Duro not only fails to poison Julii Cooper, he also confesses under torture that he's working for Servilia. Julii Cooper makes Timon kill Duro anyway, which puts her henchman in quite the mood. Someone's growing a conscience. Pullo arrives in Gaul post-battle to learn that Mark Antony has gotten a right spanking from the actor now playing Octavian, who offers Pullo aid in finding Vorenus. Octavian also sends his friend Agrippa with a message for his sister. Said message doesn't include Agrippa's confession of love for Octavia, but Agrippa delivers it anyway. As well as word to Cicero that Octavian is returning to Rome with his army. Cicero's all, "Here we go again." And he doesn't even know that Brutus and Cassius have succeeded in raising their own army in the East. Julii Cooper has her men capture Servilia, planning to have Timon torture her until she snaps, but Timon snaps first; he releases Servilia and tenders his own resignation, not at all tenderly. Pullo finds Vorenus, and then the two of them find the hellish slave camp where the kids are being held. Vorenus locates his younger daughter, embraces Little Lucius, and liberates his elder daughter from a non-manual-labor form of slavery, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. And the family's all back together, except the dead one.
It must be quite a long walk from the stove to Julii Cooper's dining room, because the kitchen maid has apparently been carrying that tureen of poisoned stew since the end of last week's episode. She secretively dips a couple of fingers in and samples the stuff. Ew, it's got to be freezing cold by now. As she reaches the dining room, Julii Cooper is complaining to her lady-in-waiting, Merula, that circumstances have conspired to deprive her of musicians while she eats her dinner this evening. "Althea sings well," Merula suggests, as Althea delivers the stew to the table. Julii Cooper prevails upon the poor, nervous girl to sing "Crown of Sappho" for her, and sits up expectantly, turning a simple dinner service into an audition. Althea's terribly nervous and begins weakly. For all her other faults, Julii Cooper's no Simon; she patiently gives Althea time to recover. Merula and Castor are standing on either side of Julii Cooper. I wonder which of the three of them will be Paula? Althea eventually finds her voice, and sings a few lines beautifully. After a moment, though, it's not just music coming out of her mouth, but blood as well. Talk about singing your heart out. Instead of helping her or asking what's wrong, they let the poor girl keep singing until she collapses to the floor. They have to send her to Hollywood after that. The senior slaves rush to her, and realize that there must have been poison in the stew. Castor glances up toward the kitchen, where Duro is peeking around the doorway. Smart, that. At least the kid has the brains to know that he's busted: he makes a break for it, Castor giving chase. He's probably not the best guy for this pursuit; Duro will only be that much more motivated not to get caught from behind.
Pullo rides north. Scene.
Octavia's receiving another visit from Jocasta, who's boasting about some "beastly fun" sex she had with one of her pa-PAH's litter bearers. "Penis like a horse," she reviews, and they cackle naughtily. But the mood is shattered by a loud scream of agony echoing through the house. Oh, Jocasta's not that bad.
Oops, my mistake. The source of the screaming would be Duro, who's already been caught, tied spread-eagled between a couple of support columns in the stable, and whipped to within an inch of his Passion Of The Christ. Timon gets in a couple of bare-knuckled punches to Duro's face, and then applies a hot branding iron to the kid's side. This is only the first of three torture scenes I'm going to have to recap this week, so pardon me if I pace myself in my outrage. Octavia and Jocasta enter, the former irritated with her mom, and the latter reacting like she's never seen anyone being tortured before. "What's her name again?" Julii Cooper asks her daughter. Jocasta manages to whine her name through her fingers. "She's a bad influence," Julii Cooper mutters, and turns her attention back the young man she's having tortured. She tells Octavia that one of the servants tried to poison her. Instead of acting all worried and righteously shocked, Octavia makes me grin by snitting at her mother, "What are you doing to the servants that they want to murder you?" Julii Cooper says she knows Servilia's behind it. As for why Duro's being beaten, she explains, "It isn't a legal confession unless there's torture." That's the future of law enforcement, right there. Octavia says that Julii Cooper will have to take Servilia to court, but her mom plans just to kill her enemy instead: "I can always claim it was self-defense. I'm thinking ahead, you see?" Well, her version of it. "This is wrong in so many ways I don't know where to start," Octavia recaps for me. And then Jocasta vomits, and the girls leave. "Is this going to take all night?" Julii Cooper asks Timon, who says that Duro's blacked out again. Come on, kid, this episode isn't that boring. Timon's assistant throws a bucket of water in Duro's face. Timon's about to get to work on him with this nasty wire claw-looking thing, but Julii Cooper's decided that it's her moment to play angel of mercy. She goes in close to Duro, acting all gentle and promising to spare his life if he gives up his employer. He manages to croak out Servilia's name. Julii Cooper turns triumphantly to Timon, saying, "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" She rewards Timon with a drink and tells him, "After you've killed him, dispose of the body discreetly." Timon's throat somehow goes dry in mid-swallow. And here he thought he was only torturing, not murdering.
