All language subtitles for The.Shadow.of.the.Tower.S01E05.en

Ave Maria, gratia plena; Dominus tecum...

♪ Hallelujah ♪

♪ Hallelujah... ♪

- Well, did you see him?
- Yes.

And?

Ah, there's a... gentle look about him.
He's almost kindly.

Have some soup.

Mind you, I don't know
what you were expecting.

- He's only a man, after all, isn't he?
- A heretic.

I see. You were expecting the cloven foot
and the forked tail, were you?

Well, I didn't expect him to look gentle.

You make me laugh.

- You know, it seems so odd.
- What?

Well, to look through that door, and to see
a heretic. I've never seen one before.

Oh, they're a poor lot,
taking 'em by and large.

- Are they dangerous?
- Not when they get here.

Hm.

A heretic.

It must be awful to be like him,
to know you're damned for all eternity.

- Terrifying.
- He might recant.

- Do you think he will?
- He might.

Will he then be spared?

Not this one.
He's been accused before and found guilty.

This time it's the stake.

What makes them do it,
I wonder, heretics?

Well, they're snared,
trapped by the Prince of Darkness.

- Really?
- So they say.

- But, I... I mean, what do they preach?
- Heresy.

Yes, but, er... what in particular?

In particular?

Well, that, I thank the Lord,
I don't know and I hope I never shall.

But...

If I was you,
I wouldn't ask such questions.

Why not?

Heresy is the Devil's own mischief.
The less we know about it, the better.

Yes.

Yes, no doubt you're right.

Oh, I'm right, sure enough,
and I'll tell you this.

I shan't feel safe, shan't sleep sound,

until I see the flames, hear the cries
and know that fellow's burning.

I thank you.

My Lord?

Your prayers have
brought me much comfort.

The comfort springs not from me,
my Lord, but from our Savior.

Nonetheless, I thank you.

My spirit was unaccountably heavy
this morning.

It was as if...

as if a shadow lay across my soul
or I had awakened to some great sadness.

But now that shadow is lifting.

It is God's loving mercy
that strengthens men thus.

Aye, indeed.
King and commoner alike,

we are weak things without
that godly comfort.

And yet there are some
who deny themselves this blessing.

- Fools and heathens only, I think.
- And those deep in heresy.

Heresy? You have dark thoughts
this morning, sir priest.

Forgive me, Majesty.

Why this talk of heresy?

I assumed that you knew.
A man has been brought here.

- When?
- This very day at dawn.

- A heretic?
- Aye, my Lord.

One who opposes the authority
of our Holy Father

and who preaches a most wicked
and corrupting doctrine.

I see.

- What estate of man is he?
- Of the priesthood.

- A Lollard?
- Aye, my Lord.

He follows John Wycliffe's teaching.

- And this is his first known offence?
- No, my Lord, it is not.

- And he is to die?
- At the stake.

From earthly fire to everlasting flames,
unless his soul be saved.

Send for this man.

I would speak with him.

On your feet.

Hm. What?

I said on your feet.

Oh, yes.

Arms out.

- What?
- Together. Arms together.

Now stay steady.

But why are you doing this?

You mind your own business.

But it is my business, surely.

You're going out to be examined.

Oh? Who by?

- What?
- Who is to examine me?

I regret to say they didn't inform me.
Must have been an oversight.

You stay where you are.

All trussed up and ready to go.

Don't do anything foolish.

- Foolish?
- Like loosening them irons.

He wants to scratch himself,
you do it for him.

- Good day to you.
- What?

I thought... well, I should say something.

- Are you ready?
- Yes. Where are you taking me?

You'll find out soon enough.

No doubt.

Were you spying on me earlier on?

Was I what?

I thought I saw you
this morning looking in.

I thought perhaps they
sent you to spy on me.

- For what purpose?
- Oh, that I couldn't say.

But obviously I was wrong.
I see from your face you are an honest man.

Leave us.

All of you.

Come here into the light.

Forgive me, Majesty,
it is difficult to kneel.

I ask you to sit with me, not to kneel.

Thank you, sire.

It is of no importance who I am,
of what estate.

Temporal matters do not concern us here.

In all my life,
I've seen no man in greater danger.

I'm prepared to die, my Lord.

