All language subtitles for Harvest.2024.80p.MUBI.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.x264-KUCHU-en

It's okay,
sweetheart. It's okay.

It's okay, come on.

Willowjack!

Come on!

Thank God.

Thank you. Thank you, Walt.

Walt! Let's save
what we can! Move!

Why're you laughing?
What's wrong with you lads?

Water!

Have you lost your wits?

Yous are high.

Come on, here you go. That's it.

Go on, Walt!

You!

Is this your doing?

Playing with fire again?

'Shrooms.

Why are you standing there,
Master Kent? Come on!

It's your barn!

What sparked this fire?

There was no lightning
overnight, was there?

Was there?

Looks like someone was intending to
make off with the master's doves.

Christopher...

It's harvest end today.

Aye, why would
anyone steal a dove

when Master Kent's
promised us a calf tonight?

Could be no one.

No one among us.

I understand that
this is the moment

when I should raise my
own hand and say my piece.

Or at least take the boys aside
and nudge them in the ribs.

But I hold my tongue.

Besides,

my hand is too
damaged to be raised.

I'm okay.

Walt.

How's your hand?

It's okay.

I'm fine.

Does it hurt?

No?

No?

Everyone...

It's been a long night,

and you've done well, very well.

You alright?

Why don't you go home
and get some sleep, yes?

In any other place, arsonists
would be on hooks in common view.

But our fields are
far from anywhere.

Two days by post-horse,

three days by chariot,

before you find
the market square.

We have no magistrate
or constable,

and Master Kent is kind.

He's always taken care of us.

We've always taken care of him.

Maybe it is better for the
bachelors to hold their nerve,

and hope that everyone will take
the blaze to be an act of God.

Bad luck, in other words.

And not a soul to blame.

Let's have a look.

Let's see.

Let me do it.

Why's he finger-wagging?

He's counting.

What's he counting?

And what are his
scratchings for?

He's counting us.

-How is your hand today, Walt?
-Master Kent.

-It's healing, no concern.
-Let's see.

You don't want to look at it.

Philip. This is Walter Thirsk.

He was my childhood
friend and my manservant,

but then he fell in
love with a local lass

and he preferred to
attend to her furrows.

So you are a wise man, eh?

I don't know.

Look. I'm just recording and
marking the lie of the land.

So, you see these lines here?

These are your woods,

your fields, the loch.

And this is your village, and...

these small dots here,

these are your people.

What's that?

-This, this is the sea.
-The sea?

I've never been there before.

You must go.

What are these?

This is the compass rose.

Norte, sud.

That's the loch then?

-That is right.
-The oak wood?

Yes, so now you see it, eh?

What's that?

It is a smudge.

Imperfections.

Can be fixed.

It's magical.

Thank you. It's not finished.

It's a beginning.

Yes.

I'm still working on this part.

Maybe we can go there.

Is this what it feels
like to take wing?

I'd love to go there.
That'd be fantastic.

I hope you don't mind me
saying, I just think it's...

Master Kent?

...absolutely wonderful.

Master Kent.

The loch.

Oh, no.

Hello?

There seems to be a problem.

Everyone stay calm.

But I think there's
something down there.

See to the last of
the harvest, Walt.

Come on, hurry up!

Back off!

You fucking want it? Yeah?

You fucking mad?

Fuck you!

This is fucked, man. We've
got a right to be here!

Who are you to come from
nowhere to our land?

-It's not your fucking land!
-Technically, it's my land.

We know the custom and the law.

We put up walls and made a
fire. We're at liberty to stay!

Fucking walls? That was
sticks and twigs, mate.

Fuck off.

Let us go!

We haven't used that
pillory in years.

Get 'em over there.

You fucking bastards.

Get your fucking hands off me.

Fucking cunt.

-Get your fucking hands off me.
-We will accept your punishment.

Get down, get down!

Put her in the loch.

Get your hands off of her!

Get your hands off of her.

-How do you lock this thing?
-We'll take your punishment...

Let her go!

Back away! Away.

Let the women do it.

Come here.

Stop it.

You already have one gash,

naebody wants to
give you another.

Listen!

