The Borgias Ep. 5, The Borgias In Love - Recap

"LUCREZIA!! WHY ARE YOUR FEET SO GROTESQUELY TINY!??"

Open on Lucrezia in the bath again, in all her finery, pale and staring. Rodrigo kneels, horrified, weeping. Whoops, not in the bath - under the bath. Dead? He yanks her out. "What have I done? Will God ever forgive me?" She starts to rise, staring at him with pupil-less eyes. "God may forgive you, Father, but I never will." She's not, in fact, standing, but flying, rapturing, floating, and he caresses her tiny white feet as they rise past him. And methinks the most gruesome thing in this scene is those damn tiny feet. They are the feet of a child. Or a creepy wee doll. They're not right, is what I'm saying. Her hair is suddenly dry, and she stares down at him, judging him, holding her hands out like a saint, finally taking her place between the pair of painted angel wings in the ceiling. Dead and gone to heaven.

"LUCREZIA!" Rodrigo wakes in his bed, reaching for the ceiling and screaming. It's almost a punch line.

No, Lucrezia is very much alive, and not that much better off. She faces away from Sforza the Rapist, face all red. He wakes, looks her over, and sighs. She didn't snore, which he appreciates, but she wept, which he didn't, and he tells her that needs to stop. So of course she whimpers a bit. He takes a peek under the sheets and sees that she bled, confirming, to his utter shock, that she was, in fact, a virgin, and utterly rocking his perception of what their marriage was. He's being nicer this morning, which I appreciate, but he's not apologizing, which I don't. He starts to pull his pants on and talks some nonsense about her dowry, and then says her new name, "Lucrezia Borgia Sforza", which elicits a sob. "Do you hunt?" he asks, almost hopefully. I'm sure he does. She doesn't respond. He seems a tad disappointed at first, but then he realizes that they "need hardly see each other", except their marital duties, which will be kept brief and businesslike, he promises her. "My vagina is not a balance sheet," she doesn't say, and she bursts into tears anew when he closes the door behind him.

Rodrigo is sitting up in bed getting his forehead cooled by some manservant whose hand he slaps away. You guys, he's got the guilt sweats. He asks Cardinal Ascanio Sforza, standing by, whether he ever suffers from nightmares. He and his afro respond that their very life is a nightmare, keeping all the ecclesiastic bullshit away from Rodrigo. Apparently Rodrigo's nightmares suggest that Lucrezia's being "ill-used". Prophetic. Cardinal Sforza seems to think his cousin Giovanni lacks the Sforza vigour - oh, you mean the vigour you yourself demonstrate on a daily basis? - and that he will thus be "putty in her soft hand". Ew. Well, that cleared up Rodrigo's concerns. Back to politics. How about Duke Sforza of Milan? If he were to go against the Borgias, threatens Rodrigo, it would not go well for the Sforza family. It would be Sforza season and Rodrigo would be the hunter. Sforza asks if he's telling him all this as Vice Chancellor. "No," Rodrigo growls. "As a SFORZA." He chucks a sock at him to punctuate this last remark. Real mature, RoBo.

Vatican. Ursula Bonadeo hastily slips into the confessional that Cesare is currently manning. He gasps. "My eyes," he repeats from last week's brutal pick up line. He's really delighted and adorable about it, and asks why she couldn't pick a more "personable" venue for their clandestine meeting. Like a bedroom, perhaps. Just a thought. But Ursula is all business. Remember the "oh-no-he-didn't" with Nose Bonadeo last week? Yeah. Cesare's still all about kicking his ass, eventually, when his schedule will allow it. Ursula is here to stop him. He's a condottieri, a veteran, a brute, and he will kick his ass, because Cesare's "calling is the Church, not the sword." Ooh, Ursula, you unintentional bitch. You and Juan should do lunch. So why does she care so much for someone she hardly knows? "It is a puzzle," she says, and just starts spilling abut how she can't get him out of her head, boy his loving is all she thinks about. Cesare's like whoaaaa and goes back to the stupid bit about various body parts deceiving him, now it is his ears. Or something else. "Do my duos testiculos et bene pendentes deceive me?" Maybe. They press their faces up against the grate, panting, imagining a kiss. She asks him to promise her not to put himself in harm's way - remember that, kids - and her heart will be his. He begrudgingly agrees. She's decided that God put her with Nose Bonadeo and she will thus remain faithful to Nose Bonadeo, and then she bounces.

