All language subtitles for The.Shadow.of.the.Tower.S01E07.en

Mm...

Filth! That's what it is, filth!

- Yes, Sir John.
- Good Lord, she looks just like a real woman.

It's an insult, Bernard, an insult.

These Italians, they've no sense of shame,
no respect for womanhood, decency, purity.

I don't know what's happening,
I really don't.

- Happening to whom, sir?
- To the world, to the Church, to the Order.

A picture like this in the apartments of the Grand
Prior of the Order of St. John, it's not fit.

Erm, would you like me to have it moved
to another room, sir?

What? To corrupt my
servants? Certainly not.

What to me is a hideous
and lubricious representation

of the most tender of all holy scenes,
it's said to be well done.

And there's nothing so corrupting to ignorant
minds as filth disguised as fine art.

Leave it where it is.

In Rome, they are not so strict in such matters
as they are in England, sir. The Church...

The Church, it's a sink, Bernard.
A sink of depravity and abomination.

Where is chivalry? Dead.
Honor, purity, truth.

Murdered in their beds,

and on their bleeding corpses
sprawled like a whore lies the body of...

Archdeacon Hussey, sir.

Ah, Hussey! I was just telling Bernard
that what we need is a crusade.

Is that so?
Welcome to Rome, Bernard.

Oh, thank you, sir.

Yes, a crusade. The Church is corrupt, she
needs a new sense of purpose, a mission.

She needs to let blood,
to purify herself with war.

- Oh.
- People here talk about Greece and Rome

as though they were the basis
of our civilization. Greece and Rome!

Well, aren't they? I mean...

Jerusalem, Hussey!
Are we Christians or pagans?

- Ah!
- I feel it my duty as Grand Prior of my Order

to urge the Holy Father to summon
the 10th Crusade.

No! I don't think that would be
very opportune, Sir John.

His uncle called one, His Holiness
Calixtus III called one, why shouldn't he?

It's in the family, virtually a tradition.
An obligation!

Yes, I don't think His Holiness
Alexander VI quite sees it in that light.

I shall broach it with him tomorrow.

Whom do you want him to crusade against?

The Turks of course, who else?

Oh, I really wouldn't advise it, Sir John.

- But why not?
- Well, it's very well known in the Vatican

that His Holiness has a most
unusual relationship with the Grand Turk.

I mean the Sultan and the Pope
are, well, remarkably good friends.

What the Archdeacon means, sir,

is that His Holiness keeps
the Sultan's brother here

in exchange for
a certain number of ducats a year.

Thank you, Bernard.

Pope and the Grand Turk in alliance?
Why wasn't I told?

It's not an official alliance, sir,
it's more of a convenient arrangement.

Prince Djem lives here as a guarantee
for a peaceful situation in the east.

Thank you, sir.

Holy places desecrated for ducats.

What are we coming to, Hussey?

What are we coming to?

And where have you come from, may I ask?

- Good morning, Uncle.
- Morning? It's nearly ten!

Is it really?
Good heavens, I must have overslept.

- Good morning.
- Good morning, Bernard. Thank you.

- Did I hear you say "overslept"?
- Yes, Uncle.

Then perhaps you'll be so good as to
tell me where you so indulged yourself,

because I understand from the servants
that it was not here!

- Oh, er, well...
- It's perfectly all right, Sir John.

There was a celebration in St. Peter's last night
and afterwards, His Holiness... The Pope's...

- Nephew, sir.
- Thank you. The Pope's nephew

invited us all to supper.

Oh. That young man?

He's very good company, Uncle.

- That's not what I hear.
- Oh?

I hear that the company of Cesare Borgia
is so far from being good

that wise men shun it like the plague.

Oh.

I am surprised an archdeacon should
lower himself to attend such an affair.

It would have been impolite to refuse,
Sir John.

And possibly impolitic.

Well, yes, that I can believe. It's a sad
state of things, a deplorable state of things,

when the simonists hold sway in St. Peter's

and the nepotists
own their own sons and daughters.

Oh, we live, gentlemen,
I'm sorry to say it but it's true,

we live at one of the lowest points
in the whole moral history of mankind.

Yes, Uncle.

Sir John, now that everyone is here...

- What?
- The business.

Oh, yes, yes. I suppose there's nowhere more
suitable to discuss this business than Rome.

- No, sir.
- Oh, very well.

Bernard brings most interesting news
about, er, the merchant.

- Who, Uncle?
- The Merchant of Ruby.

The Duke of York.

Shh!

You will not refer to him as the Duke
of York in my presence, de Noyon.

- I beg your pardon, Your Eminence.
- His name is Perkin Warbeck.

His father is a merchant in Flanders,
we have all the evidence.

He has nothing to do
with King Edward IV whatever.

It was only a slip of the tongue.

Warbeck is a fraud and an impostor.

I want to know the names of everyone
who thinks otherwise.

