For Love and Gold 1966

In a quiet Italian village, a band of Hungarian raiders sweeps through, leaving a trail of ruined homes and frightened villagers. A wounded knight arrives in the aftermath and, in a swift clash of steel, defeats the attackers. Yet the victory is short-lived: as he lies healing his wounds, two surviving raiders and one of the thieves seize the moment and fling him into a river. The scene sets a tone of rough justice and dark humor that threads through what follows.

From the aftermath, a miserly Jewish merchant scavenges through the knight’s gear and uncovers a torn parchment. The document bears a grant from the Holy Roman Emperor, promising the knight the fief of Aurocastro, a town in Apulia. The parchment is damaged at the bottom, obscuring a crucial condition that must be fulfilled to receive the donation. This missing piece becomes the seed of the film’s central conflict and the motive behind the band’s next moves.

The attackers hatch a bold scheme: recruit a cadet nobleman to help seize the fief and share in its riches. They search for a suitable banner bearer while the wounded knight’s fate hangs in the balance. The group discovers the purported noble champion and present Brancaleone da Norcia [Vittorio Gassman] as the one who handed them the parchment before dying. Brancaleone, initially reluctant, is drawn into the plan only after a farcical defeat at a jousting tournament—an event that promises not just wealth and a wife’s hand, but a quick route to power. The taste of imagined glory and the lure of a grand quest convince him to take command of what he believes will be a legendary “army” of misfits, a troupe he dubs as a path to fortune and glory.

As they trundle toward the fief, Brancaleone’s march becomes a carnival of grotesque and comic trials. The medieval world they move through is a jumble of cultures, codes, and absurdities, and each episode tests the fellowship’s resolve while exposing the ridiculous gaps between idealized chivalry and harsh reality. The group encounters a string of challenges that mix danger with farce, painting a broader portrait of a society pulsing with contradictions, where noble ideals clash with petty interests and everyday hunger.

Upon reaching the fief, a grim reminder appears: the missing portion of the parchment requires that the new ruler provide adequate defences against a looming threat described as the “black scourge coming from the sea.” In a cartoonish, Rube Goldberg–like defense against Saracen raiders, Brancaleone designs a trap meant to safeguard the town, but the plan backfires and the caravan finds itself trapped instead. The moment presses hard, and the band stands on the edge of execution by impalement, the stakes suddenly sharpened by the revelation that the rightful owner of the fief is very much alive and intent on vengeance.

Just when hope seems dim, the knight from the opening scenes reappears, ready to mete out punishment for the attack on his person and property. Yet fate twists again when a mad monk rides into the scene and interrupts the impending fate. The monk’s arrival diverts the ire of the avenger, and Brancaleone and his companions are saved from a grim doom, allowing them to shift their aim—from mere wealth to a solemn obligation: to fulfill their duty and press onward toward the Holy Land.

This turn of events leaves Brancaleone emotionally unsettled but stubbornly determined. The idea of riches fades, replaced by a stubborn resilience and a renewed sense of purpose. The leader’s confidence returns as he reclaims his footing—physically mounting again on his horse and metaphorically taking the reins of his ragtag “army.” The journey continues beyond this film’s end, heading toward grander, more arduous horizons in the follow-up Brancaleone alle Crociate (1970).

A tale that blends chaos, comedy, and a kernel of earnest purpose, the story paints a portrait of a man who aims for glory but discovers something more enduring: the courage to keep moving, even when the path is ridiculous, dangerous, and wholly uncertain.