All language subtitles for P D James - Death In Holy Orders S01E01 x264 RB58-eng

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Ronald!

Ronald!

Mr. Treeves!

Ronald!

Ronald!

Shut up!

Shut up!!!

Aaah!

My son was a mystery to me.

Why should a man with a
double-first in economics

wish to study
for the priesthood?

Especially that
vice-ridden, medieval pile.

Commander Dalgleish

has childhood links
with the college.

I spent many happy summers there
when I was in my teens.

My father was a clergyman.

I've asked the commander
if he will visit St. Anselm's

in a semi-official capacity

to see if there are any aspects

of your son's death

which have not been researched.

Obviously without upsetting
the college authorities.

If not upsetting people
were a prerequisite,

we would still be living
in holes in the ground.

Or else the garden of Eden.

St. Anselm may have seemed to
you like the garden of Eden

when you were a child,
commander,

but you're gonna be
very disappointed

if you expect to
find that today.

Of course, a plastic cup
and a paper plate

would do just as well.

You were out of the country

when the inquest was held,
sir aldred?

I washed my hands of Ronald
when he insisted upon...

Following his vocation.

And you're not satisfied

with the verdict
of accidental death?

I expected an open verdict.
Accidental death surprised me.

Is your concern suicide?

Or murder?

I expect your report.

My concerns always constitute
"any other business."

I'm just saying
one day it would be nice

to have them inscribed
on the agenda.

One day, father peregrine,

errant car-parking and the
nocturnal use of washing machines

might be all we have to discuss.

Today is not that day.

Today we are discussing the
impending visit of the archdeacon

and his burgeoning desire
to close us down.

The man's a barbarian.

A barbarian with enormous
influence in the diocese

who needs to find
massive savings

and looks up on us
as out of date and elitist.

How has "elitist"
become such a dirty word?

I mean, Manchester city
are elitist.

United.

Manchester united.

The church of England
is in financial crisis,

and Anselm's is small
and, yes, elitist.

But it is expensive to run.

You don't have to
be a rocket scientist

to understand
the archdeacon's thinking.

So how do we stop him?

Well, yes, father John...
There's the question.

Yarborough.

I know you're here, Yarborough!

Yarborough!

Two other guests
coming this week.

Clive Stannard
will be here tomorrow.

Another barbarian.

And the other...

Well, father Martin?

Yes, commander Adam Dalgleish
of New Scotland Yard

is arriving this morning
for two days

at the request of
sir aldred Treeves.

He'll be taking
a second brief look

into the circumstances
of poor Ronald's death.

But we've had the inquest.
What more does he want?

The last thing we need while
we're fighting for survival.

And if word of
his presence here gets out,

it'll look as if
there has been a cover-up.

Do you mean he'll be raking
it all up again, Sebastian?

I think this is him now.

Where's he parking?

Adam Dalgleish is
a man of discretion.

He's not just a policeman.

Most of you will know
some of his poetry.

If you're planning
for the weekend,

Roger Yarborough's coming.

Adam!

Father Martin?

You expected me to be dead.

No...

Don't rack your brains
trying to be delicate.

It wasn't that, I...

There you go,
trying to find words

to contradict the truth
of your expression.

Ha ha!

You parked unwisely,
but we'll deal with that later.

I'm very much alive,
as is St. Anselm's.

Very much alive.

Do you think we don't
have problems enough

without inviting
Roger Yarborough?

How is he a problem?

Because you believe
what he says,

or because you don't?

Stand up when you're
speaking to me.

Yes, father Sebastian.

The man persecuted
the archdeacon

after his first wife's death.

You mean after he murdered her.

Crampton is looking
for excuses to close us down.

And you recklessly
jeopardize our position

by pursuing a petty vendetta.

Is child abuse petty?
Is murder?

You may be descended
from our founder, Raphael,

but if you go on like this,

you'll be overseeing our demise.

I'm asking you to put him off.

Mrs. Crampton.

For the archdeacon.

For all his help last week.

Thank you.
That's very kind.

You! Stop! What do you
think you're doing?!

Matthew!

I beg your pardon?

I-I'm sorry.
A misunderstanding.

She's been dead four years.

Let it go.

I'd forgotten
how beautiful it was.

Yes.

The archdeacon Crampton
feels very strongly

that all our treasures
should be removed,

and it may be that
he'll get his way.

Removed?

To a cathedral, perhaps,

where more people
could see them.

And greater security
would be possible.

But there are those why say
he'd simply...

Sell them all off.

And give the proceeds
to the poor, of course.

Our founder gave these things
to be placed here.

And here, I think,
they should stay.

That's one thing I wouldn't
mind seeing the back of...

The doom.

Unfortunately, it's a fixture.

The last judgment
still always manages

to unsettle me.

Ronald Treeves, father?

Something set Ronald apart.

I think he felt he knew more
about the real world

than did the rest of us.

And did he?

Well, in many ways

it was the real world
he was trying to escape.

