With Erastes Fulmen's severed head rotting in the house of Vorenus, there's a power vacuum among the crime bosses of the Aventine. So Mark Antony invokes some ancient Roman equivalent of the Santa Clause, and Vorenus takes Fulmen's place as the local big bad. He gets totally into it, adopting as his gimmick the persona of the Son of Hades. His blasphemy shocks even Pullo, but it's not enough to break them up. Yet. Timon's brother is in town from Jerusalem, having gotten into some trouble for stirring up shit back home, and now he's making Timon nervous as well. There's unrest in the upper ranks, too: Mark Antony, who's already in the middle of a tense situation between Cleopatra (visiting Rome to request that her son be recognized as Caesar's heir) and Atia (virulently jealous of the Egyptian queen), is getting tired of Octavian's whining about receiving his inheritance from Caesar's estate. When Octavian takes matters into his own hands and borrows a huge sum to pay the plebes the money Caesar promised them, Antony flies into a rage at the implied political challenge. Atia takes Antony's side in the matter, and things get violent. Servilia thinks that this schism is the opportunity for Brutus to return to Rome, but Cicero, triangulating his fool head off, convinces her to postpone. A battered Octavian ends up leaving the city for now, accompanied by a detachment of soldiers and a trailer full of slaves. Among those slaves? The Vorenii and Little Lucius.
Hail, citizens! I'd apologize for my belated return to the gates of this great city, but because Al Lowe did such a splendid job filling in for me while I was being beaten vigorously about the head and shoulders by the Fox network, I don't feel any guilt at all. Well, except towards Al.
Back from a long day of family-avenging, Vorenus stomps back into his empty house, followed by Pullo and still carrying the pale, severed head of Erastes Fulmen. Once inside, he carelessly tosses it on the floor, then sits on the bed. He dismisses Pullo with a look, then flops onto his back and closes his eyes, his face still spattered with other people's blood. This is how he will spend the month or so. At least until the blood crusts off and the scabby little particles get all mixed up in the blankets. After writing four recaps in a week, I'm actually kind of jealous.
An indeterminate amount of time later, a gang of disreputable-looking men flee through the narrow, crowded streets. One of them has a long knife protruding from his back, so I assume his friends are rushing him to the hospital. And you think 911 is a joke in your town? We lose track of them when the stabbed man finally falls. Satisfied for now, the pursuing gang gives up the chase as one of its members reclaims the knife from the victim's back. The blood streams out obligingly onto the cobblestones. The whole scene is witnessed by some old woman waving around candles and incense, who marks the spot as evil. She's startled by Pullo, because of course the murder happened right outside the entrance to Vorenus's courtyard. Pullo shoos the old woman away and empties a bucket of filthy water out into the street. I'm thinking he did her a favor by shooing her first. Or maybe she could have used the bath. It's always hard to tell on this show. Pullo returns to the courtyard, giving us a close look at the little shrunken-head totems hanging from the doorway as he goes. Cheery.
Inside the courtyard, Pullo tries to get a kiss from his bride Eirene (formerly J. No in these pages), but she's not in the mood to snog him in his current bearded state. She hands him a bowl of gruel, but he can't even eat his breakfast in peace without Eirene pressuring him to talk to Vorenus about something: if the mood around there doesn't improve soon, she wants to leave. "This place is a house of death," she complains. Pullo already knows this, having caused some of it and then married the victim's fiancée. She's worried about what will happen if they get pregnant while there; the baby would be a monster. Uh, have you met this hypothetical child's father? That's kind of a no-brainer regardless of location. "I said I'd talk to him," Pullo says wearily, and heads upstairs to bring Vorenus his breakfast. Honeymoon's over.
Fulmen's head is still in its spot on the kitchen floor, looking distinctly grayish. I understand that housekeeping traditionally suffers when the woman of the house isn't around, but Vorenus is taking the new bachelor thing a little far, methinks. Pullo finds the man himself still sacked out in bed, looking in a not much better state than Fulmen, albeit rather taller. Pullo tries to jolly Vorenus up for a walk in the country, calling him "brother" and saying that maybe it's time to shave off their mourning beards and get on with their lives. He sets Vorenus's bowl on the bed, and Vorenus half-agrees with Pullo. "You should go," he says. Pullo doesn't want to abandon his friend, and tells Vorenus he can't sit there for the rest of his life. Vorenus gets pissy: "I have caused the death of my wife. I have caused the death of my children. I have caused the death of Caesar. What would you have me do now? Run a butcher shop?" Why not? You're on a roll. Oh, and don't forget that the kids are in hell because you damned them and never took it back. That's important to remember, too. Pullo retreats for now, grumping back, "Eat your damn porridge." Eirene will be glad to hear they talked.
