Rome TV Show - Here Comes The Judge - Rome Photos & Videos, Rome Reviews & Rome Recaps | TWoP

Aired 10-29-2005

All the icky fighting's over -- at least overseas. Cato and Scipio suffer a final defeat and commit suicide in Africa. Caesar returns to Rome, claiming that he intends to put the Republic back together. To that end, he starts handing out appointments like candy: for example, Octavian, also back in town, gets named Pontiff. As for Vorenus, he runs afoul of his old boss Erastes Fulmen for a second time, so Erastes decides to pay a visit to exact some restitution. Except when Erastes shows up, he's blocked by the ancient Roman equivalent of a huge Secret Service motorcade, because Caesar's in Vorenus's kitchen offering him a gig as a magistrate. Vorenus reluctantly accepts, which leaves Pullo feeling left out and betrayed. Speaking of betrayal, Servilia's still pissed at Caesar (and at Brutus, by extension), so she decides that it's time to put her little Julian pawn, Octavia, to work. She sends her to find out about Caesar's "affliction" from Octavian, even insisting that Octavia seduce her brother to get the secret from him. Yeah, you heard me. Despite the incestuous coupling, Octavian isn't spilling. And when Julii Cooper gets wind of it, Octavia reveals to her furious mother that Servilia claimed that Julii Cooper killed Octavia's ex-husband Glabius. Got all that? The upshot is that Julii Cooper sends Timon and his men to take a humiliating revenge on Servilia in the street, in a scene that even Timon appears to regret. Fat lot of good that does anyone.

Here's a nice, non-specific subtitle: "Africa -- After the battle of Thapsus." Well, thanks for narrowing that down to a point in the space-time continuum comprising twelve million square miles and a couple of millennia. So far. To be more precise, though, we're in what is now Tunisia. Quit making me look this shit up, show. Every time I do, I catch more historical inaccuracies. For example, Scipio was killed at the Battle of Thapsus, and Cato was already at Utica when it went down. But Cato's here on the edge of the battlefield, decently covered and talking to Scipio, who's very much alive. Okay, pretty much alive. Exhausted and defeated-looking, the two Republicans are busy watching an elephant die. It looks like they just got their asses handed to them. Somewhere else, mind you, because this production can't afford to show even the aftermath of a battle properly. There's, like, one lazy elephant and one dead guy, and that's about it. Scipio tells Cato they should go. By way of response, Cato Clavins that elephants sleep standing up because if they lie down they can't get up again. Cato's sitting as he says this, by the way, which may or may not be significant. Scipio politely feigns interest in Cato's little factoid, then repeats that they should go. For a destination, he suggests nearby Utica (pronounced here like "Ootica"). ["I wonder if they refer to beef patties served in buns as 'steamed hams' there." -- Wing Chun] Cato agrees without much enthusiasm, and gets up to start walking. And we see for the first time that they're accompanied by the ragged remains of a beat-up army, which follows its hapless leaders along the trail. There are maybe a hundred guys with them. You know how many men Scipio lost at the Battle of Thapsus? 30,000. I understand that a single episode of this show doesn't have the budget to mount war scenes on a cinematic scale, but maybe they could have set aside a few grand to have someone DOS Wikipedia for the season or something.

The group arrives in what must be Ootica, tramping along a narrow alley while turbaned civilians peer out through their curtains. Cato and Scipio follow a couple of their men into an abandoned, grimy house, and order water, bread, and wine to be brought to them. Party!

Later that night, Scipio and Cato are having their sad little dinner. Cato's back in his off-the-shoulder toga, politely declining Scipio's invitation to get drunk with him just this once. I don't know why Cato refuses; dressed like that, everyone is going to think he's blotto anyway. Scipio tries to cheer Cato up (although he really should know better by now), insisting that where there's life, there's hope. Cato: "If we've done anything, old friend, we've disproved that proverb." He remarks that the bread he's eating is "stubborn," and asks the nearest soldier, a young man named Aquinas, for a knife. Aquinas hands over a huge blade that probably skewered some guy's liver in the very recent past. Cato advises Scipio to go make his peace with Caesar, but Scipio insists that he'll do whatever Cato does. "I wouldn't do that," Cato says with dry humor. I like him more when he's been defeated, humiliated, exiled, and reduced to squatting in an abandoned house on a dark alley in some foreign backwater. But then, I like most people better that way. Scipio says they can talk about it later. Cato excuses himself to the room to pee, managing to sneak that ginormous Crocodile Dundee "knoife" out of the room with him without anyone's noticing. He sits down, contemplates the weapon for a moment, turns the point towards himself, and sinks it into his abdomen. "[Squelches]," reads my closed captioning. Cato gasps and makes a face like this hurts even more than he expected it to. Then he quickly and neatly lies down to expire.

By M. Giant

Out in the dining room, Scipio has finally noticed that knife and man are both gone from the table. Way to let your weapon out of your sight, Aquinas. Scipio rushes to check on Cato, then cries, too late, for help. Aquinas and another soldier hurry to obey, while a third man -- a local draftee, most likely -- takes that stubborn bread from Cato's plate and starts munching. Cold!

