All language subtitles for Centurion.2010.1080p.BluRay.x264.

My name is Quintus Dias.

I am a soldier of Rome.

And this is neither
the beginning

nor the end of my story.

Hyah! Hyah!

Two years on the frontier.

This place is
the asshole of the world.

Even the land
wants us dead.

Centurion Dias, it's too damn cold
to be standing watch.

It's not my watch.

I'm just wondering
what's out there.

The patrol returns
at dawn.

You should get
some sleep.

The longer we stay,

the deeper the cold and damp
soaks into our bones.

And the rain makes way
only for the stinging bite

of the north wind.

While we lose brave men
to foot rot and frostbite,

the Pict king Gorlacon
sends his war parties

to raid along the frontier at will.

- Gentlemen.
- Good evening, sir.

Cold night on the front.

My father believed that
to truly defeat an enemy,

you must know him
better than yourself.

I know this enemy well.

They play only to
their strength

and will not be drawn
into open combat.

Instead they pick at
the scab until we bleed,

hiding in the shadows
like animals,

striking hard and fast,

then falling back
into the night.

Come the dawn,
we count our losses

and sow the earth
with our dead.

This is a new kind
of war--

a war without honor,

without end.

To arms! To arms!

Marcus, ride to Agricola!

Gate! Move!

Ahhh!

Move, soldier!

- Gratus.
- Save yourself.

Ahh!

Virilus! Virilus! Virilus!

The winner.

Yes!

Again!

Enough!

You put up a good fight.
Now you drink with me.

Septus, more ale.

Again, Virilus.

You're a drunk--
an ugly drunk.

And not too bright.

Isn't 10 times enough
to know when you're beaten?

Damn you!
Again!

Once more.

Septus, your ruling.

And watch my flank.

Come on!

Virilus! Virilus!

Virilus. Virilus.

Ahh!

Sore loser.

Septus?

What are you waiting for,
an order?

Get stuck in there!

Damn, that'll sober
a man up quick.

When will people learn not
to fuck with the Ninth?

You know, some say it's
irregular for you to be seen

drinking with the men
of the Legion.

Septus, my old friend,
they forget

I am a man of the Legion.

Soldier, have you
been fighting?

Fighting is my job.

I have a message
for your general.

Now point me in his direction
before I have you flogged.

- Who are you?
- I'm the personal envoy of Governor Agricola.

Well, then I suggest you
get down off that horse

and give me your message
before I have you flogged!

General, sir, it would
be my pleasure!

All leave is canceled.
Agricola is mobilizing the Ninth.

We're going to war, Septus.

Alert the senior legates
to break camp and prepare the men.

Sir.

Sorry, General, sir.

Return to Agricola at once.
Tell him we rode out within the hour.

Yes, General.

Bastard!

Aeron...

Gorlacon...

he was a farmer until
his wife was killed.

Then he put down the plow
and took up the sword.

He changed the way
the Picts fought.

It worked.

He turned the tide.
So they made him king.

What does Agricola
intend for my people?

Damn you, Pict!

When will he send
his armies north?

I am a soldier of Rome!
I will not yield!

Ahhh!

Rome will make you
bleed for this.

You first, Centurion.

I don't care how you do it,
but wipe them out.

Bring Gorlacon
before me in chains.

Governor, you're the politician.
I'm just a simple soldier.

But I'm not so simple
that I can't see

you're looking
for a way back to Rome.

My bones ache for Rome.

This place is
the graveyard of ambition.

And men.

And I won't sacrifice mine
to be pawns in your game.

I see.

Let us be frank, General.

The conquest of Britain
is a lost cause.

With one bold stroke,
we could change all that.

With the Ninth Legion at your command,
we can crush this enemy.

You and your men
could retire

with wealth and honor.

My men have honor enough.

Enough to disobey
a direct order?

Well...

to kill the snake,
you have to cut off its head.

I need to find Gorlacon.

For that I have
someone special in mind.

Yahhh!

General Virilus,
meet Etain,

my Brigantes tracker.

Can't speak a word,
but she can hunt anything,

over any terrain.

I swear she's part wolf.

I apologize for the theatrics,
but I wanted to prove a point.

Slaves cost nothing.
Trust is priceless.

I don't know whether
to fight her or--

She's mute, not deaf.

I have my own scouts.

Not like her.
She knows the Picts--

knows their ways,
knows their hideaways.

