William: From his king? Absolutely. Here are Scotland's terms. Lower
your flags, and march straight back to England, stopping at every
home to beg forgiveness for 100 years of theft, rape, and murder. Do
that and your men shall live. Do it not, and every one of you will die
today.
Cheltham: You are outmatched. You have no heavy cavalry. In two
centuries no army has won without--.
William: I'm not finished. Before we let you leave, your commander
must cross that field, present himself before this army, put his head
between his legs, and kiss his own arse.