The morning, outside the city walls, Scipio and the twelve or so guys that constitute the remains of his army watch Cato's corpse burn merrily on its pyre. Scipio tells Aquinas to send the other men away. Now that it's just the two of them (three if you count the charred carcass), Scipio sits down on a convenient stone and unwraps his cape from around his neck. "Do it now," he tells Aquinas. The soldier draws the same knife that killed Cato -- now cleaned of blood and bread crumbs, at least -- and approaches Scipio, who says, "Cut deep, boy." Aquinas says goodbye and slashes Scipio's throat, which is not stubborn at all. Aquinas drops the knife and gently lowers Scipio's large body off the stone. But now who's going to burn Scipio? "Guys? Come back. And bring some marshmallows."

From this sad scene, we go directly to a comic version of this sad scene. We're back in Rome, where everyone who's anyone is watching an evening pantomime of the deaths of Cato and Scipio. Except in this version, the guy playing Cato is wearing what looks like (but can't possibly be) a plastic wig with his off-the-shoulder toga; the guy playing Scipio's wearing white armor; and there's another guy running around swinging a giant phallus and a couple of chicks waving their boobs around. Most of the audience seems to find all of this hilarious, for some reason, except for the regulars. Caesar's back in town already, because gods forbid we ever actually get to see him reentering the city. He's right there in the front row, smiling indulgently, a stone-faced Brutus at his right hand. Julii Cooper sits behind Caesar and to his left, looking patiently bored and above this plebian entertainment. Because naked people running around in front of an audience is classier when it's happening in her living room. The pantomime finished, the cast takes a curtain call which consists of the actor playing Cato hollering "Happy day!" over and over, in reference to Caesar's victory and the return of the Roman soldiers. Whoa, the Town Crier is not going to be happy about his one weekly scene being given to someone else this episode. Everyone applauds except for Brutus, who just sits there like Ed Harris when Elia Kazan got his honorary Oscar.

The day, Vorenus and Pullo make their way through the crowded Roman streets, still in their armor and laden with gear. They're greeted and welcomed home by any number of people as they pass. Eventually, they arrive in the passageway to the courtyard of Vorenus's building, where Vorenus stands and looks at where Niobe is talking to someone with her back to him. His oldest daughter Vorena is the first to spot him, and she runs to her father for a hug, closely followed by the younger daughter, neither of whom appears to have aged a day. Niobe turns to see her husband as well, and, believe it or not, she isn't holding somebody else's baby this time. Vorenus goes to Niobe and they kiss, happy to see each other and horny as hell. She leads him upstairs as Pullo watches, his expression bittersweet at witnessing the reunion. Pullo just seems like he generally prefers soldiering to civilian life. Plus, when they're off at war, he gets to be Vorenus's girlfriend.

Up in the apartment, Vorenus loves what Niobe's done with the place. Although he seems a little worried to see that they have four slaves now, wondering how they can afford it on his soldier's salary. She tells him she and Lyde are doing good business at the butcher shop. If an old-fashioned guy Vorenus is worried about his wife making more money than he does, he doesn't say anything about it. That might have something to do with the fact that, by this time, she's already got his armor off and is on top him on their bed. Amazing what that can smooth over after a couple of years of soldering overseas and not having sex with Cleopatra.

Down in the courtyard, Pullo is changing out of his own armor when he spots J. No, carrying stuff around. He runs over and sweeps her into a hug that literally lifts her off her feet, and says it's good to see her. She actually returns the sentiment verbally, and Pullo is surprised and please to note that she finally got a line. Actually, he says, "You speak our words!" She offers to get him something, and he has her pour him some water. While she's doing that, he remembers something and runs back to his pack to pull out a shiny metal wrist bangle that he brought back for her. He presents it to her, and she fumbles with it a bit before he says, "Let me," and clamps it to her arm. "Lovely," he declares. Oh, Pullo, you big softie, giving your slave a barely-symbolic handcuff.

The Town Crier is doing his thing, but he's really not feeling it this time. Obviously, the fact that the Cato-actor got all his lines has crawled up his toga and died. He doesn't really have anything to say that advances the plot, unless the "Ides" he mentions are the ones we've been waiting for. Worse, all of his fancy orator moves are gone, and when he's done with his little commercial for the Capitoline Brotherhood of Millers ("True Roman bread for true Romans"), he disrespectfully tosses his tablet to one of his PAs. And the decline begins. week he'll be mumbling, and a couple of weeks after that he'll be checking himself into Corsica and pleading "exhaustion."

Octavian is on his way back to Rome with Timon and a couple of other guys. The young nobleman has made a pit stop just in sight of the city walls, and is peeing against an aqueduct support pillar. Because even though everyone wears togas and talks funny, this show keeps it real. Timon comments on Rome: "The fat old bitch herself, eh? Must be good to be home. What is it, two years you've been gone?" You wouldn't know it to look at Octavian. If it's been two years, he's used a whole lot of sunscreen. Octavian does that thing where you answer a question with a question, which is rude as it is, but even ruder when the question is this: "Are you still fucking my mother?" Timon laughs heartily, answering, "When she'll have me." Remounting his horse, Octavian says that explains Timon's "excessive familiarity." Chastened, Timon apologizes. But Octavian's clearly grown up a bit, because he says it's cool and that he's glad he's coming home. They continue on their way, Timon making a sour "Well, that makes one of us" face.

