All language subtitles for Les Rois Maudits (1972) - 3 - Les poisons de la couronne.En

THE ACCURSED KINGS

By MAURICE DRUON
from THE FRENCH ACADEMY

Translated and adapted by
selaflaure (selaflaure@gmail.com)

THE POISONS OF THE CROWN

Directed by
CLAUDE BARMA

24th of July 1315.

King Louis the Quarreler
summoned the host,

the great French army,
to march to the North.

Benefiting from everywhere
a natural reality,

seas, rivers or mountains,

the kingdom, through the plain of
Flanders and forests of the Ardennes,

is wide open to misfortunes.

In this breach of frost and winter
where nightmares conceive

is France taking
its appointments with history

Once again,

Flemish countryside rebelled,

and their count took part with them
against his suzerain,

the king of France,
Louis the Quarreler.

It's raining.

It rains as was not ever seen.

A heavy rain,

persistent, sticky, which sticks
the wagons and trickles over helmets,

corrodes swords.

The Lys River, on grow,
blocks every passage.

They must stop and sit
camp near Lille, in the flood.

In the royal tent,
where wave the flags of France,

red, embroidered with gold flames,

all the nobles of the kingdom are
gathered around the sovereign:

Philip of Poitiers, Louis's brother,

Robert, Count of Artois,

framed by these harsh barons
who are with his aunt Mahaut,

but whom he treats well with feasts
and girls to make them his allies;

Charles of Valois, the king's uncle,
good captain, but hated governor,

which now has the weapons to
noisy fulfill his ambitions;

Charles of Marche,
younger brother of the king;

Louis of Evreux,
the other uncle of the king,

and Gaucher de Châtillon,
the constable.

Quarreler,

a sketch of the king,

what do you see through the rain?

You are a king for six months now.

Your father, Philippe, has left France

in the position of first nation
of the Western world.

You destroyed all institutions
of the Iron King,

and you hung at Montfaucon
Enguerrand de Marigny,

General governor of the kingdom.

You let your uncle Valois
to govern in your place.

What are you doing
in this flat country,

to cheat your impatience to see

the beautiful
Clémence of Hungary coming,

whom you can make your wife,

now that Marguerite of Burgundy
was strangled in your order,

or, failing to feel King,
on your throne or in your bed,

you want to receive the unction of arms?

It rains!

It always rains!

It rains again.

- Mr. Constable,
- Sire...

- Our business is war?
- Yes, sir.

- For 40 years.
- Then make war!

Sire, I defeated the Spaniards.

I've beaten Flemish as well,

but I cannot persuade the sky.

Make Flemish kneel in the mud,
and step on their heads!

Sire, I had to ask you more
insistently to follow my advice.

I was determined to stop
earlier, on a height,

instead of swimming in the mud.

Mud or not, here we are.

The big mistake was
that we didn't withdraw.

I was worried some would say
we were afraid.

And the Flemish?

They're ahead,
on the other side of the river.

- And how many are they?
- The same number as us, sire.

And no happier.

They have the advantage
that they can provide easier,

and are supported
by the people of their burgs.

Come on, Gaucher! This fucking rain
spoils your state of mind.

Who says that a good horse attack

Wouldn’t spread out like sparrows
these footmen?

They're nothing but some weavers!

Charles, you weren’t
at Courtrai 13 years ago.

I saw these footmen in front of
our knights who attacked.

These weavers, as you say,
have overturned their saddles

and cut them by knife in their armors,
not deigning to take prisoners.

One can tell I wasn't here.
But now I am.

Bad! Everything goes wrong.

In the king's tent they argue:
attacking, not attacking...

They raise the camp,
one orders the attack...

In any case,
there is more rain than reason.

Look! Slutty girls

were brought by charity

led by the brothel owners.

Mr. Robert of Artois,
famous lad, I said,

installed them near his tent.
This way, you cannot lose.

It smells like wet leather, plonk,
urine, not to mention the excrements,

that clog your nose a little.

Something to drink! To drink!

Artois! Artois!

Pour! Hey, pour!

Come, Artois!

Enough!

My beautiful seniors

Do you know what I'm thinking of?

My folks,

for whom the wars in Flanders
don't worth a dime.

Of my father, count Philip,
mortally wounded at the Battle of Furnes!

We are around him!

And my grandfather, Robert, pierced,
stiff, four years later,

at Courtrai.

Why don't you tell me a little how well
my aunt Mahaut treats you!

With the help of her tribe d'Hirson,
of the chancellor, and treasurer!

Tell me how she crushes you with
charges and denies your rights!

She's right!

Sheep! Here's what you become!

Sheep led by a woman!

Enough, Monseigneur!

I swear, my beautiful monsters!
If tomorrow we go to war,

and if any Hirson female
pass me by,

I'll pierce it from side to side!

And I'll pretend
that Flemings did it!

Easy, easy!

Gentlemen,
let's put order in our thoughts.

First king's war.
It delivers the right opportunity.

But then, my servants, my companions,
my terrible ones,

then head back to Artois and
kick Mahaut's agents in the ass!

Sow horror
as if the end comes!

And we'll restore, as I promised,
our good habits,

as they were
when my ancestors were alive!

Gentlemen,

let's swear we will not break

before our good sire Robert
will not be back as our count!

We swear!

You see, brother Evrard,
what bounded people?

Fall is one heavy piece
zero. I hope with all my hate

they all die. I only came here hoping

to see the King of France
killed of a good sword blow,

with all his pigs and all.

May your supplications
be fulfilled, Master Jean,

by God, if possible,

- if not, by the devil.
- Do not call me "Master" here.

Brother Evrard,

go to Avignon. Find Cardinal Caetani.

Tell him that you speak on behalf
of my uncle, Jacques de Mollay,

and of all Templar brothers
hidden in France,

and that we want him as pope.

We will support him not only
through prayers, but with our hands.

Go, use the pass
to make your time.

And whatever happens,

even under torture,

do not forget that you know nothing.
That you did not see me before.

Fed by his hatred, brother Evrard
turn south through the rain.

A procession was coming from
ahead, on the road to Avignon

Clemence of Hungary's,

landed in Marseille
after a terrible passage,

and escorted by the faithful Bouville
and his friend, the young Guccio,

Lombard Tolomei 's nephew.

From the four corners
of Princess' litter roof,

the water ran
as from the churches gargoyles.

We could take the road again,
Madame.

- Mr. de Bouville?
- Went to see the road condition,

to find out
if the water didn't cut it.

- How is the sky above?
- Black, Madame.

So this is the beautiful France
in midsummer?

It isn't a summer like the others.
It's the summer of your happiness.

Madame, welcome to Avignon.

Joining the King Robert's niece
with the throne of France

fulfilled my prayers.

Well, Monseigneur, that conclave...

I still cannot be held.

We continue to be dispersed, some
at Carpentras, others at Orange,

ourselves in Avignon,
and Caetani in Vienne.

You see, gentlemen,
that it was useless

to worry at that cancellation

which you came not too long ago
to discuss it for your master.

Providence often feed
the wishes of the powerful.

Especially if it's helped
with a firm hand.

How did
Mrs. Marguerite de Bourgogne die?

Due to the rigors of prison, Madame.

And of sorrow for her sins,
no doubt about it.

