01x07 - Pharsalus

[bunniefuu]

Perhaps if we retreat
to the coast via Thessaly

we could hold out
until the rains come.

If we go eastward,
they'll be able to cut us off here.

Of course. It will not do.

Ready.

Maps never redraw themselves,
if that's what you're waiting for.

He's right.

We shall just have to fight
the wretches here where we stand.

And beat them.

Oh, we shall crush them, doubtless.

Dinner for worms.

The whole damn lot of 'em.

Dinner for worms.

Try to avoid bloodshed this time.

Wait a while and Pompey
can shave you instead.

Torquatus should have something, no?

A praetorship, perhaps?

If Torquatus is given high office

then Varro must be given same,
else we'll see no end of trouble.

But then what do we give Labienus?

- Macedonia?
- Bithynia.

Macedonia to Libo.

Plums for your people
and porridge for the rest?

Macedonia and Bythnia
are not yet ours to bestow.

You are cooking rabbits
that have not been caught.

Our particular rabbit
is cornered, starving

and has lost near two thousand men.

I think we may safely say...

that here is a rabbit
ready for the pot.

- Why so melancholy, Brutus?
- Do I seem so?

Forgive me.

No, Caesar's defeat is a glory.

We cannot endure tyrants...

But I cannot celebrate it.

He was as my father to me.

I feel for you.

- When do we strike?
- Strike? We have already struck.

We have him down,
but he is not dead yet.

When do we strike the final blow?

There will not be one.

If we simply keep him bottled up
a month or so more

the remains of his army
will disintegrate and disappear...

- at no cost to us.
- Is that honorable?

Caesar has driven us from Rome,
chased us out of Italy

k*lled our friends,
usurped our republic.

Surely, dignity and honor demands
we walk in his blood.

- Certainly, knee-deep.
- But you would have hunger

do our work for us!

We must attack Caesar and k*ll him
under the eyes of Mars

- else our victory is empty.
- He has sense.

It will look better at home
if we win by force.

You are Pompey Magnus.

Conquer and crush enemies
as if they were insects.

People will be disappointed
by anything less.

News from Greece.

Mark Antony is safe

but most of the ships in his fleet
sent in aid of Gaius Julius Caesar...

have been lost at sea.

Caesar is now surrounded
and severely outnumbered.

The forces of the Republic
and Senate and of Pompey Magnus...

confidently expect a decisive victory
to follow shortly.

- There you are.
- Here I am.

I ask Timon for protection...

and he sends me a bunch
of half-wits and clowns!

- Dear me.
- Caesar will soon be dead...

by every account,
and we shall be undefended.

We may as well be
lying naked in the street!

You must go to Servilia
and ask for a few of her men...

- to stand outside for us.
- Why?

So that they can guard our doors
in her name, silly.

I mean, why must I go?

As if I would go begging to Servilia.
I think not.

I'll not go begging for you.

Don't be so childish.
It's not as if she'll refuse.

- You think?
- Why would she?

Those lovely gifts I gave her?

- What did she say?
- Nothing.

Nothing.

- She said something.
- She said nothing.

You're very arrogant, that's all.

Think you can buy her friendship
with stud sl*ves and tortoises?

And six barrels of ice.

- I would rather not go.
- You would rather not go.

You would rather be g*ng-r*ped
by slavering proles...

while your mother's house
burns down around you.

Frankly, I'm past caring.

One day Caesar is winning
and you crow happily

next day he is losing,
and I must go a-begging?

I just want this vile w*r to be over,
one way or the other.

Octavia, it is over.

That is why you must go
to Servilia's house.

It's a bore, I know,
but there we are.

Lyde.

Very nice.

Don't.

I'm glad to see you.

I've been worried about you.

No need.

I'm doing very well.

Not as well as you, obviously.

Do you need money?

I've got money if you need some.

I'm sure you have.

Turns out your man
backed the right horse.

Fortune loves you.

I don't know if Vorenus
is alive or dead.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I didn't want to be like this.

