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DEDICATED TO ETIENNE DE RYCK

FLANDERS, 100 YEARS AGO

-He's seized up. -How will you get the lid on?

The coffin has to be closed.

You'll have to break his bones.

I'll look for a good job for Soo in Geel. Rik's going to work in the town.

Kamiel can join the monks with no shoes.

-What about you? -Me?

That's simple. Father said: "Wortel, the field is your passion."

-So it's very simple. -Yes.

Father said: "The field is like a beautiful woman.

She seduces you and you crawl onto her body.

To start with she does her best to frustrate you, like all women.

You cajole her and flatter her. And then," Father said,

"Then she softens. She gives herself completely. Cannot be stopped."

I think it's high time you got married, Wortel.

A good farmer needs a good farmer's wife. A faithful helper by his side.

"Especially in bed," said Father.

But she mustn't stay in it. She has to work, too.

Feed man and beast, make butter, keep the yard clean.

Or it won't work.

What about Our Lord? Don't forget Our Lord.

It won't work without Him.

Some water and some sun now and then. Everyone knows that.

All those candles we light to ward off slugs and worms.

And thunder and lightning. And drought and wet weather.

If you don't become my wife, the soil will be red with blood.

-Just like a battlefield. -No knives.

No knives.

No knives, lads.

-We can do it without them. -That's even better. Bare knuckles.

We've got a lifetime in front of us. A wonderful lifetime, Fien.

That's it. I'm exhausted.

My head.

-It's as heavy as lead. -Go and sit behind that sheaf.

We should go on a pilgrimage.

To Scherpenheuvel. Where else is there? Oostakker.

To Peutie, the priest says.

Has he come up with something new again?

-It's a lot better. -As long as it lasts.

-We should give the priest something. -The priest. Again.

Not a bad idea. We've got to slaughter a pig.

We can give him the head.

-Why? -Because my headache has gone.

He'd much rather have two hams.

-Wortel, Wortel. -Franelle.

The dyke has given way.

Everything is flooding. The rats are running all over the land.

Leave the horse and the cows.

The other animals… Here, you. The others have to go inside.

-Come here, beautiful. -It's coming.

-I've mended the dyke. -You?

-Me… and all the others. -And?

Haven't you noticed anything?

It's just like Noah's Ark.

-Buy some matches from me? -I'll make you a sandwich.

What a beautiful child! Has it started teething?

Keep your nasty hand off my child.

Make sure you can keep it alive.

Get off my farm. Or I'll whet my scythe on your bones.

And I'll burn you, to prevent the plague.

How could Him up there do this to me?

I'll never get over it.

He can tell me what I did to deserve it.

-If I get up there… -You can't be sure of that.

I must know.

Otherwise…

Otherwise…

I'll never sing hallelujah again. He can sing it Himself.

Chin up, Wortel!

Be happy. She's an angel in heaven.

Our Lord never strikes without blessing. - It's all a bit muddled.

Soon I'll say be saying thank you for being struck.

It must be two. - I'll christen them both together.

I… I knocked off the cock bird. I did.

Well done.

Your wish has come true.

Ossekop was as jealous as a woman.

You should stop seeing Ossekop.

What are you saying? He's my best friend.

Ossekop…

He can't keep his hands to himself.

Bloody…

Think of the children. You don't want to be a murderer, do you?

-I've got to smash something or I'll die. -Wait, wait a moment.

Not finished yet?

-Everything's broken. Nothing's left. -I need to smash something else.

-Isn't it over yet? -Is that our wedding present?

-What's the matter, Wortel? -The matter, Ossekop?

-Those are your hands. -I don't understand.

I understand you only too well.

And that's your head, Ossekop.

Leave my wife alone. Understand?

He's gone mad.

You should cut your own head in half!

You're always in the mill, with Lorejas' maid.

I wanted to ask you something.

Can we bring Julia to see your bull tomorrow?

I've arranged with Lorejas that Julia is going to see his bull tomorrow.

In the morning.

I'll see he's in good shape. I'll give him ten eggs on, with pepper and salt.

Agreed.

-Where is Lorejas? -He's not home.

-Are we alone? -Alone. With those two.

And now we wait a while.

It will take a while, I think.

I don't really know how it works.

The bull! I forgot to tie him up!

Good God! You stupid cow!

My children!

