All language subtitles for Rome_S01E04_480p_HDTV_SITEMOVIE

The day was hot,

but the night turns chilly fast,
it seems, for the time of year.

Day after tomorrow,
we shall be in Capua

and you will sleep
in a good warm house.

Though goatskin
has its virtues.

Here we are, refugees
in our own land.

We are not refugees.
We are maneuvering.

As you say,
here we are maneuvering,

while the tyrant sits
in Rome.

Yes, in my tent,

I sleep sound
and deep as a child.

- Though perhaps not tonight.
- I'm sorry it bothers you.

He'll be finished
soon enough.

Quintus has a knack
for this kind of thing.

Well, I hope so.

Your son Quintus,
I did not know he was with us.

Arrived this morning
from Brindisi.

Ah, that's better.

Screaming makes poor sauce,
I find.

Quintus has
his faults,

but he is loyal
and fearless.

A father cannot ask more.

I've never heard
nor thought otherwise.

The dog confessed at last.

- Torn up good and red.
- Blood on your face.

Wash yourself.

Where is Durio?
Where is the gold?

He killed Durio
as you suspected.

And they took the gold north
on the Via Flaminia,

ran slap into
Caesar's scouts.

Pair of Romans,
20 head of Ubian.

Too many for our boys.

They ran, the filth
that they are.

Left the gold
to the scouts.

Can't be so. I've heard
from Rome this last hour.

Caesar has not
got the gold.

My man Volpe always
gets the truth, Father.

If Caesar does not have it, then his scouts
must have kept it for themselves.

- Go find these scouts.
- I will.

Now!

You see,
the tide turns already.

Without the gold,
Caesar will find Rome

a little harder
to subdue.

Without the gold, we're not
very well placed, either.

Without gold,
he will have to use violence.

Once he starts
spilling blood,

the people will turn
on him with a vengeance.

Without the people,
he has nothing.

"Martial law
is in effect

for the safety
of all citizens.

Groups of more than
three men

shall not congregate
in public spaces.

A curfew is in effect.

Any person found
on the street after dark

will be subject
to summary judgment.

Long live
General Gaius Julius Caesar,

savior of our Republic."

Order, halt!

Jupiter Optimus Maximus.

Jupiter Optimus Maximus.

Jupiter Optimus Maximus.

Jupiter Optimus Maximus.

Jupiter Optimus Maximus.

Jupiter Optimus Maximus.
Jupiter Optimus Maximus.

Name yourself, citizen.

Gaius of the Julii,

called Caesar.

Speak then.

I humbly ask that
auguries be taken

that Rome might know

that the gods favor
my actions.

You've entered the city
under arms.

I must warn you
that seldom augurs well.

The gods know my
intentions are peaceful.

The people must
know it also.

So be it.

Auguries will be taken

on the first clean morning.

Let the birds fly
where they may.

How be, paisan?

Miserable.

Slave of a rebel.

A successful rebel
at least.

The jury's still out.
And you, my child?

For true misery,
try bondage

to a bloody-minded woman.

This dinner tonight,
Caesar asks no shellfish.

Here is a guest list.

I hope your lady
is aware

of the honor done to her.

She's very aware.

Caesar's hostess
is first woman

- of the city, in effect.
- Excepting Caesar's wife.

Calpurnia. Caesar requires
that she's still and handsome

and dignified and...
no more.

She is a species
of statue.

A very fancy list
of people.

Every aristo and optimate
left in the city.

He's not planning
on killing them, is he?

I shouldn't think so.

My mistress doesn't
like surprises.

Servilia...
why invite her?

Can there still be
something between them?

A rattled old sandal like her?
Surely not.

Some juice in her yet.

I'll not let that woman
get between me and Caesar.

Why is Servilia invited
to the party?

Hmm?

Servilia of the Junii,
why is she invited?

On account of her son,
obviously.

For this, you wake me?

