Spartacus: House of Ashur

You stand not yourself.

Argh!

It lifts spirits to see you rise again.

Tarchon assumes mantle

until such time you are able to reclaim it.

I would take up fucking spear.

What fucking hand laid marks upon you?

The fat one.

Petition for seat towards very front next I fight.

And I will give him spectacle not soon forgotten.

I would have my name upon your lips.

Ashur!

And know that my heart is yours.

You tainted fucking wine?

Opiter's holdings fall to the house of Proculus.

The fate Opiter feared.

He feared Cilician assault?

- No. - Whose, then?

One I would enlist aid in holding to deserved account.

- Why reveal the Syrian's plan? - A loathsome creature,

eyes slithering across my daughter.

I would see him to quick and unfortunate end.

But how best to rid ourselves of such annoyance?

I will send counterfeit message,

confirming meeting in place far removed from view.

I shall see the matter properly attended.

It shall not be the cries of Ashur

that fill the air this night.

Fucking cunt!

Argh!

Argh!

Carry a message to your master.

I would not have let him live.

I would reclaim title.

Doctore.

Summon your dominus!

Aedile.

You grace us with unexpected presence.

Let us see pleasantries abandoned

and come to blunt words.

Proculus asserts grievous loss at your hands

and seeks appropriate redress.

Demands upon position must exceed reason,

to find you in such low fellowship

at early hour, Uvidus.

Do more lanistae convene?

Shall I send for wine and olives?

I merely request Opiter's medicus,

purchased with his holdings at auction.

Such could have been satisfied

absent need to rouse esteemed Aedile.

I thought it prudent to make request among proper company.

Ah.

We stand in agreement, then.

I leave you to your duties, such as they may require.

- Well, Syrian? - I shall see the man produced.

Satyrus will secure him from your ludus.

You would have me descend there? Alone?

See troubled mind set to ease, little one.

I shall see you escorted by trusted doctore.

Where are their bodies?

My brothers stood gladiators

and deserve the honor of funeral rites!

They shall not have them,

nor you the opportunity to break farewells.

Why stay hand from my blood as well?

To deliver message to your fucking master, as I said.

Claiming life would have sent the same.

[ominous music)

It is a terrible thing, is it not?

To have those held to heart ripped from it.

Suffer, little man.

Until the gods drag you to the afterlife.

That seeping cunt!

Bringing fucking aediles and guards to bear.

Perhaps wise precaution, considering passions aroused.

Tongue wags absent fucking thought.

Apologies.

Word of this will reach ear of Gabinius,

weighing scale already tipped to disfavor

in wake of embarrassment at auction.

You will find means to balance them again towards your favor,

as you always have and always shall.

Does faith ever waver towards me?

Cause has yet to be given.

I would keep sentiment close,

to brace coming days.

We stand, once again, in need...

of a medicus.

I will send word throughout Capua in attempt to secure one,

in advance of further injuries.

Strike with spear, not fucking jaw!

Your little stick falls short of purpose.

Again!

Hold!

I would see title of doctore restored.

Well, the gods rejoice...

to see you again of a form,

old friend.

Fall to position, you sentimental shit.

And see return to glory upon the sands.

Doctore.

Attend!

Achillia crawls back to us

from the depths of the underworld.

And your dominus blesses her once more

with mantle of champion.

The bitch returns.

Celadus, pair with the champion.

Doctore.

The goddess of death rises again.

Upon wings of your instruction.

Begin!

Perhaps it would be prudent

to remove ourselves from the streets.

You fear renewed assault by the Cilicians?

No.

City guards but conjure thought

towards reason of increased presence.

The loss of dearest friend.

As you once counselled me

to face the darkness of this world together,

know that I offer same.

I am undeserving of such a child.

Apologies. Do I intrude upon tender moment?

Proculus.

In the flesh, warm with life.

Viridia, return to villa.

I would break words with Proculus

concerning acquisition of a few of Opiter's trifles.

Might I be of some small aid?

Well, I would not refuse such glorious company.

See her to escort. I will join you presently.

May the gods favor your dealings.

Such a beautiful, ripe child.

I did not expect to find myself

downwind of you this day, lanista.

I am yet of this world.

Yet, deep wound

has been inflicted upon poor Satyrus...

in form of beloved brothers put to grass,

in addition to several valued men.

How unfortunate.

More so for those who move against me,

absent thought of retribution.

You forget who stands my fucking husband.

Memory holds of the man towering over Capua

lo these many, many years.

I pray he clings to the ones left to him,

for fear of what may befall wife

and cherished daughter upon his passing.

You attempt to cower with veiled threat?

I attempt nothing, save idle conversation.

Know this, lanista - the woman before you

does not shrink at thought of blood upon her fucking hands.

Perhaps you shall...

when it is your own.

Husband.

I would break words towards decision made in error.

Whatever the infraction, consider it forgiven,

in favor of more vital concerns.

It-it is not a matter of forgiveness.

I do not stand of fucking mind to hear it upon the moment!

What so consumes you to bare teeth towards loving wife?

Apologies.

Response arrives at last from Pompey,

towards Cilician incursion.

"I am otherwise engaged...

"with Caesar."

- What other words did he break? - That is the sum of them.

Crassus dispatches his vagrant sword to cleave alliance,

whilst his army marshals at the gates of Rome.

The man stands tyrant in the forming,

with Caesar stitched of equal thread of ambition.

If you feel such, why did you concede to Caesar's demands,

while he was yet within Capua?

Crassus, Pompey and Caesar each maneuver towards power

currently beyond reach.

We must tread every path presented

towards peaceful resolution

or see beloved republic devoured by ravenous appetites.

Knot of Pompey's bond loosens by day and hour.

Should he unravel towards cause of Crassus and Caesar,

confederation formed would be crushing blow.

Well, you state but the fucking obvious.

And draw towards obvious conclusion.

Pompey's allegiance must be moved toward advantage

and desire.

I have attempted all

to tether the man towards greater fucking purpose.

Not all.

How turn your thoughts, woman?

Marriage would seal him towards your cause.

You propose union

with our daughter?

Have you swam in fucking wine in advance of entry,

sinking towards murky bottom?

I but seek elegant solution

to myriad difficulties presenting themselves.

And to ensure Viridia is secure in her future