Where are you?
Whitehead!
Don't hide from me!
Oh, please, god, don't let him find me.
I can smell you!
Friend?
Hey.
Friend?
Your name?
Give me your name.
Whitehead!
Where are you, man?
You simpering dwarf!
Don't let him find me!
Whitehead!
I know you're there!
Where are you?
Six months to root out one irishman!
Six months, whitehead!
You ripped me off, that pompous ass.
And what do you fight?
The enemy!
Please hear me!
I care not what the master might say.
No more mummery.
You're finished, scribner.
I'll hang you from the nearest tree!
I've got you!
There you are, you coward.
This is the place, sir.
I am certain, this time.
He's here.
Ljesl
I saw it.
He cannot be and exact business if the questions are
ill defined, or the, the person, an individual is
sought.
Damn your impudence, you absinthius little turd!
God!
Go ahead!
Your pretty parts are doomed, homunculus.
Come here.
No, thank you.
Bawd's baaasssstaarrrd.
Looks like your prayer is answered.
What do you see, friend?
Nothing, perhaps.
Only shadows.
Hey!
Has he passed?
Same.
A bit soft in the head, but good with a pike.
We should pray.
You got anything to eat?
Yeah.
No.
Last thing I ate was a stoat.
Welshman, at that.
Fuck it.
I ain't going back over.
What about you?
My man is dead.
I'm my own man.
There is another I'm beholden to.
My master.
There's always others, brother.
No doubt they find you.
They usually do.
Especially when they want their boots cleaned, or the
balls in their asses burst.
Fuck it.
This war's not to be meant for my liking.
Too much fucking marching about.
Not enough grub.
I'll give anything for a good stew, and a
belly full of beer.
I was started a ways into the field
when I heard the commotion.
Yup.
Easy, friend!
He was with the other lot!
I am not your enemy, sir!
Easy, now!
I am not a soldier, sir!
What the fuck are you, then?
I'm a coward, sir!
What about you?
What do you think I should do to him?
There are no sides here, friend.
Let's stop acting like a bunch of cons.
And we shall forge an alliance at the ale house I passed earlier.
I say, yeah.
Did someone mention ale?
I should go back.
Suffer the consequences of my failed mission.
Was mission would that be, Mary?
Picking at the wash?
I'm not at Liberty to discuss my master's business.
Perhaps he's right.
Perhaps we should all go back and suffer.
I feel it is what I do best, anyway.
Jesus Christ could be here any minute.
Wouldn't want him to find us running away.
We're not running away.
We're going for beer.
Right?
Perhaps he is right.
Beer has its own way of sorting things
out, does it not?
Or it's his back. 'Tis all the same.
God will find all, as easy over a card table that's
swinging from a tree.
Help me.
Sorry.
I got orders to catch this fella once.
Stole a tablecloth.
There was no trees to hang him from, though, see?
We burned them all with firewood.
Difficult business, hanging a man without tree.
You all right?
T am not a soldier.
I'm not accustomed to this trajectory.
Go fucking back, then.
Go on.
Piss off.
We must not go back!
Your man said we would hang, did he not?
Can you be certain all his loyal men are dead, and do not
wait to wring your neck like a wet Mark?
You are as good as dead to them
this side of the hedgerow.
Leave it to that surely, friend.
Well, if god almighty shall preserve my life, I may
hereafter add many great things and
much light to my art.
What's he say?
He says the next time his master sends him on a job, he
won't fuck it up.
Say, I've seen nothing but shit and fishes all about.
Where's this ale house, exactly?
Past the field, and beyond.
And you're paying, you say?
You'll eat first, though.
I had a fire, a pot, and something in it I was working
up before I heard that business at the Lane.
If nothing else, it'll fill your stomachs.
So you'll not go back, then?
I'm not accustomed to making decisions, but self
preservation fuels me, I admit.
And we shall sample a better quality of suffering in this
man's co m pany?
I think so.
We shall stop for about a short time, no?
I may not be running, but I've no desire to
linger in these parts.
I'm only taught where, that the odds are presently against
a man leaving his folks behind.
Listen.
They've forgotten you already.
I wish the feeling were mutual.
The skirmish is moving elsewhere.
Fuck 'em, then, for being so flighty.
But surely someone will come after us.
There are only shadows here.
Remember?
Will not be the first time I've left a wake of
indifference behind me.
Down.
Down, now.
Get down!
Down, down, down.
Stay here.
Where you going?
Stay down here.
Ain't fucking staying here.
I was at...
I was a Cooper at...
I was a Cooper at wigford and essex before I joined.
Oh?
You ever been at wigford?
No.
No, never have.
