All language subtitles for Death.And.Nightingales.S01E01.720p.HDTV.x264-KETTLE

Poisons.

Belladonna,
a preservative against scarlatina.

Aconite...

Arsenic...

Ergot...

Oil of bitter almonds.

Drink.

Beth, please...

I, I promise I'll conduct myself

as honourably as any man
in Ulster from now on...

- Drink.
- I'll make amends.

It's too late.

I'll never lay a hand on you again,
Beth, I swear.

Jesus, mercy...

...forgive,
forgive a wretched sinner...

Sir?

Sir?

Oh, you poor beast, poor beast...

You'll be all right.

A dowry, love. Yes, a dowry.

What's a dowry?

It's what a girl gets
when she marries.

I got a longhorn bull calf...

...and Corvey Island.

Salmon swim up past there, up from
the sea, and there's wild goats and

a herd's bothy and a hidden garden,

and when the sun is shining on
the lough, it's like

gold or silver

or diamonds, or velvet at night.

Someday it'll all be yours.

The heartbreak of this place.

Love it and hate it
like no place else on earth.

Tomorrow, I leave it for ever.

When there were no fields here,
before the Greenes and the Brownes,

and the Winters and the Somers,
the rat-poor robbers with nothing

names came here to rob us
of what was ours.

Maguire was a proud name.

And it still is.

Oh, there's pride there, to be sure,

and sweet bugger-all to prop it up.

Why must you go on and on
at me like a bloody fish woman?

Who are you to look down on
a fish woman?

I look down on no-one.

Oh, no, but some spunky boyo looked
down on you once, that's for sure.

- Or did he come from behind?
- Stop! Stop! For God's sake! I...

I have begged your forgiveness over
and over again for that one mistake.

"Mistake"! "Mistake"!
That's a nice word for it!

To walk up the aisle with me to wed,

knowing you carried
another man's child!

When you knew the love
I had for you...

I should have listened to my father.

"Marry one of your own faith.

"Not some treacherous slut of Rome!"

Have mercy on me, Billy, for the
sake of the child if nothing else.

That child is not my daughter!

She's not kin to me and she will
not inherit, do you hear me?

She will not inherit.
I'll disinherit her.

Do you hear? I'll disinherit her.

Neither she nor her kind will ever
cut my trees, milk my cows,

pluck my apples, quarry my stone,
or plough my acres ever!

"My, my, my, my, my"!

You stole it from us

and you know you stole it.

I'm not stopping you!

On you go, woman, back to
Tirkennedy, back to your own people!

A midnight scholar.

What were you hunting for
in the Queen's English?

Disinter...

What does it say? Read it out.

"To dig up things,
especially from a grave.

"To unearth."

To unearth things
that are best left buried.

Undisturbed. It's a good word.

What word were you really
looking for? And don't lie to me.

I hate lies.

Disinherit.

Sweetheart...

Yes, sir?

Did you find it?

Yes, sir.

And you believe I'd disinherit you?

I don't know.

Bring the lamp.

And that is what put the shine
on this place 100 years ago.

French gold.

Phoo!

15,000 beaver pelts

stolen by my father's grandaddy
from the French...

...who stole it from
the poor oul' Cree Indians.

15,000 pelts sold
for five boxes of gold...

...one for each of the crew,
but two for Captain Winters.

Now, you mind your step...

...you bide your time...

...and you play your part...

...this could all be yours.

This AND what I've added.

Miss Beth?

- Miss Beth?
- Coming.

Did you sleep all night
in your clothes, miss?

Oh, no, no,
I'll explain when I come down.

Today's the day, miss.

What?

Oh, Mercy, you shouldn't have.

Mercy, it's too much.

Many happy returns of the day, miss.

Yeah...? Yes?

I've your hot water, sir.

Hold on, Mercy. Hold on.

- Is Miss Beth up?
- She's in her room, sir.

You know what day it is?

I've give her something already.

You're a good girl, Mercy.

I'll be down directly.

Holy Jesus, it's wee Jimmy.

Well, this is an honour.

Your Catholic
Bishop of Clogher is here.

Beth! Bishop Donnelly's here.

Welcome back to Clonoula, my lord.

When I was curate here,
you called me Seamus, or Jimmy.

- I'd prefer that.
- What brings you here, Jimmy?

Elizabeth.

You remembered?

'Course.

You'll stay for a bite of breakfast?

If it's not too much trouble.

Mercy?

Lay another place.

- The best ware.
- Yes, sir.

It's Mercy Boyle, isn't it?

Yes, my lord.

You have a lovely name.

Mercy.

- Will you bless my brother, my lord?
- Of course.

- Where is he?
- He's in the kitchen.

- I'll get him.
- No, no, I'll go to him.

