Spartacus

Come back!

Behind you!

l believe the man's dead.

Agron!

Supplies. Be quick.

Take anything of value.

Spartacus, you leave his cock to the sun?

No.

l send a message...

to an old friend.

Pompey was a fool

to engage Sertorius absent support.

When has Pompey ever delayed action

in favor of reason?

Advancing in years, yet ever the adolescent butcher.

Where youth plummets,

maturity may soar.

Rome will lose all of Hispania

if Pompey's numbers are not shored against the renegade.

And who would lead such a force to glorious accolade?

Freshly minted praetor, perhaps?

l serve the Republic, Marcus.

We will take arms against her enemies

if so commanded.

The embellished robes of a praetor not yet to wrinkle,

and yet he speaks of war and laurels.

l speak only of pressing matters.

We need not tread foreign soil to find them, do we, Varinius?

Not when Spartacus and his mongrels

continue to evade capture.

The man is no longer bound to my concerns.

More of young Seppius's men

were slaughtered on the road outside Capua.

He sends word to me that one of the fallen bore your name

carved into his chest.

An unfortunate tether.

Quickly to be severed.

Cossutius awaits my attentions.

Apologies to your daughter,

that l could not linger to gaze upon her.

Disappointment to be tempered

with promise of future visit, hmm?

Come. Let us break meal.

The consuls will present a motion

dispatching you to Capua at once.

This is a simple tumultus, Albinius,

undeserving the attentions of a praetor.

You brought the Thracian to Roman soil, Gaius.

You granted patronage

to that grinning shit Batiatus

a breath before his house fell to massacre,

a massacre my daughter barely fucking escaped!

Varinius lends his support to Seppius.

lf he's the one to bring Spartacus to justice,

then that victory will be used to embarrass you.

Attend to this,

or see yourself rise no further within the Senate.

Don't lower your sword.

Eight more Romans sent to the afterlife!

Peirastes!

Replace wood with steel for those who are ready.

Vitus, Pyrrhus, Lysandros,

divide these among you according to skill,

and ready the rest for demonstration.

l will kill many Romans.

Of that, l have no doubt.

Return to training.

Spartacus, we need food,

not more weapons.

Steel and coin are all they carried.

Whoo!

Oh, good. My fish supper.

Crixus's men fare better.

Rhaskos.

Where is Crixus?

He seeks Marcellus, the cunt peddler.

Your men have done well for themselves.

See everyone to equal portion.

Fuck!

Let the rabbits fend for themselves.

You have more than enough.

Gained by blood and risk.

What do they do but lay about?

Divide what you have.

l will not ask again.

Fucking Gauls.

Rhaskos is a selfish fool,

unable to see beyond his own desires.

No one will go hungry tonight.

That is all that matters.

And tomorrow?

Will bring death to yet more Romans.

l would see all of them struck down...

yet not at the cost of your life.

l have proven troublesome to kill.

There is no one that stands your equal.

Hmm.

Yet for those less skilled,

moving towards the mountains in the east

would be sorely welcome.

Game is plentiful there

and Roman numbers sparse.

lt would be wise.

Then why do we stay?

What holds us here,

so near Capua and the threat--

Spartacus.

l hear you wish to command my men.

No.

Simply to remind them of what is just.

You would have done the same, had you been present.

l shall have words with them.

They would be better received from your lips.

You were in town again.

You risk discovery.

l was not seen,

except by Marcellus,

and he will never speak of it.

Did his blood bear fruit?

A name.

Trebius.

The slaver?

He will point us towards her?

Marcellus revealed that he brokered deal of Naevia.

Where do we find him?

He frequents Capua upon each moon to trade his wares

and to wet his cock at Arminius's brothel.

News to lift the heart.

lt remains firmly bound until Naevia is back in my arms.

l will have those words now.

Crixus.

Have you had sight of Doctore?

The ludus was his life's blood.

To lay eyes upon those who have spilled it,

it would salt mortal wound.

You fight like a woman!

Fucking kill him!

A poor showing,

even for the lesser games of the Vulcanalia.

Apologies, Magistrate.

These were the best that could be procured.

The crowd demands spectacle, Mercato.

Hmm?

They must be distracted,

lest the city fall to ill temper and panic.

Gladiators and games

while Spartacus and his murdering horde roam free.

Your brother has the matter well in hand, Seppia.

Words of comfort

to the eight of his men slaughtered this morning.

Eight?

Yeah!

Apologies.

Pressing business conspired to delay me.

ls it true, Seppius?

Eight more of your men, fallen to Spartacus?

A thing of little note.

Spartacus will soon be brought to terms.

And our beloved cousin Sextus avenged.

Or you to join him,

leaving me woefully unattended.

What form of brother would l be

to abandon such cherished blood?

Would that Batiatus yet lived

to feel the sting of blame properly braced.

Spartacus and his shits will be put to grass soon enough.

l have already sent dispatch to Rome

for aid in the matter.

Perhaps you can secure better entertainment as well.

The current offerings bore beyond the telling.

No! No! No!

No! No! No! No!

A poor showing.

l have nothing of worth.

We seek only words.

l am absent them as well.

You were Batiatus's man, were you not?

You are mistaken.

No, l saw him

when he yet commanded the sands of the arena.

l was there in Pompeii the day he faced Theokoles

and barely lived to speak of it.

Oenomaus, he was called.

lt is fortunate you are not him.

The man stands accused of turning upon his dominus,

the reward for his capture a substantial sum,

toward Spartacus yet higher.

lf he were to be revealed,

a man such as you could...

continue not being himself.

As l said,

l have nothing of worth.

A lesser sum, then.

Apologies.

You are not Batiatus' man.

You should not be outside.

l wanted to see the moon.

Janus loves to gaze upon it.

Varro would hoist him upon his shoulders,

and he would stretch his hands out,