Braveheart Page #16

STEPHEN:

Excellent! Stephen is my name. I'm

the most wanted man on the Emerald

Isle. Except I'm not on the Emerald

Isle of course, more's the pity.

HAMISH:

A common thief.

STEPHEN:

A patriot!

Wallace shakes his head and moves back to the fire, as the

sentries take the newcomers to find their own spaces.

EXT. SCOTTISH COUNTRYSIDE - DAY

A column of English light cavalry -- a hundred riders --

moves through the picturesque beauty of the Highlands.

English LORD DOLECROFT is in command, wearing a hat with a

pompous white plume. UP AHEAD, the English SCOUT sees five

Scots, including Hamish, walking out of the forest. The Scots

run; the Scout rides back to Dolecroft.

SCOUT:

Scotsmen, Sire! Headed west!

DOLECROFT:

They've blundered at last! After

them!

The English force charges off. Hamish and his men changed

direction but the English spot them crossing a hilltop and

ride after them. The Scots run for their lives; the English

horses gallop. The Scots run down one slope, up another; the

English follow, find their horses stumbling, and see...

SCOUT:

We're in a bog!

DOLECROFT:

Here, it's firm this way --

But as they move toward the firm ground, fifty Scots appear

on the crest of the hill. Hamish leads them, smiling.

Dolecroft wheels and looks to his rear; Wallace appears there,

with fifty more, and more Scots appear to the left and right

of the English, who are surrounded in the bog. Too late,

Dolecroft realizes his blunder. Wallace lifts his broadsword,

screams, and leads the charge...

EXT. SCOTTISH WOODS - DAY

The Scots are moving through deep woods; they are laden with

the booty they took from the English cavalry: extra weapons,

clothing, food -- and one man even wears the late Dolecroft's

plumed hat. Wallace is leading them, traveling with his heavy

sheathed broadsword across his shoulders.

WALLACE:

Stop here and rest.

They collapse to the leaves and loam, greedily squeezing

water from sheep belly canteens.

INT. STIRLING CASTLE - DAY

LORD PICKERING, English commander, is handed news of the

disaster. He reads the message, and pales.

PICKERING:

Another ambush! My God! ...What about

our infiltrator?

ASSISTANT:

He has already joined them, M'lord.

EXT. SCOTTISH WOODS - NIGHT

The moon is high above the Scots, encamped for the night.

Most everyone is sleeping, but William sits leaning against

a tree, lost in lonely thoughts. Suddenly William freezes; a

shaft of moonlight illuminates a cloaked woman standing twenty

feet ahead of him. Something about her is familiar -- and

then she pulls off the hood, revealing her auburn hair,

cascading in the moonlight... It is Marion!

WALLACE:

Marion! Is... is it you?

Joy explodes on his face, and he runs to her, but stops before

he touches her, as if she might evaporate.

WALLACE:

I'm dreaming.

MARION:

Yes, you are. And you must wake.

WALLACE:

I don't want to wake. I want to stay

with you.

MARION:

And I with you. But you must wake.

WALLACE:

I need you so much! I love you!

MARION:

Wake up, William. Wake up!

HAMISH'S VOICE

Wake up, William!...

MARION/HAMISH

Wake up!...

William clutches at Marion, but his arms can't enclose her.

HE WAKES:

lying on his new tartan, in camp, with Hamish shaking him,

William's arms clutched empty to his chest.

HAMISH:

William! Hounds!

Wallace jumps up, hearing the DISTANT BARKING that alarmed

Hamish. Stephen, the new Irish recruit, races up.

STEPHEN:

We must run in different directions!

HAMISH:

We don't split up!

STEPHEN:

They used hounds on us in Ireland,

it's the only way!

WALLACE:

He's right, Hamish! Campbell! Divide

them and run!

Shoving groups of men in different directions, Wallace then

takes off. His group is about a dozen; they race through the

woods, dodging trees, running aimlessly. They stop and listen.

The BARKS are getting closer.

WALLACE:

Split again!

Again they divide, and race in different directions.

But no matter how they run and dodge, the BARKS grow nearer.

We INTERCUT with the approaching of the dogs -- a large PACK

OF HOUNDS, with keepers like on a fox hunt, and behind the

dogs, Lord Pickering, with his soldiers, prepared for a long

chase, cloaked against the wet darkness, carrying torches.

Wallace and others pause, hear the dogs, and run again, in a

new direction. The hounds are relentless. Wallace's group is

down to Hamish, Stephen, and Faudron.

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