Original subtitles

We did our duty.

Have mercy.

I am General Georges Cadoudal.

I fight for

our legitimate sovereign Louis XVIII.

You. You fight for the usurper, Bonaparte.

Have you any last words?

I want to see my assassin's face.

We killed Louis XVI.

And we'll kill his brother if he sets foot on this land again.

France belongs to its citizens.

You're a brave man.

You deserve to die as a soldier.

Cotton and embroidered silk, the latest fashion.

The latest fashion five years ago.

Maybe it's the cross that I don't like.

This one.

Better.

You may go.

Leave us.

Every day you look more and more like a princess.

What did you want to ask me, Prince?

Don't I have the right to see the dresses I've bought for my wife?

During working hours?

I'd like some privacy if you don't mind.

Your Excellency.

Well,

you know Henriette has all my trust.

Six policemen were hanged yesterday by the royalists.

Fouché's already ordered reprisals.

France is still on the brink of civil war.

And the royalists will not stop

until Louis XVI's brother is crowned.

Unless...

Unless Louis XVIII renounces the crown.

Are you serious?

Everything has a price.

Especially when you live across Europe and off of foreign kings' charity.

You want to buy the crown from him?

To put it on Bonaparte's head?

Does he know about your plan?

Only if we succeed.

We?

A minister would attract attention,

whereas I thought you might enjoy getting back in touch with your adventurous side.

Keep it.

At the crown's expense.

If Bonaparte ascends the throne,

I want a place in his court.

And I want Joséphine to have to greet me every day.

That'd be harder than getting Louis XVIII's crown

from his stronghold in Warsaw.

First, how do we get in?

Apparently he's so paranoid, he thinks everyone wants to murder him.

Buy today's paper!

Order the newspaper!

La Gazette de Paris!

Royalists attack a barrack!

Yes, Monsieur!

Five minutes.

What did they do to you?

Doesn't matter. We don't have much time.

Did they tell you what you're accused of?

Antonin.

Dad, I'm doing everything I can to get you out.

Whatever idea you have in mind to help me, forget it.

Did they tell you to tell me that?

Is it Fouché?

- In your letter... - What letter?

I never wrote a letter.

I asked for proof that you're alive.

To Talleyrand?

Antonin, listen to me.

You've gotten involved in something that's beyond us.

If you keep going, you'll be screwed.

You want to help me?

Don't do anything.

I can't.

I can't do nothing.

Live your life. Invent, create, cook,

travel, make love...

I do it all, Dad.

But without you.

I won't leave you here.

I also love you because you're stubborn.

Go on, leave.

Leave!

I won't give up.

Don't tell me I have to kill the king.

No, not the king.

But the deal they're offering him should be enough.

As long as an heir to the throne is alive,

no one will put another king on the throne.

"No one" is Talleyrand, and "another king" is Bonaparte?

If Louis XVIII was to accept their offer,

show him this.

Letters from foreign princes?

Who support his claim to the throne and are ready to fight for him.

But if these letters were addressed to him, why didn't he get them?

They're fake, right?

100% made in France.

I have the seals and signatures of all the greats in Europe.

I can get you a letter from the King of England saying you're his cousin.

Letters are a good start,

but we need something more symbolic.

An item.

That reminds him he's a king.

You'll receive the Hand of Justice.

It has been one of the symbols of the kings of France since the Middle Ages.

We shouldn't see each other so often. It's risky.

I decide what's risky.

You think you can be followed without my men knowing?

You'll go to Poland to meet Louis XVIII.

Why me?

What do you want me to do over there?

He's a gourmet.

He'd sell his soul for one of your recipes.

Imagine you grew up in Versailles and you're a royal.

But today, your menu is limited to sausage and sauerkraut.

No way.

No way I'm going to Poland.

Deal with Charles and Catherine.

Is something bothering you?

Bailly never wrote to me.

It was the only way I had to prove he's alive.

The only way.

But it's a lie.

A lie?

He's alive, isn't he?

And we'll make sure he stays alive.

Courtiade arranged everything.

Look.

Bailly's keeper is on our side.

Ready to let Bailly escape as soon as I give the order.

On one condition.

I'm trusting you with something delicate,

dangerous and extremely important to me.

Louis XVIII must abandon his claim to the throne

so the streets of France can be at peace.

Don't disappoint me.

Putting truffled capon in jars.

- What a shame. - Liliane, I'll explain one last time.

This is the same menu as Louis XVIII's wedding feast.

To remind him of his beautiful France.

What is this?

- Pierre? - Yes, Monsieur.

I said broth to the edge.

- I won't repeat myself again. - Yes, Monsieur.

It will be completely rotten in three days.

No.

Removing the air prevents it from rotting.

