This here's a bloody one. To consolidate their expected victory, Octavian and Mark Antony make up an extensive enemies list, and assign Vorenus and his crime boss buddies to carry out the hits. Cicero is first on the list, and Pullo suggests bringing along the family, maybe a picnic, make a day of it. Not even kidding. Before Pullo kills him, however, Cicero gets wind of the plot and dispatches a letter to Brutus warning him of Octavian and Antony's alliance. But the letter gets lost among the picnicking Vorenii, as documents of historic import so often do. Vorenus has big plans for the future of the Collegia, but Memmio's plotting something that involves a greasy dude and Vorena the Elder, so we'll have to wait and see how that turns out. Watching the legions depart Rome, Pullo gets nostalgic for his army days until Eirene informs him that she's "preglant." Aw, a half-brother for little Caesarion. Timon and his brother are sharing common interests now, so Timon's thuggishness combined with Levi's political activism equips them to crack some kingmaking skulls. See if Herod gets to rule Judea now, eh? Octavia's friend Jocasta, whose family got put on Octavian's enemies list at Julii Cooper's request, shows up at her front door, and now Julii Cooper has no choice but to take her in. And just when she was feeling so smug about figuring out that Octavia and Agrippa are totally doing it, too. Finally, Brutus, Cassius, and their fourteen legions meet Octavian, Antony, and their nineteen legions at Philippi, Greece. It goes about the way you'd expect, except that we actually get to see some of the fighting. Cassius is killed, and Brutus goes down swinging in ironically Caesar-like fashion, leaving Antony and Octavian alive and victorious. I'm sure they'll be fighting each other again soon.
Brutus and Cassius are marching with their army through northern Greece. Cassius is multitasking, riding along with some sort of miniature traveling desk on the saddle in front of him while also stressing about how much food they're going through. Brutus cheerfully says that he's been talking to their men. All 100,000 of them? "They had no idea Greece was so large," he grins Britshly. I imagine almost any country is large if you have to walk across it. Brutus teases Cassius about making them march on, and Cassius grumbles that they have to find "good ground." He doesn't want to be buried just anywhere (spoiler!). When Brutus remarks that the men are amiable enough (just what you want in an army of mercenary killers), Cassius calls them "ravening, potbellied whore-scum. I hope they fight as well as they eat." Well, yeah, this many men on this long a march will consume a lot of provisions. It's like if somebody took charge of Woodstock and told everyone, "Okay, for the performer, we're all walking to Indianapolis." Brutus tries to cheer up his old co-conspirator by raising his eyes to the spectacle of the huge column of soldiers on the road before and behind them. "I see only a hundred thousand mouths to feed," Cassius grumps. Brutus reminds him that they're saving the Republic. Oh, who hasn't saved the Republic several times on this show by now? Everyone talks about how great the Republic is, but with all the saving it's constantly in need of, I'm starting to see the "Republic" as this helpless, dizzy chick that's always getting tied to train tracks and menaced by cougars. Shut up, "Republic."
Mark Antony's camp in Cisalpine Gaul. In his tent with Lepidus, Posca, Octavian, Agrippa, and Maecenas (the tent's a bit crowded), Antony is looking over a map and suggesting the brilliant stratagem of taking Brutus by surprise. As in, he expects that Brutus will be surprised to find himself facing both Octavian's army and his own. Octavian is too busy writing on a clay tablet to be impressed, even if this wasn't already completely obvious to him, which it is. He closes the tablet, the heavy wooden case of which is adorned with a medallion of his sphinx seal, and hands it to Mark Antony, saying that it's a list of supporters Brutus still has in Rome, and suggesting, "We should kill them before they learn what we're about." "You are a ferocious little cunt...with a pen," Antony tells Octavian, who we can see isn't taking this lightly because he's now got his back to the rest of the men and is rubbing his face unhappily. Poor little Stalinist. Lepidus protests that the list includes "the finest men in Rome. Some of them [Lepidus's] good friends." "Their money will be useful as well," Maecenas calmly points out. Lepidus tells Mark Antony to explain why this won't happen. After a pause, and another look at the list, Antony weighs in: "Cicero is the cleverest bastard of them all and the one with the largest network of spies. He must die first." Not at all personal, I'm sure. Lepidus sits in shock as Antony decides to add a few names of his own. Octavian says that he'll go tell everyone that he plans to head east alone, and Antony says that when they return to Rome, he'll go ahead as well and leave Lepidus behind to keep the peace (and also to not desert to Brutus's side, although he doesn't say that).
