All language subtitles for Renegade.Nell.S01E03.720p.DSNP.WEB-DL.DD5.1.Atmos.H.264-playWEB_eng

She murdered my father!

You saw what happened.

- Who did it?
- She did.

There's evil in the ether, Nelly Jackson.

In a good world, I'd find a magistrate
who might listen to the truth.

But in the real world,
that's not gonna happen.

So here's an idea.

You and me should team up, Nelly Jackson.

Let's pretend
to be Lord and Lady So-and-So.

Why do you live like this
if you're a toff in real life?

My old man liked
the gambling tables too much.

If anybody can find
your father's killer, it's Jarrold.

I've no idea
who this Lord Shankley might be,

but the description of the four others
fits perfectly, including your runaway.

She fights like
a demon with the strength of 10 men.

It's going to take
more than mere mortals to capture her.

'Tis an invitation to go playing cards
with Lord and Lady Springbourne.

There are more things in this world
than most people ever begin to imagine.

I'm thinking this is a mistake,
Nelly Jackson.

Like must be fought with like.

And what takes you to London,
Lady Shankley?

I'm thinking
we should be turning on our heels

and getting out of here, Nelly Jackson.

Pleasure. Pure pleasure.
My wife adores the theater.

- Does she?
- Ah.

- Whose work do you favor, Lady Shankley?
- Oh, gosh.

It's just something
I can't put a finger on.

All of them. She likes all of them.

- And the... the opera?
- Ah!

She couldn't choose one above another.

They're all so...

So...

So witty.

- Oh!
- Amusing. Delightful! Hilarious.

Exhilarating.

- Provocative?
- Ooh.

- Complex. Dark.
- Ooh.

Well said. Well said, Lady Shankley.

- We like the Scarlatti.
- Oh.

I got chills, Nelly.

I'm telling you.

Come on.

Do you play, Lady Shankley?

All is not well, Nelly Jackson,
and you need to get out of here.

- Like an angel.
- Oh!

Perhaps after cards,

she can be persuaded
to tickle your ivories, Lady Springbourne.

Oh, if only I hadn't broke my wrist.

- Oh, no.
- Yes. Last season.

- But still, it is not yet quite right.
- Oh, what a shame.

Make some excuses and leave.

Well, then,
perhaps you can be persuaded to sing?

Go powder your nose.

Oh, you sing?

Like a nightingale.

His lordship flatters me too far,
Mrs. Oakum.

You'd be better entertained
by his soliloquy from Hamlet.

I adore the Bard.

Oh, we shall look forward to it
after cards.

Don't see you making tracks.

It's a rotten time to be traveling
up to London, Shankley.

Eh, have you heard the latest?

Oh, the, the roads get more and more
dangerous every day in this latest.

A highwaywoman.

Unnatural creature.

The same fiend that
murdered that poor fellow in Tottenham.

- No!
- So they say.

She's said to be armed
and extremely dangerous

and isn't to be approached at any cost.

Apparently, too,
she is so hideous to behold

that merely looking into her eyes
will turn the hardest fellow

into a quivering jelly

and make him vomit.

Just run.

Can I ask you a question,
Lord Springbourne?

Mm-hmm.

You must be the local magistrate
around here.

Yes. Yes, I am. Yes.

If this unnatural creature,
this Nell Jackson,

wasn't guilty of what they're saying
she's guilty of, just if,

how might you go about proving that
to anybody?

I'm sorry. You'll have to repeat that.
I didn't quite take it in.

That's her!

This could have been avoided.

Don't move.

You murdered my father.

You're something special, you are,
ain't you?

Right?

You liar.

Oo-er missus.

Oh!

Psst!

Nelly. Nelly!

Wake up! Wake up!

Lady Shankley, shall we?

After them.

Poynton?

Rasselas!

Some men came this way with Lady Sofia.

- I know, I know, they went in there, but--
- Get in the carriage!

