A Knight's Tale (2001) - full transcript

Should we help him?

He's due in the lists in two minutes.
Two minutes or forfeit.

Lend us those.

Right. Left.

- Dead.
- Eh?

Three scores to none
after two lances.

As long as Sir Ector doesn't
fall off his horse, we've won.

He's dead.

- What do you mean?
- His life's spark is covered in shite.

His spirit is gone
but his stench remains.

- Does that answer your question?
- No, no, no.



No, he sleeps. Rouse him.

I haven't eaten in three days!

None of us have!

- Let's fetch a priest.
- No, he's not dead!

You wake up! Come on!

Come on!

You manky git!

Roland.

Squire, Sir Ector must report
at once or forfeit the match.

He's on his way.

I haven't eaten in three days!

Three days!
What did you eat, mate?!

If you wasn't dead, I would kill you!

I'll ride in his place.



Strip his armor.
I'm riding in his place.

Wat, stop kicking him!
I'm riding in his place. Help me.

What's your name, William?

William Thatcher, answer me
with your name.

It's not Sir William.

It's not Count or Duke
or King William.

I know that.

You must be of noble birth
to compete.

A detail. The landscape is food.
Do you want to eat or not?

If the nobles find out,
there'll be the devil to pay.

Then pray that they don't.

Visor.

Come on, we're late.

The score stands at three lances
to none in favor of Sir Ector.

Lord Philip of Aragon.

Stand ye ready?

Sir Ector. Stand ye ready?

Ready?

I tilted against Sir Ector many times.

In practice as his target.
You never struck him.

- Badger me not with details.
- The landscape. Stay on the horse.

He needs 3 points.
He has to knock you off the horse.

I know how to score, Roland.

I've waited my whole life
for this moment.

For Sir Ector to shite himself
to death?

Get it in the cradle. In the cradle.

Get it in the cradle!

William, are you alive?

- We won! We won!
- Can you hear me?

Get off me!
William, can you hear me?

We won!

He's breathing. He's breathing!

Sir Ector.

Sir Ector. Remove your helmet.

My lord, the final blow of the lance
has bent it onto my head.

He says the final blow of the...

I present your champion, my lord.

Twenty.

No, 10.

- Fifteen.
- Done.

Very good. Cheers.

Fifteen silver florins.
He didn't want that.

That's five for William.

Five for Wat. Five for Roland,
who's going home to England.

Straight to the pub for me.
Eel pie, brie tart...

...tansy cakes with peppermint cream.

We could do this.

We've done it, boy.
That's silver in your hand.

No, I mean, we can do this.
We can be champions.

Give us your coins.

Give me your coins.

Now, that's one for you.

And one... for you.

Which leaves 13.

That's 13 for training
and outfitting.

The tournament in Rouen
is in a month.

We could split a bigger prize.

In one month we'd be on our way
to glory and riches.

Or lying in a ditch with Sir Ector.
William, I just want to go home.

Tansy cakes. Dilled veal balls.
I'll take my five now.

Oh, wait up.

You're going the wrong way!

You can't even joust.

Most of it is the guts to take a blow.
Guts I have.

And technique?
I have a month to learn that.

And name a man better
with a sword than I am.

- In the practice ring.
- You're not of noble birth.

So, we lie.

How did the nobles become noble
in the first place?

They took it at the tip of a sword.
I'll do it with a lance.

- A blunted lance.
- No matter, Wat.

A man can change his stars. I won't
spend the rest of my life as nothing.

That is nothing. And that's
where glory will take us.

We're peasants. Glory and riches
are beyond our grasp.

But a full stomach?
That dream can come true.

If you can take your coins,
go eat cake in England.

But if you can't, you come with me.

You see? Money doesn't matter.

See how hungry I am?!

- Do you?!
- Damn your stomach, Wat!

Roland, please.

With 13 silver pieces,
three men can change their stars.

Thirteen's unlucky.
Thirteen sat at the Last Supper...

...and we all know
how that turned out.

