All language subtitles for Rome - S1Ep05 - The Ram Has Touched the Wall

"My dear friend Gaius,

how are we come

to this absurd position?

In the interests
of peace and equity,

- I accept..."
- The Senate and People of Rome

have authorized me
to accept.

"...the Senate
and People of Rome

have authorized me
to accept a truce..."

No, not truce.
That would imply

that he is a sovereign
rather than a criminal entity.

Quite right.
A criminal.

"...have authorized
me to accept

a cessation of hostilities...

on the terms offered
in your last letter.

I await your answer."

- Good enough.
- Good enough?

This abject humiliation
is good enough?

We are not men.
We are worms.

Worms is harsh.

Worms cannot run away
as speedily as we do.

Caesar has not
even left Rome,

Gods know why not,

yet his legions
chase us

from town to town
with great ease.

We're more like sheep
than worms.

If our levies had not failed,
if we had money to pay troops...

Yes, but they have
and we don't.

Let us cleave to the matter at hand.
Pompey, you must give

some notion of when you will agree
to meet him in person.

- Never.
- There is no reason for them to meet.

The dispute is between
Caesar and the Senate.

- It is the proper form.
- I'll not meet the man.

Never. Like a son,
he was to me.

What he was like
to you is immaterial.

It is only
by Jupiter's mercy

that he has not already
put our heads on pikes.

Mercy? Jupiter has
no mercy for cowards.

- Cato, be careful.
- You'll accept abject surrender...

This is not surrender!

Pompey Magnus
does not surrender.

I need time.

A truce gains us
that time.

Verrus Horta sends
three jars of amber

and informs us he has
left the standard of Pompey.

He entrusts his living
to your abundant mercy.

- Horta?
- Pederast, waxy skin, red hair,

- estates in Tusculum.
- I have him, the wretch.

Send a small bag of money
with a fulsome letter

and make him
a Quaestor or something.

Show such mercy
to every man that deserts Pompey,

you will pauperize yourself.
There's dozens of them coming every day.

Judicious use of mercy
is worth 10,000 men.

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

- A throne?
- Poetic license. What else?

Atia invites you
to dinner tonight.

Again? Bona Dea.

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

- None.
- This is the second time

you have refused
an invitation from her.

I need not account
for myself to Atia.

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

They say slaves talk of bravery
as fish talk of flying.

They say that, do they?
How very witty of them.

"Seeking only justice
and peace

and to avoid the unnecessary
shedding of Roman blood,

Gaius Julius Caesar
has publicly implored

the renegade
Gnaius Pompey Magnus

to accept truce
and lay down his arms."

What are you doing?

It's rather fun, and there's
quite an art to it.

Strange boy.

I have just heard
a very strange tale

about you
from the kitchen staff.

For what possible reason
I wonder,

would you and Caesar
be skulking about in a cupboard?

What? We were...
it was nothing.

Nothing? It doesn't
sound like nothing.

You seduced him,
you sly little fox.

- I did not.
- I am not clear it is decent,

him being your great uncle,
but who's to say what's

decent in times like these?
In any case, well done.

Let's see Servilia compete
with a soft young boy like you.

- What power we shall wield.
- You have it wrong.

A good lover
is a discreet lover.

He was taken ill. I was helping him
to recover, that's all.

Of course he was, my dove. Now in the
future you must not appear too eager.

A man likes it if you
play hard to get.

- Why don't you leave him alone, mother?
- Now, I have invited

Caesar and Mark Antony
for dinner tonight.

We'll be sure you look especially
handsome...

I am not his lover!

Do not lie to me.

- You know I detest it.
- I am not lying.

He has an affliction.
A terrible affliction.

Affliction? What affliction?
By whom?

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

Oath be damned!
I am your mother. Tell me.

Excuse me.
I will not.

Well, that's
very disappointing.

Caesar sends to say
he cannot come this evening.

No matter.

- Why not?
- He doesn't say.

Titus Pullo is sleeping
on the stairs again.

- Has he nowhere else to go?
- He won't be in Rome much longer.

Tell me, when is the youth
returning? Your husband.

- Crito.
- When does he return from his droving?

- November. Why?
- I'm selling my slaves today.

There'll be money enough
spare for your dowry.

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

- and start your married life proper.
- Thank you, Father!

- Thank you.
- We'll be sorry to see you go.

November?
It's so soon.

- They have to go at some time.
- Of course, of course,

- but November.
- It's hard, but it has to be done.

