01x05 - Piss Profit - Proffidwyr Troeth

Episode transcripts for the TV show "The Bαstαrd Executioner". Aired September - November 2015.
"The Bαstαrd Executioner" tells the story of an early 14th century warrior knight in King Edward The Third's charge who is broken by the ravages of w*r and vows to lay down his sword, but when that v*olence finds him again, he is forced to pick up the bloodiest sword of all.
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01x05 - Piss Profit - Proffidwyr Troeth

Post by bunniefuu »

Previously, on The Bastard Executioner...

At this very moment, our king is deciding the fate of Ventrishire.

But I must ask that you allow me to give counsel before making decisions that could lead to deep regret.

The baron always gave me his ear.

I am not my husband.

Where's the baroness?

Regretfully, on her way to Windsor.

She's the one who pleaded for this visit.

As you know, when His Majesty calls, all... must answer. She left but yesterday.


Piers Gaveston.

Trusted advisor to His Majesty, King Edward the Second.

The king has requested that you join him for his midday meal.

He is most eager to discuss the future of Ventrishire.

The rule is in the hands of a frivolous king.

There are only... two things that would trump such a decision... an heir of Ventris...

Or marriage to an appointed noble.

You are quite aware that I'm already married?

I am told that the Lady Trula's consumption grows.

You are indeed bold.

This wasn't wolves.

Soldier: You have been placed in custody of the court to determine guilt.

Guilt of what?


No, please!

Please, no! No!


(grunting in pain)


Ventrishire will be divided into thirds, two territories going to the neighboring shires...

The coastal area with a castle will fall to my authority.

Please, keep the gown as our gift for your... loyalty and patience.

I'm afraid the gown will soon be of no use, nor will the decree of division.

I am with heir.

This needs washing in private, away from my other vestures.

Yes, Baroness.

Is there anything else in need of washing, my lady?


The linens are unstained.

I know I've put a heavy burden on you, dear Isabel.

I'm afraid that nearly two weeks of thought has given me no better sense of how to carry out my deception.

Perhaps it's not a deception at all, Love.

You carry the proof in your basket.

Proof of but a single day?

Every fertile field needs a serving of more than one seed to bear a good harvest.

Are you suggesting that I open my... fertile field to seed sowing?

As you know, my lady, to offer advice is above my status.


A hardened rule you would never break.

Isabel... thank you.

I am, and will always be, in your service, Lady Love.


Your morning meal, Chamberlain.

On the table.

Taking to your new duties?

Yes, sir.

Very well, thank you.



I am learning much.


And, um...

You are in my debt.

Yes, in debt.

Thank you, Chamberlain.

(indistinct conversations)

Crush this mixture into powder.

Stir in the egg of the red starling.

You must lay the paste thin over the scabs.

And who is this gentle soul?

Luca: Luca Maddox, good woman.

Sweet calamus.

Thank you.

(indistinct, overlapping conversations)

Wait here.

Is it not a risk, selling your remedies here?

Your physicker requested I come.

He was weary of getting lost in the Black Oaks.

And I suppose your hooded protector might scare away good trade.


He waits in the coves.

And your brothers... how are they?

As any man would be, trapped in a hole, lock-kneed for 12 days.

Your oils ease their pain.

Helps them drift to some comfort.

And you?

How is your pain?

It seems no prayer gives me relief from the horror that plays out here.

I wish I could give you a remedy for your struggles, Wilkin, but you know in your heart...

I know nothing in my heart anymore.

Jessamy: What is that thing?

This one... this one has a crippled heart from so many dreadful memories.


She's not tried to hurt the boy or herself but that one time.

Use gentle caution, Wilkin.

Her angry ghosts push her close to madness.

♪ born with a heart ♪
♪ that could ache more than b*at ♪
♪ the mind of a k*ller ♪
♪ the soul of the meek ♪
♪ flock with no shepherd ♪
♪ is a vulnerable game ♪
♪ I can live without a hearth ♪
♪ without love ♪
♪ but I do need a name ♪
♪ father, do you burn ♪
♪ if your hand is in f*re? ♪
♪ does your head spin with rage ♪
♪ when fooled by the liars? ♪
♪ king of the kings ♪
♪ do you feel any pain? ♪
♪ do you feel any pain? ♪

(bell tolling in distance)

Drink in haste, brothers.

I'll deliver more if I have time.

I hear someone coming.

(door creaks open)

The hour brings the change of guard.

Allows us a few minutes to speak openly.

Go be young somewhere else, boy.


What matter begs sending away the innocent?

One that concerns us all.

I am in need of your skill and confidence.

We've learned that when you speak of serving the many, it's only you that reaps the bounty.

Corbett: The fate of Ventrishire hangs by a French thread.