Amelie!

Never again. I'd rather cut my throat with a breadsaw.

God, help Your poor Wortel.

How on earth did that happen?

I thought you knew what you were doing.

How on earth was it possible?

Bloody hell. Bloody, bloody, bloody hell.

And, beloved parishioners,

together with your guardian angel,

you will be examining your conscience at this time.

And going to sanctifying Easter confession.

Don't forget it. Together with your guardian angel.

Pa, what is a guardian angel?

-What does he look like? -Beautiful. Very beautiful.

For everyone here…

If you're good, he will make sure nothing happens to you.

Your guardian angel called Ossekop…

to the field to protect you from that bull that had got loose.

Weren't you good, Pa?

-Where? Why? -Well,

because your guardian angel had abandoned you.

What?

-When? -He couldn't stop the bull.

Let us pray.

Oh, holy angels, our protectors, defend us in the battle,

-so that we do not perish… -Now what?

In the frightening judgement.

-I'm going to have a beer. -The Last Judgement.

Of our sins. Amen.

Have you heard? My girl has gone mad.

How come? You don't go mad because you want to.

From fright. She's had a child.

-That's your fault, I suppose? -Why my fault?

What about Dox? And you? And all the other lechers round here.

October, November, December, January, February…

It was about time I saw you here.

You're the last one to come to Easter confession.

Go on, say it.

Go on, lad. Say it.

I got…

… a bit cross with Ossekop because he was after Fien. The bastard!

He saved your children when the bull broke loose.

Go on. What else?

I put a tiny bit of water in the milk. Just the once, Father.

Yes, I know. What else?

That's all, I think.

Am I supposed to believe that?

Have faith, it moves mountains.

You always say that.

Fien.

I…

-I have to tell you something. -I'm listening.

I wish I were dead, Fien.

You don't die because you want to.

I wish I were dead.

What I really wanted to say is…

-I love you so much. -Come here, silly.

You made a good confession. After sin comes remorse.

But it's the most beautiful thing there is.

Don't forget, it is easier to fall than to stand up.

-What are you trying to say? -No more than that.

God's best behaved child can stray.

Take St. Augustine. What did he get up to with women?

St. Paul.

He killed the first Christians like flies in October.

October? Why October?

Father.

I've got to tell you everything.

I can't explain.

Sometimes you don't know what's going on in your head and body.

Was it your head? I don't believe that.

Your body's playing tricks on you.

I don't understand. Head or body, isn't that the same?

What do you want to tell me?

Well, I…

Lorejas's maid has…

You know, when that bull got loose…

She'd forgotten to tie him up.

-When? -In October.

-And where were you then? -Me?

In the flour.

And the maid?

Also in the flour.

I regret it so much, Father. My Fien is a good woman.

When I think, she told me about Ossekop…

Be quiet about him. You've got enough problems of your own.

-Did it happen again afterwards? -No, damn it.

-Only once. I swear. -Don't swear.

Life is not a joke.

But I have to laugh.

You trust me more on your farm than in my confessional.

Here…

Here I'm at home.

Isn't Jan with you? Why don't you sit down?

God, God, it's going to kill me, cried the girl.

There he comes, behind the others, hanging his head and pale faced.

He's half dead, the poor thing.

It may be because he's really happy, Trien.

"How fortunate for you, Father," she bellowed. "Not being able to see well."

Meanwhile, Jan came closer…

There's enough to pay the rent.

Too much, if it's for Mrs. Pimpelmuis.

No hares. The traps were empty.

Can you get a hare by New Year?

By tomorrow morning. Three this time.

I'll teach them to put up the rent so much.

-Wortel, that Fons of yours… -What about our Fons?

-He's courting. -That 's a sign he's healthy.

A girl from the fresh cheese corner.

A really common, rude wench.

Trash.

She's not good enough for him, not for a farmer's son.

What do you know about things like that?

Damn. Damn.

Damn.

-You'll get into trouble. -You did what you wanted, so did I.

-You can't compare the two. -No, you can't.

Have you taken a look at your mother? And at that common wench?

It's a scandal.

I've taken a very good look at her. She's got a bloody fantastic body.

Here, you.

Here. Here.

I think the time has come.

I've got a letter from the army.

For Alfons Verhaegen.

Read it out, constable.

