Original subtitles

BLOOD IN THE FLOUR

Part One

Stop!

Give it up, sir, enough frolicking with my men.

Whoever you are, you will pay for this.

It will cost me less than you,

as it will cost you your life.

Where are the King's documents?

Come, we will know where to look ourselves.

In your saddle bags, or on your dead body.

May I at least know at whose hands I die at?

No, sir, you may not!

They said not to give you that pleasure.

You have been a thorn in their side for quite some time.

Goodbye, sir.

Well, we seem to have got you out of a tough spot!

Such warm acknowledgment! Such overwhelming gratitude!

Such intense thanks!

It's like an almost unbearable burden on my shoulders!

It's just that your sudden rescue

intrigues me just as much as that sudden attack, sir.

Those are strange words, coming from a trespasser.

Do you have any idea as to the motives behind this?

Not in the slightest.

Who are you and who do you work for?

Those two questions are not important right now.

I'm a non-entity, sir, and I work for nobody.

I do have a mission, however.

To get you safely to Versailles,

where the Foreign Affairs Minister, Mr Vergennes,

awaits with great impatience your news from Vienna.

They're hoping for good news, as here, alas...

This upheaval doesn't seem worth it to me.

Has it gone on for long?

For too long, truth be told.

Our Majesty is reluctant to see bloodshed,

and he refuses to send in troops, which, moreover, is unsafe.

They say that in order to protect their own interests,

some higher-ups are fuelling these agitations behind the scenes,

and that some of them are paying off military leaders.

Bloody hell!

My mission ends where that of the King's household begins.

But who are you, sir?

Nobody, sir! Nobody!

Till next time!

We want to see the King!

Well, Marquis, what news from Austria?

Nothing that any other messenger

couldn't have delivered in my place.

I understand, my friend,

but his Majesty requested you personally.

Hand it over, Marquis.

Impossible, Mr Secretary of State.

Impossible?

As I feared an ambush, I memorised it by heart,

thus making one sole message and messenger.

Immediately send for a minister who can take dictation.

It's the same, worn-out story,

the Famine Pact.

The King, by his own edicts, out of his own interests,

is desperately trying to starve the people.

That pact did much damage at the end of Louis XV's reign.

And here it is, reappearing again,

at the time of Turgot's furious reformations.

As if the kingdom needed such agitation,

when there is no firm hand to take hold of the reins.

What about his Majesty?

His Majesty, alas, has fewer friends than enemies,

among whom is his own cousin, the Prince of Conti.

And the worst of his enemies is he himself.

Perhaps we should sit, this could take a long time.

Oh, Nicolas!

These past two months felt like a century to me!

Well, you're back now, my dear!

How I missed the city!

The city has properly stunk since you left.

The kingdom, too.

Enough about that!

I know a certain somebody who needs a bath!

Heat the water then! Go heat the water!

Nicolas...

What is it, my friend?

A strange event took place last night.

What event, sir?

You know that I rent out part of my services quarters

to a certain Mourut, a master baker by trade.

The man is prominent in his guild and he receives much custom.

Tell the Commissioner what you told me.

Our master left the house last night,

dressed in his finest clothes.

Last night, we heard him return to the bakery...

and this morning, he didn't come out.

As it's Sunday today, it didn't seem suspicious...

But you're worried for him.

Yes, of course.

Even his wife didn't see him come back.

Mr Mourut?

Mr Mourut?

Mr Mourut?

Mr Mourut?

Come here, tell me if this is your master.

There is no doubt, Nicolas,

that is indeed Mr Mourut.

Go wait outside, lads.

Well, what is the opinion of Châtelet's best man?

You don't seem at all shocked by his demise.

After hearing you were at Versailles,

I preferred to await your return rather than unleash the hounds.

But as soon as the two lads told me,

I felt a sense of foreboding.

Look at this.

The grain market only takes place twice per week,

on Wednesdays and Saturdays,

but Mourut was receiving more of it.

The flour arrived secretly at night,

via tarpaulin-covered carts.

Some sort of trafficking?

Would that be a motive for murder?

I don't want to get involved...

Would you give me a hand, just until Bourdeau gets here?

Gladly, Nicolas.

