Borgia (2011) s01e12 Episode Script

Through Spain's courageous assistance, Rome is liberated.
If Your Holiness wishes the properties returned, Your Holiness will have to take them.
Order Captain General Juan Borgia onto the field of battle.
I will happily meet the challenge.
But I do not want to be a priest.
I do not have the soul for it.
Whose bastard son is this? Yours.
You whore! There is no room for you in the Borgia family, nor in my heart.
Do you have a mother, Briconnet? Then you know why you die.
My sweet wife did not survive the sea voyage.
As of now, I am a widower and you, a murderer.
No.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.
My half brother, Pedro Luis, I had him murdered.
Who finds peace? If hell exists, we will both burn.
The lucky man, or the faithful one? Hey, hey.
The Laocoon, a relic from the magnificent days of ancient Rome.
A cautionary tale, the high priest Laocoon tried to warn the Trojans about the large wooden horse.
Fear the Greeks, even bearing gifts.
The goddess Athena, as revenge, sent a serpent, which rose from the sea to destroy Laocoon and his sons.
The Trojans believed that Laocoon's death proved him wrong.
God may destroy a man, but the man may still be right.
His Highness, Goffredo Borgia, Prince of Squillace, and Her Highness, Princess Sancia d'Aragona.
We welcome you, our son, and our daughter by marriage, who God has blessed with a child.
We long to hold those precious jewels close to our heart.
We anoint Oliviero Carafa Dean of the Sacred College.
And renew Rafaele Riario-Sansoni's tenure as Camerlengo of the Holy Roman Church.
Holiness, General de Cordova and the Duke of Urbino.
As promised, we have captured the traitor Virginio Orsini.
We deliver him here to your divine presence for sentencing.
Bravo, great captain, bravo.
What took so long? I beg you, wise Father, to spare my brother from the pangs of death.
What other choice have we, but death? - Exile.
- Exiles return, usually with a foreign army behind them.
Father, may I choose Virginio Orsini's punishment? How fitting.
What will it be? I must ponder the answer carefully.
In the interim, place the criminal in a dungeon at Terra Nuova.
So be it.
And tomorrow, General de Cordova, we shall bestow upon you our highest honor the Golden Rose.
Oh! Oh! Lucrezia? Lucrezia, come and sit here.
Thank you for the picnic, Mama.
The air here by the river is so fresh.
Fresher than the air at the Vatican.
Please excuse us, soldier.
As you know, Pantisilea has come to work at my villa.
That whore betrayed me.
In a worse way than you know.
Since the first day she arrived from Spain, Pantisilea has served Giulia Farnese.
Every letter you have written, every conversation has been revealed.
Giulia pretends to be your friend, but she's your nemesis.
Untie me.
I am not stupid.
Oh, not as bright as Cesare, but I ordered you to kill my brother and yet he lives.
Either you are incompetent, or treacherous.
And I know that you are not incompetent.
This evening, my mother holds a farewell dinner for Cesare.
See that when he leaves the villa, he goes to his grave.
I promise.
He will die tonight.
I find that I think best when I am fucking.
What? Sister.
As prefect of Rome, Prince of Tricarico, I can say what I choose.
Brother, you have the helmet but not the brain.
The sword, but not the arm to wield it.
Boys, no rough stuff.
Sancia, do you know what I love about our family? We can say or do anything to each other without fear of recrimination.
More than my life, I adore my mother.
And My brothers.
Be seated, both of you! Lucrezia.
Lucrezia.
Pantisilea.
Oh.
Now that I have left the convent, would you prefer to serve me again? Yes, Lady.
Fine.
Then all we need is the permission of Giulia Farnese.
She threatened me.
If I did not help her, she And you neglected to tell me this because I could not protect you.
I was new to the city.
Insecure, uncertain who to trust.
You will return to the Apostolic Palace with me tonight.
Lucrezia.
I go in search of further pleasure.
At our mother's tavern, there is a new whore who is delicious.
I leave her to you.
But be careful.
With all those bells jingling on your jacket, your enemies will know that you are coming.
Nini, follow me.
