King, The (2019)

[bunniefuu]

Where go you, my friend?

You're crawling in the wrong direction.

That wind you feel is coming from England.

Scotland's that way.

My lords.

I'm most sorry for making you wait.

I know you've traveled far

and from great travail.

I pray you will know

that this time of civil unrest...

consumes me...

day and night.

I understand...

battle with the rebel Scots

was hard fought.

It was, my liege.

We lost some 300 men.

- Amen.

- Amen.

Good Hotspur...

you led the charge.

Were any prisoners of note taken?

Many.

- Are they in train?

- No.

And why is that? Why have they not been

brought to me directly?

Why will you not pay

cousin Mortimer's ransom?

You'll need to speak up, my boy.

I'm an old man.

My ears...

are filled with hair.

Cousin Mortimer is held

by the rebels of Wales.

Why do you refuse to pay his ransom?

I refuse to pay Mortimer's ransom

because I refuse

to believe him a prisoner.

I rather believe Mortimer a traitor.

He has joined the Welsh rebels.

He has betrayed England

and is now an enemy of mine,

and, therefore, of yours.

You agree with my prcis, young Hotspur?

- No.

- My son...

I believe yours to be the ramblings

of a crazy old demon.

Harry, please, stop this.

Oh, no, let him speak.

- I wish to hear him.

- My liege...

Yours are the ramblings of an old man

so saturated with malice and mistrust

that he no longer knows up from down,

can no longer see beyond the walls

of his own monstrous schloss.

My family have served you.

We aided you in your ascension,

and still we fight for you.

Cousin Mortimer has fought for you.

And yet, now, whilst you slobber

over that chicken's wing,

he shivers in a western prison

awaiting mutilation

at the hands of Welsh witches.

My liege...

you must excuse my son.

He needs rest.

We come only...

to advocate for your help

in securing Mortimer's release.

All that we've done for you

we have done for the good of England.

But our lands are now

more riven with w*r than ever before.

The Scots aren't finished.

The Welsh have only just begun.

And for what?

Why do you think this might be, old man?

Who do you imagine

might be to blame for this?

Chickens can't fly.

But I've seen one...

eke enough wing flap to clear a fence.

Then it's free.

But then so too are the foxes.

You are right, young Percy.

I owe you much.

I owe your family still more.

But if the Scottish traitors

you've taken prisoner

are not brought to me

as speedily as they might travel,

I will hang you by your f*cking neck.

Has this been heard, young Percy?

Your Majesty, please forgive us.

What a venomous boy.

He'll betray me now. I'm sure of it.

If only he were my son.

Hal.

Mm.

Hal?

Hal.

What is it?

Falstaff has injured hisself.

Yeah. See?

- How did you get inside?

- The door was ajar.

It was not.

Yes, it was. It was ajar.

It was not ajar.

Well, how else might we gain entry?

Are you accusing me

of having cut myself a secret key?

Yes.

Falstaff has injured hisself, Hal.

Will you perform the small repairs?

No.

Oh, no.

Your Highness.

There's a fresh coin

in this for you, you know.

I don't want your coin.

I will require your undiminished loyalty

from here till Megiddo.

You have that already.

You're a soft negotiator.

Hey! You're wasting good wine.

- I'm keeping it clean.

- Give it.

Oh. That looks very hot.

Do it.

Ow!

Prince Henry.

Who are you?

We come from the royal court.

We wish to speak with you privately.

For what?

Please, sire. Privately.

Oh, privately, in the middle of Eastcheap?

Should I make a quick up and down

and request a mass covering of ears?

Please, sire.

What is this?

Your father, His Majesty King...

Your father,

His Majesty King Henry, is ill.

He requests your presence.

Hmm. I suggest you return

to the palace directly

and tell him his request

was wholly ignored.

I've been instructed

to deliver the request with great urgency.

You might tell him the urgency

was also wholly ignored.

My lady.

My lady, it's time to leave.

Why?

The day has begun. See?

Out there.

It is well underway.

You might miss it.

Get up now. It's important that you leave.

Up. That's the spirit.

Right.

Now, lift your arms.

Very good.

You must get that door fixed.

What is it?

Visit with your father.

Go away.

If your father is indeed

gravely ill enough

to request your presence,

then you must visit with him.

It should be better to regret

having done so than it would to have not.

If your father is ill,

no matter your feelings for him,

you must visit with him.

But...

I say this not out of concern

for our king's well-being,

but more for fear of the drunken soak

to which you'll be likely to succumb

should you fail to heed his call

and he were to die

without you having squared your ledger.

I fear that would be soak enough

to put even me to shame.

Do it.

If nothing else I ever suggest.

While I see the strain

your treasury is under,

I cannot help but wonder

if the canker of Lollardy

be at the root of this suggestion

that the church be burdened with a tax

to relieve problems

that are not of the church's making.

Your Majesty.

Henry, Prince of Wales.

My son.

