All language subtitles for Midsomer.Murders.S08E04.Bantling.Boy.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Unharn the maid, or perish!

Never! I'll unhorse you here!

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

How is he, Foley?

Ready to run for his life, boss.

Good.

Because I'm putting a
real jockey up on him

for tomorrow's race.

Top rider from Newmarket.

You can't do this.

You need a rider with a bit of class,
don't you, boy?

The race is mine.

You owe me.

I owe you nothing.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Manly boy's eating up the ground.

Pulling double.

Jake's done wonders with him.

I'm the damn trainer, Marianna.

How many years since your last winner?

He'll win the cup.

And then maybe even
you might find it in yourself

to give me some damn credit.

Go!

Car theft, Scott.

Our superintendent is hoping
for something better.

Me too, sir.

It's a nice outfit, sir.

Mrs. Barnaby chose it for you.

Yeah, she did.

I'm off to the charity event,
Causton Races.

Oh, you can have yourself a flutter.

Certainly not.

Some mugs going, that's what.

-I don't know.
-I enjoy a punt on the horses,

studying form.

Well, plenty of form there
for you to study, Scott.

Enjoy.

Bye.

Go on, get your glad rags on,
we'll make a day of this.

Sam, I told you, I'm already committed.

They're here!

♪♪

Sir Peter! How about you?

Die, Violet!

Surrender, saucy name!

-Die!
-Put that back immediately, Geoffrey!

Sorry, Angela! Sorry!

Morning, Lady Hartley.

-Morning.
-Come on, Joe.

We've got a horse to shoot.

Peter.

Thanks for having him.

Now, you be good.

He always is.

♪♪

Is she coming?

Yes. She's still on the phone.

Oh.

It's work, Tom. She's up for a part.

Well, we missed the first race.

Ah!

I have an audition.

Oh, that's great, Cully.

-What is it?
-Oh, to play Hero.

Shouldn't that be heroine?

No, Dad.

Hero's a woman.

It's Shakespeare.

Much ado about nothing.

Let's hope this time it isn't.

He's turning a late run in,
and Trumbay's going to come through.

Burmese jockey to the face,
but he's empty and punctured.

Trumbay's going to win race. race.

The next race is the Causton Gold
Cup, sponsored by Tate's Bread. Bread.

The local hopeful,
Battling Boy, is owned

by Syndicate of Midsomer Villages

and is trained by Bruce Hartley.

Well, he's been working terribly
hard for the last year.

He's come on tremendously well.

We've got the right man
on top of him today as well.

He's a very genuine man, so...

More than can be said for you.

Five rounds for a promise
to be a very good team.

500 to win, Bantling.

£15,005.

Ticket, 74.

Thank you, Governor.

Steady. I know my job, Mr. Hartley.

You must be gutted.

I'm gutted, Bruce, aren't I?

That's for sure.

Been going since I retired
the horse guards.

Wife thinks I'm mad,
but is the world any saner, Barnaby?

How many rescue horses
have you got at Fallowfields now?

Too many.

But horses have rescued me often enough,

hauling artillery over the
Italian mountains in 45.

Splendid creatures.

Yes, indeed they are.

Dad?

Oh, hi, Victor.

Can I borrow your wallet for a second?

Why?

We're going to put a bet on.

Yes.

Smile like a sunburst.

That girl of yours hasn't changed
since her pony club days.

Jockey's mounting up now.

A winner playing up a
little bit will be followed out

by back in order by son winner.

And wearing the colors
of Bruce Hartley yard.

Yeah, can I have 50 pounds to win,
please, on Hawksfield?

That's 3.30 in the Causton Cup.

-Thank you.
-You've done your money there, Squire.

Bantling boy of a romp-hole.

Gonna win me plenty.

Oh, yeah.
You got the mortgage on him, have you?

I own the leg of it.

That horse could win
pulling a milk float.

I'll show you six
to four of the betting.

And here comes Simon Winter
on badling boy,

just catching up to post.

Just a five runners then
for this afternoon's big race.

But it's a real feeler.

Letting the souls down.

That's how it's supposed to be.

He's in there, okay.

just about set now.

With Indian tonic
on the rails and carbonite

moving well behind her,
but it's Hawksbill moving along free

I told him to drop him out. No! He needs

to pick up the pace.
Come on, Battling Boy!

So Richard Elton committed
in front on Hawksbill,

but here comes Battling
Boy moving equally

strongly, making his move to join him.

Come on, Battling Boy! Come on, Battling

Boy! How much you put on?
I put £30 to win.

Come on, Battling Boy!
Come on! Come on, Battling Boy!

Come on, Battling Boy!

Come on, Hawksbill!
Come on, Battling Boy!

Come on! Whip him out, my son!

Come on, Hawksbill! Come on, Hawksbill!

Come on, Hawksbill! Come on,

Hawksbill!

Get up there!

Babbling boy from Hawksbill.
Babbling boy's got his nose in some.

Babbling boy from Hawksbill.

Come on!

Push him up! Push him up!

Get him!

Babbling boy from Hawksbill.

Yeah, he's here!

We're with the Society by Mass,

employed by Sun and Winter. Winter.

We hope we'll meet in the second place.

Come on, let's get out of here.

get get out of here.

♪♪

Sante's. Interested in selling him?

Well, um...

I'll give you 500,000.

For pounds?

Guinness, if you like.

All right. Keep away from my owner.

I'll talk to him online.

He's not for sale. Get away.

Don't push me!

I'll say you've finished, Hartley.

You'll be the last horse you ever train.

30 pound bet, three to one,
that's 90 pounds profit.

That means dinner
at the Bonchamps restaurant,

-au-bon, steak au poivre.

No.

This money's going to charity,
to Fallowfields.

What, you mean you're going
to spend our winnings

saving some net from the blue pot?

-Yes.
-Well, what a waste.

Fish and chips.

I will not sell.

That's final.

Half a million quid,
that's 125 grand apiece.

He'll be worth even more next year.

And if he breaks his leg tomorrow,
he'll be dog food.

The money would be very useful.

My father left us, Bantling,

as a reward for our loyalty.

I demand the same loyalty from you.

Don't try and dress it up, Bruce.

