All language subtitles for The.Name.of.the.Rose.1986.REMASTERED.BDRip.xLE

Having reached the end
of my poor sinner's life...

my hair now white...

I prepare to leave,
on this parchment, my testimony...

as to the wondrous and terrible events
that I witnessed in my youth...

towards the end of the year
of our Lord, 1327.

May God grant me
the wisdom and grace...

to be the faithful chronicler
of the happenings that took place...

in a remote abbey
in the dark north of Italy.

An abbey whose name
it seems even now...

pious and prudent to omit.

May my hand not tremble
now that I start to relive the past...

and revive the feelings of uneasiness
that oppressed my heart...

as we entered the battlements.

Should we tell him?

No.

He will look in the wrong places.

But...

what if he should learn it
of his own accord?

You overestimate his talents,
my lord abbot.

There is only one authority
capable of investigating such matters.

The Holy Inquisition.

What is your opinion,
Venerable Jorge?

Dear brethren...

I leave such worldly matters
to younger men.

Adso.

- Yes, master?
- In order to command nature...

one must first learn to obey it.

Return to the forecourts,
get the edificium on your left...

enter the quadrangle on your right,
you'll find the place you need.

Behind the third arch.

But you told me
you'd never been to this abbey.

When we arrived, I saw a brother
making for the spot in some haste.

I noticed, however,
that he emerged more slowly...

with an air of contentment.

Thank you, master.

On behalf of the Benedictine order,
I am honored to welcome you...

and your Franciscan brothers
to our abbey.

The other delegates,
they have arrived?

Ubertino de Casale
has been here for some weeks.

The others are due tomorrow.

You must be very tired
after your long journey.

No.

Not particularly.

I trust you're not
in need of anything?

No. Thank you.

Well...

Well, then I bid you peace.

I'm sorry to see one of your brethren
has recently been gathered unto God.

Yes, a terrible loss.

Brother Adelmo was one of
our finest illuminators.

- Not Adelmo of Otranto.
- You knew him?

No, but I knew and admired his work.

His humor and comic images...

were almost infamous.

- But he was said to be a young man.
- Oh, yes.

Yes, very young indeed.

- An accident, no doubt?
- Yes.

Yes, as you say, an accident.

Well, that is, I...

Brother William...

May I speak with you candidly?

You seem most anxious to do so.

When I heard you were
coming to our abbey...

I thought it was an answer
to my prayers.

Here, I said, is a man who has knowledge,
both of the human spirit...

and of the wiles of the evil one.

The fact is, Adelmo's death has caused
much spiritual unease among my flock.

This is my novice, Adso...

the youngest son
of the Baron of Melk.

Please do continue.

We found the body
after a hailstorm...

horribly mutilated, dashed against
a rock at the foot of the tower...

under a window, which was...

How shall I say this?

- Which was...
- Which was found closed.

- Somebody told you.
- Had it been found open...

you would have concluded
that he'd fallen.

Brother William...

the window cannot be opened...

nor was the glass shattered...

nor is there any access
to the roof above.

Oh, I see.

And because you can offer
no natural explanation...

your monks suspect the presence of
a supernatural force within these walls.

That's why I need the counsel...

of an acute man such as you,
Brother William.

Acute in uncovering...

and prudent, if necessary...

in covering up...

before the papal delegates arrive.

Surely you know, my lord,
I no longer deal in such matters.

I am indeed reluctant to burden you
with my dilemma...

but unless I can put
the minds of my flock at rest...

I will have no alternative but to
summon the help of the Inquisition.

Adso!

That is Ubertino de Casale...

one of the great spiritual leaders
of our order.

Come.

Many revere him as a living saint...

but others would have him burned
as a heretic.

His book on the poverty of the clergy
isn't favored reading in papal palaces.

So now he lives in hiding
like an outlaw.

Fellow Franciscans...

you must leave this place at once.

The devil is roaming this abbey.

Ubertino...

It's William.

William of Baskerville.

William...?

No.

No.

William is dead.

William, my son...

forgive me.

We had lost trace of you for so long.

I tried very hard to be forgotten.

When we heard of your troubles...

I prayed to our virgin
for a miracle.

Then your prayers met
with a favorable response.

This is my young novice,
Adso of Melk.

His father has entrusted me
with his education and welfare.

You must get him out of here!

Have you not heard, the devil is hurling
beautiful boys out of windows?

There was something...

feminine...

something diabolical...

about the young one who died.

He had the eyes of a girl...

seeking intercourse with the devil.

Beware of this place.

The beast is still among us.

I can sense him now, here...

within these very walls.

I'm afraid, William...

for you, for me...

for the outcome of this debate.

Oh, my son.

The times we live in.

But let us not frighten...

our young friend here.

She's beautiful, is she not?

When the female...

by nature, so perverse...

becomes sublime by holiness...

then she can be
the noblest vehicle of grace.

- I don't like this place.
- Really?

I find it most stimulating.
Come.

