Original subtitles

Who claimed his fucking life?

A Scythian. She does not carry a name.

Celadus fell to a woman?

He would not have wished this-

you and I standing in constant opposition.

I would see aid given Achillia.

We must be secure in knowledge

that you are protected from those

who would see you toward disadvantage.

- Speak of Uncle Servius? - He looms, but one of many.

If Pompey's allowed to marry Viridia,

he will forever be aligned with Gabinius.

You intend to remove Gabinius from the Senate?

No. I intend to remove him from fucking life.

Have her bathed and sent to me.

Hilara, assist

towards urgent matter.

Did you call upon me to--

What is this fucking shit?!

Send word to Crassus

to discuss granting him my full support in the Senate!

I did not mean for this.

Viridia will know

the man you truly are.

No.

She will!

How does she fare, your daughter?

As one who has seen heart torn from chest.

I cannot believe he's gone.

His death severest blow to the Republic.

Such a tragic loss.

Know that I am here

for both of you.

Sentiment embraced

as intended.

Ah,

Caesar and Cornelia appear,

dispelling darkness with welcomed light.

Cossutia.

I have wailed as if cherished husband

were cut from my own flesh.

I'm glad you yet stand whole.

Would that Pompey did not stand so.

An enemy of the people.

To think we greeted him with arms spread with affection

and adulation.

He must be seen to account.

Preferably at the end of a fucking sword.

He stands a consul of Rome-

beyond reach of laws that govern the rest of us.

You would see him go unpunished for what he has done?

No. I only mean there is--

Calm waters.

Crassus looks to introduce resolution within the Senate

to strip Pompey of title.

And protection it affords.

What of his army camped outside the gates of Rome?

Fled from responsibility

as all of questionable nature do when faced with blood upon hand.

The situation is well attended.

He has been elevated to legatus

and charged to see Pompey towards a violent end.

Apologies.

I will pay respects.

Caesar.

You honor this house.

Allow me to introduce Servius, brother to beloved husband.

Deepest sorrow towards loss

of most precious brother.

Gratitude.

Yet I must inquire, why does your slave stand among us?

Ashur is a free man

and respected lanista within Capua.

Ah, yes,

the Syrian good Proculus has spoken of.

I have thought towards munera to honor fallen kin

and reintroduce myself to a city I have been too long from.

Funeral games?

I shall provide my men gratis...

- in remembrance of your father. - Oh, most excellent.

- To be met in kind? - Without hesitation.

We do not stand empty of purse.

Let us say a clutch of your men each with respective champions

to meet in the Primus?

Your brother's memory will be etched in blood upon the sands.

As I would see it held this day

by...

all those of appropriate breeding.

We are but guests of the House of Servius.

Uh, see the man to egress...

at rear of villa, removed from public eye.

Hold.

I would have a moment.

Apologies.

My uncle can be...

abrupt.

It was foolish of me to come.

It lifts heart that you have.

I wish to express gratitude.

Towards?

You tried to warn me

of Pompey.

If only I'd listened.

The fault lies with the man who took your father's life.

And no other.

He did not deserve such a fate.

He did not.

I must go before I am missed.

Know that you are in my thoughts.

Use spear to force distance.

Do not let fucking Scythian draw close.

Again.

The brother of Gabinius has mind towards funeral games.

Doctore,

a clutch of men stand requested.

Choose as you wish.

Dominus, what of the Scythian?

Achillia shall face her in Primus.

Glory

to the House of fucking Ashur.

You avoid me.

I but attend my duties as vilica.

Do such encompass the murder of a fucking senator?

I did not know Pompey would lash out in fatal manner.

A man's actions are far from predictable

when under sway of opium.

That is why your fucking dominus so desired it upon the moment.

Is it not?

And why you plied me with kindest words

to spirit such from Domina's chambers.

I had no knowledge of what Dominus planned.

Nor would I have involved you if I thought anyone

would come to harm in the act of it.

Intent has no bearing upon deadly result.

If it were discovered that I--

All with a hand in it would suffer.

The affairs of this fucking house

and everyone within it fall from concern.

Domina makes ready to depart for Rome

and would see me remain at her side.

You leave this house?

Never to return.

Do not worry, brother.

You shall rise again

when she falls to the Scythian.

Doctore.

The Scythian does not favor her right as you do.

It is the left that holds greater threat.

Such escaped my notice.

Perhaps...

more observant eye would yield less disappointing result.

Perhaps.

I thought you did not care for style of dimachaerus.

I do not.

