All language subtitles for Borgia_S02E03_1080p_BluRay_30nama_30NAMA

April 1494, Palm Sunday.

Jesus entered Jerusalem peacefully.

I feel extraordinary.

Convince Rodrigo that he needs me.

Lucrezia is moments away from delivering
her baby.

Julia will claim the infant as her own.

The people loved him.

Lucrezia will marry Alfonso di Calabria.

And in exchange, you agree to leave
Naples.

Yet, he did not die of old age.

I fear when we next meet, he will kill
me.

Cesare Borgia.

He is an expert at killing.

You and I are henceforth enemies.

We have all experienced great tragedy
these past ten days, as the deluge

claimed homes and shops, loved ones and
neighbors.

I'll accept you, Borgia, safe behind
high walls on this hill, while we sleep

down at the river's edge in hut, up to
our assholes in mud.

And a monster prowls the shores.

A monster?

A mule's head on the body of a whore.

One human arm, the other is an
elephant's trunk.

On its back, the beaded face of an old
man.

A tail like a neck ending with a snake's
head.

Scaly limbs.

Its left foot like a hook. The right, an
eagle's talon.

This creature is a fiction.

Born of anxiety and exhaustion.

But my uncle told me... Enough!

Did you or you?

Did anyone here actually see this thing
with his own eyes?

Again, a figment born of anxiety,
exhaustion, and too much wine.

Or a sign of God's wrath, as is a deluge
itself. Who says that?

Who says it?

The monk in Florence, Fras Savonarola.

Fras Savonarola believed that nothing
you do while you live...

will save your soul.

He believes in faith alone.

We believe in faith, of course, but also
hope and charity.

You're all welcome to remain here on
high ground until the rains relent and

the tides subside.

Tents will be erected for expectant and
nursing mothers.

Our own pantry will feed every hungry
belly.

And as for the monster, you have our
sacred word.

It will be conquered.

All we are asking,

Cesare, is rather than force your
thinking upon the peasants, try to

appease them. So you believe there is a
monster.

The hardest thing to kill is that which
does not exist. We did not create the

peasants' fear. But we can use their
fear to our advantage.

The papal guards should be visible out
on the shores of the Tiber, patrolling.

Inform Captain General Dory.

Holy Father, I have a report from
Venice.

General de Cordova has hurled the Turks
back to Constantinople. We are grateful

to him, and to you, for sharing your
intelligence.

Jackals. Conquering the monster may
restore the peasant's faith.

But what of those two?

We do not need their faith, nor even
their vote for much longer.

We have summoned to Rome several of your
Spanish cousins to bolster our strength

in the consistory. When do they arrive?

Tomorrow, if the winds across the
Mediterranean are favorable.

We will have a welcoming banquet.

Might I suggest that you refrain from
the word deluge, which brings to mind

Noah and encourages these theories of
God's rule. Describe this monster to me

again. A mule's head on the body of a
whore.

One arm like an elephant's trunk.

On its back, the bearded face of an old
man.

Tail like a neck ending with a snake's
head.

Scaly limbs.

Its left foot like an eagle's talon.

Where were you when I laid the
foundation of the earth?

Tell me, if you have understanding.

Have you entered the storehouses of the
snow?

Or have you seen the storehouses of the
hail that I have reserved for the time

of trouble?

For the day of battle and war?

Who has cleft a channel for the torrents
of rain and a way for the thunderbolt?

Can you lift your voice to the clouds
that a flood of waters may cover you?

Can you send forth lightnings that they
may go and say to you, Here we are!

God, have mercy.

This was the Lord Almighty in dialogue
with Job.

An innocent man who fears God and turns
away from evil.

Job did not confuse the whims of his own
will with the absolute will of the Lord.

Yet Job was not spared divine rebuke.

So what of a pope in Rome who clings to
power and soils a

once holy city with vile corruption and
vainglorious greed?

This Borgia bull, confusing his will
with God's. Worse, trampling the will of

God.

