“Keep me,” but on the other, “Throw me away,” and, sore perplexed, he had shown it to Merlin, the great wizard, who said:  “Keep it now.  The time for casting away has not yet come.”  Thinking on this, it seemed to Bedivere that no good, but harm, must come of obeying the King’s word; so hiding the sword under a tree, he hastened back to the little chapel.  Then said the King:  “What saw’st thou?” “Sir,” answered Bedivere, “I saw naught but the waves, heard naught but the wind.”  “That is untrue,” said King Arthur; “I charge thee, as thou art true knight, go again and spare not to throw away the sword.”

Sir Bedivere departed a second time, and his mind was to obey his lord; but when he took the sword in his hand, he thought:  “Sin it is and shameful, to throw away so glorious a sword” Then, hiding it again, he hastened back to the King.  “What saw’st thou?” said Sir Arthur.  “Sir, I saw the water lap on the crags.”  Then spoke the King in great wrath:  “Traitor and unkind!  Twice hast thou betrayed me!  Art dazzled by the splendour of the jewels, thou that, till now, hast ever been dear and true to me?  Go yet again, but if thou fail me this time, I will arise and, with mine own hands, slay thee.”

Then Sir Bedivere left the King and, that time, he took the sword quickly from the place where he had hidden it and, forbearing even to look upon it, he twisted the belt about it and flung it with all his force into the water.  A wondrous sight he saw for, as the sword touched the water, a hand rose from out the deep, caught it, brandished it thrice, and drew it beneath the surface.

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 overlong 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 overlong 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.