Original subtitles

Previously...

I never asked yer name.

- Ellen MacKenzie. - I'm Brian.

Jacob swore to her

that she doesna have to take a husband,

and 'tis no secret that she doesna wish to.

Lady Ellen's to be married to Malcolm Grant.

Did you promise coin to the cause?

What the devil were you thinking?

This is Grant money you're gambling with!

You bring an offer of a betrothal to the Grants,

and perhaps we could help each other.

I came to the Highlands with my husband on holiday.

- Julia! - You've been sold to us.

And here you'll stay.

The Laird is losing his patience

with this search nonsense, as am I.

- Do you want me to kill him? - Not yet.

But watch him more closely.

I'll find a way out of my betrothal.

- I swear it. - We will.

Did you hear that, Mistress Porter?

Julia is carrying my child.

This is mine and Henry's baby.

When the fate of our nation is in peril,

he'll have his part to play.

Then it is as the prophecy foretold.

You're carrying a future king.

Am I not the laird of our clan?

No, I'm the war chieftain, not a bairn.

This is Fraser Tartan. Were ye handfast?

You are the son of Simon Fraser,

sworn enemy of Red Jacob. They'll kill you.

I named him William.

After my grandfather.

You have my heart and my soul.

Ellen is gone.

Find my brother. His skills are crucial.

Ye've jilted me?

Did you not see which direction

that wretched admirer took them?

The Jacobite rebellion?

To ignore the call is to face certain death.

- I will stand with you. - Henry, you must go.

My heart is with you, William, and Claire.

Where am I?

The Inverness Lunatic Asylum.

I'm Dr. Perryman.

Can you confirm your name?

Henry Grant. Henry Grant.

Where's my wife?

Where's my son?

No one else was with you when you were found.

I... oh.

No, no. No, I need to go.

No, I... I have to help them.

The straightjacket's just a precaution.

The police sergeant that brought you here

was worried you might pose a danger

to yourself or to others, but we'll see about that.

Do you remember how you got here, Mr. Grant?

No.

I can't stay here.

I can't stay here.

You suffered a serious blow to the head

- and a wound to the shoulder. - Huh?

You were stitched up in the infirmary,

but we'll need to keep a close eye on you.

You're likely concussed.

Why am I here?

You were found out on the moors, by all accounts,

looking like you just fought at the Battle of Bannockburn

and with the attitude of a Highland warrior as well.

You tried to force your way out of the infirmary.

You said some worrisome things.

They had to sedate you.

That light, it's electric.

Yes.

I'm not supposed to be here. I'm not supposed to be here.

- So you keep saying. - What?

- Do you know what day it is? - Um...

Or what year it is perhaps?

It's, uh...

1715.

19-19-1915.

Can you tell me the name of the current prime minister?

Stanley Baldwin. Bonar Law.

I-I don't know. I...

It's 1924...

and Ramsay MacDonald's the prime minister.

I need to find Julia. She's in danger.

Who is Julia?

My wife.

I don't understand.

Why isn't it working?

Hurry!

Come on!

Go. Henry, go!

I won't leave you.

Okay.

Stay back! Don't come any closer!

Or else what?

Ye'll harm this woman and her child?

Just let us go, please!

I won't hurt her, I swear!

An ironclad oath ye've sworn to us Grants.

'Tis your duty to come back

and mine to make ye.

Death is the only way out.

Henry.

Where is he?

Damned coward!

We'll find him.

So ye're Lovat's wife, then?

Yeah. Yes.

Bloody mad bladier's convinced himself

ye're his Julia Beauchamp.

Thinks the bairn's his too.

Well, thank God you were able to help us.

Dinna fash.

We'll take you back to your husband.

Thank you.

Come.

If the lairds decide you must go to fight...

you will come back to me.

Never doubt it.

You are mine

as I am yours.

Where else would I belong but with ye?

And one day, when all this has passed...

we'll have a bit o' land

and a house

filled with the life

we mean to make together.

I'd rather die than doubt your word...

but war is brutal and unfair.

If war takes me from ye,

I will not let it take all of me.