What meant the Cardinal
speaking of the "firm hand"

that would help providence?

Cardinal is a strange man.

I always fail to follow
all his mind detours.

I think he meant
that prison is a severe regime

if the officer is meticulous,

and that this may be enough
to shorten a woman's days.

How's the weather?

Still raining, lady.

In Campagna, the sky must be blue.

Sire, my nephew,

inactivity wastes us
as much as the rain.

We cannot remain so long here,
where everything breaks at once:

men's souls and horses' skin.

What's your advice, Uncle?

Let's leave right tomorrow.

Find, upstream,
a crossing over the river.

Pounce on Flemings,

and before evening, turn them over.

With hungry soldiers and horses?

Reason to attack immediately! Tomorrow
Flanders will feed our people and horses!

Sire, it's crazy!
You will be hurt, or you will drown!

- Your plan, Gaucher?
- If you believe me,

the army must withdraw on a height,

near Tournai or Saint-Amand,

where we should wait for supplies,
for the water to drain...

Obviously, cousin Constable,

you get to 100 pounds per day
when king's army is in campaign,

and have little interest
to shorten the war.

Cousin, it's my duty to remind you

that not even King
could attack the enemy

unless the Constable
has given the order,

and this order, under
today, I will not do!

But the king can
always change his constable.

Brother, I fully share
Gaucher's advice.

Our troops couldn't fight
without a week of restoration.

It is also my opinion.

And these Flemings,
we will not ever punish?

Withdrawal or defeat:
Sire, this is your choice.

Attack, nephew!

We're hungry, we're swimming through
mud, we're talking instead of acting...

It's a defeated attitude!

But the Flemings might
be doing the same.

The first to come out of this morass
will win the battle.

Mrs. Clémence is in Avignon,
coming towards us.

Mr. of Bouville sent for me.

And he'll decide to retreat.

It would be better he remembers
that we advised him to do so.

Sire, my cousin,
I guess your concern.

You don't have enough money to keep
this great army doing nothing.

In fact,
you expect your new wife,

that we can't wait
to see her as queen,

As we all can't wait to see you
anointed king.

- My advice...
- Give it to us!

...is to backtrack, sire.

You will get as much glory
from a coronation

as from an adventurous battle.

So give up for the moment
to punish these wicked Flemish.

We will come in the same number
next spring too, and we will beat them!

Cousin, you spoke wisely.

But I swear to God,
who just warned us,

if next year I'll be still alive,
I will invade the Flanders,

and I'll have no mercy for them, unless
they'll leave themselves entirely on me.

Messire Constable,

the army should then retire,
if it cannot go on.

It's done.

- How much?
- 22 pounds.

Damn! They surely know, the witches,
how to value their work!

But they're risking so much.

How much? How much
did you keep for yourself?

Just enough to buy that red dress
that you have promised me,

but never give it to me.

22 pounds!
It's your idea, isn't it?

At last! Hopefully
we will succeed as well

the poison of Nogaret's candles.

I do not think a magical drink
should win my enemy by my side.

We must believe, Madame.
The recipe is good.

It will be enough to put this powder
into a drink,

make the Count of Poitiers drink it,

and shortly after you will see him
in love again for his wife.

You told me the truth when
you saw Jeanne at Dourdan?

Poor kid...
15 months in prison...

How is she?

Countess of Poitiers is doing well,
as well as she can be there.

Her skin is clean,
and she's only slightly weakened.

Just hope supports her,
and care that you show her.

I took a little blood
from her right arm,

which I mixed with vervein,
with lovage and saxifrage,

those medicines without fail
against the loss of love.

Ah, groom, how glad I am
to see you!

Did you know what I was doing?

I have read the state of my goods

to dictate my last wishes.

All Robert's vicious tricks
rush my end, my beautiful son.

I found out that my vassals, gathered
by him, were sworn against me.

As you can see, I already removed
my ornaments of war.

Please have a little hippocras.
My Beatrice prepares it like no other.

Philip, what are your feelings
about my daughter Jeanne?

Finally. Philippe, how could Jeanne
Betray you?

She loves you and only you!
And madly!

Remember her cries, when they
Put her in that black carriage:

"Tell Monseigneur Philippe
I'm innocent!"

I know, I have been to Mau Buisson.

And here she is since 15 months at
Durden and no bitter word against you,

Only words of love, and prayers
To God for regaining your heart.

I'll tell you, you have a faithful
Wife, more devoted than many others,

Who was too severely punished.

- She was seriously guilty.
- Of weakness!

She would have told me
her sisters-in-law behaviour.

She's good and she let herself go. It's
Marguerite who abused her friendship.

Marguerite's the sinner,

the whore, the bitch!

What you are about to hear
will surprise you, Philippe.

I pity this poor Marguerite.

It seems that the king, your brother,
is not very well equipped.

On the contrary, I was always told
that he was normal for that matter.

even a little scared
and violent, but in any case

not a clumsy.

You don't have
the women's confessions, like I do.

Philip, let's talk clear.

Do you think that little Jeanne
of Navarre is your brother's,

or of Marguerite's lover?

My uncle Charles of Valois
states she's a bastard,

and Louis himself, by the way he's
rejecting her, seems to confirm it.

- Well, you see.
- On the contrary, my uncle of Evreux,

and, of course, his relatives from
Burgundy, pretend she's legitimate.

- And why are you asking me this?
- For nothing.

I just thought that, if a misfortune
would happen to Louis,

and, as it is,
his health is not so strong

you're the second
on the succession line.

Whereas, if Jeanne
is declared bastard, then...

you will be the first,
and it's you who will reign.

Everything your brother will do
will be against you.

I'll tell you what I think: in fact,
you'd be a much better king than him.

You are made to be king, Philip!

You are made to be king, Philip!

His new wife who comes from Naples
will give perhaps my brother a heir.

If he’s able to procreate,
or if God will give him the time.

Philip! Please save
my daughter Jeanne from death!

- What death?
- She did not deserve

the fate that awaits her!

- Who's threatening her?
- Robert.

Hatred made you miss your way.
Robert doesn't care a bit of Jeanne.

Did you know that he was agreed
with your sister Isabelle

to plot the perdition
of my girls and Marguerite's?

Don't think everything it’s told to you.

I saw that punk
sitting on the chair over there

coming in person to tell me my
misfortune, with a very sad face.

I thought he was sincere.
He licked his lips, the filthy dog!

But this won't bring him happiness.

You have none but Robert in your mind,
as he has only you in his.

It is enough that one of you
enters a clan,

for the other, right away,
enters the opposite one.

Between you two, there is
like a love against the grain.

Did you know
where this Satan of Robert was

the day Marguerite was found dead?

At Château-Gaillard,
inside the fortress.

Blanche heard everything and
sent me the news.

This is a very serious accusation.

Listen, Philip,
he will kill them one after another.

He can get everything from the king,
they are accomplices to the same crime.

Robert will go after my offspring,

and will open the gates of Artois
killing my incarcerated daughters!

I'm alone, widowed, helpless!

I don't want to die
leaving my children to this jackal!

Mother, we'll talk about it
at the coronation,

where we shall see each other soon.

God keep you.

He drank more than enough.

You shall see, Madame,

within a while,
Messire Poitiers will go to Dourdan.

I think he'll be a very good thing...
if it is to lose ours.

