that I may be king, all my counsel and all my land I will place in thine hand, and all that thou wilt do, my men shall accept it. And oaths I will swear to thee, that I will not deceive thee." Thus said the monk; he mourned greatly how else it were, that he were monk; for to him were black clothes wondrously odious. Vortiger was crafty and wary—that he made known everywhere—he took a cape of a knight of his, and on the monk he put it, and led him out of the place; he took a swain anon, and the black clothes put on him, and held secret discourse with the swain, as if it were the monk.

Monks passed upward, monks passed downward; they saw by the way the swain with monk's clothes; the hood hanged down as if he hid his crown; they all weened that it were their brother, who there sate so sorry in the speech-house, in the daylight, among all the knights. They came to their abbot, and greeted him in God's name: "Lord, benedicite, we are come before thee, for strange it seemeth to us what Vortiger thinketh in our speech-house, where he holdeth discourse, throughout this day no monk may come therein, except Constance alone, and the knights all clean. Sore we dread, that they him miscounsel." Then answered the abbot; "Nay, but they counsel him good; they bid him hold his hood (holy order), for now is his father dead." Vortiger there abode the while Constance away rode. Vortiger up arose, from the monastery departed, and all his knight out went forth-right.

The monks there ran thither anon, they weened to find Constance; when they saw the clothes lie by the walls, then each to other lamented their brother. The abbot leapt on horse, and after Vortiger rode, and soon gan overtake the Earl Vortiger. Thus said the abbot to Vortiger where he rode: "Say me, thou mad knight, why dost thou so great wrong? Thou takest from us our brother,—leave him, and take the other. Take Ambrosie the child, and make of him a king, and anger thou not Saint Benedict, nor do thou to him any wrong!"

Vortiger heard this—he was crafty and very wary;—soon he came back, and the abbot he took, and swore by his hand, that he would him hang, unless he him pledged, that he would forthright unhood Constance the king's son of this land, and for such need he should be king of this country. The abbot durst no other, there he unhooded his brother, and the child gave the abbot in hand twenty ploughlands, and afterwards they proceeded forth into London. Vortiger the high forbade his attendants, that they to no man should tell what they had in design. Vortiger lay in London, until the same set day came, that the knights of this land should come to husting.

At the day they came, many and numerous; they counselled, they communed, the stern warriors, that they would have Ambrosie, and raise for king; for Uther was too little—the yet he might suck—and Constance was monk, who was eldest of them, and they would not for anything make a monk king. Vortiger heard this, who was crafty and most wary, and leapt on foot as if it were a lion. None of the Britons there knew what Vortiger had done. He had in a chamber Constance the dear, well bathed and clothed, and afterwards hid with twelve knights. Then thus spake Vortiger—he was of craft wary: "Listen, lordings, the while that I speak of kings. I was in Winchester, where I well sped, I spake with the abbot, who is a holy man and good, and said him the need that is come to this nation by Constantin's death—therefore he is uneasy—and of Constance the child, that he had holden. And I bade him for love of God, to take off the child's hood, and for such need he should be king in the country. And the abbot took his counsel, and did all that I bade him; and here I have his monks, who are good and chief, who shall witness bear before you all. Lo! where here is the same child, make we hereof a king, and here I hold the crown that thereto behoveth, and whoso will this withsay, he shall it buy dear!"

Vortiger was most strong, the highest man of Britain, was there never any so bold that his words durst deprecate. In the same town was the archbishop dead, and there was no bishop that forth on his way did not pass, nor monk nor any abbot, that he on his way did not ride, for they durst not for fear of God do there the wrong, to take the monk child, and make him Britain's king. Vortiger saw this—of all evil he was well ware, up he gan to stand, the crown he took in hand, and he set it upon Constance—that was to him in thought. Was there never any man that might there do Christendom, that might do blessing upon the king, but Vortiger alone did it clean for all! The beginning was unfair, and also was the end, he deserted God's hood (holy order), therefore he had sorrow! Thus was Constance king of this land, and Vortiger was his steward.

Constance set all his kingdom in Vortiger's hand, and he did all in the land, as he himself would. Then saw Vortiger—of much evil he was ware—that Constance the king knew nothing of land (government?), for he had not learnt ever any learning, except what a monk should perform in his monastery. Vortiger saw that—the Worse was full nigh him!—oft he bethought him what he might do, how he might with leasing please the king. Now thou mayest hear, how this traitor gan him fare. The best men of Britain were all dead, now were the king's brothers both full little, and Guencehn the archbishop therebefore was dead, and this land's king himself of the law knew nothing. Vortiger saw this, and he came to the king, with mild speech his lord he gan greet: "Hail be thou, Constance, Britain's lord! I am come thus nigh thee for much need, for to say to thee tidings that are come to land, of very great danger. Now thee behoveth might, now weapons behove thee to defend thy country. Here are chapmen arrived from other lands, as it is the custom; they have brought to me toll for their goods, and they have told me and plighted troth, that the King of Norway will newly fare hither, and the Danish king these Danes will seek, and the King of Russia, sternest of all knights, and the King of Gothland with host most strong, and the King of Frise—therefore it alarmeth me. The tidings are evil that are come to land; herefore I am most adread, for I know no good counsel, unless we may with might send after knights, that are good and strong, and that are well able in land, and fill thy castles with keen men, and so thou mightest defend thy kingdom against foreigners, and maintain thy worship with high strength. For there is no kingdom, so broad nor so long, that will not soon be taken if there are too few warriors."

Then answered the king—of land he knew nothing—"Vortiger, thou art steward over all Britain's land, and thou shalt it rule after thy will. Send after knights that are good in fight; and take all in thine hand, my castles and my land, and do all thy will, and I will be still, except the single thing, that I will be called king."

Then laughed Vortiger—he was of evil most ware—was he never so blithe ere in his life! Vortiger took leave, and forth he gan pass, and so he proceeded through all Britain's land, all the castles and all the land he set in his own hand, and the fealty he took ever where he came. And so he took his messengers, and sent to Scotland, and ordered the Peohtes, the knights best of all, three hundred to come to him, and he would well do to them. And the knights came to him thereafter well soon; thus spake the traitorous man: "Knights, ye are welcome. I have in my hand all this regal land, with me ye shall go, and I will you love, and I will you bring before our king; ye shall have silver and gold, the best horses of this land, clothes, and fair wives; your will I will perform Ye shall be to me dear, for the Britons are hateful to me, loud and still I will do your will, if ye will in land hold me for lord." Then forth-right answered the knights "We will do all thy will," and they gan proceed to Constance the king. To the king came