Get in the carriage, now!

No, Dev, you take the horse!

Hey!

- Let's split them up.
- What did you say?

Hyah! Hyah!

Take the carriage!
I'll take him!

Where's Devereux?

Tosser. He's saving his own skin.

- Hyah! Hyah!
- Nelly!

Yeah.

Hyah! Hyah!

Hyah! Hyah!

Hyah! Hyah! Hyah!

Move, move! Hyah!

Take it.

What are you doing?

Come on.

George.

- Where are we going?
- Don't know.

- Anywhere.
- Nell!

Nelly! Nelly! Nelly! George's been shot!

What?

Hyah! Hyah! Hyah! Hyah!

- You say?
- See...

Mr. Dawson's hanky is
at the card table, the blue one.

Another time, I'm sure.

Where's Nell Jackson?

My men are still in pursuit.

But we got her accomplice.

- Do you know him?
- Oh, yes.

Isambard Tulley.

Hyah!

All this rocking about is upsetting her.

We need as much distance
between us and them as we can get.

Am I gonna die?

No.

Nelly.

Why have we stopped?

You might wanna see this.

It's a plague village.

Yeah.

Look at this.

It's just all rotted,

just where it was left.

Do you think
we're the first people

who's ever been here, since...

Let's get George inside.

And we'll see
if there's any fresh water down that well.

Here, it's brandy.

From a fishing fellow.

It's good. I had a nip.

- What do you want me to do with this?
- Mm.

- Boil it.
- And then what?

Then...

We're gonna scrub this table clean.

We're gonna lift her onto it,
and then I'm gonna get that bullet out.

- How?
- I've seen it done.

- Yeah. How?
- Have a nip of this, littlun. Go on.

That's it.

- I don't like it.
- I know.

But it will take the pain off.

- Not all of it.
- It will help.

She needs a proper surgeon.

She needs someone
who knows what they're doing.

- I know what I'm doing.
- You don't know nothing!

You're the big noodle
that got us into this fix.

Yeah? Well, I'm the big noo--

noodle that's gonna get us out of it.

This ain't no good for George,
all this shouting.

I'm all right. Thanks, Mr. Rasselas.

Yeah. I've told you before.

Seen more bullet wounds
than you've had hot dinners.

Yeah, but you ain't fixed them.

I have. I've helped.

Well, I've observed.

Look, this is nothing.

Well, now I know it don't feel
like nothing to you, George,

but, seriously,
there ain't no vital organs up there.

All your kidneys, lungs,
livers, bowels, soul, and such.

Much farther south.
It's just muscle and sinew.

It's just a case
of jiggling the thing out...

and letting it heal.

Yeah?

I'm starving.

Ah. At last.

Two intelligent men.

Would you like to step this way?

- Yes, thing is--
- Have you gathered your belongings?

I'm not, now...

Yes. Thank you.

Not that we'll be long.

It's just they're all a little
light-fingered in there.

- So, do mind your step, sir.
- Let me out! Let me out!

Where are we going?

Ah, just popping across the road.

Just five minutes with the magistrate.

Just a nice little arraignment.

So, so that's the thing.

- You see, I'm not Isambard Tulley.
- Oh, I see.

Yes, I am a gentleman.

This is all very unfortunate,
inconvenient and unnecessary.

"On August the 15th, 1703,
on Hounslow Heath,

at or around half past 6:00
in the evening,

you did commit highway robbery
with menaces and grievous bodily harm.

On September 23rd, 1703,
at Tottenham Fields,

at or around 1:00 o'clock
in the afternoon,

you did commit highway robbery
with menaces.

On September the 27th, 1703,
at Hackney Wick,

at or around 7:00 o'clock in the morning,

you did commit highway robbery
with menaces and grievous bodily harm.

On October the 12th, 1703,
at Pudding Lane..."

Do you want the bad news?

I believe you've suffered
a fit of apoplexy,

and what's happened to you
is likely to be irreversible.

