Finally, things start to pick up on this show. Pompey, having been driven all the way to the sea with his allies, accepts Caesar's offer of truce, but refuses to meet with him. Which is all the excuse Caesar needs to go after Pompey anyway. Pullo has been hired as tutor to Octavian (!), and enlists the young noble's help in finding out what's between Niobe and her brother-in-law, Evander. Suffice to say that it doesn't end well for Evander. Some embarrassing and very public graffiti that was commissioned by Julii Cooper prompts Calpurnia to demand that Caesar dump Servilia. And that gets pretty ugly, too. Vorenus's entry into civilian life goes from bad to worse to even worse yet, and he's forced to go crawling back to Mark Antony to accept the offer he refused last week. Naturally, the offer's not quite as generous as it was the first time, and Vorenus looks pretty unhappy to be back in armor. Hey, man, sometimes paying the rent calls for a little treason. Caesar arrives at Pompey's camp on the shore of the Adriatic, only to discover that he's underestimated his enemy's ability to run away. I wouldn't have thought that possible.
I'm a little depressed this week, just because I've realized that it's going to be quite a while before I get to see another episode of my favorite show that features Centurions, characters who worship ancient gods, and a semi-traitor named Gaius. But Battlestar Galactica will be back in January, and I have another seven weeks of this show to cover. I'm just glad that it appears to be getting better.
As with last week's episode, we open in Pompey's tent. Brutus is doing a sustained facepalm, while Cicero, Scipio, and Pompey himself are sitting around looking haggard, tired, and like they're catastrophically constipated. Only what they're trying to push out is something even worse: their acceptance of Caesar's offer of truce. Pompey dictates to a secretary, "My dear friend Gaius...In the interests of peace and equity, I accept --" Here, Cicero twists the knife by correcting "I accept" to "The Senate and people of Rome have authorized me to accept." Pompey agrees, and only gets to the word "truce" before Scipio -- who I keep forgetting is Pompey's son-in-law -- takes his turn to object, on the grounds that "truce" implies that Caesar is something other than a criminal. "A criminal," Cato grumbles to himself, pacing around. Pompey amends "truce" to "cessation of hostilities," and wraps it up. Cicero -- who's doing his best to maintain that hairstyle despite having run out of mousse -- pronounces the response "good enough," but Cato can't get over himself and the humiliation he thinks they're experiencing. "We're worms," he whines. Cicero disagrees: "Worms cannot run away as speedily as we do." Heh. He exposits that Caesar hasn't even left Rome, but that his legions are chasing them all over the country. So I guess it's been a couple of weeks since the end of the last episode. "We are more like sheep than worms," Cicero opines. Scipio complains that they ran out of money to pay their troops, but Cicero brings them back on topic, saying that they have to decide when Pompey is going to offer to meet Caesar. Pompey refuses even to consider it. Cicero claims, "It is only by Jupiter's mercy that [Caesar] has not already put our heads on pikes." Well, that and all the running away. Cato says that Jupiter has no mercy for cowards like themselves. Hey, don't be so hard on yourself, Cato. It takes some courage just to keep wearing that off-the-shoulder toga of yours, knowing I'm going to be making fun of it every week. Cato then recklessly drops the S-word. "This is not surrender!" Pompey shouts. "Pompey Magnus does not surrender!" Everyone waits uncomfortably to hear what surrender is called when Pompey Magnus does it. He says that he's only using the truce to buy time. Everyone looks miserable and defeated as Pompey gets up to leave the tent. Aw, buck up, guys. How bad can it be? Just keep running away indefinitely. And then Pompey throws aside the tent flaps, and the view outside reveals that they're camped on a cliff overlooking the sea. Okay, well, so much for running away indefinitely. Nice view, though.
Caesar's at his own camp, which I, at first, thought meant that he was on the trail after Pompey himself, but we'll soon learn that his camp is set up somewhere right outside the city walls. He's getting shaved as Posca relates the news of the latest guy who's abandoning Pompey and throwing himself on Caesar's mercy, of whom there are apparently many. Caesar orders the guy set up with a bag of money, a nice letter, and an official position. Posca says that all of this mercy is going to leave Caesar broke. Caesar lectures, "Judicious use of mercy is worth ten thousand men. And if my last coin buys me a throne, it's a fair price." "'A throne'?" Posca asks pointedly. Caesar backpedals, "Poetic license. What else?" Posca says that Julii Cooper has invited Caesar to dinner. Caesar wants to decline without giving an excuse, even when Posca points out that this is the second such invitation Caesar has turned down. Caesar says that he doesn't need to account for himself to his niece. "Not a sapient choice, perhaps, but brave, sure," Posca sasses. Caesar pulls rank: "They say that slaves talk of bravery as fish talk of flying." "They say that, do they?" Posca cracks, following Caesar into the tent. "How very witty of them." Caesar needs an aphorism about slaves and wit.
Back to the Forum, where there are a lot more people out in public than there were in the last episode. I guess they're starting to get used to the new regime. The Town Crier is announcing Caesar's offer of truce to Pompey. Which we know happened weeks ago in the timeline of the show, so I don't know why this is just getting announced now. I'm not sure yet how I feel about the Town Crier as a storytelling device. But I suppose having Grant Lee Phillips wandering around with a guitar is out of the question. And a Greek chorus would probably be inappropriate. As a cleaning crew sweeps the cobble stones, an obviously drunk Pullo walks along the street as if it's the deck of a ship in a high wind. Scratch that -- as if it's the deck of a canoe in a waterfall.
