Original subtitles

Father!

Certain chronicles are like trees.

You must trace the root.

to follow the sickly twistings of the branch,

the rush of blood in the leaves,

the poison in the sap.

Francois de Cortemare was only ten

when his father left for war.

Take me to war with you.

Guard this for me.

Return to the castle.

First defend your mother.

She is so comely and men so brutal.

Mother!

Mother!

Dispose of the body, Madam.

My father is not avenged for you never betrayed him.

This is how I imagine my father.

Atop the highest tower.

For 20 leagues

one heard only of this mad, noble boy.

That's how I see him

that winter, frail yet unyielding against the wind,

Tears heavy in his chest,

watching by day, 3 months long,

sleeping exhausted beneath an icy sky.

Neither wind nor rain

nor his mother's laments

nor the Abbot's behests could bend his will.

That's how I imagine my father.

So small, so wounded,

so terribly alone.

Francois de Cortemare!

Francois de Cortemare!

Come down, I pray you!

Come down!

The Lord of Cortemare is dead!

Come down! Your father is dead!

My Lord God, I hate you!

And he stayed up there 3 months long,

his gaze fixed on the horizon.

He was no bigger than you, Jehan.

Now I too await my father...

not as fervently...

...some days I am forgetful.

let go home, Jehan.

Maitre Blanche and Bertrand Lemartin are greedier than the English!

You dress as for a lover.

Jehan!

Your magpie sings little of late.

She must sense your father's return.

A crone like you would have let the whole castle go!

Hurry!

Our road is long.

That chest's not empty.

What misfortune!

Take care with the tapestry!

Not that!

Leave them that, Maitre Blanche.

What's your name?

Marguerite!

I've killed six lice.

How nice!

Maitre Blanche!

I gave no word about the tapestry!

But Madam, we have agreed on it!

I said I world give it thought.

I hadn't agreed.

Nor had I looked twice at your fields.

Most lie fallow,

abandoned by your serfs,

and you've let them run to seed.

The land you sell is untillable.

Has your father been gone long?

Nearly 4 years.

And if I refuse?

Then do not except the agreed sum.

Don't give in!

He'll always ask for more!

Very well.

But in exchange,

I shall examine your gold.

How's that?

You doubt our fields, I doubt your money.

Get down, Jehan.

Get down!

Pile them 20 coins high!

Or higher if you can!

I'll be back to count them!

A drink! I've great thirst!

There's no meat on them.

Our land didn't suffice?

Nor your pretty face?

It's unwise to strip the walls.

Stone shivers and seeks revenge.

Witch!

Like father, like daughter!

Grant that my brother Arnaud...

comes home to me.

It's a tiny castle!

It's a tiny castle!

Sir Lemartin's handiwork.

Money is ephemeral,

unlike noble blood.

Butterflies too are ephemeral...

That's no reason to crush their wings.

The light wanes.

Will you now sign the deed of sale?

Light the torches,

the room is too dark.

But they are lit, Madam.

Not all...

Shall I read it aloud?

No.

It's not necessary.

Stand by the window, Maitre Blanche.

Let me guide you.

I too could not write.

Will the English honor their word?

They always free their prisoners.

Your father and brother will return.

Be sure of it.

For thee, my love, one day...

I'll build a castle of gold...

And I will love you always...

Always.

Let me cut it!

you're no longer a man!

Milord Saint Augustine was fond of peacock.

Really?

Damned bells!

Look!

A jackdaw!

Thomas made the glue too thick.

He's pretty!

At your age, my brother Arnaud

climbed trees like a squirrel.

He taught me everything I know.

The kingdom never bore a handsomer child.

My father too was handsome,

and the most valiant of them all.

Grandmother hates him for his red hair.

Look!

He's company for my magpie.

Meanwhile, we had a visit,

but since you were playing in the woods like a boy,

and not here sewing as befits a lady,

I know not if you should hear the news.

A visit? News?

I beg you, Grandmother, speak!

Do you deserve it?

