The Borgias Ep. 6, The French King - Recap

Pro tip: If a baby is made on the Table of Eternal Despair, NEVER LOOK IT IN THE EYE.

Pesaro Castle, AKA Casa di Sforza. Lucrezia sells Giovanni on a liniment that will allegedly heal his leg, though it will hurt. "Count again?" he asks. She giggles. "Yes, my lord." With a rag, she applies the goo - looks somewhat like olive paste - and in her sweetest voice she begins to count. He counts with her. And after Four, "And we are done." Single digits, just like Francesca promised. Talking of which, Francesca is standing by, and she and Lucrezia exchange satisfied glances. Giovanni curses his horse, guessing that a viper startled it. Lucrezia cautions him to count his blessings, for though he is confined to this tiny room, at least his leg is saved. He puts his kind face on and tells her she's been good to him while he's been laid up, and thus taught him that nobility "springs from the soul". And then he whizzes all over the kindness and sincerity of the last statement by proclaiming, "I forgive you the accident of your family name." Lucrezia swallows this latest gross insult, made all the more painful by his preceding kindess, and replies, "I must accept your forgiveness then, my lord, for the... accident... of my Borgia blood." And then, as further admission of the nice man lurking within, he offers her the full use of his horse. Lucrezia pretends to be impressed, all the while knowing that Paulo would hook her up regardless of whether Giovanni allowed it.

A white-haired ambassador for Naples conveys King Ferrante's regards to Rodrigo, Juan, and the assembled Cardinals. "King Ferrante can neither hear nor see, I believe," scoffs Juan, earning a smack from Rodrigo which resonates against his armour. In front of everyone. How embarrassing. The ambassador forges on with a suggestion that an independent Naples is a happy/loyal Naples, and on a completely unrelated note (not), he presents Ferrante's last unmarried daughter as a suitor for Rodrigo's son. "Sancia, Duchessa of Squillace," he proclaims. Juan asks where the hell is Squillace. "In the Kingdom of Naples," he replies unhelpfully, and reveals the portrait. It's very beautiful, and stylistically much better than Silvia's, though it doesn't look much at all like Emanuelle Chriqui. Which tells you a little something something about the general medium of painting in general. Juan and Rodrigo, though, are both taken and convinced. Juan even displays a wee hint of jealousy: "My younger brother Gioffre is all of thirteen years old." But according to the ambassador, they'd assumed the match was for the Duke of Gandia, also known as-- "Me!?" says Juan, before going off on a very fast and self-convincing rant about how such a match is beneath him, thankfully cut off by Rodrigo, who loudly asks the ambassador to please say nice things about him to King Ferrante. The ambassador, who looks mostly like Count Rugen, purses his lips, less than pleased. Well, for that matter, where the hell is Gandia, Juan?

Pretty green wood. Lucrezia rides Giovanni's black stallion full-saddled, Paulo next to her on a lovely chestnut thing. They have another weird riddling conversation that is an utter mix-and-match of their scheming sesh last week, re-establishing that the deer are happy, Lucrezia is "perhaps" happy, and no, Paulo, you won't be whipped, not for this at least, and probably not as a punishment. And then he shows her how to gallop without a whip and they gallop off into the distance and there's still no point to Paulo/Lucrezia scenes if no one's having sex sooo moving on.

Scheming room. Wow, Juan is still bitching. And Rodrigo is once again getting undressed by attendants. And guess what guys? Naples is important. Cesare gets another bitter line about how marriage for him is not an option. Everyone pokes at and fake-eats the food on the platter before them. Rodrigo finally throws his hands up and goes, "Let it be Gioffre, then!" I guess Giulia Farnese's disapproval is preferable to Juan's temper tantrum. Grossed-out but unsurprised, Cesare points out that Gioffre still plays with Lucrezia's dolls. Which I guess means there will be a Gioffre/Alfonso story arc in a later season. YAY! I declare my ship. Anyway, Rodrigo's not bothered by that, Lucrezia still plays with dolls and she got married. Ew. Ew. EW. EW. Bah. Wait, why haven't we seen that yet? I would much prefer a fucked-up playing-with-dolls scene than yet another Paulo/Lucrezia scene with no sex. But Juan is still staring at Sancia's painted face (i.e. titties) and generously offers to go to Naples and check her out in person. Cesare knows where he's going with that and rolls his eyes. Of course Cesare couldn't go; he's occupied in Rome. "So I've heard," smirks Juan, and Rodrigo laughs. It would be cute if there had been no murder involved. "What have you heard?" grumbles Cesare. "Only that under that Cardinal's skirt you might still be a man," says Juan as he playfully hitches up the hem of Cesare's robes with his sword. Rodrigo acts the parent and makes him back off.