Come in.

I feel my life nearing its natural end,

and yet, still...

even I must appear

of ruder health than you.

The time has come for us to consider...

the issue of...

my succession.

You will not be king.

While you are my eldest son,

for reasons that are on display

for all here to see,

smell...

you will not inherit this crown.

Nor have I sought it.

That privilege and responsibility

will instead fall to your brother Thomas.

He is soft, but he is eager.

He will lead my army

against the newly treasonous Harry Percy.

I will assume that this news comes

as neither surprise nor disappointment.

But it is my duty as king,

and father...

to say it to you directly.

When do you fight?

I set off tomorrow.

We fight by week's end.

You need not fight.

These feuds need not be yours.

I have said...

what you were summonsed to hear.

Leave us now.

- Your Highness.

- Stop.

- Your Highness.

- Stop.

Move it!

Lord Dorset.

Are your men ready for the day?

They are, sire.

Very good.

Tell me of your preparations.

My lord.

Why are you here?

I will not allow this havoc to transpire.

I've come to see it stopped.

This is my battle.

If I have my way, there will be no battle.

You. Come here.

- My lord.

- You have no place here.

Go to the rebel camp,

deliver the following message

to Percy Hotspur.

Tell him that Prince Henry challenges him

to settle today's score man on man.

He and I.

We will fight in our armies' places.

Yes, my lord.

Who do you think you are?

I am nobody to you.

I will fight him.

And I will defeat him.

That you surely would, my son.

But it cannot be.

The prince speaks not for his father.

You are eager to fight, my son.

And you will.

And we shall fight alongside you.

We will burn them.

We will burn Henry's reign to the ground.

- You have no place here.

- You do not know w*r, Thomas.

- I do know w*r.

- You do not.

You've been recruited

to our father's madness,

to wars that need not be fought.

These men are not our enemies.

- Our father has made them thus.

- Why then are you here?

You so disapprove of our cause,

and yet, still, you find it necessary

to upstage me.

I do this not to steal your thunder,

brother.

I do it to save your life.

Pardon me, my lords.

Our herald is returned

from the rebel camp.

They have refused Prince Henry's offer.

They want battle.

Whoa, whoa.

Ha!

Ha! Go!

Where is Henry?

I come to fight him in our armies' stead.

No.

His offer was refused.

The offer has been reconsidered.

I said...

no!

Why is the little dog barking?

Hm?

Where be the big dog?

It will be done.

And here I am with the whoring fool.

This fight need not be had, Percy.

My father will soon be dead.

Your grievances will die with him.

Don't be afraid of our small contest,

young Hal.

I promise to finish it quickly.

Come on.

Your father...

is plague to England.

Come for me, big dog!

No!

Oh! Oh!

Hmm.

Someday this will be your head,

dropped at the feet of a man

who might otherwise

have been your brother.

Come with me now, Thomas, please.

Walk away from this field.

After you have stolen its prized scalp?

This is what will be spoken of tomorrow.

This field was mine.

It was to mark my dominion.

Instead now...

it marks only this head.

This f*cking head!

Move.

John.

John.

Go away.

You might want to see

to your otherwise well-appointed friend.

He seems to have taken a pitiful turn.

Beale.

Hal's up-chucked again.

Hello, friend.

Many times have I seen men in your state.

I've been in it many times over myself.

For all our rejoice of...

courage and valor,

nothing stains the soul more indelibly

than k*lling.

Never have I felt so vile...

than standing victorious on a b*ttlefield.

The thrill of victory fades quickly.

What lingers long after...

is always ugly.

Never again, I say.

Stop talking, old man, please.

Please stop talking.

I will never stop talking, Hal.

Never.

Never ever.

Out.

My lord.

What business?

It is a matter of great urgency.

Mm. You should hurry along then.

Please, my lord.

It is your father.

He's dying.

Hmm, that hook has lost its worm.

Wait outside.

No doubt...

your father has brought...

much trouble to this kingdom,

and I fear the chaos

that might erupt in his absence.

England needs a king,

and I suspect those sentiments of yours

that had you resile from him

are precisely those

the governance of this land needs.

You must be king.

Why do you say this to me?

Speak to Thomas.

Is he not to be your new king?

I'm afraid that is not possible.

Your brother was k*lled in Wales.

After your defeat of Percy Hotspur,

young Thomas pressed on

to the western fields.

This is where he met his end.

It is said he gave

valiant account of himself.

Where is he?!

Where is the monster?!

Where is the monster?

Move. Leave him.

The King needs rest.

- Soon he will have it.

- He's dying.

Leave.

You feel this cold?

Wretch.

Hal.

Hal.

You must be king, Hal.

Please.

You must be king, Hal.

I know not what I have done.

You know not what will become of you.

So, I offer you this...

The most blessed reprieve,

the most dreadful misery.

You shall suffer the indignity

of serving me,

the wayward son you so revile.

But know now you will be watched over

by an altogether different king.

