Then speak.
Child, show us your great learning.
You have nothing to fear but God's wrath, my little one, so speak.
Our Father... Yes, there is more.
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, as in heaven, as on earth.
Give us day by day our daily bread, and forgive us our sins.
For we also forgive everyone... Enough!
I most solemnly forbid you, child, ever again to speak the creed,
the Lord's Prayer, or the Ten Commandments in English.
We need hear no more.
The men will burn, but of our great compassion and mercy, the widow will be
spared to provide for this brood, after we have taught them afresh the godly
ways of the church.
See she is safe home, Morton.
Take the rest away.
William, where have you been?
It's late.
Forgive me, Lady Anne.
There's nothing to forgive, but you have a visitor.
For me?
Come and see for yourself.
He will be dining with us, and from the look of him I would say his appetite is
dull, only by his eagerness to see you.
A friend?
That I will tell you no more.
Are you familiar with the name Thomas Poynes?
No, sir.
Merchant in London, kinsman to my wife, cousin of some such.
Now, he is a man of your persuasion.
Talks endlessly of Erasmus and Luther and the new learnings, he calls it.
London is some miles from Cambridge, Sir John.
I know that, but the world grows smaller with the passing of the days, and the
world of learning grows larger within it.
Why, even here in the Cotswolds... John!
William!
At last!
Indeed, at last!
The man could die for want of nourishment.
Lady Anne says that you will stay to dine.
Not to dine only, but also to lodge a night or two?
Say you will.
I will.
But sire, I said, your horse is the largest in all England.
If Hannibal had owned such mounts, he would have taken Rome.
To me it was a jest, but to the king, a challenge.
Very well then, Zoe Bellow, we will change mounts and race again.
And did you?
Aye, I must obey the king.
But there's the rub.
Though it were politic to lose, ought I to lose on the fastest,
finest horse in all England?
What say you?
If you win, you injure the king.
If you lose, you injure his horse.
Surely it were better to lose.
Well, we raced and I won.
And the king clapped me on the shoulder and said, you will be my champion.
No, the king were but seventeen years of age.
And I but twenty-two and half as strong as he.
What would you have done, William?
Lost or won?
But neither one nor the other.
Between me and a horse, I like a large cart or a long distance.
He is a good and kind man.
But his children have no need of a tutor.
Perhaps in years to come, but now.
So, what would you have me do?
Return with me.
You have much to give, encouragement to offer.
You have faith and wisdom.
Why would you rob us of that?
Why rob yourself of the fellowship?
And the wheelwright?
The blacksmith?
The ploughman?
Are they better robbed?
What of this man here?
Where will he find Christ?
Will the priests show him?
Or the friars?
His hair is lost as he is praying to the saints with words beyond their
understanding.
So you will remain here on the edge of the world to teach the ploughman.
Moses was forty long years in the wilderness before he knew what God would
have him do.
Before I teach his word, I must learn it.
And then?
It was in the language of Israel that the Psalms were sung in the Temple of Jehovah.
Why should the gospel speak to England in Latin, the language of ancient Rome?
I shall bring the scriptures to England for Englishmen to read.
And the Lord God spoke through his prophet Jeremiah and said that a horrible thing
had happened in the land.
The prophets prophesied lies, he said, and the priests ruled by their own
authority.
And this was Israel.
God's chosen people plucked from the bondage of Egypt and brought to the
promised land, the priests ruled by their own authority.
And what can we say of England now?
What can we say of our coarse monks, our greedy priests and our pompous
prelates?
Theirs is not the gospel of Christ, but a trade, and a profitable trade at
that.
Think of it, they want money for everything.
They want money for baptisms, money for churchings, money for weddings,
for buryings, for penances, for soul masses, for chalices, bells.
Those are for the glory of God.
Would you so cheapen salvation as to offer it without a sacrifice?
As the psalmist declared, the sacrifices of God are a broken spirit and a contrite
heart.
Would this man mock me before this crowd?
You poor sheep.
The parson shears, the vicar shaves, the priest scrapes, the friar pears.
All we lack is a butcher to tear off the skin.
Why are the prelates dressed in red?
It is meant to show that they are ready every hour to suffer martyrdom for the
testimony of God's word, for God's word.
If any man hears so much as utter one question concerning God's word,
they are ready every hour to burn him.
He must be stopped.
Behold, the day has come, saith the Lord, when I will bring a famine in the land,
not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the
Lord.
They are looking to trap you, William, and they shall.
You must take care.
Yes.
People have been burned, William.
Simple, good, honest folk burned.
And for what?
For teaching their children the Lord's prayer in English.
Does it not trouble you?
They shall have a better resurrection.
They taught their children the Lord's prayer and were burned.
You would give the nation the whole scripture.
What will they do to you?
Do you have no fear?
Yes, and I most fear him who has the power to destroy the soul.
Nothing I say will change you.
I would ask only that you walk carefully.
Archegos.
The first one.
The beginning one.
The one who makes it begin.
The beginner.
The beginner and finisher of our faith.
If I said beginner and finisher, the reader will believe there is an ending
of our faith.
But of our faith, there is no ending.
Teliotes is one who completes, but not one who ends.
Teliotes is a fine craftsman who completes his work.
A poet, perhaps, who, having brought his art into being, now brings a perfect
finish to it.
And Archegos.
The beginning one.
The creator.
The author.
The author and finisher of our faith.
Let us run with patience unto the battle that is set before us, looking unto Jesus,
the author and finisher of our faith.
William.
Forgive me, I start with you.
You seem troubled.
I have a letter for you.
It carries the seal of the archdeacon.
Bad news?
I would think so.
For some time now, there's been criticism of you amongst the priests and friars.
I fear what John Bell will have to say.
Let us read it and learn what we have to fear.
I am summoned to appear before the archdeacon to answer a charge of heresy.
How will you answer?
Mr Tyndale, you have been accused of heresy in argument, in logic, and in
divinity.
And I will answer the charges if you can bring just one witness to show what I have
heard.
I will testify that you did spread out the scriptures nakedly before the people.
And I will answer that I did expound the word of God, that they might find Christ.
The word of God?
Why, even we are unable to explain it.
How then can the common people?
It is a mystery only to those who read it without Christ.
