All language subtitles for Madness.Of.Joan.2001.1080p.BluRay.x264.AAC5.1-[YTS.MX] (4)

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Tordesillas,
the year of Our Lord 1554.

She is 74 years old

and has been locked up in this castle
for almost half a century.

She has been successively
betrayed by her father,

by her husband and by her son.

Daughter of the Catholic Monarchs,

wife of Philip of Habsburg,
mother of the Emperor Charles V,

queen in her own right
of Castile and Aragon.

They call her

Joan the Mad.

When I close my eyes,
he approaches me.

I feel his skin beneath my fingertips.

His voice flows into my ears.

I perceive the odor of his armpits.

He arouses my desire.

I do not fear death.

No matter what,
it will take me to Philip.

JOAN THE MAD

Lady Elvira.

We're spending the night here.

Laredo is only a few hours away.

- Anything else, Captain?
- Whatever Her Majesty orders.

Alvar!

May I still call you Alvar?

Of course, Princess.

You may still call me Joan.

Look.

You gave it to me, remember?

I'll never forget
our happy childhood days.

They're taking me to be wed, Alvar.

In Flanders.

All my blessings.

What are you thinking, daughter?

This time tomorrow,
I'll be on my way to Flanders.

And far from you.

It's God's will.

And yours too.

That is so.

The sovereign of Castile,

Queen Isabella the Catholic,

has set out,
accompanied by her children.

They are all there,

Princess Isabella,
John, Catherine and Maria,

to accompany their sister Joan

as she sets out
on her great journey to Flanders.

Laredo, August, 1496.

Be a good girl, Catherine.

I'll be thinking about you.

God chose to make me
Queen of Castile.

My people have crossed the seas
in search of another world.

Yet the sea is still a mystery to me.

I am too old to undertake a voyage.

So you will never come to see me.

My duty is to your father
and to Castile,

as your duty will be
to Philip of Habsburg,

to Burgundy and to Flanders.

I shall obey you, Mother.

I know that my life, like yours,
requires greater endeavor

than my humble person can offer.

That is so.

My prayer book.

I got it from my mother.

You were born a princess
and must accept it.

It is true that your marriage
to Philip is for political reasons,

but some happiness is also possible.

No one, except God,

possesses the power and knowledge
of what is to come.

Did you know Father
before you married him?

I married Ferdinand for love.

How will I know if I love Philip?

With time.

Put it there. Be careful.

With time.

Perhaps you will never know.

If that is so,

take consolation in living
in sanctity with a man.

And if you're asked,

answer as I do,
that you married him for love.

It is an enormous task.

At times,

a painful and terrible task.

Don't cry, child.

You'll soon have a husband.

Soon, my princess,

you'll be a woman
and you'll dream of paradise.

Ready.

Raise your bows.

Take aim.

Now!

The Spanish fleet arrived yesterday

in Ostende, Sire.

- How is the princess?
- Princess Joan

is in good health.

She is anxious to meet you.
Tomorrow morning

- she will reach Brussels.
- Lord de Veyre,

how soon can we be in Brussels?

With a change of horses,
we can be in the palace

tomorrow evening, Sire.

My horse!

Double formation!

Present arms!

Brigitte de la Motte.

Carlota de Foix.

Inés de Bravante.

The letter, Madam.

The letter.

"I have the honor to address

the Archduke of Austria and
Duke of Burgundy and Bravante,

and to wish you every blessing
on behalf of my beloved parents,

the monarchs of Castile and Aragon.

I also wish to express
my joy and satisfaction

on establishing between our kingdoms

an eternal union blessed
by the Pope and the Church."

The princess and I wish
to be married immediately.

Who must give us the blessing?

Sire, it is the Bishop of Malinas
who is to bless this union,

but that will be, God willing,
a week from now.

The ceremony will take place
on that day as planned,

but the princess and I wish
to celebrate it in privacy, now.

Do you agree, Princess?

Your blessing, Father.

Kneel down.

May the Lord God

confirm your mutual consent
expressed before the Church.

What God has joined
let no man pull asunder.

We shall see you at the official
ceremony within a week.

What?

Don't leave.

Please.

Brigitte, Inés.

Brigitte, Inés! Come here!

The old folk say that
a lass pulls more than a rope.

But they forget one thing.

