Smithfield confrontation and death of Wat Tyler
Wat Tyler, leader of the Peasants' Revolt, confronts King Richard II's representatives at Smithfield. The meeting turns violent when the Mayor of London, fearing Tyler's boldness, strikes him down, le
Setting
Smithfield, London, England - a large open area outside the city walls, traditionally used for livestock markets and public gatherings. The ground is uneven, trampled by feet and hooves, with patches of mud and straw scattered about.
Characters
Wat Tyler
primary
A burly, middle-aged man with a weathered face, sunburnt from working outdoors. His hands are calloused, and his stance is that of a man accustomed to hard labor. His hair is unkempt, streaked with grey, and he has a prominent scar across his left cheek.
King's Guard
primary
A tall, broad-shouldered man in his late 30s, with a weathered face marked by a prominent scar across his left cheek. His piercing blue eyes survey the crowd with military precision, and his close-cropped brown hair is slightly greying at the temples. He wears a well-polished bascinet helmet with a raised visor, revealing his stern expression.
Mayor of London
secondary
A middle-aged man of sturdy build, with a weathered face marked by years of civic responsibility. His graying hair is neatly trimmed, and his piercing eyes reflect both authority and unease, given the circumstances. His hands, though well-manicured, bear the callouses of a man who has wielded both quill and sword.
Peasant Leader
secondary
A rugged man in his late 30s, with a weathered face marked by deep lines from years of labor and hardship. His build is strong and wiry, a testament to a life of toil. His hands are calloused, gripping a simple but well-worn weapon. His dark hair is streaked with grey, tied back loosely with a leather thong.
Angry Peasant
background
A rough-faced man in his late 30s, wiry and sunburnt from years of outdoor labor. His hands are calloused, and his posture is tense, coiled like a spring ready to release.
Dialog
Wat Tyler
By the blood of our backs, we demand justice! No more unjust taxes, no more chains of serfdom!
King's Guard
Stand down, Wat Tyler. His Grace offers parley, not surrender to rabble.
Mayor of London
Good sirs, peace! Let us treat this matter with the dignity it warrants. Violence serves no man’s cause.
Wat Tyler
Dignity? We are denied dignity daily! The lords feast while our children starve!
King's Guard
You tread on treason’s path. By order of the crown, disperse or be dispersed.
Mayor of London
Wat Tyler, yield now and your grievances may yet be heard. Further defiance is folly.
Wat Tyler
Folly is bowing to tyrants! We will not yield!