All language subtitles for Borgia s03e13 1506.eng

Fifteen oh-six.

The Borgia are finally punished
for their crimes.

Alfonso!

Rodrigo lies dead...

Qui sibi nomen imposuit
Julius the Second.

...while Cesare has been captured.

You are now the property
of King Ferdinand of Spain.

- Only Lucrezia remains in Italy.
- I ask you to serve as la duchessa.

Though being surrounded
by the d'Este family

may be punishment as well.

He is the bastard son of a scullery wench.
Do not walk with him again.

One day, you will realize
that to be my mistress

is better than being the wife
of any other man.

You would sooner kill our son
than denounce Cesare, your words, yes?

You got your wish. Our baby has died.

Hiya!

Welcome to La Mancha, Senhor Borgia.

"Senhor"?
I am Prince Cesare of The Romagna.

I am Gabriel de Guzman, your keeper.
Here is Alonso Pimental, a priest.

I am your chaplain and confessor.

I fear that I will have little need
of your services.

Salvation and I parted company
many years ago.

Well, I also play chess.

The old rules or Mad Queen's chess?

Mad Queen, of course.
They are Spanish rules.

- Bueno, we must play.
- Enough.

You will have time aplenty
to chatter like women.

Juanito Grascia, your groom.

- Well, this man considers me royalty.
- Highness, I am barely a man.

Then I will transform you into one.

I assume I will have free roam
of the castillo?

You assume too much. For now,
you are restricted to your suite.

You will sleep, eat, read, write,

pace, piss and shit there.

You left out fuck.
Are there ladies in La Mancha?

I will escort you to your quarters.

Juanito, stay.

I see that you intend to enforce
my restriction with armed force.

- I am told that you are wily.
- I am allowed visitors, yes?

- That depends on who they are.
- How long am I to live boxed in?

Until His Most Catholic Majesty
Ferdinand d'Aragon decides otherwise.

I wish to write to the king
and petition for my release.

A desire for freedom amuses you?

What amuses me is your absolute
lack of understanding

for the predicament that you are in.

- And what is my predicament?
- Tell him.

You have been indicted for the murders
of Juan Borgia, duke of Gandia,

Alfonso di Calabria, prince in the House
of Aragon and Pedro Galdes, a soldier.

You are also charged with crimes
against the one true Church,

with waging war against
Spain's kinsmen in Naples,

including the massacre
of the people in Capua.

Your next visitor will be
Ximenez Cardinal Cisneros,

primate of the realm and grand inquisitor.

I will face the Inquisition?

The verdict of guilty brings death.

Lucrezia, I came as soon
as I received your summons.

I am so happy that you have forgiven me.

I am a desperate woman
and do not know to whom else to turn.

- Do you cry for your dead son?
- Yes. And for Cesare.

I can see why you are distressed.
These scribblings make no sense.

They do. Cesare and I communicate
by encrypted messages.

And he says what?

Having escaped a lifetime
of imprisonment in Rome,

he faces worse in La Mancha.

- Have you shown this to your husband?
- Yes, and he grew angry.

Not at my brother's dire situation,
but at Cesare's freedom to write me.

Cesare is allowed to send letters?
He is a prisoner, is he not?

- He is, but also a son of a pope.
- A dead pope.

- And an exiled prince with Spanish roots.
- I win!

Ferdinand will use his famous captive
to taunt Pope Julius

and gain whatever papal favors
the king fancies.

You are wrong. The Borgia are
no longer of political importance.

Ferdinand will execute Cesare.

And we d'Este are too aligned
in the public mind

with Il Valentino's disgrace,
because of Lucrezia.

Time to put aside this marriage
and find a better match.

I cannot divorce Lucrezia
unless she is unfaithful.

That can be easily arranged.

- Alfonso wants to divorce me?
- Yes, a divorce.

- Who told you of this?
- The who is unimportant.

- You'd be denied a dowry and sent away.
- To where? I have no home but Ferrara.

You could come to live at my palazzo
on Via degli Angeli.

And if you should die,
I will be cast out again,

my children wandering the streets,
starving.

Society is not kind to women abandoned.

Then act quickly before Alfonso decides
to cleave the marriage.

Dios Mio. In order for the separation
to be legal and permanent,

- I will be accused of infidelity.
- Yes.

