All language subtitles for Borgia S103

At least
the rioting has stopped.

For now.

Until the rabble sobers up.
And drinks some more.

We've killed these men.
Now we must bury them.

And pray for their souls.

And pray for our own.

I'm sorry.

I did not mean to...
No, I'm finished.

Praying for divine guidance
during the Conclave.

Yes.

Cardinal Costa
and I were just...

Yes, Cardinal Costa.

There are many heinous
practices which need to be
buried with the pope today.

I read the Gospels
to Innocent as he lay dying,

but he did not seem
to know what I was saying.

I'm certain His Holiness
took great solace
in your presence.

You do not know what
lying with that
creature is like.

Then do not lie with him.

If I refuse, he'll rape me.

Then I'll have him castrated.

Oh, fine. I still
will have been raped.

Oh, my love, if only
we could be together.

In truth.

What can be done?

You have a husband
and I am a cardinal.

Who could be pope.

Yes.

Twice I have failed
to get elected.

I had given up hope.

But these past few days,
I studied the competition,
the circumstances,

and I think, maybe,
if I'm just clever enough,

if God grants it.

Then you and I will marry?

Marry? When I am pope?

Saint Peter was married.

La Bella, even if I dared,
you still have a husband.

Husbands die.

I'm a priest.
I do not kill.

I have
heard that when you
were but 10 years old,

a boy spoke poor of you.

So you plunged a knife
through his heart.

How dare you!
Repeating such lies.

I'm no murderer.
And for you to...

I meant nothing.

Be gone from my sight!

Juan, I've come,
since entering Rome,

to trust you as a friend.

Why must you go back to Spain?

As a part of
my uncle's master plan.

And what of me?

Bajazet wants me dead.

Another pope may agree
to expedite the matter.

That's why hiding you
in this room high above
the Sistine is so smart.

You can hear every utterance.

And what if I hear a name
other than Borgia called
to the throne?

Then you'll contact Gacet,
who will help you escape

before anyone else finds you.

And sells you to your brother.

Stay but a few days more...

No. When Uncle's
uncle became pope,

he opened the gates of Rome
to a horde of distant,
greedy relatives.

I believe he even made
a nephew into a cardinal,

did he not?

He did.

Which is why Rodrigo
now needs to show

his colleagues that
he's nothing like
Pope Calixtus.

So I am off to Gandia.

Cesare is returning
to the studium in Pisa

and Lucrezia is going
to the country.

Sometimes I'm bitterly cold

and sometimes burning hot.

Then this sojourn
to Subiaco
will do much good.

Many of the monks
were at the abbey
when you were born.

They will care for you
as if you were
their daughter.

Do they still
have the head of
that young girl?

Saint Petronilla.

The daughter of Peter,
the first pope.

Pray before the shrine
of Patronilla

that our separation
will be brief.

I fear moving her
in this condition.

'Tis best to delay our trip.

No. I want you
all out of Rome
immediately.

As I go into my first Conclave,

I will miss your strength,
my friends.

You will be impacting
history, Giovanni,

while Alessandro
and I will merely
be studying it.

And drinking with Remolino.

Lucrezia has departed
without saying goodbye?

Then I shall go to Subiaco.

No, Don Gaspare.

Cardinal Borgia forbids
you to be within 20
leagues of the abbey.

But I am Lucrezia's fiance!

Even so, there must
be no scandals before
the Conclave.

Where is the Lady Giulia?
I must speak to her!

She's gone as well.
To Bassanello.

We must all sacrifice,
Don Gaspare,

for the good of our souls.

Yes, Excellency.

I see that you leave for Pisa.

But my eyes will be everywhere.

Watching.

Have you seen my uncle?

Has he not come
to bid you adieu?

Well,

he is busy preparing
for the Conclave.

You are dismissed, Cockroach.

If we are to reach
the seminary
by tomorrow,

we must leave at once.

We will wait another moment

to see if Rodrigo comes.

Look, can we just finish this?

You as Dean of
the Sacred College

and I as Vice Chancellor
of the Curia

are required by
canon law...
Yes.

To decide which nine
cardinals will perform

the nine requiem masses
for Pope Innocent.

An honor which raises
those chosen
above the others.

Yes. I just...

We have four names,
we need five more.

But we must tread carefully.

One of the nine will,
in all likelihood,
become pope.

Yes.

Jorge da Costa seems to be
gathering some support,

as he sits smugly
in judgment of us all.

