The Bastard Executioner (2015): Season 1, Episode 1 - Pilot: Part 1 - full transcript
Wilkin Brattle, a warrior knight for King Edward I, becomes a farmer, but can't shake his past in the premiere of this drama set in the Middle Ages.
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I am devoted.
Your servant.
You have a destiny to claim.
Tell me...
heavenly one.
Tell me what you will
have me do.
It is time to lay down
the sword, Wilkin Brattle.
Your savior needs you
to live the life
of a different man.
Yes.
I will.
I understand.
I will.
_
The dream?
You're my only dream.
Will you ever
tell me what you see?
I see only my lovely Petra.
Oh, please.
How can you desire such a cow?
Oh, but a beautiful cow it is.
Oh, he kicks fierce
as his father this morning.
How do you know it's a he?
Annora insists
your firstborn will be an heir.
Ah, we're taking divine council
from the Slavic witch now,
are we?
She's a healer, not a witch.
Her herbs help
my weakness and sleep.
And the silent hooded one...
does he offer
dirt scratch visions
of our son's fate?
Yea.
Insists he'll be as pious
and mule-headed as his father.
I'm not mule-headed.
- I just devote to the thing at hand.
- Good.
Get your breeches up
and devote to filling
the barrels.
We're near out of water.
Think that would be a task
for a strong cow.
Oh, no! Oh!
_
I'm sure they're wasted seeds.
Like the rest.
God will bestow us with a child
in his time, Erik.
Then let God waste his hours
chasing a barren hole
with swollen meat.
Come.
Morning, Baroness.
Morning.
Should I draw a bath, milady?
I need more than a bath,
sweet Isabel.
So much more.
♪ Born with a heart ♪
♪ That could ache
more than beat ♪
♪ The mind of a killer ♪
♪ The soul of the meek ♪
♪ Flock with no shepherd ♪
♪ Is a vulnerable game ♪
♪ I can live without a hearth ♪
♪ Without love ♪
♪ But I do need a name ♪
♪ Father, do you burn ♪
♪ If your hand is in fire? ♪
♪ Does your head
spin with rage ♪
♪ When fooled by the liars? ♪
♪ King of the kings ♪
♪ Do you feel any pain? ♪
♪ Do you feel any pain? ♪
WEB-DL resync by kinglouisxx
www.addic7ed.com
It is time.
Your pagan confidant
awaits you.
As does your
fur-covered squire.
I'm looking.
Calm yourself.
You're such an impatient ewe.
I'll sheer you raw,
throwing that in my face.
It was but one time.
Very dark.
She had familiar wool.
I am true.
And you're one to talk.
Yeah, I see you in the fields.
Your tartish play.
Catching a rub
on every buck and ram.
Mutton troubles, my friend?
Good day, Wilk, Petra.
She's a bit of crankypox.
I know.
Perhaps Miriam
needs a little rest.
That's all she does is sleep.
Sleep, eat and shit.
That's because it's a sheep.
Oh, wit.
Yeah.
And a beautiful one.
Yeah, I'm sorry, honeypot.
I know. My fault.
Love spreads like
a sweet healing balm.
Yea.
How many troops
with the tax collector?
Three knights of the
familia, five horsemen.
All skilled.
These hooded thieves
will meet a fierce surprise.
And if their hoods
hide the faces of rebels?
They would ride in numbers
with their wolf.
The Byth Encil
wouldn't just steal
a mere piece of your bounty,
my lord.
These attacks are an
assertion of condition.
It's righteous peasants setting
their own rule of tribute.
Then crush them, Milus.
They ignite the rabble.
If they steal from us again,
we'll have more aspiring outlaws
than servants to wipe my shit.
Take care, fool.
You're not scrubbing a floor.
Mes plus sincères excuses,
mon Leige.
Brother Wilk.
We've heard from our friends
in Glen Darby Birch.
Ventris comes again. Collectors.
- Already?
- More brutal than ever.
Doubled the tax,
doubled the guards.