The priesthood
was his only chance

of superceding his father.

Sir aldred might wield
enormous influence

in matters secular,

but only an ordained priest

can have power
over the human soul.

Did Ronald have any particular
friends at college?

Not among the ordinands, no.

He was very close to Margaret
Monroe, who does the laundry.

It was she, unfortunately,
who found him.

I say unfortunately
because she'd lost her own son

not so very long ago.

He was in the army.

I'm not sure that
she ever really got over that.

My son used to like havin'
the radio on with the cricket

if he was ill,

when he was a boy,
if it was summer...

Measles and so on.

Not that you're allowed
to get the measles nowadays.

That's why you've all got
these other things coming in.

It builds you up, the measles.

Mumps, et cetera.
Chicken pox.

I brought you some books.

I'll stop by later.

Good of you.

Is there no cricket on?

All finished.

Well, just when you need it,
it's over.

Raphael.

How is the translation going?

Actually, I haven't had as
much time as I'd hoped.

Well, then, we'll
work on it together.

What's your honest opinion
of father Sebastian?

I get the impression your own
opinion is the more imminent.

The man's got no bloody balls.

That would certainly explain
his singing voice.

You were always
down here as a boy,

we always knew
where to find you.

In the waves...

Collecting driftwood...

Or messing about
in the old boathouse.

The boathouse.

It was a girl.

Sadie.

Mrs. Milson, used to be cook
here, her granddaughter.

She would have been
about your age.

You never remarried, Adam?

No.

So, this is where Margaret
Monroe found Ronald?

Yes. All this
was an overhang.

You'll sometimes see things
buried in the sandstone...

Bits of Amber, old bones...
You remember.

Perhaps he was rooting about.

If you're beneath an overhang,

of course you run the risk
of it collapsing on top of you.

In 50 years' time, the
encroachment will be complete.

For St. Anselm's,
it'll be under the waves,

like the lost villages.

Is it possible that Ronald
was hiding something?

Or looking for something
that was hidden?

I don't suppose we'll
ever know, will we, Adam?

Aaaah!

It's a terrible way to die.

I often think of it.

And?

When you think of it?

Father Sebastian
talked of suicide.

I don't believe...
I don't want to...

I don't know.

We failed him unforgivably.

I nearly fell.

Emma.

Emma lavenham.

Literary research fellow
at Cambridge.

We second her to lecture on
poetry to the ordinands.

Adam Dalgleish.
How do you do?

The poet?

Yes.
and policeman.

I'm sorry. I...

No, it's all right.
We'd finished.

I was just...
I'll carry on with my walk.

It's very nice to meet you.
And you, too.

She's a brilliant girl.
We're lucky to have her.

She's engaged to an extremely
prominent linguist back in Cambridge.

John!

Your scarf!

Archdeacon.

We weren't expecting you
until the weekend.

The schedule for the removal
of items most at risk.

Starting with the altar
piece later this month.

Raphael, suppose
I just went away.

Do you think the archdeacon
would leave St. Anselm's alone?

It's Ronald dying that's put us

to the top of his agenda
it's not you.

I was just thinking
that if I wasn't there...

You exist, John, face it.

If anyone should disappear,
it's the arch-bloody-Deacon.

May we enter?

By removal,

do you mean requisition?

If the altar piece and the
other items were removed,

you'd have no need of keys.

What's it worth, do you think?

Three million?
Five?

If you get away with
forcibly removing

our founder's endowments,
will you leave us in peace?

You'll have to
read the document.

Why do I have to
read the damn document

when you're standing right in front
of me, quite capable of an answer?

The conditions here aren't right

for the preservation
of great works like these.

The humidity...

The lack of real high security..

The risk of accidents.

Ronald Treeves told you, did he?

Do you wish to
punish him further?

What the hell
do you mean by that?

Have you ever asked yourself
how an institution like this,

supposedly infused
with love and light,

could drive a young man
like Ronald to his death?

It was an accident.
Read the coroner's report.

Do you think harboring
a convicted pedophile

in a place where young men come
to follow their vocations

sends out a good message?

Father John has
served his sentence

and deserves to be
left in peace.

Leaving aside whether he was
guilty in the first place.

Left in peace
would be one thing...

Featherbedded and salaried
is another.

I think we can safely say
this meeting is concluded.

Not quite.

There's something else here
at St. Anselm's, isn't there?

Something more valuable than all
the works of art put together.

Something powerful enough
to threaten

not just the church of England,
but the whole Christian faith.

The papyrus.
The St. Anselm papyrus.

You're the warden, you're
charged with its safekeeping.

I want it handed over
at the weekend.

In the meantime,

I'll leave you to lock up
the house of god.

Come in!

Mrs. Monroe?

It's... it's you,
mister, um...

Dalgleish.

Do you know why I'm here?

About, um...

Ronald Treeves, yes.

Um...

On the doorstep.

Can I make you a cup of...

tea would be very nice.

Right, tea.