♪ Rule Romania,
Romania rules the Taigs

♪ Poor Rosie's childer

♪ Ever, ever shall be slaves. ♪

From this window,
12 months ago, I first saw him.

Who could he be?

What is he doing here?

A merchant from Dublin or Belfast?

A new French or Italian mason
at the quarry?

- Yes?
- Is the boss about?

He's away till Thursday.

I'm Liam Ward of Brackagh.

Tom Ward's nephew?

That's me.

You have a problem, Liam?

Aye, an old fool of a cow in a bog
hole and no man body for miles about

to help pull her out.

They're all at hay.

- Do you not have a horse?
- I do, but I've...

...I've loaned her to a neighbour.

We've a big pony here,
you're welcome to him.

Do you have someone to lead him?

I'm free.

I can lead him for you.

I'll do what I can
to get her back feet up.

Don't give him his head...
he could break her neck.

I know what to do.

Come on.

She's very chilled.

I think she's dead, Liam.

Liam, she's dead.

When did you see her last?

Yesterday.

She could have been in there
all night.

Likely she was.

- She was agey.
- It's a loss, nonetheless.

I'm beholden to you, miss.

I answered to Liz at school,
to Beth or Betty hereabouts.

Would it be forward to ask you
back to the house, Beth,

or backward not to?

A cup of tea would be welcome.

Would a mug do?

Just as welcome.

Silk?

This was your uncle's house?

Yes.

Where are your parents?

My mother's in Monaghan asylum.

I'm sorry.

She doesn't know anyone
this brave while.

And your father?

When I was 12, he walked out
one night... for good or bad.

He never came back.

Growing up, I used to think that
this townland, Brackagh,

this cottage by the shore,
were a kind of faery land...

I still do.

Try living here.

You know I'm Catholic too?

Yes, I do.

The long-tailed lads
look to be more fun

than the boy with the showy heart.

Do I understand
what I'm risking tonight?

Am I in my right mind
or just foolish?

Do I love Liam Ward?

I'm besotted, a moth to the candle,
a rabbit in a hawk-shadow.

But do I love?

Do I hate Billy Winters enough
to take such a risk?

Do I hate him at all?

- You're halfway to heaven.
- The dog days of summer.

Dear God in heaven. It's uncanny.

Heart-breaking.

You're the living replica
of your poor mother.

What are you now, Elizabeth? 22?

- 23.
- Of course.

And how do you propose
to celebrate the day?

Making butter,
bringing food to the men in the bog.

- And there's a pig to be killed.
- Who does that for you?

- Blinky Blessing.
- Ah...

It'll not all be workaday.

I have a surprise or two
up my sleeve.

What's this?

It's a gift from Mercy.

May I?

It's empty.

- Don't you have a young man?
- No, Father.

Oh, I've tried...

...brought them here by the cartload.
Overbred, underbred,

young bucks, not so young.
She'll have nothing to do with them.

She'll find the right man
in her own good time.

I'm not looking.

Tell me, Billy...

Do you know a not-so-young man
called Maurice Fairbrother?

He called on me yesterday.

Said he was from the Revenue
Department, Dublin Castle.

He had authority
to look into our accounts.

We gave him a trunk full of papers,
all to do with the new cathedral.

He scarcely looked at them.

But he did ask about you
in a way I thought curious.

Me?

I don't know what he is, Billy,
but he's no taxman

and he intends to call on you.

Well, what could he want with me?

Information.

That's their job.

He'll be in the wrong shop, so.

He also asked about
two of your tenants.

Liam Ward and Frank Blessing.

You employ them, Billy.

They buy filler and stone
from the quarry.

It's the council that pays them,
and then, of course, they pay me.

- It's your quarry.
- True.

- You could refuse them.
- I COULD...

...yes.
- And you should.

Blessing is a wretched creature.

And Ward is worse.

He's evil, or near it.

Wha...

He's full of himself, sure,
but evil...

...that's a big word.

You'll have to tell me why.

I'm not at liberty to disclose.

Well, then, I don't see
I can do as you ask.

You do a lot of work for us
here in Fermanagh, Billy.

And all that marble work
up in Monaghan Cathedral.

Is this a class of blackmail, Jimmy?

I married you and Catherine.

I christened Elizabeth.
We've been friends down the years.

It's a request.

I have to say why.

At my request. He'll understand.

How beautiful.

Thank you, Winnie.

I have something for you, Elizabeth.

Thank you, Father.

This is for you.

Tonight?

I don't care much
for Percy French, sir.

You don't like Percy French?

No, sir.

What don't you like about him?

The silliness, I think.

- Silliness?
- Yes, sir.

The whole world
is singing his songs.

Is the whole world silly?

I don't care about what he does.

What do you care about?

John Keats.