Julii Cooper arrives back in her bedchamber, Castor trotting piteously in her wake. He falls to his hands and knees behind her and takes full blame for hiring Duro. His timing is impeccable; Julii Cooper's gotten her sadism out for the evening. Although she says she would have him Castor-ated "if eunuchs weren't so unfashionable," she decides to let it go. It probably helps that she got to torture someone and secured an excuse to kill Servilia all at the same time. Best evening she's had in months, I'd wager. Castor gratefully kisses her feet until she shoos him away, telling him, "time you want a boy, buy one at the market. Any fool knows not to pick one up from the streets." She dismisses his relieved ass, but tells him to bring her back some bread and cheese. "I'm absolutely starving," she says, lying back on the bed and rubbing her tummy. Okay, I know she skipped dinner, but now they're just purposely messing with us on the pregnant-or-not thing.
Timon leads his assistant -- who's carrying what's left of Duro -- through the darkened, narrow alleys of the city. Doesn't look like the best neighborhood, either. The kid's begging for his life, saying that Servilia will pay Timon for sparing him. Timon doesn't think so: "What good are you to her now?" Duro says that Servilia loves him. Pretty week payoff for last week's kiss scene, and Timon agrees with me: "I expect she'll get over it. Here we are." He douses his torch and draws his knife as Duro starts trying to offer money of his own. He tries to make a break for it, but the sidekick grabs him and stops him. "Please, I'm only sixteen," Duro begs as Timon unceremoniously comes at him with the knife. Timon gets in close and does that repeated hard-gut-thrust thing that always makes killing look like fucking on this show, and the close-up of Duro's arm draped limply over Timon's shoulder doesn't help. Timon lets the kid fall, dropping his knife on the pavement. The sidekick uncovers and opens a sewer grate, and the two of them push the cooling corpse through it and down to a watery landing. Timon closes the grate with a guilty expression, like he just killed someone's puppy. Which he sort of did, I suppose. His sidekick asks if they're done for the evening, and Timon cuts him loose for the night. I suppose he can text him if something else comes up. The sidekick attempts a friendly smile, but Timon's not in a smiling mood; he's left standing there alone, still gazing unhappily at the closed grate. Timon retrieves his bloody knife, sloppily wipes the blade on the cuff of his tunic, and sheathes it. He rubs his forehead, leaving a streak of gore. Maybe on the way home he could stop at a butcher's stall to complete the look.
Okay, he doesn't, but he might as well have. When Timon gets home in the morning, Duro's blood is still soaking the entire front of his tunic. This wouldn't be such an issue if he didn't present himself this way at the breakfast table where his family and his brother Levi are trying to eat. He stands before them with a "You all got a problem?" expression on his face. There's consternation at the breakfast table as everyone asks what happened. Timon says that it was "business." "Can you not at least wash off your 'business' before returning home?" Levi carps. My wife's always saying that to me too. Timon grumps that he's not ashamed, and when Levi tries to send the kids outside, Timon bitches at Levi not to tell his kids what to do, and then sends them out himself. Now that it's just the adults (well, and Timon), Levi's about to start in on a lecture. Timon starts talking to his wife about Levi's "righteous life back in Judea," which apparently was pretty unrighteous. Mrs. Timon angrily wonders if Timon's going to pick this moment to start getting all truthy all of a sudden, but when he stops talking, she storms out. Levi's not done yet, asking if Timon's getting paid enough by "that Roman witch" for what he does, mocking, "Tell me, where do you hide such fantastic wealth?" Well, if this morning is any indication, I'd suspect that a lot of it goes into dry cleaning. Timon bitches back that Julii Cooper's money bought him "this fucking house, this fucking table, and that fucking dress my wife wears." He claims to be "proud as any free Roman," which is Levi's opening to tell Timon that he's not Roman, but Jewish. Apparently you can't be both. "You may forget that, but they never will," Levi adds. It certainly gets commented on enough by the other characters on this show, not least of all by Levi. He keeps pushing, and when he grabs one of the few remaining clean parts of Timon's tunic, he pushes too far. Timon's up from the table, his knife at his brother's throat, daring him to strike and snarling, "I'm not your little brother anymore." Instead of answering, Levi turns his head, and Timon sees that his little son is standing there watching Timon threaten his uncle. Timon lowers the knife from his brother's bloody throat, says his son's name a couple of times, and then looks even more bummed than before. Classic shame spiral. I'm not sure I buy this "Timon discovers his conscience" arc, even if it was foreshadowed way back in Season 1, but I have to say that Lee Boardman's acting really impresses me this whole episode.
