EXT. KILLALA BAY – DAY
Whitecaps thrash beneath a stiff Atlantic wind — crash on the
rocky beach.
SEAGULLS wheel and scream overhead.
On the bluff, a GOSHAWK’s bronze feathers glint in the sun.
She surveys the rugged shoreline.
Predatory. Patient.
SUPER: COUNTY MAYO, IRELAND
OLD WOMAN (V.O.)
The English brought the Protestant
Ascendancy to impoverish us — and
cruel Penal Laws to crush our soul.
The GOSHAWK SCREECHES
It launches, soaring above a tapestry of rolling green
pastures, forests, streams — and large manicured estates —
mocking small thatched cottages dotting the fields.
Smoke from cottage chimneys and coal furnaces drift up,
grabbing the Goshawk’s attention.
It dives — lands on a Hawthorn tree in the center of —
A VILLAGE MARKET
Her wings fold, her talons curl around a high branch, her
eyes flicker — she scans the market chaos below.
A wiry young teen, O’SULLIVAN (15), leans against the tree —
vigilant. His fingers twitch — his eyes sharp — and on alert.
Two SOLDIERS appear through the crowd and approach.
SOLDIER
(whispers)
O’Sullivan?
He nods — motions: follow me.
They cautiously follow a few meters behind — weaving between
vendors’ stalls.
The Goshawk turns her attention to a table of mackerel
warming in the sun.
A barefoot child, SAOIRSE O’NEIL (5), maneuvers a wobbling
cart of eggs past the mackerel table.
The FISHMONGER dumps a bucket of fish guts into a gutter —
inadvertently splashing fish slime across her skirts.
FISHMONGER
Watch where yer goin’, girlie.
A well-heeled woman approaches — covers her nose — and with
eyes averted — pushes past the distraught child.
The Goshawk’s eyes flicker — turn back to O’Sullivan across
the market.
He slowly edges towards a chicken vendor’s stand — stops
short — and feigns interest in nearby vendor’s produce.
The chicken vendor, BRIAN O’HARA (50s), yanks a thin,
squawking bird from a cage — beckons a potential customer.
BRIAN
She’ll stew fine, tonight, miss!
The WOMAN approaches — he grins. Success!
O’Sullivan locks eyes with the soldiers — cocks his head
towards Brian — gestures: that’s him.
They un-shoulder their muskets — step forward.
O’Sullivan urgently gestures “Wait!”
They freeze — confused.
Saoirse bursts between the two stalls — her cart bouncing
over the muddy puddles. She stops in front of Brian’s stall.
BRIAN
Yer late.
The woman gives the ragged child a look of distain.
SAOIRSE
(fights tears)
Soldiers came to me house.
BRIAN
(shaken)
Again?!
O’Sullivan listens — the woman shows sudden interest.
Saoirse glances warily at the woman.
BRIAN
(panicked)
What did they want?!
SAOIRSE
(whimpers)
They took me Da away!
BRIAN
(softens)
Well, pray to the holy Mother that
he comes home soon, Saoirse — and
God-willing — none the worse for
wear this time.
The woman, now bored - clears her throat — impatient. Brian
hesitates — then returns his attention to business.
Ignored, Saoirse’s tears finally escape. Embarrassed, she
steels herself — unloads her eggs.
A SHOUT. Heads turn. REDCOATS escort an OFFICIAL through the
irritated crowd.
WOMAN
What now?
FISH MONGER
They’ll never leave us be.
A burly Redcoat shoves past Saoirse.
LEAD SOLDIER
Move!
She stumbles into the dirt — cart overturned.
CRACK! Eggs splat into the dirt.
BRIAN
I’ll not be payin’ for those.
He returns to his customer — too late — she left. He watches
her stomp away and disappear between stalls.
BRIAN
Go on then — ya pompous wench!
A soldier passes — seemingly embarrassed by his fellow
soldier, gives Saoirse a sympathetic nod but offers no help.
Brian angrily thrusts the chicken back into its cage.
O’Sullivan nods.
The soldiers strike — quick — practiced. They grab Brian —
throw a bag over his head.
Saoirse whimpers — scampers behind a tree — her small body
frozen in fear.
They drag the struggling man away through the upset crowd.
They pass O’Sullivan — and furtively slip a folded hankie
into his pocket — unnoticed. His conscience pricking, he
nonchalantly unfolds the hankie — four silver coins.
He smiles — then sees Saoirse shaking behind the tree —
traumatized — sobbing — pee pooling around her feet.
Shame and conflict flicker across his face. Torn between her
— and his family’s empty stomachs — he slinks away.
Redcoats help the Official onto a raised platform.
OFFICIAL
(Unfurls a parchment)
Hear ye! By edict of King George
the Third — Protector of the
Empire, Defender of the Faith.
The crowd hushes. Mothers rein in children. Some need a swat.
A one-armed man spits. Another shakes his fist. A baby wails.
Saoirse peeks out from behind the tree - swipes her tears
away — glares at the Official.
OFFICIAL (CONT’D)
The Irish tongue and color green, a
sign of defiance, are forbidden.
FISH MONGER
Ya can’t do that!
ONE-ARMED MAN
(snorts)
We’d best paint our pastures red
then. Would that be to his nibs
likin?
OFFICIAL
Catholics are commanded to convert
to the Protestant faith and swear
allegiance to the Crown.
AN ANCIENT MAN
Never! Feck off!
MUSKETS RISE.
OFFICIAL
(non-pulsed)
Or — hang.
The Goshawk SCREECHES.
The Official — locks eyes with the bird. It launches —
disappears into darkening clouds.
THUNDER rumbles.
SUPER: “TWENTY YEARS LATER”
Genres:
["Historical","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
2 -
Stormy Farewells
INT. THE O’NEIL COTTAGE - DAY
Wind moans through the shutters. Outside noise creeps in.
Barking dogs — a crowing rooster — clucking chickens.
A steaming cauldron bubbles over a rock-encircled peat fire —
it’s flames creating flickering shadows on the walls.
Saoirse, now 25, sits cross-legged and barefoot on the
earthen floor, braiding a child’s wet hair.
CARA (5) seated in Saoirse’s lap, plays with a rag doll with
button eyes and a red wool mouth.
COLLEEN O’NEIL (40s), thin, gaunt and pale, lifts steaming
potatoes from the cauldron and cuts them into pieces.
PADRAIC O’NEIL (40s) sits on a small stool whittling a piece
of wood while whistling a tune and tapping a foot.
Colleen turns her head — coughs into her elbow.
Padraic sneaks a potato from the pot - pops it into his
mouth. He YELPS and fans his burning mouth.
PADRAIC
(Sputters)
Jesus Christ!
Cara covers her mouth — bursts out in giggles.
COLLEEN
Padraic! Language!
PADRAIC
Couldn’t help meself, Colleen. It’s
hotter than the devil’s arse!
She stifles a laugh - smacks his shoulder. He flops off the
stool — groans — sneaks a wink at Cara.
CARA
(laughs)
Oh, Granddad!
Saoirse shakes her head — smiles.
A THUNDERCLAP shakes the walls and thatched roof.
COLLEEN
Storm’s coming. Best get a move on.
CARA
Promise ye’ll be home for me
birthday, Mammy?
SAOIRSE
Cross my heart, pigeon.
CARA
Will they let Da come home?
Saoirse’s hands pause, mid-braid - she fights back tears.
Colleen drops a potato - looks at Saoirse — sympathetic.
Padraic stops whistling — lowers his head. His face is heavy,
knowing they’ll never let Saoirse’s husband return alive.
SAOIRSE
(softly)
I don’t know, pigeon. Now let Mammy
up.
Cara jumps up. Saoirse stands — gathers her things.
SAOIRSE
Lady Ellen and Captain Tredwell’s
engagement party is tonight.
PADRAIC
Tredwell? Mike and Maddie’s boy,
David?
Saoirse shrugs — continues her preparations.
PADRAIC
Colleen, ye and Maddie were friends
— didn’t they move to London after
they lost their land?
COLLEEN
Aye, many years have past, Paddy.
Saoirse wraps a potato in cloth — shoves it in her pocket.
SAOIRSE
I can’t be late today. Lord
Crofton’s been in an ugly mood.
PADRAIC
Be careful of that one.
SAOIRSE
He’s fine. Normally pleasant.
PADRAIC
He’s an Englishman — as wicked as
the best of ’em. Don’t be fooled.
SAOIRSE
I’ve been there a week and the old
man doesn’t even know I exist. Ye
just worry too much about them, Da.
PADRAIC
And ye too little, Saoirse. Keep
yer wits about.
CARA
(Whimpers)
Mammy?
SAOIRSE
Yer upsetting Cara — for no reason.
COLLEEN
Leave her be, Paddy.
Colleen pours cream over a bowl of potatoes — sprinkles a
layer of salt — hands Padraic the bowl.
COLLEEN
Eat before it gets cold, love.
She wraps her arm around Saoirse — walks her to the door.
COLLEEN
(Softly)
He means well, but his nightmares
are back.
SAOIRSE
Aye. I hear him at night. But I
know to be careful, Mammy. I do —
I’ll be fine.
Casa grabs Saoirse’s skirt — whimpers.
CARA
Promise?
SAOIRSE
(laughs, winks — whispers)
Aye. Granddad’s just a worrier.
She scoops her up — smothers the giggling child with kisses.
SAOIRSE
Now don’t forget to say yer
prayers, do yer chores and promise
to help Nan and Granddad.
(whispers)
And I’ll try to find some sweets to
bring home for yer birthday.
CARA
I promise, Mammy!
Saoirse grabs her shawl from a hook on the wall — pauses —
hugs her mother tight — turns to Padraic.
SAOIRSE
Please don’t worry, Da.
She winks at Cara — wraps her shawl around her shoulders —
steps into the brewing storm.
Padraic stares into the fire — haunted — rubbing his temples.
COLLEEN
(massages his shoulders)
She’ll be fine, Paddy. Now eat
before it gets cold, love.
Genres:
["Drama","Historical"]
Ratings
Scene
3 -
A Storm of Fear
INT. CROFTON HOUSE – KITCHEN
MAIRE (50s), a scullery woman worn by years of hard labor,
scrubs the stone floor.
She flings a soapy rag into a bucket — groans — stretches her
aching back.
FOOTSTEPS CLATTER down the back stairwell.
MAIRE
Quiet down! Ye’ll wake the dead!
Saoirse bursts through the stairwell entrance — dashes across
the soapy floor — slips and —
CRASH — slams into the counter.
MAIRE
What in the name of —
Saoirse scrambles up - hysterical. Maire’s face darkens at
her cut lip, torn, bloody apron.
MAIRE
(struggles up)
Sweet, Jesus, tell me he’s not done
it again! Saoirse, I warned ya to —
SAOIRSE
(hysterical)
I — he — I begged him to stop — but
he wouldn’t stop! I swear I meant
the man no harm!
A WOMAN’s ANGUISHED MUFFLED SCREAM echoes from upstairs.
They freeze — eyes lock on the back stairwell. Maire crosses
herself — breath heavy — labored.
MAIRE
Run, Saoirse! Don’t look back!
Saoirse hesitates — Maire rushes her to the door.
MAIRE
GO!
Saoirse grabs her shawl from a hook — bolts outside. Maire
grips the doorframe — watches her head into the storm.
MAIRE
(whispers)
God speed, child.
She shuts the door — presses her back against it — clenches
her eyes tight.
Running BOOTS POUND across a wooden hallway. Her eyes flick
upward. She hesitates — then pushes off.
MAIRE
Coming, milady!
Genres:
["Drama","Historical"]
Ratings
Scene
4 -
A Father's Death and a Daughter's Vow
INT. LORD CROFTON’S BEDROOM – CONTINUOUS
Sprawled face-down on the floor — his trousers bunched at the
knees — blood pooling under his head — a bloodied, shattered
whiskey decanter nearby — is LORD CROFTON (80).
LADY ELLEN (30s), disheveled — frantic — shakes him.
LADY ELLEN
Papa! NO! PAPA! Oh God, please, no!
TREDWELL, a uniformed British Officer, drops beside her —
rolls Crofton over — presses fingers to the man’s throat.
TREDWELL
I’m sorry, darling. He’s —
LADY ELLEN
Nooo! PAPA!
Racked with grief, she cradles her father’s body — tears
cascade down her face.
Tredwell pries open Crofton’s bloodied fist — removes a
tangled clump of long red hair.
Maire stumbles into the room — stiffens. Her hands fly to her
mouth — her legs buckle — she grabs the doorframe.
TREDWELL
Where’s the chambermaid?
Marie looks to Lady Ellen — terrified, shakes her head.
LADY ELLEN
She won’t tell you! These Irish
slatterns are thick as thieves.
Every one — liars! WHORES!
Tredwell shoves past Maire — storms out yelling.
TREDWELL
Prepare my horse! Four men with me!
UNSEEN MAN (O.C.)
You heard the Captain! You four!
Grab your weapons!
Lady Ellen pulls a handkerchief from her bodice — gently
wipes the blood from her father’s face.
Her voice trembles — childlike — yet sharp with promise.
LADY ELLEN
That papist whore will pay, Papa.
I swear it! They all will.
Genres:
["Drama","Historical","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
5 -
Night of Desolation
INT. O’NEIL COTTAGE - NIGHT
It’s quiet. Peaceful. Serene. Soft rain taps the roof. The
rock-encircled fire is now a soft pile of burning embers.
An OWL HOOTS. CRICKETS CHIRP. FROGS ANSWER.
Padraic snores atop a pile of hay. Cara’s curled in his
protective arms with her doll. Colleen’s atop another pile.
CRACK! Colleen’s eyes snap open. She furls her brow — listens
to sounds drifting in from —
OUTSIDE
Tall black boots creep through the brush towards the cottage.
A DOG BARKS. Then YELPS. A musket pushes aside a branch.
CRACK!
Tredwell motions two soldiers to the back. They ready their
muskets and rush behind the cottage.
He withdraws one of two pistols secured in his waistband —
heads to the door — nods at another soldier.
The soldier kicks the door down and rushes —
INSIDE
Padraic jumps to his feet — Cara tumbles to the floor.
PADRAIC
What the — ?!
Colleen scrambles over the fire — scoops Cara into her arms —
races with her to the corner.
Pistol raised — Tredwell stomps across the broken door and
abruptly stops.
TREDWELL
Padraic?
Padraic throws out his arms to shield Colleen and Cara.
PADRAIC
What the hell d’ya want, David?
The younger soldier smashes his musket into Padraic’s face.
He topples to the dirt floor — bloodied — dazed.
TREDWELL
(to soldiers)
Search outside. I’ll deal with this
one myself.
Soldiers run out.
PADRAIC
(lifts his head)
Yer a big man now, David — but
ye’ll always just be Mike and
Maddie’s little boy from Mayo.
Tredwell flinches — rage and shame flickering.
PADRAIC
Mike must be rolling in his grave —
his boy doin’ the enemy’s bidding’.
TREDWELL
Shut your god-damn mouth, Paddy.
He snatches Cara from Colleen’s arms.
COLLEEN
No!
She struggles up. He kicks her down. Padraic pulls himself to
his knees, enraged.
PADRAIC
Take yer hands off her!
TREDWELL
Turn over her mother.
PADRAIC
What in the name of Jesus for?
TREDWELL
Murder.
PADRAIC
Murder? Whoever told ye that pap
had too much drink in his belly!
Cara tries to pull away — he grips tighter — she whimpers.
PADRAIC (CONT’D)
(rushes him)
I said take yer hands off her!
BOOM!
Colleen and Cara SCREAM.
Padraic clutches and stares at his mangled stomach — drops to
his knees — falls forward — dead.
CARA/COLLEEN
Granddad!/Paddy!
Tredwell shoves the smoking pistol into his waistband —
withdraws the second — aims at Colleen.
She throws her arms across her face and screams.
COLLEEN
No!
Cara claws at his arm.
CARA
She didn’t do nothing!
He throws her to the floor. She cries out.
COLLEEN
She’s an innocent child, David!
TREDWELL
Where’s — her — mother?!
COLLEEN
If she’s not at the Crofton House —
I don’t know!
Tredwell studies her face a moment — hesitates — conflicted.
His face hardens - he can’t leave witnesses.
TREDWELL
Then you are of no use to me.
BOOM!
Colleen crumbles — dead.
CARA
Nan!
She strikes Tredwell’s face with her tiny fists and sinks her
teeth into his hand. He curses — grabs his hand — drops her.
She clutches her doll — scrambles to the window and —
BOOM!
She folds into a heap — her rag doll falls from her hand.
Tredwell rubs his hand — winces — looks out the window.
The two soldiers he dismissed search the back. One looks in
the well — the other a fenced-in chicken coop.
