Meanwhile, Wat Tyler had remained in London, with thirty thousand men at his back, to see that the kingly pledge was fulfilled. He had not been at Mile End during the conference with the king, and was not satisfied with the demands of the peasants. He asked, in addition, that the forest laws should be abolished, and the woods made free. The next day came. Chance brought about a meeting between Wat and the king, and hot blood made it a tragedy. King Richard was riding with a train of some sixty gentlemen, among them William Walworth, the mayor of London, when, by ill hap, they came into contact with Wat and his followers. "There is the king," said Wat. "I will go speak with him, and tell him what we want." The bold leader of the peasants rode forward and confronted the monarch, who drew rein and waited to hear what he had to say. "King Richard," said Wat, "dost thou see all my men there?" "Ay," said the king. "Why?" "Because," said Wat, "they are all at my command, and have sworn to do whatever I bid them." What followed is not very clear. Some say that Wat laid his hand on the king's bridle, others that he fingered his dagger threateningly. Whatever the provocation, Walworth, the mayor, at that instant pressed forward, sword in hand, and stabbed the unprotected man in the throat before he could make a movement of defence. As he turned to rejoin his men he was struck a death-blow by one of the king's followers. This rash action was one full of danger. Only the ready wit and courage of the king saved the lives of his followers,--perhaps of himself. "Kill! kill!" cried the furious peasants, "they have killed our captain." Bows were bent, swords drawn, an ominous movement begun. The moment was a critical one. The young king proved himself equal to the occasion. Spurring his horse, he rode boldly to the front of the mob. "What need ye, my masters?" he cried. "That man is a traitor. I am your captain and your king. Follow me!" His words touched their hearts. With loud shouts of loyalty they followed him to the Tower, where he was met by his mother with tears of joy. "Rejoice and praise God," the young king said to her; "for I have recovered to-day my heritage which was lost, and the realm of England." It was true; the revolt was at an end. The frightened nobles had regained their courage, and six thousand knights were soon at the service of the king, pressing him to let them end the rebellion with sword and spear. He refused. His word had been passed, and he would live to it--at least, until the danger was passed. The peasants still in London received their charters of freedom and dispersed to their homes. The city was freed of the low-born multitude who had held it in mortal terror.