So this is what it's all been building up to. Vorenus and Pullo are basically rock stars after their exploits in the arena last week. Caesar is rejiggering the Senate to include Celts, Gauls, and our own Lucius Vorenus, who is too popular to punish for his disobedience and too much of a potential liability not to reward. But Caesar's real purpose is to have a famous bad-ass near him in the Senate chamber, where his guards can't protect him. Pullo's back under Vorenus's roof, hoping to get J. No to forgive him like Vorenus has. Servilia sits in on a meeting of the anti-Caesar conspirators, and learns that the would-be assassins are stymied by Vorenus's constant presence at Caesar's side. Luckily for her, she happens to remember where she's heard Vorenus's name before. So while Caesar's on his way to the Senate, she sends a servant to blab to Vorenus about the true parentage of Little Lucius (As you may recall, Evander told Octavian, who told Octavia, who told Servilia). Vorenus storms home to confront his wife, and Mark Antony is separately pulled aside, leaving Caesar to enter the Senate chamber unprotected. And then Caesar is stabbed to death by a handful of Senators while the rest flee the building like it's on fire. It's really quite ugly. Brutus strikes the last blow, and although Caesar doesn't say The Line to him, Brutus is riddled with guilt. As is Brutus's wont. Servilia breaks the news to Julii Cooper in real time, in that coldly polite way she has, before declaring her intent to make her rival suffer. Back at Vorenus's house, a contrite Niobe gets tired of waiting to see what her husband is going to do with that big knife he's holding. So she takes matters into her own hands, leaving Vorenus grief-stricken. And Pullo appears to win not only J. No's forgiveness, but her love as well, as the two of them hold hands and walk off together into the hiatus. So I guess that's good news, if you believe in love between a murderer and his victim's fiancée.
So remember how, last week, Vorenus jumped into the arena to save Pullo, and I wondered what kind of trouble he was getting into in the process? I suppose I never considered the possibility that maybe no one would notice.
And now it turns out that that's just as well, since the story has already been adapted for the Roman stage. We're watching another play-within-an- HBO-series-episode as the show begins. A pantomime of last week's arena scene is in progress before a cheering and cringing daytime audience that includes Julii Cooper and Octavia (although those two aren't so much cheering). The actor playing Pullo is actually a fair likeness of the one we know, but the special effects here aren't nearly as convincing. If these pantomime actors had any dedication to their craft whatsoever, they'd be flinging the contents of a butcher's castoff bin into the crowd. Amateurs. Not-Pullo pretends to beat down some not-gladiators while the crowd chants Pullo's name. Then a castmate comes out on another actor's shoulders to represent Gayliath, swinging a fake skull-shaped mace and everything. Not-Pullo goes down, which cues the entrance of the actor playing Vorenus, wearing a blood-red tunic and a huge curly wig in a hue that would be too garish for a fire engine. Not-Vorenus defeats Not-Gayliath and slides the mace-handle down the back of Not-Gayliath's tunic (much less screaming this time, but again, it's pantomime) then shares a joyous embrace with Not-Pullo. Julii Cooper comments to Octavia, "It's quite good, but they're far more handsome in real life."
Speaking of which, here's yet another attempt to capture Pullo's image. A bearded artist sits by Pullo's bed in a crowded, primitive hospital, sketching the ex-convict's copiously bandaged and sleeping head. But when Pullo abruptly wakes up, he puts a stop to that by grabbing the man and yanking him close to demand what the hell he's up to. The artist says he's only taking Pullo's likeness. Pullo obviously doesn't know what that means, and looks like he's about to demand it back. The artist manages to explain that he's been commissioned (by the Aventine Cloth-Dyers' Association, which means Vorenus's neighbors) to do a mural of Pullo and Vorenus in the arena. Pullo still doesn't get it, so the artist explains that Pullo and Vorenus are famous now: "The whole city loves you, sir. You and Magistrate Vorenus are symbols of brotherly love and redemption." He says there probably isn't a lady in Rome that Pullo couldn't have right now, if Pullo were in Rome, which apparently he isn't. Pullo's mood markedly improves, although he forgets to release his death grip on the artist's collar until the poor guy reminds him that he'd like to return to his own personal space, thanks very much. Pullo lets go of the artist, but holds on to the portrait a bit longer to admire it. It's a good thing he approves, considering that the artist is actually intimidated by a guy in a hospital bed.
And then, when the artist is gone and all of the other patients are asleep (even though it's daylight), Pullo gets up and limps out of the hospital. Of course, you don't get the comic relief of an IV stand going squeaky squeaky squeaky to him, but there is an amusing moment where he turns right at the end of the hall, and then crosses again to the left when he realizes he's made a wrong turn. Once outside, Pullo unties a horse and heaves himself onto it bareback for the ride back to Rome.