Leeks.

They'll be from Eric
Surtees, the caretaker.

He's got a kitchen garden,
and he's,

he's kind like that.

He thinks of people
when they're...

I'll wash those after.

You were close to Ronald.

This must be
a hard time for you.

A hard time, it is...

A hard time.

Have you worked here long,
Mrs. Monroe?

Margaret.

Six years.
Just the laundry.

Not the personal laundry,
just the sheets and towels.

Ruby... Mrs. Pilbeam...

She does some personal laundry
for some people,

but I,

I used to work at the hospice
at ashcombe house.

I was good with
the terminally ill.

I was a nurse there,
but my heart's poor,

and the work was...

So I applied here,
and the duty's much lighter,

much lighter than at ashcombe...

Can you tell me
about Ronald, Margaret?

What is there to say?
He was a boy.

They don't seem like boys here
sometimes...

So clever,
and these outfits they wear,

but, um, that's what they are

and that's all he was,
whatever some people might say.

He was a boy.

"Whatever some people
might say"?

They said he was arrogant,
some of them,

and said he didn't choose
his friends too wisely.

I heard that
he didn't have many.

Well, only Peter, really.
Peter buckhurst.

And that was hard for Peter,

because Raphael
didn't like Ronald.

Raphael?

The senior student.

And... why didn't Raphael
like Ronald?

Who knows, with him?

He's gotta be kingpin...

You're either in or you're out.

Did you have someone in mind

when you said that Ronald didn't
choose his friends wisely?

They said he was friends
with the archdeacon,

with... with Mr. Crampton.

And Mr. Crampton
isn't well-liked around here?

Could you tell me about
how you found Ronald?

My journal.

No, no. I'd rather we went over it afresh.
If you wouldn't mind?

( Sighs

it was his cloak and his
cassock I saw first.

Folded beside each other, not...

And then I saw
the cliff had fallen.

Big clumps of sand and bits
from the top, tufts of grass.

I knew straightaway
what had happened,

and I... I started digging
with my hands...

And then a piece of wood
I found.

And I kept thinking, would
it be better to go for help,

and then I...

I felt something soft.

No...

He was wearing
corduroy trousers, and...

He was kneeling, sort of.

Then I...

Then I remembered

that all cloaks
have nametags in them,

so I... I... I ran across.

I picked it up...

And it was Ronald's.

Then I heard a car coming over
the road, quite a way off.

Then all of a sudden, I didn't
want to be there on my own.

I ran back up the steps.

It was a professor, Mr. Gregory.
He came down and...

Where is he?!
That way!

And we dug some more.

And I remember
I started to pull him out,

and Mr. Gregory shouted, "stop!"

He said we should leave him
as he was... his clothes, as well.

That there was nothing
we could do.

But I wanted to be sure.

And Mr. Gregory
took off his glove

and placed his fingers
against Ronald's neck.

And he...

Is there something?

No, no.

He was dead, of course.

And we went and got father
Sebastian, father Martin,

and the police came,
and the ambulance.

They're... they're nice,
the ambulance men.

Crampton mentioned it by name.

He's determined to get it.

The papyrus is perfectly
safe where it is.

It would be safer still
in my keeping.

Are you saying you think
I'll give it up?

He's got the bit
between his teeth.

You don't know what he's like.

Where is it?

The papyrus remains
my responsibility

until the time of my death.

After that, it will be yours
to do with as you wish.

I'm not sure
I like the tone of that.

Then I apologize.

So when you heard

the coroner's verdict
of accidental death,

did you have a strong sense
of whether he was right?

Whether it was suicide,
you mean?

The ordinands do a reading
before dinner in the refectory.

They're takin' turns,
those that want to.

Ronald started saying
he wanted to do one.

But not a reading,
more a... a...

He wanted something
off his chest.

And what was it
he wanted to say?

He didn't tell me, and...

He never did it, so...

Something that
was troubling him?

Did you mention this
during the investigation?

"Stick to facts"... that's what
he said, father Sebastian.

"Don't go bothering them
with all your"...

Father.

I just wanted to be sure

that you were all right,
Margaret.

I am, father.
Thank you.

And your cardigan's
nearly ready.

Splendid.

When you asked me what I thought
about the verdict,

you didn't mean murder?

I just wanted to know
your thoughts.

There's an atmosphere,

father.

I don't know if it's me
going over things

that people thought
they'd put behind them,

or the archdeacon's plans.

Or Ronald Treeves' death.

Or simply your memories
of this place

becoming unsettled.

Expecting your sister, Eric?

She's late.

Man of few words.

Mr. Surtees.

I hear it's you we have to
thank for saving the church.

Putting out the fire?

It was you, is that right?

Well, father...

I don't use that term, "father."
You can call me archdeacon.

A candle, was it?

I heard about it
from Ronald Treeves.

We used to chat about
life at St. Anselm's.

He'd keep me up to date.

Ronald.

He'd visit and we'd talk.

