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Spartacus!
You charge without thought.
A weakness an opponent
could turn to advantage.
A difficult feat from his backside.
You speak without thought as well.
Another weakness.
Thracians.
Always on their backs,
with their legs spread.
Where they belong.
Forget everything you
learned outside these walls.
For that is the world of men.
We are more!
We are gladiators!
Study.
Train.
Bleed.
And one day your name will be legend,
spoken in hushed
whispers of fear and awe.
As the city speaks of Crixus,
the Champion of Capua!
But his legend was
not birthed in the arena.
It was given life here.
In this ludus.
Under the sting of my whip!
Attack!
Attend!
The Vulcanalia is announced!
Vulcanalia?
A festival to ward off wildfires.
Dominus Batiatus has
seen fit to fight twenty
at this year's Vulcanalia.
His gift to the people of Capua!
Our lowest shall fight at dawn.
Eight pairs to follow.
After which your master
will present his Primus.
Two of our finest, to meet in the arena!
Crixus, then?
Crixus certainly.
And his opponent?
Against the Champion of Capua?
What would it matter?
Twenty men,
I pledge twenty men to fill
the ranks of the Vulcanalia,
my own coin to see each victor paid,
what thanks do I
get from the magistrate?
He fears he will be unable
to attend our reception
on the eve of the games due
to "pressing concerns"!
Of what sort?
I hear rumor he
dines with Solonius instead.
Solonius?
But he offers not one
man for the Vulcanalia.
Yet his tongue still
manages to find his way
to the magistrate's ***.
Is that new?
For the reception, yes.
The rising cost of this
thing raises concern.
It raises opportunity.
I question not its import.
I question its scale.
This drought has stretched
our resources thin
and now without the attendance
of the magistrate...
Darling, you must spend
coins to receive coins.
My husband taught me that.
A wise man.
He has his moments.
And this will be one of them.
You'll delight and astound,
securing business for the year to come.
And perhaps even tempt Glaber's wife
to take up the cause of patronage.
Ilithyia?
I thought she was still in Rome
with that ungrateful husband of hers.
She returns absent him for the games.
She's acquiring quite a taste for them.
One which I shall nourish to advantage.
This new color suites you.
Oh, shall I dye the rest to match?
The bird would be
better served in my bowl.
Odds the meal would be your last.
Barca?
He stands but tall.
He stands a legend.
After Carthage suffered
defeat by the romans,
they forced hundreds of his people
to fight against
each other in the arena.
Half a day passed,
and only two remained...
Barca.
And the chief of his people,
the noble Mago.
Skill and the testament
of years were his allies.
Strength and youth Barca's.
Mago fell to his knees...
And Barca became the Beast of Carthage.
He sent an old man on his way.
Mago was a warrior fierce renown.
A chief upon a throne of blood.
He was also Barca's father,
as the story tells.
Is it true?
In the world of the gladiator,
a man's fame and glory
constructs its own truth.
Fame and glory.
I seek neither.
Coin, then. Like me...
Open the gates.
Have the guard ready.
A moment Dominus.
Ten paces.
Is there any news of my wife?
She was indeed sold
to a syrian merchant.
You found her?
I have cause to believe she
sails upon the orontes.
To Damascus, then?
Or perhaps Antioch?
Do I appear a *** arrow,
my nose pointing towards
your wife's dripping thighs!?!
You press beyond position!
Dominus.
The search continues,
that's all you need to know
until then, fight, win.
The price of her freedom requires
substantial sums on your part.
Show me something of note.
A moment. I have just the thing.
My finest piece.
A flawless gem imported at great cost
from the mines of Scythia.
Price? Thirty denarii.
Thirty?
This piece.
Is it something that
Ilithyia would favor?
It's the only piece I'd show her.
She has very refined tastes.
Twenty-five.
Twenty-nine.
Twenty-eight and I'll resist
pitching you off the balcony.
Twenty-eight, then.
Um.
Come along then.
Form two! Ready!
One.
Form one, ready!
One...
Two..
Form two.
Ready!
One..
Two.
Form three!
Stand.
Spartacus!
Do you dream of the mines?
My focus is on
blood and battle, Doctore.
Yet your training proves
you worthy of neither.
I am a thracian.
It is in my blood.
Thrace.
A swamp of ***.
Kneel.
The lands from which you
hail matters no longer.
The only thing that does
is the sound of my voice...
And the sand beneath your feet.
You will learn to worship it.
Back to training.
The sand smells like Thrace.
Perhaps I should ***
to complete the aroma.
You. You are summoned.
This drought seems never to end.
How do you fare?
Domina provides for me.
That's good.
Good.
How long have you served Domina?