We all know why he left the
damn horse to the four of you.

This has nothing to do with you.

The terms of the syndicate
require a unanimous decision.

Dr. Osgood, are you
loyal to Bruce on this?

Yes. I'm with Bruce on this.

Well, I say we sell. I need the money.

Yeah, me and all.
We'll get ourselves a lawyer.

You want to break up the syndicate?

You want the truth to come out.

Because he will.

Bantling boy will be sold
over my dead body!

They get him to bed with sand tape.

You can give him what he wants,
why the hell should I?

How dare you?

Bite his hand off, mother, before you're

past your sell-by date.

You and that half-wit brother of yours.

I love you, Grandpa.

Why not?

Because Bruce said he would tell.

He said he'd tell everybody that...

I can't believe this.

They knew that all of them knew.

Well, damn the lot of them and die!

Stop.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

I-

IT'S ME, IRIS!

No, it has to stop. No,
no, don't come round.

Please John John

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Boy

Look at that.

♪♪

♪♪

Mariana!

I'm here.

Stay back, Ray. He... He's dead.

What happened?

I don't know. I... I found him.

Jake's disappeared.

We need the police.
Don't touch anything.

Mariana, come away.

I doubt it was a kick.

Blunt, heavy weapon, I suspect.

The horse could have stood
in the pool of blood.

Or the hoof's been smeared
with blood to make the death

appear accidental.

Possibly.

Thanks for your help.

Uh, Mr. Braxton, when did you
last see Bruce Hartley alive?

About 8 o'clock last night.

Drunk as a handcart,
shouting his head off.

Bruce was a pain
in the ear with everybody.

Including you.

I left here about 8.

By 9, he was at Bantling Hall
having a blazing

argument with a syndicate.
That's the way he was.

What syndicate?

Bruce Hartley owned Bantling
with Dr. Osgood, Trevor Machen,

Trevor Machen, and Joanna, my wife.

Look, I had nothing to
do with any of that.

I've got a horse to shoe.

Yeah, of course you have, Mr. Braxton.

Jake Foley, stable lad.

Where can we find him?

Don't know.

Seems he went last night.

And we'll need this hammer, please.

Forensics, yes, George?

Thank you.

Why?

Just routine, Mr. Braxton.

Don't play little Miss Innocent with me.

You brought nothing into this marriage.

How dare you?

Was it Osgood?
Or the two of you together?

Leave Angela now!

Um, DCI Barnaby, this is DS Scott.

Sorry,

my-in-law.

Mrs. Hartley, do you feel able to answer

a few questions for us, please?

If I can be of any help.

Jake Foley, I understand he's missing.

Yes.

Jake was the real horseman here.

He should have been
on Bantling yesterday,

but Bruce took the ride from him.

How did Jake take that?

He put up with it.

He put up with it?

We all put up with Bruce.

His drinking, his violent temper.

Was your husband violent
last night, Mrs. Hartley?

Towards you?

We did argue.

I, um, I fell.

Sprained my wrist.

What did you argue about?

It was personal.

OK.

Just one more question, please.

Were you alone here last night
with your husband?

Yes.

You know, a very angry woman
swinging a heavy weapon.

Might just do that kind
of damage to herself.

You mean the sprained wrist?

Very neatly bandaged, isn't it?

Scott, the people in this syndicate
that own Bantling Boy.

I met one of them yesterday, sir.

Trevor Machen.

-Lives in a wheelchair.
-He's got breath like a badger.

You can start with Trevor Machen, then.

-Where?
-Where exactly did you meet him?

The Hammer and Pennant.

The Hammer and Pennant, Scott?

I thought you were supposed
to be investigating

car thefts.

Well, I noticed that
most of the car theft

took place in pub car parks,
so I did a sort of tour.

Is it a forensic pub crawl, sir?

Public-to-house inquiries, sir?

I'm off to Bantling Hall.

Put out a call for this Jake Foley.

Yes, sir.

Yes.

Yes.
A hit!

Come on, bullseye next.

Go for gold, yes?

Shoot it again!

I can do it myself.

I'm going to help.

No, you can't.

Excuse me, Detective Chief
Inspector Barnaby, Causton CID.

Come inside, will you?

No, get her!

Stupid. You made me miss. Go and fetch.

Cecil Hartley, 3rd Baron Bantling,
famous Catholic,

involved in the gunpowder plot.

George, 4th Baron Bantling, betrayed

the king at Marston Moor.

Thomas Bantling fought in the
American War of Independence

for the Americans.

There's more bloodshed and treachery

in the Bantling family, Inspector,

than all Shakespeare's
plays put together.

Shut the door, will you?

You may as well know my
relationship with my son

had been in low water for some time.

Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.

Was there a particular reason?

When my husband died last year,
he left me nothing but debts.

I was lady of the manor.

I'm now maid of all work.

I cook clean,
do accounts for tradesmen to keep

body and soul together.

And I take it your
son was unsympathetic.

There was a profound shallowness
about my son,

a childlike selfishness which
he inherited from his father.

What about his wife, Mariana?

The girl left background.

My son made a bad marriage.

You lived here alone
since your husband's death?

I lived with my brother, Geoffrey,

full-time occupation himself.

Body of a man, mind of a child.

Men who remain children
seem to run in my family.

This horse, Bantling,
your husband left it

to a syndicate, didn't he?

Why did he do that?

Bruce and my husband wasted
a fortune on useless horses.

Bantling was just a home-bred yearling

when he willed it to the syndicate.

Now it's worth thousands,
just another of life's ironies.

I understand there was some sort
of argument at the meeting

of the syndicate last night.

They had an offer for the horse.

Bruce refused to sell.

His death will make the rest
of them considerably richer.

How?

If one member dies, their share

passes to the remaining members.

Oh, I see.

All of which is cold comfort to me.

I shall have to sell Bantling Hall

to settle my husband's debts.

It's been in the family 500 years.

Devastating loss.

More devastating
than the loss of your son?

Frankly, Inspector, yes.

Mr. Machen, I'd like
to know where you were last night

about 10 o'clock, please.

Oh, no, I won't, won't.

I'm stuck in this wheelchair.

I couldn't have killed him no
matter how much I wanted to.

