Execution of John Ball
John Ball, a radical preacher and key figure in the Peasants' Revolt, is being publicly executed in St Albans as a warning to other rebels. The crowd watches in a mix of fear and anger, knowing this m
Setting
The execution site in St Albans, a public square near the marketplace, surrounded by timber-framed buildings and the looming presence of the Abbey in the distance. The gallows stand prominently in the center, a crude wooden structure with a noose hanging ominously.
Characters
John Ball
primary
A gaunt man in his late 40s, with a wiry frame and deep-set eyes that burn with conviction. His face is lined with hardship, and his hands bear the callouses of both labor and writing. His hair is cropped short in the tonsure style, now disheveled from imprisonment.
Executioner
secondary
A burly man in his late 30s, with broad shoulders and calloused hands from years of manual labor. His face is obscured by a rough hemp hood with eyeholes, revealing only a strong jawline and a few days' growth of beard. His movements are deliberate, betraying no hesitation in his grim task.
Town Sheriff
secondary
A middle-aged man with a stocky build, his face weathered by years of outdoor duty. His greying beard is closely cropped, and his piercing blue eyes scan the crowd with suspicion. His hands, calloused from handling weapons, rest uneasily on the hilt of his sword.
Young Peasant
background
A teenage boy of about 15 years, with a wiry build from years of labor. His sunburnt face is framed by unkempt straw-colored hair, and his hands bear the callouses of fieldwork. His deep-set blue eyes burn with quiet intensity.
Blacksmith's Wife
background
A middle-aged woman with a sturdy build, her face weathered from years of hard work and recent grief. Her hands are rough from labor, and her eyes are red and swollen from weeping. She wears her hair loosely tied back under a coif, with strands escaping to frame her face.
Dialog
John Ball
Hearken, good folk! Though this body be broken, the spirit of righteous rebellion shall not be hanged this day!
Sheriff
Enough of your treasonous tongue, priest. Get on with it, hangman.
Executioner
Aye... just... mind your neck, father.
John Ball
I mind not the rope, friend, but the injustice that brings us both to this tree! Remember well - no man is born with a halter 'round his neck!
Crowd Member
Shame! 'Tis a black day for St Albans!
Sheriff
Silence, or you'll join him! Guards - ready pikes!
John Ball
I go to God as free as I came from Him! Strike the blow, and let this be your lesson - chains break easiest when pulled by many hands!