Original subtitles

Who are you?

This is Kai, I am called Llud.

Then know this.

I am Benedicta, daughter of Caius Camillus, Princess of Rome.

Rome...

I was returning there from Gaul with an escort of soldiers.

Our ship ran into a storm. We were blown off course, and wrecked on the coastline.

I think I�m the only survivor.

How long ago?

Two days.

I was beginning to think this forsaken country was void of human life.

Well. Now you are here. You will be pleased to put yourself at my service.

It will be an honour, Princess.

What you need is a warm fire.

I do not ride horses. Fetch me a chariot.

I fear we have no chariots.

The Romans used them all, running from our spears. Heargh!

And you! Since you seem to be in authority here.

Be kind enough to send some messengers to every coastal town within distance.

I require a boat to take me back to Rome. Immediately.

The next boat to come anywhere close by here is the Greek trader,

and that�s in two months from now.

Two months!

And what am I supposed to do in this pigsty of a village until then?

I�m sure you�ll find that everyone in this pigsty

will do their best to make your stay here as...

pleasant and as comfortable as possible.

Very well. Since there�s no help for it.

I shall need servants, living quarters with heating, facilities for hot water,

fresh clothes, a cook!

And whilst you�re here, enjoying the hospitality of my village,

I must ask you to respect the same conditions as the others.

Conditions? What conditions?

Everyone here must fend for themselves.

I�ll show you your hut.

You expect me to live here?

You Celts are no better than savages.

You can thank the Romans for that. They ruled us for four hundred years.

And in less than two decades, you�ve forgotten everything we�ve taught you.

How to live!

They reserved that for their own kind.

They only taught the Celts how to die.

What time will food be served?

Whenever it pleases you.

And what, in the name of the gods, am I supposed to do with this?

First, you skin it. Then you gather some wood.

You make a fire. Then you cook it.

Or do the civilized Romans not cook their food?

I�ll starve first!

I promise you a Celtic burial with full honours.

You, get that cleaned by the morning.

And you peasant fellow, make yourself useful.

Bring me some refreshment.

And then, perhaps some sweet wine?

And afterwards, a minstrel, to lull you to sleep? A melancholy ballad?

Uh, see to it at once!

You�d make a convincing Roman.

Perhaps even Princess Benedicta could learn from you.

She�d learn better from this.

But she�s lovely.

Do not be deceived by that angel�s face.

Half a chance, and she�d trample us underfoot.

So we�ve decided not to starve, after all?

Hunger is a contemptible weapon.

Didn�t the Romans teach you how to do anything?

First, you cut off the feet.

Then, you slit it down the belly.

My apologies.

It offends our noble Roman stomach, does it?

Good. You see?

You never know what you can do, until you try.

If you want to make a fire, you need wood. Dry wood.

Your Emperor Nero would not have met with such success,

if you�d been assisting him.

My nose tells me that you people are not too familiar with it,

but we have a simple custom in Rome.

It�s called washing. Where are the baths?

Your nose, My Dear Lady,

must first overcome your own odour

before it can reach out and assess that of others.

I regret, in our village, we only have a simple method of bathing.

And it�s this.

Well, first you put in the rest of the meat. Then the carrots.

And then last, you put in the green veg,

�cause they take quickest to cook.

Your friend Benedicta�s cut her hand.

Only her hand?

Just a scratch. But I looked at it for her.

She�s learned from the other women that the best cure for wounds is Cyrus leaves.

Now she wants to travel into the forest looking for them.

You�re not feeling sorry for her?

Not for her, no.

I�m more concerned about the horse.

Here!

My horse!

You did that deliberately!

There�s no way of keeping your dignity when learning how to ride.

Don�t hold onto the reins, there�s no support there.

What you need to learn is balance.

Stay off its neck.

Horses take your weight best where you sit.

So sit straight.

You can judge a man by what he finds humorous.

Why should a man charge about the countryside on horseback,

when he can relax before a good fire, and drink mead?

Well, you know Arthur.

It�s in his blood to help others.

His only thought�s to teach Benedicta to ride.

I remember a time when his only thought was to see her on a boat back to Rome.

Your trees are hostile.

No!

We have a saying.

Wherever we leave a piece of ourselves, we will return.

One day, you�ll come back to this place.

Superstitious Celtic nonsense.

You ignorant savage!

Because I�ve adapted to your way of life, you think I�m one of your own kind.

Well know this.

The only reason I did it was to prove that a daughter of Rome

can master your miserable existence.

I am still a princess of the blood.

And you are still a barbarian.

And never forget it!

My humblest apologies.

I forget myself.

I am a barbarian.

And to prove it,

let me show you how we barbarians really treat our women.

You Celtic peasant.