Our Portuguese
colleague is rich,

rich enough to bribe
every cardinal.

Rich, but miserly.
And moral.

Besides, he has
not spent much time
around the Vatican.

True.

But Rome is bigger
than its city.

Yes, to Costa.

And Sforza,

as he drags his long silk
coat through the halls?

The Sforza family rules
Milan with a heavy hand.

But the next pope must
reach out with a gentle
one toward Naples.

I propose for balance.

We give one mass
to Cardinal Sforza,

and another to Cardinal Carafa.

Agreed.

Milan and Naples
must both be represented.

And you make eight,

if you have lost count.

And you are the ninth.

The blessed head
of Saint Petronilla.

Martyred for refusing to marry
the Roman patrician, Flaccus.

She refused to marry?

Rather than subject herself
to life with a pagan,
she died for her faith.

Her father,
the pope,
let her die?

Of course.

I mean, Saint Peter
was martyred as well.

My head aches so...

Lucrezia.

Must be the heat.

Or the fever.

Carry her to the guest house.

Send for the doctor.

We must quarantine
the guest house

so the fever she carries
does not spread
to the monastery.

But, dottore, will she survive?

Finally, my two
testicles return.

You are a eunuch no more.

One of you hangs low.

A drink will
raise his spirits
to the heavens.

In vino, divinity.

I will see you at supper.

Cesare, you are turning
your back on a chance
to reach heaven?

If Pisa were heaven,
we would all have wings.

Let us drink and see halos.

Each of us
a mirror and a candle.

I have found
the palace bell tower to be
the most suitable location.

Meet your valet
for the Conclave.
Petronio.

Clever boy.
Inquisitive.

Inquisitive?
In what area?

Sforza's valet, I'm told,

likes the back of a woman
more than the front.

Ah. Learning such
facts is helpful,

but only if you know
when to use them.

Do you keep secrets, boy?

Yes, Eminence,
as if I were a mute.

If you ever repeat
a single word you
hear from my lips,

I will cut out your tongue.

How did you fare
in the meeting
with della Rovere?

Carafa and Piccolomini
are two of the nine.

Both have promised to drop
out of the running once
the Conclave convenes,

and throw their support to me.

With Orsini, Savelli,
de Medici and the two
Spanish cardinals,

you'll have eight votes
going into the election.

Six short of victory.

No.

We have received word
that due to a storm in
the Mediterranean Sea,

Mendoza and my cousin will
not reach Italy in time.

I'm down to six.

If you lose two,
you must add two.

Shut up.
Why?

He is exactly right.

Neither the French
nor the German cardinals

will arrive before
we are sealed inside
the Sistine.

Coupled with the loss
of the Spaniards,
we need more electors.

But the two you suggest,
one is old
and the other slow.

They were named in petto.

And perhaps in silence
they were meant to remain.

Pope Innocent had
every intention of
elevating them publicly.

Only his death
stood in the way.

Federigo San Severino
has served Novara
with honor and sanctity.

San Severino is 17 and a mule.

Maffeo Gherardo has
a letter from the Doge
extolling his virtues.

Gherardo is nearly a 100.

Who eats as if two men of 50.

And is afraid of his own wind.

Of what wind are
you afraid, Giuliano?

None.

I agree to Gherardo
and San Severino

if you get Ardicino
della Porta to leave
his monastery.

And how is Rome?

The city burns.

From the heat?

The unknown.

Ardicino,

when I convinced Pope Innocent

to let you step down
from your archdiocese
and become a monk,

I told you that
the time might come

when the church would
need you to walk once more
with your fellow cardinals.

Now is the moment.

The era of reform has arrived.

As it does when
each pope passes,

and then all we do
is move gold from one
strongbox to the next.

You are a prince of the church.

A church in which
His Holiness created
this year alone

fifty-two new positions
in the Curia,

not because they were needed,

but in order to sell them
for 62,000 ducats apiece.

And to whom did he peddle
these appointments?

Men who pay the bribe,

knowing that they will
have their hands
on the papal seal

and then be able
to demand bribes
from others.

You and I have worked hard
to raise the Vatican's
moral standards.

How many priests,
how many cardinals

betray their vow of chastity?

And why do they get away
with such a crime?

Because our Holy Father
allowed his bastard son

to live in the
Apostolic Palace.

Serving this pope,
I lost sight of God.

My soul was in agony.

Here, I'm at peace.

What if the person chosen
to succeed Innocent

could actually bring
about the change

for which we have both
so ardently wished?

