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Braveheart (1995)

by Randall Wallace.
Final draft.

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Fade in:

EXT. The SCOTTISH countryside - day

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...

Voice over

I will tell you of William Wallace.

Ext. MAcandrews farm - day

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.

Voice over (contíd)

Historians from England will say I am a liar.  But history is 
written by those who have hung heroes.

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


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.  Scotlandís 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...

Ext. SCOTTISH farm - day

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.


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...


...and William.

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


Told ya to stay.


I finished my chores.  Where we goiní?


MacAndrewsí.  He was supposed to visit when the truce was over.

They ride on, over the lush hills.

EXT. the Macandrews farm - day

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


Stay here.

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

at the bard - day

The Wallaces ride up, looking around.


MacAndrews! ...MacAndrews!?

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

int. the barn

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...


Hanging from the rafters of the barn are thirty Scottish noblemen 
and thirty pages, their faces purple and contorted by the 
strangulation hanging, their tongues protruding.

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 commonerís dress, like theirs...



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


William!  Get out of here!


Why would MacAndrews make so many scarecrows?

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


R-- real!!!....Ahhhhhgggg!...

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 Williamís father and older brother to 
fight their way to him.


William!  William!

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.


Murderiní English bastards.

cut to:

ext. wallace farmhouse - night

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...


Young William is in nightmarish sleep.  He mumbles in smothered 
terror; he twitches.  We see


In the blue-grays of his dream, William stands at the door of the 
barn, gazing at the hanged knights.  We WHIP PAN to their faces, 
garish, horrible...  Then one of the heads moves and its eyes 
open!  William wants to run, but he canít get his body to 
respond... and the hanging nobleman, his bloated tongue still 
bursting through his lips, moans...



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


A dozen strong, tough farmers have huddled.  Red-headed CAMPBELL, 
scarred and missing fingers, is stirred up, while his friend 
MacCLANNOUGH is reluctant.


Wallace is right!  We fight Ďem!


Every nobleman who had any will to fight was at that meeting.

malcolm wallace

So itís up to us!  We show them we wonít lie down to be their 


We canít beat an army, not with the fifty farmers we can raise!

Malcolm wallace

We donít have to beat Ďem, just fight Ďem.  To show Ďem weíre not 
dogs, but men.

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 wallace

They have a camp here.  We attack them at sunset tomorrow.  Give 
us all night to run home.

EXT. wallace farm - day

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


William, youíre staying here.


I can fight.

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


Aye.  But itís our wits that make us men.  I love ya, boy.  You 

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


Itís 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...


Theyíre coming!


How man?


three, maybe more!




Theyíre English soldiers, ainít they?


With your father and brother gone, theyíll kill us and burn the 


Itís up to us, Hamish!

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


Not yet!  Here he comes, be ready!

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 the sun goes down on 
their play.


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


Wanna stay with me tonight?


I wanna have supper waitiní.


Weíll get those English pigs tomorrow.


Aye, weíll get Ďem.

EXT. HOUSE - Night

Williamís face appears at the window, looking toward


of trees and heather, where there is no sign of life.

INT. the house - night

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.

Ext. farmhouse - dawn

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

INt. farmhouse - 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 fatherís bedroom and sees the undisturbed bed.  He 
moves on, passing the door of his brotherís room, also unrumpled.


He finds the two cold bowls of stew, beside the exhausted candle.  
He spoons up his own cold porridge, and eats alone.

EXT. house - day

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


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... Come down here, lad.

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


Itís now surrounded by horses, wagons, and neighbors.  The 
undertaker arrives in his hearse.

Int. the shed - day

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 donít 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.

EXt. Graveside - day

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 Wallaceís 
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 Williamís age; sheís a beautiful girl with 
long auburn hair, and she clings to her own motherís hand, as if 
the open graves are the mouths of death and might suck her 
parents in too.


...Restare in pacem eternis, Amen.

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 gravediggers 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 Williamís as the gravediggers 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 
motherís 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.


You must be the relative of the deceased.   ...William, this is 
you Uncle Argyle.

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...


You were wise to hurry.

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


Someone dead from this household?


We just had a funeral, isnít that what it means in England as 


What it means in England--and in Scotland too--is that rebels 
have forfeited their lands.  We were ambushed last night.  But 
the Scots dragged their dead away.


My brother and nephew perished two days ago, when their hay cart 
turned over.


Then weíll just have a peek at the wounds.

(to his men)

Dig Ďem up!


Theyíve been sanctified and buried in the holy rites of Godís 
church, and any hand that disturbs them now takes on eternal 
damnation.  So please--do it.

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


Funeralís over.  Go home.

INT. the kitchen - night

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


Not that spoon, that oneís for soup.  Dip away from you.  And 
donít slurp.

Argyle sits down and begins to dine with the boy.


Weíll sleep here tonight.  Youíll come home with me.  Weíll let 
the house, and the lands too; plenty of willing neighbors.


I donít want to leave.


Didnít want your father to die either, did ya?  But it happened.

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


Did the priest say anything about the Resurrection?  Or was it 
all about Judgment?


It was in Latin, sir.


Non loquis Latinum?  You donít speak Latin?  We shave have to fix 
that, wonít we?  (beat)  (beat)

Argyle (contíd)

Did he give the poetic benediction?  The Lord bless thee and keep 
thee?  Patris Benefactum et--


...It was Malcolmís favorite.

INT. williamís bedroom - night

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.


Good night, Uncle.

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.

INT. the kitchen - night

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...


ďThe Lord bless thee and keep thee...Ē

Tears of grief spill down the old manís cheeks.

Int. the hanging barn - In williamís dream

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; 
theyíre 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 boyís weeping eyes they put their heads into the 
nooses, and hoist themselves up.  Williamís grief explodes; his 
tears erupt and 


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


But his uncle is not there either.  Then William hears a strange, 
haunting sound-distant, carried by the wind.  He moves to the 
window and sees only moonlight.  He opens the window and hears it 
more clearly: bagpipes.  William lights a candle and throws open 
the door.  Wind rushes in, blowing out his candle.  But he hears 
the pipes, louder in the wind.

EXT. Wallace House - Night

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.

EXT. Graveyard - night

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 ďAmazing Grace.Ē

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...


What are they doing?


Saying goodbye in their own way--in outlawed tartans, with 
outlawed pipes, playing outlawed tunes.

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


Your Daddy and I, we saw our own father buried like this, dead 
from fighting the English.

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


First learn to use this.

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


Then I will teach you to use this.

With an expertís 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...

EXT. wallace farm - day

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.



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

Voice over

Twelve years later, Longshanks supervised the wedding of his 
eldest son, also named Edward, who would succeed him to the 

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 hawkís nose and a 
snakeís 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.

Voice over

As bride for his son, Longshanks had chosen a relative of his 
rival, the king of France.

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 fatherís stare.


It was widely whispered that for the Princess to conceive, 
Longshanks would have to do the honors himself.  That may have 
been what he had in mind all along.

The ceremony concluding, attendants lift back the brideís 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.


Having seen to his obligations to provide for a successor, 
Longshanks set about his fondest business--to crush Scotland, and 
turn his power against France...


Longshanksí narrow finger jabs Scotland.


Scotland!  Scot-land!

We are INT. ROYAL ENGLISH PALACE - DAY.  Longshanks is being 
listened to by his advisors, all in the outrageous splendor of 
royal military dress, and all deathly afraid of him.


The French will grovel to anyone with strength!  But how will 
they credit our strength when we cannot rule the whole of our own 

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


Where is my son?


your pardon, Mílord, he asked me to come in his stead.

Longshanksí eyes expand in fury; it is frightening to see.


I sent for him--and the little coward send you?!


shall I leave, Mílord?


If he wants his queen to rule, then you stay and learn how!  I 
will deal with him.

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


Nobles are the key to the Scottish door.  Grant their nobles land 
here in England.  Give our own nobles estates in the north.  Make 
them too greedy to oppose us.

One OLD ADVISOR speaks up hesitantly.


Sire...  Our nobles will be reluctant to relocate.  New lands 
mean new taxes, and they are taxed already for our war in France.

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


Perhaps itís time to reinstitute an old custom.  Grant them prima 
noctes, ďFirst night.Ē  When any common girl inhabiting their 
lands is married, our lords shall have sexual rights to her on 
the night of her wedding.  That should fetch just the kind of 
lords we want in Scotland.