The other two near the woods across the field.
Tredwell scans the room — picks up a worn bible by Padraic's
bed. A green ribbon peeks out from the pages.
Two soldiers return — stare in shock at the bodies.
Tredwell rips the green ribbon out of the book — throws both
into the dwindling fire — and gives the room a final scan.
TREDWELL
Torch it.
He stomps out over the fallen door. The soldiers look at each
other — “what the hell?”
They shrug — then dip straw into the fire and set the beds
ablaze — waiting to ensure it catches before going back —
OUTSIDE
Tredwell, backlit by the growing blaze scans the front.
A branch rustles. He stiffens — his eyes track movement —
then snap up to a nearby tree.
A GOSHAWK. Still. Watching. It lets out a piercing SCREECH —
launches into the storm.
Tredwell flinches ever so slightly — and heads to the back.
He looks across the field to —
THE FOREST
Saoirse runs for her life towards the clearing at the end of
the woods. Rain lashes her face.
Stumbling in the dark over uneven undergrowth and exposed
tree roots, she trips — crashes into a muddy ditch.
VOICES rise nearby. ENGLISH!
She scrambles up — crawls beneath a thorn bush — holds her
breath — eyes tightly clenched.
The soldiers plunge bayoneted muskets into random bushes.
Boots stop in front of Saoirse’s hiding place. The soldier
raises his musket.
TREDWELL (O.C.)
She can’t be far. Let’s move.
The boots pivot — disappear. Saoirse opens her eyes —
breathes — waits in silence.
In the distance; MEN SHOUT — a DOG BARKS — HORSES NEIGH.
She crawls out — races to the clearing — watches Tredwell and
his men their mount horses and gallop away.
She follows their path with her eyes — until black smoke from
her home curls into view.
CRACK! The cottage’s roof caves inward — flames shoot out.
SAOIRSE
CARA!
She charges across the field, gripped by panic and disbelief.
She shields her face from the blistering heat — takes a deep
breath — leaps onto the smoking window sill — vanishes
inside.
Her unearthly, PRIMAL WAIL, tears through the night.
Genres:
["Drama","Historical","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
6 -
Desperate Sanctuary
EXT. FOREST – NIGHT
Rain pushes through the forest canopy.
Saoirse cups her hands to drink water from a stream.
She freezes at her reflection; bruised face — hollow eyes —
swollen lip — matted hair.
She turns away — vomits into the weeds — splashes water on
her face — looks around — exhausted — ready to give up.
WOLVES HOWL.
She jumps up — scampers to the clearing.
A cottage swallowed by ivy becomes visible through the thick
fog. She races across the field — climbs the steep hill to —
FATHER MEEHAN’S COTTAGE
Dim. Still. Dusty. Bundles of herbs hang from the rafters.
The wind-swept storm batters against the roof and window.
A WOLF HOWLS in the distance.
The flicker of a single oil lantern illuminates a small
wooden bed. A crucifix hangs on the wall above it.
FATHER MEEHAN (60s) — curled in a fetal position, snores
beneath a thread-bare quilt — opened bible next to him.
BANG! BANG!
The old priest jolts awake.
BANG! BANG!
Disoriented, his eyes dart to the door. He angrily throws
back the quilt and struggles out of bed.
FATHER MEEHAN
For Christ’s sake it’s the middle
of the night!
BANG! BANG! BANG!
He yanks the crucifix from the wall — slips it under his thin
mattress — wraps the quilt over his nightdress — grabs the
lantern — shuffles towards the door.
BANG! BANG!
FATHER MEEHAN (CONT’D)
I'm coming, damn it!
He opens the door — braces against the cold, wind and rain.
Saoirse stands before him — battered, soaked — shivering.
FATHER MEEHAN
Holy Mother of God! What —?
SAOIRSE
(frantic)
I’ve nowhere else to go!
FATHER MEEHAN
Calm down! What are ye on about?
SAOIRSE
They’re all dead!
FATHER MEEHAN
Who?
SAOIRSE
Cara! My parents!
FATHER MEEHAN
What in the name of God happened?!
SAOIRSE
The soldiers — they came and shot
them — burned down our home!
FATHER MEEHAN
Why in the name of —
SAOIRSE
Because I — It was — I - he
wouldn’t leave me be, Father! But I
didn’t mean to kill him!
FATHER MEEHAN
Kill WHO?!
SAOIRSE
Lord Crofton!
Horrified, he yanks her inside — slams the door shut.
SAOIRSE
It was an accident! He tried to —
He grabs her - voice rising to a crescendo.
FATHER MEEHAN
Are ye mad coming here? Yer gonna
get me killed too!
SAOIRSE
But I meant him no harm!
FATHER MEEHAN
Ya think that matters?!
SAOIRSE
(confused)
But he — I need absolution! And
sanctuary!
FATHER MEEHAN
Sanctuary? Ye’ll not find that
here! Not when ye kill an
Englishman. Especially that one.
SAOIRSE
But —!
FATHER MEEHAN
But nothing! If they catch me
performing rites again, I’ll hang!
I’m sorry — I am — I can’t help ya!
He swings the door open — yells into the storm.
FATHER MEEHAN
I have no part in any of this! Any
who think otherwise can go to hell!
SAOIRSE
Father Meehan! Help me!
They stare at each other in a silence that lasts an eternity,
both struggling with emotions of fear and despair.
Finally —the old priest takes a deep breath and —
FATHER MEEHAN (CONT’D)
I’m sorry. I can’t help ya. All we
can do is pray to the Holy Mother
to show mercy for what ye’ve done.
He shoves her —
OUTSIDE
She drops to her knees — hands clasped — begs.
SAOIRSE
I meant no harm — please!
He sighs — hesitates — withdraws two coins from his
nightdress — grudgingly presses them into her hand.
FATHER MEEHAN
I’m sorry it’s all I can give ya.
He slams the door shut — yells through it.
FATHER MEEHAN
Ye were never here — I never seen
ya! Run now while ye still can —
and may God have mercy on yer soul.
She stares, stunned — fear — confusion — warring in her eyes.
The peephole slides open.
FATHER MEEHAN
I said GO!
She jerks back to her senses. She is on her own.
She lifts her skirts — races down the muddy slope — twists
her ankle — crumbles to the ground.
She cries out in pain. Cara’s bloodied, bloodied doll tumbles
from her pocket. She holds it to her chest and sobs.
SAOIRSE
(low-mournful)
Mammy’s sorry, Cara. I’m so sorry,
pigeon, I —
THUNDER startles her.
She gingerly touches her swollen ankle — winces in pain.
She removes her shoes — ties laces — slings them around her
neck — looks up at the night sky - eyes haunted — jaw set.
Her grief curdles then erupts — a raw, guttural howl of
anger.
A wolf HOWLS back.
SAOIRSE
(gets up — screams)
I won’t let the Devil claim me ‘til
I finish what they started. Tell
him he’ll have to wait.
LIGHTNING FLASHES.
Genres:
["Drama","Historical","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
7 -
A Prayer for Mercy
INT. FATHER MEEHAN’S - NIGHT
Candlelight shadows jitter like ghosts on the stone walls.
The old priest drops to his knees — hands clasped.
FATHER MEEHAN
Holy Mother, I kneel before ye,
sinful, ashamed, and unworthy.
Please — show mercy for the O’Neil
girl. The sin’s not hers alone.
His bony hands tremble — he crosses himself.
FATHER MEEHAN
In the name of the Father and the
Son and — and for God’s sake, mute
the tongues of any who saw her
here.
(beat)
In the name of the Father, and the
Son, and —
Genres:
["Drama","Historical"]
Ratings
Scene
8 -
A Night of Fear and Suspicion
EXT. MARSHY WOODLANDS - NIGHT
Rain streams through crooked branches. Saoirse huddles in the
hollow of an uprooted tree — arms hugging her knees — she
rocks back and forth — eyes vacant — unblinking.
Every rustle makes her flinch. A twig SNAPS. An OWL.
Distant SHOUTS — then horses hoofs. A WOLF HOWLS.
She curls tighter. Trembling. Her eyes well — but no tears
fall. There’s only silence — terror.
Another wolf howls.
Then a chorus joins in. She races to the clearing.
EXT. THE STEWART HOME – CONTINUOUS
The storm stops as fast as it began — now just a light rain.
Clouds part. Moon and stars illuminate the fields.
Saoirse limps out of the forest - sees a lone flame glowing
behind the broken window of a nearby stone cottage.
Sheep shelter beneath the eaves. A sickly trail of smoke
curls out from the chimney.
She hesitates — then limps to the door — knocks. No answer.
She raises fist to bang — the door slowly cracks open.
A weathered, ferret-faced woman, GRACE STEWART (40s), pokes
her head out — a knife gripped and poised.
GRACE
Who are ya? Who sent ya?
SAOIRSE
No one.
Grace studies Saoirse’s battered face. A flicker —
recognition? Pity? Remembrance — something softens her gaze.
She opens the door all the way — lowers the knife — slightly.
GRACE
What d’ye want?
SAOIRSE
Shelter for the night and a bite to
tide me over til morning.
GRACE
We’ve no room for strangers. And
yer interrupting me boy’s supper.
SAOIRSE
Please!
Grace gives her the once-over. Not impressed.
GRACE
No. The Mister don’t take kindly to
strangers — and I’ll not be
catchin’ hell for the likes of one
such as yerself.
She tries to slam the door.
Saoirse stops it with her barefoot — holds up a coin.
SAOIRSE
I can pay.
Grace’s eyes narrow, calculating. She re-examines the wretch
before her — slow, greedy grin spreads.
She looks around for witnesses — none in sight.
She snatches the coin — examines it — bites it — grins —
shoves it down her bosom and motions to Saoirse to go —
INSIDE
A kettle of steaming potatoes hangs over a small fire next to
a bucket of milk on the floor.
Saoirse warms her hands — watching two grubby, snot-nosed
young BOYS fight over a stick shaped like a soldier.
OLDER BOY
It’s mine, snot face! Git yer own!
The younger boy smacks the older’s — a fist fight ensues.
Grace grabs the toy and raps it over the boys’ heads.
GRACE
Shut yer gobs and mind yer manners.
We’ve company.
The boys rub their heads — eye Saoirse with suspicion.
GRACE
Sit yerself down by these ruffians
while I finish cutting these
potatoes. I’m Grace Stewart. Yer?
No answer. Grace frowns — suspicious — annoyed.
GRACE
Cat got yer tongue?
SAOIRSE
Sharon. Hamilton.
GRACE
(not convinced)
What’s a Hamilton doin’ walking
these dangerous roads alone?
SAOIRSE
Looking for work in Ulster. Is it
much farther?
GRACE
Ulster, eh? A day’s walk if yer
fast. Where is it ye be from?
SAOIRSE
County Mayo — Killala Bay.
Grace goes rigid — waves the knife at Saoirse — incredulous.
GRACE
Yer a goddamn papist?
OLDER BOY
Cut her, Ma!
Saoirse jumps up — arms outstretched in front of her.
GRACE
If the Mister finds a papist under
his roof, he’ll break yer head for
being here. Worse yet, mine for
letting ye in! Get out! Get —
SAOIRSE
He don’t have to know!
GRACE
Are ye deaf as well as stupid? Get
yer papist arse out of here!
SAOIRSE
Then give me back my coin! I paid
for food — and lodgings.
Grace re-calculates — breaks out into a shifty grin.
GRACE
(soft-directed to boys)
On the other hand, what he don’t
know won’t hurt him, will it, boys?
The boys shrug.
GRACE
The Mister’s out getting his fill
of whiskey. Crawl on over to the
corner and maybe he won’t notice
ya.
(growls)
But be gone before he comes to — or
there’ll be hell to pay.
Saoirse grabs a handful of potatoes from the kettle and
shuffles backwards to the corner.
She presses her back against the wall.
RAIN pings on a nearby bucket. Eyes on alert — she fights to
stay awake — but quickly loses the battle.
LATER -
A ROOSTER announces the start of a new day.
Morning light streams through the window and onto Saoirse’s
face. She opens her eyes — gets her bearings.
The MISTER sleeps sprawled across Grace like a sack of
potatoes — her shawl bunched up beneath his stubbled chin.
She tiptoes over — carefully reaches for it.
He SNORTS — lets out a long rumbling FART — groans.
Saoirse grabs a corner. He bolts up — fists clenched —
bloodshot eyes try to focus.
THE MISTER
(growls)
Who the feck — !?
Saoirse yanks the shawl — flees out the door.
Genres:
["Drama","Historical Fiction"]
Ratings
Scene
9 -
Chaos in the Countryside
EXT. FIELD BOUNDARY – NIGHT
Stars slowly become visible in the night sky.
An OWL HOOTS.
Saoirse slips between the hedgerows — avoiding open roads.
A farmer’s cart rattles in the distance, wheels crunching
over stones — coming closer.
She drops to the ground — doesn’t move — or breathe. The cart
passes — she exhales.
EXT. IRISH COUNTRYSIDE - DAY
The sun rises. A ROOSTER CROWS.
Saoirse hurries down a dirt road past green farmland and
thatched cottages — glancing behind for any sign of danger.
She rounds a bend in the road — slips in behind a group of
peddlers coaxing produce-laden carts around puddles.
A SCREAM!
Panicked, she looks for an escape route.
A massive hog bursts from a pasture, tethered to a sobbing
boy — PATRICK (13).
They barrel into her. She twirls and staggers.
The hog dives into a muddy ditch and squeals in delight.
The boy scrambles to his feet — tugs the rope — curses.
The hog bucks — SQUEALS — bolts back onto the road. Yanked
off his feet, the boy’s limbs flail about like a rag doll.
The crowd barely reacts — but MARY (7), apron full of eggs —
giggles — amused — until the hog clips her.
She falls. Her eggs shatter. She lets out a furious wail.
MARY
Yer gonna pay for these! And don’t
think ye won’t, Patrick O’Callahan!
The hog SQUEALS — barrels across the road into another field
— the helpless boy dragged behind.
Saoirse offers the child a hand up — but the child swats it
away.
MARY
Leave me alone!
Genres:
["Drama","Historical"]
Ratings
Scene
10 -
The Clash of Ideals
EXT. COUNTRY ROAD – DAY
A light rain fills puddles along the road.
Saoirse falls in step behind a group of peasants.
The group leave the road — head across a sodden pasture.
Curious, Saoirse takes cover under a roadside tree — watches.
The group head up a steep hill crowned by —
A HAWTHORN TREE
The Goshawk breaks through the cloud — lands on a branch.
Below, SEAMUS (30s) lanky and be-speckled, leans against the
tree addressing a group of soaked villagers.
SEAMUS
Now’s not the right time, Sean.
SEAN (14), an angry, malnourished teen, spits on the ground.
SEAN
Tell that to Paul Flattery’s
parents. They hanged him for
handing out leaflets! Leaflets!
SEAMUS
Lash out now and they’ll bring fire
and rope. Is that what ya want?
OLD WOMAN
What we want is to stop burying our
children!
SEAN
God, His very own self, gifted
Ireland to us. Me Da said to fight
t’get it back — or die tryin!
SEAMUS
And now he’s dead and yer family’s
left to fend for themselves.
Violence is never the answer!
Sean reels. He lunges — shoves Seamus to the ground.
SEAN
We can join Wolfe Tone! Storm the
Castlebar Barracks! Take their own
weapons to use against ’em!
Seamus gets to his feet — calmly wipes dirt off his clothes.
SEAMUS
Ye think rage is enough to win?
Rage burns hot but leaves only
ashes. If we fight like them,
we become them.
The GOSHAWK SCREECHES — takes flight — disappears.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
11 -
A Market in Turmoil
EXT. BELFAST MARKET – DAY
Gulls circle above a bustling, grimy market.
A skinny dog darts between stalls — a stolen fish flapping
from its jaws. The furious, red-faced vendor, gives chase.
A soot-covered boy shovels coal into a furnace. Black smoke
billows around him. He has a coughing fit.
A FISHMONGER cleans fish. A creaky sign above his stall
proclaims: “ULSTER’S FINEST FISH”
Saoirse hesitates — approaches the stall — head lowered —
hair covered with her shawl.
SAOIRSE
(whispers)
Would this be Ulster?
FISH VENDOR
(suspicious)
As the sign says.
SAOIRSE
Belfast?
FISH VENDOR
Aye. Why wouldn’t it be?
SAOIRSE
D’ye know Biggins Alley?
FISH VENDOR
(narrows eyes)
Catholic side — past the park.
Ye don’t want to be seen there
after dark —
(beat)
’Less ye be one of them.
SAOIRSE
(quickly)
No! I’m not.
A RUMBLE OF BOOTS.
The crowd scatters like crows.