That is why it is an obscure book to you.
Nothing is obscure to us.
It is we who explain the scriptures to you.
Then you are wasting both your time and your trouble.
Far from explaining the scriptures, it is you who have hidden them.
You who burn those who would teach them.
Why, if you could, you would burn the very word of God itself.
Enough, please.
We are not here to debate.
Mr Tyndale, it is written in the scriptures that the people should be
subject to the rulers and authorities and should obey the magistrates.
What you are doing is outside the law of England.
If you deny that law, it follows that you deny the scriptures.
I would therefore ask first, if you offend the law, can any good come of it?
However well you mean.
And secondly, I would counsel that though he have friends in high places,
even Sir John Walsh is not above the law.
And thirdly, I would charge you, most solemnly, that when you go from this
place, you will obey the law and speak no more heresy.
Now go.
You pray to the saints.
You make images of them.
You light candles to them.
If these images can see and hear, perhaps they hunger also.
If they hunger, why do you not make their bellies hollow and put food and drink
inside?
Jest is ill becoming in one so young.
His mind is full of invention.
And profanity.
Would you make a mockery of sacred images?
No more would I than did the prophet Isaiah.
He wrote of a man who cut down a tree to light a fire to bake some bread.
And when he was warmed and filled, he took the remains of that wood and
carved an image.
Then he fell down before it and worshipped it, saying, You are my God, deliver me.
Did Isaiah laugh when he wrote that?
Did Isaiah write that?
You are a priest, tutored in the classics in Cambridge University.
If you, learned as we suppose you are, schooled in Greek and Latin and divinity,
practiced in the arts of debate and contention, if you cannot understand
Isaiah, or the scriptures you so imprudently expound, how then can the
ignorant laity, the blacksmith, the weaver, the plowboy, those who count
upon their fingers and look to us to guide them?
One moment, doctor.
As our Lord said, Hotan de elfe ekainos top numates ale.
Ah, spare us, spare us.
I acknowledge your learning.
Must you parade it before us?
I thought perhaps translation might cause offence.
Your very presence at this table causes offence, which we endure for the sake of
our host and our gracious hostess.
If our Lord spoke, would it not be better to hear it in English?
Would that all England could hear it in English.
Damn your impertinence!
What did he say?
When he, the spirit of truth, is come, he will guide you into all truth.
And that, young Tyndale, is what the spirit does through the church.
But the church has so many persuasions.
One man follows Don Scosius, another Thomas Aquinas, another Bonadventure.
If all these learned men are in contradiction, one with each other,
how can we know right from wrong but by God's word?
God's word says, if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out.
Give the scriptures to ignorant men, and they'll soon be tearing out their own
eyes.
Hither and yon will be a nation of blind men.
Without God's word, we are a nation of blind men.
But without the help of doctors, God's word is too hard to understand.
And that is to measure the yardstick by the cloth.
There are as many doctors as there are pieces of cloth, but only one yardstick of
scripture.
By what should we measure that?
By the Pope.
The Pope whom God has set on earth in direct succession from the Apostle Peter.
The Pope through whom God administers truth and justice.
The Pope!
And what if the Pope is at variance with God's laws?
Then it were better to do without God's laws than the Pope's.
Well, young sir, what do you say to that?
I defy the Pope and all his laws.
If God spares my life, I will see to it that a plowboy shall know more of the
scriptures than you do.
Forgive me, Lady Anne.
I will not sit at table with blasphemers and heretics.
No more shall I.
No, please wait.
I will not spoil the meal.
I shall go to my room.
You will stay where you are.
I will conduct you to my door.
Your hospitality is renowned.
Your table unsurpassed and we thank you for your kindness.
Take heed, young man.
There are fires on earth and there are fires in hell.
Take care that the one is not needful to spare you the other.
Forgive me, Lady Anne.
Oh, William.
What can I say?
If your life were not so above reproach, it would be easy.
No man's life is above reproach.
But I am afraid.
Afraid for you, for myself, my children.
Is your position not secure?
John is a friend of the King.
At his coronation, he was his champion.
But the King is ruled by many things.
His council, his chancellor, his passions, sight of his face in the looking-glass.
Nobody is secure.
Well done, young William.
We are well rid of them.
It was not my intention to...
Don't tarnish it by telling me what your intentions were.
You have more learning in your little finger than all those doctors could ever
hope for.
I was much amused.
But the fox is now among the chickens, and soon the feathers will fly.
They will not forgive you.
And I cannot promise you protection.
Sir, would you have me leave?
No, no, no.
If you can defy the Pope himself, I can defy a few untutored clerics.
If your God would have you stay, then I'll not bid you leave.
How can I help you, young William?
What troubles you?
The scriptures speak with one voice, but older men than I, and wiser,
seem to speak with another.
They are surely wrong.
But make no mistake, not all within the church are wrong.
England has its witness.
I wish that England had the scriptures.
Then do it.
It is within your gift.
Within my gift, yet without the law.
Unless you have the authority of a bishop.
What bishop in England would defy the authority of the Pope?
There is none.
But one at least is known to have befriended Erasmus.
Cuthbert Tunstall.
Go to the Bishop of London.
If God will have you prosper, then you will prosper.
But take care what you say.
He has a broad mind, but others have not.
If it is seen that you are of evangelical persuasion, it could cost you dear.
This is a letter of introduction to Sir Henry Guildford, Comptroller of the King's
Household.
Do you wish to meet Bishop Tunstall?
Sir John, I wish for nothing more.
If he will only see me and grant me license.
See you he will.
But Sir Henry cannot move the Bishop's mind.
You must do that.
Thank you, Sir John.
This is the address of my cousin Thomas Points.
His house is small, but you will be very welcome until you find accommodation.
In the Bishop's Palace, perhaps.
You are very kind.
You have brought joy to our house for the past two years.
Now it will seem very empty.
God be with you, William.
William, may I introduce Humphrey Monmouth.
Humphrey is a merchant and scripture man.
William was tutored to my cousin's children in Gloucestershire.
Your good neighbor's gone before you.
Where are you lodging?
With Thomas and his wife, until I can find a room.
Then you need look no further.
My house is large.
Any man who preaches as well as you is welcome in it.
We are many, but careful.
That man there, what do you see?
