All language subtitles for Les.Rois.Maudits.1972.S01E06.PAL.DVDRip.AC3.x264

THE ACCURSED KINGS

By MAURICE DRUON
from THE FRENCH ACADEMY

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

THE LILY AND THE LION

Directed by
CLAUDE BARMA

York.

All the kingdom's dignitaries,

the bishops, the parliament,
500 knights invited,

and 100 noble Scottish
came into the cathedral,

among a numberless and filthy crowd,

to assist the marriage
of Edward 3rd of England

and Philippa de Hainaut,
her cousin.

Here I take thee, Philippa,

to my wedded wife,

to have and to hold
at bed and at board,

for fairer for fouler,

for better for worse,

in sickness and in health,

till death do us part,

and thereto I plight thee my troth.

Give your right hand.

In the name of the Father

in the name of the Son

and of the Holy Spirit,

Amen.

Fall down, Madame,
at the feet of your husband.

for receiving the coins.

The people will love him.

This love she predicted,

Isabella got it as a wound.

From now on, Philippa was going
to be the queen.

Her time was gone.

Meanwhile, in France,

no brains in his head,

no heart in his chest,
nor entrails in his belly,

Charles the 4th, Philip the Fair's
last son, is embalmed.

He widows Queen Jeanne,
his third spouse.

She is pregnant up to her chin.

If it is a boy, he'll be king.

If it is a girl,
according to the Salic law,

due to whom
her brother Philippe became king,

the crown will go to the male relative
closest to the trespassed monarch.

This relative is Philip of Valois,

son of that Charles of Valois

who searched so hard a throne
without ever getting it.

He needs, if he ever wants
to take the scepter,

to seize, as far as now,
the kingdom's government.

Robert of Artois, his brother-in-law,

tries himself the same thing.

To Philip of Evreux
he offered the Navarra,

to Louis of Bourbon
the recognition of titles and lands,

to Guy of Blois the redemption
of the right to coin money,

to the Count of Flanders he swore
to regain his county by force,

For Eudes of Burgundy,
Robert of Artois abstained.

The duke took as wife
Mahaut's little daughter,

and aims at Artois County
with a rapacious look.

Everything seems to go according to the
perfectly concocted plan of the red baron.

But, at dawn of the day when
the council of pairs should take place,

an English bishop arrives
at the palace.

I came to bring you the words
of the king of England,

the duke of Guyenne.

In the name of my master
I have to declare

that the closest relative
of the defunct king of France

is Isabella, his sister,

and that the regency,
on this account, must be hers.

If the crown could belong to a woman,
this surely wouldn't be your queen.

But nobody else than little Jeanne,

and the regency should go
to her husband, here, Mgr. of Evreux,

or to her uncle,
here by my side, the duke Eudes.

Come on!

It seems that today everybody
is hasting to deny himself!

I see Madame Mahaut,
my beloved aunt,

ready to grant to Jeanne of Navarra

precisely the rights
that once she denied to her.

I see the noble bishop from England

to avail himself of the acts of a king
that he tried hard to unthrone,

for weakness, carelessness
and treason!

Come on, sir Orleton!

One might not remake a law
at any occasion of applying it.

Nor by the will of each party.

We love and respect
Madame Isabella, our relative.

whom some of us helped and served.

But her request is inadmissible.

If we admit, not to return
to an applied law,

that a woman can't reign,

then it's not in the name of queen
Isabelle that I ask the regency.

But in the name of her son,
King Edward III,

the only male descendent
from direct lineage.

What they say?

Messire bishop claims the crown
for Edward, his king.

Never!

France will never belong to England!

Come on, Bretagne! Come on, Blois!

Come on, Nevers! Come on, Burgundy!

You admit to hear such a thing?

We have a king to inhume,

the sixth among those
I've seen passing away.

All of them had to rise host
against England.

Who governs France
must have French blood!

And cut out with these fudges
that make even my horse laugh!

I give you my advice,

as the eldest:

the count of Valois,
as closest to the throne,

should be proclamed king, guardian
and governor of the kingdom.

- He spoke well!
- He spoke well!

He spoke well.

On the Good Friday, 1st of April 1328,

Madame Jeanne of Evreux,
Charles 4th the Fair's widow,

brings into the world a little girl.

This is why Philip of Valois becomes
Philip the 6th of France.

And Reims witnesses a new coronation:

the 4th within 14 years.

The She-Wolf of France bowed:

England is poor.

In order to go pay the homage
due to the king of France,

young Edward 3rd

had to borrow
5,000 Lombard pounds from London.

At Amiens,

peers, barons, dignitaries
Groom and adorn themselves

to take part at the ceremony
Which should confirm Philip

in his position
Of first sovereign of the Occident.

Well, I'm dressed with dignity.

It would even be a pity not having
been made peer of the kingdom.

Since the robe sets me so well.

And I even want to inaugurate it.

Due to the recognition
of my royal cousin,

before all the dignitaries gathered,

and before Mahaut the female,

I'll make my right blow out.

But that woman, Robert,
who must bring you the pieces,

- are you sure she'll be in time?
- Of course, of course.

And even if this would not be
this morning,

I'll still present my request.
I arranged it with Philipp.

- Moseigneur!
- Yes!

The lady you are waiting for is here.

Show her in.

The papers! Give them to me!

I don't have them, Monseigneur.

How come you don't have them?

You assured me
that you'll bring them this morning!

I came from the castle of Hirson,
where I was introduced yesterday.

I went to the chest
built in the wall...

And?

It was empty.

Fine. Excellent news!

And it took you, for such an exploit,
to make me wait a whole month!

Do not cheat me!
You came from your own will!

You should give me the papers which
would give me back the Artois! I'm waiting!

And today I was supposed to present
these two papers to the king!

The three papers, Monseigneur.

The marriage treaty
of Count Philip, your father,

the letter of Count Robert,
your grandfather,

- and the letter of Mgr. Thierry.
- Even better!

The three of them!

And you claim the chest was empty!

And you think I believe you!

- Monseigneur!
- Tell me, Divion,

lest you thought
playing me a prank?

You want to squeeze me even more,
or you betrayed me to Mahaut?

Monseigneur, what do you imagine?
Countess Mahaut?

who stole me all Mgr. Thierry
left me by his will?

I wish her all the evil
you can do to her!

Just think, Monseigneur:

12 years I used to be
Thierry's mistress,

so many pointed the finger to me.

And yet, a bishop is a man
like anyone else.

Just tell me the truth, woman.

- You have never seen the letters.
- Oh yes I have, Monseigneur!

At the Hirson castle,
the day when Thierry has fallen ill.

"My Jeannette", he said, "I want to
forewarn you against Madame Mahaut,

"as I did with myself."

That's when he told me everything,

how the letters, sealed, were retired
from the registers to be burned,

but Thierry had kept them in a chest,

with a note of himself
certifying them.

And he gave me
the key of the chest!

My visit
probably seemed them suspect,

perhaps they discovered the chest
and forced the lock.

It was Beatrice, most likely.

