Lovejoy (1986–1994): Season 6, Episode 6 - The Last of the Uzkoks - full transcript
Lord Dunham, a Lovejoy client, has consigned a centuries old Greek Orthodox artophorian for auction. It is part of a priceless communion set from an infamous clergyman who was later excommunicated. When other claimants appear and claim the artophorion as theirs, Charlotte hires Lovejoy to uncover its provenance. Everyone suspects it was stolen from Greece, but no one can prove where it came from including an ouzo-swilling Greek priest, an enigmatic Dutchman, and a ubiquitous Albanian woman who claims to be descended from the Uzkok pirates who terrified the Adriatic centuries before. As a sidebar, Lord Dunham's wife is obsessed with acquiring a full set of sketches of a village near her estate that was covered by the sea years before.
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Who would have thought it would turn up
in Suffolk one bright spring morning?
Oh, my God!
Kate, get me Lovejoy!
It's me.
Lord Dunwich gave me an
artophorion to auction for him.
Now I've had a fax from the
Greek Orthodox Church in London
saying it's theirs and
they want it back!
The auction's tomorrow!
Where are you, Lovejoy?
Charles Keene sketches
of Dunwich on Sea, 1855.
Lovely little town.
And it hasn't changed a bit.
Except it's under 30 feet of water.
It finally disappeared in 1856.
Somewhere under that lot, the whole
town is perfectly preserved.
- Lovejoy!
- Hello!
Lady Dunwich, mistress
of all she surveys.
Stay.
Ach!
You owe me 12,000, Nicky!
So do you think you can find the two
originals to complete my collection?
Mm.
So then you'll have a record
of what you would have owned
if you'd been around a
couple of hundred years ago?
I was.
Jamie, what's wrong with Nicky?
Bad loser, darling.
Charles Keene. I saw a couple
of these last year at auction.
- Hello?
- Which one is Lady Dunwich missing?
- This one...
- That's one of the ones I saw!
It's Charlotte.
She wants you. Something about
provenancing an arty... arty...
- Artophorion?
- Yeah. What's that?
A silver breadbin.
- A silver breadbin.
- Charlotte says it's urgent.
Tell her I'll call her back.
If it's really urgent, she'll
tell me to name my own price.
Here's the other one I saw.
- That's the one she wants.
- Who bought 'em? Who was it?
Lord Dunwich,
I really am terribly sorry...
What's all this about?
Is somebody challenging my ownership?
I really can't apologise enough,
but with the auction coming up,
the last thing we need is an argument
about who owns the artophorion,
especially with a bishop.
It's an interesting claim.
Can he prove it?
Of course not.
It's your property.
I'm sure the whole thing will
be cleared up by return of fax.
We just need to let the Bishop know
how you came by your artophorion.
No, I'm afraid that's impossible.
Well, what do you want
me to tell him, then?
I don't know!
Charlie Gimbert!
No, Charlotte again.
No, the sketches - Charlie
bought them at auction last year
in a job lot with an
Edwardian chimneypiece,
so they weren't advertised for sale,
- which is why I couldn't remember.
- Lovejoy!
Charlotte really wants you to go over
and provenance this artophorion.
Tell him he can name his own price!
And she says you can
name your own price.
Right, Tink, go and sort
Charlie out for Lady Dunwich
and I'll go and look
at this artophorion.
Er, can we help you?
Er, just looking.
It is by appointment only, you know?
Charlie?
Charlie?
Charlie!
Charlie, is everything all right?
What do you want?
- I'm looking for Charlie Gimbert.
- You're not the only one.
Have you any idea where he is?
I'm not supposed to say.
Why not?!
He needs both his legs if
he's gonna keep on running.
- Lovejoy's inside with Bill.
- Thank God!
It's a communion vessel for holding
bread after the Eucharist.
Greek Orthodox Church.
With a bit of research, we can
probably tell you who the saint is.
He looks like Tinker.
Not unless there's a
patron saint of ouzo.
How old is it?
It comes from that period they
call the Dark Age of Greece,
Charlotte, when, if the Ottomans didn't
plunder it, Lord Elgin looted it.
It's tough to place anything
between 1450 and 1800.
It's probably been nicked half a
dozen times since it was made.
Not by Lord Dunwich, surely?
- Lord Dunwich?
- You know him?
I'm working for his wife.
Charles Keene, Victorian
pen and ink sketches.
I know Charlie kept all
sorts of odds and sods here
when he couldn't find a buyer.
What do you want 'em for?
I'll explain all that to
Charlie when he gets back.
Oh...
He's all right, is he?
That's a matter of opinion.
They came with a fireplace, sketches.
I can't have people poking around here.
Come on, you'll have to go.
Did Charlie say when
he was coming back?
- You must think I was born yesterday.
- Hardly.
What did you mean, it was a matter
of opinion if he was all right?
Well, let's see.
He's all right, if you like liars.
For a thief, I suppose he's all right.
As a cheating, devious parasite,
he's more than all right, in't he?
World class.
It sounds as if you've
done business with him.
I'm not that daft. I'm his father.
The Greek Orthodox Church is accusing
Lord Dunwich of stealing it.
Tried asking where he got it?
I'm not a complete
fool - I already have.
- So what did he say?
- He didn't.
- He must have got it from somewhere.
- I quite agree.
And Lovejoy's going to find
out from where... aren't you?
Someone's beaten you to it.
He's waiting outside.
- Punter?
- A priest.
Thieves! Looters!
That artophorion belongs to my church!
I'm already dealing with
your bishop in London.
He's not my bishop.
- Aren't you Greek Orthodox?
- Certainly not!
I am Father Niarchos from
the Church of Pangalos.
This artophorion was made for
Archbishop Pangalos in 1660.
Do you have any proof of
that, Father Niarchos?
Proof?! It is written, "Those who doubt
shall descend into the fires of hell."
I didn't say I doubted it - I
just asked if you could prove it.
There is your proof!
Archbishop Pangalos, my patriarch.
This letter from the Orthodox Church
didn't mention any... Pangalos.
That's because they excommunicated him!
They sacked our towns and they
ransacked our communion sets.
This auction cannot go ahead!
Everyone reckons Lord Dunwich stole it.
I'd put money on it. If he won't
say where he got the artophorion,
he must have something to hide.
It's 10 to 1 he nicked it.
I'd have bet 100 to 1 against
what Tinker found out about Charlie.
- That he'd done a bunk?
- That he had a father.
Lovejoy!
My wife expecting you?
Well, actually, it's you I've
come to see, Lord Dunwich...
about provenancing the artophorion.
You're wasting your time, Lovejoy.
I've already tried.
- Are you an expert?
- No-one is.
The whole period is
entirely undocumented.
In fact, I'll offer you double
what Cavendish's are paying
to prove that there is no
provenance on the artophorion.
- Can he do that?
- Why not?
Charlotte'd kill
him, for one thing!
You'll get paid twice.
The harder you work to establish
for Cavendish's that
there is a provenance,
the more secure I'll feel
that there isn't one.
If there isn't one.
- Oh, there isn't one!
- Wait a minute!
No-one who's got an antique to sell
wants to prove it hasn't got a history.
- I do!
- Why?
Cos it's nicked?
My dear girl, I don't steal.
When I was younger, I prided myself in
being one of the most disreputable men
on the cross-benches. And that's saying
something. I lied, I gambled, I drank,
- I philandered...
- But he doesn't steal!
I can vouch for that.
Mr Gimbert.
Senior.
Ah, Senor Gimbert.
Busco los...
No, no, no, no, no, no -
senior as in citizen.
I'm his father.
- You will show me your chimneypiece.
- Do what?
Two Charles Keene sketches
were bought in the same lot
with an Edwardian chimneypiece.
How do you know about them?
Your son has sold the sketches?
I am a fast woman.
You'll tell me who has them.
Hold on! Hold on!
- Nice to see you again, Lovejoy.
- Lady Dunwich.
Oh! And that jacket!
You just have to be Tinky.
You know, I have dreamed of this moment.
I am an habituee of auctions all
over East Anglia, all over England!
And I have been hearing uncanny
things about you. Oh, such mystique!
- Are they true, Tinky?
- Tinker, actually.
And they say that he only has to look at
an antique to put an exact price on it.
If he could do that,
he'd be a millionaire.
Well, of course, but who needs it when
you've got a... gift? What's the word?
I remember! Divvy.