Make no mistake, Borgia wishes to pull
Florence

into the very same abyss. I will not let
that happen!

Do not be sad, my child.

Sad?

In the two months since I gave up my
child, the chasm in my heart has been

fueled by determination.

I will not be careful.

A real mother fights to keep her
children close.

I will get Giovanni back or die trying.

I must go milk myself.

Basta, you little beast!

He does nothing but sob, sob and sob.

He misses his mother.

Walk Giovanni through the stables. We
turn when he is numb.

Yes, ma'am.

I was once called La Bella.

The most beautiful woman in Rome.

Children have turned me into a hag.

And that is why Rodrigo does not summon
me to his bed.

He has not even seen you once these past
few months.

I have told Valessandro, when next there
is a banquet at the Apostolic Palace, we

must be invited.

And then you will dabble.

Body tight.

Face bright.

A ravishing gown.

I have slain the monster.

So you will claim.

Speak with caution, Cardinal Farnese.
There is enough powder in my aqua blast

for one more jackass.

Twice now you've threatened to kill me.

Are your threats as false as your
monster?

We will see, Freniede.

People of Rome!

I, Cesare Borgia, give you the head!

Of the violent, terrible monster!

Fear no more!

Fear no more!

Fear no more!

Fear no more!

Fear no more!

Fear no more!

Fear no more! Fear no more!

Fear no more! Fear no more! Fear no
more! Fear no more! Fear no more! Fear

no more!

Fear no more!

Make my heart happy, Lucrezia.

Let me escort you to the banquet.

Are you here again, Di Calabria?

I cannot stay away from your sweet
daughter.

Lucrezia has been ill.

She needs a few more days' rest.

I'm a patient and a prisoner.

But not a patient prisoner, I see.

If you dote on me, as you claim, come
back after the banquet.

Tell me all you have heard.

Instead of a flower, Bring word about my
future.

No chivalry.

Just go.

Tell Cesare to visit us.

Alfonso di Calabi is a reptile.

A snake has its purpose. To get little
Giovanni in my arms once more, I need to

embrace every creature.

Well, here is the hero himself, delayed
by more monsters, Eminence. Wish you

thought of this, Eminence.

So

much

for Savonarola's soggy indictment of
Rome.

His tirades continue unabated, Holiness.

Rain or shine.

Of greater concern is Savonarola's call
for a council to depose you. I have even

more reason for you to appoint a
vice-chancellor. We agree, and are ready

to do so.

Do you have a man in mind?

We do.

Cardinal Borgia.

You doubt our choice?

Just when he pacified the peasants with
the head of the Tiber monster?

A stunning display of integrity.

His timing borders on the divine.

The very week we celebrate Palm Sunday
when our Lord triumphantly entered

Jerusalem, the people sing Hosanna to
Cesare. Ah, but remember our Lord's

triumph did not last but a week.

If I may, the duties of the
Vice-Chancellor require a little more

than mere trickery.

A steady metal, a clear understanding of
canon law, an ability to supervise, a

gift of training new priests, and above
all,

A soft heart.

Cardinal Borgia is many things, but a
calming guide to souls is not one of

them.

Fine.

We will give Cardinal Borgia the chance
to prove himself.

He will go to Florence and represent us.

I know the dangers Savonarola presents
and will determine the monk's true aims.

realigning them with Holy Mother Church.
Holy Father, perhaps someone more versed

in sacred dogma should go. Excellent
point. You shall accompany me, Cardinal

Farnese.

We shall set aside our enmity for a
common cause.

Herr Burckhardt, the next order of
business.

Ah, yes.

We present Bishop Juan Borja Lanzo,
Bishop Francesco Borja,

Bishop Pedro Luis Borja Lanzo, Bishop
John Borja Damila,

and Bishop Alfonso Borja for election to
the College of the Cardinals.

Why not change the name to the College
of the Borjas?

Did you say something, Eminence?

