The Return of the Musketeers (1989) - full transcript

They've stolen the King!

How much longer?
Come on.

Yours was the chicken
and yours was the chicken.

Hey, what are you doin' up there?

I see.

Keep it off the table.
Somebody's got to clean that.

No, no, don't tickle me.
Don't tickle me.

What do you call this?

Chicken. Idiot.

I said friends, friends.

This tastes like the pudding.



I just want something to drink.

Hello.
Hello.

No.
Good evenin'. Stop it.

What's the matter
with it? To you.

Good morning. Have you a
table away from the fire?

Get out of here!
Certainly.

Gaston, Gaston!
Come here!

He's been interfering
with my ox, that man.

Must go, must fly.
Busy, busy.

All right.

Get 'em up!

Here you, get off of there.
Mind my cabbage.

Frenchmen!

Brothers of the Fronde!
We demand an end to misrule.



An end to corruption!
An end to Cardinal Mazarin.

We demand the release of the people's
champion! To hell with Mazarin!

The Duke of Beaufort!

- Down with Mazarin!
- Mazarin, God save him.

All Paris seemed to be in a foul
temper that summer, I remember.

Damning Mazarin, cheering for Beaufort.

As if it mattered which lordly
rascal misruled France...

in the name of little King Louis.

Well, it was all one to me,
D'Artagnan, the forgotten lieutenant,

waiting at palace doors like a lackey.

Remembering those brave times long ago

when we defeated the great
Cardinal of Richelieu,

the Three Musketeers and I,
heroes of yesterday.

Now only I was left,

the shabby, down-at-heel soldier.

A sad relic of the old days...

and a source of some amusement

to the young fops of the court.

Until that day when
Cardinal Mazarin sent for me...

and offered me employment.

He needed men with long swords
and short purses, he said.

Well, mine was short enough.

I was to seek out my old comrades,
Athos, Aramis and Porthos,

whom I hadn't seen in 20 years
and hire them for his service.

Dirty work no doubt, but old
soldiers can't be choosers.

Down with Mazarin!

Down with Mazarin!

I wonder if they'll break the
Cardinal's windows again.

I do hope so. Who cares?
It's just politics.

The Duchess of Longueville
is on her back again.

I'm not at all surprised.

Four, five, six.

One, two, three... four, five, six.

See, one, two, three...

When I'm grown up,
I shall not allow politics.

So they'd better smash Mazarin's
windows while they have the chance.

Down with Mazarin!
Down with Mazarin!

- Down with Mazarin! Down with Mazarin!
- Louis, that is naughty.

Down with Mazarin!

You interrupt our pleasure, Cardinal.

A thousand pardons, sire.
I thought I heard my name.

May I be permitted to address
Her Majesty, your mother?

Have you begged an audience? Louis!

The Cardinal is your prime minister.
And it's time for your afternoon nap.

We want Beaufort!

We want Beaufort!
We want Beaufort!

Soon he will be too big to send to bed.

Then your pretty
little niece will lead him.

Until then, you and I
must rule France together.

Close together.

That rabble!
Filth! Middle class!

Let them burst their lungs.

Monsieur Beaufort is safe
in the Dungeon of Ardennes.

I have found the perfect jailer
for him. Come and look, dear.

Down there.
Do you recognize him?

He was rotting in the Bastille,
where you sent him, my dear.

Rochefort! Richelieu's creature? That
reptile! They would've destroyed me.

That was 20 years ago and he's been
buried alive for five of them.

Now he has only one loyalty, fresh air.

And with half of France
against me, I need him.

And every good agent I can find.
Men like those Musketeers,

who served you so well in the old days.

Musketeers, those noisy ruffians.

They had their uses.

One of them made love to my dressmaker,

and the silly slut got herself strangled.

I looked like a scarecrow for weeks!

I gave him this ring
and the fellow pawned it.

That would be D'Artagnan.

Of course I'd pawned it.

Did she think I'd been
living on memories?

That ring was all the reward

we Four Musketeers had got for
saving her honor long ago...

and ruining ourselves when we
killed her enemy, Milady de Winter.

They called us murderers.
We were disgraced, scattered...

and now 20 years after,

this slippery cardinal
was bidding for our swords.

Silver? Skinflint.

Perhaps I should be grateful to him, for
on that day began the last adventure...

when the four of us were all
for one and one for all again!

Your servant, ma'am.

My God! Planchet!

Hide me, Master.
God.

She said, take me to the market.
That's what she said.

I said, What, with these knees?

Put that back.

Excuse me, sir.

Have you seen a fat scoundrel?
Paris is full of them.

And of impudent upstarts.
I was only asking.

You were pawing like a peasant.
Well, I should have known.

A Musketeer, brave
cloaks and bad manners.

Can't you swaggering sword bullies
even answer an honest question?

You're unarmed. I'm busy.
You're lucky.

Go away!

Where the devil have you been anyway?

Ten years ago I sent you out to buy cheese.
You never came back.

Well? They were shut. Has he gone?

So, you cut purses now, do you?
I never. I was hungry.

I've been starving for years.
Quiet! Quiet! Quiet.

Wait, wait.

Your fat carcass might be worth feeding
if you can tell me where I can find...

Monsieur Athos?
Monsieur Porthos?!

Monsieur Aramis?

Well, answer, you fowl feeder.

Monsieur Aramis is a priest in the
Convent and the Queen's confessor.

Dear Aramis, the duelist,
the lover, the dandy,

who always wanted to be a priest.

So, you got your wish.
Well, come on, blubberguts.

Let's go and disturb him
at his devotions.

No, thank you.

This is one conquest Monsieur
I'Abbe won't live to boast about.

Come on, get up there.

I'm tired. Stop whining, Planchet.

Look, horsemen.
Very good, Master.

Let me at him first.

It's an ambush.

Yeah, it's an ambush.

Not for us, I'm afraid. It's a long
time since I was worth assassinating.