If God wills it,

I'll give you a piece of me to carry.

A life with you.

The Lord.

A bit o' ground to work.

Some noisy weans.

That'll do me well.

That's all I want.

You coming in from the fields,

and me chiding the bairns to dust themselves off,

quieten down before dinner.

Some might call that a small life.

Let them.

It'd be ours.

There's a poetry about you, Ellen,

but... I don't think it's my words

that made ye fall in love with me.

No.

'Tis your soul...

that speaks to mine

in a language I think only angels understand.

Brian, Ellen.

There are MacKenzie men out in the woods.

- We have to go. - Aye.

And better be quick about it.

They're looking for me, not you.

I'll die before I let them take ye.

That's what I'm afraid of.

This is the path we chose, the only life that's ours.

That was before the crosses were lit.

You've sworn an oath to your laird.

- You must go to him. - To hell with my oath to him.

My oath to you is the only oath in matters.

We must hurry.

They will kill both of you if they find you,

but they willna harm me, not MacKenzie men.

They'll take me back to Leoch.

My brothers will be angry, but...

They'll beat you, Ellen.

They might, but you will be sleeping

with a sword and a musket by your side no matter what.

Would you rather face the enemy as a soldier

or run from them as a fugitive?

You're a man of honor, Brian Fraser,

an honorable soul,

and, deep down, you ken that above all,

that is why I love you.

Our handfast.

Less than a year and a day before we must marry.

You will be my wife before God.

Aye.

But you have a war to fight.

So do I.

After...

we will be together without hindrance.

'Tis for the best, man.

I canna believe he's gone.

The worst of days.

You have our sincere condolences.

- God rest his soul. - Aye.

Someone must pay for this.

That's what my clan will be saying.

And I think that we all know who's to blame.

And who is that,

pray tell?

A certain fickle and stone-hearted sister of yours.

You're in grief, Mr. Grant,

as all of us are.

Let us not say anything that we might regret.

How could Ellen have had anything to do

with your nephew's death?

She wasna here, as well you ken.

My men are out searching for her as we speak.

'Tis no secret that young Mr. Grant's heart

was broken at being jilted.

I'm sure we can all attest to the fact

that he was deep in his cups after his sister's wedding.

Perhaps he fell.

What, on his own dirk?

A Grant laird would never compromise his dignity

in that way over a mere lassie.

What, he's so drunk

that he loses his wits entirely,

while in this castle?

Ye think I'm a fool.

What are you accusing us of, eh?

Others have done more foolish things in the name of love.

Aye.

Who will be laird now?

Aye, my brother is right.

You have much to gain from Young Malcolm's death.

What are you accusing me of?

You spare us this false outrage.

How dare you insult my honor!

You want to talk about honor?

The crosses are lit. War is coming.

At Braemar, ye declared yerself for the Jacobites.

Our families are united whether we like it or not,

and we must put our differences aside.

The Grants' declaration, though from my lips,

was made under my nephew's lairdship.

It was a test to see if he would stand up to me.

A new laird would be within his rights

to declare for the loyalists.

For the time being, until a new laird is chosen,

that will be you.

Aye, I suppose it will.

Then I will see you on the battlefield.

If we decide to fight.

Perhaps ye'll be standing by his lairdship's side.

Well, for the sake of both our clans,

I hope so.

For the sake of both our clans,

I think we should draw this conversation to an end.

Aye.

And in conclusion, I think we can

all agree that your nephew's death was a terrible tragedy.

Mistress MacKenzie, please come back to your chamber.

Ye've had a horrible shock.

I want to see my brother.

They canna keep him from me.

God in heaven.

My poor Malcolm.

Maura.

Have ye no' seen?

None of the windows have been opened.

The clocks havena been stopped.

Why are the proper respects no' being paid?

I'm gonna ensure that they are, lass.

I'm gonna take him home.

Now, I'm sorry I have to leave you so soon,

but I must.

I'll be stuck here with the women then.

The MacKenzies will get what they deserve,

but ye must be patient.

First, I must bury yer brother.

Promise me.

When the war is over,

he will have the funeral he deserves.