The little party soon arrives in Julii Cooper's stableyard, where the lady herself is waiting with Octavia to greet Octavian. I don't know if they did anything to make him look older, but Octavian does seem taller as he hugs his mother and sister. Julii Cooper invites Octavian in for a wash: "Let's get the stink of horse off you." Timon is looking on with an expectant leer, but Julii Cooper brushes him off with a distracted "I'll see you later." Timon reacts with disappointment. What, he wants some right now? Was he expecting the boss to give him a bath at the same time as her son? What kind of family does he think this is, anyway?

Over at the house of Junii, Brutus is trying to get Servilia to get ready to go, already, since they have dinner plans with Caesar at Julii Cooper's that evening. Servilia, of course, is not that amped about dining with the man, but Brutus insists that after Caesar's treatment of Brutus, "honor demands --" Servilia stops short at Brutus's very use of the word. "Not honor, then," Brutus amends. "Common sense." He says he can't ask Caesar for mercy and then dis him. "What sort of man asks for mercy in the first place?" Servilia demands. Brutus -- who's been unsuccessfully trying to get Servilia to look at him this whole time -- assures his mother that he's not proud: "In lieu of a noble suicide, you shall have to be content with that." You know, Brutus, if your mom still wishes you were dead more than a year after you came home from the war, maybe it's time to think about getting your own place. I'll even buy you a hot plate. Servilia calls for her shawl, although Brutus is giving her an out by offering to make her excuses. Servilia insists that she's going, since not to go would be perceived as a weakness. Brutus goes to help Servilia with her shawl, saying it might be good for her to see Caesar again, and to see that "the loss of his affection is not worth this endless raging sorrow." As Servilia puts her shawl up over her giant Roman hairdo, she insists that she objects to Caesar on political grounds only, fooling no one.

We join Julii Cooper's party already in progress, Caesar boasting about one of his many recent victories. I'm starting to understand why they cast someone with such a big head. The Chief Augur is there as well, and he's asking what's for the conqueror: "Germany, perhaps?" But instead of going far away and killing a bunch of people who aren't bothering him, Caesar says he has to put on "a triumph" in the month: "They're damnable beasts to organize. But the people love a good parade, and we must not disappoint them." I'm glad to hear that a "triumph" in this context refers to a celebration and not another shitload of fighting that we won't even get to see.

With that, Julii Cooper crosses the room to effusively greet her newest arrivals, Brutus and Servilia. "Joyful to be here," they both lie. Julii Cooper notices that Servilia is wearing a mourning shawl, and asks who died. "A great many have died," Servilia says pointedly. Oh, fine, be like that. Julii Cooper tries to rescue the moment, but is instead saved by Brutus's astonishment at seeing Octavian, looking exactly the same after all these years only perhaps taller. Servilia looks on disapprovingly as Brutus greets the son of her rival, but thaws in time to smile secretly at the daughter of her rival. Ahem. Julii Cooper leads Servilia off-screen, without Servilia's ever having said a word of greeting to Caesar. Caesar watches her walk by, his expression inscrutable. Not that there's ever a lot of scruting going on with that guy anyway.

During the after-dinner conversation, Caesar is holding court with a description of a zoological marvel he encountered in Africa: "It is the height of four men with a long neck like a goose, spots like a leopard, and the speed of a horse." It's a giraffe, you moron! Sorry, I know that's not fair, but I couldn't help myself. Hey, I've got one: it has a head the size of a five-gallon bucket, the haircut of Jim Carrey in Dumb and Dumber, and a rapidly growing god complex. The answer to my little riddle says that he's trying to have one of the animals he described brought over for his triumph, "but the wretched creatures keep dying on the way here. They do not like the sea." Julii Cooper advises Caesar to go on vacation after all the work of organizing his triumph, but Caesar says that that's when he's going to have to get to work putting the Republic back together. Amid various significant looks between Octavia and Servilia, Brutus asks Caesar how he plans to do that. Caesar opens the floor to suggestions, which gives Julii Cooper an opening to complain about her own narrow concerns du jour. Caesar politely says he'll look into them, and then turns to Octavian to ask what his plan would be. Surprisingly, Octavian doesn't seem to have this figured out already, but that only makes it more impressive when he quickly comes up with a plan. He suggests a large public works program, employing citizens and free men, as well as appointing a hundred new Senators of whose loyalty Caesar may be assured. "What is your point, Octavian?" Brutus asks politely. Octavian assures Brutus that he believes "[Brutus's] capitulation is sincere." "How nice of you to say so," Brutus says dryly. Caesar acts like he just got this great brainwave, and asks the Chief Augur if one of his pontiffs hasn't recently died. When the Chief Augur confirms it, Caesar nominates Octavian to take the dead man's place. He overrides everyone's objections -- the Chief Augur's, that Octavian is so young, and Octavian's own, as he says he had hoped to concentrate on his poetry. Julii Cooper, of course, thinks this is a great idea, and Caesar agrees, "Poetry can wait." ["Dictum. I'm not sure what a pontiff did back in the olden days (did they have popes, really?), but I do know this: no job on earth is worth turning down so you can concentrate on your poetry." -- Wing Chun] Servilia cuts in that it shouldn't wait too long: "Poetry's a young man's calling, don't you think?" In the awkward silence that follows, there are literally crickets chirping.