Perhaps...
you and I should talk, Eric.

No. No,
I don't think...

Not much of a talker,
is that it? More of a doer?

But tell me this,
Mr. Surtees.

What exactly is it you do here?

Caretaker, father.
Er, arch... archdeacon.

It won't last,
Mr. Surtees, it can't.

I hope they've made that
clear to you here.

The bishops themselves are
laying off chauffeurs and cooks.

Do you really suppose
your position is more crucial

to the smooth running
of the church of England?

We'll continue this conversation
at the weekend.

Father John, wait!

My father told me

someone brought a baby
to the college, after my time.

Someone related to the woman
who founded the college... Agnes.

Agnes Arbuthnot.

It was her great-niece Clara
who abandoned the baby

into our care, as it were.

What became of her?

We never saw her again.

She spent some time
in France, I believe,

and she died in
the ashcombe house hospice

not far from here. When...
Ten years ago... more, more.

And the child?

Raphael.

He's to be ordained very soon.

Here?

Yes, well, it was father John
and his sister Agatha

who really brought him up.

Now, it isn't
one of those productions

where they mumble
all the time, is it?

Right.

You!

How dare you
address my brother?!

John, come here!
Come here immediately!

You're not welcome here,
you know!

Not welcome at all!

We wish you were dead.
All of us!

Wait till the weekend.

Peter buckhurst?

My name is Dalgleish,
I'm a police officer.

I'd like to speak to you
about Ronald Treeves.

Margaret Monroe
said you were friends.

He's dead.

Yes. Before he died,
did he say anything to you?

Did he mention about getting
something off his chest?

He said almost nothing
for two weeks before he died.

Raphael, this is...

Ronald didn't have
anything on his chest.

He had an enormous chip on his
shoulder, is what he had.

He said he was like me...
abandoned.

Unlike me, he hasn't got
a raving lunatic

trying to destroy his home.

That's the man you should be
investigating... archdeacon Crampton.

He killed his first wife
and got away scot-free.

Who are you?

You know who I am.

He's here, you know,
Crampton. Skulking about.

He destroyed father John.

Pushed through
the child abuse charges.

Didn't matter that father John
hadn't done anything.

And he murdered his wife,
you say?

I know what happened.

So does the man
who was in charge

of the case against Crampton...
Roger Yarborough.

Inspector Yarborough.

They suspended him
because he wouldn't give it up.

They said
he was hounding Crampton.

Well, someone needed to.

Crampton's the man
you should be talking to.

The college has
a beautiful facade.

Expensive and desirable as your
automobile undoubtedly is,

I don't think it enhances it.

I'm surprised you haven't
resorted to wheel clamps.

And risk delaying
your departure?

Another transgressor?

A great avenger of
transgressions, I understand.

- You've met Emma?
- Briefly.

As you may recall,

the tradition is,
the first course

is eaten in silence

while one of the ordinands
gives a reading.

Emma you know, and this is George
Gregory, our professor of Greek.

And Raphael Arbuthnot...

we've met.

On a busman's holiday?

What was Crampton doing here today?
We'll talk later.

Are you here to haul us all
over the coals, Mr. Dalgleish?

We rather felt the coroner's
court was the last word

on the ultimately dampening
subject of Ronald Treeves.

The commander is here
on a flying visit.

It's a formality, really,
to reassure sir aldred.

Trying to threaten father John,
after what he did to him.

I said we'll talk later.

A formality?
Sir alred received a letter

suggesting he look further
into the matter,

and I'm here to do that.

A letter from whom?

An anonymous letter.
Intriguing.

Please, take a seat.

People really do
send anonymous letters, then?

I'm taking today's reading
from a book of poems

called a case to answer
by Adam Dalgleish.

No need to hide your light
under a bushel, commander.

The first poem's called
a confession.

Raphael, please.
Grace first.

Karen, it's me.

I don't want to leave
another message.

If you're there, pick up.

It's just, the archdeacon,
he was talkin' to Ronald.

He... he said...

Karen, please pick up.

Are you there?

I need you.

Tell me what to do.

Aren't we blessed
that it's been so mild today?

There'd been talk of storms
on the way.

I'd like to get a walk in
before bed.

Take a torch.

Yes, it can be...
Shockingly dark

once one leaves
the lights of the buildings.

White or red, sir?
What's the white?

A courtand chardonnay.

One of the few pleasures of our
studious and ascetic life here.

A really first-class
wine cellar.

That, and the excellent cooking
and the beauty of the setting

and the burne-Jones paintings
on the walls.

And the Van Der weyen
in the church.

We don't do so badly,
do we, Sebastian?

Despite our disavowal
of worldly pleasures.

I wasn't aware you had made
such a disavowal, George.

I forget sometimes, with all the
shining examples round-and-about,

that I'm nothing but a wretched
and unrepentant sinner.

Just keeping
the conversation going.

I'm sure the commander
isn't writing any of this down.

If I'm making people
uncomfortable,

perhaps I should eat in my set.