-Alfons Verhaegen must go to Arlon. -What? To Wallonia?

Excellent. Then he'll be away from that creature.

I'm expecting a baby.

-That's not so terrible. -What? Not terrible?

-You're a mug, lad. -It was the same for you.

But, of course, you didn't have to join the army.

We were pleased a child was on its way.

Father had the farm. We enjoyed working.

And we got married.

When Fons gets out of the army, he can get married.

You can't stand in their way any longer.

Can you see them getting married? Those two?

Frisine is a better woman than you say.

I don't know what you've got against her.

Fons and Frisine can get married the same day as Lisa and me.

A good idea, Sus. And Frisine can come and work here on the farm.

Shall I write and tell him that he's become a father?

-A letter from a friend. About Fons. -What about Fons?

I can't read that scribble.

He's hanging around with some woman from some second-rate café.

She used to be a dancer in Brussels.

She's more than ten years older than him.

The priest must write a letter.

Otherwise I'll knock him and his dancer's heads together so hard

that they'll turn black and blue.

They'll soon cool off.

Do you know what that Fons of yours has replied to my letter?

That he'll court who he likes.

And that priests know absolutely nothing about these things.

That's true.

And whether that child really is his.

If it's not his child, then it's not mine either.

I'm going out with someone else.

Little Lies looks just like Fons when he was small.

She's a little darling. She'll be well cared for here.

-What do you think? -That we've been left holding the baby.

And she should come and get her.

Well, Wortel, you're doing well here.

Have you had another child?

Some have children, others buy land. And this is my grandchild.

And how is the land, the crop?

We need to renovate the castle and can do with the money.

But you do your best. I know.

That's where you're lucky, being able to work and not having to think.

Because thinking only leads to misery.

-Many… -I'm not miserable.

I've heard Alfons isn't doing too well.

Coco's uncle is captain in the cavalry.

He told me in confidence that Alfons has been locked up for three weeks.

He fought over a dancer or something.

Still, he'll be home soon, won't he?

He leaves the army next week.

Those three years have passed quickly. That's good.

You can't have too many hands on the land.

Let's drink to the health of the new couple.

Certainly. Good health.

-Wortel. -What?

Why is she here? She abandoned her own child.

-That's none of your business. -It is if you do something stupid.

Take a look at yourself.

Damn you!

Stop it, Wortel.

-Not on a Sunday. -It's not a Sunday.

It is tomorrow.

I'm taking my child to the 8 o'clock mass.

-He's suddenly become so Catholic. -I don't think it'll last long.

-Fons. -Yes?

Mummy.

It's almost dark and Fons isn't home yet.

He's not at the neighbours'.

And with that small child…

I suppose I'll have to fetch him from the café.

Have you seen Fons and his child?

Shall we tell him?

He's cleared off with his woman and child.

He's got what he needs with him. He'll get along OK.

Irma.

Amelie.

Amelie.

Lad, it doesn't matter how, but if it goes wrong, you're getting married.

To a blind woman, or I'll kill you.

I don't care if I get locked up for ten years.

You should've been locked up already. I know more about you than you think.

Who knew about this?

You and your bricklayer? Or you and your convent?

I'm fed up with your moaning. I'm leaving to marry my bricklayer.

I'm going into the convent. Next month I'm taking my vows.

So you're leaving us. What about the work?

I shall belong to Our Lord.

-I'm taking Frisine's bedspread. -Her bedspread's staying here, Irma.

I should've left long ago, like Fons.

Why are you making that statue, Pa?

I'm praying. With my hands.

I can't do it with words.

I'm not clever enough for that.

-Why do you want to pray? -To get rid of my suffering.

To know how to carry on.

Don't you love Irma, Fons and Anna anymore?

Yes.

But…

I can't bear it that they hurt your mother so much.

Do you still love me, Pa?

Very much.

But I can't get used to the fact that you…

have grown up so much.

He hasn't got any eyes yet, Pa.

Wortel, this will get you locked up for a year.

-Castle arselicker! -That won't help.

Go on. Do your work.

What about Fons?

-Still no news? -Frisine's gone back to her mother.

She couldn't stand it with Fons any longer. She took Lies with her.

Giddy-up. Giddy-up.

I asked Frisine to come and work at our place.

Something else. Franelle almost lost his eye chopping wood.

And Lorejas is going to end up married, after all.