Adso, we must not allow ourselves
to be influenced...

by irrational rumors
of the Antichrist.

Let us instead exercise our brains...

and try to solve
this tantalizing conundrum.

My master trusted Aristotle,
the Greek philosophers...

and the faculties of his own
remarkable, logical intelligence.

Unhappily, my fears were not mere
phantoms of my youthful imagination.

A rather dark end
for such a brilliant illuminator.

Another generous donation
by the church to the poor.

Now, what if it wasn't that tower
that he fell from...

but somewhere over there, and then
the body rolled all the way down here?

Adso?

No devil needed anymore.

Yes. More blood here.

That's where he fell from.
He jumped.

Adso, are you paying attention?

Yes. He jumped.

He jumped? You mean
that he committed suicide?

Yes. Why else would someone go up
there at night in a hailstorm?

- Certainly not to admire the landscape.
- No. Perhaps...

Perhaps someone murdered him.

And then toiled all the way
up there with the body?

Easier to get rid of it through that
sluice gate they pour charity through.

No, no. My dear Adso...

It's elementary.

Suicide.

Do you think that this...

is a place abandoned by God?

Have you ever known a place
where God would have felt at home?

We praise almighty God...

that there are no grounds for
suspecting an evil spirit among us...

either of this world or another.

We praise our Lord that the debate...

which we are
so greatly honored to host...

may now proceed
without a shadow of fear.

We also praise the Almighty for sending
Brother William of Baskerville...

whose experience
in previous duties...

although onerous to him...

has been of such service
to us here.

May serenity and spiritual peace...

reign once more in our hearts.

Master?

If I may ask, what...

onerous duties...

was the abbot talking about?

Were you not always a monk?

Even monks have pasts, Adso.

Now, do try to sleep.

I just...

Yes, master.

The beast...

The virgin...

This one, I grant you,
did not commit suicide.

- Water!
- Here.

I am to blame.

Had I not been so eager to believe
your convenient explanation...

this might have been prevented.

I am absolutely convinced
that Brother Adelmo took his own life.

- Now, whether...
- Then the hail...

Whether this death is connected
in any way with it, I intend to find...

After the hailstorm...

with the second trumpet...

the sea became blood...

and behold...

here is blood.

- The prophecy of the apocalypse!
- The third trumpet.

A burning star...

will fall in fountains of water.

Do not squander!
The last seven days!

Grated stem of waterwort
for treating diarrhea.

And as for onions...

administered in small quantities,
warm and moist...

they help prolong
the male erection...

in those who have not taken
our vows, naturally.

Do you find many circumstances...

in which you apply arsenic,
Brother Severinus?

Yes, indeed. It is a most effective
remedy for nervous disorders...

if taken as a compound
in small doses.

And what of not-so-small doses?

Death.

What was this man's function here?

He was our finest translator of Greek...

entirely devoted
to the works of Aristotle.

Was he on friendly terms
with the handsome young Adelmo?

Oh, indeed so. They worked together
in the scriptorium.

But in a brotherly way,
you understand. Not like...

I mean, flesh can be tempted
according to nature...

or against nature.

And they were not
of the latter disposition...

if you ascertain my meaning.

Watch out for the dracul who cometh
in futurum to gnaw on your anima!

Ugly con Salvatore, eh?

My little brother, penitenziagite.

Penitenziagite.

You said, penitenziagite.
I heard you.

Master?

What language was he speaking?

All languages, and none.

And what was the word
you both kept mentioning?

Penitenziagite.

- What does it mean?
- It means the hunchback, undoubtedly...

was once a heretic.

Penitenziagite was the rallying cry
of the Dolcinites.

Dolcinites?
Who were they, master?

Those who believed
in the poverty of Christ.

So do we Franciscans.

But they also declared
that everyone must be poor.

So they slaughtered the rich.

You see, Adso...

the step between ecstatic vision
and sinful frenzy...

is all too brief.

Well, then, could he not
have killed the translator?

No. No. Fat bishops
and wealthy priests...

were more to the taste
of the Dolcinites.

Hardly a specialist of Aristotle.

But, yes, you're right.
We must keep an open mind.

We are very fortunate to have
such snowy ground here.

It's often the parchment on which the criminal
unwittingly writes his autograph.

Now, what do you read
from these footprints here?

That they are...

- twice as deep as the others.
- Good, Adso.

And thus we may conclude...?

- Well, that the man was very heavy.
- Precisely.

And why was he very heavy?

Because...

- he was very fat?
- Or because he was being burdened...

with the weight of another man.

Let us commit the autograph
of this sole...

to our memory.

But the footprints
lead away from the jar...

in this direction.

Oh, you turnip, Adso.
You're discounting the possibility...

that the man was walking backwards,
dragging the body thus...

Hence, the furrows
created by the heels.

Now, where did the erudite
Greek translator...

meet the anonymous author
of his death?

Brother librarian.

