All language subtitles for Les.Rois.Maudits.1972.S01E05.PAL.DVDRip.AC3.x264

THE ACCURSED KINGS

By MAURICE DRUON
From THE FRENCH ACADEMY

Translated and adapted by
selaflaure (selaflaure@gmail.com)

THE SHE-WOLF OF FRANCE

Directed by:
CLAUDE BARMA

Oh, yes. Here we are in England.

Messire of Bouville was sent
as messenger

by the king Charles,

our king.

Yes, Charles.

And Philippe, you would say?

The 5th, the one called "The Long",

and who just sat
on the throne of France?

He's dead.
After 5 years of pale reign.

Dead, after 5 years of hard lines,

dead because he drank
the kingdom's water.

Three weeks after his coronation,

the famine filled the cities
with corpses,

and then a wind of madness
blew over France.

Predicted by the Templars surviving
the red-hot iron and boots,

thousands and thousands of girls
and boys from the countryside

were on the road together.

At each crossroad
their ranks thickened

with defrocked priests,
monks without faith,

with rogues, thieves, beggars,

and whores.

With a cross on the forehead,

they went to mysterious encounters
that they never reached.

Boys and girls indulged
in the worst promiscuity.

Entering a city
to ask for alms,

they quickly ended up
by submitting it to robbery.

They were called
"the little shepherds".

Over a year they ravaged France
from North to South.

And as they wanted more victims,
they butchered the Jews.

First they were applauded,

then killed,

in the swamps of Aigues-Mortes,
by thousands,

beaten, pierced,
buried alive, drowned.

The earth of France
was drinking its own blood,

swallowing his own youth.

Once the little shepherds fever
appeased, came the lepers' one.

They were blamed for infesting the
waters, and, becoming public enemies,

they were exterminated.

Not to upset anyone, the Jews
survivors were massacred as well.

Then it was
the turn of the king to die.

7 months he kept his bed
until he quenched,

in the greatest pains.

The curse launched from his stake
by the Grand Master of the Templars

continued to roll over France.

Fate got down kings
as chess pieces.

Now it's Isabella's turn,

daughter of the King of Iron
and sister of Charles 4th of France,

which seems to have led the curse
across the Channel.

Humiliated as a woman,
scorned as a queen,

trembling for her life, the She-Wolf
of France dreamt of vengeance.

Her husband, Edward, a frivolous king,
disappointing, incapable,

enslaved to the love he's
feeling for his favorite,

Hugh Dispenser;

his wife, Lady Eleonore,

who was imposed to the Queen
as an escort.

As up to Messire of Bouville,
who came to seek alliance and marriage

in the name of Charles of Valois
for his daughter,

he made a bad shot.
A very bad one.

Take a good look
at the great barons of England.

Lancaster, nicknamed Twisted Neck,

Kent, the king Edward II's brother,

take a good look at them.

They're full of hate,
but still quiet.

Everything will change soon,

when they'll find out what happened
this 1st of August, 1324,

in the Tower of London.

He traps ravens.
He's only doing that for 18 months.

Beware, Edward, beware!

Sooner or later
I'll still strangle you!

As much as I am of
Roger Mortimer,

8th baron of Wigmore!

As much as I am Mortimer
of Chirk, we are nothing,

you're no longer anybody!

You should either win the battle
of Shrewsbury, or die,

not to fall into Edward's claws!

When you rise against
your king, you need...

you need to go up to
the extreme end of the path.

I'll go.

Nobody escapes
the Tower of London, boy!

Nobody, not tonight,

- not ever!
- Yes, uncle, unless...

- You decided not to join me?
- I should have never listen to you.

Thomas Lancaster and you,
when you took the weapons.

Today, Thomas lost his head
on the scaffold,

and look where we are.

Exactly, we should not
stay here anymore!

- My legs... they no longer hold me.
- I will carry you!

Beyond the walls? And in water,
because I cannot swim?

What do you figure?
Do you think all England loves you?

That everybody work for you?

Nobody will raise a hand to help,

not even Bishop Orleton,
who's your faithful friend,

and the queen even less.

I forbid you
to doubt the queen!

You're still a child! You still believe
in the human feelings!

Tonight, you'll see,

nobody will come!

- It'll be tonight.
- And Alspaye?...

He will leave with you.

- The Bishop?
- Will wait outside, at dusk.

Get ready, uncle!

Our friend Alspaye
was done well.

The guards are falling
one after another.

One might really say
that the Tower is dead.

- It's you, Alspaye?
- Yes, sir.

Uncle, wake up!
It is time.

I haven't got the key! The bishop's
dust, mixed in wine, made wonders.

Even too much. Our jailer
fell asleep at once,

and I couldn't find the keychain!
I've looked everywhere!

- But where is Ogle, the bearded man?
- With me.

Send it to bring a mace!
And break the door!

No!

Go alone!
Yes! Yes, I need you to run!

Avenge us, Roger!

- My Lord Mortimer!
- Monseigneur the bishop!

I owe you so much! And first, my life!

First be sure to arrive in France,
and then you could thank me.

Horses are waiting for us on the other
side, and a boat's waiting near Dover.

- Coming with me, Monseigneur?
- No. A run is a confess.

As soon as you will embark,
I'll return to my diocese.

- But the king?
- King hates me,

- but would not dare to touch me.
- But the queen?

Is she still tormented?

The queen wants your well.

She brought me what I must give you
so that you can live in France.

Look, my lord,

the moon,

good for lovers,
dangerous for the runners. Come.

Have you heard the news, Madame?

Surely you will like it...

Your Mortimer escaped from the Tower!

It's not my Mortimer, sire.

Lord Wigmore is your subject,
more, I think, than mine,

and I give no notice
of your barons acts.

But let your joy show, lady!

Since this Mortimer dared
to come to my court,

you have had eyes for him only!

Not a day passed without
you praising his merits,

- the nobility of his soul!
- I would not have loved him

but out of love for you!

Hasn't he conquered in your place, and
at the risk of his life,

the kingdom of Ireland?

Which you seemed keeping it
very hardly without him?

Well, he's now running, your friend!

He's running, undoubtedly,
to your country!

Isn't enough the trouble I have?

Scots invade
incessantly my kingdom,

my armies run off,

among my vassals I have
but traitors!

But it was clear,

wasn't it, Lancaster?

it was clear at Shrewsbury,
at Boroughbridge,

how much it costs
to revolt against me!

It seems, indeed,
sire, my husband,

that the only battles
you could win

were those against
your own barons.

Where are my allies?

Your brother in France, madam,

which should act as my brother,
what help is he bringing me?

