All language subtitles for versailles.2015.s01e02.repack.hdtv.xvid-fum

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- What news, Sire? Does the child...
- Stillborn. A funeral is planned.

Have the tailors arrived for our pavilion?

They are en route. It
is the talk of the court.

Sire,

- my heart is heavy for your loss.
- Ensure the talk does not abate.

Make it the gossip of the card tables.

Leave us now.

- Before we begin, Sire...
- You will not address the king directly.

I think he already has.

The men we apprehended wore
Spanish leather on their person.

If I wore a pair of clogs,
would that make me a Dutchman?

- You would have me be silent?
- Deeply.

I only wish His Majesty to be aware

since we already have a
Spanish influence in our lives.

Her Majesty must remain
abed at least a week, Sire.

And as for the condition of the
child, I have an explanation.

I cannot wait to hear it.

As you know, Sire,

Her Majesty has enjoyed the
company of a little blackamoor,

Nabo.

She liked to play games with him,

peekaboo and so on.

As I understand it, Sire,

shortly after Her Majesty fell pregnant,

Nabo hid behind a piece of furniture

and jumped out upon her
to give her a surprise,

and he gave her a look of such force

that it served to corrupt
the royal womb with darkness.

It must have been a very penetrating look.

Where is the child now?

A wet nurse, out of sight.

She has our trust.

You're sure?

Quite sure, Your Majesty.

Very well. Fabien, do as you must.

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Sire, we may have war

or we may have splendour,
but I do not believe

that we can have both.

Then it must be war.

Then the Dutch will
secure their trade routes

into West Africa, and we
shall have no part of them.

To see our rivals profit
in wealth and stature

from our own inaction is not
a price we should be paying.

As lucrative as these
routes may be for the Dutch,

you cannot put a price on glory, Sire.

The Dutch are mistaken.

And France has my wife to thank for that.

Como se enceuntra?

Est� mejor?

You have no colour in your cheeks,

unlike your daughter.

Please, husband. Where is she?

"Husband."

Do you know what Socrates
had to say about marriage?

"By all means marry.

If you get a good wife, you'll be happy.

Get a bad one, you'll
become a philosopher."

I must tell you, Madame, I
am feeling very philosophical.

Madre de Dios.

What we do here resonates
throughout the world.

Do you imagine this William
of Orange in the north,

if he knew what had happened here,

he would pause for a second at our borders?

That he would he see the king

and his country as
anything other than weak,

debased,

a laughing stock?

This was not the act of a wife or queen.

This was an act of sedition by a traitor.

Where is our daughter?

Your daughter is in God's mercy.

French when it pleases you,
Spanish when you choose to hide.

If the court thinks me an idiot,

at least they think me worthy
of something, even if it is pity.

You will find no pity from me.

Her Majesty looks unwell.

See that Masson tends to her.

Her confinement shall be extended

until she is fit to rejoin us.

That you would reward any favour

- with interest.
- Mm-hmm!

And yet,

I am still waiting,

after you had me spread
all those lies for you

about your little blonde friend.

That's what I love about you,
Cousin. You are so very patient.

Never doubt my affection for you.

Oh! By the king!

"The king invites you

to a private showing of
diverse suits of lace... "

There was a domestic working in the hallway

north of the birthing room.

- "... master tailors, embroiderers... "
- Pallid, green eyes,

- scar on her chin.
- "... a grand carousel"

I want her name.

- "will follow in their honour." Mother!
- Aren't you thrilled?

Oh!

Have we heard from Rossignol on the cipher?

No.

The moment he sends
word, you shall fetch me.

Yes.

Thank you.

That is very expensive firewood.

If I do not burn these,
the rest shall die, Sire.

A greening disease is spread
to many, caused by flies.

But the rootstock is strong,

and if we can girdle and
graft onto the budwood,

scions take, the trees propagate,

the orchard is saved!

How do you know the rootstock is strong?

What is the measure?

I make it my business
to know the provenance

of every tree Your Majesty receives.

This one

came first from the
University of Strasbourg.

This one,

the botanic garden at Montpellier.

Before that, China, Arabia.

To know the seed is to know the root.

