01x05 - The Ram has Touched the Wall

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"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..."

No, not "truce".
That would imply...

that 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.
- Good enough?

This abject humiliation
is good enough?

We are not men.

We are worms.

Worms is harsh.

Worms cannot run away
as speedily as we do.

Caesar has not even left Rome,
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...

Yes, but they have and we don't.

Let us cleave to the matter at hand.

Pompey, you must give some notion...
of when you will agree

- to meet him in person.
- Never.

There is no reason for them to meet.

The dispute is between Caesar
and the Senate.

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.

Mercy?

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 such mercy to every man
that deserts Pompey

you will pauperize yourself.

There's dozens of them
coming every day.

Judicious use of mercy
is worth ten thousand men.

And if my last coin buys me
a throne, it's a fair price.

- A throne?
- Poetic license.

- What else?
- Atia invites you to dinner tonight.

Again? Bona dea.

- Not tonight in any case.
- What excuse shall I give?

- None.
- This is the second time...

you have refused an invitation
from her.

I need not account for myself
to Atia.

As you say, not a sapient choice,
perhaps, but brave, sure.

They say sl*ves 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 Gnaius 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 have just heard a very strange tale
about you from the kitchen staff.

For what possible reason I wonder...

would you and Caesar
be skulking about in a cupboard?

What?

We were... It was nothing.

Nothing?
It doesn't sound like nothing.

You seduced him, you sly little fox.

I did not.

I am not clear it is decent,
him being your great uncle

but who's to say what's decent
in times like these?

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

- that's all.
- Of course he was, my dove.

Now in the future
you must not appear too eager.

A man likes it
if you play hard to get.

Why don't you leave him alone,
mother?

Now, I have invited Caesar
and Mark Antony for dinner tonight.

We'll be sure you look...

- especially handsome...
- I am not his lover!

Do not lie to me.
You know I detest it

- when you lie to me.
- I am not lying.

He has an affliction.
A terrible affliction.

Affliction? What affliction?
By whom?

I... I will speak no more of it.
I swore an oath.

Oath be damned! 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?

It 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.
- Crito.

When does he return from his droving?

- November. Why?
- I'm selling my sl*ves today.

There'll be money enough spare
for your dowry.

So when Crito comes home,
you and Lucius can go to him...

and start your married life proper.

Thank you, father! Thank you!

- We'll be sorry to see you go.
- November? It's so soon.

They have to go at some time.

- Of course, of course, but November?
- I know it's hard...

- but it has to be done.
- They'll be so far away.

You know how these drovers live.

But mama, I want to go.

I want to be with my husband.

I know, 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.

No, it's not that.

I ate some depraved oysters.

Where's your girl?

Girl?

Cack!

I know it's one of these.

I know it!

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
before long.

You can't take her soldiering.

Maybe I won't go back to camp.

My time is nearly done anyway.

Leave the thirteenth? Why?

- You did.
- You are not me.

You have no talent for peace.

I can't just leave her.

- You think with your p*nis.
- It's not like that.

- I've not touched her.
- Then what purpose does she serve?

I just like to look at her.

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.

Pullo!

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?
- I don't want her.

- It's nice of you to think of it...
- But you want a sl*ve.

You keep asking for one,
and here she is.

Pullo can't keep her,
and it costs us nothing.

Can't I have one of
your Gaulish sl*ves?

I've told you,
my Gauls are unseasoned.

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. Keep calm.

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 even suspected anything

he'd go straight to Vorenus
and tell him, wouldn't he?

- 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 c*ck
if asked nicely.

Too generous by far.

I never thought for an instant
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 the 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
three hundred old men.

As you say, Antony,
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.

First spear centurion,
Lucius Vorenus.

I have 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.

- Flux?
- 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?
- Not nothing.

The boy will fetch a good price
when he's healthy.

- What's that?
- Your father brought him back

from Gaul.
What will we do till then?

- To keep!
- We're selling him...

as soon as he gets some color back.

What will we do after that?

- 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.

Just 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

I am not unmanned.

Intolerable.

Intolerable!

Calm yourself, mother, please.
You've become unbalanced.

