All language subtitles for S01 Ep.04 - The Magician

Boy.

One of my huntsmen wishes this decorated.

You've a keen eye. Paint it.

When Leonardo was 14 years old,

his father, Piero,
having found little use for the young man,

gave him a task.

Leo spent the next day collecting
all manner of strange creatures.

And so long did he labor dissecting them

that the stench was past bearing.

But Leonardo didn't notice,

so great was his love for his art.

It's finished, Father! Come see.

It will suffice.

Knowing that the hunting
guide would be none the wiser,

Piero presented him with a new shield,

while selling the original one to a vendor

for 100 ducats.

And then the vendor resold it
to the Duke of Milan himself

for 300 ducats.

Loath to pass up such a resource,

Piero arranged for his son to
be brought under my tutelage.

I paid a finder's fee of 50 ducats.

A bargain, in my estimation.

His father sold you a bastard son.

Yes. But you know what?

I would trade 100 of you

to have another one like him on my doorstep.

I think you're drunk, old man.

And you're jealous, Botticelli.

Tomorrow...I'll be sober.

But you'll still be jealous.

You're preoccupied today.

Painting...

..is about...it's about
more than just strokes.

There's perspective.

I mean, do I paint you from below...

..or do I paint you...

..from above?

And then there's symbols.

Do I paint you with a dog in your arms?

It's a symbol of loyalty.

Color. How about the particular
shade of vermillion...

that I use for the blush of your cheeks?

And the folds of your dress.

Should they be...

lush and sumptuous...

..or stiff and angular?

And perhaps...

..no gown at all.

If I was a dutiful servant,

I'd consider the needs of my patron.

But I'm not, so that...

That is what I struggle with.

You can't take your eyes off that.

What's so beautiful about it?

It's the same thing I see in you.
It's a mystery.

It's a puzzle

and I will stop at nothing to figure it out.

Francesco.

The walls of my Cappella
Maggiore lean and crumble,

just as Rome itself is in disrepair.

This place must become a
grand palace of the Lord,

celebrating his glory in marble

and majestic brushstrokes

from the most enlightened hands on earth.

I will build a gleaming chapel

with the stories of Christ and
Moses frescoed on the ceiling.

A tribute to the everlasting grace of God.

I can assure you, Your Holiness,

if you move your accounts
from the Medici Bank...

to my own,
you'll have all the funds you need.

This will require more than funds.

Resurrection requires death.

And in this case,

the sacrifice for Rome's rebirth

will be Florence.

However, the Medici have certain
capabilities we are unsure we can best.

We've tried a frontal assault.

We may need you to develop

other...less direct contingencies.

The Medicis are the reason

Florence is a sanctuary for
sorcerers and...sodomites.

They've turned my city away from the Lord.

Together, Holy Father, we will turn it back.

Now gather your men, Girolamo.

You've a role to play in this as well.

He's been with our family his entire life.

He taught us our letters.

I don't care if he held your
prick when you first took a piss.

Becchi is a spy and a traitor.

His brother-in-law carries epic debts

which could only be met with
the Roman scudos we found.

We broke the cipher in
dozens of letters he hid.

Each one more incriminating than the last.

Now is not the time to show mercy.

So we're jailing old friends while making
new friends with lunatics like DaVinci.

Our grandfather made friends with lunatics.

Brunelleschi was one and he created
the most majestic cathedral in Europe.

If you believe Becchi betrayed us,

it's you who's gone mad.

Lorenzo!

No! No, please!

Tell me, are you familiar with
Abraham's prayer for Sodom and Gomorrah?

How many righteous people
did Abraham initially promise

he would find in those blighted cities?

20?

Unfortunate.

No! Please!

And your answer?

No? No?

No idea?

Are there no faithful in this forsaken place

or are you all damned?

You. Stand.

Let us pray you know the right reply.

- What?
- 50.

50! Signor.

You are correct.

You will deliver this
message to the Medicis.