Of course you haven't, yeah.
Quite right, too.
Yeah.
You're a wise sort, you, ain't you?
I could tell by your hands, all clean and soft and that,
yeah, yeah.
You think about a thing before you touch it.
Am I right?
That not usual?
Not in essex.
Yeah.
When creatures came to the village, singing their song
about the glory of the battle, you know?
Of course, it isn't anything like that when you get your
hands into the business of fighting, yeah.
Still have that song, though.
Yeah.
What about you?
Assistant to a gentleman at Norwich.
And him, an alchemist, physician and astrologer,
amongst other things.
I was charged with the compilation of sundry details
for his almanacs and charts, aid his prominent friends,
patrons, politicians in their decisions, all of great rank
and fortune.
I was often given leave of his library, which holds many a
closely guarded Tome to educate myself.
My father's poverty forced me to leave school early, but the
master saw something of a student in me.
Astrologer?
That's right.
Right.
“Yes.
Yes, the, ah, celestial bodies and their movements.
Prediction, prophecy, divination.
They hang above us.
Stars, the planets.
No, I don't... sorry.
Have you never looked up?
See, I was badly paid.
Oh, well, my master says that knowledge is its own payment.
Yeah, well, the only knowledge I have is that god
controls my fate as he sees fit, and I try to draw a
constellation from there.
Although I would like to know which of my many faults he's
punishing me for now.
My master says lest we live in fear of hell, we...
We have it.
Right.
All right.
All clear.
Baloo, my boy, lie still in sleep.
It grieves me so to hear thee weep.
If thou be silent, I'll be glad.
Thy moaning makes my heart feel sad.
Baloo, my boy, thy mother's joy.
Thy father bred me great annoy.
Baloo baloo, baloo, baloo, baloo, baloo.
Loo, loo, loo loo.
Of thee I'll keep my lonely watch.
Intent thy lightest breath to catch.
Oh, when thou wakes to see thee smile, and ask my sorrow
to beguile.
Baloo, my boy...
You strike me as a man of the world.
What order of business you in, squire?
Buttons.
I'm gonna have a shit.
It grieves me so to hear thee weep.
12 weary months have crept away since he, upon thy natal
day left thee and me to seek afar a bloody
fate in doubtful war.
Baloo, my boy, lie still and sleep.
It grieves me so to hear thee weep.
If thou be silent, I'll be glad.
Thy moaning makes my heart feel sad.
I dreamed a dream but yvesternight, thy father slain
in foreign fight.
He wounded stood beside my bed.
His blood ran down upon thy head.
He spoke no words, but looked on me.
Bent low and gave a kiss to me.
Mutton?
Where?
My darling boy.
Thou'rt now alone, thy mother's joy.
Sounds like hard work.
Is it a boy or a girl?
Fuck off!
Ahl
ah, fuck!
Agh!
Fuck it!
Ari
ah, ah, ah!
Ari
fucking nettles.
You all right?
Oh, you've got shit on you, as well.
Help me up.
You never seen a man have a shit before?
Go on, fuck off.
Merry band, are we not?
Formed merely by the alchemy of circumstance.
We would not otherwise associate.
Many chums I have here, back home.
He's mostly been amongst books.
My balls scream like harpies.
Nevertheless, it is indeed a pleasure to find like minded
company such in remote parts.
Where am I?
Monmouthshire.
That near essex, is it?
No.
Don't bother.
He hears the call and puts one foot in front of the other.
Isn't that so, brother?
My master predicts that impending events will stagger
the monarch and kingdom.
After the ale house, I shall stagger southeast.
I may have had distant relatives at gloucester.
I might go there.
Perhaps they have a nice linen cupboard in which you
could hide.
No stoat in here, is there?
No.
We give thee humble thanks to this, thy special bounty,
beseeching thee to continue thy loving kindness unto us,
that our land may yield us, have fruits of increased in
thy glory and our comfort.
Through Jesus Christ, our lord.
Amen.
Long walk, that.
Glaucester.
Best it's done on a full stomach.
Do a lot, then, do you?
What?
Buttons.
Yeah, loads.
Describe it.
No!
Which end of this mysterious beast do I open?
The ass end.
There is nothing like a gnawing hunger to slow a man's pace.
Or fix a man's resolve.
Eat it, man.
You don't have to marry it.
I cannot.
I'm set upon a particular fast.
Give it here, then, Mary.
A bit sour, but passable.
No more marching, no more orders.
Any women at this ale house?
What?
Pair of english tits not good enough for you?
'Tis indeed a blessed relief to have been forgotten.
If I may ask a favor of you boys?
