Original subtitles

Previously...

Now that your father has passed,

there are plenty of folk more than eager

to see the demise of Clan MacKenzie.

'Tis a time for celebration, is it not?

Ye ken she loved Da more than most.

And wi' him gone, she's lost her power.

Have you seen Ellen?

Some saw her going off with Malcolm Grant.

Dougal, have ye lost yer way?

We must make amends without delay.

Where in God's name have you been?

What does that matter?

On principle alone, I will not tell you.

Give Ellen to Malcolm Grant.

How is it you came into the service of the Grants?

Met Malcolm in Inverness, asked me to be their bladier.

Ah, thereby hangs a tale.

You have to be unseen.

Ah!

Sweetheart?

♪ Long the way ♪

♪ O'er the bridge I crossed ♪

♪ For my love ♪

♪ For my love that's lost ♪

♪ By the brae ♪

♪ In the verdant moss ♪

♪ Where I watch Where I wait ♪

♪ For my love that's lost ♪

♪ Hi a bho ♪

♪ Hoireann eile o ♪

♪ Hi a bho ♪

♪ Fair a leo fair a lè ♪

♪ Hi a bho ♪

♪ Hoireann eile o ♪

♪ 'S tu mo run 'S tu mo ghràdh ♪

♪ Agus m' eudail o ♪

Go! Go! Move, move!

Come on!

Where's Private Charlton?

Who was the last man to see Private Charlton?

Captain!

Captain, one of my men hasn't returned.

That's unfortunate, Lieutenant.

Sir, he's young, sir, and bloody brave.

Please, I can go back. I can...

I'm sorry.

Sir...

I made a promise to the men

that I wouldn't leave anyone behind this time.

-Please... -You did make a promise...

to follow orders in His Majesty's Army.

Your order is to stand down. Am I understood?

Sir...

I think I could do it, sir, if you'd just let me try.

I said stand down. Do you hear me?

Two, three.

Two, three.

Beauchamp!

Easy.

Easy now. Easy.

Make room. Make room.

All right, Willie, lad. All right.

Let's have a look.

It's just a Blighty wound, Willie.

You mean enough to send me home?

That's right, Private. That's right.

This is for my mother.

I wanted to say sorry for joining up.

Can you help me get it to her?

Certainly not.

You can give it to her yourself, all right?

-Good man. -Beauchamp.

You just rest, Willie.

You disobeyed a direct order, Beauchamp.

I'd be quite within my rights to shoot you.

But if I did,

I fear the regiment would run me through.

His mother deserved to have him home, sir...

one way or the other.

Indeed she does.

In the future, Lieutenant, if you have one...

try to restrain yourself.

You have my word, sir.

As you were.

"To whom it may concern",

I write to you from hell on Earth...

the Western Front.

Here I have learned a thousand different ways to suffer,

countless different ways to die.

I've lost more friends than I care to remember,

but even death itself is kinder

than some of the things that I have seen,

things that I wish I could erase from my mind

with every fiber of my being.

All around me,

brave souls cling to their last shreds of dignity,

and men who once laughed and loved

lie alongside boys

who have barely had time to do either,

"buried in some bloodied bit of foreign soil."

Corporal.

"It is possible to withstand physical pain",

but an injured mind is, I fear, irreparable,

particularly one bearing the immortal wounds of war.

I find myself destined, perhaps,

to join the hordes of men

who are aching for peace and waiting for death,

not fearing it as such,

not the when or the where of it,

not even the how, but the why.

And so, before that time comes,

I write not just as a soldier but as a witness

to the tragedy that's unfolding daily

in this infernal place

to let you know that we are trying,

holding on to sanity as best we can,

holding on to a dwindling hope.

"But fear is a powerful poison."

You're the only person I know who'd take a break from reading

to read even more.

What is it today? Botany? Physics? Chemistry?

Biochemistry.

Well, when your break is over,

have a look at the new work assignments.

Oh, goodness me.

-Blimmin' trolley! -Oh, my goodness, sorry.

You can barely make out a word.

-Have that, Julia. -Oh, thank you very much.

Think I can remember.

Uh...

Uh, Broodseinde,

Regiments 4 and 9 on Desk A,

uh, Poelcappelle, Regiments 8 and 11

on Desk E,

and Passchendaele,

Regiments 6, 12, and 99

on C and J.

I have no idea how you do that,

but it certainly makes my life easier.

I'll take Passchendaele, then.

"Living through these incredibly uncertain times,

is it not enough of a thrill for you?"

You need to be careful, Julia.

