Spartacus

You were right, Varinia.

Vengeance alone is not enough.

To become like your enemy is to lose to him.

But what's important isn't our living or our dying

but this new thing we've created, however briefly.

A world without slaves.

And if you die, who will tell that story?

Live so that I will live.

So that we will live on.

So that it won't be wasted or forgotten.

Did you see the look he gave you, Varinia?

I didn't.

And even if I had, I wouldn't care.

What sort of look?

What look, you? What look?

Ow!

- What look?! - Varinia!

Hyah!

No!

I made a promise once to tell our story.

It began here in a small village in Gaul where I was born a free woman.

Then the Romans came and destroyed my world and made me a slave.

Nothing and no one could stand against the Romans.

But Rome herself was torn by conflict.

Bloody civil wars raged for years

between the plebeians and their rivals, the patricians,

led by senators like Marcus Crassus, the richest man in the world.

As a child, he had seen his father murdered in the Forum.

Crassus had risen from the ashes of his family's defeat

to unlimited wealth and unlimited ambition.

Ambition kept in check only by his rivals, like Antonius Agrippa.

The civil wars were over. Men smiled at one another in public.

But the fighting never stopped.

Agrippa. Fishing for votes?

No, just enjoying our democratic way of life.

A new wine. From Spain.

Delicious. But I like your cupbearer better.

Any news from Spain?

- A great victory by Pompey. - Another?

The man is positively boring in his triumphs.

I shall console myself with the way Crassus must feel.

Pompey's no great warrior.

I heard he's got so fat on the riches of his triumphs he can barely ride his horse.

Disparage Pompey all you like but the man gets the job done.

Victory over vermin-ridden Gaulish peasants is hardly the mark of military distinction.

They say he will be consul.

This grape...

...is not to my satisfaction. More wine.

I think I'm going to borrow your wife, Cornelius.

The wealth of a man like Crassus could be seen in gold or silver

but its true measure was in flesh.

Thousands of slaves.

They lived out their short lives in a world of suffering

at the whim of their masters.

No Roman citizen gave them a second thought.

Over there.

Greetings, citizens.

Today we offer a group of barbarians from Gaul,

courtesy of the great Pompey.

Ahoy, Batiatus. What brings you up from Capua?

The same thing as you, I would imagine.

My stock needs freshening.

Although how a modest man from the country can bid against a senator...

- I might as well go home. - A modest man from the country?

Yours is widely known as the finest gladiatorial school in all Italy.

- You flatter me. - No, not in the least.

Look at this beauty. And a virgin.

A virgin. Given the appetite of our frontier troops, I rather doubt that.

Being a virgin is overrated.

It's just an excuse to inflate the price.

Good teeth.

Wide hips. And an excellent breeder.

Magnificent.

She's easy on the eye, I'll grant you,

but these Gauls have thin blood.

They rarely last the winter. It would be throwing money away.

Why, Batiatus, are you in love?

Don't worry, my friend. I won't bid against you.

Oh, you're too kind, Senator.

- Though I may need a favor someday. - Oh... Of course. Of course.

500 sesterces!

Done!

How can the Senate choose Pompey over you as the next consul?

It would be a close vote.

I bought you a gift.

It's beautiful.

- You are too generous. - Am I?

I suppose I might be.

ln the arms of the richest man in Rome

- and her husband's best friend... - Show me.

... Helena might be forgiven her ignorance of the origin of that bracelet, its true cost.

What is hell?

Hell is that place where the simplest action becomes painful.

- Where it hurts to walk... - Move it!

... to breathe, even to think.

The gold mines of Egypt were such a hell.

Among the Thracian slaves condemned to an early death

there was one who would shake the Roman world.

His name - Spartacus.

Pick it up!

Pick it up!

No!

Stop!

So he's a Thracian, yes?

Worse. He's an animal.

Good. That's even better.

This is your lucky day, Thracian.

What kind of a place is this?

Hah! Hah!

Move!

Fresh meat!

Shut your hole! Get back to work.

You stink, animals. Clean yourselves.

This way.

I want all these chopped into thin slices. I would not serve this to a dog!

I could get used to this.

I am Gannicus. This is Spartacus.

David the Jew. He never talks. Some say he can't.

You're Thracians?

- The crowd likes Thracians. - Be quiet, Nordo. Eat.

Didn't get your name, friend.

You are not my friend. I don't want to know your name or your story.

Why not?

Because I might meet you in the arena, and then I will kill you.

Why wait?

You'll get plenty of chances to fight.

Save it for when you have no choice. Eat.

You must be the new Thracians.

I can always tell Thracians. You stink like pigs.

- You must be Crixus. - You've heard of me.

Who hasn't? "Crixus of the big nose." I'm not surprised you could smell us.

Enough!

To your cells! Now!

Well, move, slaves!

You, Spartacus.

Where did you learn to fight?

When a Roman asks you a question, you answer, slave.

Fighting Romans.

Good day to you, Crassus.

Crassus. what a pleasant surprise.

I had no idea you still partook of such common pleasures as our public baths.

I do not disdain the public.

Ah. You love mankind. It's only people you can't stand.

Now, why is it that those who are most in favor of mob rule

stand most to benefit from the public's greed and stupidity?

Why is it that the rich are always so keen on reform

after they've made their fortune and not before?

The republic was a fine form of government when Rome was a backwater city state.

Times have changed. Rome rules the world now.

And one man with a strong vision must rule Rome.

So power... should be wielded by whom?

The educated? The wealthy? The aristocrat? By Crassus?

Or by Pompey?

Well, Plato did say that leadership must be left to the educated.

That leaves Pompey out. Julius Caesar, you mean.

You've heard what they say about him?

"Every woman's man and every man's woman."

But you're right, Pompey overreaches.

If he's not careful, his head will be found hanging in the Forum

just like that of your father and your brother.

Was it something I said?

This... is the Roman short sword,

the gladius, from which you get your names.

22 inches long. Three pounds in weight.

A stabbing weapon for close work.

You kill a man with this and you can smell his sweat,

taste his breath.

But you sons of whores are not worthy of fighting with the gladius yet.

So you will use these wooden swords

while I teach you.

You, slave.

Pick it up.

Come at me.

Again.

Too slow, slave. Pick it up.

Too slow.

Cinna!

So what do you think of our Thracian slaves? Good, huh?

They have spirit but no real talent.

I see. So you think they're just lucky?

And Cinna,

this boy was very expensive.

Don't damage my property.

Enough! Go! Bring her.

Come.

Come here.

Very good.

Better.

Come.

Let me smell your hair.

Oh...

You know...

...I can be a very good master.

Oh, yes. Now, now... now.

- Now, kiss me. - No!

No! No!

Hold her!

No! No!

Hey, Spartacus.

- How's your nose? - You got lucky.