Previously on The Borgias...
This pope is a lecherous abomination!
The vultures are circling our family. We must protect ourselves.
(Della Rovere) I am about to invite an army to march south.
An invasion.
- What do you want of Florence? - Nothing.
- That will cost you something. - You are a Borgia spy.
- Lucrezia must marry. - She is just a child.
If our families were to unite, central Italy would be secure.
Giovanni Sforza, we welcome you to the city of Rome.
The pope does not ask you to love your future husband, merely to marry him.
What if my husband proves ungallant?
- (Cesare) Do my eyes deceive me? - Ursula Bonadeo.
- Your husband? - Yes.
- You are tied to him? - Unless someone can deliver me.
You bring a whore to your sister's wedding?
There is a response to such an insult, but it would not be appropriate here.
- Elsewhere then? - I am afraid you can count upon it.
- My lady. - My thanks.
My husband's hands, will they be soft?
(Giovanni Sforza) I have words for that Borgia wedding. A farce.
A public humiliation.
- Well, we're married now. - (Screams)
Watch over my daughter. I pray that I have made the right decision for her.
(Whispers) Lucrezia.
What have I done?
Will God ever forgive me?
God may forgive you, Father, but I never will.
(Whispers) Lucrezia.
(Sobs)
(Sobs) Lucrezia!
(Crackling)
(Screams) Lucrezia!
(Gasping)
(Sighs)
Well, you didn't snore.
But you wept...
all night.
That has to stop.
And you bled, thank God.
A virgin.
You must be... unique in your family.
"A Borgia," they said. "Is that how little I am valued?" I said.
"The pope's daughter," they said.
"For shame," I said.
Your dowry was worthy of a princessa.
- Lucrezia Borgia Sforza. - (Sobs)
Do you hunt?
No?
Well, that's good.
Then we need hardly see each other.
Except when marital duties call, and...
then I'll... I'll keep them brief...
and businesslike.
(Door opens)
(Door slams)
(Sobs)
Oh, go away.
Do nightmares ever plague the Vice-Chancellor?
Hm. The very office is a nightmare, Your Holiness,
of, er, plots, petty intrigues and petitions,
which I do my utmost to keep from your presence.
I need your assurance...
of the welfare of my daughter...
in the castle of your cousin, Giovanni Sforza.
You suspect she is ill-used?
Our nightmares tell us so.
He will be putty in her soft hands, Your Holiness.
Yes, he inherited the Sforza name,
the Sforza wealth,
but none of its vigour.
And the Sforza appetite for intrigue?
Hmm. Yes, well. Yes, that he did inherit.
But, er, intrigue is no match for Borgia intelligence,
as all Rome has discovered.
So... I need your further assurance that...
he and another cousin,
the Duke of Milan, will be constant in their support...
for our papacy.
We have merged...our fortunes
with the Sforza name.
The consequence...
of that trust being betrayed...
would be most severe.
Do you speak to me as Vice-Chancellor, Your Holiness?
No.
As a Sforza!
(Distant bells)
(Cesare) My eyes...
You can believe them, Cardinal.
I asked to confess to you, in person.
But I must confess, I have nothing to confess.
Then why?
Because I had to see you.
And I had to see you, but...
couldn't you have chosen a more personable venue?
There was an altercation at your sister's wedding. A promise of a reckoning.
I would beg you to desist from pursuit of your mother's honour.
You may know little of me,
but those who know me know that I remember such things.
You are concerned for your husband's safety?
For yours.
He is a brute, a condotierre,
the veteran of many battles.
Your calling is the Church, not the sword.
If you were harmed...
I could not forgive myself.
I could not...perhaps...live.
You care so much for one you hardly know?
Yes.
It is a puzzle.
Or a mystery.
Your visage is before my eyes when I'm asleep,
when I wake,
when I close them.
I thought my eyes deceived me. Now I think, mine ears.
Neither.
Bring your lips close to mine, Cardinal.
I would feel your breath.
And I would kiss you, but for this barrier between us.
God is watching.
As the Bible tells us,
He is a jealous God.
There may always be a barrier between us.
But if you promise me you will not put yourself in harm's way,
then my heart's kiss will be yours.
I promise then.
I will not put myself in harm's way.
But you asked for deliverance, Ursula Bonadeo.
The Lord will decide my fate
and it will be my fate to accept.
But now I must leave before my soul flies from these lips.
(Cesare) You loved my father.
Fool that I am, my son,
perhaps I love him still.
(Cesare) Can it be cured?
(Vanozza) No.