He asks me to go to pay homage
for Aquitaine, that's his help.

And where he sends me the order?

In Guyana?
No!

Here, in my kingdom, in contempt
of all our feudal customs,

to offend me!

You might think that he's also
pretending to be suzerain of England?

First I paid him that homage.

I've paid him dearly.

First your father,
when I was a closed shave to be fried

in the fire at Maubuisson,

and then your brother Philippe,

three years ago,

when I went to Amiens.

This way, Madame, in the rhythm
the kings die in your family,

I will have to move soon
on the other side of the Channel!

Messire of Bouville,

you'll transmit to Mr. of Valois
that the union he proposed,

between his first born daughter
from his third marriage,

and my son, the Prince of Wales,

certainly will not occur.

I appreciate, of course,
the whole honor,

but we have other intentions
for our oldest son.

So we put an end
to this reprehensible custom

who wants that the kings of England
take a wife from France,

without ever being
of any service to them.

When a man hates his wife
it's normal to blame everything on her.

All my tower guards,
dead drunk,

my lieutenant
running with this outlaw,

and my constable
dead from drug swallowed!

Your Seagrave is guilty!
Guilty of negligence!

Guilty of being fooled!

- Sire...
- No!

Do not tell me it's bad luck!

Misfortune is a sin
I do not forgive!

Winchester?

Sire?

Seagrave will replace lord of Wigmore

in prison.

Thus, his successors will take care
to guard better.

Behold, my son, how to govern.

The one who defies you way out, Sire,

is the other villain,
this Bishop Orleton,

the one who set it up,
and thereafter,

came back very happy in his diocese.

Certainly,
he very little fears you

I notify you, my lords,

that bishop Orleton will be brought
before my parliament

to be tried and convicted.

He's a man of science
and a big heart, cousin.

Maybe you could today,
just because he's guilty,

to make him easier your ally
by an act of indulgence,

than by judicial action
that, among all your problems,

- will sharpen the clergy hostility.
- Indulgence! Clemence!

Every time I am defied,
every time I am challenged,

whenever I am betrayed, you bear only
those words in your mouth, Lancaster!

When I made Mortimer prisoner,

I was begged to pardon him.

I would have done better to treat him
as I did treat your brother,

whom I condemned to death.

Today he wouldn't have had to escape.

Perhaps you are right, my lord,

and, as you've being reigning for 16 years,
you must know how to adjust your facts.

So bring the bishop
before Parliament,

I will not stand against at all.

My head is sideways, of course, but
however I want to keep it in place.

Bad boy you are!

To penetrate the walls
of a tower I had built

to prevent anyone escape from there!

Perhaps, sire, my husband,

you were preoccupied, when you
built it, more with builders prettiness

than with the strength of the stone.

- Kent!
- Brother?

I made you Cinque Ports guard
and governor of Dover.

What do you guard now?
Why are you not on the coasts,

preventing the runaways to board?

Sire, my brother, it's you
who ordered me to join you!

Well, now I give you another one:
go back to your county,

have the towns and villages sieved
and be sure to inspect all the ships!

Better put spies on board ships
and catch Mortimer

- dead or alive, if he climbs on board.
- It's good advice.

As for you, Lord Chancellor,

you will return to London in great
hurry, go to the Tower,

and take it under your command, until
a new constable will be assigned!

How about that, ma'am?

I hold you responsible for it.

Responsible!

First let her hand.

Let the hand of Lady Jane!

You offer protection to a traitor
holding his wife beside you.

This was the way:

from the queen to her lady companion,

from the lady companion
to the bishop,

and from the bishop to the rebels!

The hand you were just holding, lady,

carried the escape hour
from a Mortimer to another!

You know what I'll do, ma'am?

I'll have your jewel box watched.

You already have a spy for it,
Sire, my husband!

Your lover's wife herself!

Lady Le Despenser!

Lady Jane Mortimer will go
to the Wigmore Castle

which will now be placed under
the supervision of my brother Kent,

until I decide what to do
with traitors assets.

That's an order, ma'am.

So, my lords,

come on! Hurry
to fulfill my commandments,

and every one mind his duty.

What a beautiful book
you have there, ma'am.

Will you be so kind
to lend it to me?

Of course.

Of course, the queen lends it to you.

Is not it, ma'am?

With pleasure, sire, my husband.

And I know what "borrow" means
when it's about your buddy Despenser.

There's already 10 years since, by
your will, I borrowed him the pearls,

and he's still wearing them
at his neck.

His flesh

make pearls alive.

I'll give them to you, my lord,

you only have to choose the woman
who will fix them to your legs.

And she'll not be late.

The French women are quickly inflamed
for those who suffer from solitude.

Ah, look.

Messire Tolomei saw us.

Old fox wants to know
what chase will be caught in his traps.

Come, my lord. Let's get up to him.

- Monseigneur!
- Friend Tolomei,

- I bring you new opportunities.
- New opportunities?

Ah, and how much will they cost me?

Come, come, banker of my soul!

Have I ever made you lose?

The lord in front of you
is Lord Mortimer, Baron of Wigmore.

Escaped from the Tower of London
on the 1st of August.

Honor, my lord, great honor.

Damn! News surely run fast!

- And how do you know all this?
- Oh, Monseigneur,

don't you know that King Edward has
a great debt to our companies,

who have offices throughout Europe,
thus in England too?

When you have a claim,
eye close

on everything that might happen,
good or bad, to debtor.

I cannot say at all, my lord,
that I was expecting you,

but I've hoped you've come.

What I was saying to you, my lord?

Tolomei know more about oneself
than himself.

Well, if you know everything, why
don't you tell us why we came to you?

Probably my lord decided
to settle in France.

And so we should procure him
everything a great senior needs

to maintain his rank:

the pleasure to lend from you,
noble little soul!

There was a council this morning.

An ordinance of great interest
was adopted.

Maybe you haven't been warned,
Monseigneur.

Lord Wigmore knows what
an important character you are,

Monseigneur, you always
have been, since your birth.

But... since you became
Mgr. de Valois' son-in-law,

you are in a position to know
everything about the kingdom affairs.

There was a council this morning;

hasn't been decided something
of great interest?

The great ones also, my lord,

were always concerned with the great causes,
sometimes ignoring the small effects

they have on the small ones...

Mgr. de Valois is still preparing
his own Crusade?

Still.

What a good Christian!

He managed to make the pope pay!

And if this Crusade, despite
monetary efforts of Mgr. de Valois,

would never start,

what a deal for the treasury!

And what deal for you!

If Mgr. de Valois would then think
to repay your debt?