REDCOATS escort a rotund OFFICIAL to a platform in the center
of the square. Angry shouts rise around them.
FISH MONGER
In the name of God! Leave us be!
ANOTHER VENDOR
For Christ’s sake! More?
Saoirse turns to flee — stumbles into a potato cart. A
calloused hand grabs her. Her shawl falls.
The POTATO VENDOR stiffens at the sight of her bruised face.
He picks her shawl up — covers her hair.
He pulls a potato from a barrel — places it in her hand. She
holds out her coin. He closes her fingers around it.
POTATO VENDOR
No. Not today.
(beat)
I have a daughter ’bout yer age.
Well — I had — a long time gone.
He glances sideways — then back to her.
POTATO VENDOR (CONT’D)
When the bells of St. Andrew’s toll
— make certain to vanish, lass.
He jerks his chin toward the platform. The soldiers help the
official up the steps.
PORTATO VENDOR
These English pricks will shoot
shadows if they dare twitch wrong.
The Official unfurls a scroll — clears his throat.
OFFICIAL
By order of His Majesty, King
George the Third — All Catholics
must present themselves before the
Crown magistrate to swear an oath
of loyalty and affection to His
Majesty’s throne.
Angry outbursts explode.
CROWD
“NEVER!”
“THE FECK I WILL!”
“GO TO HELL!”
BAM!
A REDCOAT fires into the air.
SOLDIER
Shut your yaps!
OFFICIAL
(covers his ears)
Must you fire that damn thing next
to my bloody ear, Lieutenant?
Saoirse’s breath quickens. She backs towards the safety of a
dark alley — disappears.
EXT. BELFAST STREET — DAY
Saoirse emerges from an ally — stops in her tracks. Two
Redcoats across the street lean against a tree — chatting.
She slips backs into the alley — presses her back against a
brick wall — struggles to remain calm.
She peeks out — quietly watches and waits for them to finish.
They share a joke — pull away from the tree and head down the
road. She slips out — races in the opposite direction.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
12 -
A Mother's Last Stand
INT. THE STEWART HOME – NIGHT
Rain pelts the roof and some drips into a bucket by the fire.
Grace and her boys sit close to the flames eating porridge.
Her face is now bruised — her mouth swollen and split.
BANG! The door shatters inward.
Tredwell storms in — two Redcoats on his heels.
The boys scramble back. The youngest whimpers. The older puts
his arm around him.
Grace, trembling uncontrollably — protectively throws herself
in front of her sons.
TREDWELL
Where is she?
GRACE
Who? There’s only me and me boys!
TREDWELL
Neighbors say a woman came here two
nights ago. Never left.
GRACE
Lies! Milord! All lies!
Tredwell smirks. Panic floods Grace’s face.
GRACE
But it ain’t even true, milord! I
swear it!
He fixes his gaze on the boys — cold, calculating — points to
the weaker, smaller boy.
TREDWELL
You! Speak.
The terrified boy whimpers — wets himself. His brother
comforts him.
Tredwell glares at the older boy.
TREDWELL
You.
OLDER BOY
(stammering)
She said Ulster.
Tredwell turns to Grace with contempt.
TREDWELL
So — you’re a liar — sheltering
Catholic fugitives?
GRACE
No, milord! I —
BOOM!
She drops — lifeless. Both boys — too stunned to scream.
TREDWELL
(barks at soldiers)
She’s in Ulster. Let’s go.
He storms out — his men follow close behind.
Genres:
["Drama","Historical","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
13 -
A Narrow Escape
EXT. BELFAST STREET – DAY
Coal smoke coils from chimneys. Wind howls down the narrow
street. A DOG BARKS — then growls.
Two Redcoats shove a young man against a wall — roughly pat
him down. The man winces — but says nothing.
A SHOPKEEPER bolts his door — pulls his child inside.
CHURCH BELLS PEAL — sharp — urgent.
Saoirse steps from the shadows of an alley.
A British patrol nears — rifles gleaming — eyes sweeping
doorways.
Panicked, she shrinks back — flattens against the wall.
They pass — she exhales — slips out.
She eyes a DRUNK slumped beneath a crooked wooden sign —
“THE TIN WHISTLE PUBLIC HOUSE.”
It’s O’Sullivan, the young informant, now thirty-five — a
broken-down, pitiful drunk.
She races to him. He lifts a bloodshot eye — checks her out.
O’SULLIVAN
What d’ye want?
SAOIRSE
(barely audible)
I’m looking for Biggins Alley. D’ye
know it?
DRUNK
(gruff)
I’m a drunk — not a feckin eedjit.
He extends a gnarled, dirt-caked hand. Her face falls.
DRUNK (CONT’D)
(grumbles, annoyed)
Figures — always askin’ — never
givin’.
He flops back down — turns his back.
Patrolling Redcoats approach. Panic floods her face.
SAOIRSE
Please, sir!
He sits up — notices her fear — sees the soldiers.
DRUNK
Shite, fine. Past the park and the
boatyard. Beyond the warehouses.
She nods — lifts her skirts — hurries away.
A Redcoat peels off from a group — approaches O’Sullivan.
They nod slightly at each other in apparent greeting.
The soldier jerks his head towards Saoirse — eyes
questioning. O’Sullivan shrugs.
Saoirse looks over her shoulder — the soldier stares at her.
She clasps her shawl — quickens her step. Suspicion aroused —
SOLDIER
You! Halt!
She freezes. BOOTS ECHO behind her — he spins her around.
Muskets BLASTS in the nearby distance — followed by SCREAMS.
The PATROL LEADER yells.
PATROL LEADER
THIS WAY!
His men race towards the sounds — muskets readied.
The soldier confronting Saoirse hesitates — conflicted —
spins around — races to join his patrol.
Saoirse quickly vanishes around the corner.
Genres:
["Historical Fiction","Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
14 -
Caught in the Crossfire
EXT. BOATYARD / WAREHOUSES – DAY
Wind howls through dilapidated warehouses.
Saoirse dashes between buildings, maneuvering around carts
and crates.
She uprights a crate, sits — eats a half-eaten potato.
VOICES ECHO from a cracked window above. She climbs onto the
crate — peers inside.
WOLFE TONE (30s), commanding, speaks to a dozen men.
WOLFE TONE
Catholic or Protestant — we’re all
Irish. The English’s biggest fear
is that we unite.
A shadow moves along the wall.
A hand yanks her down, clamps over her mouth, drags her away.
INT. WAREHOUSE – CONTINUOUS
The door BURSTS open. A barrel-chested, thuggish looking man,
BARRY (40s), releases and shoves Saoirse toward Wolfe Tone.
BARRY
(gravel-voiced)
A spy. Listening at the window.
Gasps. Faces turn away.
Tone jumps down — lifts her chin — touches her battered face.
She flinches.
WOLFE TONE
What happened to you, spy?
SAOIRSE
(fighting hysteria)
I’m no spy! I swear it!
DONALD CAMPBELL (30s), tall — handsome in spite of an angry
scar above his emerald eyes — steps from the shadows.
DONALD
Sounds like a Mayo lass.
BARRY
(to Wolfe Tone)
Might be one they’re hunting.
SAOIRSE
No! I’m not! I’m just —
WOLFE TONE
Well then — best get to where yer
going before curfew hits.
Barry pulls her to the door.
BARRY
(whispers)
Forget who ya saw or heard here. If
yer the one they’re hunting, many
of us could use the reward to feed
our children.
She nods — shaken. He pushes her out. Tone nods. Barry checks
his pistol — heads out.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
15 -
Reunion in Biggins Alley
EXT. BIGGINS ALLEY – DAY
The sun begins to fade. Laundry flaps on lines strung between
two grimy tenements.
Saoirse ducks beneath damp sheets — cautiously stepping over
muddy puddles.
She approaches a line of weary WOMEN and CHILDREN waiting
with buckets at the communal water well.
She taps a young girl on the shoulder. The startled child
throws her arms across her face.
YOUNG GIRL
It weren’t me! I didn’t do it!
SAOIRSE
I’m looking for Biggins Alley.
YOUNG GIRL
(turns, confused)
Ye be in it, Miss.
Saoirse’s eyes sweep the alley — squalor — peeling paint,
cracked walls, tangled pipes leaking foul water.
Her face drops — her voice cracks.
SAOIRSE
Does Siobhan O’Dowd live here?
YOUNG GIRL
(suspicious)
Depends. Who’s askin’?
SAOIRSE
Her sister.
The girl hesitates - uncertain - looks around — then points
to a nearby tenement.
The tenement door bursts open.
A rough-looking teen runs out — chased by an angry man
swinging a large stick.
YOUNG GIRL
Top floor.
Saoirse rushes —
INSIDE
Filthy. Loud. Crowded.
She climbs rickety stairs to the top floor — hesitates -
softly knocks on the first door.
Seamus, the man from the hill in Mayo, opens the door.
SEAMUS
Saoirse?
He looks down the hall — over the bannister — motions her —
INSIDE
A lone lantern casts dim light across the sparse room.
SIOBHAN (30), jumps up from the table, beaming with surprise.
She races to the door — embraces her.
SIOBHAN
Saoirse!? What are ye doin’ in
Belfast? Where’s—
Saoirse collapses into her arms.
LATER –
Saoirse, head bowed — hands folded — sits at the table.
Siobhan, sits across from her, sobbing into the crook of her
arm.
SIOBHAN
(sobs)
Ah, Jesus, please no! Oh, God!
Worry shadows Seamus’ face. He wraps arms around Siobhan — a
thoughtful but helpless gesture.
Saoirse lifts her head — eyes brimming with remorse — guilt.
SAOIRSE
If only I’d let him — I should have
just let —
SIOBHAN
(appalled)
NO! Yer safe here — with us.
SEAMUS
(incredulous)
We can’t take her in! Food’s scarce
and soldiers are crawling through
the alleys! Probably her they’re
hunting!
SIOBHAN
She’s — my — sister!
Seamus paces — fists clenched — breathing labored — stares
out the window. Decision made.
SEAMUS
I’ll bring her to Donald. Maybe she
can help around his house ‘til ye
recover from losing the baby.
SAOIRSE
(stunned)
Baby? Sweet Jesus, Siobhan. I
didn’t know.
Siobhan looks away — grief fresh — raw.
Seamus places a hand on her shoulder — his own grief and
bitterness mirrored in his eyes.
SEAMUS
Yer family didn’t care to know.
SAOIRSE
(defensive)
How could we? Ye stole her away
like a thief in the middle of the
night! Away from all she’d ever
known — away from me — to be with a
— a —
SEAMUS
Can’t even say the word?
SAOIRSE
(defiant)
Protestant — and we prayed every
day for her soul because of it.
Siobhan covers her ears — jumps up — yells.
SIOBHAN
STOP! In the name of Jesus, just
stop! I lost our baby. I can’t lose
my sister too, Seamus. No more.
SEAMUS
I’m sorry, love.
Siobhan wipes her tears. Saoirse fights her own. Seamus tries
to hide his.
SEAMUS
We buried him last week. No priest,
no headstone. Just Siobhan and I —
a shovel — and his poor tiny body.
SIOBHAN
(sobs)
We named him Padraic — after Da.
Seamus crosses to a dresser — pulls out a simple dress —
faces Saoirse — jaw clenched — words careful.
SEAMUS
I stole no one, Saoirse. I left
Mayo to follow my conscience. Yer
sister left to follow hers.
He tosses the dress.
SEAMUS
Get changed and hurry.
A baby WAILS in a neighboring flat. A door SLAMS.
Outside, muffled voices. A BARKING DOG.
Seamus goes back to the window — face grave.
Siobhan throws her arms around Saoirse — holds her close.
SIOBHAN
I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to
protect ya — and I’m sorry I left
without saying goodbye.
(voice cracks)
I should have said goodbye! I —
SEAMUS
It’s almost curfew. Hurry!
Siobhan looks over — as if seeing him for the first time.
Genres:
["Drama","Historical"]
Ratings
Scene
16 -
Shadows of Deception
EXT. BELFAST STREET – DAY
Flames lick up from lamplighter poles. Shadows lengthen
across the cobbled streets. Shoes slap over cobblestones.
Seamus leads Saoirse across the tidy park and onto a nearly
deserted street.
Saint Andrew’s church dwarfs pretty shops and row houses.
The MINISTER chats with a MAN and WOMAN on the steps —
genteel — smiling.
MAN
I hear the Peep O’Day boys plan
another round of burning tonight.
WOMAN
At this rate, we’ll soon be rid of
all Papists in Ulster.
MINISTER
(smiling)
Wouldn’t that be a shame?
CLANK. STOMP.
The church doors fling open. A REDCOAT patrol file out —
rifles slung over their shoulders.
One catches Saoirse’s eye a beat too long. Another elbows him
and grins.
Seamus tugs her — hard.
SEAMUS
Head down.
They dart across the road — turn onto a narrow lane of
manicured row houses — potted flowers displayed on stoops.
Saoirse finds herself in unfamiliar territory.
Pristine. Exposed. A world far away from Catholic alleys.
SEAMUS (CONT’D)
They won’t think to search here.
But ye’ll have to pretend to be a
Protestant.
SAOIRSE
(halts)
What?
SEAMUS
I won’t have nosy neighbors turning
him in for harboring a Catholic
fugitive with a price on her head.
SAOIRSE
But — I don’t know how!
SEAMUS
(hisses, urgent, low)
Learn how — or we’re all dead.
They rush up the steps of a tidy townhouse.
Seamus knocks — firm, quick.
A beat — the door creaks open.
Donald appears, rugged - black hair damp from washing —
sleeves rolled to his elbows — towel slung over his shoulder.
His emerald eyes light up in surprise at Saoirse.
DONALD
Seamus!? Well, what have we here?
Saoirse GASPS in recognition — turns to flee.
SEAMUS
(yanks her back)
Where d’ya think yer goin’?
Across the street, a NEIGHBOR hurries up her stoop.
She abruptly stops — glances over her shoulder at them — eyes
curious — sharp with suspicion.
Seamus tenses.
Donald flashes her a warm smile — waves.
She ducks inside — flustered.
DONALD
(to Saoirse)
Best get inside.
Saoirse slips past him. He pulls the door closed and stays
outside with Seamus.
His next-door neighbor CASEY (50s), races up his own steps —
gives them a wide grin — tips his cap.
CASEY
Evening Seamus! Donald — did old
man Graham raise your rent? He did
ours again! Don’t know what we’re
going to do to make ends meet.
DONALD
(slaps his back)
Don’t worry. I’ll talk to him.
Casey nods his thanks — bolts indoors.
Genres:
["Historical Fiction","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
17 -
A Tense Refuge
INT. DONALD’S PARLOR – CONTINUOUS
Saoirse stares at the unfamiliar trappings of a Protestant
home.
Confused, envious, angry, bitter, grateful.
White lace curtains, polished clock, books, a stiff, prim
armchair, that looks untouched by life.
She opens the curtains — just an inch — and peeks out at
Donald and Seamus.
They clasp forearms. Seamus hurries away.
Donald comes in — bolts the door - hurries to the window —
closes the curtains.
DONALD (CONT’D)
Neighbors drink tea by the window
and report what they see before the
tea even cools.
SAOIRSE
I’m sorry. I —
DONALD
No harm. Just be aware.
He rummages through a cabinet — pulls out a dress.
DONALD
We’ll get more clothes tomorrow.
Can’t masquerade as a loyalist in
clothes from the Catholic alleys.
He gestures to her dress. Cara’s blood-stained doll peeks
from the pocket. She gently pushes it further in.
DONALD
Come.
He hands her the dress — steps aside — motions her into —
THE KITCHEN
Supper bubbles in a cauldron above a small fire on the
hearth. A round loaf of bread warms in the ash.
He pulls out a rough-hewn chair for her — heads to the hearth
— ladles stew into a bowl — grabs the bread.
DONALD (CONT’D)
Hope yer hungry.
Saoirse shifts uncomfortable.
SAOIRSE
Why are ye helping me?
Donald pauses.
DONALD
I know what it is to be lost — in
need of help — hungry.
(bitter)
We were near starved when they
destroyed our crops. I swore no one
I met would ever go without help —
or food again.
Saoirse studies him.
SAOIRSE
The people in the warehouse?
DONALD
Don’t ask what ye’ll have to lie
about later, lass.
He places the meal in front of her — returns for his own.
SAOIRSE
How d’ye know Siobhan’s husband?
DONALD
The English gave us their farm when
they refused to convert. We let
them stay on.
SAOIRSE
(under her breath)
How kind.
He stiffens — smile gone.
He doesn’t turn around. He drops a log on the fire. Embers
crack. He stares into the flames — jaw tight.
DONALD
I’m not a Loyalist.