No, no, it's not you, Adam.

We... we all have
a lot on our minds

with the archdeacon returning

to tell us our fate.

But we are all...

Under suspicion a bit

till you've made your
report, aren't we?

Are you?

Everyone felt
very sorry about Ronald.

I suppose we all wonder whether we
could have done more to help him.

I'm terribly sorry!

I do beg your pardon.

Perhaps we could inaugurate

a new topic of conversation.

Raphael, would you
like to kick us off?

The consolations of beauty,
perhaps?

Come in!

Eric.

Are you coming in?

I meant to come and say
thank you for the leeks.

No. I was just
waiting for Karen...

Is she late again?

Her mobile's off.

I expect she'll be here
before long.

Did he come round here?

The policeman?
Mr. Dalgleish?

Policeman?

Asking about Ronald.

Crampton.

He said Ronald told him
about the fire in the church.

He said Ronald
told him a lot of things.

I wondered if... if he...

What'd the policeman want?

There she is now, there's Karen.

What'd the policeman want?

He wanted to talk to me
about Ronald,

about what I remembered.

Ronald. Yeah.

Did you say anything about me?

Mr. Dalgleish?

Ronald!

What sort of thing, Eric?

Eric.

Eric!

Come on, I'm freezing!

Where have you been?
I've been trying to ring you.

They used to say

that you could hear the bells
ringing beneath the waves.

The drowned churches.

The last call of
a lost civilization.

Did you know Ronald Treeves?

I taught him Greek.

What about
the coroner's verdict?

Can you really imagine him
giving any other

with those four
black-clad crows

glaring down at him
from their perch every day?

Are you suggesting that
the priests had some influence?

No, I'm making a joke.

But I have to say that
if death can have an upside,

and let's face it, it can,

it had to be seeing cool and unruffled
Sebastian so beside himself.

You don't like him?
I don't like pomposity.

What about religion?

Not for me, either.
What keeps you here?

There are pleasures to be had,
even in this isolated life...

Walks on the beach amongst them.

I said I'd stop on the way
for shopping.

You're always in a big panic
about things these days.

You're getting like dad.

It's the way he looks at me.

Probably wondering why you're
in such a bloody flap.

And there's a policeman.

Eric, chill out!

I'm here.

You're going to
put me in a mood.

I'm here.

That's probably him.
The policeman.

Well, he better watch
where he's going.

You won't find any answers
here now, commander Dalgleish.

No?

Matthew Crampton.

Is it Ronald Treeves
you're investigating?

Murder, isn't it?
Your specialism?

Is there some reason
why I should tell you?

It might affect the plans
for the future of the college.

It has a future, then?

You've been listening to rumors.

It breeds them, this place.

Removing paintings
from the walls

might give rise to speculation.

I'm often accused of wanting
to shut down St. Anselm's.

It's not me who'll
inherit millions if it closes.

They haven't told you
about Agnes Arbuthnot's will?

That they inherit what could
amount to ł10 million,

the four priests in residence?

Sebastian, Martin,
peregrine, John?

That they inherit the college and whatever
its contents at the time of closure?

Clearly not.

In the matter
of his first marriage,

the archdeacon
was certainly unfortunate.

She was young, unstable,
totally unsuited to her role.

And she was...

Was, or swiftly became,
an alcoholic.

How did she die?

An overdose of aspirins,
I believe.

Of course, Raphael
is convinced that

the archdeacon
administered them.

And you?
What do you believe?

That it's between Crampton
and his conscience,

I'm afraid.

Who's the beneficiary
of Agnes Arbuthnot's will?

What on earth can that
have to do with Ronald Treeves?

Me.

And the other three priests.

That is, if St. Anselm's closes.

And we do not intend
to let that happen.

And Raphael?

Well, he's the direct descendant
of our founder.

Sadly, illegitimate.

Agnes Arbuthnot's will
states clearly that

the heir must be legitimate
within english law.

So Raphael is
and always will be...

A poor bastard.

Ruby.

You gave me a shock.

I saw you finish your run.

I thought, "he'll be ready
with his laundry."

Thank you.

Barefoot in the breakers.

It's surely the poet
I'm talking to now,

not the policeman.

What's that, a towel?
You've come prepared.

Be my guest.

You're leaving today?

Yes, this afternoon.

I'll, um...

Probably be teaching, so...

That's a bit stupid. Um...
We'll be walking up together.

I mean, if you're finished here.

Yes, I am.

The towel... aren't you
going to use it now?

Um... no.

I... I thought
I might swim, but...

What are you doing?!

- I...
i spilled something!

Did you see him
on the day he died?

Ronald? No, no...

It was the day
that Karen, my sister,

was comin' up from London.

And I'm usually on the lookout
for her on those days, so...

So, you would have seen him
if he'd come this way?

No.

No, I don't think
I would have, no.

My pride and joys.

Pride and joy. Whatever.

Do you slaughter them yourself?

No.

