All language subtitles for Princes.in.the.Tower.(2005)-CD1.en

Once, a long time ago, I had a brother.

He was going to be king.

But he was never crowned.

One night, they came for us.

We disappeared.

And though our bodies were never
found, the people believe we are dead.

So little is known of the
fate of those two souls.

But this much we do know.

For only 77 days, England was
ruled by a 12-year-old Prince of York.

Edward and his brother Richard
were imprisoned in the Tower of London.

They were seen playing outside
together on a summer's day in 1483.

And then they were never seen again.

Unless you believe the story of a
man who appeared eight years later.

My name is Richard, Duke of York.

I am back to claim my throne.

Le Roi est vive.

He was royally received all over Europe.

Ireland gave him men.

Scotland gave him their
king's cousin as his bride.

He landed on the shores of
England with an army of 8,000.

His supporters proclaimed
him King Richard IV.

He was ready to face his foe.

The House of Lancaster now ruled England.

Henry Tudor had beaten the
Yorkists in battle to take the crown.

Now he would finish
them off once and for all.

He sent his army west to crush
the uprising and hang its leaders.

But Richard, he wanted taken alive.

He was dragged back to the very
place where the princes had been held.

The new Tudor king, Henry
VII, was a superstitious man.

Known to consult in astrology
before making any kind of decision.

Stop in God's name!

The young man had too many friends

among the ambassadors of
Europe to simply disappear.

The identity of this man
imprisoned in the tower

remains one of the most tantalising
mysteries in the story of England's past.

Could there be any chance that he was one
of those little boys delivered from death?

One thing was now certain.

To silence the pretender forever,
Henry would need to extract a confession.

Richard had lost on the battlefield.

But was this the real contest?

Please be seated.

One slip, and it will all be over.

This is the Bishop of Cambrai,
ambassador for the Duchess of Burgundy.

Whatever is said and done in this room

will be properly recorded.

I don't believe your claim to be a prince.

It's quite clear the princes were murdered
by their uncle Richard here in the tower.

I don't believe you've ever
been in the tower in your life.

But we live in a country
which respects the law.

The law, you say?

Things must have changed then.

What is your name?

Richard.

Richard?

Yes.

You're sure about that?

Think carefully before you answer.

Well, to speak more truthfully-- and
we must speak the truth, for there are

witnesses and a scribe present-- I would
have to call myself Richard Plantagenet,

the fourth of England, Duke of
York, Earl Marshal of England,

Duke of Norfolk,
Earl of Varenna and of

Nottingham, Lord of
Seagrave, Mowbray, and Gower.

Do you need me to repeat any of that?

Since when have you been
referring to yourself by those titles?

Since my first marriage to Anne,
Duchess of Mowbray, alas, now dead.

When did she die?

Can't remember.

You can't remember when your wife died?

About 1482, I think.

I didn't pay much attention.

I was only nine at the time.

Are these your clothes?

Yes.

They say they cost a king's ransom.

Well, the clothes make the man.

Only a king has the right
to wear a cloth of gold.

I know.

But wearing cloth of gold
does not bestow kingship.

I should hope not.

They say they see in my
face the image of the last

rightful king of England,
my father, Edward IV.

A person might use a portrait as a model.

He might.

And then again, he might not.

I grant you, a person might cut his hair
this way or that to suggest a resemblance.

But the features of the
face, they are God-given.

Quelle Philosophe... J'ai
lu la Philosopie, c'est pas así

Is French your native tongue?

No...

Your accent is perfect.

Thank you.

As if it were your native tongue...

Anyone who travels and who has a good ear

can become a skilled
as I am with little trouble.

This is all show and no fuss, sir.

It is time to eat.

Of all the forces that guided the
king, the most powerful was his mother.

It was because of her Lancastrian blood that
he was born sixth in line to the throne.

Lady Margaret Beaufort, pious and pitiless.

Why is Cambrai here now?

A courtesy visit.

Or so he says.

The Spanish ambassador
arrives this afternoon.

Ambassadors always arrive
at the worst possible time.

It's part of their skill.