Conversation’s over.
CHURCH BELLS PEAL.
Genres:
["Drama","Historical"]
Ratings
Scene
18 -
Clash of Entitlement
INT. CROFTON HOUSE - NIGHT
A candlelit drawing room with floor-to-ceiling windows. An
ancient BUTLER stands rigid beside the French doors — silent.
Lady Ellen (20s), drunk and dressed head-to-toe in mourning
clothes — stares out the window — jaw tight with rage.
Tredwell lounges by the fire, brandy in hand, smug and slack-
jawed with entitlement.
LADY ELLEN
(without turning)
It’s one bloody woman.
TREDWELL
A shifty one, Ellen. With Wolfe
Tone stirring up things in the
East, it leaves me very little —
She hurls her glass against the hearth.
SMASH!
The BUTLER doesn’t blink — but TREDWELL startles.
LADY ELLEN
Excuses!
TREDWELL
Be reasonable! There’s a bounty.
Someone will talk. They always do.
She faces him — face filled with drunken disgust.
LADY ELLEN (CONT’D)
Father said you were just a uniform
with a pulse. Said to leave you in
the gutter with the other enlisted.
TREDWELL
And yet — here I am.
Her voice ices the air.
LADY ELLEN
For now.
Her eyes — colder still.
LADY ELLEN
If you were even half the man my
father was, she’d be dead by now.
(contemptuous)
If you want a place at the table —
earn it — or go back to the life I
pulled you out from.
She snatches a crystal bottle of whiskey — storms away.
The butler opens the doors before she reaches them — follows
her out — closes them.
Tredwell seethes.
The roaring fire crackles — laughting — mocking him. He hurls
his glass into it. Flames shoot up. His rage rises.
TREDWELL
Presumptuous bitch!
Genres:
["Drama","Historical"]
Ratings
Scene
19 -
A Night of Resolve
INT. SAOIRSE’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
Moonlight spills across the room. Rain lashes the window and
drums against the roof. Wind whistles through the window.
Saoirse gazes at the moon. Tears flow down her cheeks. Her
fingers absently stroke the charred cloth of Cara’s doll.
She grabs a lantern and heads into —
THE HALLWAY
The lantern flickers in her hand. She tiptoes down stairs —
the wood CREAKS with each step.
Half way down, she hears hushed voices. Male. Urgent.
She leans over the banister — peers down the hall, into —
THE KITCHEN
Wolfe Tone and Barry count stacks of silver coins at the
table. Donald scrawls numbers into an open ledger.
WOLFE TONE
Negotiations failed.
BARRY
Been saying it for months. They
won’t leave until they’re driven
out by the same means they came in.
WOLFE TONE
We need more money, Barry. We’re
only now making ends meet.
DONALD
How much more?
BARRY
A lot. Bribes, training, weapons,
silence — it all costs.
WOLFE TONE
No one suspects anything yet?
DONALD
(keeps working)
Don’t believe so.
WOLFE TONE
Then you’ll have to take more.
Whatever ye can steal — double it.
Better yet — triple it.
DONALD
Not possible. Old man Graham
already gripes we can’t match the
cheaper linen houses’ profits.
WOLFE TONE
Find a way. Napoleon’s agreed to
invade when we’re ready to fight
alongside them.
DONALD
How much time do we have?
WOLFE TONE
A month. I’m heading back to Paris.
General Humbert and his men are
preparing to sail to the Mayo coast
as soon as I confirm we’re ready.
A sharp INHALE from the hallway.
Chairs SCRAPE. Pistols COCK.
BARRY
(yells)
Show yer selves!
Donald raises a hand — calm down.
He gets up — peers down —
THE HALLWAY
Saoirse stands frozen halfway up the stairs. She looks to the
front door — counts the steps. Enough time to make it? No.
SAOIRSE
(quietly)
I didn’t know ye had company. I
just wanted some water.
DONALD
Then come down.
She hesitates — a long beat — then slowly descends the steps
— pausing at the door. She glances over at him.
He steps back — motions her into —
THE KITCHEN
Deadly silence greets her - the air heavy with suspicion.
She passes the table — head lowered — but sees the pistols,
silver coins, opened ledgers.
She veers to the counter — pauses. She scoops water into a
cup and stares in it — her face intense.
Barry watches her every move — coiled to strike. Wolfe Tone
returns his pistol to his waistcoat.
WOLFE TONE
Well now! The lass from the alley!
Saoirse startles. Cara’s doll tumbles from her pocket.
She picks it up with shaking hands — tries to scrub it clean
— but the blood, the burns, the pain — all remain.
WOLFE TONE
I wondered where and when you’d
resurface. Didn’t dawn on me it
would be here.
(looks to Donald)
At Donald’s?
She presses the doll to her chest — her jaw locked, her body
still — controlled fire in her eyes.
SAOIRSE
(spins around)
I want to help be rid of them. I’ll
do anything ye ask.
WOLFE TONE
(chuckles)
What skills do ye have besides
eavesdropping — albeit a worthy
skill — if successful.
SAOIRSE
Hatred. The English are not human.
I aim to make them pay for it.
WOLFE TONE
Oh, they may be cruel, but they’re
nonetheless human. Don’t ever
forget that.
BARRY
Why should we trust the likes of
one such as yerself?
Saoirse glares — SLAMS both hands on the table. He flinches.
SAOIRSE
(defiant)
Why should I trust the likes of one
such as yerself?
WOLFE TONE
Because we want the same thing,
Saoirse O’Neil.
The name strikes her like a slap. She turns to Donald — eyes
blazing at his betrayal.
DONALD
I said nothing.
BARRY
Didn’t have to. We knew of ya long
before ye knew of us.
(smirks)
There’s nothing goes on in Ireland
that doesn’t quickly come to our
attention.
WOLFE TONE
We sorrow with you for your loss.
SAOIRSE
Comforting’s not what I be needing!
WOLFE TONE
Then what pray tell is it you’re
needing? Revenge?
SAOIRSE
Justice.
WOLFE TONE
Get caught and Lady Justice will
see you hang — if you’re lucky.
SAOIRSE
I’m already dead. They killed me
when they killed my family.
WOLFE TONE
Is that a fact?
SAOIRSE
It is. I’ve nothing left to lose. I
can only go to hell once and I plan
on making it well worth my trouble.
Wolfe Tone studies her. No smile now. Just silence — and
something close to respect.
SAOIRSE (CONT’D)
(Defiant)
Well?
He withdraws a green ribbon from his coat — holds it out.
She hesitates — looks to Donald. He nods. She grabs the
ribbon — ties it into her hair.
WOLFE TONE
Welcome to the fight, Saoirse.
DONALD
To freedom!
SAOIRSE
(finally breathes)
To justice.
BARRY
To getting the hell back to
business. My daughter Gertie’s
under the weather. I need to get
home — now that I’m mother too.
Barry pulls a folded paper from his coat — slides it across
the table to Saoirse.
BARRY
Make yer mark.
Donald hands her his quill. She looks up — embarrassed.
DONALD
(gentle)
Just make an X.
She scratches an “x” — slides the paper back to Barry.
BARRY
Good. Now yer one of us and once
yer in, yer in for life — as long —
or as short, as that might be.
SAOIRSE
What do ye want me to do?
WOLFE TONE
Donald pilfers money from the
bleaching house to cover expenses.
We need more and we need it
quickly. You’ll help him.
She raises an eyebrow — looks to Donald.
WOLFE TONE
Time for us to take our leave.
They head into —
THE HALLWAY
The rebels slip out into the night. Donald latches the door
— turns to Saoirse.
DONALD
Well, that’s settled. Get some
rest. We’ll talk in the morning.
He disappears up the stairs — taking two at a time.
INT. SAOIRSE’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
Saoirse stands at the window. Cara’s doll peeks from the
pocket of her nightdress. Tears stream.
She stares up at the stars through her tears.
A CLAP OF THUNDER startles her.
She shivers — pulls her shawl tighter across her shoulders.
INT. DONALD’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
RAIN BATTERS the window. WIND HOWLS. Moonlight streaks across
Donald’s face. He tosses in bed.
A distant CANNON BLAST shakes the walls.
His body jerks. Sweat beads on his brow. He moans, twisting
in the sheets.
Outside, DOGS whimper in fright.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
20 -
Night of Terror
INT. A COTTAGE – KITCHEN – NIGHT
A low turf fire glows in the hearth. A ten-year-old BOY lies
curled on a makeshift cot in the corner.
CRACK! His eyes snap open — he listens.
CRICKETS. AN OWL HOOTS. A DOG BARKS.
He waits — tosses off his blanket — slips off the bed — pads
quietly to the door.
He unbolts the latch — cracks it open — peers into the dark.
Just trees and pasture. He exhales — starts to close it.
CRACK!
It BURSTS back open! The boy’s knocked to the ground.
A wiry TEENAGER barrels in — bolts the door - helps him up.
BOY
Jesus! Ye scared me half to death!
TEEN
Had to wait for cloud cover. Lower
yer voice, ye’ll wake our folks.
BOY
Soldiers came lookin’ for ya. My Da
told ’em we hadn’t seen ya. Assumed
ye were dead.
TEEN
My Da?
BOY
Like mine — Grumpy.
The teen kneels by the fire — rubs warmth into his fingers.
BOY
Hungry? My Ma made bannock soup.
TEEN
Aye, I’m starved.
HOOFBEATS. NEIGHING. DISTANT SHOUTS.
They tense, then —
TEEN
Christ almighty!
He scrambles to the back window. The boy hoists him up — he
disappears into the night.
CRASH!
The front door caves in! REDCOAT SOLDIERS storm inside —
muskets raised.
BOY
What d’ye —?
CRACK! A musket butt SLAMS into his head.
Blood spurts. The floor tilts. He crumples to the floor —
blackness envelopes him.
A MUSKET BLAST
The boy slowly regains consciousness — dazed. Blood drips
into his eyes. He tries to sit up — the room spins.
Through the blur, he sees a Redcoat storm into —
THE BEDROOM
A soldier rifles through drawers. Another stares down a
TERRIFIED COUPLE cowering in bed, backs pressed to the wall.
SOLDIER
(raises his musket)
Lyin’ bitch.
The man throws himself across the terrified woman and yells.
MAN
For God’s sake, she’s telling the
truth! We haven’t seen him for —
BANG!
The shot TEARS through the man’s chest. The woman SCREAMS.
Blood splashes across the her white nightdress. Hysterical,
she tries to push her husband’s body off her.
The boy appears — clutches the doorframe — tries to stand.
His eyes lock on the scene — horror, disbelief. He opens his
mouth — no sound comes out.
Another soldier enters — SMASHES his musket into the boy’s
skull. CRACK! Darkness swallows the boy once again.
Genres:
["Drama","Historical","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
21 -
Morning Tensions
INT. DONALD’S BEDROOM – DAY
Morning light streams into the room. Rooster crows. Dog
barks. Noise creeps in from street as the town comes alive.
Donald moans and tosses in bed.
A CANNON BLAST.
He jolts up — eyes wide — beads of sweat — gasping for air.
His hand flies to the angry scar above his eye.
SAOIRSE (O.S.)
Donald! It’s going to get cold!
INT. DONALD’S KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS
Donald walks in — sees Saoirse trying to use an axe to cut
wood for the dwindling hearth fire.
She grows impatient with each missed hack. He grins — wraps
his hand over hers - shows her how to wield the heavy axe.
DONALD
(steady, calm)
It’ll hold better if yer gentle.
Not everything is won with force.
She looks at him, torn between appreciation and irritation.
She scoops steaming porridge from the cauldron — sets it on
the table with a loaf of oat bread.
SAOIRSE
While it’s hot.
She watches him take a bite, then —
SAOIRSE
Donald — is Seamus part of —
DONALD
No. And he doesn’t know I am. Let’s
keep it that way.
(beat)
We have to quiet our demons in our
own way. He can’t accept my need
for revenge - I cannot accept his
need to forget.
SAOIRSE
Why do they live in that wretched
alley? They converted.
DONALD
He’s a hedgerow teacher. To teach
Catholics, he needs their trust.
And trust is earned.
She stares at him — taking everything in.
A CANNON BOOMS in the distance.
Saoirse bows her head — crosses herself.
DONALD
Don’t do that. Dead give-away.
She freezes mid-cross — embarrassed.
SAOIRSE
Do Protestants not pray?
DONALD
Some do. I’m just not one of them.
Besides — even if there is a God,
he’s made it clear he’s not for us,
so he can go straight to hell.
She GASPS — clutches her chest — recoils — waiting for
lightning to strike him dead.
DONALD
(laughs)
We’d best get ready for church. The
men of God hate it when we’re late.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
22 -
A Morning Encounter
EXT. DONALD’S HOME – CONTINUOUS
Saoirse stands on the stoop.
CASEY steps out from his home tips his hat with a neighborly
smile.
She lowers her head — avoids his eyes.
CHURCH BELLS PEAL.
Donald comes out adjusting his cuffs.
CASEY
Morning, Donald!
DONALD
Casey!
Casey’s wife Mary (40s), steps out — raises an eyebrow.
MARY
A grand day for a walk after
church, for yerself and — ?
She scans Saoirse with pointed interest. Casey throws Donald
an apologetic look.
DONALD
Where are my manners? Mary, this is
my cousin… Anne. Anne, meet Mary.
MARY
Anne. Such a lovely name. So, where
is it ye be from, dear?
Saoirse shifts under the question, unsure how to answer.
Casey notices — saves her.
CASEY
Come, love. We’ll be late and get
another fine from the minister.
He tucks Mary’s arm into his and nudges her down the steps.
She grudgingly lets him, but looks over her shoulder, smiling
all the way down.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Intrigue"]
Ratings
Scene
23 -
A Promise of Peace
EXT. PASTURE. DAY
Seamus and Siobhan kneel by a small mound by a Hawthorn
marked with a tiny wooden cross.
Seamus lays a sprig of heather atop it.
Siobhan places her shaking hand gently on the grave — and
sobs — no longer able to hold it in.
SEAMUS
(mournful voice breaks)
Ye’ll be kept alive in our peace,
son — not our thirst for vengeance.
That’s our promise.
He stands — slowly — resolved. He helps Siobhan to her feet —
tries to comfort her in his arms — wipes away her tears.
SEAMUS
If I’d fought harder — maybe worked
for them instead — maybe we’d have
a child still.
Siobhan shakes her head firmly.
SIOBHAN
Don’t you dare blame yourself. The
world’s cruelty is not yours to
carry. Yer a good man, Seamus.
SEAMUS
They’ll be waiting for us, love.
He wraps his arm around her shoulder and leads her away.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
24 -
A Toast to Unity and Rebellion
EXT. THE TIN WHISTLE PUB - DAY
The pub overflows with life — laborers, factory workers and
servants — smoking pipes, drinking, roaring with merriment.
A man plays the fiddle. His young son and daughter dance a
jig. Their smiling, very pregnant mother, taps her feet in
time to the music — while holding a tip bucket on her belly.
Another pregnant woman, MRS. FINN (30s) balances a toddler on
her hip and sells flowers table to table.
At the bar, Barry’s buxom daughter GERTIE (20s), flashes a
cheeky smile at customers while pouring drinks.
She hands a mug to O’Sullivan, who’s already inebriated and
seated at the bar.
Two serving lads grab trays and dart off with pints.
Saoirse, Donald, Seamus, and Siobhan eat dinner in a shadowed
corner.
SEAMUS
We’ll start yer lessons tomorrow,
Saoirse. But fair warnin’ — I’m a
harsh taskmaster. Right, Donald?
DONALD
Aye. Ye were. Still are.
Laughter. They clink cups.
The door swings open — a BURST of cold wind fills the room.
O’SULLIVAN
Shut the damn door. It's colder
than a witch's tit out there.
Two rough-looking men escort Wolfe Tone into the room.
Saoirse chokes on her food. Donald pats her back.
Wolfe Tone carries himself with an air of authority, through
the path opened to the bar.
His men remain at the door, arms folded across barrel chests.
The room quiets.
A door in the far end of the room opens.
Barry comes out — makes his way through the crowd to the bar.
BARRY
Gentlemen. A friend. Founder of the
"Society of United Irishmen" Mr.
Theobald Wolfe Tone.
MUSIC STOPS - Crowd GRUMBLES.
O’Sullivan perks up.
O’SULLIVAN
The Protestant trouble-making
lawyer from Dublin? Feck off.
(taps his cup)
Gertie! Another!
BARRY
Pipe down! Won’t kill ya to listen!
WOLFE TONE
Gentlemen. To the English, Irish is
Irish. They keep us divided on
purpose. Unity is their greatest
fear — and our only hope.
Seamus stands, voice calm but firm — addresses the assembled.