How was it for you?

Thought as much!

Get off my husband!

You there, sir, be off
about your business.

Mind your manners. Do you
own the highway? What!

What do you want here? Marguerite,
what are you doing here?

Let me alone. I can see
what you're doing here.

Marguerite, stop talking, come here.
Stand in front of me.

All right, go and talk to him.

Ouch! Get away from me,
you hussy you!

- Planchet, attack them! Attack them!
- I'd help if I could.

- Planchet, get stuck in!
- Get stuck in... stick in... no, no!

- Alone!
- Marguerite!

It is you!

Sorry.

Get off!
There's no room.

Aramis!
D'Artagnan!

Did you drop from Heaven?
No, from Paradise.

Whose side are you on?
Thank God for that.

That way!
Quickly! Quickly!

Hey! Hey!

Come on!
Come on!

After them!
Come on, men!

Just here.

Planchet, get rid of the horses.

Welcome to the Convent of Noisy.
Normally we'd enter by the door.

Don't worry, they're all still at prayers.
I'm very strict.

Can you see them?

There they go.
After them!

Strange, when I was a Musketeer,
I longed to be a priest.

Now I'm an abbe and I miss the old days.

Then join me. Think of it, the
four of us together again.

Serving Mazarin?

He's vain, greedy,

Italian and the Queen's lover.

What sort of cardinal is that?

I suppose your next sermon
will be on poverty and chastity.

I never preach. Not since a gentleman
laughed at one of my sermons.

I said a Mass for his soul. Aha!
You're still a swordsman?

Not for Cardinal Mazarin.

Well, I'll just have to try Porthos.

Planchet! Where are you?
Not that way.

Porthos is a very rich man these days.

He married the great estate in Picardy.

Help me with this, will you?

You won't tempt him.

I can talk Porthos
into anything. You'll see.

Planchet!

Sorry. Come and hold
this rope ladder.

I've got it.

Yes, it's all mine. Farms,
pastures, miles of it.

These peaches are delicious.
From my own orchard.

Gettin' closer, you know.
Wherever it is, somewhere.

This vintage, exquisite.

My grapes are the envy of the
province, so they tell me.

And the air.

Yes, my own air.
You like it?

Fragrance of money.
Happy Porthos!

No, my friend, unhappy.
I have neighbors, you see.

Rustic gentry, poor as mice
but with ancestors and titles.

I am plain Monsieur
Porthos, so they snub me.

I've killed a couple of 'em.

But even that gets me no invitations.
So depressing.

God Almighty.
You need action.

Service, sir.
A sword in your hand again.

And Cardinal Mazarin can provide it.

He'd give you a title, Baron Porthos.

What would your neighbors say then?
Baron?

Me With a silver crest on me coach.

By God!
That'd show 'em!

I thought it was going quite well.

You say Aramis refused to join us?

Incredible, a man of his
gifts skulking in a nunnery.

Athos is bound to come when he
knows I've agreed. I hope so.

Aramis tells me he's changed, since
he adopted a son a few years ago.

No more drinking or brawling.
Just a quiet country gentleman.

Deplorable!

It's hard to imagine. Athos growing
old at peace with the world.

You can take your summons,
soak it in wine and choke on it.

- You time-serving...
- Bring him down.

Bring him down, arrest him, bind him.

Athos, Comte de la Fer, I summons you
on charges of riot, disturbance...

summons on me, you fool!

That man there, your father

- Speak, man.
- My father's drunk.

I'm studying the relation of the planets.
Conversation with either of us is useless.

- Come back tomorrow.
- Summon the guard.

- Summon the guard!
- As far as I'm concerned, I've served my summons.

You can arrest him.

That one there!
Go on!

Oooh!
Aaah!

- Give me a hand, boy.
- Father, reason with them.

What do you think I'm trying to do?

Come on here! Fine country
gentleman, yes, sir.

One for all, come on!
And all for aaah...

Musketeers?!

D'Artagnan!
Yes!

Welcome home, boy!

There you are. Remember him? Porthos!

Wonderful, Athos!
You haven't changed!

This is wonderful!

- It's you.
- Small world.

Raoul! Come here.

I want to introduce you
to two old comrades of mine.

Raoul!
This is D'Artagnan!

And Porthos!

I'm afraid, gentlemen,
Raoul does not approve...

of this or this!

Come, boy, your toy can be mended.

Yeah, it's all here.
Won't take a minute.

Your servant, gentlemen.

I'm sorry, Father.

Raoul!

Raoul! Is this any way to treat my friends?
Don't be hard on him.

Have you forgotten another young man 20 years
ago who was most uncivil to Musketeers?

Leave him to Porthos.
He'll charm him out of it.

Him?

They fall at different
speeds. Why?

Why do they fall at all?
What attracts them to earth?

Something to do with religion, I expect.

Why should Mazarin want me?
Because you're Athos,

the bravest and the best.

Was I ever that even 20 years ago?

And now, what should he need me for?

To fight against the Fronde and Beaufort.

Are you pledged to Mazarin, boy?
I've taken his pay.

Then give it back. There
is no honor in his service.

Look, if the Fronde
want to rescue Beaufort...

and replace this creeping
Cardinal, let them.

What's it to you? You are a
soldier, not a politician.

Why should you serve Mazarin?

To earn a living. You have
your estate and your son.

Aramis has his church...
and his women.

Porthos has more money than he can spend.
What have I got after 20 years?

Your honor, boy,

and that same clean heart that came
out of Gascony all those years ago.

God go with you.
I cannot.

Would have been good, the
four of us together again.

Planchet, get on your horse if you can.

Porthos is worth a dozen.
Will you do something for me?

Will you look after the old fool?

I have a fondness for him...

and the young one.

Come on, that's a good boy.
Sit, sit.

Does he suspect anything?

No, D'Artagnan trusts me, you see.

And your son, does he know?

