Dialogue with the Ancestors

King John

Seal it? Nay, I was compelled! Those treacherous barons, with their swords at my throat and the fields of Runnymede swimming in June mud, gave me no choice. They called it 'Magna Carta' — the Great Charter — as though liberty were theirs to grant. I sealed it to buy time, nothing more. Yet mark this: even in my darkest hour, my beloved Nichola de la Haye held Lincoln Castle in my name. Not all were faithless.

King John

Regret? 'Tis a word for those who had choices. I was born the youngest son — 'Lackland,' they mocked me. My father gave my brothers kingdoms and left me naught. My brother Richard spent England's treasure on his Crusade whilst I held the realm together. And when the barons turned, when the Pope cast his interdict upon my kingdom, when my own Crown Jewels were swallowed by the treacherous waters of the Wash… what is regret but the luxury of the victor? I fought. I endured. I died at Newark, alone, in October's bitter cold. Let history judge — but let it judge with all the facts.