At the house of Atia (or, as I'm going to continue calling her until The O.C. is off the air, Julii Cooper), the lady of the house is airing the first of several batches of insecurities that will drive her behavior this week. She's asking Mark Antony -- who's busy getting dressed for the day -- about Cleopatra. He dismissively says that he barely met her when he was in Egypt (which makes sense; he was barely in that episode), and that he wasn't impressed at the time. Julii Cooper points out that Cleopatra must have impressed Caesar, and Antony scoffs that Cleopatra's being a queen probably had something to do with that. "Caesar would have fucked Medusa if she'd worn a crown," Antony cracks. Julii Cooper still wants to make sure that Antony doesn't do the same, and he amiably agrees to remember. Not to refrain, of course, but to remember. As he brushes past her, Julii Cooper quietly murmurs, "I love you," but gets no response. Hmm.
Antony's barely out the front door of the compound when Octavian catches up to him. The kid wants to know when he can expect to receive his inheritance from Caesar's estate. Antony's quite pleasant about blowing Octavian off, but we can tell that it's clearly not the first time. He breezily promises to "see to it" as he rides off in a sedan chair. Octavian's left standing in the street, wondering how much more of his money Mark Antony's going to spend today.
We rejoin Antony in his office, and he's got guests: Cleopatra and her small retinue, including Poor Man's Linda Hunt from last season's Egypt episode. Cleopatra looks better now that she's grown her hair out from prison length. Antony makes small talk in his usual borderline offensive way, smirking like a porn star. He comments on her changed appearance and she wonders if she's even seen him before. "Those uniforms you wear...you all look alike," she shrugs. Plus they all have the same haircut, which doesn't help. Antony asks what seems to be bringing Cleo down, and she's kind of surprised that he would ask, given that the father of her child (supposedly) is recently dead and all. She says that she and Caesar were as husband and wife, which would probably be news to Calpurnia. Antony is quietly amused at the thought of "a Roman Consul with a 'Gyptian wife." She starts to take offense, so it falls to Posca to defuse things. That's going to be floating to the top of his job description fairly quickly, I'd wager. He says that it's time to begin negotiations. Basically, Rome agrees to continue backing Cleopatra's queendom, in exchange for regular grain shipments from Egypt to Rome from which Mark Antony will get a large cut of the profits. Posca and Poor Man's Linda Hunt dicker briefly but efficiently over the size of the cut, and quickly reach an agreement. For this she had to sail all the way from Alexandria?
Mark Antony's ready to end the meeting now, but Cleopatra has one more item: her son is four years old, and is starting to ask questions about his father. She wants to be able to tell the kid that he's legal. "It will never happen," Antony says, drifting around to the front of his desk. "The people wouldn't like it." She says that it's not political, but just for the sake of the kid. "A simple public declaration of paternity would suffice," she says, the very incarnation of reasonableness. Antony wonders what's in it for him, and she offers her "eternal gratitude." Of course, whenever Mark Antony hears "eternal gratitude" from a woman, it only makes him wonder if that includes anal. So he moves in slowly and whispers something in the Queen's ear that I can't hear. I don't think we're meant to, though. It's a bit like Kenny from South Park. Rather than slapping his face, Cleo merely smiles, "That's possible." But when he moves in for a kiss, she dodges, standing up to face him. "Declare my boy a lawful son of Caesar and we shall be friends," she says. He wonders why she doesn't trust him, and she cites his "changeable look." Antony pleasantly objects, and reaches to touch her face. With one movement, she pushes his hand away and slaps him twice across the face. "It is not permitted to touch," Poor Man's Linda Hunt drones. Antony collects his temper and tells Cleo, "Nice manners for a whore." She leaves, saying that she's prepared to prostitute herself if necessary, but the customer pays first. Antony smirks, "Your son will eat shit and die before I make him legal." "You see? Very changeable," she tut-tuts. Cleo and her entourage take their leave, but apparently they'll be seeing each other again tomorrow at dinner. Sounds uncomfortable and awkward. I'll be there.
On her way out, Cleo and her peeps go through a group of soldiers and citizens arrayed on either side of the walkway. One of them is Pullo. The two share a long look as she passes, but neither speaks. Whatever could this lowly legionnaire and a queen have between them? Sure, a long-ago night of fucking that produced the kid Cleo was just talking about and is still claiming as Caesar's, but what else?
Antony's appointment is with some long-winded worthy who's complaining that now that Erastes Fulmen is gone, the Aventine (Vorenus's neighborhood) is falling into chaos as the lesser crime bosses struggle for supremacy. "Every day there's violence, every day there's [distasteful pause] hoo-hah." Heh. He drones on, boring even himself, until Antony abruptly dismisses the man in mid-filibuster, promising to look into it. Right after he gives Octavian his inheritance, of course.