Lepidus tries again to protest the killings, but the plan is already moving forward, as Octavian orders Agrippa to convey the list to our old buddy Vorenus. "Add instructions telling him to divide the names among the gangs." It'll be interesting to see how Vorenus deals with the crisis of conscience this is likely to cause him. From behind Octavian, a female voice chimes in to suggest a name. "Not Servilia," Octavian says as he turns to face his mother, previously unnoticed in this scene. You think he knows about the little party his mother threw for Servilia? I doubt it. In any case, Julii Cooper's only suggesting Rufus Tranquillus, not that anybody knows who that is. Well, except for Agrippa, who asks, "Isn't he father to Octavia's friend Jocasta?" Smooth play there, Gripster, but nobody comments on how up to speed he is on Octavia's social life. Julii Cooper says that it's because she doesn't like Jocasta. "She's a bad influence," she repeats. Octavian tells her to be serious about this, so she adds that Jocasta's father is hugely rich. Posca confirms this. Octavian just stands there blinking at the speed with which the ideological purity of his mission is going down the shitter. "Woe unto Rufus Tranquillus, then," Antony decides, writing some more. Woe, dude. Octavian wants Vorenus and Pullo to deal with Cicero personally, because they're the show's nominal leads and all. Handing the tablet off to Agrippa, Antony says, "Tell them to cut off his hands and nail them to the Senate door. I told the old fool I'd do it if he ever crossed me again. Nobody can possibly say that I don't keep my word." His threatening words, at least.
Later, as Octavian rides out of camp flanked by Agrippa and Maecenas, Antony and Julii Cooper say their goodbyes outside his tent. She says she's tired of always saying goodbyes, and he promises that, after Greece, they'll never have to be apart again. We've heard that before. Julii Cooper: "When you return, you must bring me Brutus's head as a wedding present." Dude, she said the "W" word. Antony's been through too many battles to flee in panic, but you can tell he wants to. He plays it cool, though, telling her that they'll talk about it when he gets back. Much smoother than asking her who she's marrying would have been. She climbs up into the back of a luxuriously padded horse cart, telling Antony to be careful with Octavian. He assures her that he knows how to handle her son. "That's what I'm afraid of," says Julii Cooper as the horse cart takes her away at the tail end of Octavian's caravan. However will Julii Cooper's men get along without her to separate them every few seconds?
At the Aventine Collegium, Gaia's giving Vorena the Elder a bit of a makeover. Fun's over, though, when Vorenus comes along and sees what's happening. "Wash that off at once," he orders, and Vorena hurries off to comply. Gaia asks what the big deal is, and Vorenus tells her, "Paint yourself as you wish. Stay away from my daughter." To Mascius, who's been lounging nearby this whole time, Vorenus gives orders to have the other Collegia captains meet there today. Scooping up Little Lucius, Vorenus leaves the room. As Mascius gets up to follow him out, Gaia sarcastically thanks him for sticking up for her. He tells her, "Shut up. He's captain, she's his daughter. He says don't paint her, don't fucking paint her." "Spoken like a true third man," sasses Gaia. Mascius comes right back at her, warning her, "Be careful, slave. I have my limits." She keeps pushing, he may be forced to kill her (as yet nonexistent) fiancé and then marry her.
Meanwhile, Vorena the Elder has found a quiet corner to scrub the blush off her face with her dry shawl. Jeez, he said wash, not scour. Get a few more tears in there, girl.
At the captains' meeting, that heavy tablet with Octavian's seal on it is now in Vorenus's hands, and he's already divvied up the names and had lists of ten passed out to each of the rest of the captains. Which is quite a feat, considering that there were about five names when we saw the list earlier. Antony's a prolific cuss. Of the people on each list, Vorenus tells the bosses, "You've been given license to kill them and take of theirs what you and your men can carry." In other words, this assignment isn't pricking his conscience in the least. I don't get him sometimes. When someone asks on whose authority these killings are being ordered, he says it's by order of Octavian Caesar. Surprisingly, the asker doesn't end up with the imprint of a sphinx in his forehead. Some of the bosses start complaining about the way the list has been divided, but Vorenus is momentarily too distracted by his kids running past on their way outside to get too pissed off about it. "Try to keep them out of the mud," he tells Vorena the Elder of the other two children. An aged chaperone is with them as well, but we'll see how useless she is soon enough.
Outside, of course, Lucius goes right into the mud, while Vorena yells at him to come out. The little group is noticed by a shaven-headed man in the crowded plaza outside, who goes up to another man with about an entire pig's worth of grease in his hair, and tells him, "That's the one." Greasius makes his move, approaching Vorena the Elder from behind. Addressing her as "Lady," he asks for directions to some temple or other, but stops when she turns to face him, as if her beauty has struck him even dumber. Vorena gets all self-conscious, so the accented chaperone intervenes and tells him, "Vai. Vai, you don't talk. Vai." She'd be more intimidating if she made any damn sense. She hurries the Younger Vorenii off, leaving Greasius to find his temple his own damn self.