Listen! Eyes on me.

Hello... Keys? Right.

One week.

Yes? One week.

Yous two... must pay for
dining out last night

on fowl that don't
belong to you.

Look, look.

You burn my barn?

You burn my barn.

You ate my doves.

One week will help
you contemplate

better manners.

Better manners!

-You got her?
-Aye.

Hold still.

I've never seen a
woman like that before.

Okay, still. Still.

Why's she looking at us?

It's just not right,
it's just not right.

These fucking sick magpies.

It's not right, what
happened. It's not right.

Oh, shut up.

Does it matter if
it's not right or not.

Well, I think she looked pretty.

I think all the men did too.

Well, that was obvious.

She could be anywhere, out
there. Anywhere. She should be...

We're too small, and
getting smaller, John.

What?

The crops. They're
quite pathetic.

Some more able hands would make
welcome help in the coming days.

We should let the men loose.

Why don't you say that a wee bit louder
so the whole village can hear you?

I'm only talking to you, John.

This lot...

suspicious of anyone who's not born
with local soil under their fingernails.

You know this.

Aye. But we do need help.

I know we need help.

It's just not right
what they're doing.

Why don't you ask
your pal? Kent?

It's not my place.

-You scared?
-No, I'm not scared.

-Your hogs. On the loose again?
-I know, I'll take care of it.

I don't think Gorge likes me.

That's George.

See, that one's Gorge,
and that one's George.

How can you tell?

There you go.

Everybody! Everybody!

Hey, hey, hey! Quiet.

To Master Kent!

-Thank you.
-Quiet!

Thank you very much.

Hope you are enjoying the food.

Now if I just may, I
may introduce my friend,

Mr Earle.

-Earle? I thought his name was Quill.
-Me too.

You'll see him about in my
employ, because he's making a map,

of all our common land.

Let the man speak.

Here's the dream that I've had.

Safe from vagabonds
and longbows,

you walk about your
fenced-in fields.

You sit in meadows
and you merely watch.

You're not freezing to the bone,

or tugging out weeds until your
backs are stiffer than a plank.

No. We are sitting warm at home,

weaving fortunes for
ourselves from yarn.

Now, somewhere,

too far away to name,
a man puts on a coat,

that we've shepherded,

and then woven with our hands.

A woman pulls a scarf

around her head, and smells
our heathers in its weave.

We start off

with the fleece on the
backs of our sheep,

and with your willing consent,

end up with garments on
the backs of noble folk!

It's a stirring
prospect. Isn't it?

What do you say?

Yes? I think so.

He means to throw a
halter around our lives.

Sheep! Sheep!

-I need a piss, John.
-Sheep! Sheep!

-Our lives.
-Sheep! Sheep! Sheep!

Sheep! Sheep! Sheep!

You are me and me is you.

Thank you all.

Thank you. Enjoy yourselves
tonight! Enjoy yourselves.

Right, everybody. Ready?

Bow!

One, two, three, four.

It's harvest day.
We can do it today.

People are watching, Kitty.

Does it matter? Just today.

Wee baby!

I only wish our wives
were here this night, eh?

You should have told me.

Master Kent has timed
his revelation well.

The veal is his.

The ale is his too.

We are no longer hungry.

We're certainly not sober.

At least for now.

We have become like animals.

Goat drunk and lecherous.

Dog drunk and barking mad.

We do not dare to say

we count ourselves beyond
the Kingdom of God.

But certainly, we do not press
too closely to His bosom.

Rather, we are at
His fingertips.

He touches us

but only just.

It's her.

Mistress 'Belle Dame'.

Beautiful Mistress Beldam.

Mistress Beldam?

Master Kent offers you
shelter for the night.

Mistress?

Don't be afraid.

Master Kent and I,

we want you to be
safe, Mistress.

Keep her safe, Walt.

I didn't do nothing.

I didn't do nothing at all.

I'm no rat.

My name is Walter...

Walter Thirsk.

Did you hear that, mate?

He says he's Walter Thirsk.

The fucking fat
pig-fucking fuck face!

Walter Thirsk fucks
little piggies!

I see you're struggling...