But Antony's still not through with the subject, because now his old buddy Cicero is standing before him, giving his own lecture about the Aventine and how the criminal unrest threatens the very Republic: "The violence will spread if it is not stopped. The city will descend into chaos and famine and you will blamed, I'm afraid, although none of your fault, of course," he dutifully ass-kisses. Antony again promises to deal with it and asks what Cicero actually wants. Cicero reminds Antony that Antony summoned him, and Antony remembers to have Posca hand a large scroll over to Cicero. The Senator sniffs and peruses it, saying, "It appears to be a list of every dishonest rascal in the city." An unamused Antony claims that it's a list of candidates for the year's elections, drawn up by Caesar and found by Posca after Caesar "was taken from us." Antony wants Cicero's endorsement, but Cicero smells a rat, saying that the men on the list paid to get there. And even if he does endorse the list, everyone will think it was because Antony intimidated him. Antony is annoyed at the notion that Cicero isn't intimidated. Hey, there's a first time for everything. "At present," Cicero explains, "you cannot afford to kill me. You need me to run the Senate." But he agrees to endorse the list if Antony lets him cut the worst names from it first. Antony wearily agrees. His job would be so much easier if everyone would always do exactly what he wants them to.
After Cicero leaves, Posca is about to tell Antony about his appointment. But Antony's had enough state business for one day, so he's going to bounce. Posca quickly tries to raise the issue of his own payment, and gets blown off a lot more rudely than Octavian did. Antony calls poor Posca a "wretched Greek thief," complaining that he's "surrounded by money grubbers." And then it gets worse. As he leaves the room, Antony is beset by petitioners shouting his name and waving scrolls at him. He resolutely ignores every one of them, except for Titus Pullo, whom he actually seems glad to see. He asks what Pullo's doing there, and Pullo says that he's there to ask Antony's advice on what to do about Vorenus. I don't buy for a second that Pullo would bother a Consul about his friend's depression, but Antony looks intrigued at this precious opportunity to deal with something unimportant for once.
thing you know, Antony is standing over Vorenus's filthy bed, regarding him with visible disgust. Pullo tries to make excuses for Vorenus, but Antony isn't hearing it, even going so far as to blame Vorenus for Caesar's death. "Stand at attention when I'm talking to you!" he snaps. Vorenus manages to wobble to his feet, which is tricky considering he probably hasn't walked farther than the chamber pot in weeks, if even that far. Antony asks, given Vorenus's irrevocable disgrace, "Why then are you still alive? Why have you not done your damned duty and opened your stomach?" Great idea, Pullo, bringing Antony by to cheer him up. Good thinking. Vorenus stoically says he'd love that, "but Dis is my master. He will take me when he chooses. My present duty shall be to suffer here on this earth." Antony reminds Vorenus that he, not Dis, is Vorenus's master, in keeping with the oath Vorenus swore under the standards of the 13th Legion back in the day. "Sir," Vorenus acknowledges. Antony walks over and picks up Fulmen's head, now looking downright greenish and surrounded by a cloud of buzzing flies. "This, I take it, was Erastes Fulmen," Antony presumes. "It calms him to look at the thing," Pullo excuses. I heard they tried to case Wilson from Cast Away in this role, but he's in rehab. Holding the rotting noggin up near his own face so he can benefit from the comparison, Antony accuses Vorenus, "Not content to let our great father die, you start a war on the Aventine that threatens to engulf the whole fucking city!" He turns and hurls the head out the front door, Pullo barely dodging it as it bounces off the balcony and into the courtyard below on a classic Niobean trajectory. Vorenus barely manages to restrain himself from going after it like a dog with a tennis ball. Wiping his hands, Antony offers Vorenus a chance at redemption. Vorenus doesn't think that's an option for him, but Antony's now in "good cop" mode, laying one hand affectionately on the back of Vorenus's neck. Good cinematography here; somehow, Antony's face is lit by a healthy, sunny glow, while Vorenus's grungy mug looks as if the only light reaching it had to travel through a dirty fish tank, even though the two men are facing each other only inches apart. Meanwhile, Fulmen's poor desiccated melon still lies in the courtyard. The camera lingers on it for a moment, just so we can be sure it's not going anywhere on its own. Even though that would be AWESOME.
