Spartacus: Blood and Sand s03e09 Episode Script

You would have us march to our end? I would have us free.
With or without you I shall march upon Rome.
You were slave to Marcus Crassus himself? I was.
Why would she risk all to fly from loving arms? Tomorrow we move for Rome with Crixus.
Yet I would have you take with Spartacus.
My place is forever with you.
Not in this.
The whore Canthara tells of how she saw you come from Kore's tent.
Game is over boy.
Take it like a woman.
Rome at last lies within our grasp! One fucking hare between us? Lower voice.
I do not tremble in the dark as frightened child, Carry torch forward! Time next, you carry bow.
Too far from fucking blood.
Strip them of weapons and armor and what supplies they yet carry.
These men travel from the north.
What purpose would Crassus have there? Those who follow him are known by mark of the bull.
These are not his men.
The Eagle and the Dolphin.
I have laid eyes upon crest before.
The mark of Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus.
Pompey? A master of both land and sea.
My husband spoke with deep admiration of the man.
Bending tongue to welcome him as Rome's greatest warrior-- I have heard tale of his conquests.
And name of Adolescent Butcher given him.
We shall butcher bird and fish! I thought Pompey mired in Hispania against the renegade Sertorius.
His absence the reason Crassus took arms against us.
If Pompey's scouts return to the Republic, as night follows day, the man and his legions will trail their shadow.
Spartacus.
A rider approaches.
This may hold but distraction! Give voice if eyes fall upon movement upon flanks! They wear cloak of the fucking legion.
That is no Roman.
Drink.
Do not waste such on the dead.
You yet live.
I a but pale shade, haunting a world fallen from meaning.
Then we must nourish specter, so that it may reclaim flesh and promise of better days.
There stand none upon horizon.
Was his end as he had always dreamed? In glorious battle? In battle, yes.
Though robbed of glory.
Tell of it.
That we may share in the burden of grief.
The days after we parted were filled with victory.
The blood of our enemies turning fields to crimson mud, thick with the dead.
Rome lay within our grasp.
Only to have it snatched from us by Crassus and his legions.
It was the man himself that robbed Crixus' life? Crixus! Crixus was engaged by the traitor Caesar.
When boy of scant years pierced back with spear.
A fucking boy.
What o Agron? Does he share fate with Crixus? Or is he yet of this world? There is but single reason Crassus spare my life.
To taunt Spartacus with vision of his end.
Crassus tempts to goad you into foolish action.
If I stood only for my own life, perhaps I would stand so moved.
Yet we must turn from such thoughts, and set purpose towards more pressing concern.
Pompey.
His scouts were headed south, towards Crassus' legions.
He will send more, when they do not return.
We cannot afford to be caught between two armies, fighting as one.
No.
We cannot.
None among the Gaul's men form words of note? We have set lash and heated iron towards the loosening of tongues.
I shall press until one unmoors from stubborn tether.
Or command all torn from rebellious root.
I have time nor patience to pause for such distraction.
Give word to break encampment as Apollo approaches eastern sky.
I would quicken pace.
There is a matter of some small concern within the followers' camp.
A whore by the name of Canthara, discovered beaten and slitas pig from womanhood to throat.
Canthara? What do you know of this, Caesar? News only now falls upon ear.
I have been seeking the woman for several days.
Whoever she angered, his wrath is a thing to be feared.
Followers' camp is but brief step from our very ranks.
I would not have it fall to chaos and murder.
I shall personally attend to matter.
May those responsible suffer equal fate.
Imperator.
Two soldiers approach on horseback, bearing crest of Pompey.
The butcher at last reveals himself.
See them to my praetorium.
Proconsul Gnaeu Pompeius Magnus offers support in campaign against the rebel Spartacus.
Offer greeted with wondrous surprise.
I've never known Pompey to support any cause but his own interests.
Apologies.
I but carry message.
Hmmm, see remainder fall from tongue.
Pompey requests meeting.
Why does he not appear before us himself, if taken by such desire? Because he does not stand the fool.
Does he? I will not risk journey.
Nor will I break from my charge to bow and scrap before imagined titan.
