De leeuw van Vlaanderen (1985) - full transcript

-Strangers.
-Where?

Over there.

Frenchmen.

God be merciful!

Let's just carry on.

Do you know
where Wynendaele Castle is?

I think it's over there, sir. I think.

-So, you think… Bring him along!
-No.

Hyah!

-Jan!
-They've taken our Willem!

Who? Willem?



They're going to hang him!

Was it soldiers?

Knights! They were carrying shields
with fleur-de-lis on a blue field.

-Why would they kill Willem?
-They're Frenchmen.

-He had to take them to Wynendaele.
-Yes, to Wynendaele Castle.

-So they won't hang him, silly!
-Won't they?

I'll go and have a look.

Stop whining!

They'll still be in the woods.

Careful, Jan! Those knights
are murderers, every one!

It was the year 1300.

A group of silent knights

was riding across the plains
of Roulers.

The clanking of their armour
and the heavy tread of their steeds



put the deer to flight.

The group included members
of France's most illustrious families

and their mission in Flanders

was to reprimand the rebellious
Count Guy de Dampierre.

Among them, Monsieur de Châtillon,
cousin to the Queen of France

his brother, the dreaded warrior,
Monsieur de Saint-Paul

and, last but not least,

the French King's own brother,
Count Charles de Valois.

Good day. Good day.

Good day.

Good day, my noble lords.

Welcome, noble lords,
to our country of Flanders.

You are a sight for sore eyes

and have brought with you
the fair weather of the south.

Willem…

Are you showing these gentlemen
our beautiful countryside?

You've made a mistake!

Willem is a good boy
but the worst guide in all Flanders!

Be off with you!
Go, I tell you!

May I offer you my services?
I know these woods by heart.

Shall I lead the way? Come on.

Our old count will be happy.

He likes receiving visitors,
especially noble ones.

He also likes commoners, mind you,

when they come to pay him taxes.
That's what our count likes best of all!

Enough of this foolish talk!

A lord of Monsieur de Châtillon's rank

who deigns to touch me!
I am honoured!

Monsieur de Volnay,
punish this peasant!

Compliments of Jan Breydel,
dean of the butchers' guild.

Seize him!

Monsieur de Châtillon,
come back at once!

Monsieur de Saint-Paul,
come back!

Monsieur de Châtillon,
you are not yet liege of Flanders!

I still am!

And I alone decide
the fate of my vassals.

Prince, you are the first knight
of France.

We are wasting time.
Night will soon set in.

That night, the Frenchmen arrived
at Wynendaele Castle

there to be received by the rebellious
eighty year old Count Guy.

At his side, his son
Robert de Béthune,

known as
the Lion of Flanders

for his remarkable feats of arms
in the Sicilian War.

The next day,
the French knights were riding

through Count Guy's domain
as if it were their own gardens.

Matilda,
Robert de Béthune's daughter

was looking at them with distaste.

How sullen you look, Father!

-Because I couldn't see you.
-How gallant!

Damn these Frenchmen!

They make my bile rise!

I left for the Holy Land

With knights bold and brave

Fighting the Saracens

Quarter I never gave

My paramour I provided

With a belt of chastity

And to my best friend

I entrusted the key

I kept her secure

To wait for my return…

Count Guy…

The King, my brother,
is not as adverse to you as you think.

I have come here personally
to ask you

if you persist in your opposition
to the French Crown?

-Our treasury is empty.
-That's no answer!

The King of France
owes me money,

my share of the taxes from the towns
that I levied on his behalf.

The King is scheming
with the patricians of our towns

against the legal authority
of my father.

-King Philip the Fair does not scheme!
-No, he has others to do that for him!

What are you insinuating? Answer!

Sir, I don't have to answer you!

You're forgetting your rank!

Count Guy, after all the grievances
France has against you,

your rebellion,
your bad faith, your arrogance,

which seems to suggest
that Flanders is a kingdom,

with yourself as king,
a little repentance would not go amiss.

