You weep?
- No, be still. - Yes, Milord.
Milord. Milord speaks and all obey.
Is that not what you want?
I want you to be free to go or stay as you will.
But I fear you'd go, so...
Look at me!
I have the right to take you.
I have the right.
You want me to go?
Go... back to your pigs,
your strange, damn people,
your death-sucking bees, yes!
Go, and let me go.
Go!
Wait.
I want...
I need you as I need breath...
sunshine, fire in winter.
Bother...
That's what festers.
I want my life in you.
It's truth.
It goes beyond the blood, fever, and the flesh.
It's sacred for a highborn man to begin your life.
BRONWYN: Are you afraid of me?
I cast no spells.
CHRYSAGON: Better if you did.
Spells can be broken.
Milord, l, too, am bewitched.
You. You had them hold me!
ODINS: Or see you cut to pieces.
MARC: Better that! MAN: And all the rest of us?
He's got my wife.
He's touching her.
My God, he's touching my wife!
Bear it, my son.
Slaves have no sons!
Who took my mother from you, coward?
Who's my father?
Toughen up your heart.
If she'd been gored by an ox, you'd tend her.
Try and forget the pain.
Who knows her better than you?
She's yours.
Since she was little, it was always Marc.
I couldn't sleep. It's cold out there.
I feel rheumaticky.
DRACO: Good Father...
you have pointy ears...
you have sneaky eyes...
eyes that lie in your stomach.
I couldn't sleep either.
We are all of us, good Father, made of the coarsest clay.
You, me, my stern and glorious brother up there in bed...
though I'm sure he isn't sleeping.
I wonder whether the louse wasn't created...
on the sixth day with man.
You, too, are a party to it.
And undeserving of the frock I wear.
But you see, Milord, l, too, am a man...
and a louse.
Stand to attention!
You are a guard of honor!
The sun... like every other day.
You cried out last night.
I put my fingers to your lips, and you slept again.
I dreamt of my father.
He died when he came home and found his lands sold for ransom.
And I took up arms for the Duke.
He died in two halves.
First his right side, then his left.
He had me set my hands between his...
dead hand and his live one
and swear to keep his faith with the Duke.
I swore to protect my brother,
to recover our lands...
But he was already dead.
From under his right hand, I took that sword.
I've lived 20 years with that cold wife.
And off his dead finger, I took this ring.
What are you doing?
Milord, it's dawn.
CHRYSAGON: They won't take you.
Not the Duke, nor the devil, nor all...
It could never, never be.
[Thud]
It's daylight in the swamps... or did you notice?
You look as though your fever's gone.
The elder... what's his name, Odins... waits for her below.
Don't you hear me, Chrysagon?
It's over now.
I'll talk to him.
That old clown? Let him howl.
But there was an understanding with the Duke.
You've forgotten?
"Keep their good will," he said.
I'll not give her up.
I can't.
First, you run stallion-mad and trample our lives to pieces...
My life is my own.
Dear lord and brother,
you are the Duke's most favorite jewel, his cosset.
Through you, comes everything.
All we have, and we must have something!
You've had the grain out of my horse's mouth,
new armor that should have clothed my men.
Their blood paid for your fineries!
CHRYSAGON: My blood, too.
Bounty from the wars, each favor of the Duke,
I gave to you, all to you, wantoning at court,
while I sweated inside that damn, dirty armor 20 years!
I've had nothing. Nothing! Nothing!
You are our lord!
You cannot be a slave of a slave!
It sets the whole world turvy!
[Kicks door]
And look at her, this flower face,
the sister of pigs!
This blazing whore.
That naked strumpet wears our father's ring!
Then honor it... and her!
She is mine.
You are bewitched.
You've had her... now keep her.
And may your soul be damned for it.
ODINS: Where is she?
He speaks of love, the sort of thing that songs are made of.
ODINS: Well?
He's not yet tired of his toy.
I must see Lord Chrysagon.
Don't ever touch me1
BORS: What are you waiting for?
Can't you see it's over?
Where is she?
Father... what I said last night... I'm sorry.
He had the right.
But now I have her back, l...