Well, Spain surely won't
give us Catherine of Aragón

for our grandson if they get any
suspicion we're not secure on the throne.

Will you send for the king?

No.

If Henry comes, it will
give Europe the message

that he thinks the
pretender is a serious threat.

I'll come myself.

A Tudor marriage with Spain had for years
been Lady Margaret's passionate desire.

Once consummated, it would place her family

on Europe's high table, keeping
company with the world's elite.

But the pretender had built
his own European alliances,

which threatened the
fulfilment of her dream.

Lady Margaret knew
she needed to bring the

interrogation to an end
swiftly and decisively.

This task she had entrusted
to a man thought by many

to possess the most
cunning mind in England.

You're not Richard.

You're not a Duke.

You're not of the House of York.

You're not even English.

You're a puppet and a pawn.

And you will pay the price
for what you have done.

Do you think I'm afraid of you?

Ask me your questions.

Trick me if you can.

But remember this.

I'm Richard, Duke of York, the
last rightful heir of Edward IV.

And I'm your king.

And I say before these
witnesses that when this is over,

you will kneel to Richard
IV and beg for mercy.

1483, King Edward dies.

What happens to Richard?

Answer the question.

On April the 9th, I went with my mother

to take sanctuary at Westminster Abbey.

And your brother went with you?

No, my uncle had taken him to the
tower to prepare for his coronation.

When did you join him?

For a few weeks, I stayed
quietly with my mother and sisters.

We weren't allowed out.

Then one day, my uncle Richard came for me.

He embraced me, gave me warm
words, and said he'd keep me safe.

Then I was taken by boat to the tower.

So your life in the tower.

We had a few familiar attendants,
men we'd known at our father's court.

We played in the grounds.

You were able to play
out of doors for a time?

So here you are having a little
holiday, not feeling very frightened or--

One day when we weren't looking,
they took our attendants away.

We were playing.

One minute they were there watching
over us, next minute they'd gone.

And then?

They moved us.

They put us somewhere
further inside the tower.

We weren't allowed outside anymore,
and we were kept locked up at all times.

Your brother was inclined to
be melancholy, was he not?

He was in severe pain.

He had a disease in his jaw.

From the moment they took our attendants
away, he was convinced we were going to die.

Did anyone come to see you?

There was a doctor.

He'd been in our father's court.

He came to see Edward.

What was his name?

Something to do with silver.

He was an astrologer, an alchemist
too, one of my father's closest advisers.

What was he like?

He was a kind man.

He seemed-- he seemed
the last bit of safety,

the last link with the
world we'd known.

When he stopped coming, even I got scared.

So tell us about your escape.

Tell us by what miracle
Prince Richard honours us with

his presence, when most of those who
knew him thought him dead these 16 years.

We went to bed.

We slept.

I- I remember half waking up and seeing
two men standing beside my brother's bed.

But I was used to seeing guards in
the room, so I didn't pay any attention.

Guards in the room at night?

Yes, they'd check on us
several times most nights.

Anyway, I often had vivid dreams,
especially since I'd been in the tower.

I thought I must be dreaming.

When I woke up, I was in a boat.

In a boat?

Yes.

Did you ask what had
happened to your brother?

Of course I did.

They told me that he was
dead, that I must forget who I was.

So you slept through the
murder of your own brother.

Yes, it seems I did.

When had the doctor stopped coming?

I don't remember exactly.

A week, two weeks.

Argentine.

I remember his name now.

John Argentine.

Your father's close adviser?

Yes.

And the man who made you feel
safe when you were most in danger?

Yes.

How strange that you don't recognise me.

You.

Yes.

I don't believe it.

You didn't know me.

You didn't know me either.

That's because you're an impostor.

You didn't recognise
me because you've never

set eyes on me in your
entire miserable life.

No.

It's because when you left us,
we thought that you were dead.

What else were we supposed to think?

You were our magician.

We thought you were capable of anything.

How dare you?

I loved those children
as if they were my own.

Then how is it you are here?

Not dead at all, but living a life of
privilege in the court of a usurper.