That's what they call you!
Isn't that just yuck?
I mean, the French are so
much more elegant. Un devin!
Sounds like a sofa!
Oh, you must tell me all
of your secrets, Tinky.
Now, you would think that the Earl
of Dunwich would be interested
in Dunwich antiques, wouldn't you?
I mean, take these
Charles Keene drawings.
He'd love to!
And Beth!
Have we got a deal, Lovejoy?
Yeah, I don't see why not.
I don't think Charlotte would object.
Ethics?
No, she's not an ethics girl.
Yes, there's been a lot of
interest in these pictures.
You're lucky you got to me first.
- You hold them here?
- For safekeeping, yeah.
Of course, the best form of security
is a contrived appearance of neglect.
Then you must be a very safe man.
Here's your moniker. Charles Keene.
Do they have a provenance?
Oh, yes. They've been in the family
for... ooh, I don't know how long.
- ?500.
- 500?!
That's all I can afford.
If it's not enough, I won't
waste any more of your time.
No, just a minute. What I mean is ?500
is a lot less than I ought to ask.
Maybe we can come to
some sort of compromise.
What about... ?1,000 the pair?
I need only one.
Lord Dunwich is innocent
until proven guilty.
The priest may very well be sincere,
but obviously he hasn't got any proof,
otherwise he'd have gone to the police.
There you are!
If the whole Greek Orthodox Church
can't prove where the thing comes from
- after 300 years of trying...
- Bill, bill, taxman...
what chance do you have?
A very good chance of
getting paid twice.
- And a postcard from Charlie Gimbert!
- Hello...
He's flopping about on a
beach in the Cayman Islands!
- Go on, read it.
- "Dear Lovejoy,
"I've had to take a short
holiday for health reasons.
"Terrible back trouble.
Keep an eye on the shop. Cash only.
"All proceeds to be remitted to Mr
Tinker Dill, care of the Cayman Bank..."
The scoundrel!
He's using me as an alias!
"PS, if my father turns up,
don't play poker with him."
Tinky, I wouldn't have
missed this for the world.
You're like an antique detective,
I mean antiques detective.
It's Tinker, actually.
Clear off!
Mr Gimbert, your son has sent me
explicit instructions to take
his property off your hands.
Well, I can do that myself.
I sold one of those pictures
yesterday for ?500.
Well, that is a pity, because Lady
Dunwich here wanted the pair.
Oh! Lady Dunwich.
Lovejoy did agree to provenance
the artophorion, didn't he?
Of course.
Told him to name his own price.
- So what's the problem?
- He's working for Lord Dunwich.
And you think that's unethical?
Completely! It's exactly
what I'd expect him to do.
Then you can't really be
disappointed with him.
I'm not disappointed with him.
I don't care if he works for somebody else.
If he wants to get paid twice over
for the same job, that's fine by me.
- So you're not bothered?
- No.
He could tell Tinker,
he could tell Beth.
He did tell Beth and she told me.
The only reason he won't tell me
is cos he thinks I'll be annoyed.
- You are annoyed.
- I'm not!
You are!
I'm only annoyed because
I'm not annoyed.
I've been told I've
been a Romanian gypsy,
a butcher's boy
and an Indian princess.
But what I was first, Tinky,
you will never guess.
Somebody with a very
good memory for names?
Oh!
Lady Dunwich! I was what I am today
in a past life. Isn't that unbelievable?
Unbelievable.
They say what goes around comes around,
and you're always reincarnated
with the same thing.
So when I was the
17th-century Lady Dunwich,
you and Lovejoy and Beth,
you must have all been there.
Americans...
Hmm... I bet you were one of those
guys who went from town to town
- fixing things. Know what I mean?
- A tinker?
Oh, no! I wouldn't have
had you killed for that.
I'm sure my boy Charlie knows your
husband from the Caligula Club.
That's a small gentlemen's retreat in
London. You know the sort of place -
kippers, custard and cocoa.
And a 24-hour casino,
according to Jamie.
All Saints Church.
Charles Keene must have been one
of the last people to see it.
Oh, and he's captured it perfectly!
It's exactly what it looks like!
- I thought it was under the sea.
- It is.
- How do you know what it looks like?
- I'm not just the lady of the manor!
I have a whole other life.
Lady Dunwich is interested in history.
Very interested.
And it's absolutely gorgeous!
Oh, what a shame the other one's been sold.
- I wanna buy the pair.
- Ah...
Wally!
- I can call you Wally, can't I?
- Well, actually...
- Because I'm very rich.
- I don't want you making the mistake
of thinking that Wally
Gimbert can be bought...
cheap.
I've been rich, Wally, ever
since I've been a little girl
and I find it keeps me young.
So I'm going to hold my breath
till I get what I want.
So Lovejoy still hasn't
mentioned anything?
No. I'm not annoyed. I'm not offended.
And I'm not disappointed.
It doesn't concern me.
I'm sure Lovejoy will do
his best for both of you.
The subject is closed.
If Lovejoy thinks I'm some sort
of a Miss Goody Two-Shoes
who's going to get the vapours at the
slightest hint of sharp practice,
that's his business.
Why don't you just ask him if
it's upsetting you so much?
It is not upsetting me!
Mm. Top-up?
Oh, no, no, no, no - I'm fine.
So tell me more about
this Archbishop Pangalos.
He performed miracles.
If you want to stop this
auction, you'll need one.
Ah, we were under Ottoman rule.
It was the Dark Age of Greece.
- You need more proof than that.
- Proof - how dare you ask for proof
when you have his picture on it
and the word of a man of God?!
And what's more, we have photographs.
The other picture's already sold.
It can't be unsold.
Come on, Your Ladyship.
There's negotiation and negotiation!
I will not bow to blackmail!
- How long is it now?
- Three minutes.
No-one can hold their
breath for three minutes!
It's nearly four.
Reason with her.
Would you respond to reason?
Do you think this is going to work?
What if it doesn't?
All right, all right!
Perhaps "sold" is putting it a bit strong.
It's on approval to some Albanian lady.
They're both still on the market?
Fabulous!
You can arrange a price with Tinky.
I shall be at the London Embassy Hotel.
See you in a couple of days.
A chalice and a paten.
They are kept at a museum in Athens.
They date from the late 17th century.
And they all bear Archbishop
Pangalos's image.
And they're part of a set.
Archbishop Pangalos's
personal communion set.
And all that is missing from that set
is an artophorion, an artophorion
exactly like this artophorion.
Charlotte!
There's a communion set in Athens
that matches your artophorion perfectly.
Why didn't you tell her?
Why didn't you tell me?
I didn't know.
Really?
It's in all our interests to
find out as much as we can.
If that's true, why don't you just say
where the artophorion comes from?
- Oh, no. That's out of the question.
- Only a guilty man remains silent.
Tell me a bit more about this Pangalos
chappie. He's obviously the key.
You stole the artophorion.
Look at the photographs!
It's obviously part of the same set.
They are very similar, I must admit,
but that artophorion
couldn't be part of my set.
Why not?
Because...
it's part of this communion set.
I cannot believe it! Not just a Pangalos
artophorion but the complete set!
This is the greatest thing to happen
to my church since Greek independence.
- I must get it back.
- Back?!
We haven't the slightest proof Lord
Dunwich stole it in the first place!
So the auction can go ahead.
I should never have let
myself be sidetracked by you
and I certainly shouldn't have
steamed into Lord Dunwich.
I'll have to find some way to
apologise and you should do the same.
Me? Why?
Well, if you don't know, I don't know.
- I don't know!
- Fine. Then neither of us know, do we?
It was a stupid thing for me to say,
unless there's something
you've forgotten to tell me.
Is there?
- Oh, for God's sake!
- Charlotte!
Have I annoyed you in some way?
I want to make it absolutely plain to
you, Lovejoy, that you do not annoy me.
And that is what is so
completely infuriating!
Charlotte! Charlotte!
So the auctioneers are not even
going to wait for a provenance?
I will have to do it myself.
You don't have to.
But you are already working
for Miss Cavendish, yes?
As long as I find out the
truth about the artophorion,
I don't care who pays.
So you must know about the Uzkoks.
- The who?
- The Uzkoks.
I knew this wasn't my day.
Ever since you told Lady
Dunwich not to buy my sketch.
For ?1,000?! She may be a
lunatic, but she's not daft.
- Oh?
- She's not a soft touch.