He keeps her!
No! Don't tell me of his rights!
He has none. Not now.
What can you do?
Do you want to be cut down?
They are warriors, boy.
You won't get by the door!
MARC: I have a sickle.
I killed a boar in the marsh.
I can kill a horse and a man.
ODINS; You'll never kill him, boy.
Killing's his trade; he was born to it.
MARC: I'll sink my sickle in his chest like a hook in beef.
I liked him.
You know that I liked him?
Norman or no, he seemed a man. I'd have served him.
I raged last night.
I thought, "Well, he's higher than I am, better."
And she...
I'll strangle him in his own stinking guts.
But not alone.
Hark to what I told you.
Go over the water to the Frisians.
Take the boat in the fen, bring them back with you.
Why should they help us?
Because this half-sized Norman says they will?
No, you ditch dog...
for the boy I told you of, the boy I took.
He's a prince of those people.
If they know he's in that tower,
they'll take it down stone by stone to have him back.
A Frisian prince?
He told you that?
These did.
Take that to them.
I'll keep this to be a lord in.
ODINS: Go then, my son.
It can't be mended without blood.
I'll be back within the week.
She'll escape him somehow,
no matter how close he keeps her.
Old woman, take it in.
[Thunder]
Where are the men from the village to work in the moat?
None came today, Lord.
Yesterday, only two.
The village elder, I haven't seen him...
[Thunder]
[Falcon cries]
CHRYSAGON: It's cold.
My love, you're shivering.
Do you know the stars?
CHRYSAGON: My father taught me to find my way by them.
I know only this village.
An now, only this tower.
CHRYSAGON: Do you want to go back?
I can't leave you.
CHRYSAGON: I know.
Worlds wider than this tower, I do know that road.
There's a place, a far place where I can carry you.
When?
Please? When?
CHRYSAGON: When all's done here.
I must hold this place awhile yet... for the Duke.
[Dogs barking]
The Frisians. They're back.
[Ring]
[Dogs bark]
[Horses whinny]
CHRYSAGON: Tybald, get water to the roof.
Break some stones from the parapet.
BORS: Away!
MAN: War lord!
War lord!
The boy... or we cut your Norman throats!
Has the whole village joined them?
Nearly all, I fear, Milord, God save their souls.
Isn't that your falconer, the little man?
Volc, too.
DRACO: So, Sir Flea has deserted us.
Oh, well. Small loss, eh, Brother?
MAN: War lord!
The boy! My son!
DRACO: Your son, is he?
You gave my father back for a bucketful of gold pieces.
The same for your son, then, or take him without his head!
Can you put enough edge on that to cut your way out of this?
Oh, I know we're all safe in your strong hand...
and do but trust in you and all will yet be well, huh?
Lie here with your wench, then, Sir Chrysagon de la Cruex...
until those pirates pull the Duke's tower into the swamp.
Draco, what would you do if you break the Duke's faith...
I break his faith?
You're the lord of this place.
"Hold it well," he told you.
And where are the dogs you hold it for?
Waiting outside your door with pitchforks.
- But you... - What, Brother?
DRACO: Will you chop me with this great sword?
Well, it might be.
You're a tall, strong man.
Or I might chop you.
Neither way would make you right.
Now! Open it!
My brother's ridden for help... to the Duke.
It's ready!
Bow the tower doors.
Now!
We need a grappling hook.
BORS: There is none.
Milord!
BORS: The boat!
It could have an anchor.
Get me a rope!
Take a turn around that post.
- Not you, Bors. - Why not?
I would as soon die a wet death as a dry one.
[Banging on door]
Steady.
Pull!
BORS: Hold! Hold!
BORS: Pull!
Pull, your heathen guts!
PRIEST: Will help soon come from Ghent?
Help?
Aye, if the Duke wills it'll come, soon or late.
But... but will it be in time?
Ha! Look, ye priest...
if they rise early, move fast, and find us alive,
then it will be in time.
Hmm!
CHRYSAGON: Up now.
Come on. Up!
Get ready.
Water!
CHRYSAGON: It's no use. We'll go below.