This reminds me of not too long ago,

when I myself was in the police,

if you take "not too long ago" to mean centuries ago.

- Got him? - Yes, just a second...

Put him back down.

"Eulalie, 'G' House, rue des Deux Portes Saint Sauveur."

Does that mean anything to you, your Honour?

Unless it's one "La Gourdan", a so-called Duchess

who has not long lived at that address,

and who is most discreet,

then I don't know.

This kind of note is used to allow for entry.

Most discreet...

Would you happen to go there, sir?

Everyone worth a damn goes there!

Would it be best to pardon men

for their weaknesses as well as their strengths?

Mourut had his fair share.

Do they need to be made public, now he has passed?

Should one see, in your condolence, the curious effect

of a sort of solidarity between sinners?

Think what you like, Nicolas!

Come on, turn over so I can wash your front.

I've a message for you, Nicolas!

Miss Catherine!

"Who do you think you are mocking, sir?

I should really be quite solicitous..."

Suspicious...

"I should really be quite suspicious,

since you assured me of your fidelity.

Two months will have already gone by

since your departure.

Who is holding you back in Vienna?

Who will hold me back at Versailles?"

Aimée of Arranette!

Arranet...

She's a fiery one, she won't be fooled easily.

I hate her already, the little...

I understand your helplessness.

However, this letter was only written three days ago.

Perhaps you'll still have time tomorrow.

Tomorrow? You don't know her.

I do know her,

just not as intimately as you!

Thank you.

Have you finished noting your findings?

Yes, and I have the floor plans.

I also gave instructions to transport the body

to the prison morgue.

Has the deceased left any next-of-kin?

A young widow, whom, in her shop front,

many think to be quite the looker,

but who did not supply him with any offspring.

Also, a baker boy who lodged there with his own money.

And then the two lads we saw.

Make sure to question all of them,

with guards present, at the scene,

but wait till tomorrow.

Tomorrow? But wouldn't it be best...

Tomorrow.

I am going to once again plead a case that is dear to me.

My own.

That's love, my friend!

That's love!

What do you know of love?

Not much, I'm a married man!

You're finally here, Marquis.

We were waiting so long, we were about to give up.

My time belongs to the King, of whom I am not the master.

I doubt the Countess will stand for such nonsense...

Can you announce my arrival, Tribord?

No need, Tribord.

I heard his horse galloping on the courtyard gravel.

I recognised the impetuousness of the man who was arriving.

I was about to say my prayers and go to bed...

Such haste!

Such eagerness, such ardour!

You're nothing but a charmer!

However,

before you accomplish your ends,

I intend to make you apologise for a long, long time.

It was about time you reappeared.

Your absence was pressuring me into being unfaithful...

A handsome officer, a Navy gunner...

Big, and most handsome,

with very somber eyes...

who takes without asking.

Big hands,

and a rigid, inflexible manner.

A look that goes right through you, as if he didn't see you.

A man who you can immediately tell

has already lived a thousand deaths.

Nicolas...

So, my dearest friend...

have I convinced you?

Convinced me of what?

Of your constancy, as much as your fidelity?

"Eulalie, 'G' House, rue des Deux Portes Saint Sauveur?"

Right...

And where did you find that?

Where it was found, in one of your pockets!

So, did you get a thrill, going through my pockets?

Do you frequent brothels now?

Give it here.

I was an idiot to trust you.

- Give it here! - Take it!

I never want to see you again!

I hate you, Marquis.

I hate you and I never want to see you again!

I don't want to see you either!

The King stole her bread!

You harbour an upset air, Nicolas.

Did your lady friend leave you in the lurch?

I had to make many detours in order to safely reach Paris.

Discontent rises as the rumours swell.

Well, here's our agenda.

Sanson, the executioner, has informed us

that he is ready to perform, without delay, Mr Mourut's autopsy.

Good.

He fears the victim's stout build will only hasten the decomposition.

He wishes our friend Semacgus assist in the operation.

Also, Mourut's widow and the two young baker's boys

are still being kept at the house,

but the third baker's boy, Mr Denis Caminet, remains unfound.

Why, may I ask?

He hasn't returned to the house,

but we're continuing to look for him.