Later, having changed into his comfy clothes, he asks Vanossa whether she loved Rodrigo. Affirmative. "Can it be cured?" "No. It can be endured." Wise. So Cesare's met a woman who is married. He suffers. She suffers. I suffer. We all suffer. And if he could rid her of said husband, everything would be hunky-dory. Will he "step aside when asked?" You could buy him a farm... Vanossa knows what I'm thinking. "You could leave the Church," she says hopefully. "I double-dog-dare you."

Cesare rides through some very pretty woods up to an abbey, where Ursula Bonadeo is distributing bread and other crap such as. They ride off side-by-side, accompanied by two awkward gentlemen. He admits he found her because he's got people on her. She seems unperturbed. He points out that her husband's got spies on her too, the dudes keeping pace behind them. "You wanna take a step back?" Cesare doesn't say to them. "You're stepping on my dick." Anyway, she's not bothered. In fact, several things about Cesare make her happy, including the fact that he's a Cardinal. Bitch say WHAAAAAT? Well, she stammers, the fact that he's a cleric makes her hope he keeps his yummy manly hands to himself. He was thinking more along the lines of he would not be Cardinal for today. He threatens to put her heart in danger; in fear of its life, in fact, but not to harm it. The scenes ends with absolutely zero gratification to offer to us the viewers. Dammit.

Somewhere in Romagna, Lucrezia lies in bed, covers clamped over her like armour, waiting for Sforza the Rapist to come along and do what he does best. She hears him coming and starts to tremble.

Later in the bath, the blonde maid sponges her down. Lucrezia recoils from her touch, tender either on the outside or the inside, and I think both. She asks the maid's name. "Francesca." The writers cross off "Francesca" on their list of viable Italian names. Lucrezia asks her what she knows of marriage. Francesca admits "it should not be thus."

Back in Rome, Michelotto (yay! he got like two minutes last episode!) hands Cesare something that was retrieved from a confessional in Florence OMG WHAT COULD IT BE? Cesare lifts a filet knife out of the wrappings. "And it was not used for opening letters," he cracks. Michelotto agrees. "It was found impaled in the eye of a Mendicant friar." Why so calm, dumbass!? RUN! Cesare starts to snarl. "And who impaled him?" Michelotto tells him. "Can you do nothing right!?" growls Cesare. Hear hear, motherfucker. He shoves Mickey up against the grate behind them and points the bloody knife (letter-opener?) right at his left eye. "Blink once," he says, and he'll lose his eyes. I mean, I'm all for disciplining him, but for blinking? I think you have a strong enough case already. Michelotto pledges to serve him eyeless. No, Mick, what you're supposed to do is report him to the Better Business Bureau. Cesare's a little bovvered by the fact that they've apparently lost their target, but he's forgotten how creepy Michelotto can be. "Milan," he reveals Cesare begrudgingly lowers the knife. "You should wear a clown's hat," he spits. OH YES HE DID.

Scheming room. Cesare plays with the bloody knife while Juan struts around war-mongering. "To hell with Florence!" Eh, calm down. Florence is the shit. I spent a month there once. Best of my life. Anyway, Cesare thinks they have bigger fish to fry. Apocalyptic fish. "He would open the seven seals," grumbles Rodrigo, pushing the metaphor too far. Cesare agrees with me! "No, Father, let us not talk in metaphors. He would go to France, conspire with the French to invade us, arrange free passage of their armies through the Republic of Florence, the Duchy of Milan." Depose Rodrigo, march south to Naples, and Bob's your uncle. And since French armies are hardened from their long war with England - their Hundred Years' War, in fact - they're all pretty much fucked. Yeah, but the Milanese duke Ludovico Sforza is putty in our soft hands since Lucrezia's marriage, argues Juan. Cesare reminds him that Lucrezia's not being "brief and businesslike" with Ludovico Sforza. "They don't call him Il Moro for nothing." I would hazard that means "The Moor". Tad racist. Djem was a sweetie until you did your thing with him. "I hear he keeps his own cousin caged beneath his castle floors," exposits Juan. Cesare's point exactly. So Rodrigo decides to send someone to threaten Ludovico with his nephew's succession, and Cesare to Florence to tip the Medicis in their favour. He knows they've got a bit of a problem, and its name is Savonarola. "Perhaps we should offer them an excommunication and a public burning." No! Not Savonarola! You'll break poor Dellaro's heart!

