All language subtitles for The.Shadow.of.the.Tower.S01E06.en

Entrez.

- Master Ratcliffe.
- Ah, Clifford.

- You're to England tonight?
- Yes, to London.

I envy you.

The future of England is here
in the Court of Burgundy, Clifford.

In the person of Prince Richard of York.

The French lad.

You don't think him the real heir?

He will do.

He has given me some messages
for you to take to London.

To whom?

Enough of the faction
to unbolt doors when he arrives.

Hussey... the Archdeacon.

The Dean of Paul's. Mountford. Daubenay.

- Which Daubenay?
- William.

And... Sir William Stanley.

- Lord Thomas's brother?
- Aye.

But he's one of Henry's pillars,
close to the King,

- chamberlain to the royal court.
- I know.

- Yet I'm to deliver this?
- As the rest. Carefully.

And myself, perhaps,
into the iron hand of the King?

Sir William Stanley is a man of York.

We have some proof that,
under his court robes and his subtle way,

he may not be inclined to...
hinder the French lad.

He's a secret and a preening man,
and yet...

- Hussey will tell you best.
- I'll have my servants pack.

They've set up an old stag in the royal
park that'll not run straight for him.

- Archdeacon Hussey.
- Ah, Master Ratcliffe.

Tell me, where is Sir William Stanley?

- Over there, standing by the bailey door.
- I would speak to him.

He attends the King.

All this show and pomp are in his hands -

what is not ordered by the old lady,
the King's mother.

- When was the royal child dubbed?
- Prince Henry?

This morning in St. John's Chapel,
whilst you were on the road from Calais.

So, the Noble Order of the Bath
has a three-year-old prince admitted?

The second, who is named, too,
Lord Lieutenant of Ireland.

Well, there's a boggy title
for a king's second son.

But do you not see?
His elder is Prince of Wales

and now the whole kingdom
is royalled over by Tudor stock.

And yet the people cheer.

The people have
an infinite capacity for cheering.

But er... how do the Stanleys
buckle to all this?

Lord Thomas, his brother,
is as discreet as a dead owl.

Besides, the old lady, his wife,
carries his fortune with hers.

Being the King's father-in-law by marriage,

he is well sheltered
and knows when he is snug.

- But Sir William there...
- Is our friend.

I hope so.
Though he's an ambiguous man.

Ah, how is the tilting?

You could do better in your priestly robes,
riding a gravestone.

- Are no lances shivered?
- Oh, lances are shivered.

Their targets are so clothed in metal

you could batter on them with a beam
without waking the man inside.

They ride as if asleep.
Only the horses sweat.

- That is not jousting. Why, in my...
- But the crowd roar.

Because the King fills them with drink,
though not at his expense.

In my young days, jousting was
a man's sport, an exercise for knights.

What's this realm come to?
There's no nobility left.

That is our subject.
We are all of the same mind.

Ah, yes. Who will lead armies?

Why, women will be doing it next,
with bladders mounted on courtiers.

In good King Edward's time,
the courtiers were mounted on women.

And now we're ridden by tradesmen
and led by clerks.

No offence, Reverend Archdeacon.

No offence under God.

Master Ratcliffe here
has messages from Robert Clifford.

- Oh.
- Privately, from Flanders.

- The Earl of Essex...
- For Sir William Stanley there.

The Earl of Essex had a
pavilion like a hill, all green and...

Sir Simon, I think it best
I speak to Sir William alone.

- To whom?
- Sir William Stanley.

Ah, the chamberlain.

We have messages for you,
through Clifford, from the French lad.

I'll not intrigue.

- Ratcliffe has brought a letter.
- I'll not take it.

No, but you will listen.

Here comes the King.

Our lady Mother,
there are new entertainments?

All has been arranged by
Sir William Stanley here.

Will you go in?
We have some words to speak.

Poynings, Bray, Oxford.
Where is our cardinal? Ah.

- Sir Edward, you are set for Ireland?
- Yes, Your Grace. I am weather-proofed.

And rebel-proofed, too, I hope.

You will have 400 men.
First, subdue the great Earl of Kildare.