And since I am the half brother
whom Alfonso hates,

I will be presented as your lover.

To save your marriage, you must devise

a more compelling argument
than Isabella's.

Yes. I will do the one thing
for my husband that his sister cannot.

An act which will bind me to him.
The birth of a legitimate male heir.

Sex becomes for me not a way
to pleasure, but to survival.

Lucrezia...

Jimenez Cardinal Sisneros, archbishop
of Toledo, grand inquisitor of Spain.

- Eminence.
- Cesare Borgia,

in the name of Holy Mother Church,
I charge you...

I am innocent of the crimes
for which I stand accused.

His Highness
King Ferdinand the First of Aragon.

Most Catholic Majesty.

- De Guzman, you may leave.
- You received my letter? Then you...

Queen Isabella hated your father.
She hated you.

- She is also dead.
- With a dying curse,

she condemned the pagan and unholy ways
of the family Borgia.

Not all our actions have been sinful.

Or how else could Pope Alexander
have appointed you a cardinal?

- We will proceed with the inquisition.
- I question the Church's jurisdiction.

I am royalty
and may only be judged by royalty.

Your wife is the sister of my enemy,
Navarre's King Jean.

I have never met the man.
But I hear your bride is a bounty.

She is nine months pregnant as we speak.
Let's hope that this birth will release me

from the obligations to my daughters
and their salacious husbands.

There are many methods for dealing
with salacious husbands.

You see, Majesty? He convicts himself.

I swear, upon the soul of my dead father,
I am free of guilt.

You swear on your father's soul?

Where, in Dante's vast Inferno,
is Rodrigo's soul, do you think?

A dedicated parent, a generous ruler,
a comforting priest.

If Hell exists, he is not there.

And his son? Where will you dwell
for eternity? Elysium?

When you are alive, you can either be
fully alive or half alive.

When you are dead, you are completely
and unalterably dead. I will be nowhere.

- Men who love God, fear the afterlife.
- Then they love the wrong god.

Yet any god is better than no god

if a man is forced to live
in a place like this.

La Mancha, a desolate land.
And by that I mean acres of despair.

What better location
could I have picked for your retirement?

- Or execution.
- I am not in despair.

Wait. After a month, or three,
sealed away in this warren,

with that to ponder daily, despair will
creep over you like the French disease.

Never. The hope for freedom
will keep my spirit aflame.

You are clearly a man with a virile heart,
so heed a younger man's plea:

grant me a reprieve.

You betrayed Spain by fighting for France.

That was then.
You yourself have made peace with Paris.

All previous alliances
and annoyances are void.

- A reprieve.
- And a ship. To sail back.

Pope Julius would excommunicate you.

That wretched peninsula
for which you yearn

is harder to subdue
than the savages of Hispaniola.

Oh? But you have the great
Captain Gonzalo de Cordova

quartered in Sicily,
poised to stymie your Italian foes.

Yes. Yes, I do. Of course.

Yes.

His victories are countless and stunning,

trumpeted loudly inside every castle
of Europe, and the tents of Islam.

De Cordova's glorious courage,
his uncanny mind,

devising seemingly incoherent strategies,
which prove brilliant,

surprising to his enemies, until
even the invincible kneel before him.

- Kneel, before him?
- Majesty, we ride far afield from...

Yes, yes, yes.

De Cordova forces
the vanquished to kneel?

On both knees.
French generals mutter that

without de Cordova, you would've lost
the battle at Cerignola and Garigliano.

Frenchmen always need someone else
to blame for their insufficiencies.

Not only the French praise de Cordova.

Your infantry, your cavalry,
your sailors during my voyage over.

They love whoever
puts hot food in their bellies.

I myself heard the great captain utter
similar words,

claiming responsibility for your triumphs,
going back to Granada.

De Cordova nurtures
the loyalty of his troops,

a loyalty which transcends duty to king.

The men never question a single order
he gives. They venerate him.

- As if he is the center of the universe.
- Majesty, we must...

- Yes, Sisneros. Leave us.
- Majesty?

For a moment or two,
do not disturb us until I summon you.

In truth I never enjoyed
General de Cordova.

He was a favorite of Isabella,

always praising her virtue and her smell.

I would recall him from Naples
with the swiftness of lightning, but...

You must have someone extraordinary
to replace him.

