Original subtitles

Spartacus!

You charge without thought...

A weakness an opponent could turn to advantage.

A difficult feat from his backside.

You speak without thought as well...

Another weakness.

Thracians... always on their back with their legs spread.

Where they belong.

Forget everything you learned outside these walls,

for that is the world of men.

We are more.

We are gladiators!

Study, train,

bleed,

and one day your name will be legend,

spoken in hushed whispers of fear and awe,

as the city speaks of Crixus, champion of Capua.

But his legend

was not birthed in the arena.

It was given life here

in this ludus,

under the sting of my whip!

Attack!

Attend.

The vulcanalia is announced.

Vulcanalia?

A festival to ward off wildfires.

Dominus Batiatus has seen fit to fight 20

at this year's vulcanalia...

His gift to the people of Capua.

Our lowest shall fight at dawn,

eight pairs to follow,

after which your master will present his primus...

Two of our finest

to meet in the arena.

Crixus then?

Crixus certainly.

And his opponent?

Against the champion of Capua...

What would it matter?

20 men... I pledged 20 men to fill the ranks of the vulcanalia,

my own coin to see each victor paid.

What thanks do I get from the magistrate?

He fears he will be unable to attend our reception on the eve of the games

- due to pressing concerns. - Of what sort?

I hear a rumor he dines with Solonius instead.

Solonius? But he offers not one man for the vulcanalia.

Yet his tongue still manages to find its way to the magistrate's asshole.

Is that new?

For the reception, yes.

The rising cost of this thing raises concern.

It raises opportunity.

I question not its import. I question its scale.

This drought has stretched our resources thin,

and now without the attendance of the magistrate...

Darling, you must spend coins to receive coins.

My husband taught me that.

A wise man.

He has his moments. And this will be one of them.

You'll delight and astound, securing business for the year to come,

and perhaps even tempt Glaber's wife to take up the cause of patronage.

Ilithyia?

I thought she was still in Rome with that ungrateful husband of hers.

She returns absent him for the games.

She's acquiring quite a taste for them,

one which I shall nourish to advantage.

This new color suits you.

Shall I dye the rest to match?

The bird would be better served in my bowl.

Odds the meal would be your last.

Barca?

He stands but tall.

He stands a legend.

After Carthage suffered defeat by the Romans,

they forced hundreds of his people

to fight against each other in the arena.

Half a day passed,

and only two remained...

Barca and the chief of his people,

the noble Mago.

Skill and the testament of years were his allies...

strength and youth... Barca's.

Mago fell to his knees.

And Barca became the Beast of Carthage.

He sent an old man on his way.

Mago was a warrior of fierce renown,

a chief upon a throne of blood.

He was also Barca's father, as the story tells.

Is it true?

In the world of the gladiator,

a man's fame and glory constructs its own truth.

Fame and glory.

I seek neither.

Coin then, like me.

Batiatus: Open the gates. And have the guard ready.

A moment, Dominus.

10 paces.

Is there any news of my wife?

She was indeed sold to a Syrian merchant.

You found her?

I have cause to believe she sails upon the Orontes.

To Damascus then, or perhaps Antioch?

Do I appear a fucking arrow,

my nose pointing towards your wife's dripping thighs?

You press beyond position.

Dominus.

The search continues. That's all you need to know.

Until then, fight, win. The price of her freedom requires

substantial sums on your part.

Too common. Show me something of note.

A moment. I have just the thing. My finest piece... a flawless gem

imported at great cost from the mines of Scythia.

- Price? - 30 dinarii.

30?

This piece... is it something that Ilithyia would favor?

It's the only piece I'd show her. She has very refined tastes.

25.

- 29. - 28,

and I'll resist pitching you off the balcony.

28 then.

Hmm.

Come along then.

Doctore: Form two. Ready?

One.

Form one. Ready?

One.

Two.

Form two. Ready?

One.

Two.

Form three.

Stand.

Spartacus, do you dream of the mines?

My focus is on blood and battle, Doctore.

Yet your training proves you worthy of neither.

I'm a Thracian.

It is in my blood.

Thrace?

Hmm.

A swamp of piss.

Kneel.

The land from which you hail

matters no longer.

The only thing that does

is the sound of my voice

and the sand beneath your feet.

You will learn to worship it.

Back to training.

The sand smells like Thrace.

Perhaps I should shit to complete the aroma.

You... you're summoned.

This drought seems never to end.

How do you fare?

Domina provides for me.

That's good. Good.

How long have you served Domina?

All my life.

I was born in this ludus.

You've recently come to blossom.

