All language subtitles for Borgia S112

Hey, hey.

The Laocoon,

a relic from the
magnificent days
of ancient Rome.

A cautionary tale,

the high priest Laocoon
tried to warn the Trojans
about the large wooden horse.

Fear the Greeks,

even bearing gifts.

The goddess Athena, as revenge,

sent a serpent,
which rose from the sea

to destroy Laocoon
and his sons.

The Trojans believed
that Laocoon's death
proved him wrong.

God may destroy a man,

but the man may still be right.

His Highness, Goffredo Borgia,

Prince of Squillace,

and Her Highness,
Princess Sancia d'Aragona.

We welcome you, our son,

and our daughter by marriage,

who God has blessed
with a child.

We long to hold those
precious jewels
close to our heart.

We anoint Oliviero Carafa
Dean of the Sacred College.

And renew
Rafaele Riario-Sansoni's
tenure

as Camerlengo
of the Holy Roman Church.

Holiness,

General de Cordova

and the Duke of Urbino.

As promised, we have captured
the traitor Virginio Orsini.

We deliver him here
to your divine presence

for sentencing.

Bravo, great captain,

bravo.

What took so long?

I beg you, wise Father,
to spare my brother
from the pangs of death.

What other choice have we,
but death?

- Exile.
- Exiles return,

usually with a foreign army
behind them.

Father,

may I choose
Virginio Orsini's
punishment?

How fitting.

What will it be?

I must ponder
the answer carefully.

In the interim,
place the criminal
in a dungeon at Terra Nuova.

So be it.

And tomorrow,
General de Cordova,

we shall bestow upon you
our highest honor

the Golden Rose.

Oh!

Oh!

Lucrezia?

Lucrezia, come and sit here.

Thank you for the picnic, Mama.

The air here by the river
is so fresh.

Fresher than the air
at the Vatican.

Please excuse us, soldier.

As you know, Pantisilea
has come to work at my villa.

That whore betrayed me.

In a worse way than you know.

Since the first day
she arrived from Spain,

Pantisilea has served
Giulia Farnese.

Every letter you have written,

every conversation
has been revealed.

Giulia pretends
to be your friend,

but she's your nemesis.

Untie me.

I am not stupid.

Oh, not as bright
as Cesare, but...

I ordered you to kill my
brother and yet he lives.

Either you are incompetent,

or treacherous.

And I know that you
are not incompetent.

This evening, my mother
holds a farewell dinner
for Cesare.

See that when he
leaves the villa,

he goes to his grave.

I promise.

He will die tonight.

I find that I think best
when I am fucking.

What?

Sister.

As prefect of Rome,

Prince of Tricarico,

I can say what I choose.

Brother, you have the helmet
but not the brain.

The sword,
but not the arm
to wield it.

Boys, no rough stuff.

Sancia,

do you know what I love
about our family?

We can say or do anything
to each other
without fear of recrimination.

More than my life,

I adore my mother.

And...

My brothers.

Be seated, both of you!

Lucrezia.

Lucrezia.

Pantisilea.

Oh.

Now that I have
left the convent,

would you prefer
to serve me again?

Yes, Lady.
Fine.

Then all we need is the
permission of Giulia Farnese.

She threatened me.

If I did not help her, she...

And you neglected
to tell me this because
I could not protect you.

I was new to the city.

Insecure,

uncertain who to trust.

You will return
to the Apostolic Palace
with me tonight.

Lucrezia.

I go in search
of further pleasure.

At our mother's tavern,

there is a new whore
who is delicious.

I leave her to you.

But be careful.

With all those bells
jingling on your jacket,

your enemies will know
that you are coming.

Nini, follow me.

I must do something.

You,
take the rest of the bravi.

Go back to your wife.

Hey!

Is Juan here?
Why?

Do you want to watch
your brother and me
make love?

I have the documents
deeding the duchies
of Benevento, Terracina

and Pontecorvo to Juan.

We could not secure him
the crown of Naples,

so acre by acre,

we will carve a kingdom
out of the Papal States.

Even if he's not worthy?

Cesare...
Cesare's fate is decided.

By you.

But perhaps the God you serve
has other plans.

To breathe is a simple act,
until it is made impossible.

No, Lord Jesus,
I do not want to die.

Then tell me,
who is the true Borgia man?
You. You are.

