Yes?
I wish to see Don Medina. My name...
I'm sorry, Don Medina is not receiving visitors at present.
You will announce that Mr. Francis Barnard
has come from England to see him.
What do you think you're doing?
Remove your hand, sir.
Maximillian.
What is it?
This gentleman demands to be admitted, Doña.
- I've told him... - You are Doña Medina?
I am.
I am Francis Barnard, Elizabeth's brother.
Oh.
I'm sorry.
Won't you come in, Mr. Barnard?
Please forgive me. I'm Catherine Medina.
Doña.
Will you not spend the night, Mr. Barnard?
I am certain that my brother would wish it.
Perhaps, Doña. May I see your brother now?
Uh...
He is resting.
He has not been well since the death.
I see. Well, when may I see him?
Perhaps at supper if you would do us the honor.
Very well. Supper.
May I visit my sister's grave, now?
Grave?
I presume there is one.
Not as such, Mr. Barnard.
She is interred below.
Oh?
A family custom, Mr. Barnard.
I see.
If we may go there, then?
Please follow me.
When did she die?
Your brother's letter made no mention of the date.
About three months ago.
Three months?! Why was I not notified sooner?
- I'm afraid I... - How did she die?
I know very little of the details, Mr. Barnard.
This is no longer my home, you see?
I left it several months before Nicholas married your sister.
Meaning you don't even...
What in the name of heaven?
What's that noise?
Please follow me, Mr. Barnard.
Not that way!
Mr. Barnard!
Who are you?
This is Mr. Barnard, Nicholas. Elizabeth's brother.
Oh, yes.
You are welcome, sir.
Resting, Doña Medina?
Sir?
I told Mr. Barnard that you were resting, Nicholas.
I thought that you were.
That noise, sir?
It is an apparatus, sir, that must be kept in constant repair.
What brings you to us?
Elizabeth was my sister, Don Medina.
I received a report of her untimely death,
a report which was utterly devoid of details.
What should I have done, remained in England?
Yes, you are quite right.
My apology, sir.
Shock and grief restrained me from more adequate communication.
You have every right to be provoked.
Perhaps you will show me my sister's place of interment now.
I told him it would be all right, Nicholas.
Yes, of course.
Now perhaps you'll be good enough to tell me how my sister died.
An illness of some duration, sir.
And was this illness diagnosed?
- Yes. - By whom?
Dr. Leon, a physician of repute.
And he decided?
Something in her blood.
Yes?
That's all? Just something in her blood?
I'm afraid so.
And I'm afraid that does not satisfy me, sir.
Follow me.
1517-1546
May we go now, Mr. Barnard? This is very painful for my brother.
And for me... as well.
This form of burial is a family custom, Mr. Barnard.
Will you stay the night with us?
The night...
and more, sir.
Until I know exactly what has happened here.
Thank you.
Yes?
I trust that you will be comfortable here.
Is this you?
No.
No, that is my father, Sebastian Medina.
- Sebastian Medina. - yes.
The resemblance is remarkable.
Yes.
And the other is my Uncle Bartolome.
Mr. Barnard, I am aware, painfully aware
of your distrust regarding Elizabeth's death.
Her death was...
and is anguish to me.
I beg of you, do not add to it...
I'm sorry, Don Medina, but your word is not enough.
Too many things need fuller explanation
before I can be satisfied that what you say is true.
Fuller explanation.
Yes.
Come with me.
Please come.
The atmosphere is heavy in here.
Why have you brought me here?
It is her room, sir.
I've had it kept exactly as she left it.
Look around you, sir.
This room was furnished and arranged with dedicated love.
Every article of furniture, every decorative detail
is the work of a master craftsman of Italy or Spain or France.
Indeed, every country in the civilized world
is represented here.
It is a unique room.
I did it all for her.
I wanted her to have something that...
Maria.
I beg your pardon, sir. I was just cleaning up.
Oh, yes. Yes, of course.
You may go now.
Is this all you meant to tell me?
You are an unyielding man, Mr. Barnard.
I am forced to be, sir.
God is my witness, I worshipped your sister.
I worship her still.
Without her, life is meaningless.
She was the very substance of loveliness.
I tried to capture it,
but it was the way she walked and moved,
her smile, her voice.
She sang like an angel.
And she could play the harpsichord
as no other woman I have ever known could play it.
Every night, after we had dined,
she would play for me.
Please forgive me.
I had not intended to so display myself.
I only wanted to convince you.
I pray... I beg of you to leave me for a while.
Please go.
Do you live in London, Mr. Barnard?