Julii Cooper finds her children hanging out together at home. In fact, Octavian appears to be giving his sister a pedicure. "Strange boy," Julii Cooper observes, and tells Octavian what she heard about him from the kitchen staff -- namely, that he and Caesar were "skulking in a cupboard." Except she says "skulking" like you might say "slobbing knobs." Octavian plays it off, but Julii Cooper approvingly says, "You seduced him, you sly little fox." She thinks it's great: "Let's see Servilia compete with a soft young boy like you." Octavian insists that Julii Cooper has the wrong idea, but that only eggs her on: "A good lover is a discreet lover." Octavian -- humiliated at suddenly finding himself in a bad episode of III's Company -- says that he was only helping Caesar to recover from a sudden illness. Julii Cooper won't let it go, saying it's a good idea to play hard-to-get. Yes, with sly stratagems like sending her only son across Gaul with a horse as a gift and inviting Caesar to dinner all the goddamn time. Octavia she asks Julii Cooper to leave Octavian alone. Heedless, Julii Cooper announces that she's invited Caesar and Mark Antony to dinner tonight, and Octavian cuts off what she's about to say, insisting that Caesar has "a terrible affliction," but refusing to say more. Julii Cooper demands to know what Octavian means by that, "oath be damned," but Octavian keeps mum. "Well, that's very disappointing," Julii Cooper says, and leaves the room. Lightweight. Put another plate of goat testicles in front of him and see if that doesn't loosen his tongue a little.
While Julii's walking through her house, a servant comes up to say that Caesar has begged off for dinner. "No matter," Julii Cooper says with an airy wave of her hand, but then she stops and asks, "Why not?" If she's disappointed to hear that Caesar's not coming, she's downright worried to hear that he didn't even bother to supply an excuse.
Vorenus's daughter walks toward their house, carrying an urn in one hand and the baby in the other. The urn must be full of something, or else she'd be able to carry both in one hand and keep one arm free. You think I'm joking, but my son has hitched many a ride up and down the stairs in a laundry basket. On her way up the stairs, Vorena passes an unconscious Pullo. Well, that seems kind of presumptuous of him, if not rude.
"Titus Pullo is sleeping on the stairs again," Vorena announces as she enters the house. "Again"? So this is a habitual thing? Is he paying rent? Vorenus plays it off as he takes the baby, saying that Pullo will be leaving Rome soon anyway. Just like Vorenus's Scottish accent did. He changes the subject to Vorena's little boyfriend, asking when he'll be back from his droving. Vorena tells him November, and Vorenus -- who's being very cute right now with the baby he thinks is his grandson -- says that there should be enough money left for his daughter's dowry after he sells his slaves today, and she and little Lucius can go off with him and start their life. Niobe hears this in the room and quickly comes in to protest. Vorenus, pleasantly enough, says that it has to be done, but Niobe complains that they'll be far away, what with the nomadic lifestyle drovers have. But Vorena is, of course, on her father's side here. Niobe says she knows she has to go: "It's just hard." What with two of her three kids about to leave at once, I would imagine so.
Just then, an unsteady shadow darkens the doorway, as Pullo asks for some water. Niobe goes to get it as Vorenus tells Pullo to sit down, saying he should be in camp. Pullo complains that there's nothing to do there. Vorenus offers bread, but Pullo declines, saying he's not well. "You're drinking too much," diagnoses Lucius Obvius. While Niobe quietly remonstrates with her eldest daughter in the background, Pullo says he just ate some depraved oysters. Man, what kind of behavior would an oyster have to engage in for someone on this show to call it depraved? Long nights full of pearl necklaces and bearded clams, I would suspect. Vorenus asks where Pullo's slave girl is. Pullo smiles happily at the thought of J. No, but then his face falls. "Cac!" he curses, and stands up almost, but not quite, fast enough to whoops all over Vorenus's kitchen table. Fortunately for Vorenus, Niobe, and the viewing public, Pullo recovers and heads out the door.
Somewhat later, Vorenus is following Pullo around through some claustrophobic little warren of bars and brewhouses while the Legionnaire keeps sticking his head into one after another in a desperate search for the one where he inadvertently ditched J. No. I think he should just ask around and find out which one shots were fired at the night before and go to that one, but he insists on doing it the hard way. Vorenus tries to calm Pullo by saying he can "get another one," but Pullo insists that he wants J. No. Except he calls her "Eirene," but it's too late to give her a real name now. Two episodes after you introduce a character is not the time to name her, okay? Vorenus wonders what Pullo will do with J. No when he goes after Pompey, and Pullo says that he might stay in Rome, since his time's nearly done anyway. "You did," Pullo points out. "You're not me," Vorenus says. "You have no talent for peace." Heh heh heh. Pullo, increasingly panicked, refuses to leave J. No behind. "You think with your penis," Vorenus says, but Pullo says he hasn't touched J. No: "I just like to look at her. Makes me calm."
And Pullo gets calm just in time, because he seriously looked like he was about to pitch a thrombo. He finally finds her sitting in some restaurant. "The girl is his," Vorenus tells the African proprietor, who says she can go when Pullo pays what he owes. Pullo, because he's broke, says, "You should be paying me to drink the pond-filth you serve here." Looks like there's going to be trouble, but Vorenus calls off Pullo before he has a chance to do more than disarm the proprietor. Calm down, everyone! Look at J. No or something. Vorenus pulls out a bag of his own money. That works too.