Perhaps you will permit us to examine
the work of the two unfortunates...

so distressingly gathered unto God.

Your request is most unusual.

As are the circumstances
of their deaths.

Brother Adelmo sat there.

Thank you.

A donkey teaching the scriptures
to the bishops.

The pope is a fox.

The abbot is a monkey.

He really had a daring talent...

for comic images.

I trust my words did not offend you,
Brother William...

but I heard persons laughing
at laughable things.

You Franciscans, however,
belong to an order where merriment...

- is viewed with indulgence.
- Yes, it's true.

St. Francis was much disposed
to laughter.

Laughter is a devilish wind...

which deforms the lineaments
of the face...

and makes men look like monkeys.

Monkeys do not laugh.

Laughter is particular to man.

As is sin.

- Christ never laughed.
- Can we be so sure?

There is nothing in the scriptures
to say that he did.

Nothing in the scriptures
says that he did not.

Even the saints have
employed comedy...

to ridicule the enemies of the faith.

For example, when the pagans plunged
St. Maurus into the boiling water...

he complained his bath was too cold.
The sultan put his hand in, scalded it.

A saint immersed in boiling water
does not play childish tricks.

He restrains his cries
and suffers for the truth.

And yet, Aristotle devoted
his second book of Poetics...

to comedy as an instrument of truth.

- You have read this work?
- No, of course not.

- It's been lost for many centuries.
- No, it has not. It was never written.

Because providence doesn't want
futile things glorified.

- Oh, that I must contest...
- Enough!

This abbey's overshadowed by grief...

yet you would intrude
on our sorrow with idle banter!

Forgive me, Venerable Jorge.
My remarks were truly out of place.

- Which was the Greek translator's desk?
- This one.

Come, Adso.

Well, Adso, what did you deduce
from that visit?

That we are not meant
to laugh in there.

But did you notice how few books
there were on the scriptorium shelves?

All those scriveners, copyists,
translators, researchers, thinkers...

But where are the multitude of books
that they need for their work?

And for which this abbey is famed?
Where are the books?

- Are you testing me, master?
- What do you mean?

Well, with all due respect...

it seems that whenever you ask me
a question, you already have the answer.

- Do you know where the books are?
- No.

But I'll wager my faith that that tower
contains something other than air.

Did you notice that little door
the librarian closed as we came in?

- Yes.
- Could that lead to the library?

Master! Master, quick!
I have him!

- Stop! Enough!
- Master, he tried to kill us!

Salvatore!

Please, my lord, don't talk to
the abbot about his past.

He's innocent of the deaths
in this abbey. I swear it.

Brother Remigio.
My price is some information.

I could not comprehend why
my master so quickly dismissed...

my suspicions
of the heretical hunchback...

and why it was so urgent
that we visit the tower.

I assumed he could not resist
the temptation...

to penetrate the library
and look at the books.

No lock. Just as I thought,
it must be bolted from the inside.

How do we get in?

Well, obviously, there must
be another entrance.

Let us see what the moon-faced
assistant librarian...

was trying to conceal from us
this morning, shall we?

Tiny Greek letters, perhaps
written by an ant with inky feet.

Ah, yes.

Written with lemon juice.

Sagittarius.

The sun.

Mercury.

Scorpio.

It's some zodiacal code
giving directions, but to where?

Hey! Who's there?

Who's there?

- My magnifying glasses!
- They were on that book.

You go that way.

Come on out, you little bitch.

I know you are here.
I can smell you.

What's the matter with you, huh?
Are you afraid of me?

I'll find you.

Who was she?

Who was this creature
that rose like the dawn...

was bewitching as the moon,
radiant as the sun...

terrible as an army
poised for battle?

Good evening, Salvatore.

This is where you catch them?

You see, they are più grasso.
Bigger, eh?

You...

You eat them?

You like?

Thank you, no. No.

As you're a good Christian,
you must tell me this.

So Adelmo gave the parchment
to Berengar.

No, no.

To the translo...
The transla...

Translator!
Venantius, the black monk.

- And what happened then?
- Then...

Master! In here, quick.
I found another one.

Where are your wits, boy?
Have you ever met anyone...

with a rib cage large enough to
accommodate a heart of that dimension?

No.

No.

It is the heart of an ox.

One of the monks probably gave it
to that peasant girl...

in exchange for her favors.

Girl? Well, what...?

The one I saw scuttling out of here.

- He must have been a very ugly monk.
- Why ugly?

If he'd been young and beautiful...

she would no doubt have blessed him
with her carnal favors for nothing.

In any event, whatever happened
in this dreadful kitchen...

has no bearing
on our investigations.

Salvatore convinced me that Brother
Berengar, the assistant librarian...

is the key to the whole enigma.
What did you say?

- Nothing, master.
- Good.

Master?

There's something I must tell you.

I know.

Then will you hear my confession?

Well, I'd rather you told me first
as a friend.

Master.

Have you...

ever been...

in love?

In love?
Yeah. Many times.