Cesare?

I need to speak with you.

I took an opiate
to deepen my sleep.

Tomorrow then.

So, tell me, couze...

What have you learned
living in the Borgia
household?

To take what I want,

regardless of the cost

and who gets hurt.

As the scriptures say,

"The Lord is a man of war."

Happily, great captain,

you have chosen to follow
in the boots of Christ.

Odd that both
Cesare and Juan Borgia
are missing the ceremony.

Why are you in my bed?

Do you not remember?

I am celibate.

You will blacken this night
from your memory,

as I have done.

This time

you can whip me.

That is the prefect's horse.

Someone has cut the stirrups.

Rodrigo,

Juan's horse has returned.

We must find the boy.

Tell Cesare, search,
search, search.

Soldiers will go
to every home, every shop,
every convent.

If no one answers, tell them
break down each door.

Interrogate every living soul.

The masked man, de Corella,
bring him to me at once.

He hasn't crept about all day.

I need to speak with him!

On a matter of life and death.

I ask again,

did anyone witness anything?

If my brother is found harmed,

and if the culprit has
any ties to you Jews,

this borgo will be
leveled to the ground.

And you will be
driven into the sea,

with no Moses
to part the waters.

Your race will be
extinguished forever.

Francesc,

I was praying for Juan
in the Basilica, alone,

when I heard
these terrible
moans of grief.

I searched every corner,
but found no one.

And the torches began to float,

circling me, as if dancing.

Then I realized, that the voice

which moaned so intensely,

was my own.

Come.

You found my brother?

This is Nini,

the man who left
with Juan last night.

His senses have been beaten.

He is alive,
but cannot hear or speak.

Have him taken
to the Apostolic Palace
to be cared for.

What next, General?

We are near the river's edge.

Let us search every boat,
every dock.

I have lived along this river

since I moved
to Rome from Dalmatia
28 years ago.

Fascinating,
but I need to know...
I collect wood

from the forest
and I sell it
in the market.

But at night I must
guard my livelihood
from the thieves.

So I sleep here...
Signore Schiavioni,

I need to know
if you saw any unusual
sights last evening.

Unusual?

No.
You did not see a fight?

No.
Or a body?

Oh, yes, I did see that.

At around two in the morning,
a rider on a white horse

appeared on the other shore.

He looked to and fro
to see if anyone
was watching...

But he did not see you?
No, I learned well
how to hide,

escaping from the Turks.

The rider, satisfied
that no one was around,

he signaled into the darkness.

Now, the moon
was barely a crescent,

but my eyes are sharp.

Four men carried a body
to just below San Girolamo's
where garbage is dumped.

They threw the body
into the river.

I laughed
because it
wouldn't sink.

But they heaved a large
stone on its chest
and it was gone.

Was the face of the man
on the white horse
hidden in any way?

Masked or veiled?

Oh, masked...

In truth, I cannot say,
sir, I...

Saw no features
on any of the men.

When I asked you if you had
seen anything unusual,

you said no.

I didn't lie.
I see 100 bodies tossed
into the Tiber every year.

No one ever comes searching.

Here.

Here he is.

His throat has been severed.

He has been stabbed
in seven, nine places.

His gloves are tucked
into his belt.

There are ducats
still in his purse.

There was no robbery.

This is revenge.

Take him to
the Castel Sant'Angelo.

I'll tell my father.

He was my right eye.

Mama,

Juan is dead.

You have located de Corella?

No, Eminence,
he has not been
at any of his usual haunts.

He is nowhere.
Fuck.

Go, go, go.

Do not come back without him.

Holiness?

No!

Rodrigo, open the door.

The law of God rules my heart!

Where is that girl, Pantisilea?

At times like this,
you need someone...

I do not need Pantisilea, Mama.

I do not need anyone.

Eternal rest,

grant unto
your faithful servant,

Juan.

And let perpetual light
shine upon him.

A just man shall be
in everlasting remembrance.

An evil report,

he shall not fear.

Almighty God,

Juan Borgia,

whom you have called
out of this world,

cause him to be joined

to the fellowship
of your saints.

Amen.

What does it say about a man
whose own mother
does not weep for him?

Juan was either
led into an ambush,
or he knew his attackers,

so his suspicions
were not aroused.

