All language subtitles for Spartacus House of Ashur S01E04 BLOOD AND BONE 1080p AMZN WEB-DL DDP5 1 H 264-NTb

No, Dominic.

It swells hot to see you stir from
chambers.

Sirian. With the gods favoring you
towards the arena, you shall face three.

The brothers Ferox, vicious half -men.

Dominus has tainted it by positioning
women for the arena.

Cease fate as champion of this fucking
house.

Brother Tverox may be twisted in form,
yet stand fierce opponents, capable of

sending any man or woman into the
afterlife.

Send the cunts of grass and be done with
it.

No distraction.

Pulling attention and blessing Satyrus
with open attack.

Good.

Now press advantage.

You assume proper place for weakened
animal.

Is it intent to lay and repose on
mourning or prove worthy of the mark of

brotherhood you now bear?

And rise to fucking occasion.

Dominic, a message arrives from Crassus.

Prepare for honored arrival.

That is the sum of it?

It stands all received.

When?

When will Crassus bless us with fucking
presents?

We do not know.

Question was not posed, expecting
fucking reply.

Seafloor polished reflection.

Fill pool with water, fresh and clear.

Matthew will attend to menial duties.

Go.

You must present finest wines and exotic
meats.

Have me prepared to move the god himself
to salvation.

For this day.

Every fucking day until Crassus
materializes, our coffer ends fucking

We cannot bear such expense beyond the
extent.

You break words towards any beyond
fucking calamity.

Apologies.

Sentiment deserved to be broken from my
tongue alone.

Ah, Jupiter's fate!

We stand ill -timed for Crassus' absent
position in approaching games.

How do labors progress in such regard?

Vaxing at fucking best.

Gavinius stands maker of decision, yet
his bitch, Cassutia, growls and froths

like Cerberus at the gate denying entry.

What of Arbiter?

Chorus lays infirm.

Unable to ply the man with honey word
towards cause.

Even if so swayed, I fear Cassutia will
hold fast in hateful resolution.

A concern well shared.

Yet something fucking must move the
woman.

You know, a man possesses admirable
talent beyond fans of

the arena.

His enthusiasm but rises to the occasion
of your beauty.

More wine?

I would pause a moment.

Gratitude.

Leave us.

A boyish aged husband possessed such
artful tongue.

Beyond a ration in the senate.

How fares good Cobenius?

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... Solution threat to ports and
goods. More pressing.

We stand well removed from waters of the
Terranian and fucking plunderers upon

its waves.

And yet bodies have been found in our
very streets.

Perhaps fallen to solution blades.

Bodies? Six.

Discovered in wake of storm.

Among them, the brute Phides.

An unpleasant specimen favoured by
Troculus.

Throat slit as gutted fish.

I did not know the man.

Perhaps he felt a misadventure of his
own construction.

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 solution
shits.

preying upon our merchant ships.

Word upon breeze has caressed here of
the finest Egyptian linens arriving

tomorrow at Gatescloth to be received by
the trade of Spirius.

Egyptian?

Are you certain?

A sun breaking dawn each day.

Gratitude. A four -timely consideration.

Are we not friends?

Well, I would see mountains reformed
towards shared interests.

I would not ask such Herculean effort.

Yet, there is one favour I would humbly
entreat. Give it voice and see it well

received. Thoughts turn towards games of
Ludia Poloneri's Noble Husband

Presents. Place wind and ease. Your men
shall hold position in them. Honoured,

as always.

Yet I broke subject not for myself, but
for the House of Asher.

You petition for the fucking Syrian?

By tenuous association only.

I speak toward a worthy figure of his,
Dr. Hawley.

Chorus.

Deserving of the presentation of his
labors.

What's turned 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.

In what regard?

Rumour vibrates that the Syrian's man
has suffered grievous injury.

Injury? Does he yet live?

Fuck the gods!

We at last come to common ground upon
subject.

How does he fare?

You not see me fucking rise before you?

The spirit's inflamed, although weak of
flesh.

I hear your breath, and the rest shall
follow shortly.

News to Hardencock, as what I break
shall in return.

Crassus has word of impending arrival.

Crassus, one more hour.

Enigma yet to be revealed.

I've always thought that he would stand
towards Harrow's conspiring to present a

woman in the arena. As long as it
harrows adulations from the crowd and

fucking palm.

Crassus shall seem delighted.

We will then turn favorable humor
towards advantage and press the man to

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.

Help. Then the need of food and wine.

And cleansing waters to remove
stanchions. Narrowly averted death.

I have saved men upon rents 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 officer.

You grace us with unexpected presence.

Gratitude sends an order for your
generous gift of grain. Oh, give it.

all.

Apologies for appearing in advance of
proper warning.

News only just reached here 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.

Atom of pride.