To know the root is to know the tree,

and the fruit that follows thereafter.

So, I burn the sick to preserve the pure,

and the king shall have his orange blossom.

You're very well spoken for a soldier.

Words are weapons, Sire.

I've used many in my time.

But I'm a gardener now.

My gardener.

Just look at them.

A king either rules his
ministers or is ruled by them.

Only power controls a country,

and as of now, the power lies with them.

It is time to show them who you are.

Without the documents of law before us,

my edict has no legitimacy.

Where are the archives, and
why are they not before us?

Are they still on the road?

Sire, the decision was taken
to turn the caravan around.

Taken by whom?

The road from Paris is very dangerous,

especially when it approaches

the royal lands around this lodge.

We could not have court
materials taken hostage.

That is exactly what has
happened, Mr. Louvois.

The masters of the tailor's
guild arrived safely.

One would think the king's guard

might also stand a chance of survival.

We think only of security.
We merely serve, Your Majesty.

For now.

If Monsieur Louvois does
not soon hold his tongue,

I may volunteer to hold it for him.

I would rather have an honest critic

than a false friend, Bontemps.

Sire, he seems to talk only
of his opposition to you.

He takes contrary positions
to all of your plans,

then declares them thunderously
to anyone who will listen.

And long may he continue.

I am sure I do not understand, Sire.

You will.

What news of your son?

Bontemps?

Is he all right?

Carmelite and lavender.

Do you like it?

Persian silk.

Leave it alone.

Forgive me, Monsieur.

The royal baby!

We all have a heavy heart.

I saw something.

I do not understand.

The child was alive and
the strangest colour!

What madness are you speaking?

Please, Sire, I beg you.

I say this in the strictest confidence

and in the spirit of loyalty.

My mother works for you at St. Cloud,

thus I felt I must speak it.

Perhaps you might help me
join her there in service?

I'm so scared!

The doctors made every effort,

but the pox was too strong,

the fever too much.

It took him.

I am with you in your loss.

Go home.

Sire, you are my home.

You must grieve while you can.

I will.

Be with those you love.

I am, Sire.

You defy me?

My place is with you.

God is punishing me

for hurting those closest to my heart.

He is testing you, Sire.

He is offering you a gift.

Vengeance and mercy are both his to choose.

They are also yours.

I believe he placed this child
in your care for a reason.

I've heard enough.

- She is strong. Let her live.
- And then what?

Come now.

Truly,

answer me.

Sire, I do not presume
any authority or judgement.

Of course not.

A secret such as this
has the power of a tide.

Once released, it will go where it must,

beyond our control,

and that will be the end of my life,

of your life,

of everything we know of this court.

- Sire, I meant only...
- Grieve your loss,

but do not forget your place.

That colour...

She needs the distraction. It will pass.

You sound very sure.

You doubt my opinion?

I only see that she has not recovered.

You have a different solution, perhaps?

Why continue on the same course

if there is no improvement?

Why not change what is being done?

I am not going to argue with you.

Besides, what is done is done.

Have you packed the bags?

Father, stop this thinking.
It will be the end.

Of both of us

if we do not take measures!

Then let me help you.

We cannot unsee what we have seen,

and they will kill us for it.

She needs us here.

Sire,

I serve you now

as I served your father.

He did things as they
have always been done.

I see you as a very
different kind of man...

born in a new age,

born perhaps years ahead

of all who love and follow you.

The choice is clear, Sire.

There are 2 paths, one
worn and one yet to be.

How you plant your next step ahead

in this moment will determine
the way ahead for all of us.

We know how the kings of the past

would have moved against this problem,

but you are different, Sire.

You are the king of our future.

The only question is what kind shall it be?

Add a monthly stipend
to the royal household.

Under what name should I...

The pension must remain outside of record,

outside of all record.

Do as you must.

Baptize it thoroughly.

See how life fights death.

Cherish this moment.

It is God-given.

Stop at once! Fabien!

- Give her to me!
- Our work protects the king.

Your work here is finished.

What chance does that wretch
have outside these walls?

That is not your concern.

Tomorrow, the Gazette de France

will report on funeral preparations

with all consideration of a royal passing.