Lucrezia and Paulo kneel by an idyllic little pond on a very pretty sound stage. Yet another scene pulled from The Big Book of Romantic Encounters That Don't Actually Happen. She coos some nonsense about Narcissus. Paulo can neither read nor write (which is weirdly endearing) so she tells him (and us) about the whole myth, and then instructs him to sit still while she leans forward and kisses his reflection. She then spends the rest of the week on the chamber pot as the microbes from the standing water are forced out of her body in explosive diarrhea, but we won't get to see that. So Paulo says it's impossible to kiss a reflection, which is his best pick-up line yet, and they kiss. WHEEE! I'd tell you where they're at on the Giulia Farnese Scale of Kissery, but once again, we didn't get to see that. Then Paulo spends the rest of the week on the chamber pot as the microbes on her lips are forced out of his body in explosive diarrhea. We might get to see that. By the way, remember when I called her wardrobe switch to red and black after her loss of innocence? She is wearing burgundy in this scene. I think that means I almost win.

Square. Ursula Bonaddddddddddd sorry, fell asleep. Ursula Bonadeo casts a hasty glance around and flips up her hood. She runs off to be boring somewhere else.

Ahhh shit. She ran off to be boring Chez Cesare. She swans around and dumps all over his decorating taste. Cesare's wearing a sweet black cloak that I bet swishes really well. She asks what she can call him, besides Cardinal. "Well," says Cesare, "If you're taking open suggestions, would you mind calling me 'Brother' in a sweet high voice? And do you mind terribly if I call you Lucrezia?" So they start makin' out. She keeps demanding reasons for why she's even here. Cesare's almost laughing at her even as he sweetly reassures her. She asks what he's after, heart or flesh (wow, that looks terrifying when I put it like that). "Uhhh... both?" he duh's. She smiles.

And elsewhere, their younger counterparts are GETTING IT ON in a very pretty wood around Pesaro. It's all very sweet and clothed and Lucrezia is framing it in romantic terms, and I think if she wasn't so above him in station (and if he weren't currently inside her) he would be a little more awkward and fretting about their relationship moving too fast and getting tied down. (Literally? Maybe. Heh.) Lucrezia insists on calling him Paulo the Groom. He somewhat pissedoffedly tells her he has a last name, but she literally says, "I don't want to hear it", and that she's going to call him Narcissus whether he likes it or not. He is charmed by this. Or her pussy. One of the two.

And now the older counterparts are getting it on, albeit in an actual realistic naked sort of way, and in a bed. I recognize the position from that pamphlet about safe sexual positions for old people in Off the Map! Ursula calmly says "Oh my God." Then she starts rambling on about how this makes her "hope". "Hope for whaaaat?" asks Cesare, mellow thoroughly harshed. And then she whines about how Nose Bonadeo is going to be home in two days. Cesare's like "Uhhhh... hey, remember how we were having sex? Let's keep doing that."

Juan and Rodrigo chat briefly about Naples and Defense and who honestly cares? We know. "The wolves are baring down on the Papal states," Rodrigo foreshadows. So? Fight fire with fire! Rome's got kind of a wolfish history, no? "And we would have a wedding," he sighs, "if only to see our dear Lucrezia again." Aww.

Juan and a convoy ride out to Naples, Juan at the lead, his horse cantering in the oddest most spastic way that makes me weep for Juan's duos testiculos et bene pendentes. He halts the entire procession for no reason other that to stare at the castle on the coast, and then continues along.

