ied by the young king, they
demand yet more, and become themselves the tyrants."

"A traitor!--a traitor! Who speaks against our brave Wat Tyler? Kill
the traitor! Down with tyranny! Death to the king! God save the
people!"

With such clamour and angry talk did the crowd agitate itself, till
suddenly there arose a cry. "The king comes!"

And there rode up fearlessly, at the head of sixty men, a boy, only
fifteen years old, at sight of whom these rebels hung their heads and
let their wild clamour die on their lips. A few of the most determined
looked black as they regarded the royal boy, and noted the effect his
frank carriage had on their followers.

"I am come," said King Richard, rising on his horse at a few paces from
the front of the crowd, "as I promised, to confer with my subjects and
hear their grievances. Let your leader advance and speak with me."

Then Wat Tyler turned to his followers and said to them, "I will go
speak with him; do you abide my signal, then come on and slay all save
the young king; he will serve us better as a humble captive in our
hands, to lead through the land and bring all men to our service, than
as a slaughtered tyrant at our feet."

So he put spurs to his horse and advanced towards the king, whom he
approached so close that the flank of the horse touched that of the
king's. Richard, nothing daunted by this threatening demeanour, turned
courteously towards him and waited for him to speak.

"Do you see this concourse of people?" began Wat, rudely, pointing
towards the now silent crowd.

"I see them," said the boy. "What have you to ask on their behalf?"

"These men," said Tyler, "have sworn, one and all, to obey me in all
things, and to follow in whatever enterprise I shall lead them, and they
will not go hence till you grant us our petition."

"And I will grant it," replied the boy, frankly, for the demands to
which Wat Tyler now alluded had reference to the rights of the people to
hunt and fish on common lands. "I will grant it."

What followed history does not very clearly record. Among the followers
of the king, Wat, it is said, caught sight of a knight whom for some
reason he hated. Turning his attention from the king, he glared angrily
at his enemy, and, putting his hand on the hilt of his dagger,
exclaimed, "By my faith, I will never eat bread till I have thy head!"
At that same instant up rode Sir William Walworth, the Lord Mayor of
London, who, seeing t