Int. prince edwardís royal apartments - day

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.


What is it?!


you directed me to report to you the moment the kingís conference 
was ended.


So I did!  And what was so important about it?


Scotland.  He intends--

But Edward and his friend are fencing again, the clanging of 
their blunted swords so loud that she canít hear herself.


He intends to grant--

Edward loses his weapon again, and whirls on her.


Shut up, would you!  How can I concentrate?!


...His majesty was quite keen that you should understand--


All so very boring!  He wants me to learn to fight too, so let me 
do it!

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.


Stop there.

She stops, but does not raise her eyes.


Do you disapprove of Phillip?

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


(barely audible)

No, Mílord.


Look at me.  I said LOOK AT ME!

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

The Princessís eyes quiver...but she does not look away.


Now, my flower, do you understand?


Yes.  I had thought that...I was loathsome to you.  Perhaps I am.  
If I may be excused, Mílord.


you may.

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


Donít worry, míLady, it is my royal responsibility to breed.  And 
I assure you, when the time comes, I shall...manage.

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


Now in Edinburgh were gathered the council of Scottish nobles...

ESTablishing council - day

The picturesque heart of Scotland, with its CASTLE on a fairytale 
plateau above the Firth of Forth.

INT. edinburgh castle - day

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.


Among these was Robert, the 17th Earl of Bruce, a leading 
contender for the crown of Scotland.

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.


Young Robert, we are honored--


My father hears that Longshanks has granted prima noctes.


Clearly meant to draw more of his supporters here.


The Balliol clan has endorsed the right, licking Longshanksí 
boots so he will support their claim to the throne.  If we make a 
show of opposition, the commoners will favor us.


It is too soon to step out alone.  My father believes we must 
lull Longshanks into confidence, by neither supporting his decree 
nor opposing it.


A wise plan.  And how is your father?  We have missed him at the 


He strained his leg so that it pains him to ride.  But he sends 
his greetings-and says that I speak for all the Bruces.  And for 

Ext. Scottish Village, At the edge of town - day

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 Williamís 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.


Hey boy!  You hunt this bird?

Williamís eyes fix themselves on the soldier.


Itís against the law for Scots to own bows.  You shot this bird?

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


I hit it in the head.  With a rock.

They donít believe that--but they canít 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 

Among those noticing Williamís 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.  Sheís 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.


Miz MacDougal.  You look well.

Farm Woman

...William?  Itís William Wallace, back home!  --Have you met my 

The daughter mentioned is missing teeth.  William nods to her.  
Itís 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 
Williamsí feet.

He looks up to see on of Marionís suitors--the broad, muscled 
young man who has just tossed the stone in Williamís way.  Now 
everybodyís 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 wonít admit it, or be put off 
from the challenge.  He points to the huge stone.


Test of manhood.


you win.


(blocks him)

Call it a test of soldiery, then.  The English wonít let us train 
with weapons, so we train with stones.


The test of a soldier is not in his arm.  Itís here.

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


No.  Itís here.

With a sudden movement, he slams his fist into Williamís 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.


A contest, then.

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.


I still say this is no test.  A catapult can throw a stone 
farther than a man can.


That depends on the man.

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 Williamís mark by a couple of feet.  People laugh and 
whistle.  William nods, impressed.


Can you do it when it matters?  As it matters in battle?  Could 
you crush a man with that throw?


I could crush you like a roach.

William walks to the dent made by Hamishís throw.


Then do it.  Come, do it.

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.


Youíll move


I will not.

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

Farmer stewart

Thatís not fair!


Heís tired, he should get 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 Williamís head, and 
buries itself halfway into the earth behind him.  William never 
flinches.  The people cheer.


Brave show!

Hamish is miffed; itís like William won.


I threw longer than last time!


An ox is strong, but not clever.


An ox is stupid enough to just stand in one place.


Thatís not the point.

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.


that is.

Everybody cheers and laughs!  They surround William.


A fine display, young Wallace!

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


Good to see you again.


I shouldía remembered the eggs.

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.


Would you honor me with a dance?

Sheís thrilled to accept; they begin to dance.


Youíve taken over your fatherís farm?


They say he died long ago.  Fighting the English.


He died in an accident, with my brother.  Their cart turned over.

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.


I have come to claim the right of prima noctes.  As the lord of 
these lands, I will bless this marriage by taking the bride into 
my bed on the first night of her union.

Stewart, father of the BRIDE, lunges forward.


No, by God!

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.


It is my noble right.

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 friendís 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.

Ext. The wallace farmhouse - Magic Hour

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 doesnít seem to notice.

ext. the Macclannough house - magic hour

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.


Good evening, sir.  May I speak with your daughter?

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


Marion... Would you like to go for a ride on this fine evening?


The boyís insane!


Itís good Scottish weather, Madam, the rain is falliní straight 


She absolutely may not, sheíll--Marion!

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.


Your father doesnít like me, does he?


Itís not you.  He dislikes that youíre a Wallace.  He just 
says...the Wallaces donít seem to live for very long.


thank you for accepting.


Thank you for inviting.


Iíll invite you again, but your mother thinks Iím crazy.


You are.  And Iíll come again.

He lingers; he wants to say something, or maybe he just doesnít 
want the moment to end.  Finally he spurs the horse.

Ext. The MacClannough house - night

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 otherís 
eyes... but the door is snatched open so quickly by her mother 
that there is not time for a kiss.


Marion, come in!

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


Marion, come in!

She still hesitates; he isnít 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.

Ext. Wallace farm - day

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.


Young Wallace--


sir, I know it was strange of me to invite Marion to ride last 
night.  I assure you, I--


MacClannoughís daughter is another matter.  We come to fetch you 
to a meeting.


What kind of meeting?


The secret kind.

William goes back to repairing his roof.


Your father was a fighter.  And a patriot.


I know who my father was.  I came back home to raise crops.  And, 
God willing, a family.  If I can live in peace, I will.

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


If you can keep your intention to stay out of the troubles, you 
may court my daughter.  If you break your intention, Iíll kill 

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

EXT. Macclannough house - night

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 Williamís arms.

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

SCOTTISH highlands - night

Hand in hand through the heather they run, silhouettes along a 
ridge, their breath blowing silver clouds in the moonlight, the 
Scottish wind whipping through their hair.

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


Youíve been here before?


Some nights.  I have dreams.  Mostly dreams I donít want.  I 
started riding at night to fill up my mind so that when I did 
sleep Iíd dream only of the ride and the adventure.


Did it work?


No.  You donít choose your dreams.  Your dreams choose you.

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


I marry you!


I...accept your proposal!


Iím not just saying it!


Nor I!


But I wonít give you up to any nobleman.



You scare me.


I donít want to scare you.  I want to be yours, and you mine.  
Every night like this one.


This night is too beautiful to have again.


I will be with you, like this.  Forever.

They kiss again...

Ext. Lanark village - day

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:


Tonight.  By the trees.

Ext. Marionís house - night

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

Ext. ruins of an ancient church - night

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

Int. the church - night

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; sheís 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.


You have come to pledge, each to the other, before Almighty God.

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.


I will love you my whole life.  You and no other.

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


And I you.  You and no other.  Forever.

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


Agus bhayd lauch... The Lord bless and keep thy love, now and 

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.


I trust him--or Iídía killed him meíself.  A weddiní needs pipes.

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


William and Marion ride the path to the top of the precipice, 
where, in the shelter of the grove, they spend their honeymoon.  
The MUSIC CONTINUES as, still sweaty from their love-making, he 
returns her to her house just before dawn.  She waves from her 
window, as William rides away, as we


ext. Village of Lanark - Day

Itís 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.


Iíve missed you.


Shush.  Itís only been a day.


And itís seemed like forever.


Tonight then.


My parents are growing suspicious!  I canít keep meeting you 
every night!

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.


Then when?



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.  Itís the soldier with the scar, the one whoís been 
staring at her.


Where are you going...lass?


Let go.

A second drunken SOLDIER pipes up.

Soldier #2

Why donít you marry my friend here?  Then Iíll take the first 

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 soldierís 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 manís skull.

Market Women

Wallace Wallace!  William Wallace!