I am sending him to Paris.

Come, we have a long ride ahead of us.

Get going!

No good talkin' to me. You should
have thought of that before.

Sell his boots first.
We won't get much for the rest.

In nomine Patris, Filii,
et Spiritus Sancti.

You're a priest?
My arm, help me, Jesu, my arm.

You are the headsman of Lille?

What? Yes. Help me.

In God's name, my arm!
It's broken.

Twenty years ago you beheaded a
noblewoman, Milady de Winter.

You murdered her with an ax such as this.

Not murder.
It was my duty.

You lie. You were hired to murder
her by four men. Who were they?

I don't know.
I don't remember.

Remember and I will release you.

You swear it?
For pity's sake,

the one was called the Comte de la Fer.

I never knew the others. It's the truth.
The Comte de la Fer...

It was his crime,
not mine! Let me go!

I will release you as you released her.

Burn in hell!

Murderer!

Come on.

My God, what are you?

- Evidently not a priest.
- Then in God's name, why...

It's an excellent disguise for a woman
traveling alone. It shields her from danger.

- You murdered that man.
- No, monsieur.

I did justice on one of the
butchers who murdered my mother.

For years I have been seeking
them and today I found the first.

He has paid and
guided me to the four others.

That's incredible.
I don't believe you.

That hardly matters under the
circumstances, does it, Monsieur...

Raoul, Vicomte de Bragelonne.

A nobleman.

It's my adopted father's,
Comte de la Fer.

De la Fer?

Where have I heard that name before?

No matter. I must not
deprive such a noble house...

of so precious an heirloom, now must I?

I don't understand. I have no quarrel
with you, Monsieur de Bragelonne.

You will hardly try to quarrel
with me again now, will you?

But that man!

That poor fellow who was
murdered by a mad priest?

Do I look like a mad priest?

Would anyone believe you
if you said I was?

Do I look like... a murderer, Raoul?

But you killed him...
in cold blood.

Yes, I executed my mother's murderer.

Suppose it had been your own mother?

I never knew her.

She must have been beautiful,

young, full of life.

If men had slaughtered her...

like a beast in the shambles,

what would you have done, Raoul?

Straight in.

Bad luck, sir.

No, through here, Monsieur le Duc.

A moment, gentlemen.

Twit.

If the Duke of Beaufort attempts to
escape, you will shoot him down.

I say, fellow! May we have our ball back?

This ball is cracked.

Healthy game of pell Yes.

Your followers are playing a
somewhat more strenuous game.

My own invention.
Look.

Is it Thursday today?
They're chained to their seats.

If they stop pumping, they drown.

Pull in your end.

Enjoy your game, sir.

You're going too fast for me.

Keep an eye on him.
Yes, sir.

Right.

Look up there.

Keep pumping, boys.
I'll get the rope.

Stand on my shoulders, sir.

Sorry about my shoulder, sir.
Let me help you, sir.

Sorry about my hand, sir. Step
on my head if you like, sir.

Sorry about my head, sir.

Good luck to ya, sir.
You've got a lucky face.

Boy, that made a change, didn't it?

And how precisely did the Duke of
Beaufort escape? Or didn't you notice?

He had accomplices. Who,
how many, I don't know.

I rode as fast as I possibly could
In the wrong direction, alas.

Beaufort, being intelligent,
will make it for the frontier.

Eminence, I will be in
the saddle immediately...

You will be in your quarters,
sir! Under arrest!

Until I decide how to dispose of you.

The Captain of
the Guard at once. No.

Wait. Don't be nervous, this
Cardinal is not like the old one.

He's gonna make you a baron, remember?
You really think he will?

Is he a Cardinal of his word?

You may count on it, Monsieur Porthos.

Your Barony is riding for the frontier at
this very moment; don't let it escape.

Bring it safe to me and I
shall place it in your hands.

Come on, Baron.

My good... now, wait.

Wait for me.

You men there!
Follow me!

What
God. God.

This way!

Two horsemen pursuing, sire!

Well, get on with it!
Faster! Whip up, Coachman!

You see what becomes of locking
your enemy up like a criminal,

instead of cutting his throat
like a gentleman.

That's what I'd have done to Beaufort
if I'd been Mazarin, God forbid.

Faster, faster!
Still following us, sire.

This escaping Duke was not the
foolish weakling he pretended to be.

He had half of France on his
side and unless we caught him,

he'd raise a storm that might sweep
our oily Cardinal out of office.

And where would my promotion
and Porthos' title be then?

They outnumber us three to one!

If we can put a pistol to Beaufort's
head, numbers won't matter.

Leave it to me.
You deal with the escort.

Whip up, Coachman!
Come on, whip up!

Whip up!

He said it was his wife. Go on! Go on!

I don't eat beans and it was Lent.

Off you go!
Come on, clear out!

Clear out!
Go on, vamoose!

Go and have some lunch.
All right.

Go away, go on.
Go away!

That damn sword.
Get...

Go back and kill the clown.

Sire!
Stand still, clown!

- Come here, come here.
- Get out of my way!

Which way's he going?

Come on!

Lost the sword!

Come on, come on, you donkey!

Don't let him get away!
Come on!

Up, up, up!

Aaah!

- Help!
- Get off, you buffoon!

D'Artagnan!
I'm at a loss!

I'm here!

Sorry! Sorry!
I won't be a moment.

I must say I'm not exactly thrilled
with your part of the plan.

- Hang on.
- How embarrassing.

En garde!

Let go of him, monsieur!

Surrender, Monsieur le Duc! No!

Put up your sword, Gascon.

Stop it, you great thundering blockhead!

Damn it, Porthos! Can't
you see it's me? Aramis?

Blockhead am I?

- Your swords, gentlemen.
- Never!

- This isn't mine anyway.
- Monsieur le Duc,

I know all these men, sire, personally.

If you will ride on, I will ensure
that they will remain neutral.

