All language subtitles for If.I.Were.King.1938.576p.BDRip.x264.FLAC.2.0-OLDFLiX

What? Are you sure?

No. We'll see if it's true first.

Out torches.

Forward.

Hey. Gently there. Gently.

Have a little more respect
for the King's wine.

And we'll drink it to your
health, old fancy-face.

And to the downfall of
His Majesty King Louis the X1.

Well, I'm glad you reminded me.

No, no.

Why give yourself the trouble, Rene?

Why? To help him forget
what we look like.

I don't think he'll remember us.

Will you, sour-breeches?

A little soft in the head,
aren't you, uncle.

You see.

- He's no softer in the head than I am.
- Exactly.

Rene.

It's one thing to borrow a little
of His Majesty's food and wine.

But nothing like that.

We'll hang for it you fool.

So let us hang.

The Watch!

The candle. Hurry.

After him.

There he goes.

He must be somewhere.

Some of you search that way.
The rest follow me.

There he is.

After him.

Good morning, Father.

Now what trouble are you in?

- Well ..
- Don't tell me.

I must know nothing whatever about it.

But you wound me, Father.
You wound me deeply.

I have just returned from the country.

My first thought is naturally
for my foster father.

I fly to your domicile.
And how am I received?

Like a fly in the soup.

In the first place, you
weren't in the country.

Because you couldn't get by the
Burgundian lines without wings.

And if there is one man in
France who has not got wings.

It is you, François.

In second place.

I hear that you were drunk every night
last week in the Fir Cone Tavern.

With a wench who rejoices in the name of ..

'Fat Marge'.

- That isn't true, Father.
- I choose to believe it.

Have you ever shown me
anything but ingratitude?

Brought me anything but misery since
I took you in at the age of six?

That's true, Father.

At seven you were an expert
at breaking windows.

Yes.

At eight, you stole a chicken
from the spit of Master Ledoux.

- A small, thin chicken.
- Don't cloud the issue.

- At eleven you stole a goat.
- Yes.

A fat goat.

And at fourteen.

At fourteen you were carefully avoiding
your classes at the university ..

To spend your days fishing and gambling.

And writing questionable verse.

Yet I took a master's degree.
You can't deny that.

And for what?

So that you could become
the foulest example ..

Of laziness and loose
living that's ever been.

Open in the King's name.

- What have you done?
- Nothing. I just came from the country.

Open I say!

Tell them .. You were sleeping.

- You saw no-one.
- I'll not tell a lie, François.

That's alright. But you don't
have to be chatty either.

Open.

Good morning, Father.

I'm sorry to disturb you but the King's
storehouse has just been robbed.

- The King's storehouse? Robbed?
- Yes.

Ah. By the poor no doubt.

They're so hungry.

And the sight of all those hams
and chickens and cheeses ..

You seem to know a good
deal about this, Father.

I?

I knew nothing at all about
it until you told me.

Nevertheless, one thief was seen to
climb over your wall. Did you see him?

Climbing over my wall?

No. I can truthfully say I did not.

You see, I was here in the kitchen.

You can't see the wall from the kitchen.

Ah, search the house.

Is this your breakfast?

It was my breakfast.

Upstairs. Quick.

After him.

I'll see you again, Father.

Well, now perhaps I may
finish my breakfast in peace.

Eh, Father?

You come with me.

Father.

- But Father, it will soon be daylight.
- Come on.

Now pray, you sinner. Pray.

Well.

Go on. Go on. Play.

Wait here, Milady. I'll dig them
out in a way they'll remember.

I was afraid you'd gone.

- I've never seen you before in my life.
- But you've forgotten. My dreams?

I dreamt of you always.

Each night we'd roam
the starry way together.

Each morning I'd wake
with despair in my heart.

To realise no mortal could be so fair.

Yet here you are.
The loveliest lady this side of heaven.

I find to my shame my dreams
have done you less than justice.

Milady.

Milady, I eat and drink
thinking only of you.

Wherever I look I see you only.

Of course, if I had better
manners I'd keep it to myself.

You see, I have no manners.

- I do indeed.
- But we are as we are.

For what purpose, no-one knows.

Perhaps .. Perhaps I was born to
inhale the perfume of your hair.

And to exhale the music of the ages.

May I .. May I read you a poem?

- No.
- Thank you, Milady.

If I were king.

Love, if I were king.

What tributary nations would I
bring to stoop before your sceptre.

And to swear allegiance to
your lips and eyes and hair.

Beneath your feet what
treasures I would fling.

The stars should be your
pearls upon a string.

- The world a ruby.
- Milady.

The world a ruby for your finger ring.

And you should have the sun and
moon to wear if I were king.

- Like these wild dreams and wilder world.
- Holy joke. Seize that ruffian.

Deep in the woods I hear ..

Milady.

Milady.

Won't you accept this poem?

- Shall we beat him, Milady?
- Yes.

But not too hard. Just lightly.

There he is.

You thought you'd got away, did you?

Aren't you François Villon?

François Villon, Captain.

- At your service.
- Oh.

Is this the man you saw in the storehouse?

I have never laid eyes on him before.

Have I, fancy-face?

Are you sure?

I have an eye like an eagle.

Maybe.

I think we we'll take
him along to make sure.

One moment, Captain.

There must be some mistake.

I saw this gentleman at
his prayers in church.

Good day.

Well.

Let the gentlemen go.

But only for the time being.

Alright. Forward.

Goodbye, sour-breeches.

Now François. Admit.

You feel better for it, don't you?

I do, Father. I do.

You see, my son.

Time spent in church is not wasted.

Indeed not, Father.

She.

She smiled at me.

Smiled?

Katherine.

Good morning, Katherine.

Morning, Noel.

Why didn't you attend me
at mass this morning?

I was on duty all night. I'm just off to
the east gate with reinforcements.

Has there been fighting?

No. The Burgundians won't attack.

Why should they when they know they
can soon starve us into submission.

But are we to wait for that and ..

And do nothing?

The longer we delay the
weaker our people get.

While the Burgundians
grow stronger each day.

Why don't we attack them
and get it over with?

Have we no arms?

Have we no men to fight for us?

Well spoken, Lady Katherine.

Spoken with all the impatience
of youth with its life before it.

And the courage of a woman
who doesn't have to fight.

- Forgive me, Your Majesty.
- Such words are dangerous, cousin.

Suppose one of my generals,
fired by your oratory ..

Rushed out to meet the enemy.

We might all get our throats cut.

Suppose we won the battle.

No.

No. No, my generals never win battles.

No more than my guards protect
me against my own people.

Did you know we had thirteen
outbreaks last night?

Even my private storehouse was robbed.

- Oh, Your Majesty.
- Yes.

Yes. It's all very depressing.

The robbing of my storehouse especially
denotes a sad lack of patriotism.

And a sad lack of food, Your Majesty?

Huh?

Quite so.

Yes. And now my dear I think you
had better run along to the Queen.

Help her with her embroidery or whatever
it is she does with her spare time.