Then the Holy Ghost
will not need me

to find him amongst
those gathered.

Does not the Holy Ghost
rely on us to act
as His surrogates?

Just as we stand for
Christ at every Mass?

Come back, Ardicino.

Not just for the church,
but for the city, for Rome.

We need to get
our children
off their knees.

I was afraid you
had forgotten me.

Fiametta, my every
thought is of you.

Your belly grows.

Our child.

He kicks like a bull.

Like a Borgia.

So, Fiametta was not
able to reignite
your dampened spirits?

She is a joy.

But I'm haunted by the specter

of a certain vice chancellor.

When he learns that
I've impregnated a woman,

he will eat my heart.

Nonsense.
There are worse things
than procreating.

Mmm.

Rodrigo Borgia is a monument
to reason, not saintliness.

Your existence is
testament to that.

Rodrigo Borgia rules
with his word,
not by his example.

True, but...
Why does he ever
have to know?

He has spies in every pantry.

If Rodrigo already
knew about the girl,

he would not have sent
you back to Pisa.

After he is elected,
tell him he is a grandpa
as well as il Papa.

No.

While my mother was ill,
in her delirium she
revealed to me a secret.

On the morning I was born,

the good cardinal made
a sacred and irrevocable
pact with God.

My life would
be dedicated
to the Holy Word,

my days lived
without sin,
without lust.

With absolute purity.

And in exchange,

Rodrigo would become pope.

I have broken the bargain.

Rodrigo may not know,
but the Almighty does.

And He will take revenge.

Not only on my father,
but our entire family.

O God, the creator
and redeemer of
all the faithful,

grant to the soul
of Your servant,

Giovanni Battista Cibo...
Giovanni Battista Cibo,

the pardon which
he has always desired.

Absolve, O Lord, his soul
from every bond of sin.

And by the help of Your grace,

enable him to escape
judgment and punishment.

And enjoy the bliss
of everlasting light.

The day is new,

one in which we,
the guardians
of the church,

must abandon rivalry,

ambition,

and all ill will.

We must turn the church
from the whore of Babylon,
which she has become,

back into the Bride of Christ.

Look. The sun! A miracle!

If we do not
elect a vigorous
and holy shepherd...

An omen.

Wolves from outside
will one day soon
devour our flock

and us

with a terrible vengeance.

Rodrigo has found
the Holy Spirit.

Or maybe the Spirit
has found him.

In either case,

it has been a while
since the Spirit
was last among us.

Find out who wrote that speech.

Three suns, you say?

While you were preaching.

The hand of God.
Hmm.

Or His middle finger.

Is God telling me I will
receive only three votes,

instead of the 14,
which I need?

Three suns, my ass.

An optical illusion,
a refraction of light.

Still, the peasants
are superstitious.

They believe Borgia
will triumph.

The peasants do not vote.

I'm nervous.
Are you nervous?

No. And you
needn't worry.

Be my friend?

You have warned
each cardinal's valet?

Yes. Under
penalty of death,

neither they
nor the cardinals are
to have any contact

with the outside world.

All meals are to be
delivered
through this hatch,

prepared by
each cardinal's
own household.

I shall have
guardsmen standing here,
morning through night.

Nothing but food
will get inside.

I must speak with you, Rodrigo.

Just before we entered,

I received my official
instructions from
the King of Naples.

I'm to vote not for you,
but for Carafa.

Carafa? No,
he is to drop out.

Since my family has
a contract
with King Ferrante,

I am bound
to follow
his command.

At least during
the first scrutiny.

But Carafa has
sworn that he, too,
will vote for me.

Hmm. Perhaps Naples
is afraid you cannot
beat Milan.

Carafa.
I enjoy sardines.

The taste of salt on my tongue.

Maybe because
I grew up
by the sea.

Not like those pigs
from the north

who put sugar on shit
and call it chocolate.

Since the death
of His Holiness,

I have survived on bread,
water, and the Holy Ghost.

I'm glad you came
to see me, Rodrigo.

You were very helpful
to Naples when
Innocent was alive.

I expect your support again.

And I yours.

King Ferrante
led me to believe
I had your vote.

Excuse me?

Are you suggesting that
you could be elected?

I possess five votes already.

One more than that
Milanese fraud, Sforza.

I have seven votes.

Do you?

Are you certain of that?

I cannot breathe.

Calm yourself.

I know the journey from
Venice was difficult.

Why did I come?

Why did you convince them
to make me a cardinal?