Baron Pryce senses our weakness.

He woos the king's favor in the hope that Edward will grant him the land that was once his.

Toran: And what skill of ours can halt this noble boot-licking?

His Majesty has a passion for religious relics.

Pryce possesses an ancient Bible or scroll... some rare holy thing salvaged from a cave off the Nile.

It travels to Windsor today.

The baron's gift of devotion to our swayable king.

And you want us to seize the relic.

Make it a gift to you.

Not seize it.

Destroy it.

The risk of possession is too great.

Bring down the guards, set the wagon afire, burn the Bible and all the other... boot-lickings inside.

Wilkin: k*lling soldiers and destruction of noble goods is no lesser risk.

The blame will fall with the rebels and the thieves.

Pryce will not have suspicion if there are but charred remnants that leave no clues.

Toran: And we're tradesman.

We've no reason to risk death and blasphemy.

I would hope protecting Ventrishire and the rule of our... baroness would be reason enough.

But... if you need greater cause...

To comfort m*rder with provisions is a breach of law.

You must have some concerns for their welfare to risk serving your own time in the coffin.

They are not m*rder.

I decide what they are.

You deliver the pain of that decision.

These men were found down trail of the body and unwilling to give true name.

That weighs the scale with guilt.

Wilkin: But if we burn your Bible, you'll offer a different fate.

They will be released from their coffin traps and their sentences reduced to servitude.

sl*ve of the court.

They will work off their crime.


Then let them wither in their holes until we find another of greater guilt.

We will do your harsh deed.

Leave within the hour.

Wait for Pryce's caravan off the pond trail to the south of Heaven's Eye.

And what of the prisoners?

I will draft the bondage letters to Lady Love, and she will sign them.

Complete your task and they will see the morning sun.

Your man grows more disturbed with each new day.

Be mindful that he does not become a complication.

You should be mindful as well, Chamberlain.

Since the baron's death, you've guzzled this new power like sweet mead.

Men never make sound choices while drunk.

(chuckles softly)

(door creaks, closes)

(townsfolk chattering in distance)

May I get you anything else, my lady?

Baroness, anything else?

Yes, Isabel, I may need you to fetch me a second meal.

Perhaps a third.

It appears that I need to expand my girth with due haste.


I hate the Welsh.

Lord Gaveston.

It is a profound honor to welcome you to our castle.

Milus Corbett, Chamberlain of Ventrishire.

Thank you, Chamberlain.

Hm. Is the baroness within?

Yes, she makes her way to greet you.

May I ask why we have the privilege of such an esteemed visitor?



You radiate with even more beauty in your beloved Wales.

(chuckles) Sir Gaveston.

A pleasure to see you again.

I have missed your words of sincere adoration.

You travel with such a humble retinue.

Are you here for... sport and game?


That is the secret to my happiness, my lady.

Everything I do is sport and game.

I was just about to tell your handsome chamberlain... (chuckles) that I journey to perform one of my most cherished duties.

The declaration of heirs.

Sir Gwynfor is our Progeny Prophet and Uroscoper.

Once he has, uh, acquired the proof that you carry the child of Lord Ventris, the king will declare, if it be a male child, he will be given all the rights to rule this shire.


Thank you, Sir Gaveston.

We will let you settle and refresh.

Isabel will show you to our guest chamber.

Ah, charmant.


Sir Corbett.

I am sorry that I did not share this news with you sooner, dear Milus.

But I only became certain of my good fortune while on the trail to Windsor.

And of course, as the earl has said, I could not declare the joyous news until His Majesty has his proof.

The happiness I feel for your news, heals any wounding of my pride, Baroness.


I understand the testing by this piss prophet can be quite a... disquieting thing.

Allow me to be of help in any way that best serves you.

Thank you, Chamberlain.

It seems that you have stirred the imagination of our French visitor.

Is that bad, Chamberlain?

Not at all.

Sir Gaveston.


Your devotion serves you.

Our Savior blesses you in so many ways.

A keen mind, beauty...


...a stature that remains so lithe and petite even while...

When is it that you expect this gift of an heir?

Not until the colder months.

It was the blessing of a union hours before Erik's death.

As if God Himself had filled your womb.


Well, I will give you time alone.

I am sure you are in need of your own devotion.

I could understand your disregard for English rule.

But to boldly deceive in the eyes of God.

Well... it is more than your noble status that is in peril, my lady.

I have deep concern for your eternal salvation.

Renounce this... charade presently, and you will suffer no penalty of false words.

It will be as if those lies never poured from your tiny mouth.


Let us hope God will take pity.

For when you are found to be a fraud, the king will have your breasts cleaved off, your barren womb severed, and your head taken by sword.

