Spartacus: House of Ashur (2025) s01e04 Episode Script

[grunting]
- [blade rings, blood splatters]
- [yells]
[grunts]
Doctore!
Korris yet lives, though
grievously fucking injured.
Proculus moves against us?
The villain Fides is known
to be his man upon occasion.
What of your task?
[Korris] I broke words
and wine with Opiter
and gained his confidence.
I would see my men in deserved
position in the impending games.
Elevating the Syrian at my own expense?
What of dispatches from Rome?
Any been received?
No, Dominus.
[Gabinius] Viridia.
It swells heart to see
you stir from chambers.
The Syrian.
[Korris] Should the gods
favor you towards the arena,
you shall face three-
the Brothers Ferox,
vicious half-men.
Dominus has tainted it
by positioning woman
towards the arena.
[Ashur] Seize fate as
champion of this fucking house.
[blades ring, blood splatters]
[rapid percussive music, vocalizing]
[dark, eerie music]
[unnerving music]
[steady, pulsating music]
[thud on shield]
[Celadus] Brothers Ferox
may be twisted in form,
yet stand fierce opponent
capable of sending any man
or woman
into the afterlife.
[steady, pulsating music continues]
[yelling]
[crack]
[yells in pain]
Send the cunt to grass
and be done with it.
[men laugh]
[yelps]
[Celadus] Note distraction.
Pulling attention and blessing
Satyrus with open attack.
[yelling]
Good. Good.
Now press advantage.
[screams aggressively]
[grunting, shouting]
[music stops]
[coughs breathlessly, splutters]
[Tarchon] You assume proper place
for weakened animal.
[men laugh]
[Achillia coughs, breathes heavily]
[Ashur] Ah.
[Ashur] Is it intent
to lay in repose all morning
or prove worthy of the mark
of Brotherhood you now bear
and rise to fucking occasion?
[urines continues trickling]
Dominus, a message arrives.
From Crassus.
[dramatic music swells]
[Ashur] Aha.
'Prepare for honored arrival.'
That is the sum of it?
[Hilara] It stands all received.
When?
When will Crassus bless us
with fucking presence?
[Messia] We do not know.
Question was not posed
expecting fucking reply.
[sighs]
See floor polished to reflection.
Fill pool with water, fresh and clear.
Messia will attend to menial duties.
Go.
[Ashur] We must present
finest wines and exotic meats.
Have meal prepared to move the
gods themselves to salivation.
- For this day?
- Every fucking day
until Crassus materializes
or coffer runs fucking dry.
We cannot bear such
expense beyond week's end.
You break words towards any
beyond fucking calamity?
Apologies.
Sentiment deserved to be broken
from my tongue alone.
Fuck Jupiter's face!
We stand ill-timed for Crassus,
absent position in approaching games.
How do labors progress in such regard?
Vexing at fucking best.
Gabinius stands maker of decision,
yet his bitch Cossutia growls and froths
like Cerberus at the gate, denying entry.
What of Opiter?
Korris lays infirm,
unable to ply the man with
honey word towards cause.
Even if so swayed,
I fear Cossutia will hold
fast in hateful resolution.
A concern well shared.
Yet something fucking
must move the woman.
[woman moans sensually]
[moans erotically]
Your man possesses admirable talent
beyond sands of the arena.
His enthusiasm but rises
to the occasion of your beauty.
- [Cossutia laughs pleasurably]
- More wine?
[moans passionately] I would
pause
a moment. [pants]
[giggles excitedly]
Ah!
[sighs]
Gratitude!
- Leave us.
- [Cossutia sighs lightly]
[giggles breathlessly]
How I wish aged husband
possessed such artful tongue.
- Beyond oration in the Senate.
- [Opiter chuckles]
- How fares good Gabinius?
- Oh, I would hardly know.
His gaze is forever towards Rome
and growing tensions between
Pompey and Crassus.
A grievous concern, that of civil war.
Yet Cilician threat
to ports and goods more pressing.