King Ferrante's dining room! The functional one, not the one housing the Table of Eternal Despair. Alfonso's voice rings clear across the dining room as he drawls, "Forgive me, Gonfalonieri Borgia, if I feed my father as we converse. He has so few pleasures left... BUT HE DOES LIKE HIS CHICKEN!!! Hee hee hee!" He spoons a bit of the aforementioned chicken into Bean Head's mouth. Alfonso's back! Yayyy! Never leave me again. "What a coincidence," says Juan unenthusiatically. "Chicken… is my brother Gioffre's favourite." Ah. Well, you tried. In response, Bean Head starts blowing raspberries and chicken is flying everywhere like confetti. The lovely Sancia is sitting to Juan's right, serene and enjoying herself. Alfonso makes some remark about Sancia feeding Gioffrey his chicken, i.e. Gioffre is a baby. Irked, Juan reminds him that Gioffre is thirteen whole years old. "And... soon to be a man," he rectifies. Sancia sweetly asks whether Gioffre is a bastard like herself. Juan uncomfortably assures everyone present that Rodrigo passed a motion that legitimized his children. And by the way, they do not appreciate that term. "Why not?" purrs Sancia. "I never minded it. I found it gave one a... certain license." Under the table, she strokes Juan's booted calf with her stocking-clad foot. Juan gulps and changes the subject to Gioffre's inheritance, which is he promises is going to be awesome. Sancia squeezes Juan's thigh. Alfonso leans across Bean Head's lap to tease her about her obvious crush on Juan. She sweetly assures him that as she is his bastard sister, "I will marry whomever I am told." So once everyone's clear on how stupendous this marriage is going to be, Alfonso starts getting serious, talking about the military benefits for their "poor, beleaguered kingdom". "My father's name was once enough to terrify them, perhaps your father's name should do the same?" Juan proudly declares he's been entrusted with all the Pope's battles. And with that, Alfonso LOSES HIS SHIT. He screeches and writhes with mirth and I fall even deeper in love. And Sancia can't help but giggle. Alphonso leans once more over Bean Head's lap and screeches, "ARE YOU NOT SCARED, DEAR SIS?" Sancia puts on her sexy baby face and purrs, "Oh, I fear; I fear, I fear." Alfonso suggests she take him on the grand tour. So it's no surprise when...

BAM. TABLE OF ETERNAL DESPAIR. Flies are buzzing. Corpses are corpsing. Sancia is circling around behind, letting her hand trail along the chair backs as though trying to impress them. "Clever," says Juan, mildly put off. "His reputation then preceded him," she explains. Her wording catches Juan's attention; reputations are something of a theme of Juan's story arc this episode. "As does your reputation precede you," he says, honestly this time. So if Ferrante's reputation inspired terror, what does hers inspire? "Lust," says Juan without hesitating. Sancia guesses it’s Juan's intention to "sample" Gioffre's betrothed as one might sample a male suitor. "Sample her, then," she commands. There's some hasty undoing of buckles, and feverish grabbing, and they consider doing it right then and there on the Table of Eternal Despair, but then they come to their senses and go off to do it somewhere clean and appropriate. That last sentence is a lie, obviously, but I'm trying to forget this scene ever happened. (Which is also a lie. It was awesome.)

Rodrigo is lying in bed, completely conked out. Giulia stares at him for a moment before rolling away and fidgeting around, unsatisfied. She starts to accuse him of finding the art of politics more compelling than... "The art of love?" Rodrigo interrupts. Crikey fuck, he's awake! He looked dead. Even she's surprised. But more affronted. "Did I say that?" He proposes that they have more in common and begins to compare her "most elegant leg" to Italian politics. But first, molestation! He shoves a hand up her cooch - she jumps - and calls it France, "the source of all this disquiet". Then he moves his hand down her leg, rattling off the other parts of Italy (thank you, writers, but we haven't forgotten, we're not as dumb as we look), notably the little bump under her knee as Rome, and Naples as her "elegant" calf, "exquisite" ankle, heel, sole, and "most delicious toes". So he bites them. Of course he does. The analogy works better than I expected; "When you try to stand," he says, all her balance will come from her below-knee area. "Naples," she hisses, in the same tone as one might whisper "Voldemort". "And now..." Rodrigo starts to trace a line of kisses up her leg. "I'm going to invade... fair France." And he shoves his face sideways into her ladybits. She reacts like it's some amazing head. But we all know she's faking, because, Rodrigo, you're doing it wrong. Her clitoris is not on her left hip.

