Original subtitles

Begin!

From the savage lands of Kush, Achillia, the Goddess of Death.

There are none but men beneath this roof,

and you but stand the least offensive.

I would see her stand victorious in the arena,

only to offer fatal blow myself.

I prepare for travel at break of morning sun.

You remain?

The gods themselves could not pry me loose.

Seize them!

Cilicians. Your men nearly had my fucking life.

Yet here you stand.

Was purse not swelled with coin in return for manoeuvring

Cossutia and her daughter to appointed time and place?

- A decision now held in regret. - It is a disappointment

I shall not find you among my worshippers.

Nor perhaps at all among the living.

What do I stand towards you?

Yes!

Achillia! Achillia!

Spirit her to fucking medicus. Go!

She cannot die on eve of greatest victory!

Is concern for the woman or your fucking house?

The two stand entwined, you bearded fuck!

Shhh.

Neferet! Neferet!

The gods bless us with one hand

and ram fist up ass with the other.

Achillia was not alone in victory. Tarchon, Celadus--

The crowds did not raise their names towards the heavens.

They lifted Achillia's.

Our fortune rests with her and her alone.

- Does she yet draw breath? - She does.

Yet sundered hand must be removed before infection sets.

You would see my champion crippled?

- There is no other path. - Do I not possess fucking leg

after grievous wound inflicted by

the fucking Gaul Crixus in the arena?

The medicus of Batiatus restored limb,

and here I stand before you.

Then present the man

and see him towards better result.

He perished during conflict with mad Thracian.

Carry my greetings.

Argh!

That was ill advised.

We find ourselves in need of a medicus.

How were relations left between you and Opiter?

Favorable.

Will she live?

You have shown no concern towards the Nubian,

yet now it blooms?

Only towards pressing need.

Messages arrive requesting appearance

of the Goddess of Death.

Who requests her?

Everyone.

- Hmm. - How shall I reply?

Make no promise towards her presence, nor condition,

yet sow notion where she stands immortal

and shall rise as phoenix upon a day.

And if fabled bird plummets?

Then this house falls with her.

Apologies.

I did not realise my bath stood occupied.

Mmm.

Mmm.

None required.

Purpose has been seen to completion.

The old fool Gabinius stood pleased your champion

did not perish -

at least... not in the arena.

A sentiment to be turned towards advantage.

Make no move absent my blessing.

- Mm. - I shall think upon it.

Messia, remain to attend Dominus.

I would see her hands towards loftier task.

Come.

Yes, Domina.

She stands your slave to command.

Not that of Caesar's bitch.

Cornelia carries weight of family name eclipsing that

of even noble husband.

She must be tolerated, upon the moment.

See bath drained and refreshed.

I will not soak in waters tainted

by her passions.

I did not expect to see you so far from slumber

- at such an hour. - See that broken,

and fingers to follow.

What errand has the Syrian set you upon now?

He would entreat use of your medicus.

- What of your own man? - He has...

taken wing.

Our champion is in need of urgent care and discretion.

You will have both.

Sentius, fetch Echemus.

Yes, Dominus.

- Gratitude. - Retain it.

I no longer have use for the man.

You depart Capua?

Your powers of observation are truly unmatched.

Were you to break fucking word in advance of deed?

Towards what purpose?

I grow weary of forever giving chase.

Perhaps in Sicilia I shall find myself the object of pursuit.

- Is that where you flee? - I merely seize moment

towards more favorable ventures.

As do all who hasten exit at darkest hour.

See yourself to street. I must attend to my affairs.

No.

Give voice to what truly moves you to sudden action.

And see burden shared.

You know well what moves me.

Do you not you live beneath the roof

of the House of fucking Caesar?

Caesar?

But what hold does the man have towards you?

I aided in his ruse of Cilician attack...

and in protesting life lost in such

now stand the object of his fucking wrath.

The Cilicians were Caesar's men?

You did not know?

No, I did not.

Nor your part in the fucking scheme.

As I did not know Caesar's desires rose towards blood.

Now I stand trapped as insect fixed upon web

and would see myself removed from Capua before spider returns

with venomous intent.

Hmm.

So we fall from one another.

