All language subtitles for Rome - S1Ep07 - Pharsalus

Perhaps if we retreat
to the coast via Thessaly

we could hold out
until the rains come.

If we go eastward,
they'll be able to cut us off here.

Oh, of course.

It will not do.

Ready.

Mmm.

Maps never
redraw themselves,

if that's what
you're waiting for.

He's right.

We shall just have to fight the wretches
here where we stand.

And beat them.

Oh, we shall crush them, doubtless.

Dinner for worms,
the whole damn lot of 'em.

Dinner for worms.

Try to avoid
bloodshed this time.

Wait a while and
Pompey can shave you instead.

Torquatus should
have something, no?

A Praetorship perhaps.

If Torquatus is
given high office,

then Varro must be given same,
else we'll see no end of trouble.

But then what
do we give Labienus?

- Macedonia?
- Bythnia. Macedonia to Libo.

Plums for your people and
porridge for the rest, eh?

Macedonia and Bythnia
are not yet ours to bestow.

You are cooking rabbits
that have not been caught.

Our particular rabbit
is cornered, starving,

and has lost
near 2,000 men.

I think
we may safely say

that here is a rabbit
ready for the pot.

- Why so melancholy, Brutus?
- Oh, do I seem so?

- Mmm.
- Forgive me.

No, Caesar's defeat
is a glory...

we cannot endure tyrants...
but I cannot celebrate it.

He was
as my father to me.

I feel for you.
When do we strike?

Strike?
We have already struck.

We have him down,
but he is not dead yet, eh?

- When do we strike the final blow?
- There will not be one.

If we simply keep him bottled up
a month or so more,

the remains of his army will
disintegrate and disappear,

- at no cost to us.
- Is that honorable?

- Mmm?
- Caesar has driven us from Rome,

chased us out of Italy,
killed our friends,

usurped our Republic.

Surely, dignity and honor demands
we walk in his blood.

Certainly, knee deep.

But you would have hunger
do our work for us!

We must attack Caesar
and kill him under the eyes of Mars,

- else our victory is empty.
- He has sense.

It will look better
at home if we win by force.

You are Pompey Magnus.

You conquer and crush your enemies
as if they were insects.

People will be disappointed
by anything less.

News from Greece.

Mark Antony is safe,
but most of the ships in his fleet

sent in aid of Gaius Julius Caesar
have been lost at sea.

Caesar is now surrounded
and severely outnumbered.

The forces
of the Republic and Senate

and of Pompey Magnus
confidently expect

a decisive victory
to follow shortly.

- There you are.
- Here I am.

I ask Timon
for protection,

and he sends me a bunch
of half wits and clowns!

- Dear me.
- Caesar will soon be dead

by every account,
and we shall be undefended.

We may as well be lying
naked in the street!

You must go to Servilia
and ask for a few of her men

- to stand outside for us.
- Why?

So that they can guard
our doors in her name, silly.

I mean why must I go?

Well, as if I would
go begging to Servilia.

- I think not.
- I'll not go begging for you.

Oh, don't be so childish.
It's not as if she'll refuse.

- You think?
- Why would she?

Those lovely gifts
I gave her?

- What did she say?
- Nothing.

- Nothing.
- She said something.

She said nothing.

You're very arrogant,
that's all.

Think you can buy her friendship
with stud slaves and tortoises?

And six barrels of ice.

I'd rather not go.

You'd rather not go.

You'd rather be gang-raped
by slavering proles

while your mother's house
burns down around you.

Frankly, I'm past caring.

One day Caesar is winning
and you crow happily,

next day he is losing,
and I must go a-begging?

I just want this vile war
to be over,

- one way or the other.
- Octavia, it is over.

That is why you must go
to Servilia's house.

It's a bore, I know,
but there we are.

Lyde.

Very nice.

Don't.

I'm glad to see you.

I've been worried
about you.

No need.

I'm doing very well.

Not as well
as you, obviously.

Do you need money?

I've got money
if you need some.

I'm sure you have.

Turns out your man
backed the right horse.

Fortune loves you.

I don't know if Vorenus
is alive or dead.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I didn't want
to be like this.

