Original subtitles

The Bastard Executioner.

All new, Tuesdays at 10:00 on FX.

FX presents.

The Bastard Executioner.

*

*

(panting)

(men shouting, swords clanging)

(grunts)

(groans)

(men shouting)

(yells)

(yells)

(yells)

(yells)

(yells)

(groaning, panting)

(laughter)

(gasping softly)

I am devoted.

Your servant.

You have a destiny to claim.

Tell me...

heavenly one.

Tell me what you will have me do.

It is time to lay down the sword, Wilkin Brattle.

(older woman's voice): Your savior needs you

to live the life of a different man.

Yes.

I will.

I understand.

I will.

(birds chirping)

*

(dragon roaring)

(screams)

(gasps)

(roaring)

(screaming)

(gasping)

(panting)

(sighs)

The dream?

You're my only dream.

(chuckles softly)

Will you ever tell me what you see?

I see only my lovely Petra.

(sighs)

Oh, please.

How can you desire such a cow?

Oh, but a beautiful cow it is.

(laughing)

(moos)

Oh, he kicks fierce

as his father this morning.

How do you know it's a he?

Annora insists

your firstborn will be an heir.

Ah, we're taking divine council

from the Slavic witch now, are we?

She's a healer, not a witch.

Her herbs help my weakness and sleep.

And the silent hooded one... Does he offer

dirt scratch visions of our son's fate?

Yea.

Insists he'll be as pious

and mule-headed as his father.

I'm not mule-headed.

I just devote to the thing at hand. Good.

Get your breeches up

and devote to filling the barrels.

We're near out of water.

Think that would be a task for a strong cow.

(both laughing)

(moos)

(laughing continues)

(sighs): Oh.

Oh, no! Oh!

(laughing continues)

Ooh!

(laughing continues)

(man grunting, sighing)

(woman sighing)

(both panting)

I'm sure they're wasted seeds.

Like the rest.

God will bestow us with a child in his time, Erik.

Then let God waste his hours

chasing a barren hole with swollen meat.

(door opens)

(door slams)

(quiet knocking)

Come.

(door opens)

Morning, Baroness.

Morning.

(indistinct chatter outside)

(horse neighs in distance)

Should I draw a bath, milady?

I need more than a bath,

sweet Isabel.

So much more.

* Born with a heart

* That could ache more than beat *

* The mind of a killer

* The soul of the meek

* Flock with no shepherd

* Is a vulnerable game

* I can live without a hearth *

* Without love

* But I do need a name

* Father, do you burn

* If your hand is in fire?

* Does your head spin with rage *

* When fooled by the liars?

* King of the kings

* Do you feel any pain?

* Do you feel any pain?

(wind whistling softly)

It is time.

Your pagan confidant awaits you.

(Petra laughs)

As does your fur-covered squire.

(sheep bleats)

I'm looking.

Calm yourself.

You're such an impatient ewe.

(both laughing)

(bleats)

I'll sheer you raw,

throwing that in my face.

It was but one time.

Very dark.

She had familiar wool.

(bleats)

I am true.

And you're one to talk.

Yeah, I see you in the fields.

Your tartish play.

Catching a rub on every buck and ram.

Mutton troubles, my friend?

Good day, Wilk, Petra.

She's a bit of a crankypox.

(bleats) Eh...

I know.

Perhaps Miriam needs a little rest.

That's all she does is sleep.

Sleep, eat and shit.

That's because it's a sheep.

Eh?

Oh, wit. (Laughs)

Yeah.

And a beautiful one.

Yeah, I'm sorry, honeypot.

I know. My fault.

(chuckles)

(sighs)

Love spreads like a sweet healing balm.

Yea. (Chuckles)

(bleats)

(grunting)

How many troops with the tax collector?

Three knights of the familia, five horsemen.

All skilled.

These hooded thieves will meet a fierce surprise.

(grunts)

And if their hoods hide the faces of rebels?

They would ride in numbers with their wolf.

The Byth Encil wouldn't just steal

a mere piece of your bounty, my lord.

These attacks are an assertion of condition.

It's righteous peasants setting their own rule of tribute.

Then crush them, Milus.

They ignite the rabble.

If they steal from us again,

we'll have more aspiring outlaws than servants to wipe my shit.

(chuckles)

Take care, fool.

You're not scrubbing a floor.

Mes plus sincères excuses, mon Leige.

Brother Wilk.

(horse neighs)

We've heard from our friends in Glen Darby Birch.

Ventris comes again. Collectors.

Already? CALO: More brutal than ever.

Doubled the tax, doubled the guards.

TORAN: They'll be at our door by daybreak.

Our journey is longer traveling off the main trails.

We need to ride now if we want to catch them in darkness.

His troops will be ready for us.

The risk grows too great.

They'll take what little stock and harvest we have left.

