All language subtitles for Mary Queen of Scots (1971) EN

What is it? What is it?

My head! My head!

Are you mad?
Or do you wish my son dead?

No, madam. I love him.

I know that what you would have done
is stupid and reckless.

Don't touch him!
I forbid you to hurt him!

O Majesty!

Uncle.

Be patient my child.

The doctors maybe trusted
with the life of the king.

It is his third attack
in a month.

He may well die
of this illness.

We would be stupid not to consider
it, and your fate upon us if he does.

He will not die.
I will not let you talk of it.

Oh, yes, you will, Mary.

I shall be plainer
than my brother.

We of Guise, the family of
de Guise, have all finished.

If Franois dies, and there
is no child of your body...

I will not think of life
without him.

You must.

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

And the Queen of England
by right.

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

A woman who consorts
with her horse master

Beautiful, Robin.
Beautiful.

You write songs
as well as you sing them.

Your Majesty,
the composer of such a melody

rises far above my poor talent.

I came across the tune
when I was looking

through some old manuscripts
at the Greenwich Place.

I thought it might
amuse you to hear it.

Well, who wrote it?

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

before they were married.

Oh.

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

she countered by asking him
how his wife liked it.

By God, my mother had the courage
of ten, and so have you, you horse.

A message for the Queen.

Message for the Queen.

From Sir William Cecil,
my lord.

Your wife has been
found dead.

Of a broken neck
at the foot of a staircase.

I grieve for you,
Lord Robert.

Lady Dudley was alone
in her house.

There is talk of murder.

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

Now will the great scandal begin.
Now will my enemies rejoice.

What do your spies
at court say

the Spanish ambassador made
of this news?

He remained silent.

And the French ambassador?
He exults.

And says?

And says?

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

"For not even the Protestant
English will support

"the bastard and usurper, Elizabeth,
when she marries her horse master, Dudley,

"who has killed his wife
to make room for her."

He is innocent.

Let him prove it.

When I was in great danger
in my late sister's reign

he did not desert me.

Your Majesty,
you are in great danger now,

from Mary Stuart
and the Catholic cause.

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

Is she?

They say her husband
has fevers of the brain.

If he should die, what
direction would Mary turn?

Remember,

her mother rules
as regent in Scotland.

Mary Stuart's mother
does not rule in Scotland,

she tyrannizes Scotland
with the French army.

She forces the Catholic faith
down Scottish throats.

Half her nobles are Protestant

and in open rebellion rule,
you say.

She barely survives.

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

Nor your own Catholic nobles
who live in the north,

hard upon the Scottish border?

Why should I?

They are not persecuted.
I am no tyrant.

Scotland is the backdoor
to England.

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

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

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

The rumor is everywhere.
They are certain to rebel.

Bring him to trial in
open court, hide nothing.

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

Your Majesty!
Your Majesty!

Please, Franois, come in.
Please.

No, no, no, no.

I will ride from the pain.
It goes when I ride.

Please!

No, no. I must!

Franois, please!

Franois!

Franois!

Bring me a chair.

Please, come back inside,
Your Grace.

I must keep vigil
for the king.

Almighty God, if you love
Franois more than I do,

then take him to you,
but take me as well

for I have no wish
to live without him.

Your Majesty.

Who's there?

A Scottish lord.

Lord Bothwell, emissary from your brother,
Lord James Stuart, regent of Scotland.

James?

No, my mother is regent.

Madam, you mother is dead.

Your mother is dead.

No!

I'm sent ahead by your brother
to prepare you.

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

there is terrible disorder
in your land.

The clans already fight
for power.

This is my land.

You are needed in Scotland,
madam.

Franois!

Franois!

CATHERINE DE MEDICl: Enough!

Against my will,
my son married her.

Now, he's dead.

She's the cause.

Oh, no.

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

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

I will exile her from France.

Brother, help me.
What must I do?

You were always so kind to me,
when we were children together.

Tell me what to do now, James.

Mary, if you wish it, I will
take you home to Scotland

and there you will rule
as the rightful Queen.

You have no need of
foreign marriages or armies.

But would I be happy? Will
the people of Scotland love me?

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

She shall not.

Uncle, I must.

I cannot live out my years
in exile,

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

Will you help me, my lords?

Your Majesty.

Your Majesty.

My lords.

The usurper Elizabeth
will be my neighbor, yes?

She will.

Well, then, I will make
a new beginning with her

as well as my
Protestant subjects.

I will travel to Scotland
through England.

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

Never.

I would have no dealing with that lady,
and I will use force if I must,

to stop her returning
to Scotland.

That is unwise,
Your Grace.

Explain.

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

subservient to
a Protestant court,

she will soon arrive with
a Catholic army at her back.

Her uncles will see to that.

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

And what will prevent her
doing that now?

Are the Protestant lords
of the congregation in Scotland

so devoted to me?

Well, madam,
I am first amongst them

and I am devoted to peace
and order in our two lands.

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

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

If you value my friendship
you will keep that promise.

Then she shall come home.
Yes.

But not through my realm.

Duc de Guise, madam.

Uncle Franois!

Mary.

Is it from Elizabeth?

She refuses me safe conduct
through England.

She hates me.

She fears you.

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

You renounce nothing,

neither your voyage home
to Scotland,

nor your true claim
to the throne of England.

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

Madam, you are the English Queen.

Elizabeth is bastard
and heretic.

You're right.

Who's this priest, uncle?

He's Father Ballard,
your new chaplain and confessor.

An English priest?

But I'm no longer Englishman.

Or Frenchmen or Scotsman.

There are in all life and death matters
only two sorts of man,

Catholic and heretic.

Only a fool thinks otherwise.

I shall not forget it.

And this is David Riccio,
a singer from Italy.

I have traveled far
to serve you, Your Grace.

And we are far to go.
Walk with me.

