All language subtitles for Spartacus S03E07

I begin to believe in your gods.

I ordered them to stand
ground but they fled.

What punishment would
you have me inflict?

He took something from me.

And I would have
something in return.

If errant word
falls from mouth,

only suffering will follow.

Come, my love.

She stands a Roman.

I stand nothing but a slave.

You will regain sense.

It is you who has no sense.

Donar!

Fucking traitor.

Have you lost mind?

Castus came to aid!

We must see all that remain
to safety of the ridge.

Move quickly!

And do not turn back!

Spartacus!

Spartacus is no fool.

You expect him to wait
in driven snow

for you to arrive
and announce his end?

That is exactly what I expect.

Give count to those
who have fallen!

I would have number!

The gods march us halfway
to fucking Olympus,

only to piss on us
from atop a wall.

We must make new attempt!

One where we do not creep in silence,

but march with thunder to shake
the heavens.

You would see all the encamped
storm the wall?

To the last woman and child!
And see it to ruin!

We cannot risk further assault.

Crassus has turned us from roaming
wolves into herded sheep.

And you would bare neck for
slaughter, in foolish action?

I but seek path from this fucking ridge.

Spartacus.

Crassus' army approaches
from the mountain pass.

Move all those who cannot
fight to safe distance.

See the others to weapons.

We will show the man
forged of gold

the cost of our lives.

We shall see Roman
blood upon fucking snow!

Or our own in glorious death!

Hold!

Calm yourselves!

Your words move
against purpose.

We must press attack,

before his army washes over us.

They do not intend to advance.

The gods hold you privy
to the future now, do they?

I am but familiar
with unfortunate past.

I served in the Roman auxiliary

when I was yet of Thrace.

Crassus' men did not
fall to battle formation.

But they hold
advantage of numbers.

Why pause short of blood?

They but await their commander.

The legion takes position
upon the ridge?

With your Praetorium
to be set at forward position,

as commanded.

Break urgent word
when it's prepared.

I would lay eyes upon war's end

at nearest opportunity.

Imperator.

I have been delayed from
appointed hour by pressing need.

Apologies.

None expected.

I'm sure there's much needed
of you, upon cusp of victory.

How fares Caesar?

He yet licks his wounds.

Or rather drops coin
for more pleasing form

to apply balming tongue.

Gratitude for seeing
duties to completion,

and not falling prey
to baser desires of your own.

A man must choose proper
moment to seize pleasure.

Mine is forever
entwined with your own.

I stand moved by sentiment.

As I do by the way you've
afforded yourself of late.

You honor me, Imperator.

You honor yourself
in deed and action.

I would see such spirit
greet newest command.

Speak it, and see it done.

I wish this chest
spirited from sight.

A simple task,
yet one of grave importance.

Where shall I place it?

Crack seal,
and make own decision.

My armor...

The hour rushes
to Spartacus' end.

I would have my word
and my will once more at my side

upon final battle.

I would have my son.

As I would stand with you.

Father.

See yourself to proper dress.

There is much of our future
to turn upon discussion.

You prove yourself yet mortal.

A scratch, all but forgotten.

I will see to fresh bandage.

Wine and the warmth
of your thighs

is all comfort needed.

Blood shall wait
upon the day I draw it

from those who have
dared move against me.

And they shall
tremble with fear...

as I now tremble
before Jupiter's cock...

Vacate!

Quick as you can!

A storm is coming.

And with it death
upon frozen wind.

Storm certain, yes.

Yet not its hour...

You would move to fuck,

with Rome's might
breathing upon our necks?

If I for afterlife,

I take memory
of your cock inside me.

Let us turn thought
from ourselves,

and see them
towards deeper needs.

Your words sound as Spartacus.

They are my own.

Heed them as you will.

You traitorous fuck!

Donar, Nemetes
and hundreds of our brothers

lay dead in the city.

Yet you take fucking meal!

Gratitude.

Your stew was turning stomach.

Fucking Cilician shit!

Brictius!

Fall from fucking sight.

If you were not Agron's boy,

you would stand as bloodied
for shielding this little cunt.

Place Agron from thought,

if you believe
your cock of a size.

For such a little man
you speak as if a Titan.

