The Borgias (2011–2013): Season 2, Episode 2 - Paolo - full transcript

Previously on The Borgias...

Now is the time of reckoning.

Our task is of vengeance.

But you must know
by now, Cardinal.

Work with us.

Not against us.

We are family!

We are one!

And we will only
triumph as one!

We will have none of that;
You are brothers, after all.

Is His Holiness
lacking something?



Does my presence
no longer fill him with joy?

You're very young, beautiful.

You are more Eve than Adam.

We propose a celebration for
the entire populace of Rome.

Whatever the cost.

Let Rome be full of joy!

I gave my body to you.

I broke my marriage vows.

You bought those three
weeks with murder.

Admit it, Cardinal.

I will search you out.

You may find a nunnery but
you will never be free of me.

Tell me again, my love.
Who was his father?

A groom, Paolo.



Impossible loves;

They can become an addiction.

You fear for the constancy
of your lover's affections?

Don't do as I did.

Allow him his fancy.

Let him look both ways.

But be sure one of those
gazes falls on you.

[♪]

[♪]

Hey, hey, hey!

Good, good!

Excuse me, old man.

Which way is Rome?

Can you not smell it,
from here?

Does Rome smell?

It stinks.

What do you want in Rome?

I have a child there.

Pity the poor child, then.

Rome.

Good!

Hey.

Get on! Go on!

[♪]

[♪]

[♪]

[♪]

We had a dream.

We were a trinity upon
this bed last night.

What if there was no dream?

And we were three indeed.

Was it by our
invitation or by yours?

Our memory is...

I'm afraid it was
I, Your Holiness.

Shall I be whipped
for my of fence?

You should be bound and
whipped and ravaged.

When?

Often.

You may leave us, sisters.

Your Eminence. Your Eminence.

Sister Martha.

Cardinal.

You know what this is?

It is the fresco

you have so graciously
commissioned, Cardinal.

Of the founder of our order.

St. Cecelia, the
patron saint of music.

But it lacks a model.

Which is why I
have asked for you.

I am afraid I cannot.

And I am afraid you must.

I am the Abbey's
benefactor, after all.

St. Cecelia was
renowned for her beauty.

But St. Cecilia was
no nun, Your Eminence.

But if you would allow me...

You offend me, Cardinal!

Perhaps.

I am sorry for it.

But I would restore this
hair to what it was

before God snatched it from me.

Cardinal, please.

I know, I know. I blaspheme.

But it's for a higher purpose.

Can you restore her hair,
Pinturicchio?

Gladly.

And can you make
those lips live again?

From a throne to a Judas chair.

Who could have thought it?

Certainly not Prince Alfonso.

Did you revive him often?

Seven times, through
one long night.

Can you imagine pain, Doctor?

Pain such as this.

I imagine it hurts.

And enough of this sophistry.

Indeed.

To work.

Your Eminence.

You will die, Your Eminence,
if you eat nothing,

drink only rainwater!

I can trust only
the rain, Sister.

We cook our own food!

Who provides the grains?

The meat?

Is there no persuading
the Cardinal?

Perhaps a monkey...

A monkey?

A capuchin monkey.

Some bread sir?

You are looking for a
lady, young handsome man?

How did you know?

I imagine everyone
walking these streets

is looking for a lady.

What's her name?

Come on now.
She must have a name.

Lucrezia.

I know a few Lucrezias!

She is noble, my Lucrezia.

You saying I'm not noble?

I would not be
so bold, my lady.

Your lady? Right.

I am your lady.

And I'll find you
your Lucrezia.

Can you never rest?

Where do you sleep?

Under silk covers, last night.

No, on a normal night?

On a straw bed on
a studio floor.

So you know the
streets of Rome?

The slums, the tenements.

You live among
the common people?

I am one of them,
Your Holiness.

Not for long, I would hazard,
knowing your talents.

Does the Pope of Rome
not know his flock?

You have seen the gilded
cage we live within.

