1685.
Storm clouds gather over Europe.
In England, the good King Charles is dead,
and his brother, James II, sits on a very shaky throne.
The country is torn asunder by dissenting factions.
One, loyal to the last of the Stuart Kings.
The other, faithful to Prince William of Orange across the channel.
While the Duke of Monmouth plans to raise an army,
invade England, and usurp the throne from King James,
The Lord High Chief Justice Jeffries
dispenses his peculiarly inflexible form of justice
to vast numbers of suspects, both real and imaginary.
This is a time of plot and counterplot,
a time of witchcraft,
when the shadow of the executioner blots out
the innocent and guilty alike.
We shall destroy the Bloody Judge, my dear, and then we shall, all of us, rejoice.
Alicia...
- Alicia, my darling! - Oh, Capple, I'm deliriously happy.
- Let's go somewhere and be alone. - How can I refuse a request like that
from such a pretty lady?
Oh, yes, darling.
Quickly, men, we've got to find Capple!
Capple, I arrest you in the name of King James.
Damn King James!
No!
Capple!
No!
That should tame your spirit, you evil wench.
In the presence of the Lord Chief Justice Lord Jeffries,
in the city of London, court of Earl Bailey,
this court is now in session. God save the King.
Let the business of the court commence.
Quiet!
Quiet, bitches!
Shut up! I said quiet!
Ketch is coming.
Look at that walk he has.
- Now, here's a pretty wench. - Aye, and you'll hang that pretty head, yet.
What's she at Newgate for? Cutting a purse?
Or cutting a caper in me Lord's bed and being caught for it?
- A witch! - She's not a witch.
- Sorceress. - Black magic.
May it please Your Lordship, on indictment from the assize at Exeter
before the King's bench, Alicia Gray,
spinster, of the parish of Rainsford, in the county of Wessex.
The charge, witchcraft.
Silence.
Silence!
Proceed, Sergeant Allan.
If Your Lordship pleases, the Crown will show that this female, Alicia Gray,
did, in fact, indulge in practices alien to our faith
and in contempt of the existing laws of our kingdom.
We shall also prove that she did, on the first day of May
frequent a place where pagan rites were carried out.
That she was caught in flagrante with one certain Capple,
a long-suspected practitioner of the black arts.
The Crown has more than sufficient proof of witchcraft against this Capple,
to have him hung, drawn and quartered
as prescribed by law. But unfortunately...
Unfortunately what, Mr. Prosecutor?
The villain evaded capture, my Lord. He died.
If Capple is dead, what is his relevance to this case?
The accused female is guilty by association, my Lord.
You have witnesses to prove that association?
Oh, yes, my Lord, they were lovers.
Has the accused been examined thoroughly
by physicians and members of the clergy?
- She has been examined. - Thoroughly?
Well, has she?
As thoroughly as we are allowed, my Lord,
under the law.
Under the law?
We are under the law here, Sergeant Allan.
Of course, I need not remind you of that fact.
The accused, Alicia Gray
will be examined thoroughly
for abnormality of mind and body.
A report to be made to this court.
Executioner…
Silence.
Take her.
Alicia!
Go on...
Tighten it!
That's enough.
Rest while you can, my dear, we have other delights in store for you.
"W" for "witch".
Can you spell?
You can cast spells...
but that's different.
Witches don't like iron.
Cold iron...
…or hot.
Witches hate it.
A witch can make a dead man bleed.
Now, here's a dead man.
Now then...
Can you make him bleed?
Look, he bleeds.
But that's my blood! You took it from me!
I say he bleeds!
Cheats! Liars!
We mustn't keep Judge Jeffries waiting, must we, my dear?
You observed the witch, Palafox?
They're getting quite rare these days. Is she guilty, me Lord?
You shock me, Palafox, the girl has not been tried yet.
Her father was a traitor.
He was one of the minor villains in the Rye House conspiracy.
He plotted against the King's life, and was duly hanged for it.
I had the pleasure of sentencing him.
And now his daughter comes up for judgement, ‘ey, sir?
His daughter, yes.
She was found while you were away in Winchester.
Interesting, don't you think?
- I must see him! - You can't go in there!