Clémence of Hungary
went from surprise to surprise.

She thought her wedding would be
prelude to two weeks of celebration,

with jousts, jugglers and minstrels,
as it used to be at royal weddings,

but this king,
so impatient to meet her,

that he didmissed his army,
has offered her a village wedding.

In this 13th of August 1315,
at Saint-Lyé, in Champagne,

Valois, like a giant golden hornet,
led the fiancee at the altar.

Louis went alone: not a woman
from the family was there.

Clémence was looking at Louis.

She caught herself thinking that,

if she could choose between
the three princes of France,

she would prefer
the Count of Poitiers.

Louis was looking at Clémence's face,
triumphant in her calm beauty.

She didn't look at all
like Marguerite.

He was relieved.

In the face of this blonde, his body
had no fear of failure.

A sudden thunder resounds, and while
he put a too broad ring on her finger,

the rain began again to fall.

Get gobble, Messeigneurs!
Take it! It's yours, Souastre!

Catch it, Caumont!

Up your ass, Caumont!
Or your ideas will be blurred!

His Majesty the King forbids pissing
on the stairs where the queen will pass.

Sire, in France the women from the
family do not attend the wedding?

The war with the Flemings
kind of messed our plans.

Mrs. de Valois and Mrs. of Evreux
should have been here, greeting you.

The rain must have delayed them.

But if the women where here, sire,
your barons...

would have behaved the same way?

But the barons of France
are at your feet, Madame!

Wine! More wine!
If I'm not allowed to pee,

I cannot help but drink, either!

At your feet, with all their grace!

Anyway, sister, you haven't had
the opportunity to meet my wife.

And why is that?

Because she's still imprisoned
in the castle of Dourdan.

- Sire, my brother...
- Yes?

In this day of joy for you,

I ask you to cancel the penalty
given to my wife Jeanne.

Her errors were not crimes,
and I know she regrets them.

Stand up. Stand up!

- Sire, my cousin!
- Sire, my husband!

- Go on, Madame.
- Sire, my husband,

for my sake, give your brother
the favor he requires.

Today is the day of engagement,

and I would like that all the women
of your kingdom were happy.

There's nothing I wouldn't do
to please you.

Brother, you can take
Mrs. Jeanne home,

and bring her with us
whenever you want.

Just what I wanted to avoid.

My brother, do I have your royal word?

Thank you, sister.

Cousin Robert, you were saying?

I just wanted to drink
for the queen's health.

Who deserves her name of...
Clémence.

To the queen!

To the queen!

And for Blanche, sir, my brother,
what do you decide?

Blanche? Never!

At the end of this exhausting day,
Clémence was so tired

that, for her, the events of the night
evolved like in another life.

She proved to be obedient,

as things should happen.

Louis was plunging in happiness.
The chance has served him right.

Emotions, fatigue, deceptions
alltogether brought him Clémence.

Several times, he won this nice flesh;
he has defeated his fantasies.

He never felt more king as this night.

The king just married, and in the
North of France troubles already began.

The barons of Artois, as they
promised their count Robert,

cross the county with their banners,

trying to win people
by their side.

Messire Denis of Hirson,

you know we forbade your brother
Thierry, chancellor to lady of Mahaut,

to make appearance in Artois,
saying he'd be dead if he would?

Or, every day,
Madame Mahaut's agents

are hurrying, under threat
of baton or imprisonment,

to collect favorable evidence
to your brother's administration.

We don't want Thierry anymore.
We want as suzerain our count Robert!

Shout with us: "Long live Count Robert!"

Shout!

Shout!

Long live the count Robert!

That's it! That's alright.

And now, let's kill him!

Denis of Hirson,

we order you, under oath,
to deny your brother, Thierry,

and say loud and clear
that you demand, as we do,

that he should not be allowed to ride
roughshod over Artois, which is ours!

- Deny him!
- Kneel!

Deny! Deny!

Say: I deny my brother,
Thierry of Hirson!

He stand against us.

I deny my brother Thierry of Hirson!

- I deny my brother...
- Thierry of Hirson!

- Thierry of Hirson!
- Under oath!

Under oath!

Robert lets us know
that Madame Mahaut,

wrapping her move in great secrecy,
arrives in Artois.

She'll be here by tomorrow.

- Madame...
- Let me.

Let me breathe the smell
of wet earth!

- For 16 months I saw nothing but walls!
- Madame, please, come.

Mrs. Mahaut told to take care
not to show at all

after our arrival in Artois.

You're sure my husband has not attached
to someone else all this while?

I assure you, Madame.

However, Mr. of Poitiers, even if he
would turn his eyes to another woman,

now he would not
be able to think of her,

after drinking the potion which
will wholly give him back to you.

As a matter of fact, he asked
the king your return.

Where is countess Mahaut?

Where is she hiding?

She isn't here.

She's in her castle of Hesdin.
I took her litter.

I am the countess of Poitiers.

It is dangerous, Madame,
to walk in Artois

without a good escort.

We will escort you.

They didn't recognize me.
Do not tell them my name.

What are you going to do, Souastre?

We have not the mother,
let's keep the daughter.

Well, my evil lords,

you, who walk high and low
to restore the good name of chivalry,

this is all you know to do?

To take my daughter
and the lady of her suite!

Come on, answer!

Would you like someone attacks your
women and maidens found on the road?

Do you think so I will relent?

What do you want from me?

Come on, talk, what excuses
have you got for your actions,

for which I'll require punishment
from the king?

Talk. Say what you must say.

Madame, we are simple people,

attached to two or three customs
here we want to regain.

Now we are strong,

and we hold hostage

Thierry of Hirson's head against
your and your daughter's freedom.

With your ancestors

has King Saint-Louis
made the crusades?

Beautiful French nobility,
truthfully,

who fights two single women!

And here's what your Monseigneur
Robert pushes you to do!

But he misinformed you.

Have you catch a woman?
There's her husband!

So, Messeigneurs,
you're discontented?

Well, we are too.

If we continue argue one another
using as well violence,

we will not get to anything good.

Souastre, Caumont! I salute you.

My good cousin of Fiennes!

I didn't expect you to visit me
in such a company.

Thus, holding my wife,
you have left the gate open.

It's a fair game!

Madame Mahaut couldn't refuse either.

But, Messire Souastre,

you have crossed three empty cortiles.

Yes.

Now deign to look outward.

Don't you see two companies of
archers? 800 people it's a fair game.

- Let's run!
- Why?

Once again I tell you
we want to avoid violence.

And I ask your suzerain
not to use arms against you.

Don't you agree, mother?

Let's try to settle
otherwise the differences.

Talk, gentlemen. And freely.

I'm listening.

Monseigneur, the barons of Artois
are noisy, rude, but faithful.

If they sealed an alliance between
them, it's not against the king,

but against their suzerain,

and have not resigned
before being exhausted

all their hopes
to make themselves understood.

We ask the restoration
of our good customs

given to us by king Saint-Louis.

We ask the dismissal of the
chancellor named Thierry d'Hirson

whose officers rob us
and mock us.

But Mrs. Mahaut promised you, as it
seems, that she'll apply the customs.

And that she'll investigate
those provosts and officers,

even her chancellor.

My companions, Monseigneur,
do not trust Mrs. Mahaut anymore.