Enough on the domestic front for now; we've got the Town Crier to give us the big picture. He announces that the armies under two Roman generals named Hirtius and Pansa, along with those of Caesar Octavian, are in Gaul and about to engage "the traitor Mark Antony...long live the Republic!" Dude's a one-man Fox News. Hey, does this mean we're going to finally see an actual battle?
...No. Over a subtitle reading "Mutina, Cisalpine Gaul" (whatever a Cisalpine is), Pullo leads his horse to the top of a hill and comes upon a grisly sight. We missed the battle once again, but at least they've spared no expense in showing us the aftermath: there's nothing but smoke and dead horses and men as far as the eye can see. Some soldiers and scavengers are moving among the dead, doing whatever it is they do at times like this. Looting, I assume. Pullo gazes out at the scene, his expression deeply pained. "I can't believe how cheap my show is sometimes," he thinks. He wades through the carnage, moved by the sight. What's he looking for? "Vorenus," he sadly reminds us. He comes upon a red-haired body lying face down in a prefect's uniform, and is visibly relieved at not recognizing the corpse when he rolls it over.
Suddenly, a rather effete voice from above Pullo says his name and cracks, "Don't tell me you've taken up scavenging." Pullo looks up into the sun to see a Golden Eagle standard and a helmeted head silhouetted in the glare, its owner towering above Pullo on horseback. "Do you not know me, Pullo?" the man asks, and removes his helmet. "Is that you, Young Master?" Pullo asks in amazement. I, too, am amazed, because this young man looks absolutely nothing like the Octavian. He hasn't just aged; he's fucking regenerated. This kid has straight brown hair, a square jaw, and a mouth that doesn't look like it was poked into the flesh of his face with the end of a broom handle. His voice is about right, though. In any case, Octavian 2.0 dismounts Caesar-style (that is to say, stepping on the back of a soldier waiting on hands and knees) and approaches the man he calls an old friend. "Octavian," says Pullo. He never called him that before, but now he has to just in case we're still shaking our heads and rubbing our eyes and going "Aggle aggle aggle." "They call me Caesar now, Pullo," the younger man corrects, quietly but firmly. "Always knew you had it in you," says Pullo, and asks how Octavian managed to win the battle that just went down. Octavian deflects credit to the other two generals, and to his sidekick Agrippa, who's hanging a few yards back with the rest of Octavian's mounted men. Accepting Pullo's congratulations for his victory, Octavian asks what his old tutor is doing there, since he doesn't look like he was in the fight. Pullo says that he was looking for Vorenus to give him the news of his family, but now he's afraid Vorenus got killed his own self. Surprisingly, Octavian actually seems to care. He says that he'll have his tribunes check among the wounded. Failing that, Octavian suggests that Pullo search the Cisalpine hills: "Antony and his men have skulked off there." He calls a courier forward, and the man scampers up with a case, from which he presents a closed scroll and a seal stamp. Octavian sticks a dollop of mud on the scroll and stamps his seal into it; he then gives the scroll to Pullo, telling him to show it to anyone who challenges him. Octavian offers Pullo food and a fresh horse, wiping his muddy hands on the courier's red cloak. At least he's still inconsiderate of the lower classes. Pullo thanks him, saluting, and Octavian and his men are on their way. Nothing like a chance meeting with a historical figure to move the plot along.
