All language subtitles for Mary Queen of Scotts 1971 HD

What is it?

- Sante vierge!
- What is it?

- My head. My head.
- Francois?

- Mary, help me.
- Be still, be still.

- Are you mad? Or do you wish my son death?
- No, madame, I love him!

I know that what you have done
is stupid and reckless!

- Don't touch him! I forbid you to hurt him!
- Vos majesties.

- Uncle!
- Be patient, my child.

The doctors may be trusted
with the life of the king.

It is his third attack in a month.
He may well die of this illness.

- No!
- We would be stupid not to consider it...

- and the effect upon us if he does.
- He will not die!

- I will not let you talk of it!
- Oh, yes, you will, Mary.

I shall be plainer
than my brother.

We of the family of De Guise are finished if
Francois dies and there is no child of your body.

- I will not think of life without him.
- You must!

You are queen of Scotland by birth
and queen of France by marriage.

And the queen
of England by right!

Elizabeth is bastard and has
no right to the throne of England.

A woman who consorts
with her horse master.

Now must I bear

my hope and fear

of love in her

waking.

Beautiful, Robin. Beautiful. You
write songs as well as you sing them.

Your Majesty, the composer of such a
melody rises far above my poor talent.

I came across the tune when I was
looking through some old manuscripts...

at the Greenwich Palace.

- I thought it might amuse
you to hear it. - Who wrote it?

It is said that your father composed it
for your blessed mother, Anne Boleyn.

- Before they were married.
- Oh?

It is also said that when he
asked her how she liked it,

she countered by asking him
how his wife liked it.

By God, my mother had the courage of 10,
and so have you, you whore son!

A message for the queen!

Message for the queen!

From Sir William Cecil,
my lord.

Your wife has been found dead.

Of a broken neck
at the foot of a staircase.

I grieve for you,
Lord Robert.

Lady Dudley was alone in her
house. There is talk of murder.

You will leave the court at once
and not return until I send for you.

Now will the great
scandal begin.

Now will my enemies rejoice.

What do your spies at court say the
Spanish ambassador made of this news?

- He remains silent.
- And the French ambassador?

- He exults.
- And says?

And says?

That soon he will see Mary
Stuart on the English throne,

for not even the Protestant English will
support the bastard and usurper Elizabeth...

when she marries her horse master Dudley,
who has killed his wife...

to make room for her.

- He is innocent.
- Let him prove it.

When I was in great danger in my late sister's reign,
he did not desert me.

Your Majesty, you are in great danger
now from Mary Stuart and the Catholic cause.

Mary Stuart? She's safe
in France for a lifetime.

Is she?

They say her husband
has fevers of the brain.

If he should die,
what direction would Mary turn?

Remember, her mother rules
as regent in Scotland.

Mary Stuart's mother
does not rule in Scotland;

She tyrannises Scotland
with a French army.

She forces the Catholic faith
down Scottish throats.

Half her nobles are Protestant
and in open rebellion. Rule, you say?

She barely survives. I fear neither Mary
Stuart in France nor her mother in Scotland.

Nor your own Catholic nobles who live in the North,
hard upon the Scottish border?

Why should I?

They are not persecuted.
I am no tyrant.

Scotland is the back door
to England.

It must not be unbarred by a
scandal in the English court.

If you protect Lord Robert Dudley
and seem to condone a murder,

the Northern lords are going to
believe that next you will marry him.

The rumour is everywhere.
They are certain to rebel.

Bring him to trial in
open court. Hide nothing.

It hurts! It hurts! It's like
burning arrows in my brain!

His Majesty!

Please, Francois, come in.
Please, come in.

No, no, no.
I will ride from the pain. It goes when I ride.

- Please! Francois...
- No, no!

I must!

Francois, please!
Francois!

Francois!

- Bring me a chair.
- Apportez une chaise.

Please come back inside,
Your Grace.

I must keep vigil for the king.

Almighty God, if you love Francois more than I do,
then take him to you.

But take me as well,
for I have no wish to live without him.

- Your Majesty.
- Who goes there?

A Scottish lord.

Lord Bothwell,
emissary from your brother Lord James Stuart,

regent of Scotland.

James?
No, my mother is regent.

Madam, your mother is dead.

Your mother is dead.

No!

I was sent ahead by your
brother to prepare you.

Whatever James Stuart says to you,
remember this, madam:

There is terrible disorder
in your land.

The clans already
fight for power.

- This is my land.
- You're needed in Scotland, madam.

Francois! Francois!

Enough!
Against my will, my son married her.

Now he's dead.

- She is the cause.
- Oh, no!

I'll rule here until my
second son is of age.

If you defy me, my lords,
I will not only banish her from the court.

I will exile her from France.

Brother, help me.
What must I do?

You were always so kind to me. When we were
children together. Tell me what to do now, James.

Mary, if you wish it, I will take you home
to Scotland and there you will rule as queen.

You have no need of
foreign marriages or armies.

But would the people
of Scotland love me?

Tolerate the new religion, Your Grace,
and they will give you their hearts.

- She shall not!
- Uncle, I must.

I cannot live out
my years in exile.

I must believe there is hope
for a new life in Scotland.

Will you help me,
my lords?

- Your Majesty.
- Your Majesty.

My lords.

- The usurper Elizabeth will be my neighbour, yes?
- She will.

Well, then, I will make a new beginning
with her as well as my Protestant subjects.

I will travel to Scotland
through England.

I will go to the court of
Elizabeth and win her friendship.

Never! I will have no
dealings with that lady,

and I will use force, if I must,
to stop her returning to Scotland.

That is unwise,
Your Grace.

Explain.

Because, Your Majesty,
if we do not bring her to Scotland,

subservient to
a Protestant court,

she will soon arrive with a Catholic army
at her back; Her uncles will see to that.

If that happens,
she'll soon be knocking on the back door.

And what will prevent
her doing that now?

Are the Protestant lords of the
congregation in Scotland so devoted to me?

Madam, I am first among them and I am
devoted to peace and order in our two lands.

Once we have her safe in
Edinburgh there is no further danger.

Mary Stuart will rule in name;
I will rule in fact.

If you value my friendship,
you will keep that promise.

Then she shall come home?

Yes, but not through my realm.

Duc De Guise, madam.

Uncle Francois!

Mary.

Is it from Elizabeth?

She... She refuses me safe
conduct through England!

- She hates me.
- She fears you.

She says,
"Renounce your claim to the English throne..."

You'll renounce nothing,
neither your voyage home to Scotland...

nor your true claim
to the throne of England.

Quite right, brother.
That is the ruling of Holy Mother Church.

Madam, you are the English queen.
Elizabeth is bastard and heretic.

You're right!

Who is this priest, Uncle?

He is Father Ballard,
your new chaplain and confessor.

- An English priest?
- There are no longer Englishmen...

or Frenchmen or Scotsmen.

There are in all life-and-death
Catholic and heretic.

- Only a fool thinks otherwise.
- I shall not forget it.

And this is David Riccio,

a singer from Italy.

I have travelled far
to serve you, Your Grace.

And we have far to go.
Walk with me.

Only two sorts of men?

Which sort are the English
priest and the little Italian?

The priest is a Jesuit serving only you,
the true Queen of England.

You may trust him
with your life.

The singer is the
agent of the Pope.

Yours will be
a Protestant court.

You need a safe and secret
way to your real friends...

Ourselves in France,
Philip in Spain...

and His Holiness in Rome.

Riccio is the way.
Let him seem to sing for his supper.

Promote him, slowly,
and trust him.

He speaks many languages
and he's expert with cyphers.

Andrew!
Move those lazy whoreson peasants...

before I take the flat
of my sword to them!

Lower your voice, my gracious lord.
The sound of it is hard to bear.