Do you want me to find you a stone
to stand on, to ease your night?

Is this cunt for real?

Is he trying to say
I'm fucking totty?

There's nae short-arse
up here, pal.

Did you find her, Walt?

Did you get her shelter, Walt?

Put your back into it, Walt.

Where is she, Walt?

Do you like her, Walt, eh?

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Pathetic.

I'm sorry.

I'll come back at first
light and bring help, okay?

Some hero you are,
Walter Thirsk.

Hey, Walter.

Walter!

Walter Thirsk has got
a tick in his dick,

and a spoon up his ass, 'cause
he fucks little piggies!

Good night.

No one sleeps tonight!

No one gets to sleep tonight!

No one gets to sleep tonight!

-Wakey-wakey!
-Rise and shine!

-No one sleeps tonight!
-No one gets to sleep tonight!

I'm gonna party!

Party in the fucking pillory!

John!

John.

Help me drag a stone
for twinkle-toes there.

-What?
-Bring a stone up to the wee man there.

You broke your cup
of hospitality, mate.

What does it cost you?

It's right there.

How much does it
cost you, fucker?

What does it cost you, big man?

I know. They don't know
what they're saying.

You're not breaking bread
with them, Walt, are you?

Don't you look a
beggar for the day?

I'm supposed to be the
quill-carrier for the week.

I've got a quill for you 'ere.

Right in my scants.

Master Kent asked me personally
to show the gentleman around.

It's not like I want to.

We were thinking you'd make
the perfect Gleaning Queen.

And what a perfect
Gleaning Queen you'd make,

-eh, Walt?
-Have fun with your Mr Quill.

Are yous too blind to see that I'm
the only one fucking helping you?

-He's trying to help us.
-What's this then?

Do you want this?

Fucking bunch of tadgers,
look at yous all!

The state of yous!

It's not working.

-Maybe just hold the string.
-I think that'll be fine.

Hello.

-Fuck off, princess.
-Fud.

I know, Willowjack, I know.

This... is a noble day.

Anything you glean
is yours to keep.

For your kitchen
pots, your stews,

or most likely I know, John...

your ales!

In keeping with tradition,

after you will come the
cattle, and then the geese...

Willowjack, come
on, now. Here we go.

As I was saying, after
you will come the cattle,

and then the geese
for fattening,

and finally... the hogs.

And the oxen next!

We'll need to plough soon,
Master Kent, or we'll starve.

Mr Earle! It would be
a pleasing courtesy,

if you were to choose
our Gleaning Queen.

Is Master Kent mad?

We count on you to be an
even-handed judge. Yes?

He's a stranger,
he doesn't know us.

You...

will be the Gleaning Queen.

Your crown, my queen.

Ready?

On we go.

There we go. Oops-a-daisy.

This here belonged to
my wife. Many years ago.

But now, I think it
needs a new home.

I think it should...

belong to you.

Thank you.

Our Gleaning Queen!

Fucking knob-ends.

-You okay?
-I'm fucking fucked.

I'm struggling.

Fine place for us to end up.

I'm fucking sick
of these red roofs.

I wish we did burn
the fucking barn.

Off, get off.

Look at this, man.

They're fucking humiliating
us. Look at this!

Look at the state of my
boot. Look! Fucking hell!

These bastards knew what they were
fucking doing with the apples.

Fuck off, piggy!

Get tae fuck!

-Fuck.
-Fuck off!

South field, west field,

east field.

Unimpressive.

We give directions to where
we need to go, Mr Earle.

The Oak Wood.

-The Loch.
-Yes.

The Marsh.

And the Moor.

-Better.
-Better?

Yes.

I have a pair of pigs
called George and Gorge.

I want to find better
names for everything.

We're plain folk, Mr Earle.

Meadowsweet.

-Meadowsweet.
-Good for heartburn.

Dock leaves.

Very good for nettle stings.

Have you had any yet?

I have.

-Here's rough hawk.
-Rough hawk.

Hawkbit.

-What's it for?
-Jaundice.

Okay.

Rushes.

Rushes.

We use them to weave
and make baskets.

You can also dip them in
oil, use them for candles.