Such need not hold true.

Stay at my side.

Let us away to Sicilia together.

I cannot leave my duties.

Duties of treachery

and bloodshed the Syrian compels?

Do not take my meaning unkindly, yet a man of your years

is blessed by each passing day.

Do you wish to spend those remaining in servitude

to such a... creature?

You would have me abandon all I hold towards honour?

I would but have you strive for something more.

Turn from cold, uncaring arms,

in favour of loving embrace.

Can you fucking save her?

- What words does the man break? - Greek.

Did you not think to ask if he could speak

common fucking tongue?

You stand Syrian. Do you not grasp the man's language?

Towards completion of simple trade, I am your man.

Beyond such, I stand as ignorant as you-

- Uh... - Fuck.

Huh? Fuck. Fuck!

Uh...

Who within our house grasps the man's tongue?

Knowledge your fucking doctore does not hold.

I do not care for your fucking tone.

Nor I for life being put at peril,

absent awareness.

Who has done so?

The villain stands before me.

Opiter confides that our coming upon the Cilician attack

was not by happenstance.

Nor were they Cilicians.

How has he come by this?

Then he breaks truth. You conspired with Caesar

to stage attack to gain favour with Gabinius.

My hand holds no place in this.

Caesar moved pieces upon board absent consultation

with the villain before you, you fucking shit.

- When did you discover such? - Only after his arrival.

What part does Opiter play in this?

Moved by Caesar's purse, he saw Cossutia

to appointed time and place. He now takes flight to Sicilia

for fear his tongue will be forever stilled

to conceal misdeed.

He moves as anyone with fucking sense

when confronted with the ambitions of Caesar.

Why was threat carried not revealed to me

when you learned of it?

You'll know of my thoughts...

when I deem it fucking so.

Argh!

Dominus!

- I would ask towards Achillia. - Return to fucking purpose

or see yourself to like fate in the arena.

Yes, Dominus.

Apologies.

What shit do you give for the Nubian?

If the bitch falls, we rise.

She stands champion and should be honoured as such.

Do you hold worry towards the champion...

or the woman?

Turn mind towards training...

or see teeth from fucking mouth.

We must present a champion to stand for Achillia

till she regains rightful place.

Who would you choose?

Do you not hold vaunted title of fucking doctore?

Attend!

Contest shall be held.

The victor shall claim mantle of champion

until the gods return Achillia to the sands of the arena.

- Prepare yourselves. - Hold.

I would see contest of more intimate nature.

- Viridia. - The finest of your men

presented as entertainment for noble guests.

Let us make selection from the Syrian's meagre stock.

Which would you desire towards closer inspection?

Hmm.

- That one stands of a form. - Hmm.

She favours you, as aged cat towards slow witted mouse.

The one beside him also pulls attention.

Claws extend towards less savoury meal as well.

And what of beloved daughter.

Does no one draw interest?

Perhaps... that one?

Let us choose less seasoned meat.

You.

See them washed and brought up at once.

Let us to wine and food in time between.

Hmm.

It is not enough she commands villa;

Cornelia seeks to consume ludus as well.

There's always the cliff, which you appear to favour.

See the men to fucking contest.

I will return the others to flock upon hour

pried from vulture's grasp.

It did not cross mind to inform me of fucking guests?

I was unaware of their presence. Messia attends Domina's whims.

Cornelia does not stand domina of this fucking house.

Apologies. How shall I address her?

I do not fucking know.

Busy yourself with useful purpose and remain far

afield from her gaze.

Lest it set you ablaze for base amusement.

- Go. - Dominus.

As requested, the finest offering of the House of Ashur,

rivalling any within fair city.

Hmm. Opiter's men stand more pleasing to discerning eye.

Unfortunate veil obscures fullness of consideration.

Hmm.

Remove your subligarias.

Mmm.

That one stands a wonder, does he not?

I defer to wisdom of experience upon subject.

Did you not also once stand a gladiator, Syrian?

A god of the arena, my victories legend.

Let us weigh boisterous claim

and witness evidence of the divine.

I must gently remind... I stand dominus in this house--

And I stand heir to the storied name of Cinna,

far surpassing that of claimed title.