Then you must stuff your delicate ears,
madam, for you're going to hear...

many like it in Scotland when you've left
the twitterings of the French court behind.

If that is an example of Scottish wit,
we're in for a bleak winter.

Lord Bothwell, we now sail
direct to Scotland.

Oh? That will be a rougher voyage
than the Channel, madam.

I'm not afraid of the sea,
my lord.

We shall next meet at the Port of Leith,
Your Grace,

where I shall have your white horses
fit for your triumphal ride into Edinburgh.

Shall I ride in triumph?
Will all be well?

Well...

there's only one question,
Your Grace:

Will you rule the Scottish lords,
or will they rule you?

I shall rule the lords.

I wish you then,
Queen Mary Stuart,

a fair journey.

Ride out!

Adieu, Francois.

Goodbye, dear France.
Goodbye.

I never thought to be sad
at returning home.

It's so long
since we all left there.

Sad? Dear Fleming, now it comes to it,
I welcome Scotland.

There will be two ships...

The queen in one and
Bothwell as escort in the other.

- So? - Your sea captains can
take Bothwell's ship here.

Why? It will provoke French
anger... and Scottish... to no purpose.

If I am to keep my promise,
we must cage Bothwell. He's dangerous.

With him to help her,

Mary might find a way to finish
me and rule Scotland alone.

- But he is no papist.
- He's worse.

He's an atheist who mocks God
and fears no man.

His pride is his loyalty to the Stuart Queen,
and he cannot be bribed.

Cannot?

I hope we catch him alive,
my lord.

I'd like to study such a rarity.

Where are we,
in the name of God?

I don't know, Majesty.

The Captain swears this is
the charted landing place.

Listen!

Jamie!

Good health to Your Majesty.
Welcome to Scotland.

James, what has happened?
Where are my people?

For five days fog has lain over land
and sea. You were not expected so soon.

- But you are here.
- We rode hard when the warning gun fired.

Your loyal lords of the
congregation welcome you.

Oh, I understand.
Then soon the royal guards will be here;

The carpet for me to stand upon,
the canopy; There will be gun salutes.

No, madam. There will be nothing.
We can waste no money on idle show.

- Aye.
- This is not France.

God bless Scotland!

And God bless the Scottish queen
who is so near her throne at last.

My lords of the congregation.

You do me great honour to
ride in such haste to meet me.

My good brother
shows great wisdom...

that he wastes no money
upon ceremony.

Aye.

Good brother,
I embrace you for your wisdom.

And before these lords,
I name you my chief minister.

God save the queen!

I thank you, dear sister.
Bring the horses.

Bring the queen's horses!

These are not mine. I will
wait till mine have landed.

Your stable was taken
by the English.

Taken? How can that be? They are on
the other ship. Bothwell has them safe.

His ship was captured. It had no
safe conduct through English waters.

Elizabeth's ambassador
has already complained to me.

- And Bothwell? Is he dead?
- They have him, safely.

It is only three days since the two
ships parted company in the fog,

and yet, you, brother,
know everything of its fate...

and the fate of Lord Bothwell.

Even the fastest horseman could not
ride from London to Edinburgh in three days.

Will you mount, Your Majesty?
It's a sharp morning and we must move on.

Faster! Faster!
Faster!

- Well, Robin?
- My wife's death is judged to be an accident.

I am declared innocent,
Your Majesty,

despite all efforts of Cecil's
spies to find evidence against me.

Then you are indeed innocent.
So you may return to court.

- If you permit it.
- I order it.

And I order you to take
the apartment above my own.

I feel I will have need
of your advice... constantly.

If you will have me
constantly at your side,

then marry me, my love.

In this land there will be
but one mistress and no master.

Then, madam, I will come no more to court.
I will leave this land.

You shall not!

You are my master of horse.

When they jibe at me
in Catholic courts,

they say the horse master who mounts the queen
so freely would now put a bridle on her.

You dare to talk to me
of marriage!

Forgive me.
It was my delight in seeing you again.

You are a commoner whose head itches for a crown.
Attend to your common business.

Keep the Scottish queen's horses well.
It may suit me to return them one day.

The Scottish queen.

There's a pretty widow
for an ambitious lord.

Your Grace?

I said, "Robin, you shall
dine with me tonight."

And we will keep each other loving
company until the morning light.

There you are, Sister.
Your palace at Holyrood.

Mary Stuart!

God struck down your mother
and he will destroy you!

- Who is this man? - John Knox,
madam. The leader of our church.

- Of your church, not mine, Brother.
- Hear me!

I have prayed that this queen would
die before she set foot on this land.

See what she brings with her...
A priest!

Better she had come
with French troops.

She will comfort the papists
we have driven from this land.

Monks, friars, priests, nuns...

and all such filthy persons.

One mass is more fearful
than 10,000 armed soldiers!

Not to me, sir!

You defend the mass?

I defend the church of Rome,
for that I think is the true church of God.

- Ride on. - No. I will hear with
patience your ugly words, John Knox.

For you, like all my subjects,
shall have the free use of your conscience.

- And I of mine!
- Ride on!

Papist whore.

- You have humiliated me.
- You shall keep your religion, Sister.

But I suggest you are a
little more discreet about it.

- Am I to rule here?
- We must have no illusions, you and I.

We shared a father
in James V of Scotland,

and I came out on the wrong side
of the blanket.

It is the fate of bastard sons of
kings never to be kings themselves.

This I accepted long ago.

I'm not ambitious for your crown.
I'll resist any man that tries to take it from you.

- You are the queen.
- I am the queen, but you are to rule.

I want you to be happy.

You shall have dancing and hunting,
music and good eating.

But leave the troubles
of state to me.

Come, Mary.

A secret way
to the royal apartments.

Follow me.

Your bedchamber.

I persuaded your uncle
the cardinal...

to permit me to bring from
France all your personal belongings.

I thank you with all my heart.

Here you will dine
and take your ease.

Hmm.

And this is where
we will hold council.

Your presence chamber.

Prepare yourself, and in an hour I
will bring all the lords of Scotland...

and present them to you.

You have made a good beginning.

But remember,
be discreet and consult me in all things.

There will be a private chapel
for the practice of your religion.

Stay out of the public eye, priest,
and do not provoke the lords of the congregation.

And, Mary, you may travel if you wish.
Scotland is a fine land.

I thank you, dear brother.

Dear sister.

Did you hear him, Davie?
Did you hear him?

Run away and play, he tells me,
as if I was a child. Davie, I am trapped.

- Not yet, Your Grace.
- He has me in a cage!

Then you must appear to sing
sweetly and happily, madame.

I cannot do that forever. The
lies stick in my throat. I hate him!

He is learning to trust you.

When he trusts you, he will become
careless and then you will have him in a cage.

- Davie, I have no army, no treasury,
no allies. - You have allies.

Your uncles first among them. They will
solve your problems by finding you a husband.

- A great prince with an
army at his back. - A Catholic...

to deal with
the good James Stuart.

Then you will march south...
to England.

- First let us secure Scotland.
- Is it possible?

- Certainly!
- Then I will marry quickly.

I will not drag out my days
in this barren land.

Did you smell those
fine Scottish lords?

Mother of God!

And to think my sweet mother
endured all this for my sake.

Marriage, then,
shall be our policy.

The marriage of Mary Stuart
to any Catholic prince...

will be treated as
an act of war against England.

Tell that, my lords ambassador,
to your royal masters.

We will have no foreign power
upon our Northern border.

We realise that our sweet young
cousin in Scotland has been deluded...

by dangerous
and self-seeking men.

So now we offer
a wise and just solution.

We have a plan
for the marriage of Mary.