All this civil-disobedience stuff.

I remember the hunger strikes

and that woman who died jumping in front of the king's horse.

-Emily Davison? -Mm.

Well, things are different now.

We're turning the tide of public opinion in our favor

-with our war work. -"We"?

I'm very proud of the work we do.

I just hope that one day,

like many of the highly educated women involved,

that I'll be admitted to university

and eventually earn a degree.

They're never going to award women a degree, surely.

The first matriculated female undergraduates

at a British university were the Edinburgh Seven, 1869.

Yes, they may not have been permitted to graduate...

I knew it.

...but there have been many since-remarkable women.

You have a memory like a bloody steel trap.

There's one here about a soldier

who had to have both arms amputated because of gangrene.

Says his comrades nicknamed him Octopus.

It's awful, isn't it?

If we didn't laugh, we'd sob for all of eternity.

I thought I'd start to feel numb to it after three years.

I don't think I'll ever get used to the fact

that so many of them are so very young.

Come on, then, they'll be waiting for us to finish.

Mother, I hope this short note finds you well.

My dearest daughter Phyllis...

I hope this short note finds you well.

I'm sending all my love.

Weather has been...

I am so very weary...

Terrible feeling...

I must close now.

Keep me in your prayers.

Please remember me...

"I suppose I could have written this letter"

to my brother,

but I realized that every man in Passchendaele

is a brother of mine.

Only here, you see, brother slays brother

in a world where their father, God Himself, is dead.

So, instead, this is an open letter

to ask quite sincerely what is there to live for?

-Passchendaele. -Yes. Yes, of course.

"If God is not dead, then He has forgotten us."

And I am starting to forget, perhaps,

not what we are fighting for

but what we are dying for.

"Yours, Lieutenant Henry Beauchamp."

"Dear Lieutenant Beauchamp,"

you asked a difficult question,

to which there is no easy answer,

but I feel compelled to reply.

My name is Julia Moriston,

and like you, I often wonder why.

Why must we live through this abominable war?

I do not know.

But the naturalist in me finds comfort

in the arms of Mother Nature.

Nature always finds a way.

I'm reminded of the raindrop-

never too small or insignificant

to make a difference,

beautifully volatile, evaporating,

falling as precipitation,

joining the rivers until it becomes the ocean.

There is a certain alchemy to it.

We, too, are shaped and changed by our suffering

until we are strong enough, like water,

to carve our way through rock.

I've known suffering and grief.

When my parents died,

I was determined to carry on doing

what I knew would make them proud.

I paused my studies to make my own small contribution

to the war effort.

So I know what it is to feel alone

and to ask why.

When all else fails...

Beauchamp.

...take a deep breath

and remember England is still here.

Do not give up, Lieutenant.

And if you need to confide in someone,

you may write back to me.

"And, perhaps boldly, I shall expect a reply."

Gas! Gas, gas, gas!

"Dear Julia",

I hardly know where to begin, but you are right.

There was profound magic in your words,

some strange alchemy

"that produced in me a glimmer of hope."

"Dear Henry",

remember that our very existence itself

is miraculous.

As human beings, we have a profound capacity

"for love and goodness."

"Julia, I have been devouring your letters.

I so hope you got my last ones in order.

Tuesday's might arrive after Wednesday's."

"Henry, have you heard from your brother Lam?

Has he uncovered a new Egyptian pharaoh?"

"I can't wait to hear what you've been up to,

what you've been reading this week.

You still in your Scottish phase?"

"I adore Scotland- the flora and the fauna",

the landscape, the archaeology,

something inescapably romantic about all of it.

Folklorist J.F. Campbell writes of a man

who joins the circle dance

of a faerie ring in the Highlands.

When he comes out, he feels as though

he's only been gone for a moment,

but, really, it's been years.

That's how our letters feel to me.

"I could spend an eternity in the dance of our words."

"The poet John Donne writes,"

"More than kisses, letters mingle souls."

I think you know by now that I find in you

a kindred spirit, a soulmate.

But just to be on the safe side,

"I'm sealing this letter with a kiss."

"I'll raise you some Robert Burns"

for your John Donne.

"My heart's in the Highlands.

"My heart is not here.

My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer."

"Or it would be, if it wasn't on the battlefield with you."

"Should I be worried?"

Are you going to run off with some handsome Highlander?

I've never made the journey,

but I've always longed to visit Scotland.

Sounds as if I might have to start packing,

if only to stay in this faerie dance with you.

As it happens,

I am trying to convince my commanding officer

to allow me my leave in the coming month.