Back out on the street, Pullo promises to pay Vorenus back ASAP. "Do that," Vorenus says, and asks what Pullo will do with J. No now. Pullo stands and looks at her. With his hair growing out, he's starting to look a little bit like Chris Noth. Only calmer.
Back home, Niobe looks at J. No and Pullo, and back at her husband, saying, "I don't want her." Vorenus wonders why she suddenly doesn't want a slave anymore, after asking for one for so long. She asks why they can't have one of Vorenus's slaves from Gaul instead. Vorenus: "My Gauls are unseasoned. Cut your throat as soon as sweep your floor. This one's trained up nice and docile. What is wrong with her?" Niobe says that J. No has strange eyes. By which we'll soon learn she means "eyes that work." Vorenus announces that J. Lo is staying, and he and Pullo leave. J. No comes into the house, hoping that the calming effect she has will start working on Niobe soon.
Later still, Niobe has apparently just finished relating this tale to her nosy neighbor Mrs. Kravus (who also gets a name, but again, it's way too late), having added the capper that Pullo has put J. No in the house to spy on her. She thinks Pullo knows about her and Evander. Mrs. Kravus doubts that Pullo suspects anything, because she figures he'd go straight to Vorenus if he did. Niobe hopes she's right.
In Caesar's tent, Mark Antony gloats over Pompey's acceptance of Caesar's truce offer: "You get your triumph, stand for Consul, and Pompey will withdraw to Spain. He'll suck Posca's cock if asked nicely." Posca looks at him like, "How nicely?" Caesar's surprised that Pompey's accepting the terms, although he thinks that Pompey's sincere. He explains that his enemy is trapped and getting weaker by the day, and that Caesar could crush him at will. But now that Pompey's accepted the truce on Caesar's terms, attacking him would be a PR nightmare. Yeah, this is why you don't make offers that you don't want the other side to accept. Caesar adds that Posca wants to accept the truce. "In return for what?" Mark Antony asks. "Peace is its own reward," Posca says, which Mark Antony pronounces "snivelry. The ram has touched the wall. No mercy." Making that expression the title of the episode doesn't help it to make any more sense, you know. Posca points out that Pompey has the Senate and legal legitimacy on his side. Mark Antony says that those both stop outside the city walls, which Caesar sort of agrees with. But he also says that others will agree with Posca, and thus think Caesar a tyrant for refusing the favorable terms that will no doubt be made public. Taking another look at the scroll, Posca tries, "He refuses to meet us in person?" Caesar says that'll work: "The hoi polloi can understand a reason like that." He fakes a righteous rage, blustering, "He refuses to meet me!" Everyone laughs, because mildly amusing is about as funny as Caesar ever gets. Mark Antony's ready to saddle up right then, but Caesar says they'll leave when the time is right. Mark Antony objects: "The apple is ripe for the plucking!" Mark Antony does like a good metaphor, doesn't he? Almost as much as he likes a bad one. Caesar puts a hand on Mark Antony's shoulder and pleasantly says, "Pompey's not an apple. And I am not a farmer." He leaves the tent, telling Posca to call for his guard.
Vorenus arrives at the slave market and tells the dealer he's come to sell his stock. The dealer says, "Ah, well." Vorenus looks nervous.
And then the dealer looks nervous as he follows Vorenus down a long aisle between outdoor cages, until they arrive at one filled with dead bodies and buzzing flies. Basically, it's Gitmo if all the soldiers went on strike. Vorenus coughs at the stench and gazes upon the horror. Except to Vorenus, it's the horror of a ruined investment instead of the horror of a mass open grave. Only one little boy looks blankly back at him while playing with the hair of his dead mother. Vorenus looks to the dealer for an explanation, and the dealer says, "Black blood flux. Nothing to be done." He explains that he kept the bodies there despite the smell, so Vorenus would know he hadn't cheated him. "No one's to blame," he says. Yeah, shit happens. Lots of shit, if flux is what I think it is. The dealer bright-sides that there's one boy left who will probably fetch enough to pay the feed bill. Especially considering how well-adjusted the kid is sure to grow up. "'Feed bill'?" Vorenus asks angrily. "They didn't starve to death," the dealer points out. Yeah, but the food just went right through them. What a progressive slave broker, to refrain from scraping up the mess on the bottom of the cage and repurposing it for the rest of his stock.
Vorenus angrily leaves the slave market, the boy limping slowly along behind him. "Move!" Vorenus orders, and then gives up and roughly picks up the kid, jamming him under one arm like a bundle of firewood and scowling harder than we've ever seen him do. Which is saying a lot. I think my TV actually got a phosphor burn from it. Aw, poor Vorenus. All his slaves died. I feel so bad for him.
Back at home, the other Vorenii take the news with varying degrees of equanimity. Niobe wonders what they're going to do for money since they have no savings, and the girls are all excited about the new addition to the household. "We'll call him Rubio after my pigeon that died," Vorena announces, even though Vorenus vows that they're selling the kid as soon as he's marketable. Niobe worries, and Vorenus promises that he'll think of something.