They'll be so far away.
You know how these drovers live.

But Mama, I want to go.
I want to be with my husband.

I know. I know.
Of course.

You must go.

It's just hard.

Morning.

Trouble you
for some water?

Sit down.

- You should be in camp.
- Nothing to do there.

- It's boring.
- Take some bread.

I'll not, thanks.

I'm not feeling too well.

You're drinking too much.

No, it's not that.

I ate some
depraved oysters.

- Where's your girl?
- Girl?

Cac!

I know it's one of these.
I know it!

Stop worrying.

Even if we can't find her,
you can get another.

I don't want another.
I want Eirene.

You'll be off south after Pompey
before long.

You can't take her
soldiering.

Maybe I won't
go back to camp.

My time is
nearly done anyway.

Leave the 13th? Why?

- You did.
- You are not me.

You have no talent
for peace.

I can't just leave her.

- You think with your penis.
- It's not like that.

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

I just like to look at her.
Makes me calm.

Here she is.

Thank you, Apollo.

The girl is his.

No trouble.
Pay what's owed,

- and the girl is all yours.
- What's owed?

You should be paying me to drink
the pond filth you serve here.

Pullo!

How much?

I'll pay you back
soon as I can.

Do that.

So what will
you do with her?

- I don't want her.
- Say again?

I don't want her. It's nice of
you to think of it...

But you want a slave.
You keep asking for one,

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

Can't I have one of
your Gaulish slaves?

I've told you,
my Gauls are unseasoned.

Cut your throat as soon
as sweep your floor.

This one's trained up
nice and docile.

What is wrong with her?

- She has strange eyes.
- You drive me insane!

The girl stays.

Keep calm, sweetie.
Keep calm.

How can I be calm when Pullo's
put that little witch to spy on me?

He knows, Rissa,
he knows.

Big simple brute
like that?

If he even
suspected anything,

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

- Course he would.
- You really think?

- He doesn't know nothing.
- Really?

Sure of it. So he saw Evander
round your house.

So what? He's family.
He's allowed.

- That's true.
- You're getting worried over nothing.

Gods, let it be so.

Poor sad wretch gives
everything you asked for.

The Senate
will ratify your status,

you get your triumph,
stand for consul,

and Pompey
shall withdraw to Spain.

He'll suck Posca's cock
if asked nicely.

Too generous by far.
I never thought for an instant

- Pompey would accept such terms.
- You think it's a stratagem?

I doubt it.

He and what few forces
he has are trapped.

He's weak and growing
weaker every day.

We might
crush him at will.

But now that
he has offered truce,

I will look like the
worst kind of tyrant if I attack him.

Posca here thinks
I should accept the truce.

- Make peace.
- In exchange for what?

- Peace is it's own reward.
- Snivelry.

The ram has touched
the wall. No mercy.

Pompey has no great army,
but he has the Senate with him.

- He has legitimacy.
- In Rome they are the Senate.

Beyond the walls
they are just 300 old men.

As you say, Antony,
but others will agree with Posca.

They have made
this shameful surrender public.

It will be read
all over Italy.

If I am not a tyrant,

if I merely seek legitimacy,

why would I not accept
such favorable terms?

He refuses
to meet us...

in person?

Very good. Simple.

Hoi polloi can understand
a reason like that.

He refuses to meet me
face to face.

Man to man.

He refuses to meet me.

Right, that's it.

No truce.
Let's be after them.

Patience.

He's well caught.

We'll leave when
the time is right.

When?

When the time is right.

But we should have
left Rome long ago.

The apple is ripe
for the plucking,

and we just sit here
doing nothing?

Pompey is not an apple

and I am not a farmer.

Call for my guard.

First Spear Centurion
Lucius Vorenus.

I have been looking
for your return.

I'm no longer
in the army, citizen.

I've come
to sell my stock.

Ah, well...

Black blood flux.
Nothing to be done.

- Flux?
- I kept 'em here despite the stink

so you'd know I'd done
you nothing dodgy.

Nobody to blame.

Fortune left you
one at least.

- Auspicious boy that is.
- How much will he fetch?

Oh, a respectable price.

More than enough
to pay the feed bill.

- Feed bill?
- They didn't starve to death.

Move!

- Nothing?
- Not nothing. The boy will fetch

- a good price when he's healthy.
- What's that?

Your father brought him back from
Gaul. What will we do till then?

