03x08 - Friday's Knights

[bunniefuu]

Previously on "Salem"...

Boy: (screaming)

Mary: You're free of my son, but his brother is still here.

Sentinel: Come Black Sunday, my true brothers will rise from hell and stand beside me.

Mary: This is his w*apon.

Cotton: Red Mercury. I want nothing of it.

I have others to think of.

Gloriana: My baby.

Anne: Cotton's baby.

Mercy: You're asking me to marry you.

Hathorne: This business of love.

All this must be one.

Mercy: But there remains one obstacle.

Isaac.

Isaac: No tears.

You are the luckiest girl I know.

Tituba: Everything you need to k*ll an angel.

You must forge a dagger with that in it and k*ll him with the dagger.

Mary: You can do whatever you want to me.

Just not here.

Sebastian: Yes.

Alden will most likely think it all a dream in the morning, but he'll never forget what he has seen.

Cotton: What lies beyond that door?

Sentinel: Beyond that door lies hell itself.

(doors creak)

(horse neighing)

(wind whistling)

(woman crying)

(crying continues)

Mother: Dorcas, my sweet child!

Dorcas: Mama?

Mother: Help me.

(crying continues)

Dorcas: Is it really you?

Mother: Come to me, little one.

(sinister music plays)

Dorcas: (screams)

(doors creak)

("Cupid Carries A g*n" plays)

♪ Pound me the witch drums ♪
♪ Witch drums ♪
♪ Pound me the witch drums ♪
♪ Pound me the witch drums ♪
♪ The witch drums ♪
♪ Better pray for hell ♪
♪ Not hallelujah ♪

(clicking)

(clicking)

(clang)

(door creaks)

Dinley: Oh, co... come in, my lord.

You're... You're most welcome. You're most welcome.

(door shuts)

Sentinel: The instrument...

Dinley: Oh, my God.

Sentinel: will be placed here, in your trust.

But be very careful.

The instrument is filled with Red Mercury.

When the hammer strikes, all will blow.

(ticking)

Your work has not gone unnoticed.

Dinley: Thank you. Thank you.

Sentinel: You are a flesh artist.

Dinley: Thank you.

Sentinel: And in the new Commonwealth of Hell that we shall build on this earth, you may carve mountains of flesh if you like...

Dinley: Just tell me what am I to do.

Sentinel: Guard the instrument.

Let no man disturb it.

And if you would survive, come to the Sibley Mansion before the clock strikes on Sunday.

Dinley: Can I offer you food or a drink?

Sentinel: I have no taste for food.

But drink, I like.

It briefly restores lost wings.

Dinley: Try this.

Sentinel: (gasps)

Dinley: Gin.

Sentinel: It burns.

I like it.

(door opens, shuts)

Cotton: What is it?

Mary: I did it. He's dead.

Cotton: Who?

You mean...

Mary: Yes. Torn apart.

Left for the animals to eat, if they dare.

Now, will you help me?

Cotton: If you have k*lled the boy and sent the devil back to hell, then what more do you need?

Sentinel: Bastard Samael!

(indistinct yelling)

You old bastard!

Cotton: Who is that bellowing?

(Sentinel shouting in ancient language)

Sebastian: I believe it is our host.

You are most industrious, my lady.

No rest for the wicked.

What conspiracies do you spin now?

Mary: You know very well. The job is but half done.

We still need to take him out.

Sentinel: Samael!

You... You wanted to be king, brother.

Do you like your little kingdom?

Ohh.

His royal court.

Come to bow and scrape?

It makes no difference to me.

I want no worship and no worshippers.

Mary: Then what do you want?

Now that all that was his is yours.

Sentinel: To complete the task.

As intended. Without any distraction... from you.

N-No.

You're no thr*at to me or mine now.

None of you are.

I... I don't share my late brother's ambition to be God, nor... nor to marry my mother, nor even to destroy all of mankind, although I don't particularly mind if I do.

All I want is to free my fallen angels and make Earth their new home.

Black Sunday is still coming.

Death and destruction to Salem.