Of course. He needs to keep Brutus
as his symbolic friend.

That's all.

It would look ill with the people
if Brutus were his enemy.

There's no love there.
It's just politics.

Dear gods, woman,
would you let me sleep?

The goat's testicles,
domina.

Not for me, fool,
for Octavian.

Fetch Demeter.

Eat them while
they're warm, my dear.

- It puts oak in your penis.
- I'd rather not.

Nonsense, you must.

You've been developing
a distinctly feminine anima,

and I do not like it.

I am only a boy.
It is entirely natural...

When my mother's father was your
age, there was not a slave girl safe.

The men of the Julii are masculine men.
Now do as I say

- and eat them.
- I will not.

You'll not leave
this room until you do.

Demeter, the banquet
this evening,

no shellfish. And be sure
the lampreys are not overcooked.

Boil them long enough
to kill them, no more.

I'm waiting.

That's my brave boy.

- Brother.
- Hmm?

Did Mother have
Glabius killed?

Of course not.

You're sure?

Well, I cannot prove a negative,
but I'm sure as can be.

You swear on
Jupiter's stone?

I swear on
Jupiter's stone.

If she did,

if she did kill him,

by the furies, I'll open her throat
with my teeth.

In Narbo, I can buy
10 feasts for this.

Narbo isn't full of
corpses and soldiers,

and decent people too scared
to come out of their houses.

No time to throw a do
if you don't mind me saying.

I cannot start a business
without a feast, can I?

Today is auspicious,
and it's perfectly safe.

I remember the last time when Sulla
had soldiers in the city.

- Blood, you could paint houses with it.
- Caesar's not Sulla.

He's declared martial law, not
to spill blood, but to keep the peace.

We'll see, won't we?

I invoke Ceres and Bacchus,
you'll not be dissatisfied.

You find me a pig, and I'll
make you a feast,

in Hades, if need be.

- And charge according.
- Musa, the oilman's wife,

served whelks instead of oysters
at her womb funeral,

and nobody would
let her forget it.

Laughed at in the street.

Divine Janus, we offer
this feast to you.

I humbly beg that you
will be gracious

and merciful
to me and my house,

and you will smile upon
this new business venture

I begin today.

Lucius Vorenus, his honor
Mark Antony orders your presence.

- Now?
- Of course not. Next year.

Vorenus, my dear comrade.

Barely recognize you without
a bloody sword in your hand.

Off with you now, Cato.

Amusing, eh?

- Cato.
- As you say.

Of course you don't all
find it amusing.

So...

how is civilian life
treating you, huh?

Well enough so far,
sir.

You know, of course,

I could have you nailed
to a cross for desertion.

I am no deserter.
My time was served.

I abided my sacrament.

It is you that...

It is I that what?

Once over the Rubicon,
Romans are citizens, not soldiers.

I could not legally do
other than I did.

Foolish.

Like a priest
blinded by a cowl.

Since the founding
of Rome...

Oh, please, spare me
the founding, Vorenus.

Things change.

Life is water, not stone.

Then I suppose
I will drown.

Do you not see that
your precious Republic

has long since died?

Do you not see that Caesar
is trying to save Rome from ruin?

I do not see that.

Enough.

And what wretched trade

is it you intend
to follow then?

Imported goods from Gaul.
Slaves, truffles, wine.

- That sort of thing.
- A grocer?

An honest fighting man
like yourself

counting cartons,

scribbling accounts?

- You will swift go mad.
- That may be.

I need you, Vorenus.

Caesar needs you.

There is no better man in the legion,
none more respected by the men.

- We have hard fighting ahead.
- Hard fighting against Romans.

Blood is blood.

Would you really have
the 13th

fasten their crest
without you?

You come back
to the legion,

you shall be inducted
into the Evocati as a prefect.

Of the first grade,
with a signing bonus.

Say, uh...

10,000 sesterce.

I chose this path.
I will follow where it leads.

