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[♪]

♪ The Borgias 2x03 ♪
The Beautiful Deception
Original Air Date on April 22, 2012

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

[♪]

(crowd murmuring)

Oh, beautiful.

Oh you like that one for you?

Giovanni.

Cesare!
Good Morning, Sis.

Why are you here?

Let me take you back home.

I would have a look
through the market.

No it's getting... hot.

What's wrong?
Nothing.

You can't hide things
from me, Brother.

I'll take you
through the square.

Cut him down!
It's a boy!

Hurry up!

Give me a hand!
Quickly!

I need a sharper blade.

No! No!

Lucrezia!

LUCREZIA!

No!

Don't look.

Then pluck my eyes out-

(hysterical weeping)

You think this is spectacle?

Paolo!

You like to stare at tears?
Go away!

(hysterical weeping)

It's all my fault.
It's all my fault.

It's all my fault.

It was a suicide.

I am still to blame.

I took his love.

I took his kindness.

I took his child.

And the pity was,
he loved a Borgia.

Please.
Don't.

Please, my love,
don't blame yourself.

"To my Lucrezia,
I bid farewell."

Make way there.
Step aside.

Take care of the body.

Water!
I need warm water!

And a physician!

Yes, Your Eminence.
I want to die.

No.
I want to die, Brother.

Will you not talk
like that, please?

I want to die.

You have a child to care for.

(baby crying)

Now we both must die.

Like Paolo.

I'll see to the baby.

You try to sleep.

(baby crying)

Can't you quieten him?

The child is hungry,
Your Eminence.

Well, feed him then?

He has yet only fed at
his mother's breast.

You cannot disturb her.

Find a way.

Your Eminence.

Get in there.
Look after her.

St. Peter's pence-

Sanctissimus in Christo
Pater et Dominus noster,

Dominus Alexander.

St. Peter's pence,
St. Peter's pence.

St. Peter's pence.

Divina providentia
Papa Sextus,

dat et concedit
Christifidelibus

cunctis, qui hic adsunt,

Indulgentiam Plenariam
in forma Ecclesiae.

St. Peter's pence.

Rogate Deum pro felici
statu Sanctitatis Suae

et Sanctae Matris Ecclesiae.

We grant to all who contribute
to St. Peter's pence

a plenary indulgence from the
pain and suffering of Purgatory.

Sancti Apostoli Petrus et
Paulus: de quorum potestate-

Not willing to pay for
eternal salvation, Brother?

Cheap at the price surely?

So is talk, Brother.

And dangerous too.

I have even heard
tell of a cardinal

who has changed his
robes from red to brown.

From where do you come?

I was recently the guest of
the good sisters of St. Agnes

whose greetings
I bring you-

and where do we travel to

is the more important
question, is it not?

Important questions all.

Break bread with me, Brother,
and we may discuss them further.

-Patriis et filli

et spiritus sancti.

Amen.

ALL:
Amen.

Leave us.

Your Eminence.

I've had tragic news, Father.

Oh!

We thought we had hoped
to have banished tragedy.

It's the father of
your daughter's child.

There is a father?

Of course.

He has been found dead.

Where?
In Pesaro?

No, here in Rome.

He dared to come to Rome?

He tried to see her,
and his infant son.

And we would hope
that he failed.

Of course.

And he-

He took his own life.

And our daughter
knows of this?

Yes.

Stupid boy.

To come to Rome.

So you are concerned
about Lucrezia.

And the child.

Why the child?

She won't allow
him near her.

(Giovanni crying throughout)

Lucrezia.

Lucrezia!

You have lost someone
we didn't know.

Didn't know of.

Had we known of his
presence here in Rome,

we would have sent him home.

But the act of suicide puts the
sinner beyond the grace of God.

Beyond our pity.

And beyond your
affections, surely.

Hmm?

Sh, sh, sh.

There, there, there.

Your child is crying for you.

Come on, give me your hand.

Give me your hand.

Give me your hand and
raise yourself up.

You must, you must
return to your child.

Come along, come.

Tell us what can we do
to make things right.

Ask Juan.

Sh, sh, sh.
Your Holiness.

Sh, sh, sh.
What's this?

Is it fever?

It will follow, as
night follows day.

Cesare, we must bring
her to her senses.

She blames herself.