Your father and Arnaud are coming home.

My father, Arnaud, coming home?

When? Tonight?

A night of the full moon.

That's your cursed father's message.

A night of the full moon!

Catch it!

At the full moon! He's mad!

Catch it!

It's a woodpecker.

Wench or boy?

Have pity, Milord.

Wench or boy?

A wench, Milord.

Luck's with you. Get up.

Come here.

- Father! - What?

Come here.

Hurry!

Mount my son's horse.

Obey and no harm will befall you.

Richard!

There are no men of honor but they'll not harm my property.

Don't we bury it?

A wench has no soul.

Let's go!

Nothing is too soft for you, dear Arnaud.

Come home tonight, Father.

My young heart tires of waiting.

I hope it's for tonight.

Do we get to eat anyway? No?

You'll find out!

Marguerite, the piss!

Are they bringing the calves?

Yes.

If it's not this month, he'll be served hedgehog.

My pleasure! Raw, with all the quills!

May he choke on it!

Can't you hate in silence?

Supper will be late.

They'll soon ring Vespers.

They swiped your willy while you slept.

Who?

The Abbot.

Where'd he put it?

Ate it, because supper's late.

But it's still there!

Mistress! Follow me, hurry!

Hurry!

It's him.

T'aint seen Milord?

I've waited seven moons.

Hear it?

They're here! Get to the kitchen!

Pauline, the basket!

How many are they?

We'll soon know.

I saw them! I saw them!

Have you seen your face?

Thank you!

He'd even sleep through the Apocalypse.

I wasn't sleeping. I wasn't.

Fry the larded milk! The saffron! The trenchers!

Father...

Father...

Rise, Abbot.

Are you dying?

No, Sire...

You rejoiced too quickly.

Arnaud!

My brother!

How handsome you've gotten!

Sire!

I know you, Abbot.

I've watched the vultures hovering, the nights of our defeats.

Mathieu!

Give her food and lodging.

"I'll return a night of the full moon."

I kept my word.

A Lord oughtn't to mock his folk so.

They've waited 7 months!

I return from war, Madam, and captivity.

Spare me your presence.

I hunger for meat and pleasures,

and the mere sight of you smites any remaining joy.

My legs fail as if pierced by arrows.

Help me...

Already I want to flee.

As plagued as a wandering Jew.

Spit that out, thief!

Watch your arse when I have one this big!

What became of the tapestry?

I sold it.

To whom?

Bertrand Lemartin.

You shouldn't have.

I had no choice.

Sire, tell us of your exploits.

Our life here has been so dull.

Ask my spoilers. They weren't there.

They'll spin a better tale.

But sire...

What would Christianity be

without the Apostle's imagination?

If it displeases you, Father,

then let your son recount

rather than these strangers.

As you wish.

I'll recount our "exploits".

A stupendous blunder.

Stupendous chaos amongst the knights

massacred by the ambushing vermin and their arrows.

Gold-hungry, we thought only of ransom,

attacking out of greed and vanity.

We trampled our own footmen!

Only to fall into trenches

and impale our horses.

It was defeat by hamstringing.

I didn't wound a single Englishman,

but only my own men!

Your brother never attacked.

Petrified, alone on his horse,

in the battlefield, flies all over him.

Flies!

Because your brother is a coward,

and in battle his bowels leak out

beneath him a pool of stinking excrement.

The English lay waiting.

A lad covered in shit, be he noble,

was insufficient game.

I turned back to save your brother

changed into a pillar of shit.

Then the English sprang forward

thirty-strong.

The two of us were more savory prey.

So eat, Mother.

There were no exploits!

The king himself fled.

The basin!

When your father has done,

You're done.

Your rump is on fire.

It's a sign of illness and death.

Father.

Are you so unhappy, Father?

I never believed...

You were so wicked as they said.

And now?

I waited for you every full moon,

perched all night atop the trees.

I knew such a waiting.

I know.

But your father died.

Mine has returned.

I loved you too much...

absent to hate you in one night.