This horse of yours, uh, Bantling boy,

how did you get a share in it?

I was 30 years a gardener
up at the hall.

It broke my back.

Colonel Hartley left it me as a reward.

But you're chasing shadows if you

think the horse is behind it.

Now, this is family matters.

In what way?

Have you met Hartley's wife, Mariana,

her with the swimming pool eyes?

Right.

Talk to Dr. Osgood.

Him and Hartley are like that.

But behind Hartley's back,
Osgood and Mariana

are like that and all.

They're having an affair?

A bit of one with the other, yeah.

And I saw Osgood driving
up to the stables last night

like a bat out of hell.

What time was this?

About 10 o'clock.

Thank you.

-That's very useful.
-See yourself out, can you?

Yeah.

♪♪

♪♪

Ginseng and dandelion sharpens the mind.

Thank you.

I understand, Dr. Osgood, that you

and Bruce Hartley were friends.

Grew up in a village.

Climbed the same trees,
chased the same girls.

So you were very good friends, were you?

So it was Bruce Hartley
left you the share

in Bantling, was it?

No, his father bequeathed it to me.

I became his doctor in his final years,

dead long before they buried him,
poor chap, with cancer.

When did you last see Bruce Hartley?

At Causton Races,
French kissing a bottle of champagne.

A bit chateaued, I'm afraid.

Would you, uh, you say
he's got a problem with drink?

Bruce was a functioning alcoholic,

Sergeant, like his father.

Causton Races, you say.

You're not being
entirely honest with us,

are you, Dr. Osgood?

We know that you saw him
up at the hall last night.

Ah, you've heard about that.

Oh, yes, indeed.

And we also have a witness
who saw you driving

towards the stables
around about 10 o'clock last night.

I'm assuming it was you
who bandaged Mariana's wrist.

She a patient of yours?

Yes, and Marianna called me.

Bruce had assaulted her again.

Just a house call, was it, Doctor?

OK.

Mariana and I are involved.

But Bruce knew nothing.

I love Mariana,
and I begged her to leave him.

And how did you feel,
knowing that your good friend

had assaulted the woman you loved?

Did you confront him,
teach him a lesson?

He cleared off, Inspector.

I assumed he'd gone to the pub.

How do you like him for you, sir?

Love ripens into vengeance,
crime of passion?

Yeah, possibly.

Oh, what about this syndicate,
this strange collection

of locals who owned Bentley & Boyer?

Well, Trevor Machen was
the colonel's gardener.

Osgood was his doctor.

-Yeah.
-Why leave

Braxton at the back of the horse, eh?

Perhaps.

All right, lunch, then we'll find out.

He's off his food, Ray.
Hasn't touched a note.

The vet's scoped him, done a blood test.

Something or somebody's got to him,
that's for sure.

Somebody?

Well, he's worth big money now,

and there's nothing
in the way of security here.

Maybe we should move him.

Where?

I don't know. Anywhere but here.

I'd like to be a
million miles away myself.

Yeah, me too.

But I'm only going as far as the fort,

so call me if you need me.

♪♪

Look out!

Look out!

You know, my uncle was a bookmaker.

Was he?

Yeah.

In the blood then, is it?

-Yeah.
-Used to carry the satchel

from Kempton Park, do the, uh,

tic-tac, 130 Burlington,
Bertie, all that stuff.

What a sheltered life I've lived.

I'm sure you've had your moments, sir.

Not at Kempton Park, I haven't.

♪♪

Mr. Braxton.

We're here to see your wife.

-Is she in?
-She's in the back garden.

Is this you, sir?

Yeah, we have medieval tournaments

that we're bundling all
every year for charity.

That your son?

Yeah, he loves all that malarkey.

Mad over it.

This way.

Thank you.

Put a nasty dent in your skull.

WMD, Scott.

Weapons of medieval destruction.

Mrs. Braxton,
I understand that you're one

of the owners of Bantling Boy.

Yes.

I'm a visiting nurse.

I looked after Lord Bantling
during his illness,

and he left me sharing the horse.

We're trying to establish
the whereabouts of people

around about 10 o'clock last night.

Well, I was here with Peter.

And were you all three
together all the time?

No.

Ray had gone for a walk.

Tell them Joanna.
Tell them what you're like.

Well, he just, um,
he wanted to get out for some air.

You know, he wanted to be on his own.

Can I take it your husband is not

entirely happy about your
involvement with Bantling?

You'll have to ask him
about that yourself.

Excuse me.

♪♪

Oh, yeah.

What's the game you're playing?

Secret of the Ring.

Want to go?

Yes, yes please.

Here, hold this.

Okay, now wait.

Steady.

-Hello?
-When I tell you...

Fire!

You got him.

Is killing people your
idea of fun, young man?

It's only a game.

Sir, we've got a treble
nine call from Lodge Stables.

It's Marianna Hartley.

I think we should get down there.

-Right.
-If all the killing

in the world was only a game,

nobody would ever be hurt, would they?

No.

That is true.

It's very true.

Out of the mouth, babes.

Somebody's prowling round.
I've seen them twice now.

Mantling boy is ailing.

The more it is being got at.

I don't like saying this, but Jake Foley

was in trouble a few years ago, a doping

scandal, race fixing.

Was he prosecuted?

No, nothing was proved, but Mudsticks,

he had trouble getting rides.

That's why he came to us.

I presume if Bantling is a sick horse,

that could reduce his value.

Oh, yes.

The vet's been up.

It'll be all around the county by now.

So Sam Tate, who wants to buy the horse,

he could save himself a lot of money.

Yes.

You don't think Sam Tate
behind this, do you?

We've spoken with Dr. Osgood,
Mrs. Hartley,

and you haven't been entirely frank
with us, have you,

about your relationship with him?

No.

Sorry.

Last night after Bruce hit me,
he stormed off.

I called Joanna,
he came up here, but he left.

He has nothing to do with Bruce's death.

And what about you?
Were you angry with your husband,

angry that he'd attacked you?

Did you go looking for him?

Find him in here, and then, uh?

No.

I married a vulgar bully of a man,

and yes, I've wished
him dead often enough.

But I didn't kill him.

Well, right now,
the most important thing

is to increase your security, isn't it?