Daytime. In the courtyard of his building, Vorenus is telling his bored daughters and his so-called grandson (now a very cute toddler) about the victory at Thapsus. He's got a wall of domino-sized stones or some such set up on the table as a visual aid to represent the city walls. Whoa, whoa, whoa, don't bust your budget there, Rome. As Vorenus goes on at excitable (and uncharacteristically foul-mouthed) length, Pullo notices J. No carrying water, and gets up to do it for her, over her objections. Vorenus's war story has gotten to the point where Scipio's nine hundred elephants panic and charge right back into their own lines. "Boom! Chaos!" he shouts, sending the dominoes flying. Little Lucius bursts into tears and runs away. Vorenus tells him not to cry: "It was only a game." It's not that you scared him, Vorenus; he's sad because, like this show's entire viewing audience, he just realized that he got screwed out of another spectacular battle scene. Get used to it, kid. Niobe pointedly remarks that Vorenus must be bored sitting around the house all day. Apparently, he's been home for a month, and although they're not short of money, she would really prefer that he started doing something with himself besides annoying the kids. He's not keen on going to work at the butcher shop, but she insists that "it's something to do."

Apparently, that's all it took for her to talk Vorenus into it, because we see him and Pullo in butcher's hats. Except these aren't neat white paper chapeaux perched on their heads like you see in old cookbooks, but rough leather skull-condoms that are depressing even to look at. They're laboring away at pig carcasses in a busy alley. "Smells like old times," Pullo cracks. Is he getting paid, or is his labor going toward room and board, or is he simply there because the surgical technology to detach him from Vorenus's hip doesn't yet exist? Pullo and Vorenus sit down to reminisce for a moment, but Niobe's sister Lyde quickly puts a stop to that. "You'll not learn a trade sitting on your pugas," she advises, a sentiment of which I heartily approve. Not because I deplore laziness, but because I'm always open to learning a new synonym for "ass." Perhaps later I'll go kick some pugas in the forums. For now, the boys get back to work.

Vorenus has barely finished hacking off his hunk of pork when he notices a commotion a short way up the street. A couple of baldish toughs are hassling a frightened debtor, and are just about ready to cut the guy's nose off for him when Vorenus hollers at them to stop. Leaving off their harassment, one of them asks what it matters to Vorenus. Vorenus explains that every time he meets somebody without a nose, he just ends up having to kill him. Not really. He just says, "Bad for trade," like we don't all know that he'd just rather get mixed up in someone else's fight than do any actual work. Although the street is still crowded, it's suddenly gotten very quiet, a large empty space having opened up around Vorenus and the thugs. They ask Vorenus who he is. He approaches threateningly, introducing himself. One of them has heard his name before: "Soldier boy, isn't it? Up by the dyeworks. Tasty wife." Vorenus grits at them not to mention his wife as Pullo quietly picks up the meat cleaver Vorenus left on the counter. Vorenus orders the thugs off the street and turns his back on them, which gets him spat on. The taller guy says that Vorenus isn't a soldier anymore: "You're a fucking shopkeeper's clerk." Vorenus turns back with a lightning quick backhand to the man's face. The crowd gasps. Threats are exchanged, but then the two thugs notice Pullo and his cleaver waiting in backup, and turn to leave. Lyde, having seen the whole thing, looks worried. She tells Vorenus that he just made a mistake: "Those were Erastes Fulmen's men. He won't take disrespect like that." Then how will he take his disrespect? Would he like it in the Forum? Would he like it with decorum? He will not take such disrespect, he's very likely to object!

Um. Sorry. Later, at home, Niobe isn't any happier than her sister was to hear what Vorenus has been getting up to at work. Vorenus claims not to be worried, but Niobe says that Erastes has gotten to be the big thug on campus since Pompey's gangs left. "I am no prole to be abused," Vorenus argues, which is a curious argument considering that he got into this in the first place on behalf of a prole who was being abused. "I was a Prefect in the Evocati! Caesar himself gave me a horse." A lot of good that does Vorenus now. Like Caesar's going to show up at his house and protect him from Erastes or something. Just then, there's a knock on the door. Niobe watches nervously as Vorenus gets up to answer it. But there's no one there except the guy whose nose Vorenus saved, kneeling on the threshold and extending a large loaf of bread and his heartfelt thanks. So it was all worth it. Maybe if they'd threatened to kill the guy, he would have actually offered Vorenus a whole sandwich.

Octavia and Servilia are weaving together. For once, that's not a euphemism. So their relationship has progressed to that point, has it? They're actually sitting side by side, each at her own loom, busily working their shuttles just out of frame so we can't get a good look at what they're actually doing. Octavia commiserates with Servilia over her pain at seeing Caesar the other night. "Oh, I'm used to pain," Servilia says. "I don't mind it." I find that kind of talk so tedious. "Never mind me, this cross is quite comfortable and I can see my house from here." Octavia gathers her courage and says she wishes Servilia didn't care for Caesar so much. There's as much concern as jealousy in the remark, though. "I wish I didn't care for you so much," Servilia returns, and they kiss before returning to their weaving. Servilia comments on Octavian's all-growns-up-ness, and on Caesar's fondness for him. Octavia lets slip the rumor about Caesar taking Octavian as a lover, as well as Octavian's denials at the time that revolved around Caesar's "terrible affliction." Servilia's ears prick up at that like those of my cats when I pull out the drawer with the can opener in it. What, this tidbit about Caesar's fits never came up before in the last year or so? Servilia wants Octavia to find out the details of Caesar's affliction so she can know which god has cursed him. Octavia, surprised at Servilia's avid interest in the matter, wants to know how she's going to do that when Octavian was sworn to secrecy. And is also smarter than Octavia and Servilia put together, she doesn't add. Servilia simply says, "It is the weapon I seek. With the god's help, I can destroy him." Octavia isn't trying to hear that, but Servilia leans on her until Octavia reluctantly agrees to ask her brother as a favor.