Right! Let's go!
Come on! Drive on!

Hah!

Steady, Gascon.

You made fools of us! Why didn't you
tell us you were Beaufort's men?

I expected honesty from
you at least, Athos.

- Or have you turned Jesuit as well?
- I won't take that from you!

Back!

Have you all gone mad?
That's Athos, man! And Aramis.

Comrades! What the devil
are we fighting for?

- You treated us like children, not to be trusted!
- You were Mazarin's men, boy!

You would have had to chosen between us.
What would you have done?

Damnable insult!
What would we have done?

Run tattling to Mazarin, probably.

Hey! Hey!

Damn you, D'Artagnan!

Aramis, I swear to God,
I didn't mean to...

He struck in anger.
You provoked it.

Take his hand. We have been
friends for too long...

to fall out over a word
and a blow, Aramis.

Aramis.

Aramis!

Athos, I swear, I didn't mean
For God's sake, Gascon!

One for all and all for one!

But that was 20 years ago.

Three can drink as well as four.

And the money will go further.

The Duke of Beaufort is free and will
sweep away the corrupt regime of Mazarin!

It can happen! In England, Oliver
Cromwell is overthrowing a king.

Yes! The world is
changing, my friends.

To hell with Mazarin!
To hell with Mazarin!

God save the King!
God save the King!

To hell with Mazarin! To hell with Mazarin!
God save the King!

What appalling handwriting.

Careful, man.

Here, let me.

Why do the working class delight in
destroying the property of their betters?

Via, Via, go away, please.

So, the English Civil War is over?

And Roundheads have captured their king.

But Cromwell doesn't say
what they will do with him.

Depose him and then...

King Charles' death is inevitable.

And France must not interfere.
General Cromwell insists.

Roundhead diplomacy. Does he think
he can cut off a crowned head,

even an English one, and Royal
France will stand by doing nothing?

What will France do?

Stand by, protest it.

My ministry wouldn't last
a day if I declared war.

We shall be nosily neutral.

You may give Monsieur Cromwell my word,
provided no one knows I've given it.

He's the winner,
so I must be friends with him.

But how long will you waste
your talent serving that Anglo

Your Eminence knows of a more
civilized service? Infinitely.

I can always use reliable agents and
I pay better than Monsieur Cromwell.

Cardinal.

Sire? This rabble at the gate.
I will not...

Who is this lady?

Sire, may I present you
Mademoiselle de Winter?

An English...
diplomatist.

English diplomacy is beautiful.

- Your Majesty.
- Rise, Ma'amselle.

You look disturbed.

Pardon, sir, I had understood
that Your Majesty was,

forgive me, much younger.

Who told you that?
He did, I suppose.

Well, I shall be 11 next year.
Your Majesty's teasing me.

You see, Cardinal?
I am not a child anymore.

You may go. I wish
to speak to Ma'amselle.

Forgive him, Ma'amselle.
He's a tiresome fellow.

A useful accountant,
but he is rather old.

They're not real, you know.

What did you say to Mazarin?

That the Duke of Beaufort escaped, thanks
to a dozen of his men who held us off.

So, he kicked us out.

No Barony for Porthos,
no promotion for me.

You see before you two unemployed gentlemen.
I cannot say I'm sorry.

You two were made for better
stuff than serving Mazarin.

On my way here I saw a woman
disguised as a priest...

kill a headsman with his own ax.

She said he was her mother's murderer.

He and four other men 20 years ago.

Good God.

I didn't believe her at first.
But then she explained and...

we talked
and we... talked.

What'd she look like?
What did she say?

Her name is Justine de Winter.

Her mother was English.
And her looks...

She's beautiful.

Justine de Winter.

Did she say who the other four men were?

She said their headsman
had led her to them, but...

My God.
You three?

And Aramis.
But it wasn't murder, Raoul.

I know what you think of Musketeers,
but we're not assassins.

Milady de Winter was evil.
She deserved to die.

One of us loved her, you see.

She haunts us still...

through her daughter,
Rochefort's bastard.

I have heard of the child over the years.

How she grew into an
assassin like her mother.

A courier, a spy for Oliver Cromwell.

Once she knows our names,

her mother's executioners,
what will she do?

One thing we must do, we must...

prepare ourselves.

Hey, hey, hey, hey!

Hey, hey, hey, hey.
Hey, hey, hey, hey!

Grave news, Madame, it seems likely...

that the English will cut off
their king's head.

Don't be silly.
They can't.

Isn't he my brother Your
son's uncle, in fact.

Cromwell intends to put him
on trial for treason.

That's impossible. Kings can't
commit treason, be put on trial.

I mean, where would it end? It's unthinkable.
His people will never permit it.

The people of England,
Madame, will permit anything,

except cruelty to horses
or a rise in the price of beer.

King Charles must be saved. He's one of us.
I'm sorry, my dear.

Only a miracle can pluck Charles
Stuart's head from beneath the ax.

Chevreuse!

Chevreuse!

Look at me.
Look at my stomach.

Now that's a king's stomach.

I think.

A king is always head and
shoulders above his subjects.

Where are you going?

I'll teach you to meddle with a king.
You heard her.

Quick, quick, quick.
Go, go, go, please.

Congratulations. I've never
seen His Majesty so captivated.

Little monsters are just
as susceptible as big ones.

But Your Eminence is troubled?
My Eminence is enraged.

You will tell General Cromwell
that the Queen, Dio mio, women,

proposes to send a party of ruffians,

French ruffians, if you please,
to rescue King Charles.

It is none of my doing.
Make that clear.

Who are they?
A pair of blunderers.

D'Artagnan and Porthos.
She's sending for them today.

And a retired bully named Athos.

D'Artagnan, Porthos, Athos.
I'll inform the General.

And remind him I am not to blame.

He will oblige me
by disposing of these rascals.

Have no fear. Oliver Cromwell
is a very thorough man.

Both ends again.