Not enough time for a trip all the way up north,

"but London, perhaps."

"That would be wonderful."

Did you know that my greatest fear is not death

"but us never having the chance to meet?"

Bailwick.

Bellam.

-Beauchamp. -Yes.

Whoo-hoo! Lefty has another one from his Betty.

Hook, line and sinker.

He's not even seen...

Help! Help!

Get me out!

"Julia, I have decided to call you my hope",

for that is what you are to me.

"Fingers crossed my leave will come through."

"Hope springs eternal."

I've never heard your voice, Henry,

but the silence is deafening.

It's been two weeks and a day since your last letter.

I won't despair just yet, since "hope" is our byword,

but I am frightened, Henry."

Is he still intending to take his leave?

Last I heard, if reinforcements arrive.

And if he's still...

You might have to brace yourself, my dear.

Hope springs eternal.

Henry?

Julia.

My hope.

Oh, I don't know what I'm doing.

Ah. Wait, wait, wait, wait.

You're not worried that we're not married yet, are you?

"Yet"? Not exactly up there with the proposals

of great literary masterpieces.

But, yes, I accept.

Mm.

Blasted thing.

You know, I thought I'd have to put away my dreams

to go to war, but...

oh, here you are.

-Oh. -Oh. Oh, God.

Oh, stay still. Stay still!

For God's sake.

Oh, what was it we promised each other, again?

For richer or poorer, for better or worse.

Through doors wide and narrow.

Yes, my darling, something like that.

-Oh. -Oh, I can't believe we did it.

I'm so very glad the priest was able to fit us in.

So am I.

Well, welcome home, Mrs. Beauchamp.

I love you, Henry.

Henry, my darling, are you still awake?

I don't like to blow my own trumpet,

but it seems I am quite the horologist.

Henry?

Henry.

No! Oh, God!

There's gas everywhere! There's gas! There's gas!

-It's okay. Come back to me. -Oh, God! Oh, God!

-Come back to me. -Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!

You're in a flat in London with me.

Oh, God. Oh.

You are here.

Dear Lieutenant Beauchamp, my name is Julia Moriston,

and like you, I often wonder why.

Julia. Julia.

My hope.

Yes, my darling.

Hold on to your hope.

My ring.

Oh, no.

Henry?

Henry!

This isn't funny!

Henry!

Henry!

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Have you...

have you by any chance seen a man on this road?

Wavy hair, blue eyes?

We had an accident in our motorcar,

my husband and I, and somehow we were separated.

Oh, uh, I-I don't know Gaelic, I'm afraid.

Do you speak any English at all?

Ah, Sassenach.

Please, can you help me?

Perhaps-perhaps you could-

you could ask the authorities in Inverness,

uh, to-to send help?

Inbhir Nis?

Inverness, yes, yes, yes. Yes, that's right.

Oh, I'd be ever so grateful.

Inbhir Nis. Inverness.

Oh, no.

See, I have to stay here to look for my husband.

What are you...

No!

Get off of me!

No! No!

Let me...

Julia!

Feeling a wee bit better, dearie?

What-what are you doing?

Just trying to help, if you'll let me.

Where am I?

Castle Leathers.

I'm Mistress Porter, housekeeper.

And the people that brought me here?

The Connors've gone, lass.

Done their part.

I don't understand.

Delivered ye here as payment for their debts.

They owed a fair amount.

Get... ah!

No! Get your hands off me!

My, my, my, a Sassenach!

And a fiery one.

You can't keep me here like some sort of prisoner.

I hope you didn't speak to your last master this way.

"Master"?

Mistress Porter,

a maidservant needs more suitable attire.

Yes, m'laird.

I am not your maidservant.

I am Julia Beauchamp of Hyde Park, London.

I think you'll find that you're now the property

of Simon Beaufort Fraser of Leathers.

Lord Lovat.

Father.

We should press for the Connors' coin instead.

And why on earth would I do that?

The coffers are dwindling. The house is in need of repair.

That may be, but I have my own particular needs

to think of as well.

Please.

Excuse me. Excuse me, gentlemen!

Sassenach.

Sassenach?

What on earth?

Oh, Julia...

what has happened to us?

Excuse me, sir, I'm, uh- I'm looking for a lady.

-Uh, dark hair, blue eyes. -A lady?

Oh, you'll not find one of those in here, sir.

There's a few bonnie, uh...

bonnie faces right enough, Sassenach.

But, uh, all of them have bollocks.

Forgive me.

Aye, what are you having?