Yet my father did,

as does the beast you are to face in the arena.

You remain from fucking back.

We move in hopeful direction.

Good. Yet there are two ends of a fucking spear.

Seek to use them both.

You again pursue opportunity to seize mantle of champion?

I give no shit towards it.

I but crave the Scythians struck from this fucking world,

if not by my hand, then yours.

Do not make such brief work of the Syrian's champion.

I would see her suffer

and, by association, her dominus.

And I would see her set upon the man's fucking doctore,

the scales of blood towards balance!

The crowd impossibly cheers for you once more, little man.

Absent fallen brothers.

The gods bless the name Satyrus.

Yet I fear they shall not grace you

with miraculous victory a second time

against fully formed opponent.

I am to fight again in the arena?

You are,

yet not alone.

You would pair me with a fucking woman?!

I would but have you live a while longer

and see coffers filled with coin...

in advance of your passing.

Come.

I have been too long from an opponent of worth

and would test myself against one offering challenge.

Let us see what I recall from days of war

and adventure.

Villa feels so empty.

Absent his presence filling it.

I stand in most painful regret...

that I ever supported union between you and fucking Pompey.

Oh,

you but moved to procure future

protected from those who would wish us harm.

Apologies.

I pray I do not intrude upon introspective musings.

We but speak of this house.

And the living within it, in pale shadow of loving father

and considerate husband.

It does stand a fine villa to raise a child in,

if fair Viridia may yet erroneously be called such.

It is improper

for men to bathe with women, Servius.

'Proper' is what paterfamilias deems.

Do I not stand such now in relation?

You stand so.

We shall leave you to restorative ablutions.

I would see you linger.

Presence of beloved niece balms wound of brother's loss,

as does that of stoic wife.

Ahhh.

Is it not greatest relief to shed black sackcloth

and feel cleansing waters against flesh?

If I were overseer of tradition,

I would see eight days of mourning halved,

if not quartered.

They could churn into years,

and yet not allow time enough to grieve the passing of my father.

I would not see you so removed from life...

nor pleasures such offers.

What make you of

Caesar

and Cornelia?

They seem...

taken by you.

- You believe so? - Mm.

They are of discerning nature.

And at status beyond measure, gracing pulvinus for the games.

They will come? You are sure of it?

They dwell within Ashur's villa during stay.

- You shall see them among us. - Oh, yes.

The Syrian.

How do they manage sharing domicile

with such a lowly beast?

Ashur is no beast.

He's a man of careful thought and gentle word,

even when none are offered him.

You speak of the Syrian with a troubling passion.

She but finds

the good in all,

even those... undeserving.

I but speak the truth

for those who do not fear it.

We should have proper adornment for games of the munera-

something of status, yet...

muted in ostentation.

We will go to the market when day breaks.

I cannot go to market upon the morrow, nor hold interest

in entertaining such frivolity.

You need not accompany us. We go often, mother and I.

Absent paterfamilias or suitable male escort?

We do not require leash.

Viridia.

It appears my brother has been regrettably lax

in regards towards matters of family.

A mistake

we shall see towards correction.

I thought all lost when the old fool promised

his simpleton child to Pompey.

A moment of worry,

yet the gods favor Caesar and deserving wife.

Has there ever stood such a man?

He is with empty shell, absent the woman before him.

She would not be removed from your side.

Nor I from yours.

Yet I would see you safe behind the gates of Rome

far from threat of Pompey and men yet loyal to him.

What of Crassus?

I shall deliver message upon proper time and place

in advance of my own departure.

The Syrian has proven unexpectedly useful,

has he not?

Gratitude.

I but live

to serve.

You but elevate the name of Caesar and of your patron.

Come! Partake in wine and joyous celebration.

I prefer promises kept in lieu of libations.

Promises?

Agreement was made.

If union between Viridia and Pompey was halted,

the reward would be the rebuilding of the old arena

destroyed by Spartacus, and I...

to be given control of it.

Was it not Pompey who struck Gabinius down?

By machination devised by my hand alone.

Gabinius...

would yet be of this world

if not for Ashur.

Of that there can be no question.

And upon my life, you shall be seen to deserved reward.

Night becomes glorious day.

Leave us.

We shall revisit subject upon heel of legacy of Gabinius

honored upon the sands.

Come.

I recall a time not so far distance when you made effort

to claim my life with the chains that yet bound you.

Would you have not attempted the same

had our place stood reversed?

No. I would have plotted and schemed,

striking from the shadows,

as those of craven heart would.

If I had followed example,

perhaps I would not yet stand a slave.

