# Hold fast to the law
# Of the last cold tome
# Where the earth of the truth
# lies thick upon the page
# And the loam of faith
# In the ink long fled
# From the drone of the nib flows on
# Till the last of the first depart
# And the least of the past is dust
# And the dust, the dust is lost
# Hold fast
# Gormenghast
# Gormenghast #
Congratulations, Ladies. You've never been braver or more brilliant.
Will we get our coaches?
Yes. Do as l've told you.
- Will we get our thrones? - Yes, eveything.
Now go back to your apartments and wait.
(Baby cries)
(Thinks) Hero, Steerpike.
(Groan) As l say, Master Secretary, this day
two months hence - my Lady, the bird -
l say...
(Sighs) Nurse, the child.
l want a breakfast for him. It's that simple.
He is my son, isn't he?
Are you hungry, my love?
The time chosen, is when we should be celebrating the laureate.
The poet can wait.
Why is eveybody so old?
The sol...the solst...
The solstice.
The solstice can't! Neither, then can the consecration of the moat.
(Whimpers)
lrma, my dear!
Clearly scheduled for that day by rote and moon.
Squallor, what's with your sister?
A case of atmosphere, as far as l can judge, Your Ladyship.
Smoke, Alfred, smoke!
Flay, open the door. l think that's settled, Mr Secretary.
As this gathering was sanctioned without my knowledge
l shall consider its conclusions to be an aberration
to go un-noted, unrecorded and unrepeated.
Door locked, Lordship.
Locked, Alfred, it's locked!
(lrma screams) What's that?
A bird, my dear, flying high, out of the...ah, smoke.
Mrs Slagg, kindly convey His Minute Lordship to the door
and hold his mouth to the keyhole.
l never heard of such a thing.
(Gertrude) Where's my rook?
What shall we do, Dr Pru?
- Is there another door? Lordship? - l don't know where.
Could we breach the original? Battery and assault.
- Flay! - Oak, Lordship. Four inch.
(Screams) Flames! Alfred! Flames!
Slagg! Take his young master to the door! As l told you.
We're going to be trapped by flames.
- Dr Pru... - Damned gathering!
This is what you get for unprecedented breakfasts!
Flame?
My library!
Slagg! The child! The keyhole!
(Groan) My books!
Alfred!
lrma, my humiliating sister, please sit down. Alfred will do the rest.
We're going to die!
Sit down, damn you!
(Gertrude) Squallor!
Lady Fuchsia, see that Mrs Slagg keeps Titus by the door.
Squallor, is that you?
lt is or rather Prunesquallor, which is,
if l may say so, more strictly correct.
Quiet man! Smash a window!
Yes, Your Ladyship.
Dr Pru, over here, it's Mrs Slagg.
Ladyship, hold him to the keyhole.
No, no, lie still. There is air beneath the door.
- Yes, lie...lie still. - Yes, doctor.
Flay! Mr Flay! Where is the largest window?
The north wall... can't reach it...no balcony.
(Splutters) Alfred!
Come, Ladyship, give me the child.
Now, ask your father to throw his cane at the window.
Yes.
ls that you Fuchsia? Where's Master Chalk?
Damn the bird! Tell your father to smash the glass!
What did you say, Squallor? Come here!
My books, my books.
Father, the doctor said your cane, Father...
(Barquentine yells)
Mr Flay! Doctor Pru! The Secretary's on fire! He's burning!
Here, hold your son. Mr Flay!
(Groan) My books! My books!
Leave him, Flay! Take your master's cane and throw it at the window!
(Barquentine yells, baby screams)
My books!
Throw it, man!
Not heavy enough, madam.
Paperweight on the table! Find it! Throw the paperweight!
Where? l can't find it.
Then climb the shelves to the window and smack it with the cane.
Help her, Mr Flay!
Master Chalk! Master Chalk!
Alfred! l'm your sister!
