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"Libera me Domine de morte aeterna in die illa tremanda."

"Quando coeli movendi sunt et terra veneris iudicare saeculum."

"Tremens factus sum ego et timeo, dum discussio venerit et ira."

Father.

I brought you here for one reason: to learn to fight.

He is already left.

Let's go.

Having reached the end of my sinful life,

I prepare to leave my testimony

as to the wondrous and terrible events

that I happened to witness in my youth.

I was a novice in the Benedictine abbey of Melk.

My father, a general to the Holy Roman Emperor

coaxed me away from my studies. I had to fight with him in Italy.

Take her.

He said that we were fighting a right just war,

there are no such things as right just wars.

You can not change the world by killing.

I was 17 years old at the time

and my life was about to change forever.

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_

Remember, when you will leave this earth,

you can take nothing you have received,

but only what you have given.

We are all God's children.

Each one is our brother.

The world is like a great book.

You must learn to read it correctly.

There is only one way to play fully against ignorance and hatred,

use knowledge to better the human race

Come, brother. Come and join us.

Come.

- Come. - Don't touch me.

You are welcomed here.

The outcast...

I was moved by the desire of the truth

and by the suspicion that until now

it was not what I was told.

So say nothing...

The Franciscan's words instructed me

as my father's never had.

Why are you following me?

Because you are interesting.

That is not a good reason for following anyone.

I'm afraid I must continue my journey alone, my friend.

_

William of Baskerville, the emperor thanks you for your services.

- General. - Be sitting.

This is what he hopes will be achieved from the Debate.

We are feating the Pope's steel. Now it's your turn with words.

I'm making this journey to serve and protect my Order.

I'm perfectly aware that you're backing the

Franciscans to use us against the Pope.

Who intends to destroy you.

By accepting the Emperor's support you are giving us yours.

Eat.

Religious people think they can ignore politics.

Nonsense. Religion is politics.

I keep trying get that into my son's head, to no avail, of course.

He wants to be a monk.

I am... Surely he has his reasons.

And I have mine.

Bigheaded, stubborn like his late mother.

Perhaps he is simply a coward.

Why did you become Franciscan?

I heard the story of Giovanni di Bernardino

a rich, young man, and his conversion.

How he rejected his father and mother.

Threw off his velvet clothes, rolled them into

bundle and placed them at his father's feet and said:

"These belong to you. Take them. We're equals now."

This man became Saint Francis.

Which may I ask is your son's name?

Adso. Why do you ask?

Curiosity.

Do you know him?

No, that I know.

Why did you come so far to meet with that bastard?

When I was a philosopher, I doubted the world had an order.

Now I console to discover if not an order,

at least a series of connections,

in small areas of the world's affairs.

Follow me, if you want to.

- My name is Adso. - I know. Your father told me.

We had been walking for days, from dawn to dusk,

often in silence.

We were heading north to a famous Benedictine

abbey on a mountain range in Northern Italy.

During our journey, William's mission remained unknown to me.

While we imagined a better world, he told me:

"Blind leaders drive blind people towards the abyss."

_

This idle figure of Christ has a purse at it's waist.

Just to remind people that our Lord did not worship poverty

not even when he was on the cross.

A Church of paupers has no future.

And that's precisely the ruin the damn Franciscans want to drag us to.

Your Holiness, this is not the ruin, according to the Franciscans.

On the contrary, it is just the rebirth of the Church.

In Florence we burned a follower of Dolcino.

The stake!

The stake!

The stake!

I am Brother Bernard Gui, Dominican inquisitor,

entrusted with authority by His Holiness, the Pope,

sentence the prisoner,

a follower of the forbidden sect of Fra Dolcino,

a poisoned fruit of the Franciscan order, to death.

You are the Anti-Christ!

I see God everywhere, but in you, bastard son of Satan!

Dolcino told you when you tried to destroy us!

Saint Francis was just the beginning!

"Penitenziagite!"

William of Baskerville was there as well.

I had to arrange for him to meet with the

heretic before he passed my judgement.

I need him to recant, and you could help me.

Why would you imagine that I have a chance of succeeding?

Well, you are two brothers.

Under the skin.

With a flash of that, grand hypocrisy of his, he said to me...

Why should I judge my brother?

You should know that Baskerville was chosen by the

Emperor to lead the Debate.

_

- What is this? - An astrolabe.

For one to catch heavenly bodies.

It gives us a picture of the sky.

Astronomers and navigators use it to measure

the impair position in the sky of a celestial body,

day or night.

To help us see the visible, and the invisible.

Yes.

She looks hungry.

Here.

Food.

I don't...

Take it.

Merci.

She's from Occitanie.

