"BRAVEHEART" (1995)

FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY

Converted to PDF by ScreenTalk™ Online http://www.screentalk.org

Epic beauty: cobalt mountains beneath a glowering purple sky fringed with pink, as if the clouds were a lid too small for the earth; a cascading landscape of boulders shrouded in deep green grass; and the blue lochs, reflecting the sky. We hear a voice, husky, Scottish...

A farmhouse and a large barn lie nestled in a Scottish valley. Riding down the roads that lead in from opposite sides are Scottish noblemen in full regalia: eye-popping tartans, sparkling chestplates. Even the horses are draped in scarlet. Behind each nobleman rides a single page boy.

Another noble rides in from the opposite side. Two more appear down the road, converging on the barn.

VOICE The King of Scotland had died without a son, and the king of England, a cruel pagan known as Edward the Longshanks, claimed the throne for himself. Scotland’s nobles fought him, and fought each other, over the crown. So Longshanks invited them to talks of truce. No weapons, one page only.

The nobles eye each other cautiously, but the truce holds. They enter the barn, with their pages...

Nestled in emerald hills are the thatched roof house and barn and outbuildings of a well-run farm. The farmer, MALCOLM WALLACE, and his nineteen-year-old son JOHN, both strong, tough men, are riding away from the farm. They hear hooves behind them and turn to see a boy riding after them.

VOICE Among the farmers of that shire was Malcolm Wallace, a commoner, with his own lands and two sons: John...

We FAVOR JOHN WALLACE, the nineteen-year-old sitting easily on his horse, beside his father...

VOICE ...and William.

WILLIAM, a skinny eight-year-old riding bareback, catches up to his father and older brother.

They ride on, over the lush hills.

The horses are all gone; the place looks deserted. UP ON THE HILL we see the three Wallaces, looking down.

He means William. He and his elder son spur their horses.

AT THE BARN - DAY

The Wallaces ride up, looking around.

Malcolm finds a pitchfork, John the woodpile axe...

POV from within as the door opens and a widening block of sunlight illuminates the dusty shadows. Malcolm and John Wallace step in, and are shocked to see...

Malcolm stabs the pitchfork into the ground in useless anger; John still grips the axe as he follows his father through the hanging bodies of the noblemen to the back row, to see the one man in commoner’s dress, like theirs...

A SHUFFLE; John spins; William has entered the back door.

Before his father and brother can think of anything to say, William, with a boy’s curiosity, touches the spurred foot of the hanged noblemen we first saw riding in. It’s too solid; he takes a real look at the face, and suddenly--

He turns to run, but knocks back into the feet of the hanged man behind him! In blind panic he darts in another direction, and runs into another corpse, and another; the hanged men begin to swing, making it harder for William’s father and older brother to fight their way to him.

Then, worst of all, William sees the pages, boys like himself, hanged in a row behind their masters!

Finally his father and brother reach William and hug him tight. There in the barn, among the swinging bodies of the hanged nobles, Malcolm Wallace grips his sons.

The cottage looks peaceful, the windows glowing yellow into the night. From outside the house we see John rise and close the shutters of the kitchen, where men are gathered. We PAN UP to the upper bedroom window...

WILLIAM tears himself from sleep; looking around, swallowing back his tears and panic.

Young Wallace has snuck down and is eavesdropping from the stairs. He sees his father drip his finger into a jug of whiskey and use the wet finger to draw on the tabletop.

Malcolm and John have saddled horses; they are checking the short swords they’ve tucked into grain sacks when William comes out of the barn with his own horse.

These words from his youngest son make Malcolm pause, and kneel, to look into William’s eyes.

Malcolm and John mount their horses and ride away, leaving William looking forlorn. They wave; he waves back.

It’s strangely quiet, until William and his friend HAMISH CAMPBELL, a red-headed like his father, race up the hillside and duck in among a grove of trees. Breathless, gasping, they press their backs to the tree bark. William peers around a tree, then shrinks back and whispers...

Hamish leans forward for a look, but William pulls him back.

They wait; heavy FOOTSTEPS. Then from around the edge of the grove three enormous, ugly hogs appear. The boys hurling rotten eggs. The eggs slap the snouts of the pigs, who scatter as the boys charge, howling. We PULL BACK...as the sun goes down on their play.

The boys walk toward the house, beneath a lavender sky.

William’s face appears at the window, looking toward

William has cooked stew in a pot, and now spoons up two steaming bowls full and sets them out on the table. But he is only hoping. He looks out the window again; he is still all alone. So he leaves a candle burning on the table beside the stew, and moves up the stairs.

The house is silent, fog rolling around it in the dawn.

William has been awake all night, afraid to sleep. He rises, and in QUICK CUTS: he dresses; he moves down the hall, stops at the door of his father’s bedroom and sees the undisturbed bed. He moves on, passing the door of his brother’s room, also unrumpled.

William is in the barn loft, shoveling corn down to feed the hogs, while he glimpses something coming.

THE BOY’S POV

An ox cart is coming down the curving lane. Its driver is Campbell, with MacClannough walking behind it. The farmers glance up at William, their faces grim...

From his perch in the loft, William sees that the neighbors have brought: the bodies of his father and brother. The cart stops; Campbell, with a bandage around his left hand where more of his fingers are now missing, studies the back of the ox, as if it could tell him how to break such news. The butt of the ox seems to tell him to be matter-of-fact.

William looks away, he takes quick breaths, he looks back...but the bodies are still there.

It’s now surrounded by horses, wagons, and neighbors. The undertaker arrives in his hearse.

On a table the undertaker has laid out the bodies and is preparing them. Cloths around the lower jaw and top of the head bind their mouths shut; pennies cover their eyes.

Softly, William enters the shed, drawn to his father and brother. Campbell follows him in, wanting to stop him -- but what can he say now? The undertaker goes on with his work. William approaches the table; the bodies don’t look real to him. He sees the wounds. The dried blood.

The undertake pours water from a bowl and scrubs off the blood. But the wounds remain.

CLOSE on a grave, with a headstone marked ANNE WALLACE. We INCLUDE the two new graves freshly dug beside it, and see the mourners gathered before them. The sight of the boy, standing alone in front of the graves of his dead mother, as the bodies of his father and brother are lowered with ropes into the ground beside her, has all of the neighbors shaken. The local parish PRIEST drones mechanically in Latin.

The farmers who were secretly gathered in Malcolm Wallace’s kitchen the previous night are now glancing at William; but no one is anxious to adopt a grieving, a rebellious boy. Behind MacClannough are his wife and two daughters; his youngest is barely four, not half William’s age; she’s a beautiful girl with long auburn hair, and she clings to her own mother’s hand, as if the open graves are the mouths of death and might suck her parents in too.

With the final Amen, the neighbors drift from the graveside, pulling their Children along, to give William a last moment of private grief before the grave diggers cover the bodies.

The boy stands alone over the open graves, his heart so shattered that he can scarcely cry; a single tear makes its way down his face. And the tiny girl feels for William in a way that the adults cannot. From the ground she pulls a Scottish thistle, moves to the softly weeping William and places the beautiful wild blossom in his hand.

William looks up and their young eyes meet; her sad blue eyes hold William’s as the grave diggers cover the bodies.

Then a lone, mounted figure appears at the crest of the hill above them. Tall, thin and angular, in black clerical garb, he looks like the grim reaper.

The girl hurries back to her mother’s side; everyone watches in silence as the figure rides down to them. He is ARGYLE WALLACE. He looks like a human buzzard, his face craggy, permanently furious.

Argyle glowers at the man, dismounts, and glares at William. William stares up at this frightening figure. They are interrupted by the ominous sound of approaching horses; a dozen mounted English soldiers, armed with lances, are approaching. Argyle rattles to the priest...

The soldiers ride right in among the mourners and stare down from their saddles, haughty, menacing, their LEADER brusque.

(to his men) Dig ‘em up!

Outmaneuvered, the leader reins his horse away. Several of the farmers spit on the ground. Argyle glares at them.

William and Argyle are sitting at the table, eating. Argyle has laid out a proper meal, with exact place settings.

Argyle sits down and begins to dine with the boy.

Argyle pushes his food away; he has no appetite now.

Argyle knows nothing about tucking a boy in bed; he stands awkwardly idle as William scrubs his face at the washstand and crawls into bed.

Argyle grunts and starts out. Then he stops, turns back, leans down over William... and with great tenderness the grizzled old uncle kisses his nephew on his hair.

Argyle sits by the hearth, staring at the embers. He holds the huge broadsword that belonged to his brother. He looks at the handle, like a cross. He whispers...

Tears of grief spill down the old man’s cheeks.

Once again the boy stands in the doorway of the barn, looking at the garish, hanged faces in his nightmare. Then a mangled hand comes from behind him and grasps his shoulder, William gasps, but the hand holds him gently. He turns to see his father, and his brother! They are wounded, bloody, but they smile at him; they’re alive! Weeping in joy, William reaches to hug them, but his father stretches forth a forbidding hand.

William keeps reaching out helplessly. His father and brother move past him to the hanged knights. Two empty nooses are there. Before the boy’s weeping eyes they put their heads into the nooses, and hoist themselves up. William’s grief explodes; his tears erupt and

HE WAKES IN HIS BEDROOM

tears flooding down his face. A dream! Still upset, still grieving, he gets up and goes looking for his uncle.

William moves down to the room where his uncle would be sleeping. He opens the door. The bed has been slept in -- but his uncle is not there. He moves downstairs to

William is barefoot and in only his nightshirt; but the sound of the pipes is growing louder. He moves through the moonlight, drawn toward -- the graveyard! He stops as he realizes this, then forces himself on.

William moves to the top of the hill where his ancestors are buried, and discovers a haunting scene: two dozen men, the farmer/warriors of his neighborhood, are gathered in kilts -- and among them, a core of bagpipers. The pipes wail an ancient Scottish dirge, a tune of grief and redemption, a melody known to us as “Amazing Grace.”

Uncle Argyle has heard them and walked out too; he stands at the fringes of the torchlight, still holding the massive broadsword. He glances down, noticing William as the boy moves up beside him. William whispers...

The farmers file by the graveside, crossing themselves, each whispering his own private prayer. Argyle whispers, half to William, and half to himself...

William takes the sword from his uncle, and tries to lift it. Slowly, Argyle takes the sword back.

He taps William on the temple with the tip of his finger.

With an expert’s easy fluidity, he lifts the huge sword. It glistens in the torchlight. The music plays, the notes hanging in the air, swirling in the Scottish breeze as if rising towards the stars...

William and his uncle ride off in a farm wagon. William has a bundle of clothes in his lap, and glances at his uncle as if afraid of his disapproval if he looks back. But he does glance back just once, to see the deserted farmhouse.