Yes! What a business, Monseigneur!

Well, why not?

Didn't I repaid mine?

Yes, Monseigneur,
from your wife's dowry!

Which I received
from my cousin Charles,

who himself had borrowed it
from my aunt Mahaut.

The bitch!

She will never see that money again!

It's a curious destiny gold has!

There was a council this morning.

Where a great interest ordinance
was decided.

Good.

Ah, yes!
We discussed the price of candles.

And forbade adding suet to wax.

Oh, and old jams to the new ones.

The ordinance about issuing coins

will not be promulgated soon,
Monseigneur?

What ordinance?

Which forbids
cross abroad the kingdom

coins of gold and silver
minted in France.

Ordinance shall be promulgated
over two days.

My lord, you may consider
my modest home like yours.

Today you have an account
of 5,000 pounds.

Just do me the honor,

when you'll have to do with my bank,

to come up and see me.

You will certainly have
many things to tell me,

my lord.

What is pleasing to Mr. Tolomei
is the interest that he shows

to conversation
with people of quality,

my lord!

Order to buy immediately

all currencies in England,
Netherlands and Spain,

florins from Italy, doubloons, ducats,

in short, all currencies
from the foreign countries.

- What do we do with them, sir?
- Just wait.

There will always be pilgrims,

and they will have
to procure it from us,

because French gold will not
have the freedom to leave.

The day after tomorrow, foreign
currencies will increase by a quarter.

I'll be damned if we fail,
from mouth to mouth,

to make believe that
they will be missing completely!

And they will increase even more.

Crusade!

It's more than fifty years

that nothing big is done in Europe

in the service of God.

Since my grandfather Saint-Louis,
more precisely.

Louis, at least, intended to do that,

reconquering the Holly Land.

But he got to heaven,
and got away from it all.

Fear not, my lord, he will
talk eventually about England.

For now,
the pope's money is justified.

My nephew, Charles the Fair,
decided, by my advice,

to gather French cavalry.

Mgr. of Mortimer,

I will need
brave and pious companions

as you are.

Mgr. of Mortimer,
I propose you directly,

with my frank temper that
you will learn to know,

do you want to be one of my men?

If the help of a man who is the first
among the barons of the Welsh Marches,

who governed the kingdom of Ireland
and commanded in several battles,

can be of any use,
my blood is already devoted to you.

And it will be a beautiful cavalcade,
where it takes bravery.

The arrogant will have to show more
than they use to show in tournaments.

Sun! The unfaithful would certainly
be glad to make happy many maids.

Monseigneur, you can consider
myself as marching beside you.

- But I also wanted to ask you...
- I know, I know.

Robert put me in touch.

You want me to conspire in your
benefit against King Edward,

but, faithful friend,
I will not do it.

I won't, because
it would not solve anything.

Unless I'll not attract
a new outrage.

Monsieur, do you know the treatment
the count of Bouville had?

For proposing to King Edward

the marriage of my daughter
with his son?

And now I should ask him to return
your lands, to give back your titles?

For a while, Charles, I wonder:

Mgr. of Mortimer
has a too high stature

not to know that the reason of state
governs, of course, the great ones.

Edward asks the king
to deliver the outlaw.

To take Mgr. of Mortimer on crusade

is certainly
a noble way to answer.

We will not commit any indignity,
because we will not give him away,

and, on the Holly Lands, we give him
a good chance of being killed.

But who says that, while
we will fight among sands,

beloved Edward
will not take advantage of our absence

to seek discord to our kingdom?

Far is Jerusalem.

And, as a matter of fact...
on sea, one does puke.

At this, I am weaker than a nursling.

Maybe I have a better game to play.

Edward is concerned about his Scotch,
so concerned,

that he forgot to bring tribute
for Aquitaine.

We have guns and gold;

let's kill him in the Aquitaine.

Thus we will then go quietly
to the Holy Lands.

It would be, of course, a good workout
for our cavalry.

And for our artillery.
Italians begin to use it.

Our friend Tolomei is offering
to procure it.

Not presenting homages
not necessarily leads to war.

We will negotiate as usual, and then,

reluctantly,
homage will be brought.

Charles! When you were sent
by your brother, Philip the Fair,

in Aquitaine, to
elegantly restore order,

- what was the reason of your voyage?
- A large uprising in Bayonne,

when French and English sailors
fought, with some bloodshed.

Well, we have to invent
a new uprising as in Bayonne.

People of the two kings
that punch each other hard enough,

and kill a little...

And I think I know the place
for it.

Sarlat.

The king of France, seniors from Sarlat,
install here a new garrison

and begin to build
a fortress... rather threatening.

What do you think would do then
the king of England, duke of Aquitaine?

Will order his seneschal
to oppose,

and send a garrison there
in turn,

and here they are all at the mercy
brutal first meeting

between two soldiers.

At first insult suffered by an officer
from one of the other side,

this incident, Charles,
may be caused.

I admit, indeed, cousin, that
as good you are as a knight,

you also know the procedures
as a lawyer.

It's not by pleasure
I became an expert

in all France customs
and parliaments decisions,

but for my county of Artois.

But because until now this
I was not at all helpful,

maybe it will be for my friends.

It is possible that before long
we march along to the Aquitaine.

I'm not going to see Maltravers.

I don't want him to know what became
of the exiled baron of Wigmore.

I'm dressed up, I'm fed...

How ridiculous!

For several weeks I'm cheated
with false promises.

You know that, as soon as I came out,

Edward summoned the bishop
he engaged to finish me.

Damned England!

Sir Maltravers arrives
from London, my Lord.

- He came to join you, my Lord.
- What should I tell him?

Here, I serve them as a pretext
to intrigue and bargains,

but the king doesn't reign, while
Mgr. de Valois speaks of crusades

hoping to fill his coffers,

and Mgr. d'Artois is using
my presence

in order to weave
his own machinations.

In the meantime, England languishes.

Queen Isabelle
is in danger of death.

And the Aquitaine expedition,
Monseigneur?

It will be accomplished,
as the crusade. Id est never.

My Lord...

Maltravers!

- So you didn't bring with you...
- What, Monseigneur?

The smell of wet grass...

England... how is it?

Badly, my Lord.

And... the queen?

Some say that the Despensers
are planning her death.

You have to intervene without rest
to King Charles and his brother.

King Charles...

Everything he manages to do
when he agrees to see me

is to ask me how many children
my wife gave me.

And ask it every time.

And your wife, Maltravers,
how is she?

I just found out that King Edward,
learning that I came to see you,

ordered her to leave London,
and she was already transferred,

I dare not say "imprisoned",

in her castle of Spike.