Whoever killed your husband may have

been trying to steal Bantling
when he disturbed them.

I said to Ray maybe
we should move him somewhere safer.

Yeah, yeah, that'd be a good idea.

And in the meantime,
Sergeant Scott can stay with him.

He's very good with horses.

He's had many happy days with them.

Yes, sir.

I'm not sure I fancy
spending the night with one.

Joe!

Ellie.

How'd it go?

I was wrong for the part, again.

It'll come.

Will it?

I feel so useless just sitting around

waiting for my agent to ring.

I'm not making any money.

Just frittering away
at my life, you know?

I'm, uh, I'm sorry.

Hey, do you remember the Fallowfields?

Yeah, why?

I've got to drop this off up there.

Will you come along with me?

Take you out of yourself.

It's all right, Dad.
You don't have to.

Just a misery right now.

Come on.

You know what they say.
Misery needs company.

Come on.

90 pounds?

Yes, 90 pounds.

Mrs. Barnaby won that on Bantling,

and she insisted that you have it.

Splendid.

Need every bit of help we can get.

I wonder, Major,
if you could help us out here.

We think that Bantling has been got at,

and or someone is trying to steal him.

He needs stabling somewhere, you know,

out of the way, somewhere safe.

This is the back of the island.

Get nobody out here
except the odd bird watcher

and the occasional rambler
bimbling about.

Be safe enough here.

So you think you could manage Bantling?

Well, George, my head man,
has just retired.

92.

Lovable old biscuit.

Complete horse nut, like myself.

Point being, it's left us
a bit thin in the ranks.

Well, perhaps, um,
Cully could help you out, uh,

while you've got some time
on your hands, couldn't you?

I wondered why you dragged me up here.

Doesn't pay much, I'm afraid.

Just three square meals and BFH.

Bus fare's home.

Is that agreeable?

Sounds great.

Can I get a better offer?

♪♪

Who are you?

Who are you?

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Police.

Stay where you are.

♪♪

♪♪

Why did you go on the run, Mr. Foley?

The only running I did was to catch the

last bus to Causton.

Bruce fired me.

Told me to clear out.

Why?

From what I hear,
the success of Bantling

was very much down to you.

Why?

Bruce was a wannabe jockey,
but a few sizes too large.

That's why he jocked me off.

Jealousy.

And that made you bitter.

Of course it did.

Why did you go back
to the stables last night, Jake?

I heard they called a vet
out to Mantling Boy.

Yeah, because someone got to him.

-Was it you?
-I've raised that horse

since a yearling.

He's not sick.

He's pining.

For you.

There's a bond between a horse
and his minder that goes deep.

Your four-legged friend, is he?

Of course, you've doped
a few of your friends

in the past, haven't you?

Fixed the odd race?

That was all malicious.

I was never charged with anything.

I have to ask you this, Mr. Foley.

Did you kill Bruce Hartley?

No!

You want to know who I think did it?

Sam Tate.

Tate's bread.

Why him?

Him and Bruce had a
right set too after the race.

If anyone's going to be dancing
on Hartley's grave,

it'll be Sam Tate.

With Bruce gone,
that just leaves the Doctor.

So don't disappoint me.

It's the police.
I don't want to be seen here.

I don't want them digging
into our business.

No, just keep out of sight

If I'm on your list,
you can cross me off right now.

Mr. Tate, you had a bit
of a run in with Bruce Hartley

at the race course the other day.

He made a backside of himself,
if that's what you mean.

I offer to buy Bantling Boy
on what I want, I usually get.

Mr. Tate, have you or any
of your acquaintances

been anywhere near Bantling Boy
since the race?

No, nowhere near.

Do you live here alone, Mr. Tate?

Yes, divorced two years ago, been

happily unmarried ever since.

Ever heard of Tate's oven ready bread?

Oh, indeed I have.

The crust you can trust.

That's the one.

It's disgusting,
but people buy it because it saves time.

And time is money.

I've got a board meeting
in an hour, Inspector.

Bye.

Well, thank you, Mr. Tate.

Thank you very much
for your valuable time.

Let's go up.

Can you run a car check on that?

Yes, sir.

Certainly.

Sergeant Scott here.

Could you run a vehicle check
on a registration for me, please?

Kilo 153 Echo Yankee Mike.

No, I'll wait for it.

Thank you.

What do you make of Sam Tate, sir?

They reckon he started
as a delivery boy on the bread van.

Yeah.

I don't suppose he got rich keeping

the right side of the law.

Yeah.

Thank you. Cheers.

Thanks very much.

Braxton, sir.

What's she doing up here?

I suspect she's come
to see a man about a horse.

Bruce Hartley as Richard the Lionheart.

He were the biggest chicken I ever met.

Are we going to meet here?

Peter's indoors.

I don't want him here in our business.

Sam Tate wants an answer
by tomorrow night.

We sell.

Me and Joanna's agreed.

What's your vote?

I think Marianna, as Bruce's wife,

should have a say in this.

But that's not
the syndicate rules, Doctor.

We own Bruce's share.

Morally, Marianna has a right.

Morally?

You still knocking a slice off her?

-Trevor.
-You'll be laughing all

the way to Bruce's funeral,

that's for sure.

That settles it.

The horse is not for sale.

Goodbye.

Don't care, do we?

Bloody tough!

We've got another problem.

Bantling is ailing.

He's been shipped up to Fallowfields.

Who's going to pay for that? I'm skin.

It's a charity, Trevor.

If word gets out, his price will drop.

Damn Osgood.

We've got to sell that horse

before it drops dead in its store.

That's it, there you come, come on, come

on, come on, slowly,
come on, come on, keep

going, keep going, that's it,
oh, well, that's it.

This takes me back
to the Pony Club trials.

Remember the Causton show?

Five foot wall?

Yeah, you were in all the worry guts.

-Yeah.
-And you were lucky to get over just

a broken arm there,

-weren't you?
-Grab that.

Green stick, factual.

At least you got a lot
of exercise out of it, didn't you?

And these days,
kids seem stuck in front of computers

all the time.

OK.

Playing games,
the entire purpose of which

is to kill people.

The Braxton boy is obsessed with them.