Here, there's teeth marks in it.

My flaming knee.
My wrist.

Think that's bad,
you should've humped her mother.

You?
What do you want?

Mazarin's bloodhounds are at my heels.

I've, I've been in hiding and then
I heard you were here in Paris!

Justine, you must help me. Why should I?

My God, girl, I'm your father.

You remembered.

Your memory wasn't so keen when
you abandoned me in England.

Your inconvenient bastard.
How often have I seen you since?

I've been rotting these
five years in the Bastille.

And you can rot in it
forever. Get out.

Justine!

Justine, you can't turn me away.
I have to get out of France.

You can take me on
your passport... as a servant.

Please, Justine, have you no pity at all?

As much as you had for me or for my mother,
whose murderers you left unpunished.

What could I do?
I was bleeding my life out...

in the church at Armentieres
when they took her.

That was 20 years ago.

Have you even tried to look for them?
For the Comte de la Fer?

What do you know of him?

Only his name, but not the other three.

Who were they?

Better you should never know.

Believe me, child, they are fatal men.

Their names, dear father,
are your passport to England.

Or shall I call the
Cardinal's bloodhounds?

Aramis, Porthos.

- D'Artagnan.
- And Athos,

the Comte de la Fer.

Once I gave you a diamond
ring, Monsieur D'Artagnan,

and you and these brave
gentlemen saved my honor.

Perhaps my life. Now
you go to save the life...

of my brother-monarch and
I have no ring to give you.

Nothing indeed, except my prayers.
God bless you all.

So young, so gallant.

Godspeed you gentlemen. You will always
have the love and gratitude of your Queen.

And we know what that's worth.

You can stop groveling, boy.
She's gone.

Royalty is superb.

We are to get our throats cut rescuing a
foreign king and pay our own expenses.

Why do we do it?
Because she's a queen.

No, no, no. We do it
because we are gentlemen.

And if we refused her, we would not be.

And of course, queens
have power and influence...

and honors to bestow
like a Barony, remember?

Of course.

This will be savage work,

for hard men, hired swords.

I know your scholarly distaste
for this kind of thing,

perhaps also for me.

But you will do it because
the queen commands it.

No.

Because my father wants me.

Can that collection of old bones
achieve anything?

The equally old bones and the
head of your confessor...

merely made a suggestion,
not a guarantee.

So, we're off to the wars again, Master?

A different kind of war.
They catch you, they hang you!

That'd make a change.

- Good afternoon, messieurs.
- Justine!

You will be the Comte de la Fer.

Once the husband, later the
murderer of milady de Winter.

My God.

It is her image.

Not murder, Ma'amselle.

Your mother's life
was forfeit before the law.

But as God's my witness,
we did not take it willingly.

Now your lives are forfeit
and I am most willing.

Justine, let me talk to
you... Your son's life...

for my mother's, Monsieur le Comte?

I am the one you call murderer, ma'am.

Confound it!

Disarm her, Gascon, or Porthos will!

Porthos!

No, you don't!

Got you!

No, God... aaah!

Look out!

Let her be gone.

Bon voyage, messieurs.

No!

Beastly thing.

Her mother preferred glass
daggers, I remember.

Fine looking girl, mind you.

Father, you're wounded.

Do you think she'll be
waiting for us in England?

I don't predict the future, boy.
I know the past, that's enough.

I tell you, brothers, that you
shall tear down the altars...

Where's Oliver Cromwell?
In the hat, ma'am.

Do not allow
the disbelievers to take you...

General!

I brought you a letter
from Cardinal Mazarin.

Will you speak to the Levellers?

When God is willing
and I've had my breakfast.

Three mutineers sentenced to hang.

Three is too many. One will serve
for an example. Which one, sir?

God help the loser.

Some have appetite but no meat.
Some have meat but no appetite.

I have both. God be thanked. Amen.
Madam, what will you take?

By your leave, General,
this is Monsieur de Batz,

a Huguenot soldier
persecuted for his faith.

He seeks service among the godly.
Give me your hand, Master Batz.

Welcome in God's name. That is beef
before you or mutton, if you wish.

Walter, the caper sauce to Master Batz.
Ale for the lady.

So, madam, these Frenchmen
wish to steal the king from us.

I heard the Queen instruct them herself.
They may be in England already.

They're an officer named
D'Artagnan, the Comte de la Fer...

Count's son, Raoul,
one Porthos du Vallon.

But not Aramis D'Herblay,
their former accomplice,

who is now the queen's con... confessor.

Yes, they are in England, in spite
of your efforts to stop them.

I have many ears and eyes besides yours.

Master Batz has no napkin, Walter.

Then you will arrest them? To
everything there is a season, lady.

It is whispered that you have some
private spite against these Frenchmen.

I have.

You wish to put yourself in their way.
You and your father here.

Never fret, Master Rochefort. I have
hidden my own name upon occasion.

Serve me as well as your daughter has and
you may call yourself what you will.

You are well-informed, sir.
Which is one reason why...

Charles Stuart, not I,
will stand trial for treason.

And then?

The Providence of God
has cast it upon us.

We will cut off his head
with the crown upon it.

He goes to London tomorrow.

Follow him to the scaffold
and if God wills...

you shall meet your Frenchmen.

And which club would your
Majesty like this time?

As if it really mattered.

The hole's out there, Your Majesty.

The spoon, Mardo.

King Charles, whom we were to
rescue, was a very devout man.

Even in captivity,

he observed the religious
exercises of his native Scotland.

Cruel misfortune.

Bloody terrible.

We had laid an ambush to seize
the King from his captors.

Too late. At the last moment,
a Roundhead troop arrived...

to carry him to London and his trial.

Charles Stuart, the Council of
Officers has summoned you to London.

Whereas Charles Stuart, King of England,

is, and stand as convicted, attained and
condemned of high treason and other high crimes,

having been called to answer in the
name of the people of England,

this Court does sentence him to die by
the severing of his head from his body.