I must, I tell you! It's a matter of life or death!
- I must see him! I must! - How dare you disturb the judge?
- Take her away! - Oh, I beg of you, please! Let me see him!
- Out! - No! No!
One moment.
What is your name?
Mary Gray, my Lord.
Gray?
I see.
You may leave us.
All right, all right.
Well, Mistress Gray, you realize this is most improper.
Yes, my Lord, but
I came to ask you for the life of my sister.
I know she's not a witch. She's innocent.
That is for the court to decide.
If your sister is not a witch...
she is then, perhaps... a Whig.
A member of the party against the King.
No, my Lord, my sister and I are not interested in politics.
Our father died of them.
Ah, you have wit as well as beauty.
And what would you give for the life of your sister, Mistress Gray?
Anything.
Anything?
After having been duly examined for the crime of sorcery,
Mistress Alicia Gray, in the presence of Lord Chief Justice Lord Jeffries,
here in the Earl Baily, city of London,
will be judged by a duly appointed jury
who have indicated that their study of the evidence in this case
has been completed.
Gentlemen of the jury…
- Are you of one mind? - We are, me Lord.
And how do you find?
Guilty, me Lord.
Alicia Gray,
the bill against you has been proven.
Now let the court hear this.
Let the whole country hear this,
and hear it well!
The laws of this land will be upheld!
Alicia Gray,
I find you guilty
as charged.
You will be taken to a place of execution and you will be burned.
May the Lord have mercy on your soul.
Rise for the Chief Justice!
May the Lord forgive us and protect us,
and exorcise the Devil from this poor child.
God... oh, God.
Oh, God.
Alicia!
- Oh, Alicia! - God...
Speed her death, I beg you!
Speed her death!
Please!
Please do something!
Oh, no!
Mary?
Is that you?
I've been waiting for you.
Alicia is dead.
I know.
Come closer.
Tears...
Too many tears.
My eyes don't cry anymore.
Tell me what's gonna happen to me.
- Don't ask. - I've got to know.
Please?
I see more pain than you can bear.
I see death,
destruction,
murder,
cruelty,
and madness.
But in the end, when all the madness is over,
I see for you peace, happiness,
love.
Mary?
Mary...
God help her.
Stamped out.
Stamped out like rats in a granary.
Else we shall never cleanse England of this pestilence.
This is no time for the faint hearted, my good Lord Wessex.
Oh, I agree, I agree, my good Jeffries.
But you'll find no taint of treachery in my county.
No?
Less than a month ago I burned a witch.
She was from your county. She was from your village.
Indeed, my Lord, she was one of your tenants.
Uh, claret, my Lord?
A true Englishman's wine.
By that witch, I presume you mean Alicia Gray.
She was a stranger here.
Besides, she was not a plotter against our good Lord the King,
God bless him. She was just a witch.
Under the evil spell of the Devil.
A witch, she was rightly put to death.
Well, rightly, of course, my Lord, since it was you who sentenced her.
But, of course, she leaves no taint of treachery
on this fair county of ours.
Your health, Jeffries.
She was tainted with the treachery of her father,
for which he was also put to death.
My Lord, do you believe that the West of England is entirely loyal
to our sovereign Lord, King James?
Why, loyal to a man, and to his brother before him.
Why, as loyal as I am,
and, of course, there's no question of my loyalty.
In troubled times, we must all search our consciences.
Who questions my loyalty is answerable to my sword.
Indeed.
Oh, not you, of course, my good Lord Jeffries,
but some of those knaves in Whitehall, plotters and time-savers.
We do out humble best at Whitehall.
God save us, my Lord, from your worst.
Wessex, have you ever heard of a young man by the name of Barnaby?
Barnaby?
No, the name's not known to me.
It seems he was at Oxford with your son.
With Harry? He may have been...
Since my Lady wife died, I see little of my son and his friends.
- You may be right, of course. - I am right, Wessex.
Barnaby knew your son. He may still know him.
But why are you interested in this young man?
Because it appears he may be in league with the Monmouth plotters in Holland.
My good Lord Jeffries!
Your spies must've been busy lately. Plotters at court, plotters abroad,
who want to see the King's bastard nephew on the throne?