Milan. Della Rovere exits the Versace boutique and heads into Ludovico's palace.

Ludovico Sforza is the dirtiest hairiest Sforza yet. He asks Della Rovere if he can think why "they" call him Il Moro. "Because of His Highness' dark complexion?" he smart-asses. "Because of my cunning," Ludovico corrects. Della Rovere asks what his "cunning" has to say to his proposal. Ludovico grabs Dellaro's neck fondly, rises, and starts strutting around the table, repeating Della Rovere's proposal for our benefit (even though I think we all get it for heaven's sake), at some point smacking some guy upside the head for no reason. As you do. Says Ludovico, everyone wants Naples, including his nephew, who thinks it part of his inheritance. He screams this last at a grate in the floor. Under the grate, a young guy, somehow clean-shaven, snaps to alertness, his chains rattling. See, this is what happens when everyone marries everybody else - everyone wants everybody else's shit. Ludovico tosses a gristly bone down the grate, which his nephew gnaws on. Della Rovere brings up the elephant in the room: there is a gross human rights violation going on right under the nose of a very important priest. "You're lucky this is before Amnesty International," Dellaro doesn't say. Ludovico shrugs and says he's only grounded until he comes to his senses. "WHO AM I?" he shouts. "You are Ludovico Sforza," the kid responds. "I AM NOT THE DUKE OF MILAN?" "That title is mine." So Ludovico pees on him. The kid cries but does not move out of the way. Dellaro watches it all somewhat impassively. As for the French army business? "Well, Cardinal, I will consider it. But first, we fight!" he declares as two inflatable Sumo wrestler suits are wheeled into the dining room. Kidding, but can't you just imagine?

Florence. Cesare's in full Renaissance bad boy attire. It's delicious, and it makes me sad that a few centuries later the tight pants and modest doublet will be replaced with hilarious puffy clown suits that are the opposite of sexy, before giving way to the tailored jacket that will eventually become the yawn-boring suit of which it seems we will never rid ourselves. He slips off his jaunty beret and heads for the Duomo.

SAVONAROLA'S EYE! NIGHTMAAAARE! I'm waiting for the artsy zoom out to his entire crazy face, but it doesn't come; we cut away from EYE to the crowd, looking guilty as he throws around "riches" this and "usary" that. A man whom I thought was Rodrigo but is actually Machiavelli moves through the crowd and places himself at Cesare's shoulder. "It was rumoured a Cardinal had graced Florence with his presence," he mutters. Cesare tries to keep his cool as he asks the man's name. "Niccolò Machiavelli, future adjective," he responds. Cesare observes that Savonarola's got a bit of a hate-boner for Florence. According to Machiavelli, he would see everyone sleeping on straw. I think Uncle Savonafester and I are in agreement about the garage sale. Cesare suggests that Pope Alexander might be of some help. "A conspiracy, then?" says Machiavelli. "More like an inquisition." Cesare follows Machiavelli out.