We offer our most loyal and loving subject,
Robert Dudley,

to Mary Stuart in marriage.

And we shall tomorrow
create him Earl of Leicester...

that he is more worthy.

Hmm.
Mary will not take it.

She will rage against
the insult as they do.

No, madam,
I must object again most strongly...

against this proposed marriage
between Mary and this gentleman.

- My God, it is not my choice to go north
to that barbarous country. - It is mine.

A commoner,
a Protestant and the subject of scandal and rumour?

- My choice.
- However, I shall obey with a better heart,

knowing that I am opposed
by Master Cecil.

You are not suitable!

My duty is to foresee the result of
English policy and convince the queen.

What you judge ill for me must benefit me.
That is the lesson of our past dealings.

And you can feel
a crown upon your head.

It is you I love.
Only you.

Then marry Mary.

For only when she is married to a
loving subject of mine will I be safe...

from the assassin,
the fanatic and the rebellion in her cause.

And she will take him, because I will
send with him the thing she most lusts after:

The promise sealed and witnessed
of the English throne at my death.

Go prepare for your journey. Go quickly,
before my heart wins over my head.

Sweet Majesty.

Her Majesty
will regret this day.

If you think Robert Dudley
will put aside his ambitions...

- Do you really believe she will not take him?
- I do!

Good. For I do not
intend her to have him.

Though I mean the world
to think I do.

Oh, no, William. She shall not
have the brave and faithful Robin.

I have someone quite different in
mind as a husband for Mary Stuart.

But first, with your help,
I must find a suitable ambassador to bait the trap.

Out. Do not bolt the door.

Good sir, I'm told
you cannot be bought.

Ah, you're Cecil.

You give gold
to Scottish traitors.

You are penniless because the
Lord James Stuart has sold your lands,

and you may remain here in the tower
until your death; You have no friends.

I've long had it in mind
to kill you.

I have it in mind
to release you.

The price?

That you speak honestly
to your queen from mine.

Here is the deed of succession.

Nothing is hidden.
I freely offer her the crown.

After much thought I consider Mary
to be the just and rightful claimant.

There is no signature,
Your Grace.

There will be.

When your sweet mistress takes
the noble Earl of Leicester in marriage,

she guarantees peace
between our two realms.

Then I will sign
this sacred promise,

and she will inherit all here...

After my death, which, pray God,
will not be too soon. Amen.

And I am to take your offer in
secret to my queen. That is all.

All.

And as a gesture of my sincerity,
I am sending with you Lord Henry Darnley.

Not only will he see you
safely back to Scotland,

he will bear my personal
greetings and gifts to your sovereign.

Ah! He will return to Her
Majesty her fine stable of horses.

Lord Darnley is also a cousin,

a member of one of England's
oldest Catholic families.

He has a royal claim by blood to
England's throne second only to Mary's.

Oh, he is the finest flower
of our nobility...

Gentle, brave and chivalrous.

Are you ready, my lord?

Ready, Your Grace.

God give you
a good journey, my lord.

I charge you to tell our Cousin
Mary it is our deepest regret...

that these fine horses
were taken in error.

Say to Her Majesty Elizabeth
most abjectly begs her forgiveness.

- Trust me, Your Grace.
- I do, good Henry.

To fulfil all my hopes.

Farewell, my lords.

Darnley looked beautiful,
did he not?

I wager you 50 gold crowns
Mary will take him.

Madam, it is too serious
a matter for gambling.

Cecil, you may be an expert in matters of state,
but you know very little of women.

Mary is a young widow.
Her blood is hot.

It is a strange thing.
I feel I know her.

We have never met,
and yet I... know her.

Your reasoning is beyond me.

If I were in her position, would I take the
cast-off lover of my enemy as a husband?

No, madam!
You'd be full of fury.

And would I, in my pride,
ignore the document of the act of succession...

and look elsewhere for a
husband to spite my enemy?

- No, madam, you would not.
- No, I would not. But she will.

And supposing at this time
there should come to my court...

a beautiful young man
on a white horse...

with some claim to the English
throne and a Catholic to boot.

Would I not look
upon him with favour?

But with Dudley comes
the future crown of England.

No true monarch would turn her back on that,
not even Mary of Scotland.

- That monarch is first a woman. - You would
never ignore such an offer for a pretty fellow.

This woman is first a monarch.

Ah. Here comes Robin.

Madam, you are wrong.
Now I am certain.

No woman would choose the boy
before the man. I will accept your wager.

Fifty golden crowns she chooses
Dudley and the succession.

If she chooses Dudley,
then we are safe from foreign Catholic princes.

Though I admit,
it will be a hard price for me to pay.

If she takes Darnley,
we have given nothing...

and she has a weak,
degenerate fool as her consort.

Win or lose the wager,
I cannot lose the game.

Harry! Harry!

Oh, my love, my love!

Don't move!

Be still.

What a happy fall
to have such comfort afterwards.

There are tears on your cheeks.

I saw again the death
of my husband, that's all.

- I beg you, my lord.
- Leave us!

- Robin!
- I am rejected.

She rejected me!

She kept me waiting five days
without an audience.

She flaunted herself before me
in the company of Darnley!

She dances with Darnley. She dines
with Darnley. She rides with Darnley.

- And has rejected you?
- With insults!

Encouraged by Bothwell,
your honest messenger.

She spoke of me openly as your cast-off
lover and far beneath any true queen.

She must be demented. Before my eyes
she tore up the document of succession.

And she consorts with that boy.

That lewd, mincing, pouting boy.

And by all the saints, madam,
she is a woman that needs a man.

Hmm!
What kind of a woman, Robin?

- Formed like a goddess.
- More than I? Is she better formed than I?

- No, no, madam.
- Does she dance more elegantly?

- No, but with a certain fire.
- Oh, she's fiery?

I'd heard she was very dull
and sits by the hour sewing.

Does she play instruments
more skilfully than I?

No, but to do her justice,
she loves music.

Can she converse freely in Italian,
Latin, Greek as I can?

No,
but she speaks most charmingly.

She charmed you.

This woman,
who has offered me the most deadly insult,

charms you, my lord.

- Oh, no, no, no.
- I find her tiresome.

Liar!

- Oh! Madam! Madam!
- Liar! Liar! Liar!

You were as eager as a young lover to ride to her,
to wed her and bed her!

I went only at your command.
I love only you.

Well, you have played your part.
I cannot complain.

My part?

Oh, it is her loss
if she rejects you.

Oh, how glad I am
to have you home.

Now, tell me truly.
I am no longer angry.

Is she really as
beautiful as they say?

Well, she is quite beautiful.

- Oof! Oh!
- Get out!

I have it in me to send you to
cool your passion for her! Get out!

Out!

May it please Almighty God
she hates me as I hate her,

for then she must marry Darnley
and I have won.

You seem very rich,
Davie.

I am valued.

- No, you are hated.
- But not by you, sweet Harry.

The commoner.
The detested little foreigner.

Ah.
You are jealous of my influence.

You must speak for me, Davie.
I will be king here.

I have the right to be a king.

All the Catholic nobles of England
will support Mary's cause if I am king.

But you are vicious, Harry.
You have a taste for all the vices.

- I thought you loved me.
- I love the queen better.

And I think it a cruel act to
help put you between her sheets.

You want to keep me
between yours.

Oh,
Edinburgh is full of pretty boys.

And like you, I have a taste for a
woman as well. I shall not lack comfort.

We are outcasts in this court.

No man is your friend, save me,
and no man is mine, save you.

Like it or not, sweet Harry,
we must hold to each other.

- Signor Riccio, la Regina Sta Venendo.
- The queen!

- Working, always working.
- I could not sleep.

- Nor I. Davie, you must advise me.
- If I can, Your Grace.