Back at home, Octavia asks with studied casualness what Octavian's reading. He's studying up on some boring crap for his new Pontiff gig. Octavia complains that she's bored. Maybe she could spend a few hours cleaning the house and relieving one of the slaves who facilitate her boredom. Or she could come over and do some of my work, so I could maybe recover some memory of what boredom is like when there's not a TV involved. Instead of suggesting either of these things, her brother offers to read to her. She accepts. Because asleep is better than bored, I guess.

Later, brother and sister are out on some balcony, Octavian is reading Octavia some love poetry. Well, that's...borderline inappropriate. At least his tone is as cold and businesslike as always. Octavia stops him, saying this isn't really doing it for her. "Tell me a secret," she says. "Something shocking and dangerous that nobody knows." Octavian claims ignorance of any such thing. "I know," Octavia fakes. "What about Caesar and his mysterious affliction?" Octavian awkwardly pleads forgetfulness of the whole matter, then youthful dishonesty, but his sister isn't buying. "Either you were lovers, or some god has cursed Caesar," she says. "Which is it?" That triggers a brief digression in which Octavian says there are no gods. He's more inclined to believe in a single deity rather than in the polytheistic system embraced by those around him. Dammit, I should have known this kid was a Cylon. Lucky for him they haven't yet invented airlocks. Octavia complains that her brother doesn't trust her. Octavian insists that he does; he just wonders why Octavia wants to know that in particular. "I doubt very much that you have any terrible secrets of your own worth telling," she explains. Octavian says she's wrong, and proves it by saying, "I've tortured and killed a man." He explains the whole story of Vorenus and Evander and how he helped kill the latter. He seems to feel some remorse over it now. Or maybe it's just embarrassment. Had to tell. "Bravo, I suppose," Octavia says, disappointed. "You asked for a terrible secret," Octavian says. Yeah, but a different one. Octavia gives up -- for now, at least.

Okay, it's bad enough that Niobe has to put up with her husband's army buddy and his slave girl hanging around in their building all the time, but now Pullo's sitting naked in the middle of the courtyard while J. No pours oil over his shoulders. Talk about stretching out your welcome. Of course, as I write this, I realize that as soon as this episode aired, any number of forum posters probably pulled the Sunday want ads back out of the recycling bin to see if Vorenus's building has a vacancy. But back to Niobe; at this moment, she is occupied with teaching her oldest daughter how to operate an abacus (it seems to keep freezing up, forcing Vorena to hit [bead]-[bead]-[bead] repeatedly) when Erastes Fulmen himself charges in, accompanied by a bunch of his men and angrily shouting Vorenus's name. Pullo quickly stands, wrapping a cloth around his waist and snatching a tiny little dagger off the table in front of him. It's the kind where the handle goes between the middle and third fingers, turning a fist into an edged weapon. We don't get to see Pullo's other little dagger.

Vorenus appears upstairs in the doorway to his place. Niobe starts to lead her daughter up the stairs to their apartment, but they find their path blocked by the henchman who previously spit on Vorenus. Erastes compliments Niobe's beauty, and adds that his own hideous wife sends her regards. Vorenus comes down the stairs, nudging the thug aside to stand right in front of Erastes, calmly staring him down with his hands behind his back. Okay, there have been a few references in the dialogue to Vorenus's unimposing height throughout the season which I haven't bothered to document, but it's worth mentioning that Vorenus towers over tiny little Erastes. Shut up, I'm 6'2". Anyway, Erastes launches into this long, mock-friendly spiel welcoming Vorenus back from the wars: "Must be hard to adjust. Different rules. Different fucking rules!" He's dropped the hail-fellow-well-met façade in favor of some full-on Fulmenating, and uses Vorenus's striking of his enforcer as an example of the different rules he's talking about. "I'm allowed to chastise my people," he explains, and smashes an urn over the poor guy's head by way of illustration. "Regular citizens like you are not allowed to touch them." Vorenus tells him to get to the point. Erastes raises his voice to tell the gathered neighbors, "This is the second time that Lucius Vorenus has shown me disrespect!" He announces that, at the market day, Vorenus will come to Erastes in the Forum, kneel before him, kiss his feet, and apologize. Vorenus doesn't look like he thinks that's going to happen at all. So Erastes adds, "If he does not do this, I will come here and kill him. But before he does, he will see his wife and daughters raped, and then I will burn down this building." Pullo starts moving toward Erastes from behind, dagger at the ready, but Vorenus tells him to hold. Pullo, of course, holds. Vorenus says that Erastes has said his peace, and can go now. Erastes goes, his men following. One of them is supporting the guy with a fresh urn-print on his skull, and the spitter roughly bumps Vorenus as he passes. Vorenus watches them leave, and shares a hard look with Pullo. Wow, Erastes really must have gotten more powerful if he can come in there all Hopper from A Bug's Life and bully not only Vorenus, but all of Vorenus's neighbors. I'll bet if somebody lifted that tacky-ass gold chain from around his neck, he'd wilt like the Wicked Witch of the West.