The good news is
that you can retire from public life,

embrace retirement, and spend your days
doing whatever you want.

I'm not ready for that.

It's not a death sentence, Poynton.

It could have been a lot worse, hmm?

Enjoy yourself.

Makes your ears bleed.

What's more extraordinary
is this woman, Nell Jackson,

is a supernatural woman.

Supernatural?

She is a woman, an incredible one at that.

Nothing but rumor.

Still, she likes to be kept abreast
of these things.

We mustn't tell her.

We must tell her.

She'll find out anyway.

And then she'll worry all the more
that we kept it from her.

Her Majesty, The Queen.

His Royal Highness, Prince George.

Morning, my lords.

Good morning, Your Majesty.

Morning.

- Harley.
- Your Majesty.

Godolphin.

Your Majesty.

The Earl of Poynton's secretary
sends his apologies, Your Majesty.

He suffered a seizure
yesterday afternoon

and is still incapacitated.

Oh.

Oh, well, we are sorry to hear it.

Has Your Majesty heard the news?

Oh, Isambard Tulley, well, yes.

It's all anyone's talking about.

Something to take the mind of the people
off the war for five minutes.

And the alleged reported sighting
of Herne the Hunter.

Alleged. Unconfirmed.

And really,
when we face such a grave threat

from our enemies on the continent--

And Jacobites. Lest we forget.

Need we then concern ourselves
with superstitious nonsense such as this?

When was this?

Yesterday afternoon.

Also in Slough, where Tulley was arrested.

You know, Godolphin,
that when Herne the Hunter is seen,

it heralds the death of a monarch.

As I say, Majesty,
all gossip and superstition.

We are men of statement,
of reason.

It's beneath our purview.

Also in Slough?

Word has it, Majesty, that the beast
appeared at Widdicombe Manor,

The seat of Lord Springbourne,
and was slaughtered, beheaded,

by Nell Jackson, the highwaywoman,
Nell Jackson.

And then the thing turned
to dust

before the eyes
of the entire assembled company.

Turned to dust? Beheaded?

Ah, so it is no more?

What's possibly more concerning
is how it ever came back to life.

Apparently,
it was 10-feet tall.

- Twelve!
- Fifteen.

And on a horse
of even more monstrous proportions.

My goodness me.

It has all the hallmarks of a fairytale.

Forewarned, Majesty is forearmed.

Fifteen feet tall,

and this Nell Jackson,
this highwaywoman beheaded it?

She is, by all accounts, formidable.

She murdered Lord Blancheford.

Yes, we know who she is, Nottingham.

Or at least we know
what she is accused of.

We listen to gossip.
Same as everyone else.

Well, if it was beheaded,
then turned to dust,

there'll be no more sightings of it.

It appears this Nell Jackson
has done us great service.

Perhaps we should pardon her
and add her to our bodyguard.

Godolphin?

She murdered a peer of the realm,
Your Majesty.

That would be out of the question.

Well...

Well, if the thing is dust,

then we shall endeavor
to put it out of our head. Hmm.

"At Saint Margaret's Hill in Suffolk,

at or around 1:00 o'clock
in the afternoon,

you did commit highway robbery
with menaces and grievous bodily harm.

On August the 5th, 1705,
in the Balls Pond Road, Islington,

at or around 11:00 at night...

...you did commit highway robbery
with menaces."

Prisoner at the bar,

how do you plead to this tawdry litany
of shameful misconduct?

I am not Isambard Tulley!

- I am--
- Well, then, sir, how do you plead?

Well, not guilty, obviously.

So we must set a trial date.

Take him down.

I should like to apply for bail!

No bail at any price.

- That's not fair!
- Coming through.

I don't wanna die in there, really.
I'll starve.

I'll suffocate.

I have done nothing wrong!

I am a gentleman!

Oh.

Thank you.

Wait, what was that?

Me.

Was that you?