You've seen the way she negotiates.
Well, if I can get hold of the other
one, I can offer her the pair.
We'll have to find your Albanian woman.
I can't get hold of her.
The phone number she gave me is a dud.
What is it?
An exchange from the Cayman Islands?
Oh, you know about Charlie, then?
Like father, like son.
How do you mean?
We got a surprise card.
The Uzkoks were a tribe of pirates
until Archbishop Pangalos
converted them to Christianity.
He performed a water miracle.
He stopped the sea at the
very steps of their city.
Like a Greek Canute?
No! Canute was a failure!
Pangalos never failed.
He was a saint.
Or at least he would have been if the
Greek Church had not excommunicated him.
- What about the Uzkoks?
- The Uzkoks?
My church sacrificed everything
to them and what thanks did we get?
After 300 years of shielding
them from the heathen Turks,
what do you think they did when
the Ottoman Empire collapsed?
They converted to Islam!
Well, some people just gotta be difficult.
Are you sure Dunwich stole that set?
Of course I am sure.
It is as true as the miracles
of Archbishop Pangalos,
and one day, I mean to prove it.
Or at least, you will.
Cash.
My archbishop could have done with
a man like you against the Uzkoks.
Here's to Archbishop Pangalos!
And miracles.
So what you're saying is
that Charlie did a runner,
not because of the million quid he
owed the banks for Felsham Hall,
but because of metal detectors?!
Well, it seemed like a
good business opportunity.
Do you mean the anorak brigade
that come out of a Sunday
and dig up Roman Britain?
They sell it on to Charlie.
For a fraction of the market value.
And he passes it on to several
business acquaintances.
Sounds dangerous.
Of course, they overlooked
the law of treasure trove.
A few months later, these acquaintances
get a visit from the Home Office.
Every antique they own is
seized for the nation.
That's what happens if you
don't do your homework.
Course, Charlie don't
have a leg to stand on
or he won't have if
his mates catch him.
There's always the abandonment clause.
Oh, yeah? If you can prove the stuff was
deliberately thrown away, it's yours?
Discarded.
Discarded, yeah. The Home Office must be
laughing up their sleeve at that one.
Dealer takes three.
Couldn't Charlie pay his friends back?
Oh, he tried. Sent me to see
them with a down payment.
- Course, I invested it unwisely.
- What in?
17 black and then 29 red.
Well, they own this club, and
I can't resist a flutter.
So in a sense, I did pay them back.
Only not being sportsmen,
they didn't see it like that.
Aren't you frightened
they'll come after you?
Oh, no. No, no, no.
I'll co-operate with them unconditionally.
I even gave them the name of
some of Charlie's aliases.
What aliases?
Tinker Dill, for one.
I gave him the opportunity to confess,
and he practically lied in my face.
Lovejoy wouldn't
deliberately deceive you.
So he's accidentally lying, is he?
It's probably an oversight.
He's got other things on his mind
and he probably wasn't
thinking about you at all.
Good. The feeling's mutual.
No, no, I mean he just
didn't bother to tell you
because it's not that important,
because he knows it wouldn't annoy you.
It didn't! But it does now!
When I see him again, I'm going to...
Punter outside with a
picture to show you.
- Fancy a coffee, Bill?
- Thanks.
Do you like Charles Keene?
Sorry.
I now have proof that
Lord Dunwich stole the artophorion.
There's a matching set in Athens.
I know.
Lord Dunwich's only claim
is that he can pay for a
provenance and we can't.
The one thing
Lord Dunwich can't afford
is a successful provenance.
But you can.
How? We're a poor church.
Employ a poor man.
I'm afraid Jamie isn't in right now,
but I'll happily pass on your apology.
Although it's hardly necessary.
He's as concerned as you are to have the
provenance thoroughly investigated.
There's no reason to delay
the sale on that account.
Cavendish's would be delighted to
auction the complete communion set.
Lord Dunwich can assume we're entirely
at his disposal, and yours too.
- Mine?
- A peace offering.
These photographs don't prove anything.
But the artophorion completes the set.
So do a chalice, a salver and a paten.
Lord Dunwich has his own set.
Father Niarchos made the same mistake.
Who?
Father Niarchos - belongs to the
church of Archbishop Pangalos
in Santa Maura.
He thinks he owns it, too.
- Santa Maura...
- Mm.
Was flooded in 1687.
The church was utterly destroyed.
No-one has worshipped at the shrine
of Santa Maura for over 300 years.
And Father Niarchos?
Father Niarchos?
I know every Orthodox priest in England.
There's no Father Niarchos.
Tinky! Tell Wally I'll pay whatever
he wants for the view of All Saints.
He's holding you to ransom!
His picture doesn't even complete the set.
There's still the sketch
of Greyfriars Priory.
This sketch?
This lady's an answer to
a collector's prayer.
A Miss Scandinavia.
Iskander. Lara Iskander.
It's the real thing. Genuine.
Surely this gentleman
is not Mr Lovejoy.
I won't have anyone but him
authenticate my picture.
But Tinky says it's
the genuine article.
Is he a divvy?
I'm dealing with the Charles Keene
drawings on Lovejoy's behalf.
That's right!
He's a divvy manque.
I don't want the manque.
I want the organ-grinder.
How many people
are you working for, Lovejoy?
I suppose you would have continued
taking my church's money
whilst betraying it to its plunderers.
That would be difficult, considering
your church doesn't have any money.
But we have right on our side and
generations of history in the set.
I'm more interested in
your history, Niarchos.
From what I can work out, you have
been dead for almost 300 years!
All right, so I'm not a priest -
just a Greek!
But those antiques belong to Greece
just as much as the Elgin Marbles do.
And you have a nerve calling
me a liar, Lovejoy!
The English have exploited
Greece worse than anyone else...
- except perhaps the Uzkoks.
- Oh, not them again!
I'm leaving now, Lovejoy.
And if you try to follow me, you
will get what my people got -
the Uzkok turban!
The Uzkok turban?!
- Morning, Bill.
- I wouldn't be in your shoes.
- Is it all right to go in?
- It's your funeral.
Hello? Everything all right?
Of course it's all right.
Why shouldn't it be all right?
There's a bit of an
atmosphere out there.
Did something or somebody offend you?
No, I'm not offended.
- You sure?
- Certain.
- Mm-hm.
- Strange as it may seem,
- I'm very hard to offend.
- That's what I thought,
- but I'm just here to collect my fee.
- What?!
Oh! Dear me!
To collect my fee for the provenance.
You haven't established
a provenance yet.
Yes, I have. The communion set was
made in Santa Maura around 1680
for Archbishop Pangalos.
Then it was lost about seven years later,
probably during the flood
that destroyed the town.
Then Lord Dunwich unearthed it in Greece
and then smuggled it back to England.
In other words, he nicked it.
That's Niarchos's story and
you've unmasked him as a fraud.
Yes, I have, but it squares exactly
with what the Orthodox Church told me.
You'd better put these on, sir.
Expecting a cold spell, Bill?
Punter.
I thought you were prepared to give
Dunwich the benefit of the doubt.
Yeah, I am, but...
Somehow he must have known that
Niarchos's story wouldn't stand up.
He stole it all right - we
just don't know where from.
- I can't auction stolen goods!
- Legally, why not?
All the original owners are dead.
What about my reputation?
Cavendish auctioneers -
plunderers to the nobility!
- You'll be in good company.
- No, thank you!
You'll have to persuade the
Bishop to drop his claim.
If you're right, there's no-one
on the face of the earth
who seems to have the slightest
idea what's happened to that set
between 1687 and today.
Yes, there is.
I know just what happened.
Who are you?
I am the last of the Uzkoks.
Captains would drive their
ships onto the rocks
rather than fall into the
hands of my ancestors.
They liked to rip out the
still-beating hearts
of their Venetian captives
and eat them in a banquet.
Mmm!
Or nail the turbans of Turkish
prisoners to their heads.
The Uzkok turban.
They were equally fond of flaying,
disembowelment and impalement.
We're not disputing their cruelty, Lara,
merely their title to the communion set.
The most they can claim
is that they stole it.
The Uzkoks may have raped and pillaged
anything that moved in the Adriatic,
but they were devout Christians.
Archbishop Pangalos saw to that.
Didn't he object to their piracy?
Object to it?! He organised it!
But he only sold Turkish booty.
Christian gold and silver was melted
down and made into communion sets.
