All language subtitles for Highlander - Season 5 Episode 15

The Stone of
Scone: A Fable.

This is bloody heavy!

Stop your whining, man. You
sound like a horse in heat.

You're being paid well
enough. You, hurry along there.

Pull yourself together.

51, 52, 53, 54, 55,

56, 57, 58, 59, 60.

Right. We'll dig in through
here. Then we'll go straight up.

I don't know. If
we ever get caught--

You've been paid well enough to
do what you're told. Now, dig!

Wait! What?

You stay right here.

I'll take care of
whoever it is. Hmm?

I'll deal with this.

Deal with what?

- You!
- What the devil are you doing here?

- I might ask you the same question.
- Well, I asked first.

I'm here to steal the Stone of
Scone from Westminster Abbey...

and return it to its
rightful place in Scotland.

- Stone of Scone?
- Aye, the Stone of Scone!

- Ah, forget it.
- Your turn.

I'm here to blow that pompous ass
George off the throne of England...

and bring this abbey
down around his ears.

Not before I have
the stone, you don't.

But if you steal the stone,
I'll never get in here!

They'll seal the place up so tight,
not even a mouse will be able to get in!

But, Fitzcairn, the stone
is what is important.

- To who?
- To the people of Scotland!

But what about the
people of England?

Well, to hell with them. They're
thieving bastards. They're what?

- They're thieving bastards!
- I'll take you on!

What do you
mean, "uh-oh"?

Run! Run away! Run away!

Run! Fitzcairn!

He is Duncan MacLeod,

the Highlander.

Born in 1592, in the
Highlands of Scotland,

and he is still alive.

He is immortal.

For 400 years,
he's been a warrior,

a lover,

a wanderer,

constantly facing other
Immortals in combat to the death.

The winner takes
his enemy's head...

and with it, his power.

I am a Watcher,

part of a secret society
of men and women...

who observe and record,
but never interfere.

We know the truth
about Immortals.

In the end, there
can be only one.

May it be Duncan
MacLeod, the Highlander.

Here we are

Born to be kings

We're the princes
of the universe

I am immortal

I have inside
me blood of kings

I have no rival

No man can be my equal

Take me to the
future of your world

This is all your
fault, MacLeod!

My fault? You're the one that
brought the bloody gunpowder!

And you didn't
even bring enough!

How do you know?

Because the abbey's still
standing, you bloody nincompoop!

What did you call
me? Nincompoop!

That's it!

Wait. Now, this
is no way...

for gentlemen to
settle a dispute.

Then how do you suggest
that we settle it?

On the field of battle,
like the warriors we are.

Oh, very well, then.
What are the terms?

If I lose, I'll help
you steal the stone.

But if you lose,
you'll help me...

bring this abbey down
on George's head. Done.

When? When?

Tomorrow. The
battlefield at dawn.

Come on, Hugh Fitzcairn!

This is all your fault!

Ready?

Ready.

I'm going to
bury you, MacLeod.

-So who has the honor
of the first swing?

It makes no difference
to me, Fitzcairn,

because I'm gonna drive
you into the ground.

Expect no mercy from me.

From an Englishman?
I dinna need it.

You will, when you
see how I use this.

The best money can buy.

English briar.

Ha! You call that
a club? Now this--

This is a club.

After you.

I beg your pardon?

I couldn't have said
it better myself.

Ohh! Nicely done!

Is this some sort of
new English strategy?

Well, let's see
you do better.

No problem.

Mind the cow.

- I beg your pardon, sir?
- Just trying to help.

I dinna want your
help or need it.

Ach, damn you, Fitzcairn!
You did that on purpose!

Oh, that's a lame excuse. Anyone
can see, man, it's your grip!

There's nothing
wrong with my grip.

Your grip on the club,
sir-- It's all wrong.

You're impossible.

Ahh, the smell
of the damp grass.

An open fairway.

Driver in my hands.

Reminds me of the
old days, MacLeod.

There's a crosswind. I'll
just take my mulligan.

No mulligans, darling.

Amanda. You're late.

Sorry. No mulligans?

Of course there are mulligans.
Always have been mulligans.

Andy?

It ain't gentlemanly, sir.

One never takes a mulligan when
playing a proper round of golf.