I believe we broke the back of
any conspiracy last spring, my Lord.

Did we? Was Sir William Stanley
the only gullible Yorkist left?

- I have very little reason to think otherwise.
- But you have some?

- It is only scraps.
- Pursue them.

As you know, the Holy Roman Emperor
is a victim of Warbeck's plausibility.

He's given him substantial sums of money.

We do have a very good man
in Vienna, my Lord.

- Only one?
- He has his assistants.

It isn't only Vienna.
It's Rome, Paris, Madrid.

He has supporters all over Europe.

They're not all as loyal to
him as they pretend, my Lord,

if you will read my report.

I have read it. I've read others also.

It's quite clear that Warbeck
is planning an invasion.

He has the troops,
he's gathering the ships.

But he won't risk it unless
there's some chance,

however slight,
of a rising in his favor.

I don't believe there is such a chance,
my Lord.

But he does, de Noyon.

Don't underestimate the seriousness
of this business.

With the emperor behind him, Warbeck
could be the biggest threat to this country

since His Majesty came to the throne.

Indeed, I think he is that already.

Ah! What do you think of that?

The merchant is in Vienna
doing business with the Emperor.

Pray God he will soon be in England.

Ah, he will be.
The court is gathering strength.

The age may be corrupt
but virtue is not quite extinguished.

- No, no, not quite.
- Let us give thanks to God.

Er, will you, Hussey, or shall I?

I, er, I think you, Sir John.

Very well.

Oh Lord our General, mighty in battle
and bloody in combat,

look down upon thy faithful knights
here gathered

and straightened for the morrow
that they may be valiant in Your name.

Let not the blows of the heathen
fall upon them

but let them smite him to Thy glory
so that the blood gushes from him,

that they may do Thy will as Thou wouldst
have them do it, amen.

Now, where were we?

You were going to give thanks, Uncle.

What? Oh.

We thank Thee, Lord, that thou hast
numbered us among Thy halberdiers

and sent us forth to battle, amen.

Er, I see it as a crusade, Hussey.

We are the Knights St. John
and they are the Saracens.

We must take back the
holy places of England

and restore them
to the House of York.

Of course, blood will have to be let,
it's no use pretending otherwise.

The King,
the princes and all their near relations

will have to die, certainly.

Surely not as many as that.

We must root out the Lancastrians
once and for all, my boy,

it's no use not doing the job properly.

As a matter of fact, Sir John Tong and I

were discussing the ethical problem
involved with some Catalans last night.

You spoke of this matter in public?

No, no, it was purely a philosophical discussion
on a frequently recurring moral issue.

The duty of a subject towards an usurper
and so on.

I thought it was a most
interesting discussion.

- Didn't you?
- Oh, most, most.

And what were English gentlemen doing
holding ethical discussions with Catalans?

There was hardly anyone else there. I mean,
the Borgias are Catalans. Didn't you know?

I had heard they were Spanish, yes.

One of them came out with a very simple
but very good idea.

- A close friend of His Holiness, too.
- Well?

He suggested we poison him.

- Poison the Pope? Have you both gone mad?
- No, no, the King.

Oh, the King. No! No, certainly not.

What, behave like a Turk or a Jew?

It's out of the question for a knight
of a chivalrous order to stoop so low.

You surprise me, Hussey.
I thought you knew me better than that.

- Sir John...
- No, I won't hear of it! Good Lord!

What have we sunk to that Christian English
gentlemen should ever for one moment

consider using poison to kill their king?

Honor, gentlemen, honor!
Even if the King has none.

But that is what I said myself, Sir John.

Besides,
the practical difficulties are too great.

But there was another
and better suggestion...

- Don't listen to him, Uncle.
- Why not? What are you talking about?

He wants us to try astrology.

It's a very ancient and honorable science.

Archdeacon,
how can you be so superstitious?

Superstitious? You call belief in the most
ancient wisdom on earth superstitious?

- As a matter of fact, Sir John...
- Shh!

What are you doing, sir?

I'm warding off the devil.

In nomini domini, baraca baraca lalfec.

Ah. That, to my nephew, is superstitious.

To me, to the Archdeacon, to men
with some grounding in the mysteries,

it was a very potent charm against
the ignorance and inanity of youth.

Now, you were saying, Hussey?

Well, it so happens, Sir John,
that I am, at this very moment,

lodging with a very interesting and learned
Spanish doctor called Radigo.

- A quack!
- He is very distinguished!

And a good Christian, of course.

I was wondering whether
we might approach him.

They can do extraordinary things,
these fellows.

- Yes, quite.
- You will have no chivalrous objection?

No, no, no, on the contrary.
Er, bring him to dinner, Hussey.

Uncle?
I'm glad they've got your new picture.

It's beautiful, isn't it?

I'm afraid my nephew's
one of the new generation.