Caesar and Servilia are chilling in her bedchamber, playing Yahtzee or something. That is not a euphemism. Servilia's hair is hanging down all loose and casual, and it's really an improvement over her usual look, especially when she laughs at yet another successful roll. Haven't seen much of that from her before now. "This is a rout," Caesar says. Servilia muses, "Shall I be merciful?" Caesar waits pensively for her decision. "I think not," she finally says, and kicks tray, cup and dice off the bed and onto the floor. Caesar smiles at her wacky antics. "How will you pay your debt?" she asks him. "All that I have is already yours," he cop-outs. "What else can I give?" She tells him not to leave her again. "I never left you," he says, and kisses her foot. Oh, good answer. I suppose he just went to Gaul for eight years to have a beer with the guys.
In the bedchamber of Servilia's counterpart Julii Cooper, Mark Antony is bitching at length that his men are getting bored, which is leading to discipline problems. "It all sounds very tedious," Julii Cooper audience-surrogates. Mark Antony blames Caesar for not going south after Pompey and giving the men something to do. He finishes removing his boots and spoons in behind Julii Cooper, lowering one shoulder strap on her nightgown. He says that Caesar pretends he's running some strategy, but everyone "knows that Servilia has unmanned him." Julii Cooper -- who was starting to get into the kisses Mark Antony was planting all over her shoulder -- suffers an abrupt change in expression at that. Not so with Mark Antony. He spoons more aggressively and says, "I, as you can tell, am not unmanned." Probably shouldn't have wrecked her mood then, dudeus, 'cause it's starting to look like you're not getting any tonight.
Caesar and Servilia sleep in what I assume is post-coital entanglement, decently covered by the blankets. Yay, blankets! I am fully in favor of those when Caesar's naked. I really don't need to see Ciaran Hinds's hinder.
At breakfast the morning, Julii Cooper rants about the situation while Octavian tries to read and tells her to calm down. He says that whom Caesar beds is trivial. "How you take after your father, simple as milk," Julii Cooper says, while Octavian makes a "whatever" face. Yeah, I get how Julii Cooper considers herself some master schemer, but totally fails to recognize that she's got the second most astute strategic and political mind living under her roof. Never mind taking advantage of it. I just hope they keep hammering it home every week until it stops being funny. Julii repeats what Mark Antony said about Caesar not chasing Pompey in favor of chasing tail. "It would be very unwise to cause trouble about this," Octavian advises. Julii Cooper says she wouldn't lower herself: "Such sordid couplings have a way of turning out badly anyhow by no one's special doing." As we shall not see, later on tonight. The servant Castor comes and whispers in Julii Cooper's ear, and she relays to Octavian that his tutor has arrived. Tutor? She throws some bit of breakfast debris onto the floor to her chair, and a slave appears almost immediately to kneel at her feet with a broom and dustpan. This is the first Octavian's heard of a tutor. Julii Cooper says she hired someone to teach the boy "the masculine arts. How to fight and copulate and skin animals and so forth." I started to take that class in junior high, but then the shop teacher got arrested. Octavian says that there's plenty of time for him to learn that stuff, and Julii complains about all the time he spends reading: "You may read those old Greek fools until blood runs from your eyes. You'll be none the wiser." Octavian stiffly says that there's much to learn from the Greek philosophers. "Here's a Greek philosopher for you," says Julii, and thwaps the head of the slave kneeling to her. Okay, heh. And I've been to Greece. As Octavian slams his book shut and gets up to leave, Julii Cooper says she hired "that soldier of yours." "Vorenus?" Octavian asks, a little hopefully. "Not the sullen Catonian one," Julii Cooper says. "I don't like him. The cheerful, brutish one." Octavian recognizes the description of Pullo. "What extraordinary names these plebs have," Julii Cooper muses to herself, completely oblivious to what I call her.
When we rejoin Octavian in the yard, a lesson is already underway. Pullo and Octavian are sparring with shields and wooden swords. Pullo backs Octavian across the yard, and even manages to disarm the boy simply by letting him bounce his sword off Pullo's shield. Octavian thinks that means they're done, until Pullo shields him in the side. His "Sorry, dude, but you gotta know this stuff" look is excellent. Frustrated, Octavian throws down his own shield and calls a halt, and then slumps over to a bench and calls for water. Pullo drops his own weapons and joins him. Octavian, clearly winded, says, "I have no soldiery stuff in me. This exertion brings on a fever. I feel it in my spleen." Pullo says he's just not used to it. "I've seen you kill," he remembers. "There's plenty of soldier in you." Though not as much as Julii Cooper thinks there was the other night in the cupboard with Caesar. Octavian says he's fine at killing someone who's not fighting back, and that he'll never be more than a middling swordsman. Pullo says that's good enough, but Octavian points out that "the graveyards are full of middling swordsmen. Best to be no swordsman at all than a middling swordsman." Pullo laughs and claps Octavian on the shoulder, sloshing his water. "Don't do that," Octavian orders sharply. Pullo apologizes. After a respectful pause, he says he'd like to ask Octavian's advice about something. Which is cool, because he doesn't even realize that the fastest way to get Octavian back on your side is to give him a chance to show you how smart he is. Pullo presents his situation: "Suppose you saw something which made you suspect something. Something terrible. Would you tell the husband of the suspicious article?" Octavian quickly figures out that Pullo's talking about Vorenus and his wife, and makes a long speech. The kid's entertaining to listen to, but life's too short for me always to be transcribing his long-winded dissertations. His gist, though, is that Pullo needs to keep his mouth shut until he has the facts. "I knew you'd hit the jugular," Pullo nods approvingly.