Servilia's not at all satisfied with what Octavia has learned: "So the wife of this Lucius Vorenus is a whore. What's that to me?" Remember how the advance print ads for this show had the headline, "Every city has its secrets"? This one is fast running out of them. Octavia advises Servilia that it's enough to know that Caesar suffers, but Servilia insists that she go back and get the whole story from Octavian: "Promise him something. You do have something he wants." Octavia isn't sure whether she should be scandalized, but she has a pretty good idea. Servilia spells it out: "A young man will tell his lover anything." Octavia is shocked that Servilia is even suggesting it. "You know he wants you," Servilia says. What? How does anyone know that? There's been no sign of that even in this episode, let alone the whole series. The kid couldn't even make googly eyes at her over a scroll of love poetry. But rather than arguing this completely out-of-the-blue point, Octavia says she doesn't want to betray her brother and her family. "Your family is a nest of snakes," Servilia insists. Way to get her on your side, there, lady. ["But...fair point." -- Wing Chun] Octavia says they love her, and Servilia says she's the one who loves Octavia. "You call this love?" Octavia asks. Oh, come on. Nothing says love like whoring your girlfriend out to her brother for your own purposes. Octavia's about to be off like a prom toga, but Servilia stops her at the door by blurting, "Your mother killed Glabius!" Oh, good God. There's even less reason for Servilia to know that than she does the thing with Octavian. Octavia stops short, and Servilia continues, "My people caught one of the men who did it. One of Timon's men." Oh, whatever. Timon needs to be a lot more careful about letting Servilia's people catch his people. Servilia gently caresses Octavia's neck and says she's sorry. This scene would have been so much more powerful if it had had any groundwork whatsoever.

It's a busy market day in the Forum. Erastes and his men walk into the Forum in slow motion and start looking around for Vorenus. Maybe you should have specified a time, genius.

Back home, the Vorenian daughters are being sent away with Lyde to stay in the country with their cousins. Niobe herself is insisting on staying with Vorenus. She kisses her daughters, and sends them over to the living-room shrine to ask the gods for a blessing. Vorenus follows them as Lyde tries and fails to get Niobe to beg Vorenus to do as Erastes asks. Niobe says he'd never do it and she'd never ask. Her, sure, but I can't believe the neighbors wouldn't have anything to say about Vorenus's actions potentially getting their homes incinerated. They could plan a defense, circulate a petition to evict Vorenus, kill him themselves and deliver his head to Erastes -- something. Instead, they have decided, to a citizen, to leave this matter to be settled by the people with speaking roles and lit out for the territories, because there's not another soul to be seen in the whole complex. Whatever. Over at the living-room shrine, Vorenus is reminding his daughters always to remember they are Vorenii, and that their parents love them very much. With more hugs from Niobe, daughters and sister-in-law are sent out with the slaves (save J. No, who's also staying). They pass Pullo, who's busy sharpening a sword on the balcony. Niobe nervously snaps at J. No to clear off the table, even if it's the last thing she does. Except for that part at the end there. Vorenus asks Niobe, clearly not for the first time, to go with the others, but she refuses and tells him to stop asking.

Over in the Forum, Erastes has clearly gotten bored of standing around like a doofus waiting for an apology that isn't going to come, so he decides to lead his men over to the home of a man who's now had time to prepare gods-know-what kind of reception for him. Be funny if he showed up to rape himself some chicks and found himself staring down the barrel of half the Thirteenth Legion.

Instead, though, it's just Vorenus, Niobe, and Pullo. The ex-soldiers aren't even wearing their armor, so they must have turned it back in for the deposit or something. Pullo is busy secreting weapons all over the courtyard so that he can easily grab them in whatever melee may ensue. That would probably be handy for someone like Kiefer, but for Pullo, here's a tip: they're swords. You're not going to run out of bullets. Niobe prays over what may be a last meal. I hope Vorenus isn't hungry, because the table setting laid before him is nothing but four wicked-looking blades. Needing such an assortment of utensils doesn't speak very highly of your butchering skills, dudeus.

By M. Giant

Moments later, Caesar leads Vorenus out onto the balcony and holds up his new magistrate's hand triumphantly. The previously abandoned courtyard below -- which suddenly contains every goddamn citizen in Rome -- erupts into cheers. Pullo applauds with everyone else as Caesar embraces Vorenus and acknowledges the repeated chanting of his name from the joyous throng. But Pullo quickly gets bored and leaves, his expression one of uncertain disappointment. You'd think he'd be happier to see that his two idols are best buds now.