We meet princes and
potentates and prelates.

But very few of
the common people.

We might need your assistance.

Ah, Cardinal Sforza.

You have come to view our...

Roman treasures?

Etruscan, I would wager.

Ah, the cardinal is an
expert on such matters.

The cardinal has seen
Donatello's David

and marvelled at the
source of its eros.

Now he knows.

The cardinal thinks there
may be scandal perhaps?

The cardinal does not care.

What the cardinal
does care about

are the Vatican finances.

Ah, yes.

You will excuse us,
young maestro.

Maestro?
Well, assistant now, but he...

Oy.

This nice young man here
is looking for a Lucrezia.

Do we have any Lucrezias?

I'll be Lucrezia.

For a consideration.

Her name is Magdelena.

I am Lucrezia.

Oh, shut up, you trollop.

We'll all be Lucrezia for you.

Do we have a second name?

Borgia.

Lucrezia Borgia?

She'd cost more
than a shilling.

You do her a
disservice, my lady.

And I must consider this
conversation to be at an end.

You mean the pope's daughter?

I'd try the Vatican
if I were you.

The Vatican finances...

Are like Cardinal
Piccolomini's hair.

Getting thin?

Cardinal Piccolomini is bald.

But he had hair once.

And our beloved Vatican
had finances once.

But His Holiness's
celebrations have reduced them

to a state akin to baldness.

But you are the
vice chancellor.

Vatican finances are
your responsibility!

Do something about it!

We have hardly begun our task
for the renewal of Rome.

The restoration of its
historic monuments,

our transformation of
the lives and futures

of its common people.

What does His Holiness know of
the lives of the common people?

I would remind the
Cardinal that unlike him

we were born amongst them.

His Holiness's roots
were in Spain, I believe.

When he came here he was
already a great prelate.

So I would ask him again,

what does he know of the lives
of the common people of Rome?

Well, perhaps the cardinal
would be so kind one evening

as to walk us amongst them?

His Holiness must know
that that is impossible...

for either of us.

As, I'm sorry to say, is
this project of renewal.

Does the monkey have a name?

Let us call him...

Julius.

Julius Caesar.

Stop.

You mock me, fair lady.

If I did, forgive me...

kind sir.

My name is Paolo.

Beatrice.

I mistook you for a client.

A girl has to work.

Must you so debase yourself?

If I do not lift my
skirts, I'll starve.

Better to starve, surely.

What, like the rest of Rome?

They were fed yesterday.

But today they starve.

But there is such wealth
in evidence here, my lady.

How could anybody starve?

There is wealth, of course.

But we starve.

Whilst Lucrezia Borgia
dines on a silver plate.

With a fork.

You have heard
of a fork, Paolo?

No, my lady.

It is all the rage now.

And I'll bet Lucrezia
Borgia dines with a fork

of solid gold.

Your day of celebration, Holy
Father, was a great success.

Triumph.

The mob does need
bread and circuses.

The mob?

He means the people.

I mean the mob.

But isn't the mob
made up of people?

Is this a riddle, Holy Father?

Well, wouldn't you be
one of them

if you took away your titles,

Gonfaloniere, your dukedom,

your linens and your laces-
and your filigree codpiece?

It was a riddle. A bad one.

Well, riddle me this.

When Adam delved and Eve span,
who was then the gentleman?

There are distinctions, Father,

in the natural order of things

between the peasant
and the nobleman.

Between the stallion
and the mule.

Between us and
the common people?

Of course.

But we all have
an eternal soul.

Tell me,

if we were to go
out one evening

amongst the common people,

which of you, our family,
would guide us?

You would need
protection, Father.

The Pope cannot just
walk amongst that rabble

like one of them.

Why not? Our Saviour did.

Yes, but he was not the
pope, was he, Father?

You see, it was a riddle,
after all.

Ragazzi.

Be careful.

How can people live like this?

Because they have
no alternative.

That shoe's worth something!
Let her go!

