Spartacus: Gods of the Arena (2011): Season 1, Episode 5 - Reckoning - full transcript

Gaia's death strengthens Quintus Batiatus' resolve to get revenge against Tullius. The elder Batiatus invites Tullius to his home and is offered prime places in the forthcoming games, in ...


How did you get beyond the gates?

They are a weak thing
against such strong purpose.

You risk discovery.

I would risk everything for you.

We cannot do this.


We cannot.

You fucking whore.


Domina summons you.

I did not hear you calling.

Gather Gaia's belongings.

Titus would have them removed.

I know how close you held her.

It was an unfortunate accident.

She was taken from us too soon.

Yet blessed to count you as friend
while she was among us.

She was more than friend.

She was family.

Titus has ordered
Gaia's slave removed

and commanded that salt and spelt
be scattered...

decision and ritual,

to cleanse all trace of Gaia
from beneath his roof.

I asked Quintus
to speak to his father,

to not let Gaia be swept
so easily from memory.

But a wife's desires do not always
mirror those of her husband.

Then she must keep them hidden.

We will tell them ritual was performed
even in absence of the deed,

Naevia and Diona to attest
if questioned.


I am assaulted on all fronts.

Tullius spills blood
in our own house,

yet my father condemns
innocent son.

The blame is mine.

If only I had stayed a while longer.

You might have joined Gaia
in untimely end.

No, the fault rests
with Tullius alone.

Listen to them cheering
the final games of the old arena.

Yet here we stand,

as removed from them
as Gaia from this world,

courtesy again
of fucking Tullius.

It appears I will be making
appearance after all.

You gain invitation to the games?

At request of the magistrate...

a minor position,
the effort far exceeding the reward.

It stirs heart to know you are unscathed
from association with me.

Petronius seemed quite pleased
with your offerings.

Perhaps there is still opportunity
for you to gain placement

in the opening games
of the new arena.

Fuck the new arena.
Fuck Tullius. Fuck the fucking gods.

None of it matters now.
My father gives ultimatum.

Lucretia must no longer hold
title of wife.

- Titus dissolves your marriage?
- That would be a kindness.

He demands that I dissolve it
or find myself put to street with her.

Perhaps it best
if she were to find another husband.

I would sever cock from fucking body
than see her from my arms.

I would hold the same at first
in your position.

Yet it would crumble
to simple reason:

If you still intend to run the ludus,

what other choice remains?

Your friend...
he seems of a mood.

As would you,
if trusted brother

presented your ass to a Roman
for rough pleasure.

You speak of piss.

And your fortunes shrivel,
absent Dagan.

Much like his cock.


What do you make of Dagan?

Size and skill an advantage.

If dull wit can be honed,
he will prove asset.


Work the palus if you are able.

Schemes plotted while back is turned,
and there stand the results.

Apologies, Dominus.

You but did as commanded.

The burden lies with errant son,

cast adrift

upon churning sea of impropriety.

I would navigate this house

towards calmer waters,
your hands to aid me.

Speak and see them set to task.

A good count of these men
were acquired in my absence.

Arrange competition,
so that I may determine

true worth of all beneath my roof.

Our champion should be absent
such contest until recovery.

I hold no man champion
until proven so to my eyes.

Those who stand victorious
at ranking's end

will find honored position
within these walls.

Those who do not
will be sold to the mines.

Harsh reward for men
already bearing your mark.

I remain unconvinced
all here are deserving of it.

You are clear to your purpose?

Yes, Dominus.




- Where is Lucretia?
- I will fetch her, Dominus.

No, leave her where she is.
You may answer question.

Has salt and spelt been scattered?

Yes, Dominus.
We swept it from the villa.

A step towards proper path.

Should have let the bitch
tell her own lies.

Diona, lower voice.

So now you command me?
Will you decide who fucks me as well?

I did not mean...

Do not think you stand above me.

Cossutius could easily have chosen you,
had your cunt not been so loose.

Why would you say such things?

We have been as one
since we were children.

I count you dearest friend.

Friendship is a privilege,

one not deserving of a whore.

Come on, Rhaskos!

Gnaeus, Pollux,

take position.

- What is this?
- Oh yeah, fucking shit?

Contest to rank the men.

I'm gonna cut
your goddamn head off.

My decision yet to be given voice, and
you proceed as if I am already absent.

This house must be
turned to order

regardless of whether you happen
upon your senses.

Lucretia is my wife.