Too much she promised, conspired,
too much she has played with us.

The ceasefire is demanded
in the name of the king;

so it's the king that you offend
by doubting his word.

And the kingdom shall not
to tolerate these escapades,

agitation and troubles.

But Messire of Artois assured us
he has spoken to the king!

I was expecting you to say this.

Take care, gentlemen, not too hard to
bend an ear to what Mr. Robert says!

He talks too easily
about the king, my brother,

and put you to work in his favor.

Monseigneur Robert has lost 6 years
ago his trial against Madame Mahaut.

And the king, my father,
was himself the judge.

What happens in this county

concerns only the countess
and the king.

Submit to this arbitration.

Ah, my son, you saved me!

I couldn't have shown
so much patience!

I have gained for you
a respite of 15 days.

Saint-Louis's customs!

They're getting me all bored
with the Saint-Louis's customs!

Hearing them, you'd believe
my father never lived before.

And why every time a great
sovereign make the kingdom advance,

must appear some fools
keen on living in the past?

What is more,
my brother inspirits them!

Philip, your wife is tired,

we offered her some
strange encounters with freedom.

Show her the way to your apartments,
we will send you the dinner.

God be praised!

We restored
the second couple of the kingdom.

- One doesn't become a queen to be happy.
- You're unjust, Madame.

Our good King Louis does him not
overwhelm you with blessings?

I know; I have more houses
that I could dream.

My husband offers me forests and
manors as he would offer jewels.

And all that, Angelina,

and all the jeweler’s art
couldn't replace our sun,

the sea,
and pleasure to live in Naples.

I'm cold, Angelina.

Cold in my heart.

My niece,

I bring you a news
that will shake the court.

Your sister-in-law, Madame of Poitiers,
is pregnant.

The midwives told me this morning.

I'm very happy
for Madame de Poitiers.

She can be grateful to you,
'cause you made it possible.

If you haven't asked for her
forgiveness on your wedding day...

God shows me that I did well,
for He blessed their union.

It seems, my niece,
that he blesses yours more slowly.

You know I do not chew much
on what I say.

Does Louis... sufficiently fulfill
his debts about you?

I mean his debts
of a Christian husband.

The body debts, if you wish.

I do not see why
he would be criticized about it.

I don't think that there are reasons
to be already alarmed of.

Finally... does he regularly honors
your bed?

Almost every night, my uncle,
if that's what you want to know.

Then let's hope. Let's hope.

Understand, my niece,
that I made this marriage.

I don't want to be criticized
that I made a bad choice.

Women in my family are fruitful,

and they prove it, in many kingdoms!

My aunt Marguerite, you first spouse,

didn't give you any reason
to complaint, as I know!

- No!
- So if something will oppose

to your desire, it would not be
from my blood!

And about that, we talked enough
for today, and for always!

What, Madame,
you were let without a candle?

I will shout.

No, don't.

I don't want anybody.

Madame, you're crying?

Yes. Of jealousy.

I am envious of Mrs. of Poitiers.
Because she'll have a baby.

It's true that someone's happiness
might cause great pain.

- You don't have kids either?
- Oh yes, Madame,

I have a daughter who bears my name.

- How old is she?
- She just turned to 10.

- Since when are you linen maid here?
- Since this spring.

Just before your arrival.

Until then, I was at Palais de la Cité,
in the service of our King Louis.

Is it true that little lady of Navarre,
who is kept away from the court,

isn't of my husband's?

Well, Madame, I think nobody knows,
not even His Majesty Louis.

Only lady of Burgundy
could tell the truth.

But she's got her mouth full of dirt.

Madame, you're interested to know
if our king...

- Yes.
- Do not worry, Madame.

Wait.

What do you mean?

It's about the birth of Jeanne,
which they call "bastard"?

- No, Madame, I just...
- Speak!

I want to say, Madame,

that Mgr. Louis has no problem
in having a descendant,

as some mean people pretend.

- But who allows you to say that?
- I simply know.

I am the only one to know it.
They took care of that.

What do you mean?

- I'd rather shut my mouth up.
- On the contrary,

if what you're trying to tell me
is true, don't hide it.

Oh, it's true.

And if you knew it,
you would calm down completely.

Madame, it would not be an offense
for someone like you, so well-born,

and so kind, to tell him

that my daughter is Mgr. Louis's.

Mgr. Louis was so young...
He had no discernment...

I want to see your daughter.

You can, Madame. You can anything,
since you're the queen.

But I beg you to do nothing,

for then they will know
that I have told you,

and Mgr. Louis ordered
not to be seen by anyone.

- But why?
- Because she looks exactly like him!

Where is she?

She was closed in a monastery
just before your arrival.

But why? Why?

How could someone believe
I would approve something like that?

What kind of women the princes
of France are they used to?

And so, my poor Eudeline,

it's me the reason
why they took your daughter!

- I ask forgiveness from my heart.
- Oh, Madame,

- I'm aware it didn't come from you.
- But if it was made because of me...

You will take back your daughter,
and I will protect her.

No, Madame, do nothing! Better see her
bellow cassock than under the ground!

You talked too much, Eudeline.

- Or maybe not enough.
- I'm already sorry I have spoken...

How did lady Marguerite die?

Should you be the only one in court,
Madame, not knowing the truth?

Tell it to me!

He had her strangled, Madame.

Look, my dear,
what a surprise I have for you.

It's not a jewel, it's a rarity,
a trove of a jeweler.

Do not be afraid!
It's not made to hurt.

It's a fork to eat pears.

I ordered it, through Tolomei,
to a goldsmith in Florence.

There are only five in the world.

It's really good for eating fruits.

Louis...

How died your first spouse?

Marguerite died of lung fever,

which suffocated her
as I was told.

- Louis, can you swear on...?
- What do you want me to swear?

I have nothing to swear for!

I said what I said,
please be satisfied with that.

You don't have to know more.

I don't want anyone tell me
about Marguerite! Ever!

And you less than any other!

Louis... can you swear before God

that your will had nothing to do
with her death?

And where I should do it? You'd be the
last to have the right to reproach me!

You'd better blame it
on your grand-mother!

- My grand-mother?
- Yes, your grand-mother!

She asked that the wedding
should be until summer, so...

I was hoping...

You heard me right, I was hoping!
that Marguerite died before.

And I was heard, that's all.

Louis, now I'm sure.

It's because of this crime
that God don't give us children.

Oh, sire, my husband,

how much ugliness I saw
since I became queen of France!

- How many crimes you had to commit!
- What do you mean?

Marguerite strangled,

Marigny, your father's companion,
hanged;

and all the other chancellors
in prison,

This means to be king? To attempt
to the life of God's creatures?

Why, Louis? Why?

What do you want me to do?
I can't bring back the deads!

Why reproach it to me
if it can't be repaired?

You don't know what is to be king!

I'm beginning to find out, sire!

Well, if that bothers you,

break up with me!

Go back to Naples
beside your grand-mother!

I'm your wife, Louis.

To the better or the worse.

- I shall not leave you!
- My dear!

- How good you are!
- You must save your soul!

- Otherwise you'll never forget!
- I shall forget but in your arms!

- Let's ask God's help.
- Yes! Come, let's make love!

No, Louis! We must repent!