A winter of starvation is the greater risk.

We can't do this without you.

Yea.

Gather supplies.

We'll need to ride before midday.

I want to fight, Wilk. No, Ash.

You're of better use here. But I'm of proper age.

It's a proper mind we're in need of.

ASH: I'm clever.

Please, I want to help.

BERBER: If we need to make haste

off beaten paths, no one knows the woods

better than our clever trapper. ASH: Yeah. True.

I know every twig from here to the sea caverns.

Please. You can ride with us,

but you don't fight. And the sheep stays here.

I get a hood though, right?

Yea. I'll make you one out of sheepskin.

(men laugh) PETRA: You can leave Miriam

in our pen; She'll be safe there.

(bleats)

You're a cruel one, Toran Prichard.

He's tupping mindless beasts, and I'm the cruel one?

Come on. (Clicks tongue)

Come on there, boys.

I know that look.

You should.

I wear it often.

Ventris is sly and brutal.

It's only time and chance before you feel his blade.

You're not a rebel, Wilkin.

Let the band of Byth Encil

take their defiant vengeance to our baron.

This isn't about vengeance.

You heard your father.

We take this risk

to survive.

The baron's tax leech comes twice a season now.

We've barely stock and food to live.

You're the only stock I can't live without!

(sighs)

ANNORA: Good morning, farmer.

Fair dame.

And how is our gentle lytling doing today?

Very active.

Hmm.

A life eager

to begin a greater journey.

Yea.

You must cover this wound.

The spill layer of the river swims with sickness.

I'm fine.

And in three days' time,

you will be weak and fevered.

Boil these.

Soak the wound in the broth.

Yea.

Thank you.

The other man.

God has put him on our path.

(door opens)

Quarter rips for the other two quaints.

(sighs)

It's double shillings for that.

Finish the task.

Fair rate will follow.

(screaming)

(sighs)

Did you soak the rag in dumb paste?

I... I...

The pot wouldn't fit in the bags, Father.

But I can...

(panting)

Stupid and weak.

Stupid and weak.

*

God, I hate when she does that.

Milady?

Lady Love?

Shit.

(gasps)

(coughs)

(sighs softly)

Can you please not do that, Love?

My heart drowns with you every time.

I'm fine, dear Isabel.

I've been swimming in this water since I was born.

The chill refreshes my spirit.

Reminds me of who I am.

The baroness who caught her death?

The hopeful Welsh girl who knows God holds her close.

He has a journey in mind.

Yes.

I know that girl.

Time is a most aggressive foe, Milus.

Favor of my rule changes with the wind.

The unrest that grows on this damp rock...

I need to make my gains now, while I still hold

the king's trust.

Wealth, my lord,

is the foundation of any temple of power.

We need to fortify our resources.

Steeper taxes and tariffs.

Yes, agreed.

Pardon, Lord Ventris, good Chamberlain.

Baron Pryce's emissary waits for you at the market.

He is... quite eager.

I assume Pryce sends no gifts

with his eager messenger?

Gifts, Baron?

Stuffed pheasant. Aged wine.

A bevy of virgin whores.

Why would he send such?

Ballok cod.

Why does he want an audience?

Oh, yes.

Again, he makes a heated point

of the steep tariff.

Asserts that Baron Pryce

will refuse payment if it grows again.

If Pryce wants access to the sea, he will pay for it.

And if he refuses, then we have cause to assert power.

Into Pryceshire?

But his legions outnumber ours.

Pryce is a man of books.

Thinkers die in battle.

Good Baron.

Chamberlain.

What is our passage for today, Father?

Genesis.

We're learning how God created us in his likeness.

Gave us a perfect world.

Care to join us, Baron?

Yes.

Another time, Father.

And what of our king?

Where will Edward sit in this dispute with you

and Baron Pryce?

Where his soft French bottom always sits...

In the middle,

waiting like a flowered girl to coo the victor.

With a mouth full of noble seed.

Ah, yes. Because he's a bit fancy.

(door creaks)

(cattle moos)

(sheep bleats, horses neigh)

(chickens clucking)

VENTRIS: Tell Pryce's man

the tariff just went up again.

A third?

More than fair.

But, my lord, you... you realize you taunt him

by raising it yet again?

The taunt is the message.

Deliver it.

Yes. Sorry.

Baron. Chamberlain.

Hello, sir.

VENTRIS: Your young brother doubts our methods.

Half my blood.

Quarter the brains.

(chuckles)

ARON: Hey.

Give it here. You carried Da's ax last ride.

Yeah, because you don't have the arm to swing it, puny-kin.

Says you, you fat elf.

(scoffs)

Oh, hey, hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, hey! Get off.

Will you two ever grow up?

You should be whittling me toys, not playing hero, old man.

Whittling is for the lame of mind, motherly daughter.