To keep?

We're selling him as soon
as he gets some color.

- What will we do after that?
- What's his name?

He hasn't got one!

We'll call him Rubio
after my pigeon that died.

We've nothing saved.

Don't worry. I will
think of something.

And again.

This is a rout.

Shall I be merciful?

I think not.

How will you pay
your debt?

All that I have
is already yours.

What else can I give you?

Don't leave me again.

I never left you.

The men are going
mad from boredom.

Just today I had to cut the hands off
a perfectly good Legionary

for murdering a civilian.

Then I had to listen
to a jumped up freedman

raving for hours

about one of my centurions seducing his
daughters.

- It all sounds very tedious.
- It is your uncle's fault.

He should've taken
the legions south after Pompey.

The men know it,
and it makes them restless.

Of course...

he pretends
it is a stratagem.

But every dog in camp

knows that Servilia
has unmanned him.

He will not
be parted from her.

I...

as you can tell,

am not unmanned.

Intolerable.
Intolerable!

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

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

How you take after
your father... simple as milk.

If he were not mewling in bed with that
witch he would be chasing down Pompey.

It is not trivium.
The Republic is at stake.

Since when do you care
about the Republic?

I care deeply
about the Republic.

It would be very unwise
to cause trouble about this.

Of course.
I wouldn't lower myself.

Such sordid couplings have
a way of turning out badly anyhow...

by no one's special doing.

- Tutor has arrived.
- Oh good.

Your tutor has arrived
and waits in the rear yard.

Tutor?
What tutor?

It's high time you learned
the masculine arts.

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

There's plenty of time yet
for all that.

Plenty of time for you to bury yourself
in worthless scribbles.

You may read
those old Greek fools

until blood runs from
your eyes, you'll be none the wiser.

I cannot agree. The Greek
philosophers have much to teach us.

Well, here's a Greek
philosopher for you.

I've engaged
that soldier of yours.

- Vorenus?
- Was that it?

Not the sullen Catonian one,
I don't like him.

- The cheerful brutish one.
- Pullo.

That's it. What extraordinary
names these plebs have.

Pullo.

Defend! Shield.

Shield.

Don't wave it about.

Shield.

Enough!

Water.

This is absurd.

I have no soldiery
stuff in me.

And this exertion
brings on a fever.

- I feel it in my spleen.
- You're just not used to it.

It takes time.
I've seen you kill.

- There's plenty of soldier in you.
- It's not the killing.

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

I dare say I can kill
people readily enough,

as long as they're
not fighting back.

Never fear, young Dominus.
We'll make a regular terror of you.

At best I will be
a middling swordsman.

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

The graveyards are full
of middling swordsmen.

Best to be no swordsman
at all than a middling swordsman.

Don't do that.

Excuse me.

Young Dominus...

I need your advice
on a delicate matter,

- if you'd be willing?
- I am.

Suppose you saw something
which made you suspect something...

something terrible.

Would you tell the husband
of the suspicious article?

Suppose suspicion of what?

- Another man.
- Ah.

We are speaking of Vorenus
and his wife, I presume.

I never said that.

It seems to me that suspicion alone
is not enough to speak.

Once spoken out, the suspicion
of such depravity

is real enough to do
the work of truth.

And what if
you are mistaken?

Then Vorenus is
dishonored by error.

Facts are necessary.
Without facts, you must remain silent.

I knew you'd hit
the jugular.

Refuses truce.

What now?

What now?

How happy, eh?

To be a slave.

To have no will.

To make no decisions.

Driftwood.

How very restful
it must be.

- Erastes Fulmen.
- Centurion.

I have come
to seek your counsel.

Always happy
to help a friend.

I need to borrow
some money

and I am told you have
friends in the lending trade.

I do.

I do. I only hesitate
because I'm surprised.

You was well found.

My slaves were taken
by the black flux.

But once I raise capital,
I'll go up North and buy some more.

I have good contacts
in Narbo.

- Be needing a big chunk then?
- I will.

I cannot.

Wrong to lead a citizen
like yourself down that path.

Rough business,
moneylending.

Man can't pay,
he may have to suffer.

Was I to introduce you
to a lender,

I would be putting
two wolves into one cage.

To neither's benefit.

You're right.
You're right.

Thank you for your time.

Centurion, there are other
ways to make money.

Man like you,
there's situations

his simple presence
would be valuable.

- A man like me.
- A hard man.

