Original subtitles

Previously...

We were in Scotland on our second honeymoon.

This is a pattern I've not seen before.

The marriage line's divided.

The life line's forked.

Where will we be watching the spectacle?

There is a place called Craigh Na Dun.

There is a local group who used to observe rituals there.

- You're not Frank. - No, madam, I am not.

- What's your name? - Claire Beauchamp.

I'm a nurse.

Thank you, Sassenach. Truly.

As much as my rational mind rebelled against the idea,

I knew in my heart I was no longer in the 20th century.

The last time I was here,

Frank and I simply took the car.

But after spending two days and nights

jolting along on a horse,

I knew I'd never find my way back,

not unless I convinced these people

to help me in some way.

Dougal, you're back early, man.

We hadna thought to see ye before the gathering.

Aye, well, we've had some luck

some good, some bad.

Rupert, ye great fat fart,

what have you done to my Peggy now?

Did I not tell you to tighten her girth?

Let me be, old rat.

I been riding all night, and I don't need you

squalling in my ear.

Did ye never even look at her hooves?

You canna expect any beast to carry around

something that weighs as much as you

without taking care of the poor creature's feet.

Like a cow riding a mouse.

Shut yer hole.

Rupert, m'dear!

How good to see ye!

Oh, my dear.

Mwah!

Ye'll all be needing breakfast, I reckon.

Plenty in the kitchen.

Away in, and feed yerselves.

Murtagh, you look and smell

like a rat that's been dragged through sheep dung.

Gi' us a kiss, then.

Oh, no! A kiss, then!

And what do we have here?

Claire Beauchamp, Mistress Fitzgibbons.

Murtagh found her,

and Dougal said we must bring her along with us, so...

So.

Well...

Claire.

Come with me.

We shall find you something to eat,

something to wear that's a bit more...

Well, a bit more.

Well, what about him?

I can fend for myself.

No, you're hurt. He was shot yesterday.

- I'll be fine. - No, you won't.

I bandaged his shoulder,

but I wasn't able to clean it or dress it properly.

I must tend to it before it gets infected.

I mean, inflamed.

You know, with... with fever and swelling.

Oh, aye.

I ken fine what ye mean.

But do you mean to say you know what to do for that?

Are ye a charmer, then?

A Beaton?

Something like that.

Jamie.

Ye heard the lady.

Ye need tending.

This way.

Let's get you out of the rain.

As you asked, garlic and witch hazel to boil the rags.

I also brought you comfrey and cherry bark for the pain.

Perfect.

Call out if you need anything else.

I will. Thank you, Ms. Fitzgibbons.

Everybody calls me Mrs. Fitz.

You may also.

The Redcoats.

Flogged me twice in the space of a week.

They'd have done it twice the same day, I expect,

were they not afraid of killing me.

There's no joy in flogging a dead man.

I shouldn't think anyone would do such a thing for joy.

Hmph, well,

If Randall was not precisely joyous,

he was at least very pleased with himself.

Clumsy. It'll have to be boiled again.

Why were you flogged?

Hmm, well, the first time was escaping Fort William.

And the second was theft.

Or at least, that's what the charge sheet read.

Why were you escaping in the first place?

They were holding me prisoner.

I gathered that.

Why? On what charge?

Oh, that. I think it was, um...

obstruction.

Obstruction? What's that?

It doesn't sound like a serious crime.

Ah, well,

I suppose it's whatever the English say it is.

Aye, it was near to four years ago now.

They put a levy on all the land-holders in the county,

sent out small parties of soldiers

collecting food, horses for transport, and suchlike.

Aye, it was one day in October,

Captain Randall came along to our place.

My father was away.

He'd gone to a funeral.

I was up in the fields when I heard shouting.

No!

No, no!

Jenny!

Jenny, run!

Consider yourself carefully.

I surrender to you, sir.

Now... now let my sister be.

Your sister?

That's interesting.

Shh.

She's, uh, she's bonny.

I'll take a closer look.

No!

No!

No!

Bring his head up.

He wanted to send a message.

This is what you get when you fight back

against the English.

Mm.

Ah.

You care to see more?

Or would you rather go into the house and offer me

better entertainment?

Don't go with him.

Even if he slits my throat right before your eyes.

So...

She went with him.