Our younger son now governs Ireland.

You will administer in Prince Henry's name
and he in ours.

Yes, my Lord.

We must bring our peace to Ireland
and our trade to Europe.

We'll make a fair mark
of these islands in the world.

Your Grace will not arm
an expedition to France, then?

My Lord of Derby, we have done with wars.

Woolen cloth, treaties and marriage,
these are our regiments in the new world.

And you'll not unseat the pretender,
Richard of York?

- His name is Warbeck.
- Yet many think him that Prince Richard,

son of King Edward, who was murdered
with his brother in this tower.

He is Perkin Warbeck,

a gnat that nips on a summer evening
and can be brushed away.

We fear only the poison
that may grow in the bite.

My good Sir Edward,
a safe crossing on the Irish Sea

and keep your feet on firm ground
in that slippery land.

God save Your Grace.

There goes the chamberlain in full sail.

There is a man who will lie abeam of
any great event and wait a favorable wind.

- I do not trust him.
- He crowned the King.

The wind blew a crown across his bows

and he used it
as he thought to his advantage.

There's sourness in him.

- Wait here with my men, Sir Robert.
- I do, my Lord.

Lord Oxford, you walk about late.

- And I do not know why.
- Oh?

Sir Robert Clifford is here from Antwerp
and delivered himself to me.

- Where's Clifford now?
- I have him here in custody.

- On what charge?
- Charge?

There's no charge yet,
except that he's a traitor.

- How's that so?
- Early last year, Clifford went to Antwerp

and there joined the company
of that young man

who calls himself
the fourth King Richard of England.

Is that treason?

Only that Antwerp is half filled
with disgruntled Yorkists

- and this young man...
- Perkin Warbeck.

..he has a company of archers
with white roses in their hats,

given him by the Emperor Maximilian.

And he displays the royal arms of England
in his house as though he were enthroned.

And this... Clifford has spent
all these months in his company.

- And is now come home.
- Yes.

He strays into my yard, bold as a goat,

and fixes me with those little,
goat-like eyes

and then tells me that the King has granted
him pardon and a safe conduct.

- I come to you.
- Rightly.

Is Clifford a man of yours?

Has become so,
for rather he's the King's pensioner.

He awaits his pension and forgiveness.

- You are the old fox, Your Grace.
- Oh, no.

Fox is in Durham. Only Morton is here.

I had instructed him by messengers
to present himself to you.

If you will carry him by boat
to Greenwich tomorrow,

the King will expect you.

I had thought to give you some token
this Christmas.

A ruby ring to wear to Mass.
Would you like that?

I would like the peace
of my Lord's realm.

Oh, that is sure.

And a ruby ring, as well?

When Arthur is married
to a princess of Spain

and Margaret is Queen of the Scots,

our children shall be seals on treaties.

Blood is stronger than wax.
The same red stains deeper.

- Harry. Oh, forgive me.
- Mother, what is it?

I have grave news.
My brother, Jasper, is dying.

Old Uncle of Bedford,
has he come to rest?

He must die here.

Will you go, my love? Ask Daubenay
to bring him if he's transportable.

He must end as he's lived, in our sight.

I remember... how at Harfleur

he raised his banner
before any other man for me

when I was Earl of Richmond.

Those are days I would neither lose
nor live again, Mother.

I must be the last invader.

- Then keep good hold.
- We do.

- You forgive too much.
- Let the wounds heal.

- The King will see me.
- Who's there?

My Lord, lady.

You come in stinking weather.
You have news.

- Aye, my Lord.
- News from Ireland?

- Ireland is an object of some mirth.
- Well, that's something.

Mother, we'll come to you soon.

Let's have it.

I hear Poynings has made a clean sweep
of the Irish Lords and arrested Kildare.

- Has he indeed? Kildare?
- He's been packed a prisoner to England.

Well, there's a parcel.
This time he must lodge in the Tower.

We have no other fences strong
enough for a bull. You have other news?

I have brought, by the Cardinal's order,
Sir Robert Clifford.

- Yes, I know.
- Will Your Grace speak with him?

