Original subtitles

Spring.

Hm?

Two more crocuses since yesterday.

Our German spring is a wonderful time.

Spring is always wonderful.

I remember only one bad spring.

1945.

It was beautiful that year.

Exactly.

The perfect weather meant the Allies

would begin their final drive along the Western front.

That year I cursed the birds as they sang in the trees,

and wished I could hold back the blossoms with my hands.

But the snow melted, and the tanks rumbled on.

They had to come.

Hitler was finished, and all the people

close to him, including the ones that we knew at Heidelberg.

Do you remember, Von Baden?

How could I forget?

I was with the White Corps.

I fought with them, drilled with them, drank with them.

Rudolph Cassan was president of the White Corps, wasn't he?

Yes.

He was also a bully and a brute.

The most hated student at all Heidelberg.

En garde.

And one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

You fought a duel for him, didn't you?

Mm-hmm.

For Cassan, of all people.

None of us ever really heard the truth of that story, did we?

No.

I became president in my final year, but my record

could never match Cassan's.

He fought 10 times in his first year,

although freshmen weren't obliged to fight at all.

It was not until the end of your second year

that you needed to have your scar.

He fought 30 times in his second year,

and doubtless he would have fought many more,

if his career hadn't ended so--

so abruptly.

You know that curious English poem, "The Jabberwock"?

Struck down by a vorpal blade?

En garde.

En garde.

En garde.

He was a wizard with a blade.

And with women.

There was one woman he loved, what at least,

when he was with her, he seemed a different person.

Eva.

She worked below, in a bar, in the beer hall.

He'd even spent a weekend with her,

on a raft trip down the river.

Cassan, Cassan, Cassan, Cassan, Cassan, Cassan, Cassan,

Cassan, Cassan, Cassan, Cassan!

A woman! I knew it.

I knew it.

Leave her alone.

She must pay the penalty.

No.

What do you mean, no?

She must strip or be stripped.

Strip her!

No one touches her!

Keep your hands to yourself, or fight me now.

- But it's the rule, Cassan. - Get out!

Come here.

The Red Corps is rubbish.

No!

Cassan, Cassan, Cassan, Cassan, Cassan!

So you were there that night, Von Baden?

I was Cassan's second.

But I hadn't fought yet.

As for Eva, she was the only person

who could bring out the tender, human side of Cassan's nature.

But she was also, let us say, generous with her favors.

Hey, Eva!

Ooh!

Oh, no.

This term, you'll fight, boy.

You must.

That's our only purpose.

We didn't take you into the White Corps

just to drink and have a good time.

I'll fight, when I'm ready.

You're ready now, Von Baden.

You'll fight next week.

It's time you tasted blood.

Your own, if necessary.

Not so soon, no.

I'm your president, boy.

When I say fight, you fight or leave

the White Corps in disgrace.

Hey,

Ooh.

What is this, Eva?

While the cat's away, its mouse likes to play.

No.

Stay where you are.

No, it doesn't mean anything.

Rudolph, I was waiting for you, please.

She waits for anyone in trousers.

Get up.

No.

We've never fought, Cassan.

I think perhaps it's time.

I wouldn't dirty my blade with you.

Young Von Baden will uphold the honor of the White Corps.

Tuesday night. - This?

Well, who's he?

Another of your mice?

I'll slice off his nose, and I'll come after you, Cassan.

You think so?

Any member of the White Corps can take you, Macker.

That will be the final indignity,

to see you grovel in defeat before this boy.

So you had three days to prepare

to fight for your life.

And one, two, three, four, five.

At speed.

Free play.

Bad, could've cut him there, Von Baden.

Continue.

parry, cut, parry, cut.

Use the wrist, not the arm.

Continue.

No, no, no, no.

Macker will murder you, boy.

You left yourself wide open.

Keep the arm up, protecting the right cheek.

Keep the point down at the parries.

Come at me.

Come on.

Agh!

Dead, boy, dead.

I could have opened every vein in your head.

I'm sorry.

The White Corps never apologize, the White Corps win.

Come in.

Whoa!

Well?

The new boy is rubbish.

With Cassan training him?

There isn't time to make anything of him.

Today, tomorrow.

Tuesday you fight.

You needn't lose any sleep, Gunnar.

I may.

I already have.

- That isn't? - But, of course.

Who else?

No! No!

What do you mean?

You like it here, Eva.

You said so.

Sorry I interrupted.

We were just resting between rounds.

Spread the word, Josef.

We'll meet again tomorrow morning, at 8 o' clock.

Get to bed early.

And have an early breakfast, not later than seven,

so that you have time to digest it.

If you think you've sweated today,

boy, just wait until tomorrow.

I did my best to obey him.

I went to bed early.

I didn't sleep for hours.

When at last I did sleep, I had dreamt

I reported the whole business to the police.

Asked them to stop the duel.

But they laughed at me and said, oh, we

know dueling is forbidden, but look at our eyes.

And I looked and the police were blind.

Tch.

It was always like that.

The law was never enforced.

No.

I knew there was no getting out of the duel,

not without disgrace.

But you were really going to fight for another man's

honor, weren't you?

Yes.

Whether I liked it or not, Cassan's honor

had now become mine, too.

But Cassan was a bully and a tyrant.

That was why I slept so badly.

Yes! Good, better.

Whoa.

Whoa, Von Baden.

You've smelt blood, at last.

Good.

Bring out the swords.