Apologies. I would offer wine and midday
repast, yet pressing concerns pulls me

to market.

I shall take my leave then. Oh!

though remain.

Of course, sister, the bath is so
troubled wounds.

Concern will be put from Thawne knowing
the weight of his suffering is lifted by

caring hands.

Your presence would lend comfort.

Are you often invited into the Sulean's
bath?

There has been none to happen upon
occasion.

I'm not aware he possessed such
appetite.

His desires do not extend towards his
fucking dottore, nor mine towards his.

You do not fave on one of such rich
complexion? The tone of a man's skin

meaningless.

When cut, the colour holds equal for
all.

Far 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.

It's a rare privilege for only a mortal
to touch the heavens.

I don't use her roughly.

An old acquaintance who took issue with
recent conversation.

Does the villain carry a name?

Fridays.

He fell upon me with a clutch of men.

Their lives claimed for the offence, yet
the man himself fluttered to the winds.

And swiftly plummeted, never to spread
wings again.

Fridays no longer draws breath.

Difficulty with throat slit?

Wounds not inflicted by my hands.

Then whose?

He was known to have dealings with
proculents.

A thing I'm certainly well aware of.

I've witnessed that.

I mentioned to Cassutia this very day.

Troubles me to see flesh so marred by
basements of bricks.

I would see wounds visited tenfold upon
Proculus's men in the arena.

Twice in as many visits you have
mentioned desire to see yourself in the

Is that your only desire in holding my
company?

I am doctor of this house.

Glory in the arena consumes fucking
mind. As well as that of the Syrian.

One would assume.

It's a thing of no matter.

We must all play our part in this game
of men and their ambitions.

Words to be acclaimed upon.

Place worried thought aside.

I have brought subject with Cassutia and
will revisit upon soonest opportunity.

Gratitude towards effort.

Whatever such be your need.

Next time you find yourself in need,

our lips and

I shall storm Olympus to see you
satisfied.

Valiant purpose source in your presence.

He's just a yet in service of the city.

He stands far from fucking thought.

I fear they threaten to exceed weight of
purse.

Added to what stands already but. You
would see Crassus presented with Finn's

fucking offering. I would see him well
attended.

Short of coffers emptied in a tent.

You fret beyond reason.

Yet not beyond purpose.

As Villica, am I not charged with the
accounts of your house?

Do you stand so?

An eye, but a factor of such attentive
counsel.

In honor of the approaching games of the
loony Apollonaries, I again invite any

Roman to step forth and test worth
against the House of Proculus.

The House of Asher would see challenge
accepted.

Upon the sands of the arena.

You stand absent, giant shadow.

Where lurks your mighty doktore?

Trainer of those who fall against better
fucking men.

I thought it courtesy he not eclipsed
into your children's spills from

wounds.

We spill the wine and the blood of shit
and piss you deem fucking champion.

Victory well earned, even for half men.

Let us see Contessor visited against the
newest offering from the House of

Aster.

A sight of wonder and awe, never before
witnessed upon the sands of the arena.

Let this Syrian move, good Gabinius, to
secure a position in the games.

And then behold, the brothers fair up as
again they send his champion to deserve

an end.

dare stand before us.

Awesome words from such little fucking
man.

Perhaps.

Brother Balbus shows us the way.

Let us honor the Syrian with gifts of
food to feed malnourished men beneath

fucking oath.

It stands fucking so. I witnessed a
woman graced with cum and cock one atop

another.

So did you fuck her?

Or she you?

Shits would have a more flavored taste.

Cook offer anything beyond fucking
porridge?

Houses of higher esteem have been non
-percept meat.

The gods fuck us then.

Putting a deep familiarity beneath this
room.

You stand not afraid?

To what?

Breaking meal with someone so hated.

They report to Distemper in response to
your promise to station this champion.

Absent time and effort, they claim their
own.

I bear the mark of the fucking
Brotherhood.

As they do.

Yet not as they had it.

Are they not of my choosing?

We all set upon rightful path.

Four placed upon succession, one
following another.

You fall to the theater only to break
words absent meaning.

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 Miller was Andrews de Games
next presented, you shall face equal

number in the arena.

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 might.

The men.

That you face here stand absent such
purpose.

They appear single in mind, fucking
wise.

Yet one person's attack absent thought
of those who would aid him in such

regard. You fight but single opponent.

Your best aim and the odds will quickly
fall.

You speak of your son.

No,

I speak of a gladiator.

Consumed by hubris with a thirst for
glory.

A thing to be tempted if he is to
survive in the arena.

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 produce nothing but

excuses and disappointment.

And know this.

Toil and task full from effort of your
dominance shall see this house the

deserving position in the fucking games.

And upon such day, you shall claim
victory against the house of Proculus.

I will see you all to the fucking
lights!