-I can hear something outside. -Wortel.

-Who's there? -The constable.

Here, hide the hare.

-Hello. -Hello.

You've got to go and see the commissioner tomorrow in Geel.

He's not going to be locked up again?

Not if he hasn't done anything.

Or has something happened to Fons?

This is Jan Verhaegen.

-Take him over there. -What have I done?

A lad with the same surname as you has hung himself.

We need to know if it's your son.

Then we can register his death.

Come with me.

Fien. Fien. This will be the death of her.

Is this your son?

Our Fons had… has a mole here on his chest.

He hasn't got a mole.

-See! -So it's not your son?

-Our Fons has got a mole here. -So you don't know him.

Another one for the amphitheatre. Come on… that's it.

You're not used to seeing things like that. We see it every day.

You're very shaken.

-Will mass be said for that lad? -A pauper's mass.

What did you mean about that theatre?

For the medical students.

They cut up a body and study the pieces.

With special magnifying glasses. Sometimes they turn it into a skeleton.

So the lad won't be buried?

It wasn't our Fons, was it?

No.

No, it wasn't our Fons.

How could you see it wasn't our Fons?

Well…

That lad had a large mole on his chest.

-Fons didn't. -No, Fons doesn't.

No.

It was a wasted trip.

She died without me telling her.

-About Fons. -Everyone knows everything in heaven.

Do you think she's in heaven?

Fien won't be made a saint.

Saints don't look up with one eye and at their big toe with the other.

But Our Lord loves her. That's certain.

Then why didn't Her leave her with me?

And her children?

She could've gone to heaven in twenty years' time.

Amelie, you say what His eyes should be like.

Open or closed?

-How would you prefer Him? -With His eyes open, but…

What if he's cross-eyed then?

-All Jesuses I know have them closed. -Yes, but still…

I would have liked to have made a Jesus who looked at us.

That won't be easy.

-What do you think of Him? -Very nice.

But He looks like He's got stomach ache.

What would you know? You've never looked at Our Lord close up.

That's what you say. I've seen Our Lord from very close by.

And all His angels.

-D'you know what they say in the village? -They say so much.

You can't stop them talking.

That I'm courting you.

-Who says that? -Mie from the café.

And what did you say?

Me? I laughed.

Laughed. Is that all? You shouldn't laugh about that.

No.

Let her say it to me! She should poke her nose in her own affairs.

Frisine.

Take a look and see if it's alright now.

-I don't know about things like that. -I didn't say that.

Come on. Come here.

Stand in front of me with your eyes closed. I can't do it from memory.

Have you had a good look?

Can you do it now?

Yes, yes.

He's starting to look right.

-Have I come at the wrong time? -No, why? Come in.

Come in.

We were just looking at Our Lord's eyes. You have a look.

-What do you think? -You're a wonderful artist.

But there's something wrong with His eyes.

Yes, you may be right. Those eyes.

-I've got to do something about them. -I only came to say

that Tist has had a twin. They were on special offer!

-That's what I came to say. -Right.

I'm going upstairs.

You need to do something about my bedroom door.

There are cracks in it.

The wind has dropped. The silence before the storm, Wortel.

The last whims of winter.

Just like a foolish old man.

-What does he mean? -What about?

About a foolish old man.

Do up my blouse. We mustn't be late for mass.

What's the matter? You're shaking.

Get it now, the foolish old man?

Or do you think I don't know you've been peering through the door?

Do you know what I'm doing? Putting words in your mouth.

Get married, Wortel, get married. There's no better remedy.

And nothing so simple. And nothing or no one is stopping you.

You'll have plenty to get hold of.

I mean, you will have plenty to think about.

What about Fons? Frisine doesn't know he's dead.

I'll tell her.

And Fien?

Fien gives you her blessing, Wortel.

Don't worry. You'll be able to work much better.

And Fien up in heaven will like that.

Heaven.

Where is heaven?

All around us.

We're swimming in it, Wortel.

We're swimming in heaven.

It must be strange, having a young wife, Wortel.

Be careful she doesn't milk you dry. Especially one like her.

I sometimes wonder, why someone would love me.

-Take a look in the mirror. -I did.

And?

I sometimes can't believe it.

But when she catches me unawares and is all over me…

Yes, she's still very playful, isn't she?