Inside the Collegium, the fight over spoils is still in full swing, while Pullo distractedly doodles on his table with a bit of chalk. His subject? A sword and the number XIII. Thinking about the old days, are we? Finally, Vorenus puts a lid on the bickering, asking the bosses which of them has ever seen as much money as they're going to be making from the upcoming purge, demanding of them, "What shall we do with all this wealth?" One guy cackles, but Vorenus says that he's serious. Memmio realizes that Vorenus already has a plan, and indeed Vorenus does. He says that the Feast of Pomona is coming up, and tells them that, back in the day, the Collegia used to distribute fish and bread to the people on the occasion. Not-Memmio asks why they would bother. Vorenus says that the Collegia used to be like part of the community, and should be so again. Memmio says that was the old days: "Things change, brother." Vorenus agrees, and says that things are changing now. "Whoever wins in Greece wins Rome. Some kind of peace will follow. Peace is no friend to men like us -- men who thrive on blood and anarchy." This gets Pullo's attention, of course. Vorenus concludes, "The Collegia must change, or they'll die." He's still getting resistance, so he picks up Octavian's tablet and heads upstairs to his office. As he goes, he says that the rest of them can do whatever they want, but that he's going to be handing out loaves and fishes like a messianic mofo. One of the guys complains that Vorenus is only doing this to make the rest of them look bad. "For that you need no help from me," Vorenus no-brainers. It's Memmio who stops Vorenus on his way up the stairs, saying that Vorenus is right: "We shall be charitable, we shall be large. Let us feed the people. By all means, goodwill." Vorenus nods, satisfied, and ducks into his office, apparently having completely forgotten what happened the last time Memmio suddenly came around to his point of view.
Out on the plaza, Greasius has apparently given up his nonexistent search for the Temple of Whatever, and is now busy weaving a little Blair Witch couple out of wicker. He whistles to Little Lucius and beckons him over, whispering in the boy's ear and handing him the item. Little Lucius scampers back over and gives it to his oldest sister as the chaperone naps with her head leaning against the wall. One job, this lady has. Upon receiving the gift, Vorena glances over at Greasius, who gives a little smile and nod. Enchanted by the man's gift, his kind expression, and his four pointy bangs, Vorena returns the gesture shyly, and then turns away to say something to her sister. But when she turns back, Greasius is gone. Probably slid right through a crack in the wall he was leaning against.
After the captains' meeting has been adjourned, Memmio and Not-Memmio are walking up that giant staircase out of the neighborhood. Not-Memmio asks why Memmio backed Vorenus, and Memmio expansively tells him, "He's a man of vision...It's our duty as Romans to back him. And?" This last is directed at Greasius, who's been waiting for Memmio on the stairs. "It's done," Greasius tells Memmio, who smiles and continues his ascent. Sounds like Memmio has an evil plan, not that we'll find out what it is this week.
To underscore the point, Pullo is remarking to Vorenus that Memmio's untrustworthy. "Too smooth by half," he assesses, and Vorenus agrees. First things first, though. He tells Pullo to take care of Cicero, directing him to Cicero's villa in Tusculum: "They want it done quick." Pullo says that he'll get his stuff and go. Vorenus tells him no looting: "We'll show some respect." Much as Cicero showed Vorenus when Caesar appointed Vorenus as a Senator. Good times.
A bit later, Pullo's all set to go except for a stop in the kitchen to stuff some lunch in his knapsack. As he sets his sword on the counter, Gaia saunters in, commenting on the weapon's sharpness. "Don't touch that," Pullo says, a little sharply himself. She tries to make conversation, but he's not interested: "I know your game, I don't want any part of it." So Gaia takes his hand and runs it up the inside of her naked thigh, telling him, "Too bad. It's a good game." Subtle, this girl. Pullo continues to rebuff her advances: "Don't flatter yourself. We're done." He leaves her there. Good thing he got over his little crush, too, because Eirene has just shown up and has witnessed this little moment unobserved. As Pullo's about to head out, Eirene emerges from the shadows to ask what Gaia wanted. "Oh, nothing," says Pullo. "You know her." Indeed Eirene does. She asks where Pullo's going, and says he's off for the day for some work. He invites her to come along: "Lovely country where I'm going." Just then Vorenus comes out of his upper office, and Pullo suggests to him, "Why don't we all go?"
Cut to a shot of a picnic blanket being spread out under the sun in a beautiful clearing. It's idyllic and sunny and perfect, with Vorenus and all the kids and even Lyde along for the trip. Hey, if you have to do a hit, there's no sense in wasting the opportunity to turn it into a family picnic. Pullo takes his leave of the group, even though Eirene asks him not to. I think she's trying to foreshadow again, but she doesn't have the knack of it yet. He mounts up, telling them to save him some chicken: "Otherwise I'm eating Lucius when I get back." I assume he means the little one, although who knows how far his relationship with Vorenus has progressed off-camera? He rides off down the road at a walk, two slaves behind him on foot.
At Cicero's villa, the man himself is in his rear courtyard, playing a board game involving black and white stones. His opponent is a young boy with whose rear courtyard I presume Cicero is no less familiar. This subtly ooky scene is interrupted by Cicero's slave Tyro, and another man who brings news from Antony's camp. The messenger whispers into Cicero's ear. Cicero's face gets very serious as his attention shifts from the game on the table in front of him to the much larger one, in which he's about to be taken off the board.
A bit later, Pullo and his little party ride slowly along the lane, while Cicero's little friend hides behind a tree, and then dashes off girlishly into the woods.