And finally, the Police Lieutenant-General

wants to talk to you right away.

You finally returned, Commissioner.

I must admit that these foreign missions,

though done at the King's request, do not thrill me at all.

Me neither, rest assured, but those are the King's wishes.

Wishes? Whims, more like.

Well, what does it matter, you're back now.

Take a seat, Commissioner, you're making me feel dizzy.

This Mr Mourut, are we dealing with a murder?

As far as proceedings go, it's too early to say, sir.

I understand this took place in the house next door

to Noblecourt House, where you reside.

Yes, but that is merely incidental, it has nothing to do with it.

Nothing to do with it? How certain are you of that?

Not very.

The man was found dead in his bakery.

The aforementioned room was double-locked from the inside,

with the key in the lock.

Presuming this could be a crime, the body was taken to the morgue

in order to proceed with an autopsy.

With our findings noted down

and the witnesses kept under house arrest,

we can later move on to interrogate them...

Later? Now we've come to the heart of the matter!

Presuming this to be a crime,

isn't it strange we don’t question them now?

What pressing considerations will postpone the executions?

Considerations of pure commodity, sir.

I guess nature has its reasons that reason doesn't know.

The affair comes at a bad time, however.

We could consider Mourut's disappearance

as a minor event of little significance,

but we need to quell any rumours.

The masses have been murmuring

since Turgot's ideas were published.

I saw that as I came in, in fact.

The people are rallying and protesting.

Yes, but I see something else.

"People" are insinuating the masses are facing a famine,

and that the government is speculating with grain

in order to clear the King's debts.

- Who are these "people"? - I don't know, I'm afraid.

What we do know, from what we've been told,

is that these people, unknown to all,

are working to sow discord

by using emotionally-charged rhetoric

to stir up the least well-informed, those most ready to explode.

What would you have me do?

I want you to get the upper hand in this affair.

There are shadows which threaten the King's safety.

Investigate everywhere and by any means,

in order to foil this plot.

- Is that true? - There really is a plot.

You are aware of parliament's war against the King?

They say, behind the scenes,

this is to force the King to reunite the Estates-General.

We are sailing into troubled waters...

This man is robust with a heavy complexion.

The preliminary examination did not reveal

any lesions or suspicious marks.

Allow me, however, to moderate my approval of your proposition.

There is a strange, necrotic wound on the right hand.

It could be an unattended graze, a minor laceration,

some swelling with a slight effusion...

I'd say this body has lived a life of hard graft.

You are undoubtedly right.

However, let us note the facts.

He didn't die from suffocation,

but the face shows signs of a violent asphyxiation.

Actually, it would be fanciful to determine the exact causes,

and as a consequence,

to confirm or deny whether this was a murder.

It's an almost impossible effort, I regret to say.

Almost impossible?

Define "almost".

The heart and blood vessels are damaged,

the lungs show there was a sudden event

which caused the asphyxia, which stopped the heart,

or both things could have happened.

The cause of this, alas, eludes us.

Could it be poison?

Nothing in the stomach seems to indicate this.

What right does this copper have to say who comes and goes?

That goes for both me and my Lady!

Take us to her, your feigned anger is unbecoming.

You! I know you often visit Mr Noblecourt.

Yes...

Is it true that our master has passed on?

Take me to your Lady, please.

So, Mourut is dead...

One cannot begin to imagine the pain you must feel.

If there's one thing I hate more than lies...

it's deceit.

Do you deny the effect I'm having on you?

Not at all, Madam.

That's not the question.

But it is, actually.

I believe you have seen Mr Mourut's body?

You suspect my own...

Our union was one of pure indulgence.

Mourut got what he wanted, and so did I.

If he's dead, too bad.

Though, through this outcome, perhaps I also got what I wanted.

Were you already aware...

of the status of his will?

I tried many times to enquire after it.

Alas, just like his notary,

Mr Mourut was always as silent as the grave...

with regards to the contents of his will.

Will that be all, Commissioner?

Not at all.

Did you know...

Mr Mourut trafficked grain?

I did not.

I also had no reason to know.

My job was just to work the shop front.

This role for me suited him,

as I did it very well.

I can imagine, Madam.