Yes, and you?
In Barcelona with an aunt.
And, uh, have you been here long?
A little over a week.
I came to be with Nicholas because I...
Who would that be?
Nicholas.
How are you, my friend?
Pale.
You slept badly, have you?
Charles...
we have a visitor.
Well, splendid, splendid.
Exactly what you need.
- Charles. - Mm?
It's Elizabeth's brother.
Oh?
- You mean he... - Yes.
Dr. Charles Leon at your service, sir.
Doctor.
You are, I understand it, Elizabeth's brother.
The resemblance is clear.
The... The coloring, the same configuration.
Beautiful woman, your sister.
- Doctor. - Ah, my dear.
I've interrupted your meal, I see.
Proper timing was never my forte.
We have just finished.
Won't you join us in a glass of wine, Charles?
Delighted.
So, young gentleman, you've come all the way from England, then.
That's right.
Terrible tragedy, your sister's death.
Appalling business.
How are things in Baztan, Charles?
What?
Always, always, Nicholas,
buying and selling, living and dying.
The weave of life.
Why did my sister die, Dr. Leon?
Have you not been told?
- Of course he has. - Well, then?
I want to hear it from you, Doctor.
Her death was inevitable, I fear,
under the circumstances.
This castle, this odious atmosphere.
What has the castle to do with it?
What has the cas...
It's too late now, Charles.
I... I didn't want him to know.
Know what?
Your sister's death was caused by failure of the heart, sir,
due to total shock.
Literally, she died of fright.
Why did you not tell me?
I thought to spare you, sir.
You thought to deceive me!
That's not true.
What is all this?
Show me where it happened.
Very well.
No, Nicholas...
There is no other way, my dear.
We were wrong, very wrong,
to have kept the truth from Mr. Barnard.
Now we are doubly suspect in his eyes. 227 Suspect?
Come.
Nicholas, you should not be doing this, you know.
You're not well.
It cannot be avoided, Charles.
Come.
Well?
A torture chamber?
Yes, Mr. Barnard.
It was my father's.
Sebastian Medina.
One of the inquisition's most infamous, degraded...
Please, sir, that is enough.
- Mr. Barnard, can you not see that... - What was my sister doing here?
She could not keep herself away.
That noise I heard, is that what was...
No, sir. That particular device was not in operation at the time.
Which device?
It's in an adjoining chamber down there.
Please, Mr. Barnard, do not go there.
I...
I do not wish to discuss it.
The story, sir.
In detail.
This was my father's world, Mr. Barnard.
Spare yourself at least this, Nicholas.
How can I spare myself?
Was he not my father?
Am I not the spawn of his... his depraved blood?
His depravity is not yours, Nicholas.
Why scourge yourself because of it?
You have not answered me, Don Medina.
I shall not dwell upon the history
of this... this blasphemous chamber.
Suffice it that the blood of a thousand men and women
was spilled within these walls.
Limbs twisted and broken!
Eyes gouged from bloody sockets.
Flesh burned black.
Why are you telling me these things? What are they to do with my sister?
I should never have brought her here.
She was too sensitive, too aware.
Aware of what?
The malignant atmosphere of this castle.
It destroyed her.
My sister was a strong and willful woman
not subject to the influence of atmospheres.
You have been here only a matter of hours, Mr. Barnard.
You cannot know what it is to live here
month upon month, year after year,
breathing this infernal air,
absorbing the miasma of barbarity which permeates these walls,
particularly this chamber.
But it did not bother her at first either.
Our life was good,
rich with the shared pleasures of our love.
Each morning, I would bring her breakfast.
In the afternoons,
she usually sat for me while I attempted all in vain
to capture her beauty on canvas.
I did that portrait which you saw in her room before,
but it is all inadequate to recall the loveliness of her.
We dined, sometimes alone enjoying intimate conversation,
sometimes with the doctor.
And every night, Elizabeth would play for me.
Life was simple, quiet, richly pleasurable,
and then the darkness began to fall.
More and more, entering her room in the mornings,
I would find her awake
and discover that she had not slept all the night.
I tried to find out why, but she had no explanation.
Her appetite began to fade.
She began to lose weight and color.
I tried to make her eat, but something kept her from it.
I would come upon her wandering in the corridors at night.
I tried to find out what was wrong, but she never had an answer
except to say that... that something was oppressing her.
Oh, God, help me for my blindness.
I should have known.
And then, one day, she disappeared.
Frantic, I... I searched the castle for her.
And then I knew...
the castle and its awful history had obsessed her.