You have to adorn the lass.

Now, my princess,
take a little turn around.

Just a few steps.

If you don't close your legs,
the whole court will laugh.

Leave us.

Are all lovers like him, Aida?

No, my child, no.

Tonight I'll paint your nipples
and your lips with henna.

I want you to drive him mad.

October 1497.

Death has begun
to trace out its plans

by stealing the life of John,

the firstborn of
the Catholic Monarchs.

Fate will still have to cut short
another four lives

before making Joan into
the heiress to the crown of Castile.

It's a girl!

Meanwhile, at the court in Brussels,

life was forcing its way through,

thanks to Joan's abundant fertility.

Your daughter.

She will be called Eleanor.

Majesty.

Sire, it was a very easy birth,
and very beautiful.

Joan, are you there?

She's a glutton.

She wants to devour me.

You're the only princess
who breast-feeds her children.

- Why do you insist?
- I like it.

And so does Eleanor.

It helps ease
the pain in my breasts.

There are other ways
to ease that pain.

I will not be milked like a cow.

My daughter is alive and I want
to feed her with my own blood.

Your words and your behavior
are surprising everyone.

Don't get dressed.

Lord de Veyre received a letter
from my father. I have to see him.

Let him wait.

He has told me
there is important news

regarding our friends from France.

Your husband has duties which
require his attention, Madam.

My husband's first duty
is to make me happy.

I am full.

You are mad.

Joan, it is barely a month
since you gave birth.

We mustn't abandon ourselves
to such transports.

Despite everything,

the days and months passed
happily in the palace.

Excuse me.

- Yes, Madam?
- An indisposition.

Accompany her. You go too.

It is nothing, Sire.

- Madam, do you feel well?
- Yes, very well.

The poor man shits,
the rich man too.

- What can ail her?
- I don't know.

Is anything wrong, Madam?

How pregnant is she?

Eight months.

She wouldn't have it here and now?

Her Highness is like a cow.

Say something, Madam, please.

Come in.

A ribbon.

October 1500.

The newborn would become,
with time,

the glorious Emperor Charles I
of Spain and V of Germany.

Give the word.

Lady Elvira!

Lady Elvira!

The hand of death would soon
strike down Queen Isabella,

on November 24, 1504.

Send the swiftest horseman you have

to carry the news to Flanders.

I hear there is an old friendship
between you and Princess Joan.

My father was her Latin teacher.
I often played with the princess.

Perhaps the news will be less painful
coming from your lips.

How many days will it take you
to reach Brussels?

I'll ride day and night.

"Because of the great heat

and because the windows were closed,

her dress was undone

and her breasts were revealed
like two apples from Paradise."

A woman and a tipple by the nipple.

Raise your head, Madam.

Look a little longer
in this direction. Like that.

What are they laughing at?

Aida is competing with you, Sir.

- I do not understand, Madam.
- Ask Inés de Bravante.

- Why are you laughing, Lady Inés?
- I'm being tickled.

Ask her who tickles her at night.

Which fortunate gentleman
tickles you at night?

Does he make you laugh like that?

What a cheek! How dare you?

My breast guards
that secret jealously.

Is it the breast
you're painting so carefully

which guards your secrets?

Without the necklace.

- It's better with the pink dress.
- I hate pink.

It's my lord Philip who hates pink.

"And turning the other way,

ashamed that he could
be seen by Diafebus,

unable to pronounce another
word, he said: I love."

A double step.

Right, left.

Madam.

A messenger has arrived from Spain.

Welcome, Captain.

Speak. What has
happened in Castile?

Castile has been orphaned.

Lord de Veyre.

Proclaim court mourning.

"Thank you" is little
for your efforts, Captain.

Thank you.

Where is Philip?

The archduke wasn't feeling well.

He went out for air a moment ago.

He'll be in the hunting lodge.

Do you know what this news means?

You and the archduke are now
the monarchs of Castile.

Make way for Princess Joan!

Make way for the archduchess!

What is happening?

They're guarding the palace, as usual.

Restrain that dog!

You want it to attack me?

Where is the archduke?

Lord de Veyre,

where is the archduke?

It would be best
if you did not know, Madam.

Traitor!

Traitor!

Traitor! Traitor!

Monster!

- Son of a bitch!
- Mind your tongue!

