“Nay, my Lord Arthur,” answered then Sir Ector, “we are of no blood-kinship with thee, and little though I thought how high thy kin might be, yet wast thou never more than foster-child of mine.” And then he told him all he knew about his infancy, and how a stranger had delivered him, with a great sum of gold, into his hands to be brought up and nourished as his own born child, and then had disappeared.
But when young Arthur heard of it, he fell upon Sir Ector’s neck, and wept, and made great lamentation, “For now,” said he, “I have in one day lost my father and my mother and my brother.”
“Sir,” said Sir Ector presently, “when thou shalt be made king be good and gracious unto me and mine.”
“If not,” said Arthur, “I were no true man’s son at all, for thou art he in all the world to whom I owe the most; and my good lady and mother, thy wife, hath ever kept and fostered me as though I were her own; so if it be God’s will that I be king hereafter as thou sayest, desire of me whatever thing thou wilt and I will do it; and God forbid that I should fail thee in it.”
“I will but pray,” replied Sir Ector, “that thou wilt make my son Sir Key, thy foster-brother, seneschal of all the lands.”
“That shall he be,” said Arthur; “and never shall another hold that office, save thy son, while he and I do live.”
Anon, they left the church and went to the archbishop to tell him that the sword had been achieved. And when he saw the sword in Arthur’s hand he set a day and summoned all the princes, knights, and barons to meet again at St. Paul’s Church and see the will of Heaven signified. So when they came together, the sword was put back in the stone, and all tried, from the greatest to the least, to move it; but there before them all not one could take it out save Arthur only.
But then befell a great confusion and dispute, for some cried out it was the will of Heaven, and, “Long live King Arthur,” but many more were full of wrath and said, “What! would ye give the ancient sceptre of this land unto a boy born none know how?” And the contention growing greatly, till nothing could be done to pacify their rage, the meeting was at length broken up by the archbishop and adjourned till Candlemas, when all should meet again.
But when Candlemas was come, Arthur alone again pulled forth the sword, though more than ever came to win it; and the barons, sorely vexed and angry, put it in delay till Easter. But as he had sped before so he did at Easter, and the barons yet once more contrived delays till Pentecost.