A word that should lift a man,

filling his life with ease and children.
She gives you neither.

You seek to tear heart from chest
and expect gratitude it no longer beats.

I seek only to call you son
absent shame in the title.

And I only ever wished
to make you proud, Father.

The rankings will be decided
at contest's end two days hence.

I will grant you equal time

to prove that you have moved
beyond past transgressions.

Dissolve your marriage

or call me father no more.

I bow and scrape,

eating his shit and thanking him
for the pleasure,

and this is reward...

to be turned from my home,
my husband?

You must make greater show.

Ply him with dutiful words.
See his cup always filled with wine.

To what end?
He's already made his decision.


He places it in my hands,

to prove that I am worthy
of being called his fucking son.

And what response have you given?

I have managed to delay
the presenting of it

until the men have been
ranked in contest.

I would have thought
your answer immediate.

Well, we need time to convince him
of your worth.

Is he the one that needs
convincing, Quintus?

I will not have that fucking tone.
I defend you at every turn.

And I have made every sacrifice.

I have borne every duty asked.

And yet here I stand on the brink.

What more can I do?
I've given you everything.

Except a child.

I speak without thinking.

No, you speak your heart.



The gods call you from our bed?

I seek their guidance.

Return to sleep.

I would only dream of you.

My own are filled
with troubling image...

the walls alive with secrets,

condemning those privy to them.

We have borne witness

to unfortunate events
removed from our hands.

Yet this is an honorable house,

one of deep history.

The gods must surely remember this.

You truly love this place.

My life held no meaning
before I was brought here.

This house is the foundation
upon which I was built.

I feel nothing
but the weight of its beams.

The burdens placed upon us

often overwhelm.

But it remains our duty to bear them.


Let us pray

and together see weight lifted.

Fuck him up!


Perhaps I should throw
the fucking tadpole back.

Gnaeus continues to gain
in skill as retiarius.

Soon he will ignite the crowd
as I promised.

Apologies for the hour of my rising.

Sleep came with difficulty last night.

Your absence was not noticed.

Yet the apology stands.

A noble gesture well-appreciated.

The mulsum more so.

Let me fill your cup.

Gnaeus... victor!

Duratius, Crixus,

take position.


Crixus appears of a form,
does he not?

He has proven a wise addition,

one Gaia favored from first sight.

Apologies. Tullius arrives.


- See him to my office.
- Dominus.

What is that man doing
in our house?

My house.

And he comes in response
to invitation.

Tullius should be hurled
from the fucking cliffs.

Instead my father takes knee
to swallow cock.

And you do nothing to stop him,
save lay blame where none should rest.

I am a fool in such regard, allowing
frustration to strip sense from tongue.

And spilling truth as consequence.

I would not hurt you.

Everything spins
from fucking control.

You desire a son of your own

to carry your name
and make you proud.

I would do anything
to give you such a treasure.

I must give him
my answer tomorrow.

It is too late for such dreams.

It is never too late
when will is set to purpose.

What would you have me do?

Whatever we must

to rid ourselves of this problem.

I recalled your fondness for mulsum.

Varus assures the vintage
to be his finest.

I am plied with honeyed wine
at every turn this day.

A simple gesture
to smooth edge from jagged events.


A woman is dead, Tullius...

a Roman woman, in my house.

You go too far.

I have come to make amends
with a gift.

You offer wine
to wash away blood?

I offer position

in the opening games
of the new arena.

Why would you do this?

In honor of history.

Capua has marveled
over many champions

from the House of Batiatus
over the years...

Hadrianus, Magnetius, Acerbitas

and countless others
forged by steady and sensible hand.

You flatter.

On many occasion, but not this one.

The storied victories
of your men

were a part of the old arena

as much as its wood and its sand.

Yet its final day passed
absent the House of Batiatus...

an unforgivable tragedy
caused by the actions of a foolish son.

He knows my mind
towards this regard.

Yet his actions do not stand alone
in deserving condemnation.

The past cannot be changed.

Let us turn eye towards horizon
of glories untold,

ones to be shared in together.

And what is it you seek

in return for such generosity?

The only thing I have ever sought...


My son believes the man a champion
above all others.

You are a reasonable man, Titus.

You always have been.

All I ask is that you consider
what is best for your house.

Enjoy the wine.

Domina calls for food and wine.


Pause a moment if you need.
I will say I could not find you.


My words...

I did not mean them.

I know.

Your friendship, your love...

it is constant reminder
of what I have lost.