Why, pray would she do that?

For entertaining his hopes.

Well, how could
she have done that?

I arranged a meeting.
At my mother's house.

Are you insane?

You married her to a brute!

She found solace
with a stable boy.

He came to Rome!

He died in Rome.

Did Juan have a hand in this?

(baby's cries continue)

I will not have this
family torn apart.

And I will see
that child survive.

(Priest praying throughout)

Your friend is no Dominican.

No.

He is of the capuchin order.

And he always eats with you?

Since my wine was poisoned.

You're safe here.

So it seems.

I would join your order.

And if we refuse you?

Why then, I shall have
to join the capuchins.

But their rule
is not as strict.

Their vows not as binding.

Friar Savonarola is a
Dominican, after all.

He is.

And your order shares his
abhorrence of the Borgia pope.

We would restore the
church, Cardinal.

Brother.

Call me Brother Giuliano.

Since we share the same aims.

Brother Giuliano.

But do we share
the same methods?

That is what I would
discuss with you.

You of all people should
understand, Rodrigo.

The need to see one's child.

It was beyond foolish.

But you can forgive
her, surely?

The question is, can
she forgive herself?

You met this boy?

Barely.

You allowed our mother's house
to play brothel for him.

I know little of
brothels, Brother.

Juan...

(door shuts)

Did you meet him?

I saw her meet a peasant at
the fountain of St. Agatha.

If you had a hand
in his death,

now is the time to
confess it to us.

Then I confess.

To what?

That I didn't.

Rodrigo!

Rodrigo!

You would see your
daughter married again?

Perhaps.

Then have that peasant buried
in a pauper's grave, unshriven.

And be thankful he didn't
bring more shame

on your perfect family.

Be careful,
be very careful...

or you might find yourself
wearing peasant shoes.

No, no no.

What you propose
is unthinkable.

I have thought about
it long and hard.

Each and every
cardinal is in his pay.

We have unleashed a
wolf upon this world,

and if we do not act,
he will consume us all.

And how would you
achieve this end?

I have no idea.

But my soul has
crossed that Rubicon.

If there are those
within your order

who would cross
it with me,

we can find a way.

Our brother friar,
Savonarola, in Florence,

prophesied the end of days.

But not the murder
of the Pope of Rome.

Do you dare broach
it with him?

If I did,
and I had his approval,

would I have yours?

You would have mine,
and all within this priory.

(bell tolling)

(Giovanni crying throughout)

You must talk to me, my love.

You are the light of my life,

the light of this family's life.

If that light goes...

I would ask just one
thing of you, Father.

Anything.

Permit my Paolo a
Christian burial.

He is a suicide.
It is impossible.

This note was pinned
to his sleeve.

Yes.
A suicide-

But he could not read
or write, Father!

My Paolo could not
even pen his own name.

So it was murder.

Where is the murderer?

Too close for comfort.

I will not have this
family at war with itself.

And I would have my Paolo
saved from the fires of hell.

And your infant must feed.

(loud cries)

His fever grows.

The father of Giovanni
took his own life.

So it seems.

And this poor
child must feed.

So his father must have what
suicides are forbidden.

A Christian burial.

So we admit.

It was no suicide.

No, Rome is a
dangerous place.

Far too dangerous.

Will you perform the rite?

Gladly.

Lucrezia, we ask that you
give this child your breast

so its father may be buried
with the church's blessing.

You have saved my Paolo from
the fires of Hell, Father.

And I love you for it.

(baby cries)

Shh, sh.

Holy Father.

Have you come to confess?

That I am sorry.
And-

For what?

For my sister.

And for her loss.

You will choose a bride

in your ancestral homeland,
Spain.

You will travel there

and you will become
the Borgia...

...I always hoped
you would be.

Et ne nos inducas
in tentationem.

Sed libera nos a malo.

Requiem aeternam
dona ei, Domine.

Say goodbye to your
father, my love.

You must cry for me.

For I have no more tears.

Requiescat in pace.
Amen.

Go ahead.

(men calling out)

Forward! Forward!

Keep your place.

I admire your artistry.

Ars longa; vita brevis.

But since King Ferrante died,
I find time weighs heavily.

Few have needs of my talents.

Oh, I would use them.

But as an informant,
not as a taxidermist.

I need word on his
troop's movements

and on your king's
intentions.

