Death of Wat Tyler
Wat Tyler, leader of the Peasants' Revolt, is fatally wounded by William Walworth, the Mayor of London, during a tense confrontation with King Richard II at Smithfield. The moment marks the violent en
Setting
Smithfield, London, England - an open area outside the city walls, used for markets and gatherings. The ground is trampled earth, patches of grass struggling to survive underfoot. Nearby stalls lie abandoned, their wooden frames casting long shadows.
Characters
Wat Tyler
primary
A rugged, sinewy man in his late thirties with sun-weathered skin and deep-set eyes that burn with conviction. His dark brown hair is cropped short and flecked with grey, framing a face marked by years of labor and conflict. A recent scar runs along his left cheekbone. Though lean, his frame carries the wiry strength of a man accustomed to hard work.
William Walworth
primary
A middle-aged man of sturdy build, with a weathered face marked by years of civic duty. His piercing eyes betray a sharp intellect and steely resolve. His thick, dark hair is streaked with grey, and his jaw is set with determination. His hands, though bearing the calluses of a merchant, grip his dagger with practiced ease.
Rebel Archer
secondary
A wiry man in his late twenties, with sun-weathered skin and calloused hands from years of drawing a bow. His lean frame suggests a life of hardship and physical labor. Dark, unruly hair falls to his shoulders, and a short beard frames his angular face. His keen eyes, accustomed to scanning distances, now dart between his fallen leader and the armed men before him.
King's Guard
secondary
A burly man in his late 30s with a weathered face marked by old scars. His thick arms suggest years of sword training, and his stance is that of a seasoned soldier. His dark brown hair is cropped short beneath his helmet, and his piercing blue eyes scan the crowd warily.
Dialog
Wat Tyler
Ye gutless snake! Strike a man at parley?
William Walworth
This rebellion ends here. The king's peace will be kept.
Wat Tyler
My lads... don't let 'em—
William Walworth
Disperse now, or face the same justice.
Wat Tyler
Bastards... all of ye... promised us...