The air is foul.
This time of year,
Rome kills.

I want to go home.

You cannot leave, Gherardo.
You are the oldest

and are therefore required
to oversee each vote.

Cardinal Severino and I
will take care of you.

Are there any more sweets?

Your next meal will
not be till morning.

Do you have any bread?

The sooner we finish,
the sooner you can
return to Venice.

You remember who you
are to vote for, yes?

A little piece of bread?

Without guilt holding
man in his place,

we would reach a higher plane.

Guilt is the final
barrier between each
of us and the divine.

So your theorem is
that the feeling of
guilt is unnatural?

Yes.

Joy, pain,

these are clearly
present in lower
creatures of nature

and, therefore,
are obvious
creations of God.

But the sensation of guilt

is present solely in man,

hence is a device
of man, not our Lord.

Cesare, you shall
act as arguenti.

Guilt was created
for what reason?

For man to
enslave himself?
No.

Without the sensation
of guilt, the hierarchy
are afraid

the individual would run free

and there would be no order.

Without order,
there is no power.

Guilt forces each of us
to surrender our will,

our souls to those who
should not possess them.

So are you saying that
the men who are in power
do not deserve to rule?

His Eminence,
Cardinal Borgia?
No.

Then do you believe
the kings and the
cardinals are correct?

That without guilt
there would be
hell on earth?

Without guilt,
there would be
heaven on earth.

Man could be who
he wants to be,

love who he loves.

Cesare, if you could
excise guilt from your life,

here and now,

with whom would your
relationship be changed?

God? Or Rodrigo Borgia?

Vannozza, His Eminence
has forbidden you
to visit Lucrezia.

Call to him,
yell with all your might.

See if His Eminence
can hear you.

Mother?
Yes.

I am here, my sweet girl.

Where is Goffredo?
Is he well?

He is fine. Home.
With my husband.

I am so sorry.

About little Ottaviano.

About not coming
when you were ill.

Hush.

We are together now.

Lucrezia.

Fever.

Worse.

Sforza has gained another vote.

Who?

I'm sworn to secrecy.

There are all sorts of secrets.

You have lost San Severino.

Come in.

Federigo...
Go away.

I have heard enough from you.

About you.
I know the truth.

Whose? My truth?
Or Sforza's?

You have stolen
the papal treasury from
the Castel Sant'Angelo.

Nonsense. I have
safeguarded it.

I do not want to hurt you.

Go.

My dear Savelli,
I'm down to six votes.

You, de Medici, Piccolomini,

della Porta,
Gherardo, and myself.

Tomorrow morning, we vote.

I will be out before
I have a chance to get in.

How many votes does he have?

Jorge Costa?

Three? Four?

His capitulation could
get you to nine or even
10 in the first round.

Jorge.

Vice Chancellor.

Portugal and Spain
sit side-by-side on
the Iberian Peninsula.

Shall you and
I be collaborators

or competitors?

We two are the only
non-Italians here.

You should align with me.

Or you me.

There is a wall around Rome.

And there is another
wall around the wall.

Made of hands.
Hands grabbing
for coins.

The poor have
empty hands,
my dear Costa,

but their palms are small.

Not so small that
they cannot pick up
knives and clubs,

which will happen
if we do not
reform the church.

We shall be murdered
in our beds.

I agree.

That is why, if chosen,

I will, like
a potter at his wheel,
mold a new church.

Yes. With your big hands.

Always reaching
beyond your grasp.

You have no chance
of being elected.

I am a Borgia.

I leave nothing to chance.

I promise upon
the death of my soul

to trust the Holy Ghost,
and the Holy Ghost alone,

for inspiration
and for this election.

Quiet!

So hot.

We have been at this all day.

The notion is a good one.

Good, yes,
but not of
the moment.

This is the moment.
The only moment.

The streets are
awash with blood.

The people think
there is no God
if there is no pope.

Yet we remain mired
discussing Costa's rules.

Yes, rules, Colonna.
We all acknowledge

that elements in
Holy Mother Church
are corrupt,

that the papacy itself
is rotted to the core.

Unless we impose rules
upon the next pope,

the disease will spread.

But we must be careful
not to cure the disease
and kill the body.

I support the restrictions
on papal authority.

But an oath?
Yes.

A vow?

To make whoever
sits on the throne
beholden to us.

As if he is a child.

You cannot bind
the Supreme Pontiff
of the universal church

any more than you can the wind.

I would not be able
to endorse any candidate

who does not support
Costa's mandate.