We stand well removed from
waters of the Tyrrhenian
and fucking plunderers upon its waves.
And yet bodies have been found
in our very streets,
perhaps fallen to Cilician blades.
Bodies?
Six, discovered in wake of storm.
Among them
the brute Fides,
an unpleasant specimen
favored by Proculus.
Throat slit as gutted fish.
[blade rings]
[thunder booms]
I did not know the man.
Perhaps he fell to misadventure
of his own construction.
[sighs] It stands deepest mystery
why I yet wear this,
yesterday's fashion extended
beyond use or consideration.
Sackcloth is elevated to silk
upon frames such as yours.
Sackcloth shall be
a blessing before long.
It stands impossible challenge
to obtain new fabric
with those Cilician shits
preying upon our merchant ships.
Word upon breeze has caressed ear
of the finest Egyptian linens
arriving tomorrow at gates' close,
to be received by the trader, Spurius.
Egyptian?
- Are you certain?
- As sun breaking dawn each day.
Gratitude for timely consideration.
Are we not friends?
One I would see mountains reformed
towards shared interests.
[chuckles] I would not
ask such Herculean effort.
Mmm.
Yet there is one favor
I would humbly entreat.
Oh, give it voice and
see it well received.
Thoughts turn towards
games of Ludi Apollinares
noble husband presents.
Place mind at ease.
Your men shall hold position in them.
Honored, as always.
Yet I broach subject
not for myself but
for the House of Ashur.
You petition for the fucking Syrian?
By tenuous association only.
I speak toward worthy figure
of his Doctore, Korris,
deserving of the presentation
of his labors.
What stand you to gain from
unsavory request?
A man indebted by gracious act
pays future dividends when called upon.
You have always possessed
delicate sensibilities of foresight.
Yet I fear
this may have been
rare miscalculation.
[scoffs] In what regard?
Rumor vibrates that the Syrian's man
has suffered grievous injury.
- Injury?
- Mm.
Does he yet live?
[winces]
[Korris] Fuck the gods!
Ah.
We at last come to
common ground upon subject.
How does he fare?
Do you not see me
fucking rise before you?
With spirits inflamed,
although weak of flesh.
I yet draw breath. [winces]
And the rest shall follow shortly.
News to harden cock.
As what I break shall in return.
Crassus sends word of impending arrival.
Crassus?
- Upon what hour?
- Enigma yet to be revealed.
It weighs thought,
where he will stand
towards house conspiring
to present a woman in the arena.
As long as it heralds
adulation from the crowd
and coin in fucking palm,
Crassus shall stand delighted.
We will then turn favorable
humor towards advantage
and press the man to commit
effort into rebuilding the arena
destroyed by Spartacus and his mongrels.
Assuming we gain position in the arena.
When we gain position.
You fucking goat.
Come. You stand in need
of food and wine
and cleansing waters
to remove stench of
narrowly averted death.
I have stationed men
upon ridge to give signal
when procession comes to view.
When sounded, I would
have you fall to my side-
Dominus.
We have received unannounced guest.
Good Opiter! [chuckles lightly]
You grace us with unexpected presence.
Gratitude stands in order
for your generous gift of grain.
Oh, give it no thought. [chuckles]
Apologies for appearing in
advance of proper warning.
News only just reached ear
of your man's injuries.
I had feared him no longer among us.
I yet cling to fucking life and
stand absent need for concern.
Oh, he exaggerates recovery
as a matter of pride.
Apologies. I would offer
wine and midday repast,
yet pressing concerns pulls me to market.
- I shall take my leave, then.
- Oh, no. Remain.
Korris is to the baths
to soak troubled wounds.
Concern will be put from thought
knowing the weight of
his suffering is lifted
by caring hands.
[intriguing music]
Your presence would lend comfort.
[steam whooshes]
[intriguing music continues]
Are you often invited
into the Syrian's bath?
It has been known to happen,
upon occasion.
Hmm.
I was unaware he possessed such
appetites.
His desires do not extend
towards his fucking Doctore,
nor mine towards his.