No, I couldn't slaughter a
fly, least of all them.

A farmer I know does that.

Karen, this is
commander Dalgleish.

He's lookin' into Ronald's...

I better shift this or I'm gonna
get a note on my windscreen.

It's worse than Camden.

I've been asking your brother
for his thoughts

on Ronald Treeves' death.

Lonely. That's what
he looked like to me.

I'd have said suicide, but I
can't say I really knew him.

You get an impression,
though, don't you?

You know, from little things.

I'm a journalist,
so I use all that.

Same as you, I suppose. Always
trying to work people out.

And do you think that
you worked Ronald Treeves out?

No, I'm just bullshitting.
Hardly knew which one he was.

Ciao.

Mrs. Pilbeam's made you
some porridge, Peter.

For god's sake!

How many times
do I have to-!

I had the most incredible
recollection yesterday

while I was talking
to that policeman.

When you're better,
I'll tell you all about it.

So you're time is up.

Yes.

Get back to the yard
this afternoon.

I'm addressing a conference
in Stockholm.

Goodness me.

British consul?
Interpol.

Come back and see us when you can.
I will.

I hope I've been the best man
for the job here.

Well, you're familiar
with the place,

you know our ways.

Someone coming in fresh
might have been able

to differentiate better

between what was then
and what's now.

Hello, father.

Clive Stannard.

Clive, this is...
Adam Dalgleish.

Clive Stannard.

Research papers.
Might look impressive,

but I'm only here
for the wine cellar

and a weekend in the country,
if you want to know the truth.

Excuse me.

Do you want a hand
with all that stuff?

No, no, I'm fine.

I see him sometimes, Ronald.

The sand all in his eyes,
his mouth...

Suffocated. Stifled.

Sometimes I think I'm cursed.

You were a good friend
to Ronald,

perhaps the only one he had.

Is there anything else that's
occurred to you since we spoke?

It doesn't matter how trivial.
No, no.

Would you...
Pray for me?

Shit!

Yes.

I'll be very glad
to see the back of him...

So we can put that wretched
incident behind us...

Once and for all.

It's you.
I must have dropped off.

Father Martin!

Father! Father Martin!!!

"My dear Adam,

"seeing you again after so long

"has left me with many emotions.

"I feel a disproportionate

"and probably
wholly misplaced pride

"in seeing what you've become.

"But I have a strong sense

"you're allowing your past

"to determine your present.

"Let an old man impress on you:

"This is a mistake.

"Our time on earth is limited,
and we must spend it wisely.

"All my life I've stood by,

"taken the reasoned path,

"turned the other cheek.

"I didn't fight to
keep the job I loved

"when Sebastian wanted it,

"though I knew
I was the better warden.

"And now the whole college
is under threat,

"and what do I do?

I pray."

In the name of the father,
the son, and the holy ghost.

Amen.

I always thought
god was on our side in this.

I'm beginning to wonder
if he's on the archdeacon's.

"I feel a time is coming
when only action

"will win the day.

"Forgive my temerity when I say

"that you must open yourself

"to the possibility of love

"and allow the acquiescence
of the heart.

"To live always in grief
and regret

"is to denigrate
god's greatest gift.

"You will be as sorry
as we all were

"to learn of
the death of Margaret Monroe.

"She passed away peacefully
the night you left

and is to be cremated."

Thy kingdom come,
thy will be done,

on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread

and forgive us our trespass...

Forgive us our trespass...

Our father, which art in
heaven, hallowed by thy name.

Thy kingdom come,
they will be done,

on earth, as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread

and forgive us our trespass...

No sign of a struggle?

The only struggle
that took place

was between her
and the ischemic attack.

It was brief and conclusive.

What about poisoning?

If I thought
she'd been poisoned,

do you think I'd have pronounced
death by natural causes?

I'm going to authorize
an autopsy.

Are you calling me incompetent?

You expected her
to die of a heart attack.

You may have been predisposed
to find that she did.

I'm sorry,
but it still sounds like

you're calling me incompetent.

Perhaps you're predisposed
to hear that, as well.

Paranoid now, too, am I?

I'm also off-duty.

Adam! Who discovered
the body, father?

Margaret Monroe...
Who found her?

What...

I need to know, father.

Well, I... she...
She died in her sleep, and...

Father, who found her?

Nothing whatsoever
seemed odd or different?

Doesn't matter how silly
or insignificant...

Please think very carefully, Mrs.
Pilbeam.

Her glasses, that's all.

For knittin', she used to
wear her readin' glasses.

If she was watchin' television,
she'd wear her other ones.

And it was her other ones
she had on?

It's probably nothing.

Couldn't she have been knitting

while she was
watching television?

The cable knit for father Martin's
cardigan was too complicated.

In any case,
the television wasn't on.

What about the pattern...
Was it on her lap?

Come to think of it, it wasn't.

"Father Martin was right.

"It has helped me,
writing down all the details.

"Something important did happen,

and I need to
make the account complete."