Fine.

Wait here.

Twelve it is.

Come on. Come on.

You had to mention supper.

I'm in.

Roland?

God love you, William.

I know, I know. No one else will.

Unlucky.

- I think he's getting worse.
- He is getting worse.

Switch.

Switch.

Glory and riches. Glory and riches!

You see how dangerous it is?

Faster! Faster!
All right, use those legs!

Come on, Roland. Faster! Faster!

- You missed it.
- You've done it dozens of times.

Well, I guess that means
we should do it again.

Come on.

Come on, ponies.

Fong him.

Faster. Balance.

No, slower. Keep it steady.

I got it! Look, I got it!

Any minute now.

- Yes, better.
- Nice.

We need a banner.

Our emblem.

I was thinking of a phoenix.

Why waste the money?
We have Sir Ector's white stag.

Someone may recognize it.

We need to be reborn...

...like a phoenix rising from
the ashes.

A lion.

Lying down, his head raised.

Yeah, but walking,
right forepaw raised.

- All his weight on his left.
- No, the weight on the right.

No, everyone uses lions.

Can't you see? The phoenix.

Its end is its beginning.

Like myself.

If it's all about you,
pick what you want.

We're just humble servants.

A phoenix, like the three of us,
not just myself.

Three phoenixes then.

Three it is.

And he may be grasping
in his talons a lion.

Just think about it.

- It's my turn to ride.
- No.

We haven't reached the marker.
And you shouldn't.

How would it look if my squire rode
while I walked?

I don't give a witch's teat!
It's my turn! It's my turn!

Maybe nobody should ride.
The horse is not what he used to be.

Fine. Fine.

Morning.

Morning.

Hoy, sir.

What are you doing?

Uh... trudging.

You know, trudging? To trudge?

To trudge the slow, weary...

...depressing, yet determined walk
of a man who has nothing left...

...except the impulse to simply
soldier on.

Were you robbed?

Interesting question. Yes.

And at the same time,
a huge, resounding, "No."

It's more a sort of involuntary
vow of poverty, really.

But on the brighter side,
trudging does represent pride.

Pride, resolve and faith
in the good Lord Almighty.

Please, Christ, rescue me
from my current...

...tribulations.

Who are you?

Lilium inter spinas.

The lily among the thorns.

Geoffrey Chaucer's the name.
Writing's the game.

Chaucer?

Geoffrey Chaucer, the writer?

- A what?
- "A what?" A writer.

I write with ink and parchment.
For a penny, I'll scribble anything.

Summonses, decrees, edicts,
warrants, patents of nobility.

I've been known to jot down
a poem, if the muse descends.

You probably read my book,
The Book of the Duchess.

Well, it was allegorical.

We won't hold it against you.
Each man decides that for himself.

Did you say patents of nobility?

That's right. I did.

And you gentlemen are?

I am Sir Ulrich von Lichtenstein
from Gelderland.

These are my faithful squires,
Delves of Dodgington...

...and Fowlehurst of Crewe.

I'm Richard the Lionheart.
A pleasure.

No, I'm Charlemagne!
John the Baptist!

All right!

Hold your tongue, sir, or lose it.

Now you see that, I do believe...

...Sir Ulrich.

Thank you, Geoff.

Have you any more to say, Master
Nude, or may we be on our way?

- Off to the tournament?
- This is the road to Rouen.

That remains to be seen.
They're limiting the field at Rouen.

Noble birth must be established
for four generations on either side.

Patents of nobility must be provided.

Listen, clothe me...

...shoe me, for God's sake, feed me
and you'll have your patents.

No.

- Patents of nobility.
- We need him. We need him.

- Let me handle it.
- Be nice.

Nice, nice, nice.

All right.

Betray us and I will fong you
until your insides are out...

...your outsides are in and your
entrails are your extrails.

Pain.

Lots of pain.

I present Sir Ulrich, whose mother's
father was Shilhard von Rechberg...