Back to Cicero in his courtyard, writing so fast that he's literally sweating. But can he recap four episodes of 24 in a week? In voice-over, we hear the contents of his urgent letter to Brutus: "Octavian and Antony are reconciled. Their two armies are united. They plan to descend on Greece and take you by surprise with an overwhelming force." In panic, Tyro rushes in and tells Cicero that men with swords have just arrived. Cicero finishes his letter, telling Brutus to retreat to Asia while there's still time. Tyro throws himself across Cicero's shoulders, begging him to run himself. Cicero refuses, pushing Tyro away: "Too late for that." Then he saves and sends his document. Or, in ancient Roman terms, he scatters powder over the parchment to dry the ink, rolls it into a tube, and hangs the tube over the shoulder of a waiting courier, as the sound of the front door being bashed down echoes through the house. "On your life, you must get this letter to Brutus," Cicero urgently tells the courier, and sends him out the back way with Tyro.
And thus Pullo finds him alone in the courtyard. "Are you Cicero, then?" he asks, because this is the first time they've met, believe it or not. He already knows that Cicero knows what Pullo's doing there. Cicero asks Pullo's name, and acts honored that his assassin is someone famous. Pullo returns the compliment: "Everyone's heard of Cicero." Indeed, my first encounter with the name was when I was about five years old. It was in connection with an awful pizza parlor, but still. Pullo's acting all friendly, because Cicero's setting his tone of mock pleasantness and Pullo's going with it, taking it for the real thing. Cicero tells Pullo, "I daresay your work today will earn you immortality." Pullo asks what Cicero means, and Cicero says that since he himself will go down in history, his killer's name probably will as well. "Ah, my name," says Pullo. "Thought you meant me." How embarrassing for Cicero to have to be assassinated by a moron. Pullo then notices the peaches growing on a nearby tree. "Just getting ripe," Cicero remarks ruefully. At least he won't have to can them now. He ventures to offer Pullo a bribe to let him live, but it gets him nowhere. "Imagine the fuss," Pullo chuckles. "I get back and I haven't done my job." Just then Tyro rushes back in, waving a rusty, flimsy sword he found somewhere and generally making an idiot of himself. Annoyed, Pullo tells Tyro to quite messing around and drop his weapon. Pullo still hasn't drawn himself, even when he stomps up within range of Tyro's blade. Cicero also tells Tyro to knock it off, and makes him drop the sword himself. Pullo nods, thanks Cicero, and finally draws. Cicero asks for a moment first. "Whenever you're ready," Pullo agrees, sheathing his sword. Cicero turns away to make peace with his gods, but even that moment is denied him when Pullo asks to pick some peaches. Swallowing his annoyance, Cicero tells Pullo to go ahead. "Nice present for the wife," Pullo says gratefully, and starts harvesting. Cicero looks up into the sky at a hawk circling high overhead. At least it's not a buzzard. His eyelids flutter, and he tells Pullo, "Now." Pullo sets down his peaches, redraws, and steps toward Cicero, who tells Tyro to quit his histrionic crying. The good news, Cicero says, is that Tyro's been freed in his will. "Take care of my people," he says, and Tyro tearfully agrees. They say their goodbyes, and Cicero returns to Pullo. Putting a friendly hand on Cicero's shoulder, Pullo tells him, "Easiest if you kneel." Cicero gets to his knees and pulls the collar of his tunic aside to expose his neck and shoulder. Raising the point of his sword to Cicero's shoulder, Pullo advises Tyro not to watch, but Tyro does anyway as Pullo sinks his blade straight down behind Cicero's clavicle. Cicero gasps as CGI blood spurts from his carotid, and he quickly flops face-down on the ground. And that's the end of Cicero. Way to make this moment seem more significant by making the scene leading up to it last forever.
Back at the picnic, Lyde and Vorenus relax as they watch Vorena the Elder play tag with Little Lucius. They agree that she's a beautiful girl, and they also agree that it's a shame she'll never have a family of her own. Lyde says that maybe she could marry anyway, as Niobe would have wanted. Vorenus says, "Niobe would only want her married to a decent man. And no decent man would have her." Nice thing to say about your own daughter. But before the discussion can continue, they're alarmed by the sound of Vorena trying to stop Lucius from running into the road, just as Cicero's courier is dashing up at full gallop. Lucius freezes in the path of the oncoming hooves, but the rider manages to pull his horse to a stop just in time. Vorenus steps into the road and sends Lucius back into the arms of the women as the courier bitches at Vorenus. Hitting about a 3 on his personal rage scale, Vorenus says that the courier was riding too fast. "Fuck you and your fucking mongrels," the courier replies. "Get out of my way!" He raises his riding crop to strike, sending Vorenus's rage scale spiking up to 7. The courier quickly finds himself yanked out of the saddle instead, the tube containing Cicero's letter falling unnoticed to the ground. Vorenus makes ready to deliver a crunchy beating, until Lyde tells him not to do it in front of the children. Vorenus forbears, and lets the man up and back on his horse. The courier resumes his gallop, unaware that he stopped couri-ing the second he hit the ground. Nice job, dude. He's going to be so embarrassed when he gets to Greece. ["I assume this guy's descendants went on to found DHL." -- Wing Chun] Vorenus tells the kids to get back to playing and sternly orders Little Lucius to stay out of the road. But before returning to the clearing, Little Lucius and Vorena the Younger open the courier's dropped tube and run off with the scroll they find inside. Those idiot children. Do they have any idea how much that letter would be worth on eBay right now?