You grieve me, Vorenus.

You grieve me deeply.

Go on.
Off with you.

Good day, citizen.

Vorenus...

next time I see you,
I may not be so kind.

What does it say?

Shh.

It's not certain,

but I'd say your
secret's safe.

Not certain?

The signs are mixed.

What good is that?

Tell me what
it is you're hiding

and I can be
more precise.

There's a child involved.

A male child?

The baby.

Never mind.
Best leave it.

As you please.

If it's any help,

it does say your husband
is going to be rich.

Rich as Croesus.

Well, that's something,
isn't it?

Thank you.

Good. Done.

Water.

What did I look
like eight years ago?

Just the same.

- Eight years.
- Eight years...

of leathery
Gallic trollops.

When did he last see
a real lady, hmm?

And such
a beautiful one?

- Flowers.
- In bloom?

50,000 to each of
the magistrate's clerks.

So much?

I wish to buy their
allegiance outright, not lease it.

Have them sign
for the money.

And how much for
the sub-praetors?

Nil.

When they hear how much
the clerks got, they'll come begging.

And leave us penniless without
means to run the city.

We must kill some rich men
and take their money very soon,

else the well
will run dry

very soon.

I plan on killing no one
unless absolutely necessary.

A fine novel strategy,

an element of surprise
no doubt.

Later you may nag me.

I believe this is
appropriate.

Exactly right, my dear.

Regal, but not
excessively so.

Fine start to a business
this'll be if nobody comes.

Don't worry.
They will come.

Maybe I should have
waited as you said.

They will come.

And mind now,
when they do come,

try to smile occasionally.

And don't bark at them.

Who's this?

Erastes Fulmen. Remember?
Our guest of honor.

Building trades,
fire insurance, olives.

Lucius Vorenus.

Niobe.

Thank you for your coming, honest
neighbor.

I know it can't be easy
on such a day.

What's a few
soldiers, eh?

Wife, Phyllis.

Please.

- Sit down and take a cup of wine.
- I will.

Thirsty road, eh?

Sister.

All right?

All's right.
Don't worry.

- Thank you.
- This can't be little Lyde.

- Surely not. Long time, eh?
- Salve, Lucius.

- This is my husband, Evander Pulchio.
- Evander, welcome.

- Honored, Lucius Vorenus.
- Thank you for the pig.

With all the shops shut,
we would have whistled for meat.

Happy to be of service.

- Thank you so much for inviting me.
- My pleasure.

My pleasure, Servilia.

I insisted you come.

Whatever misfortune
befalls you,

we're still friends, neh?

She has a good cosmetics slave,
I'll grant you.

But a lover for Caesar?
Absurd.

Make way for the pro-consul
Gaius Julius Caesar,

Son of Venus,

Imperator of
the Gallic Legions.

Stand aside and open up.

Please, you mock me. It's
only your Uncle Gaius. Lift your heads.

All of you,
lift your heads.

My dear niece.

Revered uncle,

welcome, welcome home.

Servilia of the Junii,
a pleasant honor it is.

Delightful.

Your pleasure is mine.

I am very sorry your son
is not here with you.

I'm sorry also.

I hope you will forgive
his absence.

He is ever your friend.

I understand completely.

Please send Brutus
my best regards

and assure him he will
never have reason

to regret our friendship.

Nor will any of you,

regardless of where
your allegiances

may have lain
in the past.

- Any weapons?
- None, sir.

- Where you coming from?
- Come from Aternum, dominus.

- In what trade?
- Corpse collectors, bone grinders.

Dead business in general.

You've come
to right place then.

What people are they?

Scythians, chief.
They don't speak our language.

On your way then.

Please let me in!

You!

Tell your brutes to stay away from decent
women.

I'll do that.

Fine bit of plunder and rapine you
made off them bloody Gauls,

- I bet.
- I'll not complain.

Handy to have cash
in these uncertain times.