Do not move me
to regret coming to aid.

Brictius is a dim brute,

but his tongue
carries knowledge.

I stand a Cilician,

and by tether
of name a traitor.

None should be
darkened by shadow

of another's actions.

A thing of no importance.

I find myself where
the fates have led.

And call it blessing
to find you there as well.

In chains and bloodied,

yet still attempting to flatter.

I attempt but to live life
to the fullest measure.

And would take arms
against Crassus

to continue doing so.

You wish to fight?

Killing Romans was how
I gained your trust,

was it not?

Perhaps if enough
fall to my blade,

your brothers shall
one day be so moved...

It is a decision
removed from my hands.

But know that thought
is well received.

I did not think
to lay eyes upon you again.

Nor I you.

The gods mock us both.

News has reached air of your
bravery within the city.

Risking life to save two of my own?

I stood absent choice.

Position known well of late.

You are still of this world.

And you shall slip from it
if you do not eat.

See it to one more deserving.

Do you seek to be pitied?

I seek nothing.

I am but ash.

The remains of heart's flame,

cooled by the bringer of rain,

who brought death to my city

and tore me from
the life I knew.

Smothered by Crassus,

who cast me off in chains
for the pleasure of a savage.

You have known pain.

And loss.

A misfortune shared
by many among us.

How do you move past it?

That's a question
I've asked many times.

Live.

And help provide answer.

Caesar favored oysters
in his celebration.

I would have the finest city
has to offer towards my own.

Your father graces
you again with favor.

A thing well earned.

I no longer stand the "pouting boy"
of days past.

The man my father has always
longed for me to become.

I but wish Sabinus
were yet among us.

Do you think he would
gaze upon me with pride?

He held you to heart,
did he not?

As you once did.

Your path carries
you from such concerns.

Spartacus shall fall,

and you shall rise
to conquer foreign lands,

and build upon your name.

Far from those who
once cared for you.

I yearn to honor
the name of Crassus

with victory and laurels.

Yet after rebellion is struck
I shall remain rooted firmly

upon current ground.

You are not to return
to Rome with us?

I will be tasked with securing

my father's concerns
within Sinuessa,

until I reach proper age
for title of tribune.

A duty of great import.

One you shall aid me in.

I am to remain in Sinuessa?

Within this very villa.

My father grants
you title of Vilica

to oversee all who serve me
beneath storied roof.

And to see comforting hand

continue to guide me
in life's journey.

One that drew me from
edge of dire precipice.

I owe you much, Kore.

And soon I'll have the leisure
of time to indulge repayment.

Imperator.

Your Praetorium stands
ready upon the ridge.

Call for my standard bearer.

Imperator.

Apologies, Dominus.

I have prepared
afternoon meal --

I have appetite
towards bloodier repast.

Again, apologies.

Yet I would also
break needed words.

Well, shatter them quickly,

or see them to ground
I once stood upon.

Is it true I am to serve
Tiberius in Sinuessa?

By his tongue did
news fall upon ear?

The boy carries my word yet
spills it absent consideration.

I had meant to share
thought with you

in more intimate fashion.

As I would share
with you troubled mind,

and cause of it --

All stands upon command,
Imperator.

Time conspires against
will of the heart.

We shall break words
again when battle is won,

will see tears evaporate
beneath warming sun

of deeper intent.

Come, let us make show
of presence upon ridge.

I'd have the rebel king
know what doom falls upon him.

Crassus erects Pulvinus,

as if we fight
for his entertainment

upon snow of fucking arena.

Then he shall behold
what miracles

of blood a gladiator
is yet capable of.

You speak as though
all stand so.

The ways of us do.

Passed on from our very hands.

Too few to make
difference against hordes

we are pressed between.

Crixus is not wrong
in his belief.

We have done the impossible,

time upon time.

Yet by inspired tactic,
not brute force.

What are the lay
of your thoughts?

Crassus has become overly
bold by advantage he holds.

He places his Praetorium
forward of proper position,

to better view
anticipated victory.

Perhaps we should pay visit,

and explain fatal error.

Does not closer position suggest

heavier guard
surrounding Praetorium?

The wind grows restless
in advance of storm.