If you're bound for the
east gate, master Noel.

I suggest you get there
before night overtakes you.

Good morning.

D'Aussigny, what brings you here?

I've just come from a meeting with a
delegation from the citizens of Paris.

Well, what do they want now?

They realize the futility of further
resistance to the Burgundians.

And appeal to me as Grand Counsellor of
France to intercede with Your Majesty.

Perhaps they would like me to
abdicate and surrender the city?

They feel by making terms with the enemy
we save new risks to life and property.

Yes.

The citizens of Paris are much concerned
with their lives and their property.

They say such an act by Your Majesty
would assure your sainthood in history.

Huh?

Yes. But ..

My ambitions are a little more modest.

Tell the good committee we
already have one Saint Louis.

Two might cause confusion.
Good morning, my dear D'Aussigny.

Good morning, sire.

Tell me, Oliver.

If you were one of our
beloved rabble that is ..

Cold and hungry.

With no good reason to love your King.

What would you do, eh?

You'd desert to the enemy, would you?

- Never, Sire.
- You think not?

That's because you're
not one of the rabble.

You're under obligations to your
king who has rewarded you well.

For faithful services.

But there are some who have not your
high sense of loyalty, my dear Oliver.

Look at this arrow now.

It came over the walls last
night from the Burgundian camp.

See? A very clever device.

It's a message.

It is written in gibberish.

But the one for whom it was
intended would understand it.

It would be interesting
to know who that one is.

- Eh, Oliver?
- Yes.

Yes.

It must be someone important.

The Burgundians won't trouble to send
a billet-doux to a serving wench.

Then it must be someone with power.

Someone very close to me.

- Am I making you nervous, Oliver?
- No, Sire.

- I know that Your Majesty trusts me.
- Yes.

Yes, Oliver.
I trust you across the room.

And that's farther than
I trust anyone else.

- Well?
- Your Majesty.

The prisoner is most obstinate.

Has he been fully ..

- Persuaded?
- Yes, Your Majesty.

But he still refuses to confess.

A foolish fellow.

Perhaps a little of my persuasive powers
may cause him to change his mind.

Give me that arrow.

Come on. Both of you.

A nasty smell down here.
As if the cook had burnt the roast.

Come now.

Tell me my man.
For whom was this intended?

Come, come. Why bring all
this suffering on yourself?

Better use your tongue while you have it.

- He still has his tongue, has he Tristan?
- Yes, Your Majesty.

Now do be sensible.

After being watched for days
you were seen picking this up.

You plucked it off the ground
and hurried off with it.

You were followed first by one,
then a second and a third.

You took to your heels but they got you.
You'd better speak while you can speak.

Where were you taking it to?

Where? I said where?

Where?

The landlord.

The Fir Cone Tavern.

Mercy.

And for whom was it intended?

Eh?

Well, well, well.

Very interesting.

If true.

Where is this .. This Fir Cone Tavern?

The Fir Cone Tavern, sire?

It is in the court of miracles.

A hell spot.

Frequented by wantons,
cut-throats, beggars, thieves.

The scum of Paris.

Very interesting.

Give him some water. Only a little.

Come along.

Sorry, masters. I have more here now
than I can serve. Try some other tavern.

Oh.

Yes. Of course.

Right this way, gentlemen.
If you please.

Be seated, gentlemen.

Now. What's your pleasure, my master?

- A Demi-flagon of Burgundy.
- Let me have it.

Out of sight, you numbskull.
You want to have us all hanged?

Give me the note and break
that shaft into kindling.

A Demi-flagon of Burgundy.

At once, my masters.

At once.

There is one for the gibbet.

Eh, Tristan?

But who is the other one, Sire?

The traitor.

Patience.

I hesitate to even mention his name.

Until I am quite certain.

- The man confessed it to you.
- But under what persuasion?

Under similar conditions I would have
confessed to the burning of Rome.

Even to playing the fiddle.

Hello, gentlemen.

Get off my lap.

Not until you buy me a drink, birdikins.

Will you kindly remove yourself.

Now, now, pussykins.

Why don't you ignore her?

The wine, gentlemen.

Yes. And bring two big spice steaks.

- Hear, hear.
- And some bread and cheese.

Your change, master.

Why, we can stay drunk for a month on this.

- No, you must give that to ..
- Oh, no you don't.

My generous lover.

Come on.

Ah, Marie.

Hello. All of you.

Food and wine for everybody.

Take this food and wine out of here.
Do you want to ruin my trade?

Not at all, my good Turgis.

You supply the tankards.

Huguette.

So sorry to see you in such bad company.
And you, Colette. With ..

With Father Time himself.

'Oh, Father Time'.

'Lay not thy thrust upon
this budding flower'.

'On bitter seas are passion tossed'.

'Forgive its tiny hour'.

Now Huguette.

'Waste not thy heart upon this ..'

'Juiceless mould'.

'Ere all thy fragrant youth depart'.

'And leave thee useless'.

'Old'.

Isn't that beautiful?

Ha. Who is this cockroach?

That's François Villon the poet.

Ha. A tinker of verses, gentlemen.

No offense.
Poetry is its own worst enemy.

Come. Join me in a bottle of wine.
Fit for a king.

Well.

Here's to King Louis.
May the hide rot in his carcass.

And may the Burgundians
take the city away from him.

Or better still.

May they take him away from the city.

For he who does nothing .. Gets nothing.

And he who dares nothing ..

Deserves nothing.

To King Nothing.

You drink more than is
good for you, my friend.

What can a man do but drink when
France is going to the devil ..

And a nincompoop sits on the throne?

I suppose you can do better?

If you were king?

I don't wish to appear boastful,
brother long-nose.

But I think a child of two could do better.

- Really?
- Really.

Had I been born in a brocaded bed ..

I might have led armies and served France.

As it is, you see me here consorting
with cut-throats and wantons.

And wasting my time on a
dull old buzzard like you.

Well, if it's so easy to be king.

How would you begin?

First, I would eat.

Not common food like this of course.

Something more suited to my station.

Having fortified myself on
hummingbirds and goldfish ..

My next step would be to clean house.

The vermin who infest the palace
I would hang in clusters.

Ah. But you would make
exceptions surely?

That .. That kindly old hermit ..

Isn't his name .. Tristan?

That old murderer? I'd hang him first.

And suspend the others from his toes.

Well now.

Leaving Tristan swinging in the breeze.

What would you do next?

Try to know my subjects.

Try and earn their devotion and
loyalty instead of their loathing.

Hmm. By abolishing taxes, I suppose?

No.

By abolishing despair
and substituting hope.

By knowing the longings in their hearts.

As a man of the people would.

Seeing them as they are.

And admitting their vices are as
deep-rooted as their virtues.

I would treat them as my children.

Instead of as my enemies.

So.

My knowing the worst in them
might bring out the best in them.

You should have been an orator, my friend.

I am an orator.

Thank you. Thank you, my subjects.

Now where is that boar's head?

Ah, my little dove.

What do you prefer?
Brains or the snoot?