Is it not true that all our hopes for my
freedom through marriage are dashed,

because we are told if
I marry a foreign prince...

- there will be war with England?
- It is true.

But...
what if I married an Englishman?

- Englishman?
- Harry Darnley.

Answer me! Is he a good match?
Will the Holy Father give his blessing to us?

I cannot deny it.

I believe it is God's will. Both wise policy
and my deepest longings are fulfilled in him.

I love him! It is the good
fortune of queens to choose...

where other women
must wait to be chosen.

I choose him, Davie. He will be my husband,
my lover, my companion.

- And your master, if you make him king.
- No, I am the queen.

He will be my consort.
He will understand that if he loves me.

Who could fail
to love Your Majesty?

But will the Scottish lords
hate him, Davie?

No more than any other
foreigner set over them.

What will James say?

Oh, what a fine king Darnley will make.
I must have him.

Pray for me, Davie.

- Does she often visit you at night, Davie?
- We work here in secret.

Is it only for state
matters that she comes?

You have the mind
of a brothel keeper.

Did you not listen at
the door to find out?

I listened,
but the door was too thick.

- Harry.
- Hmm?

If I speak for you
with the queen,

will you at all times give
her first place,

acknowledging her the
true monarch of this realm?

No. I will be the master.

Then I will oppose you.

"I choose him, Davie."

- When will she find the courage to ask me?
- Do not betray her!

- I warn you. Listen to me!
- No, listen to her!

"I must have him, Davie."

Oh, she shall have me,
and I shall be the master.

Kiss the hand of your king, Davie,
and I will forgive you for your little warnings.

Kiss it, Davie.

Come.

Kneel to me.

Kneel!

Say,
"I will love and serve you, King Henry."

Say it, Davie.

It is in God's hands, Harry.

But you are reckless
to scorn your only friend.

Now the sly little Italian
will try poison against me.

He will whisper in her ear.
He will plant doubts.

He fears to lose his place.

It's not in God's hands,
Davie.

It's in mine.

Admit the Lord James Stuart.

Madam, what is so important
that I am summoned from council...

and then kept waiting
at your door?

Dear brother, I wish you
to make preparations...

for my marriage to Henry,
Lord Darnley.

I forbid that.

He is a Catholic,
and neither I nor John Knox...

John Knox? That hypocrite
who's just married a girl of 15?

That aged lecher who hides
behind the words of God?

Madam,
you forget yourself.

No, I do not.
You shall not prevent my happiness.

I will marry Henry,
Lord Darnley.

I'll speak to you again when
you have more control of yourself.

Guards!

It was a bad day for you, James,
when you sold off my lands.

From this moment, I alone rule in Scotland.
Now who is caged, Brother?

David Riccio, I choose you
as my chief minister.

James Stuart,
I banish you from my kingdom.

Give your keys and seals
of office to Master Riccio.

Riccio, you are a Catholic.

Be sure that you are confessed
and in a state of grace each hour.

For from this moment, I promise you,
death is at your shoulder.

Truly,
I am of the old religion.

And we shall have such
a rebirth of it in this land...

as will rejoice
the hosts of heaven.

Your Majesty.

If you value your safety,
either imprison or execute him.

I will not take that advice.

But I shall give it to you.

When he has gone,
the other lords will bow to you.

But in time, when he returns, they will
join him again for bloody revenge on all here.

I will not begin my reign
like a tyrant.

Escort my brother to the border
and return as soon as possible.

We must prepare for
my marriage to Lord Darnley.

And with my body I thee worship.

And with all
my worldly chattels...

I thee endow.

And with all my worldly chattels,
I thee endow.

In the name of the Father...

In the name of the Father...

and of the son...

- ...and of the son...
- and of the Holy Ghost.

- ...and of the Holy Ghost.
- Amen.

Amen.

I'm so happy
I dare not speak of it.

What is that?

A gift, Your Grace,
from my lord Bothwell to the queen.

The jewel from the hilt of his sword,
Your Grace. It is all he has of value.

Return it.

Lord Bothwell bade me tell you
when you have need of the sword...

from which this jewel was taken,
then send me, Andrew, to summon him.

Yes, I will,
good Andrew.

Harry, look.

If you keep it,
you do not love me.

Ooh-ho!
I love you dearly.

Then do what I ask.
I demand it... as your husband.

I may not, for then you would rule here, Harry.
That cannot be.

You shall rule above all others,
save the queen.

I am the king!

I will be obeyed!

I am the king!

On the night of his marriage,
a king shall be served by his lords.

Morton, Ruthven, Huntly,
you shall serve me.

Come. We will show this queen
who is the master.

Your Grace.
I am the chief minister. I will serve you.

I will kneel to serve you
if you wish it.

Let these good lords continue
their pleasure on this happy day.

No.

No, they shall serve us both, Davie.
I order it.

- I, your king, order it.
- No, Your Majesty...

I order you to sit
with me, Davie.

This is your reward for speaking
to the queen for your loving friend.

Come, my lords!

All servants, get out.
Get out!

We have better servants here.

Sit by the queen,
Master Riccio.

It is your right,
for you are the chief minister.

My lords.

You see how I am obeyed,
madam.

I see how you will behave if you were
ever granted the crown matrimonial...

and become a king
in your own right, my lord.

They obey me. When the queen is served,
serve the chief minister.

Serve him before me.

Serve the little Italian
who is the Pope's friend.

Now their hatred for you
will be so great, Davie,

they'll have none left for me.

My lords, soon I will be
abed with this lady.

My queen.

Therefore, I drink a toast
to my firstborn.

Ahh!

Your Majesty.

Uh, be seated.

I sent for you to
thank you for your gift.

Why are you leaving Edinburgh?

Now that you've chosen a king,

it's time I left the court
to care for my own affairs.

But I need you here,
Bothwell.

But, my lady, you now have
a husband to protect you.

He will lead your army,

put down such of your lords
as intrigue against you and, uh,

make wise policy,
I have no doubt.

Do you oppose my marriage?

I never oppose the rightful
monarch. I've grown poor in the habit.

- I will not be mocked.
- Mocked?

I could not find words
to mock a queen of Scotland...

who chooses a smooth-faced boy
as her master...

and a baseborn Italian
as a chief minister!

Go then!
Leave the court! Stay from it!

Bothwell.

You have grown poor
in my service, you say?

- I have.
- You shall be paid off, my lord.

I can manage
well enough without.

Spare me your arrogance!
I will give you money!

Ah, keep it to buy suits
for your husband.

Why are you angry?

Do you fear you are displaced?
Are you jealous?

You could say,
Your Majesty, with truth,

I am jealous.

Then you are foolish.

I need your help,
Bothwell,

to keep order in this country.

And in due time,
we will march south.

We will destroy
that heretic Elizabeth,

and I will rule my two kingdoms as I
was ordained to do, if God is willing.

Will you stay at court
and help me?

I will return when I have
settled my affairs on the border.

- When?
- When I have married for money, Your Grace.

Married?

Not without my permission,
my good lord. I promise you.

Why tell Darnley?

No, ma'am.

Now I know who is king here.

This upstart.

And you come
creeping to him at night.

That's not my child you're
carrying. It's his bastard!

The child is yours,
God help me. The child is yours!

You have both betrayed me.
That's why he speaks against me.

You're not fit to rule!
That's why I oppose you.

- I am your enemy, not the queen!
- Now go. You disgust me.

I disgust you?

You loved me.

You loved me
and now I disgust you.

I'm lost.

I'm lost.

Hawk master!

- Your Majesty?
- What is it?

The king,
Your Majesty.

Mary!

Keep the others
at a distance, Seton.

The queen bids you rest.

Mary!

Mary!

You must return at once!
At once!