Fancy shoe... fancy blade...

Go, go, go, go, go, go!

Who are you?

Alms, alms!

For the love of God!

To feed the infant!

That child is dead.

To bury the infant then!

A grave costs money,
even a pauper's grave!

Come!

Now, sir, sir!

The Roman emperors had their
faults, Your Holiness.

As do we.

But they kept order
on their streets...

and they provided
water for their people.

They built aqueducts,
they provided sanitation.

Yes, and now people
sleep in filth.

Pigeons everywhere.

Where do they come from,
these pigeons?

This was a bath house once,

dedicated to the
Goddess Sulis Minerva.

Now the orphans of Rome make
their bed amongst its ruins.

Among the rats and the pigeons?

Go on!

Did Rome once provide for them?

The pigeons?

No, Your Holiness. The orphans.

There is an entire
branch of the Curia

dedicated to charitable works.

But its bounty
never reaches them.

Well, we must see that it does.

Come.

All right.

We will have you,
Giulia Farnese,

go through their
curatorial accounts.

And ensure that
money for the poor

actually reaches the poor.

Three!

Will I have your
full authority?

You will.

And we shall set
ourselves another task.

To rid this city of its
infestation of pigeons.

More wine!

And then we'll see who will
be the most successful.

Hmm... Is this a challenge?

A wager.

Which is the greater task,
poverty or pigeons?

Four!

Now we will have two
solidus on number one.

One! And we win!

You must insist
the cardinal eats.

I will, sister.

He has a terror of food,
since the event.

But if little Julius
here deigns to eat,

the cardinal will
partake too...

I understand.

See him safe to the
monastery in Perugia.

The brothers will arrange
his passage to Rome.

God be with you, Your Eminence.

Cardinal Versucci.

Your Holiness.

Please.

You have been in charge of
the office of public works

for how many years?

As long as I have been
cardinal, Your Holiness.

Ah. Two decades, then.

After which time the orphans of
Rome find themselves destitute,

and the cardinal has built
himself how many palaces?

Three.

You see the irony there?

The poor will be always
with us, Your Holiness.

The poor. Like the pigeons.

I beg your pardon?
Your Holiness.

Does the cardinal believe that
pigeons will be always with us?

Is this a riddle?

We will have curatorial funds

used for their
declared purposes.

Money destined for the poor
should go to the poor!

So we will have you go through...

the last two decades
of your accounts

with one we have designated
to supervise them.

The Lady Giulia Farnese.

What Your Holiness
proposes is unthinkable!

What?

That monies destined for the
poor should go to the poor?

That a woman should have
access to curatorial accounts.

Can a woman not count?
Add, subtract?

Count her children, perhaps.

There is a new method,
Cardinal,

devised by the
Florentine bankers.

It is called double-entry
book keeping.

It proves a valuable tool in
tracing all missing funds.

So, the cardinal shall help
you in your efforts

to source those missing funds

while we shall attend
to another matter

of what is of some import.

Your Holiness.

Cardinal.

So, you say a
falcon eats pigeon?

When he can get one,
in his natural habitat,

What is his natural habitat?

The forest of Umbria,
Your Holiness.

Ah.

He should be in
paradise here in Rome.

Think he's hungry now?

Starving, Your Holiness.

Oh.

Well then.

Oh ho ho! Look it!

You must get me a
battalion of those birds.

These are dangerous
roads, Sister.

I have heard so.

But you have a
precious load there.

Why do you say so, sir?

To keep it so well hidden.

But then...

...you keep your
own beauty hidden.

Hey!

Forgive me, Sister.

Sometimes goodness needs
the help of a little badness.

Lord have mercy.

You can ply your sad trade
upon the Vatican steps?

There's no better
place, my love.

And a cleric's skirt is easier
to lift than a codpiece.

I have spent many profitable
hours beneath them.

Paolo?

Paolo!

However noisome this Roman air,

the Roman populace deserves
their glimpse of us.