How can Philip be angry with me?
I'm his godfather.

I served his father
and his grandfather.

Our country is beleaguered
and occupied.

You want to annex it
to the France of your dreams,

the greatest kingdom in Christendom,

but, by gad, that is at the expense
of honour, loyalty and treaties!

My father never resorted
to intrigue, subterfuge and perjury.

Perjury? Who?

The King of France?
I demand that you take that back!

I've been faithful to the King
until he devalued the Crown

as he did with the French currency.

If the King of France is not corrupt

then he is at least spineless

and he is being manipulated by…

By? I dare you to speak up!

By a court of bloodsuckers.

Béthune!

Led by his own wife,
Joan of Navarre.

I will not tolerate that you slander
my queen and my cousin Joan!

This, Monsieur de Béthune,
this calls for blood!

Monsieur de Châtillon…

I am your man.

Count de Béthune chose
as brother-in-arms for the sword fight

young Adolf van Nieuwland.

Jacques de Châtillon
chose his own brother,

the redoubtable
Monsieur de Saint-Paul.

-Here, you must be hungry.
-Thank you, sir.

On your feet, sir!

My brother is magnanimous,

beneficent to Flanders.

He is generous.

He is as good as a King can be.

But he never forgets

that he's wearing the crown
of Saint Louis.

Anyone who thwarts him,
he crushes like a cockroach.

Why did he marry
that shrew of Navarre?

She hates Flanders
as much as she hates me.

She thinks I'm a threat to my brother.

-So you are.
-Of course.

Joan is in Navarre at present.

Hurry to Compiègne,
while she is not there.

Philip is so unreliable.

Do not fear, my good friend.

I shall personally vouch
for your safety.

Nothing will happen to you.

Of Philip the Fair it was said

that he resembled
the most beautiful of all birds

the white owl.

A bird that looks at the world
without blinking,

that hardly sings at all
and when it sings, it sings slowly,

and is, on the whole,
quite useless.

Sire.

Philip.

You've become stronger, Philip,
and more handsome.

Thank you for receiving us.

We've been here for twelve days.

Sire, Flanders bows its head.

His Majesty could rightly claim
that head!

He could do so at any time.

The war you launched
against the King

has turned against you.

You have forfeited your country

and you have outlawed yourself.

There have been some
misunderstandings due not to us.

Upon the honour
of the house of Dampierre

I swear that I and my countrymen
shall henceforth be loyal to the Crown.

This allegiance should be expressed

in chattels, goods and gold coins.

Flanders is bare, plundered.

The levy of the Flemish towns
should be paid

without further delay.

You need not escort me any further,
my dear confessor.

Oh, my darling King!

Have you missed me?

Every hour, my beloved.
Every day, every night!

I'm exhausted.

We've been on the road 20 hours.

Then you should rest, my love.

Rest?

Philip?

While I was in Navarre,
did you receive the Count of Flanders?

Yes.

-Is he still staying at the palace?
-He is.

And you didn't chase him away,
like the mangy dog he is?

No.

My confessor tells me you even
contemplate showing him mercy?

Mercy!

Darling, spare me your Spanish whining!

Do I mean so little to you

that you give shelter to this rebellious
and impudent Flemish rabble?

Flanders and Dampierre
question your authority.

-Sir Enguerrand de Marigny.
-The Lord's Anointed One!

Sir Enguerrand de Marigny.

-Your Majesty.
-Enguerrand.

I don't know what's going on in her
little head, but you try to pacify her.

Enguerrand, tell him
what it is all about.

Come on, tell your King.

We could raise the tolls,
seize the property

of the rebellious Clauwaerts
and the henchmen of Count Guy.

There are other means.

For Count Guy, Dampierre
and all his knights in Compiègne

we can demand a ransom
according to their rank.

The laws of the commoners
and of knighthood do not apply to you.

You are France.

France commands!

Gesta Dei per Francos.

The Lord's work by the French.

Bow, noble lords,
to His Majesty, the King of France.