Aye.

And until then, we must pray that Mr. Bug finds

that damn bladier,

so that I may have the legal protections

I require to lead the clan and...

ensure that I'm formally installed as laird.

Keep me abreast of the goings-on here.

Here! She's over here!

Caleb! Up here!

- Take her now! - Do it!

Lady Ellen.

You need look no further, Caleb.

You may take me back to Leoch.

You've repeatedly said that your wife

and son are in danger.

Let's try and provide the police

with as much information as possible

so they can find them. All right?

I told you, it has to be me.

The police won't be able to find them.

Why not?

Did you do something to harm them?

No, of course I didn't.

I know you think I'm mad, but...

I don't think you're a lunatic, Mr. Grant.

I think you're a man who has suffered immensely

and deserves every chance at recovery.

The police

very kindly

let me hold on to this

for now

to try and convey to you the severity of what's happened,

how badly you need help.

This was in your shoulder.

Luckily, the wound wasn't grave.

How did it get there?

What exactly do you want me to say?

I want you to admit

you need help.

If I had to guess,

I'd say you have some

lingering shell shock,

neurosis.

It can cause delusions,

be extremely debilitating.

Nightmares. Waking nightmares.

I think you're living in a fantasy

of your mind's own making.

1715.

But you weren't clashing with the Jacobites

at the Battle of Sheriffmuir.

You were on the Western Front, 1915 or thereabouts.

Just, none of it makes any sense.

Sometimes, we have to tell ourselves stories

to make it all seem a bit more palatable...

But now...

we need to separate fact from fiction.

Thank you.

It wasn't your fault, Balloch.

What an ordeal ye must have had, lass.

I'm sorry for ye, truly.

I willna lie.

Selfish though it may be, 'tis a joy to see

this wee mite's face again.

And yours.

I hope you didn't suffer too greatly on our account,

especially since it's all been in vain.

Dinna fash, lass.

Forgive the haste.

When he saw the horses outside, Lovat bid me to

bring ye both to him at once.

My Lord, we are returned to you.

- Let me see my son. - Are you well?

And poor dear Balloch.

I hope you weren't too hard on him.

He was no match for that depraved Grant man.

- Give him to me. - Please forgive me.

I'm-I'm shaken.

He is unharmed then?

Yes, yes, but he needs his rest.

- So if you will excuse us... - I am his father.

Davina,

mind Simon.

Did that disgusting bladier interfere with you?

Dry your tears, my pet.

I will deign to reclaim you as my wife.

Oh. No, I am untouched.

Oh, I'm just happy to be home.

My sweet rose.

I'm glad your delicate pink petals

have not been plucked by anyone else.

I need your fragrant bloom.

I need your warmth against me.

My lord, you have been drinking.

What did you expect?

Cursed crosses lit for war!

Wife and-and heir abducted!

Bastarding bastard of a son nowhere to be found!

Where is that bull-pizzle, Brian?

You ought to rejoice, my lord.

The seer spoke of times such as these,

said you would emerge victorious.

Well, surely you will go and fight.

I will need men,

although convincing them to follow me will be a trial,

given my...

present situation.

But that is my intention, yes.

Oh, my heart skips to think

of you as a soldier,

so dashing in a bright new coat.

Let me be a dutiful wife

and help you prepare.

First, I will make you a sobering,

warm cup of tea

to cleanse your spirit and ease your soul.

Very well.

Welcome home.

Oh, lass.

Did the Grants kill your Henry?

Oh, thank the Lord for his mercy.

They chased us all the way up to Craigh na Dun.

- To the stone circle? - Mm.

By God's bodikins.

What?

I dare no' speak my assumption aloud

for fear you might curse me or take away my sight.

Davina.

You think me simple, lass,

but I've always kent it from the moment I saw ye.

Yer hair, unnaturally short.

Strange garb, an odd manner of speaking,

even for a Sassenach.

Your hands as smooth as silk.

A-a servant who can read.

You ken things that no woman should.

Ye're one of the faerie folk.

Open your eyes, Davina.

Please.

I am not a faerie.

A cunning woman

or a witch of some kind then.