But thereís no time for celebration.  Thereís blood and ale 
everywhere, and the fallen soldiers are yelling...

Fallen soldier

Rebels!  Help!

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

Village folks

Run, William!  Run!

Will sees the horse that pulled the flower cart and throws Marion 
up onto its back.  He slaps the horseís 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 theyíve 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 


What happened?




What girl?!


...on horse.


the girl on the horse!  Stop her!

The shout rings through the village; Marion hears it, and when 
she sees more soldiers at the far end of the lane sheís 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 horseís 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.


reaches the edge of the town and slips into the trees by the 
river; the soldiers are running every which way, but theyíve lost 
him.  Thinking Marionís made it too, William heads deeper into 
the trees.


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


So this is the little whore he was fighting for.

EXT. The grove at the precipice - day

William moves into the shelters of the trees, expecting to see 
Marion.  He doesnít.  He listens; only the rustling of the wind 
through the treetops.



Nothing, except the wind.

INT. Royal magistrateís headquarters - day

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.


One Scot buggers six of us?  Hell to pay when that gets round.


burn the village.


But he is free.  You never catch Ďem in the Highlands.

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


Clans weave that cloth in their own patterns.


So why is this strip concealed?


He fought for you, eh?

ext. town square - day

The Magistrate and his men bring Marion into the village center, 
and tie her to a post of the well.  The townspeople donít want to 
be near the soldiers, but they hang on the fringes of the square, 
too curious to pull away.


An assault on the kingís soldiers is the same as assaulting the 

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

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


Now.  Let this scrapper come to me.

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 Hamishís great shoulders as he tells him 
something that makes William step backwards...

EXT. Lanark village - day

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 HORSEíS SNORT...


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!

EXt. various angles - lanark village - day - the fight

We FAVOR WALLACEíS 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 Wallaceís clothes, but donít catch his 
flesh.  He charges on; his horse LEAPS the barrier as Wallace 
simultaneously swings the broadsword--and heís more than an 
expert:  the tip, at the end of a huge arc, nearly breaks the 
sound barrier and the blade bites through the corporalís 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 Williamís back...But 
Hamish and his father crash into them!  Itís 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.


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 

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

EXt. - in the village - day

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


Donít look surprised!  We knew heíd bring friends!

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

The Magistrate and his men donít 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.


No!  I beg you...mercy!


As the Scots see Wallace, they break off pursuing the English 
soldiers and stop to watch; dragging the Magistrate by his hair, 
Wallace hauls him back into the village square, slams him against 
the well, and stands over him with heaving lungs and wild eyes, 
staring at Marionís murderer.


Please.  Mercy!

Wallaceís eyes shift, falling on


Marionís blood, in a dark dry splash by the wall of the well, the 
stain dripping down onto the dirt of the street.  Wallace spins, 
jerks back the Magistrateís head, and cuts his throat with the 


Silenced by what theyíve just seen and done.  On old Campbellís 
face is a look of reverence, and awe.


Say Grace to God, lads.  Weíve just seen the coming of the 

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.



Williamís 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 
blacksmithís forge, men tend to Campbellís wound...


Pour it straight into the wound.  I know it seems a waste of good 
whiskey, but indulge me.

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


Ah.  Now thatíll clear your sinuses, lads.

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


Well bloody Hell, look at this!  Now itís nothing but a fly 

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--from the next valley!

MacGregor leads his men into the circle of rebels.


We heard about what was happeniní.  And we donít want ya thinkiní 
ya can have your fun without us.


Go home.  Some of us are in this, I canít help that now.  But you 
can help yourselves.  Go home.


Weíll have no homes left when the English garrison at the castle 
comes through to burn us out.

They all look at Wallace.

EXT. English Military stronghold - night

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.

Lord Bottoms

Gather the horses!  Align the infantry!

(grabs a man)

Ride to the Lord Governor in Stirling.  Tell him that I will hang 
five rebels for every good Englishman killed!  FORM FOR MARCH!

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 itís over 
almost without a fight.  Lord Bottoms looks around in 


Stop them... Donít let... Align...

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 Bottomís eye socket and into his brain; but Wallaceís 
hand closes on the archerís 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 


On your way somewhere, Mílord?

Lord bottoms

Murdering bloody bandit!

The point of Wallaceís sword jumps beneath the Lordís chin.


My name is William Wallace.  I am no bandit who hides his face.  
...Find this man a horse.

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.


Give him a horse.

Hamish extends the reins of the Lordís thoroughbred.


Not this horse.  That one.

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


Today we will spare you, and every man who has yielded.  Go back 
to England.  Tell them Scotlandís daughters and her sons are 
yours no more.  Tell them Scotland is free.

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


Wal-lace, Wal-lace, Wal-lace!...

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.

ext. london palace - day

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.


Scottish rebels have routed Lord Bottoms!


I hear.  This Wallace is a bandit, nothing more.

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


You weak little coward!  Stand up!

Longshanks jerks him to his feet.


I go to France to press our rights there!  I leave you to handle 
this little rebellion, do you understand?  DO YOU?!

Longshanks grabs his son by the throat.


And turn yourself into a man.

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


Get away from me!

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--


Convene my military council!

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...


They say this Wallace killed thirty men to avenge the death of 
his woman.  I hope your husband goes to Scotland.  Then youíll be 
a widow.

int. Bruceís castle - bedchamber - night

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 Robertís spirit.  He lies on his stomach, turned 
away from her on the bed.  Stirring, she kisses his neck; but he 
doesnít respond.


I wanted to please you.


You did.

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


In Lanark village, the kingís soldiers killed a girl.  Her lover 
fought his way through the soldiers and killed the magistrate.

She looks at him blankly.


He rebelled.  He rebelled.  He acted.  He fought!  Was it rage?  
Pride?  Love?  Whatever it was, he has more of it than I.



You might have lied.


Iím too arrogant to lie.

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--


Robert wills himself forward, and places the candle on a table in 
the center of the room.  A SHUFFLE in the dark; then moving into 
the light is a LEPER whose once-noble features are decaying with 
the disease.  Isolated in his disfiguration, he looks at his 
visitor--his son--with the eyes of the condemned.  Young Robert 
forces himself not to look away.

Robert the bruce

Father.  A rebellion has begun.

the leper

Under whom?


A commoner named William Wallace.

the leper

A commoner?  So no one leads Scotland?

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

The leper

You will embrace this rebellion.  Support it, from our lands in 
the north.  I will gain English favor by condemning it and 
ordering it opposed from our lands in the south.  Whichever way 
the tide runs, we will rise.


This Wallace.  He doesnít even have a knighthood.  But he fights 
with passion, and he is clever.  He inspires men.

the leper

You admire him.  Uncompromising men are easy to admire.  He has 
courage.  So does a dog.  But you must understand this:  Edward 
Longshanks is the most ruthless king ever to sit on the throne of 
England, and none of us, and nothing of Scotland, will survive 
unless we are as ruthless, more ruthless, than he.

Young Bruce rises heavily, and moves to the door.

The leper

Press your case to the nobles.  They will choose who rules 

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

Ext. Scotland - montage - day

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

--Wallaceís 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.

EXt. wallace lands - night

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


Ah, William... I am so sorry.

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

Ext. Underbrush near marionís grave - dusk

We open on Marionís 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 Marionís 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 Hamishís horse, hidden among trees, and gallops to 

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 Marionís shrouded body to his chest.

Ext. Secret grove on the precipice - night

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 Williamís face.


Iíll wait...back there.


Hamish, I...thank...

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


William sits looking at the new grave, covered with leaves--
completely hidden.  He touches his hand to the earth.

Ext. woods - by the stream - night

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 Marionís love haunts us...

EXt. woods - encampment - night

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.


Whatíre ya doiní?




Does it hurt?


What do we do when Longshanks sends his whole northern army 
against us?  They have heavy cavalry.  Armored horses, that shake 
the very ground.  Theyíll ride right over us.

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


We make spears.  A hundred spears.  Fourteen feet long.



sentry (O.S.)

Volunteers coming in!

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.

recruit (FAUDRON)

William Wallace?  We have come to fight and die for you!


Stand up, man, Iím not the Pope.


I am Faudron!  My sword is yours!  And I brought you this tarta--

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


We checked them for arms.