Which sentence to be executed in
the open space before Whitehall,

at the hour of 10:00 in the morning,
the 30th day of this instant month.

Let him rot in hell!

I am not suffered to speak. Expect
what justice other people will have.

You have no right to try him!

No Englishman would
ever execute his King!

God save the King!

Now our only hope was to snatch
him from the scaffold itself.

If we could remove the Public Headsman,

it would buy us precious time
until they found another...

ready to commit the sacrilege
of killing his King.

Among these strangely loyal English
rebels, it would not be easy.

What are you doing?

Juggling.
Juggling?

Well, I'm only just starting.

Let Raoul do the talking.

A scaffold for the man
of sin. Now, God be praised!

Tell me, my friend, what is thy wage?
Three pence a day. Why?

My friends and I would pay
to do such holy work.

It's like building
a Tabernacle to the Lord.

You bloodthirsty bastard!

Profanity perils thy soul, vain man.

But are 50 of these if thou
yieldest the task to us.

Spend them in good cheer.

Leave that.
Come on. Follow me.

And I shall be here tomorrow
if you're watching me.

Behind that wall, there's an empty room.

And above it, the King's cell.

And our boat is waiting at Greenwich.

Well, get on with it.

And forgive us our trespasses...

Sorry!
Don't fidget!

Now, speak up, or God won't hear you.
And you, Charlotte.

Mum, can I get up now?
My knees are hurting.

All right. It's supposed
to be good for you.

Well, you eat it, then.

Must you make so much noise?

The King's trying to sleep.

Well, he'll sleep well enough
tomorrow night!!

Well, make haste.
The time's fixed for 10:00.

If you can find a headsman.

Yea, though I walk through the
valley of the shadow of death...

Oliver Cromwell was wrong.
We shall not see our Frenchmen.

They wouldn't dare come near the King.

You don't know them.
I do.

Come on, otherwise we won't see.

Get off me!

They say the headsman's disappeared.

Won't they find another?
Never!

We can't proceed without one.
Yes, but surely...

We'll have to wait for night.

We can't risk it with
all these people about.

There must be thousands out there.

Then they will be disappointed.
God, I hope so.

Suppose they've found
another executioner?

An Englishman is a cold creature.

But cold enough to butcher his
King at a moment's notice?

No. Today cannot be the day.

Is it in good taste to toast the King?

Oooh!
Perhaps a trifle premature.

What's happening?

Behold the head of a traitor!

There's something wrong
with this signature.

Will you countersign
the death certificate, General?

Goddamn you!

You should be proud. Not everyone
is privileged to kill a king.

Come. We have
a debt to collect.

The King is dead! God save the King!
Who said that?

Arrest that man! You, stand still!
I want a word with you!

Ten of the clock and all's not well.

Ten of the clock and the King is dead!

Ten of the clock and all's not well!

Ten of the clock and the King is dead!

Come up.

You are prudent, madam.

I was trained by Oliver Cromwell...

for whom I have now killed a king.

And the laborer is worthy of his hire.

Where is your father?
Drowning his remorse.

Not in that chair.

So, you promised me those four Frenchmen.

Have you found them?

I never lost them. They were under
the scaffold when the ax fell.

They had a ship to carry
the king to France.

They did not know it was packed with
gunpowder and manned by my people.

It would have exploded in mid-Channel
and Charles Stuart would have died...

by the hand of God,
not the hand of Cromwell.

But... he is dead anyway.

It matters not who bears the blame.

What matters to me is those four men.

Where are they?

They will board their ship to France.

It still lies at Greenwich
with its cargo of gunpowder.

Make what use of it you will.

So... you are paid.

Come no more to England.

God be w' ye, Lady.

No.

Since I take a king's place
I must go openly,

not like a thief in the night.

Will you make yourself king?

A man never mounts so high as when
he knows not where he is going.

She's been in there two hours.

Then why are we waiting?

What are you gonna do?

Kill her!

Justine! They're coming to kill you.
You must leave now.

And you've come
to warn me? Raoul.

You must leave quickly.
Only if you come with me.

You mean... Yes, from that
first day in the forest,

when I realized
just how brainless you are.

Justine! They're right
outside. Please!

And leave my true love? Besides, we
must ask your father's blessing.

Aaah!

Drop the sword, ma'am. You have
my word, you will not be harmed.

Is that what you told my mother?

Gallant gentlemen.

Three to one? One at a time, Ma'amselle.

Let me, D'Artagnan.

Gentlemen, lady's choice, surely.

Let me see... perhaps...
the Comte de la Fer?

I do not fight women, ma'am. But of course.
You prefer to murder them.

Then I fear it must be my forest lover.

Justine, I can't
fight you. Father...

Father's reluctance seems
to be infectious. So...

Rr-aaah!

- Aaah!
- Sword!

Woo-

No! aaah!

Get me out of this infernal contraption.

Trap two!
Trap two, coming down.

Now trap one. Right down here.
Trap one, down.

That's it,
she's gone, boys. Stop it.

Uuuh-aaah! Damned English furniture!
Where is everybody?

Good evening.

It must be this one, father. Aaah!

Raoul! Help me! Who's on number three?

I'm trying, father!
Raoul!

Fire!
Got one!

Who pulled three?

Aaah! Listen, all the blood
is running to my head!

All ready.

Make those lines fast.
Make 'em fast.

Captain Groslow.
Aye.

From General Cromwell.
You take your orders from me.

Is the gunpowder aboard? It is.

Show me.
You can get the boat here.

All clear.
Come on.

Where's the king?

His Majesty is not coming.
You can get under way.

Cast off, Jake.

All below.
Drop the sail down.

Watch out, it's coming down.
Mind your heads.

All clear on top. I told
you it was gonna be foggy.

What's your cargo?

Port wine for Boulogne.
Two hundred casks of it.

