Spartacus: Blood & Sand – 1.13 – Kill Them All

The entirety of noble Capuan society is assembled on the villa’s balcony, tarted up like whoa and watching the gladiators on chain gang parade out into the courtyard – Numerius and Domitia, Ilithyia, Aemilia and her husband Sextus the Magistrate. There are easily twice as many guards on duty than usual, owing to the men that Glaber’s left behind to guard his investment and his wayward wife. The men all look more serious and unhappy than usual, as does Batiatus up on the balcony, but the drunken happy guests don’t notice anything amiss.

Batty’s in his usual prating mode of flowery speeches, full of compliments and ass-kissing and self-aggrandizement, and it’s falling on the most appreciative of ears. Meanwhile, Spartacus and Crixus are sharing significant glances down on the sand which, as per usual, will disappoint me when they don’t lead to naked thrustytimes. *weeps*

Ilithyia then reads out an equally smarmy speech, allegedly penned by her absent husband, but very obviously written by Batty and Lucretia, due to it’s utterly ridiculous canonizing of Batty the Jerkface. The guests make polite murmurs of agreement, save Sextus, who looks politely disbelieving at first, and then outright stunned when Ilithyia announces that Glaber has elevated Batiatus to the position of aedile, a super socially advantageous political office – Minster of Bitchin Parties, basically. BRO OF BROS.

Batty repays this grand social debt by announcing his support for Glaber in the upcoming elections, and dedicates the upcoming gladiatorial exhibition to Glaber’s success. Predictably, it’s Crixus vs Spartacus, sine missione, in a fight to the death.

Both men step forward to be unchained and receive their weapons. As they move to the centre of the courtyard, Spartacus whispers urgently to Crixus, clearly trying to rehash a conversation had many times, but Crixus remains his usual uncooperative and grumpy self. Whatever Spartacus is planning, and I think we all know what it is, Crixus wants no part of it.

What a derp.

With one last glare at Lucretia (from Crixus) and one last worried look at Mira (from Spartacus), the fight begins. Crixus attacks straight away, and seriously, this is the most well-matched fight we’ve seen so far on this show, save Barca fighting and killing his own father. Just as everything starts getting really exciting, BOOM. IT’S FLASHBACK TIME.


TWO DAYS AGO: Spartacus is training with Rhaskos, who doesn’t look terribly pleased about whatever Spartacus is planning. He’s kind of making a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp, tbh. It seems that plenty of men in the ludus still think Crixus is the true Champion, and they won’t take Sparty’s side unless Crixus does so as well. Seriously? The dude who is in epic disfavour with the boss and the boss’ wife like no other ever before him? Are you fucking morons? Sigh.

Spartacus calls to Doctore to find a new sparring partner, and in a creepy and gross sign of just how much has changed recently, Doctore is forced to ask permission from Glaber’s guards. Iovus, Glaber’s right hand man and Captain of the Guard, sneers his sneery approval.

Sparty joins Agron and Duro at the wooden training dummy in what is easily the most obvious plotty scheming moment ever. Agron reports that Hamilcar has joined them, but Lysos and the rest of the Gauls refuse to do so, also choosing to side with Crixus. The three men agree that in order for their plans to succeed, they’re going to need Crixus, and Spartacus looks pretty confident that they can come to an accord. A SEXY ACCORD I HOPE.

Off in the corner, Iovus and another of Glaber’s guards are beating the crap out of a random gladiator, presumably because he looked at them funny. Doctore’s gritting his teeth and raging silently. Surely that’s how they’re going to win his support, right?


Upstairs in the villa, Batiatus is strutting about with Ashur at his side, reading his day’s mail – he’s received letters and invitations from all the finest local noblemen, all of whom are addressing him as an equal. It would be kind of cute if he wasn’t such a douchebag, tbh. The one cloud on his douchey horizon is the arrival of Doctore, looking even more grim than usual.

Doctore gently berates Batiatus for his lack of attention to the goings-on in the ludus and the way Glaber’s men are habitually mistreating the gladiators. Batty’s equally up front about his total lack of give a shit – he’s a politician and a big man now, and such concerns are now beneath him! When Doctore inquires if Batty means to wholly abandon his family’s generations-long business, Batty gives him the surprise of a lifetime.

The promise of freedom.

