Caesar is dead and Marc Antony is in trouble. Well, he would appear to be, but since the dude is made of some kind of ancient Roman Teflon, he escapes multiple attempts on his life while barely breaking a sweat. Brutus is a little shaken up from his role in murdering Caesar, but Mommy Dearest, Servilia, has his back. Meanwhile, Vorenus hasn't even heard about any of this. He goes to his dead wife, Niobe, who he was going to kill himself before she beat him to it, and clutches her to him, covering himself -- not for the last time in this episode -- in blood. His children arrive to see the deed done and he lays a curse on them all. As if he wasn't already looney enough, when he finds out that Caesar is dead, he goes all the way around the bend. Poor Vorenus: the Eeyore of Rome. Antony gets bitchy and first forms a plan to leave the city with Atia's family and Calpurnia and raise an army to come back and destroy his enemies. Calpurnia refuses, however, and insists that Antony stay to hear Caesar's will read. The will declares Octavian his sole heir, and though it means nothing since Caesar's killers will ignore it, Octavian forms a plan to stay in Rome and work out a deal with Brutus and the Gang. Antony convinces them that if Caesar is declared a tyrant, all his appointments will be null and void, thus all the senators will lose their posts and have no power. But, if they declare his death natural, everyone gets to stay in charge and no elections will have to be held. They reluctantly agree, which they later regret when gives a rousing speech at the funeral and makes them leave the city. Pullo gives Eirene a "sorry 'bout that" apology for killing her man, and cheerily asks her to marry him. She accepts, especially when he promises "I won't beat you, or anything." The two of them go to help Vorenus, who is a mess. Apparently, Erastus has taken his children, violated them, and killed them. Wrong move, on his part. Vorenus and Pullo killâ¦everybody in his house, and finish him off, good and proper.
Previously on Rome...oh, I don't know, modern culture was created and the fabric of the artistic and religious rituals to which we still adhere was formed? Something like that. Read the recaps! Dang, people, time you see me volunteering to sub in for someone in their time of recapping need, please make sure it's for a show about modeling and hair weaves. M. Giant did me a good turn a while back, filling in on a Gilmore Girls recap, so I had to repay the favor. Plus, I must say, there are really few finer human beings than ol' M.G. He and his lovely wife once sent me unexpected beers in a dark and desperate hour, thus putting me in their debt for eternity. But speaking of eternity, is it just me or did this episode of a show about a bunch of dudes running around in bloody togas just last nearly a full hour with no commercials? I thought I was pretty tough, really, having recapped Deadwood for three seasons of florid, foul dialogue and historical rigamarole, but this stuff nearly killed me. It wasn't so much that I didn't understand the words coming out of their mouths, it was that...no, that's what it was.
So, you heard, I guess, that Brutus and the Gang stabbed and killed your boy, Caesar, right? Yes. And they were very clever about it, too, keeping Marc Antony off the scene so that he would not be able to protect Caesar from his fate. The thing is, I guess they suspected that Antony might be pissed, so as he now emerges from seeing his dead leader in the Senate, Pompey's goons leap upon him, thinking they're going to tie up a loose end. Except, HELL NAW, Antony is not going down like that. He whips his robe into their faces and runs like the wind.
Brutus has somehow made it home after his hard day of murdering, shaken and shaking. As he trembles, cleaning Caesar's blood off his hands, Servilia comes in to congratulate him. "Our name is redeemed," she says, full-on Mommie Dearest. "The Republic is saved!" Brutus is not seeing it that way, nearly choking, "It was horrible, Mother. He wouldn't die. He tried to speak to me; no words came out." Servilia creepily whispers that now is the time to be strong, and reminds Brutus, clutching his quaking wrist, that "the people will need a firm hand." Brutus ain't looking so good.
Poor Posca, alone, weeps over Caesar's body on the floor of the Senate, and covers the dead man's face.