These very instruments of torture,
which were my birthright and my curse,
now tormented her, as well,
infecting her with a kind of haunted fascination.
I watched her drawn to one and then another
as if the aura of pain and suddering which surrounded them
was luring her to sickness
and to death.
Immediately I made my plans to leave the castle with her.
We would travel for a while, restore her spirits,
and then make our home elsewhere.
Then, on the very eve of our departure...
we heard a scream from below,
the most hideous, blood-chilling scream
I have ever heard in my life.
Just before she died, she whispered a name.
Sebastian.
Mr. Barnard?
Doña.
May I speak with you?
Yes, of course.
How is your brother?
Better, thank you. Dr. Leon is staying with him.
I have come to ask you to please believe him, Mr. Barnard.
He has told you the truth.
Has he?
Yes.
In not telling you before, he only meant to spare you pain.
He is a good man, Mr. Barnard,
a kind and gentle man,
and I know that he adored your sister.
I would like to believe him, Doña Medina,
but I find it very difficult to do so.
There's something about him I cannot help but sense.
A kind of fearful tension that...
I'm sorry, but an air of definite guilt.
Of course he suffers from guilt, Mr. Barnard,
because of what our father did,
because of what happened to Elizabeth.
Perhaps it will help you to understand
if I tell you something that happened to Nicholas
when he was just a boy.
One day,
while Nicholas was playing in the lower corridor...
He had been forbidden by our father to enter this chamber at any time.
The curiosity of youth, however,
overcame his fear of challenging our father's discipline.
He had to see the chamber.
Suddenly there were footsteps.
It was our father.
With him were our mother and our Uncle Bartolome,
who was our father's brother.
At first it appeared that for some inexplicable reason,
our father was actually conducting them
on a tour of his ghastly chamber.
Nicholas could see that both our mother and our uncle
were uneasy, frightened.
Our father's smiling affability
as he described the workings of these hellish instruments
turned Nicholas' blood cold.
He watched them with a mounting sense of premonition.
Something was wrong,
most terribly wrong.
Even he, no more than 10 years of age,
could sense it like a darkening vapor in the air.
There was no reason
for our mother and our uncle to have been there.
As he struck, he kept on screaming at his brother
one word over and over.
Adulterer! Adulterer!
And then he turned on her...
accusing her of vile debauchery with his brother,
cursing her as faithless,
promising her the agonies of hell in payment for her infidelity.
And there, before my brother's very eyes,
our mother was tortured to death.
Ever since then,
Nicholas has been unable to live as other men.
Always he is haunted by the memory of that terrible day.
Your sister's death came very close to driving him insane, Mr. Barnard.
I beg of you,
have pity on him.
Help him by believing him.
I will try, Doña Medina.
Well, I know you must be very tired from your journey.
Good night.
Doña.
Who is that?
I'll see.
Where's Nicholas?
He is gone?
I must have dozed off in that chair, and then I heard...
I don't understand. Surely it's your brother.
No. Nicholas has never played the harpsichord in his life.
Maria.
I heard the playing, sir.
Go back to bed, child. Go on.
Nicholas!
It was Elizabeth.
You saw her?
I did not have to see her.
I know her playing.
Locked?
Yes.
Is there another door?
There is not, sir.
My sister's?
Easy, easy. Easy.
It was she.
Up. Drink this.
Thank you.
Hers?
Yes.
He will sleep in a minute or so.
Doctor, will you stay, please?
Yes, of course, my dear. Until the morning, at any rate.
My dear Lord.
It is hers, isn't it?
It is.
But how?
Let us not talk here.
May we use your room, sir?
Yes, of course.
Sit.
What I am about to tell you
no one in this world except Nicholas and myself knows.
That is, I thought that no one else knew.
- Take this. - No, thank...
Drink it.
To be absolutely blunt about it,
Nicholas believes that Elizabeth may have been interred prematurely.
What?
I hasten to assure you both that such is not the case.
Elizabeth was quite dead.
I would stake my reputation on that fact.
Then, why...
...does he believe it?
Because of what happened to his mother many years ago.
I'm afraid I don't understand.
I told Mr. Barnard what Nicholas saw that day.
No, my dear.
Your mother was not tortured to death as you were told.
But...
She was tortured, yes...
but not to death.
Do I make myself clear?
Do you mean to say that...
Your mother was walled up in her tomb
while yet alive.
Oh, no!
From that day forth,
the very thought of premature interment
was enough to drive your brother into convulsions of horror.
Nicholas broods about it constantly.
Already he has told me
he has heard Elizabeth walking the corridors,
even that he has heard her speaking his name.