Keep steady, Irma. Just keep steady.
Flay, hand Her Ladyship the cane to smash the window!
Help! l can't breathe.
(Barquentine) Get off of me!
Silence, sister! Ladyship, hury!
(Screams)
My books! My books!
Hold on Here comes the ladder.
My books...my books.
Where's my bird? Where is he?
(Prunesquallor) Wait!
Master Chalk! Where is he?
Here, take him! Take him out of here. Out of here! Hold him!
Flay! Mrs Slagg!
Good man, Flay! Come now, Mrs Slagg, first the left foot, then the right.
- Your Young Ladyship. - Thank you, Dr Pru.
After you, Your Ladyship.
We shall speak, you damned my bird.
- Oh, Alfred. - Come, squirming sister,
it's time to breathe the air. And you...you, sir, Mr Secretary.
Oh.
- Lordship...Lordship. - My books...my books.
(Excited chatter)
- Let me help you, my Lord. - No, not you.
(Coughing, spluttering)
My books. My books. They burned my books.
lrma, my dear...
(Birds chirping)
My son?
You said the boy.
My son. Where is my son?
You said bring the boy, Lordship - the rescuer, it's him.
l meant my son, not him. l said l want my son.
You'll see him for his damned breakfast. Get out!
- It was a great privilege... - l said out!
Stand there grimacing like a red-arsed baboon. Get out!
Thank you, Lordship.
(Barquentine) The iron rule. No change...
Who was that?
No damned gatherings!
(Barquentine)..time chosen, we should be celebrating the laureate.
By the rote. By the way of the stone.
Er, would you care to take the air of the day, Lordship?
Damned library! Damned breakfast! None of this should have happened!
- Doctor? - Lordship?
Who?
Who burned my books?
- They'll look at us at breakfast. - Because we've the real blood.
And because we're perfect. (Steerpike sniggers)
Why don't you knock?
l beg pardon, Your Ladyships.
Where's our thrones?
As you said, when we'd burned it.
Evey successful revolution has its own pace, Your Ladyships.
Too slow, you rot. Too fast, you fail.
- Slow? - Rot?
- Fast? - (Both) What?
Don't rush. Power must have secure foundations.
Do you want your coaches, your servants?
(Both) Our thrones!
For a weekend - then give them back?
- We won't. - We haven't got them.
Not yet, but you will.
Why don't you listen to me?
Haven't l helped you? Look how far you've come already.
Don't you trust me? Do you want me to go away?
l'll go any time you want.
- He told us to burn. - We'll tell them.
We can say...
Thrones!
l have no doubt which you'll choose.
lt's unique in the whole history of thrones.
(Both) That one.
How right you are. l'll see the goldsmith tomorrow.
We want them soon.
Ladies, why insult me?
Why insult yourselves?
These are objects of art. They take time.
What? Do you want to be considered laughing stocks,
sitting on great big yellow stools?
lf you want the best, you have to wait.
- Wait? - Did he say wait?
- l don't think so. - We'll tell.
You will wait! And you will sit down.
And any more talk of burning and you'll be hanged.
Hanged! From your tree at the castle wall with the hangman's rope.
l will see to it personally. Do you understand me?
Good.
Now, you will have your thrones. They will be the finest ever made.
Just listen - to me.
Go to the breakfast as you've been invited as part of the family.
Keep your mouths shut. Do you understand?
You shall have it all. Gormenghast. All of it.
All yours.
Now, what do you say?
(Both sniff) Thank you.
One by one. We shall stock another three tonight.
This is where the poets will be.
The philosophers over there, l think, hmm?
Takes much thought to build a library.
- How many so far? - Seven shelves, Father.
Then, three more, child! Three more!
Yes, Father.
That's it!
Now we have space for the Sonian Poets. Have you the books ready?
l've collected them here.
Who are you?
l'm your daughter.
l have a son.
l know that.
He is...
..Titus.
