And so it came to pass that the King found himself once more at large, and marvelled to have won so lightly to liberty.  Yet knew he not the depths of treachery in the heart of Annoure; for when she found she might not prevail with the King, she bethought her how, by mortal means, she might bring the King to dishonour and death.  And so, by her magic art, she caused the King to follow a path that brought him to a fountain, whereby a knight had his tent, and, for love of adventure, held the way against all comers.  Now this knight was Sir Pellinore, and at that time he had not his equal for strength and knightly skill, nor had any been found that might stand against him.  So, as the King drew nigh, Pellinore cried:  “Stay, knight, for none passes this way except he joust with me.”  “That is no good custom,” said the King; “it were well that ye followed it no more.”  “It is my custom, and I will follow it still,” answered Pellinore; “if ye like it not, amend it if ye may.”  “I will do my endeavour,” said Arthur, “but, as ye see, I have no spear.”  “Nay, I seek not to have you at advantage,” replied Pellinore, and bade his squire give Arthur a spear.  Then they dressed their shields, laid their lances in rest, and rushed upon each other.  Now the King was wearied by his night’s vigil, and the strength of Pellinore was as the strength of three men; so, at the first encounter, Arthur was unhorsed.  Then said he:  “I have lost the honour on horseback, but now will I encounter thee with my sword and on foot.”  “I, too, will alight,” said Pellinore; “small honour to me were it if I slew thee on foot, I being horsed the while.”  So they encountered each other on foot, and so fiercely they fought that they hewed off great pieces of each other’s armour and the ground was dyed with their blood.  But at the last, Arthur’s sword broke off short at the hilt, and so he stood all defenceless before his foe.  “I have thee now,” cried Pellinore; “yield thee as recreant or I will slay thee.”  “That will I never,” said the King, “slay me if thou canst.”  Then he sprang on Pellinore, caught him by the middle, and flung him to the ground, himself falling with him.  And Sir Pellinore marvelled, for never before had he encountered so bold and resolute a foe; but exerting his great strength, he rolled himself over, and so brought Arthur beneath him.  Then had Arthur perished, but at that moment Merlin stood beside him, and when Sir Pellinore would have struck off the King’s head, stayed his blow, crying:  “Pellinore, if thou slayest this knight, thou puttest the whole realm in peril; for this is none other than King Arthur himself.”  Then was Pellinore filled with dread, and cried:  “Better make an end of him at once; for if I suffer him to live, what hope have I of his grace, that have dealt with him so sorely?” But before Pellinore could strike, Merlin caused a deep sleep to come upon him; and raising King Arthur from the ground, he staunched his wounds and recovered him of his swoon.