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You must be so excited to see your husband.

Indeed.

He prepares our quarters.

Which will have no need of a cradle.

Oh, no, no, no, Lucrezia.

- I'll not cry, Father. -Give him to me.

This king will not see my tears.

This marriage was your choice.

It was. And I still love my husband...

...but I will not have that love poisoned with politics.

We will love him as our own, Lucrezia.

You'll be all right.

Man the gate.

Gonzaga.

He is not with us?

No.

But he made a contribution of his own special kind.

Madam, you know you're going to have to leave us.

Is that what you want?

No.

But your husband...

...muttering scandal.

You are going to have to go back to him.

- But I cannot. -Why not?

Because...

...l am the lily of the valley.

And the king hath brought me to his chambers.

Scandal may be the prerogative of kings...

...but we are the Pope of Rome.

We have a Church to run.

"Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth."

Must you always quote scripture?

I could exhaust myself in an account of the Borgia Pope's licentiousness...

...but that would be boring.

Can licentiousness ever be boring?

It can be tedious in the extreme, as His Holiness might soon discover.

Tell us what you're proposing.

A union...

...of Italian families.

Vitelli, Colonna, Baglioni, Orsini.

Like the fasciiae of the Caesars. Together, we would be unbreakable.

And all that under you?

A woman?

I propose myself.

Feel free to propose yourself, Roberto.

But I have the arms, the cannon, and the castle and, unlike you...

...my hatred of the Borgia Pope is public already. Common knowledge.

This pope has an army too.

And we have all seen it at work.

I dispelled it from beneath these walls.

- His son, Juan Borgia-- -His son, Cesare Borgia...

...is nothing like his brother.

He has vigour, I admit.

But does his father trust him enough to grant him the papal army?

No, he sends him to France.

So father fights with son, like two bears in a pit.

And this...

Believe me...

...this is our moment.

So be with me...

...my family, my arms...

...or against me.

Her rhetoric is persuasive.

As is her plan.

All roads lead to Rome and pass through the Romagna.

Yes, Baglioni, yes, but what if it is just rhetoric?

What she threatens means war, Orsini.

Perhaps war with more than Rome.

The pope's daughter married Naples.

His son journeys to France.

I say we keep our counsel...

...until he returns.

My Lord Borgia.

You look quite sober for a duke.

And you look quite priestly for a king.

The king is hunting.

And please do not take it amiss.

There are diplomatic niceties to observe.

Even for the son of a pope.

My Lord.

The bastard son of a Borgia Pope.

His love is better than wine.

Oh, but now, he needs...

He needs sleep.

For the wolf shall lie down with the lamb.

And the leopard shall lie with the goat.

And a little child shall lead them.

You will find a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes...

...lying in a manger.

Signor Machiavelli. Good morning.

I heard you had business in Avignon.

Sadly, as you come, we go.

Does Florence have an interest in France?

Florence has an interest in everything.

So tell me, what do you think of this one?

Forsake the colourful display.

Wear the simple black satin.

Really? Why?

They have never met a Riario, or a Medici, let alone a Borgia.

Italian wealth unsettles them.

As much as they want it, it offends their martial nature.

Well, black satin it is, then.

Keep it black.

As you do so well.

Do you have advice on anything other than presentation?

But presentation is everything.

This king desires more than Naples.

He has an equal fondness for Milan.

- But I didn't say that. -N0. N0, you said black.

Yeah.

Has your heart ever been sick, Micheletto?

There are some who would doubt I even have a heart, my lady.

Well, unfortunately, I do. And mine is weeping.

Can you cure it?

You will be with your husband soon enough.

It's not weeping for my husband.

It is weeping for my son.

Your brother tells me this king has forbid you see him, yes?

And how do I make him change his mind, Micheletto?

We will find a way.

Lady Lucrezia Borgia, Duchess of Bisceglie.

There they are.

Oh, let me help.

I missed you.

- Safe trip? -Yes, thank you.

So, this is Naples.

You must call it home.

Will calling it home make it so?

Your Royal Highness.