Do not imagine you have k*lled my brother.

You have only destroyed his mortal self... merely sent him back to hell.

Now, more than ever, it is imperative that none of you open the wrong doors.

Do not let that boy back in.

(horse snorting)

(horse neighs)

Isaac: Dorcas?

(horse squeals)

Easy, boy.

Easy. It's only me.

Easy.

Dorcas?

(ominous music plays)

Cotton: Anne?

Anne?!

Anne: Cheese!

Cotton: Cheese.

Anne: Mm! Mm!

I have been craving cheese.

And... oh, cornbread.

(inhales deeply) And beans.

Cotton: Beans.

Anne: Oh, beans.

I shall have the beans on the cornbread, with the cheese.

Cotton: My love...

Anne: Pregnancy is hungry work.

Cotton: My love, the boy is dead, or at least banished back to hell.

Anne: How?

Cotton: A mass sacrifice of witches.

It was orchestrated by Mary Sibley... the Essex Hive.

Their tree tore him limb from limb.

Anne: So, we are safe.

Cotton: No. Not quite. The Sentinel still lives.

But I do begin to hope that we may be able to stop all this from happening.

Anne: "We"?

Cotton: Yes. Mary Sibley, Sebastian Marburg, John Alden, and I.

Anne: Cotton, they are not your friends.

You cannot trust them.

Cotton: No, but my enemy's enemy will have to do in such dark times.

Now, please move into the mansion now... no more waiting.

Anne: I am ready to quit this house and move today, but why must you take so much risk?

You have me and the baby to think of.

Cotton: And that is why I must risk so much, my love.

So that our little hope may yet grow up in God's country and not the devil's.

Please move into the mansion.

In case I fail.

(indistinct conversations)

Isaac: Something's happened to her.

I know it.

Man: They're ready for you.

Isaac: You need to keep looking for her while I'm in there.

Man: I will.

Isaac: I'll be out as soon as I can.

Put those two outside.

And keep everyone away.

Mary.

You live?

Now I believe anything's possible.

Mary: Let's hope so, old friend.

Now, gentlemen, we have less than 48 hours to save Salem.

Isaac: With respect, Mary.

It's the people that matter... not the town.

So why not lead them out of here?

John: The woods are full of enemies.

So, unless you have a fleet of ships that can sail every man, woman, and child out of here, I think it's best that we save this town.

Isaac: Please forgive me.

While you work to save all our lives, I must see to one small but... precious life.

My men guard the door. No one will disturb you.

If anyone can save the people of this town, it's you two together.

Mary: Every one of us is needed now... as every one of us have played our role in this resistance.

Sebastian: What role was it that Captain Alden played?

Remind me.

Apart, that is, from siring the brat in the first place and then running away?

John: I can take out the Sentinel.

Mary: How?

John: Tituba gave me instructions.

Mary: Tituba?

When?

John: Does it matter?

Mary: I'm not sure. Maybe.

Go on.

John: Following her instructions...

I've forged a dagger that can k*ll a fallen angel.

Sebastian: Good work, blacksmith.

Why not hand it over to a swordsman.

John: What I need is help making sure he is someplace I can drag him into a dark alley and get the job done.

Cotton: I-I think I can do that.

I have a certain dialogue with the creature.

I believe I can draw him out.

Mary: Good.

I will seek out Tituba and inform her of the boy's destruction.

But even if Captain Alden succeeds, there still remains a great task.

John: Yes. Ridding Salem of every last witch.

Sebastian: This from the world's least effective witch hunter.

Who couldn't even find one in the bed beside him.

Mary: The Sentinel has made it clear that he has armed his instrument.

The Red Mercury is somewhere in Salem, all ready to do its work of destruction... with or without him.

Sebastian: I know where it is.

But I shall not be sharing that information just yet.

I'm aware of how most of you feel about me, and I would have some insurance that I am not fated to go the same way as the boy and his Sentinel.

No.

I intend to make myself a necessary part of your plans.

John: You selfish, sick, murdering bastard.

Sebastian: Ohh!