Your Majesty.

On this, the most important day
in the history of the County of Flanders

-your humble vassals--
-Stop, old man!

Not another word, knave!

Your Majesty,
I don't understand…

Be silent, vassal!

Flanders…

Entirely without prejudice
and acting with clemency

we have examined your misdeeds.

Thus far, you have shown yourself
a treacherous,

untrustworthy vassal.

I care little for your flattery
and ravings.

Guy de Dampierre,
you have forfeited your life.

The day of your execution
will be decided later.

Meanwhile, you will remain a prisoner
together with your Flemish henchmen.

Sire…

You cannot jeopardize
your brother's honour like this!

I personally gave the Count
a safe-conduct.

Monsieur de Valois,

it does not befit you
to defend those who disparage France!

-My brother, I ask you--
-De Valois!

One does not interrupt
the Queen of France!

Guards! The King's will!

Count, in the name of the King…

But I haven't spoken yet!

I came of my own free will!
I demand to be heard!

Take him away!

Don't touch my father!

Flemings, run!

De Béthune, surrender!

Soldiers!

Surrender, Robert,
otherwise all our knights will die!

Noblemen of Flanders…

You're witnesses
to a royal act of treason

in which I have no part.

De Valois! Honour commands you
to take back what you have just said!

Here is my honour!

Degenerate brother!

Worthless prince!

Gentlemen of Flanders…

We would have preferred
to grant you mercy, all of you.

But much to our regret,
this is not possible.

Gesta Dei per Francos!

After which King Philip the Fair
came to Bruges

causing considerable agitation,

especially to the burgomaster
of Bruges.

Gentlemen,
this is positively intolerable!

I had hoped that the builder
would at least have finished this

for this memorable day
on which we are to receive the King!

-They did their best.
-Maybe so.

But the agreement was
that it would be finished today!

It is always the same in Bruges!
It is outrageous!

Sire, Madam.

This is for certain
the most memorable day

in the already glorious history
of our city.

A memorable day, as I was saying.
Sire, Your Majesty.

A day to remember.

Your Majesty, Sire, My Queen.

A warm welcome

from the bottom of our hearts…

A very warm…

We will be worthy
of the Crown of France

if we…

-Who is that person over there?
-To whom do you refer, Your Majesty?

The fair-haired one, at the front.

That's Matilda, the daughter
of Robert de Béthune.

And the other women?

The wives of the Flemish Lords.

-And where are their husbands?
-In our jails, my love.

I thought I would be the queen here!

And to conclude, I have the privilege

of presenting you, on behalf
of the aldermen of our city,

with a sincere heart,
with the keys of our city of Bruges.

Long live the King!

The public mortification of the King

gave pleasure to Pieter de Coninck,
dean of the weavers

and leader of the Flemish revolt.

De Châtillon! Never was
a Queen of France so humiliated!

Those peasant girls
were more richly clad than I!

In Paris, those women would have been
snatched from their horses!

One cannot compare Flanders
to one of our southern provinces.

Why not?

They have greater autonomy,
hence they have privileges.

Flanders is a part of France,
a province like any other.

-How was my hair?
-Wonderful.

Look at it this way,

monkeys wearing golden rings
are still ugly things.

Here in Flanders, we need a ruler
with a firm hand.

One who will not be influenced
by anyone,

whose main concern is
the legitimate interests of France.

But who?

One who can combine
tact and strength.

Who can combine

diplomacy and determination?

Yes, who?

The weavers are getting restless.

That's good.

Taxes are increasing.

That's good.

It's only the weavers.

Together with their families
they form a quarter of our population.

The other guilds also feel
exploited by the French Crown.

The Flemish noblemen
with power and riches must be rallied.

There's only one way to win them over,

promise them
more money and chattels!

-True or not?
-True, Bekka.

Only one man can do that,
the only person they trust,

Robert de Béthune.

We must propose a meeting between
the Flemish noblemen and de Béthune.

