01x15 - Wentworth Prison

Episode transcripts for the TV show "Outlander". Aired August 2014 - current.*

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Follows the story of Claire Randall, a married combat nurse from 1945 who is mysteriously swept back in time to 1743, where she is immediately thrown into an unknown world where her life is threatened. When she is forced to marry Jamie Fraser, a chivalrous and romantic young Scottish warrior, a passionate relationship is ignited that tears Claire's heart between two vastly different men in two irreconcilable lives.
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01x15 - Wentworth Prison

Post by bunniefuu »

Claire: Previously...

I can draw up a petition of complaint, accusing Randall of crimes against the Scottish people.

If you can convince the Duke of Sandringham to deliver that document, it could lead to a court-martial for Black Jack.

It's quite simple. Make free of your body, and there will be no second flogging.

I couldn't do it.

Are we raiding the Chisholms today?

And I could do with a tall, strong Scotsman.

I'll ride with you.

Where is Jamie?

Macquarrie was wounded.

Jamie wouldn't leave him behind.

Claire: I knew full well if I had any hope of finding Jamie, I'd need help.

I've news of Jamie.

He's in Wentworth Prison, condemned to hang.

We have to hurry.

I'll no force, any of my men to go to their deaths, but I'll no stand in the way of any that choose to go.

♪ Sing me a song ♪
♪ Of a lass that is gone ♪
♪ Say, could that lass ♪
♪ Be I? ♪
♪ Merry of soul ♪
♪ She sailed on a day ♪
♪ Over the sea ♪
♪ To skye ♪
♪ Billow and breeze ♪
♪ Islands and seas ♪
♪ Mountains of rain ♪
♪ And sun ♪
♪ All that was good ♪
♪ All that was fair ♪
♪ All that was me ♪
♪ Is gone ♪
♪ Sing me a song ♪
♪ Of a lass that is gone ♪
♪ Say, could that lass ♪
♪ Be I? ♪
♪ Merry of soul ♪
♪ She sailed on a day ♪
♪ Over the sea ♪
♪ To skye ♪

Outlander S01E15
"Wentworth Prison"

(cr*ck)

(Grunts)

Macquarrie: I have to look on the bright side, Fraser.

(Man groans)

Macquarrie: Nothing like being hung to make your tossel stand up solid as an oak.

Jamie: Seems it's a little late to be brandishing iron, does it not?

Macquarrie: Ah, takes the edge off of dying, knowing that when my neck snaps, I'll be discharging my juice like a cannon blast.

Jamie: I heard tell, all that happens is ye sh*t yerself.

Well, so much for me trying to cheer up a condemned man.

Ye've got an awful dark view of the world, Fraser.

Lachlan Fife.

(Rope creaks)

(Crow squawks)

Jamie: When they come to get ye, I'll wrap my chain around their necks.

And grab his musket.

They'll sh**t us down like dogs.

Not dogs. Men.

Is it the rope ye're afraid of?

No.

What grieves me is to think my wife will never forgive me for foolishly getting myself hung.

Aye. Nothing like a wife to make a man feel disquieted at his own death.

For me, I always knew I was fated to dangle from the end of a rope, so I made sure to leave none behind to mourn for me.

(Grunts)

(Choking)

Truth be told, I'm no looking forward to it much, meself.

_

_

Lieutenant: Taran Macquarrie.

I'm no gonna let these bastards see it.

I've got one regret, Fraser.

What would that be, Mr. Macquarrie?

Well that I'll be climbing those steps before you.

Other way around, you could've put in a good word for me with St. Peter.

To think my last view of the world will be a bunch of ill-faured, pasty-faced Englishmen.

My only regret is that I wasted my life as a common thief, rather than a patriot serving my country fighting against you lot.

To the devil with england and God bless King...

(Choking)

James Fraser.

(Choking and straining)

(Yells)

(Grunts in pain)

(Macquarrie coughs)

Ah!

(Choking)

(Grunting)

(Hoofbeats approaching)

Randall: Stop!

Stop the executions!

Whispering: I'm on the King's business.

Take that man down and put him in a cell...

Remove the rope!