John: (groaning)

Mary: Whatever is between you... now is not the time.

We have a common goal to stop Black Sunday.

To save our future.

John: (groaning)

Sebastian: You're right.

We mustn't let petty jealousies get in the way of our goal.

Now I suggest we part.

To avoid arousing suspicion, we should leave singly... in case we're discovered.

Shall we?

Mary: Singly. Remember?

So as not to arouse suspicion.

Sentinel: (snoring)

Boy: You should close his mouth, or the flies will get in.

(snoring continues)

My brother cannot hold his liquor.

In our pure state, angels... fallen or otherwise... never sleep.

Even in my child's body, I did not so lower myself, but my brother is made of grosser stuff.

Do not trust him.

And do not trust Mary Sibley.

Anne: (panting)

Boy: Not if you value your life, Cotton Mather's life, and the life of your child to come.

Anne: What do you mean?

Boy: Only I can guarantee the safety of your would-be family.

You, Mather, the child... will live long lives of royalty and privilege in my kingdom.

All you must do is let me in.

Turn the handle.

Anne: But it is locked.

Boy: Not for you it isn't.

You're a witch.

I gave you power. Use it!

Cotton: Anne!

Stay away from that door at all costs.

Do not open it.

Anne: What makes you think I was going to?

Cotton: I have watched you standing there entranced these last few moments.

Anne: What is behind it?

Cotton: Hell.

The three of us may yet have a chance at a happy life.

We may be able to stop all this madness.

(sharply) Anne.

(birds chirping)

(indistinct talking)

Mary: I am no toy. Do not play with me.

John: I know why you did what you did... and I forgive you.

Mary: You forgive me?

You should be begging for my forgiveness.

John: Tell me you don't enjoy his touch.

Mary: I cannot command my body.

But my heart felt nothing.

It curdled inside me every time he... he touched me.

And I had to endure it.

And beg for more.

Why? For us, John.

Are you really as dense as he says you are?

The only reason I'm going to Tituba is to learn about the w*apon. She's a seer.

If she knows a way to stop this... this b*mb, then we won't need Sebastian, and I can cease this charade once and for all.

John: Even after he protected you in that house?

You don't feel any fondness or affection for him?

Mary: (sighs)

Not a drop.

John: Forgive my density.

That's all I needed to hear.

Mary: (sighs)

We are such fools in love, aren't we?

John: And I am the greatest fool of them all.

Mary: I must go.

(light whimpering)

Mercy: Your clever Mercy lured the waif out with the voice of her dear departed mother.

Hathorne: Nothing incites a mob to v*olence faster than a thr*at against a child.

Dorcas: (moans)

Hathorne: Shh! Quiet.

We are trying to restore your reputation, not blacken it.

Mercy: I didn't just do it for me.

Isaac's growing stature and real power in Knockers Hole represents the greatest thr*at to your hold on Salem.

Something had to be done.

You should be thanking me.

Hathorne: (scoffs)

Mercy: Don't walk away from me.

I've such grand plans for us.

(chuckles)

Hathorne: (sighs)

Dorcas: (muffled screaming)

(birds chirping)

Mary: Tituba. I do not have magic to open this door.

You must let me in.

The boy is dead.

But at the cost of all our sisters.

Tituba: The power of sacrifice. Well played.

Mary: Yes.

It is but a partial victory.

Tituba: You are tired.

Sit down.

I will do that for you.

Sit!

Mary: I thought you were no longer my servant.

Tituba: But I am your host.

Here.

Mary: Thank you.

(sighs)

You told John to k*ll the Sentinel. Armed him for it.

Tituba: I did.

Mary: Why not aim him at the boy?

I mean, they're both fallen angels.

What would k*ll one would surely k*ll the other.

Tituba: I am the seer.

I foresaw that you would handle that.

Mary: Your blind eyes...

They see so much.

Have you seen where they've hidden the w*apon?

Tituba: My eyes cannot be everywhere at once, but my cat will search the town for the w*apon.

Sentinel: (groans lightly)

Cotton: No.