Batty’d planned to make the announcement at the upcoming celebration, but is more than happy to reveal all now – papers are being drawn for Doctore’s manumission, at which point he will be raised to the title of lanista of the entire ludus. This, my internets friends, is a hugebig fucking deal.

Doctore looks less pleased than Batty or anyone else would have expected, and he somewhat reluctantly (because he is the single decent human being in all of Capua, as we all know) admits that he’s been very troubled lately about some rumours he’s heard.

And then, what the actual fuck, Doctore confronts Batiatus with the rumours of Barca’s murder at Batty’s hands. Really, Doctore? Really? I mean, I guess there’s nothing to risk but yourself, now that Naevia’s out of the house. But if it’s true – AND IT TOTALLY IS – do you think Batty’s not going to fuck you up over this? ARGH.


Batiatus doesn’t answer straight away – GUILTY YOUR HONOR – and instead paces about, no doubt thinking up a plausible lie. And WTF, Batiatus then admits that it’s all true. Mkay.

OIC, he says Doctore has to know the REAL reasons behind it all. Batty sticks to the same lie he told Pietros – that Barca overstepped his commands to threaten Ovidius and instead killed him and his entire family. Batiatus patronizingly tells Doctore that when he is the lanista, he too will have to make difficult decisions about the lives of his men.

Doctore: o_o

Batty sneaks up behind his lovely wife for a bit of a grope, but really more for a proud fondle of her belly. He’s sure the baby is going to be a boy. Lucretia’s not quite as excited as Batty had hoped, though – she’s worried that their new social demands will be far greater than Batty’s anticipated. Lucretia sees only one way to fully satisfy their new circle’s appetite for new and exciting things – WITH BLOOOOD. And stuffed dormice!

Lucretia thinks it would be both cunning and quite peachy indeed to give the elite of Capua something to talk about, something to make them feel even more privileged than usual, something the entire city longs to see. And that something is Spartacus. In a fight to the death. Against the only man who has ever, ever defeated him. CRIXUS.

Batiatus looks utterly disgusted, as he assumes this is some sad ploy of Lucretia’s to allow Crixus to regain his status in the ludus AND get rid of Spartacus, who she hates immensely, at the same time. Oh Batty, you gitface. FOR SERIOUS. STOP UNDERESTIMATING YOUR WIFE. She is far more terrifyingly ruthless than you could ever even dream of being. Show some fucking respect for the most Machiavellian woman in the Republic, you little punk.

Lucretia dismisses Mira and Aurelia before she’s willing to set Batty straight. Instead of snapping at him, though, she’s very quiet and gentle about it, telling him that he’s sadly mistaken – all she wants from this is Crixus’ humiliating death. And if they can achieve some kind of social gain from it, then all the better. Batty agrees to the plan while somehow managing to not applaud his glorious wife’s brilliance, and they further plot to make sure Spartacus wins at any cost.

Shit’s looking real bad for Crixus, y’all.


That evening, Spartacus is brought up to the tablinum to discuss Batty’s plans for the fight. They trade their usual matey compliments – sincere on Batty’s end, and politically astute bullshit on Sparty’s. Spartacus asks many casual questions about the event, seemingly interested in securing the best arrangements for himself, but really just trying to execute his own sneaky plans for the evening instead.

When Spartacus finds out he’s to fight Crixus, he pauses for a moment in his calculations, long enough for Batiatus to notice. Sparty covers it up by claiming that such a fight has been long in coming, and suggests that Batty release Crixus from his solitary confinement and return him to training, in order to give a better show before he dies. Batiatus always finds Spartacus’ cockiness delightful, and this time is no different. He promises to allow Crixus to return only to daily training, which should be all the time Spartacus needs to win him over.

Batty sends Spartacus off to bed, but Spartacus has something else in mind – SEXYTIMES.


Outside in his cell, Spartacus and Mira make out like spotty teens, just long enough for Glaber’s spying guard to get bored and wander off. In between their gropings, Mira tells Spartacus that his plan is scary and crap and sure to fail, and for what? For his stupid revenge? No, alas. It’s so Spartacus can finally feel better about his wife’s death by killing her killer. Because that’s what all women you make out with want to hear about – your neverending love for your dead wife.

Mira agrees to his plan on one condition – and you know what? Good for her. GET SOME. Her condition is that Spartacus make loooove to her like he would to his wife.