Pompey seeks but neutral ground.
Twenty men attending him, to be met in kind.
I will consider terms.
See them to food and wine.
Imperator.
You cannot seriously be turning offer upon mind? Pompey but seeks your knowledge of Spartacus so that he may snatch victory from deserving hands.
Caesar, you agree, do you not? I share your concerns.
Yet Pompey returns the hero against Sertorius, ripe with laurels.
To refuse offer would be considered insult.
One that could be set against you within the Senate.
To shit with the Senate.
There is practical reason as well to accept terms.
We could press attack from the south, Pompey could stay Spartacus from gaining the mountains and slipping from grasp.
With all who follow him.
A thing I would not see come to pass.
Father, you cannot go.
It would appear Pompey commands you.
Again, I share concern.
You should give no impression that you are beneath him.
Instead send honored name in your place to broach negotiation.
And I suppose such name holds letters forming "Caesar"? No.
Only the Imperator's Word and Will holds such lofty position.
Pompey stands shrewd opponent.
I would have one of more seasoned years to set against him.
Tiberius has proven himself worthy advisory.
His youth will but cause Pompey to lower his guard, to deepest regret.
Caesar at last breaks words that I am moved to embrace.
We shall pause advance until your return.
Weigh Pompey's true intent yet give upon no issue.
I shall stand as my father, unforgiving in command.
Was it so short a span, when he stood uncertain boy? Such days have faded from memory.
He stands a man now.
And I wish for him all that he deserves.
You were slave to Marcus Crassus? The one that slipped from him upon Melia Ridge? I have heard rumor.
That he was of a favor towards you.
There stood such a time.
Then you were of a closeness to him.
Before you fled.
I shared his tent that night.
I took knife and slipped from presence while he slept.
Why did you not seize opportunity? And end his life? If Crassus had fallen that night, Then Crixus would yet be of this world.
I am moved by your loss.
Yet I cannot be held for it.
We are all held for our actions.
The choices we make.
The things that we do.
And those that we should have.
We cannot reverse the sun.
Nor relive days past.
No.
We can but brace against uncertain future.
And when moment presents, balance scale against those who have most deeply wounded heart.
Inform Pompey of my arrival.
Stay at my side.
If the man makes but slightest move, unleash sword.
Let us break words with your commander.
And divine his intent.
He stands most eager to greet you.
Honored Pompey.
My father sends regret that he could not -- The regret is mine.
I had hoped to embrace the Imperator himself.
Yet fate delivers mere shadow of the name Crassus.
Is this the blade? The one that robbed Crixus of his life? See the boy's men bound and readied for march.
Get up! You would keep them alive? I would see them give honor to the dead.
In advance of joining their ranks.
You will have no need of that.
I had no hand in Canthara's fate.
The one who commanded her so rudely from this world will never again cause harm.
You know the animal that took her life? A bleating sheep who mistook himself as fearsome wolf.
Maneuvered towards deserved slaughter.
I would give all to lay eyes upon his suffering.
Let us take comfort in thoughts of blood.
And the warmth of flesh, yet among the living What of Crassus? Plan to lure him to his doom falls short of mark.
Stay your hand! I would not have the boy and his men fall to errant wrath! Their blood is to serve higher purpose! Games? To honor the fallen.
And give comfort to those left in death's wake.
I have seen this before.
In Crixus' hands.
And the boy's upon field of battle as it His name is Tiberius.
He is the son of Marcus Crassus.
He stands prisoner with a clutch of his soldiers.
I will have his fucking life.
The reason he yet clings to it.
Let us build pyre and gather around imagined sands of storied arena.
To bear solemn witness to the clash of sword and shield.
And pay final tribute to the Undefeated Gaul.
Who shall forever stand so in my eyes.
There was a time not along ago when he turned from you.
A thing I moved him towards.
The past is seldom as we would have it.
The future yet to be known.
Embrace the present, and strike all else from concern.
Let us have your games.
Each drop of Roman blood spilled in honor of those taken from us.
Die Roman dog! I know this one.
Agron.
From the lands east of the Rhine.