First and foremost,
a limit on the number
of cardinals.

Yes.

Too many have
bought their way
into this chapel.

All agree we must have change!

The rest is simply
a question of law.

There are only 10 laws.
The Holy Commandments.

And few of us honor those.

How dare you.

How dare I?
I earned
my red biretta.

I wasn't simply handed
an archdiocese

because my name
is Orsini or Colonna.

Costa.

You go too far.

No, not far enough.

If we expect a lowly,
starving peasant to
follow the Word of God,

then why not us?

The pope is the Word of God.

Then let the man who will
be pope give us his word

before he takes
responsibility for God's.

I say we pray for guidance.

Exactly. Guidance.

Let the new Sovereign Pontiff
receive guidance from us.

Guidelines.

Guidelines are an excuse
to do nothing.

He is relentless.
Even a mule stops
kicking after a while.

To give man-made laws
to a man who will
no longer be a man is...

Is ridiculous!

Even a Portuguese
should recognize that!

Let us pray.

Yes, pray for a cool breeze.

For divine help in
writing guidelines.

Non-binding guidelines.

On Judgment Day,
you will be called
into account for this.

- All of you.
- Enough!

Because of this bickering,

we have not had a single vote

on the only real
reason we are here,

to fill Saint Peter's shoes.

I say

we put aside Costa's motion.

I second.

All in favor.

Yea.

Opposed?

Nay.
Nay.

Abstentions?

Let us move on
to the first ballot.

Della Rovere, eight.

Sforza, eight.

Borgia, six.

Carafa, four.

Make an offer to Piccolomini.

And Costa...

Costa, one.

Not sufficient for election.

The Italians have
treated you like
an old whore.

I no longer want
to be considered.

Spread the word.

I know you are most able
at doling out bad news.

My dear Costa,
why do you not see
that I'm your ally?

I believe in the same
goals as you.

In voting for my rules,
you abstained.

In order to remain neutral.

Yes, you are
the ultimate bureaucrat.

A part of the Curia
for over 30 years.

You are the whore.

Look, I do understand
that the past cannot
be the future.

I repeat, I will
change the church,
Rome, if elected.

And in God's name.

In God's name,
you should recuse
yourself from the race.

You received one vote,
I am guessing your own.

There are six among us
who think I should be pope.

There will be more.

Cesare.

A boy.

I have chosen a name for him.

Cesare.

So that when you are far,
you are also close.

And I tell you,
we must find
a different doctor,

not one of these
country butchers,

who believes the cure
will come from a potion

made of goat's blood
and crushed sea shells.

We could send
to Rome for
the pope's physician.

The pope's physician
killed him.

I've already lost one
child to this fever,

I will not lose another!

We must ask
for the intercession
of Saint Petronilla.

Expose Lucrezia
to the sacred relic...

Superstitious claptrap.

Unless it works.

Kiss the lips of
Saint Petronilla.

You must.

Do not be afraid.

See?

Come.

We are in trouble.
Della Rovere has a letter,

a 30-year-old letter
from Pope Pius,

rebuking you for
attending an orgy.

Della Rovere had
the letter smuggled in?

That is forbidden.

He says Piccolomini
came to him.

My old friend Piccolomini.

"We have learned, Rodrigo,

"that in Siena you
spent the afternoon
with several women.

"That the most
wanton dances
were performed,

"filled with amorous
allurements.

"In order to give free
rein to your lusts,

"the husbands, fathers
and brothers of the young
women were not admitted.

"We leave you to judge
whether you can
indulge yourself

"in every kind of perversion

"without surrendering
the sanctity of
your high office."

The words of my uncle,
Pope Pius, indict you.

June of 1460?

I was in Siena, yes.

At the home of Giovanni Bichi.

His son's baptism.

Are you denying
Pius' accusations?

I am sorry, Francesco.

Though we've been friends
for over 30 years,

I can no longer protect you.

This letter is a forgery.

No! I was there
when my uncle wrote
the damn thing.

Then why wait until
now to show it?

Twice before
I have endeavored
to win the papacy

and you happily
carried my banner.

I wonder what could have
caused this change in
my dear colleague's heart?

I hope you have been well paid.

You were a man I always
looked to for the truth.

My brothers, it is time
for the afternoon vote.

Sforza, eight.

Carafa, five.

Borgia, five.

Della Rovere...

Nine.

Della Rovere is on the rise.

Be ready.
We may need to run.