I'll never see those letters anymore.

- Monseigneur...
- Yes.

Those letters...
we could easily remake them.

- Remake them?
- Since I know exactly what's in them.

I know them by heart,
I could reproduce you

almost word for word
Mgr. Thierry's letter.

Monseigneur...

- Yes, I know.
- The king's ready to come downstairs.

Alright, I'm coming.

We shall see each other, woman.

But take it easy.

A king's son

can never kneel
before a count's son.

Let's see, Mgr. Orleton:

Last year, you were in France

to claim that I had more rights

to the throne of France
than my cousin of Valois.

And now you accept that now I throw
myself on my knees in front of him!

Lord Mortimer has at heart
the peace with France.

My lord bailiff,

you're here to protect me, I guess,

not for giving me orders.

Lord Mortimer is our good friend,

but he's not the king.

- I won't pay homage unconditionally.
- That is the custom, sire.

It doesn't allow me
to respect my duty.

So, my lords,
have you given it a thought?

What if would happen that,
in the middle of a war in Scotland

the king of France would claim me
for a war of his own,

in Flanders, Lombardy or elsewhere,

should I leave all behind
to come joining him,

otherwise he'll have the right
to take back my duchy?

This can't be!

Go tell my cousin, King Philip,

I won't pay him total homage.

So be it. Let him pay me
the simple homage.

I agree with him. If I were in
his place, I should do the same.

Sire,

I become your man, through the duchy
of Guyenne and all that belongs to it,

which I declare I got from you,
as duke of Guyenne and peer of France.

Sire, you become
man of the king of France,

for the duchy of Guyenne
and its belongings,

that you admit you got from him,
as duke of Guyenne and peer of France,

according to the treaties concluded
between our predecessors, kings of France,

and yours,

and for what you and your ancestors,
kings of England and dukes of Guyenne,

have made for the same duchy,
towards your predecessors, kings of France.

Indeed.

The king, my master, welcomes you.

And now, cousin,
we shall listen the mess.

Sire,

sire, since all your vassals
are gathered here,

and that to everyone
you owe justice,

it's justice I came to ask.

- So, cousin, somebody wronged you.
- An injustice was made to me, sire,

by your vassal,
lady Mahaut of Burgundy,

who holds unduly,
by guile and treachery,

the titles and possessions of the
county of Artois, which are mine,

through the rights of my fathers.

Come on, it had to happen.

Can you present evidence and
testimony to justify your claims?

- I can.
- He can't. He's lying.

My aunt! So you deny
that the marriage treaty

of the noble count Philip, my father,

made me, as first born,
the inheritor of Artois?

and that you made a good use of
my childhood, when my father died,

to dispossess me?

- I do deny!
- Do you deny that there was a treaty?

I do!

Monseigneur bishop,

deign to bring here the Holy Gospel,

and present it both to the
complainant and to the defendant.

Do you agree, the one, as the other,
my cousins,

ensure your statements under oath
on the very holy Gospel of faith,

before us, your suzerain,

and before the kings, our fathers,
and all the peers here assembled?

I agree.

I agree.

Take your gloves off.

I swear

that the county of Artois is mine,

and that I'll bring
letters and testimonies

which will re-establish
my titles and possessions.

My good nephew,

do you dare to swear that you
ever saw or had these letters?

Yes.

And you, my dear aunt,

do you dare to swear
that such letters never existed?

and that you have
never knew of them,

and never had in your hands?

I swear.

Tomorrow already, commissioners
will be appointed to investigate

and to clarify my justice.

He who lied
will be punished by God.

He who told the truth
will be re-established in his rights.

In the 17th day of June
of the year 1329,

we, Pierre de Vilebresme, knight,

and we, Pierre Tesson,
king's notary,

- came here to listen...
- Pierre Tesson is him?

Yes, Monseigneur.

The same Tesson who until now was
attached to Mgr. Robert of Artois' hotel?

The same, Monseigneur.

And now you're king's notary?

Very good, very good,
I congratulate you.

- Mgr. of Artois has a lucky hand...
- We came to listen

the high and mighty seigneur,
the Count Hugh of Bouville

and we have been listening him,
as usual, in an open place,

in his house's orchard,
not far from Pré aux Clercs.

This seigneur of Bouville
declared us with his voice

that, while he was chamberlain
of our King Philip the Fair,

when he haven't become king yet,

found out about the marriage treaty

concluded between
late Mgr. Philip of Artois

and Madame Blanche of Bretagne,

and that he hold the above
mentioned treaty in his hands,

and that in the above treaty
it was registered

that the county of Artois would accrue,
by rights of inheritance,

to the above said
Mgr. Philippe of Artois.

And after him, to his first born males
issued from the mentioned marriage.

I said that?

I had the treaty in my hands,
yes, I've said it

to Robert of Artois himself, when
he paid me a visit, the other day.

But I never claimed I read it.

Why did you keep it before
your eyes if not to read it?

Well, to take it
to my master's chancellor,

to seal it.

Because the treaty was sealed,
I remember well,

by all the peers to which
Philip le Bel belonged himself,

as first inheritor of the crown.

This must be registered, Tesson.
All the peers put their seals on.

Even not having read the letter,
Monseigneur,

you knew well that the Artois legacy
was assured to Count Philip

and his first born males?

So I heard, but... I haven't red.

In this case, let's rectify.

The count of Bouville declared us
that he heard speaking...

- Shall I continue?
- Yes, of course.

and he certified us that the treaty
was even placed in the Court registry,

and also claims
that it was later stolen

from the above register
through evil manipulation

and under Madame Mahaut's orders.

Geez, I'm getting old badly.

I don't remember saying neither that,
nor having spoken of Madame Mahaut.

You certified that the marriage treaty
disappeared from the register.

- I just heard talking about it.
- And who had a stake in it,

if not Countess Mahaut?

Oh, of course, countess Mahaut
is capable of anything.

Of anything.

I know it just too well.

Where do I sign?

Here, Monseigneur.

Very good!
Very good piece of evidence...

This Count of Bouville
is really a brave man.

You're skillful, master Tesson.

You should be ennobled.

Master Tesson... of the Quibble!

It will sound very good. I compliment
you for Machaut's deposition too.

More true than the truth!

The deposition is entirely false,
Monseigneur.

Yeah, I see, I see.
But even Machaut doesn't know that.

He's avenging a dead man, and put
a lot of imagination to it.

This way, Enguerrand de Marigny,
on his way to the gallows,

declared he received 40.000 pounds
from my Aunt Mahaut

in order to win his process
before the king.

That man was dreaming awake.

First, Enguerrand de Marigny,
whom I couldn't suffer,

was honest.

He didn't even die before his time.

And next, my aunt Mahaut, the bitch,

is avaricious. She would have
promissed even 100,000 pounds,

but she would never give 40,000.

The best false witnesses
are those who cheat in good faith.

Master Tesson, my friend, the king
appointed you at my request,

go on gathering all the evidences.

Nothing is more intoxicating
that the search of the truth.