- Like Barnaby. - More wine, my Lord?
- Wessex! - Yes, my Lord?
Speak with your son!
- Question him with subtlety. - About what, my Lord?
About Barnaby and his associates.
Show zeal in this pursuit, Wessex!
Or this fine estate of yours will know more suffering
than ever it knew under Cromwell!
My Lord, forgive the intrusion, sir, but I had to be the first to inform you.
- Not now. Not now. - But it's your son, my Lord.
He's taken up with a wench.
Sister to that witch who burned last month.
Your pardon, my Lord, I thought... I thought you were alone.
‘Tis unpardonable! Get out!
Wait!
Wait.
Who is this lumpkin?
It's Satchel, my Lord, my bailiff.
A worthy man, but sometimes a little too zealous.
Zeal is a good quality, my Lord, do not apologize for it.
Ah, Satchel...
Well, Satchel, you know who I am?
I believe you are the chief of all judges, my Lord.
Chief of all judges. How quaint.
But not altogether inaccurate, is it Wessex?
Now, Satchel, tell me true.
The Earl's son is under a spell, perhaps, and wenches with a she-devil?
I know not if young Mary is a witch, sir.
My son, my Lord, is young, wayward, hot-blooded...
Ah, hot blood.
How eager are the young to spill it, are they not?
Mary, you say?
I will sup tonight at The Bell in Torminster.
Have the wench brought to me there.
Yes, me Lord.
As for you, my Lord Wessex,
I leave you to instruct your son
as to the folly of yet another unwise association.
Do I make my meaning clear?
As always, my Lord.
Quite clear.
Oh, Harry, I must go.
Oh, let Mistress Gurney wait.
But I shall see you later tonight.
And then tomorrow night, we'll leave Rainsford forever.
Oh, is it true, Harry? Are you really going to take me with you?
All is arranged. We go, by night into Devon,
married by a good old friend who's waiting there patiently
and after that, the world is ours.
I must hurry.
England may be too small for us.
The hands of men like Jeffries are too heavy.
Where can we go? Ireland? France?
Further. A new world.
This evening, I'm meeting secretly an old friend.
He's a good friend.
He knows ways in and out of this country.
He's a good friend. Barnaby.
Oh, Barnaby.
- Good to see you again, old friend. - Good to see you.
Well, Harry, you're late!
But then, you always were.
I'll be early for my wedding, I swear.
Barnaby, let me tell you about this girl.
No time for wenches and weddings, friend, the Duke has moved at last.
Monmouth?
Then what's the latest?
Well, Barnaby?
I crossed from the low country two nights ago,
with letters from Monmouth to friends in the West Country.
The Duke will land at Lyme Regis with an army.
When?
Well, come on, you can trust me.
Monmouth lands tonight.
Harry!
Where have you been?
I've been seeing a friend.
The wench?
Is that what kept you from your supper?
- No, the friend was a man. - A man?
Now, you tell me how you came to know about "the wench", as you call her.
- It's common talk. - That's a lie.
You call your own father a liar, you young coxcomb?
Hm, you're right.
Now, listen to me, Harry.
- Jeffries has been here. - Hm, Jeffries.
Hinting at treason and disloyalty.
Asking questions about our friends.
Smelling out witches.
Aye, and finding one right under my very nose.
Your wench. What have you got to say to that?
So, you've turned witch hunter now, father?
Jeffries' influence?
Or is it just a change from plotting against the Crown?
That's not true and you know it.
- But is your own record clean? - Never mind that.
I love "the wench", as you call her. God knows she's suffered enough.
Now, look, Harry...
You have to understand,
Jeffries has ordered that you may not see this wench again.
- And if you defy him… - I defy a hundred Jeffries!
- To the Devil with that monster. - Harry, be careful.
- Goodbye, father. - Harry...
Harry, listen to me!
I'm leaving, father. Tonight, instead of tomorrow night.
- And I'm taking Mary with me. - She's gone.
Gone?
Satchel took her to Jeffries.
- Where? Where? - There's no need...
Even though you're my father, as God as my witness,
- I'll kill you if you don't tell me! - There's no need for violence.