He's nine years old, Cully.

Nine years old.

We never let you play
games like that, did we?

I hated computers.

Films were my thing.

Having said that, when I was nine,

my favorite film was Terminator.

What?

Fascination with gruesome deaths
does run in the family.

Oh, I think so.

Thanks, Dad.

I'm going to go, though, because I've got

to pick up Manklin boy at three.

Yeah, thank you, Cully.

Thank you.

Hey.

Is the phone ringing?

No.

I think my agent died.

I need to see him.

Keep away from that horse.

He's pining.
That's what's the matter with him.

-I'll call the police.
-I mean it.

-Calm down, Jake.
-Get out of my way.

Get off, Jake.

You heard her.

If anything happens to
battling boy, I'll you.

Why have the police let him go?

Because they
haven't got anything on him.

I think he did it, Ray.

He hated Bruce.

We all hated Bruce,
the way he treated the horses.

The way he treated
you made my blood boil.

That's plenty of blood.

Think of it as a marriage
of convenience.

Angela Hartley,
née Bantling of Bantling Hall,

and Sam Tate, roughly Roe Barnsley,
made in heaven.

Sam, please.

This place will be sold off, developed,

maybe even bulldozed.

Now, is that what you want
for you and Geoffrey?

Not now, Geoffrey, please.

We have business to discuss.

Great tradition.

Sowing the flag.

Well, he settled in,
but still not feeding.

Jake Foley reckons he's pining for him.

Is it possible?

Oh, yes.

Could be.

The major mentioned he'd
lost his head man.

Do you think he'd take on Jake Foley?

Well, he's very experienced,
but isn't there a risk?

Don't you suspect him?

No. No, I don't.

I suspect he's genuinely fond
of this horse.

Pining for Jake, are you, Bobby?

You know who killed him, don't you?

-Eh?
-Yeah.

No! No! Leave me alone!

It's all right. It's not gonna hurt.

I don't want him touching me.

Go away! Go away!

Any vomiting?

No, but he's been having nightmares.

And cold sweats.

Joanna's out on call, is she?

Yes.

You did right to call me.

It's always better
to be safe than sorry.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Oh, thanks.

I know we're free,
but I wanted to show that to you.

George.

A blow to the skull,
exactly as with Bruce Hartley.

But this was found tied
around the victim's mouth like a gag.

Was that applied
before or after the blow to the head?

Can't be sure.

What's certain is
the head blow killed him.

The skull's very crushed.

Anything back from forensics
on Braxton's hammer?

I'll chase it up.

Thanks, George.

Bruce Hartley, John Osgood,
they both oppose the sale

of Bantling, yeah?

-Yeah.
-Which leaves Trevor Machen and Braxton

free to sell the horse, yeah?

And Sam Tate,
who always gets what he wants,

now has a clear way to buy it.

I'd say that makes the three
of them joint favorites.

Would you?

Remind me, what horse did you
back for the Causton Cup?

Dr. Osgood is dead.

Well, death's the cost of living
for all of us, isn't it?

Well, there'll be no more problems.

Because me and Joanna are us, Al.

Not sure I can trust you, Trevor.

You've been keeping things
from me, haven't you?

Bantling a sick horse.

It's not you's been
getting at him, is it?

He's been shipped up to Fallowfields.

Most horses come
out of there feet first.

Are you buying or not?

250,000.

That's half of what you said.

You're no worse off.

Your stakes doubled.

Now, Osgood and Hartley
are out of the mixture.

This isn't sweetie money
we're talking about.

Two of the owners
of this horse have come

to a sticky end, Trevor.

We don't want you suffering
the same fate.

Are you threatening me?

Just making a once and only offer.

Phone me, Trevor.

It seems, Scott,
that our Dr. Osgood paid

a visit to the Braxton's yesterday.

What time?

Why do doctors always write in Sanskrit?

Can you make head or tail of that?

Sure.

No.

No, but it means they might have been

the last ones to see him alive.

Let's give the Craxtons a house
call of our own, shall we?

It was Ray who called the doctor.

Peter was having nightmares.

I was out visiting a patient.

The name of this patient?

Dickinson.

But she's got Alzheimer's.

She can't remember which way is up,

never mind who is where when.

And the night Bruce Hartley died,

you say you were at home
here on your own,

your husband called for a walk?

Yes, I was here with Peter.

Are you implying that I had something

to do with these murders?

Well, the two people who refused to sell

Bantling are now dead.

And you are much the
richer for it, aren't you?

It's not my doing.

None of it.

Oh, who have we here?

I'm Sir Peter Bantling.

Are you?

Rehearsals for the tournament.

Were you up at the hall?

I hear, Peter,
you've been having nightmares.

It could be the secret of the ring.

Those computer games
certainly give me nightmares.

With the secret of the ring,
I'm never scared.

Never, ever.

Look, I'm late, Inspector.

Ray's up there waiting.

Peter, get in the car.

Bye.

Bye, Sir Peter.

He's a fine little lad, isn't he?

Has he always been troubled
with nightmares?

No more than most.

It's a troubled world, isn't it?

Indeed it is.

Trevor, what is this proposition?

Sam Tate has cut his offer to 250.

So?

Persuade him to up his bid, and I'll

give you 20% of every penny more
you can get out of him.

What makes you think I have
any influence?

Well, you've got him
around your little finger.

He's a ladies' man.

What about Joanna?

Well, she ain't got your class, has she?

Now, tell Tate I will not sell,
not for 250 grand, never.

You may regret saying that.

Well, I'll take my chance.

Thanks for the veg.

Put them through to the
kitchen for me, would you?

You may be fiddling yourself
a disabled pension, Trevor,

but you won't get me waiting
on your hand and foot.

♪♪

Come on people, hurry up!

♪♪

And we have the yeoman,
the barman, and the camp

followers into the jousting field.

Mr. Braxton,
a couple of questions, please.

What, in the middle of all this?

I'm in the middle of a murder
inquiry, Mr. Braxton.

And I believe you were the last person

to see Dr. John Osgood alive.

When he left mine,
that was the last I saw of him.

Excuse me, I'm in
the middle of a battle.

Mr. Chunk, I'm sorry.

You said were an idiot! idiot!