By night's fall,

it shall serve as cloak
if our number

is not swollen beyond intent.

How many?

Only the most skilled among us.

We must strike as the serpent,

fast and sure.

If Crassus falls to our venom,

his legions will froth and foam

absent proper command.

A plan well served against
Cossinius and Furius.

You would send a sleeping man
to the afterlife

when he could awaken
to a nightmare.

A sea of death as our entire
army crashes upon him.

Such a force would be discovered
in advance of purpose,

and advantage lost.

A thing a child could see.

You would brand me as such?

Words foolishly chosen,
brother.

Stay by my side,

and when Crassus is falls
from this world

we shall see his legions
swiftly follow.

Lay eyes and report.

We shall hold
perimeter against escape.

There shall be none for
the mighty Crassus this night.

Donar...

What is carved upon his flesh?

Death is undeceivable.

Come on.

Naevia!

Come on.

Fall back to the camp!

Flee, you fucking coward!

In formation!

Crixus!

Advance!

Spartacus slips from snare?

Along with a small
clutch of his men.

Let him feel the sting
of his wounds,

and reflect upon the mind
that inflicts them.

Raise Tiberius and Caesar

from peaceful slumber.

The time for ploy
and deception draws to an end.

Caesar at last rises
from the dead.

As you from specter
of punishment.

What draws concern
in advance of morning sun?

I depart for Melia Ridge
upon dawn's break.

A move long in coming.

Let us hasten arrival --

I'd have you pause
to gather remaining troops

yet in Sinuessa.

Fall to command beneath Tiberius

and join me before
moon greets us.

Should not the man who
took Sinuessa lead them?

Not a boy prone
to losing his sword?

You find my gratitude
short in the coming?

The abundant coin awarded

to keep head above rising debts?

Tales of bravery dispatched with
Metellus to ply ears of Rome?

Celebration thrown
in your honor...

presented by the man
you disrespect.

I need no reminder
of past generosity.

I merely offer suggestion.

And I merely give command.

As I commanded your placement

behind city walls to move
as my instrument.

I took this city.

As I shall take Spartacus' life,

with my son close at hand.

And where shall honored
Caesar find himself

in the midst of such glories?

At equal distance.

If he but removes himself
from his own path.

He falls to command, Imperator.

Stay true to course,

and we shall seize
the heavens as promised.

I shall greet
you upon the ridge.

Move with haste,

and thirst for enemy's blood.

Here we stand.

Title restored to me.

And you beneath heel.

You mind your step, boy.

Many a giant has tumbled
to the afterlife,

believing himself
too big to fall.

Assemble the men.

As commanded.

Does no one ever sleep
in this fucking house?

Apologies.

I was drawn by argument.

And you lurked in
the shadow to witness it?

It is a dangerous thing
to be removed from them.

Since Tiberius is
restored to imagined power.

You rattle tongue
against your master?

I but whisper of common threat.

And means of striking
it from mutual concern.

Gratitude for private audience.

I would not have it known

that we break words.

They yet remain whole
within fucking mouth.

You have witnessed foul mood.

Do not deepen it with mystery

and obscured purpose.

Much has changed of late.

The boy that I once
held to breast as a child

has now grown far removed
from the tenderness of youth.

The thing he has
become now threatens

to turn us both
from desired position.

How deeply have you been
pierced by the boy?

It must be enough to know
that I stand wounded.

As you have been by Tiberius'
return to exalted title.

So you have thought, do you?

Towards dressing such
grievous injuries?

One that I should have
birthed to action long ago.

Then do so.

And leave Caesar far removed
from plots and schemes.

If victory over Spartacus
is shared with Tiberius,

I fear their bond will
be forged in permanence.

Cut circle with
straightest line,

and give voice to what
you would have of me.

It lifts heart.

To know you are yet among us.

Fate owed to you.

Crixus tells of how you
carried me upon back.

It is what any of us would do.

For another warrior.

She yet requires rest.

She will have it, for a time.

Storm grows with
the passing hour,

making Roman advance unlikely.

I would see her undisturbed
by the gale of words as well.

Is this how it is to be now?

Are we always to find ourselves
churning against one another,

as when we were
yet slaves to Batiatus?