-We can hardly ask them to go to Chinon.
-No…

A solution was found.

The French lord of Chinon,
Monsieur de Houssy

consented to let Count de Béthune
return to Flanders for one month

provided that someone
stood in for him.

And who took his place?

None other than his loyal squire,
Adolf van Nieuwland.

Adolf.

The house of Béthune will never forget
this noble gesture.

At your service, noble count.

It would be advisable,
my brand-new governor of Flanders,

that that daughter of de Béthune…
-Matilda.

Yes, Matilda… That she spend
some time at the French court.

-Her education would benefit by it.
-Yes.

We shall have her educated

by the most lascivious
of our ladies-in-waiting!

Who are you?

Who are you?

Leave immediately.

No! No!

In the ruins of Nieuwenhove,
there lived two hermits:

Diederik, whom the Lord had not
endowed with a voice at his birth,

and Lodewijk, who was
of a very nervous disposition.

One day, they received a visit
from a knight errant.

You there, knight errant.

Is it true that there's a disease
in Italy

when the mere breath of a sick person
runs through you like a dagger?

-Thousands have died, they say.
-The plague!

Yes, the plague.

They say it hides in the houses.

That's why I won't have any doors
or walls around me.

I want to live in the open air,
in the breath of God.

Ah, visitors!

It's very busy around here.

Don't see a living soul in months
and suddenly, it's crowded.

Five horsemen,
one horse heavily laden.

Amazed, are you?

Diederik can hear it,
he can hear everything.

-Be silent!
-Do you hear, Diederik? Be silent!

-Stay here.
-But of course, sir.

Crevel, untie her.

Monsieur de Saint-Paul,
what is this girl doing here?

What happened to her?

Sir, you seem to know me.

But I don't know you.

Who may you be?

A knight errant with no name.

Matilda.

Leave her alone.
She belongs to the Crown of France.

Her? Matilda de Béthune?

You are Robert de Béthune!

You have broken your word!

You have escaped from Chinon!

Yes, because I am Justice.

Arrest him, in the name of the King!

Crevel, take the girl away.

Matilda?

Matilda?

Can you hear me, my love?

Don't touch her! She has the plague.
Women's plague!

The Flemish noblemen convened
in secret, at long last!

Jean de Renesse and his horsemen
from the marshes of Zeeland,

the fearless Jean de Namur,
brother of de Béthune…

And not to mention
the most handsome man of the west

the soldier-priest,
Canon Willem van Gullik.

They held meetings
and more meetings,

knowing that the French
were on their way.

His purpose achieved,
de Béthune had to return to prison

since he had given his word of honour
to his jailer, Count de Houssy.

So he took his leave
from Pieter de Coninck.

"Do your duty," he said to Pieter.
"Take care of Flanders."

When he heard of his brother's death

Jacques de Châtillon,
the new governor of Flanders,

flew into a passion.

He decreed that all Clauwaerts
were to leave Bruges

or else he would
raze the city to the ground.

So the Clauwaerts left Bruges

and retired to the woods
around Damme.

The strongest of the Clauwaerts,
Jan Breydel,

also left for Damme.

Goodbye, Mother.

Goodbye, lad.

This won't last long.

Don't you worry about us, son.

Gerard, now you are head of the family.

Take care of Katrien
and your mother. Promise?

-I promise.
-Here you are.

Brother, why can't I go with you
to Damme?

You're needed here, boy.

-Understand?
-I understand.

Will you come back soon?

Please?

Do not be afraid, Katrien.

The nights will be cold
in the woods of Damme.

-I, too, want an axe.
-Run along, boy!

I have to protect Mother and Katrien.

An axe is too heavy for you.

No, an axe like yours.

So be it. An axe.

Jacques de Châtillon,
untrue to his word,

brought death and destruction
to the defenceless city of Bruges.

I have done nothing wrong!

So, a litter of Flemings!

-Let me go!
-Give me that!

Stay here!

Come here!

Go away! Leave us alone!

No!