The greatest danger lies beyond the grave.

The torments of hell?

Recant your heresies
and your soul shall be saved.

- May I ask a question?
- Yes, of course.

Then why, sir, are you so concerned
with the progress of my soul?

It is my Christian duty.

Yes, but you have many other duties,
matters of state, matters of government.

Am I more important than these?

I think perhaps you are.

Does that amuse you?

Oh, the... the paradox amuses me,
sire, not your concern.

What paradox?

Well...

had I been a quiet, conforming man,

my life would have passed
without your being aware of my existence.

But now because of my so-called heresies,
you are prepared to wrestle for my soul.

Yes.

They said you were a man of rare
intelligence, persuasive, dangerous.

- Oh, not dangerous, my Lord.
- I wonder.

I have here a list of your
heretical teachings,

or rather a list of heretical beliefs
which you allegedly support.

Yes, it's said that you denounce
all holy images as idolatrous.

You oppose celibacy and vows of chastity.

You regard the blessing of bread, wine
and water and holy vestments as magic

and therefore unchristian.

War, you say, is unchristian and you

denounce all kings
who fight battles.

You question the validity of Holy Mass,

saying that the bread remains just bread
even after consecration.

Prayers for the dead are wrong, you say,
and you would abolish confession.

All this and much more
are you accused of herein.

Does it not appall you
to be named a heretic thus?

- No, my Lord, in truth it does not.
- I cannot believe that.

You have been found guilty
of the most grievous sin imaginable,

a sin against Almighty God himself.

And unless you recant,

you will be condemned to an eternity
of darkness and misery and pain.

- If I am found guilty.
- You've already been found so.

Only by a band of priests, my Lord.
God shall be my final judge.

Oh, now I see the source
from which these heresies spring.

It is arrogance.

You are arrogant enough
to suppose that you

alone can interpret the
word of the Almighty.

- Am I not right?
- Perhaps... in part.

Then I beg you to recant.

Cast off this evil pride and pray for mercy
while you still have life.

It is not pride, my Lord,
but true conviction.

All my beliefs are derived
from Holy Scripture.

It is not God I oppose
but the Church.

And you can separate the one from the other
like a shell from a hazelnut?

Aye, and very easily.

Holy Scripture makes no mention of great
stone palaces with gold and silver plate,

yet look at our cathedrals.

Our Lord lived in poverty, yet look
at the clergy with their fine raiment,

their land, their temporal power.

Far too many priests abuse their position

and corrupt the true meaning
of the Christian faith.

No, it is a simple doctrine that I preach,
my Lord, and no heresy.

I'll be judged as I stand here now,
but I cannot recant.

You seem to forget that the Church
was created by our Savior

to protect and embody true religion.

By attacking the Church,
you attack the very substance of our faith.

I attack what the Church has become,
sire, not what it represents.

You defy the authority of our Holy Father
and His priests and bishops?

- Most certainly I do.
- Then you seek anarchy.

No, sire, I seek simplicity.

Simple faith,
simple observance, simple truth.

Oh,
the Church has become infested with man.

God is scarcely visible.

And you, my Lord, and others like you,
men with power,

do little or nothing to prevent
this corruption from spreading further.

You blame me?

Well, pray you look around,
anywhere, any village.

You'll find the priests fat and well fed,

while the children run
cold and naked with

scarce enough food
to nourish a sparrow.

No man can
persuade me that this is

what our Lord the
carpenter intended.

No, sire, not even a king
can persuade me of that.

Guard!

Remove this heretic.

What...

Who's that? What do you want?

- It's me, the soldier.
- What soldier?

I took you over there
this morning, remember.

You... you thought I was a spy.

Oh, yes, yes, now I see you.
Well, what do you want?

I've, er... I've brought you some wine.

You... you'll get into trouble, lad.

No, no.

It's... it's all right.

That's good of you.

That's very good of you.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

Oh...

I was there this afternoon.

Yes. Yes, I saw you.

Yes. I'd never, er... seen it before.

Didn't know.

- Why did they do it?
- What?

I... I mean to you.

Traitors, yes, I can understand that,
but why you?

Torture the body and save the soul.
That's the idea, I believe.

The heretic recants and God forgives.

- But you didn't.
- No.