A man with the strength of an ox.
And the faith of a little child.
Harry!
Thomas talks of your purposes.
Of your learning in Greek.
That you would give the scriptures to Englishmen.
If God wills.
Would God will that his word be not read?
Wycliffe translated the scriptures, but few in England have them.
Perhaps God would have us hunger for his word before he feeds us.
The people are hungry now.
Look.
Luther.
It is good.
It is precious.
And the word is in it.
But it is not the word.
Too many books come to England.
Like this.
Secretly, aye, by the score.
But I say again, we are careful.
Men have burned for less.
Message, sir.
William, it has come.
Word from Tunstall.
The bishop will see you tomorrow.
Thank God.
Perhaps you are right, Humphrey.
Perhaps now the people are hungry enough.
Ah, Tyndale.
Come in, come in.
Sit down.
Thank you, your grace.
Sir Harry Guilford has shown me this.
A narration of Isocrates, translated from Greek to Latin.
It is yours?
It is, your grace.
It speaks well of your learning.
As indeed, Sir Harry speaks well of your conversation.
Godly manner.
What do you require of me?
I would enter your employ as chaplain, your grace.
And pass your time in scholarly pursuits and classical translations.
You have a gift for language, I cannot deny.
What, may I ask, commends me to you?
Erasmus speaks of you as the first Englishman in Greek and Latin.
It was through the Greek testament of Erasmus that I found Christ.
Then Erasmus should be commended.
Tell me, if you were to be found in my employ, what work of translation would you
undertake?
That of the testament, your grace, from Greek to English.
And for that you would require my patronage, my episcopal authority.
Yes, your grace.
Yes.
Hmm.
A worthy work.
Not every priest has the same gift for language as you and I.
And most would profit from an understanding of the scriptures.
I would wish that the testament be read by everyone, and not by the clergy only.
In time, perhaps.
In time.
Consider the seasons, young Tindale.
How they change.
Winter turns into summer slowly, through the many shades of spring.
The people are hungry for the word of truth now.
That same word of truth declares that meat is not for babes, but for those who are
strong enough to bear it.
When the church has grown to manhood, then shall we feed them.
But the scripture also urges that we should desire the sincere milk of the
word, that we might grow thereby.
We do not starve a baby of milk because it cannot eat meat.
You argue well, and I agree with much of what you say.
Moreover, there are many within the church who would, I believe, welcome a gentle
change.
But you know, of course, of Wycliffe and his Lollard followers.
And you have considered well how the laity took hold of scripture and used it to
dishonor the church.
I do not hold that the scripture...
There was disorder, civil disobedience and godlessness.
The apostle said that God's word was quick and powerful.
And our Lord himself declared that he had come to bring not peace, but a sword.
I'm sorry, my house is full.
I have already more people than I can employ.
What?
However, I'm sure that if you look about London, you will not fail to meet with
suitable employment.
Now, here's a question.
William?
William, you must work.
To what end?
I have amused you.
You are a mere man.
That is good.
There have been times when I thought you to be an angel.
William, can the Bishop of London stand in the way of God's will?
What is God's will?
His will is his command.
And his command is that we shall preach the gospel of Christ.
It avails nothing if the word is offered in a foreign tongue.
There are other bishops with authority.
Ecclesia.
Those who are called out.
Hmm.
You have used the word congregation.
Yes.
Yet the meaning would signify church.
And church would signify the multitude of shaven, shorn, and oiled, which we now
call the clergy.
The word Ecclesia.
Ecclesia...
is common to all the congregation who believe in Christ.
Forgive me.
Where are you going?
To speak with Humphrey.
He has made a protest to certain printers.
You would print without a license?
After Tunstall, there is none who would grant it.
Shall a mere license stand in the way of God's will?
I am grave, William.
I pass the day talking to printers.
Every man in London will print.
I've been a nuisance to all of them.
Are they all without faith?
By no means.
Some are with us.
Not a man will print the scriptures without authority.
And if there'd be none in London, there'd be none in England.
Then I shall go to Germany and print it there.
If Luther's books can find their way to England...
so shall mine.
Come, William.
You've read it a dozen times or more and still are not happy.
That is because you are of a contentious disposition.
And because your translation argues with itself whilst living most agreeably with
the Greek.
Come.
Peter Quental is expecting us.
How can it live most agreeably with the Greek...
when to one Greek word you ascribe several English meanings?
Why in one place does idou mean behold...
and in another it means low?
And yet again look or see?
What Greek word would you use for behold?
Idou.
And for low?
Well, idou.
But...
Would you choose differently for look?
Were the sense the same?
No.
Then the translation is sound and the reading of it enriched.
If we are faithful to God's word, we have no cause to worry those who would
read it.
The English have a language which is rich and beautiful...
and blessed with infinite varieties.
Why then can we not use it all?
Good morning, Herr Quental.
If you say so, Mr Tyndale.
Though I printed just this morning...
that the days are evil so we should redeem the time.
You read my translation?
I could scarce print it otherwise.
It is an affliction I must bear if I would pursue my trade.
Mr Quental, every blessing is to you a cause for complaint.
Where is your morning's work?
Under those sacks there, concealed.
If you want your books displayed, you should work in Hamburg, not Cologne.
And rob you of good trade?
Or Wittenberg.
There are many cities in Germany which would welcome your heresies.
I stayed nigh over a year in Hamburg...
and Wittenberg was where I met my good and faithful friend, William Roy.
Good day to you, sir.
The heresy of which you speak is the gospel of Christ.
So you say, sir.
But I shall trust my priest.
He is, like me, a good craftsman who charges little.
And Christ is the master craftsman whose work is offered free.
Are these now finished?
But not dry, sir.
Oh.
Hmm.
It reads well.
Though I speak with the tongues of men and angels and yet had no love, I were even as
a sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.
And though I could prophesy and understood all secrets and all knowledge,
yea, if I had all faith so that I could move mountains out of their places and yet
had no love, I were nothing.
And though I bestowed all my goods to feed the poor, and though I gave my body even
that I burnt and yet have no love, it profiteth me nothing.
Love suffereth long and is courteous.
Love envieth not.