...son of the Duke Guelph of Saxony,
son of Ghibellines, son of Wendish.

- Wendish inherited the fief...
- That'll do, herald.

Six generations is more than enough.
Show me the patents.

Indicate in which events
shall your Lord Ulrich compete.

He'll first meet
Roger Lord Mortimer.

Thank you very much.

I can't believe it.
You did it, Chaucer.

I thank you. I didn't think
we had a chance.

My pleasure, William.

If you don't mind, I'll stick around.

Be my herald, you'll
get part of the winnings.

Done. Now if you don't mind,
I have to see a man about a dog.

Walking out from Cheapside

My fortunes for to seek

I passed along the River Thames

Its waters did they reek

'Twas there I met a pretty lass

She said her name was Nell

Bell or hell rhymes with Nell.

Would you speak to me?

Ah, to speak.

Sir, my sex are marked
by their silence.

I would hear you speak
if it cost me my ears.

That is well, for I do not
want silence in my life.

Tell me your name.

- Would you care if I were ugly?
- Yes!

I mean, no. I mean...

You desecrate the house of God!

Tell me your name.

And what would you do
with my name, Sir Hunter?

Call me a fox, for
that is all I am to you.

Then a fox you shall be until
I find your name, my foxy lady.

He's a handsome hunter.
I give him that.

Does this not shock you, ladies?

Certainly, my lord.

I only laugh just
to keep from weeping.

Beauty is such a curse.

Pray your years come swiftly.

Pray your beauty fades
so you may better serve God.

Oh, I do, my lord. I pray for it all
the time.

Why, God, did you curse me
with this face?

God's will has a purpose,
but we may not know it.

Well, that is lovely.

Sir Ulrich von Lichtenstein...

...defeats Roger Lord Mortimer
one lance to none.

Easy. They'll think I
never broke a lance before.

- But you haven't!
- Ulrich's broken thousands of lances.

Come on. You're due
in the sword ring.

My armor's loose.

Germaine.

My lord?

That knight there,
what badge is that?

Triple phoenixes.

Ulrich von Lichtenstein.
A duke of Gelderland.

Gelderland?

Well east of the Rhine, I believe.

Shite. I can't block an overhead.

We can't fix it now.
We're overdue in the sword ring.

It was a mistake to do two events.
I'm too hurried.

- I'll withdraw from the sword.
- Sword's what you're best at.

But the prizes and prestige
are bigger in the joust.

Ulrich von Lichtenstein?
I am Simon the Summoner.

I'm overdue at the sword ring.

I must detain you
on behalf of your herald.

You were never robbed.

I have a gambling problem.

I can't help myself.

And these people will...

...literally take the clothes
off your back.

What are we supposed to do?

He assured us that you,
his liege, would pay us.

And who are you?

Peter, a humble pardoner...

...and purveyor of religious relics.

How much does he owe?

Ten gold florins.

You manky git!

- Pain! Pain! Take the pain!
- Get him off me!

Wat, let him go!

What would you do to him
if I was to refuse?

We, on behalf of the Lord God...

...will take it from his flesh
so that he may understand...

...that gambling is a sin.

Oh, come on.

Please, Will.

Please, will you help me,
Sir Ulrich?

I promise you won't regret it.

I don't have the money.

Release him...

...and give him back his clothes.

- And you'll get it.
- Done.

- You lied.
- Yes, I lied.

- You lied.
- Yes, I lied.

I'm a writer.
I give the truth scope!

Behold my Lord
Ulrich von Lichtenstein, son of...

- Too late. He's been announced.
- Fine.

Ten blows by sword.
Sir Ulrich to receive first.

Strike!

Strike!

Stop letting him hit you!

Shut up! Shut up!

Two strikes for Sir Walter Loring!

Sir Ulrich to strike!

- Now it's your turn!
- Come on!

Strike!

I taught him that! That's me!

Sir Ulrich prevails,
five strikes to two!

Yes!

Behold my Lord Ulrich!
The rock! The hard place!