Not sufficient for election.

For Cardinal San Severino,
who perspires with worry.

Come in.

Some relief, if only brief.

Give your cardinal my thanks.

He looked me
straight in the eyes.

He was like a man,
full-grown.

Was he blessed
like all Borgias?

He was already as big
as you, Alessandro.

My son is the most
extraordinary creation
on God's earth.

God.

Give God a rest for the night.

Who are you?

Do you not know me,
sweet Lucrezia?

Cesare?
No.

Your one, true love.

Go away. I am ill.
You will die.

No, you will live
Cured by the potion of love.

Rumor from Rome.
Della Rovere leads.

My fault.

Cesare,

you are not responsible
for the fate
of Rodrigo Borgia.

After taking
the vow of celibacy,

he sired seven children.
You have but one.

But there's no going
back for either of you,

so be like him, move forward.

That is what I fear.

Because of me, my lust,

we Borgias shall
not move forward.

To think of Rodrigo's
fierce gaze,

or worse,

his frigid indifference.

No.

We live at a momentous time,

which calls for
supreme sacrifice.

The ultimate sacrifice.

To prove to God
that we are worthy
of His blessing.

I must act, and at once.

To rectify the sin
I have committed.

Father, if You are willing,

take this cup from me.

But then not my will
but Yours be done.

Lucrezia?

Lucrezia?

Already the room is too hot.

Gherardo's breathing
grows labored.

If he dies,
we might have a tie.

I cannot wait until
the others arrive.

I could not sleep.
I could not think.

The King of France
has given 200,000
ducats to one of us

in order to buy his election.

What?

Which man?

Giuliano della Rovere.

Impossible!

On what basis have you
made this accusation?

A list of each
cardinal and how much
they are to receive,

including Piccolomini,

who was paid to reveal
Pope Pius' letter,
with French money.

Never! I despise
the King of France.

As do I.
When I saw this,

I could no longer
bite my tongue.

Let me see the document.

To see it is to accept it.

At first, I wanted
to destroy the letter.

And perhaps I should have.

Perhaps the Lord
held back my hand.

Are you an agent
of King Charles?

He shakes his head like
a French marionette.

My uncle was pope.

No matter how the Conclave
came to choose him,

he was never traitor to Italy.

Discharge of an old man
is a frightening sight.

I have shown them the letter.

You gave him this?

Yes.

How did you come by it?

There are many
in the French court

who fear a della Rovere papacy.

Liar!

I am the liar?

You are a hypocrite.

I will kill you.

Stop! Charlatans!

This is my first Conclave
and I have
tried to keep silent.

We refuse to write down
Costa's simple rules,

but we pass letters
door-to-door through
the night.

While a city,
a world,
waits for us!

The young Cardinal
of Florence is right.

No more letters.

Pity.
Only words.

Spoken and true.

More than our words,

our actions must speak true.

Sforza, eight.

Carafa, seven.

Della Porta, four.

Della Rovere, four.

Four?

Four, you say?

Borgia, four.

Not sufficient for election.

I had not expected
to lose a vote,

but to gain some from those
who deserted della Rovere.

They're angry at him
for the betrayal and
at you for exposing it.

Was that letter a forgery?

The actual parchment, yes,
but the details were true.

Has della Porta abandoned me?

And which four cardinals
voted for him?

I will find out before
the next scrutiny.

Do not give up hope.

Hope?

On my last trip
back from Spain,
almost 20 years ago,

our vessels hit
a violent storm
off Pisa.

One ship sank to the bottom.

Two hundred souls,
including three bishops
were drowned.

And then, as if God meant
to punish me further,

we were attacked
by Muslim pirates.

I was beaten, robbed
of 30,000 ducats.

I survived not out of hope,

but because I do not know
how to do anything else.

Besides,
there is a certain
sweet revenge

in being tied
with della Rovere
for last place.

So Abraham rose
early in the morning

and took his two
servants with him

and his son, Isaac.

He said to the servants,

"Stay here.

"I and the lad will go
up further and worship
and come again to you."

And Isaac said to Abraham,

"But where is the lamb
for the burnt offering?"

Abraham replied,

"God will provide
Himself the lamb for
the burnt offering."

And the angel of
the Lord called down
from heaven and said,

"Because you have done this

"and you have not
withheld your son,

"your only son,

"I will indeed

"bless you."

Cesare, where is your son?
Where is the baby?

Do you want to die?
Cesare.

There is a man and
there is his word

and the two must be the same.