Octavian and Agrippa return to their camp and the general's tent. Apparently, they're traveling with some poet named Maecenas, whose entire purpose appears to be lounging around in the tent, making sarcastic comments, and getting on my nerves. And those of Agrippa as well, who wonders if Maecenas couldn't be of more use. "Victory is not victory until it has a song," Maecenas declares. I can already tell this kid's a waste of armor. Octavian asks after Hirtius and Pansa, and is told that they died of their wounds. Agrippa feels bad for their compatriots having died in their hour of glory, but as Maecenas points out, "The victory is now ours alone." Considering what a waste of armor this kid looks like, I'm thinking "ours" is being used pretty generously. "You really taught that old bully a lesson, eh?" he sucks up. Octavian stiffly insists that it was for the good of the Republic. "Of course," Maecenas smirks. I hate him already. Sitting at his writing desk, Octavian tasks Agrippa with delivering some letters to Rome. The first is to his sister. "Octavia?" Agrippa gasps, causing Octavian to snark, "I only have the one sister, Agrippa." He tells Agrippa to make sure he hands the letter directly to Octavia: "My mother has a habit of stealing mail." Totally not setting his friend up with his sister at all, no way. The letter is destined for Cicero. "Why send a general to do a courier's work?" Maecenas pipes up. Agrippa quickly says that he doesn't mind, although he doesn't mention that he's looking forward to drooling on Octavia's floor some more. In answer to Maecenas's question, Octavian says that he's asking Cicero for a triumph: "He'll know I'm serious if Agrippa is there looking grim and soldierly." Are we aware of any occasions where Octavian has been anything but serious? About anything? At this point, trumpets sound loudly outside, giving Maecenas a start. Agrippa says that Octavian needs to give his troops a speech, and Octavian asks which one. "The one about money," Maecenas suggests.
Octavian exits his tent to address his assembled men, all sixty or so, filmed a few at a time so that it looks like they fill the whole camp. They stand there silently, waiting. Octavian gives a rather anemic speech, complete with stiff, awkward hand gestures. Whatever enabled this guy to raise and lead an army, I'm sure it wasn't charisma. Even the soldiers listen dutifully and politely rather than raptly. "We have saved the Republic from those who threatened her," says Octavian. "Rome is now in our debt. And we are owed a great deal of money. So while Antony drags the remnants of his men to the frozen north, I thought we might head south to Rome. What do you say? Is it time to tell the Senate to pay up?" Not surprisingly, the soldiers think it is. Octavian seems relieved that his men are actually human beings and not just cardboard cutouts.
A much more ragged assembly is making its way up the road into the hills. Ah, so this is what a Cisalpine looks like. I've always wondered. Pullo rides along the loosely formed column of refugee soldiers, shouting Vorenus's name. Finally, the man himself turns his bloody face to his old friend and snarls, "What are you doing here?" Pullo wastes no time, blurting, "Your children are alive." Vorenus just looks at him. Ever see somebody scowl in shock? I have now.
Looks like Antony's army has picked a spot to bivouac, if I understand that word correctly. Antony is multitasking, getting a slash in his right shoulder stitched up while receiving a casualty report from one of his tribunes. There's really no good news here. The bottom line is that Antony's had eight thousand men killed. Standing to Antony, Posca reels in shock. "Oh, do cheer up," Antony tells him. "You're still alive, aren't you?" Posca hopes so: "If this is the afterlife, it is extremely disappointing." Posca hits his accent extra hard on that line to make it funny, and it almost works. Antony gives orders to redistribute the surviving men among the remaining cohorts, saying that he wants to head north and establish a base camp in the mountains before the snow flies: "And Tribune, don't look so damn grim, eh? Set an example." The Tribune apologizes, cracks a sickly grin, and heads off to carry out Antony's orders. Antony bitches at his medic: "Are you stitching me up or making a dress? Hurry up, man!" I imagine there are quite a few posters who would buy a dress made of Mark Antony, no questions asked. Posca questions the wisdom of a base camp in the mountains for the winter, and wonders if they shouldn't think about offering terms while they still have some army left. Antony won't hear this "fucking slave talk," but even he doesn't know what his move's going to be after reaching the mountains. "I'll think of something," he bluffs, and then yells at his medic some more. Don't tell me he's having that done without Novocaine!