- You were?
- Yes, of course.

Aristotle, Ovid, Virgil...

No, no, no.
I meant with a...

Are you not confusing love with lust?

Am I?

I don't know.

I want only her own good.

I want her to be happy.

I want to save her from her poverty.

- Oh, dear.
- Why oh, dear?

You are in love.

Is that bad?

For a monk,
it does present certain problems.

But doesn't St. Thomas Aquinas
praise love above all other virtues?

Yes. The love of God, Adso.
The love of God.

And the love of woman?

Of woman, Thomas Aquinas
knew precious little.

But the scriptures are very clear.

Proverbs warns us, woman takes
possession of a man's precious soul.

While Ecclesiastes tells us,
more bitter than death is woman.

Yes, but...

- What do you think, master?
- Well...

Of course, I don't have
the benefit of your experience.

But I find it difficult
to convince myself...

that God would have introduced
such a foul being into creation...

without endowing her
with some virtues.

How peaceful life would be
without love, Adso.

How safe.

How tranquil.

And how dull.

How beautiful.
Lord, you have guided our steps...

to this refuge of spiritual peace...

because you wish for reconciliation
as much as we Franciscans.

- Let us go, brothers.
- Thy will be done, O Lord.

Amen. Amen.

Brother Berengar?

He's probably hiding somewhere...

with the book
and my magnifying glasses.

Brother Berengar.

Master, look. The door.

Brother Malachia. I was just looking
for your assistant, Brother Berengar.

- Is he here?
- No.

Oh, I see.

- Do you know where we might find him?
- No.

- Is he perhaps upstairs in the library?
- No.

I am curious to see
the library for myself.

- May I do so?
- No.

Why not?

It is a strict rule of the abbot
that no one is permitted...

to enter the abbey library
other than myself and my assistant.

I see.

Thank you again.

Maybe something's happened to him.

- Maybe we'll find him in water.
- What?

The third trumpet, master,
as Ubertino said.

- The book of Revelation.
- That is not the book we're after.

You call this chicken, do you?
It looks more like a sparrow.

Welcome to our abbey, Brother Michele,
and to your fellow Franciscan delegates.

Hey, you, paesano! Go!
You get in line like the others. Go!

- Unhand me!
- Salvatore, let him go.

This is Cuthbert of Winchester,
one of our most esteemed Franciscan guests.

Come, Your Grace. We have
a most urgent matter to discuss.

The abbot and his colleagues
seem convinced...

that the devil is at work
within these walls.

He is.

The only evidence
I see of the devil...

is everyone's desire
to see him at work.

What if Ubertino is right and you wrong?

Don't forget this debate
is crucial to us all.

We suspect the pope wants
to crush our order.

Yes, and declare us all heretics.

I only have one brother to question,
and the entire matter is resolved.

William, we place our trust in you.

Pray God you do not abuse it.

Brother William.

Did you find a book in Greek?

No.

I was right.

So was the book of Revelation.

- We must talk at once.
- Indeed, we must.

And I have much to tell.

Just as soon as he and I
have examined this corpse.

Lime leaves in the bath are always
used to alleviate pain.

- He was left-handed.
- Yes, yes.

Brother Berengar was inverted
in many ways.

Are there other left-handed brothers
in the abbey here?

None that I know of.

Ink stains.

He did not write with his tongue,
I presume.

- A few lines of Greek.
- Yes.

Written by Venantius.

Some random notes from the book
he was reading just before he died.

Do you see how
the calligraphy changes?

From this point on, he was dying.

And what, my lord,
do you conclude from that?

A smudge of blue paint.

Yes, but a unique smudge of blue...

blended by your finest illuminator,
Brother Adelmo...

who possessed this parchment
before Venantius.

And how do we know that?
Because those random notes...

overrun Adelmo's blue smudge,
and not vice versa.

Brother William, this abbey is
enshrouded in a terrifying mystery.

Yet I detect nothing
in your obscure dissertation...

that sheds any light upon it.

Light.

Someone was at great pains to conceal
a secret of the first magnitude.

Now, the calligraphy is,
without question, left-handed.

And the only left-handed member
of your community is...

or rather was, Brother Berengar,
the assistant librarian.

Now, what kind of secret knowledge
would he have been privy to?

I have the feeling that
you're about to tell me.

Books. Restricted books.

Spiritually dangerous books.

Everyone here knew of the assistant
librarian's passion for handsome boys.

When the beautiful Adelmo wanted
to read such a forbidden book...

Berengar offered Adelmo
the key to its whereabouts...

enciphered on that parchment...

- in exchange for unnatural caresses.
- Enough, Brother William!

Adelmo agreed and duly submitted
to Berengar's lustful advances.

Afterwards, wracked by remorse,
he wandered...

crying and desperate in the graveyard,
where he met the Greek translator.

- How could you know this?
- There was a witness.

The hunchback...

who saw Adelmo giving
this parchment to Venantius.