Vorenus and Niobe are finally getting to visit the farmland Caesar gave him. They're accompanied by the family and at least one priest, who is chanting and swinging a censer with so much thick red smoke coming out of it that it looks like a tear gas canister on a chain. Vorenus and Niobe split off from the group and make their way out to the middle of a plowed field, where there's a little fire burning and one little green plant. Well, that'll make things easier come harvest time. Niobe seems put out by the mud, and Vorenus says she might have to get used to it if Caesar exiles him for rescuing Pullo. "He wouldn't be so mean," Niobe scoffs, but Vorenus lets it slip that Caesar might do worse. Niobe starts to get worried, but Vorenus plays it off by saying he's joking. Which should really cause Niobe to worry even more, since it's a clear indication that her husband's been replaced by a replicant, but she seems to buy it. Reaching the fire and what looks like the world's smallest picnic laid out to it, they each do something with a chalice of water and a bowl of what might be flour (might also be cocaine, for all I know), then daub each other's foreheads, laughing self-consciously. Niobe wonders if they should lay down a blanket for the part, which Vorenus nixes. "Well," Niobe says, "If we have to do this again, I'm not wearing my best." And she flops down flat on her back in the dirt so Vorenus can crawl on top of her. With everyone still watching. Of course, they're just faking as part of the ceremony, which will continue until the priest rings his bell. Vorenus reaches out and grabs a handful of earth, which he says is good and fertile. They talk about their plans for the place, until Niobe notices, "You're meant to be pretending. You're not." Jeez, Vorenus, the earth isn't that fertile. They start making out. The priest rings his bell, then rings it louder, a hilariously offended expression on his face.
Pullo has passed right out on his stolen horse as it passes through the graveyard just outside the city. The horse comes to a stop, and Pullo slowly slides off. Yeah, that's one way to wake up. The weird-jazz station that my radio/alarm clock always spontaneously tunes itself to doesn't seem nearly as bad compared to that. And it looks like Pullo isn't the only one expecting a little action in the big city, because the horse is like, "Catch you later, homeslice. I ain't trying to be cockblocked by your decrepit ass." Pullo, who can't even get up now, makes a futile grab for the lead rope as it slowly drags past him across the ground, and laughs heartily at his own failure and his pathetic situation. Don't worry: there's a cart and horses not far behind him on the trail, and at the speed they're going, I'm fairly certain they're going to be able to stop in time.
Mrs. Kravus, the Vorenii's nosy neighbor, greets them upon their return home, and breaks the news that Pullo's in the house -- literally. Apparently he asked to be brought to the House of Vorenii when he was found. Vorenus stomps inside, followed by Niobe. Of course, the whole conversation was overheard by J. No, who keeps her expression neutral. To her credit, she also refrains from setting fire to the house.
Vorenus finds Pullo unconscious and being tied to a bed by an irritated doctor and his staff. "All his wounds have opened up, fresh as flowers," the doctor bitches. He says that if Pullo lives, he shouldn't move for any reason for ten days and nights. The doctor takes his leave, and Vorenus promises his irritated wife that he'll send Pullo back to the country as soon as he can walk. "He won't cause any trouble," Vorenus says. "Not like this." No one mentions the more immediate problem, which is that they're down a bed. Even when Pullo was living here, he slept outside. Too bad they didn't get home in time to ask the doctor to tie Pullo to the stairs instead. "Like old times," Niobe exaggerates, and leaves her husband alone with the one he really loves. Vorenus wakes Pullo, who greets his old commander as formally as he can, given that he's tied down and wouldn't be able to move even if he weren't. He smiles impishly when Vorenus reveals that Pullo's in Vorenus's house instead of the hospital in Avernum where he's supposed to be. Pullo says he didn't want to miss out on the fun of being famous. "Damn foolish fuss," Vorenus says, embarrassed. "What of it?" Pullo cackles that women "like nothing better than a man with a big name." And I'm living proof. Vorenus shakes his head, saying that Caesar will probably just throw them both back into the arena. He adds that he'll learn of Caesar's reaction tomorrow: he's been summoned to appear before the dictator. "If you took a woman now," Vorenus adds, "you'd come apart like an old sack." Hmm, Vorenus seems to know a suspicious amount about how Pullo comes. Pullo laughs until it hurts and then some, because any laughing at all hurts him right now. So he should be safe reading this recap.
Out in the kitchen, Niobe looks glad to hear the two old army buddies sharing a giggle. "Just like old times," Vorena the Elder snits as she parks herself to her mother. "It's good to hear your father laughing for a change," Niobe says, stealing an apple right out of her daughter's mouth. If that's the best burn Niobe can manage, no wonder Vorenus doesn't laugh much.
Out in the courtyard, J. No's having herself a little think. The sound of Pullo's laughter doesn't appear to have anywhere near the same calming effect on her that it did on Niobe, though.