I'm so tired, Niobe.

I'm tired of being angry.

I'm tired of...

hating you.

You're all I've got.

I'm sorry.

Do you want some honey water?

You're wasting your time!

We'll die of thirst
long before we die of hunger.

We could drink their blood.

Repeat?

All these dead men

we can drink their blood.

Too salty.

Only make you more thirsty.

Putrid by now anyway.

Doesn't matter.

Everything will be fine.

This is where we die.

What are you writing?

A message to Niobe.

All right.

Good idea.

Send my best to Eirene,
will you, while you're at it?

If there's space.

Graces, don't we look lovely?

If I am to be a beggar,
I will not look like one.

I am not objecting, my honey

though you will remind Servilia
of what an old trout she has become.

I'm just happy to see you
looking so pretty for once.

You do so often insist on
playing the frump.

- I hope your mother thrives.
- She does.

- And your son?
- Also.

My mother sends me to ask a favor.

She fears the consequences
of this last battle in Greece.

Understandably.

She has enjoyed her ascendancy
a little too well.

She asks you to
lend her some men

to protect our
door in your name.

Of course.

Eleni, send Ajax
and three or four others

- whoever he thinks best.
- Thank you.

It's very kind of you.

I told my mother...

- she should not presume...
- Please.

She shall have what she needs.

Forgive me. You are so good to us.

- We do not deserve it.
- Don't.

I must look affright.

No, not really.

You look lovely.

I better go home.

So soon?

My mother will be worried.

If you feel you should...

Octavia...

Thank you.

Send to Rome.

Tell them...

the decisive battle...

begins today.

Sir! Pompey's legions are in
the field in battle-array!

Thank you, Fulvio.
Have you forgotten how to salute?

I haven't, sir.
No excuse, sir.

Gracchus, sound assembly!

- Have Xeno saddle my horse.
- Sir!

- We will accept battle?
- Certainly. Why not?

We are outnumbered...

three to one on foot
and five to one on horse.

What uninjured men we have
are scared and hungry and desperate.

That is the advantage,
we must press home.

I was not aware
irony had military usage.

We must win or die.

Pompey's men have other options.

Goodbye, Posca.

Caesar! Caesar! Caesar!

Send to Rome.
Tell them Caesar has won.

Sir!

Caesar's men are coming!

I've cut my hand.

We have to go, sir!
They'll catch you.

It's not deep

but it hurts.

They will k*ll you!

It's of no consequence.

Our forces are routed.

What are we to do?

We shall fight again
another day, I do not doubt

- And prevail!
- and prevail.

But for the present
we must look to our safety.

Our safety is nothing.

We must leave Greece
and look to fresh levies.

And may one ask where?

Africa.
We must rally the cities of Africa.

Africa.

Dear gods, we are fast
running out of continents.

And coin!

We have taxed every last coin
from Greece and spent it all!

What shall we use
to buy Africa's loyalty?

- Seashells?
- We need buy nothing!

We are the Senate of Rome!

We are old men
with mud on our shoes!

We are not beaten
until we are dead.

The republic lives
as long as we do!

You may fight on as you wish.

As for me

I will go from here
and surrender myself to Caesar.

Have you no dignity?

- No honor?
- Some little, I hope.

Not so much as you, of course.

- Caesar will k*ll you.
- That may be.

I'm not afraid to die.

I'm tired.

I want to go home.

Yes. My feelings exact.

Brutus!
Without the force of your name

- the cause of the...
- Do not!

Do not talk to me of the Republic.

If I had known...

what wretched company and
rotten food I would endure

if I had known
what an old fool is Pompey

I would never have left Rome.

Forgive my anger.

- I am not myself.
- Think nothing of it.

I merit your disappointment.

I propose we make for Amphipolis.

I have men and money there,
and we can go by sea to Egypt.

Ptolemy's children
are loyal friends of mine.

Perhaps...

Perhaps it's better
we do not travel together.

Perhaps you're right.

