The Black Shield of Falworth

Your Majesty!

A mild seizure.

It will pass.

We better return to thy castle sire.

No, Lord Alban.

I'll not spoil the day's sport.

I'll return alone.

- But sire...

- Continue the hunt Lord Alban.

His Majesty's seizures

come more often.

- Is it wise to encourage his hunting?

- It was his own wish.

Should he die,

Prince Hal would rule.

Prince Hal would rule

his wine bottles and his tailors.

The Council would still rule England.

And the Earl of Alban

rules the Council.

Myles, Diccon, be quick now.

The Earl of Alban is riding this way.

Hurry lad, into the hayloft.

Unless you've decided

you'd like to become a soldier.

I wouldn't mind soldiering

for England,

but not for the Earl of Alban.

His Lordship commands you to fetch

water for himself and his guests.

At once your Lordship.

Cool water from the well.

After a morning's hunt a flagon

of wine would sit better than water.

You'd not stomach the witch's brew

my peasants call wine.

I won't say the same

for their wenches.

Seems Sir Robert doesn't intend

to come up empty handed after all.

Run Meg. Run!

So her favors are saved for you.

Peasant clod!

She's my sister.

You insolent young swine.

Break it down!

Thanks to Sir Robert

there's added zest to the day.

A cask of my best Spanish wine to

the man who hunts down the peasant.

Meg!

Meg!

- Diccon. They'll kill him.

- They'll not catch him.

He'll lost them in the forest

and go to Friar Edward.

Get your belongings and Myles.

We best be away before they return.

Good evening.

We found this horse nearby.

We seek the rider.

A peasant boy, dark haired.

At mass today I saw fully

20 peasant boys with dark hair.

- Are any about now?

- Mass has been over for many hours.

But should you wish

to come in and pray

the chapel is open.

We have no time. Sooner or later

he'll return to the cottage.

We'll be waiting.

Let them wait.

We'll make our way north.

We'll find other land to farm.

Your father never intended you

to be a farmer Myles.

Nor Meg a farmer's wife.

What we'd planned for a year hence

we must do now.

In the morning Diccon will take you

to the Earl of Nlackwonh.

This letter was entrusted to me

by your father.

It will remind Nlackworth

of an old friendship,

and ask him to take

you both into his service.

Now you know why you were taught

the reading, writing and Latin.

You go to the household

of a great noble.

If the scum who rode with Alban

is a sample of your nobility,

I'd rather stay away from them.

You will find a different breed

in Nlackworth Castle.

- Was this also left by my father?

- The ring is to remain with me.

Was this my father's?

That ring has been hidden for

many years and it best remain hidden.

You always told us that you

served in the wars with my father.

This coat of arms belonged

to no common soldier.

Diccon, please tell us now.

Who was our father?

Diccon was sworn never to tell you,

as was I.

It will avail you nothing

to question us further.

Leave the ring.

Since it was my father's

it is now mine to keep.

If you're seen with that ring

it could mean your death.

I promise to hide it well

until I learn its meaning.

Meg is weary and

we've got a long ride tomorrow.

You said it was a great castle,

but oh I had no idea.

- It's bigger than our Crispy-Dale.

- It will afford you better shelter.

Help me. Stop him please.

- Let me up.

- Stay as you are.

- Walter.

- Let me up you oaf.

My Lady.

Forgive me. It seems so strange.

I'll lash that peasant skin

to ribbons.

Walter no! I asked him for help.

He thought he was saving me.

And he did.

You didn't overtake me

and you'll pay the wager.

You've won my gratitude,

Sir Gallant.

And my favor.

Have you not had

your fill of buffoonery?

Be thankful the Lady Anne

finds you amusing, bumpkin.

My chivalrous friend, that is not

the way to treat a lady's favor.

It is to be given directly

into his Lordship's hands.

What a marvelous,

pretty dress she wore.

We bear a letter for

the Earl of Nlackwonh.

Give it here.

It is to be given directly

into his Lordship's hands.

I'll take the dagger country boy.

You'll get it back when you leave.

Take them to the Household Guard.

Fresh from the farm.

It must be a very good farm

to raise anything lovely as that.

Those giggling fools

are laughing at us.

I'll knock their silly

heads together.

Stop Giles!

Perhaps you'll tell me the jest?

Sure tanglefoot.

You've but to see yourself

and laugh with the rest of us.

Stop Giles!

And who are you rescuing now,

Sir Gallant?

His manners need mending.

- As do others here.

- This ruffian needs a flogging.

- I'll do it myself.

- Walter.

Walter no!

Stop.

Let me remind you

his Lordship has visitors

and also a very bad temper.

He'll not like

brawling in the castle.

I'll not incur his displeasure

over the likes of this one.

I'll ask your pardon for all

and your mercy,

lest your head breaking

leave our castle undefended.

Take along deep breath hot head.

Now another.

That's better.

They have come to enter into

service in this household.

If I can be on greater service,

just call on Francis Gascoyne.

I am Diccon Bowman of Crispy-Dale.

This is Myles and his sister Meg.

They have come to enter into

service in this household.

Then you're off to a bad start.

The vile tempered individual

who just left is Walter Blunt.

Chief of Esquires.

Since we share an opinion

of that swaggering fop

We bring a letter

to his Lordship from...

of the family.

Stone me Nlackwonh.

The goblet's empty again.

Right in the soup.

I've done it properly.

- Let's go back.

- Your Highness,

From an old friend.

Oh good. Good!

The Prince of Wales is visiting.

You might as well get comfortable.

It sometimes takes a long while to

drag Prince Hall away from his wine.

In that case we'll join you,

after a glass or two.

- Let's go back.

- Your Highness,

I have some excellent wine

in the library.

Oh good. Good!

Would your grace care to join us?

I have neither your capacity

nor appetite for wine your Highness.

In that case we'll join you,

after a glass or two.

They have gone your Highness.

Drunkard. Wastrel.

Fog. How I tire of

this sour game we play.

The fate of England

is worthy of a game.

Even to your daughter

becoming a pawn?

When last I saw Alban

he spoke to me of an alliance

between his house and yours.

I've long known of his desires

from the day Walter Blunt,

his brother, came to me.

Alban trusts me

to encourage this alliance.

So successfully

have I played his fool.

- What's our move now?

- I must keep my pretence

as you must keep yours.

Should once your mask slip,

Alban would recognize England's

future king as strong and just.

In that recognition lies your death.

Would that there were a sword

to rid us of this pestilence.

Neither yours nor mine

is skilled enough.

So I must play Al bans friend

and you his fool.

Your Highness, we should go.

I have asked Master Gascoyne

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