They'll be at
our door by daybreak.
Our journey is longer
traveling off the main trails.
We need to ride now if we want
to catch them in darkness.
His troops will be ready for us.
The risk grows too great.
They'll take what little stock
and harvest we have left.
A winter of starvation
is the greater risk.
We can't do this without you.
Yea.
Gather supplies.
We'll need to ride
before midday.
- I want to fight, Wilk.
- No, Ash.
- You're of better use here.
- But I'm of proper age.
It's a proper mind
we're in need of.
I'm clever.
Please, I want to help.
If we need to make haste
off beaten paths,
no one knows the woods
- better than our clever trapper.
- Yeah. True.
I know every twig from
here to the sea caverns.
- Please.
- You can ride with us,
but you don't fight.
And the sheep stays here.
I get a hood though, right?
Yea. I'll make you one
out of sheepskin.
You can leave Miriam
in our pen;
she'll be safe there.
You're a cruel one,
Toran Prichard.
He's tupping mindless beasts,
and I'm the cruel one?
Come on.
Come on there, boys.
I know that look.
You should.
I wear it often.
Ventris is sly and brutal.
It's only time and chance
before you feel his blade.
You're not a rebel, Wilkin.
Let the band of Byth Encil
take their defiant
vengeance to our baron.
This isn't about vengeance.
You heard your father.
We take this risk
to survive.
The baron's tax leech
comes twice a season now.
We've barely stock
and food to live.
You're the only stock
I can't live without!
Good morning, farmer.
Fair dame.
And how is our gentle
lytling doing today?
Very active.
A life eager
to begin a greater journey.
Yea.
You must cover this wound.
The spill layer of the river
swims with sickness.
I'm fine.
And in three days' time,
you will be weak and fevered.
Boil these.
Soak the wound in the broth.
Yea.
Thank you.
The other man.
God has put him on our path.
Quarter rips for
the other two quaints.
_
It's double shillings for that.
Finish the task.
Fair rate will follow.
Did you soak the rag
in dumb paste?
I... I...
The pot wouldn't fit
in the bags, Father.
But I can...
Stupid and weak.
Stupid and weak.
God, I hate when she does that.
Milady?
Lady Love?
Shit.
Can you please
not do that, Love?
My heart drowns
with you every time.
I'm fine, dear Isabel.
I've been swimming in this
water since I was born.
The chill refreshes my spirit.
Reminds me of who I am.
The baroness
who caught her death?
The hopeful Welsh girl who
knows God holds her close.
He has a journey in mind.
Yes.
I know that girl.
Time is a most
aggressive foe, Milus.
Favor of my rule
changes with the wind.
The unrest that grows
on this damp rock...
I need to make my gains
now, while I still hold
the king's trust.
Wealth, my lord,
is the foundation
of any temple of power.
We need to fortify
our resources.
Steeper taxes and tariffs.
Yes, agreed.
Pardon, Lord Ventris,
good Chamberlain.
Baron Pryce's emissary
waits for you at the market.
He is... quite eager.
I assume Pryce sends no gifts
with his eager messenger?
Gifts, Baron?
Stuffed pheasant.
Aged wine.
A bevy of virgin whores.
Why would he send such?
Ballok cod.
Why does he want an audience?
Oh, yes.
Again, he makes a heated point
of the steep tariff.
Asserts that Baron Pryce
will refuse payment
if it grows again.
If Pryce wants access to
the sea, he will pay for it.
And if he refuses, then we
have cause to assert power.
Into Pryceshire?
But his legions outnumber ours.
Pryce is a man of books.
Thinkers die in battle.
Good Baron.
Chamberlain.
What is our passage
for today, Father?
Genesis.
We're learning how
God created us in his likeness.
Gave us a perfect world.
Care to join us, Baron?
Yes.
Another time, Father.
And what of our king?
Where will Edward sit
in this dispute with you
and Baron Pryce?
Where his soft French
bottom always sits...
in the middle,
waiting like a flowered
girl to coo the victor.
