hus they met in mid-field, and King Arthur smote Mordred under
the shield, the spear piercing his body more than a fathom.

Mordred felt that he had his death-wound, but with a last impulse of
fury in his felon soul he thrust himself, with all his strength, up to
the bur of King Arthur's spear. Then wielding his sword with both hands,
he struck the king so dread a blow on the side of the head that the
trenchant blade cut through the helmet and deep into the skull.

With this last and fatal stroke Mordred fell stark dead to the ground.
And Arthur sank in a swoon to the earth, where he lay like one dead.

Thus sadly and direfully ended that dreadful war, with which came to a
close the flower of the days of chivalry, and the glorious and
never-to-be equalled fellowship of the Round Table, with all the mighty
deeds of prowess and marvels of adventure that to it belonged. For of
those noble knights, except Sir Lancelot and his kindred, only two
lived, Sir Lucan the butler, and Sir Bevidere his brother, and of these
two Sir Lucan was wounded unto death; and with them the illustrious King
Arthur, whose chivalrous soul had so long sustained this noble order of
knighthood, lay bleeding piteously upon that direful field of blood.

Sir Lucan and Bevidere, with bitter tears of sorrow, lifted their
helpless king between them, and with great labor led him from that place
of slaughter till they reached a small chapel near the sea-shore. Here,
as the night drew on, the sound of many voices came to them, as if the
dead had risen and were astir on the blood-stained field.

"What noise is this, Sir Lucan?" said the king. "Go, gentle friend, and
tell me what it means."

Lucan went, and by the moonlight saw a throng of pillagers, who robbed
the dead bodies of money and jewels, killing for their riches those
knights who were not quite dead. When he brought this news back to
Arthur, the king's sad heart came near to breaking.

"Alas! Lancelot," he said, "how have I missed you this day. Alas! that I
ever turned against you, for had you been here this fatal end could
never have been, nor those noble warriors left to be the prey of the
wolves and jackals of the battle-field. Sorely have I erred and sadly
have I been repaid for my error. But now, alas, it is too late for
regret or amendment, for the fellowship of the Round Table is at an end,
and Arthur the king shall reign no more."

CHAPTER VI.

THE PASSING OF ARTHUR.

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