First Spear Centurion
in Caesar's mighty 13th.

- I'm no longer in the army.
- No matter.

Your bearing is enough.

You would lend dignity and
strength to business transactions.

If you like,
I could use you myself.

Show you the onions.

That's good of you,

but I still don't see
what I would do exactly.

You would come with me
to discourage trouble.

No one's going to mess with
a First Spear Centurion.

I'd be a bodyguard.

Good money.

I told you!
I told you!

I'm sorry, I couldn't
help it. I can't...

Damn you! Damn her!
I am your wife.

Me. I am your wife.

Lyde!

That's lovely.

It's not too army-like?

Like a man
of deep business.

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

It's a start.

Please please,
just for me.

What is the matter
with everybody?

Lock him up, girls!
Lock him up!

Ohh! Oy, Calpurnia!

Ooh, yes!

- Calpurnia...
- Do not trouble yourself with denial.

- I did not intend to.
- Be rid of her and we'll say no more.

- Let us not...
- Or divorce will follow.

Perhaps that is not
enough to deter you.

Be that as it may,
I am indifferent.

We cannot divorce now.

Her family's influence will be critical...

I know it.

Bring me out
the smaller scales.

- Centurion, you're right on time.
- Citizen.

Why do we not meet
in the Forum?

Forum's only for closing deals,
putting a hand on it public-like.

Enough of that
Teuton droning!

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

whistle a good Roman
song at least.

And she complained
I was like an elephant.

Tanjit, my honey duck,

- you're looking well.
- Erastes Fulmen.

I kiss your mother's feet.

Please, sit.

Would you like
something to eat, drink?

- Wine will do.
- We do not have wine. Milk, perhaps?

Milk?!
Run out of piss, did you?

Humor.
Very good.

I'm sad to have
to come here, Tanjit.

I'm very depressed.

I thought we were
businessmen.

I thought we understood each other,
yet here we are.

Here we are.

I'm only going
to ask once.

Where's my money?

Where's my truffle pigs?

50 pigs you have
as ordered.

50 diseased
and scrofulous pigs.

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

Haven't been eating
acorns, have they?

Fucks them for truffling,
too much acorns.

I will give you one quarter price.
Out of friendship.

You'll give me
every mumping denarius

- you cac-faced cunny!
- Really,

there is no call
for rudeness.

I'm told Hindus live on
after death. Is that true?

Our bodies die
and decay as yours will.

But our souls
live on eternally.

Well, that's nice
arrangements.

- You're not afraid to die then?
- Not at all.

Break his arm.

Break his arm.

Give me my money,
you monkey's cunt.

Kiss my ass.

Cut his throat.

Cut it!

What are you doing?

What happened?

What's wrong?
Tell me.

Erastes Fulmen asked me
to kill a man.

You refused him?

What else was I to do?

- I am no bandit.
- Of course you're not.

You couldn't do
other than you did.

But how are we
to pay the rent?

How are we
to feed the children?

He's here!

I'm so glad!
I thought you might not...

I regret
I cannot stay.

I've come
to say goodbye.

Goodbye?

I'm going south
in pursuit of Pompey,

and we shall not
see each other again.

- What, never?
- Never.

Don't joke so.

I am not joking.

Is this because of some
foolish graffi...

Servilia,
we are done.

How can you say that?

We love each other.

Be assured,

it is not that I
do not love you.

I do this against
my own inclination.

There are, however,
larger issues at stake,

and I must do what is right
for the Republic.

The Republic?!

Why so happy, Mother?

No reason.

None at all?

No clever little plan
bearing fruit?

None at all, my poppet.

Nor should you
suggest otherwise...

to anyone.

What's all the fuss?

- We go south tomorrow.
- Excellent.

If we move fast, Pompey will
be eating dust by the Kalends.

You'll remain here
with the 13th to keep the peace.

Keep the peace?

The city will be in your charge.
I'll leave Posca to assist you.

That's ridiculous! I'm a soldier,
not a peacekeeper.

You will follow orders,
damn you.

I was considering...

I'm sick and tired...

...I have a farm near here.

Lovely at this time
of year.

I was considering
that I might go there.

Stay for the harvest.

Perhaps you'd like
to join me?

That is very kind,

but I think
I will stay here.

No good will come
of staying.

I don't know.

The sea air is
bracing at least.

If you do not go then
I cannot go, I suppose.

It would look cowardly.

What matter? You would
know it were not so.