And the honorable and most exiled Earl of Cornwall will be left with my pieces and my land.

(quiet scoff)

Sir Gwynfor will need today to prepare his examination.

Your first piss of morning will land in his pot.


Wilkin: This appears to be the best vantage point.

Toran: Yea.

You seem to be growing familiar... with the fair nobles of Ventrishire.

Our baroness.

Lady Love tries to reason a man with pious devotion and the skill to off a man's head.

As do I.

What about our chamberlain?

Are we to become his puppets now, taking all dirty tasks beneath his noble knights?

Corbett's abuse of power will have a hard end when the king decides the fate of the shire.

We are planted on tender earth here, brother.

The weight of secrets will sink us, and everything we've loved will be d*ad and buried.

Yea, wit.

We must be true.

(women moan sensually)

What brings this... (women gasp) horrid display of bacchanal to my chambers?

We're deeply sorry, sir.

It seems our good chamberlain sent us here.


With the task of finding out what your need is with this shire.

He wishes that you loosen my tongue?


With ours.

(everyone laughs)

My girls.

Clear the trail, stranger!

Are you mad or just dull-witted?

(others laugh)

(horse whinnies)

Hyah! Hyah!

(man screams)

Dirty deed complete.

(woman coughs, screams)

Woman: Lord Christ! O, Savior!


(man screams, coughs)

(woman shrieks)

Woman (screams): Oh, the pain!

(Wilkin and Toran grunting with effort)

Toran: Wilk, no!
He's long d*ad.

"To my most pious and beautiful, Trula. I hope these prayers bring you as much peace and joy as your love brings me. Your devoted husband, Edwin."

Lady Pryce.

It was her physicker's wagon.

Punisher! You have returned.


Mon liege!

(laughs) Now we are true.

This is who we are, Wilkin Brattle.

You knew she was in that wagon.

You don't make those kind of mistakes.

I did what was required.

As did you.

We all share the burden to protect the shire.

Man: Over there!

Corbett: Hold, hold!

Maddox and I were engaged in a friendly demonstration of defense.

I was sharing some grappling skills we plied on the Scottish battlefields.

Go. Go.

Yes, sir.

(speaking French)

Clara: Corbie.

Good Chamberlain.


You're hurt.

It's no matter.

We have news to raise your spirit.


We took to this Gaveston our most, um...

Wetted slots.

It was of no interest to the Frenchman.

You, however, most handsome Chamberlain, were the only temptation he uttered.



I suppose that would have been an obvious turn.

He inquired of wives and lovers.

Laid very heavy a point that he would be in his chamber after supper.


I see.

Thank you, lovelies.

My lady.

Master Gawain.

Seems we are both in need of a peaceful setting.

Seems you've had a hard day as well.

The slip of a tool while mending the grate on the coffin traps.

I hear the chamberlain has decided to free the prisoners within them, put the men in servitude.

Those prisoners are still in that horrid hole?

Yes, my lady.

I will see that the letters are drafted in haste, so I may release them.

Thank you.

A punisher who concerns himself with the welfare of those he punishes.

It is no wonder I often find you in troubled thought.


There was a healer at the market earlier.

I should see if she has some balm I might put on these scrapes.


Is it your healer?

The one that renewed your vow.

Yea, the same woman.

This woman has knowledge of nature and its course with humors.

Yes, it would be one of her gifts.

Are you in need of... remedy, Baroness?

I am in need of a... different kind of wisdom.

She is most different.

Now you are the one lost in troubled thought.



Do you ever feel like you're living the life of another?

That God intended you to be someone else?

Not greater or of more prestige, but... truer.

Forgive me.

I'm afraid this day has rubbed me raw of manners.

It is a day full of harsh rubbings.

I will arrange a meet with this healer.

Thank you.

The rank of field marshal is a most prestigious ascension for a-a poor village boy from... uh, where did you--?


Ah... yes.

And yes, a rise well-earned.

But as is the way of the world, with veins that flow with not a drop of royal blood, my head is at the rafters of said ascension.


We have much in common, you and I, Milus.

We take to the same sport.

Indeed, Piers.

I feel as if we have been acquainted for many a year.



Your, uh, baroness... if you do not mind me speaking of her?


We have-- oui-dire-- heard, uh, stories, yes?

That she was struck with a barren womb.

Stories change their truth as they travel.

Do they?

(chuckles) A man as clever and resourceful as yourself, I am certain you know all things above and below these castle stones.

You flatter like a highly polished courtesan, dear Earl.

Tell me.

Why Ventrishire?

I would think your influence with His Majesty would earn you a far more desirable appointment.

And yet, you take such effort to secure our humble slice of moss.

Forcing the decree of division.

Traveling all this way to find the proof of Erik's heir.

