Spartacus

It is never an easy thing to see

a friend once loved

now absent breath.

He should yet walk.

That foolish grin,

and dreams of a life beyond these walls.

Every night breaks.

And we must all wake.

I would the gods turn back the sun...

And set me in his place.

He fought with honor.

As did you both.

His art was stilled for a boy's amusement.

Where is the honor in that?

Varro left this world a gladiator.

And shall be remembered as such.

No.

He will be remembered as a husband.

A father.

And a friend amongst enemies.

Aurelia...

Is it true?

That he perished by your sword?

He loved you as a brother.

He's not going to take this loss well.

And who can fucking blame him?

Calavius slaughters my stock at the whim of his maggot,

shits upon my ambitions,

mocking me in my own house.

No, not a loss to be taken fucking well.

But one that will be answered in kind.

Out.

He is a magistrate.

To move against him...

He is but a man.

And all men fall,

beneath the heel of their hubris.

Quintus..

Turn thoughts toward other matters.

What of Ilithyia?

Does she move to secure us her husband's patronage?

She has departed for Rome to meet Glaber.

Welcome news.

The support of a Legatus

should be more than enough to gain political office.

I only regret Calavius

will not live to see the "unworthy" name

of Batiatus so elevated.

The very thought of discovery...

It turns the stomach.

Make it a thing of iron, and see it settled.

What news?

Speak, caress my ear with words.

You will find them soft and pleasing.

We set upon the magistrate

on the road leaving the city.

The guards and wagon?

Attended to as instructed.

The man himself removed

to the appointed place.

Ashur?

Standing watch.

I will relieve him by cover of night.

I shall accompany.

I would gaze into the man's eyes,

and see the power of my reflection in them.

Until such time, avail yourself of my hospitality.

Wine, women...

Both would suit me.

And so deserved.

Dominus.

It's done, then?

No.

It's only just begun.

Behold, the glorious Champion of Capua.

A heavy heart weighs a man's sword.

The loss of a brother is heartfelt by every gladiator.

We honor him not with tears,

but with blood spilled in the arena.

Spoken as a true champion.

The games against Pompeii approach.

Years I have been robbed of the Primus

by Solonius and his bribes.

Finally it is secured by our Dominus,

and who fights?

Spartacus.

The woman who Grieves.

Spartacus.

You are summoned.

Is this truly my likeness?

Have so many years passed,

that marble must be etched with such lines?

Would that every man lived to see his face so marred.

And the wretched pass smooth of skin.

Varro's death has been foremost in my thoughts.

It seizes the breast

to lose a gladiator of such standing.

The comparison is false,

to a son losing his father.

A wife, her husband.

A burden, to be sure.

Yet he was aware of risk

and took them of his free will.

As a gladiator.

Not a child's plaything.

The magistrate and his whelp have caused us both pain.

It will not go unanswered, I promise you.

I would be of service towards the deed.

Take comfort from knowing its intent.

I would have your focus turned towards

the games of Pompeii.

That perfumed shit Solonius

always secured the Primus by inserting tongue in ass,

only to be crushed by our city's hated rival.

But this year

he falls out of favor.

This year the House of Batiatus

secures the honor!

Spartacus,

bringer of rain, to face Pericles,

titan of Pompeii!

It is to be sine missione?

No quarter given, no mercy shown.

And the purse?

To be on a footing with the match itself.

I would see it paid to Varro's wife.

A substantial sum.

You would see it all past from your fingers?

Along with future winnings that I claim in the arena.

A noble gesture.

One I shall see matched.

You would do this?

For Varro?

I would do it for you, Spartacus.

That you have peace of mind,

knowing his family is attended to.

These sad events have obviously taken their toll.

Rest, and be reassured that those responsible

for our pain will soon drink deep of their own.

It is regretful, what happened to Varro.

I saw in your eyes how you craved to

defy order of his death.

A shame you did not attempt it.

Goat-fuck!

I knew it!

Why do you fucking bleat?

You fight by my side, brother!

Like a suckling babe.

I would prove myself alone.

And die the same.

Our champion does not look to form.

Hm, the gods punish him.

For what offense?

You fucking jest.

Varro's blood,

still wet upon his hands?

His hands were removed from choice.

I would die before I would kill my own brother..

And who would see to your brother's family?

What answer do you give, Duro?

With both of you dead,

who would see to his wife?!

His child?!

My brother has no wife or child.

Wait!

Fucking thracians.

Apologies.

I called your name...

I did not hear.

You do not appear yourself.

Did Dominus send you?

He would see your spirits raised.

They do not deserve it.

Spartacus..

Your wound...

It's a scratch.

Varro suffered worse.

I will help you to your cell.

You are not needed.

Apologies.

Mira.

The man I saw you with...

I was ordered to tend to his needs.

He means nothing to me.

Such is not my concern.

The man was wounded trying to protect my wife.

Next you lay with him,

I would have you offer my gratitude.

Batiatus...

Apologies for the accommodation, magistrate.

Take comfort knowing that you will not

have to endure for long.

What is this madness?

Madness?

No.

It's only reason,

born of a clear mind and wounded heart.

Wounded?

I have done you no injury.

The man's crimes escape his lofty notice.