I'll help you.
Of money and friends I'm rich.

And yet I'm good.

Even if I must be helped

to stay that way.

Mahaut haven't even been seen
this year at the Court.

She doesn't even move,
that dirty old sow!

She's trembling!

I was warned that our investigators
in Artois are traced.

And our witnesses...
visited by others, not by us.

Madame Mahaut
has the support of the queen.

Yes, but I...
I have the king's support.

We should, however,
present the pieces, Monseigneur.

Oh, they will come, the pieces.
They'll come.

By the way, you noted
in count of Bouville's confidences

that the marriage treaty
was sealed by the 12 peers.

- Why? Why did you write this?
- Because the witness said so.

In that case, the witness is very old.

You might not even understand
what the witness is saying.

And that additional phrase
will cost us fortunes.

Well yes, master Tesson!

This famous copy
of the marriage treaty,

the one from the Artois registers,
which I'm waiting for,

if it will be delivered to me without
the seals of the 12 peers of that time,

will not value a thing anymore!

People doesn't realize
how many worries this brings me!

And how do I find
the names of the 12 peers of '82?

For the counts and dukes,
that's a piece of cake;

but the peers from the Church?
Who were they?

I've already told you
to be very careful!

Monseigneur, if you haven't been
such a big baron,

you could have been
the best notary of the kingdom!

No offense.

- No offense, sir.
- Right. Master Tesson,

for having the chance of gathering
such a great experience, use it well.

And bring me beautiful
and... sincere tokens.

We will be grateful.

Jeanne!

Jeanne!

This damned Tesson!

Look who's talking
about the 12 peers of '82!

How to trust some skillless
like this one!

Being forced to make false evidence
to state my truth!

And where to procure
the names of the 12 peers?

In the Saint-Denis monastery
register, my good friend.

My confessor will found them out
without being noticed.

But do you know, my love, that if you
haven't been such an important woman,

you could have been
the best notary of the kingdom?

Why?

Why do you help me so much
risking to compromise yourself?

Perhaps because I love you.

- So, how's it going?
- Look, Monseigneur.

A parchment sheet yellowed into
the sunlight, aged in ashes.

Good.

- And the clerk?
- We bribed him.

- And the seals?
- We detach them from old papers.

We must be very careful
not to crush them.

We heat them a little,
then we detach them with a hair.

This justice jargon scares me.

My namesake claimed this morning
that God knows what clerk

cannot provide me, and in Latin,

the formula used
at the princely marriage treaties.

We must find another proof
than this treaty of marriage.

A piece which we can
more easily forge.

That's it!

- The letter!
- What letter?

Of Robert II, my grandfather,

confirming the dispositions which
assured my inheritance of Artois.

- You know the date of the letter?
- Yes. The 28th of June 1302.

I must summon the clerk.
I want that letter, I need it!

It's a private letter,
thus easy to forge.

This is what will certify all the rest.

Work hard, my dear!

28th of June 1302.

My good gentlemen, my friends,

I've gathered you here
to ask your advice.

It's about my trial against Mahaut

and the recognition of
my inheritance rights over Artois.

I wish us to present
only irrefutable evidence.

A certain lady of Divion,
whom I know too little,

has offered to give me a letter,
among others,

of Thierry of Hirson, whose
little lover, I think, she was.

Yeah. Well, this lady of Divion
asks money, naturally.

The document seems of importance.
However, before buying it,

I want to make sure that I'm not
throwing my money out of the window,

that the letter is good, and that
it can serve as evidence in the trial.

You have experience and
are more skilled than me in writings,

and I would be grateful
if you examine the letter.

Good.

Bring that Divion lady in.

No, no! Examine the seals,
master Tesson.

See for yourselves, gentlemen.

The green wax seal of my master
Philip the Fair!

No, Monseigneur. No,
it's late Count Philip of Artois'.

Now read it to us, master Tesson.

"We, Robert of France,
pair and count of Artois,

"declare, before
the seigneurs of Saint-Venant,

"of Saint-Paul, of Waillepayelle,
knights who will seal

"with their seals, and before our
master Thierry d'Hirson, my clerk,

"that, at the marriage
of our son, Philip,

"we invested him with our county,

"preserving our right of using it
during our life,

"and our daughter Mahaut has agreed
and given up to the mentioned county."

Oh! But it's a capital matter!

It's more that I could expect!

But nobody told me
that Mahaut agreed to that!

Go on, master Tesson.

"... And now, that God called to Him

"our dear and beloved son,
the Count Philippe,

"we demand to our seigneur the king,

"if, during wars,
God does what He wants with us,

"that our seigneur the king watches

"that our son's heirs
should not be disinherited."

"We added our seal too,
in our home in Arras,

"in the twenty eighth day
of June, A.D. 1322."

One thousand twenty two?

But... one thousand and two,
you mean!

The year of count Robert's death!

It's a writing error...

Oh, yes, sure, you're right,
one must read 1302...

Are you entitled
to correct it this way?

Of course, Messire, look:
there are two points under a word;

the clerk use to correct
the misspelled words

that have two points underneath.

Briefly, for you, master Tesson,
the letter is good?

Of course, Monseigneur.

- You, archdeacon?
- I think it's good.

Maybe... you should compare it

with other letters of the late count
of Artois from the same year.

But how do you want to compare them
if Aunt Mahaut keeps all the registers?

No, no, no... I think
the letter is good.

One cannot invent such things.

And especially that Mahaut have
renounced. I didn't know it either.

Ah! They're warning us
there's water, gentlemen.

Let's go wash our fingers.

And then go to dinner.

And you have red it!

And Tesson has read it!
And the Divion has read it!

And none of you weren't capable
to see this '22!

All that work for nothing!

But you too, Robert, have red
the letter once and again!

And you were very satisfied,
so it seems!

Yes, I have read it once and again,
but neither I did see that error!

To read silently and aloud
it's not the same thing.

How could I imagine
we can do such an imbecility!

It had to be that donkey of clerk...

At least it did happen here,

and not while it was red
before the parliament.

At the other documents, my dear,
we'll have to take good care

such errors never happen anymore!

- Robert...
- Yes.

After all, why do you obstinate
this way?

Why do you risk, putting me
and all around you in danger,

to become one day convinced
of lying and forgery?

These are not lies, nor forgery,
it's the truth!

So be it. It's the truth.

But a truth, admit it,
that looks ugly.

All these will end badly.

Come on, Robert, you've got everything:
you're peer of the kingdom;

you're the king's brother, through me,
who am his sister;

why don't you give up Artois?

The Artois?

Give up Artois?

Never!

Do you hear, my dear? Never!

It's true, I'm first baron of France.

But a baron without land!

It's true, I was dignified as peer,

but only because the king
is your brother.

And the king is mortal.

If Philip happens to die,
who says I'll get the regency?

- It's not yet the time to think at it.
- Oh yes, my dear, it's time.

Tomorrow is prepared today.

- And what am I today?
- You're very powerful in the council.

The true power comes from the land.

It is measured but in acres of wheat,

in castles and men of war.