Only that Spain must feel quite empty.

Herr Burckhardt, let us vote.

Is there a point?

If you want them elected, they are
elected.

Eminences, my cousins and I live to
serve God's great church, but cannot

do so unless we have your support, your
blessing.

I wish for there to be a vote.

I wish for validation from the men who
would be my peers.

Here are documents demonstrating the
good works my cousins and I have

performed in Spain.

All notarized by her most Catholic
Majesty, Queen Isabella, who is

renowned throughout Christendom for her
honesty and love of the Church.

I do not enjoy the private, Father. Why
did you not ask me first if I wanted to

be vice-chancellor?

Do you?

No.

But I dare not contradict you in that
nest of tarantulas.

Being vice-chancellor increases your
chances of becoming pope. I do not want

to be pope.

I want to be a king, emperor.

An emperor defeats his enemies,
sometimes by war, sometimes by

diplomacy. Conquer Savonarola and your
glory will spread to the court of

Naples. She whom I love is in France.

I will go to Lyon and win Carlotta's
heart.

First Florence, and then Lyon.

Sabra on a roll is as great a threat to
our papers as the armies of King

Charles.

If you refuse to do what we ask, when
you return from France, another man may

be Pope.

It is not by the display of power and
pomp, cavalcades of retainers and richly

housed offerings, or by gorgeous apparel
that the heretics win proselytes. It is

by zealous preaching, by apostolic
humility, by austerity.

Zeal must be met by zeal, humility by
humility.

Care to guess the author?

Saint Dominic.

Founder of the order to which Savonarola
belongs. This is Dominic's rebuke of the

papal legates who failed to counter the
Cathar heretics. Savonarola himself is a

heretic. He's a man of spiritual
extremes, yes, but he is among the truly

faithful. Our first act must be to work
with him, not in opposition.

Compromise with this lowly monk who
sided with the French, demanding that

Rome be drowned in blood.

Let us reason with him. Turn him into an
ally.

A man of such fire would be of great use
to the church.

And to us, Borgia.

So you want me to seduce him?

As a symbol of our papal love, you will
present Savonarola with a carton of red

hat. Despite his order's disdain for
gorgeous apparel.

No one says he has to wear the hat. And
if Savonarola refuses, if he proves to

be truly virtuous... Then his people
must rise up against him. We must not be

perceived as causing this to happen. The
Florentines must think that the downfall

of Savonarola is born out of their need,
their frustration.

Go. With Godspeed.

you still share that consists of his
reservations about my son.

I fear you're trying to extinguish a
fire with fire.

The truth, Francesca, is that I have
come to fear Cesare.

I only hope Savonarola will do the same.

I hear that you go to Florence.

Yes. I will come with you. No.

Julia, at least you are in Rome.

Alessandro.

Alessandro, do not take offense.

I love your villa.

But I long to live in the Apostolic
Palace once more. And you will. Just be

patient. The clock ticks.

Your sister grows no younger.

At holiness, Pope Alexander VI of that
name.

Holy Father, when will you come see our
daughter Laura and our son

Giovanni?

One day soon.

I am doomed.

Lucrezia?

Here is Cardinal Lantol.

Cardinal? Cousin?

Welcome and congratulations, but what
brings you so far from the banquet?

Besides the chance to meet my beautiful
cousin.

There's always something besides in the
Borgia family.

You are without a lady in waiting.

Angela? Jeronima?

This is my little sister, Angela.

Pleased to meet you, cousin.

Younger, not little.

Of course.

And our first cousin, Jeronima.

Though we do not know you, Lucrezia, we
share a history and a future.

They will serve as your ladies.

Well, this is a surprise.

Family's a constant surprise.

She says it is an emergency.

He wants

to be fed.

I thought I was dreaming.

You have filled my life with nightmares.

You know?

I want Giovanni to live with me, but the
Pope insists.

You two saw nothing and you know
nothing, understand?

What is the progress?

I am ragged without sleep.

Water, please.