With a mouth
full of noble seed.
Ah, yes.
Because he's a bit fancy.
Tell Pryce's man
the tariff just went up again.
A third?
More than fair.
But, my lord, you...
you realize you taunt him
by raising it yet again?
The taunt is the message.
Deliver it.
Yes. Sorry.
Baron. Chamberlain.
Hello, sir.
Your young brother
doubts our methods.
Half my blood.
Quarter the brains.
Give it here.
You carried Da's ax last ride.
Yeah, because you don't have
the arm to swing it, puny-kin.
Says you, you fat elf.
Will you two ever grow up?
You should be whittling me toys,
not playing hero, old man.
Whittling is for the lame
of mind, motherly daughter.
Be certain that's not
how you return.
No need to wear
the funeral mask.
I'm not dead yet, wife.
The mask is for me.
You'll be the death of me,
you reckless poke.
You keep her heavy on the
mead while I'm away, boy.
She's bearable that way.
Am I a ghost without ears?
I will, Da.
Heaps of it.
We'll be back before half moon.
Yea.
I'll be here. Twice the cow.
You stay in there.
No catching your mother
with a sneakish birth.
Running the laws
of nature now, farmer?
Never, dear Eva.
I leave the control of
all things earthly to the women.
God keep you safe.
Always.
Hup.
Hup!
_
We meet again, tax man!
Oh, please. Oh, please.
Spare me still.
Tell your greedy lord,
if he keeps biting
like the boar,
we keep laying the traps.
Where's your horse, tax man?!
Here.
Yeah, it is true, friend.
I'll own skill of this one day.
I'll make my little wings
that vanish on the bark.
I will fly.
Woden has promised me.
Ah, my friends return.
Yah!
Bag the chattel and furs.
_
Destiny has met
your ambitious young warrior.
Wilkin Brattle will no longer
draw favor from the king.
The long blades
of the Scots served us well.
An inspired plan, good Marshal.
Send troops for the bodies.
If we bring him back, Constable,
Brattle will be seen
as a slain hero
who stood up
to an army of Scots.
They will immortalize him.
Perhaps we take comfort
knowing that we serve
God's hungry creatures.
Yes.
Feast on, my friends!
King-fed meat!
Forgive me.
_
Baron Pryce.
Pardon, my lord.
Your emissary has returned
from Ventrishire.
Finish with disbursement,
Chamberlain.
Of course.
Edwin.
It is much too damp
in this room.
Yes, my love.
Take the baroness
to the sun room.
Who's next?
Gawain Maddox!
The traveling punisher.
You claimed fairness.
This is half my wage.
Do you know how many journeymen
pass through this shire
every week?
Blacksmiths, bowmen, even
executioners such as yourself.
Many flee the South
in search of work.
That doesn't mean we don't
deserve our rightful pay.
If you do not find this
satisfactory, move on.
Find yourself another
shire where you can
peddle your brutal gifts.
Next.
Barclay the minstrel.
Ah, the minstrel.
We travel.
But where to, Maddy?
To the sea.
Ventrishire.
Now!
Forgive us, Baron.
My lady.
There's been another attack.
Hooded thieves.
All eight of our men slain.
Took us in darkness.
Deadly ghosts.
- The same ones?
- Yes.
Six, in familiar hoods.
There was another this time,
deeper in the woods.
Saw a flash of his face.
A young one.
How do you know he was a bandit?
He was hooded.
His clothing was different,
all hides and furs,
but he was with them.
A watcher perhaps.
What kind of fur did he wear?
It had sheen...
beaver pelt, I'd say.
Costly vesture
for a peasant bandit.
Beavers.
What rivers do they dam?
I'm not sure.
Colder ones, perhaps.
West to the sea.
West.
Gwynedd and the minor turns.
Here.
Branches of the Dunoding
run west.
Touch the far end of the shire.
We've settlers there?
No, I think...
Yes.
Yes, we do.
Barley farmers.
West River Riding.
Quarterly collections.
Oh, West River.