My lady.

You are the Duchessa Gonzaga and you will always remain so.

You have to return to your husband.

Quench any hint of scandal between us.

You have been here too long, madam.

The pope is sad because his children have left him.

No, madam, you are not--

You're not listening to me.

Thatsadness may soon be put to rest.

How so?

I am with child, Your Holiness.

Well, then you must-- Your duty is to return to your husband.

And the child is not his.

The fruit of my womb will be the fruit of your loins.

You imply this child is ours.

I am sure it is, as is my husband.

We haven't shared a bed for a year.

Oh, this is madness.

Wonderful madness.

- Worthy of the Song of Solom0n-- -You say he knows?

Well, he asked me to perform an act so heinous and so bloody...

...but I could not bear to contemplate it.

What, he asked you to murder the child?

Our child.

So I shall bear you a son, and you will be sad no longer.

For the king hath brought me to his chambers.

Yes, and the angel said unto her:

"Fear not, for thou hast found favour unto God.

And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb and bring forth a son."

It is a French custom, Duke de Valentinois...

...to await their Highnesses' attention before bowing low before them.

Is the queen still in residence?

Of course.

It's the same queen for whom I carry the papal brief of annulment?

Not on your person, surely?

In my back pocket.

I shall take care not to bow too low then.

Otherwise, the queen might see her destiny...

...protruding from my bastard Borgia arse.

Presenting the Duke de Valentinois, and the ambassador of the Holy See...

...His Excellency Cesare Borgia.

Once a cardinal, I believe.

Indeed I was, Your Highness.

And now a duke.

Please, explain.

Well, I found the need, madam...

...to divorce myself from my bride, the Holy Mother Church.

Can it be done that easily?

With difficulty.

And not without soul searching.

But with the help of a papal brief, anything is possible.

Well, you are noble now, after a fashion.

You may kiss my hand.

And you may kiss my cheek.

In the true French manner.

You are in search of a bride, I believe, huh?

Among my ladies-in-waiting?

Carlotta D'Aragona...

...or Charlotte D'Albret...

...Ol'__

No, not for you.

If you were to return to your husband...

- Then I must murder this child. -No.

We will afford you every support...

...in the confines that are appropriate to your condition.

Your chambers are more than appropriate.

No, that is impossible.

We were thinking perhaps...

What?

Convent with the Sisters.

Oh, that is impossible.

I'm the lily of the valley, and the king has taken me to his chambers.

The marriage of Alfonso D'Aragona and Lucrezia Borgia...

...was more than just a union of body and soul.

It was the restoration of historic contacts between Rome and Naples...

...between the Vatican and Spain.

So let us raise our glasses...

...to the falling of the French winter...

...and to the coming of the true Italian spring.

To harmony between our states...

...and to this new family that we welcome into our bosom as our own.

I have a child, Your Highness, who must someday hear those words.

What did she say?

A child?

A child, you say?

I seem to remember one, yes.

How odd.

And is this child your husband's?

If he is mine, he is my husband's, surely.

We would welcome any fruit of your union.

Meanwhile, all other fruit is best forgotten as if it never existed.

So let us drink, once again, to the harmony between our states.

Harmony.

To this family that we welcome as our own.

This queen is actually quite comely.

But barren.

The king will be rid of her.

I am aware you come here bearing one quite significant gift.

And I am aware that this gift will not be given cheaply.

It may not, archbishop, be given at all.

Then I would propose myself as a facilitator in this matter.

You need a well-born bride.

The least of my needs.

Then let me guess the others.

A French duchy for the newly-made Duke de Valentinois?

One of the more ancient titles to banish the arriviste odour.

Do I smell, then?

Only of expensive Italian perfume.

The Order of the Golden Rose, perhaps?

The most prestigious the French King can bestow.

That would indeed be welcome.

And French support for your father's Italian adventures.

What I need most of all, cardinal...

...is an army.

An army?

Horses, cannon, infantry, savoliere lancers; an army.

An army that can cut through Italy...

...like a knife through butter.

