"My dear friend Gaius,
"how we come to this absurd position?
"In the interests of peace and equity, I accept..."
"The Senate and People of Rome have authorized me to accept."
"..the Senate and People of Rome have authorized me to accept a truce..."
Not truce. That would imply he is a sovereign rather than a criminal entity.
Quite right. A criminal.
"..Have authorized me to accept a cessation of hostilities
"on the terms offered in your last letter.
"I await your answer."
Good enough.
This abject humiliation is good enough?
We're not men. We're worms.
Worms is harsh.
Worms cannot run away as speedily as we do.
Caesar has not even left Rome, the gods know why not,
yet his legions chase us from town to town with great ease.
We're more like sheep than worms.
If our levies had not failed, if we had money to pay troops.
- But they have and we don't. - Let us cleave to the matter at hand.
You must give some notion of when you will agree to meet him.
- Never. - There is no reason for them to meet.
- The dispute is Caesar and the Senate's. - It is the proper form.
I'll not meet the man. Never.
Like a son, he was to me. - What he was like to you is immaterial.
It is only by Jupiter's mercy that he has not already put our heads on pikes.
Jupiter has no mercy for cowards.
- Cato, be careful. - You'll accept abject surrender...
This is not surrender!
Pompey Magnus does not surrender.
I need time.
A truce gains us that time.
Verrus Horta sends three jars of amber
and informs us he has left the standard of Pompey.
He entrusts his living to your abundant mercy.
- Horta? - Pederast. Waxy skin. Red hair.
- Estates in Tusculum. - I have him, the wretch.
Send a small bag of money with a fulsome letter and make him a quaestor or something.
Show mercy to every man that deserts Pompey, you will pauperize yourself.
There's dozens coming every day.
Judicious use of mercy is worth 10,000 men
and if my last coin buys me a throne, it's a fair price.
- Throne? - Poetic license. What else?
Atia invites you to dinner tonight.
Again?
Not tonight, in any case.
- What excuse? - None.
- It's the second time you've refused her. - I need not account for myself to Atia.
As you say. Not a sapient choice perhaps but brave, sure.
They say slaves talk of bravery as fish talk of flying.
They say that, do they? How very witty of them.
"Seeking only justice and peace
"and to avoid the unnecessary shedding of Roman blood,
"Gaius Julius Caesar has publicly implored
"the renegade Gnaeus Pompey Magnus to accept truce and lay down his arms."
What are you doing?
It's rather fun and there's quite an art to it.
Strange boy.
I've just heard a strange tale about you from the kitchen staff.
For what reason would you and Caesar be skulking about in a cupboard?
What? It was nothing.
It doesn't sound like nothing.
- You seduced him, you sly little fox. - I did not.
I'm not clear it is decent, him being your great-uncle, but who's to say what's decent?
In any case, well done. Let's see Servilia compete with a soft young boy like you.
- What power we shall wield. - You have it wrong.
A good lover is a discreet lover.
He was taken ill. I was helping him to recover.
Of course he was. Now, in future you must not appear too eager.
- A man likes it if you play hard to get. - Leave him alone.
Now, I've invited Caesar and Mark Antony for dinner tonight.
- Be sure you look especially... - I am not his lover!
- Do not lie to me. You know I detest it. - I am not lying.
He has a terrible affliction.
What affliction? By whom?
- I will speak no more of it. I swore an oath. - I am your mother. Tell me.
Excuse me. I will not.
That's very disappointing.
Caesar sends to say he cannot come this evening.
No matter.
- Why not? - He doesn't say.
Titus Pullo is sleeping on the stairs again.
- Has he nowhere else to go? - He won't be in Rome much longer.
Tell me, when is the youth returning? Your husband.
- Crito. - When does he return from his droving?
- November. Why? - I'm selling my slaves today.
There'll be money for your dowry.
So when Crito comes home, you and Lucius can go to him and start married life.
- Thank you, Father! - We'll be sorry to see you go.
November? It's so soon.
- They have to go at some time. - Of course but November.
It's hard but it has to be done.
They'll be so far away. You know how drovers live.
