Original subtitles

A NETFLIX ORIGINAL SERIES

PREVIOUSLY

A token of our respect and trust.

That road is indeed important.

For all of us.

You'll be interested to hear we have arrested Jan de Lichte.

That is why your broken body will hang.

No one touches my road.

If it was good enough for Iron, it's good enough for Cross-Eyes.

A deal is a deal.

It's all yours.

And the outlaws?

Back to work. I have expenses.

You have the privilege of wearing a wig.

- Congratulations. - Thank you.

Belleke.

I'll never leave you again.

Thank you, Mr. Baru.

Tincke didn't betray Jan, Meyvis.

No, not Tincke.

Your girlfriend.

Or is it coincidence that she's gone?

Who will be executed?

Jan de Lichte.

He deserves it.

They say Jan tried to escape,

so they hanged him right away.

Open the gates, goddamnit.

Vagenende.

Dear members of the town council...

dear friends,

today we may be satisfied

with a wonderful year.

1 YEAR LATER

A year of great achievements

and inspiration for the future.

The new paved road to Ghent was a triumph

whose fruits we will harvest for years to come.

Imports and exports to and from our little city to Brussels

have increased by 25%.

The stagecoach now takes half the time

to reach Brussels.

Armies visiting our country

will enjoy the excellent state of our new road.

We truly have the best of both worlds.

The end of the prosperity flooding our city...

is not yet in sight.

The fact that crime in our city, and in surrounding villages,

has fallen to an historical low,

is one of the reasons for this.

Goorissen?

One year ago, Commander Baru,

with an organized City Watch and one well-targeted action,

the arrest of the gang leader, Jan de Lichte,

dealt organized crime a fatal blow.

Commander Baru, the floor is yours.

Thank you.

Dear Mister Mayor, members of the council...

The chest, gentlemen,

today holds a total

of 443,621 florins.

There.

Taking into account the costs that must still be paid,

to the States of Flanders

and the indexed war taxes to Lord de Rassinfosse...

All in all, dear sirs,

we are left with a surplus

of no less than 305,597 florins.

Bravo.

Again, a shared effort.

A joint effort.

I couldn't put it better. We must reinvest.

I won't keep you in suspense.

I can now reveal that the project is so grandiose

that it will put our little city on a level

with cities such as Ghent,

Brussels

and Antwerp.

- Oh... - Yes.

We will dig a canal.

We will connect Baasrode with the Scheldt,

which will enable us to take in even more ships.

It will also considerably facilitate

the supply of the French troops.

We will officially announce this news

next Saturday during the Procession of the Holy Blood.

Dean Pycke will leave the church with his Holy procession,

then take our new road to the steps of my castle,

where I invite you to a delicious meal.

The ladies are also welcome.

Mr. Baru, I hope your lovely nieces will come too.

Gentlemen, I have spoken.

Black tar. Good stuff, good price.

What are you selling?

Hey, snotnose. Get that poison out of here.

Tell Cross-Eyes we don't need his stuff.

- What's up, little monster? - Filthy dwarf.

Troublemakers.

Goddamnit. Nasty dwarf.

Didn't you hear her?

She said get out.

- We were just messing around, Shoe. - Hey.

Do you only sell crap or do you have the real thing?

We have white stuff too.

Cross-Eyes has us sell everything.

Go to the Yellow Dick. They need some there.

And if I see or hear

that you haven't been there...

you'll have me to answer to.

Yes, Shoe.

- Yes? - Yes, Shoe.

Bastards.

Come darling, get ready.

I promised Mother we would go to the seamstress

to have your dress for the Blood Procession altered.

I know Mother is piling pressure on your slender shoulders.

She's just impatient.

I'm her only son.

Perhaps it worked this time.

Perhaps.

We must keep trying.

Get dressed.

Ho, ho, ho.

What are you doing?

Showing my breasts. Isn't that the point?

Not so fast, sweetie.

Seduction.

That's what I want to see.

That's what they'll want.

Rising tension.

If you show it all right away, you lose me.

It does nothing for me.

When the men come in later,

I want each of those suckers to think

you're doing it just for him.

And you have to make him wait.

Until he thinks he'll see nothing more,

that it's all a joke,

that it's about the booze here.

He drains his glass, heads for the door

and then...

you show him your goods.

He'll buy another bottle, right away.

Come on. Start over.

Nice.

When do we see the whole thing?

We're not open yet.

We're all very curious.

Cross-Eyes too.

Everyone's saying Tincke's up to something special,

but no one gets to see anything.

You'll have to come tomorrow evening.

Hm?

I'd rather see it now.

You know why I'm here.

- Tell Cross-Eyes... - I already have.

I've said all there is to say.

Now is the time, Tincke,

to show us your goods, as you so neatly put it.

Seduction is all well and good, but you need to bring in cash.