And all these because of me.

Especially because those
framed up fights.

Each of them is a pretext for
King Edward

to tantalize furthermore
your supporters.

Didn't the queen give you
any message for me?

Oh yes, my lord.

I memorized it.

"Let Mgr. Mortimer know that
I possess nothing else but my life.

"And I greatly fear that they prepare
to take me that too.

"Urge my brother
to come to my rescue."

Charles will not move a finger,

not even to defend his sister's life.

King of France accepts war,

but at his home.

The destiny of England
passes through Aquitaine.

King Edward must be convinced
to bring here a combat troops.

To start a fight, and to lose it.

Yes, to lose it.

That's the way we can save
our unfortunate country.

- A defeat of the British?
- A defeat of Edward.

This is the price of saving the queen.

On 9th of July 1324,

King of France decided the seizure
of Aquitaine and of Ponthieu county

for revolt and homage failure.

At once, the king of England sends on
the continent the young Earl of Kent

to take his place in the duchy
and rise the people.

But he didn't know
the heat of bordelaise summer.

Here he is, down,
at the castle of Reol,

seeking the cold of the floor.

On 1st of July, at the feast
of Saint-Pierre-es-Liens,

Charles of Valois was hitting the road
to fall upon the English.

He's beautiful: his nostrils flaring
the smell of gunpowder.

Gunpowder, because the French,
thanks to Tolomei,

are armed with fire mouths,

and Reol will hear the first
gun shot in the air of France.

He is accompanied by his son Philippe,

Constable Gaucher of Châtillon,

Count Robert of Artois

and Roger Mortimer.

- Monseigneur!
- Yes!

Earl of Kent considers unacceptable
the summons that you served him.

We'll make him change his mind.

This is called a "bombard".

It comes from the Italian "bombarda",
because of the noise: "boom!"

A weapon of war without harming sides.

always pointing the enemy.

We, ho sit in the back,
didn't trust it.

I, who had to light the powder with
a long red hot iron stem,

said: "this is the end".

Well, no. I stood out!

Perhaps because of the large wooden
cage who was raised all around,

out of beams thick as my thighs.

When the cannonball got out of
the pipe, I jumped on my stomach,

and the bombard's back with me.

we both got stuck
at least 10 cm into the ground.

Well... it held good!

And those from the front...
will remember.

And this lasts for 11 days now.

No news about the backup?

Still nothing, Monseigneur.

King of England, forgive my word,
abandoned us.

If only I had the satisfaction,
on our first night tour out,

to see some French
cut into pieces on the spot...

The hospital is full of sick
and injured people.

The city has no more supplies,
nor water, nor roofs.

Besides, Monseigneur,
the population revolts.

We are here in a land
with grape vines.

It became urgent the vintage,
otherwise the harvest is rotting.

People, encouraged by
owners and merchants,

is threatening to rebel against
our soldiers

to get capitulation.

Your advice, Mr. Seneschal?

We have to give in, Monseigneur.

- You have a white banner?
- Yes, Monseigneur.

Then put someone to raise it
on the top of the castle.

We, Gaucher, Constable of France,

ensuring that there will be
neither robbery nor prisoners,

the Earl of Kent will deliver the dukedom
of Aquitaine to Mgr. of Valois,

who, moreover, invites him to dinner.

Gentlemen, to our kingdoms!

- To England!
- To England!

- To France!
- To France!

Edmond! A word only.

Are you eager to return
so quickly in England?

To confront Edward, your brother,

whose injustice
you know very well,

and who will reproach you a defeat
that the Despensers prepared to you?

For you have been betrayed, my lord,
you cannot pretend you do not know.

I knew that the promised reinforcements
had never left England.

Do not be surprised
I am so well informed.

I owe it to Lombard bankers. And
you know why you were betrayed.

As a winner here, you would have
become very important in the kingdom.

And feared by the Despensers.

That's the reason of their
betrayal, my lord.

Do you understand now that I had,
three years ago,

to revolt against the king?

I did it for England
and for the king.

Even against the king himself.

And you know what awaits you
if you return?

Once there, you will be charged
of treason and thrown into prison.

Yes, I begin to fear
that it will be so.

My lord,

it would be enough to offer yourself
as first hostage,

guaranteed, of course,
you will be treated like a prince.

It is from here, only from here that
we can save the kingdom of England.

The kingdom? Or the queen?

England.

My lord,

major actions are decided
in short time.

- How much time do I have?
- No need for time anymore, my Lord.

You have already decided.

John 22nd.

The conclave of Lyon believed
it was pretty clever

to elect a pope of transition.

Eight years have passed.

From his palace in Avignon,
former cardinal Duèze,

this frail old man,
this quickly revived moribund,

shows, under his tiara,
a great perseverance in living,

and no less incline
towards the government.

All Christianity businesses
pass through his hands.

His relatives, untill the
cousin siblings,

lodge not far from him
and have lunch with him.

The pontifical cuisine is sumptuous.

The wine of Arbois
flows as gold into goblets.

Liquors of Burgundy,
Lot and Rhône

accompany the best cheeses.

For his part, the Holy Father
contents himself

to munching a spoon of pike pâté,

and to sip a glass of milk.

Even put in his mind
to match the food with his clothes

and to eat but white food.

Thus, Mr. of Bouville, Mgr. of Valois
advised the king, his nephew,

to request my arbitration in this
ugly business in Aquitaine.

Could not pick a better messenger.

Holy Father, nothing great,
nothing right

can certainly succeed on this ground

without your blessing or
at least your permission.

French Court sought carefully

the council of Valladolid,
where was ordered

that brothers leave
their concubines.

That's right. I gave them six months to
free themselves from the bonds with sin.

And to encourage them, we set,
after two months,

to deprive of a third
of their benefits

those who have failed,

of the second third after four months,
and of all after six.

But it arrived, Holy Father,
to enact tougher punishment

against those priests
whose concubines are not Christian?

Spain, count... the Moorish women
are less disturbed than others

to fornicate with the tonsure.
(=Catholic priests)

We had therefore to increase prices.

Will it not the truth signed
by the count of Kent at Réole

expire in December?

Yes, Holy Father.

You should let Mr. of Valois know
that we would not be pleased

to see that he uses 400 soldiers

and 1000 crossbow bearers

that king Charles sent
as reinforcements to... Bergerac.

If our information is exact.

- It is, Holy Father.
- On the other hand,

I urgently invite King Edward
to submit as soon as possible

his homage to the king of France.

We will write to Queen Isabelle
to conjure her to use all forces

to re-establish the understanding
between her brother and her husband.