-What do we call them?
-Rushes.

Very good, Mr Earle.

-And what is this?
-Rowan tree.

Wards off witches' spells,
protects our beasts from evil.

Also cleans your insides out.

Everything here will
either give you the shits,

or keep you from getting it.

Writing their names is
your way of knowing them?

Naming things is knowing them.

Good morrow, Mother Derby.

Good morrow, Walter.

Good morrow.

Tom.

Lauren.

Esme.

Sorley.

Today's the day we
walk the commons.

Bump the children's heads
against the boundary stones.

So they know where they belong.

But you needn't worry.

You don't belong.

Well, you look lovely in it.

Agnes!

Agnes.

Did he really try and touch
your wee lassie back there?

Aye!

So close.

How dare he take the liberty
to touch my daughter.

I would have snapped
his hand off.

I don't trust that man.

I don't trust Master Kent
for bringing that man in.

Don't trust him with
his charts and his pen.

And picking our Gleaning Queen?

That's not right.

Where are you taking me?

-The bottom.
-The bottom?

Hey-ho, is anyone there?

Walt.

Matthew, Liam.

Your world is humbling
in its beauty.

How shall I name this place?

The Turd and Turf?

The Blossom Marsh.

You make good company, Walt.

I can use an assistant.

Come up to the manor with me.

I haven't been there
for a long time.

Walter.

Mind your hand, eh.

It should be light enough for the
light of a candle to shine through.

But mind your hand.

Can I share something with you?

Okay, this...

is my true account.

Ah, see. You see circles
in the same way I do.

-You see eyes everywhere, like me.
-Yes.

Everything is made up
of circles, isn't it?

Yeah.

Or beautiful...

breasts.

I can see where your mind is.

-So, you like it?
-Very much.

It's a map of dreams.

I'm proud of this one.

Wow. A small frog.

Let me.

He is as snug and personal
with his colours...

as I have learned
to be with clouds.

I have my blues.

This blue betokens harvest days.

It will not rain.

And that one promises
a crack in the frost.

Another, darker,

reveals itself only silently

when the sun has withdrawn
into his bedchamber,

but the windows of his heavens
are not yet quite closed.

This is the blue

that says we're
free to finish work

and rest.

When I was greener
and less timid...

I used to eat them.

They are beyond
forgetting, Mr Earle.

Fairy caps.

Come on, Mr Earle!

So, how did you come to be here?

-You really want to know?
-Yes.

Master Kent.

My mother was his milk nurse.

We were playmates
almost of an age.

Sometimes he let me
borrow his books,

so I was led to read
and write and calculate.

I managed these less
clumsily than he, I dare say.

He brought me with him when Lucy
Jordan agreed to be his wife,

took charge of this estate.

I tumbled into love with
everything I saw this first season.

You know, I don't wish to beat a
drum, but there is something of myself

I see in you, Mr Earle.

Something that is being lost.

Each dawn was like a genesis, I
wanted to immerse myself in it.

I was more of an
angel than a beast.

Such... unexpected solace for a
man most used to market towns.

When I discovered my own wife,

my Cecily,

Master Kent was friend enough

to let me go from his
employment as his service man.

I confided in him
my love for her.

Her hearty laugh,

her sturdiness,

and for the very
crumble of this earth.

He said, 'Then you should
go plough this earth.'

And that is my history.

Not a product of these commons,
just a visitor who stayed.

And you had babies?

That chance was taken from us.

Snatched.

She died too soon.

Bee-stung.

I'm sorry, Walt.

Give me a slap, Mr Earle.

Excuse me?

Give me a slap, Mr Earle.

I, I don't want to slap you.

Please give me a slap, Mr Earle.

A proper slap. Come on.

-Harder.
-Walter.

I need to feel it.

Harder.

Walter.

This is her burial
ground. My Cecily's.

Shared with Mistress Lucy.

They were taken from us
that spring, same spring.

'Tis a sorrow we share,

Master Kent and I.

Don't forget to mark that
on your map, Mr Earle.

-Was all this hers?
-Her inheritance.

But we have the common
right to graze and glean,

to cut wood and
peat, to draw water,

and grow food.