At your age that should lift your spirits, a beautiful young girl.

It does, but all the rushing around, the restlessness.

If you look at them you can see they're all their mother's children.

-What do you mean? -They also look like you, Wortel.

Like two peas in a pod. Don't make yourself ill.

That's just it. She makes me ill. She…

She doesn't make you ill. You make yourself ill.

Frisine doesn't do anything wrong. She treats me like her own children.

I can't stand it when you say things like that.

And yet…

I'm eaten with jealousy. I don't even go out poaching at night any more.

Try sounding her out.

They say Siemkens' wife is having an affair with Knol.

-How do they know that? -Lorejas says he saw them at it.

He knows all about that, eh?

-At it? Where? -By the lake. One evening.

-One evening. You can't see anything -The moon was out.

That's stupid.

-What do you mean? -Meeting when the moon's out.

-Have you come about a christening? -No, not yet.

About Frisine…

You've struck lucky with your Frisine. She's a good woman.

Of course, she's a lot younger than you.

Yes, so?

Nothing. She's a serious girl. I won't hear a word against her.

-Are they saying bad things about her? -If they were to dare,

I'd take them to task during confession.

To be honest, you are lucky with women.

Well, what did you come for?

Well, I thought…

on the way, I'll go and ask you…

whether you'd come and look at my crucifix, it's finished.

I'll come tomorrow.

See, Wortel, you call and I come.

And it was worth it.

Did you ask the priest to come? You said he'd asked if he could come.

-I told you I'd been to see him. -You know you didn't put it like that.

Are you lying to me now?

-Who's coming to get some plums? -Me.

There's something not right. All those strange things.

-What is strange? -You are.

Everything is. I don't mean much to you.

You're always thinking about your dead wife.

I'm no more than a maid who does your work.

What you're saying isn't true.

Frisine, you're not second best.

Tell me what I can do to please you.

Go to Scherpenheuvel together.

Well, if I can have something…

Do you know what I need? A sewing machine.

A sewing machine? Where do I get that?

In Booischot. They're selling off a large farm.

The farmer's wife had a sewing machine. A good second-hand one.

-In Booischot. When? -Tomorrow.

You can't refuse Frisine that.

-We'll be back before it's dark. -Be careful.

Make sure you don't break it before you get it home.

You don't need to hurry.

She said, "You don't need to hurry." Why did she say that?

Did she say that? Maybe she's glad to be on her own for a while.

If Frisine really wants to, she doesn't need to wait for a dark night.

She's got plenty of chances.

-When? -Well,

when you take the cauliflowers to market at night in the summer.

You should pretend to leave and then go back.

How stupid of me. I should've done that long before now.

-And if there's nothing, there's nothing. -Franelle, you're a true friend.

I have to say, I'm scared…

that…

Where there's smoke, there's always fire, Wortel. Always.

Anyway, young women with shining eyes are not to be trusted.

We're not going past the lakes?

Why would we make a detour?

We're not going through the woods but past the lakes. Come on.

Surely you're not afraid. Come on.

Wortel, it was here they saw that white nun floating in the air.

Floating in the air! Are you mad, Franelle?

There's no such thing as a floating white nun. Push harder.

We should've passed the lake already.

This is a strange machine. Can't be trusted either.

I've heard a lot about it. About grinding wheels and teeth.

-They will… -Wortel!

Wortel!

Wortel, she's calling you. She's after you.

Bloody hell. No, don't swear. Not now.

Hell. Don't swear. Definitely not now.

Christ. We're going to die. Get out of here.

Coward. Can't be trusted either.

Frisine.

We've been looking for you all night. Frisine fell in the water.

She was in it for more than an hour. She called you.

It was dark. We couldn't find her.

It hurts so much.

The child will be dead.

You were gone so long.

Yes, I went wrong. I got lost.

-I'm dying. -No.

I loved you so much.

And all the children.

No.

No.

It's my fault.

It's my fault.

My fault.

Wortel, all good things come in threes.

Frisine has been dead for three years. You should get married again.

It's lasted long enough.

I've had two good wives. A third could be a disappointment.

-And I know who to. -You think that you know.

You think you know everything. I've said it often enough,

I could teach you a thing or two about women.

Angeliek De Moor.

-What do you think about that? -Nothing.

Your own house. You wouldn't have to work anymore.