Spartacus, being Spartacus, delivers like whoa. SERIOUSLY YOU GUYS I AM SO DELIGHTED. Mira finally gets to fuck someone she WANTS to fuck, when she wants to fuck them. Although, really, she should’ve demanded an entire night, not just one go. I AM JUST SAYING. Where are her priorities?


Back in the present, Spartacus and Crixus are well and truly into their fight. They’re both looking a little bloody and a little battered, but they’re nowhere near the end just yet.

Above, the ladies marvel at how well-matched the men are (heh), and Mira looks down just in time to catch the tiniest of signals from Spartacus. She asks Lucretia for permission to gather more wine for the guests, but Lucretia tells her to send someone else. RUH ROH. Spartacus, watching, sees Mira’s little headshake of denial, and turns back to his fight with mounting panic. Sparty holds off Crixus long enough to beg him to reconsider, but Crixus refuses like a sulky diaper baby. If babies had swords and were huge gladiators, obvsly.


Oh hay it’s flashback time.

ONE DAY AGO: Doctore walks into Crixus’ cell to give him the news that Spartacus has asked for Crixus’ release, in order to prepare for their fight to the death. “I WILL HAVE THE PENNE ALLA ARRABIATA,” Crixus totally neglects to reply.

Crixus does not give two fucks for an extra day’s training, though. He’s made a promise to Naevia to win his freedom and find her so they can be together always in harmony harmony. The mere mention of winning freedom makes Doctore nervous, though, and he warns Crixus not to bring it up with Batiatus the Lying Asshole Murderer. Instead, he tells Crixus to bide his time, because soon enough Doctore is going to be a free man and the lanista, and that’s when Crixus can go free. YAY!

Oh, right. Except that Lucretia and Batty are planning for Spartacus to kill him a whole lot.

Doctore, of course, knows nothing of this, and sees only Spartacus in the way of his and Crixus’ plans, and they agree that Spartacus has to die.


The next morning, Spartacus is again practicing with Agron and Duro as they very obviously conspire conspiratorily with copious conspiratoriousness. Sparty has decided that the best moment for their attack will be during the celebration, since the elite members of Capuan society will all be present. Once they’ve all been hacked to screaming bits, it will take the city a long time to regroup and pursue the escaped slaves. Duro and Agron are still worried about the lack of Crixus’ support, but Spartacus thinks he has it covered pretty well – just as Crixus makes his triumphant return to the training field.


Inside the villa, Lucretia is interrogating Ilithyia about the evening’s guest list and Ilithyia’s efforts to make sure that the finest and most noble citizens will be attending. How Ilithyia can be smiling in the face of all this fucking betrayal is a total mystery, although I assume she has a variety of horrible plots up her sleeve.

Lucretia thanks Ilithyia almost genuinely for all her help with the celebration, but of course, there are more demands coming. Why doesn’t she just tie Ilithyia up and spank her senseless already? PUT ME IN CHARGE OF THIS SHOW, STARZ. MEEEE.

Anyway. Lucretia’s taken the liberty of composing an obnoxiously flowery speech on behalf of Glaber, which Ilithyia is to read aloud to the guests. This, finally, is the last goddamn straw for Ilithyia, and she’s totally incredulous that Ilithyia would force her to read this sad shit, much less pretend they’re her husband’s own words.

Lucretia seems to agree with the idea of Ilithyia being her devoted (sex) slave, for when Ilithyia asks just how much longer she’ll have to put up with Lucretia’s increasingly upsetting demands, Lucretia’s response is “as long as I’m alive, baby.”



Outside, Crixus has thrown himself back into his training with a fucking crazy sweaty manscaped vengeance. As he spars with Rhaskos, Spartacus carefully positions himself nearby with the intent of giving him The Talk. When Doctore calls for the men to take their lunch break, Sparty makes his move.

Crixus looks at Spartacus with total disgust and disdain as Sparty sits down beside him in the shade. He brushes off Spartacus’ compliments on his return to fighting form by immediately shooting down the plans for escape – Crixus has already been briefed by Rhaskos, and thinks it’s the stupidest shit ever to stupid.

Spartacus breaks it down for him: he knows that Crixus wants his freedom to seek Naevia, and he explains exactly how his own wife was returned to him, dead at Batty’s command. This shuts Crixus up for a thoughtful moment or two, before he demands to know how Spartacus found all this out. Spartacus admits to killing Aulus after torturing the information from him.