DISSOLVE TO

Amid the scarlet and ermine robes of officiating lords, with gemstones sparkling everywhere, we hear...

LONGSHANKS, King of England, stands in the jeweled light of the ancient Abbey. Known as Longshanks because of the spindly legs that make him almost seven feet tall, he has a hawk’s nose and a snake’s eyes, punctuating a face of distinct cruelty. Historians of his day considered him and the line of Plantagenets from which he came to be devil worshipers.

GENEVIEVE, a nineteen-year-old virgin of stupendous beauty moves down the aisle, the light in her face outshining her blindingly white wedding gown. As she reaches the altar her hands tremble, but she maintains her poise and control.

She looks toward EDWARD, Prince of Wales. Pampered young men surround him as his retinue. He takes her hand coldly and goes through the ceremony under his father’s stare.

The ceremony concluding, attendants lift back the bride’s veil. Her wedding day, the ultimate moment -- and Prince Edward ignores her, to turn back to his friends. But prompted by one of the sour lords, he leans over and pecks his new Princess on the cheek. For an instant, we see in her eyes that her heart is dying. But she keeps her poise.

CLOSE - A MAP OF THE BRITISH ISLES

Longshanks’ narrow finger jabs Scotland.

We are in the --

Longshanks is being listened to by his advisors, all in the outrageous splendor of royal military dress, and all deathly afraid of him.

He punches the map, then sees the Princess enter softly.

Longshanks’ eyes expand in fury; it is frightening to see.

He spins back toward his generals. Ignored, the princess settles silently onto the cushions of the window seat.

Give our own nobles estates in the north. Make them too greedy to oppose us.

One OLD ADVISOR speaks up hesitantly.

Longshanks glares at him, but takes the point. The wheels grind in his brain; his dark eyes falling on the Princess, he is inspired.

The prince and a muscular young friend, PHILLIP, are stripped to the waist and fencing. They pay no attention to the KNOCK, or to the Princess as she enters. She watches them -- they are dancing more than fencing. Edward loses his sword; it clatters to the polished floor. He looks up at his wife, as if angry at her for having seen his clumsiness.

But Edward and his friend are fencing again, the clanging of their blunted swords so loud that she can’t hear herself.

Edward loses his weapon again, and whirls on her.

For an instant, anger flares into her eyes. She glances at Edward, and at the young man with him, then lowers her eyes and starts to back out. But Edward has noticed.

She stops, but does not raise her eyes.

He lifts his hand and draws his friend Phillip to his side. Still the Princess does not lift her eyes.

She lifts her eyes. But she could not brace herself enough for what she sees: Edward nuzzling Phillip, the prince’s bare chest to his muscular friend’s bare back, both men glistening with sweat and sexual excitement.

The Princess’s eyes quiver...but she does not look away.

She starts to leave, as quietly as she came. But her husband calls after her.

She closes the door softly, on her husband and his lover.

The nobles are gathered around a huge table. They rise at the entrance of young ROBERT THE BRUCE, a handsome young man, full of intelligence and power.

Robert strides to his seat in the center of the table, and the others settle in respectfully. MORNAY, another young warrior, gives him a bow, as does CRAIG, a grizzled noble.

Flutes and dancing; laughter and garlands; village families have gathered for a wedding celebration -- we see the happy bride and groom. Farmers cart in fresh bread and hoops of cheese; villagers arrive with casks of beer or strings of smoked fish.

And watching the people are ubiquitous English soldiers, battlescarred veterans with missing eyes and ears.

Riding along the road comes William Wallace. Grown now, a man. He sits his horse as if born there, his back straight, his hands relaxed on the reins. He has a look of lean, rippled power. He looks dangerous.

And the soldiers notice him, nudging each other as he passes. He carries a dead wild goose hanging across his saddle; he stops his horse at the edge of the clearing and surveys the scene. Farmers are roasting a pig; women are comparing handiwork; young men are tossing huge stones in the traditional Highland games -- and everyone is noticing William’s arrival, especially the farm women with daughters of marriageable age.

Among those watching William arrive is Campbell, grown older now; and with his old rebel friend, MacClannough. William dismounts and ties his horse to a willow. One of the English SOLDIERS shoves William from behind.

William’s eyes fix themselves on the soldier.

His buddies, enjoying their role as intimidators, grab the bird and begin to search it for evidence.

They don’t believe that -- but they can’t find any puncture wound on the bird. William reaches his hand out for the return of the bird. The soldiers drop it onto the ground. Slowly, William picks it up, and heads into the clearing. The farmers watch him come.

Among those noticing William’s arrival, but pretending not to, is MARION MacCLANNOUGH, grown now into a stunning young woman; her long auburn hair reminds us of those years long ago; she wears it the same way, straight and full down her back. Her dress is plain, like the grass that surrounds a wildflower. She’s the most beautiful girl in the village, maybe in all of Scotland, and the soldiers how hassled William notice her too.

William reaches the food table and contributes his goose to the feast. FARM WOMEN eye him; he nodes to one.

The daughter mentioned is missing teeth. William nods to her. It’s impossible for him to giver her a smile as bright as her hopes, and she lowers her head in disappointment. But then raises her face in surprise as William takes her hand and gives her a respectful bow.

He moves away from the table, passing through the crowd like a stranger. Then he glances toward the knot of girls. He sees Marion. She sees him, then looks away. Do they remember each other? He moves toward her; she is shy, her eyes downcast, but then she raises them and looks at him.

They move closer and closer together. Just as they are about to reach each other, a huge round stone THUMPS to the earth at Williams’ feet.

He looks up to see on of Marion’s suitors -- the broad, muscled young man who has just tossed the stone in William’s way. Now everybody’s looking to see how William will handle the challenge. He tries to move around, but the guy cuts him off. Then William thinks he recognizes the big red-head.

It is his old friend, but Hamish won’t admit it, or be put off from the challenge. He points to the huge stone.

The English won’t let us train with weapons, so we train with stones.

He taps his temple. Hamish stretches out his hand, as if to show William something in his palm.

With a sudden movement, he slams his fist into William’s jaw, dropping him. A few men move to interfere, but Campbell, MacClannough, and the other farmers who are the true leaders here, stop their neighbors from interrupting. Hamish stands over William, waiting for him to get up.

William stands and hoists the huge stone, eighteen inches in diameter. Straining with the effort, he lugs the stone to the line scratched in the rocky field. Beyond the line are the muddy dents from previous tosses. William takes a run and heaves the stone. It flies past the other marks in the field; people are impressed. William looks at Hamish.

Hamish walks out, lifts the stone, and lugs it back to the line. He takes a run and heaves with a great groan! The stone flies, passing William’s mark by a couple of feet. People laugh and whistle. William nods, impressed.

William walks to the dent made by Hamish’s throw.

Hamish scowls at William, at everybody watching. He lifts the stone and carries it back to the line. William stands calmly. Hamish backs up for his run. William yawns.

Hamish backs up a few more feet, for a longer run.

William seems completely unafraid. He leans down, picks up a small smooth stone and tosses it up in the air casually. Stung by this show of calm, Hamish takes furious run, and heaves! The stone flies through the air, just misses William’s head, and buries itself halfway into the earth behind him. William never flinches. The people cheer.

Hamish is miffed; it’s like William won.

William turns, walks double the distance Hamish threw, and turns and hurls the rock he holds! It whistles through the air, hits Hamish in the forehead, and drops him like a shot.

Everybody cheers and laughs! They surround William.

William takes a tankard of ale from a farmer, walks over and tosses the cold liquid into Hamish’s face; he wakes, and, his eyes uncrossing, accepts William’s hand, pulling him up.

Grinning, they embrace. MUSIC plays, the dancing begins. William walks to the knot of young ladies...but passes Marion, and moves to the girl with the missing teeth.

She’s thrilled to accept; they begin to dance.

The musicians interrupt their playing; a group of heavily armed horsemen, with banners and flying colors, ride up, reining their horses into the middle of the celebration. In the middle of the group is an English NOBLEMAN; he is gray, in his fifties, and stops in front of the BRIDE and groom.

Stewart, father of the BRIDE, lunges forward.

The horsemen point their lances at the unarmed Scots -- who see that the English soldiers from the village have moved to the edge of the gathering, as if to dare any resistance.

Even unarmed, Stewart is about to attack -- but the bride intervenes. She grabs her father and whispers to him. She moves to her husband and does the same. Holding back tears, she allows herself to be pulled up behind one of the horsemen. Marion MacClannough is looking on, sobered by her friend’s courage and sickened by her fate -- and Marion is even more unsettled as she notices that one of the soldiers, a particularly nasty looking brute with a scarred face, is leering at her. William Wallace sees this too.

The noble and his escorts ride away, and as they do it begins to rain. The celebration destroyed, the Scots gather the food and disperse to their homes. But Wallace remains, standing in the downpour, keeping his thoughts to himself.

The farmhouse looks lonely and forlorn. William stands at the open door, and gazes out at the rain; it leaks on him, through his roof; he doesn’t seem to notice.

A thatched cottage, lit with a cozy fire, beneath the rain. A hand KNOCKS on the door, and MacClannough opens it to find William, on a horse! MacClannough frowns.

Mrs. MacClannough shoulders up beside her husband, and Marion appears behind her scowling parents.

Marion has grabbed a cloak off the back of the door; she runs out to hop up behind William, and they gallop away.

THE RIDE - MAGIC HOUR

William and Marion race along the heather, up and down hills, through swollen streams. The rain stops, as the sun sets; the Scottish mists lift, revealing stunning natural beauty. William stops the horse and they look out over it all together. He speaks, without turning to face her.

He lingers; he wants to say something, or maybe he just doesn’t want the moment to end. Finally he spurs the horse.

They reach the door. William hops off the horse and reaches up to help her down the moment she touches the ground, they look into each other’s eyes... but the door is snatched open so quickly by her mother that there is not time for a kiss.

He walks her closer to the door. They turn and look at each other again. She waits for him to kiss her...

She still hesitates; he isn’t going to kiss her. She starts in, but he grabs her hand. And into it he puts something he has taken from his pocket; it is wrapped in flannel. He hops on his horse, glances at her, and gallops away.

She stands in the open doorway; she looks down at what he left her. She unwraps the flannel; it is a dried thistle, the one she gave him years before.

William is rethatching the roof of his barn, when he hears riders approaching, and looks down to see that it is MacClannough, backed by Campbell and Hamish. Uh-oh.

William goes back to repairing his roof.

Campbell shakes his head and reins his horse away, with Hamish. MacClannough lingers.

MacClannough rides away. William sits down on the roof, and looks out at the graves of his father and brother.