She thought he'd kill me, and, ah...

perhaps she was right.

After that, I dinna ken what happened.

When I woke up, I was trussed up in the wagon

with the chickens, jolting down the road to Fort William.

I'm so sorry.

That must have been terrible for you.

Oh, aye.

Chickens are very poor company.

- Mm. - Don't do that.

I'm going to strap that arm to your side.

Hmph.

Just hold still.

Hmm.

You're a kind woman with a good touch.

Your husband is a lucky man.

My husband.

What was Frank going through?

His wife disappears without a trace,

without a word, without explanation.

Fears would prey on him.

Perhaps I was abducted. Perhaps I was dead.

Claire?

Perhaps, worst of all,

I had left him for another man.

Mrs. Randall?

Claire!

Mistress.

Mrs. Beauchamp, what's wrong?

I'm fine.

I was just thinking about my husband.

Oh.

Lass...

Is he not alive?

No, actually.

He's not alive.

Shh.

Shh.

Therhh. Do not cry.

No, shh.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.

You need not be scared of me.

Nor anyone else here,

so long as I'm with ye.

When you're not with me?

Just never forget that you're English

in a place where that's not a pretty thing to be.

Thank you, I will.

Watch yourself.

Now, you sleep a bit.

You're worn out.

Likely someone will want to speak to you before too long.

I suppose you're right.

You must get up now! Come along!

Up with ye!

You slept the whole day. 'Tis near 5:00.

I've some hot broth for ye by the fire.

Rouse yourself.

Thank you.

Come along.

What kind of corset is that?

Um, it's a brassi�re.

It's from France.

Oh.

Good and tight.

There.

Now you're ready to be taken to himself.

Wait here.

If I was going to survive,

I needed to acclimatize myself as quickly as possible.

I knew where I was, but when?

From the clothes and weapons alone,

I knew it was most likely the 18th century.

1743.

Scotland is definitely part of Great Britain.

I see you've met some of my friends.

Forgive me for helping myself.

Some old comrades...

some new acquaintances

yet to make their secrets known...

but all friends nonetheless.

I welcome ye, mistress.

My name is Colum Ban Campbell Mackenzie,

Laird of this castle.

Please.

Seventeen forty-three,

decades before the American revolution.

England and France are at war again.

One of the Hanover kings is on the throne.

But which one?

It was my understanding

that my brother and his men found you

in some apparent distress.

"Apparent"?

I was attacked and nearly raped by one of the soldiers

of King George II.

And other than this, uh, this near rape,

you suffered no further molestation?

No.

Please extend my gratitude to your brother

for his kind escort.

I will, of course, need to arrange transport

back to Inverness as soon as possible.

I'm sure something can be arranged.

But I do myself wish to know

how exactly a lady such as yourself

came to be wandering about in the woods,

dressed in nothing but her shift.

It's interesting.

I took a course in withstanding interrogation

as part of officer training,

and the basic principle was

that you stick to the truth

as much as humanly possible,

only altering those details that have to be kept secret.

I am a widowed lady from Oxfordshire.

I was traveling with a manservant

to distant relatives in France,

and we were set upon by highwaymen.

While I managed to escape the bandits,

I was forced to abandon my horse and property.

While wandering through the woods,

I was suddenly attacked by Captain Jack Randall.

I believe you know of him.

It was during this unpleasant encounter

that I was relieved of my clothes.

It's true that Captain Randall

has a certain reputation.

But he is an officer. A gentleman.

Hmm.

And you're saying that a man bearing the king's commission

decided to rape a stray lady traveler

he came upon in the woods,

for no good reason.

Is there ever a good reason for rape,

Master Mackenzie?

I beg your forgiveness, madam.

An unfortunate turn of phrase on my part.

Not at all.

I believe we were discussing my transport

back to Inverness.

Aye.

A tinker by the name of Sean Petrie,

he will be here Saturday next.

He stops at Leoch on his way to Inverness

once a month,

and he often has room for one or two passengers.

Saturday next? Forgive me.

I've lost track in all the confusion.

Oh, not at all. Five days from now.

Meanwhile...

I offer you the hospitality of our humble home.

Thank you.

Five days.

Five days, and I would be back on the road to Inverness,

and then back to the stones atop Craigh Na Dun,

and hopefully back home.