Crixus ponders this for a bit, and admits that if he was in Sparty’s position, he would do the very same thing and demand vengeance. But he sees no way that rebelling will help him win his own freedom and Naevia’s – he doesn’t even know where she’s been taken, and he won’t have much time to find out while fleeing as a hunted rebellious slave, now will he? His thinkyface is adorable, btw.

Spartacus promises to do anything he can to help Crixus find her, together, and it really seems like Crixus is going to throw in with him wholeheartedly. Crixus stares at him kind of sadly and tells him that in another life, they might as well have been brothers. I mean, come on, they’re so completely alike in so many ways. FINALLY SOMEONE ADMITS IT OH MY GOD.

BUT NO. Crixus is determined to win his freedom with honor, in the arena, because he’s an idiot about this kind of shit. Instead of parting angrily, though, they stand in front of each other as equals, and Crixus asks that Spartacus find Naevia if he should die in their fight. Spartacus agrees on the condition that if he himself should die tomorrow, that Crixus will one day kill Batiatus on his behalf. And then they shake hands for the very first time ever.


Admittedly I am extremely hungover right now and thus am irrationally emotional BUT SERIOUSLY WHY NO HUGZ. *cries*


Batiatus is sitting in the tablinum surrounded by the paperwork that comes with being a rising star in the Republic’s political arena, absentmindedly eating an apple as Aurelia serves him some wine. Ashur smarms in with the news that he’s been able to procure something mysterious from Marcellus, and Aurelia is banished to the kitchens so the men can scheme.

Ashur has apparently picked up some kind of sneaky drug, which will be slipped to Crixus in his food to weaken him for the next day’s fight. Just enough to make him slow to react, but not enough to make it obvious to the guests. Ashur looks obnoxiously pleased to have a hand in Crixus’ death. SUCH A SLAPPABLE SMILE.


Back to the present evening’s fight, and Spartacus and Crixus show no sign of tiring, despite the assumed usage of the sneaky drugs. The guests on the balcony all agree that Crixus gives a much better show against Spartacus than Varro did, neither knowing nor caring that Varro’s widow is the one serving their wine. Aurelia manages not to smack anyone.

While Lucretia and the guests are distracted, Mira slips away from the balcony. She sneaks down to the storeroom by the ludus gates and deliberately drops an amphora of wine, shattering it on the stone floor. The guard barely gives her a second look, because he’s clearly a moron who has no idea the lengths to which a woman will go once she’s had Sparty’s cock and is craving some more.

Mira quietly grabs a sharp pottery shard and stabs the totally gobsmacked guard multiple times in the throat, killing him before he has a chance to scream an alarm. AW YEAH. That is my kind of girl, no lie.



THAT MORNING: Mira is cleaning and polishing various bits of jewelry for Lucretia as she and Batty put on their prettiest dresses. Batty’s trying out various versions of his smarmy speech, and Lucretia lovingly tells him that his father, Titus, would have been so proud to see his son so successful.

Yeah, Lucretia, maybe if you hadn’t killed him, you mean? Hm?

Before Batiatus departs to see to the ludus’ preparations, Mira overhears that something is afoot involving Crixus and Ashur, with plans to see Crixus dead.


The villa’s slaves all rush around making the final preparations to the food and wine. Aurelia stumbles with a dish of olives and spills some on the floor, and Ashur the lurking creeper tries to turn his charms on her as he prepares a tray of food for Crixus. Aurelia is, unfortunately, susceptible to anyone who seems like they have it in for Spartacus, and is soon following Ashur about and demanding more information as to why Ashur is somehow so certain that Spartacus will be victorious. Mira calls her away before she can learn anything interesting.

Meanwhile, Ashur waits til he’s alone, and slips the drug into Crixus’ cup of wine.


The gladiators sit in the training square eating their afternoon meal as the guards watch attentively – a far cry from the old rowdy frathouse days, before the questionable patronage of Legatus Glaber. Duro and Agron are arguing like little brats – because they just CANNOT CONTAIN THEMSELVES, EVER – gaining themselves a short lecture from Spartacus on OpSec. He also cautions them to stay clear of Doctore, the only honorable man for a million miles.

Aurelia enters the courtyard with a basket of flowery decorations to assemble, and Spartacus sidles over for a quick word on his way to get some water. He warns her to be careful during the celebration, and that if anything should get out of hand, she should hide herself away somewhere safe. Aurelia hates him so much that she can’t even bring herself to listen to any kind of helpful advice from him, but she shuts up right away when Spartacus tells her that Numerius chose Varro’s death, not Batiatus, and that he chose it purely for entertainment.

