As Vorenus and Pullo ride through the camp, Vorenus spits on the ground in contempt. "Your spit dries fast here, brother," Pullo advises. "Best to save it." They ride past a couple of crucified corpses. I wait for Vorenus to do a horrified double-take, but none of the blackening carcasses appear to be of Vorenian descent. Small favors.
Pullo and Vorenus arrive in the procurator's tent, and Pullo tells the gravel-voiced, smirking gnome behind the desk that they're there to retrieve some runaways who got sold here. "Two girls," Vorenus says. "And a boy," Pullo adds pointedly. He has to admit that they don't have any papers, and the procurator grins knowingly, guessing, "Two soldiers out for some young cunny, eh?" Vorenus is mortally offended, which means that the procurator's about to be mortally thumped, but Pullo manages to keep his friend on his leash for now. And then he spins a real yarn, claiming that the slaves in question are "the private property of Gaius Caesar Octavian himself." He says something suggestive about feeding them biscuits in bed, "especially the boy." I can't imagine that Octavian will be too thrilled to hear about this tale if it gets back to him. The procurator's doubtful, even when Pullo produces his scroll with Octavian's seal on it. "What is it, an otter?" the procurator wonders. Heh. "It's a fucking sphinx! Mark of Caesar!" Pullo snaps. He says that the sealant is actually mud from Mutina, and that they came straight from the battlefield, which should demonstrate the urgency of the situation. The procurator still isn't convinced. Pullo plays his ace: "Are you calling me a liar?" The procurator gives in.
Pullo, Vorenus, and the procurator enter a kitchen shack, where they quickly find an old woman making stew. Sitting next to the old woman, slowly peeling a turnip? Is Vorena the Younger. Vorenus goes to her, calling her "daughter," and telling her that he's her father. She doesn't seem to have much of a reaction, even when he hugs her fiercely and kisses her head. Aw. So much for being gentle, though. Vorenus looks up, and Little Lucius is there. Upon seeing his mother's husband, he drops a sack of grain that was too big for him to carry in the first place and stares at his mother's husband with frozen terror. Nobody says a word for a very long time. Vorenus goes to him, and the kid tries to make a break for it, but Vorenus grabs him by the shoulder. The silence stretches out. Vorenus holds him in place, trying to keep his glower steady, but after a couple of helpless Wookiee-like head-cocks, Vorenus finally sweeps the boy up into an emotional embrace. Again aw. Little Lucius looks at Vorenus in confusion, relief and joy. Or maybe the five-year-old actor is just thinking, "Do I have a line here?" After witnessing this protracted and emotional scene, the procurator makes a stunning deductive leap, protesting, "You're not slave-catchers!" It was probably a bad idea for him to remind Vorenus of his existence, such as it is. Still holding Little Lucius, Vorenus turns to the procurator and angrily asks, "Where's my daughter?" The other one, he means. Too bad the kids can't talk yet.