Oh, I'll bet that made the
victims feel a whole lot better!
Pangalos was a pirate priest
of a renegade church.
No wonder he was excommunicated.
A saint, a man who could
perform water miracles.
But what do I care what
the Greeks thought?
And as the last of the Uzkoks,
I claim his communion set.
You'll need a provenance.
Very well.
I will hire you to establish it.
Would you excuse us, Lara?
I've never heard of the Uzkoks.
You need to talk to Lovejoy.
He's handling the provenance for me now.
But at least you confirmed something.
If that communion set belongs to
Lord Dunwich, I'm a Dutchman.
No, I'm the Dutchman.
- I think I'll take her up on her offer.
- You will, will you?
Yeah.
Well, at least you've come clean.
And you're not annoyed?
I am not annoyed.
- Really?
- Really.
Good, because there's something
else I want to tell you.
I'm also working for Lord
Dunwich and the Bishop.
And you don't have a problem with that?
- Not if you don't.
- So why didn't you tell me?
I just did.
You're fired!
See, I knew you'd be annoyed!
?500 is my final offer.
Yeah, but you're not buying
it, Lady Dunwich is.
Under my advice.
How can you advise the Shirley
MacLaine of East Anglia?
She thinks she's been reincarnated.
- Who was she before?
- Lady Dunwich, 1687.
She can give you a guided
tour of the sunken village,
- show you where she drowned Tinker.
- She is a little eccentric.
She's a raving obsessive!
One picture short of a collection!
My picture.
I'm going to advise her to hold out.
You won't find another buyer.
Already have.
What's Greek for VAT?
I hope you're not thinking of offering
less than four figures for this.
Please, Mr Gimbert, do not insult me!
I want to buy it, not
take it out for lunch.
Shall we say...
?12,000?
There's no VAT for cash.
I never carry more than
1,000 in a convertible.
Well, I can't take a cheque.
I see that you are a
gambling man, Mr Gimbert.
Depends what I stand to win.
It's hard to check
much of Miss Iskander's story.
But she's right about
the water miracles.
It wasn't just their
victims that hated them.
It appeared the sea
loathed them as well.
Pangalos had to stand at their
dock and hold back the storm.
There are similar legends about
him all over the Aegean.
And he always used the same technique.
He'd cast a communion set
upon the angry waves.
And sometimes it worked!
The way he figured it was
God would hardly condemn a
saint to eternal damnation.
So he set forth a campaign for
his own self-canonisation.
Well, he had the water miracles.
He also had enough Turkish booty
to bribe a college of cardinals.
But the Greek Orthodox Church
wanted nothing to do with him.
- Because he was an Uzkok?
- Because he was an Uzkok.
So he decided to try his luck in Rome.
I bet il Papa was even less
sympathetic than the Greeks.
Well, it looks like it, because
after that he disappeared.
- There was a church right there, Beth.
- Mm-hm?
In 1687, it was submerged.
Lady Dunwich hired a
priest from Holland
who commanded the sea to
retreat, like Canute.
You sound like you've
been there before.
I was. That's why I have a
collection of all these originals.
Walter Gimbert says he's
found another buyer.
So give him what he asks.
Look, if I want something, I've
gotta have it, at any cost.
I suppose your husband felt the
same about the communion set?
You still think that he stole it?
- Everybody does.
- Even Lovejoy?
Especially Lovejoy.
I knew he was the man for the job!
He wants to talk to you
about the artophorion.
Well, he's welcome to view it,
but I can't accept any
offers before the auction.
You have the whole set?
No, but I do have access to it.
Good. I wish to claim the lot.
Your archbishop wandered about
the eastern Mediterranean
chucking away silver.
The Dunwich communion set could
have come from anywhere -
Montenegro, Macedonia,
Corfu, Cyprus, Albania...
So you see, we're back where we started.
The communion set does
not have a provenance.
Lovejoy Antiques...
You take my money and you don't
even do your own research!
I always work with Tinky.
Charlotte!
I thought I was fired... Miss Cavendish.
You were, but something's come up.
- So who's he?
- The Dutch Land Reclamation Society.
Archbishop Pangalos only escaped
from Rome with his life
by fleeing to my country.
The Dutch welcomed him with open arms.
We'd spent hundreds of years
trying to turn back the sea
and were prepared to accept
help from any quarter.
Pangalos duly obliged
and threw a communion set into
the North Sea at Stellendam.
Another water miracle!
Just so. That's why the communion
set has to belong to my society.
My... very well-funded society.
You'll need a provenance.
Very well. You're my man.
Would you excuse us a moment?
How much do you want for it, Nicky?
Nothing...
except a scrap of paper.
Your husband holds a gambling
marker of mine for a tiny sum.
Consider it settled.
Just as soon as I've run a few checks.
As far as I'm concerned, Lovejoy,
our relationship is at an end.
You're an auctioneer, I'm a dealer.
We can't avoid each other.
You know perfectly well what I mean!
You hired me to do a job,
I'm trying to do it.
Yes, for me!
Not for a peer of the realm, a fake
priest, a lady pirate and a Dutchman!
Unless you're sleeping
with any of them, too!
Oh, come on, Charlotte! I didn't think
you'd fly off the handle over this.
- What?!
- You're overreacting.
- What?!
- You're overreacting!
You're getting paid six times
over for the same job!
You should be pleased, not
behave like a punter.
That's all I am to you, another punter.
If that's what you want out
of this relationship, fine!
Oh, Charlotte.
But everything else... is off!
A-hem.
- A question, Mr Bergkamp.
- Yes?
Pangalos. What happened to him?
- He came to Britain.
- When?
In 1688, with William and Mary.
You see, the Dutch Reformed
Church doesn't recognise saints
and the Church of England
needed a miracle.
A historic English church
was sliding into the sea.
- What church was that?
- I don't know.
I think I do.
The communion set wasn't
found in Greece or Holland
or anywhere in the Mediterranean.
- It was found here.
- Here?
Pangalos came to Dunwich
to save All Saints.
- He did?
- He didn't.
There's a sunken church out there?
And a medieval village
and a Roman fort.
This is where Dunwich
found his communion set.
- He pulled it out of the water!
- So why didn't he say so?
Because of the laws of treasure-trove.
If it was buried in the village,
it belonged to the Crown.
But if he kept quiet, the
communion set was his by default.
Dunwich couldn't care less who
thought he'd stolen it from Greece,
as long as they couldn't prove it!
And they never could because he hadn't.
But can you prove it?
I can prove he's a diver.
Lord Dunwich!
Ah, Lovejoy!
I've just been out to check my
drawing with the real thing.
Isn't that right, Jamie?
Yeah, I thought I'd
take a short holiday.
Do us a favour, Tinker.
Look after the shop for us, there's a pal.
And if there's any income,
just send it on to my bank.
"All proceeds to be
remitted to Mr Lovejoy,
"care of the Cayman National Bank"?
You've got a nerve!
And if a Greek fellow turns up called
Niarchos, don't play poker with him.
Did you lose your shirt?
- It's the old back trouble again.
- Runs in the family.
We all run in my family!
I would have bet my life the communion
set couldn't be provenanced.
Especially after you two
invented Father Niarchos.
So why was Niarchos working for you?
Oh, he owed me.
- You hired him to accuse you of theft?
- The more claims, the merrier.
But now my debt is settled, you
can do your own dirty work.
Lord Dunwich?
You've cost me an awful lot of money!
- You haven't heard my provenance yet.
- We already know it.
Pangalos came to Dunwich in 1689
to perform a water miracle to save
the church. He drowned in the attempt
and was buried somewhere in
the All Saints graveyard.
That's where I found the set.
And Pangalos always performed
the water miracle the same way.
- Didn't he, Miss Iskander?
- But of course.
He cast a communion set into the waves.
Fascinating! Pity it didn't work.
Cast? You mean he threw it?
- Barbarian!
- Is that a turban?
Jamie! He threw it!
Frankly, darling, it doesn't matter
if he served moussaka from it.
- It's treasure-trove.
- No, it isn't! He didn't bury it!
He threw it away.
Discarded it.
And anything that's knowingly discarded
belongs to whoever finds it.
Legally, that's what
makes the difference.
Are you saying we're the
rightful owners after all?
You always have been.
So I can auction the whole communion
set with a full provenance!
It's the commission of a lifetime!