Also weeping: the Charlie-Browniest bastard in the Roman empire, Vorenus. Why? Because he went to kill his gorgeous wife, whereupon she immediately killed herself...and then he got sad because she was dead. And, oh, he is sad. He kneels over her body, sobbing, until he realizes he is being watched. Little Lucius stands silently by, gazing at Vorenus with his big mournful eyes. Vorenus staggers over to the child, staring at him like he isn't real. "Who are you?" he demands, desperately, grabbing the boy's face. "Whose child is this?!" he cries, and just before he's about to get really crazy, his daughters and their aunt arrive in the courtyard. When Vorena tries to protect the little boy, her father smacks her down to the ground. "I curse you," he spits. "I curse you all to damnation!" With that, the fool lurches into the streets, his face covered with blood, leaving his family to wail over Niobe. Now, Vorenus is out of it, but when he sees the people of the city rushing around calling out about the death of Caesar, two and two are starting to add up to five. Somethin' ain't right. It's all too much for him, and he falls to the pavement in shock.
Atia is reigning supreme as the drama queen, crying over the death of her uncle, snubbing Octavian, who turns instead to offer his cold comfort (not like that!) to his sister. "Gods, not you, as well," he says, seeing Octavia with her head in her hands. "Crying will not help us." But no, she's is not crying, she's angry: "May Dis devour that bitch-pig Servilia!" She's strongly regretting ever telling Servilia about Lucius's true origins, as she has now figured out that Servilia used that info to get Vorenus away from the Big Man when it was time for that whole stabby thing to happen. Octavius sympathizes, but tells her that they must never speak of their part in that little game of Telephone ever again, lest they be suspected of being in on the murder. "I will see her eaten by dogs," Octavia adds, just for good measure, and her brother nods, snarking out the ancient Roman equivalent of "I heard that." They are interrupted by Timon, who obviously thinks he is sweeping in to save the day. Barely managing to conceal his heroic hard-on (pardon me), he asks to see Atia. Clearly disgusted, Octavian tries to say that she is not receiving visitors, being so distraught by Caesar's death. This might have worked were his mother not the direct, attention-whoring ancestor of Paris Hilton. Atia floats dramatically from her chamber, reminding me powerfully of Joan Collins in her most sequined prime. With Timon, Atia begins making plans to flee the city, despite her children's protests that they should wait for Antony. Timon has to concentrate to keep from rolling his eyes, and anyway, Atia is sure Antony is dead; she sniffs, "If [he] were alive, he would come to me, or send word at least." Octavian argues in vain that his mother is horrible at hiding, and that to run now would open them to Servilia's threat. Just as Atia is working up a good scoff at this, Antony arrives, panting and sweating, having run for his life. Timon's face visibly falls. Shot down, again!
Moments later, having bathed, Antony emerges from his Spartacuzzi in a blue rage: "I swear upon the black stone that I will kill them all!" He wraps himself in a towel, adding, "Brutus, and Cassius, and Casca and the whole damn lot of them!" Atia says that those guys are just Servilia's pawns doing her bidding. "I told Caesar this would happen," she adds, thinking, of course, that Antony is talking about avenging the emperor's death. Antony, however, is far more pissed that those jags just tried to kill him. "Are you certain -- sure -- [Caesar's] dead?" Atia asks, trying to bring him back around to the subject at hand. "Oh, yeah," Antony says, remembering. "He's dead all right. I was there; I saw him!" Atia goes pale. "You were there?" she whispers. "Then why didn't you stop them?" Antony sighs. Won't anybody give him a damn break today? "I wasn't there," he amends, and explains how he was delayed on the steps and how, by the way, that bastard Vorenus must have been paid off, because he wasn't there, either. Atia reveals the truth about that detail: Vorenus was lured away by Servilia's servant with the story about Niobe. All true, but I think we've now covered this information THREE times, right? The only reason I am still looking at the screen is because of Marc Antony who, please forgive me for saying so, is as smoking hot as an exploding Roman candle. Sure. I said it. Antony is surprised by this news of Vorenus, but shrugs it off. When Atia says that she, herself, would have ripped Caesar's killers apart with her bare hands, Antony openly derides her: "You know nothing of violence. Twelve mangy dogs can kill a lion." I'll remember that the time I'm trapped in the jungle. Atia asks what they're going to do now, but Antony can't keep his foot out of his mouth long enough to form a plan. "You can do as you like," he flips, adding that he will be going north to build and army of monsters with which he will return and slay his enemies. You lost her at "you can do as you like," dude. Atia gives him the full force of her menacing eyebrow, snitting, "What do you mean, I may do as I like?" He sighs again. The two-narcissist relationship is a difficult dynamic, indeed. Can you imagine the fights at Brangelina's house? Antony sighs the sigh of the put-upon gigolo. What he meant was that he wants her to come with him, but that he can't force her. She ain't buying it, though: "That's where you were these last hours, I suppose -- putting your whores into baggage carts!" Kids, you've lost the plot -- Caesar, the center of both your universes, was just murdered like, an hour ago. This must also occur to Antony, who finally gets in Atia's face, saying that he has no stomach for a fight with her right now. Now she sighs. Morose, she says she knows. It's just that she doesn't want to go north. She gives him the puppy eyes: "North is ghastly."