Like a wind from Gelderland,
he sweeps by!

Blown far from his homeland
in search of glory and honor!

We walk in the garden
of his turbulence!

Yeah!

- You're champion.
- Of the sword.

Isn't that why we're here? Come on.

Do you want to touch him?
Do you want to touch him?

We should've saved
for the blacksmith.

I can't pay you now...

...but I promise I will, just as...
- No! Money.

- Excuse me.
- Cash first, not promises.

Go on.

Excuse me, sir.

You might try the farris.

A woman?

Beggars cannot be choosers,
my lord.

Thank you.

- Excuse me.
- I don't work for free.

- I can't joust with broken armor.
- That's your problem, not mine.

Each drop of this sweat
has a price on it.

Just as well. They told me
I was daft to even ask.

- Who?
- The other armorers.

Did they say I couldn't do it
because I'm a woman?

They said you're good
with horseshoes, not armor.

No one mentioned
you being a woman.

Cat's meat! Hot wine!

Cat's meat! Hot wine!

Lady, I will win
this tournament for you.

Nay! I will win for you.

May I present Count Adhemar...

...winner of the joust in France
and champion at Saint-Emilion.

All forgotten when standing before the
most beautiful woman in Christendom.

Do you only pretend to fight, Count
Adhemar, or wage real war as well?

I am leader of the free companies.
My army is in southern France.

Geoff, 'tis my lady.

- William, you aim too high.
- I don't know any other way to aim.

- Concentrate.
- What should I say to her?

What do you think of the joust?

It's very abrupt.

And I don't understand the rules.

Then I shall educate you.

A match is three lances.

One point is given for breaking
a lance between the waist and neck.

Two points for breaking on the helmet.
It's difficult.

The helmet sweeps back.
Most blows glance off.

Three points for bearing a rider
to the ground.

Also, if you bear a rider
to the ground, you win his horse.

Do men die in the joust?

Lance points are tipped
with coronals, which blunts them.

Of course, accidents happen.

I myself, Jocelyn,
have never been unhorsed.

Nor have I.

Your name, lady.

I still need to hear it.

Sir Hunter, you persist.

Perhaps angels have no names.
Only beautiful faces.

And you are?

I am, um...

Have you forgotten?

Or your name is Sir "Um."

Ulrich von Lichtenstein
from Gelderland.

I'd forget as well. What a mouthful.

- Your armor, sir.
- What about it?

How stylish of you to wear an antique.
You'll start a new fashion if you win.

My grandfather will be able
to wear his in public again.

And a shield. How quaint.

Some of these poor country knights,
little better than peasants.

- the second son...

...of Sir Wallace Percival,
third Earl of Warwick.

My lords, my ladies...

...it is with honor
I introduce my liege...

...Sir Thomas Colville.

You're good.

You're very good.

My lords...

...my ladies...

...and everybody else here
not sitting on a cushion...

...today...

...you find yourselves equals.

For you are all equally blessed.

For I have the pride...

...the privilege, nay, the pleasure...

...of introducing to you
a knight sired by knights.

A knight who can trace
his lineage back...

...beyond Charlemagne.

I first met him...

...atop a mountain near Jerusalem...

...praying to God...

...asking his forgiveness
for the Saracen blood...

...spilt by his sword.

Next, he amazed me
still further in Italy...

...when he saved a fatherless
beauty...

...from the would-be ravishings
of her dreadful uncle.

In Greece...

...he spent a year in silence...

...just to better understand
the sound...

...of a whisper.

So without further gilding the lily
and with no more ado...

...I give to you
the Seeker of Serenity...

...Protector of Italian Virginity...

...the Enforcer of our Lord God,
the one, the only...

...Sir Ulrich von Lichtenstein!

Thank you! Thank you!
I'll be here all week.

That was different.

It's time we celebrated
our differences.

Just maybe not in public.

You...

Yes, I'm well aware
a good fonging is on the way.

Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah.

I got their attention.
You win their hearts.

