Quo Vadis Page #5

And when one has been given a divine

gift, one should not jeopardize it.

But I am not the only one afflicted.

My empress has a headache.

And the only thing

which will bring her relief...

...is the sound of my voice.

You promised to sing,

or I would not be here.

I'm totally unprepared.

So I must compose as I sing.

Bravo.

You must be content with that.

My throat.

Watch Croton.

He's killed over 300 opponents.

He could twist the head off your Ursus

before he knew what touched him.

Orpheus at this moment must be as

yellow with envy as our poet lucan.

I am as a candle next to the sun.

And you, Petronius, what do you say?

I say that your verses are common

and fit only for the fire they celebrate.

Farewell, Petronius.

What defect do you find in them?

Well, your verses would be worthy

of Ovid, of Virgil, even of Homer.

But they are not worthy of you.

The conflagration you describe

does not blaze enough.

It is not all-consuming.

Had lucan here written these verses,

I should acknowledge him a genius.

But you can create a work

such as the world has never known.

Therefore, I say this to your eyes.

Take greater pains.

The gods have given me a certain talent,

but they've given me something greater.

A true judge and friend.

I thought it sufficient to equal Homer.

You have opened my eyes.

Then all men, born and unborn,

are my debtors.

You're right.

My conflagration does not burn enough.

And do you know why?

I've never seen a burning city.

You said one must suffer an experience

to re-create it.

A sculptor has his model.

I had no model.

To burn a city in order to create an epic.

That's carrying the principle

of art for art's sake too far.

Soon the spring will be over.

The summer heat will begin.

What stenches will arise from Rome?

I shall move the court to Antium.

You did not observe

Croton's masterful stroke.

I was not the only one.

Vinicius has hardly taken his eyes

from her.

She must be truly exciting.

I must see this for myself.

But it was a fair match.

It could have been one or the other.

You seemed pleased with my gift,

commander.

Is it enough, in the light of your service?

Or isn't it?

Do you know, lovely one?

Has he told you?

No, Caesar,

I thought it should come from you.

Know then, Lygia,

that I have given you to Marcus Vinicius...

...as a reward for his devotion to me

and his brilliant service on the battlefield.

Henceforth, your guardian

is no longer General Plautius.

You belong to the household of Vinicius.

On closer inspection,

I find it a fair reward.

Perhaps excessive.

Except, of course,

as you so wisely observed, Divinity.

Oh, yes.

Too narrow in the hips. Ha-ha.

Let us go and greet my guests.

Now you know, Lygia.

And there were moments

when I thought I could love you.

Make use of your beauty, live with me.

Iove as you were made to love.

What difference does it make

whether I love, now that you own me?

You have but to give the word,

the command.

The small, empty command.

Yes, I own you.

You realize that, don't you?

You realize I can take you

and have you flogged until you love me?

Take me, then.

Take me to your house, anything.

Take me and you'll hear nothing from me

but a prayer for you.

- Lygia.

- Commander Vinicius.

The empress

requests your presence at once.

Very well.

Here. Take this girl

to the house of Gaius Petronius.

Put her in charge of Anaxander,

master of slaves there.

Yes, commander.

Tears have but one use, Lygia.

As a prelude to joy.

Remember that while you wait for me.

You seem to have been having difficulty

in proving your ownership.

A young mare often enjoys

fighting the bit, empress.

I've always found conflict between

man and woman a waste of time.

It consumes so much...

So much vitality.

Well said, empress.

I am not your empress.

I'm a priestess of Amon,

and you are the serpent.

Therefore, poison is in your mouth.

And I have a taste for poison, Marcus.

To change to a serpent,

that might take time.

I can bring that about.

Those are Commander Vinicius' orders.

Here. Oh, how clumsy of me.

You see, I know your symbol,

even though I'm not yet one of you.

Have courage, child.

Come along.

Bear in mind, your fate is determined

by the greatest power in this world.

His will be done.

Aulus, my dear,

you must get some sleep.

I'll call you as soon as

Ursus sends word.

We should be hearing from Ursus soon

no matter what happened.

Good morning.

You're right, perhaps we'd better

ignore the formalities.

Will you tell Lygia I have come for her?

We've not seen Lygia

since she was taken from us.

Bring Lygia here at once.

I tell you, we don't know where she is.

- You're lying, general.

- I do not lie.

On my oath as a Roman officer,

so that you can understand, I do not lie.

You may search the house if you wish.

You refuse to say anything more?

Only this:

That you've violated our hospitality...

...in the cruelest way a man could.

Hospitality?

You're overlooking

our law of hostages, aren't you?

The emperor assigned Lygia to my care.

She's my property.

You're overlooking

what's happening to Rome.

To the world, Vinicius.

It's such laws as this

that will tumble its foundations.

Your emperor, your god, Nero,

bathed in his own infamy.

- Aulus, my dear, please.

- I understand your concern.

I hope I shall continue to forget

what I just heard, general.

Marcus.

My dear young Marcus.

I want to call you that because

for all of your rank, you could be my son.

A woman of my years

is not unaware of things.

Lygia's eyes were drawn to you.

I saw that.

And they would not have been

if deep down inside of you...

...you were this cold, this relentless.

Iook in your heart, Marcus, and

recognize the truth of you that should be.

Well, as long as you

return empty-handed...

...sit down

and fill your obviously empty stomach.

They claim to know nothing of her.

Plautius is lying.

Forget the whole undignified whim

and come with me to Antium.

There's something strange about Plautius

and that household.

By the gods,

they don't even talk like Romans.

And their friend,

a fellow from Tarsus named Paul.

Paul, you say? Of Tarsus?

Yes, he's some fool philosopher

I met there.

Paul of Tarsus.

My poor Marcus.

This is drama for the ages.

You picked the cherished egg

in a nest of Christians.

She's a Christian,

and Christians have spirited her away.

Christians. Are they the ones

who worship some dead carpenter?

Yes, that's right.

A rebel against the state,

a Jew called Christ.

Crucified in Palestine, as I remember.

The sect is a secret one.

It consists of Jews, Greeks,

and many others...

...who meet in secret and spread

their superstitions among the Romans.

They are a constant worry

to Nero and the senate.

Tigellinus is always collecting

a group of them for questioning...

This calls for a detachment of Praetorians.

I'll tell Tigellinus to start a search.

Well, now, wait.

My dear boy,

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