Better.

No doubt.

I don't understand it.

Something should have
turned up by now.

I'm not meant to die this way.

- You were misinformed.
- Doesn't seem right.

Still...

It'd be good
to see my mother again.

Do you think they have a system...

- for finding people?
- What?

In the afterlife.
How do you go about finding people?

There must be millions of them.

Must be.

She won't recognize me, probably.

I was very young when she died.

Probably give her
a big scare though?

Big, ugly brute coming along
and giving her a hug.

- Look at that.
- What?

That corpse.

See how high it rides in the water?

The plutonic aether inflates him.

What of it?

You've not been drinking seawater,
have you?

Husband, eat.

Yeah.

Over here, my dear. Here.

Little salty.

Not at all. It's good, neh?

Delicious, mama.

Bona DEA, look at your faces.

Sillies.

Helen?

Helen!

Husband, wake up!
Our people are leaving.

Now now, my darlings.
Don't be scared.

We're on an adventure.

The first one to see
the sea and cry out...

will have a peach
when we get to Amphipolis.

You, your name again?

- Lysandros.
- Lysandros, how far to Amphipolis?

Very close. Close.

We will continue there as planned.

You're not to announce my identity
to those that we meet.

And if they ask?

Mella.

- Aeneas Mella.
- Hear and obey, captain.

And who'll pay?

Pay?

You've been paid already.

For guiding, not for protection.

I have many men and supplies
and ample coin in Amphipolis.

You will be paid there.

None with you now?

- Coin?
- None!

I'll tolerate no more
of your impudence!

No disrespect, captain.
Only asking.

We go.

[Foreign language]

Magna morta...

Magna morta...

Magna morta...

You drive me insane
with your wretched muttering.

What is wrong that
you must harass the gods so?

- Nothing.
- Stop it then.

Servilia sends to invite you
to weave with her tomorrow.

I cannot.

Of course you can.
I've already accepted.

- I cannot!
- I know she's tedious.

I mean, really, weaving.

But we must keep her happy
for the time being.

But...

- The sea!
- The sea!

Unison. You shall both
have a peach.

Look, mama. Dead people.

It's good.

Where do you come from?

- Brindisi.
- Romans?

I know you.

Where do I know you from?

I have not seen you before.

I'm sure I've seen you somewhere.

Leave them water and bread,
we need to be going.

Leave them? Weak as they are?

I have no time to waste.

Soon be dark anyhow.

We camp here.
Get to Amphipolis in the morning.

I insist we go on.

Relax, old man.

We get there.

You rest easy now, boys.

Eat, drink, get your strength back.

You and me will be good friends.

You want my c*ck up you...

or are you going
to build a damn fire?

I told you we'd be all right.

There's no pleasing some.

We stop here?

Why so early?

Best to, I think.

Be dark soon.

Who are they?

How should I know?
Who cares who they are?

Sorry.

Sorry.

All will be well.

I assure you.

All will be well.

Pompey Magnus.

That man looks exactly
like Pompey Magnus.

That's why I thought I'd met him.

Don't point.

- Never.
- It's hard to believe.

His wife and sprouts too.

Caesar's going to drown us
in gold. Thank you.

Cac!

What do we do?

I don't know yet.

Thank you for coming.

Mother insisted.

I understand you want me
to do some weaving with you.

I'm sorry you are upset.

The last time we saw each other...

It's of no consequence.

Are you fond of weaving?

So did I.

And how is your brother?

- Is he still in Mediolanum?
- He is.

Lovely town, so I'm told.

- Healthy air.
- Domina?

What is it, Eleni?

Word from Greece.

Caesar has won.

And Pompey's armies
are completely destroyed.

And my son?

No word.

Don't cry.

Halt! In the name of Rome!

Calls himself Rome, now, does he?

Shameless.

Who are you
and what's your purpose?

We are Rome, boy.

What's left of it.

Come to surrender to your chief.

Brutus!

Cicero!

How happy I am to see you.