SEAMUS
That man’s words are meant to light
fires but the flames only seem to
burn the poor. Every man I’ve seen
take up arms just leaves behind a
widow or an orphan.
(to Tone)
Violence solves nothing. If we
fight like them, we become them. I
choose teaching over killing.
WOLFE TONE
But what happens when the killing
chooses you?
Seamus scoffs.
SEAMUS
I meant what I said. I’d rather
mend than bury our people, Tone.
Saoirse listens intently to his words — hesitates — suddenly
torn between admiration and frustration.
Siobhan cups her hand - whispers.
SIOBHAN
I just want to make it to spring.
I’m with child again!
Saoirse gasps. Donald grins.
Frustrated — unwilling to engage further, Seamus grabs
Siobhan’s hand and helps her up.
SEAMUS
We’re leaving. Don’t get mixed up
in this, you two. No good can come
from the likes of men like him.
They push through the crowd. Others follow. Wolfe Tone
signals the guards at the door to block the exit.
A wiry server, PETER O’REGAN (16) steps forward.
PETER
The Peep O’Day Boys burned our
house and Redcoats shot me Da.
Everyone knew he was innocent — but
nobody — Protestant or Catholic —
lifted a finger to stop ‘em.
Mrs. Finn adjusts the toddler on her hip.
MRS. FINN
We can’t fight English muskets with
shovels, Peter.
PETER
But if we unite — maybe we can have
a better chance.
MRS. FINN
And if ye die?
PETER
We die united — like he says.
MRS. FINN
(screeching)
But ye still DIE, ya stupid fart!
PETER
Och! What the hell do Finn know?
She sets the toddler and basket down — takes a breath —
clenches her fist — stomps over — grabs him by his chin.
MRS. FINN
I know me husband’s be still dead!
I know the English still rule us!
And I know me and mine still go
hungry — ya foul-mouthed little
piss ant!
She scoops her child and basket up — turns on Wolfe Tone.
MRS. FINN (CONT’D)
Yer gonna get them killed and ye’ll
not be takin’ another of mine.
She marches to the door. The guards block her.
MRS. FINN
Get the hell outta me way, Jack
Dawson, or I’ll bust yer filthy
balls. Yours too, Joey Sheehan if
ye even have any.
They flinch — look to Tone. He raises a hand and bellows.
WOLFE TONE
Make no mistake, Madam! We of
course aim to work within the law —
to negotiate a reform of
Parliament.
Silence. He nods. The guards step aside.
Mrs. Finn snorts — storms out.
Seamus, Siobhan, and a half-dozen others follow suit.
The guards shut and bolt the doors behind them.
PETER
As I thought. Ye’ll do shite.
He wipes his eyes with his fist.
WOLFE TONE
(laughs)
Now if I DID say any of those
things, son — I’d be lying.
O’SULLIVAN
Och! If talk’s all ye have to offer
us, haul yer arse on out of here.
DRUNK TWO
Aye! If we're not gonna fight we've
serious drinking to attend to, so
feck right the hell off.
WOLFE TONE
Hear me out! The English divide us
to keep us weak. To survive them,
we must unite.
(beat)
Irish Protestant and Irish Catholic
against a common enemy — and if the
men of property don’t support us,
they must fall. Our strength comes
from you — the men of no property.
He pulls a green ribbon from his pocket — holds it up.
GASPS!
The crowd, now in dangerous territory, cast furtive glances.
WOLFE TONE
Like the American colonies, we too
can regain dignity in our own land.
Like he did for them, Napoleon has
promised to help us too — with
ships, weapons — AND men!
Stunned silence. Faces perplexed — Can it be true? He lets
his words percolate.
WOLFE TONE
I’ve assured Bonaparte we’ll be
ready to fight beside them once
they land in Mayo.
(smiles)
General Humbert and his troops are
preparing the ships as we speak!
PANDEMONIUM!
BARRY
We have a short time to get ready.
Join us. Help free our country.
WOLFE TONE
Hennessy and his men have sign-up
sheets for those willing to stand
and fight.
HENNESSY and his Men jump up from various tables — pull sign-
up papers from their coats, wave them in the air.
The suddenly sober crowd surrounds them, anxious to sign up.
The celebratory atmosphere intensifies — all wild in
excitement — finally — a glimmer of hope.
Exuberant at the turn of events, Hennessy places the sign-up
sheets in a pile on the bar.
The new recruits surround him and slap his back, their faces
filled with hope and joy.
HENNESSEY
Gertie! An ale if it pleases ya!
GERTIE
It do, indeed. Comin up, handsome.
She winks, flirtatious. He responds - surprised — pleased.
O’Sullivan’s elbows closer to Hennessy — “accidentally”
knocks the pile of sign-up sheets to the floor.
HENNESSY
WATCH IT!
O’Sullivan drops to his kneels — scoops them up — scans names
- covertly pockets a few sheets in his waistcoat.
O’SULLIVAN
(places papers on bar)
Sorry — excitement took over me!
Hennessy quickly grabs the pile — shoves them into his
waistcoat — looks back at Gertie — smiles.
HENNESSY
Me too.
O’Sullivan downs his drink — joins the celebration — the
perfect patriot.
WOLFE TONE
Welcome to the fight, gentlemen!
EVERYONE
To Ireland!
Saoirse stands and beams.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Political Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
25 -
Chaos in the Market
EXT. CROWDED MARKET – DAY
The summer sun blazes over Belfast’s bustling market. Vendors
bark out prices. Children dart between carts.
Donald and Saoirse stroll arm-in-arm, stall to stall —
enjoying the summer day, examining the wares and produce.
A STRANGER bumps into Donald, spilling a sack of grain. The
man curses — frustrated — apologetic.
Donald kneels — helps him scoop it back into the sack. The
man apologizes again.
DONALD
No harm done.
He and Saoirse continue past a flower stand. He buys a
bouquet of yellow flowers, hands them to her with a flourish.
She giggles, gives him a peck.
A small CHILD passes, grunts, struggling to carry a bucket of
water, half his size, between stalls.
Donald strides over, lifts it with ease.
CHILD
(false bravado)
I can do it — I turned four!
Donald sets the bucket down — kneels — winks at him.
DONALD
Oh, I know ye can, lad!
(whispers)
But — would ye mind if me and me
missus walk beside ya?
The child smiles — relieved. Saoirse grins — her growing
affection for Donald, apparent.
They walk the child to a stall — help him lift the bucket
onto the table. The child wipes sweat - his eyes beam.
CHILD
See? I did it!
Saoirse holds in a chuckle.
DONALD
Aye ye did! Yer a fine, big,
strapping lad, son! Ye’d make any
Da proud!
(MORE)
DONALD (CONT'D)
(to Saoirse)
Wouldn’t he, love?
She nods. They wave goodbye and continue towards a potato
cart.
Peter O’Regan, the young server from the pub, juggles dirt-
covered potatoes — showing off to a cluster of giggling
girls.
His grinning little brother JOEY (8), watches wide-eyed,
proud and entertained, until —
JOEY
Oh, oh — Peter!
Peter’s grin fades. He looks over his shoulder, grimaces.
His mother, MRS. O’REGAN (40s), wiry, fierce, arms folded,
stands behind him — hands on hips — eyes darting daggers.
MRS. O’REGAN
Peter James Philip O’Regan! What
d’ye think yer doin’?
PETER
Workin’, Ma! Chattin’ up a buyer—
(nods at Saoirse)
Her mister was just about to —
MRS. O’REGAN
Pick up them spuds — not the girls.
He scrambles to collect them. She tries not to smile.
Three more TEENAGE GIRLS swoop in.
TEENAGE GIRLS
Hiiii, Peter!
His smirk returns. He winks at Joey — tosses more potatoes —
thrilled at having another audience.
MURMURS breaks out.
Faces frown - heads shake - energy shifted. The noise thins.
Heads turn. The crowd parts.
Tredwell and two REDCOATS escort a rouged-cheeked, powdered-
wig official.
Saoirse flinches. Donald tugs her arm gently.
She resists, her eyes fixed on Tredwell, the bouquet
trembling in her hand.
Peter stops juggling — glares — jaw clenched.
MRS. O’REGAN
(low, warning)
Leave it be, Peter.
PETER
They’ve no right, Ma.
She begins packing up the cart, her voice tired.
MRS. O’REGAN
No. And yet somehow they do. Help
me pack up, son. Let’s go home.
No answer. She turns — he’s gone.
Joey points. Peter pushes through bodies — fast.
MRS. O’REGAN (CONT’D)
Peter! No! Peter!
He slows near the platform — snatches up a rock. He pulls a
green ribbon from his pocket and holds it high.
PETER
Go to hell, ya English pricks! Take
his nibs and his throne with ya!
Nervous laughter from the nearby crowd.
PETER
For me Da, ye bastards!
He hurls the rock -
Laughter turns to shocked GASPS.
SMACK!
The official crumples, wig askew, blood spreading.
Tredwell leaps off the platform, pistol drawn.
TREDWELL
MOVE!
Screams. Chaos. People scatter in all directions.
Mrs. O’Regan hurls herself in Tredwell’s path.
MRS. O’REGAN
He’s just a boy! Please—!
TREDWELL
Out of my way!
He shoves her to the ground — eyes scanning for the boy.
Donald hurries Saoirse towards an alley. She turns her head
towards the chaos. Donald yanks her into the dark.
Too late. Tredwell spots them.
Recognition. Rage. His voice cuts through the crowd.
TREDWELL (CONT’D)
The alley! It’s O’Neil! Stop her!
Peter sprints into the alley after Saoirse and Donald.
BANG!
Tredwell FIRES blindly towards —
THE ALLEY
Peter stumbles — the ribbon drops — he collapses — hard.
His breath rattles — his leg twitches — his eyes widen — then
go dead.
Donald runs back to the boy.
Without looking at the wound, he slings Peter’s body over his
shoulder — runs to the end of the alley where Saoirse stands
— horrified.
SHOUTS GROW LOUDER! CLOSER!
Donald grabs her arm — they vanish around the corner.
Her yellow flowers remain crushed in the dirt of the alley.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
26 -
A Tense Encounter at the Davenport Bleaching House
EXT. DAVENPORT BLEACHING HOUSE – DAY
Saoirse carries a picnic basket down the street.
A SOLDIER exits a store and bumps into her.
SOLDIER
(tips his hat)
Pardon me, Miss.
She mumbles — head lowered — crosses the road.
A GOSHAWK SHILL CRY cuts the air.
It knifes between rooftops — pigeons scatter. A CROW CAWS
from a chimney — launches skyward.
Saoirse stiffens, every instinct screaming she’s prey.
A patrol of soldiers laugh nearby, oblivious.
One glances her way.
She quickens her step towards a red-bricked factory:
“Davenport Bleaching House.”
She slips —
INSIDE
Framed in the entrance, she adjusts her eyes — surveys her
surroundings.
Sunlight streams through dusty windows — catching floating
motes.
Linen flutters on lines. Vendors bustle — coins clink —
voices murmur.
A nearby side door offers an escape. A fire axe hangs nearby.
A worker’s sharp LAUGH startles her.
She adjusts her basket — steps forward — fingers brushing
across linen tables.
She catches sight of Donald on a raised platform, inspecting
merchant’s linens, writing in a ledger, handing each a slip
of paper.
Next to him, MR. THOMPSON (20s), impatiently exchanges paper
slips for coins.
Saoirse tucks a stray lock behind her ear — heads towards
Donald.
CHURCH BELLS PEAL.
Groans ripple through the factory.
DONALD
Lunchtime, gentlemen!
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
27 -
The Deceptive Partnership
INT. OFFICE – CONTINUOUS
Thompson kneels by the floor safe — wrestles with the dial.
MR. THOMPSON
Open, damn it!
Donald and Saoirse walk in.
DONALD
Ahem.
Mr. Thompson jumps — glances over his shoulder.
MR. THOMPSON
Oh! Pardon me, Miss Campbell — this
thing’s cursed, I swear.
SAOIRSE
No harm done.
(smiles)
Join us for lunch?
MR. THOMPSON
Sorry. I’m meeting Gertie at the
Whistle. I can’t thank you enough
for introducing us.
A loud CLUNK — the safe creaks open.
MR. THOMPSON
Aha!
He dumps coins into a cloth bag and slams the door.
MR. THOMPSON (CONT’D)
I’d best hurry. See ya after lunch!
SAOIRSE
Tell Gertie I said hello!
MR. THOMPSON
Will do!
He bolts out. Saoirse closes the door behind him.
The smile drops. She hands Donald the basket.
He kneels — dials — yanks the safe open and sweeps coins into
the basket.
FOOTSTEPS approach.
DONALD
Damn it to hell.
Saoirse cracks the door.
SAOIRSE
(calling sweetly)
Why, Mr. Graham! What a pleasant
surprise!
Donald throws the towel over the basket — slams the safe shut
— darts to his desk.
MR. GRAHAM (60s), elegant, cane in hand, appears in the
doorway.
MR. GRAHAM
Miss Campbell. Still the brightest
bloom on the vine.
SAOIRSE
(coyly)
Oh, yer far too kind, sir.
The safe door creaks open. Mr. Graham glances toward it.
MR. GRAHAM
Where’s Mr. Thompson?
DONALD
Lunch, sir.
MR. GRAHAM
Not with that vulgar pub girl!
SAOIRSE
(quickly)
Oh, no! He swore off her, sir. I
made sure of it.
(fake sincerity)
She and her kind really should know
their place. Papists. Trouble. All
of them. Pardon me for saying’ so.
MR. GRAHAM
Not at all, dear. I couldn’t agree
more. Insufferable, moronic lot.
He approaches the safe — looks inside — shuts and locks it.
MR. GRAHAM (CONT’D)
Tell Mr. Thompson I’d like a word.
He’s growing careless. Don’t know
what’s gotten into the boy.
DONALD
I’ll speak with him, sir.
Saoirse lifts the basket off the desk.
SAOIRSE
Join us for lunch?
MR. GRAHAM
Not today. I’d best be off. Good
day, Anne. Mr. Campbell.
He tips his hat — exits. Door clicks shut.
Donald lifts the towel. The coins glint atop a loaf of bread.
DONALD
What if he’d said yes?
She bursts into a grin.
SAOIRSE
Mr. Thompson said the old goat’s
riddled with gout and bleeding
ulcers. I knew he’d pass.
She places her hand on his arm, leans close.
SAOIRSE
(teasing)
Know thy enemy, Mr. Campbell.
DONALD
Oh, yer dangerous, Miss Campbell.
They share a quiet smile — part affection — part defiance.
A fire is lit — and growing.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
28 -
A Taste of Home
INT. DONALD’S KITCHEN – NIGHT
Smoke from a burnt loaf hovers. Saoirse sets the table.
The front door CREAKS open — SLAMS shut.
Donald enters — windblown — wildflowers in hand.
He kisses her cheek — offers the bouquet.
DONALD
Something smells delicious.
SAOIRSE
Mutton. Yer favorite.
She arranges the flowers in a jug — Donald warms his hands by
the hearth.
She ladles stew into a bowl — places it on the table.
SAOIRSE (CONT’D)
Eat while it’s hot.
She returns to the hearth — prepares tea.
SAOIRSE (CONT’D)
I might’ve singed the meat — just a
wee bit.
Donald sits — sniffs — bites — freezes — chews slowly —
grimaces — hurriedly douses the stew with salt.
She sets a cup beside him. He takes a sip, swallows hard.
SAOIRSE (CONT’D)
That bad?
DONALD
(choking slightly)
Memorable.
(looks up - teasing)
The English’ll flee quicker from
yer cooking than what we’ve got
planned for them.
Siobhan swats him with a cloth — smiles despite herself.
Their quiet warmth shines through their mutual grief of loss.
They laugh — a quiet rhythm fills the room.
Genres:
["Drama","Historical"]
Ratings
Scene
29 -
Curfew at the Tin Whistle
INT. TIN WHISTLE PUB – DAY
The pub teems with smoke — chatter — clinking of mugs.
The bell above the door clangs.
Saoirse appears — silhouetted in the door — basket in hand.
She squints — adjusting to the haze.
Gertie catches her eye — nods towards a shadowed door.
O’SULLIVAN
Hey Gertie! What’s a man gotta do
to get another drink?
GERTIE
Give me more than a slap on me arse
and pay yer damned tab, O’Sullivan!
Now finish that one! Curfew’s nigh.
She slaps a towel at him — rings a ship’s bell above the bar.
GERTIE (CONT’D)
Time, gentlemen, please! It’s time
ye were no longer here! Go on! Get
yerselves home before the redcoats.
Saoirse weaves through the thinning crowd — slips into the
back room.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
30 -
Secrets and Shadows
INT. BARRY’S OFFICE – CONTINUOUS
Wolfe Tone and Barry lean over a map on the desk.