You're talking like a slut,
and I won't be humiliated.

It is I who have been humiliated!
I who have been betrayed!

I feel dirty.

Soiled!

Contaminated!

Mad.

You're mad.

Mad!

Always mad!

It must be madness

to love someone
as despicable as you!

Who was that?

I have to know who that whore is.

Sire.

I shall give you the news.

Queen Isabella is dead.

The archduchess is now
Queen Joan of Castile,

and you are consort.

My mother is dead!

My husband is unfaithful!

My mother is dead!

My husband is unfaithful!

My mother is dead!

My husband is unfaithful!

My mother is dead!

None of this is true.

My imagination!

Whims.

Whims of Joan the Mad,
because I am mad.

I'm mad, am I not?

Yes, I am mad.

Mad, mad, mad!

I'm mad! I'm mad!

Mad!

Inés, come here.

Turn round.

Hold this whore.

- Madam, please...
- Hold her!

Scissors.

- Madam...
- I said I want scissors.

Do not commit an injustice.

What happened?

The queen is suspicious.

She thinks that...
And with her own hands...

Why did you do it?

I hate everything that comes
between your body and mine,

even the air.

Your behavior is scandalous.

I am sovereign of Burgundy
and I've made you king of Castile.

But I also want to be your wife,

- your woman and your whore.
- Am I to be compelled?

I'm more powerful than you,
and craftier.

And more shameless,
to speak to me in that tone.

It isn't shamelessness.

It's passion.

Uncontrollable passion.

With reason it's rumored
that you are mad.

Mad, because I love you
to the point of madness?

Mad, because I want you
to be mine?

Mad,

because I don't want you going to
another for what I have in abundance?

Mad, because I aspire to engender

and bear your children?

Mad...

Mad with love.

Is that madness?

Joan and Philip traveled to Spain

to be proclaimed
sovereigns of Castile.

The people gave
an enthusiastic welcome

to the young monarchs.

Look at her.

She's holding him so tightly
it's like she wanted to hurt him.

Untimely bouts of crying,
groundless fits of rage,

continuous eccentricities.

She chooses

the ugliest ladies-in-waiting.
You know why?

Yes, the king is
an inveterate womanizer,

unworthy of the love
the queen bears him.

And unworthy of occupying
the throne of Castile.

Philip wants to be rid
of a jealous wife

and also be rid of one
who is queen of Castile.

Don't pretend you don't know.

Admiral Henríquez.

I want you to love Philip
as if he too were Castilian.

I want the people
to be happy with their king.

The people love you
and will love what you love.

I am a doctor, and I can tell you.

- She is not mad.
- The people think otherwise.

They don't give the same meaning
to the word "mad" as you do.

Speak to those who have lived
with her in Flanders.

They'll tell you
what they've seen and heard.

We have visitors. Honest people.

Leave this table free.

Your turn.

A gentleman has requested
your services.

Very well.

Welcome.

She pleases you?

Her name is Aixa.

Would you like to see her close up?

What for?

It's a beautiful body.

The body of a woman
who risks her life every night

coming to dance here.

She risks her life?

- Why?
- For money.

She risks her life so as not to die,

to go on living.

Don't you know
the Moors are persecuted?

She's a Moor?

A king's daughter.

Would you like to see all of it?

He's been so long.
What if something has happened?

- Your worries are unfounded.
- He's been gone for five hours.

The king forgets everything
when he goes hunting.

Hunting!

You think he's hunting?

Undoubtedly.

- Elvira.
- Madam.

Philip is unfaithful.

You like tormenting yourself.

You know that the king
has often betrayed me.

Say you won't scold me,

and I'll tell you
what I've recently learned.

Speak, Madam.

No, it isn't him.

You were saying?

The king goes out every afternoon,

and he doesn't come back
for at least three hours.

I had my page Hernán follow him.

Where did the king go?

You will never guess.

He went to a mansion
known to be a place of sin.

Are you sure it was the king?

Yes, yes, yes!

Would to God
I were mistaken, Elvira!

Madam, think. There can only be
the lowest of women in that place.

And what? They're still women
like us, aren't they?

Don't they have the same
between their legs as we do?

He's here!

He's here!

I was worried.

Joan, please.

- Tell me if you're unfaithful.
- What do you mean?