You do not favor one
of such rich complexion?
The tone of a man's skin
stands meaningless.
When cut,
the color holds equal for all.
Ow!
Fall from presence.
A woman's hands offer rough comfort.
A man's, more
familiar with rugged terrain
traverses with practiced ease.
You need not burden yourself
with such a chore.
Hm. It's a rare privilege
for a mere mortal to touch the heavens.
[intriguing music]
Who handled you so roughly?
An old acquaintance
who took issue with recent conversation.
Does the villain carry a name?
Fides.
He fell upon me with a clutch of men.
Their lives claimed for the offense,
yet the man himself
fluttered to the winds.
And swiftly plummeted,
never to spread wings again.
Fides no longer draws breath?
Difficulty with throat slit.
Wounds not inflicted by my hands.
Then whose?
He was known to have
dealings with Proculus,
a thing I'm certain you're well aware of.
I have witnessed such
and mentioned to Cossutia this very day.
Troubles me to see flesh
so marred by base maneuverings.
I would see wounds visited tenfold
upon Proculus' men
in the arena.
Twice in as many visits
you have mentioned desire
to see yourself in the games.
Is such your own desire
in holding my company?
I am Doctore of this house.
Glory in the arena consumes fucking mind.
As well as that of the Syrian,
one would assume.
[chuckles]
It's a thing of no matter.
We must all play our part
in this game of men and their ambitions.
Words to be agreed upon. [chuckles]
Place worried thought aside.
I have broached subject with Cossutia
and will revisit upon
soonest opportunity.
Gratitude towards effort
wherever such may lead.
[intriguing music continues]
Next time you find yourself in need
[longing music]
part lips
and I shall storm Olympus
to see you satisfied.
[chuckles softly]
A bold claim
for one so slight.
Valiant purpose soars in your presence.
Is gesture yet in service of the Syrian?
He stands far from fucking thought.
[vigorous flute music plays, drums beat]
[woman moans lustfully]
[indistinct chatter]
Beef and fowl unmatched
by any offering in Capua!
Oysters stand fresh?
Neptune himself blesses
each fucking one of them.
They smell of his ass.
What make you of the moray and sar? Huh?
I fear they threaten
to exceed weight of purse,
added to what stands already purchased.
You would see Crassus presented
with thin fucking offering?
I would see him well attended,
short of coffers emptied in attempt.
- You fret beyond reason.
- Yet not beyond purpose.
As vilica, am I not charged
with the accounts of your house?
You stand so.
And I benefactor of
such attentive counsel.
[crowd cheers in distance]
[vigorous flute music plays, drums beat]
[crowd laughs]
[men grunt]
[vigorous flute music and drums continue]
[crowd laughs]
[crowd cheer, boo]
[crowd laughs]
- Ammonius, victor once again.
- [crowd cheers]
I almost fucking had him.
You almost had his cock in fucking arse.
[crowd laughs]
Good citizens of Capua,
in honor of the approaching
games of the Ludi Apollinares,
I again invite any Roman to step forth
and test worth against
the House of Proculus!
[crowd cheers]
Yeah!
The House of Ashur would
see challenge accepted.
Upon the sands of the arena.
[crowd mutters]
You stand absent giant shadow.
Where lurks your mighty Doctore?
Trainer of those who fall
against better fucking men.
[crowd laughs]
I thought it courtesy he
not eclipse your children
spilled from aberrant womb.
[crowd laughs]
We spill but wine
and the blood of shit and piss
you deem fucking champion.
[crowd laughs]
Victory well earned,
even for half-men.
[Crowd] Ooh!
Yet, let us see contest revisited
against the newest offering
from the House of Ashur.
A sight of wonder and awe,
never before witnessed
upon the sands of the arena.
Let the Syrian move good Gabinius
to secure position in the games,
and then behold the Brothers Ferox,
as again they send his
champion to deserved end.
[crowd cheers]
We stand ready to fuck
all who dare stand before us.
[crowd laughs]
Colossal words from
such little fucking man.