This is when Vorenus arrives to request leave, Pullo at his side. "Now that is a real soldier for you," Antony says appreciatively. "Most men just slip away into the night, but this one? He asks permission before he deserts me." He asks Vorenus what's up, and Vorenus quickly says that his children are alive and in slavery. "Good news, bad news, eh?" Antony remarks, and self-pities that losing one more good man today isn't going to make any difference. Vorenus and Pullo are about to gallop off, but Antony stands up to give them a message first: "Be sure to tell everyone you meet that Mark Antony is not defeated. He will return and all those who defied him will pay!" And he'll talk about himself in the third person some more. "That fucking little brat Octavian shall be first!" he yells. "Will do, chief!" Pullo chirps agreeably, wisely refraining from waving around that scroll he's got with Octavian's seal on it. With that, he and Vorenus are on their way.
Yet another subtitle tells us that we're in "Province of Asia (Western Turkey)" as the camera pans over rows and rows of tents in a huge army camp. Inside one of the tents, we're getting a quick update on how things are going with Brutus and Cassius. Long story short: they've managed to raise nine legions with 25,000 infantry and 10,000 cavalry. I have absolutely no idea how. "Almost a match for Antony," Cassius assesses. Of course, they'll have to catch Antony first. Brutus, now shorn and shaved, is getting fitted for a new set of armor. Cassius tells him that he looks magnificent. He even suggests that Brutus have his portrait done. "No time for such vanity," Brutus scoffs, flattered nonetheless. Cassius remarks, "It would please your mother," lest we forget whom he's been working for all this time. Brutus chuckles that it would indeed. He should go for it. Servilia's going to need some cheering up pretty soon.
Servilia is currently in the midst of some very intense prayer session, attended by two shaven-headed slave girls. They lead her to kneel before an altar and idol and leave her there praying. She's so into her devotions that she's unaware that Timon and another very rough-looking man have crept in behind her. She's clueless until they throw the black bag over her head. Prayer time's over.
Cut to Servilia on her knees again, but now her hands are tied behind her back and she's in some dreary dungeon beneath the house of the Julii. Julii Cooper comes downstairs and sits down in front of the hooded figure, saying, "You know why you're here, don't you?" Servilia just says, "Atia," and no more. "Your boy confessed everything," Julii Cooper tells her, causing Timon to roll his eyes discreetly. She asks Servilia if she's afraid to speak, and then whips the bag off her head. Servilia's eyes pop open. She looks pissed. Julii Cooper comments that it wasn't always this way. "'A slow and painful death.' That's what you promised me." Servilia says that's what Julii Cooper deserves: "I think you're a sad, lonely little creature. I think at this moment you're more afraid than I am." I'd be even more impressed with Servilia's gumption if this whole feud hadn't started over Julii Cooper making Servilia's boyfriend break up with her. Julii Cooper insists that she's never been happier. Servilia tells Julii Cooper to kill her, then. Julii Cooper says that she will, as soon as Servilia kisses her feet and begs her to. "Do as you like," Servilia challenges, and Julii Cooper calls Timon over. Servilia makes her big speech to Julii Cooper: "You think it's me you degrade now, but it's not. It's you. As long as you live, you will feel degraded and defiled by this. You." She's talking to Julii Cooper, but it's Timon who's hearing it, looking miserable and lost as he looms behind her. I'm completely blown away that this character who started out as a secondary thug is suddenly stealing a scene from Servilia, of all people. But that's not enough to stop him from obeying when Julii Cooper tells him to get on with it. He beckons a man, who drops his codpiece as Servilia is forced to her hands and knees.
And then there's a "tasteful" little montage of the house trying to go about its business, attempting to ignore the female screams emanating from below and totally bringing everyone down. The slaves look at each other, thinking, "There was a lot less screaming going on when I interviewed for this gig."