A man can't flee with
his house and fields

if he's chosen
the wrong side.

True.

Who do you reckon will
come out on top?

It's hard to say.

You'll be hoping it'll be
your man though, eh?

If you mean Caesar,
he's not my man anymore.

So your spoils,

you'll be lending
the proceeds, I expect.

I won't.

I am buying back this
insula so I'll not have spare cash.

I plan to take over the trading
space for an import business.

- Slaves mostly.
- Slaves?

Well, listen,

I have friends,

bona friends.

If you want any help,
you come to me, eh?

More wine here, sweetie.

There are even
those unwise men

who say that a white bird
in the southern quadrant

is neither indicant
nor negation.

Such are the barbarous innovations of our
day.

Barbarous.

We might as well
be Syrian.

- Point to pommel, I agree.
- Syrians, indeed.

Scythians even.

As Chief Augur,
I'm gratified to hear you say so.

It was heard
you are a man

- of modish opinion.
- Oh, that's pure scandal.

I believe that religion
is the province of our worthy priests.

Mere soldiers like myself
best not interfere.

That's very gratifying.

Octavian, don't sit there
like a prole.

- Say something witty.
- I have nothing such to say.

You know I cannot
talk small, Mother.

You then.

Some poetry, neh?

She can rattle off pages
of the stuff.

"Easy it is to go
down into Hell.

The gates of death
are ever open.

To climb back out again,
that's the difficulty."

It's a touch dark,
my love, but never mind.

She lost her husband,
you know.

Best get your sister gone.

I told you it was a mistake
to let her come.

I had to let her come.

It would look odd
if she wasn't here.

Speak to Evander,
will you?

Butcher man, time
to take your wife home.

She doesn't want to go.

Best make her
go then, eh?

- Time to go.
- Not yet.

- I like it here.
- Time to go.

- Let me go, my love.
- Lyde, please.

Let me go

or I'll tell our brave soldier
such a good tale.

Kill us all?
Is that what you want?

I love you.
Why don't you love me?

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

- Lyde, please.
- I'm your wife.

We had an agreement!
You vowed to Persephone.

You vowed you would
hold your peace!

- Have I not held my peace?
- If my husband...

Your husband is
a blind fool!

Did you hear me?
He's a blind fool!

Get off me!
Get off me!

Get off me!

Wife?

Caecilia.

Tell me,

how is Caecilia?

- She's healthy, I thank you.
- Good.

I recall I forgot
her last birthday.

- Her birthday?
- Remiss of me, I know.

Perhaps she would forgive my rudeness
were I to send her a gift.

Really,
that's not necessary.

Hard to find the right
gift for a woman, neh?

What one loves,
another scorns.

Perhaps she would accept
some money.

There's an idea.

100,000 sesterce, say?

Oh, that's very kind
of you.

I'm afraid my wife is
a woman of expensive tastes.

The best women
often are.

150,000.

She would dress her slaves
in silk if I would let her.

She eats oysters
for breakfast daily.

She should be
most careful.

People often choke
on oysters.

200,000.

That is a very generous,
and I may say,

appropriate gift.

She would be under great
obligation to you.

To think well of me would
be her only obligation.

She's always
thought well of you.

It is not unethical
she continue to do so.

We understand
each other.

Make a note of it.

200 to the Chief Augur.

Thinks he's Midas,
the loon.

- Go past the cloth works.
- Thank you very much.

We'll go to the priests of
Janus tomorrow first thing,

and have the day absolved.
It's costly, but...

An omen is an omen. And
this is as bad as they come.

No point throwing
money at it.

Your sister and her husband
can never come here again.

As you say.

Must not bend.

Salve, pleb.

Centurion Lucius Vorenus?

Who asks?

His honor Quintus Pompey.

You best have good reason
for this insult.

Tell me where the gold is,
and quick about it, dog.

What gold?
Speak sense.

- Sense enough?
- Not near.

