The Serpent Queen Recap: Just Kill Edith

Ah, dear reader! Let me tell you, I am absolutely enchanted by this captivating tale of power struggles and political intrigue, set against the grand backdrop of 16th-century Europe. It’s as if the Borgias and the Tudors had a royal baby, and that offspring was raised on a steady diet of Shakespearean drama!


In this series, the timeline of history appears rather jumbled, doesn’t it? At least three significant historical figures are shown to be alive when they should have been long deceased. However, they seem to be socializing together as if this were a fictional story I wrote during tenth grade. I can suspend my disbelief, but please ensure no one spreads the misinformation that Charles V was alive in 1572, because he most definitely was not.

In the narrative, Catherine’s blossoming romance with Alessandro, Duke of Florence, doesn’t unfold in Italy as we anticipated due to her immediate return to France upon Hercule’s critical condition. Sadly, Hercule succumbs to his injuries, contrary to historical records indicating he had another dozen years left. This unexpected turn of events can be disheartening for those who know their history. It’s a reminder that life is unpredictable – anyone could meet an untimely end at any moment. Although the twist is intriguing and exciting, it’s important to clarify that Hercule died from malaria, not from being struck by a peasant’s stone.

In the context of the 16th century, Catherine’s grief is profound as Hercule is her most cherished child and she often dreams about broken eggs in a nest and a serpent, interpreting this as a sign that many of her children will perish so that she can achieve her ambition to wield power. In contrast, men from this era would likely react differently; if they had recurring egg-related dreams, they might think it was an indication to expand their flock by acquiring additional chickens. Should one of their sons pass away, they would have multiple children remaining, making such a loss seem insignificant in comparison.

If you were away from your home for just a brief moment, you’d return to find your child critically ill, someone you advised against imprisoned, and an unfavorable trade agreement signed without your consent. Charles claims he followed his instincts. But you think his instincts are misguided. Plus, there are rumors about him being interested in his sister, so you’re not feeling sympathetic towards him this week. Catherine is pushing for the release of the Duke of Guise, but Charles is angry and refuses. To make matters worse, she discovers that the Holy Roman Emperor is arriving, which she knows is to stir up trouble. Hasn’t her day been tough enough already?

In the meantime, Charles de Guise continues to interfere excessively and informs Anjou that the Catholic League admires him deeply; this is because Anjou had murdered a Protestant, leading to widespread celebrations among them, albeit by targeting their own Protestants. Anjou expresses his surprise, saying he thought they considered him an outcast, to which Charles retorts, “That was just last month.” Indeed, it seems like a clever jest. Now, Charles urges Anjou to rally troops and venture into the woods with the intention of eliminating the very peasants that François had attempted to eliminate earlier. He assures Anjou that the Holy Roman Emperor, also known as Rupert Everett, will undoubtedly support this strategy.

In this episode, Rupert Everett is playing cunningly by revealing Anjou and Charles’ secret plot to Catherine regarding Edith. He wishes for Edith to disappear rather than be martyred. Each character in the story has their own objectives that contradict one another, leading to turmoil, causing me immense stress.

It seems you’re discussing Rupert Everett, and his companion is Philip, not Philip II of Spain. The Philip you’re referring to in the show might be confused with Don Carlos, who was also a son of Philip II but had different circumstances – he had four great-grandparents instead of eight (quite extraordinary for royalty!), and there’s a tale about him making a shoemaker eat his shoes. Don Carlos seems more similar to the Philip in this series, as in one scene, he sets a maid on fire out of boredom (she survived). Philip II, on the other hand, was known for being rather unkind – he abandoned Mary, Elizabeth I’s half-sister, and later tried to court Elizabeth. Let’s focus our criticism, as usual, on the Tudors when discussing their deeds.

perhaps my dream isn’t foretelling the demise of nine of my children, leaving one alive, but rather, it’s a cautionary tale about how one rotten apple can spoil the entire bunch. Hearing this, I found myself contemplating the notion that maybe I need to eliminate the ‘bad apple,’ Anjou, which, if you ask me, is quite a leap, but then again, who am I to argue with the mysteries of the arcane?

Let’s take a moment to ponder over the fact that we’re halfway through the season, yet Rahima seems barely involved. I must admit, I’ve grown fond of the new Rahima. Why is her screen time limited to just a few lines per episode? Is it because Abis has more opportunities to discuss his devotion towards his apprentice, a bond that we didn’t witness develop and thus fail to appreciate? Last season was all about Catherine instructing Rahima. I’d love to see more of Rahima! More screen time for her, please!

As a historian who has spent years studying and researching the lives of powerful women throughout history, I must say that I am absolutely thrilled to see Elizabeth I portrayed so brilliantly on screen in this show. Minnie Driver’s performance is nothing short of exceptional, capturing the complexities and contradictions of Elizabeth’s character perfectly. It’s a far cry from the stereotypical depiction of women in power that we often see, where they are reduced to mere props or damsels in distress.

In a less conventional approach, Elizabeth persuades Louis to agree to an alliance pact without thoroughly reading it by unexpectedly entering his chambers and stripping in front of him. This scene would have undoubtedly caused discomfort for the conservative teenager I once was. Despite my strong beliefs about Elizabeth I’s virginity and my desire for her romantic entanglement with Robert Dudley, I never approved of such intimate advancements. As a gay woman in my thirties, my religious views have evolved to embrace more nuanced perspectives. This scene, however, still manages to be entertaining. Unfortunately, this is all the Elizabeth we’ll see for now, which is disappointing.

In summary, Alessandro arrives with a flirtatious demeanor towards his half-sister Catherine. I’m not promoting this; I’m simply stating the obvious. He gifts her a medal of their father’s patron saint, claiming it to be genuine, but Rahima later exposes him for lying about its origin, which he does not contest. Aabis attempts to poison Sister Edith, but Angelica intentionally prepares ineffective poison, ensuring no one is harmed. The response is typically, “Another miracle!” Another unexpected event: Catherine asks Margot to convince Charles (the king) to free the Duke of Guise from prison, and she suggests that his interest in you has always been unusual and you’ve encouraged it. This seems out of nowhere! Why is there such a focus on incest on this series?

Francois has been freed from prison, Anjou is confined at home, and Philip II met an unexpected kick from a horse that he was attempting to impale. In other words, things seem to be going well for the horse.

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2024-08-03 05:54