Rome (2005–2007): Season 1, Episode 7 - Pharsalus - full transcript

Perhaps if we retreat to the coast via Thessaly,
we could hold out until the rains come.

If we go eastward,
they'll be able to cut us off here.

Of course.

It will not do.

Ready.

Maps never redraw themselves,
if that's what you're waiting for.

He's right. We shall just have to fight
the wretches here where we stand.

And beat them.

We shall crush them, doubtless.

Dinner for worms, the whole damn lot of 'em.

Dinner for worms.



Try to avoid bloodshed this time.

Wait a while
and Pompey can shave you instead.

Torquatus should have something, no?
A praetorship perhaps.

If Torquatus is given high office, Varro must
be given the same, else we'll see trouble.

But then what do we give Labienus?

- Macedonia?
- Bithynia. Macedonia to Libo.

Plums for your people
and porridge for the rest, eh?

Macedonia and Bithynia
are not yet ours to bestow.

You are cooking rabbits
that have not been caught.

Our particular rabbit is cornered,
starving and has lost near 2,000 men.

I think we may safely say
that here is a rabbit ready for the pot.

- Why so melancholy, Brutus?
- Do I seem so?

Forgive me.

No, Caesar's defeat is a glory.



We cannot endure tyrants
but I cannot celebrate it.

He was as my father to me.

I feel for you. When do we strike?

Strike? We've already struck.

We have him down but he's not dead yet.

- When do we strike the final blow?
- There will not be one.

If we simply keep him bottled up
a month or so more,

the remains of his army
will disintegrate and disappear.

- At no cost to us.
- Is that honourable?

Caesar has driven us from Rome,
chased us out of Italy, killed our friends,

usurped our Republic.

Surely, dignity and honour demands
we walk in his blood.

- Certainly, knee deep.
- You would have hunger do our work for us!

We must attack Caesar and kill him under
the eyes of Mars, else our victory is empty.

He has sense.
It will look better at home if we win by force.

You are Pompey Magnus.

You conquer and crush your enemies
as if they were insects.

People will be disappointed by anything less.

News from Greece!

Mark Antony is safe
but most of the ships in his fleet,

sent in aid of Gaius Julius Caesar,
have been lost at sea.

Caesar is now surrounded
and severely outnumbered.

The forces of the Republic and Senate
and of Pompey Magnus confidently expect

a decisive victory to follow shortly.

- There you are.
- Here I am.

I ask Timon for protection and he sends me
a bunch of halfwits and clowns!

Dear me.

Caesar will soon be dead
and we shall be undefended.

We may as well be lying naked in the street!

You must go to Servilia and ask for
a few of her men to stand outside for us.

Why?

- So they can guard our doors in her name.
- I mean, why must I go?

As if I would go begging to Servilia.

- I think not.
- I'll not go begging for you.

- Don't be childish. It's not as if she'll refuse.
- You think?

Why would she? Those lovely gifts I gave her?

- What did she say?
- Nothing.

- Nothing.
- She said something.

She said nothing.

You're very arrogant. Think you can buy
her friendship with stud slaves and tortoises?

- And six barrels of ice.
- I'd rather not go.

You'd rather not go.

You'd rather be gang-raped by proles
while the house burns down.

Frankly, I'm past caring.

One day Caesar is winning
and you crow happily,

next day he is losing and I must go a-begging?

I just want this vile war to be over,
one way or the other.

Octavia, it is over.
That is why you must go to Servilia's house.

It's a bore, I know. There we are.

Lyde.

Very nice.

Don't.

I'm glad to see you.
I've been worried about you.

No need. I'm doing very well.

Not as well as you, obviously.

Do you need money?

I've got money if you need some.

I'm sure you have.
Turns out your man backed the right horse.

Fortune loves you.

I don't know if Vorenus is alive or dead.

I'm sorry.

I didn't want to be like this.

I'm so tired, Niobe.

I'm tired of being angry.

I'm tired of hating you.

You're all I've got.

I'm sorry.

Do you want some honey water?

You're wasting your time!

We'll die of thirst long before we die of hunger.

- We could drink their blood.
- Repeat?

All these dead men, we could drink their blood.

Too salty.

Only make you more thirsty.

Putrid by now anyway.

Doesn't matter.

Everything will be fine.

This is where we die.

What are you writing?

A message to Niobe.

All right. Good idea.

Send my best to Eirene,
will you, while you're at it?

If there's space.

Graces, don't we look lovely?

If I'm to be a beggar, I will not look like one.

I am not objecting, my honey,

though you will remind Servilia
of what an old trout she's become.

I'm just happy to see you
looking so pretty for once.

You do so often insist on playing the frump.

- I hope your mother thrives.
- She does.

- And your son?
- Also.

My mother sends me to ask a favour.