It contains, in exacting detail,

the horrors witnessed here today.

Why in God's name are we here, Riario?

Tell me, Captain, how much did you
give the Medicis for your coat?

I bought it in Rome, not Florence.

Every dyed fabric in Europe
uses alum from these mines

to fix the dye.

Did you know, Pope Pius II

gave this mining concern to the Medicis

in return for forgiveness of papal debt.

And since then, every frock, sheet and shirt

has had a portion of its
price going to Florence.

Today we killed three birds with one stone.

We took back what was rightfully Rome's.

We eliminated a lucrative
source of Medici income

and most importantly...

..we sent a message.

This is an art, this pursuit.

I like just making one of something.

Get used to it.
We've got plenty more copies to go.

What is it that I'm getting used to?

Making each soldier's death
indistinguishable from the last?

Leonardo, you're needed at the palace.

You playing errand boy now, Father?

In these traitorous times,
we fill any role required.

Come on.
The Medicis are none of them patient men.

Not you two.

This is state business, not a sideshow.

If you are in this room, it is because you
reside in my innermost circle of trust.

And if you are in my circle, it is because
we share a common vision for Florence.

A city that will be remembered for centuries

as a cynosure of innovation and artistry.

I have received word from Tolfa,
Commander Quattrone,

that Count Riario has
attacked our alum mine.

This is a casus belli. An act of war.

It is easy to be for
Florence in times of peace.

Not so in times of war.

Those who cannot stand with us should leave.

It is better to be a coward
now than a traitor later.

I recently lost my most
trusted advisor to treachery.

He currently sits in the Bargello
awaiting his fate on the wheel.

In the Medici court, we punish treason

and we reward service.

Would the young man who brought me
this scroll please come forward.

So tell us, please,
how did you come by the scroll?

A Tolfan miner, sir.

Count Riario killed all but one

whom he tasked with delivering the scroll.

And would you tell us what it says?

Riario has an army, sir.

He intends to occupy Florence
unless you do as Rome asks.

Did the miner convey this to you?

He's a simple man, sir. I doubt he can read.

So you broke the seal

and revealed its contents to others?

Arrest him.

No.

- Warm up the wheel with his bones!
- Please, sir! No!

I will show no mercy to those
who betray the Medici name.

Each of you has a responsibility
to this community.

To protect. To invent. To maintain order.

To support.

To uphold the sacred honor
of the Medici legacy.

We all knew this day would come.

We will not submit.

We will fight.

Alla Battaglia Firenze!

Alla Battaglia Firenze!

I think I have a cat in my bag.

Would you like to kick that, too?

Enough.

A city that will be remembered
for centuries to come

as a cynosure for innovation and artistry.

That's a direct quote from
Becchi's counsel to you,

when you were a shit-scared 19-year-old
poet about to ascend the throne.

- Not now.
- Yes, now.

There's a difference between
strength and cruelty, Lorenzo.

Leave cruelty to Sixtus and his brutes

or it won't be Rome...

It'll be our own people who move against us.

Do me a kindness, brother.

When I ride out to meet Count Riario,

stay home.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have here the
shattered ankle bone of St Alibinus.

A single shard of which
is guaranteed to protect

against all pirates and all ruffians.

And, for a few soldi more,

the fingers of the
esteemed martyr St Bessus!

- It's Bess-us, you idiot!
- Oh, piss off.

- What causes this commotion?
- Who else wants some?

People have gathered for an execution.

Gentile Becchi wasn't meant to be
brought up until the full moon.

No, not Becchi. A servant.

Thanks to him, word of Riario's
incursion has spread like wildfire

and Lorenzo wants to make an example.

The Confraternity of
Death are such vultures.

Someone has to pray for the condemned.

This is ugly business for a lady.

No.

Even a lady must support
the Medicis against spies.

God.

How long will this take?

It can last hours.

God help any man who betrays Lorenzo.

What are you reading?

A Book of Hours.

In the original Latin, no doubt.