- Tomorrow, in council.
- Yes, my Lord.

We shall need good eyes
to read the truth in that shadowy man.

Your gracious Majesty.

Rise, Clifford.

Bray.

Sir Robert Clifford, in a letter
conveyed to His Grace, the Cardinal,

on the eighth day of November

you did declare
that you had certain knowledge

of diverse treasonable activities
and conspiracies

committed by several subjects of this realm

in aid and abettance of the pretender,
Perkin Warbeck,

pertaining to the overthrow of our
most gracious sovereign, King Henry,

which matters you sought to lay in person
before His Majesty.

I did so.

And that these conspiracies
were made known to you

in the land of Flanders
and the dukedom of Burgundy,

where you attended the said pretender

in private service of the King
and the council.

- You know that to be true.
- Thank you, Bray.

What conspiracies?

Your Majesty, having obtained
the credence and trust of that pretender

through my own pretense
of being of his faction... as I was bid,

I learned much, from him and from his
entourage, which I have since verified.

Much of what?

First, my Lord, that he was promised

by the Emperor Maximilian
and the Duchess of Burgundy

the means of crossing the sea and
landing in this realm with men and arms.

That we know.

And that in this he may be aided
by the throne of Scotland,

whose envoys came several times
to Antwerp and with whom I spoke.

This we believe.

Other springs of discontent
are being tapped

in Calais and here in London.

- Who in Calais?
- The Lord Fitzwalter is the principal.

You know that?

I've read his letters
and have copies here.

We'll see those later.
Who disaffects in London?

Some of the Church
and some of the court, my Lord.

The clergy have no cause to hate us.
Who of the court?

My Liege, I feel that by pointing
the finger I may give offence.

The offence is in their act, not
your intelligence... if you say rightly.

Among them is a kinsmen of... that lord.

William Daubenay.

That comes close home.

What proof have you?

They all communicate with Warbeck.
I have brought letters.

- More copies?
- Some in the original.

And all these men will rise
if Warbeck lands?

- Yes, they are sworn to it.
- We must examine this.

- There have been no murmurs.
- But here, close to our court.

Closer, sir, than I have said.

What more?

I have proof, sir... against your security.

We had thought this realm at peace,
but this is a catalog of some discredit.

Or is it but an adding-up of malice?

It will stand inquiry.
I've only done as I was commissioned.

- And will be rewarded if it is proved.
- It cannot be proved.

Yes, Your Grace, it can.

Oh?

That is all?

We asked. That is all?

There is one other.

Who?

I... hesitate to name so great an officer.

One of your council.

Brother... of an earl.

- He is not here.
- Sir William Stanley.

- The Lord Chamberlain?
- The first of all.

That is not true!

Last March, my Liege,
before I went to Flanders,

Sir William talked with me, gave me
messages of good hope for Warbeck,

begged me to be his intelligencer
and send reports back.

- Which you have done?
- From time to time, yes. For appearances.

It is not possible.

I knew Your Grace would not at once
credit it, or I would have named him first.

If it is false...

- I stand in danger?
- You do.

But I have witnesses who'll speak on oath.

Oath! That is enough poison
for one sitting.

The air in here is foul.

When you've read the depositions,
come to us, Bray.

We shall not easily believe this man.

Sir William's brother,
Thomas, Earl of Derby, is part of this?

I think he does not know, my Lord.

Well?

What do we do?

I think this business, started, must go on.

Do you believe in it, Bray?

It touches persons least reliable,
most easily estranged.

- The Church?
- Is jealous of sanctuary and privilege.

And other men play games while we work.

Will Your Grace proceed?

Do you think
Sir William Stanley plays games?

We will move our court to the Tower of
London. Summon Sir William to attend us.

As chamberlain.

He scarcely breathes.

Uncle?

He's left us.

Goodbye, old man.

God light your wandering.

He has taken my youth... Mother.

Your Royal Grace.

My Uncle of Bedford... is dead.

I grieve with Your Majesty.

He was an old man.

Yes.

You sent for me. I am here.

I am surprised you hold court
in this gloomy tower.