Why care so much who he beds?
It is trivium.

How 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.

Tutor? What tutor?

It's high time you learned
the masculine arts.

How to fight and copulate
and skin animals and so forth.

There's plenty of time yet
for all that.

There's plenty of time for you...

to bury yourself
in worthless scribbles.

You may read those old Greek fools
until blood runs from your eyes

- you'll be none the wiser.
- I cannot agree.

The Greek philosophers
have much to teach us.

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!

Pullo.

Defend!

Shield. 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 k*ll.

There's plenty of soldier in you.

It's not the k*lling.

It's the waving about of swords
I find tedious.

I dare say I can k*ll people
readily enough...

as long as they're not fighting back.

Never fear, young dominus.

We'll make a regular terror of you.

At best I will be
a middling swordsman.

- It's better than nothing.
- There you are wrong.

The 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.

Something terrible.

Would you tell the husband
of the suspicious article?

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...

is real enough to 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?

What now?

How happy.

To be a sl*ve.

To have no will.

To make no decisions.

Driftwood.

How very restful it must be!

- Erastes Fulmen.
- Centurion.

I have 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 sl*ves were taken
by the black flux.

But once I raise capital,
I'll go up North and 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, moneylending.

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.

You're right.
Thank you for your time.

Centurion, there are other ways
to make money.

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 thirteenth.

- 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.

I can't... I...

Damn you! Damn her!
I am your wife.

Me. I am your wife.

Lyde!

That's lovely.

It's not too army-like?

Like a man of deep business.

I'm no business man.
I'm just a bodyguard.

It's a start.

Please, please, just for me.

What is the matter with everybody?

Lock him up, girls! Lock him up!

Oy, Calpurnia!

Yes!

Calpurnia!

Calpurnia.

Do not trouble yourself with denial.

I did not intend to.

Be rid of her and we'll say no more.

- Let us not...
- 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 public-like.

Enough of that Teuton droning!

If you want to whistle
like someone's bum-boy

whistle a good Roman song at least.

And she complained I was like...

- an elephant.
- Tanjit.

my honey duck

- you're looking well.
- Erastes Fulmen.

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,
Tanjit.

I'm very depressed.

I thought we were businessmen

I thought we 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?

Fifty pigs you have as ordered.

Fifty diseased and scrofulous pigs.

- And one knows how to find truffles.
- Tricky beasts.

Haven't been eating acorns,
have they?

f*ck them for truffling,
too much 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.

- Is 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 then?

Not at all.

Break his arm.

Break his arm!

Give me my money, you monkey's c**t.

Kiss my a*s!

Cut his throat.

Cut it!

What are you doing?

What happened?

What's wrong? Tell me.

Erastes Fulmen asked me
to k*ll a man.

You refused him?

What else was I to do?

- I am no bandit.
- Of course you're 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

and we shall not see
each other again.

What? Never?

Never.

Don't joke so.

I am not joking.

Is this because of
some foolish graffi..

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 thirteenth...

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 will 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.

I wish to accept your offer.

My offer?

Of entry into evocati.

If the same terms still apply.

I said you could join evocati?

With respect, sir, you did.

What terms did I offer?

Evocati prefect, first grade,
ten thousand 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 nine thousand 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,
nine thousand 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, Megaera and Nemesis

so that they witness this curse.

By the spirits of my ancestors

I curse Gaius Julius Caesar.

Let his p*nis 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 r*pe 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 then, friend.
- What do you want?

Tell us what's between you and Niobe.

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... I would never...

Maybe he's telling the truth.

- Lying.
- I'm not!

- I'm not!
- Lying.

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 k*ll 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 to us,
we'll t*rture you.

You'll die only after many hours
of agony and horror.

But give us honesty now,
and you'll go swiftly, painlessly.

- Please.
- Evander

tell the truth.

t*rture him.

Juno's c**t, 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.

k*ll me if you must.

Hold!

What else?

Nothing else.

k*ll 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!
- Child?

What child?

Lucius.

The baby.

Please, k*ll me now. Please.

Lucius? Vorena's 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.

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.