I thought you were dead.

Sir, I...

I am come here honorably

with no request for mercy

to surrender my arms
and my horses as is...

We'll have no talk of surrender.

We've merely quarreled a little.
Now we are friends again.

That is most generous of you
and natural to your manly nature...

- but I cannot...
- My poor boy.

I'm sorry. I am so sorry.

It is I who am sorry.

I presented you with
an impossible dilemma.

You did only what you thought
honorable, I'm sure.

I kiss you for it.

Thank you.

I will not forget this grace.

As I was saying, a most generous...

But what of Pompey? Tell me he lives.

- He lives.
- Thank the gods. Where is he?

He...

He does not plan to surrender.

That is insane.

He cannot escape. Where can he go?

Is Scipio with him?

Cato?

They have fled to Africa.

What am I thinking of?

Asking you questions...

when you must be
so hungry and thirsty?

Come.

I...

- I think I would rather...
- I insist.

Come.

So with this hand, otherwise engaged

I had to take that worm
and beat him with my fists...

over and over and over again!

His father,
King Ptolemy Auletes the Twelfth

was a close friend of mine.

I was always assured
a loving welcome in Egypt.

I remember on one occasion
I was out hunting with the king.

We were hunting lions, you see.

Only the king was rather
a poor bowman...

and we couldn't tell
if the lion was wounded or dead.

So, we sneaked up to the lion,
keeping...

Hello, friends.

Feeling better, neh? Strong?

Strong enough.

Tell me something.
What's the name of that Roman?

His name is...

Aeneas Mella.

- Aeneas Mella.
- That's what he said.

What do you hear
of Caesar and Pompey?

They fought, I heard.

And?

You know who won.

Tell us.

I was going to let you in anyway.

What is he talking about?

You boys are clever fellows,
I bet.

Know how to fight.

Me and my boys
can't take his people alone.

Us and you together, no problem.

We go down middle on the reward.

- Not a bad idea.
- You can have the wife and children

I take the sl*ves.

Walk away...

and do not speak of this again.

I see. Think you don't need me.

Think you can keep
the reward for yourself?

f*ck you. Not going to happen.

- Don't.
- f*ck you!

I gave you your lives back.
I can take them away again, easy.

When I am finished speaking

you will turn and run... that way.

That way? What about this way?

Do not stop until
you are out of my sight...

and do not delay,
or I will k*ll you.

What is wrong with him?

I am finished speaking.

A bit harsh, isn't it?

Fair enough deal
he was offering, I thought.

- What is the meaning of this?
- Sir...

Speak up!
This man was in my employ!

- He planned to as*ault you, sir.
- How do you know?

He asked us to participate.

You refused, stabbed him to death
on my behalf.

A good friend to me
on such short acquaintance.

- What is your name?
- I am Lucius Vorenus.

Prefect of the evocati
of the thirteenth legion...

of Gaius Julius Caesar.

Titus Pullo, legionary of same.

Salve, Lucius Vorenus.

I am...

Aeneas Mella...

of Pergamum.

Aeneas Mella.

You must consider yourself
under my charge.

I do not understand.

Consider yourself a prisoner
of the thirteenth legion.

- I'm just a merchant.
- We know who you are, sir.

I own you now! Understand?

You, you, bury him.

The rest of you

- don't let them leave.
- Lucius Vorenus.

I must speak with you alone.

Stay here.

Of course I do not say I am
who you think I am

but I have spent
some years in the army.

Perhaps we met
on some campaign or other.

Perhaps that's why
I seem familiar.

Perhaps.

I recall the thirteenth...

- was at Alesia.
- We were.

There's a battle
I've always wished to have seen.

Twenty-five miles of works,
wasn't it?

- Nearer thirty.
- Thirty?

- How many men did you have?
- Sixty thousand.

Against...

- Almost double the Gauls?
- At least double.

The best men of every tribe in Gaul.

Caesar can fight.

I'll give him that.

I remember...

when he was not much older than you.

