All language subtitles for 2 Anne Boleyn

# As the holly groweth green

# And never changeth hue

# So am I, ever hath been

# Unto my lady true #

# So am I, ever hath been

# Unto my lady true #

Your Grace writes a fine song
and you play it rarely, Mark.

-Madam.
-What do you think, Your Grace?

-Aye, he plays well enough.
-I thank Your Grace.

Constancy is a goodly virtue,
Mark. Remember it.

It was a fine choice, Your Grace. We turn
so easily from love to hate, do we not?

Ladies, leave us.
Mark, you may withdraw a little.

-Your Grace.
-Aye, madam.

They have now worked our arms,
the Royal and those of Anne Boleyn.

They do well.
Their work pleases me.

And I?

-I owe you so many thanks for giving me all this.
-No need for thanks.

-Wolsey could build well, hmm?
-And die, fortunately.

-Aye, he was a proud man.
-You did right, Your Grace.

I know.

No more talk of dying.
That's the way to sadness.

-Please, I love you when you laugh.
-And when I do not?

-I love you.
-You're a child, Anne.

And a woman,
as you know well enough.

My lord, do you remember
those days in the country?

We had no fears then. No evil tongues
to come between us, and now...

Now we are older, Anne,
and you are less a child.

-You made me what I am.
-No.

Constant to you, my lord.

Oh, I could smooth those cares away.

Our hands are interlocked,
as are our arms.

There was a time, Nan, when
we were younger. Do you remember?

You called me Nan.

-Oh, my lord...
-Not while he plays here.

I'll send him away.

-Or we could go.
-No.

-I no longer please you?
-You please me well enough.

-You do not bed with me.
-Well, I have other matters.

-Other women!
-And if I have?

-I am your queen and your wife.
-And I am your king.

-And my husband!
-I told you, no!

These other women, do you love
them? Can they give you an heir?

Can you?

-Our daughter, Elizabeth...
-A girl!

Well, you seemed pleased
enough at her birth.

Aye, but a woman is no fit heir.

Fit only for your bed, it seems!

-There are no other women, Anne.
-I don't believe it.

-It's the truth.
-No.

You ask too much of me.
I speak the truth. Believe me.

Soft words. Soft words.
You don't love me, you don't...

I'll not be miscalled by
any woman, queen or no!

-Oh, Henry, stay.
-My name, madam.

Husband.

You call me liar,
you call me a whoremaster.

I'll leave you till your temper's cooled!

Now, use no tears with me, madam.

-No more of them, I tell you.
-I'm to bear your son.

My son?

-Oh, no, no, no, I'll not believe it.
-Oh, believe me.

My father had three sons,
three chances of an heir.

And I have none, save bastards.

I am to give you one, Your Grace's heir.

My lord, there are somewho say
that I'm not your rightful wife.

Who? Who dares say it?

Well, we have been strangers since
we made this that pumps up my belly.

And I would have those who say that I'm not
the rightful queen gutted on Tower Hill.

I would have them scattered
like offal when my son is born.

So they shall be,
should you bear me a son.

Your Grace, shall we dance?
That all the world may rejoice

with us and with our heir, tonight?

Tonight, tonight.
Aye, Nan, we will dance.

Then all may see our joy and
know that we are right together.

Pray for a son.

Mark, play for me. Come to my room
and play me something gentle.

-Husband.
-Madam.

You wish to speak with your sister
and not with your wife, I think.

-I think so, yes.
-Then I may go hang?

As you will, madam.

If you could but see beyond
her eyes which bedazzle you,

you wouldn't love her and
fawn upon her as you do.

-Mind your tongue, madam.
-No spirit in you, no manhood.

-I've married a jelly.
-And I a tight-lipped bitch.

-You knew, sir, when we married.
-No, I did not.

You wanted love, my lord.
You confound me.

-Maybe.
-I could never love a jelly.

The French whores are better spoken
than you will ever learn to be.

It would be folly, madam.

It is folly.

-My sweet sister.
-Brawling, madam?

It was love-play, my lady.

-Oh, don't juggle words with me.
-Madam.

I would talk with my brother.

They say I am overpowering, George.
Do you think it?

No. Proud, maybe, and that
is well, for you are Queen.

-George, you shouldn't kneel to me.
-You are the Queen.

And your sister.

You've never loved her, have you, George?
Yet she's strong enough and rich enough.

-She doesn't take your fancy?
-I would not talk of it.

-Oh, I would you did.
-She's a tight-lipped...

Bitch! Aye, and she's jealous.

-How can you know that?
-Well, I watch her and I'm a woman.

-She's jealous.
-Aye?

-With cause?
-If you can be accounted a cause, yes.

I?

She's a fool!
Any sister loves her brother.

She's a fool. I mean, what about
the ladies in France, hmm?

You liked them well enough this time? And
yet, your wife is jealous of your sister.

My wife and I have never loved.

-Oh, that's sad. I'm sorry.
-Aye.

Oh, no, truly, to love and be loved
is a most complete experience.

-Would I could know it!
-(SIGHING) I'm sorry.

The King and I do love each other so.

Loved, Anne.
It is not so now, I think.

Ah, George.

I am to have his son.

-Anne!
-And it will be a son.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

Time's run well for you,
Master Cranmer.

-Master Cromwell.
-Aye, you are in favour.

Times are topsy-turvy, Cromwell.
Men should watch their heads.

Aye. Some more than others,
I am warned.

-You must take care.
-Not yet, Your Grace.

That son of mine must not be
early-born as was the last.

You should forgive me that.

This son of yours will
forgive all things, believe me.

-You're weary.
-Afraid, Your Grace.

Of what?

-Men. I told you.
-What men?

Show me. You shall not fear,
for the sake of him in you.

Some would still believe
I am not the rightful queen.

They are guilty of treason, Your Grace,
and would make your son a bastard.

We shall dance!

