The Last Days of Pompeii Page #2

- It is to me too.

What do you suppose Gaius would do

if I let you rush in on his guests?

- He'd have the skin off my back.

- He was kind to me.

I want only a little. I'm desperate.

- It may mean two lives.

- Lives go cheap in Pompeii.

Let me see Gaius.

You start trouble

and you'll go to jail.

Go to the arena if you wanna fight.

That's the place where fighting pays.

- All right, you'll do.

- I'll be paid for this, won't I?

You put up a good fight and please the

audience, you'll get a gold piece or 2.

But remember you've gotta show

them something. Understand?

Now, get your sword and shield.

I have the money. Take it to the doctor.

He'll come now.

- Too late.

- Here's the money.

Marcus, my friend. Too late.

She never knew

when the little son died.

My poor friend.

Poor.

Poor and a fool.

I've lost all I loved

because I was poor.

A year ago...

...a week ago,

I could have saved them.

- All my life I've been a fool.

- Steady, Marcus.

It cost me this to learn

what the world is really like.

Money is all that matters.

Well, I can get money.

It's easy to get money.

All you have to do...

...is kill.

The god of war himself.

I knew this Marcus

when he was a blacksmith.

I won 1000 gold pieces

on you today.

The Wolf was nearly a match

for him though.

- He was a good fighter.

- Let's go and find Petronius.

- He owes me 500.

- And me 1000.

Wait here.

So even the great Marcus

cannot yet kill with a light heart.

I'm sorry for you.

What?

Sorry for me?

You, a slave?

Every man's a slave.

- I, you, my master there.

- He's a rich man.

Money doesn't matter.

You're a fool.

Money is all that matters.

Without money, who cares for a man?

Who will listen to him?

They'll listen to me.

- And who will care for you?

- No one.

Well done, Marcus.

- A good fight.

- The best fighter in the empire.

Marcus, what a fighter.

You remember me, don't you?

You once saved my life.

I don't save lives.

Very good. Very witty.

But surely you haven't forgotten

Cleon, the slave dealer?

In your forge, the Scythian prisoner

would have killed me.

I remember.

I wonder why I stopped him.

I don't know why you should

look down on me, my friend.

Aren't we in the same business?

We both furnish amusement

for the people.

I risk my life with the man

I'm fighting.

You buy and sell poor wretches

to be slaughtered as a spectacle.

I'm not proud of myself, but by Jupiter,

compared to you, I'm a holy man.

You'll never be an old one.

It isn't brawn that survives, it's brain.

It's well-known that the rat

lives longer than the lion.

But who wants to be a rat?

I wouldn't do your dirty

work, not to save my life.

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