She fears the consequences
of this last battle in Greece.

Understandably.

She has enjoyed
her ascendancy a little too well.

She asks you to lend her some men
to protect our door in your name.

Of course.

Eleni, send Ajax and three or four others.

- Whoever he thinks best.
- Thank you.

It's very kind of you.

- I told my mother she should not presume...
- Please.

She shall have what she needs.

Forgive me. You are so good to us.

- We do not deserve it.
- Don't.

I must look a fright.

Not really.

You look lovely.

I'd better go home.

- So soon?
- My mother will be worried.

Well, if you feel you should.

Octavia...

Thank you.

Send to Rome.

Tell them...

the decisive battle begins today.

Sir! Pompey's legions
are in the field in battle array!

Thank you, Fulvio.
Have you forgotten how to salute?

I haven't, sir. No excuse, sir.

Gracchus, sound assembly!

- Have Xeno saddle my horse.
- Sir!

Sound assembly!

- We will accept battle?
- Certainly. Why not?

We are outnumbered three to one on foot
and five to one ahorse.

What uninjured men we have
are scared and hungry and desperate.

That is the advantage we must press home.

I was not aware irony had military usage.

We must win or die.

Pompey's men have other options.

Goodbye, Posca.

Send to Rome. Tell them Caesar has won.

Sir! Caesar's men are coming!

I've cut my hand.

We have to go, sir! They'll catch you.

It's not deep but it hurts.

They will kill you!

It's of no consequence.

Our forces are routed. What are we to do?

We shall fight again another day,
I do not doubt.

And prevail.

- For the present, we must look to our safety.
- Our safety is nothing.

We must leave Greece
and look to fresh levies.

- And may one ask where?
- Africa.

- We must rally the cities of Africa.
- Africa.

- We are fast running out of continents.
- And coin!

We have taxed every last coin
from Greece and spent it all.

What shall we use to buy Africa's loyalty?

- Seashells?
- We need buy nothing!

- We are the Senate of Rome!
- We are old men with mud on our shoes!

We are not beaten until we are dead.

- The Republic lives as long as we do!
- You may fight on as you wish.

As for me, I will go from here
and surrender myself to Caesar.

Have you no dignity? No honour?

Some little, I hope.

Not so much as you, of course.

- Caesar will kill you.
- That may be.

I'm not afraid to die.

I'm tired.

I want to go home.

Yes. My feelings exact.

Brutus, without the force of your name,
the cause of...

Do not! Do not talk to me of the Republic.

If I had known what wretched company
and rotten food I would endure,

if I had known what an old fool is Pompey,
I would never have left Rome.

Forgive my anger.

- I am not myself.
- Think nothing of it.

I merit your disappointment.

I propose we make for Amphipoli.

I have men and money there.
We can go by sea to Egypt.

Ptolemy's children are loyal friends of mine.

Perhaps...

Perhaps it's better we do not travel together.

Perhaps you're right.

Better.

No doubt.

I don't understand it.
Something should have turned up by now.

I'm not meant to die this way.

- You were misinformed.
- Doesn't seem right.

Still...it'd be good to see my mother again.

Do you think they have
a system for finding people?

What?

In the afterlife, how do you
go about finding people?

- There must be millions of them.
- There must be.

She won't recognise me, probably.

I was very young when she died.

Probably give her a big scare though, huh?

Big, ugly brute coming along
and giving her a hug.

- Look at that.
- What?

That corpse.
See how high it rides in the water?

The plutonic ether inflates him.

What of it?

You've not been drinking seawater, have you?

- Husband, eat.
- Oh, yeah.

- Little salty.
- Not at all. It's good.

Delicious, Mama.

Bona Dea, look at your faces.

Sillies.

Helen!

Husband, wake up! Our people are leaving.

Now, my darlings. Don't be scared.
We're on an adventure, eh?

The first one to see the sea and cry out
will have a peach when we get to Amphipoli.

You, your name again?

- Lysandros.
- Lysandros, how far to Amphipoli?

Very close. Close.

We will continue there as planned.

You're not to announce my identity
to those that we meet.

And if they ask?

Mela.

- Aeneas Mela.
- Hear and obey, Captain.

- And who'll pay?
- Pay? You've been paid already.

For guiding, not for protection.

I have many men and supplies
and ample coin in Amphipoli.

- You will be paid there.
- None with you now? Coin?

None! I'll tolerate no more of your impudence!

No disrespect, Captain. Only asking.

We go.

You drive me insane
with your wretched muttering.

What is wrong that you must
harass the gods so?

- Nothing.
- Stop it then.

Servilia sends to invite you
to weave with her tomorrow.

- I cannot.
- You can. I've already accepted.

- I cannot!
- I know she's tedious.

I mean really, weaving.