We will repent. Three days
a week, if you like!

Come, my impatience
is too big for you!

A pilgrimage, just you and me!
On our knees!

Come!

No!

No, Louis.

I do not want to be yours
until you will reconcile with heaven,

and until, forgiven,
we could hope for a child.

A pilgrimage...

The best pilgrimage
to provide a child

is made in a bed!

No, Louis! No!

Are you refusing me?

You don't like me a bit!

You treat me like Marguerite!

Am I doomed, not to
be loved by the one I love?

Do as you wish.

No! Let the candles burn.

Let your clothes fall.

I assure you, my dear,

I assure you that
we must go on pilgrimage.

I could anything until then.

I want to see you.
Naked!

That night,
a great cry rises

to the ceiling of the royal chamber.

Married since 5 months,
Clémence discovered

that she was queen
not only to be unhappy,

and that the gates of marriage
could open to unknown pains.

Two days before Noel,

in the largest hall
of Vincennes manor,

arranged as courtroom,

peers, seniors and magistrates
awaited the arrival of the king.

Between the countess Mahaut
and the barons of Artois

it seemed that everything will be
from now on in order.

The emissaries of the king
had increased their efforts,

and Philip of Poitiers himself

advised his mother-in-law
to give up where needed.

That day, the Quarreler felt
particularly good conscience.

He was going to give his sentence,
and everyone had to abide.

My dear brothers,

my dear uncles,

my dear cousins
and much beloved vassals,

We have a strong desire and duty,
the commission of God,

to keep peace in our kingdom.

I do not want blood shed anymore,

I do not want people
unjustly imprisoned anymore.

I want everyone to be treated
according to the rights he has,

and the understanding and friendship
reign everywhere.

Please read the arbitration,
Mr. Chancellor.

By the will of our too powerful, too
beloved and feared sire,

the king Louis the 10th,

the past is forgotten.

Hate, insults and hostility,
forgiven on both sides.

Madame the countess of Artois admits
her obligations to her subjects,

and is committed to maintain peace
in the county of Artois.

She will abolish customs in use
from the time of King Saint-Louis,

and which will be proved before her
by reliable people:

knights, clerks,
bourgeois, lawyers.

On the other hand, the countess,
for the fines she asks

will have to declare
the amount of each offense.

Finally, she will have to give back
to the seigneurs

the lands that she holds
without trial.

It was never about that!

Better to lose less,
than to lose everything.

Regarding master Thierry
of Hirson,

whose allies required him
to be prosecuted,

the king decides the charges will be
subject to the bishop of Thérouanne,

on which master Thierry depends.

The judgment will be made
by the bishop of Thérouanne

and strengthened by the king.

I swear on the Gospel,

personally
and on behalf of all allies,

to comply exactly to the
arbitration of His Majesty the King.

No! I refuse to swear.

I will not accept
this mischievous sentence!

Sire, my cousin!

You agree to be defied,
and slapped in the face?

We, your relatives, your barons,
we will not tolerate!

You know, sir, why Mrs. Mahaut
refuses your arbitration?

Do you know why?
Because you dared

to threaten to take him a part of
master Thierry's robbery sources!

But who is master Thierry?

Her real and only suzerain, a canon
that has shamed the church,

a chancellor who
shames the county.

I do not care, aunt,
if he serves you after dinner!

But to suggest you not to agree
with king's will,

here's what, in the name
of the kings of France,

I ask you,

my cousin, my master,

for your crown's honor,

no longer tolerate!

Creature of the devil, lying
and slander flow from your mouth!

Watch out not to bite your tongue
or swallow your saliva!

You'll die at once!

Your Majesty,
do you accept that this evil man

to treat like this a woman
and a princess at your court?

Sire, make justice!

Shut up, Madame!

Shut up!

I forbid you to return to Artois

before being sealed the sentence
that you were made aware,

until then you'll stay
in your home in Paris

or your castle of Conflans,
but nowhere else!

Enough for today.
Justice is done.

May you rather die!

Lombard or not, banker or not,

this Guccio knows errands!

Not to show in person,
even if you're not noble,

but to send goodies
means at least nobility of heart.

How many weeks have passed
since our friend's visit?

Since Marigny was hanged
at Montfaucon.

Should Guccio have been
forgotten us all?

He will ask my hand.

- Where did you get this idea from?
- It's not an idea. I know it.

It seems that we'll have a brother-in-
law. Our sister has found a husband.

And may we know the name
of this powerful baron,

who longs to unite
with our towers in ruins?

- I hope he's very rich.
- Sure he's rich.

It's Guccio Baglioni.

Ah! I die laughing!
Guccio Baglioni?

Do you know that the times we live

are so crazy

that the day will come when
common people's sons

will dare to ask
our sisters hands?

Guccio's coming here tomorrow.

I love him, Jean.

- Uncle, it will not be like that!
- Hey, you scare me!

- What will not be like that?
- Marie!

- Marie de Cressay!
- Well, talk. Talk!

I just arrived from Neauphle, uncle.

Those men are monsters!
The mother, and the two brothers!

I treated them as brothers!

I overwhelmed them with
everything, I fed them!

You must never feed the nobles.
Afterwards, they don't respect you.

They forbade Mary to see me.
They want to marry her.

No matter whom, but quick. Provided
he is noble. That's what they decided.

I've warned you, boy. You were wrong
falling in love with a noble girl.

They got nothing of their own.
They own us even their bed,

but spit us in the face
if our boys want to sleep in it.

Forget this affair. Choose
some nice girl from our families.

Either I'm marrying Marie,
or no one, uncle!

And I’ll let no one else to marry her!

This is the youth!

But 15 years after, she will be ugly;

you'll ask yourself
why did you wanted her so much,

she'll complain that you're Lombard,

that you're a commoner,
even dangerous...

But I love her, uncle!

I love more than anything
in this world!

And she? Does she love you?

I'm sure!

She told me she's ready to follow me
wherever I may go!

Figlio mio! Don't make
some foolishness!

I know many who would be pleased
to give you the punishment

intended to the seducers
of noble daughters!

Well, I'll go to see
the queen Clémence.

She knows me, she considers me
as a friend, she'll help me!

You'll go nowhere,
especially not to the queen!

Yes, the queen is all kindness,
charity and compassion,

but it's with our money
that the treasure pays alms.

Mgr. of Valois is deeply indebted to us,
and never defends us.

And he disappoints us a lot.

Enguerrand of Marigny's friends,
who have not a soft spot for us,

were released,

and they reunite
around the count of Poitiers.

There's nothing worse
as a divided kingdom,

where even about his enemies
one cannot be sure anymore.

Then I won't ask support from anyone.
And I will kidnap Marie!

Oh, poor wretch!

You'll make less than 10 miles until
you'll face the king's sergeants!

Your little lady
will be put in a convent;

as up to you...

What is it?

Monseigneur Robert of Artois.

Providence made
I find you here, Mr. Guccio!

I just wanted to ask your uncle
a safe and skillful messenger

to run until Artois.

Allow me, Monseigneur,
this time not to serve you;

I have my own affairs
which suffer no delay.

But I'll pay you well.

Did you hear?

Your nephew, a Lombard, refuses
100 pounds I didn't offer him yet!

Is it possible that you become
a family without traditions?

My nephew is caught
in a love intrigue.