I repeat I have nothing.

I can't raise enough flags
to make all tremble.

We have sons, my dear.
Think of them.

But it's not certain
they'll inherit my brains,

I want to leave them
the crown of Artois,

which is their part
through just heritage.

You are great only if you work
for those who will come after you.

So for the others than yourself.

- Monseigneur...
- Yes!

The Divion dame asks
to urgently speak to you.

That fool! What does she want again?
Isn't she afraid I'll crush her?

Tell her to come in!

Monseigneur, the two women,

the ones who helped us to buy
the seals for the fake letter...

- Well?
- They're in prison,

arrested by Madame Mahaut's sergeants.

May the devil dry your entrails to
all of you, evil men that you are!

Why release them? I apprehend
these two women

who could tell us everything,

I'm sure that Divion, that bitch,
works with them for goddam Robert!

I grab them, and, right after
closing them, they are released!

- By whose orders? Repeat!
- By king's order, Madame.

Come on! The king doesn't care
a straw about two maids

who cook in a suburb of Arras! No!

They were let go by Robert's order,

who ran to the king
to obtain their release.

And who warned my nephew
that I got the women?

Answer!

Monseigneur has left lots of spies
in Artois. You knew it well.

I hope I don't find them
among my close people.

All the evil comes from the fact that
you didn't want to pay that Divion

- my Uncle Henri's will.
- That slut who knew how to slip

- in a bishop's bed!
- Of course, Madame, he didn't do well.

Otherwhile the bishop
used to slip in yours.

I, who served you
for so secret deeds,

which we accomplished together...

How to approach this slut?

How to approach her?

You don't have to be mad at me,
you know, I'm hot-tempered, but...

I know you as a good girl
and I wish you well.

After all, if I have to pay
a thousand pounds...

She's living in Mgr. Robert's house.

The bitch found asylum at the wolf.

I'm offering myself, Madame,
to go see her and talk to her.

- You're risking big.
- I know, Madame.

You didn't expect to see me, I think.

Neither did you, Monseigneur. 'Cos
it's you I was hoping to approach.

Why did you come here?

To let me know my aunt Mahaut's death?

Oh, no, Monseigneur. She lives.

Pity.

Then she's sending you
with a message.

She knows she lost
and wants to deal with me.

I won't deal!

Madame Mahaut doesn't want to deal,
Monseigneur. Because she'll win.

She'll win. Indeed.

She'll win against 55 witnesses.

All agreeing to recognize the thefts
and frauds she committed in my place?

Madame Mahaut will have 60, to prove
that your witnesses are lying.

- Then she paid them!
- At almost same price as you.

The difference is that mine
are leaning on good evidences.

- Good, but false.
- False?!

Are they true?

Then Madame Mahaut is wrong about
the reasons of the big search

of so many seals, now, in Artois...
in your interest.

It's not up to you to interrogate me!

I am asking you why you're here.

- You came to bribe my men?
- Yes.

I came to bribe that Divion.
That we know she lives here.

Ah, but... what an audacity to tell me!

I have more audacity
than you think, Monseigneur.

It's through this cat flap that always
pass the ladies that you receive?

Ah, beautiful one!

You're surely a bitch,
but maybe informed as well.

Your eye is more open than my aunt's.

You realized she'll lose, and you
come to sit on the winning side.

You don't buy my good will
with a smile.

- I have nothing to sell, Monseigneur.
- Then, beautiful Beatrice,

for your safety and salvation,
leave at once.

Don't dream. I know your skills,
my kitchen are well guarded.

My meals are tested.
They taste them before serving.

What are you doing?

What are you doing?

You see, Monseigneur,
I lay a spell on you.

Are you afraid?

It's very unfortunate, Monseigneur.

What are you trying to do with cope,
circle and the three feathers?

Make devil appear?

The devil, Monseigneur.

That's it, it's done.

Because the devil is you.

Do you know
that sorcerers are burned?

They also know, Monseigneur.
Monseigneur the devil.

Well, I didn't kill you, Monseigneur.

Why? Why didn't you?

Because I have better things
to do with you, Monseigneur.

If at the Sabbath is where
you learned all these tricks,

I guess we should have sent
more virgins there!

When I think that we are in a house

which my uncle the bishop
endowed me,

and that Madame Mahaut thinks
I came to meet the Divion lady...

I have to betray you, Monseigneur.

In two months of endearment, you
didn't strangled me, nor poisoned.

Nor did you stab me.

You're losing your touch,
my beautiful one?

Why didn't you ever get married?

The wedding is done at the church.

And in the evening, in bed.

The church is hostile to me.

You see, Monseigneur, the priests
and the pope don't preach the truth.

There isn't but one God;
there are two.

Damn!

The God of light
and the God of darkness,

the prince of Good
and the one of Evil,

like man and woman.

The Evil is the one who lures us
and pushes us to join him.

If that's so, I know who your God is.

Satan!

- You made a pact with him.
- Yes.

You've got more brains
than I imagined.

- Who taught you all this?
- Some old Templars.

Ah! The Templars...

They knew a lot of things.

But remained strong in magic.

All the bad events that stroke the
kingdom came because of the alliance

the Templars made with Satan,

because the Pope
excommunicated them.

- And Mahaut? Does she know about it?
- No.

Otherwise she would chase me away.

Why do you tell me all this?

To me?

Because you, Monseigneur,
are afraid of nobody.

You can get what you want.

Without needing to learn any science.

You... are the devil himself.

- Me?
- Yes. The devil doesn't know

he's the devil.

Beatrice was in love.

Wanting to set up Robert,

she has fallen
under his influence herself.

My dear!

If Mahaut happens one day to die,

I could very well
introduce you into my house.

As my wife's lady-in-waiting.

Because I'll retrieve
the inheritance of Artois,

it would be very natural
to take back my house

with certain persons
from Mahaut's suite.

And so I'll have you always with me.

Till then, she's alive.

And if she knew we meet secretly...

She would burst!

And that's I'm going to do.

To avoid a trial
she will lose brilliantly,

I'll convince the king to convoke her.

He will convince her
to give up Artois.

She'll never accept.

And you know it as well as I do.

However, let's give it a try.

It would be the best issue.

No.

The best issue
is the poison.

My dear cousin,

I don't want to judge what happened
under the previous reigns.

It's for the present I want to decide.

The commissioners
have finished their jobs.

The records aren't in your favor.
Robert will produce proofs.

False. False proofs.

The county of Artois must not be
subject of discord in this kingdom.

I want to see the peace reigning!

So I decided to fix it.

Robert will undertake to pay you
40,000 pounds per year.

I undertake to obtain
acceptance of your nephew.

Artois, 40,000 pounds per year?

Well, if Robert is sure
about his proofs, why pay?

But if he's not sure,
why should I give up?

I refuse, sire, my nephew,
to be so deprived.

And because Artois belongs to me,
your justice will keep it to me.

No trial, cousin!

Even he who wins loses his prestige.

Keep your county, your titles,
your rights, your peer crown,

but I ask you, before me,
in a document signed by the peers,

to invest Robert as heir of Artois.