Prefers modern so-called art
to ancient wisdom.

- They're not incompatible, you know?
- No?

You have a very good example there.

What, have I?

Very good. Beautiful. May I ask,
Sir John,

how much you gave for it?

Well, I'm, er, I'm really not sure.
The Order bought it, not me.

Oh, you are not a collector yourself, then?

Good Lord, no.

I am. I am not one of these who believes
in separating the arts and sciences.

They are both ways of approaching
the mystery of the universe.

I like to keep up with what's happening
in other fields.

Ah, but do you believe that either of them
ever get there?

I mean, to the mystery of the universe.

It's the journey,
not the arrival, of course.

But I know no better means of traveling.

What about love?

What's that?!

There, you make my point for me.

Love is both an art and a science.

- Did I hear right?
- Yes.

Good Lord.

He's very advanced.
Convention means nothing to him.

He's passed beyond it, he says.

Has he indeed?
Well, sir, I may be a conventional man,

but to me the only
love that's worthy of the

name was the love
of a knight for his lady.

Oh, Uncle, you do understand! Ha-ha!

- Not your kind of lady.
- Oh.

I mean the pure princess who sent her
devoted knight on arduous journeys

to slaughter the Saracens for her sake.

That is true love, my boy.

Oh, dear. That's not my idea of love.

You are both right, of course.

What?

You, Sir John,
in the prime of middle years,

naturally think as you do,

while your nephew here -
young, lusty, full of sap...

Please, please, sir!

I'd rather not have that kind of talk here
if you don't mind.

I am the Grand Prior.

- I am extremely sorry.
- Not at all, not at all.

We have our little rules.
Must seem silly to you, I expect.

Oh, I quite understand.

- Uncle is only interested in astrology.
- And you aren't?

Frankly, no.

I wonder why. Don't you believe
what is before your eyes?

Well, of course.

Then you believe there are stars.

Yes.

And how do you think those stars move?
With purpose or without?

Oh, well, er, with.
I mean, there are laws, aren't there?

There are indeed, and they were discovered
as the result of long and arduous study.

But until they were discovered,
how did the stars appear to move?

- I don't understand.
- Nor do I.

No, listen, Sir John, this is very clever.

Sir John, if you did not know that

the stars moved according to certain laws,
then you,

like an ignorant barbarian, would
think they moved without aim or purpose.

Barbarian?

I mean like one without
culture or learning, Sir John.

Oh.

What I'm saying is that appearance
and reality are very different things.

I think I'm beginning to see.

Behind the apparent chaos
of the heavenly bodies

lies the true structure of the universe.

And by analogy,
beneath the surface of things...

lies the true shape of life.

It can be found.

It has been found.

Good Lord!

Once we can understand
the basic structure,

all the secrets of
the universe are revealed.

For the universe - forgive me, Sir John,
I can think of no other way of putting it -

the universe is a harmony
in the ears of God

and all things, if you can hear them,

chime together.

Well... Well, Signor Radigo,

Archdeacon Hussey tells me
you're an exceedingly clever man.

Yes, yes, I am.
There is no point in denying it.

There are so many quacks and charlatans
in Rome

that one owes it to oneself
to make no bones about one's superiority.

Intellectual standards are going
down and down, don't you think?

Oh, indeed, indeed.
And moral ones with them.

We live in an age of decay.

We do, we do, that is why
we wish to consult you.

About moral decay?

Or intellectual?

About the business we...
Hussey, didn't you tell him?

Erm, no, not exactly, Sir John.

I thought it would be better
if he were to meet you first.

The Archdeacon invited me here
to look at the pictures, Sir John.

Pictures? Really, Hussey.

Well, I don't quite know to put this,
but the fact is that...

Uncle wants to kill the King.

Oh, really?

Which one?

Silence!

The vile usurper in England.
I cannot bring myself to utter his name.

I see.

And how do you think I can help you?

Well, I've heard you talk, Signor,

of certain methods which have proved
very efficacious in the past

in ridding the earth of, um,
troublesome encumbrances.

Oh, dear.

I'm afraid there has
been a misunderstanding.

What? You mean it can't be done?

Oh, I'm sure it can, of course.
But... not by me.

Ah. What a pity.

A pity?

But His Eminence...

No one in Rome can be trusted today.

Can they?

Oh, gentlemen, come.

Let's not have any
further misunderstanding.

The point is, gentlemen,
I am only a theoretical astrologer.

- Theoretical?
- I'm a pure scientist.

I don't meddle in the practical side
of the business, spirits and so on.

For that, you-you...
you would need a specialist.

Well, er, can you recommend someone?

Oh, I think the best man in your field
would be Master John.

Oh,
he's not a gentleman of course,

but these technical people
are never very cultured, but...

he's a very able man, very able indeed.

I-I-I would stake my life on him.

It will be expensive
and it will take some time.

Let me see...