Mr Mourut had three baker's boys.

Two of them were kept in the basement,

and the third one,

he was allowed to stay in your own home,

one Denis Caminet.

How do you justify such...

I have nothing to justify, sir.

Those were steps taken by my husband.

Perhaps it would be best to pose that question to him...

although I imagine he wouldn't be in the mood to talk.

Where is the young Caminet, Madam?

I have no idea, sir. Why do you ask?

Do you miss him?

You will remain under house arrest.

You are forbidden from coming and going

outside of your own home.

Good day.

How the mighty have fallen!

She had a good thing going, with her fur coats and carriages!

I sense she's a lively one, Nicolas.

You don't seem to like her.

She's an arrogant wretch.

The way she carries on with that apprentice...

The apprentice? Caminet?

Yes.

Nothing seems to get by you in this house.

I know more secrets than a dog in a brothel!

But to get me to talk,

I need a big, juicy bone.

What do you want to know that's worth so much?

What kind of man was your master?

He worked hard to make himself poor,

he had a knack for increasing his debts

and was ferocious in recovering in assets.

And the two baker's boys?

Tongues wag about those two,

some complain about them, others revile them.

People gossip about them, and deplore their camaraderie.

The oldest is too attentive of the younger one.

It wouldn't take much, a few words or a denouncement,

then they'd be in trouble.

And you, have you ever...

Denounced them? No, sir.

Visit them yourselves,

in the hole that serves as their cell.

Undoubtedly, you will think as I do,

if there's a shred of humanity in you.

I beseech you, Commissioner,

Alain and I aren't what they say we are!

Well, even if you were...

Is this where your master lodged you?

What can you tell me about the death of your master?

Saturday night, he came back...

Okay...

We heard the lock being opened...

then after that, the door was closed.

And then, the sound of horses and a carriage leaving.

It was like a horse-drawn hearse.

How old are you, my boy?

Nearly 14 years old, sir.

Have them taken to Châtelet...

Wait! Wait!

Please!

Take me, but leave my friend.

Take it.

- It's all we have. - Are you joking!

You have nothing to fear from me, as long as you tell the truth.

The truth...

This is unjust!

- I'll see you later. - Yes, sir.

Turn around slowly, Monk.

Hurry up!

Take off your hood.

Slowly, or I'll run you through!

You wouldn't do anything of the sort, sir.

You're not the kind of animal to kill in cold blood.

So it would seem, sir.

I order you to tell me who you are and who you work for.

I believe I have already told you I have been sworn to secrecy.

Only my master can reveal this to you.

Take me to him.

What right do you have to assign me a shadow?

Who do you want to protect me from?

As he neared Versailles, a gang tried to put an end to him.

It was us who put an end to them.

- Any idea who the attackers were? - No, none.

You'd be chatting with Saint Peter

if it weren't for the Chevalier's help.

Even his Majesty has no need for bodyguards.

Quite right, Nicolas, quite right.

The Monarch's security preoccupies me first and foremost.

I'm at the Naval Ministry, of course,

but nothing involving the King's security

is unknown to me.

Following the example of our English friends,

I want to create a squad of Navy gunners,

who will fight, at sea or on land, France's enemies.

The main role of this unit,

who would be specially trained and equipped,

would be to assure the security of the King and those close to him.

I see dark days ahead.

No need for prophecies, the rumours are enough to go by.

And no orders have been given to silence the ringleaders.

The King is in grave danger.

Even you, Commissioner.

Even you are in particular peril.

Behind your back, and against your wishes,

I decided to have you protected.

By this soldier, about whom I know nothing?

I met Chevalier Lastire

during a dinner

held by Fleet Admiral François de Berteuil,

the Count of Arranet,

father to young Aimée of Arranet.

This soldier, as you called him...

was recommended to the Naval Ministry,

that being me,

by your future father-in-law, of sorts.

His Majesty the King is awaiting you at Versailles.

Chevalier, accompany him.

Mr Sartine, let it be known that I am much obliged to you.

I did not note, at the Admiral's dinner,

your pipe smoke,

nor the constant, repugnant mania

you have for scratching your ankle.

Now, the presumptuousness

to extend a gloved hand when addressing a minister?