No!

If your brother, count Philip,
wouldn't have died before your father,

could you deny your nephew would
be today the master of the county?

Thus, for both of you,
the honor remains intact!

Have you heard this fool that
misfortune imposed us as a king?

Give up Artois,
to avoid stinky Robert!

Artois is yours, my girl!

Never! That's the only answer
they'll get from me: Never!

And you? How are you
off with Divion?

You're right, Madame. She spends
her nights in Robert's bed.

Did she tell you that?

It seems Mgr. Robert is good
at bed. A real giant.

What do I care!
My cures! My medicine!

Can't you see I'm feeling bad?
My belly swells!

I'll give you, Madame,
some gubbins jam.

I made it myself.

Mahaut lay a month before she died.

Evening by evening,
Beatrice, little by little,

was pushing her to the grave,

and the more carefree as,
Mahaut not trusting anybody but her,

she accepted medicine
only from her hand.

Beatrice...

poisoned...

- I was poisoned...
- Madame!

Madame, don't say such things.

It's at the king, at Maubuisson that you
had the last supper, before you got ill.

Precisely.

Beatrice...

I'll... dictate... a letter
to my brother...

to order him...

if I have to die...

to go to the king...

to claim the homage for Artois...

and, my daughter...

to order her...

poisoned...

Yes, Madame.

You've been poisoned,

and I won't tell anything
to your daughter.

I did everything,

because I love Mgr. Robert,
and I know he'll make me happy.

Now, die!

Mother!

Too late, Madame.
She leaved us.

Countess Mahaut was burried
at Maubuisson.

Some days later,
Madame Jeanne the Widower, her daughter,

felt like having
a goblet of Claret wine.

It was Beatrice
the one who brought it to her,

and Madame Jeanne the Widower
passed away.

In London,

men are arrested, tortured, hanged.

Lord Mortimer, reigning for the queen,
was the almighty protector of the kingdom.

England was waking up from her dreams.

She feels having exchanged
a bad master too weak

with a bad master too strong.

She wanted Edward II not having died.

Or the king had a brother:
the earl of Kent.

England has begun to look at him.

Speak up.

Speak up!

Are you sure
no one can hear us, my lord?

Speak!

My lord, our good sire,

King Edward II,

is still alive.

- My lord, I saw him!
- Where?

At the Corfe castle.
He's kept there secretly.

King Edward, my brother,
died murdered,

- three years ago, at Berkeley castle.
- He lives!

You're not the only one saying that.

And you saw him,
really, with your own eyes?

- With my own eyes.
- Take good care,

if the news is right, it can
change many things in the kingdom!

The prior of my order sent me there.

I gained the chaplain's confidence,

and I spent a whole day hidden

besides a small house
next to the guards.

In the evening I was led to a big room,
and there I could see the king.

Seated at the table,
surrounded by an honor service.

Did you speak to him?

I was not allowed to get close to him.

But the chaplain showed him to me

from behind a pillar.

He told me...

"It's him!"

Are you the governor of the fortress?

I'll ask you a question.

I expect to get an answer.

King Edward is alive or dead?

I can't answer you, my lord.

He's my brother.

- He's the one you guard?
- I'm not authorized to talk.

A prisoner was entrusted to me,

and I'm not allowed to reveal
neither his name, nor his rank.

Tell me, this prisoner, can you
let me see him from distance?

No.

No, the risk is too high.

A message...
could you give him a message?

"Loyalty and respect
to my very dear brother, please.

"I pray Lord from all my heart
for you to be in good health,

"because measures were taken
that you be released soon.

"Be assured that I have the support
of the greatest barons of England

"and of all their forces,

"namely their troops and money.

"You will be king again,

"prelates and barons have sworn it
on the Holy Gossip."

We must be absolutely sure that
the earl of Kent signed this note.

The seals bear his arms.

My son, I beg you to act
against your worst enemy,

who can disseminate in the kingdom
this tale that your father is still alive,

in order to depose you, and take
your place. And your power.

Give the order to punish
this traitor, while there is time.

Kent will be condemned.

That is what counts, my lady.

It's you, isn't it?

- Me?
- Yes, you.

You sent the monk.

You set up the trap at Corfe.

- You made all up.
- The trap is only making

the crime to be revealed.

The king will absolve him!

If he does, he reigns no more.

But if he doesn't reign,
neither shall you.

You heard it well, the barons are
ready with their troops and money!

Remember, they were all by our side

when we were riding together
to reconquer your kingdom.

Three years, and here they are,
ready to depose your son.

Why I made Edward to be killed?

and Hugh the Despenser
to be thorn in four pieces?

Otherwise, we had to give up England.

But if you let alive
your closest enemies,

do you believe they will forgive
the baby you're carrying within?

What do you still want from me?

The governor of Winchester
will execute your order.

As good as it would come
from the king.

Executed!

- Without my order!
- I gave the order at your place.

It's terrible!

Four strokes of the ax!

If you want to be a queen,
you got to have a hard soul.

For her, I used to hate my father
by the shame he covered her with.

And the kingdom as well.

And behold,
now she puts me to shame!

My own mother!

- Montague, my dear squire!
- Sire?

Mortimer is able
to make all of us perish.

And marry my mother in order
to be recognized as regent.

But this thought is madness!

It's a horrible thing, my lady,
but not a madness.

Sire,

I beg you, my noble king,

no longer tolerate the
insolences and intrigues of a man

who had your father murdered,
who corrupted your mother

and had your uncle beheaded!

We swore this morning,
we, the loyal barons,

to shed up to the last drop
of our blood to set us free from him.

We are ready for anything.

We are waiting your good will.

Montague,

now I know I care a lot about you.

King's order.

King's order.

- Who’s there?
- King's order!

Lord Mortimer! Get out!

Your king is here to apprehend you!

My son!

My son, I beg you,
spare gentle Mortimer!

Did he spare your honor?

Don't harm his body, my son!

He's a fearless knight,
our beloved friend!

Remember that you owe him your throne!

He took himself enough reward
to haste my reign!

Come on, my lords!
Seize him!

Farewell, Isabel!

My queen...

How much we loved each other!

The Parliament of England
convicts Roger Mortimer

to be killed by gallows.

The She-wolf of France
never showed at Court anymore.

The wine is flat!

I hoped you to come sooner,
Monseigneur.

Me too, but I have great worries
which kept me on the spot.

The same as yesterday
and before yesterday...

You must understand that we have
to be much more careful now.

What a good excuse!

You'll come by day, you said,
because by night is too dangerous.

But the nights belong
to the countess, your wife!

- You know I don't get close to her.
- All husbands say that.

Quiet!

I have other worries on my head,
than to listen some women's trifles!

Today I presented my letters
to the Chamber of the king.

All went as you wanted?

Absolutely.

I thought I finished
when I got over Mahaut.

I got you over Mahaut.

- I got over her daughter.
- I got you over her daughter.

