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So it happened in those days of the early great war,

which shook the country for decades to come,

that Rose turned her back on life as a soldier.

And her story, though not beginning there,

certainly took a serious turn.

THE TRUE TALE OF A DECEIVER OF LAND AND FOLK

WHO, THOUGH BORN A WOMAN, ASSUMED THE GUISE OF A MAN,

AND UNDER A FALSE NAME COMMITTED MANY A WICKED DEED.

It's all in order.

Nothing's missing. – Not as far as I can see.

He's in possession of this document. The inheritance can thus be claimed.

Does the gentleman know the land?

As a boy, I spent two summers there with my mother.

After my father's death, we were graciously accepted on the farm.

When lightning struck the little chapel, setting it ablaze.

No one has tended the farm.

Why has the gentleman only now come forward?

The news took ages to reach me. I was a soldier.

Where?

In Brabant.

Ten years.

And your lady mother?

Dead, too.

All of them.

Since the same day was no longer deemed suitable for a visit,

it was agreed to set off the following morning

to survey the farm.

The animals have been divided. Among the villagers.

They would've perished otherwise.

It's good land.

But it demands everything for only a little yield.

One must know what one is doing, or better leave it be.

As a soldier, the gentleman fought for the country.

That doesn't mean he's up to the battle with the land.

You see, there is a lot to do before the actual work can even begin.

It's not for everyone. No shame in that.

I'm willing to buy the land from you at a good price.

And I'm willing to stay.

To finally settle down.

To try my luck in this glorious community.

We can settle the formalities and sign the documents in the coming days.

A first arrival was complete.

And though Rose found no one to toast with her,

her money was willingly accepted.

This here's the bullet.

Went through my mouth.

Totally flat.

Not only my face, everything has a new shape now.

In the village they call him the soldier.

And

a misfit. – Be quiet.

That there's something mysterious about him. – I said be quiet!

What is life in deception and lies?

No heroism in that.

Just constraint and hardship, and constant vigilance.

And can such a life be called freedom?

Some say time itself brings answers.

Others say: to His own, the Lord gives even in their sleep.

Be that as it may,

Rose had never slept as soundly as she did that night.

And God was to come the very next day.

What's wrong?

The storm knocked down the fences and the sheep escaped.

Maybe we can lodge them with you?

Come on, help!

Move!

Come here!

Lift!

The bear was found dead in the woods the next day.

The meat was tainted.

But from the fur,

they made a cloak, a cap, and a collar in Rose's honour.

The soldier, the misfit, the strange heir

had become a bear-slayer,

no longer forced to fight the old ways.

He had instead written his own story into that of the village.

So what else could possibly happen?

And though God reveals Himself rarely, or too vaguely in everyday matters,

time unmistakably passed by.

A year had passed since her arrival,

and a powerful entrepreneurial spirit had taken hold of Rose.

She thought of expansion, growth,

of surplus and even profit.

Good to see the land growing again.

I didn't believe you could do it.

Neither did I.

Every day, I stand in awe of the miracle of being here.

I never before was able to think of a tomorrow.

What's coming, what will be.

I was far too busy surviving each day.

And now,

for the first time, how wonderful and beautiful.

And what joy it gives me

to imagine what else is possible.

What else one could create or build.

For that, I need this land.

It's a starting point.

But land has a different value than cash money.

Money you spend once, but land gives year after year.

Like a woman's womb.

No.

I won't sell the stream to you.

But I'll make you a proposal.

How you can get the land while everything stays the same for me.

I have five daughters. They eat me out of house and home.

So much had Rose accomplished thus far.

For that, she had had to practice discipline,

strict abstinence.

Every day.

She had had to endure in order to demand.

To renounce in order to receive.

To conceal in order to exist.

But once necessity is satisfied,

a desire for more quickly arises.

For greed is intoxication.

It makes one believe one is entitled to it all,

and it justifies itself on its own.

It knows no boundaries.

Greed is without measure, without aim or discipline.