Well, too bad. Mere seconds later, Antony is commanding Timon to gather up the family and head north. Poor Timon. His plan to be Atia's hero is now dashed by Studly Jones over here, and he must fall back on his mercenary personality. "It'll cost you," he tells Antony. "Of course," Antony responds. "I expect no public service from a Jew." Ugh. My hot boyfriend is seeming less hot as the minutes pass. Everyone else agrees with me, especially when Antony says that they'll be taking Calpurnia with them as they leave the city. "We cannot leave Caesar's widow behind," he tells a protesting Atia. "It would look ill with the people, like we'd abandoned her." Since Atia would no doubt like nothing more than to do just that, she can only roll her eyes. "What a bore," she says.
Meanwhile, crazy Vorenus is all looned out on the street when an enterprising team of thieves consisting of a dirty kid and an old guy come upon him. "Father," Vorenus begs from his haze of grief, "wake me." The old man promises -- on the fire of Vesta, no less -- to help him, but actually just head-butts ol' Sad Dad and robs his ass, giving him his second face full of blood for the day.
In a lovely meadow, Pullo, unaware that any of this Caesar stuff has even gone down, is having a nice little picnic with Eirene. I guess he feels it's the least he can do, having murdered her one true love. "I know I didn't get us started off on the right foot," he says, "killing your man and all. And I'm sorry for that." Eirene, for whatever reason, refrains from stabbing him, even when he goes on to propose to her. "Sorry I brutally slayed the guy you wanted to marry, so how's about marrying me, his killer, instead? Whaddya say?" "Your wife?" Eirene asks Pullo, open-mouthed, adding a bit of a I Dream Of Jeannie mood when she answers, "If you wish it, so, Master." No, no, Pullo says, he's not her master anymore. She's so free, she doesn't even have to say yes to his proposal, he says. "I won't beat you, or anything," he assures her, and goes on to say that if she accepts, he can pretty much give her anything she wants: clothes, a house, shoes. Well, if shoes are on the table, of course she's going to say yes. And, indeed, she does. Pullo -- who, let's go on and say it, is also fairly hot stuff with, you know, the whole big, strong, killing machine thing he's got going on -- claps his hands like a giddy schoolboy. "You won't regret it, I promise," he says, as if he has just sold her a used car. Getting serious for a moment, he picks up some mud from the ground and...smears it on Eirene's forehead. Then he smears some on his. "Done," he declares, and shit, if my mother sees that and realizes how much money she blew on my wedding when the whole thing could have just as well been accomplished with two dirt smears, I will be in trouble.