A savage people, holding no trust even among their own kind.
This one is of a difference.
A gladiator standing beside Spartacus in valued position, the Celt Gannicus and the fallen Gaul his only equals.
Has he given voice? Only to rude curse, Imperator.
There is yet more upon tongue, you fucking cunts More dead than living, yet still conjures breath toward insult.
I would care to own gladiators such as this, and turn hard men toward harder purpose.
As I would see this one softened.
Nail him to cross stand warning to all who refuse to break proper word.
I shall yet have your fucking head.
An impressive feat, For one who will never again grasp sword Would that all who follow Spartacus shared like fate.
Imperator.
An envoy from Pompey has arrived.
What of Tiberius? He does not stand among them.
Imperator Crassus.
I carry message from Proconsul Pompeius-- Where is my son? Your son? Dispatched with two of your reflection to break word with your commander.
Apologies, I know nothing of your son, nor others sent to you in my place.
I am sole envoy-- They stood before me bearing fucking mark of Pompey! Other messengers were dispatched.
Yet not to you.
Have any failed to report? A clutch of men, heading south towards Latium.
Leave us.
They were Spartacus' men, posing as Pompey's.
You can not know this -- You should have! You stood among the rebels in Sinuessa! There were thousands within the city.
Fortune would be most kind for me to know the one that presented himself.
Gods rain shit upon us.
Yet is it not blessing, that they stayed you from being ensnared in clever plot? If the Imperator were to fall to Spartacus -- We do not know that Tiberius has fallen.
He carries the name of Crassus.
And with him the worth of the world towards bargain.
You believe him alive? As any father would, absent eyes laid upon lifeless form.
Then we must pray towards proper outcome, and wait for Spartacus to return-- I will not stand idle while my son's life dangles by fraying thread.
We know which direction Spartacus heads.
A few men fleet upon horse could overtake him and broach trade.
Spartacus will kill you upon sight, regardless of cost.
I shall set Rufus towards task.
I would place trust in someone with greater knowledge of Spartacus and his horde.
Someone who's lived among them, and knows of their treacherous ways.
You would send me to my death.
They will not lay hand upon you.
We hold something I'm certain Spartacus desires.
And if you are in error? Then I shall mourn your passing as well.
Fucking shits.
I hold share of blame.
I latched upon bait lured with praise and paternal pride.
He must have known they stood Spartacus' men, draped in false mantle.
Do not raise weapon when called upon.
We will not give entertainment in our deaths.
Remember that we are Romans, and they nothing but slaves.
Yet you are the one in chains.
A heavy thing, is it not? To be so condemned to the whims of a master? You were never placed in chains.
You forged them with your own hands.
Each unseen link binding heart forcing me from the arms of your father.
See me from these chains, and I shall return you to them.
His heart still beats for you, Kore.
Despite all that has happened.
He still hold love for me? And would move the heavens to regain you.
I have not dared to hope such a thing.
Gratitude.
Know that I shall return at night fall.
When it is your time to die.
A thing I long to lay eyes upon.
It's been a lifetime since I last stood gladiator.
Title and purpose I never desired.
Rome forced such upon me and many of my brothers.
And this night we shall return favor! Let us show the son of Crassus and his men what we have learned beneath the heel of their mighty Republic.
And in such lesson, honor the dead with Roman blood! I would know what challenge you present.
Absent legions to give aid, as they did against Crixus and Agron.
Begin! I am a Roman! I will not fight for your fucking entertainment -- You will fight, or fall where you stand! If a single Roman lacks courage enough to face me send two to brace nerve! I have never laid eyes upon the games.
They are but dim reflection of their glory.
You speak as if heart yearns for such days.
To return to shackle and lash, no.
To stand upon the sands again To know a clear purpose of who you are and what must be done That is a thing that calls to all of my kind.
I would have more blood, to honor my brother Crixus and all who have followed him to the afterlife! Gannicus! Take position! Two Romans seem to deliver no contest! Send three, so that I may deliver proper tribute! Gannicus seeks to best you? Gladiators seek to best all.
It is the only way to survive in the arena.
