And riding through many strange countries, over marshes and valleys, he came at length before a castle.  As he passed by he heard two little bells ringing, and looking up, he saw a falcon flying overhead, with bells tied to her feet, and long strings dangling from them.  And as the falcon flew past an elm-tree, the strings caught in the boughs, so that she could fly no further.

In the meanwhile, came a lady from the castle and cried, “Oh, Sir Lancelot! as thou art the flower of all knights in the world, help me to get my hawk, for she hath slipped away from me, and if she be lost, my lord my husband is so hasty, he will surely slay me!”

“What is thy lord’s name?” said Sir Lancelot.

“His name,” said she, “is Sir Phelot, a knight of the King of Northgales.”

“Fair lady,” said Sir Lancelot, “since you know my name, and require me, on my knighthood, to help you, I will do what I can to get your hawk.”

And thereupon alighting, he tied his horse to the same tree, and prayed the lady to unarm him.  So when he was unarmed, he climbed up and reached the falcon, and threw it to the lady.

Then suddenly came down, out of the wood, her husband, Sir Phelot, all armed, with a drawn sword in his hand, and said, “Oh, Sir Lancelot! now have I found thee as I would have thee!” and stood at the trunk of the tree to slay him.

“Ah, lady!” cried Sir Lancelot, “why have ye betrayed me?”

“She hath done as I commanded her,” said Sir Phelot, “and thine hour is come that thou must die.”

“It were shame,” said Lancelot, “for an armed to slay an unarmed man.”

“Thou hast no other favour from me,” said Sir Phelot.

“Alas!” cried Sir Lancelot, “that ever any knight should die weaponless!” And looking overhead, he saw a great bough without leaves, and wrenched it off the tree, and suddenly leaped down.  Then Sir Phelot struck at him eagerly, thinking to have slain him, but Sir Lancelot put aside the stroke with the bough, and therewith smote him on the side of the head, till he fell swooning to the ground.  And tearing his sword from out his hands, he shore his neck through from the body.  Then did the lady shriek dismally, and swooned as though she would die.  But Sir Lancelot put on his armour, and with haste took his horse and departed thence, thanking God he had escaped that peril.

And as he rode through a valley, among many wild ways, he saw a knight, with a drawn sword, chasing a lady to slay her.  And seeing Sir Lancelot, she cried and prayed to him to come and rescue her.

At that he went up, saying, “Fie on thee, knight! why wilt thou slay this lady?  Thou doest shame to thyself and all knights.”

“What hast thou to do between me and my wife?” replied the knight.  “I will slay her in spite of thee.”

“Thou shall not harm her,” said Sir Lancelot, “till we have first fought together.”

“Sir,” answered the knight, “thou doest ill, for this lady hath betrayed me.”