The Black Rose

Medieval England...

the early years of the reign of Edward I.

A troubled land in those days.

Her great feudal fortress castles, born in that uneasy time...

stand now as stately monuments...

to how unyielding were the enmities that caused their building.

More than two centuries have passed...

since the Norman conquests have brought the last infusion...

of what was one day to be English blood.

Yet, the bitterness between the Norman conqueror and the Saxon conquered...

lay still unhealed.

It had separated the neighboring great houses of Bulaire and Gurnie...

by far more than the scant few miles that lay between them...

in those days that began with the death of Rauf.'...

Earl of Lessford and Lord of the House of Bulaire.

You there. What's your business?

- I was sent for by the earl's man of law. - And what might your name be?

They call me Walter of Gurnie.

I should have known you're his son by the look of you.

You had a good man to father you, I'll say that. You'd best come this way.

Saxons of any breeding won't find much welcome here now that he's dead.

- What do you want here? - He wants to see Simeon Bautrie, the earl's man of law.

Oh, so you're the lad from Oxford.

- I'll take you to him. - Thank you.

- Walter, my lad. - Simeon, I'm glad to see you.

You've grown. Thickened out anyway.

Did you find your grandfather well?

Well, I- I didn't stop at home. I came straight here.

I thought-Well, I was afraid that he'd forbid my coming.

My grandfather never stopped hating him.

You'll not have eaten then. Sit down, lad.

I keep bite and sup handy.

Fall to, lad.

Tell me, young scholar...

what have they taught you in this Oxford of yours?

Oh, numbers. Ma- Many things.

- I can read as well as you, Simeon Bautrie. - And write too?

Yes, I know a little Latin and some Greek too.

And French too, perhaps?

No, I'll not learn that Norman tongue.

Let them learn ours. Two hundred years since they came here...

and their court still clatters with that foreign-

Easy, lad, easy. You forget this is a Norman house now.

Do you want to get us hanged?

Simeon, tell me, why did you send for me?

Reason enough.

- You're in the will. - By name?

I mean, he acknowledges me as his son?

Yes, he says you're his son. I knew he would.

But don't count on too much from it, lad.

Tell me. You knew my father well.

He loved my mother, didn't he...

more than he loved that Norman... woman he married.

He loved me too.

I know he did.

I remember once when I was little...

I admired a pair of boots he was wearing.

They were black with gold leopards.

He said that he'd get me a pair like them.

He never did, of course, but I knew that he wanted to.

If he could have done what he wanted, he-

he would have made things different, wouldn't he?

Your father, Walter, bore a stout lance in battle...

and he was gentle enough of heart, there's truth in that.

Yes, I think he loved your mother best...

and that you were the son he wanted.

But it may be too that he's done you more harm than good by mentioning you in the will.

There's no love here for Saxons of any breeding now.

They gave their allegiance to your father...

and well that Norman wife of his knows it.

She's already thrown a score of them into her dungeons...

hostages against trouble.

So I'll not have you come charging into this business with all your emotion.

You can be present at the reading of the will...

but only if you'll stand well back in the hall.

If my lady sees you, she'll do you harm if she can.

Oui.

Begin.

In the name of God, amen.

This is the last will and testament of Rauf...

Earl of Lessford and Lord of Bulaire.

First, he gives and bequeaths his soul unto the Lord God Almighty...

and to all saints...

and his body to be buried in the chapel ofhis castle at Bulaire.

Item- He wills that all such manors, lands and rents...

which were descended unto him by way of inheritance, shall remain unto his heirs...

namely, Eleanor, his wife, and Edmond, his lawful son.

Item.

He wishes to acknowledge a known truth...

that he had another son, who, for lack of his name...

is known as Walter of Gurnie, and for whom he had affection.

To this said Walter of Gurnie...

he bequeaths his black boots of Spanish leather with the golden leopards.

Further, and of most importance...

it was his wish to will this son's life into the service of our king...

confident that he will make a fitting and honorable place for himself in such service.

Item-

He gives and bequeaths to the high altar of the chapel of Bulaire...

- the chalice - - There's no more in that will concerns that nameless lout!