All my life.
I was born in this ludus.
And recently come to blossom.
I barely noticed till I,
I saw you at the games with Domina
three moons past,
I fought Arnoch of Tarquinii.
Did you enjoy my victory?
I was pleased. When it ended.
It's no easy task to sever a man's head.
You must find the right angle.
I do not favor the games.
Well that is an odd bent,
for a slave,
at a gladiator school.
One not to be straightened.
I did not mean to insult.
Domina awaits.
You walk too slowly to my chambers.
I do not want to arouse the suspicions
of my men as to my purpose.
And what might that be,
oh, Champion of Capua?
Whatever Domina desires.
I brought this
necklace for the reception...
Do you think its too much?
My blood rises.
But to give the necklace
credit would be false.
And what quickens your pulse?
The touch of your lips.
Your ***...
And all of the pleasures below...
I need your *** inside me.
And I need it in me now.
Never lose focus!
Not if Jupiter himself
were to rip open the heavens
and dangle his *** from the skies!
A gladiator's first
distraction is his last.
Not all contests end in death...
Two fingers.
A sign of surrender.
And shame.
The oath I swore to this place
did not including begging.
He inquires as to the nuances of..
I need no lesson in submission.
You favor a different lesson?
In obedience, perhaps?
To the hole!
Both of you!
Perhaps I spoke out of turn.
Perhaps?
What I perceived as courage in
you reveals itself foolishness.
To surrender in the arena...I cannot do.
I must have victory.
What happens when that is
something you cannot provide?
Silence, then.
Next time you vex Doctore,
you'll find my
tongue of a similar fashion.
Your company here was not my intent.
Yet here I stand beside you,
my *** soaking in the same ***.
Apologies.
Well, that's all?
No reason behind it,
no glimpse int the fevered brain
of what the *** are you doing?
I seek only to please Batiatus.
Pluto's ***.
The answer has no
balance with your actions.
He made a promise.
What could he offer a man who
seeks neither fame nor glory.
My wife.
Taken from me when I was
captured by the romans.
I prevail in the arena,
and he will find her.
Is she worth it?
She's worth everything.
As is mine.
Two years here.
Pay my debts with the winnings.
Hold her in my arms again.
Perhaps the smell will
have washed off by then.
What name do you call her?
Aurelia.
Yours?
Sura.
So.
Buried up to your balls in garbage.
This part of your plan to get Sura back?
You'd waste your ration
cleaning a bit of cloth?
It bears meaning to me.
Gather.
Your master's hand has been at work.
The pairings of the
Vulcanalia have been decided.
Crixus!
The unbeaten Champion of Capua.
You will honor the House of Batiatus
by fighting in his Primus!
And who will challenge me, Doctore?
A man of skill and dedication.
His ability, his hard
work and his hunger
shall be rewarded.
Gnaeus!
At last we meet brother.
Don't die to quickly.
Me?
I will *** your corpse.
With what ***?
Ashur carries the remainder.
May the gods be with you!
One by one.
One by one you *** ***!
Batiatus himself handed me this list..
Give it here, *** ***.
Savages.
*** ***.
Let me see it.
Give it here.
Did you gain position?
As did you.
We are set to fight each other,
at the start of the games.
The first match?!
The slot of the meek and insubstantial!
We shall prove otherwise.
To what aim?
The victor's purse won't
be more than half a coin.
So little?
Not enough for either of our causes.
And for the Primus?
Considerably more.
I already bested Crixus once,
in the final test.
Now I must fight my
way up through the dregs
to face him again?
Dregs am I?
You know my meaning.
If Batiatus hadn't stayed my hand,
I would have parted his
brains from his skull.
There is no love lost
between myself and Crixus...
But I caution, he's dangerous.
A reputation built on what?
Facing men such as Gnaeus
and his little net?
Crixus forged his reputation
against far worse.
Demons, belched from the underworld.
The gargan twins.
Decimus and Tiberius.
Sons of a ***, *** by a jackal.
More beasts than men.
They terrorized the eastern
seaboard for many years,
until their capture.
They were cast into the arena to die.
But instead flourished on
meals of bone and blood...
The bodies of stout men
left in their wake, half devoured.
No one dared face them willingly.
Except for one...
Crixus! Champion of Capua!
The blood flowed. The crowd roared.
And the demons fell beneath
his sword...
The sons of a jackal?
So they say.
The story is a jest.
Like Crixus himself.
Did you hear this one?!
One day, maybe you prove yourself.
Until then, you fight at dawn
with the rest of the *** ***.
I keep pace with the mighty Spartacus.
Still place my worth among the dregs?
I misspoke.
A theme with you, is it not?