But we must keep her happy for the time being.

But...

The sea!

Unison. You shall both have a peach.

Look, Mama. Dead people.

It's good, huh?

Where do you come from?

- Brindisi.
- Romans?

I know you. Where do I know you from?

- I have not seen you before.
- I'm sure I've seen you somewhere.

Leave them water and bread,
we need to be going.

- Leave them? Weak as they are?
- I have no time to waste.

Soon be dark anyhow. We camp here,
get to Amphipoli in the morning.

- I insist we go on.
- Relax, old man.

We get there.

You rest easy now, boys.
Eat, drink, get your strength back.

You and me will be good friends.

You want my cock up you,
or are you going to build a damn fire?

I told you we'd be all right.

There's no pleasing some.

We stop here? Why so early?

Best to, I think. It'll be dark soon.

- Who are they?
- How should I know?

Who cares who they are?

Sorry. I...

All will be well, I assure you.

All will be well.

Pompey Magnus.
That man looks exactly like Pompey Magnus.

That's why I thought I'd met him.

Don't point.

- Never.
- It's hard to believe, eh?

His wife and sprouts too.

Caesar's going to drown us in gold.
Thank you.

Cack!

What do we do?

I don't know yet.

Thank you for coming.

Mother insisted. I understand you want me
to do some weaving with you.

I'm sorry you were upset.

The last time we saw each other.

It's of no consequence.

Are you fond of weaving?

So did I.

And how is your brother?

- Is he still in Mediolanum?
- He is.

- Lovely town, so I'm told. Healthy air.
- Domina?

What is it, Eleni?

Word from Greece.

Caesar has won.

And Pompey's armies
are completely destroyed.

And my son?

No word.

Don't cry.

Halt! In the name of Rome!

Calls himself Rome now, does he? Shameless.

Who are you? What's your purpose?

We are Rome, boy, what's left of it.

Come to surrender to your chief.

Brutus! Cicero!

How happy I am to see you.

I thought you were dead.

Sir, I am come here honourably,
with no request for mercy,

to surrender my arms and my horses as is...

We'll have no talk of surrender.

We've merely quarrelled a little.
Now we are friends again?

That is most generous of you and natural
to your manly nature but I cannot...

- My poor boy.
- I'm sorry. I am so sorry.

Not at all. It is I am sorry.
I presented you with an impossible dilemma.

You did only what
you thought honourable, I'm sure.

I kiss you for it.

Thank you. I will not forget this grace.

- As I was saying, a most generous...
- But what of Pompey?

Tell me he lives.

- He lives.
- Thank the gods. Where is he?

He...

He does not plan to surrender.

That is insane.
He cannot escape. Where can he go?

Is Scipio with him? Cato?

They have fled to Africa.

What am I thinking of,

asking you questions
when you must be so hungry and thirsty?

Come.

- I think I would rather...
- I insist.

Come.

So with this hand, otherwise engaged,
I had to take that worm

and beat him with my fists
over and over and over again!

His father, King Ptolemy Auletes XII,
was a close friend of mine.

I was always assured
a loving welcome in Egypt.

I remember, on one occasion
I was out hunting with the King.

We were hunting lions, you see.

Only the King was rather a poor bowman

and we couldn't tell
if the lion was wounded or dead,

so, we sneaked up on the lion, keeping both...

Hello, friends.

Feeling better? Strong?

Strong enough.

Tell me something.
What's the name of that Roman?

His name is...

Aeneas Mela.

- Aeneas Mela?
- That's what he said.

What do you hear of Caesar and Pompey?

They fought, I heard.

And?

You know who won.

Tell us.

I was going to let you in anyway.

- What's he talking about?
- You boys are clever felloes, I bet.

Know how to fight.

Me and my boys can't take his people alone.

Us and you together, no problem.

We go down middle on the reward.

- Not a bad idea.
- You can have the wife and children.

I take the slaves.

Walk away and do not speak of this again.

I see. Think you don't need me?
Think you can keep the reward for yourself?

- Fuck you. Not going to happen.
- Don't.

Fuck you! I gave you your lives back,
I can take them away again, easy.

When I am finished speaking,
you will turn and run that way.

That way? What about this way?

Do not stop until you are out of my sight
and do not delay, or I will kill you.

- What is wrong with him?
- I am finished speaking.

A bit harsh, isn't it?

Fair enough deal he was offering, I thought.

- What is the meaning of this?
- Sir...

Speak up! This man was in my employ!

- He planned to assault you.
- How do you know?

He asked us to participate.

You refused, stabbed him
to death on my behalf.

A good friend on such short acquaintance.

- What is your name?
- I am Lucius Vorenus.

Prefect in evocati
of the 13th Legion of Gaius Julius Caesar.

Titus Pullo, legionary of same.