I will not stand by like some gentleman while you pull more
than your fair share.
Sounds more like an older.
I will take my weight right along with you.
What's at the end?
Hang on, hang on.
Throw in the...
More important.
What of the ale house?
After.
You know, that's a fine state you've got here.
I'll give you that.
I don't pull well on an empty pocket.
Every man has his price.
My price ain't buttons.
Take your pick.
Well, t'll be jiggered.
You won't eat?
I do not suffer the same hunger as our friends.
I believe they would sell any religion for a chug of beer.
You have an angel about you.
You've been touched with the king's evil.
What was it like to look upon his majesty?
Curiosity fuels you, then, not food.
Let the king worry on his own magic.
God knows he needs it.
I, however, need yours.
Pull, coward.
Pull!
I am!
You fuck!
Take that strain. Dig your heal in.
Dig your heal in!
All right!
Come on!
One, two, three, heave!
Pulll
He's coming!
Is that all?
A fucking man?
Crippled bloke.
Maybe he's uncommonly fat.
Once had to pull my father-in-law from a bog.
You're in possession of a wife?
I can't believe that's possible.
Perhaps still, there's a misunderstanding of why I
left, concerning a small fire.
Keep pulling!
Get up, you lazy bastards!
Pull, damn you!
What beautiful colors.
No more pulling!
I brought assistance.
Sir, sir... no, sir!
We should intervene.
That is he.
Who??
O'neuil.
The man I was charged with locating.
Then I'm vindicated.
Right.
Easy, now.
Hold him tight, boys.
Beg pardon.
You men will assist me in his detainment.
Like gossamer.
What is it with you and hands?
News is, cromwell's men marched
north to meet the engagers.
I heard he exacted terrible revenge on the welsh bastard
at pembrooke, sir.
Indeed.
But this Irish bastard requires his mirror.
That's nice.
What's that he holds?
A scrying mirror.
What?
His what?
An occult tool.
A means for telling the past, present,
perhaps even the future.
He must have utilized some diabolical method to conceal
his presence in the field.
That is why he was not visible.
You...
You say he's...
What an asshole he looked, standing
there like king himself.
No.
Wasn't sure which one he was at first.
Cowardly type, though.
You should not have any trouble finding him.
He was the one that would not eat mushrooms.
I know which one he is, cutler.
Come on.
Stand up.
What are you doing?
Get up.
T don't feel them.
What?
My balls.
They ceased screaming.
Well, that is good, is it not?
It means the nettle's sting has run its course.
Maybe I mislaid them when I was pulling the rope.
Wait here.
O'Neil.
I have my quarry, sir.
You were expected, sir.
Indeed.
A lot of time has passed since we shared company.
Things have changed.
In the absence of better qualified men, sir, I hereby
place you under arrest for the theft of seven documents from
the private collection of my master.
What the fuck is this?
It's a shovel.
In the presence of merciful god, I trust you will now
surrender yourself and return willingly to Norwich to face
your accuser.
How is our master?
Well, I pray.
I'd wager he still has you doing a lot of that?
Praying, I mean.
The master is of advanced years, as you know.
Your outrageous pillage has greatly aggravated his dropsy.
Move.
What kinda merry band is this?
I'm sure he would've come himself.
But instead he sends you, the faithful servant.
Come, walk.
You need no invitation.
This is your country, is it not?
Although I've turned a small corner which I'm intent on
return for my countryman"s troubles.
Cutler has you marked as a coward.
It's comforting to know that things haven't changed greatly
in my absence.
'Tis true that I hid in a bush as
Mr. trower and his men were set upon.
Ah, trower, the dunderhead mercenary.
How is he?
Dead.
Then your arrest is academic, is it not?
Unless you will comply freely as a Christian man.
It would seem the master has kept you a veritable virgin as
to the workings of the world.
'"Tis true.
I've been mostly amongst books.
I find pages easier to turn than people.
Although, I confess, 1 have acquired one new
skill in your absence.
Indeed?
Lace making.
Only in my spare time, which is, uh, limited because of my
increased duties in your absence, but, um, of the
highest quality, I'm told.
He's not only kept you a stranger to the world, but to
yourself, it seems.
T do not follow.
You will.
Fortunately, my constitution was not suited to the master's
pious regiment.
I'm forced to branch out on my own.
I owe money everywhere.
So many I lose track.
Perhaps even to god himself.
We shall venture to continental Europe when the
opportunity arises.
I have had little success in applying the master's arts.
Been looking for anything of great worth, which is why I've
conjured you.
This place holds a great treasure.
I am certain of it.
I merely require a keener eye to pinpoint
the particular location.