Prison Officer: Escort the prisoner to one of the dungeon cells.

Lieutenant: Rory McNeil.

Jailor: You must suffer from dodgy eyesight, mate.

That wall is solid stone.

In 20 years, you might get that bolt loose.

'Cept you ain't got 20 years.

Compliments of Captain Jonathan Randall, esquire.

Must be good to have a friend of means.

If you're smart, you'll eat a hearty meal, have a wash, and your luck can change at any minute, boyo.

Sir Fletcher: Fraser, James.

And you say you know the prisoner?

Yes, that's right.

Close relation?

Not particularly.

A family connection. I hardly know the man, really.

I should think not.

An Englishwoman of fine breeding and a common Scottish criminal.

Ah. Here we are.

It appears he's been granted a temporary stay of execution.

At least for a little while. Stroke of luck, I suppose.

When was the last time you were in contact with this, um, individual?

Many years.

Old as the connection may be, I felt it a kind gesture to come visit.

My Christian duty.

I'm sure you can understand.

I could tell you're a Christian woman the moment you entered.

May I see him, Sir Fletcher?

I should like nothing better than to help you, Mrs. Beauchamp.

Unfortunately, I cannot allow it.

If something were to happen, I would never forgive myself.

I understand your position, Sir Fletcher, I do, but this man comes from good people.

How sad that a young man in this situation would be estranged from his family.

If he wished to write a letter to them, of reconciliation, I would be pleased to deliver it to his mother.

You are thoughtfulness itself, my dear.

One moment, madam.

(Takes a shaky breath)

I don't believe a letter directly from the convict would be appropriate.

However, this may give the family solace.

The prisoner's personal effects.

Customarily, we send them on to whomever the prisoner designates as a next of kin, after execution.

Perhaps you could take it to them.

I'd be happy to.

Well then, I believe the Lord will smile upon you for this good deed.

(Gasping)

(Vomits)

Up you get, lass.

Up you get.

(Grunts)

(Dice rattling)

Ooh...

(All laughing)

(All laughing)

Bastard!

Five in a row!

Man: Come on.

You rigging this?

It's me now.

Put yer money in.

(Indistinct chatter)

(Dice shaking in cup)

(All laughing)

Angus: Aye, you've got the luck of the devil, you bastard!

I have two coins left!

Would you listen to those two donkeys?

Jamie's facing a neck stretching and all they care about is rolling double sixes.

I didn't realize Jamie's fate meant so little to them.

Don't despair, mistress.

The boys here prised you out of Fort William, right under Black Jack Randall's very nose.

And that was no easy task.

Easier than this.

A fort is only there to keep people out.

A prison is there to keep people in.

And what of it?

I was only stating a fact, mistress.

Cheers.

All: Cheers.

Murtagh: The next round is on the two of you.

And the one after that.

Rupert: Think again.

We're skint.

(Both giggle)

Ye seem awfully cheery about it.

Angus: Well, it's who we lost to that has us grinning.

They need to know.

By all means, tell them.

What, me? No, I think it should be you.

You lost more.

Aye, but you...

Aye, but you kept ordering more ale.

Kept their throats well lubricated, you did.

Ahh.

Sober up and speak yer piece.

Oh, ho.

While you three were sitting here looking glum, we were losing our coin to two...

Not one... but two.

Whispers: Wentworth jailers.

(Giggling)

(Jingles coins in bag)

(Jingles other bag)

(Both giggling)

(Door closes)

Those men work at the prison?

What did you learn? Anything useful?

Aye, I believe so.

The warden...

What's his name?

Sir Fletcher.

The very man.

Aye.

He insists on having his evening meal in private.

After which, he reads his Bible.

Every day. 25 minutes of quiet reflection.

Introspection.

Self-examination.

And?

(Speaking Gaelic)

The man's away from his office for a full hour.

Go on.

Isn't that enough? Hmm?

Yes.

I believe it is.

(Jamie)

(Struggling noises)

(Yells)

(Panting)

(Yells)

"Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil is rightwise King born of all britain."

(Snaps)

I wondered when ye'd show yerself.

Expected ye to come alone.

Randall: Marley?