What is this?

Who are you?

I am I.

Who are you?

What is your purpose here?

I think you just woke me up from it,

didn't you?

Rise from that bed at once.

Who are you?

Where is Hal?

These lodgings and their contents

are the property of the King of England.

You are trespassing

and I order you to vacate at once.

What King of England?

Amen.

All hail King Henry.

King Henry!

King Henry!

King Henry!

King Wenceslaus of Bohemia

presents this gift

to King Henry of England.

To long and good health.

Beautiful.

I'm sure you all know...

my young sister Philippa

has joined us here today.

Queen of Denmark.

I'm thankful she and her husband,

the good King Eric,

have traveled all this way.

I wish for you take this vase, my dear.

Let its beauty stand for your beauty,

which stands in turn for England's beauty.

I thank you, my lord.

His Serenity,

the doge of the Republic of Venice,

present this gift in your honor, my liege.

- It says it is a bird from Constantinople.

- A bird?

A dead one, I should suppose.

If I may, my liege.

Unnatural mechanics

from the edge of Christendom.

Hmm.

A wonder.

This belongs to my cousin, Cambridge.

Of all at this table,

none have I known longer than I have you.

Indeed I have known you longer

than I have my own young sister.

We were raised together.

You're like an older brother to me.

So, I think it only fitting

that you should have this magical bird.

Let's hope its magic

isn't black and unholy.

From the Dauphin,

son of His Majesty, Charles,

King of France.

A ball.

There is no accompanying message

from the Dauphin?

No, my liege.

I shall keep this gift.

This one is sent only for me.

For the boy I once was.

The ball is an insult to you

and to your kingdom.

You must respond.

Remember where, as prince, I whiled

and how I spent my days?

You spent them

in considered privation.

Drinking, clowning.

So, is there not some truth in this jest?

If the Dauphin wants from me a paroxysm,

why give it him?

It would not be a show of foul temper

for you to respond forcefully

to an insult such as that.

It would be a show of strength.

I appreciate your umbrage, William,

but my strength does not lie

in me flapping up and down

at the slightest barb like...

- some unholy mechanical bird.

- Mm.

Make sense of this.

This is what is pressing.

Civil strife has consumed us.

The w*r drains the purse like little else.

This strife must end.

And it will end...

by conciliation.

We shall pardon our adversaries.

And we shall pay Mortimer's ransom

and have him returned from Wales.

I will write these pardons

in mine own hand.

I want it known these sentiments

are so personal to me.

We shall let these men know

they were my father's enemies, not mine.

Certainly, my liege.

How does this strategy greet you?

Great reforms are best enacted

with regime change.

If this is how you wish to proceed,

then, yes, my liege,

now is the time to do it.

Did you reconcile with our father

before his death?

There was no reconciliation to be had.

He did untold harm to this kingdom.

His death will bring calm with it.

I ask not after the kingdom.

What of you?

I want an end to this unrest.

Look around that table last night.

Look at the faces

of the men seated at it.

I can feel this calm of which you speak.

I do believe they wish you well.

But I also see that they have

their own kingdoms behind their eyes.

Do you understand what I say?

I've been away too many years

and I'm now to return to Denmark.

But I have, in my time in that court,

been privy to its commissions.

I have seen there, again and again,

that no one ever speaks true,

wholly true.

Choose your steps wisely,

dear brother.

I speak

to Charles of France's claim

to be the legitimate sovereign ruler

of said lands.

It is said that the Salic law

would have no succession

if the French crown fall to a woman.

Meaning, no rule

left in the lineage of the female

shall, by rights, pass to her issue.

Now, the law Salic,

which is of Frankish land

and tethered to said lands is not...

not therefore legally bound

or adherent at all, in fact,

to the lands of France,

but to those of Francia,

which, as you know,

lies between the rivers of Elbe and Saale.

I claim here, with proof,

that hence it follows that the law Salic,

which has seen French sovereignty stolen

as such from a true lineage...

Thrice, as I can illuminate,

the French have cited the law Salic

- as reason to bar a female succession...

- With reverence.

Yes, my liege?

I'm finding this story

impossible to follow.

My liege, I question

the so-called French king's claim

to the throne upon which he sits.

Is that so?

What confuses me now

is why you are telling me this story.

My liege, I simply aim to bolster

your claim to France

should the need to meet her with force

soon arise.

And you believe that need

will indeed soon arise?

I...

My liege...

by way of preparedness,

- I believe it always wise...

- Preparedness?

If we are to w*r with France,

it will not come as a consequence

of an old and impenetrable madrigal.

France was your father's

long-held ambition.

Had he not been bogged in civil feud,

he would most surely

have taken the fight to her.

And then...

on to Jerusalem.

Jerusalem?

We're all the way to the Holy Land,

are we?

And presumably to sack

the rest of Christendom along the way.

I am not my father, archbishop.

I would have thought this

to be clear by now.