In the middle of the night, J. No softly makes her way up the stairs and into Pullo's sickroom, carrying a knife at her side. Pullo starts awake and sees her standing over him in the candlelight, and his first reaction is to smile that it's good to see her. Her response is to press her knife to his throat. Pullo gasps at first, but then admits, "Fair enough." It's impressive that he's able to make it sound so noble and fatalistic, considering that with his arms tied down tight across his body like they are, the only way he could resist anyway would be to grab the knife away with his Adam's apple. J. No obviously wants him to be more scared, or beg for his life or something, so she just holds the knife there, trying to make scary faces. Which is a mistake, because Niobe comes in, asking what's going on. Pullo tries to cover for J. No, but Niobe quickly spots the knife J. No is trying to hide. Niobe gives J. No a little lecture about how foolish it would be for a freed woman to kill her former master. Yes, I suppose that if that were a common occurrence, there wouldn't be a whole lot of slave-freeing going on. It does raise the question of why J. No is still hanging around the House of Vorenii in the first place. They must be paying her now. In any case, Niobe sends J. No to bed, saying there'll be no more discussion of the matter. It would probably be nice for Pullo (who's looking very relieved right now, despite the brave face he put on a moment ago) if Niobe could suggest that J. No not try this again, though. Nice punishment for attempted murder. I guess magistrating doesn't run in the family.
morning, Niobe reluctantly sends Vorenus off to see Caesar with a protective sachet of something tucked into the breast of his toga and a hot kiss on the lips. She nervously watches him leave, and then engages in a stress-management technique that remains popular to this day: taking it out on the nearest underling. Specifically, she assigns J. No to check on Pullo's dressings. J. No wonders if it has to be her, and Niobe snaps that it does. Niobe also wants J. No to feed Pullo some porridge. Okay, they must be paying J. No a lot. And maybe putting flowers in her chamber pot.
Pullo, still tied to his bed, thanks J. No as she comes in with his breakfast. The only thing that comes out of her mouth in response is a big wad of spit, which she stirs into Pullo's gruel. Pullo doesn't react, except to smile docilely as she starts spooning in the food. She could have come up with something better, really. It's not like he's afraid of her cooties or anything. ["And in an era where everyone's wearing pee clothes, I assumed gruel was mostly spit anyway." -- Wing Chun]
Amid much construction work going on in the Forum, the Town Crier is announcing that Caesar is going to appoint a hundred new Senators. Surprisingly, the construction does not appear to be for the purpose of expanding the Senate chamber, which is going to be kind of crowded. It's raining the kind of rain that doesn't show up on TV, because people are standing under umbrellas. Even Vorenus is followed by an umbrella-holding slave as he walks past with both his hands free. Well, aren't we fancy now? As for the umbrella-holder, hang in there; one day you could be in OutKast. Apropos of little, the Town Crier mentions that the date is the Kalends (or first) of February. So the big day is still a month and a half away? That's, like, half a season of an HBO series.
Inside the out-of-session Senate chamber, Caesar unrolls a huge canvas map on the floor and explains to Cicero that he plans to divert the river. Not by himself, I'm assuming. "Splendid and useful, I have no doubt," Cicero says politely, his ass-kissing way of asking why Caesar would do something so stupid and pointless. As Posca bustles back and forth getting Caesar's signature on stuff, Caesar offers a whole lot of good reasons and adds that they'll be able to build a new temple of Venus. "A new temple, excellent," Cicero passive-aggressively complains, and then asks to bring the subject back around to Caesar's new Senators. As Mark Antony explains from the peanut gallery, the new representatives will be "long-haired Gauls and blue-faced Celts." Vorenus quietly enters and stands with his face in shadow as Cicero gushes, "I'm astonished." Caesar says that's his plan.
Antony is the first to notice Vorenus's arrival. "What, no wreath of oak leaves?" he cracks, only to be discreetly shushed by Caesar. Vorenus enters the room as Caesar pronounces his judgment of Vorenus's recent actions in the arena: "An act of gross criminality and disobedience." Vorenus apologizes and offers no excuses, because that's always worked well for him before. Caesar says he should really have Vorenus killed for defying him, but Vorenus is so popular with the people that Caesar would incur the people's anger if he did so. At the same time, Caesar doesn't want to appear weak, so he has to reward Vorenus instead. And so he appoints Vorenus a Senator on the spot. Well, that'll learn him to disobey Caesar. (No fair going back and changing your vote in this poll, by the way.) For once, Cicero and Mark Antony actually agree on something, as they chuckle derisively. Even Posca seems amused. "Now you're all astonished," Caesar gloats. He turns back to the stunned Vorenus and remarks, "You look like you've seen a Gorgon." I can't improve on that. Vorenus gets over his shock long enough to say that he would be honored to serve if Caesar thinks him worthy. "There's none worthier," Caesar says easily. "You will make an excellent Senator." And he kisses Vorenus on both cheeks. "Very touching," Antony remarks, but doesn't get shushed this time. Caesar tells Vorenus to stay close by him until he learns how things work in the Senate. This is just too much for Cicero, who angrily -- "as a friend," he interjects, much to Antony's ill-hidden amusement -- protests that a "lowly pleb" in the Senate is going too far. "No offense, Vorenus," he adds. Cicero just doesn't think this is a good way for Caesar to please the people: "Build yet another temple! Kill someone! The people are easy to please." Patting Vorenus paternally on the shoulder on his way out, Caesar says he wants the Senate to be composed of the best men in Italy, "not just the richest old men in Rome." "An intriguing notion," Cicero lies. Yeah, we should try that here in the U.S. Vorenus is left alone in the chamber as the slaves roll up the canvas map and follow the bosses out of the room. A ceiling-mounted camera watches as Vorenus steps out into the middle of the circular stone floor with its concentric rings design, standing just on the edge of the center circle. So he's not quite on the bulls-eye, but he's really, really close. What could that mean?