Nothing to await now...nothing.

Once the enemy's blood was the same color as ours.

their iron gaze alike.

We'd always charged like crazed horses...

Now they set their dogs on us!

...Like crazed horses...

My father never taught me such warfare

against murdering peasants!

Think of God...

who chose to spare your life.

God?

I hear only his mocking laughter.

Is it not His silence?

Has He spoken to you?

I have a lifetime to wait.

You should have been the son.

Who are these men?

Spoilers, I said.

In chess, you're allowed to beat me.

Take back your bishop,

play as you intended.

Checkmate.

Dawn is coming.

Go on. You're free.

Richard!

What is it?

Nothing.

Arnaud.

My mother corrupted our blood,

the devil drinks it up,

and my son howls in fear in the night.

Too young for war.

I knew it, my love.

I knew it.

Your handsome face...

Go. It's nearly daybreak.

Lord God, everlasting Father,

who hath led me to this day by the holy virtue,

keep me from harm's way

and from the slope of mortal sin

and guide my thought to thy saintly justice.

Thy will be done. Amen.

The night's tarrying does not excuse Mass.

The bells haven't rung!

Out with this flea-ridden brat!

The Welsh haven't human form?

Father calls the English whores.

Teach me to shoot?

Mistress, Milord your father bids you to his chamber.

Well, how should I say it?

Arnaud,

help me dress.

Pauline will be hours with Grandmother.

You bid me come, father?

Come here.

I've been on the land you sold.

Wash me.

Enough.

Rub.

Why not have ransomed our coat of arms and weapons?!

You acted in haste.

Half would have sufficed.

Half, if your father's return only mattered to you.

But Arnaud...

He's worth no more than a girl!

Wash my feet!

What did the wheat bring?

6 or 4 deniers.

You might have freed the serfs.

They refused.

They couldn't buy their freedom.

Dry me.

Francois' men were not in church.

So what?

I've been amidst women so long!

Jerusalem is none as hot as here.

Now he must have the mill repaired.

War is not all.

He is Lord of our land first.

He knows he is no longer even that.

Now he can only howl at death.

Don't make the glue too thick.

Coming, Arnaud?

Not running in the woods again!

Coming?

Have you seen the blacksmith?

He left for lack of work.

Francois!

What joy to see a man!

Did the king really flee?

Teach me!

You've learned their language, too?

What does it mean?

Wait.

Jehan!

It means "Pretty maiden, you are my sister."

Daily she deposits flowers

like seed to make the walls sprout.

Will she be a saint?

All recluses are,

else they go mad.

You killed with the bow, Master?

See that, Father!

If Arnaud were English, he'd win the battle!

If the English were like Arnaud,

there'd be no battle.

Feed it to the pigs.

Help me to love him.

Is it edible?

All that has no soul is edible.

For what we are about to receive...

The Lord make us...

The Lord makes us...

The Lord make us truly grateful.

You are so richly clad in this bare castle.

How much land is her necklace worth?

A day's walk on foot.

Daybreak to sunset.

Some larded milk.

What dazzled me in the rooms

of the favorites were neither linens nor perfumes

but the sweets, little Beatrice.

Mixtures of starch, honey, of...

Dates?

Dates...

and almond musk and rosewater

and pistachios, too.

Not like sugar-coated almonds or nougat.

And then there were magical animals.

singing lions...

We've heard this a hundred times.

I never tire of it.

She never tire of it.

You'll hurt your eyes in the dark.

He's so roundabout in expressing himself.

Open the shutters.

I'll do it.

No.

Where have they gone?

Why do you tremble so, Jehan?

Idiots are like bears,

they sense things...

Which things?

Nothing good, in any case.

Grandmother.

Did you hear?

Mathieu!

Take all but the iron.

She's a gift. I keep Nicolette.

It's skinny, but a rump's a rump.

Here's an enemy to equal your weakness.

Bravery and knighthood are done with.

Ram her, my son.

One day the French land, gorged on our blood,

will spew it forth.