Not much in the way of intellect.

But impressively brutal, when given the opportunity.

I apologize for the prison Commissary, but I see you managed well enough.

Good for you.

So...

You couldn't keep out of prison long enough to hear if your pardon had been granted or not.

Your petition of complaint against me?

Surely you haven't forgotten.

You recognize this?

'Course you do.

I'm afraid that the Duke of Sandringham likes to talk.

Especially when he drinks. Certain mutual acquaintances passed his words along to me, and...

Well...

We spoke.

Certainly is a most extraordinary document, a...

Well, a complete blackening of my character.

If presented to the Court of Sessions, I would wager they would find in your favor, and...

Well...

I'd hate to think what would happen to me.

Might be me up on that gibbet, instead of you.

Here to see Sir Fletcher, he's expecting us.

Redcoat: Right this way, ma'am.

Sir Fletcher didn't mention naught to me about having you back here.

Nor about any letter to pass along.

Are you implying that Sir Fletcher lied to me about Mr. Fraser being allowed to write a letter to his family?

Didn't say anything about lying.

Then perhaps you should ask him yourself.

Sir Fletcher is indisposed, at present.

Must I remind ye, ye're speaking to a lady?

Begging your pardon, madam. It's not often quality such as yourself visits this muck heap.

Until Sir Fletcher returns, you can wait here.

But don't go wandering, ain't a safe place for the fairer sex.

Your concern for my welfare is duly noted.

Perhaps you'd like to wait with me?

I suspect you've been on your feet for most of your shift.

Would you like to take a seat?

(Clears throat)

You trying to get me discharged? I've got my duties to perform.

Of course. My apologies.

Be at ease.

I promise I shan't leave this room.

And besides, I have my manservant here to protect me, should I be in need of such.

And who's gonna protect him?

(Chuckles)

You're a bold lass, asking him to stay.

I was afraid if I didn't, he might come up with it himself.

We have to find keys and a map to this godforsaken place.

May I call you Jamie?

I care not.

But if ye're expecting me to beg for my life, you'll be sorely disappointed.

Randall: No, that would be a waste of both our time.

I am unable to save you now, even if I wished to.

Our time together here... is but a momentary reprieve.

Jamie: Well, dinna bother.

I prefer the noose to yer company.

Is that true?

Why? Do I make you uncomfortable?

Do I haunt your dreams since Fort William?

When you awaken in the middle of the night, shaken and sweating, is it my face you see looming in the darkness?

Tell me.

When you lie upon your wife, and her hands trace the scars on your back...

Do you ever think of me...

And soften?

What is it you want from me, Randall?

I want you to admit the truth to yourself.

And what would that be?

That you escaped Fort William, but you did not escape me.

Surrender this... this pride that you hide behind and admit that even now, you're terrified.

Whispers: Admit it.

Admit that one simple thing, and I will give you something in return.

A final gift.

A gift?

The noose, 'tis such an ignoble ending. Give me what I ask and I will give you the death that you deserve. Clean, honorable, and of your own choosing. You could have a Roman death. You could fall on your sword like Brutus. Or maybe a Greek demise. Socrates took hemlock.

No...

Perhaps you do not want to see my face at the end. I understand. I can simply slit your throat from behind. It's messy, but... The choice is yours.

How will I ever choose?

But choose you must.

Randall: First, you must give me your surrender. And make no mistake, I will have your surrender before you leave this world.
Claire, we've looked all over. There's no map.

Well, what good are keys if we don't know where he's being held?

Lass, we don't have the time!

I just need a few more minutes!

Head jailor: Thought I'd check in on you, Mrs. Beauchamp, make sure you're...

(Yells in pain)

(Grunts)

Tie him up and hide him somewhere.

With a bit of luck I'll be able to find Jamie before the alarm is sounded.

Wait for me, I'll come with you.

No.

If I get caught, I can say that...

You quarreled with the jailor and I fled for help.

Well, what will I tell them at the gate?

Tell them that I sent you out to get a gift for Sir Fletcher.

Remember, you work for an English woman of noble birth.

And you remember, ye've got less than an hour before Sir Fletcher returns.

