Original subtitles

Previously...

I find you to be the most singular woman, Claire.

I'm Jamie's wife.

Word filtered out that the Laird of Lallybroch

had returned with his new bride.

They're criminals, out to line their own pockets.

The money we pay is for protection.

The British don't take kindly

to those who harbor outlaws.

Why'd you kill him?

- He threatened me. - Good.

I never liked the Irish bastard.

Looks like this laddie's on his way.

Bloody hell.

Now I'm a man short.

I could use a tall, strong Scotsman

who's swift with a sword.

Haste ye back, or else.

Congratulations.

Someone gave these to my mother.

My father used to tease her about her admirer.

We were ambushed.

Get back!

Where's Jamie?

The Redcoats have him.

Yes, ma'am?

You need to start milking the goat straight away.

Yes, ma'am.

And then ask Granny MacNab for some honey.

- She'll ken what it's for. - Yes, ma'am.

What's your plan, then?

Claire? Claire!

What do you intend to do?

I intend to get my husband back.

Well, you cannot go alone.

Allow me a moment to gather my strength and I'll accompany you.

You can't go anywhere in your condition.

You're missing your leg.

I'll fashion another one.

You're not going anywhere with a wounded arm.

You're taking some of the lads with you, then.

Mrs. Crook?

Fetch Duncan and have him gather the tenants.

The ones with proper weapons.

- Right away. - No.

Nobody is going anywhere. Nobody but me.

We have to do something.

Our Laird is in the clutches of the English.

If you engage with the British army to rescue Jamie,

then Lallybroch could face retribution from the Crown.

And your Laird would not want that to happen.

Especially on his account.

Well, at least let me make myself useful.

Give you a place to start.

Fetch me a paper and ink.

I'll try my hand at a rough map

of where we were set upon.

Please, hurry.

Where on earth do you think you're going?

You just gave birth. You can't leave.

You may be armed with a map

and a fair knowledge of the area.

But that's worthless for tracking soldiers.

She was right.

I scarcely knew the terrain around Lallybroch.

I could live for a time off the land, but for how long?

I knew full well if I had any hope of finding Jamie

I'd need help,

if not divine intervention.

Claire?

Yah!

Yah!

We're very close.

Go on. Shoo!

Get off!

God, our father.

Your power brings us to birth to guide our lives

and by your command, we return to dust. Amen.

God, our father, your power brings us to birth,

your providence guides our lives

and by your command we return to dust. Amen.

Amen.

I was reminded of the sad timelessness of war.

Victors carry their dead from fields and bury them.

The losers are left to slowly decay back into the soil.

I found more tracks. East.

Just as Ian said. They have a cart. It's heavy.

It should be easy enough to follow.

Hopefully, 'cause there's a rather large

redheaded Scot weighing it down.

I'm bursting.

I'd no idea it flowed liked that.

Aye, the bairn's sucking starts the milk.

Then all the child need do is swallow.

Ah! Feels much better.

I cannot leave wee Maggie too long.

It's a nuisance.

Everything to do with bairns is a nuisance, almost.

But still,

I'd never choose not to have them.

No, you wouldn't choose that.

Do you think we'll find him?

We have to.

They're still a few hours ahead of us at the least.

They get to Fort William before we do,

I'm afraid Jack Randall might finally finish what he started.

I've been thinking about that.

I plan on avoiding him altogether

by bargaining with Lord Thomas.

He's the commander of the British Army in this area

and Randall's superior.

With any luck, he'll be there.

Why would he bargain with you?

I believe he took a shine to me when I met him at Brockton.

And from what I observed,

he holds Randall in absolute contempt.

Sounds more like a prayer than a plan.

Well, it's better than no plan at all.

Still warm.

Come on!

Get your horses ready.

Aye, aye, sir. No problem.

There's Mr. MacQuarrie.

Where's Jamie? Can't see him anywhere.

Soldiers are at ease.

No on guard.

Do you suppose they've killed him?

Why would they?

Because he's a headstrong Fraser.

True, but he's not daft enough

to pick a fight with 10 armed soldiers.

Private, take this dispatch straight away.

Where's he going?

I don't know.

But there's one way to find out for sure.

You all right, madam?

I almost trampled you.

Again, what have you done with the other prisoner?

I'll not let harlots talk to me that way.

Untie me straight away.

A harlot am I, now?

Only a slut would stoop to rob a King's man.

We are not harlots or thieves.

We just want to know where the Highlander is.

The redheaded one.

Go to the devil, the both of you.

You don't have to make this more difficult.