This is our land.

This is our land.

Walter, there is a gentleman who is
making a claim upon your freehold.

But she died during stillbirth.
Her parents produced no sons.

Master Kent is Mistress
Lucy's single heir.

By law, the husband
is not blood.

There is a cousin.
Edmund Jordan.

The changes Master Kent
employed for me to make,

they are not his own.

The sheep, the charts...

They are demanded by the cousin.

And he will arrive soon
to claim his entitlement.

Master Kent is keen that
I share this with you,

and with no other.

You cannot think it
is he who wishes them.

We don't even have a name
for all this, Mr Earle.

It's just the village

surrounded by the land.

Come on, then. Take a good look!

Look at what you've
done, look at him!

-We pray for sinners, for Your mercy...
-You stupid fucking imbeciles.

He did nothing to you!

...not only for the living, but also
for the dead. We pray for Your mercy...

We pray for sinners,
for Your mercy...

Look at him. What did we do?

Let's help!

No, no, no. You get away.

You and your fucking pigs!

You could have saved him!

He's dead because of
you and your hogs!

-The keys, Charles!
-Keys, keys.

You did this!

You and your fucking hogs.

Mr Earle!

You Walt, this is you!

Shut up!

This is your fault!

Oh, the leg.

-Here we go.
-Lift!

John!

John! John!

Charles!

-It was the pigs...
-What?

Is he gone?

Mind his leg!

Come on, be gentle.

-Quickly, hide him! Hide him.
-Don't just stand there.

-Why?
-Hide him where?

I've got it. I've got it.

The poor man!

-Gently, gently! Careful now.
-Hey! What's going on?

Can't hurt him any more.

He's coming. He's coming.

I'm sorry.

Hello, cousin.

Hello, cousin.

Well,

as you can see, we've
had quite the week.

We didn't expect you
today, to be honest. So...

What are you wearing?

Ah, that's better.

-Charles?
-Yes.

How has my cousin
Lucy's fine manor house

ended up as shabby and as
threadbare as a beggar's sack?

Please forgive the
neglect, cousin.

After my wife's passing, I...

I simplified life.

It is my judgement, that you...

make problems for yourself
by being too lenient.

A fire-setter should expect
to have his ears chopped off!

And then be hoisted
to the gibbet.

And the younger man must
still serve out his sentence.

I will personally see to the
burial of this wretched man.

My men will see to his
disposal. Cousin, sit.

I'm a little bit concerned

about your role
in the community.

Well, I like to think of
it as, as one big family.

And every one of us has a role to
play... for the good of the whole.

Yes, yes. It's not by design this
land has fallen into my hands.

I have no desire to
be a country mouse.

Also, agriculture
without profit is absurd.

Personally, I much prefer

to live in my house in town,
and simply check the figures.

What wool has arrived
to my warehouse,

what cloths my hired women
have woven in their looms,

what profits have
been made and lost

to middlemen.

You, sir. Cousin
Charles's friend.

Finish your map-making
before the week is out.

This gentleman, Mr Baynham, is
adept at preparing land for sheep.

This is not the first community
to benefit from his stewardship.

He will be guided
by your charts.

Before the first fall of snow, we
will be structuring everywhere.

Fences, dykes, walls.

-Reclaiming forestry.
-Yes.

Because how can it profit us,
that there are trees, producing...

shade?

We will be requiring a grid map.

You are familiar with
the latest styles?

Oh, certainly.

A record of the land, notated,

quite independent
of anything alive.

Excellent.

The commons will be cleared
and privately enclosed.

These lands are pasture now, they
will never need another plough.

Cousin, about that.

There's about 50 souls
to feed, thereabouts.

So, they can't, they
gotta eat something...

-They can't just eat grass.
-Yes.

There will be a place for a
few shearers and sheep boys.

Mr Baynham will employ
what hands he needs,

but we will sadly need to
make... cuts on lab our.

Forgive me.

It's Mr Earle, I think,

who should be grateful that he has
no duties other than with maps.

It's a little late to
begin to grow a conscience

about the land that you have
already drawn out of existence.

Don't you think?

No?