Carefully, Faudron pulls out a beautiful tartan scarf, and 
replaces Wallaceís tattered old one.


Itís your family tartan!  My wife wove it with her own hands.


Thank her for me.

A loud voice interrupts...


Him?  That canít be William Wallace!  Iím 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...


All right, Father, Iíll ask him!

(to William)

If I risk my neck for you, will I get a chance to kill 


Is your Poppa a ghost--or do you converse with God Almighty?


In order to find his equal, and Irishman is forced to talk to 


Yes, Father!...

(to Wallace)

The Almighty says donít change the subject, just answer the 
fookiní question.


Insane Irish--

Stephen whips a dagger from his sleeve and puts it at Campbellís 


Smart enough to get a dagger past your guards, old man.

Wallace jerks his sword to the Irishmanís throat, and grins.


thatís my friend, Irishman.  And the answerís yes.  You fight for 
me, you kill the English.

Stephen grins, and happily tucks away the dagger.


Excellent!  Stephen is my name.  Iím the most wanted man on the 
Emerald Isle.  Except Iím not on the Emerald Isle of course, 
moreís the pity.


A common thief.


A patriot!

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

ext. scottish countryside - day

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.


Scotsmen, Sire!  Headed west!


Theyíve blundered at last!  After them!

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...


Weíre in a bog!


here, itís firm this way--

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 

Ext. scottish woods - day

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 Dolecroftís 
plumed hat.  Wallace is leading them, traveling with his heavy 
sheathed broadsword across his shoulders.


Stop here and rest.

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

Int. stirling castle - day

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


Another ambush!  My God!  ...What about our infiltrator?


He has already joined them, Mílord.

ext. Scottish woods - night

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!


Marion! it you?

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


Iím dreaming.


yes, you are.  And you must wake.


I donít want to wake.  I want to stay with you.


And I with you.  But you must wake.


I need you so much!  I love you!


Wake up, William.  Wake up!

Hamishís voice

Wake up, William!...


Wake up!...

William clutches at Marion, but his arms canít enclose her.


lying on his new tartan, in camp, with Hamish shaking him, 
Williamís arms clutched empty to his chest.


William!  Hounds!

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


We must run in different directions!


We donít split up!


They used hounds on us in Ireland, itís the only way!


Heís right, Hamish!  Campbell!  Divide them and run!

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.


Split again!

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.  Wallaceís group is down 
to Hamish, Stephen, and Faudron.


No matter how we go, they follow.  They have our scent.  My 


Run!  You must not be caught!

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 
Wallaceís eyes.  He stops, gasping.


We canít stop!


Theyíve tricked us.


Whatís the crazy man saying, Lord?


The dogs have a scent.  My scent.  Someone must have given it to 


Who would do such a thing?



Wallace pulls out his dagger...


bark frantically now; they smell a kill; they tug so hard at 
their leashes that the handlers are almost dragged along.


Be ready!  We have them!

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 Williamís own, tucked into his shirt.

Lord Pickering

Damnation!  Damnation!

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

lord pickering

After him!  Get them going again!


Their noses are drowned in new blood, theyíll follow nothing now!

And just as the realization hits Pickering that he canít pursue 
Wallace any further, a cloaked figure mixed in among his men 
leans in from behind him to whisper...

Stephen of ireland

The Almighty says for you to give His regards to the Devil.

Pickeringís eyes go wide, then roll back as Stephenís 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.

Pickeringís 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.  Pickeringís 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!


I thought I was dead when ya pulled that dagger!


No English lord would trust an Irishman!


Letís kill him anyway.

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


Two men are talking in A VILLAGE...


...and William Wallace killed fifty men!  Fifty, if it was one!

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


A hundred men!  With his own sword!  He cut a through the English 

The tale is repeated IN A TAVERN...


--Moses through the Red Sea!  Hacked off two hundred heads!

Drinker #2

Two hundred?!


Saw it with my own eyes.

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).


When the king returns he will bury them in those new clothes.  
Scotland is in chaos.  Your husband is secretly sending an army 


How do you know this?


Last night I slept with a member of the War Council.


He shouldnít be telling secrets in bed.


Ah, Oui!  Englishmen donít know what a tongue is for.

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


This Scottish rebel...Wallace?  He fights to avenge a woman?


A magistrate wished to capture him, and found he had a secret 
lover, so he cut the girlís throat to tempt Wallace to fight--and 
fight he did.

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


Knowing his passion for his lost love, they next plotted to take 
him by desecrating the graves of his father and brother and 
setting an ambush at the grave of his wife.  He fought his way 
through the trap and carried her body to a secret place!  Now 
that is romance, Oui?


...I wouldnít know.

Ext. Scottish Highlands - day

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.


The English are advancing an army toward Stirling!


Do the nobles rally?


Robert the Bruce and most of the others will not commit to war!  
But ward has spread and Highlanders are coming down on their own, 
by the hundreds--by the thousands!

Ext. road - day

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


Wallace!  Itís William Wallace!  God bless Wallace and Scotland!

At a crossroads, more of Wallaceís 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.

Ext. stirling field - day

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.


It sounds like twenty thousand!


The scouts say it is ten.


And we have but two!


are wearing padded leather shirts, and carry pikes and daggers.  
As through the mists they see the numbers arrayed against them, a 
YOUNG SOLDIER tugs at a grizzled VETERAN.

young soldier

So many!

scottish veteran

the nobles will negotiate.  If they deal, they send us home.  If 
not, we charge.  When we are all dead and they can call 
themselves brave, they withdraw.

young soldier

I didnít come to fight so they could own more lands that I could 
work for them!


Nor did I.  Not against these odds!

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.


Stop!  Men!  Do not flee!  Not now!  Wait until we have 


They wonít stop--and how could blame them?

Then, riding into the mob of me, comes Wallace, followed by his 
friends.  Heís striking, charismatic, his powerful arms bare, his 
chest covered not in armor but a commonerís 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...

Young soldier

William Wallace?


Couldnít be.

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.


The Almighty says this must be a fashionable fight, itís drawn 
the finest people.


Where is thy salute?


For presenting yourselves on this battlefield, I give you thanks.


This is our army.  To join it, you give homage.


I give homage to Scotland.  And if this is your army, why does it 

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 anyoneís imagination.

He glances at his friends:  Campbell, Hamish, Stephen.  Theyíve 
got no suggestions, theyíre just as awed as he is.

Scottish veteran

We didnít come to fight for them!

shouts from mob

Home!  The English are too many!

Wallace raises his hand, and the army falls silent.


Sons of Scotland!...  I am William Wallace!


William Wallace is seven feet tall!


Yes, I have heard!  He kills men by the hundreds!  And if he were 
here, he would consume the English with fireballs from his eyes, 
and bolts of lightning from his ass!

Many laugh--all get the point.


I am William Wallace.  And my enemies do not go away.  I saw out 
good nobles hanged.  My wife... I am William Wallace.  And I see 
a whole army of my countrymen, here in defiance of tyranny.  You 
have come to fight as free men.  And free men you are!  What will 
you do with freedom?  Will you fight?


Two thousand, against ten?  We will run--and live!


Yes.  Fight and you may die.  Run and you will live, at least 
awhile.  And dying in your bed many years from now, would you be 
willing to trade all the days from this day to that, for one 
change to come back here as young men, and tell our enemies that 
they make take our lives, but they will never take our freedom?

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


Look!  The English comes to barter with our nobles for castles 
and titles.  And our nobles will not be in the front of the 


No!  They will not!

He dismounts, and draws his sword.


And I will.

Slowly, the chant begins, and builds...


Wal-lace!  Wal-lace!  WAL-LACE!

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.


Fine speech.  Now what do we do?


Bring out our spearmen and set them in the field.

Campbell, Hamish and Stephen ride off.  Mornay reins his horse 
over, lifts the reins of Wallaceís 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.


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


Mornay.  Lochlan.  Inverness.


Cheltham.  This is William Wallace


Here are the Kingís terms.  Lead this army off the field, and he 
will give you each estates in Yorkshire, including hereditary 
title, from which you will pay him an annual--


I have an offer for you.


...From which you will pay the King an annual duty...

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


You disrespect a banner of truce?!