I pray to the gods every night

that the next man I am
forced to lie with takes my life.



You are the victor.

I nearly had you.


Ashur, Dagan,

take position.


Good Tullius has taken his leave?

He has.

And what has he carried
from our house this time?


fucking victor.

Rest and tend wounds.

Tomorrow brings end of contest
and appropriate reckoning.

I would have words.

As would I.

Accompany me to town
and let us break them.


Once they have departed,

there's something I would ask of you.

I have felt your eyes lingering.

Yet they always turn away
when I meet them.

As should yours.

Then I must tear them out

if they are to obey such a command.

You must stop this.

I have vowed to
a thousand times a day,

to return to drink and whores,

forcing you from my mind.

Then I catch a glimpse of you

and my world ends.

I have never felt greater love

than when I hold my husband
in my arms.

Gannicus, what seizes you?

You drop guard,
allowing Barca advantage.

The man almost had you.

I was lost in a moment,
caught by a dream.

Then wake from it.

Leave us.

You are a Gaul, are you not?

Yes, Domina.

Many believe the seed of a Gaul
to rival that of Jupiter himself.

Tell me,

how many sons sprang
from your father's cock?

Five, Domina.

And from his father before him?

The same.

Your subligaria... remove it.

You are never to speak of this.

Do you understand, slave?

Yes, Domina.

Well, I would not look at you.

The sight turns stomach.

Enter me.

And do not cease
until you have spilled seed.

My very first memories

were formed within this arena,

attending the games as a child

upon my father's knee,

too young to yet form words.

Yet even then I knew

that I would give my life to this place.

A noble calling.


One I had dreamed you would share in.

Was I not raised here as well,
upon your knee?

You were.

I fear it is the one thing
we hold common now.

And you stand me at fault,
as you always have.

I stand you accountable
for your actions.

You have caused much heartache,

never heeding my words,

fighting me at every turn,

your ambition

the bolt hurled against my wishes.

And here is where it has led...

two men at constant odds,

mired in the ruins
of what might have been,

ruins I aided in creation.

I wanted you to join me here
to see them buried.

You are my son, Quintus,

and I will always love you,

no matter the path you take.

What moves such downpour
after eternal drought?

Tullius makes offer...

position in the opening games.

- At what price?
- Gannicus.

And your response?

Without meaning

if you are not by my side
upon the day's arrival.

You give me until tomorrow
and yet now press for answer?

A day, a year... a man either
knows his heart or he does not.

Stand with me

and we shall rise together, huh?

I will not turn from my wife.

You really did not want this life,
did you?

Well, whatever one
you find in this world,

I pray it brings you peace.


A memento

of days past.

I could not do it.

Sit beside me.

I had the instrument in hand.
His back was turned.

A simple motion

and our troubles forever removed.

But when the moment came,

he spoke to me with affection,
giving voice to sentiment.

I was wrong to push you
to such thoughts against him.

Some actions carry
too steep a price.

Even in refraining,
the ground beneath us pitches.

Tomorrow we must prepare
to leave this house.

You've given your answer?

The only one
my tongue could ever speak.

You honor me.

I attempt to gain the sun,

only to plunge into the depths,

while Tullius rides with Apollo,

bribing his way
with an amphora of mulsum

and promises to the air.

It does not matter.

We must leave this house

with nothing but our clothes,

a few possessions,

not even a slave to attend us.

We have lost everything.

Not everything.

The men have fought
with passion and honor...

a testament to your work
as doctore.

I but carry torch lit by more
deserving predecessor.

He would have been proud.

This house has seen many
champions, Oenomaus,

yet you stand tallest among them.

I have not the words, Dominus.

Those who do,

tend to weave them
to undeserved advantage, hmm?

Where do we stand
upon the rankings?

Eight men have yet to hold victory.

And one suffers grievous injury.

It pains to lose Dagan.

The Syrian had shown
much promise.

More so than Ashur.

Yet Dagan is now blind

to attack from the right...
a disadvantage in the arena.

Well, let us shift from the unfortunate
to the blessed.

Who holds the pinnacle?

Two men own equal victory...
Crixus and Gannicus.

They are to face each other
in the final contest.

Oh, Gannicus is removed
from contention.

I have sent word to Tullius
agreeing to terms of sale.

Sale to Tullius?

Well, he makes offer.

I had thoughts towards refusal,
but they have dimmed.

I would speak
towards reigniting them.

Strong words, Oenomaus.

Quintus has plied me with many
upon the subject.