Later, Cesare subtly presses Machiavelli for information concerning Della Rovere's visit. Machiavelli concedes that there was a Friar found murdered, but the Cardinal in question claimed to be a man of peace. Who was planning a war, incidentally. Cesare reminds him that all clerics make those claims, which he, Cesare, plans to fulfill for the moment. "But I would hazard, if this Cardinal passed through Florence, he did more than... pinion a mendicant friar to a confessional door," Cesare hazards. Machiavelli's like "oh?" And they play Q&A for a while and it's a bit boring. Finally Machiavelli tells him, "He asked for nothing." "Nothing?" "Like, literally nothing. In fact, we're all planning to throw a huge party the night before any invasion, so you can bet we'll be too hung over the next day to do anything other than 'nothing'." But when Cesare asks him what exactly Florence told Della Rovere, he suddenly becomes secretive. Cesare plays his ace. "I could perhaps insure that, instead of your beautiful Florence, Friar Savonarola himself burns." Machiavelli nearly creams his tight pants. Finally Cesare gets Machiavelli to admit that they gave Della Rovere no response, and Machiavelli predicts it'll be an eventful few months. Is that a promise, writers? Because the series is now over half-finished, so you'd better get cracking.

Chez Sforza, the hot young groom washes himself while Lucrezia peeks. Good lass. The guy jumps a mile when he hears her. She mentions her husband is out hunting, and he immediately runs into the barn to "saddle up a horse so she can join him", which is Italian for "put on a shirt". "There is nothing your lady would like less," she says, smiling. She asks the groom about Sforza's hunting prowess - high, according to him - and muses that at least the deer's agony ends. Poor sweet thing. The groom's name is Paulo. The writers cross another name off their list and get a PA to google "Italian baby names" for future reference. His shirt is torn; she rubs the visible chest and offers to stitch it, before ordering him to call her Lucrezia. Which she will continue to do throughout the episode, to my intense annoyance. He repeats her name, giving it a delicious Italian lilt. Guys, he's hot. And he looks not unlike Djem.

Vatican. I guess it's another suitor parade, since the man speaking has a terrible haircut. He's a representative from Navarre, here to present a portrait of Princess Silvia for Juan's approval. Unfair, I think, since it was much funnier when we got to see Lucrezia's awkward suitors up close. But too bad for Juan, because Princess Silvia is UUUUUGLY.

Well, he seems to think so. To me, she's no uglier than any chinless lady in any Renaissance-era portrait I've ever seen. In fact, she looks a bit like Catherine of Aragon, who is not a historical uggo, and who was also by-the-by Spanish. Juan's got his "ew, yuckers" face on. Rodrigo is more diplomatic and spurs Juan to do the same. "Her reputation does precede her," he manages without projectile vomiting all over the portrait. The Spanish ambassadors bow and exit the room bent over and backwards, leaving the poor awkward chubby girl's portrait for further scrutiny.

Paulo gives Lucrezia a tour of the stables. It's cute, I guess, but boringly so, probably mostly because we know where this is going to end up and it will involve nudity. He introduces her to a lamed horse, called either "Diablo" or "Diavolo", who could formerly not be kept in the same stable as the Arab mare Fatima. "She can sleep well at night," says Lucrezia, stroking Fatima's nose. Eeeeverything is about you, isn't it, Lucrezia? (Actually, I guess it pretty much is. Sorry.) She asks to see his hands. I smell a fetishist in the making. "I would touch them." He obliges. They're soft. "Will they be hard someday?" "I know not, my lady." "Lucrezia." She start playing some cute Miss Mary Mack-like clapping game, of which Paulo knows at least the first verse. Then she entwines her fingers sexily into his.

Big room of portraits. Juan denounces all his suitors as ugly. He declares he'll marry none of them, "second-rate royalty" as they are. He overturns Silvia's portrait so he doesn't have to see her. Rude. "I'll marry a King's daughter, or nothing," he bitches. Then he brings up Gioffre. No! Leave my favourite wee Borgia alone! He continues that King Ferrante has an illegitimate daughter, Sancia. Sounds boring... wait, does this means we'll see more of Alfonso? Bring! Back! Alfonso! SANCIA! SANCIA! SANCIA! "Sancia," says Rodrigo, taking up my chant. A union between Juan and Sancia could have some benefits, he muses as some dude undresses him. Jeremy Irons spends half his time on this show getting undressed, and not even sexily. "Are you deaf, Father?" Juan snaps. "She's the half-bred bastard of an ailing dodderer, let Gioffre marry her!" Real nice, Steve Perry. He threatens to "take his pleasures where he finds them" and leaves to go be a dick somewhere else. Rodrigo waves him out of the room, annoyed but not nearly annoyed enough.