Love doth not frowardly, swelleth not, dealeth not dishonestly, seeketh not her
own, is not provoked to anger, thinketh not evil, rejoiceth not in
iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth, suffereth all things, believeth all
things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
Though the prophesying's fail, other tongues shall cease or knowledge
vanisheth away, yet love falleth never away.
For our knowledge is imperfect, and our prophesying is imperfect.
But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is imperfect shall be done
away.
When I was a child, I imagined as a child, that as soon as I was a man, I put away
all childishness.
Now we see in a glass, even in a dark speaking, but then shall we see face to
face.
Now I know imperfectly, but then shall I know even as I am known.
Now abideth faith, hope, and love, even these three, but the chief of these
is love.
Senator Rinker, I fled Frankfurt because the heretics there were running wild.
Forgive me if I seem a little nervous.
Nervous?
Of me?
I have an aged mother and a small niece still in Frankfurt.
You need not fear for them.
This is Cologne, Hecocchius.
We have been spared the Lutheran madness.
And so long as there's breath in my body, so shall we be.
Now tell me, what is this that you have learned?
Two Englishmen are here in this city.
This is the work on which they are engaged.
Fine craftsmanship.
What is it?
It is a letter of St. Paul to the Corinthians.
I found this sample in the printing works of Peter Quintel.
By chance?
By chance, I spoke with certain employees of Herr Quintel.
And one with a little too much wine who was indiscreet.
How indiscreet?
He said that whether the King and Cardinal of York wish it or not, all England will
soon be Lutheran.
England?
Never!
He said that soon every Englishman will have the scriptures in their native tongue
and they will have them from Cologne.
That they will not!
Where is this printing works of Peter Quintel?
Well, we are minutes early to be gone.
Away from here.
Why, what's happened?
They have found us.
Hurry, we must go.
Who has found us?
Hermann Rinker.
Then who has betrayed us?
It matters not.
But, but the books, the manuscripts!
We must go to the printing!
I have all we need.
Hurry!
They are at the very doors.
Please, upside, under the sacks.
And you, do the same with those.
And hurry, please!
There isn't very much time.
There is no time at all, Herr Quintel.
Please, leave everything as it is.
So, Herr Quintel, who commissioned this, this perfidious work?
Herr Quintel, is not the loss of your trade enough?
Would you also lose your liberty?
Perhaps, perhaps your life.
His name is William Tyndale.
William Tyndale.
Suddenly, Wolsey, suddenly, not subtly or insidiously, but suddenly, we have the
scriptures in English everywhere.
Suddenly, Wolsey, we have a rage of bishops.
Suddenly, Wolsey, we hear of the world's end.
And I am not told of it.
Why?
Is it because I am only the king?
Is my majesty so light a thing?
Who is William Tyndale?
Some low-born priest, sir.
And is this the same low-born priest of whom my ambassador to Spain warned me 12
months since?
Yes.
And is this the same low-born priest who it is said had undertaken to translate the
whole of scripture?
The same.
And where is my command that he be found and stopped?
I have men, even now, in France and Germany and Flanders, who have not paused
in their search for him without success.
He moves from place to place.
Oh, printing the scriptures on the back of a traveling mule, perhaps, eh,
Thomas?
It is not a subject for jest, sir.
You tell me it is no jest.
What blind, half-witted man have you commissioned to make the search?
John Hackett.
Oh, John Hackett!
And where has John Hackett looked?
Wherever Tyndale has been cited or word of him reported.
Hamburg, Cologne, Worms, Marburg, even Wittenberg.
Wittenberg?
Yes.
He's in league with Luther.
Without question.
Then he's indeed a heretic.
You will find him and you will burn his books.
You will arrest him and bring him to me.
Come, Thomas.
I want to talk to you.
Have you come to play?
No, Anne, I have come to talk.
You would do better to play.
Your brow has a solemn line to it.
The world is a solemn place.
Go on, go on.
You play.
I shall watch and be amused.
Her youth and beauty touch me.
So much is evident.
And her nature, too.
Her smile, her laughter, her innocence.
They do nothing for you, Thomas.
Were I to let them, I am a married man.
Am I not?
You seek to reprove me.
It is not my place to reprove any, save myself, which I do often.
I also.
But a shirt of hair would make me itch.
And it is hardly seemly for a king to be a scratchy.
Would you reprove me for my shirt of hair?
I merely wish you would cease from scratching.
It is no more seemly for a privy counsellor than it is for a king.
What of this man Tyndale's testament?
Is the translation sound?
It has errors in it.
Tunstall would say three thousand.
How he can tell, I know not.
He does not have so many fingers.
The errors are not so many.
But the book is evil.
Evil will come of it.
Why?
Oh, come, Thomas, you are my friend.
I repay your honesty with mine own.
In all my ignorance and folly, I cannot see how a mere volume can cause
so much hurt.
Men will think, having the scriptures, that they have the truth.
But this is an illusion.
Will you say the scriptures are not truth?
Oh, they are.
But they are like a chart.
And though a man have a seaworthy vessel and a chart in his own tongue,
if he does not have a sailor's knowledge to interpret the chart, his vessel is
lost.
Scripture is a weighty matter.
Men need the wise counsels of the church to understand it.
But you read me, Thomas, in Greek and Latin, which are as familiar to you as
English.
Do you understand them?
In part.
In part?
But you asked Sir Thomas More.
If you should only understand in part, where is the man who would understand in
full?
Perhaps there is no man.
But the full body of the church...
Well, that's...
I have a problem with Catherine, my wife, who can bear me no child.
I have a problem with Anne Boleyn, who can bear me a son and heir to the
English throne, but I cannot take up a wife.
And such matters are not within the compass of my scholarship.
And I have a problem with Moses, who wrote in the scripture that if a man
should take his brother's wife, it is an unclean thing and they should be
childless.
Well, I took my brother's wife and I am without a son.
How would you interpret the scriptures?
I am not a theologian.
You are a scholar, Thomas, who is learning a second to none.
How should I, I, interpret the scriptures?
I would counsel you to seek the opinion of learned doctors, even of His Holiness the
Pope.
The Pope!
How do you think William Tyndale would answer?
That's... you must ask him.
There is much I would ask him.
I want him found.
I am a merchant, William.
My business brings me here.
By what good providence should commerce bring you to Marburg?