Why are you shouting?
Are you drunk as ever?

No! No, forgive me, Mary,
for there's a plot and you must return.

Plot? Are you ill? I would like to believe that,
for then I could forgive you...

the bitter shame and pain you have
caused me these past few months.

Your own guards turned me back
from the royal apartments.

When I drew my dagger on them they,
they threatened to kill me! To kill their king!

You are not the king.
You are the king consort.

You are merely Henry,
Lord Darnley, who married a queen.

If that queen dies, you will be Henry,
Lord Darnley again and have no rights to the crown.

It was you. You ordered
them to keep me back!

- Yes. Your habits disgust me!
- You have shamed me.

- The whole court will ridicule me, madam!
- Then leave the court!

- I am forbidden your bed?
- You shall never come near me again.

Ride home, my lord.
You have new apartments.

That little bastard Riccio's
behind this. I will be revenged!

I will be revenged!

Oh!

Don't kill me.
Don't kill me!

Stand up,
Your Majesty. We are your loyal subjects.

We believe you are much wronged,
Your Grace.

- By God, I am.
- The papal spy, Riccio, has bewitched the queen.

- There is talk of their meeting in his
room at night. - State business, they say.

They say you are cuckolded,
my lord.

- Lies!
- It is an unnatural thing for a woman to rule.

And it is most unnatural that the great
lords of Scotland shall sit in council...

to be lorded over by the little
papist... when there is a king in the land.

You mock me. I'm not the
king. I'm the king consort.

A puppet king...
shut out from all power. You know this!

We, your loyal subjects,
will make you the true king.

We, the council, will grant you
the crown matrimonial to rule here.

To be the first in the land.
This is done, Your Grace.

You will rule
even if the queen is dead.

To King Henry I
of Scotland and the Isles.

Long live the king!

And what must I do to gain the prize,
my lords?

Embrace the Protestant faith and
defend it against all papists in this land.

- The queen is a papist.
- All papists.

I agree.

We have drawn up this covenant.

On our part,
we pledge you the crown...

and that we will pursue and slay and
root out all who oppose this resolution.

You will cut Davie's throat?

There is no word of killing
in the bond.

And if need be you will kill...
one other?

We have all signed the bond.

Then no man among you
dare betray the other.

It's a good Scottish custom.

- It lacks one signature.
- On your part, you will hold us innocent...

and defend us even in the
presence of the queen herself,

no matter what action
we have to take.

- Is that all? - You will pardon
and recall James Stuart, Earl of Moray.

- Agreed.
- Then sign, Your Majesty,

and hasten the great day
of your coronation.

- One further condition.
- Name it.

That you will kill Riccio in her presence
when I am there to see the deed.

She must come to no harm...

before that moment.

- Is this true?
- That is a copy from our ambassador.

Everyone in the Scottish court knows of it,
save the queen and her Italian. Everyone.

And her loving husband has put
his signature and seal to it.

- He has.
- So much for marriage.

The Lord James Stuart
is ready to travel to Scotland.

- So? - He must have money.
To hold the lords he must pay them.

- Then let him find it elsewhere.
- But, madam,

everything that you
hoped for has happened.

Now we must support
our Protestant friends.

That is a murder bond drawn up by
treacherous subjects against their queen.

Where is my name on it?

Where does it say that Elizabeth of
England shall pay the wages of assassins?

Your Grace, it was you
who sent Darnley to Scotland.

But the rest was in God's hands.
I leave this to him also. Come, Robin.

The lady is with child.

A child that could one day
be King of England.

How long must I live under
the shadow of this other queen?

I desire her to be
without power but not dead.

By God.
If it were not for policy,

I have it in me to ride north into her very
palace and warn her of what is to come.

Madam, these Scottish lords
are set upon a certain course.

It is as wise for us as for them
that they pursue it to the end.

Then let them find
the means elsewhere!

Majesty!

Majesty, if you would but marry me
and bear a child yourself,

then her shadow would be
lifted from you.

Master Cecil, pay James Stuart 3,000 crowns
in gold and send him home on a fast horse.

Let the gold coin be of any kind
save that which has my head on it.

I will have no knowledge
of her death. See to it!

Almighty God,
I thank thee...

for the endless ambition
of Robert Dudley to be king...

and for the many times it has
provoked the queen to wise policy...

against her will
but to Thy glory.

Amen.

- Where are they?
- In the turret.

Elizabeth was so demanding
of the gentleman's affection...

he dare not be reconciled with his own
wedded wife for fear of the royal anger.

Why are you here?

If it please Your Majesty,
let Davie Riccio...

come out of this privy chamber
where he has hidden too long.

It is by my command
that he is here.

- He has offended your honour.
- Your mind is full of fantasies. You have a fever.

Escort Lord Ruthven away
and lock the doors.

Lay not hands on me!

Guards! Guards!

- Oh, God!
- Save me! Save me!

In the name of God,
I beg you!

Save me!

- No!
- Riccio! Kill him!

Stop them.
Harry, stop them!

This is from the king.

- Judas!
- Now, now, Your Grace.

Speak gently to His Majesty.

- I will never rest until you have a
heavier heart than I have now. - Be silent!

I have that in my belly
will be revenged on you all!

- If you live!
- Silence!

My lords! Do not threaten
the heir to Scotland.

He shall be born,

but we will keep this queen
imprisoned from that time.

Imprisoned from that time?

This good king shall have the
whole government of the realm.

The heir we will bring up
to the Protestant faith.

And you shall be
a perpetual prisoner.

The child.
I believe it is the child.

Harry. Oh!

Help the queen to her bed.
Take her gently. Gently.

- Harry. Harry!
- With all care. Place the covers over her.

My lords,
give us privacy!

If the queen is in labour after these dreadful events,
then there must be calm.

Yes.

Come, my lords.

- I will stay.
- The palace is guarded.

You have chosen your way, sire.
You must follow it to the end.

I have chosen.

Oh, Davie.

Davie.

The king is there alone,
but the outer door is guarded.

We must escape tonight
or we are lost.

And we must
take my husband with us,

- or the lords will use him to seize the crown.
- But, madam, how?

I must make that traitor,
my husband, into a double traitor.

Find Andrew. If Bothwell
could bring us horses...

Be brave.
God will watch over you.

- Harry.
- What's become of your pain? Why are you here?

Forgive me, Harry.

Our child is still alive.
It is not yet time.

I have never betrayed you. But I have
wronged you and I beg your forgiveness.

- It's too late.
- No, I swear it is not.

You shall be the king without
being elected by those murderers.

But I'm in terror for you,
Harry.

Those murderers will butcher you when
once they have our child safe in their keeping.

What can I do?
What can I do?

Harry, don't be afraid.
I know what to do. Trust me. Trust me.

Hurry!
For God's sake, hurry!

Harry, will you wait?
I cannot go so fast for fear I miscarry.

Miscarry if you will. We can
make another when we're safe.

- Father, Davie...
- I know. Lord Bothwell is waiting.

Can you ride a horse?
There's no coach or litter.

- Yes, I can ride.
- Come.

- Have we enough horses?
- Aye, madam. You shall ride with me.

It will be safer,
so tuck up your skirts...

and hurry.

But if we're caught,
they'll cut us into collops and feed the dogs with us.

Andrew!

Welcome to Hermitage,
my sanctuary, madam.

Thank you,
my lord.

- Are you all right?
- Indeed, I am.

And in good spirits.
Come. Let us go in.

Who is this lady?

She was the Lady Jean Gordon, Your Grace,
daughter of the richest of Highland lords.

- Was?
- She is now Lady Bothwell.

Welcome to Hermitage castle,
Your Majesty.

- Married? You are married?
- Yes, madam.

I...
Oh, lord...

I...