I must do something.
You, take the rest of the bravi.
Go back to your wife.
Hey! Is Juan here? Why? Do you want to watch your brother and me make love? I have the documents deeding the duchies of Benevento, Terracina and Pontecorvo to Juan.
We could not secure him the crown of Naples, so acre by acre, we will carve a kingdom out of the Papal States.
Even if he's not worthy? Cesare Cesare's fate is decided.
By you.
But perhaps the God you serve has other plans.
To breathe is a simple act, until it is made impossible.
No, Lord Jesus, I do not want to die.
Then tell me, who is the true Borgia man? You.
You are.
Cesare? I need to speak with you.
I took an opiate to deepen my sleep.
Tomorrow then.
So, tell me, couze What have you learned living in the Borgia household? To take what I want, regardless of the cost and who gets hurt.
As the scriptures say, "The Lord is a man of war.
" Happily, great captain, you have chosen to follow in the boots of Christ.
Odd that both Cesare and Juan Borgia are missing the ceremony.
Why are you in my bed? Do you not remember? I am celibate.
You will blacken this night from your memory, as I have done.
This time you can whip me.
That is the prefect's horse.
Someone has cut the stirrups.
Rodrigo, Juan's horse has returned.
We must find the boy.
Tell Cesare, search, search, search.
Soldiers will go to every home, every shop, every convent.
If no one answers, tell them break down each door.
Interrogate every living soul.
The masked man, de Corella, bring him to me at once.
He hasn't crept about all day.
I need to speak with him! On a matter of life and death.
I ask again, did anyone witness anything? If my brother is found harmed, and if the culprit has any ties to you Jews, this borgo will be leveled to the ground.
And you will be driven into the sea, with no Moses to part the waters.
Your race will be extinguished forever.
Francesc, I was praying for Juan in the Basilica, alone, when I heard these terrible moans of grief.
I searched every corner, but found no one.
And the torches began to float, circling me, as if dancing.
Then I realized, that the voice which moaned so intensely, was my own.
Come.
You found my brother? This is Nini, the man who left with Juan last night.
His senses have been beaten.
He is alive, but cannot hear or speak.
Have him taken to the Apostolic Palace to be cared for.
What next, General? We are near the river's edge.
Let us search every boat, every dock.
I have lived along this river since I moved to Rome from Dalmatia 28 years ago.
Fascinating, but I need to know I collect wood from the forest and I sell it in the market.
But at night I must guard my livelihood from the thieves.
So I sleep here Signore Schiavioni, I need to know if you saw any unusual sights last evening.
Unusual? No.
You did not see a fight? No.
Or a body? Oh, yes, I did see that.
At around two in the morning, a rider on a white horse appeared on the other shore.
He looked to and fro to see if anyone was watching But he did not see you? No, I learned well how to hide, escaping from the Turks.
The rider, satisfied that no one was around, he signaled into the darkness.
Now, the moon was barely a crescent, but my eyes are sharp.
Four men carried a body to just below San Girolamo's where garbage is dumped.
They threw the body into the river.
I laughed because it wouldn't sink.
But they heaved a large stone on its chest and it was gone.
Was the face of the man on the white horse hidden in any way? Masked or veiled? Oh, masked In truth, I cannot say, sir, I Saw no features on any of the men.
When I asked you if you had seen anything unusual, you said no.
I didn't lie.
I see 100 bodies tossed into the Tiber every year.
No one ever comes searching.
Here.
Here he is.
His throat has been severed.
He has been stabbed in seven, nine places.
His gloves are tucked into his belt.
There are ducats still in his purse.
There was no robbery.
This is revenge.
Take him to the Castel Sant'Angelo.
I'll tell my father.
He was my right eye.
Mama, Juan is dead.
You have located de Corella? No, Eminence, he has not been at any of his usual haunts.
He is nowhere.
Fuck.
Go, go, go.
Do not come back without him.
Holiness? No! Rodrigo, open the door.
The law of God rules my heart! Where is that girl, Pantisilea? At times like this, you need someone I do not need Pantisilea, Mama.