Take your sword, Von Baden.

Hah.

So far it's been child's play, hasn't it?

Right, en garde.

But we haven't dressed--

En garde.

Attack.

I could've opened the flap on your cheek there, boy.

So could Macker.

Right.

Get him dressed.

All that day we practiced with the swords.

And on Tuesday--

Did you sleep better that Monday night?

Oh, much better.

You see, I had obtained some chloral hydrate,

which I mixed with a glass of schnapps.

An An old-fashioned cure for insomnia.

Those days were old-fashioned.

Macker!

Yay!

Gentlemen.

The first duel tonight is between Karl Von Baden,

upholding the honor of the White Corps and Gunnar Macker

of the Red Corps.

Which, as we all know, is totally lacking in honor,

and therefore, fittingly represented by Macker.

You.

Come here. - No.

Come here.

Gentlemen of the White Corps, we have an intruder.

Shall she pay the penalty? Assent.

No.

When she was yours, Cassan, you spared her.

Now she's mine.

And you spare her?

You?

She'll watch me win, Cassan.

No, Macker.

No.

Eva shall watch you lose.

Sit down.

No one touch her.

Von Baden.

Get out of that suit.

I'll fight Macker myself.

You cannot, Cassan, it's against our code.

Von Baden fights.

Now who's sweating?

Gentlemen.

En garde.

Fight!

- It's nothing. - Even so.

It's a scratch.

Bring me another sword.

That's enough, doctor, it's not his blade.

His blade hasn't touched me yet.

Right.

En garde.

Distance, gentlemen.

En garde.

Fight!

Stop!

Who's your champion, now?

En garde.

Fight!

Oh!

I've marked you twice, now.

En garde.

Fight!

Agh. Stop.

That's enough.

Stop now, with honor.

No.

No, doctor.

Come on, Macker.

Come on.

Enough, Cassan.

Doctor.

He's dead.

And that was all?

All?

Isn't that enough?

No.

From your account, Cassan lost in a fair fight,

yet he was the best.

Far superior to Macker.

And there were stories, rumors, were there not?

Some even claimed that Macker killed

him with a poisoned sword.

That that was the only way it could have happened.

Yes, some said that.

I heard the stories, too.

We all did.

Murderer.

No, no Eva.

Don't.

Don't.

But it's true.

True.

He poisoned him.

The post-mortem said.

The coroner said.

Murderer.

Come on.

Come away, I beg you.

You inherited Eva?

Ours was a sad love.

But yes, Cassan was poisoned.

That much was proven.

But by that time it was too late to check Macker's sword.

He must've have poisoned his sword.

No sense of honor, at all.

I shouldn't care to have his conscience.

I'd like some service, please.

For the rest of his college days

he lived in disgrace.

Shortly after he left Heidelberg,

he was killed by a train.

So he was guilty.

Now think it through.

Would a man who had poisoned the blade of his sword

before a duel lose much sleep about it afterwards?

He would have had to think it out.

Plan it.

Poisoning is a premeditated crime.

Yes.

And of course, until the last moment,

Macker thought he was fighting you.

Exactly.

Surely the best evidence of all for his innocence.

And after Cassan stepped in and took my place,

Macker never left the center of the room.

He had no chance to poison the blade.

Could the swords have been switched

when they were dropped?

Impossible.

The hilts were white and red, the corps colors.

So, no one could have poisoned Macker's sword

after Cassan entered the duel.

Not with all those eyes watching.

The woman, Eva?

How?

When?

No.

The poison was meant for you.

For me?

Macker had nothing to fear from me.

Then who?

Of course, I should have realized.

The doctor.

He applied the poison while he swabbed

the wounds on Cassan's face.

No.

He had no motive.

He was really Eva's father, avenging his daughter's honor.

He wasn't Eva's father.

And I'm sure, as a doctor, he could have chosen a far safer,

less spectacular method of murder,

if that had been his intention.

Or at the very least, a slower acting poison.

No.

Not the doctor.

Then where are we left?

You?

Fear can be a terrible thing.

But how?

How did you poison Macker's sword?

I didn't.

Then what?

It'll be a pleasure to tell you the truth now,

after so many years, the truth.

Eventually I did fight, I fought bravely and well for the White

Corps, and for Hitler.

I collected my medals and my ribbons.

Men killed for love, for revenge, and in anger.

But fear, fear, my dear Winterluck,

is the greatest motive for murder.

Well, at least I think so.

After all, wasn't it fear that drove us?

We acted under orders, Von Baden.

You mean we feared to disobey them.

No.

Yes.

I was afraid to fight Macker.

Afraid for my face, my life, my honor.

Afraid.

I was terrified.

I coated the blade of my sword with poison,

got from the chemistry laboratory at the same time

as I took the chloral hydrate I needed to make me sleep.

I knew that I could never beat Macker in fair fight.

I had to kill him, or at least sicken

him, so that I could win.

And then Cassan took my sword, and in the first exchange

it broke.

And the end flew back and scratched his forehead.

He said it was nothing but it killed him.

My God.

A foolish thing.

A senseless thing.

Like I said, a vorpal blade.

Exercise is over.

I should be glad to be alone in my cell.

It is ironic.

We are here because they call us war criminals.

We are not.

We are here because we lost.

Think of their crimes.

Let us face the truth, at last.

We are war criminals.

And, yet-- and yet I killed this man

because I was afraid to fight.