It's only
children and--

begging your pardon,
miss-- women do.

I gave her odds.

I needed the money.

You bet Amanda when
she needed money?

Think I'm taking
an unfair advantage?

I think you're an idiot.

You might want to, uh, slow the
backswing down a little, Amanda.

And adjust your grip.

Just a little.

You were saying, Fitz?

Nothing.

Ta-ta, boys. I'll
see you on the green.

I think she's
done this before.

She's done everything
before, Fitz.

How come she's playing off the
men's tees and not the ladies' tees?

Part of the odds
I gave her. Hmm.

How much did you bet
her? A few... pounds.

A few thousand pounds.

Well, how good is she?

Lost your ball? I think
I saw it over here.

Need some help?
No problem.

Ah, yes. Here it is.

Yes, here's mine.

I believe, uh, that's
your ball, sir. Yeah?

No. No, this one's mine.
That must be someone else's.

This is your
mark, Fitzcairn.

You took an unplayable
lie without declaring.

An honest mistake.

Ah, a mistake, was it? You
miserable, lying little cheat.

Amanda. Hmm?

I'll forfeit the game.
The money's yours.

- Promise you won't tell MacLeod.
- Tell me what?

It seems our friend here is playing
hard and fast with the rules.

You cheated! A
simple mistake.

Anyone could've made it.

I've seen you cheat at cards, and
I've seen you cheat with women.

But golf? What kind
of man cheats at golf?

I have an impossible lie.

I swear! I haven't
done it for centuries!

Which century?

It was a long, long,
long time ago, MacLeod.

I can barely
remember it myself.

Well, I'm two strokes
ahead, Fitzcairn.

That makes you
two strokes behind.

Looks like you'll
be swinging a pick.

Two strokes ahead
Two strokes ahead

MacLeod.

Your ball.

How did it get buried
in the ground like that?

Who knows? Bad luck.

Oh, look. I'm in the
clear. Do you mind?

No.

Bad luck. Bad luck.

How did it get buried
in the ground like that?

You could always
take a penalty stroke.

Ach, penalty, my ass.

I keep telling
you. It's your grip.

The truth, Fitzcairn.

Did you cheat on that game
we had in 1720? Did you?

The future of a
nation was at stake!

It was the only way I could get
you to help me. Help him what?

Because of you, the Stone
of Scone was never returned.

Because of you,
Scotland lost its chance!

And because of you, we went
after those bloody Crown Jewels!

Uh,theCrown Jewels? We
could've had the stone!

Well, seems like I won't be swinging
that pick after all, MacLeod.

Rotten luck, you hitting
into the rough like that.

Still, you're a man of
honor to play it as it lay.

Aye, that I am.

And as a man of honor, you are bound
to help me restore the true king.

I gave my word,
and I will keep it.

Tonight the abbey
is rubble. Tonight?

Are you out of your
tiny little mind? No.

No. After last night,
they'll be waiting for us.

Piffle. What can
they do to us?

The same thing they did to Guy
Fawkes-- hung, drawn and quartered.

Oh. Oh.

But we Catholics have wanted to restore
the rightful king since Cromwell,

and blowing up Westminster Abbey is
just what we need to rally support.

You blow up the abbey,
you blow up the stone.

And the Scots will
never be behind you then.

And you need the Scots.

God, I hate it
when you're right.

There must be some way we
can rally men to the cause.

You'd need the bloody
Crown Jewels to do that.

Hah! The man's a genius!

Ah, no, no. Fitzcairn,
you cannot be serious.

Not the Crown
Jewels! Why not?

Be-Because it's madness!

No one gets in the
Tower of London.

Come on! Only a lunatic
would try it. Exactly.

Exactly?

I should've kept
me mouth shut.

You there!

I said you there!

Hmm! Dead drunk.

No, just dead.

Are you sure this man of yours
knows how to get inside the tower?

I should hope so.
He works there.

As what? The executioner.

Bernie Crimmins.
Crimmins? The fence?

Mmm. Are you out of
your tiny English mind?

And why not? They say he'd sell
his mother out for two pennies.

You worry too much. And besides,
he doesn't have a mother.

Oh, great. He's one of us.

Ah, Crimmins!

