William: I said I have an offer for you.
Lochlan: You disrespect a banner of truce?
William: From his king? Absolutely. Here are Scotland's terms. Lower your flags, and march straight back to England, stopping at every home you pass by 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: (laughing) 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.
[Cheltham rides off]
Mornay: I'd say that was rather less cordial that he was used to.
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