I always hated that language.

As was evident in your studies.

Perhaps you were simply a piss-poor teacher.

Perhaps.

I'm sorry it's come to this.

Mm.

Why didn't you tell us about
your family's need for money.

I would never have troubled
you with my relatives' mishaps.

But you would take coin from Rome?

Ask yourself, my boy.

If money had motivated me,
why wouldn't it have been spent already?

Instead of lying conveniently in
my quarters awaiting discovery.

Along with the papal seals of Rome.

I want to believe.

You counseled my grandfather Cosimo.
My father.

You've given your life
in service to Florence.

Always doing your best to
protect the Medici name.

But when I am gone, Giuliano,

I will no longer be able
to provide such protection.

Are you innocent of these charges or not?

- Of course I am.
- Then why don't you fight them?

Because your brother is
incapable of listening.

Lorenzo is consumed with wrath.

It blinds him to the dangers circling him.

There is a traitor in our midst.

After I am dead and
Lorenzo lowers his guard,

the traitor will still be here.

People underestimate you, Giuliano.

Yet that perceived weakness
makes you uniquely suited

to flushing out a spy from cover.

Look after your brother.

He needs you. Now more than ever.

Riario will advance from the south,

through the Valdarno Valley.

We'll place weapons on all sides,

but the majority will meet his men here.

- We'll be outnumbered.
- They'll be outgunned.

With ten guns? Are you certain?

We're casting more muskets.

I promise you you'll
never have to fire them.

Sometimes...

..when all your enemy knows is killing,

a simple deception can suffice.

Riario is far more clever than you think,
DaVinci.

Your wit won't get us out of this one.

Only your weapons will.

And I promise you they will fire.

- Magnifico!
- Commander.

- Artista.
- War engineer, actually.

That's a very handsome
stallion you have there.

- Andalusian, no?
- Mm.

Given to me personally by
Queen Isabella of Castile.

I've heard of these Andalusians.

I understand the breed's
prone to ischemic diseases,

reduced blood flow,
especially to the intestines,

which can lead to some
unfortunate anal blockage.

Undoubtedly, you're used to the smell
of shit following you wherever you go.

In an effort to avoid further bloodshed,

His Eminence has extended a list of demands.

First,
Florence will formally embrace into its bosom

Francesco Salviati as Archbishop of Pisa.

Second, the Medici Bank will
forgive the Holy See of all debts.

And third, you will release certain
artisans from their contractual obligations

so that they might employ their gifts

in service of His Holiness's new chapel.

And in which artist is
His Holiness interested?

One...Pietro Perugino.

One Sandro Botticelli.

- Oh, Jesus...
- Ooh.

Leonardo DaVinci.

I'd rather have my testicles
gnawed off by conger eels.

- Well, that can be arranged.
- And if we don't capitulate?

My forces will occupy Florence.

My guns will cut your men to ribbons.

Your fabled pipe organ muskets?

Well, yes, they will cut down some of them,
but not all.

Thanks to Giuliano's bumbling,

I was aware that you possessed ten guns,

and given that I've observed them,

I simply deduced their cyclic rate of fire.

Between them, they're capable of launching
33 volleys comprising 333 discharges.

Now, let's... Let's assume that...

two-thirds of them hit their mark.

But what happens while your
brave militiamen are reloading?

My remaining 400 ride out.

And, yes, we will use your precious
Florentines as target practice.

You face a walled city, Riario.

We can hold you off for
six months at the least.

It takes but one person to
open the gates from the inside.

Do you truly believe that in those months

the call of the Holy Father won't be
honored by a single soul in Florence?

You have 24 hours to ponder
the Holy Father's offer.

Enjoy your day.

We need more guns, DaVinci.

Our lives depend on it.

Shouldn't we be building guns

or at least preparing for the invasion?

- I'm sketching.
- Pomegranates.

Nothing escapes you.

Count Riario is nearly upon us.

I know damn well where Riario is!