He's one of us? Ah, this
gets better by the minute.

Does he know he can actually
cut the meat off the bone first?

Maybe you should tell him.

- Mr. Crimmins,
I presume?

Jimmy the Dipper sent
me. Hugh Fitzcairn.

The, uh, floor
plans to the tower.

Forgetting
something, aren't we?

Ah, yes. Of course.

Sixty guineas.

Sixty guineas?

Oh, yes, you're
right. One hundred.

Ah, now. We seem to have
a little problem here.

What kind of problem?

Your man, he told
you the wrong price.

It's 200 guineas.

Two hundred guineas?
Why, that's robbery!

Things are tough all over.

I haven't got 200 guineas.

MacLeod, what are
we going to do?

Let me deal with
this. Mr. Crimmins!

The deal was 100 guineas,
and 100 guineas it is.

Now, you can take
it or leave it.

- I'll leave it.
- Very well, then.

- Mr. Fitzcairn, shall we?
- Ahem, MacLeod. One moment.

One moment. Mr. Crimmins,

you are a scoundrel
and a rogue.

- And as much as it
pains me to do so--

- The plans.

- MacLeod, would you?

- Adieu.

'Tis 3:00 at the
tower, and all is well.

Come on, Fitzcairn.

Get off me!

Come on.

Mallet and chisel. I thought
you brought the tools.

No, you did.

Eh, I'll go get them.
It'll take you too long.

Shows what he
knows. Stupid Scot.

Fitzcairn. Fitzcairn?

Idiot. You cannie leave
him alone for a minute.

Fitzcairn!

Over here, MacLeod.

Will you stop playing?
We have work to do.

Oh, how do you do it?

It wasn't my fault.
He surprised me.

I think you'd
better give up.

It'll take more than
one man to make me yield.

Yes, well, I've been meaning
to get around to that.

Throw down your sword!

I'm sorry.

- Yield and I'll
show you mercy.

No mercy! Show
him no mercy!

- I blame you
for this, MacLeod!

This is your fault! What
do you mean, it's my fault?

Why are you waiting about?

I've been shot!

How do you like it?

Will you go down?

I could've done that.

Really? Hurry,
men! Up the stairs!

MacLeod, the chains!
There's no time! Come on!

Without the jewels? Without them
or without your bloody English head!

If it hasn't escaped your notice,
we've just committed an act of treason,

and if we get caught, we can
be put in the Tower of London...

and beheaded by
your friend Crimmins.

And to think
I trusted you!

I'm sorry. It was a
long time ago, MacLeod.

Forgive and forget. No.

But we're
friends. We were.

Andy, you're a Scot.

What can you tell me
about the Scone Stone?

It's priceless, miss. Worth
more than the Crown Jewels?

They're just
bits of diamond.

But the Stone
of Scone, missy,

that's beyond
any price, aye.

Christmas, 1950.

With few days left for
Christmas, the race is on...

to get Santa's sleigh
loaded up in time,

and with shop windows
glistening like pre-war,

it's a real problem to
know just what to pick.

But Christmas isn't
just about having things.

There's lots of fun in going round and
seeing all the exciting things inside.

And mistletoe gives Auntie a chance,
even if you don't need it yourself.

Make others happy. That's
the spirit of Christmas,

as the sailor said, taking home
something to wash down the bird.

I'm sorry, madam. I'm afraid the Clermont
Club is a "members only" establishment.

Oh, really? Well, uh, from
all the action I've seen,

I thought maybe
it was a morgue.

Listen, would you please tell Mr.
Crimmins I would like to see him?

Very good, madam. Mmm.

Hello, sweetie.

Hmm! Very, very nice!

Lord Crimmins
will see you now.

Quelle surprise.

My dearest Amanda!

Lord Crimmins? You
actually bought a title?

One doesn'tbuy
a title, Amanda.

I merely helped the royal family
out of a rather nasty business.

A set of unfortunate photographs
came into my possession.

Oh, but not exactly
unfortunate for you.

Well, a matter of being in the
right place at the right time--

That's my Bernie. Always
working the angles.

It's Lord Crimmins,
if you don't mind.

So, what brings you
to see your old friend?

I've got a deal lined up, Bernie,
but I need a little advance.

