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Oi!

You the one they call It?

Actually, I've got a name.

Cook wants you.

Why?

Fucked if I know.

You, stop!

Here.

Don't keep the queen waiting.

You want me to serve the queen?

She needs a new maid
for her son's coronation.

She's seeing everyone
until she makes up her mind.

So move!

Now, where are my ramekins?

Don't look in a mirror.

Could suck the soul right out of you.

I don't believe in all that.

Your funeral.

Hello.

Hello there.

What's your name?

Show us your tits.

Come on!

I'm not going in there.

Enter.

Drew the short straw, did you?

What's your name?

They call me It, ma'am.

Do they?

Well...

that's not very nice.

No.

They're not, actually.

Very nice, that is.

Well, I'm sure you'll get your own back.

I pray for their souls.

As I pray for yours.

I'm grateful.

Though...

it might feel better
to get your own back

every once in a while.

You look hungry.

You've heard too many stories.

In a week's time,

my second son, Charles IX,

will be crowned king of France.

For the next seven days,

I'm to be consumed

with preparations for pageantry.

Feasts, balls,

decorations.

All the details that are
supposed to entertain a woman.

But they do not entertain me.

Therefore, I would like
somebody to... distract me

with conversation.

Perhaps that person could be you.

Me?

You remind me of myself

when I first came to this country.

You don't believe me.

Well, you're the queen.

And you are just
a poor little servant girl

who doesn't even have a name.

Rahima.

Well, Rahima...

...I'll let you in
on a little secret, shall I?

I used to be just like you.

Someone else's shoes upon my feet,

shivering myself to sleep at night,

with nobody in the world
to care about me.

So the only question is...

...what are you willing to do
to change it?

Turn the other cheek?

Pray for those
who have trespassed against me?

Well...

I'll tell you a little story...

and...

...you can tell me

what you would have done differently.

How does that sound?

Then I'll begin.

I was born of wealthy parents...

...the wealthiest commoners in Europe.

For that, my family was envied

and despised in equal measure.

But my father had a weakness.

Syphilis drove him to his death

within a year of my birth.

My mother, infected with the same,

followed soon after.

My grandmother took me in.

She died in her sleep
a few months later.

You might say I was bad luck.

...will be done on Earth

as it is in heaven.

- Amen.
- Amen.

I was raised along with the rest

of the unwanted children.

Like you, I believed
that if I were good,

God would protect me.

I was wrong.

Look familiar?

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart

and do not lean on your own"...

You're late.

Wait a moment.

Where is my orange?

The markets were emptied.

The soldiers have ransacked Florence.

People are starving...

Silence!

Come closer.

Closer!

Ow.

Get me the switch.

Do as I say,

or you'll have it yourself.

Medici bitch,
I'll teach you to lie to me.

I have always had a strong imagination,

as if I could see things
before they happen.

Sometimes it feels like
I can make them happen...

Now get out of my sight!

...if I want them badly enough.

Get me my dog.

It's dead.

It's a quality
some people don't appreciate.

Though I might have behaved differently

had I known
the risks the nuns were taking

having me under their roof.

No, no, no, no, no!

Oh, please! No, stop!

No!

Apparently, my head
was still worth something

to the starving soldiers of Florence.

Where is the Medici bitch?

This is a house of God!

I suggest you leave immediately.

Then I suggest you fuck off.

Oh, Mother!

Upstairs now!

- Let her go! Let her go!
- Shut it, old lady.

She's up here! Come on!

Now, where is she?

Hurry!

Open it!

Move it! Come on!

Cut it! Hurry!

They're coming!

Who amongst you would interfere
with a bride of Christ?

That was the first time
I knew I mattered to anyone.

I had never before left the convent.

My first impression of my fellow man

was less than favorable.

Would you help me?

Something tells me you'll be all right.

How would you know?

I'm a fortune-teller.

Make way for His Eminence.

Do you see that?

What's he doing here?

Can you believe it?

It's the pope!

Look, look! It's the pope!

What is he doing here?