He and the bravi
must have been on foot,

as he had taken off
his riding gloves.

And both men were
hit on the head
directly from behind.

If he was on foot,

why was the
horse's stirrup cut?

A good question.

The facts are few
and contradictory.

We must begin
an investigation
to find the murderers.

And who will lead
this investigation?

I will.

Only His Holiness
or the vice chancellor

has the power to appoint
a papal examiner.

His Holiness is unwell.
Since Sforza is no longer
vice chancellor,

the choice falls to me,
as Camerlengo.

You realize that
you are a suspect
in the murder?

I also know that I am innocent,

with a brother's desire
for the truth.

Still, the best way
to avoid being
investigated

is to run the investigation.

So that no one questions
your findings,

you and I will conduct
the interviews together.

Day one,
the investigation in
the murder of Juan Borgia.

Ascanio Cardinal Sforza,

you swear to speak
only God's truth?

Yes, I do so swear.

- Be seated, Eminence.
- Thank you.

Do you understand
why you are here?

Because you think
I had Juan Borgia executed.

I only wish I had.
Then you admit you felt ill
will towards the prefect?

As did we all, Eminence.

But as recently
as five days ago,
you threatened Juan.

Not even remotely.

I have not been to the
Cancelleria Vecchia since

my father gave
the palace to you.

I have tried to maintain
its luster.

You are acquainted with
Count Antonio della Mirandola.

This is Lord Jaches,
my secretary.

You killed my daughter,
my beautiful Rosalina.

She was a suicide

and far from beautiful.

You drove her to the ledge.

You are wrong.

My understanding is that,

you refused to marry her

and you disowned her.

I gave Rosalina love.

- They, hate.
- Borgia bastard,

I will kill you!

I was trying to make peace,

but your brother is...

Was, a provocateur.

Is Antonio della Mirandola
responsible?

The good Count is all bluster.

And was in Ostia the night
on which Juan disappeared.

While your secretary...
Prefers the extremities
of men.

The engagement to marry
was one of convenience,
not passion.

You had reason to kill Juan,

in order to hurt His Holiness,

because he dismissed you
as vice chancellor.

I travel well
on the curving road
of politics.

I take nothing personally.

How about
your cousin, Giovanni?

Has he revenged himself
on Pope Alexander,

for the divorce
from Lucrezia Borgia?

You need spend only
a single hour with my cousin
to understand this,

Giovanni was born a bastard.

His watered-down blood holds
none of the Sforza boldness.

He is, as he
swore before God,
impotent.

Some poor bastards

never get beyond their past.

Miguel de Corella was last
seen the morning
after Juan's murder,

riding at a fierce gallop
on the Via Flaminia
out of Rome.

Then I am adrift.

Why?

What does de Corella know?

Where I was
the night Juan died.

Babbo?

I have brought food.

For two days,
you have not eaten.

Avenge,
oh, Lord, the shedding
of your servant's blood.

You once told me
that we could be friends.

But you have
not behaved as one.

Still, we share a common love

for a man in much distress.

And so, we must be
bound together.

Gianbattista Cardinal Orsini.

The other hand.

You swear to speak
only God's truth?

Eminence, you must
say so out loud.

Yes, I do so swear.

Know this straight off,

Juan Borgia asked me
for a bribe in exchange
for my brother's life.

Did you agree
to pay this bribe?

These ducats are not enough.

Your brother must
acknowledge my superiority.

Virginio, say nothing.

The prefect of Rome,

with his limitless
benevolence...
And limitless appetites.

With his forgiving heart...
And his despicable soul.

Brother,

His Grace has decided
to release you

if...
I apologize?

Yes.

There are certain
maxims in war.

Are there not, Prefect?

To be a good
warrior you must act
as your enemy acts,

even if he is a graceless,
insolent coward.

No, I will not do
what you would do, Borgia.

I will not beg for my life.

And so, Virginio,
you win another battle.

In triumph,

you will spend the rest
of your days in this cage,
bent in half.

You will die after many years,

having forgotten
how it feels to
fully extend your legs.

At least, unlike you,

I will walk into heaven.

Therefore, you had ample reason

to want Juan Borgia dead.

Yes,

but you know me, Rafaele.

I am a priest, not a soldier.

My soul does not possess
the art of killing.

Easy enough to order
the Orsini bravi to do so.

