Sir Bedivere hastened back to the King and told him what he had seen.  “It is well,” said Arthur; “now, bear me to the water’s edge; and hasten, I pray thee, for I have tarried over-long and my wound has taken cold.”  So Sir Bedivere raised the King on his back and bore him tenderly to the lonely shore, where the lapping waves floated many an empty helmet and the fitful moonlight fell on the upturned faces of the dead.  Scarce had they reached the shore when there hove in sight a barge, and on its deck stood three tall women, robed all in black and wearing crowns on their heads.  “Place me in the barge,” said the King, and softly Sir Bedivere lifted the King into it.  And these three Queens wept sore over Arthur, and one took his head in her lap and chafed his hands, crying:  “Alas! my brother, thou hast been over-long in coming and, I fear me, thy wound has taken cold.”  Then the barge began to move slowly from the land.  When Sir Bedivere saw this, he lifted up his voice and cried with a bitter cry:  “Ah! my Lord Arthur, thou art taken from me!  And I, whither shall I go?” “Comfort thyself,” said the King, “for in me is no comfort more.  I pass to the Valley of Avilion, to heal me of my grievous wound.  If thou seest me never again, pray for me.”

So the barge floated away out of sight, and Sir Bedivere stood straining his eyes after it till it had vanished utterly.  Then he turned him about and journeyed through the forest until, at daybreak, he reached a hermitage.  Entering it, he prayed the holy hermit that he might abide with him, and there he spent the rest of his life in prayer and holy exercise.

But of King Arthur is no more known.  Some men, indeed, say that he is not dead, but abides in the happy Valley of Avilion until such time as his country’s need is sorest, when he shall come again and deliver it.  Others say that, of a truth, he is dead, and that, in the far West, his tomb may be seen, and written on it these words: 

     “Here lies Arthur, once King and King to be.”

CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE DEATH OF SIR LAUNCELOT AND OF THE QUEEN

When news reached Sir Launcelot in his own land of the treason of Mordred, he gathered his lords and knights together, and rested not till he had come to Britain to aid King Arthur.  He landed at Dover, and there the evil tidings were told him, how the King had met his death at the hands of his traitor nephew.  Then was Sir Launcelot’s heart nigh broken for grief.  “Alas!” he cried, “that I should live to know my King overthrown by such a felon!  What have I done that I should have caused the deaths of the good knights, Sir Gareth, Sir Gaheris, and Sir Gawain, and yet that such a villain should escape my sword!” Then he desired to be led to Sir Gawain’s tomb where he remained long in prayer and in great lamentation; after which he called to him his kinsmen and friends, and said to