Prince of Foxes Page #2

know why I attacked you.

Get up.

On your feet.

Walk in front of me

toward the light.

Ah, a face like yours

shouldn't be hidden in the dark.

- It's beautiful.

- It's been called everything but that.

Oh, only by the unartistic.

Oh, there's-

there's design in your face.

A hundred twisted

curves and anles...

tortured into a pattern

of exquisite evil.

And you have beautiful

and artistic hands.

That face, those hands,

your voice and manner of speaking.

You are, of course,

of gentle birth.

What does my birth

got to do with you?

I like to know something

about the people I deal with.

Why rake over the past

of a hired assassin?

Because it may determine

our future.

Now tell me, who employed you

to assassinate me?

- I never sell my wares until I know the price.

- How much is your life worth?

- Why?

- 'Cause that's all I promise to pay.

Now you're unarmed

and I'm not squeamish.

Besides, you deserve to die.

Well, I'm, uh- I'm waiting

for a fresh topic of conversation.

Did I hear you say Duke d'Este

paid you to draw my blood?

- In advance.

- How much?

- You were expensive.

- They paid without bargaining?

Yes. You're distinctly

not wanted in Ferrara.

Do you know why?

I never cut a throat without knowing

whose it is or why I'm cutting it.

The mere idea of a marriage between

Alfonso d'Este and Lucrezia Borgia...

blisters their pride.

The lady's had too public a life.

Well, having lost you one employment,

I should find you another.

Your game?

It amuses me to think

of entering Ferrara...

the master of the man

who was hired to kill me.

Such insolence is stimulating. But have you

thought of what will happen to me?

The same thing that'll happen to me.

We live or die together. And I intend to live.

I'll bear your service while the bond lasts,

and warn you when I'm quitting.

Fair enough.

Let's to bed. We leave

in the early morning for Ferrara.

There's a fine inn at Crespino

with a beautiful kitchen.

Would Your Lordship wish

to spend the night there?

No. That's a prosperous

looking farm.

[Man Scoffs

Why shouldn't it be?

That's the widow Zoppo's farm.

Why do you turn down

your nose at it?

Ah, to answer that

would be really a story.

There was the father,

a blacksmith...

and his good wife,

Mona Maria.

They had a son who

was more than bright.

So, the poor, foolish parents

saved their money...

to send him to Padua

to study with the great masters.

Some six years ago,

he disappeared.

The next we heard, he had become

a bandit down south in the Regno.

- The father's dead, huh?

- Yes, almost two years. They say from a broken heart.

The old lady lives alone?

Yes, and keeps her thoughts

to herself.

Only the old woman and God

know how much gold she has hid away.

Every ducat of it stolen

by her bandit son.

Where does she hide her gold?

Who knows where an old woman

hides her gold?

In pots buried in the earth...

in sugar bowls,

under her bed, in her skirts.

Women can find

always places to confound a man.

They spend their lives

confoundin us.

We'll stop tonight

at Crespino.

Yes, Your Excellency.

[Do Barkin

[Barkin Continues

Who is it?

What do you want?

Keep out of my house!

- Andrea.

- Oh, Mammina.

My boy!

My boy, my boy, my boy.

Thank God

you've come home to me.

Let me look at you.

Let me-

My goodness,

just like a gentleman...

with a sword...

and real fur on his collar

and a red hat.

So beautiful.

No, you're the one who's beautiful.

You haven't changed a bit.

No, thanks to you.

For six years

I worry and wait and wait.

Mammina, you're not going to waste

our precious time scolding me.

- How soon must you go?

- Sunrise.

- [Barkin

- Oh, Furio. Stop it!

- Someone outside?

- Oh, no. Rabbits, mice, cats.

A widow's dog never rests.

- I know, Mammina.

- He had great hopes for you.

If only he could have waited.

I do well now, I assure you.

- [Barkin

- Quiet, Furio! Stop it.

Come, sit down.

Do all painters wear swords

and red hats?

I live by a different art now.

Yes. People call me

the mother of a bandit.

Perhaps they're riht.

But at least no common bandit. I work

for one who dreams of stealing all Italy.

His name is Cesare Borgia.

You devil.

Why didn't you tell me that before?

Because you would have taken the money

I sent you and come to Rome to see me.

- Are you ashamed of your mother?

- No, but you'd never have found me.

- Why not?

- Well, I have another name now.

Why?

Names are important, Mammina,

to open certain doors.

The one I took belongs

to the dead branch of a famous family.

What name?

I can't tell you that yet.

But it's brought me good luck.

I am at home

in many great palaces.

There's a title in the offin...

a great marriage, the founding

of a princely house.

What do you say to that?

When you, my son, Andrea Zoppo,

painted this Madonna...

you were depending on yourself

and the light God gave you.

Now, to be a grand signore,

you depend on sham and trickery.

Oh, Mammina,

you don't understand.

Times have changed.

A new world is being born.

Sham and trickery

are only weapons of policy.

We live or die, succeed

or fail, by only one law:

The end justifies the means.

- Holy Mother of God, forgive him this blasphemy.

- Mammina-

Stop him from following this sinful path,

even if you must wither his legs-

- Mammina.

- Or blind his eyes.

- Stop it! Stop it!

- Stop him even if you must-

Stop that idiotic nonsense,

or I swear I'll never come here again.

Nor do I want you

to come back...

unless it be as my true son,

Andrea Zoppo.

And I suppose you'll reject

the money I send you too.

I don't want your money.

- Forgive my son, Blessed Mother.

- [Barkin

[Alfonso

Note the reinforcin of the breach.

My lord father, I have offset

the softness of the bronze.

[Man

Your Grace.

One Messer Mario Belli requests

an audience with Your Lordship.

Bring him here.

Dismiss these men.

Return to the foundry. Go.

Go on back, all of you.

And you, Roberto.

This is a rare assassin.

You bring me news?

Come closer.

Who is the man

you bring with you?

It, uh-

It's a long story, my lord.

Then as to your mission,

answer a simple yes or no.

I have the honor to present

to Your Excellencies...

the lord Andrea rsini.

I am honored to be in

the presence of Your Excell-

Guards, arrest this man!

You-You will hang by

the heels for this!

I beg Your Lordship not to be offended

by Messer Belli's regrettable failure.

- You are impudent, sir!

- Shall we say "tolerant"?

You will not live to

return to your master.

One must be practical

about these things, Your Grace.

My lord Cesare's forces,

600 lancers, 10,000 foot...

are even now within strikin distance

of your peaceful duchy.

This is hardly the time for one

to murder his emissary...

even if he had thought

it necessary to send one...

for other than the most

affectionate of reasons.

My lord father,

this Messer Orsini has a rare spirit.

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