Outside the half-timbered house, William stands in the shadows of moonlight and tosses a pebble against the wooden upper window. Marion opens the shutters and slips out onto the vines, dropping into William’s arms.

Giggling, suppressing laughter, they run to the trees...

They stop at a grove at the edge of a precipice, overlooking a loch gleaming in the moonlight. So beautiful it’s sacred.

He looks at her. They kiss suddenly, so long and hard that they tumble into the heather, rolling, devouring each other. Through their passion...

They kiss again...

Marion moves through the market. English soldiers admire her as she walks. She stops, looking at white lace and cloth. William casually passes, poking a note in her basket. Subtly she withdraws his note, and reads:

Marion slips out of the house and runs to the trees, where William waits with horses. She fetches a bundle she’s stashed in the crook of a tree, and they mount and ride off.

The church is at the base of the precipice, beside the loch.

This ancient Gaelic place of worship has been destroyed by the occupying army, and yet it looks devoutly holy this way, lit only by candles and moonlight through the open roof. The village PRIEST whom we saw at the wedding celebration is waiting at the altar. Marion steps into the confessional, as William moves to the altar and kneels in prayer.

Marion emerges; she’s changed into the wedding dress she made from the cloth she bought. William stands and watches her float down the aisle; his whole life was worth this moment. Together, the two lovers turn to the priest.

From within his shirt, William withdraws a strip of cloth woven in his family tartan. He and Marion each lift a hand to the priest, and he binds their wrists with the cloth.

From her dress she takes a handmade handkerchief, embroidered with a thistle to look like the one she first gave him those years ago.

The Priest waits for them to go on, but neither can; they’re too taken with emotion, looking at each other. The Priest intones holy phrases...

The lovers kiss. As they break their embrace, a figure carrying something dark and spiky appears at the broken door of the church, and William spins as if to attack, but the Priest catches his arm; they see the man carries bagpipes.

The piper begins to play, and the tune from his primitive chanter is wispy, ethereal, beautiful. The lovers look into each other’s eyes, as the single melody of the pipes merges into a swell of music, UNDERSCORING

It’s Market Day in the village, busy with Highlanders, merchants of all kinds, and a few special attractions like jugglers and fortune tellers. Marion moves along a table full of flowers and fruit... William, concealed behind hanging baskets, watches her unseen, savoring the beauty of his beloved, bathing his soul in the sight of her. Then she looks up and spots him, her smile sudden and luminous, before she remembers to conceal it. He moves up beside her.

Playfully he pokes his finger under the collar of her dress, pulling up the strip of checked cloth he gave her at their wedding, which she now wears hidden around her neck.

Tucking in the cloth strip, she hurries away, smiling.

ANGLE - DRUNKEN ENGLISH SOLDIERS - BY AN ALE CASK - DAY

They spot Marion moving through the fair, glowing, beautiful. The soldiers smirk at each other; as Marion passes, one of them grabs her wrist. It’s the soldier with the scar, the one who’s been staring at her.

A second drunken SOLDIER pipes up.

SOLDIER #2 Why don’t you marry my friend here? Then I’ll take the first night!

The scarred soldier pulls Marion into his big arms; she shoves him away with surprising strength, and he staggers back, to the laughter of his friends. Then he snatches her again and kisses her hard on the lips.

She breaks free and SLAPS him fiercely, hard enough to draw blood from his mouth. Tasting the trickle, he slings her down against sacks of grain, and the soldiers are all over her, pinning her down, ripping her clothes, a full scale public gang rape. As the townspeople try to move in the three soldiers waiting their turn at Marion pull their knives, keep them townspeople back.

SOLDIER #1 Bitch, who do you think you are?

He slams his mouth down against hers for a long, awful time, comes up clawing at her dress to rip it from her body...and is hit in the face by a rock thrown at great speed!

It takes a moment for the other soldiers to realize what just happened, and in that instant William is on them. He wrenches one soldier’s arm in a direction it was never meant to go, breaking the elbow, separating the shoulder, and slinging the howling soldier into his comrades.

Two of the soldiers leap at William, swinging their short swords; William ducks, knocking their ale cask into their knees; William lifts the whole table where they were sitting and slams it into the faces of two more attackers.

She shouts to warn him that the scarred soldier, now bloody- faced, has recovered from the rock and is behind William with a knife. William sidesteps the first thrust, snatches a leg from the shattered table and crushes the man’s skull.

But there’s no time for celebration. There’s blood and ale everywhere, and the fallen soldiers are yelling...

MORE SOLDIERS hear the call and come running, reinforcements converging from all over the village.

Will sees the horse that pulled the flower cart and throws Marion up onto its back. He slaps the horse’s rump and it plunges with Marion into the twisting village lanes. William darts off through the crowd, as the MAGISTRATE and more of his soldiers arrive -- dozens of them!

William pauses out in the central street of the village, just long enough to be sure they’ve spotted him, and darts into a side lane in the opposite direction Marion went; William weaves through the narrow streets of the medieval town, knocking over baskets, jumping carts.

As the soldiers stumble after him, the Magistrate looks down at his mangled soldiers. The one with the ruptured arm is lying in agony.

The shout rings through the village; Marion hears it, and when she sees more soldiers at the far end of the lane she’s trying to take out of town, she urges the horse into an even narrower back alley. She sees a clear route to freedom...

But the flock of pigeons pecking on the scraps thrown there behind the shops rise into the horse’s face with a sudden thrashing of wings, and the horse shies against a wall. Marion controls him, but a flap of her ripped dress has caught on a crude nail, and as the frightened horse lunges forward again, she is pulled off its bare back, her dress catching and ripping at the same time, dropping her hard.

IN THE TOWN, MARION

recovers; her dress has torn free! She starts to get up; but the soldiers’ pikes appear over her, and the magistrate leers.

William moves into the shelters of the trees, expecting to see Marion. He doesn’t. He listens; only the rustling of the wind through the treetops.

Nothing, except the wind.

Marion is thrown into a chair and her arms are bound with an oak staff behind her elbows. She and two dozen soldiers are in the tavern the English have commandeered.

The Magistrate is a battlescarred veteran, a brutal pragmatist angry with his CORPORAL.

He studies Marion, her mouth now stuffed with burlap. He notices the strip of cloth around her neck, and touches the weave curiously.

The Magistrate and his men bring Marion into the village center, and tie her to a post of the well. The townspeople don’t want to be near the soldiers, but they hang on the fringes of the square, too curious to pull away.

He looks down at Marion, her mouth bound, her eyes defiant. He jerks out his dagger and slices Marion’s throat!

Her eyes spring open like a doe’s; then she sags, dead. The townspeople are speechless; even some of the soldiers are shocked. The Magistrate turns calmly to his men.

LONG SHOT - EXT. THE GROVE AT THE PRECIPICE - DAY

From a distance, we see Hamish approaching the grove, the same one where he and William played as boys. Hamish moves reluctantly, forcing himself forward; as he reaches the grove, William appears, hurrying out to him.

We STAY IN THE LONG SHOT, seeing William asking anxiously for any news, and seeing Hamish’s great shoulders as he tells him something that makes William step backwards...

At a barrier across the main road into the center of the village are twenty professional soldiers, entrenched, fully armed -- bows, pikes, swords. They hear A HORSE’S SNORT...

THE ENGLISH SOLDIERS’ POV - WALLACE, ON HIS HORSE

He has stopped, rock still. The soldiers hush; there is something unsettling about this man alone, staring at the twenty of them, as if to steel himself for the butchery. Wallace raises his sword, screams...and charges!

We FAVOR WALLACE’S SUBJECTIVE POV: the barrier as his horse pounds toward it, the faces of the enemy soldiers with their eyes white with fear... They stand to shoot at him with their bows; the arrows WHISH toward the lens, fly past...

The arrows tear through Wallace’s clothes, but don’t catch his flesh. He charges on; his horse LEAPS the barrier as Wallace simultaneously swings the broadsword -- and he’s more than an expert: the tip, at the end of a huge arc, nearly breaks the sound barrier and the blade bites through the corporal’s helmet, taking off the upper half of his head!

The soldiers try to rally, to shoot him in the back as his horse leaps over them. One of them has sighted William’s back...But Hamish and his father crash into them! It’s a wild fight; old Campbell takes an arrow through the shoulder but keeps hacking with his sword; Hamish batters down two men -- and more Scots arrive! They overwhelm the soldiers.

WALLACE RACES THROUGH THE VILLAGE - FAVORING HIS POV

He dodges obstacles in the narrow streets -- chickens, carts, barrels. Soldiers pop up; the first he gallops straight over; the next he whacks forehand, like a polo player; the next chops down on his left side; every time he swings the broadsword, a man dies.

Wallace gallops on; his farmer neighbors, and people from the village, follow in his wake.

The Magistrate hears the APPROACHING SHOUTS. He and thirty more of his men are barricaded around the village square.

The see Wallace gallop into sight; but he stops, then heads down a side street.

The Magistrate and his men don’t like this; where did her go? Which way will he come from? And then they hear the horses, and see the other Scots, at the head of the main street. The soldiers unleash a volley of arrows at them.

They are loading to fire again when Wallace runs in -- on foot! -- and cuts down two soldiers! The other Scots charge! The startled soldiers break and run in every direction.

The Magistrate, abandoned, runs too. Wallace pursues.

Not far along a twisting lane, the bulky Magistrate falters. He turns to fight, and Wallace slashes away his sword.

Wallace’s eyes shift, falling on

William staggers a few steps, and collapses to his knees. And then not just the Scottish farmers but the townspeople too begin a strange, Hi-Lo chant.

William’s wild eyes slowly regain their focus. And there in the dirt beside the well, he sees the severed cloth strip he gave to Marion, now stained with her blood. He lifts it, crushes it in his hand, as the Highlanders chant for war.

The villagers are still excited by what just happened; at the blacksmith’s forge, men tend to Campbell’s wound...

They obey, then take a glowing poker from the fire and run it through Campbell’s shoulder, where the arrow went. There is a terrible SIZZLE, and Campbell reacts to the pain.

Campbell looks down at his left hand. His thumb is missing!

Wallace is sitting alone nearby, staring at nothing. Hamish moves over and puts a hand on his shoulder. Wallace looks at his friend, and looks away; killing the Magistrate did not bring Marion back.

SHOUTS of alarm: ARMED MEN are coming! The farmers scramble for their weapons, ready to fight; even Campbell jumps up; but what they see coming out of the darkness are twenty more farmers, with hayhooks, knives, axes, anything they could find for weapons. Their leader is MacGREGOR.

MacGregor leads his men into the circle of rebels.

They all look at Wallace.