Barry passes Tone a heavy black sachet — he slips it into his
coat.
Saoirse clears her throat.
BARRY
(startled, draws pistol)
Christ! Ever hear of knocking? Or
are ye determined to give me a
heart attack.
SAOIRSE
But — Gertie says ye can’t attack
what’s not there, Barry.
BARRY
Ah, my daughter’s too clever by
half. Just like her mother.
WOLFE TONE
Donald says your English studies
are going well?
SAOIRSE
Aye. Seamus is a patient tutor.
WOLFE TONE
He could do more for the cause.
SAOIRSE
He won’t lift a musket but helps
how he can — what with the baby on
the way.
She sets the basket down. Barry tips it over. Coins clatter.
WOLFE TONE
No suspicion?
SAOIRSE
None I can tell.
BARRY
Good. By the time they do notice,
it’ll be too late.
Barry gives Wolfe Tone a questioning look. A heavy beat —
then Tone looks Saoirse square in the eye.
WOLFE TONE
We need you for a mission tomorrow
night. It’s dangerous.
(beat)
You up for it?
She hesitates — then nods. Barry slides a folded slip of
paper across the desk.
BARRY
Midnight. This address. A man named
Hennessy will meet you. Just do
what he says. No questions.
WOLFE TONE
Many lives ride on this, Saoirse.
You tell no one — not even Donald.
Saoirse nods and hurries out of —
THE PUB
Moments later, the bell above the door clangs — Tredwell and
his soldiers storm in.
Villagers shuffle nervously, heads lowered, trying not to
meet their gaze as they move through the room scanning faces.
Tredwell lingers briefly on O’Sullivan — a flicker of
possible recognition — unnoticed.
TREDWELL
(angry)
She’s not here — he lied.
They storm outside — leaving a tense silence in their wake.
Villagers release a collective sigh of relief.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
31 -
A Stealthy Escape
INT. SAOIRSE’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
Moonlight filters softly through the lace curtains.
Saoirse slips from bed dressed — boots laced. She grabs her
shawl — eases her bedroom door open — silently tiptoes down —
THE HALLWAY
Donald’s door stands ajar. His snores confirm he’s asleep.
She peeks in — uncertainty crossing her face — trepidation.
She opens her mouth to call out to him — thinks better of it.
She exhales quietly — tiptoes down the creaking stairs. Each
groan of the wood stills her — she waits — listens.
She grips the latch on the front door.
It CREAKS.
She grimaces — waits — then slips —
OUTSIDE
The cobblestones glisten with rain.
An OWL HOOTS.
Saoirse gently pulls the door shut — it clicks.
She looks up and down the street through a heavy fog —
visibility limited to just a few meters.
She lifts her skirts — keeps low — melts into the shadows.
The glow of street lamps guide her towards Saint Andrew’s.
LAUGHTER erupts from inside the church.
CLANK! The doors swing open.
Four Redcoats stumble out — steaming mugs in hand.
She slips behind a tree — waits.
The MINISTER waves them off — shuts the door.
The Redcoats pass the tree — chatting — oblivious.
She doesn’t breathe until they’re gone — then slips away in
the opposite direction.
Genres:
["Historical Fiction","Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
32 -
A Night of Tension and Strategy
EXT. REBEL COTTAGE – NIGHT
Saoirse tiptoes through thick brush — hair and clothing
catching on branches.
She approaches a cabin — gently knocks.
A wooden square slides open.
SAOIRSE
Hennessy?
The peephole SLAMS shut — door flings open.
BANDY McGEE, a hulking brute of a man that looks like he
reeks of sweat and whiskey, yanks her inside.
He kicks the door shut with a muddy boot and jams a pistol
under her chin. His rheumy eyes drill into hers.
She raises a folded note — tries to steady her voice.
SAOIRSE
Hennessy? I was told ye —
BANG! BANG!
A pounding at the door cuts her off.
Bandy peeks through the spy hole — flings the door opened.
A burst of wind and rain enters.
Six scrawny teenage boys tumble inside, shivering —
breathless. Their eyes lock on Saoirse.
Bandy slams the door closed.
BANDY
Look what he sent us, Billy Boy!
BILLY BOY (16), yellow teeth and sunken cheeks, grins.
BILLY BOY
About time he gave us lads a bit o’
fun. How about a kiss, girlie?
He grabs for her waist. She draws a knife from her boot —
presses it to his throat.
The boys gasp. Billy Boy’s eyes go wide.
SAOIRSE
It’ll be the last thing ya do.
BILLY BOY
Jesus! I was just foolin’! I didn’t
mean nothin’ by it. Feck!
BANDY
We’re fighting the English, not
each other. Put the knife down
before Billy Boy here wets himself.
She shoves Billy Boy aside — sheathes the blade.
The door swings open bringing another burst of wind.
HENNESSY — heavyset — mid-50s — all suspicion, storms in.
His face shows exhaustion and frustration. He scowls at the
sight of Saoirse.
HENNESSY
(points at her)
What the hell is that?
Bandy hands him the note.
He reads it — grunts — then tosses it into the fire.
Unnerved, he sits on a stool — fills his pipe — lights it —
deeply inhales.
HENNESSY (CONT’D)
(Resigned)
Children and women? Christ. How’re
we supposed to beat the English
with just — God damn it!
He studies Saoirse. She studies him.
HENNESSY (CONT’D)
I told Barry I needed someone who
could read the English.
SAOIRSE
I can.
BILLY BOY
But the Frenchies were expectin’
O’Sullivan. Why ain’t he goin’?
BANDY
Too fond of the drink. Starts
flappin’ his gob. Barry said he
wouldn’t trust him with his farts.
HENNESSY
Too late to change anything now.
They’re waiting for us.
He throws a map on the table. All gather around.
HENNESSY (CONT’D)
(points)
At midnight, a French frigate will
drop anchor here.
Bandy’s men will row out from the
quay and meet the ship here, at the
mouth of the bay.
Billy’s boys will guide the boats
to shore and haul the cargo up to
the top of the bluff.
Lads there will load it into carts
and haul it to camp. Questions?
SAOIRSE
Where’s the camp?
HENNESSY
Don’t need to know.
SAOIRSE
The cargo?
HENNESSY
Muskets. Powder. Plans.
SAOIRSE
What d’ye need me for?
HENNESSY
Ye’ll translate the instructions
and teach Billy’s boys how to
assemble and fire them.
He eyes her up and down — deep in thought.
HENNESSY
Lift yer skirts.
Thrown off guard, she draws her knife from her boot — backs
towards the door.
HENNESSY (CONT’D)
(snorts)
Don’t flatter yerself, girlie.
He tosses her a bundled blanket.
HENNESSY (CONT’D)
Stuff that up under yer dress. The
English won’t suspect a woman.
Especially one carryin’ a child.
(Fills his pipe)
Well? Get going! And hurry — the
boys will be waiting.
The rebels head to the door and open it.
A strong cold wind bursts into the room.
Hennessy shivers — bolts the door and sits at the table.
Jaw clenched, eyes worried — he lights his pipe and stares at
the flickering flame of the fire.
Genres:
["Historical Fiction","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
33 -
The Clandestine Descent
EXT. OCEAN – NIGHT
A FRENCH FRIGATE cuts through the Atlantic under a black sky.
A SAILOR grips the railing - sways with the swells.
SAILOR
(in French, subtitled)
It’ll worsen as we near the cove,
Captain.
The Officer lifts a spyglass — scans the fog-cloaked
coastline.
EXT. THE BLUFF – NIGHT
Saoirse, belly padded under her shawl, trudges along the
bluff with Billy Boy and his group.
CART-BOYS peer out from the brush.
CORY (16), the largest, warily steps forward.
CORY
Yer an hour late, Billy. Where’s
O’Sullivan?
BILLY BOY
Not coming, Cory. She’s takin’ his
place.
Saoirse scans the young faces, alarmed. Cory is the oldest —
the youngest no more than 10.
SAOIRSE
Billy, take your lads to the beach.
When the curraghs land, bring the
cargo and the French officer to me.
(to Cory)
Yer boys will haul it to camp.
Quickly. Understand?
CORY
Aye, Miss.
SAOIRSE
(hands Billy the lantern)
Guide them in. Stay off the rocks.
BILLY BOY
Ye heard her! Move yer arses!
SAOIRSE
Be careful, Billy. It’s a steep,
slippery descent.
The boys descend the cliffside toward the dark beach.
Genres:
["Historical Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
34 -
A Warning in the Shadows
INT. REBEL COTTAGE – NIGHT
Rain pelts the roof.
Hennessy shuffles papers at a desk.
Outside, a DOG GROWLS.
He grabs his pistol — looks through the peephole.
HENNESSY
Who are ya and what d’ya want?
WOMAN’S VOICE (O.C.)
A message for Hennessy.
He opens the door and peers —
OUTSIDE
Mrs. O’Regan steps from the shadows.
MRS. O’REGAN
I live by the Hill Street barracks.
HENNESSY
So?
MRS. O’REGAN
I watched O’Sullivan go in with
papers — and bolt out with a fat
purse in hand.
HENNESSY
What’s that gotta do with me?
MRS. O’REGAN
I didn’t walk all this way in the
middle of the night to play games,
Hennessy.
The barracks woke up — and a few
minutes later, a dozen redcoats
rode out like they were chased by
the devil.
Thought ye should know to keep yer
men safe at home tonight.
HENNESSY
(broken)
Too late.
She shakes her head — walks back into the woods.
Hennessy slams the door — pounds it with his fist.
HENNESSY (CONT’D)
God damn ya, O’Sullivan. God damn
yer filthy black soul to hell.
He stares in despair at the flickering flames of the fire.
Genres:
["Drama","Historical","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
35 -
Ambush at Dawn
EXT. ROCKY BEACH – NIGHT
Fog blankets the rocky beach.
Redcoats crouch behind boulders.
Billy Boy navigates slippery rocks — reaches the water —
swings the lantern.
A wire lashes around his throat.
He chokes — his tongue bulges — he goes limp.
His lads reach the rocks.
Unable to see through the heavy fog, they call for him over
the deafening crashing of waves against the rocks.
LAD ONE
Billy? Where are ya?
Figures rise from the mist — garrote wires gleam.
The boys drop before a scream escapes their lips.
Soldiers strip off the boys’ coats and hats.
One drags Billy’s body behind a boulder while another dons
his coat and cap.
The disguised soldier swings the lantern toward the opening
of —
THE BAY
Bandy’s curraghs bounce across choppy waters.
The French frigate slows. The signal waves.
The curraghs pull up alongside the ship.
Sailors secure the boats to the hull — lower crates into the
rebels’ hands.
Bandy helps the French Officer into his curragh.
They row back to —
THE SHORE
The lantern’s light dims in the fog — then disappears.
First out of the boats, the French officer and Bandy wade
through the water to the rocks — confused — wary.
FRENCH OFFICER
O’Sullivan? Where are you?
The disguised Redcoat emerges — raises the lantern — grins.
FRENCH OFFICER
Where are your men?
SOLDIER
Waitin’ for you, mon capitaine.
The soldier drops to the rocks — covers his head.
MUSKET FIRE erupts.
Teens in the curraghs cry for their mothers before teir
bodies fall into the surf — amid smoke and blood.
The chaos on the beach floats up to —
THE BLUFF
Saoirse bolts to the bluff’s edge — struggles to see through
the heavy fog.
Gunfire and death silences the cries.
Tredwell emerges from behind a boulder. Saoirse grips her
knife — starts down the slope.
CORY
(grabs her)
No, Miss! Ye’ll only give us away!
She turns — raises her knife. Terrified, Cory covers his face
— whimpers.
She lowers the blade — shocked — ashamed at what she almost
did. She looks back down to —
THE BEACH
Tredwell kicks Bandy’s body aside — barks orders.
TREDWELL
Unload the boats. Pile the bodies
behind the boulders and haul the
cargo ashore.
(points)
You two stand watch until morning
light, to identify the bodies.
His men move into position — follow his orders.
Tredwell mounts a horse — gallops down the shoreline. His
troops follow and vanish with him into the fog.
The sentries drag the remaining bodies onto the rocks.
Saoirse scrambles back up to —
THE BLUFF
She gathers the frightened, crying boys.
SAOIRSE
We can’t let them identify them.
The trembling boys, nod.
Saoirse grabs ropes from the carts and she and Cory descend
the cliff to —
THE BEACH
They creep over slippery rocks toward the unaware sentries —
throw ropes around the men’s necks — and pull tight.
They’re no match for the stronger, trained soldiers.
One grabs Saoirse — slams her onto the rocks. She gasps —
winded — springs back up — feral — determined.
She charges — slashes her knife at the soldier. He dodges the
blows — wrenches the blade from her.
He thrusts it into her stomach — sneering — until she doesn’t
fall.
She knees his groin. He collapses.
She rips the blade free from her stomach padding — drives it
into his back.
He chokes, bleeding.
She looms over him — knife poised.
Tears pool in his eyes. His shocked, pleading eyes meet hers.
She hesitates — he’s just a boy!
Her face twists with grief.
FLASHBACK:
Cara giggles as Granddad yelps from a hot potato. Her mother
chuckles — pushes him off his stool. Cara grins — giddy.
END FLASHBACK
She HOWLS her pain — then slams the knife into his chest.
Disbelief — shock — he gurgles — goes limp.
She spins.
A soldier has Cory pinned — strangling him.
A cart-boy jumps onto the soldier’s back — claws at his eyes.
The soldier roars in fury — flings the child aside.
Cory struggles to breathe.
The soldier rolls off Cory — warps his hands around the cart
boy’s neck.
Saoirse snatches a rock — races over — smashes it into the
soldier’s skull — again — again.
He crumples — dead.
The sobbing cart-boy and Cory both hold their necks —
coughing — struggling to breathe.
The remaining boys make it down to the beach.
Saoirse staggers among the dead.
She turns Bandy over — flinches at his opened, unseeing eyes
and protruding tongue.
Horrified — she turns over more bodies. The French Officer
misses half his face.
She drops and vomits onto the rocks. The boys watch —
terrified.
She notices them — rises and steels herself — yells to be
heard over the wind.
SAOIRSE
Load the dead into the curraghs and
get them home to their mothers!
CART BOY
But the water’s fierce!
SAOIRSE
So is life, boy. Do it.
(to larger boys)
Bring the crates to the bluff and
help the smaller boys get the carts
to camp.
She kneels beside a sobbing child.
SAOIRSE (CONT’D)
Run to camp — tell them what
happened — then go home, son.
He nods, tears streaming.
She kisses the top of his head and motion “go”.
He turns — runs up the bluff. She watches him go — small,
fragile — but alive.
The sun crests the horizon — the fog lifts.
A GOSHAWK circles above the carnage.
Saoirse, bruised and bloody — looks up at the it.
It SHRIEKS.
Genres:
["Drama","Action","Historical"]
Ratings
Scene
36 -
Awakening in Despair
EXT. BELFAST STREET – DAY
Daylight breaks through.
A ROOSTER CROWS. DOGS BARK.
Saoirse limps down the street — head uncovered.
The sun spills gold across Saint Andrew’s steeple cross.
She glares at it — yanks her shawl tighter.
She reaches Donald’s — struggles up the steps.
INT. DONALD’S BEDROOM – CONTINUOUS
Saoirse crawls into bed beside Donald — wet — filthy.
He stirs — smiles.
Morning sunlight spills into the room — revealing the mud and
blood.
DONALD
Saoirse!
He jolts up — rushes around the bed.
DONALD (CONT’D)
My God — what happened?! Are ye
hurt? Where? How —
SAOIRSE
(whispers)
I couldn’t save them, Donald.
DONALD
What?
SAOIRSE
(quiet, raw)
They were just children. Babies.
And they killed them. Just like
they killed Cara.
(beat)
Soon there’ll be no children left
to fight — or bury.
DONALD
God Almighty!
SAOIRSE
God? There is no god for us,
Donald. It was all just a lie to
make us behave. Ye were right. No
more prayers.
She shuts her eyes — transformation complete.
Genres:
["Drama","Historical"]
Ratings
Scene
37 -
Stormy Revelations
INT. LINEN HOUSE OFFICE – DAY
Rain taps against the windowpanes. The wind whistles through
the frame.
Donald transcribes figures into a ledger — rubs his hands for
warmth.
The door CREAKS. MR. GRAHAM enters, weary.
MR. GRAHAM
Where’s Mr. Thompson?
DONALD
Left early, sir. Terrible cold.
MR. GRAHAM
Bloody weather. Half the staff’s
ill. No wonder we struggle to
profit.
DONALD
Can I help, sir?