Only two sorts of men,

which sort are the English priest
and the little Italian?

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

You may trust him
with your life.

The singer is
the agent of the Pope.

Yours will be
a Protestant court.

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

Ourselves in France, Philip in
Spain and His Holiness in Rome.

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

Promote him, slowly,
and trust him.

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

Andrew!

Move those lazy whores and peasants
before I take the flat of my sword to them.

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

Well, then you must stuff
your delicate ears, madam.

You are going to hear
many like it in Scotland,

when you've left the twitterings
of the French court behind.

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

Lord Bothwell, we now sail
direct to Scotland.

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

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

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

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

Shall I ride in triumph, Bothwell?
Will all be well?

Well, there's only one question,
Your Grace.

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

I shall rule the lords.

I wish you then, Queen
Mary Stuart, a fare journey.

Adieu, Franois.

Goodbye, dear France.
Goodbye.

I never thought to
be sad at returning home.

It's so long
since we all left there.

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

There will be two ships.

The Queen in one and Bothwell,
as escort, in the other.

Your sea captains
can take Bothwell's ship, here.

Why? It'll provoke French anger
and Scottish, to no purpose.

If I am to keep my promise,
we must cage Bothwell.

He's dangerous.

With him to help her,
Mary might find a way

to finish me
and rule Scotland alone.

But he is no papist.

He's worse.

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

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

Cannot?

I hope we catch him alive,
my lord.

I'd like to study
such a rarity.

Where are we,
in the name of God?

I don't know, Majesty.

The captain swears
this is the charted landing place.

Listen...

Jamie!

Good health to Your Majesty.
Welcome to Scotland.

James, what has happened?
Where are my people?

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

But you are here?

We rode hard
when the warning gun fired.

Your loyal lords of the congregation
welcome you.

Oh, I understand.

Then soon the royal guards will be here,
the carpet for me to stand upon the canopy.

There will be gun salutes?

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

Aye!

This is not France.

God bless Scotland.

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

My lords of the Congregation,

you do me great honor
to ride in such haste to meet me.

My good brother shows great wisdom
that he wastes no money upon ceremony.

Aye.

Good brother, I embrace you
for your wisdom.

And before these lords
I name you my Chief Minister.

God save the Queen!

God save the Queen!

I thank you, dear sister.
Bring the horses.

Bring the Queen's horses.

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

Your stable was
taken by the English.

Taken? How can that be?

They are in the other ship.
Bothwell has them safe.

His ship was captured.

It had no safe conduct
through English waters.

Elizabeth's ambassador
has already complained to me.

And Bothwell, is he dead?

They have him safely.

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

And yet you, brother,
know everything of its fate,

and the fate of Lord Bothwell.

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

Will you mount, your Majesty? It is
a sharp morning and we must move on.

Faster! Faster! Faster!

Well, Robin?

My wife's death is judged to be an accident.
I am declared innocent, Your Majesty,

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

Then you are indeed innocent.

So you may return to court.

If you permit it.

I order it.

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

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

If you would have me
constantly at your side,

then marry me, my love.

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

Then, madam,
I will come no more to court.

I will leave this land.

You shall not.

You are my Master of Horse.
When they jibe at me in Catholic Courts,

they say the Horse Master,
who mounts the Queen so freely,

would now put
a bridal on her.

You dare to
talk to me of marriage?

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

You are a commoner whose
head itches for a crown.

Attend to your common business,
Horse Master.

Keep the Scottish Queen's
horses well.

It may suit me to
return them one day.

The Scottish Queen...

Here's a pretty widow
for an ambitious lord.

Your grace?

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

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

Well, there you are, sister.
Your palace at Holyrood.

Mary Stuart!

God struck down your mother
and he will destroy you.

Who is this man?

John Knox, madam.

The leader of our church.

Of your church,
not mine, brother.

Hear me.

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

See what she brings with her,
a priest.

Better that she'd come
with French troops.

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

Monks, friars, priests...

Nuns and all such filthy persons.

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

Not to me, sir.

You defend the Mass?

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

Ride on.
No.

I will hear with patience
your ugly words, John Knox.

For you, like all my subjects,

shall have the free use of
your conscience and I of mine.

Ride on.

Papist whore.

You have humiliated me.

You shall keep your religion,
sister.

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

Am I to rule here?

We must have no illusions,
you and I.

We shared a father
in James the Fifth of Scotland.

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

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

this I accepted long ago.

I am not ambitious
for your crown.

I will resist any man
that tries to take it from you.

You are the Queen.

I am the Queen,
but you are to rule.

I want you to be happy.

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

But leave the troubles of state
to me.

Come, Mary.

A secret way
to the royal apartments.

Follow me.

Your bedchamber.

I persuaded your uncle,
the Cardinal,

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

Thank you. I thank
you with all my heart.

Here you will dine

and take your ease.

And this is where
we will hold council.

Your Presence Chamber.

Prepare yourself,
and in an hour

I will bring all the lords of Scotland
and present them to you.

You have made
a good beginning.

Remember, be discreet.

And consult me
in all things.

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

Stay out of the public eye,
priest,

and do not provoke
the lords of the Congregation.

And, Mary,
you may travel if you wish.

Scotland is a fine land.

I thank you, dear brother.

Dear sister.

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

Run away and play, he tells me,
as if I were a child.

Davie, I'm trapped.

Not yet, Your Grace.

He has me in a cage.

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

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

He is learning to
trust you.

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

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

You have allies. Your
uncles are first among them.

They will solve your problems
by finding you a husband.

A great prince.
A Catholic.

With an army at his back.

To deal with the good James Stuart.
Then you will march south, to England.

First, let us secure Scotland.
Is it possible?

It is certain.

Then I will marry quickly.

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

Did you smell those fine
Scottish lords? Mother of God.

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

Marriage, then,
shall be our policy.

