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Pedro Luis, Juan. My sons, you have come back to me.
Yes, Papa.
Death has not withered you. But tell me...
who is guilty of your murders? Speak true.
Who is responsible?
You.
Your love for us. Your ambition.
You have ruined the name of Borgia. Betrayed the name of God.
No. I say no.
Rodrigo...
They accused me. I am innocent.
My sons.
My God, what have I done?
Am I still Pope?
In name, yes.
In more than name. I will be Pope again in more than name.
Return to the palace. I will dispose of these.
Don't. Stop. Stop, you're killing me.
Stop. Untie me, Contessa.
Eight months you've been in Naples. And eight months I've shared your bed.
You are bored with me.
Your fingers have taken me to an ecstasy I've not known.
And yet you never let me satisfy you.
I am a wastrel. A laughable imitation of my brother Juan.
How easily I have lost my way.
My destiny.
To be not merely Cesare, but Caesar.
Such glory is hard to achieve. Especially when you're mired here in Naples.
Not if I become King of Naples.
You are a cardinal. You cannot be a king.
My father is a king. Rex et sacerdos. He rules the Papal States.
- Who? - Eminence.
My sister and I were sent to tell you uncle is waiting.
Uncle wants his Mass.
Deus, a quo bona cuncta procedunt.
Largire supplicibus tuis: Ut cogitemus
te inspirante, quae recta sunt
et te gubernante, eadem faciamus
Per Dominum nostrum Jesum Christum
qui vivit et regnat Deus in saecula saeculorum.
Amen.
We celebrate the Feast of Saint Valentinus.
A priest in the early Church. A martyr.
He who advocated love was rewarded with hatred.
We must endeavor to emulate the spirit of the man.
Even if he did not exist.
The founding fathers of our faith stole the holiday from pagans.
The Roman festival of Lupercalia.
A fertility ritual. An excuse for fucking.
Must we pretend we are something we are not?
Does God not wish each of us to be who He intended us to be?
I paid 12,000 ducats so that Borgia bastard could come and crown me.
Since the coronation I'm paying for his whole household.
Including 300 ravenous drunken bravi.
He lives like a pagan and now preaches like one.
- Majesty... - Go to Rome.
Tell the Pope his son must leave for Valencia or return home.
He must leave Naples before I'm bled dry or pilloried for harboring a heretic.
Before Mass, he informed me he wishes to marry your daughter, Carlotta.
What? No. No.
- Let me see. - No.
The rain has barely drained away and yet now the streets are flooded with rumors.
Some say that when the lightning struck the statue...
they saw Michael the Archangel take wing and fly into the air.
My servants whisper these are omens from God predicting the fall of the Pope.
- How is Cesare? - He's summoned me back to Naples.
That is not an answer.
He still lives at the Neapolitan Royal Palace...
- defying the Pope's orders to leave Italy. - Good.
If Cesare goes to Spain, he will never be allowed to return.
I am surprised he doesn't stay in contact with you.
We are not as close as we once were.
He asked me to inquire about Lucrezia.
- She does obey the Pope's command. - She does not venture out?
Not even into the garden.
She never leaves her bedchamber.
Her pregnancy must be kept secret.
- The Pope intends to have her wed again. - Of course he does.
That is why ultimately he chose not to send her to Spain.
What Rodrigo will do with her baby, God only knows.
- Sweet Luis. - Bring the pecorino.
Yes, my lady.
I could live like this forever.
Oh, not me. I miss Rome.
Marvelous Rome.
- Do you, Alessandro? - Sometimes.
Sometimes that life seems a dream, a fairy tale.
- You are the only thing that is real. - Rome is real.
Power is real. Money is real.
Have some pecorino, mother.
You are hiding here, my son.
I'm fulfilling my duties as Archbishop of Orvieto.
- You are afraid of something. - Or someone.
- I am not. - Face your fears.
Go back to the Vatican. Advance your career.
Perpetuate our family.
Convince Rodrigo that he needs me.
- Give me some grapes, please. - Yes, Mama.
Holiness?
May I present Zosimos Aeneos.
He's a friar with the order of Saint Jerome.
- You're an alchemist then? - Yes, Most Holy Father.
But not all of us alchemists strive to turn base metal into gold.
I have described your condition.
- Friar Zosimos has concocted a cure. - Oil of Vitriolo.
I start with vitriolo romano, heated in a kiln.