I know you visit
a house of ill repute.

Speak.

Answer me. At least
take the trouble to lie.

It's impossible for us
to live in peace.

Tell me you're faithful.

Trust your husband.

Tell me you're faithful.

- Tell me and I'll believe you.
- My dear Joan,

you worry me.

You ask too much of me
with your rages.

I want to be yours.

I want to love you
even if you loathe me.

Whatever I say?

Whatever you say.

Your Flemish gentleman.

He tries to conceal who he is,
but his appearance gives him away.

Dress as what you are.

Make him dream of heaven,
but don't grant it to him.

If I am heaven, how can I refuse
it to him? He's relentless.

- Just a little piece.
- This little piece.

- In any case, don't kiss him.
- Not as I kiss you.

Hell of Satan and Beelzebub,

raging fire of corpses,

forces of the air, of the earth,
of the sea and of fire,

I call on you.

If it is true that you have
more power than humankind,

come to my aid, here and now.

Satan, Asmodeus
and your thousand names.

How much do you need?

- 500 escudos.
- Speak to Lord de Veyre.

Halt!

State your name.

Captain Santos Fernández Corrales.

You're under arrest.
Your weapons.

Follow us.

Your bow isn't very tense today.
What's wrong?

My heart belongs to you, Madam.

You bring peace to my senses,

and I could not do without you,

but I have to leave for Burgos.

- With the monarchs perhaps?
- Yes.

With the monarchs.

Follow me,

and ask in exchange
whatever you may desire.

A house, possessions, servants,

and even an allowance.

- Are you a friend of the king?
- More than a friend.

You could say that the king and I

are one and the same person.

I want to be a lady-in-waiting.

Don't you want to have me near?

It's dangerous.

For me or for you?

For both of us.

Whether here or in Burgos,
I need protection,

exposed as I am

to the rumors and condemnations
of the townspeople.

I am a Moor.

The only protection I have

is that offered by Captain Corrales.

Before you spill forth,
I demand an answer.

Whatever you want.

It is September, 1506,

when the new sovereigns of Castile

make their entrance into Burgos.

- Ana Sainz de Torrijos.
- Amalia Zapico.

- Cristina de Acevedo.
- Beatriz de Bobadilla.

María del Llano Vilches.

They are too beautiful.

They have been chosen
from the most noble families,

as is fitting.

Very well.

Welcome.

I wish the Castilian court
to be noted for its austerity.

Extravagant hairstyles
and ostentatious garments

are forbidden.

I want simplicity.

You may leave.

Are you happy?

Very.

The people love us.

The people are delighted to have
a king as handsome as you.

And so am I.

Come.

Put your hand here.

It's moving.

Tell my father that if it's a boy,
I'll call it after him.

Kiss me.

The King of Castile.

Can Parliament really decide
who governs Castile?

Officially, yes.

But the effect
of this meal on our mood

will be more influential.

You and I shall decide.
I abandon Castile unconditionally.

I want to attend
to my affairs in Italy.

Germaine, who was reared at
the effeminate French court,

is not adapting to being
the wife of Ferdinand of Aragon.

She finds us coarse and austere.

I want a son.

The doctors say that a woman's
womb can refuse to procreate

when there's a lack of affection
around her.

They may be right.

Also, why should I hide it?

My marriage to Germaine
did not please Castile.

They accuse me of betraying
Isabella's memory.

Tell me about Joan.

Joan is pregnant again.
She is in good health but is prone

to certain obsessions,
to outlandish behavior.

Save your excuses.
My daughter Joan is mad.

How do you think I should act?

You want to exclude her
from government,

and I don't object.

I have said so
to your father, the emperor.

Perhaps you should see her
in Burgos and judge for yourself.

No, I don't want to see her
in that state.

Moreover, it would be cruel
to confront her with Germaine.

But, I admit,

it's also unfair to prevent
Germaine from meeting

her stepdaughter,
the mad queen of Castile.

More wine?

De Veyre...

Do you believe Joan is mad?

It suits Don Ferdinand
that his daughter is mad.

And do you believe
that it also suits me?

That is not the question.

Who does Joan want for king?
Her father or her husband?

For the moment, you have
the father's permission

to declare that
his daughter is mad.

Congratulations, Sire.

Leave us, Elvira.

Come here.