Ram her.

Ram her.

We'll have only our females to offer it to.

And they'll suck it up greedily.

Tell my daughter

who of two females sins more.

The one who submits to man's force

or the one who takes pleasure in watching?

I didn't think you could bow your head before evil.

Maire.

Wake up, Mother.

I forbid you!

It stinks not of corpse but of old woman.

Choose a garment that suits these damsels.

They don't belong to them.

Come, girl...

Even Jesus gave his shirt to a freezing man.

Jesus, yes.

Choose.

Poor fool.

Nicolette!

To pardon us

for not honoring you tonight.

Take it.

Don't play dead! He's gone!

It's a boy you have?

It is, Mistress.

Are they thirstier than wenches?

Till they stand up on two legs,

they're all the same.

And afterwards?

Afterwards...

A boy's force seems to come from within.

You don't give more to boys?

Mistress, it's God gives them strength.

I'll be on my way.

If no women could suckle them,

would they perish?

No, Mistress...

There are still cows and goats and she-wolves.

Tree...

Beautiful trees!

Your father was a saintly man.

God calls them to him

oftentimes sooner than sinners.

I'd like...

his tomb transferred outdoors,

on my land.

But he rests here, in peace.

When I die, I don't want to be shut inside.

On the ship from England,

they threw bodies overboard.

The sea is beautiful.

Great white birds plunge in for food,

then fly away

with the souls of the dead in their wings.

Your dwelling is too narrow.

It's stifling!

At St. Auban, the Lord of Chanac is being tried in justice.

He risks excommunication...

For blasphemy.

When I'm dead,

I want to be thrown into the sea!

I beseech thee...

when mine eyes shall be obscured by death...

and no longer see the century's light...

Have no fear.

Give me your blessing.

I have no right.

Give me your blessing!

Werewolf.

My love.

My love.

God and my love do not exist.

Father!

You've made the sign of the cross backwards.

Kneel before her.

Finish your evening prayer.

Ask pardon for the sin you will commit.

Mother!

Ask Her pardon.

Pardon?

God and my love do not exist.

Now you too are a whore.

No one can come in!

Go away, Jehan.

Mistress wants no one today.

Not even you.

Open up!

Open up!

Never!

I hate you! I curse you!

Open up!

What causes a harvest's ruin?

Hail, storm, wind?

What causes the wrath of God?

Impure love.

Absence of love.

Look!

Look closely!

The sun splashed across the plain,

the sky's crystal purity.

No cloud, no breeze in the leaves.

You rebel in vain, child.

God himself blesses our love.

Fast here 3 days and 3 nights

in penance for cursing me.

I did it a whole winter

much younger than you.

Before Beatrice and Arnaud

I had two other wenches.

Lemartin's caravan returns from Venice

in 3 days, via Thermes,

with its biggest load.

Go alone. I've no taste for fighting.

The booty is great.

And a chance for vengeance.

Why bury them here?

So the bees torment them endlessly?

I remember, before joining my camp,

I had only a few crowns left.

which I divided...

half for food, half for a woman.

When I had eaten and drunk,

I entered a shop and took my pleasure.

I felt like a man again.

But wait...

I got off the trollop...

opened the door

to see what I had bought.

And gazed on a toothless hag

with skin crawling with vermin.

I was beginning to believe in love,

but your tale is loathsome.

We brought you food.

It's good. It's jam porridge.

It's poisoned.

Father sent you.

Softly, child. Your father's gone.

And I never wished your death,

You are so like the girl I was once.

Seeing you, my heart is light again.

Eat some, too.

Wait on the stairs.

We must talk between women.

Women are trollops and witches.

And don't listen, else...

the devil will cut off your ears!

His father's words catch in his throat.

Pay him no need.

His blood has corrupted yours.

Only his death can cleanse your wound.

Father.

Forgive me.

Give me your amethyst

as proof of your love,

and ever shall I obey you.

Whence comes this sorrow?

A dream.

I was a ship with wind-filled sails...