And now, it's the duchess of Burgundy,
Mahaut's granddaughter!

the one who claims the Artois
and contests my evidences.

All that come from Burgundy
is slut, theft and lie!

They have the duchy of Burgundy,
what else do they want?

The Artois, which they stole from me!

I'm alone, my dear.

Alone...

From the death of
that sow of Mahaut

I have no enemies
of my size anymore.

One only fights well
with an enemy of his size.

There I find
only bastards and females,

which bark at me.

I'm a peer of France.

And I get bored.

When will Mgr. Robert
take me at his place?

Will he make me the lady-in-waiting
of the countess, as he promised?

- Later.
- When?

A little patience, what the hell!

Robert of Artois has only one word.

Do you think I had no patience,
Monseigneur?

Then don't complaint.

You've got all that's better in me.

I'll take you in my house
and I'll see you less.

And with less abandon.

All that's better in you, you said?
So why are you late in giving it to me?

The bed is ready.

No, I must return to the palace now,
to see the king in secret,

and counteract
duchess of Burgundy!

Then tomorrow.

Tomorrow I have to go
to Conches and Beaumont.

- Will you stay long?
- Very little. Two weeks.

- The Divion is also going?
- Yes.

Yes! It's my wife who decided that way!

Good.

Then I will wait for you, Monseigneur,

as a loving and loyal servant.

To seize Divion?
Who? Who came to seize her?

- Three sergeants.
- What sergeants? By whose order?

- The king's!
- The king's!

Come on! Seize it from my home?

- Have you seen the order?
- Here it is, Monseigneur.

I didn't let them take Divion
until they gave it to me.

Sire, my brother,

take back my peerage,
my fiefs, my lands, my revenues,

take my property
and my right over it,

cast me from your narrow Council which
I am no longer worthy to be part of.

For I am nothing for this kingdom!

What got you, my brother?

- Why this agitation? What do you say?
- I'm telling the truth, my brother!

I say I am nothing to this kingdom

because the king,
without deigning to prevent me,

make apprehend a person
who lives under my roof!

But whom I ordered to be seized?
What person?

A certain lady of Divion, brother,
who is from my house,

as servant of my wife, your sister!

And whom three sergeants,
at your order,

came to take her
from my castle of Conches

for throwing her into jail.

By my order?

But I never gave such an order!

Divion, you said?

I do not know this name!

Come on, brother, I beg you
from my heart believe me.

Even if I had a reason,

I wouldn't have nobody arrest
in your house without warning you,

and without talking to you first.

That's what I thought too, brother.
And yet, the order came from you!

No! I never sealed nor dictated
anything similar.

Then it's possible that someone
counterfeited your seal?

No, that cannot be.

Look to the "L" from my name.

Look at the nozzle of the stick,

and the little whole
from the leafage of the border.

Someone unstuck the seal
from another document?

No. I only use my seal for sigils
that must be broken;

never on a flat page.

Then?

Then somebody stole my seal,
this is for sure. But who?

And when?

I never quit it than at night.

And I take it back in the morning.

But the writing, brother?
Whose is it?

I know this hand.

Send me right away, if he's at
the castle, or wherever he is,

the clerk Robert Mulet;
he will come with his feathers!

This Mulet

isn't he serving at writing letters
queen Jeanne,

your wife?

He serves sometimes me,

sometimes my wife.

Put your box down and write.

"From the king

"to our beloved and faithful bailiff
of Paris, Jean of Milon, greetings.

"We order you to dispose at once
the releasing of Madame..."

- Jeanne of Divion.
- "Jeanne of Divion,

"which is imprisoned in the jail of..."

- In fact, where is she?
- At the Tower of Nesle, sire.

- How do you know it?
- Sire, I had the day before yesterday

the honor of writing your order
to retain this woman.

- And who dictated it to you?
- The queen, sire.

- The queen!
- Yes, sire. She told me

you haven't the time to do it,
so... you told her to do it.

- Aren't you finishing the letter?
- Yes, of course.

Write the common formula.

To the bailiff of Paris,
at once, by king's order!

Jeanne!

Since when one sends orders
in my name?

Orders, my beloved sire?

And since when one steals
my seal while I'm seeping?

Your seal, my heart?
But I never put my hand on it.

What seal are you talking about?

It was the other night, isn't it?

Bad slut, you rub me up,

you pretend being taken up with me
and you betray me in my sleep?

And you steal my royal seal?

Nice use you gave Tower of Nesle,
which I blessed you with!

You're as bad as your sister?

And this cursed tower will only be used
for the wrongdoings from Burgundy?

Am I not right, Robert?

Yes, I did it. Yes, I stole the seal
while you were sleeping,

because your justice is unfair

and to defend
my brother from Burgundy

against this evil Robert,
present here!

who always harmed us, and,
in collusion with your father,

took my sister Marguerite
to perdition!

Don't you dare pronouncing
my father's name!

And don't you dare
to touch my brother,

who's the biggest support
for the throne.

Get out, Madame!

Isn't it awful, Robert,

to keep both eyes open on your wife,
even during the night?

However, I can't close her
in a convent: she's my wife!

Not allowing her
to sleep anymore with me

is all I can do.

The worst...
is I love that funny thing.

So, Messire bailiff, have you ordered
to release that woman?

- No, sire.
- What?

- My order was this time false?
- Not at all, sire.

- But...
- But what?

Sire, the woman confessed.

- And what? What did she confessed?
- All kind of dirty works, Monseigneur.

Falsified writings, counterfeited
papers, and many others.

By all means, if she was interrogated,
she confessed a lot!

Let me put you under torture,
and I bet

you'll confess that
you wanted to sodomize me!

Unfortunately, Monseigneur,
the woman spoke out of fear.

Of fear not to be interrogated.

And she gave
a long list of accomplices.

Your advice, my brother?

Your justice, brother, your justice.

Go on keeping the woman in jail,
and, if I'm wrong,

be sure I will require utmost rigor.

Beatrice...

Only you knew that
the Divion lady was at my place.

Beatrice...

you'll pay for this!

One month later,

some marines were fishing in the Seine

a sac floating adrift in the water

and which contained
the body of a woman.

Her face was trampled, crushed,
not to be identified.

Her neck beared
the trace of a nooze.

"Listen, listen!
Know all men by these presents that,

"the day of Sainte-Lucie,
the sixth of July,

"around the city of Evreux, is going
to take place a great fight amnesty

"and a very noble tournament,

"where will be used maces made
to measure and blunt sabers,

"whereat our sire the king
and his high barons

"will take active part."

Robert...

Yes.

Your trial goes badly,
for your letters are false.

No, brother, they are not.

Robert, I beg you, don't obstinate
on a road so wrong.

The opening Order
of the process waits for a month.

I refuse to sign it because
I don't want my brother be facing

with people good for nothing,

who will cover him with a mud
I'm not sure he'll ever can wash away.

I'll stand the risk, my brother.

Your clerk has talked, Robert.

Your forgers are in gaol.

They admitted they wrote your letters.

They are true!

I don't say you're as guilty
as your enemies pretend.

