Rome

"My dear friend Gaius,

"how 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 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.

This abject humiliation is good enough?

We're not men. We're worms.

Worms is harsh.

Worms cannot run away as speedily as we do.

Caesar has not even left Rome, the 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.

- But they have and we don't. - Let us cleave to the matter at hand.

You must give some notion of when you will agree to meet him.

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

- The dispute is Caesar and the Senate's. - 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.

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 mercy to every man that deserts Pompey, you will pauperise yourself.

There's dozens 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.

- Throne? - Poetic license. What else?

Atia invites you to dinner tonight.

Again?

Not tonight, in any case.

- What excuse? - None.

- It's the second time you've refused 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 Gnaeus 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've just heard a strange tale about you from the kitchen staff.

For what reason would you and Caesar be skulking about in a cupboard?

What? It was nothing.

It doesn't sound like nothing.

- You seduced him, you sly little fox. - I did not.

I'm not clear it is decent, him being your great-uncle

but who's to say what's decent?

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.

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

- A man likes it if you play hard to get. - Leave him alone.

Now, I've invited Caesar and Mark Antony for dinner tonight.

- Be sure you look especially... - I am not his lover!

- Do not lie to me. You know I detest it. - I am not lying.

He has a terrible affliction.

What affliction? By whom?

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.

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 for your dowry.

So when Crito comes home, you and Lucius can go to him and start married life.

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

November? It's so soon.

- They have to go at some time. - Of course but November.

It's hard but it has to be done.

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

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

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.

It's not that.

I ate some depraved oysters.

Where's your girl?

Cack...

- I know it's one of these. - 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. 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're not me. You've 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. - What's her purpose?

I just like to look at her. It 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.

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?

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. - Can't I have a Gaulish slave?

My Gauls would 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.

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 suspected anything, he'd go straight to Vorenus and tell him.

- Course he would. - Do 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 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 truce. Make peace.

- In exchange for what? - Peace is its 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, 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.

Come on!

He's worth more than that, look at him! Look at the arms on him.

Come on! 40, 50. Thank you very much. Any advance on 50?

First Spear Centurion Lucius Vorenus. I've been looking for your return.

I'm no longer in the army, citizen. I've come to sell my stock.

Black blood flux. Nothing to be done.

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?

A respectable price.

More than enough to pay the feed bill.

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