It makes one wonder if you are looking for a place to hide.


Ah, yes, well... like you, sweet Milus, I was forced to stir the hive to get the honey.

And now the bees, they come to sting.

And what faces are on the other end of those stingers?


Marcher Barons?

It's a weakness, I admit.

But... my tongue... seems to loosen... when my cock rests... in a handsome mouth.

It seems we share the gift of forwardness as well.


It will be much more pleasurable if you are on your knees.


Did you honestly think I would let dirt-born lips touch a rod that knows only the holes of beautiful things?


Sortez, huh?

I am sure there is a shit scraper in need of a suckling.


Good evening.

Do you require anything before you go to bed?


Is there something wrong, my lady?

This is foolish.

I am sorry, Master Gawain.

This venture.

My behavior.

This is not who I am.

Perhaps it's that other life.

The one you believe God intended?

Trying to find its way and have a word with you.


Talk to the healer.

If she brings no ease of your doubt, then we will leave.



An honor to finally meet you.

This is Annora.

Thank you, Annora.

I will wait down shore.



You're cold.

Here, fair lady.

No, please.

I am layered... with years.

Thank you.

Your hands... they're cold as stone.

And so delicate.

The hand of but a girl.


(gently): Oh, my... come...

(Lady Love sobbing)

Oh... I am sorry.

I do not....

My shame now equals my impiety.


Never believe that.

You are pious, Love.

God holds you closer than you will ever know.

Now, tell me.

How may I serve you?

Will you follow?

It's where you belong.

With me.


You deserve this, my love.



My savior, please!



Follow me. It's where you belong.

You deserve this.

(distorted woman's voice): Master Gawain?

Lady Love: Master Gawain?

Master Gawain?

You may take me back now.


Of course.

Send your maiden at sunup.

I will.

Have we caused this sadness, Annora?

What I'm feeling is not sadness.

Keep her safe.


Thank you.

Gaveston: Tell your baroness she need not fill the pot to the brim.

Isabel: Yes, sir.

(door unlatches)

Where have you been?

Sorry, my lady.

That gray woman and her hooded beast stirred my nerves to the core, Love.

Your level of madness is not my concern at this moment, maiden.

She said to first stir in the powder.


It's piss.

This is...


Apparently from a very pregnant wolf.

(knocking on door)

Gaveston: Sir Gwynfor awaits, my lady.

His trials needing to be moistened in haste.

Tell that French pig I'll be there in due time.

Do not call him "pig."

Our lady makes herself presentable.

It will be but a moment, sir.

I hope you know what I'm doing.

Gwynfor: By ordinance of the most high king, Edward the Second of England, and His Grace, the First Earl of Cornwall, Sir Gaveston, I commence the progeny tests.

For what outcome do you wait that convinces your prophet I am indeed with child?

The pins will rust.

The baby's blood will swirl with slick color.

And the bone will...

What's the bone do?

The phallic bone of a goat will soften, give way to touch.

The science arts continue to amaze me.

Good Chamberlain.


Tell us, dear sir, how was your "French supper"?

A very unsatisfying meal.


Ah, there you are.

I leave this horrid hole today.

When do we get to leave?

Ah, patience, mon amie.

My needs here will grow.

I'm depending on you... both.

We understand, love.

A brother could not ask for more generous sisters.

Half sisters, Frenchman.

Yes, and you shall be the other half.


♪ ♪

(door unlatches)

Upon examination of the progeny tests, I conclude that Baroness Lady Love Ventris is... with child.

Gaveston: Non, impossible.

This cannot be true.

I cannot believe it.

This bone does not give way.

Gwynfor: Yes, well... the proof of the bone test has always suffered accuracy.

Then why do you give it?!

Do they all suffer, huh?

Rusted pins?

Swirled blood?

That woman is not with child.

I would place the stake of my good name on that truth.

Corbett: A wager as worthless as your journey to Ventrishire.



♪ ♪

Master Gawain.

Sorry, my lady, I'm afraid my "troubled thoughts" wander a bit far today.

I understand.

My thoughts are beyond wandering.

They've taken to a full gallop.


Yet you seem of better spirit.

I am.

When you see your healer again, will you share my gratitude for her kindness?

Her remedy served you, then?

Yes, it did.

The servitude writs for the prisoners.

Thank you.

They can be released?


I'll tend to that presently, Baroness.


Yes, my love.

Is there something...

You addressed me as "my love."

I'm so sorry, Baroness.

It was, I assure you, just a slip of my words.

I'm not insulted.

I'll be more mindful of what I say.


I so enjoy your company.

I do not want us to grow apart.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪

Have you seen my husband, good marshal?

I have midday meal.

He's in the chapel... enjoying his devotion.
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