- But the crusade, Holy Father?
- Mr. de Valois is as firmly

- as he was about it?
- Everyone says that...

- Arabs, on those sides...
- I know.

I also know that Mgr. of Valois,
that I love as a son of mine,

made us pay for the crusade,

and that served him
to confiscate the Aquitaine.

Holy Father, you seemed, to count
of Valois, as to King Charles,

very sensitive to the honor
that Christianity...

You will say to Mgr. de Valois
that we give up the crusade.

I know him as a very respectful son
to the decisions of the Holy Church,

- I'm sure he will obey.
- No doubt, Holy Father,

that Mgr. of Valois will listen to you;
but...

How much?

- I beg your pardon?
- How much would Mgr de Valois

consider as rewarded
the expenditure already committed?

and the bitterness
to engage for nothing

the authority of his own person?

Mgr. de Valois did not instructed me
to answer this question.

May be he didn't tell you about it,
but he knew I was going to ask it to you.

So, how much?

Well, he gave much in advance to
the knights from his own fiefdoms

- to equip their troops.
- How much?

He was preoccupied about this
new powder artillery...

Bouville, Bouville... I don't ask you
how much he spent on weapons.

So?

- 100,000 pounds.
- That's his sum.

The same he asks to the Florentines,
from the Sienna’s inhabitants and from King of Anjou.

It's a very big seigneur,
and a very great thief.

So take him the good news:
he will get his 100,000 pounds.

Oh, Bouville,

but did not you say anything about...

that young man in Sienna, Guccio
Baglioni, that I made my apprentice?

What has he become?

I do not know, Holy Father.
I do not know...

He returned to his native Italy.

I'm surprised that this Baglioni,

Your protégé, my protégé,

financier by trade, could not take
advantage to make a fortune.

The child his wife was about to
bring him, was he born, did he live?

He was... was born,
Holy Father, he's...

He lives somewhere in the country
with his mother.

His mother, yes... his mother
wasn't she the little king's nurse

whom was born by Madame de Hongrie?

Yes. Yes, Holy Father,
I think she really was.

What do you mean, Bouville, "believe"?

Weren’t you his birth curator
by that time?

Yes, Holy Father.

Mr. of Bouville, I was
very happy to see you again,

and I do not know if at my age,
I'll have this joy another time.

Before your departure

I want to make the greatest favor
that can be given to a Christian.

I want to hear your confession.

Sins of the flesh? Of course,
because you are a man.

The sin of gluttony?
You're fat, Bouville!

The essential is to perfectly fulfil

the special mission that God

gave you in this world,
because in this area

our errors are most strictly counted.

My son, you were
a king's chamberlain,

and charged, under other three kings,
with the highest missions.

Have you always exactly fulfilled
these debts?

I have to admit
I failed a few ones,

that I could bring to a close.

Here, Holy Father, that is it:

My mind was not always
subtle enough,

and sometimes I realized too late
the mistakes I have committed.

A mistake is not a sin.

But do you keep memories
of some more serious mistakes, as...

homicide?

False testimony?

False testimonies!

Son, this is your chance

to completely clean your soul.

Confess this secret
that pushes you so hard, my son.

This secret...
is very true, it presses me so hard...

How come I thought not earlier
to share it with you?

Behold. It was after the death
of Louis the 10th,

eldest son of my master
Philippe the Fair.

And poor Bouville
told the whole story to the Pope.

The heavy mystery that overwhelmed him,
especially after his wife, called to God,

had left him as it's sole depositary,

I entrust the Pope.

This way, John 23th found out
about replacing Jean the Posthumous

with Guccio Baglioni
and Mary of Cressay's baby,

and about the criminal role played
in this by Countess Mahaut d' Artois.

If I kept silence, Holy Father,

is mostly due to
my late wife's advice.

If I lost the right time
to reveal the killer,

wouldn't revealing the truth
make Mrs. Mahaut

harden against the little king?

And shouldn't we remain silent
to save him?

And so the nurse's son
was buried in Saint-Denis

among kings...

Relax, Bouville.

I'll take your secret over me.

Holy Father, thank you!

How handsome he is!

He has her hair.

- And so she refused to receive you.
- Yes, Uncle.

And if I tried to find her?

Since her family agrees?

Maybe I could convince Marie

to accept
the legalizing of your marriage.

I would really like to keep this baby...

No, uncle, it's me the one
who doesn't want her anymore.

She loves me not; she never did.

- Then you go?
- Yes, uncle.

I'll go back to Sienna. With my son.

Unfortunately...

I'm aging, Guccio...

I'm aging...

God! A true little prince!

A true princeling.

Go fast.

For him
you cannot make anything better.

I do not want you to have
no harm, neither you,

nor this child.

Farewell, my little prince!

Farewell, my king!

On the way to Italy,

Guccio Baglioni imagined that,
kidnapping his son,

he steals the true and legitimate
owner of the throne of France.

And this secret was kept
by a sovereign pontiff,

an old faithful chamberlain

and a young woman, Marie
of Cressay, who, desperately,

gave up her love
to keep her oath.

Mortimer succeeded. Isabelle
is in France with the Prince of Wales,

to present, on behalf of Edward,
homage for Aquitaine.

Charles 4th the Fair
receives them at Maubuisson.

He is remarried.

But has he forgave the guilty Blanche?

Your brother Charles
would have released her,

and he would imposed her as queen,

if, unfortunately,

or rather by shame,

Blanche the sweet one, a year
before the coronation of Charles,

wouldn't get pregnant
in prison with a jailer.

And Mahaut, the bitch of my aunt
had to freeze

with the annulment
of the marriage of his daughter.

It isn't easy to get that,
you know, adultery is not a reason.

She had to rely her request
on Charles's lack of discernment

in expressing his wish
when he chose his wife.

It was a hell of a show.

One by one, from your Uncle
of Valois to the last maid,

each under oath,

everyone stated that Charles was
unable, simple and idiot.

Never a king of France was
so beautifully soiled.

Nothing has changed, cousin.
Gosling he was, gosling he is!

Do not expect help from him.

You are still as chaste,
beautiful cousin?

I had to be, cousin.

If somehow you want to change your
habits, don't forget I'm here, cousin.

With the same feelings as yesterday.

And...

I'll save you, Madame.

I will banish these cursed Despenser,

who have done so much harm to you.
I'll give you their heads.

And you will be queen.

My queen...

Have you ever loved King Edward?

Dear Mortimer...

Do you remember the chant
of the Knight of Graëlent?

In a book of Marie de France,

which was stolen to me
as everything else.