- Mother. - We are but guests here

and hold no sway upon desire of gracious host.

Gratitude. I would see you honoured by requested display.

Impressive.

Yet offering falls...

short of promised divinity.

You may go.

You really must visit Capua more often.

The city does present amusement, yet I long for Rome

- and more civilised clime. - Mm. We are of similar mind.

Yet I am moored to this fucking place by my husband's sentiment

towards childhood home.

Apologies. The heat and the wine-

Stomach turns. I would seek repose,

to rejoin when humours permit.

Of course. See her to my bedchambers.

Gratitude, yet I noted them upon entry

and would not leave you unattended.

She is of a rather delicate nature, is she not?

She stands her mother's daughter-

and shall reflect such upon a moment.

Hmm.

Apologies. I do not mean to intrude upon thoughts.

Your presence welcomes an end to them.

May I offer wine?

I fear I have already indulged to excess.

Does such a thing exist?

Gratitude. For cup...

and temperate response to unfortunate jest.

A thing of no concern.

My father holds that women cluck like hens.

But he is mistaken,

it is the rasping of hawks, circling wounded prey.

I stand unscathed.

She was in error.

Caesar's wife.

Your boasts proved true, once again.

In all regards.

Apologies. I must...

tend to Achillia.

May I fall by your side?

I long to lay eyes upon such marvel again.

Doctore?

Celadus! Victor!

You almost had me, brother.

A lie.

Yet well received.

- Thoughts appear elsewhere. - As do yours.

I would ask to see Achillia, upon your discretion.

Towards what end?

I saw to her training in your absence

and stood friend to her.

My presence may prove a comfort towards recovery.

Her fate lies far removed from mortal grasp.

Fix mind on contest to stand in her place.

Hedylus!

Helios!

Take position.

Begin!

I do not understand your words, you Greek fuck!

He says to place bit in mouth so she does not sever tongue.

Uh...

gratitude.

My knowledge of Greek does not extend so far a distance.

My husband had many dealings with their people.

He wished me to be able to break words with them

when entertaining at our villa.

Apologies. I did not mean painful memory exhumed.

When my husband fell, it was as if heart had been

sundered from chest.

He must have stood a titan, to warrant such emotion.

He was a good man. And well loved.

Yet as days churn,

grief shifts from husband to greater loss.

I do not grasp meaning.

Our union was arranged towards benefit of both our families.

I devoted life to his,

absent consideration of my own.

You now hold regret, being so bound to him?

As I said, he was a good man -

gentle, kind.

Yet as his memory fades,

unsettled notion weighs upon mind.

Give it name, if you are so able.

It is a thought born of a whisper,

grown to deafening roar...

that what I grieve now is not his loss,

but that of purpose and desire denied as my own

that perhaps this world offers more than husband

and promise of children,

of a villa filled with pretty, empty things...

I among them.

What has moved you to such revelation?

You.

And your presentation of a woman upon the sands of the arena,

in opposition of all I have been taught

is our proper place in the republic.

Together, you have shown me that I stand but spectre

haunting this body...

conjured by ritual of loving parents

and husband chosen absent consent.

It is a grave honour, then...

to have played a part, however small, in...

awakening towards higher purpose.

My mother would vehemently disagree.

She has proven...

difficult, upon occasion.

The fault lies not in her alone.

She is but wild bird confined to gilded cage,

bars forged by the traditions of men.

Do I... not stand as such?

Allow me to amend.

Forged by traditions of Roman men.

Ah.

He says he's done all he can for her

and that she's in the hands of the gods now.

Then she stands alone.

You blaspheme.

I but speak of experience.

I hold that we are never truly alone...

if heart is held open.

I shall make offering to the gods,

coupled with prayer towards Achillia's health

and prosperity.

And yours as well.

Jupiter truly blesses us this day.

They do stand enticing vision,

despite labouring beneath the Syrian.

Which do you favour?

Difficult to judge, given current form.

Then let us see expectations... raised.

Present yourselves in more... heroic fashion.

Shall we retrieve errant daughter

- to lay eyes upon display? - I fear thoughts towards

fallen husband might temper enjoyment.