We must forgive our archbishop.

He is a far...

far from gifted orator.

Which is strange,

given I would have thought gifted oratory

to be a requirement of the position.

Why is the archbishop speaking to me

of w*r with France?

What we are witnessing is a stirring,

of which we must be wary.

I applaud...

your restraint.

After so many years of strife,

you are proving to be more

than your father's son.

You wish to be a king for the people.

Now, we must ensure to that end, however,

you do not remain oblivious to the mood

of the people.

And what mood is this?

That France is taunting us.

Do you share this mood?

Well...

this mood is a fantasy.

But that does not mean

it is not felt true.

- Where are you going?

- Disgusting.

- No, we can't be going to Hooper's.

- Yes, we can.

- No, she won't have you.

- Yes, she will.

- Nope!

- Yes.

- No.

- Yes!

You're not welcome here.

Unless you've come to pay me

what you owe me.

I have paid you.

You've paid me a snatch of what you owe.

And I presume, too,

from the proceeds of thieving.

Lies.

By all account, you be not specially good

at thieving neither.

Lies.

How dare you address me so?

Why would you be so churlish

with the very man most likely to lift you

from your stinking rat hole?

Oh, maybe you've forgot.

My associations now stretch

to the highest reaches of the realm.

Your insolence might as well be directed

to the king himself.

Ponder that now.

Are you speaking of Hal?

Ah.

Where is he?

Where is Hal?

Oh.

Where's our king?

He be gone weeks and weeks now.

Where is he?

I would say...

you be the one that's been forgot.

- Oh.

- I would say that your dalliance

with the upper reaches of the realm

was short-lived

in and around his stinking sick bucket.

Seems you were little more

than passing keeper of a prince's puke.

Shut up.

Ponder that now.

Nell, Sir John is down on his luck.

I am not.

You find someone to pay your way here.

I'll not be paying it for you.

Head.

Head.

Who are you?

He seeks asylum in return for his tale.

I do not doubt this can be arranged.

Can it or not?

You are the King, no?

It can be arranged.

I have been sent by the King of France

to assassinate you.

Charles himself sent you?

You know this to be certain?

The order's origin I know, yes.

From the King.

What was the order?

That I should k*ll the King of England.

How?

However. Any way.

There are many ways to k*ll a man.

It is my talent...

k*lling men

who do not expect to be k*lled.

At such a time as I endeavor

to foster a fresh and peaceful air

for this kingdom to breathe,

it is not in my interest to stir hostility

with another.

This is an act of w*r.

We share your longing for peace,

my liege,

but to ignore

such an audacious act of aggression

will be seen as weakness.

This is no game ball. This is an assassin.

Would you consider me weak, Chief Justice?

No.

No, I speak more of the kingdom.

What the kingdom sees.

What the kingdom sees. Mm.

How, pray, might the kingdom

see the weasel beneath our feet?

If France's animus towards you

runs deep enough for them

to send an assassin,

it will be felt in the street,

ours and theirs.

It will be known.

We share your concerns.

But peace today needs more than harmony.

It needs strength...

and confidence.

These are qualities

that can originate only in you,

the king.

Our king.

Take down these words...

addressed to King Charles of France.

This assassin you send

can be taken as nothing other

than an infant act of w*r.

If this be your intention,

I say you let it be known plainly

and that you desist

from this timorous slither

in which you presently engage.

If it be w*r you seek,

send the full weight of your army.

For a lone, cowardly assassin

will not topple

this King Henry the Fifth of England

you so underestimate.

Fill this with gunstones

and send it back to France.

Go get the master.

- Who is it?

- A Frenchman, sire.

He says he wishes

to speak with you privately.

About what?

He wouldn't say, sire.

I asked of him, he wouldn't say.

My king has sent me to seek out men

he feels he can trust.

He believes there is

discreet discussion to be had.

What discussion?

He believes there is discussion to be had

about your new king of England.

Only myself and Lord Grey

were met.

We knew not where to turn

about what was spoken to us.

We're all of us aware

there's a standing problem.

Our king is of low repute.

The French king...

teaches you this?

Is he not thankful

for our young Henry's light reaction

to his provocation?

The assassin he swears he knows not of.

'Tis a charge he denies.

His plot came to naught.

Of course he would wish

to wipe his hands of it.

Whatever the root,

they have expressed grave concern

regarding our king's mental fortitude.

This envoy is to be trusted, is he not,

Cambridge?

I believe so.

Charles wishes to dethrone our king.

The issue is not France.

This is but a reminder to us

of a more general lunacy.

A boy who but weeks ago

was a drunken boor

from the sewers of Eastcheap

now wears England's crown.

- Hmm.

- What shall become of us?

What shall become of us

when civil misdeeds are forgiven

as if they were but indiscretions?

- When traitors...

- Yes, yes, Lord Grey, your...

Your concerns are current.

And they are numerous.

Something must be done.

Something will be done.