I looked for you and I found you.
And if I, it could be that John Hackett and all the king's agents are not far
behind.
You found me, Humphrey, because you're my friend.
And known as such, and because God wills it.
But what news do you bring?
Good and bad.
A new testament is spread throughout all England.
But everywhere it is burned at the express command of Wolsey and the king.
In burning it, they are doing only what I expected.
So shall they if they burn me too.
If they find you, William, they will burn you too.
For men like us, England is not a happy place to be.
Come on, get wood!
Come on!
John Frith, I am unhappy that you of all men should treat me ill.
Look, Cardinal, it is I who am brought from a dungeon.
Did I treat you ill, or is it the other way about?
I set you in my own college here in Oxford to work for the glory of God.
And before God, and this company, I declare that such is my only goal.
If such is your goal, why do you journey down a path that leads to perdition?
Luther's heresy!
Tyndale's heresy!
The new testament of our Lord Christ is not heresy, my Lord Cardinal.
It is a translation unlawfully made by a poor scholar whose heart is far from the
grace of God.
It is a true translation, faithfully made by one of the finest Greek scholars of our
age.
A man whose heart bears the stamp of Christ himself.
And this you know.
This I know.
Then, seeing you know the man so well, perhaps you will persuade him to come
before us and answer certain questions.
Of his whereabouts I know nothing, other than that he is abroad.
John Frith, are you aware that in this realm I am the Pope's representative?
That I make all decisions concerning religion as though I were the Pope.
I know that God has given us the scriptures.
Decide what you will, my Lord, but I shall stick with them.
Take him away, I'll have no more of this.
Would God that I had my hands on Tyndale's scrawny neck!
It is everywhere, from the highest to the lowest.
The more we burn, the more they appear.
And now this, the obedience of the Christian man.
It is a plague and an infection.
Yes.
So, if fire will not destroy this heresy, then your pen must.
Your grace, the law will not permit me to read heresy, much less debate it.
Let us not play games, Thomas.
You have a license to read whatever you will.
Moreover, I myself will pay you five thousand pounds to make an answer.
Five thousand pounds?
Why, I could live like a prince for several lifetimes.
I shall see to it.
No, I shall take up my pen against Tyndale for the glory of God and his church.
And I will not take a penny for it.
If you believe the promises, then God's truth justifies you.
That is, forgives your sins and seals you with his Holy Spirit.
If you have true faith, so will you see the exceeding and infinite love and mercy
which God has...
Anne!
Come in.
I thought you would stay forever.
Richard, you must not be here.
My mistress and the king is with her.
They're gone, they're gone.
But they may return and if they should find you...
Just one kiss, that's all I ask.
But Richard...
Just one kiss and I'll hold this book to ransom.
Give it to me.
Just one kiss.
The book is Lady Anne's secret.
Go, hide yourself now.
Come, you must help me dress.
The king is going to take me riding.
John, may God be praised.
Come in, come in.
How did you escape?
Not escape, brother.
We were set at liberty.
I, Betz, Sumner, Bradley, others...
Set free?
Has the good lord touched the cardinal's heart?
Woolsey, he could no more bear the stench of death.
And his cause is delicate enough these days.
So I've heard.
And too many scholars have already died at his hand.
But enough, I'm free.
God has dealt kindly with me.
Tell me news of William.
You saw him.
Aye, he is well in mind and body and filled with the spirit.
Though all the continent seems to do him harm.
Yes, and the work?
Goes well.
Soon we shall have the books of Moses, if God wills it.
I must go to him.
Now?
Yes, as soon as I am able.
If you've found him, then so shall I.
But why?
There is work yet to be done here.
None that is so important.
And what can I do here?
I dare not utter a single word.
You must be careful, aye, but...
Careful?
Men, women, children, all, from the highest to the lowest, are arrested and
burned for reading and believing the truth.
Much less for uttering it.
We must examine the teachings of the church by scripture.
But understand the scripture by means of what the church says.
You ask, if the air gives light to the sun, or the sun to the air, is the gospel
before the church, or the church before the gospel?
Is the church before the gospel, or the gospel before the church?
I tell you, the Romish church from which the Lutherans came out was before them,
and therefore is the right one.
Who are you?
What do you want?
What letters and books have you lately received from abroad?
Lately?
None.
Very well.
What aid have you given to any persons living on the continent?
None, for more than three years.
William Tyndale aboded me six months.
His life was what a good priest should be.
I gave him ten pounds when he left, but nothing since.
Where is Tyndale now?
I do not know.
In the course of trade, I met him once in Marburg, some months since.
But he departed then soon after.
So you have news of him?
Only that he was shipwrecked and all his works were lost.
Where he is now, I cannot tell.
And Miles Coverdale?
Is it not true that even now Coverdale is somewhere collaborating with Tyndale in
translating the books of Moses?
I know nothing of Coverdale.
If what you say is true, then you are better informed than I.
And what of these?
They have been openly on my table for more than two years.
I have never heard that any priest, or friar, or layman learnt any great error
from them.
You cannot put a dry stick in the fire without its burning, nor can you nourish a
snake in your vest without its biting you.
You stand accused of having maintained those who are translating the scriptures
into English, of having bought Martin Luther's tracts, of having imported them
into the kingdom, and lastly, of having said that faith alone is sufficient to
save a man.
What is your defence and plea?
None of this will I deny.
I have no defence, but I will plead.
I am a merchant.
What will become of my workmen if I am cast into prison or burnt?
They must have money every week, and who is to pay them?
Also consider that my trade brings in large sums to His Majesty's customs.
If I am not here, that commerce will stop.
Set him free.
Tread carefully, merchants.
The apostles taught by mouth many of the things they did not write, in order that
they should not come into the hands of the mocking heathen.
You ask whence comes penance, praying to saints, and purgatory.
I marvel that you should deny purgatory, Mr. Tyndale, except it be a plain point
that you go straight to hell.
And you say you love this boy.
I do indeed, my lord.
Then let it be said her love for you, together with my love for the Lady Anne,
have conspired to save you.
For if petition from each had not come before me, you would be nothing but
kindling for Wolsey's fires.
I am most humbly and deeply grateful, my lord.
And so you should be.
Now go.
Yes, sir.
And read no more heresies!