-Give it to me!
-Just look at the young lion cub!

He will hurt you.

-I'll kill you!
-Put down that axe, boy!

-Charel, grab him.
-Never!

I am Gerard Breydel,
the brother of Jan Breydel!

-Do not touch my mother!
-Charel, grab him.

Gerard!

Gerard!

No, Gerard, no!

Gerard!

Gerard!

Woman, give us your money
and we will do you no harm.

Mother!

All we have is over here.

Mother!

Aren't they lovely jewels?

Now leave us alone.

Mother!

You, wench, come here!

Leave her alone! Let her go!

Leave her alone! Leave her, I say!

Never!

You won't take her alive!

My child.

They have murdered the Breydel family!

They have murdered the Breydel family!

It is my fault, I am to blame!

I have been a coward.

Nothing but a coward.

I…

I let her down.

No one could foresee that the French

would forsake all honour

and not keep their solemn promises.

That they'd kill hostages

in violation
of all Christian principles

and of every law.

"Don't worry about us."

That's what she said.

"Don't worry about us, son."

That's what she said to me.

That's what she said.

Jan…

We will be patient no longer.

We will tolerate patience no longer.

We can delay our vengeance no longer.

Circumstances…

We shall determine
the circumstances ourselves.

Now!

We are going to attack, Jan.

Do you mean that?

Truly?

Now?

Tonight.

Tonight.

Leaders.

A peasant waits for morning,

when it's cold.

And then, when the caterpillars are
sleeping all together in one nest,

the peasant hacks the nest
from the tree

and tramples the vermin.

So shall we do.

In the chilly morning.

The French vermin sleeps right now.

The sleep of the unrighteous.

Before the sun will rise tomorrow

we shall crush this vermin,
this nest of caterpillars.

No matter how fierce the battle,

remember this,
not a single Fleming may be killed.

We need them all,
even those who have forsaken us.

Pieter, that's easily said!
When we're in full fray…

Right… How do we know,
if it's a Frenchman or a Fleming

in the dark
in the heat of the battle?

If you cannot tell by his appearance

or if you cannot hear the difference

then ask him to say the password,

"Shield and Friend".

Shield and Friend?

If he pronounces it
"Skilt and Frend"…

Then I will pull out his tongue!

So the Clauwaerts lit a great fire
in the countryside,

a fire that was observed
from the tower of St. Blandijns.

From the clock.

It's time.

Flanders the Lion, my good friend.

Your turn, Jan.
Let your voice be heard!

Flanders the Lion!

Flanders the Lion!

Flanders the Lion!

-Shield and Friend.
-Say, "Shield and Friend."

Skilt and Frend.

Skilt and Frend!

Leroux, show yourself!

What's going on?

Are you the strangler, the hangman?

Yes, I'm Emile Leroux, the hangman.
And who are you?

I am Jan Breydel, dean of the butchers.

Friends…

Now the air of our city
has been cleansed.

It is no longer sullied
by the breath of the foreigners.

Friends, we citizens of Bruges
are no longer slaves.

But we must not be blinded
by our triumph.

Our enemy is still alive.

He will be sending
an army of hirelings to our province.

For blood calls for blood.

So, people of Bruges,
remain vigilant!

For the battle for freedom
that is to come

we are counting on you.

Long live de Coninck!

Long live Jan Breydel!

Remember this, my fellow citizens,

freedom is not given to mankind.

It has to be fought for!

Freedom

is steeped in blood.

Flanders the Lion!

Flanders the Lion!

Men, women,

be happy!

That we are, Jan!

Now go home, and drink!

Drink! Dance!

Dance!

Dance!

Dance!

Jacques de Châtillon.

By recommendation and by intrigue

you have obtained from us
the supreme honour,

that of governor
of the richest of our provinces,

Flanders.

Up till now, you seem to have performed
your duties with carelessness

and stupidity.

Where a firm hand was required,
you showed weakness.

Where tact and caution were required,

you acted as an overbearing tyrant.