- Let him take what was given him and leave. - Why should I?

Shall I crawl out on my hands and knees because some Norman tells me to?

- Watch your Saxon tongue! - And I'll serve no Norman king either.

I'm a Saxon. He had no right to hand me over to a Norman tyrant.

- This is treason! - And may you hang for it, Walter of Gurnie.

By your leave, my Lady of Lessford.

There's something here, I think, that touches on a matter...

with which I am very much concerned.

I should like to question this young man.

You have no need to ask, Your Majesty.

It would seem that the prospect of entering the service of your king...

does not altogether fill you with pleasure.

I'd like you to tell me freely why this feeling is so bitter.

You may speak up, lad.

As you see, I came this way while hunting...

so let us say that for the moment I am not your king...

so we talk as between two men.

There'll be no penalty for the truth.

You're a Norman, that's reason enough.

But it's not.

It's over 200 years since the conquest.

Surely Saxons and Normans should have found a way...

to live together in that time.

Your father did not feel as you do. He was a Saxon.

He knew that if this bitterness was not healed...

it would be the worse for England.

This is a problem that must be dealt with one way or another.

Tell me, when you refuse me your loyalty because I am a Norman...

have you not considered that I have no choice in the same matter...

that I must be king for Norman and Saxon alike...

whether I like it or not?

Do you Saxons not owe something besides hatred to the same cause?

What do I owe the Normans?

We lived at Gurnie when the Normans were no better than wolves of the sea...

and it was a better Gurnie then before they came to rob us.

She's a Norman...

and she robbed me of my name.

She robbed my father of the chance he had to have a Saxon son.

It was her doing that I never knew my father.

He willed me into the service of a Norman, but he can't make me serve them.

I have heard nothing in this that touches my problem.

This seems to me to be a matter between a son and his father.

I would not like the lad to be hanged merely because he has been hurt.

It is our wish that he be let go free.

Do you suppose this house could give a traveler rest? Let's say if he was born here?

- Master Walter! - It's good to see you, old Will.

You've grown, and well too.

Come in. Come in.

You're home again.

I hoped you'd come by suppertime. I laid a place for you.

You knew I'd left Oxford then.

Aye. We have a guest who came from Oxford. About you, I think.

- Who's that? - Bacon. Friar Roger Bacon.

Oh. Friar Bacon. He was a teacher of mine. I'd like to see him.

I'll tell him, Master Walter.

Will-

Uh, what did he say when he found I'd left school?

- My grandfather, I mean. - You know him, Master Walter.

He never says anything. He just looks.

- Well, how is he? - You saw that pile of iron in the moat?

Yes, I did. I meant to ask.

We have gone into trade.

A belted knight of Gurnie in trade...

dealing in armorers' iron and swine.

And just like he does everything else, not a word to anyone.

One morning, the horses were gone and the swine came.

And then the iron.

And when they wanted to know where he wanted it put...

he told me to have them put it in front of the gate.

They didn't know what he meant, but I did.

If we were going to be in trade, put it out where the worid could see.

If there's a price to pay, pay it.

And when he walks by it...

he looks neither to the right nor to the left.

I'll call Friar Bacon, Master Walter.

I trust this reception is not planned for me.

Oh, Friar Bacon. I- I couldn't help doing that.

When I was very little, that was my measure of growing up...

when I could wield that sword.

I could wish I'd given you so much of feeling about your books.

Perhaps you would not have given them up so readily.

Oh.

What happened concerning your father?

Was it all you hoped for?

No.

Will you return with me then?

I, uh- I don't know.

Never mind.

There'll be time to talk of that later, perhaps with your grandfather.

That won't be so easy.

Why not?

Well, you see, my grandfather and I only talk to each other through someone else.

It, uh- It makes discussion difficult.

You mean you don't speak?

Generally we talk through old Wilderkin...

but I should warn you that it may very well be you if no one else is here.

No, you mustn't think that he's unkind.

It- It's just an oath he took after the great quarrel with my father.

Well, perhaps I ought to tell you a little bit about it to make it clear.

My father was betrothed to my mother before he went on his crusade...

but when he was returning, he fell ill of a wound-very nearly died of it.