My lady, it may be such men
will dance to another tune.

(LAUGHING)

I'll speak with Cromwell.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

A handsome man, Your Grace.

Henry Norreys dances like a horse, Rochford.

But handsome, you'd agree, Your Grace.

Aye, handsome enough. Were I not
a better man,I might be jealous!

You're not jealous, Rochford, are you?

She is a sweet sister, Your Grace.

With a sharp tongue on occasions.

-You curb her, no doubt.
-Mmm.

-Well?
-She favours two or three over all others.

-I need names, woman.
-Mark Smeaton.

-The musician?
-It is true. I've heard her talking with him.

She bade him come to
her chamber and play to her.

Music?

She paid him over-well
for a strum of his lute,

-of that I am sure.
-How well? How well?

-Gold.
-Smeaton. What others?

Sir Francis Weston and
Master Norreys she favours.

I've heard her talking with Norreys of the
time when... "When our Lord King be dead."

-Go on.
-She did ask him who would be her husband then.

Norreys seemed to
feel he fitted her bill.

-Aye?
-They played with words,

but there was meaning behind it.

Would you say they plotted
for King Henry's death?

I could not say they didn't.

There are others. Lord Rochford.

He is her brother.
Do you know what you say, my lady?

Aye.

Lady Rochford, remember what I know,

and remember I will use it
against you if I must.

Listen and watch and wait your time.
Good night.

Ah!

(ALL EXCLAIMING)

-I would come to you tonight, Nan.
-My lord.

We'll ride a few furlongs together.

Oh, it wouldn't be wise, my lord.
We must think of your son.

(BURPING)

I'll mount you now, son or no son.

-What, before my Lord Archbishop?
-Before them all.

Come, lady. We will go.

Oh, no, my lord,
you must not take pleasure of me now.

I'll take it elsewhere, then.

-I'll not endure it.
-You'll do little else. He's your king.

He's my husband and
I will not have him whore...

Anne, take care your tongue
doesn't loosen your head.

What he does, he does. There's no help
for it for it's in his nature.

When that son of yours is born,
then you candem and his faith, maybe.

Oh, take care, you're hurting.
I can't endure having my hair pulled.

There's much you can't endure. There's
much you must learn to endure, sister.

He's my husband and he
will not whore further!

Anne, the King will love you
for your son, but don't...

Please, don't demand or order His Majesty,

or you will reap a bitter harvest.
Let it lie.

-I have my honour.
-Honour.

-I'm the Queen, George.
-Let us forget it.

And by the mass, leave your husband
to his own devices at this time.

I cannot breathe out, you fool!
I'm locked in this like one pressed.

-I cannot breathe!
-It was made as measured, Your Grace.

Don't! Don't dare to say we lie.

-Well, do we lie?
-Oh, no, Your Majesty. It is my foolishness.

It is.

Oh, what do you want, woman?
I told them to admit no one.

-I am the Queen, Your Grace.
-Well?

-Will you try the arm...
-Get me out of this before I die for lack of air.

-What do you want?
-To speak with you.

I'd rather not. Take this and
make me something that will fit.

Now, will you hear me?

Oh, I'm tired of that too, you, Cromwell,
Cranmer sounding in my ears. Leave us!

I would talk to my wife. Leave us!
I tell you, I am weary of it.

"Your Majesty would do well
to consider the French offer."

"The Emperor Charles desires..."
Talk, talk, talk!

"You never come near me." Oh...

Why do you never
come near me or talk to me?

I do not wish to see you so.

Yet you desire what causes my state.
You want our son.

Aye.

You wouldn't take one minute from your
whores and spend that minute with your wife?

Do you know what some still call you,
madam? The great whore.

Is it mine? That in there?

It is yours. You got him.
No one else.

You treat me like a whore!
I'll not endure it.

You will endure all, madam.
I rule here.

-I'm leaving.
-You will stay, Anne, until I give you leave!

And then you will go.

No! You mock me!

To other women, to men in my court.
You keep people about you who hate me.

The things you dare say.
This child wassired by another man.

You're not fit to be father to my son!

Madam, remember to whom you speak.

I have the power to humble you,
much and more than I have raised you.

Remember that before you speak again.

Threaten me, strike me if you will,

but for pity's sake, don't humiliate
me as you do. I can't endure it.

Those women that you bed,
my lord, I hear about it.

My ladies delight to tell me.

But you are my husband
and no whoremonger!

If it offends you, shut your eyes
as your betters have done.

All you have to do is give me a son,

and I will love you as
is fitting. Just a son.

Armourer. Armourer!

-Jane Seymour, hmm?
-Who told you?

-Your wife told me.
-Aye. She would delight to tell you.

-It was her duty, she said.
-I'll not believe it.

I need you near me, George.

I can do little.

I am far from all who love me,

-it's ever been so.
-No.

Oh, aye. My coronation. Do you remember?
You were sent away to France.

You needed none, then.

They whispered as I
passed down the street.

I did need you, George.

They whispered

"the great whore" as I passed.

It's your move.

-Those people are nothing.
-But they love Catherine,

-and I would be loved by them as much.
-You are Queen.

What matters that they should
whisper down a street, Anne?

They're but commonfolk
and you are Queen.

Though she be in danger as I see it.

Oh, Jane will be sorry
I ever heard of her.

When I have this,
she will feel my power as others have.

-And the King will give you the honour due to you.
-Aye, aye.

When this is born, we'll win the King
back from the Seymours.

-She is well hated, Your Majesty.
-Mmm.

-I'll believe it.
-You have seen it.

The women on your progress north
with the Queen about a year ago,

they spat at her, Your Majesty.
Do you remember that?

I remember.

-And Your Grace loves Mistress Seymour.
-Now, Cromwell, I love no one!

Least of all mares. Mine threw me this
afternoon. I've done riding for a time.

I have talked to Master Cranmer
as Your Majesty would have me.