But, Mama, I want to go. I want to be with my husband.
I know. Of course. You must go.
It's just hard.
Morning.
- Trouble you for some water? - Sit down.
- You should be in camp. - Nothing to do there.
- It's boring. - Take some bread.
I'll not, thanks. I'm not feeling too well.
You're drinking too much.
It's not that.
I ate some depraved oysters.
Where's your girl?
Cack...
- I know it's one of these. - Stop worrying.
Even if we can't find her, you can get another.
I don't want another. I want Eirene.
You'll be off south after Pompey. You can't take her soldiering.
Maybe I won't go back to camp. My time is nearly done anyway.
Leave the 13th? Why?
- You did. - You are not me. You've no talent for peace.
I can't just leave her.
- You think with your penis. - It's not like that.
- I've not touched her. - What's her purpose?
I just like to look at her. It makes me calm.
Here she is. Thank you, Apollo.
The girl is his.
No trouble. Pay what's owed and the girl is all yours.
What's owed? You should be paying me to drink the pond filth you serve here.
How much?
I'll pay you back, soon as I can.
Do that.
So what will you do with her?
- I don't want her. - Say again?
It's nice of you to think of it...
But you want a slave. You keep asking for one and here she is.
- Pullo can't keep her. - Can't I have a Gaulish slave?
My Gauls would cut your throat as soon as sweep your floor.
This one's trained up nice and docile. What is wrong with her?
- She has strange eyes. - You drive me insane!
The girl stays.
Keep calm, sweetie.
How can I be calm when Pullo's put that little witch to spy on me?
- He knows, Rissa, he knows. - Big simple brute like that?
If he suspected anything, he'd go straight to Vorenus and tell him.
- Course he would. - Do you really think?
- He doesn't know nothing. - Really?
Sure of it. So he saw Evander round your house.
So what? He's family. He's allowed.
- That's true. - You're getting worried over nothing.
Gods, let it be so.
Poor sad wretch gives everything you asked for.
The Senate will ratify your status, you get your triumph, stand for consul
and Pompey shall withdraw to Spain.
He'll suck Posca's cock if asked nicely.
Too generous by far. I never thought Pompey would accept such terms.
- You think it's a stratagem? - I doubt it.
He and what few forces he has are trapped.
He's weak and growing weaker every day.
We might crush him at will.
But now that he has offered truce,
I will look like the worst kind of tyrant if I attack him.
Posca here thinks I should accept truce. Make peace.
- In exchange for what? - Peace is its own reward.
Snivelry.
The ram has touched the wall. No mercy.
Pompey has no great army but he has the Senate with him.
- He has legitimacy. - In Rome they are the Senate.
Beyond the walls they are just 300 old men.
As you say, but others will agree with Posca.
They have made this shameful surrender public. It will be read all over Italy.
If I am not a tyrant, if I merely seek legitimacy,
why would I not accept such favorable terms?
He refuses to meet us...
in person?
Very good. Simple. Hoi polloi can understand a reason like that.
He refuses to meet me face-to-face, man-to-man.
He refuses to meet me!
Right, that's it. No truce. Let's be after them.
Patience.
He's well caught.
We'll leave when the time is right.
When?
When the time is right.
But we should have left Rome long ago.
The apple is ripe for the plucking and we just sit here doing nothing?
Pompey is not an apple... and I am not a farmer.
Call for my guard.
Come on!
He's worth more than that, look at him! Look at the arms on him.
Come on! 40, 50. Thank you very much. Any advance on 50?
First Spear Centurion Lucius Vorenus. I've been looking for your return.
I'm no longer in the army, citizen. I've come to sell my stock.
Black blood flux. Nothing to be done.
I kept 'em here despite the stink so you'd know I'd done you nothing dodgy.
Nobody to blame.
Fortune left you one, at least.
- Auspicious boy, that is. - How much will he fetch?
A respectable price.
More than enough to pay the feed bill.
- Feed bill? - They didn't starve to death.
Move!
- Nothing? - He'll fetch a good price when he's healthy.
- What's that? - Your father brought him back. Till then?