Later, Vorenus is entertaining the family by juggling crabapples (appropriately enough), when Pullo rides up bearing peaches, not a drop of blood on him. He hands Vorenus the satchel he's carrying as they talk about what a nice day they both had. Pullo says that Cicero's not stuck up like you might expect, as Vorenus digs the peaches out of the satchel and distributes them among the fam. Vorena the Younger has folded the parchment into a hat for Little Lucius. These being the last written words of Marcus Tullius Cicero, worn around on some little kid's head..
At night, in the rain, in the empty Forum, Pullo uses a giant cartoon mallet to nail Cicero's soft, pink hands to the Senate door. Well, I guess Cicero is stuck up now, in a sense. And I hope Pullo at least washed the peach juice off them first.
Octavian's back in Rome, in Caesar's villa. Posca rushes into his office -- where he's hanging out with Agrippa and Maecenas -- with more names from Mark Antony. "Antony has many enemies," says Posca. "It takes time to remember them all." Agrippa protests that maybe the thousand or so they've already killed might be enough. A thousand? Holy crap, this is a massacre. ["Yes, as I recall this segment was among the less boring in Tacitus." -- Wing Chun] Maecenas coldly remarks that they have to pay their soldiers somehow. Octavian sides with Agrippa: "We do not want to appear butchers." "Certainly not," Maecenas snots, thinking, "Sissius Marius." Disturbed at how things are going (and the fact that his wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression of distress makes him look exactly like Kellie Martin), Agrippa leaves the room.
Out in the courtyard, Agrippa's joined by Octavia, who isn't about to improve his mood any. She teases, "It's tiring work, I imagine, killing people. Even defenseless ones." As she sits down to him, Agrippa makes the excuse that they'll let most of their victims escape into exile, so that they'll lose only their property. "So just ruined," Octavia says. "That's all right, then." Agrippa says it's all -- say it with me and Octavia -- "for the good of the Republic." He's about to leave, but she stops him and asks why he's been avoiding her. He says that it's to avoid any "awkwardness," which of course makes her say he doesn't really love her after all. Pained, Agrippa begs Octavia to disregard whatever she's read in that bestselling scroll, He Be Just Not That Into You, and says it's not like anything can happen between them anyway. Octavia asks if that isn't up to her, and Agrippa says that of course it isn't. He's the son of a nobody and the grandson of a slave: "You'll marry some useful nobleman of your brother's choosing." This of course completely bums her out. Agrippa apologizes and starts talking again, and the thing you know, they're kissing. He quickly cuts it off and jumps to attention when they hear a door close. Maecenas comes around the corner, politely greeting Octavia and telling Agrippa, "We can't find the wretched blasted figures for the blasted tax projections." Such language, and in front of a lady! My stars! Agrippa scampers off to go find them. Maecenas looks like he's about to say something to Octavia, but then decides otherwise and leaves her sitting there. Amazing: he can shut up. He leaves Octavia smiling to herself all schoolgirly. If girls went to school in ancient Rome, that is.
Here's a scene that shows us that its not just gentiles embroiled in political intrigue. Inside a Jewish temple somewhere, a rabbi is running a fractious meeting that seems to be about financing a bribe to the eventual rulers of Rome on behalf of some dude who wants to be king of Judea, name of Herod. Good luck to him. As the men in the temple argue, a man's shrill voice suddenly cuts through the din, demanding, "How has it come to this?" The man is of course Timon's brother Levi, who steps from his spot near the door into the middle of the room, angrily bitching about what's going on there. "Who do you think you are?" demands one old man. Timon gets in the man's face, telling him, "Sit down, Moses." Levi denounces Herod as an idolator. The rabbi says that, of all their choices, at least Herod is someone they can work with. "Why let any of them rule?" Timon asks. "This is our land." Levi is even more blunt: "You are traitors to your own kind! May Hashem have mercy on all of you." Which of course is something people only say when they want [insert deity name here] to stomp your ass flat, and everyone knows it. The rabbi steps down and gets in Levi's face, telling him, "Name yourselves." Levi responds with some names I don't know, but I understand when he says, "We are the wrath of Israel." ["Ah, not the People's Front of Judea? Splitters!" -- Wing Chun] And when he spits in the rabbi's face, well, you don't even have to know English to follow that. Then the punching starts. Timon lets out a whistle, and a bunch of their guys run in to join the melee and give cover to Timon and Levi's escape.