Yes, of course.
Half legion and
horsemen, my charge.
You ride with us.
Pick out the watcher.
Make sound guesses
of the others
without their clever hoods.
You as well, Reeve.
Get to know your shire.
Yes, dear brother.
Baron. My lady.
And what of manor law?
Is there a mind for fairness
in your swift purpose?
Of course, my love.
Fair process for every man.
I know your distress
is undoubtedly
about the safety
of your husband, my lady,
but an ignorant eye may see it
as concern
for the welfare of outlaws.
Well, I thank my maker
that I'm in the presence
of a man who never leans
towards ignorance.
Indeed.
Knowledge is my service.
Indeed.
Perhaps you should share some of
that knowledge with my husband.
Let him know that his thirst
to grow this shire
should not be quenched
with the sweat and blood
of its own people.
It is the people's duty
to tithe.
Only rebels
refuse to honor
the rule of law.
No commoner wants rebellion.
It only comes after hope and
reason are burned to the ground.
Tell me, Baroness.
How is it that someone
of your privilege
may come to know
the plight of the common man?
Well, unlike some
within these walls,
I live with open eyes
and open heart.
You will break them, Milus.
And we both know
there's nothing more dangerous
than a Welshman
who has nothing to lose.
Keep my husband to a safe path.
I'm depending on you,
good Chamberlain.
_
Melt it down, and you
shall have whatever you like.
Our brave hunters approach.
Midshire hares!
Big enough to mount.
We want to skewer them
with sticks,
not with our pricks,
you beast-lover.
Don't listen to him, boy.
We take our comfort
wherever we find it.
And what if you find him
taking comfort in your pen...
...poking your prize hog?
I don't fancy hogs.
That's true.
He's a one-sheep man.
Why does Wilk
use oak and not a blade?
There are many things
we do not know about our leader.
Even Petra knows
little of his life
before he came to the river.
Had to be a soldier.
The fight skill
he's given you...
that was learned on a field
of battle, not barley.
We've all tales
best kept locked in our head.
More of your song.
♪ Ye talisman give potion... ♪
You should eat.
Yea.
Ventris will keep
doubling his guards.
Yeah, we can't
do this alone anymore.
You saw the daffodil hides
in the trees.
The Byth Encil rebels
would welcome our skill.
I can arrange for a meet,
and we can...
I serve God and family,
not cause or crown.
Give straight, brother.
You think the gates of
heaven will fly open
because you down a man
with wood instead of steel?
Perhaps not.
We've both watched men die
by the work of our hands,
Wilkin.
In service of gods or king,
it doesn't matter.
We're driven by a deeper burn,
and we need to feel that
or we wither.
Where's your man?!
Where's your right?
No farmer here.
Only women
and useless elders.
Where are your men?!
They're hunting,
Lord Ventris.
Skins for the next harvest.
In the dark?
Do I seem a fool?
Slit the boy's throat.
No! No! No!
Stop! Stop!
Where are they?
A lie bleeds two throats.
They...
they went to Glen Darby Birch.
With their hoods?
Yea! With hoods!
How many?
Seven.
You expect your baron
to believe
that a pox-dowed band of farmers
have skill enough
to knell our noble ranks?
He should.
His ranks
seem only fit to strike
women and children!
Kill them all.
Burn it to the ground.
You devils!
You curs!
They will hunt you down
and cut out your stone hearts!
Make this one a sight
for deep memory.
Brutal.
Let it strike a pain
that cannot be hidden
with insolent hoods.
Run, Petra!
Fetch her!
This is a breach of law.
Both God and king.
It-it...
This is madness!
Please, my lord.
Please.
Relieve our collector
of his moral conflict.
I beg of you. Please!
Find the God you defend.
Have mercy, please.
Not for me,
but for the innocent heart
beating inside, please.
Please.
Please.
Run.
And don't ever come back here,
not anywhere in this shire.
You'll be sure as dead.
Go!
The farmers will see the smoke.
They won't ride
into a waiting attack.