Graëlent was a knight so powerful,

so wonderfully loyal,

and his reputation was so great,

that the queen of that time
fell in love without knowing him;

the first time she found herself
alone with him, she said simply:

"My friend Graëlent,

"I never ever loved my husband,

"But I love you as much
as someone can love,

"and I am yours."

You ask me if I love the king?
I hate him!

For years I contented myself
to despise him,

but now I hate him! Do you know why?

Oh yes, I must tell you!

Edward is a monster.

He wanted from me one last child.

To overcome the disgust he had
sharing the bed with me,

he claimed that
Hugh Despenser, his lover,

should accompany him to my bed.

I had to wait until they
caressed and cuddled enough

before I had to suffer him.

I thought I would die of disgust.

And you never surrender
to other arms?

Never.

Not even to your cousin,
Robert of Artois?

For Robert, any game is good.

Queen or homeless,
for him it's the same.

No, my friend.
My heart is desperately empty

since a long, long time.

Oh, my lady,
why didn't I dare earlier?

- Why didn't I tell you...
- Tell me? What?

Even since the first time I saw you,

my life had no other light
that the light of your eyes.

I even rebelled against the king
out of love for you.

You know, my lady, that since
I put foot in France

I vowed to wear only black as long
as I won't come back to England?

And not to touch a woman's body

before I'll release you?

And you respected the oath?

- Do you doubt it?
- No!

We have no right! Each of us made

- a vow before God.
- Neither I, nor you have married

voluntarily.

We made our oath, but
we didn't obey to our hearts will.

My queen...

Why don't we exchange blood,

for ever I'd be your protector,
for ever you'd be my lady?

I'll be your servant.

You can ask me anything you want,

and not give me in exchange
than what you will please.

Look: I could stretch near you,

and I would not touch you at all
if you would forbid me.

Even if I was naked,
even if you were naked.

Where do you want
to take the blood from?

The finger? the forehead? the heart?

From the heart.

My friend, I give you my heart

and take yours, that gives me life.

My friend, I'll get it,

with the promise to keep it
instead of mine.

In the grey of the morning,
Isabelle, still trembling,

suddenly remembered a cry:

the one gave by
Marguerite de Bourgogne

even in this castle of Maubuisson.

...And I had the spring,
the love of a man.

His heat, his scent, his strength!

What have I done, Lord?
What have I done?

If I had known...

In his castle in Perray,
motionless in an armchair,

left by his conscience,

overwhelmed by the heat
under the blankets

that they thought
it was better to wrap him,

Mgr. Charles of Valois
was waiting to die.

Just like 11 years before
his brother Philippe the Fair,

he just suffered a stroke in the
mysterious mechanisms of the will.

Titular Emperor of Constantinople,

vicar of Christianity,

count of Romagna
who imposed ransom to Sienna,

who ruined Florence
and was exiled from Antes,

and filled Europe so long
with his roisterings,

Mgr. de Valois, abandoned by all,
was locked in his body as in a grave.

Only Robert of Artois,

who frequently travelled, his boots
stuck in the stirrups, Perray's road,

still came to visit
his dying father,

whose death,

if it had to deprive him
of a valuable support,

however it made him the greatest
senior in the kingdom.

Each prince... dying...

is a poorer man than
the poorest slave in his kingdom.

While Mgr. de Valois was agonizing,

Charles 4th convened
a council at the abbey of Chaâlis

to discuss the relations with England.

King Edward II required
the return of his wife and his son.

Cherchemont,

Read me again the passage where our brother
Mr. Edward complains about Mr. of Mortimer.

"Our wife and our son Edward,

"who accompanied her to France, joining

"our traitors and death enemies
well known to everybody,

- in such a great shame of us...
- Here's a letter really badly written.

The thing that caused so great
anger in the heart of King Edward

seems to be that Mgr. of Mortimer took
the mantle of the Duke of Aquitania

during the coronation of the Queen.

King of England considers himself
offended that in such circumstances

King of France found fit to designate

a rebel to take the mantle
of his brother, the Duke of Kent.

Lies!

A distorted, a sodomite! In France!

Cherchemont, what right have we to oppose
the demand of our brother in England

when we ordered
to conclude his wife's visit?

It's certain, sire, that, according to the
law, both of the church and of kingdoms,

we must, in some way,
to calm down King Edward.

- He asks for his wife...
- The Pope himself sent us

a message to that effect.

Your advice, Mgr. Jean?

The place of a wife
is by her husband's side.

My sister must therefore return
to the country of her marriage.

Sire Charles, my cousin,
you know what that means?

To offer Mrs. Isabelle,
hands tied, to the Despensers!

He came to you seeking refuge, because
she already feared she would be killed!

- And now that could be!
- May be my sister exaggerates.

These Despenser do not seem
so bad as she thinks.

I received several letters from them,
very pleasant ones,

and showing they care
about my friendship.

And additionally gifts,
fine silverware!

Sire Charles, my beloved cousin,

Does three red sauceboats
missing from your sideboard,

make you change your mind

about those
that have caused the fight,

and who are as husband and wife
with your brother?

We've all received gifts from them.

Right, Monseigneur?

And you, Cherchemont,
and you, Philippe?

All this does not cost a thing
to the Despenser,

they take it from Cornwall's revenue,
which they stole to your sister.

And you expect loyalty from some
people who disguise themselves as women

to meet their masters vices?

Don't forget what they are,
and where their power sits.

Seat...

Seat, that's the right!

Charles!

It's the first time I see you
after my daughter Blanche died.

He loved you, Charles!

I loved her too, mom...

Sire, my son, seeing that,
as I was suggesting you,

you decided to settle Isabella's case.

I know how much you love your sister
and how much she must suffer now...

And remember, it's the kingdom's
happiness and peace at stake.

They must not be anymore put
under question for a bad woman

because of whom we all suffered.

She's a woman, what the hell!

And her husband is not a man!
He is the real culprit.

Look what example is Isabella giving
to your court since she's here!

It's the same woman who has mud
once with lies and slander

my daughters and
Jeanne's sister, present here.

And mangled us all at her pleasure.

Today we know why:

the miserable one borrowed to the
others her torments and pleasures

she had in her blood.
I try it in her place,

because she just went to God.

Blanche was pure, she was innocent.

Innocent? Then the Holy Spirit
got her pregnant in prison?

How'd you know
she wasn't taken by force?

By force? Dear aunt!

I was in prison myself at the time
when, to please you,

your son-in-law Mr. Philippe the Long
tucked me in.

And for that I have not knocked up
the jailer's wife!

I've never been somebody's wife
to obtain benefits,

as practical in our English family.