And as much as I detest you personally, whitehead, I
acknowledge that your gifts are stronger in certain areas,
that you and I might divine in that.
I have little of my master's art in divination.
You are confused, sir.
It is I who am capturing you, not the other way round.
Do not concern yourself with bravery now, whitehead.
"Tis official.
You're my prisoner.
Now you will find the treasure in this field, and they will
dig it up, and I will claim it.
I will not assist you in such an ungodly scheme, sir.
Oh, you will, my dear.
You will.
The world is turned upside down, whitehead,
and so is its pockets.
Yes, make a note of that, cutler, for my, uh, memoirs
and recollections.
I fear he has passed all bounds of christianity.
He dresses well, though.
You are sick?
No.
Yeah.
My feet are like lead, I feel like I walk yet make no
progress, and there's a terrible burning like the
fires of hell are upon me.
I have some knowledge of physic.
I will attend you as soon as circumstance allows.
Fuck off.
Say, friend.
Friend!
My business with your man is concluded.
If it's all the same, I might Bob off now.
I confess, I feel peaky.
Could do with a few hours' kip.
Do not address me as friend, and do not speak to me
directly again.
Otherwise, I'll turn you into a frog.
It does not surprise me that the devil is an irishman,
though I thought perhaps a little taller.
Tell me.
I am curious.
How did an idiot like you come to stay alive so long?
Commanding officer says I have, uh, fresh
air between my ears.
Fresh air is good for a man's constitution, is it not?
Hm.
You may make a note of that.
Please, please don't shoot me!
What this party lacks is the civilizing influence of women.
He seems like a nice enough fellow.
Why do we race him like a nag to the glue pot?
No matter.
I like it, whatever it is!
Here! I
there.
Therel
what would you have us do now, devil?
Shut your buggering mouth.
Dig!
You must be thirsty, huh.
Cutler tells me that you declined his hospitality, but
you will do me the honor, sir.
You may break me, sir, but I will not break my oath!
Open up and let the devil in.
Open up and let the devil in, my boy.
Open up and let the devil in!
I'll have no recollection of consuming
anything of remotest sort.
A man can hold a great deal inside that he does not
comprehend, I'm not familiar with these symbols, though.
Nor I. I feel suddenly empty.
Maybe you should keep your mouth shut, unless something
else should rush in while you're not paying attention,
because you are apparently nothing more than an envelope.
I need to consult my documents.
The master's, you mean.
Of course you need to be punished.
I have located your treasure!
Sir.
Release me.
Please.
I beg.
Do not be ridiculous, whitehead.
All you've given me is a place to make a hole.
Nothing more.
So maybe you should fashion it one of your pretty lace
doilies while we try and find out what's at
the bottom of it.
What?
Nothing, Mary.
I think I have worked out what god is punishing us for.
Everything.
O'neilll
this man is sick!
He has bewitched me.
Attend him, but have that hole dug all the faster.
Once I get my wind back, I'm gonna smash every one of you
bastards' faces!
Help.
Say ah.
Ah.
Cough.
A I bewitched?
No.
Sir, you merely suffer a disease in the private parts,
occasioned by too much venereal sport.
"Tis all?
Well, I also deduce gout, a bloody flux, apostem of the
mouth, the pissing disease, St. Anthony's fire, iliac
passion, hemorrhoids, and palsy brought on by drink.
'Tis the one complaint you do not suffer, besides plague.
O'Neill: Back to work.
All I can do is administer a poultice to your
yard to soothe it.
Thank you.
I am my own man.
My own.
I am my own man.
Please, god...
I am my own man.
I am...
With thy defense, shall be preserved evermore from all
perils to glorify thee, giver of all victory, through the
merit of thy son, Jesus Christ, our lord, amen.
I am my own man.
Now, this is a fine hole we've dug here,
I do bless they give us that.
You dumb bastard!
Good in your loins?
You are a slave!
And I'll be a better slave than you!
If you do not cease, we may be blasted by an ill planet.
This is what a yard looks like, friend.
Friend!
Friend.
Friend!
There, see?
The word sounds good on your lips.
That other fellow uses it like a poking stick, does he not?
What have you done, cutler?
Would you do something?
I never had so many friends as I do in this field.
Remember my song.
When you get to the ale house, see a way to get a
message to my wife.
Anything, friend.
Anything.
Tell her...
Tell her I...
Tell her I did burn her father's barn.
"Twas payment for forcing our marriage.
Tell her I loved her sister.
Oh, I had, many times, from behind, like a beautiful
prized sow.
If I'd have known that, I would've paid you more
respect, brother.
And...
Yes?
And
I am the resurrection and the life, says the lord.