What you need is a commander who knows
Naples, its people, its court and terrain.

A luminary with clarity of thought,
military perspicacity, a lack of fear.

You mean you.

Majesty, you face the Gordian Knot.
Like would-be hero after would-be hero,

you could try to unravel the rope,
pulling this way, yanking that.

Or you can be like Alexander the Great,

slicing the knot
with one powerful swing of a sword.

Aragonese sovereignty over Naples
must be secured.

By de Cordova. Or me.

Oh, you are clever.

Dangerous, talented, wise.
I should dispatch you to Naples.

The pope, Cisneros,
and dead Isabella be damned.

I will cut a swath up the Italian
peninsula, across Southern France,

over The Pyrenees,
creating one single nation.

No. To do so you would be ruthless,
barbaric.

You once slaughtered an entire town
of innocent souls.

Capua was far from innocent, sire.

They were hardly human,
like the Moors you exterminated.

Still, your heart is stygian,
ebon black.

Oh, I would live in abject fear
that you would betray me.

To whom would I betray you? Della
Rovere, Louis d'Orléans, de Cordova?

- Was I not betrayed by them?
- To name you commander

- would be foolish.
- Bold.

Bold enough to terrify the soldiers
under de Cordova's sway.

Is this not the real reason you came?

Why you sallied across the dry,
desperate plains of La Mancha?

To assess my ability to serve you?

Yes. Yes, I did. Of course.

Then let me be your halcón.

Did I say we were not to be interrupted?

Urgent news from Barcelona.

I will need immediate transport
to the harbor at Alicante.

Transport? I do not...
What is he saying?

Praise Jesus. My Germaine has given
birth to a boy. I now have a male heir,

instead of all those girls with whom
my dear Isabella has shackled me.

- Do you have children, Cesare?
- A son, three daughters.

- Do your daughters aggrieve you?
- They are still too young.

Cisneros convinced me that
by marrying mine off to distant princes,

my little hens would cease to be
a nuisance. He was wrong.

And by that, you mean,
because of your daughter, Juana,

who arrogates
for her mother's throne of Castile.

- You have studied the politics of Spain.
- Solitude gives me ample hours.

- Then you know the husband of Juana...
- Philip von Hapsburg.

- Philip the Handsome, the Fair.
- Philip the Unfair.

He wishes to add my territories
to the Holy Roman Empire.

I did not intend that Juana's marriage
would be the end of my dynasty.

But now I have a son,
an Aragonese heir,

not some vile stain of Germany. My
boy will wear my crown atop his head.

- My family's legacy is secure.
- You and I are one and the same.

I do not want the Borgia name
to disappear. As for the Hapsburgs...

Someday Philip will succeed Maximilian
as Holy Roman Emperor.

And will dethrone your son
when you are gone.

Yes.

Yes, but not if I remove Philip first.

Yes.

By advocating assassination, Majesty...

You will do the deed
before you are released.

I will let it be known
that under no circumstances

is Philip permitted to visit you.

He will come. Make certain
that only his soul departs.

Instead of judging the Borgia,
you have become one.

How many veins, Ximenez, have you opened
during the Inquisition?

I have done so by order of God.

Show me God's signature
on the death warrant.

I will need a knife or poison
or the string of a harp.

I leave the details to you,
Prince of the Romagna.

When can I expect my reprieve?
My commission?

When Philip is dead.

Are you certain
that you should be walking?

I do not want to lose another baby.

Nor do I, but last time
I did not remain active enough.

Our son was weak
because of my hibernation.

All of Ferrara is praying for a boy,
except perhaps the bastard Giulio.

You two no longer need to compete
for your father's heart,

which lies cold and uncaring in his tomb.

I am more concerned about your heart.

As I have said,
I love no man more than you.

Not even your brother?

Your jealousies exhausts me more
than the pregnancy.

And if I seem obsessed with Cesare,

it is because I have not heard
from him in months.

He is alive. If he were dead,

the news would ripple like a tidal wave
across the Mediterranean.

I am sorry, my love. I did not mean
to worry you. Or be jealous.

If you truly want to ease my mind
and prove your trust in me,

make a lasting peace with Giulio.
Invite him for dinner and games.

Dinner and games? A quiet evening
with the entire d'Este family.

- That would please you?
- Enormously.

I will send an invitation. If only to show
God that we deserve a successful birth.