François.

What would you do for me if you were king?

For you?

Beneath your feet, what
treasures I would fling.

The stars shall be your
pearls upon a string.

The world ..

The world a ruby for your finger ring.

And you shall have the
sun and the moon to wear.

If I were king.

Would you do that for me?

Huh?

I said.

For who did you write that anyway?
I never heard it.

I don't remember.

You lie like the seven
hounds of hell, you snake.

You wrote it for another wench.

- I swear on my hereditary honor.
- You haven't any hereditary honor.

Oh?

May the Stygian flames
burn my gun to a crisp.

And scatter the ashes in the Styx.

You don't have to get poetic.

You're a dirty liar and I can
tell it by the look in your eye.

You're a two-faced
double-dealing, deceiving brute.

And I only wish I could
think of something to ..

Here, clown. For your rhymes.

Oh my.

Thank you, Milady.
That's more than I usually get.

I suppose you're going to keep it, you dog.

François.

François.

You must go. Hurry. They came back.

Who? The Watch?

Yes. The guard at the
storehouse betrayed you.

- Thy tortured him.
- I told you you'd hang us all.

The minute they left I hurried here on
the chance of finding and warning you.

And they followed you.

We've done nothing wrong
here, Milord Constable.

We obey the laws.
We pay His Majesty's taxes.

You see? It's all receipted, Milord.

You have but to glance at it.

Don't you think it rather odd ..

That my Grand Constable
should come here himself?

You mean, that he ...?

I'll take this with me
and examine it later.

Do you have a rogue here named Villon?

There he is, Milord.

François, don't let them take you.

Down with the King.

Order! In the King's name.

Drop your arms. All of you.

Milord.

A pretty night's work, Master Villon.

Hello? Lafarge.

So it was you my dear D'Aussigny.

- Take him out and hang him.
- No.

One moment, young man.

Who are you to interfere
with the King's justice?

I am the King's justice.

You. Your Majesty.

Long live the King.

Greetings to you my loyal subjects.

And especially to you.

Master philosopher.

Kneel, François.

The King.

I'm afraid it's a little
late for etiquette.

Quite so.

Captain.

Arrest the leaders and take
them to the palace dungeon.

I knew there was something wrong
the minute I sat in his lap.

I suspected him.

Well, if you suspected him why
didn't you say something about it?

Ah well. It doesn't matter anymore.

Why did you have to insult him?
Why couldn't you keep your mouth shut?

Yes. And you were going
to hang everybody.

- Upside down.
- You leave him alone.

Can't you see he is writing poetry.

A fine time to be writing poetry.

What time could be finer?

If a man isn't inspired by his own
death he is beyond inspiration.

Now. Here is our epitaph.

Epitaph? What's that?

Usually, something good about somebody bad.

After they are dead.

Oh.

'Oh brother men who after us shall live'.

'Let not your hearts be
hardened to our fate'.

'For if some pity to ourselves he gives'.

'Then shall yourselves
the warmer mercy rate'.

'You see us here'.

'Five, six. Strung up in state'.

'Once, good-lived flesh that
throbbed with blood and wine'.

'And now'.

'The stench'.

'Where worms and maggots dine'.

'While we, the bones'.

'In mouldy ashes fall'.

'Let no-one laugh at our absurd design'.

'But pray to God that he forgives us all'.

François Villon.

François.

François, don't leave me.

I'm afraid I must.

But I will come back.
I always come back.

But this time you won't.

We'll meet again. Sometime, somewhere.

I promise.

Now.

Now smile.

I want to remember you that way.
Come on. Smile.

Then say something funny.

Funny?

Here goes François. Child of France.

To swing into his final dance.

His neck at last shall have the chance.

To weight the tonnage of his pants.

Good morning.

You may leave us.

I suppose you're wondering
what I'm going to do with you.

Your Majesty isn't the imaginative type.
I can almost guess.

Don't you feel that's rather a dangerous
tone to use under the circumstances?

What danger is there .. Beyond hanging?

What indeed.

Compared with other choicer forms of
amusement, hanging becomes a pleasure.

Hmm? I could have you boiled in oil.

Or sliced or drawn and quartered and
tortures that for the moment escape me.

I beg Your Majesty's pardon.

You should.

Especially as I'm not
going to hang you yet.

- Your Majesty.
- Now. Don't get emotional.

I am nothing if not a 'just' man.

Last night you did me a slight favor
by ridding me of my chief traitor.

Quite unintentionally, my friend.

Nevertheless, you shall have your reward.

- Your Majesty will not know my gratitude.
- No. I probably won't.

On the other hand you
did insult me publicly.

You did make revolutionary speeches.

Naming yourself as my successor.

And you did rob my private storehouse
and eat the loot right under my nose.

I didn't know it was Your Majesty's nose.

But you knew it was my storehouse.

You topped off the evening ..

By assassinating my Grand
Constable in cold blood.

Yes.

Yes. This places us on
the horns of a dilemma.

Your Majesty admitted he was a traitor.

Even so, he was my Grand Constable.
So don't split hairs.

- But he started the fight.
- And you finished it.

Leaving me to punish you and
reward you for the same deed.

Something which would have
puzzled King Solomon himself.

Of course you might hang me at one
end and pin a medal on the other.

Huh?

A greater king would hang you out of hand.

A lesser king would forgive you.

I probably fall somewhere between the two.

And this is my decision.

Since you have deprived me of the
services of my Grand Constable.

Don't interrupt me.

Since you think it so easy to rule these
carrion who call themselves my subjects.

I hereby appoint you Grand Constable
of France and Brittany.

Grand .. Constable?

Defender of my crown.
Commander-in-Chief of my armies.

And dispenser of justice.
High, middle and low.

- Is this a jest?
- Not at all.

Heretofore, I selected Grand Constables
from the noble families of France.

And they've all proved themselves
either traitors or cowards.

This time I'm appointing
one from the people.

It is true you came from
the gutter, my friend.

But you have a certain
native sense of loyalty.

Of courage and common knowledge.

At least, it will prove an
interesting experiment.

And of course you need a title
to go with it. Get on your knees.

I suppose this will have to do.

Get down. Go on. Go on.

François.

I dub thee Count de Montcorbier.

Hereditary Knight of the Golden Buckle.

Yes. And now I think you need a bath.

Show the Count de Montcorbier to his rooms.

This way, Milord.

Your Majesty.

My Lord Grand Constable.

Milord Tristan.

Your Majesty.

My Lord Tristan.
What is all this I hear?

D'Aussigny murdered?

- Yes, Your Majesty.
- How horrible.

Yes, Your Majesty. But what does it
matter since he was proven a traitor?

Nevertheless, a very highborn traitor.

I cannot understand His Majesty taking
such risks to bring about his downfall.

When he could so easily have disposed
of him with a cup of poisoned wine.

I quite agree, Your Majesty.

And the scoundrel that murdered him.

Who was he?

A cut-throat of the first
order, Your Majesty.

A flea-bitten poet named ..

François Villon.

François Villon?