(chuckles)

Be certain that's not how you return.

TORAN: No need to wear the funeral mask.

I'm not dead yet, wife.

The mask is for me.

You'll be the death of me, you reckless poke.

Hey.

(grunts)

You keep her heavy on the mead while I'm away, boy.

She's bearable that way.

Am I a ghost without ears?

I will, Da. Heaps of it.

(chuckles)

(grunts)

We'll be back before half moon.

Yea.

I'll be here. Twice the cow.

You stay in there.

No catching your mother with a sneakish birth.

Running the laws of nature now, farmer?

WILKIN: Never, dear Eva.

I leave the control of all things earthly to the women.

God keep you safe.

Always.

Hup.

Hup!

*

(arrows whooshing)

(grunts)

(grunting)

(neck snaps)

We meet again, tax man! (screams)

(sobbing): Oh, please. Oh, please.

Spare me still.

(gasping)

Tell your greedy lord,

if he keeps biting like the boar,

we keep laying the traps.

(shouts)

Where's your horse, tax man?!

(laughter)

(men chattering, snickering)

Here.

Yeah, it is true, friend.

I'll own skill of this one day.

I'll make my little wings that vanish on the bark.

I will fly.

Woden has promised me.

(horses approaching)

Ah, my friends return.

(horse neighs)

Yah!

Bag the chattel and furs.

*

(squawking)

(wings flapping)

(horse neighs in distance)

CORBETT: Destiny has met your ambitious young warrior.

Wilkin Brattle will no longer draw favor from the king.

The long blades of the Scots served us well.

An inspired plan, good Marshal.

Send troops for the bodies.

If we bring him back, Constable,

Brattle will be seen as a slain hero

who stood up to an army of Scots.

They will immortalize him.

Perhaps we take comfort

knowing that we serve God's hungry creatures.

Yes.

Feast on, my friends!

King-fed meat!

(both laugh)

*

Forgive me.

DYER: Baron Pryce.

Pardon, my lord.

Your emissary has returned from Ventrishire.

Finish with disbursement, Chamberlain.

Of course.

TRULA: Edwin.

It is much too damp in this room.

Yes, my love.

(coughs)

Take the baroness to the sun room.

(coughing)

Who's next?

Gawain Maddox!

The traveling punisher.

Ah.

(coins clink)

You claimed fairness.

This is half my wage.

DYER: Do you know how many journeymen

pass through this shire every week, hmm?

Blacksmiths, bowmen, even executioners such as yourself.

Many flee the South in search of work.

That doesn't mean we don't deserve our rightful pay.

If you do not find this satisfactory, move on.

Find yourself another shire where you can

peddle your brutal gifts.

Next.

REEVE: Barclay the minstrel.

Ah, the minstrel.

We travel.

But where to, Maddy?

To the sea.

Ventrishire.

Now!

(door opens)

CORBETT: Forgive us, Baron.

My lady.

There's been another attack.

Hooded thieves.

All eight of our men slain.

JONAS: Took us in darkness.

Deadly ghosts.

The same ones? Yes.

Six, in familiar hoods.

There was another this time, deeper in the woods.

Saw a flash of his face.

A young one.

How do you know he was a bandit?

JONAS: He was hooded.

His clothing was different,

all hides and furs, but he was with them.

Uh, a watcher perhaps.

What kind of fur did he wear?

It had sheen... Uh, beaver pelt, I'd say.

Costly vesture for a peasant bandit.

Beavers.

What rivers do they dam?

I'm not sure.

Colder ones, perhaps.

West to the sea.

West.

Gwynedd and the minor turns.

Here.

Branches of the Dunoding run west.

Touch the far end of the shire.

We've got settlers there?

No, I think...

JONAS: Yes.

Yes, we do.

Barley farmers.

West River Riding.

Quarterly collections.

Oh, West River.

Yes, of course.

Half legion and horsemen, my charge.

You ride with us.

Pick out the watcher.

Make sound guesses of the others

without their clever hoods.

CORBETT: You as well, Reeve.

Get to know your shire.

RANDULF: Yes, dear brother.

Baron. My lady.

And what of manor law?

Is there a mind for fairness in your swift purpose?

Of course, my love.

Fair process for every man.

I know your distress is undoubtedly

about the safety of your husband, my lady,

but an ignorant eye may see it

as concern for the welfare of outlaws.

Well, I thank my maker that I'm in the presence

of a man who never leans towards ignorance.

Indeed.

Knowledge is my service.

Indeed.

Perhaps you should share some of that knowledge with my husband.

Let him know that his thirst to grow this shire

should not be quenched

with the sweat and blood of its own people.

It is the people's duty to tithe.

Only rebels

refuse to honor the rule of law.

No commoner wants rebellion.

It only comes after hope and reason are burned to the ground.

Tell me, Baroness.