Give me quiet.

Thus is a king's burden.

A king must make decisions

lesser men are...

neither willing nor able to make.

A king is indeed presented with quandaries

lesser men might never encounter

in the course of their whole lives.

I wish it were not so.

But problems...

And this is my experience.

Problems that are left unattended...

have a habit of becoming crises.

You have a chance here

to unite the land, Hal.

Truly.

You have refreshed its mood with promise.

But promise must be fulfilled.

Promise can never be an end in itself.

As of this day, we're at w*r with France.

Twice I have given her

the benefit of my doubt.

This third affront

will not be left unchecked.

And so, in order to flush

these French rats from their nests,

I will have it communicated to them

that we are now at w*r.

My Lord Grey.

Cambridge.

I would ask you to deliver this message

to France, given your...

familiarity with its recipient.

But I believe in the morning

you be otherwise engaged.

Pray how, my liege?

Tomorrow you will have your heads cut off.

No.

I have chosen to send you

as an advance party to Hell

for the considerable French number

that will soon be needing

to find space there.

You were once my friend.

I am your friend...

cousin.

All leave.

Now.

You.

Stay.

You...

leave.

This is my place.

The hostess can stay.

I will not jump to your attention.

And surely not to retread

vile ground

I vowed never to walk again.

I acknowledge my neglect of you, John.

A new chapter of my life has begun

before the last could be properly closed.

These concerns are mine and mine alone.

But the fact that this here

be the first occasion

I've had to sound them aloud

to anyone other than myself

speaks volumes.

It speaks to the loneliness

of the position in which I find myself.

To steer our present course,

I've been forced

to rely upon the counsel of men

whose loyalty I question

every waking moment.

Every waking moment.

I need men around me I can trust.

I'm here because you are my friend.

A king has no friends.

A king has only...

followers...

and foe.

I'm sorry my occasion to visit...

carries with it this doleful weight.

Hal.

I will come with you.

I ask only one favor in return.

Square my account

with that terrible hag...

over there. Would you?

We welcome

those newly arrived here.

Turn us now in common poise,

with one mind, sharpened.

Together...

we will bring France down.

Together...

we will bring her to her knees.

Captains all, to this end,

I wish to introduce to you

a new marshal of our campaign.

Sir John Falstaff.

Sir John's experience in battle

should need no recitation.

You know of him.

Some of you have had the honor

of fighting alongside him.

Others have heard tale of his exploits.

But I have tasked Sir John

to join this campaign

for one most vital reason alone:

he respects w*r

as only a man who has seen

its most monstrous form can.

He lusts after it not,

but rather regards it

with the grim sobriety

that you and your men

should hope he would.

Welcome,

and thank you...

good sirs.

You're all well met.

Very good.

Bonsoir.

Are you ready for what awaits us?

One is never ready for what awaits us.

Get!

You believe Sir John there

to be fit and suitable enough

to captain this effort?

John is a good man.

They meet us at sea

or upon landing.

We shall know soon enough.

You must rest.

John.

Thank you.

What for?

For being here.

With me.

Well, it's a small price to pay

to keep that detestable Hooper woman

off me back.

Get some rest too, my liege.

We land quickly!

Check every building.

No man!

Watch.

- No man here!

- Clear!

- No man here.

- No man.

Go on. Faster.

Light.

Pull!

Pull!

We must storm that castle.

It will be bloody.

We will most surely sacrifice souls.

Thus is the nature of w*r.

It is bloody and soulless.

We have no way of knowing

how well supplied they are

behind those walls.

This siege may take months,

and months, I fear,

we have not at our disposal.

Men in these numbers, fixed here,

will fall to hunger and disease.

Sir John.

w*r is...

bloody and soulless.

Yes.

The archbishop has arrived.

Surely you cannot

simply idle here

until they decide to come out?

That is precisely the definition

of a siege.

How long might that take?

Surely there's no way of knowing.

Uh, that too,

is a common characteristic of a siege.

- I will not send my men up that hill.

- But why in heavens not?

I will not sacrifice my men so flagrantly,

nor so speculatively.

Well, then why do you not

simply go around?

If they insist on hiding in their castle,

why do you not simply go around it?

So well versed in the art of warfare.

We must take this town,

Archbishop.

We must establish

a garrison foothold here...

for our lines of supply from England.

Do not forget

that I have underwritten this campaign.

I have interest here.

And I will be heard.

Not today, Archbishop.

My liege.

They have surrendered.

- Our debate now, it seems, is for nothing.

- Hmm.

As are the archbishop's bleatings.

The day is yours.

We ask only

that our women and children be freed.

Many are hungry and wounded

and becoming sick.

Upon full account of the castle,

I see no reason to deny your request.

You will have tonight

to oversee this evacuation

and to corral your men prisoners.

Come.

He wishes to slow us.

Who wishes to slow us?

We have received word

that the Dauphin is en route.

He wishes conference with His Majesty.