Killing a king... killing a king...

Mars or Saturn.

Mars is best.

Tuesdays.

Ah... It will be some months,
we are still in Mercury.

- How many months?
- Oh, at least four.

We must have the maximum favorable
celestial conditions for such an operation.

It is a major undertaking.

But how...
Roughly how will you set about it?

I can't say. To be honest
I'm not sure I can do it at all.

Oh, that is honest!

Because I am so busy! I've known nothing
like it since this Pope was elected.

It's nothing but charms, charms, charms.

- Against what?
- Everything!

Arsenic, hemlock, henbane, everything!

And the talismans!

I've had to take a smith on
part-time to keep up with all the work.

Nonetheless, Master John,
I do hope you'll find time for us.

I'm told you're easily the best man
for this sort of thing.

Then I am sorry to hear it.
That is a bad reputation to get.

Easily the best? There is nothing easy
in this business, I can tell you.

And when the pressure is on like now,
it's murder, sheer murder.

- Quite.
- It's all the mental energy, you see.

All the time giving out, out, out,
and getting so little in return.

Do you know I spend ten minutes a day,
hard mental labor,

just keeping this place free from mice.

I am overworked.

My doctor says see an astrologer.
I am an astrologer, I tell him.

Then see another one, he says.
I can't afford to, I tell him.

Anyone who is better than me,
nobody can afford.

- Which is why we have come to see you.
- I am very expensive.

We didn't imagine that
so noble and difficult

a task could be lightly
or cheaply undertaken.

Bernard, arrange the terms.

Before we, er, commit ourselves, Uncle,

don't you think that Master John
should give us a demonstration?

I mean, how do we know he can kill
anyone at all, let along a king?

Oh.

As you will understand, Sir John,

I am reluctant to discuss
my successes in this field

- for obvious reasons.
- Yes, yes, quite.

Er, however, if you wish proof

of my ability, I will oblige.

- I have but one definite reservation.
- Oh, what's that?

I am, I hope, a good Christian.

I would not like to kill another
just for demonstration purposes,

- it would go against my conscience.
- Oh, but of course.

Then, er, how do you intend to do it?

- What about a Turk?
- A Turk.

Yes, you could demonstrate
on one of Prince Djem's attendants for us.

It would be striking
a blow for Christianity, too.

You can have no objections to that.

- Sir John Tong, sir.
- Hm?

Oh, come in, Sir John.
Come in, I won't keep you a moment.

Come in, come in, come in.

I'm, er, just brewing up something
for one of the Papal legates.

You never know what you pick up
in foreign parts these days, do you?

No, no. Whatever is it?

Etiquette forbids I should discuss
another client's affairs with you.

Oh, of course.

We have our own Hippocratic oath,
you know.

Laurel juice, salt, white resin...

Ah! Sulfur. Agrippa,
the sulfur, the sulfur.

Now...

Fold in... Here, you can do this,
I'll hold the bowl.

Yes, sir.

Fold it, man, don't beat it about
like that, fold it, fold it!

Sorry, sir.

I don't like leaving this kind of work
to my scullions,

but I have been mixing potions of one sort
or another day and night for six months

and I think finally I have
sprained my wrist.

Oh, I am sorry.
I once sprained mine, you know, hawking.

Did you really?

The motion should
be a little more rotary.

Yes, sir.

That's better. Now, whisk it.

And what can I do for you, Sir John?

Oh, yes, well, er, Sir John Kendal
asked me to tell you

how extremely impressed he was
with your, er...

demonstration this afternoon.

Ah, my, er demon-stration, eh?

I hope you've brought the money.

I don't like killing on credit,
not even Turks.

Oh, yes, yes, I have it here.

Thank you.

Don't stop, you fool,
it's beginning to form a peak!

- And?
- And what?

And what else did Sir John have to say?

Er, oh, yes, well,
the thing is, we have to

get back to London
in a couple of days...

I can't do anything in that time,
I've already told you.

No, no,
but things are beginning to happen

in England and we have to get back,
so, er...

what we were wondering was whether
you could carry on working for us here.

I would be delighted.

Now you're getting the hang
of it. Take it over to the stove

and let it simmer for a minute.

Don't let it boil over and don't take
your eyes off it for a second.

Yes, sir.

I shall of course have to ask
for payment in advance.

I have a pot of ointment in that cupboard,

ordered by the Duchess of
Burgundy 18 months ago and she still

hasn't paid me for it.

It took me six hard weeks to make.

Er, how... how much will you want?

- Five hundred ducats.
- Good heavens!

- What are you doing, you fool?!
- Poking the fire, sir.

Did I tell you to poke the fire?
Watch the mixture and see it doesn't boil!

Sir John.

You asked me to kill the King, the Queen,
the Queen Mother, the Heir Apparent,

half the Council
and the good Lord knows who else.

I have my overheads.