France! Yay! Della Rovere rides into a fortress accompanied by a cartoony French soldier. Everything is blue and white and covered in fleur-de-lys. Soldiers test a line of cannons. Della Rovere seems impressed.

King Charles is sitting in his very pretty tent, scarfing some quick chicken (eeeeeverybody likes chicken). He's played by a short, pudgy man with a voice like a hybrid of André the Giant and Sascha Baron Coen's character in Talladega Nights. Della Rovere dives head-first into ass kissing, but King Charles cuts him off with "ENOUGH with the pleasantries." I like him already. I've been dying to say that all season. He cuts to the chase: Naples. Della Rovere sits and starts going over his rhetoric, but Charles cuts him off again. Della Rovere just stares at him, dumbstruck. Charles asks how he's going to put the crown of Naples "on this ugly head of mine. And it is exceedingly ugly, is it not?" Della Rovere tries, "Your Highness bears all the vigour of the French race in his person." Charles mocks him for being afraid to say it, and asks his general for his opinion. "I can hardly bear to gaze at it," the general cracks, and everyone but Dellaro laughs. And he basically threatens to hold the conversation hostage until Dellaro can speak plainly. It's kind of great, though I worry that the King has body dysmorphia. Della Rovere goes over his plan for the zillionth time. Charles asks why Borgia couldn't be the one to place the crown of Naples on "this ugly noggin." "Noggine?" says Della Rovere as if it's some alien french slang. "HEAD," Charles translates, and everyone laughs at our dear Dellaro. So naturally he starts to lose his patience. "Either way, you must get to Rome, and my countrymen are accustomed to the show of war." "OH LORD," says the exasperated king before shoving a metric fuckton of chicken into his ugly noggin.

Ursula and Cesare lie under Cesare's L-shaped sheets. It's fucking boring. Nose has been gone for too long, weeks, and Ursula's getting nervous and a bit suspicious. Without confessing, Cesare tries to either make her see it as a good thing or shut the hell up, and if he can kill two birds with one stone more's the better. If this is what she's always like I can see exactly zero reasons for Cesare's affection. Oh wait... one. One reason.

(It's sex. Sex is the reason.)

"War is oogly," proclaims short little Charles as they walk through the fortress, and he's finally convinced me that he himself is indeed very ugly. But ugly in a sweet endearing way, not ugly like Giovanni Sforza or Nose Bonadeo. "Far ooglier than I could evair be. One should approach it with extreme ceercomspection." "As one should approach you, perhaps," Dellaro deadpans. Charles likes it; he elbows Dellaro affectionately. And then he shows him his new cannon, laying his hands on it reverently. "If it works it will be truly... grisly." He's a freaking Bond villain! A loveable one thereof! "Chained cannonballs," he proclaims, in awe of his own genius. If they fire together, they will usher in a whole new era of grisliness. If not, the cannon explodes and they all die. "Would you like to give the signal?" Dellaro's down to meet his "most grisly end" if it means he gets to stop talking to the weird little warlord, so he obligingly gives the signal. Well, the balls fire, and they whiz around the testing field, slicing the heads neatly off the phalanx of straw men erected for this purpose before smashing through the fortress wall. "Impressive," Charles breathes and the wall collapses.

Pesaro. Francesca stands guard while Paulo climbs the stairs to Lucrezia's room. "Narcissus," she whispers when he enters. She sits back on the bed and tugs at her nightgown. He throws his shirt off and hops on top of her, adorable bumcrack showing. They start makin' out.

It wasn't until much later in the episode that I realized this little sound effect was supposed to resemble bedsprings. At one point I pressed pause and tried to figure out whose alarm clock was going off in my house. The squeaking wakes Giovanni, who grabs his cane and manages to shuffle out of his room. He pauses in front of the stairs, trying to figure out how to get up, when suddenly - Lolz! He's right next to the kitchen! "Butter, my lord," explains Francesca, who is working a churning machine much more efficient-looking than the pioneer butter-churners that I've always suspected do not acutally work and are a historical tall tale. Anyway, that's what's making the squeaking noise. Or covering for the squeaking noise. Guys, I don't know, it's one thing to hear my roommate's bedsprings in the next room through the wood and drywall, but from another floor of a stone castle? Whatever. Either way, Lucrezia lives to bang another night.