Just two drops in a glass of sweet wine.
I warn you, the wine may have a burnt flavor.
Good for stomach pains, foul breath, poor eyesight, aging and...
melancholia.
Hold. Identification.
You see us daily, on our way to important papal business.
And every day you ask for us to identify ourselves.
My orders come from General De Córdova. No exceptions.
Look at us. The way we are dressed.
- We are princes of the Church. - Perhaps.
Or you could be French mercenaries in disguise brought in to kill the Pope.
Let them pass.
Gacet. Always Gacet.
Spanish assholes.
- They have been in Rome too long. - Their manner is barbaric.
- Even for Spaniards. - They saved us from King Charles.
- But I keep receiving news... - We must rid Rome of these invaders.
So that your friends, the French, will feel free to invade us again?
He never dared speak to you this way.
Since Juan Borgia's death Gacet has gained even more influence.
- Too much. - We must discredit Gacet.
- Destroy him. - My brothers.
We have been able to take great advantage of Borgia's weakened mind.
And we will continue to do so until he is but a puppet Pope.
Gacet is an insect to be crushed underfoot.
Some insects sting as they die.
Alessandro...
now that you have returned, here is your mission.
Uncover Gacet's darkest secret.
To have ready when we need a hammer.
Yeah.
Yes. Bravo.
Yes.
She does not even look at me.
- Carlotta? - Ah, I am hungry for her, Agapito.
- And I will wed her. - A wise manoeuvre.
By marrying the King's daughter, you're next in line.
My love for her coincides with my ambitions, exceeds my ambitions.
I thought I'd never love again, Agapito.
But there stands the reason you will not marry her, nor take the throne.
- She dotes on the French Duke. - Guy de Leval?
I am the better man.
- Excellent. You learn quickly. - I have an exceptional teacher.
You still haven't told me why a man dedicated to the Prince of Peace...
chooses to learn the art of death.
Against which enemy do you prepare to fight?
An enemy who was once a friend.
He's an expert killer. I fear next time he'll kill me.
Cesare Borgia.
General, I'm like a mountaineer trapped in a crevice.
I'm no longer an ally of the Borgia, but these men...
are worse than a Borgia.
Loyalty is not a commodity to be traded.
Your first and most sacred obligation is to the Kingdom of God.
Be true to your vow.
Precaució.
Holiness, give more thought to our restless cardinals.
They have only two goals.
Diminish papal authority and force the Spanish out, leaving you defenseless.
We want the Spaniards gone as much as Della Rovere.
Though we are Supreme Pontiff, De Córdova rules the Papal States.
In order to solidify our power, we must remove him and rebuild the Papal Guard.
For shortly after the Spanish depart, the French will come crashing down upon us.
So we need a reason for De Córdova to pull his army out of the city.
But not abandon the Italian peninsula.
- Rebellion in Sicily? - No.
He must head north to stand between us and King Charles.
Cardinal Carafa comes from Naples and seeks an audience on an urgent matter.
He comes to complain about Cesare. Tell him I'll...
No.
Bring him to us.
Aristotle wrote that a man is wisest when he's sixty.
Does wisdom come with survival?
- Ah, dear friend. - Blessed Father.
I need to talk to you about your son, Cesare.
- Your Grace. - Your Eminence.
I did not mean to interrupt, but we four were debating...
about whose athletes are superior, Naples' or Rome's?
- I'm curious what you think, dear Guy. - I do not know.
Naples has more beauty.
I will say this. Rome has better athletes than Paris.
Where were they when my cousin Charles marched his troops into Italy?
Oh, I'm not referring to armies, but of individual men.
Say, me and you.
- You are posing a challenge? - Yes.
A one on one competition. Any sport you chose.
- Guy, I do not want... - My darling.
No Borgia can hurt an Anjou.
- I accept. And you choose the sport. - Bullfight.
- Bullfight? - Are you afraid?
Guy, have you ever fought a bull?
No, but if the Spaniards do, how difficult could the effort be?
Our love will defeat this Catalan.
My secretary will meet with yours to set the time, place and terms.
Cesare, that was amazing.
You walked him step by step into your bear trap.
- He will certainly lose the bullfight. - Oh, he'll do more than that.
He will lose his life.
Go on. Forwards.
- Are you alright, My Lord? - Go away.
Look at that.
Lucrezia?
- I have come to wish you happy dreams. - And to you.
My love, let me in. To kiss you good night.