He's here again?

Shit.

Good morning. Eric?

The leeks that you
gave to Margaret Monroe...

I'll get my sister. Karen!

No... I just wondered
if you wrapped them yourself.

In the newspaper.

Can you recall what newspaper
it would have been?

What is it?
Good morning.

Can't you see the
effect you have on him?

The newspaper
that your brother used

to wrap the leeks he gave
to Margaret Monroe?

He only buys one.
The sole bay gazette,

and it couldn't have been this
week's, 'cause that's in there.

So, last week's.

Sorry.

After you.
Thank you.

Weekend exodus.
Are you leaving too?

Not at the moment.

I've saved you the front seat.

Actually, I'm not leaving today.

Me, neither.

Really?
friend coming.

See you at dinner, then.

He knows nothing,
you know. Dalgleish.

Nothing about Ronald.

I saw him the day he died,
running past the piggery.

He was in a state.

Did you mention it
to the police?

Well, they asked
whether I thought

he had any reason
to commit suicide.

Running past the piggery
didn't seem like a reason.

What the hell are you
doing in here?!

Have you brought the papyrus?

Answer my question!

Why is Dalgleish here again?

I've been given the go-ahead
by the diocese

for the removal of
the first of the artworks.

Why do you hate us, archdeacon?

What is it that we've done
that you find so very irksome?

I don't hate you, Sebastian.

But if you're looking
for factors over and above

your lack of cost-effectiveness,

your elitism and your
over-privileged status,

you might take a look
at your untroubled saintliness,

a quality derived solely
from absenting yourselves

from the grubby taint
of reality.

And don't we send our priests
out into grubby reality?

Armed with a talent
for Greek translation

and a taste for expensive wine?

Then what are you offering?
Worship at lower unit cost?

Churches decked out from Ikea,

St. Anselm's

sold off for a drug rehab unit?

The Crampton project, maybe?

Crammed full of alcoholics.

Would that secure
your ascendance

in the bean-counter's hierarchy?

You're never called to
account here, none of you.

You treat commander Dalgleish

as though he's trespassed
on your person fiefdom.

Who knows what other corruption,

what secrets,
you might be hiding?

Likewise, archdeacon...

Likewise.

"Before
commander Dalgleish arrived,

"I'd been re-reading my account
of finding Ronald's body.

"As I unwrapped the leeks,

"that scene on the shore
was fresh in my mind.

"And then things came together
as clear as a photograph,

"and I remembered every gesture,

"every word spoken...
everything.

"Except the names.

"It was twelve years ago,

"but it could
have been yesterday.

"I knew that I must
tell the person most concerned.

"Once I had done that,
I would keep silent.

Two hours ago,
I told what I knew."

You must stay tonight.

I'm afraid I've requested
an autopsy on Margaret Monroe.

You must do
as you see fit, Adam.

What will be, will be.

In Margaret's journal
she talks about a secret,

about talking to
"the person most concerned."

That wasn't you?

Well, no.

Did you know she used to work
at ashcombe house

before she came here?

It's where Raphael's
mother died. Clara.

Yes, at different times,
I think, Adam.

She asked me to pray for her.

And did you?

No.

Good day for it.

You don't get this in London.

When I'm here...

Of course, I don't know
how welcome I am at the moment.

Father Martin
thinks the world of you.

He speaks very highly
of you, too.

We's orphans in the storm.

Are you?

An orphan?

I lost my mother young,

and a sister... my father
loved far more than me.

Car crash.

Conversation-stopper,
isn't it?

I thought I might as well
put it in a nutshell.

Why?

I don't know, really.

Maybe I thought I'd seen
the last of you too.

What's your nutshell?
Have you got one?

I don't suppose you came down
here to be interrogated.

No, no, you...

Surprised me, that's all.

My being here?
Or my question?

Both.

You give a good impression
of a man immune to surprise.

Do I?

I imagine it might
spill over from your work.

The temptation must be to keep your
private life on predictable lines.

I don't know if you know very
much about my private life.

I suppose I'm guessing.

And perhaps I shouldn't be.

I was going to come and see you.

I made my mind up sitting here.

Raphael said
he saw Ronald Treeves

in a state of distress
the day he died,

running towards the beach.

I don't think he told you.

No, he didn't.

Then I'm glad I did.

That nutshell...

You lost your wife.
Father Martin told me.

In childbirth...

And the baby.

I thought perhaps
I was ready to say it myself.

I think it's going to rain.

Come on, we'll get soaked.

I have to go now,
Mr. Stannard.

So, if you'd like to
borrow the book?

I'll read it here.

No stone left unturned, clive?

Raphael.

Have you put Yarborough off?

Can't reach him.

Have you told him archdeacon
Crampton is going to be here?

I told you, I can't reach him.

And he is talking about
taking the altar piece.

He can't do that.

He can't just start
ripping stuff off the walls!

Then get hold of Yarborough.

Keep him away.