The marriage of Mary Stuart
to any catholic prince

will be treated as an act of war
against England.

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

We will have no foreign power
upon our northern border.

We realize that our sweet young cousin
in Scotland has been deluded

by dangerous and self-seeking men.

So now we offer
a wise and just solution.

We have a plan
for the marriage of Mary.

We offer our most loyal
and loving subject,

Robert Dudley,
to Mary Stuart in marriage.

And we shall tomorrow create him Earl
of Leicester, that he is more worthy.

Mary will not take it.
She will rage against the insult as they do.

No, madam, I must object
again, most strongly

against this proposed marriage
between Mary and this gentleman.

My God, it is not my choice to go
north to that barbarous country?

It is mine.

A commoner,
a Protestant,

and the subject of scandal
and rumor? My choice.

However, I shall obey with a better heart
knowing I am opposed by Master Cecil.

You are not suitable.

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

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

And you can feel
a crown upon your head.

It is you I love.
Only you.

Then marry Mary.

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

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

And she will take him,
because I will send with him

the thing she most lusts after,

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

Go and prepare for your journey,

and go quickly before my heart
wins over my head.

Sweet Majesty.

Your Majesty,
you will regret this day.

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

Do you really believe
she will not take him?

I do.

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

though I mean the world to
think I do. Oh, no, William.

She shall not have
the brave and faithful Robin!

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

But first, with your help,

I must find a suitable ambassador
to bait the trap.

Out. Do not bolt the door.

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

Ah.

You're Cecil.

You give gold
to Scottish traitors.

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

And you may remain here in the tower
until your death.

You have no friends.

I have long had it in mind
to kill you.

I have it in mind
to release you.

The price?

That you speak honestly to your Queen,
for mine.

Here is the Deed of Succession.

Nothing is hidden.
I freely offer her the crown.

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

There is no signature,
Your Grace.

There will be.

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

she guarantees peace
between our two realms.

Then I will sign this sacred promise
and she will inherit all here,

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

Amen!

And I am to take your offer
in secret to my Queen.

That is all?
AII.

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

Not only will he see you
safely back to Scotland,

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

He will return to her Majesty
her fine stable of horses.

Lord Darnley is also a cousin,

a member of one of England's
oldest catholic families

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

Oh, he is the finest flower of our nobility,
gentle, brave and chivalrous

Are you ready, my lord?

Ready, Your Grace.

God give you
a good journey, my lord.

I charge you
to tell our cousin, Mary,

it is our deepest regret
that these fine horses were taken in error.

Say to her Majesty, "Elizabeth
most abjectly begs her forgiveness."

Trust me, Your Grace.

I do, good Henry,
to fulfill all my hopes.

Farewell, my lords.

Darnley looked beautiful,
did he not?

I wager you fifty gold crowns
Mary will take him.

Madam, it is too serious a matter
for gambling.

Cecil, you may be an expert
in matters of state,

but you know very little
of women.

Mary is a young widow.
Her blood is hot.

It's a strange thing,
I feel I know her.

We have never met
and yet I know her.

Your reasoning is beyond me.

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

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

And would I, in my pride,

ignore the document
of the Act of Succession

and look elsewhere for a husband
to spite my enemy?

No, madam,
you would not.

No, I would not.
But she will.

And supposing at this time

there should come to my court
a beautiful young man on a white horse,

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

would I not look upon him
with favor?

But with Dudley comes
the future crown of England!

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

That monarch is first a woman.

You would never ignore such
an offer for a pretty fellow.

This woman is first a monarch.

Here comes Robin.

Madam, you are wrong.
Now I am certain.

No woman would choose the boy
before the man.

I will accept your wager.

Fifty golden crowns she chooses
Dudley and the succession.

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

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

If she takes Darnley,
we have given nothing

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

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

Harry! Harry!

Oh, my love. My love.

Don't move.

Be still.

What a happy fall,
to have such a comfort afterwards.

There are tears
on your cheeks.

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

But...
Leave us!

Robin!

I am rejected.

She rejected me.

She kept me waiting five days
without an audience.

She flaunted herself before me
in the company of Darnley.

She dances with Darnley,
she dines with Darnley.

She rides with Darnley.

And has rejected you?

With insults.

Encouraged by Bothwell,
your honest messenger.

She spoke of me openly
as your cast-off lover

and far beneath any true Queen.

She must be demented.

Before my eyes she tore up
the document of succession.

But she consorts
with that boy!

That lewd, mincing,
pouting boy.

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

What kind of a woman, Robin?

Formed like a goddess.

More than I?
Is she better formed than I?

No. No, madam.

Well, does she dance
more elegantly?

No. But with a certain fire.

Oh, she is fiery! I had
heard that she was very dull

and sits by the hour sewing.

Does she play instruments
more skillfully than I?

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

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

Who knows.
But she speaks most charmingly.

She charmed you.

This woman who has offered me the most
deadly insult, charms you, my lord.

Oh, no, no, no, no.
I found her tiresome.

Liar!
Madam!

Liar! Liar! Liar!
Madam! Madam! Madam!

You were as eager as a
young lover to ride to her.

To wed and bed her.

I went only at your command.

I love only you. Oh!

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

My part?

Oh, it is her loss
if she rejects you.

Oh, how glad I am
to have you home.

Now tell me truly,
I am no longer angry.

Is she really as beautiful
as they say?

Well, she is quite beautiful.

Get out! Out! Out!
I have it in me to send you

to cool your passion for her...

Get out! Out!

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

for then she must marry Darnley,
and I have won.

You seem very rich, Davie.

I am valued.

No. You are hated.

But not by you,
sweet Harry.

The commoner.
The detested, little foreigner.

You are jealous
of my influence.

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

I have the right to be a king.

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

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

I thought you loved me.

I love the Queen better,
and I think it a cruel act

to help put you
between her sheets.

You want to keep me
between yours?