How is it that someone of your privilege

may come to know the plight of the common man?

Well, unlike some within these walls,

I live with open eyes and open heart.

You will break them, Milus.

And we both know there's nothing more dangerous

than a Welshman who has nothing to lose.

Keep my husband to a safe path.

I'm depending on you, good Chamberlain.

(excited chatter and laughter in distance)

(excited chatter continues)

(cheering)

MAN: Melt it down, and you shall have whatever you like.

(pipe playing)

Our brave hunters approach.

ASH: Midshire hares!

Big enough to mount. (laughs)

We want to skewer them with sticks,

not with our pricks, you beast-lover.

(laughter)

JACOB: Don't listen to him, boy.

We take our comfort wherever we find it.

And what if you find him taking comfort in your pen...

poking your prize hog?

(laughter)

I don't fancy hogs.

(laughter)

That's true. He's a one-sheep man.

(laughter continues)

Why does Wilk use oak and not a blade?

There are many things

we do not know about our leader.

Even Petra knows little of his life

before he came to the river.

ASH: Had to be a soldier.

The fight skill he's given you...

That was learned on a field of battle, not barley.

We've all tales best kept locked in our head.

More of your song.

* Ye talisman give potion...

You should eat.

Yea.

(singing continues in distance)

Ventris will keep doubling his guards.

Yeah, we can't do this alone anymore.

You saw the daffodil hides in the trees.

The Byth Encil rebels would welcome our skill.

I can arrange for a meet, and we can...

I serve God and family, not cause or crown.

Give straight, brother.

You think the gates of heaven will fly open

because you down a man with wood instead of steel?

Perhaps not.

We've both watched men die

by the work of our hands, Wilkin.

In service of gods or king, it doesn't matter.

We're driven by a deeper burn,

and we need to feel that or we wither.

(horses approaching)

Where's your man?!

Where's your right?

(panting)

No farmer here.

Only women

and useless elders.

Where are your men?!

PETRA: They're hunting,

Lord Ventris.

Skins for the next harvest.

In the dark?

Do I seem a fool?

Slit the boy's throat.

No! No! No!

Stop! Stop!

Where are they?

A lie bleeds two throats.

They...

they went to Glen Darby Birch.

With their hoods?

(screams)

Yea! With hoods!

How many?

Seven.

You expect your baron to believe

that a pox-dowed band of farmers

have skill enough to knell our noble ranks?

He should.

His ranks

seem only fit to strike women and children!

(Eva screaming)

(sobbing)

(screaming)

Kill them all.

Burn it to the ground.

PETRA: You devils!

You curs!

They will hunt you down and cut out your stone hearts!

Make this one a sight for deep memory.

Brutal.

Let it strike a pain that cannot be hidden

with insolent hoods.

(screaming) Run, Petra!

(laughs) Fetch her!

(Eva screaming)

My lord, my lord.

This is a breach of law.

Both God and king.

It-it...

This is madness!

Please, my lord. Please.

Relieve our collector of his moral conflict.

(gasping)

(grunting)

(sobbing)

I beg of you. Please!

Find the God you defend.

Have mercy, please.

Not for me, but for the innocent heart

beating inside, please.

Please.

Please.

(praying quietly)

(sobbing)

Run.

And don't ever come back here, not anywhere in this shire.

You'll be sure as dead.

Go!

(sobbing)

*

(screaming)

(screaming)

(blade stabbing)

(groans)

(gasps)

CORBETT: The farmers will see the smoke.

They won't ride into a waiting attack.

I want them alive.

For now.

Let them suffer this.

(panting)

(twig snaps)

(sobbing)

You... you.

What are you...?

Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH

(no audible dialogue)

The Bastard Executioner.

All new, Tuesdays at 10:00 on FX.

[ Man ] The battle has begun.

An evil is spreading.

We must fight to save our civilization.

Fight or die. [ Growling ]

[ Announcer ] The Strain. All-new. Sundays at 10:00.

On FX.

[ Dings ]

[ Sighing ]

- [ Doorbell Rings ] - [ Radio: Chorus ] * Ba-la, la-la-la.

[ Man ] * The sun is shining * Sha-la, la-la-la

* The birds are singing * Sha-la, la-la-la

* It's a beautiful day

* And my love is here to stay

* Sha-la, la-la-la * The sun is shi...

[ Crowd Cheering ] A fantasy league is like a family...

Said no one ever.

I have achieved more than I ever thought possible...

A checking account, unlimited texting.

Win or lose, it's how you play your friends.

Do I have any regrets? Yeah. Tony Romo.

History is not written by the winners. It's written by the cheaters.

My mother always wondered, how low can you go?

Well, Mom, pretty low.

The League. Starts Wednesday, September 9.

Only on FXX.

[ Clears Throat ]

You know, if you lowered me about three feet...