I'm so tired, Niobe.

I'm tired
of being angry.

I'm tired of...

hating you.

You're all I've got.

I'm sorry.

Do you want
some honey water?

You're wasting
your time!

We'll die of thirst
long before we die of hunger.

We could drink
their blood.

- Repeat?
- All these dead men,

we can drink
their blood.

Too salty.

Only make you
more thirsty.

Putrid by now anyway.

Doesn't matter.

Everything will be fine.

This is where we die.

What are you writing?

A message to Niobe.

All right.

Good idea.

Send my best to Eirene,
will you, while you're at it?

If there's space.

Graces,
don't we look lovely.

If I am to be a beggar,
I will not look like one.

Oh, I am not
objecting, my honey,

though you will remind Servilia of
what an old trout she has become.

I'm just happy to see you
looking so pretty for once.

You do so often insist
on playing the frump.

- I hope your mother thrives.
- She does.

- And your son?
- Also.

- My mother sends me to ask a favor.
- Mm-hmm?

She fears
the consequences

of this last battle
in Greece.

Understandably.

She has enjoyed her ascendancy
a little too well.

She asks you
to lend her some men

to protect our door
in your name.

Of course.

Eleni, send Ajax
and three or four others,

- whoever he thinks best.
- Thank you.

It's very kind of you.
I told my mother

- she should not presume...
- Please.

She shall have
what she needs.

Forgive me.
You are so good to us.

- We do not deserve it.
- Don't.

I mu... I must look
a fright.

Mmm.

No, not really.

You look lovely.

I better go home.

So soon?

My mother
will be worried.

Well, if you feel
you should.

Octavia...

Thank you.

Send to Rome.

Tell them...

the decisive battle

begins today.

Sir! Pompey's legions
are in the field in battle array!

Thank you, Fulvio.
Have you forgotten how to salute?

I haven't, sir.
No excuse, sir.

Gracchus,
sound assembly!

- Have Xeno saddle my horse.
- Sir!

We will accept battle?

Certainly. Why not?

We are outnumbered

three to one on foot
and five to one on horse.

What uninjured men
we have

are scared
and hungry and desperate.

That is the advantage
we must press home.

I was not aware
irony had military usage.

We must win or die.

Pompey's men
have other options.

Goodbye, Posca.

Caesar!
Caesar! Caesar!

Send to Rome.

Tell them
Caesar has won.

Sir! Caesar's men
are coming!

I've cut my hand.

We have to go, sir!
They'll catch you.

It's not deep,
but it hurts.

They will kill you!

It's of no consequence.

Our forces are routed.
What are we to do?

We shall fight again
another day I do not doubt...

- And prevail!
- ...and prevail.

But for the present
we must look to our safety.

Our safety is nothing.

We must leave Greece
and look to fresh levies.

- And may one ask where?
- Africa.

We must rally
the cities of Africa.

Africa. Dear gods,

we are fast running out
of continents.

And coin!

We have taxed
every last coin from Greece

and spent it all.

What shall we use
to buy Africa's loyalty?

- Seashells?
- We need buy nothing!

We are
the Senate of Rome!

We are old men
with mud on our shoes!

We are not beaten
until we are dead.

The Republic lives
as long as we do!

You may fight on
as you wish.

As for me,

I will go from here
and surrender myself to Caesar.

Have you no dignity?
No honor?

Some little I hope.

Not so much
as you of course.

- Caesar will kill you.
- That may be.

I'm not afraid to die.

I'm tired.

I want to go home.

Yes. My feelings exact.

Brutus, without the force of your name,
the cause of the Re...

Do not! Do not talk
to me of the Republic.

If I had known
what wretched company

and rotten food
I would endure,

if I had known what
an old fool is Pompey,

I would never
have left Rome.

Forgive my anger.

- I am not myself.
- Think nothing of it.

I merit
your disappointment.

I propose we make
for Amphipoli.

I have men
and money there,

and we can go
by sea to Egypt.

Ptolemy's children are
loyal friends of mine.

Perhaps...

Perhaps it's better

we do not travel together.