Later, Antony and Julii Cooper are in a huge bath together, the camera demurely at water level so you can't see anything below their necks. Julii Cooper wants to hear about Cleopatra, and he messes with her head a bit (to her almost complete lack of amusement) before saying Cleo was in mourning and therefore not even remotely hot. "Very gray and formal," he says. "Quite the little mouse." He adds, incidentally, that Cleo asked him to formally recognize her son Caesarion, and Julii Cooper is of course shocked at the very idea. He calls it "a pig of a day all around. Running this damn city is not nearly as amusing as I thought it would be." It never is. Plus Antony's not looking forward to the evening's formal dinner, where he's going to have to see Cleopatra all over again. Julii Cooper idly asks if Servilia is coming, and he says that she is. And then, because they're in the bath, the scene ends with a suggestive comment by Antony regarding moray eels (didn't think such a thing was possible) and quite a lot of splashing.
day, Octavian is arriving home for the dinner party. Entering his mother's compound through the back courtyard, he spots Timon and a number of other guys, all looking rather serious and sharpening their swords. Subtle.
Inside, the party's already in full swing. We follow Octavia's hairdo from the back for a while, until her brother appears and asks her, "Where's your mother?" Octavia nods in Julii Cooper's direction, and he's about to head right over. But before he can, he notices that Servilia is standing directly across the room. The Octaves (TM Al Lowe) wonder what Servilia's even doing there, and Octavian guesses that it's Antony's attempt at "a show of unity for the Egyptians." Normally Octavian's several steps ahead of everyone else, but I can't help wondering if the Egyptians even give a shit.
But Julii Cooper's about to put on her own show. Crossing to Servilia, she greets her and thanks her for coming. Servilia coldly says that she's there under protest, at Mark Antony's insistence. Julii Cooper gets in a little dig about how scared Servilia must be as Antony's hostage, promising that she herself means Servilia no ill. "It's enough for me to know that I have won and you've been humbled," she bullshits. "We've both suffered enough." Servilia wonders if she's being mocked, but Julii Cooper insists that she's merely offering her friendship. As every guest at the party looks on without trying to be too obvious about it, Servilia says, "I cannot honorably refuse." As much as she may want to. It's good enough for Julii Cooper, who takes Servilia's hands and kisses her on both cheeks. "Enjoy the party," she says, moving away.
Of course, because Julii Cooper sucks at this, she can't even contain her evil glee for the five steps it takes her to get to where her kids have been standing, watching in disapproval and astonishment, respectively. She tries to gloat over her performance and Servilia's reaction, but Octavian wants to know what's up with Timon and his small army hanging out in the courtyard. As if he doesn't already know they're there to take out Servilia. He reminds her about the truce, and that given the delicate political situation, Servilia's death would "throw the Republic into uproar." Julii Cooper pouts that she doesn't care. He asks if Antony knows about Julii Cooper's plan. She tries to lie that Antony's in the loop, but can't even pull that off. Octavian heads over to Antony to spill the beans, followed closely by his angry mother. An argument we don't hear ensues. But how will we know who won?
And out in the courtyard, Julii Cooper cuts Timon and his men loose for the day. So now we know.
Back inside a bit later, Julii Cooper's pouting to Antony about Cleo being late for dinner. Right then is when Cleo and her ladies-in-waiting enter. Cleo's gotten dressed up for the occasion, in a slinky gold formal and a...well, I guess you'd call it a Cleopatra wig. Before moving to greet her, Julii Cooper sarcastically mutters to Mark Antony, "Just as you described her. Quite the little mouse." A gold-plated wireless optical mouse with two scroll wheels, maybe. Not bothering to answer, Antony goes over to greet the guest of honor, followed grudgingly by the hostess.
Antony starts to greet Cleopatra by all her titles and honorifics, but she puts a stop to that and puts a hand to his chest, asking to be informal. Antony is for once jolted out of his suavity by her flirtatious manner, until she asks for introductions. Which is when he remembers that his girlfriend is standing right to him. Awkward. And uncomfortable. Antony introduces their hostess. "Atia," Cleo acknowledges graciously. She turns to Mark Antony and says, "Nice. Just as you said." Julii Cooper looks downward, embarrassed. I think she lost that round, too. Cleo brought a little boy along with her, and she introduces him as Caesarion. "Does he not he look exactly like his noble father?" "Uncanny," Antony agrees, about as sincerely as he ever says anything. "Looks nothing like him," Julii Cooper mutters, and stomps off. Aside from her rudeness, she's got a point there; any true child of Caesar wouldn't be able to lift his own giant head off the floor until at least age ten. Antony asks Cleo, "Shall we eat?"
Eating montage! Everyone lies around, watching each other eat in slow motion. Antony. Servilia. Julii Cooper. Cleo. Octavia. Caesarion. Octavian. Caesarion again. Octavian again (Octavian totally knows something's up with Caesarion). Antony. Julii Cooper Cleo Antony Cleo Antony Julii Cooper Cleo Antony Cleo Antony Cleo Julii Cooper. Lots of significant looks between Consul and Queen, as Julii Cooper realizes she's totally outclassed. You don't suppose anything will ever happen between Antony and Cleopatra, do you?