My lord.
So then, what is the volume that so nearly cost a boy?
This, my lord.
Read some to me.
Kings must make account of their doings only to God.
No person can be exempt from this ordinance of God.
Neither can the profession of monks and friars, or anything that the popes and
bishops can lay for themselves, except them from the sword of the king,
if they break the laws.
For it is written, let every soul submit himself unto the authority of the higher
powers.
Excellent!
This is truly a book for kings to read, and for me particularly.
Now, who wrote this?
William Tyndale.
Then I shall read it, and we will talk some more.
Tyndale.
Would that he were by my side in these times.
He must be found.
Thank you, my lord.
You are Stephen Vaughan?
Yes.
And you carry letters from the king of England?
Who are you?
I have been sent by someone who calls himself a friend of yours.
Someone who desires very much to speak with you.
Who is this friend?
Where is he?
I do not know him.
But if you come with me, you will see for yourself.
Why should I trust you?
Why should you not?
Why should I deceive you?
That is a question I should ask.
Your friend says you have been here in Antwerp four long months and accomplished
nothing.
How does he know this?
He has many friends here in the city.
He asked me to tell you that you can stay for another four and twenty.
Except that you follow me.
I have no pay for my ale.
It will be done.
Do you not know who I am?
I am William Tyndale.
The king would have you return to England.
The king does not know what he asks.
I can offer only the word of God.
Small comfort to a man who would put away his wife.
Whether he be king or commoner.
But his quarrel with Rome...
Is not my quarrel.
But if you have a common enemy, what does it matter if you have not a
common core, so long as that enemy is vanquished?
The king's mind is for Rome.
His heart is for Anne Boleyn.
His quarrel is with himself.
For me, heart and mind, I must care only for the word of God.
Then use the occasion for the word of God.
Come to England.
I have warned his majesty of the subtle ways of the clergy.
I am a loyal subject of the king.
I want him to know this.
Then come to England.
Here I suffer hunger, thirst, cold, the bitter absence from my friends,
hardship and continual danger.
But believe me, these matter nothing to me if I do honor to God, true service to the
king, and am of good worth to his people.
God knows I am not afraid to die.
Be with Christ.
How shall my work prosper if I am tied to a stake and burned?
You will be safe.
Say as much to Wolsey.
Wolsey is dead.
And Cromwell favors you.
And Thomas More is chancellor.
I will gladly lose an arm to gain my neck.
Ask what guarantees you will, and the king will grant them.
Such promises need not bind him.
For the clergy will persuade him that I am an heretic.
So you will not return?
But I cannot.
If I am unable to persuade you, why then did you agree to meet me?
To attest my loyalty to the king.
And to ask you to give him these.
That he might read them.
The night is drawing in.
Soon the city gates will close.
We must go our separate ways.
Shall we meet again?
God be with you.
Secretary Cromwell.
Declare unto your majesty what in my poor judgment I think of the man.
I do assure your grace that I have never spoken with a man who is more...
I don't want to know what he thinks of him, Cromwell.
Vaughan thinks too well of him by heart.
I have read this all.
Tyndale's disputation against my lord chancellor.
I tell you this, it's full of lies, sedition and calumny.
Then your majesty has changed his opinion.
My majesty has indeed.
Listen to this, this report from your agent.
This is what Tyndale would say to me, to me.
The king!
What impudence the man has.
If you would condescend to permit only a bare text of the scriptures to circulate
among the people...
I would bind myself never to write again.
I would throw myself at your feet offering my body as a sacrifice.
Ready to submit if necessary to torture and death.
Well at least he knows what he may expect.
But much of what Tyndale writes and speaks could work to your advantage.
I would beg to remind your majesty that you admired his scholarship and wanted him
to return.
And now I want him to stay away.
He is a perverse and hardened character who cannot be changed.
I'm only two Harbys out of England.
I shall find another scholar, another hundred and better ones at that.
It is a pity, your highness, that John Frith should be among the sectarians.
Ah, John Frith, who on earth is John Frith.
He is a man greatly distinguished in sciences and letters.
Ah.
He too holds certain opinions which may give comfort to your majesty.
Hmm.
I would beg to tell you, lord secretary, that Tyndale is no coward.
Yes, yes, I do not doubt it.
But when his own brother is paraded about face on a horse and branded a heretic by
none less than the lord chancellor...
Yes, yes, that was impolitic.
How then can I persuade the man that his safe conduct is assured?
A problem.
Or that a return to England would be to his advantage.
Vaughan, listen to me.
The king has wearied of Tyndale.
He has?
He strongly desires the reconciliation of John Frith.
Frith?
Who, he believes, is not so far advanced as Tyndale in his evil way.
Evil?
And the king, always full of mercy, is ready to receive him to favor.
So try to attract him charitably, politically.
Indeed.
This is a cause for sadness, Thomas.
What does your resignation say to me?
That high office demands of a man high counsel, which I cannot give.
Nothing more.
I think there is more.
I think you would tell me you are a man of conscience and cannot serve two masters.
Oh, my lord, I rejoice in serving two masters.
I serve you as my king, and I serve him who is master of us both.
Thomas, Thomas, you cannot agree my divorce from Catherine.
And this is how you've chosen to tell me?
And how will you spend your time?
In disputation and writing?
And poverty.
And go?
Thomas!
You're a reproach to me!
And would you go to England?
Yes.
John, there is no man on earth I love so much as you.
No one in the Lord who can accomplish so much of what I hope and pray for.
And shall I accomplish it here, in a foreign land?
Just be happy to accomplish it at all, wherever it may be.
Nothing awaits you in England.
What awaits me in England is no worse and no less than you have suffered here.
You've been hungry, cold, persecuted, shipwrecked even.
And we've all spent many years away from those you love.
What can England do to me that the world hasn't done to you?
John, you have a wife here!
You have work to do!
You ask me what England can do, ask those who can answer no more.
Ask Blonnie, ask Tewksbury, ask Bateford.
Yes, and as once you said to me, they will obtain a better resurrection.
If God gives me strength, I shan't flinch from the scaffold.
William, I go to England not because Henry requires it, but to spread the gospel of
Christ.
And how will you spread the gospel from a scaffold?
How many men will hear you?
What good will come of it?
