All language subtitles for Rome.S01E04.720p.BluRay.x264-SiNNERS

The day was hot, but the night turns chilly fast,
it seems, for the time of year.

Day after tomorrow, we shall be in Capua
and you will sleep in a good warm house.

Though goatskin has its virtues.

Here we are, refugees in our own land.

We are not refugees.
We are maneuvering.

As you say, here we are maneuvering,

while the tyrant sits in Rome.

Yes, in my tent,
I sleep sound and deep as a child.

- Though perhaps not tonight.
- I'm sorry it bothers you.

He'll be finished soon enough.

Quintus has a knack for this kind of thing.

Well, I hope so.

Your son Quintus,
I did not know he was with us.

Arrived this morning from Brindisi.

That's better.

Screaming makes poor sauce, I find.

Quintus has his faults,

but he is loyal and fearless.

A father cannot ask more.

I've never heard nor thought otherwise.

The dog confessed at last.

- Torn up good and red.
- Blood on your face. Wash yourself.

Well, where is Durio? Where is the gold?

He killed Durio as you suspected.

And they took the gold north
on the Via Flaminia,

ran slap into Caesar's scouts.

Pair of Romans, 20 head of Ubian.

Too many for our boys.

They ran, the filth that they are.
Left the gold to the scouts.

Can't be so. I've heard from Rome
this last hour. Caesar has not got the gold.

My man Volpe always gets to truth, Father.

If Caesar does not have it,
his scouts must have kept it.

- Go find these scouts.
- I will.

Now!

You see, the tide turns already.

Without the gold, Caesar will find Rome
a little harder to subdue.

Without the gold,
we're not very well placed, either.

Without gold, he will have to use violence.

Once he starts spilling blood, the people
will turn on him with a vengeance.

Without the people, he has nothing.

"Martial law is in effect
for the safety of all citizens.

"Groups of more than three men

"shall not congregate in public spaces.

"A curfew is in effect.

"Any person found on the street after dark

"will be subject to summary judgment.

"Long live General Gaius Julius Caesar,

"savior of our Republic."

Halt!

Name yourself, citizen.

Gaius of the Julii, called Caesar.

- Speak, then.
- I humbly ask that auguries be taken

that Rome might know
that the gods favor my actions.

You've entered the city under arms.

I must warn you, that seldom augurs well.

The gods know my intentions are peaceful.

The people must know it also.

So be it.

Auguries will be taken
on the first clean morning.

Let the birds fly where they may.

- How be, paisan?
- Miserable.

Slave of a rebel.

- A successful rebel, at least.
- The jury's still out. And you, my child?

For true misery, try bondage
to a bloody-minded woman.

This dinner tonight, Caesar asks, no shellfish.

Here is a guest list.

I hope your lady is aware
of the honor done to her.

She's very aware.

Caesar's hostess is first woman of the city,
in effect.

- Excepting Caesar's wife.
- Calpurnia?

Caesar requires that she's still
and handsome and dignified and no more.

She is a species of statue.

A very fancy list of people.

Every aristo and optimate left in the city.

He's not planning on killing them, is he?

I shouldn't think so.

My mistress doesn't like surprises.

Servilia. Why invite her?

Can there still be something between them?
A raddled old sandal like her? Surely not.

Some juice in her yet.

I'll not let that woman
get between me and Caesar.

Why is Servilia invited to the party?

Servilia of the Junii, why is she invited?

On account of her son, obviously.

For this, you wake me?

Of course. He needs to keep Brutus
as his symbolic friend.

That's all. It would look ill with the people
if Brutus were his enemy.

There's no love there. It's just politics.

Dear gods, woman, would you let me sleep?

- The goat's testicles, domina.
- Not for me, fool, for Octavian.

Fetch Demeter.
Eat them while they're warm, my dear.

- It puts oak in your penis.
- I'd rather not.

Nonsense, you must.

You've been developing
a distinctly feminine anima. I do not like it.

I am only a boy. It is entirely natural...

When my mother's father was your age,
there was not a slave girl safe.

The men of the Julii are masculine men.
Now do as I say and eat them.

- I will not.
- You'll not leave this room until you do.

Demeter, the banquet this evening,
no shellfish.

And be sure the lampreys are not overcooked.

Boil them long enough to kill them, no more.

I'm waiting.

That's my brave boy.

Brother.

- Did Mother have Glabius killed?
- Of course not.