A barrel can't be more empty than empty.

But it can easily overflow.

This is Suzanna.

Unblemished,

God-fearing,

skilled in women's work.

She nursed her mother to the end and endured much suffering.

That's what there is.

Be quiet. – Don't fidget.

My late wife started this.

Even in childbed, she worked on each girl's dowry.

But she was weak. – Don't.

Very weak.

Often bedridden.

Well?

This gentleman wishes to court you.

I'm willing to give you to him.

Are you also willing?

Take the cow!

Let go!

Move!

We'll all get better acquainted tomorrow.

Won't the fire take?

Shall I?

I can try. So our clothes dry.

Or will the Master? He is more skilful, anyway.

Did we leave the wedding meat and pickled goods at the cart, too?

I don't know.

We shall thank the Lord that the last days were plentiful, and go to sleep hungry.

You have graciously kept me this day

And I pray that You forgive me all my sins

For into Your hands I commend myself, my body, soul, and all things

Let Your holy angel be with me

That the evil foe may have no power over me

Amen

Above all things,

I value your purity.

And long will I preserve it.

Move!

Nothing was damaged

as far as I can see. Will be enough to make us a home.

A pretty one.

Won't you sing us a little song to celebrate the day?

Come!

I don't know what.

Doesn't matter. Sing.

Commit whatever grieves you – Come here!

At heart and all thy ways

To Him who never leaves thee

On whom creation stays

Who freest courses maketh

For clouds, and air, and wind

And care who ever taketh

A path for thee to find

The Lord thou must repose on

If thou wouldst prosper sure

His work must ever gaze on

If thine is to endure

By anxious care and grieving

By self-consuming pain

God is not mov'd to giving

By pray'r must thou obtain

Where are you going?

Into the village.

I promised the pastor I'd help with reading and writing.

Several people are interested in trying to learn how.

Can the Master find no work to do here?

I can.

But I promised.

I could accompany you.

It's so quiet here.

This is your name.

It only consists of five letters that are repeated.

Want to try?

S...

Like this, easy.

Come on. – Wait.

I wanted to ask if Suzanna behaves well.

If she's obedient in all respects and conducts herself properly.

Or if she resists.

Or if you find her behaviour repulsive.

No, no. She's precisely as you described her.

Even better.

You know how it is with breeding?

The bull that won't mate gets replaced.

We're so busy, I don't have time to think about breeding animals, too.

Marriage is a contract you entered into.

It's only fulfilled when consummated.

And promptly or it's null and void. As are all other engagements.

Like the land beneath your feet.

No need to worry. Everything is as it should be.

What?

Turn around.

What is it?

Won't you come down for a moment?

I've conceived.

What?

Conceived.

There can be no doubt.

A butterfly flew through the window just now and settled on my belly.

It's the sign.

It happened to Saint Veronica, too.

It's still early, but I congratulate you on this blessing.

Of a morning early, as the roosters crow

We march out through the door

And, with eyes like coals a-glow

The girls watch us and adore

We saunter past the bushes...

I'll keep the child with me for a while,

but all of us in the box-bed won't work forever.

Why is the good meat in the soup today?

It's a day of celebration.

We'll need to expand.

Fell trees.

We need a break-through in that wall. – Get out.

Over there I think.

Move!

One cannot hope for a child every time marital duty is fulfilled.

We'll wait and see.

But that's how it is.

Well?

What has the father got to say? – Who?

The father!

A lively and healthy child was born,

though Rose hadn't expected it

and others found it weeks too early.

And while Suzanna easily settled into her role as mother,

Rose's feelings of fatherhood were confusing and more complex.

Yet all had changed for the better.

Rose had again risen in the eyes of the community.

She made the land blossom, as she had the flower of her wife.

And even if the blessing of no further child should follow,

Rose had already fulfilled the sole purpose of existence

and only duty to the community that can be:

reproduction.

No matter what others claim.

Yet it isn't always the great events that bring change.