I do not need anyone.
Eternal rest, grant unto your faithful servant, Juan.
And let perpetual light shine upon him.
A just man shall be in everlasting remembrance.
An evil report, he shall not fear.
Almighty God, Juan Borgia, whom you have called out of this world, cause him to be joined to the fellowship of your saints.
Amen.
What does it say about a man whose own mother does not weep for him? Juan was either led into an ambush, or he knew his attackers, so his suspicions were not aroused.
He and the bravi must have been on foot, as he had taken off his riding gloves.
And both men were hit on the head directly from behind.
If he was on foot, why was the horse's stirrup cut? A good question.
The facts are few and contradictory.
We must begin an investigation to find the murderers.
And who will lead this investigation? I will.
Only His Holiness or the vice chancellor has the power to appoint a papal examiner.
His Holiness is unwell.
Since Sforza is no longer vice chancellor, the choice falls to me, as Camerlengo.
You realize that you are a suspect in the murder? I also know that I am innocent, with a brother's desire for the truth.
Still, the best way to avoid being investigated is to run the investigation.
So that no one questions your findings, you and I will conduct the interviews together.
Day one, the investigation in the murder of Juan Borgia.
Ascanio Cardinal Sforza, you swear to speak only God's truth? Yes, I do so swear.
- Be seated, Eminence.
- Thank you.
Do you understand why you are here? Because you think I had Juan Borgia executed.
I only wish I had.
Then you admit you felt ill will towards the prefect? As did we all, Eminence.
But as recently as five days ago, you threatened Juan.
Not even remotely.
I have not been to the Cancelleria Vecchia since my father gave the palace to you.
I have tried to maintain its luster.
You are acquainted with Count Antonio della Mirandola.
This is Lord Jaches, my secretary.
You killed my daughter, my beautiful Rosalina.
She was a suicide and far from beautiful.
You drove her to the ledge.
You are wrong.
My understanding is that, you refused to marry her and you disowned her.
I gave Rosalina love.
- They, hate.
- Borgia bastard, I will kill you! I was trying to make peace, but your brother is Was, a provocateur.
Is Antonio della Mirandola responsible? The good Count is all bluster.
And was in Ostia the night on which Juan disappeared.
While your secretary Prefers the extremities of men.
The engagement to marry was one of convenience, not passion.
You had reason to kill Juan, in order to hurt His Holiness, because he dismissed you as vice chancellor.
I travel well on the curving road of politics.
I take nothing personally.
How about your cousin, Giovanni? Has he revenged himself on Pope Alexander, for the divorce from Lucrezia Borgia? You need spend only a single hour with my cousin to understand this, Giovanni was born a bastard.
His watered-down blood holds none of the Sforza boldness.
He is, as he swore before God, impotent.
Some poor bastards never get beyond their past.
Miguel de Corella was last seen the morning after Juan's murder, riding at a fierce gallop on the Via Flaminia out of Rome.
Then I am adrift.
Why? What does de Corella know? Where I was the night Juan died.
Babbo? I have brought food.
For two days, you have not eaten.
Avenge, oh, Lord, the shedding of your servant's blood.
You once told me that we could be friends.
But you have not behaved as one.
Still, we share a common love for a man in much distress.
And so, we must be bound together.
Gianbattista Cardinal Orsini.
The other hand.
You swear to speak only God's truth? Eminence, you must say so out loud.
Yes, I do so swear.
Know this straight off, Juan Borgia asked me for a bribe in exchange for my brother's life.
Did you agree to pay this bribe? These ducats are not enough.
Your brother must acknowledge my superiority.
Virginio, say nothing.
The prefect of Rome, with his limitless benevolence And limitless appetites.
With his forgiving heart And his despicable soul.
Brother, His Grace has decided to release you if I apologize? Yes.
There are certain maxims in war.
Are there not, Prefect? To be a good warrior you must act as your enemy acts, even if he is a graceless, insolent coward.
No, I will not do what you would do, Borgia.
I will not beg for my life.
And so, Virginio, you win another battle.
In triumph, you will spend the rest of your days in this cage, bent in half.