And I will write to Ferdinand,
begging the king to show Cesare mercy.

I doubt mercy will carry the day.
For Cesare, a weapon would be more useful.

This was smuggled in,
from your sister Lucrezia.

My sister is a glory.

Take this to a blacksmith.
Have the metal reforged.

- But the work must be done in secret.
- I know just the man.

- Where is he running off to?
- To launder my silks.

He says that his madre has
a soft touch with undergarments.

- Any word from King Ferdinand?
- No. You have a visitor.

- From the king?
- A different king. Philip von Hapsburg.

Philip is here.

His Highness Philip the First,
king consort of Castile.

My dear Philip.

- I am Philip von Hapsburg.
- Of course.

- Anton van Lalaing, my chamberlain.
- An honor to meet Cesare Borgia.

Welcome to my lair. As you can see,
I only have two chairs,

but you both
may take advantage of them.

My servant is out on an errand,
so I will be both host and lackey.

I have some wine.

La Mancha may be brutal,
but the region produces a fine vintage.

Mild and dry, a wine better drunk
when young.

Which is also true of a man.

No wine, bedankt.

Perhaps later, then.

- Is it too dark in here?
- Here is a gift.

- Your kindness warms me.
- This room does need some brightening.

- Exquisite.
- And the likeness?

Striking.

I shall cherish this
until my last day in Spain.

- Where I mean to live out my life.
- The very topic I came to discuss.

A man of your worth
cannot remain in this ghastly hovel.

I agree. As does King Ferdinand.
I await word...

My father-in-law is a deceitful prick.
There, I have said it.

So much for diplomacy.

Cesare, His Most Catholic Majesty has
lied to you.

There will be no reprieve. No commission.

He will never let you out
of Castillo de Chinchilla.

These four walls will be your tomb.

I, however, will set you free.

In my experience, with every offer comes
a demand, masquerading as a request.

Besides being king of Castile,

I am count of Holland, Zeeland,
Flanders, Burgundy, Luxembourg,

margrave of Namur. I will succeed
my father as Holy Roman Emperor.

I will unite the German Federation,
the Netherlands, Spain, Sicily, Naples,

in addition to Hispaniola and the other
as yet uncharted lands across the sea.

I will create a monolithic empire,
dwarfing France,

intimidating England
and challenging the Muslim tribes.

I invite you to be a part
of my magnificence.

- Highness, I am without words.
- Good, I prefer silent men around me.

Then, do you accept my offer?

I still have not heard
what I must do in return.

Florentine leather.

A gift from my wife,
who pleases me in all she does.

Wives, wives.
What have you heard about my wife?

That she is lovely. The Infanta Juana has
a fair complexion...

And a loose brain. Her own subjects
call her Juana la Loca.

This is also whispered about.
But my family has been subjected...

These stories about Juana are not fables.
These are facts. Explain.

The queen goes from peaks of happiness
down into a trench of sadness,

anxiety, emptiness of spirit.
She lacks energy, concentration,

has no memory for details. She
cannot make the most trivial decision.

She wallows in a morass of guilt,
worthlessness, hopelessness...

Helplessness.
She demands every minute of my day.

When I am otherwise occupied,
she accuses me of infidelity.

She either sleeps not at all
or to excess.

She shows no interest
in the things she once enjoyed.

Sexual intercourse. Many women
will testify that I am a marvel in bed.

She either overeats or starves herself.

She professes pains which find
no cure, despite the best doctors.

In short, though we at first
shared a great passion,

she has withered
into an unbearable creature.

- So the queen is unfit to rule.
- Except in a ceremonial way.

Yes. One must keep the facade in place,
even as the building crumbles.

I begin to understand. She inherited
the throne of Castile from her mother.

- Who named as regent Ferdinand.
- Not you.

Your desire is to wrestle
the scepter from his grasp.

To dominate Castile as true king,
not consort.

And I am to lead your army
against the House of Aragon.

Precisely. Do you see
how precise he is?

Juana will also inherit Aragon
when Ferdinand dies.

I want you to expedite the succession.

What of Ferdinand's newborn son?

He now has rights to the crown of Aragon.
Once he comes of age...

He will never come of age.
The newborn son is newly dead.

The old man's hope for a male heir
weakens as each season passes.

I already have two strong sons,
and Juana shows signs of another.

