Spartacus

You were right, Varinia.

Vengeance alone is not enough.

To become like your enemy

is to lose to him.

But what's important isn't our

living or our dying...

but this new thing we've

created, however briefly.

A world without slaves.

And if you die, who will

tell that story?

Live, so that I will live.

So that we will live on.

So that it won't be wasted

or forgotten.

Did you see the look

he gave you, Varinia?

I didn't.

And even if I had...

I wouldn't care.

What sort of look?

What look, you?

What look?

You tell me!

I made a promise once

to tell our story.

It began in a small village

in Gaul...

where I was born a free woman.

Then the Romans destroyed my world

and made me a slave.

Nothing and no one could

stand against the Romans.

But Rome herself was torn

by conflict.

Bloody civil wars

raged for years...

between plebeians and their

rivals, the patricians...

led by Senator Marcus Crassus,

the richest man in the world.

As a child, he had seen his father

murdered in the Forum.

Crassus had risen from the

ashes of his family's defeat...

to unlimited wealth

and ambition.

Ambition kept in check only by his

rivals like Antonius Agrippa.

The civil wars were over. Men

smiled at one another in public.

But the fighting never stopped.

Fishing for votes?

No, just enjoying our

democratic way of life.

A new wine. From Spain.

Delicious. But I like your

cupbearer better.

Any news from Spain

along with the wine?

- A great victory by Pompey.

- Another?

The man is positively

boring in his triumphs.

I shall console myself with the way

Crassus must feel.

Pompey's no great warrior.

He got so fat on the riches of his

triumphs he can't ride his horse.

Disparage Pompey all you like

but the man gets the job done.

Victory over a handful of

vermin ridden Gaulish peasants...

is hardly the mark of

military distinction.

They say he will be Consul.

This grape...

is not to my satisfaction.

More wine.

I think I'm going to

borrow your wife, Cornelius.

The wealth of a man like Crassus

could be seen in gold or silver...

but it's true measure

was in flesh.

Thousands of slaves.

They lived out their short lives

in a world of suffering...

at the whim of their masters.

No Roman citizen gave them

a second thought.

Greetings, citizens.

Today we offer a group of

barbarians from Gaul...

courtesy of the great Pompey.

Ahoy, Batiatus.

What brings you up from Capua?

The same thing as you,

I would imagine.

My stock needs freshening.

Although how a man from the country

can bid against a Senator...

- I might as well go home.

- A modest man from the country?

Yours is widely known as the finest

gladiatorial school in all Italy.

- You flatter me.

- No, not in the least.

Look at this beauty.

And a virgin.

A virgin. Given the appetite of

our frontier troops, I doubt that.

Being a virgin is overrated.

It's just an excuse to inflate

the price.

Good teeth.

Wide hips.

And an excellent breeder.

Magnificent.

She's easy on the eye,

I'll grant you...

but these Gauls have

thin blood.

They rarely last the winter. I'd be

like throwing your money away.

Why, Batiatus,

are you in love?

Don't worry, my friend.

I won't bid against you.

You're too kind, Senator.

- But I may need a favor some day.

- Of course.

- Five hundred sesterces!

- Done!

How can the Senate choose Pompey

over you as the next Consul?

It would be a close vote.

I bought you a gift.

It's beautiful.

- You are too generous.

- Am I?

Well, I suppose I might be.

In the arms of the

richest man in Rome...

- and her husband's best friend...

- Show me.

Helena might be forgiven her

ignorance of the bracelet's origin.

It's true cost.

What is hell?

Hell is that place where the

simplest action becomes painful.

Where it hurts to walk...

to breathe, even to think.

The gold mines of Egypt

were such a hell.

Among the Thracian slaves

condemned to an early death...

one would shake

the Roman world.

His name:
Spartacus.

Pick it up!

Pick it up!

No!

Stop!

So he's a Thracian, yes?

Worse. He's an animal.

Good. That's even better.

This is your lucky day,

Thracian.

What kind of a place is this?

Move!

Fresh meat!

Shut your hole!

Get back to work.

You stink, animals.

Clean yourselves.

This way.

I want these cut into thin slices.

I wouldn't give this to a dog!

I could get used to this.

I am Gannicus.

This is Spartacus.

David the Jew. He never talks.

Some say he can't.

You're Thracians?

- The crowd likes Thracians.

- Be quiet, Nordo. Eat.

Didn't get your name, friend.

You're not my friend. I don't wanna

know your name, your story.

Why not?

I might meet you in the arena

some day, and then I'll kill you.

Why wait?

You'll have plenty of chances

to fight.

Save it for when you

have no choice. Eat.

You must be the new Thracians.

I can almost tell Thracians.

You stink like pigs.

- You must be Crixus.

- You've heard of me.

Who hasn't? "Crixus the big nose."

Not surprised you could smell us.

Enough!

To your cells! Now!

Well, move, slaves!

You, Spartacus.

Where did you learn to fight?

When a Roman asks you

a question, you answer, slave.

Fighting Romans.

Crassus. What a

pleasant surprise.

I had no idea you still partook

of such common pleasures...

as our public baths.

I do not disdain the public.

You love mankind. It's only

people you can't stand.

Now, why is it that those who are

most in favor of mob rule...

stand most to benefit from the

public's greed and stupidity?

Why is it that the rich are

always so keen on reform...

after they've made their

fortune and not before?

The Republic was a fine form

of government...

when Rome was a

backwater city state.

Times have changed.

Rome rules the world now.

And one man with a strong

vision must rule Rome.

So power should be wielded

by whom?

The educated? The wealthy?

The aristocrat? By Crassus?

Or by Pompey?

Plato did say that leadership must

be left to the educated.

That leaves Pompey out.

Julius Caesar, you mean.

You've heard what

they say about him.

"Every woman's man and

every man's woman."

But you're right,

Pompey overreaches.

If he's not careful, his head will

be found hanging in the Forum...

just like that of your father

and your brother.

Was it something I said?

This is the Roman short sword...

the Gladius. From which

you get your names.

Twenty-two inches long,

three pounds in weight.

A stabbing weapon

for close work.

You kill a man with this and

you can smell his sweat...

taste his breath.

But you sons of whores...

aren't worthy of fighting

with the Gladius yet.

So you will use...

these wooden swords

while I teach you.

You, slave.

Pick it up.

Come at me.

Again.

Too slow, slave.

Pick it up.

Too slow.

Cinna!

So what do you think of our

new Thracian slaves? Good, huh?

They have spirit,

but no real talent.

I see. So you think

they're just very lucky?

And Cinna...

this boy was very expensive.

Don't damage my property.

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