- What are we doing here?
- I wonder about that myself.

Excuse us, Signora.

You're rather careless with your sketches,
Artista.

You left a sheaf of them
in my husband's study.

Shouldn't you be laboring
for the security of Florence?

There's something about this pomegranate.
I can't define it yet.

But the Greeks teach us
everything can be everything.

And everything can be
turned into everything else.

If we can't see the pattern
in God's architecture,

it's because we're not
looking closely enough.

Would you like your sketches back?

Of all of Lorenzo's treasures,

it was this bit of carved
stone that caught your eye.

Has your husband ever mentioned it to you?
Where it came from.

I believe he inherited it.

Perhaps from a man in the next room.

A magician.

Lorenzo's grandfather. Cosimo.

He ruled this city without
ever holding office.

Oh, there's something about him.

You're welcome to study him at any time.

But for now I'd rather you
returned to your guns. No?

I didn't come to Florence
to live under Roman rule.

DaVinci.

A treat. For indulging me.

Thank you for meeting with me -

especially with all the concerns about Rome.

I know this is unorthodox,
but circumstances forced my hand.

You know what's happened to Becchi.

The accusations that have been made.

I don't believe he's a traitor.

What do you want me to do?

Clarice has already agreed
to advocate for Becchi.

You own the other half of my brother's heart.
Will you do the same?

Are you so sure he's innocent?

I believe we can prove it.

Becchi has been giving me counsel.

Working with him,
I know we can trap the real traitor.

Please, Signora.

Temperature's right.

Leo.

The fat-kidneyed foreman requires your help.

What do we know of Lorenzo's ancestors?

His father was a good, but sickly, man.

Who lived in the shadow
of his father...Cosimo.

Wow. Really? How in fuck does this matter?

Rome's mercenaries are upon us.

Clarice Orsini gave me this today.

She said Lorenzo inherited it.

You're exhausted. Look at you.

Fixating on bric-a-brac when
we need more guns. It's insane.

The keys on it are identical
to the ones from the Jew.

The Vault of Heaven. The Book of Leaves.

How do the Medicis figure into it all?

Leo, I just don't see how a
fucking mantelpiece antique

keeps Riario's swords
from our fucking necks.

Christ, Zo.
Can you just drop it for one minute?

Do you have to prove your
ignorance so damn often?

When the Byzantine Empire
used the first cannons

against the Ottomans during
the siege of Constantinople,

the Turks were forced to flee.

30 years later,
they returned with cannons of their own.

Bigger cannons.

And after a 55-day siege
left such destruction...

..that the city will never be the same.

Constantinople fell.

Then we've always got to make
sure we've got the biggest cannon.

Oh...

It never ends.

Unless...

Unless I end it here.

Don't! That will cause an explosion!

- Don't!
- Aargh!

Maestro, what have you done?

Sealed our fucking fate.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.

How long has it been since
your last confession?

I'm...embarrassed to say.

Nearly a year.

Oh.

I have spoken with many shamed
penitents tonight, child.

The wheel reminds people of the punishments

awaiting those not
reconciled with Our Father.

It's horrid.

I fear I myself drive someone
toward a similar agony.

Every daughter of Eve
faces the same dilemma.

I have been untrue.

And now someone else is suffering for it.

And he will endure unimaginable pain...

- ..and it's my fault.
- If I may.

I have heard something of
the state of your marriage.

If you can offer up, even the smallest,

the tenderest bit of mercy,

I have no doubt it will be taken very well.

- Mercy has its risks.
- And rewards.

Liar!

"Good people of Florence,
the Medicis are leading you to death."

You have to give Riario some credit.

He knows how to intimidate his prey.

People say Riario has
2,000 men to burn the city.

I heard 3,000.

The city will be safe. I'll make sure of it.

Pride is a deadly sin, Artista.

II Capitano!

I didn't take you for a religious zealot.

A bully and an asshole, yes. A zealot?

It's...

I'm zealous about my family.