The brothers run out into the street, arms around each other, as Levi joyously kisses his brother on both cheeks, like they just scored some huge triumph. The other guys catch up, wondering what the point of all this is. Flush with the zeal of a recent convert, Timon says that they're "redeeming the kingdom of Zion." He and Levi go on about being the "chosen people," and then scamper off, leaving their sidemen unconvinced and not a little irritated. Especially because the scampering was triggered by a line of soldiers running through the street in full armor. Way to strike a blow there, boys, against other Jews. I also can't wait until the inevitable moment of disenchantment when Timon discovers that his brother is as corrupt as Timon ever was. (I'm not spoiled, I'm just guessing.)
We follow the running Roman soldiers all the way to the plaza in front of the Aventine Collegium, where plebs are gratefully lined up to collect the bread and fish Vorenus is giving away. He joins Pullo at an outdoor table, but his friend isn't sharing his expansive mood; his mind is on Octavian and his scheduled departure from Rome today. They both figure that this one will be winner take all. "Shame not to be there," Pullo says with feeling. Vorenus tells him to cheer up. They're done with all that, and there'll be peace soon anyway. That's so not what Pullo wants to hear. "You know how it goes with me in peacetime," he says. Good point there. He figures he'll be out of a job before long. Vorenus says that they can do big things together, but Pullo says that it'll be Vorenus doing them. "It's good to see you so happy and full of purpose again," says Pullo, jinxing Vorenus but good. "You're second man in the Aventine," Vorenus reminds him. Pullo sarcastically envisions his tombstone: "'Second man on the Aventine. He handed out many fish.'" And also killed Cicero. How soon he forgets. Still, Pullo remains bitter that he doesn't get to be a soldier anymore.
In a back street bawdy house somewhere, a creepy old blind dude is wandering the halls and intoning "second hour." I guess you have to be blind for this job so as not to see the naked people having sex in the rooms when you go right up to the door. One of these naked couples, as it happens, is Octavia and Agrippa, nude and clearly post-coital. They do it some more later, and then, later still, Agrippa gets up to take a shower. Dude, running water in 42 B.C.? This is a class joint. The slave calls the third hour, and Agrippa thinks that can't be right. "They're always right," Octavia assures him. He teases her for knowing from bawdy-house slaves, and then apologizes for being possessive. She joins him, saying that she likes that about him. Not that it's Agrippa's business, but I believe Octavia's last visit to a place like this was with her husband, so it shouldn't be a big deal anyway.
Later, Agrippa's all dressed and armored and pinning his cape to his breastplate. They're both unhappy that he's leaving. But he's late, so he has to go. They kiss goodbye and he leaves her there, crying and still naked. I hope he at least didn't stick her with the room bill.
Octavian's military escort is hastily assembling in the street behind Julii Cooper's house. The gates to the stable yard open to admit the camera as Julii Cooper follows Octavian to his white stallion (which may be the same one his self presented to Caesar all those years ago), haranguing him to be nice to Mark Antony. Maecenas arrives, saying that the troops are waiting for them on the Field of Mars. Octavian asks where Agrippa is, and Maecenas suspects that he's saying goodbye to a woman. Tying on his helmet, he adds, "He attends to several whores, or one lover. I don't know which." Helpful. Thanks for sharing. Julii Cooper gets back to bugging Octavian, telling him not to act so superior all the time, in light of how it irritates Antony and anyone else with a pulse: "We all know how clever you are. No one needs reminding." Agrippa rushes in just then, all sweaty and apologetic from being late. Octavian scolds, "Hot from a brothel bed on such a day. Agrippa, I'm ashamed of you." Agrippa denies it, but Octavian is only teasing, and he lets it go. Such a kidder, that Octavian. Julii Cooper kisses him goodbye. Octavia rushes out from the back of the house, half-undone and spouting excuses about having to go to the temple to deal with her "women's troubles." Octavia kisses her brother goodbye. Agrippa got his earlier, of course. Octavian climbs onto his horse on the back of a soldier, dons his black-plumed helmet, and rides slowly out of the stable yard, his seconds in tow. Outside, the army detachment marches off down the street behind him.
Watching the soldiers march past outside, Julii Cooper brightly tells her daughter, "Well, now you can tell me all about Agrippa...how long have you two been lovers?" Octavia denies it for about two seconds, and then asks her mother, "How did you know?" Julii Cooper says she didn't until now. Good one, Octavia. No wonder Julii Cooper always thinks she can outwit people. She spends too much time with her daughter. I spend time with my two-year-old, too, but I don't expect my peers to fall for the old "Oh, I don't think you'll like my beer" trick all the time. Inside the house, Octavia begs her mother not to tell Octavian about the affair, and Julii Cooper agrees that she might as well have some fun. Besides, this way she can bank a little leverage for later against either one of them. "Just as long as you keep your wits about you," Julii Cooper advises. "Don't be thinking you can go off and marry him some day, because it's not going to happen." Octavia knows this, but says she loves Agrippa. Julii Cooper shakes her head. "Soft as cheese," she affectionately laments. I think she's referring to Octavia there, not her own head.