What is it, my child?

He's the one I told you
about, Your Majesty.

The one who accosted me at the church.

Ah, the scoundrel.

Hanging is too good for him.

- I shall implore ..
- I beg of Your Majesty not to ..

The poor fellow is in
enough trouble as it is.

If Your Majesty will permit.

The purpose of my visit is to inform you.

That His Majesty requests your immediate
attendance in the throne room.

To meet with the new Grand Constable.

The new Grand Constable?

Who is he?

The Count de Montcorbier.

Your Majesty.

If I may say so,
Your Excellency is greatly improved.

Thank you, Oliver.

I'm glad you think so.
I feel as slippery as a worm.

And your quarters, Your Excellency? I
trust Your Excellency approves of them.

My Excellency approves.
Very nice. Very nice.

I suppose I have larger rooms
for more formal occasions.

Of course, Your Excellency.

You have your state chambers,
your private trial room.

Your personal torture chamber.

- And your ..
- That is enough.

Now .. What do I do?

'Do', Your Excellency?

You govern.

You govern France.

Oh yes. Of course. I govern.

Do you spell 'de Montcorbier'
with a small or capital 'D'?

Small.

Milord.

Now. We had better
start at the beginning.

We're still besieged by
the Burgundians I believe.

The last reports said we
were, Your Excellency.

Well, that takes care of that. Now ..

The food situation.

Ah, we have enough for six months.

Well, that seems to take care of that.

- Who has enough for six months?
- The palace and the army, Milord.

And what about the people?

The people?

Oh, you mean .. The people?

Yes. That is who I mean.

The people are hardly
a military factor, Milord.

No. Of course not.

Now tell me, my friend. How does
a Grand Constable fill up his day?

First he inspects the guard.

Reports to His Majesty.
Attends levies.

And tries all prisoners
both civil and military.

Prisoners?

Have we no prisoners today?

Only those arrested last night at the
Fir Cone Tavern, Your Excellency.

- What? Are they still here?
- Of course.

- And I'm expected to try them?
- Of course.

Ha-ha.

When?

At your convenience. There's no hurry.

No hurry?

If you had been shut up in a slimy dungeon.

Fearful and hopeless.
Thinking each moment your last.

You would know whether
there was any hurry or not.

I ..

I meant no offense, Your Excellency.

No. Of course not. You ..

Your worst offense is surely ignorance.

- Let's try the prisoners immediately.
- Yes, Milord. This way, Milord.

- This way.
- Milord.

His Majesty's compliments.

And will you attend him in the
throne room to meet the court.

My compliments to His Majesty.

- But I have prisoners to try immediately.
- But, Milord.

I hardly think His Majesty
will enjoy being kept waiting.

Neither would the prisoners.

Come on, Oliver.

But, Milord.

Yes. Yes, he comes from Nancy.

But if Mr Montcorbier comes
from Nancy, Your Majesty.

How did he get through
the Burgundian lines?

Well, there is such a thing
as a Flag of Truce, my dear.

A Flag of Truce?

- Oh, but of course.
- Yes.

Well.

Well, well, well.

Your Majesty. My Lords and Ladies.

The court will remain assembled.
Come along.

Milord.

Your Excellency.

The prisoners before you.

Are charged with violating the curfew.

Assault and battery.

Suspicion of conspiracy.

Suspicion in having participated in
the robbery of the King's storehouse.

Receiving stolen goods.

And showing armed resistance.

To arrest.

Give me their names.

Robin Turgis.

Yes, Your Majesty?

I didn't have anything to do with it.

All I did was receive a paper from
one man and give it to another man.

And I hadn't the slightest idea it had
anything to do with the enemy.

So help me.

And yet your received a hundred gold
pieces for each transaction I believe.

That is a lie, Your Dignity.
All I got was ten.

If anybody got a hundred
pieces it wasn't me.

All I got was ten.

I only did it five times.

I've got fifty pieces here to prove it.

Because I wouldn't touch the filthy money.

Robin Turgis.

You are a thief.

A receiver of stolen goods.

A conspirator.

And worst of all.

You water your wine.

But Milord ..

Silence!

If I had it within my power I would
have you hanged and strangled.

Roasted over a slow fire.

And boiled in your own diluted wine.

However.

His Sovereign Majesty.

Louis X1.

Defender of the faith and
champion of the people.

Has decided on a new
policy of extreme mercy.

So.

I am reluctantly constrained to fine you ..

Oh .. Fifty gold pieces.

Which you will pay to the
Captain of the Watch.

Does .. Does that mean ..

That I am free?

It means you're entirely free.

Now get out.

Free.

Long live the king.

Long live the king.

Long live the king.

Long live the king.

Next. We have.

Rene de Montigny.

Guy Tabarie.

Colin De Cayeulx.

Casin Cholet.

Jehan LeLoup.

As fine a bunch of rascals
as I've ever seen.

Are you guilty or not-guilty?

There must be some mistake.

- Not guilty, Your Honor.
- I was home in bed.

- I'm only a poor locksmith.
- And I studied for the cloth.

Silence.

Rene De Montigny.

You were seen leaving the storehouse in
company with the gentleman on your left.

And that arch-rogue ..

François Villon.

That's a lie, Your Honor.

Villon was with me all the time
the storehouse was being robbed.

Oh.

How did you know the
storehouse was being robbed?

You just said so. Didn't he say so?

I don't know anything about it.
I was home in bed.

Ladies, ladies.

You must not disrupt the
dignity of this court.

Silence.

Now.

Rene De Montigny.

Did you rob the King's
storehouse or didn't you?

Storehouse?

I didn't even know he had a storehouse.

- Neither did I.
- I'm just a poor but honest locksmith.

And I was home in bed.

So was I.

We were all in bed.

It's become more and more evident that
a grave injustice has been committed.

Since you were all home in bed.

You can't possibly have robbed
His Majesty's storehouse.

Probably, this Villon
did it all by himself.

That's a lie.

He was with me I tell you.

I won't ask you where.

Now.

If you will let me finish
what I was saying.

Since it's apparent you are all innocent ..

And have in consequence
suffered false imprisonment.

I'm unfortunately obliged
to award you damages.

Much as it pains me.

I decree that you shall each
receive seven gold pieces.

The Captain of the Watch has
in his charge fifty gold pieces.

Seven times seven being ..

Forty-nine.

There will be one piece left over which
you will give to the poor, Captain.

Without failure, Excellency.

Long live the king.

Long live the king.

Long live the king!

Silence.

I echo your sentiments
regarding the life of the king.

But do not be deceived.

His Majesty is not hoodwinked.

If he forgives you in this instance.

It's because he knows also
that you were hungry.

And he hopes that his
kindness towards you ..

Will breed a little decency
in your own hearts.

Which I doubt.

Now.

Get out.

Long live the king.

Could I ask a question, Milord?

- No you may not.
- Just one moment, Captain.

You may go.

Milord.

What is it, my child?

Could you tell me if Villon is safe?

At the present time, yes.

Thank heaven and God bless His Majesty.