Where the devil is he?

If he comes clumping in again, in the middle of the night... Ach!

Night and day become a little confused to anyone in in Arthur�s state of mind.

He�s been acting like a lovesick monk for weeks.

Lovesick, yes. Monk, no.

And I can�t blame him for that.

Mmm. If I were twenty years younger...

Aah... To bed before dawn?

You sickening for something?

Best start thinking about where you will build yourself a new hut.

New hut?

Benedicta and I will need this one.

Huh?

Kai?

You must send word to the abbot.

I will need him here as soon as possible.

Abbot?

Llud?

Since Benedicta�s father cannot be present,

you will have to take his place.

You poor fool!

Fool�s right.

And we were all such fools!

For bad wounds, we use this moss.

It takes its strength from the tree.

You Celts are such practical people.

Even your plants are practical.

Doesn�t anything grow for just... prettiness?

Oh yes!

It�s bare now, but in spring, the meadows are red with poppies.

The whole forest is full of flowers.

Foxgloves, campion,

mallow, columbine,

Solomon�s seal, winding around the trees.

The foxglove has a purpose too.

If you boil the leaves... � You�re being practical again.

Now you see this?

This is where a king boar broke from cover last summer.

He came crashing out of here.

There�s a penalty for laughing at the misfortunes of a Celtic chieftain.

Which can only be imposed if the offender is caught.

Benedicta?

That is Arthur. A chieftain of the Celts.

...the rest at Rome.

We have been searching through this land for days and days.

My father will know of your devotion.

�Tis more than our lives were worth, to return to Rome without you.

They say Rome will forgive anything...

except failure.

It may not be what it was in the great days of the empire,

but it is still truly called the City of the Gods, am I not right, Nestor?

It has colour, and beauty.

Charm.

And dignity.

Do you remember the Feast of Apollo?

The marvellous music!

And the coloured statue of Minerva my father gave to the City.

And the flowers along the Aurelian wall.

Arthur! You will love Rome!

As you will love the night air.

Love Rome?

But we live, here.

Here?

But I thought...

I don�t know how it is in Rome,

but here, the woman shares the life with the man.

I want to share your life.

But, Arthur, I am a Roman.

Benedicta. This is my land.

These are my people. I am their leader.

But you have not seen Rome!

You do not know how it will be for us. Arthur...

Rome is a paradise, where we will be treated like gods.

I�ll make you a promise,

that before we�ve sailed one league from these shores,

you�ll have forgotten that this land ever existed.

If you believe that,

then we�ll never have known each other.

Perhaps you�re right.

I took you for a man.

No.

Just a tame barbarian, here to amuse you

until your Roman friends escort you back to civilisation.

Ah!

Is that what concerns you?

You fear that you will feel inferior.

The day I feel inferior to a Roman,

I will cut my throat.

Nestor tells me that the ship has arrived.

We will leave tomorrow, at daybreak.

A fortunate escape, Nestor.

I was near married to a fool.

Can you imagine he expected me to live in this damp, dark, miserable country?

I had to catch rabbits, and skin them myself!

Cut wood for fires. And make my own clothes.

No chariots! Women, expected to ride like hardened cavalrymen!

No baths! The first thing I�m going to do when I return to Rome

is soak in a steaming hot bath.

I�ll say one thing though.

That wine of theirs wasn�t unpalatable.

I thought I saw something.

They told us there might be Picts in the forest.

You stay here. You two, come with me.

You men.

Did you know that for bad wounds, you use moss.

Better than the leaves, because it takes its strength from the tree.

And in the spring, the meadows are red with poppies.

And the forests are full of flowers.

And I really must discover what happens when you boil the leaves of a foxglove.

You fools! Can�t I trust you with anything?

We cannot return to Rome without her! Come on!

Benedicta!

Go away! I order you!

Your father orders me.

His last command was to bring you safely back to Rome.

Well, you can�t stop me!

Arthur! Arthur!

I have nothing to lose by killing you.

Without you, I cannot return.

The older man Llud, he was right.

Rome will forgive anything but failure.

Arthur!

Alright.

I give you my word, I won�t try to escape.

My word as a Roman.

Superstitious Celtic nonsense.

This hut must be cleared out!

Arthur.

Will you ride to the rise above the village?

By the woods, caught in one of the branches of the trees,

a piece of fine, hand-woven fabric.

I took this from the tree, the day Benedicta left.

Then the winds have carried another piece,

from the boat that takes her to Rome. Go and find it!

And then, for the sake of all of us,

stick your head in a butt of wine, for a week.

And emerge, not as a moonstruck calf,

but the man who leads us. Go!

You never lost a leader.

But you might still have to build a new hut for yourself.