Over at the palace, or whatever it's called, Caesar lies in state. Calpurnia stands by while some women chant and pray in the background. Stepping aside, she motions over a young woman who...now, stay with me, here, and let me see if I can say this without sounding insane...bares her breast, lowers it to Caesar's dead face, and squeezes breastmilk into his mouth. What? I know. Doesn't that sound like I'm telling you about the craziest dream I had last night? "Dude, then suddenly I was in my house, but it wasn't my house, and my second-grade teacher was shooting breastmilk in my face." Well, wait, that makes it sound like porn and that is not what I was going for, really. Look, I tried to find a reference for it somewhere on the internet, but Google is throwing back stuff I can't mention in polite company, so you are on your own on this one. Calpurnia's quiet grieving is interrupted by Antony, who has brought Atia and the Octaves. "How good of you to come," Calpurnia says, a little out of it. She remarks that no one else has been there to pay respects, and she can't imagine why. "They are afraid," Octavian drones, and all are distracted by Atia's dramatic draping of herself over Caesar's body. Antony tells Calpurnia that they'll be leaving, and that it would not be safe for her to stay behind. "Well, that's no matter," she says. "I'm glad to die." As well, she adds, since Antony and the family are all there, they need to read Caesar's will. Antony doesn't like the sound of this, and tries to avoid it: "We haven't time." But Calpurnia insists. Antony tries again to deny her, but come on. Don't mess with a crazy redhead in crisis.
Moments later, Posca reads the will. Aside from the 75 denarii to be given to every enrolled citizen in the republic -- "Augh! What a waste," Atia moans -- everything is going to Octavian, who will, henceforth, be known as Caesar's son and sole heir. Antony can barely conceal his disappointment, while Atia, of course, can barely contain her glee. "Congratulations, boy," Antony snarks, adding that, in fact, Octavian will most likely get nothing: "It's all wax for scraping. The law is now Brutus and his minions. Caesar's land and money will go to them." The helpful Posca confirms that this is true: "They will declare his death a rightful tyrannicide; his will and all his acts will be null and void; his property will be intestate." Octavian smugly points out that they cannot take his name. "Oh, no," Antony snarks anew. "That's all yours. Much good will it do you." With that, he charges out, telling Atia that they may have to take Calpurnia by force. But hold on, Little Lord Fauntletavian has a new plan since finding out just now that he has inherited everything in the known world. "Mahthah," he says, "I must stay in Rome. I am Caesar's son. I have to protect my status and rights." Antony scoffs: "There's blood. A proper little Spartan." Octavian puffs out his chest and says that his mother will have to stay in town, also. "Oh my strange, brave, pompous little boy," Atia chides him, "we're going north." Octy girds up his loins yet again: "I'm head of the family. Strictly speaking, it's for me to say where we go." Atia has had enough of this nonsense: "I know you're only trying to be manly, and that's lovely, but now is not the time. We are going and there's an end on it." It's sort of like every fight you ever had with your mom in the grocery store, except this one is about ruling the most influential civilization on Earth. The thing is, Octavian has this crazy idea that just might work: he explains -- painstakingly because his mom and Antony both must be convinced that every idea is their own -- that they can possibly convince Brutus and his guys that declaring Caesar a tyrant will actually put them out of work. Though Antony declares it all "lawyer's prattle," and Atia threatens to slap him, Octavian does have a point. If Brutus says that they killed Caesar because he was a tyrant, and declares his will void, he'll also have to declare void every other decision Caesar ever made, including the ones that gave him and his murder squad their jobs. Antony is all for calling shenanigans, but Octavian has one more tactical move: he ices the cake by pointing out that if Atia stays in Rome, she will be the mother of Rome's richest man. If they leave, Servilia has that honor. Ding! That did it. While Antony argues with Posca about knocking Calpurnia over the head to make her leave, Atia makes the decision. "Antony," she says, much to his shock. "We're staying."
Back on the farm, Eirene is still doing her best Barbara Eden impression, calling Pullo "Master" when he offers her a drink. He sighs, reminding her that she doesn't have to call him that anymore. "What shall I call you, then?" she asks, and rather than suggesting such endearments as "My Little Death Muffin," or "Homicidio," or, say, "Stud Killer," he leans toward the old favorites, suggesting "husband" or "honey." Boring! They are interrupted by a rider, flailing into camp crying out that Caesar is dead. Forgive the nitpick, but it's hilarious. This guy had one moment to shine and wasn't going to blow it. "Caesar is dead! Caesar is dead!" he howls, and then adds, just for emphasis: "Caesar...! Is Dead!" Pullo wastes no time. Forgetting that old adage about not shooting the messenger (though I suppose in ancient Rome, no such adage had been invented yet), he shoves the non-essential bit player off his horse, grabs up Eirene, and rides away to the city.