You canna deny it.

There is something rare and remarkable about ye.

I come from another time...

A time many years from now.

So does Henry.

King George V?

Yes, yes.

He is king, in the time I come from,

1923.

'Twas such a peculiar thing to say when first we met.

- Yeah. - I've wondered about it often.

We came by accident

through the stones.

And we've been trying to get back ever since

to our beautiful daughter, Claire.

Arch Bug caught up to us when we were trying

to pass through the stones, and...

Henry somehow went through without me and the baby.

I don't know how,

and I don't know why.

Davina,

she is only five years old,

and on the 20th of October,

she will turn six,

and I'm going to miss her birthday.

How will I bear it?

How will she bear it?

I love her more than life itself.

A part of my heart...

part of my heart is missing,

and I'm afraid it always will be.

If I can't-

if I can't get back to her, Davina...

God, please, God.

Oh, please, God, let Henry be with her.

Your comfort is my priority, Mr. Grant.

You must relax if this is to be successful.

If what is to be successful?

No, no. Wait, wait, wait, wait.

What-what are these for?

Electricity is a powerful therapeutic agent.

This is a unique opportunity.

Oh, uh...

to do-to do what, exactly?

Don't.

- You'll bite your tongue. - Huh?

I want you to go back in your mind

to your time as a soldier, hmm?

Think of the war.

Keep moving!

Come on!

The human mind is complex.

We'll have to assess things as we go.

Oh, I'm so sorry, Henry.

I tried.

It's a triumph.

Look at this. I...

I can't take this to the service.

It's not about poppies and wire.

Remembrance Day is about remembering.

When we do that, we bring the boys

that we left over there back home.

Every year, I watch you put this on,

and I wonder.

What?

I wonder if it takes you back there

to those memories,

if it still hurts as much.

Of course it does.

But then I see you,

and I hear Claire laughing,

and that brings me back home.

Both of you do.

You see,

when I'm with you...

everything else...

goes quiet.

Henry.

Come on.

They'll have started without us.

Claire, sweetheart. Time to go.

Can you run and fetch your coat and hat, please?

- Mm-mm. - What's the matter?

Floppy's lost.

Oh, Christ.

Bit of a situation.

- Floppy's gone AWOL. - Ah. Right.

Well, is she on the chair or by her books?

Oh, just...

you see, the next F-L-O-P-P-Y we get,

we buy ten of the bloody things.

She'll never let us leave without her.

We're quite late enough as it is.

Where's Floppy?

Oh, don't worry, my darling.

- She'll be somewhere. - Ah.

Taking a little nap in Mummy and Daddy's bed.

Right.

Everyone present and correct? Second time's the charm.

Run and get your coat, my little love.

It's time to go.

Claire?

Time for your next treatment, Mr. Grant.

Claire?

Daddy!

Daddy!

On the war.

Julia!

Claire?

Claire!

Let's keep going.

Ready?

Let's go.

Something's wrong. Something's missing.

What were you thinking about?

I don't know.

Julia. Julia.

You're using her as a shield for your inability to cope.

You need to think of the men in your unit...

- Julia. - ...of the horrors you saw.

Nurse Wilson, if you'd be so kind.

- Yes, Doctor. - Please, please!

Let's increase the voltage.

No!

It's for your own good.

No! No!

Oh,

God be praised.

You're home.

I'm sorry, Ma.

I should think so.

I've been sick with worry.

All's forgiven when I see yer faces.

Yer father will want to see ye.

Good luck with that.

Come.

Where in the name of all that's holy have you been?

I'm here now, am I no'?

You'll start gathering men at once for our military campaign.

For the Jacobites?

No, for the red-coated dogs who gloated when my lands

and titles were taken from me.

Well, who else, lad?

Have you something to say?

Will anyone follow you

after yer scandals?

I'll make them.

I'll persuade every Fraser man, woman, and child

that I'm their true laird,

the only one who can reverse our clan's fortunes

and restore prosperity.

You care only about your own prosperity.

I'll fight for ye and for the clan

because I'm a Fraser,

and I swore an oath.