You will die after many years, having forgotten how it feels to fully extend your legs.
At least, unlike you, I will walk into heaven.
Therefore, you had ample reason to want Juan Borgia dead.
Yes, but you know me, Rafaele.
I am a priest, not a soldier.
My soul does not possess the art of killing.
Easy enough to order the Orsini bravi to do so.
Juan's wrists were bound behind his back, his mouth gagged, as Virginio's were when he was brought before His Holiness.
A coincidence? My family has lived in Rome, nearly 2,000 years.
We have served kings, emperors, popes.
I am the last of my tribe.
When I die, the name Orsini dies.
Yet we die nobly, not stained by the sin of revenge.
Your words are meaningless.
Then place me in a cage beside my brother.
I am ready to stand before Almighty God.
Are you? I was not finished.
What more would you have asked? I served alongside your half-brother Pedro Luis, in the wars against the Moors.
I kept vigil by his coffin.
He was one of the finest men I've ever known.
Are you aware that Pedro Luis was murdered by Juan? I have recently learned so, yes, but why do you tell me this? To prove to you that I am interested solely in the truth.
Did the two of you plot to execute the prefect of Rome? You Borgia have been too long gone from Spain.
A true conquistador does not stab in the middle of the night.
We kill on battlefields.
You are not Spanish, Guidobaldo.
I cannot prove that I did not kill your brother.
Can you prove that you did not? I say this, I am known throughout Italy as a man whose word is unassailable.
I swear upon the lives of my children, I'm free of guilt.
We are your allies.
Look to our mutual enemy, France.
No, I will not sit in judgment by you, Cardinal Borgia, just as you would not sit before me, in the murder of my son, my beloved, Jean.
Your refusal leads me to believe that you are involved in prefect of Rome's demise.
If hearsay is gospel, I would believe that you stabbed the prefect out of jealousy.
Jealousy? Over the Lady Lucrezia.
Rumors span from the tip of Sicily to the doors of Notre Dame, that both you and your brother have had incestuous relations with your sister.
You dare speak such words? I do not subscribe to this gossip.
Neither does my king.
But what does it say about your family that others are so easily convinced the perversions are true? And Jesus Christ, his only begotten Son, who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and buried.
He descended into hell.
The third day, he rose from the dead and sits at the right hand of God, the Father.
And from thence, he shall come and judge the quick and the dead.
The fact is this, Fabrizio, Juan Borgia, transformed you into a cuckold and as a result, you murdered your wife, Nannia.
A moment of passion.
I pay the fine, confessed my sins, promising never to kill again.
Promises made in the confessional are vapors which dissipate quickly.
You Borgia think all families are the same as yours.
But I truly regretted my crime and I fear for my immortal soul.
When everybody else joined France against your father, why was I absent? You Colonna wanted Juan dead as a vendetta, for the murder of your nephew Marcantonio.
If we wanted anyone dead that person would be you, Eminence, because you had Marcantonio dismembered.
But we did nothing.
He suffered justly.
We know the vile act he committed upon your person.
Some secrets should never be revealed.
We still have no answers, no evidence, no viable suspects.
I have one.
You.
Me? I barely knew your brother.
You yourself said, better to be the investigator than to be investigated.
You are cousin to Giuliano della Rovere, and he hates the Pope.
Yes, perhaps Giuliano arranged for the murder.
But he's in France, far beyond our reach.
As if you would condemn him, were he here in Rome.
I love the Church and like any lover, will do what is necessary to keep her safe.
I switch loyalties not because I am facile, but because my greater loyalty is to God.
If there is evidence that my cousin Giuliano is guilty, if a single, reputable witness testifies, then I will shout his name from the bell tower behind Saint Peter's.
Then who? Who committed this crime? Cain rose up against Abel, his brother, and slew him.
Romulus killed Remus, as well.
That is how Rome was born.
Perhaps, instead of accusing my family, or the Orsini, or the Colonna, you should look to your own, or at yourself.
My wife, she is a wanton bitch.
She was born illegitimate.
Raised in a corrupt court.