Forgotten days when you
were yet of bolder mind.

If we had moved with proper
force against Crassus --

What would have been result?

Peer into future
of path not taken

and break where
you believe it to lead.

Ground not stained
with Naevia's blood.

You would see it
but joined by thousands.

I would but fight.

Wall and trench block
forward tactic.

Your plot against Crassus.

You have been bested
by more devious mind.

We should place sword
in every hand

yet with strength to lift it
and fall upon the Romans.

We are bound by canyon walls,

absent hope
of flanking maneuver.

To face superior
numbers possessed

of armor and discipline
will gain us nothing

but our own deaths.

Then let the Romans see
how we fucking embrace it.

As we were taught
to upon the sands.

You return to spent argument.

Few among us stand
as gladiators.

They do not pray
for a glorious death.

No. They pray to be led.

I will not march my people
to the afterlife!

And I will not die with
a Roman sword in my back!

I will gather those
of a like mind

and press attack upon Crassus.

You will fall to command --

You are not a fucking God!

And I do not heed
to voice upon high!

Crixus!

Have you fallen
from fucking reason?!

A question better
posed to your leader.

Crixus!

Now is not time for quarrel!

Medicus tent has been
struck by rising winds!

The storm approaches!

See those exposed to shelter!

The gods threaten to wipe clean
the blight of rebellion

before we're able
to mount attack.

Then we shall rise
with morning sun,

and finish any they
have chosen to spare.

Caesar.

I did not hear welcoming horns

announcing Tiberius'
approach with balance of men.

They stand as absent
as his presence.

You were to aid him
in troops' movement.

Was command not clear?

As the air between us.

Yet pressing matter
clouds thought,

and thunder sound
toward higher duty...

You would bring her here,

upon field of battle?

Apologies, Dominus.

Caesar but bends
to tearful plea.

From mournful tongue
that must break word.

Leave us.

Caesar!

Caesar!

Why did you not wait
at northern gate as ordered?

Apologies.

Urgent task drew me from
the pleasure of your company.

My father will not stand pleased
by word of insubordination.

I would pause before
seeking audience.

The Imperator
is otherwise taken...

by presence of beloved slave.

Kore?

You disobey command to bring
a fucking woman to encampment?

She was desperate to break word
with your father.

I could not find heart

to deny her opportunity
to gain his ear.

What concerns so move her?

Ah, that's the mystery,
is it not?

Yet calm rattled nerve.

I'm certain father will
share with trusted son

all she reveals.

Is my will to be defied
at every turn?

Did I not tell you
that wanted moment

would find you at battle's end?

I know my presence stands
in violation of rule,

yet I could not wait
upon the hour to see you.

Drink, see yourself warmed.

Gratitude.

Storm's fury stays hand
in returning you to Sinuessa.

At first sign of its passing,

Caesar himself shall
see you again to safety

of city walls.

Where I am to remain
when you return to Rome,

forever banished
from your arms.

Banished?

You mistake intent.

I claimed Sinuessa for you.

So that we may have
a place to ourselves

when I am to visit,

frequently, far from jealous
eyes and wagging tongues.

It is not punishment, but gift.

You shall rise as my name does,

as Vilica
of the House of Crassus

in Sinuessa.

Beneath Tiberius.

He will be beside you,

receiving benefit
of your company and wisdom.

As I so often have.

I know how much
he cares for you.

And you for him.

You've helped move him
from the boy he was

to the man he is.

I can think of no one more
suited to further guide him.

I fear the prospect of blame,

should you find him
less than expected.

Strike worry.

It is a thing beyond imagining.

He has proved bitter
disappointment in the past,

has he not?

It is true that Tiberius
fell to grievous error.

And I to wrath threatening
to shake the heavens.

Yet we now stand as one,

and I know in deepest heart

there is no misstep
that would see father

withhold forgiveness
from treasured son.

I'd hoped soothing words to
stem tide of overflowing tears.

Pay them no mind.

They are but lingering
shadows of a foolish girl.

As long as the woman stands
clear to heart's desire.

Yes, Marcus.

Everything is
very clear to me now.

If we take in any
more our difficulty

may be lack of air to breathe,
not cold or snow.