I want them alive.
For now.
Let them suffer this.
You... you.
What are you...?
WEB-DL resync by kinglouisxx
www.addic7ed.com
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I am devoted.
Your servant.
You have a destiny to claim.
Tell me...
heavenly one.
Tell me what you will
have me do.
It is time to lay down
the sword, Wilkin Brattle.
Your savior needs you
to live the life
of a different man.
Yes.
I will.
I understand.
I will.
_
The dream?
You're my only dream.
Will you ever
tell me what you see?
I see only my lovely Petra.
Oh, please.
How can you desire such a cow?
Oh, but a beautiful cow it is.
Oh, he kicks fierce
as his father this morning.
How do you know it's a he?
Annora insists
your firstborn will be an heir.
Ah, we're taking divine council
from the Slavic witch now,
are we?
She's a healer, not a witch.
Her herbs help
my weakness and sleep.
And the silent hooded one...
does he offer
dirt scratch visions
of our son's fate?
Yea.
Insists he'll be as pious
and mule-headed as his father.
I'm not mule-headed.
- I just devote to the thing at hand.
- Good.
Get your breeches up
and devote to filling
the barrels.
We're near out of water.
Think that would be a task
for a strong cow.
Oh, no! Oh!
_
I'm sure they're wasted seeds.
Like the rest.
God will bestow us with a child
in his time, Erik.
Then let God waste his hours
chasing a barren hole
with swollen meat.
Come.
Morning, Baroness.
Morning.
Should I draw a bath, milady?
I need more than a bath,
sweet Isabel.
So much more.
♪ Born with a heart ♪
♪ That could ache
more than beat ♪
♪ The mind of a killer ♪
♪ The soul of the meek ♪
♪ Flock with no shepherd ♪
♪ Is a vulnerable game ♪
♪ I can live without a hearth ♪
♪ Without love ♪
♪ But I do need a name ♪
♪ Father, do you burn ♪
♪ If your hand is in fire? ♪
♪ Does your head
spin with rage ♪
♪ When fooled by the liars? ♪
♪ King of the kings ♪
♪ Do you feel any pain? ♪
♪ Do you feel any pain? ♪
WEB-DL resync by kinglouisxx
www.addic7ed.com
It is time.
Your pagan confidant
awaits you.
As does your
fur-covered squire.
I'm looking.
Calm yourself.
You're such an impatient ewe.
I'll sheer you raw,
throwing that in my face.
It was but one time.
Very dark.
She had familiar wool.
I am true.
And you're one to talk.
Yeah, I see you in the fields.
Your tartish play.
Catching a rub
on every buck and ram.
Mutton troubles, my friend?
Good day, Wilk, Petra.
She's a bit of crankypox.
I know.
Perhaps Miriam
needs a little rest.
That's all she does is sleep.
Sleep, eat and shit.
That's because it's a sheep.
Oh, wit.
Yeah.
And a beautiful one.
Yeah, I'm sorry, honeypot.
I know. My fault.
Love spreads like
a sweet healing balm.
Yea.
How many troops
with the tax collector?
Three knights of the
familia, five horsemen.
All skilled.
These hooded thieves
will meet a fierce surprise.
And if their hoods
hide the faces of rebels?
They would ride in numbers
with their wolf.
The Byth Encil
wouldn't just steal
a mere piece of your bounty,
my lord.
These attacks are an
assertion of condition.
It's righteous peasants setting
their own rule of tribute.
Then crush them, Milus.
They ignite the rabble.
If they steal from us again,
we'll have more aspiring outlaws
than servants to wipe my shit.
Take care, fool.
You're not scrubbing a floor.
Mes plus sincères excuses,
mon Leige.
Brother Wilk.
We've heard from our friends
in Glen Darby Birch.
Ventris comes again. Collectors.
- Already?
- More brutal than ever.
Doubled the tax,
doubled the guards.
They'll be at
our door by daybreak.
Our journey is longer
traveling off the main trails.