Perhaps you're right.

Better.

No doubt.

I don't understand it.

Something should have
turned up by now.

I'm not meant
to die this way.

- You were misinformed.
- Doesn't seem right.

Still...

it'd be good
to see my mother again.

Do you think
they have a system

- for finding people?
- What?

In the afterlife... how do you
go about finding people?

- There must be millions of them.
- Must be.

She won't recognize me,
probably.

I was very young
when she died.

Probably give her
a big scare though, huh?

Big, ugly brute coming along
and giving her a hug.

- Look at that.
- What?

That corpse.

See how high it rides
in the water?

The plutonic aether
inflates him.

What of it?

You've not been drinking
seawater, have you?!

- Husband, eat.
- Oh, yeah.

Over here, my dear.

Here.

- Little salty.
- Not at all. It's good, neh?

Delicious, Mama.

Bona Dea,
look at your faces.

Oh, sillies.

Helen?

Helen!

Husband, wake up!
Our people are leaving.

Now now, my darlings.
Don't be scared.

We're on
an adventure, eh?

The first one
to see the sea and cry out

will have a peach
when we get to Amphipoli.

You, your name again?

Eh...

- Lysandros.
- Lysandros, how far to Amphipoli?

Oh, very close.
Close.

We will continue there
as planned.

You're not to announce my identity
to those that we meet.

And if they ask?

Mella.

- Aeneas Mella.
- Hear and obey, Captain.

And who'll pay?

Pay?

You've been paid already.

For guiding,
not for protection.

I have many men
and supplies

and ample coin
in Amphipoli.

- You will be paid there.
- None with you now? Coin?

None! I'll tolerate
no more of your impudence!

No disrespect, Captain.
Only asking.

We go.

You drive me insane
with your wretched muttering.

What is wrong that you must
harass the gods so?

Nothing.

Well, stop it then.

Servilia sends to invite you
to weave with her tomorrow.

Oh.

- I cannot.
- Of course you can.

- I've already accepted.
- I cannot!

I know she's tedious.
I mean really,

weaving,

but we must keep her happy
for the time being.

But...

The sea!
The sea!

Unison. You shall
both have a peach.

Look, Mama.
Dead people.

It's good, huh?

Where do you come from?

Brindisi.

Romans?

I know you.

Where do I know you from?

I have not
seen you before.

I'm sure I've
seen you somewhere.

Leave them water and bread,
we need to be going.

Leave them?
Weak as they are?

I have no time to waste.

Soon be dark anyhow.

We camp here, get to Amphipoli
in the morning.

I insist we go on.

Relax, old man.

We get there.

You rest easy now, boys.

Eat, drink,
get your strength back.

You and me
will be good friends.

Hey! You want
my cock up you

or are you going to
build a damn fire?

I told you
we'd be all right.

There's no pleasing some.

We stop here?

Why so early?

Best to, I think.
It'll be dark soon.

- Who are they?
- How should I know?

Who cares who they are?

Sorry. Sorry.

I...

all will be well,

I assure you.

All will be well.

Pompey Magnus.

That man looks exactly
like Pompey Magnus.

That's why I thought
I'd met him.

Don't point.

- Never.
- It's hard to believe, eh?

His wife
and sprouts too.

Caesar's going
to drown us in gold.

Thank you.

Cac!

What do we do?

I don't know yet.

Thank you for coming.

Mother insisted.

I understand you want me
to do some weaving with you.

I'm sorry you are upset.

The last time
we saw each other...

It's of no consequence.

Are you fond of weaving?

So did I.

And how is your brother?

- Is he still in Mediolanum?
- He is.

Lovely town,
so I'm told.

- Healthy air.
- Domina?

What is it, Eleni?

Word from Greece.

Caesar has won.

And Pompey's armies
are completely destroyed.

And my son?

No word.

Don't cry.

Oh.

Halt!
In the name of Rome!

Calls himself Rome, now,
does he? Shameless.

Who are you
and what's your purpose?

We are Rome, boy,

what's left of it.

Come to surrender
to your chief.

Brutus!

Cicero!