Help me!
The child is coming!

I gave you no permission
to marry, my lord.

Take her in quickly.

- Well?
- Scotland has a new prince.

Oooh!

Oh, no!

The queen of Scots
is lighter of a fair son.

And I am but barren stock.

I kept it from her
as long as I dared.

But the defeat of the Protestant
lords of Scotland forced me to speak.

- They are defeated?
- Yes.

Bothwell raised an army
and put them to flight.

Ruthven, Morton and Huntly have
come over the border for sanctuary.

Stuart is under siege at Dunbar.

Stuart!

Aye.

Rouse yourself, James.
Do you hear the pipes?

It's your loving sister come to
put a rope around your neck.

Your Majesty,
the rebels are defeated. Dunbar is yours.

The queen has triumphed!

Where is my brother?
Is he dead?

No. I've saved him
for the scaffold.

Then let him make his will and say his
prayers for I shall hang him before tonight.

You cannot hang me
without killing your husband.

I took no part
in Riccio's death.

- Liar.
- But your husband was there.

He signed the murder bond
with the Scottish lords.

- It is a forgery.
- It is a copy.

The original is
safely hidden in England.

No court will condemn me
without him.

And even you,
great Queen,

cannot act
without due process of law.

Then by God,
I will act with it!

It will give me great pleasure to
see you both on the same scaffold.

Bothwell,
let us do it now.

Will you split the kingdom?

End the Stuart line?

If you accuse brave Harry,

he will shout from the rooftops
that your child...

is Riccio's bastard and
that you were Riccio's whore.

And that the killing was the
just execution of a commoner...

who had committed high treason
by cuckolding the king.

- No!
- We do not need the law.

Your brother will have died
of his wounds in battle.

No.
For myself, I care nothing.

For the shame, I care nothing.

But I dare not give the heretics
of Scotland and England...

a case to use against my son.

And I will not risk
his inheritance,

even for the pleasure
of your death.

Scotsmen, here is
your future king,

James VI of Scotland!

And in good time,
James I of England.

I am the queen
by right of birth...

and right of arms,
and tyranny I detest.

I practice the old religion,
but I tolerate the new.

I rule in God's name,
so I rule in justice.

The better part
of justice is mercy.

Therefore, on this great day
of triumph I shall be merciful.

I pardon James Stuart,
Earl of Moray.

Before you all, he shall be reconciled
with my husband and Lord Bothwell.

Not I.
He hates me.

Not as much as he hates me,
Your Grace.

Put a good face on it for policy's sake.
We are deceiving the people.

Take my hand, sire.

A man who first betrayed the queen
and then betrayed his fellow conspirators...

must be glad of a friend.

So I will and wait impatiently for the day
when one of you will slit the throat of the other.

Or yours.

Leave me go!
Leave me go!

I have had enough!
Everywhere I go, I'm shunned.

People look through me
like I'm a ghost!

I will not be made to feel
guilty over a scrap of paper!

- Get to your bed!
- No, madam.

I will go to your bed.

Either that,
or I leave the country.

I shall go to Italy, to the Pope.
He will annul our marriage.

I shall tell him you were so eager
that you forgot the dispensation...

- which cousins must have to marry.
- Traitor!

Annulment will make
your son a bastard.

I know. I know.

And she would do anything
to save her son's inheritance...

as the future king.

So come to bed,
sweet wife.

Bothwell!

Aye.
Leave us!

And quickly.
I have a great appetite.

Oh, for God's sake,
smile, madam.

And bring me some wine.

Even though I disgust you,

you will love...
and fondle me...

and have me by your
side again as king.

As I mount you,
so shall I mount the throne.

- Have you killed him?
- No.

- I came to do you that service.
- He's drugged.

- He's diseased.
- Diseased?

Since before the birth of the prince
he's been vagabonding at night.

He is poxed.
He will rot with it.

Merciful God.

An honourable end
is better than this.

Bring back the lords in exile.
They will bring him to account.

Bothwell.

"I have departed the court
with my Lord Bothwell.

"You will await my return.

"Husband, there are certain lords in
England who have been punished enough.

"The lords who murdered Riccio.

"They are therefore pardoned
by the mercy of their queen.

Soon you shall meet them again."

I am betrayed.

We brought him home
to lie in Scottish soil.

At his deathbed
we swore vengeance.

So let us decide which of us
will kill the king in combat.

He is sick of the pox.
He cowers in his bed. He'll not fight.

The we'll drag him out
and kill him as we did Riccio.

Nobody cared about the death
of a little foreigner.

- Everyone will care about the murder of a king.
- His...

His Majesty has a house
outside the wall of Edinburgh...

- where he took his whores and his young men.
- Kirk O'Field.

He plans to murder Mary Stuart
in that house.

He has filled the cellars
with gunpowder.

He means to go there
with the queen...

and make his excuses to leave
her for a few hours and then...

Blow her up.

With a choice of knife, gun, poison, rope,
why would anyone choose gunpowder?

Nobody chooses gunpowder,
Stuart, in these hard times.

Nevertheless,
the cellars of Kirk O'Field...

are full... of gunpowder.

His Majesty is a notorious drunkard and fool.
Also, he is sick.

I think that he will bungle
his attempt on the queen...

and blow himself up.

Can you help us?

Bury your dead.
Leave the rest to me.

The next he will
lord it over us.

For a while,

a very little while.

So we are safely arrived
at Kirk O'Field.

I have obeyed you,
my love,

because I believe that he is
condemned to death by the pox,

which is the wrath of God
upon his vile nature.

So what is planned is no sin.

But God forgive me
if I do wrong.

And after your divorce
we shall be man and wife,

and you shall be
no puppet king but the master.

For the first time
I am loved and fulfilled.

I have turned my back on God for you,
so be true to me, my love. Be true.

- Andrew.
- My lord?

Get the ready.
We leave for Edinburgh.

- There is work for you to do.
- Aye, my lord.

- It is time to leave, Your Grace.
- You promised to stay.

It is Fleming's marriage feast.
I must go.

I will return.

Why do you keep Davie's guitar?

Why do you play it?
Is it to anger me?

No, Harry, but I never forget
those who are loyal to me.

Davie's dead.
Let him go.

Yes, it is just a year.

No. Pity me, kinsmen.

For the sake of Jesus Christ,
pity me!

He was to have an honourable death,
to be challenged to a duel.

Death is death,
however it comes.

Now we must look to our future.

The ambassadors of France
and Spain, Your Majesty,

and of Scotland.

We are mourning
the late King Henry of Scotland.

We mourn because
the Scottish court does not.

He was once our subject.

We are shocked at
his abominable murder.

We are astounded
at what followed.

The king was taken at dead of
night and buried without ceremony.

His clothes, his goods,
his horse and his armour...

were given to Lord Bothwell.

Voices cry out
that Bothwell is the murderer.

The Scots have risen
in rebellion.

Catholic and Protestant,
lord and peasant...

combine to destroy
the tyrant Bothwell.

And yet Queen Mary Stuart...

has married him.

It was once said
in Catholic courts...

that Elizabeth would
marry her horse master...

who had murdered his wife.

Then her people would
turn her out in favour of Mary.

I have not married.

Leicester is innocent.

My people did not rebel...

and Mary Stuart
does not rule here.

Tell your masters do not interfere in Scotland,
nor will I.

Let the Scottish queen settle her
own affairs as I once settled mine.

How she longs to hear
of Mary's death.

And how she dreads it.

No! No! No!

What is it?

A dream.

A dream?

Be thankful it's not James
Stuart knocking on the door.

I am full of fears,
waking and sleeping.

All my forces
will be here by day.

I sent the messengers
three days ago.

Do not be afraid.

It's all right.
It's my Borderers. It's dawn.