From his king?  Absolutely.  Here are Scotlandís terms.  Lower 
your flags and march straight to England, stopping at every 
Scottish home you pass to beg forgiveness for a hundred years of 
theft, rape, and murder.  Do that, and your men shall live.  Do 
it not, and every one of you will die today.

Cheltham barks at the Scottish nobles...


You are outmatched!  You havenít even any cavalry!  In two 
centuries no army has won without it!


Iím not finished.  Before we let you leave, your commander must 
cross that bridge, stand before this army, put his head between 
his legs, and kiss his own ass.

The outraged Englishman gallops back to his lines.


Iíd say that was rather less cordial that he was used to.


Be ready, and do exactly as I say.

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.


Wish I could see the noble lordís face when he tells him.


The husky English commanderís blood boils from Chelthamís report.  
Before he can respond, they see WALLACEíS SPEARMEN taking up a 
position on the far side of the bridge.  Suddenly the Scots turn 
and lift their kilts and moon the English!


Insolent bastard!  Full attack!  Give no quarter!  And I want 
this Wallaceís heart brought to me on a plate!

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

EXt. the field below stirling castle - day

The English army moves forward toward the bridge.  Itís 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.


Things look terrible.  Stephen turns to William.


The Lord tell me He can get me out of this mess.  But Heís pretty 
sure youíre fooked.


Talmadge sees the Scots doing nothing.


Amateurs!  They do not even contest us!  Send across the 


Mílord, the bridge is so narrow--


The Scots just stand in their formations!  Our cavalry will ride 
them down like grass.  Get the infantry across so they can finish 
the slaughter!

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


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.  Itís 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.


Steady!  Hold...hold... NOW!

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 itís 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.


can see it; but worse is the SOUND, the SCREAMS OF DYING MEN AND 
HORSES, carried to him across the battlefield.


are protected, behind a literal wall of fallen chargers and 
knights.  Wallace draws his broadsword and leads his swordsmen 
out onto the field, attacking the knights that are still alive.  
Most are off their horses; a few have managed to pull up their 
mounts.  Wallace and his men are so much more mobile than the 
knights; the field runs with blood.  Wallace faces Talmadge in 
the distance.


Here I am, English coward!  Come get me!!

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


Press the men across!


But Mílord!

Talmadge himself gallops forward.



WALLACE smiles.  He grabs Hamish.


Tell Mornay to ride to the flank and cross upstream.  Wait!  Tell 
him to be sure the English see him ride away!

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.


If he waits much longer--

Hamish hurries up.


Ride around and ford behind them!


We should not divide our forces!


Wallace says do it!  And he says for you to let the English see 



They shall think we run away.

Mornay leads his riders away.


sees the Scottish nobles ride off, and shouts to Cheltham...


See!  Every Scot with a horse is fleeing!  Hurry!  Hurry!

He drives half his army across the river.


lifts his sword.


For Scotland!

He charges down the hill...


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

The English leaders are stunned by the ferocious attack.


Press reinforcements across!

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.


The nobles look back with grudging admiration.


Heís taking the bloody bridge!  The English canít get across!  
Heís evened the odds at one stroke!

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.


Use the archers!


Theyíre too close, weíll shoot out own men!


the Scots are carving their way through the English soldiers; 
nothing can stop them.  Wallace is relentless; each time he 
swings, a head flies, or an arm.  Hamish and Stephen fight beside 
him, swinging the broadsword with both hands.  Old Campbell loses 
his shield in the grappling; an English swordsman whacks at him 
and takes off his left hand, but Campbell batters him to the 
ground with his right, and stabs him.  Reaching the English side 
of the bridge, the Scots begin to build a barrier with the dead 

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 


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


We are still five thousand!  Rally!

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.


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.


Wal-lace!  Wal-lace!  Wal-lace!


William kneels before one of Scotlandís ancient elders, who lifts 
a silver sword and dubs Williamís shoulders.


I knight thee Sir William Wallace.

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--


Wal-lace, Wal-lace!!

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 wonít last; in the blink of an 
eye she is gone, and Wallace hears the chant, and fingers the 
cloth she gave him.

Int. scottish council - day

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...


Does anyone know his politics?


No.  But his weight with the commoners could unbalance 
everything.  The Balliols will kill his ass, so we must.

A court STEWARDS steps in and formally announces...


Lords of Scotland:  Sir William Wallace!

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 


Sir William.  In the name of God, we declare and appoint thee 
High Protector of Scotland!  And thy captains as aides-de-camp!

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...


Sir William!!  Inasmuch as you and your captains hail from a 
region long known to support the Balliol clan, may we invite you 
to join us?

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


You are Robert the Bruce.

robert the bruce

I am.


My father fought in support of yours.

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.


With this new success, the result of all of Scotlandís efforts, 
now is the time to declare a king!


then you are prepared to recognize our legitimate succession!


youíre the ones who wonít support the true claim!  I demand 
consideration of these documents!

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


Those were lies when they were written!  Our documents prove 
absolutely that--

Suddenly Wallace turns his back and walks toward the door.


Sir William!  Where are you going?


We have beaten the English!  But theyíll come back, because you 
wonít stand together.  There is one clan in this country--
Scotsmen.  One class--free.  One price--courage.

He turns again and strides toward the door.


But...what will you do?


I will invade England.  And defeat the English on their own 


Invade?!  Thatís impossible, it--

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


LISTEN TO ME!  Longshanks understands this!  This!

He brandishes the broadsword.


There is a difference between us.  You think the people of this 
country exist to provide you with position.  I think your 
position exists to provide the people with freedom.  And I go to 
make sure they have it.

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

Int. edinburgh corridor - day

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


Wait!  ...I respect what you said.  But remember, these men have 
lands, castles.  Much to risk.


And the common man who bleeds on the battlefield, does he risk 


No.  But from top to bottom this country has no sense of itself.  
Its nobles share allegiance with England and its clans war with 
each other.  If you make enemies on both sides of the border, 
youíll end up dead.


We all end up dead.  Itís only a question of how.  And why.

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


Iím no coward!  I want what you want!  But we need the nobles.


Nobles?  What does that mean--to be noble?  Your title gives you 
claim to the throne of our country.  But men donít follow titles, 
they follow courage!  Your arm speaks louder than your tongue.  
Our people know you.  Noble and common, they respect you.  If you 
would lead them toward freedom, they would follow you.  And so 
would I.

Wallace walks away, leaving Robert the Bruce alone.


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.

Ext. establishing york city - day

A medieval city guarded by a fortress.

int. the fortress - map room - day

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


Message from your cousin, the Prince.  He says London has no more 
troops to send.


Every town in Northern England is begging for help!  Where will 
Wallace strike first?


I should think these smaller settlements along the border...

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


He advances!


To what town?


He comes here!

Smash to:


as civilians flee the walled city in the distance.


has cut a huge tree and placed it on wheels.  It rumbles 
ominously TOWARD CAMERA...

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

THE SCOTTISH ARMY keeps coming on.


The governor is furious and confused.


We will not allow a bandit to panic the greatest city in Northern 
England!  Close off the escapes!  Let no one leave!


The city has emptied already, Sire.  Only the Scottish civilians 

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


as it picks up speed and SLAMS into the wooden gate of the city.  
With the collision, THE BATTLE IS ON.  Itís a night battle:  
torches, flaming arrows, pots of boiling oil being splashed down 
at the attackers, who swarm the gate.

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--


Back!  Wait for it to burn!


The Captain hurries into the tower room.


Theyíve breached the wall!


Then do as I ordered.


The Scots wait, biding their time as the barrier burns.  Suddenly 
they look up in horror; the English are throwing the bodies of 
hanged Scots over the wall.

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




They wish to frighten us!  Or goad us into attacking too soon!  
Donít look away!  LOOK!

The Scots look at the hanging bodies.


Behold the enemy we fight!  We will be more merciful than they 
have been.  We will spare women, children, and priests.  For all 
else, no mercy.

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.

Int. the palace in london - day

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.


It is not your fault!  Stand up to him.

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


I will stand up to him, and more.

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.


What news of the north?


Nothing new, Majesty.  We have sent riders to speed any word.


While I am in France fighting to expand your future kingdom I 
learn that Stirling castle is lost, our entire northern army 
wiped out!  And you have done nothing?!


I have ordered conscriptions...

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


Wallace has sacked York!



(to messenger)

How dare you bring a panicky lie.