We need to ride now if we want
to catch them in darkness.
His troops will be ready for us.
The risk grows too great.
They'll take what little stock
and harvest we have left.
A winter of starvation
is the greater risk.
We can't do this without you.
Yea.
Gather supplies.
We'll need to ride
before midday.
- I want to fight, Wilk.
- No, Ash.
- You're of better use here.
- But I'm of proper age.
It's a proper mind
we're in need of.
I'm clever.
Please, I want to help.
If we need to make haste
off beaten paths,
no one knows the woods
- better than our clever trapper.
- Yeah. True.
I know every twig from
here to the sea caverns.
- Please.
- You can ride with us,
but you don't fight.
And the sheep stays here.
I get a hood though, right?
Yea. I'll make you one
out of sheepskin.
You can leave Miriam
in our pen;
she'll be safe there.
You're a cruel one,
Toran Prichard.
He's tupping mindless beasts,
and I'm the cruel one?
Come on.
Come on there, boys.
I know that look.
You should.
I wear it often.
Ventris is sly and brutal.
It's only time and chance
before you feel his blade.
You're not a rebel, Wilkin.
Let the band of Byth Encil
take their defiant
vengeance to our baron.
This isn't about vengeance.
You heard your father.
We take this risk
to survive.
The baron's tax leech
comes twice a season now.
We've barely stock
and food to live.
You're the only stock
I can't live without!
Good morning, farmer.
Fair dame.
And how is our gentle
lytling doing today?
Very active.
A life eager
to begin a greater journey.
Yea.
You must cover this wound.
The spill layer of the river
swims with sickness.
I'm fine.
And in three days' time,
you will be weak and fevered.
Boil these.
Soak the wound in the broth.
Yea.
Thank you.
The other man.
God has put him on our path.
Quarter rips for
the other two quaints.
_
It's double shillings for that.
Finish the task.
Fair rate will follow.
Did you soak the rag
in dumb paste?
I... I...
The pot wouldn't fit
in the bags, Father.
But I can...
Stupid and weak.
Stupid and weak.
God, I hate when she does that.
Milady?
Lady Love?
Shit.
Can you please
not do that, Love?
My heart drowns
with you every time.
I'm fine, dear Isabel.
I've been swimming in this
water since I was born.
The chill refreshes my spirit.
Reminds me of who I am.
The baroness
who caught her death?
The hopeful Welsh girl who
knows God holds her close.
He has a journey in mind.
Yes.
I know that girl.
Time is a most
aggressive foe, Milus.
Favor of my rule
changes with the wind.
The unrest that grows
on this damp rock...
I need to make my gains
now, while I still hold
the king's trust.
Wealth, my lord,
is the foundation
of any temple of power.
We need to fortify
our resources.
Steeper taxes and tariffs.
Yes, agreed.
Pardon, Lord Ventris,
good Chamberlain.
Baron Pryce's emissary
waits for you at the market.
He is... quite eager.
I assume Pryce sends no gifts
with his eager messenger?
Gifts, Baron?
Stuffed pheasant.
Aged wine.
A bevy of virgin whores.
Why would he send such?
Ballok cod.
Why does he want an audience?
Oh, yes.
Again, he makes a heated point
of the steep tariff.
Asserts that Baron Pryce
will refuse payment
if it grows again.
If Pryce wants access to
the sea, he will pay for it.
And if he refuses, then we
have cause to assert power.
Into Pryceshire?
But his legions outnumber ours.
Pryce is a man of books.
Thinkers die in battle.
Good Baron.
Chamberlain.
What is our passage
for today, Father?
Genesis.
We're learning how
God created us in his likeness.
Gave us a perfect world.
Care to join us, Baron?
Yes.
Another time, Father.
And what of our king?
Where will Edward sit
in this dispute with you
and Baron Pryce?
Where his soft French
bottom always sits...
in the middle,
waiting like a flowered
girl to coo the victor.
With a mouth
full of noble seed.
Ah, yes.
Because he's a bit fancy.