I sent him to winter quarters in...

Where was it?

No matter.

Long time gone.

I must ask you, sir, if I may.

How did you come to this road?

Surely...

Pompey had Caesar
at greater disadvantage.

He did.

He did.

It didn't seem possible to lose.

That's always a bad sign.

The b*ttlefield was on a plain

by a river at the foot of some...

low hills.

Like this, you see.

The lines met here.

My men held their ground well

so I sent my horses
at his right flank.

Which is perfectly correct

- you'll agree.
- I do.

Only the cowards were repulsed.

Repulsed by a single cohort
of reserves.

Turned and fled,
two hundred horses.

Crashed directly into my left flank.

Rolled up my line like a carpet.

Put the whole damned army to flight.

And here I am.

That's how Pompey Magnus

was defeated.

That's how the Republic died.

- Good night, sir.
- Wait.

I will not...

I will not ask favor
or mercy for myself. But I beg you.

Consider the fate...

of my wife and children.

Let me take them to Egypt
where they will be safe...

among friends.

Consider them.

Go back to sleep.

Unwise and unfriendly, I call it.

Unwise and unfriendly.

And for why?

Why?

We had him. We had him.

Horses. Never mind, horses.
Never mind gold.

Caesar would have given us farms...

and fields and orchards
and great flocks of sl*ves

and cattle and Dis knows what...

'Sist! Pompey Magnus is
no damn sl*ve to be sold for money.

Don't see why not!

There's a great deal you don't see.

There's a great deal
he doesn't see neither.

You and only twelve other men
survived that storm.

Out of five thousand.

You're being kept alive
for some great purpose, no doubt.

You know, sir...

- He has some interesting news.
- Indeed?

Sir, in course of our journey here

we encountered Gnaeus Pompey Magnus
with his family

and a party of servants.

- Where?
- On the road to Amphipolis

- with a mule train.
- A mule train.

It's priceless.

He intends to take ship
for Egypt, sir.

Family and servants, you say.

- No soldiers?
- None, sir.

Not one man left, not one.

Poor wretch.

Why then, be that so
did you not apprehend him?

Now here's the onion.

I thought it would be wrong
to do so.

Explain yourself.

His hands trembled, sir.

His clothes were dirty.

There was water in his eyes.
He is broken.

I saw no need to apprehend him.

I'd like to add that legionary Pullo
took no part in my decision, sir.

You saw no need.

Do you not see
that Pompey may be broken...

like a Dacian catamite
and still be dangerous?

If he is still living

he will be a standard
around which our enemies will gather!

As long as he can be
propped on a horse, he's dangerous!

But you saw no need to apprehend him?

I did not, sir.

Who by the sons of Dis

gives you the right
to make such judgment?

Sir, I am aware that
I have not done my duty...

and I respectfully ask your pardon.

My pardon, he asks.

I ought to have you
scourged and crucified.

In future you will remember
that it is I...

that offers mercy. No one else.

Clear?

Clear, sir.

Dismissed.

I do not like to disagree with you

but you are being
far too lenient with him.

He let Pompey go
and you let him live?

The man should be made
an example of!

Any other man, certainly.

But those two...

They found my stolen standard.

Now they survive a wreck
that drowned an army...

and find Pompey Magnus on a beach.

They have powerful gods
on their side.

And I will not k*ll any man
with friends of that sort.

Posca.

Tell Fulvio to start breaking camp.

We're going to Egypt.

General Pompey, sir.

Remember me?

Lucius Septimius.

Centurion Septimius, as was.

I was with you in Spain.

Fourth legion, third cohort.

Lucius Septimius, of course.

What are you doing here,
of all places?

Working for the Gyppoes, sir.

I know, sir.
It's not the fourth by no means.

A man's got to earn his salt though.

Sure enough.

What's all this then, soldier?

Not much of a welcome party.

You know Egyptians, sir.
It's just their way.

- Funny people.
- That they are.

Onward, friend.

I'm sorry, sir.