A simple answer and we'll be on our way.

I don't think you grasp the situation you're in.

I won't be able to stop her once she sets her mind to something.

An assault on a King's man is an assault on the Crown itself.

The other prisoner?

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

No, no, no!

No!

Oh, God!

Where is he?

- The Highlander? - Enough!

It's the only tongue the English understand.

I beseech you.

Just tell us what you know and this will end.

Maybe if I smoke your bollocks, you'll change your mind.

Hold! Hold!

Please. Please, Lord God, hold.

I'm just a courier.

Lord God, please hold.

- I'm just... - Wait, wait!

I'm a courier, please!

If he's a courier,

maybe one of the dispatches will say something about Jamie.

I've found something.

If you break that seal...

you'll both hang.

It says they were taking him to the sheriff's court in Beauly

but he escaped.

The army is still searching for him.

Well, nobody's searching.

Those few soldiers back in the glen

were taking MacQuarrie to the sheriff's court in Beauly.

This dispatch is calling on the garrison

at Fort William to find Jamie.

And if they never read it...

Then they won't know he's escaped.

He won't go back to Lallybroch.

That's the first place they'll look.

No, he'll go north.

Deeper into the Highlands.

The garrison won't dare stray that far

from supplies and reinforcements.

Too chancy.

What are you doing?

I'm going to stop the burning and bandage his foot.

Claire, we cannot allow him to live.

I don't know that.

He knows we're looking for Jamie.

How long do you think it'd be

before they turn up in Lallybroch

if we left him alive to blab?

I ken you're my brother's wife,

but I won't be judged by you, Claire.

Pardon?

I can see in your eyes you don't agree with my methods.

Just because I don't want to see the man murdered?

No, because it bothers you

and there's no room for sentiment like that here.

He won't be telling his tale to anyone.

Next time,

hide your tracks better.

I followed till I heard the screams.

Make camp.

I'll go find us some supper.

Love forces a person to choose.

You do things you never imagined you could do before.

I wasn't judging you.

I just know that if Murtagh hadn't turned up when he did...

I would have done it myself.

When the bottom log burns to ash,

the next one will take its place.

Should keep us warm till morning.

For a lady from Oxfordshire,

- you ken your way about the wilds. - Hmm.

When I was young, my uncle taught me how to survive outdoors.

We had to take whatever the land offered.

I picked up a few useful tips.

Aye, I'd say so.

Where did you learn to track like that?

Jamie and Ian taught me when we were young.

They didn't mind you tagging along?

Well, they knew if they refused,

I'd either skelp their lugs or bedevil their suppers.

Bedevil their suppers?

Added a bit of seasoning.

I'd show them the wee beasties

and tell them they'd get plenty more when they least expected it

if they didn't teach me.

So, Ian sent you, I expect?

Aye, he thought you could use the help.

But from what I've seen so far,

you two are natural outlaws.

Supper.

The rents from quarter day. You might need it.

You'll take it and none of your nonsense.

This belongs to Ian.

He has another one.

Put it in the top of your stocking.

Hold it with your garter.

Never take it off, even when you sleep.

Do you ken how to use a knife?

Yes. I do.

It was clear that with Murtagh's arrival,

Jenny had to go back to Lallybroch and her infant daughter.

However, I felt the burden of being a prophet.

Jenny, I need you to do something when you get home.

Plant potatoes.

Potatoes?

They're no grown in the Highlands.

They will be.

The crop will keep for a long time

and the yield is better than wheat.

Aye.

There's none closer than Edinburgh,

but I can send for them.

As many as you can.

There will be a famine. A bad one in two years.

Any land or property you have that's not productive,

sell it now for gold.

A war is coming,

slaughter.

Men will be hunted throughout the Highlands.

Jamie said you might tell me things.

Didn't make much sense at the time.

But he said if you did, I was to do as you ask.

Those are the important things to do for now.

God go with you, Claire.

I can leave knowing you're gonna do whatever it takes

to bring my brother back.

Are we headed north?

Aye.

Can you be more specific?

North, then west.

You're a wealth of information.

Is there a place he might go?

There's no telling.

But the traveling will not be easy for him,

lying hid during the day

and staying off the roads.

Then how exactly are we supposed to find him?

We're not.

The Laird's gonna find us.

What do you mean?

I've brought the rest of your medicines.

You need to establish a reputation

around these parts as a healer.

You need to attract attention.

I found out soon enough what he meant.

We traveled openly and slowly, along the main roads

and stopped at every croft, village and hamlet we came to.