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, 
Yorkís (former) Governor.


Sire!  Thy own nephew!  What beast could do such a thing?!

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


If he can sack York, he can invade lower England.


We would stop him!


Edward, who is this shitpoker who speaks to me as if I needed his 


I have declared Phillip my High Counselor.

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 Phillipís 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.


You fight back at last!

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 sonís wreckage, and goes back to the 
discussion, as if this fight was normal business.


We must sue for a truce, and buy him off.  But who will go to 
him?  Not I.  If I came under the sword of this murderer, I would 
end up like my nephew.  And not you, the sight of my faggot son 
would only encourage an enemy to take over this country.  So whom 
do I send?

Longshanks calculates.

Ext. Wallace army camp - day

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.


A royal entourage comes, flying banners of truce, and the 
standards of Longshanks himself!

Wallace buckles on his sword.


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 

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


Longshanks!  I have come.

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.


I am the Princess of Wales.


Wife of Edward, the kingís son?

She nods; somehow she is already ashamed.


I come as the kingís servant, and with his authority.


Itís battle I want, not talk.


But now that I am here, will you speak with a woman?

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 Princessís French guards, so they can watch Wallaceís 
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.


I understand that you have recently been given the rank of 


I have been given nothing.  God makes men what they are.


Did God make you the sacker of peaceful cities?  The executioner 
of the kingís nephew, my husbandís own cousin?


York was the staging point for every invasion of my country.  And 
that royal cousin hanged a hundred Scots, even women and 
children, from the city walls.


That is not possible.

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


Longshanks did far worse, the last time he took a Scottish city.

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



He is a murdering bandit, he lies.



I am no bandit.  And I do not lie.

They are startled at Wallaceís fluency in Latin.


Or in French if you prefer that:  Certainmous et ver!  Ask your 
king to his face, and see if his eyes can convince you of the 

She stares for a long moment at Wallaceís eyes.


Hamilton, leave us.




Leave us now.

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 ladyís beauty non-stop, leans in and 
whispers to William...


Her husbandís more of a queen that she is.  Did you know that?

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


Let us talk plainly.  You invade England.  But you cannot 
complete the conquest, so far from your shelter and supply.  The 
King proposes that you withdraw your attack.  In return he grants 
you title, estates, and this chest with a thousand pounds of 
gold, which am to pay to you personally.


A Lordship.  And gold.  That I should become Judas.


Peace is made is such ways.



The outburst startles even those watching from a distance.  The 
Princess is mesmerized by Wallaceís passion.


I understand you have suffered.  I know...about your woman.


She was my wife.  We married in secret because I would not share 
her with an English lord.  they killed her to get to me.  And she 
was pregnant.

The Princess is stunned;  Wallace is dead still.


Iíve never told anyone.  I donít know why I tell you--except 
because you look...much like her.  And someday you will be a 
queen, and you must open your eyes!


Tell your king that William Wallace will not be ruled.  Nor will 
any Scot, while I live.

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.


Sir.  I leave this money, as a gift.  Not from the king, but from 
myself.  And not to you, but to the orphans of your country.

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 Princessí procession leaves.  Hamish 
studies Wallaceís 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 Princessí fingers, but 
they know she looked back.  Wallace reins his horse away, to ride 
back to camp.

Int. edwardís palace - day

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


My sonís loyal wife returns, unkilled by the heathen.  So he 
accepted our bribe.


No.  He did not.


Then why does he stay?  My scouts say he has not advanced.


He waits.  For you.  He says he will attack no more towns--if you 
are man enough to come fight him.


You spoke with this Wallace in private.  What kind of man is he?


...A mindless barbarian.  Not a king like you, Mílord.


The Scottish nobles have sent him no support.  His army starves.  
Our stall has worked, he must withdraw.  You may return to your 


Humbly, Mílord.

She barely curtseys, and starts out.


you brought back the money, of course?

He already know she didnít; Hamilton is standing near him.


No.  I have it to ease the suffering of the children of this war.


(glances at son)

This is what happens when you must send a woman.  And a fool.


Forgive me, Sire.  I thought that generosity might demonstrate 
your greatness to those you mean to rule.


My greatness is better demonstrated with this.

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


The weapon has been outlawed by the Pope himself!


So the Scots will have none of them, will they?  My armorers have 
already made a thousand.

Longshanks smiles.  No one notices that the Princess is deadly 

Ext. Wallace army camp - day

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?


William--French guards?

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 Princessís 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.

ext. a field in scotland - day

Wallace has gathered the nobles, among them Robert the Bruce, 
Mornay, and old Craig, for a demonstration.  Hamish and Stephen 
have placed a spearmanís 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 

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 manís heart.  The nobles pale.


That is why the Pope outlawed the weapon!  It makes war too 


How many does Longshanks have?


A thousand.


You have made me Guardian of Scotland.  So I tell you this is 
what we face.


We must sue for peace.




we cannot defeat this--


With cavalry--not heavy, like the English, but light, fast 
horsemen, like you nobles employ--we could outmaneuver their 


It is suicide.


Sir William--

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


We won at Stirling and still you quibbled!  We won at York and 
you would not support us!  Then I said nothing!  Now I say you 
are cowards!

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.


Please, Sir William!  Speak with me alone!  I beg you!

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


You have achieved more than anyone dreamed.  But fighting these 
odds looks like rage, not courage.  Peace offers its rewards!  
Has war become a habit you cannot break?

The question strikes deep.


War finds me willing.  I know it wonít bring back all I have 
lost.  But it can bring what none of us have ever had--a country 
of our own.  For that we need a king.  We need you.


I am trying.


Then tell me what a king is!  Is he a man who believes only what 
others believe?  Is he one who calculates the numbers for and 
against him but never weighs the strength in your own heart?  
There is strength in you.  I see it.  I know it.


I must...consult with my father.


And I will consult with mine.

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?


Remember when the English turned their hounds on us?  Maybe we 
should introduce them to our dogs.

Int. the darkened room of bruce the elder, the leper

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.


This...cannot be the way.

the leper

You have said yourself that the nobles will not support Wallace, 
so how does it help us to join the side that is slaughtered?

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

the leper

My son.  Look at me.  I cannot be king.  You, and you alone, can 
rule Scotland.  What I tell you, you must do--for yourself, and 
for your country.

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

Ext. the battle of falkirk - day

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 


The Bruce is not coming, William.


Mornay has come.  So will the Bruce.

Heíd better, the odds look long.  And itís 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.


Stephen ready?



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.


on the opposite side of the field, send their army forward.


see them through the smoke; Wallace spots what heís looking for:  
there they are, the ranks of crossbowmen!

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.


Irish troops!


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


So thatís where Longshanks got his soldiers.  Irishmen, willing 
to kill Scottish cousins for the English.


Their families are starving, theyíll feed them however they can.  
If you donít want to fight them--


No.  Iíll stand with you.

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.


They canít be that stupid to attack the schiltrons again.

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.


Itís only a faint to shield the crossbows!

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.


Now!  Give Ďem the dogs!

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 canít flee, and 
as the dogs mix among them, the bowmen fire frantically, mostly 
hitting each other.  The dogsí 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 


Now!  Charge!  Charge them!

Mornay tugs his reins and leads his cavalry away.


Longshanks and his officers see Mornay and his cavalry melt away.  
The English general looks knowingly at Longshanks.




For double his lands in Scotland, and matching estates in 


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 
Wallaceís left shoulder.  He wobbles on his horse, regains his 
balance, and keeps up the charge.


Longshanks and his generals are watching the action.


My God, and still they come!


Use the reinforcements!  But take Wallace alive!

The General signals and the English reinforcements surge into the 


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 


Hamish!  Ham--

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 Hamishís back.  Wallace lifts 
Campbell across the saddle, and shouts at Hamish...


Get him away!

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 Wallaceís presence, the Scots surge back.  Then 
Wallace sees the English reinforcement cavalry coming.


A charge!  Form up!  Form up!

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 Bruceís 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 doesnít react to it.

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


Fight me!  Fight me!

But Wallace can only stagger back.  Bruceís voice grows ragged as 
he screams.



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

Suddenly Stephen comes through the melee, on Robertís 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.


looks over the battlefield, strewn with the bodies of the 
Scottish dead.  For now, he is satisfied.