The king is ill.

How ill?

Too ill to remain
in Naples.

Then I will bide my time
and await for your word.

He has had visitors
from the Romagna.

Of any renown?

Sforzas.

Giovanni and Catherina.

I will visit you again.

And if the king
decides to ride north,

your armies would
ride with his?

Yes.

In return for a
certain consideration.

And this consideration?

His cannon.

(chuckling)

You would have him leave his
cannon to the Sforza armies?

Not every piece.

But enough to defend
our castle at Forli.

To replicate the great
fortresses of France.

Giovanni Sforza.

And my cousin, Catherina
Sforza, Your Majesty.

You have many cousins,
I have been told.

Are they all
impotent, like you?

(laughter)

That is a vile
Borgia slander,

perpetrated by
the pope himself.

Which is why you
are here, of course.

You would have a
taste of vengeance.

The Italian appetite
for vengeance

astounds even us,
Lord Sforza.

The Italian appetite
for vengeance

may be boundless,
Majesty,

but happily for you the
Spanish appetite for war is not.

(sounds of lovemaking)

(sounds of lovemaking)

What say you to Donna, to
Donna Gabriella my love?

I say "yes" to
Donna Gabriella!

And to La Marquesa-
La Marquesa Maria.

No!
Isobella-

No!
Juana-

No!

(sound of lovemaking continues)

(sound of lovemaking continues)

Who is your favourite?

Maria Enrique de Luna.

Forgive me, Brother.

Had I realised-

You're keeping
late hours, Sis.

Not of my choosing, Brother.

Perhaps you could spare a
thought for your nephew

trying to sleep downstairs?

Forgive me Sis.

But-
Bernadetta.

Bernadetta here was
helping me choose a wife.

What do you think
of our favourite-

Maria Enrique de Luna?

She's pretty.

And clearly no peasant.

She is royalty, Sis.

Cousin to Queen Isabella.

So.
You must marry her then.

I have your permission?

You need it?

I need your blessing.

I know you have
been sad of late.

You would have to have
my forgiveness first.

Forgiveness for what?

For being yourself.

(clearing throat)

You should get back to
the task at hand, Brother,

and I to my lonely bed.

Good night.

Sleep well.

(laughter)

(sounds of lovemaking)

(laughter)

(sounds of lovemaking)

(humming)

♪ I took a bow and
aimed it low... ♪

(sounds of lovemaking)

♪ And caught you on the
chin-chin-chin... ♪

♪ My mother said,
"Now go to bed. ♪

♪ I'll have to lock
you in, in, in. ♪

(scream)

(groaning)

(whimpering)

Ah!

Help! Help!

My God!
Get her off me.

For the love of God, man,
get her off me!

(whimpering)

(grunting)

(whimpering)

My lord?

Medics, NOW!

Yes, Your Eminence.

(chuckling)

From the Judas Cradle
to the Judas Chair.

He did not enjoy
the cradle, did he?

No, my liege.

I would say he did not.

Maybe the chair will
suit him better.

Angle his head,
if you will.

So he can gaze
at his Saviour.

Yes, Your Majesty.

He is about to betray
him, after all.

We have the sense
of an ending, at least.

Prepare to leave this
abattoir tomorrow.

We leave for Rome.

See you when
I come back next.

Au Revoir.

You have news for me?

He has ordered the
evacuation of Naples.

And the king will travel
with his troops, yes?

And Sforza arms.

It will take days to
gather such an army.

Three at least.

So I must hurry.

This is for
your retirement...

Thank you.

Thank you.

(gasps)

...and for your silence.

I remember so very
little of Spain, Mother.

And if we had stayed,

how different things
could have been.

You have regrets?

Regrets are part of life.

Regret is part of Rome.

Let me serve you, Brother.

You have no regrets
do you, dear Juan?

No burning ones, no.

Good.

Then perhaps I shall
drop in on you unexpectedly...

...one day soon in Spain.

What is it with you
children tonight?

May I make a speech,
Mother?

You may.

We were outsiders
when we came here.

Spaniards,
Catalans.

And we endured
the insults.

The taunts of Murrano.
The...

Bile?

The poison?

The insidious invective
of the Roman nobility.

And you, dear mother,
endured it most of all.