Very good.

- Was she watching? Geoff.
- What?

- Did she see me?
- Yes, she did.

- Did she see me take the hit?
- Yes.

- Was she concerned?
- Her eyes welled up. Just awful.

Colville has perfect technique.
I've never seen him before.

Nor I.

But this Lichtenstein.

His technique, rudimentary.
Style, nonexistent.

Still, he's fearless.

Fearless? How so?

The slit in the visor is narrow,
but splinters can penetrate it.

Most knights raise their chins
at the last instant.

You lose sight of your opponent, but
protect your eyes. Ulrich doesn't.

He keeps his eye on the target.

A true hunter.

Sir Ulrich...

...l'm through.

But I've never not finished before.

I wish to keep my honor intact.

A draw. And Colville is hurt.

Colville withdraws. Ulrich advances.

Why didn't Ulrich finish him?

He shows mercy.

Then he shows his weakness.
That's all mercy is.

For the love of victory, William,
go to sleep.

I can't.

Love has given me wings,
so I must fly.

I can't explain it.

- She makes me feel like a poet.
- You may feel like a poet...

...but you sound like an idiot.

- You don't even know her name.
- Her name?

Her name is Aphrodite.

Calypso. Venus. Take your pick.

Women weaken the heart.

Without your heart, you cannot win.

- But her eyes...
- Concentrate.

Tansy cakes!

Count Adhemar sends word.

He said he will win
this tournament for you.

He's won many. He wins them
for himself and his own honor.

It's nothing to say
he wins them for me.

He wishes to speak to you again.

Not to hear a word I say.

Adhemar wants his women silent.

Would you have Sir Ulrich
win the tournament for you?

No.

And he is the only knight
who has not promised to do so.

Sir Ulrich von Lichtenstein.

I would have him win my heart.

Adhemar! Adhemar! Adhemar!

Oh, lovely.

I don't think I've ever seen
Count Adhemar lose.

No, but defeat him
and you'll see it firsthand.

My liege.

Sir Ulrich.

Christiana.

- My lady bids you wear this token.
- Of course.

She also said to tell you, her name...

...is Jocelyn.

- Au revoir.
- Au revoir.

Oh, Jocelyn.

Concentrate.

I can't breathe.

No style whatsoever.

But neither has an anvil.

- He hits like a hammer. Amazing.
- But not perfect. He aims high.

Roll your shoulder back,
his blow may go right.

But if he strikes to my left,
I'll be obliterated.

I didn't say it wasn't a gamble.

Ulrich! Ulrich! Ulrich! Ulrich!

William?

William, here.

Come here.

Someday I'll be a knight.

A thatcher's son? A knight?

You might as well try
to change the stars.

Can it be done, Father?

- Can a man change the stars?
- Yes, William.

If he believes enough,
a man can do anything.

Come here.

Gain more bearing, Ulrich.

See me again when you're worthy.

I'll fong you in the arse!

Well done, my lord! Well done.

- You bastard!
- Go and see to Ulrich.

Go see to Ulrich.

Well done, my lord.

A noble victory.

My lady, I believe this is yours.

For long spear on foot...

...Pandolfo Malatesta.

For sword on foot,
Ulrich von Lichtenstein.

Finally, for the mounted joust
and tournament champion...

...Adhemar, Count of Anjou.

Adhemar! Adhemar! Adhemar!

I present to you your champions.

Next time, you will look up
at me from the flat of your back.

Please. You have been weighed,
you have been measured...

...and you have been found wanting.

Keep winning the sword.

- I won't compete in it.
- It's your best.

No. It's tournament champion
or nothing at all.

Ten florins. That should do.

Sixes and sevens tonight, Chaucer.
Do you feel lucky?

- Have you enough clothes?
- Be gone. I'm done with you.

Except to exact my revenge.

What on earth could you
possibly do to us?

I will eviscerate you in fiction.

Every last pimple,
every last character flaw.

I was naked for a day.
You will be naked for eternity.