- To keep? - We sell him when he gets some color.
- What will we do then? - What's his name?
- He hasn't got one! - We'll call him Rubio after my pigeon that died.
- We've nothing saved. - Don't worry. I will think of something.
- And again. - This is a rout.
Shall I be merciful?
I think not.
How will you pay your debt?
All that I have is already yours. What else can I give you?
Don't leave me again.
I never left you.
The men are going mad from boredom.
Today I had to cut the hands off a perfectly good legionary for murdering a civilian.
Then I had to listen to a jumped-up freedman raving for hours
about one of my centurions seducing his daughters.
- It all sounds very tedious. - It is your uncle's fault.
He should've taken the legions south after Pompey.
The men know it and it makes them restless.
Of course...
he pretends it is a stratagem.
But every dog in camp knows that Servilia has unmanned him.
He will not be parted from her.
I, as you can tell...
am not unmanned.
Intolerable. Intolerable!
Calm yourself. You've become unbalanced.
Why care so much who he beds? It is trivium.
You take after your father... simple as milk.
If he were not mewling in bed with that witch, he would be chasing down Pompey.
It is not trivium. The Republic is at stake.
Since when do you care about the Republic?
I care deeply about the Republic.
It would be very unwise to cause trouble about this.
Of course. I wouldn't lower myself.
Such sordid couplings have a way of turning out badly anyhow,
by no one's special doing.
- Tutor has arrived. - Good!
Your tutor has arrived and waits in the rear yard.
What tutor?
It's high time you learned the masculine arts.
- How to fight and copulate and skin animals. - There's plenty of time yet for all that.
There's plenty of time for you to bury yourself in worthless scribbles.
Read those old Greek fools until blood runs from your eyes - you'll be no wiser.
I cannot agree. The Greek philosophers have much to teach us.
Well, here's a Greek philosopher for you.
I've engaged that soldier of yours.
- Vorenus? - Was that it?
Not the sullen Catonian one, I don't like him.
- The cheerful brutish one. - Pullo.
That's it. What extraordinary names these plebs have.
Defend! Shield.
Don't wave it about.
Shield.
Enough!
Water.
This is absurd. I have no soldiery stuff in me.
And this exertion brings on a fever.
- I feel it in my spleen. - You're just not used to it.
It takes time. I've seen you kill.
- There's soldier in you. - It's not killing.
It's the waving about of swords I find tedious.
I can kill people, as long as they don't fight back.
- We'll make a regular terror of you. - At best I will be a middling swordsman.
- Better than nothing. - Wrong.
Graveyards are full of middling swordsmen.
Best to be no swordsman at all than a middling swordsman.
Don't do that.
Excuse me.
Young dominus, I need your advice on a delicate matter, if you'd be willing?
I am.
Suppose you saw something which made you suspect something terrible.
Would you tell the husband of the suspicion?
Supposed suspicion of what?
Another man.
We are speaking of Vorenus and his wife, I presume.
I never said that.
It seems to me that suspicion alone is not enough to speak.
Once spoken out, the suspicion of such depravity can do the work of truth.
And what if you are mistaken?
Then Vorenus is dishonored by error.
Facts are necessary. Without facts, you must remain silent.
I knew you'd hit the jugular.
Refuses truce.
What now?
How happy, to be a slave.
To have no will. To make no decisions.
Driftwood.
How very restful it must be.
- Erastes Fulmen. - Centurion.
- I've come to seek your counsel. - Always happy to help a friend.
I need to borrow some money and I am told you have friends in the lending trade.
I do.
I do. I only hesitate because I'm surprised.
You was well found.
My slaves were taken by the black flux.
But once I raise capital, I'll go buy some more.
I have good contacts in Narbo.
- Be needing a big chunk then? - I will.
I cannot.
Wrong to lead a citizen like yourself down that path.
Rough business, money lending.
Man can't pay, he may have to suffer.
Was I to introduce you to a lender, I would be putting two wolves into one cage.
To neither's benefit.
You're right. Thank you for your time.
Centurion, there are other ways to make money.
A man like you, there's situations his simple presence would be valuable.