She will guide you
into the mountains.

What's she sitting
over there for?

- She's been looking at you--
- I know she has!

I know she has.
I've spotted it.

Can't take her eyes off you.

Come on. Come on, you.

She's speechless,
you daft bastard.

She's got not tongue
in her head, you fool.

I wouldn't get too close.

No tongue?
That's perfect, you know!

- More room--
- Wouldn't go near her, mate.

- More room for this.
- You be careful.

Oh!

Ha ha ha ha!

I think that's Pict for "fuck off."

She must be a good scout
if she can find your cock.

I think it's love.

I'll have a go with the mutt this time.

Report.

Three Pict riders and another,
a prisoner, on foot.

- I think he might be Roman.
- Hyah!

Centurion Remus,
take the column!

Ahhh!

Stay down. Stay down.

Stay down.

We'll get nothing
out of him.

Well, we can't take prisoners on the march.
You know what to do.

- Head or ship?
- Head.

I win.

Sorry, mate.
Orders are orders.

Hey.

Thank the gods
you found me.

It's not the gods you
should thank, it's her--

Etain, our Pict scout.

She found you.

What's your name, soldier?

My name is Quintus Dias,

second in command,

Inch-tuth-il
frontier garrison.

Well, sorry we couldn't
get here sooner.

- Are you the relief column?
- Not quite.

I'm Titus Flavius Virilus,
commander of the Ninth Legion.

We've come here
looking for a fight.

And you'll get one.

- General.
- Centurion Dias.

Ha! Now you look
like a Roman.

- How do you feel?
- Cuts and bruises, sir--

nothing that won't
heal in time.

Well, sometimes there are
scars that cannot be seen.

You escaped
the clutches of Gorlacon,

but I must ask you to return
with us into the lion's den.

Best to get back into
the fight, General.

Spoken like a soldier.

Gladiator.

My father was Scipio Dias.

I saw him win the fight
that earned him his freedom.

He was magnificent.

He taught me how to fight
and to choose my battles.

Come meet the men.

- Septus?
- Sir.

General.

Get this man a drink.
I think he deserves it.

Come and join us.
Be warm.

- Have a well-earned drink.
- Thank you.

Tomorrow you ride
by my side.

I thought you could
teach me something about Pict hospitality.

- Thax. Bothos.
- Sir.

- Septus, I'll be doing my rounds.
- Sir.

Good evening, General.

I can't understand
a word of these Picts.

If they ever catch me, I'm fucked.

I've never seen a general
so beloved of his men.

Well, in training
he is our scholar;

at the feast
he is our father;

in the ranks
he is our brother;

and in battle, he is the god
we pray to save our souls.

- Where did you read that?
- It's written on the shithouse wall, sir.

Probably wrote it himself.

He's a ruthless,
reckless bastard.

And I'd die for him
without hesitation.

- It's a trap!
- Column!

Form up! Form up!

Quickly! Come on!

Dismount!
Get the horses to the rear!

Tight!

Quickly!

- Steady, boys.
- Shields!

Hyah!

Watching!

Whatever comes out of
that mist, lads,

you will hold the line.

Quintus, ride to the rear.

Find Centurion Remus;
tell him to pull the column back.

- Make a hole!
- Keep watching!

Yah!

Get ready!

Watching.

Hold the line!

Stand tall!

- Quintus.
- Bothos.

- You made it.
- Yeah. This man saved my life.

Brick, here.

- The general?
- No.

We've got to move.

- Can you make it?
- Yeah. Yeah.

Come on.

Let's get moving.

In the chaos of battle,

when the ground beneath
your feet is a slurry of blood,

puke, piss

and the entrails of friends
and enemies alike,

it's easy to turn to
the gods for salvation.

But it's soldiers
who do the fighting

and soldiers
who do the dying.

And the gods never
get their feet wet.

- Thax.
- Thank the gods some of us made it.

Only you?

Macros, second cohort.

Leonidas, junior scout
and peltast.

- Are we all that's left?
- We were outsmarted.

That's all.
Time to go home.

We need to find the general's body.

He deserves
a nobler tomb than this.

- The general is still alive.
- You sure?

I saw them take him
away in chains.

- Which way?
- North.

- Then we follow north.
- You would go after the Picts?

They'll have patrols sweeping
these forests for survivors.

We might as well slit
our own throats here.