Gentlemen...

I believe you have something
that belongs to me.

Until then, I thought
I was alone in the world.

That is not close to what we're owed.

We bled for you.

By the authority of the papacy,

I command you to free her.

Or burn in hell for all eternity.

My first taste
of the power of presentation

made a lasting impression.

Fuck it.

Take her.

She's not worth the bother.

My dear niece.

What have you done to your hair?

Forgive me. It's an...

abscess on my exit.

Makes riding a terror.

Anyway, I have wonderful news.

Bit of a brain wave on my part.

Your marriage has been arranged.

- Marriage?
- Yes.

There you are.

Second son of the king of France.

Not a bad-looking kid if
you can trust the rendering.

And a more flattering version
of your likeness

was sent to Paris,
and that's been accepted.

Now the only task remaining
is how to minimize...

...how to minimize
the disappointment of reality.

I imagine you're aware you're
not very much to look at.

Mm, would you mind?

Mm.

But such a shame

that you didn't inherit
your mother's looks.

Ah, thank you.

I-I'm told you're intelligent.

That's good.

Tends to last longer than mere beauty.

And luckily for us,
King of France has a passion

for all things Italian.

With you, he gets a handful of duchies.

Milan, Parma, Piacenza, to be precise.

As well as the usual extortionate dowry.

In return, we get protection

against that slack-jawed
ingrate in Madrid

who has done a bit of a number
on us of late,

has he not, Cardinal?

What if I don't want to be married?

I'll make this abundantly clear to you.

Our armies are beaten.

Our soldiers
who didn't have the foresight

to get themselves killed
on the field of battle

are all starving.

The people blame the maidages,

which makes you the orphan offspring

of the most despised family in Europe.

And without the protection of France,

we will both find ourselves
hanging by our feet

in the Campo de' Fiori before very long.

In short, it doesn't matter
what you want.

Hmm? You understand?

Hmm?

Now, you won't be entirely alone.

A-a distant cousin of your mother's,

Diane de Poitiers,

is highly regarded in the Valois court,

and I'm sure she will be
of some help to you.

Now, I'm sorry, but we have to make sure

that you're intact, so...

Lean over.

And raise your skirt.

How is this different
to what the soldiers

planned to do to me, you're wondering.

Not much.

She's all there.

Excellent!

In that case...

...we don't have a moment to lose.

Your Grace, to what do I owe
the honor of my visit?

My niece is to be married

to the youngest son
of the king of France,

and you will make her
the most beautiful bride

the world has ever seen.

I'm not a magician.

Then I suggest you become one.

You will be accompanying
my niece to France

as her personal atelier.

Red is not her color.

We need more ornamentation
around the neckline

to divert attention from her chin.

Something refreshing about
being picked apart like that,

something honest.

I knew right away I was
in the hands of a professional.

She has nice ankles.

Make sure every dress
is two inches shorter

so they are always visible,

along with these.

All the rage in Asia.

They shall highlight your best feature.

You must be prepared to dance
on your wedding night.

I don't know how.

So you must learn.

"The French view the Italians

with suspicion..."

Foot goes out. Wrists go up.

Foot goes around.

"...as known poisoners..."

We step out with the right.

- Mm-hmm.
- Bring our left to our right.

And a little rise up and down.

"...who are overly emotional

and more interested in art
than conquest."

The French are unfamiliar with the fork.

How do they eat?

No idea.

With their hands, presumably.

Right and left.

And right, together. Rise.

You will demonstrate, like so.

Do you really think
this is going to work?

What choice do we have?

It's not enough.

Did you say something?

Yes.

I said it is not enough.

As if you have
ever wanted anything finer.

No, I have not.

The marriage is not
a foregone conclusion,

despite what the king thinks.

The French don't like Italians.

The common opinion
is that we are backward,

impractical, and overly emotional.

They especially won't like one
without royal blood.

I'm not beautiful.

I'm not refined.

If the people of France are to accept

the orphan child of a most
despised family in Europe,

we must distract them with finery.