Juan's wrists were bound
behind his back,

his mouth gagged,

as Virginio's were
when he was brought
before His Holiness.

A coincidence?
My family has lived in Rome,

nearly 2,000 years.

We have served
kings, emperors, popes.

I am the last of my tribe.

When I die,
the name Orsini dies.

Yet we die nobly,

not stained
by the sin of revenge.

Your words are meaningless.

Then place me in a cage
beside my brother.

I am ready to stand before
Almighty God.

Are you?

I was not finished.

What more would you have asked?

I served alongside
your half-brother Pedro Luis,
in the wars against the Moors.

I kept vigil by his coffin.

He was one of
the finest men
I've ever known.

Are you aware that Pedro Luis
was murdered by Juan?

I have recently learned so,
yes, but why do you
tell me this?

To prove to you that
I am interested
solely in the truth.

Did the two of you
plot to execute
the prefect of Rome?

You Borgia have been
too long gone from Spain.

A true conquistador
does not stab
in the middle of the night.

We kill on battlefields.

You are not Spanish,
Guidobaldo.

I cannot prove that
I did not kill your brother.

Can you prove that you did not?

I say this,

I am known throughout
Italy as a man
whose word is unassailable.

I swear upon the lives of my
children, I'm free of guilt.

We are your allies.

Look to our mutual enemy,

France.

No, I will not sit
in judgment by you,
Cardinal Borgia,

just as you would not sit
before me, in the murder of
my son, my beloved, Jean.

Your refusal leads me to
believe that you are involved
in prefect of Rome's demise.

If hearsay is gospel,

I would believe that you
stabbed the prefect
out of jealousy.

Jealousy?

Over the Lady Lucrezia.

Rumors span
from the tip of Sicily
to the doors of Notre Dame,

that both you and your brother
have had incestuous relations
with your sister.

You dare speak such words?

I do not subscribe
to this gossip.

Neither does my king.

But what does it say
about your family

that others are
so easily convinced

the perversions are true?

And Jesus Christ,
his only begotten Son,

who was conceived
by the Holy Ghost,

born of the Virgin Mary,

suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified,
died and buried.

He descended into hell.

The third day,

he rose from the dead

and sits at the right hand
of God, the Father.

And from thence,

he shall come and judge

the quick and the dead.

The fact is this, Fabrizio,

Juan Borgia,

transformed you into a cuckold

and as a result,
you murdered
your wife, Nannia.

A moment of passion.

I pay the fine,
confessed my sins,

promising never to kill again.

Promises made in
the confessional are vapors

which dissipate quickly.

You Borgia think all families
are the same as yours.

But I truly regretted my crime

and I fear
for my immortal soul.

When everybody else
joined France
against your father,

why was I absent?

You Colonna wanted Juan
dead as a vendetta,

for the murder
of your nephew Marcantonio.

If we wanted anyone dead that
person would be you, Eminence,

because you had
Marcantonio dismembered.

But we did nothing.

He suffered justly.

We know the vile act
he committed upon
your person.

Some secrets should
never be revealed.

We still have no answers,
no evidence,
no viable suspects.

I have one.

You.
Me?

I barely knew your brother.

You yourself said,

better to be the investigator
than to be investigated.

You are cousin
to Giuliano della Rovere,

and he hates the Pope.

Yes, perhaps Giuliano
arranged for the murder.

But he's in France,
far beyond our reach.

As if you would condemn him,

were he here in Rome.

I love the Church

and like any lover,

will do what is necessary
to keep her safe.

I switch loyalties
not because I am facile,

but because
my greater loyalty
is to God.

If there is evidence that
my cousin Giuliano is guilty,

if a single, reputable
witness testifies,

then I will shout his name
from the bell tower
behind Saint Peter's.

Then who?

Who committed this crime?

Cain rose up against Abel,
his brother,

and slew him.

Romulus killed Remus, as well.

That is how Rome was born.

Perhaps, instead of accusing
my family, or the Orsini,
or the Colonna,

you should look to your own,

or at yourself.

My wife, she is a wanton bitch.

She was born illegitimate.

Raised in a corrupt court.

She was notorious
before your marriage.

I imagine that is why
King Ferrante was so eager
to marry her off to a Borgia.

Did you sleep with her, too?

Is the baby she carries yours?

No.

