The Mill and the Cross (Młyn i krzyż)

So this could be a group of saints returning from the past

to mourn the present fate of Flanders.

Yes.

And when the painting is done,

you may have it if you wish.

Why did you do that?

Don't speak... - No.

Line up!

I can't abide by these high-handed methods.

At times I can barely contain myself.

These foreign mercenaries in their red tunics

are here to do the bidding of their Spanish masters who lorded over us.

Every day, their manners remain a stench in the nostrils.

And an offence to pride, to Christian humility

and common sense itself.

I'm a citizen of Antwerp. A banker of repute.

Collector of paintings.

I'm also a member of the 'Schola Caritatis'.

A brotherhood men of all confessions

without requiring them to abjure.

I believe, and many others in this magnificent city also believe

that good men of all confessions can come together

in peace and good understanding. And that is not the opinion of the king of Spain,

who is also our king, alas.

It is now his pleasure that all heritage should be put to death.

The men by decapitation, and the women

women...

I have seen it all.

My painting will have to tell many stories.

It should be large enough to hold everything.

Everything, all the people. There must be a hundred of them.

I will work like the spider I saw this morning building its web.

First it finds an anchoring point.

Here, the heart of my web.

Below the grindstone of events

our Saviour is being ground like grain, mercilessly.

I was shown our Saviour being led to Golgotha

by the red tunics of the Spanish militia.

Although he has fallen at the center of my painting,

I must hide him from the eye.

Why would you want to hide him? - Because he is the most important.

But you might have missed it.

Now if you look here,

Simon is taken away from Esther to help carry the cross.

And they all look at Simon, not at the Saviour.

Then there is a mill, based on a rock.

It is the axis around which all the people circle between Life and Death.

The miller just stands there, looking down on everything.

Why have you put him so high up? - In most paintings,

God is shown parting the clouds,

looking down on the world in displeasure. In my painting,

the miller will take his place.

He is the great miller of the Heaven

grinding the bread of Life and Destiny.

The bread is then carried around by the pedlar

sitting here.

Hoorah!

Here is the city.

It forms a circle within its walls. The circle of Life.

And next to it is the tree of Life

with fresh leaves.

On the other side is a black circle.

The circle of Death.

It's formed by the crowd gathering around the execution like flies.

And here below is the tree of Death.

A horse's skull next to it.

And the two men: you and I.

Nothing is going to happen.

When I think about yesterday,

when he walked into town, strolled out onto the Cathedral square

and spoke his mind. How they listened.

How they cheered.

How enthralled they all were. Even the soldiers.

And now that we're walking through the streets in a trance,

the same soldiers who cheered him yesterday came out to arrest him last night.

The same crowd that listened enthralled

has been screaming for his head all morning.