You can have half today.

- Right now? - Yes.

The rest will follow.

Come on, you can see it's going to work.

We trust you completely.

You did that last night, too.

It's nothing.

Have you seen the doctor?

It's just bronchitis.

My apologies, dear parents.

An argument with an outlaw meant that I got held up.

We understand, Nicolai.

It's harder for your mother than for me.

Punctuality is important to her.

H�loise,

welcome.

Come.

Mother.

It won't be hot anymore.

Let them eat, darling.

You heard, they were held up.

We'll soon have no trouble with roaming outlaws.

We'll need them all to dig our canal.

You heard it correctly, Nicolai.

Coffijn pushed it through the council.

The canal is coming.

That's great news.

We must not underestimate the scale and complexity.

A canal is nothing like a road.

I understand, Father.

Nicolai...

only our total commitment

can carry this project through.

But if it works,

we can get out of here.

Out of this hole.

To a real city. Brussels,

or maybe Paris.

You can count on me, Father.

Paris...

Have you been to Paris, my darling?

You could visit your mother.

And speaking of mothers,

still no tickle in your belly?

We're working on it, Mother.

It'll do you good. You'll feel nothing anymore.

Come on.

The sickness?

It went downhill last night.

Go on, beat it.

Damn stuff.

It hasn't worked since he's been gone.

Is it the right recipe?

It doesn't work without Vagenende himself.

Know who else is sick?

Tincke.

It's his own fault.

It's his punishment for leaving us here to rot.

May he rot in that place of his.

He does weird stuff there.

What do you mean, "weird stuff"?

I've sworn not to set foot in the Velvet Monkey again.

Everything's gone to hell here.

What do you think?

You and me. We leave.

You find other work and I look for a respectable job.

There is no work.

Perhaps not here. But elsewhere?

You deserve to be happy.

Everyone here deserves to be happy.

Thank you.

Look at the hero of the Yellow Dick.

You're too good for this world.

If you do it here, you pay.

Is business good?

Better than under the old man.

I knew you'd do better than your father.

Yeah?

How so?

Brains.

Being cross-eyed doesn't mean you're not clearsighted.

They want to dig a canal.

It'll cost more than that road.

You can add a bit on, but don't overdo it.

Make sure you get enough workers.

There's plenty.

They breed like rabbits in the woods.

Hmm.

Know when it's good booze?

No.

When it bores into your liver like a beetle.

One more.

For the canal.

Are you stopping the party on our account?

Gentlemen.

How can I help you?

We're pilgrims.

Followers of the enlightened path, looking for a meal,

a place to lay our heads, a sip to soothe our throats.

It may well be

that the Holy Ghost enlightens your path,

but did he give you a few cents too?

Nothing's for free here.

You have people who hide their faces.

I hate that.

We have money, sir.

And we heard that this path leads to a boob show.

God moves in mysterious ways.

True.

Go ahead.

Look all you like.

Hmm.

God says you can watch, right?

Come on. Get things moving again.

The pilgrims want to see a boob show.

Maestro.

Your empty body...

is ugly to look at,

but we will long hear your voice.

Where you're going will be better than here.

It has to be.

For everyone else, a dead whore. But not for us.

You suffered like an animal. Nobody deserves that.

You'll be here a long time...

with us.

But don't you worry.

Just go.

Don't look back, it's not worth it.

Take her away, before the first clients get here.

You look absolutely lovely.

There.

Just like Madame de Pompadour.

Ravishing.

I'll go and see if our little mongrel is dressed.

Are you happy here, Anne-Marie?

You're right.

I shall enter the castle as a new person.

As a woman held in high regard.

And are you happy with me?

I have everything I dreamed of.

Thanks to you, Mr. Baru.

What I'm about to say is not chaste,

but I have longed for you since the first day I saw you.

I dreamed of you.

To have you living here,

is a dream come true.

Your happiness will be my greatest accomplishment.

I'm already happy.

- A present? - Hmm.

You can wear it tonight.

Tomorrow, Dean Pycke will announce our betrothal.

Should you approve, of course.

Would you help me...

darling?

Of course.

Sorry gentlemen, this is not a good time.

A hair from the head of Saint Catherine of Sienna.

Two toenails from Saint Christopher.

The loincloth of Boniface himself.

And Saint Simon's foreskin.

As you can see, we sell first-rate relics at great prices.

In two hours we hold our annual procession.

Come back tomorrow.

Tomorrow we meet with the Bishop of Bruges.

Another time, then.

Why precisely are you meeting the bishop?

We have brought him some relics from Constantinople.

Which one, if I may be so bold?

Er, that is not for sale.

What is this?

The bishop doesn't want us to...

The Shrine...

of the Holy Blood?

I don't know this.

No one knew it existed, dear sir.

What is inside?