MR. GRAHAM
A letter from London. I’m to
retire. They’re sending their own
man.
DONALD
I don’t understand…
MR. GRAHAM
They say I’m too old. Other
branches outperform us. They want
answers.
DONALD
I’m sorry, sir.
MR. GRAHAM
They arrive tomorrow.
(stiffens)
Drop off the last five years’
ledgers before you leave.
DONALD
Tomorrow morning all right?
MR. GRAHAM
(frowns — a beat)
Why not tonight?
DONALD
Some are at home. I’ll finish them
first.
Mr. Graham stares hard at him — sighs.
MR. GRAHAM
Tomorrow, then. Goodnight, Mr.
Campbell.
DONALD
Goodnight, sir.
Mr. Graham exits.
Donald exhales — wipes sweat from his brow —crosses to the
window.
Rain slams the cobblestones. Soldiers storm shops — examine
pedestrians.
CRIES — SCREAMS!
Redcoats drag two bloodied men and a woman from a warehouse
across the street.
Tredwell steps out — scans the buildings.
He looks up — spots Donald at the window.
Donald yanks the curtain shut — grabs the ledgers — and
empties the safe.
Genres:
["Drama","Historical","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
38 -
Haunted Reflections
INT. DONALD’S KITCHEN – NIGHT
Siobhan, visibly pregnant, quietly washes dishes.
Saoirse enters, barefoot and pale. Cara’s doll peeks from her
nightdress pocket.
She pauses, dazed — confused.
Siobhan gasps at her bruised face.
SIOBHAN
My God! Are ye all right?
SAOIRSE
Aye —what’re ye doin’ here? I need
to make Donald’s breakfast.
SIOBHAN
Breakfast? It’s nighttime.
SAOIRSE
What?
SIOBHAN
Ye’ve been asleep two days. Donald
fetched me yesterday. Said yer ill.
I came right away. What happened?
Saoirse sits, hollow-eyed — voice a mere whisper.
SAOIRSE
D’ye ever think of them, Siobhan?
D’ya ever feel like they’re crying
out for justice — every day — every
night? Walking beside ya.
Siobhan — confused. She doesn’t!
SIOBHAN
They’re gone. Let them rest in
peace, Saoirse. Yer still alive.
Saoirse limps to the window — looks out.
SAOIRSE
For now. Lady Ellen’s fiancé is
here.
SIOBHAN
Are ye sure?
SAOIRSE
Saw him with my own eyes.
SIOBHAN
(jumps up, frantic)
Stay inside! It’s the only place
ye’ll be safe!
Saoirse swings around, stunned.
SAOIRSE
Safe? Ye think any of us are safe
while they rule over us?
SIOBHAN
Ye are! Just stay inside — out of
sight. Yer passing, Saoirse! They
accept ya!
SAOIRSE
I don’t accept me!
(beat)
Och. Ye don’t understand.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
39 -
Confrontation in the Shadows
INT. TIN WHISTLE PUB – NIGHT
The place is wrecked. Empty. Silent.
Donald enters — scans the room — confusion and worry etched
on his face.
He grabs a pistol tucked in his waistcoat — heads to —
BARRY’S OFFICE
The door BURSTS open. Barry spins around, pistol drawn, then
lowers it in recognition.
BARRY
Christ! Yer as bad as she is!
DONALD
(growling)
How could ya do it! Why the hell
didn’t ye tell me?!
Barry opens the safe — pulls out papers, maps and coins.
BARRY
Ye’d have stopped her. She knew we
had no choice.
(beat)
How is she?
Donald slams his fist on the desk — coins jump, papers
scatter on the floor.
DONALD
How the hell d’ye think she is?
She’s lucky to be alive!
BARRY
The mission was that important,
Donald. Ye must know that. We would
not have done so otherwise.
Donald paces, fists clenched, fighting his anger.
Barry scoops coins and papers from the floor — shoves them
into his carpetbag.
Donald grabs his arm.
DONALD
London auditors arrive tomorrow.
I’m about to be found out.
BARRY
We all are — since that traitorous
bastard, O’Sullivan sold us out.
DONALD
O’Sullivan?! Where is he?
BARRY
Beaten to a pulp — tarred and
rotting six feet under — where he
belongs. May he burn in hell.
DONALD
Wolfe?
BARRY
France.
DONALD
When does he return?
BARRY
Who the hell knows now? We’re on
our own now.
Barry slams the safe shut — grabs his carpetbag.
BARRY
I need to find Gert before they do.
He races out.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
40 -
Urgent Departure
INT. DONALD’S KITCHEN – NIGHT
A light rain drifts across the window, silent — soft. Saoirse
stirs a pot hanging over the fire.
The front door opens and SLAMS shut. She whirls around —
knife firmly in hand.
Donald bursts in — flushed and out of breath.
DONALD
Yer up! Good. Are ye alright?
SAOIRSE
I’m fine.
DONALD
Where’s yer sister?
SAOIRSE
Gone. Supper will be ready in a
minute.
DONALD
Forget supper. We have to leave.
He dumps ledgers and coin onto the table — tosses ledgers
proving his theft into the fire.
SAOIRSE
What about —
DONALD
No time. Dress warm. We have to
leave — now. Hurry.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
41 -
Night of Urgency
EXT. DONALD’S HOME – NIGHT
Donald emerges with a heavy basket.
He looks up and down the street. His brow furls at the sight
of soldiers emerging from the court — ready for night patrol.
DONALD
(yells into the house)
Hurry up!
Casey races down the street towards his home — smiles, nods
in greeting and jumps up his steps.
He rips off parchment nailed to his door.
CASEY
(incredulous)
The Peep O’Day Boys threaten to
burn us alive if we don’t leave
Ulster tonight!
Saoirse hurries out just in time to hear.
Casey crumbles the note and throws it into the street.
CASEY (CONT’D)
(screams)
Ye’ll take my home over my dead
body, ya orange bastards!
SAOIRSE
Yer Catholic?
Before he can answer, Donald grabs her arm — pulls her down
the steps.
The BELLS of St. Andrew’s announce curfew.
They hurry into the alley.
Genres:
["Drama","Historical","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
42 -
Escape from the Tin Whistle
EXT. THE TIN WHISTLE PUB - NIGHT
Donald and Saoirse step out of the alley beside the pub.
Sounds of the place being torn apart fill the air.
The door flings open. Six soldiers emerge, muskets
shouldered.
Donald pulls Saoirse down behind a large bush.
Tredwell, face filled with fury, storms out of the pub.
Saoirse grabs her knife — pulls away from Donald — ready to
attack.
He reins her back in — clamps his hand over her mouth to
stifle her cries — wrestles her back into —
THE ALLEY
She yanks his hand from her mouth.
SAOIRSE
(frantic)
Cara’s doll! I have to go back!
DONALD
No time!
SAOIRSE
I can’t leave her!
She shoves away from him — he pulls her back — she thrashes.
SAOIRSE (CONT’D)
Leave me alone!
He clamps a hand over her mouth again and carries her,
struggling, further down the alley.
Genres:
["Drama","Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
43 -
Tensions in the Night
INT. SIOBHAN’S FLAT – NIGHT
Seamus opens the door.
Donald pushes past him with Saoirse — struggling and still
slung over his shoulder.
DONALD
We’re in trouble. We need shelter
until curfew ends. I’m takin’ her
to Scotland.
SEAMUS
What the hell is going on?
DONALD
It’s safer if ye don’t know.
Seamus squares off with Donald.
SEAMUS
The hell it is!
Donald puts Saoirse down.
DONALD
Tone’s fled to France. Won’t be
long before they come for us.
SEAMUS
What the hell does he have to —
(to Saoirse)
Goddammit! I warned ya not to get
involved! Have ye learned nothing?
SAOIRSE
I’ve learned a life’s worth,
Seamus.
(MORE)
SAOIRSE (CONT'D)
Ye taught me English — the English
taught me hate — Wolfe Tone taught
me to fight.
SEAMUS
Ya can’t fight anyone if yer
swingin’ from the gallows! Donald!
Talk sense into her.
DONALD
One day yer peace will cost us all.
SEAMUS
Or save us! Mother of God, Donald!
They’re cruel — not stupid! They
can’t leave us a festering wound,
this close to their shores!
DONALD
A wound they created and fed.
Seamus angrily grabs Donald by the collar and screams.
SEAMUS
That no longer matters! They’re
here and they’re here to stay!
(Regains composure)
Siobhan, tell me ye didn’t know.
SIOBHAN
I suspected.
SEAMUS
And said nothin’?
SIOBHAN
She’s all I have left.
SEAMUS
(voice cracks)
Ye have me, Siobhan. Have ye
forgotten?
DONALD
We’ve no time to argue. What’s done
is done. Let’s get what sleep we
can. We move at daybreak.
INT. SIOBHAN’S TENEMENT – NIGHT
Siobhan and Seamus sleep spooned together on the floor,
wrapped in layers.
Donald sleeps beside a wide-awake Saoirse. She slowly rises —
moves to the door.
CREAK.
She looks over at Donald - pauses — hand trembling on the
frame.
She takes a long, quiet breath — steels herself — and
silently slips out.
Genres:
["Drama","Historical","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
44 -
Night of Flames
EXT. DUBLIN STREETS – NIGHT
Saoirse races past the dockyards, over the park, and into —
THE ALLEY
— beside the smoldering ruins of the Tin Whistle Pub.
A door CREAKS open. An OLD WOMAN steps out — bucket in hand.
Saoirse presses flat against the tenement wall, her heart
pounding in her throat.
The woman tosses the bucket of slop.
It splatters across stones and onto Saoirse’s shoes.
Rats instantly swarm.
She GASPS — bites her palm to stifle the sound.
The woman glances up and down the alley.
Seeing nothing, she retreats and SLAMS her door shut.
Saoirse kicks rats away.
Soldiers trudge past the alley mouth.
She waits — then pushes through the night haze to —
SAINT ANDREW’S CHURCH
She races down the street.
Behind her — YELLS — LIT TORCHES — the Peep O’Day Boys!
She ducks behind the steps. The gang storms past, wild and
furious, hooting and bellowing.
They turn the corner onto Donald’s street.
Saoirse follows behind, silent and swift.
The thugs halt in front of —
CASEY’S HOME
Their leader steps forward with a heavy rock.
LEADER
Joseph Casey! Ye’ve been given fair
warnin’!
He hurls the rock through a window — flings his torch through
the opening.
Shattering glass, then roaring flames.
The CASEY FAMILY bursts out, wielding truncheons and clubs.
JOSEPH CASEY
You’ll have to kill me first,
Orange bastards!
(to his family)
Stand fast!
MARY CASEY
We’ll not let ya burn us from our
own door!
YOUNGER SON
Cowards!
Chaos explodes! The street erupts into brutal hand-to-hand
combat as she stumbles up Donald’s steps and slips inside.
A TORCH sails through the air and lands on the roof.
Flames crackle and climb, quickly devouring everything.
Genres:
["Historical Fiction","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
45 -
Inferno of Despair
INT. SIOBHAN’S TENEMENT – NIGHT
Donald bolts upright — looks for Saoirse — races —
OUTSIDE
He sprints across the park.
A FIRE WAGON thunders past, horse hooves striking sparks.
He scrambles after it.
It veers hard around a corner.
Smoke curls into the sky as they near —
DONALD’S HOUSE
A panicked crowd stares in horror at a second floor.
Saoirse teeters on the windowsill, cloaked in black smoke.
Flames crawling behind her lick her back.
She clutches Cara’s doll and SHRIEKS — in pain - and terror.
Firemen stretch a BLANKET beneath the window.
MARY CASEY (O.S.)
Jump, Anne! Jump!
She’s too frozen in fear.
Donald breaks through the crowd, yelling.
DONALD
Saoirse!!
He races to the door. A FIREMAN grabs him.
FIREMAN
You can’t go in there!
DONALD
The hell I can’t!
He punches the fireman’s face and charges —
INSIDE
Thick smoke devours the stairwell. Fire claws the bannister.
Coughing violently, he barrels up the burning steps, down the
hall and into —
SAOIRSE’S BEDROOM
She balances on the edge of the window sill, coughing.
DONALD
Get down!
SAOIRSE
I’m so sorry, Donald! I couldn’t
leave her!
He races to her, throws his coat over her head, shields her
from the flames and looks —
OUTSIDE
Men pile atop each other, forming a human ladder.
CASEY (O.S.)
Pass her down to me, Donald!
He hoists Saoirse into his arms — lowers her into Casey’s —
watches, worried, as they lower her to the ground.
Safe on the ground, she looks up at Donald, framed in the
fiery window. She breaks down and SOBS — crying his name.
Donald’s head and leg dangles outside the frame.
CASEY (CONT’D)
Take my hand, Donald!
Donald reaches for it. Casey grips it.
CRACK!
The roof caves in — pulling Donald back into the inferno.
SAOIRSE
DONALD!! NO!!
She sprints for the door. Mary grabs her. She breaks free.
A FIREMAN intercepts her.
FIREMAN
There’s nothin’ ye can do! He’s
gone!
SAOIRSE
NOOO!! DONALD!!
She COLLAPSES to her knees. Mary drops beside her. Holds her
tight.
The blanket falls to the ground — soot-covered men descend
the human ladder in silence — faces hollow in defeat.
One shakes his head. Another looks away, fighting tears.
The crowd watch in silence. Helpless.
The second floor IMPLODES.
The crowd recoils as embers fly into the sky.
Saoirse trembles in Mary’s arms, burying her head.
She clutches Cara’s doll to her chest — beside herself in
agony — overcome with grief.
Her face, carved with remorse and devastation, carries too
much guilt for one person to handle.
Genres:
["Drama","Action","Historical"]
Ratings
Scene
46 -
Descent into Chaos
EXT. ENTRANCE TO ARMAGH – DAY
A ragged exodus of women, children, and men stumble along the
dirt road — blistered feet — faces etched in grief — sacks
over their shoulders — traumatized.
The sky bleeds orange as the sun sinks. A warning glow.
Saoirse limps along the pocked road, her face raw, her eyes
swollen and raw.
Donald’s burned coat covers her tiny frame. Cara’s charred
doll dangles from a torn pocket — its eyes melted.
They reach a parchment nailed to a tree.
The ink is smudged but the message is as clear as it is
brutal.
SUPER: You are entering Armagh — Orange Lodge Territory.
Catholics must report to authorities. Curfew in effect.
Trespassers shall be shot.
Saoirse steps closer — voice cracke.
SAOIRSE
(reads aloud)
This is Armagh — an Orange Lodge.
Curfew’s near. Anyone caught
outside will be shot.
A horrible silence falls, then —
VOICES IN CROWD (O.S.)
“Where do we go from here?”
“God help us…”
“We’ve no homes left!”
“Are we the next to burn?”
Children weep quietly. Mothers hush them with dry lips.
Saoirse scans the horizon. The sun hovers like a final
judgment.
SAOIRSE
(low, commanding)
Heads down. Eyes forward.
We walk. We don’t run. Don’t give
them a reason.
She starts forward. They follow — a ghost procession.
A YOUNG MAN lifts a LITTLE GIRL onto his hip. She hides her
face in his chest and whimpers.
LITTLE GIRL
I’m hungry, Da -
He gives her his last piece of bread. Her tiny fingers fumble
with it.
They pass the gates into —
THE TOWN OF ARMAGH
The market is closing.
The exhausted exiles walk in silent formation, battered — but
unbroken.
Town’s folks and Redcoats leer at them — their expressions
clear — papists not welcomed.
A few townsfolk mutter. Some laugh.
A VENDOR hurls a rotten apple at the group.
VENDOR
Papist filth!
A cocky TEENAGE EXILE glares at the vendor. Defiant, he grabs
a green ribbon and affixes it to his cap.
WOMAN EXILE
(shrieks)
Damn fool! They’ll kill us all!
A stone WHIZZES — strikes her in the head. She drops without
another sound.
SCREAMS. SHOUTS.
A Redcoat lifts his musket.
BOOM!
The young father crumples — dragging the little girl down
into the dirt with him. Blood blossoms across his chest.
The girl screams and furiously shakes his body.
LITTLE GIRL
Da! Daaa!
Saoirse runs over, snatches the child and carries her beneath
an overturned vegetable cart.
The teen that drew the ribbon falls into the cart.
His open eyes — unseeing. The ribbon in his cap, blown apart
and soaked in his blood.
Saoirse clutches the screaming girl closer.
Another BLAST hits inches beside them, and splinters the
cart. Smoke chokes the air — burns their eyes.
SAOIRSE
Hold on! Don’t let go!
She covers the girl’s eyes, lifts her into her arms — bursts
forth from their cover.
CRIES and SCREAMS of the doomed rise behind them.