Tell Pryce's man
the tariff just went up again.
A third?
More than fair.
But, my lord, you...
you realize you taunt him
by raising it yet again?
The taunt is the message.
Deliver it.
Yes. Sorry.
Baron. Chamberlain.
Hello, sir.
Your young brother
doubts our methods.
Half my blood.
Quarter the brains.
Give it here.
You carried Da's ax last ride.
Yeah, because you don't have
the arm to swing it, puny-kin.
Says you, you fat elf.
Will you two ever grow up?
You should be whittling me toys,
not playing hero, old man.
Whittling is for the lame
of mind, motherly daughter.
Be certain that's not
how you return.
No need to wear
the funeral mask.
I'm not dead yet, wife.
The mask is for me.
You'll be the death of me,
you reckless poke.
You keep her heavy on the
mead while I'm away, boy.
She's bearable that way.
Am I a ghost without ears?
I will, Da.
Heaps of it.
We'll be back before half moon.
Yea.
I'll be here. Twice the cow.
You stay in there.
No catching your mother
with a sneakish birth.
Running the laws
of nature now, farmer?
Never, dear Eva.
I leave the control of
all things earthly to the women.
God keep you safe.
Always.
Hup.
Hup!
_
We meet again, tax man!
Oh, please. Oh, please.
Spare me still.
Tell your greedy lord,
if he keeps biting
like the boar,
we keep laying the traps.
Where's your horse, tax man?!
Here.
Yeah, it is true, friend.
I'll own skill of this one day.
I'll make my little wings
that vanish on the bark.
I will fly.
Woden has promised me.
Ah, my friends return.
Yah!
Bag the chattel and furs.
_
Destiny has met
your ambitious young warrior.
Wilkin Brattle will no longer
draw favor from the king.
The long blades
of the Scots served us well.
An inspired plan, good Marshal.
Send troops for the bodies.
If we bring him back, Constable,
Brattle will be seen
as a slain hero
who stood up
to an army of Scots.
They will immortalize him.
Perhaps we take comfort
knowing that we serve
God's hungry creatures.
Yes.
Feast on, my friends!
King-fed meat!
Forgive me.
_
Baron Pryce.
Pardon, my lord.
Your emissary has returned
from Ventrishire.
Finish with disbursement,
Chamberlain.
Of course.
Edwin.
It is much too damp
in this room.
Yes, my love.
Take the baroness
to the sun room.
Who's next?
Gawain Maddox!
The traveling punisher.
You claimed fairness.
This is half my wage.
Do you know how many journeymen
pass through this shire
every week?
Blacksmiths, bowmen, even
executioners such as yourself.
Many flee the South
in search of work.
That doesn't mean we don't
deserve our rightful pay.
If you do not find this
satisfactory, move on.
Find yourself another
shire where you can
peddle your brutal gifts.
Next.
Barclay the minstrel.
Ah, the minstrel.
We travel.
But where to, Maddy?
To the sea.
Ventrishire.
Now!
Forgive us, Baron.
My lady.
There's been another attack.
Hooded thieves.
All eight of our men slain.
Took us in darkness.
Deadly ghosts.
- The same ones?
- Yes.
Six, in familiar hoods.
There was another this time,
deeper in the woods.
Saw a flash of his face.
A young one.
How do you know he was a bandit?
He was hooded.
His clothing was different,
all hides and furs,
but he was with them.
A watcher perhaps.
What kind of fur did he wear?
It had sheen...
beaver pelt, I'd say.
Costly vesture
for a peasant bandit.
Beavers.
What rivers do they dam?
I'm not sure.
Colder ones, perhaps.
West to the sea.
West.
Gwynedd and the minor turns.
Here.
Branches of the Dunoding
run west.
Touch the far end of the shire.
We've settlers there?
No, I think...
Yes.
Yes, we do.
Barley farmers.
West River Riding.
Quarterly collections.
Oh, West River.
Yes, of course.
Half legion and
horsemen, my charge.
You ride with us.