The Bell at Torminster.
Harry...
Be careful!
Me Lord?
Come!
- Has the girl arrived yet? - No, my Lord.
I thought I heard horses.
You're perfectly right. You did, my Lord.
- What is that? - A messenger just brought it, sir.
The Duke of Monmouth has landed en force.
We shall return to London tonight, have the coach ready in ten minutes.
And the girl?
Leave word with the innkeeper. Satchel will hold her safe.
Bring Lord Jeffries' coach around immediately.
Prepare it for leaving at once.
Master Satchel, they told me you wanted me to go somewhere.
- Aye, you're to come with me. - Where to, sir?
- Would you question the Earl's orders? - No, of course not, sir, but...
Come! You ride with me.
Will we be going far?
You see, I was supposed to wait for Lord Sefton...
Silence, lass. Where do you think I'm taking you?
Your young man is the one who sent me to get you.
- Come on. - Oh, I see.
Innkeeper!
That's right.
Thank you.
His Lordship was called away to London.
He left certain instructions about you.
Are you listening, wench?
Listening, but not caring.
Don't play hoity-toity with me, draggle tail, or I'll knock the spit out of you!
- Have some liquor. - No, thank you.
Ah, it was a rough ride, lass, but now we're both out of it, ain't we?
All cozy and warm.
Let's you and me both enjoy a little bit of comfort now, ‘ey?
I only obey orders, you know.
I'm not such a bad fellow when you get to know me better.
You're lucky, you know, to have escaped Jeffries.
- I'll look after you now. Don't worry. - Good, then let me go home.
Can I?
This time of night?
The roads are swarmin’ with thieves, and highwaymen,
and curt-throats, and such like.
Oh, no, my dear. We bed here tonight.
Well, can I go to my room?
Fight away, me beauty,
we have the whole night before us.
No!
Mary, come away from there, quickly!
- Harry! - Come, we must go at once!
- Me Lord. - Is there news, Palafox?
- The city buzzes with rumors. - Whitehall?
Much as expected, sir. Those nearest the King are in panic.
Poltroons! They are frightened of phantoms.
Those phantoms have already won several skirmishes, me Lord.
Brushes with militia, no more.
They say he marches with an army 10,000 strong.
Monmouth's cause is already lost, Palafox.
Even now, the King's armies are marching night and day to cut him off.
At this precise moment, His Majesty's ship, Tangiers,
is within striking distance of Bridgewater in the west.
Colonel Kirk, and those white-coated troopers of his...
his lambs, he calls them, will show the rebels no quarter.
Colonel Kirk has the royal artillery. The rebels have naught but their muskets.
The lambs will become lions,
and blast those foolish rebels to perdition.
His Grace, the Duke of Monmouth will lead the first charge!
Ready! Fire!
Charge!
Ready! Fire!
More of Kirk's dragoons.
There are too many for us.
I'll get the horses.
Don't worry, old friend.
I must find a physician for you.
Harry!
- Oh, Harry. - Barnaby's badly wounded.
We must get horses.
He could never make it to Bridgewater on foot.
- Can I leave him in your care? - Of course.
I'll make for my father's stables. Rainsford isn't far across country.
- Do be careful, Harry. - Yeah.
I feel as if...
as if...
I feel as if... dying.
It's dark now.
Try and rest now, Barnaby. Harry will bring help.
Who's there?
Oh, Satchel, you've come back.
Me Lord.
Good God, what have they done to you?
The wench will pay dearly for this.
The witch?
- Mary Gray? - Your son's mistress.
Satchel, why have you come back?
- I bring you a warning. - You dare to warn me?
Your son is an outlaw.
He's a fugitive from Monmouth's rebel army.
Like the others, he's on the run from Sedgemoor.
Thank you, Satchel,
for coming back to tell me.
I do you no favors, my good Lord.
There's a price for the warning I bring you.
Price?
- What do you mean, you dog? - No, not your dog. No longer!
You've become a Jeffries man.
- My price is 100 crowns. - What for?
Pay the price, and the information will never reach Jeffries or his spies.
100 crowns, you said?
Aye.
Pay up!