- You're sure?
- I cannot prove a negative,

- but I'm sure as can be.
- You swear on Jupiter's stone?

I swear on Jupiter's stone.

If she did, if she did kill him,

by the Furies, I'll open her throat with my teeth.

In Narbo, I could buy ten feasts for this.

Narbo isn't full of corpses and soldiers,

and decent people too scared
to come out of their houses.

No time to throw a do.

I cannot start a business
without a feast, can I?

Today is auspicious, and it's perfectly safe.

I remember when Sulla had soldiers in the city.

- Blood, you could paint houses with it.
- Caesar's not Sulla.

He's declared martial law,
not to spill blood, but to keep the peace.

We'll see, won't we? I invoke Ceres
and Bacchus, you'll not be dissatisfied.

You find me a pig,
and I'll make you a feast, in Hades, if need be.

- And charge according.
- Musa, the oilman's wife,

served whelks instead of oysters
at her womb funeral.

Nobody would let her forget it.
Laughed at in the street.

Divine Janus, we offer this feast to you

and humbly beg that you will be gracious
and merciful to me and my house,

and you will smile upon
this new business venture I begin today.

Lucius Vorenus, his honor
Mark Antony orders your presence.

- Now?
- Of course not. Next year.

My dear comrade.

Barely know you without
a bloody sword in your hand.

Off with you now, Cato.

Amusing...

- Cato.
- As you say.

Of course, you don't all find it amusing.

So...

how is civilian life treating you, huh?

Well enough so far, sir.

You know, of course,

I could have you nailed to a cross
for desertion.

I am no deserter. My time was served.

I abided my sacrament. It is you that...

It is I that what?

Over the Rubicon,
Romans are citizens, not soldiers.

- I could not legally do other than I did.
- Foolish.

- Like a priest blinded by a cowl.
- Since the founding of Rome...

Please, spare me the founding, Vorenus.

Things change. Life is water, not stone.

Then I suppose I will drown.

Do you not see that
your precious Republic has long since died?

Do you not see that Caesar
is trying to save Rome from ruin?

I do not see that.

Enough.

And what wretched trade is it
you intend to follow, then?

Imported goods from Gaul.
Slaves, truffles, wine. That sort of thing.

A grocer?

An honest fighting man
like yourself counting cartons,

scribbling accounts?

- You will swift go mad.
- That may be.

I need you, Vorenus.

Caesar needs you.

There is no better man in the legion,
none more respected by the men.

- We have hard fighting ahead.
- Hard fighting against Romans.

Blood is blood.

Would you really have the 13th
fasten their crest without you?

You come back to the legion,

you shall be inducted
into the evocati as a prefect.

Of the first grade, with a signing bonus.

Say...

10,000 sesterces.

I chose this path. I will follow where it leads.

You grieve me, Vorenus.

You grieve me deeply.

Go on. Off with you.

Good day, citizen.

Vorenus...

Next time I see you, I may not be so kind.

What does it say?

It's not certain,

but I'd say your secret's safe.

Not certain?

- The signs are mixed.
- What good is that?

Tell me what it is you're hiding
and I can be more precise.

There's a child involved.

A male child?

The baby.

- Never mind. Best leave it.
- As you please.

If it's any help, it does say

your husband is going to be rich.

Rich as Croesus.

Well, that's something, isn't it?

Thank you.

Good. Done.

Water.

What did I look like eight years ago?

Just the same.

Eight years

of leathery Gallic trollops.

When did he last see a real lady?

And such a beautiful one?

- Flowers.
- In bloom?

50,000 to each of the magistrate's clerks.

So much?

I wish to buy their allegiance outright,
not lease it.

Have them sign for the money.

And how much for the sub-praetors?

Nil. When they hear how much
the clerks got, they'll come begging.

And leave us penniless
without means to run the city.

We must kill some rich men
and take their money very soon,

else the well will run dry very soon.

I plan on killing no one
unless absolutely necessary.

A fine, noble strategy,

an element of surprise, no doubt.

Later, you may nag me.

I believe this is appropriate.

Exactly right, my dear.

Regal, but not excessively so.

Fine start to the business, if nobody comes.

Don't worry. They will come.

Maybe I should have waited as you said.

They will come.

And mind now, when they do come,

try to smile occasionally.

And don't bark at them.

- Who's this?
- Erastes Fulmen.

Remember? Our guest of honor.

Building trades, fire insurance, olives.

Lucius Vorenus.