She was notorious before your marriage.
I imagine that is why King Ferrante was so eager to marry her off to a Borgia.
Did you sleep with her, too? Is the baby she carries yours? No.
The creature belongs to Juan.
Did you have our brother murdered? No.
The truth.
Stop hurting me and I will swear to whatever you want me to say.
You are colorless, Goffredo, and therefore innocent.
I am here on official business.
When I told you that Juan had Pedro Luis assassinated, you said, "Then he must die.
" I am a suspect? If you have done this, confess and I swear, upon all that is holy, I will never tell Upon all that is holy? Well, well, well.
I need to know who.
For myself.
Though I believe Juan earned his death, I am no Medea.
I could not, I could never kill one of my children.
If you do not know that, then you and I are strangers.
Oh, Virgin Mother, when you stand on the side of God, turn away his wrath from us.
Enough of this.
One life ends, the others march on.
Who killed my son? God.
God is not so ruthless.
He killed his own son.
Why would he not kill yours? Pope Alexander, the sixth of that name.
Brothers, we have asked you here where we were first given the shoes of the fisherman, because our son is dead.
No deeper tragedy could have befallen us, as we loved Juan more than any man in the realm of God.
Grief beyond measure has entered our soul.
Life has lost all interest.
God punishes us, me, for my sins.
Juan has done nothing to deserve so brutal a fate.
I would give seven papal tiaras if I could bring my boy, like Lazarus, out of his tomb.
We do not know by whom the murder was committed.
Or the cause.
But we absolve the families Sforza, Colonna, and Orsini, whom we love.
May God pardon whoever is guilty.
We are resolved, without delay to place the needs of Holy Mother Church foremost in our thoughts and actions.
No longer will we consider ourselves, for no earthly pleasure can offer us solace.
We will institute the reforms which we pledged upon our ascension to the throne of Saint Peter.
We swear thus, upon the Holy Lance.
My love.
Depart.
I will make this suite even more beautiful than before, rivaling the Golden Palace of Nero.
No, you must leave.
Leave? Leave this bedchamber, leave the palace, leave Rome.
I am a priest, I live alone.
Rodrigo Be gone from my sight.
And go where? Rodrigo, please.
Perotto and I long to be married.
As much as we hope to please you, Lucrezia that is not possible.
Tomorrow you will leave for Spain to become a nun, as you so devoutly wished.
And you will care for your brother's orphaned children.
I will not.
I will marry Perotto.
Daughters are notoriously disobedient, but you are a soldier.
Yes, Holy Father, I will obey.
Perotto, no.
Pray for me, sweet Lucrezia.
I was almost happy.
Lust is not happiness, child.
Being faithful to God's truth is.
Father, you must not mourn Juan.
How can I not? Because buried underneath his death lies a deeper tragedy.
Juan had Pedro Luis murdered.
To speak such lies against the dead, against one's own brother.
De Cordova will verify the fact.
I tell you this not to give you greater grief, but to alleviate your sadness.
Shall we postpone the meeting? No.
We will bury the past in the rich soil of tomorrow.
You will escort Goffredo and his wife back to Squillace.
Then, after you crown Federigo king of Naples, you will leave Italy.
You have not once visited Valencia since you were named her archbishop.
We command you to go to Spain and fulfill your pastoral duties.
And what if, Father, I said I no longer wished to be archbishop? Nor wear the red robe of a cardinal? We would, like a deaf man, stare blankly as your mouth moves.
Holiness, we have had many letters of condolence.
This one from my cousin Giuliano, who writes from Avignon, that Juan's death grieves him as much as if it were his own son.
Ask Giuliano to come home to rejoin the consistory.
All is forgiven.
You dismiss your own blood, yet surround yourself with enemies? Though they have been our enemies, they have always spoken with honesty, unlike our sons.
Be gone, Cardinal Borgia, with Godspeed.
I do not want to leave Rome and live in the countryside with our mother.
Silvia will be there to distract you from Mother's meddling.
Even so.
Your stay at Lake Bolsena will be temporary, I promise you.