Pick out the watcher.
Make sound guesses
of the others
without their clever hoods.
You as well, Reeve.
Get to know your shire.
Yes, dear brother.
Baron. My lady.
And what of manor law?
Is there a mind for fairness
in your swift purpose?
Of course, my love.
Fair process for every man.
I know your distress
is undoubtedly
about the safety
of your husband, my lady,
but an ignorant eye may see it
as concern
for the welfare of outlaws.
Well, I thank my maker
that I'm in the presence
of a man who never leans
towards ignorance.
Indeed.
Knowledge is my service.
Indeed.
Perhaps you should share some of
that knowledge with my husband.
Let him know that his thirst
to grow this shire
should not be quenched
with the sweat and blood
of its own people.
It is the people's duty
to tithe.
Only rebels
refuse to honor
the rule of law.
No commoner wants rebellion.
It only comes after hope and
reason are burned to the ground.
Tell me, Baroness.
How is it that someone
of your privilege
may come to know
the plight of the common man?
Well, unlike some
within these walls,
I live with open eyes
and open heart.
You will break them, Milus.
And we both know
there's nothing more dangerous
than a Welshman
who has nothing to lose.
Keep my husband to a safe path.
I'm depending on you,
good Chamberlain.
_
Melt it down, and you
shall have whatever you like.
Our brave hunters approach.
Midshire hares!
Big enough to mount.
We want to skewer them
with sticks,
not with our pricks,
you beast-lover.
Don't listen to him, boy.
We take our comfort
wherever we find it.
And what if you find him
taking comfort in your pen...
...poking your prize hog?
I don't fancy hogs.
That's true.
He's a one-sheep man.
Why does Wilk
use oak and not a blade?
There are many things
we do not know about our leader.
Even Petra knows
little of his life
before he came to the river.
Had to be a soldier.
The fight skill
he's given you...
that was learned on a field
of battle, not barley.
We've all tales
best kept locked in our head.
More of your song.
♪ Ye talisman give potion... ♪
You should eat.
Yea.
Ventris will keep
doubling his guards.
Yeah, we can't
do this alone anymore.
You saw the daffodil hides
in the trees.
The Byth Encil rebels
would welcome our skill.
I can arrange for a meet,
and we can...
I serve God and family,
not cause or crown.
Give straight, brother.
You think the gates of
heaven will fly open
because you down a man
with wood instead of steel?
Perhaps not.
We've both watched men die
by the work of our hands,
Wilkin.
In service of gods or king,
it doesn't matter.
We're driven by a deeper burn,
and we need to feel that
or we wither.
Where's your man?!
Where's your right?
No farmer here.
Only women
and useless elders.
Where are your men?!
They're hunting,
Lord Ventris.
Skins for the next harvest.
In the dark?
Do I seem a fool?
Slit the boy's throat.
No! No! No!
Stop! Stop!
Where are they?
A lie bleeds two throats.
They...
they went to Glen Darby Birch.
With their hoods?
Yea! With hoods!
How many?
Seven.
You expect your baron
to believe
that a pox-dowed band of farmers
have skill enough
to knell our noble ranks?
He should.
His ranks
seem only fit to strike
women and children!
Kill them all.
Burn it to the ground.
You devils!
You curs!
They will hunt you down
and cut out your stone hearts!
Make this one a sight
for deep memory.
Brutal.
Let it strike a pain
that cannot be hidden
with insolent hoods.
Run, Petra!
Fetch her!
This is a breach of law.
Both God and king.
It-it...
This is madness!
Please, my lord.
Please.
Relieve our collector
of his moral conflict.
I beg of you. Please!
Find the God you defend.
Have mercy, please.
Not for me,
but for the innocent heart
beating inside, please.
Please.
Please.
Run.
And don't ever come back here,
not anywhere in this shire.
You'll be sure as dead.
Go!
The farmers will see the smoke.
They won't ride
into a waiting attack.
I want them alive.
For now.
Let them suffer this.
You... you.
What are you...?
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