Furious preparations: armorers pound breastplates, hone spears, grind swords in a shower of sparks. The garrison is led by BOTTOMS, the English lord who claimed the right of prima noctes. Now he shouts to his scurrying soldiers.

The troops begin to scramble into the courtyard. At the same time, the messenger gallops to the gate and nods for the keepers to open it. They pull up the chains and the heavy gate rises. The messenger spurs his horse to gallop through - - and is hit in the chest with an axe!

The Scots, hidden just outside the gate, come pouring through, led by Wallace! Arrows pick soldiers from their perches, Scots drop over the wall; the surprise is so complete that it’s over almost without a fight. Lord Bottoms looks around in confusion...

Scots drag Lord Bottoms off his horse; an arrow in a flexed bow jabs right up to his eye, the archer ready to drive the shaft through Bottom’s eye socket and into his brain; but Wallace’s hand closes on the archer’s fingers -- and Bottoms sees that the archer at the other end of the arrow shaft is none other than the Highland farmgirl he forced into his bed on her wedding night. Beside her is her husband, holding a scythe, red with English blood.

The point of Wallace’s sword jumps beneath the Lord’s chin.

The green eyes of the defiled highland bride flash fire. William takes his hand from her bow and looks at her, grief for Marion in his eyes; for the sake of that she does not release the string.

Hamish extends the reins of the Lord’s thoroughbred.

He nods to a bony nag hitched next to a glue pot.

Tell them Scotland’s daughters and her sons are yours no more. Tell them Scotland is free.

As the Scots cheer, Wallace throws Lord Bottoms onto the nag’s back and slaps the horse’s rear. IT shambles away, followed by the English survivors, as the Scots chant...

CLOST - A GRAVESTONE - EXT. HIGHLANDS - DAY

The marker is carved with the name MARION MacCLANNOUGH, and beneath her name A THISTLE is chiseled into the stone.

Bagpipes wail like banshees and the Priest who married Marion and William now mutters ancient prayers as her body, wrapped in burial canvas, is lowered into the earth, under the sad eyes of those who just fought in the battle.

Opposite William stands old MacClannough; he stares across the open hole that accepts the body of his daughter, his eyes full of pain, and then staggers away.

Wallace kneels at the graveside in unspeakable grief. From within his shirt he withdraws the embroidered handkerchief she gave him, and the bloodstained strip of cloth he gave her. He places the strip over her heart, and as the gravediggers fill the hole her returns the handkerchief to its spot over his own heart.

Prince Edward is in his garden, playing the medieval version of croquet with his friend. The Princess, ignored, sits watching. Longshanks marches through the game, furious.

Longshanks slaps his son, knocking him down among the colored balls and wickets. Everyone gasps, stunned.

Longshanks jerks him to his feet.

Longshanks grabs his son by the throat.

The king leaves. The friends of the humiliated Prince hurry to him and lift him; as the Princess moves to him too...

He slaps her! Her personal guards, Frenchmen in distinctive uniforms, jump from their seats at the edge of the garden, but the Princess raises a hand to show she needs no assistance, and curtseys to Edward, who shouts --

As Edward marches off with his entourage, NICOLETTE, a beautiful raven-haired Handmaiden, rushes to the Princess, who is wobbly, hurt more than she let show. Nicolette whispers to her in French, with subtitles...

Robert the Bruce is in bed with a young Nordic beauty with vacant blue eyes. She drowses; but the lovemaking has not defused the restlessness of Robert’s spirit. He lies on his stomach, turned away from her on the bed. Stirring, she kisses his neck; but he doesn’t respond.

But he is numb as she nuzzles him again. She sags back, and he still stares away, lost in thought. Realizing her hurt, he explains...

She looks at him blankly.

CLOSE - ROBERT THE BRUCE

On his FACE as he moves grimly up a dark castle staircase. He follows a servant who carries a candle against the gloom. They reach a door, which the servant unlocks. Young Robert takes the candle, and enters --

The old man thinks, and points a half finger at his son.

Young Bruce rises heavily, and moves to the door.

With a last long look at his father, Robert leaves.

-- Troops ride through the countryside, intimidating and questioning civilians; all refuse to talk.

-- Wallace’s house burns, as soldiers dig up the graves of his father and brother, and scatter their bones to dogs.

-- The English search through the woods, finding nothing.

William and Hamish ride, to see the damage. They find the smoking ruins, and the defiled family graves.

William is struck by an awful, urgent thought...

We open on Marion’s grave, with the thistle-carved marker, looking peaceful; but up the hill in the underbrush, English soldiers wait in ambush. Edgy, they perk up at the sound of muffled hoofbeats -- -- then their eyes bug as a cloaked figure -- Wallace -- suddenly looms up behind them, galloping and swirling fire! He hurls burning torches into the clustered soldiers, setting some of them on fire!

MEANWHILE, HAMISH has crawled to Marion’s grave and is digging frantically. The new dirt parts easily and he pulls the shrouded body out, cringing with the effort.

MORE SOLDIERS rush from behind the rocks at the far side of the graveyard. Wallace charges them, driving them back. He grabs the reins of Hamish’s horse, hidden among trees, and gallops to him.

Hamish hands the shrouded body up to William and bounds into the saddle of his own horse. They spur the horses and ride away, William clutching Marion’s shrouded body to his chest.

William dismounts, stretching the body gently on the ground. Hamish dismounts too, with the spade he used to dig up the old grave. He sees the emotion on William’s face.

Hamish puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder, then quietly leads the horses away. William starts to dig...

Hamish is waiting as William comes out of the grove. There is nothing to say. They mount their horses and ride away, as the MUSIC of William and Marion’s love haunts us...

Wallace and his inner circle hare huddled around a small fire. Other highlanders guard the perimeters. Old Campbell is lovingly honing the broadswords to razor edges and sharing a whiskey jug with Hamish, who stares at the fire. Wallace is using a stick to draw diagrams in the dirt.

At a loss, Wallace looks up at the sky. HE SEES: the trees stretching into the night like spikes to skewer the stars.

They look to see a half dozen new volunteers being led in, blindfolded. When the guides remove the blindfolds, the new recruits see Wallace and rush to him, bowing.

As he reaches into his cloak, both Hamish and Campbell instantly draw their swords and put the points to his neck.

Carefully, Faudron pulls out a beautiful tartan scarf, and replaces Wallace’s tattered old one.

A loud voice interrupts...

VOICE Him? That can’t be William Wallace! I’m prettier than this man!

They all look at a slender, handsome young man, STEPHEN, who is talking to himself -- or more accurately, seems to listen to some unheard voice, then answer it...

Stephen whips a dagger from his sleeve and puts it at Campbell’s throat.

Wallace jerks his sword to the Irishman’s throat, and grins.

Stephen grins, and happily tucks away the dagger.

Wallace shakes his head and moves back to the fire, as the sentries take the newcomers to find their own spaces.

A column of English light cavalry -- a hundred riders -- moves through the picturesque beauty of the Highlands. English LORD DOLECROFT is in command, wearing a hat with a pompous white plume. UP AHEAD, the English SCOUT sees five Scots, including Hamish, walking out of the forest. The Scots run; the Scout rides back to Dolecroft.

The English force charges off. Hamish and his men changed direction but the English spot them crossing a hilltop and ride after them. The Scots run for their lives;

the English horses gallop. The Scots run down one slope, up another; the English follow, find their horses stumbling, and see...

But as they move toward the firm ground, fifty Scots appear on the crest of the hill. Hamish leads them, smiling. Dolecroft wheels and looks to his rear; Wallace appears there, with fifty more, and more Scots appear to the left and right of the English, who are surrounded in the bog. Too late, Dolecroft realizes his blunder. Wallace lifts his broadsword, screams, and leads the charge...

The Scots are moving through deep woods; they are laden with the booty they took from the English cavalry: extra weapons, clothing, food -- and one man even wears the late Dolecroft’s plumed hat. Wallace is leading them, traveling with his heavy sheathed broadsword across his shoulders.

The collapse to the leaves and loam, greedily squeezing water from sheep belly canteens.

LORD PICKERING, English commander, is handed news of the disaster. He reads the message, and pales.

The moon is high above the Scots, encamped for the night. Most everyone is sleeping, but William sits leaning against a tree, lost in lonely thoughts. Suddenly William freezes; a shaft of moonlight illuminates a cloaked woman standing twenty feet ahead of him. Something about her is familiar -- and then she pulls off the hood, revealing her auburn hair, cascading in the moonlight... It is Marion!

Joy explodes on his face, and he runs to her, but stops before he touches her, as if she might evaporate.

HAMISH’S VOICE Wake up, William!...

William clutches at Marion, but his arms can’t enclose her.

Wallace jumps up, hearing the DISTANT BARKING that alarmed Hamish. Stephen, the new Irish recruit, races up.

Shoving groups of men in different directions, Wallace then takes off. His group is about a dozen; they race through the woods, dodging trees, running aimlessly. They stop and listen. The BARKS are getting closer.

Again they divide, and race in different directions.

But no matter how they run and dodge, the BARKS grow nearer. We INTERCUT with the approaching of the dogs -- a large PACK OF HOUNDS, with keepers like on a fox hunt, and behind the dogs, Lord Pickering, with his soldiers, prepared for a long chase, cloaked against the wet darkness, carrying torches.

Wallace and others pause, hear the dogs, and run again, in a new direction. The hounds are relentless. Wallace’s group is down to Hamish, Stephen, and Faudron.

Faster now, faster. The barks are getting very close. Wallace and his friends are starting to panic. The blood beats in their ears, their breath scalds their lungs. And we MOVE IN on Wallace’s eyes. He stops, gasping.

Wallace pulls out his dagger...

The soldiers grip their weapons, ready to take their prisoners. They burst into the little clearing; the dogs find a body, stabbed, his throat cut; the dogs plunge their snouts into the gore, yipping wildly. The handlers must fight furiously to tear the dogs from the body.

Lord Pickering approaches the body and looks down. It is Faudron, mangled now but clearly identifiable -- with the scarf he gave William, in place of William’s own, tucked into his shirt.

As Pickering rants, his men look at the darkness all around.

And just as the realization hits Pickering that he can’t pursue Wallace any further, a cloaked figure mixed in among his men leans in from behind him to whisper...

Pickering’s eyes go wide, then roll back as Stephen’s dagger slides expertly through his back ribs and into his heart. As Pickering falls and his men realize what has happened, Stephen has already run back into the trees.

Pickering’s men freeze at this sudden turn of events. Even the dogs whimper, picking up the rising fear of the men around them. Then from the darkness all around them comes a chorus of demonic, bloodcurdling yells --

Three wild men tear out of the darkness from different directions, their swords slashing. Pickering’s men panic and run, their dogs yelping, and the other soldiers, evident by their torches, fell with them in all directions.

