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NARRATOR: Back then, Scandinavia was a region not widely
Official YIFY movies site: YTS.MX
known to Englishmen.
Mr Wraxhall was a man past middle age,
possessed of some private means,
and very much alone in the world.
His travels took him, in the autumn of 1863,
with some digressions, to Sweden.
As to Mr Wraxhall's character,
he was an intelligent and cultivated fellow.
His besetting fault was that of an inquisitiveness,
possibly a good fault in a traveller.
Certainly a fault for which this traveller
paid dearly enough in the end.
Ah.
Is it to your liking, Herr Wraxhall?
Erm...
HE SPEAKS SWEDISH STILTEDLY
In English, please, dear sir.
In English. I do not expect you to...
Oh, most kind. I can - erm, if I flatter myself - read a little
of your mother tongue, but as for conversation... Ha!
Everything is very much to my liking, Froken De la Gardie.
And may I say, once again, how very, very kind it is of you...
Oh, it is nothing, sir. Nothing.
But...it-it was to the soup I-I was referring.
Well, my palate, like my Swedish, is somewhat limited.
Although, as with my languages, I am determined to broaden it.
Uh, them.
We have so few visitors here in Vastergotland.
Since my husband passed away...
..the house has been so very silent.
Hmm. So sad.
WRAXHALL SLURPS
You are indeed most welcome.
And it is fascinating, is it not,
to have one's family history investigated?
Well, I-I-I very much hope so.
Well, so long as you do not, erm...
..erm...
..disturb any skeletons.
I have no intention of so doing.
The papers that I'm particularly interested in concern
the correspondence between your ancestor, Sophia Albertina,
in Stockholm, and her married cousin, Ulrica Leonora,
here in Raback in 1705...
You are absolutely sure? We have 14 bedrooms here at Raback...
13 or 14. I forget.
I wouldn't dream of imposing upon your hospitality any more, Froken.
The village inn is perfectly suited to my purposes.
Very well.
Until tomorrow. Until tomorrow.
Oh.
Who is this fearsome looking chap?
Ah.
You are gazing upon the very first De la Gardie.
He who built Raback.
A most extraordinary man was Count Magnus.
Well, he looks it. Yes.
A most extraordinary man.
Goodnight, Herr Wraxhall.
Yes. Goodnight, Froken De la Gardie.
DOOR CREAKS Ah!
WRAXHALL CHUCKLES NERVOUSLY Ah, thank you. Goodnight, yes.
Oh.
Thank you.
Ah.
God morgon, Herr Nielsen. God morgon.
Herr Nielsen, I-I wondered if you could just satisfy my curiosity.
To be sure. How...
Ah.
How can I be of service?
Well, yesterday I was introduced to a Count Magnus.
What?
Oh, his portrait, that is.
Ah.
Yes, it's a very fine portrait, in my estimation.
And the gracious lady who so kindly has given me access to her archive
told me a little bit about him, but I wondered whether you...
Count Magnus.
His name is not good hereabouts, Herr Wraxhall.
He's not kindly remembered.
Oh.
Do tell.
Ah... It's a long time ago.
But for a scholar, like me, this is just meat and drink.
Well... Please, please. I'm most eager to learn.
Oh...
There was some trouble not long after the...
..the great house was built.
People rose up, there was discontent.
Oh, yes. Oh. I see.
Peasants, all that sort of thing.
Yes, you know, you're rather more prone to it here on the Continent,
aren't you, than we... Erm...
Sorry, do go on.
The uprising, it was put down by the Count.
And he, he was merciless, always merciless.
Tenants were flogged or branded if they were late with the rents,
and some houses that he said encroached on his land
were...were burnt down, with the people still inside.
Oh. Gracious.
And then, of course,
there was the other matter. DOOR OPENS
MAN CALLS OUT Other matter?
NIELSEN RESPONDS
Uh, you must excuse. W-w-what other matter?
The Black Pilgrimage.
Oh.
What's that? I must go. I'm sorry.
I have businesses in Skara. I will be back this evening.
One moment more. I'm sorry. Herr Nielsen.
What was the Black Pilgrimage?
It's said that Count Magnus brought something back with him.
Something...
..or someone.
Oh.
METALLIC CLINKING
METALLIC CREAKING
Yes, I wonder...
Erm...
IN SWEDISH:
I don't do that.
Oh. The Count built it?
His mausoleum. His tomb.
Oh, how fascinating.
Ah. Sophia Albertina...
Where are you?
TUNEFULLY: Sophia Albertina...
..she got so much leaner.
When she ate the beetroot soup...
..that made her...greener!
WRAXHALL CHUCKLES
HE HUMS TO HIMSELF
Ah. The Talmud.
BOOK THUMPS LOUDLY
Oh, blast.