The king of France is making war with her people

like many others, she is fleeing from her home.

It is useless that we wander like a flock of sheep.

Three or four of you, you take that path

and the others...

May your day be blessed, brother Franciscan.

And yours as well, young brother.

I'm the cellarer of the abbey. We are looking for...

Thank you for interrupting your search, brother.

The horse came this way, took the trail to the right.

- It will not get far. - Have you seen it?

We haven't seen him at all. Have we, Adso?

But if you are searching for Brunelus,

the horse can be only be were I said.

Brunellus. How do you know his name?

Come, come. It's obvious. You're hunting for Brunellus,

the abbot's favorite horse.

15 hands, with a dark coat, full tail, small and rounded hoofs,

and a very steady gait, a small head, choppy ears, big eyes.

It went to the right. Now hurry, you should continue your search.

Haven't we met somewhere before, brother?

Not that I recall.

There is always a sinful pleasure

in being proved right. How I find it?

Come on, Adso. It's not so difficult.

You yourself must have seen the horse's footprints.

He broke off those twigs at about five feet and I found these.

The land on the right hand path leads to the cliffs,

because I saw it in the way up.

And the detailed description of the animal?

I imagined a horse I had not yet seen.

I'm not sure it has those features,

but no doubt the monks really believe it does.

They would be so concerned about the horse

if it was important to the abbot.

So I gave them the ideal features

that a good Benedictine would expect on their master's animal.

What... And wha about the name?

May the Holy Ghost sharpen your mind, son.

What other name could it possibly have?

Brunellus, "brunus".

- Latin. - For brown.

Yes.

Brother!

The abbot will be forever grateful to you, brother.

He loves this horse.

- You're William of Baskerville. - So you do know me.

Not exactly, is that the abbot was speaking about you, you see

He was expecting your visit, but not so soon.

This explains everything.

Our brother Adelmo fell to his death last night.

We still don't know how, nor why he died.

I will call together the whole monastery

after we read the psalms at Sixth.

Brother William of Baskerville is here.

Perhaps, Berengar,

you could prepare the body for the burial?

William of Baskerville.

What an unfortunate time. God has decided to put me through the test.

I was very pleased to know that once you acted as inquisitor

that in numerous cases you decided decided

that the accused were innocent.

Inquisitors often, to demonstrate their zeal,

will arrest a confession at all costs.

Inquisitors can be pulled by the devil.

So I've abandoned that noble activity and now I

concern myself with other delicate questions.

And I would like to deal with the one that is distressing you

if you would speak to me, father.

In the dark hours of last night,

one of our finest illustrators,

Adelmo da Otranto... Well, you have seen.

He likely fell during the snow storm

that blew in so furiously from the west.

God have mercy on him.

Given the battering that his poor body suffered,

determining the precise point from which he had fallen was not easy.

Certainly from one of the windows

that open in rows on the side of the tower.

I see. I see that your problem is the following.

If that unhappy youth, God forbid it, committed suicide

you'd not allowed the body into the church and I believe this

morning you'd have found the windows open.

Whereas you found them closed,

with no sign of water at the foot of any of them.

- Who told you this? - You told me.

If the window had been opened, you'd have inmediately

thought he throwed himself out of it.

From what I could tell from the outside, they are large windows

And windows of that sort, in buildings of this

size, are not usually placed at a man?s height.

So, even if th window had been open,

it would?ve been impossible for the unfortunate

man to lean out and lose his balance. Thus

suicide would have been the only conceivable explanation.

But since you will give him a Christian burial,

the windows must have been closed.

If it was closed,

then obviously the presumed suicide was, on the contrary, pushed

And you are wondering who was capable, I will not say of

pushing him into the abyss,

but of hoisting him to the sill.

This is it.

But how do you know there was no water at the foot of any windows?

'Cause you told me the wind was blowing from the west,

so the water could not be driven against windows

that open to the east.

I've been told about your great intelligence too, brother,

but doesn't do you justice, I see.

It is all just as you have said.

And none commits a murder without a reason.

However perverse.

- Nothing else? - Nothing else I can say to you.

You mean there's nothing else you have the power to say.

Brother William.

Brother William,

please, help me to find Adelmo's assasins before the delegates arrive.

Imagine if the Pope would learn that here, in God's house...

Who has access to the tower at night?

No one. It is absolutely forbidden to everyone.

And who has the key?

The librarians, Malachi of Hildesheim and his assistant Berengar.

May I question the monks?

You may.

May I move freely about the abbey?

I grant you that power.

I must confess that I already had a great desire to visit the library

which is spoken of with admiration at all the abbeys of Christendom.