Philip,
circumstances were against him.

One should control circumstances.

Jacques has been too lenient

with these heathens and barbarians,

who do not deserve to be treated
in a Christian way.

Gentlemen, we have now to consider

how to make this rabble
from the north understand

who is their King!

Gentlemen, the army that is about to
march into Flanders to punish them

will be the greatest

ever mustered in Christendom.

We have slept on this matter

and discussed it at length
with our advisors.

We have finally decided

to entrust the command of this army

to our dear friend,

the victor at Furnes and in Gascony,

the first warrior of France,
Robert d'Artois.

-Your Majesty!
-Montjoie! Montjoie!

Gentlemen, in Flanders, you shall kill

every man, every woman,

and every child.

Women and children, too,

for they bear in them
the germ of evil.

These Flemish women,

they are sows

whose teats are to be cut off.

And these children,

piglets to be roasted on the spit!

The French vanguard
carried brooms on their spears

symbolizing that they were
about to sweep away Flanders.

The Flemings were waiting
for the enemy

near the Groeninge brook.

Night fell.

Pieter de Coninck was apprehensive.

The mist is clearing.

Yes.

Looks like it's going to be
a hot day.

Yes, a hot day.

Everything all right, lads?

As long as you bring us beer!

Your butchers will be drunk
before the fight!

They can take their drink.

Some of them will be drunk
for the last time!

Our Lord Jesus Christ,

bless this righteous war

and protect our beloved King.

Giddy up!

Noblemen of Flanders,
welcome to the battlefield.

Noblemen of Flanders, alight!

Friends, the enemy is in sight.

The monster that is approaching
has many heads,

all of which are evil.

So do not hesitate.

Fight!

Each of you knows
what to expect.

Strike them dead! Strike them dead
until you are out of breath!

Remember, my friends.

Remember God, whose temples
the French have sullied!

Remember your children,

whose throats the French will cut
if you let them.

Remember your frightened wives.

Then, by the grace of God,

the French beast that is approaching

will bleed to death at our feet.

Give no quarter!
Kill knights and horses alike!

No spoils may be taken.

He who drops his weapon,
shall pick it up again.

But he who runs from the fray

seize him and kill him!

His blood be on my conscience!

Get ready. Open up!

Shoot!

Upright!

Ready!

Open!

Shoot!

Ready!

Open!

Now!

Shoot!

Shoot!

Ready!

Open!

-Shoot!
-Ready!

Open!

Now!

Shoot!

Shoot!
Take cover!

Foot soldiers!
Forward!

Take that!

You see, I was right!
They're falling back. They're fleeing!

And we have only just started!

We, knights, won't play a part!

The archers must withdraw!

Archers, withdraw!

The foot soldiers, too!
Now it is our turn!

Knights, get ready!

Noblemen, forward!

Forward, forward.

Morel, dear Morel.

Now is your chance to show me
how much you love me!

Hold the line!

Guy de Namur!

Guy de Namur!

Breydel, what is the meaning of this?

Forgive me, count,
but that man was rightfully mine!

I am d'Artois. I surrender.

Take me prisoner.

Sir, we are not allowed
to take prisoners.

I am a knight, a nobleman

and peer of France.
-Ego te absolvo.

Hundreds of golden spurs
were found on the battlefield.

That is why this blood bath was named

the Battle of the Golden Spurs.

It was no vision!
Archangel Michael was here with us!

No, it was St. George…
Not an angel, but a saint.

It was a supernatural being,
wasn't it, Pieter?

Of course.

What human being could have done
what he did?

Father!

My dear, my dearest daughter!

But how?

You were here all the time?

On the battlefield?

Yes. Only for the battle.

The golden knight… Was that you?

They believe it was an angel.

And that is what you are,
an angel!

Oh, my darling father. My angel!

Then we all knelt down and sang.

And proudly offered up
our grateful prayers

to merciful Heaven,

abode of the saints

including our Golden Knight.

May God bless him for all eternity.