Pompey stands on the beach, the low surf just beginning to lap over his sandals. He's still in Italy...now he's not...now he is again...now he's not. And so on. A slave approaches, hands him a scroll, and backs away a few paces to kneel on the sand. Pompey unrolls the scroll and reads it. "Refuses truce?" he asks. "What now?" The scroll drops into the water at his feet. I wish he'd try to throw it like GOB did that time. The only thing that was missing from that scene was armor. Pompey comments that it must be nice to be a slave and not ever have to make any decisions: "How very restful it must be." Shut up, Pompey. Try it some time if that's how you feel.
Naked Romans! At the steam bath, Vorenus approaches Erastes Fulmen, the guest of honor at Vorenus's party in the last episode. He artfully arranges the large towel he's wearing over one shoulder and sits down without revealing his bits. Come here often, do you, Vorenus? He cuts right to the chase: he needs to borrow some money and he's heard Erastes has some moneylender friends. He explains that his slaves died and that he needs to get some new capital. Erastes doesn't want to hook Vorenus up with any moneylenders, since it's kind of a rough trade: "A man can't pay, he may have to suffer." Vorenus agrees that it's a bad idea, and thanks Erastes for his time. Erastes says that there are other ways to make money. What he takes a long time to say, and what Vorenus takes a long time to get, is that Erastes wants to hire him as a bodyguard. "It's good money," Erastes promises, while Vorenus looks sad and hurt. Poor Vorenus, reduced to hired muscle instead of earning an honest living trafficking in human beings.
Pullo skulks in an archway, watching Evander and Lyde have a very public fight in the busy street. He skulks well for such a big guy.
At night, an anonymous citizen does some skulking of his own. He lets out a loud whistle, and we see that he's been blocking our view of a busy graffiti artist who's just finished a wall cartoon of Caesar and Servilia doing it canis-style. Oh, no he di'in't.
The morning, Niobe helps Vorenus to get dressed for his first day of work, putting on the B.C. equivalent of a black suit with sunglasses and a wire in the ear. She compliments him on his businesslike appearance, and he says he's just a bodyguard. "It's a start," she encourages, and he heads out for his first day of guarding bodies. Or so he thinks.
The Caesars are going out on a little outing. Calpurnia's riding on a litter, with Caesar on foot in front of her and Posca walking in front of him and any number of attendants surrounding them. So Posca is the first to see the randy graffito of Caesar and Servilia (not the same one from last night, though) when the entourage turns a corner. But it's not like he can say anything. "Hey, guys, can we go back? I forgot my pager"? I don't think so. Caesar notices it , as well as the increasing volume of cackles from citizenry on the street. "What's the matter with everyone?" Calpurnia wonders, because she hasn't seen the writing on the wall yet. Or walls, I should say. It's practically an advertising blitz. Citizens get bolder and bolder with their mocking, which seems unlikely given that Caesar is basically God in this town. Finally, Calpurnia is brought face to face with a particularly eye-catching illustration captioned "Ceas Servilia Cinaed." Except the two figures aren't doing anything I've ever seen at a Sinead O'Connor concert. Calpurnia looks disgusted. And not unlike Carmela Soprano. I'm sure that's a coincidence.
Once they get home (and what a long walk that must have been), Calpurnia lays down an ultimatum: Caesar must either dump Servilia, or she's divorcing him: "Perhaps that is not enough to deter you. Be that as it may, I am indifferent." She stomps off. Posca reminds Caesar that he's going to need Calpurnia's family on his side. Caesar snaps that he already knows. Hey, until Steve the Wisecracking Time-Traveler gets here, everyone's just going to have to be on the receiving end of their share of expository dialogue. Suck it up, Jules.
Vorenus meets up with Erastes and his other men in an alley. Do you suppose the plural of "Fulmen" is "Fulman"? They all head off to begin the day's work. One of Erastes's men whistles idly as they walk along, until Erastes snaps, "Enough of that Teuton droning. If you want to whistle like someone's bum boy, use a good Roman song at least." The guy stops whistling. Probably couldn't think of a good Roman song.
Erastes leads the group into a house occupied by a couple of old-school Indians, with beards and turbans and everything else they'd need to dance in The Nutcracker. It's about time this show got less white. Like every other period's largest city, Rome must have been a melting pot of people from all over the known world. And even more so, because it's likely that any number of individuals were actually, literally melted. Erastes and the householder, Tanjit, greet each other warmly and fulsomely. It can only go downhill from here. Tanjit offers milk to Erastes, who scoffs, "Run out of piss, did you?" Even his own men don't laugh with him as he looks around the room. Tanjit manages to acknowledge the joke without registering amusement. Erastes starts in on a whole Soprano-esque song and dance about how sad he is to be there asking for the money Tanjit owes him. Tanjit in turn complains about the fifty useless ("diseased and scrofulous") truffle-hunting pigs Erastes sold him. He offers one-quarter price, "out of friendship." Erastes demands every denarius, adding, "You cac-faced cunny!" Tanjit takes offense. If he's going to be cursed at on HBO on Sunday night, he wants it to be on Deadwood, where the cocksuckers know how to do it properly.