- Why not?
- I can't.

- You can't?
- No.

Having come this far, I can't die
dishonestly with a lie on my lips.

Oh, no, no, that wouldn't be right.

Oh.

They, er... they say you worship the Devil.

- Do they? Who are they?
- Some of the lads.

- Oh, yes? Do you believe them?
- I don't know.

They say you do it for women. You worship
the Devil, he provides you with whores.

- As a reward?
- Something like that, yes.

Yes, yes.

- Do you know what a heretic is?
- Course I do.

- What?
- Well, it's, er...

it's someone who goes against God,
isn't it?

- In what way?
- In any way, I think.

Heretic.

The word heretic comes from a Greek verb
which means "to choose".

A heretic is a man who chooses his own way,
his own belief. It's as simple as that.

- Oh.
- You understand?

Not really.

Well, I'll try to explain.

No, no! You... you'd better not.

Are you afraid?

- Afraid?
- Of what I might say.

Yes.

In case I speak with the Devil's tongue?

- Yes.
- Yes.

- Um... have you got a little more wine?
- Oh, yes.

Thank you.

I...

I was ordained a
priest. Did you know that?

Yes, I knew.

For years, several years, I lived quietly
and happily in a country parish.

And then almost by chance,

I became interested in the work
of a man called John Wycliffe.

Now, he was a great preacher,
a very great preacher.

- Did you hear him, then?
- Oh, no, no, no, not I.

No, he lived many years ago
during the time of the Black Death.

Well, he believed... he believed
that the Church had become too worldly.

He wanted priests to live simple,
godly lives

using Holy Scripture
as the source of their inspiration.

Well, gradually, as I... as I thought
more and more about Wycliffe's ideas,

I... I became convinced they were right
and so I became a heretic.

In other words, I chose my own way
to worship and to serve God.

I left the Church and I just

went from village to village,
preaching and praying.

Well, is... is that all?

Mm.

Oh, yes, yes.

No whores, no devil worship.
I am sorry to disappoint you.

I didn't realize.

What?

That you believe in
God like the rest of us.

- I didn't know that.
- Oh, yes.

- Have some more wine.
- Thank you.

So, er... so why have they got you in here?
What have you done wrong?

Well...

my chief crime is to question
the authority of the Church.

You see, I believe that men should turn
to the Bible, not to the Pope,

because that way God's word
is revealed to all men equally.

And then, well, there are other things,
certain mysteries, that I cannot accept.

Well, if this is all, why not recant?

Because it would be wrong for me to do so.

- Wrong?
- Yes, it would be telling a lie.

I don't understand.

What?

If I could save my skin by telling a lie,
I'd do it without a second thought.

Oh, but nothing can save me from the stake.
Whether I recant or not, I am to die.

Oh, yes.

Oh. Oh, yes, I forgot.

Three years ago
when I was condemned to death, I...

I recanted and was spared.

And every day and night since then
I've regretted my weakness.

My fear of dying
for what I believe to be the truth.

No, this time there'll be no second chance.

I must remain firm.

Yes, but suppose...

- What?
- Well, suppose you're wrong.

Suppose you're wrong and you don't recant.

I shall burn forever in the fires of hell.

Wouldn't it be safer to do what they say,
just in case?

- And lie?
- I would.

I can't.

Then you're a brave man.

Aye, or a fool.

Go now. You'd best go.

I'm most grateful for your kindness
and the wine.

God send you good rest.

Amen to that.

Oh, Lord.

Lord, comfort me, I pray.

Give me strength.

Give me courage.

Give me hope.

What news of this man, the heretic?

News, my Lord?

- Was he not put to the rack?
- He was.

- And were you present?
- I was, sir.

Well?

He remained obdurate.

Silent. Stubborn.

Even when the machine stretched his limbs
to breaking point, he would not recant.

It is very strange,

that he should cling so tenaciously,
so bravely, to these false beliefs.

Satan gives him strength, my Lord.

- Surely it is a strength we can overcome.
- Perhaps.

Only perhaps?

We can do nothing
without God's good grace.

- Have you prayed for guidance?
- I have.

Continue these prayers
throughout the day.

I will, sire.

This man has haunted my thoughts,
waking and sleeping.