Meanwhile, the Vorenii are cleaning and dressing Niobe's body. Lucius scrubs the blood stain on the ground while the women each keep one eye on the courtyard entrance, worried that ol' Dad will return and start knocking heads again. Little do they know, Vorenus is the least of their troubles.
In any case, he's still passed out in the street.
A much bigger threat looms: Erastes and his hooligans arrive at the Vorenus house, looking menacing.
Back at Servilia's, fey little Cicero arrives to kiss ass. "Immortals," he lauds them, "immortals, I say. You noble men have carved your names deep in the eternal stone." Brutus and Cassius are not moved by his flattery, especially when he faux-snoots that he's disappointed that he wasn't invited to join them in wielding "the liberator's knife." He kisses Brutus's hand before giving them all a brief, solo slow-clap. Cassius updates him about the city -- they have two thousand armed men, he says, and to his knowledge, Caesar's people have fled Rome. The diminutive queen is pleased to hear this, but far less pleased to hear that Antony was left alive: "An error, I think. A deep error." Brutus has the absolute gall blithely to point out that they are Senators, not "hired thugs." Right, right. We only kill for the good of the people. "Kill him yourself," says Brutus, "if you want it so." Cicero nearly knocks himself out trying to backpedal out of there. Whatever Brutus thinks is best to do about Antony is fine with Cicero, he insists; he was just sayin'. Trying to get out before he steps in it any deeper, he claims he must run off to the country for work, and swiftly turns on his sandaled heel...
...which is when he runs smack into Marc Antony. D'oh! "Friend Cicero," Antony suaves. "Why so pale?" Hee. The tiny lawyer nearly swallows his tongue.
Poor Vorenus has returned home to find his wife dressed for the afterlife and his children gone. He is mumbling to himself, gone 'round the bend, when Pullo and Eirene arrive. Pullo nervously asks what has happened, and Vorenus must now recap it YET AGAIN. He found out that Niobe was Lucius's mother; he came to kill her; she did it herself. "Miseria," Eirene whispers, as Pullo asks where the children are. "Gone," Vorenus says. "I cursed them. I cursed them to Hades." Pullo gets an "aw, daaaaang" look on his face, and sends Eirene for water. "Brother Vorenus," he says, trying to calm his friend, "come sit down. Let's get you cleaned up."
Meanwhile, Antony has taken a seat at the Big Baddies' table. They have made Cicero stay to arbitrate their discussion, and he is nearly whiplashed from having to cover his ass with Antony and still stay on Brutus's good side. Obviously, no one cares about Cicero's bullshit. "You have lost a good friend and patron, today," Brutus tells Antony, ever the politician. "We are sorry." Huh? He's asking for bygones? Some nerve, mama's boy. Antony is far more concerned that Cassius's henchman from that morning is in the meeting. "If that monkey stays," says Antony, deadly casual, "I shall have to open his neck. He tried to kill me this morning; his presence is an insult." Brutus shakes his head: "You are mistaken. No one tried to kill you. It was my express order that you be spared." Antony smirks and turns: "Am I, Cassius? Mistaken?" Cassius swallows hard: "We do apologize if this man's been overzealous." He sends the thug from the room while Antony chuckles a "kill ya later" chuckle.