I'm afraid not, Miss Cavendish.
You see, if we're the legal owners
then I'll sell it in New York.
It'll fetch a far higher price
than some backwater saleroom
in Suffolk. Come on, darling.
Thank you, Lovejoy.
But it's all based on my provenance!
- I paid for it.
- I, too.
- And me!
- And me!
And me!
Fortunately, so did we!
I know who's going to pay for it!
www.mytotal.tv THE BEST TV APP
Who would have thought it would turn up
in Suffolk one bright spring morning?
Oh, my God!
Kate, get me Lovejoy!
It's me.
Lord Dunwich gave me an
artophorion to auction for him.
Now I've had a fax from the
Greek Orthodox Church in London
saying it's theirs and
they want it back!
The auction's tomorrow!
Where are you, Lovejoy?
Charles Keene sketches
of Dunwich on Sea, 1855.
Lovely little town.
And it hasn't changed a bit.
Except it's under 30 feet of water.
It finally disappeared in 1856.
Somewhere under that lot, the whole
town is perfectly preserved.
- Lovejoy!
- Hello!
Lady Dunwich, mistress
of all she surveys.
Stay.
Ach!
You owe me 12,000, Nicky!
So do you think you can find the two
originals to complete my collection?
Mm.
So then you'll have a record
of what you would have owned
if you'd been around a
couple of hundred years ago?
I was.
Jamie, what's wrong with Nicky?
Bad loser, darling.
Charles Keene. I saw a couple
of these last year at auction.
- Hello?
- Which one is Lady Dunwich missing?
- This one...
- That's one of the ones I saw!
It's Charlotte.
She wants you. Something about
provenancing an arty... arty...
- Artophorion?
- Yeah. What's that?
A silver breadbin.
- A silver breadbin.
- Charlotte says it's urgent.
Tell her I'll call her back.
If it's really urgent, she'll
tell me to name my own price.
Here's the other one I saw.
- That's the one she wants.
- Who bought 'em? Who was it?
Lord Dunwich,
I really am terribly sorry...
What's all this about?
Is somebody challenging my ownership?
I really can't apologise enough,
but with the auction coming up,
the last thing we need is an argument
about who owns the artophorion,
especially with a bishop.
It's an interesting claim.
Can he prove it?
Of course not.
It's your property.
I'm sure the whole thing will
be cleared up by return of fax.
We just need to let the Bishop know
how you came by your artophorion.
No, I'm afraid that's impossible.
Well, what do you want
me to tell him, then?
I don't know!
Charlie Gimbert!
No, Charlotte again.
No, the sketches - Charlie
bought them at auction last year
in a job lot with an
Edwardian chimneypiece,
so they weren't advertised for sale,
- which is why I couldn't remember.
- Lovejoy!
Charlotte really wants you to go over
and provenance this artophorion.
Tell him he can name his own price!
And she says you can
name your own price.
Right, Tink, go and sort
Charlie out for Lady Dunwich
and I'll go and look
at this artophorion.
Er, can we help you?
Er, just looking.
It is by appointment only, you know?
Charlie?
Charlie?
Charlie!
Charlie, is everything all right?
What do you want?
- I'm looking for Charlie Gimbert.
- You're not the only one.
Have you any idea where he is?
I'm not supposed to say.
Why not?!
He needs both his legs if
he's gonna keep on running.
- Lovejoy's inside with Bill.
- Thank God!
It's a communion vessel for holding
bread after the Eucharist.
Greek Orthodox Church.
With a bit of research, we can
probably tell you who the saint is.
He looks like Tinker.
Not unless there's a
patron saint of ouzo.
How old is it?
It comes from that period they
call the Dark Age of Greece,
Charlotte, when, if the Ottomans didn't
plunder it, Lord Elgin looted it.
It's tough to place anything
between 1450 and 1800.
It's probably been nicked half a
dozen times since it was made.
Not by Lord Dunwich, surely?
- Lord Dunwich?
- You know him?
I'm working for his wife.
Charles Keene, Victorian
pen and ink sketches.
I know Charlie kept all
sorts of odds and sods here
when he couldn't find a buyer.
What do you want 'em for?
I'll explain all that to
Charlie when he gets back.
Oh...
He's all right, is he?
That's a matter of opinion.
They came with a fireplace, sketches.
I can't have people poking around here.
Come on, you'll have to go.
Did Charlie say when
he was coming back?
- You must think I was born yesterday.
- Hardly.
What did you mean, it was a matter
of opinion if he was all right?
Well, let's see.
He's all right, if you like liars.
For a thief, I suppose he's all right.
As a cheating, devious parasite,
he's more than all right, in't he?
World class.
It sounds as if you've
done business with him.
I'm not that daft. I'm his father.
The Greek Orthodox Church is accusing
Lord Dunwich of stealing it.
Tried asking where he got it?
I'm not a complete
fool - I already have.
- So what did he say?
- He didn't.
- He must have got it from somewhere.
- I quite agree.
And Lovejoy's going to find
out from where... aren't you?
Someone's beaten you to it.
He's waiting outside.
- Punter?
- A priest.
Thieves! Looters!
That artophorion belongs to my church!
I'm already dealing with
your bishop in London.
He's not my bishop.
- Aren't you Greek Orthodox?
- Certainly not!
I am Father Niarchos from
the Church of Pangalos.
This artophorion was made for
Archbishop Pangalos in 1660.
Do you have any proof of
that, Father Niarchos?
Proof?! It is written, "Those who doubt
shall descend into the fires of hell."
I didn't say I doubted it - I
just asked if you could prove it.
There is your proof!
Archbishop Pangalos, my patriarch.
This letter from the Orthodox Church
didn't mention any... Pangalos.
That's because they excommunicated him!
They sacked our towns and they
ransacked our communion sets.
This auction cannot go ahead!
Everyone reckons Lord Dunwich stole it.
I'd put money on it. If he won't
say where he got the artophorion,
he must have something to hide.
It's 10 to 1 he nicked it.
I'd have bet 100 to 1 against
what Tinker found out about Charlie.
- That he'd done a bunk?
- That he had a father.
Lovejoy!
My wife expecting you?
Well, actually, it's you I've
come to see, Lord Dunwich...
about provenancing the artophorion.
You're wasting your time, Lovejoy.
I've already tried.
- Are you an expert?
- No-one is.
The whole period is
entirely undocumented.
In fact, I'll offer you double
what Cavendish's are paying
to prove that there is no
provenance on the artophorion.
- Can he do that?
- Why not?
Charlotte'd kill
him, for one thing!
You'll get paid twice.
The harder you work to establish
for Cavendish's that
there is a provenance,
the more secure I'll feel
that there isn't one.
If there isn't one.
- Oh, there isn't one!
- Wait a minute!
No-one who's got an antique to sell
wants to prove it hasn't got a history.
- I do!
- Why?
Cos it's nicked?
My dear girl, I don't steal.
When I was younger, I prided myself in
being one of the most disreputable men
on the cross-benches. And that's saying
something. I lied, I gambled, I drank,
- I philandered...
- But he doesn't steal!
I can vouch for that.
Mr Gimbert.
Senior.
Ah, Senor Gimbert.
Busco los...
No, no, no, no, no, no -
senior as in citizen.
I'm his father.
- You will show me your chimneypiece.
- Do what?
Two Charles Keene sketches
were bought in the same lot
with an Edwardian chimneypiece.
How do you know about them?
Your son has sold the sketches?
I am a fast woman.
You'll tell me who has them.
Hold on! Hold on!
- Nice to see you again, Lovejoy.
- Lady Dunwich.
Oh! And that jacket!
You just have to be Tinky.
You know, I have dreamed of this moment.
I am an habituee of auctions all
over East Anglia, all over England!
And I have been hearing uncanny
things about you. Oh, such mystique!
- Are they true, Tinky?
- Tinker, actually.
And they say that he only has to look at
an antique to put an exact price on it.
If he could do that,
he'd be a millionaire.
Well, of course, but who needs it when
you've got a... gift? What's the word?
I remember! Divvy.
That's what they call you!
Isn't that just yuck?
I mean, the French are so
much more elegant. Un devin!
Sounds like a sofa!
Oh, you must tell me all
of your secrets, Tinky.
Now, you would think that the Earl
of Dunwich would be interested
in Dunwich antiques, wouldn't you?
I mean, take these
Charles Keene drawings.
He'd love to!
And Beth!