If it is about women,
I'll forgive him.

Let's talk serious matters.
The messenger.

How about... a monk?

- A monk?
- Italian. Italian.

It's already better.
Oh, Tolomei!

I manage a big blow.

You know my good aunt Mahaut couldn't,
without violating the king's orders,

- leave Paris.
- Yes.

This old sow
still refuses to sign arbitration.

While she splashes in her pool,

I'll put my allies to occupy
her castle of Hesdin,

or rather my castle!

If I can't enjoy what I own,

at least let me cheer up
by pillaging it.

- And it's up to you to sell the pray.
- What do you want to mix me in!

So what? Come what may,
as long as something will come out.

For your monk.

He should give it to Mr. of Fiennes.
And nobody else.

All right.

Ah, young man! Young man, the women!

- Do you know his lover?
- Alas, Mgr., she's a noble.

Probably of his age.

A few years later you'll see she's
as much a whore as all the others.

And much more expensive.

Is she beautiful?

Is she beautiful?

- To die for.
- So much the more!

The pleasure you expect
you can get at 10 sols in a brothel.

And you're happy.

Go to the convent
of Saint Augustin brothers,

and bring me brother Vicenzo, who must
have come yesterday from Perruggia.

- Do you want to marry Marie?
- Sure, uncle!

Well, Mgr. d'Artois
just gave you the means:

he pays you a monk. What else
do you need for a marriage?

To go to Artois...

maybe you can take a detour
through Cressay.

At the end of January,

while Guccio
was secretly marrying Marie,

Louis and Clémence, in order
to fulfill the queen's will,

went to Amiens.

They walked barefoot through mud
on the last part of the road,

and crossed the town singing psalms

to finish with a
long and painful reputation

to the skull known as
belonging to St. John the Baptist.

This pilgrimage had on the King
some curious consequences.

He began to reign
as if he aspired to canonization.

He absolved and amnestied without
choice, happy to empty the prisons.

The point is mine!

- Sire!
- Yes? Is the queen pregnant?

We do not know yet, sir.
Doctors will determine.

But Mgr. of Poitiers
asks you to come at once.

I don't want to be disturbed, right now
I can't keep my mind on affairs.

It's a serious matter, sire.

Mgr. of Poitiers states
that things that will be said

you'll have to listen
with your very ears.

Go on without me, gentlemen!

What is it?

We're assured it's
a dark and gloomy story

of witchcraft.

Couldn't you make the keeper
of the seals himself to resolve it,

without disturbing me
in my concerns?

That's just what I was telling
to your brother.

Brother, the matter
seemed to me important,

not so for witchcraft,
which is a common fact,

but because the witchcraft seems to be
committed even within the conclave,

this conclave which cannot decide
to give you a pope.

This man is called Evrard.

He came 15 days ago to surrender
our people in Lyon

- who sent him to me.
- Who sent him to you.

Evrard said he had
important revelations to make.

He was promised that he would not get
hurt, provided he tells the truth.

I'm listening. Go on.

At Valence, by chance,
he claims,

Evrard supposedly would have
known cardinal Caetani.

The cardinal led him into a room
full of ovens,

retorts and various powders...

All cardinals are
more or less alchemists.

Evrard, Cardinal did not told you
he wanted to destroy all enemies

who wanted to prevent him
from becoming a pope?

And did he promise you
300 pounds to help him?

Answer! The name of the first
of his enemies.

Evrard, you belonged to the Temple,

where you had
the rank of knight.

You were once tortured?

- My foot, Monseigneur.
- We could crush the other too.

Have mercy! Have mercy! Sire!

Have mercy! No more torture! I swear
before God I'll tell you everything!

You don't have to swear! It's a sin!

Evrard!

A Templar came to Flanders,
in our army.

He met Messire Jean de Longwy.

Do you know
Messire Jean de Longwy?

No, monseigneur.

No. I know him only by his name.

I only know he's our
Grand Master's nephew.

Evrard,

or you give us the name
that cardinal told you,

or you'll never walk again.

Monseigneur!

It's the king of France.

And what did he tell you about him?

He told me...

He told me he would really enjoy
seing him passing...

feet first.

Feet first? Well just my death

is this evil cardinal plotting!

- Exactly, brother.
- And how would the cardinal like

to send me away feet first?

- By witchcraft.
- How come?

With a statuette of virgin wax
and a royal crown.

And afterwards?
What did you do with the image?

- Afterwards we put the papers.
- What papers?

The ones with the name of
the person wanted to be charmed.

But I assure you, sir,
I have not written your name.

Let the torturers
torture him good!

We must know all about this plot!

- Mercy! Have mercy! Don't torture me!
- Stop him! Don't let him touch me!

Because of them I denied God!

- Imprison him!
- At Petit-Châtelet!

Ex-Templars seem a puddle
crawling with witches.

Philippe!

All this boiling
comes from that conclave

that crawls from city to city
and dishonors the Christianity.

Wouldn't it be desirable to go
yourself that way?

It seems that you are the only able
to undoing this web of intrigue,

to bring the light
on these criminal maneuvers,

and finally, to haste
a necessary election.

A wise counsel
that you give us, uncle!

Brother, I'd be very grateful
If you accept,

and if you handle personally
this plot.

As soon...
Yes, you must go as soon as possible!

All right, brother. I accept.
To be of service to you.

You're a good brother!

My leg! My leg...

It's cold as ice!
I cannot feel the floor beneath!

So what, brother?
You've got just a cramp, that's all.

Sire, doctors pronounced themselves.

The queen Clémence is pregnant.

What name did you say?

Evrard.

And how this Evrard looks like?

Weak, dark, looking a little crazy,
and lame in one leg.

It's him all right!

- Was he tortured?
- No, he had no time,

he hanged himself this night
in his cell of Petit-Châtelet.

God be praised, he could finish us.

And Louis, what trap
is he preparing for me?

He just named Hugues of Conflans
as governor of Artois.

Conflans! Conflans!
I'm imprisoned in Conflans,

and still Conflans is named governor
to rob my property!

Louis instructed me to tell you that
no longer has he wanted you at the court.

Until you submit his arbitration.

You must obey King's will, Mom.

But my daughter?
Will you take her to Lyon?

No, mother.

No, her state seems
not to allow that.

She's in the third month; it would be
too risky to venture her on bad roads.

I would not even have place for her.

On the contrary, mother, I would
really like that, in my absence,

Jeanne should stay here,
by your side.

You could properly care for her
and you'll be better able to protect.

To tell you all,
you've convinced me last time

and I don't trust
our Cousin Robert's acts.

Oh, cursed king! Ferret!

He confines me in Conflans,
he sends my groom to Lyon

and leave me with my pregnant
daughter, what a good help!

Ah, my enemies work well!
I'm restrained, isolated,

and this king,
that supposedly makes justice,

restores, step by step, his confidence
in the pig of my nephew!

The king's mortal, lady,
like any of us.

Do you believe it? I pray to God
from dawn to dusk

and from evening to morning
to break his neck while riding,

or choke on a hazelnut,
and there is nothing going on!

Maybe we should do more than asking.

Louis is spellbound, as Evrard said,
and he was never healthier!

Like he made a pact with the devil!

If he made a pact with the devil, it
wouldn't be a sin to send him to hell.