He will be Earl of Gormenghast when l am dead.
He is my brother.
And so you are my daughter, are you?
What's your name?
Fuchsia.
Fuchsia?
l don't think l know a Fuchsia.
Do l?
Do l know you, Fuchsia?
l suppose we don't know each other that well
but l should very much like to know you better.
(laughs) Would you?
Yes, l see.
(Sniffs) The books, then, Fuchsia.
Here are the poets you asked for.
Shall l put them on the first long shelf for you?
(laughs) The poets. Ah, yes, the poets.
We should never have had the poets.
They tell us, you see.
Their pen is the pulse...Fuchsia.
Their voice is the bell.
Their words...
..travel down...
..and down...
..and...
..on...
..and on...
..into nothing...
..and on...
..into such nothing...
..and nothing...
-..and nothing... - Father, the books?
Gormen...
(Screams)
Oh, no, no, no! Father, please! l can't bear it!
(Sobs) Please!
(sobs)
l think you've made a mistake.
You are not my daughter.
How could you be?
Come here and l'll tell you.
Come, come.
l am not your father.
You see, l live...up there.
You see...
l am the death owl.
(Snoring)
(Scraping)
(Hissing)
My little precious.
Ha! Ha!
Good night, Mr Flea.
(yells)
Won't be long before l go, little one.
lt's nearly my time.
Feel your little sister. She's moving, feel her.
You'll learn from her things you'll never learn here.
l promise you.
l hate it here.
They won't have me down outside, will they?
l hate them too.
She's better than all of them. And she's better than you too,
though you would never admit it.
Sleep well, little boy.
Dream of her.
(Bell rings)
(Panting) What's the time? What? That's His Lordship's kitchen bell.
lt's not sunrise. It's not time for the breakfast.
What's he want to go and ring his bell for in the middle of the night?
What? Breakfast?
We ain't even done the quail's eggs yet, what's he playin' at?
Oi! Slugs!
Get up!
Move!
(Bottle smashes)
Father!
(Bell stops ringing)
Lordship?
(Flay knocks again)
Lordship?
(Knocks again)
(Knocks more insistently)
Lordship!
(Flay bangs on door)
LORDSHIP!
(Bangs) LORDSHIP!
(Key turning in lock)
Lordship?
(Hoots)
- Lordship. - Father?
(Groan hoots again) Father?
Father, stop doing that. Please listen. l love you.
No! Out, fart! This not for you! Back to vile kitchen.
(Groan) Chef, chef!
Have you set your traps?
- Traps, Sir? - Traps. Are you deaf?
Are they full or have the cats got them?
Oh, y-y-yeah, mice traps!
No, no, the...um cats are out for the night.
What are you waiting for? Bring me a mouse.
Twigs - evey kind. l intend to study the twig as one should.
Study and build.
A nest, you idiot.
(Chef imitates Groans hooting)
(Chef yelps as Groan continues to hoot)
Doctor, can you do something?
Yes, take this, Mr Swelter.
Lordship!
(Hoots)
May l be of assistance?
May l help, Doctor? (Sniggers)
l heard the bell.
- Who are you? - Steerpike, Lordship, my assistant.
Talk to him, boy. Get his attention!
l assist the doctor in his dispensary, sir.
(Speaks slowly) You may remember me from the library.
The library!
My library.
(yells)
Help me, Steerpike, on to the bed.
Now handle him carefully, do not ruffle his feathers.
(Moans)
- A wing, give me the wing. - What?
His arm, boy!
That was quick work, Doctor. What chemical was that?
l'm in no mood for the pharmaceutical, Master Steerpike.
Mr Flay, get him dressed for the breakfast.
Breakfast, sir?
Yes, and why not? Lordship is as Lordship does.
Will he be able to go?
We'll do our best, my little friend.
My dear Chef, why do you look so blue?
l will prepare the breakfast, as you say, Doctor.
Good.