Thank you, but no. I deserve no kisses.
Only darkness.
Please, I ask you again. Why do you think that way? What have you done?
If you unburden your soul, you will feel free of your sin.
I have confessed once already, to Cesare.
As a result, my world died.
- Sweet child, I love you. - Good night.
Good night.
His Highness Kasim Bey, Governor of Icel...
envoy extraordinaire, representing Bajazet the Second...
Padashah of the Turks.
Silence.
Supreme Pontiff of the Roman Church...
I bring you greetings from my master, Bajazet...
the Refuge of the World.
He has instructed me to present to you, in deep respect...
with these gifts...
the finest our magnificent empire has to offer.
We are grateful for Bajazet's generosity.
And hope we may continue the peace and harmony which exist between us.
Peace and harmony.
I do not believe Bajazet is interested in anything but conquest.
Kasim Bey seems sincere.
We want you to find out for certain if he is sincere.
Borgia must name a new Vice Chancellor.
You are mad to think he'd choose you.
Then we must find someone who will collaborate with us.
Alessandro, what deep and grim secret have you discovered about Gacet?
I have found none.
He is truly innocent or he seals off all doors to his life.
No man who has known Rodrigo Borgia since childhood is an innocent.
You have failed us.
But I am undaunted.
I will expose Gacet.
Even if I must create the scandal myself.
Too bad, Farnese. For a fleeting moment, you were Vice Chancellor.
I don't understand, Rafaele.
You wept when the Pope spoke of his dead son.
A moment of weakness.
But a moment is all any of us can afford.
Pope Alexander, like Charlemagne, or Mehmet...
likes to anticipate the actions of both his enemies and his friends.
He studies the maps of Europe, of Asia.
Bajazet's lust for territory is endless, yet stymied.
Persia to the east, Egypt to the south...
Hungary and Tzar Ivan to the north, which leaves the west.
The Spanish are garrisoned in the Papal States, so Italy is also protected.
Well, not all of Italy.
His Holiness believes Bajazet will try to seize Venice.
Her islands of Zante and Cephalonia first.
You need not answer. The shift in your eyes confirms His Holiness is correct.
Our ships will be there imminently. Borgia can do nothing to stop them.
Venice considers herself above all other Italian cities.
When asked to join the Holy League to help the Pope, the Doge was indifferent.
Now Pope Alexander is indifferent.
He's giving us permission to attack?
We must convince De Córdova to take his troops to Venice.
And he must act on impulse.
If he waits for permission from Madrid, we'll all be in our tombs.
- What do we know about him? - He fought with your son at Rondo.
He negotiated a peace with the Muslim emirate.
No, what do we know about him as a person? His sexual appetites, his...
- Is he superstitious? - I'll find out.
And then summon young Farnese.
I cannot tell which is worse. My wretched singing or my lousy lute playing.
My composition would sound better if there were stronger voices and fingers.
Although, in my opinion, the frotolla as a musical form has had its day.
- We must continue to experiment, yes? - This is the home of Fiametta Michaelis?
No. Well, yes, I guess.
- But where is she? - She's gone. An hour ago. With her son.
To visit relatives in Pisa. She'll return when the work is done. If it gets done.
- You're the builder? - No, I'm the benefactor.
- Pietro Bembo of Venice. - Bembo? The poet?
Yes. No. I try.
I talk about poetry better than I write it. And you're here to sell something?
- I came to see my grandson. - You're Vannozza Catanei.
I know your father. Jacopo, a brilliant man and artist.
In fact, he told me when I reached Rome to pay you a visit.
But, as usual, I got waylaid.
- I met Fiametta at your inn. - I hired her to take care of my son's son.
But I got a letter this morning that she had quit and opened her own house.
Oh, my fault.
I'm easily enticed to make unsound business ventures.
The curse of coming from a family with too much money.
The recklessness of coming from a family with no social standing.
We Bembo are no Orsini, no Borgia.
No purple in my veins. Only the red stuff. The red stuff.
Maestro Bembo...
would you care to dine at my villa this evening?
Dine with Vannozza Catanei, drink the best wines with fine art on display.
I want to discuss a serious matter with you.
I must have your word that what I say or what you see will remain confidential.
I give you a poet's oath, which, though metaphorical, is constant.
Pope Alexander ordered Lucrezia to go to Spain.
To join a convent. But something happened.
- She... - Became pregnant.