Well, I know, Master John,
but five hundred ducats seems...

I can't do it for any less. Even then
I won't make a florin profit, not a florin!

Oh. Very well, then. Five hundred.

Good. That's settled, then.

- Master John...
- Yes?

I was wondering if I might ask you
a little favor?

Go on.

Well, er, the thing is, you see,
I met a girl the other night.

- Oh, yes?
- I don't seem to be able to...

Oh, impotence!
That's very common nowadays.

I recommend fresh stinging nettles
and lemon juice.

Oh, no, Nothing like that, not at all!
On the contrary...

Oh, well, for the other thing,
I recommend to rub in a handful of this.

Oh, no! Oh, no... Not that either.

Then what?

She doesn't like me any more.

Ah, you want a love charm.
Why didn't you say so?

- Oh, well, I...
- No, no, no.

You did not believe and now you do.

Yes, honestly.

Well, to show you I like you,
and to seal our bargain,

I give you one for nothing. Oh...

What is your birth sign?

Gemini.

Agrippa!

- Gemini?
- Yes.

I keep a stock of these.
Now, first we put in the sun...

Place the right foot on the parchment...

left knee on the ground.

"By all the names of the s..."

"..of the spirit princes living in you,

"by the ineffable 'Mamom'
which created all things,

"by you, a resplendent Angel Gabriel,

"with the planet Mercury,
Michael and Melchideo

"I conjure you that you send down the...
the power to obsess,

"torment,
and harass the body and the soul...

"of Lucrezia...

"so that she shall come to me
and submit to my desires."

Ha! And I thought you were a humanist.

Go away, Bernard.
Now I shall have to start all over again.

Well, if you're going to start
casting spells, I am leaving!

No! Don't go! I mean...

One never knows,
there might be something in it.

- Oh, come.
- I do love her, Bernard.

Sir John, the sooner you get
back to England, the better.

You have never been in love!

You don't know what it's like.

Do you realize I...
I may never see her again.

Never!

Couldn't you just have a word with Uncle

and ask him to stay for another
two or three weeks?

No. I am very glad we are leaving.

How can you say that?

Because it is too dangerous.

No one would ever believe it.

No one believed Sir William
Stanley would ever lose his head,

he made King Henry king.

He would never lose his head...

but he did, Sir John, didn't he?

- It'll be all right, nothing will happen.
- Oh? How do you know?

Uncle will forget all about it
as soon as he gets back.

Ah, but what about everyone else?

- Everyone?
- Yes.

You and me, your uncle, two astrologers,
the assistants and friends, the Archdeacon.

It's a lot of people to know a secret.

You're as bad as Uncle.
He looks under the bed

every night for Saracens.

Well, I'm very glad that no one else does,

because they might find enough...
to hang us all.

Bernard. Do not say that word.

Sir John, if only your uncle
could find a crusade, you know?

To take his mind off the whole business.

Yes.

Yes, it would help.

Quite.

Well, good night, Sir John.

Good night, Bernard. Oh,
Bernard, you won't...

You won't mention this to him, will you?

Don't worry, you'll inherit all right.

Providing that you don't lose your head.

That is not funny.

Yes, we're very proud of Millborn.
Beautiful place.

One of the finest houses
the Order possesses.

Yes, quite.

Yes,
it has a special place in my affections.

If I may speak frankly, very special.

Oh?

King Edward visited us here once, you see.

Oh, yes.

- I mean, King Edward IV.
- Yes.

- Of, er, blessed memory.
- Quite.

Mm.

Very bad business in the spring,
didn't you think?

Very bad.

Yes, I liked Stanley.

- Did you know him?
- No.

- Oh, you'd have liked him.
- Oh, I'm sure.

Not my idea of a traitor.

- But, er, that's what they said.
- Yes.

And now he's dead, poor fellow.

Quite dead.

Yes, King Edward
walked in these very cloisters.

I wish his son would. If you follow me!

I do, Tommy, I do indeed.

Here, do you see this?
What would you say this was?

- A coat?
- Exactly. I designed it myself. Look.

Good Lord!

Reversible. I got them for all my men.

When are you going to wear it
the right side out?

As soon as, you know.

Yes, yes, they told me.

- On Monday.
- Yesterday? I heard today.

God save the Duke of York!

And all his royal...

Bernard? What the devil
do you think you're doing?

- Keeping watch, sir.
- Watch? Who told you to keep watch?

- You did, sir.
- Did I?

- Uncle!
- Ah! Here comes Sir John Tong.

Ah, my dear boy, my dear boy. Well?

Er... Er, good news, Uncle.

Er, the pretender landed 600 men at Deal
but the, er...

he was beaten off by the Mayor of Sandwich
before he even had time to land.

Praise be to God.

Good news? You call that good news?!

Yes, very good news, Uncle.
Everyone knows he isn't the Duke of York

but Perkin Warbeck.

