“In the name of God,” said Sir Percival, “I shall assay to handle this sword; “and set his hand to it, but could not grasp it.  “By my faith,” said he, “now have I failed.”

Sir Bors set his hand to it, and failed also.

Then came Sir Galahad, and saw these letters written red as blood, “None shall draw me forth save the hardiest of all men; but he that draweth me shall never be shamed or wounded to death.”  “By my faith,” said Sir Galahad, “I would draw it forth, but dare not try.”

“Ye may try safely,” said the gentlewoman, Sir Percival’s sister, “for be ye well assured the drawing of this sword is forbid to all but you.  For this was the sword of David, King of Israel, and Solomon his son made for it this marvellous pommel and this wondrous sheath, and laid it on this bed till thou shouldest come and take it up; and though before thee some have dared to raise it, yet have they all been maimed or wounded for their daring.”

“Where,” said Sir Galahad, “shall we find a girdle for it?”

“Fair sir,” said she, “dismay you not;” and therewith took from out a box a girdle, nobly wrought with golden thread, set full of precious stones and with a rich gold buckle.  “This girdle, lords,” said she, “is made for the most part of mine own hair, which, while I was yet in the world, I loved full well; but when I knew that this adventure was ordained me, I cut off and wove as ye now see.”

[Illustration:  “This girdle, lords,” said she, “is made for the most part of mine own hair, which, while I was yet in the world, I loved full well.”]

Then they all prayed Sir Galahad to take the sword, and so anon he gripped it in his fingers; and the maiden girt it round his waist, saying, “Now reck I not though I die, for I have made thee the worthiest knight of all the world.”

“Fair damsel,” said Sir Galahad, “ye have done so much that I shall be your knight all the days of my life.”

Then the ship sailed a great way on the sea, and brought them to land near the Castle of Carteloise.  When they were landed came a squire and asked them, “Be ye of King Arthur’s court?”

“We are,” said they.

“In an evil hour are ye come,” said he, and went back swiftly to the castle.

Within a while they heard a great horn blow, and saw a multitude of well-armed knights come forth, who bade them yield or die.  At that they ran together, and Sir Percival smote one to the earth and mounted his horse, and so likewise did Sir Bors and Sir Galahad, and soon had they routed all their enemies and alighted on foot, and with their swords slew them downright, and entered into the castle.

Then came there forth a priest, to whom Sir Galahad kneeled and said, “In sooth, good father, I repent me of this slaughter; but we were first assailed, or else it had not been.”

“Repent ye not,” said the good man, “for if ye lived as long as the world lasted ye could do no better deed, for these were all the felon sons of a good knight, Earl Hernox, whom they have thrown into a dungeon, and in his name have slain priests and clerks, and beat down chapels far and near.”