How will you shift Rodrigo's mood? The time has come for me to make new allies.
You have been my guardian angel.
I must sprout wings of my own.
Perhaps Alessandro killed Juan.
Or Gacet.
No, no, none of them own a white horse.
There are many white horses in Rome.
The Colonna have at least five.
The Germans, then.
They hated Juan.
What is this? Your brother's legacy to you.
Lucrezia.
Lucrezia.
Come.
I am sorry, once again, to disturb your slumber.
But I needed to talk to someone, to you.
What troubles my sweet brother? Sweet? No.
On the night of Juan's death, I was drunk.
My memory is blind, I do not know what sins I may have committed.
Did I kill Juan? You did not kill him.
How can you be so certain? Everyone in Rome suspects that I committed the crime.
Everyone.
Save you.
Why do you not accuse me? Oh, Cesare.
If you know something, Lucrezia, please, please, release my heart from torment.
I saw Juan that night, after you almost slit his throat.
He was very much alive.
Not cocky or confident.
Not even drunk.
Possessed.
I have once more stared death in the face.
So close this time that she could kiss my lips.
Lucrezia, my soul is weighed down by a millstone of sins.
When I die, I will live forever in the fires of hell.
What have you done, Brother? When I was 12, Father sent me to live in Spain with Pedro Luis.
Our mother allowed this to happen.
I was angry.
I hated Spain.
I hated Pedro Luis.
His strength, the love others showered upon him.
I knew that I would never advance in the world while he lived.
And so he died, Pedro Luis.
And Maria Enriques did not perish in childbirth.
While the ship was docked in Marseille, my man reached the captain, who strangled her for five ducats.
Do not fear the devil, Juan, for you are he.
No.
No, I try to be a better man but I get lost in the maze of my life.
I want to love, truly love, but, Lucrezia, you are the only one I will tell Pope Alexander.
You need not to.
At dawn, I will prostrate myself before him.
I will confess my crimes.
Beg for forgiveness, pray for salvation.
I did not want Juan to go to heaven.
You? You stabbed him nine times.
He would not die.
So you cut his throat.
Perotto is a soldier skilled in the ways of death.
Perotto even sliced a stirrup of Juan's horse to confuse people.
You are shocked that I am capable of murder? I tried to give myself to God, but he refused.
And am I not following the example of my father and brothers? Am I not a Borgia? Do not hate me.
I have a great many feelings towards you.
Hate is not one of them.
You have acted bravely.
More bravely than I.
In the Garden of Eden, Eve showed more courage than Adam.
When the serpent offered the forbidden fruit, she knew that there was something better than paradise.
The whole world whispers that you and I are lovers.
Should we prove them right? Make their lies true? Cesare.
Cesare.
Cesare.
Deception, even from you? Cesare, no.
A commission of reformation composed of Cardinals da Costa, Carafa, Pallavicini San Giorgio and myself.
Holiness, save me.
He who touches our gown has holy sanctuary.
Drop your sword.
I obey.
But he is a piece of lice.
Ask him what he has done.
Holiness, I have done nothing.
You lie No! To the Holy Father.
No! A son exists to glorify the life of his father, as meaningless and worthless as that life might be.
But if the boy is to become a man, he must glorify himself.
And make a name even greater than his father's.
A name that will shout throughout history.
I am Cesare Borgia.
There are all sorts of rumors.
Cesare murdered Juan, Goffredo did.
I heard Pedro Caldes has cut Juan's throat out of vengeance, after seeing Lucrezia and Juan in bed together.
Or did Lucrezia do the deed? Did she cut her brother's throat? And did Pedro, with some of his fellow soldiers, silent and loyal, carry the body across the river? We shall never know the whole truth.
And perhaps that is best.
And what of Pantisilea, who is missing? Oh, I heard that she has gone across the great sea to Tierra del Fuego.
She has been whipped to death.
The ancients had many gods, all cruel.
How wise of us to consolidate them into one supreme being.
And how foolish we are to love God, to love so deeply, something as brief and fragile as life.
This should be as it was, not as we wish it to be.
Bury the statue where it will never be found.