But know that's because of the oath

I swore to you as my laird,

not out of any love I bear for ye as a father.

Ye think your motives matter to me?

You're starting to think an awful lot of yourself, boy.

Hold on to that attitude. You'll need it to recruit men.

Fail me, and you'll bring dishonor to your name,

whether you love me or not.

How could he have come from my loins?

You are a born leader.

Not everyone is blessed with the gifts

that God has given you.

Though I-I do wonder, my lord...

...if Brian knows best how to recruit your men,

it is such a momentous opportunity.

It would be a shame if the clan was weakened

by Brian's...

inexperience.

Aye.

Aye, 'tis a worry indeed.

Though I am loath to even suggest it, my lord,

given that I have been parted from you so recently,

you may be forced to accompany him

to show him how a Fraser of Lovat

should properly conduct himself.

Oh, our letters.

Hmm.

Hmm, what's this one?

A letter to an old girlfriend?

No.

No, it's worse than that.

Remember that young boy I tried to save in Passchendaele?

- Private Charlton? - Yes.

When he died, I, uh...

I thought perhaps I should write to his mother myself,

tell her about his last moments,

that he was thinking of her.

But you never sent this.

Couldn't bring myself to.

Didn't know if it would ease her suffering

or simply add to it.

Well,

we could send it to her now.

- After all these years? - Yes.

It'll be like the poppies that grew in Flanders Fields.

This...

captures a moment in time.

We don't know how many we'll have,

so we make the best of each one,

because in each moment,

we're different than the moment before,

hopefully for the better.

I love you.

And I want to capture you in this moment.

Then be with me in this moment.

Julia?

Julia, where have you gone?

Enough of that talk, Mr. Grant.

There's no one here but us.

I- I was- I was looking for you.

My uncle has taken Malcolm home.

He deserved better than this.

Aye, maybe he did.

I ken ye didn't want this marriage any more than I did.

No.

But...

...but here we are.

I only came to see if you were well enough.

I will be,

in time.

Then I will stay here a while all the same.

Chaplain's here

if you'd like to talk to him, Mr. Grant.

C.

C.

C.

C.

C.

C.

That letter keeps coming to me.

And the date, the 20th of October...

is it my wedding day, perhaps?

And the letter C.

C for cake then,

or, um, Craigh na Dun?

I heard you were found up near there.

The nurses told me they found a St. Anthony necklace

amongst your things.

I wondered if, uh, it might help you to have a wee chat.

The letter C.

I'm Reverend Wakefield.

C.

Do you believe in God, Mr. Grant?

If you think God can help me now,

perhaps you belong in here.

Julia gave this to me.

Is that your wife?

Do you know, I loved her before I ever saw her face?

Can you believe that, Reverend?

And that sounds mad, doesn't it?

We exchanged letters in the war.

Now, surely, that's fate.

That must be destiny or-or God,

that two people could find one another and-

and fall in love.

But the Lord, He giveth and He taketh away.

Well, isn't that fortuitous

or providential even?

The doctor said I could take down a letter for her,

if you like.

Yes, yes. Right.

You mustn't-you mustn't forget S-W-A-K.

Ah, yes, sealed with a kiss.

- Yes. - How charming.

We'll pop that on the back of the envelope when we finish...

No, no, no, no, no, no, write that down.

Write that down there.

That's-that's something I need to remember.

And, uh, and put-put-put the letter C and the date,

the date, the 20th of October. Put that down.

- That's not today's date. - No, it-it doesn't matter.

It's, uh... it will all help remind me.

Um, and put the letter-

put the name-the name Julia.

Now, that's-that's-that-

underline that- and-and the name Fraser.

Leathers, Leathers, and, um, something.

Something about an insect.

What is it? Bug. Write Bug.

That's important. I don't know why.

Um, and-and the prophecy about the king-that's-

well, that's the reason we're all in this mess, isn't it?

Uh, put-put that down,

he thinks my son is next in line.

Yes. Yes.

Oh, God.

Did you get all that?

What is your wife's address?

It doesn't matter.

It would never reach her.

She's not there.

I see.