Try Bishop... to C4.

Check.

Sentinel: (laughs)

Check!

I wish I could see his face at that!

Cotton: When's the last time you did?

Sentinel: What?

Cotton: See God's face.

Sentinel: When I was falling, I caught a glimpse of that great cloud raining down disappointment... upon me.

But it was ever so.

Cotton: I think I know what you mean.

I myself had a very disapproving father.

Sentinel: I've often wondered what it would have felt like to look him in the face as I k*lled Him.

Cotton: It would've felt awful.

Trust me. I should know.

Sentinel: You k*lled your father?

Cotton: Yes.

It felt like swallowing a stone.

One that would weigh inside me forever.

But it didn't.

Sentinel: You forgave yourself?

Cotton: No.

He forgave me.

Sentinel: My father is incapable of forgiveness... at least when it comes to my kind.

Cotton: With you I think it's possible to know everything, and yet understand nothing.

Sentinel: You're very bold today, Mather.

Cotton: Facing the end of the world as I know it seems to have that effect on me.

Sentinel: I never would have guessed that.

Cotton: What else might there be that you don't know about us?

Given that you're bringing about our imminent destruction, perhaps it would be wise to get a taste of the life that God bestowed on his... favorite creation.

Sentinel: Perhaps you're right.

I should know more about humanity, but truth be told, my head aches.

Cotton: That's called a hangover.

Sentinel: Mm.

Cotton: What you need is a hair of the hound that bit you.

Sentinel: No hound bit me, and I don't eat hounds or their hair.

Cotton: I know... it's an expression.

A metaphor.

See, another thing you don't understand about us is that we oftentimes say one thing to mean another.

We use nonsense to... to make sense.

Sentinel: You're right. I don't understand.

And you're making my headache worse.

Cotton: What I mean to say is, I know what you need.

Sentinel: Which is?

Cotton: More gin.

Sebastian: She'll never love me.

I've been such a fool.

Countess Marburg: There, there.

You have always been a fool, but my fool.

Are you at last ready?

Sebastian: For what?

Countess Marburg: To make her pay.

Sebastian: Yes.

No one has ever played with me like Mary Sibley.

And Mary Sibley must pay.

Countess Marburg: Oh, she will.

First, bring me the rest of her blood.

Boy: Let me in.

Anne: (gasps)

(breathing heavily)

Leave me alone. (panting)

Sentinel: Do they intend to rip each other's arms off?

It's an odd way to do battle.

Cotton: No... sometimes when we fight, it is merely play.

Sentinel: Play?

Cotton: Mm. Yes, play. For the sport of it.

Fun. The challenge.

Sentinel: To what end?

Cotton: To no end. That's what makes it play.

(men cheering)

(music continues)

Sentinel: That hurts me.

In the most delightful way.

Cotton: Music.

Plays the heart's strings.

Sentinel: Another one of your metaphors?

Cotton: Yes.

See... man is a metaphor.

Man is a mixed thing.

Man is part matter... (sets mug down)

Part spirit.

Part angel.

Part animal.

Sentinel: Mostly animal.

Cotton: Indeed.

Come.

(music continues)

(indistinct talking)

(whispering) Look.

Does their devotion not move you?

(indistinct praying)

Sentinel: You praise him because you fear him.

Cotton: Okay.

Sentinel: And...

Cotton: Sorry.

Sentinel: I know. We did, too!

Cotton: Good day, everyone!

Sentinel: We all did.

Cotton: Go.

Boy: Sebastian!

Put it down!

Put it down, you sniveling son of a whore!

(loud clattering)

(indistinct conversations)

Sentinel: We need more gin.

Cotton: Yes, and food, I think.

It will prevent hangovers. Ah. Oranges.

Sentinel: Mmm!

Cotton: Bread.

To soak up the gin.

Ah.

That's butter. The two go together.

Sentinel: More orange.

Orange man.

Man: That'll be two pence.

Sentinel: Mather has the money.

Man: Then Mather can have the orange.

Cotton: Hey! Sorry. Sorry.