Yet here we both find ourselves,

bound by the chains of our decisions.

This is to be mine?

Alone?

As Gannicus before you and Spartacus in his wake,

each claiming this as their own

towards title

of champion.

A title bestowed upon me months past.

Why does such a gift present itself in the present?

As reward for loyal service.

Yet, if you find the aroma of piss and shit

of the barracks more pleasing--

I defeated Ammonius,

yet such bounty was not offered.

Come to direct fucking point.

I plied Pompey with opium,

as commanded.

Was it plot and scheme that he then cut the old man down?

No.

It was not my intent to see Gabinius dead.

The man who took his life -

he will suffer for it?

Of that I have no doubt.

Rest

and turn darkness of thought towards the fucking Scythian.

She presents challenge unlike you have ever faced.

And...

I do not wish to see such glorious accommodation

stand empty again.

Begin!

Anticipate feint.

She will attempt to draw you in to imagined weakness,

then strike.

Do we train or do you seek my fall in advance of arena?

You hold the Scythian will show you mercy?

You do not stand the fucking Scythian!

If I were,

you would be embracing my father in the fucking afterlife.

Pause.

Take water and regain yourself.

- I do not need-- - Fall to command.

She does not heed instruction.

I wonder who she fucking reminds me of.

How am I to aid her if she will not listen?

How did your father set unruly son upon path?

By harsh words alone?

Or tempered with those of more supportive nature?

So you would have me ply her

with gentle caress and soft kiss?

A kindness reserved for those held to fucking heart.

I but suggest temperance

if such is to be found within you.

Have you broken words with Dominus

towards reunion with the Elata?

I have not.

Dominus is consumed by more weighted matters,

yet I will, at first opportunity, broach subject.

Are we to gossip as old women

or return to fucking purpose?

You possess fucking shield,

however small.

Think upon using it.

Good. Yet do not consider but for defense.

Think of it also as unexpected weapon.

Esteemed burden at last removes itself?

Yet damage caused not so easily swept to remembrance.

Then let us soothe wounds with blood and glory.

The men stand ready?

They thirst for the fucking day.

As all men of worth do.

There is one among them that I would beg towards consideration.

- Break name. - Tarchon.

Ah.

That arrogant little shit presses for return to the arena?

He does not petition for it. Instead, he makes effort

towards aiding Achillia to face the Scythian.

Was such the boy's choice?

With gentle fucking guidance from more experienced hand.

I did not think you could cease pissing in all direction

long enough to lend assistance to another,

especially one he so despises.

He is learning to look beyond himself, slowly,

yet he makes attempt.

And you would see him rewarded for effort?

The whore Elata, he holds her in some affection.

It would lift his spirits to see her again.

The loss of his father still weights the boy.

It is a heavy thing-

loss of a man

greatly admired.

You appear not your usual aggravating self of late.

Sharing words regarding cause--

I would instead turn to more buoyant reckoning.

Crassus at last removes arm from ass

to see the old arena risen from the ashes.

Boon to all of Capua.

More so to this fucking house.

For the man before you is to be given charge of it.

A great honor, well deserved.

Once arena's completed, attention shall be taken

with seeing it's filled to the thunderous cheers of the crowd.

I will have little time for the needs of this ludus,

nor those toiling beneath its roof.

- You would see it sold? - No.

I would see it freely given

into the worthiest of hands.

I, uh...

I have never imagined

such was possible.

Nor I.

Yet...

we soar beyond the tether of imagination,

severing it in service of what we may become.

See the whore into the boy's arms.

And may he find peace in her embrace

as we find in promise

of future laurels.

I've dreamt of you

standing once more upon the sands of the arena,

victorious in all regards.

Then I would see desires filled.

Yet, towards arena,

such must stand delayed.

I hear of funeral games for Gabinius.

Are you not among those chosen to fight?

I have fallen from consideration of Dominus.

Why?

A thing of no matter.

Until I regain such, I instruct the champion

towards contest against fucking Scythian.

Champion?

A title you deserve.

If you do not stand such, how shall you earn your freedom,

or my own, as you have so often promised?

Let's not fall towards future worries

when present...

holds greater need.

It feels a lifetime since I have taken to your arms.

And now we my embrace absent concern.

Concern?

Towards?

That bloated Roman that handled me so rudely...

Mm.

...and disapproving eye of your father.

He but worried of distraction

and fateful end such could lead to upon the sands.

You are well out of his shadow.

He was stubborn and overbearing, as you yourself often noted.

I was in error...

toward many things.