Well...
Talk of the devil.
Metals...
Ironmongery...
Dry goods. Hmm!
Kitchen expenditure.
How very disappointing of you, Count Magnus.
Turba Philosophorum.
The Book Of The Phoenix.
Book Of The Thirty Words.
Book Of The Toad?
He was an alchemist.
Liber Negrae...
..Peregrinationis.
The Book Of The Black Pilgrimage.
That's indubitably the Count's hand.
Indubitably.
"If any man desires to obtain a long life,
"if he would obtain a faithful messenger
"and see the blood of his enemies,
"it is necessary that he must first...
"..travel into the city of Chorazin."
Chorazin, Chorazin...
"And there salute...
"..the Prince.
"Prince...
"..of the Air."
Ah.
I trust my ancestors' correspondence isn't proving
too tedious, Herr Wraxhall.
Oh, on the contrary, dear lady. On the contrary.
The, erm...
The mausoleum, the Count's tomb,
might I crave a... Yes?
..a visit?
It would be so helpful for my researches.
Certainly.
It is in the care of the church in the next village.
I shall have a word with the deacon.
Ah. Now, that must have been him I saw earlier.
I beg your pardon?
Well, I saw someone, standing on the steps.
Locking - or unlocking, I suppose - the door.
That must have been your deacon. Yes.
It must have been.
LIVELY CHATTER
Herr Nielsen!
I know something about that Black Pilgrimage you mentioned.
What was it that the Count brought back with him?
I, erm... Go on. You may as well tell me everything you know.
Herr Wraxhall, I will tell you this one little tale and no more.
Not any more.
You must not ask me anything when I have done.
Is that agreed?
Very well.
In my grandfather's time...
..there were two men, Anders Bjornsen and Hans Thorbjorn.
They were simple men from hereabouts.
Hans was a blacksmith, I think, and Anders Bjornsen a carpenter,
and he was a beautiful man.
Note that, Herr Wraxhall - he was once a beautiful man.
THEY ALL SING
These men, they said, "Count Magnus is dead.
"The count is long dead. We don't care for him.
"Tonight we will go for a free hunt in his wood."
That's the long wood on the hill that you have seen outside Raback.
Those who heard them say this, they said,
"No.
UNTRANSLATED
"Don't go.
"If you go, you will meet persons walking
"that should not be walking.
"They should be resting.
"Not walking."
But these men, they laughed.
Vi kommer!
Vi kommer, Greve Magnus!
So, that evening they go into the wood.
And my grandfather, he was sitting here in this inn.
It was, uh...summer and a light night,
and with a window open, he could... he could see out to the wood.
And hear.
So, he sat there, and two or three men with him,
and they listened.
At first, they hear nothing at all.
Then...
TERRIFIED SCREAM
DISEMBODIED LAUGHING
It was not one of those two men that laughed.
Indeed, they have all of them said that it was not any man at all.
When it was quite light enough, they fetched the priest.
They said, "Father, put on your gown and your ruff
"and come and bury these men, Hans Thorbjorn and Anders Bjornsen."
Understand, they were sure these men were dead.
But they went to the wood, and they found the men there.
Hans Thorbjorn was standing with his back against a tree,
and all the time he was pushing with his hands.
Pushing.
Pushing away something from him which wasn't there.
So, they led him away and they...
..they took him to the house at Nykoping, the madhouse.
And he died before winter, but he...he went on pushing.
And, also, Anders Bjornsen was there.
But he was dead.
I told you this about Anders Bjornsen
that he was once a beautiful man.
But now his face was not there,
because the flesh of it had been sucked away off the bones.
You understand that?
My grandfather couldn't forget it.
And so they laid him down on the bier that they had brought,
and they put a cloth over his head.
MEN SING PSALM
They could not close the eyes of Anders Bjornsen
because there was nothing to close over them.
This they could not bear.
Therefore, the priest sent for a spade,
and they buried him in that place.
You will need a drink.
NARRATOR: It could not be denied that all this threw
a rather lurid light upon the tastes and beliefs of the count.
But to Mr Wraxhall, separated from him by so many, many years,
the thought that the great man might have added to his general
forcefulness alchemy, and to alchemy, something like magic...
WRAXHALL: Oh. God morgon!
..only made him a more picturesque figure.
Chorazin.
Chorazin? Oh, yes, yes, Chorazin, yes.
You're a man of God. What do you know of it?
Why do you want to know?
I have an inquiring mind.
As I recall, erm, it's in the Apocrypha, isn't it?
It was a town in the Holy Land.
If you know, why do you ask?
Oh... I beg your pardon.
It was a town cursed by our Lord,
for they were unaffected by his mission.
Then began He to upbraid the cities wherein most
of His mighty works were done, for they repented not.
Woe unto thee, Chorazin!