It can be endured,
embraced and suffered.
You are suffering, my son?
I have met a woman, Mother.
Who is married.
And she makes you suffer.
(Sighs) Perhaps she suffers too.
She does.
But if I can rid her of her impediment...
She will be yours?
To endure a life like you did, Mother.
You could leave the Church.
And displease your father.
If you dare.
I fear nothing, Mother.
(Whinnying)
(Woman) I hope you will enjoy them.
(Man) Baronessa.
- Thank you. - Dio ti benedica.
- God bless you, my lady. - Thank you.
Sister, we need you in the infirmary.
(Ursula) How did you find me?
(Cesare) I have my spies.
(Ursula) And they told you...
(Cesare) There was a vision, on a white horse,
that rides out every morning between prime and terce.
I am observed then.
As are we.
My husband does insist I am accompanied.
Can they be discreet?
I see no need for discretion.
No need.
Why do you have spies, Cardinal?
A cardinal must have spies.
Does it displease you that I searched you out?
No. Far from it.
There are many things that please me about you, Cardinal.
Among them, the fact that you are a cardinal.
Can you explain?
If I can find the words.
Your priestly collar... makes me hope my heart is safe.
Because I am not fully in command of it.
So the fact that you are a cardinal pleases me, as it distresses me.
I thought I would not be cardinal for today.
Then my heart is in danger.
Would you endanger it, Cardinal Borgia?
I would put it in fear of its life.
But I would never harm it.
That sounds like a riddle.
Are you good at riddles, Cardinal Borgia?
Sadly, I must live in one.
As must I.
(Whinnying)
(Gasps)
(Door opens)
(Door slams)
And your name is?
Francesca.
What do you know of marriage, Francesca?
I know, my lady...
it should not be thus.
It was retrieved from a confessional in Florence.
And it was not used for opening letters?
No, Your Eminence.
It was found impaled in the eye of a mendicant friar.
And who impaled him?
The one we commanded him to follow.
Can you do nothing right?
Blink once...
and you will be eyeless.
And I would still serve you without one eye, Your Eminence.
And without two.
So we lost him and you know not where?
Milan.
You should wear a clown's hat.
Della Rovere has left Florence.
With or without satisfaction?
(Juan) We have the papal armies, the Sforza armies, our allies in the Romagna
all under my command.
To hell with Florence!
My fear is... the cardinal would invite apocalypse.
He would open the seven seals.
(Cesare) No, Father. Let us not talk in metaphors.
My fear is...
he would go to France,
conspire with the French to invade us,
arrange free passage of their armies through the Republic of Florence,
- through the Duchy of Milan. - And the French King would...?
Depose you... march south to Naples.
His armies are hardened by a 100 years of battle with England.
There is nothing here to match them.
Duke Ludovico Sforza of Milan.
He is cousin to our sister's husband, Giovanni Sforza.
(Snorts) Lucrezia did not marry Ludovico Sforza, brother.
And they don't call him il Moro for nothing.
I hear he keeps his own cousin caged beneath his castle floors.
He would betray us in a moment if he thought his dukedom was in peril.
What he fears...
is that his nephew will wear his crown.
Well...
perhaps we should threaten them with just that possibility.
And you should go to Florence...
tease out their intentions.
Those Medici bankers...
have a preacher...
Savonarola...
who accuses them of usury.
Perhaps we should offer them an excommunication...
public burning...
if they support our just cause.
They call me il Moro, Cardinal.
Can you imagine why?
Because of Your Highness' dark complexion?
Because of my cunning.
Like the Moors of old,
I outwit them all.
You will have given my proposal the grace of your cunning then?
Hmm...
(Chuckles)
You...
wish me...
to grant French arms safe passage...
through the Duchy of Milan.
(Chuckles)
But why would the French King march south, hm?
Because, most honourable duke,
of his claims on the Kingdom of Naples.
Ah! The great game of Naples.
Everybody...wants Naples.
My nephew...
Gian Galeazzo!
..thinks it part of his inheritance.
But then... (Chuckles)
He thinks Milan is his, hm?
Am I right, nephew?!
You think it Christian...
to have him so caged?
Oh...
Until he comes to his senses.
Who am I?!
You are...Ludovico Sforza.
I am not the Duke of Milan?!
That title is mine.
Mine!
Admit it! And you'll have wine to drink!
(Groans)
Politics is a delicate game.
So I observe, my lord.
You, Cardinal?
Have you come to liberate him?
I have come to ask for the safe passage of French arms.
Indeed.