They're all 'round us.

We can hold them
till my men come.

Bothwell! Bothwell!

Show yourself.
Or are you afraid?

I will speak with him.

I am here, Stuart!

Tell Her Majesty to come down to us.
We have no quarrel with her.

- It's you we've come for.
- I will not go down.

Bothwell, have you the courage
for single combat?

Or will you go on hiding
in the skirts of the queen?

I am not a sick man
like the king you murdered.

- I will cut him to pieces!
- No, I will not let you go.

I will not be shamed,
Mary!

Our forces will be here
within an hour,

and then I will see you hanged
from these walls.

You waste your breath.
Roy!

There are your messengers.
Come now and fight!

That I will.

Andrew!
Andrew, bring my armour!

And when he comes down,
we'll cut his throat.

Jamie,
you must not go down.

They will kill you
as they killed Davie.

I will fight.
I will finish it this time.

When I go down, you must leave
by the secret way out of here.

- No. - It leads beyond the castle
ground. Andrew will guide you.

- Let us go together, I beg you.
- You will not be seen.

I will not be dishonoured!

My dear love,
who remembers the honour of the dead?

You are no match for the
treachery of these times.

Seton! Seton!

Mary, I beg you.
Do not disgrace me.

Listen to me. Your death
will be mine. You must escape.

Rouse the Borderers yourself.
I am still the queen. While I live, I reign.

- Do not do this.
- Goodbye, my dear love. Go now!

Give me courage.
Come with me and look down on those traitors.

Soon we must open the gates
and give ourselves up to them.

God help us.

I shall watch the combat
from here, Brother.

You shall not wait long. My husband
is determined. I cannot dissuade him.

The deed...

of your abdication.

It is the will of the lords...

and of the people...
that you sign it.

I will never abdicate.
I am the queen.

I will die the queen.

Huntly.

In this casket are your
letters to Lord Bothwell...

that prove that
you are a murderess...

and that you led the king
to his death.

Abdicate or I will publish them
and have you tried for murder.

No.

The Lord Bothwell will not
be coming to your aid, lady.

He did not escape.
I have him.

It's not true.

And tomorrow...
I shall hang him.

No! No! No! No!

I... No! No!

Will you sign
the deed of abdication?

Never.

Jamie. Jamie!

- Mary, my love.
- Jamie!

Jamie.

I thought you were dead.
They told me you were dead.

No.

Your brother saw an advantage in
keeping me in this world for a further time.

They will pardon me, spare you,
give me a passage to Denmark...

if I can persuade
you to abdicate.

- Oh, Jamie!
- Listen to me, Mary.

I'm an ambitious man, hungry for life,
but I do not fear death.

The only thing I fear
is what can happen to you.

The Scottish lords demand
your trial and execution.

Your brother wants you out of
the way alive before it is too late.

- He lies. He wants me dead too.
- No, above all, he's a Stuart.

He'll save you if he can.

If you abdicate,
he'll see you safe to the English border.

Our deaths or separate exile.
Jamie, there's no choice.

I can't exist without you.
I cry for death.

No!

You are Mary Stuart,
the queen.

Remember what you said to me.

While you live there is hope.

Cling to that.
We shall not be separated.

One day I shall return
for you with an army.

Until then,
my love,

I hold you close to my heart.

Well?

Death or exile?

The English border
is two miles from here.

I bid you farewell.
We shall not meet again.

So you must hope.

Long life, Sister.
We will bring up your son a good Protestant.

My son, my son!
God help him.

Seton,
in this little time...

until we reach the English border,
we are quite free.

Free.
How it eases the heart.

And I have good hopes I shall overcome
all and be united with my Bothwell.

I am but five and 20
years of age.

I have my whole life before me!

Free! Free!

God help us
if Cecil finds out about this.

Do not fear, madam.
No one will find out.

The Catholics of the north...

have flocked to pay her homage
since she came over the border.

At Carlisle, she held court.
Is she mad to behave so blatantly?

I fear I may have
misjudged her all these years.

She has never
learned discretion.

Is it discretion for me
to meet her in secret?

It is imperative. It is said you
have a wolf by the ears, madam.

Well,
let us look at the animal.

Stay here.

- Sweet cousin.
- Dear sister and cousin.

I am here to meet you
as you so urgently demanded.

My business can only be
discussed between us face-to-face.

I know you to be the enemy of all
rebels against their rightful prince.

Indeed, madam,
you are right.

The crime of my lords against
their anointed queen is so great...

it buries all past differences
between us.

I am confident of your help.
I ask it as a right.

I see that you have courage.

And I see you are the great
queen of whom all speak.

And you are young.

Not too young to ride
at the head of an army.

You have come
to ask me for an army?

- Yes, an army, supplies, money.
- And money.

Which I shall most happily repay to
you when I reign once again in Scotland.

How else may I aid you?
Be open with me, dear cousin.

For be assured there is no waking hour in
my day when you are far from my thoughts.

Your fate is linked with mine.
We are princes both. We are joined by blood.

- What else have you to tell me or to ask of me?
- Nothing.

- Nothing?
- What else could there be?

Some helpful word concerning
the murder of Lord Darnley.

Yes, of course.

Rest assured, Elizabeth, that
I am innocent in the matter.

That gives me great joy.

For when you are honourably acquitted
of the crime of which you are accused,

then you shall have your
army and your money.

Cousin, put it out of your mind that I
came to England merely to save my life.

I came to recover my honour.

If you dare to doubt my word that I am innocent,
then I will go at once to France.

- You shall not.
- Madam, in the past...

you have sheltered those very
traitors who now rule in Scotland.

They entered freely into England,
just as freely they returned.

Do you offer me less
than my treacherous subjects?

Am I your prisoner?
If so, by what law?

If you forbid me to go to France,
what will you do with me?

I shall take you deeper into
England for your protection.

- Then I am your prisoner.
- If you are innocent, what have you to fear?

You have deceived me.
You are in league with my brother.

I will answer no accusations.
Who is there who may try me? Who is my equal?

Will you do it? In public before
the eyes of the world? No.

You lack the courage. You hope to
dishonour me. It is you who are dishonoured.

Did you believe I would send you back
to Scotland at the head of a great army?

Did you believe I would sacrifice
my reputation on your behalf?

It is not enough, madam,
to speak one's mind in season and out as you do.

That is not the conduct
of a queen.

It is the outpouring of a pampered
woman demanding that all indulge her.

It does not surprise me that you are here,
helpless, and that your brother rules.

You are not fit for the high
office to which you were born.

And you, madam, who hate me
and wish me dead...

and fear to kill me,
you are my mortal enemy.

I have noted since the day you
denied me a passport through England.

All the blows you have
struck against me.

I glory in your hatred,
for it is clear to me...

that Elizabeth the bastard, the heretic,
the usurper, is cursed by God,

and will soon be too old to bear a
child and will die a solitary old woman.

Above all, it is clear
that Elizabeth fears Mary.

And whatever my fate,
my son will rule here in time.

You have noted all the blows
I struck against you.

- All.
- All save one.

It was I who sent Henry,
Lord Darnley to your court, sweet cousin.

- Darnley?
- Any queen who could be gulled...

by such a pretty, wicked fellow and take
him to her bed and put a crown upon his head...

does not inspire fear.

She inspires pity.
You have my pity, madam,

as you had it on the day
I sent Darnley north,

knowing you to be without wisdom,
discretion or any of the attributes of a queen.

I see you have learned
nothing since.

It is not surprising that you are
spoken of in the courts of Europe...

as an infamous, royal whore.

Madam!

My lord, I urge you to guard your mistress
well for there are many who would wish her dead.

Now I have no choice.

I must keep her prisoner
until the day of her death.