Just then, there's a hammering on the front door and a desperate scream for help. The door opens and Jocasta spills inside, weeping and ragged on all fours. Octavia runs to her friend and asks what happened. Jocasta laments, "Men came in the night! All my family is dead! They killed them, and took me away! They have dishonored me!" Me, me, me. And how are you, Octavia? How does this day find you? Selfish girl. Octavia assures Jocasta that they'll keep her safe now. Julii Cooper readily agrees, and then makes a hilarious oopsie-face. It was inevitable that her uncharacteristically lengthy run of non-self-destructive manipulations would come to an end, I suppose.
At night, in his room, Pullo opens his old army foot locker. He takes out his old, dented helmet and starts to polish it while sitting on the edge of the bed. Eirene comes in and sits down on the other side of the bed so their backs are to each other in a not-at-all-symbolic way. "Whole place stinks of fish, don't it?" Pullo remarks. Eirene doesn't mind; it reminds her of home. Pullo didn't know she was from Seattle. Eirene says that they lived near a big, deep lake with lots of fish. "What is the helmet for?" she asks without missing a beat. "Nothing," Pullo says. What's he gong to say, the chamber pot's on the blink? He says that he was just thinking about old days, and chuckles that of course he's not leaving with the soldiers today. Although he does admit that he thought about it. As Eirene sits there silently, waiting to be left again, Pullo mentions that he'd probably have a higher rank now, meaning more respect and money for both of them. "Probably buy a lake," he says. When he adds that it would be a short campaign, however, Eirene starts crying. Pissed off, Pullo throws his helmet back in his foot locker and curses, "I was only talking. No call for blubbery." He never gets to have any fun. Eirene drops her bomb: "I'm preglant." Pullo gets up from the bed and walks around to face her, making sure he heard her right. Which he did: she just said it wrong. "Whatever you call it," she sobs, and flops down on the bed. Pullo just stands there to her, hands on his hips and chuckling in amazement. I hope he'll be a little more supportive than this as her preglancy progresses.
Brutus is hanging out in Cassius's tent, sprawled out on the couch and admiring the signet ring that Servilia sent him in the last episode. Annoyed, Cassius asks what the deal is with the ring, but his attitude changes when he hears it belonged to Brutus's father and was sent along by his mother. "It's a good fit," he up-sucks. This sensitive moment is interrupted when a soldier enters with the news that scouts have sighted the enemy. "At last," Brutus says, sitting up in excitement. The bad news is that it's not just Octavian; the scouts also spotted Antony's oh-so-scary Heron standard. They're facing at least nineteen legions. "To our fourteen," Brutus says sadly. "The worm turns." Cassius asks how far away they are, and the solider tells them a day's march. Cassius gives the order to muster the men, break camp, and start the retreat, but Brutus kiboshes that. "No more running," he tells Cassius. "We will meet them here tomorrow. If we win, all the more glory for us. And if we are to die, this is as good a place as any. It's in the hands of the gods now. We have the upper ground." Cassius isn't too jazzed about dying because Brutus is bored of constantly retreating, but he agrees. "As he says," Cassius tells the solider, who leaves the tent with no orders of any kind.
The subtitle for the scene tells us we're in Philippi, Northern Greece. On a wide plain, we see -- get this -- thousands of soldiers arrayed against one another. I'm sure they're all CGI, but I don't even give a shit at this point. This show has been dodging battles ever since showing us that claustrophobic woodland skirmish in the opening scene of the whole series, and now it's finally going to pay off. Or else the show's combat choreographers got tired of running away as well. The camera slowly travels through the ranks, finally finding Brutus on horseback to Cassius, both men in extravagantly plumed helmets. Brutus suddenly remembers that it's Cassius's birthday. He shakes his friend's hand, wishes him a happy birthday, and apologizes that there's no cake. Cassius says Brutus can bake him an extra big one year: "No cinnamon. Makes me sneeze." Something tells me Cassius won't have to worry about it.
On the other side, a clean-shaven Antony and Octavian are commemorating the historic moment with similarly mundane concerns. "If you need to urinate, now would be the time," Antony advises his young sidekick. Octavian stiffly says he's fine. In his element, Antony tells Octavian to watch closely: "This is how history is made. Now, let's have some fun." Not that it'll be very much fun for the millions of pixels about to give their lives, but it's not a general's job to worry about that. He raises and lowers one hand, and the tribune in front of his horse bellows, "Advaaaaaance!" Antony's front rank lowers its spears, and his army begins the short march forward.
Meanwhile, Cassius raises his own hand, and then apologizes to Brutus. "Would you like the honor?" he asks. Dude, go for it. You've got birthday-power. Brutus tells Cassius to go ahead, and their army marches forward as well.