Yes, I think we've heard the last of
that little nuisance for quite some time.

Thank goodness.

- Good Lord!
- Have you gone completely mad?

Good news? I've never heard such dreadful
news in my life! It's absolutely appalling!

What?

Good God,
Sir Thomas is one of us, you fool!

You don't have to put on
a damn silly performance for him!

Oh... Oh, I'm most awfully sorry, Uncle.

Oh, well, anyway, that appears to be
what's happened.

- Idiot!
- Bad business, John, bad business.

- Was the Duke hurt?
- Hurt?

He didn't even land.

He just sent a few
troops ashore to see

what would happen,
saw and sailed away again.

- Where to?
- Nobody knows.

Ireland! I expect.

And Kent didn't riot as we hoped?

Not a soul.

- Bad, very bad.
- Appalling.

Appalling!

- Bernard.
- Sir?

- Tell the men to stand down.
- Certainly, sir.

Tell them the emergency's over,
they can go home.

- Yes, sir.
- Oh, and Bernard?

Yes, sir?

Have the linings removed from those coats.

Of course, sir.

I have very bad news.

Oh... What?

I said I have very bad news.

Oh. I'm extremely sorry.

- Nothing in the family, I hope?
- No, no, no.

- From Rome.
- Huh!

Wouldn't expect anything but bad news
from that sink of impiety.

Radigo is talking.

- Who?
- Radigo.

The first... man we approached.

Oh, yes... Oh, good Lord!
Here, we can't have that!

No, and there's something else.
Master John wants more money.

He says what we gave him
was only a first payment.

- That's outrageous!
- He's threatening to come here

- and bring stuff with him.
- No!

Yes! I suggest that you send Bernard,
posthaste, to deal with both of them!

Mm, but how?

Well, Master John did for that Turk
very successfully

and we still want the stuff.

Yes, yes.

I'll send Bernard at once.

Any news of the merchant?

Merchant? What merchant?

The merchant!

- The Merchant of Ruby.
- Shh!

- The code has been betrayed.
- Well, what do we call him?

- The Edinburgh Burgess.
- Oh.

Why?

He couldn't do any business in Ireland, so
he's gone to Scotland to try his luck there.

I see.

Good, my Lord, good.
That will be safe enough.

Erm, who is that odd-looking man
with the Archdeacon of Paul's?

Sir John Kendal, Your Majesty,
Grand Prior of the Knights of St. John.

Oh...

Him. Mm.

- Who?
- Bernard de Vignolles, sir.

Never heard of him, send him away.

He says it's about Sir
John Kendal's business.

What?! I thought
we were rid of him!

What am I supposed to be doing for him?

Killing the King, sir.

Oh, yes,
and half the population of England.

- All right, send him in!
- Yes, sir.

- Oh, very pretty.
- What? I said no one was to enter!

This is a most delicate piece of magic.

If something goes wrong, it could
contaminate the whole city of Rome.

But the whole city of Rome
is thoroughly contaminated already.

Tell me, how's your work
for Sir John Kendal coming?

Coming? It has come. As soon
as I have finished this little task,

I am off to Spain.

Oh. Not to England?

Ah... I'm going to Spain
just for a short time.

Er, to Compostela, disguised as a friar
on a pilgrimage to St. James,

it's just to put them off the scent.

- Put who off?
- Them.

In Compostela,
I shall join a band of English pilgrims

and return with them to England.

Ingenious, no? And safe, very safe.

I am very sorry, you can't come to England.
Sir John Kendal fears your, er...

your foreignness
may attract attention to you.

But it's too late, my mind is made up.
And there is my disguise.

I have had some teeth specially made,
of ivory.

Cost a fortune, I can tell you.

I have...

I have had them stained
to look like my own teeth,

which was not easy because my teeth
have a color all their own.

Yes, quite. Well, I'm sure
they'll come in useful some time.

But Sir John Kendal is quite definite,
you can't come to England.

Then how does he
expect me to kill his King?

Does he think I work
on an astral plain?

Well, yes! Don't you?

Well, yes, of course I do! It's just I have
constructed this particular murder

so that my physical
presence is required.

I can't alter everything
because of some whim.

- It is not a whim. It is an order.
- An order?

But he understands it will cause you
some extra difficulty,

so he is prepared to pay you your rather
unexpected demand for more money.

You realize I will have to alter
the whole computation.

Oh, but of course.

How long will it take?

A month, perhaps two.
We are in Venus

which is not a propitious
time for mathematics.

In fact I'm not sure I can do it at all.

Master John, you realize that if you refuse
to complete the work

after having received so
much money already,

some people will say it is because...
you can't?

By the way, your colleague, Dr. Radigo,
forgot his Hippocratic oath.

- What?
- Yes, he could have endangered many lives

in England and here.

These so-called pure scientists!

- "Could have"?
- Oh...