I barely noticed until I saw you

at the games with Domina three moons past.

I fought Arnoch of Tarquinii.

Did you enjoy my victory?

I was pleased

when it ended.

It's no easy task to sever a man's head.

You must find the right angle.

I do not favor the games.

Well, that is an odd bent

for a slave at a gladiator school.

One not to be straightened.

I do not mean to insult.

Domina awaits.

You walk too slowly to my chambers.

I do not want to arouse the suspicions of my men as to my purpose.

What might that be, O Champion of Capua?

Whatever Domina desires.

I bought this necklace for the reception.

Do you think it's too much?

My blood rises,

though to give the necklace credit would be false.

And what quickens your pulse?

A touch of your lips,

your breasts,

and all of the pleasures below.

I need your cock inside me,

and I need it in me now.

Never lose focus,

not if Jupiter himself were to rip open the heavens

and dangle his cock from the skies.

A gladiator's first distraction

is his last.

Not all contests end in death.

Two fingers... a sign of surrender

and shame.

The oath I swore to this place did not include begging.

He inquires as to the nuances...

I need no lesson in submission.

You prefer a different lesson...

In obedience perhaps?

To the hole,

both of you!

Perhaps I spoke out of turn.

Perhaps.

What I perceived as courage in you reveals itself foolishness.

To surrender in the arena... I cannot do it.

I must have victory.

What happens if that is something you cannot provide?

Oh, silence then?

Next time you vex Doctore, you'll find my tongue of a similar fashion.

Your company here was not my intent.

Yet here I stand beside you, my cock soaking in the same shit.

Apologies.

That's all?

No reason behind it?

No glimpse into the fevered brain of what the fuck are you doing?

I seek only to please Batiatus.

Pluto's asshole.

The answer has no balance with your actions.

He made me a promise.

What could he offer a man who seeks neither fame nor glory?

My wife...

taken from me when I was captured by the Romans.

I prevail in the arena, and he will find her.

Is she worth it?

She's worth everything.

As is mine.

Two years here,

pay my debt with the winnings... Hold her in my arms again.

Perhaps this smell will have washed off by then.

What name do you call her?

Aurelia.

Yours?

Sura.

So...

buried up to our balls in garbage...

Is this part of your plan to get Sura back?

You would waste your ration cleaning a bit of cloth?

It bears meaning to me.

Gather.

Your master's hand has been at work.

The pairings of the vulcanalia have been decided.

Crixus, unbeaten champion of Capua,

you will honor the house of Batiatus

by fighting in his primus.

And who will challenge me, Doctore?

A man of skill and dedication.

His ability, his hard work and his hunger

shall be rewarded...

Gnaeus.

At last we meet, brother.

Don't die too quickly.

Me?

I will fuck your corpse.

With what cock?

Ashur has the remainder.

May the gods be with you.

One by one. One by one, you fucking cunts.

Batiatus himself handed me this list.

Give it here, shitfuck.

Ashur: Savages.

Fucking cock.

Let me see.

Shit, give it here.

Did you gain position?

As did you.

We are set to fight each other

at the beginning of the games.

The first match...

The slot of the meek and insubstantial.

We shall prove otherwise.

And to what aim? The victor's purse won't be more than half a coin.

So little?

Not enough for either of our causes.

And the primus?

Considerably more.

I've already bested Crixus once in the final test.

Now I must fight my way up through the dregs to face him again?

Dregs, am I?

You know my meaning.

If Batiatus hadn't stayed my hand,

I would have parted his brains from his skull.

There's no love lost between myself and Crixus.

But I caution... he's dangerous.

A reputation built on what,

facing men such as Gnaeus and his little net?

Crixus forged his reputation against far worse...

Demons belched from the underworld.

The Gargan twins.

Uh-huh.

Decimus and Tiberius, sons of a whore raped by a jackal,

more beasts than men.

They terrorized the eastern seaboard for many years until their capture.

They were cast in the arena to die

and instead flourished on meals of bone and blood...

The bodies of stout men left in their wake, half devoured.

No one dared face them willingly except for one...

Crixus, the champion of Capua.

The blood flowed. The crowd roared.

And the demons fell beneath his sword.

Spartacus: The sons of a jackal?

So they say.

This story is a jest

like Crixus himself.

Did you hear this one?

One day maybe you'll prove yourself.

Till then you'll fight at dawn with the rest of the shitwhores.

I keep pace with the mighty Spartacus.

Does that place my worth among the dregs?

- I misspoke. - A thing with you, is it not?

I shall call you equal. More will need to be earned.

It will be a good fight.