Her cousin Marguerite was strangled
in the same prison!

And then she could not be raped?

No. Charles, for you called me
to your council...

Nobody called you, aunt,
you came by yourself!

I give you this advice from the heart
of a woman who bled enough.

Banish your sister from France.

Every time she came back,
the Crown experienced a misfortune,

and I tremble ever since she returned.

You're expecting a baby,
hopefully a boy,

because you must ensure
a king to France.

So I say to you, sire, my son,

keep this misfortune bringer

away from your wife's belly!

Dear aunt, how easy
you forget the afflictions!

Or you think
these are not such a thing?

First,

when my cousin the Quarreler died,

then, when his son,
little Jean the Posthumous,

quenched suddenly in your arms,

you were there, of course, each time,

but Isabella, where was she?

Among the assembled barons?

In Louis's room?

Perhaps my memory fails me.
But I don't see her,

my good aunt!

Let's not get lost,

and get back, gentlemen, to the point,

for which the king summoned us.

We have to make a decision.

Tomorrow morning my sister will be
accompanied to the port of Boulogne,

to be picked up and taken back under
escort to her legitimate husband.

That's my wish.

Sweet dreams, Mgr. Robert.

What are you doing here, little slut?

Beautiful night,
and what a pity I sleep alone!

Sleep comes hard this season...

Yeah. Beautiful Béatrice,
I've got business.

Another time.

Why don't you go and put these
cooling in the pond,

unless you want to take fire.

Stand up, friends, stand up!

You have to clear off immediately.

Otherwise, the king,
your blood brother,

will embark you by force
to England tomorrow.

Come on, stand up!

Turn your back,
cousin, to get dressed.

Come, cousin, no reward?

This naughty Roger
wants to keep everything for him?

So be it. I turn around.

Take young Edward with you,
and all those faithful to you,

but few people,
not to slow you down.

Go to Hainaut, where I'll send

a rider that will reach before you.

Our friend Kent will join you
bypassing at Ponthieu,

to gather all the knights
that you have there.

And then... God keep you!

Thicken up the ranks,
do your best,

fight!

I'll owe you my life, cousin.

Ah! If France were not so high,
that barely I can put a stop to

my aunt's wickednesses,
I'd surely like to go with you!

Go!

Run, beautiful cousin!

Run to England!

Not before long the king will find out
that you ran away with your lover.

But you will be already out of reach.

I, Jean de Hainaut, your knight
ready to die for you,

although everyone accuses you,

I promise that I will lead
you and your son,

over the sea, to England.

Here I am, Madame.

God forbid
ever the queen of England

kneel before anyone,
whatever he could he!

I, my knights, their squires and valets,
over 2000 on my payroll,

swear to render your throne
or our lives.

Messire Hainaut, I owe you everything.

And first, that I'm here.

Lord Mayor of Harwich,

I came here to help King Edward

to get rid of wicked counselors
the kingdom is plenty of,

and to restore the Queen
in her rights.

We have not, therefore, other
intentions than those inspired

by the will of the barons
and of England's entire population.

- Where's the king, my brother?
- I hear it's in London.

But I also heard it was at Portsmouth.

Are you aware of any troop
movements in the neighborhood?

No, Monseigneur.

Messire Hainaut!

How long will it take to your
knights to disembark?

Three good days, in order
to be ready to march, my lord.

Can you propose a secure place
where we retire?

The Walton Monastery, my lord.

Forward!

Ah, beloved country!

Finally!

The king hunt started.

It'll be terrible. The chasers
have the taste of blood on their lips.

In London, Edward, one last time
before his lords reunited,

tries to be still king.

My lords, I summoned you here,
at the Tower of London,

where came all the evils in the kingdom
when Mortimer, the traitor, escaped

to rebel against the Crown.

In these days he landed,
together with other priests.

By violence, and ahead
of foreign troops,

they want to overthrow
the royal power.

My companion, Hugh Despenser,

My friend's father and adviser,
was caught in Bristol,

dragged through the streets
tied to a horse

then beheaded.

I order all my subjects

to pounce on this rebel,

to oppose by any means
his actions

and to destroy him.

The only ones to be spared are
the Queen, her son, and Earl of Kent.

Whoever brings me
Mortimer's body,

or just his head,

will get a reward
of ten thousand pounds.

Hand in hand with his favorite,
the sovereign, became hunted, ran away.

He will try to raise an army.
Unsuccessful.

England became the place
of a long dog race.

Edward tried to reach Ireland.

Adverse winds stopped him.

From run to run,
to the end of Wales,

where, in a monastery, Despenser
and himself, hidden under monk coats,

await their end.

Sire, my cousin,
we finally find you.

It's time to pay
for the mistakes of your reign.

Cousin, what will become of me?

What will decide the barons
and the kingdom's great men.

My lord Despenser!

- I have orders to take you to the queen.
- No, no! Not that!

You won't take him from me!

It's your wife, you see?
She's getting back at us!

She is not afraid to do it!

It's her, this French wolf,
the cause of all evil!

Oh, Edward!
Why did you take her as wife?

Come on, you have to separate.

Farewell, Hugh, farewell! I won't
see you anymore, my life, my soul!

He's handsome, the "Miss"!

Poor Hugh! He lost his king!

And his counties!

We'll paint his arms
on his beautiful body!

Let yourself go!

Don't you do that cigar
the king asked you?

the one that makes you spit all,
which he did all night long?

Sentenced to death,

Despenser's torture was the subject
of particular refinement.

For being a sodomite, and
for involving the king in sodomy,

and for that he banished
the queen of his bed.

They cut him the sex and the testicles

and threw them into a furnace
full of ardent embers

that an adjutant kept on quicken.

Because he has a hypocritical
and treacherous heart,

and through his treacherous advice
dishonored the kingdom,

his chest was pierced.

Some clipper entered
to seek his heart still pounding,

and threw it on embers.

Her eyes shining,

her nails stuck
in the palm of her lover,

Isabella, careful, lost nothing
of her revenge.

That night, the requirements
she had in this pleasure

did not laten
Mortimer to impress.

Because she hated so much
the man who stole Edward to her,

she must have loved him once.

And, in Mortimer's shadowed soul,
begins to come alive a project

that he will carry out,
no matter how long it would take.

What have you to tell me, my lords?

Sire Edward, the parliament
respectfully summons you

to disclaim to the throne
and to the homage of your vassals.

It summons you to consent
to designate your son Edward,

Prince of Wales,
as sovereign of England,

and to return to us
the ritual insignia of royalty.

Your crown
is in your hands, my lord,

and you keep me at your mercy.