What's this? Watch what you're doing!

Can't be too careful, sir.
Risk of fire.

Arm starboard, forward.
What's in there?

Just a storeroom, sir.

Uuuh, the English beer! I
can't drink this filth.

It's drink, isn't it? There's a
cargo of port wine in there.

Is there, by God?
Well, that'll do.

I won't be long.
Don't go away.

Having breakfast. We'll raise
the French coast any time now.

Then we'll set the fuse and take to the boat.
How much gunpowder is there?

Couple of tons.
My lads are standing by.

There we are..

Can't find the bunghole.
Typical.

We'll have to pierce it.

There we are.

God!
Can't see a damned thing.

Where are we?

That's good. I can hear it trickling.
Very good.

Now, I mustn't spill the stuff.
There we are. Here we are.

Now then, gentlemen,
let me fill your glasses.

There we are. This is
better than beer. Heh!

Damned odd. Do you suppose
it's English port?

Gunpowder!

Start soundin' it.

I am soundin' it.

How long will the fuse burn?
Five minutes.

Lay it now,
I'll tell you when to light it.

Lock them in and guard the door.

Yaaah!

Come on, come on!

This is going to burn through
in about two minutes.

You see, education does have its uses.
Yes, all right.

Quickly, to the boat.

There it is.
I'll untie it.

My God... look!
What?

No! Let me go!

Did I mention...

You idiot! Let me go. Leave it to me!
I know what to do.

Porthos, stop him!

No!

Quickly, in the boat. I can only
swim in rivers and small ponds!

In the boat, come on!

Quick! Untie me!

Yes, yes, I've just...

Quick, pull me in, pull me in.

Get the oars.
Pull me in.

I can't row! You stupid idiot! Untie me!

It's all right, Justine.
I've put it out.

Come on. Let's go home.

Still, boy. All's well.

You'll live to be lucky at cards.

Is she... I mean, is she...

By God, I hope so.

Where is the king?

They were still politicking away
in Paris, as noisily as ever.

Mazarin clinging to power,
Beaufort back at court,

worming his way into the Queen's favor.

And what a welcome
Her Gracious Majesty had...

for her returning Musketeers.

They bay like dogs at my
windows with their demands...

and no one does anything.

Can't they be put to work?
Or shot?

I will be obeyed.

Am I the Queen of France
or a kitchen maid?

And the chocolate was cold!

I'm surrounded by dolts,
rebels, incompetents, failures.

Listen to that unwashed rabble!
If only Your Majesty would.

They ask so little.

A few reforms, lower taxes,
the dismissal of Mazarin.

They know he lines his pockets and they fear
he intends to take the King out of Paris.

And if he should?

Is Paris a fit place for the King,

with those radicals howling at his gate?

Do you dare scowl at me, sir?

May God forbid, Majesty.

But if a failure
may venture some advice...

keep the King in Paris.

If you serve King Louis as well
as you served King Charles,

God help the Crown.

Swaggering, useless old men.
Out of my sight.

And you can tell the mob that
they will not see the King...

and that I will not dismiss
Cardinal Mazarin.

He has my complete confidence.

That goes in the second coach.

Those in my saddlebags.

Where's the rest of my jewelry?

Well, anyway, it goes under the seat.
Quick, quick, quick!

You?

You're meant to be in England.
How did you get here?

I swam part of the way.
Your Eminence is leaving France.

Leaving Paris.
A brief holiday.

Before they tear me to pieces.

And to teach these infernal
Reformers a lesson. Please.

And your leaving Paris will do that?
The King's leaving will.

It's time he learned how to rule and
I intend to teach him in Ardennes,

undisturbed by political opponents.

You'll kidnap him,
but why take the risk...

when you can get him to go
of his own free will?

Find me something more feminine
and I'll arrange it for a price.

Four death warrants.

Get on with it,
you fat lump! You're so lazy.

Go on, get through it. Yes, yes.

We're losing, number three!

I'll whip you so hard!

Go on, you silly goose.

Get going. I'm gonna get you next time.
Louis, I've won!

Majesty.

You may rise.

Would you like to come
to a lovely palace?

What, with you?
I'd like that.

Majesty.

Go on, give it.
You haven't paid for it.

It's a present!
No!

Make way, make way!

Here come the horses!

I'll hit you!

My God! It's her!

That woman.
Master! Master!

Be off with you!
Look 'a he's done.

I'd have looked well in a coronet
and fur robe, wouldn't I, Raoul?

"Baron Porthos."
Well.

About as likely as
"Captain D'Artagnan."

What is that stuff?
It's a new China drink.

It's an infusion of Bohea
leaves known as "tay."

Try some?

There's no alcohol in it.

Master, master!
God, she isn't drowned!

She's with the King and the Cardinal.
Are you drunk?

Which way did they go? Beyond
the bridge, through the gates.

Mazarin's castle at Ardennes.
Get the horses!

Righty-ho.

- We haven't got any horses!
- Then buy some!

What are they all doing?
They're working.

I've never seen work before.

Not since Daedalus
and Icarus, my friends,

has mortal man mastered
the secret of flight...

and conquered the mysterious force that
makes things fall down when you drop them.

But now, you good people of
Ardennes, you'll be privileged...

to witness me, the Chevalier
Cyrano de Bergerac,

begin my historic journey to the moon.

Please.

I thank you.

I shall...

Your Majesty. Remember me, no.
I shall be...

I shall be drawn by a flock
of specially trained geese...

whose strength will be sustained
on the arduous journey...

by supplies of the choicest grain...

while I wing my way
to my lunar destination.

At nine tomorrow,
the epic aerial voyage begins.

Lower the drawbridge.

How low do you want it?

That'll do.

You told me to get horses.
Didn't say good horses.

Those who hold the King's hand...

have France by the throat.

At least the King's not in any danger.

With that hellcat tucking
him up in bed at night...

We must get him out of there quickly.

