Spartacus: Blood and Sand s03e07 Episode Script

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.
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.
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.
You are still of this world.
Yet 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.