Then running towards the small tower
and hurling himself out of the window.

The night of my arrival, while
Berengar punished his sinful flesh...

Venantius, helped by the coded
instructions on the parchment...

made his way into the forbidden
library and found the book.

He took it back to his desk
in the scriptorium and began to read it.

After scribbling down
those few mysterious quotations...

he died with a black stain
on his finger.

The assistant librarian
discovered the body...

and dragged it down to the pigpens
to avert suspicion falling on him.

But he left his autograph behind.

The book remained
on the translator's desk.

Berengar returned there
last night and read it.

Soon after, overcome
by some agonizing pain...

he tried to take a soothing bath
with lime leaves and drowned.

He, too, had a blackened finger.

All three died because
of a book which kills...

or for which men will kill.

I therefore urge you to grant me
access to the library.

Brother William!

Your pride blinds you.

By idolizing reason...

you fail to see what is obvious
to everyone in this abbey.

They have arrived, the papal delegation.
Bernardo Gui...

Thank you, Brother William.

We are mindful of your efforts...

but I should now ask you...

to refrain from
further investigations.

Happily, there will be someone arriving
with the papal delegation...

who is well-versed in the wiles
of the evil one.

A man, I believe, you know
only too well.

Bernardo Gui...

of the Inquisition.

Master.

Who is Bernardo Gui?

William! I've been searching
the entire abbey for you.

Michele wishes to speak
with you at once.

Alone.

- Do you know who is coming?
- I know, I know. Bernardo Gui.

Ubertino must be moved
to a safe place.

The arrangements have been made.
It is you that concerns us, William.

You must now put aside these
totally irrelevant investigations.

- And erroneous conclusions.
- It is the truth, and I am right.

William is right.
William is always right!

No matter what the consequences,
to himself or anyone else...

William of Baskerville
must always prove himself right.

Was it not your vanity,
your stubborn intellectual pride...

that brought you into conflict
with Bernardo before?

Do not tempt fate twice, William.

Even the emperor won't be able to save you
if you tangle with Bernardo again.

My flesh had forgotten the sinful
pleasure that our union had given me...

but my soul could not forget her.

And now...

Now that I saw her in the midst
of her poverty and squalor...

I praised God in my heart
that I was a Franciscan.

I wanted her to know that I did not
belong to this rapacious abbey...

but to an order dedicated to lifting her people
out of their physical destitution...

and spiritual deprivation.

Farewell, William.

You are mad and arrogant...

but I love you and shall never cease
to pray for you.

Goodbye, dear child.

Try not to learn too many
bad examples from your master.

He thinks too much.

Relying always on the deductions
of his head...

instead of trusting
in the prophetic...

capacities of his heart.

Learn to mortify your intelligence.

Weep over the wounds of our Lord!

And do throw away those books!

There is a side of Ubertino
that I truly envy.

Remember, fear the last trumpet,
my friends.

The next will fall from the sky,
and then will come 1000 scorpions.

Yes, yes. We won't forget.

Which one frightens you most?

- They all do.
- No. Look closely.

- That one.
- My choice exactly.

Well...

After you.

Those are the foundations
of the tower.

But how we reach the library...

The rats love parchment
even more than scholars do.

Let's follow him.

166. Bolted scriptorium door.
167, 168, 169, 170.

317, 318...

I knew it!

Adso! I knew it!

Adso, do you realize...

we're in one of the greatest libraries
in the whole of Christendom?

How will we find the book
we're looking for?

In time.

The Beatus of Liébana.

That, Adso, is a masterpiece.

And this is the version annotated
by Umberto de Bologna.

How many more rooms, huh?
How many more books?

No one should be forbidden
to consult these books freely.

Perhaps they are thought to be
too precious, too fragile.

No. It's not that, Adso.

It's because they often contain
a wisdom different from ours...

and ideas that could
encourage us to doubt...

the infallibility
of the word of God.

Master?

And doubt, Adso,
is the enemy of faith.

Master?

Master?

Master!

Wait for me!

But I am waiting for you.

But I can hear you walking.

I'm not walking, Adso.
I'm down here.

Is that you up there?

Where are you, boy?

I'm lost!

Well, Adso...

it would appear
that we're in a labyrinth.

Are you still there?

Yes.

How will we get out?

With some difficulty...

if at all.

You see, Adso,
that is the charm of a labyrinth.

Adso, stay calm.

Open a book and read aloud.

Leave the room you're in
and keep turning left.

Love does not originate
as an illness...

but is transformed into it
when it becomes obsessive.

The Muslim theologian
Ibn Hazm states...

that the lovesick person does
not want to be healed...

and his dreams cause irregular
breathing and quicken the pulse.

He identifies amorous melancholia
with lycanthropy...

a disease that induces
wolf like behavior in its victims.

The lover's outward appearance
begins to change.

Soon his eyesight fails,
his lips shrivel...

his face becomes covered
with pustules and scabs.