If the general's alive,
it's our duty.

Yahhhhhh!

Where did you come from?

From the kitchens.

Good work, soldier.

My name's Tarak.

I'm not a soldier;
I'm a cook.

Not any more.

Food supplies, weapons.

Ditch your armor.
We'll travel light.

Shit.
That Macros can move.

He used to be a marathon runner
before he joined up.

How do you know that?

I made the food;
I know everything.

Ow!

Take cover.

Ahhh!

I knew we should never
have trusted that bitch.

I know where
they've taken the general.

Move out!

This way-- the cave.

Get up those mountains.
Get up.

Here, some food.

No.
Death caps.

They can kill you
in minutes.

To the untrained eye,
they look similar to these,

which are delicious.

Thanks.

Tarak.
It's Assyrian, right?

Yes.

But it's not my real name.
It was given to me.

- What's your real name?
- I doubt you could pronounce it.

It's from the mountains of
the Hindu Kush where I was born.

Leonidas, right?

- Greek father, sir.
- Move closer to the fire.

- Where are you from, Bothos?
- I'm from the army.

It's all I've ever known.

They picked me up
from the street, trained me,

told me I could better myself.

Tell me, Bothos,
do you feel better

or worse?

Macros?

I escaped with my life
by running from Numidia.

Didn't stop until
I reached Greece.

Then I ran for sport.

Now I'm running
for my life again.

We're all a long way
from home.

This was supposed to be
my last tour.

Still could be.

Had my eye on a farm
in Tuscany,

where the sun
warms the skin.

Brick?

What kind of name
is that anyway?

Short, sir, for Ubrickulius.

Your mother must
have been wise.

She was a fuckin' comedian.

Brick it is then.

Get some sleep.

I'll stand first watch.

- General.
- Where are my men?

With your gods.

Traitor!

She would answer your charge,
but she cannot speak.

Do you know why?

She was a child when she
came to us seeking sanctuary.

Her own village had
been slaughtered

as punishment for
resisting Roman rule.

To set an example,
they burned out her father's eyes.

They raped her mother until
she was begging to die.

Etain was forced to watch

before she too was raped.

And finally they cut out
her tongue

that she may not speak ill
of the bloody Roman Empire.

She fled north and
came to us for shelter.

We raised her and made her
one of our own.

And when she came of age,
we sent her back to you

to feign allegiance and
deliver you into our hands.

The army is still dispersed.

When it's dark,
we go in.

Come.

Pict dog.

Come on. Come on.

Brick, Bothos with me.

The rest of you watch
the perimeter.

- General.
- The Legion?

Only myself and a small
cohort remain.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, shit.

Leave me.

- Come here. Come here.
- No!

Shh!

Shut up.

- Shit. We need an axe!
- Leave!

We will not
abandon you, sir.

What's left of the legion
is yours to command.

Now go.

We have to leave.

Go now!

Get them home.

That's for the Ninth.

Where's Thax?

Had to take care
of a small problem.

I've got the general's helmet.
Where is he?

- We couldn't free him.
- You-- you--

Come on.

We've come all this way
for nothing.

Fuck.

See what you have done?

Before you die,

know that the men who did this will not
live to tell your tale.

Well, let's get on
with it then.

Your Roman friends should
have known,

old iron does not bend;
it breaks.

Well, what are you waiting for?
Do you fear me?

No man brave enough?

Ahh.

Let's see what
you're made of, she-wolf!

Ahhh!

Go!

Come on. We need to keep moving

- while we have the lead.
- On foot over this?

Wherever they may hesitate,
we must go.

We keep moving... north.

But our lines are
to the south.

And that's where they'll
be looking for us.

Look, we can't outrun them

so we have to outsmart them.

We head north, throw them off our trail,
then double back--

west then south.

It may take days,
even weeks.

But we're so far behind
enemy lines,

it's our only chance
of getting home.

Come on!

You'll be needing this
then, Centurion.

When the Picts come after you,
they never stop.

They can run for hours,
ride for days.

They barely eat
and rarely sleep.

Etain, like the wolf,
has learned to hunt from birth.

It is part sense,
part instinct.

She can read the terrain,
search for signs of passing,

run her quarry to ground
and close in for the kill.

Now she hunts Romans.

Now we are the prey.

Move! Keep moving!

Oh God!

Leo, we've got to
keep moving!