Wallace, Hamish and Stephen are left alone in the heart of the woods, howling, barking like dogs, snarling like wolves -- and then laughing like hyenas!

They laugh again; then Wallace’s laughter leaks away, and he stares into the trees, where he saw Marion in his dream.

VARIOUS SHOTS - THE STORY SPREADS THROUGH SCOTLAND...

Two men are talking in A VILLAGE...

The same tale is exchanged by two farmers AT A CROSSROADS...

The tale is repeated IN A TAVERN...

DRINKER #2 Two hundred?!

And the rumors are discussed even INSIDE THE PALACE GROUNDS IN LONDON, where the Prince and his friends are trying on elaborate attire presented them by fawning tailors, and the Princess, ignored by her husband, strolls and chats with her Handmaiden, Nicolette (in subtitled French).

The Princess blushes, whacks her with her fan, and smiles.

The Princess is pained at such cruelty; Nicolette warms to share the juicy gossip...

A Highlander, a RUNNER, slips like a shadow up the hillside, to a circle of ancient monoliths. There, hidden among the stone pillars, he finds Wallace and his band resting.

Wallace rides down the road, followed by his band. As they pass people on the road, the women, the children, all cheer.

At a crossroads, more of Wallace’s men join them, in clusters. One group carries something long, encased in wool covers. Farmers in the field, blacksmiths at their forges, leave their work and uncover their inevitable weapons and run after the riders. They put on their forbidden tartans, kiss their wives and head off to fight.

Stirling Castle perches on a hill high above a grassy field, cut in half by a river, spanned by an old wooden bridge.

SCOTTISH NOBLES have gathered on a smaller hill overlooking the field; they wear gleaming armor, with plumes, sashes and banners, and are attended by squires and grooms.

The mists of morning shroud most of the field. But from the opposite side of the bridge they hear the CLATTERING of a huge army moving forward. LOCHLAN, a noble, gallops to Mornay.

He lowers his pike and starts to desert. At first one-by-one and then in clumps, more highlanders follow.

THE NOBLES see the desertion.

Then, riding into the mob of me, comes Wallace, followed by his friends. He’s striking, charismatic, his powerful arms bare, his chest covered not in armor but a commoner’s leather shirt, and unlike the heavy knights on their armored horses, Wallace rides a swift horse, like he was born on it.

The entire Scottish army watches in fascination as Wallace and his men ride through them, toward the command hill. The soldiers whisper among themselves...

The common soldiers, already having broken ranks, cluster up the hill to see the confrontation. As Wallace and his captains reach the nobles, Stephen laughs.

Wallace reins his horse around to face the mob of sullen men, now frightened, ready to desert. We play this picture, Wallace sitting his horse, looking down in awe at this thing that has grown beyond anyone’s imagination.

He glances at his friends: Campbell, Hamish, Stephen. They’ve got no suggestions, they’re just as awed as he is.

Wallace raises his hand, and the army falls silent.

Many laugh -- all get the point.

Down on the plain, English emissaries in all their regal finery gallop over the bridge, under a banner of truce.

He dismounts, and draws his sword.

Slowly, the chant begins, and builds...

BAGPIPERS play, pulling the mob back into companies. But through the lifting mists they see the overwhelming enemy army. Hamish, Campbell and Stephen move up beside William.

Campbell, Hamish and Stephen ride off. Mornay reins his horse over, lifts the reins of Wallace’s horse, and extends them to him: an invitation to join the pre-battle talks.

Wallace mounts up and rides out with the Scottish nobles to meet the English contingent.

OUT ON THE FIELD, THE TWO GROUPS OF RIDERS

meet like the captains of football teams before the kickoff. CHELTHAM, head of the English contingent, glares at Wallace.

Wallace pulls his broadsword and snaps it at Cheltham, whose eyes flash in disbelief at the bad manners.

Cheltham barks at the Scottish nobles...

The outraged Englishman gallops back to his lines.

They return to the Scottish lines. Wallace dismounts where his men are breaking out new 14-foot spears. Hamish, eyebrows raised, looks expectantly at Wallace; Wallace nods.

LORD TALMADGE, AT HIS COMMAND POST

The husky English commander’s blood boils from Cheltham’s report. Before he can respond, they see WALLACE’S SPEARMEN taking up a position on the far side of the bridge. Suddenly the Scots turn and lift their kilts and moon the English!

Cheltham spurs his horse to form up the attack...

The English army moves forward toward the bridge. It’s so narrow that only a single file of riders can move across it at any one time. The English heavy cavalry, two hundred knights, cross uncontested, and form up on the other side.

WITH WALLACE AND THE SCOTS

Things look terrible. Stephen turns to William.

The English leaders shout orders and keep their men moving across the bridge. Talmadge gestures for the attack flag.

THE CAVALRY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BRIDGE

The English knights see the signal banners, telling them to attack. They take the lances from their squires, and lower the visors of their helmets. Proud, plumed, glimmering; they look invincible. Their huge horses, themselves draped in scarlet and purple, look like tanks. The knights charge!

Their hooves THUNDER; the horses are so heavy the ground literally shakes with the charge.

The Scots stand and watch them come on. It’s difficult to imagine the courage this takes; from the POV OF THE SCOTTISH LINES we see the massive horses boring in...we feel the RISING THUNDER of the charge, closer, closer...

Wallace moves to the front of the lead group of Scots.

The Scots snap their 14-foot spears straight up in unison.

Now the spearmen snap the spears forward in ranks, the first line of men bracing their spears at an angle three feet above the ground, the men behind them bracing theirs at a five foot level, the men behind that bracing at seven feet.

The English knights have never seen such a formation. Their lances are useless and it’s too late to stop! The momentum that was to carry the horses smashing through the men on foot now becomes suicidal force; knights and horses impale themselves on the long spears like beef on skewers.

TALMADGE is even more enraged -- and his judgment is gone.

Talmadge himself gallops forward.

WALLACE smiles. He grabs Hamish.

Hamish hurries off with the message.

The English infantry keeps moving across the little bridge.

The Scottish nobles watch from their positions on horseback. They have a few dozen mounted riders, none heavily armored.

Hamish hurries up.

Mornay leads his riders away.

He drives half his army across the river.

He charges down the hill...

THE FIGHT AT STIRLING BRIDGE - VARIOUS SHOTS

The Scots follow Wallace on foot, charging into the English.

The English leaders are stunned by the ferocious attack.

The English leaders try to herd more of their footsoldiers onto the bridge, which only hams them up. Meanwhile, on the other side of the bridge, Wallace and his charging men slam into the English infantry with wild fury. The English fall back on each other, further blocking the bridge.

With rising desire to join the bandwagon, the nobles spur...

DOWN ON THE PLAIN, Wallace and the attacking men drive the English back, killing as they god. The Scots reach the bridge itself. The waters below it run red with blood.

Talmadge has begun to panic.

The English are not without courage. Cheltham leads a desperate counterattack. The Scots make an impenetrable barrier of slashing blades. Still Cheltham keeps coming; Wallace hits him with a vertical slash that parts his helmet, his hair, and his brain.

TALMADGE has seen enough; he gallops away. The remaining English General tries to save the army.

The English try to form up; but the Scottish horsemen, fording the river high upstream, come crashing into the English flank and ride over the surprised English infantry.

AT THE BRIDGE, WALLACE

sees the Scottish nobles attacking. The English soldiers are in utter panic, running and being cut down on all sides.

And the Scottish soldiers taste something Scots have no tasted for a hundred years: victory. Even while finishing off the last of the English soldiers, they begin their high- low chant...Even the noblemen take up the chant!

Wallace looks around at the aftermath of the battle: bodies on the field; soldiers lying impaled; stacks of bodies on the bridge; the bridge slick with blood.

Before it can all sink in, William is lifted on the shoulders of his men.

William kneels before one of Scotland’s ancient elders, who lifts a silver sword and dubs William’s shoulders.

William rises and faces the Great Hall, crowded with hundreds of new admirers, as well as his old friends in their new clothes and armor. The crowd chants --

Wallace lifts his eyes, taking it all in. At the rear of the hall is a balcony, backed by a magnificent sunlit stained glass window, and in the center of its rainbow corona he sees a familiar form: Marion, so real to him in this moment of triumph that he can see her, glowing like an angel, in a gown worthy of the occasion. But the illusion won’t last; in the blink of an eye she is gone, and Wallace hears the chant, and fingers the cloth she gave him.

The nobles of Scotland are gathered in the huge chamber; a massive table runs across the far end of the room, and aligned on either side are the two rival factions of nobles, glaring at each other. Old Craig is in the center, with young Robert the Bruce on his right. There is a general MURMUR along the nobles, and Robert whispers to Craig...

A court STEWARDS steps in and formally announces...

The nobles on each side of the table try to outdo each other in their acclamation as Wallace strides in, flanked by Hamish, Campbell, and Stephen, splendid in their tartans. Old Craig rises.

The nobles rise; court attendants hurry to Wallace and drape a golden chain of office around his neck. Wallace takes the three smaller chains they bring and drapes them around the necks of his friends, as once again the nobles applaud. Almost before the applause dies, a member of the BALLIOL clan, who has kept an open seat beside him, speaks up...

But Wallace’s gaze has locked onto Robert the Bruce, who stares back, the two young lions instantly recognizing the leadership power of each other.

The Balliols shrivel. The nobles on the Bruce side can barely keep from grinning. Suddenly the men on the other end of the table change their attack.

Wallace glances again at the Bruce, who suddenly feels ashamed of the bickering.

Suddenly Wallace turns his back and walks toward the door.

He turns again and strides toward the door.

Wallace slings out his broadsword and moves down the length of the table, bashing the succession documents into the laps of the nobles.

He brandishes the broadsword.

Wallace bangs through the door. Suppressing smiles, his friends file out behind him.

Wallace and his men are marching away, as Robert the Bruce runs out after them.

If you make enemies on both sides of the border, you’ll end up dead.

Wallace walks; Robert catches up and speaks to him in an urgent half whisper, so that no one else can hear.

Wallace walks away, leaving Robert the Bruce alone.

THE SCOTTISH ARMY - DAY

Wallace rides at the head of his army, moving through the countryside of northern England. It is autumn, the foliage is beautiful, the wheat fields gold with harvest.

A medieval city guarded by a fortress.

The ROYAL GOVERNOR is a spoiled young man, Longshanks’ nephew. He is studying maps and written appeals for help; his CAPTAIN of defenses strides in with another note.

They hear shouts as a rider arrives and dismounts. They look out to see a panicked RIDER, who shouts up...

CARTS, RUMBLING IN PANIC DOWN A ROAD

as civilians flee the walled city in the distance.