Did you abandon us for that?

Dr. Argentine knew that
the prisoner had won the

advantage by creating just
sufficient reasonable doubt.

Lady Margaret was in no mood for doubt.

She called another
witness, not just someone

who knew the princes,
someone closer in blood

to the princes than anyone
left alive, the Queen of England.

The Spanish ambassador had arrived.

And it was true indeed that his
timing could not have been worse.

He was at court to
negotiate a royal marriage.

But there was now a very real
danger that he would be distracted.

The ambassador for Burgundy
would surely have told him

that the interrogation had
not gone well for the Tudors.

These two highly influential
diplomats were the jury.

And their verdict could decide
the fate of the Tudor dynasty.

There was no one better qualified

to test the prisoner's claim
than this crucial witness.

Elizabeth of York was
clearly unhappy to come

into the presence of a man who violated
the memory of her own long lost brother.

Her Majesty the Queen and sister
to the prince-- I know who she is.

Her Majesty will know when you are
telling the truth and when you are not.

So begin.

What is your earliest
memory of your sister?

Allow me to introduce myself.

Dr. Rodrigo Gonzalez de Puebla.

I feel sure that my colleague,
the Bishop of Cambrai,

will continue to inform
me of events to date.

However, I do wish to
stress that this imposture

is not the matter that
I'm here to discuss.

So the sooner that it is
concluded, the better for all of us.

What do you remember of normal family life?

Normal?

There was no normal.

Up in our schoolroom, our
mother is telling us stories

of how she's descended from
Melusine, the serpent woman.

Of course, we had to pretend we
didn't think she was completely mad.

Meanwhile, across the corridor in his
bedroom, the king is throwing a private party.

It might be one or more of
his three regular mistresses

and any number of
passing fancies of either sex.

He'd try anything at least once.

He had an adventurous
palate and a huge appetite.

If it was alive, he'd fuck it.

And if it was dead, he'd eat it.

How can you claim to be who
you say you are, yet show such

disrespect to the queen by
speaking so insultingly of our family?

I show no disrespect, and I mean none.

I'm simply telling the truth.

By telling the truth, I prove who I am.

He kept a feather by his bedside
and on the table at all times.

He'd stuff himself until he could eat no
more, and then use it to make himself sick.

Then he'd stuff himself again.

Make him sound like a
monster, grotesque, repellent.

No, he wasn't.

At least, whatever he was, it
didn't seem to put anyone off.

Everyone loved him.

In fact, he'd have just walking
into a room, you'd see it.

He could seduce anyone,
and they all came back for more.

Do you remember that last family Christmas?

You in your French
clothes, our father in

the best of moods
because you were beautiful.

Half of the alliance he'd
worked for for so long.

The queen of France in waiting.

It was the nearest we'd got to a happy
family Christmas, in my lifetime anyway.

But then a messenger came from
Louis to say that the marriage was off.

I could see how much you were hurt.

Everyone else was running around,
worrying about the effect on the king.

You must have felt it
was somehow your fault.

My little brother crossed
the room and took my hand.

He was the only one.

For everyone else, it was
though I suddenly did not exist.

The queen behaved as though she
was angry with me, but wouldn't say.

The king couldn't even look at me.

Richard was the only one.

Your Majesty?

I will return.

The pretender was right about the Yorkists.

It reminded me of how glad
we were to see the back of them.

Edward was a feral cat.

And his brother Richard was
duplicitous and frankly, incompetent.

When the Princes disappeared,
he never issued a denial.

No bodies were found.

There was never an
attempt made at a cover up.

Nothing!

Just the slaughter of the
innocents left hanging over this...

miserable, uncivilised,
sodden flannel of a country.

Spain would not want to do
business with that kind again.

I'm sorry.

Why would I be offended?

Oh, come on, Cambrai.

Don't be so colourless.

Everybody knows you're
in the pay of the duchess.

The last of the Yorkists.

The pretender's great mentor.

You overstate my partisanship.

I really think you need to be very
careful about who you do business with.

Legitimacy is far more important
than personal preference.