Sir Chevalier...

Are you a chevalier in title alone?

I did not know you had dealings with Admiral Arranet.

If you didn't know,

you shouldn't have it held against you.

I fear I had the young lady on my knee well before you did.

She was five years old,

I was a very young officer,

deployed to the Count's household by my father.

After her mother died, she took a particular shine to me.

It was I who taught the young lady how to ride a horse.

As it's on the way,

what do you say we stop off at Arranet House?

I say, Quarter-Master, are the winds picking up?

A mill was raided on this land, the miller was brutalised.

Gangs roam the countryside.

The Count is away, visiting the ports of Brittany.

As she's alone, the Lady wishes to move to her Saumur house.

Where is she? I want to see her right now.

Where?

In her room!

Miss!

The little Marquis...

If you're not here to make amends,

your presence here is not required.

Now is not the time for tall tales, they say you're going to Saumur!

Bloody hell!

You too, my old friend!

The man you've become pleases me greatly.

You know you're always welcome here.

That's enough, Madam.

Two men.

Two men who both long for you.

One with ardour and experience...

the other with impetuousness and force.

Should I be fulfilled as well as delighted?

I will not allow you to travel the countryside with so few men.

And by what right?

By right of loving you.

If you love me, why don't you accompany me?

You and Chevalier Lastire?

Between you two, what would I have to fear?

I can't, his Majesty sent for me at Versailles.

Well, if his Majesty sent for you...

And you, Lastire?

Who has sent for you?

Escort her, Chevalier.

You're of no use to me, you just have to...

make sure your master doesn't find out.

Upon reflection,

this doesn't seem to be a contradiction of my duties.

I have bad news, Marquis.

The gangs have blocked off the roads leading to Versailles.

They have sticks and stones for weapons,

some even have a few nasty-looking muskets.

You won't get through,

unless you want to run a terrible risk.

See, when you have nothing, only bread will save you.

Otherwise, you die, or it's the poorhouse.

It mustn't go up in price.

Two sous per pound is already too much.

And for that price,

you only get brown bread mixed with bran.

In Paris, that's not enough to eat your fill.

It takes sweat, toil and suffering

to earn this bad bread which gives us no sustenance.

If they rip out our throats...

And you, friend, what do you do?

I work for a printer's.

They want to poison us!

They want to poison us!

They've poisoned the bread!

See how they want to poison us!

Look at this mouldy bread!

Look at it! Come closer and take a look!

Look at this bread that they sell for two sous!

They starve and poison us!

Look at this bread! Look at the mould!

They mean to starve us!

They want to poison us!

Look at this! Look at it!

They want to poison us! Look...

Catch him!

Catch him! He's a spy! Catch him!

Catch him! Catch him!

Quick! Take me swiftly to the King!

- Dressed like that? - Quickly, I say!

- Do you think that wise? - Quickly!

Enough.

Follow me.

Well, Marquis...

Your speed does you justice.

What news do you bring from the capital?

They want to make the people think they're being poisoned.

This bread, it isn't mouldy.

It is merely coated with greasy, green paint.

Those who spread this news

do not belong to the popular order.

Is this some kind of plot?

That is certain, your Majesty.

Somebody in the kingdom

has taken an interest in reviving that damn Famine Pact.

Last night,

the Captain of the Guard, the Prince of Beauvau,

committed a blunder, which must quickly be corrected.

When pressed, he announced bread prices had gone up

by two sous per pound.

This approach is silly, I agree.

but Beauvau told me there was no middle ground

between fixing bread at the prices they're asking for,

and using the bayonets.

However, for me,

it is a question of restoring civil peace

with explicit orders

for my soldiers not to use their guns.

Does this damsel appear to your liking, Chevalier?

Quite so, Miss.

Quite so.

And the little Marquis...

The young Marquis...

it matters little if I reject him.

He is a stubborn breed,

he'll soon return with his tail between his legs.

Stop!

Let go of me!

Let me go!

Get off me!

Carry on, Chevalier, and I'll slit your throat.

You may have won the battle, Miss...

but know this,

you will not win the war!

SUBTITLES: RED BEE MEDIA FRANCE