Awkward family dinner. Wee Gioffre presses Juan for details of his betrothed. Juan holds back at first. Cesare orders him to put Gioffre at ease and whips him with his napkin, although I think that's just because he always feels like hurting Juan. Anyway, Juan assures him that Sancia doesn't have horns. "Is she pretty?" Juan thinks for a moment. "No." "Is she kind?" "I know not." "Does she have any qualities to recommend her?" Whoa, Little Borgia's a bit of a stud! Juan lists them: two legs, two eyes, etc. Gioffre looks a little down and might be about to cry when he says, "I will only marry once, Mother." Cesare looks somber and pissy. It's really sad. Juan takes the moment to lift him and spin him around and assure him that she's not only pretty, but beautiful, an angel, etc, and Juan would marry her himself. He straightens militantly and asks, "Now do I have your permission?" "You may not, Juan, she is my betrothed," Gioffre responds authoritatively. It's really cute. Juan is actually wonderful to his younger siblings, which makes him a suitable deputy boyfriend for me, should Cesare be unable to fulfill his boyfriending duties. But Vanossa, sitting silently in the foreground, is very clearly not pleased. Nor is Cesare. Shit, my boyfriend's being kind of a downer this episode.

Two faceless men pull a gross grey corpse out of the Tiber. I KNOW THAT NOSE!

Later, over wine, Charles finally obeys his own orders and starts straight talking. Della Rovere assumes that a war in defense of Christendom would be just. Well, Della Rovere's an idiot, we all knew that and we've learned to love him despite. "No war is just. War is chaos. Brute force must turn against brute force until one side is destroyed utterly." Charles makes a mockery of the Italian fashion of war, what with its highly paid mercenaries on poncy horsies brushing up against each other until one side retires "with something called honour." But Charles knows what's up; honour doesn't really exist. He learned that against the English. "Be careful what you pray for, Cardinal. If you pray for war... you will find yourself in a place beyond prayer itself." Genius! Writers, you did it! Yay!

Juan cracks some non-joke to Vanossa about Augustine and marriage. Then the director tells him to go stand by the fireplace, which he obediently does. When Theo walks in, excited and happy, Juan is out of his eyeline, but the panicky way Vanossa says "Theo!" makes him look behind him, and without a word he starts for the door. Juan slams it shut before he can escape. He gives Theo basically the same treatment as Cesare, but less subtly, and when Theo offers to leave Juan backhands him to the ground. "This peasant's presence here means he thinks he's my father," he says spastically, and then he head-butts Theo into the table. Theo is bleeding hard-core. Then Juan punches Theo a million times and throws him to the floor. Vanossa screams and, when Juan pauses for a breath, she puts herself in between her son and Theo the dead horse. "What has this Papacy done to you?" she asks intensely. Theo wishes she could have her deep meaningful conversation after someone helps him to stop choking on his own teeth. "It has removed me forever from the likes of him," he almost cries. Theo staggers to his feet. Disgusted, Vanossa banishes him from her house. Finally. Juan leaves, and thus ends David Bamber's one day of shooting. Seriously, WHAT the FUCK is it between Juan and Cesare and Theo!? And how would Lucrezia react!? Because I have to think that scene would be as creepy or creepier!! If the writers intend the Theo thing to be nothing more than character development, they're throwing away a golden opportunity.

Church. Ursula sits with a veil over her face. Cesare joins her. This scene is stupid because it's the same old Ursula bullshit and it's also unrealistically in front of several of Cesare's colleagues. It's just dumb. Anyway, Nose has been found, Ursula's figured it out, she's pissed, Cesare's pissed, I'm pissed, we're all pissed. So Cesare finally confesses - or, if not to murder, to winning against him in a fight. Ursula dissolves into sobs. He brings up the dumb thing about how she ordered him to never put himself in harm's way. "I never knew you had such capabilities," she whimpers. "Is it murder to defend your mother's honour?" Well, only if you murder someone. And Ursula feels like an accomplice. She really wants a shower, but Cesare holds her back and makes her listen to his tired angsty crap. She falls for it. But she's getting she to a nunnery. "I will search you out. Like Abelard and Heloïse," he hollers, confirming once and for all to everyone that Ursula is a stand-in for Lucrezia. Cesare cries, which is cute, and François Arnaud is doing what he can with the given circumstances. Ursula sadfaces out of there.