Really? By what miracle?

Because...

Because what?

Because...

I have no idea.

Cooking at high temperature destroys all bacteria.

They can't develop without air.

That's it, that's exactly it.

You have to kill the bacteria.

Nothing can resist a trip through Europe.

It'll be in a carriage for at least four weeks!

Thinner.

Listen here.

I was cooking this dish back when you were still shitting your pants.

Look, 3 mm.

No more, no less.

Martin!

- Where is he? - Here!

- All of that, in the vaults. - Understood.

Are you really planning to break Bailly out?

Certainly not.

I need him to complete his mission first.

What are these?

They're jars.

It keeps the food safe for two or three months.

By killing bacteria.

Jars for a king.

For a king.

Have a good trip.

Which one do you want?

How long have you two been making love?

Together or in general?

Don't get her pregnant.

I need her.

You really think it's going to hold?

You want to do it?

There you go.

Give me your bag.

- Here? - Yes.

What's wrong?

I know you.

You're hiding something.

It's Bailly...

See?

POLAND

It would be better if we went this way.

Yes, I agree.

I'm the princess of Talleyrand.

I've come to deliver a message from my husband,

the Minister of Foreign Affairs,

to his majesty Louis XVIII.

Sire?

Princess.

So France has fallen very low in my absence.

I would have hoped Talleyrand would send me more worthy emissaries.

He hoped to seduce you by sending his whore.

He doesn't know you very well.

So, what is your message?

I've come to negotiate.

Negotiate?

The crown.

It's not land or a horse,

the crown isn't something that can be bought.

Return to Galliffet.

Or stay here, as a prisoner.

We haven't come empty-handed.

And we have the best cook in France.

At least accept his dinner.

One dinner.

Just one.

I made it for you, Sire.

It would be a shame not to taste it.

If it pleases you, you will grant the princess an interview.

And if we don't like it...

All right.

Where is your brigade?

We had to let the old brigade go.

This could be part of the deal.

A decent cook for your majesty.

That's overdone.

I don't need to taste it to know it's overdone.

But I need to make sure it's not poisoned.

That's overdone.

Go back to the stables. Go. Out.

It's a shame. An assistant would have been useful.

You have three.

We have dinner at 6:00 p.m.

Bring me the jars.

Please.

What the hell!

This is not possible.

Air got in.

No, no, no, no.

Shit. Everything's rotten.

What now?

Now we cook.

This is hardly going to give them a taste of France.

Way to motivate a team.

Can you make a small fire?

You know, Charles, that's two pieces of wood

with a few branches underneath.

Enjoying this a lot, you little shit.

It's for France.

There's no wood.

So? What do we do?

With cabbage and potatoes? Good luck with that.

Potatoes.

Start by peeling the potatoes.

- Are you serious? - It's for France, Princess.

Do you think my father knows?

That Hortense is pregnant with my child?

I think there are few things he doesn't know.

True.

But if he knew, would he be offended?

Bonaparte has no children.

His brother's son would be the first in the order of succession.

What succession?

There's no longer a king.

Until Bonaparte sits on the throne.

I'm just saying, he wouldn't mind his grandson being in Hortense's womb.

That's completely twisted.

Like your father.

Right?

If you were an assistant, you'd be fired from any kitchen.

These are the first eight potatoes I've ever peeled in my life.

Let me peel them. You do the cutting.

Thin slices.

3 mm. No more, no less.

Like this.

That's what I want.

Who's the crazy one? With the toy? Their daughter?

They don't have children, she's their niece.

Last survivor of Louis XVI's family.

She was kept at the temple with her family and her little brother.

She lost them one after the other.

Be careful. It's hot.

And the woman?

Louis's wife?

She only loves wine.

And women.

She married a man,

hoping to become Queen of France, and here she is.

Can you cut this?

Are we cooking what I think we're cooking?

To convince the king to give up the throne?

Would you be so kind as to close your eyes, Sire?

I won't cut your throat, I promise.

What do you smell?

I smell

potatoes?

And?

Butter.

Nutmeg.

And?

Cream?

A gratin dauphinois?

Who do you think we are?

Peasants?

Peasants, yes.

Craftsmen,

bourgeois,

nobles.

This dish, Madame,

is France.

May I?

You must.

I was seven or eight the last time I ate one.

Our nanny used to make it for us.

My brothers loved it.

Precisely, Sire.

This dish...

is yesterday's France

and tomorrow's.

Can we keep him?

The others, we can get rid of.

There's something I can't identify.

What have you added that escapes my palate?

What's your secret ingredient?

I'll tell you once you've received Madame de Talleyrand.

The trollop will have ten minutes.

Romanée Conti, 1775.