You'll never guess where Timon goes when he gets off work early. He goes home to his wife and kids. I never thought of him having a domestic home life before, probably because he spends so much time trying to get into his boss's pants. Timon has an unexpected visitor: his shaggy, bearded brother Levi, who comes in from the other door draped in Timon's three children and addressing him as "Tevye." Timon's surprised but sort of happy to see his brother after nine years. To explain his presence in Rome, Levi says his partners are starting a new business and he's there to run the local office, which means he's staying a while. Timon offers him dinner, but it's not a kosher house, so Levi's not hungry. "Already we're not good enough, eh?" Timon jokes. He offers wine, and Levi's cool with breaking out the Manischewitz. They talk about their respective businesses. Levi says that business is "up, down, up, down." He hears Timon's doing well, and Timon noncommittally agrees, "Up, down." Business is unpredictable, too. "Horses?" Levi asks. "Horses," Timon agrees. They're both lying, of course.
Back at the dinner party, Cleopatra is giving her farewells. "Your vassal queen shall weep until she sees you again," she tells Antony. He gives some completely lame response, because he can dish out the sarcastic come-ons, but he can't take them. Cleo turns to Julii Cooper and gushes, "Atia, I have made a friend for life. I feel it." She asks Julii Cooper to kiss her, and while Julii Cooper's planting one on each queenly cheek, the royal ear is whispered into once again this episode. We hear what's said this time: "Die screaming, you pig-spawn trollop," Julii Cooper hisses. Cleo's smile falters only a little as Julii Cooper steps back and says, "Safe journey." But Cleo's is not so much an offended expression as one of, Wow, you're really bad at this. Antony starts to quietly express his relief that Cleo's gone, but the doors haven't even closed behind her before Julii Cooper's braying, "Party's over! Everybody can go home now!"
Timon and his brother are staying up late, having drinks and laughs in his kitchen. Now that everyone else is asleep, Timon wants to know the real reason Levi's there. Levi tries to stick to his story about business, but Timon's not buying. "You hate Rome. You hate Romans." Levi finally admits, "Things were getting a bit hot for me in Jerusalem. Better I leave for a while." Turns out Levi has been complaining about the political situation back home. He starts to do the same here, getting kind of exercised about it, but Timon shushes him. "You're in Rome now. You're in my house. I've got a wife and children to think of. You keep that cack to yourself, do you hear me?" Levi says he does. Okay, then. Glad we got that resolved and it won't be coming up again.
day -- or at least daytime -- one of the local gangs is exerting a bit of muscle. They're torturing a pair of guys they've tied up in sacks and are holding under a fountain. They pull one out and kick the bundle, then stab it a few times. The second bundle is luckier; instead of getting stabbed, it gets slit open. Inside are a guy and a whole lot of angry, wet snakes. So maybe he wasn't so lucky. The fun over for now, the gang leader, a Poor Man's Erastes Fulmen if ever there was one, leans down to speak to the gasping victim. It's the typical "this is my turf, take this message back to your boss, and also a snake while you're at it" kind of posturing. But before he's even finished, a small group of yellow-robed priests passes through the street, trailing choking clouds of incense smoke and declaring a truce. On their shoulders, they're carrying the idol of a female figure on a small platform. Oddly, the gangsters seem to fall in line rather than deciding to kill the priests in annoyance. You know, like I would. The idol, "Mother Concord," seems to hold considerable power over them, because these amoral ruffians cease the horseplay immediately. The priest says that all captains are summoned to a parley at the Aventine Collegium (whatever that is) at six. The little party of priests continues through the streets, one of them whipping a long green stick through the air and making it whistle. So you know these priests demand respect, otherwise the one with the stick would get it wrapped around his neck.
Back home, Pullo is gently, tenderly, and in slightly slow motion, shaving...Vorenus. It's kind of hot.
Later, an extremely dangerous-looking crowd is gathered in front of a run-down shack, outside of which Mother Concord and her bearers have taken position. This must be the Aventine Collegium. It's like The Warriors two millennia in advance. The Poor Man's Erastes Fulmen from before wonders what's going on, but nobody else even knows who called the parley. A bearded longhair figures the priests must know, and starts to make a move to talk to them. But Poor Man's Erastes says that's not allowed. "You fucking savage," he adds. So if Longhair expects any respect from the thugs and villains that surround him, he's going to need to learn some proper etiquette. Right around then is when Vorenus and Pullo -- both clean-shaven -- make their way to the front. Vorenus begins addressing the crowd by introducing himself and saying he's there by authority of Mark Antony. He invites them inside the building. "You'll hear something to your benefit," he adds, which is enough to get them moving. The priests follow as well, still smoking and whipping and carrying Mother Concord.