But if we managed to triumph,
and triumph we did,

we did because
of the warmth

that we discovered
around this table.

The warmth of the Spanish sun,
of our Catalan blood,

that you recreated
in your hearth,

in your home,
at this table.

The huge, unstoppable
beating heart of La Madre.

La Madre!

Mother.

Let us drink then.
To-

To family.

To family!

(bells tolling, cheering)

Godspeed, my lord.

Safe journey to you, my lord!

Gonfaloniere!

Farewell, General Borgia.

May you prosper, my lord.

Gonfaloniere, farewell!

God be with you!

Travel well, Gonfaloniere!

Safe journey, my lord!
Our hearts go with you.

God's blessing, my lord!

Farewell my lord!

A sad day to lose a
brother, is it not Cesare?

Indeed.

I wonder that the sun
even dares to shine.

(giggle)

(panting)

Anyone who rides
that hard has news.

Bad news as always,
Your Eminence.

The king is on the move.

With vengeance in his heart.

He feels he was deceived.

So he was.

A most beautiful deception.

He says he will
use his cannon

to reduce our walls to dust.

He says he will rape Rome as
Rome raped the Sabine women,

that he'll strip her
of her treasures

to make up
for his losses.

How long to move an army of
that size from Naples to Rome?

A week.
Ten days at most.

We must make haste then.

You have a plan?

We fight fire with fire.

You will supervise with
the greatest speed

and the utmost
secrecy,

the construction
of one hundred cannon,

to be mounted on the walls
of this city

and to be ready for
deployment within the week.

Every foundry in Rome will be
suborned for this purpose.

His Eminence will see
that you are furnished

with everything
you may need.

Good luck to you
and god speed.

What of the
consistory, Father?

They will run
again, like rats.

Ah, the consistory.

I may need your help
to convince them.

You tricked the French king
and now he comes for our blood!

Do you expect us to
support you twice?

We will defend Rome
this time with our life.

With your guile again?
Your lies?

Your weasel words?

No.

Then tell us how,
Your Holiness.

(gasps)

(chuckling)

With gunpowder.

(chuckling)

(coughing)

We have ordered one hundred
cannon, ten times this size.

We will defend this great
city of ours with our lives,

with our funds-
and with our cannon.

Take the other end.

A month?

Per cannon,
per foundry, yes.

I have a first
mould already made--

Every foundry in Rome-
how many are there?

Twenty, maybe thirty but-

Every foundry in
Rome, every smelter,

furnace man
working day and night-

how many might
we make then?

One cannon-
maybe two.

What?

My Lord, our bronze
was all sold.

On orders from
his Holiness.

To pay for the
Great Festivities.

Forgive me, my Lord.

Boy, check the
cart out again.

How like that little cannon
is our great city of Rome.

A fragile illusion
of substance.

Indeed my Lord,
it is but plaster.

The mould is
only half-full.

Why plaster?

Before we cast the
mould in bronze,

we make a sample
in plaster.

And plaster, unlike bronze,
sets fast, is plentiful-

And cheap.

Have you heard,
Brother?

The French are
advancing from Naples.

They will be here
within days.

They may murder the
Borgia pope for you.

(monkey chittering)

He tricked the king once.

And he suffered for it.

He will take his revenge

and spare you the blemish
on your eternal soul.

(chittering)

If I was not now
bound to poverty,

I would take
a wager with you.

Borgia duplicity
might yet undo him.

And I would bet
that you would lose.

Forgive my appearance,
Your Eminence.

We have worked long
hours without sleep and-

I only care about your work,
Signor Vittorio.

The fate of all of us
depends on it.

[work continuing in background]

[hollow sound]

This is true artistry.

I'm pleased it
pleases you, my lord.

And there are-

Ninety-five more like it

making their way from other
foundries as we speak.

Ha!

Perhaps our fragile illusion
will yet have substance.

It will, my Lord.

Take it from one who knows!

You're a-

Yes, my Lord.

Forgive me, I thought
perhaps your father-

My father?

What does my father-

But clearly I was mistaken.

Is nothing in this damned
city what it seems?

At least I know you
can keep a secret.

The French envoy still awaits
your word, Holy Father.

I know.

He's been waiting
all night.

I know, I know!

King Charles merely asks for
safe passage through Rome.

To rape and pillage
in safety!