How happy I am
to see you.

I thought
you were dead.

Sir, I...

I am come here
honorably,

with no request
for mercy,

to surrender my arms
and my horses

- as is...
- Ssh. We'll have no talk of surrender.

We've merely quarreled a little.
Now we are friends again, eh?

That is
most generous of you

and natural
to your manly nature,

- but I cannot...
- My poor boy.

I'm sorry.
I am so sorry.

Not at all.

It is I am sorry.

I presented you
with an impossible dilemma.

You did only
what you thought honorable,

I'm sure.

I kiss you for it.

Thank you.

I will not forget
this grace.

- As I was saying, a most generous...
- But what of Pompey?

Tell me he lives.

He lives.

Thank the gods.
Where is he?

He...

He does not plan
to surrender.

That is insane.

He cannot escape.
Where can he go?

Is Scipio with him?

Cato?

They have fled
to Africa.

What am I thinking of...

asking you questions
when you must be

so hungry and thirsty?

Come.

I, uh...

- I think I would rather...
- I insist.

Come.

So with this hand,
otherwise engaged

I had to take
that worm and beat him

with my fists
over and over

and over again!

His father King Ptolemy
Auletes the 12th

was a close
friend of mine.

I was always assured
a loving welcome

in Egypt. I remember
on one occasion

I was out hunting
with the King.

We were hunting lions,
you see.

Only the King
was rather a poor bowman,

and we couldn't tell

if the lion
was wounded or dead.

Hello, friends.

Feeling better, neh?
Strong?

Strong enough.

Tell me something.
What's the name of that Roman?

His name is, uh,

Aeneas Mella.

That's what he said.

What do you hear
of Caesar and Pompey?

They fought,
I heard.

And?

You know who won.

Tell us.

Pfft!

I was going
to let you in anyway.

- What's he talking about?
- You boys are clever fellows, I bet.

Know how to fight.

Me and my boys can't take
his people alone.

Us and you together,
no problem.

We go down middle
on the reward.

Not a bad idea.

You can have
the wife and children,

I take the slaves.

Walk away...

- and do not speak of this again.
- I see.

Think you don't
need me, eh?

Think you can keep
the reward for yourself?

- Fuck you. Not going to happen.
- Don't.

Fuck you! I gave you
your lives back,

I can take them
away again, easy.

When I am
finished speaking,

you will turn
and run

- that way.
- That way?

What about
this way?

Do not stop until
you are out of my sight

and do not delay,
or I will kill you.

What is wrong
with him?

I am finished speaking.

A bit harsh,
isn't it?

Fair enough deal
he was offering, I thought.

- What is the meaning of this?
- Sir...

Speak up! This man
was in my employ!

- He planned to assault you.
- How do you know?

He asked us
to participate.

You refused, stabbed him
to death on my behalf.

A good friend to me
on such short acquaintance.

- What is your name?
- I am Lucius Vorenus.

Prefect and Evocati of
the 13th Legion of Galius Julius Caesar.

Titus Pullo,
legionary of same.

Salve, Lucius Vorenus.

I am...

Aeneus Mella...

of Pergamum.

Aeneus Mella.

You must consider yourself
under my charge.

I do not understand.

Consider yourself
a prisoner

of the 13th Legion.

I'm just a merchant.

We know
who you are, sir.

I own you now!
Understand?!

You, you,
bury him.

The rest of you...

- don't let them leave.
- Lucius Vorenus.

I must speak
with you alone.

Stay here.

Of course
I do not say I am

who you think I am,

but I have spent
some years in the army.

Perhaps we met
on some campaign or other.

Perhaps that's why
I seem familiar.

Perhaps.

I recall the 13th...

- was at Alesia.
- We were.

There's a battle I've always
wished to have seen.

25 miles of works,
wasn't it?

- Nearer 30.
- 30?

- How many men did you have?
- 60,000.

Against...
whoa...

almost double
the Gauls.

At least double.

The best men
of every tribe in Gaul.

Ah.

Caesar can fight.

I'll give him that.

I remember...

when he was
not much older than you.

I sent him
to winter Quarters in...

in, uh...