Guard.

Where are you going?

To honor my father,

in word and deed.

Treat belongings with fucking care

if the ability stands so possessed.

I shall see ungentle hands shattered

for slightest offense to treasured belongings.

Gratitude.

I find it deepest relief to fall from such consideration.

This house stands as your own,

should need or desire ever return you to Capua.

Let us not sully joyous occasion with such dour thought.

May I impart men to further swell numbers

towards precious cargo?

I would not entrust such to the rudely trained.

We are yet to broach subject of remuneration for your slave.

A gift, in deference to Caesar and deserving wife.

Well received.

For what it's worth.

Would that you were by my side as well.

It would lend greatest comfort with Pompey running wild

through the countryside.

The greater number of my men shall see you safely to Rome.

Promise you will join at earliest convenience

with news Pompey has been dispatched by your hand.

My word stands bond.

Go,

and await glorious return.

Guards,

see her safely to Rome.

Yes, sir.

Messia. Come.

Let us fall to the arena, Syrian, and give final embrace

to the man you helped see from this world.

Me! Me!

Give me some!

Viridia! Do join us miscreants in lesser row.

- Much appreciated. - Yet respectfully declined.

I would have her close to doting uncle.

She does not favor proximity to the blood--

And yet

I would have her at my side.

And there you shall find me.

Ah! Exalted guest graces us with divine presence.

You flatter,

yet not enough.

Ravishing wife does not accompany?

She regrettably returns to Rome.

We stand blessed you yet remain.

I but linger to pay honor to noble senator -

his absence

a mortal wound.

The crowd swells towards tribute.

The gods themselves shall bear witness to how he was loved.

Yes.

It shall stand spectacle for the ages.

The house of Ashur shall ensure it a day to be remembered.

Oh.

Apologies.

With all the arrangements, I did not have moment to send message.

I have secured more suitable offerings

from Calpurnius of Pompeii.

Am I not to hold position in the games?

It does not seem reasonable to exclude him on cusp of--

He shall retain Primus against Proculus' savage

upon necessity of the crowd.

They demand Achillia's return to the sands.

Brief as it may be.

A privilege

to be so considered.

Oh,

apologies once more.

Pulvinus stands reserved for Romans.

Father often invited Ashur to sit among us.

Well, my brother is no longer among us.

And I but speak the truth

for those who do not fear it.

Unless Caesar holds objection?

Who is Caesar to stand in the way of unflinching veracity?

- Uncle-- - Let us not

fall to disagreement.

I shall hold vigil among the people your father so

dearly loved.

The air appears fresher, does it not?

I did not breathe through my nose

the entire time he stood there.

We are not to fucking fight?!

Editor of the games deems it so.

Would that the cunt joined fallen brother?

There is but one contest holding matter.

Let us place all else aside...

and turn thought towards it.

All that I have sacrificed only to return to where I began.

Once new arena is completed,

you shall be the one who decides who occupies pulvinus

and who shall be excluded.

I long for the fucking day.

Citizens of Capua!

Many among you may not recognize countenance

of long lost son,

returned to loving embrace upon darkest hour.

I stand here before you, as I did in my youth.

Servius Gabinius,

brother to storied senator

beloved by all.

Too soon taken from this world by the villain Pompey!

Dearest brother

is survived by stately wife

and treasured daughter

who now fall to me towards security...

and affection.

Capua has suffered injury of most grievous nature.

Yet we shall not be quelled by violent assault,

nor whither

upon facing uncertain challenge of tomorrow.

Yet, this day,

let us honor

the memory of my brother,

your ally,

your champion

with blood and sacrifice!

Begin!

Begin!

Begin!

Ooh.

Begin!

Follow lead

and attempt not to die.

Advice I had thought to impart to you.

From the House of Proculus,

I give you Galatea,

murmillo,

and Satyrus, thraex!

Yes!

How many lives does the little man possess?

I pray but one remaining.

Formidable opponent offered by the House of Calpurnius,

enter Taurus!

Hammer of the gods!

Fuck!

Begin!

Ah.

Regain your fucking feet!

Shield!

Reports have reached ear that Pompey marshals his men

towards the shores of Brundisium in the south.

Brundisium?

What does he seek in such a horrid place?

If I stood the man, I would seek to cross waters to Greece

in efforts towards raising greater numbers to swell ranks

of depleted army.

Spectre of civil war is upon us.

A fate my father devoted life to avoid.

I will see the villain to grass in advance of further offense.

With aid of Crassus and the Senate, of course.

Gratitude.