Amen to that.

Why are you so interested in this rascal?

Because I love him.

But he's a dog if there ever there was one.

But I love him.

- He doesn't deserve it.
- I know that.

Your name is Huguette, isn't it?

Yes, Your Honor.

Villon spoke to me about you.

He said you might ask about
him and if you did ..

To tell you he doesn't
deserve your affection.

And to give you this ring.

Isn't he wonderful.

Thank you, Milord.

I wonder who he stole it from.

Will they free him too?

Oh, probably.

Thank you Milord, for all your kindness.

Good morning, My Lord.

Tristan, how do you like
my new magnanimity?

I think Your Majesty will live
to regret the whole joke.

The trouble with you Tristan is
you have no sense of humor.

You're looking at a new Louis, Tristan.

You have just seen my new method
of dealing with habitual criminals.

We don't hang them.

We cover them with gold.

And now, my dear Lord Constable.

Would you deign to meet
my Queen and my Court ..

Before they collapse from utter exhaustion?

Your Majesty.

My Lord Grand Constable.

His Majesty the King.

My dear.

This is the Count de Montcorbier.

My Lord.

I can't see him very well.
What does he look like?

My Lord.

My Lord D'Asteurbine.

- The Provost Marshall of Paris.
- My Lord.

Monsignor De Grigney.

And the Count Conflere.

General Barbezier.

Genera Dudon. General Saliere.

The Count de Montcorbier.

I was saying Your Majesty that I'm not
familiar with the name 'de Montcorbier'.

Though heraldry is my dearest hobby.

Well, I can't say the same for
the name of Dudon, General.

Ever since you won the battle of Montlhéry.

I have watched your success
with increasing enthusiasm.

But I ..

I did not win the battle of Montlhéry.

Oh yes. Of course. You lost it. Yes.

But there was the siege of Liege.

We lost that one too, my dear Count.

I'm so sorry.

Come along. Come along.

We must talk about your battles
some other time, General.

Duchess De Longée.

Vicomte de Grachiria. Senator of Paris.
The Count de Mont ..

You must think this rude
of me but my name is ..

De Montcorbier.

Silly, isn't it? I looked at you
and I nearly forgot my name.

No doubt Your Lordship has many
important things on his mind.

No. I have nothing on my mind at all.

You just affect me that way.
I had no idea that you ..

That I ..

Do you live here?

I'm one of Her Majesty's ladies-in-waiting.

What a fortunate queen.

You know, the moment I set eyes
on you I said to myself ..

There is all the beauty in the universe.

Past, present and future.

Personified and embodied
in this exquisite creature.

Milord.

What is it?

What is what, Milord?

The name of all this loveliness.

Milord.

My name is ..

Katherine DeVaucelles.

What a beautiful name.

Your Majesty.

A Herald from the Duke of Burgundy has
entered the city under a Flag of Truce.

He demands an audience.

Admit the Herald of Burgundy.

Your Majesty.

If the terms of surrender
are at all reasonable ..

- I should be very tempted to accept.
- Would you?

The army is extremely
unsettled, Your Majesty.

- Desertions every day, Your Majesty.
- Thank you.

I shall remember what you have said.

Herald of Burgundy.

You have something to say, Sir Herald?

I have, Your Majesty.

Then say it, my friend.

In the name of the Duke of
Burgundy and his allies.

Assembled in overwhelming forces
outside the walls of Paris.

I hereby summon you.

Louis of France.

To surrender this city unconditionally.

And to throw yourself in confidence ..

Upon my master's mercy.

And if I refuse, Sir Herald?

For the city: Famine until the end.

Then fire and the sword.

For yourself.

No hope of pardon.

And if I surrender the city?

For yourself and your court.

An honorable retreat to
the Duchy of Epignée.

You mean a dishonorable retreat.

Who are you?

The Count de Montcorbier.

Knight of the Golden Buckle.

Grand Constable of France.
Chief of the armies.

Dispenser of all justice.
High, middle and low.

No, no. Don't bother to look around.

I.

I'm replacing the traitor who
was in your master's employ.

Nah.

And don't make any more
movements like that.

Or I will have you hanged.

And sent back to your master in a bag.

You have bad manners, my friend.

And you rate yourself too highly.

You are not the envoy of a conquering hero.

But the servant of a group
of shabby little vassals.

Rebellious serfs of a noble lord.

Now.

Go back and tell them this.

Kings are great in the
eyes of their people.

But the people are great
in the eyes of God.

And it is the people of France
who are speaking to you now.

We are well armed and provisioned.

We are warm and comfortable
behind our strong walls.

We laugh at your threats.

But.

If we who eat were starved.

If we who drink were dry.

If we who are warm were frozen.

Our answer would still be the same.

Ha. We laugh at you.

We, the people.

And the King.

And this is your answer?

No.

No. Not all.

We give you one week
to disband and get out.

If at the end of the week you still
clutter up the outskirts of our city.

We will attack and destroy
you to the last man.

Now.

We don't wish to be annoyed further.

But.

But Your Majesty.

You heard My Lord Grand Constable.

Get out.

Yes.

There's nothing else you can do.

Get out.

But what do you think, Milord?

Will the Burgundians retreat or ..

Or will they stay and be slaughtered?

I'm afraid they will stay
and be slaughtered.

You will attack at dawn
or during the night?

Which would you prefer?

I should think ..

You make fun of me.

My lady, I'm smiling because
my heart is singing.

And because I love
your faith in the French.

We will attack at dawn or
dusk or noon or midnight.

- And we will win.
- How well you talk.

Yes. I only hope I can
fight half as well.

But you may be killed.

Not if I can help it.

What a glorious death.

To die for France.

Yes. It's better than
some I can think of.

But death in any form should
be avoided if possible.

Will you wear my kerchief in the battle?

Aren't you afraid it may take
my mind off the fighting?

Milord.

Milord.

The generals are assembled
in the council chamber.

- I will attend at once.
- Very well.

Generals? Council chamber?

I have called a council of war.

A council of war?

- So we'll know soon when you will attack.
- Very soon.

- Will you bring me the plans?
- Of course.

But where shall I find you?

- I will wait here.
- Here?

- It might take long.
- I wouldn't mind.

You might catch cold.

Haven't you some little corner
you can call your own?

Out of the draft.

You might find me behind
the fourth door on the left.

On the third floor of the new east wing.

It is engraved on my
brain in letters of fire.

It's an insult Your Majesty to be asked
to discuss this matter with such a man.

I agree with General Dudon.

- It's all a waste of time, Your Majesty.
- He knows nothing of the situation.

It's out of the question ..

Your Majesty.

My Lords.

We were just discussing your
plans to attack the Burgundians.

Pah.

A very interesting opinion, General.
But it leaves me in the dark.

- I think the General meant to convey ..
- That's ridiculous.

Absurd.

Even if I commanded my soldiers
to attack they wouldn't fight.

The foundation of strategy is to surround.

You can't fight from the inside out.

- Even Caesar ..
- May I suggest ..