Marks resembling the bites of a dog
appear on his face...

and he ends his days
by prowling graveyards...

at night...

like a wolf.

Master, I can see a lantern.

Don't move.
Stay where you are.

I can see a man.
He stopped.

What is he doing?

He's raising his lantern.

How many times?

Three times.

It is I. Raise your lantern.

Look! There!

You foolish boy.

It's only a mirror.

Master!

- The books, boy! Save the books!
- I'm trying to save you!

A trap door and a mirror.
We must be almost there.

If I have deciphered the instructions...

of the Greek translator correctly...

You did not think me so foolish...

as to surrender our parchment
to the abbot without making a copy?

Manus supra idolum, age primum
et septimus de quatuor is what?

With the hand above the idol...

press the first
and the seventh of four.

Very good.

What idol?

That is what we're here to find out.

And the first
and the seventh of four what?

If I had the answers to everything,
I'd be teaching theology in Paris.

And again.

Do you hear that?

- It's my teeth, master.
- What?

My teeth.

Don't be afraid.

I'm not afraid. I'm cold.

Well, we shall return.

Don't leave on my account.

No, no, no. I must confess,
it eludes me for the moment.

Now, let me see...

To find your way out
of the labyrinth...

when you come to a fork, you mark it
with an arrow... No, no, no. No.

Master?

Please, dear boy. I'm thinking.

- If there are arrows at the forks...
- Master!

Well done, boy!

Your classical education
serves us well.

Thank you.

Lucifer, be at my service.

Lord Bernardo,
look what we found!

Search the creature.

My lord abbot, you invited me
to investigate the presence...

of the evil one in your abbey...

And I have already found it.

How many times have I seen
these objects of devil worship.

The black cockerel
and the black cat?

But she did it for the food,
not the devil.

William of Baskerville must
surely recall the trial he presided over...

in which a woman confessed
to having intercourse with a demon...

in the form of a black cat.

I'm very sure that you don't have
to draw on my past experiences...

to formulate your conclusions,
Lord Bernardo.

No, indeed. Not when faced
with such irrefutable evidence.

A witch! A seduced monk!
Satanic rites!

Tomorrow...

we endeavor to learn
if these events are connected...

with the even graver mystery
that afflicts your abbey.

Lock them up that we may all
sleep safely tonight.

You said... You said nothing.

I said nothing...

because there was
nothing to be said.

You're ready enough
to speak the truth...

when it comes to books and ideas.

She is already burnt flesh, Adso.

Bernardo Gui has spoken.
She is a witch.

But that's not true,
and you know it.

I know.

I also know that anyone who disputes
the verdict of an inquisitor...

is guilty of heresy.

You seem to know a lot about it.

Oh, yes.

Won't you tell me...

as a friend?

Well, there's not much to tell.

I too was an inquisitor...

but in the early days, when
the Inquisition strove to guide...

not to punish.

And once I had to preside
at the trial of a man...

whose only crime was to have
translated a Greek book...

that conflicted with
the holy scriptures.

Bernardo Gui wanted him
condemned as a heretic.

I acquitted the man.

Then Bernardo Gui accused me
of heresy for having defended him.

I appealed to the pope.

I was put in prison...

tortured...

and I recanted.

What happened then?

The man was burned at the stake.

And I am still alive.

Brother Salvatore...

these torments will cause me
as much pain as you.

But you can put an end to them
before we even begin.

Open the gates of your heart.
Search the depths of your soul.

Search.

I search!

I search. I search.

Then tell me...

who, among your brethren...

is the heretic responsible
for these murders?

Me don't know nothing.

Did I lie awake that night
suffering for the girl or for myself?

I did not know.

With the dawn
came the envoys of the pope...

our adversaries in
the forthcoming debate.

But it meant so little to me now.

Your Eminence, venerable brothers...

at last we meet
for this long-awaited debate.

We have all journeyed great distances
in order to put an end to the dispute...

that has so gravely impaired
the unity of our Holy Mother Church.

Good people throughout Christendom...

are directing their gaze
at these venerable walls...

anxiously awaiting our answer
to the vexed question...

Did Christ...

or did he not...

own the clothes that he wore?

Beloved brethren
of the Franciscan order.

Our Holy Father, the pope, has authorized me
and these, his faithful servants...

to speak on his behalf.

The question is not
whether Christ was poor...

but whether the church
should be poor.

You Franciscans wish to see the clergy
renounce its possessions...

and surrender its riches...

the abbeys dissipate
their sacred treasures...

and hand over their fertile acres
to the serfs...

I found the book.

I found it in the dispensary.

A book in Greek was hidden
behind one of my jars.

Don't touch it.

Return. Lock yourself inside.

I'll be there just as soon as I can.

Thereby depriving
the church of the resources needed...

to combat unbelievers
and wage war on the infidel.

You forget that even
the greatest monument to our Lord...

is but a pale reflection
of his infinite majesty and glory...

far outstripping the church...