Once inside the ratty shack (literally -- one guy throws a rat off the table before sitting down), the captains sit and face the front of the room. Having claimed the floor, Vorenus unstraps his sword and hands the scabbard to Pullo, then announces that the fight over the Aventine has been declared over by Mark Antony. "You can declare what you like, it doesn't make it so," scoffs Poor Man's Erastes Fulmen. Vorenus calmly but firmly claims that as the killer of Famous Original Erastes Fulmen, the Aventine is now his. When someone points out that Vorenus has no men, he says there's no shortage of criminals around. "Perhaps I'll take some of yours." At this, one captain angrily rises, until PMEF reminds him, "Remember the lady." We get another look at Mother Concord before the man sits down, shamefaced. PMEF tells Vorenus that he has their respect, and they want his in return. "I can't do that," Vorenus breezes, but says that Mark Antony has offered them each five thousand denarii a month in exchange for keeping the crime at the usual noise level and being more or less on call to protect the Consul when necessary. "I require your acknowledgement and acceptance of these terms," Vorenus declares. It couldn't be clearer that he's not asking. PMEF says five thousand denarii seems pretty generous, but one graybearded thug is offended at the cooperative mood overtaking the room. "One bark from this red dog and you bend your neck," he sneers, and asks Vorenus, "Why would sane and respectable men like ourselves do business with a poor, curse-hounded beast like you?" Behind Vorenus, Pullo's hand slowly goes to his sword hilt, but Vorenus says that it's a fair question. His answer? The alternative will be becoming Vorenus's enemies, who will "die much sooner than they expect." This time several swords come out to answer this challenge, until PMEF invokes "blessed Concord," and everyone backs off. So Vorenus slowly walks upstage and shoves the priests away from Concord's altar. He picks it up in both hands, holding it out in front of him at arm's length. The captains are frozen. I'm expecting him to bury the thing in Graybeard's head, but instead he just turns and smashes it against the nearest support pillar. The thing's pretty sturdy, too, because it takes ten hard blows to reduce it to its frame. The hardened criminals of the Aventine stand in mute shock, none more horrified than Pullo. What Vorenus has to say won't help, either. "I am a son of Hades!" he roars, completely out of breath after his little display. "I fuck Concord in her ass!" He throws down the remains of the idol and draws his sword from Pullo's hip, declaring the truce lifted. "Brother!" Pullo hisses urgently. I wonder how many times Ray Stevenson went back and forth on the proper line reading for that word. His concern is unfounded, though, because when Vorenus asks graybeard, "Will you do business with me?" he gets a slow nod from the last holdout. Nobody objects that Hades is the Greek god of the underworld and that Vorenus should claim to be a son of Pluto. He doesn't really seem to be in the mood to split hairs.
At Julii Cooper's place, breakfast is a little tense at the courtyard table. Mark Antony is acting all defensive about Cleopatra, while Julii Cooper is just acting all cold and letting him swing. Octavia joins them and remarks, "Fighting again? How tiresome." I hear that. Octavian arrives as well, and just as if he were completely failing to read the room, asks Antony about his money again. Antony's in no mood, and even Julii Cooper tells her son to back off for now. It's still herturn to give him shit. Antony irately wonders "what on Gaia's great arse" Octavian wants to do with the money in the first place, not that it's any of his business. But Octavian attempts a sincere answer, saying that he'd start by giving the plebs the money promised them by Caesar. Antony condescends to an increasingly annoyed Octavian, telling him, "Basic politics, lad: once they have the money, then spend it, then they will want more money. And what are you going to do then?" I never get tired of stupid people on this show talking to Octavian like he's the idiot in the room. Octavian, of course, saw this coming, so he's lawyered up. He acts like he's just trying to help Antony's people move things along faster, but nobody's buying that. Antony suggests to Octavian, "Tell your lawyer to shove a taper up his ass and set himself alight." Because Octavian's not getting a penny. Julii Cooper tries to make peace between her boys, but Antony gets up and storms away from the table. Either unaware or uninterested in the dark cloud now hanging over the room, Octavia blithely asks her brother to pass the fruit salad, and he does. Julii Cooper's pissed at her son for offending the man she thinks is the family's great protector. Octavian tries to claim the responsibility of protecting them as his own, but his mother scoffs. "Mark Antony buggers boys like you for a morning snack." You know things you hear parents say to their kids that you swear you'll never say to your own? My list just got a new entry. She insists that Octavian apologize to Antony for offending him, and storms away as well, leaving her children alone to have sex. But Octavia's got problems of her own: "There's not enough figs in this salad," she complains. Maybe we should start calling her Oblivia.
