Chapter I

           KingVortigerntheusurpersatuponhisthroneinLondon,when,suddenly,uponacertainday,raninabreathlessmessenger,andcriedaloud—

           “Arise,LordKing,fortheenemyiscome;evenAmbrosiusandUther,uponwhosethronethousittest—andfulltwentythousandwiththem—andtheyhaveswornbyagreatoath,Lord,toslaythee,erethisyearbedone;andevennowtheymarchtowardstheeasthenorthwindofwinterforbitternessandhaste.”

           AtthosewordsVortigern’sfacegrewwhiteasashes,and,risinginconfusionanddisorder,hesentforallthebestartificersandcraftsmenandmechanics,andcommandedthemvehementlytogoandbuildhimstraightwayinthefurthestwestofhislandsagreatandstrongcastle,wherehemightflyforrefugeandescapethevengeanceofhismaster’ssons—“and,moreover,”criedhe,“lettheworkbedonewithinahundreddaysfromnow,orIwillsurelysparenolifeamongstyouall.”

           Thenallthehostofcraftsmen,fearingfortheirlives,foundoutapropersitewhereontobuildthetower,andeagerlybegantolayinthefoundations.Butnosoonerwerethewallsraisedupabovethegroundthanalltheirworkwasoverwhelmedandbrokendownbynightinvisibly,nomanperceivinghow,orbywhom,orwhat.Andthesamethinghappeningagain,andyetagain,alltheworkmen,fullofterror,soughtouttheking,andthrewthemselvesupontheirfacesbeforehim,beseechinghimtointerfereandhelpthemortodeliverthemfromtheirdreadfulwork.