-You said you were idiot!
-Oh, don't give me that! that!

You said that!

Have you bought yourself
a horse yet, Mr. Tate?

No, but I'm working on it.

♪♪

Stuffies offer right up your jacksie.

I wish you'd leave Sam to me, Trevor.

Put my trust in pillow talk.

No.

Peter, would you take
Mr. Machen his drink, please?

No.

You, young man, will do as I say.

Little monkey!

Make ready.

Approach.

What's she doing, sir?

She's giving her favor
to her chosen knight, sir.

Making him the favorite, is that it?

That's where the phrase comes from, sir.

Let battle commence.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Peek-a!

Give mercy!

Ray and Braxton are a double act, sir.

They'll share the money
from selling the horse.

That's the motive.

Trevor Machen also stands to gain
from the sale of the horse.

If money is the motive
behind all of this.

Well, if it's not money,
sir, what is it?

The boy, Peter.

He's clearly upset, having nightmares.

You should have seen him
this afternoon running at Trevor

Machen with his little sword.

I'm not with you on this, sir.

Scott, there is something
between his mother

and Trevor Machen.

Makes the boy very angry.

You think Machen's got
some hold over her?

Yep.

-Could be.
-He was certainly keen to finger Dr.

Osgood when I spoke to him.

Tom, I thought you'd want
to see this straight away.

Just back from forensics.

No prints, I'm afraid.

But it's a pretty close fit
with the head

wounds on Hartley and Dr. Osgood.

Definitely the type
of weapon you're looking for.

Thank you, George.

Braxton spent a lifetime swinging

hammers like that, sir?

With deadly accuracy.

Yes, but everybody knows that, Scott.

The killer could be using that fact.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

The same hammer blow,
exactly the same weapon profile, Tom.

Skull crushed and this again.

Why would you do this?

It's a statement.

They're being killed,
then they're gagged.

They're being ritualistically silenced.

Would make sense of it.

But silenced about what?

About you.

Inspector Barnaby's car, isn't it?

I'd better go.

Take care.

Yeah, I was on my own.

Working here till 10 on them shields.

When did you last see
Trevor Machen, right?

What's going on?

Trevor Machen was murdered last night.

Oh, my god.

You think I killed him?

And Dr. Osgood, and Bruce Hartley.

Am I right?

Can we continue
this conversation at the station,

Mr. Braxton?

Ray,

he wouldn't harm a fly,
let alone kill anybody.

Just his hobby, is it?

Malleting people.

Excuse me.

Not like none of them, no.

Nevertheless,
your wife now owns outright a horse

worth half a million pounds.

Everybody in Midsomer made
money out of that horse.

Even the vicar trowels
at a fair few quid.

Look, it caused me and Joanna
nothing but arguments.

I killed nobody.

I don't know why you're picking on me.

Because you don't have
an alibi for the times

-of the three murders, sir.
-What

about Sam Tate and that two-faced cow,
Angela Hartley?

You haven't pulled them in, have you?

-No.
-Oh, come on.

We question everyone alike,
no matter who they are.

You're not going to get the right answer

questioning the wrong man.

I didn't do it.

The police think that Ray
killed all three of them.

Well, they're wrong, aren't they?

What if Ray starts talking
about the syndicate?

He knows everything, Angela.

All of it.

Me, you.

How does he know?

Did you tell him?

I had to.

Bruce threatened to tell everybody.

I wanted Ray to hear it from me.

Stay calm, Joanna.

We don't need to panic.

I can look after Peter
as long as you like.

We're in this together.

Always have been.

We searched Braxton's cottage
till we ran out of places

to look, sir. Nothing.

Any luck you're in?

-No.
-He's denying any involvement.

I've got nothing.

-You've got nothing.
-We'll have to release him.

Here, take a look at that.

That's the Bantling family crest, huh?

Yeah, but, sir,
surely it's got to be him.

Can't we lean on him a bit,
keep his feet to the fire?

Sergeant, this is Midsomer, not the Met.

Did they not teach you about the
Holy Trinity up in town?

Three things required before you move

from suspicion to conviction.

Motive, opportunity, and evidence.

And the greatest of these three, my son,

is evidence, which in Braxton case,
we do not have.

Yeah, but, sir, he will be released.

Bring that along with you.

It's on, quick sticks!

We'll be late!

How the hell is that?

What do you see?

Well, it's, uh,
it's a coat of arms, isn't it?

Yeah.

Hammer and the pennant.

Now, we have three people
killed with a hammer,

and two of them were gagged, each

with a piece of triangular cloth
in the shape of the pennant.

It could be a connection,
sir, but why not gag

all three of the victims?

Why not, indeed?

Something different
about Bruce Hartley death?

Oh, Inspector.

We were just going to Fallowfield
to see Bad King Boy.

Lady Hartley, could you tell me,
where were you

last night?

You and Geoffrey?

I was working in my
office on some accounts.

The boys were playing their
computer games.

Is that all, Inspector?

Geoffrey, that shield up there.

What does that mean to you?

The crest of the Bantling.

Into the car, boys.

Goodbye.

Peter.

If you think Geoffrey had anything

to do with these dreadful murders,

you're very much off track.

He's completely harmless.

I'm sure he is.

But I have to ask these questions,
Lady Hartley.

Sometimes the
most unlikely people do the most

extraordinary things, don't they?

I'll drop you off at the station,
Scott, if I may.

I'll head up to Fallowfields with them.

Put it away now, Peter.

The Secret of the Room.

The secret of the ring.

I want to get out Ray.
Yes, I do. I meant you

and me and our Peter

We just pack everything and go

I want us to start again.

We could be back to how we were.

Just us three.

No Joanna.

There's no going back.

You destroyed all that.

You and Angela and the
whole damn lot of them.

-Ray, please.
-To hell with you!

It's all cleared with the custody
sergeant, Mr. Braxton.

You're free to go.

Thanks for nothing.

SIREN WAILS

Doesn't Bantling look a picture?

Yes, he does.

Can I give him this?

Can he?

I think he'd love it.

Actually, can I still kill him?

Of course you can, Geoffrey.

He doesn't like you, Geoffrey.

He only likes me.

Can I ride him?