- I had thought you were at Greenwich.
- It is convenient.

- Are you honest, Stanley?
- I... hope so, my Lord.

So do I. If you were a man
painted on glass, I could see through you.

My Lord?

You are too opaque.
I would have you... in a window.

- Oh, Your Grace is whimsical.
- But not inconstant.

- I was once your suitor.
- What d'you mean?

The night before Bosworth
I rode alone to your camp

and begged your help
against Richard of Gloucester in the field.

Which I gave you.

Only when Richard
was so placed by his own rashness

that you were sure of his overthrow.

I did not stand by like Tom.

I proclaimed you King
and have served you nine years since.

- And yourself.
- I... have some property in Wales.

- I am no earl.
- But you would be.

Your Majesty has summoned me
to carp at me?

Now, why should you carp at that?

- We are no fish, sir. We are your King.
- Do I not know? I made you King.

You made us not!

Nor since have loved us.

Oh, love's in the heart,
sir. It is not a duty.

It's not in your heart,
is it, Sir William?

I am no flatterer.

Yet you flatter Warbeck.

I do what?

Oh, Stanley, how can I know your mind?

Did you or did you not, last March,

- send messages by Sir Robert Clifford?
- I did not.

- And are you honest?
- Who says that I did?

His Grace, the cardinal, has intelligence

that you and others
have compounded with that boy.

The cardinal has spies in every kitchen.
They'll serve what dish he choose.

We did not credit it, either.

For one thing,
we did not think you such a fool.

The French boy is nothing.

- But there is proof, it seems.
- What proof have they?

Enough evidence to stand examination.

I... am to be charged?

I, who am the staff
on which your household leans?

- I am your trusty servant!
- We don't know that.

There are men of whom
we would more readily believe it.

- What can I say?
- Nothing to us.

You shall answer to a private court.

We shall command
Oxford, Bray and Morton and others

to investigate the whole matter.
There is as yet no writ against you.

If there is no charge,
I may be about the court?

We meet the new year at Richmond.
You will stay here in the Tower.

A prisoner?

Digby, the lieutenant, will be your keeper
until we've measured your honesty.

I will have law.

There you are, Sir William.

The room is bare... but you may furnish it.

- It's cold.
- It is the cold season.

But firewood and light
will cost you but five shillings a week.

This is a good room. When you've ordered
your furniture you'll be well set.

And you may have servants.
Ten shillings for two.

- The others are housed in Newgate.
- What others?

If you were committed, the treasury
should pay your food and so forth,

- but since you are merely lodged...
- What others are in Newgate?

Why... the Dean of St Paul's.

Bless him.

And other clergy,
who find it something like hell.

And there are gentlemen. Sir Simon
Mountford, I hear, and Master Daubenay,

have been taken in, together with
other, lesser men - servants and so on.

- And await trial?
- They stay at the King's pleasure.

Not, I think, at theirs.

You have good light in that window.
You will see the sun of an afternoon.

- I...
- Should it shine.

..would receive friends?

You may ask.

But whether it be granted
depends upon the King.

We all depend upon the King.

We do that. And he depends upon God.

And He, I sometimes think, depends on
whether He is awake or asleep.

- Erm... about servants.
- Yes?

There is a prisoner...

Well, there are two,
but one I have in mind.

He is too young for Newgate.
They will corrupt him.

- If he's not already corrupted.
- He's a boy. And a very good servant.

He'll serve you very well. Master Thomas
Astwood, a steward of Martin Abbey,

- I have asked for you.
- I am in your hands.

Yes.

I will have him brought to you.

Though why I should be kept here,
that have done nothing to offend our King.

They all say that, sir.

So there's the wound. How deep?

- It cuts to the court.
- Even to the chamberlain?

Sir William Stanley
has been brought before us.

To what effect?

There is evidence, by word of mouth,
that he'd be willing to have Warbeck come.

And crown him king?

Do you believe it, Bray?

I think that Stanley waits to see which
of the opposing sides will gain him most.

He collects factions as he gathers gems,

and does not wear them
till the occasion's right.

