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.