On the morrow morning all the knights rose early, and when they were fully armed, save shields and helms, they went in with the king and queen to service in the minster.  Then the king counted all who had taken the adventure on themselves, and found them a hundred and fifty knights of the Round Table; and so they all put on their helms, and rode away together in the midst of cries and lamentations from the court, and from the ladies, and from all the town.

But the queen went alone to her chamber, that no man might see her sorrow; and Sir Lancelot followed her to say farewell.

When she saw him she cried out, “Oh, Sir Lancelot, thou hast betrayed me; thou hast put me to death thus to depart and leave my lord the king.”

“Ah, madam,” said he, “be not displeased or angry, for I shall come again as soon as I can with honour.”

“Alas!” said she, “that ever I saw thee; but He that suffered death upon the cross for all mankind be to thee safety and good conduct, and to all thy company.”

Then Sir Lancelot saluted her and the king, and went forth with the rest, and came with them that night to Castle Vagon, where they abode, and on the morrow they departed from each other on their separate ways, every knight taking the way that pleased him best.

Now Sir Galahad went forth without a shield, and rode so four days without adventure; and on the fourth day, after evensong, he came to an abbey of white monks, where he was received in the house, and led into a chamber.  And there he was unarmed, and met two knights of the Round Table, King Bagdemagus, and Sir Uwaine.

“Sirs,” said Sir Galahad, “what adventure hath brought ye here?”

“Within this place, as we are told,” they answered, “there is a shield no man may bear around his neck without receiving sore mischance, or death within three days.”

“To-morrow,” said King Bagdemagus, “I shall attempt the adventure; and if I fail, do thou, Sir Galahad, take it up after me.”

“I will willingly,” said he; “for as ye see I have no shield as yet.”

So on the morrow they arose and heard mass, and afterwards King Bagdemagus asked where the shield was kept.  Then a monk led him behind the altar, where the shield hung, as white as any snow, and with a blood-red cross in the midst of it.

“Sir,” said the monk, “this shield should hang from no knight’s neck unless he be the worthiest in the world.  I warn ye, therefore, knights; consider well before ye dare to touch it.”

“Well,” said King Bagdemagus, “I know well that I am far from the best knight in all the world, yet shall I make the trial;” and so he took the shield, and bore it from the monastery.

“If it please thee,” said he to Sir Galahad, “abide here till thou hearest how I speed.”

“I will abide thee,” said he.