This was always a proud, uncertain man,
whose service we have bought...

with a high office
which answers not to his ambition.

He is, my Lord, the richest man of York.

His land lies at a wild edge, near waters
that have been stirred up before.

In any rebellion
he will be a power... a head.

- He wrote letters?
- None that we have found.

And you have examined all the witnesses?

We have. The Crown's case would stand.

But all this may be mere suspicion.

- Still, we daren't keep him.
- So he must lose his office.

- And then what?
- Retire to his estates and plot for sure.

- Unless we distrain him.
- And most likely send him into exile?

No. There are enough broody Englishmen
in Flanders. We'll have no more.

- He must be attainted and condemned.
- Of treason.

The King's Bench can do it.

We may then pardon him.

- That is the royal mercy.
- Much used of late.

Punishment will lose its force
if you hold its arm.

We will not rule in blood.

Except... it be necessary.

Let the law speak.

Let it interminably be writ
for the mayor to try the others

with a full court
of lords, judges and alderman.

And if the case goes against them...

Stanley shall be tried at Westminster.

Pay Sir Robert Clifford in reward
a thousand pounds.

- 500 will suffice.
- 500, then.

- And keep your ears open, my old friend.
- We do, sir.

So... we're to be tried Friday.

- Who? Thomas?
- Aye. And them as lie in Newgate.

Ah, then you'll have to lie.

I will lie, sir, don't fear.
Unless the priests be confessors.

But to stand accused
with an ounce of fish in your stomach,

I'd sooner it was Thursday,
when I could have eaten meat

and pleaded like a man.

- D'you reckon they'll hang us, sir?
- No, Thomas. I think they won't.

- And you're not to be tried?
- Ah, my turn comes later, if at all.

For I have done nothing.

The King wants... merely my money.

They say he has a great habit of trying men
and then letting them go...

that he may prove his point
and show his mercy...

- Yes.
- ..so people will love him. Is it likely?

I think he may hang
one or two who have made some move.

Not such as me.
I'm a steward. I do what I'm told.

Pocket your fear, Thomas.

This trial is a mere show.
I know how the world works.

A month today,
we will all be walking free...

at the winter's end.

The Earl of Kildare has a north-facing room
overlooking the town wall.

Oh?

And would have pleasure
in talking with you, the warders say.

- I do not know him.
- He'd be good company for your Lordship.

The lieutenant will allow it if you ask.

They say he's a rare animal,
with a good wit.

- An Irishman.
- I do not know him.

You should, though.
We get broody, Your Honor,

waiting alone on judgment.

Ha. It's a hungry,
still time in the country,

with the grain going and the food salt.

And nothing stirring
at the edge of the woods.

I wish I were there.

Are there wolves in Denbighshire?

Oh, no, the shepherds have killed them all.

We used to have wolves
when I was a little boy.

I didn't see them, but I could hear them.
And the dogs wouldn't bark.

No. They find them, still,
to the mountains to our west,

but... my estates are well manned.

Your Lordship won't be needing a steward,
then, when we're free?

Thomas, there might be some place
if you... hold your tongue on Friday.

I'll thank you when I've a body left.

Oh, God... may they not touch me.

Thomas...

try to grow into a man... and let me read.

If you met the Earl of Kildare,
Sir William, you could be more merry.

Or more wearied by him.

You're not afraid?

Thomas... my brother's wife
is the King's mother.

- He will not hear you?
- He says that William must be tried.

- If the rest are found guilty.
- Oh, he has bad counsel.

How can you let this be?
You're the Queen, the King's wife.

- He will not listen.
- Oh, he will hear me.

When we married, Thomas,
and when you and my son were wed,

we joined the hands
of Lancaster and York -

oh, first out of policy, but then in love.

We are his family.

- He must not use your brother in this way.
- I have implored him.

And you, no doubt, have sighed.

But I... will tell him.

Now... leave me, as he comes.

- Will you let me pass, Mother?
- My son...

Mother, I am busy.

Hanging your wife's people?

I do nothing like.

And my husband's brother.

You've heard about
Sir William Stanley, then?