A poet listens to the sound of words, to find their deeper meaning.
I convinced him to allow her to stay here, hidden, until the birth of the child.
But as a result, Pietro, she has shrunk from the world.
From us, her family.
She locks herself in her suite, alone, mourning her brother and her lover.
- Grief is waste. - And a danger to the infant in her womb.
I have begged, I have screamed and I have wept...
but the door remains locked.
- And why do you tell me this? - I want you to lift her spirits.
Nothing more.
Fortunately, I brought my lute.
Do you ever wish to excel at something beyond measure?
And at each attempt, you get progressively worse?
- Pietro Bembo, your servant. - Go away.
Pietro Bembo, your disobedient servant.
- Did my mother send you? - I will answer if you tell me first:
What did you think of my song? The lyric, I mean.
- The tune still needs perfecting. - Beautiful.
- And so are you. - I see, you've come to fuck me.
Oh, no. No, no, no.
Physical depraved love must be bought and paid for...
so there is no expectation of commitment on either side.
Platonic love is perpetual, binding and more satisfying.
Cesare, you read a lot.
- What has you so enthralled? - Meditations, by Marcus Aurelius.
- What language is that? - Marcus Aurelius wrote it in Greek.
- The book has never been translated. - You understand Greek?
I was at the university in Pisa.
How much time does a man save...
if he does not look to see what his neighbor says or does or thinks?
If you are plagued by externals, it is not they which trouble you...
but the importance you give them.
Only a madman pursues the impossible.
- Who? - Princess Carlotta.
- Highness. - I am sorry, Contessa.
- I did not mean to disturb your leisure. - No, not at all. Please, come in.
Maria, did you not say you had a pressing engagement?
Yes.
Princess, you are neither in nor out.
- Please, be seated. - I think not.
Could we perhaps go for a walk in the gardens.
Splendid idea.
I've lived here 8 months and this is the first time you've honored me with a visit.
You will not be so honored when I tell you why I've come.
- I want you to cancel this bullfight. - Me? No.
- Guy must cancel. - I have tried to persuade him.
To the point of sounding like a shrew. But he will not withdraw. He's too stubborn.
I am a Borgia. We invented stubborn.
You have won many bullfights.
I saw you in Rome. You were magnificent.
Thank you, Princess.
A withdrawal by you will not harm your pride.
How little you understand men.
Our souls are tied, as if by an invisible cord, to our private parts.
For a man strength and courage are the be-all.
We have a need to protect our women and to prove to other men that we can.
Carlotta, Guy struggles to face up to the hard truth that he cannot protect you.
I can.
Carlotta...
I love you.
How is that possible? You don't know me beyond court ceremony and daily Mass.
I do know you. You became a part of my heart the first instant my eyes met yours.
Well, I don't know you. Except that you're a cardinal.
And I don't wish to be known as Madonna la Cardinalessa.
- I will cease to be a cardinal. - But you would still be a Borgia.
- I have heard rumors. - That is not me. That is my reputation.
Propagated by the jealous and the weak.
Carlotta, once you get to know me, you may come to love me.
To be honest, I am far from perfect.
But I already love Guy.
And my feelings for him are torrential.
Have you never felt that way about anyone before?
Then you know why I ask what I ask.
Yes, your withdrawal may cause you embarrassment.
But a man who has reason to be proud knows the truth of himself within himself.
Do you really care what others believe? They'll believe what they choose anyway.
You are wise and for that I love you more.
But I cannot change who I am. Even for the woman I love.
Then, in reality...
you do not truly know what love is.
- Lucrezia invited you? - Yes, she sent me a note...
to come at this hour.
What are you doing?
I don't want to leave this out there.
Some termite will steal it.
I feared you'd make me scale Vesuvius to reach you.
- Pietro Bembo? - Yes, born atop the Rialto.
- You are a writer by trade? - By trade I'm a dabbler.
Rich enough to indulge every whim.
Poor enough in talent to flounder from one discipline to the next.
I'm even studying for the priesthood. God help God.
- Do you play the flute? - Not well.
Then we must play together.
Perhaps our sour notes combined will turn vinegar...
into wine.
Go on, play something.
But you must appoint a new Vice Chancellor.
The Vatican at present is a body without a head.
Movement without purpose.
Too much work goes undone. Why are you waiting?
Why are you so impatient?
Are you not content nibbling at our power as a rat does cheese?