Later, in Caesar's office, Cicero has been ditched so that Antony and Posca can tell Caesar in private what they think of his appointing Vorenus to the Senate. Which is that it's a terrible idea. They both agree that Caesar will have to double his guard in light of all the people he's going to be pissing off. Caesar points out, "Guards can keep my enemies away, but they can do nothing about my friends." Mark Antony wonders if he should take exception to that remark, but Caesar assures him, "Not that you are not perfectly capable of any manner of wickedness, but if you were going to betray me, you would have done it long ago." Antony confesses that he was tempted, earning him a distracted chuckle from Caesar. Posca makes one of his snide remarks, and Caesar says, "Stop your grizzling, you old woman. Who would dare raise a hand to me with the ferocious Lucius Vorenus at my side?" Posca grudgingly admits that it's a clever plan. Caesar carps good-naturedly, "All these years together and it still surprises you that I can tie my sandals." ["Aw, if these two had just moved to Vermont and opened a pie shop, history would have been quite different." -- Wing Chun]
At the House of Vorenii, Vorena the Elder tucks Little Lucius in for the night, and Vorenus kisses his so-called grandson good night, just to remind us that the kid is there. He then leads Vorena into the kitchen for a little conference. Apparently, they've just now remembered that they wanted Vorena to get married years ago, before Vorenus even went off to Greece. "A Senator's daughter can not be running around unattached," Vorenus says. Niobe agrees that they'll find her someone old and rich so that Vorena can have fine dresses and jewelry and slaves. Vorena Meadows that she doesn't care about such "trivial" things, which triggers a "when I was your age" monologue from Vorenus. You know the theme: "When I was your age, I had to tunnel fifty miles through ten feet of snow to get to school, year-round, uphill, both ways" or "When I was your age, an Atari 2600 was the bleeding edge of gaming technology." Vorenus's version goes like this: "When I was your age, I had to eat bones from the gutter." Okay, that's one I hadn't heard before. He says that finery shows people that you're loved and protected. And then my cable goes all wonky for a second, but when it comes back, Niobe is saying to her daughter, "A strange marriage it would be if you loved each other from the start." ["All you missed was Vorena complaining that she wanted to marry someone she loved, some old rich dude, and Niobe telling her that's not really how things work." -- Wing Chun] Vorenus points out himself and Niobe as an example of a couple who once had troubles and are now "happy as you like," as Niobe puts it. Vorena appears to come around, but I think she's just politely trying to ignore the gigantic targets her parents have just painted on each other's faces.
And then we're back in the field on Vorenus's new farm, which is now empty, although the little fire is still burning merrily. A thick flock of birds breaks from the trees, swirls around briefly, and then takes on the unmistakable shape of a skull before zooming toward the camera. Oh, no fucking w--
Ah, I see. It was just a dream. Calpurnia jerks awake in bed to Caesar, who says he was just about to wake her from whatever nightmare she was having. Although Calpurnia is clearly spooked by what strikes her as an ill omen, he kindly pooh-poohs that he's had dreams like that for years. "Bloody rain, black dogs, hooded ferrymen...And here I am still, alive and well." Oddly, Calpurnia isn't soothed. But it's not like Rome's Dictator for Life is about to run off and hide from his wife's bad dreams. Caesar admits that he's tired from all the work he's been doing, but that there's a lot left to be done. Calpurnia says there's always more. "To what end?" she wonders in a spasm of philosophical angst. Caesar says that's a good question: "I shall ask Posca." That finally gets a smile out of Calpurnia, and Caesar plants a goodnight kiss on her shoulder so thatshe can go back to her relaxing dreams of broken mirrors and Friday the XIIIth and Caesar being strung up by his own bowels and the show deciding to cast, as Steve the Wisecracking Time-Traveler, Ted McGinley.
