Versailles

He looks awful.

Nothing to worry about, Your Highness. I'm sure of it.

Your diagnosis? Mild concussion.

Caused, no doubt, by the fall.

I didn't fall.

I was hit.

Careful!

Your Highness. Clothes!

Tell the king I want to see him. You're not going anywhere.

I need to talk to my brother. What on earth for?

The mask. What mask? What are you talking about?

His eyes.

One of the prisoners was wearing a mask.

Try to ensure he gets the rest he needs.

He's right. You need to rest.

Not yet.

Not yet.

It is customary for the king's adversary to bow after the fight.

In Austria, it's customary for the loser to bow first.

This is not Austria, Your Majesty. This is Versailles.

A clever ploy. A vicious attack hidden behind a show of weakness.

History remembers the winner, not the manner of his victory.

On the subject of winners,

it is time for us to enter into negotiations.

Indeed. I received word from Rome this morning.

They look favourably on your guardianship

of Strasbourg and Luxembourg.

Excellent. Then it only remains for us to discuss Spain.

Is there so much to discuss?

Our claims are equal. We made a deal.

On King Charles' death, we split the spoils. Half to you, half to me.

Much has changed since that deal. Such as?

I won the war.

May I ask who won?

His Majesty was kind enough to allow me victory.

His Majesty... It's nothing.

You seem... tired.

Nothing that can't be remedied by a walk in our gardens.

How much of Spain do you want?

All of it.

Brother, you really should be in bed.

I hear your imagination is playing games with you.

I was just explaining to His Majesty

that you had an unfortunate accident.

Accident?

I spoke with the governor and he assures me

His Highness slipped and fell.

Nonsense.

I went to the Bastille to see the prisoner.

The Duc de Sullun? Yes.

I went into his cell and I was struck and I fell.

He wore a mask made of iron.

I am told that the prisoner's real name is Macquart.

What? A petty criminal, deranged.

He believes himself to be a duke.

They gave him the title of Duc de Sullun to appease him.

Why Sullun? Have you forgotten your Latin?

Sullun is the inversion of nullus, meaning "no-one".

And the man in the iron mask? Does not exist.

It's all in your head.

Now, please, brother, go back to bed.

No. No. Why not? You'll soon be gone.

So let's enjoy each other's company while we can.

It will only increase the pain of your departure.

Can I trust you? Of course. Why?

I need your help. In what way?

Your husband is trying to destroy the dynasty

our ancestors have spent 600 years creating.

He will claim all of Spain on your brother's death.

The Habsburgs will soon be extinct.

What do you intend to do about it? I will stop him. How?

My niece, Eleanor. She will marry your brother, Charles.

And I want you to write a letter to your brother recommending the union.

Why should I help you?

Because you're a Habsburg...

..just like me.

Because your husband has only ever seen you as a political tool.

He abandoned you the day he married you.

Since then, his only gifts to you have been solitude and infidelity.

"My dear brother Charles.

"I am writing to you concerning marriage."

They say that at Villarceaux

she spent her nights on her back in bliss

and her days on her knees in penance!

If you want my opinion, and I'm sure you do...

The question is, what colour for the forthcoming season? Blue or green?

Possibly a vexing proposition.

Duchesse.

She likes to parade herself as purer than the driven snow,

but behind that air of prudishness, Madame is quite the slut.

And the next time I see the king,

I have a good mind to tell him about it!

Who are they talking about? Me.

But there's no truth to these rumours? Of course not.

If you will excuse me.

Her Ladyship seems upset.

Tell me, Bontemps.

Do you consider it the mark of nobility

to destroy a lady's reputation with sordid gossip and lies?

No.

Neither do I.

Madame de Montespan.

Good morning, Francoise. Are you well?

It's you, isn't it? I beg your pardon?

Behind the rumours. Why would I do such a thing?

Because you're jealous.

Of you? No, I think it is the other way round.

Because I was ready to risk everything and you are not.

Is it true you put other women in his bed?

The king has needs that must be satisfied.

These women mean nothing to him.

You're scared, aren't you? Of what? Of your own passion.

You're scared that if you give in to it, you will lose control.

You take refuge in piety and denial.

But behind the mask, you're just screaming with pain.

Any word from Spain? This morning, Sire.

King Charles is expecting our imminent arrival.

Inform him we shall leave as soon as our negotiations are concluded.

May I ask what approach His Majesty is considering?

The same as Louis' -

lie, haggle, concede, coerce, protest, and smile.

The king is dangerous. I advise His Majesty...

I don't need your advice. This is a game of cards.

The prize is Spain and I have the trump card.

Thank you.

There is talk in the salon.

I know.

Is there any truth in it? No, Sire.

It is scurrilous gossip designed to destroy my reputation.

And mine.

The king must know he has my total trust.

I only pray that I have his.

Come with me.

Uncle, may I go to the salon?

No. You'll stay here and practise your embroidery.

Embroidery is for spinsters.

Which is what you'll be

if you don't show a little more humility and respect.

And I want you to befriend the queen. Why?

She seems terribly dull to me.

She is a Habsburg, as are you.

Though she deserves that title more than you.

But what shall I talk to her about?

Spain.

Spain?

Its people, its culture, its traditions.

But I don't give a fig for culture and traditions.

I want fun. You are not here for fun.

You are here because I have a use for you. Yes, Uncle.

The king!

To lie is a sin.

To slander is a sin.

To seek to destroy someone through unfounded gossip is a sin.

A woman close to me who does great honour to this court

has seen her reputation stained by the poison of gossip.

In harming her, you harm your king.

This will stop...

..now.

Mademoiselle de Vasseur.

You are no longer welcome at Versailles.

How embarrassing!

I feel sorry for her.

That girl is innocent. Nobody here is innocent.

You started those rumours.

They're not rumours, they're true.

She deserves to be punished for her past, just as I was.

I think you'd probably better arrest me.

I never thought I'd see you again.

Thought or hoped?

Where have you been? Holland.

I took refuge in the court of William of Orange.

What were you doing there?

That is where Thomas told me to go.

I was arrested, taken before the stadtholder and questioned.

They asked me all I knew about Versailles and the king,

and I told them all I knew, which is not very much.

And then?

He asked me whether I'd like to work for him...

..as a spy.

A spy. Here at Versailles.

Yes, Sire. I refused. Why?

Why would I serve a man who has already lost?

Is that what you told him? No.

I told him I was ill-suited for such work.

And he released you? No, Sire. I escaped.

How? The guard was susceptible to my charms.

I fled south, taking refuge in convents and taverns on the way.

And now you wish to reclaim your title and fortune?

I place myself at your mercy, Sire.

Bravo! On such a wonderful performance.

I speak the truth, Sire. Lock her up.

Then His Majesty would not be interested to know

that William of Orange's army is on the march.

10,000 men are headed to Austria to support Emperor Leopold.

How do you know this? General de Salm told me.

Another who was susceptible to your charms?

Why would I tell His Majesty such a thing

if I was a spy for William of Orange?

I shall make a few inquiries to confirm her story.

In the meantime, she will remain under lock and key.