I cannot thrust him from my mind.

You fear magic, my Lord?

No, no, no, this is within me.

A sense of regard.

Almost of affection.

Hm.

A bond between us.

Does that alarm you, sir priest?

It is not wise to seek
company with a heretic.

No.

He is still a child of God, is he not?

Corrupted, I suspect, beyond redemption.

A blasphemer,
a child of doubt and darkness.

Tell me, have you never in all of your life
questioned your beliefs?

- Have you never doubted?
- No, my Lord, I have not.

No, nor will not from now unto your grave.

And I thank God
for the strength of my faith.

Quite right, quite right.

When is the heretic to be burned?

Tomorrow, sir, at dawn.

Very well. I shall
speak to him this morning.

Alone, my Lord?

Alone.

Send him to me at 11 o'clock.

It's a waste of time, if you ask me.

- Why?
- He's been found guilty, hasn't he?

Twice.

He may still recant.

No,
not this one. You can see it in his face.

- See what?
- A mark of the Devil.

Those eyes are not the eyes
of a God-fearing man.

Burn him, I say.

Get on with it and stop
all this waste of time.

- I think you're afraid of him.
- You're right, I am.

So would you be if you had any sense.

- What would you say...
- What?

What would you say
if I told you I'd spoken to him?

You haven't, have you?
God have mercy. What did he say?

All kinds of things.
He said he'd been a priest.

He still prays to God, you know,
not the Devil.

- I quite liked him.
- Oh, God have mercy.

Well, there's no harm
in talking to him, is there?

- No harm? What do you mean, no harm?
- Well, is there?

How else do you suppose
that Satan gets his followers?

I don't understand.

Dear saints above!

Were you born this stupid
or did you learn it later?

- I'm sorry.
- What made you do such a foolish thing?

I don't know.

Can't you see that the only reason
that you found him pleasant

is because he was play-acting?

Trying to get you on his side.

On his side?

It's like a disease, contagious,
spreading from man to man.

What?

The Devil's alchemy.

Stop your ears to it, boy.
Keep yourself to yourself.

So, what he told me,
what he said, that was all lies?

Course it was.

It's what heresy is, lies.

Untruths. Blasphemy.

He said it meant...

- What?
- Choosing your own way.

- What?
- Heresy. He said it was Greek.

Huh! Well, there you are.
You believe that, you believe anything.

I did believe him.

You're young, you'll learn.

I dismissed you harshly yesterday.
It was discourteous of me.

It is your privilege to dismiss me
in whatever manner you choose, Majesty.

Privilege does not excuse discourtesy.

Please.

Thank you, sire.

It occurred to me

that you might be interested to know why
I wished to see you yesterday morning.

I supposed you wished to save my soul.

Well, principally, it was curiosity.

How so, my Lord?

I had been at prayer and suddenly the idea
of being outside the Church intrigued me,

frightened me.

And I was curious to know
what kind of a man was strong enough

to do without the comfort
that I had just received.

- And were you disappointed?
- No, no, no.

I find you a man
of rare and absorbing interest.

Thank you, my Lord.

So tell me, are you strong enough
to live without the Church?

I am strong enough to live without priests.

And for comfort, for spiritual aid?

I look to God and within myself, but I need
no priests to tell me of God's mercy.

They say you endured
much pain on the rack.

Yes.

- And that you would not recant.
- No.

These heresies which you support,
are they really worth such suffering?

The pain tends to strengthen one's belief,
I find.

The more one sacrifices,
the less likely one is to surrender.

Yes, I can understand that.

What sort of a man are you?

You're gently bred.
From the town or the country?

Oh, from the country, my Lord.

We're a farming family
with land near Bristol.

Yes,
it... it was my love of the country, I

think,
that first drew me from the Church.

How so?

Can you explain?

Well, all of my life
I've found God in simple things.

Our Lord was a peasant after all.

And I believe one comes closest to God
through simplicity.

When I became a priest I devoted myself
to many hours of theological study.

It filled my life.

Indeed, I gained something of a reputation
for learning and scholarship.

But then one day I found I'd...

lost sight of God.

I returned to my father's house
ill and distressed,

and for days, weeks, I just walked
and roamed the countryside.