I have a feeling
we shall meet again.

Here, farris, take what we owe you.

The armor you wear, it wasn't
made for you, was it?

So, what of it?

I could make armor you wouldn't
even know you wore it.

What's the cost?

Just take me as far as Paris.

We travel alone.
Take your gold and go.

- Get what you can. Let's pack.
- Why are we leaving so soon?

The next tournament is in a week.
We can walk now and save the horse.

You must go to the banquet.
You'll dance and make an appearance.

Let Adhemar laugh at me again?
No!

- Yes!
- No!

My lady would know the color
of your lord's tunic tonight.

- His tunic?
- Yes, so she can dress to match him.

We regret to inform your lady
he won't be attending...

- Herald, do not give my answers!
- Yes, my lord.

Squire, answer her.

What color is my tunic tonight?

Green.

Trimmed in a kind of...

...pale green...

...with...

...uh, wooden toggles.

I will tell my lady.

- This is a disaster!
- No, it'll tunic up quite nicely.

That's not a disaster, Roland.

I don't know how to dance.

And one and two
and three and four.

Your hand should be light,
like a birdie on a branch.

And one, two and three and four.

And Wat doesn't lead,
he follows like a girl.

And one and two and...

...twirly, twirly, twirly.

And one and two, and you're
still getting it wrong.

And one and two
and three and four.

You can hit me all day
because you punch like a what?

A girl.

- Enough!
- Get back! Wat, quiet!

- He starts it.
- You know he's touchy!

Oh, and you can do better?

- Of course.
- Then show us.

No.

If I'm making all this effort,
you'd best ask her nicely.

I'm sorry, Kate.

I was wondering if you'd care
to show us how to dance.

- Please.
- Please.

And one and two, three and four.

Five, six, seven, change partners.

And one, two, three, four...

...five, six, seven.

Polonaise. And one...

Are you wearing your hair like that?

Is there another way?

Sir Ulrich, you look fantastic.

Jocelyn, you look...

Uh, you...

...remind me of the Bible.

When God stopped the sun to give
Joshua time to defeat the Amorites.

I don't understand.

If I could ask God one thing...

...it would be to stop the moon.

Stop the moon
and make this night...

...and your beauty...

...last forever.

Lady Jocelyn.

What fortune
to be seated beside you.

Yes, and with Sir Ulrich.

Of course.

Congratulations on your victory
with the sword.

And yours in the joust.

Jocelyn...

...you look...

...great.

Thank you, my lord.
For the poor.

Thank you, my lord.
For the poor.

Alms for the poor.
Thank you, sire.

For the poor, my lord.

For the poor
who wait outside, please.

Thank you.

For the poor.

Oh, thank you.
You're very generous.

- For the poor.
- They won't be poor any longer...

...when Ulrich is through
emptying his pockets.

No, Adhemar,
there will always be poverty.

You see, poverty is the one possession
the poor have that no one would envy.

Or take from them.

You're wrong, Sir Ulrich.

My lady.

The poor do have
something that I envy.

They can marry for love,
while we cannot.

Marry for money, lady...

...and the love will follow.

What dance will you have?
A coranto?

Or a basse dance?

Sir Ulrich.

Why don't you show us a dance
of your country?

Show us a dance of Gelderland.

Yes. Gelderland.

Well, it's a lot like the farandole...

...but with some differences.

Well, you bow.

And...

...and...

Places. Places.

What?

- I don't know. Too small, too light.
- He'll be crushed. Killed.

No. I found a new way to heat steel.
It's thinner, smaller...

...but just as strong.

What are these?

The marks of my trade should
another knight admire the armor.

Twist and bend.
Feel the movement.

- But eventually I will be struck.
- And then death.

Do you at least have the courage
to test it?

You okay?

I didn't feel a thing.

It works?

It's a miracle!

- Who's that knight?
- Piers Courtenay.

He's raised taxes on his land three
times this year to pay for tournament.

His people starve while
he sits at banquet.

It's probably true.