We pray every night that you're not
leading this city to destruction.

What? I have that much power, do I?

We've had nothing but trouble since you
talked your way into the Medici court.

Perhaps God is on the Count's
side in this business.

I don't believe in any god

who would side with that pig's bladder.

You blaspheme.

Men like you artistic perverts are
turning Florence into Gomorrah.

You're beating a quick path to the everlasting
bonfire and dragging us all with you.

I'll send you to the bonfire even sooner.

I know you're a better swordsman than I,
DaVinci.

Still...

..I've struck the bone, eh?

Do you really want to blunt
the edge of your blade on me

when you may need it sharp for Riario?

You're drunk, Leonardo.

Come on!

Oh, my God.

Jesus.

I heard what happened at the metal works.

You're better than this, Leonardo.

I thought I could save Florence.
I thought...

my talents would be enough, but they aren't.

I've got nothing.

And because of me,

tomorrow morning,
Lorenzo will be forced to surrender.

No, please. Florence and Rome have
been at it since before you were born.

- It's politics.
- No, it's...

It's personal.

I have something they want.

Yes. Your talent.

The Pope wants my talent.

Riario wants my key.

- What key?
- The key from...

Nothing.

Come here.

If something burdens you...

..maybe it's better just to let it go.

Wait. Wait.

What?

That's what Lorenzo requires of me.

Why did you destroy your guns?

Lorenzo.

He looked me in the eye and
told me I was an inventor.

But this isn't invention. This is...

It's escalation.
I build five, they build 50.

You might be the loveliest
man I've ever known.

Hey.

Why do you say it with such sadness?

Maybe it's because I think
none of us are worthy of you.

Why the pomegranates?

I don't know yet.

Do you know...

Now...Hades tricked Persephone
into eating pomegranates,

when she left the underworld.

She said that their magic
forced her to return to him.

It's true.

You should take one with you when you go.

It's not magic that binds me to you,
Leonardo.

I hope you kill that bastard Riario.

Leonardo!

Leonardo!

Leonardo!

Oh,
so you have the gall to remain in Florence?

You're either brave or unimaginably stupid.

A bit of both.

You sabotage our efforts. Why?

The guns wouldn't have ended this.

With all your experience in waging war,
you decided that, did you?

You little...

Fuck!

I can't believe I trusted you.

You, a bastard. A charlatan.
A peddler of knick-knacks!

My brother was right.
I was a fool to believe in you. A fool!

My only recourse is to offer
myself as Riario's hostage

and I'll have to pray that
if I put myself at his mercy,

that he will forego pillaging Florence.

I'll have to pray that he'll grant
Clarice and our children safe passage.

And I'll have to pray that every
trace of my name and my legacy

isn't struck from the streets!

You gather what little you hold
dear and you meet me in the field.

I want you by my side when I am
forced to accept Rome's terms.

And if Riario wants you...

..he can fucking have you.

Nico, it is good to see you again.

I trust your hand is mending.

Let us go straight to
the terms of surrender.

Indeed.

I have certain...

require certain assurances.

Florence and its citizens
are my chief concern...

Sorry. Sorry.

Um, we are clear whose
surrender we're discussing here?

It's yours.

DaVinci...

Nico, would you show the Count
and Captain General our gift?

Now, since you'd calculated
the capacity of my guns,

I've endeavored to improve Florence's odds.

It's a question of mathematics.

How to pack a group of spheres
in the most economic fashion.

And since nature always employs the most
efficient means to achieve her ends,

I've taken inspiration from her.

I call it the cluster bombard.

The casing houses a grouping
of smaller explosives,

an Archimedean solid,

which is separated by iron spacers.

So when the bombard lands,
it fragments into a fountain of shrapnel.

I estimate one bombard could take out
a dozen of your men and their mounts.

Now, I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking, "Well, fair enough.

A bombard's really only as good
as one's ability to lob it."

So, fair enough. You'd be right.

However...

Zo!