- Dr. Leon. - Sir?
You seem to forget that we all heard the harpsichord playing.
No, I have not forgotten it, sir.
It is why I said before
that I thought that no one but Nicholas and myself knew about this.
What do you mean?
Someone, I fear, has discovered Nicholas' secret
and is using it as a terrible advantage.
A servant, perhaps.
I could almost more easily believe that...
That what, Doña Medina?
Nothing.
I spoke without thought.
I want to know one thing, sir.
Are you absolutely positive
that Don Medina's dread is unwarranted?
If Elizabeth Medina walks the corridors of this castle,
it is her spirit, not her living self.
- Where did it come from? - Elizabeth's room.
What is it, child?
Easy, child.
Easy.
Now, tell us what happened here.
I...
I heard her.
Heard?
The mistress.
I was cleaning up the room, and she spoke to me.
She called me by my name... Maria.
She said, "Maria, leave this room!"
My wife spoke to you?
- My wife spoke... - Nicholas!
No one will ever enter that room again.
- Mr. Barnard, I'm... - No need explaining, Nicholas.
Mr. Barnard knows everything.
Take care of the girl, will you, Catherine?
I'll see to her, Doña Medina, if you want to go with your brother.
Thank you.
Come, Maria, let me help you downstairs.
Perhaps I should bring some food to Nicholas.
He will not eat it, my dear, any more than you are eating yours.
I'm not hungry.
You need your strength nonetheless.
If I may interrupt this fascinating conversation
for a moment,
how long, may I ask, do you intend to accept these occurrences
at face value?
I should have thought, Mr. Barnard, that a man of your investigative zeal
would have already solved the mystery.
And have you, Doctor?
I am not certain.
But do you remember that no one actually heard Elizabeth's voice?
We have only Maria's word for it.
We proceed on similar lines, Doctor.
In questioning Maria, I asked her to describe the voice she heard.
And?
She could not describe it, Doctor, because it only whispered to her.
This point seems of vital import to you, does it?
Don Medina.
Don Medina!
The key to Elizabeth's room.
The key, I said!
Again?
Do not go there, Nicholas.
I must, Catherine.
- Nicholas. - Nicholas.
Come.
What I have dreaded all these months
has come to pass.
You are wrong, Nicholas.
No.
No, she haunts me
because of the terrible thing I did to her.
Mr. Barnard.
What in the name of heaven?
And have you nothing to say, Don Medina?
I don't understand, sir.
Do you not, sir?
Then, with your permission, I will enlighten you.
What is the meaning of this?
The meaning, Doctor, is this.
Only one person in this castle
could have caused all these inexplicable occurrences.
That person is Don Medina.
- What? - You are mad, sir.
Am I?
Mr. Barnard, I swear that I...
This secret passage, sir, how convenient for you.
Enabling you to whisper to Maria without being seen.
Then, after the door to Elizabeth's room
had been locked by you,
enabling you to return there
and at your leisure demolish everything.
You are wrong, sir. I swear, I...
You are lying, sir!
When Maria screamed, where were you?
When Elizabeth's room was being torn apart, where were you?
Why were you not investigating that?
I... I was afraid.
You lie!
Both times, you were in Elizabeth's room yourself!
Both times, your own door was locked,
protecting you from discovery.
No, that's not true! That's not true!
Why should Nicholas do these things?
Why?!
Is it possible?
Is it possible I am doing these things unaware to punish myself?
No, Nicholas! No!
One of the servants is responsible, most likely Maria.
Could I have kept that ring without knowing it?
Played the harpsichord without knowing it?
Destroyed Elizabeth's room, all without knowing it?
My inner mind
creating evidence of Elizabeth's vengeful return
because that mind knows...
But I don't know!
I will find out.
No.
It's the only way, Catherine. It's the only way.
I...
I must be sure!
I must be sure.
Can you not stop this?
I do not believe I wish to stop it, my dear.
If this is the only way of convincing Nicholas
that he did not bury his wife alive,
then I say by all means do it.
This groundless dread must finally be put to rest.
We will exhume Elizabeth.
True.
True!
I swear to you, I thought she was dead.
On my honor as a physician, I thought she was dead,
I swear to you.
True.
- True. - Nicholas.
- True! - Nicholas!
- True! - No! Nicholas!
True!
Nicholas!
I killed her. I killed...
I killed her!
No, Nicholas.
I killed...
I killed her.
Nicholas.
I would suggest, Nicholas, that you leave this place.
Your remaining here cannot help Elizabeth now.
Try to understand, Nicholas.