How much? Only � 50,000.

Sorry. The bottom dropped
out of the art market.

Ah, but this isn't
art. This is a stone.

A priceless stone.

It's the score of
the century, Bernie.

Makes the Crown Jewels
look like dirt. Dirt?

Dirt.

Here's my proposal.

A 70-30 split.

70-30? Now, why
would I take that?

Oh, my darling, Amanda,

because your luck at the
gaming tables has been abysmal,

and you owe the Curson
Street Boys � 47,863.

And they're going to
break your... lovely legs.

Cheers.

All right.

It's a
deal-- 60-40.

I like you, Amanda.

Well, as much as I like anyone.
You're warming my heart, Bernie.

So, I want to be sure you
take this in the right way.

If you renege on
our little deal,

I shall cut out
your heart...

before I take your head.

Understood?

Perfectly.

Am I boring you?

What?

MacLeod, don't you think maybe
you're taking this a little too hard?

The man has no
honor at all.

Oh, it just breaks my
heart to see you this way.

You know, I say if the stone is so important
to you, we should just go and get it.

- You mean steal it?
- Yeah.

Impossible.

Oh, no, no, no. You see, with
my talent and your muscles,

the impossible takes
just a little bit longer.

Why would you want the Stone
of Scone back in Scotland?

To make you happy.

What?

Are you the only one
who can be selfless?

Don't I ever, ever,
ever get to be kind?

The stone has been locked up for 230 years
in Westminster Abbey, tight as a drum.

Yeah, but locks are my
specialty. Yeah. Look, sweetheart.

What? We couldn't do it, and there's
nobody crazy enough to try it.

MacLeod? Are you in there?

No. No. No. Yes!

Don't-- Don't
let him in!

Ah. Amanda, you're
dressed for the occasion.

MacLeod. Ohh.

MacLeod, my comrade,
my friend, my companion.

I am dying!

With guilt.

Poor baby. For 230 years,

I have lived...

with the memory
of my betrayal.

And it hangs over
me like a curse.

Please forgive me that.
Can you ever forgive me?

You're forgiven.
You mean it?

Yeah. Thank you!

Oh, oh! Fitzcairn.

You won't be... s-sorry.

I'm already sorry.

'Tis the season
to be jolly...

as Christmas Eve
descends on London.

Fitzcairn. I see you
dressed for the occasion.

I've been invited
to a party later.

Are you sure I
agreed to this?

Yeah, you agreed. He
agreed, didn't he? Mm-hmm.

But it's Christmas.
Nobody works on Christmas.

Oh, I've made some of my
best scores on Christmas.

See? Now, will you shut
up and let her work?

This is crazy.
Now for stage two.

Come on. Mind your pole.

You can't be in here,
miss. We're closed.

Oh, but it's Christmas.

Won't you 'ave a little bit
of Christmas cheer with me?

No, madam. Not
while on duty.

Oh, well, I only come to the abbey to
toast the soul of me poor departed mother.

Please. To Mother?

After all, it
is Christmas.

God bless us every one.

What the dickens
is in there?

Something to separate
the men from the boys.

Come.

Are you sure you know where
you're going? Of course I do.

Come on.

- There it is.
- Where?

The chair. Where it's
been for 350 years.

-Come on, Fitz.
- Quiet, quiet, quiet.

Can you hear that? I
don't hear anything.

- Nor do I.
- Someone's coming.

Quick. I know where
to hide. Come on. Fitz!

Come on.

Ow! Get in here, quick.

What about you? I'll take care
of him like I did the last one.

What's that?

A policeman. Oh, no.
She's locked us in.

Why?

Probably to get
rid of her partners.

But why would she do that?
It doesn't make sense.

The stone's of no use
to her. She's Amanda.

I wouldn't bother. By the
time you knock down the door,

every cop in Westminster
will be waiting for us.

- So what are we gonna do?
- Don't worry. She'll be back.

Think this suits me?

No.

Oh. Well, I never really
did like the forces.

There you go.

Where is it!

Bernie isn't
gonna like this.

Been plucking the
Christmas turkey, my dear?

What's the matter? Need
us to help you move it?

- I need you to help me find it.
- What do you mean, find it?