Then let us surround them.

And how can we surround them?

- How can an egg surround its shell?
- That raises an interesting ..

It's preposterous.

Why can't we break through their lines?

Because they won't leave
them for us to break through.

They'll retreat and pin us
against the walls of Paris.

It's apparent General you
have an answer to everything.

It's apparent you have no
knowledge of military manoeuvres.

Yes, General. I studied yours
and learnt nothing from them.

Sir.

The wonder is you chose the sword
but care so little for fighting.

If you'd care for a
sample of my fighting ..

Aren't you afraid general
that I might surround you?

Gentlemen. Gentlemen.

This isn't helping us with the Burgundians.

My Lord Constable.

What are your orders?

That we attack within the week.

What do you say to that, General?

Even if I commanded such a
thing my soldiers would rebel.

Because it's ridiculous,
asinine, imbecilic and ..

Insane.

There's your answer, my Lord Constable.

I order you to attack within the week.

And I refuse.

Your Majesty.

Have I your permission
to re-join my command?

What?

Yes. Yes, my General.

Your supper, Milady.

Thank you, Anna.

You may go to bed.

Will there be anything else, Milady?

No thank you, Anna. Goodnight.

Goodnight, Milady.

- In that way I'm sure we would succeed.
- But my dear Count.

Without the support of General Dudon who
was quite adamant against your plan ..

It would be useless for us
to attempt what you suggest.

But, my dear General. If I ..

What are you talking about?

- Your Majesty.
- Your Majesty.

Have we your permission
to re-join our commands?

Yes.

You may, Generals.

Milord.

It's not quite as easy
as you thought, is it.

- Your Majesty, if you give me time ..
- Ah yes.

But you haven't much time.
Have you, my dear Count?

I don't quite understand, Your Majesty.

Didn't I tell you?

No. I suppose I didn't.

Well now, let me see.

You freed eight prisoners
from the Fir Cone Tavern.

And gave each of them a small present, eh?

Yes, Your Majesty.

What did you do about the ninth prisoner?

There were only eight.

Only eight?

Now, I could have sworn
that there were nine.

Tristan.

How many prisoners were taken
from the Fir Cone Tavern?

Nine, Your Majesty.

Nine, yes. But that would include ..

That is right. Villon.

François Villon.

That rogue is always raising
his ugly head, isn't he.

I still don't understand, Your Majesty.

Yet I believe I speak perfectly
plainly, my dear Count.

I'm asking you what sentence you will
pass on a ruffian who resisted arrest ..

And murdered one of my
officers while doing so.

What would you suggest?

Boiling him in oil or
breaking him on the wheel?

Nothing so melodramatic, my dear Count.

As I have said before.

This Villon rendered us a slight service.

Which we are repaying.

With a week of exalted splendour.

- A week?
- A week exactly.

And at the end of that week.

I shall expect you to build me an
extra fine gibbet and from it ..

Hang master Villon.

Yes.

You know.

For a few hours Your Majesty had
me almost disappointed in him.

I'm glad that your faith
in me was sustained.

My dear Villon.

- Goodnight.
- Goodnight.

Oh yes.

- Your Majesty.
- Oh yes.

My Lord Grand Constable.

But Your Majesty, what if he escapes?

He won't escape.
I have taken care of that.

Did you see his face?

Milord.

Were you intending to leave the palace?

I was thinking of taking
the air before retiring.

But His Majesty doesn't want anyone
to leave the palace at night.

Only with an armed escort.

Yes. Yes, of course.
Now that's a wise precaution.

In that case, I'll take the
air in the battlement.

- Goodnight.
- Goodnight.

Oliver, after him. You too, Tristan.

Quick. Quick.

There you are.

I was afraid you had forgotten.

Shush.

How could I?

What is it, Milord?

I was just making sure the
palace was well guarded.

It is.

Now you must forget your duties.

Come.

Sit down.

Thank you.

- I had some food brought.
- I'm not hungry, thank you.

You're not comfortable.

Let me put a cushion behind you.

Now.

When do we attack?

- Well, we don't.
- We don't?

It seems you can't fight from
the inside out or the outside in.

Or anywhere in fact if you
are afraid of the enemy.

The generals were very firm about that.

Scurvy cowards.

- Why didn't you terminate their commands?
- Too many of them.

More than I could replace
to attack in a week.

- Then attack in two weeks.
- His Majesty only gave me one.

How can he expect you to do in a week
what others haven't done in a year?

Because I said I could.

I said it was easy.

His Majesty is proving to me that it isn't.

It's a pity.

Because I think now I would be quite
ready to give my life to save the city.

And to make you proud of me.

Oh, My Lord.

I'm so sorry.

I had visions of the city free again.

Food coming through the gates.

And travellers from far off places.

Hunts in the forest at Fontainebleau.

And I wanted you to take me
on a picnic in the spring.

I might not have been able to anyway.

Why not?

Oh, the spring is some time off.

And time does strange
things to people, doesn't it.

'I wonder'.

'I wonder in what misty isle the
voice of Sappho thrills the air'.

'In what green valley of the Nile ..'

'Does Cleopatra still despair for Anthony'?

'The debonair'.

'The wind has blown them all away'.

'The good. The bad'.

'The foul or the fair'.

'Where are the snows of yesterday'?

Who wrote that?

Oh, a person of no importance.

Who is to be hanged.

What a pity.

You shouldn't feel too sorry for him.

Such wretches are born and
live in the shadow of the gibbet.

The starved and tortured.

The slightest wrong they commit
is punishable by hanging.

So. When at last they do hang
they have always expected it.

Aren't we lucky we're not in their shoes.

Yes. It's nice, isn't it.

The poor starving people.

They'd fight soon enough if they hadn't
so much food to stuff themselves with.

Who?

The generals. The army.

Big, fat pigs.

That's it.

- Of course. That's it.
- What?

Sure they'd fight.

If their stomachs flap against their
backs they'll fight soon enough.

Why should they fight with six
month's food in the storehouses?

The bloated bourgeois.

But when that's taken away from them ..

Oh, what a brain.

You gorgeous heaven-sent
dream of loveliness.

Just think.

Tomorrow will be a happy day for the
hungry and a busy day for storehouses.

Meaning?

I mean I'll open every storehouse
and give away all the food.

Wonderful.

And now I must leave you before I
ruin your reputation completely.

My reputation doesn't seem to
have bothered you up to now.

Since knowing you better.

I respect you even more.

Dare I kiss your hand?

As you have already kissed me ..

On the lips.

I think you're becoming a little formal.

Did I really?

I thought I was dreaming.

Katherine.

I ..

Goodnight.

He.

- He never knew he was being followed?
- He hadn't any suspicion of it.

- Did you order the gibbet?
- Bright and early, Your Majesty.

Of the stoutest oak and masterfully joined.

Be careful he doesn't hang you on it
before you get a chance to hang him.

Your Majesty.

- What is it? What is it?
- He has gone.

- Who has gone?
- The Grand Constable.