The creature belongs to Juan.

Did you have
our brother murdered?
No.

The truth.
Stop hurting me

and I will swear to whatever
you want me to say.

You are colorless, Goffredo,

and therefore innocent.

I am here on official business.

When I told you that Juan
had Pedro Luis assassinated,

you said, "Then he must die."

I am a suspect?

If you have done this,

confess

and I swear,
upon all that is holy,

I will never tell...
Upon all that is holy?

Well, well, well.
I need to know who.

For myself.

Though I believe Juan
earned his death,

I am no Medea.

I could not,

I could never kill
one of my children.

If you do not know that,

then you and I are strangers.

Oh,
Virgin Mother, when you stand
on the side of God,

turn away his wrath from us.

Enough of this.

One life ends,
the others march on.

Who killed my son?

God.

God is not so ruthless.

He killed his own son.

Why would he not kill yours?

Pope Alexander,

the sixth of that name.

Brothers,
we have asked you here

where we were first given
the shoes of the fisherman,

because our son is dead.

No deeper tragedy
could have befallen us,

as we loved Juan

more than any man
in the realm of God.

Grief beyond measure
has entered our soul.

Life has lost all interest.

God punishes us,

me, for my sins.

Juan has done nothing
to deserve so brutal a fate.

I would give seven papal
tiaras if I could bring
my boy, like Lazarus,

out of his tomb.

We do not know

by whom the murder
was committed.

Or the cause.

But we absolve
the families Sforza,

Colonna, and Orsini,
whom we love.

May God pardon
whoever is guilty.

We are resolved, without delay

to place the needs
of Holy Mother Church foremost
in our thoughts and actions.

No longer will we
consider ourselves,

for no earthly pleasure
can offer us solace.

We will institute the reforms
which we pledged
upon our ascension

to the throne of Saint Peter.

We swear thus,

upon the Holy Lance.

My love.

Depart.

I will make this suite even
more beautiful than before,

rivaling the Golden Palace
of Nero.

No,

you must leave.

Leave?

Leave this bedchamber,

leave the palace, leave Rome.

I am a priest,

I live alone.

Rodrigo...
Be gone from my sight.

And go where?

Rodrigo, please.

Perotto and I
long to be married.

As much as we hope
to please you, Lucrezia
that is not possible.

Tomorrow you will leave
for Spain to become a nun,
as you so devoutly wished.

And you will care for your
brother's orphaned children.

I will not.

I will marry Perotto.

Daughters are notoriously
disobedient,

but you are a soldier.

Yes, Holy Father, I will obey.

Perotto, no.

Pray for me, sweet Lucrezia.

I was almost happy.

Lust is not happiness, child.

Being faithful
to God's truth is.

Father, you must not
mourn Juan.

How can I not?

Because buried
underneath his death
lies a deeper tragedy.

Juan had Pedro Luis murdered.

To speak such lies
against the dead,
against one's own brother.

De Cordova
will verify the fact.

I tell you this
not to give you
greater grief,

but to alleviate your sadness.

Shall we postpone the meeting?

No.

We will bury the past
in the rich soil of tomorrow.

You will escort Goffredo
and his wife
back to Squillace.

Then, after you
crown Federigo
king of Naples,

you will leave Italy.

You have not once
visited Valencia

since you were named
her archbishop.

We command you to go
to Spain and fulfill
your pastoral duties.

And what if, Father,

I said I no longer
wished to be archbishop?

Nor wear the red robe
of a cardinal?

We would, like a deaf man,
stare blankly

as your mouth moves.

Holiness, we have had
many letters of condolence.

This one
from my cousin Giuliano,
who writes from Avignon,

that Juan's death
grieves him as much as
if it were his own son.

Ask Giuliano to come home
to rejoin the consistory.

All is forgiven.

You dismiss your own blood,

yet surround yourself
with enemies?

Though they have been
our enemies,

they have always spoken
with honesty,

unlike our sons.

Be gone, Cardinal Borgia,

with Godspeed.

I do not want to leave Rome
and live in the countryside
with our mother.

Silvia will be there
to distract you
from Mother's meddling.

Even so.

Your stay
at Lake Bolsena
will be temporary,

I promise you.

How will you shift
Rodrigo's mood?

The time has come for me
to make new allies.

You have been
my guardian angel.