When I first started calling
at the Widow Gosse's cottage,

she and I would hardly
look each other in the eye.

Truly, I can only guess
what she sees in me.

And I suppose it is
the same for her.

She finds me inexplicable.

It's not finished yet, but.

I've been too
schooled, she says.

I made this for you.

I'm not even sure if
she and I are friends.

That is the state of widowhood.

We have no idea.

No scratch of wool
next to your skin.

Willowjack's dead.

Right.

That's it, show's over.

I mean you, Abel. Go.

Have your breakfasts.

Show some respect.

Everything's going...

and I don't know
how to stop this.

Walter Thirsk.

Cousin Charles's serviceman.

And closest friend, apparently.

My name's Edmund.

I'm here to make
improvements on our estate.

It's tragic, isn't it, what
happened to Cousin Lucy's mare?

Do you know who did it?

Well, then we must find out.

Charles seems to trust you.

Would you help me ease his pain?

Fantastic.

Horses have enormous,
pumping hearts.

So, blood would
have fountained...

from the animal's head,

the minute that
blade... went in.

So, whoever's responsible
has not escaped dry.

None of you shall stray a step
beyond the threshing barn today,

while my men, accompanied
by one of your own,

search for the spoiled garments.

And one of you cannot expect
to walk these lanes tomorrow,

but will be dragged,
by his heels,

to join the carcass...

Willowjack.

The carcass of...

Willowjack, the horse,

that he killed.

And his brother scoundrel,

who thought he could set
fire to his master's doves.

It's that woman.

Sorry, Charles.

Had to be done, you understand.

Let's have a drink.

And whose is this?

Kitty Gosse.

Never seen a pig do that before.

I'm so tired. Cannae
even keep my eyes open.

He better not be lying.

How could he help pull
our cottages apart?

Even yours.

He was caught between
a nettle and a thorn.

Quit defending him.
He's spineless.

That sorceress is behind it all.

She's put a curse onto our land.

See that fancy shawl
she had? She's a thief.

-Should have never let her go.
-You don't even know her!

And can you blame her?

Did you see our
men gawking at her,

each with a lock of her
hair in their lusty pockets?

We are all fair game.

The freehold of our fathers,
then our husbands, then our sons.

No.

The curse started with that
chart-maker, that gentleman.

Walter! Go soft, eh?

You'll rip it.

Remove the skin for me, please.

This one is the grid map
Master Jordan demanded.

As you can see, I have
plaited in the boundary line.

You may as well have
painted the yellow teeth

of a thousand sheep
surrounding us, Mr Earle.

I have walked this
thousands of times.

It's easy going

till you get up to
this ridge here.

This field has a slope,
so it drains well,

but the soil keeps.

You have to use the
cow track there,

at the ridge,

all the way over here...

until you get to here,
which is an open gap.

As you pass along
the lane of thorns,

into the field, where
on a normal harvest day,

you'd find our cattle
gleaning grain.

See this point? This is
when you're too closed in.

Have to climb a tree
for that or be a hawk.

Your account of our land is
not as honest as you'd hoped.

You've flattened us.

Your land is effortless.

A lie.

And yet, I can tell you
exactly where we are upon it.

But not where we will
be in the days to come.

Excuse me.

Have I offended you?

Mr Earle?

Have I said something
to hurt your feelings?

Mr Earle?

You know those people.

-The ones you call 'Beldam'?
-Aye.

Yes, yeah...

Three or four maps ago.

They are from a village
not unlike your own.

A village that you flattened.

Walter.

I am a chart-maker.

But I am not a fool.

I ply my trade, I make my living

and when my job is
complete, I move on.

How do you sleep?

How do you silence your demons?

Hello.

Hi.

So where did you
find that shawl?

Whose version of events
should I believe?

-Hey! Hey!
-Hey!

Lizzie Carr was bound to be
noticed by Master Jordan's men,

sporting such a fine
cloth upon her shoulders.

You're making it
up as you go along.

Anne Rogers is the fiery sort.

And Kitty is mulish
when she wants to be.

Wait. We're coming!
We're coming.

With Lizzie.

I can't imagine
them standing aside.

We're done for.