The Junii are having a little ceremony in their house. Brutus is kneeling before a set of those kick-ass, mask-shaped wall sconces. As I suspected, they appear to serve a purpose besides looking cool, because Servilia appears to be praying to them as she stands behind and to one side of her son. "Let his arm be strong," she intones. "Let his aim be true. Let his heart be filled with sacred rage." The camera swings slowly around to show us a candle flame burning behind one of the sconces, just in time for us to see it flicker dramatically. Which must be the Junian ancestors' way of saying, "All righty."
At the House of Vorenii, Pullo and Little Lucius are the only ones at home. And one of them is cutting the bonds of the other. I'll let you guess which is which. "Good boy," Pullo praises excitedly, and heaves himself up off his sickbed. I don't know how many days it's been, but if it had been ten or more, I'm sure he wouldn't be sneaking out like this when everyone's away. He hobbles down the stairs to the courtyard and on into the street. His one concession to his lingering injuries is the fact that he waits to let someone walk past, seeing how a collision with another pedestrian in his current state would probably puncture a kidney. He makes his way across the street to the dyeworks and takes a seat, waiting for passing hotties to notice him. Except it doesn't really work until he stops being subtle on the third try: "Hey, Venus," he calls out. "I have a question for you. Guess who I am?"
Which, sadly, worked, because later we see the woman helping Pullo back into the Vorenian courtyard. Pullo is enjoying himself, until he notices that J. No is there, getting water. He seems to realize that if he's ever going to win her forgiveness, maybe "horny hedonist" isn't the persona he wants to cultivate in front of her. Pullo and his date make it to the bottom of the stairs and then he awkwardly tells the woman, "It was nice to meet you. I can manage from here." Because I guess that with all the other trappings of status they've accumulated, the Vorenii can now afford a lot of lotion and tissues. The woman knows her sudden rebuff has something to do with the much prettier woman across the courtyard, but she leaves without making a stink or getting her SAG card. J. No, having witnessed the whole scene, turns to go herself, but Pullo stops her. Instead of looking at him with blank hatred like before, she's now looking at him with blank blankness, so that's progress. He asks where everyone is. Any small talk that ensues, we don't get to stick around to hear.
Caesar finds Vorenus standing around awkwardly on the steps of the Senate House among the rest of the new Senators, bearded and shaggy specimens all. Caesar leads Vorenus to the top of the steps, while the incumbent Senators mill around in the Forum below. Caesar raises Vorenus's hand, just like he did when he asked him to run for magistrate. The Senators all applaud politely, because how else are they going to respond to two of the three scariest men in Rome?
Inside the Senate chamber, there's some kind of reception going on for the new arrivals. Seems like there should be little plastic wine cups and cocktail mice. From a mezzanine above the main floor, Brutus is watching the proceedings with a group of other discontented Senators. "I'm sure I saw that one selling fish in the Forum," a bald guy named Cimber remarks of one of the new Senators. Cassius points out that at least the fishmonger is Roman, unlike many of the other new legislators. They watch as Caesar enters, with Vorenus right at his hip. Cicero snarks, "It's the end, eh? The Gauls have invaded." When no one laughs, he tries to smooth things over by saying that the Gauls will only be around when Caesar needs support for his latest awful idea. Sure, that makes it all better. Brutus figures out who Vorenus is, and as they watch Caesar whisper to his new sidekick, Cassius remarks, "Affectionate, aren't they?" A guy named Casca bitches that "a beast of the fields is a Senator of Rome." Cicero advises Casca not to worry. As for himself, he's going to go home and get drunk. Caesar now turns and notices the little group watching from above, and pleasantly raises a hand to Brutus in a half-wave, half-salute. Brutus freezes like a deer in the headlights, then finally manages to return the gesture. Good thing he's standing behind a waist-high railing, because all that white cloth the Senators have to wear must be pretty poor for concealing the fact that one has just pissed oneself.
Later, the pissy party has moved to Brutus's house, where Cimber is nervously pacing around, certain that Caesar is already onto them. They bicker, until Cassius insists that they have to act soon, before their power as noblemen is diluted beyond any use. Casca wonders what to do about Vorenus. From outside the little circle, Quintus snaps, "Lucius Vorenus is a son of a whore." When asked, Quintus only says that he knows Vorenus, and not that he got his tiny little chipmunk ass handed to him by the new Senator long ago. Servilia has been listening quietly this whole time, but now she asks who Lucius Vorenus is, anyway. Brutus reminds his mother of the "low soldier that jumped into the arena to save a comrade...Well, Caesar has pandered to the mob and made him a Senator." So now they have to figure out a way to get past Vorenus to reach Caesar. "Kill him as well," Quintus suggests. "What's it matter?" The Junii point out that they have to keep the people on their side, which they can't do if the wildly popular Vorenus becomes collateral damage. "Only the tyrant dies," Servilia insists. Quintus and the others start brainstorming sneaky ways to kill Caesar at home, until Brutus puts a stop to that by jumping to his feet and yelling, "Gentlemen, this is not some cheap murder! It is an honorable thing that we do. It must be done honorably. In daylight. On the Senate floor. With our own hands. With my hand." Which Servilia takes, showing her support for her son's outburst. But, as Quintus points out, they still have to figure out how.