And we know nothing of his purpose?

We know only that he desires conference.

I would hope his purpose be

to deliver his father's early surrender.

I strongly advise

we disregard this word of his approach

and ready our movement.

We must make advantage of their disarray.

Sir John, your counsel.

I've never met the man...

this French prince.

I can't speak to his motivation.

My liege.

He's here.

Your Majesty.

Ah!

To...

your little...

victory.

Ah.

Do you wonder why

I have come?

Hmm?

Do you wonder this?

I have not come to offer you surrender

if that is what you are hoping.

I have come to describe for you

your end days,

the screams of your men

as they die slow.

And so, King of, uh, England,

you seem so intent

on making France your new home,

so let me help you.

I will drain your body of its blood

and bury it under a tree.

A little French tree.

Very young,

very small.

Since perchance that is fitting

of your mind for you to come here.

Small.

And maybe your...

I mean, no, your balls must be big, no?

Giant balls.

Giant balls...

with a tiny cock.

And the sound

of your wives and children weeping

shall lull me to sleep at night.

Have you heard what I said?

I have.

It was stirring.

Sir John, please walk with me.

Good night.

Ready the men to move.

Waste no time.

Run!

Hush, hush, hush.

Hush.

Hush.

Hello, little boy.

Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid.

I want you to deliver a gift to your king.

Will you do this for me?

Good boy.

No!

Double the guards to 20 yards

through the night.

Three hours at a watch.

I want these men fresh and alert.

Any man caught sleeping

will have his eyes gouged.

Any caught speaking will lose his tongue.

And I want all French prisoners

in our train put to death.

Leave their corpses speared on pikes

by the river's edge.

The first command I'll heed.

The second...

you'll have to carry out

that mass execution yourself.

What did you say to me?

You are not that man.

How dare you defy me?

Show your feeling in here, with me.

- Don't let it outside this tent.

- How dare you defy me? I am the king.

And where is

the fearsome old warrior Falstaff

about whom I've heard so much?

You've been mute since we crossed the sea.

I seem to be serving

as my own chief tactician,

my own commander, my own counsel.

Where is

the fearsome old warrior Falstaff?!

I speak only

when there's something to be said.

Too often have I seen men of w*r

invent work for themselves,

work that leads to nothing

but vainglory and slaughtered men.

I'm not that man.

And this here is the w*r

that you have chosen to wage.

I will disembowel you right here

with mine own hand.

You are not that man, either.

Evening, M'Lord.

- Gentlemen.

- M'Lord.

Lord Dorset,

summon your fastest rider.

My liege.

Dartmouth!

Sires. What can I do for you?

Tell me what lies over that hill.

Ride fast, return directly.

Hyah!

We are both outnumbered

and out-positioned.

They have the downslope in their favor.

Our need to advance

puts us already at disadvantage.

The longer we wait,

the larger their force will grow,

and with it, our disadvantage.

Your archers, my lord,

are of superior faculty.

French crossbow is no match

for an English longbow.

We should hobble their number

on first as*ault by these means alone.

York's charge in center

faces four lines of mounted knights.

Our archers here

might weaken those by half. But...

But not eight lines.

Nine. Ten. More.

You speak true, my liege.

The longer we wait,

the greater our disadvantage.

But it is possible our disadvantage

has already grown insurmountable.

A great many men

are already desperately ill

and weak from hunger.

What then, my lord,

do you propose we do?

I propose we consider turning back,

my liege.

I know it will not bring

the outcome we desire,

but nor will the evisceration of our army.

I'm reticent to speak for others here now,

but I'm certain my fears are shared.

Who here agrees with Lord Dorset?

You can win this battle.

Is that so, Sir John?

Yes.

And precisely how is that so, Sir John?

You fight without horses

and without armor.

Heavens above,

please spare us from this man.

Their forward defense

is a front line of mounted men.

Many deep.

Knights all.

All on horseback,

all with heavy armor.

The ground out there...

is a flood bowl,

already half-sodden.

When it rains tonight, as I know it will,

that ground will turn into a muddy bog.

And with their horses and their armor,

they will get stuck,

they will fall,

and they will flounder

like upturned beetles.

As shall we.

Not if we travel light,

without horses and without armor.

Speed and mobility will be our advantage.

And how, Sir John,

can you be so sure of rainfall tonight?

My right knee is aching.

It only does that when rain is near.

Oh, save us, my liege.

Please put a stop to this drivel.

This would require their armored

front line come meet us in the mud.

How do you propose we invite that?

A small forward armored att*ck of our own.

A false advance.

They will counter.

We save our weight and our muscle

for a nimble as*ault from the flanks.

They shan't be so easily deceived.

They will not respond to false att*ck.

Hmm.

They will respond.

We move, they will meet us in the mud.

Our men-at-arms are outnumbered.

This they know.

They will hope to overwhelm us,

so they will meet us with full force,

no matter how small our first advance.