I will get it. We will go.

You need anything, dear?

Just more of this.

Good night.

Each of us gets the sleep we deserve.

Julia, can you not convince my father to
let my son live with me?

Believe this.

If I could, I would.

Before we go any further, I must ask,
why did you bring me along?

Last time you and I rode into Florence,
there was nothing but ourselves and our

excitement.

Two young students from Pisa, ready for
a break from our studies.

Was that yesterday, or a century ago?

Yes, this is true. But a secret.

Yes. Then how did you... A lover has his
ways.

We... Are betrothed.

I will be a duchess again.

A princess.

Uncle Federico is to name me Prince of
Bichiglia.

Bichiglia?

Where's Bichiglia?

I'm so happy, Lucrezia.

Do not dance quite yet.

You do not want me.

The real question is, do you want me?

Have you not heard the rumors?

That I am no longer a virgin?

That I have a child out of wedlock?

Now, there's a word that means exactly
what it says.

After you're wed, you're locked.

I am sold, Alfonso.

And am I any better?

First, I am a bastard.

Second, I am no virgin either.

I have offspring scattered throughout
the kingdom of Naples.

Our sweet past becomes our bond.

After the nuptials, I am only interested
in what tricks you have learned in other

men's beds.

Alfonso, you need not marry me to become
a voyeur. You already are one.

Now, may I hug you?

I hear Savonarola runs the city like a
monastery.

I suppose that brothel we happened upon
that first day is no longer to listening

business? Or the tavern where you danced
in the table and sang.

Sweet and goodly fellowship, taste of
wine and rare old.

But to kiss a girl's right lip is the...

Florence, what a city it was.

What a shame it has become.

What in the name of Christ is that?

On fire of the vanities.

Burn sinful things before they burn you.

And the Florentines do this willingly?

Their free will is blocked by fear.

Fear of what?

The vulnerable has no armor.

Fear of damnation.

Good girl.

Good boy.

How did you do that?

After four children?

You were a terror.

I was not.

Midnight to daybreak for the first 14
months.

Both lungs.

Basso profundo.

I'm now forced into silence.

Maintaining this charade with Lucrezia's
baby.

Mama, what am I to do?

How can I complain to Rodrigo when he
will not even look in my direction?

You must find the right person to do the
complaining for you.

Who?

Alessandro? No.

He devised this plan, which has served
its purpose, getting you back to Rome.

You need a different champion.

Preferably a butcher.

Cardinal Lanzon?

Madonna Julia, you wish to see me?

Your presence is a much-needed break
from motherhood.

They say having two is three times as
many as having one.

I'm so exhausted, I see four.

Make no mistake, I love my child.

My children.

Of course.

Since I'm here, we can discuss
Giovanni's baptism.

Yes.

The Pope has asked me to perform the
sacrament.

Wonderful.

Officially, I must ascertain the
commitment of the parents to raise the

child in the Catholic faith.

I think the odds are pretty high.

Are they, in this case?

A vow is a vow, is it not?

If spoken by the real parents?

Oh, so you already know.

Look what just two ladies are waiting.

Your sister.

The Pope will be furious.

You were about to tell me yourself.

I cannot carry on this sham.

Be of good cheer, my lady. I will ease
your pain.

The holiness Pope Alexander VI of that
name calls to order the 278th meeting

of the Papal Commission on Reform of
Holy Mother Church.

278th?

When we last met, we were discussing the
extravagant lifestyles of our brother

cardinals.

I say a banquet should consist of one
boiled meat, one roasted meat,

And fruit. That is all.

Pastry. One must allow for pastry.

Pastry is an indulgence.

A decadence. Oh, piccolomini.

We can have pastry and we can have...
Most entertaining.

Thank you. The session has barely begun.

We grant you permission to continue
without our presence.

Pass whichever edict you deem necessary
to improve the health of our beloved

church. Huh?

A tart is both. No, no, no!

Enter.

They arrived unannounced.