I shall take your best saddle horse, and be on my way.
A small price to pay, my good Lord,
for a son's life.
Thank you for your help, Sally, one day I'll repay you.
- Who was that? - A friend. No one you would know.
- What friend? - A boy from the village.
You're lying, you little slut!
You're lying, Sally. You're lying to your master.
You're not my master. Not anymore!
Come back here, slut! Now you listen.
Tell me who rode out, or by God, I'll snap your throat.
No!
Who was it? Tell me!
No!
Tell me quickly! Who was it?
Tell me!
Young Lord Harry.
Harry... Harry Sefton?
Sally!
You were a good girl to tell me.
Mary, now...
Is she with him?
Where he goes, she can't be far away.
She'll make a good recruit for my army.
For being such a good girl, Sally, I'm recruiting you, too.
Come on! Get up! Slut!
Oh, God. When will it ever end?
Mary...
Palafox! Palafox!
Coming, my Lord.
Me Lord?
How many rebels are there in Taunton Prison?
At the last count, me Lord, 500 persons held in Taunton Castle.
Then we shall need 500 ropes, shall we not?
If Your Lordship finds them guilty.
The instant they took up arms against the King, they condemned themselves.
Quite so, my Lord.
A swift and speedy end to traitors. That's the best way.
Justice is a terrible thing, Palafox. But justice must be done!
Where is Ketch?
I believe he is at the prison waiting for Satchel
to bring the women rebels, my Lord.
Stop!
Hey, Mother Rosa!
Mother Rosa!
Is that you, Satchel?
It is I, old witch!
Be careful. You're going to your own destruction.
Eh, one day I'll cut off your tongue!
You cutting my tongue...
I'm cutting yours.
You need have no fear, old witch.
How did you know where to find me?
Well, I remember this cave from... from my boyhood.
Don't you remember me?
Oh, Master Harry!
You've got a beard.
My God, you've got a beard.
What do you want?
We hunt a villain who has stolen away our women
- for the great trial at Taunton. - Women?
They passed this way two hours ago.
On foot, and suffering cruelly. Among them was the one you love.
There was one guard at the head and one at the rear.
Then there's four against two.
- We'll have Satchel for supper. - Beware the devil in red robes
and the man whose face has been marked by the Prince of Darkness.
Thank you, dear lady.
Bring them here inside.
Get over there!
Stand upright!
Will, news at last.
Satchel took the road to Taunton not so long ago.
The road over Blackrock Moor.
Every man jack of you is wanted by Judge Jeffries and the hangman.
- It's not too late to back out now. - My wife's up there on Blackrock.
That swine, Satchel, took her
and left the two children in an empty house.
- Count on me. - And me. That monster's got my Sal.
Come on, then. There's work to do.
Don't worry.
What's going to happen to us?
I don't know.
There ain't no use crying. It's not going to help.
Mary!
Sometimes I ask myself whether the right to life or death
was ever given to mere men,
or if God Almighty did not, himself, deliver unto me the responsibilities
for that which we are doing.
Yet, when I am confronted again with the unholiness,
the rebellion, the crimes, and the sacrilege…
I am reassured that we were not unjust
in dealing the most atrocious punishment to these criminals.
- My Lord. - You dare disturb me?
It was a surprise attack. The women escaped!
- Send for the captain of the guard. - He's waiting, my Lord.
You will take a strong force of men and you will recapture the rebels
who escaped on the moor today. See to it.
Satchel believes that Harry Sefton was at the head of the band, sir.
Henry...
Sefton...
Lord...
Rainsford.
I declare him...
outlaw.
His lands...
forfeit...
to…
the Crown.
His person...
at the mercy...
of the King.
Who is it?
Where did the women go?
Tell me, woman!
I will spare the life of Harry Sefton.
Harry's been captured?
Of course.
He hangs before tonight, unless you tell me.
Tell me, woman!
They went...
across the moor.
Truro... Truro came and brought me some food.
Barris!
Barris.
- That's where they went. Barris. - Barris, eh?
Harry's safe.
He's safe now.
No, you have not saved him, because…
- he hasn't been caught yet. - Liar!
Liar!