Servilia wants to know what Antony's doing there, and he goes theatrical on their asses. "Listen," he says, dramatically. They all listen to the complete silence. Shouldn't they be hearing the cheering crowds at the door, Antony asks, if everyone hated Caesar so much? Where are the congratulating hordes of thankful citizens? "The people fear change," says Servilia, making excuses. "A somber mood is only natural." Brutus is offended by this conversation. "When they realize they are free from tyranny," he snits, "the people will be glad." Au contraire, says Antony. "The people loved Caesar, and they will hate you for what you've done." Brutus has his back up. He says that the people used to love Caesar as Brutus did himself. Antony shrugs. Fine -- he'll stipulate that Caesar could be a bit of a tyrant sometimes: "But a great many people will worship Caesar until they die. A great many. And those people are mine, now." Cassius blows this off. They don't need such people, he says. They've secured the city and all the best people are with them including, Brutus might add, the Lictor's Guild. Antony all but snickers. Ooo, the Lictor's Guild: "Very good. You need only rally the bakers and the flute players and you can put on a festival! Best wait 'til after the elections, though." Whoops! Brutus and Cassius are thrown. "What elections?" they ask, and Antony raises his eyebrows in mock surprise: "Surely you've thought this through...." He gives them the whole spiel we just heard from Octavian. "Elections will have to be held," he concludes. Cicero reluctantly confirms that that is so. Brutus gets a look of regret on his face as if he's just realized he left the stove on back at home.
Now Antony has the assassins where he wants them. He makes his offer: a general amnesty should be declared, and while the killers won't be tried as killers, neither will Caesar be called a tyrant. Thus, all his acts, including his will, stand as valid: "We shall all keep our posts. It will be as if he was struck by lightning. A natural death." And then? They'll throw a big public funeral, presided over by Antony and Brutus in a show of unity. And then, Antony adds, "I shall serve out the rest of my term as consul and then retire quietly to the provinces, where I shall plow my fields and fuck my slaves. Just like old Cincinnatus. And the republic shall roll on without me!" None of the assassins is stupid enough to believe Antony, even when he swears on the black stone that he is done with politics: "You people play too rough for me." Turning to Brutus, he adds, "Knives in the Senate house. Didn't think you had it in you." Servilia asks what will happen if they chose not to reconcile with Antony. "Well," he replies, "if we cannot be friends, then we should be enemies. And I'll do my very best to annihilate you." This, they believe. Servilia asks for a moment for her team to talk it over. "Talk all you like," Antony smiles, magnanimous. "I shall wait outside."
As soon as Antony's gone, Brutus whips around on Cassius: "You tried to kill him, despite everything I said?" Cassius asks for Brutus's forgiveness, explaining, "Your scruples do you honor. But without your knowledge, his death could not have dishonored you." Brutus spits that, to the contrary, he would then have been twice dishonored as both a killer and a fool. Cicero calmly points out that they could still kill Antony. "I'm simply stating the facts," he remarks, disgusting Brutus. I don't want them to do it, or anything, but even a pantywaist like Brutus should have cottoned on to the real deal, here. Of course they should kill Antony. But since, you know, Brutus considers himself to be such a good guy, he can't do it. "He's too dangerous to live," Cassius argues, but nope. Brutus can't be swayed. Antony, he admits, is a vulgar beast (vulgar and delicious!), but he'll destroy himself soon enough now that Caesar is dead. Plus, Brutus adds, Antony is a guest in his house. "He is not in the house," Servilia points out the technicality. "He is on the street." Brutus turns to her, his eyes heavy with the reality of his new life, and I laugh out loud when he bogarts Caesar's best Shakespearean line: "You, too, Mother?" Good one, HBO.
Outside, Antony waits and stares at Cassius's ruffian, who paces menacingly at the other end of the courtyard. Man, y'all. Antony is a bad-ass. Am I going to have to start watching this show? Brutus emerges, his pride now completely stuffed down. "Consul Antony," says Brutus, struggling to keep from barfing. "We shall be friends." Antony sweeps him into a manly embrace, complete with backslapping, before planting what I must say is a very suggestive smooch on Brutus's cheek. "Friends, eh?" he says, and gives Brutus a brotherly smack on the shoulder. This is all torture for Brutus, of course, and he moves inside as quickly as possible. Antony turns to make his way out of the courtyard, exhaling with private relief, but when he hears that Brutus has gone in and closed the door, he turns back, extending a hand to the monkey who tried to kill him. The guy is rightly skeptical: with no warning, Antony does just as he promised, pulling up his hidden knife and opening the goon's neck.
