"No," said the squire, "this is the king's sword, and it is not going into the hands of such a lowborn fellow as you. And, moreover," he added, after pausing a moment and looking at Walter with an expression of defiance, "if you and I had met somewhere alone, you would not have dared to talk as you have done, not for a heap of gold as high as this church." There was a famous church, called the Church of St. Bartholomew, near the place where the king and his party had halted. "By the powers," said Walter, "I will not eat this day before I have your head." Seeing that a quarrel was impending, the mayor of London and a dozen horsemen rode up and surrounded Walter and the squire. "Scoundrel!" said the mayor, "how dare you utter such threats as those?" "What business is that of yours?" said Walter, turning fiercely toward the mayor. "What have you to do with it?" "Seize him!" said the king; for the king himself was now beginning to lose his patience. The mayor, encouraged by these words, and being already in a state of boiling indignation and rage, immediately struck a tremendous blow upon Walter's head with a cimeter which he had in his hand. The blow stunned him, and he fell heavily from his horse to the ground. One of the horsemen who had come up with the mayor--a man named John Standwich--immediately dismounted, and thrust the body of Walter through with his sword, killing him on the spot. In the mean time, the crowd of the insurgents had remained where Walter had left them, watching the proceedings. They had received orders not to move from their position until Walter should make the signal; but when they saw Walter struck down from his horse, and stabbed as he lay on the ground, they cried out, "They have killed our captain. Form the lines! form the lines! We will go and kill every one of them." So they hastily formed in array, and got their weapons ready, prepared to charge upon the king's party; but Richard, who in all these transactions evinced a degree of bravery and coolness very remarkable for a young man of sixteen, rode forward alone, and boldly, to meet them. "Gentlemen," said he, "you have no leader but me. I am your king. Remain quiet and peaceable." The insurgents seemed not to know what to do on hearing these words. Some began to move away, but the more violent and determined kept their ground, and seemed still bent on mischief. The king went back to his party, and asked them what they should do next. Some advised that they should make for the open fields, and try to escape; but the mayor of London advised that they should remain quietly where they were. "It will be of no use," said he, "for us to try to make our escape, but if we remain here we shall soon have help."