"Are you out of your mind?" Apparently Vanossa's called Rodrigo to tell him their son's out of control. Juan's both embarrassed and angry, the worst combination. "You've heard the rumour, that one of us was sired by him and not by you, not by the Pope of Rome." "And you would feed those rumours?" Good one, Rodrigo. "I will not have him in her house!" Juan insists. Rodrigo thinks that's the best thing he's ever heard, Juan trying to control Vanossa's life. Especially after all he’s done to keep her reputation intact. And then he delivers the weirdest monologue ever to tell your kid: "You were bread to be a soldier. A general. A leader of men. Is that any way for a gonfalieri to behave? Brawling like a common soldier in your mother's home?" And, "Do you know what they say about you? What they whisper about you? That your brother would be more suited to your state. Would you have 'us' consider those thoughts?" Juan meekly makes him promise that he won't. Which he does, if Juan promises to shape up. Juan needs to hear one more time that he's Rodrigo's son. Rodrigo signs affectionately and says, very sincerely, "You are our son," which could either mean "Rodrigo's son," or "Rodrigo and Vanossa's son," and if it's the latter, it's incredibly sweet. "And no one else's." Beat. "Do not make ‘us’ regret that fact." Juan will not. And then he grits his teeth and asks how he can make it up. "Well, you can beg forgiveness from your mother," Rodrigo duhs. "And you can escort her to your brother Gioffre's wedding." A look passes between them, and it seems like a genuinely fond moment. Until Rodrigo slaps him across the face and hightails it out of there before Juan can slap him back.

Later, Rodrigo sleeps. Lucrezia lowers herself overtop of him and plants a sweet kiss on his nose. She strokes his face and whispers, "Papa?" Which is great, because "Papa" is the Italian and Latin word for Pope. He wakes to an awkward look-into-the-camera shot of Lucrezia, framed against the blue and gold vaulted ceiling, reminiscent of her position during that ghastly nightmare. Lucrezia is dressed like a woman, with her fur cape and her hair done up. "Oh, my love," Rodrigo sighs so happily, and she strokes his face tenderly. He wonders if it's a dream - and we know he has a bit of precedent for doing so. She tells him it's not, and he lies her down beside him, and they hug and kiss. It is so, so sweet. Actually. There's nothing sweeter than watching a parent reunite with their child after a long, hard absence, no matter the terrible shit they've done. And it's only when I remember who we're talking about and their terrible historical reputation for father-daughter incest that I remember I should feel grossed out. But I try to forget.

French fortress. Della Rovere cautions Charles that this Gioffre and Sancia thing is definitely happening, which means the investiture of Naples. "He is old, this Ferrante, and uglier than me," says Charles, utterly confused as to how that's even possible. I feel like he would laugh if I told him my pet name for Ferrante. Della Rovere assures him Juan is not (old, or ugly? Whatever) and it's time to move now. Charles goes off in search of more chicken.

Yay! warm and fuzzies! "Cesare," calls Lucrezia from outside. Cesare can't even believe his eyes, but in a real way, not in a lame-ass “do my eyes deceive me” way. He excuses himself from the Cardinal he's at present speaking with and runs to her.

Later, he presses her about her marriage. "It was hard, at first," she admits with some difficulty. "But then it grew sweeter." "I need details," he snaps. But Lucrezia seems to have grown a little bit wiser and psycho-er, because she seems to know what he wants, and outrightly refuses to give them to him.

Cesare asks where good old Giovanni is, anyway. "He fell off his horse. Foolish man." She finds the more confined a husband becomes, the more tolerable, and threatens to write a book about it. I won't bother doing the Wiki search to find out whether Lucrezia Borgia ever wrote such a book; I'll just assume she did. Everyone ok with that? Good. Holliday Grainger is killing it, making Lucrezia appear more mature in the act of evasion. She jumped from practically baby-talking two episodes ago to displaying more maturity than me in this episode, and the transformation didn't feel the least clumsy or inauthentic. She asks about Cesare, who says his heart was broken, "By a nun." Lucrezia immediately recalls Abelard and Heloïse, which makes Cesare smile. She says he could and should find her. "I intend to," says Cesare, suddenly hopeful. "How wonderful," says Lucrezia. "We can both write books."