You are frozen.

- Do you feel unwell?
- No, Madam.

Beatriz...

- Are you jealous?
- I don't know.

As all women are, I think,
Your Majesty.

What do you think of jealousy?

Jealousy accompanies love, Madam.
That's the saying.

I believe it's even more than that.

I believe you aren't in love
if you aren't jealous.

Come close.

Closer.

They say that you know a spell
for provoking jealousy.

No, Madam.

Be still.

The hand of Fatima.

Come.

Look straight ahead.
Keep your eyes on the horizon.

Do you see that officer
commanding the guard?

What do you think of him?

He seems handsome, Madam.

He and I played at games
which were not so innocent.

We invoked Venus with a spell.

My God!

Why am I telling you this?

I've only known you for a few days.

Beatriz...

- Swear that you will be discreet.
- I swear, Majesty.

Not a word to Elvira.

- She's such a grouch.
- As you wish, Madam.

And not a word to your uncle
Juan Manuel.

No, Madam.

I'm going to put Philip to the test.

Will you help me?

- Yes, Madam.
- Your spell.

Cast your spell.

Is something worrying you, Sire?

No. It's nothing.

- Are you feeling better, Sire?
- I'm well, thank you.

We must talk.

Come in.

You dare to come here,

and instead of reproaching you
I'm trembling with joy.

I bring a message from the queen.
She's waiting for you. She wants

to make you jealous.

I am already jealous,

but of her, because she has
more time with you than I.

I fear that, like the queen,
we have all lost our reason.

Alvaro de Estúñiga.

I hear you have been in Italy.

Yes, Majesty,
fighting the enemies of Spain.

Gonzalo de Córdoba is
the best captain in the world.

What he would give to hear you
say those words, Your Highness.

How long is it since you said
farewell to me in Laredo?

August, 1496, Majesty.

Why are you trembling?
It isn't the first time I've kissed you.

Have you forgotten?

You don't forget
what marks you for life.

We were children.

Tell me, what do you think of me now?

Now,

you are the queen, Madam.

Your father was my Latin teacher.

Do you remember the words
you said to me one day?

In Latin.

Animula vagula, blandula.

Do you remember?

Little, wandering and tender soul.

I became enraptured...

Come here.

Sit down.

Put your hand on mine.

Obey your queen.

That's it.

Very good.

Don't take it away until I tell you.

Whatever happens.

Apparently, the soldiers
of the Great Captain

do not aspire only
to great exploits with arms.

And I regret that you cannot
even blush with shame.

Sire.

- I can assure you that...
- Silence!

I give you three days
to leave Burgos.

Go back to Italy

and ask the Captain

to give you the most
dangerous missions.

Forgive me.

I don't understand, Madam.

The king is jealous.

Wait.

You couldn't have served
your queen better in Italy.

Thank you.

Elvira!

Elvira!

Elvira, come and embrace
your queen!

Oh, Elvira.

He has banished Alvaro de Estúñiga
to keep him away from me.

Yes, Elvira, he's furious, he's jealous.

The king is jealous!

Jealous.

I made him jealous.

I'm so happy!

What's wrong?

May I speak, Majesty?

What news do you bring?

Madam,

for several days now, the Moor...

No, be quiet.
I don't want to know any more.

Go away, I shall
reward your services.

Speak.

Madam, what I have to say
will grieve you deeply.

Continue.

The Moor is not in Tudela
as Your Highness believes.

Where is she?

I know that you know.

Where is she?

She wrote a letter which was
secretly delivered to the king.

On receipt of the reply
she came to Burgos.

I cannot enjoy one day of peace.

The Moor in Burgos.

A letter to the king.

She wrote to the king!
You hear, Elvira?

- You know its contents?
- Yes, Majesty.

Do you have it?

Give it to me.
Give me that letter!

Leave us.

Do not read it.

Not read it?

Not read it?
You have never been in love!

You've never been jealous,
you're heartless!

Look at how I obey you.

"Sire, you granted my wish

to be one of the queen's ladies."

And the king answered.

And that woman is here.

And because she is beside me,
Philip is here too.

- Madam...
- Be quiet!

- Granada is far away.
- Flanders is farther, believe me.

De Veyre...

Excuse me.

Sire.

Come in.

Where did she get such strength?