You traitors! Maleficent bishop!

But my consent, nothing of that kind!

Act by force! Show that a man
of the church opposed to a king!

Sire, the people of England
don't want you anymore as king.

And your son doesn't want to accept
the crown unless you consent to it.

If you obstinate in refusing,
the people will be free to choose,

and will elect a sovereign or prince
out of the great men of the kingdom

who will please them most.

And this king could be
not from your lineage.

Mortimer, perhaps!

Mgr. Orleton just spoked.

You have to give up, cousin.

To bring peace to England.

And to be sure that the reign
of the Plantagenets goes on.

My lord,

I know that by my own mistakes
I fell in a so big misery.

I can't impede myself to suffer
a heavy sadness

for all this hatred
that my people shows me,

that I do not have at all hated.

You are magnanimous, my lords,
very magnanimous,

to keep be devoting
to my oldest son,

that you have not ceased to love him,
and that you want him as a king.

Before you, I give up
all my rights over the kingdom.

Take it, my lord,
and put it to my son.

And you, also,

please give me forgiveness for wrongs
and injustices that I have caused.

Pray for me, my lords,

for I am no longer anything.

This won't happen.

Edward is no longer king.

He attends only the ordeal
and derision.

Reduced to the condition
of an animal,

Edward commit
an ultimate unforgivable act:

he lives.

A pit full of carrion
lying for days.

What better food
before he leaves?

It's a good meal for this asshole!

Go and eat, Edward!
A good meal is waiting for you.

What it stinks! Himself also.

If he had some decency,
he might throw himself in the well!

- A corpse with corpses!
- You have to coddle him, don't forget.

- He should only let himself fall.
- And that one still wants to live?

A whole year he has been rotting!

And he still doesn't decide
to hang up the spoon!

What a stubborn you got there,

whose life is threatening
the one of the kingdom!

There are plots going on for releasing
him, in the mansions of Wales.

Dominicans have the impudence to preach
in his favor at London.

Edward is not dangerous in itself,
I agree.

But he is a pretext
to excite our enemies.

Vouchsafe, please, to give
this order I advise,

without which neither you,
nor your son

will ever be safe.

Good Mortimer, I already told you that
you'll never get the order from me.

I'd better stand all the risks
but to agree to this solution.

Please...

let's not dirt our hands
with that blood.

Where did you suddenly get
this idea with the blood?

The blood of the Earl of Arundel,
of Baldock, of the Despensers,

from all that blood
you have not looked back.

Some nights, I even thought
you like blood.

You still love him, right? You do still
love him! You always did!

Even if he preferred
a man instead of you, you loved him!

Fool! So jealousy is
will never go out of you?

Do you still need proof?

Didn't I show you enough before
the whole kingdom of France,

before that of England,
even in front of my son?

That in my heart I had
no other love than yours,

what else do you need
to convince you?

Let's kill him.

He's a king, good Mortimer!

A King!

You cannot understand,
you're not born a king.

I am descending from the kings
of Denmark, yet I am not a king.

This way, my life not being protected
against an accident of fate, I leave.

I'll seek refuge elsewhere
before it is too late.

Outside of a kingdom whose queen
loves me so little,

that I feel
my place is not here anymore.

Mortimer! Good Mortimer! Stay!

Stay! Please, come back!

Return!

I'm only a woman, my love!
I need you!

- For your support, for your advice!
- Have you decided?

Do as you think.

- Are you sure that is what you want?
- I want what you want!

Do you really?

Then...

Guards!

Get Mgr. Orleton immediately here.

The queen considers for good reason
that her husband's life

endangers the peace of the kingdom.

And she worries that God
latens so much to call him in heaven.

The queen is seen faced
to the cruel dilemma

always arises
in front of the states leaders:

sacrificing one life
to spare more.

Have you heard?

Of course, the God's commands
forbid us to hurry any end.

But kings are not ordinary people.

I thought I understood, my lord,
that guards of the fallen king

should exempt you
of asking yourself such questions.

The guards seem
to have exhausted their resources,

and will not act before
receiving written orders.

Or a written order may reach
the wrong person.

In other words, you want, at the same
time, to send the order and not.

I want to send a clear order
for those who need to hear it,

and remain obscure to those who
would risk to lay hands on it.

Do you understand?

My lord, by your will,
I'm just a poor bishop,

who has no office, no diocese
where to plant his cane.

All right. I will write the pope.
You'll have Worcester.

You have my word.

The order should not be long.

If you or the Queen do not agree

to sign a letter
of so little importance,

I can do it myself.

"Eduardum occidere
nolite timere est bonum."

"Eduardum occidere" I understand;
"nolite": do not;

"timere": to fear,
"bonum est": it's good...

Should I understand: "Do not kill
Edward; it's good to be afraid

to do this", or

"Do not be afraid to kill
Edward, it is a good thing"?

God's will shall manifest

by how much will understand
the receiver of this letter.

But the letter itself,
if discovered,

who will be put to blame?

Good Mortimer,

do not leave me alone tonight.

"Eduardum occidere,
nolite timere,

"bonum est"!

"Do not be afraid to kill Edward,

"bonum est..."

"It's good."

Let's act
as the queen expects from us.

"No evidence," said the rider.

- Poison?
- Where to find it?

And then people will talk.

- If you choked him?
- One could see the snare's marks.

And her face would remain livid.

We need to punish him
through where he sinned.

Enough to penetrate its end.

Thus, a rake
can enter and exit

freely inside.

We put the horn in place,

make the rake hot red in fire,

and on the body, no evidence.

Here, you feel better now,
is not it?

My lord,

now we will put you to sleep,

on a good bed of feathers.

- You received new orders?
- Yes, of course I have orders.

And we'll treat you well, my lord.

Even fire was ordered to you.

Evenings start to be colder,
isn't it, Ogle?

I am not cold, I swear.
Not at all.

Come on, lie down, my lord.
Bedding is good, you'll see.

What are you doing, Ogle?

You're cutting a horn?
To drink from it?

No, my lord, not to drink.

I'm cutting a horn, that's all.

I think the length is right,
don't you think?

Your Despenser,
whom you loved so,

was he well endowed?

- Come, my lord Hurry up!
- You wouldn't do this, would you?

You wouldn't kill me!

Hold him tight!

Come on, Ogle!

Assassins invited the
peasants from surrounding

to defile in front
of the fallen monarch.

They all could say honestly

that Edward II
died of a natural death.

There was no mortgage left
on the crown of England.

A crime without a trace.

Translated and adapted by
selaflaure (selaflaure@gmail.com)