She must brave to sail upon the seas of marriage once more,

in advance of youth faded.

You yet have thoughts towards Caesar's man?

The name Quintus Thermus does rise by day and hour.

Yet I fear my own husband,

whose allegiance lies firmly... with Pompey.

Pompey shall fade from concern, as he shall from history.

Securing future of daughter,

by extension, that of deserving mother,

is all that should move decision.

You would have me take position

counter to desires...

of my husband?

I would but see your own satisfied.

I fear you mistake me.

I mistake nothing.

Celadus stands at forefront of standing.

Yet Tarchon,

Erato and Ephesius were not among contest,

occupied as they were.

See them returned to purpose at break of day.

Mood appears lifted.

Achillia improves?

She remains caught between this world and the next.

Yet hope and heart...

blossoms.

She has proven herself beyond expectations.

She rose to champion upon your fucking instruction,

despite reservation towards presenting a woman

in the games.

I but did what any doctore would.

You stand overly humble.

Achillia's victory has ignited and inspired this city in...

unexpected ways.

You honour me.

I but break truth.

Neglected by passions of more inflamed moment.

If nothing further is required of me,

I would fall from ludus towards personal matter.

Go, you fucking goat.

And may it involve cock and the pleasuring of it.

Where has the shadow that darkened this house fallen?

Domina has taken to bedchambers,

filled with wine and visions of heroic offerings.

Do not refer to her as Domina.

- Is that not what she stands? - Name her fucking Athena

if the doing of such bends her to more pleasant mood.

Yes, Dominus.

May slumbering beast remain sated

and quietude return.

Bring food,

in advance of my own fucking dreams.

You fall to her side as obedient pet.

- I do but as commanded. - Absent complaint.

Has any ever served purpose in this fucking house?

What words did she break with Cossutia,

in absence of Dominus?

None of note.

Dispatched by the Syrian once more?

My will is my own.

I come to offer gratitude for allowing use of your medicus.

Achillia recovers?

She has been given chance to do so, upon your kindness.

Such was extended to neither her nor the Syrian.

Then I extend gratitude from my lips alone.

And offer gift...

in return.

I have never witnessed you absent it.

When I won my freedom in the arena,

I bought the first bauble I laid eyes upon in the market.

A foolish waste of coin.

Yet it stood symbol...

of what could be achieved

if heart is set towards unwavering future.

You will accompany me to Sicilia, then?

The thought of abandoning the House of Ashur

- still troubles mind. - The Syrian has proved himself

most resourceful. He shall survive.

It is not his survival that causes worry.

You believe he would strike against me...

if I were to wrest you from him?

You do not know the man as I do.

He is consumed by erratic passions,

often culminating in murderous win.

I have seen him, in fit of temper,

seize the life of one of his most valued gladiators,

amongst scarce stock,

with but shattered jug of wine.

Perhaps loss of prized doctore may be balanced

by offering he would hold towards larger value.

What miracle would you invoke to tame lethal tempest?

An unexpected bounty.

One he shall find impossible to turn from.

As I find the thought of your hands upon me...

impossible to strike from mind.

A sentiment closely shared.

Fucking cunts!

You betray me for this...

semblance of a man?

I stand titan to those who know true worth.

Let us come to reason and make offer benefitting all.

Offer Jupiter's cock in place of my own

and it will not stand sufficient.

I present something of larger interest.

Well, birth thought from fucking head

so I may strangle it till fucking lifeless.

My villa and ludus,

and all men contained within

in exchange for but one of yours.

Korris stands a free man

and can take leave upon fucking whim.

Why part with such abundance to purchase what is not owned?

The cost comes not towards me

but assurance that you and I will part absent malice...

or retribution.

And who will stand in your place as valued doctore?

- Elevate Celadus to position. - Celadus?

He aided in the training of Achillia

after I was set upon by Proculus' men.

He will honour title and this house.

I shall think upon it

and give reply upon fucking leisure.

Fall to the ludus.

And you from fucking sight.

Tarchon!

Erato! Take position

and see contest resumed towards title of champion.

I stroke cock to climax once more.

I fear seed shall fall short

of purpose.