I long to see the man responsible

for my husband's death fall to a similar fate.

Would that I held the knife, claiming his life.

Yes!

Taurus stood legend.

May he be

remembered as such.

I am going to fuck you this night, little man.

And I shall let you!

- We fall from seat? - Remain.

I shall seek word with our champion in advance

of fucking Primus.

Disappointed?

You fucking oaf!

Eternally.

I stand a fucking god!

And a woman at my side...

You pray?

To Apedemak,

God of War.

Will he listen?

In favor of me, no.

Yet I pray to him

in the name of your father.

Well, your god would be wise to listen.

Or I shall have fucking words with him in the afterlife.

Achillia.

You stand ready?

She does, Dominus.

Those who sit upon ass

and judge yet believe this house a fucking jest.

They hold that we among it are lesser,

that they stand above us,

and forever shall.

Show them

who we truly are,

and fuck that cunt

into the fucking ground!

The moment is upon us.

Primus at last arrives to memorialize revered brother,

noble husband, beloved father

and senator of this grand republic!

Yes!

How gauge you Achillia towards victory?

We shall see.

From the House

of the Syrian,

I give you Achillia,

Goddess of Death!

Achillia! My goddess!

Achillia!

Achillia!

And who shall such fearsome warrior face?

From the House of Proculus,

enter the Scythian!

Begin!

This is the woman everyone so passionately speaks of?

How disappointing.

She proves her worth

as all women of wit and determination.

Ah!

Get back!

Get off!

Regain footing!

Use fucking shield towards attack, Achillia!

Yes!

Fucking shield.

Yes!

Press advantage! Press fucking advantage!

Yes.

For Celadus.

Fuck the gods!

- Yes! - Achillia!

Yes!

Achillia! Achillia!

Yes!

Achillia! Achillia!

Your father stands honored

by both of you.

Ah!

Perhaps the House of Proculus is not to be so feared after all.

You will not speak to a man in such fashion.

A thing of little note.

Violent end often comes to those least suspecting of it.

Gratitude to all

for sharing in our grief.

I stand at your service towards all affairs of Capua,

public and private.

We must all break meal

upon success of campaign against Pompey.

Our house stands forever prepared to receive you.

Cossutia, Viridia,

fall to heel.

You have done the fucking impossible.

Champion.

You appear astonished I yet live.

I had hoped, with all my being,

that you would claim the Scythian's life,

yet did not expect it.

Nor I.

Gratitude

for assisting in such fucking miracle.

I could not have another strike you down

before I laid claim to your title.

I had thought disagreement lay behind us.

Would you not pursue mantle of champion...

were I the one to hold it?

I fucking would.

Hmm.

I never dreamt nor desired to find myself in such position.

And yet here you stand.

Reflecting words broken by our dominus.

Yet I would not have it so.

I would gain my freedom in the arena,

if so blessed,

or beyond its walls, if fate so deems.

We at last find common ground.

What would you do if such a day comes?

Return to my homeland...

and seek the man who condemned me to the Romans.

And take his life?

Your wrapping is overly tight.

Doctore saw to it in absence of medicus.

I fear he's more suited to the taking of life

than the healing of it.

My father taught me how to dress his wounds

when I was yet a child.

He is deeply missed.

Beyond the telling of it.

Apologies.

See horses readied.

I would upon road within briefest moment.

Would it not be wise to delay egress

until the brunt of storm has passed?

A thing I do not need informing of.

Let us take wine and food and break further word towards

resurrection of old arena.

I have thoughts towards artisans from Neapolis and Pompeii

of much higher quality than found within Capua,

although at a cost considerably greater--

Such arrangements prove unnecessary.

Crassus has men in mind towards labors?

No.

He has instructed me to relay whim has shifted

towards construction of villas to be sold or rented

in place of costly arena.

Villas?

Was bargain not struck?

Did fucking Ashur not see union

between Viridia and Pompey halted?

And we all stand everlastingly grateful.

Grateful?

You stand

fucking grateful?

Do not adopt such tone with me.

Gabinius is gone from this world.

His daughter now beneath thumb of fucking uncle,

and you offer platitudes in place of promised reward,

you fucking cunt!

Dominus!

Leave us.

Go.

Oh, did I not warn you, Syrian?

I stand

fucking god upon mount,

eclipsing the villain Pompey

and soon even that of mighty Crassus himself.

And you

shall hail me as such!

Have you lost fucking mind?!

The horses are set to depart.

Kill him! Go!

Ah!

Ah!

Hail, Caesar!