Just suppose you made an
arrangement with the Tudors

and discovered that the
pretender was not a pretender.

He may have claimed to have
been a disinterested observer,

but the Bishop of Cambrai was as partisan
as anyone in the interrogation room.

His patron, the Duchess of Burgundy,

was none other than the
aunt of the princes in the tower.

And she had openly and steadfastly
claimed Richard as her true nephew.

And now, clearly the queen herself had
been much affected by this young man.

All her life, Elizabeth,
daughter, sister, niece, and wife

of kings of England, had
been used as a political pawn.

Her marriage to Henry Tudor
had been arranged by his mother

to unite the two houses
of York and Lancaster

and end the bloodshed
of the Wars of the Roses.

But it seemed that
the arrival of this lost brother

grown into such
a man, had reawakened

her own sense of Yorkist
identity and independence.

What is the wound on the prisoner's neck?

What is the wound on the prisoner's neck?

I believe it may have happened on the night
that he was brought here, Your Majesty.

Have some hot water brought here.

Must be tended.

I have never been told how my brother spent

their last days after
they stopped being seen.

No one knew.

And all these years, I have
had to imagine...

to wonder whether they knew
anything that was happening at all.

I've already said much
of what I can remember.

Perhaps you can remember
something more specific.

Yes, I'm sure I can.

Edward was king, though uncrowned.

Since being in the tower, he'd already

been working as the king,
signing charters and letters.

The date had been set for the coronation.

Edward had been measured for his robes.

I had my own special robes for the day.

So did I. We all did.

Everything had been prepared.

We did wonder at the
time why no one from the

family except Uncle
Richard had come to see us.

I tried.
He wouldn't allow it.

Whenever I asked, he
just kept saying, soon.

That's what he said whenever I asked.

But there were the robes.

That meant we would see you all again.

Edward would be crowned,
and we would leave the tower.

The day of the coronation dawned.

We got dressed.

We waited.

And no one came.

I remember the sun moving around the room.

Edward sitting there, all dressed
up, ready to be crowned king.

And he never said a word.

Didn't have to.

We both knew what it meant.

No one came, which
meant that one day someone

would come for us, but not
to take us to a coronation.

You don't need to have been
there to be able to tell us this.

Anyone with a vivid imagination--

My Richard had a birthmark on his back.

Oh.

You used to sing me to sleep.

Do you remember?

"La-lay, la-lay, my little child.

Sleep, and now be still."

"If thou be a little child,
yet may thou have thy will."

She is my sister.

She has known me since the day I was born.

She bathed me, sang to me.

If she remembers a Mark
on my body, it's because

she saw that Mark when
I was 10 years old or less.

And if that does not content
you, then I ask you, how

would any one of you prove
you are who you say you are?

The Queen of England herself, far
from discrediting the prisoner's claim

to the throne of England,
had recognised him publicly

as her brother, and therefore,
one of the princes in the tower.

Lady Margaret's plan
was spiralling out of control.

I have sent for the King.

He certainly knows everyone's
weak spot, this pretender.

You've trained him well.

I haven't trained him at all.

But he spent a long time with
you and the duchess, didn't he?

He did, yes.

Well, who do you think he is?

The nature of identity is
not at all a simple matter.

Who do you think he is?

Perhaps Master Thomas More knows.

Who's Master Thomas More?

Him, El Mudo, El Ratón al rincón.

The little mouse in the corner, huh?

Yes.

One of Henry's spies, don't you think?

Yes, Henry is the most
suspicious monarch in Europe.

He has spies everywhere.

But I'd rather think his spies
are perhaps a little less obvious.

What is the pretender's age?

26 or thereabouts.

The prospect of a match
between this man of 26

and our 11-year-old virgin
Princess grows more desirable.

It grows more interesting early.

And such an age difference is not

uncommon even here in England.

I've heard that Henry is on his way.

So he must think he's in trouble.

Europe was leaning towards the pretender.

But the bishop was right.

My Lord King Henry didn't
need me to be his spy.

It was my duty simply to make
a record according to his will.