THE CIVILIAN PANIC CONTINUES as more people join the swell of those leaving York.

THE SCOTTISH ARMY keeps coming on.

INSIDE THE WALLS OF THE CITY - DAY

The governor is furious and confused.

The Governor turns to his captain with a look worthy of his uncle, Longshanks the King.

The oil beats the first wave of Scots back, but Wallace rushes forward, grabbing the ram cart with his own hands; the attackers rally to him, helping him slam the gate again and again. It breaks; but behind it is an awful tangle of carts, broken sheds, impenetrable rubbish. Wallace grabs a torch, throws it into the wooden tangle, and shouts --

They stare at this in mute shock. Wallace is frozen, his eyes reflecting his boyhood reaction. His men rush forward.

The Scots look at the hanging bodies.

Wallace draws his broadsword. The burning debris inside the gate collapses, leaving a tunnel through the fire. Wallace screams, and leads the charge through the burning barrier.

Prince Edward and Phillip, his fencing friend and lover, hear a contingent of horsemen clatter into the courtyard below; they look out the window and see the arrival of Longshanks. They lean back into the room and Edward begins to pace nervously.

Edward shows Phillip the dagger he has concealed in his belt behind his back.

Longshanks bangs the door open and stalks in angrily. First he glares at Phillip with obvious loathing, then turns his piercing stare to his own son.

A messenger enters and hands the prince a message. Edward reads it and nearly loses his balance.

The messenger has also brought a basket. He approaches the central table with great dread and places the basket on it, uncovering its contents. Prince Edward is closest; he looks in, then staggers back, stunned. Longshanks moves to the sack coldly, looks in, and withdraws the severed head of his nephew, York’s (former) Governor.

The king drops the head back into the sack, unmoved.

Longshanks nods as if impressed. He moves to Phillip and examines the gold chain of office that the young man wears. Then Longshanks grabs him and throws him out the window, the same on Edward and Phillip were looking out, six stories above the courtyard. We hear Phillip’s SCREAM as he falls.

Edward rushes toward the window in horror. He looks out at the result, turns back toward his father in shock and hatred, and only then remembers the dagger and goes for it.

He stabs at Longshanks; the old king smiles at the attack, parrying, letting his arms be cut.

Then Longshanks unleashes his own hateful fury; he grapples with Edward, knocking the dagger away and hurling him to the floor; then Longshanks kicks his son, again and again. He exhausts his fury on him.

Edward is a bloody mess; Longshanks coughs up a bit of blood. He ignores it and his son’s wreckage, and goes back to the discussion, as if this fight was normal business.

Longshanks calculates.

A full encampment, across an English field; campfires chase the dawn chill. Soldiers sharpen swords and spear points. Wallace is huddled with his inner circle, all except Campbell, who receives a report from a scout.

Wallace buckles on his sword.

AN ENGLISH PAVILION TENT - YORKSHIRE - DAY

Set up for a meeting in a sunny meadow. Wallace and his men ride in, wary, ready for ambush. They surround the tent.

There are two dozen royal soldiers there, but they make no threatening moves.

No sound from the tent. Wallace rests his hand on the handle of his broadsword, ready.

Servants pull back the sides of the tent door, and a tall, slender, shapely female figure appears there. There in the shadows, she looks just like Marion! William is not the only one who notices the resemblance; he glances at Hamish and Campbell and sees them haunted by it too. Is this another dream? He pales, as she steps into the morning sun. She moves toward him, her face lowered. It is Marion!

She reaches him, lifts her face...and he sees the Princess! William is relieved -- and yet as he sees the Princess more closely he is still shaken by the resemblance in the way she carries herself, her shape, the fall of her hair.

The Princess is struck with Wallace, too -- tall, powerful, and commanding. Wallace dismounts, and moves to face her. Their eyes hang on each other. She sees something that she has not seen in the face of a man in her whole life.

She surprises him by bending at the knee, in a half- submissive yet proud curtsey.

She nods; somehow she is already ashamed.

She leads him under the pavilion, a purple canopy shading rich carpets laid on the bare ground. Watching the gorgeous walk, Stephen lies back on his saddle and twitches his leg like a horny dog. Hamish backhands him; Campbell, Hamish and Stephen quickly dismount and follow the procession, shouldering their way in beside the Princess’s French guards, so they can watch Wallace’s back. The rest of the Scots surround the tent, ready for ambush.

Nicolette is among the royal attendants there; seeing Wallace, she shoots a glance at the Princess that says Ooo-La- La! The servants have brought a throne for the Princess, a lower chair for Wallace. She sits; he refuses the chair. She studies him, taking in his anger and his pride.

But knowing Longshanks’ family, she glances at a richly- dressed Advisor, a CRONY of the king, who averts his eyes.

The Crony mumbles to her in LATIN, WITH SUBTITLES...

They are startled at Wallace’s fluency in Latin.

She stares for a long moment at Wallace’s eyes.

He reluctantly obeys. Seeing that she wants the exchange to be private, Wallace turns and nods for his men to leave.

Stephen, who has been admiring the lady’s beauty non-stop, leans in and whispers to William...

Stephen moves off with Hamish and Campbell. Wallace and the princess are left alone.

The outburst startles even those watching from a distance. The Princess is mesmerized by Wallace’s passion.

The Princess is stunned; Wallace is dead still.

The Princess rises slowly from her chair, moves in front of him, and lowers herself to her knees. The Crony and her other attendants, seeing this from a distance, are shocked.

She lifts her face. Their eyes hold a moment too long.

LATER, EXT. FIELD - DAY

Wallace and his captains sit on horseback at the head of their company and watch as the Princess’ procession leaves. Hamish studies Wallace’s face; Wallace notices and gives him a non-committal shrug. As the carriage rolls away, its window curtains lift back slightly. All they see are the Princess’ fingers, but they know she looked back. Wallace reins his horse away, to ride back to camp.

The doors open; the Princess enters Longshanks’ war council; Prince Edward is there, among a dozen others.

She barely curtseys, and starts out.

He already knows she didn’t; Hamilton is standing near him.

From a box at his feet the king withdraws a crossbow and throws it onto the table. Most of those there are shocked.

Longshanks smiles. No one notices that the Princess is deadly pale.

The Scots are lining up to leave their encampment. Wallace is about to give the signal to start the march when Hamish, beside him, comes alert; a small group of riders in distinctive attire are coming toward them; what can this be?

The riders stop at a distance, and out from their ranks comes a single rider, sitting sidesaddle. It is Nicolette. Wallace and Hamish recognize her from the Princess’s visit. She trots her horse the rest of the way, while the French guards stay back. Hamish helps her from her horse. She moves to Wallace, and opens the heavy folds of her heavy riding cape.

Secreted there, hung from a rope at her neck, is a crossbow.

Wallace has gathered the nobles, among them Robert the Bruce, Mornay, and old Craig, for a demonstration. Hamish and Stephen have placed a spearman’s chestplate against a bale of hay. As William cranks the crossbow to its full cocked position and places a bolt in its slot, Stephen tucks a melon behind the armor.

William aims...and fires. The bolt slashes through the air and punches through the armor and the melon, leaving no doubt what it would do to a man’s heart. The nobles pale.

The Bruce sees Wallace about to explode, and tries to intervene -- but Wallace’s anger is too great.

The nobles grip their weapons; Wallace, Hamish and Stephen are ready to finish this quarrel right here. Robert the Bruce, backed by Mornay, steps between the two sides.

The nobles stalk away, and Robert draws Wallace away, to the target Wallace shot, so they are alone.

The question strikes deep.

Robert the Bruce walks off the field, heading the way the other nobles went. Wallace rejoins Hamish and Stephen. They look to him; what do we do now?

In the faint nimbus of the single candle, young Robert sits across from his leper father. The son grips his own head, as if stunned by a blow.

Heartsick, the father reaches across the table, then stays his arm, unwilling to touch his son with his leprous hand.

Young Robert holds his father with his eyes, and does not look away.

The Scottish army moves out onto the hilly plain, covered in the gray mists. They see glimpses of the enemy in the distance. Wallace deploys the Scots: Campbell with the schiltrons (spear formations), Stephen with the infantry, the noble Mornay leading the cavalry, and with Wallace and Hamish on horseback, looking over the field. Hamish sees gazing up at an empty hill above the field.

He’d better, the odds look long. And it’s nasty ground; one side of the field is ankle deep in water, and the English are covering it with a layer of burning oil, releasing thick smoke to hide their movements.

The Priest from their home village is moving through the Scottish ranks, dispensing absolution. He reaches the two friends, who accept the Host, say their own last prayers, and give each other a look of goodbye. Hamish rides off to join the schiltrons.

And as they draw nearer, Wallace hears a haunting noise. He sees the bowmen more clearly, and the English infantry. Some are wearing kilts and marching to bagpipes.

STEPHEN OF IRELAND, WITH THE SCOTTISH INFANTRY

He stares at the approach of his countrymen. Wallace appears beside him. Stephen sees him, and is ashamed.

Loyal to the end. Wallace signals to Hamish and Campbell, among the schiltrons. The formations, bristling with spears, move forward. Hamish looks back at Wallace; both men know the spearmen are the bait here. Wallace and Stephen see the English heavy cavalry advancing.

Wallace is scanning the battlefield. He sees the English cavalry charge, but before they reach the bristling spears, they pull up, and crossbowmen, moving up behind the knights.

The crossbowmen fire a volley, too hurriedly. We see the hailstorm of bolts slash through the air in unison -- you can actually see them coming. The bows fall short of the front ranks of the schiltrons.

Stephen signals, and up the slope behind them come handlers with ten war dogs.

Huge mastiffs, they wear steel collars, with razor sharp protrusions. Their handlers hold them at the end of long catch poles. The crossbowmen are distracted from their re- loading by the appearance of the mastiffs; now, as the Scottish handlers run toward the English ranks and unleash the dogs, fear races through the English line.

The dogs tear into them. It is chaos; the bowmen can’t flee, and as the dogs mix among them, the bowmen fire frantically, mostly hitting each other. The dogs’ collars slash legs; their jaws crush bones; even when their back legs are hacked off, the frenzied dogs keep killing.

Wallace signals to Mornay with the Scottish cavalry. Mornay does nothing. The crossbowmen, though taking great punishment, are beginning to overwhelm the dogs by sheer numbers, and are regrouping.

Mornay tugs his reins and leads his cavalry away.

WALLACE, WITH STEPHEN

They see the Scottish army abandoned.

Wallace glances to the other hilltop; still no sign of Bruce. He looks on in agony as the crossbowmen unleash another volley. The Scottish spearmen, bunched in a tight group, are helpless. The bolts fall, cutting through their helmets and breastplates like paper. Wallace has no cavalry -- and his men are being slaughtered! He spurs his horse, and Stephen and the infantrymen race behind him.