I prefer the pressing
of rancid flesh

to having cock become as ice.

Am I never to be free
of this fucking shit?

Add to storm's bluster
and see tent blown

from strained mooring.

Castus.

Spartacus commands me here.

Choice is removed from hand.

Yet not from mine.

You would see me free?

Action born of Nasir's plea.

Know that absent them

my blade would be slick
with Cilician blood.

Gratitude.

Do not fucking cast that look.

Where is Gannicus?

He's not with you?

No.

Gannicus!

Gannicus!

With this blood... we humbly...
entreat...

Why do you not go
with the others?

I must give offering...

The gods shall reveal path...

They reveal only your death,

if you remain on bended knee!

Seek shelter!

Or greet your gods upon
the shores of the afterlife!

I could not find him.

I go.

You would be lost as well.

Gannicus will not fall
to wind and ice.

Wine forever in his blood
will keep him warm.

I have never favored the cold.

Share blanket,
and see yourself warmed.

I have no need for it.

Your teeth threaten
to shake from head.

As do mine.

Your wound gives pain?

It reminds that I yet live.

And choose to continue to do so.

We again find ourself
in pressing space.

Nursing wounds
and praying the afterlife

does not take us.

You pray now, do you?

Upon many things.

Yet I am not dim of mind
to kneel in storm,

raise voice to the heavens.

Nor spill my own blood
as offering.

It stood as sacrifice.

For Spartacus.

You believe him a God now?

It was made on his behalf.

To plead for his cause...

and all those devoted to it.

I have doubted
your belief in days past.

Found myself a fool for it --

You are safe... You are safe...

I have warned you.

To stay far from men of my kind.

You ask the impossible.

How many?

Nearly a thousand
lost to the storm.

A thousand.

Spartacus...

I had feared you among the dead.

The gods took pity,

and provided us
with needed shelter.

Not all so blessed.

No. They were not.

We sought aid from the heavens.

To see us beyond darkness
of trench and wall.

And here stands reply.

Yet in their cruelty,

perhaps the gods light way
for those yet living.

You turned from fucking reason.

I have embraced it.

We shall forge trench
and press attack,

as you so championed.

When we held yet
another thousand men,

now forever lost to us.

And what of the army that
awaits beyond Crassus' wall?

How will we match their number?

Perhaps there stands no need.

You speak in fucking riddles,
obscuring truth.

As Crassus obscures
all he has done,

shrouding his moves
in deception.

Placing Caesar among us.

Turning Heracleo to his cause.

Drawing us into trap
within his tent.

Nothing is ever as it appears.

Then break fucking thoughts,
or fall from presence.

His trench stands barrier
enough to halt escape.

Why see it coupled with
impossible fortification?

To keep our eyes from
what lies beyond it.

Or what does not.

A few man placed upon wall

would give illusion
of thousands beyond it.

A deception worthy
of the man himself.

And if you are wrong?

Then we shall embrace
a glorious death.

Absent Roman swords
in our backs.

Your thoughts were true.

There stand only
but a few hundred.

Let us warm the night
with their blood.

Lugo! Brictius!

Take men and see breach
made in the wall!

Imperator!

Imperator!

The rebels have
breached the wall!

Command the legion
to fall to formation!

Quickly!

Was my slave escorted
back to Sinuessa?

None left your tent, Imperator.

Move quickly,
and follow the others!

Up here!

Check everywhere!

She has moved to join rebellion?

An opportunity denied her,

had she not been
brought to the ridge.

I thought her
to have just cause --

Give report.

There stands no sentry
upon the wall.

Nor sight of Spartacus
and his army.

It holds no sense.

How could he have
spanned trench?

The fucking savage.

He fills trench
with his own dead.

He but seizes means left to him.

They can not have
traveled far a distance.

Give order to advance
the legion.

I would reclaim what is mine --

Protect the Imperator!

We must fall back!

Break formation!

The mighty Crassus shows
fucking ass as he flees from us!

He will return,
with rams and ballistae.

And find his monument
of illusion taken to flame,

lending opportunity
to place distance between us.

Let us see ourselves
far from here.

And honor the fallen
with future victories...

and the blood of Marcus Crassus.