You know, they don't let me write anything down myself,

but there are some things that I must not forget

if I'm to get back to her.

All right.

Why don't you hold on to this for now, then?

And we'll start fresh.

Perhaps a-a wee note to

another relative, um, or-or a friend.

There's-there's no one else to write to.

C. C.

The 20th of October.

Time for your rest, Mr. Grant.

C. C.

Oh, Mrs. Graham, thank heavens.

Just what I needed.

I'll let you do it the way you like it,

though you know I disapprove.

Aye. Cream first...

...and jam on top.

What a mess.

I wish you'd admit that jam first is far superior.

If you say so, Mrs. Graham.

It's bloody delicious either way.

You know, I'm glad we disagree.

It's a reminder that we are both of sound enough mind

to make a choice and blessed with the freedom to choose.

Can't take that for granted.

Never seen you so sentimental over a scone.

Oh, I shouldn't talk about it, really, but...

...some of these wounded souls in the asylum-

it's enough to break your heart in pieces.

They're completely away with the faeries.

And when I say that, I mean it.

There's this one chap...

they found him up near Craigh na Dun-

believes he's come from the past.

Poor sod.

And he's desperate to go back

because he thinks his wife's there.

To hear him talk about her, his love for her was moving,

the stuff of fairy tales.

- Well... - Don't say it.

Well, we have all heard the stories...

folk disappearing, men finding faerie wives.

Stories, aye.

They come from somewhere, Reverend.

Hmm.

You'd have any man who didn't believe in our folklore

locked up, wouldn't you?

Faeries, spirits, demons, angels, the same thing.

We're part of the same world, perhaps.

There are things that go beyond our understanding,

as you well know.

Nothing wrong with respecting the old ways.

Well, another case of jam first, perhaps.

I just wish there was something I could do to help.

They're in a prison twice over, mentally and physically.

Most of them will be in there the rest of their lives.

Did you miss me, brother?

How dare ye

after what you have done?

Why?

Why did ye run?

Why did you leave when you swore to me

that you would marry Malcolm?

And now he's dead.

I'm sick at the sight of her.

Take her away.

The question that you should be asking me

is why I've come back.

You'll want to hear what I have to say.

Lock her up in the chapel.

My darling.

Do you like the flowers?

I think that's an aye.

And so he should.

Delphiniums are his birth flower.

And your Zodiac sign is Leo.

Horoscopes are going to be all the rage one day,

my darling.

Horoscopes?

I'm a Virgo. Daddy is a Taurus, of course.

And your sister is a Libra.

It's a way of, uh, trying to tell the future

by looking at the stars.

Oh.

Some things dinna change.

The seer.

Do you think she might know anything about the stones?

More than likely, aye.

And...

if I was able to speak to her,

do you think that I could trust

that she'd be willing to help me?

We'd have to be careful,

but aye.

Maisri's seen beyond the veil.

She has talent.

Maisri's paid for her services and for good reason.

- She's rarely wrong. - Hmm.

She did mention a lass with dark curls and clear blue eyes.

Your wee Claire?

She said her time is still to come,

but-but she was wrong about the prophecy.

There'll be some truth to it, one way or another,

you mark my words.

There are things beyond our understanding,

do ye not think?

I'll believe anything if there's enough evidence for it.

I must find a way to summon Maisri

without Lovat finding out.

My darling.

We will move heaven and Earth to be reunited

with Daddy and Claire.

Visitor for you, Mr. Grant.

I don't know you.

Should I?

I'm Reverend Wakefield's housekeeper, Mrs. Graham.

I often bring treats to share with folk here on his behalf.

Would you like a biscuit?

I want to talk to you about where you've been.

Why?

I don't need another person to tell me I've lost my mind.

And what about your wife, Mr. Grant?

Have you lost her too?

I'm afraid that I'm starting to.

I don't remember the color of her eyes

or the sound of her laugh.

Sometimes, I worry that...

she isn't even real.

But...

I don't think I could have imagined

a love like that.

Hold that in your heart, Mr. Grant.

I believe you.

I believe you came through time.

Then you'll help me?

Nailed it.