Oh, Edinburgh is
full of pretty boys,

and like you,
I have a taste for a woman as well.

I shall not lack comfort.

We are outcasts
in this court.

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

Like it or not,
sweet Harry...

We must hold to each other.

The Queen!

Working. Always working.

I could not sleep.

Nor I.

Davie, you must advise me.

If I can, Your Grace.

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

because we are told
if I marry a foreign prince

there will be war
with England?

It is true.

But...

What if I married
an Englishman?

Englishman?

Harry Darnley.

Answer me. Is he a good match?

Will the holy father
give his blessing to us?

I cannot deny it.

I believe it is God's will
that both wise policy

and my deepest longings
are fulfilled in him.

I love him.

It is the good fortune of Queens to choose
where other women must wait to be chosen.

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

And your master
if you make him King.

Oh, no, I am the Queen.
He will be my consort.

He will understand that
if he loves me.

Who could fail
to love Your Majesty?

But will the Scottish lords
hate him, Davie?

No more than any other
foreigner set over them.

What would James say?

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

Pray for me, Davie.

Does she often
visit you at night, Davie?

Oh, we work here in secret.

Is it only for state matters
that she comes?

You have the mind of a brothel keeper.
Did you not listen at the door to find out?

I listened,
but the door was too thick.

Harry...

If I speak for you
with the Queen,

will you at all times
give her first place,

acknowledging her the
true monarch of this realm?

No. I will be the master.

Then I will oppose you.

"I choose him, Davie."

When will she find the courage
to ask me? Will it be tomorrow?

Do not betray her.
I warn you.

"What a fine king he will make..."

Listen to me.

No, listen to her.

"I must have him, Davie."

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

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

Kiss it, Davie.

Come.

Kneel to me.

Kneel.

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

Say it, Davie.

It is in God's hands, Henry...

But you are reckless
to scorn your only friend.

Now the sly little Italian
will try poison against me.

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

He fears to lose his place.

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

It's in mine.

Admit the Lord James Stuart.

Madam, what is so important
that I am summoned from Council

and then kept waiting at your door?

Dear brother,
I wish you to make preparations

for my marriage to Henry, Lord Darnley.

I forbid that.

He is a Catholic.
And neither I nor John Knox...

John Knox, that hypocrite
who has just married a girl of 15.

That aged lecher
who hides behind the words of God.

Madam,
you forget yourself.

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

I will marry Henry,
Lord Darnley.

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

Guards!

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

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

David Riccio, I choose
you as my Chief Minister.

James Stuart, Earl of Moray,
I banish you from my kingdom.

Give up your keys and seals
of office to Master Riccio.

Riccio, you are a Catholic.

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

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

Truly I am
of the old religion

and we shall have such a re-birth of it in
this land as will rejoice the hosts of heaven!

Your Majesty,

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

I will not take that advice.

But I shall give it to you.

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

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

I will not begin my reign
like a tyrant.

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

We must prepare for my
marriage to Lord Darnley.

And with my body,
I thee worship.

And with all my worldly chattels,
I thee endow.

And with all my worldly chattels,
I thee endow.

In the name of the Father...

In the name of the Father...

...and of the Son...

...and of the Son...

...and of the Holy Ghost.

...and of the Holy Ghost.

Amen.

Amen.

I am so happy,
I dare not speak of it.

What is that?

A gift, Your Grace. From my
Lord Bothwell to the Queen.

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

Return it.

The Lord Bothwell
bade me tell you

that when you have need of the
sword from which this jewel is taken,

then send me Andrew
to summon him.

Yes, I will, good Andrew.

Harry, look!

If you keep it,
you do not love me.

I love you dearly.

Then do what I ask.

I demand it as your husband.

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

You shall rule above all
others, save the Queen.

I am the King.

I will be obeyed.

I am the King!

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

Morton, Ruthven, Huntly,
you shall serve me.

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

Your Grace!

I am the Chief Minister,
I will serve you.

I will kneel to serve you
if you wish it.

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

No.

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

I, your King, order it.

No, Your Majesty...

I ordered you to
sit with me, Davie.

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

Come, my lords.

All servants, get out!
Get out!

We have
better servants here.

Sit by the Queen,
Master Riccio.

It is your right,
for you are the Chief Minister.

My lords...

You see how I am obeyed,
Madam?

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

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

They obey me.

When the Queen is served, serve the
Chief Minister, serve him before me.

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

Now their hatred for you will be so great,
Davie, they'll have none left for me.

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

My Queen.

Therefore I drink a toast
to my firstborn.

Your Majesty...

Be seated.

I sent for you to
thank you for your gift.

Why are you
leaving Edinburgh?

Now that you have chosen a King it is time
I left the court to care for my own affairs.

But I need you here,
Bothwell.

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

He will lead your army,

put down such of your lords
as intrigue against you

and make wise policy,
I have no doubt.

Do you oppose my marriage?

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

I will not be mocked.

"Mocked"?

I could not find words
to mock a Queen of Scotland

who chooses a smooth-faced boy
as her master

and a base-born Italian
as her Chief Minister!

Go then! Leave the court!
Stay from it!

Bothwell.

You've grown poor
in my service, you say?

I have.

You shall be paid off,
my lord.

I can manage
well enough without.

Spare me your arrogance.
I will give you money!

Keep it to buy suits
for your husband.

Why are you angry?

Do you fear you are displaced?
Are you jealous?

You could say, Your Majesty,
with truth

I am jealous.

Then you are foolish.

I need your help, Bothwell,
to keep order in this country.

And in due time
we will march south.

We will destroy that heretic Elizabeth,
and I will rule my two Kingdoms,

as I was ordained to do,
if God is willing.

Will you stay at court
and help me?

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

When?

When I have married for money,
Your Grace.

Married?

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

Now I know who is King here.
This upstart!

And you come creeping
to him at night.