I shall call you equal.
More will need to be earned.
It will be a good fight.
May the gods see us both survive.
There are many I would
see dead in this place.
You are not among them though.
You may not have a choice.
There is always a choice.
That look gives me worry.
Words I've heard often from my wife.
Your net's aim is
remarkably true, Gnaeus.
You strike an impressive figure.
Battling that little wooden man.
I long to see you in the arena.
Among the men, there you are...
With your fearsome net!
Like a young, wet girl.
*** ***!
The sun has made Gnaeus mad.
He charged like crazed goat.
I saw his eyes.
They were wild with thirst.
Barca! Kerza!
Tend to Gnaeus.
Back to work!
Ashur.
There is something
I want you to get for me.
Whatever your needs, Ashur provides.
Follow me, away from prying ears...
I must make a point to
stop standing beside you.
Gnaeus was of an unsteady nature.
If your intent was to claim
Gnaeus' berth in the Primus,
you're a fool.
He served five years before
he was afforded the privilege.
Sura cannot afford years.
Nor your death,
which is surely your station
if you face Crixus in the arena.
Gladiators!
Your public has arrived.
Dress quickly.
The reception begins.
Crixus!
Let good Mercato have a
closer look at your sword.
Dominus.
The very blade used to strike
down Tiberius and Decimus.
If you were to bestow Capua
with the gift of a munus,
what better means than securing Crixus?
Along with a dozen or
so of my other offerings
to round out the proceedings?
I have been contemplating games
in honor of my good friend..
Ashur!
Good Mercato has set his
mind to a day of games.
Let us see his order
well filled... shall we?
Ahh, the dust and the heat,
it worsens by the hour.
I'd yet be in Rome if it
weren't for the games.
You must promise
to visit while I'm here.
My father's villa is beyond depressing.
It's unfortunate your
husband couldn't join you.
How fares the Legatus?
In a mood.
Since his return from Thrace,
the senate has become his mistress.
Her demands on him are boundless.
Men and their ambitions.
You know they should learn to appreciate
the finer things in life.
That necklace. I adore it.
Oh this?
It's a trinket.
It calls to mind a piece I
had from Ramel one season.
When emerald was still the fashion.
I hear it's coming back around.
Oh. Perhaps I'll root mine out, then.
Friends, old and new!
Gratitude for honoring the
storied ludus of Batiatus
with your presence this eve.
Tomorrow's Vulcanalia promises
many glories in the arena.
But tonight...
May I present to you the finest
gladiators in all the Republic!
Look!
Touch!
Feel the quality of the stock!
Place your orders for any
of the men you covet!
Come! Don't be bashful, they won't bite!
And if they do, a ten percent discount!
The crowd fancies
our thracian, don't they?
A curiosity, born of his
fortune against Solonius' men.
Better curiosity than indifference!
Perhaps we could fuel this interest
into a conflagration of coin...
With Gnaeus of questionable skull,
what make you of Spartacus
as replacement in our Primus?
With respect Dominus,
the public seeks an honorable fight.
Spartacus is yet the animal.
Um, well I'll think on.
One day, though.
A contest to be promoted...
A moment alone.
A rarity for a man with
such an adoring public, huh?
To business, then.
A difficult task on short notice, yet...
Carried to completion.
*** ***.
Your gaul is of a fine cut, is he not?
None finer in all the Republic.
Such a man...
I tremble to see
him again at the arena...
As do we all.
The thracian yet lives?
For now.
Is there nothing
more of interest to see?
Well my husband will shortly
announce his Primus,
and there's is ample wine...
I fear it already beckons my sleep.
Perhaps I'd best take leave.
Course.
Of course there is one thing
that I thought you might enjoy,
its something of a much
more physical nature.
You.
Come with me.
Five denarii says he doesn't
last another twenty strokes.
I've never seen a
gladiator *** before...
Look at the way he rams her!
Like an enraged bull!
A gladiator's virtues
extends well beyond
the sands of the arena.
As lovers, they are said
to be ravenous beasts.
You can touch.
Oh, forgive me, Aurelia.
They provide unimaginable pleasures..
Can he do it again?
Make him do it again!
Proceed.
So, we are in agreement.
Rabanus will meet Crixus.
Move Hamilcar up to fill the void.
I overheard Batiatus and
Doctore in conference.
The Primus their intent.
The sardinian is to face Crixus.
The news does not balance my cause.
Whatever your thoughts, cast them out.
Good citizens!
You've enjoyed my food!
My wine!
The aphrodisiac presence
of my beautiful wife!
Now marvel at the announcing
of tomorrow's Primus!
Crixus, the Champion of Capua,
will stride across the sands and face..
