Original subtitles

I saw your plough.

I too am a Saxon.

I am sorry!

Can I not do something to help? � No.

To make amends, anything...

Your husband?

Where is he, then?

He went hunting.

Should have been back.

So you�re alone? � Merely until he comes back.

Why don�t you go back to your own people?

Why don�t you?

I�m a wanderer.

What�s his name, your husband?

Rulf.

Are you sure he went hunting?

Rulf dug that grave.

Buried his brother there.

Since his brother was killed, he�s not raised his axe,

save for felling trees. That�s why we�re here.

Our own people turned us out because Rulf refused to fight.

How long since Rulf left you?

A season.

Come on, ox.

Back to the stall.

Celt.

You eat like a Celt.

But you drink like a Saxon.

And work like an ox.

Do you think, because Rulf is away,

I will succumb to you so easily?

Yes.

You�ve ploughed the field for me, now you expect to get paid.

Yes.

You�re afraid.

I�m afraid that the Celts have killed him.

Hey! Ox!

All that ploughing tired me.

But this morning I feel refreshed.

First you must eat and drink.

Then? � And then,

when you�ve done the harrowing, we could start sowing.

Harrowing? � Oh, it�s far lighter than the plough.

We have seed corn. I�ll show you.

Oh!

I cannot help you any more.

I must move on.

I�ve no choice.

I�m no farmer, but... I�d like to stay.

I want to protect you.

God�s teeth, you...

There�s something I have to do.

When it�s done, I...

Why must you go?

Freya, you know of me.

I�m the Saxon who rides with Arthur.

Liar! � No.

I�m riding to fetch arms for him now.

Arms to kill Saxons? Traitor!

Greetings.

The same.

A fair piece of work.

Fair?

You won�t find a better-forged blade if you travel this land from now till the snows come.

Then you are the best man to supply our needs. Swords.

I sell swords for gold.

Arthur is forging an army, but not for gold.

And Arthur. How�s Arthur?

He is well.

For a bear? � A Saxon.

A Saxon? Why would you cage him?

I would roast him.

Good.

But if we have no gold... � Then you have no arms.

The foundry can be taken.

But can it be worked?

Can you smelt, cast, forge, temper?

He�s a Saxon spy you would roast in that cage of yours?

What else?

A man of peace.

He claims he was turned out by his own people because he would not fight.

You are of his blood, are you not?

Your powers of observation, Kyn, are incredible.

Saxon blood, but of Celt persuasion...

Why not put me in there with him?

In the cage? To roast? A pleasure.

In the hut where you hold him prisoner.

What for? To comfort your Saxon brother, perhaps?

Prepare him for his ordeal?

He could have valuable information.

The position of these Saxon encampments that we know are threatening your territory.

Could be of use to me.

Are you saying that you don�t want to escape?

I am saying, that I will not fight and kill.

Ah, I do not understand you.

Nor have you made the effort to.

I dug his grave with my own hands.

Then I looked at my brother for the last time.

The scar from the axe still a...

line of dried, red blood across his chest.

We�ve all lost someone we loved in battle.

It hurts for a while.

He did not die in battle.

He... he died of a... a blind rage that overcame me.

We quarrelled, we fought.

And suddenly he was lying at my feet,

the blooded axe still in my grasp.

Never again can I raise my hand in anger against another man.

I must escape. Do you understand?

I must.

Would you not help someone of your own blood?

I will help, if I can.

Guard!

That man has a dagger concealed in his tunic.

Come!

So. Two for the cage.

One a Saxon spy, the other a traitor to the Celts.

Instead of swords,

we�ll send Arthur a different kind of present.

So. You will fight.

Let no man here say we are not civilised.

You are gladiators and will provide our sport.

Whichever survives will work for me

in chains at the forge fire.

You will not fight? The cage.

Take your positions at four paces.

I�ll burn the victor either way.

Now, when I drop my sword.

God�s breath, man, fight!

Never.

Do you want to make a murderer of me?

The strike �twixt jaw and shoulder, �tis the gentlest.

The gentlest? What�s he talking about?

Fight, you peasant, fight!

Before God I�ll roast you alive!

This is nothing. Put him in the cage!

No, wait!

I understand this man.

You will have your sport.

Just give me time.

Fight, you�ve still got a chance.

I shall kill you. But before Mordant deals with me,

I shall tell him where your homestead is.

And your wife Freya.

What was..? � Freya.

What was that?

What do you know of her?

Oh, I know Freya very well.

No one could know her better.

Easy, you dolt!

Before God, no man touches my wife!

Get him!

God�s blood!

It�ll take them a day or two to find the horses.

We are not yet finished!

Don�t you understand?

I had to make you fight.

God defend me, I didn�t touch her.

Liar!

As God is my witness,

you shall die. Fight!

I will not fight. I have no quarrel with you.

Then you will have me kill you in cold blood.

You know this man?

Yes.

You may thank him for my life.

I do thank him.

He made me fight. � I thank him for that too.

Do you have anything else to thank him for?

I don�t think so.

D�you think you can live in our time

without defending your wife and your homestead?

You would depend on others to defend you?

There are people of war, and people of the plough.

What if you had children?

Would you plough whilst their lives were in danger?

I would want to be a man who

never again took up a sword,

never again struck a deadly blow and took away a life given by God.

But I have a weakness inside me that would make me sin,

that troublesome temper that will flare up and...

however hard I pray, it sometimes gets the better of me.

I must leave you now.

Go safely.

Look after this fool of yours.

If you ever need my help,

you will come and seek me out?

That troublesome temper of yours that makes you sin.

Could it be roused for a little honest thievery?

Easy. Easy.

Easy, my darling, come here.

Wait for me.

We�ve got as many arms as we can carry.

I haven�t properly thanked the man who forged them for us.

Their workmanship is magnificent.

This sword is the work of a craftsman. And they�re a gift, you say?

Mordant�s a changed man. You might almost say, reformed.

Yet he wanted no gold?

Not an ounce would he take.

Such a tone comes only from the best-tempered metal.

I asked you to strike a good bargain,

but I never dreamed...

And he wanted nothing else as payment?

No favours?

His generosity moves me.

In two days I�m riding out near to his territory.

I will call in Mordant�s camp and thank him personally.

Arthur?

Where would you like to be buried?