Have we got a deal, Lovejoy?
Yeah, I don't see why not.
I don't think Charlotte would object.
Ethics?
No, she's not an ethics girl.
Yes, there's been a lot of
interest in these pictures.
You're lucky you got to me first.
- You hold them here?
- For safekeeping, yeah.
Of course, the best form of security
is a contrived appearance of neglect.
Then you must be a very safe man.
Here's your moniker. Charles Keene.
Do they have a provenance?
Oh, yes. They've been in the family
for... ooh, I don't know how long.
- ?500.
- 500?!
That's all I can afford.
If it's not enough, I won't
waste any more of your time.
No, just a minute. What I mean is ?500
is a lot less than I ought to ask.
Maybe we can come to
some sort of compromise.
What about... ?1,000 the pair?
I need only one.
Lord Dunwich is innocent
until proven guilty.
The priest may very well be sincere,
but obviously he hasn't got any proof,
otherwise he'd have gone to the police.
There you are!
If the whole Greek Orthodox Church
can't prove where the thing comes from
- after 300 years of trying...
- Bill, bill, taxman...
what chance do you have?
A very good chance of
getting paid twice.
- And a postcard from Charlie Gimbert!
- Hello...
He's flopping about on a
beach in the Cayman Islands!
- Go on, read it.
- "Dear Lovejoy,
"I've had to take a short
holiday for health reasons.
"Terrible back trouble.
Keep an eye on the shop. Cash only.
"All proceeds to be remitted to Mr
Tinker Dill, care of the Cayman Bank..."
The scoundrel!
He's using me as an alias!
"PS, if my father turns up,
don't play poker with him."
Tinky, I wouldn't have
missed this for the world.
You're like an antique detective,
I mean antiques detective.
It's Tinker, actually.
Clear off!
Mr Gimbert, your son has sent me
explicit instructions to take
his property off your hands.
Well, I can do that myself.
I sold one of those pictures
yesterday for ?500.
Well, that is a pity, because Lady
Dunwich here wanted the pair.
Oh! Lady Dunwich.
Lovejoy did agree to provenance
the artophorion, didn't he?
Of course.
Told him to name his own price.
- So what's the problem?
- He's working for Lord Dunwich.
And you think that's unethical?
Completely! It's exactly
what I'd expect him to do.
Then you can't really be
disappointed with him.
I'm not disappointed with him.
I don't care if he works for somebody else.
If he wants to get paid twice over
for the same job, that's fine by me.
- So you're not bothered?
- No.
He could tell Tinker,
he could tell Beth.
He did tell Beth and she told me.
The only reason he won't tell me
is cos he thinks I'll be annoyed.
- You are annoyed.
- I'm not!
You are!
I'm only annoyed because
I'm not annoyed.
I've been told I've
been a Romanian gypsy,
a butcher's boy
and an Indian princess.
But what I was first, Tinky,
you will never guess.
Somebody with a very
good memory for names?
Oh!
Lady Dunwich! I was what I am today
in a past life. Isn't that unbelievable?
Unbelievable.
They say what goes around comes around,
and you're always reincarnated
with the same thing.
So when I was the
17th-century Lady Dunwich,
you and Lovejoy and Beth,
you must have all been there.
Americans...
Hmm... I bet you were one of those
guys who went from town to town
- fixing things. Know what I mean?
- A tinker?
Oh, no! I wouldn't have
had you killed for that.
I'm sure my boy Charlie knows your
husband from the Caligula Club.
That's a small gentlemen's retreat in
London. You know the sort of place -
kippers, custard and cocoa.
And a 24-hour casino,
according to Jamie.
All Saints Church.
Charles Keene must have been one
of the last people to see it.
Oh, and he's captured it perfectly!
It's exactly what it looks like!
- I thought it was under the sea.
- It is.
- How do you know what it looks like?
- I'm not just the lady of the manor!
I have a whole other life.
Lady Dunwich is interested in history.
Very interested.
And it's absolutely gorgeous!
Oh, what a shame the other one's been sold.
- I wanna buy the pair.
- Ah...
Wally!
- I can call you Wally, can't I?
- Well, actually...
- Because I'm very rich.
- I don't want you making the mistake
of thinking that Wally
Gimbert can be bought...
cheap.
I've been rich, Wally, ever
since I've been a little girl
and I find it keeps me young.
So I'm going to hold my breath
till I get what I want.
So Lovejoy still hasn't
mentioned anything?
No. I'm not annoyed. I'm not offended.
And I'm not disappointed.
It doesn't concern me.
I'm sure Lovejoy will do
his best for both of you.
The subject is closed.
If Lovejoy thinks I'm some sort
of a Miss Goody Two-Shoes
who's going to get the vapours at the
slightest hint of sharp practice,
that's his business.
Why don't you just ask him if
it's upsetting you so much?
It is not upsetting me!
Mm. Top-up?
Oh, no, no, no, no - I'm fine.
So tell me more about
this Archbishop Pangalos.
He performed miracles.
If you want to stop this
auction, you'll need one.
Ah, we were under Ottoman rule.
It was the Dark Age of Greece.
- You need more proof than that.
- Proof - how dare you ask for proof
when you have his picture on it
and the word of a man of God?!
And what's more, we have photographs.
The other picture's already sold.
It can't be unsold.
Come on, Your Ladyship.
There's negotiation and negotiation!
I will not bow to blackmail!
- How long is it now?
- Three minutes.
No-one can hold their
breath for three minutes!
It's nearly four.
Reason with her.
Would you respond to reason?
Do you think this is going to work?
What if it doesn't?
All right, all right!
Perhaps "sold" is putting it a bit strong.
It's on approval to some Albanian lady.
They're both still on the market?
Fabulous!
You can arrange a price with Tinky.
I shall be at the London Embassy Hotel.
See you in a couple of days.
A chalice and a paten.
They are kept at a museum in Athens.
They date from the late 17th century.
And they all bear Archbishop
Pangalos's image.
And they're part of a set.
Archbishop Pangalos's
personal communion set.
And all that is missing from that set
is an artophorion, an artophorion
exactly like this artophorion.
Charlotte!
There's a communion set in Athens
that matches your artophorion perfectly.
Why didn't you tell her?
Why didn't you tell me?
I didn't know.
Really?
It's in all our interests to
find out as much as we can.
If that's true, why don't you just say
where the artophorion comes from?
- Oh, no. That's out of the question.
- Only a guilty man remains silent.
Tell me a bit more about this Pangalos
chappie. He's obviously the key.
You stole the artophorion.
Look at the photographs!
It's obviously part of the same set.
They are very similar, I must admit,
but that artophorion
couldn't be part of my set.
Why not?
Because...
it's part of this communion set.
I cannot believe it! Not just a Pangalos
artophorion but the complete set!
This is the greatest thing to happen
to my church since Greek independence.
- I must get it back.
- Back?!
We haven't the slightest proof Lord
Dunwich stole it in the first place!
So the auction can go ahead.
I should never have let
myself be sidetracked by you
and I certainly shouldn't have
steamed into Lord Dunwich.
I'll have to find some way to
apologise and you should do the same.
Me? Why?
Well, if you don't know, I don't know.
- I don't know!
- Fine. Then neither of us know, do we?
It was a stupid thing for me to say,
unless there's something
you've forgotten to tell me.
Is there?
- Oh, for God's sake!
- Charlotte!
Have I annoyed you in some way?
I want to make it absolutely plain to
you, Lovejoy, that you do not annoy me.
And that is what is so
completely infuriating!
Charlotte! Charlotte!
So the auctioneers are not even
going to wait for a provenance?
I will have to do it myself.
You don't have to.
But you are already working
for Miss Cavendish, yes?
As long as I find out the
truth about the artophorion,
I don't care who pays.
So you must know about the Uzkoks.
- The who?
- The Uzkoks.
I knew this wasn't my day.
Ever since you told Lady
Dunwich not to buy my sketch.
For ?1,000?! She may be a
lunatic, but she's not daft.
- Oh?
- She's not a soft touch.
You've seen the way she negotiates.
Well, if I can get hold of the other
one, I can offer her the pair.
We'll have to find your Albanian woman.
I can't get hold of her.
The phone number she gave me is a dud.
What is it?
An exchange from the Cayman Islands?
Oh, you know about Charlie, then?
Like father, like son.
How do you mean?
We got a surprise card.