- I ask again, what gold?
- Stubborn is he?

This trollop we can
assume is your wife.

Hold her.

I cannot speak
what I do not know.

I do not know of any gold.

You know very well
I seek the treasury gold

you took
from my father's men.

I took no gold from any man.
You are misinformed.

Misinformed.

You are not chief
of scouts 13th legion?

I was.

And last week, did you
not stop a grain wagon

- on the Via Flaminia?
- We did.

Driven by soldiers disguised.

We chased the soldiers
and left the wagon.

You never thought
to look inside?

There was no time.
We had orders.

Your wagon is still there
for all I know.

Lies. Cut her.

Come on, give it to me!

Boys, a clamor for my
beloved friend Lucius.

Why so glum and gloomy?

Who's this then?

His noble honor Quintus Pompey,
commander of Tyrrhenian fleet.

Neptune's scourge.

Oh, Neptune's scourge.

Looking for a wagon
of treasury gold.

Treasury gold?

How exciting!

Do not test
my patience, peasant.

You be off now,
short ass.

Take these scum
with you.

The way I see it,

we put little Quintus here
in the Tiber right off,

get us a wagon, sneak out
to where the gold's buried.

Dig it up, ride like
Zephyrus for the coast,

- and get the first tide for Spain.
- I'm trying to think.

- What was wrong with that?
- What's wrong?

Even if it were not
a monstrous sin

to steal sacred property
of Rome...

I wasn't to know, was I?

...you then ride through
the streets on a litter,

shouting and singing
and broadcasting your theft

to all and sundry.

By sunrise, everyone in Rome will know
what you did and where you are.

Here, in my house.

So what's to be done then?

You will have to
give it back.

If you go direct
to Caesar now,

bring him Pompey's son as a
sweetener, he might show mercy.

Give it back?
I don't think so.

That's not advice.
That's an order.

Here's me come to share
a god-sent gift...

An order!

Damn you.
My home was invaded

and my wife near killed
on your account.

All right.

All right.

But you'll come
with me though, eh?

This is your mess.
You get yourself out of it.

Fine then.

I'll be off then.

Good luck to you, sir.

Forgive me. I will try
to return swiftly.

Excuse me, my dear.

Pullo, you scoundrel.

What have you done now?

Your honor, uh...

Lucius Vorenus said
I should come to you and...

Easy, soldier.

Who is this?

Quintus, son of Pompey.

So it is!

Quintus, my old cock,

how good to see you so.

Explain.

Well, it's like this,
your honor.

He, this one
come to find the gold.

What gold?

The gold that Pompey's boys
stole from the treasury, sir.

Pompey does not have it?

He doesn't, sir.

Now I meant no disrespect,

and had I known the gold
was from the treasury,

I'd not have touched it. But there was
this girl here, sir...

Never mind the girl.
Speak to the point.

Where is the gold?

It's all safe, sir.

I buried it

deep in the woods

a couple miles
from the Flaminian gate.

Thank you.

You will pay for this!

- Surely you can do better than that.
- Leave him be.

I'm sorry we meet
like this, Quintus.

I have only deep respect for
your father and his family.

Kiss my ass,
you traitorous dog.

Elegant little fellow,
isn't he?

You need not fear.
Your life is yours still.

I'm sending you back
to your father

- with an offer of truce.
- A truce?

Quiet.

Are you run mad?

When we have them on
their backs in the sand?

Be quiet.

An offer of equable truce
on good terms.

If violence continues,

it will not be my doing, but
that of your father and his allies.

My father needs no truce.

Two full moons will see you
on a spike in the Forum.

- You wretch!
- Put him on a horse.

You naughty woman.

Never told me Caesar had
such a passion for you.

Not so.

I saw the way
he looked at you.

Like the bull that
tupped Europa.

I can't blame him.

Such...

beauty.

Such beauty.

Too kind.

Far too kind.