Of course.

Roger Rolamo, I am... I know who you
are.

I'm aware of who comes and goes in my
city.

And the brother of the concubine.

She supplied Borgia with yet another
bastard, yes?

Il Papa has sent this one to test his
mettle.

Let's see how he fares on his own. Take
Farnese out.

So much for Florentine hospitality.

In fact, not much of the Florence I love
remains.

A strange sight for you, yes.

No vice, no vulgarity, no vanity, no
passion for life.

Is that what is meant by the Lord's
passion in Gethsemane, a good time?

Here's a hint for your palm Sunday
homily, should you give one. The word

passion derives from party, Latin for
suffering. I know Latin, Frater Alam,

but do you know true suffering?

St. Peter of Verona.

He evangelized Italy from Como to Rome,
bringing thousands into the arms of

Christ. The Manichean heretics whom he
denounced tried to quiet him, but

Peter's denunciations grew louder.

So they hired an assassin.

Carino, his soul black, met Peter on the
road and split the saint's head open

with an axe, turning his face into a
crimson mark.

Yet even with blood, bone, brain pouring
down his face, Peter found the faith to

rise to his knees.

Unable to speak, he dipped his fingers
into his own blood, writing on the

ground, Credo in Deum Patrem, offering
himself to the Lord,

a willing sacrifice.

A compelling legend.

Yet I cannot help but wonder what might
have been.

What more Peter could have accomplished
in the Lord's name if he had seen the

danger and changed his course.

The Pope wishes to raise you to the
height.

A prince of the church.

Our faith is not a trinket to be traded,
Roger.

This is a matter of respect.

Pope Alexander for you, you for Pope
Alexander. Why would I want his respect

when I possess the truth?

What is hate or love compared to
salvation?

Tell me, Cesare Borgia, who are you?

What is your truth?

When have you seen the face of God?

Oh.

A Borgia with a con...

Well, take heart.

There is still hope for you.

Carino, the assassin, begged forgiveness
for his part in St. Peter's martyrdom.

Time for mass.

Who told you that the baby is not mine?

Lucrezia? Julia?

The who does not matter, only that I
know and that I can help. How can you

help?

Listen to the voices of the people
outside the Vatican War.

The peasants call Giovanni Infante
Romano as if any man in Rome could be

the father.

The baby casts a long, dark shadow over
the border papacy. So what do we do?

Take Giovanni to a hillside and bury
him?

Yes.

Figuratively, send him away.

In a basket of bulrushes, perhaps.

Float them down the Tiber.

Cousin Adriano and Capugnano.

Who was also sent away.

How do we know she will not taint
Giovanni or worse in sheer vengeance?

To prove herself once again worthy of
your love, she will raise Giovanni as if

he were Moses.

Take the child.

Quickly and quietly.

Sweet cousin, this is no easy task,
telling your mother that her child must

be taken.

No, Lucrezia, the answer is no.

And who brought Isabella Matuzzi in
here?

Did you not encourage me to hand
Giovanni over to Giulia?

That was a temporary solution.

This is a permanent one.

If Giovanni is taken any further away
from Rome, you will never see him again.

Lucrezia can visit him any time she
wants. If I want your opinion, I will

ask.

Lucrezia, do not let this happen.

And how do I stop it?

If I, the Pope, just like that monster
of an aurora? The Pope is your father.

Oh, in that order.

So off the infant goes.

To that gorgon, Adriana, no less.

Who could turn Medusa herself into
stone?

Who are you to talk?

The mother of not one but four bastard
children. You sent Juan to live in Spain

and that turned him into a monster.

Why are you trying to hurt me? You did,
Rodriguez, bidding every step, spreading

your... Look at me.

Juan is dead.

Cesare is absent.

And you, my spitting image.

Because at your age, I did not stand up
for what was right.

Some days ago, you were resolved to get
Giovanni back.

Where is that resolve?

I see now.

Even if I were to defy the Pope, there's
no defying God.