While stomping away from Julii Cooper's house, followed by his entourage and the empty sedan chair he hasn't even bothered to climb into, Antony happens to glance down a cross street and notice a bunch of guys beating up on someone. He doesn't intervene or even slow down, of course. He's got a lot of very important stomping to do. However, Julii Cooper's head slave Castor observes the scene as well, and chases the men off. Still lying on the street, the beaten man thanks Castor and begs him for work. But Castor's done his good deed for the day, and he turns away with a shrug. However he stops short when the beaten man offers, "I'll suck your cock!" What a tragedy that we won't get to see this week how that thrilling cliffhanger pays off.
Elsewhere in the house of Julii Cooper, Octavia's wondering why her brother keeps complaining about the money. "All you're doing is making mother anxious," she says. Like that doesn't happen on its own anyway. Octavian swears Octavia to secrecy before letting her in on his thoughts. "The Republic is on the brink of an abyss. Antony is a destructive brute. The Senate is weak and cowardly, and the plebs are roiling in want and anger. Rome is in need of new leadership." He says he's the man for the job, but as soon as he starts talking about "initiatives," Octavia starts laughing in his face. But then she realizes he's serious, and stops. And then they have sex. Not really.
Vorenus has a crew cleaning up the Aventine Collegium, Eriene among them. On an upper gallery, Pullo is quietly trying to warn Vorenus away from the Hades gimmick. Vorenus points out that it worked. Pullo agrees, but his point is that "The Gods don't like that sort of shit from mortal men." Vorenus claims he's just following orders for the good of the Republic, and asks if Pullo's with him or not. Pullo is, but he's still nervous. Kind of a switch for Pullo to be the one worried about blasphemy.
Obligatory public calendar shot, and then it's time for the Town Crier. He's got a particularly plot-advancing announcement this week, namely, that "Gaius Octavian Caesar, lawful son of Gaius Julius Caesar...personally will fulfill the terms of his beloved father's bequest to the people." In other words, Octavian will be personally handing out three hundred sesterces to every eligible citizen and soldier, having sold off his own property to do so. Meanwhile, Octavian himself is just about to rise for the day, and Antony and Julii Cooper are awakened by house staff who are clearly passing along the news to them. How do you think they'll take it?
Not well. Antony and Julie Cooper storm into the bedchamber of the still sleeping Octavian (and it's not like he's sleeping on the floor in a bare room, so there was a bit of propaganda to that announcement), demanding to know what the hell he's up to. Octavian calmly says that he was just fulfilling a promise, and says he didn't say anything about it before because he knew they'd object. Getting up to begin his toilet, Octavian says that he's "decided to enter public life. This seemed the best way to introduce myself to the people." Can't argue with that. "Hi! I'm Octavian! Want some money?" Antony says this is going to come off as a direct challenge to him, but Octavian isn't worried. He says a public display of unity should take care of that. Over Antony's increasing ire, he says that it makes sense, since they want the same thing. "While you're Consul, my name will lend weight to yours. And when your Consulship is over and you retire from politics as you have promised, I will step in as leader of the Caesarian Party. You will need protection from your enemies in the Senate, and I can provide that." He turns back to his basin. Antony doesn't know where to begin to respond. With Octavian's assumption that Antony needs protection? With his implied calling-out of Antony's having no intention whatsoever of retiring? With Octavian's smug, grating, fluty little voice? He just settles for grabbing Octavian by the ears and demanding, "Who the fuck do you think you are?" Why, Caesar's rightful heir, of course.
Julii Cooper gets between them, saying that Octavian can't even give away money he doesn't have. Octavian's figured that out, too; he's borrowed against his inheritance. Horrified, Julii Cooper and Antony ask how much. "Three million sesterces," Octavian tosses off. While he calmly dries his face, Julii Cooper loses her temper and starts whipping at the kid with his own towel. Until Octavian bitch-slaps her. Oh, snap. At this, Antony rushes forward in a rage and sticks Octavian's face into the water basin, then throws him on the bed and looks like he's about to do more. Instead he raises his hands to show what a reasonable, peaceful guy he is and marches out, closely followed by Julii Cooper. "You stupid little shit!" she spits at her son on the way out. "Fucking whore!" Octavian yells back, and now it's on. You thought it was on before? That was not on. This makes that look like off. Antony's all over the kid like ugly on an ape, even as Octavian tries to protect himself by flinging everything in reach at Antony to slow him down. Antony quickly pins Octavian, but then Julii Cooper prevails upon him to leave the kid alone. And while Antony is looking at her, Octavian grabs something heavy and smacks Antony across the chops with it. That looked painful. Less than a minute later, the room is trashed, with a flaming brazier tipped over on the floor, Julii Cooper screaming at them to stop, and Antony trying to hammer Octavian's head through the stone floor with his fist. Finally she pulls her boyfriend off her son. The commotion draws more slaves and Octavia, the latter of whom cradles her wounded brother while the former put out the fire. "You're lucky you're breathing!" Antony chokes out as Julii Cooper drags him out of there. Octavia calls him an animal, and her brother screams at him, "You're not fit to lead Rome!" The slaves chant, "Jer-RY! Jer-RY! Jer-RY!" The siblings are left alone, crying and lying on the floor. And then they have sex. Not really.