Caesar has no
inclination to me.

Nor I to him.

And such modesty.

Is she not beautiful,
Calpurnia?

She has none
of the goatishness

one normally sees
in women her age.

She has some secret
potion perhaps.

You are attempting levity,
I believe.

Forgive me if I do not indulge
in such talk.

You're sure to regret
letting that one live.

He has a malevolent
spirit.

There's many left undead
I'll regret before I'm done.

Take Pullo
and retrieve the gold.

Legionary Pullo.

You are a thief.

A foolish,
incompetent thief.

But you have served
us well in the past.

So we will pretend your foolishness
is a species of honesty,

and let you go unpunished.

In fact, I think we
shall reward you.

I do not like to quarrel
with Fortune,

and clearly she's
taken you for a pet.

When you find the trove,
give him 100 gold pieces.

Thank you, sir.

As you wish.

By the by, Antony,
never question my judgment

in the presence
of our enemies.

You have a good memory,
so you will remember that.

- I will remember.
- Dismissed.

Men, horses!

- Quick about it!
- Forward!

Why do you frown,
little owl?

Marc Antony speaks sense.

Truce now does not seem
tactically correct.

Depends on terms.

- Ah.
- Ah.

You offer terms that
Pompey cannot accept

but Cicero
and the Senate can.

Swift...

Hold up, dominus,
there's people watching.

Sir, take us somewhere
none can see us.

What's in him?
Is he poisoned?

He has the Morbus Comitialis.
It will pass in a moment.

Please, dominus,
shut the door.

Should we not
fetch a doctor?

We should not.

At all costs, he cannot
have his affliction known.

No one will follow a man

whom Apollo has cursed
with the Morbus.

Vow to Orcus,
never speak of this.

Are you quite well,
husband?

Nothing serious.

Come.

Atia, I'm growing tired.
I think we shall leave you.

Oh, well.

- As you wish, of course.
- Good night, my dear.

Did you have
a pleasant evening?

I did.

Your niece Atia
is most polite,

and the Chief Augur made
many edifying remarks on religion.

I regret I will not be coming home
with you immediately.

But you're not well.

Really,
I am quite recovered.

I have urgent business
with my marsupial clerks.

Business at night?
It is not proper.

Not proper, but necessary.
I have to be ready to leave the city

and pursue Pompey as soon
as he refuses truce.

He will refuse?

I believe so.

What's wrong, Mother?

I'm alone.

I'm all alone.

- What does he say?
- Ridiculous!

- What does he say?
- Nothing.

Nothing worth repeating.

But he offers a truce.

On what terms?

Truce with that scum?
Are you women?

I'll have them raped
by dogs!

Silence.
Get out!

Excuse him.
He's been ill-used.

But he is right.
There can be no truce.

Of course not.

But Caesar does not ask
for so much.

- Legal immunity. Mutual disarmament.
- I must disarm? I?

I am lawful Consul of Rome.
He is a criminal.

There is nothing mutual
in it.

He may be a criminal,
but he has the city.

- We must deal with facts.
- Fact is, he is a traitor!

Let us be fair.

Consul, he has been
remarkably peaceable.

He has not killed your allies
or violated your property.

We should look
on this offer seriously.

Do you not see
his stratagem?

He is trying to drive
a wedge between us.

- A truce would buy us time at least.
- Quintus is right!

You are women!

Fools.

Tell me you love him.

Tell me that
and I will go away,

and I will never
come back.

I love him.

On the souls of my children,
I love him.

Titus Pullo, what joy!

- They let you go alive then?
- They did.

Where's Vorenus?

He's gone to make amends
at the shrine of Janus.

You know Evander Pulchio,
my brother-in-law, my sister's husband.

Evander, you say?

Good health, soldier.

And you.

Will you take water?

- I will.
- Sit you down.

Great Jupiter, graciously
give us clear signs

within the bounds
I have traced.

The auguries are good.