And I'm sure our arsonists judged
this the moment to pack up and go

before their foolish
secret was uncovered.

-Kitty! What's going on?
-Deirdre.

Hey. Here. Take her.

-Very pretty, aren't you?
-Who are you?

Let's have some fun. Come on.

Get off me, you creep!

Get off!

Let me go!

No, no.

-Not you, horse-man!
-Excuse me...

What's all this ruckus about?

What's going on
here? Who's in there?

I cannot condemn my
neighbours for closing ranks.

Gervase? Agnes?

-What's happened?
-Who wants to know?

You're not the man we trusted.

Not one of us after all.

-Excuse me?
-Helping them.

Traitor.

If you've kept
secrets from us...

I don't keep secrets.

Some want to march to the manor
house like maddened geese.

But they are only honking.

Others say let the
evening run its course.

Open the door, please!

The master's bound to intercede.

Get Cousin!

This is my house, goddamn it!

This is my house!

Comfy?

Yes, thank you.

Have you seen Lizzie?

Is Lizzie okay?

We've had enough of this!
Who killed the horse?

We haven't done anything.

-Is she the ringleader?
-Ringleader of what?

Who are the witches?

-Are you the witches?
-What are you talking about?

We're witches?

The girl... Is
she the sorceress?

-Is she the one to blame?
-Come on, ladies!

No, no, no! It's that woman...

Gentleman! It's that gentleman.

Which gentleman?

That chart-maker.

Tell him, little girl. Tell him.

About the chart-maker.

He was the one
that made me queen.

So he gave you the shawl?

Knew it.

Alchemy.

Do you play chess?

No.

I'll teach you.

-Lizzie!
-Master Kent!

The queen is the most powerful.

Master Kent!

We've come to see Master Kent.

He's unavailable.

Is he hiding?

Master Jordan, then.

Master Jordan is
also... unavailable.

We've come to fetch our women!

-First, the names of all complicit.
-Complicit?

-I hear there's witchery about.
-What!

That's a charge we don't even
let our children to make!

Listen. We believe
it to be coincidence

that fucking
chart-maker turns up,

and then those couple of cunts
in the pillory at the same time?

Aye, him and Walter Thirsk.

They've been in each
other's pockets.

Aye, they're as
thick as thieves.

And he's not even
here with us now.

Why's that? When his own
sweeting is in there?

They have to take
care of their own.

It's no surprise.

I'm not included in 'our own'.

I almost welcome it.

And I, the
chart-maker's assistant,

his vellum-maker,

I can be of no use to him now.

Show them to us.

-Go home.
-What?

No way.

Bring us the girls.

If you go home, everyone will
be safe, including the women.

-Let's see them first.
-Aye.

-Why did you take them?
-Show them in a window.

You seem like a reasonable man.

What are you gonna do?

Storm your master's house?

I wouldn't advise it.

Take them home.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow what?

Tomorrow.

You have my word.

-How good is your word?
-Aye, how good is your word?

As good as my handshake.

...if that was me in there...

Tomorrow.

He gave us his word.

Brother, I brought
you some water.

Listen...

I'm sorry about your friend.

-We trust him, John?
-Tonight?

Let's go. They've
got until tomorrow.

Let's go, Agnes. Come on.

-Let's go.
-Tomorrow!

Master Jordan must think there's
none more pitiful than us.

None more meek.

He's not wrong.

He will replace us
with nobler stock.

Not one of our people
came to help us.

Not even Walt.

We both know he was never
going to come anyway.

Wait!

Wait!

You're never gonna catch her.

Wait!

Don't be scared.

Wait, eh!

You destroyed our village.

Tomorrow this village is gone.

Your maps,

they ruin lives.

Mr Quill.

Mr 'Pity.'

Pity for what?

You don't feel
sorry for anything.

You think it is easier

to invent names for things,

when you know they
are already gone?

-What?
-Philip Earle?

Walter.

-Walter.
-Walter.

Walter.

Charles.

He...

He means to shear us all.

Master Jordan?

Well, stop it then, Charles.

He dressed me.

You going somewhere?

No.

I fear that... the women have...

endured a night of punishment.