May the gods see us both survive.

There are many I would see dead in this place.

You are not among them, Varro.

You may not have a choice.

There's always a choice.

That look gives me worry.

Words I've often heard from my wife.

Your net's aim is remarkably true, Gnaeus.

You strike an impressive figure

battling that little wooden man.

I long to see you in the arena,

among the men.

There you are with your fierce net,

like a young, wet girl.

Fucking cunt.

The sun has made Gnaeus mad.

He charged like a crazed goat.

I saw his eyes. They were wild with thirst.

Barca, Kerza, tend to Gnaeus.

Back to work!

Ashur,

there's something I need you to get for me.

Whatever your needs, Ashur provides.

Follow me

away from prying ears.

I must make a point to stop standing beside you.

Gnaeus is of an unsteady nature.

If your intent was to claim Gnaeus's berth in the primus, you're a fool.

He served five years before being afforded the privilege.

Sura cannot afford years.

Nor your death,

which is surely your station if you face Crixus in the arena.

Gladiators,

your public has arrived.

Dress quickly. The reception begins.

Crixus,

let good Mercato have a closer look at your sword.

Dominus.

The very blade used to strike down Tiberius and Decimus.

If you were to bestow Capua with a gift of a munus,

what better means than by securing Crixus

along with a dozen or so of my other offerings to round out proceedings?

I have been contemplating the games in honor of my good friend...

Ashur, good Mercato has set his mind to a day of games.

Let's see his order well filled, shall we?

Go.

- Oh, the dust and the heat. - It worsens by the hour.

I'd yet be in Rome if it weren't for the games.

You must promise to visit while I'm here.

My father's villa is beyond depressing.

It's unfortunate that your husband couldn't join you.

How fares the legatus?

In a mood. Since his return from Thrace,

the senate has become his mistress.

Her demands on him are boundless.

Men and their ambitions.

You know, they should learn to appreciate the finer things in life.

That necklace... I adore it.

Oh, this? It's a trinket.

Calls to mind a piece I had from Ramel one season,

when emerald was still the fashion.

I hear it's coming back around.

Oh, perhaps I'll root mine out then.

Friends old and new, gratitude for honoring

the storied ludus of Batiatus with your presence this eve.

Tomorrow's vulcanalia promises many glories in the arena.

But tonight may I present you

with the finest gladiators in all of the republic?

Look, touch,

feel the quality of the stock.

Place orders for any of the men you covet.

Come, don't be bashful. They won't bite.

And if they do, a 10% discount.

The crowd fancies our Thracian, don't they?

A curiosity born of his fortune against Solonius's men.

Better curiosity than indifference.

Perhaps we could fuel this interest into a conflagration of coin.

With Gnaeus of questionable skull,

what make you of Spartacus as replacement in the primus?

With respect, Dominus,

the public seeks an honorable fight.

Spartacus is yet an animal.

Well, I'll think on.

One day, though, a contest to be promoted.

A moment alone...

A rarity for a man with such an adoring public, huh?

To business then.

A difficult task on a short notice, yet...

carried to completion.

Cockfucker.

Your Gaul is of a fine cut, is he not?

None finer in all of the republic.

Such a man.

I tremble to see him again at the arena.

As do we all.

The Thracian yet lives.

For now.

Is there nothing more of interest to see?

Well, my husband will shortly announce his primus.

And there's ample wine.

I fear it already beckons my sleep.

Perhaps I'd best take leave.

Of course.

Of course, there is one thing that I thought you might enjoy.

It's something of a much more physical nature.

You,

come with me.

Five dinarii says he doesn't last another 20 strokes.

I've never seen a gladiator fuck before.

Look at the way he rams her,

like an enraged bull.

A gladiator's virtues extend

well beyond the sands of the arena.

As lovers they are said to be ravenous beasts.

You can touch.

Forgive me, Aurelia.

They provide unimaginable pleasures.

Can he do it again?

Make him do it again.

Proceed.

- So are we in agreement? - Rabanus will meet Crixus.

We'll move Hamilcar up to fill the void.

I overheard Batiatus and Doctore in conference...

The primus their intent.

The Sardinian is to face Crixus.

The news does not balance my cause.

Whatever your thoughts, cast them out.

Good citizens, you have enjoyed my food, my wine,

the aphrodisiac presence of my beautiful wife.

Now marvel at the announcing for tomorrow's primus.

Crixus, the champion of Capua,

will stride across the sand and face...

Spartacus!

No, let them fight.

Enough.

I'll take your fucking heart.

Come and take it, coward.

Ha!