- A man like me? - A hard man.
First Spear Centurion in Caesar's mighty 13th.
- I'm no longer in the army. - No matter. Your bearing is enough.
You would lend dignity and strength to business transactions.
If you like, I could use you myself. Show you the onions.
That's good of you but I still don't see what I would do, exactly.
You would come with me to discourage trouble.
No one's going to mess with a First Spear Centurion.
I'd be a bodyguard.
Good money.
- I told you! - I'm sorry, I couldn't help it.
Damn you! Damn her! I am your wife. Me.
Lyde!
That's lovely.
It's not too army-like?
Like a man of deep business.
I'm no businessman. I'm just a bodyguard.
It's a start.
Please, just for me.
Caesar! Me!
What is the matter with everybody?
Lock him up, girls!
Calpurnia!
- Do not trouble yourself with denial. - I did not intend to.
Be rid of her and we say no more. Or divorce will follow.
Perhaps that is not enough to deter you.
Be that as it may, I am indifferent.
We cannot divorce now. Her family's influence will be critical.
I know it.
- Centurion, you're right on time. - Citizen.
Why do we not meet in the Forum?
Forum's only for closing deals, putting a hand on it publicly.
Enough of that Teuton droning!
If you want to whistle like someone's bum boy, whistle a good Roman song at least.
- She complained I was like an elephant. - Tanjit, my honey duck.
You're looking well.
I kiss your mother's feet.
Please, sit.
Would you like something to eat, drink?
- Wine will do. - We do not have wine. Milk, perhaps?
Milk? Run out of piss, did you?
Humor. Very good.
I'm sad to have to come here. I'm very depressed.
I thought we were businessmen and understood each other, yet here we are.
Here we are.
I'm only going to ask once.
- Where's my money? - Where's my truffle pigs?
50 pigs you have, as ordered.
50 diseased and scrofulous pigs.
- Not one knows how to find truffles. - Tricky beasts.
Haven't been eating acorns? Fucks them for truffling, acorns.
I will give you one quarter price. Out of friendship.
You'll give me every mumping denarius, you cack-faced cunny!
Really, there is no call for rudeness.
I'm told Hindus live on after death. That true?
Our bodies die and decay as yours will but our souls live on eternally.
That's nice arrangements.
- You're not afraid to die? - Not at all.
Break his arm.
Give me my money, you monkey's cunt.
Kiss my arse.
Cut his throat.
Cut it!
What are you doing?
What happened?
What's wrong? Tell me.
Erastes Fulmen asked me to kill a man.
You refused him?
What else was I to do?
- I am no bandit. - Of course not.
You couldn't do other than you did.
But how are we to pay the rent? How are we to feed the children?
He's here!
I'm so glad! I thought you might not...
I regret I cannot stay.
I've come to say goodbye.
- Goodbye? - I'm going south in pursuit of Pompey.
We shall not see each other again.
- What, never? - Never.
Don't joke so.
I am not joking.
- Is this because of some foolish graffiti? - Servilia, we are done.
How can you say that?
- We love each other. - Be assured, it is not that I do not love you.
I do this against my own inclination.
There are, however, larger issues at stake and I must do what is right for the Republic.
The Republic!
Why so happy, Mother?
No reason.
None at all? No clever little plan bearing fruit?
None at all, my poppet.
Nor should you suggest otherwise... to anyone.
- What's all the fuss? - We go south tomorrow.
Excellent. If we move fast, Pompey will be eating dust by the kalends.
You'll remain here with the 13th to keep the peace.
Keep the peace?
The city will be in your charge. I'll leave Posca to assist you.
That's ridiculous! I'm a soldier, not a peacekeeper.
You'll follow orders, damn you.
I was considering...
I have a farm near here.
Lovely at this time of year.
I was considering that I might go there.
Stay for the harvest.
- Perhaps you'd like to join me? - That is very kind.
But I think I will stay here.
No good will come of staying.
I don't know. The sea air is bracing, at least.
If you do not go, then I cannot go, I suppose.
It would look cowardly.
What matter? You would know it were not so.
I would know, certainly.