Your best clothes on every day.

And my children that are still at home?

They'll stay with you.

Angeliek brought up the notary's children.

-That's why he gave her that house. -But she only knows me by sight.

She knows you very well. She's taken a liking to you.

Of course, it's not young love anymore.

It would be a marriage of friendship.

He's at it again.

-You're both almost sixty. -What? She is too?

The time for games is past.

-Why does she want me? -You want her.

Me?

Me?

I don't know her. Can you see me carrying her over the threshold?

You don't need to carry anything over this threshold. You wouldn't live here.

You'd go and live with her, and all your children.

What about my barn? My animals? My field?

Your field. Leave it. For Mon and Franelle's daughter.

Anyway, Angeliek has a big garden to keep you busy.

-I'd dig it in a day. -Take a week. Or two weeks.

A happy life.

Have a lie-in, plant flowers, read the newspaper.

In short, be a gentleman.

Do I have to go and waste away next to such a pitiful woman? Leave my home?

She's coming to get some milk. Talk to her… about the weather.

-And give her a flower. -A flower?

Even Fien and Frisine never got those.

How did you manage that?

It all came from our heart, Father.

Can't you see anything, Amelie?

Poor child. It must be awful.

It's as if I can see. I know everything here.

What it smells like, how it sounds.

I can here from the echo whether someone has joined us or left.

It's good here.

I'll pray for you, Amelie.

Is your father home?

I want to ask you something.

Could you come and dig my garden?

I suppose so.

-Can you come tomorrow? -Tomorrow I have to…

Maybe I can postpone it.

-Yes, I'll come. -Good. See you tomorrow.

-Did you give her a flower, Pa? -A flower?

I completely forgot.

It's a big house for someone on their own.

It's lonely on your own.

I've often had the chance of marrying.

But it never worked out.

And you start to regret it.

I always wanted to have children.

I've got lots.

It's not always a bed of roses.

I know. You've met with a lot of adversity.

The priest told me. I believe he's your best friend.

He told me everything.

I love you very much too, Jan.

As much as you love me.

Did the priest tell you a lot about me?

A bit.

-I said… -That you wanted to marry me.

He told me a lot of nice things about you.

And so I set my sights on you.

I will love the children very much, Jan.

That's very nice of you.

You can… You can tell the priest

that my answer to your question is yes.

That I want to marry you.

You look magnificent, Mr. Wortel.

Am I disturbing you?

Is that you, Wortel? I hardly recognised you.

I always say, clothes maketh the man.

Well. Congratulations. I can hardly believe my eyes.

-I believe you. What's up with your eye? -I've been chopping wood again.

Pa.

Why isn't Angeliek coming to live with us?

Why not, Pa?

-Amelie likes living here. -I'll get lost in Angeliek's house.

Like someone who's blind.

We'll have to get used to it, child.

There's a lot to be said in favour. Everything can stay as it is here.

Your son Mon and my daughter Elza will make something of it.

And you can come and visit your son.

I'll come and help you move, the day after tomorrow.

Not you, Mr. Cockerel. You can crow.

Three times or as many times as you want.

But I'm not Peter.

I won't renounce my field.

-Pa, what's the matter? -What's the matter, girl?

I'm not marrying Angeliek. Not for all the money in the world.

She can keep her kind heart. She can leave me alone.

I can't do it. I can't do it.

Look at all this.

Smell all this.

-I'd give up everything for this. -But Pa!

But Pa, what will people say? And the priest?

I couldn't care less. As long as you are happy.

The priest can marry Angeliek himself.

Get him out of his bed and tell him I'm not getting married.

-Pa! -Quickly. Go on.

He must. He must, Amelie.

He must.

Poor Angeliek.

The things that man does to me, his very own priest.

It's a scandal. A scandal.

That lovey party. And that lovely family.

And that lovely food and that lovely wine.

No, that doesn't matter. That will improve with age. Am…

He only has to say yes, Amelie.

Pa?

Pa?

Wortel, come out here. Or don't you dare?

Pa?

Wortel.

Wortel, where are you?

Pa?

Pa?

Wortel.

Wortel, stop. It's me, your priest.

Your friend.

Wortel.

How can he?

I love you too much.

I'm so happy here.

Thank you, Lord. For everything.

Subtitle translation by: Christine Le Piez