-I would have you?
-Very wisely, very wisely.

-Oh, and what said Cranmer?
-He was of my opinion, Your Majesty,

that Your Grace knows where your duty
lies, and we know where ours is.

The truth!

Your Grace is blamed by many for the
death of the Princess Dowager Catherine

and for the fate of men
like More and Fisher.

You are blamed for the
indiscretions of your Queen.

Now, Cromwell, tread softly.

I tread as my duty directs me, Your
Majesty. I tread for your interests.

It is thought by many that
the Queen has bewitched you.

Barren or with a daughter,
she is nothing for you.

She can be seen tobe guilty of
so much that you are blamed for.

Master Cranmer and I both think
Your Grace did well.

-Did well?
-We have found meansto release you from her.

What cause?

-No cause,Your Majesty, but means.
-What?

England needs your heir,

or we'll have the bloody wars
of York and Lancaster again.

You think of your own neck, eh?

We think of our duty to Your Grace.

(LAUGHING)
Thomas, I'm not a fool.

You better ask Cranmer to
start to pray for you,

or to pray that the Queen has no son.

For if she does, by God,
I'll take you! Be assured.

You have ways, you say, to remove her.
You've gathered causes, I've no doubt.

But should she mother an heir,
she must be above suspicion.

And you will be silenced!

Good day, Thomas.

And ask friend Cranmer to start his prayers.

Madam. Madam.

Pray, madam, for the safety of your child.

I'm so afraid. They all leave me.

No.

-I'm all alone, Cranmer.
-That is not true.

Oh, how can you!

Sorry, forgive me.

Now, please, pray, my lady.

For what?

Forgiveness?
Should I pray for that?

They all blame me, point the finger,
accuse me.

Should I pray for their forgiveness?
Catherine? Mary, her daughter?

Should I pray?

Cranmer, they all turn against me.

-My lady, you must try to pray.
-I had a dream last night.

-Aye, madam.
-There was this room hung with crimson cloth,

a box of pearls and finegowns.
They were for me.

But I was afraid.
I saw this room as through a gauze.

I pushed against it,

and was held, held fast.

The gauze that spread across the room,
it was a web!

And I was held fast in it.

I'm full of fear,
Cranmer, and I'm alone.

-I'm all alone.
-Madam, this is not true.

Now, you must pray to
God to give you peace.

I must pray to God to give me a son!

The King would have a son
and I would give him one.

-I'm so afraid.
-There is no need.

Oh, what do you know of fear?

It sinks into you and roots there.

Cranmer, have you ever held
something in your hands

so beautiful you couldn't
endure to lose it? Have you?

A jewel? A flower? A woman?

Once I made the King weep.

One tear would be so precious now.

It would be our love.

And it goes, Cranmer.

It rots intoa canker as I watch it.

And I would have a son
to make it bloom again.

A son, Cranmer.

Oh!

Get help!

Cranmer! Get me...

(GROANING)

Your Majesty! The Queen is delivered of
her child, Your Majesty, before the time.

Well?

-A boy.
-A boy.

Oh, Jane! A boy!

But, Your Majesty!

-PAGE: Your Majesty!
-Out of my way!

Where is he? Where's my son?

Where is...

Where is he?

Well, madam. A son!

-Where is he?
-ANNE: Forgive me.

Forgive? What is this?

-What have you done to my son?
-I've been so frightened. He came too soon.

Where is he?

Our son was born dead.

It was too soon, before my time.
There can be no blame for that!

Our son is dead.

Oh, no. No.

It's God's will, Your Grace. Why, we've
had bad luck, but it will change.

You've had him dead, madam.

I cannot weep for you, not now.

You will.
Weeping and love are close.

And I am empty.
I hear one thing pounding in my brain.

"The great whore!" You killed him!

-You killed my son!
-No!

-You killed my son!
-Our son!

My son, you killed him!

You bewitched him as you've
bewitched me these last years!

You're a foul thing.
You'll have no more sons by me.

Wait, wait.
Your Grace, don't leave me.

Don't! We'll have more sons. I'm young
yet and you have the power. We'll have...

(GRUNTING)

(DOOR CLOSES)

-Three months you've had!
-It takes time, Your Majesty.

But we've had all we need now.
The Queen has been unfaithful.

As I thought.

Her musician, Smeaton,
will be accused.

-A musician?
-There is worse, Your Majesty. Norreys.

Francis Weston, Brereton,

and still worse.

Dear sister,
it is no time for fear.

His Grace has come with you.
You are forgiven.

Maybe, I hope.
I wish you well, George.

(CROWD CHEERING)

Jousting is a fine sight, Your Grace.
Yet you seem displeased.

-No.
-My brother is a brave sight, is he not?

Rochford? Mmm.
You love him, madam?

-My brother? Oh, yes, indeed.
-Mmm-hmm.

-Your Grace rarely smiles upon me now.
-I rarely have cause to smile.

-Yet I would make you happy.
-Or a cuckold.

What?

-That handkerchief.
-Yes?

-I gave it to you?
-No.

-Oh, who, then?
-I made it.

-Made it?
-It's the truth.

And where does it go?
Where now?

I don't know what you'll have me say.

-It is clear, I think!
-I gave it to my knight as a favour.

-You, your knight? A handkerchief? A favour?
-Yes.

-Which knight? Hmm?
-Norreys. Henry Norreys.

-You give HenryNorreys favours?
-Yes.

-Tell Norreys we would see him.
-The wine, Your Grace.

Curse the wine! We leave.

Norreys, do you love our Queen?
Hmm?

-As we should all love our Queen, Your Majesty.
-Cross no words with me, sir.

-Your Majesty, I did not mean to cross words.
-It was meant.

Admit that you love the Queen, that she
is more to you than she should be.

Admit it,

and we could find an easy way for you.

-Deny it, and you know what you will suffer.
-I do deny it, Your Majesty.