She's more nervous than ever.

Now she wants to make me jealous.

She watches you like a child.

It is she who is jealous.

She is mad.

Do not say that about the queen.

It's my duty to tell you
the truth, Sire.

If you insist...

What is the truth?

The queen is mad,
as was her grandmother,

Isabella of Portugal.

And, if you allow me, Sire,

as was her mother,
Isabella of Castile,

whose fanaticism and obstinacy
you cannot doubt.

You are not in Flanders now.
Don't say that in Castile.

Sire, if I dare speak to you
like this, it is with the hope

that you will finally assume
your mission as sovereign

and free Castile from the burden
of superstition and fanaticism.

Be quiet.

Be quiet, please.

My lord de Villena, I suppose
you are aware of everything.

She is known by
the assumed name of Beatriz.

But her real name is Aixa,
a Moorish name. Nothing else.

Even Philip is unaware
of her true condition.

It doesn't matter.

Henceforth, she is my niece Beatriz.

My niece, by order of the king.

Only the king can bring
his mistress to the palace.

My lords.

I am sure you will
all fulfill the promise,

which you sealed at the time
with your signatures,

to protect the king should it be
necessary to put away Queen Joan

and the people did not approve
of that serious decision.

Well.

The king has decided
to confine his unhappy wife

and duly informs the noblemen
of Spain through my person.

The king-archduke's insistence

could lead to terrible ills.

His Majesty is doing
what he must, Admiral.

The ambition of certain Flemish
nobles, led by you,

is to give Philip
the throne of Castile.

That is the question here,
and none other.

What you call ambition

is simply good sense.

Moderate your words, Admiral.

If Queen Joan is unfit to reign,
to who else but him

does the crown belong
while Prince Charles is not of age?

Only Parliament can decide
on such an important matter.

Valladolid recognized Isabella
and Ferdinand's daughter

as queen of Castile.

Will you permit usurpation

and injustice?

Those who do not fear Philip's anger

accompany me to an audience
with the queen.

You will see that
those who say she is mad

are mistaken or are lying.

Madam, the noblemen
wish to speak with you.

What shall I tell them?

Shall I send them away?

I am calmer now.

Show them in.

My lords...

A painful duty brings us
before you, Madam.

- What is it?
- The kingdom

is under great threat
and only you can prevent it.

Speak.

The king is abusing the affection
of his faithful wife.

That is so, Admiral.

The king is the most iniquitous of men.

- Is it possible?
- God in Heaven!

I did not say that.

No matter! I say it.

The Flemish are plundering Castile.

Your people are going hungry.

It's the eternal hunger, Sire.

At last.

- Are they all here?
- Beatriz was not in her room.

They are looking for her.

Madame de Torrijos,

write something here.

Did you hear me, Madam?

The fate of the kingdom could
depend on this discussion.

We are here as representatives
of the assembly of nobles.

Yes, I am listening.

You said the people were
going hungry. Continue.

The king,

backed by some noblemen,
is claiming that your state of...

It isn't you.
Maria del Llano, your turn now.

Is their writing so important?

- More than anything.
- More than saving a kingdom?

More than that.

Nor is it you.

You, Amalia.

Madam, listen to me.

Some doubt your capacity to rule.

You must rule

- and clarify matters.
- Yes, later.

It isn't you, either.

- The king is plotting against you!
- How dare you!

- He wants to help Castile.
- Cristina de Acevedo.

- Why aren't you writing?
- I don't know how to.

You don't know how to write?
Untrue, gentlemen!

Do you believe this lady
does not know how to write?

Get out of here.

Out, out, out.

Where is Beatriz?

Send her to me.

But she is our queen, gentlemen.

You've seen and heard it.
Can you deny the evidence?

Could she be madder?

Come here, Beatriz.

- Write whatever comes to mind.
- You know it isn't necessary.

- Is this your letter?
- It is mine.

You are frank, at least.

What have you done to the king?

What spell did you cast on him?

The king loves me.

The king loves all
who flatter his instincts.

The king loves me,
and I love the king.

Be quiet!

Kneel down before
the queen of Castile!

- Kneel!
- The king hates you and loves me!

I'll only kneel before him.

I'm dreaming.
What is this slut saying?

I believe she is defying me.

The king enjoys me, not you.

You say that to my face?