There's no music, just the sound of two hundred thousand boots hitting the ground, two hundred thousand sets of arms and armor moving inexorably towards one another. The camera lowers itself down into the closing gap, and then it's on. Shields clash, get pierced by swords, hit men in the face , the whole violent and brutal schmear. A man goes down with a sword in his chest, and then the hand holding the sword gets hacked off. A guy takes a sword point in the carotid, Cicero-style. A fallen man sits up from the ground, stabbing an enemy in the groin. A shell-shocked man stands staring around, helmetless, and then gets stabbed in the back. The camera rises again, and we see that this is going on for acres, if not square miles, while smoke and the inchoate din of shouting, killing, and dying men rise above the valley. It's much better than hearing about it after the fact from the Town Crier. Who, by the way, is getting his first episode off in the entire series. I almost forgot to miss him.
On the hill above the battle, Antony's having a little snack as he listens to the noise from below. Octavian asks him what's going on. "No idea," Antony says lightly, and then tosses away the remainder of his bread and draws his sword. Octavian nervously asks where he's going. "When in doubt, attack!" says Antony, galloping off with an entire cavalry unit. Octavian glances over at Agrippa, who is consumed with jealousy and champing at the bit harder than his horse is. Octavian rolls his eyes and tells his friend, "Go." Gratefully, Agrippa takes two cavalrymen and rides toward the fray.
The battle is still going on in full force, with swords piercing chain mail, denting helmets, and doing all manner of violence to flesh and steel. A man falls to a dead horse, sending up a great red splash when he lands in a deep puddle of equine blood. It's both gross and awesome. Before long, the fighting stops and the chasing begins. Run away, run away!
A soldier rides back to Brutus and tells him that their right flank is gone. Brutus doesn't seem to think this is good news.
Out on the field, Cassius and a group of soldiers run out of a cloud of dust. Cassius observes, "Our right flank is gone! Send in the reserve cohort!" I don't know who he thinks he's telling this to, since it's just him and about twenty other guys by themselves out here right now. Just then, a flight of arrows from out of nowhere hisses into the sand at, and at least in one case through, their feet. "Testudo!" yells the Centurion at Cassius's side, dragging him back into the center of the unit as the men raise their shields skyward. They're certainly well trained, as they work like a Transformer that changes from a bunch of guys into a solid roof. More arrows come down from the sky, some of them poking holes through shields, and thence, hands and faces. After the hail of arrows stops, Cassius hollers an order in Latin and draws his sword. The men emerge from cover and advance at Cassius's order, into slow motion and frame rate and a cloud of black smoke that brings back unpleasant memories of "Pharsalus." Careful.
Later, four soldiers dash up to Brutus, carrying a grievously wounded Cassius on a stretcher. Brutus asks Cassius what happened. "Not sure, to be honest," Cassius says through a mouthful of blood. "Hell of a birthday." Well, at least now he's caked with gore. Brutus tells him that the day's not over yet. Splendid news; it can only get better from here, right? A centurion tells Brutus that they have to fall back. Brutus looks around, to see a large number of his remaining men dropping their helmets and weapons and taking to their heels. Brutus tells Cassius they have to get going, but when he looks down, Cassius is already dead. At least his age was a nice round number. As the soldier tries to get Brutus to go already, Brutus embraces his dead friend. And when he looks up again, the horizon is black with what looks like an entire army coming to kill him personally. Brutus's men salute him, and he says that it's been an honor and a pleasure: "I am sorry we could not do better. But you must look to yourselves now. Save your skins." To the nearest soldier, he says, "Give my best to my mother." Who got him into this, ultimately, over a bad breakup, but whatever. "Tell her...tell her something suitable," Brutus finally Buffys.
Brutus takes a dagger off the hip of another soldier, and then turns to face the approaching horde. He kisses his signet ring, which is on the opposite hand from before. He looks skyward, then begins walking to meet the approaching army, using his borrowed dagger to cut off his breastplate as he goes. Hurling dagger and armor aside (he throws armor like a girl, by the way), he draws his sword and stands facing his nine million opponents in his tunic, looking skinny and helpless and vulnerable and basically suicidal. The army halts before him. The remains of Brutus's officers make no move to flee the scene behind him, even though one of them is now shy a dagger. After a long moment, Brutus leaps into the opposing forces' midst. He gets bounced between a few shields and ends up on his ass, but quickly gets up and manages to slash one enemy soldier's leg beneath his shield. He gets another shield-edge in the gut, and then goes down again, spitting. When he stands again, a soldier stabs him in the back. Another pokes him in the gut. Brutus hangs on this man as yet another sword enters his upper back, and another and another. Finally he falls, and men surround him, stabbing him again and again, swarming over him like scorpions. Do scorpions swarm? Imagine them swarming, but with swords instead of stingers, and you'll get the idea.
Later, the victorious generals survey the battlefield from horseback. Antony says something about the smell of victory. "Smoke, shit, and rotting flesh," Octavian says. Antony loves it, of course, and would probably bottle it if he could. Agrippa comes along and reports that they've found Cassius's body, but that they're still looking for Brutus. Okay, that's just careless. Antony says that when they find him, they should have Brutus's head packed in salt for the trip back to Rome: "People appreciate the little touches, I find." By way of illustration, we see one of the scavengers crouch down, lift up a dead hand, and cut off the finger holding a familiar signet ring. The scavenger grins toothlessly at his find. See? The little touches.