Yes. I'll have a, uh- a pint of ale, please.

Ale it is, then.

Well, sir, I am rather urgently looking for a lady

by the name of Julia Beauchamp. If...

Uh, sorry, I don't seem to, uh, have any, um...

You owe me.

As I was saying, Mr. Grant,

the terms we're proposing are quite generous.

Three dwellings on fertile land that borders Grant land

in exchange for monies owed.

Ah, a surprisingly generous offer from the Campbells.

-Do you think so? -Aye.

I can assure you, Mr. Grant,

of the good condition of the properties mentioned.

You'd be able to house a fair few families.

Aye, I think your da will approve.

Do hope they brought the deeds to those properties, hmm?

What in God's name did he just say?

Wait!

Ah!

How dare you involve yourself in clan matters?

I'm sorry! Look, please, I meant nothing by it.

Should have kept your mouth closed, then.

Wait!

Maybe slit his throat first.

Hold.

Now, what were you saying in there?

You were kind enough to pay for my ale.

I was merely pointing out what I'm sure you already noticed.

Please, I don't want to be involved.

Too late for that now.

Tell me what you meant by what you said.

You'll tell that to my father.

You'll begin with the washing and mending

and windows and stairs.

The chamber pots need emptying as well,

and you'll assist the cook, of course.

Please, ma'am.

Mistress Porter.

Mistress Porter, I don't belong here.

I came to the Highlands with my husband on holiday.

Holy day?

Which holy day would that be?

He had business in Edinburgh, so we thought we'd turn it

into a longer trip, but...

I cannot explain it. I-I lost him.

How long has it been since his passing?

No, he hasn't- he hasn't passed away.

He's alive.

And he must be looking for me.

Well, he hasna found ye yet, has he?

If it's been more than a fortnight, then...

I doubt he's coming for you now.

What-what day is it now?

Must have knocked the sense out of you.

It's a Saturday.

Saturday.

Saturday when?

Next, you'll be asking me what year it is,

or who sits upon the throne.

K- King George V.

King George I...

in the year of our Lord 1714.

Goodness me.

No, it... it... it can't be.

I...

I have a husband.

I have-I have a daughter, Claire.

I-I need to get back to them. I must.

I'm sorry for you, lass...

but you've been sold to us, and here you'll stay.

But I have no patience

for impertinence or disobedience, mind you,

and neither does the laird.

And one last thing...

on occasion...

our laird can be most attentive.

Try not to linger in his presence.

Now, wash that look off your face

and come and find me in the kitchen.

Our laird, Isaac Grant,

I present Mr. Henry Beauchamp.

My son says you have something to tell me.

It was merely an observation.

"An observation"?

I've been trying to get

what the Campbells owe me for months,

so I do hope that what you have for me

is more than an observation, Sassenach.

Yes, well, in-in my experience as a solicitor,

you know, uh, a lack of legal paperwork

is never a good sign when it comes to property.

That's it?

Uh...

Well...

it seems you're unfamiliar with how we conduct our affairs

here in the Highlands.

A man's word is his bond.

And quite right.

And I shan't trouble you any further.

If you'd just kindly let me go, I could, uh...

Tell him what you told me at the well.

Well, I mean, judging by what I heard,

you know...

...um, if you were to accept

the properties that the other party are offering...

The Campbells.

The Campbells, uh, were offering,

um, there would be no guarantee

of ownership on the land on which they sit.

You see, the written contract

must state that you would own the land

and collect the rents, not the, um-the Campbells.

Told you, Da.

He has an eye for the particulars.

Well, with all due respect,

it wasn't the particulars that drew my attention,

it was your advisor.

Pádraig Druiminn is my bladier.

Apart from my son here,

he's my most trusted counsel

and my right hand in all matters.

What observation do you have to make about him, then?

Uh...

He was misrepresenting you.

Why don't you search this most trusted of bladiers

for a sack of coins?

Not his usual purse.

Mr. Bug.

You're canny...

...for a Sassenach.

How would you like to be my new bladier?

-What about the other fellow? -Never mind him.

Well, unfortunately,

there are other matters occupying my time.

See, I'm actually urgently searching for someone.

Our business would take you all across the Grant lands

and beyond.

An opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, perhaps.

I'm afraid, as much as I would like to accept...

Well, you're not obliged, of course.

You're free to continue on your own.

And good luck to you.

But...

an Englishman...

alone in the Highlands...

without protection...

You would have all this at your disposal,

and the strength of the Grant name behind you.

I see.

Well, very well, then.

I'd like to accept.