Even small things can have a great impact.

Like the flap of a butterfly's wings.

Or the sting of a bee.

I thought you were in the barn.

He's been teething and crying all day.

Now you've woken him again.

What's under your eye?

Nothing. – And on your hand?

Come here quick. Come on.

Come!

Lift!

There.

The stinger is still there.

And there.

Help me take off his trousers.

Pull!

Pull!

Pull!

There are more.

We need boiling water. Run to the well.

Don't just stand there, run!

Take the other pot, too!

We wanted to ask about the Master.

He's very weak.

Needs rest.

No one can see him.

If we don't want to fear for his life.

But everything must carry on as usual.

This has been agreed upon.

You maids are to go out onto the field, too.

Until our Saviour gives the Master back his health, for which we now pray,

I'll direct our efforts.

This is what the Master wants.

We go on and we wander from one year to another

We live and we do prosper with you, oh Pater Noster

Lend us thy blessing-treasure to each of our endeavours

May the light of Your grace fall upon us, one and all

Have mercy on the sick...

Who are you?

It'd be better if I left.

Yes, it would.

But you can't.

You're weak.

You'd drop beneath the first tree.

Someone else would find you.

And then...

And then?

The child will be bound to me

for the coming weeks, maybe even half a year.

Then things will be easier.

When the roads are clear of snow and ice,

then you can leave.

There'll be plenty of time to invent a story by then.

That night, Rose spoke till dawn.

Hesitantly at first,

then without restraint.

She told of a childhood in the orphanage,

of the first time stepping into a pair of trousers,

of all the later attempts.

Spared no details concerning the war and life as a soldier.

Spared neither herself, nor Suzanna.

She told all.

Also how she came to assume another man's place and inheritance.

And how good it felt to talk.

She had often imagined exposing herself.

Yet she was still surprised by the relief

of no longer carrying her secrets alone.

There was only one thing she didn't want to reveal:

her real name.

So that Suzanna would never let it slip by mistake.

What are you doing?

Just looking.

How is the Master?

Unwell. In you go.

No, don't. – I need some air.

Here. I'll open your window.

Stop gawking. – Stirring with one arm is possible.

Get to work.

A good sow? – Yeah, lots of meat.

Back to work.

Come along.

Come!

Come on!

You coming?

Whose child is it?

You won't be alone long after I'm gone.

What?

Your father won't want that.

He'll marry you off to the first comer, as he did with me.

A stranger.

You think you're the lady of the manor.

But you don't belong to yourself.

Maybe...

there's no need to invent a new story. Maybe...

it can stay as it is.

You and I are accepted

as a unit.

That's how they see us.

That's what gives us freedom.

There's no need to change that.

No need to decide now.

The bed you sleep in up there...

Is it good?

The servants need their own lodgings.

At the end of the field, at a good distance.

And we need a tub.

You shouldn't need to wash in the woods.

Or even a bathhouse. It's unsafe in the main room.

And reading and writing...

you'll teach me both.

Though Rose and Suzanna had agreed not to make any immediate decisions,

everything had already changed.

They walked taller, freer before one another, and more independent.

They were more attentive towards each other.

For the first time.

All of this had come unexpectedly,

as only spoken words can bring about.

But more was yet to happen that day.

What's wrong?

One of the maids hadn't returned to the farm at the appointed hour.

The next day, she was brought back by her father and brothers.

We combed the woods all night in worry.

These two were now to inspect the pond, I was headed for the village.

We didn't know.

We found her hiding this morning and came straight here.

Why did you leave and worry us all sick?

Keep quiet. – But his hands are small.

Enough now.

Apologize to your Master, beg his pardon, ask to be taken back.

You've been treated well. No worse than elsewhere. You never complained.

But I'm not holding you back.

Thanks for returning your child, but who's to say she won't run off again...

But...

...and we must drop everything and rush off, again fearing something has befallen her?

The Master is no Master. – Huh?