And it's been a while, because when we return, Servilia's hands are trussed to a rope hanging from the ceiling. Timon's scourging her and has stripped to his leather harness and jog bra. Seriously, that's what it looks like. All I know is that it's spectacularly unflattering, especially with him all sweaty and out of breath. Julii Cooper asks Servilia if she's had enough. Her captive raises her face, and it's a mask of blood. A curved slash has been carved across the top of her forehead, and she looks like Carrie at the prom. It's horrifying to behold, although I suspect that it looks worse than it is. ["I seem to recall that that's a big move in pro wrestling, because a scalp cut bleeds a ton and looks dramatic, but doesn't actually hurt that much." -- Wing Chun] After everything she's endured, Servilia's got enough resistance left in her to spit in Julii Cooper's face. Pissed, Julii Cooper walks back over to Timon and tells him to get back to work. "What do you want me to do?" Timon demands angrily. Totally missing his tone, Julii Cooper tells him to cut off Servilia's face. I'm no lawyer, but it seems to me like that might undercut her planned "self-defense" claim. "Your honor, I had no choice! She came at me with some poison, so naturally I was forced to have her kidnapped, ass-raped, flogged, half-scalped, and un-faced. Anybody would have done the same." Upon receiving his offensive order, Timon gets right up in Julii Cooper's personal space, but she's unintimidated, telling him to do it. Timon picks up his wicked, curved knife and walks back over in front of Servilia. But instead of her face, his knife cuts the rope holding her in a vertical position. She drops like a felled sapling, and he yells at her to get up. She can't, so he picks her up and drags her toward the exit. When Julii Cooper tries to intervene, Timon grabs his boss by the throat and roars, "I am not an animal! I am not a fucking animal!" No, animals aren't so imaginative about hurting each other, and spit less when they talk. Julii Cooper sinks to the ground, still holding her throat even when Timon releases her.
Meanwhile, Servilia has made it to the street. She's a ragged, bloody, desperate mess who attracts the attention but not the assistance of the passing citizenry. She staggers off. And my thanks to the PA who remembered to daub a giant bloody splotch on the back of her skirt. It's the little details that really bring this show to life, you know. Timon watches Servilia go, and then storms off in another direction, ideally to prevent the ancestors of Stanley Milgram from ever meeting.
Inside the house, Julii Cooper is left sitting on the floor of her own dungeon, trying to get her breath back. Eventually, she recovers and struggles to a standing position. Her move won't be pretty.
Vorenus and Pullo are riding south at full gallop, Vorenus well in the lead. Vorenus reaches a signpost and pauses to get his bearings. Pullo catches up and casually pants, "So, brother..." But that's as far as he gets before Vorenus spurs his horse on again. Pullo wearily follows.
Later, Vorenus has apparently decided to give the horses a rest, as he and Pullo lead them on foot along a wagon-rut road. Pullo remarks that it'll be dark soon, and that it's probably a good time to set up camp. Vorenus tells Pullo to go ahead, but that he's not stopping. Pullo makes some gently mocking comment about Vorenus not having forgotten how to talk after all, but Vorenus says that there's nothing to say. "Still angry with me then?" Pullo asks. "No," Vorenus says stiffly. Throughout this whole scene, Vorenus is wound tighter than a lute string, walking like there's an umbrella up his ass and it's talking his full concentration to prevent it from spontaneously opening. Pullo says that, in any case, he wants to tell Vorenus that nothing ever happened between him and Niobe, and that he only said what he said to make Vorenus angry: "That's the truth, and you know that." "I know," Vorenus nods. Pullo says that Niobe wasn't like that, and that Evander took advantage: "If it's any consolation, I gave him a right session before I killed him. Screamed like a stuck pig." "Good. Thank you," Vorenus bites out as they continue strolling into the sunset. What, no hug?
Later, it looks like Vorenus has decided to let them camp for the night after all. He's the first to bed, in fact, "bed" in this case being "a big red cape and a rock." As Pullo sits up and watches the fire, he asks if Vorenus has ever seen a slave camp. Vorenus hasn't. Pullo warns him that the Vorenii will be "different" now: you can't understand unless you've been there, he says, darkly marvelling, "The things I saw...." Vorenus sits up, like this is about to get interesting, but Pullo decides to return the subject at hand. "Best be gentle, eh?" he advises, and Vorenus settles back down as he promises to do so. "And the boy?" Pullo asks carefully. "You're not thinking of killing him, are you?" "Honor demands that he die," Vorenus says impassively. Pullo agrees, but says that the girls won't like it much. Vorenus isn't sleeping now. "You talk too much," he grumps. "We all have our faults," Pullo admits.