Our great longbows

will rain chaos on them from above.

That chaos will be your favor.

My liege, I implore you, we mustn't...

we mustn't listen to this madness.

What is the true experience of this man?

He once fought for Richard many years ago.

Since then, he has done nothing...

other than ride with the companies,

robbing and tormenting.

I never robbed anyone

who didn't deserve to be robbed.

If it rains tonight,

we fight tomorrow.

If you have concocted this plan,

half-baked and speculative,

merely to prove to me your worth,

please say so now.

All plans are speculative.

And as I say,

I only speak them when I feel them true.

This one I feel in my bones.

This one I feel in my knee bone.

Here we are on the eve of this fight,

and I am...

I am scared to wonder,

to tell it true,

why we are here.

You best discover the answer for that.

The men out there deserve it.

They've given their lives to you.

I cannot say what forces

have conspired to bring you here,

but these men need you,

just as you need them.

These men deserve your confidence.

And if you cannot give them that,

at least then tell them a magnificent lie.

Though you might not think it possible...

you are my friend.

Good night, Hal.

Sleep well.

This wind whips from the north.

The rain was sent from England.

Why are you being fitted with plate?

We were to fight without armor.

We need a front line to draw them in.

It cannot be you.

The idea was mine.

Some man must lead the first push

to sell it well.

My men have been assembled.

And I cannot, in good conscience,

send them out there

to realize my speculative drivel

without getting muddy alongside them,

can I?

I will fight with you.

It's noble,

but you know that cannot be.

This is what I was built for.

I die here or...

I die over a bottle in Eastcheap.

And I think this makes

for a much better story.

And you have things still to do.

You will join this fight.

But promise me you don't join too early.

It doesn't matter what you see out there.

We must first draw them all in.

All of them.

Promise me that, Hal.

Win, my friend.

Maybe then you'll lighten enough

to have a drink with me. Hmm?

Where is the Dauphin?

I humbly thank you for receiving me,

noble lord.

Please.

Please speak English.

I enjoy to speak English.

It is simple...

and ugly.

I have been waiting all morning,

all the night...

for your surrender.

It might have saved a great unease

had it come sooner.

I know you do not speak for your father.

I do speak for my father.

I know you do not speak for your father,

so I come to you now directly.

I have not come to surrender.

Too much Christian blood

will be spilled on this field today.

So, I propose this:

You and I fight, one man on one man.

We fight in our armies' stead.

If I lose, my men will leave this place

forthwith and forever.

You will have my head.

If I win,

I will assume this kingdom's crown

upon your father's death.

What say you?

Are you scared, young Henry?

What say you?

Are you scared of this battle?

There is no shame of it.

Save your men.

You save your own men.

You came here.

To me!

Surrender to me!

I cannot do that.

Well, then, boy,

let us make famous...

that field out there.

This little village of Agincourt,

that will forever mark the site

of your callow disgrace.

You expect of me a speech?

I have only one to give,

and it is the same one I'd give

were we not standing

on the brim of a b*ttlefield.

It is the same one I'd give

were we to meet in the street by chance.

I have only ever hoped for one thing...

to see this kingdom united

under this English crown.

All men are born to die. We know it.

We carry it with us always.

If your day be today, so be it.

Mine will be tomorrow.

Or mine today and yours tomorrow.

It matters not.

What matters is that you know,

in your hearts,

that today you are that kingdom united.

You are England.

Each and every one of you. England is you.

And it is the space between you.

Fight not for yourselves,

fight for that space.

Fill that space.

Make it tissue.

Make it mass.

Make it impenetrable.

Make it yours!

Make it England!

Make it England!

Great men to it. Captains, lords.

Great men to it!

For the King and St. George!

For the King and St. George!

Les imbciles.

Archers.

Archers!

Archers!

Archers! Now!

Draw!

Loose!

Halt!

Ready!

Loose!

On me!

Come then...

King of England.

Hail the King.

Hail the King.

Hail the King.

My liege.

- God save the King.

- Hail the King.

Hail the King.

Hail the King.

- Hail the King.

- Hail King Henry.

Hail the King.

My liege.

The prisoners we have took are a rabble.

I fear we will not secure them

should their army regroup.

k*ll them all.

Your Majesty...

Henry, King of England.

Hmm.

Your Majesty...

Come sit here with me.

Please.

I like to have the sun on my skin,

but not too much.

Too much is very dangerous.

This conversation we are about to have...

has been had many times before,

and will be had many times again

for centuries to come

between men of vanity

and men of good reason.

I would hope that you and I

are men of good reason.

I have, of course, traveled here

to offer you my surrender.

Do you ask anything of me in return?

No.

I do, however,

have for you a proposition.

You take the hand of my daughter,

Catherine,

in marriage.

It is most uncanny...

that the great movements of history

so frequently find their origins

in the minutia of family.

That in ways I dare not unsettle here,

my relationship with my son

and yours...

with your father.