What? Why didn't the
palace guards stop him?

Your Majesty.
He took the guard with him.

He took the ...?

Tristan. My clothes.

In the King's name.

'Being duly apprised'.

'Of some shortage of food in
certain sections of our city'.

'I hereby command the
keepers of my storehouses ..'

'To relieve the condition'.

'By the immediate distribution
of whatever stores are necessary ..'

'For the relief and comfort ..'

'Of my beloved people'.

Signed.

Signed.

'King Louis the Eleventh.
Defender of the faith'.

Forward guards.

- But Lord Constable ..
- Silence.

This is an emergency.
People are starving.

Do as I say or I hang you by one of your
meat hooks, before you can say Louis X1.

Food.

Food.

But Milord. I'll never
be able to get in there.

Well then, for all of us we're
opening all the storehouses.

Ah.

Here is my breakfast at last.

- Where are my eggs?
- There aren't any eggs, Your Majesty.

- What do you mean?
- His Majesty has given them all away.

What do you mean, 'given them all away'?

To the people, Your Majesty.

That's what the steward said when
he came back from the storehouse.

We tried every one but it
was always the same thing.

His Majesty has given everything away.

But this is ridiculous.

Not His Majesty?

I can't believe it.

Katherine.

Go immediately to His Majesty and
inform him of what has happened.

And tell him I must have
eggs for my breakfast.

I don't care where he gets them.

Yes, Your Majesty.

Fish.

From the moat I suppose?

Actually Your Majesty,
there's no hope of victory.

You are very comforting, my friends.

Well, what is it? What is it?

The Lady Katherine with an important
message from Her Majesty.

I am sorry to disturb Your Majesty.

But Her Majesty wishes me to inform you ..

That she would like some
eggs for her breakfast.

Well.

Would not the kitchen
be a good place to try?

She did, Your Majesty.
And there weren't any.

Really, Katherine.

I don't want to appear rude or criticise
your mistress but I'm busy this morning.

I don't know anything about
eggs or where they keep them.

But, I believe, usually in storehouses.

Well, the steward reports he
went to all the storehouses.

And there weren't any eggs.

That's ridiculous.
I have hundreds of eggs.

Now be a good girl and run along and
take your troubles to someone else.

I'm supposed to be the King, not the chef.

Yes, Your Majesty.

Eggs.

Eggs.

What's that? What is it?

Tristan, what's all that
babble about up there?

I trust Your Majesty's sense of humor
is functioning well this morning.

What are you talking about?

Your Grand Constable has
opened the storehouses ..

And given away all the
food to the populace.

All?

To the last bean.

I trust Your Majesty is well amused.

How much food have we here in the palace?

How much food have we here in the palace?

There is sufficient for perhaps
five days, Your Majesty.

Five days?

Be careful, Milord. His Majesty knows.

Of course he knows.

That's what we intended.

Now forgive me for a few moments.

- I tried to warn Your Majesty.
- Five days.

You see? I ..

Good morning.

Am I intruding?

If so I can easily pay my respects later.

Oh no. I believe we were
just discussing you.

Well, how nice.

Your Majesty will be glad to hear your
goodwill mission is a complete success.

My goodwill mission?

I presume you refer to the
giving away of all my food.

Exactly.

It would warm Your Majesty's heart
to see how gratefully it is received.

No doubt. No doubt.

Permit me to ask you one simple question.

What do you propose to do
when all Paris is starving?

But, Your Majesty.
France is full of food.

The country outside is groaning with grain.

Mountains of flour. Mildew in the mill.

The pigs beseech you to
accept their fattest hams.

All we have to do is to go and get them.

And to do so I suppose you suggest
we fly over the Burgundian lines?

No. Not at all, Your Majesty.

We can fight through them.

Don't you think so, Generals?

Your Majesty's ears must have burned.

Never have I heard such lovely
things said about a living monarch.

Everywhere it was:
'God bless our gracious Louis'.

And 'Long live the King'.

Long live the King.

You know.

There is something about all
this I don't quite understand.

What's hard to understand?

The people have no food
so the king gives it to them.

I say, long live the king.

Yeah.

Why does Louis worry about us?

He never did it before.

There is only one thing to it.

They're fattening us for the kill.

They expect attacks from the Burgundians
and they're trying to buy our help.

Well, why shouldn't we help?
This is our city and Louis is our King.

- What did he ever do for you?
- Well, he sent us all his food.

That's it. You see, it is a trick.

Trying to buy your loyalty
through your stomach.

Well, when the Burgundians
are fighting the Parisians.

And the Parisians are
fighting the Burgundians.

I know what I'll be doing.

Yes. You'll be hiding in a cellar.

My child.

Good evening, Father.

Weren't you with François
Villon when he was arrested?

I was, Father.

I heard you and the others were released.

But what about François?

He wasn't with us.

- Then the worst has happened.
- Oh no, Father.

The Grand Constable himself
told me he was alright.

I wish I could believe that.

But you can.

The new Grand Constable
is a very kindly man.

He must be.

Without him all these people
would still be without food.

Yes. And look at them.

Gorging themselves today
and starving again tomorrow.

Well, it's happened.

Tonight His Majesty had his last meal.

Now they will have to fight.

What do you mean?

Or glorious army has
determined not to fight.

Neither cold nor starvation,
insults or abuse ..

Will swerve them from that noble impasse.

Then we have failed?

And my week ends tonight.

Is that why you avoided me all week?

No.

No. I was busy.

At the walls. Trying to ..

Why?

Katherine.

Have you ever asked yourself ..

Where the Count de Montcorbier came from?

Did it ever occur to you that perhaps ..

He came from the court of miracles?

Milord.

For a minute you had me
thinking you were serious.

Katherine.

I am François Villon.

François Villon?

The gutter poet.

Companion of the finest company
of cut-throats and rogues ..

Thieves and murderers
that France can boast of.

But.

Why did you do this to me?

I never intended to.

It started as the jest of a king.

And then.

I loved you.

Love?

With all the meaning that the
word can have in paradise.

Love?

I could not give you any
godlier thing if I were king.

Please go.

Please.

Our commands are completely
demoralised, Your Majesty.

Not a man will obey his officer.

- They refuse to man the walls.
- Have them hanged.

But who's to hang them, Your Majesty?

They won't man the walls until they
are fed. The west gate is unprotected.

- But we have no food to give them.
- Your Majesty might pacify them ..

With some sort of entertainment.

Such as perhaps immediately hanging the
noble Lord who gave away their food.

An excellent idea, Milord.

- What is it, Father?
- I must see His Majesty.

Or the Grand Constable.

I'm sorry Father but that's impossible.

I tell you I must. I have urgent news.

Wait.

- What is it, Father?
- Milord.

It's very urgent that I see His Majesty.

Or the ..

François?

François.

- But François.
- One moment, Father.

You may go.

- Now what is it, Father?
- François.

What does this mean?
You here, dressed like a ..

I'll explain that later.
Now what is your urgent message?

I can tell that only to the King
or the Grand Constable.