A queen can receive
no greater offense!

Soldiers!

Attention! Line up!

Your swords!

Defend yourself!

Defend yourself, or I'll have
to summon your master Satan!

Defend yourself!

God of vengeance,
destroy this witch!

Kill her and her lover
with the black death!

Kill her! Kill her! Kill her!

Kill her!

Madam, seeing you like this,
your enemies will be convinced

that you are mad.

That is the sad heritage

bequeathed by Isabella of Portugal
to her granddaughter Joan.

That queen was mad,
and the queen of Castile is also mad.

That, my lords, is the sad truth
for me and for Castile.

You may leave.
My thanks to all of you.

Sire...

When you speak
in the assembly of nobles,

you should do so
with the authority and resolve

of one who is assuming government
because of the queen's incapacity.

Excuse me, I don't feel well.

Should I summon the doctor?

Leave me be.

I want to rest.
I need to think.

Be seated.

You know the sad reason
why we are gathered here.

The queen is demented,
and is thus unfit to govern.

We can extend her life only
by keeping her in close confinement.

Are you ready, my lords,

to announce publicly
that Queen Joan is mad,

to recognize me as the only
legitimate sovereign of Castile,

and, should my enemies foment
disturbance in the kingdom,

to lend me whatever aid I may need?

We shall all do
what Your Highness wishes

for the good of Castile.

All of us.

Is that not so, my lords?

- Aye!
- That is so!

Are you going to allow them
to toy with you?

To question your capacity to rule?

They have stated that you are mad.

Do you know what that means?
They are saying the queen is mad.

If only it were true.

If only I were mad.

If only it were the fruit of my madness

and not of my husband's treachery.

Leave me.

Halt!

- I request an audience.
- You cannot go in, Sire.

An audience in the name
of Heaven and Castile!

Let him come in.

Arise, Alvaro.

What do you wish?

I am but an unworthy soldier,
but today I speak for the people.

They ask you not to give way
to the greed of the Flemish.

There is a plot against you.
The king wants to dethrone you

and imprison you forever.

He wants you off the throne,
and also out of your bed.

A bed that another will soon occupy.

This document recognizes
the queen's incapacity

and authorizes you, Sire,
to order her imprisonment.

Thus, all those here present,

constituting the assembly
of nobles of the kingdom,

name you regent of Castile

until Prince Charles comes of age.

Take the throne, Sire.

We will solemnly take the oath
you demand of us.

The crown is yours.

Hail to the king!

Hail to the queen of Castile,

of Leon and Granada,
Seville, Galicia and Gibraltar,

of Murcia, Jaen, the Canary Islands
and the new Atlantic lands,

heir to the throne of Aragon
and archduchess of Austria!

Why are you surprised?

Were you not expecting me?

I know you are dealing
with serious business.

It has to do with locking me away
for the rest of my life.

It has to do with bestowing
on Philip of Austria

the crown which belongs to me alone.

It has to do with Castile.
It has to do with me.

And knowing you had a grudge
against my poor, black dress,

to make you happy,

and to seem like a queen
to you, at least once,

I have put on, as you see,
my most dazzling robes.

Lord de Veyre...

You are responsible for having
inspired in this puppet

the senseless dream of becoming
the master of Castile.

Your madness excuses you, Madam.

Do not hide, my lord Juan Manuel.

A descendant of
Saint Ferdinand the King

covering up the excesses
of an archduke of Austria.

You too have come here,
my lord Marquis of Villena,

Duke of Escalona.

Perhaps these gentlemen do not know

that your ancestor
Diego López Pacheco

was one of the assassins
of Lady Inés de Castro,

that your noble father
gave poison to Prince Alfonso,

that you had your first wife killed.

If Heaven would grant you
sufficient understanding,

you might see that you can offer
nothing but oppression to Castile.

Yours is truly a glorious race!

I am well aware

that these doctors here
want to lock me up as a lunatic.

But I will not allow it.

Kill people, my lords.
That is your right.

But you may not yet bury them alive!

Be quiet!

This assembly has already
decreed your arrest.

As for you, Philip,

what can I say

to console you?

You are pale.

Ambition is devouring you.

You need a lot of strength to act
in accordance with your greed.

Enough, Madam.

Leave here.
Don't force me to use violence.

Yes, by God!