Let's go.

Impressive.

But how do I know that
contraption even works?

Allow me to demonstrate on a smaller scale.

First, we light the bombard.

Then we fire it...like so.

The real, full-scale bombard
doesn't carry fireworks, of course.

We will rain flame and
destruction down on your men

recalling Biblical devastation of old.

The peasants will pick the
bone fragments of your men

from these fields for decades to come.

You...everything you've accomplished,
will fade from memory.

Whereas our victory will
be lionized for centuries.

Perhaps.

Or perhaps regardless of what happens today,

the opposite tale will be told,
or no tale at all.

You see, a man once told me...

..History is a lie.

Well played, Artista.

You'd... You'd do well to remember, though,

that a war is waged on many fronts.

Hyah! Hyah!

You pulled off quite a feat, Leonardo.

I would have liked to see it fire.
Imagine the carnage.

Rome would have been
holding funerals for months.

The crossbow - it doesn't actually work.

It's more a feat of art than weaponry.

This sham...

is the work of drunken artists.

They're more skilled in
stage props than armaments.

How can we have built the
real device in one night?

Even if I had, the drawstring needed to fire
the damn thing would have been ludicrous.

- Look at it.
- You wagered our fate on a bluff?

- I did.
- You only bought us a temporary reprieve.

You can't keep on bluffing Rome forever.

Can't we?

Life's precious, Lorenzo.

Even a traitor's.

I believe...

it was your grandfather, Cosimo...

..who voiced a pertinent sentiment.

"We read that we ought
to forgive our enemies.

We do not read that we ought
to forgive our friends."

Sorry, brother. I was just having a rest.

Have you come to minister to the condemned?

Right.

I appreciate the visit but I've
already made peace with my maker.

Signora.

You.

You're the one that slipped
those documents into my quarters.

How long have they owned you?

A few years.

Then they approached you...

Before Lorenzo and I were involved.

Whatever promise they made,
they will not honor it.

You have no idea

of my circumstances.

There's more to this than Florence or Rome,

or my life.

Why are you here, Signora?

Because I do not wish to
see you broken on a wheel.

What?

Hemlock.

How?

A weapon stolen from the
Secret Archives in the Vatican.

A misericorde,
modified with a single dose of poison.

Its bite is almost never noticed.

So no evidence will arise

implicating Lorenzo's lover.

Consider it mercy.

This is the fastest and most
painless death I can offer.

And I will see that it takes.

This isn't mercy.

This is you... tying off loose ends.

Rome chose well.

- Guard!
- I'm sorry.

I wish there was another way.

Becchi!

Guards!

Guards, quickly!

Hemlock.

- Becchi would not have done this.
- The vial speaks for itself.

And you have a history
of not believing things

that Becchi has clearly done.

Question is, brother,

who brought Becchi this poison?

Was it someone who
sympathizes with his plight?

If I were to defy you, brother,
I wouldn't don a mask to do it.

But what do you care?

The traitor is dead, Florence is secure

and you've a war engineer to fete.

All is well in the Republic tonight.

The names and charges written on this paper

require our immediate attention as Priori.

An anonymous denunciation?

The author's unimportant.

This matter demands investigation.

I'd caution you to consider
who will be implicated.

As Priori,
you are duty bound to uphold the law,

unconcerned by who whomever
it may incriminate.

Interrogate the victim mentioned here,
Captain.

Once he confirms the charges,
make your arrest.

Wow, look at you!

Venetian breeches,
bit of velvet, bit of brocade.

Did you buy those with your Medici vouchers?

What concern is it of yours?

Who traded in chits to muster the men

to sneak your phony crossbow out of the city?
Hm?

Who assembled all the pieces in the
middle of the night, risking his life?

Cos it wasn't Nico.
Yet somehow that little bull's pizzle

wins an invitation to
Lorenzo's palazzo and I don't.

Nico hasn't been arrested a
dozen times for lewd behavior,

and pickpocketing, grave robbing.