Niobe.

Thank you for coming, honest neighbor.
It can't be easy on such a day.

What's a few soldiers?

Wife, Phyllis.

- Please.
- Sit down and take a cup of wine.

I will. Thirsty road?

Sister.

- All right?
- All's right. Don't worry.

- Thank you.
- This can't be little Lyde.

- Surely not. Long time...
- Salve, Lucius.

- This is my husband, Evander Pulchio.
- Welcome.

- Honored.
- Thank you for the pig.

With all the shops shut, we had no meat.

Happy to be of service.

- Thank you so much for inviting me.
- My pleasure, Servilia.

I insisted you come.

Whatever misfortune befalls you,

we're still friends.

She has a good cosmetics slave, I'll grant you.
But a lover for Caesar? Absurd.

Make way for the proconsul
Gaius Julius Caesar,

Son of Venus,
Imperator of the Gallic Legions.

Stand aside and open up.

Please, you mock me.
It's only your Uncle Gaius. Lift your heads.

All of you, lift your heads.

My dear niece.

Revered uncle,

welcome home.

Servilia of the Junii, a pleasant honor it is.

Delightful.

Your pleasure is mine.

I am very sorry your son is not here with you.

I'm sorry also.

I hope you will forgive his absence.

He is ever your friend.

I understand completely.

Please send Brutus my best regards

and assure him he will never have reason
to regret our friendship.

Nor will any of you,

regardless of where your allegiances
may have lain in the past.

- Any weapons?
- None, sir.

- Where are you coming from?
- From Aternum, dominus.

- In what trade?
- Corpse collectors, bone grinders.

- Dead business in general.
- You've come to the right place, then.

What people are they?

Scythians, chief.
They don't speak our language.

On your way, then.

Go on! Please let me in!

You!

Tell your brutes
to stay away from decent women.

I'll do that.

Fine bit of plunder and rapine
you made off them bloody Gauls, I bet.

I'll not complain.

Handy to have cash
in these uncertain times.

A man can't flee with his house and fields
if he's chosen the wrong side.

- True.
- Who do you reckon will come out on top?

It's hard to say.

You'll be hoping it'll be your man though, eh?

If you mean Caesar,
he's not my man any more.

So, your spoils,

you'll be lending the proceeds, I expect.

I won't.

I am buying back this insula
so I'll not have spare cash.

I plan to take over the trading space
for an import business.

- Slaves, mostly.
- Slaves?

Well, listen, I have friends,

bona friends.

If you want any help, you come to me?

More wine here, sweetie.

There are even those unwise men

who say that a white bird
in the southern quadrant

is neither indicant nor negation!

Such are the barbarous
innovations of our day.

Barbarous. We might as well be Syrian.

- Point to pommel, I agree.
- Syrians, indeed. Scythians, even.

As Chief Augur,
I'm gratified to hear you say so.

It was heard you are a man of modish opinion.

That's pure scandal.

I believe that religion
is the province of our worthy priests.

Mere soldiers like myself best not interfere.

That's very gratifying.

Octavian, don't sit there like a prole.

- Say something witty.
- I have nothing such to say.

You know I cannot talk small, Mother.

You, then. Some poetry.

She can rattle off pages of the stuff.

"Easy it is to go down into Hell

"The gates of death are ever open.

"To climb back out again, that's the difficulty."

It's a touch dark, my love, but never mind.

She lost her husband, you know.

Best get your sister gone.
I told you it was a mistake to let her come.

I had to let her come.
It would look odd if she wasn't here.

Speak to Evander, will you?

Butcher man, time to take your wife home.

- She doesn't want to go.
- Best make her go then, eh?

- Time to go.
- Not yet.

- I like it here.
- Time to go.

- Let me go, my love.
- Lyde, please.

Let me go or I'll tell our brave soldier
such a good tale.

Kill us all? Is that what you want?

I love you. Why don't you love me?

I'm sorry.

- Lyde, please.
- I'm your wife.

We had an agreement!
You vowed to Persephone.

- You vowed you would hold your peace!
- Have I not held my peace?

- If my husband...
- Your husband? Your husband is a blind fool!

Do you hear me? He's a blind fool!

Get off me!

Get off me!

Wife?

Caecilia.

Tell me, how is Caecilia?

- She's healthy, I thank you.
- Good.

I recall, I forgot her last birthday.

- Her birthday?
- Remiss of me.