Through a convenient prepared food.

Poison the king?

You are not sane!
As creative as bad!

Three times he asks to be tasted
the foods he haves,

that two armed squires
carry from the oven to the table!

He often communicates, as I was told.

And no one tastes the wafer
before Louis.

The chaplain is himself supervised,

and never leaves
the key to the tabernacle.

Not even in the night?

Not even... in the bed?

Not the wafer!

Too bad.

Didn't you tell me that the king
likes to nibble sweet drops?

He will lose his teeth
because of them.

And didn't you recently complain that
deers plunder your forests of Conflans,

eating the young trees?

Madame of Fériennes,
from which I furnish,

wouldn't refuse
to give me the poison

to dip in my arrows
planned for the deers.

And I need so little
for a candy!

- The countess of Poitiers?
- Yes, Madame.

And you say that
Countess Mahaut accompanies her?

I can receive her. The king
forbade her to appear at court.

Tell countess of Poitiers
I would be happy to receive her only.

Go.

Angelina...

No.

Maybe the countess came
to express her agreement

and try to get back in good graces,
without much effort for her pride.

You have to help my husband
to establish peace in the kingdom.

Send them in together.

Madame my sister, I wanted
to ask you to show my mother

that wonderful tissue
you tapestried the walls with

and lately divided your room.

My daughter has so much praised them,
that I wanted to see for myself.

You know, I kind of understand
at that sort of thing.

Such a beautiful thing!

How smooth and soft!

And what colors! What indigo,
what red of Kermes!

It's Arras's style, and yet it seems
that wool sings with more ardor.

This was created by very skilled men.

These are high-weavers
from my country.

I installed them
not far away, for now.

They will continue weaving
for me and for the court.

If you would like to employ them,
or if Jeanne would,

you can have them.

Has the king, your husband, surrounded
himself of these tapestries in images?

No. Louis has not yet
tapestries in his room.

It is true that he sleeps very little.

This means he likes very much
your company, my cousin.

Besides, who would not admire
such a beautiful made human being?

I feared that Louis would alienate
from me because I was pregnant.

Well, not at all.

And we sleep very christianly.

I am glad.

So, he goes on sleeping with you.

What a good husband you have!

Mine, God forgive him,
was not so.

Come on, Jeanne.

Tell your sister-in-law
what you have in mind,

you wanted very much
that she hears it.

Madame, my sister,
would you mind to ask the king

that Philip returns by the time
I'll give birth?

I promise I'll do anything
within my power.

As Marie of Cressay's secret husband,
Guccio moved to Neauphle.

The first floor of the bureau "Tolomei"
nestled tender, but hurried loves.

Some rare moments of happiness were
enough to bring to the young married

what to dream about for weeks.

The wonder of their wedding night
was not denied.

- My love... Already leaving?
- If I want to come back,

I must leave at once...

Your mother, your brothers... when
will you tell them that we're in love?

- That you're my wife?
- Your wife...

Your wife, indeed...

What's with you?

Suddenly you seem less happy.

Of what happens to me,
my dear, you can't defend me.

- What happens to you, then?
- Nothing else

than what is due, through God,
to come to me from you.

A child?

I was afraid to tell you,
I thought you'll love me less.

A child...

A child...

Miracle! It's a miracle!

What, am I a fool? In your state?

I have only a few weeks, you know?

Oh, Marie! Our marriage
will have to come out!

Your family will have to accept!

What should I do?
I don't dare to tell my mother!

- I'll tell her!
- When?

- Right now!
- No! No.

Please wait another week.

A child...

Where are you coming from?

You don't need to talk for I know.
Get undressed.

Mother!

- Undress!
- No!

Will you obey now?
Will you admit your sin?

- I've never sinned!
- And that?

Why did you enlarge your dresses?

Answer!

Yes, I will be a mother. Yes, it's Guccio,
but there's nothing I'd be ashamed of!

- Guccio is my husband!
- Your husband?

Yes. We're married.

You still remember that day? Guccio
came to dinner with an Italian monk.

Well, the next evening,
the monk has married us.

I don't want to hear!
You betrayed us awfully!

A monk! A fake monk,
by all means! A lie!

Have you forgotten that a girl
has no right to dispose of herself?

That she must obey
to her father's will,

accomplished, in the name of your poor
father, by me and your elder brother?

Watch your brothers when they'll
find out! They'll nail your Lombard,

- on the door of his office!
- Guccio is my husband!

A fairy tale! A lying tale!
A pretended marriage.

I'm his wife
until the day of my death.

Do you hear, mother? Until the day of
my death! I'll never say anything else!

A convent is your place to be!

- The monk! The monk!
- What monk? What happened to you?

Fra Vicenzo! Marie is lost
if I can't find him!

- Her brothers are after me!
- Calma! Calma, figlio mio!

The monk, uncle! I need the monk!

He's dead.

- He's dead?
- Yes.

He was killed near Saint-Pol
by Thierry of Hirson's men.

He had on him two messages
from Mgr. of Artois.

And 100 pounds I gave him.

You can see how much costs me
all of that.

What should I do, uncle?

How to prove that Marie
and myself are really married?

Ah, this is not the most important.

- How many are those who follow you?
- The two brothers.

They incited all the village. Luckily,
I managed to jump out the window.

I escaped them as by miracle.
But they're on my ass, uncle!

They are nobles. If they kill you,

In the worst case, they will pay the
fine due for the life of a Lombard,

which is awfully little.

- Figlio mio, better leave.
- But where?

It doesn't matter, no matter where!
Run!

Your beloved brothers-in-law
will eventually arrive.

It may be they alerted
the provost of Paris,

who will send the night guard
to rummage around. Go, go!

What about you, uncle?

Me?
I'll handle your two friends.

Provided they don't handle it with me,
and then you'll not have uncles.

You risk nothing.
They're violent, but noble.

They'll respect your age.

Such a protection, Guccio,
is my white hair!

Go now. I'm running to Mr. Bouville.

Only he is able to ensure your
protection. Go!

Messire of Bouville, tell me...

- My friend, the king...
- What happened to the king?

- Yesterday still doing very well.
- Yes.

And... suddenly, in the queen's
chamber, he bent in two

and began to vomit.

At midnight,
he asked for sacrament.

While yesterday he was drinking
ice water, after playing the ball.

No! Not that! It is too much!

- It's full of blood under him!
- And I, who came to talk

- about my nephew Guccio...
- Yes, poor Guccio...

All that voyage with queen Clémence...

- Who would have thought...
- Yes.

He has great trouble.
He has great need of your help.

Later, my friend. Later.

Two in such a short time!
It's too much!

Poor kingdom!

Sire, I beg you to forgive me for
the trouble I caused you!

I forgive you, cousin,

provided you'll submit
to the power of the king!

Sire, I swear it!

Old sow!

She couldn't pretend it better,
if she's the one who killed him!

- I'll talk to him!
- No, I'll do it!

You will see how should be
treated a Lombard!

If he delivers not
his nephew, I'll kill him!

They are very angry, you say? Search
for them. And bring them here at once.

But, sir they have glimpses
of killers in their eyes!

Don't worry. But I want
everybody here, at once.

- Everybody?
- Everybody. Jacks, grooms,

even the maids.
Come on, hurry up.