Perhaps
[crowd laughs, cheers]
[Satyrus] Brother Balbus
shows us the way!
[crowd laughs]
Let us honor the Syrian
with gifts of food
to feed malnourished men
beneath his fucking roof!
- [crowd laughs, jeers]
- [woman] Fuck the Syrian!
[man] Go to fucking hell! Fucking cunt!
[laughter]
[Erato] Words fall as shit from mouth.
It stands fucking so.
I witnessed a woman graced with
cunt and cock, one atop another.
[all laugh]
So did you fuck her, or she you?
[all laugh]
[indistinct chatter, laughter]
[Celadus] My own shit would
offer more flavored taste.
[men laugh in background]
Does cook offer anything
beyond fucking porridge?
Hm. Houses of higher esteem
have been known to present meat.
The gods fuck us, then.
A thing of deep familiarity
beneath this roof.
- You stand not afraid?
- Towards?
Breaking meal with someone so hated.
[scoffs] They but fall to distemper
in response to your promised
station as champion.
Absent time and effort
has claimed their own.
I bear the mark of the fucking
Brotherhood, as they do.
Yet not as they earned it.
A thing not of my choosing.
We all set upon rightful path,
footfall placed upon succession,
one following another.
You fall to seat only
to break words absent meaning?
[chuckles]
Bold proclamation from one who
spent the morning upon ground,
mouth filled with fucking dirt.
Give name to one among us
who could best three opponents.
If Dominus maneuvers entry
to games next presented,
you shall face equal number in the arena.
[scoffs] The Brothers Ferox?
Half-men barely formed
beyond that of a child.
Bend your fucking ear and
you clutch my words to heart.
The Brothers fight as one,
with singular mind.
The men that you face here
stand absent such purpose.
[all giggle childishly]
They appear of singular mind
to fucking eyes.
Yet one presses attack
absent thought of those who
would aid him in such regard.
You fight but single opponent.
You best him, and the
others will quickly fall.
[contemplative music]
You speak of your son.
- Tarchon?
- No, I speak of a gladiator
consumed by hubris,
with a thirst for glory.
A thing to be tempered if
he is to survive in the arena.
[grunts]
[suspenseful music]
Take stock of what you see before you.
This is what Capua thinks of our house,
because none of you shits
demonstrate fucking worth!
You gorge yourself upon my generosity,
- and in return
- [bowl shatters]
produce nothing but bleating
excuses and disappointment!
And know this.
Toil and task pulled
from effort of your Dominus
shall see this house to deserved position
in the fucking games.
And upon such day,
you shall claim victory
against the House of Proculus,
or I will see you all
to the fucking mines!
[Ashur] Doctore.
The marketplace appears
to disagree with you.
Break good words towards mind of Opiter
so I may ram them up Proculus' ass.
The man seems moved to aid us.
And how gauge you imagined
success upon venture?
Opiter has proved
unexpectedly persuasive.
[sniffs]
After all these years
of blood and sacrifice
clawing to precipice
of honored position
only to stake future upon man
so slight of fucking note!
Such specters often move where
men of more solid form cannot.
[pensive music]
What do eyes behold?
A chamber, embracing void.
Was not always so.
Here once stood the champions
of the House of Batiatus.
Visage and cock captured in stone.
Gannicus, Crixus,
the mad Thracian Spartacus,
gods of the arena.
[Ashur] Gods of the arena.
My former Dominus schemed his way
from beneath mountains of shit
to seize victory upon their backs.
Yet here stands Ashur
ever his better,
clutching air for thread
of fucking possibility.
Then let us weave it
into tapestry of victory
and show this fucking city
that we tower above all others.
[Hilara] Dominus.
Apologies. Another message has
been dispatched from Crassus.
Ah. Does it clarify
hour of day of arrival?
Not of person, but of baggage.
Ha!
He sends possessions in advance
and commands me as
beast of fucking burden
upon setting of morrow's sun!
Labors more befitting a slave.
As I yet stand in his fucking eyes.
A notion to be stricken if we defy odds
and see Achillia to victory.