At night, the river flows under a stone walkway that spans its banks. Servilia should really be seeing this, if only so that she can be introduced to the concept of water under a bridge.
Niobe is sitting up in bed, sighing theatrically. "What's wrong?" Vorenus mumbles sleepily from beside her, remarking archly, "You were worrying very loudly." Niobe confesses that she's concerned about how fast things are moving. As she'll soon see, it's not the speed of motion; it's the sudden stop at the end. But I get ahead of myself. Vorenus sits up to her and pulls her into a comforting cuddle. Thunder rumbles ominously.
Niobe and Vorenus aren't the only ones awake. Servilia is lying in her bed, nothing going on behind her eyes but the constant dreams of revenge which must be like background static for her by now. And then...a candle appears to light up inside her head. Ah, the connection is made.
Servilia immediately gets up and awakens Brutus to make sure that Lucius Vorenus is in fact the name of Caesar's bodyguard in Senatorial robes. When he confirms it, she portentously says, "I have heard the name before." Except that while Lindsay Duncan is a formidable actor, she's not actually capable of speaking in hypertext.
Julii Cooper is at home, trying to figure out what to make of the written invitation to visit that she's just received from Servilia. Mark Antony, who's also hanging around, wonders why it's so strange. "Why would she want to see me?" Julii Cooper wonders. "She hates me." Antony replies, "So do I. That's no bar to friendship." Aw, get a room, you two. Julii Cooper still wonders what Servilia is thinking. "Nothing to your benefit," Octavian obviouses. Julii Cooper announces that she'll accept: "Her rage amuses me." Oh, she'll be laughing her ass off in a few pages. She says she wants Octavian to come along as protection, saying, "Who knows what the mad old turtle will do?" Octavia objects to her mother speaking of her ex in such a manner, which of course tells Julii Cooper that her daughter still has feelings for her. Funny, I don't remember Octavia telling her mom that she and Servilia were actually making with the fucky-fucky. Octavia, still acting all culty, now insists that she feels nothing but pity for Servilia, as well as for her old self, and for Julii Cooper. If she's trying to piss off her mom, it's not working, because it only gets her a smile and a kiss. Which probably pisses off Octavia more than she'd ever admit.
At the House of Vorenii, J. No comments on the traveling clothes that Pullo's wearing. He says that he's planning to go to the country for the day and maybe stop by the shrine of Rusina to ask for forgiveness for his sins. "You think she might? Forgive me?" Pullo asks, looking hopefully at J. No so we know it's not the goddess he's really worried about. Even J. No realizes it, but she gives a safe answer: "Who knows what the gods will do?" Pullo nods, and since J. No didn't say no, he invites her to come along. Pullo, a bit of advice: pack your own lunch.
Whoa, the Town Crier again? It's his second scene of the episode! That never happens! Must be a bad omen. Anyway, he's in the Forum announcing that the Senate is in session today. He leaves the date out of the report, though, so as not to hit us over the head too hard.
Caesar exits his home to meet the entourage waiting to escort him to the Senate house. Vorenus is among them, of course, as well as a platoon of soldiers carrying fasces over their shoulders. (A fasces, of course, is a bundle of sticks tied together as a symbol of the Republic. Don't thank me, thank the viewer who emailed me that factoid the last time it came up. Also, I bet it would sting to take one of those upside the head.) There's a civilian in the yard, hollering to have Caesar read his petition, and he is of course roundly ignored. Man of the people, my ass. Caesar and his party head off to work for the last time. Oops, was that out loud?
Servilia and Julii Cooper greet each other with their typical false yet flawless courtesy. Servilia also remarks of Octavian, "You're practically a man!" She invites them in, and a maid in a blue cloak leaves the house.
Pullo makes his way through the busy streets near Vorenus's place, stopping to look briefly at the now-completed mural. I'm no art critic, but the mural looks like a larger, less hurried version of the kind of graffiti we've been seeing all season. I also can't help wondering what Pullo thinks of the depiction of himself lying helplessly on the ground while a flame-haired Vorenus stands over him and kills Gayliath. Pullo moves on, clearing the frame so that we can get a good look at J. No a moment later as she steps into the shot to let us know she's following. "I made you cranberry jam sandwiches!" she doesn't call out.
