Spartacus: House of Ashur

The goddess of death rises again.

Upon wings of your instruction.

Achillia honors this house

in fucking Primus!

- -

Can she fight?

By end of month.

Who stands above all others beyond Achillia?

There is but one.

Caesar maneuvers Pompey

towards alignment with himself and Crassus.

If they form triumvirate,

republic and all within will fall to severest concern.

I have been asked to consider marriage to Pompey.

He but marries towards power and position.

- What man does not? - The one before you.

My goddess.

I see how her eyes fall upon you.

And yours upon her.

And you would deny me the same comfort

that you seek with your whore?

And call me son no more.

-You are the past. -

-I forge my own future. -

- -

[rapid percussive music, vocalising]

It stands grievous loss

if such thing were allowed to happen.

Gabinius would not be offering

his fucking daughter to Pompey

if you had not interfered

in proposed coupling with Quintus Thermus.

Viridia is to be married to Pompey?

Remove yourself. Both of you.

Go!

You have undone everything

Crassus and my noble husband have worked towards.

There must stand a way to stop this.

Is it marriage to Pompey that so moves you

or thought of Viridia in the arms of another?

You stray from pressing concern.

As you stray from reason,

harboring desire towards one far beyond your station.

My desires do not change fact.

If Pompey is allowed to marry Viridia,

he will forever be aligned with Gabinius

and have his ear in the Senate,

swaying them to his will

against Crassus and your noble fucking husband.

I shall send message to Caesar informing him of your failure.

I suggest you mirror fucking effort in alerting Crassus.

I broke words with him before he faced the Scythian.

They were not kind.

There has never been father and son who have not shared such.

I would that I had fallen

in the arena in his place.

He would not wish it so.

Words broken in anger can never erase his love for you.

What is to be done with him?

He will be washed and wrapped in shroud,

then taken to funeral pyre.

I would see him cleansed by my hands alone.

So shall it be.

Doctore?

How do you move beyond it?

By keeping close those who remain.

- Who claimed his fucking life? - A Scythian.

She does not carry a name.

Celadus fell to a woman?

I stand unsure the creature could be called such.

If I had not fallen to altercation and injured hand,

she would be called towards fucking afterlife!

Such outcome far from certain.

The Scythian takes form unlike any I've ever laid eyes upon.

The bitch could stand colossus,

and I would yet see scales balanced

for what she's taken from me.

From you?

The boy has lost his father.

And I the only man in this fucking house I called friend.

Balm coming days with purpose towards forging more.

I must see him.

Tarchon prepares his father for funeral rites.

I am denied opportunity to break farewells?

Words last shared must hold for such.

We spoke of his son,

and rift formed between them because of me.

Disagreement seldom thrives but within single heart.

I moved to find resolution, for Celadus...

yet failed in attempt.

Tarchon yet lives.

Honor his father's memory

and see conflicts of the past abandoned.

I am your father, Tarchon,

you are my son.

I would see you

rise above all others.

Once again,

we feel the bitter sting of loss.

Warm embrace, so cherished,

torn from us too soon.

Yet let's move beyond the swell of sorrow

and fix eyes upon days ahead,

shadowed

and...

[melancholy choral music continues]

...uncertain

as they may present.

[poignant orchestral music swells]

- -

- -

- -

- -

- -

Achillia!

Wild cunt.

Evaporate.

Hand no longer troubles you?

Pain lingers, yet purpose is fucking restored.

Passing of days heals even the deepest of wounds.

- -

Not all wounds.

Pompey arrives in Capua?

To meet with Gabinius,

towards further discussion of union with Viridia.

What of Caesar?

- Does he accompany the consul? - He does.

And wishes to break fucking words with you.

Has there ever stood such a vision?

I do not feel as such.

No woman truly ever sees herself as the world does.

Yet...

gaze upon your reflection in eyes of loving mother,

and know

it is so.

Leave us.

This belonged to your grandmother.

Would that she yet drew breath to see you so elevated.

Tell me of him.

- Pompey? - Mm.

You are...

well versed

in military victories

and laurels showered upon him, as all Romans are.

Legend presents cold company.

I would know of the man.

He is disarming of smile and attitude,

yet oft,

upon occasion,

distant and...

cold.

As all men veer

upon time and mood.

Father does not stand so.

Opinion of your father

was formed through lens of beloved child.

Unclouded vision of wife

beholds all facets of...

complicated relationship.

Your words do not carry original passion