- You called me cardinal. -I did indeed.

A little premature, perhaps, archbishop...

...but a papal brief is not the only gift in my gift.

Is this what--? ls this what you French call dancing?

Your Highness.

Not her.

She is properly noble for you, the bastard child of a minor aristocrat.

- You are too kind, madam. -Oh, I am.

My husband has often remarked upon the very fact.

- Your husband is also kind. -Oh, my husband smells...

...of horse manure and the hunt.

If you could persuade him to bathe more often...

...l might find you a better bride.

I will do my utmost, madam.

And if he comes to you smelling of roses, my reward is?

A duchess, perhaps.

Legitimate? Maybe.

Here, try this one...

...Charlotte D'Albret.

She hates me.

She must, she recommended you to me.

So she hates you too?

She hates us both.

Hardly a reason for courtship, surely.

I come with some admirable qualities.

So I have heard.

And what do you demand of marriage, Cesare Borgia?

A title. An heir. A dowry.

What of everlasting love?

Of course. That too. How could I forget?

What do you ask of it, Charlotte D'Albret?

A child.

I would have a husband whose physique promises he is handsome.

And what of everlasting love?

Oh, I'm glad you reminded me. That too.

But Rome...

...l'm not sure I could live in Rome.

All of that heat, the conspiracy.

You will not have to.

Are we married already?

They went that way.

Should I care?

The noble hunts the boar.

The peasant scratches the grass.

- But they both must eat, surely? -They must.

You should mind where he grazes.

It's just grass.

Those ferns, they hide the Galerina.

This tiny bolus could kill a horse.

You have a use for it?

I have a use for everything.

Some kill, some cure. Each has its moment.

On your way, my lady. Kill that boar.

- Tell us. -She is not with child.

So she is deranged?

Entirely without reason?

She's deranged but not without reason.

She was with child.

The child was out from her, most cruelly.

Her womb is scarred forever.

The event has unhinged her.

So, what is to be done?

For her body or her mind?

For her soul.

Rest, tranquillity, prayer.

Have you ever had a child, Micheletto?

No, my lady. I have none.

But if you had?

I would bind them to me with hoops of steel.

And I would love them till death and beyond.

And I would make all tremble who tried to come between us.

- So you have a heart. -I must have.

Yes.

It is the thought of the child being kept from you, its mother...

...that makes it break.

That's a bull's-eye. Yes.

If, God forbid, this king were to die...

...who would succeed him?

Your husband.

He is but a cousin on the mother's side.

- Oh, good shot. -This king is strong, my lady.

His father lived a long life.

He will be with us a long time.

Until my son is a boy no longer?

That's why I'm the king.

So you can free me of this wife of mine?

Your Highness, I would do anything to free you.

In return for the annulment...

...Charlotte D'Albret is yours if you desire it.

I do.

The duchy also is yours.

The Order of the Golden Rose, yours also.

But as to the matter of an army...

...we have need of one ourselves.

For an invasion of Milan, I would hazard.

Do you read our thoughts'?

Before one thinks of them, Your Highness.

This young man is clairvoyant.

The last French invasion ended in disaster for all concerned.

Maybe if the next was under Italian leadership...

Yours, I presume?

With the blessing of the pope of Rome, of course.

And he would give it?

He would sever his ties with Naples and with Spain?

I would make sure, Your Highness, that he did.

My God.

What you propose could shake the foundations...

...of the Italian city-states.

Perhaps. But it would give you Milan.

And it would give you an army.

I would have your advice, Archbishop D'Amboise.

Well, you can call him Cardinal D'Amb0ise.

Cardinal D'Amb0ise.

I think I know your advice.

You. You came like a Greek, bearing gifts.

May that shrew you are to marry suffocate you with her bile.

And may she bear you a dwarf, a succubus.

And may you rot in that circle of hell reserved for the Borgia family.

There is no hell. No heaven either.

This world is what we make of it.

Forgive rne if my purpose here was to remind you of that fact.

Bitch.

So this is the beast they would betroth me to.

Don't be too hasty.