The English heavy cavalry surge to meet them, but Wallace weaves through them, dodging with his horse, slashing with the broadsword, cutting down on knight, another, another... The Scottish infantry claws in, dragging down the horses, hacking the knights as they run by.

The English bowmen are about to fire again, but they see the Scottish charge bearing down on them and adjust their aim; the bolts cut into the infantrymen; one bolt tears off the armor of Wallace’s left shoulder. He wobbles on his horse, regains his balance, and keeps up the charge.

The General signals and the English reinforcements surge into the battle.

IN THE THICK OF THE BATTLE

On horseback, Wallace fights his way into the watery edge of the field, where English infantry is now overrunning the schiltron. He hacks men down left and right, reaches the Scottish center, and finds Hamish bending over another soldier. Wallace dismounts.

And Wallace sees that Hamish is holding his father, fallen in battle. Wallace has no time to react; he cuts down and English swordsman moving in to hack Hamish’s back. Wallace lifts Campbell across the saddle, and shouts at Hamish...

Hamish obeys, jumping onto the horse and galloping back toward the rear. Wallace fights with new vengeance, swinging the double-edged broadsword with deadly accuracy.

Rallied by Wallace’s presence, the Scots surge back. Then Wallace sees the English reinforcement cavalry coming.

The Scots pull up spears and hastily form another schiltron. The spears bristle out, ready...the English horsemen thunder in. But before the spears impale the horses, another flight of crossbow bolts cuts down half the Scots still fighting.

Hamish reaches the rear of the battle and lowers the limp body of his father to the Scottish monks who are attending to the wounded and giving absolution to the dying...

Still Wallace fights back, meeting the English charge. The Scots hold their own. An English knight tries to ride over William; he knocks the lance aside, and tough the horse slams into him, William also unseats the rider.

The rider rolls to his feet. William struggles up to meet him -- and comes face to face with Robert the Bruce.

The shock and recognition stun Wallace; in that moment, looking at Robert the Bruce’s guilt-ridden face, he understands everything: the betrayal, the hopelessness of Scotland. As he stands there frozen, a bolt punches into the muscle of his neck, and Wallace doesn’t react to it.

Bruce is horrified at the sight of Wallace this way. He batters at Wallace’s sword, as if its use would give him absolution.

But Wallace can only stagger back. Bruce’s voice grows ragged as he screams.

All around, the battle has decayed; the Scots are being slaughtered. Another bolt glances off Wallace’s helmet; a third rips into his thigh plate, making his legs collapse.

Suddenly Stephen comes through the melee, on Robert’s horse! He hits Robert from behind, knocking him down, and jumps to the ground to try and lift William onto the horse!

Robert sees a knot of crossbowmen moving up, sighting out Wallace, taking careful aim! Bruce leaps up and helps Stephen sling Wallace onto the back of the horse, even covers him with his shield, deflecting another bolt fired at Wallace, as Stephen mounts too.

As the horse plunges away into the smoke, Robert falls to the water. His own troops reach him, realize who he is, see the horrible expression on his face, and race on after the Scots. Robert is left alone, on his knees in the water, the fire and noise of battle now dim to him, as if his senses have died along with his heart.

Remnants of the defeated army straggle past. Wallace an Stephen are trying to help Hamish carry his father, but now old Campbell says...

But as they tilt old Campbell onto the ground, he grabs at something that starts to fall from the wound in his stomach.

Hamish is too grief-stricken to speak.

Old Campbell rallies one more time for this.

The last three words to Hamish, telling him he’s a hero too.

Hamish is weeping. When he looks up again, his father has died. We PULL BACK from them in tableaux, with the army, the people of Scotland, the whole gray world in defeat.

Wallace, still bloody and in his battered armor, removes the chain of office from beneath his breastplate, lays it onto the table in front of Craig and the other nobles, and walks from the room. Hamish and Stephen see the satisfaction on the nobles’ face, and follow William out.

Hamish and Stephen move out into the hallway after Wallace -- but he is gone.

Wallace is in the woods, in the grove of trees, looking at Marion’s hidden grave. The rain falls on his face, like tears. But he has no tears of his own. The cold, the icy rain, the wounds, nothing seems to touch him.

With his fingertips he carefully draws her embroidered cloth from beneath his breastplate; hanging in his trembling hands, filthy with the grime and gore of battle, it looks impossibly white, something from a better, purer world.

DISSOLVE TO

Thunder, the sound of driving rain. Snug by a massive fire are Longshanks, his son Edward, and other advisors. On the far side of the room, away from the fire, the Princess stands at the window and watches the rain against the panes.

Longshanks savors the victory -- and gloats to his son.

From the other side of the window, we see the Princess as she hears him, but doesn’t turn around. She looks at the window, we snow swirling among the raindrops outside. Her eyes glisten, and her breath fogs the glass.

The elder Bruce, his decaying features sagging from his face, stares across the table at his son.

Mornay, in an opulent bedchamber hung with tapestries and carpeted with eastern rugs, lies in bed, tossing in the restless sleep of a tortured soul.

He thinks he hears galloping. In SUBLIMINAL FLASHES he DREAMS of Wallace riding toward him.

He wakes, and listens to a strange noise. It is hoofbeats! Coming closer. He hears shouts too, screams from below -- and those strange, approaching hoofbeats...

WALLACE, ON HORSEBACK

rides up the circular stairs inside Mornay’s castle! His horse bounds up the stone -- Mornay’s guards are behind him, on foot, pursuing.

At a landing, Wallace cuts down a guard, and gallops higher.

IN HIS BED, MORNAY

sits up gawking as the door explodes inward and Wallace rides through! Mornay is frozen. Wallace slashes him down.

Out in the corridor, the guards gather; they have Wallace trapped. He covers the horse’s eyes with a cloth and spurs his flanks. the blind animal runs through the window!

The horse and rider plunge past the sheer walls of the castle...and into the loch! Mornay’s guards and the castle servants cluster at the windows to see Wallace and the horse surface, and swim to the shore, escaping!

The news has spread through the countryside. In the town square, drunken Scotsmen chant...

Old Craig rides past them, heading toward he Bruce’s castle on the hill above the town.

Robert is in his central room; he hears the chanting from far below. Old Craig enters.

Craig hands him the bloody nightshirt Mornay was wearing.

He can’t hide his admiration. From below, he still hears the people CHANTING...

Longshanks and Edward are in the royal gardens, resplendent with spring. Longshanks pulls a new flower, and crushes it.

Longshanks glowers at his son; the Princess arrives.

Edward snickers in derision -- but his wife is steel.

Locharmbie is a small, picturesque castle on a hillside. As the queen’s entourage moves through the gates, they close behind her. She steps out of the carriage and moves into

Inside the great hall are thirty killers, led by their CHIEF ASSASSIN, a cutthroat with a mangled eye.

Wallace is in the grove of trees where Marion is buried. Drinking in the silence, his own isolation. He hears a RUSTLE behind him, and spins, drawing the broadsword. Then his face registers...it’s Hamish and Stephen.

Hamish is unsure if he did the right thing in coming here -- unsure, until Wallace moves to them, and hugs them.

They are in the old secret cave; rain is falling, but it’s dry inside, with a campfire smoldering at the entrance.

Stephen pulls a jug of whiskey from his pocket. He swigs, hands it to Hamish for a chug, then to Wallace, who declines, but smiles for the first time in many weeks.

Wallace frowns; a barn?

Hauntingly similar to the one in Wallace’s childhood. As he sits on his horse and looks at the place, surmounted by a white flag of truce, it gives him a chill. But in full view of the barn, he hands Hamish his sword and rides forward.

They position themselves at every entrance.

More Scots, led by Stephen, scramble up from hiding, place tinder-dry brush and pitch against the barn, and set it on fire. In moments the entire barn is blazing. The Scots stand back and watch the barn burn, their faces lit by the flames. After awhile, there are no more screams from inside.

The Princess sees the burning off in the distance, like a bonfire. She stands on the wall, looking out at it. And then she sees, on a hillside, silhouetted against the night and the fire, a rider, just sitting there on his horse, looking at the castle. She runs into the castle, up the stairs, and stands on the pinnacle of the castle, so that she too is silhouetted, and he can see her.

The lone rider is William Wallace.

INSIDE THE STABLE COTTAGE, THE PRINCESS

sits alone, wondering if her signal is going to work.

INSIDE THE ROOM, she looks up, and sees him there. The first glance frightens her, and yet she expected him, prayed for him to come. Now, for a long, long moment the two of them look at each other through the glass, each realizing the implications of this moment.

She moves to the window and opens it. The wind rushing through extinguishes the candle, and he slips inside. They face each other in the darkness. Then she strikes a match and relights the candle, and they look at each other.

She wants to say something -- but instead she says something else.

He turns his face away. Gently, she pulls it back.

He twists back toward the window.

Surprised, he looks at her now.

Slowly, it starts to dawn on him what she’s asking, and an unexpected smile plays at his lips. Her smile lights too.

Slowly, he reaches to the candle flame, and pinches it out.

IN THE SHADOWS OF THE COTTAGE BED

we see the surging, pent-up passion...and

DISSOLVE TO

Wallace wakes suddenly; sunlight! He grabs for his clothes, as she wakes, covers herself in the blanket and jumps out of bed, rushing to the window to look out.

He reaches her, throws the window open, and sees a clear path down the wall to safety. He stops and looks at her, and touches her face in gratitude. She has to ask...

Pausing to look straight into her eyes, he kisses her -- her, not Marion -- and climbs out. She watches him go.

Wallace stands alone in the grove where Marion lies.

Once again, Wallace stares at the fire, beside his friends.

Stephen offers the jug; Wallace declines.

Pulling a tattered tartan around himself, he lies down.

LONGSHANKS, INT. HIS PALACE - NIGHT

He sits by a palace hearth, where a huge blaze burns; still he’s huddled beneath a blanket, and coughing blood. But he ignores the ice in his lungs; his mind is plotting.

THE PRINCESS, EXT. THE WALLS OF HER CASTLE - NIGHT

she walks the parapets alone, lost in her own thoughts.

ROBERT THE BRUCE, IN A STONE ROOM OF HIS CASTLE

sits staring at...the stone coffin of his father. The coffin is closed; on its top is a lifesize stone carving of his father as a knight in final repose. Ranks of candles light the scene, and Robert’s face, cold as the stone. A SHUFFLE...Robert looks up to see old Craig.

Craig sits next to Robert, and keeps his voice low.

Robert only stares at his father’s stone coffin.

He shows Robert a parchment bearing the noblest names in Scotland. The Bruce barely glances at it.