I shall reclaim mantle borrowed by
No.
Your absence was gravely
noted in the Albana
by that shit Proculus.
I would have you fall to my side
and remain so attached in
event of future provocation.
Your will,
my fucking hands.
[resolute music]
[dramatic eastern music]
[music swells]
[grunting]
[Achillia grunts]
[introspective music]
Eyes fall upon you
with thoughts of fucking.
Well, she will find bitter
embrace within my arms.
[chuckles]
[whip lashes, cracks]
[Celadus] Tarchon,
Ephesius, Erato, take position.
Achillia.
[foreboding music]
Begin.
[Achillia screams aggressively]
[yelps in pain, coughs]
I will mourn your death
at the little hands of
Satyrus and his brothers.
[grunts aggressively]
[crack]
And see title of champion
fall to more deserving name.
Focus effort.
And you recall words broken between us.
[Achillia screams aggressively]
[men grunt]
[Achillia screams aggressively]
[screams aggressively]
[blades ring]
[men laugh]
[tense music slowly builds]
[grunting]
[screams aggressively]
[music fades]
[breathes heavily]
Proper place
for weakened animal.
Good.
Instruction towards victory
at last finds purchase.
[grunts]
[gate clangs loudly]
That fucking woman mocks this house.
With her prowess?
By elevation of position not yet earned,
by Dominus rewarding her with
the mark of the Brotherhood,
absent proper fucking test.
And
by shifting a father's allegiance
from its rightful place.
All could hold truth,
yet none negate poor
showing against Achillia.
Erato and Ephesius
should have bested her.
Yes. Perhaps they would have
had you not foolishly pressed
your own advantage,
a fault oft repeated.
Are those the fucking
words you broke with her
over yesterday's meal-
how to defeat your fucking son?
In Korris' absence, I stand Doctore.
And words shared reflected such.
You place her victory above mine.
I place the victory
of this fucking house
over all concerns.
And even those of blood.
Well, does it stand so tenuous a bond?
You are my son.
I would see you
rise above all others.
And I will honor you
when my time comes in the arena.
First,
you honor self
with thoughtful strategy.
I fight as I was taught-
by my father.
[somber music]
Then the failure is mine.
[somber music continues]
May you find a more willing
student in the fucking Nubian.
- Look, son
- [yells aggressively]
[dramatic music]
Again, you lash out,
absent thought of consequence.
And yet you froth
over how a woman bested you.
[gate slams]
[birds chirp]
Place game aside and gather yourself.
I would have you accompany me.
Where?
Where honored mother commands.
If passions lie beyond these walls,
I fear I stand not your reflection.
[Cossutia] Are we so opposed, you and I?
When you were yet a child,
we were of one heart and mind.
I'm far removed from the youth I was.
Yet here I stand, willing
to embrace you as such.
Apologies.
I am not myself.
And have not been so for too long a time.
Life has been unkind in its offering.
It is but oscillation
between joy and despair.
Each new day presents
fresh choice between them.
What is choice
when fate has final say,
often leaving but fractured
remnants in its wake?
You yet breathe.
And I thank the gods it is so.
I would have you return
to the happy child
that so brightened this house
and world beyond.
And if it holds nothing but shadow?
We cannot halt setting of the sun,
yet perhaps together, we may ignite torch
to guide our way
from darkness.
I promised Father a game of Latrunculi.
Game shall greet you upon return.
Opiter whispers that Spurius
the trader receives
Egyptian linen.
How I would see us draped in fineries
befitting mother
and radiant daughter.
Then let us to market.
Together.
[indistinct chatter]
[droning flute music plays]
Oh!
The sun threatens to
bake senses to oblivion.
Should we pause and fall to shade?
I find it comforting upon skin.
It lifts heart to see you resurrected
among the living, Viridia.
[gasps] Look.
Tertius graces presence.
Where stands his wife?
The name escapes me.
A woman of tenuous impression,
recently called to the
shores of the afterlife.
Poor man. A loss most keenly felt.