What does he sing about?

Death, mostly...

...and nightingales.

Well, maybe he'll come and warble
for us sometime in the Town Hall?

You know he's dead and gone, sir.

Where no birds sing.

If you can quote him, why pretend?

Because I know
and I like Percy French.

And it's your birthday.

It's an outing.

No matter.

I'll find someone for your ticket.

Well, Miss Beth is a wonder,
and sure the cow is alive and well.

Well, I wouldn't tangle with
Miss Beth if she had that yoke in

her pocket. She could do you harm,
or could puncture a body badly.

What about Mercy here?

Could you be punctured, Mercy?

Ach. Like a pack of silly wee boys,
the whole lot of ye.

Thank you, Mercy.

You're missing a rare chance.

Are you sure you won't
change your mind?

I'd rather not go, sir.

It seems a poor way to spend
your birthday.

I'm content, sir, truly.

With this house and these fields,
maybe, but not with me.

So...

Say what it is that has you moody.

Now?

Yes,
let's hear it and be done with it.

I think you know, sir.

I've never harmed you, Beth.

I would rather die than harm you.

You know that.

Do you really want to hear?

Yes.

The last time you came in
and sat on my bed,

kissed me,

not fatherly,

said then something
I'd rather not repeat.

That's when I got angry and went
and slept in Mercy's bed...

Oh, God.

What stuff...

What stuff to launch a sunny day.

You wanted to hear, sir.

I remember nothing of that.

Who was Bishop Donnelly
talking about?

- When?
- To you, earlier.

He called someone evil.

You heard?

It was our tenant, Liam Ward.

In what way evil?

He refused to say.
Confessional stuff, I suppose.

I doubt if Ward confesses.
I've never seen him at Mass.

Well, maybe his ladies confess, if
you could call his consorts ladies.

Would that make him evil, sir?

His exact words were "near evil".

I suppose most humans are,
more or less...

...this way or that.

There's foolishness
and then there's evil.

We'll talk again.

I'll make amends, Beth.

Really, I will.

Are you there, Miss?

I am, Mercy. Yes.

Would you like me to scrub out
the kitchen

or start straight in to churn?

The churning, Mercy.
I'll be down in five minutes.

What are you doing lurking?

What do you want?

You're hungry? Well, then,
go down to the house, so,

and they'll give you food.

And then move on.
No malingering in the yard.

Money for lodgings?

Dumb you might be, McGonnell, but
you're an artful class of a beggar.

Come butter, come butter,
butter come,

every lump as big as my bum.

Come.

Oh, God. Thanks, Miss.

That's Liam Ward's dray.

He is the most breathtaking creature
I've ever laid eyes on.

Still, they're a bad lot, mostly.

Who are?

Men.

In what sense, Mercy?

Well, the ones you'd meet at
a crossroads dance or a ceilidh,

they've no notion how to talk to
a girl, less manners nor a dog.

They've no...

No gentleness?

It's up agin a wall they want you,
or down in a ditch and no talk.

And your friend, Constable Shanley,
is he like that?

Ach! He's afeared of his shadow,
that fella. Gossipy oul' woman.

"Information" is all he's after,

and I've told him things
I shouldn't have.

You did? Like what?

Like what, Mercy?

Hey, Mercy. Don't go. Don't go.

Stay, stay a few minutes.

Stop. Go.

Go.

What did you tell Shanley?

I don't know. Stupid things. Like...

...telling him about Biddy O'Gorman,
how she was big like a haystack

one day and thin as a rake
the next and nothing to show for it.

And some say that it was born dead
and others that it was made to die.

And, then, the day after
I told Seamus Shanley,

the constabulary came
and searched O'Gorman's.

They found nothing
but he must have told.

God help her.

Oh, divil mend the men.

Willie Dawson, Liam Ward
and God knows who else.

She was a giddy thing, Biddy.

Man giddy.

Right.

Ward and Blessing.

An unholy brace of hoeboys.

The dynamite.
How many men have you watching?

The three lads you can see.
Three more you can't.

Waste of time.

You think?

You can watch and watch
and still be codded.

Ward!

The law's up high today.

What are you doing here,
Inspector Quinn?

Cadging a cheap tombstone from
Mr Winters?

I, er... I had a visit this morning,
Liam, from your bishop.

Your friend, Jimmy Donnelly?

Client, Liam, client.

I have no friends,
no enemies, just clients.

What's he saying?

He's saying he'll cancel all orders
from this quarry

if I hire you to deliver
for the church avenue.

That's what he's saying.

Jesus.

What have you done, Liam,
to make him say that?

I haven't a notion.

Well, then, that's it.

You can't supply for
the avenue at Tully.

Give him a chit for that new
stretch out at Dernagola.