I can't have you there tonight, Zo. Sorry.

These people...

decorum means everything to them.

Where is your guest of honor, Lorenzo?

If we're to praise an artist,
perhaps it should be Signor Botticelli.

At least he has blessed
up with his presence.

No need to honor someone who
honors themselves so well, brother.

Every time I find myself looking for DaVinci,
he seems to have...

vanished like smoke.

Is there a reason you're avoiding the party,
Maestro?

It's being held in your honor.

Something's needling me, Nico.

Till I can discover what it...

Ha!

Yes!

The old magician's laughing.

I'm an idiot.

The symbols couldn't be clearer.

I am a son of Earth and Starry Heaven.

I am thirsty. Please give me something
to drink from the fountain of Memory.

The invocation for the Sons of Mithras.
Look.

A bull pulling a plow.

Christian iconography but it's
also the pagan symbol for Earth.

A star-filled heaven.

A chalice, symbolic of a fountain.

And flowers. Ne M'oubliez Pas, in French.

Forget-me-nots.

Memory.

Cosimo de Medici...

..was a Son of Mithras.

It's as if all my inquiries are converging.

It's as if a grand web is being spun.

One so incalculably wide and ancient

that I'm only now beginning
to grasp its scope.

I have proven myself to Lorenzo.

I've earned his trust.

It's time for him to repay me in kind.

By doing what?

By funding an expedition.

To the land indicated on the Jew's map.

A ship, provisions for a journey.

The Vault of Heaven is out there, Nico.

It's harboring the Book of Leaves.

All the knowledge it contains,
I can hear it calling to me.

And the magician is leading me to it.

My grandfather, Cosimo, had a dream.

That our streets and squares would be
a haven for science, art and learning.

No son of Florence better represents
those ideas than Leonardo DaVinci.

I name you...

..Grand Master of the Order
of St John the Baptist,

patron saint of Florence.

I give you the living embodiment
of classical brilliance.

Leonardo DaVinci.

Please, Maestro,
won't you grant us a few words?

Florence's greatest export
has always been its ideas.

Our Republic represents the
cutting edge of inquiry.

We are inventing the future.

But we can only remain vital
if we keep on pushing outwards,

so I propose a bold new step.

I have learned of a land,
your Magnificence, to the west.

It's largely uncharted but it's
certain to contain wonders.

Now, with your patronage,
I shall mount an expedition.

We will voyage...

Captain Dragonetti,
what is the meaning of this affront?

My apologies, Signor.

A grave accusation has been
levied against one of your guests.

I know nothing of any accusations.

May I remind you, Nazzareno,
that you answer to me.

Technically, I answer to the Signoria,
your Magnificence.

Of which you are but one voice.

I couldn't dissuade them, Signor.
It's protocol.

Our hands were tied.

Go on then, Captain.

It has come to the attention
of the Officers of the Night,

by means of secret denunciation,

that one Leonardo di ser Piero DaVinci

has committed, in violation of the
statutes of the Republic of Florence,

and divine and natural law,
the grievous act of sodomy.

Said individual is to be
immediately remanded...

These are lies. This is slander!

..whereupon he will remain

until the Magistrates ascertain
his guilt or innocence.

Should he be found guilty,

he will be led through the public
squares to the Palace of Justice

and there be burned so that he dies...

..and his body is separated from his soul.

No! You...

This is your work, Francesco.

I smell the Pazzi stench
all over this charade.

The denunciation is real, Lorenzo.

We've a victim willing to testify.

No-one has been sentenced for
this crime for more than 50 years.

And yet it's still on the statute books.

If you've issues with it,
take it up with your forebear Cosimo.

Was it not he who revised
Florence's constitution?

Or would you flout our fair
Republic's laws as you see fit?

I was under the impression
we lived in a democracy.

- Not a dictatorship.
- Your wrists, Signor.

I told you you'd beat a quick
path to the bonfire, Artista.

= sync, corrected by elderman =