She's a sweet, kind lady.

Aye. All right. And she
does give you favours!

We have Norreys too, Smeaton. He will tell
us what we have to know, should you deny us.

-This is madness, sir. I know nothing.
-You lie.

-No.
-But we have it here,

written and attested on oath, that
"The Queen, on the 12th day of April

"in the 26th year of the reign of Henry VIII,
procured and incited Mark Smeaton Esquire,

"one of the musicians of the King's chamber,
to have illicit intercourse with her,

"and that the act was committed at Westminster
on the 26th day of that month."

It's all here. You see?

-Whoever swore to that lies.
-You were favoured by the Queen.

-I do not deny it.
-She paid you money.

-Aye.
-How much?

-I don't recall it.
-But she paid you in gold coin, Master Smeaton,

-didn't she?
-Sometimes, yes.

-Gold for a musician, Master Smeaton?
-She is kind.

To those she favours.

Those are lies on that paper,
sir, I swear it.

You had best swear that
they are the truth.

-I don't. I cannot.
-It would be to your advantage.

They are lies.

Yet they will be the death of you,
Master Smeaton, believe me,

for to know the Queen is
an act of high treason.

-I have never known the Queen.
-Yet she pays you gold?

Not for songs alone. You can't expect me
to believe that a song is worth gold.

Or were you Orpheus in your playing,
and the Queen Eurydice?

I have been guilty of nothing.
I will swear to it.

And you had best admit your faults as
written, for if you do you may escape.

-You understand me?
-You seek charges against the Queen.

I have the charges and I will have the admissions.
I offered you an easy way to freedom.

Not worth a spit. You know it.
I'm a friend to the Queen.

A friend? We know that, Smeaton.
From this paper, we know what sort of friend.

-Admit it. It will be easier.
-No.

Do you know what that is?

-No!
-When we put that round your head

and begin to twist, those little
knotswill push your eyes out.

Pop, like chest
nuts in the fire.

No. You can't.

Admit your guilt. It will suffice.

Admit the charges, Smeaton.

Just say, "I am guilty", and there
will be no need to twist the rope.

-I cannot.
-As you wish.

(SMEATON SCREAMING)

Enough?

Now, Mark, you will tell
me that you are guilty.

Just say "Guilty" and 't
will be there done.

(DOOR OPENING)

The Tower, madam. I heard it
from one of Cromwell's household.

-Poor Norreys.
-What does it mean, madam?

It means, Lady Rochford, that there is
very little time before I am taken, too.

And what of Mark?
I've seennothing of him all day.

Taken, madam. Did I not tell you?
Cromwell took him also.

Poor Mark.

(LADY ROCHFORD SIGHING)

I think you play-act, madam.
That sigh is not meant.

I cannot say it is.
He is but a musician. Nothing.

Yet they were men,
at least, and good men.

As was Sir Thomas More, madam.

How dare you! Leave us.

We will have no more of you.

Take care, for the King will love me yet,
and you will go, wife to my brother or no!

She was right on one score.

Sir Thomas More was a man,
for all that, and he died.

Aye, he did.

Oh, poor Mark and Norreys.
They will die.

The King takes men so silently and leaves
them to Cromwell. You may be sure of that.

-I would only know of what they've been accused.
-I do not know, Anne.

Nor do I.

Brereton, Norreys, Weston,
Rochford and Smeaton.

-They will all be taken in their turn, is it clear?
-Aye, it is clear enough.

And, my Lord of Norfolk,

His Majesty wishes you to act as
commissioner at the first hearing.

You'll learn nothing from those men.

We have one confession.
Smeaton's.

For the rest, you may be right.
At least they are gentlemen.

They'd rather be torn in pieces than
admit anything under torture.

You've read the charges through?

Aye, and a broad batch they are, too.

The net must hold and you must pull it in
The King wishes it.

-Shall I hear the Queen?
-Aye.

My niece shall haveno joy of her uncle,
of that you may be sure.

-She's a proud shrew.
-She must not speak.

She has cunning words, else
how did she bewitch our King?

She will not bewitch me,
Master Cromwell.

-But the form of justice must be done.
-It will be.

You will read the charges to her,
she will plead not guilty,

you will tell her there is a man confessed,

and she will be held for
questioning in the Tower.

Will he have her killed?

-The King?
-Uh-huh?

The Tower, then. She'll find it cold.

-Kingston, we have your prisoner.
-We await her.

Her lady is to accompany her,
and we thought my Lady Kingston.

-Aye.
-She is to be kept close, Kingston.

You understand me?

Prisoners in the Tower, Master Cromwell,
are rarely kept anything but close.

See to it.

I'll not welcome you, madam.
'Twould not be fit.

Hardly. Yet you should have welcomed me
the last time I lodged here, Master Kingston,

-before my coronation.
-You shall have that same chamber, madam.

A witty man, but have no fear,
for I shall soon be free.

-Your business is done then, my lord?
-For the moment.

-We will speak further.
-No doubt.

You'll go in then, madam.

I'm truly frightened of this place.

Oh, dear Jesus, help me.

You know that I am innocent.

Before you, I am innocent of
the crimes I have been accused of.

Help me, dear Jesus,
in this my hour of need.

And you, gentlemen,

I beg you, beseech my gentle lord, the King,

to be good to me, to love me.

Are you weary, ladies?

I must say 11 days seems more
like 11 months to me.

Still, we have time for thinking,
such as we never had before,

-which is no bad thing.
-I have somenews for you, madam.

-Oh, yes. Bad news by your face.
-Aye. Bad news.

Well, what is it?

'Tis of Sir Francis Weston, Brereton,
Master Norreys and Mark Smeaton.

Well?

They have been found guilty
of the charges, madam.

Your father was at their trial.

He too proclaimed them guilty.
They will die, madam.

Oh, indeed?