But I do not have a grand shining old name like you.
I must keep my name well-polished, else it looks very dull.
- I must stay, then. - I'm sorry, old man.
Soldier!
You're on duty.
The general will see you now.
Copy this.
What do you want, citizen?
I've reconsidered my position, sir.
And I wish to accept your offer.
My offer?
Of entry into evocati. If same terms still apply.
I said you could join evocati?
With respect, sir, you did.
What terms did I offer?
Evocati prefect first grade, 10,000 sesterces.
That's a generous offer. One which you declined.
Normally, I would never make the same offer twice... but you're lucky.
Caesar is away and I am here alone.
And I shall need good men.
So I give it you, promotion to prefect and 9,000 sesterces.
Thank you, sir.
In return for my generosity, Lucius Vorenus, I expect loyalty.
Loyalty unto death.
Unto death, sir.
Welcome home.
Dismissed.
- Put him here. - Domina.
This is one of them that drew the filthy pictures.
Didn't take long to make him speak. Creature!
Who hired him?
Timon, the horse Jew.
Atia's man. Dress me.
- It's done. - They'll have you back?
They will.
Evocati prefect first grade, 9,000 sesterces.
I've sold myself to a tyrant.
It had to be done.
Thank you.
Gods of the Junii, with this offering I ask you to summon
Tyche, Megara and Nemesis, so that they witness this curse.
By the spirits of my ancestors,
I curse Gaius Julius Caesar.
Let his penis wither.
Let his bones crack.
Let him see his legions drown in their own blood.
Gods of the inferno, I offer to you his limbs,
his head, his mouth,
his breath, his speech,
his hands, his liver,
his heart, his stomach.
Gods of the inferno, let me see him suffer deeply,
and I will rejoice and sacrifice to you.
By the spirits of my ancestors,
I curse Atia of the Julii.
Let dogs rape her.
Let her children die
and her houses burn.
Let her live a long life of bitter misery and shame.
Gods of the inferno, I offer to you her limbs,
her head, her mouth, her breath,
her speech, her heart,
her liver, her stomach.
Gods of the inferno, let me see her suffer deeply and I will rejoice
and sacrifice to you.
- Here we are, friend. - What do you want?
- Tell us what's between you and Niobe. - Nothing. Never.
I swear by Jupiter, never! Furies tear my eyes out if I lie!
What were you doing when I saw you with her?
My wife... we were fighting.
I went to Niobe for advice, that's all.
I was crying, if you want to know the truth and Niobe commiserated with me.
I would never...
- Maybe he's telling the truth. - Lying.
I'm not!
If he says you're lying, then I believe him.
This boy is clever, like you don't know what.
- No, please, I beg you! - Hush.
Don't embarrass yourself.
We know you're lying. We know it, you understand?
We have to kill you.
- I never touched her. - Evander, move forward.
Your life is over. The only question is, how do you want to die?
We need to hear the truth. If you persist in lying, we'll torture you.
You'll die only after many hours of agony and horror.
You give us honesty now and you'll go swiftly, painlessly.
- Please. - Evander, tell the truth.
- Torture him. - Juno's a cunt but you're salty.
- And I was worried about bringing you. - Go on, then.
I've never actually tortured anyone.
- I don't know how. - You don't know how?
- They have specialists! - Why not cut off his thumbs?
That's good enough. It's a start.
Niobe and I were lovers! I confess it!
Kill me if you must.
Hold.
What else?
Nothing else. Kill me.
You're lying again.
You stand at Pluto's door. Will you sully his threshold with lies?
- I am done talking. - Cut off his thumbs.
The child!
- The child is mine! - What child?
Lucius. The baby.
Please, kill me now.
- Lucius, Vorenus' son? - Niobe's son.
My son.
It's... mine.
We have buried this evil now.
You must never speak of it again.
Vorenus must never know.
Never.
Father Mars Strider, this man has done faithful vigil for you!
We therefore ask you to take him under your protection.
May his enemies flee from him.
May their city walls crumble.
May their cattle and women be taken. This man... is now evocati.
Sir, they've sailed for Greece.