- No, we need to rest.
- I can't go on. I'm too cold.

Come, take him!

Brick, find shelter--
anywhere out of this wind!

Enough. Help me!

He's slowing us down.
Just say the word

and I'll take care of it.

We live united
or die divided...

starting with you.

You can stick this out
if you want,

but first chance I get,
I'm taking care of myself.

It's your funeral.

When they paint their faces in the blue woad,

it is more than just
a decoration;

it is a sacred rite.

To the Picts, it means
they'd sooner die

than fail.

It means for them
there is no turning back.

These men are the best
I've ever seen.

Am I worthy enough
to lead them?

My father taught me
that in life

duty and honor matter
above all things.

A man without his word

is no better than a beast.

I made a promise
to a general

to get his soldiers home.

That is my task.

That is my duty.

Hyah!

Not bad for a Greek.
Come on.

Drink while it's hot.

- What is that?
- The stomach.

The moss inside
is half digested.

Oh!

Try it. It's good.

Ahh! Ooh!

Quintus? Quintus, they'll have
heard him from miles away.

What's wrong?

Move!

Move! Move!

This way!

Move!

Come on, let's go!

Come on, get up!

- Just leave him!
- Come on!

They're closing in!

Hurry! Come on!

They're coming!

- They're closing!
- Come on!

Hurry!

Come on!
Give me your hand!

No!

Shit.

We have to jump.

- Are you out of your mind?
- Do it!

Fuck it.

Yaaah!

- I can't.
- Yes, you can!

You can do it!

No! Tarak!

Come.

You okay?

Come on! Come on up!
Come.

Grab him!
Grab him!

I've got him.

Where's Tarak?

I lost him.

Thax? Macros?

Let's get out.

Oh God!

Oh! Oh!

Take off the tunics.
They'll weigh us down.

Oh, shit.

- Can you walk?
- Yeah.

Then you can run.

They followed us
downstream.

That's it.

Keep going.

Shit.

- She's on to us.
- Damn witch.

How can she do that?

It's not magic;
she's a tracker.

She's downwind of us.

- What's happening?
- They're making camp across the valley.

They don't care if
we know where they are.

Yeah, but she won't
expect us.

Bothos, watch over Leo.

- What are you gonna do?
- Going to even the odds.

Come on.

Okay. Come on.

Haaaa!

Kill him and be done with it.

Ahhh!

No!

Ahh!

No.

They took his fuckin' head.

- Bothos!
- They had the same idea as you.

They're not defending
their lives or their country any more.

They've sworn
a blood vengeance against us.

Ahhhh! God!

And they won't rest...

until we beg them...

for death.

Are you ready to get on
your knees and beg?

I'm finished.
It's hopeless.

Hopeless?

Hopeless is what they
sing songs about,

write poems about.

Hopeless is the stuff
of legend, Bothos.

And being a legend
will get you laid.

What do I have to do?

Keep moving while we still
have darkness on our side.

The gods have forsaken us.

We make our
own chances now.

Ahh!

Macros? Macros?

I can't-- I can't keep up.

I can't keep up.

Ahhh! Ahh!

Macros, at least this way
one of us will make it.

- You bastard!
- Don't cry out. Don't cry out, Macros.

They'll end it quicker
if you don't cry out.

Don't leave me!

Thax!

Come on!

We should give this place
a wide berth.

We need food...

and a place to rest.

Where the hell are we now?

I'll get some water.

- Stay alert.
- Yeah.

- Oh!
- Whoa whoa whoa!

Brick, go back inside.

Go back inside now!

I'll leave you to it then.

You speak my language.

Are you from the garrison?

I thought you stopped
coming up this far north.

Garrison?
What garrison?

- Two days south of here.
- They come here?

How do you think I know
your language?

I do what I can
to discourage them.

They think I'm a necromancer

and they leave me alone.

It usually works on the others.

Why not you?

We're too tired to be afraid.

We were 3,000.
Now we are three.

Here.

Brick, put the fucking knife down.

Bothos, there's a Roman
garrison two days from here.

It must be the Western
Frontier Post at Mentieth.

Two days?

Let's take a look
at your friend.

Quintus, what's she doing?

She's a Pict and a woman--

two good reasons not to trust her.

Ahh!

Right, that'll stop the bleeding.

Death caps.

Smells good.

Well, how's your leg?

Has our witch
worked her magic?