Marketplace appears to disagree with
you. Great good works towards the mind

Operator, so I may ram them Apocalypse's
ass.

The man seems moved to eat us. And I'll
gauge your measure's success upon

venture. Operator has proved
unexpectedly persuasive.

After all these years of blood and
sacrifice, cloning the precipice of on

position,

Only to stake future upon man so slight
a fucking note. Such specters often move

where men of more solid form cannot.

What do eyes behold?

A chamber embracing for weight.

It was not always so.

Here once stood the champions of the
House of Batiatus.

This Asian cock captured in stone.

Canicus Quixus.

The mad Thracian Spartacus.

Gods of the arena.

Gods of the arena.

My former Dominus schemed his way from
beneath mountains of shit to seize

victory.

upon their backs.

And here stands Azer.

Gather his better clutching air for
threat of fucking possibility.

Then let us weave it into tapestry of
victory and show this fucking city that

tower above all others.

Dominus.

Apologies. Another message has been
dispatched from Crassus.

Oh, let's clarify hour of day of
arrival.

Not a person, but a baggage.

Ha!

He sends possessions in advance and
commands me as beast of fucking

upon beddings of moral son.

Labor's more befitting a slave.

As I yet stand in his...

Fucking eyes.

A notion to be stricken if we defy odds
and see Achillea to victory.

I shall reclaim Mantle Bottle for you.
No.

Your absence was gravely noted at the
Albany by that shit Proculus. I would

you fall to my side and remain so at
ease in event of future provocation.

You are well.

My fucking hands.

Well, she will find bits her embrace
within my arms.

Tarkon.

Theseus. Arathel. Take position.

Achillea!

I will mourn your death at the little
hands of Satyrus and his brothers.

See title of champion.

Call to more deserving name.

Focus effort.

And you recall words broken between us.

The weakened animal.

Good.

Instruction towards victory at last
finds purchase.

Fucking woman locks herself.

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 his rightful place.

All could hold truth, yet none negate
poor Sully against Achillea. Herato and

Ophesius should have bested her. Yes,
perhaps they would have. Had you not

foolishly pressed your own advantage?

A thought oft repeated.

One of those are the fucking words you
broke with her over yesterday's meal.

to defeat your fucking son.

In. Chorus's absence.

I stand, Doctore.

And word said reflected such.

You place her victory above mine.

I place the victory of this fucking
house over all

concerns.

Well,

does it stand so tenuous a bond?

You are my son.

I would see you rise above all of us.

And I will honor you.

And my time comes in the arena.

First, you warn herself with thoughtful
strategy.

I fight as I was taught by my father.

may you find more willing students in
the fucking Nubian. No, son.

Can't you lash out absent thought of
consequence?

And yet you froth over how a woman
bested you.

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.

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'm 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.

Well, I thank thee.

God, if it is so, I would have you
return to the happy child that so

this house and world beyond.

And if it holds nothing but shadow? We
cannot hold setting of the sun yet.

Perhaps together we may ignite torch to
guide our way from darkness.

I promised father a game of
Latrunculite.

Came shall greet you upon return.

The operator whispers that Spurious the
trader receives Egyptian linen.

How I would see us draped in finery's
befitting mother and radiant

daughter.

The letters to market.

The sun threatens to bake senses to
oblivion.

Should we pause and fall to shape?

I find it comforting upon skin.

It lifts heart to see you resurrected
among the living, Viridia.

Oh, look.

Tarsus, Grace's present.

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.

There stood no love between them.

Only advantage of marriage,
strengthening respect of families.

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.

This charge upon him, absent concern to
his obligation, claimed my own.

Crassus yanks his leash and expects
obedient Cur to fall to fucking heel.

Does voice offend, or do thoughts wander
astray from fucking consideration?

They care not for eyes upon us.

Let us attend, demand an undertaking,
and return to Villa.

Perhaps some fucking incident.

Is this the thumb of it?

Or does the man seek to transport all of
fucking Rome as well?

What eyes lay upon us, all I have been
charged to deliver.

Then our business conclude, fall from
fucking sight.

I will see us removed from the street in
advance of encroaching night.

Do 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.

And, uh, what is the sum? 30 denarii.

30 denarii.

First, stand 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 course.

At your leisure, then.

Curses stand for just man and fucking
republic.

Yet it falls upon this house to see debt
paid.

How, behold, the man became so swollen
with wealth by shrewdly using the coin

others in place of his own.

A thing to aspire to.

Pay mine towards footing.

Injury to valued burden will be visited
tenfold.

Upon those accountable.

Retrieve more water.

I would see fulfilled before Dominus
returns.

Or bravely humor so often unleashed.

His nude 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.

Messiah, what would you have me do?

I cannot return feelings I do not hold.

I wish to the gods I could reverse them
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.

Your attention wanders, brother. Towards
vexing cause.