By 1499, his majesty had been plagued
for over eight years by the pretender.

During that long time, he'd
not been idle in his own defense.

He'd been gathering
information from a web of

sources across Europe,
always looking for anything

that might help him to
discredit this Yorkist claim.

And he knew that the situation
had now reached a crisis.

Elizabeth!

It's all right.

It's just water.

Must have been such a lonely
life, a homeless, wandering

from country to country.

I think you must be the
loneliest man in the world,

whoever you might be.

No, I'm not lonely.

I have the love of a
beautiful woman, my wife.

I have a wife.

And I have a husband.

What?

If it's alive, he'll fuck it.

If it's dead, he'll eat it.

No one's allowed to talk like that anymore.

I swear, sometimes it's as
though my family never existed.

What do you mean?

Henry doesn't like me to talk about them.

He says we were licentious.

Makes me feel as though
I ought to be ashamed.

Well, I'd hate to make you feel ashamed.

No!

I'm only ashamed that
he let me forget who I am.

What?

It's what seeing you gives me.

I can remember myself.

Richard, they've sent for Henry.

You've got to get out.

No, he won't let you live.

Where do you expect me to go?

For the king, too, there
was no going back now.

He was haunted by a dark
prophecy from Dr. Argento.

My lord, the alignment of
the planets is not favourable.

Your life is in great danger all year.

The deep divisions within the
kingdom have not yet healed.

York and Tudor were about to
clash once more in mortal combat.

Your Majesty.

What is it, Dr. Argento?

If Your Majesty will permit,
I think a stool sample.

Of course.
Come along!

So it hasn't been going well.

I hesitate to say, Your Majesty.

Say you must.

It isn't straightforward.

There were unexpected developments.

We have to deal with
him once and for all, John.

I know.

I have some new information.

The new information
was a trail of gunpowder.

Henry had every hope it would
blow the pretender's claim wide open.

But the king was intent
on keeping the powder dry

until the portents
were exactly right.

Cambrai.

Your Excellency.

Mierda.

Cambrai.

It seems that His Majesty's stools dictate

that the most auspicious
time to begin his interview

is just before midnight.

Meantime, I must find
some balm for my flea bites.

The royal princes, Arthur and Henry,

were nursed and guarded day and night.

They were the future of the dynasty

and as threatened by the
pretender as the king himself.

I hear you had a restless night last night.

No.

I would say it had been many
years since I slept as soundly.

I am surprised at you, Elizabeth.

I thought I could count on your loyalty.

I thought your son could
count on his mother.

I surprised myself.

Not for what I said or did yesterday,

but for how long it has taken me.

Elizabeth!

You are the Queen of England.

Yes, Henry.

I am queen.

How has this ridiculous
pretender so affected you?

I married a pretender.

Our alliance is based on pretence.

How can you wonder that another
pretender should hold some interest for me?

Oh.

So you have some interest.

He reminds me of my father.

Your Majesty.

Time to go, Henry.

It's an extraordinary and
affecting story that you tell.

The miracle of survival for
one of those innocent children.

What news that would be for every
man, woman and child in this country.

Tormented for 16 long years by the memory
of what befell the princes in the Tower.

And you've told this
story very convincingly.

Most of the crowned heads
of Europe seem to believe you.

I congratulate you.

I would like to tell a different story.

You must forgive me if I
lack your skill at embroidery.

Picture the moment when little Prince
Richard was taken from his mother.

A man came, took him by
the hand and led him away.

Now imagine another scene.

A family home in the
town of Tournai in Flanders.

And who's in de stadt
van Doornik in Vlaanderen?

A little boy with his mother.

A man comes, talks to the mother, takes
the boy by the hand and leads him away.

The little boy from Tournai
was called Perkin Warbeck.

We have a portrait of his mother.

She's a pretty woman.

I'm sure every mother would
wish her son to say that of her.

Especially when she hasn't
seen him for many years.

And when he only writes
to ask her for money.

We have here a letter intercepted
on its way from England to Flanders.

Mother, as humbly as I can,
I commend myself to you.