From the Duke of Milan. (Chuckles)
Well, Cardinal,
I will consider it.
- (Bell tolls) - (Woman) Fresh bread!
(Man) Cabbages this way! More cabbages for your money! Over here!
(Woman) Bread! Fresh bread here!
(Man) Florence, the time will come...
when all your finery,
goods, and chattels will profit you nothing.
You have lived in usury, Florence, like pigs in heat!
The riches of your banking may astound the world,
but one day they will be your undoing!
Owing to your avarice,
neither you nor your children lead a good life.
You have already discovered many devices of gaining money...
It was rumoured a cardinal had graced Florence with his presence.
(Friar) ..which you call just,
- and are most unjust! - And you are?
Niccolo Machiavelli. Ambassador to the House of Medici.
(Friar) ..corrupted the magistrates and their functions.
This friar would burn your Florence to the ground.
Not quite.
Oh, no one can persuade you it is sinful to lend at usury!
He would reduce us to his own status.
- (Friar) ..and make unjust bargains... - Which is?
- A pile of straw on a monastery floor. - (Friar) You defend yourselves!
He disapproves of display...
ornament...
artistry.
Even comfort.
(Friar) ..take shame to himself...
Perhaps Cardinal Cesare Borgia can be of some help.
He would meet with my master, Piero de Medici?
- (Friar) ..fools who refrain from it. - No. He would meet with you, Ambassador.
- (Friar) Thus, fulfil the sayings of Isaiah... - Aha.
A conspiracy then.
- (Friar) ..declare their sin as Sodom... - No.
More like...
- an inquisition. - (Friar) ..and of Jeremiah...
- (Friar) "Thou hast a whore's forehead." - Perhaps you should follow me.
(Friar) "Thou refusest to be ashamed."
(Cesare) Another cardinal came through here some days ago.
He left his mark, I believe, on a confessional door.
There was a friar found murdered.
But that cardinal claimed to be a man of peace.
We all do, Signor Machiavelli.
You make the same claims?
For the moment.
But I would hazard, if this cardinal passed through Florence
he did more than pinion a mendicant friar to a confessional door.
- You would? - Yes.
I would hazard he met with the Florentine ambassador and his master, de Medici.
And if he did?
I would hazard there was a purpose to that meeting.
The purpose being?
That Florence unite with his cause.
No. On the contrary. He asked for nothing.
Nothing?
Or, to be more specific, he asked that Florence...
do...nothing.
He requested that Florence do nothing...
in the event of a great something.
You are far too clever for a cardinal.
The times have made me so.
He requested that Florence do nothing,
and allow a great passage of arms through its republic.
Perhaps.
And Florence promised him?
Why should I tell you what Florence told him?
I could perhaps ensure that instead of your beautiful Florence,
Friar Savonarola himself...burns.
(Snorts)
An impressive offer.
So... Florence offered the good cardinal...?
What he offered Florence.
Nothing.
So the arms of France cannot pass through your fair republic?
In a sentence.
And if these times have made you clever,
the coming months may thrust genius upon you.
My lord is... (Giggles)
- My lady. - Forgive me for startling you.
My lord is hunting.
Would my lady have me saddle a horse so she can ride out after him?
There is nothing your lady would like less.
He is a good huntsman, your lord?
No deer is safe from him.
Pity the poor deer then.
But at least their agony ends.
Yes. He's a clean killer.
And your name is?
Paolo.
Your shirt is torn, Paolo.
Would you like me to stitch it?
I could never ask, my lady.
And stop this "my lady" nonsense.
My name is Lucrezia.
Say it.
Lucrezia...
my lady.
In summation, Your Holiness, I...
I would reiterate His Highness' pleasure at the possibility of an union
between the Kingdom of Navarre and the Borgia family.
Between the Gonfaloniere Juan Borgia
and his beloved niece, the Princess Sylvia,
whose portrait is now my pleasure to present to the Papal Court.
We thank His Royal Highness.
And if this depiction does justice to the Princess Sylvia,
then her beauty...
is indeed without compare.
Her reputation... does precede her.
We will consider your gracious suit in the fullness of time.
And do the horses have names, Paolo?
Indeed they do, my lady.
- Lucrezia. - My lady Lucrezia.
This is Diablo.
The devil.
Yes.
He was the devil for speed until he tumbled on a break and shattered his hoof.
And now?
His fire is gone entirely.
He will end up pulling hay.
There are worse fates, Paolo.
And this one?
An Arab mare.
Fatima.
One could not have them in the same stable when he was in his prime.
- But after his break... - He was chastened.