Unless, of course, this is
the best that you can do.

With the budget I was allowed,
no one could have done better.

Well, then the budget must be raised...

...because it is not enough.

Unless, of course, we want to end up

hanging by our feet
in the Campo de' Fiori.

- Right, Uncle?
- Mm.

We'll get him what he needs.

But, Your Grace, with the retinue,

the dowry, and the trousseau,

we simply don't have the budget.

Well, then peddle indulgences

to some of your wealthy friends

who like fiddling with little boys.

I don't care what you do, but raise it,

because the girl may not know her place,

but she happens to be right.

Once I asserted my will,

the preparations proceeded
more smoothly.

Then came the task

of selecting the rest of my retinue

to accompany me to France.

I was hoping to introduce you
to Silvestro Niccolini,

the top perfumer in Florence,
but he has taken ill...

Quite suddenly, I understand...

So in his stead, his daughter...

Angelica.

I'm sorry my father couldn't be here.

Stomach ailment.

Potentially fatal, tragically.

What happened to your eye?

Walked into a door.

Clumsy of me.

My father is so patient.

I have made a blend especially
for the duchessina's wedding.

- What's in it?
- Lavender,

benzyl alcohol,

camphor,

ethanol.

Could any of those
cause stomach ailments?

Potentially.

Perhaps I could use someone like you.

I'm at your service.

If you're a friend to the oppressed,

you can expect loyalty in return.

Ah, heathen.

I did her conversion myself.

I thought I could use someone

who knew how to charm powerful men.

She'll be a testament to you.

You should know
that France is a shithole.

But if you play your cards right,

you could be a princess
in that shithole,

which on balance beats
being a commoner here any day.

Then I encountered some familiar faces.

What do you do?

I love a juggling dwarf.

You don't know how to juggle?

What difference does it make?

Whatever I do, people find it amusing.

I could pass gas,
and people'd find it funny.

It's true. It is really most amusing.

People are idiots.

Now... no.

She will be my fool.

Ah, as you wish.

Unless you'd rather stay here.

I know you.

Ah, Duchessina Caterina, of course.

I needed your help,
and you left me to die.

Well, I didn't die. Too bad for you.

On the contrary, I made a prediction.

And evidently,
that prediction came true.

You didn't need my help.

Tell me my fortune now.

I think you see as well as I do.

If you learn to use your powers,

you will achieve greatness.

I am to travel to France
to marry the king's son.

I want you to join me
as my personal magician.

There are magicians in France.

I want him.

You are a willful girl.

But in my limited experience,

marriage requires the bride

to be a blank canvas.

From here on, everything depends

on your total submission.

And if your new husband wishes you

to read the scriptures
with him every night,

you will be his pious little mouse.

And if he wishes you to sodomize him

with his mother's hairbrush,

you will do that.

It is your sacred duty.

But remember that you serve

a higher authority in heaven...

...represented on Earth by me.

May I inquire, is the dowry complete?

How dare you?

Of course it's complete.

Then we shouldn't have a problem.

So you never saw your home again?

No.

Come to think of it, I didn't.

I'm sorry to hear that.

Oh, don't be.

Nostalgia is no friend
to people like us.

Truth is, I never
really liked it that much.

It's like a giant goose egg.

- Typical Italian gaudiness.
- Mm.

Oh, here we are.

Buongiorno!

Welcome, uh, Italy.

Your Majesty.

May I present my niece,

the duchessina Caterina de' Medici,

as a prospective bride for your son,

the duke of Orléans?

What is it?

Some sort of aquatic slug?

Not the one I have to marry, thank God.

What's she got stuck to her feet?

There is the question of the dowry.

You are short the amount we agreed upon.

He lied to me.

That is an installment

with more to follow.

It's dangerous to travel with
huge sums on the high seas.

The remaining balance will be dispatched

as soon as I return to Florence.

Pay no attention.

The duke of Guise,
like the rest of his family,

thinks only of money.

As a...