Barricade the stairs! If they overrun us down here...
[Pounding on door]
The horses!
Hah! Hah!
- Pour the oil! - Oil!
CHRYSAGON: Block that doorway. They haven't finished.
[Caw Caw]
CHRYSAGON: Tybald... sound the bell.
[Ring]
Now!
Go!
BORS: It's Draco with thunder!
PRIEST: Milord!
Ha Ha Ha!
Lord Draco.
DRACO: Hmm.
CHRYSAGON: Draco!
Our savior.
Oh, not yet. Those wild men are still in the woods.
They won't leave while we hold the boy.
DRACO: The can't take him now... so they must buy him.
Our dearest Duke gave me more than the men I saved you with.
He promised me half the gold our captive princeling brings.
Ransom?
Ho ho ho!
So the world turns, Brother.
As his father held ours, so we hold him.
We could sell him a pound at a time.
Mmm. Pity he's so small.
Well, any ear should do to show we are honest traders.
CHRYSAGON: Draco, let be.
I've had a bellyful of blood over this.
"Let be," is it?
Oh, no, Brother.
My glorious brother, no more.
The Duke's had a bellyful, too.
When I told him of the devil's brew you stirred up,
he gave me your holding here.
Did I say it was a turning world?
You are lord here?
I am.
That little insect is mine to kill, maim, ransom as I see fit.
This village is mine.
As for the clods in it...
they'll find what rebellion brings.
I'll give them empty sleeves and wooden legs...
- For what I did? - Lf you like, Brother.
Carry it all on your broad back, your sins and mine.
Carry them to a monkery and pray your way to God's grace.
Or go to hell.
I've been there.
Then go on a quest for the Holy Grail, and take that with you.
But first, my father's ring.
- The ring, I say! - Draco!
Shall I take her finger with it?
I can't fight you, Draco.
Then I'll fight you.
Ahh!
Why?
While I ate the bread you earned in the wars...
and rode the horse you gave me...
and lived in the shadow of your sickening righteousness...
because the Duke smiled on you...
Well, he's not smiling now.
Now I hold this place!
And you'll all swear your fealty to me.
Not while Milord lives.
Then your lord shall die.
This thing must be settled.
Draco.
I swear to you, Draco.
I swear by my father's...
Ring!
If you prefer butchery to combat,
then butchery it shall be.
Draco!
My glorious brother...
Draco.
[Crash]
Come, boy.
Keep her with you... here.
Milady.
[Sounds horn]
[Frisians whooping and hollering]
Wait! Hold!
[Cheering]
For this gift of my son, I'll give you all I can...
rank, riches, land.
Cross the water with us.
No.
Why "no"?
Go with him.
You and she get clear of this mess.
I can't give up this place.
This place is no longer yours to give up.
It was Draco's for a moment.
The Duke will send another lord...
to do what Draco promised,
and what will you do to save her then?
Kill him... and then the next?
And then the Duke himself?
If you'd give mi... milady sanctuary...
FRISIAN: My roof is hers.
CHRYSAGON: I'll bring her.
BORS: You send her to the Frisians.
Such fierce nobility, hmm?
And then what?
CHRYSAGON: I go to the Duke.
BORS: The Duke? Why, to make ghosts of us?
CHRYSAGON: To put what right all I've set wrong here.
BORS: You talk like a ballad singer.
Do penance? Plead for these marsh rabbits?
The Duke will have your head on a pole and mine along with it.
CHRYSAGON: Don't go, then, Bors.
You get free of this.
Your father sent me to ride at your back...
when you were too small to reach the saddle.
God help me, I've ridden too many miles there to leave now.
Bronwyn!
[Horse whinnies]
Bronwyn!
Listen to me.
I can't take you to that... that far place.
Not for a while.
I'll be with you... always, wherever you go.
So you go now to the North.
No! I want to stay with you.
CHRYSAGON: No, you can't. I have to stay here.
If you go, I go, too.
You stand up... now...
and go, and we both go.
Oh, Bors. I'm tired.
I hurt.
Rainault!
Hold this place till... till I come back.
You hold it well.