- Soon, Mr Flay. - Out.
Oh, Doctor...
Why is eveything going so wrong?
Nothing!
Have you never seen a fork before?
lt goes here, here!
How can l be expected to lay the table for a feast
that isn't even in the damned book! Huh?
And will the ass come? Having put us to all this, will he come?
Thinks he's a bird! Woo! Woo!
You can button your lip, arsewipe!
Anything l say here is not for repetition by you!
Do you understand? Damned breakfast!
My husband is now an owl, Master Chalk.
l'd say it was an improvement.
- Ladyship? - Yes?
He's in his lavender velvet Ladyship.
So what?
Ah, well, l've never done a breakfast, Ladyship.
Secretary Barquentine said lavender for His Smallness.
- So why are you asking me? Go away. - Yes, Ladyship.
Wait! l know this is difficult for you,
but l want you to answer a simple question.
- Ladyship? - Stop saying Ladyship.
Who is this, Spearkite? Where did you meet him?
Long ago, Ladyship.
Where, not when.
With the...
..with Lady Fuchsia, l...madam.
And where does he come from?
Where could he come from, Ladysh... madam? He must come from somewhere.
The same brilliant Slagg.
And stop crying.
Birds don't cry, cats don't cry, so why should nannies?
Go away.
(Bird caws)
Spearkite. What do you think, Master Chalk?
(Miaowing)
(Hisses)
Motley for the madman?
Put bells on it.
- What do you want? - You, actually.
The doctor says hurry up.
Me? Doctor? What for?
You, Flay. Lordship, no trousers.
(Hoots)
Flay. Can't make whole sentence.
Never mind. Flay.
Good servant. If a bit simple.
You dare, boy.
Lick my neck. Me dirty. Too much underling in the air!
(yells)
(Gertrude) Out.
(Miaowing and hissing)
You throw my cat.
You touch my cat!
You are no more.
You are ENDED.
This castle ejects YOU!
(Purrs)
You stay one week.
One week and another servant shall be found for the Earl.
One week and one week only and then you go!
Now we have seen true madness haven't we my little ones?
True, true madness.
(Tinkle)
Doctor! Where the hell is he?
(Groan) l am here, Sir.
(Baby gurgles)
(Groan) Mr Secretary, you may begin.
(Barquentine) Chef!
Now!
(Barquentine clears his throat)
The first breakfast, as unwarranted by tradition, creates a precedence.
(Coughs) A precedence once accepted becomes tradition.
(Thinks) l can't bear it.
l love him so much!
l must be brave. There's no one else to mind him.
..or as in this case caused by the unhealthy love of father for son.
(Thinks) Get on with it, you idiot. Cat thrower.
(Barquentine)..remarkable phenomenon. What is it?
Can it be defined?
(Thinks) Mother won't look after him.
(Thinks) Banished.
Of course not! Therefore, clearly our precedent
cannot be founded on love. And neither can it on the accidental
or the irrational. We, therefore, of necessity...
(Whispers) Darkness.
(Barquentine)..must seek our precedent as one founded in reason.
(Thinks) l can't keep giving him pills.
That damned owl will hoot again sooner or later.
(Thinks) l must get a man! A man. What else is there?
..Reason is the all and eveything.
(Thinks) Soon Mister Flea!
..reason is developed thus.
Point one, the child Titus before us is young Lord.
Point two, young Lord is heir to it all and eveything.
(Think) We want our thrones.
Point three, all and eveything obviously includes breakfast.
(Think) We want our thrones.
Point four, breakfast is food and finally, point five -
food is produced by the peasants! So, simply put..
(Thinks) l want my daddy!
..is set and laid in the stones as follows..
(Groan) Darkness.
(Barquentine) On this day, at this time, each year, as the years roll..
Darkness!
(Thinks) Daddy!
..in honour of the heir's right to sustenance...