But God had emptied the sea of water.

What do you want?

Nothing.

I was looking for Mother Jeanne...

She's dead.

I replaced her.

She taught me.

It's death you seek.

Is it not?

Death of a kinsman.

My eyes know.

Give me something.

My eyes know.

I have love filters

and death needles,

herbs and leaves for wounds and fever.

But give me something.

I'm not Jesus who cures for nothing.

He cries because he has no milk.

Look!

My ravishers did this too.

You have an angel's face.

I'd have milk if I had a goat.

What stone is this?

An amethyst.

An amethyst.

Who is to die?

Perhaps not die...

The earth is teeming with hangmen,

more deadly than the plague.

Show me your puppet.

Stop crying, little mouse,

or I'll stick you with needles.

Take my spittle.

Today I bring good fortune.

I'm Fortune's dark charm.

Look.

See how it shines so large in the puddle.

Look.

I think I hate him.

You mustn't say that...not here.

Beatrice,

are you sure you didn't tempt him?

Sometimes a woman, heedlessly,

is the devil's instrument...

It's woman's nature, to beguile...

You gave me my first communion...

Would I lie to you?

Time has passed.

You're a child no longer.

Not since my father forced me!

He's the instrument of the devil!

Beatrice... your wrath...

I've so little power. If you only knew...

I can only repeat God's commandments:

Woman must submit to her father and husband...

as she did to God,

and one of lower station

cannot judge a nobleman.

And if I refused to obey?

If I wished his death?

Speak not thus!

Rub your tongue with nettles,

as penance.

And his?

If you speak true,

I'll consult the Bishop.

But it means the damning of a soul.

Excommunication?

Is that witchcraft?

No...

penance.

What did you make of the string, needles and cloth she gave you?

A puppet.

If he dies,

I'll go with you to Jerusalem.

Stop banging, everyone's gone.

Take all the ironwork:

the ploughshares, those chains.

It no longer amuses you?

She was the richest whore in all the land.

You'd see princes and lords, lost,

half-naked, who'd given her all they owned,

and more...

her buttocks were heavy and luscious as grapes.

You said she repented.

Indeed.

The priest Paphnuce walled her in her cell,

in the desert, near Antioch.

Like the recluse.

Only she's not a whore.

"Where can I relieve myself?" she asked.

And he said, "In your cell."

"Your sins of old merit this shame."

And for food?

"And how shall I pray?" she asked.

"Say not His name for your lips are impure..."

"...not lift your hands for they are sullied."

He's dead! He's dead!

He said this:

"You Who made me, have pity on me."

Come, touch my hand.

Come.

Touch me.

Why do you think I'm dead?

Your face.

Black is my face, as is my soul, and yours.

We're both born under Saturn.

The Bishop will be pacified if I wed you...

to Bertand Lemartin.

Lemartin will pay handsomely for you.

The Bishop is fond of gold, he's a churchman.

Lemartin has offered to return my land.

That interests me, I'm a knight.

But you, my sweet whore.

Who will have your tenderness?

I black your face

to hide your blushes.

Where is the amethyst?

You swallowed it for love of me or penance?

God should have made woman color of ashes

to spare man disillusionment.

Disrobe.

Beatrice, will thou take for husband

thy father and Lord, Francois Cortemare?

Arnaud!

Take back the statue!

Do not abet this heresy!

I'll bring you food,

I'll wash you, care for you,

dress you, my little girl.

None shall lay a hand on you again.

Only I, your father,

shall have such privilege.

You will wear this necklace.

Marguerite, stay in the chamber,

with the birds.

I want flowers, everywhere.

The measures are fine.

Make a hole in the door to let through a bucket.

Can we go?

Father was hard-pressed.

I know...in this world...

demons exact more than angels.

Let us go now.

But I must follow you on foot.

On foot!

This mule is a gift.

My legs refuse, not my will.

I never could mount beasts.

But you, Arnaud?

Does the light yet attract you?

The light?

I don't know.