Erastes, taking a plate of snacks from a handy slave, turns the conversation onto a philosophical course, asking about the Hindu belief in life after death. Tanjit confirms it rather than reaching for a weapon like any non-idiot would do, and Erastes smashes the plate across Tanjit's face. Tanjit's friends are quickly subdued by the Fulman, while Vorenus looks on appalled. Erastes stands on his victim's neck and orders Vorenus to break Tanjit's arm. Vorenus hesitates, but when Erastes repeats the order, he finds himself something to use as a club and complies. Tanjit screams. But his arm's soul will live on. Erastes again demands his money, calling Tanjit a monkey's cunt. Tanjit invites Erastes to kiss his ass. It's Deadwood and The Sopranos all in one, with just a touch of Curb Your Enthusiasm. Instead of taking him up on it, Erastes picks up Tanjit's sword and holds it out to Vorenus, telling him to cut the man's throat. Vorenus, horrified, takes the blade and puts it to Tanjit's neck. And then turns to walk out, still carrying Tanjit's sword. "What are you doing?" Erastes yells after him. "What, indeed," Vorenus thinks. He walks out into the now-foggy street, all out of focus. He looks back in horror toward the scene he just left, wishing he had signed on to an operation where customer satisfaction is job one. But seriously, how stupid is Erastes? You don't make the new guy kill someone as his first task. Get him comfortable and used to the job and the money so it's harder for him to walk away when you do ask him to commit murder. And for the gods' sakes, make sure the victim isn't someone who knows how to use the word "scrofulous" in a sentence.
So then Vorenus has to go home and tell Niobe what happened. "And you refused him?" she asks. He whisper-yells at her that he's not a bandit. Niobe agrees that he did the right thing, but there's still the question of how they're going to pay the rent and feed the kids. She doesn't even mention the two extra mouths he's brought into the house already. Vorenus does what he does best, which is to glower. Oh, and the baby's crying, because babies always cry when you're poor.
Servilia nervously paces her bedchamber, until her maid comes in and excitedly says, "He's here!" Grinning like an infatuated loon, Servilia runs out to the front room and reaches for Caesar's face. But before her hands even touch him, he quickly grabs her wrists and pushes them down. "I regret I cannot stay," he says formally. "I've come to say goodbye." He explains that he's going after Pompey, and that they won't see each other again. It's starting to hit Servilia, as she tells her not to joke. "I am not joking," Caesar says. Yeah, I've noticed that about him. Servilia reaches for him again, asking if this is about the graffiti. But he stops her again, firmly saying, "We are done." Servilia begins to cry, protesting, "We love each other." Caesar tries to assure her that it's not that he doesn't love her (although his tone sounds like he's conducting an exit interview), but "there are, however, larger issues at stake and I must do what is right for the Republic." Servilia immediately spots this as the bullshit it is and angrily spits, "'The Republic'?" She slaps him across the face. Caesar is taken aback, but she's got more where that came from. She does have quite a lot of area to cover, after all. But then he smacks her one back, hard. His expression has gone from cold to coldly furious, making him even more disturbing to look upon than usual. He slowly, deliberately, draws back and pops her another one, and then another, backhanded, until she finally rocks back and goes down. He glares at her and turns to leave without another word. So in addition to all his other charms, he's a woman-beater too. When's Brutus getting back, already?
The morning, Julii Cooper sits on a couch at home laughing to herself. Octavia wanders in, asking why her mom's in such a good mood. I hope it's not because Julii Cooper is spitting out fruit pits so that her slave can catch them and pop them into her own mouth, because that's just dismaying. Julii Cooper denies that she's had some evil plan work out as expected. "Nor should you suggest otherwise," she advises Octavia pleasantly. "To anyone." So Julii Cooper totally played Caesar with her little PR campaign, the equivalent of hiring a bunch of bloggers to disseminate a targeted message. Can't wait to see what happens when Caesar finds out. I hope it's at one of those dinners she's always inviting him to.
Grouchy Caesar's back at camp, in his tent, in his armor, in a deeply pissy mood. Throwing scrolls around, he tells Mark Antony that they're going after Pompey tomorrow. So everyone was totally right. Mark Antony's thrilled to hear it, until Caesar orders him to stay behind and keep the peace. Mark Antony complains about the assignment, until Caesar snarls, "You will follow orders, damn you." But he doesn't slap Mark Antony and make him cry, at least.
At Pompey's camp, the formerly great man walks alone slowly along the cliff overlooking the sea. He trips a little over a rock and continues on, looking back at the stone as though it has offended him. Nearby, Brutus and Cicero watch their leader slowly losing it. Apropos of more than he'd care to admit out loud, Cicero tells Brutus that he's got a farm nearby that he's thinking of going to, and invites Brutus to join him. Brutus politely says he'll stick around. "The sea air is bracing, at least." he Britishes. Cicero says he can't go without Brutus, because it would look cowardly: "I do not have a grand, shining old name like you." Just wait until Dante and Shakespeare get done with him. Cicero says he'll stay. "I'm sorry, old man," Brutus even-more-Britishes. They watch Pompey mope some more. I'm starting to get the hang of Pompey's faction. Cato is the anti-Caesar hardliner, Cicero is the limp-wristed, wisecracking pragmatist, Scipio is loyal and boisterous, and Brutus is just really, really British. Noted.
Caesar and his army ride across Italy under his Golden Eagle standard. It's all very horsey and dusty.
Servilia lies awake on her bed, bereft. Her maid decides to go do something about it.
At Caesar's encampment -- now Mark Antony's -- Vorenus waits outside the general's tent, still in his civilian clothes. And as if that's not enough to put him in a mood, the soldier standing guard to him has begun whistling that same tune that Erastes's man was whistling before. Vorenus snaps at the soldier that he's on duty. The soldier either remembers Vorenus or is totally convinced by his bearing, because he snaps to attention and doesn't even start whistling a good Roman song. But then Posca comes out before Vorenus can really get going and tells him that Mark Antony will see him. Vorenus follows Posca into the tent.
