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.
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