In exchange for my triumph
over the Spaniards,

may I ask one small compensation?

Name your price.

The Romagna...
I wish to be restored as prince.

- Pope Julius is troublesome.
- Give me 10,000 Spanish mercenaries.

I will give you a pope worthy of placing
the imperial diadem on your head.

Yeah!

I am so glad. We should toast.

No, I will pour.

Clumsy me. Though a broken glass
in some cultures means good fortune.

True, very true. Cesare Borgia.

Tell no one of this agreement.
I will get you out of here.

But in order to avoid accusations
of complicity on Philip's part,

by all accounts, you will have divined
a sensational escape.

Poisoned. I look forward
to working with you.

King of the Romagna.

Feeling your belly, I know that
he will be the greatest d'Este ever.

And we will name him after my father.

- Damn. You have bested me again.
- I am a better cheater than you.

Alfonso, Lucrezia, I want to thank you
for these past few months.

For welcoming me so completely.

The world is in such ongoing turmoil,
Ferrara must remain unified.

Uh-oh. See how Ippolito sniffs and sighs?
He is in love again.

I am, with that most fragrant flower,
Angela Lanzol.

Careful, Eminence. You smell a flower
already plucked by another's hand.

What do you mean?

- What have you done?
- I have done nothing.

You lie, you son of a kitchen whore.

Stop! Enough! As your duke,
I command you to stop!

Giulio, enough! Giulio, no!

Giulio!

Close the door, Pietro.

Did you sleep with Giulio d'Este?

Yes. Afterwards he said
that he only did so...

...to torture Ippolito.

I have lost my virginity to a villain.

- Has Giulio d'Este already left?
- Yes, some time ago, Gracious Lady.

Giulio?

I was just looking for you.

I was attacked by highwaymen.

Ferrante, search every valley,
forest and mountainside.

Find these vagabonds who have wounded
our brother and bring them to justice.

Giulio will receive
the finest of medical care.

White as Rome's snow.

Unless I can restore myself to glory,

I will be vilified in the days, years,
centuries to come.

History is dictated
by he who holds the pen.

I agree. Ponder this.

What if God had been defeated
in the Battle of Angels

- and Satan had become God.
- Who is to say that he did not?

Look at the world around you, friar.
Who is supreme?

The compassionate Christ,
or Lucifer at his most vengeful?

The Devil has convinced man
that God is the Devil.

Do you have it?

I am alive again.

To Louis d'Orléans,
Most Christian King, Père du Peuple.

Salutations from your most devoted
knight and cousin, Cesare Borgia,

prince of the Romagna, gonfalonier
of the Church, duke of Valentinois.

I write to you in remembrance
of my unquestioned service to your crown

and my devotion...

...passion for you as a friend.

Once again I ask, humbly,
for the 40,000 francs

which you promised as a dowry when
I married my much adored Charlotte.

You have never paid me
a single centime and now owe,

with the accumulated interest
by my calculations,

a total of...

...520,000 francs.

I know you to be a man of your word.
I am lying there.

You, come with me.
Get back to the kitchen, wench.

Halt. Am I to be executed?

Follow me.

Cesare Borgia, pay homage
to Juana d'Aragon,

queen of Castile.

Your Royal Highness.

Prince Cesare.

How fine to finally meet you.

My husband spoke of you
in the most glorious of terms.

Spoke? Do I no longer possess
King Philip's favor?

Philip is dead. De Guzman, you may
slither back to your slime hole and wait.

- I am deeply sorry for your loss.
- Yes.

Philip was an exceptional man.

So of the world, so extremely wise,

so extraordinarily handsome.
My supreme love.

One is fortunate to find a soul
who matches one's own.

We were married by proxy,
800 leagues apart.

But yet, when Philip landed in Spain
and saw me for the first time,

do you know what he did?

He was so infatuated, he summoned
a priest to marry us again, face to face.

- A romantic to his core.
- And more.

He was adored in Burgundy,
in the Netherlands and in my Castile.

He would have made
a legendary emperor.

- And you a magnificent empress.
- Our son Charles

will inherit the imperial crown
when Maximilian dies.

Charles will also inherit Aragon when
my father dies, and Castile when I die.

Philips vision of a Hapsburg Europe
lives in our boy.

- An exciting prospect.
- Do you mock me?