Spartacus!
No! Let them fight!
Enough!
I will take your *** heart!
Come and take it, coward!
Haa!
See their hatred,
burning beyond control!
Huh?
This was merely a taste!
Tomorrow they will settle
this grudge in the arena!
Crixus, the undefeated!
Spartacus, the dog who defies death!
A fight for the ages!
Glory to Capua!
Glory to Rome!
The reception nearly ruined,
and what is his punishment?
The *** Primus!
You heard the crowd.
I made the best of a situation.
The thracian has yet to stand
a single match as gladiator.
Why leap him ahead of all
others to face Crixus?
Because of what he possesses.
The public's interest.
They stroke a rabid dog.
Spartacus has struck a chord.
I intend to maximize its profit.
He's unpredictable,
he has no regard for rules
or for honor and if something
happens to Crixus...
He poses no threat to Crixus.
He is but a novelty.
To be used and
discarded after a purpose.
*** god's ***
is there no wine left!
Well, what are you standing there for,
go and get some *** wine.
Apologies.
I did not mean to startle.
When we spoke last, I meant no offense.
I am practiced with sword not words.
If Domina discovers I
dropped the last jug...
Hand me the pieces.
I'll see them over the cliff.
Wait.
Perhaps this gift will
explain where words fail.
Please.
I'm trying to decide.
Upon what?
Congratulations or condolences.
You may have bested Crixus
once by tripping him
with that bit of cloth,
but to face him in the arena...
I believe his reputation inflated.
Tomorrow I shall prove it so.
Next he'll boast he can
defeat Theokoles himself.
Perhaps.
If I knew the man.
Theokoles.
The shadow of death.
He speaks so brazenly of the arena,
he knows nothing of its history.
Theokoles is no man, thracian.
He is something else entirely...
They say he stand over ten feet tall.
The very ground trembles at his feet.
His shadow eclipsing the sun.
Most men fall dead at the
sight of the giant.
They are the fortunate ones.
My father tells of a munus in which
the shadow fought over a hundred men.
Not one survived.
A tale, to frighten children.
Theokoles is no legend.
Before he retired from the arena,
only one man ever faced him and lived.
And he breathes among us,
his whip ever at our backs.
Now is not the hour for idle talk.
Tomorrow you step into the arena.
Many for the first time.
For some, perhaps the last.
They cheer for blood.
And they shall have it.
May the gods bring you fortune,
as they did me this morning.
Sura believed in the gods.
And when the romans took her,
not one descended from
the heavens to intervene.
I shall correct their mistake presently.
I believe you will.
The crowd favors your offerings.
Yes, a fine showing all around.
You honor our fair city, Batiatus.
The honor is mine, magistrate.
Truth told, I feared
the event would pass
without anything of note this year.
Its very difficult to
procure men of worth
for these minor games.
Good Solonius was already taken
with loftier engagements.
Perhaps Solonius will
be available next year.
One can but pray.
Perhaps I was wrong to
return absent the rain.
Some water perhaps.
Or maybe some wine.
Uhh, the thought churns the stomach.
Your company last night
yet astounds the senses.
Too much?
Of wine, definitely.
Of other interests...
I think the surface barely scratched.
Some water then,
to slake your current thirst.
Here we go, then.
Good citizens of Capua!
It is my great honor to
introduce to you the Primus
of Quintus Lentulus Batiatus!
Enter Thraex!
Behold Spartacus!
Spartacus! Spartacus!
Spartacus! Spartacus!
Renowned for his magnificent victory
at the games of senator Albinius!
Where he single handedly slaughtered
four of Solonius' gladiators!
Four!
Enter Murmillo!
The marvel before
you needs no introduction!
He's known by his sword!
By his shield! By his glory!
Crixus!
The Champion of Capua!
Finally, Crixus!
Look how his form catches the sun!
Capua!
Capua!
In honor of the name Batiatus
and the sacred Vulcanalia...
You had not yet finished the oration
and yet the thracian attacks!?!
Was that not supposed to happen?
No, it was not.
How exciting...
Is that all the thracian is capable of?
After what he did against Solonius' men,
I had hoped for more.
Capua!
Shall I begin!?!
Now you die, thracian.
Kill. Kill.
Kill, kill.
Kill, kill!
Spartacus fought well!
Let him live to fight another day!
A sour bite to end the meal.
Apologies.
Yet Spartacus was of some cost to me...
You've already lost the crowd.
He lives?
How disappointing.
His reputation is well earned.
My blade could find no weakness.
And yet... it was there.
At least ten points where you
could have seized advantage.
You needed more training.
I shall train harder then.
No.
It is too late for such things.