Saoirse bolts into a dark, narrow alley — disappearing with
the little girl into the shadows.
Genres:
["Drama","Historical","War"]
Ratings
Scene
47 -
Desperate Escape at the Harbor
EXT. HARBOR – NIGHT
Fog creeps in like smoke over the dark water. Torches flicker
along the pier. A FOGHORN BLARES. A light rain falls.
Lanterns swing gently on the dock, casting long, trembling
reflections across the black water.
Wooden pilings creak beneath the throng of workers and
passengers preparing to board ships.
Saoirse enters the harbor carrying the sleeping child. Her
shawl conceals her bruises and desperation. The sleeping
child’s bloodied fingers clutch the collar of Donald’s coat.
SHOUTS erupt.
A wave of Redcoats floods the harbor — panic erupts.
The soldiers shove through the mob, tearing people apart with
musket butts and open palms — examining faces.
Wagons are overturned. Lovers are separated. Some are dragged
off, others vanish between barrels.
Saoirse ducks low, weaving through the chaos.
The child stirs. Saoirse clutches her tighter.
Her hip bumps a fishmonger’s cart — it tips.
SPLAT!
They tumble together into a mess of fish guts and blood.
Saoirse scrambles to get up, slick with slime. Her shawl
falls loose — she yanks it up to hide her hair.
The child claws blindly at Saoirse’s coat — desperately
trying to climb out of the sludge.
A pair of polished black boots stop inches from Saoirse’s
face.
She keeps her head lowered — raises her eyes — slowly.
TREDWELL!
She lifts a trembling hand — wipes fish slime from his boots.
TREDWELL
Watch where you’re going, you
stupid —
WHUMP!
He kicks her hard in the ribs. She folds inward, choking on
pain.
The girl cries out — crawls away on her knees through the
slime — finds cover behind a barrel.
Saoirse swallows her breath — disguises her voice.
SAOIRSE
Forgive me, milord! Me hens be
runned fair off — an’ me and me
little one was just tryin’ to catch
’em.
(beat)
So — is yerself all right, milord?
An OFFICIAL passes behind without breaking stride.
OFFICIAL
It’s just boots, Captain. Let’s
get on with it, shall we?
The Official’s escort snicker.
Tredwell scowls — delivers a final kick, sharp and bitter,
then storms off.
Saoirse remains low.
Once the boots fade, she crawls over to the girl — pulls her
out from behind the barrel and lifts her back into her arms.
They disappear into the panicked, angry crowd when —
TREDWELL (O.S.)
O’Neil?! That’s her! Stop that
woman!
BOOM! BOOM!
Musket fire. A nearby child screams and drops, hit.
That does it. The wick is lit. The crowd erupts — fury
overtakes fear.
CROWD (OVERLAPPING)
“Strike us down! Ten more will
rise!”
“Have ye no shame?!”
“Baby killers!”
“Ye’ll pay for this!”
Redcoats shove forward — firing.
BOOM! BOOM!
A teenage girl collapses, blood soaking her dress.
A nearby ship’s BELL CLANGS. A sign above the ship: NEW YORK.
Saoirse pushes through the panicked crush.
TICKET TAKER
Move it along! Hurry it up!
CRIES OF THE WOUNDED. SHOUTS.
HORSES REAR. MUSKETS THUNDER.
A hand yanks Saoirse’s shawl from behind.
She spins — Tredwell slams a pistol under her chin, his face
contorted with hate — and triumph.
She drops the child and screams.
SAOIRSE
Get on the ship!
Tredwell sneers - turns his pistol toward the fleeing girl.
Saoirse grabs the barrel.
They struggle — gasping, slipping, locked in raw hatred.
Tredwell chokes — blood spills from his mouth.
He staggers back.
Saoirse, breathing heavy, holds her bloody knife in the air,
prepared for another strike.
Tredwell drops to his knees, bleeding from the gut.
She hesitates - then turns and runs after the child.
Soldiers rush to Tredwell.
TREDWELL
(gasping)
Leave me! Get. That. Woman!
They give chase, shoving civilians, dodging barrels and
swinging fists.
Tredwell limps after them.
The ship’s BELL CLANGS again — louder now. Urgent.
Sailors shout orders — haul ropes — throw cargo.
They frantically raise the boarding plank — plunging dozens
of passengers into the black water.
The ship pulls away from the dock.
SAOIRSE
No! Wait!
She reaches the child — scoops her onto her hip and sprints
to the water’s edge.
SAOIRSE
Don’t let go!
The girl SCREAMS!
Saoirse leaps across the black water and —
THWACK! They slam against —
THE SHIP’S HULL
Saoirse clings to the dangling cargo net. The child clings to
her.
BAM!
Muskets fire from the dock.
The child slips — crying out in panic.
Saoirse grabs her coat just in time — hauls her back up.
SAOIRSE
Take hold of the ropes! Climb!
The girl scrambles upward.
Above, a man reaches down from the railing, legs braced by a
woman behind him.
Saoirse shoves the child up into his arms — he pulls her
aboard.
The sobbing girl looks over the railing.
Saoirse dangles, bloodied — slipping.
She reaches inside her coat — pulls out Cara’s scorched doll.
SAOIRSE
Her doll! She can’t sleep without
it!
She throws it. The man catches it and shoves it into the
child’s hands.
The traumatized child hugs it to her chest and sobs.
Saoirse looks up — and for a moment — sees Cara in the girl’s
face.
Her eyes flood with tears.
SAOIRSE
(whispers)
Mammy’s sorry — goodbye, pigeon.
BOOM! BOOM!
Musket balls rip through the net.
Saoirse slips lower.
PASSENGER (O.S.)
Take my hand! Ye can do it! Just a
few more —
BOOM! BOOM!
The final rope snaps.
Saoirse cries out — falls backward — vanishes beneath the
waves.
Genres:
["Drama","Action","Historical"]
Ratings
Scene
48 -
Revenge at the Docks
EXT. DOCK – CONTINUOUS
The din of battle is deafening.
Musket smoke and screams swirl across the harbor.
Children cry out for mothers. Mothers cry out for children.
Tredwell, coat torn and bloodied — smoking pistol raised —
staggers across the dock’s slick planks to the water’s edge.
He looks at the retreating ship as fog threatens to swallow
it.
Satisfaction creeps across his face.
Saoirse’s shawl drifts by in the current — he smirks.
He kneels, puts his pistol down and tends to his wound —
oblivious to the danger below.
The wooden pilings are covered with moss — battered by water
swells.
A hand bursts from the water — grips a piling.
Saoirse’s head emerges, gasping, hair plastered to her face.
Blood from her shoulder mixes with brackish tidewater.
She peeks up through the dock slats.
Tredwell - on his knees - back turned - pistol beside him.
She hesitates, then — makes her move — the din of the ear-
shattering battle muffling her movements.
She slips out of the water — silently climbs onto the dock
behind Tredwell.
She tightly grips her bloody knife — breathing shallow — eyes
fixed — determined.
She kicks his pistol into the water.
CLATTER – SPLASH!
Tredwell turns — startled.
She lunges - knife raised.
They grapple for it.
He grabs her wrist — twists hard.
The knife drops and skitters across the dock.
They both scramble towards it.
Saoirse reaches it first. She rolls onto her back and blindly
slashes.
The blade slices through the air, striking true — splattering
his blood across her face.
He grabs his neck — hisses.
TREDWELL
You — whore!
SAOIRSE
(spits)
Rot in hell.
He gurgles blood — it oozes through his fingers. His eyes
show he knows his end is near.
SAOIRSE
Why do ye hate your own?
TREDWELL
Hate’s a luxury. I deal in
survival.
He wheezes, blood in his mouth.
He locks eyes with her — for once, no arrogance, just raw
truth.
His face hardens — but his eyes betray the truth.
TREDWELL
I prefer to wear their boots than
lick them.
His eyes cloud over — he collapses on top of her.
She grunts, pushes his corpse off, yanks the second pistol
from his waistcoat and —
SPLASH!
She shoves his body over the side — watching emotionless as
the pitiful creature sinks.
Justice is done — intimate, brutal, irrevocable.
A Goshawk SCREECHES.
She looks at the bird circling above — then staggers through
the chaos on the docks — collapsing against a brick wall.
She tears her skirt with her teeth, binds her shoulder and
scans the horizon.
The ship, visible as a black silhouette, crests the fog line.
Her eyes well. She nods, satisfied.
The doll. The girl. Safe.
She exhales — her face softens — then hardens again.
She rises — face steeled — pistol raised.
Smoke swallows her as she returns back into the fight.
EXT. HARBOR – DAY
Sunlight bleeds across the carnage.
SAOIRSE (VO)
Some of us managed to survive the
massacre that day, burdened with
the knowledge that — we had to
finish what they started.
Soldiers turn over bodies of women, children, rebels, and
impossibly young soldiers.
EXT. BEACH – DAY
The sun crowns the horizon. Seagulls cry. Waves crash.
Four small curraghs slice through the surf and crunch onto
the rocky beach.
Saoirse steps out from the lead boat, followed by her gang of
ragged youths.
They haul wooden crates onto the rocks and pry them open,
revealing muskets and powder.
Saoirse kneels and teaches the boys — load, aim, and fire.
Genres:
["Historical Fiction","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
49 -
The Storming of Castlebar Barracks
EXT. CASTLEBAR BARRACKS – DAY
The Goshawk flies past the wrought iron gates of the British
Fort.
Saoirse, pistol raised, leads men, women and children, armed
with pikes, knives, muskets, rocks, torches and pitchforks.
They storm through the gates.
SUPER: CASTLEBAR BARRACKS
They join Napoleon’s army and engage the British in a vicious
fight to the death.
SAOIRSE (V.O.)
Catholic, Protestant and French.
Together we slammed into that
Redcoat line like a tidal wave.
We didn’t have much of anything but
our rage. It was our greatest
weapon — winning us many un-
winnable battles.
Perched on the roof of the armory, the Goshawk’s piercing
amber eyes flicker.
SAOIRSE (V.O.)
But — these small victories came at
a heavy cost.
The Goshawk SCREECHES.
Genres:
["Historical","War","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
50 -
The Cost of Rebellion
EXT. SAINT ANDREW’S CHURCH – DAY
The bells of St. Andrews Church of England ring out.
Parishioners head inside, shielding their eyes from the sight
of the dozens of bodies hanging from trees and lampposts.
SAOIRSE (V.O)
King George, humiliated and enraged
at our arrogance, sent tens of
thousands of reinforcements to
crush what remained of us — and
they struck without mercy.
The brutalized bodies of Seamus and Siobhan hang together.
SAOIRSE
Guilty, innocent — young, old —
Protestant or Catholic. None were
spared.
Genres:
["Historical","Drama","War"]
Ratings
Scene
51 -
Defiance Amidst Despair
EXT. COURTHOUSE – DAY
The sky burns red in the morning light. The Goshawk swoops
down and lands on a tree beside Saoirse.
Their eyes meet — then, cloaked in shadow across the road
from the looming courthouse, both of their eyes fix on the
courthouse.
Dozens of other onlookers wait in tense anticipation.
The courthouse doors BURST open.
Soldiers drag a half-dozen bound and beaten men down the
steps.
A wave of shock and grief ripples through the crowd.
Mothers shield their children’s eyes.
A young boy peers out from behind his mother’s skirts.
Family members of the men cry out in anger and despair,
calling out their names.
A SOBBING WOMAN woman screams in anguish. Her voice breaks.
SOBBING WOMAN
Stay strong, Francis!
She drops to her knees — inconsolable. Her distraught
DAUGHTER (13), picks up a rock.
Saoirse rushes over and swats it out of the girl’s hand.
SAOIRSE
(whispers)
No! Not yet!
The crowd bows their heads — some cross themselves.
The Redcoats throw the men and boys into a caged, horse-drawn
prisoner cart — and return up the steps.
Moments later — The courthouse doors fling open again.
Six Redcoats drag a savagely beaten Wolfe Tone down the
courthouse steps.
GASPS — CURSES — CRIES — WHISPERED PRAYERS.
The angry MURMURS and cries give rise to raw fury.
CROWD
(overlapping)
“Holy saints preserve us…”
“God help him!”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”
“Tone!”
The soldiers throw Wolfe Tone into the Prison cart like a
sack of waste.
SAOIRSE (V.O.)
They captured Wolfe on his return
from France with General Humbert
and his men — cut down by a
traitor’s betrayal.
A teenage lad, eyes blazing, fists clenched, grabs a rock.
SOLDIERS’ MUSKETS SNAP UP.
He hesitates, glares at them, then spits and drops the rock.
SAOIRSE
They sentenced Wolfe Tone to be
drawn, quartered, and hanged in the
public square as a gruesome warning
to other dreamers.
(beat)
Defiant as ever, he slit his own
throat in his cell — denying them
their vulgar spectacle.
THUNDER CRACKS!
The horses NEIGH and violently REAR.
While soldiers struggle to restrain them, Tone scans the
crowd through battered, swollen eyes.
He locks eyes with Saoirse. He nods. She nods back — her own
eyes filled with tears.
The cart pulls away from the Courthouse.
Saoirse watches it disappear around a bend, then — clutches
her knife.
Bound by her vow, she’s determined to finish what they
started — and disappears into the alley.
THUNDER CLAPS!
The Goshawk SCREECHES and alights, disappearing into the sky.
Genres:
["Historical","Drama","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
52 -
Heritage and Hope
EXT. COUNTRYSIDE - DAY
The morning sun glitters off the bronze feathers of a soaring
Goshawk.
It rides the wind, high above rolling hills, rivers, stone
cottages, and distant manor homes.
A ROOSTER CROWS.
Cattle and sheep graze the hills. Children play in pastures.
Old farmers plow fields. Others shear complacent sheep.
The Goshawk veers and rides the wind towards —
KILLALA BAY
Glints of gold ripple across the calm water.
GULLS cry from the rocks below. A distant ship’s horn echoes.
SUPER: KILLALA BAY - 1850
Saoirse — elderly with her silver hair tied in a loose bun —
kneels at the top of the bluff and braids a child’s red hair.
The child, CATHERINE (11), swings her legs over the cliff’s
edge, staring over the bay — lost in thought.
CATHERINE
(Confused)
But Gran — How could Tone do that?
Father Kelley said killing yerself
is a mortal sin!
SAOIRSE
And maybe it is, love.
(looks over the bay)
Aye — maybe it is.
(stoic)
But so’s what they done to us.
She secures the child’s braid with a vibrant green ribbon.
SAOIRSE
We can only ask Jesus to forgive us
our trespasses — and, I suppose,
someday — we might have the
strength to forgive them too.
The wind sails in from the bay. The tall grass on the bluff
sways with it.
Saoirse lifts Catherine off her lap, stands and pushes a lock
of her hair back into place.
SAOIRSE
They thought they broke us,
Catherine — but the wind still
remembers us — and the land still
sings our name. Don’t ye and yers
ever forget. Promise?
CATHERINE
(solemn)
We won’t forget, Gran. Promise.
SAOIRSE
(embraces her)
Yer the seeds of tomorrow, like yer
mother — bless her soul.
(beat)
Like her — keep fighting — but
learn from our scars — and don’t
ever let them bury yer voice.
The Goshawk soars along the island’s curve — then circles
above the bluff and lands on a Hawthorn.
Something glints in the grass.
Catherine hikes her skirts and races to it.
It’s a Goshawk’s egg! Pale, freckled, cracked — but unbroken.
CATHERINE
Gran! Look!
She cradles it in her small palms and climbs the tree.
Bark scrapes her hands and knees. Branches bend.
SAOIRSE
Be careful, Catherine!
Halfway up, she finds the nest — looks inside.
CATHERINE
Oh! There’s more, Gran!
Several eggs nestled together begin to twitch. She gently
places the fallen egg beside its siblings.
The Goshawk, perched high above, watches.
Catherine looks up in wonder at the beautiful creature. They
lock eyes — time suspends — silent — sacred.
SAOIRSE (O.S.)
Hurry down, love. Mass is about to
start and I can’t miss Communion.
Men of God hate when we’re late.
Catherine makes her way down.
The Goshawk hops to the nest — peers in.
CRACK! A tiny beak splits one shell.
CRACK! Another. CRACK! And another!
The Goshawk lets out a final, piercing SCREECH.
Saoirse lifts Catherine down the final few feet. As her feet
hit the earth, Saoirse tickles her.
SAOIRSE
(laughing)
Beat ya back!
CATHERINE
Nuh unh!
They lift their skirts and race across the field toward a
stone cottage surrounded by beautiful yellow flowers.
The Goshawk, framed by a vast double rainbow forming over
Killala Bay — watches them run, barefoot and laughing.
It’s eyes flickers.
FADE OUT.