[scoffs] There stood
no love between them.
Only advantage of marriage,
strengthening respective families.
He does cut a form, does he not?
Any woman would be blessed
to call him husband.
Perhaps we should pay respect
and offer what comfort may be afforded.
The heat is a living thing, is it not?
I would lay eyes upon Egyptian
linen so breathlessly promised,
lest it evaporate in advance of purchase.
Let us fall to purpose, then,
and consider words with Tertius
at later convenience.
Discharged upon whim,
absent concern towards
obligation claimed my own.
Crassus yanks his leash
and expect obedient cur
to fall to fucking heel.
Does voice offend,
or do thoughts wander astray
from fucking consideration?
I care not for eyes upon us.
[uneasy music]
Let us attend demanded
undertaking and return to villa.
Absent fucking incident.
[chest thuds]
Is this the sum of it,
or does the man seek to transport
all of fucking Rome as well?
What eyes lay upon is all
I have been charged to deliver.
Then our business concludes.
Fall from fucking sight.
I would see us removed from the street
in advance of encroaching night.
You yet have more words to break,
or do you stand dumbstruck
by glorious form before you?
Apologies. I was instructed
payment would be due upon
receipt.
[clears throat]
And, uh what is the sum?
30 denarii.
30 denarii.
[coins jingle]
Purse stands shy of required sum.
Send notice for balance,
and I shall see you satisfied.
Upon what day?
Of my fucking choosing.
Press matter and find yourself
forever absent of need
of coin.
At your leisure, then.
Crassus stands richest man
in fucking Republic,
yet it falls upon this house
to see debt paid.
How do you hold the man
became so swollen with wealth?
By shrewdly using the coin of
others in place of his own.
A thing to aspire to.
Pay mind towards footing!
Injury to valued burden
will be visited tenfold
upon those accountable.
[eerie, mysterious music]
[Messia] Retrieve more water.
I would see pool filled before
our Dominus returns,
or brave ill humor so often unleashed.
His mood is but reflective
of forces brought to bear.
You must not hold such against him.
I shall do as commanded.
You are not to speak
to me in such manner.
Apologies
for breaking unwanted words.
Messia, what would you have me do?
I cannot return feelings I do not hold.
I wish to the gods I could reverse sun
and see them unspoken.
I do not mean to be unkind.
Nor I.
Yet I do not know how to be
when presented each day
with that which I desire
yet cannot have.
[wistful music]
[grunts]
[intense music slows]
[Ephesius] Your attention
wanders, brother.
[Tarchon] Towards vexing cause.
You take well to style of dimachaerus.
I never favored it.
You stand too vulnerable absent shield.
Yours offered little protection
when I sent you to fucking ground.
Do not ascribe to skill
what lies in fault of another.
More careful thought
will greet you next we meet.
Strategy counselled
by one more experienced?
[dramatic tone]
Yes, good.
It is a heavy thing,
living beneath shadow of noble father.
- I live in no man's shadow.
- Only a woman's, then?
[solemn music]
Upon a day,
Nubian.
Upon a fucking day.
[Tarchon] Ephesius!
Let us fall to proper fucking contest!
[both grunt]
[chuckles]
Oh, no.
How favor you
- Oh!
- this one?
[Horatia] A gift from the gods.
I've never felt its equal.
[merchant] I have yet more
to offer one so luminous.
[Cossutia] We are going
to fashion the finest stola
this city has ever beheld
in anticipation of your father's games.
The games?
Entering the pulvinus
draped in such finery
shall precipitate absolute riot.
- I will not be in attendance.
- Your father expects it so.
A desire I have not heard
expressed from his lips.
You must come, Viridia.
You have been too long removed
from eyes of adoring public-
[man grunts, blood splatters]
[Cossutia] Guards!
[woman screams]
[guard screams aggressively,
blades clang]
We must go!
[men grunt, blades clang]
- [guard] This way, come.
- [panicked screaming]
[tense music]
[men grunt]
[blade rings, blood splatters]
[panicked screaming]
Seize them!