Perhaps she would forgive my rudeness
were I to send her a gift.

Really, that's not necessary.

Hard to find the right gift for a woman.

What one loves, another scorns.

Perhaps she would accept some money.

There's an idea.

100,000 sesterces, say?

That's very kind of you.

I'm afraid my wife is
a woman of expensive tastes.

- The best women often are.
- 150,000.

She would dress her slaves in silk
if I would let her.

She eats oysters for breakfast... daily.

She should be most careful.

People often choke on oysters.

200,000.

That is a very generous,
and I may say, appropriate gift.

She would be under great obligation to you.

To think well of me is her only obligation.

She's always thought well of you.

It is not unethical she continue to do so.

We understand each other.

Make a note of it.

200 to the Chief Augur.

Thinks he's Midas, the loon.

- Go past the cloth works.
- Thank you very much.

We'll go to the priests of Janus tomorrow
and have the day absolved. It's costly, but...

An omen is an omen. And this is as bad as
they come. No point throwing money at it.

Your sister and her husband
can never come here again.

- As you say.
- Must not bend.

Salve, pleb.

Centurion Lucius Vorenus?

- Who asks?
- His honor Quintus Pompey.

You best have reason for this insult.

Tell me where the gold is,
and quick about it, dog.

What gold? Speak sense.

- Sense enough?
- Not near.

- I ask again, what gold?
- Stubborn, is he?

This trollop, we can assume, is your wife.

Hold her.

I cannot speak what I do not know.
I do not know of any gold.

You know very well I seek the treasury gold
you took from my father's men.

I took no gold from any man.
You are misinformed.

Misinformed.

You are not chief of scouts, 13th legion?

- I was.
- And last week,

did you not stop a grain wagon
on the Via Flaminia?

We did.

Driven by soldiers disguised.

We chased the soldiers and left the wagon.

- You never thought to look inside?
- There was no time. We had orders.

Your wagon is still there, for all I know.

Lies. Cut her.

- Come on, give it to me!
- Boys, a clamor for my beloved friend Lucius.

Why so glum and gloomy?

- Who's this, then?
- His noble honor Quintus Pompey,

commander of Tyrrhenian fleet,
Neptune's scourge.

Neptune's scourge.

Looking for a wagon of treasury gold.

Treasury gold?

How exciting!

Do not test my patience, peasant.

You be off now, short-arse.
Take these scum with you.

The way I see it, we put little Quintus here
in the Tiber right off,

get us a wagon,
sneak out to where the gold's buried.

Dig it up, ride like
Zephyrus for the coast,

- and get the first tide to Spain.
- I'm trying to think.

- What was wrong with that?
- What's wrong?

Even if it were not a monstrous sin

- to steal sacred property of Rome...
- I wasn't to know, was I?

...you then ride through the streets on a litter,

shouting and singing
and broadcasting your theft to all and sundry.

By sunrise, all of Rome
will know what you did and where you are.

Here, in my house.

So what's to be done, then?

You will have to give it back.

If you go to Caesar now,

bring him Pompey's son
as a sweetener, he might show mercy.

- Give it back? I don't think so.
- That's not advice. That's an order.

Here's me come to share a god-sent gift...

An order!

Damn you. My home was invaded

and my wife near killed on your account.

All right.

- But you'll come with me?
- This is your mess.

You get yourself out of it.

Fine, then.

I'll be off, then.

Good luck to you, sir.

Forgive me. I will try to return swiftly.

Excuse me, my dear.

Pullo, you scoundrel.

- What have you done now?

Your honor, Lucius Vorenus
said I should come to you and...

Easy, soldier. Who is this?

Quintus, son of Pompey.

So it is!

Quintus, my old cock,

how good to see you so.

Explain.

Well, it's like this, your honor.

He, this one, come to find the gold.

What gold?

The gold that Pompey's boys stole
from the treasury, sir.

- Pompey does not have it?
- He doesn't, sir.

Now, I meant no disrespect,

and had I known the gold
was from the treasury, I'd not have touched it.

- But there was this girl here, sir...
- Never mind her. Speak to the point.

Where is the gold?

It's all safe, sir.

I buried it deep in the woods

couple of miles from the Flaminian gate.

Thank you.

You will pay for this!

- Surely you can do better than that.
- Leave him be.

I'm sorry we meet like this.

I have only deep respect
for your father and his family.

Kiss my arse, you traitorous dog.

Elegant little fellow, isn't he?