Elsewhere, a scene of true friendship is going on: Pullo cleans Vorenus's face as he CONTINUES to MOAN about the CURSE on his CHILDREN. Blah blah blah, he shouldn't have done it. Look, we get it! Yes, you did it. No you shouldn't have done it. Sure, Dr. Spock probably covered this in one of the early chapters of his childcare book, conveniently titled When To Curse Your Children And When To Refrain: Every Parent's Tough Decision, but as Pullo so very helpfully points out, it's not like Vorenus killed an animal on it or anything: "The curse isn't sealed. When they come back, you can lift it. No harm done!" Oh, okay. Vorenus gets emotional.
In the street, a herald announces that Caesar's funeral will take place the day: "No prostitutes, actors, or unclean tradesmen may attend." Thanks, ancient Roman Matt Lauer.
Well, well, well. Looks like Calpurnia has at least one more visitor. Servilia has arrived to pay her respects. It's redhead v. redhead, and I'm liking Calpurnia's odds. Especially when she SPITS in Servilia's FACE. TWICE. Love it. With tears in her eyes, Calpurnia has her servants take Servilia to Caesar's body: "Show her what she's done."
Oh my GOD, yet again, we have another scene recapping the whole Vorenus-lured-away story. I seriously don't need it explained to me any more, people. you'll be telling me that Brutus should accept Antony's plans of amnesty in order to avoid being overthrown in an election. Wait, wait. You already DID. Pullo has come to Octavian to explain about Vorenus being absent during Caesar's death. Of course, Octavian already knows all of this, since he was the one who told us about it in the first place, forty minutes ago. Pullo is disappointed to hear how the whole thing went down with Octavian telling his sister, who told Servilia, who used it to plot Caesar's death. I wish he would knock damn Harrius Pottavian in the head for his blabbermouth, but of course, he can't. Instead, he pledges his loyalty, saying that he will be available to exact revenge on Caesar's enemies when Octavian wishes it.
The morning, Atia comes in to harass Antony out of bed. He's lounging around while everyone gets ready for Caesar's funeral. "Relax," he tells her. "It's gonna be my day. I can feel it!" He gives her a long glance as her slaves complete her mourning look, remarking, "I don't think I've ever fucked a woman in a funeral dress before." Atia: "Nor shall you now." "Well, that's a shame," says Antony. "Guess it'll have to be Merula then." He gestures to Atia's crone-like lady in waiting. "Come here old girl," he jokes, patting his lap, "jump on." Atia rolls her eyes: "She'd eat you alive." Frankly, I think that's what Antony had in mind. "I am not rising from this bed," Antony yells, "until I've fucked someone." Atia sighs: "Fine, fine. Merula, fetch that German slut from the kitchen." Oh, would that we all had these convenient German sluts around. But, you know, now they're all union and hard to keep on staff. "Get it right this time," Atia fusses at the slaves who are trying to hem her dress, "or you'll be for the king of goats over there."
Preparations for Niobe's funeral are also going on. Pullo comes in to tell Vorenus that the undertaker has arrived. Vorenus says -- guess what? -- that they should wait for the children and that, BY THE WAY, he should never have cursed them. Oh, really? You cursed them? Where was I when that was mentioned before? Pullo says again that he's sure they'll be back soon, but ol' Brokentavius Recordenus can't get off it. Finally, Pullo takes his friend's face in his hands and sweetly tells him that it's time to send Niobe on her way. They shed a few manly tears.
As Niobe's body is carried to the countryside, attended by scant few mourners, Caesar's is rolled through the city surrounded by throngs of worshippers. Niobe's body burns, covering her sad funeral party in ashes, while in the city, the crowds clamor to get closer to Caesar's flaming pyre. Something's got them riled up, and in the scene, we see it was Marc Anthony.