Is that all right, Major?

You can sit on him, yes.

OK, Peter, come.

One, two, three, hop.

There.

So Peter on his charger.

He's the best.

Out of Midsomer Girl by Bantling,

from Knight's Maiden by King's Charter.

He was out of Royal Dynasty.

All right, Peter.
We've heard enough.

It's breeding, you see.

It's in the blood.

Everything's in the breeding.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Right?

♪♪

Are you in there, Ray?

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

It's Braxton, head caved in.

Gagged?

Yeah, same as the others.

Braxton found her.

My money says he put her there as well.

I thought you were holding him.

We were.

I've just had the super on one.

I know why he was released.

Good question.

Well, it's the Holy Trinity, apparently.

Motive, opportunity, and evidence,
the greatest of which

is evidence, which in Braxton case,

we did not have,
but we certainly do now.

I preferred my doubts
to your certainties.

Lady Hartley,
can you look after Peter again?

His father will be with us.

Yes, of course.

You'll never get your hands on him,
hear me? Never!

Thank you.

You'll never get your
hands on him, he said.

Meaning the horse?

No, or his son.

Gregson clearly resents
Angela Hartley's closeness to Joanna

and her owning a share in Bentley & Boy.

Scott, there's something staring us
in the face here,

and we are missing it.

About Joanna, the syndicate?

Syndicate, yeah.

As each member of the syndicate died,

their share was passed
on to the remaining

members of the syndicate, yeah?

Until Braxton owned the lot.

But now she's dead, who owns the horse?

It's a matter of your husband's will.

Requests of Bantling Boy.

Oh, I've left my notebook. Excuse me.

I want to go with the man now.

You're my champion, said Geoffrey.

You have helped me reach this goal.

Now that Braxton dead,
who owns Bantling?

The terms of my husband's
will are that the horse

now belongs to Peter.

To Peter?

Oh, come on, Barnaby.

You're a man of the world.

Peter's mother, Joanna,
nursed my husband.

Were they lovers?

Nine years ago, my husband raped Joanna.

Get off!

I'll tell the vet!

Peter!

Joanna was Catholic,
so were the Hartley.

Just as a divorce was
out of the question for me,

so was abortion for her.

I paid her money.

Every week.

She kept quiet and she kept the child.

But Osgood was his doctor,
Machen was his gardener,

and I take it they and your son,
Bruce, they all knew

what had happened to Joanna.

They knew.

And that's why your husband
left all the Bantling Boy

shares to the four of them, as a reward

for their silence.

Yes.

♪♪

♪♪

Peter is very fond of Bantling.

I doubt he'd want him sold to Mr. Tate.

We'll see.

It will be Peter's decision.

Oh, I hope it is.

Your sergeant seems
to have gone missing.

Perhaps we'd better find him.

So, good to go, huh?

Are you looking for something, Sergeant?

Uh, toilet.

This way.

It's a proprietary game,
originally taken off the internet,

but it's been modified.

They've added some variables,
different loops.

And in English that is?

Well, someone's taken the original game

and expanded on it.

The object now seems to be to redeem
the honour of the battling.

So, I followed the pathway plan
through to the final level,

where I found this secret chamber,
and then this.

The victims' names are all there, sir.

Bruce Hartley, Dr. Osgood,
Trevor Machen, and Braxton.

Well, that's grotesque.

Yeah.

All of the deaths
are described, each one

using medieval language,
the hammer of vengeance

and the pennant of pride.

The quest seems to be to take revenge

on the ring,
the betrayers of the secret.

Could the ring be
the syndicate, the ring

of owners of Bantling Boy?

The hero of the game
is Sir Peter, riding

a mighty steed.

It all ties in with Braxton's obsession

with battle recreations,
medieval weapons.

Why put that on Peter's computer?

I think he's used the game
to rehearse the killings

before he carries them out.

Could Geoffrey have created this?

No, sir, it's beyond him.

He's got an IQ of about two.

I think that when Joanna told
Ray Peter wasn't his son,

it tipped him over the edge into this.

I don't know what games
you're talking about.

The Secret of the Ring.

The game you downloaded
onto Peter's laptop.

His laptop? I hate them things.

I work on my hands, Inspector.
I'm computer illiterate.

When did you first discover
that Peter wasn't

your real son, Mr. Braxton?

Joanna told me
the night Bruce Hartley was killed

that Peter wasn't mine.

They own you, the whole syndicate.

They've been laughing
behind my back for years.

Mr. Braxton,
four people are to be buried.

The very ones that
you say were laughing at you

behind your back.

I didn't kill them!

My wife is dead.

And to me, Peter is still my son.

So either charge me,
or let me go home and look after him.

The game on your computer, Peter.

The Secret of the Ring.

What's it about?

The quest of the Bantling.

Quest?

To take back the Secret of the Ring.

Did your father invent the game, Peter?

Did you play it with Ray?

He's not my father.

I don't want to see him ever again.

I had to tell him, Inspector.

It's his birthright to know
who he is, what he is.

He's my husband's son.

He's heir to the lordship
and manor of Bantling.

Lady Hartley, if I may, I'd like

to examine your computer, please.

Feel free.

I've nothing to hide.

Thank you.

That looked champion.

Yeah.

It's all in good order, fit and keen.

Oh, he's been ended up for another race

in Causton next week.

Is that wise, I'm thinking,
after a setback?

Yeah, you're thinking if Bantling wins,

he'll be a more expensive buy.

Oh, now that had never occurred to me.

Sure.

He'll take his chance next week.

You can bank on it.

We'll see.

He might have a new owner by then.

Mr. Braxton.

Mr. Braxton, you are free to go.

But I would seriously advise you

not to try and approach Peter, okay?

I want my son.

No, please.

Be warned.

For his sake and for yours,

stay away from Peter.

Did you get anything
from Lady Hartley's computer?

Plenty that would interest
the inland revenue, sir,

but nothing for us so far.

Well, I've had to let Braxton go.

I mean, we've got
nothing on him, have we?

We've got no bloodstains,
no weapon, no fingerprints.

Got nothing.

It's a bit of a risk, isn't it, sir?

Yes.

Yes, it is.

Look, Scott, you can leave that.