What can I do for you, Milord?

Bless the nuptial bed

of Francois de Cortemare and his daughter.

I order you!

The sacrament comes only from God.

You spoke true, Beatrice.

I'll tell the Bishop.

So be it, old cripple, get out!

Go tell the Bishop, the Pope even!

Excommunicate me!

I give you back my useless soul.

Throw out the flowers.

Marguerite no longer comes to Mass?

After you see the Bishop,

have this made into the dress as I indicated.

Forcing one's daughter

is no cause for excommunication.

It's for loving her they want to punish me.

No, it's for not loving Christ.

She betrayed me.

I'm selling her to save my soul.

You've become a coward?

Richard!

I don't dread Hell.

We already dwell there.

The light is in Jerusalem.

You never had a doll?

Ah, no.

Mother had one, with Spanish finery.

You saw it?

No.

My grandmother told me.

When Mother was carrying Arnaud

she'd hug it close.

Perhaps that's why Arnaud is too gentle.

What became of it after?

The doll?

Yes.

I don't know.

Perhaps buried with her.

I should have liked it.

Jehan will never return.

He's a puppy revolted by stench.

This will find us work in town.

There's no food here.

And this matters with the Bishop.

They might excommunicate the lot of us.

And if she takes fright and seeks exit,

she'll be shut in again,

even if she goes mad.

Only death will free her,

as she vowed to Jesus.

I'd rather go barefoot to Jerusalem.

Don this gown and come down.

Beatrice, back for the revenge?

How much land do you deem yourself worth?

How much your golden hair, your angel's face?

Your chaste shoulders?

Shame if you give her to a commoner.

Your father accords your hand

if I should win your heart.

I have traveled

to Sinai, Rhodes, Alexandria,

Gaza, Beyrouth, Mt. Tabor,

Jerusalem even.

But the only land I seek to inhabit

is that of your soul.

I care nothing for your father's land.

I am a Christian, Madam,

but since seeing you

I desire to kneel only before you,

to worship and adore only you.

The only land I seek to inhabit

is that of your soul.

I desire to kneel only before you,

Beatrice.

Forgive my vanity.

I'll tell my husband to adore Thee first.

No.

I won't tell him,

I'll beg him softly, my eyes downcast,

as befits a good and loving wife.

My heart overflows love.

He's gone.

Go look!

Honesty is a Lord's duty.

He wanted you virgin,

unploughed land!

I offered to resew you here for a free acres,

then take you again, resew you...

and exchange you again,

until I got all my land back.

20 nights

deflowering the same virgin.

But Lemartin refused.

Let the Pope in Avignon excommunicate me!

Run out in the fields.

You're deathly pale.

That mine enemies desperate for thy did

shall bear me no harm nor attempt

to lead me astray from thy company.

Are you afraid?

I'm with Jesus.

You have no food?

No.

Where are you going?

Where there's food.

I shoot better than the English!

Kick me!

Kick me!

In the belly.

My father has sown the devil's seed.

Do as I say.

Be brave.

Be brave, Arnaud!

Harder.

I ordered him to do it!

Tomorrow we go hunting.

You'll be the prey!

I saved you a little if you want.

Come.

Softly.

Soon it will be spring.

Sure you didn't filch that crown?

I swear it.

Stand up straight.

Walk.

Get up, wenches!

On your feet!

You are, will be, or were by fate or choice, whores!

Run!

We'll start the hunt at daybreak.

Run!

Let's go!

Strip him, you wenches.

I said wenches!

Go on!

Indulge in my son's body,

still hot from running.

Imagine him poor,

the task will be easier.

No! Francois!

Jehan!

Jehan!

Where have you been?

Take me away.

I am weary.

Weary.

Take me away.

My Lord God, I hate you.

I am waiting for you, Beatrice.

Where will you go now?

To Jerusalem.

Did you ever love me?

No.

Here.

Say the act of contrition.

No.

I don't believe in a Trinity

or in a son of God fallen so low...

as to be born in a woman's baby.