Against those walls?
How do we get in

Smith! Red-hot coals at dawn and your name
will live in the annals of lunar flight.

Fail me, and I burn your smithy.

To the inn...

and procure me
the finest bed in Ardennes.

Silken sheets, perfumed pillow, the
choicest meat, the finest wines,

soft music to lull me
into the arms of Morpheus.

No less will do for de Bergerac.

Away.

To Ardennes? He would not
dare! Without my permission?

Damn you, I don't care if he went
willingly or not! No, I, but...

You say those four ruffians were seen
on the Ardennes road? Yes, four.

It's a plot!
Ye... plot.

Don't tell me Mazarin can do as he
pleases with the King. No, he can't.

My son.
Y-yes.

Insolence.
Absolutely.

Who am I? Will someone
answer Well, you're, y-y...

The finest bed in Ardennes.
The finest wines.

Cast off!

Planchet, come and blow this thing up.
All right.

Come on.
Quick, spread the balloon out!

Sire.
Mazarin's a bore.

He has Your Majesty's interests at heart.

I dare say, when I'm grown up, he shall
choose me a wife; some dull princess.

But I shall make you my mistress.
Such an honor, Your Majesty.

No!

It'll soon be broad daylight,
the way we're going.

Bergerac is an idiot. When
he wakes, I'll tell him. Moon!

Well, he is waking up.
Idiot!

What about the geese?
They don't seem to be helping.

Damn the geese!
Turn 'em loose, Planchet.

Come on, man, quick.
Here we go again. We're off.

Come on, Planchet. Here's my hand.
Now, come on, man, jump.

Jump! Up, up, up!
Aaah-aaah!

I said up, not down.
Well, hold on. Wait there.

God, be quiet!
Bye.

This castle smells.

How many guards have you? Twenty,
with orders to admit no one.

Not even the Queen herself.

Buona notte.

Drop more sandbags.
We're sinking.

You big-nosed buffoon!
Wake up! Make it fly!

The moon!
We'll crash!

How do we keep this thing aloft?
Fools! Throw out more ballast.

Quiet.

Be quiet, Gascon, be quiet!

Head towards the window.
Climb in there, Raoul.

What? I could fall. Forget things
that fall at different speeds.

Climb in there.

Rouse the guard! There's something amiss.
Right! Guards, guards!

Give me that anchor.
Try this window. Try this one.

Almost there.
There we are.

Now, leave this to me.
Once I'm in, charge. Quick.

Yes, charge.

Are you charging?
Push. Can't you see I'm stuck?

We are pushing!

All right, then, pull!
Make up your mind!

Here, let me try. I have
a smaller... hat than you do.

They go this way, Father.

That way, yes.

She's yours, Porthos!
Mine!

Be careful, father.
Look, up there!

Quick, this way.
Hey, what's that?

Come on!

Come on!
I'm coming!

Who's that up there?
On the battlements?

We're being attacked!

Dear.

Uuuh!

Look, look up there.

He's gonna fall in now!
O-o!

Hoo!
Uuuh!

Who are you, then?

How do they put you in here?

Down there.
There's a tunnel.

Bye-bye.

Porthos, stay back!

Aaah!

Porthos, I... You, you!

I've lost one of them.

What are they doing? I don't know,
but this is better, isn't it?

Go away.

Now, you bitch!

Now, you've had your last breath!

Surround him.

- I'm coming!
- Raoul!

Yee-aaah!

Get out of my way!

Aaah!

He's dead, definitely!
Look at that one!

Put this on my horse.
You...

Justine.

Surrender.

Is everybody deaf?
Inside, brat.

How dare you

- Majesty, do as she says.
- Or I'll cut your throat!

You mustn't touch me.

Look, there!

Do you really want to go after her?

'Cause, by God, I don't.

Sit down, Your Eminence.

There.

So. Her Majesty's Confessor
attacks the King's castle...

in company with brigands.

My name is la Comte de la Fer.

My concern is for the King's safety.
And for yours.

It's quite simple.

You'll take that pen and write as
we dictate, or we'll kill you.

Now. You won't be the first.

What I write under duress
will have no value.

When the King seals it,
it will have value.

That is why you brought him here.
To ratify your decrees.

So now, you must write them.

What do you want?

Full concession to all
demands made by the Fronde.

Come, it will make you popular. A little
poorer, perhaps, but you'll be alive.

And you will have cut the ground from
beneath Monsieur Beaufort's feet.

Dio mio! You are politicians!
I mean no offense.

Ink, Your Eminence.

Excellent.
And the next...

There's more?
No...

Monsieur Porthos du Vallon
to be created Baron.

And the Abbe Aramis D'Herblay...

To be made bishop.

Jesus! Why not Pope?

After Your Eminence, perhaps.

Raoul de Bragelonne to be
commissioned in the Guards.

Lieutenant D'Artagnan to be given...

a captaincy on active
service as he wishes.

There is nothing you can give him.

But... when you have me
at your mercy?

There must be something?
No Patronage?

A position

There is one thing
you can do for me, sir.

Make Mazarin a name to be honored
in the history of France.

Monsieur!

Well, I suppose you'll
come back from the wars,

laden with prize money,
buying half of Paris. Hah!

That's all very well for you in your
convents and chateaux and baronial estates,

but we soldiers have
to work for a living.

Well, it was good to be together again.

One for all and all for one?

Athos.

Good-bye, Gascon.

Aramis. God keep you, D'Artagnan.

What can I say? Mind you
do us credit in the wars!

I'll come back with a marshal's baton.
Hey, hey!

He hasn't changed.

He's still the same young, brave fool
that came out of Gascony 20 years ago.

Do you remember?

And the Three Musketeers became Four.
Is it really 20 years...

since that young fire-eater
challenged all three of us?

It is. Twenty years.
Counted 'em every damn day.

Go on counting 'em,
I suppose, as we grow older.

Yes!