You take well to style, I've dined the
carers.

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 breach you
next we meet.

Strategy counseled by one more
experienced.

It is a heavy thing, living beneath the
shadow of noble father.

I live in no man's shadow.

Only a woman's then?

Upon a day, Nibian.

Upon a fucking day.

Officious!

Let us fall to proper fucking contest!

Oh,

hey to you.

A gift from the gods. I've never felt a
sequel.

I have yet more to offer one soul.
You're going to rush in the finest stola

city has ever felt.

In anticipation of your father's games,
sir.

The games?

Entering the pole when it's dressed in
such finery shall precipitate absolute

riot. I will not be in attendance.

Your father expects it, sir.

A desire I've not heard expressed from
his lips. You must come, Viridia.

You have been too long removed from eyes
of adoring...

Come a thousand such wounds.

If earning of them.

Yet so you grace this world.

Lord, I have you fall from it.

Of my life, of course.

Had Asher and his men not chanced upon
us...

Asher.

Silesians.

We must return into your villa.

Pirates!

Here within city walls.

So far removed from fucking sea.

Negro bold, absent proper response from
Rome.

Oh, thank the gods.

You did not fall to rancorous harm.

They held no divinity in it.

Asher and his man delivered us from
untimely fate.

Who would that Heratius did us what to
do?

The Aedile's wife.

Slain.

In the streets.

Whilst sun yet graced the fucking sky.
Wife and daughter stood apparent bounty

sought. There was ransom.

One will 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.

And gratefully received.

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.

Fall to the baths.

I would break words with the Syrian in
private.

We 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 as 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

salacious cutthroats. Perhaps loss of
untold men in failed attempt may give

pause.

Or they shall see efforts redoubled at
expense heart can ill afford.

You must remain vigilant against such
possibility.

Beloved daughter broke words carrying
truth.

Gratitude is owed.

as is reward rising to level of deed.

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

entry to approaching games of the ludia
pollinaris.

Thoughts? Occasionally turn upon
subjects.

And see to the churning of them I shall
see you well positioned.

I... I do not possess for it.

Do not misconceive intent.

I but erase debt.

One I would not see plied against me
upon inconvenient moment.

Then we stand balanced in all regards.

Come, I shall have my medicus attend
your wounds. A burden I will not oppose.

own shall seat on concerning wounds. I
assure you mine stands a greater skill.

Of that I hold no question.

Yet I prefer not to stand in your debt.

You learn quickly, Syrian.

Very well.

Let us part ways equally untethered.

You left Dominus at Echepinius' villa to
return alone?

Asher proves himself capable.

Those who underestimate him do so at
their own fucking peril.

I will still see guards dispatched.
Please concern the site.

The man himself appears.

Dominus!

Fetch the medicus, quickly!

Oh, fuck medicus!

I will bathe hard -fought wound in a
river of farting wine.

Gabinius breaks words towards such a
late admit?

He breaks words that shall elevate this
house.

We stand blessed with position in this
fucking gate.

And you, you fucking titan,

your part in this shall not soon fall to
this cottage remembrance.

Wine. Where's the fucking wine? How did
you approach subject with Gabinius? A

thing not required. He offered
unprompted reward towards rescue,

and daughter.

And you maneuvered such towards
advantage in the arena.

I maneuvered nothing.

Some strength to leave from mouth at the
thought, but heart held it fast in

place. Veridia's life spared such reward
enough to consume all desire.

The gods.

I hold no faith in favored, humble
Asher.

And you as well, with unwanted task now
removed.

Task?

Lowering yourself to imagine affection
to gain opener'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 loot is a
formation.

Let us present glorious news.

A fucking ascension!

You expect burning days to set her
aflame?

If I were so fortunate, surely my father
would rush to extinguish blaze.

This house has given rise to story
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 loody Apollonaries!

And who shall grace the sands, Dominus?

Tarkon, Holtan.

The boys overcome by visions of glory.

Positions and placement have yet to be
broached.

Yet know this.

We shall see the brothers Ferox to
fucking grass for offense presented by

shit broccolins.

By the hand of the goddess of fucking
death.

Fall to your beds and gather strength
for coming days.

I will announce those among you who are
for the arena. No, Minos.

Procession has been spotted up on the
road towards Vela.

Our patron Crassus at last arrives.

Let him stand at all.

The fearsome offering of the house of
fucking Asher.

Artorias, fall to my side and let us
greet destiny with worthy embrace.

The ropes follow matter pleasing to eye.

We intend to welcome the man and present
your ass for his pleasure.

His wagon drives.

Trading backs.

She owned pleasant disposition, yet cast
gaze downwards to avoid catching eye.

Three steps linger in a pace.

Mighty Crassus, you honor us with your
noble presence.

You mistake me, Therion.

Caesar.