The Uzkoks were a tribe of pirates
until Archbishop Pangalos
converted them to Christianity.
He performed a water miracle.
He stopped the sea at the
very steps of their city.
Like a Greek Canute?
No! Canute was a failure!
Pangalos never failed.
He was a saint.
Or at least he would have been if the
Greek Church had not excommunicated him.
- What about the Uzkoks?
- The Uzkoks?
My church sacrificed everything
to them and what thanks did we get?
After 300 years of shielding
them from the heathen Turks,
what do you think they did when
the Ottoman Empire collapsed?
They converted to Islam!
Well, some people just gotta be difficult.
Are you sure Dunwich stole that set?
Of course I am sure.
It is as true as the miracles
of Archbishop Pangalos,
and one day, I mean to prove it.
Or at least, you will.
Cash.
My archbishop could have done with
a man like you against the Uzkoks.
Here's to Archbishop Pangalos!
And miracles.
So what you're saying is
that Charlie did a runner,
not because of the million quid he
owed the banks for Felsham Hall,
but because of metal detectors?!
Well, it seemed like a
good business opportunity.
Do you mean the anorak brigade
that come out of a Sunday
and dig up Roman Britain?
They sell it on to Charlie.
For a fraction of the market value.
And he passes it on to several
business acquaintances.
Sounds dangerous.
Of course, they overlooked
the law of treasure trove.
A few months later, these acquaintances
get a visit from the Home Office.
Every antique they own is
seized for the nation.
That's what happens if you
don't do your homework.
Course, Charlie don't
have a leg to stand on
or he won't have if
his mates catch him.
There's always the abandonment clause.
Oh, yeah? If you can prove the stuff was
deliberately thrown away, it's yours?
Discarded.
Discarded, yeah. The Home Office must be
laughing up their sleeve at that one.
Dealer takes three.
Couldn't Charlie pay his friends back?
Oh, he tried. Sent me to see
them with a down payment.
- Course, I invested it unwisely.
- What in?
17 black and then 29 red.
Well, they own this club, and
I can't resist a flutter.
So in a sense, I did pay them back.
Only not being sportsmen,
they didn't see it like that.
Aren't you frightened
they'll come after you?
Oh, no. No, no, no.
I'll co-operate with them unconditionally.
I even gave them the name of
some of Charlie's aliases.
What aliases?
Tinker Dill, for one.
I gave him the opportunity to confess,
and he practically lied in my face.
Lovejoy wouldn't
deliberately deceive you.
So he's accidentally lying, is he?
It's probably an oversight.
He's got other things on his mind
and he probably wasn't
thinking about you at all.
Good. The feeling's mutual.
No, no, I mean he just
didn't bother to tell you
because it's not that important,
because he knows it wouldn't annoy you.
It didn't! But it does now!
When I see him again, I'm going to...
Punter outside with a
picture to show you.
- Fancy a coffee, Bill?
- Thanks.
Do you like Charles Keene?
Sorry.
I now have proof that
Lord Dunwich stole the artophorion.
There's a matching set in Athens.
I know.
Lord Dunwich's only claim
is that he can pay for a
provenance and we can't.
The one thing
Lord Dunwich can't afford
is a successful provenance.
But you can.
How? We're a poor church.
Employ a poor man.
I'm afraid Jamie isn't in right now,
but I'll happily pass on your apology.
Although it's hardly necessary.
He's as concerned as you are to have the
provenance thoroughly investigated.
There's no reason to delay
the sale on that account.
Cavendish's would be delighted to
auction the complete communion set.
Lord Dunwich can assume we're entirely
at his disposal, and yours too.
- Mine?
- A peace offering.
These photographs don't prove anything.
But the artophorion completes the set.
So do a chalice, a salver and a paten.
Lord Dunwich has his own set.
Father Niarchos made the same mistake.
Who?
Father Niarchos - belongs to the
church of Archbishop Pangalos
in Santa Maura.
He thinks he owns it, too.
- Santa Maura...
- Mm.
Was flooded in 1687.
The church was utterly destroyed.
No-one has worshipped at the shrine
of Santa Maura for over 300 years.
And Father Niarchos?
Father Niarchos?
I know every Orthodox priest in England.
There's no Father Niarchos.
Tinky! Tell Wally I'll pay whatever
he wants for the view of All Saints.
He's holding you to ransom!
His picture doesn't even complete the set.
There's still the sketch
of Greyfriars Priory.
This sketch?
This lady's an answer to
a collector's prayer.
A Miss Scandinavia.
Iskander. Lara Iskander.
It's the real thing. Genuine.
Surely this gentleman
is not Mr Lovejoy.
I won't have anyone but him
authenticate my picture.
But Tinky says it's
the genuine article.
Is he a divvy?
I'm dealing with the Charles Keene
drawings on Lovejoy's behalf.
That's right!
He's a divvy manque.
I don't want the manque.
I want the organ-grinder.
How many people
are you working for, Lovejoy?
I suppose you would have continued
taking my church's money
whilst betraying it to its plunderers.
That would be difficult, considering
your church doesn't have any money.
But we have right on our side and
generations of history in the set.
I'm more interested in
your history, Niarchos.
From what I can work out, you have
been dead for almost 300 years!
All right, so I'm not a priest -
just a Greek!
But those antiques belong to Greece
just as much as the Elgin Marbles do.
And you have a nerve calling
me a liar, Lovejoy!
The English have exploited
Greece worse than anyone else...
- except perhaps the Uzkoks.
- Oh, not them again!
I'm leaving now, Lovejoy.
And if you try to follow me, you
will get what my people got -
the Uzkok turban!
The Uzkok turban?!
- Morning, Bill.
- I wouldn't be in your shoes.
- Is it all right to go in?
- It's your funeral.
Hello? Everything all right?
Of course it's all right.
Why shouldn't it be all right?
There's a bit of an
atmosphere out there.
Did something or somebody offend you?
No, I'm not offended.
- You sure?
- Certain.
- Mm-hm.
- Strange as it may seem,
- I'm very hard to offend.
- That's what I thought,
- but I'm just here to collect my fee.
- What?!
Oh! Dear me!
To collect my fee for the provenance.
You haven't established
a provenance yet.
Yes, I have. The communion set was
made in Santa Maura around 1680
for Archbishop Pangalos.
Then it was lost about seven years later,
probably during the flood
that destroyed the town.
Then Lord Dunwich unearthed it in Greece
and then smuggled it back to England.
In other words, he nicked it.
That's Niarchos's story and
you've unmasked him as a fraud.
Yes, I have, but it squares exactly
with what the Orthodox Church told me.
You'd better put these on, sir.
Expecting a cold spell, Bill?
Punter.
I thought you were prepared to give
Dunwich the benefit of the doubt.
Yeah, I am, but...
Somehow he must have known that
Niarchos's story wouldn't stand up.
He stole it all right - we
just don't know where from.
- I can't auction stolen goods!
- Legally, why not?
All the original owners are dead.
What about my reputation?
Cavendish auctioneers -
plunderers to the nobility!
- You'll be in good company.
- No, thank you!
You'll have to persuade the
Bishop to drop his claim.
If you're right, there's no-one
on the face of the earth
who seems to have the slightest
idea what's happened to that set
between 1687 and today.
Yes, there is.
I know just what happened.
Who are you?
I am the last of the Uzkoks.
Captains would drive their
ships onto the rocks
rather than fall into the
hands of my ancestors.
They liked to rip out the
still-beating hearts
of their Venetian captives
and eat them in a banquet.
Mmm!
Or nail the turbans of Turkish
prisoners to their heads.
The Uzkok turban.
They were equally fond of flaying,
disembowelment and impalement.
We're not disputing their cruelty, Lara,
merely their title to the communion set.
The most they can claim
is that they stole it.
The Uzkoks may have raped and pillaged
anything that moved in the Adriatic,
but they were devout Christians.
Archbishop Pangalos saw to that.
Didn't he object to their piracy?
Object to it?! He organised it!
But he only sold Turkish booty.
Christian gold and silver was melted
down and made into communion sets.
Oh, I'll bet that made the
victims feel a whole lot better!
Pangalos was a pirate priest
of a renegade church.
No wonder he was excommunicated.
A saint, a man who could
perform water miracles.
But what do I care what
the Greeks thought?
And as the last of the Uzkoks,
I claim his communion set.
You'll need a provenance.
Very well.