If you kill him,
you'll burn for this. You'll burn.
You'll burn.
You'll burn. You...
You'll burn.
You'll burn!
Rosa?
Rosa!
What's the matter?
- Mary... - Yes…
- Harry's been killed. - No, Mother Rosa, he's here.
- Where? - Right here.
Where? Give me his hand.
Harry... I feel danger. Go away.
- We've come for your blessing. - You have my blessing.
Go. Go, you're in danger.
- Go, quickly, go. - Oh, Harry...
Go away. Go.
Take him alive. Judge Jeffries’ orders.
In name of His Gracious Majesty, King James II,
let the assize be open.
The prisoners will stand.
The accused, Jonathan Dicken.
The charge, high treason.
You, Dicken,
I sentence you to be hanged by the neck until you are dead.
John!
After, of course, the formalities of drawing and quartering.
The accused, Sally Downs.
- Spare her, my Lord! Spare her! - Silence, you dog!
Against you, Sally Downs,
stands the following accusation:
You are accused of assisting the escape of the notorious witch Mary Gray.
No, my Lord, that's not true.
Be silent now.
You will be examined for sorcery in the castle dungeons.
After which, you will rejoin your lover. In Hell.
The accused, Lord Henry Sefton.
Not he!
His case will be tried later.
For such a nobly born rogue as you, Sefton,
we must take special measures.
The accused, Steven Truro.
What name?
T... Truro.
I have a title, rogue! Use it or I'll have your tongue by the roots!
I said Truro,
me Lord.
Well, Truro, the bill against you is clear enough.
How do you plead?
Not guilty, m... my Lord.
You have wasted enough of the court's time, Truro.
I sentence you to death.
You will be hanged together with all these rebel dogs.
James Quigly, me Lord. Charge, treason.
Condemned.
Ian Oxley, me Lord. The charge, treason.
Condemned.
Patricia Leader, me Lord. The charge, sorcery.
Condemned.
Roger Cartwright, me Lord. The charge, conspiracy.
Condemned.
Edward Mac, me Lord. The charge, conspiracy.
Condemned!
Thomas Howarth, me Lord. The charge, treason.
Condemned!
You are all condemned, for crimes against King and Kingdom…
to hang. To dangle until you are but dead.
To be then cut down, still alive,
to have your entrails drawn out and thrust into your own mouths.
To be further hanged,
then quartered like the carcasses of beef you are.
You number 500,
but even if you were 5,000,
the execution of this sentence would be just before God Almighty.
And may He have mercy upon your souls.
Get busy, turnkey.
We have much work to do.
Whether witch or wench,
they must be taught obedience to the laws of God and country.
Admit your witchcraft, and you shall only burn.
Otherwise I shall have the pleasure of my skills.
A slow, painful, never-ending death.
I'm not a witch. I'm not a witch!
Now, will you not change your mind
and admit that you dabble in sorcery
and mix with sorcerers?
I'm not a witch.
You're a traitor, like all your friends.
You don't know who are my friends.
There is certain information...
Believe me...
Release her.
Me Lord?
The Earl of Wessex, sir.
- Well, my Lord Wessex? - My Lord.
I've come, Sir, for the person of my son.
Palafox, take note of this.
I do believe my Lord Wessex is attempting to suborn justice.
- If my son is your prisoner... - The King's, Wessex.
The King's.
Then in the name of the King, I ask you to pardon him.
It is the King's pleasure.
Do you not understand?
So the King has pardoned him?
But this is a plea for clemency.
It is a very different matter, my Lord Wessex, as you very well know.
Your son has not been pardoned by the King, nor by anyone else.
His fate is still in my hands.
If you ignore the King's pleasure, if you hang him...
Whether I hang him, draw him, quarter him, behead him,
transport him, or pardon him,
is entirely a matter for my court.
I bid you good day, my Lord.
My Lord, would that, but once...
you had seen one of your own sentences carried out.
Unfortunate, me Lord.
I shall do my best to contain my disappointment.
Wessex still has power at court,
though our spies distrust his loyalty.
The Earl of Wessex's time will come.
I pity it, though, sir,
to let young Sefton slip right through our hands.
