GAIUS GRACCHUS SPENT his final night as his brother had—surrounded by bodyguards and partisans, knowing that a great confrontation loomed in the morning. Gaius had spent years telling people about his dream: “However much you may try to defer your fate,” the ghost of his brother told him, “you must die the same death that I did.” What had once been a stirring bit of propaganda now seemed morbidly specific. Flaccus seemed unconcerned—even eager—about the looming clash. He and his friends stayed up late drinking and boasting of the fight they would give the no-good bastards in the morning. Gaius
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