Out in the Forum, a huge crew is busy raising a completed column into position. It looks very hard, what with there not being any cranes involved. Caesar's party has reached the main square, when Servilia's blue-cloaked maid calls out, "Senator Vorenus! I come about your grandson, Lucius." Vorenus stops as the rest of the group carries on, Posca now at Caesar's side. The maid tells Vorenus that Servilia of the Junii sent her: "And what I now tell you is the truth." She whispers into Vorenus's ear. We can't hear what she's saying, but judging from Vorenus's reaction, it isn't "He has your eyes."
Caesar and Posca mount the steps to the Senate house, still surrounded by guards.
Vorenus, frozen, flashes back to his first sight of Niobe when he returned home, and how she was holding a mystery baby. And then he remembers seeing Evander comfort a crying Little Lucius during Vorenus's banquet. And then the commotion on the dance floor later on at the same event. Lucius whips around and heads home, leaving the maid standing there watching with grim satisfaction. Really, the conspirators could have come up with any lie at all to get Vorenus to ditch Caesar for the day, but I can't think of one that would have worked as well as the truth did.
"Where's Vorenus?" Caesar asks at the top of the Senate steps. "He was with us a moment ago," Posca says. "Never mind," Caesar says stupidly, and sweeps into the building like he owns the place. Mark Antony is on his way in from a different direction at the same time, but a grizzled old Senator gets his attention and pulls him aside before he can enter. I wonder if that Senator was pissed or relieved that this was his part in the scheme.
Servilia is finally getting down to the purpose of her invitation to Julii Cooper. "It's important to me that I be the first to tell you what has happened." ["She's pretty confident that no one would puss out, to describe it in the past tense." -- Wing Chun] Octavian looks a little startled at that, but Julii Cooper is just confused. Oh, Julii Cooper. You are so over your head.
Caesar enters the chamber, individually greeting a few of the Senators who are milling about. One of them is Cimber, who reminds Caesar that he was considering revoking Cimber's brother's exile. Caesar says he's still considering it, and begins to mount the dais to his new chair. Cimber grabs at Caesar's elbow, and Caesar mildly says, "Take your hand off me." Undeterred, Cimber grabs at Caesar's shoulder drape to try and drag it off him. The two grapple like a couple of eighth-graders, until Caesar manages to grab the cloth back and glare at Cimber, too shocked and furious to speak. Cimber says to the room, "What are you waiting for? Now! Now!" Nobody moves. Um, awkward. I like how this isn't staged as the smoothly choreographed master plan that one always envisions, but as the embarrassing, unrehearsed near-fiasco it must actually have been. Finally, Casca is the first Senator that works up the courage to rush Caesar with a naked dagger. He fails, because Caesar grabs the blade with his fist to prevent a deadly blow. Casca manages to pull his knife back, but aside from that, he hasn't accomplished much aside from cutting Caesar's hand. Cimber rushes Caesar , stabbing him just above the belt. Cassius slashes Caesar's face, and then Caesar is abruptly at the center of a bellowing scrum of bloodthirsty Senators. So far, all Brutus has done is look on in horror. The Senators who weren't in on the conspiracy start pouring out of the peanut gallery and toward the exit in panic. Someone drags along Cicero, who looks both alarmed and hurt that he wasn't invited to the party.
Outside, Mark Antony notices the sudden flood of white-robed evacuees and tries to rush inside. But the men who took him aside before are now physically holding him back. Posca fights the tide of men, only to be knocked unconscious (or dead, gods forbid) from behind by a blackjack-wielding Quintus. Quintus tries to go in to carve off a hunk of Caesar for himself, but the press of exiting bodies overwhelms the vicious chipmunk.
Inside, Brutus continues to stand away from the melee. The clean knife in his hand clatters to the floor.
Vorenus stomps through the streets, shouldering people aside and smashing a random pot hanging from a stall. Nobody complains. I gotta get me one of those Senator's togas.
It is an honorable thing we do, Brutus said, which, judging by his expression, doesn't really seem to square with what he's witnessing now. Caesar is writhing in agony at the center of a deadly version of the ugliest schoolyard feeding frenzy you ever saw. At least one Senator slips in Caesar's blood and crashes to the gory marble floor. Caesar himself somehow escapes from the seething mass of screaming flesh and bone and steel and self-righteous bloodlust and manages to stagger, twitching, to fall helplessly against a front bleacher of the peanut gallery. Suddenly, a blood-stained Cassius snatches up Brutus's knife and places it in his hand. "Do it," he urges. Brutus swallows hard and makes his way over to where Caesar is splayed half-sitting and half-lying, spasming furiously, his toga an even bloodier mess than I predicted. Brutus drops to a crouch before his old friend, and they look at each other in a long, wordless moment that comprises compassion, pity, disappointment, and despair on Brutus's part, and agony, fear, humiliation, and confusion on Caesar's part, followed by hope and love as he gazes into the face of his oldest friend. And then there's nothing but shock as Brutus finally sinks his knife into Caesar's body. Brutus rolls away from his old mentor. Caesar falls to one side and, with his last bit of strength, struggles to pull a fold of his toga up to cover his face. But then his arm goes limp, giving everyone a swell view of his lifeless, staring eye.