Okay, young man...

There, Murtagh would make a quick survey of the local populace,

round up anyone suffering from illness or injury

and bring them to me for treatment.

Physicians, being few and far between in these parts,

were always guaranteed to draw attention.

Get off!

Get off!

Get off!

Murtagh had his own way of attracting attention.

You're like a sow in heat up there.

Off!

You're making me want to spend time with the wife!

These lines are contradictory.

See how this one curves?

That means you're going on a journey

and...

It's crossed by a broken line.

Which means you're staying put.

There are strangers

who've come into your life recently,

many of them.

And if I read this right, and I do,

one of them is a very tall, strapping, red-haired man.

Have you seen someone like that recently?

No.

Only man I've seen of late is my husband.

And he's short, fat and lazy.

But this red-haired, strapping man you speak of,

is he the one that's to take me on a journey?

Possibly.

Sit down!

Are you sure?

Think.

Perhaps you saw him passing through here.

If I'd seen him, Lassie...

would I be sitting here talking to you?

Well, I suppose not.

You have a very long and happy life to look forward to.

Really?

But your husband doesn't.

Oh!

Thank you.

Dimwits.

They wouldn't appreciate a fine performance

if it bit them on their backsides!

And you,

do you have to tell fortunes during my dance?

So I'm to blame because you're not a success?

You were a distraction.

I couldn't concentrate on my steps

for worrying about you.

It was your idea that I tell fortunes.

I'm just going along with the plan.

Trust me,

Jamie will come to us.

Very few fortune-telling healers roam the Highlands

with a dancing Fraser clansman in tow.

Is there no other way for us to get the word out?

Words cannot travel by air.

Not yet, anyway.

Huh?

Never mind. No one I spoke to has seen him.

Did you have any luck?

No.

This isn't going to work.

Not with that attitude it won't.

Suddenly

The sky grew darker

And there was a loud noise upon...

May I make a suggestion?

Perhaps you could sing a song to jazz up the dance a bit.

Jazz?

To spice up, enliven.

A song?

Yes. Something toe-tapping, like...

He was a famous trumpet man

From out Chicago way

He had a boogie style that no one else could play

He was the top man at his craft

But then his number came up

And he was gone with the draft

He's in the army now

A-blowing reveille

He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B

What?

It's a bonnie tune.

But you need a Scottish song.

Me?

And a new look.

That's jazzed you up a bit. Eh?

I look ridiculous.

Aye, you do.

Where did you find these clothes? They absolutely reek.

This is going to help us find Jamie how?

You nagged me to speed up the search.

Well, a Sassenach lady dressed as a laddie,

singing this bawdy song,

that should spread the word.

Well, I'm sure this isn't what I had in mind.

Mmm-mmm.

Bear ye one another's burdens and so fulfill the...

Stop quoting the Bible. It doesn't suit you.

Right.

I've warmed them up with a wee jig.

Oh, fuck.

Here's to all you lads and lasses

That go out this way

Be sure to tip her coggie

When you take her out to play

Lads and lasses toy a kiss

The lads never think what they do is amiss

Because there's Kent and Keen and there's Aberdeen

And there's none as muckle as the strathabogie wogie

For every lad'll wander just to have his lass

And when they see her pintle rise

They'll raise a glass

And rowe about their wanton een

They'll dance the reels as the troopers go over the lea

Because there's Kent and Keen and there's Aberdeen

And there's none as muckle as the strathabogie wogie

He giggled, google me

He was a banger

He sought the prize between my thighs

Became a hanger

And there's Kent and Keen and there's Aberdeen

But there's none as muckle as the strathabogie wogie

If you see a strapping redheaded fellow, let me know.

There's a big redheaded lad come through these parts.

But there's none as muckle as the strathabogie wogie

And no there's none as muckle

as the wanton tune of strathabogie

It's our sixth village.

How long do you plan on doing this for?

Well, as long as it takes.

Jamie kens the song you're singing well.

His Uncle Dougal used to sing it

when he had too much drink.

You singing it is like lighting a beacon on a black night.

I trust you, Murtagh, but...

And airing your doubts is just your way of showing that, then?

No.

Then that'll be all on the subject?

Fine. I'll keep my mouth shut.

Aye.

Till we reach the horses, I expect.

For the show, any alms.

Alms, alms for the show.

That flat-footed lummock has no feeling for the tune.

None.

I'll see about securing a spot for you

once this clodhopper is finished.

Crowd seems receptive enough.

And now I give you,

the Sassenach!