I did know something of this era

the politics, the people, their dress.

Even some of their customs and colloquialisms were familiar.

But it was all secondhand knowledge,

acquired from books, museums, paintings.

It was like landing on an alien world

you'd only glimpsed through a telescope.

Aye, lads.

Well, two against one, hey? That's not fair.

How about two against two?

Where you going?

What about you? One on one, come on, Hamish.

Show us your moves.

Oh, that's it, good lad.

Oh, very good.

Oh, very quick. Oh!

Oh, come on. Oh!

Oh, no, no, you wouldna kill an unarmed...

Man! Oh, no!

But he's not dead!

Ah, I've got ye! I've got ye!

Aah!

But then you begin to wonder

if maybe life on this alien world

is not so different after all.

Allow me.

Thank you.

May I present my wife, Letitia?

Letitia, Mrs. Claire Beauchamp,

an English lady of Oxfordshire.

A pleasure to meet ye.

The pleasure's mine.

I trust Mrs. Fitzgibbons

found you comfortable lodgings?

Very. She's a wonder.

The wonder is how she manages to bake

bannocks such as these with the poor ovens

we have in the kitchens.

Why "Beech-ham"?

I beg your pardon?

I was wondering why

you call yourself Claire "Beech-ham."

It's my name.

Aye, but if your family hail from France,

would it not be more properly

"Bo-cham"?

Well,

the ties we have to France are old,

but not close.

At some point, I suspect an ancestor

decided to adopt the English style.

And what part of France do your folk come from, exactly?

The relatives I have are from the north,

near Compi�gne.

Compi�gne.

I trust Mr. Mactavish is feeling better.

Mr. Mactavish?

She means young Jamie.

Jamie? Why?

Whatever is the matter with the lad?

Naught but a scratch, my dear.

Where is he, though, Dougal?

I sent him to the stables

to help auld Alec with the horses.

The stables?

Best place for him under the circumstances.

Dinna want him inside the walls.

But it's yours to choose,

if you don't agree with my orders.

I reckon he'll do well enough there.

Bring us a bottle of the Rhenish.

Oh, now, you won't find this in Oxfordshire.

Are ye bound for Compi�gne, then?

Compi�gne, uh, yes.

Ahh. It's a lovely city, wouldn't you agree?

In truth, I... I wouldn't know,

having never been there myself.

First visit?

Yes.

And will you be staying with family?

Distant family.

Never met them?

No. But I look forward to it, though.

A joyous occasion, I imagine.

One can only hope.

Hello.

My name is Claire.

Go on, then. Give her your name.

Hamish.

Oh, it's a pleasure to meet you, Hamish.

I saw you playing earlier today in the courtyard

with your father.

With my father?

Yes, surely you remember, Dougal.

You were swinging him around.

I'm sorry, I...

appear to have made an error.

I'm the son and heir of Colum Mackenzie.

Indeed you are.

I'm afraid the rigors of the past few days

have been catching up with me.

If you'll excuse me, I...

think I shall retire early tonight.

A good night to ye, then...

Mrs. "Beech-ham."

Frank would have laughed and said I fell

for the oldest trick in the book

ply the subject with food and drink,

but all the while continuing the interrogation.

I would have to be more careful if I were to survive

the next five days.

You missed breakfast.

Still some porridge.

Warm it for ye?

No.

I, uh, I was thinking I should change the bandage

on Mr. Mactavish's shoulder.

Jamie.

Where would I find the stables?

Top of the meadow.

To the east.

Good.

Come on.

Whoa.

I'm so sorry about that.

She's just a girl with spirit is all.

That's always a good thing.

What can I do for you, Mistress Beauchamp?

It's what I can do for you.

Some fresh bandages and some lunch.

Aye.

Quite the appetite.

I should think you'd eat grass if there was nothing else.

I have.

Doesna taste bad, but it's not very filling.

You've actually eaten grass?

The winter.

Year before last.

I was living rough, you know,

in the woods wi' a group of lads, raiding cattle.

We'd had poor luck for a week and more

and no food amongst us left.

One might ask why you were raiding cattle

and living the life of a thief

instead of tending to your own farm.

There was a price on my head.

10 pounds sterling.

A farmer's whole year in these parts.

Seems excessive for a single escaped prisoner.

No, not for escape.

