Spartacus: House of Ashur

Spartacus.

There's movement upon the path.

Ashur!

A man must accept his fate...

- -

...or be destroyed by it.

Ashur. Ashur. Ashur.

Your life was forfeit upon Vesuvius,

taken by one to whom you have done grave injustice.

And now here you kneel, joining your domina and her child

among the dead in the Underworld.

At what measure of a man stood you

when heart beat within chest?

A Syrian

despised by all;

a slave to my husband, Batiatus...

a gladiator...

...ever so briefly upon the sands of the arena...

...elevated to trusted conspirator,

valued for your gifts of cunning and deceit.

And when the House of Batiatus fell

to the mad Thracian Spartacus and his rebels...

- - Kill them all!

...you turned against your brothers...

aiding Roman masters -

an attempt to bring rebellious slaves to heel.

And yet you had already fallen well in advance of Spartacus,

being struck from the world of the living by Roman spears.

Yet the Fates weave many threads.

Your untimely passing was but single path

- of what might have been. -

Do you desire to bear witness to another?

- - A new reality,

uncoupled from history...

where you did not perish upon Vesuvius,

where instead you aligned with mighty Crassus,

the richest man in all the Republic,

and his dog of war,

Gaius Julius Caesar.

A path where you hurled fatal spear

that claimed the life of Spartacus...

- -

...and, in the act, saved Crassus,

who rewards you with patronage...

and all that once belonged to my noble husband.

Embrace the path the gods have set you upon.

Do you desire to know where that fate

would have led?

Awake, then...

The gods have brought you this far.

...and embrace a life that might have been.

I believe we are not done with you yet.

Wake!

- Dominus? -

Are you unwell?

A fleeting dream...

born of unfortunate meal in advance of slumber.

What did Morpheus reveal upon his shores?

It...

It...

eludes grasp of waking mind.

A thing of no importance.

Bring food...

and wine.

I will greet morning sun.

And what fortunes it carries.

Ha!

[driving percussive music, vocalizing]

Halt!

- Second position. -

- - Begin!

Watch footing, you fucking woman.

Watch tongue, you fucking cunt.

- - Logas!

Tarchon!

- - Use your mind!

Get him off!

- Yes! -

Doctore!

Form the men.

I would have words.

Attend.

You act as child

with shit running down your leg.

I act as my father would...

in his youth.

I should have never laid with your mother.

What... is beneath your feet?

Sacred ground watered with tears of blood.

No,

you simple fuck.

What lies beneath your feet is opportunity -

for coin,

and the respect such bounty presents.

And...

glory in the arena.

You stand but first crude brick laying foundation

to the rise of the House of Ashur!

To ascend, you must train absent mirth or breaking of laughter.

You must commit flesh to being forged into semblance

of the gods...

to honor the man

who brought down the mighty Spartacus himself.

You find issue in such thought?

Apologies, Dominus.

Break words, absent threat of reprisal.

Rumor bends ear.

Speak... and see it straightened.

That you

hurled spear at the bringer of rain

while his back was yet towards you.

Perhaps you think your dominus

unworthy

opponent.

Bring me gladius.

Dacus.

No.

I would see wood give way to steel.

Dominus strays from reason.

No.

He but corrects those beneath him.

Well?

- - Begin.

- -

Advantage of size means little when countered with skill

and mind

fleet of purpose.

- -

He shifts weight to right leg, signaling intent.

- -

Agh!

He gathers breath before assault.

Again, signaling intent.

Give way to emotions,

and fall upon the sands of the arena,

- presenting ass for fucking. -

That...

was Falernian.

- -

And I was deemed lowest among the Brotherhood

by most vexing doctore serving my own dominus, Batiatus.

Yet even the lowest of a gladiator

stands colossus

in regards to common men.

Grasp words to fucking breast...

or see heart torn from it.

Bury him where he lies so I may water grave

with pressing need of each morning's piss.

Grain delivery has been delayed.

Cilicians fell upon ship and transport.

I've instructed Messia to ration what we yet hold