The Master is no Master. – Let her speak!

They say he's like a woman below. – Shut your mouth.

All this commotion over that? – I know what I saw.

When?

When would you have seen this? – As the Master was sick.

What are you talking about? No one was with him.

When he was stung. – I was alone.

We took off his trousers to find the stingers.

What could she have seen? – Who knows?

You're mad. That was days ago. Why bring it up now?

I said it right away. She mocked me!

Liar!

You told me to shut up. No talking is allowed in this house.

Liar! – If I ask questions, I'm the evil one.

Liar, liar, liar! – Go inside, Suzanna.

And yesterday in church...? All before our very eyes.

Your daughter is young and more of a child than one might think,

discussing things she hopefully knows nothing about.

We have to get the harvest in before dark.

We've lost half a day!

And have two hands fewer now. I hope the damage will be minimal.

Your sons here work for my father-in-law.

As do I.

Let's keep this to ourselves, so you suffer no damage yourselves.

Your sister still needs work?

Yes.

Well, then...

A good night's rest.

A good night's rest.

Now.

What now?

It's quite simple. We'll settle it right here.

Settle what? – You prove it.

That I'm a man? – Yes.

And heir to this land. – Not a fraud.

By doing what?

Dropping my pants and showing my cock?

Then it'll be over and done with.

This house? Is it real?

The soil here? And the land?

The money.

The good wages you received. And double at Christmas. Is that fraud?

Or the left-overs from our harvest.

Or you.

I taught you the alphabet from A to Z.

The words you can write. The contracts you can read,

so no one can cheat you again and you get what you deserve.

Is that fraud, too?

You lost your arm, is that real?

You standing here, and still alive, is that fraud?

And here, the bullet, look.

And my flesh!

I can't see myself, please help.

I took a bullet to the face for you and this country.

Is that true? Or am I fine, nice and smooth, nothing but fraud.

I don't know, and neither do you.

So quick, go home to think about what might be meant by fraud.

Have I ever seen your cocks?

Or asked about them?

We can do it, but then let's make it official.

I need to see between your legs, male and female.

Your cock! And yours! And your father's!

Get the bailiff, let's make it official, providing you can afford the certificate.

Have the pastor announce it from the pulpit.

Go. Get the bailiff.

Go in groups so no one can claim the bailiff was bribed.

The rest of you can sit at my door and wait,

so you don't miss the proof you're so desperate to see.

And until I see your flesh, I don't want to see your faces again.

There's another door.

The bailiff was astonished at the request with which he was approached.

But not even his presence secured the proof they demanded that day.

News of these events had deeply shaken everyone.

The community that had welcomed Rose into its midst

felt defrauded and deceived.

It saw itself dishonoured, sullied and tainted by Rose's deceitful actions.

The vehement demand that an example be made of them, so the community might cleanse itself,

was deemed absolutely necessary.

On the third day of their journey,

some adventurers tracked down the two fugitives,

and brought them back to the village.

Rose.

Rose. – Yes.

Rose.

But even the country's scholars fell into dispute,

as to who could pass judgment on such a curious case.

For that reason, three months passed

before Rose could be given a proper trial.

The bind.

The horn.

The spike.

No.

Examinations have shown

that the defendant is a healthy woman.

There's nothing masculine about her.

Her clitoris is of normal dimensions.

She could not have penetrated her purported wife with it.

Semen, however, has definitely flowed in the other direction.

The accused is with child.

One is a female.

But pretended to be a man.

Yes.

And the inheritance?

To whom did it belong?

A comrade, a friend.

He often spoke about it.

About coming back after the war, and what that might be like.

But he fell.

His leg was blown off and he bled out.

So I took his things.

The document, too.

I thought

it'd be a pity if nobody made anything of it.

We were like brothers.

And this?

Yes.

Where did one acquire it?

In war as well.

Sometimes we were ordered

to show the defeated who their Master is.

Ordered to? – Yes.

It was stupid.

And brutal.

