"I shall tell you of William Wallace.
Historians from England will say I am a liar, but history is written by those who have hanged heroes."
(William calls Murron out by throwing pebbles at Murron's back door. She comes out and they run into a grove to
be alone and talk.)
William: Of course, running a farm is a lot of work, but that will all change when my sons arrive.
Murron: So, you've got children?
William: Oh not yet, but I was hoping that you could help me with that.
Murron: So you want me to marry you, then?
William: Well, that's a bit sudden but alright.
Murron: Is that what you call a proposal?
William: I love you. Always have. I want to marry you.
(They kiss)
William: Is that a yes?
Murron: Aye, that's a yes.
Stephen: Him? That can't be William Wallace. I'm prettier than this man.
(looking skyward) Alright Father, I'll ask him. If I risk my neck for you, will I get a chance to kill Englishmen?
Hamish: Is your father a ghost or do you converse with the Almighty?
Stephen: In order to find his equal, an Irishman is forced to talk to God. (looking heavenward again) Yes, Father. The Almighty says don't change the subject; just answer the fucking question.
Hamish: Mind your tongue.
Campbell: Insane Irish.
(Stephen pulls a dagger from his sleeve and presses it to Campbell's throat. William's men counter with swords to Stephen's throat.)
Stephen: (to Campbell) Smart enough to get a dagger past your guards, old man.
William: That's my friend, Irishman. And the answer to your question is yes; if you fight for me you get to kill the English.
Stephen: Excellent. (putting away his dagger) Stephen is my name. I'm the most wanted man on my island, except I'm not on my island, of course. More's the pity.
Hamish: Your island? You mean Ireland.
Stephen: Yeah. It's mine. (grinning broadly)
Hamish: You're a madman.
Stephen: I've come to the right place, then.
(Stephen laughs, and everyone joins in.)
William: (shouting to them all) Sons of Scotland, I am William Wallace.
Young soldier: William Wallace is 7 feet tall.
William: Yes, I've heard. He kills men by the hundreds, and if he were here he'd consume the English with fireballs from his eyes and bolts of lightning from his arse. (All laugh. He addressed the crowd.) 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 that freedom? Will you fight?
Veteran: Fight against that? No, we will run, and we will live.
William: Aye, fight and you may die, run and you'll live. At least a while. (shouting to all) And dying in your beds many years from now, would you be willing to trade all the days from this day to that for one chance, just one chance to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they'll never take our freedom?! Alba gu brath! (Scotland forever!)
(The Scots cheer »Alba gu brath« repeatedly. Across the field, the English watch the shouting Scots.)
William: Now is our chance, now. If we join, we can win. If we win, well then we'll have what none of us have ever had before: a country of our own. You are the rightful leader, and there is strength in you. I see it. Unite us. Unite the clans. (Robert and William shake hands in agreement) Alright.
Robert: Right.
(Wallace walks out without a second glance, confident that he can rely on the Bruce.)
William: My lady.
Isabella: Sir, I come to beg you to confess all and swear allegiance to the king, that he might show you mercy.
William: Will he show mercy to my country?
Isabella: Mercy is to die quickly, perhaps even live in a tower. In time, who knows what could happen. If you can only live?
William: If I swear to him, then all that I am is dead already.
Isabella: (starting to cry) You will die. It will be awful.
William: Every man dies, not every man really lives.
Robert: (turning to the Scots) You have bled with Wallace, now bleed with me.
(Hamish drops his axe, and pulls out Wallace's sword. Stepping forward, he screams and throws William's sword
out into the field. It stabs into the earth, standing like a cross. Robert the Bruce draws his sword.)
Crowd: WALLACE, WALLACE, WALLACE, WALLACE.
(Robert charges and the screaming Scots follow.)
»In the year of our Lord 1314, patriots of Scotland, starving and outnumbered, charged the fields at Bannockburn. They fought like warrior poets. They fought like Scotsmen. And won their freedom.«