Oh, where was it?

No matter.

Long time gone.

I must ask you, sir,
if I may.

How did you
come to this road?

Surely...

Pompey had Caesar
at greater disadvantage.

He did.

It didn't seem
possible to lose.

That's always a bad sign.

The battlefield
was on a plain

by a river,
at the foot of some...

low hills.

Like this, you see.

The lines met here.

My men held
their ground well,

so I sent my horses

at his right flank.

Which is
perfectly correct,

- you'll agree.
- I do.

Only the cowards
were repulsed.

Repulsed by a single cohort
of reserves.

Turned and fled,
200 horses.

Crashed directly
into my left flank.

Rolled up my line

like a carpet.

Put the whole
damned army to flight.

And here I am.

That's how Pompey Magnus

was defeated.

That's how
the Republic died.

- Good night, sir.
- Wait.

I will not...

I will not ask favor

or mercy for myself.

But I beg you...

consider the fate...

of my wife
and children.

Let me
take them to Egypt

where they
will be safe...

among friends.

Consider them.

Go back to sleep.

Unwise and unfriendly,
I call it.

Unwise and unfriendly.

And for why?

Why?

We had him.
We had him.

Horses.
Never mind, horses.

Never mind gold.

Caesar would have
given us farms

and fields and orchards
and great flocks of slaves

and cattle
and Dis knows what...

'Sist! Pompey Magnus is no
damn slave to be sold for money.

- Don't see why not!
- There's a great deal you don't see.

There's a great deal
he doesn't see neither.

You and only 12 other men
survived that storm.

Out of 5,000.

You're being kept alive

- for some great purpose, no doubt.
- Ah, well.

You know, sir...

- He has some interesting news.
- Indeed?

Sir, in course
of our journey here,

we encountered
Gnaeus Pompey Magnus with his family

- and a party of servants.
- Where?

On the road to Amphipoli,
with a mule train.

A mule train.
It's priceless.

He intends to take ship
for Egypt, sir.

Family and servants,
you say.

- No soldiers?
- None, sir.

Not one man left,
not one.

Oh, poor wretch.

Why then,
be that so,

- did you not apprehend him?
- Now here's the onion.

I thought it would be
wrong to do so.

Explain yourself.

His hands trembled, sir.

His clothes were dirty,

there was water in his eyes...
he is broken.

I saw no need
to apprehend him.

I'd like to add
that Legionary Pullo

took no part
in my decision, sir.

You saw no need.

Do you not see
that Pompey may be broken

like a Dacian catamite
and still be dangerous?

If he is still living,

he will be a standard
around which

our enemies will gather!

As long as he can be
propped on a horse,

he's dangerous!

- But you saw no need to apprehend him?
- I did not, sir.

Who by the sons of Dis gives you
the right to make such judgment?

Sir, I am aware that
I have not done my duty,

and I respectfully ask
your pardon.

My pardon, he asks.

I ought to have you
scourged and crucified.

In future you will remember
that it is I

that offers mercy.
No one else.

Clear?

Clear, sir.

Dismissed.

I do not like
to disagree with you,

but you are being
far too lenient with him.

He let Pompey go
and you let him live?!

The man should be made
an example of!

Any other man,
certainly.

But those two...

they found
my stolen standard.

Now they survive a wreck

that drowned an army and find
Pompey Magnus on a beach.

They have powerful gods
on their side,

and I will not kill any man with
friends of that sort.

Posca.

Tell Fulvio to start
breaking camp.

We're going to Egypt.

General Pompey, sir.

Remember me? Lucius Septimius.

Centurion Septimius,
as was.

I was with you in Spain.

Fourth legion,
third cohort.

Lucius Septimius,
of course.

What are you doing here,
of all places?

- Working for the Gyppoes, sir.
- Huh?

I know, sir. It's not
the fourth by no means.

- A man's got to earn his salt, eh?
- True enough.

What's all this then,
soldier?

Not much of a welcome party.

Oh, you know Egyptians, sir,
it's just their way. Funny people.

That they are.
Well...

onward friend.

I'm sorry, sir.