'Let Arthur draw the sword!' was the call from a thousand throats.
The venerable archbishop came and took Arthur by the hand, and led him towards the sword. Again the young man held the rich pommel with his single hand, and that which none of the forty-nine great men could do, he did as easily as if he but plucked a flower.
A fierce cry leaped from among the thousands of the common people.
'Arthur shall be our King!' they cried. 'Arthur is our King! We will no longer deny him!'
Many of the princes and barons cried out with the commons that this was their will also; but eleven of the most powerful and ambitious showed by their arrogant and angry gestures that they refused to own Arthur as their lord.
For a long time the uproar raged, the cries of the common folk becoming fiercer and more menacing against the counter cries of the eleven kings and their adherents.
At length from among the people there came the governor of London, who, in his rich robes of office, leaped upon the stone where but lately the sword had been.
'My lords, I speak the will of the commons,' he cried, and at his voice all were silent. 'We have taken counsel together, and we will have Arthur for our King. We will put him no more in delay, for we all see that it is God's will that he shall be our King, and who that holdeth against him, we will slay.'
With that he got down from the stone, kneeled before Arthur, put the keys of the city in his hands, and rendered homage unto him. The great multitude kneeled likewise, bowing their bare heads, and cried him mercy because they had denied him so long.
Because they feared the great multitude, the eleven kings kneeled with them, but in their hearts was rage and rebellion.