Quick, Father, quick.

Salvatore has confessed
to his radical past, and yours.

You have but little time
to escape the flames.

Thank you, brother.

- Where are you going?
- Let me go. I'm the cellarer.

Come with us!

You call the pope's brothel
God's palace on earth?

Answer that!

They are a sign that reconciliation...

The gospels state categorically
that Christ possessed a purse.

That is a lie! You know it!

The Lord commanded his disciples on
no less than seven occasions.

- Carry neither gold...
- Venerable brothers!

Brethren, if you please!

A matter has occurred
of the utmost gravity.

Let me go!
I swear, I didn't kill him!

I was at the granary
taking the inventory!

I never killed anyone!
I swear it!

Then explain to us
the purpose of your escape.

I was...

I had already ordered
your arrest on other charges.

I see now that I was correct.

Had someone else not chosen
to look in the wrong direction...

several men of God
might still be with us.

To use vulgar persons.

Take pleasure from their defects.

Please, dear boy.
I am trying to think!

So am I, master. So am I!

Then try using your head
instead of your heart...

and we might make
some progress.

A book's more important
than people to you?

Did I say that they were?

You never seem to care about anyone.

Couldn't you at least show
a little pity?

Perhaps that is the style
of my pity.

But pity won't save her from the fire.

I remind all present that they are bound
by their vow of obedience...

and on pain of excommunication...

to aid the inquisitor in his
painful struggle against heresy.

To sit with me on this tribunal...

and to share
the burden of the verdict...

I will require the counsel
of two fellow judges.

My lord abbot...

and...

Brother William of Baskerville.

Salvatore.

Salvatore.

Salvatore...

will you repeat your confession
of last night?

That you and your accomplice,
Remigio de Varagine...

were members of
the heretical Dolcinites?

Thank you.

Thank you.

- You forgive me.
- Enough!

Remigio de Varagine, do you deny
the confession of your accomplice?

No.

I don't deny it.

I'm proud of it!

For the 12 years I lived here...

I did nothing but stuff my belly...

shag my wick...

and squeeze the hungry peasants
for tithes.

But now you have given me
the strength...

to remember what I once
believed in with all my heart...

and for that, I thank you.

To remember that you wantonly looted
and burned the property of the church?

Yes!
To give it back to the people...

you stole it from in the first place.

And did you not also slaughter
many bishops and priests?

Yes!

And I'd butcher you people
if I had half the chance!

Holy Mary, Mother of God,
hear my humble prayer.

I know that my sin
was very great...

but I beg of you...

do not let her suffer
for my wrongdoing.

Blessed Mother...

many years ago, you granted a miracle
by saving my master.

Will you not do the same
for this girl?

My master says that the simple folk
always pay for all.

But please, Holy Mother,
do not let it be so.

Guilty is that witch...

who has seduced a monk...

and has practiced her diabolical ritual
within this hallowed place.

Guilty is Salvatore...

who has confessed
to his heretical past...

and was caught in flagrante delicto
with a witch!

Guilty is Remigio de Varagine...

who, in addition to being
unrepentant of his heresies...

was caught attempting to escape
after murdering Severinus.

That's a lie!

I never killed the herbalist
or anyone else in this abbey!

I therefore request you...

to confirm my sentence,
my lord abbot.

My heart is filled with sorrow...

but I can find no reason
to contest...

the just sentence
of the Holy Inquisition.

And you, William of Baskerville?

Yes.

He is guilty.

Guilty of having, in his youth...

misinterpreted the message
of the gospels.

And he is guilty of having confused...

the love of poverty with the blind
destruction of wealth and property.

But, my lord abbot,
he is innocent of the crimes...

that have bathed your abbey
in blood.

For Brother Remigio cannot read Greek.

And this entire mystery...

hinges on the theft and possession
of a book written in Greek...

and hidden in some secret part
of the library.

Since the verdict of
the Inquisition has been disputed...

we are obliged to extract
the prisoner's confession to murder.

Take him to the forge
and show him the instruments.

I'll confess anything you want...

but don't torture me.

I can't live through it,
not like Salvatore.

Very well.

Why did you kill them?

Why?

I don't know why.

- Because you were inspired by the devil?
- Yes.

That's it. I was inspired
by the devil.

I am inspired by the devil!

Adrammelech, Lucifer,
I summon you, lords of hell!

Alastor!

Azazel!

The shepherd has done his duty...

and the infected sheep must now be
consigned to the purifying flame.

You may burn Brother Remigio...

but you will not stop the crimes
being committed in this abbey.

Other monks will meet
their deaths here...

and they also will have
blackened fingers...

and blackened tongues!

Your Eminence, I beg of you.

We Franciscans are appalled
by Brother William's outburst.

Again,
we have seen that your theories...

protect heretics and lead to murder.

- The debate is concluded.
- No.

It seems Brother William
of Baskerville has relapsed...

into the errors of which
he was formerly purged.