But not taking part would've been even more dangerous for me, so I had it made.

No one noticed a thing.

And the purported wife?

She knew of nothing, is completely innocent, and must please be released.

But then, who is the father of her child?

And this one?

I was also shown who my Master is. – By whom?

I don't know. There were four of them.

Why would one act this way?

I thought

it's possible.

What?

That I could live this way.

As a man?

No, I didn't want to be a man.

What, then?

There is more freedom in trousers.

And they are just a bit of cloth.

So I put on trousers.

Who allowed her to do so?

No one.

No one?

Me.

So one created oneself!

Community exists only with rules.

And rules are determined by facts.

No male member could be found between one's legs.

But indeed, a hole.

The impossible may be wished for, yet it may not be lived.

Wanting to live the impossible, one turned against reality

and against the necessity of following the dictates of one's body.

One placed oneself above the law that makes life in a community possible.

And by opposing reality, necessity and the law,

one also turned against the community. That's what one chose.

Thus, electing that possibility has deprived one of one's freedom.

Did one really believe it oneself?

That it could succeed?

Does one feel no guilt?

Those who sin against the community

will no longer be part of it.

They must be removed.

For a period by incarceration.

Or forever

by death.

But perhaps one is not subject to limitations?

Maybe one will grow wings

and simply fly away.

Or does one think that's not possible?

Judgment is passed.

By sword.

When?

As soon as one has given birth.

No harm shall come to the child, as that would contravene God's commandments.

One will remain here until delivery.

Suzanna's sentence

has also been passed:

by sack and river.

The sentence was carried out immediately.

She's said not to have taken it well.

She caused the executioner toil and trouble.

And herself much suffering.

Merciful Father

In the face of death, I confess to You the sins and misdeeds

That I committed in thoughts, words and actions

They are a great source of regret to me

By the bitter, innocent suffering and death of Your son Jesus Christ

I beg You to be merciful to me and forgive me forever all my sins

That I may be worthy of entering into Your house

Merciful Father

In the face of death, I confess to You my sins and misdeeds...

People are selling this on every corner.

I passed by three on my way here.

Shouting at the top of their lungs,

stuffing coins into their pockets.

That's what they're saying about one.

THE TRUE TALE OF A DECEIVER OF LAND AND FOLK...

Is it true?

In the final weeks of her life, Rose found herself a task

she was determined to complete.

Though others had ruled on her life,

Rose wouldn't let them take her story.

She had begun writing it down.

It was meant for no one but herself.

And when she reached the present moment, she wrote herself beyond it.

She wove herself a fantasy of what might have been.

For impossibility is just a word.

And words can be changed.

Once spoken, they exist, and with them, a new reality.

All this ran through Rose's head,

while elsewhere people debated her beheading.

The prisoner wishes to rehearse her execution.

We've agreed to allow this request.

And you'll assist.

So...

One, two, three, four, five.

Forgive me, God, forgive me, King.

Forgive me, people.

And, one, two, three.

Forgive me, God, forgive me, King, forgive me, people.

And, one, two, three, four, five.

Forgive me, God, forgive me, King, forgive me, people.

To the scaffold.

Do you admit your guilt?

Yes.

Then you'll pay your executioner.

And receive your punishment as purification.

Hold still.

Now that it's complete, the execution is set for tomorrow.

Would one like to see the child beforehand? – No.

It could be brought here.

It's not because I'm heartless and hard.

It's for the child.

Not only will I see his face, he will also see mine.

He mustn't have an image of me, so he can't search for me later.

The executioner's first blow fell badly,

and bit deep into Rose's shoulder.

The second found its mark.

After her death, Rose's body was dismembered, burned,

and her ashes scattered at an undisclosed location

so that she would remain in no one's memory.

Today I thought we do not come from God.

We only imagined and invented ourselves.

I felt very calm then and said,

I've come this far,

and did what I could.

Subtitle Copyright: Way Film GmbH Translation: Matthew Way