Aurelia sneers at him in complete disbelief – as if it’s not bad enough that she saw Ashur preparing a “special” meal for Crixus, ensuring Spartacus’ victory! And now she has to listen to Spartacus’ sad lies implicating a mere boy?

Sparty is totally shocked, and denies all knowledge of the plot. Aurelia’s too blinded by hate and betrayal and all manner of stupid whiny bullshit to care.


Ashur’s tainted meal is brought to Crixus, alone in his cell, and he reaches for the cup of wine. The sight of Lucretia standing in the doorway stops him dead. She’s there for the saddest possible purpose, too. Lucretia promises to forgive Crixus if only he tells her that Naevia meant nothing to him, and that she, Lucretia, is truly his only love.

Crixus refuses to tell such a hideous lie, even in the face of Lucretia’s unwanted revelation – that she is pregnant with his baby. He doesn’t rise to her bait, instead telling her that the only child he ever dreamed of having was with Naevia, and Lucretia storms out.

He drinks his wine as she departs, making a slight face at the odd taste.


PRESENTLY: Spartacus and Crixus are still locked in sweaty, manly battle. Spartacus spies Mira standing at the doorway to the insula, her hands covered in the dead guard’s blood, and knows it’s finally time to get the party started.

Spartacus lets loose on Crixus with renewed energy, smashing him to the ground almost senseless. Spartacus holds him at swordpoint and whispers that the reason Crixus is weakening is because he’s been poisoned by Lucretia and Batiatus. Crixus angrily slaps the sword out of Sparty’s hand and hauls himself to his feet. Agron and Duro nervously eye Spartacus’ lost sword on the ground before them.

Crixus finally loses his shield, and is now very noticeably acting roofied. Spartacus gets him in a headlock, sword to his throat, and once again begs him to join in the rebellion. And finally, FUCKING FINALLY, the light of agreement is in Crixus’ eyes. He gives Spartacus the world’s tiniest nod of approval, and Spartacus throws him clear across the courtyard, just beneath the balcony.

….Just by his shield, actually.

Crixus kneels in the sand and holds the shield before him, catching his breath just enough to call Sparty’s name as he taps the edge of the shield insistently. Sudden and shocking realization dawns on Doctore’s face as Spartacus charges full-out towards Crixus.


Spartacus takes a wild leap off the shield and launches himself at the full balcony. As the guests flee, shrieking in terror, Spartacus’ first blow takes Sextus straight through the head, and the blood splatters Batty’s horrified face. Sextus’ dying hands clutch at Ashur’s tunic, and the two of them fall off the balcony.

Spartacus pulls back to fuck Batty’s shit up, who is frozen before him with fear, but his sword arm is stopped by Doctore’s whip. This gives Batty just enough time to flee, squealing like a frightened piglet. Crixus leaps up and cuts Sparty’s arm free from the whip, and then screams at the rest of the gladiators to KILLLL THEM AAAAAAAAALLLLLLL.


Duro and Agron are really excited, you guys.

As one, and unarmed (save for Agron who grabs Sparty’s discarded sword), the gladiators rush the guards, and the slaughter begins.

Inside the villa, the guests have all lost their fool minds, and are shrieking and running around like idiots. Batty strides confidently into the room and tries to insist that everything is under control, but let’s face it – when you have blood and brains splattered on your face, YOU ARE NOT VERY CONVINCING ABOUT THE LACK OF CAUSE FOR CONCERN.

Lucretia screams to Ilithyia to gather her husband’s men and defend the villa, and an unholy light comes into Ilithyia’s eyes. She grabs Lucretia for a final kiss and promises to see her “properly attended”, before fleeing into the crowd.

Outside on the balcony, Spartacus easily dispatches the two remaining guards over the side of the cliff, and turns his attention towards the villa. Down in the courtyard, however, the gladiators are having a less easy time of it, being largely unarmed.

As the guards die, the gladiators strip them of their weapons and turn on the rest of their company, but it’s too late for a few old friends. Hamilcar is one of the first to fall. Duro rushes to dispatch his killer, and stops to search the fallen guard for the keys to their manacles.

Doctore flings an oncoming gladiator out of his path and grabs his sword, storming over to bellow at Crixus. Quite logically, he’d like to know just WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK is going on here, by the gods. Crixus, wild-eyed and covered in blood, announces that Spartacus has shown them the way, to Doctore’s complete horror and disgust.