The negotiations are at a delicate stage.

For the pleasure of witnessing that scene alone...

...my answer would be...

---yes.

Can you promise me more of them?

Mushrooms.

You frightened me.

I've been charged with your safety, my lady.

It was your empty room that frightened me.

You wish to do some cooking?

Call it husbandry.

Galerina.

You will poison a whole dinner table with this.

- Do you wish us all to die? -Not all of us, no.

Then be more specific.

Bide your time.

It will come. Trust me.

Please.

I must eat, Your Holiness.

This child will be a Hector or nothing at all.

Made of good Roman meat and Spanish blood.

Maybe a Helen.

No.

A boy.

His Holiness deserves nothing else.

You must sleep.

You haven't slept in days.

These Sisters are from a house beyond the hills of Rome.

You will be safe there.

You will sleep there.

- Sisters. -Oh, my beloved.

It's for your own good.

- For the good of your eternal soul. -No.

You would not-- No.

No.

Negotiations are concluded.

Fifty thousand ducats from your father and the estates in the Auvergne.

Is it to your satisfaction?

You are to my satisfaction, madame.

As you are to mine.

And all this is in return for...?

- Only me, I'm afraid. -I am being robbed.

- But happily robbed. -Very happily.

There is the issue of your maidenhead.

My maidenhead?

Are you a virgin, madame?

I was, My Lord...

...until I met you.

escape!

For the wolf shall lie down with the lamb.

And a little child shall lead them.

Bianca.

Bianca.

You will find the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes.

Oh, please.

You will find the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes.

Lying in... Lying in a manger.

What have you done?

Bianca.

Pray with me. Pray with me.

Leave us.

Say nothing.

- Not a word. -Yes, Cardinal. Come, Sister.

Let me handle this.

What have you done?

Love suffers long and is kind.

Love envies not.

Love vaunts not itself, is not puffed up...

...does not behave rudely...

...does not seek its own...

...is not provoked...

...thinks no evil...

...does not rejoice in inequity but rejoices in truth...

...bears all things...

...hopes all things...

...endures all things.

Tell me about love, my husband.

Love suffers long and is kind.

Love envies not.

Is there one you have loved?

Yes.

Is this one close to you?

Yes.

Is it me, then?

Yes.

You'd lie to comfort me...

...because you leave tomorrow.

Yes.

And I love you for it.

For a papal brief of annulment...

...a statement from your wife will be required.

Let His Holiness write it down from her own adulterous lips.

Then I can return to Mantua...

...and leave this Roman swamp.

His Holiness has no knowledge of her whereabouts.

A suicide.

God forgive the man who drove her to it.

Beg forgiveness, Lord Gonzaga.

Beg forgiveness on your knees for the ice that resides in your heart.

You were a cardinal once.

I was a bishop too.

And why the change?

I lost my faith.

In God'?

I woke up one morning and I realised...

...he's not in his heaven.

The world will not change if I do nothing to change it.

After him!

Come on!

Don't let him away!

Wait.

What does the boar fear more than this arrow?

I know not.

The pool.

My Uncle Ferrante had it built, stocked with lampreys...

...flesh-eating eels, for the ones he hated the most.

What an original idea.

Nothing original about it.

He came across the idea in Seneca.

Yes. I have heard of him.

Or maybe it was Cicero.

Watch this part when the eel--

No.

Uncle?

- Your Highness? -This way.

Your Highness?

Over there.

Dear God.

Oh, my God.

Get him out of there.

I would avert your eyes, if possible.

- I see nothing but slime. -Let's get him out.

- Get some rope. -Dear Lord.

Should I weep, Micheletto?

For yourself, my lady, no.

For this king, perhaps.

Do you read books, my lady?

Have you heard of a man named Seneca?

A little.

Did he write about a pool of lampreys?

Indeed he did.

Vedius Pollio, friend of Augustus, stocked a pool by his villa in Naples.

Should I bring my child here, Micheletto?

To this theatre of cruelty.

Well, at least now, my lady...

...the choice is your own.

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