I will buy the oranges. However many he wants.

(stammering) The basket.

Yes, I'll take a basket... of oranges.

Thank you. Go!

Sentinel: Oranges, I like.

We shall keep those in our Commonwealth.

Woman: Gin!

Sentinel: And the bread.

Woman: Bottles of gin!

Cotton: And the gin.

Sentinel: Yes. Gin... I like.

(indistinct shouting)

I like other things, too.

(slap) MERCY: Ahh.

Hathorne: You've been a bad girl.

(slap) MERCY: (moaning)

Harder. (slap)

(moans)

(slapping continues)

The high and mighty Cotton Mather is here.

Hathorne: Alone?

Sentinel: This need to copulate.

To thrive and spurt.

Even animals only rut in season.

This urge besets you night and day.

I just don't understand it.

(coins clinking)

Cotton: Let me enlighten you.

Mercy: Do you recognize him?

Hathorne: No, I don't.

Probably some foreign merchant.

Wealthy.

Mercy: I think, perhaps, a reverend is just what we need.

Cotton: Ladies.

(laughs)

(soft, seductive music plays)

(indistinct whispering)

Mercy Bird: (laughs)

Mm. Such broad shoulders.

And so tall.

(gasps)

I bet those arms could reach all the way up to heaven.

Come, darling.

Tell me what you like.

Sentinel: What I like?

I like oranges and gin.

Mercy Bird: (chuckles)

Cotton: No, no. No. I'm a happily married man.

(clears throat)

(women cooing)

(gasps)

Hathorne: Reverend!

What a welcome surprise to find you here.

Cotton: What are you doing here?

Hathorne: Looking for you, dear friend.

Please... you are needed.

A matter of spiritual urgency.

Isaac: Dorcas!

(indistinct conversations)

Dorcas!

Dorcas!

Man: I'm drunk.

Woman: Back for a short time, sir?

Or a long time?

Man: Sir.

Hathorne: Poor Mercy.

She was hardly the only victim of Mary Sibley's lust for power.

And I knew when I saw her sparkling like an unpolished diamond in this den of iniquity, that I had to free her from the cruel circumstances this heartless town had condemned her to.

(woman moaning)

Cotton: You are a good and godly man, Magistrate Hathorne.

Hathorne: I am.

Cotton: Surely love is where we find it.

Mercy: And we have indeed found it.

Or it found us.

Maybe?

Hathorne: (breathes deeply)

Mercy: Will you help us tonight, Reverend?

Cotton: I will try.

"Marriage... marriage is an honorable estate... and not to be entered into lightly...

Soberly, and in the fear of God."

Lovers...

Lovers may be lunatics.

And lovers may be beyond the reach of reason... and law.

And true lovers... true lovers do not desire only love.

They desire... (sighs) they desire marriage.

Hathorne: Hm.

Cotton: For if their love is the truest and... and noblest love conceivable, then those lovers are only relieved by... by both being happy slaves... to one another.

Sentinel: (moaning loudly)

(both moaning)

Sentinel: (moaning softly)

Cotton: You may now kiss the bride.

(cheers and applause)

Sentinel: Do you have any oranges?

Hathorne: We are married.

Mercy: (giggles)

(happy chatter)

(indistinct talking)

(man laughs)

(drunken laughter and indistinct talking)

(thunder crashes)

Sentinel: (laughs)

An assassin.

Have you any idea who I am?

John: I know exactly who you are.

Sentinel: (groans)

Your dagger.

I am betrayed!

(both grunting)

John: (groans)

Sentinel: Only my brother could have told you how to forge such a w*apon!

John: (coughs) It wasn't your brother.

Sentinel: Then it was one of his agents.

But I have no intention of dying.

(yells)

Aah!

(sizzling)

(both screaming)

(gasping)

I would have liked one... more orange.

Sebastian: I've brought the rest of Mary Sibley's blood, just as you asked.

Countess Marburg: (sighing)

Now it begins.

Mary: (groans)

(ticking)

(ticking intensifies)