Rodrigo bursts into Cardinal Sforza's bedroom, where the good Cardinal is taking his own pleasures. "My cousin was just leaving, he says, his hair all hilarious and his "cousin" in her slip. "Gabriella Visconti, Your Holiness," she says, taking Rodrigo's hand and kneeling. "Twice removed," says Sforza by way of excuse. "Well, we would hope more than twice," says Rodrigo hilariously. Anyway, he's here to discuss yet another Sforza cousin. Gabriella Visconti leaves. Della Rovere rides to Milan, says Rodrigo. He's already there, sucker! The long and the short of it is that he wants Cardinal Sforza to go to his cousin and inform him that the Vatican would put his urine-soaked nephew on the throne if he doesn't support them in their pursuit of staying alive.

Again, Francesca sponges Lucrezia down. Lucrezia asks how old Francesca's fiancé is. Only 9 months older than her. Lucky girl. By the way, let's all hedge our bets on the identity of her fiancé. My money's on Paulo. Oh, everyone's money is on Paulo? Except Lucrezia's? Oh, poor girl. Actually, poor Francesca, Bitch is gonna die. But for now, they're still talking about sex, so hush up. No, Giovanni does not beat her; he thrusts. Well, yeah. She counted 27 last night, 32 the night before. "Already more bearable," says Francesca. I'll say. That's only like a minute, tops... of rape. Never mind. Francesca advises her to quicken his pleasure. She promises her that she could reduce it to the single digits. And she gives Lucrezia some stupid advice about counting sheep, and they giggle. WHAT THE HELL, SHOW? First you cheat me out of the comprehensive kiss rundown, and now you spare me a tutorial on how to give my vadge magical powers!? Go to hell.

Rodrigo sits in his night shirt while Giulia Farnese (Yay! I've missed her!) strokes his... ear? I never know with these two. He asks if Sancia of Naples is beautiful; yes, in a Neapolitan way. "Dark. Sicilian, almost Moorish." Well, people seem to like Sofia Loren. And her temper is Sicilian too, whatever that mean. Coppola, what does that mean? Never mind. I can guess. So what does she think of her as a match for Juan? "A match made in... wherever such matches are made."  The match, says Rodrigo, is not for Juan, because fucking Juan always gets his own fucking way. "Cesare? Now that would be..." looks like she's about to say something favourable, but Rodrigo cuts her off. "For Gioffre." "Good God," she breathes. Yeah. Rodrigo starts undoing her robe. "Will you never stop?" she asks, referring to either sex or the marrying-off. "You are going to ensnare the whole of Europe with your progeny." Rodrigo, please see above re: what happens when everyone marries everybody else - you end up in a Rancor cage getting peed on.

Aerobics class. Lucrezia counts out the reps - "Five! Six! Seven!" Kidding. Mostly. It's not aerobics class. It's thrusting time. She's screaming, but mostly in pain, and when Giovanni asks what the hell she's doing, she almost cheerily says, "I am counting, my lord!" He orders silence, which I can almost understand, but then he flips her over and starts taking her from behind, her head slamming against the headboard, because he's the worst. Francesca and Paulo (the Betrothed, I still maintain) listen at the door all pitying. Paulo asks if Lucrezia's sleeping better. "I truly hope so," says Francesca, and walks away.