The letters were brought to you,

you thought they were good,

but you were wrong.

All these are woman tricks

agreed between your wife and
her sister-in-law from Burgundy.

I want as well to take for a calumny
what it's said about your aunt's death.

She took her last supper
at your place!

But not her daughter,
when she died two months later.

I thought she died of wickedness!

But if someone helped her,
I wasn't her sole enemy.

Sooner or later,
she would kill us all!

Robert...

Yes.

I'm waiting your answer.

What answer?

Give up Artois
so I can close the case.

Give up Artois?

But you, sire, my brother,

did you give up the promise
you made to me

before becoming king?

Did you forget
who put you on the throne?

Who allied the peers on your side?

Who put the scepter into your hands?

If I would forget, Robert,

do you think I would
talk to you now the way I do?

For the last time, give it up!

- Never!
- It's the king you're refusing!

Yes, sire.

The king I have made.

Then, if you don't want
to save your honor as a peer,

I will take care
to save my honor as a king!

Forgive me, Mgr., for not getting up
to give you a proper welcome.

My cousins, Tolomeo Tolomei,
Andrea and Giaccomo,

all came from Sienna to see me dying.

Mgr. of Artois is a friend,
I deign to say.

All what can be done for him,
must be done.

He saved us many times.

But, if it is money you need,
alas, alas!

Despite all my devotion for you,
there's nothing we can do,

you know very well why.

Not even under Philip the Fair
we haven't been treated this way.

I came not to borrow money from you,

but to ask you to take mine.
I'm going away, banker.

- I'm leaving he kingdom.
- You, Monseigneur?

Yes. Do you know how this king,
whose sister I married, treats me?

And who would have
never been king without me?

He sent his bailiff of Gisors to shout
at the gate of all my castles,

that he suspends my trial
until the Saint-Michel!

The male queen, the gimp,
is the one who won!

The Burgundy won, and the infamy!

They threw into gaol
my chaplain, my clerks,

they tortured my witnesses to force
them deny themselves!

Well, let them judge me!
I'll not be there!

They stole my Artois!
This kingdom is nothing to me.

And its king is my enemy.

I'll go abroad, and I'll harm him
as much as I can!

So look, banker: my liquid assets
against money orders

to your subsidiaries
from Holland and England.

And keep for yourself
two pounds from twenty.

We'll leave too, Monseigneur.
Or, rather, they'll leave.

I'll let to France only some bones,
of no great value.

We agree, Monseigneur.
Entrust us your liquid property;

we'll give you money orders
for the whole sum,

without retaining anything.

I'm grateful, Tolomei.
I'll send the chests by night.

You'll get back your own, Monseigneur;
I shall not see it, but I tell you:

you'll get back your own.

Tolomei, I saw brave men
fighting till the end of a battle;

you're as brave as them,
in your way.

No, no, Monseigneur, no:
it's not bravery, on the contrary.

If I wasn't a banker,
now... I would be so afraid!...

And your sun? Is he growing bigger?

He is 15. He lives in Sienna.
Soon he'll be taller than I am.

But he has no taste for the bank.

The maternal heritage, perhaps!

- Farewell, banker.
- Monseigneur!

Let me bless my last client.

Messire Robert of Artois,
count of Beaumont-le-Roger,

peer of the king,

do appear!

for knowing the charges,
presenting his defense,

admitting his faults
and obtaining his forgiveness.

Or, the same Robert, far from
welcoming these offers of clemence,

never returned to the kingdom,

but, in all places he have been, he
teamed up with all good-for-nothings,

outlaws and enemies of the king,

and he shared to many of them,
who repeated it further,

his intention to make perish,
by sword or witchcraft,

the chancellor, the marshal of Trye

and various counselors
of our sire the king,

and, finally, pronounced the same
menaces against the king himself.

Messire Robert of Artois,
count of Beaumont-le-Roger,

do appear!

In consequence,

in the name of our sire, the king,
we demand:

that the same Robert
be grown out of his titles,

rights and prerogatives
as peer of the kingdom,

as well as all his other titles,
lordships and possessions;

over and above, the goods, lands,
castles, houses and all objects,

personal and real assets
belonging to him,

to be confiscated and delivered
to the treasure,

to be disposed of by king's will;

over and above,
his blazonry to be destroyed

in the presence
of the peers and barons,

so that it never appears anymore
on flag or seal,

and his person be forever banished
from the kingdom's lands...

...to be accomplished...
by king's order.

Your advice, my peers.

If no one talks,
it means will approve.

Cause judged.

The Beaumont peerage has survived.

Outlaw, Robert of Artois wanders
at the borders of the kingdom,

a wild wanderer
dreaming only of revenge.

Flemings are on the brink of revolt.

He team up with the soul of this
revolt, Jakob Van Artevelde.

By king of France's order,

we are forced to send off
the English merchants.

Now, England, as response, threatens
to stop delivering us it's wool.

When it's done, Monseigneur,
the fullers and the weavers of Flanders

will be forced to leave their jobs
and to close up their shops.

But that day

they might also take their knives.

Messire Van Artevelde, it's what I call
"to put yourself between two fires".

If you want to rebel anyway,

rebel against the king of France
and ally flatly with England.

Your militias are brave, but as long
as you have no man astride,

they're forced to limit themselves to
little actions, far from counting in battle.

Why don't you call in their support
some English Horse Guards,

and enter France by the road
of Artois. There, I ensure you

I'll bring you even more men.

I gave it a thought too, Monseigneur.

But our bourgeois swore
allegiance to the king of France.

And even if they would
rise in arms against him,

He still remains their master.

And religion, Monseigneur,
France knows how to use it.

They threaten
to excommunicate us if we revolt.

And our families are afraid
to lack mass and priests.

It is the allegiance
to the king of France

which hinders you from
getting allies and rise in arms?

Indeed, Monseigneur.

But if the king of England
would become the king of France?

Once again: if the king of England
would be the king of France?

What if he would claim the crown,

if he would win his rights, if he would
prove that kingdom of France is his,

if he would appear
as your legitimate suzerain?

This is just a dream, Monseigneur.

A dream?

But that quarrel was never judged,
nor the cause was lost!

When my cousin Valois was crowned,

and MPs from England came
to assert the rights of Queen Isabella

and of her son Edward,

they were not heard
because nobody wanted to listen,

and because I had led them
back to their ships.

But if we would restart the affair?

- How?
- If we tell your weavers,

fullers, merchants and bourgeois:

"Your legitimate suzerain
is in London?"

Do you properly think, Monseigneur?

that there is at least one in this
world convinced of what you say?

And who might agree
with such a thing?

Messire Van Artevelde, there's only
a man who must be convinced:

the King of England himself.

And a single man can convince him:

myself.

Barons of England, I told your king:

if you think
that my presence in your kingdom

will put you in danger
or will prejudice you,

then give me your hatred for Philip,

the badly destined king.

I won't complaint about you,

- who have been so welcoming to me.
- Cousin,

you're my guest, and your advice
is very precious to me.