As a convert to the Protestant faith,

I, of course, place no value whatsoever

on worldly possessions.

However, we would not want your subjects

thinking the Valois court
was in the business

of bargain hunting, would we?

Um, Francois,

this is a teachable moment,
I think, hmm?

Do we trust the pope
to pay the rest of the dowry

and proceed as planned,

or do we call the whole thing off

to save our reputation, hmm?

What would you do

if I were dead and gone
and you were already king?

If it were a thing of beauty,
we could overlook such things,

but it most certainly is not.

No need to make it personal, son.

My uncle, His Grace the pope,
is too modest.

He is also offering the Duchy of Urbino

with its wealth of farmland...

What are you saying?

...and a cardinalship
to the Guises' second son,

a sign of the Vatican's appreciation

of the family's staunch Catholicism

and forgiveness

of the Bourbon family's
abandonment of the church.

God forgives you.

Hmm.

But only if this union be
the will of God,

Your Grace.

Bit over the top, don't you think?

His opinion didn't matter.

This was strictly
for the Catholics of the house.

A good Catholic girl is exactly
what this court needs, hmm?

If you say so, Your Majesty.

We happily accept
your increase in the dowry.

France accepts the duchessina
Catherine de Medici

in marriage with their son,

Henri, duke of Orléans.

- Lovely.
- Congratulations.

You've made Urbino French

and the match has been accepted.

But don't think we're in the clear.

You have to stay in favor
long enough to get pregnant.

Do you think you can manage that, hmm?

Hmm.

Well, shall we go and meet the groom?

There he is, my second son.

His athletic
skills have developed nicely.

Really?

Henri is dedicating his win

to Diane de Poitiers.

A relation of yours, I believe?

A cousin, though we've never met.

Diane has been like a mother to my boy

ever since his own mother passed on.

Then something terrible happened...

...the worst thing that could
happen to someone like us.

I fell in love.

My second son, Henri, duke of Orléans.

You're much nicer to look at
in real life

than your portrait.

Duchessina.

Your Majesty.

Impressive.

You rode well.

As you taught me.

Did you watch the joust, Father?

I did not.

One joust is the same as the next to me.

My son is always practicing war.

When I was his age,
I was leading armies.

Um...

you kids go and have fun, hmm?

Uh, get to know each other.

After all, you will be married, hmm?

- I'm so sorry.
- It's okay.

Right.

Um, yes, I'm gonna get this off.

Come with me.
I-I'm gonna show you the pond,

- if you don't mind.
- Mm-hmm.

It's, um...

Are they really necessary?

My father insists.

I see.

I can look after myself, mind you,

um, not that I can imagine
one of my subjects

meaning me any harm.

Certainly not.

Or you, for that matter,

now that, um...

that this, um...

- I'm sorry.
- It's all right.

...n-now that this
treaty between our two nations

has been forged.

Bring Charles V to heel.

"Treaty."

He was too shy
to say the word "marriage."

Sweet, no?

It was a cunning move on behalf
of your father and my uncle.

I thought so as well.

You seem very close
to Madame de Poitiers.

Mm-hmm, she's...

yeah, she's a wonderful woman.

She's, um... she's taught me so much.

She's my cousin.

- Really?
- Yeah.

Really? She's your cousin?

Mm-hmm.

Oh, well, no wonder
we get along so well, then.

- Oh, sugar.
- Oh!

- Oh.
- No, no, no, no.

- No, no.
- It's a big one.

- Hey, come on. Pick him up.
- Oh, go on.

He's tiny and he's sweet.

And he wants to say hello. Hey, come on.

Uh, you got him?

Yeah.

Uh, sing to it.

- What?
- Sing to it.

I have a terrible voice.

I doubt that very much.

- Go on.
- Wow. Mm.

A-a trick I learned as a boy.

All animals are musical.

It's, um...

...it's the last thing
my-my mother taught me

before she died.

I never knew my mother.

I will always believe,

for that one day at least,
that my love was requited.

Nobody can tell me it wasn't.

And like that, we were married.