That's not my child you're
carrying, it's his bastard!

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

You have both betrayed me.

That's why
he speaks against me.

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

I am your enemy,
not the Queen!

Now go.
You disgust me!

I disgust you?

You loved me.

You loved me.
Now I disgust you.

I'm lost.

I'm lost.

Hawk Master!

Your Majesty!
What is it?

The King,
Your Majesty.

Mary!

Keep the others
at a distance, Seton.

The Queen bids you rest.

Mary!

Mary!

Mary!

You must return at once.
At once.

Why are you shouting?
Are you drunk as ever?

No. No. Forgive me, Mary, but
there is a plot and you must return.

Plot? Are you ill?

I'd like to believe that, for then I
could forgive you the bitter shame and pain

you've caused me
these past few months.

Your own guards turned me back
from the Royal apartments.

When I drew my dagger on them they
threatened to kill me... To kill their King.

You are not the King. You are
the King consort. That is all.

You're merely Henry, Lord Darnley
who married a queen.

If that queen dies,
you will be Henry, Lord Darnley again

and have no rights to the crown.

It was you!

You ordered them
to keep me back!

Yes. Your habits disgust me.

You have shamed me. The whole
court will ridicule me, Madam.

Then leave the court!

I'm forbidden your bed?

You shall never
come near me again.

Ride home, my lord.
You have new apartments.

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

I will be revenged!

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

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

We believe you are much
wronged, Your Grace.

By God, I am.

The papal spy, Riccio,
has bewitched the Queen.

There is talk of their meeting
in his room at night.

State business,
they say.

They say you are cuckolded,
my lord.

Lies!

It is an unnatural thing
for a woman to rule.

And it is most unnatural
that the great lords of Scotland

shall sit in council to be lorded over
by the little papist

when there is a King
in the land.

You mock me. Look, I am not the King.
I am the King consort, a puppet King,

shut out from all power.
You know this.

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

We, the Council, will grant you
the crown matrimonial to rule here,

to be the first in the land.

If this is done, Your Grace,
you will rule even if the Queen is dead.

King Henry the First
of Scotland and the Isles!

Long live the King!
Long live the King!

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

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

The Queen is a papist.

All papists.

I agree.

We have drawn up this covenant.

On our part we pledge you the crown

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

You will cut Davie's throat?

There is no word of killing
in the bond.

And if need be you will kill

one other?

We have all signed the bond.

And no man among you
dare betray the other.

It is a good Scottish custom.

It lacks one signature.

On your part, you will hold
us innocent and defend us,

even in the presence
of the Queen herself,

no matter what action
we have to take.

Is that all?

You will pardon and recall
James Stuart, Earl of Moray.

Agreed.

Then sign, Your Majesty, and hasten
the great day of your coronation.

On one further condition.

Name it.

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

She must come to no harm

before that moment.

Is this true?

That is a copy
from our ambassador.

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

Everyone.

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

He has.

So much for marriage.

The Lord James Stuart is ready
to travel to Scotland.

So?
He must have money

to hold the lords in his payroll.

Then let him find it elsewhere.

But, Madam, everything that
you hoped for has happened.

Now we must support
our Protestant friends.

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

Where is my name on it?

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

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

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

The lady is with child, a child that
could one day be King of England.

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

I desire her to be without power
but not dead.

By God,
if it were not for policy,

I have it in me to ride north
into her very palace

and warn her of what is to come.

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

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

Then let them
find the means elsewhere!

Majesty...

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

then her shadow would
be lifted from you.

Master Cecil, pay James
Stuart 3,000 crowns in gold

and send him home
on a fast horse.

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

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

Almighty God, I thank thee for the endless
ambition of Robert Dudley to be king,

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

against her will,
but to Thy glory.

Amen.

Where are they?

In the turret.

Elizabeth is so demanding
of the gentleman's affection

he'd never be reconciled
with his own wedded wife

for fear the royal anger.

Why are you here?

If it please Your Majesty,

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

It is by my command
that he is here.

He has offended your honor!

Your mind is full of fantasies.
You have a fever.

Escort Lord Ruthven away
and lock the doors.

Lay not hands on me!

Oh, God! Save the Queen!

Oh, God, Harry.

Save me! Save me!

In the name of God,
I'll save you.

Save me!
Oh, my God!

No!

Riccio! Kill him!

Stop it! Stop it! Stop them!

And this is from the King.

Losers!

Oh, no, Your Grace,
speak gently to His Majesty.

I will never rest until you have
a heavier heart than I have now.

Be silent!

That in my belly will be
revenged on you all!

If you live!

Silence, my lords!

Do not threaten the heir
to Scotland.

He shall be born, but we shall keep
this queen imprisoned from that time.

"Imprisoned from that time"?

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

The heir, we will bring up to
the Protestant faith,

and you shall be our perpetual prisoner.

The child!
I believe it is the child.

Harry!

Help the Queen to her bed.

Take her gently.

Hurry here.
With all care.

My lords,
give us privacy!

If the queen is in labor
after these dreadful events

then there must be calm.

Come, my lords.

I will stay.

The palace is guarded.

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

I have chosen.

Forgive me.

Forgive me.

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

We must escape tonight
or we are lost.

And we must take my husband with us or
the lords will use him to seize the Crown.

Madam, how?

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

Find Andrew. If possible,
he could bring us horses.

Be brave.
God will watch over you.

Harry!

What's become of your pain?

Why are you here?

Forgive me, Harry, our child is
still alive, it is not yet time.

I have never betrayed you, but I have
wronged you and I beg your forgiveness.

It's too late.

No, I swear it is not.

You shall be the King without
being elected by those murderers,

but I'm in terror for you,
Henry.

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

What can I do?

What can I do?

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

Trust me.

Hurry!

For God's sake, hurry!

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

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

Father, Davie...

I know.
The Lord Bothwell is waiting.