Gannicus stands the only among us to win his freedom upon the sands.
If free, why does he raise arms with the slaves against the Republic? He took up cause to honor a fallen brother.
One that taught us the ways of battle and the bond that joins all men in such pursuit.
It holds difficulty? To see one of your people fall? They no longer stand as such.
I have been cast from the Republic, thought towards loss or suffering.
I may flinch from gory sight yet know that I revel in its meaning.
Would that you stood a thousand men.
Your deaths by my hand worthy of Agron's memory.
You stand prepared for final contest? Crixus once boasted of his prowess as a gladiator, in first words he ever broke with me.
I said I did not favor the games Now they are all that I long for.
You're certain that's him? Do not lower guard.
Who do you speak of? One I long to greet.
I offer fair trade! Five hundred of your men taken in battle against Crixus for Tiberius' life -- Hold! I would hear of this-- He lives then? The boy? Perhaps.
For yet a moment.
Tell me you do not fall prey to this viper's tongue? The words they form are not my own.
Do not think me the fool to greet you with willful fucking intent.
Crassus would offer such a bargain? He would offer Jupiter's throne in return for festering disease that sprung from noble loins.
He but attempts to draw us into another plot turning upon itself.
He attempts nothing! The man is of singular mind.
One I do not fucking share, Five hundred? Take my life as I know you desire And end theirs as well.
Fuck the gods.
You honored Agron well.
As you shall honor Crixus.
For you! I would have my sword returned to me, slave.
You claim the sword as your own? The way it fits hand, I thought it forged for woman or sickly child.
Do you yet consider me sickly child? I find you more than expected.
Gratitude.
I held worries you would die to quickly.
I will have your life As I took the fucking Gaul's -- I would see blade returned to you now.
Naevia! Take pause.
Crassus offers trade! His son's life for five hundred captured in battle with Crixus! Another Roman lie! I do not believe it so.
Yet I lay choice with the one most wronged by the boy.
I held your life in my hands.
Live each moment knowing that one day soon I shall reclaim it.
Kill them! Fucking kill him! Fucking kill him! Delivered into hands, as agreed upon.
I would break words.
He has been too long from embrace.
It lifts heart.
To see you yet of this world.
Do not ply me with silver tongue.
You knew them to be Spartacus' men, under guise of Pompey's.
A bold claim.
Well one my father will surely take interest in.
The journey to return you to his arms is fraught with peril.
For one needing to be taught severest lesson in who towers above you No! You mad bitch.
Do you know what you have done? I have balanced fucking scale.
Five hundred of our people will suffer for this.
The boy holds no value now.
Nor does life of Caesar.
Wait! Crassus will yet honor trade! If you give him something else his heart desires.
He was struck down by hand of rebel slave, as we attempted to withdraw from Spartacus' camp.
A man long of years, the scars of his master etched deep upon flesh.
And yet you held to fucking bargain? I knew wound such loss would cause.
I sought only to balm it with opportunity presented Gratitude, Gaius.
You now stand my Word and my Will.
You honor me.
Prepare the men for march.
I would press towards Spartacus and see him to deserved end.
Imperator.
Raise eyes.
Marcus-- From this day forth you shall address me as Dominus.
Would that those we held to heart stood among them.
Nasir The gods return you to my arms.
I was fool to ever leave them.
This night hearts lift in joyous reunion with those thought lost to us.
Fathers.
Brothers and sisters.
Sons and lovers.
Hold them close for the shadow of Rome is upon us.
We hall seek our destiny together.
Whatever the cost.
Yet let us not pass from memory those left absent from our arms.
Those who sacrificed their lives so that all may live free.
For Crixus! For Sura.
For Varro and Mira! For Oenomaus! For Diotimus! For Rhaskos.
For Sanus! Donar! For Duro! For Aca.
Fortis! Varca! Nemetes! Liscus! For Crixus! Crixus! Crixus Split heavens with the sound of his name! Let it carry to Crassus and Pompey as distant thunder promising storm and blood! All those who are able shall make final stand against Rome.
And this I promise you.
We will live free or join our brothers in death!