Country roads go on forever.
You'll not be stuck for work.

If it was my quarry, I'd race him.

"Dearest Beth,
I am missing you dearly.

"Your Great Aunt Maggie is being
laid to rest tomorrow.

"You ask me what it's like to die.

"It can't be all that bad.

"No worse, say, than being born.

"Living your life - that's hard.

"All I ask of you, my love,

"is that, when I go, you make sure
my own name is on the stone.

"Catherine Winters, nee Maguire."

Do you have family buried here?

No.

But I know you come here every week
and that Billy's away.

And where were you all this while?

It's a long story.

Maybe we could meet later?

How? Where?

Brackagh.

My cottage.

I couldn't travel that lane
in the dark.

...you've seldom been far
from my mind and heart.

There must be somewhere...

- I thought you weren't coming.
- I said I would.

Am I in your way?

Keep still.

I'm sorry, Liam,
did I frighten you?

These things cowp easily.

That'd be a silly start to the day.

Or a bad end.

I don't swim.

I do.

I'd save you.

Dear God, it's quiet.

I'll fetch water.

You make a fire.

To think this is
all Billy Winters'.

It's not.

My mother left Corvey Island to me.

Paradise must have been
something like this.

Well, Billy Winters
could double as a god...

...of sorts.

Why don't you like him?

Why don't you? You're kin.

You must know I'm not.

That's talk, surely?

You're certain sure?

Since I was 12.

You're better off without his blood.

He's a breed of landlord.

They're all one, that class -
criminal.

Tell me Billy's crimes,
the ones I don't know about.

They say he works for the Castle.

A spy? An informer?

I've never heard such silliness.

Why is that?

Spying on neighbours for money?

He might do it for nothing.

For Ulster, for the Crown, for
the Union, to keep the grip on us.

All gentry are ready-made spies.
Everyone knows that.

You're not joking, are you?

He's been seen twice
up at the Castle this past while,

Billy Winters,
his twin or his double.

Billy goes to Dublin Castle
for import licences.

It's quarry business.

Informing's not one of his crimes.

He has others?

I think sometimes he hates me.

Oftentimes, I hate him so much,
I wish him dead.

Black thoughts.

Don't you have them
about some things?

Anyway, when I'm not hating him,
I sometimes think

I maybe love him, in a way.

"Oftentimes", you said.

When I heard him hit my mother.

Then I feared and loathed him
and wished him dead.

For hitting her?

And for what I didn't understand
at first.

When he'd kiss me not fatherly.

Jesus.

He made my mother suffer.

He should answer for that.

I don't like settle beds.

Like being in a coffin.

You've done this before, Liam.

Question?

A statement.

It doesn't matter.

Am I hurting you?

Yes.

No.

Go on.

Do you ever wonder about
your true father?

My untrue father.

Every other day and often in dreams.

In one dream, he was a young boy
washed out to sea and drowned

and, oh, the grief of it...

And, yet, I feel
he must have been heartless,

a betrayer or a liar,
or already married, perhaps.

Weak, unkind.

But my mother was very foolish
and dishonest to marry

carrying another's child.

Blame on both sides.

And has he quit?

What?

Billy? Interfering?

It's only when he has drink taken.

One night, when I was 12,
he got very drunk,

opened the big safe in the gun room
and showed me his gold.

He told me, "Mind your step,
bide your time,

"play your part
and all this could be yours."

What part, I wonder.

Dairymaid? Housekeeper?

Wife?

Gold?

Yes.

How much gold?

A steel drawer full.

The bottom of the safe.

How long has it been there?

Before Napoleon's time.

100 years.

What kind is he to hoard like that?

Humankind.

Killing's a small thing.

Getting away with it...

...that's not easy.

What are you saying, Liam?

Why not take what we need...

...what he doesn't need?

The ill-gotten gold.

I couldn't kill anyone.
Nor would I want you to.

There are bromides.

Opiates that will pacify
a nervous horse.

Put a man to sleep for two days.

A share in his nightcap and we'd be
across the sea before he'd waken.

And I'd just walk out of the house
where I was born,

where my mother died,
away from Billy Winters forever?

You said you'd be glad to.

In one way. Another way,
it'd be kind of a death.

Well,
if what the clergy say is true,

that can be a beginning of sorts.

You've an answer for everything,
Liam.

Almost.

How often does he go
to the safe?

Not often.

All we need is two days
and we're away with it.

All we have to do is fix the day.

You're serious.

Are you not?

He's no-one's fool.

He's foolish enough,
it seems, when he's drunk.

When will he next have drink taken?

After my mother died,
he drank night and day.

Now it's just when there's an
outing, a fair day, any celebration.

When's the next?

July 10th, my birthday.

Then it's decided.

July 10th.

One thing is certain sure...