These are the things

that have led us here today.

We are leaders of lands

and peoples,

and yet...

it is family that moves us.

Family...

consumes us.

My condolences to you...

for the loss of your friend, Sir John.

I know you must feel this loss deeply.

Thank you, William.

Your loyalty to me has been comforting.

You have proven yourself

to be a most worthy king.

I would say you have proven yourself

to be one of England's great kings.

Your Majesty,

the crowd has gathered.

So I hear.

Leave us.

Please sit, Your Majesty.

You are beautiful.

Merci.

I will no longer speak French.

We must speak English.

I cannot speak English.

You will learn.

I wonder, then,

how our union might proceed

in the meantime.

There is much I wonder

about a great many things.

Indeed there must be for you

to contemplate marriage

to a woman about whom...

you know so little.

Hmm.

I will not submit to you.

You must earn my respect.

I understand that.

Do you?

I do.

Do you feel a sense of achievement?

In what regard?

In any regard.

I have achieved that

which my father never could.

I have united this kingdom

in common cause.

Hmm.

You have achieved momentary respite.

A unity forged under false pretense

will never be a unity that prevails.

How, pray, have my endeavors

been forged falsely?

Why did you bring w*r to France?

Your father came on spoiling.

How so? How was he spoiling?

He sent an assassin.

There was no assassin.

There was no plot to k*ll you.

How might you know?

Because I was with my father

when he received word of your charge.

I know him well enough

to know his reaction to be genuine.

How was his reaction?

He laughed.

He laughed very much.

He said you must be drunk.

Your father is a madman.

He may be mad, but he is true.

His madness makes him true.

He says only what he believes.

That is why he is loved.

The assassin then

was sent by your brother.

- My brother?

- Mm-hmm.

My brother was too stupid

to conjure such a plan.

What was your true reason?

Did you know of the ball he sent?

The ball he sent to me?

A ball?

He sent to you...

- a ball?

- Why should you question my intent?

Your father's rule is illegitimate.

He has no right claim to his throne.

All monarchy is illegitimate.

You yourself are the son of a usurper.

It would seem that you have no explanation

for what you have done.

You have shed the blood

of so many Christian souls, and yet...

before me now, all I see is a...

young and vain and foolish man

so easily riled.

So easily beguiled.

I must leave you now.

Gentle.

Ah.

We must be sure to revel in this day,

my friend.

A crowd has gathered

in honor of our victory.

These are the rare moments

for which a king truly lives,

I would imagine.

In all my preoccupation, I have...

neglected to ask after your family.

Oh.

Your preoccupations are hardly trifling.

You have two sons.

I do.

And...

your wife minds your estate

in your absence.

She does.

Yours is sheep.

You're a man of wool.

As was my father before me.

How many head?

At last count, some 4,000.

Mostly Dorset Horns.

How much land have you?

Oh.

To be true, I'm not...

wholly certain, but...

but many...

many hundreds

of beautiful, beautiful acres.

What lands in France have you now annexed?

Stop.

Hmm?

Now that France is ours,

how much of her land is now yours?

Oh, well...

That has yet to be determined.

Your conquest is so recent.

- Why do you ask this question...

- Stay up there.

- Hmm?

- Stay up there.

Oh.

How did my assassin come to you?

I fail to remember the moment.

Remedy this failure.

So much has happened

in the intervening months.

An event as pivotal as this one

should be amply equipped

to penetrate the fog of time elapsed.

No?

Of course.

Let me recall.

Was it in the street?

Did he come to you in the street?

Yes. Yes, it was in the street.

He approached me...

most unusually.

My liege, please, tell me

the cause of this concern.

Stay up there.

Stay up there.

Did he know your name?

I don't believe he did.

How, then, did he know

who you were to approach?

Ah.

The memory is returning.

He surrendered himself to palace guards

and the matter

was brought to my attention.

I was taken to him.

So, he did not come to you in the street.

No. No, it was not in the street.

Forgive me.

I was summoned to his cell.

Has a problem arisen...

Hal?

Yes.

A problem has arisen.

And it wobbles before me now

on its silly little stool

- at mine own elevation.

- I'm afraid I don't understand.

- Please, please, stop this charade.

- Sincerely, I do not understand.

Stop the f*cking charade!

Stop it!

I have given you

what you wanted, boy!

Have I not?!

Mm.

Mm.

You wanted peace.

Did you not?!

This is how peace is forged.

It is forged in victory.

Listen.

That is the sound of peace.

That is the sound of your peace.

That is the sound of your greatness.

Hmm?

- My liege.

- My liege.

My liege.

I ask nothing of you...

only that you will always

speak to me clear and true.

Always.

Will you promise me only that?

Long live the King!

- Long live the King!

- I will.

Long live the King!

Long live the King!

Long live the King!

King Henry!

King Henry!

King Henry!

King Henry!

King Henry!

King Henry!

King Henry!

King Henry!

King Henry!