Here's for every lad and lass that goes with that way

Be sure you tap her coggie when you take her out to play

The lads and lasses toy and kiss

The lads dare think what they do is amiss

Because there's Kent and Keen and there's Aberdeen

But there's none as muckle as strathabogie wogie

And every lad's a wander for to have his lass

And when you see her pintle rise

You raise your glass

And rowe about their wanton een

It's no laughing matter.

A song is a song is a song.

No one can claim the words.

They're like birds on the wing.

If one can cage them, they own them.

It's ours, you're filching it.

You won't be using it again.

What my companion is attempting to say

is that it's a very special song.

That's precisely why we chose to use it.

Delivers the crowds.

Not my taste,

but the Highlanders seem to delight in ribald language.

And we added a proper dancer.

You have a servant.

Clearly you're in no need of funds.

A respectable English lady

traveling through the Scottish countryside

posing as an itinerant performer.

No.

You do this for either politics or love.

It's not politics.

Wise.

You don't want to involve yourself in His Majesty's affairs.

But love, after money...

is what matters most in a gypsy's heart.

Bloody Christ.

Since when do gypsies have hearts?

Spoken by a man who has no soul.

Enough.

I'm searching for my husband

and I have to sing that song.

And once I have found him I promise you,

I will never set foot on stage again.

Give me your word that you won't perform that song again.

You have my word.

You might as well have dropped that money in a ditch.

His word is worth hee-haw.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

I think it's what Jamie would've done.

You're no listening.

That gypsy all but told you he'd carry on performing that song

if it earns him money.

I have to believe

that a man who looks you in the eye

and gives you his word will keep it.

The gypsy will keep using the song.

So you'll be singing it.

They'll be singing it.

Jamie won't know which song to come to.

Go on home to Lallybroch.

I'll track the gypsies.

Easier for me on my own.

You won't slow me down then.

No, he is my husband.

You can't understand how that feels.

Besides, I outrank you, do I not?

I'm pledged to the Laird.

And I am his lady.

And I'll continue singing that song

until I find him.

If you look hard enough, you might just see the Americas.

It's the only place you haven't sung that damn song yet.

Cannot sleep?

Of course not.

Good.

What does that mean?

I'm a fool for trailing after you.

At least I ken that much.

But you?

You're stubborn

and you will not listen to anyone but your own self.

You insisted you'd carry on singing this song.

We've still no sign of the Laird.

Are you blaming me for our situation?

I am.

This whole farce was your plan.

And it was fine

till your dealings with the gypsies.

Fine?

Nothing about this search has been fine.

Perhaps it has for you

because you've never lost someone that you've loved.

You ken it all now, do you lass?

I lost someone...

at a MacKenzie gathering many years ago.

My face had less weather on it then...

and she was a sonsie lassie...

but she had another suitor.

So...

I thought to prove myself worthy of her.

Be the kind of man she'd desire.

During the Tynchal hunt,

I alone killed a wounded boar using just a dagger.

The MacKenzie was so impressed by the deed,

he gave me the tusks.

I made them into bracelets

and gave them to the lass as a wedding gift.

It was you?

You think you're the only one that loves Jamie?

He's a son to me.

I'm sorry.

I can't bear it.

What are we going to do now?

Where do we go?

Until we ken otherwise,

we go back to the beginning and start again.

All right.

First things first.

The horses,

they need to be fed and watered.

I gave away most of our money.

We'll manage something.

No.

You'll have a long and happy life.

Mr. Ward,

I didn't expect to see you again,

unless you came to have your fortune read.

I broke my word.

We've been performing your song

and doing quite well at it.

I had heard that gypsies aren't trustworthy.

I'd hoped it wasn't true.

Well, I trust you haven't come all this way looking for absolution.

Is everything all right here, lass?

It's fine.

Mr. Ward was just leaving.

I'm here in the name of love.

We were performing near Achnasheen.

A messenger left word.

And what's that got to do with us?

The message was for the lass playing your role.

Clearly, it was meant for you.

This message, what did it say?

I don't just give information away.

Even to those with the soul of a gypsy.

I'll give you nothing.

Now, you better leave

before my companion here

decides to lend you a hand.

You're to go to Glen Rowan Cross with all due haste.

Is it Jamie?

He kens the place.

So do I.

Thank you.

From one gypsy to another.

Jamie!

Sorry to disappoint you, lass.

We were hoping for...

I ken what you were hoping for.

I couldn't send for you by name.

Risk my location being found by those unsympathetic to the cause.

Smuggling now, are we?

For Prince Charles' nascent rebellion?