Inside, Vorenus stands at ease before Mark Antony. Who, of course, is making a big show of not acknowledging the former Centurion's presence for about ten minutes. Vorenus bears it patiently. Finally, Mark Antony gets tired of the sound of his own creaking leather armor as he paces around and, without looking up, asks, "What do you want, citizen?" Vorenus says he's reconsidered Mark Antony's offer to join Evocati. Looking, for the first time, at Vorenus instead of the paper he's holding, Mark Antony asks, "I...said...you could join Evocati?" Vorenus, finally seeing how this is going to go, says, "With respect, sir, you did." Mark Antony creaks at him some more and asks what terms he offered. Vorenus recaps, "Evocati Prefect, first grade, ten thousand sesterce." Mark Antony blinks, like, "What was I thinking?," and reminds Vorenus that he declined the offer. Then Mark Antony decides he's had enough fun; with Caesar gone, he needs good men: "So I give it to you. Promotion to Prefect, and nine thousand sesterce." Vorenus opens his mouth to protest, but thinks better of it and thanks Mark Antony. Mark Antony creaks right up into Vorenus's face and says he expects loyalty to the death. Vorenus agrees, and Mark Antony plants a smack on his cheek. "Welcome home," he says, and creaks away. "Dismissed." Vorenus leaves. That actually went better for him than I expected it to. We don't get to see him order the tent guard crucified for whistling, sadly.
Servilia is still in bed when her maid and a couple of men lead a captured graffiti artist into the room. "Didn't take long to make him speak," the maid says, and spits in his face. Servilia asks who hired him, and the maid fingers Timon. Realizing that that means Julii Cooper's behind this, Servilia jumps out of bed and orders, "Dress me." Oh, it's on now. We don't see the artist's hands cut off or his eyes scooped out, but I'm pretty sure that's only because it's time for another shot of Caesar and his army riding at full gallop.
Vorenus joins his family in the courtyard. Or, actually, he tries to walk right past them as Niobe excitedly confirms that the army will have him back. He goes upstairs and sits disconsolately at the table. She follows him and puts her hands on his soldiers. Vorenus: "Evocati Prefect first grade, nine thousand sesterce. I've sold myself to a tyrant. It had to be done." Niobe sits down to him and thanks him. Vorenus glowers sadly.
Someone goes out to that big calendar wall and moves a little box from one cubbyhole to another. I still don't get it, but I'm digging the fancier directing this episode.
Vorenus, in full armor and helmet, makes his way through the streets, looking pinched and constipated. His new helmet has a regular mohawk attached to it now instead of a sideways one, but he doesn't seem too happy about it. He reaches the Forum, looking literally as well as figuratively trapped inside his helmet with the cheek-guards tied down tight, almost like he's trying to pull his head down behind his breastplate to escape the stares of a citizenry who's seeing him in a uniform he doesn't believe in anymore. He approaches a columned building (The Temple of the Evocati? I don't know. I can't for the life of me find it on Mapquest and I'm at a total loss) where a guy is standing outside rhythmically beating a sword onto a shield. Vorenus looks at the old veterans flanking the entrance (identifiable by their eagle-emblazoned tunics), including one who shakes a bowl of coins at him expectantly. The doors swing open wide, and an elderly man allows Vorenus inside. I think I'll call him Cadaverus.
There's a nice dissolve from the blackness of the building's interior to a dimly-lit room at Servilia's place. She's burning incense and wearing a shawl over her head, invoking Tyche (the goddess of fortune), Meagara (the Fury who personifies jealousy), and Nemesis (the goddess of retribution) to watch her kick it curse-style. She begins by cursing Caesar as she scratches deep strokes into some thin piece of soft metal with a stylus. "Let his penis wither. Let his bones crack. Let him see his legions drown in their own blood. Gods of the Inferno, I offer to you his limbs, his head, his mouth, his breath, his speech, his hands, his liver, his heart, his stomach. Gods of the Inferno, let me see him suffer deeply, and I will rejoice and sacrifice to you." Wait, this is her big revenge? A curse? This is not how a powerful aristocrat of the ancient world exacts revenge. This is how Phoebe Buffay exacts revenge, okay? I'm sorely disappointed. Sure, she's taking it completely seriously, as are the musical score and the cinematography, but I hope to God she doesn't think she's just done now. I want to see something tangible.
Inside the temple, Cadaverus the priest lights some torches and makes a signal to a kneeling Vorenus, who removes his helmet and unsheathes his sword.
Servilia's maid watches Curse Two: The Cursening. Servilia's now cursing Julii Cooper: "Let dogs rape her. Let her children die and her houses burn. Let her live a long life of bitter misery and shame." She leaves out the part about Julii Cooper's penis withering, an oversight that she may live to regret. As she goes on in voice-over, we see Julii Cooper sleeping, which allows Octavian to sneak right past her, out the compound door, and into the foggy, dusky street, where he's joined by a silent and stone-faced Pullo. Servilia finishes offering up all the same parts of Julii Cooper that she did of Caesar, and rolls up the sheet of metal into a little quesadilla -- a curse-adilla, if you will -- which she hands to a maid.