Murtagh: Meet me in the woods behind the prison.

We'll be waiting for you.

Good luck to you, too, lass.

(Indistinct chatter)

(Indistinct talking)

(Coughing)

Jamie?

Man: Who's there?

Are you there?

I'll be yer Jamie, lass.

Come and get me.

(All laughing)

Man: Let us out, lass.

Man: Wait, come back.

Jamie?

(Prisoners coughing)

Jamie!

Does anyone know where I would find Jamie Fraser?

Of Broch Tuarach.

Not in here. Try down below.

That's where they keep those of us that hanging's too good for.

Thank you.

Jamie: All right.

I won't surrender.

To you, or any man.

I have to admit.

There is a part of me that would be crestfallen if you did.

You know that every man can be broken.

It's... truly nothing to be ashamed of.

Will you show me your back?

If it'll stop yer talking.

Hmm.

May I?

You're the broken one.

Ye're the one that sees my face every night.

(Both yelling)

Aah!

Aah!

Aah!

(Giggling)

(Yells)

(Coughs)

(Laughs)

(Coughing)

(Gasps for air)

Idiot.

You could've k*lled him.

Get him up.

Do it, dog! Get him up.

(Both groaning)

(Groaning)

I'd truly hoped to spare you the noose.

Hold his wrist.

Hold his wrist!

Argh!

Randall: I would lay it flat, if I were you.

(Screams)

(Screams)

(Scream echoes)

(Scream echoes again)

(Blood curdling scream)

(Crying out in pain)

Why do you force me to treat you in such an abominable way?

Why do you choose to spend the few hours left to you as a miserable cr*pple?

Why do you force me to hurt you?

Hmm?

You're better than this.

Wake up. Look at me.

Look at me.

There.

There you are.

Mm-hmm.

Yes...

(Growling)

Yes, yes!

Hey, shh, hey.

Yes.

Can you feel that?

Jamie: No... k*ll you... Ah...

Can you feel that? Shh, shh, shh, shh.

It's all right.

Ah!

Could take you right now.

No.

I will not give in to coarse passion.

(Yells)

If you'd only stop resisting me, I could make this so much easier for you.

I'm here to help you. Don't fight me.

Jamie?

Jamie!

Claire, how did you...

You must leave.

Randall will be coming back soon.

Randall is here?

My God...

What has he done to you?

(Speaking Gaelic)

But you must leave.

No. Not without you.

Talk to me, Jamie.

Wake up!

Jamie.

You must stay awake.

We're going to walk out of here together.

Stay with me.

Randall: You truly have a gift for showing up at the most unexpected times.

You beast.

You can do better than that.

You f*cking sadistic piece of sh*t!

(Yelling)

I should have slit your throat when you were laying unconscious at Fort William.

Yes.

I'm afraid you will come to regret that small act of humanity.

(Yells)

You're no coward.

I will grant you that.

A fit match for your husband, and I cannot give you a better compliment than that.

The sweat of exertion.

Bravo.

Redcoat: This way. This door's open.

How dare you interrupt me while I'm conducting an interrogation?

Begging your pardon, Captain, but we have reason to believe that earlier today, that woman there was involved in an escape attempt.

Randall: Well, now you found her. Congratulations.

But since that is the prisoner she had hoped to free, you can see the... the search can now be called off.

Please, you must take me to Sir Fletcher.

He needs to be made aware of what's going on in here.

Claire: Please.

Will the captain allow us to take the woman into custody?

No. No, he will not.

This woman is involved in a rebel plot against his majesty.

God save the King.

(Both) God save the King!

You tell your commander I have the situation well in hand.

Yes, sir.

Now get. Out.

Search her for weapons.

Randall: Do myself, I'm not in the mood for c**t today.

But I imagine Marley here would like to entertain you, privately in his quarters.

You wouldn't prefer to watch?

I may have what are called "unnatural" tastes, but I do have some aesthetic principles.

Hmm.

You are a very lovely woman, shrewish tongue not withstanding.

Do I want to see you with Marley?

No.

I don't think I do want to watch that.

Right, wake up. Your presence is required.