Woe unto thee, Bethsaida!
Matthew 11, 20 to 24.
Luke 10, 13... Yes, it must be a bit of...
..to 15.
Yes. It must be a bit of a ruin now.
Mm.
And didn't I read somewhere...
..the Antichrist? The Antichrist will be born there.
Yes.
Uh...
Erm...
Tack.
DEACON CLEARS THROAT
So, the Count, he journeyed to Chora...Chorazin?
Is that the tale?
And he wasn't alone when he returned?
Do you happen to know what the panels represent
on the sides of the tomb?
There is one figure, it's most peculiar. Is it a man at all?
It has some kind of protuberance,
like the tentacles of a devil-fish.
There are tales, Herr Wraxhall.
Oh, yes?
Tales I was going to say...
..that I have forgotten.
God dag, min herr.
Oh. Well, thank you, once again, for sparing the time.
Oh... Oh!
PAPERS RUSTLE Sorry.
Here, allow me.
Are you awake, Count Magnus? Are you asleep, Count Magnus?
WRAXHALL CHUCKLES
Oh.
How odd I didn't notice that.
I felt sure. Hmm.
Yes.
No, no, no, no.
The Count sleeps safe enough.
Right.
Well, alas, dear lady, the old country beckons.
It's been so good to have life in the old house again.
Jollity and singing.
Oh, gracious, um, you didn't hear me?
Upon occasion, ja. Most ingenious.
Oh! And what of your researches?
Oh, illuminating,
if only one had more time.
That is the one thing none of us have enough of.
Is that not so, Herr Wraxhall?
Well, your ancestor, the count,
he certainly tried his best
to beat time's winged chariot, I mean. Indeed.
But it's all nonsense, of course, isn't it?
Local superstitions and fears all mixed up with titbits
of fact and speculation.
As you yourself observed, he was an extraordinary man,
but I hardly think he would have made a bargain with the devil
to live forever.
The Black Pilgrimage.
Oh, you know of it? We're an old family, Herr Wraxhall.
The count, he cast a long shadow over us.
I was raised on these stories of his journey to the Holy Land,
a most unholy business.
Of his coming back with...
..a companion.
It's deeply fascinating,
as I say, for a scholar like myself, these, um...these fairy tales.
Fairy tales?
I wish you a safe journey, Herr Wraxhall.
Take care.
Take good care.
Oh.
Yes, well...
It would be remiss of me
not to say goodbye to the old boy, wouldn't it?
After all the fun he's given me.
Oh, Count Magnus. Count Magnus.
It is with sadness...
HE CHUCKLES
..that I bid thee farewell.
Oh, dear old Magnus, Count Magnus,
be thee in heaven or be thee in hell...
Oh, best not say that.
Yes.
You may have been a rascal in your time,
but I'd dearly like to see you.
Or rather...
PADLOCK CLANGS NOISILY
Oh.
RUMBLING
CHAIN RATTLES
STONE SCRAPES
SQUELCHING
HE YELLS
What have I done?!
SHOUTS: What have I done?!
NARRATOR: Poor Mr Wraxhall.
He set out on his journey to England the next day
and eventually reached there in safety.
And yet, as can be gathered from the changed hand
and inconsequent jottings of his notebooks,
he was a broken man.
He seems to have become obsessed with enumerating
and describing his fellow passengers...
Commercial traveller.
There's no...no trouble there.
Black cloak.
Brown hat.
I couldn't see his face!
I couldn't see his face.
CARRIAGE RATTLES
DISTANT FOX SCREECH
DOOR CREAKS
They're coming.
That much is obvious.
They're coming to get me.
It's coming.
It!
What did I ever do wrong? What wrong did I do?
I didn't do anything. What did I do?
I can't go to the doctor, can I?
He'll lock me up. HE LAUGHS HYSTERICALLY
Policeman. Policeman. HE LAUGHS
They'd just laugh at me.
Why not? Who'd believe such a story?
I scarcely...scarcely believe it myself.
The Deacon. The Deacon.
Vicious...
He knew all along.
Perhaps they warned you.
All of them!
Oh, God!
What have I done?
CREAKING
HANDLE RATTLES
Oh, God. God. God. Oh, God!
Oh, God. Oh!
Oh, God!
DOOR CREAKS
EVIL LAUGHTER
HE YELLS
CHURCH BELL CHIMES
People in that village still remember
how a strange gentleman arrived one evening years back.
And how, the next morning, he was found dead.
There was an inquest and seven of the jury
that viewed the body fainted.
And none of them would speak of what they saw.
The verdict was "visitation of God".
And here I lie with my companion.
Waiting.
And still they come, like poor Mr Wraxhall.
Curious, over-inquisitive.
Fresh...
PADLOCK CLANGS