Robert turns from his father’s coffin, to look at Craig.

A commotion; the nobles, their heads hooded, are led in on horseback by guerrillas from the village. The nobles stop, feel their hoods pulled off, and see Wallace.

Meet us at the city gates, two days from now, at sunset. Pledge us your pardon and we will unite behind you. Scotland will be one.

Wallace glances at Hamish and Stephen, who can barely hide their contempt. Wallace looks at the nobles.

Wallace stands alone, looking at the moon and stars. Hamish moves up and sits down beside him.

William, Hamish, and Stephen are on their horses, looking down at the road leading into the city. Wallace hands his dagger to Stephen, and unbuckles his broadsword and gives it to Hamish.

Wallace hugs them, first Stephen, then Hamish. Tears roll down Hamish’s cheeks. With one last look at his friends, Wallace rides away.

The house looks quiet as Wallace rides toward it.

Robert the Bruce and Craig stand at the hearth, tense.

They hear the approach of a single horse. The Bruce looks out to see Wallace arriving.

Wallace appears at the doorway into the main room, and stops. Bruce faces him. The eyes of BOTH MEN meet, saying everything. Wallace steps into the room. He sees something flicker onto Bruce’s face -- shame -- just as henchmen in the rafters drop a weighted net and it envelopes Wallace. English soldiers spring from the closets, run down the stairs, and tumble over him, ripping at his clothes, searching as if broadswords might spring from his boots.

They bind Wallace hand and foot. He stares at Robert the Bruce, who averts his eyes. The soldiers hurry Wallace out the back, where others are bringing up horses. Robert grabs the English Captain of the soldiers.

The Captain looks at Bruce the way the High Priest must have looked at Judas, and leaves.

Robert the Bruce spots something on the floor that must have fallen from Wallace’s clothes as they grabbed him; Bruce lifts the white handkerchief, and sees the familiar thistle embroidered on it.

A procession of heavily armed English soldiers winds its way toward London, Wallace strapped to an unsaddled horse, his head bare to the sun. Country people come out to jeer...

A thrown rock careens off Wallace’s check; rotten fruit slaps his shirt. His lips are so parched they bleed.

Edward inspects his father, who lies semiconscious in bed, breath rattling ominously in his chest. Edward approves.

The Princess hurries up to her husband as he leaves the king’s bedroom, and follows him down the hall to his own.

With a faint smile, he shuts his bedroom door in her face.

The Bruce is incredulous, yelling at Craig.

Wallace stands in medieval restraints worthy of Hannibal Lecter. Before him are six scarlet-robed royal magistrates.

We PUSH IN on the iron mask that binds his face. We can only see his eyes -- but they are bright.

The stone prison, and the wretched stone section known to this day as the Wallace Tower.

Wallace is alone in his cell, still in the garish restraints. We can only see his eyes, as he prays.

The jailer obeys. The Princess can barely contain her shock at the sight of Wallace; the jailers snatch him upright.

Reluctantly the jailers shuffle out of the cell, but they can still see her back and hear her. Looking at Wallace’s eyes through the mask, she can’t quite hold back her tears -- dangerous tears, that threaten to say too much. Wallace tries to distract her.

She wants to plead, she wants to scream. She can’t stop the tears. And the jailers are watching.

She almost goes too far now, pulling closer to him -- but she doesn’t care. She whispers, pleading...

She pulls out a hidden vial, and whispers...

On the verge of hysteria, she presses the vial to the air hole at his mouth and pours in the drug. The jailers, seeing suspicious movement, shift inside the cell; she backs up, her eyes wide, full of love and goodbye. From inside the mask, he watches her go. When the door CLANGS shut, he spits the purple drug out through the mouth hole.

Longshanks lies helpless, his body racked with consumption. Edward sits against the wall, watching him die, glee in his eyes. The Princess enters, and marches to the bedside.

Longshanks shakes his head.

The king can’t speak. But hatred still glows in his eyes. The princess looks at her husband.

She leans down and grabs the dying king by the hair. The guards flanking the door start forward but the Princess’s eyes flare at them with more fire than even Longshanks once showed -- and the guards back off. She leans down and hisses to Longshanks, so softly that even Edward can’t hear...

She lets go of the old king. He sags like an empty sack back onto his satin pillows. Without even a look at her husband she strides out of the room, with the rattling breath of the dying king rasping the air like a saw.

The crowd is festive; hawkers sell roast chickens, and beer from barrels. Royal horsemen arrive, dragging Wallace strapped to a wooden litter. As they cut him loose and lead him through the crowd, the people begin to jeer and throw things at him: chicken bones, rocks, empty tankards.

We see a former English soldier, one of those who fled in terror at the battle of Stirling, lift a stone from the street and hurl it; it cracks against Wallace’s cheek. Wallace’s eyes capture the soldier, and hold him, piercing his soul. The soldier looks away in shame, even as the rest of the crowd jeers more.

Grim magistrates prod Wallace and he climbs the execution platform. On the platform are a noose, a dissection table with knives in plain view, and a chopping block with an enormous axe. Wallace sees it all.

He emphasizes “mercy” by pointing to the axe. Wallace is pale, and trebles -- but he shakes his head. The CROWD grows noisier as they put the noose around Wallace’s neck...

We INTERCUT:

-- THE PRINCESS, in helpless agony, hearing the DISTANT NOISE from her room in the palace...

-- Hamish and Stephen, disguised as peasants among the crowd, helpless too, but there, as if to shoulder some of the pain.

-- Longshanks, rattling, coughing blood, as Edward watches.

-- Robert the Bruce paces along the walls of his castle in Scotland. His eyes are haunted; he grips the embroidered handkerchief that belonged to Wallace.

In the SCORE, AMAZING GRACE, wailed on bagpipes, carries through all that happens now... Ties hand and foot, Wallace is strangling. The Magistrate watches coldly; even when the executioner gives him a look that says they’re about to go too far, he prolongs the moment; then the Magistrate nods and the executioner cuts the rope. Wallace slams to the platform; the Magistrate leans to him.

With great effort, Wallace rises to his knees. The Magistrate assumes a formal posture and offers the cloak. Wallace struggles all the way to his feet.

The executioners slam Wallace onto his back on the table, spread his arms and legs, and tie each to a crank. Goaded by the crowd, they pull the ropes taut. They crowd grows quiet enough to hear the groaning of Wallace’s limbs. Hamish and Stephen feel it in their own bodies.

Wallace shakes his head. The executioners cut off his clothes, take hot irons from a fire box. The crowd grows silent; we see them, not Wallace, as the irons are touched to his body, but we hear the burning of flesh. Then the Magistrate signals; Wallace wants to say something.

Everyone hears; Hamish smiles, even through his tears. Rebuffed, the Magistrate nods to the executioners, who lift the terrible instruments of dissection.

We are spared seeing the cutting: we are ON WALLACE’S FACE as the disembowelment begins. The Magistrate leans in beside him.

The crowd can’t hear the magistrate but they know the procedure, and they goad Wallace, chanting...

Wallace’s eyes roll to the magistrate, who signals QUIET!

SILENCE. Hamish and Stephen weep, whisper, pray...

HAMISH, AND STEPHEN Mercy, William... Say Mercy...

Wallace’s eyes flutter, and clear. He fights through the pain, struggles for one last deep breath, and screams...

The shout RINGS through the town. Hamish hears it. The Princess hears it, at her open window, and touches her tummy, just showing the first signs of her pregnancy. Longshanks and his son seem to hear; the cry STILL ECHOES as if the wind could carry it through the ends of Scotland;

and Robert the Bruce, on the walls of his castle, looks up sharply, as if he has heard...

THE CROWD, WALLACE’S POV

He sees Hamish, eyes brimming, face glowing...

SLOW MOTION - THE AXE

begins to drop.

WALLACE’S POV

In the last half-moment of his life, when he has already stepped into the world beyond this one, he glimpses someone standing at Hamish’s shoulder. She is beautiful, smiling, serene.

She is Marion.

His face has changed. He is standing AT THE OPEN GRAVE WHERE MARION LAY, the headstone carved with the thistle still there. He holds the handkerchief. As he tucks it into his own pocket, and we MOVE IN on his eyes, we realize the VOICE OVER belongs to him.

His head was set on London bridge, where passerby were invited to jeer at the man who had caused so much fear in England. (beat) His arms and legs were sent to the four corners of Britain as warning.

We see the people, as the remains of William Wallace are displayed in a box. The faces of the young men are fiery.

More young men put on tartans, take up their weapons, and gather into fighting units. Among them is Hamish, carrying a shield emblazoned with a cocked arm holding a broadsword, and the words “For Freedom.”

Robert the Bruce, flanked by the noblemen and the banners of the Scottish throne, and backed by a ragtag army of Scots, sits on his horse and looks down at the English generals in their martial finery. The English are haughty, victorious, at the head of their colorful, polished army, awaiting the ceremony of submission from Scotland’s new king.

FROM BELOW, ON THE OPEN PLANE - DAY

The Scots -- the remains of William Wallace’s army -- look so ragged and defeated that it hardly seems worth the wait. One ENGLISH COMMANDER turns and jokes with another...

UP ON THE HILL, Robert the Bruce sits on his horse, and waits. He looks down at the English generals, at their banners, their army. He looks down the ranks at his own.

He sees Hamish. Stephen. Old MacClannough is there, his eyes watery, his weapon sharp. The Scottish bride Lord Bottoms took is there, among the ragtag archers, her husband beside her. Robert knows none of them -- yet he knows them all.

Old Craig, among the other Scottish nobles mounted beside the Bruce, grows impatient.

But Robert holds something -- uncurling his fist, he looks at the thistle handkerchief that belonged to Wallace. The nobles start to rein their horses toward the English.

Robert the Bruce tucks the handkerchief safely behind his breastplate, and turns to the Highlanders who line the hilltop with him. He takes a long breath, and shouts --

Bruce’s broadsword slides from its scabbard. A cry rises from Highlanders, as from a tomb, rising --

The chant builds to a frenzy; it shakes the earth. The Scottish nobles can scarcely believe it; the English are shocked even more. Robert the Bruce, king of Scotland, spurs his horse into full gallop toward the English, and the Highlanders hurl their bodies down the hill, ready to run through hell itself. In SLOW MOTION we see their faces...

And OVER THIS,, we hear the voice of William Wallace...

WALLACE’S VOICE In the year of our Lord 1314, patriots of Scotland, starving and outnumbered, charged the fields of Bannockburn. They fought like warrior poets. They fought like Scotsmen. And won their freedom. Forever.

On Wallace’s army behind Robert the Bruce, charging down the hill to victory and glory, we slow to FREEZE FRAME and hear their chant, huge, echoing...