Begin!

It would be a great loss...

to see Korris depart.

The risk well fucking known.

What of Achillia? Has senses stirred from darkness?

Word of such has not yet broken.

Dire tidings upon heel of unexpected triumph.

I pray she does not fall from life,

dragging you with her from tenuous perch.

Gratitude for imagined concern.

Refill cup with more satisfying vintage brought from Rome.

I have arranged invitation to Gabinius' villa.

Name appointed time and I shall command wagon to transport you.

The invitation is not for myself.

I am to sit with Gabinius?

Towards subject of union between beloved daughter

and Quintus Thermus, ally of Caesar.

Marriage?

Viridia has expressed desire towards such?

Women do not desire marriage. Marriage desires them.

Gabinius will not be swayed by my tongue

to such decision of import.

I have planted seed in fertile ground of loving wife,

where it takes strong root.

Use goodwill garnered by your champion's victory

to see effort to harvest.

Argh!

Tarchon - victor!

Celadus, Ephesius, take position.

Begin!

All that has assaulted ear since conclusion of our games

is the name Achillia.

And imploring demand towards assistance

in securing your response to mounting requests

for her inclusion in upcoming celebrations.

We stand blessed by effort and strategy.

Oh, your effort. And most definitely

your fucking strategy, Syrian.

Yet we are bound by reflection, mirroring shared blessings.

To see laurels heaped upon the House of Gabinius,

and all beneath its roof, fills heart to bursting.

Florid... yet appreciated.

How fares your champion?

Her injuries appeared of grievous nature,

even viewed from distance of pulvinus.

Many have made offerings and broken prayer

towards her return to the arena.

Your voice among them?

I have no tongue for it.

Mother and sister would often entreat the gods of my homeland

towards relief from our suffering.

Yet...

none ever materialised.

I hold no grace towards words of prayer myself.

Yet daughter holds such gifts in abundance.

She recalls image of my sister when we were young,

not in form or countenance,

but in beliefs,

deeply held.

You have broken words with her upon subject?

When she and her mother joined Caesar's wife at my villa.

- Cornelia. - Mm-hm.

A woman held together in human form

only by schemes and ambitions.

Now she conspires...

to see my only child bonded to Quintus Thermus

to advance manoeuvrings.

I must confess...

I have been urged to attempt to move you

towards favour of proposition.

Urged?

Commanded, by Caesar, through voice of Cornelia.

You believe Crassus moves Caesar

as he so moves wife?

I believe Julius fucking Caesar moves by no force

other than his own ravenous appetite.

You speak candidly towards those you owe allegiance.

Or I find myself ensnared in net

woven by hands other than your own.

I am no friend of Caesar, nor serpent the man claims mate.

I am beholden to Crassus alone,

owing to him my freedom and all I possess since.

A wise and measured response,

one I would offer if position reversed.

Yet place thought of Crassus aside.

If he stands not the source of desire

towards Viridia's marriage, what path would you counsel?

I would plea... against it.

Plea? So strong a condemnation?

I have only known your daughter for briefest moment,

yet... lasting impression has been made.

I would not see her used as a piece upon board of Caesar

and Cornelia's game.

Once again, we stand reflection.

I will not give consent to proposed union.

- A decision wisely made. - Now turn thoughts from such

and fix them upon own fucking house.

Mind seldom strays from task.

Opportunity such as your champion presents

rarely grace those of your station.

You must build upon it or see possibility evaporate

as swiftly as- as dew beneath withering sun.

One as you describe has recently presented itself.

In form and manner?

In such that would greatly expand holdings upon single...

stroke.

- And the cost of it? - In coin, none.

Yet it would be a loss keenly felt

nonetheless.

Men of position and power have but one thing in common -

the sting of yesterday's sacrifice

in service towards greater glory of tomorrow.

Seize fucking moment

and set loss to sea upon distant tide.

Where's Achillia?! Where's Achillia?!

- Where's Achillia?! - Soon, soon, soon.

When will Achillia grace the arena once more?

The Goddess of Death shall reclaim the sand

upon a day soon approaching!

And fuck all who dare stand before her! Ha!