As who has not? He is mild
and inconsequential, if a little vain.

- You cannot fear him.
- Nor rely on him.

He's been loyal to you,
as have all the Stanleys.

He has been grudging. Mother,

you've always told me
that I am too lenient.

What am I to do with a chamberlain
who plots with rebels?

There is proof?

- Some doubt.
- Then... give it him.

If he but thinks treason,
there are others guiltier.

More active, not guiltier.

I shall not murder him, Mother.
He will face law.

If Thomas or I could see Sir William
and speak with him...

No, you'll not interfere.

- I've always helped you.
- Not always.

I will send Morton to him.

If he find any mood
of loyalty in the man...

we'll think again.

My Lord Chamberlain.
Are you comfortable?

- In neither mind nor body.
- Yet you have some good things.

Oh, oddments merely,
from my London rooms.

- What a beautiful piece of silver.
- Ah, yes, that is German.

You see on top of it,
Kronos is talking to Ares.

Yes.

And that piece there is new. It's English.

Yes.

- And er... this?
- Ah, from Flanders, yes.

- Small but delicate, don't you think?
- It brightens a dull wall.

Ah... an engraving.

Unusually done.

Yes, by a young man of the school
of Nuremberg. Hardly known as yet.

Hm. Profane, but it has spirit.

Our noble Lord, the King, has let me come.

- To make an inventory?
- I am no bailiff.

- You know what the King wants.
- Mm. My money.

Ha. I hadn't thought of that.

He wants good servants. Are you one?

Unless it is proved otherwise.

You, my Lord, were at Bosworth, too.

- We were his first men.
- Some of us were earlier.

- Have you writ to Warbeck?
- No.

- Or shown him any partiality?
- Have you?

I am not named, Sir William, but you are.

By your intelligence,
that the King may beggar me.

Could I but bring His Grace
some proof of your good course...

- What proof can I give?
- ..the charge might be lessened.

- And I might be robbed of less.
- Such is your life.

You and the King have put this on me
for the privy purse.

You lose me, sir.

Nor you nor he
can bear to see a man grow fat.

All the nobility are mulct,
merchants taxed,

gentlemen squeezed of feudal rights,

and the royal treasure grows and grows
and makes hirelings of all of us!

I have underpaid no dues,
evaded no redemption,

but the King courses me
because I am rich.

This is a hunt for sport

but it is a contrivance
no judge will accept in public court.

This case against me has no document
and is without any respected witness!

- Do you blame the King?
- I blame your policy,

my Most Reverend Grace.
This is a shearing to fleece another sheep,

that you may have more money
for bribing spies to slander honest men!

You are too windy, sir.
Huffing will not bring you home.

But mercy may. And some humility.

I am... not humble.

Would you like your lady wife to visit you?

She is not well.
She cannot cross the country.

- Your children?
- If they are by. Since they have grown,

- I have not seen much of them.
- It can be arranged.

No, spare your time. I'll go free to them,
though it cost me a fair fine.

You and His Majesty may compute it
and I'll pay for my... innocence.

I'll tell him so.

You...

- Sir William.
- Yes, Thomas?

- I have brought his Lordship of Kildare...
- Thomas, not at this moment!

- ..to cheer you, sir.
- Well, Stanley, we'll meet in the pound

as we may in the stocks.

- Is there not friendship among prisoners?
- I count my friends.

- Well, count me.
- And mind my tongue.

Oh, my Lord, you are welcome.
Do have some wine.

Thomas.

What do you see from here?

Oh. Tower Hill.

There's none but rooves from mine.

This room's lighter.

- Who's that who leaves?
- It is the cardinal.

That creaking old man.

- Is he your friend?
- No, he's a tax-collector.

Did he not come to see you
about your soul?

Hardly. I am in debt to Mammon
£3,000 a year.

That is a lot.

- Sir?
- No, Thomas.

You've a fine place, I hear,
on the Welsh border.

The finest, warmest gentleman's house
in Denbighshire.

Mm, not like this damn place.

Smells of rotted flesh.

- Why are you here?
- The King would replace me.

Why are you?

He has replaced me.