Salve, Lucius Vorenus.

I am...Aeneas Mela...of Pergamum.

Aeneas Mela.

You must consider yourself under my charge.

I do not understand.

Consider yourself
a prisoner of the 13th Legion.

- I'm just a merchant.
- We know who you are, sir.

I own you now! Understand?
You, you, bury him.

The rest of you...don't let them leave.

Lucius Vorenus, I must speak with you alone.

Stay here.

Of course I do not say I am who you think I am

but I have spent some years in the army.

Perhaps we met on some campaign or other.

Perhaps that's why I seem familiar.

Perhaps.

- I recall the 13th was at Alesia.
- We were.

There's a battle I've always
wished to have seen.

25 miles of works, wasn't it?

- Nearer 30.
- 30?

- How many men did you have?
- 60,000.

Against almost double the Gauls.

At least double.
The best men of every tribe in Gaul.

Caesar can fight. I'll give him that.

I remember...when he was
not much older than you.

I sent him to winter quarters in...

Now, where was it?

No matter.

Long time gone.

I must ask you, sir, if I may,
how did you come to this road?

Surely Pompey had Caesar
at greater disadvantage.

He did.

It didn't seem possible to lose.

That's always a bad sign.

The battlefield was on a plain

by a river at the foot of some low hills.

Like this, you see.

The lines met here.

My men held their ground well,
so I sent my horses at his right flank.

- Which is perfectly correct, you'll agree.
- I do.

Only the cowards were repulsed.
Repulsed by a single cohort of reserves.

Turned and fled, 200 horses.

Crashed directly into my left flank.

Rolled up my line like a carpet.

Put the whole damned army to flight.

And here I am.

That's how Pompey Magnus was defeated.

That's how the Republic died.

- Good night, sir.
- Wait.

I will not...

I will not ask favour or mercy for myself.

But I beg you, consider the fate...

of my wife and children.

Let me take them to Egypt
where they will be safe...

among friends.

Consider them.

Go back to sleep.

Unwise and unfriendly, I call it.

Unwise and unfriendly.

And for why? Why?

We had him.

Horses. Never mind horses.

Never mind gold.

Caesar would have given us farms

and fields and orchards
and great flocks of slaves

and cattle and Dis knoes what...

Desist! Pompey Magnus is
no damn slave to be sold for money.

- Don't see why not!
- There's a great deal you don't see.

There's a great deal he doesn't see neither.

You and only 12 other men
survived that storm.

Out of 5,000.

You're being kept alive
for some great purpose, no doubt.

Well. You know, sir...

- He has some interesting nees.
- Indeed?

On ourjourney here,
we encountered Gnaeus Pompey Magnus

with his family and a party of servants.

- Where?
- The road to Amphipoli, with a mule train.

A mule train. It's priceless.

He intends to take ship for Egypt, sir.

Family and servants, you say.

- No soldiers?
- None, sir.

Not one man left, not one. Poor wretch.

Why then, be that so,
did you not apprehend him?

Now, here's the onion.

I thought it would be wrong to do so.

Explain yourself.

His hands trembled, sir, his clothes were dirty,

there was water in his eyes, he is broken.

I saw no need to apprehend him.

I'd like to add that Legionary Pullo
took no part in my decision, sir.

You saw no need...

Do you not see that Pompey may be broken

like a Dacian catamite and still be dangerous?

If he is still living, he will be a standard
around which our enemies will gather!

As long as he can be propped
on a horse, he's dangerous!

- But you saw no need to apprehend him?
- I did not, sir.

Who by the sons of Dis gives you
the right to make such judgment?

Sir, I am aware that I have not done my duty
and I respectfully ask your pardon.

My pardon, he asks.

I ought to have you scourged and crucified.

In future you will remember
that it is I that offers mercy. No one else.

- Clear?
- Clear, sir.

Dismissed.

I do not like to disagree with you
but you are being far too lenient with him.

He let Pompey go and you let him live?

The man should be made an example of!

Any other man, certainly.

But those two, they found my stolen standard.

Now they survive a wreck
that drowned an army

and find Pompey Magnus on a beach.

They have powerful gods on their side

and I will not kill any man
with friends of that sort.

Posca.

Tell Fulvio to start breaking camp.

We're going to Egypt.

General Pompey, sir.

Remember me? Lucius Septimius.

Centurion Septimius, as was.

I was with you in Spain.
Fourth Legion, third cohort.

Lucius Septimius, of course.

What are you doing here, of all places?

Working for the gippoes, sir.

I know, sir. It's not the Fourth by no means.

- A man's got to earn his salt...
- True enough.

What's all this then, soldier?

Not much of a welcome party.

You know Egyptians, sir,
it's just their way. Funny people.

That they are. Well...onward, friend.

I'm sorry, sir.