Having sought yet again
to shield a heretic...

from just punishment
by the Inquisition...

he will accompany me to Avignon
for confirmation of my sentence...

by His Holiness Pope John.

I'm right.

If only I could find the book
and prove that Bernardo Gui was wrong.

But the Antichrist was victorious
once more...

and nothing seemed to be able
to hinder him further.

Come.

When the pyres are lighted tonight...

let the flames purify each of us
in his own heart.

Let us return to what was and ever
should be the office of this abbey.

The preservation of knowledge.

Preservation, I say,
not search for.

Because there is no progress
in the history of knowledge...

merely a continuous
and sublime recapitulation.

Let us now praise the Almighty...

that the bloody-eyed
and cloven-hoofed Antichrist...

has been purged
from our sacred precincts...

and our monastery
has returned to peace.

It had the power of 1000 scorpions!
He told me.

Who told you?
His tongue is black!

His fingers as black as pitch...

- just as Brother William foretold.
- Adso!

- It's Brother Malachia.
- Malachia?

- Yes, Father, yes.
- Dear God.

Not Malachia!

Will it never end?

Malachia.

Bernardo, William of Baskerville
was right.

- He said that...
- Yes! He knew.

Just as I, too, would have known,
had I been the murderer.

Find William of Baskerville.

We still can't open the mirror!

Perhaps by pressing
the first and seventh letters of four.

- Four only has four letters!
- In Latin.

Quatuor, remember?
The inscription above the mirror?

But we have to press above an idol.

Not idolum, as in the Latin,
but eidolon, as in the Greek.

Meaning image or reflection.
Our reflection.

- This way, master.
- No, this way, Adso.

Here, Q. Q and R.

Pray God we're not mistaken.

Come.

Good evening, Venerable Jorge.

I have been expecting you
these several days past, William.

You must have flown to this chamber
to have reached it ahead of us.

You have discovered many things
since your arrival at this abbey...

but the short route through
the labyrinth is not among them.

So now, what is it that you want?

I want to see the book in Greek
that you said was never written.

A book entirely devoted to comedy...

which you hate as much
as you hate laughter.

I want to see what is probably
the sole surviving copy...

of the second book
of the Poetics of Aristotle.

William, what a magnificent
librarian you would have been.

Here is your well-earned reward.

Read it.

Leaf through its secrets.

You have won.

Close, now!

We shall now discuss
the way comedy...

stimulates our delight
in the ridiculous...

by using vulgar persons
and taking pleasure from their defects.

Carry on, William.
Read it, read it!

Master, please, we must hurry.

If the light is too dim for you...

give it to the boy.
I'm sure he can read it.

I would not want my faithful pupil
to turn your poisoned pages.

Not without the protection of a glove,
such as I am wearing.

The door, quick!
Before he shuts us in!

Push!

Stay, stay!

Venerable brother, there are many
books that speak of comedy.

Why does this one fill you
with such fear?

- Because it is by Aristotle.
- Adso, this way.

Do you, Salvatore, renounce the devil
and embrace Jesus Christ...

as your lord and savior?

Do you, Remigio de Varagine,
renounce the devil...

- and embrace Jesus Christ...?
- What for?

It's better to die fast than to spend
the rest of your life in a prison!

The devil I renounce is you,
Bernardo Gui!

Do you renounce the devil
and embrace Jesus Christ as your savior?

But what is so alarming about laughter?

Laughter kills fear.

And without fear,
there can be no faith.

Because without fear of the devil,
there is no more need of God.

But you will not eliminate
laughter by eliminating that book.

No, to be sure.

Laughter will remain
the common man's recreation.

But what will happen if,
because of this book...

learned men were to pronounce it
permissible to laugh at everything?

Can we laugh at God?

The world would relapse into chaos.

Therefore, I seal that
which was not to be said...

and the tomb I become.

That's him!
He was there, behind the arch!

Adso!

Adso!

Adso!

- Master!
- Go on! I insist!

Leave this place at once!
I insist!

Please, God, save him.

Hold them back.

Burn the witch!

You dare raise your hands
to the church?

Come!

No! You're not going to leave!

All of this is your doing!

My master found the true murderer!

Help me. Quick!

Help me!

Help me! No!

No, no!

Master.

Adso!

I have never regretted my decision...

for I learned from my master much
that was wise and good and true.

When at last we parted company,
he presented me with his eyeglasses.

I was still young, he said,
but someday they would serve me well.

And, in fact, I am wearing them now
on my nose as I write these lines.

Then he embraced me fondly,
like a father, and sent me on my way.

I never saw him again and know not
what became of him...

but I pray always that God
received his soul and forgave...

the many little vanities to which
he was driven by his intellectual pride.

And yet, now that I am
an old, old man...

I must confess that of all the faces
that appear to me out of the past...

the one I see most clearly
is that of the girl...

of whom I've never ceased to dream
these many long years.

She was the only earthly love
of my life...

yet I never knew
nor ever learned her name.