The Irish parliament's attainted me.

With the English bowmen
pointing arrows at them.

They'll have me back.
He can't pen us long.

They've penned Warwick here
these nine years and they'll do more.

- The boy's defective from it.
- We'll make a king of him for all that.

Or Warbeck. Or another. It matters little.

- Thomas.
- Mm?

Ah, no, let the lad stay.
There's too much silence.

No, Thomas.

When I saw Warbeck,
he seemed a likely lad.

As good as the next
to sit through a ceremony.

What word have you given him?

Only that... if he be truly Edward's son
I'll not bear arms against him.

- And if he's not, you'll keep your place?
- What else?

- You play it both ways?
- Oh, my Lord, who does not? I am mortal.

And I am master of Ireland or I am nothing.

They'll have me back. I can wait.

- Unless Henry murders me.
- Oh, murder is legal now, my Lord.

They do it by jury and call it Tudor law.

Why, then, did you declare for Henry?

Because when he was young
he seemed pliable, modest,

took direction, courted and flattered us.

He came supplicant to me
the night before Bosworth

and said he'd make me Earl of Chester
if I won his battle for him on the morrow.

Promised me.

And in the morning, when his troops were
stuck in the marshes, being massacred,

I loosed my men, 3,000 of them, all
in red jackets with the white hart on 'em,

and they ran over that field like blood.

And when... Richard was killed
I seized the crown

and I crowned this man
by the grace of God of England, Ireland...

- I thought your brother did that.
- No, it was I.

- You got no earldom.
- Chester, my Lord, is a county palatinate.

It's a little kingdom.

In the old days,
all great men of power were powers

and the King was a mere center
round which the world revolved.

Edward knew that.

But this Tudor's a Lancastrian writ big,

- a cuckoo that sits in our tree.
- Then we must mob him out.

I've often thought of it,
but stayed my hand and...

- now we've no power.
- Oh, good God, man, you're well placed.

Your friends, relations, relatives.

Followings in the court
and in the provinces.

I did much more in Ireland
with less means.

When I'm released.

Oh...

I... don't know.

The chance may never come.

Oh...

these... Welsh winters.

All... English flowers die.

Romance... and chivalry... are dead.

Nibbled away...
by heretics and shepherds...

and greedy kings.

What has the court found?

All who were tried were convicted
and will be sentenced to be hanged.

The priests, as well.

- Did they confess?
- All, save Robert Ratcliffe.

The priests may wait pardon.

We'll not estrange the Church,
Lord Cardinal.

Thank you, sir.
I have seen Sir William Stanley.

- And he says?
- He admits nothing.

But would pay a fine to hold you off.

He'd bribe us?

We know he does connive
and would do more.

- Did the confessions speak of him?
- No, Your Grace.

- Nor letters found?
- No.

- Then he must go free.
- But, my Lord...

- Your Grace expressly said...
- That he should stand trial.

- If the rest were guilty.
- As they are.

Is there less mercy in the mitre
than in the crown?

- We've saved your priests.
- And I would save the kingdom.

Faction's a luxury we must cut out.
If needs be, with a knife.

This is a kinsman
and you have a poor case.

Kildare was loosed to him,
and straight way he talked treason.

May we believe this?

I have it from Master Digby
and his proved witness, sir,

that they do plot together.

Stanley and Kildare?

- Ireland and York.
- Two disaffected men.

- Let Sir William Stanley have fair trial.
- By all his peers.

We might as well throw him to the dogs.

Still... he may persuade them.

That's... Mountford up.

Ratcliffe beside him.

And... Daubenay.

There's no... fourth.

- Why do they cheer?
- Young Thomas Astwood is pardoned.

For his extreme youth.

Oh, that's the er...
the boy that was your servant here.

- It is.
- You remain, my Lord?

Yes, Digby.

It is not for... his youth
that Astwood is pardoned.

- No?
- No.

I was guarded tongued until you came,

but he was here when we talked
what might be called treason.

I don't believe you.
We spoke in general, not particular.

Any tapster may call the King a rogue
and keep his head if he's not specific.