Let's have a dram.

What are you doing in here?

Oh, forgive me, sir. I-I was dusting.

I'll leave you to your work.

Oh, there's no work that cannot wait

when there's a bonnie English rose before me.

You are too kind, sir.

Oh, how very observant of you.

Kind.

Handsome, some might say.

The perfect gentleman.

Well, I'm-I'm finished in here.

I have some mending to do for Mistress Porter, so I...

Ah, ah.

I'm the laird...

and you'll do as I say.

Oh, here I am, Mistress Porter.

Oh.

Could have sworn I heard her calling me.

Very well.

Not this time.

You've enough there for a long journey.

Please, sir.

Brian. Fraser.

Mr. Fraser, I believe your father is the laird.

I don't belong here.

I'm trying to find my husband. Please let me go, I beg you.

That may be true,

but you'll no' find him tonight.

There's a storm coming.

A Highland storm's unforgiving.

If you're caught out here, you'll soon be humbled

or suffer a fate much worse.

I've weathered many a storm.

I appreciate your concern, but I will take my chances.

My da willna.

He'll send his man Balloch here after you.

A matter of pride.

Please.

Balloch! No!

No! Please!

Get your hands off of me!

You-no!

Let me-let me go!

No! No!

Let me go! No!

What have you to say for yourself?

I have told you, I do not belong here.

I am no one's prisoner or servant, for that matter.

I was doing what anyone in my position would have done.

Twenty should be lesson enough

to temper that insolence.

Father, it wasna her. 'Twas me.

Ask Balloch, here.

I aided her in her attempt.

I heard her pleas to you, and...

well, I convinced her to go.

Mistress Porter,

take our new maidservant to her quarters

and make sure that she's secured for the night.

Give him the twenty, then.

-No. -No.

Don't make me say it again or you'll both be joining him.

Dinna fash, Ma. 'Tis only a few lashes.

Would you like to count?

Or shall I?

The bladier's quarters.

I think you'll find it to your liking.

If not, you can sleep in the barn

with the other beasts.

You don't like me much, do you?

Dinna ken you well enough to have formed an opinion.

Ah...

your predecessor.

Now, him, I didna like much at all.

I must apologize for the conduct

of the younger MacKenzie.

Since the death of his father this past month,

he's not been himself.

No, I'd say that his fisticuffs spoke quite clearly

to the younger Grant's face.

Hmm?

The laird is not pleased.

What can I do on behalf of the MacKenzies

to make things right with the Grants?

I'm not sure that there is anything you can do.

Perhaps you might consider an offer...

...a betrothal

between our Ellen MacKenzie and Malcolm Grant,

their marriage come harvest time.

A- a gesture of peace and an alliance

that will benefit both clans.

The laird...

he wants Dougal MacKenzie's head,

not his sister's hand.

You're still a stranger in these parts.

Not been with the Grants long at all.

Here at the gathering, I couldn't help but notice

that you've been asking for a woman.

There are plenty to hand, but none to your liking?

No.

I have, um...

particular tastes.

Perhaps we could help each other.

You bring an offer of a betrothal to the Grants,

and I will...

offer my assistance

in satisfying your particular tastes.

I will put your offer before the laird.

"My dearest Henry",

my last memory with you was at the circle of stones.

There was a deafening sound, like an angry swarm of bees,

and then you were gone.

Or perhaps I was.

Perhaps I am dead.

Perhaps I've lost my mind.

"Have I fallen through the looking glass?"

"My dearest Julia",

everywhere I turn, I search for your face,

but it remains elusive.

Each day, I am forced to play a role,

to wear a mask of bravery that feels foreign to me.

The memory of you and Claire is my only solace-

the single thread keeping me tethered to hope.

Without you, I am adrift,

a man lost in a sea of uncertainty

"and longing."

"I am the same as I ever was-"

mad with love for you,

our beautiful Claire, and our unborn child.

But my circumstances have changed.

There are some unfathomable obstacles

in our path.

I don't know how this letter could possibly reach you.

"Perhaps it will simply be a record of my thoughts."

"I vow to you with every fiber of my being"

that I will find my way back to you.

No matter the distance or the time that separates us,

"I will not rest until we are reunited."

"You are surely home by now with our darling girl."

I must believe that you are.

How could I bear this otherwise?

Kiss her for me.

Tell her I love her.

I promise to find a way to both of you.

Just as your first letter found me,

"I'll find a way back to you."

"You are my anchor, my love,"

and my reason for enduring this madness.

Sealed with a kiss,

"Henry."