It is time I began to reign!

To love a man
is to love as all women do.

A queen should love like God
and love an entire people!

Open the doors!

Marquis...

Soldiers, break up that mob!

What is it you want, Philip?

My people have lost
their reason, as I have.

You see, we lunatics abound in Burgos.

God be with you, my lords.

The mad queen salutes you.

Sire, I beg you.

Pay heed to prudence and pity.

Silence, Admiral!

I promise you'll rue your temerity.

Leave me.

Leave me, my lords.

I want to be alone.

I'll send you a palliative.

The balm I need to recover
is all the blood of my enemies.

Calm yourself, Majesty.

Lord de Veyre!

The proclamation.

The proclamation.

The proclamation
you prepared for the people.

I want to sign it.

Here, Sire.

Sign here.

Here, here.

You don't want me as king.

You'll have me as tyrant.

Sire.

Sire!

Can you hear me?

Have him taken to his apartments.

He has to be bled.

My love...

My love...

Your... forgiveness...

Your... forgiveness, Joan.
To ease... my torment.

I don't want...

I don't... want to go...
without... your forgiveness.

My love,
try to speak more clearly.

I want to understand you.

Madam, the contact with
the sheets will hurt him.

Allow me.

Bring me scissors.

My love.

- Cold...
- Leave me alone.

Cold...

- It's cold.
- Leave us.

Joan...

Joan...

It's cold, Joan.

Joan...

Joan...

Lord!

You'll live, my love.

My love, you'll live.

You'll live.

Is there no cure?

What can God's mercy not cure?

You mustn't let your spirit
weaken. Trust in God.

In God?

And why not in you?
Are you not doctors?

The king is young.
He is only twenty-eight.

Would all my blood suffice
to revive his?

Speak, for pity's sake.

We have done
all that is in our power.

It is adversity, Madam.

Its ways are unknown to us.

All I have for his life.

My scepter for his life.

Let whoever covets a crown save him,

give him back to me.

Do you know of no one
who cures this kind of illness?

A necromancer who works wonders?

Madam, ask the Almighty for help.

God doesn't want to hear me.

I can find pity nowhere.

Do not give in to despair, Madam.
Have courage.

Have courage? Have courage?

When your wife or child is dying,
I'll tell you to have courage!

God is taking him
because I love him too much.

I'll make amends.
I'll love him less if he lives.

What can I do?
Bring his mistress to him?

Who knows?
Her presence might revive him.

What can love not do?

If I were dead and he called me,
I would answer.

Bring that woman at once!

Sweet Jesus!

What am I saying?

Queen Isabella,
my dearest mother,

if, as your people say,
God has you in His bosom,

intercede for this unhappy
daughter you left behind.

Ask that Philip and I
may die together.

Madam, the king wishes to see you.

May God still grant me
a little strength

- so I can ask your forgiveness.
- Don't speak, Philip.

It's cold.

Joan, it's cold.

Why?

Am I going to rot in an icy grave?

Or will waves of fire
rain down on me?

That's what I deserve for my sins.

No, you're wrong.
You're delirious.

Afraid...

I'm...

I'm afraid, Joan.

I'm afraid.

Give me your breath.

Put your lips on my forehead,

and forgive me.

- Your forgiveness, Joan.
- No, don't go.

Don't leave me, my love.

Tell me that you want to live.

Say it. Say...
I want to live, I want to live.

Say it, my love.
Say, I want to live.

Say it.

Is he going to die?

It would be best if you left, Madam.

Philip wanted to be buried
in Granada,

and to carry out this wish

the queen set out across
the lands of Castile.

But the cortège didn't get very far.

In Torquemada,

it had to stop so that Joan
could give birth to a girl,

the posthumous fruit
of her passion for Philip.

She would never reach Granada.

Although Parliament never
took away her title of queen,

Joan, at the age of 28,

was shut away in the castle
of Tordesillas.

Philip's body was laid to rest
in a nearby monastery,

and Joan was allowed
to visit it from time to time.

Have pity, my love.

Have pity.

Almost half a century, 47 years,

were not enough for history,

imperturbable, unforeseeable,

to cloak Joan's heart with oblivion.

Did everything that
I remember happen?

Perhaps I will forget your name,

but never the embrace that
caused me to moan with pleasure.