And as I rediscovered the simple beauty
of the hedgerows, so I rediscovered God.

And from then on, my life changed.

Yes, I see.

- Do you understand?
- Yes, I do.

What's more, I think I understand
why you are what you are.

Now, just let me refer
to those papers once again.

Yes, you say that enforced celibacy
and vows of chastity should be abandoned.

Why do you say that?

Because I believe
such vows to be unnatural.

Mankind was not created for celibacy.

Mm-hm.

And you oppose the confession of sins.

Well, the danger is pride, my Lord.

The forgiveness of a man's
sins is a godly function,

and priests are but men.

It's foolish to tempt a man's pride thus.

And you deny that the consecrated bread
becomes the body of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Well, I believe our Lord is
present among us

when we say Mass

but it's unreasonable to suppose
that bread becomes flesh.

Bread is bread and remains so at all times.

Good, excellent.

What, you approve, my Lord?

I perceive a single thread running
through all your argument and dissent.

- Which is?
- Reason. Common sense.

- My Lord?
- You find God in nature.

You seek simplicity.

You prefer the company of peasants
to the conversation of scholars.

You oppose celibacy,
because you find it unnatural.

The idea of bread becoming flesh
seems to you unreasonable,

and you'd put an end to confession,

because you know that priests,
being but men,

must be full of weakness and foolish pride.

Therein lies the root of your heresy.

In reason?

In the denial of mystery.

Forgive me, sire,
but I see no logic in your argument.

Then look for none. Accept.

- Accept?
- That I was right all along.

It is your arrogance
that has turned you away from the Church.

- If I am arrogant, sir...
- No, let me finish.

You believe that you can understand
the workings of God.

You believe that by humble simplicity,
you can grasp the eternal truth.

By believing that, you ignore
the prodigious mystery, the immensity,

the unimaginable infinity
of Almighty God and His creation.

You try to make God like yourself
and that, surely, is heretical.

Well, I could accept what you say if I
believed myself to be above my fellow man,

to be endowed
with some superior understanding,

but in truth I do not.

You question the teaching of Holy Church.

I question the interpretations of man,
not the word of God.

- But you yourself interpret.
- But only because I believe that...

Yes?

Yes, yes, yes. I'm trapped.

Yes, I criticize others for doing
what I myself would do.

You admit this,
therefore admit your heresy.

No, my Lord!

The essential truth of my belief remains.

God's word has become corrupted
by pomp and ceremony

and there must be a return to simple faith
and simple understanding.

Are you prepared to die without the
blessings and the comfort of the Church?

To give your soul to the Devil
for all eternity?

I am prepared to throw myself
on God's great mercy.

Oh, if only you would recant.

I am but one man,
one life, one soul,

a thing of small importance,
soon forgotten.

I shall remember you.

You are most gracious, my Lord.

When is it to be, the burning?

Tomorrow morning at first light.

Then it'll soon be over.

In youthful dreams of the future,
I never foresaw the stake.

Why not bring comfort to these last hours?

Recant, and let the Church
embrace you once again.

That is unfair, my Lord.
You play upon my fears.

No man need fear,
who dies in God's good grace.

No, by this time tomorrow,
my body will be burned away.

If I recant now through fear, I shall have
died for nothing and that I cannot do.

There is a
profound irony in this.

How so, my Lord?

That you, by your pursuit of reasonable
truth and simple understanding,

should now face God's greatest mystery.

What more unanswerable question
is there than death?

It is beyond reason.

Beyond all understanding.

Go now,

and prepare yourself

for your journey.

He has chosen not to recant.

As I thought,
the man is possessed by Satan.

He will die a heretic.

Nevertheless, there is some good in him.

- Good, my Lord?
- I believe so, yes.

It's not possible.

Must a man be all good or all bad?

- This man is a heretic.
- And you are a priest.

Are you therefore quite free from sin,
good, pure, without stain or blemish?

- That is a different matter, my Lord.
- I think not.

I want you to go now and pray for his soul.

For the soul of a heretic?

He is a man, and he shares with us
a common humanity.

Go now. Leave me.

The next time...

the next time I see the sun...

will be my last.

- You're back early.
- I've just been told.

What?

- What's the matter?
- Tomorrow morning.

- I must be there.
- Oh.

