The Fall of the Roman Empire Page #5

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But my fears are reasonable.

The east, Lucilla,

is where our danger lies.

We must make an alliance

that will show the whole world

what value Rome places on

her eastern frontier.

An alliance with Armenia.

And so...

Caesar must give his daughter

in marriage

to the king of Armenia.

I had hoped the gods would be kind.

I had hoped you would not

have to marriage without love.

Father...

You know better than anyone

what a marriage without love can mean.

Yes.

Yes. I do.

I know you love me.

Therefore...

Therefore, if you ask me,

it can only mean that you must

have tried with all your strength

to find another way.

Yes,s I have.

And you could not?

No...

I could not.

Therefore, it must be time.

Thus...

does Rome punish cowards!

Stop this!

Stop this! Stop this!

You call us cowards?

Let 20 of your men fight 20 of ours

if they dare, and then see who are cowards.

Move out of the way!

No one touches Verilus!

I am commander of the northern army.

Continue the punishment.

I will not permit this!

Withdraw, Commodus!

I cannot.

Nor can I.

Then let the gods decide.

Yes, the omens have been bad.

Bad for whom?

For us? for Rome?

At least here we can speak clearly.

What would you like, Julianas?

That the gods send us written messages

advising us on each small move we make?

Is the murder of an emperor

a small move?

Murder?

Caesar is dying and knows it.

At any moment, he will disinherit

Commodus and proclaim

Livius his heir.

Once he does that, publicly,

what hope is there for us?

To kill Caesar!

Does Commodus know?

Commodus does not know.

He must never know.

Caesar is guarded.

There are so many close to him.

How can it be done?

Quite easily.

We all of us know that Caesar loves fruit.

Apples.

Now, this blade carries a deadly poison,

on the side with the carved snake.

Cut fruit with it, an apple.

Offer the poisoned half to Caesar.

Eat the other half for yourself

and then, long live the emperor, Commodus.

It could be done

before hundreds of witnesses.

No one could be suspected.

From whom will Caesar accept fruit?

Who is close enough to him?

I am.

You?

You are blind.

I have only to feel the blade

to know which side.

And who better than a blind man?

Are you a man to enjoy

an irony, Marcus Aurelius?

Look well then

at the emperor of all Rome

become no better than a slave.

And who or what is your master?

Slave!

A small point in your side.

Perhaps no larger than

a grain of wheat.

Of what use is your wisdom now?

No answer?

Think of all you have read

and pondered over the years.

And the talk, Marcus Aurelius.

The hours of talk with your friend,

Timonides.

Surely it must have prepared you

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