There’s a list, pinned up in the Roman Forum in 43 BC, with names of citizens marked for death. Cicero’s name is on it. So is the name of a senator’s own brother, turned in by his sibling for a share of the reward. This is not the polished, marble version of Rome that shows up in documentaries. This is the version where nobody knew what was coming next, including the men who ended up writing the ending.
That uncertainty is the part I find most interesting about this whole stretch of history. We know how it turned out, so it’s easy to forget that for over a decade after Julius Caesar’s assassination, Rome genuinely could have gone several different directions.
Nobody Planned for an Empire
Caesar’s death in 44 BC didn’t clear a path to anything. It blew the lid off a power vacuum that three very different men rushed to fill, and none of them were thinking in terms of founding a dynasty. They were thinking about staying alive.
Mark Antony had the political machinery and the army loyalty right after the assassination. Lepidus had troops and provinces. And then there was this teenager, barely known outside a small circle, who showed up claiming Caesar’s name and inheritance like he had any right to it.
Cicero, for what it’s worth, spent months publicly mocking Antony in a series of speeches known as the Philippics, convinced that Antony was the real threat to the Republic. He badly misjudged where the actual danger would end up coming from. That miscalculation cost him his life once the Second Triumvirate formed and started settling old scores.
The Proscriptions Nobody Likes to Talk About
Here’s something that rarely makes it into the shorter, cleaner tellings of this period: the Second Triumvirate’s alliance between Antony, Lepidus, and Octavian was sealed with mass executions.
The proscriptions of 43 BC put roughly 300 senators and 2,000 equestrians on death lists, according to ancient sources, their property seized to fund the triumvirs’ armies. This wasn’t a footnote. It was how the alliance financed itself and eliminated opposition in one move.
A few things about this period that tend to surprise people:
- The triumvirs each added names to the lists, including personal enemies unrelated to politics
- Family members sometimes informed on each other for reward money
- Cicero, once considered Rome’s most respected voice, was executed and his hands displayed in the Forum as a warning
It’s brutal, and it’s a reminder that whatever came after wasn’t built on some clean, inevitable transition. It was built on a purge.
Philippi Wasn’t the End, Just a Pause
Most people know about the Battle of Actium, the naval showdown that eventually ended the story. Fewer people talk about the Battle of Philippi in 42 BC, where the triumvirate crushed Brutus and Cassius, the men behind Caesar’s assassination.
Philippi mattered because it removed the Republican resistance that had any real chance of restoring the old system. Once Brutus and Cassius were gone, the fight stopped being “Republic versus Caesar’s allies” and became a slower, uglier fight between the allies themselves over who would end up on top.
That’s the part that genuinely could have gone differently. Antony had the resources, the eastern provinces, and Cleopatra’s backing. If a handful of decisions had gone another way, we might be talking about a very different name as the founder of an imperial Rome.
Why the Ending We Got Still Feels Surprising
Knowing how patient and calculating the eventual winner turned out to be, it’s worth asking what set him apart from Antony, who had every material advantage for years.
I’d argue it comes down to image management more than battlefield skill. Where Antony leaned into spectacle and alliance with Cleopatra, his rival spent those same years quietly building support in Italy itself, positioning every move as protecting Rome rather than ruling it. If you want the fuller picture of how that long, patient climb actually played out, from an 18 year old claiming an inheritance all the way to becoming augustus first roman emperor of a system that would outlast him by centuries, it’s worth reading in full.
A Different Way to Think About It
What strikes me now, looking back at these years, isn’t the outcome. It’s how close the outcome was to not happening at all. A different vote at Philippi, a different naval strategy at Actium, even a different set of names on a proscription list, and the entire shape of the next few centuries shifts.
History likes to present the winners as destined. This particular stretch of Roman history is a good reminder that destiny had very little to do with it. Timing, ruthlessness, and a willingness to wait longer than everyone else did most of the work.