They have a thousand
eyes, the mob,

and those eyes will
be fed, occasionally.

Will you make your wish
at Agatha's fountain?

Yes, Brother.

I would throw a coin in the
waters and say a prayer

for my little Giovanni.

On blessed Saint Agatha's Day.

I hate Saint Agatha's Day.

Stay close to me.

Go away.

[♪]

Let me hear your wish, Sis.

My wish is for the
fountain's ears alone, Juan.

Make your own.

Narcissus.

Lucrezia.

My God, what effrontery!

A peasant to a pope's daughter?

I should colour this
market with your blood!

Let him be! Let him be!

You know this commoner?

I do not.

Then I will cut out his
impertinent tongue.

Do not ruin this day
for me, dear brother.

Let the commoner
keep his tongue.

He may need it in the future
to explain his impertinence.

There will be more
impertinence?

No, my good lord.

And I beg your lady's
pardon for any of fence.

If there is anything I can do
to make good my of fence...

There may be.

Then, my lady,
I would hear of it.

Say a prayer by this fountain.

At midnight.

Midnight.

And beg forgiveness
of St. Agatha.

Now be gone, while you yet
have a tongue to speak with.

I beg pardon, my lord! Scatter!

Oh, thank you, kind father.

You look happy.

I have seen heaven.

I've seen it too.

From a different angle.

Was your heaven worth it?

Yes.

And if I understood her
rightly, I'll see her again.

Who?

Lucrezia.

My Heaven.

Oh Paolo. You just made me cry.

Please don't.

Unless they be tears
of happiness, of course.

Just promise me...

you'll be careful, huh?

You have your spies,
do you not?

Who told you that?

A spy, of course.

We would have our ear
to the ground in Naples.

Naples is unhealthy, Father.

So we have heard.

Prince Alfonso is
no longer with us.

That is tragic, indeed.

He would have made a good
match for your sister Lucrezia.

What's a prince
without a kingdom?

It will not always be thus.

King Charles cannot
remain in Naples forever.

Unless he wants to die
of the pestilence himself.

But if he does have plans to
leave that blessed kingdom,

we would be the
first to know of it.

Watch over him this
evening, Nurse.

May I?

Please.

I have business to attend to.

Certainly, my lady.

Was that was my coin?

How would I know?

Because there was a
wish attached to it.

My Paolo. Is it really you?

It is nobody else, my lady.

I have missed you so.

As I have missed you.

But you know, my love,
it is impossible.

Impossible.

Have you not yet
read your romances?

I know, I know.

You still cannot read.

It's a bit past her
bedtime, isn't it?

Oh hush, would you.

So why did you come?

To punish me with longing?

I would see my son.

It was a son, was it not?

It was.

A beautiful little boy.

I would see my
boy before I die.

Please, Paolo, do
not mention death.

For you may die,
if you stay in Rome.

Then I will not stay in Rome.

But if there is any kindness
in your Borgia blood,

you would let me see you
with my son before I leave.

Were you not whipped, Paolo?

My back was at your
husband's mercy.

Oh Lord.

Is that what it is like?

Love?

It must be.

I'll save myself
for business then.

One night.

If you promise me that
you will leave Rome.

Is Rome so deadly?

For innocents like you.

So promise me.

And meet me here
again tomorrow night.

I promise.

Oh, do I hear the rattle of
gold in your pocket, sir?

This coin is for the fountain.

It would find a
better home here.

Those lovers, do you know them?

That's the pope's daughter,
Lucrezia Borgia.

To so shame herself in public?

With whom?

Are you paying, sir?

Some country bumpkin.

Father of her bastard child.

You would earn more
of that gold coin?

Where should we go, kind sir?

Nowhere.

But I would have that bumpkin
followed day and night.

So I needn't lift
my skirt tonight?

No. Not tonight.

Is he sleeping, Nurse?

He did miss his mother.

Cesare.

You have a lover, Sis?

