Becket Page #3

Wash your daughter, dog,

and kill her fleas.

She's coming to the palace

for My Lordship here.

He's a Saxon, too,

so I hope you'll be pleased.

Give him money, Thomas.

I'm feeling generous this morning.

Don't worry about your daughter.

Nobody will come to take her away.

I'll see to that. And tell your son

he should stay hidden in the forest

until he can handle a knife better.

Here.

(men shouting/laughing)

- Ooh!

- (laughing continues)

Forgive me.

Not for fighting, my dear baron.

For eating.

(laughter)

(d singing)

(d singing)

(d singing stops)

Go on. It's lovely.

(d singing resumes)

- (d singing stops)

- (men shouting)

Noisy brutes.

You seem to spend a great deal

of time in their company.

No, I can forget it when I come to you.

I'm happy that I can relieve you.

Now, don't tease me tonight, Gwendolen.

I'm off to France again tomorrow,

and war.

I am My Lord's captive.

Whatever his purpose

and whatever his mood.

- I hope so.

- It is God's will,

since he gave the Normans

victory over my people.

- And that's the only reason you're here?

- If the Welsh had won the war,

I would have married a man

of my own race at my father's castle.

God did not will it so.

All right.

I'm sorry I was so late coming to you,

but the king is demanding,

and the barons

have to be kept at bay.

I'm lying.

You are my lord, God or no God.

If we had won the war,

you could just as easily have

taken me from my father's castle.

I would have come with you.

For you had taken my heart

before you captured my body.

Have I said something wrong?

Somehow I can never support

the idea of being loved.

- I told you that.

- (humming/footsteps)

(men continue shouting)

Oh, please.

Sit.

Uh, play something.

Something sad.

It helps the digestion.

Play.

(d singing)

Oh, sweet and melancholy.

(d continues singing)

Sit, Thomas.

Witness one of my finer moments.

I behave like a brute,

but I'm as soft as swans down inside.

(belches)

You know, Thomas,

sometimes I think that you and I

are the only civilized men in England.

I eat with a fork,

and you've made me into a man

of the most delicate sensibilities.

And now, if you really love me,

you should find me a beautiful,

well-bred girl to give me a little polish.

Favor for favor.

Do you remember?

I am your servant, My Lord.

All that I have is yours.

But you are also gracious enough

to say I am your friend.

Yes, that's what I mean -

as one friend to another.

You do care for her then?

You do care about something?

Or do you?

Go on, tell me.

Tell me if you care for her or not.

I said, "favor for favor,"

and I asked for your word.

And I... gave it to you.

Right.

Well, that's settled then.

May I have a moment's grace?

Surely. Surely.

After all, I'm not a savage.

Did you promise me to him?

No.

I promised him anything he asked for.

I never thought it would be you.

If he sends me away tomorrow,

will you take me back?

No.

I leave you this.

You've almost learned to play it.

You've not found anything in the whole

world to care for, have you?

- No.

- We both belong to a conquered race,

but you've forgotten

that people robbed of everything

can still have one thing left

to call their own.

Yes.

Where honor should be,

in me there is only a void.

I loved you,

Thomas Becket.

My Lord.

Enter.

How careless you are, Thomas.

You had forgotten her.

But you told me that you fancied her,

and I remembered.

You see, I really am your friend,

and you're wrong not to love me.

Good night, sire.

Shall I undress, My Lord?

What?

Shall I undress?

(laughs)

Thomas?

Thomas?

She's dead.

She's killed herself.

All this blood.

Help me, Thomas. I'm frightened.

I'm the king!

Get rid of her.

Guard.

I'm sleeping here tonight.

Give this girl a silver piece

and let her go.

He won't hurt you.

I don't want to be alone tonight.

I'm here, My Prince.

You'll hate me now.

I'll... I'll... I'll never be able

to trust you.

You have nothing to fear.

You gave me your seal.

And while I wear it,

my duty is to my king.

But I'll never know

what you're thinking.

Sleep now.

We cross the channel tomorrow.

When we face the French

on the field of battle, there will be

simple answers to everything.

So long as Becket must improvise

his honor from day to day,

he will serve you faithfully.

But what if one day he should meet

his honor in truth,

face to face?

But where is Becket's honor?

An early good morning to you, gentlemen.

I've just ridden from the town.

I've arranged for its capitulation.

Will there be loot?

No, I want these people

to collaborate with grace.

The French bishop will deliver

the keys of the city to the king

at eight o'clock in the cathedral.

No fighting?

What are we here for?

To secure King Henry's possessions

in France.

You have three more towns to recapture.

I'd rather sack the town

and slaughter the lot.

Yes, and have a dead city.

No, I want to give the king living cities

to increase his wealth.

From dawn this morning,

I'm the townspeople's dearest friend.

And what of England's pride?

England's pride, my dear baron,

is to succeed.

What a mentality.

Chancellor of England.

Who knows what he is.

He's a Saxon.

(grunting)

Release him.

- Leave us, Sergeant.

- My Lord?

Leave us.

What are you, a Saxon monk, doing

in France? They'll kill you, you know?

- I'm prepared to die.

- How old are you?

- 18.

- Hmm. Dying is easy at 18.

Your knife stinks of onions,

like every proper little Saxon's knife.

You used to be a Saxon.

Now you belong to the Normans.

Ah, I see.

A Saxon knife for a Saxon collaborator.

Did you think that by killing me

you could liberate your race?

- No, not my race. Myself.

- From what?

My shame... and yours.

The Normans have occupied England

for a hundred years since Hastings.

Shame is an old vintage to the Saxon.

Your father and your grandfather

drank it to the dregs.

- The cup is empty now.

- No, never.

What's your name?

What is your name?

John.

Sergeant.

Well, brother John,

I'm going to save your life.

It has no importance for me,

but it's very rare for fate to bring one

face to face with one's own ghost

when young.

- My Lord?

- Have this monk returned to England

to the custody of the abbot

of his monastery.

I want him treated without brutality

but carefully watched.

Yes, My Lord.

- (gargling)

- My Lord?

(gargling continues)

- Good morning, My Lord.

- (gargles)

Oh.

French wine.

I had a little too much last night.

It's their major contribution

to civilization.

- Here's another.

- (woman gasps)

I must say I adore my French possessions.

They're certainly worth recapturing.

What's your name, my pretty?

- Name?

- Marie.

Marie. Very French.

French luxury is very luxurious.

And for the moment, free.

We take possession of the town

this morning.

Yes, I heard.

You managed that very well, Thomas.

Personally, I shall miss the fighting.

Meanwhile, we have some business

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