- Quintus, the mushrooms.
- What?

She's trying to poison us.

Why heal your leg
only to kill you?

Death caps have white gills.

It pays to know
your mushrooms.

Good.

It's really good.

It's delicious.

It's good.

Your men are very nervous.

They ought to be.

A demon stalks us
day and night.

A demon?

They call her Etain.
You know her?

If Etain is hunting you,

you might as well
be dead already.

That's comforting.

Her soul is an empty vessel.

Only Roman blood can fill it.

Ahhh!

Where's Arianne?

She went to fetch us
some breakfast.

Are you okay?

Is that for bait?

Where I come from
it's considered rude

to interrupt a man midflow.

Where I come from
it's considered only fair

to warn a man when he's
pissing on his breakfast.

Good point!

Must have been a storm
in the hills last night.

Come on!

- Trouble.
- Let's get out of here.

Bothos.

Too late for that.

Hide in the grain store
and don't make a sound.

We've put you in too much danger.
We'll leave.

Leave now and she'll have you gutted
and skinned before nightfall.

Stay until morning
and your friend will be fit to travel.

These are your people.

They are not my people.

Not since Gorlacon accused me of witchery
and gave me this...

to mark me as an outcast...

and banish me to live out
my days here alone.

What cruel devices does fate
yet have in store for us...

to find sanctuary in
the house of our enemy?

Is she angel...

or devil?

- Clear.
- All right.

Get some rest.

I'm a cantankerous
old soldier,

but not too stubborn
to admit when I'm wrong.

I'm sorry I misjudged you.

There it is.

Ah!

It's getting cold.

Thank you.

You've given us
the shelter of your home,

the warmth of your fire,

and risked your life for us.

Why?

I owe allegiance to no man
but whom I choose.

Here's some food
for the journey.

Thank you.

Good luck, Roman.

Good luck, witch.

Go!

Bothos, get up! Come on!

My leg! Ahh!

Look! Look!
See the fires burning?

Look. Hot food
and a dry bed. Come on.

Agricola has fallen back.

Emperor Hadrian has
given orders

to form a new defensive
line to the south.

Giving up the ground
we fought for.

And where does that leave us?

Fucked.

How does she do that?

I don't know about you,
but I'm tired of running.

This is all I could find.

Make them count.

- For Virilus.
- For the Ninth.

- Bothos, they're flanking us.
- West wall!

Brick!

Come on!

How much further, do you think?

Don't know.
Day's ride; maybe two.

That's close enough, Thax.

Oh, shit.

I thought you were Picts.

We thought you were dead.

Oh!

Where's Macros?

Wolves got him.

This is it?
Are we all that's left?

Ay! At least the three
of us made it then, eh?

Come on!

- We're not home yet.
- What are you talking about?

We should be at
the frontier by now.

No. Agricola's been given
his marching orders.

So Rome's finally given up

on this shithole of
a country, eh?

Can't say that I'm sorry.

Then we fought for nothing.

What happened with
the boy, Thax?

I have no idea what
you're talking about.

This is Hadrian's big
fucking plan? A wall?

Hey, who cares?
We made it, huh?

- Let's go! Ha!
- Bothos, wait.

Slow down, Centurion.

Thax, what are you doing?

Just making sure that
we understand each other.

I understand that many good men
died because of what you did.

And you will answer for it.

Oh, why did I just know
you were going to feel that way?

Hey!

Bothos!

Hey! Whoo!

This report confirms our worst fears.

You fought your war, soldier,

and earned
the gratitude of Rome.

This man will show you to
my private quarters.

He will see you fed.

You look half-starved.

We cannot return to Rome in disgrace.

Better that the fate of
the Legion remain a mystery

than the truth of
their failure be known.

If word gets out,
every tribe in every nation

- will rise against us.
- It's too great a risk.

Are we agreed, then?

The fate of the Ninth Legion
will be struck from the record.

Aye.

I hope the food
is to your liking.

I brought you some wine.

It is the least we
can do for a hero of Rome.

- Ahh!
- Ahhh!

Is this how Rome
honors her heroes?

You want to bury the truth

and me along with it?

You are too much of a risk.

Where will you go?

Where I belong.

No!

It seems my life is
in your hands again, witch.

My name is Quintus Dias.

I'm a fugitive of Rome.

And this is neither
the beginning

nor the end of my story.