It's right there.
Under the chair.

This is a joke!

That's no joke. This
is the Stone of Scone.

It's a stupid rock!
It's not just any rock.

Legend has it this is the rock
that Jacob lay his head on...

when he dreamt of heaven.

Whoever sits on this sits
on the throne of Scotland.

The English stole it, and
now we'll have it back.

It's a rock.

I can't believe I did all of
this for a stupid chunk of rock!

Will you hold my pole?

Come on.

Are you lifting, MacLeod?

Of course I'm lifting,
Fitzcairn. Give us a hand.

- I don't do lifting, Fitzcairn.
- Amanda, I owe you one.

Good, because I owe
Bernie Crimmins � 50,000

You made a deal with Crimmins? Ah,
you two have something in common.

I thought I was getting an advance
on what was a giant diamond.

- Nobody said it was a diamond.
- Nobody said it wasn't!

Quick! It's gonna drop!

Oh, my God! That's all
we need! It's the police!

I'll drive. I'll drive!

Let me drive! I'm driving!

The silence of Christmas morning
was shattered by sirens...

as Westminster Abbey, spiritual
heart of the Commonwealth,

lost one of its most
precious relics...

when persons so far
unknown broke in...

anone of Scone.

The thieves left the
initials "J.F.S.,"

"Justice for Scotland."

Other priceless relics
were untouched...

as they dragged the
ancient Stone of Destiny...

upon which Scottish
kings were crowned...

and vanished into the
night through this door.

The honor of the
nation is at stake.

If you scoundrels are
listening to this broadcast,

know you will be found.

I'm much prettier
than this.

Don't you think I'm
prettier than this?

My eyes are too far apart,
and my nose is all wrong.

It just... doesn't
look like me.

Amanda, as long as it doesn't look
like you, then we're in the clear.

The only problem is they've
got the license plate number.

Oh, no.

I think we should leave the country
for a while. And what about the stone?

What about the stone? Crimmins
wants the stone or my head.

Yeah, well-- I'm on the
next boat to Algiers, boys.

Well, I've done my bit.
You've got the stone.

Fine. What about you?

I'm staying.
Well, as you wish.

You're leaving? Mmm.

Right, right. Fine.
You're leaving?

Yeah. Fine.

Ah. My
dear--

Well, well,quelle
surprise.

If it isn't Amanda.

Get your hands off me!
Who the hell are you?

Scotland Yard, miss. I must ask you
to accompany us to the station house.

I'm under arrest?
What's the charge?

Treason.

There is a startling
new development...

in the Stone of
Scone investigation...

as police have apprehended a suspect
who's being questioned at Scotland Yard.

I told you. I was nowhere near the
place on Christmas. I was out caroling.

Look, love, I don't think you
understand the trouble you're in.

Breaking into Westminster Abbey,
stealing a national treasure.

Really? Now, uh, which
Westminster Abbey would that be?

The charge is treason
against the state.

I suppose you have
proof? A little.

Your fingerprints were all
over the coronation chair.

There is a little matter of being
recognized by one of the guards.

You know the one.
The one you drugged.

You call that proof?

Look, love, I
know how it is.

Innocent young girl falls
under the wrong influences.

But in this case, we know that you
were just being used by those two men.

Give us the names,

and you might not
grow old in prison.

You'd be surprised.

What? No one
knows she's here.

It would appear you
have been sprung.

Next time, be a little bit
more careful who you pick up.

Amanda.

I've changed my mind. I'd like
to talk about that deal now.

Ticklish, are we?

Oh, I love ticklish women.

Tell me, my dear,

what are the three words a woman never
wants to hear when she's making love?

I give up. Exactly.

Go away.

High Fitzcairn, miss,
you're under arrest.

Arrest? Whatever it is,
you've got the wrong man.

I know nothing about the
stone. I'm not even a Scot.

Save it for the magistrate.
Your partner turned you in.

Um, you couldn't give me a half
an hour to get ready, could you?

The search for the
missing Stone of Destiny.

With two suspects
in custody,

Scotland Yard continues its
search for the third villain.

The dragnet has been extended
throughout the country,

and no stone, no
matter how small,

is being left unturned.