A grave is prepared.

A grave error, to be sure.

How is he?

As you would expect.

He should be here.

The king does not mourn.

In public, perhaps.

In truth, anywhere.

It's not only protocol.
The man does not weep.

Not with you, perhaps.

It takes a woman to see it.

His heart will be full of sorrow.

His heart,

if he has one,

is a whole other matter entirely.

Is it not?

You look nice.

Our Father, who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come,

thy will be done on
earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread,

and forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those
that trespass against us.

Lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil...

... now and forever.

Amen.

Amen.

Who is that?

He's your son.

Louis XIV.

Not yet, he's not.

A maid comes crying to you

and says she's got information
about the royal baby,

and now she's dead.

Now we're told we cannot leave Versailles

because the queen is unwell.

What's going on?

What is your brother hiding?

You know him better than anyone.

You be careful about what you
say and how loudly you say it.

Do you think the king would think twice

about dispatching you?

Perhaps the baby was alive after all.

- We saw the child buried.
- We saw a box buried.

Your brother thinks you're weak.

You have more power than you realize.

Use it!

I intend to.

This is your moment to shine, my love.

I know.

Show them who you are.

The Spanish have fortified the towns of

Charleroi, Tournai, Douai and Lille.

G�n�ral Aumont has his
troops in the north, Turenne.

His battalions lie to the east of Cambrai.

I say cut off all of Flanders,

along with Lille

and the large Spanish bases in the east...

Bruges,

Ghent,

Brussels and Namur.

But to achieve your goal, we'd have

to cut the Spanish off
from Tournai and Douai.

Who would lead? Every man is accounted for.

There is one, perhaps.

But in truth, he may not be ready.

To meet here is too dangerous.

We cannot leave while the queen is unwell.

- The king will not have it.
- Perhaps that is his intention.

Many noble families will ride
in for the carousel of fashion.

This is our moment to make our case.

I hear the Duc de Cassel shares our intent.

Then let him come.

De Cassel does his own will.

He's too rich and too powerful

to listen to any other man but himself,

but if we were to persuade his friends,

then we might yet persuade him.

No matter what,

the building of Versailles must be stopped.

We grow in number everyday,

and not even a king can stop a tide.

I have never seen a cipher quite like this.

Even Rossignol cannot break it.

This was in Montcourt's rooms,
you say, yet he walks free?

Free, but not unwatched.

So we do not know what it says?

These symbols share a common thread

with those we liberated from the prisoners.

Spaniards?

Someone inside your court was helping them.

Someone inside was a friendly face.

Then we must summon Montcourt to us.

Better to lie fallow
and collect information.

This paper

was placed freely upon Montcourt's bureau.

So he may not have known its true purpose.

Well, one thing is clear:

There is a plot against you, Sire.

Montcourt has wounded you before,

and he may try again.

Oh! See, that's very nice!

The men are at war, and so are we.

The men use their
swords. We use our beauty.

But the end is the same, my dear.

Conquest.

This one is nice.

Oh, you'll need more than just a dress.

A filigree bracelet and
a necklace of diamonds,

believe me!

But how will we pay?

Oh! Let me worry about that.

Your job is to bring me a king.

He's not even here.

When you gaze at a king,

do not avert your eyes,

especially when you
look as you do right now.

You were never more
beautiful than at this moment.

Leave us.

Take it off.

There is talk of war.

Always.

My husband would love to fight.

Is that his desire?

He talks of nothing else.

If I send him to the Spanish Netherlands,

he may not return.

A glorious death would not displease him.

That is my brother you are talking about.

I speak it, Sire,

but you think it.

Well, a little death is good for everyone.

Le Chevalier de Lorraine!

Philippe, Duc d'Orl�ans!

Oh, look!

You mock me?

How can I not?

You are an embarrassment to the king.

You mock me, you mock my brother,

and that makes you a traitor.

If I smite you, you will fall,

which makes me a dead man.

Coward!

Stop!

I think you've made your point.

Have you lost your mind?

You choose who I marry,

you choose where I live and
how much money I can spend,

but you do not get to choose
what I wear and who I fuck.

Understand this:

Everything you are reflects on me.