Oh, I would know,
certainly.

But I do not have

a grand shining
old name like you.

I must keep my name
well-polished,

else it looks very dull.

- I must stay then
- I'm sorry, old man.

Soldier!

You're on duty.

The general
will see you now.

Copy this.

What do you want,
citizen?

I've reconsidered
my position, sir.

I wish to accept
your offer.

My offer?

Of entry into Evocati.

If same terms
still apply.

I said you could
join Evocati?

With respect, sir,
you did.

What terms did I offer?

Evocati Prefect
first grade,

10,000 sesterces.

That's a generous offer.
One which you declined.

Normally, I would never
make the same offer twice,

but you're lucky.

Cesar is away,

and I am here alone.

And I shall need
good men.

So I give it you,

promotion to Prefect

and 9,000 sesterces.

Thank you, sir.

In return
for my generosity,

Lucius Vorenus,

I expect loyalty.

Loyalty unto death.

Unto death, sir.

Welcome home.

Dismissed.

Put him here.
Domina...

this is one of them that drew
the filthy pictures.

Didn't take long
to make him speak.

Eh?
Creature!

Who hired him?

Timon,
the Horse Jew.

Atia's man.

Dress me.

- It's done.
- They'll have you back?

They will.

Evocati Prefect
first grade,

9,000 sesterces.

I've sold myself
to a tyrant.

It had to be done.

Thank you.

Gods of the Junii,

with this offering
I ask you to summon

Tyche, Maegara
and Nemesis,

so that they witness
this curse.

By the spirits
of my ancestors,

I curse

Gaius Julius Caesar.

Let his penis wither.

Let his bones crack.

Let him see his legions
drown in their own blood.

Gods of the inferno,

I offer to you
his limbs,

his head,

his mouth,

his breath,

his speech,

his hands,

his liver,

his heart,
his stomach.

Gods of the inferno,

let me see him
suffer deeply,

and I will rejoice

and sacrifice to you.

By the spirits
of my ancestors,

I curse Atia
of the Julii.

Let dogs rape her.

Let her children die

and her houses burn.

Let her live
a long life

of bitter misery
and shame.

Gods of the inferno,

I offer to you
her limbs,

her head,

her mouth, her breath,

her speech, her heart,

her liver, her stomach.

Gods of the inferno,

let me see her
suffer deeply,

and I will rejoice

and sacrifice to you.

- Here we are then, friend.
- What do you want?

- Tell us what's between you and Niobe.
- Eh?

Niobe?
Nothing. Never.

I swear by Jupiter,
never!

Furies tear my eyes out
if I lie!

What were you doing
when I saw you with her?

My wife...
we were fighting.

I went to Niobe
for advice, that's all.

I was crying, if you want
to know the truth,

and Niobe
commiserated with me.

I would never...
I would never...

- Maybe he's telling the truth.
- Lying.

I'm not!
I'm not!

Lying.

If he says you're lying,
then I believe him.

This boy is clever
like you don't know what.

- No, please, I beg you!
- Hush.

Don't embarrass yourself.

We know you're lying.
We know it, you understand?

We have to kill you.

- I never touched her.
- Evander, move forward.

Your life is over.
The only question is,

how do you want to die?

We need to hear the truth.

If you persist in lying
to us, we'll torture you.

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

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

- Please.
- Evander, tell the truth.

- Torture him.
- Juno's cunt, but you're salty.

And I was worried
about bringing you.

Go on then.

I've never actually
tortured anyone.

- I don't know how.
- You don't know how?

- They have specialists!
- Why not cut off his thumbs?

That's good enough.
It's a start.

Niobe and I were lovers.
I confess it.

Kill me if you must.

Hold.

What else?

Nothing else.
Kill me.

You're lying again.

You stand at Pluto's door.
Will you sully his threshold with lies?

- I am done talking.
- Cut off his thumbs.

The child!

- The child is mine!
- Child? What child?

Lucius.

The baby.

Please, kill me now.
Please.

- Lucius, Vorenus' son?
- Niobe's son.

My son.

It's mine.

We have buried
this evil now.

You must never speak
of it again.

Vorenus must never know.

Never.

Father Mars Strider,

this man has done
faithful vigil for you.

We therefore ask you
to take him under your protection.

May his enemies flee
from him.

May their
city walls crumble.

May their cattle
and women be taken.

This man...

is now Evocati.

Sir, they've sailed
for Greece.