The Collegium is just about open for business, and Pullo's interviewing a job applicant. She's a world-weary, busty woman who must be all of twenty-five. Therefore she's not applying to be a whore, but a supervisor. Pullo asks her name. "Romans call me Gaia," she says, but declines to say what her own people call her. She wants her own room, full access to the menu, and a fifth of a percent of the brothel's take. "Saving up to buy your freedom, eh?" Pullo guesses. She dryly says, "No, a fur coat." Pullo hires her on the spot.
The camera follows her out, so we can get a good long look at what that fur coat is going to be covering one day. On her way up the stairs and out of there, she crosses paths with Mascius, the fellow ex-soldier from last season. He's all scruffy-looking and wearing an ill-advised beard that emphasizes his overbite, but Pullo immediately recognizes him. They greet each other warmly, and Pullo asks if Mascius is there for a job. Mascius confirms it, saying that farming didn't really work out all that well for him. Pullo warns him, "It's a dark road we're on and no one knows where it will lead." Mascius philosophizes that all roads lead to the same place, so Pullo agrees to take him in back to see Vorenus and "cheer the old bastard up." Because that worked so well last time. Mascius wonders if what he's heard about Vorenus's family is true. "True enough," Pullo foreshadows. "Not a fucking word."
Vorenus is hanging in his back office, but if Mascius expects his old legion-mate to shake hands or embrace or even offer more than a ten-watt smile, he's disappointed. "You tried to warn him off, did you?" Vorenus asks Pullo, glad to hear that Pullo did. Vorenus reiterates Pullo's warning. "We here are pimps and knifemen. You sure you've sunk so low?" Mascius says that he walked there from his farm and slept in ditches on the way, but when he arrived in Rome, he heard all about the "black hearted villain" who's "in league with the gods below" by the name of Lucius Vorenus, and realized his luck has changed. Vorenus chuckles and gives Pullo an "I told you so." Pullo's still disapproving, though. "What more can the gods do to me?" Vorenus scoffs as he gets up and leaves the room. "What more can they do to me now?" Pullo doesn't want to find out. There are eight episodes left, so I'm sure the gods will come up with something.
It's happy-time at Servilia's house. She giddily receives Cicero as a visitor, hanging all over him as she exults in the "beginning of the end" for her enemies. "A fool like Antony was sure to blunder. They'll fight among themselves and they'll destroy each other." Yes, much like...oh, let's see...the Roman Empire. Cicero's skeptical that Octavian will put up much of a fight against Antony, but Servilia knows that Caesar picked the kid for a reason. "He'll surprise you," she assures him. They certainly are well up to speed on what's been going on behind Julii Cooper's closed compound doors. She gets to her point, which is that she thinks the Senate should ask Brutus to return. This sounds a lot like a bold move to Cicero, so of course he shoots it down. He wants to wait and see. That doesn't sound too noble to Servilia. Wake up, lady. Cicero doesn't do noble. He calls his plan "sensible." For now, he wants Servilia to send a message to Brutus: "Tell your son that I -- no, 'his friends in Rome' look forward to seeing him again at some point in the near future. Hm." Even Cicero is embarrassed at his own spinelessness. Servilia agrees to relay the message, her mood considerably dampened. Any chance Cicero had of getting some has gone completely out the window.
Back to Octavian's bedroom. Octavia's there, and so is Julii Cooper, but the former occupant is gone, having left behind a letter. As Julii Cooper sits on his bed and reads it, we hear him say in voice-over that he's writing to say farewell, because he's leaving Rome. But he still thinks she's wrong, and he's still determined to go into politics. As Octavian says where he's going and who he's staying with when he gets there (which I'm not going to bother looking up the spelling of either proper noun, since he's almost certainly lying anyway), we cut to Octavian in a soldier's armor, on horseback leading a small detachment of foot soldiers. The little party travels along the city walls, passing a party of slaves being driven along on foot. There's also a caged cart with cloth hanging inside the bars, so we can't see inside. Fortunately, the camera takes us within to show us some of the dirty, dispirited occupants. And those occupants include Niobe's sister, Vorena the Elder, Vorena the Younger, and, last but not least, Little Lucius. But Erastes said he killed them! I guess you can't trust anyone any more.