No. No. Majesty...

Majesty, I too share such visions.

For a fused Italy.

You have known kings, dukes, popes.

What do you think of my father?

In our brief meeting he seemed...
a true son of the Aragon.

He is el hijo del diablo!

When my mother died
and I became queen,

he had coins minted with my face
on one side and his on the other.

Philip was irate. He had coins minted
with the two of us displayed.

El Verdadero Rey e la Reina de Castilla.

Those coins, our coins,
were more popular.

As was Philip. My Castilians
always hated Ferdinand,

considering him unworthy of Isabella
of the House of Trastámara.

Majesty, forgive me. I've been locked
inside this castle for ten hard months.

I have few visitors,
so I am doubly pleased

that you would deign to grace me
with your presence.

Still, as we speak one question
haunts my head. Why have you come?

Do I ramble?

No... no.

Majesty, I assure you,
I am grateful for your memories.

But I have never been a patient man.

Did my father hire you
to poison my husband?

- No.
- Prove that no to me.

How? One cannot prove
that an event did not happen.

- An event did happen. Philip is dead.
- I had no hand in that catastrophe.

Swear that you speak true.

I could place my palm upon the Bible,
but my oath would be a pasquinade.

Then swear on something else.

I would, if I believed in something,
other than myself.

A dishonest man
would have taken the Bible,

regardless of its meaning to him,
and sworn until Sunday.

I accept your word.
You are not guilty of Philip's murder.

Is that why you came?
To read my face?

Are you certain
that Ferdinand murdered Philip?

The doctors claim
my darling died of typhoid.

But doctors can be bribed, a crime of
which my father is more than capable.

He has committed a succession of
infamies beyond my spouse's murder.

The expulsion of the Jews
and Mudejar Moors.

The establishment of the Inquisition.

The confiscation of properties owned
by Holy Mother Church.

The violation of treaty after treaty.

He sold my sister Catharina
to that monster Henry Tudor

and has since abandoned her
to an unknown fate.

Worst sin of all,
Ferdinand was unfaithful to my mother.

He has bastard children,

one of whom he convinced Pope Julius
to appoint as archbishop of Saragossa.

For his transgressions,
Ferdinand has suffered.

He has no legitimate male heir.

But he still could.

Cesare Borgia...

...I want you to kill my father.

- Patricide and regicide in one swift act.
- Death gave me this crown.

The death of my mother, my brother,
his daughter, my sister, her son.

My destiny is to rule
until Charles is of age.

Ferdinand's death will secure
my position in Castile and Aragon.

- My son's future will be unassailable.
- What will be my reward?

Your freedom.

I would expect the full force of Spain
to aid me in regaining the Romagna.

You will have my support.
Conquer Rome, for all I care.

And Naples. Several old vendettas
must be settled.

I want the Neapolitan scepter placed
in my hand.

Fine. I have no interest in Italy.

Except that you, Borgia,

must pledge to ally yourself
with my son Charles

once he has the scepter of
the Holy Roman Empire in his hand.

I pledge so now.

- Then we are agreed.
- Yes.

An everlasting agreement.

Pour us wine.

- We three must celebrate.
- Three?

Yes. You, me and Philip.

Yes, his spirit surrounds us.

Not solely his spirit.

On our voyage
from Flanders to La Coruña...

...we sailed through the Engelse Kanaal.

The sky and the seat turned
into a dark tempest.

Our ship was wrecked
against the rocks of Dorset.

But still, Philip held me,

carrying me through the waves
and debris to the safety of shore.

Oh, my darling. I will never let you go.

How was your audience
with the queen?

I have been wondering of late
if I am going mad.

But having met her,
I see that I am fully sane.

Is this the fate to which I am delivered?
Aligning myself with a banshee?

Her grandmother struggled with the same
malady. Not madness, but sadness.

A sadness of the soul
which confuses the mind.

To do what I must do to gain my liberty
will be dangerous enough.

But relying on the wits
of an unstable spirit. Damn me.

- Is this fear I hear?
- Not fear, caution.

To act rashly is a fool's move.

Still, I must play chess
with the Mad Queen's rules.

She is at present my only option,
and I will make the best of it.

In nomine Patris, et Filii,
et Spiritus Sancti.

Our prayers are answered.
The doctors believe that Giulio's sight,

in time, will be
at least partially restored.