I know this bottle.

My husband saved it from your cellar in Versailles.

You mean he stole it.

Shall we try this one?

Cotton and embroidered silk.

The latest fashions in Paris.

No need for a corset.

I like the cross.

Did you come to convince me, or her?

I can do both.

Look.

We loosen the hair.

Dresses and a cook in exchange for the crown?

You can't be serious.

And a million francs in bearer bonds.

You do not have to live like this.

You could be rich, and in your homeland.

And you could offer it peace.

- France is ablaze, Sire. - I know.

I think about it every night when I go to bed.

Every morning when I wake up.

When I sleep, when I eat, when I piss.

France is always on my mind.

Give up the crown and put an end to this carnage.

ACT OF RENUNCIATION TO THE THRONE

Today you depend on the generosity of foreign kings.

But tomorrow...

Your ten minutes are up.

So stay the night?

Could that help negotiations?

Not staying could be fatal for them.

What did you want to tell me the other night?

About your father.

Talleyrand will have him break free.

Maybe it's already happened.

What about Fouché? Aren't you afraid of him?

I don't care.

As long as my father is free, I don't care about Fouché.

Antonin,

I need to tell you something.

But first...

First of all, I love you.

Show me how you do things.

I want to see you at work.

Me too.

This is Chardonnay.

Côte de Beaune?

The first thing I miss about France may be its food.

Food is what makes a country.

Like its language.

Like its art.

Milk, for example.

Make some cheese. In France, in England,

or in Poland.

It won't taste the same.

The taste of France is unique.

It's the first taste we know. It made us.

Since birth.

Who taught you all this?

My father.

Thanks to him, I spent my life cooking.

Cheers to him.

My father wanted me to be manly.

I was ten when he brought me my first whore.

How did you do?

Not good.

Your secret ingredient is patience?

Your wife is with Madame de Talleyrand?

I guess.

And you expect the same from me?

I tried men.

I tried everything.

I think sex bores me.

Royally.

But this... This is something else.

This can't be taught. Your father has nothing to do with it.

Funny. That's what he says too.

He's right.

It's a gift.

A gift from God.

God has nothing to do with my life.

Are you sure?

Come.

What is your name?

Marie-Antoine Carême.

A tribute to my sister-in-law.

Your parents were more royalist than you think.

Carême, in your kitchen you're a king.

Trust me.

I feel these things.

I am a king without a kingdom.

You are a king without a crown.

Whatever the case.

Maybe it'll make me feel better.

Look at yourself.

I warn you, it's a heavy weight.

Sire?

You are our king.

Who are you?

A friend of your friends abroad.

England supports you.

Austria and Prussia are ready to attack Bonaparte in your name.

All of Europe has faith in you, Your Majesty.

The king!

I should have you executed for high treason.

But in my family, we don't kill.

We get killed.

Go back to France.

I'll be back sooner than you think.

And you?

You will cook for me.

Why did you screw up the mission?

Who asked you to?

- Antonin. - I want to know. Tell me.

- I can't. - You can't?

Well, let's see how you're going to deal with the consequences at Galliffet then.

What are you going to do? Turn me in to Talleyrand?

I did it to save your life, idiot.

My life?

What does that mean?

Fouché is tracking down the man who copied Bonaparte's itinerary

the evening of the attack.

Yeah, I'm talking about you.

And he knows.

You're working for Fouché?

Right?

I'm the last defense between you and him.

Or so I was.

Your call.

Why are you working for him?

For money?

Right?

Does he pay you well?

I killed a man.

And Fouché knows.

I was 13.

A distant relative, a count, welcomed me after my father's death.

A powerful man.

He took over my family.

He took over me.

Nobody ever defended me.

So I did it myself.

Fouché spared me.

Nobody hates aristocrats more than him.

But he knows.

He knows.

We have to hold on, Antonin.

One last time,

did your son give you the proof of Talleyrand's implication in the attack?

What secret connects your son and Talleyrand that I'm not aware of?

I kept my word.

Now you keep yours.

Don't worry. We have an agreement.

I'm not afraid of dying, but I'll leave my son out of all this.

Out of all this?

But your son is already in the middle of all this.

He will take your place before you even notice.

You still refuse to speak?

From now on, you'll suffer.

Then speak.

Catch him!

He remembered he was a king.

It's unfortunate.

So?

Tell me he's free.

I'm sorry, Antonin.

Idiot, you should have shot him in the legs.

Like that.

Someday, I'll do what you asked me to do.

I'll travel. I'll make love.

I'll cook for the greats of this world.

The rich, the kings,

all those bastards.

But first...

First, I'll make the one responsible for your death pay.

And he'll suffer.

More than you did, Dad.

I promise.