I am the Grand Constable.

François, this is no time for jesting.

Montigny has assembled his
cockleshells at the court of miracles.

Hundreds, thousands of them.

They know the Burgundians will attack soon.

And then they plan to
sack and loot the city.

But François.

If you were there you could stop them.

They would listen to you.
They always have.

- Milord.
- What is it?

The Burgundians have attacked.
They have broken through the west gate.

Then it is too late.

Too late.

No, Father. It is not too late.

You say my friends listen to me.
Then perhaps they will follow me.

François.

Where is he?

Where is he?

Where is he?

So there you are, my Lord Grand Constable.

You have failed, haven't you.

And failed miserably.

Arrest him.

After him.

After him.

He's got away, Your Majesty.

So he got away, did he? Very well.

Issue a command.
Anyone seeing that man arrests him.

If he resists arrest, cut him down.

To your posts, Generals.

Do your best and God save France.

We have been fools long enough.

While they're doing the fighting
we'll sack and loot the city.

We'll never get a chance like this again.

Hey.

That's only part of it.

I want you to remember this.

If the Burgundians take the city.

We were helping.

On the other hand.

If the city should win we
were helping the city.

We were on our way to battle and we
saw some Burgundians in a house.

We took after them.

And during the fighting the thieving
Burgundians took the silver.

That is all very fine but
I would like to know this.

- Who's going to lead us?
- I am of course.

You? Ha.

- Well, I don't want any part of it.
- For two whites I would ..

For two whites you would
murder your own mother.

Your oratory is improving, my dear Rene.

Don't you think so, Huguette? Villon.

- Villon.
- François.

Yes. François Villon.

I've come to tell you a few things my
friend de Montigny forgot to tell you.

Now.

We all know there is
no honor among thieves.

So I'm not going to
talk to you about honor.

And I'm not appealing to
any patch of decency ..

I know you never had.

Now.

As you stand there the city is falling.

Falling to thieves like ourselves.

Cut-throats.

Who have come all the way from Burgundy.

To take what belongs to us.

Beggars to beg the bread
from our beggars' mouths.

Cutpurses to cut our purses.

And Macks to mash our women.

Are we going to let these poachers
move in on our preserve?

These country louts show us how it's done.

Are they going to starve us to death?

Then I tell you this.

There is no city that can be
conquered unless it wants to be.

And whether they like it or not.

We are part of the city.

The part that knows how to fight.

- Or don't we?
- Why, of course we do.

Good. Then let's fight.

I say, let us fight.

Come on. To the west gate.

We're completely overwhelmed sir.
We should retire and defend the palace.

Yes, yes.

- Get my horse.
- Milord.

It's the Grand Constable
himself leading the people.

It's a rout. They're on the run.
Quick. Our horses.

- Ah, Tabarie.
- We have them on the run.

Come on, after them. Come on.

Barbezier.

Quick. Father.

- Master Noel.
- Yes, sir?

Take some men and arrest that traitor.

Traitor?

You heard His Majesty's orders.

Carry them out. Come, gentlemen.

Huguette.

Don't leave me.

I won't.

My orders are to arrest you, Milord.

Arrest?

- Why, this man has ..
- I'm sorry, Father.

His Majesty's orders.

I have the honor to inform Your Majesty.

That our arms have been
victorious on every side.

The Duke of Burgundy and
his armies are in full retreat.

Well, well, well.

You have done wonders, General.

Not entirely alone, Your Majesty.

I have received able support from
General Saliere and General Barbezier.

Your Majesty's orders have been
carried out to the last word.

Even to the running down and arrest
of your traitorous Grand Constable.

Whose fate is now in Your Majesty's hands.

Excellent.

The Count de Montcorbier.

Having proved himself
a coward and a traitor ..

Is hereby sentenced to be hanged this day.

Your Majesty.

Your Majesty.

A great injustice is being done.

Last night we were facing defeat.

When the city was saved by François Villon.

Yes. François Villon.

The man you know as the
Count de Montcorbier.

The one Your Majesty has
just sentenced to death.

But Your Majesty ..

Very interesting.

Continue.

Ah ..

Your Majesty, if you will permit me.
This Reverend gentleman ..

Will prove conclusively what
Lady Katherine said is true.

Yes.

- Surely, Your Majesty will not listen?
- I shall hear the Reverend gentleman.

Proceed, Father.

It is true, Your Majesty.

When I told François the rabble were
planning to sack and loot the city ..

Ha.

Good morning, Master Cut-throat.

Ah, don't tell me.

I'm to have the honor of your personal
escort to the gibbet, Your Majesty.

I have been given to understand
that you and some other footpads.

Had something to do with the defeating
of the Burgundians last night.

Is that true or is it not?
Answer me. Yes or no?

Well, I suppose I did.

Well only this, my friend.

That once more you have made
everything very complicated.

You've a devilish talent for seating me
on the point of the sword of justice.

And it is becoming
uncomfortable in the extreme.

I'm sorry I have no cushion to offer.

For Your Majesty's comfort.

Now, now. Please.
Please spare me your witticisms.

It's difficult enough trying
to be King of France.

I have found that out, Your Majesty.

You know.

You know, that is the first nice
thing you have ever said to me.

Yes. Well now, François Villon.

In recognition of your heroic but
murderous services to the crown.

I hereby commute your sentence
of death to life imprisonment.

- Life imprisonment?
- Don't interrupt me.

You shall be imprisoned within the
confines of our beautiful France.

Tow wander or dally. As you see fit.

The stars shall be your roof.

And your bed.

The lush meadows of Normandy
or the warm sands of Brittany.

Yes. Yes.
That's almost poetry, isn't it.

Poetry.

The most beautiful I ever
heard, Your Majesty.

Yes. But.

As you're an inveterate mischief-maker.

A rabble-rouser and sower of dissension.

I forbid you to ever show yourself
again inside the walls of Paris.

You can have the rest of France.

But I must have peace.

I sympathise, Your Majesty.

You'll be turned over to the
custody of your foster father.

Who will see to it that you leave Paris
before dawn tomorrow. Now get out.

- Your Majesty.
- My Lord.

- Get out. Get out.
- Lady Katherine.

One more thing.

The Lady Katherine.

Katherine?

It may interest you to know that it was
her intercessions that saved your neck.

Before you leave the palace the Lady
Katherine would like a word with you.

No. It's better this way.

Will you thank the Lady Katherine.

And tell her that someday I hope
to make the saving of my neck.

Worthy of her efforts.

He told me to tell you that
this was the end, Milady.

If something can have an end
that never had a beginning.

That he's going on hoping to
find a further understanding ..

Of the things that have now come to him.

Father, when did he leave?

- About an hour ago, my child.
- What road did he take?

I promised not to tell.

Was it the east?

No.

The south?

I promised not to tell.

Thank you, Father. Thank you.

Milady, there is a man
walking on the road ahead.

Is he the one, Milady?

Yes.

Shall we overtake him?

No, no. We mustn't overtake
him until he's very tired.

He is a very obstinate man.