Thank you, God in Heaven.

In the interim Giulio
can come live at my court in Mantua.

- He will stay here, with us.
- Yes, I think that is best.

We have arrested one of the highwaymen
who thrashed Giulio.

He is a familiar in the household
of our brother, Ippolito.

That servant is no longer in my employ.

- He says otherwise.
- And you believe him?

More likely Giulio paid him to lie.

If you are guilty, tell me. For if I learn
that you are guilty and deceived me,

- I will show no compassion.
- I am much afflicted by this business.

This is more cruel to Giulio than death.

This is a shameful act. This is
an outrage to the name of d'Este.

So you are guilty.

Alfonso, this much be handled
in the bosom of secrecy.

No, no secrets. Secrets
corrupt the mind and kill the soul.

Ippolito d'Este,
with our family's fine lineage

and your high rank within the Church,

we would expect you to behave not
as a criminal, but as a model of purity.

Your Grace, I acted violently,
but for the love of a beautiful woman.

I plead to your generous spirit
for leniency.

Since you have expressed
God-fearing remorse, I hereby pardon...

- The Bible says "an eye for an eye."
- No, Alfonso!

Alfonso, Do not blind me
or the consequences will be severe.

An eye for an eye may hold in some cases,

but at present, we have an injured party
who has sinned as well.

Giulio, if a man who takes an eye
must lose an eye,

what of the man who uses his pene
to deprive another man of love?

What must he lose?

Still, husband,
since His Eminence is your brother,

his pardon may be perceived
as unjust favoritism.

- Then I am at a loss.
- Your Grace,

Ippolito, being a cardinal, should
be tried in an ecclesiastical court.

Banish him for a year to Rome.

Let the Vatican provide the verdict
and a punishment.

So be it.

Ippolito d'Este, you are hereby
banished from the Ducatas Ferrariae.

To banish me from Ferrara is
to strip me of life. I am a dead man.

With one exception.
When your exile is over,

you, like Lazarus, will rise
from your grave.

Alfonso, our father would not have wanted
our family divided.

Father is dead! I am God's anointed
duke and head of the d'Este House!

- I have spoken, sister, so you may not!
- Escort His eminence to Rome.

If I had blinded Ippolito,
you would have executed me!

Lucrezia's cousin caused this tragedy.
She must be banished as well.

Angela is not responsible
for Ippolito's frail pride.

True, but Isabella is right.
Angela must be sent away.

- Not until she's married.
- Do you have a beau in mind?

Alessandro Pio di Sassuolo.
They're very much in love.

- No, the Pio family...
- He is a fine choice.

Arrange the engagement. Quickly.

- Goodbye, Angela. I love you.
- Goodbye, cousin.

If we fail today,
we will end up down here,

and not even a decree from Queen Juana
will secure our release.

- Now tell me about this man.
- His name Juan de Canamas.

He arrived one day at the royal castle,
contending to be the king of Spain.

- Over there.
- Here is the money we agreed to.

Majesty, I am Cesare Borgia,
son of the pope.

I have galloped two horses into the
grave in hopes of an audience with you.

- Will you hear me?
- Continue.

I have scoured every castle, tower
and dungeon for your royal presence.

I come to rescue you. Do you still wish
to regain your place upon the throne?

Yes, loyal subject.

I would be honored to guide you
to your royal palace.

But you alone must commit the final act.
So my question, Highness, is

would you do violence against
the traitor Ferdinand of Aragon?

I will need a weapon. A dagger.

A short sword. It cuts deeper.

Cristoforo Colombo has died
in Valladolid, alone and penniless.

Perhaps death will put an end to his
ceaseless demands to share our profits.

- Ferdinand.
- Who is that?

- I have come for justice.
- I am sorry, sir.

You have missed today's hearings.
I will attend another next week.

Santa Maria! Treason!

- Kill the traitor.
- Stop. Keep him alive for questioning.

Take me to my chambers and bring
the doctor. The wound is not fatal.

The king will live!

On the rack, you will reveal who else
is involved in this conspiracy.

Loyal subject...

Cesare Borgia. Arrest him!

And so the dog returns to the kennel.

Be grateful to His Most Catholic
Majesty for not having you executed.

- At least, not yet.
- You wait, De Guzman.

One day soon,
I will rip your heart out.

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