Ext. road - sunset

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


Son...  I want to die on the ground.

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


Whew.  Thatíll clear your sinuses.  Goodbye, boys.


No.  Youíre going to live.


I donít think I can do without one of those...whatever it is...

Hamish is too grief-stricken to speak.


You...were like my father...

Old Campbell rallies one more time for this.


...And glad to die, like him...  So you could be the men you are.  
All of ya.

The last three words to Hamish, telling him heís a hero too.


Iím a happy man.

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.

Int. edinburgh castle - day

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 noblesí 
face, and follow William out.

Int. castle corridor - day

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

Ext. woods - night

Wallace is in the woods, in the grove of trees, looking at 
Marionís 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

Int. palace in london - night

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.


Their nobles have sworn allegiance, Mílord.  Every last one.

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


Now we kill two birds at one stroke.  We recruit from Scotland 
for our armies in France.


The Scots will fight for us?


What choice do they have?  Now they must serve us or starve.


But if we have not caught Wallace--



He is gone!  Finished!  Dead!  If he has not yet bled to death or 
had his throat cut for him, he will not survive the winter.  It 
is very cold--is it not, our flower?

From the other side of the window, we see the Princess as she 
hears him, but doesnít turn around.  She looks at the window, we 
snow swirling among the raindrops outside.  Her eyes glisten, and 
her breath fogs the glass.

Int. bruceís darkened chamber

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


I am the one who is rotting.  But I think your face looks graver 
than mine.


He was so brave.  With courage alone he nearly won.


So more men were slaughtered uselessly!


He broke because of me.  I saw it.  He lost all will to fight.


We must have alliance with England to prevail here.  You achieved 
that!  You saved your family, increased your lands!  In time you 
will have all the power in Scotland!  ..Yet you grieve.


In my heart I had begun to hope that he would never break.


All me lose heart.  All betray.  It is exactly why we must make 
the choices we make.

Int. mornayís castle - night

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...


rides up the circular stairs inside Mornayís castle!  His horse 
bounds up the stone--Mornayís guards are behind him, on foot, 

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


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 horseís eyes with a cloth and spurs his 
flanks.  the blind animal runs through the window!

Ext. castle - night - slow motion

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

Ext. scottish village - day

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


Wal-lace!  Wal-lace!  Wal-lace!

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

int. bruce castle - day

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


Is it true about Mornay?

Craig hands him the bloody nightshirt Mornay was wearing.


And he rode through the window?  My God.

He canít hide his admiration.  From below, he still hears the 
people CHANTING...

Ext. london - gardens - day

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


His legend grows!  It will be worse than before!


You let Wallace escape your whole army.  You cannot blame me for 

Longshanks glowers at his son; the Princess arrives.


Good day to you, MíLords.


You mock us with a smile?


I am cheerful with a plan to soothe your miseries.  All of 
England shudders with the news of renewed rebellion.


Wallaceís followers.


Wallace himself.  If you wish to pretend a ghost rallies new 
volunteers in every Scottish town, I leave you to your hauntings.  
If you wish to take him, I know a way.

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


I have faced him.  Have you?


Let her speak.


He will fight your forever.  But what does he fight for?  Freedom 
first, and peace.  So grant them.


The little cow is insane--


Grant, as you do everything else, with treachery.  Offer him a 
truce to discuss terms, and send me to my castle at Locharmbie as 
your emissary.  He trusts me.  Pick thirty of your finest 
assassins for me to take along.  And I will set the meeting, and 
the ambush.


you see, my delicate son?  I have picked you a Queen.

Ext. the princessí scottish castle - day

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

Int. castle - the great hall - day

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

chief assassin

We came in small groups, so the rebels would not suspect.


And you have reached Wallaceís men?

chief assassin

We tell the villagers, and the traitors pass it on.  All thatís 
left is for you to say where.

Ext. marionís grove - night

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...itís Hamish and Stephen.

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

Int. cave - night

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


Thanks for the food and drink.  And for bringing Ďem yourselves.


Weíre here to stay.  We donít care to live, if we canít fight 
beside ya.

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.


There thing, William.  Longshanks is offering a truce.  
He has dispatched his daughter-in-law as his emissary, and she 
has sent word that she wishes to meet you--in a barn.

Wallace frowns; a barn?

ext. a barn in the scottish countryside - day

Hauntingly similar to the one in Wallaceís 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.


are the assassins, killing knives ready.

Chief assassin

Itís William Wallace, sure!  And...heís given up his sword!  Be 

They position themselves at every entrance.


Wallace reaches the barn, dismounts, and moves toward the door.  
But suddenly, instead of entering, he grabs the heavy bar and 
seals the door!  At this motion, Scots spring from the woods in 
all directions.  The assassins inside realize the ambush is being 
turned on them, but itís too late; they hear the entrance being 
sealed from the outside.

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.

Ext. castle - night

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.


being placed in a window of the stable cottage, built into the 
outer wall of the castle.  AT A DISTANCE, the candle burns like a 
tiny beacon.  And William sees it.


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


Wallace climbs the castle wall, hand over hand up the mortared 
stones, to the window twenty feet above the ground.  He reaches 
the safety of the window cove and kneels on the ledge.  He looks 
through the window, and sees her inside.

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 

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.


A meeting in a barn.  It had to be a trap.  And only you would 
know I would be aware of it.


It does me good to see you.


I am much diminished since we met.

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


There will be a new shipment of supplies coming north next month.  
Food and weapons.  They will trav--


No.  Stop.  I didnít come here for that.


Then why did you come?


Why did you?


Because of the way youíre looking at me now.  The same 
when we met.

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


I know.  You looked at me... and saw her.

He twists back toward the window.


You must forgive me what I feel.  No man has ever looked at me as 
you did.

Surprised, he looks at her now.


you have a husband.


I have taken vows.  More than one.  Iíve vowed faithfulness to my 
husband, and sworn to give him a son.  And I cannot keep both 

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


You understand.  Consider, before you laugh and say now.  You 
will never own a throne, though you deserve one.  But just as the 
sun will rise tomorrow, some man will rule England.  And what if 
his veins ran not with the blood of Longshanks, but with that of 
a true king?


I cannot love you for the sake of revenge. 


No.  But can you love me for the sake of all you loved and lost?  
Or simply love me...because I love you?

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


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

dissolve to


Their bodies limp, they lie asleep, entwined.  The first rays of 
morning spread yellow light through the room and across their 

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.


No one!  Hurry!

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...


When we... did you think of her?

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

Ext. grove of trees - night

Wallace stands alone in the grove where Marion lies.


--Wallace and fifty men gallop through a village on the way to an 
English fortress; the villagers drop what theyíre doing and run 
to follow them; we see Wallaceís face, relentless, as he hacks 
men down in the attack; with the fortress sacked and smoking in 
the background, we see Wallace lead his men away, the people 
cheering him...

ext. forest encampment - night

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


Rest, William.


I rest.


Your rest is making me exhausted.

Stephen offers the jug; Wallace declines.


Come, itíll help you sleep.


Aye.  Bit it wonít let me dream.

Pulling a tattered tartan around himself, he lies down.


He sits by a palace hearth, where a huge blaze burns; still heís 
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 
Robertís face, cold as the stone.  A SHUFFLE...Robert looks up to 
see old Craig.


May her rest in peace.  ...You have already sealed the coffin?


He was a modest man.


It will not be long before Longshanks too is encased in stone, 
and his crowns divided for others to wear.

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


Our nobles are frightened and confused...Wallace has the 
commoners stirred up again, from the Highland clans to the 
lowland villages.  In another six months Christ and the Apostles 
could not govern this country.

Robert only stares at his fatherís stone coffin.


Longshanks knows his son will scarcely be able to rule England, 
much less half of France.  He needs Scotland settled, and he 
trusts you, after Falkirk.  If you pay him homage, he will 
recognize you as king of Scotland.  Our nobles have agreed to 
this as well.

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


If I pay homage to anotherís throne, then how am I a king?


Homage is nothing.  It is the crown that matters!


The crown is that of Scotland.  And Scotland is William Wallace.


That is another matter.  There is a price to all this, required 
both by Longshanks and our nobles.  Pay it, and you will be our 
king.  And we will have peace.

Robert turns from his fatherís coffin, to look at Craig.