He inflates Gannicus's worth
at great cost to this house.

Apologies, but in this
your son and I are in agreement.

None stand more worthy
to hold the title of champion.

You allow personal relation
to cloud judgment.

True, Gannicus is trusted friend.

Yet I speak from position
of doctore,

one but a moment ago
you sought to praise.

If I pull acceptance to Tullius,

we will be excluded
from future games.

We would be forced
to beg for matches

in the lesser venues
of Nola or Neapolis.

A heavy price, as is often that
of the honorable choice.

Let the gods
show us the way then.

If Gannicus proves himself
against Crixus, he shall remain.

Yet if he falls,
he shall leave this house

following the others
that have failed to honor it.


I am to be sold to fucking Tullius?

Only if you fall.

Clear mind.

Prove yourself
the man I know you to be.

Doctore, let us begin

and know who truly stands
champion of this house.

Crixus, Gannicus,

take position.

A second chance
to prove myself against you.

The gods have heard
my prayers.

And they curse you
in the answering.


Get him! Yeah!


we're near ready to leave.

Pause a moment
and see contest ended.

Finish preparations.

Crixus again shows form.

As does Gannicus.

Both men you have often praised.

Perhaps you have
learned something

after all these years.


You have lost sense.

All attention is upon the match.

No one will notice your absence
for many hours.

- They will brand me fugitivus.
- They will not find you.

Buy passage far from Capua

and the things
that have been done to you.

- Where did you get this?
- Spirited from Gaia's things.

They will not be missed.

You fade with each day.

Do not make me bear witness
to your passing.

Come with me.

I attend Domina.
My absence would be noticed.

Go before contest is ended.

I will see you again one day.

I swear to you.


A match for the ages.

I shall miss this.



Crixus... victor.

Why did you drop your guard?

You are champion now.

That is all that matters.

I would not thought it possible.

To be said
of many things this day.

Quintus, it's not too late.


Fetch the medicus.

Your father burns high fever...

a worrisome condition
for a man of his years.

Well, is there nothing to be done?

I have not the herbs.

And the hour is late for us
to procure them.

Go. I'll watch over him.

I'll pound on every door in Capua
until we have what is needed.

- And I would aid in the effort.
- And be welcome for it. Come.

Keep him still until we return.

A little wine, if seized by fit.


Move Tullius's wine from sight.

Apologies, Domina.

I would have permission
to see Gannicus.

You ask this now?

I know he is to be sold tomorrow.

I would have final words
before he departs.

I would share drink

with an old friend.

Is that all that I am...

a friend?


I do not care for honey in my wine.

It serves only to mask bitter taste.

A blessing in such moments.

You are to be sold to Tullius.

Oenomaus warned of it,

should I fall to Crixus.

You let Crixus win.

Why would you do such a thing?

Because I cannot stay
within these walls,

to gaze upon you every day

and be denied your touch.

I have never turned from challenge,

yet I am without strength
to face this one.

Then it is for the best.

Because despite my words,

I stand as weak.

I want no wine.

Medicus gave order.



It should help you rest.

My son

gives up everything for you.

As I for him.

You truly love him?

With all my heart.

He is never happier

than when he is by your side.

Tell me I have been mistaken
about you.

Tell me you are not the serpent
I have thought you to be.

I am not.

I'm far worse.

I never cared
what you thought of me,

my lack of breeding,
my absence of family

or a name of worth.
These things I cannot deny.

But how low you considered
your son...

a man I love more than life itself...

that could not be tolerated.

So I began poisoning
your beloved honey wine.

My intent not to rob you of life,

only to mimic illness.

A cough,
increasing in its discomfort,

easily blamed
on Capua's dust and heat.

It brought much joy
when you departed

for the wet shores of Sicilia.

And Quintus...
how he flourished

when removed
from overbearing shadow.

And then you returned

to torture him,
as you did all those years.

So I began bringing you
your honeyed wine again,

to force you back to Sicilia.

Yet it was not enough.

You were not moved
despite ailing health.


A more permanent solution
was required between us,

one that I added to Tullius's gift.

Quintus will not forgive Tullius this.

He will strike in your name.

And Gaia's death will be avenged.

Breathe. Breathe.


You curse this house.

No, Father.

I elevate it.

Breathe. Melitta.

Melitta, breathe.

Melitta, breathe!




The wine.

It was the wine.

Take her.

Oenomaus must not know
she came to your cell.

She was never with you.

Return to the ludus.