(Grunts)

(Gurgling)

Oh, Christ.

(Choking)

Are you watching?

Stop!

Make me a better offer.

Have me.

Let her go in safety and you can have me.

I won't struggle. You... you can do what you wish.

Jamie, no.

You have my word.

So... it becomes a matter of trust.

Your word for mine.

Aye.

Will you allow me a brief test of your sincerity?

Don't!

Your hand. Lay it upon the table.

No, the ruined one.

Claire: No!

Don't do it!

Silence her, or I will.

Claire, please.

(Grunting in pain)

Claire: No, no!

Claire, no! No, shh.

Shh...

Shh, shh.

(Screaming in pain)

I haven't even begun.

(Screaming in pain)

Now kiss me.

(Jamie grunting in resistance)

Take her away.

We will remember this moment for the rest of our lives.

Take her away.

Claire: No.

No, no!

I beg you, let me say good-bye!

I can't leave you!

Yes, you will. Do as I say.

I love you...

(Speaking Gaelic).

I shall return shortly.

Walk.

I recently heard an extraordinary rumor about you.

There was a trial held at Cranesmuir.

You were accused of being a witch.

Yes.

Witch I am.

And I curse you.

I curse you with knowledge, Jack Randall.

I give you the hour of your death.

Jonathan Wolverton Randall.

Born September 3rd, 1705.

Dies...

(Whispers inaudibly)

(Grunts)

(Panicked breathing)

She's away safe?

Yes. You have my word.

Randall: It's a masterpiece.

How does it feel, to be alive, yet wear so much dead flesh?

Shall we begin?

Murtagh!

Willie!

Murtagh!

Anybody?

(Wolves howl in the distance)

(Twig snaps)

(Gasps)

You shut your gob, woman.

Ye wanna bring the redcoats down on us?

We have to go back for him.

MacRannoch: Pitch dark, and those idlers still haven't returned.

Murtagh: Claire Fraser, this is sir Marcus MacRannoch, a loyal friend to our clan.

This is his home we're sheltering in.

Thank you.

We could use a loyal friend right now.

Tell me, how many men can you muster?

To rescue yer husband from Wentworth Prison?

Tonight if possible.

Or tomorrow morning at the very latest.

None.

For it means risking the redcoats coming around afterwards, and leveling Eldridge House to the ground.

No lass, I'm sorry.

Temporary shelter I can offer ye, but I'll no put my family or myself in jeopardy.

I can pay you.

I wouldn't ask your men to risk their lives for nothing.

Angus: A half dozen or so would give us a fighting chance.

A dozen would give us an even better chance.

Where did you get these, woman?

Fraser, ye say your name was?

That's right.

My husband gave them to me on our wedding night, they're yours, if you'll help us.

Did he indeed?

Ellen's son?

Your husband is Ellen MacKenzie's son?

Murtagh: Aye, and ye'd Ken it if ye saw him.

He's the spit of her.

I gave these to Ellen MacKenzie, as a wedding gift.

I've thought of them so often around her bonny neck.

I wonder if she ever thought of me while wearing them.

So, they're yours now.

You wear them in good health.

I'd stand a better chance of doing that if you'd help me get my husband back.

Ah, I see.

But what I canna see is how it can be done.

I have a wife and three bairns asleep upstairs.

I must look to their protection.

Aye, I would do a bit for Ellen's lad.

But it's a bit much you ask.

Well, that just leaves the five of us.

It'll have to do.

Claire: I know how to get us inside.

I left a door open at the rear of the prison.

An open door is nay a plan, lass.

Anyone?

It gives me no pleasure to say such...

Absalom!

Man!

MacRannoch: I sent you out at daybreak, to bring in 40 head of cattle!

What have you been up to all that time?

Searching!

All bloody day!

(Sniffs)

MacRannoch: Well, ye sure as shite didna go thirsty.

How many did ye bring in?

Absalom: 19.

MacRannoch: 19.

19 out of 40?

MacRannoch: What are ye, blind, man? Is yer nose not working?

19 cattle...

That's no small number.

MacRannoch: And what the hell is so funny about 21 missing cattle?

I know how we can save young Jamie.
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