I've been given orders.

I must help at... at the fire.

I keep forgetting how young you are.

What shall I do?

You've had your orders.
There's nothing you can do.

Yes, but I shall see him burn.

Well, it's not as bad as you imagine.

You can't see much because of the smoke.
The smell's the worst part of it.

Block up your nose. You'll be all right.

- Does it take long?
- No.

They burn well, heretics.

Ha.

Here, have a drink.

It's good wine. It'll put heart into you.

No, no, no, take it away.

I want nothing.

You know, it's not that I'm afraid
to see a man die.

No, no, no. Of course not.

But I liked him, you see.
That's the trouble.

Now, you keep quiet about that,
young fellow.

It won't do you any good,
you know.

And now I shall see him burn.

It's all they're fit for.

Devil worshippers.

He was a priest.

Burn on earth,

and burn in hell.

- You, you there.
- Sir?

- Is everything made ready?
- It is, sir, yes.

Ah, you're sure the wood's
been packed high around the stake?

He'll burn like a torch,
sir. Have no fear.

Good.

Hm.

Oh, God.

Have mercy on me.

Forgive my sins.

Have mercy, I pray, have mercy.

No.

My prayers are not heard.

I am alone.

Suppose you're wrong.

Suppose you're wrong and don't recant.

No.

I shall burn forever
in the fires of hell.

No!

Does it not appall you
to be named a heretic thus?

I am no heretic!

They say you worship the Devil.

No man need fear,
who dies in God's good grace.

Oh, have mercy! Oh, God have mercy!

Recant, and let the Church
embrace you once again.

Wouldn't it be safer
to do what they say?

I shall have died for nothing.

- Wouldn't it be safer...
- I can't recant!

It would be a lie!

In youthful
dreams of the future,

I never foresaw the stake.

- So, you're going to become a priest?
- Yes, sir.

- And one day a bishop?
- If I can, sir.

- And one day the Pope?
- Yes, sir, if they ask me.

Help... help me, Father.

Help me.

Old John from the valley farm.

Hold... hold my hand.

Say... say a prayer.

A hand so cold and stiff and rough.

I... I'm afraid, Father.

- Scared of dying.
- And so are we all.

Aye.

Go now and
prepare for your journey.

No!

Nothing can save me
from the stake.

Why not admit your heresy?

If this is all, why not recant?

Recant,
and let the Church embrace you.

I can't! I can't!

Suppose you're wrong.

Yes, suppose I am wrong.

Suppose you're wrong
and you don't recant.

Suppose I'm wrong!

- Suppose you're wrong and don't recant.
- Suppose I'm wrong and don't recant.

- Suppose...
- Suppose!

Guard!

Guard!

Guard!

Come.

My Lord, he recants.

God of grace.

- What's this?
- I was ordered to...

- What?
- I'm to make sure you're ready.

Ah.

Yes. Yes, yes, I'm ready.

- I've recanted my heresies.
- Yes, they told me.

- Are you pleased?
- Should I be?

A sinner has returned to God.
You should rejoice.

It saddens me.

- Saddens you?
- I thought you'd hold out.

- What for?
- Your beliefs.

Do you suppose they're
wrong or misguided?

They made sense to me.

- They seemed reasonable?
- Yes.

Yes, well, reason can sometimes
assume too great an importance.

I can't see how.

It can obscure mystery, poetry,
all those unanswerable questions.

- God and His creation are above reason.
- Maybe.

- Well, then, what's the matter?
- You don't believe it!

You're just making excuses.

I'm frightened
I may have been wrong all along...

and in fear,

we need the comfort of the Church,
not the serpent of reason.

Do you understand?

Aye.

I'm on duty.

Oh?

That means I'll...
I'll be out there too.

Oh.

- Aye, I tried to get off.
- But you couldn't.

- No.
- Mm.

No, they say it's good experience.

- What for?
- I don't know.

If... if you can, try to light the wood
at the top of the pile.

- At the top?
- Yes.

Otherwise the flames have to creep up
and it takes longer.

Yes.

Well, I'd... I'd better report back now,
though. They'll send you a priest.

Thank you.

God bless you.

I'll do what I can to make it quick.

Now.

God have mercy.

Well, my friend.

What is the answer?