- Darkness!! My books are light. - (Shouts) The peasants will produce
His Lordship's breakfast!
l want my books!
Daddy! l want my Daddy!
Black owl!
Oh, me weak heart.
- Hoot! Hoot! - (Fuchsia) Daddy!
- Lordship! - Daddy!
Get him down!
l have a son. Where is my son? Hoot!
- Daddy! - Master Chalk!
(laughs)
(Flay) Lordship! Lordship!
Mr Flay! Mr Flay.
Who has done this?
Hoo! Hoo.
Hoo.
Hoo. Hoo?
Hoo.
(Gurgles)
(laughs quietly)
(Hooting)
(Screams)
No, no, my Lord. Your perch is ekewhere.
Come, come, fly.
Fly home, left wing.
Anything l can do, Doctor?
No? Sure? Anything at all?
(laughs spitefully)
ls there any hope for him?
Hope? For His Lordship? Hope?
Oh, that is a concept of the highest order, Ladyship.
A hopeful concept, hope.
Squallor, do we have any?
My sister hopes for a male, Ladyship.
- l beg... - My sister...
l heard you the first time. Your sister, a man?
Spends her days in the bath. Hope springs eternal, or something, er...
Squallor, get out. l want reports on His Lordship evey hour on the hour.
- Clear? - Yes.
- As the great chime of the great... - Out!
(Cooing, chirping, miaowing)
Something stinks, my dears. And it's not Squallor.
(Big thuderclap)
Poor little Lordship! Oh, your poor old Nannie.
We mustn't let that little wet head get cold. Ahh. Where's that girl...
Where have you been, you naughty girl?
You know very well it's the day for His Lordship's all over.
What are you doing?
lt's time, Nannie. l've been waiting for you.
You can't go. l'll tell. Don't l have enough on my plate?
Come here, little one.
You can't go back to them out there because they hate you.
- You're having a bastard. - Maybe l won't go there.
l don't know where to go.
l wish l could take you with me. l love you, little one.
You'll remember your tiny sister, won't you?
lt's not his sister. Don't say that. Sister, indeed.
Don't matter what you say, Nannie, or me. He'll know.
(Rumble of thunder)
Don't go. What'll l do?
Bye, Nannie.
Bye, my little boy.
- (Whispers) Bye. - Don't go.
(Big thunderclap)
You can't...
Oh, oh, my weak heart. Oh.
Hoot.
Tonight...my precious.
Tonight...Mister Flea.
(Sniggers slyly)
(Caws)
(Caws more insistently)
What is it, Master Chalk?
(Thunder)
For you, my little red and wet pretty one.
Then, l shall wipe you dry with silk.
Mister Flay? Aargh!
Huh?
Kitchen scum.
(Growls)
Hoot.
- Come here! - Lordship, Lordship.
Aaargh!
(Owl hoots)
Ha!
(Owl hoots again)
They will take me in.
- Hoot. Hoot. - Lordship?
(Hoots with owl)
(Growls)
Aaargh!
(yells)
Good night, Mr Flea.
Kitchen slug, at your service.
Delicious.
(Groans) Scum. Always!
Good night, manservant Flea.
Wait, wait, my precious, you shall be clean and silvey before you eat.
(Kisses knife)
And now for dinner.
(yells)
(Screams)
(Growls and snorts)
(Cackles)
Now, my pretty one.
We have him!
Aaaargh!
(Crunch)
(yells)
(Snorts)
Death!
Servant!
Now!
(Groan hoots)
(Creaking, Swelter yells)
(Sighs)
There is much to be done, Flay.
They will enjoy him.
Lordship?
(Chirping and cooing)
Heave, Mr Flay. Heave!
(Panting and gasping)
This is my hour, you see. Heave, Mr Flay.
Heave.
(Both puff and pant)
This is my time.
Lord?
Go now.
Goodbye, my dear Mister Flay.
Oh, no, Lordship, no! No!