Servilia has made it home, but she's a black-clad bundle of PTSD, cowering from a slave who wakes her, and crying inconsolably as the slave tries to comfort her. You'll forgive me if I don't insert a joke into this scene. I was going to use the one about the bear and the rabbit, but it seemed kind of jarring.
Cut to Octavia, incredulously asking, "Octavian won?" Agrippa, standing nervously before her, confirms that Antony has taken the remains of his army into the mountains. He hands her the letter he's carrying, assuring her that Octavian's unharmed and that Antony's alive, although not much more is known about the latter. Agrippa adds that Octavian is returning to Rome with his army within the month. Suspicious, Octavia asks why the army's coming. "Politics," Agrippa explains, but Octavia's still pissed. She starts to stomp off, but Agrippa calls after her that Octavian promises always to protect her no matter what happens: "But you must accept his protection and his advice." Octavia's offended at being treated like one of her brother's soldiers, and makes Agrippa follow her some more as he explains that the message is for their mother as well, understating, "Better it come from you." Octavia keeps trying to end the scene, but Agrippa won't let it go. He calls after her, getting louder as he tries to smooth things over. "Your brother means you only the best. If it were otherwise, I'd not deliver the message. I'd sooner die than cause you pain!" Well, that stops Octavia in her tracks. And maybe "smooth" wasn't the best word to use here. Octavia tries to play it off, saying, "I hope you live a long life, then." Agrippa figures he's committed now, and starts clumsily attempting to pitch woo. But Octavia puts a stop to that with a quickness, changing the subject to whether Octavian has been eating properly. Agrippa takes the hint and backs off, assuring Octavia that he is. He apologizes for his forwardness: "I very expressly did not mean to do that. I blurted it out anyhow." I'll say. Octavia blows it off, saying, "Any friend of my brother is my brother also," and saying that they'll be friends when she knows him better. Damn, he's not only a "friend" but a "brother"? I'd say he's never going to get under Octavia's dress, but then "brother" isn't as much of a non-fuckable demographic for her as it is for some people.
Julii Cooper comes in at this point, wondering what Agrippa is doing there. She thinks he's there to deliver bad news about her son, but when she starts breathing through her hands, Octavia quickly tells her that Octavian won. Julii Cooper takes the scroll from Octavia and reads the whole thing. Slowly. To herself. The episode must have been running short this week.
Cut to the Senate chamber, which is nearly empty except for Agrippa, Cicero (back in his Senator's robes), and a few janitors. And I'm glad to say that the only blood in the room is inside the humans where it belongs. Cicero is thrilled to receive the news of Octavian's victory. But as he continues reading the scroll in his hand. Cicero's face falls (although not like Servilia's would have a few scenes ago). "He's bringing his army to Rome?" Cicero demands. "Why? He has no enemies in Rome. Why bring his army?" As if Cicero doesn't know. That's just what you do, dudeus. What good is an army if you don't use it? Agrippa pleads ignorance of his friend's motives. He says that "Caesar" will explain himself when he arrives in Rome. "Another Caesar," Cicero marvels mordantly. "Just what we need...Gods, I'm so tired of young men and their ambitions." Agrippa assures Cicero that Octavian is only looking out for the Republic. Cicero's heard that one before. Every goddamn week, in fact. "It is all vanity," he declares as he gets up to leave. Poor Cicero. Disenchantment must be tough for someone who's already supposed to be so jaded and cynical.
Vorenus and Pullo have arrived at the slave camp, which looks to be a huge, open-pit quarry. Slaves are mining dirt n the sweltering heat, loomed over (and frequently whipped) by mounted overseers. "This is the place," Pullo tells Vorenus, and they ride on in. As they approach one overseer in mid-whipping, Pullo asks Vorenus to let him do the talking, and greets the overseer with a hearty "Salve, friend!" He asks directions to the procurator's office, making up a vague excuse about runaway slaves. The overseer says that the camp's closed to visitors, but that a couple of slave catchers like themselves might be able to spread a little bounty in exchange for admittance. Vorenus is about to rip the man's head off, but Pullo smoothly hands over a few coins and gets his directions. The two leads ride on, Vorenus fixing the man with a look of poisonous hatred as he rides by. "Oh, leave off!" the overseer bellows at a colleague. "He's bloody dead! Uncouple him!"
