The Flame and the Arrow Page #5

and be gone.

Piccolo, untie the marchese

and his friend...

...so they can be gone.

I don't think you understand.

I will take my possessions and be gone.

I don't think you understand.

These aren't your possessions.

They were plucked from me

by the Hessians.

And we plucked them

from the Hessians, rudely.

I would like it clearly understood :

Where my possessions go, I go.

If they stay, I stay.

Oh, come now, marchese. You wouldn't

want to live among brigands.

Outlaws, as you say.

Since my castle's been burned

and my land confiscated...

...and the law seems powerless

to protect my person or possessions...

...then by all the saints, I'm outside

the protection of the law myself.

Outlaw. So you may have me.

You'd undoubtedly be a decorative thing

to have around.

But our number's limited.

We're more in need of men

than amusement.

So I'm afraid we'll just have to forgo

the luxury of your company.

I'm afraid this puts you in the

embarrassing position of keeping me out.

Now, you wouldn't want to spoil

your pretty clothes.

Why don't you go peacefully

like a nice boy?

I could best you at the lance.

You could probably

master me with the bow.

I suggest, therefore,

a man-to-man encounter, barehanded.

Marchese, you're gonna get dirty.

Piccolo.

Very good. Very good. Adroit.

Now having taken

each other's measure, we shall see.

I leave it up to the outlaws.

Is it worth the trouble to keep him out?

And there's just one thing

you should know.

-I have the last word.

-Haven't tried for the third fall.

-Until we do.

-Until we do, you have the last word.

Of course, understand one thing :

You take me and you take my minstrel.

I insist on music with my meals.

A couplet to convince your lady

your lies are harmless.

A rhyme to flatter yourself

on your birthday.

A ballad to exaggerate your manhood

for the sake of your friends.

A melancholy song to make yourself

think you're a man of deep thoughts.

I'm a useful fellow to have

when you're moody...

...and I don't eat

more than twice my share.

Besides your wish,

since I can't sing to please myself...

...but only songs to suit the Hawk,

my music's as good as outlaw...

...and wherever my music goes,

I follow.

And now may I ask

when you villains eat?

Your new home, marchese.

A tomb of the ancient gods.

The roof leaks.

The glory of Olympus reduced

to a shelter for outlaws.

I think the ancient gods

lived a little like outlaws themselves.

That's right,

so why shouldn't we live like gods?

Besides,

it's the safest place we know.

Two more mouths to feed, Luigi.

Our good chef, baker

and major-domo, Luigi.

-The Marchese Alessandro of Granezia.

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