You need not fear.
Your life is yours still.

I'm sending you back to your father
with an offer of truce.

- A truce?
- Quiet.

Are you run mad?

When we have them
on their backs in the sand?

Be quiet.

An offer of equable truce on good terms.

If violence continues, it will not be my doing,
but that of your father and his allies.

My father needs no truce.

Two full moons will see you
on a spike in the Forum.

- You wretch!
- Put him on a horse.

You naughty woman.

Never told me
Caesar had such a passion for you.

Not so.

I saw the way he looked at you.

Like the bull that tupped Europa.

I can't blame him.

Such...

beauty.

Such beauty.

Too kind.

Far too kind.

Caesar has no inclination to me.

Nor I to him.

And such modesty.

Is she not beautiful, Calpurnia?

She has none of the goatishness
one normally sees in women her age.

She has some secret potion, perhaps.

You are attempting levity, I believe.

Forgive me if I do not indulge in such talk.

You're sure to regret letting that one live.
He has a malevolent spirit.

There's many left undead
I'll regret before I'm done.

Take Pullo and retrieve the gold.

Legionary Pullo.

You are a thief. A foolish, incompetent thief.

But you have served us well in the past.

So we will pretend your foolishness
is a species of honesty,

and let you go unpunished.

In fact, I think we shall reward you.

I do not like to quarrel with Fortune,

and clearly she's taken you for a pet.

When you find the trove,
give him 100 gold pieces.

Thank you, sir.

As you wish.

By the by, Antony,
never question my judgment

in the presence of our enemies.

You have a good memory,
so you will remember that.

- I will remember.
- Dismiss.

Men, horses!

- Quick about it!
- Forward!

Why do you frown, little owl?

Mark Antony speaks sense.

Truce now does not seem tactically correct.

Depends on terms.

You offer terms that Pompey cannot accept

but Cicero and the Senate can.

Swift...

Hold up, dominus, there's people watching.

Sir, take us somewhere none can see us.

What's in him? Is he poisoned?

He has the morbus comitialis. It will pass.

Please, dominus, shut the door.

- Should we not fetch a doctor?
- We should not.

At all costs,
he cannot have his affliction known.

No one will follow a man
whom Apollo has cursed with the morbus.

Vow to Orcus, never speak of this.

Are you quite well, husband?

Nothing serious.

Come.

Atia, I'm growing tired.
I think we shall leave you.

Oh, well.

- As you wish, of course.
- Good night, my dear.

- Did you have a pleasant evening?
- I did.

Your niece Atia is most polite,

and the Chief Augur made
many edifying remarks on religion.

I regret I will not be coming home
with you immediately.

- But you're not well.
- Really, I am quite recovered.

I have urgent business
with my marsupial clerks.

Business at night? It is not proper.

Not proper, but necessary.

I have to be ready to leave the city and
pursue Pompey as soon as he refuses truce.

He will refuse?

I believe so.

What's wrong, Mother?

I'm alone.

I'm all alone.

- What does he say?
- Ridiculous!

- What does he say?
- Nothing. Nothing worth repeating.

- But he offers a truce.
- On what terms?

Truce with that scum?
Are you women?

- I will have them raped by dogs!
- Silence. Get out!

Excuse him. He's been ill-used.
But he is right. There can be no truce.

- Of course not.
- But Caesar does not ask for so much.

- Legal immunity. Mutual disarmament.
- I must disarm? I?

I am lawful consul of Rome. He is a criminal.
There is nothing mutual in it.

He may be a criminal, but he has the city.

- We must deal with the facts.
- Fact is, he is a traitor!

Let us be fair.

Consul, he has been remarkably peaceable.

He has not killed your allies
or violated your property.

We should look on this offer seriously.

Do you not see his stratagem?
He is trying to drive a wedge between us.

- Perhaps so.
- A truce would buy us time at least.

Quintus is right! You are women!

Fools.

Tell me you love him.
Tell me that and I will go away

and I will never come back.

I love him.

On the souls of my children, I love him.

Titus Pullo, what joy!

- They let you go alive, then?
- They did.

Where's Vorenus?

He's gone to make amends
at the shrine of Janus.

You know Evander Pulchio,
my sister's husband.

Evander, you say?

- Good health, soldier.
- And you.

- Will you take water?
- I will.

Sit you down.

Great Jupiter, graciously give us clear signs

within the bounds I have traced.

The auguries are good.