Meanwhile, Ursula has bigger problems. A raspy old nun chops off her pretty blonde locks, talking about sacrificing her earthly beauty. But wouldn't you know it, as the hair falls away from her face, Ruta Gedmintas' real beauty emerges in a way I've never seen before, and suddenly I feel bad for all the crap I've slung at Ursula. It wasn't her fault. Ruta Gedmintas did what she could and did it better, I think, than anyone else could have.

In a different, less important chapel than the one in which Lucrezia was married, Sancia kneels to kiss Rodrigo's cowboy boot. Vanossa escorts Gioffre down the aisle, followed by pages rather than pretty ladies.

Ursula gets tied into her nun's habit. I've always had a weird fascination with nuns, but I don't think I've ever seen how the habit actually works. It's a 917 step process and it's fascinating (to me, and probably like two other people).

Sancia and Gioffre kneel before Juan and Cardinal Sforza. Juan holds his sword between them. I feel like wedding ceremonies back then were a very make-it-up-as-you-go-along affair.

"She's too beautiful," Lucrezia not-whispers to Cesare with an actual jealous look in her eye. "I hate her." Whoa. Cesare points out that Lucrezia being jealous of Sancia's beauty is hilarious in its stupidity. Lucrezia agrees to love her as well as hate her. So Sancia's gon' die.

Sancia obviously says "I Do", even as she wiggles and flirts with Sforza.

Lucrezia is of the mind that Gioffre deserves better than Naples. Not because Sancia's a bastard - Lucrezia is, unlike Juan, not completely paternity-obsessed and self-conscious. No, it's because she's heard of King Ferrante and thinks the whole kingdom a bit "oogly", to borrow a term from Charles. She gets the whole Naples affair; she's just not super excited about it, unlike everyone else on this show.

Gioffre finishes off his glass of (presumably warm) milk (damn you, whatever genius writer thought it up!) as he sits on his little bed in his little nightdress. He hands the glass off to one of his page boys (of which there are several in the room - aw, his playmates!) as Sancia, calling from another room, congratulates him on being the duke of Squillace. "Where is Squillace?" he asks sweetly. "I have no idea," says Sancia without changing her tone. Oh, I know! I Wiki'd it this morning! It's on the ball of the foot, if you will. Or, as Rodrigo would say, "the ball your immaculately perfect and rosy-smelling foot". She keeps talking about what she's heard of Squillace, but she's starting to sound laboured and panty. Gioffre checks himself out in the mirror, making sure the bows on his nighty are nice and shapely. He's tragically cute.

Oh, Sancia's been riding up and down on Juan's bene pendentes this whole time. Curious. Even in coitus, Juan makes her promise to be nice to Gioffre. "How nice?" They climax simultaneously. "That nice." She can do "that nice". And again, Juan does something nice for someone. It's getting to be a habit of his. I don't think Cesare's ever done anything nice for anyone.

Gioffre fixes his hair and nods at his pageboys, smiling nervously. Sancia kisses Juan goodbye and enters the room. The pageboys stand to greet her. "Goodnight, pages," she says all sweetly and motherly. "Unless you would all join us." Gioffre shakes his head. She looks a bit disappointed, or perhaps resigned. The pages bounce. Gioffre smiles at her. "Now, my husband, are you ready?" Gioffre's eyes bulge out of his head as we hear her rustling out of her robe, and then her nightgown. Little B scoots back against the pillows. It's really well acted, and directed, and pretty well-written despite the tragic misstep with the orgy joke, and FANTASTICALLY scored - this has been the only time all season where I was like, "Yes, music, you are the hero of this scene." (For another, similar example from a different show, please click here.)

France. A different type of consummation. It's nighttime, and it seems like they still haven't reached an agreement. It also seems like Charles has been doing his damnedest to talk Della Rovere out of it. He loves war more than a fat kid loves gâteau, but perhaps he feels it his duty to humanity to try and keep it from happening. Della Rovere is crumbling, but holding his ground. Finally, Charles gives in. "YOU WILL 'AVE YOUR WAR," he declares. "But it will be fought the French way." Dellaro is sick to his stomach. He gulps. Too late to back out now.

Credits.