Octavia lurks in her mother's house, watching from the shadows as Julii Cooper goes about the business of her day -- namely, haranguing the three slaves who are busy fitting her for a new dress. Doesn't poor Julii Cooper ever get to relax? She's always bossing or beating or interrogating her slaves. When does the poor woman sleep? At the moment, she just has to continue carrying her daily burden of toil, because no confrontation with her daughter is forthcoming. Octavia's got something else to do.

And here he is. Octavian is back at his studies in his room as a slave fans him with an ostrich feather. Octavia wanders in and starts snooping around in his scroll bins, asking if he's got "anything comical" to read. Octavian doesn't think so. I could have told her that. There's more humor in a single Fred Bassett strip than in this kid. Octavia considers her move, and snaps her fingers for the ostrich feather guy to leave, claiming to Octavian, "He looks at me." Octavian tells her to have Castor beat him, and gets up to call for another slave. Octavia stops him, saying it's nice to be alone and sitting on his bed. She invites him to lie down with her. He's suspicious, and when she asks why he won't, he says, "I can think of several reasons." Octavia flirts that he used to come to her bed every night. "Not every night," he protests. "Only when I was scared." "You were scared a great deal." "I'm not scared now." And to prove it, he walks over to her, although he doesn't join her on the bed. Suddenly, Octavia decides she's embarrassed: "I thought you wanted me." He doesn't confirm or deny. She tells him that what with being a man now, he can take what he wants. She takes his hand and pulls him into a most un-sibling-like kiss, which he returns. So I guess it must be true, even though he doesn't seem all that into it even now. Laying him out on the bed, Octavia begins undressing and climbing all over him. This is twisted. Before long, she's disappeared from the edge of the frame, presumably to do a little Oc-sucking.

Believe it or not, we don't actually get to see any hot brother-sister action, instead segueing right to the moments after, amid the tangled, soggy sheets and self-recriminations. "Brother, tell me something" is Octavia's smooth opening. Oops, I should probably avoid phrases like "smooth opening" for a few paragraphs. Octavian lets out a disappointed "Ah." She asks what that means, and he explains, "Now comes the price." Whoa, fucking your sister is one thing, but calling her a whore immediately afterward is just rude. He says that she knows incest is wrong, hence all the "idiots and monsters among the children of incest." Octavia is starting to get upset, although her brother, missing the point, coldly says, "It's unlikely I've seeded you. Not with the moon in transit." Getting back to the subject at hand, he knows Octavia wouldn't misbehave so out of pure lust, so she must have some other agenda: "I suspect you'll renew your strange interest in Caesar's health." Now the tears are coming for real, as Octavia whimpers, "What have I done?" Octavian agrees that that's a really good question. Before spilling, she swears Octavian to secrecy. Unfortunately, she fails to do the same to the slave currently witnessing this entire scene through a crack in the door.

Daytime at the house of Vorenii. Pullo watches as Niobe and J. No drape Vorenus is his new magistrate's toga. I'm glad this show has eschewed the traditional white-toga look in favor of more colorful duds -- not just because they say it's historically accurate, but because when someone does wear all white, as Vorenus is now, it's quite eye-catching. And you can't tell me that whoever designed the Senate robes didn't have Caesar's final scene in mind. Anyway, Niobe gushes with pride over her husband's new look, while Pullo cracks, "You look like laundry." Any fears that Vorenus might be letting this go right to his head are momentarily quelled by the difficulty he has in stifling an appreciative chuckle. Niobe, however, didn't get that scroll, and gives Pullo a disapproving look. She even slaps his hand away when he gets up to touch the cloth, saying, "You'll dirty it." Fine way to treat a guy who was ready to battle to the death for you a few scenes ago. Pullo mopes over to the table for some water as Vorenus frets about his new look, then admires himself in a mirror Niobe holds out for him. He's beginning to look kind of impressed with himself after all. Pullo looks sad because there's no room in that toga for him.

Looks like the slave waited until morning to tell Julii Cooper about her incestuous offspring, but she's definitely gotten the message now. Bet that slave had a long night, though. Julii Cooper storms through the house carrying a whip as Octavian follows her, futilely telling her to calm down. In the courtyard, they catch up to Octavia, who can tell right away that the jig is up. She at first starts to flee, and then cowers as Julii Cooper charges up to bring the whip down on her back. Octavian gets there in time to stop the blow, which almost earns him one of his own. He blocks it, though, saying, "I am your son, not your child. You will not strike me anymore!" Julii Cooper's rebuttal is a sock across the jaw that sends Octavian slumping to the ground. Looks like he was wrong for once. Julii Cooper yells at him, "You fucked your sister, you little pervert! Don't tell me what I will and will not do!" While she's thus occupied, Octavia snatches the whip from her and threatens her with it. "You wouldn't dare," Julii Cooper dares, and for once she's right, as Octavia drops the lash and sits on the nearest bench, distraught. Julii Cooper, much of her fury spent, sits to her and asks how she could do this. Octavia accuses Julii Cooper of having killed Glabius. Rather than asking what that has to do with screwing Octavian, Julii Cooper denies the charge. Octavia tells her mother what she heard from Servilia, and Julii Cooper asks whether Octavia ever saw the witness Servilia claimed to have. Of course, Octavia didn't, which gives her mother an opening: "I swear on the spirits of my ancestors, on the stone of Jupiter, I did not kill your husband!" Well, not personally. Julii Cooper says that Servilia lied to turn Octavia against her mother. Which may be true; the theory that Servilia made up a lie that happened to be correct makes as much sense as her doing a little freelance homicide detecting on the side. Octavia cries regretfully, and Julii Cooper puts a comforting arm around her. "My poor lamb," she says. Hey, what about the other kid, the one who's still on the floor where you knocked him? At least the scene ends before he gets thumped again.