He has reason
enough to hate us.

As do Catherina and
Giovanni Sforza.

A holy trinity
of vengeance.

Shall we have our
cannon, my son?

Take the other end.

Place more men here.

More rope on the tackle!

You need to
trust me, Father.

For once.

Tell that envoy that Rome is
more than just her walls.

She is the Eternal City

and she will not be
raped and deflowered.

Tell him Rodrigo Borgia
spake these words.

[indistinct shouts]

Whoa!

I have word for the king.

You are denied entry
to Rome, my liege.

Are they mad?

Your Spanish pope has
more appetite for war

than you imagined,
Lady Catherina.

So we must will ourselves
to battle once more.

You think the blood
of the Borgia pope

could cure us,
Catherina Sforza?

We could bathe in it
together, Majesty.

(laughs)

[indistinct shouting]

Pull the weights!

There is no weight, sir.

You must be getting stronger!

(soldiers' laughter)

Steady!

You there!

Pull it all the way forward.

Bring it in!

Careful!

(laughs)

It's useless.

What's this?
Look at this.

Yes, We'll have no a problem
beating them now, lads.

We've got a
fucking toy cannon.

(gasps)

(thud)

Oh no!
What happened?

Is he dead?

You will pretend these
cannons have weight-

-that they are real.

As real as this.

Armature!

Yes sir.

Back to work.

Armature!

Present pilum!

Bring the next one up.

Will it pass?

Barely.
Let's pray.

How long to batter
the walls apart?

The walls are 10 foot thick,
my liege.

Twelve hours of fire
should achieve it.

Twelve hours of cannon fire.

Could I perhaps
sleep through it?

(laughs)

If Your Highness
puts wax his ears.

The fever returns?

It never leaves us,
Catherina Sforza.

But the smell of battle
will be its own medicine.

It does quicken the blood.

(chuckling)

[indistinct shouting]

(murmuring)

And what does your son
know about artillery?

I know enough.

And of combat, if
it comes to it?

Again, I know enough and
it will not come to that.

Can you be sure?

Go with God, my son.

Push!

(men calling out)

Take your positions!

Men in position!

All ready.

Open the gates!

Open the gates!

[horse whinnies]

[indistinct shouting]

You make a manly figure
on your horse, Cardinal.

But the French cannon will
soon break down your walls.

And you will be impotent
in the face of them.

My walls may yet prove stronger
than you think, my lady.

Passer pour le roi!

The King!

Make way!

Move to your left!

We have Italian friends,
Cardinal Borgia,

but our business
is all French.

And that business is?

To gain entry to
the city of Rome.

The easy way, or the hard.

You have decorated the walls of
Rome with flags and pennants.

To welcome us, we presume.

Your Highness is
indeed welcome.

To march on past Rome.

I warn you, Cardinal,
I shall raze your city!

Take terrible revenge!

On you, your family,
and the papacy itself!

You must enter first.

My cannon will gain me entry.

Twelve hours,
I have been assured-

to batter down
those walls.

Perhaps my cannon will make
their statement first.

(neighing)

Cannons forward!

Forward!

Rams!

Rams ready!

More cannon balls!
Quickly, quickly!

How did he manage to...

General?

Our battle line is still
forming, my liege.

Load, load!

I must compliment Your
Highness on his ingenuity.

Chained cannonballs can
take apart a regiment

like a knife
through butter.

Are you not well,
your Highness?

We have the
Neapolitan fever.

Perhaps battle
should wait then.

Until his full
health returns.

Or perhaps he should
trace his gracious path

home to fair France.

(murmuring)

Do I give the signal,
my liege?

Do I look like a fool,
General?

No, my liege.

We ride on past.

Retreat!

Retreat!

Come down and retreat!

(bells pealing)

[cheering]

Do you know what
that sound is?

It is the sound
of our salvation.

Deo gratias!

The French are leaving!

[laughing]

It's a miracle!

God is great!

[cheering]

(bells pealing)

Your Holiness.

Father!

They're leaving Rome.

Father!

Oh, thank God.

Thank God.

My son.

We should melt down
that bell, Holy Father.

Why melt it down?

To make cannon.

(gasps)

Real cannon, this time.

(laughs)

Cesare, your genius worked!

HA!

(laughs)

So clever!

== sync, corrected by elderman ==