No.

Billy.

Billy Blind, Bill.

Oh, Billy.

I wish I could help.

Can't you?

You need to get her to a physician.

Like Roxy said.

Why is this happening?

Rasselas.

Or an omelet?
Not with a turkey neck, though.

- Oh, we've found a cow. I milked it.
- And look.

Where did you get them?

Just here and there.

Did you see anyone? Did anyone see you?

No, nothing.

George just got a fever.

She's burning up.

I need to get her
to a physician, person, bloke,

or I need to get a physician, person,

bloke to her more like
because I don't wanna move her.

But I thought you said
once you got the bullet out--

Yeah, I know,
but maybe I didn't get it out

fast enough or something.

We need to drive to the nearest big place
and find someone.

- Me and Rasselas in the carriage.
- Yes.

And we'll kidnap him, whoever he is,
and bring him here if we have to.

- What?
- You ain't leaving me here on my own.

I'm getting mighty pig sick
of this lame attitude.

Do my hair. I have to pass for quality.

And don't go lugging me
just because you're in a stinky mood.

Hey.

Lady Sofia Wilmot.

Show her in.

Poynton.

Was that you yesterday?

Yes.

Yes, it was.

How?

She severed your...

Its head.

I was terrified you might be dead.

Was that what it was?

Then you're lucky I'm still here.

How did you do it,
and why Herne the Hunter?

It was Herne the Hunter.

Mm.

Uh, a private joke with the Queen,

no less.

What's happened to you?

Nothing.

I'm all right.

I've never felt more alive.

You don't look well.

I'll recover.

I'm as strong as a horse.

She escaped.

She was powerful.

Who is she?

No one.

A tenant's daughter.

Really?

So, how did she gain such power?

So uneducated. So ordinary.

And yet to control it all so skillfully.

How did you do it?

Ah...

I dabble in things.

Things that most people are frightened of.

I'm not frightened of anything.

What is going on?

I... I don't know any more than you do--

Right. Well, what I know

is everything was fine
until you popped up and my dad's dead.

My little sisters, they have got no home.

I am on the run
for murdering a toff.

I've got, what?
A whole army of men after me.

A massive big bloke on a giant horse
tries to kill me.

And now...

George has been shot.

It's all my fault.

That's all I know.

Don't cry, Nelly. We'll work it out.

How?

I mean, why are you here?

Normal people, they don't have a...

Whatever you are.

So why do I?

Hmm.

Well, maybe they do.

Well, they ain't kicking people
quite so hard on the pants the way I am.

Yes. Good point.

Well, I must be here for a reason.

Only, what is it?

I know you don't know the reason,
but what do you think the reason might be?

- I ain't paid to think.
- Right.

But if you were paid to think,
who would it be paying you?

Um...

No.

- It... Yeah.
- I thought I nearly had it there,

but it's gone, just slipped
through my fingers, my mental fingers.

The thing is, I'm not a bad person.

So how come I've ended up so far
on the wrong side of the law?

But with this pixie you thing?

Well, maybe when someone like you
ends up on the wrong side of the law,

it's because there's something wrong
with the law.

Yeah, well, we knew that.

Yeah, and maybe me and you
was supposed to, I don't know,

do some disruption to redress the balance.

Hmm.

I suspect, one day, it will become clear,
as these things do.

Yeah, but these things.

What things?

Who is he even?

The massive bloke on the horse?

Oh, I think that was Herne the Hunter.

- Who?
- Herne the Hunter.

Antlers, chains.
You know, it's a, a thing.

I don't know.

I don't know the littlest thing about him.

When Herne rides again,
it heralds the death of the monarch.

What monarch? Our monarch?

Brandy Nan?

She likes the tipple.

I'm reliably informed,
just as Her Majesty.

I'm beginning to wonder

if you're not destined
for very great things, Nelly Jackson.

I'm beginning to wonder

if you've been sent to the planet
for something special.