Nighttime again. Pullo comes into the Vorenian courtyard, a torch in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. He sets the torch into a torch-holder thingy, sits down, and starts calling more and more loudly for J. No. Fortunately, she wakes up from her perch on the mezzanine and starts coming down before anyone else does. He invites her to sit and join him for a drink, and her reaction to the taste makes it evident that this is her first direct experience with the stuff. "My mother had hair like yours," he says, apropos of nothing except to continue the incest theme that's been going on for the last fifteen minutes or so. He goes on about his mother the slave for a while as J. No looks at him blankly. He gets up to walk around agitatedly as the subject drifts to his unknown father: "Just another slave, probably. Some timid cunt shoveling shit with a collar around his neck because he didn't have the courage to die like a man! I'd cut my fucking heart out of my chest and eat it before I knelt down to anybody!" And then he hollers the C-word again, just for good measure. The neighbors start waking up and complaining, and he yells right back, "Suck my cock, the lot of you! I'm Titus Pullo, right?" Good, so now they know whose ass to kick in the morning. Pullo's really upset about Vorenus's appointment, isn't he? It looks like he's adopted some of Vorenus's philosophical tenets: (1) Always behave honorably, even if it's to your own disadvantage; (2) Caesar's not so great; and (3) If you have a reason to be happy and a reason to be miserable, always be miserable. J. No is looking at Pullo with greater disillusionment by the moment. He tells her she's "a good girl," although she doesn't smile much. She asks if he wants her to smile, and he says he wants to her to be happy. Odd thing to say to one's slave. But she obliges with a rather sickly grin. Pullo is just drunk enough to be totally charmed by it, and makes her drink some more wine. That done, he bids her to stand in front of him and take off her dress. Dutifully, she obeys. Pullo gazes in wonder as if he's never seen a naked woman before. Of course, we can't really see this one because of the framing and the dim light. As you'll recall, he claimed a few episodes ago never to have touched her. That's over as of now, though. Pullo starts mauling her, while she stands there looking bored. Try some more wine, maybe.

By M. Giant

Caesar is seated formally at Vorenus's table, any number of soldiers arrayed behind him in the kitchen. Niobe is now probably extra-glad she had J. No clean the place up. And Vorenus is probably glad that Niobe remodeled so that Caesar's head could fit in there. Caesar compliments Niobe's beauty, which is apparently her cue to dart around the table and throw herself at the Consul's feet. Employing his man-of-the-people schtick, Caesar graciously bids her to rise, and accepts Vorenus's offer of water with equal graciousness, inviting Vorenus to sit with him at the table. He gets right down to business: he wants Vorenus to run for magistrate of Lower Aventine on Caesar's ticket. Niobe, pouring the water, barely contains her squee before returning to her husband's side. Vorenus, mortified to be refusing Caesar, says he has to decline: "Sir, with respect, your politics are not mine." Caesar compliments Niobe on the water, and then assures Vorenus that he is no tyrant, and wants to restore the Republic: "I will not rest until Rome is as it was in the golden age." He doesn't explain why he broke it in the first place, or why tens of thousands had to die just so he could be in charge, and for some reason Vorenus doesn't ask. Caesar concludes his pitch, "I cannot succeed alone. Will you join me?" Vorenus looks at Niobe. "Well, when you put it that way," he seems to be thinking.

By M. Giant

Daytime again. We're in the part of Rome where they carve the marble, I guess. All sorts of columns and statues are in various stages of progress along the street, with extras plying their hammers and chisels carefully so as not to scrape of any polystyrene where the camera can see. Timon's staked out amid the scaffolding, and a compatriot of his whom we've never seen before asks him, "What's the hat for?" Timon, sporting a large leather yarmulke, mildly chastises the other man for not knowing it's Yom Kippur. "What are you, my Rabbi now?" the other guy says. And now we see what they're waiting for, which is Servilia's litter. And it's on. Her litter bearers try to clear the way, but they're set upon and quickly murdered by Timon's men. Servilia herself is tipped out onto the street as the litter falls to the ground. Once the last of her slaves is killed, all of the muggers are free to gang up on her and hold her by her bare arms. She resists, screaming and praying, as Timon watches with the faint beginnings of horror. A black-hooded figure comes up from behind and starts slashing off great hanks off Servilia's voluminous red hair, throwing them over her shoulder so that Servilia can see them landing on the street in front of her. Then the other two men rip her dress, stripping her to the waist and holding her up to public view long enough to make sure her humiliation is complete. Timon looks on in horror and guilt as his men run away to leave her lying in the street. Sure, now he feels bad. And he doesn't even know how adept she is at finding out when he's been up to no good.

Rome TV Show - Here Comes The Judge - Rome Photos &amp; Videos, Rome Reviews &amp; Rome Recaps | TWoP

Rome TV Show - Here Comes The Judge - Rome Photos & Videos, Rome Reviews & Rome Recaps | TWoP