(Screeching)
Gormen...ghast.
(Hooting)
(Keys jangle)
Goodbye, Mr Flay.
(Bells)
- Anything? - No, Sir.
let's be having you.
Right, you! Third stairs, take the dog.
ls the East Wing completed?
That wing has 638 rooms on the first floor
5O3 on the second and 700 on the third.
Captain Rottcodd...
Not counting auxiliay buildings, extensions, follies
ante-rooms, closets attics, basements
unfloored passages, unknown regions, darkness and rot!
And have you found him?
Not a Lord Groan in any of them, Master Sneerbite.
Steerpike. And don't get on the wrong side of me, Rotgut,
or l'll see you scrub stone on the jailhouse floor.
Look again. His Lordship will be found.
(Barquentine) Captain Rottcodd!
Call off the dogs. Come with me, Snakeshite!
(Chuckles)
You'll regret that.
(Snorts)
- Not found him? - Nine days.
- Not found him! - Searched nine days!
75 Earls in the history of time and not one has ever gone missing.
They die, abdicate, go mad, take up arms, kill each other,
eat their children mutilate themselves
split, shrink, decompose,
but never, never disappear!
An Earl is the mast! He is the path, the marrow in the bone.
Without him, we are hollow.
l understand the traditions and history of the castle. And the chef?
A chef cooks. What's there to cook if the master is not there to eat?
- He is nothing. The Lordship is... - Secretary Barquentine...
No! Your Ladyship, with the greatest, greatest respect,
l'm secretary to us, responsible to it all!
Nine days! Nine days, no ceremony, no obeisance, no authority!
No daily rite and passage. No heart pumping the blood of rule.
We are disrupted.
His Lordship is gone.
Long live His Lordship.
What did you say?
- Titus? - Exactly.
- Titus is barely a year. - Long may he live.
- We shall prepare the earling... - Barquentine!
Next Thursday. The longest day. It is propitious.
You may go.
An earling, Your Ladyship. There is much to be done.
Lord Groan?
He's gone. History.
There is no alternative to what l say.
Then you must do it, Mr Secretary. Now go.
(Grunts)
(Cawing)
Open them up, you bastard!
- What's this? - The law, sir.
- What's law? - What always has been, sir.
What always has been, good, good, good. What else?
- It is destiny, sir. - law is destiny and...
..obedience...
..is tradition! Don't forget that. That is the all and eveything.
Do you understand?
- Yes, sir. - Good!
You're an obsequious ass! But there is work to be done. Too much work.
Who is your master?
l ty to be useful here and there.
Oh, don't ty and rook me, Sneersight!
l see through you, bones and brain! Your master is the doctor!
Doubtless he'll be pleased.
No more here and there. Here by me. Do you understand?
l'm now your master.
You may be useful. We have an earling.
Rafts to be built. It's all here.
Come on, come on! Read it. Study.
How much will l be paid, sir?
What?! Rat!
Your keep and the honour of studying time itself!
The runes of Gormenghast!
(Chokes)
Are you ready?
l have never been more so, Sir.
Then start. The earling!
Read!
(Barquentine grunts)
Well, well.
You did ask me.
Earling...earling.
An earling?
- Our brother's dead. - He's gone.
So why give the power to a baby?
(Both) It's ours!
So why should we wait?
- Mr Steerpike. - Mr Steerpike?
We must see about him, mustn't we?
He told us, didn't he?
He told us to burn, didn't he?
So we can tell them, can't we?
Of course we can.
(Both) Mmm.
Oh, look at you, me lovely smallness.
No father - not that l'd call him a father - to look after you.
No fat chef to cook for you.
No Mr Flay. Still, we can do without that string of black bone.
(Fuchsia) No, we can't!
l was talking to your little brother.
l don't care. We can't do without Mr Flay.
We can't do without my father either.
l don't care how wonderful Titus is he's just a baby.