And losing Giovanni is punishment for
my...

So yes, off he goes.

But I will accompany you to Adrianus.

I do not want to preach to you.

Let us simply speak with each other.

And you'll learn.

I see you then.

I can hear the question on your lips
before you speak.

You wonder, Fra Girolamo, how can you
debase a man who serves as the

mouthpiece of God?

Fair question.

I answer you thus.

My own eyes have gazed into the light of
the Holy Spirit. The light illuminates

truth. If the light deceives me and I
deceive you, then God deceives. Do you

believe God would deceive us?

No.

But you?

That's the Rome. You wonder, what did
the light illuminate? I answer, Rome.

A city of winding streets and dark
recesses with shadows cast not by

buildings but by people.

Yes, that's a Rome.

In Rome, there are more prostitutes than
Monte Cassino has friars.

This culture of sin extends all the way.

No, I do not point...

To heaven, but at Alexander, who brings
the entire church to his level of

debauchery. I tried to turn this into a
crossbow. One priest sleeps with his

concubine, another with a boy.

The next morning, both perform holy
mass.

But we will need more than a palm frond
to kill that lion. What do you make of

such a mass?

Niccolo Machiavelli.

But what's that Silvestro?

You ask, why does God speak to me and
not to the Pope?

Oh, he does, but Alexander will not
listen.

There is a different congregation in
Florence anxious to meet you.

We will send word as to when.

Where?

Just now, Alexander has offered me a
cardinal's red hat in exchange for my

submission.

You, stranger, would you accept such an
offer?

Would you take more power?

in exchange for your soul.

I stand among you, fellow Christians, to
make this solemn

vow.

No hat will I wear but that of a martyr

reddened with my own blood.

Cesare writes that Savonarola has
increased his venom towards you.

My patience ebbs with both the monk and
my son.

Coincidence with Holy Week is
unfortunate.

Savonarola will likely draw parallels
depicting you as Herod, seduced by

Salome. Cesare suggests an embargo on
Florentine goods shipped into the Papal

States in the hopes of stirring up the
merchant class.

You will write an epistle, Agapito,
banning all Florentine products.

Such a ban will anger the Roman rabble.
No wool, no silk. Denial strengthens

Roman character.

Bring Julia here.

What?

We wish to discover if she told my
nephew that the baby is not ours.

Holiness, in one breath you say denial
strengthens character, and in the next

you ask for Julia. Seeing her at the
banquet.

Liabella, only she.

Politically, or bring her for one night?

Is it done?

Yes.

The men are trustworthy?

If such men are ever trustworthy.

But look, it's like... I will. This is
the only way.

It is a risk.

You said that I should not surrender to
the Pope's demands.

Deceit will get my child back.

Cousin Juan must believe I am
complacent.

I'm certain he would rather that you
hold him.

I'm certain that he would not.

Lucrezia, Giovanni's yet to be baptized,
because I need his parents, his real

parents, to make the commitment to God.

Giovanni's father is dead.

Then you must speak for him as well.

Do not let this innocent child die
without salvation.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and
the Holy Spirit, Giovanni, you are now

no longer a foreigner, but a citizen of
God's kingdom.

You are a member of the Almighty's
household, built upon the foundation of

the apostles, with Christ Jesus himself
as the cornerstone.

I am whole again.

I hope we are not mice walking into a
trap.

Ah, Rome to the rescue.

Come in.

Cesare Borgia, Alessandro Farnese, meet
the Florentines who are truly faithful.

Piero Solorini, once the city's prior.

Francesco da Puglia, superior of the
Franciscan monks.

Niccolo, manners are unnecessary.

You will meet the rest in time.

Because of Savonarola's restriction, you
two have probably not tasted wine since

your arrival.

Let us at least remedy that.

This leech, Savonarola, speaks of Flon.
It's not just as if he was born here,

but as if the very city was born inside
of him. He comes from Ferrara.

