Killing of Wat Tyler
Wat Tyler, the leader of the Peasants' Revolt, is mortally wounded by William Walworth, the Mayor of London, during a tense negotiation with King Richard II at Smithfield. Tyler had demanded further c
Setting
Smithfield, an open area outside London's walls, traditionally used for markets and livestock trading. The ground is uneven, trampled dirt mixed with patches of grass, surrounded by modest timber-framed buildings with thatched roofs.
Characters
Wat Tyler
primary
A rugged man in his early 40s with a wiry, muscular build from years of labor. His face is weathered and lined with deep creases, framed by unkempt brown hair streaked with gray. A fresh wound on his neck stains his tunic with blood, but his stance remains unbroken. His hands are calloused and strong, one clutching a simple dagger at his belt.
William Walworth
primary
A stocky, middle-aged man with a weathered face, thick dark hair streaked with gray, and a close-cropped beard. His piercing eyes are set deep under heavy brows, and his jaw is clenched with determination. His hands are calloused from years of wielding weapons, and he stands with the bearing of a man accustomed to authority.
King Richard II
secondary
A slender young man of 14 years with a pale complexion and delicate features, his light brown hair neatly trimmed just above his shoulders in the fashion of nobility. His deep-set blue eyes betray both youth and the weight of his crown, while his clean-shaven face shows the faintest traces of adolescent softness.
Peasant Rebel
secondary
A gaunt man in his late 30s with sunken cheeks and deep-set eyes, his face weathered by years of labor in the fields. His wiry frame shows the lean muscle of a man accustomed to hard work, with calloused hands that grip his crude weapon tightly. His dark brown hair is matted and unkempt, streaked with premature gray from hardship.
Royal Guard
background
A burly, middle-aged man with a weathered face, short cropped dark hair, and a thick beard. His muscular frame is built from years of training and combat. His piercing grey eyes scan the crowd with practiced vigilance.
Dialog
Wat Tyler
By the ploughshare! You'll grant us freedom or we'll burn London to the ground!
William Walworth
Silence, rebel! You dare threaten His Majesty's person?
Wat Tyler
No more taxes! No more lords! We'll have justice or blood!
William Walworth
This ends now, Tyler. In the name of the King!