Don't be dead.
He just dug his grave.
But he'll not lay there until that treasure's out.
Deposit the corpse elsewhere for now.
He'll have a Christian burial.
No one will molest his bones.
Did it to himself.
Dying is the only way out for you, cutler.
Sooner I get back from fucking London, it's fucking
better, but it is fucking cold.
Fucking dog got fucking shot.
Citizens that pays for fucking reckoning to astrology.
I would rather die of the fucking plague and the fucking
sleet than spend another fucking minute in the
countryside.
I'll deliver that message, friend, if it's the
last thing I do.
Baloo my boy, lie still and sleep.
It grieves me sore to hear thee weep.
If thou'lt be silent, I'll be glad.
Thy moaning makes my heart full sad.
Baloo my boy, thy mother's joy.
Thy father bred me great annoy.
Baloo baloo.
Lu-li-li-lu.
Sir.
Sirl
sir.
Sirl
sirl
Christ in heaven, cutler, where are they all?
They have it, sir!
They have the treasure!
Can we go to the ale house first, sir?
There was no ale house!
It was just a figment of your imagination.
It was just to entice the digging drunk
and a grinning idiot.
What's this, sir?
I can have them to find the treasure for me
all over this land.
I must capture him before he starts thinking for himself.
Well, dig, cutler.
Dig!
Come to your master, whitehead.
Whitehead, show yourself!
I am my own master.
Whitehead!
You shall have as many books or lace bobbins as you like.
Show yourself, whitehead, you fucking coward.
You cannot escape the field, whitehead!
Then I shall become it!
I shall consume all the ill fortune which
you are set to unleash!
I shall chew up all the selfish scheming and ill
intentions that men like you force upon men like me, and
bury it in the stomach of this place.
We are brothers now!
Open up, you stubborn bastard.
Behold to the sea of man.
This country is at the edge of something, whitehead!
Fuck this.
Sever your conscience from your heart,
and you will profit.
Get down, you fool.
I've come back to rescue you, you great dunderhead.
No, friend.
It is I who will rescue you.
Look.
An angel mounting god over the field's treasure.
Hey.
Whitehead.
Come, friend.
I'll protect you from yourself as best I can.
And after that, I shall pray for more legs and arms to
greater appreciate the many natural intrigues and wonders
that play out below us.
Asses.
Maybe.
I shall write a book on the subject.
We've less than no chance, now they're together.
What say you to this for a title?
A field in england, or the myriad particulars of the
cotton weevil.
Catchy.
There is no gold, sir.
Whitehead's a lying bastard, just like his man trower said.
Just like I thought.
Nothing in that hole but dirt and old bones.
You put your money on the wrong man.
He is more of a charlatan and a fraud than you.
I...
I, I'm sick... ah...
D, don't...
Ah, ah, the mister said that you are...
Open up and let the devil in.
He's the king of cold hearted bastards, I'll give him that.
Could do with more like him in the ranks.
Whitehead?
You all right, brother?
Come on.
Not much left.
Here.
I have no knowledge of weapons.
It comes alive, does it not, in your hands?
That's a fine looking load you've got 'round down there,
no mistake.
Almighty god!
They're over here, devil!
Agh!
Perhaps almighty god has charged me as
your personal physician.
I will attend you presently,
if this maniac will hold his tongue!
Attend that!
Do not utter a word, or...
It'll turn you into a weevil.
Can we say but one thing?
I'll miss you both.
You will die unless I apply pressure presently.
Perhaps it's this bastard's turn to learn
a lesson from me.
He has risen more times than fucking Lazarus!
Watch carefully as I apply.
And take note of how I do it.
I shall deliver that message to your wife on
the end of my cock!
O'Neill: You chose to associate with a
low sort, whitehead!
He is injured.
He lies some 70-odd yards or so yonder.
Is that to say we're still friends?
No, we're not!
You may still catch your quarry single-handed.
There.
Now you're a soldier.
T am no soldier.
Will he find you running away?
He will not, sir.
Not this time.
Do you think there was...
Do you think there was treasure in this field?
The treasure is here between us, is it not, friend?
Pretty sentiment.
But you'll no doubt starve on your own.
I'd like to share that ale with him.
So he is your better friend, the.
You two is peas in a pod, and I'm about to pick up the
scraps of your affection.
Do not speak.
Message was clear.
Well, I shall prove my worth as a better friend to you yet.
See if I don't.
Shit and thistles.
Oh, dear.
I keep my lonely heart.
Intent to...
Catch up...
Dammit.
Intent as I had this breath to cut...
Dammit, what's the rest of that song?
The coward is here.