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

Yes, I can ride.

Have we enough horses?

Aye, Madam,
you shall ride with me.

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

And hurry.

But if we are caught, they will cut us
into collops and feed the dogs by us.

Andrew!

Welcome to Hermitage.

My sanctuary, Madam.

Thank you, my lord.

Are you all right?

Indeed, I am

and in good spirits.
Come, let us go in.

Who is this lady?

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

Was?

She is now Lady Bothwell.

Welcome to Hermitage Castle,
Your Majesty.

You were married.

Yes, Madam.

Help me,
the child is coming!

I gave you no permission
to marry, my lord.

Take her in quickly.

Well?

Scotland has a new prince.

Oh, no!

The Queen of Scots is
lighter of a fair son.

I am but barren stock.

I kept it from her
as long as I dared,

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

They're defeated?

Yes.

Bothwell raised an army
and put them to flight.

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

Stuart is under siege
at Dunbar.

Stuart!

All right?

Rouse yourself, James,
don't you hear the pipes?

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

Your Majesty,
the rebels are defeated.

Dunbar is yours.

The Queen has triumphed!

Where is my brother?
Is he dead?

No. I've saved him
for the scaffold.

Then let him make his will
and say his prayers,

for I shall hang him
before tonight.

You cannot hang me
without killing your husband.

I took no part
in Riccio's death...

Liar.

...but your husband was there.

He signed the murder bond
with the Scottish lords.

It is a forgery.

It is a copy.

The original is
safely hidden in England.

No court will condemn me
without him.

And even you, great Queen,
cannot act without due process of law.

Then, by God,
I will act with it.

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

Bothwell,
let us do it now.

Will you split the kingdom?

Hang the Stuart line?

If you accuse brave Harry,
he will shout from the rooftops

that your child is Riccio's bastard,
and that you were Riccio's whore.

And that the killing was
the just execution of a commoner

who had committed high treason
by cuckolding the king.

No!
We do not need the law!

Your brother will have died
of his wounds in battle.

No.
For myself I care nothing,

for the shame I care nothing,

but I dare not give the heretics of Scotland
and England a case to use against my son.

And I will not risk his inheritance
even for the pleasure of your death.

Scotsmen, here is your future king,
James VI of Scotland.

And in good time,
James I of England.

I am the Queen by right of birth
and right of arms.

And tyranny, I detest.

I practice the old religion
but I tolerate the new.

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

The better part of justice
is mercy,

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

I pardon James Stuart,
Earl of Moray.

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

But I...
He hates me.

Not as much as he hates me,
Your Grace.

Put a good face on it,
for policy's sake.

We are deceiving the people.

Take my hand, sire.

A man who first betrayed
the Queen

and then betrayed his fellow conspirators
is like a leper...

Must be glad of a friend.

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

Or yours.

Leave me go!

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

People look through me
like I'm a ghost!

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

To your bed!

No, Madam.

I will go to your bed...

Either that or I'll leave the country.
I shall go to Italy, to the Pope.

He will annul our marriage.

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

which cousins must
have to marry.

Villain!

Annulment will make your son
a bastard!

I know. I know. And she will do
anything to save her son's inheritance

as the future King...

So come to bed, sweet wife.

Bothwell!

Leave us!

And quickly,

I have a great appetite.

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

And bring me some wine.

Even though I disgust you,

you will love and fondle me

and have me by your side
again as King.

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

Have you killed him?

No...

I came to do you
that service.

He's drugged.

He's diseased.

Diseased?

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

He is poxed.
He will rot with it.

Merciful God!

An honorable end is
better than this.

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

Once more.

"I have departed the court
with my Lord Bothwell

"You will await my return

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

"lords who murdered Riccio

"They are therefore pardoned
by the mercy of their Queen

"Soon you shall meet them again"

I am betrayed.

I brought him home
to lie in Scottish soil.

On his deathbed,
we swore vengeance.

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

He's sick of the pox.

He cowers in his bed.
He'll not fight.

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

Nobody cared about the death
of a little foreigner.

Everyone will care about
the murder of a king.

His Majesty has a house outside
the wall of Edinburgh

where he took his whores
and his young men.

Kirk o' Field.

He plans to murder Mary Stuart
in that house.

He has filled the cellars
with gunpowder.

He means to go there
with the Queen

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

And then...

Blow her up!

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

Nobody chooses gunpowder, Stuart,
in these hard times.

Nevertheless, the cellars
at Kirk o' Field are full

of gunpowder.

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

I think that he will bungle his attempt
on the Queen and blow himself up.

Can you help us?

Bury your dead.
Leave the rest to me.

Next he will lord it over us.

For a while...
A very little while.

And so we safely arrived
at Kirk o' Field

I have obeyed you, my love,

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

which is the wrath of God
upon his vile nature

So what is planned is no sin

But God forgive me if I do wrong

And after your divorce
we shall be man and wife

And you shall be no puppet king
but the master

For the first time I am loved and fulfilled

I have turned my back on God for you
So be true to me, my love, be true

Andrew?
My lord.

Get ready.
We leave for Edinburgh.

There is work for you to do.

Aye, my lord.

It is time to leave,
Your Grace.

You promised to stay.

It is Fleming's marriage feast,
so I must go. I will return.

Why'd you keep Davie's guitar.
Why'd you play it?

Is it to anger me once more?

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

Davie is dead.
Let him go.

Yes, it is just a year.

Pity me, kinsmen.

For the sake of Jesus Christ.

Pity me!

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

You told me so.
I would...

Death is death however it comes.

Now we must look to our future.

The Ambassadors of France
and Spain, Your Majesty.

And of Scotland.

We are mourning
the late King Henry of Scotland.

We mourn because the Scottish Court
does not.

He was once our subject.

We are shocked
at his abominable murder.

We are astounded
at what followed.