General Gonzalo Fernández De Córdova, military commander of the Papal States.
Beatitude, you have requested my presence.
Yes, great Captain. We want to share with you a dream we had last night.
- A dream? - A premonition.
In this dream we saw a golden lion...
being devoured by a green camel which floated on the water.
Then we saw you, great Captain.
Sword ablaze, the banner of Queen Isabella fluttering behind you.
You slayed the camel, saving the lion.
Beatitude, what could this mean?
- Holiness? - Yes, Cardinal Farnese.
At the university in Pisa we studied the Oneirocritica by Artemidorus...
in order to understand what lies behind the images of our dreams.
How lucky for us you are so well-educated, young Farnese.
- Can you interpret our dream? - I will try.
The green camel is perhaps Islam, approaching on the ship.
The lion is the symbol of Saint Mark and therefore Venice.
- He must save Venice from the Turks. - There has been no attack on Venice.
The islands of Zante and Cephalonia are under siege by a Muslim armada.
The Turks cannot defeat the Venetians.
Forty years ago, did we believe the Turks could conquer Constantinople?
That wound is still fresh and deep.
Emboldened by a victory over Venice, Bajazet will next violate Rome.
I will leave at once, Beatitude.
But I will need most, if not all of my forces to combat the heathens.
- That will leave Rome undefended. - The city will survive, Piccolomini.
We have already begun to reorganize the Papal Guard.
Come, we will discuss the logistics of your departure.
The Consistory is adjourned. Verbum Incarnatum.
We have just witnessed a fine piece of theatre.
To which you, Farnese, seem to have been assigned a leading role.
I've accomplished all that we desired.
The Spanish are leaving.
I must get word to the French.
I must get word to Sforza. The French will attack Milan first.
I never dream.
I feel extraordinary. Ask Friar Zosimos for more vitriolo.
- Holiness, a word. - Cardinal Orsini.
- My brother... - Is a traitor.
Who regrets his crime. Shown mercy he would once again serve you faithfully.
And in exchange for his freedom...
I would return the harbor at Porto to your possession.
And what else?
The Archdiocese of Taranto.
- Romagna as well? - Yes.
- The Marches? - Yes.
- Bologna? - Holiness...
We will consider your proposition.
Lucrezia?
Where is your lute? I thought we were going to practice.
I must leave at once for Venice.
My brother Carlo has taken ill.
Oh. Is his sickness serious?
The doctor says that Carlo may not live. I may not reach him in time.
- I'm sorry, Pietro. - My father is old and alone and...
- will need comforting. - And so will you.
Still...
- I'm grateful for our brief time together. - I am as well.
More than a simple sentence can say.
At a time where I'm cautious of everyone...
I somehow trust you.
- I want to show you. - Yes.
This dagger stabbed my brother Juan.
And this is the one which slit his throat.
Why do you have them?
I will tell you. Some day.
Expect to hear from me often.
Epic poems in your honor.
Better than Dante for Beatrice. Petrarch for Laura.
Goodbye, bella donna. Goodbye.
Wait. Wait. A remembrance.
Oh, I pity me. Missing you.
Pity me. All the men in my life leave, one after another.
Kiss me, Pietro.
And spoil what is exquisite between us?
Forgive me.
I have been raised to show my affection in the most mundane of ways.
Practice the flute. We will be a duet again, one day.
A direct hit. The bull is dead.
Ah, de Leval, I'm glad you're here.
I have sent a message to Carlotta...
saying that I withdraw from the challenge.
- Withdraw? Why? - Personal reasons.
If you withdraw, you forfeit. I will be the winner.
Yes.
What?
You Romans. Afraid of the darkness around the next corner.
Ah, Your Grace. You see only what you want to see.
Yes. You are a coward.
Careful, monsieur. I have killed men for saying less.
You are a coward.
And I will say so to the King, to Carlotta and to all at court.
You are half a man, Borgia.
No.
Tell Carlotta that I do know what love is.
Francesc, have Virginio Orsini released from prison.
Bring him and Fabrizio Colonna to us.
We need their seasoned hands to organize our Papal Guard.
And their money to pay for it.
I'm in your debt, young Farnese. Ask for something.
The return of my sister Giulia. Her heart limps missing you.
As mine does for her.
These past eight months we have behaved more pauper than pope.
Soon we'll have our strength back. But we are not yet fully in control.
Find a reason to justify Giulia's return.
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