The king of France let know again

to Mgr. Charles of Guyenne
that, within two weeks,

he should hand him over
his worst enemy,

Count Robert of Artois,

otherwise

the duchy will be seized.

I expected that.

The alleged king of France
has no other idea

than to repeat what, once,
I had invented, at Sarlat,

my dear sire Edward,
against your father.

Conspicuous maneuver, now that
is plotted the second time.

Except that now England
has a king who reigns,

and France has Robert of Artois
no more.

Let me tell you, barons of England,
that the rule which says that France

cannot be entrusted to a woman,

nor bequeathed by a woman,

never has been taken
from an old custom;

it was the concoction of a moment
thrown off by an old constable

about the heritage, 20 years ago, of
Louis the Quarreler, the murdered king.

The crown of France, in all fairness,

had to be given to Queen Isabella.

And today, as the three sons
of Philip the Fair are dead,

the crown of France, in all fairness,

must be given to King Edward,

your sire,

Queen Isabella's son.

Sire Edward,

I recognize and salute in your person
the real king of France.

Sire, in the name of the king
of England, my sire,

and because your coronation
has not been done properly,

I come to ask you to deliver him
the crown of France.

That crazy Robert!

Look who’s making
my cousin Edward lose his head!

The challenge,
from kingdom to kingdom!

I was expecting anything, Mr. Bishop:

my cousin's refusal
to deliver Robert of Artois,

a protest against the
takeover decree of Guyenne...

I would excuse it, by all means.

But the crown? My whole kingdom?

My cousin, king Edward, when he came
to present me his homage at Amiens,

- didn't he recognize me as king?
- Our sire was then minor.

The homage that he showed you
was decided

only under the order
of traitor Mortimer.

The things changed, sire.

You, as count of Valois, ought to

present your homage to King Edward.

Where are you staying, Mr. Bishop?

The Château-Tétu hôtel, rue du Tiroir.

Well, go back there.

Run wild a few days in Paris,
and come back, if you want,

with another, more rational offer.

Be sure I have
no hard feelings for you.

Being assigned with such a mission and
succeeding to make it without a laugh,

you're the best ambassador
I have ever received.

Sire, I present you
the letters of defiance.

That's it. We'll keep them safe,
to read them often.

They will help us to send off
our sorrow, if it seizes us.

And then we'll give you to drink.
After so many words,

no doubt your throat is dry.

Eternal faith of the outlaws,
they wait.

Robert of Artois' war
wasn't yet England's war.

And Robert, at Windsor, got bored.

Fly! Fly!

Bird, Monseigneur! Bird!

This really is a coward bird.

Four times bigger than my little falcon,

he could have killed him
with one beat of his large beak,

but he runs, the coward, he runs!

These herons are voluble and
they fear even their shadows,

and they run
as soon as they see it.

- What should I do with him, Mgr.?
- Take him to the kitchens,

and then you'll bring me a minstrel
or two of those who are in the castle.

Make room, poor bankrupt people!

I'll bring the king a present!

Sire, behold a heron
caught by my falcon.

It's the most cowardly bird
of all birds in the world,

for it flees before all others.

People from your country
should bend before it,

and it would fit on England's blazon,
better than the lions.

Since months already we talk loud,

multiply the challenges,
kill each others with words.

With words only!

Sire Edward,

it's you I offer this heron,

for he truly belongs to the most
cowardly prince of this world,

who was disinherited
of the kingdom of France,

and who lacks the courage to reconquer
what belongs to him!

Because I'm treated as a coward,

in front of the ladies
and my barons,

I must tell you
my opinion in this matter.

You misjudged me, my cousin.

It's not cowardice that keeps me.

And I swear to you

that, before year's end,
I'll cross the Chanel,

to challenge the king
who pretends to be of France,

and for fighting him,

even if we'd be one against ten.

I'm grateful for this heron
you caught for me,

and which I accept gladly.

Sire Edward,
my young and brave cousin,

I wasn't expecting another answer
from you.

It's your noble heart which spoke.
I'm very glad for your grace.

Before God who hears us,

I swear to precede you
everywhere in battle,

and I pray God gives me
a long living life

to serve you enough

and enough to get revenge.

My noble lords,

doesn't everyone of you
feel the need to take a vow

the way your sire did?

My lord Montague,
it's you to whom I speak first.

Count Robert, as you wish,
I'll do it.

If the king, our sire,
has nominated his enemy,

I choose mine too,

and, as marshal of England,

I swear I'll have no rest

until I'll destroy in battle
the marshal of King Philip,

the so-called king of France.

I can't take a vow
without Monseigneur’s approval.

Vow everything you want, my dear.

Vow fervently, I'll ratify in advance,
God help you!

My sire, if I'm allowed to vow
what I want,

because I'm carrying a baby
and I even feel him move,

I swear he'll not come out to light
until you'll take me across the sea

to fulfill your vow...

If it happens that you let me here
and go beyond sea with others,

then I'll kill myself
with a big steel knife,

for losing my soul
and the fruit I'm carrying!

My dear,

you have taught us a lesson of honor.

After you, nobody will vow no more.

Let my cousin Philip know

that, in order to avoid great losses
to the people and the land,

and the death of a great number of
Christians, that every prince

must have the heart to prevent it,

I offer him the possibility
to meet each other in a single combat,

to avoid the quarrel about
the inheritance of France,

which is our personal matter.

And if Philip of Valois refuses
this close-handed challenge,

I offer him to fight
with only 100 knights each side,

in closed field with no top lance
and blunt swords,

having for price
the crown of Saint-Louis.

The proposal of my cousin in England
was addressed to Philip of Valois,

not to the king of France, to whom
Edward is vassal, cowardly rebelled.

I recuse it.

This time, Robert of Artois has won.

The war, his war, began.

Leading an army corps
of 21,000 English people,

he lands in Bretagne.

He conquers Brest;

he attacks Vannes, and there...

Tomorrow I'll be on horse again!

Get it out, Lormet!

Get it out!

On the ship
taking Robert back to England,

the death needed four days

for burning inside him
all he had left of force and hatred.

France, Lormet... France!

- Monseigneur...
- Lormet!

- You must do your will!
- No!

No!

- The host, Monseigneur!
- No!

Isabelle!

Look, Lormet!

Look! How beautiful she is!

Madame, I came from France especially

to tell you
that your sisters are whores!

My Marguerite... nice... nice...

Did she cry, Lormet,
when you suffocated her?

No. No, Monseigneur.

She had a body entirely made for love.

Lormet...

My wheat, Lormet!

It's mine! It's my fortune!

The king, Lormet! The king!

Down on your knees, Lormet!

It's the king you're refusing!

Yes, sire! The king I have made!

You must give up Artois, Robert!

Give it up!

Give it up!

Never!

Every man, coming into the world,

is invested with a mission,
often unknown to himself,

whom everything pushes to fulfil it,
with the illusion of the freedom.

Robert of Artois had set fire
to the Occident;

his mission has finished.

He had fired up,
between France and England,

a war which was about to last
100 years.

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