I must sprout wings of my own.

Perhaps Alessandro
killed Juan.
Or Gacet.

No, no, none of them
own a white horse.

There are many
white horses in Rome.

The Colonna have
at least five.
The Germans, then.

They hated Juan.

What is this?

Your brother's legacy to you.

Lucrezia.

Lucrezia.

Come.

I am sorry, once again,

to disturb your slumber.

But I needed to talk
to someone,

to you.

What troubles my sweet brother?

Sweet?

No.

On the night of Juan's death,

I was drunk.

My memory is blind,

I do not know what sins
I may have committed.

Did I kill Juan?

You did not kill him.

How can you be so certain?

Everyone in Rome suspects
that I committed the crime.

Everyone. Save you.

Why do you not accuse me?

Oh, Cesare.

If you know something,
Lucrezia, please, please,

release my heart from torment.

I saw Juan that night,

after you almost
slit his throat.

He was very much alive.

Not cocky or confident.

Not even drunk.

Possessed.

I have once more
stared death in the face.

So close this time
that she could kiss my lips.

Lucrezia,

my soul is weighed down
by a millstone of sins.

When I die,

I will live forever
in the fires of hell.

What have you done, Brother?

When I was 12,

Father sent me to live
in Spain with Pedro Luis.

Our mother allowed
this to happen.

I was angry.

I hated Spain.

I hated Pedro Luis.

His strength,

the love others
showered upon him.

I knew that I would never
advance in the world
while he lived.

And so he died,

Pedro Luis.

And Maria Enriques
did not perish
in childbirth.

While the ship was docked
in Marseille,

my man reached the captain,

who strangled her
for five ducats.

Do not fear the devil, Juan,
for you are he.
No.

No, I try to be a better man
but I get lost
in the maze of my life.

I want to love,

truly love, but,

Lucrezia,

you are the only one...

I will tell Pope Alexander.

You need not to.

At dawn, I will prostrate
myself before him.

I will confess my crimes.

Beg for forgiveness,

pray for salvation.

I did not want Juan
to go to heaven.

You?

You stabbed him nine times.

He would not die.

So you cut his throat.

Perotto is a soldier
skilled in the ways of death.

Perotto even sliced
a stirrup of Juan's horse
to confuse people.

You are shocked
that I am capable
of murder?

I tried to give
myself to God,
but he refused.

And am I not following
the example of my father
and brothers?

Am I not a Borgia?

Do not hate me.

I have a great
many feelings
towards you.

Hate is not one of them.

You have acted bravely.

More bravely than I.

In the Garden of Eden,
Eve showed more courage
than Adam.

When the serpent offered
the forbidden fruit,

she knew that there
was something better
than paradise.

The whole world whispers
that you and I are lovers.

Should we prove them right?

Make their lies true?

Cesare.

Cesare.

Cesare.

Deception, even from you?

Cesare, no.

A commission of reformation

composed of Cardinals da Costa,

Carafa, Pallavicini...

San Giorgio and myself.

Holiness, save me.

He who touches our gown
has holy sanctuary.

Drop your sword.

I obey.

But he is a piece of lice.
Ask him what he has done.

Holiness, I have done nothing.

You lie...
No!

To the Holy Father.
No!

A son exists to glorify
the life of his father,

as meaningless and worthless
as that life might be.

But if the boy
is to become a man,

he must glorify himself.

And make a name even greater
than his father's.

A name

that will shout
throughout history.

I am Cesare Borgia.

There are all sorts of rumors.

Cesare murdered Juan,
Goffredo did.

I heard Pedro Caldes
has cut Juan's throat
out of vengeance,

after seeing
Lucrezia and Juan
in bed together.

Or did Lucrezia do the deed?

Did she cut
her brother's throat?

And did Pedro, with
some of his fellow soldiers,
silent and loyal,

carry the body
across the river?

We shall never know
the whole truth.

And perhaps that is best.

And what of Pantisilea,
who is missing?

Oh, I heard that she has gone
across the great sea
to Tierra del Fuego.

She has been whipped to death.

The ancients had many gods,

all cruel.

How wise of us to consolidate
them into one supreme being.

And how foolish we are
to love God,

to love so deeply,

something as brief
and fragile as life.

This should be as it was,

not as we wish it to be.

Bury the statue
where it will
never be found.