-And in finding them guilty...
-They will find me guilty also.

Anne! Anne! No more. No more.

They will try me?
They will try the Queen of England?

They wouldn't dare.

The King will not have it so.

I grieve for Mark and the others,

but the King will not have me tried.
I shall go free.

And if they should want to keep me from
the world, I shall go to a nunnery.

Yes. That will suffice it.
I'll write and make the offer.

A nunnery would answer it.
It would answer it. It would.

The King will not have me tried because

I am his wife and the Queen.

The King cannot try me because
there are no men who can judge me,

save only my lord, the King.

Once I made him weep.
Did you know that?

Yes, many years ago, I left him,

and it is true,
and he begged me to come back to him.

He wept before my father and my brother
and he begged them to get me back.

He was a handsome fool.

And now his tears mean nothing
for he weeps so often.

He will make no trial for me. And,
ladies, the charge against my brother.

I and my brotherbedded together?

He cannot press it. I shall go free.
I know it. I know it.

I know it. I know it. I know it.

Madam, madam, sit and rest a little.

-You are weary, overwrought.
-Did you know, three years,

but a few days,
I lay here dreaming of a coronation?

Shall I sleep today, do you think?
Shall I ever sleep again?

I must pray.

I must ask for forgiveness.

I've been jealous, proud.

I would be quiet in my mind.

I shall pray, ladies.

Do you, likewise.

But she will be found guilty, Your Majesty.

Oh, I'm sure of it. Sure.
Do you like this colour, Crom?

Your Majesty, we have as
certained from France...

Do you think a lady
would like this colour?

-...and from the Emperor's ambassador...
-It suits me well, Cromwell.

...that they will be pleased
to salute a new queen.

Oh, then Jane should please them all.
Though me above the rest, eh?

They must think they will have some
advantage from the death of the Queen.

Death?

She will be tried, found guilty
of treason and she will die.

It is the law.

'Tis...

too fair an evening to
talk of death, Cromwell.

-You see to it.
-Your Grace.

What of the Lady Elizabeth?

-Hmm?
-We await Your Grace's orders, Your Majesty.

She will be a threat to our heirs
when Jane gives us sons.

She should be a bastard.

-You see to it.
-Aye.

The trial is tomorrow.

Well, make sure Cranmer divorces
us from her before she...

He got us married to the whore,
now he can unmarry us.

-Then it is in my hands.
-Aye, and Norfolk's.

See that he knows his duty.
I'll get a fitting heir to our throne.

Perhaps tonight or tomorrow.

Don't let that whore bewitch
your court, Cromwell.

And let us know when she's...

finished.

(GAVEL POUNDING)

Gentleman, Jailer of the Tower,
bring in your prisoner.

Be seated, madam.

Sir Christopher Hales
will read the indictment

so that all are clear as to the charges.

My lord.

"In the 28th year of the reign of
our most gracious King Henry VIII,

"here in the Tower, be it known, that
the Lady Anne, formerly Anne Boleyn,

"now Queen of England,

"is charged on the following counts
under the Statute of Treasons.

"Of being seduced and
instigated by the devil,

she has traitorously committed adultery."

(PEOPLE MURMURING)

"Also underthe Statute of Treasons,

"she is charged with compassing
and imaginingthe King's death."

You have no right to try me.

I am the Queen and you are not
my equals. You cannot try me.

-But the fact is, we are, madam.
-Yes.

But the verdict is already
given by my uncle.

Why do you hate me, Master Cromwell?
No answer?

Then I will tell you. You hate me
because I know you to be a liar,

and a self-seeker, and if you know the
truth at all, you know that to be so.

-My lords, must I take such words from a woman...
-From the Queen.

My lords, I do love my husband and
honour him, as I am bound to do.

It is his enemies who bring me here.

It is his enemies who wish
to bring about my death.

You are the tools of the enemies of
the King and you will be used by them.

(MURMURING)

Quiet in this court.
Sir Christopher.

We will hear the Attorney General.

My lords,this is a simple matter,
simply disposed of.

It is idle to believe that we would
accuse a queen of treason

or of crimes against God
if it were not so.

The Queen, as you have heard, has committed
acts of fornication and of treason.

And in so doing, by our laws,

is guilty of crimes against
our sovereign lord, King Henry.

You, my lords, have only to listen
to the facts, as we present them,

to see the monstrous nature of those crimes
and to see also that our case rests on truth.

It rests on confession,
freely given,

and on evidence of witnesses,
also freely given.

I do but present you with facts.

And from hearing them, it will be your
duty to agree the fate of that lady.

You may well find your duty unpleasant,
my lords,

but you will be steadfast
in your application of our law

and of the just punishment
she so richly deserves.

Oh, my lord, I do protest. I am found
guilty before I have been tried.

You shall have your turn, madam.
Sir Christopher.

It is a fact that the lady did
procure one Henry Norreys, Esquire,

on the 6th of October, 1533,
to have illicit intercourse with her

and that act was committed at Westminster
on the 25th of October in that year.

It is a fact that she committed
the same acts with William Brereton,

Francis Weston and even, my lords,
with a musician, Mark Smeaton.

We have dates...

...one or other of them
when that should be accomplished.

The lady said often that they
would deprive the King of an heir

and they practised to compass this.

We have testimony of this, my lords,
from witnesses who came freely to us

that the truth could be known.

My lords, this is no matter for debate.
This be fact.

That lady is guilty and you will
find her so, I have no doubt.

Do I have my chance now, Uncle?

They say they have proof.

-I would hear these proofs.
-These papers. These are proof enough.

These are confessions signed
by those who made them, freely.

You may smile, madam. Listen and remember.

"I, Mark Smeaton, do hereby admit
to knowledge of Anne, the Queen.

"She did beg me and promise me
many rewards,should I agree.

"She did give me gifts both
before and after our intercourse."

When I asked him when he was procured,
he told me the 12th of April, 1534.