As Vorenus and Pullo ride through the camp, Vorenus spits on the ground in contempt. "Your spit dries fast here, brother," Pullo advises. "Best to save it." They ride past a couple of crucified corpses. I wait for Vorenus to do a horrified double-take, but none of the blackening carcasses appear to be of Vorenian descent. Small favors.
Pullo and Vorenus arrive in the procurator's tent, and Pullo tells the gravel-voiced, smirking gnome behind the desk that they're there to retrieve some runaways who got sold here. "Two girls," Vorenus says. "And a boy," Pullo adds pointedly. He has to admit that they don't have any papers, and the procurator grins knowingly, guessing, "Two soldiers out for some young cunny, eh?" Vorenus is mortally offended, which means that the procurator's about to be mortally thumped, but Pullo manages to keep his friend on his leash for now. And then he spins a real yarn, claiming that the slaves in question are "the private property of Gaius Caesar Octavian himself." He says something suggestive about feeding them biscuits in bed, "especially the boy." I can't imagine that Octavian will be too thrilled to hear about this tale if it gets back to him. The procurator's doubtful, even when Pullo produces his scroll with Octavian's seal on it. "What is it, an otter?" the procurator wonders. Heh. "It's a fucking sphinx! Mark of Caesar!" Pullo snaps. He says that the sealant is actually mud from Mutina, and that they came straight from the battlefield, which should demonstrate the urgency of the situation. The procurator still isn't convinced. Pullo plays his ace: "Are you calling me a liar?" The procurator gives in.
Pullo, Vorenus, and the procurator enter a kitchen shack, where they quickly find an old woman making stew. Sitting to the old woman, slowly peeling a turnip? Is Vorena the Younger. Vorenus goes to her, calling her "daughter," and telling her that he's her father. She doesn't seem to have much of a reaction, even when he hugs her fiercely and kisses her head. Aw. So much for being gentle, though. Vorenus looks up, and Little Lucius is there. Upon seeing his mother's husband, he drops a sack of grain that was too big for him to carry in the first place and stares at his mother's husband with frozen terror. Nobody says a word for a very long time. Vorenus goes to him, and the kid tries to make a break for it, but Vorenus grabs him by the shoulder. The silence stretches out. Vorenus holds him in place, trying to keep his glower steady, but after a couple of helpless Wookiee-like head-cocks, Vorenus finally sweeps the boy up into an emotional embrace. Again aw. Little Lucius looks at Vorenus in confusion, relief and joy. Or maybe the five-year-old actor is just thinking, "Do I have a line here?" After witnessing this protracted and emotional scene, the procurator makes a stunning deductive leap, protesting, "You're not slave-catchers!" It was probably a bad idea for him to remind Vorenus of his existence, such as it is. Still holding Little Lucius, Vorenus turns to the procurator and angrily asks, "Where's my daughter?" The other one, he means. Too bad the kids can't talk yet.
The procurator leads Vorenus and Pullo into the back area, if by "leads" you mean "gets roughly pushed ahead by." This part of the shack consists of a narrow hallway with curtained doors on either side, and it's pretty clear what goes on in this structure. Even before a large man comes out of one doorway. Vorenus looks inside the alcove to find a nearly naked woman washing herself off with a damp cloth. Vorenus hears a noise from the alcove across the hall, and as the procurator shakes his head sadly (instead of running, which is what I'd be doing), Vorenus barges into this other cubicle to find a man removing his tunic. Looking past the man, he sees his elder daughter staring through a crack in the wall, clad in a raggedy dress. Vorenus's shocked reaction is wordless, hers expressionless as she turns to stare back at him. But thank the gods he got here before anything improper happened, right?
The procurator is the first to emerge from the back hall, but he immediately collapses on the floor. As the opening theme song starts up again, Vorenus leads his older daughter out by the hand. Pullo stoops to retrieve a knife from the procurator's neck, and then scoops up Vorena the Younger in one arm. At the door, he catches up with Vorenus, who's now carrying Little Lucius in his free arm, and the five of them leave together. And the Vorenus family is back together again. Except with a new wife, of course. The old woman turns from her stew to nudge the procurator's body with her foot. Who's going to peel the turnips now?