I am a doctor of medicine.
Never in my career have I seen a condition
which so completely paralleled the physical appearance of death.
You cannot feel responsible, Nicholas.
While we were up here mourning her, she was alive,
struggling to be free.
I am responsible.
If it were not so, she would not want to haunt me.
She does not haunt you, Nicholas.
Can you not see that?
It is you punishing yourself.
I must leave in the morning.
Already I have been grossly negligent of my other patients.
I beg of you, leave with me.
I can never leave.
I must accept whatever vengeance Elizabeth chooses to inflict upon me.
Doña Medina?
What is it, Mr. Barnard?
May I speak with you?
Certainly.
I came to apologize.
Apologize?
But everything you said...
I know that my suspicions were justified,
but not as I had expected.
I realize now that my sister's death was an accident.
I do not blame your brother.
I feel only sympathy for him.
What I did was, I assure you, only because of Elizabeth.
I think I understand.
I'm sorry that our meeting should have taken place
under such unhappy circumstances.
Had things been otherwise...
Perhaps we shall meet again...
in Barcelona.
I hope so.
Good night, Doña.
Good night.
- Doctor. - Where are you going, sir?
To apologize to Don Medina.
I wouldn't speak to him just now.
He is much overwrought.
In the morning, perhaps.
You will be leaving then?
Yes.
Will you accept the hospitality of my carriage?
Thank you, Doctor. Good night.
Good night, Mr. Barnard.
Nicholas.
Elizabeth?
Nicholas.
Elizabeth?
Where are you?
Elizabeth?
Where are you?
Nicholas?
Is my brother with you?
No. Is he not in his room?
No.
He must be with Dr. Leon, then.
Nicholas.
I will check below.
You two search this floor and the one above.
All right.
Nicholas.
Is that you?
Elizabeth?
Nicholas!
Elizabeth?
Nicholas.
Elizabeth?
Nicholas.
Nicholas!
I told you to wait.
I couldn't.
He's gone.
What about my brother?
He's supposed to leave in the morning.
But now...
Why couldn't you wait one more day?
I've waited too long already.
So, my darling Nicholas,
we've broken you at last.
Elizabeth, there is no time for this.
I've waited an eternity for this moment.
There has to be time.
And now, my dear Nicholas, I have you exactly as I want you...
helpless.
Elizabeth.
Is it not ironical, my husband?
Your wife an adulteress.
Your mother an adulteress.
Your uncle an adulterer.
Your closest friend an adulterer.
Do you not find that amusing, dear Nicholas?
Yes.
Yes!
- Yes! - What's happening to him?
Happening?
Why, what should be happening, Isabella?
Isabella?
You, Bartolome, my brother,
how do you like my little workshop, huh?
Dear God!
Why, what ails you, brother, huh?
And you, my dear, why are you so pale?
Does this place disturb you?
I thought the two of you would enjoy the novelty of it.
Come, let me show you about a bit.
Where are you going, Isabella? Bartolome!
Are you leaving me?
Don't you want to see my?
I am going to torture you, Isabella.
I am going to make you sudder for your faithlessness to me.
Before this day is out, you will be begging me to kill you,
to relieve you of the agony of hell
into which your husband is about to plunge you.
Harlot!
You will die in agony.
Die!
Now, Bartolome, my brother...
Bartolome?
Bartolome!
Where are you?
You cannot hide from me, you know.
Don Medina.
There you are, Bartolome!
Oh, there you are, sir.
We've been searching all over for you.
And now for you, Bartolome, my beloved brother,
while you are still alive,
my ultimate device of torture.
Are you ready now, Bartolome?
Bartolome?
Now we are ready to begin, Bartolome.
Do you know where you are, Bartolome?
Don... Don Medina, I am Francis Barnard.
I will tell you where you are.
You are about to enter hell, Bartolome.
Hell!
The Netherworld.
The infernal regions.
The abode of the damned.
The place of torment.
Pandemonium.
Abbadon, Tophet, Gehenna, Naraka, the pit!
And the pendulum.
The razor edge of destiny.
Thus the condition of man.
Bound on an island
from which he can never hope to escape,
surrounded by the waiting pit of hell,
subject to the inexorable pendulum of fate
which must destroy him finally.
Nicholas?
Nicholas, are you in there?
Catherine, help me!
Nicholas?
Nicholas!
Oh, no!
Maximillian.
Maximillian, we must break into the torture chamber quickly.
Maximillian.
Don Medina, he thought that I was...
Shh.
It's over now.
Nicholas.
No one will ever enter again