No. No. I cannot allow you to enter. No one may, no one can.

Even if you manage to enter, this library can protect itself.

It is as invulnerable as the truths it harbors.

And it is cleverly deceptive as the falsehood it protects. It is a maze.

You might enter and then you might never get out of it.

No one but the librarians can enter.

It has always been this way.

In Crete they built a maze that hides a monster.

No monsters in our library, books, only books,

lots of books.

How can I study Adelmo's death if I don't see the place

where the story of the death may have begun?

Brother William,

a man who has described my horse without seeing it,

and the death of Adelmo knowing virtually nothing of the case

should have no difficulties studying

places to which he does not have access.

As you wish. You are wise and you are severe.

If I were ever wise, it was because I know how to be severe.

Why is the Pope sending his people here?

You said something about protecting the Order.

The Order of Saint Francis.

Yes.The Pope's envoys are connected to my business here.

and the very future of the Church.

It's the pig. They're killing a pig.

When I was a little boy, my father made me do it,

I was meant to be a man.

I had to bury a knife in its heart

while I held it down with a knee on its neck.

Made me deaf for days.

There has been a landslide obviously

during the night caused by the storm.

The earth moved, and carried this

poor young man body down below the east tower

where it was found, broken.

The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced

that Adelmo threw himself on his own

free will from the parapet of this walls.

Why is that?

If Adelmo felt from the east tower, he must have got into the library

someone must have struck him.

and then this person must have somehow climbed up to the window

with a lifeless body on his back, opening it

and pitch the helpless monk down.

With my hypothesis,

we need only Adelmo, his possition and some shift of land.

Everything is explained using a fewer number of causes.

Why would he have killed himself?

Was Adelmo disturbed by something?

Why do you ask?

You were his confessor. So you could not

discuss his sins with me, but you could discuss his state of mind.

I am not sure I want to have this

conversation with yuo, brother William.

He may have taken his own life.

Welcome. I am Malachi of Hildesheim,

chief librarian.

It is an honor to meet a man of your distinction.

You have been librarian here for a long time?

30 years.

One is always apointed by one's predecessor

when he becomes an abbot.

The rule is that when an abbot dies,

is the librarian who replaces him.

So you'd be the next abbot.

May God grant our abbot a long life.

Naturally.

The kitchens through there. And here the scriptorium.

Here is the heart of the abbey.

Here recreate the most precious gems of culture in the entire world.

Our books.

Toiling over their work,

you can see translators, copyists, illuminators, miniaturists.

Who instill into the smallest of paintings on a page

the most elaborated and magnificent images.

This is Berengar of Arundel, my assistant.

And here we have Venantius of Salvemec, a famous Greek scholar.

Doing a wonderful work on the great Aristotle.

And he Aymaro, master of copyists.

- How do the monks get to the books? - We have catalogues.

When a monk finds a book there, he asks me or my assistant for it.

Books are arranged by a code known only to the two of us.

Only we are allowed to get through that door.

It is a labyrinth. Anyone enters will be lost.

Benno of Uppsala. He is studying Rhetoric and the Art of Calligraphy.

- Where did Adelmo work? - Down there.

We haven't touched a thing. His desk is just the way he left it.

- Yesterday you saw him leave? - Absolutely. We all did.

- We all ate together. - And in church for evening prayers?

A new invention.

Which can magnify images for those whose sight has grown weak.

Poor Adelmo.

Sometimes he lose himsfelf in his weird imaginations.

I am glad I am blind.

I've not had to witness such stupidity.

Jorge of Burgos,

one of the abbey's most erudite scholars.

You will agree, venerable Jorge,

that not seeing something does not make it disappear.

You're talking to William of Baskerville.

The Franciscan.

So now we will be preaching to the birds,

singing and dancing

to show the sympathy we have for the world.

Adelmo, he took such pleasure into the monsters he painted

that he lost sight of the truth.

The images though they are no true were not mere foolinesses.

God is named for the most distorted things,

alas that's how he shows the truth.

With respect, Jorge, you know that Adelmo did not lost his faith.

While we were talking about this very question, I reminded you that...

I don't know what you're talking about, young man.

Malachia was here too.

Jorge does not remember. He does not remember.

But you do, Berengar.

After all, you pay attention to

any discussion over your dear dear friend.

- Venantius! - We have lost a brother.

He was greatly loved by all of us.

And he was here, as we all are,

to live out his life, praising and glorifying God.

I've always wanted to read Tertulliano's "Apologeticum",

but I've never been able to find it.

It is here. I have it.

- I'd be delighted to find it for you. - I will be terribly grateful.

Boy.

Boy.

Yes?

So you are William of Baskerville's novice?