[grunts]
[panicked screaming continues]
[distorted screaming]
- [man grunts]
- [Viridia screams]
Viridia!
[ominous pulsating music]
Why do you fall upon us?
Pose question to noble husband. [laughs]
- Argh!
- [grunts]
[laughs mockingly, grunts]
Mother!
We need but one.
Part her from fucking life.
[breathes heavily]
Fucking cunts!
[Viridia yells]
[Ashur grunts aggressively, blades clang]
[tense music]
[men grunt, blades clang]
[tense music continues]
[blade rings, flesh squelches,
blood-curdling scream]
[blade rings, blood splatters]
[ominous music slowly builds]
[blade rings, blood splatters,
man grunts]
[dark momentous music]
[blades clang]
Keep moving, you fucking bitch,
or I shall have your fucking blood!
- [crunch!]
- Argh!
[grunts]
Argh!
[screams]
[flesh squelches, blood drips]
[breathes heavily]
[gentle music]
[breathes heavily]
[man grunts aggressively, blade rings]
[dark, tense music]
[grunting continues, blades ring]
[tense music builds]
[heroic music]
[grunts aggressively]
[man grunts in pain]
[bone crunches]
Behind you!
[heroic music continues]
[blades ring, blood splatters]
[men grunt, blades clang]
[doomed music continues]
[blade rings, blood splatters]
[tense, momentous music slowly builds]
[Cossutia shrieks]
[blade rings, flesh thuds]
[blood-curdling scream]
[heroic music]
[music fades]
[distant screaming]
[Cossutia sobs]
[men grunt, blades clang]
[flesh squelches]
[screams chillingly]
[heroic music]
[blade rings, blood splatters]
[gasps breathlessly, groans]
[exhales sharply]
[soft, assured music]
You are safe now.
[Viridia inhales shakily]
You're hurt.
I would welcome a thousand such wounds
if earning of them
yet saw you grace this world.
Nor would I have you fall
from it, my life the cause.
[winces]
[Cossutia] Viridia!
[gasps] Mother!
I thought you dead! [sobs]
Such would have held true,
had Ashur and his man
not chanced upon us.
[Cossutia sobs]
Ashur.
[Viridia] Who are these men?
Cilicians.
We must return you
to your villa, quickly.
[Gabinius] Pirates?
Here within city walls?
So far removed from fucking sea?
They grow bold, absent
proper response from Rome.
Oh, thank the gods you did
not fall to rancorous harm.
[Viridia] They held no divinity in it.
Ashur and his man delivered
us from untimely fate.
[sobs] Would that Horatia
stood as fortunate.
The Aedile's wife?
Slain?
In the streets, whilst sun
yet graced fucking sky?
Wife and daughter stood
apparent bounty sought.
Towards ransom, one would suspect.
An outrage that shall
be answered in blood.
I fear it has already been drawn.
He suffered injury in the exchange,
no thought given to
safety beyond our own.
He shall be properly attended.
See yourselves to bath and wine,
to calm inflamed nerves.
Once more,
tongue bends towards gratitude.
Unnecessary.
Yet gratefully received.
[Cossutia] I thank the gods
you were present
and had not succumbed
to rumor of previous wounds.
I but stood as any man of
means and skill would have-
to protect the Republic.
[Gabinius] Fall to the baths.
I would break words with
the Syrian in private.
I shall attend to Crassus' shipment.
Crassus?
We prepare for his imminent arrival.
He disengages from his army in Rome,
so entrenched outside its gates?
Such is message recently
dispatched into my hands.
More than can be said of Pompey.
He remains unmoved by request
to unset from opposing perch
and quell these Cilician cutthroats.
Perhaps loss of untold men
in failed attempt
may give them pause.
Or they shall see efforts redoubled
at expense heart can ill afford.
We must remain vigilant
against such possibility.
Beloved daughter broke
words carrying truth.
Gratitude is owed.
As is reward rising to level of deed.
[insects chirp]
Your noble daughter
yet among the living
presents reward beyond measure.