Two drops of Christ's blood from the spear in his side.

The Holy Spear?

As I said, it's not for sale.

It's a present for the Bishop of Castillon.

Name your price.

Name it. Tonight we hold the Holy Procession here.

It's no coincidence that you came here today.

It's a sign from the Lord himself.

I knew, Stanislas,

that the Lord would one day send down His holy compassion.

In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.

Lord, we thank You for leading this man on his path...

H�loise.

H�loise. I don't know what to wear.

I want to radiate power,

a presence that befits my status.

Which would you choose? This one

or this one?

Why not your normal suit?

Our family is right at the head of the procession.

We must give the people something to worship.

Pycke believes his Blood Procession can surpass that of Bruges.

Do not mock.

The way this city is progressing,

we'll soon be up there with the best.

You must dig your canal first.

You'll see.

I know we're running a little late, but maybe...

Nicolai, you're crumpling my dress.

Forgive me.

Tonight then. Promise?

Mother says we must keep trying.

This one.

Mother.

- Mr. Embo? - Yes?

My name is Boudewijn de Kezel.

Can we talk?

I'm going to the service before the Procession of the Blood.

I'm already running late.

It's about your son, Emiel.

He was my corps commander.

Come with me.

"Where two or three

gather in my name,

there am I with them."

In the name of the Father,

the Son,

and the Holy Spirit,

amen.

Dear friends,

welcome to the service

that introduces our annual procession.

It is held, year after year, in private circles.

Before the Holy Procession gets underway outside,

we here inside take the time

to think about

how we have lived this past year.

A year full of highlights.

For our village, for our city,

for our inhabitants, and especially for our parish.

Let us pray.

Everyone grab some potatoes.

Wait, wait.

Thank you all for being here.

It's been a year since Jan's death.

Not a day passes without me thinking of him.

You know we didn't always see eye to eye.

But he was probably the toughest man I ever met.

Before we drink to him, I ask for a moment's silence.

During that time, I want you to think...

about how we have become so weak...

that we can't get along anymore.

And how we can put that right.

Dig in.

Dear parishioners,

allow me to deviate from our usual service.

And with good reason.

As you know, our Procession of the Blood

has always been devoted to our most precious possession:

the cloth that wiped the wounds of the crucified.

But we have recently come into possession

of something much greater.

A relic whose power

and profundity...

goes beyond all our understanding.

A relic that will make our city a place of pilgrimage,

known in far-away lands.

This wonder fell into our lap barely an hour ago.

May I ask

the three pilgrims who brought it to us

stand by me

as we unveil it?

For they are

the true apostles of our fortune.

Did you ever receive an official letter about his death?

No, never.

But the bailiff came and told me

about the murder and...

To think I let him in myself.

He was here.

Here in this room.

His mouth drank my best wine

as his tongue told the worst lies about my son.

Mr. Embo...

Jan didn't want me to do it,

but he begged me

not to bother you with facts

that would do nothing to change his fate or your son's.

But...

The truth is the truth,

Mr. Embo,

and your son wanted you to know...

what really happened.

I have a letter for you.

TO MR. M. EMBO

The blood of our Messiah.

The holy blood

of Jesus Christ our Lord.

The blood that was spilled for our sins.

The holy blood...

that symbolizes the resurrection of the Saviour.

Choke on your own conceit, Pycke.

Go after them.

Guards.

The pilgrims.

Two sols? I said: "Not even for 25."

He was stumped.

It should always be like this, Tincke.

Jan should be here.

He's here tonight.

I feel it.

Perhaps he is.

Perhaps he is.

"I am burdened by the terrifying feeling

that there are two forces within me, tearing me apart.

The Emiel writing this, Father,

would never be able to do what they claim I did.

For I know what I have done.

I'm wasting away under the weight of my deeds.

Forgive me.

Though I fear it is not possible.

The only way to put an end to my bloodlust,

is my death.

I have tried several times to take my own life.

But I cannot do it.

If you read this letter, Father,

which Officer Boudewijn de Kezel will give you personally,

after my death,

it means that Jan de Lichte

has murdered me,

so as to save the lives of innocent third parties.

He must not be blamed for my murder.

Only I am guilty.

I have murdered myself."

Imagine the scene.

A room full of guns,

with a bloody pig's head in the middle.

Everyone's aiming at everyone.

Iron Simon didn't move. He said:

"Surely you don't think...

you can get away with this?"

And that fool Jan...

looked at him...

and said...

Yes, I do.

NEXT TIME

Dean Pycke was slaughtered before our eyes.

Who will be the next victim? You?

Or I?

You're a miracle, Jan de Lichte.

A saint who appears before us.

No man in our lineage has trouble reproducing.

I love anything hard and strong.

Undress.

Are you sure your fianc�e is not deliberately making you lustful?

I saw her get into a coach.

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