome fate I have suffered, I, the saviour of Rome from the shameful dictatorship. Alone, the freedom of many was more important to me than gratitude to the one.

For eons I have tried to weep, but my tears freeze here, in the icy depths of hell. The monster gnaws and gnaws at me. But no redemption, no more mercy, no more thanks. Why? Why did the Romans cast me out - just because of a little silver?

Once I was a senator, today I am the toothpick of the most horrible monster. Once I was a Roman, now I'm just a shadow. Once I was a proud man of honour, today my fellow prisoners only look at me with grief. Not even Cassius has a good word to say. How could he - he's next to me and has the same fate.

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Two travellers came by. Nobody ever passes by here. One spoke my language, the other a gibberish that I only understood a few things here and there. The latter just looked at me with contempt, hissing my name. Then he mentioned Caesar - and beamed. Why does this man enjoy talking about the dictator? I don't understand it. I don't understand it.

Nobility, chivalry, the good of the people. All that was important to me. The freedom of the Senate was dear to me. So dear that I even killed the one to whom I was indebted. But this seems to have meant nothing to God and the two travellers. They preferred the dictator to the Senate. How could Rome have degenerated like this? My thigh cracks again. My tears and screams die away in the icy hell in which I am trapped.