May it be soon.

Madam, there is an English officer
from the French court to see you.

Yes.

Sir.

I bring you greetings, madam,
and some letters which, I must tell you,

I have already shown to the authorities here,
for I am a loyal Englishman.

Very well. Leave them.

No, ma'am. I'm ordered
to wait for your reply.

No need to waste time
on these, Your Grace.

Father Ballard!

Up. Up, Your Grace.
There's work to do... work of great danger.

- Mistress Seton, do put an ear to the
door and give us warning. - Aye, Father.

- This is from King Philip himself. He has a
new plan against Elizabeth. - Another?

We've been shut up for years,
and no help from him.

- This one is different. Read the letter, madam.
- Very well.

What news have you
from Scotland?

How is my dear son James?

I've written to him ever since
I judged him able to read,

but not one reply
in all these years.

He is well enough to write
regularly and cordially to Elizabeth.

Well,
he is his father's son, after all.

The letter, Your Grace.
Read it quickly.

Just one more question.

Have you any news of
my husband, Lord Bothwell?

Lord Bothwell has died insane
in a Danish prison.

Oh, Father.

Now I do repent of all my actions that
have brought him to this terrible end.

Then will I hear your confession,
my sovereign lady?

Yes, Father Ballard,
it is time.

We need safeguards.
The risk is great.

It follows the pattern
of similar plots,

particularly the one
in Northumberland.

It would be sensible, madam,
to order her immediate execution.

No.
I will not have Mary killed.

Why am I driven to bloodshed?

In all the years of my reign,
the scaffold has rotted from disuse.

Until Mary came into England.

Leave us.

Madam, I beg you.
Open your eyes.

Since the Pope has excommunicated
you for keeping Mary prisoner,

your Catholic subjects
have been torn in two.

Whom should they serve?
Pope or Queen?

They risk the block in
this world if they rebel...

and hell in the next
if they do not.

Keep this fact
always before you.

It is now no sin to kill you.

To the Catholics,
it is the act of a saint.

I am ill!
I will hear no more.

Destroy Mary,
and all problems wither away.

No. I fear her execution.
It threatens me.

She is an anointed queen
as I am.

- If I bring you proof that she
plots to kill you? - No.

Written proof?
Irrefutable proof?

- Is there such proof?
- There will be.

William!

No forgeries. The evidence must stand
up before the people in the Parliament.

It has always been,
from the beginning,

her death or mine.

No, Walsingham.
That priest will die before he speaks.

Babbington, Tichbourne,
Charnock and Gerrard.

We have them all.
It was a great conspiracy.

Yet the absolute proof that Mary is
personally involved we do not have.

You are wrong.

This good fellow is from Spain.

We caught him with Ballard,
but he carried a letter in Mary's own hand.

She endorses the murder of
Elizabeth as the mainspring of the plot.

Now we have her.

"To His Holiness, the Pope."

From King Philip of Spain.

From... an English gentlemen.

And another.

And yet another.

Madam, you cast an evil spell
on all you meet, save me.

And now, my lord?

It has taken me years
to trap you, madam.

Now you will come to justice.

No matter the evidence, I fear a terrible
retribution if I sign her death warrant.

Your Grace,
until you decide,

she must be shut away where
no more traitors can reach her.

- Where will you send her?
- Fotheringay Castle.

Jesu, that evil place.
My heart goes out to her.

I have brought you
proof positive.

If she begs forgiveness of me,
she shall live.

Fotheringay.
Am I to be murdered here?

As you see,
despite your efforts, I am not dead.

Forgive me. I must sit.

The bitter winters of
my imprisonment and the damp...

that runs down English walls
has entered my bones.

My council, my parliament
and my people...

demand that I bring you
to trial.

Like your father to your mother,

will you permit me the sword
and spare me the dull axe?

Madam, do not play with me.

From the moment of your imprisonment,
I have lived in constant fear of assassination.

Your assassins, madam.
Your followers.

I have forced myself to walk in
the open freely among my people,

and I have never known at which moment
the pistol or the dagger will do its work.

So make no jokes with me
about death.

I am very tired.
Tell me what you want and then go.

I want to spare you,
but you must beg my forgiveness.

You must write it now while I am here,
then I will forbid the trial.

Yes.

I knew of the plans
for your death.

I was glad of them.

But now, in this room,
as I look at you face-to-face,

it is another matter.

I am glad you have been spared.

I will be happy to ask your forgiveness
here between these four walls.

That is not enough.
Write it.

No. It would damn me forever
in the eyes of posterity.

I will keep the letter quite secret from all,
save my chief minister.

I am offering you your life.

I long for the trial! I long
to stand before the world...

after these years of
darkness and defend myself.

I thank God, in His mercy and wisdom,
He has brought me to it.

I shall die a martyr to the Catholic faith,
the true and eternal faith.

Nothing can prevent it.
No man is my judge.

Not even you, madam,
may judge me now, only God.

How little you have changed.

How wildly you rush
to your destruction.

Your letters to Bothwell,
madam.

Will you appear a noble Catholic
martyr when these are read to the court?

What will the world think when, after the details
of the plots to murder me are revealed,

we turn to the past?

Your life is steeped
in blood and violence.

The actions which led to your disgusting
marriage to the murderer Bothwell...

will be fully recounted before
the court and before the world.

Hmph. Your absurd love letters will
be read out for the people to gloat upon.

Will all this evidence of treachery,
cruelty and lust rise like a hymn of praise to God?

Or will it cast you down
forever?

Oh, God.

Write one short page to me,

and I will spare you the trial
and you will live.

For the first time in your life, put aside your
personal desires and behave like a queen.

Think of your son, who will one day
rule these two kingdoms, and do as I say.

No. You cannot tempt me.
You are the devil. I will not succumb to you.

Jesu!

In all my early years,
I was misled and betrayed.

I sinned most grievously.
I lost my faith.

I will deny nothing to you here in this room,
madam, for I have repented of it all.

I have made my peace with God.

I begged Him that I might
atone for all that has gone before.

And He has brought me here
to die in glory.

I was greatly punished.

My kingdom, my possessions, my child,
my husband were all taken from me.

I've been shut away for many years in abject misery,
and now I must die.

It is my destiny. And it is your destiny,
Elizabeth, to kill me.

I leave to you
the pomp, the power,

the intrigue and all that a
prince in this world must endure...

or may enjoy.

Nothing you can say or do
will avoid my martyrdom.

So now it is I who pity you,

for you cannot avoid ordering
the thing you have always feared...

more than death itself:

The judicial murder
of an anointed queen.

It will torment you
to the end of your days.

Robin!

My lord, I shall pray for
your mistress, Elizabeth,

at the moment of my death.

Madam, if your head
had matched your heart,

I would be the one
awaiting death.

Lord,
I put my trust in You.

Do not let me be confounded.

It is time, madam.

No, do not weep. I'm happy.
Yes, I am. I'm happy.

Goodbye, dear.

You have been so faithful to me.
I do thank you.

Pray for me.

"In you, Lord,
have I put my trust.

"For you, Lord God,
are the thing I long for.

"You are my hope,
even from my foes.

And become as it were, a monster unto many,
but my sure trust shall always be in you."

"Oh, let my mouth be
filled with Your praise...

"that I may sing of Your glory
and honour all the day long.

"Forsake me not when
my strength fails me.

"Go not far from me, God.

My God, hasten to help me."

"I will go forth in the
strength of the Lord God.

"My lips will be fain
when I sing unto you...

and so will my soul
whom You have delivered."

- Forgive me, madam.
- I forgive you with all my heart.

I thank you even. I hope this death
shall put an end to all my troubles.

For in my end is my beginning.

Lord, into Your hands,
I commend my spirit!