“If thou mayest be of the Round Table,” answered Turquine, “I defy thee, and all thy fellows.”

“That is saying overmuch,” said Sir Lancelot.

Then, setting their lances in rest, they spurred their horses towards each other, as fast as they could go, and smote so fearfully upon each other’s shields, that both their horses’ backs brake under them.  As soon as they could clear their saddles, they took their shields before them, and drew their swords, and came together eagerly, and fought with great and grievous strokes; and soon they both had many grim and fearful wounds, and bled in streams.  Thus they fought two hours and more, thrusting and smiting at each other, wherever they could hit.

Anon, they both were breathless, and stood leaning on their swords.

“Now, comrade,” said Sir Turquine, “let us wait awhile, and answer me what I shall ask thee.”

“Say on,” said Lancelot.

“Thou art,” said Turquine, “the best man I ever met, and seemest like one that I hate above all other knights that live; but if thou be not he, I will make peace with thee, and for sake of thy great valour, will deliver all the three score prisoners and four who lie within my dungeons, and thou and I will be companions evermore.  Tell me, then, thy name.”

“Thou sayest well,” replied Sir Lancelot; “but who is he thou hatest so above all others?”

“His name,” said Turquine, “is Sir Lancelot of the Lake; and he slew my brother Sir Carados, at the dolorous tower; wherefore, if ever I shall meet with him, one of us two shall slay the other; and thereto I have sworn by a great oath.  And to discover and destroy him I have slain a hundred knights, and crippled utterly as many more, and many have died in my prisons; and now, as I have told thee, I have many more therein, who all shall be delivered, if thou tell me thy name, and it be not Sir Lancelot.”

“Well,” said Lancelot, “I am that knight, son of King Ban of Benwick, and Knight of the Round Table; so now I defy thee to do thy best!”

“Aha!” said Turquine, with a shout, “is it then so at last!  Thou art more welcome to my sword than ever knight or lady was to feast, for never shall we part till one of us be dead.”

Then did they hurtle together like two wild bulls, slashing and lashing with their shields and swords, and sometimes falling both on to the ground.  For two more hours they fought so, and at the last Sir Turquine grew very faint, and gave a little back, and bare his shield full low for weariness.  When Sir Lancelot saw him thus, he leaped upon him fiercely as a lion, and took him by the crest of his helmet, and dragged him to his knees; and then he tore his helmet off and smote his neck asunder.

Then he arose, and went to the damsel who had brought him to Sir Turquine, and said, “I am ready, fair lady, to go with thee upon thy service, but I have no horse.”

“Fair sir,” said she, “take ye this horse of the wounded knight whom Turquine but just now was carrying to his prisons, and send that knight on to deliver all the prisoners.”