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

His clothes, his goods, his horse
and his armor were given to Lord Bothwell.

Voices cry out
that Bothwell is the murderer.

The Scots have risen in rebellion.

Catholic and Protestant, lord and peasant,
combine to destroy the tyrant Bothwell.

And yet Queen Mary Stuart
has married him.

It was once said
in Catholic courts

that Elizabeth would marry her horse master
who had murdered his wife.

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

I have not married.
Leicester is innocent.

My people did not rebel
and Mary Stuart does not rule here.

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

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

How she longs to
hear of Mary's death.

And how she dreads it.

No, no, no.

What is it?

A dream.

A dream.

Be thankful it is not James Stuart
knocking on the door.

I am full of fears
waking and sleeping.

All my forces will
be here by day.

I sent the messengers three days ago.
Do not be afraid.

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

They're all round us.

We can hold them
till my men come.

Bothwell. Bothwell!
Show yourself, or are you afraid?

I will speak with him.

I am here, Stuart.

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

It is you we have come for.

I will not go down.

Bothwell, have you the courage
for single combat?

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

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

I will cut him to pieces.

No, I will not let you go.

I will not be shamed, Mary.

Our forces will be here within an hour and
then I will see you hanged from these walls.

You waste your breath. Roy!

There are your messengers.

Come now and fight.

That I will.

Andrew!
Andrew, bring my armor.

And when he comes down,
we will cut his throat.

Jamie, you must not go down.
They will kill you as they killed Davie.

I will fight.
I will finish it this time.

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

No.
It leads beyond the castle ground.

Andrew will guide you.

No. Let us go together. I
beg you. You will not be seen.

I will not be dishonored.

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

You are no match
for the treachery of these times.

Seton! Seton!

Mary. I beg you,
do not disgrace me.

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

Rouse the Borderers yourself. I am
still the Queen. While I live I reign.

Do not do this.

Goodbye, my dear love.
Go now.

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

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

God help us.

I shall watch the combat
from here, brother.

You shall not wait long.
My husband is determined.

I cannot dissuade him.

The Deed of your Abdication.

It is the will of the lords

and of the people

that you sign it.

I will never abdicate. I am
the Queen. I will die the Queen.

Huntly.

In this casket are your letters
to Lord Bothwell

which prove that you are a murderess
and that you led the King to his death.

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

No.

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

He did not escape.
I have him.

It's not true.

Tomorrow I shall hang him.

No. No. No.

No. No. No.

Will you sign
the Deed of Abdication?

Never!

Jamie! Jamie!

Mary, my love.

Jamie.

Jamie.

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

No.

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

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

If I can persuade you
to abdicate.

Oh, Jamie.

Now listen to me, Mary.
I'm an ambitious man hungry for life,

but I do not fear death.

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

The Scottish lords demand
your trial and execution.

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

He lies. He wants me dead, too.

No. Above all, he's a Stuart.
He'll save you if he can.

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

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

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

No.

You are Mary Stuart, the Queen.
Remember what you said to me.

"While you live, there is hope."
Cling to that. We shall not be separated.

One day I shall return
for you with an army.

Until then, my love,

I hold you close to my heart.

Well?

Death or exile?

The English border is
two miles from here.

I bid you farewell.
We shall not meet again.

So you must hope.

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

My son, my son,
God help him.

Seton, in this little time until we reach
the English border we are quite free.

Free. How it eases the heart.

And I have good hopes.

I shall overcome all and
be united with my Bothwell.

I am but five and twenty years of age.
I have my whole life before me.

Free! Free!

God help us if Cecil finds out
about this.

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

The Catholics of the North have
flocked to pay her homage

since she came
over the border.

At Carlisle she held Court even.

Is she mad to behave
so blatantly?

I feel I may have misjudged her
all these years.

She has never learnt discretion.

Well, is it discretion for me
to meet her in secret?

It is imperative.

It's said you have
a wolf by the ears, madam.

Well, let us
look at the animal.

Stay here!

Sweet cousin.

Dear sister and cousin.

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

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

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

Indeed, madam,
you are right.

The crime of my lords
against their anointed queen

is so great it buries all past differences
between us.

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

I see that
you have courage.

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

And you are young.

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

You have come to
ask me for an army?

Yes, an army,
supplies, money.

And money?

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

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

For be assured there is
no waking hour in my day

when you are
far from my thoughts.

Your fate is
linked with mine.

We are princes both.
We are joined by blood.

What else have you to tell me
or to ask of me?

Nothing.
Nothing?

Why? What else could there be?

Some helpful word concerning
the murder of Lord Darnley.

Yes, of course.

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

That gives me great joy.

For when you are honorably acquitted
of the crime of which you are accused

then you shall have your army
and your money.

Cousin,

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

I came to recover my honor.

If you dare to doubt my word
that I am innocent,

then I will go at once
to France.

You shall not.

Madam, in the past you have sheltered those
very traitors who now rule in Scotland.

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

Do you offer me less
than my treacherous subjects?

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

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

I shall take you deeper into
England for your protection.

Then I am your prisoner.

If you are innocent,
what have you to fear?

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

I will answer no accusations.

Who is there who may try me?
Who is my equal?

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

You lack the courage.
You hope to dishonor me.

It is you who are dishonored.

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

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

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

That is not the conduct
of a Queen.

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

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

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

And you, madam, who hate me
and wish me dead and fear to kill me,

you are my mortal enemy.

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

all the blows you have
struck against me.

I glory in your hatred.

For it is clear to me
that Elizabeth, the bastard,

the heretic, the usurper,
is cursed by God,

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

Above all it is clear
that Elizabeth fears Mary.

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

You have noted all the blows
I struck against you.

AII.

All save one.

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

Darnley?

Any Queen who could be guiled
by such a pretty, wicked fellow

and take him to her bed,
and put a crown upon his head,

does not inspire fear.
She inspires pity.