Surely you defended them?

I mean, they locked
me in my room.

I was, I was confined.

I was left toothless.

What could I do, you know?

You did nothing?

I did nothing.

And you did nothing, too.

I don't deserve her, do I?

Probably not.

And what do we do now?

I don't know.

And Mr Earle?

Well, he was named ringleader.

My cousin's men are
looking for him just now.

Who's that man?

-What's he even doing here?
-I don't like him.

I don't know, ignore him.

What's he doing here?

Ripe as apples, you are.

Move!

Creep.

Feisty.

Where do you suppose that chart-maker
might've found some secret refuge?

Where's my daughter,
you son of a bitch?

It's Lizzie Carr I'm talking of.

You've seen her, haven't ya?

She's just a wee twig of a girl.

Your master has her
up at the big hoose.

She owned up to
all her wickedness.

And if she's just a twig,

she'll burn nicely like
those other she-devils.

We'll have a bit of
charcoal from her yet.

You pig!

What have you done?

You touch her, I will kill you!

Fucking pig!

Creepy bastard!

Look at him now.

May God forgive me.

He's bringing soldiers.

There's no misunderstanding now.

We're done for.

I'm dead.

The world outside the village cannot be
as frightening as Master Kent claims it.

But no matter what

it will be new for us.

I want to see this world.

-Ready?
-Ready.

Here.

Thank you!

Liam!

Liam!

Where are you going?

Nobody knows.

John!

What about Kitty, huh?

Anne Rogers?

Your wee niece Lizzie Carr?

You're gonna leave 'em behind?

Our staying won't save them.

And little Lizzie?

At best she'll be orphaned.

Her mum and dad
set upon that man.

They cannae expect to live.

Nor can any Carr.

You backed a broken horse.

Your names will be
forgotten in towns,

your faces won't
ring a bell, John.

Better than being hunted down,

and left to clog up the rivers.

Save yourself, Walt.

Take care of yourself.

Ah, just the man
I'm looking for.

Come in, help yourself.

What happened to
your face, Walt?

You cannae have gotten
much sleep last night, eh?

And counting sheep
is not the remedy.

So, firstly, since you
still have your tongue,

an account of what happened
in the village this morning.

Has anyone remained?

No one has stayed
who's born here.

Did they speak of their return?

No.

What frightened mice
your neighbours are.

Well. We leave today, also.

With Cousin Charles
in our good company.

So you are leaving?

-Yes.
-Yes.

Yours has been a
village of enough.

Soon, it will be a
settlement of plenty.

Wouldn't that be nice, Walt?

My steward Baynham
has already ridden off

to organise the
purchase of the sheep.

So, in the coming months, you can
expect the arrival of hired hands,

who will lodge in
your empty cottages,

while trees are cut
and stalls are built.

And then, when the autumn
comes, the shepherds will arrive

and they will carry with
them coins for your wage.

So you want me to stay, Charles?

Unfortunately, you can
rely only upon yourself

for company, in the beginning.

Yourself and Mr Pillory.

To my reckoning, the man has
three more days to serve,

so don't show him lenience, otherwise
you really will be on your own.

I have your word?

Set him free only when
the hour lets him free?

I'll need the keys.

Keys.

I... I spoke to Cousin,

and I promise you, Walt,

the women, they will be released

when we reach our new home.

It's my demand to see

Kitty, Anne and Lizzie,

to see them walk
freely on the streets.

I promise you.

-Do you remember this game?
-Aye.

What about this game?

Yes!

Yes! Yes!

I win!

You win, Charles.

You're very short,
Charles, aren't you.

Such a small creature.

Very snappy, very quick.

You'd look handsome
tall, Charles.

Ah, to be back in town!

You must be very glad to
be leaving this place.

Stinks of shit.

There's no one left except me.

You can walk among our cottages

and help yourselves
to whatever you want.

What's your name?

That's mine to keep.

Ploughing is our sacrament.

Our solemn oath.

And not to mark our future in the
soil, before the winter comes,

is to say there's
no next spring.

Master Jordan said,

'You'll never need
the plough again.'

To this I say,

I will defend the coming spring.