Milan. Cardinal Sforza is paying a visit to his cousin Ludovico. Ludovico plays the "we're family" card. Ascanio points out that the same card works for his nephew Gian Galeazzo (cage kid). Hey, fun Wikipedia fact: Ludovico's mother Bona was a character in Shakespeare's Henry VI; she was rumoured to be engaged to King Edward, Richard III's brother, who actually married Elizabeth Woodville, who is awesome in Shakespeare's Richard III but I just finished a Philippa Gregory about Elizabeth Woodville called The White Queen and it was terrible. Um. Where were we. "His Holiness does not threaten; His Holiness merely [MERELY!] reminds the Duke of where his best interests lie." Ludovico quickly loses patience. He rips off Ludovico's red cap and shoves him down against the grate, showing Gian Galeazzo his "champion". Then he shoves the keys up against Sforza's throat and mock-jovially insists that he release the Rancor. I mean Gian Galeazzo. He will dine with them tonight! "What is it you most hunger for!?" "Freedom," says the kid, starting off strong. "And pheasant." Well, you tried. Ludovico enthusiastically kisses Ascanio on the top of his head. "Freedom and pheasant it is." "This is so undignified," thinks His Questionable Eminence. He obligingly unlocks the cage.

Later, standing next to the open grate, Sforzas Ascanio and Ludovico watch Gian Galeazzo wolf a pheasant. He finishes and demands another. "Have mine," says Ludovico happily. This will not end well. Ludovico starts spelling out a very specific threat for Ascanio to pass onto the Pope, something about dirty Spaniard marrying his bastard to a Sforza dot dot dot... and Gian Galeazzo starts to choke. Ascanio's a little paranoid; he immediately runs to him, not to Heimlich him but to squeeze his hand as if to deliver last rites. Ludovico grabs the Cardinal from behind and starts to wrestle him back. Ascanio fights to keep a hold on the kid's hand. His concern would be sweet, but methinks he's mostly worried about his bargaining chip. Blood slides over Gian Galeazzo's bottom lip and into Ascanio's hand. "Poison," he whispers. "Gluttony, more like," says Ludovico, and I believe him. "Duke for an hour, undone by his table manners."

Cesare happens upon yawn-inducing Ursula buying bread in a market. He comments on her lack of servants. She prefers to distribute alms on her own. There are many hungry people, apparently, at St. Cecelia's. Cesare does not express embarrassment on behalf of the Church, which makes me like him less. They act boring some more, and then he notices a bruise under her veil. She tells him not to think about it; it's in her shitty husband's nature. "Forget him, and forget me." Yes, forget her. She sucks. She'd better reveal a sick fetish sooner rather than later. Cesare listens to neither Ursula nor me and pulls her behind a pillar. Apparently the grooms that were with her that day blabbed all over the place. Well, no fucking shit, Sherlocks. Cesare begs her to free herself. They almost kiss. She annoyingly interrupts that with, "He rides to Ostia tomorrow night. For two days I will be free." Oh, so we have to wait until tomorrow night? Thanks, show. For nothing. At least she hyperventilates sexily. She rewards me by planting a kiss on him, "a kiss of pleasure," according to Giulia Farnese from last episode, and runs off.

Later, Cesare skulks under an aqueduct or something like it. Michelotto slouches up to him, bearing two swords that Cesare requested. I guess the only thing smarter than firing Michelotto, at this point, is not firing Michelotto. Cesare kicks off a little role-play, asking Michelotto to call him "Borgia", and he will refer to Mick as "baron". And here's the kicker: he is keeping his promise to Ursula to not get into harm's way by getting really really really good at fencing. He throws one of his swords off to the side, so he and Mick are 1 vs 1, and orders him, "Put me in harms way." So they fight, and all I'll say about that is that the fencing choreography on this show is pretty excellent. "One blade is never enough," Michelotto counsels after beating him like a million times.

Lucrezia rides sidesaddle through a pretty green wood, Paulo leading the horse. They talk about Giovanni's hunting habits and it's boring. She whines that, unlike the deer, she suffers "nightly"; and I know she's well within her rights to whine, but Lucrezia's always on the brink between endearing and annoying, and unfortunately this scene she's favouring the latter. Anyway, Paulo's all affronted, says it's a crime against her beauty, which bothers me a bit - if she were ugly, should she be grateful? Agh. Whatever. Context. More realistically, how can the Pope stand it? "He doesn't know." "If I could write, I would send him a letter," Paulo promises sweetly. Then Lucrezia sees her shining opportunity. She coyly asks if she's beautiful. He obviously answers in the affirmative. She orders him to help her down. He does. Then, out of nowhere, "I could adjust his saddle." Lucrezia immediately knows where he's going with that. "He would fall," she purrs. "He would break. He would return home, tamed." "Broken," he agrees. And according to Paulo, he would never die from a fall. Also according to Paulo, Lucrezia would never rat him out or have him whipped. Also according to Paulo, SCHWING!