I will hire you to establish it.
Would you excuse us, Lara?
I've never heard of the Uzkoks.
You need to talk to Lovejoy.
He's handling the provenance for me now.
But at least you confirmed something.
If that communion set belongs to
Lord Dunwich, I'm a Dutchman.
No, I'm the Dutchman.
- I think I'll take her up on her offer.
- You will, will you?
Yeah.
Well, at least you've come clean.
And you're not annoyed?
I am not annoyed.
- Really?
- Really.
Good, because there's something
else I want to tell you.
I'm also working for Lord
Dunwich and the Bishop.
And you don't have a problem with that?
- Not if you don't.
- So why didn't you tell me?
I just did.
You're fired!
See, I knew you'd be annoyed!
?500 is my final offer.
Yeah, but you're not buying
it, Lady Dunwich is.
Under my advice.
How can you advise the Shirley
MacLaine of East Anglia?
She thinks she's been reincarnated.
- Who was she before?
- Lady Dunwich, 1687.
She can give you a guided
tour of the sunken village,
- show you where she drowned Tinker.
- She is a little eccentric.
She's a raving obsessive!
One picture short of a collection!
My picture.
I'm going to advise her to hold out.
You won't find another buyer.
Already have.
What's Greek for VAT?
I hope you're not thinking of offering
less than four figures for this.
Please, Mr Gimbert, do not insult me!
I want to buy it, not
take it out for lunch.
Shall we say...
?12,000?
There's no VAT for cash.
I never carry more than
1,000 in a convertible.
Well, I can't take a cheque.
I see that you are a
gambling man, Mr Gimbert.
Depends what I stand to win.
It's hard to check
much of Miss Iskander's story.
But she's right about
the water miracles.
It wasn't just their
victims that hated them.
It appeared the sea
loathed them as well.
Pangalos had to stand at their
dock and hold back the storm.
There are similar legends about
him all over the Aegean.
And he always used the same technique.
He'd cast a communion set
upon the angry waves.
And sometimes it worked!
The way he figured it was
God would hardly condemn a
saint to eternal damnation.
So he set forth a campaign for
his own self-canonisation.
Well, he had the water miracles.
He also had enough Turkish booty
to bribe a college of cardinals.
But the Greek Orthodox Church
wanted nothing to do with him.
- Because he was an Uzkok?
- Because he was an Uzkok.
So he decided to try his luck in Rome.
I bet il Papa was even less
sympathetic than the Greeks.
Well, it looks like it, because
after that he disappeared.
- There was a church right there, Beth.
- Mm-hm?
In 1687, it was submerged.
Lady Dunwich hired a
priest from Holland
who commanded the sea to
retreat, like Canute.
You sound like you've
been there before.
I was. That's why I have a
collection of all these originals.
Walter Gimbert says he's
found another buyer.
So give him what he asks.
Look, if I want something, I've
gotta have it, at any cost.
I suppose your husband felt the
same about the communion set?
You still think that he stole it?
- Everybody does.
- Even Lovejoy?
Especially Lovejoy.
I knew he was the man for the job!
He wants to talk to you
about the artophorion.
Well, he's welcome to view it,
but I can't accept any
offers before the auction.
You have the whole set?
No, but I do have access to it.
Good. I wish to claim the lot.
Your archbishop wandered about
the eastern Mediterranean
chucking away silver.
The Dunwich communion set could
have come from anywhere -
Montenegro, Macedonia,
Corfu, Cyprus, Albania...
So you see, we're back where we started.
The communion set does
not have a provenance.
Lovejoy Antiques...
You take my money and you don't
even do your own research!
I always work with Tinky.
Charlotte!
I thought I was fired... Miss Cavendish.
You were, but something's come up.
- So who's he?
- The Dutch Land Reclamation Society.
Archbishop Pangalos only escaped
from Rome with his life
by fleeing to my country.
The Dutch welcomed him with open arms.
We'd spent hundreds of years
trying to turn back the sea
and were prepared to accept
help from any quarter.
Pangalos duly obliged
and threw a communion set into
the North Sea at Stellendam.
Another water miracle!
Just so. That's why the communion
set has to belong to my society.
My... very well-funded society.
You'll need a provenance.
Very well. You're my man.
Would you excuse us a moment?
How much do you want for it, Nicky?
Nothing...
except a scrap of paper.
Your husband holds a gambling
marker of mine for a tiny sum.
Consider it settled.
Just as soon as I've run a few checks.
As far as I'm concerned, Lovejoy,
our relationship is at an end.
You're an auctioneer, I'm a dealer.
We can't avoid each other.
You know perfectly well what I mean!
You hired me to do a job,
I'm trying to do it.
Yes, for me!
Not for a peer of the realm, a fake
priest, a lady pirate and a Dutchman!
Unless you're sleeping
with any of them, too!
Oh, come on, Charlotte! I didn't think
you'd fly off the handle over this.
- What?!
- You're overreacting.
- What?!
- You're overreacting!
You're getting paid six times
over for the same job!
You should be pleased, not
behave like a punter.
That's all I am to you, another punter.
If that's what you want out
of this relationship, fine!
Oh, Charlotte.
But everything else... is off!
A-hem.
- A question, Mr Bergkamp.
- Yes?
Pangalos. What happened to him?
- He came to Britain.
- When?
In 1688, with William and Mary.
You see, the Dutch Reformed
Church doesn't recognise saints
and the Church of England
needed a miracle.
A historic English church
was sliding into the sea.
- What church was that?
- I don't know.
I think I do.
The communion set wasn't
found in Greece or Holland
or anywhere in the Mediterranean.
- It was found here.
- Here?
Pangalos came to Dunwich
to save All Saints.
- He did?
- He didn't.
There's a sunken church out there?
And a medieval village
and a Roman fort.
This is where Dunwich
found his communion set.
- He pulled it out of the water!
- So why didn't he say so?
Because of the laws of treasure-trove.
If it was buried in the village,
it belonged to the Crown.
But if he kept quiet, the
communion set was his by default.
Dunwich couldn't care less who
thought he'd stolen it from Greece,
as long as they couldn't prove it!
And they never could because he hadn't.
But can you prove it?
I can prove he's a diver.
Lord Dunwich!
Ah, Lovejoy!
I've just been out to check my
drawing with the real thing.
Isn't that right, Jamie?
Yeah, I thought I'd
take a short holiday.
Do us a favour, Tinker.
Look after the shop for us, there's a pal.
And if there's any income,
just send it on to my bank.
"All proceeds to be
remitted to Mr Lovejoy,
"care of the Cayman National Bank"?
You've got a nerve!
And if a Greek fellow turns up called
Niarchos, don't play poker with him.
Did you lose your shirt?
- It's the old back trouble again.
- Runs in the family.
We all run in my family!
I would have bet my life the communion
set couldn't be provenanced.
Especially after you two
invented Father Niarchos.
So why was Niarchos working for you?
Oh, he owed me.
- You hired him to accuse you of theft?
- The more claims, the merrier.
But now my debt is settled, you
can do your own dirty work.
Lord Dunwich?
You've cost me an awful lot of money!
- You haven't heard my provenance yet.
- We already know it.
Pangalos came to Dunwich in 1689
to perform a water miracle to save
the church. He drowned in the attempt
and was buried somewhere in
the All Saints graveyard.
That's where I found the set.
And Pangalos always performed
the water miracle the same way.
- Didn't he, Miss Iskander?
- But of course.
He cast a communion set into the waves.
Fascinating! Pity it didn't work.
Cast? You mean he threw it?
- Barbarian!
- Is that a turban?
Jamie! He threw it!
Frankly, darling, it doesn't matter
if he served moussaka from it.
- It's treasure-trove.
- No, it isn't! He didn't bury it!
He threw it away.
Discarded it.
And anything that's knowingly discarded
belongs to whoever finds it.
Legally, that's what
makes the difference.
Are you saying we're the
rightful owners after all?
You always have been.
So I can auction the whole communion
set with a full provenance!
It's the commission of a lifetime!
I'm afraid not, Miss Cavendish.
You see, if we're the legal owners
then I'll sell it in New York.
It'll fetch a far higher price
than some backwater saleroom
in Suffolk. Come on, darling.
Thank you, Lovejoy.
But it's all based on my provenance!
- I paid for it.
- I, too.
- And me!
- And me!
And me!
Fortunately, so did we!
I know who's going to pay for it!