- (crowd laughs, cheers] - The woman yet lives?

She does.

How fares your champion?

Resurrected?

Or yet in eternal repose?

Heap gratitude upon foreign gods

your bitch did not face the Brothers Ferox.

Do you value life so little to form guard of...

half-men?

Perhaps my... little sword

shall carve name into block of wood resting upon shoulders.

Satyrus.

Fall to purpose,

and see coin owed from merchant Tantalus collected.

- And if he cannot produce? - Add trophy to your belt.

Go.

I would break words with the Syrian absent distraction.

Scurry forth.

Apologies. Satyrus possesses bile of one fully formed,

concentrated into diminutive vessel.

A small annoyance, barely rising to notice.

Now, what fucking words do you hold

I have interest in breaking with you?

Your unusual offering in the arena has admittedly ignited

the baser elements of the city.

Yet it is foolish to hold that her fortunes shall continue

in light of injuries sustained.

And how does such matter weigh upon your fucking mind?

They do not. Yet I see

convergent path in what you have managed to achieve,

however brief in nature.

Speak plainly or part fucking way.

Plainly, then.

I offer alliance.

If your champion recovers from wounds inflicted,

we shall pair her against my lesser men,

to extend her life and reap further coin from those rabid

at thought of a woman defying odds towards fated end.

Hmm.

I would counter generous offer.

Unhinge jaw...

and swallow cock.

I offer hand only to find teeth snapping at flesh.

You piss on the House of Ashur at every turn

and now stand in wonder I do not take knee

and receive golden tribute?

Let us turn from rightfully aggrieved past

and seize necessity of present moment.

I am soon to fucking dwarf necessity.

You grow so bold after but single victory in a Primus,

with champion lying at the gates of the Underworld,

yet a breath from admittance?

Bolder than stunted imagination could dream.

My holdings double upon turn of circumstance.

And how do you call forth such miracle?

By one also much abused by your fucking tongue.

The man takes flight, his holdings falling

to deserving hands.

Opiter?

You do not possess coin to secure what is his,

short of Crassus himself shitting gold

into outstretched palm.

Oh, I possess all that is required of worth and value

beyond coin.

The House of Ashur shall soon stand monolith,

lesser men forever to dwell

in its fucking shadow.

There are but two remaining

within grasp of honoured mantle of champion.

Celadus...

Tarchon...

take position.

At last...

I will seize title from undeserving woman.

And I shall reclaim it

to present as gift when she rises again.

Begin!

Why do you fight for her?!

Argh!

Argh!

I fight for this fucking house.

Celadus - victor.

- The title of champion falls-- - Stay hand!

Tarchon shall stand as champion

until such day Achillia returns to form.

See Celadus elevated to position of doctore.

And all encompassed by declaration.

My time upon the sands draws to sudden end.

Embrace achievements of those you lend experience to,

as I have done for many years.

You have given all to the arena, old friend.

Does it stand possible to hold dream of anything

beyond blood and glory?

One whose worth transcends value of any victory

or cheering crowd.

You stand ready to fall from this house?

And eager to do so.

Uh, there is yet...

final thing I would ask of you, in...

advance of parting.

She does not wake.

She stands at the judgement of her gods

and shall return to the world of the living

if found of worth.

I would tip balance...

with offering and...

prayer.

You would entreat the gods you do not believe in?

They have seldom given me cause for such faith.

Yet perhaps effort combined

may move them towards compassion.

Then let us stand as one.

I... live?

Our journey has not yet ended.

The gods do not fuck you this time.

I still do not care for you.

Nor I you.

Sentius!

I would take meal before journey.

Sentius? Sentius!

Someone has a secret.

Secrets. Secrets.

Thought he could leave absent farewells.

Thought he could fuck...

the Syrian's man.

Presenting gift of villa and ludus,

to fuck our dominus!

Apologies.

I- I forgot myself.

- We will help you remember. - Help you.

Take it.

All of it!

In exchange for my life!

- Your life... - Your life...

...holds no value now.

I beg you.

Spare me!

Argh!

Argh!

The world looks so much larger,

does it not,

from down here?

Please, don't. Please, I beg you. Please.

Argh!