Yes, I shall be writing to Sir John Kendal
about him this evening.

- What shall I tell him about you?
- Me?

Your work.

Oh, you must tell Sir Johnny...
it is the incantation.

If I am not to be there...

If I am not to be there, it requires
a completely different set of spirits.

Oh, you mean some spirits
are more reliable than others?

Of course. I hope you're not a skeptic.

Er, oh, no, no.

Good. I'm going to give you
something for Sir John

which could turn very nasty
in the hands of a non-believer.

In fact, he could find himself
with no hands at all.

What is it?

- The ointment.
- The ointment.

The amalgam is the same whoever uses it.
Only the demons have to be changed.

Is that all?

All? "Is that all?" he says.

That box contains years of research,
months of extremely arduous preparation,

weeks of hard labor, days of conjuring,
hour upon hour of summoning spirits.

That box contains the finest achievement
of my entire astrological career!

Wonderful! But, er... how does it work?

You must warn Sir John he is
on no account to open this

until he receives written
instructions from me,

naming the day and hour most favorable -
or for those concerned, unfavorable -

stars and planets.

I see.

How does it work?

I can't tell you
exactly what to do.

Surprise
is one of the main elements of the scheme.

The idea is simple. The manufacture,
of course, was far from simple.

Yes, so you said. But how does it work?

In essence, you must smear the ointment

round the doorway through which
the King will shortly pass,

repeat the incantation,
and when he passes through

all those who love him
most loyally and dearly,

will fall upon him and kill him.

Brilliant, is it not?

Dazzling.

Hm.

Oh!

Ohh!

So perish all traitors.

He's got it.

I knew you'd be pleased.

Who has got what?

Bernard, it.

- Who?
- Bernard. Bernard de Vignolles.

Uncle just had a letter from him,
from Rome.

He'll be here any day, with it.

But what is "it"?

The ointment.

Ointment? I never ordered any ointment.

The ointment for...

- What's the matter?
- Shh! I'm praying.

- What for?
- Guidance.

Oh. Uncle says...

Sir John. I must tell you that I think
your uncle is an exceedingly foolish man.

- Well, everybody knows that.
- Sending you here.

Doesn't he know it's extremely unlucky
to discuss this sort of thing in a church?

You can't trust anybody these days,
not even your own acolytes.

The crypt is full of peculiar people
pretending to be pilgrims.

And when 2 or 3 are gathered together,
these days they're planning mischief.

Really?

Uncle said to give you this letter.

Put it away!

Where do you think you are?

Whatever is the matter, Archdeacon?

Do you want me to be caught red-handed

with treasonable correspondence
in my own lady chapel?

- Do you think I'm mad?
- Well, no, but...

Don't you hear anything
out there at Millborn?

- What do you mean?
- From, er...

Who?

There are grave doubts about
the Burgess's creditworthiness.

Whose?

The Burgess. The Edinburgh Burgess.

- Oh...
- There are rumors of false coin.

Oh, really? I wonder what on earth
Uncle will say.

Tell your uncle to have no more dealings
with Scottish merchants.

But... But what about Bernard and it?

I shall pray for all of you.

- Oh, well, you can't just do that!
- Shh! Respect the holiness of this place!

Now look here!

Goodbye, Sir John.

You should have smelt it! I swear,
the room wasn't habitable for two days.

- Still, you should have kept it.
- Not on your life. Suppose it worked.

Oh... It was evidence.

The King likes to have all the evidence.

Yes, well, I'm afraid this time
he'll just have to take my word for it.

Besides, what does it matter?
Everyone knows Sir John Kendal is mad.

And his nephew?

Oh, he just follows his uncle around
waiting for him to die.

He's the sole heir, you know.

All the other nephews
have been disinherited

for some ridiculous reason or another.

No, John is no danger.

And the archdeacon.
He is most strongly suspected

of having had dealings
with Sir William Stanley.

- Oh...
- No plot, however far-fetched,

is entirely negligible, Bernard.

You should have kept the ointment.

Well, I didn't,
and it's past retrieving now.

What are you going to tell Kendal
when you see him?

I was hoping not to see him.

I was hoping to be offered
slightly more realistic work.

I see.

Well, I'm afraid I must disappoint you.

My instructions are
that you are to continue

with the valuable
work you are doing

until the business is
satisfactorily concluded.

But it never will be!

Sir John's reaction to the ointment
when he gets it could be very instructive.

- But I have thrown it away.
- Then we'll have to make some more.

What do we need, do you think?

Oh, Saturn in the
favorable aspect of Mars, a rat's tail,

two spoonfuls of a toad's brain,
collected at night,

at full moon, by a one-eyed black cat!

And a great deal of ignorance,
finely powdered with credulity.

What did it look like?

Black and greasy and awful.

Hm. Well, what about soot
mixed with earth and water,

a little mutton grease and mercury?