Could you think of anyone who may had

some kind of grudge against Adelmo?

Not at all. He was a fine young man, with a true passion for his work.

Do not let your master lead you on the wrong road.

Weare living in an age far more frightening

than a miniaturist could imagine.

"Penitenziagite!"

Watch out for the draco

who cometh in the future to gnaw at your soul.

"La muerte � supra nos!"

Pray the Santo Pater.

You like this negromanzia?

"Libero nos a malo" and free us from all sins.

Flesh.

Flesh.

Beautiful? But Salvatore "non stupidus". He likes to...

Penitenziagite! Penitenziagite!

You're student of Rhetoric?

Yes, I am.

I also enjoy studying poetry.

I have read many pagan poets.

- Maybe their words also can be truth. - Well then.

What was said that day when you were discussing about Adelmo's illuminations

to Berengar, Venantius, Malachia and Jorge?

Do I remind you that I am carrying the enquiry by the abbot behest?

Jorge was saying that it is not licit to use ridiculous images

to decorate books that contain the truth

Venantiusspoke about other books and

Jorge became very angry.

- Which books? - I don't remember.

What does matter which books were spoken of?

It matters a big deal because here we are

trying to understand what happened among men

who live among books, with books, for books.

So their words on books are also important.

Yes, it's true. We live for books.

A sweet mission in this world dominated by disorder and decay.

What did they say?

Venantius said that when it comes to these witty riddles,

no one surpases the African poets.

And then?

And then something happened that I didn't quite understand.

Berengar began to laugh.

He said, "If one sought carefully among the Africans,

quite different riddles would be found".

Jorge became very angry and said

that it did not seem wise to take the Africans as models.

And after that?

Malachia came furious,

took Berengar by the cowl, and sent him off to his tasks.

Later I saw Adelmo aproaching Berengar asking him for something.

In the evening the two of them were in the

cloister confabulating. That's all I know.

What did Berengar mean by, "seeking among the Africans"?

I know only one thing.

Anyone leafing through the catalogue of books will often find,

among the classifications that unfortunately only the librarian understands,

one that says, "Africa".

I have even found one that says "Finis Africae"

the end of Africa.

That is what I know.

This is why I say: Check on Berengar.

Franciscano's William dangerous! "Je ne l'aime pas, mala bestia est."

I know.

- You must tell him nothing. - Nothing.

We Italians are victims of foreigners in here.

They are all led by Malachia and Berengar.

Now they even started murdering us. Here in the snake pit.

What did he want?

To introduce himself.

In much speaking, you will not escape sinning.

Death and life are in the power of the tongue.

I did place a restraint to my mouth

and made myself mute.

Why did such a famous Franciscan choose you?

Could it be that a fresh young boy

has something to give back in return for his knowledge?

Shame on you only for thinking that.

_

I've sent too weak a delegation to face the Franciscans in Debate.

I've just learnt that William of Baskerville has arrived at the abbey

even before the Franciscan General.

- Is your delegation already there? - Not yet.

Call it back then.

I can't. I made an agreement with the emperor.

- The Debate must take place. - Can we trust the abbot?

I would hope so. They say Baskerville has his charm.

Charm is not a virtue.

Don't forget that like every pure bred Franciscan,

he hates you.

The violence of the Dispute has endangered the unity of the Church.

On the one hand there is the emperor against the Pope,

on the other hand, the Pope against the Franciscans

who had espoused the Spirituals'

theories about the poverty of Christ.

Why does the Pope want to destroy the Order of Saint Francis?

Because we think that the Church,

and more importantly the Pope who governs it,

should imitate the life of Christ.

Isn't that what every believer should hope for?

It should be.

And I will do my best to make it be.

Cause I have been entrusted to present

imperial theologians' point of view.

And what happens if you lose the Debate?

I never lose a debate.

Never?

I cannot even think of losing this Debate.

It would mean that I'd be the last pope in history worthy of this title.

I may have been naive once, and underestimated my enemy.

However, this blunder will be remedied.

You, Bernard, will leave

inmediately for the abbey where you'll lead my delegation.

I am honored, Holiness.

I'm giving you and armed escort.

My nephew, Cardinal di Pouget, will join you there.

He's the man who has wiped away the smiles of the

faces from those damned Italians.

Traitors, everyione of them.

The purpose of this conference

is to exterminate the Franciscan Order,

once and for all.

Lord, I beg You with all my heart.

If I don't find find joy anymore in Your law,

should die of sadness.

Come with me! Everyone! Hurry!

Pull him out of there! Now! Quickly!

- Another corpse. - Who can it be?

Drowned.

My God! It's Venantius!

Venantius...

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