No, Brother.

But this child has a father.

A stable hand.

Who has come to Rome.

Ah.

Unwise.

You disapprove?

Not yet.

But I know those who would.

My father. Your brother.

My husband whipped him.
My brother would flay him.

Which is why you go out hooded.

At night. Like a phantom.

Cesare, he suffered for me
in absolute silence.

He would have died for me.

The least I can do
is let him see his child.

You loved him, Sis?

I did.

Perhaps I do.

Then you must see him.

You would help me?

Once.

And only once.

Just tell me what to do.

Find us a room.

Where we can spend one night
together away from prying eyes.

One night.

You promise.

I promise.

Go to our mother's house,
tomorrow evening.

She needs to see her
grandchild, does she not?

And?

Leave the rest to me.

You afraid, boy?

I was waiting.

I had hoped for someone...

One a lot prettier
than I, perhaps yes?

Perhaps.

Are you saying that
I'm not pretty?

I have killed for less.

But not tonight.

Come.

You are looking for your love.
Yes?

Then come.

What is your name, boy? Paolo.

Tell me about love, Paolo.

I know nothing of love.

Should I absent myself?

So my presence
doesn't implicate me?

In what, Mother?

A love that would
displease your father.

Is there such a thing?

No.

Your father is
the pope of love.

But I would keep this
tryst a secret, Mother.

Yes, I am aware.

Affections can be lethal
in this Rome of ours.

He has a right to see his son.

He does.

But only once.

Come, Mother.

Let us dine together.

Have you dismissed
the servants?

Of course.

Tell me.

Love.

What does it feel like?

It hurts.

Ah, like life.

Yes?

Like Micheletto.

My baby! Let me hold him.

Does he have a name? Giovanni.

Giovanni. Say "Papa."

He's the most beautiful
thing I've yet seen.

I feel sorriest for him.

This needs to be
our secret, Mother.

You know how I love secrets.

Four noble women, all from
the house of Castille.

So you would marry me to Spain?

Well, it would be quite
a natural alliance.

And Lucrezia?

Would you marry her again?

In time.

To a nobleman or a commoner?

What? A commoner?

Is that wine going
to your head?

Look, stop drinking for a
while and make a choice!

Sister slut.

Fuck off, whoever you are.

What are you,
uh-you're busy tonight?

Huh?

Yes.

But tonight I
keep my skirts on.

Pity.

No pity at all. It pays better.

What does?

Spying.

Makes a change from fucking.

Spying.

For who?

That gentleman there?

How did you know?

I read your mind.

Were you expecting visitors?

No.

I see you've found
your way home, Brother.

Home. Like a pigeon.

In your cups you
have forgotten,

your home is no longer here.

I would speak with my mother.

Of what?

Of a peasant from Pesaro.

Who's had his way
with our dear sister

and made his way to Rome.

To what purpose?

If she finds that dog
sniffing around our family,

I would have news of it.

She is sleeping, Juan.

And you are drunk.

Do you really want to
her to see you like this?

Tomorrow then.

Best tomorrow.

Was that an infant crying?

It was from my dovecote.

You loved those doves.

Yes. And you woke them.

Shame on you.

[♪]

[♪]

Do you love me, Brother?

I would kill for you.

But do you love me?

As I love myself.

Which, these days,
is not a lot.

You are observant.

But you love your family.

And your family name.

Borgia.

Borgia.

He must feed now.

And I must leave.

I wish it were different.

But, yes, you must.

And by the back door,
the back streets.

I would gladly
die for you both.

I know.

So go now, my love.

I would have you live.

I will write.

You know I cannot read.

Well, you must learn then.

Who walks with me?

I mean you no harm, kind sir,
whoever you may be.

Suicide.

A sin even the
pope can't forgive.

Because dead men can't
confess, can they?

Tell your tale to the river.

Sh, sh.

Yes.

Ah. Sh, sh.

Yes, sh, sh.

Yes.