(The curtain opens to MASTER standing by an old wooden door with only a small candle lighting the scene. The walls are cobblestone. MASTER is dressed in a bizarre set of clothing. The door squeaks open and TORTURER walks out in a tight shirt with an armor plate over his chest; he has his hood pulled up over his head obscuring his face.)
Master the Thief is not speaking, we have taken his eye. He has started bleeding, should we let him die?
Keep him alive for the night, tomorrow we’ll bring more. The dawn will give us our light; we’ll use the tools from before.
His friend did not last through the saw, he only muttered with my kill. He seemed to not fear our god’s law, now he’s the devils thrill.
Then let him weep there in his hell, he needs not our pity. Let him be boiled where he dwell, in the devils committee.
(MASTER and TORTURER exit the stage leaving the audience with only the door. Then PEASANT enters and opens the door to THIEF’S cell where he looks at his wounded body. He lies in a pool of blood with a rag wrapped around his bleeding right eye.)
Thief can you hear me through your pain, can you stand to face me? You must leave they will not refrain, no matter how hard you plea.
(Thief struggles to lift his hand but manages to raise it. He reaches for PEASANT for a brief moment for his help before falling over to his side.)
Tomorrow brings your death Thief; they will smile with your screams. I assure you it won’t be brief, it will haunt you in deaths dreams.
(LADY ELIZABETH’S bedroom in the early morning, birds are chirping outside of her window. Just a quick glance of her room proves her to be of royalty. She has the finest things neatly surrounding her. She is sitting on her bed in her nightgown. Sleeping on the floor is Prophet in ragged cloths with dirty long hair. LADY ELIZABETH slides off of her bed to sit next to him.)
Prophet why have you come here looking such a way that would make even the sick sicker?
Lady, what has been said of my intentions have all been lies that can only be spoken by those who declare themselves saints. I myself am not so rebuttal is futile.
Then leave this room and leave my life for nothing that you speak convinces me to ponder otherwise. Just your look proves the tales that are being told. To associate myself with you would dilute my name.
(PROPHET stands up frantically)
But my name is just as noble as yours and does not deserve the taints that have been cursed upon it. How can I mend wounds that I did not cause? How can mend wounds that I do not know exist?
The Thief was caught Prophet and he is not speaking. Blood can taint even the sweetest voice.
But he is my brother Elizabeth; he is my blood but he does not dictate my values and should not damn me to a life of a convict. Release me from these shackles that have been bound upon me unjustly.
I loved you once Prophet. I desired the life that you offered me but nothing good can come of us remaining in an idea that can never be. Parting will heal your soul from anything that I may have done or may do in the possible future.
This would wound me beyond repair Elizabeth; I could never come back from the void that you are sending me.
Then take on that wound alone for I will not stand near you to catch your blood.
(PROPHET’S face is overcome with sadness as he accepts what he has been told, he leaves the room. LADY ELIZABETH looks down with a face just as sad as PROPHETS.)