I've been dressed like this
since I was 3 months old.

My goal in life was to be less than you.

It was not my choice. It was my duty,

so that I would not be the
cloud in front of the sun.

You think it's hard to be a king?

Try being a king's brother for a day.

You can't trick me.

I know what you're planning here

and what you're hiding.

That's right.

I know you,

Brother.

I have never given you anything other

than my love and respect.

Is that what you say to yourself

- while you're fucking my wife?
- Someone has to!

Everything I have, I share with you,

but you won't share the truth.

How can I have your back if
you won't tell me the truth?

There are some things you cannot know,

that only a king can know.

What happened to the baby?

The child did not survive.

Don't you understand how rumours start?

Your silence only fuels the fire.

Let me help you.

I have never uttered
an ill word against you,

my brother.

It's not your words that worry me...

Brother.

Majesty,

I wanted you to know
I've been praying for you.

Why?

As we sink into our deepest
misery, we must remember:

God's will is to rouse our souls

in longing for our promised Saviour.

"Know that our redeemer liveth."

You are a whore.

You come to me for contrition

even as my king's seed swells your belly.

We are all damned in this
place. Do you not see?

I am the queen of harlots,
and you are a pious puta,

and we can beg for mercy all we like.

The hellfires are gaping
and will swallow us all.

Her Majesty is tired. You must leave.

You tend to Her Majesty.
I'll get items for a poultice.

She's sick because of the birth.

Where is Nabo?

And the poultice will reduce
the swelling of the womb.

It is swelling for a reason.

Do as I say!

Help me, please!

And call for the king.

Your Majesty, let me at
least make you comfortable.

Your Majesty?

Your Majesty!

Get my father, quickly!

Your Majesty!

The north and the east
are out of the question.

We simply cannot...

You took it.

Brother, you are red in the face.

You took my tactic, and you gave it to him.

All my life I have longed for
war, even the smallest taste,

and you deny me again and again.

- Ask me who will lead the charge.
- Who will lead the charge?

You will.

Sire,

you mentioned that the
man might not be ready yet.

I was talking about you, Louvois.

Congratulations, Brother.

You are going to war.

Sire, the queen!

- It must be in there.
- God in heaven!

Push on her stomach where you feel my hand,

near the ovarium.

- I'll pull it out through her lower womb.
- Pull what out?

If she dies, we both die.

There, I have it!

Her pulse is stronger.

We will never speak of this.

Speak of what?

Her Majesty was unwell, Sire, and bled,

but I'm glad to say her condition
now looks as though it will improve.

So I see.

You may leave.

You will stay.

Privacy!

Show me your arm.

What is that in your hand?

Is this how you stopped the bleeding?

Lie to me, you lie to God.

Afterbirth.

- I removed it from her uterus. It is...
- I know where it is.

How did you know it would stop the blood?

A guess.

I'm a midwife trained by my father.

I am also a student of
anatomy and medicine.

I do not recall signing any
laws allowing women doctors.

I took body parts, studied the organs,

took down detailed notes and drew them.

A justice would assume the worst
and have you burned at the stake.

- If that's your command...
- My command...

is that you will remain close
to me on medical matters.

As to your father's position,

in the eyes of the court,
he will remain our physician,

but the advice I will
heed will come from you.

Bontemps, let in some air.

Unless you advise against it?

As long as we cover her, the
fresh air will give much benefit.

Comfrey and calendula will aid her healing,

rosemary for the pain.

Don't look so surprised.

I've put many women to bed.

Noble opinion is ours.

We shall need more than that.

We have our tinder,

but now one of us must strike the flint.

If it is to be me,

so be it.

I must tell you all,

I believe that very soon we shall
have a revolution in our country.

The world knows France to be
a master of the battlefield,

but one glimpse around this
glorious room will tell you

soon it will be our textile
mercers and our master tailors

who shall transform the world.

Our fashions will be revered
just as much for their beauty,

elegance, refinement and grace,

the finest in the world.

Many of you mentioned at the carousel

your desire to acquire one of
the emerald rings on display.

I am afraid to say this was
never going to be possible

because I have bought every single one,

as I wished you all to have one as a gift

at this very special evening.

