So long as Constantine lived the realm had rest and peace; but he died
before his time had come, for he reigned but twelve short years. There
was a certain Pict of his household, a traitor, a foul felon, who for
a great while had been about his person. I cannot tell the reason why
he bore the king so mortal a grudge. This Pict took the king aside
privily in an orchard, as though he would speak to him of some hidden
matter. The king had no thought to keep himself from this false felon,
who whilst he made seeming to speak in his master's ear, drew forth a
knife and smote him therewith so shrewdly that he died. Then he fled
forth from the garden. But many a time have I heard tell that it was
Vortigern who caused Constantine to be slain. Great was the sorrow the
lords and all honest people made above their king, for the realm had
now no prince, save only those children of so tender an age. They laid
him in his tomb, but in no wise put him from remembrance. The whole
realm assembled together that they might make to themselves a king.
They doubted sorely which of the two young children they should
choose, for of them they knew neither good nor ill, seeing they were
but small and frail, and yet in their warden's charge. As to Constant,
the eldest son, who was of more fitting years, they dared not to pluck
the habit from his back, since all men deemed it shame and folly to
hale him forth from his abbey. The council would have ordained one of
the two children to be king had it not been for Vortigern, who arose
before them all. This Vortigern came from Wales, and was earl in his
own land. He was a strong knight of his body, exceeding rich in goods
and kin. Very courteous was he of speech; right prudent in counsel;
and long since had made straight the road that he coveted to tread.
"What reason is here," said he, "for doubtfulness? There is naught
else to do but to make this monk, Constant, our king. He is the
rightful heir; his brothers are not long from the breast; neither is