He is like a mare himself now, my lady.
Lucky Fatima.
She can sleep well at night.
Show me your hands, Paolo.
Bring them here.
I would touch them.
Soft.
Will they be hard some day?
I know not, my lady.
Lucrezia.
♪ I took a bow and aimed it low ♪
You know it?
(Together) ♪ And caught you on the chin, chin, chin
♪ My mother said Now go to bed
♪ I'll have to lock you in, in, in ♪
My lady...
Lucrezia.
Say it.
Lucrezia.
(Juan) She is ugly, Father.
(Pope) No more than all the others.
(Juan) They're all ugly.
I'll marry none of them.
Second-rate royalty, cousins of half-brothers of princes.
I'll marry a king's daughter or nothing.
Nothing, I'm afraid, is not an option, my dear son.
Let Joffre marry instead.
King Ferrante of Naples has an illegitimate daughter.
Sancia.
And the pope does need some security in Naples.
A union between you and Sancia...
could have some benefits.
Are you deaf, Father? She is the half-bred bastard of an ailing dotard.
Let Joffre marry her.
I will marry a true princess, or I will take my pleasures where I find them.
Go on.
(Laughter)
- (Girl) Your Holiness. - Forgive me, Cardinal.
I...had hoped to find you alone.
- Your Holiness, my cousin was just... - Your cousin?
Gabriella Visconti, at your service.
A Sforza?
- Twice removed. - Well, we would hope more than twice.
Well, Cardinal, you are awash with cousins...
which is why we wish to speak with you.
At Your Holiness's pleasure.
We would discuss another cousin,
in whose hands the survival of our papacy may lie.
- Your Holiness refers to the Duke of Milan? - Indeed.
Cardinal Della Rovere heads there as we speak.
- Well, if I can be of any assistance... - You could disembowel the dear cardinal.
(Chuckles)
Does the office of Vice-Chancellor extend so far?
To include executions? Sadly not.
But you could inform your cousin, the Duke of Milan,
that we could well see the justice of his nephew's cause...
should the Duke choose to act against our wishes.
(Water splashing)
Is your betrothed old, Francesca?
Nine months older than me, my lady.
You are lucky then.
The older male is like a boar.
He bristles with hair.
And when he doesn't beat...
he thrusts.
Did he beat last night?
No, but he thrusted.
I counted 27 of them.
- 32 the night before. - Already, more bearable.
You must quicken his pleasure.
Is that possible?
Indeed. You can reduce it to single figures.
And for the sake of one's own endurance...
I find it helps to count.
- To count? - Sheep.
Sancia of Naples.
- What of her? - Is she beautiful?
In the Neapolitan way.
Ooh. What way is that, my love?
Dark.
Sicilian. Almost Moorish.
And I have heard her temper... is Sicilian too.
Would she make...a bride for...
Juan?
A match made in...
- Where? - Wherever such matches are made.
No, not Juan.
Juan will do what Juan will do.
Cesare?
- Now that would be... - No, you know Cesare can never marry.
No, for...
for Joffre.
Good God.
Will you never stop?
Never.
You are going to ensnare the whole of Europe
in your progeny.
What else are families for, hm?
Ah! Four, five, six, seven, eight!
What? What are you saying?
I am counting, my lord!
- Counting? - Sheep, my lord.
Could you count in silence?
(He grunts)
(Grunting continues)
Counting sheep.
Can she sleep now?
I truly hope so.
(Ludovico) You disappoint me, Cardinal.
We are family, after all.
If I am your cousin, my liege,
I am also cousin to your cousin,
Gian Galeazzo, who lays claim to your throne.
This Borgia pope threatens...
No, His Holiness does not threaten.
His Holiness merely reminds the Duke of where his best interests lie.
- And in the event of a French invasion... - He would pretend to see the justice
- of this pretender's cause... - As we would hope that you would see...
(Growls)
A champion! At last, you snivelling pretender,
you have a champion!
You would release him, Cardinal?
My lord, I would not be so precipitant...
No, but I insist! Release him!
Have him dine with us tonight.
What is it you hunger for most?!
Freedom.
And pheasant.
So, Cardinal...
let us feed... that hunger of his, hmm?
(Kisses)
Freedom and pheasant it is.
(Ludovico) He wolfs his pheasant so. (Chuckles)
Mother never taught him manners.
Another.
Indeed.
You are the Duke now, are you not?
(Chuckles) Have mine.