Evander's out on the streets in full dark for some reason, perhaps having been kicked out by his wife for the night. Hello? Curfew? But the torch he's holding doesn't prevent a cloaked, hooded figure from grabbing him from behind and slamming him unconscious into the nearest wall. The figure is joined by another, and no one's surprised when they pull down their hoods to reveal themselves to us as Pullo and Octavian. Well, except for the hood-pulling part. There wasn't really a good reason for that.
Under cover of darkness, Servilia's maid goes up to Julii Cooper's house and jams the little metal curse-adilla into a crack in the wall.
Pullo and Octavian have spirited Evander down to a sewer tunnel below the street somewhere. I imagine Pullo did most of the spiriting, so as to prevent strain on Octavian's spleen. Pullo yanks off the cloth bag he tied over Evander's head and says to him, "Here we are, then, friend." Evander asks what Pullo wants, and Pullo asks about him and Niobe. Evander swears up and down that there's nothing between them. "Furies tear my eyes out if I lie," he spazzes. Don't give him ideas, dudeus. He spins a story about how he and his wife were fighting and he went to Niobe for advice, which was when Pullo saw him at Vorenus's house. He sweats and pants and blinks fearfully, looking Pullo in the eye the whole time. Except for a couple of nervous glances that he steals at an impassive Octavian to see how his story's going over. That's all Octavian needs. "Lying," he pronounces calmly. Pullo believes him, and tells Evander as much. "This boy's clever. Like you don't know what," he says. Wow, that clever? Pullo draws his sword. Evander begs, and Pullo tells him not to embarrass himself.
Servilia's maid sticks the other curse-adilla into a crack in Caesar's house. I wonder if there's going to be some wacky mix-up with the curses getting switched around, and Caesar ends up getting raped by dogs and Julii Cooper wonders, "Who are these legions in my house, and why are they drowning in their own blood?"
Octavian is laying down some cold, cold shit on Evander: "Move forward. Your life is over. The only question is, how do you want to die?" He windily explains that if Evander continues to lie, they'll torture him for hours, but that they'll do it quickly if he confesses. I like this evil kid, but he's a bitch to recap. Pullo just glares at Evander, who doesn't have anything more to say. "Torture him," Octavian orders Pullo, which totally cracks his bad-ass aura. "Juno's cunt, but you're salty," Pullo tells Octavian. "And I was worried about bringing you." Octavian tells him to go ahead, and when Pullo confesses that he doesn't know how to go about it, Octavian suggests starting by cutting off Evander's thumbs. Pullo gamely reaches for the digits, but Evander, horrified at the thought of not being able to hitchhike to the underworld, abruptly confesses. "Niobe and I were lovers! I confess it. Now kill me if you must." Pullo winds up to do it, but at the last moment, Octavian calmly says, "Hold." I like that expression. I think I'll try and bring it back. I'll let you know how it goes. Pullo holds, unhappy about being pulled back from the brink of murder. Octavian thinks Evander has more to say: "You're lying again. You stand at Pluto's door. Will you sully his threshold with lies?" Yeah, I'm sure Pluto's pretty obsessive-compulsive about his threshold, with all the shit that goes down there. Evander insists that he has nothing to add. Octavian again tells Pullo to cut off his thumbs, and this time it happens. Evander screams, Pullo tosses, and the sewage below plops.
Vorenus is still getting inducted, which seems to involve a lot of holding still. You'd think that, given the shorter life expectancy back then, they'd make these ceremonies a lot shorter. Or maybe it was the soldiers who insisted on the long process, figuring that the more time they spent inside nice safe temples getting inducted into shit, the less time they could spend on the battlefield getting their asses killed to death.
Back to the sewers. Looks like the Furies have stopped by, because Evander's lost his depth perception in a pretty grisly way. But with a name like Evander, I'm surprised his ears are still intact. Choking, he admits, "The child is mine." He begs Pullo to kill him, but Pullo doesn't oblige until his confusion is cleared up: Lucius, the baby, is Niobe's and Evander's son, not Vorena's, as he and Vorenus have been led to believe. Satisfied, Pullo sinks his sword into Evander and tips his body into the stream below. Octavian just looks like, "Ah, plebs. What are you gonna do?"
Cadaverus carries a goblet to where Vorenus is kneeling. He dips a thumb into it and daubs Vorenus's forehead, nose, and chin with a gory stripe. Probably got the blood from a bull that was a newborn calf when Vorenus came in here.
At dawn, a manhole cover slides aside, and Pullo and Octavian climb out to the street. Octavian pants, "We have buried this evil now. You must never speak of it again. Vorenus must never know. Never." So Octavian basically ordered a man tortured and murdered in front of him to satisfy his own idle curiosity? That's cold with a capital 100. "Never," Pullo agrees, which we don't believe for a second, even when he slides the manhole cover back into place with a symbolic clank.
Cadaverus invokes Mars and prays over a re-helmeted Vorenus. "May his enemies flee from him! May their city walls crumble! May their cattle and women be taken!" The temple doors open, and Vorenus stands looking out at the street. "This man is now Evocati," Cadaverus intones, like I'm supposed to know what that means.
Caesar and the Ceasarites ride at full speed down an embankment, arriving on the cliff that held Pompey's camp. I say "held," because the camp is burning, having been abandoned. Caesar gazes over the scene suspiciously. An officer announces, "Sir, they've sailed for Greece." And with the sea so pretty and blue, who could blame them? At least they were thoughtful enough to leave a note saying where they were going.