I
must go up to Jerusalem, as God wills it.
Dearly beloved brother, be cold, sober, wise, and circumspect.
Keep you low by the ground, avoiding high questions.
Expound the law truly, and open the veil of Moses to condemn all flesh and prove
all men sinners.
Then set a brooch at the mercy of our Lord Jesus, and let the wounded consciences
drink of him.
Beloved in my heart, there liveth not one in whom I have so great hope and trust,
and in whom my heart rejoiceth.
Not so much for your learning and whatever gifts you have, as because you walk in
those things that the conscience may feel, but not in the imagination of the brain.
Do you not hold that the natural body of Christ, his flesh, his blood, his bones,
are contained under the sacrament, and are there present without any figure
of speech?
No, I do not.
Cleave fast to the rock of the help of God.
Stand fast and commit yourself to God.
He is our God, and his is the glory.
As the sheep bound by the hand of the butcher with timid look begs that his
blood may soon be shed, even so do I pray my judges that my blood be shed now,
if by my death the king's eyes should be opened.
Dearly beloved, fear not men that threaten, nor trust men that speak fair.
Your cause is the gospel of Christ.
A light that must be fed with the blood of faith.
You are not alone.
Follow the example of all your other dear brethren who choose to suffer in hope of a
better resurrection.
Bear the image of Christ in your mortal body, and keep your conscience pure and
undefiled.
Your wife is well content with the will of God, and would not for her sake have the
glory of God hindered.
As our Lord Jesus wept over Jerusalem, will he now weep over England?
Will he weep for those who kill the prophets and burn them which are sent to
her?
Will he gather the children of England, even as a hen gathers her chickens under
her wing?
I'm not a scholar, William, but it seems to me that in a good family the children
trust their father, even when they don't understand the wisdom only years can
bring.
Aye.
And sometimes, Mrs. Poynce, a good mother can say the right word to a faithless
child.
Who knows even now what the good Lord prepares for his people?
You know who I am?
Yes, Your Grace, you are Stokesley, Bishop of London.
And what do you know of me?
That you are wise and charitable.
Do not lie to me.
You know no such thing.
Tunstall was wise and charitable, kind and good.
I am wise.
Charity is something I use sparingly and not on rogues like you.
No, Your Grace.
Now I shall recount such that I know of you.
You are Henry Phillips, thief, liar, a villain, and a reproach to your
father.
Now, tell me, what common ground is there between us?
There can be none, Your Grace, between a rogue such as I and your good
self.
Oh, you fawning, pitiful creature.
I shall tell you.
What think you of these?
The obedience of the Christian man, practice of prelates, parable of the
wicked man of the church, the New Testament in English.
They are to be despised, Your Grace.
And their author?
He should be put to the flames and burnt.
There, we have common ground between us.
Tell me, why do you think does William Tyndale yet live and work and infect this
happy island with his poison?
Because he is crafty and conceals himself well.
So then, his capture requires a man of equal craftiness.
Yes, Your Grace.
Such a man are you.
You will find him, arrest him, and bring him to me.
But, Your Grace...
Or I shall find for you the darkest, coldest, wettest cell in all London,
and that is where you will end your days.
Yes, Your Grace.
Thomas More, how are the mighty fallen?
I am as near to heaven here in the Tower as I would be in my own home.
Thomas, I am your friend, and the King is a good and gracious Lord towards you.
That has never been in dispute.
Then say as much.
I have, and do.
Thomas, an act of Parliament has proclaimed the King's supremacy.
He is the head of the Church.
I have not uttered a single word against it.
And not a single word for it.
Your silence condemns you.
That's what they'll say.
It's treason, Thomas.
If I must die, the executioner will do no more than open the gates of heaven for me.
I shall die for my faith in the Catholic Church.
And as a good servant to God and the King.
But to God first of all.
In youth, all days were summer.
We rode together as boys, don't you know?
But now the summer is over, and I can only look back fondly.
You are a rare and true friend, John.
So also was Thomas More.
John!
No, no, no, let him be.
Prove my point.
Who but a true friend could be so bold?
None but a friend of one's youth.
Thomas was a friend indeed.
He lost his head for reasons of state.
But I loved him dearly.
Tell me, did not William Tyndale lodge here in years past?
Yes, a long time ago.
He was tutored to our children.
How was he then?
How was he?
Well, I have read all that he has written.
Seems to me such wondrous words speak well of the man who wrote them.
It seems to me you are at variance with your master.
She's my wife, dammit!
What other than she'd be at variance with me?
William Tyndale was, and still is, a man of courage, wisdom, and infinite
kindness.
So I deemed him to be.
Is still, you say?
You know him still?
By report.
He lodges with a cousin, Thomas Poynes.
You know the place?
He lives abroad.
We don't know where.
My cousin is a merchant, a traveller.
He may have shared a lodging at some time of business.
Nothing more.
You know, I often think the crown is heavy when my friends do not trust me.
God be with you.
Sir.
I am Harry Phillips, sir.
Come to acquaint myself to you.
Phillips?
Phillips.
I heard you preach this morning, sir.
A word, if I may say, full of truth and power, and much to the glory of Christ.
The word, would you say?
I was reading from Paul's letter to the church at Corinth.
But in English.
I'm a student at Louvain.
There the word is held in contempt.
I travel here as often as I can to listen and to learn.
Yes, I recall.
Phillips.
Merchants have spoken of you.
Highly.
And of your interest in the word.
Believe me, my brother, I cannot begin to tell of the joy brought by the freedom
here.
Everyone speaks of Christ without fear.
The city profits by the English trade.
So therefore we are safe enough and left in peace when close to the merchant's
houses.
And what of lodgings?
Are there any near the merchant's house?
William.
Thomas.
Harry.
This is my good and close friend.
Thomas Poyntz.
And Mrs Poyntz.
Welcome to our home.
We've heard much about you.
And I have you.
You are no less handsome a woman than was assured me by William.
William.
Her price is above rubies.
Have you been in Antwerp long?
Just a short time.
I find the city full of English merchants.
All followers of the gospel and strong in the word of God.
Such a one is Harry.
His outspoken favor of the gospel goes before him.
Though I fear he is rather more courageous than cautious.
The truth deserves boldness.