A debt unpaid promises future expense.
Often many times original sum.
It is well known by all blessed
with sense of fucking hearing
that you desire entry
to approaching games
of the Ludi Apollinares.
Thoughts occasionally turn upon subject.
Then cease the churning of them.
I shall see you well positioned.
[chuckles softly]
I
I do not possess words.
Do not misconceive intent.
I but erase debt,
one I would not see plied against me
upon inconvenient moment.
Ah.
Then we stand balanced, in all regards.
Come. I shall have my medicus
attend your wounds.
Oh, a burden I will not impose.
My own shall see to unconcerning wounds.
I assure you mine stands
of greater skill.
Of that I hold no question.
Yet I prefer not to stand in your debt.
[chuckles softly]
You learn quickly, Syrian.
Very well.
Let us part ways equally
untethered.
[exhales deeply]
You left Dominus at Gabinius'
villa, to return alone?
Ashur proves himself capable.
Those who underestimate him
do so at their own fucking peril.
I would still see guards dispatched.
Place concerns aside.
The man himself appears.
Dominus.
- Fetch the medicus, quickly!
- Oh, fuck medicus!
I will bathe hard-fought wound
in a river of fucking wine.
Gabinius breaks words
towards such elated mood?
He breaks words that
shall elevate this house.
We stand blessed with position
in his fucking games.
And you. [chuckles excitedly]
You fucking titan!
Your part in this shall not soon
fall to discarded remembrance.
Wine! Where is the fucking wine?
How did you broach subject with Gabinius?
A thing not required.
He offered unprompted
reward towards rescue
of beloved wife and daughter.
And you maneuvered such
towards advantage in the arena?
I maneuvered nothing.
Tongue threatened to leap from
mouth at the thought, but
heart held it fast in place.
Viridia's life spared stood reward enough
to consume all desire.
The gods I hold no faith
in favored humble Ashur.
And you as well, with
unwanted task now removed.
Task?
Lowering yourself to imagined affection
to gain Opiter's aid towards the games.
That preening little shit
no longer stands of use.
It is a relief not to be
forced into his company.
See all within this ludus to formation.
And let us present glorious news
of fucking
- ascension!
- [cup shatters]
[dramatic music]
You expect burning gaze
to set her aflame?
If I were so fortunate,
surely my father would rush
to extinguish blaze.
This house has given rise
to storied champions of lore and legends.
Yet all who have come before shall pale
against what I have fought
with blood and bone
to see opportunity presented.
And such have been secured.
We have gained position in the
games of the Ludi Apollinares!
[all cheer]
And who shall grace the sands, Dominus?
- Tarchon, hold tongue.
- [scattered laughter]
The boy is overcome by visions
of glory. [chuckles]
Positions and placements
have yet to be broached.
Yet know this.
We shall see the Brothers Ferox
to fucking grass
for offense presented
by the shit Proculus,
by the hands
of the goddess of fucking death.
[momentous music]
Fall to your beds and gather
strength for coming days.
I will announce those among
you who are for the arena-
Dominus.
Procession has been spotted
upon road towards villa.
[laughs excitedly]
Our patron, Crassus, at last arrives.
Let him stand in awe
at the fearsome offering of
the House of fucking Ashur!
[all cheer]
Doctore, fall to my side
and let us greet destiny
with worthy embrace.
[all cheer]
[momentous music]
[insects chirp]
Do robes fall in manner
matter pleasing to eye?
You intend to welcome the man
or present your arse for his pleasure?
- [horn blares]
- His wagon arrives.
Straighten backs.
Assume pleasant disposition,
yet cast gaze downwards
to avoid catching eye.
[expectant music]
[horse whinnies, reins jangle]
[regal music]
Whoa!
Korris, three steps lingering a pace.
[exhales deeply, clears throat]
[fanfare music]
[footsteps approach]
[momentous, thumping music]
Mighty Crassus, you honor
us with your noble presence.
You mistake me, Syrian.
Caesar.
[bright, dramatic music]