And you, cousin Cardinal,
can tell that Borgia pope,
- that Catalan clown... - (Gian chokes)
..that Spanish nonentity that marries his bastard daughter to my cousin
and thinks he will buy my friendship!
Tell him he will never have it!
Tell him I will welcome...
French arms with open arms of my own!
Spit it out!
Poison!
Gluttony, more like.
(Chuckles)
Duke for an hour.
Undone by his table manners.
(Chuckles)
You have no servants?
Thank you, my lady.
Some tasks one must perform oneself.
- Such as? - Distribution of alms.
In the convent of St Cecilia there are many hungry souls.
I stand in awe, Ursula Bonadeo.
Of what? Of loaves of bread?
Of goodness.
- Would that I were good. - Don't move so quickly.
What is that mark under that veil?
I beg you, heed it not. It is in his nature.
So it seems.
And it is not in yours. So heed it not.
Forget him and forget me.
You cannot stand for this.
The groom saw. The groom talked. My husband struck. It's what husbands do.
You must free yourself.
He rides to Ostia tomorrow night.
For two days, I will be free.
You requested these, Your Eminence.
Yes.
Since I have become eminent, I have grown indolent.
I believe one goes with the other, Your Eminence.
Call me Borgia this good morning.
And I shall call you Baron.
Baron?
Yes.
I made a promise to a favoured lady
that I would not put myself in harm's way. So...
put me in harm's way.
Come on, Baron,
I would see your best.
Now, my best...
would break your promise, Borgia.
Show me then.
(Grunts)
One blade is never enough, Your Eminence.
Yes.
And eminence has dulled my edge.
Again.
(Lucrezia) Where does he hunt?
In the high mountain passes.
He is brave with those deer.
Perhaps.
But they suffer less than me, do they not?
- He kills them quickly. - Do you suffer?
- Nightly. - It must stop.
It is a crime against...
Against what?
Against you.
Your beauty.
You are the pope's daughter. How can he stand it?
The pope doesn't know.
If I could write, I would send him a letter.
(Whinnying)
Am I beautiful, Paolo?
You are the most beautiful thing I have yet seen.
Lift me down.
I could adjust his saddle.
You could adjust my lord's saddle.
He would fall.
He would break.
He would return home...
tamed.
Broken.
- What if he died? - From a fall? He would never.
What if I had you whipped for wickedness?
You would never.
- Are you sure? - Yes.
Of that I am sure.
The cardinal was shocked to the core.
Apparently...
he dropped dead right in front of him at the Duke's table.
Poison.
So it is rumoured.
Gluttony, it is said.
But the result's the same.
If the French army moves
it'll have free passage through Milan.
And the only force to stop it will be Florence.
And Florence can hardly stand alone.
No...
I think it might be time to give Naples what they want.
An alliance?
Better than that.
A wedding!
Who this time, Father? Me?
(Snorts)
- (Lucrezia) Five. - (Giovanni grunts)
Six. (Whimpers)
- Seven. - (Grunts)
(Sobs) Eight.
- Nine. - (Grunts)
Eleven. (Whimpers)
- Twelve. (Whimpers) - (Grunts)
(Whinnying)
My wife is to receive no visitors in my absence.
(Man) Yes, my lord.
You should let me deal with him, Your Eminence.
Did he insult your mother?
Then we should both do it.
Where would the valour be in that?
Or the pleasure?
No.
I shall do this...
alone.
An accident, my lady.
The Lord Sforza.
(Purring)
You, Cardinal, have been nosing round my wife.
And you, Baron, slandered my mother.
You mean the Spanish whore?
I mean my mother.
From the whorehouse to the Vatican is quite a journey.
But it ends...here!
(Horse whinnies)
- (Cesare grunts) - (Bonadeo groans)
- (Cesare grunts) - (Bonadeo) Argh!
(Croaking)
Your wife prayed for liberation.
Libera me, Domine, de morte aeterna.
You never forget your first.
- Lift! - I felt the life go from him.
Better him than you. At least you're still breathing.
Was I in harm's way, Micheletto?
Not for a moment, Your Eminence.
- Leave me alone! - It is a break, my lord, but you will survive it.
Water, please.
A muslin cloth and a splint, a piece of wood between his teeth.
My husband!
Forgive me, my lord. You will feel some pain.
- Be brave, my husband. - On the count of three.
One, two...
- three. - (Crack)
(Screams)
(Panting)
You killed this man with grace, Your Eminence. You should be proud.
Will I be thanked for it?
In my experience...one rarely is.
A thankless task then.
The river will be grateful for him, Your Eminence.
It loves a skewered corpse.
(Splash)