I had told inspector Yarborough
he could use this set,

now I find that you're back, I
told them that you get priority.

Though I don't really
know why you should.

Now Emma lavenham's
staying, too.

If everyone gave notice
of their comings and goings,

none of this would be necessary.

There's plenty of rooms
where I am.

I'll sleep up there.
Please, it's fine.

Don't start changing everything!

Are you staying, inspector?
We need to talk. I am.

Anybody else anyone
would care to invite?

A male voice choir, perhaps?

Are you sure you're gonna be
okay up there? Yeah, fine.

Roger's had some setbacks,
but he's on the mend.

He's been a great help to me.

I just want to get back to work.

I'm trying hard to hang
onto my faith, commander.

The spiritual atmosphere here,
it helps... the peace.

Can't say there's much chance of
peace with the archdeacon here.

The archdeacon?

Crampton?

It'd do you good to face
up to the man, Roger.

Is that wise,
putting them together?

Kill or cure.

Who invited that man here?

Which man?

You know which man... Yarborough!
I've just seen him!

I didn't invite him.

You didn't prevent it.

He was suspended from the
force, did you know that?

Because of the way
he treated me?

Hounding me with his
allegations when Barbara died.

Hounding me beyond all reason.

Inspector Yarborough
is in need...

Of retreat.

The gloves are off, is that it?

How else to dirty my hands?

It's you, isn't it?

You that's behind this.

Speak to me, boy!

He was like a father to me...
Before.

John betterton?

It would never have got to court
if you hadn't pushed for it.

He pleaded guilty.

He pleaded guilty so that those boys
wouldn't have to perjure themselves.

Is that what he told you?
I spoke to them.

After he went to prison,
I spoke to them.

They as good as admitted
they'd made it up. Rubbish.

Do you think I wouldn't
know if he was a pedophile?

I think you would know, yes.

He's an innocent! That's all!

Or he was until
you got hold of him!

You did it for
your own sick reasons,

your own sick conscience at
the guilt of killing your wife!

Say that again,
and you'll never be ordained.

Be sure of it.

None of us will need
further exhortation

to pray once more
for our dear friend

Margaret Monroe.

In the name of the father,
the son, and the holy ghost.

Amen.

Sorry I'm late.

You've surely exhausted our
humble library by now, clive.

A true scholar always finds
more than meets the eye.

Be seated, please.

And feel free to talk.

We are dispensing
with the reading.

No, we're not.

He is certainly very well aware
that I do not drink that.

Ruby, would you be so kind as
to fetch the archdeacon...

A soft drink of his choice?

This is the first chapter from Anthony
trollope's barchester towers.

"Archdeacon grantly sits beside
the bed of his dying father.

Get me some water.

"In the latter days of July
in the year 1850,

"the most important question was
for ten days hourly asked

"in the cathedral city
of barchester,

"and answered every hour
in various ways.

Who was to be
the new bishop?"

There's going to be
trouble in there.

"Thus he thought long and sadly

"in deep silence,

"and then gazed at
that still-living face.

"And then, at last,
dared to ask himself

whether he really
longed for his wife's..."

I'm sorry...
"...His father's death."

Enough!

You think that's me?

You think that speaks to me?

Is that what you all think?

That those words
will break me down?

That any words spoken
in this... this...

slough of depravity and
insinuation will Pierce me?

You don't know me, boy.

None of you do.

Keep your food.
I have sustenance enough.

May the lord god almighty
Grant us a quiet night...

And a perfect end.

- Amen.
- amen.

I was talking to
a young priest last week,

newly ordained.

He'd recently had cause
to call at the old vicarage,

a six-bedroomed house,
detached.

Three of four years ago, before
it was sold to raise money,

it would have been his home.

He lives in a small semi
on a new estate nearby.

He said to me, "archdeacon,

"if I was living in
that huge old house,

I don't think I could look
my parishioners in the eye."

That young priest
is the future of our church.

A church that will not survive
to meet the needs

of a violent, troubled,

and increasingly
unbelieving century

unless it returns to
the fundamentals of the faith.

A church...

...that will not survive

unless it descends
from its ivory tower

and embraces the truth
of the gospel...

Embraces the people
as it finds them...

Embraces life as it is lived.

I thought you'd be gone
after compline.

The storm.
And Yarborough's here.

You're staying?

I'll read you to sleep.

But will you stay all night?

You killed her.

You killed her!

Look at you...
Skulking in the shadows.

You forced the tablets
down her, and the wine,

and then you
wiped the bottle clean!

You killed her!

You're an empty shell.

Your career's in shreds,
your nerves are shot...

What's left for you?

You killed her!

I won't be defeated.

I will not!

Say you will.

Say it.

I will.

Say it.
I will.

Barbara?

Barbara!

God forgive me.

Crampton.

Where are you?!

Unh!

Forgive us our trespasses...

Dear god, help me!

God...

Come away, father.

You can come away.
It's all right.

God!
what have we done?

He won't come away.

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