I didn't send for you to debate politics.

You can stop your searching.

I've news of Jamie.

He's alive.

He was taken at Achnasheen.

Drawn by your song.

Met six Redcoats face-to-face

around a turn in a path.

One recognized him.

Was he hurt?

He's in Wentworth Prison.

Stood trial three days ago. Condemned to hang.

When?

Today?

Day after.

Not long.

We have to hurry.

- Wait, wait. - Hey!

No, no, no, no.

No, Murtagh.

I need to have a word with the lady, alone.

I'll be fine.

Claire,

I understand that you're grieving. I do.

It's hard to accept that Jamie's gone.

I know that.

But you have to let him go.

You said he was still alive.

There must be something we can do.

There is.

Come back with me.

- What? - I'll protect you.

I don't need protection. I need my husband.

I can protect you, as your husband.

Get your hands off me.

Now, listen to me, Claire.

I will do no such thing.

Have you no shame?

Your nephew

lies rotting in prison under a death warrant

and you make a play for his wife?

I've never known you to act like an empty-headed woman before,

so don't start now.

What about Geillis?

I thought she was your true soulmate.

Your star-crossed lover

carrying your forbidden child.

Both of them burned at the stake...

and here you are looking for another woman,

her friend,

to warm your bed.

We won't talk about Geillis today.

This is about you.

You're a widow...

Well, if not now, you soon will be.

An English widow.

With no money,

no property to call your own.

Save that poor Fraser land you'll inherit.

And how long do you think it'll be before Captain Jack Randall

comes knocking at your door at Lallybroch?

The Frasers will protect me, thank you very much.

In the same way they protected Jamie?

No, you'll be back in his hands

the minute he takes his fancy.

And there's nothing that those poor farmers can do about it.

I thought those poor farmers

were going to be the backbone of your Jacobite army.

You're being clever, not wise.

The only way to keep you and Lallybroch safe

is to come under my protection.

As War Chieftain of the Clan MacKenzie.

Lallybroch?

So that's what this is really about?

You want to control the Fraser lands.

That's what you've wanted all along.

That's why you kept Jamie away for years

by telling him his sister bore Randall's child.

Because you were hoping for an opportunity

to bring them under the MacKenzie banner

before their rightful Laird could return.

All that may be true.

But it doesn't alter your position.

Now, what would Jamie want you to do?

Well, he wouldn't want me sleeping with his uncle.

Hey, listen to me. Listen to me.

He loved you, yes, I know that.

More than I suspected when I proposed you wed.

Now, he was a man of deep feelings.

Don't you dare speak about him as if he were already dead.

Now you think what you want of me,

of my motives or of my politics, or even my honor.

But you know... You know Jamie.

You know how he felt about Randall.

If marrying me was the only way

to keep you out of that bastard's hands,

he would tell you to do it.

Now...

look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong.

How many men are there with you?

What?

- How many? - Ten.

I know what you're thinking,

but there is no way on earth

that so few men can force their way into Wentworth Prison.

Jamie led only a handful of men

when he rescued me at Fort William.

What's the matter?

Are you scared you're not as good as him?

I'll not be baited by you, Claire.

You're blinded by love.

Wishing for things that can never be.

Would you give up your dream

of a Stuart king on the throne without trying?

No.

And I won't give up on Jamie without trying.

He'll be dead before you get there.

And what then?

Then I'll marry you.

If there's a chance that I can save him, then I have to try.

But if I fail...

or if he's already dead,

I will marry you.

I'll not force any of my men

to go to their deaths.

But I'll not stand in the way of any

that choose to go.

Look, I like the lad.

But it's Wentworth.

There's no chance.

Bloody cowards.

I understand your hesitation.

What I'm asking is daunting,

but I know, if the situation were reversed,

Jamie would come for every single one of you.

The same MacKenzie blood

runs through all your veins.

I'll go.

Laddie, stop your nonsense and get back behind me.

You're too green to ken what you're saying.

Jamie's always looked after me.

Protected me.

On the road. At Leoch.

And I ken if it was me about to meet the hangman's noose,

he'd come for me, try to set me free.

Whatever you call for, Mistress Claire.

My life is yours to command.

Thank you, Willie.

You have more courage than all the rest of them put together.

You honor your blood.

Hell's fire.

Cannot let the wee scunner go alone

and have all the fun, can I, eh?

Aye, me neither.

You see when this goes wrong,

I'm killing you first for getting us involved.

Even before the Redcoats stretch your scrawny neck.

Now, that was the easy part.