It's here, in this paper.

He knew her at Westminster on the 26th
day of that month. It's in this paper.

The proof is here, too,
in this paper, freely signed.

A serving woman of the Queen has
eclared that she had seen Norreys,

Weston and Brereton at different
times in my lady's privy chamber.

Where is she? Will she say to us
what you say is in those papers?

We have no swearing of witnesses
into this court, madam.

You answer to us and to no other.

Can she be found? This serving woman?

-That is not material.
-Agreed.

-Where is she?
-She is dead.

-Ah, indeed.
-CROMWELL: You wereheard with Henry Norreys

plotting whom you should marry
when the King was dead.

-No.
-We have more proof.

-More paper!
-One of your ladies.

-Mine?
-My Lady Rochford.

Ah, my Lady Rochford.
Ah, that rings true.

Ah, you admit it, then?
You planned to kill the King?

My husband.

You should answer.

You will answer, Sir Christopher,
before God.

-You dare not pray to God, madam.
-I dare.

I'm closer to him, I think,
than you will ever be.

You knew your brother carnally.

And you say you are close to God?
You have sold yourself to the devil, rather.

-I love my brother.
-Ah, you love your brother.

Aye.

My lords, I am accused
of knowledge of my brother.

Can you believe that?
Can anyone?

I love my brother.
Aye, I love my brother.

Would any of you that have brothers
deny that you love them?

It is your duty before God.

It is also my inclination, my lords,
for we were born of the same parents,

we played together, ran free
in the fields, we rode together,

I watched him as he learnt to hunt,
to shoot, to dance.

I watched him at his learning and I
watched him in the closeness of our family.

He was my friend, my lords,
as much as my brother

and I did love him for that.

He stayed over-long in
your bedroom many times.

You loved him over well,
it seems.

I loved him, Cromwell,
as any sister loves her brother.

And how did he love you?

We talk of love.

I hardly think Master Cromwell understands
us, for he has never known it, I fear.

-My lords, this assault on my good name is...
-Oh, forgive me, Uncle.

-Do you deny that you kissed your brother?
-On the lips.

-I kissed my brother.
-Before he kissed his wife? Many times?

She did charge that we committed
incest together?

Aye.

Well, then judge you how much
she loved him, my lords.

You have no heir to the King.
Your last child was stillborn.

-ANNE: No.
-Aye.

You did not even want a son for His Grace's
sake. You practised not to have one.

You used forbidden
knowledge to prevent it.

You and those other traitors

plotted for the death of our King
that you might take his place.

(ANNE LAUGHING)

My lords, think on this.

She laughs when I talk of death for
our King, and yet she says she loves him.

You and my Lord Rochford spoke often
of the problem of getting an heir.

Yes. I was afraid the King would
not be content until he had one.

But you did say to Rochford that the
King was not capable of begetting a son.

-Or any child.
-No.

-"He could not be a father," you said.
-No.

Yet you were brought to bed of children.

-Whose, madam?
-Whose?

Oh, Cromwell, you malign me,

and you are safe to do it now.

It has taken you so long to bring
me here. You must savour the moment.

I am here because I love His Grace.

And you accuse me of having children by
other men when I am married to the King.

-You cannot deny it.
-Tell me. Am I proud?

-Over-proud, madam.
-And if I am proud,

do you think I would stoop to have
low-born children of low-born men?

Yet you took the traitors to your bed, hmm?

Well, madam, we hold confessions
and statements...

Those men are guilty and so is she.

The great whore, she is called by
the people, and a great whore she is.

One Smeaton, musician, confessed his guilt.

Then I would see Mark Smeaton,

who freely confessed to crimes he
never thought or let alone performed.

-He is condemned.
-And therefore?

Cannot testify here.
It really seems a foolishness, madam,

to ask for a condemned traitor
to appear for you in defence.

Yet note, my lords, she defends
herself through a traitor.

My lord, I said we had no need of debate.
I require a verdict on the lady.

-The case is clear.
-And I am innocent.

That is sure. And I am a victim.

That, too, is sure.

This whole mockery is
unworthy of you, Uncle.

It is unworthy of you as representative
of my gentle husband.

This trial is no trial,
but a signature on a document.

The poorest subject is given
justice that I am denied.

I am the Queen and entitled to
better than you have given me.

Accusations, papers, lies

are easy means of denying
the truth to a court of men.

But the truth shall be known in that
court which shall judge us all in time.

I am sorry for you, Cromwell,

for in condemning me,
you condemn yourself elsewhere.

Give your verdict, gentlemen,

but, remember, I am your Queen.

My lords, your Queen has denied
your right to hear her.

She denies the honesty of each
and every one of you.

She denies that you are unbiased.1
She denies that you are gentlemen.

She threatens you with the wrath of that
court that we shall all face in time.

She dares to deny your justice.

She dares to threaten you with the wrath
of God, that she has forsaken in her sin.

She calls you liars
and panders and unworthy.

She may be the Queen,
but she is a traitor.

And, as such, is judged by all of you,
and I believe you honest men.

(ALL MURMURING)

My lords, consider your verdict.

This lady is brought to us charged
with abominable crimes.

Adultery, incest and treason.

You have heardher prosecution.

You know of the confessions and
of the accounts from witnesses.

Your verdict, my lords.

(WHISPERING)
There will be no dissention.

My lords, you have reached your verdict?

We would hear it.

Guilty, upon my honour.

-Do you speak for all?
-ALL: Aye.

Because you have offended against
our sovereign, the King's grace,

in committing treason against his person,

the law of the realm is this,
that you have deserved death.

And your judgement is this.

That you shall be burned here
within the Tower on the green

or that you shall have
your head smitten off,

as the King's pleasure
shall be further known.

It's a sorry end.

A beginning, perhaps.

Come, madam. Come.

Master Kingston,

I do love my brother.