You look very beautiful this evening.

- Thanks. Thank you.
- Mm-hmm.

Oh, hello, cousin.

Madame de Poitiers.

Call me Diane.

We're family, after all.

Yeah, of course.

Um, I'm so pleased
to have a relative at court.

Mm, your mother would be very happy

if she could see you now.

You remember my mother?

But of course.

On her wedding night.

Such a beauty, just like you.

I feel very lucky.

Henri seems such a fine young man.

He's the best man I know.

I love your dress.

I always wear black and white

since my husband died.

Mixed feelings, I suppose you could say.

- I'm sorry.
- Well, don't be.

A widow is the best thing
a woman can hope to be.

You get to keep the money.

And if you are sufficiently devout,

no one expects you
to take another husband.

It is the closest thing
we have to freedom.

If I weren't so fond of Henri,

I'd wish you the same.

Perhaps you'd like a guide
of the local flora and fauna.

- Oh, yes, please.
- Mm.

Queen Eleanor,

sister of France's mortal enemy,

the Holy Roman Emperor.

She'd rather go to bed
with a dog than a king.

Oh.

Not that it matters.

Francis.

Lately, he's been very busy
with his latest conquest,

Anne D'Etampes,

said to be capable of unspeakable things

in the bedroom.

Charles of Bourbon.

Like most true aristocrats,
he's not very bright.

What in God's name is this contraption?

Converted to Protestantism

purely for political gain.

Must be Italian.

Then you have the duke
of Guise with his sons.

His title is bought and paid for.

Merchant's daughter.

I'd rather have my knees broken

than to bend it to the Medici.

Mm, well, I'm sure that can be arranged.

You've met Montmorency,
the king's loyal dog.

Clever to Francis to invite the sultan.

Everyone knows
it was your idea, Montmorency.

The rest of Europe is actually
fucking terrified of him.

- Useful ally, wouldn't you say?
- Mm.

Together, they form the Privy Council,

and they despise each other.

The only thing they have in common

is, they'd put a knife in
the king's back for the crown.

How much longer can this possibly go on?

I would like to offer a benediction.

To the couple's eternal happiness,

as God in heaven intended it.

And I would like to propose a toast.

To the unity of France and Italy.

A new era of peace and prosperity.

God willing.

Hey, go dance with your cousin.

Tonight's your wedding night, cousin.

You know what is expected of you.

Mm.

Let me give you a piece of advice.

Do not let your husband fail.

I know him well.

Be yourself.

Be bold.

That's what Henri wants.

Yeah.

Yes, I will.

We are all depending on you.

Did you see that?

Oh!

Let's see.

Oh.

Bold, hmm?

Hmm.

Oh, pretty.

Very pretty.

- Let the joust begin!
- Mm.

Rather him than me.

Someone will have
to take initiative, I think.

Mm.

Wow, adventurous.

Germanic position.

It's a safe bet.

Hey, look at me.

Pretend we're alone.

Ow.

Well, they're...

- Now...
- Here we go.

There you go.

Well done.

Bravo!

It's no conquest.

- A good joust.
- Mm.

But, uh, in bed,

you are not the winner, mon fils.

Well done.

Henri.

Get out.

What?

Did you not hear me? I said get out!

Okay.

Drink this.

Principessa.

Henri.

They were lovers?

Yes.

And you know what I learned that day?

That you could overcome

every obstacle put in front of you

but you couldn't win the heart
of the one you loved?

No.

I learned never to trust a single soul.

Take this clumsy girl away.

No, it wasn't me!

It wasn't...

This is a mistake.

Where are you taking me?

Where are you taking me? Please!

Let go of me! It wasn't me!

I'm sorry! I'm... I'm sorry! No!

I didn't do anything.

Come on. I didn't do anything.

i>♪ Jesus died For somebody's sins ♪

♪ But not mine ♪

♪ Meltin' in a pot of thieves ♪

♪ Wild card up my sleeve ♪

♪ Thick heart of stone ♪

♪ My sins my own ♪

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