See the hatred burning beyond control.

Eh?

This was merely a taste.

Tomorrow they will settle this grudge in the arena.

Crixus the undefeated,

Spartacus... the dog who defies death.

A fight for the ages.

Glory to Capua!

Glory to Rome!

To Rome!

The reception nearly ruined, and what is his punishment?

The fucking primus.

You heard the crowd. I made the best of the situation.

The Thracian is yet to stand a single match as gladiator.

Why leap him ahead of all the others to face Crixus?

Because of what he possesses... The public's interest.

They stroke a rabid dog.

Spartacus has struck a chord. I intend to maximize its profit.

He's unpredictable.

He has no regard for rules or for honor.

And if something happens to Crixus...

He poses no threat to Crixus. He is but a novelty

to be used and discarded after a purpose.

Fucking gods' cock, is there no wine left?

What are you standing there for?

Go and get some fucking wine.

Apologies.

I did not mean to startle.

When we spoke last,

I meant no offense.

I am practiced with sword, not words.

If Domina discovers I dropped the last jug...

Hand me the pieces. I'll see them over the cliff.

Wait.

Perhaps this gift will explain where words fail.

Please.

I'm trying to decide.

Upon what?

Congratulations or condolences.

You may have bested Crixus once

by tripping him with that bit of cloth,

but to face him in the arena...

I believe his reputation inflated.

Tomorrow I shall prove it so.

Next he'll boast he can defeat Theokoles himself.

Perhaps, if I knew the man.

Theokoles... the shadow of death.

He speaks so brazenly of the arena.

He knows nothing of its history.

Theokoles is no man, Thracian.

He is something else entirely.

They say he stands over 10' tall.

The very ground trembles at his feet,

his shadow eclipsing the sun.

Most men fall dead at the sight of the giant.

They are the fortunate ones.

My father tells of a munus

where the shadow fought over 100 men.

But one survived.

A tale

to frighten children.

Theokoles is no legend.

Before he retired from the arena,

only one man ever faced him and lived.

And he breathes among us,

his whip ever at our backs.

Now is not the hour for idle talk.

Tomorrow you step into the arena,

many for the first time,

for some perhaps the last.

They cheer for blood.

And they shall have it.

May the gods bring you fortune as they did me this morning.

Sura believed in the gods

when the Romans took her.

Not one descended from the heavens to intervene.

I shall correct their mistake presently.

I believe you will.

Capua!

The crowd favor your offerings.

Yes, a fine showing all around. You honor our fair city, Batiatus.

The honor is mine, Magistrate.

Truth told, I feared the event would pass without anything of note this year.

It's very difficult to procure men of worth for these minor games.

Good Solonius was already taken with loftier engagements.

Perhaps Solonius will be available next year.

One can but pray.

Perhaps I was wrong to return absent the rain.

Some water perhaps,

or maybe some wine.

Ugh, the thought churns the stomach.

Your company last night

yet astounds the senses.

Too much?

Of wine, definitely.

Of other interests,

I think the surface barely scratched.

Some water then

to slake your current thirst.

Here we go then.

Good citizens of Capua,

it is my great honor

to introduce to you

the primus of Quintus Lentulus Batiatus.

Enter Thraex!

Behold Spartacus!

Spartacus! Spartacus! Spartacus!

Renowned for his magnificent victory

at the games of Senator Albinius,

where he single-handedly slaughtered

four of Solonius's gladiators... four!

Enter murmillo!

The marvel before you needs no introduction.

He's known by his sword, by his shield, by his glory!

Crixus, champion of Capua.

Crixus! Crixus! Crixus!

Finally, Crixus.

Look how his form catches the sun.

Capua!

Crixus! Crixus! Crixus!

Capua!

Batiatus: In honor of the name of Batiatus

and the sacred vulcanalia...

You've not yet finished the oration, and yet the Thracian attacks.

- Was that not supposed to happen? - No, it was not.

How exciting.

Is that all the Thracian is capable of?

After what he did against Solonius's men,

I had hoped for more.

Crixus! Crixus! Crixus!

Kill him!

Crixus, I love you!

Capua!

Shall I begin?

Now you die, Thracian.

Kill kill kill kill!

Spartacus fought well.

Let him live to fight another day.

A sour bite to end the meal.

Apologies,

yet Spartacus was of some cost to me.

You've already lost the crowd.

He lives.

How disappointing.

His reputation is well-earned.

My blade could find no weakness.

And yet it was there...

At least 10 points

where you could have seized advantage.

You needed more training.

I shall train harder then.

No.

It is too late for such things.