Quo Vadis Page #3

Speaking of things that grow,

cast your eye on this one.

For your bath.

Stand up, fellow.

Body of...What a prospect.

What's going on in the arena these days?

Is Croton still champion?

I do not know.

General Plautius never thought

of having you trained as a gladiator?

He'd win enough gold

to fill your sandals.

I do not fight.

You don't fight?

Why, with one arm strapped,

you could kill 50 Nubians an hour.

I'll speak to your master about you.

I can make you a champion.

It is a sin to kill.

Half-witted.

Grew so fast,

his brain hit the top of the stable.

Behold, she stands

with her gown hung loose.

Framed is her face in golden tresses...

...reflecting the milk-white beauty

of her shoulders.

So it was that Venus stood before Mars,

welcoming her lover.

Nothing do I see that is not perfection.

You're in service to this household,

I take it?

Very much so.

- Your name?

- Lygia.

Lygia. Lygia, you're a windfall.

I shall sacrifice a dozen white doves

to Venus to commemorate our meeting.

Your sacrifice

will be in vain, commander.

By the gods, the old general

must know a good slave market.

Not only beauty, but spirit as well.

There are no slaves in this household.

The old general, as you call him...

...well, I have the honor

and the joy to be his daughter.

I crave your pardon.

Three years in the field

have dulled my perceptions.

Truly, I'm sorry, Lygia.

Will you forgive me?

You've done nothing

to ask forgiveness for.

For a long time,

the only women I've seen or known...

...have been poor, dull barbarians,

very uninspiring.

Barbarians?

I've heard the women of Britain and Gaul

are most beautiful.

Lygia, I'm forced to tell you...

...that the women of Britain

cover themselves with deer fat.

I'd say that was

an understandable desire to be warm.

The warmth is not transferable,

I assure you. Only in its aroma.

And as for the women of Gaul...

...well, their hair is like

the frazzled ends of rope.

Not a soft, red-gold crown

with stars in it.

And their palm was

the hide of a wild boar.

- Not like this soft...

- At least that proves they are diligent.

Yes, at building mud huts.

But not in bringing

a man's thoughts to life.

I'm not sorry at all.

- Sorry?

- That Petronius arranged my stay here.

If things go as fate surely meant,

the man should be decorated.

If you will excuse me,

I must decorate the table.

And so you see, sir,

you can understand my problem.

We were outnumbered at least...

- Well, wouldn't you say three to one?

- Easily.

I drew up the spearmen in a formation

much like the Macedonian phalanx.

Let me tell you, your barbarous Briton...

...is as worthy an opponent

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