Doctore shouts that Spartacus is a fucking dog without any honor, but Crixus has the perfect counter – Batiatus is the one who killed Spartacus’ wife, and Lucretia herself drugged Crixus this very evening because he scorned her love and chose Naevia instead. Before Doctore can react to either one of these significant revelations, Crixus flings himself happily back into the fray, shouting for Doctore to join them and put and end to the fucking madness. As Crixus turns to see his response, Doctore throws his sword … at the guard behind Crixus, about to attack. Looks like he’s joining after all.

And then. OH YES AND THEN, Doctore looks across the courtyard and sees his first and foremost target, crawling away in pain – ASHUR.

oh my god you guys shit just got so real and so delightful.


Spartacus is swashbuckling his way through the tablinum, and guard after guard is falling to his sword. Down in the courtyard, Duro and Agron are making a similar mess of the rest of the guards, killing six in short succession. When they stop to cheer and hug in victory, though, one remaining guard makes a desperate lunge at Agron’s unprotected back.

Duro throws him out of the way and takes the sword in his stomach instead.

Agron takes the guard’s head clean off, but it’s way too late for baby brother. Duro dies a tragic and manly death in his brother’s arms, and Agron gives him one last cuddle before running off to avenge his death as bloodily as possible.


Upstairs in the villa, Batiatus has finally managed to calm the guests somewhat, assuring them that the gladiators cannot enter the villa, and that the guards surely have things under control by now. BUT NO. Mira’s opened the gate, and the gladiators pour into the villa, Crixus in the lead, screaming and covered in blood.

YOU GUYS. FOR SERIOUS. I cannot even begin to describe the fucking carnage. (Any of you who have ever seen me drunkenly eat tacos IRL will be familiar with such things, though.) The gladiators slaughter everyone in their paths, completely without a shred of mercy. Crixus pauses a moment to lock eyes with Lucretia, who stands her ground bravely while hissing to Batiatus “WHERE THE FUCK IS ILITHYIA?”

Well. Actually. Our Ilithyia is striding purposefully towards the villa’s front door with her body slave. The guards at the front door are inexplicably not responding to the screams of terror coming from within the villa, and Ilithyia tells them to follow her and seal the doors behind them. When the guards ask what they should do about the rest of the guests, Ilithyia viciously reminds them that she is the goddamn wife of the Legatus, and that’s all it takes for them to obey.

As the last guard leaves the villa, Ilithyia’s old friend Aemilia comes at a dead run towards the door. Ilithyia gives her one last superior smile before the door closes behind her. The guards bar the door with a heavy torch and leave the guests trapped inside.


Be my vampire bride. I BEG YOU.

DRAMATIC CARNAGE! Blood squirting from beneath the barred villa doors! Splatters hitting the camera! Manly bellows of rage! OH SHOW OF MY HEART.


Downstairs in the bathing room, Ashur is scrambling for some kind of weapon, ANYTHING with which to defend himself. Doctore’s on his tail, and we all know that man is no fucking joke. If being turned on by Doctore’s epic rage is wrong THEN I DON’T WANT TO BE RIGHT, OKAY.

Doctore uses his dual swords to emphasize his angry words to Ashur – does Ashur perhaps recall the conversation they had, in that very room, about just exactly what happened the night that Barca disappeared? The cold sweat on Ashur’s face says OH YES INDEED. He still manages to pull up a disarming smile for Doctore, along with an attempt at his usual pack of lies.

Doctore’s fucking HAD IT with Ashur’s shit, and won’t even let him get a lie in edgewise. Ashur’s last-ditch appeal to Doctore’s honor – would he really kill a defenseless man? – backfires completely when Doctore willingly tosses over one of his swords to even shit up. FUCK YEAH.


Lucretia and Batty stumble through the TRUFAX SEAS OF BLOOD and heaps of bodies with Domitia, Numerius, and Aurelia close behind. A dying guard in the corner mumbles something about the doors having been sealed, and Lucretia realizes exactly what Ilithyia’s done. Before anyone can really react, a gladiator runs up behind them and kills Domitia in an impressive explosion of blood.

Batiatus literally fucking LEAPS INTO ACTION, grabs the dead guard’s sword, and kills the shit out of the attacking gladiator while everyone else just stands about wibbling. I am reluctantly impressed. Lucretia takes Numerius and Aurelia and flees for places unknown, and Batty takes the sword and heads back into the crazy.

