Out in the sunlit street, the wedding procession is making its joyous way through the streets. The plebs cheer and clap as the parade crosses the Forum. Herod is among them, of course, and Timon and Levi spot him from their position near one of the buildings. Timon also spots Julii Cooper, which may remind him of how he ended up back here in the first place, about to kill again. Levi's ready to make their move, but Timon grabs him and pulls him back, saying that he can't do it after all. Killing Herod won't accomplish anything, he says. They'll just replace him with someone else. Timon certainly has proceeded rapidly along the zealot's learning curve, hasn't he? "I have a wife," Timon says. "I have children." Levi calls Timon a coward and heads off to commit the murder himself. Timon grabs him back, but Levi's already got his knife out, and they grapple over the weapon, still unnoticed by the cheering throng. After a moment, Timon pushes his brother against a column, and the knife goes in. Oopsie. "Brother!" Timon gasps in horror as the knife clangs to the ground. "You are not my brother," Levi gasps through a mouthful of blood, and expires in Timon's arms. Bummer. Didn't see that coming. But I'm glad it turned out this way instead of the other way around. Lee Boardman has proven to be an excellent actor, and Levi's kind of irritating.
Later that night, Octavia and Antony are in bed together, lying on their backs with their hands folded on their chests, staring up at the ceiling. Never one to be discouraged by an awkward moment, Antony reminds Octavia that it is their wedding night, after all, in a tone that suggests that mini-Mark Antony is in the mood for a little, uh, unity. "Do as you like," Octavia sighs. Antony's like, "Well, all righty, then," and casually signals her to get up on all fours. He gets up on his knees behind her, spits on his dick, and awkwardly starts trying to put it in. So this is sex in a political marriage? No wonder it went out of style.
Meanwhile, Antony's new mother-in-law (I don't think I'm going to get tired of that for a while) is pacing around her empty house in her robe. She wanders out into the street and stares at the spot where Servilia died, that curse of hers replaying in her head. Tough to disregard it on a day like today.
It's daytime again, and we're in the ancient Roman equivalent of the Magic Box. Gaia enters the store with her head uncharacteristically covered, asking for a couple of herbs I don't know how to spell. The apothecary immediately knows what they are, though. She cuts a look at Gaia's hands clasped over her flat belly, and observes, "You caught it early." So we're talking about something like RU-CDLXXXVI, I take it. The apothecary measures out some powders, telling Gaia to drink it before bed: "And when you wake in the morning, problem is over." All over, if the previews for next week are any indication. Gaia asks how it tastes, and the apothecary says that if she puts it in willow tea, it's practically undetectable. She also offers some horsetail for the bleeding, but Gaia sneers that she won't be needing any of that. The apothecary looks briefly worried that maybe Gaia's procuring these pregnancy-ending herbs for someone other than herself, but then she snaps her fingers for some coins, and Gaia hands some over. She leaves, glancing at her distorted reflection in a mirror she's passing. Ooh, arty. And evil.