ROME: Season 1 Episode 07 Pharsalus
* This battle takes place on the 6th of June 48 b.C. So there've been 4 years since Vercingetorix' surrender (episode 1) And more than 3 years since Caesar crossed the Rubicon (episode 2).
Perhaps if we retreat to the coast
via Thessaly*,
* Big region at the North of the Greece.
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.
* One of the charges in the cursus honorum. Last one before being consul.
If Torquatus is given high office,
then Varro* must be given same,
* Marcus Terentius Varron (116-27 B.C.). Very fecond writer and Pompey's lieutenant in Spain.
Else we'll see no end of trouble.
But then what do we give Labienus*?
* Caesar's main lieutenant during the war of the Gauls. He deserts though his side at the very beginning of the civile war but will never have any heavy responsabilities once with Pompey.
- Macedonia? - Bithynia*.
* Ancient province in the northwest of Asia Minor, adjoining the Propontis, the Bosporus and the Euxine (today Black Sea).
Macedonia to Libo.
Plums for your people
and porridge for the rest, eh?
Macedonia and Bythnia 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 2000 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 as was my father too.
I feel for you. When do we strike?
Strike? We have already struck.
We have him down,
but he is not dead yet, eh?
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 honorable?
- Caesar has driven us from Rome,
chased us out of Italy, killed our friends,
usurped our republic.
Surely, dignity and honor demands we walk in his blood.
Certainly, knee-deep.
But 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.
Conquer and crush 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 half wits and clowns!
- Dear me. - Caesar will soon be dead
by every account, 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 that they can guard our doors in her name, silly.
I mean why must I go?
Well, as if I would go begging to Servilia.
I think not.
I'll not go begging for you.
Don't be so 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.
- She said something. - She said nothing.
You're very arrogant, that's all.
Think you can buy her friendship with stud slaves and tortoises?
And six barrels of ice.
I would rather not go.
You would rather not go.
You would rather be gang-raped by slavering proles
while your mother's house burns down around you.
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,
but 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 can 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 am 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 has 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 favor.
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 mu... I must look affright.
No, not really.
You look lovely.
I 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!
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.
Caesar! Caesar! Caesar!
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! ...and prevail.
But 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. Dear gods,
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 honor?
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 the re...
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 Amphipolis*.
* Modern Amfipoli, in Macedonia.
I have men and money there,
and 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?
There must be millions of them.
Must be.
She won't recognize me, probably.
I was very young when she died.
Probably give her a big scare though?
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 aether inflates him.
What of it?
You've not been drinking seawater, have you?!
- Husband, eat. - Yeah.
Over here, my dear.
Here.
- Little salty. - Not at all. It's good, neh?
Delicious, mama.
Bona dea, look at your faces.
Sillies.
Helen?
Helen!
Husband, wake up! Our people are leaving.
Now 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 Amphipolis.
You, your name again?
- Lysandros. - Lysandros, how far to Amphipolis?
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?
Mella.
- Aeneas Mella. - 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
et ample coin in Amphipolis.
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.
Well, stop it then.
Servilia sends to invite you to weave with her tomorrow.
I cannot.
Of course 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! 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 Amphipolis 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. 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 are 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.
* Milan, in northern Italy.
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 and 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...
I am come here honorably,
with no request for mercy,
to surrender my arms
and my horses as is...
We'll have no talk of surrender.
We've merely quarreled a little.
Now we are friends again, eh?
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.
It is I am sorry.
I presented you with an impossible dilemma.
You did only what you thought honorable,
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...
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* the 12th
* "Auletes" means "fluteplayer" in Greek. People from Alexandria gave him this ridiculous nickname cause he loved parties and shew himself off as fluteplayer among the female dancers.
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.
Hello, friends.
Feeling better, neh? Strong?
Strong enough.
Tell me something. What's the name of that Roman?
His name is...
Aeneas Mella.
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 is he talking about?
You boys are clever fellows, 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, eh?
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 to me on such short acquaintance.
- What is your name? - I am Lucius Vorenus.
Prefect of the evocati of the 13th legion of Gaius Julius Caesar.
Titus Pullo, legionary of same.
Salve*, Lucius Vorenus.
* Salve = expression of greeting
I am...
Aeneas Mella...
of Pergamum.
Aeneas Mella.
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?
* 1 Roman mile = 1481,50 meters 25 Roman miles = around 37 km (23 miles)
- Nearer 30. - 30?
* 30 Roman miles = 44 km (around 27,6 miles)
- How many men did you have? - 60000.
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...
in...
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 favor
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. 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* knows what...
* Name of Pluto, god of the Underworld.
'Sist!
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 5000.
You're being kept alive
- for some great purpose, no doubt. - Ah, well,
you know, sir...
- He has some interesting news. - Indeed?
Sir, in course of our journey here, we encountered
Gnaeus Pompey Magnus with his family, and a party of servants.
Where?
On the road to Amphipolis, 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?
* Big region in the South of the Germany, in Central Europe (modern Romania and Moldava)
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 Gyppoes, sir.
I know, sir. It's not the fourth by no means.
A man's got to earn his salt though, eh?
Sure 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.