- Messire Tolomei! We don't tolerate!
- Neither do us!

I know who you are! Come, come!

You too, friends!
Come in, come in all of you!

Come to find out the terrible news
from the mouth of your master!

Come on, enter!

But what's going on exactly?
Not in front of these people!

Oh, yes! Yes, precisely!

In front of everyone! An evil so
great, everyone needs to know!

- We have to! Are you all here?
- Yes, sir.

- Messire Tolomei!
- I know what I have to do.

My friends, my dear children,

our king,
our beloved king,

just died!

On your knees!

Come on, gentlemen, on your knees!

Let's pray for his soul.

In nomine patris...

(it) Such a good man,
such a generous man!

Alas! Alas! Alas!

The Heaven took him from us!

Alas! Alas!

- It was like a father to us all !
- He was the protector of the humble ones!

Alas! Alas!

Sinners, that's what we are!
poor, incurable sinners! Pray!

Ave Maria, piena di grazia...

You too, young people, pray!
You too will be caught by death!

Repent! Repent!

Holy Mary, Mother of Christ,
pray for us, sinners!

The Lord is with you!
You, blessed among all women,

even the fruit of your womb
is blessed.

Holy Mary,
Mother of God,

pray for us sinners,

now and at the hour of our death,

- Amen!
- Come on, good friends!

Come on, let's clear
this awkward affair,

because, after all,
we have to live,

and the world must continue,
even if some of us is leaving it.

Sit down.

You came talk to me about
my nephew, of course.

Ah, rogue, scoundrel!

Doing this to me, who overwhelmed him
with so much goodness!

Would you do us the grace to tell
where we could find him?

Well, to Sienna!
He went there like a shot!

He escaped my wrath,
as of yours!

Then, poor friends, what to do?

We thought to bring up the matter
before the provost of Paris,

but we changed our mind...
for fear of scandal.

Your poor mother wouldn't survive.

Oh, what a good guys you are!

Without counting that a process,
for the poor men,

risks to add the ruin to the same.

My poor fellows!

And this asshole, that, in six day's
time, would have passed the border!

Remember, I will strive
to repair the damage done to you,

and to your mother,
whom I don't know,

and whose death will be
an offense to God.

I have high relationships;

We'll find your sister a place where
to give birth in the greatest secret:

a convent, for a while,
would be useful to repent,

then we will take care
to make her a situation,

but the important thing is to avoid
at all costs a scandal, isn't it?

- Yes, yes.
- Good.

Well, come back tomorrow.

I think I'm able
to propose you some measures

soothing for your honor.

Go, fellows! Go.

- Thank you, Mr. Tolomei.
- Have faith! Have faith!

And now, provided the king dies!

Madame, the king...

I mean he's g...

I can't believe it!

Tell me it won't happen!

Who could stop it, Madame?

My dear...

That's really mean
to suffer? That's it?

Louis the 10th, the Quarreler, died
the 4th to 5th April 1316,

short after midnight.

Mgr. of Valois, usually so rushed
to fulfill the royal habits,

whether nuptial or funeral,

was not at all interested to bring
last honors to his nephew,

but dealing convene the next day
a council, not to Vincennes,

where such a meeting would have
been necessarily led by queen,

but in Paris,
at the Palais de la Cité.

For the first time after 329 years,

a king of France dies without leaving
a male heir.

We have urgent matters to decide,

which are the election
of two pregnancy curators,

that will ensure in our behalf
the pregnancy of queen Clémence,

and, also,

the required designation
of a regent for the kingdom,

for we cannot interrupt the exercise
of justice and governance.

I'm asking your advice.

We must elect together a regent,

- who then will appoint curators.
- But, brother, give us time to talk,

and do not bind, if possible,
all these things together.

Preparing a regency is one thing that
has precedents in the annals of the kingdom,

and it must be discussed
in the Board of Peers.

Appointment of curators
is something else,

related to close family members,

and we can solve it here,
with the help of the Chancellor.

Do you have any names to suggest?

I think we should choose people
whose past is spotless.

Mature enough that we can
trust in their prudence,

and proven as loyal
and devoted to our kings.

I wish I could give you the name
of the seneschal of Joinville,

but his old age, almost 100 years,
makes him almost crippled.

But I see here Messire of Bouville,

which was great chamberlain
of our brother, king Philippe,

and served him faithfully in all.

In addition, he led in France
queen Clémence,

who seems to be attached to him.

I join with all my heart
this proposal.

It's... a great honor.
A great honor, gentlemen.

I swear to watch over
Madame Clémence's belly

and to protect her
against any attack or attempt,

and to defend her with my life.

If the council agrees, Mr. of Bouville
is appointed pregnancy curator.

Now we can address the issue
of establishing regency...

- But first, gentlemen...
- What is it, Bouville?

First, Monseigneur, I must ask you
to leave the chair you're sitting on,

for that's the king's chair, or yet,
the king is in Madame Clémence's heart.

Good!

The regency problem seems having
to be definitely resolved.

You don't change your hand to the
plow, in the middle of the furrow.

We all know that Charles is the one
that governed in this year

on behalf of our poor Louis,

that we'll accompany on his last road.

He's the elder of the family,

In addition it has 30-year experience
in the service of the king...

Charles, if our brother would have
died while our nephew Louis

were still a child, who would
have the right to be regent?

Unavoidable, me.

Because you were the first brother.

Then isn't our nephew
Philippe de Poitiers entitled

- To occupy the regence?
- Philippe is at the conclave!

Lyon isn't in the land of the Great Khan!
You return from there in a few days.

And I see here only
2 Pairs of the kingdom of 12,

no duchy bishop, no county bishop,

the constable isn't here,
nor the duke of Burgundy.

The Duke of Burgundy! We know
too well what you mean, Aunt!

Have you forgotten that little
Jeanne de Navarre's a bastard?

You know nothing, Robert!

Assumptions are not certainties!

And Marguerite took her secret
to the grave!

Gentlemen, please remember
that we don't deal Louis's succession.

Clémence's baby is a human being too.
And we'll just see if it's a boy or girl.

It's about the regency of the kingdom.

Kindly forgive me
for disturbing the council;

I have something important
to tell you.

Well, talk.

It just happened
something terrible.

While embalming the
late king's body,

a dog... entered the room,
without being seen,

and licked some rags
used to remove the entrails.

Is this your big news?

The trouble is that the dog died.

- Died?
- Yes, Monseigneur,

the pain took it, and began
to groan and empty itself.

- Poison.
- Monseigneur,

if someone wanted
to attempt to the king's life,

is expected to want also
the death of the child to be born.

I ask a guard of six armed squires
at my orders,

day and night, to watch
over the door of the Queen,

and to stop
any foul play.

It will be done
exactly as you required.

I propose to postpone the Board
until tomorrow.

A too greedy dog

installed for long time mistrust
and suspicion in the kingdom.

A few hours later, a horseman
was galloping towards Lyon,

on the shortest route.

Officially, he was taking a message
to the cardinal Duèze,

but the mission also led him
to the Count of Poitiers,

which was supposed to tell him that
it is believed the king was poisoned.

This horseman was Guccio Baglioni.

In this beginning of June 1316,

the destiny of France
was on the roads.

Translated and adapted by
selaflaure (selaflaure@gmail.com)