More wine, Master Kingston?

Oh, you have a tickle stomach?
It is I who should be careful now.

I have little appetite,
my lady, for this sort of work.

And yet you did love your other queen,
I am told, and you do hate me.

-I loved Queen Catherine. Aye.
-And you do hate me?

I cannot, my lady.
I could not eat with one I hated.

There are many who would not feel as you do.

-But it pleases me that you cannot hate me now.
-Aye.

-Master Kingston, will you grant me one favour?
-If I can, I will.

Should the King have me executed,
which I doubt,

although by your long face
I see that you would have it so,

could you ask him to make it quick?

I'm very frightened of fire and
I would sooner die by quicker means.

I will try, my lady.

'Tis a fearful slow death by flame.

I have watched it.

I know it.

This is no fit talk for a lady, Cromwell.

-I will have it finished.
-How finished, Your Majesty?

Burned or beheaded makes
no jot of difference.

Unless one is the victim, Your Majesty.

Fire is the slower, I grant you.

Well, I shall be merciful.
Should she divorce me, admit her guilt,

I shall be merciful.
She'll die the quicker way.

But tell Cranmer he must act quickly.

I have dared, Your Majesty, to ask
Master Cranmer to come here tonight.

We shall not see him.

You tell him. He has no time
for thinking. He must act on this.

I want that whore divorced from me!

I would marry again. Come, Jane.

And tell Norfolk that we are well
pleased with his work today.

He shall be rewarded, but later.

We cannot have it said that the trial
was bought by me before it started.

MAN: Your Majesty.

I've sat and waited.

You sent for me to come down
and now the King will not see me.

-Oh, sit down.
-You shame me.

Sit down.

Some wine, Master Cranmer.

-Oh, soft words are of no use.
-Sit down.

Now, His Majesty wants his divorce,
and quickly.

We do not concern ourselves how you
will obtain it, but obtain it you must

for he would bastardise Elizabeth and
shame Queen Anne before she dies.

I dislike this matter.

Like it or not, it will be
expedient for you to manage it,

else you will be tied to the Boleyns
and that could mean another death.

-You understand me?
-I follow.

Get her confession, it will be easiest.

Offer her freedom, anything,
but get her confession,

-and have it written down.
-Freedom?

Offer it to her, Cranmer, if needs be.

She will die, whatever you offer her.
We want that divorce

and she canconfess and provide it.

His Majesty would then sleep easy in
his bed, now and after she is dead.

Goodnight, Archbishop.

(BANGING)

(MAN LAUGHING)

They are merry.

Is that a scaffold they are building?

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

-Oh, my Lord Archbishop.
-Good day, madam.

I have little time.
I would speak alone with you.

Oh, Lady Boleyn hears all that passes.
We have nothing to hide.

Have you? I see. You may go.

Now, save for those men,
we are alone.

And what you have to say cannot
concern suchcommon people, can it?

I come to remind you of your duty.

Oh, I think of it at all times.

Do not mincewords with me,
madam, I have no time for play.

-But I have all the time.
-Less time than you think,

unless you act to save your head.

How? Act?

I can offer one hope to you, madam,
but one hope, and that a slender one.

-Do you come from the King?
-I can offer one hope to you.

-Of freedom?
-Hope, and surely that is something.

I cannot offer more.

You could offer me freedom, and
then I'd know that you were lying.

-Well, what do you want?
-An admission.

(ANNE LAUGHING)

-It could save you, madam.
-It could save you, Cranmer.

You agree that your duty
is to your King.

My duty is to my husband, yes.
I will admit nothing.

-We have the proofs.
-Those papers?

Oh, you cannot believe in those
proofs they had at the trial.

There were no witnesses.

That trial was not in my hands.
I had no part in that.

Oh, no, indeed. No, you
took no part in any trial.

You run with the times,
it's true.

I serve the King and my Lord Jesus.

And I am a stewed whore.

-Ah, you admit, then...
-Nothing.

-Your duty is to...
-Is to me, Cranmer.

It is to me.

-If you confess, you will be given life.
-You lie.

-You dare to miscall...
-I dare, Cranmer, because I am the Queen.

You offer me life, I suppose,

for the confessions that I have
committed adultery with those poor men,

that I committed incest
with my brother, George.

You offer me life for
what you know to be untrue?

It's a topsy-turvy world, Cranmer,
when a lie would save an honest woman

and the truth would strike her dead.

They offered life to Mark Smeaton?

Poor man, I can't blame him.

You cannot trick me with offers of life.

Then of salvation, maybe.

-You cannot offer me that.
-Indeed I can.

Not for lies.

-How is my lord, the King?
-Angry.

Ah, I see.

-He would marry again.
-Jane? Well.

Soon I shall be no impediment.

You have been that impediment
since you first entrapped him.

He has seen you shame him.
For that, he is angry.

He has been ensnared by your craft
and now he wants to break your web.

That is all. Let him go free.

My comb.

Cranmer, if I did entice
the King by witchcraft,

you know that you and
Norfolk are my familiars.

-You know that, do you not?
-Norfolk? No, madam. That is false.

My uncle has been
known to use his power.

And you, my good Archbishop,
you know as well as I

how you were advantaged
by being chaplain to the Boleyns.

It gave you power and you have used it.

My familiars.

-The King wants a divorce?
-Aye, he does.

I cannot.

-Yet you were found guilty of those charges.
-Which he knows to be untrue.

-Your peers judged you.
-My equals did not.

My Lord Archbishop, you can
tell my husband that I cannot,

even to save his conscience,
admit to incest and whoring.

If he feels guilty at marrying Jane, then
I'm sorry for her for she will suffer as I do.

Perhaps if I refuse, it will make him
angry and he will forget his conscience.

He may be fortunate enough.

Madam, there must be no impediment
to the inheritance.

-Elizabeth?
-She shall be a bastard, whether you admit or not.