Things are pretty ugly at the House of Vorenii as well, as Vorenus has arrived home and is now furiously trashing the place. Niobe, standing near the doorway, screams at Vorenus to stop and asks what's wrong. "Where is he?" Vorenus demands. "Who?" Niobe wails. Vorenus spits, "Your son!" And now Niobe knows that it's all over. Vorenus smashes some more shit, and then grabs Niobe and screams right into her face to tell him whether it's true. Niobe's face goes really sad, and she says, "I thought you were dead." And now she knows she is. Vorenus releases her and backs into a chair to the kitchen table. Upon which there is a half-eaten loaf of bread, a bread board, and a very large bread knife, which Vorenus now picks up thoughtfully. A tear rolls down Niobe's cheek as she watches Vorenus struggle with either his desire to kill her right now, or his desire not to kill her at all. He's completely wrapped up in his internal conflict, so he completely fails to notice as she backs out onto the balcony and sits on the railing. "Lucius, the boy is blameless," she says softly, and lets herself fall backward into the courtyard below. Vorenus looks up in shock, suddenly realizing that someone in the family has a much bigger problem than he does right now.
Back in the suddenly quiet Senate chamber, the twelve or thirteen remaining Senators stand around beholding what they've done. Cassius breaks the silence by stepping over to Brutus, raising his compatriot's hand, and announcing, "Thus ever for tyrants!" So there's one famous line that survived this adaptation, at least. Brutus yanks himself free with quite a bit more force than is necessary, and staggers over to a seat while the fallen Senator finally gets up from the pool of Caesar-juice now coagulating on the bulls-eye of the Senate floor. Brutus looks completely wrecked. Even more wrecked, in fact, than Mark Antony, who has just walked in and now takes in the scene without saying a word. The look on Antony's face is indescribable. There's anger, and grief, and stark realization that maybe a roomful of pissed-off guys with knives who just killed his best friend is not a place where he wants to be right now. As Brutus watches, trying to think of something to say, Antony backs out of the room, not turning his back on the conspirators until he reaches the exit. Finally, the assassins are left alone with their victim. As the camera pulls back, we see that Brutus is sitting on a corner of the dais upon which Caesar's proto-throne rests. He hangs his head and screams, "Nooo!" IInd thoughts?
And now here's Servilia, to sum it all up for us. As she explains to Julii Cooper, "The tyrant is dead, the Republic is restored, and you are alone. Would you like some honey water?" Julii Cooper is expressionless, while Octavian gazes at his hostess with undisguised hatred. Servilia assures Julii Cooper that she won't harm her -- "Not yet." Julii Cooper starts to babble about their friendship, but Servilia cuts that off. "Not yet," she repeats. "I will make you suffer slowly. Slowly and deeply. As you made me suffer. First, I want to see you run. Run for your life. Run to some rathole in Greece or Illyria. Wherever you like. I shall come and find you." Julii Cooper, her face still frozen in a deer-in-the-headlights rictus, manages to find the strength to rise to her feet and pronounce, "Thank you for the visit." Oh, catch up, Julii Cooper. The game has changed. The old rules don't apply anymore. Servilia rises and glares back at Julii, her face lit from the far side so that her eyes look like silvery nailheads. Julii Cooper tears herself away from that basilisk stare and makes her way across the room. Before joining her, Octavian tries to give Servilia a hard "this is not over" look that would be a lot more effective if you couldn't see him counting seconds in his head. The Julii leave together, under their own steam. Aw, poor Octavian. Whatever will become of him now?
Vorenus kneels in his courtyard, crying inconsolably and rocking back and forth, cradling his dead wife's body all first-season Kiefer. Little Lucius picks that moment to come home from wherever it is six-year-old boys go during the day in ancient Rome. Vorenus looks up at him. Little Lucius looks back. We cut away before Vorenus can say, "Well, the good news is that you didn't just lose your grandmother."
Out at some pastoral location, the sun is getting low as a herd of sheep cross a field. In the same field, Pullo does something to an altar or idol of some sort while J. No stands by. Pullo rises to leave, and J. No catches up to him and takes his hand. Wait, what? I don't know. Maybe she's only pretending so that they can get engaged and he'll turn his J. No's-fiancé-killing tendencies on himself. Whatever. At least they don't quite walk into the sunset. That would be too clichéd. No, the sunset is somewhere off the edge of the frame.
And that's a wrap for Season 1, if not the whole series. Thanks to all of you, to the cast and crew of Rome, to Wing Chun for being such an excellent and patient boss and editor, my supportive and understanding wife Trash, and of course to all the folks who famously lived and died two thousand years ago so I could sit here at my computer and make fun of them today. I owe them a solid.