And may it please you to know that
by fortune, as part of their scheming,

certain Englishmen made
me take it upon myself

that I was the son of
King Edward of England.

I now find myself in such trouble

that if you are not at this hour a good
mother to me, I shall be in great danger.

And so on and so on.

I don't know who wrote
that, but it wasn't me.

We wanted to bring your mother over here.

Indeed, she was on her way, eager no doubt
to see her son so long away from home.

But alas, she died on the way.

That is unfortunate.

Certain citizens of Tournai,
who knew the boy well,

swear that Perkin had
a birthmark on his back.

The Mark that has convinced your
supporters that you are Richard of York.

You have no real proof of anything.

No, since conveniently for you,
Perkin's mother died on her way over here.

I'm sorry for her family.

Oh, I'm sure you are. Especially for her
husband, the boatman, Johann Warbeck.

He told us about the birthmark
and how his son disappeared.

Just when you began your famous travels.

Doesn't mean he's my father.

No, not your real father.

I heard that the Duchess
of Burgundy embraced you

not only as her nephew, but as her son.

She adopted me as her son, yes.

Oh yes, but I heard also
that you are indeed her son.

Not by adoption, but by birth.

And I find myself wondering
who the father might be.

Some people say that the Bishop
and the Duchess have a secret.

Some people say the
secret they share is a child,

who for the sake of discretion
was called Perkin Warbeck.

This is ridiculous!
Is it?

This story gave way to the
legend of the risen prince.

Only later, when the Duchess decided to
use her son in her sad and hopeless game.

This is outrageous! It's calumny!

I can hardly believe what I'm hearing.

Oh, I can believe it.

I wouldn't expect anything
more from a man who

is paid to pander to the
neurosis of a usurper.

You called me a usurper?

You, a boatman's son,
or the bastard child of a Bishop?

Yes, and what are you, exactly?

You're descended from the illegitimate
offspring of the third son of Edward III.

A bastard descendant of a bastard.

How many were betrayed to clear your path?

How can you look at your own children

when you think of those two innocents
who were murdered or so you thought?

And whose deaths were never avenged?

That is why your reign is cursed.

And that is why I call you a usurper.

That is enough.

What was Henry thinking of?

He was thinking the pretender
is looking rather too convincing.

Perhaps he was creating a diversion.

I'm glad I have your support.

You do. Of course you do.

Your predecessor had
35 illegitimate children.

I wouldn't expect you or
your Duchess to live up to that.

I shall pretend I didn't hear.

We're not in public now.

All I ask is an affirmation
or a denial between friends.

My dear friend, I have done
nothing to be ashamed of.

The astonishing suggestion
that the Duchess of Burgundy

and her corpulent confessor were the
real parents of the pretender

was never substantiated.

But one thing now seemed clear.

If this was a conspiracy,

the Duchess was the one pulling
the strings of her puppet prince.

And the man who'd been so sure of
his story no longer looked so convincing.

So the man who would be king of all England
was just the son of a common boatman,

if the king's spies were to be believed.

But boatman's son or not, telling
Henry his reign was justly cursed.

Now that showed he knew
his enemy's weakness.

Don't tell me that you too
believe he is the lost prince.

I don't know.

But the truth is, he's right.

The death of the princes
was the murder of innocence.

My reign is cursed by it.

You didn't wish for
the death of the princes.

This is the heart of the night
we have lived through for so long.

This is when the crucible blackens
and all seems dark, all seems lost.

The light is only light because
the darkness has passed

and it will not pass
unless you go through it.

Without that, nothing happens,
nothing real, nothing endearing.

This is your test.

He is your test.

Let's just suppose that
he is indeed your brother.

What would you have me do?

I'd have you do what is right.

And what in your view is right?

Find the truth, Henry.

And live or die by it.

Where are the children?

Asleep, of course.

What happened to your brothers?

It's not going to happen to them.
He would never harm my children.

Our children.

Even if you are prepared to
sacrifice their right to the throne,

you must know that to be a good king,

and to keep the peace that
I have worked so hard for,

he would have to destroy any threat to
his security, regardless of who they were.