You follow Braxton.

Don't let him out of your sight and sit

tight on that cottage.

Yes, sir.

We had a deal.

You can't back out now
after everything I've done.

Anything you've done,
Sam, you did for yourself.

Always have, always will.

And you're Lady Bountiful.

Come off it, Angela.

You're as ruthless as I am,
the two of a kind.

I hardly think so.

You think you can ditch me now?

Now you can control
Bantling through Peter?

No way.

Please, don't raise your
voice in my kitchen.

I will not change my mind.

Oh, yes, you will, Angela.

Only fools and the
departed never change their minds.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

What's another word for con man?

Nine letters ending in R.

Ray Craxton's son, Peter,
he really is extraordinary.

Fraudster.

Pardon?

Con man, nine letters ending in R.

He can remember bantling
boys' pedigree going back

for four or five generations.

The sires, the mares,
everything, and all by heart.

Do you know that hadn't occurred to me?

I never thought of that
even as a possibility.

What?

Something Scott said.

It's a quest to take
revenge on the Ring,

the betrayers of the secret.

To redeem the honor of the Bantling.

I'll just have to check and see.

Bans, Banshee, Bantam, Bansling.

Oh, of course.

Sleep well, Peter.

Mwah.

Sleep tight.

Night, Geoffrey.

Say goodnight, Geoffrey.

Goodnight.

It's the three of us together now, boys.

Nothing more to worry about, Geoffrey.

Nothing, not now.

This will be our family home forever.

♪♪

♪♪

Barnaby?

Sir, it's Scott.

Yeah, I've lost Braxton.

Yeah, he's on the loose, I'm afraid.

OK, Scott, get yourself over to
Bantling Hall as fast as you can.

Ray!

I told you to stay away from me.

I want my son!

Peter!

♪♪

No! No!

No, don't do it!

No! No, Geoffrey!

No, leave him!

No!

No!
No!

-No!
-No!

No!

-No!
-No!

I don't want you!

I hate you.

I hate you.

-I hate you.
-You're a traitor!

Betrayer!

Leave me alone!

It was you, Geoffrey, wasn't it?

You did all this killing.

Bruce and Trevor, Joanna and Joanna,
it was you, Geoffrey,

-wasn't it?
-Is that true, Geoffrey?

Was it you?

Yep, and not by himself, very hardly.

Not by himself.

Surely you're not suggesting that I...

No, no, no.
He did it at Peter's bidding.

Isn't that right, Peter?

Peter.

Geoffrey.

Geoffrey, on the night Bruce died,

can you remember where
you were about 10 o'clock?

Bruce upset Angela.

And that upset you too, didn't it?

Yes.

He was mean to her.

And he wouldn't sell the horse.

He wouldn't help Angela keep Bantling.

You and that half-wit brother of yours!

This is home.

I want to stay here.

Oh, Geoffrey.

So you went out looking
for him, Geoffrey?

Yes. I crept up on him.

He didn't see me.

And I found a hammer, so I...

What did you do with the hammer?

I hid it in the priest's hiding hole.

Oh.

You couldn't find it.

The idea for that game, Geoffrey,
that was Peter's, wasn't it?

Yes.

He has a lot of ideas, doesn't he?

Peter.

And you are his best friend, Geoffrey.

You don't have any secrets
from one another.

that you told him, didn't you?

You told him what you'd done to Bruce.

He said he'd tell on me if I didn't.

And they would take me
away and put me in prison.

Why, Geoffrey?

Why did Peter want you
to do to the others

what you'd done to Bruce?

Because!

Because...

they betrayed the secret.

What secret?

That Peter was a Bentley?

Yeah, he overheard his mum
and dad fighting about it.

He's always going to think that...

He is yours!

He is the bastard son of the heart!

That is what he is!

They'd been arguing about you,
hadn't they, Peter?

Yes.

Your mother told your father
that you weren't really his son,

that you were a bantling.

Yes, I am a bantling.

The word bantling,
that's an ancient medieval term

for bastard.

Isn't that right?

And you knew that word,
didn't you, from your

medieval myths,
from your codes of chivalry.

You knew what it meant to be a Bantling.

To wear the badge of shame,
to forfeit all honour,

be mocked, scorned, outcast forever.

And the Ring were
the owners of Bantling Boy

who knew the secret.

They were the possessors,
sworn to keep it safe.

Once betrayed,
the secret must be taken back.

But how, Peter, how?

♪♪

By the Knight Champion of the Bantling,

with the Hammer
of Vengeance and the Pennant

of Pride in his hand,

he could steal back
the secret of the ring.

And Geoffrey was your
Knight Champion, was he?

♪♪

I want to be Lord of the Manor now.

No. You're Night Champion, Sir Geoffrey.

Brave and fearless.

So Geoffrey stole
back the secret by silencing them

one by one.

That was his quest in that computer
game that you created.

Yes.

And you almost won that game,
didn't you, eh, Peter?

Colonel Hartley's bantling boy
and Colonel Hartley's title

will be all yours.

It's breeding.

Class will tell.

Horses and people alike.

It wasn't a game, Peter!

Pizza.

Don't think he can hear us, Mr. Gregson.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

What I don't understand,
sir, is why Geoffrey

turned on Peter in the end, after doing

his bidding all that time.

Peter's last command to Geoffrey

was to kill Angela,
because she knew about

his bantling secret as well.

But Geoffrey loved Angela.

She was his sister, his carer.

He couldn't do it.

So he turned on Peter instead.

Makes you feel a bit queasy, sir.

-You are?
-Well, a little kid like that using his

to turn murder into a game.

Ah, Scott, when killing
becomes entertainment,

we all lose touch with reality.

I thought we'd turn in here.

Sir?

Tell the landlord we're
on to the thefts in his car park.

Brighton surrenders the lead
with two furlongs to go.

Plenty of chances.

Ruby Mist has taken over.

Bantling Boy on his shoulder.

Jake Foley sitting
with a double handful.

And Foley asks for an effort now.

But Bantling storms into the lead
by a length too late.

And Bantling, which is
coming away from the canter.

Have you had a bet on, sir?

I have, Scott.

I've made myself a nice little killing.

♪♪

♪♪