The top - and by that, l mean the last inch -
of the morning to you, my dears.
Are we enjoying this delicious breeze?
Dr Pru! l'm so glad you've come.
l'm delighted to see you.
And Mrs Slagg, at peace l hope - carnally speaking?
- l ebb and l flow. - What ebbs and flows?
ls it your heart or your nerves that is tidal?
Doctor, can we talk?
And please don't use any long words, l have some terrible worries.
My dear Ladyship, always a shoulder, or an ear,
or indeed, any part of my anatomy at your disposal.
Oh, Alfred, Their Ladyships.
To hell with them breastless as wallpaper!
My last postmortem had more life in it. Ladyships!
We've seen someone.
Are you referring to me, Ladyships?
Don't be stupid. We're talking to you, aren't we?
There.
Ah, raft makers, preparing for the earling. Only four days now.
What was that splash?
l'm not surprised, my butterfly.
Alfred, why are you so tiresome? Why are you not surprised?
Because that is exactly what it is, my peahen. An authentic splash.
And made by our ex-dispenser, now assistant to Barquentine,
if these eyes can recognise a certain naked appendage
as one attached to a certain Steerpike!
We are the only Ladies present, aren't we?
What about it?
We'll go down to the water's edge and unbend to him.
Will it hurt?
Oh, why are you so ignorant?
(Steerpike) l just saw you, Lady Fuchsia.
How is your health, Miss Irma?
Watch yourselves, Ladies, you'll get wet.
(Steerpike) Ladies, you do me too much honour.
Ladies!
We are unbending to you, Mr Steerpike.
Because there's much you told us to do.
And so much we could say, Mr Steerpike.
Be quiet, you idiots! Sit down at once!
(Sighs)
(Peacocks call)
(Steerpike whispers) Now, go back to your apartments.
Any more talk of fire and it'll be the hangman for you.
Hangman! Do you understand? Now go!
Beats me, Doctor.
You beat me to the very pap, dear boy.
Have a heart and swim away, we're tired of looking at your abdomen.
Mmm, forgive its magnetism.
Good day to you, Lady Fuchsia.
(Splash)
You will be careful of him my dear Young Ladyship.
Of course, Dr Pru.
(Screaming)
(Both yell)
Your throats are white and long for strangling!
Sisters of a brother sent mad by burning!
You shall hang, you shall hang!
(Both scream)
(Ghostly noises)
(laughs)
(Quacking)
(Horns)
(Cannon)
Are you skulks ready?
Then, push off, idiots!
Push off!
So, the tiniest thing in the world is an earl, today.
Some day, they're going to come and take him away from me.
They didn't take me.
They don't take silly girls.
Well, they should.
Arghh!
Come on, come on! It'll be winter before we're done.
Movel.
(Woman panting)
Hold!
More to the West!
And hide your damned selves
under the damned water! Under the damned water!
The day has come, Young Lordship.
The castle awaits your sovereignty!
(Screams)
From horizon to horizon
all is yours!
(Barquentine) For God's sake!
Pick it up!
Pick it up, one of you!
Give the little runt his stone back! And the ivy!
- l'll do it. - Stay where you are, Beerspurt!
(Barquentine) Come back here, you idiot!
(Gurgles)
(Screams)
(Baby waik)
Come back, you idiot!
(laughs)
(Coos)
(Baby cries)
(Baby's cry echoes)
He's behaving his damned self.
ln view of all...
..l...
..warden of the immemorial rights..
..do proclaim you...
..to be the only...
..legitimate Lord...
..between earth...
..and sky...
Oh, my weak heart!
Titus...
..Groan...
..the seventy-seventh Earl...
..of Gormenghast.
- (Barquentine) Titus! - (All) Titus!
Titus! Titus! Titus!
Titus! Titus! Titus! Titus! Titus!
(Crowd continues chanting his name)
(Baby cries)
How nice to be born a Groan.
(Crowd chants)