Though it shames me to say so to someone like you.
William, these have arrived.
Ah, these volumes.
You're familiar with them?
As with my own face.
Though I never thought providence would favor me with knowing their author.
If I may make so bold, I have prepared a meal.
If perhaps you'd like to come through?
Madam, it is written that angels have appeared in the guise of men.
I perceive not men only, but also women.
William.
How well do you know this man?
Why do you ask?
I cannot say.
He...
Can we trust him?
Thomas, of course.
How can you think ill of him?
He seems... he seems a man of quiet manners and godly behavior.
Let's go and dine.
Thomas, speak to him.
Tomorrow.
Let him earn your confidence.
You do well to speak of the dangers in Antwerp.
A man could be drowned and carried away in such a flood.
Ah, the rain will stop, believe me.
Tomorrow it will be fine.
But the enemies of the gospel will still be with us.
If you are to return to the city, you'll be advised to take a guide.
Return I must.
I have several purchases to make.
But tell me, you speak of danger.
Does Master Tyndale not fear that someone may be bribed?
A friend, perhaps.
Master Tyndale thinks well of all men.
Such thoughts would find no place in him.
I have much gold.
For what?
For my purchases.
Good.
Our friend is much taken with the city.
It is old and there is suffering.
And one is always afraid some new plague will appear.
But god is here and working out his will.
And you also.
I should like to come with you to witness your preaching administrations.
Then come.
There is always work.
And you, Thomas, will you also join us?
Tomorrow I must sail for London.
My business will take me some time.
Then it is but you and I, William.
We shall be about god's work in the morning and then we shall dine.
And at my expense.
Well, if that is your wish.
It is.
Indeed it is.
Sir.
One moment.
Here, friend.
There.
It is little enough.
Ought to be for once and ever what Christ was to us.
William!
Harry!
Now, we thought we'd lost you.
Forgive me.
I paused only to purchase this volume.
A gift for my tutor.
Ha ha ha.
You seem to know this town better than I do, Harry.
A morning's work done well and to the glory of God.
And by the grace of God.
It is he who does the work if we would but let him.
And so we have earned our bread.
William.
I think I've been robbed.
Robbed, Harry?
Where?
Well, I don't know, but...
It doesn't matter.
I carried only a few shillings.
Except I was to buy you a meal.
I have money.
I will buy the meal.
God forbid.
It was my invitation.
But perhaps you'll lend me the money I've lost.
There.
Harry.
I will repay you as soon as we return.
When you can, Harry.
When you can.
I'm doubly indebted to you, William.
Ron!
Harry!
Ron!
Save yourself!
Yes.
This is the man.
Take him away.
What have they done?
William!
And you, my love?
Are you harmed?
They have taken him.
He searched.
He took his books.
I have done what I can.
I have written letters.
But, Thomas, you have the King's ear.
His ear?
Yes, as well I do not have his gout or his ulcerated leg.
His ear, at least his sound.
I do not jest.
Nor I.
The affairs of church and state alike depend on me.
They depend on Henry's mood.
And that itself depends on the pain his body brings.
But you can speak with him.
He once stood very high of Tyndale.
He cannot so easily alter his opinion.
He cannot.
You can ask him.
Yes, I can ask him.
No!
Your Lady Anne required that I should ask.
When Lady Anne shall deign to bear a son, then shall I hear her request.
Till then, Tyndale can rot.
And she can rot with him for all I care.
William Tyndale.
The King of England has somewhat against you for crimes committed in that realm.
These do not concern us.
You have been arrested and stand charged with heresy.
In that, first.
You maintain that faith alone justifies.
Second.
You maintain that to believe in the forgiveness of sins and to embrace the
mercy offered in the gospel is enough for salvation.
Third.
You aver that the traditions of men cannot bind the soul.
Fourth.
You affirm that neither the virgin nor the saints pray for us in their own person.
And fifth.
You assert that neither the virgin nor the saints should be invoked by us.
How do you answer?
I answer thus with a clear conscience before God and man that I have never
maintained, affirmed, averred, or asserted anything contrary to the plain
meaning of God's holy scriptures on these alone.
And these alone I stand.
Would you say then that faith alone justifies and not works?
The fruit that grows on the tree does not make the tree good or bad.
It only makes known whether the tree is a good tree or a bad tree.
And works do not make a man good or bad.
They only make it plain to other men whether he who performs those works is
good or bad.
A man is reconciled before God by faith alone.
And works have only to make this justification known before men.
Such is the contention of the apostle Paul as it is written.
By grace are you saved, through faith, and that not of yourselves.
It is the gift of God, not of works, lest any man should boast.
To the Marquis of Bergen, I believe, right worshipful, that you are not unaware
what may have been determined concerning me.
Wherefore, I beg your lordship, and that by the Lord Jesus, that if I am
to remain here through the winter, you will permit me to be sent from my
goods a warmer cap.
For I suffer greatly from cold in the head, and am afflicted by perpetual
catarrh, which is much increased in this cell.
A warmer coat also, and a piece of cloth to patch my leggings.
And I ask to be allowed to have a lamp in the evening.
But most of all, I beg and beseech your clemency, that you will permit me to have
the Hebrew Bible, Hebrew grammar, and Hebrew dictionary, that I may pass my
time in study.
But if any other decision has been taken concerning me, to be carried out before
the winter, I will be patient, abiding the will of God, to the glory of
the grace of my Lord Jesus Christ.
Through spirit, I pray, may ever direct your heart.
Amen.
Lord, open the king of England's eyes.
When Tyndale died, there were already two Bibles circulating in England.
Each effectively contained Tyndale's translation of the New Testament,
and much of his work had been used for the Old Testament.
When one of them, Coverdale's version, was presented to Henry VIII, he was
assured by the bishops that they could find no errors in it.
Then if there be no errors in it, then in God's name, let it go abroad among
the people.
The following year, His Majesty authorized a small phrase of immense significance to
be added to the title page of the English Bible.
Set forth with the king's most gracious license.
On September the 5th, 1538, Henry ordered every church in England to display one
book of the whole Bible of the largest volume in English.
The whole Bible, printed in English, was at the heart of the Reformation in
England.
It remains as a memorial to William Tyndale, and an answer to his dying prayer.