He's been in residence for, what, 12
years? Compared to generation upon

generation of my family.

And mine.

Yet you supported him initially.

All of you.

Did you not?

The Pope has decreed Florentine
merchandise will no longer be exported

to the Papal State. That will ruin us.

Every nobleman and merchant, friar and
pauper, must share responsibility.

Savonarello remains in power by your
common support.

Eminence, those of us who are present
wished only to rid ourselves of the

Medici. At the time, that cause was no
less desperate than this. But hindsight

proves the wiser. We would gladly have a
simpleton like Piero the Unfortunate

back in power. Gentlemen, the solution
is now clear.

Savonarola will not be moved unless a
mountain falls upon him. The Pope must

excommunicate that mad monk. I second
that.

I do not.

Why?

Eminent, you first.

Savonarola claims that he would happily
die a martyr. He has practically been

begging for the chance. Strip him of his
pulpit and you'll catapult him to

greater glory. He will simply move his
sermons to the piazza. And build a

bigger bonfire.

But having sown fire, let him reap the
same.

We will give Savonarola the ultimate
test of his faith.

The ordeal by fire.

He will do much. Then his followers will
see that he has feet of clay, and droves

of Florentines will turn from him. But
what if Savonarola agrees to the ordeal?

Worse, what if he survives?

Please, divine intervention.

Do not be so cynical.

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego step
from the fiery furnace of Babylon.

Do you actually believe Savonarola would
not burn?

I am open to the possibility.

Juan, know that no matter what happens
next, I thank you for the love you have

shown me.

Greetings, cousin Adriana.

Juan Lanzay, a child no longer, and a
cardinal I see.

Blessed is he who comes in the name of
the Lord.

Lucrezia, the sins of the father are
visited upon the children.

Come in.

A relic.

A bone from the body of St. Apollonia.

Virgin and martyr.

More likely this came from the skeleton
of a dead squirrel.

I have arranged for a wet nurse.

A righteous woman. Her milk is pure.

Lucrezia will want to visit.

No. A clean separation is best.

Rejoice, my dear.

This child of sin will be raised a
pillar of holiness.

The curse of illegitimacy on the Borgia
family may not end with Giovanni, but it

will dissipate it.

Are you a man or a specter?

I am here.

Madonna Lucrezia.

You?

You are the mercenary whom my mother
hired.

When you steal my baby, you must not
harm him.

Of course.

Is the lady of the house to die?

No.

Not unless necessary.

I'm overjoyed to have my faith tested.

I accept your challenge.

But if I'm to stand trial, Borgia, then
so should you.

I have no reason. If my faith is proven
false, that does not prove your faith

true. So I challenge you, eminence, in
the name of Pope Alexander, to verify

your righteousness.

Or is the Borgia bull being castrated?

You think me a boy of privilege that I
do not know pain.

I have been tested by many more powerful
than you.

Yet here I stand.

I have risen from the flames before, and
I will rise in them again, a phoenix.

The phoenix is a myth.

And so may be the fires of hell.

Frother, please.

Florence could not bear the strain of
seeing you stand inside the pyre.

I have been challenged, brother.

Allow me to take your place.

Just as Cardinal Borgia stands in place
of Pope Alexander,

I yearn to prove myself to God

as you already have.

Canon law allows him to stand and serve
in a royal estate.

Borgia, will you still endure the ordeal
by fire?

The ordeal by fire?

Cesare should have sought our counsel
first.

The crisis in Florence must be resolved
by a deference to papal authority, not

by the whim of fate.

Counsel now, and we appear frightened
that Savonarola will survive and

triumph. Then we will go to Florence.

And by the time you get there, it'll be
too late.

Or they will burn you instead.

I want my son to live and the monk to
die.

Dear God, I hope that you would bless me
indeed and expand my territory.

And that your hand would be with me to
guide me and to keep me from evil.

Amen.

Who serves you best, O Lord?

Do I or Savonarola?

Send a sign.

Save my son.