They don't say it, but history tells us that, during his eulogy, Antony accused Brutus and Cassius of murder. The crowd, naturally, went wild. Now, post-funeral, Brutus and the Gang are freaking out. Politely, Antony suggests that they leave the city under the pretense of a new position: grain monitor. Oooh, it's a beautiful little twist of the knife. Antony would have done well in Deadwood. Servilia, however, says that they have no intention of leaving and, anyway, Antony's not so great: "You are a liar and a breaker of oaths, and you've roused your rabble, nothing more. A pantomime actor might have done what you did today." Antony fixes her with his gaze: "Lucky then it was me that did it, eh? Else you would now be on your knees sucking pantomime cock." Beautiful. Antony tells a shell-shocked Brutus that he has no wish to abuse or humiliate him; he only wishes Brutus gone. "We're going nowhere," Servilia says again, haughtily. Antony says she's right about one thing: she won't be going anywhere; just the men shall leave: "You will stay here in the city, with me, as my guest." Servilia: "Hostage, you mean?" Antony: "As you like." Cassius, sweating, says that Antony can wish whatever he wants; they have all the Senate and men of quality behind them. Antony literally and awesomely gets in his face: "And I have an angry mob that will roast and eat your men of quality in the ashes of the Senate house!" With that, Antony storms out, and Brutus hangs his head.
Vorenus, Pullo, and Eirene return to the house after the funeral, where Vorenus Once. Again. laments the absence of his children. Suddenly, they hear a noise upstairs, and rush there, thinking they'll find the little Vorenii. Instead, they find Clarissa rummaging through the pottery. She delivers the wretched news that Erastes Fulmen has taken the children. "Oh, porca Juno," Pullo prays, and the two men rush out.
On the road out of the city, Brutus, Cassius and their men grimly make their exits.
Meanwhile, in a tavern, one of Erastes's men describes the funeral. Brutus had given a noble and high-toned speech about the law and the republic. Then, the guy goes on, Antony got up and hugged Brutus. "Then," he says, "he pulls out Caesar's toga, all covered in blood." Antony stalked up and down, riling up the crowd, lauding Caesar's praises, causing the Roman citizens to cry like babies. Just when they could take no more, the guy says, Antony threw the bloody toga into the throng. "The whole fucking crowd went mad," he says. "Brutus and them are lucky to be alive. If they are." ["It's like Grade 10 English class all over again. Only better, because of swearing." -- Wing Chun] The tavern dwellers are loving it, but Erastes is less than pleased. He threatens his men, warning them to stay away from all the "disgraceful" rioting, rants on and on that there should be more respect shown at a consular funeral, and storms out to the steam room.
As Erastes relaxes in the steam, muttering his xenophobic nonsense, he hears a bunch of ruckus coming from the other rooms. He calls out for Flavio to tell everyone to shut up and take their fights outside. Um, but Flavio's busy. Getting killed. Yet again, a blood-drenched Vorenus arrives on the scene. "You have my children," he drones to Erastes, who is very surprised to see him, indeed. "The fuck you talkin' about?" Erastes says, claiming that Vorenus has been misled. He calls out for Flavio again. Vorenus informs him, "Flavio is not coming." Oh, no, he sure isn't. Because, as Erastes finds when he rushes out, Flavio's dead. And so is everyone else. Erastes turns a corner to find Pullo, also covered in blood, standing among dozens of his men, all dead. Vorenus and Pullo have slaughtered them all. Erastes knows when he's beat, I guess. He smirkingly offers them wine, and sits down, sighing. "Tell him," Pullo suggests to Erastes. "If they are unharmed, you might yet live." Erastes laughs: "You think so, huh?" To Vorenus, he sighs, "I took your children in payment for your many slights to me. I fucked them; then I killed them; then I threw them in the river." Without hesitating, Vorenus cuts the asshole's head off.
Followed by his friend Pullo, Vorenus walks into the street, still covered in blood, carrying the head of his enemy. They climb to the wall of the city, from which we see the smoke still rising from Caesar's ashes.