- Then why is Astwood saved?
- Well, Henry knows how to be popular.

- You may succeed at Westminster.
- No. No.

It'll go against me.
By the book, it's by now rehearsed.

I... feel... some...

doom.

Take this to the Lord Chief Justice.

For him privately.

Where does his treachery lie...

but in his mind?

This bench, in the name of the King,

does rule and deliver
that William Stanley, Knight,

for the abominable and detestable treasons

proven of him
against His Majesty in this realm

shall of this court be convicted
and condemned of high treason

and shall have and suffer pains of death,

loss of goods, chattels, debts,
farms and all other things

and be taken to a place of execution,
drawn and quartered

in most convenient time and speed.

I am not guilty.

- Sir William.
- You have news?

- Yes.
- From the King?

- Yes.
- I am free.

His Gracious Majesty, in his mercy,

commutes your sentence
from hanging and drawing

to less painful execution.

I... am to be beheaded.

On Monday morning at 11,
here on Tower Hill.

- No pardon?
- While you live, you've hope of that.

There's a commission set
to inquire into your lands and possessions

- and take charge of them.
- He'll not have them and my head.

I do not know.

You...

There's a priest here to say Mass.

He...

Let him in.

Your Reverence.

In God's name, Sir William.

Hussey.

Oh... Hussey...

I'm on the edge of the pit.

I-I... Look, I think, er, for my short walk
on Monday I'll... I'll... wear these.

This... cloak,
this tunic and the belt of gold.

Erm...

These hose. They're new.
And... those shoes.

And... this... cap of green velvet
with the white hart on it.

D'you think... erm...
I will dress suitably.

It will pass the time for you.

I shall be pardoned, of course,
on Tower Hill. Others have been.

- I hope you may.
- If not before.

I have powerful friends
and I'm... paving other ways, oh yes.

Yes. I'm quite sure.

- When does Warbeck come?
- That is not yet known.

But there is another plan,
if that miscarries.

I will not plot now.

Certain gentlemen traveling in Rome
have met an astrologer

who can kill the King.

But this man wants more money
than they can pay.

- If you would give...
- I will not conspire now.

..a jewel, a... ring, perhaps.

Oh... are we brought to this,

to behold superstition like a sword
and think it potent?

We are modern men.

I have... been... loyal...

in deed... to the King.

Till now.

The Church may have it.

Let God and men do what they will.

And now I will confess you.

Oh... I've not sinned much
since we last met.

- There's little occasion here.
- No sinful thoughts?

Is thinking a sin?

In the head lies all... the future...

and the salvation... of men.

And to have it lopped off seems to me

an... old blasphemy

I hoped we had grown... out of.

Do they cut... Of course they cut
above the collar of your coat.

It would spoil the cloth, else.
I've never looked closely.

The King will forgive you.
He has made his point.

Yes. Yes, of course he will.

If word comes not
before I... reach the scaffold,

I'll wear my gold belt.

And then, when the pardon is made...
I'll give you that for the Church...

in thanksgiving.

- You'll be there.
- I will.

My Lord?

- You grieve for something?
- I'll not be weak.

What hour is it?

It is nearly 11.

I wish it were noon.

- Word from the King?
- No.

- You are waited on.
- Aye.

I... My er...

My chain. Er... Er...

My...

My gold belt. My...

gold belt. My... My chain.

Erm...

Oh. Where... Where...
Where are my shoes?

Er... and my chain.

Where is my chain? Someone has taken it.

- You must come.
- I cannot come!

I... am...

not...

ready.

There.

Do I...

- Am I right?
- You look well, Sir William.

- If only I could...
- Their Lordships wait.

Oh, it... is too bad.

I...

I...

will have dignity.

Gentlemen... what word from the King?

There's none, Sir William.

Will you not kneel?

I am not... ready.

My... mind...

is not dressed to meet...

death.

We can see from here, my Lord.
We are in time.

I'll not look.

Now, I think.

Oh...

Is it done?

Yes.

This room's as swiftly vacant as
he who's gone from it by the King's will.

Your Lordship may stay in the good light.

May God bless you.