For murder.

But I didn't actually kill the man I'm wanted for.

You're a very complicated man, Mr. Mactavish.

Nay.

Nay, it's a simple story, really.

I told you what happened to me at Fort William.

I could hardly move for a day or two

after I'd been flogged the second time.

And I had fever from the wounds.

Once I could stand again, though, some

some friends made shift to get me out of the camp

by means I'd best not go into.

And there was some ruckus as we left,

and a Redcoat was shot.

Not by you.

To tell you the truth,

I was too weak to do more than hang onto the horse.

Four years ago now.

More like an old dream, but...

there it is.

I take it your real name's not Mr. Mactavish.

No.

No, it's not.

A nom de guerre, as it were.

If you like.

You know, it's valuable information, that.

You know, I...

I doubt there are informers in the castle itself,

but, you know, there might be some

about the countryside be glad enough

to earn a few pennies by letting the English know

where I was,

Did they know I as a wanted man.

Does Colum know?

That I'm an outlaw?

Aye, aye, Colum knows.

And Dougal.

But they're uncles on my mother's side.

Now I know.

Why did you tell me?

You asked.

That's no answer.

You could have lied

or told me it was none of my business.

Well, I suppose I could have.

Didn't think of that.

Decided to trust ye instead.

Are you done stuffing your face while the horses run wild?

And when will that colt be broken?

None the sooner for starving myself, [speaks Gaelic].

I best be returning to work.

Thank you for the food and the, uh...

Just try not to get flogged or stabbed today.

That'll be thanks enough.

No promises, Sassenach.

Are you following me?

You are. Why?

You could at least do me the courtesy of an answer.

Did Colum tell you to follow me?

Nah.

Dougal, then?

Ken, for a woman, you do ask a fair amount of questions.

So I've been told.

Well, I have nae answers for ye.

I am but Dougal's eyes, not his head.

But let me warn ye, mistress:

these eyes won't be turning their gaze from ye

until the head orders me to.

Pfft.

It could be worse.

I'll be sharing guard duty with Angus,

and you'll not be finding him as charming as myself.

He's in his cups more than out of them.

A fornicator of women

and a shagger of wee beasties

when there's no women to be found.

So I suggest you enjoy me while you can,

because you'll be yearning for me when you feel

the foul breath of that mad bastard

on the back of your neck.

Lovely.

Lucky for you, he prefers female creatures

with the tang of the farmyard aboot them.

Then I'll remember to bathe regularly.

Aye, he wouldna ken what to make of that.

Well, clearly, you suspect me of something,

or you wouldn't have people watching me.

Perhaps you'd be so kind as to give me

a notion of your suspicions, or is that too much to...

I suspect you may be an English spy.

A spy? Me?

Ye have no told the truth about who and what you are.

Of that I'm sure.

And until I am sure of ye,

I'll have you watched day and night.

Now you ken my mind.

Very well.

But I think you'll find I'll be doing

very little of interest over the next four days.

I do hope your spies give you a full report.

Four days?

Yes.

I leave with Mr. Petrie on Saturday.

Forgive me. I would've thought

your brother would have told you that.

Perhaps you don't ken his mind.

For the next few days,

I determined to maintain a simple routine,

both to keep my mind occupied while I awaited

the tinker's arrival

and to give Dougal's men nothing

of the slightest interest to report.

Mrs. Fitz put me to work

helping to harvest food for the kitchen.

I found a quiet sense of pleasure

in touching growing things once more,

felt the satisfaction of helping them thrive.

Those kind are poison.

Oh!

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh.

I imagine it was funny

from over there.

Thanks for the warning, though,

but I do know those mushrooms are poisonous.

Who is it you're planning to do away with?

Your husband, perhaps?

Tell me if it works, and I'll try it on mine.

Actually...

now, while the caps of these mushrooms are poisonous,

you can make a powder out of the dried fungi.

It's very effective in stopping bleeding

when applied topically.

Fancy that.

My name is Geillis. Geillis Duncan.

I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself.

My name is...

I know who you are, Claire.

The village has been humming with talk of ye

since you came to the castle.

What is it they're saying about me?

That you're likely a Sassenach spy.

You know,

those will start bleeding

to get rid of a child you don't want.

Brings on your flux.

But only if you use it early.