You have my pity, madam, as you had
it on the day I sent Darnley north,

knowing you to be
without wisdom, discretion

or any of the attributes
of a Queen.

I see you have
learned nothing since.

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

as an infamous royal whore.

Madam.

My lord, I urge you to
guard your mistress well

for there are many
who would wish her dead.

Now I have no choice.

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

May it be soon.

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

Yes.

Sir.

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

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

Very well.
Leave them.

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

No need to waste time on these,
Your Grace.

Father Ballard!

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

Mistress Seton, do put an ear to
the door and give us good warning.

Aye, Father.

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

Another?

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

This one is different.
Read the letter, madam.

Very well.

What news have you from Scotland?
How is my dear son, James?

I have written to him ever since
I judged him able to read,

but not one reply
in all these years.

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

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

The letter, Your Grace.
Read it quickly.

Just one more question.

Have you any news of my husband,
Lord Bothwell?

Lord Bothwell has died,
insane, in a Danish prison.

Oh, Father.

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

Then will I hear your confession,
my sovereign lady?

Yes, Father Ballard,
it is time.

We need safeguards.
The risk is great.

It follows the pattern of similar plots,
similar to the one in Northumberland.

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

No. I will not
have Mary killed.

Why am I driven to bloodshed?

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

Until Mary came
into England.

Leave us!

Madam, I beg you,
open your eyes.

Since the Pope has excommunicated you
for keeping Mary prisoner,

your Catholic subjects have
been torn in two.

Whom should they serve,
Pope or Queen?

They risk the block in this world
if they rebel

and Hell in the next
if they do not.

Keep this fact always before you.
It is now no sin to kill you.

To the Catholics
it is the act of a Saint.

I am ill.
I will hear no more.

Destroy Mary,
and all problems wither away.

No.

I fear her execution. It threatens me.
She is an anointed Queen as I am.

If I bring you proof
that she plots to kill you?

No. Written proof. Irrefutable proof.

Is there such proof?

There will be.

William!

No forgeries. The evidence must stand
up before the people and the parliament.

It has always been, from the
beginning, her death or mine.

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

We have the rest, Babbington, Tichbourne,
Charnock, Gerrard. We have them all.

It was a great conspiracy.

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

You are wrong.

This good fellow is
from Spain.

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

She endorses the murder of Elizabeth
as the main spring of the plot.

Now we have her.

"To His Holiness,
the Pope."

"From King Philip of Spain."

"From an English gentleman."

And another.

And yet another.

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

And now, my lord?

It has taken me years
to trap you, madam.

Now you will come to justice.

No matter the evidence,
I fear a terrible retribution

if I sign her death warrant.

Your Grace, until you decide,
she must be shut away

where no more traitors can reach her.

Where will you send her?

Fotheringhay Castle.

Jeez you, that evil place.

My heart goes out to her.

I have brought you
proof positive.

If she begs forgiveness of me,
she shall live.

Fotheringhay.
Am I to be murdered here?

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

Forgive me, I must sit.

The bitter winters
of my imprisonment

and the damp that runs down
English walls has entered my bones.

My council, my parliament
and my people

demand that I bring you
to trial.

Like your father to your mother,
will you permit me the sword

and spare me the dull axe?

Madam, do not play with me.

From the moment
of your imprisonment

I have lived in constant fear
of assassination.

Your assassins, madam,
your followers.

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

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

So make no jokes with me
about death.

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

I want to spare you,

but you must beg my forgiveness.

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

Yes.

I knew of the plans for your
death. I was glad of them,

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

it is another matter.

I am glad
you have been spared.

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

That is not enough. Write it.

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

I will keep the letter quite secret
from all save my Chief Minister.

I am offering you your life.

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

after these years of darkness
and defend myself.

I thank God in his mercy and
wisdom he has brought me to it.

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

Nothing can prevent it.

No man is my judge. Not even you,
madam, may judge me now, only God.

How little you have changed.

How wildly you rush to your destruction.

Your letters to Bothwell, madam.

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

What will the world think when,

after the details of the plots
to murder me are revealed,

we turn to the past?

Your life is steeped in blood
and violence.

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

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

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

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

or will it cast you down forever?

Oh, God!

Write one short page to me and I will
spare you the trial and you will live.

For the first time in your life
put aside your personal desires

and behave like a Queen.

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

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

Jeez you.

In all my early years
I was misled and betrayed.

I sinned most grievously.
I lost my faith.

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

I have made my peace
with God.

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

And he has brought me here
to die in glory.

I was greatly punished.

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

I have been shut away for
many years in abject misery

and now I must die.
It is my destiny.

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

I leave to you the pomp,
the power, the intrigue

and all that a prince
in this world must endure or may enjoy.

Nothing you can say or do
will avoid my martyrdom.

So now it is I who pity you.

For you cannot avoid
ordering the thing

you have always feared
more than death itself,

the judicial murder
of an anointed Queen.

It will torment you
to the end of your days.

Robin!

My lord.

I shall pray for your mistress, Elizabeth,
at the moment of my death.

Madam, if your head had
matched your heart

I would be the one awaiting death.

O Lord,

I put my trust in you.
Do not let me be confounded.

It is time, madam.

Do not weep. I am happy.
Yes, I am. I'm happy.

Goodbye, dear.

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

Pray for me.

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

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

You are my hope
even from my youth.

I am become, as it were,
a monster to many,

but my trust shall
always be in you.

Oh, let my mouth be
filled with your praise,

that I may sing of your glory
and honor all the day long.

Forsake me not
when my strength fails me.

Go not far from me, O God.

My God, hasten to help me.

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

My lips will be fain when I sing unto you

and so will my soul
whom you have delivered.

Forgive me, madam.

I forgive you
with all my heart.

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

For in my end
is my beginning.

Lord, into your hands
I commend my spirit.