Ext. forest encampment - night

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.


Sir William.  We come to seek a meeting.


Youíve all sworn to Longshanks.


An oath to a liar is no oath at all.  An oath to a patriot is a 
vow indeed.  Every man of us is ready to swear loyalty to you.


So let the council swear publicly.


We cannot.  Some scarcely believe you are alive.  Other think 
youíll pay them Mornayís wages.  We bid you to Edinburgh.  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.


I will meet you, but only one way--if Robert the Bruce is there, 
and puts his hand on my Bible, and swears his loyalty to 


He has already agreed to come.

Ext. Forest - night

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


You know itís a trap.


Probably.  But we canít win alone.  We know that.  This is the 
only way.


I donít want to be a martyr.


Nor I!  I want to live!  I want a home and children and peace.  
Iíve asked god for those things.  But Heís brought me this sword.  
And if He wills that I must lay it down to have what He wants for 
my country, then Iíll do that too.


Thatís just a dream, William!


Weíve lived a dream together.  A dream of freedom!


your dreams arenít about freedom!  Theyíre about Marion!  You 
have to be a hero, because you think she sees you!  Is that it?


My dreams of Marion are gone.  I killed them myself.  If I knew I 
could live with her on the other side of death, Iíd welcome it.

ext. road into EDINBURGH - sunset

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.


Keep these.  Weíre going too.


No.  One of us is enough.

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

Ext. Large estate house - sunset

The house looks quiet as Wallace rides toward it.

Int. estate house - day

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


He wonít come.


He will.  I know he will.

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


Here.  And unarmed.  My God, he has a brave heart.


Wallace dismounts and enters.

Int. the house

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 
Bruceís 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.


He is not to be harmed.  I have your kingís absolute promise that 
he will be imprisoned only!

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


Now we will have peace.

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

ext. road - northern england - day

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...


Donít look so fearsome, does he?!

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

Int. royal palace - Longshanksí bedroom - day

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

int. the palace hallway - day

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


Is it true?  Wallace is captured?


Simply because he eluded your trap, do you think he is more than 
a man?  My father is dying.  Perhaps you should think of our 


When will his trial be?


Wallaceís?  For treason there I no trial.  Tomorrow he will be 
charged, then executed.

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

Int. robert the bruceís castle - day

The Bruce is incredulous, yelling at Craig.


Longshanks promised!


You are surprised he would lie?  Balliol was murdered in a church 
yesterday.  You are Longshanksí new designate.  You will be king.

INT. tower dungeon

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

royal magistrate

William Wallace!  You stand in taint of high treason.

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


Treason.  Against whom?


Against thy king, thou vile fool!  Hast thou anything to say?


Never, in my whole life, did I swear allegiance to your king--


It matter not, he is thy king!


--while many who serve him have taken and broken his oath many 
times.  I cannot commit treason, if I have never been his 


Confess, and you may receive a quick death.  Deny, and you must 
be purified by pain.  Do you confess? ...DO YOU CONFESS?!


I do not confess.


Then on the morrow, thou shalt receive they purification.  ...And 
in the end, I promise youíll beg for the axe.

ext. establishing - the tower

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

int. prison - night

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


I am so afraid...  Give me strength.


The jailers jump to their feet as the Princess enters.


Your Highness!


I will see the prisoner.


Weíve orders from the king--


the king will be dead in a month!  And his son is a weakling!  
Who do you think will rule this kingdom?  Now OPEN THIS DOOR!

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


On your feet, you filth!


Stop!  Leave me!

(they hesitate)

There is no way out of this hell!  Leave me with him!

Reluctantly the jailers shuffle out of the cell, but they can 
still see her back and hear her.  Looking at Wallaceís eyes 
through the mask, she canít quite hold back her tears--dangerous 
tears, that threaten to say too much.  Wallace tries to distract 


Mílady...what kindness of you to visit a stranger.


sir, I...come to beg you to confess all, and swear allegiance to 
the king, that he might show you mercy.


Will he show mercy to my country?  Will he take back his 
soldiers, and let us rule ourselves?

princess to die quickly.  Perhaps even live in the Tower.  In 
time, who knows what can happen, if you can only live.


If I swear to him, then everything I am is dead already.

She wants to plead, she wants to scream.  She canít stop the 
tears.  And the jailers are watching.


your people are lucky to have a princess so kind that she can 
grieve at the death of a stranger.

she almost goes too far now, pulling closer to him--but she 
doesnít care.  She whispers, pleading...


You will die!  It will be awful!


Every man dies.  Not every man really lives.

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


Drink this!  It will dull your pain.


It will numb my wits, and I must have them all.  If Iím 
senseless, or if I wail, then Longshanks will have broken me.


I canít bear the thought of your torture.  Take it!

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.

Int. longshanksí bedchamber - night

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.


I have come to beg for the life of William Wallace.


You fancy him.


I respect him.  At worst he was a worthy enemy.  Show mercy...Oh 
thou great king...and win the respect of your own people.

Longshanks shakes his head.


Even now, you are incapable of mercy?

The king canít speak.  But hatred still glows in his eyes.  The 
princess looks at her husband.


Nor you.  To you that word is as unfamiliar as love.


Before he lost his powers of speech, he told me his one comfort 
was that he would live to know Wallace was dead.

She leans down and grabs the dying king by the hair.  The guards 
flanking the door start forward but the Princessís 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 canít hear...


you see?  Death comes to us all.  And it comes to William 
Wallace.  But before death comes to you, know this:  your blood 
dies with you.  A child who is not of your line grows in my 
belly.  Your son will not sit long on the throne.  I swear it.

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.

ext. london town square - execution day

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 Wallaceís cheek.  Wallaceís 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.


We will use it all before this is over.  Or fall to your knees 
now, declare yourself the kingís loyal subject, and beg his 
mercy, and you shall have it.

He emphasizes ďmercyĒ 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 Wallaceís neck...


--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.


a trio of burly hooded executioners cinch a rope around Wallaceís 
neck and hoist him up a pole.


Thatís it!  Stretch him!

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 theyíre 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.


Pleasant, yes?  Rise to your knees, kiss the royal emblem on my 
cloak, and you will feel no more.

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.


Very well then.  Rack him.

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 Wallaceís limbs.  Hamish and Stephen feel it in 
their own bodies.


Wonderful, isnít it, that a man remains conscious through such 
pain.  Enough?

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.


That...will..clear your sinuses.

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 WALLACEíS FACE as the 
disembowelment begins.  The Magistrate leans in beside him.


It can all end.  Right now!  Bliss.  Peace.  Just say it.  Cry 
out.  ďMercy!Ē  yes?  ...Yes?

The crowd canít hear the magistrate but they know the procedure, 
and they goad Wallace, chanting...


Mer-cy!  Mer-cy!  Mer-cy!

Wallaceís eyes roll to the magistrate, who signals QUIET!



The prisoner wishes to say a word!

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

Hamish, and Stephen

Mercy, William...  Say Mercy...

Wallaceís 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 has never seen courage like this; even English 
strangers begin to weep.  The angry, defeated magistrate gives a 
signal.  They cut the ropes, drag Wallace over and put his head 
on the block.  The executioner lifts his huge axe--and Wallace 
looks toward the crowd.


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


begins to drop.


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

She is Marion.


Robert the Bruce

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 

robert (V.O.)

After the beheading, William Wallaceís body was torn to pieces.  
His head was set on London bridge, where passerby were invited to 
jeer at the man who had caused so much fear in England.


His arms and legs were sent to the four corners of Britain as 

Ext. Scottish towns - carious shots - day

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

robert (v.o.)

It did not have the effect that Longshanks planned.

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 
ďFor Freedom.Ē

Ext. scottish highlands - day

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 Scotlandís new king.

robert (V.o.)

And I, Robert the Bruce, backed by a body of Scottish veterans, 
rode out to pay homage to the armies of the English king, and 
accept his endorsement of my crown.


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

english commander

I hope you washed your ass this mornin--itís never been kissed by 
a king before.

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.


Come, letís get it over with.

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--

robert the bruce

You have bled with Wallace!  Now bleed with me!

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


Wal-lace!  Wal-lace!  Wal-lace!

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 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...

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


Wal-lace!  Wal-lace!  Wal-lace!


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