Too late, and it can kill you

as well as the child.

The girls in the village come to me every now and again

for such things.

They say I'm a witch.

Are you?

Hardly.

Although I am aware of how wood betony

can transform toads into pigeons.

You should come visit me sometime

down in the village.

I have a cabinet full of potions and medicinals

I wager would tickle yer fancy.

But I hope I'll see you tonight at the hall.

The hall?

After a week's observation,

I diagnosed Colum's condition

as Toulouse-Lautrec syndrome.

Named for its most famous sufferer

who did not yet exist, I reminded myself,

it was a degenerative disease of bone

and connective tissue.

Lautrec died at age 38.

And given the state of medicine in the 18th century,

Colum Mackenzie was most certainly

living on borrowed time.

Masters William Talbot

and Fingal Duncan, will ye stand forth?

They're neighbors.

Having a dispute over a cow.

A cow?

He sayswell, let me see.

It's all right.

I have the feeling something would be lost in translation.

Kyle Ferguson, step forward and present yourself.

They're fighting over some property.

Her father accuses her of loose behavior.

Her father wishes the Mackenzie to have her

punished for disobedience.

No.

He's offering to take the girl's punishment.

What?

But he's still injured.

They're arguing it now.

He allows it.

He chooses fists. Fists?

Rather than the strap.

If ye'd wanted a beating,

I'd been happy to oblige ye.

Aye, but...

you might have done some real damage.

Watch yourself, laddie.

Your uncle is up to something.

How long must this go on for?

Only until blood's drawn.

Usually when their nose is broken.

This is barbarous.

Claire, stay here.

This way is quicker, and you'll stir less gossip.

Here.

Why did you do that?

Take that girl's punishment?

Do you know her?

Ken who she is.

Haven't really spoken to her, though.

Then why?

It would have shamed the lass

to have been beaten in the hall

before everyone that knows her.

Taken a long time to get over it.

It's easier for me.

I'm sore, but I'm nae really damaged.

I'll get over it in a couple days.

Oh, here ye are, lad.

Rinse your mouth with this.

It'll cleanse the cuts and ease the pain.

Willow bark tea,

with a bit of ground orris root.

Ground up well.

Top of life.

What you did was kindly meant, lad.

Laoghaire is my granddaughter, ye ken?

Take that bandage off your shoulder in the next two days.

Would it not be easier if you did that?

Yes, but I'll be gone.

I'm leaving with Mr. Petrie tomorrow.

I see.

Well...

Then perhaps this is good-bye.

Yes.

I think someone would like to speak with you, alone.

Aye.

Well, good-bye to you, then, Jamie.

Safe journeys to ye, Claire.

The bannocks should last a day or two,

and the cheese will keep for a week.

You've been too kind, Mrs. Fitzgibbons.

I can't thank you enough.

Think nothing o' it, lass.

Safe journey to ye.

Colum wishes to see ye.

Why?

It doesna matter why.

All right.

I'll be back in a minute.

Come on.

Three, two, one.

Something wrong?

No.

Good day to ye, Mrs. Beauchamp.

Good day.

Ye have no connections

with clan Beaton, have ye?

The Beatons? No.

The healers of clan Beaton are famous

through The Highlands.

We had one here,

until he caught a fever which carried him off

within a week.

Davie Beaton was his name.

And this was his surgery, he called it.

Really?

All this...

and no one to share it with?

I understand you have quite some skill

as a healer yourself.

It's an interest of mine, yes.

You know the uses of these potions and things?

Some.

This is all really fascinating.

Thank you for showing me.

But I... I must be going.

Seeing as we have not had a healer

since Davie passed,

I want you to take up the work.

But I'm leaving.

No. You're staying.

What did Dougal say to you?

Did one of his thugs make up lies about me?

My brother keeps his own counsel on you.

This is my decision.

Then why am I staying?

Because it is my pleasure that you do so.

Because you think I'm a spy.

Surely you don't believe that.

I believe that you have secrets, Claire.

Now, maybe they're the kind of secrets

that every woman has,

which pose no threat to me, to Leoch,

or to clan Mackenzie.

But until I know for sure,

you will remain here...

as my guest.

You mean as your prisoner, don't you?

Only if you try to leave.

Synced and corrected by retrojex and chamallow - www.addic7ed.com -