And I shall declare your marriage null
and void tomorrow, be assured I shall.

You are a creature, Cranmer.

Run with the times.
Aye. Run with the times.

But I am not your creature.

No. You can pronounce
as you will tomorrow.

I will admit to nothing,
and I willaccuse you of nothing.

But you must beware when you
make my daughter a bastard,

for she is a Boleyn as much as
a Tudor, and she is no bastard!

-You make matters hard for me.
-I deal in the truth. Is that hard for you?

I am not mad, Cranmer.
I could say much of my innocence,

but I would say nothing to hurt my child.

But if you threaten her, then I will lay
these matters and truths before the public

and your head will feel
unsure upon those shoulders.

-You threaten the King?
-I threaten no one.

I fight, Cranmer, for that is
what I am made of. Fighting!

And I will say nothing
to hurt my daughter.

You will say nothing to harm...

You, Norfolk, the King?

I shall say little.

Nothing.

Oh, come.
Let us have no long faces.

Perhaps they are building
that scaffold for nothing.

No one will come, and there
will be nothing to watch.

You are cool, my Lady Anne.

-I'm afraid.
-Of death?

The manner of it.

I have seen men writhe in the flames.

The stench as they melted.

Madam, you have said you would be silent.
You would offer no public comment or blame.

You shall not be burned.

(SOBBING)

-And what of my brother?
-There's no news.

-My lord, I beg you on my knees.
-Incest is a capital crime.

-And when does he die?
-Tomorrow. All those found guilty.

I shall pray for him.

Will you, my lord?

-You didn't tell me he was to die tomorrow.
-We thought it best, madam.

(SLOW DRUMMING)

Masters all,

I come here not to preach and
make a sermon, but to die.

As the law has found me,
so to that law I submit me.

I would ask you all,

and especially those
who are members of the court,

to trust in God and not in
the vanities of this world.

For if I had so done, I think
I had been alive as ye be now.

As to mine offences,

it will do no good to hear them
for which I die here,

but I beseech God that I may
be an example to you all.

That you all may beware by me.

And I heartily require
you all to pray for me

and to forgive me
if I have offended you.

And I forgive you all.

And God save the King.

The King will remember
what you are to him.

They're not building that
scaffold for nothing.

-I am sure he will remember.
-I know my husband. He is a hunter.

-Madam...
-When he has sported, he will kill. 'Tis his nature.

And I am the prey.

Ladies,will you drink with me?

-Madam, no.
-Oh, no, madam.

Oh, no, no. Soon I shall have
no crown. You shall see.

My Lady Boleyn.

My Lady Kingston.

You have both been most kind.

Well, drink. Come.

I would like to make confession.
Can it be arranged?

I would like to confess to Cranmer.

He shall bear that burden.
He shall know my innocence.

-No, I cannot do this.
-But you have been their chaplain for many years.

-A duty, maybe.
-She asks too much.

Hear her confession. You divorce
her from His Grace tomorrow.

You may find a few pearls
to improve our case against her.

-From the confessional?
-My good Archbishop,

you'll go to heaven
with a clear conscience.

But you have no conscience, have you?

-I cannot do this.
-She has played you well.

Are you afraid that the truth
she tells in her confession

will be more than you can bear,
Cranmer?

She was found guilty by her peers.

So, by the law of the land, is guilty,

and before God.

You will know that through her confession
and the taking of the host.

You will know if she is guilty
or innocent before God.

And you can say nothing, Cranmer.
Take care you say nothing.

Go and hear her confess.

Better you than some priest
with a conscience.

So mild a penance?

And you have nothing to say?

So often you have so much to say to me.

Have my little sins
shocked you into silence?

Why did you bidme come, madam?

Someone had to hear my last confession.

-Someone had to listen to those fearful sins.
-Why me?

You have a conscience, Cranmer.

I wanted you to hear and lock away my sins.

They are locked away, are they not?

-You will say nothing of what happened today?
-I can say nothing.

And you know my innocence
for what it is.

I wish to God I had never known.

You shame us all.

-Tomorrow, madam...
-Oh, shush. No more of that.

-Tomorrow, the priest will come?
-Aye.

-Early?
-Aye, early, madam.

Thank you.

Master Cranmer, you stand as though
my sins weighed heavily upon you.

You grow old before us.

-Tomorrow is time enough to sorrow, after the axe.
-There is to be no axe.

No axe? But you promised.
You said the King had been merciful.

-You promised, no fire! You promised, no fire!
-Now, be quiet.

-They have sent toFrance for a swordsman.
-A sword?

-Is that quick?
-Yes.

Oh, then the King is merciful.

Thank him from me when next you see him.

One word more, madam.

Set your ladies to see to your hair.

The swordsman is quick,
I am told, very quick.

Towards noon.

That's high enough.

I'll not impede the Frenchman's
work a minute longer.

I may start a new fashion as I did in
France with those gloves. Do you remember?

Master Kingston, I hear
I'm not to die before noon.

And I'm sorry, therefore, for I had
hoped to be dead and past my pain by now.

Even my lord has deserted me.
It's a lonely world I live in now.

KINGSTON: The pain is little,
my lady, and quick.

And I be dead?

The executioner is very skilful,
I hear, and I have but a little neck.

You see?

Snuff the candles, ladies.
It's wasteful.

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

It is time?

They are ready, madam.

Early.

I won't be a moment.

Master Kingston, you have been kind.

(SLOW DRUMMING)

Masters, I submit me to the law,
as the law has judged me.

And as for my offences,
I here accuse no man.

God knoweth them, I remit them unto him,

beseeching him to have mercy on my soul.

And I pray, Jesu, to save
my sovereign master, the King.

The most noble, godly

and gentle prince that is,

and long to reign over you.

My hair will not impede?

God, have mercy on my soul.

Oh, God, have mercy on my soul.

God, have mercy on my soul.