Yes, that should do it.

But you will never get the smell.

What do I do, did you say?

Smear it round the framework of a door,
sir.

Whereupon all the King's closest friends

are filled with an uncontrollable desire
to murder him.

As he has murdered in his madness
and wickedness

some of the finest flowers
of English chivalry.

Precisely, sir. Now, instructions
as to the correct smearing technique

and the exact moment
at which smearing should commence

will be forwarded
from Master John when

he has the correct
celestial conditions.

Oh, what miracles are still done
in the Lord's name.

But there are two
conditions attached to the

ointment itself,
of which I should tell you, sir.

- Conditions?
- Yes, first, it is extremely dangerous

for anyone who has evil plans to touch it.

Unless he follows Master John's
instructions to the letter,

- he may be seriously contaminated.
- Contaminated?

Yes, and the other condition
is even more difficult.

There's a grave risk, amounting almost
to certainty of death

if the ointment is kept
in the same house as

anyone with evil plans
for more than 22 hours.

But-But Bernard,
you've had it all

this time, and you're all right.

Ah! But I don't plan to use it
for evil purposes, sir.

As a carrier, I am myself immune.

Oh, Uncle, it, er...
it does sound very unsafe.

Tommy could look after it for us,
Sir Thomas Tyrrel.

Oh, no, we couldn't give it to him,
he's part of it, isn't he?

Besides, do we really need it now, Uncle?

- I mean, the Edinburgh Burgess...
- Who? Oh, yes.

What of him, Sir John?

He's been disowned by the emperor,
by everyone. Except the King of Scotland.

It seems there are
genuine doubts as to his...

Quite.

I've never seen the boy myself.
If I did, I'd know at once.

Well, sir, there's the ointment.

I think I have discharged my
duty to the best of my ability.

You certainly have, Bernard.

Now, sir, I must ask you if I can have
your permission to return to France.

My father is ill, he wants me to help
in his business.

- Oh...
- Also, I incurred rather greater expenses

on my journey to Rome and back
than I anticipated.

I hope Sir John won't mind
if I ask him to reimburse me.

- Now look here, Bernard...
- I killed Radigo.

But you know, on a project of this sort,

there is always one tongue more
than you can silence

unless you are prepared
to silence it yourself

and I don't think you
would like that, Sir John.

No.

No, Bernard, I see.

Good, Sir John.

Perhaps you'd better
go and see your father.

Yes, I think it would be better.

- Bernard!
- Sir?

It seems to me that Master John's
been trying to make a fool of me.

This stuff's more dangerous to me
than it is to the King.

I can't keep it myself and I can't give it
to anyone to keep it for me.

- I think you can, sir.
- Oh, no, no.

There are spies everywhere.

They poke and pry.

My good Lord, suppose I came to you
and said, "Be a good fellow,

"look after something for me,
just a pot of ointment," hm?

What would you think? I'll tell you,
you'd think there was something fishy.

The Grand Prior of the Knights
of St. John of Jerusalem

hiding a pot of ointment
with Bernard de Vignolles?

Have to tell somebody about this.

No, no, can't be done.

Perhaps you'd better
just throw it away, Uncle.

Seems a shame but yes,
I think perhaps we had, Bernard.

- Very good, sir.
- Thank you, Bernard.

You're a good, loyal fellow.
I'm very grateful to you.

Give me your account
and I'll settle it in full.

Benedictus benedicat.

Thank you, de Vignolles.

You'll put it all in writing, please.

Everything, sir?

Everything.

You will find a secretary
in the next chamber.

- Shall I have them arrested, your Grace?
- Oh, no, no, I don't think so.

We don't want the kingdom
brought into ridicule.

Well, Kendal and Tong are ridiculous,
but Hussey...

Hussey is aptly named.

A mischievous man in skirts.

He wears the same
canonical garments as I do.

I meant no offence, it was a play on words.

Oh... Very apt, your Grace.

I thought it was.

Hussey is the Archdeacon of St. Paul's.

Whatever amusement you find in his clothes,
he is highly placed.

He need go no higher.

Treason among the clergy
is the worst treason of all.

Why? Because they're disloyal to you
as well as to me?

Because they're disloyal to God!

Well, if you suspect heresy or blasphemy or
anything of that kind, Morton, that's serious.

But if I were in your place
I'd be more concerned about his stupidity.

The Church must be in a poor state
if a man like that can rise so high.

The country is in a poor state while Warbeck
remains in Scotland, and his followers...

His followers are no danger.
I wish all our enemies were such fools.

Will you let them go on playing treason?
They may do it in earnest one day.

Mm... The risk seems small.

- And it would mean another trial.
- Yes, but...

We've had too many trials.
Let them be.

Very well.

But keep them watched.

And let's make sure
we have it all down on paper.

Yes, Your Majesty.

You never know,
it might come in useful one day.