When they reach the center of the house, there’s basically no one left alive except gladiators with killing on their minds. Lucretia sends Numerius off with Aurelia to hide, and retraces her steps to find Batiatus.


Ashur is not faring very well against Doctore, and oh how I rejoice to see it. Ashur rashly chooses this particular moment to begin his supervillain monologuing, and reveals every last one of his schemes to Doctore: Barca’s betrayal and death; Calavius’ kidnapping and murder, and the set-up of Solonius; the blackmailing of Glaber for his patronage; EVERYTHING. Why does he expect Doctore to be impressed? What a twit.

Doctore just thinks this makes Ashur an even bigger douchebag than ever, and his disdain only grows when Ashur has a crybaby tantrum over how mean everyone’s always been to him. HI, YOU BETRAYED YOUR ONE SINGLE FRIEND TO ASSRAPE AND DEATH. Come the fuck on, dude.

Doctore brushes off Ashur’s increasingly desperate attacks LIKE A FUCKING BOSS, taking about the same amount of effort it would to pick his nose. Ashur’s thrown ass over teakettle in 3 short moves, combined with the brutal truth: that he deserved every single bad thing that’s happened to him so far.

Ashur snivels pathetically, begging Doctore to let him die like a gladiator, because he KNOWS Doctore’s honor won’t let him kill a sobbing babyman. And then, because he is a treacherous fucking MASTER OF VILLAINY, Ashur picks up the strigil he’d noticed half concealed in the sand and shanks Doctore in the thigh.

Doctore’s sword thrust goes wild and Ashur scampers away, out into the corpse-strewn courtyard. By the time Doctore makes it outside, Ashur’s gone – hidden carefully beneath a pile of dead bodies.


Lucretia is tiptoeing around the creepily silent villa looking for her husband. Instead, she’s found by Crixus, who looks very calm and serious despite being covered in viscera. Crixus has one very important question for her: where the fuck is Naevia? Lucretia maintains a bit of her cool and tries to bargain with him – she’ll tell him if he helps her and Batiatus escape the villa.

Crixus is smart enough not to believe her, and slowly advances on her with his sword pointed straight at her. Lucretia tries one last time to use their child to her advantage, but HOLY SHIT. Crixus would rather see it dead, yo. He stabs Lucretia in the stomach and leaves her to die.


Aurelia and Numerius are sneaking through the villa, supposedly looking for a place to hide. Yeah, sorry, Numerius, but Aurelia has other plans for you. She asks if it really was his choice that Varro die at Spartacus’ hands, and HAHA stupid fucking Numerius is like “bitch please, that sad nobody deserved to die!”

Aurelia’s not going to stand for that kind of crazy talk about her beloved husband. She makes her way over to Numerius slowly enough to almost hypnotize him, and once she’s right up in his grill, she STABS THE EVERLOVING FUCK OUT OF HIM, shrieking all the while. It’s disturbingly satisfying.

Spartacus comes running in to catch the end of the stabbytimes and hauls Aurelia off of Numerius’ body. She calms down a bit and lets Sparty hold her for a moment, until Doctore arrives behind them. Sparty tells Doctore to look after Aurelia, which he is not excited about. He thinks Sparty’s maybe killed enough people for one day, but there’s just one more to go – BATIATUS.

Batty’s still got his sword and is holding off a trio of nervous young gladiators in the center of the impluvium. Lucretia, somehow magically not dead yet, staggers into the room looking like 10 kinds of hell, and collapses at Batty’s feet.

AND THEN. Spartacus cuts him off to stand in front of him and deliver his glorious speech of revenge. What WOULD Batty do to be able to hold his wife again? Would he kill a thousand men? Or just the one standing in front of him? Batty attacks wildly and Sparty has him down in approximately 1.7 seconds. Batiatus makes one final plea to Doctore to save him, which goes ignored, and then he just throws down his sword in angry despair.

Sparty slices Batty’s throat open with a look of immense satisfaction on his face, and Batty falls to the floor to die next to Lucretia, who is still twitching and gasping a bit.

Spartacus gives the remaining slaves a dramatic and manly speech, as though they actually need any more inspiration to rebel all over the place, and they kick open the gates of the villa and storm out into the streets of Capua, covered in blood and guts.