I hope you are enjoying
the orange blossoms.

I can trace the rootstock of these trees

back to the ancient
citrus forests of Arabia.

Which reminds me.

Montcourt!

How is your wife?

Dead, Sire.

She passed away 6 weeks ago, sadly.

Thank you for the speed with
which you rushed back to court.

I can see you didn't even have time

to change after the funeral.

These are not my mourning clothes, Sire.

They're not your evening clothes, either.

Neither are they French clothes, Montcourt.

Your father, the baron,

inherited his title
from his grandfather, no?

Yes, Sire.

Yet this was a title originally
bequeathed to his grandmother,

the Baroness of Saint-Maur.

But she married no higher than "seigneur."

Seigneur Charles

de Saint-Maur no less, Sire.

And no more, sadly, for you.

A farmer's son might call himself

Charles de Saint-Maur

if indeed that is where he was born.

Your father was a common
man with a fiefdom,

a vassal to his overlord, the true noble,

the Grand Seigneur.

Isn't that right, Montcourt?

You might be labelled a vassal, perhaps,

or a peasant,

yet you seek to raise
yourself above those men,

both of whom would gladly sweat
and toil to feed their families,

pay their taxes

and honour their duties to their king.

You think yourself above them, Montcourt,

yet you lie far below.

You pay nothing

and do nothing, which leads me to believe

you are nothing,

which begs the question...

What is a nothing doing at my court?

I can find you my papers, Sire.

I beg you,

allow me to prove my worth.

The papers are all here, Montcourt,

after an inexcusable delay.

As to the delay, Sire, as I mentioned,

um, we did not wish to bother you

- with such trivial affairs of the state...
- I AM THE STATE!

It has come to my attention

that many of you are uncomfortable here

on our visits to Versailles.

Many of you prefer Paris

or your lands and estates,
which you so dearly miss,

some only a short ride away.

To all of you,

I say this...

You will soon get used to it,

and we shall all soon discover who we are.

Your noble birth freed you from our taxes.

Your falsehood has condemned you to pay.

- I have no money but my estate.
- Take his keys, then.

What do I do, Sire?

I'm sure you will think of something.

You, what is your name?

Pierre de la Croix.

God smiles on you, la Croix.

I do not know that man.

He does not belong in our court.

The time has come to prove
to me who you are, all of you.

You can rest assured I will do the same.

We are all under suspicion now.

Every single noble family must
produce their papers or pay taxes...

Mother, what is all this proof
everyone is talking about?

Proof is proof, my dear. We
have nothing to worry about.

Now go and enjoy yourself.

Pull up a chair.

I said a chair, not a stool.

A chair with arms.

Only a king may sit next to His Majesty

- in a chair with arms.
- You're more than a king.

You are my friend.

I would very much like to
hear stories about your son.

In his last hours,

he asked me to tell him
about my life with you.

And what did you say?

I told him the truth,

that it is God's gift to
me to be by your side...

... that the gardens seem so glorious

that they themselves
gave birth to beauty...

and might steal the breath from any man.

I also told my son he would one
day work and live in my place..

That he might find himself

part of the finest family in the world...

all of whom dare to dream

they might one day live like a king...

or a queen...

in a palace that will seduce your eyes

and steal your heart,

and that one day, when we are all gone,

they will write stories
about this place of wonder.

But when they do,

I fear those that hear
it might not believe it...

... and think it some kind of fairytale.

Oh my God! Oh my God!

Did your son approve of the dream?

He asked me if that was where he was going.

I told him it was.

Some would say your son
is in a better place.

I happen to believe that true paradise

lies in his father's arms,

to be here with you

in this moment.

But that is not our choice.

God has made his plans,

and we cannot question his design,

just as my people can't question mine.

But they will.

They mean to kill me, friend.

They would kill us all
to preserve the past.

They may even succeed.

But change will come no matter what.

And if we are to endure,
there is only one course.

Which is what, Sire?

We must lay our own foundation here.

Why here, Sire?

Because I will not be the King of Paris.

I know who I am.

I am Louis XIV.

I am King of France.

Now these nobles must
prove their worth to me.

See how they run.

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