Did I say he had?
- Fetch me the girl. - Mary?
Hey, you!
So how do you enjoy your treatment, girl?
Do you have any complaints or grievances?
I was ordered to fetch Mary Gray. Is that her?
Yes. Her sister was burned for sorcery.
That's why she's here.
So you too are one of them, a daughter of the Devil.
Now your time has come, the time of your judgement!
It's your turn!
She shivers.
Look how she trembles. No, your period of grace has not expired yet.
The Chief Justice merely uttered the wish to see you.
Who knows,
maybe you're lucky.
Walk.
There.
Look at her.
You may go in.
Yes...
Off with it!
Undress her.
Get in the tub.
That's quite enough.
Here.
And make sure that His Lordship is satisfied with you.
Here you go.
- Get me out of here! I'm not guilty! - Stop screaming, wench! Quiet!
You sent for me, my Lord?
I did.
You had a great love for your sister, did you not?
Yes, my Lord.
And His Lordship of Rainsford.
You had a great love for him, too, so it seems.
I do, my Lord.
Such devotion…
deserves a worthy reward.
A life, perhaps?
I could bestow such a gift.
And you...
I desire you.
You excite me.
You're driving me insane.
Now you will be mine.
Mine alone.
My Lord,
tell me again that you're going to spare Harry's life.
His life?
Doubtless, he will make a new life for himself.
In the plantations.
Plantation?
Exile?
Without a doubt.
And now, in God's name, get you gone.
Devil!
Palafox! Palafox!
Take this bitch away!
See that she goes to London in chains.
- Truro? - Yeah?
I just spoke to Sally.
- Pass the word down the line. - Right.
Harry.
Tomorrow, the executions begin.
- Are you certain? - Aye.
I got it from one of the guards. Brings our gruel.
He's a Devon man, too, poor soul.
The soldiers are mostly gone.
Together with the women. Left for the plantations.
So, Mary and my wife, as well.
We shall have to act speedily, if at all.
Rather death by the sword than slow torture.
Pass the word.
Well, me beauties?
Are you enjoying yourselves?
You've not much longer on this earth.
You talk mighty proud, good Satchel.
- What a proud valet you are. - You impudent dog!
Free everybody.
Let's give the dirty dog what he deserves.
The court is now in session.
Satchel,
as justice of this court, I ask you your plea.
Guilty or not guilty?
- Guilty! - Let the prisoner speak for himself!
Well, sir?
What are you?
- Spare me please! Spare me! - Quiet, dog!
What say the jury?
- Is he guilty of all crimes? - Guilty!
I sentence you to be hanged by the neck,
- until you are dead. - No!
No, not hanging. That's too good for him!
Truro, we have a lot to do.
Harry. Thank God you're safe.
Now William of Orange has landed, you are free.
But aren't you a King James man?
In perilous times, deceit becomes a necessity.
But the other prisoners on the way to London?
Oh, every man with a horse to his name is with us.
The prisoners travel slowly with King James’ guns.
They won't get far.
Lord Chancellor of England...
- I have the great seal, at last. - Me Lord!
What use is the great seal to you now? The King is gone!
- You lie, Palafox. You lie. - When have I ever lied to you, my Lord?
Tell me truly, Palafox…
- What is the news from Whitehall? - The King has fled the country.
His last message was that you should join him, me Lord, in France.
- I stay here. - Me Lord, don't you understand?
Prince William of Orange has landed to claim the throne.
I am the Lord Chancellor.
Whoever reigns... I stay.
What now?
The city beggars...
Stuart or Orange man, it's all the same to them,
so long as they have their bellies full.
Me Lord...
I have a warrant for your arrest.
And this time, it is the King's pleasure.
As well as mine.
Traitor.
No, my Lord...
’tis you who have betrayed England.
Bring him to the tower.
All right! Come on!
Surely a man loyal to God, King and country,
such as I have always been
cannot be condemned as cruel and unjust for pursuing his duties vigorously,
even when it weighed heavily on his conscience.
Perhaps in the wake of today's hysteria,
history will judge me fairly.
Jeffries?
You...
were…
right...
Wessex, I...
I never knew...