Many Scotsmen feel the removal
of their Stone of Destiny...

may be a gesture to stir up
Scottish sentiment for home rule.

A little bit here,
a little bit there.

This stone, that stone,
your stone, my stone.

A little
bit there--

Looks like the
original to me.

Hmm.

Now, to move
it to the car.

Oh, no! Damn! Oh!

Oh, no!

Oh, well.

Oi, give us a
blanket here!

Tell me, Miss Judas,

did you sell
MacLeod out too?

No, I didn't. Look.
Crimmins was waiting for me.

I had to make the best of a bad
deal. I ratted on you to save my neck.

Speaking of deals,

what do you think
they'll do to us?

Well, the charge
is treason,

so I would say... 60-40
we get the hangman.

- 70-30. -
You're on.

- How much?
- Five thousand.

- But you haven't got any money.
- I'll give you a marker.

Oh, right. You
don't trust me?

Trust? You?

You'll get it when
you're good and ready!

In London, the Stone of Scone
has still not been recovered.

Prime Minister Churchill has
little to say to the crowds...

anxiously waiting
outside 10 Downing Street.

It's a sticky
situation, sir.

If the Scots get wind that the stone can't
be found, it will rally them to the cause.

Oh, bad business.
Indeed. The worst.

The press will tear
me apart for this.

Well, use them, sir.
Issue a press release.

Tell them that it
was a schoolboy lark,

that you're releasing the two
responsible in return for the stone.

But the idiots don't
know where it is.

Well, trust me, sir. Release them, and
I'm sure the stone will be returned.

I sense something more than
love of country, MacLeod.

It's personal, sir. It
would be best for England.

Exactly. You will have the stone
back, although it's not in one piece.

How did the bloody
thing get broken, anyway?

Never mind. As long
as we have it back.

Good man, MacLeod. There
will be no questions asked.

Thank you, sir.

The Stone of Scone
has been recovered.

It was anonymously
placed at Arbroath Abbey,

close to the grave
of William the Lion.

And here by appointment
to receive the stone...

came Counselors
Pontham and Gardner.

We were approached--
Mr. Gardner and I--

to act as
intermediaries...

to, um, facilitate the return
of the Stone of Destiny...

to, uh, the Scottish
people and to their king.

And so the Stone of
Scone has been returned...

to its rightful place
cone of Westminster Abbey,

and there is joy throughout
our great kingdom.

Ah, you're a sight
for sore eyes.

How'd you manage to spring
us? Don't ask. But I did.

Our official pardon?
Ah, no. Better.

It's reward money for information
leading to the recovery of the stone.

Ah. Wait. I ratted
on you. That's mine!

I think not. It's mine.
I think not. It's mine.

Yours? Yeah. If you hadn't
cheated in the first place,

none of this would've
happened. Excuse me.

Did I hear you correctly?
Did you call me a cheat?

I think he did.

Cheat, cheat, cheat.

-Nobody calls me a
cheat. - You're a--

I demand satisfaction.
You shall have it.

Tomorrow. Dawn.

Dawn it is.

And, uh, Fitzcairn,
no mulligans.

She'd make a fortune
with me as her coach.

She doesn't need a
coach. Are you serious?

Everyone needs a
coach, especially you.

Oh, very nice shot!

Hmm. Thank you.

You see, you keep
the hands right,

and you slow the
backswing down.

And the follow-through
comes completely natural.

MacLeod, how did you--
I shall demonstrate.

- Oh, my goodness!
- Huh.

That's the way to do it.

Seems a little complicated, but,
after all, it is a Scottish game.

I'm sorry about the stone.

We did our damnedest, but I suppose
some things aren't meant to be.

You tried.

I told you, man.
It's your grip.

He won't have it, but I keep
telling him. Anyone can see.

Is it true what they say that whoever sits on
the stone is the rightful ruler of Scotland?

So they say. Oh.

I'm on the green, MacLeod.

Aye, it's a good
place to put a seat.

It's a little bit
hard on the bottom,

but it's better than
sittin' on the grass.

The end.

And here we are

We're the princes
of the universe

Here we belong
fighting for survival

We've come to be the
rulers of your world

I am immortal

I have inside
me blood of kings

I have no rival

No man can be my equal

Take me to the
future of your world

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