Quo Vadis Page #4

Ha-ha.

Come closer.

Iook, they march as they fight.

Strong, brave, relentless.

Our unconquerable children.

We must take them to our breast.

Yes, my lord.

Well.

The hero at last.

You know, Marcus, usually one

is embarrassed by one's relatives...

...but today I was proud of you.

Hot work in that sun. A hippodrome.

The emperor positively adores you.

He called you his brave, relentless child.

If you play your hand well, you can have

a military governorship. Egypt, perhaps.

Sit down.

Relax before you take your bath.

Oh, very well.

And taste this.

Straight from the vines of Olympus.

Your Sicilian vintages

will pale to nothing.

- Well?

- What's the law regarding hostages?

Hostages?

Can they be bought, reassigned, what?

Well...

I take it this hostage is female?

Head to toe, hip to hip. What's the law?

When you see what I have for you,

you'll think of nothing else.

Now, this is the...

Well, here she is.

Bring her here.

Your exquisite wildflower

from the hills of Spain, Marcus.

- What's her name? I've forgotten.

- You called me Eunice, my lord.

Silence.

Oh, yes.

Eunice.

Lift your chin, Eunice.

Did you ever see such skin, Marcus?

Turn around, slowly.

Flawless proportions.

Fold your arms behind your head.

Makes one wish one were a sculptor.

Iovely.

Enough of my collector's enthusiasm.

She's the commander's.

Take her to his apartment.

I won't go.

What did you say?

Don't give me away, my lord.

Whip me, beat me,

but don't send me from here.

Don't send me from you, my lord.

You can stay here, girl. I don't want you.

You don't want her?

And I refused an offer from Seneca

of six Arabian stallions.

Keep her, Petronius. She's yours.

Well, by the body of Juno.

Nevertheless,

give her five lashes for impertinence.

You won't give me away, then, lord?

That depends on your future conduct.

Oh, yes. Yes, my good lord.

Ply the lash carefully, now.

Don't damage her skin.

No, master.

Tell me, now.

Can one purchase a hostage?

Where is this precious gem?

At Plautius' place. You should see her.

A fiery young Lygian.

She throws flames at you.

A Lygian?

Yes, I do recall a child assigned to him.

It was some years ago, I'd forgotten.

How can I get my hands on her?

Hostages are wards of the state.

She belongs to Nero.

Perfect. He would give me Egypt?

He can keep Egypt and give me Lygia.

We'll go to the palace.

Plautius may not be in accord with this.

Well, she will be.

They've sentimentalized her

into an adopted daughter.

Philosophers, teachers, fools.

This one wasn't born to think,

she was born to feel.

But, Marcus, with Plautius regarding her

as his daughter, I mean, is this ethical?

After all, he was a general of the empire.

I'll have her if I have to abduct her.

I sense a certain frustration.

Is your little barbarian

entirely in sympathy with your plan?

She'll be cooing like a pigeon

in the right circumstances.

I wish I had your confidence.

I've never been able to discover

an honest warmth in any woman.

Oh, my dear, beautiful lord.

I love you so.

Please, how can I let you know?

Open.

Open in the name of the emperor.

I have an order from the emperor.

Yes?

- For the hostage, Lygia.

My orders are to take her

to the women's quarters in the palace.

She's not a slave.

She is our daughter.

My orders are to take her at once.

Wait here.

You are the hostage, Lygia?

Yes.

Welcome to Nero's house of women.

My name is Acte, I am in charge here.

May I ask why I am here?

I would say you have attracted

the attention of the emperor.

And you have been commanded

to the feast.

But the emperor has never seen me.

There must be some other reason.

Nero ordered you brought here, just as

I was brought here seven years ago.

He loved me then, more than he knew.

Prepare the bath, oil of lilies.

And bring me the beaded cloth

from Persia, mostly blues, I think.

And, yes,

the strand of fine gold at the waist.

I am not honored by this.

You were brought up in the home

of Plautius and Pomponia, weren't you?

Yes. Yes, do you know them?

I know of them.

- Lygia, child, listen to me.

- Yes, yes, yes, chatter, chatter, chatter.

You'd think each one

had the hair of a queen.

Well, this one has possibilities at least.

What were you going to tell me?

Simply that you are the chosen guest

of Nero.

You are in the hands

of the master of the world.

You will have to consider that

your good fortune and your fate.

The hostage, Lygia.

Aren't you coming?

The emperor did not ask me.

She needed a poet, not a soldier,

to describe her.

Everything's there but the smile.

I leave that to you.

Petronius is quite right.

I wish I were a poet.

But I had you escorted here

in great honor.

I deserve a smile for that.

It was gracious of you.

Ten big, strong Praetorian Guards

to support my eagerness to come.

Well said, Lygia.

But you know a caravan of rare

merchandise is always well-guarded.

And you belong here, Lygia.

A king's daughter in a royal palace.

That's something

you should have a natural appetite for.

And I can tell you,

you have other natural appetites too.

Hasn't old Dull-Beard,

your philosopher friend, Paul...

...told you about those?

Or has he lived in a cave all his life?

You should have seen my triumph today.

It was quite a display.

I looked for you, but then, I imagine

they had you chained to a peach tree.

Here. The panacea for all reticence.

You're right.

Your mouth has its own sweetness.

I know I'll find it so.

Don't look so frightened, Lygia.

I'm no heartless,

unfeeling machine of war.

I won't rush upon you

like a boulder from a catapult.

You've only to relax, smile a little,

and before you know it...

I can think of nothing, pray for nothing

but that this is over soon...

...so that you can send me home again.

Home?

Yes.

Hail Nero.

Hail Nero.

Hail Nero.

Have you ever seen your emperor

and your god this close before?

No, I have never seen Nero

this close before.

Same faces.

Same noses.

All green.

Just for variety, divine lord, try a ruby.

Is that the hostage I brought

for Vinicius?

Oh, yes, yes, Divinity.

Mm, Vinicius has an eye.

She's exquisite.

You are generous, lord.

Perhaps you've overlooked something

for yourself.

Yes.

What do you think, Petronius?

Put a dress on an olive stump...

...and my poor, untutored nephew

would call it beautiful.

I know your incomparable judgment,

Divinity.

And I'll wager you've already decided,

even from here...

...that she is too narrow in the hips.

Yes, yes, that's exactly what I think.

Dear Poppaea,

one woman should never judge another.

She hasn't the glands for it. Ha-ha-ha.

Isn't that witty, Petronius?

Among the gods, your humor is unique.

Dear Petronius.

Oh, yes.

Too narrow in the hip.

Sing for us, Divinity, sing for us.

Sing for us, sing for us.

I had almost come to a tragic decision.

I had decided

not to sing for you tonight.

We beseech thee.

My throat hurts.

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