Rodrigo debriefs Cesare on the happenings of Cardinal Sforza's visit. Basically, Della Rovere's got the upper hand there; they're down to relying on Florence, who could hardly stand alone. So it might be time to give Naples what they want. "An alliance?" "Better than that. A WEDDING! Drinks all around!" Exasperated but half-hopeful, Cesare asks who's going to be the sacrificial lamb this time - him? Rodrigo laughs. Although I guess it's getting easy to brush off Cesare's bad moods, since they come and go like clouds.

Lucrezia's counting again. Long extended shot of the contents of a table while a very out-of-focus Giovanni rams Lucrezia in the background. Body doubles? Methinks. Holliday Grainger is much older than 14, yes, but Ronan Vibert is still twice her age.

Stable. Paulo fucks around with the saddle.

Courtyard. Giovanni gets lifted into the faulty saddle and rides out. Paulo watches him go, very satisfied.

Outside Casa Bonadeo, where it is absolutely pissing rain, Nose Bonadeo orders the guard to admit none of his wife's visitors in his absence while Ursula stands five feet away in the doorway, well within earshot. Cesare and Michelotto hide out under a bridge. Michelotto offers to deal with Bonadeo himself. "Did he insult your mother?" asks Cesare almost conversationally. He refuses to let MIchelotto be his wingman. Then they stride off.

Sforza's black horse re-enters the house riderless and drinks from a basin. Upstairs, Francesca enters Lucrezia's room, smirking. "An accident, my lady. The Lord Sforza." Lucrezia smirks in kind.

Cesare strides out into the middle of the road (without looking both ways, may I add) and rips his hood off. He is wet and thus I am happy. Bonadeo pulls back his horse. They exchange barbs for a bit, and Bonadeo is seriously way too hung up on Vanossa's CV. Cesare easily takes him down from the horse. They fight wildly and crazily for a bit, and then Cesare stabs him in the neck with a second blade. And there's a while where it looks like he got him with his previously unseen hook hand, but thankfully (or sadly) that's just an optical illusion. And Bonadeo’s nose sits like a Great Pyramid on his face.To the corpse, Cesare proclaims that his wife prayed for liberation, and then Latins something that I think means "ask and you shall receive" or something similar. Michelotto runs onto the scene and gets Cesare to help him lift the body. "You never forget your first," he says semi-fondly. Cesare's still in a bit of shock: "I felt the life go from him." "Better him than you." Sometimes Michelotto is wise. And then he assures Cesare that he was never in harm's way.

NASTY COMPOUND FRACTURE! EW! It is a break, says the "doctor", but Giovanni will survive it, which was the plan. Il Dottore calls for a splint, some water, bandages, a catheter, an IV drip, and a piece of wood to jam in his mouth (two of those items might be wishful thinking on my part). Lucrezia runs in all sweet- and concerned-like. Francesca shoves a wooden spoon between his teeth. It's funny. "On the count of three," orders Il Dottore, and Lucrezia obligingly counts "One... two... three." Not counting sheep, though. If all goes well, she won't have to do that for a long, long time. He sets the leg with a crack. Lucrezia surveys the damage, her sweetness mostly gone. She and Francesca exchange awesome evil lady smirks.

They're still hauling the body through the rain, and Michelotto's still complementing Chezz on the exceptional kill. Michelotto's kind of awesome and capable when he's acting out his own plan. The plan of others', not so much. Will Cesare keep that in mind? No. No he won't. Cesare asks, "Will I be thanked?" Negative, predicts Michelotto, but "the river will be greatful for him. It loves a skewered corpse." They kick the body into the Tiber. Cesare watches it go.

Credits.