was a seemly man, and
he lay as if he were dead, and the black hound licked his wound. And by
his side there was a lovely lady, who started up, weeping and wringing
her hands, and she said:

'O knight, too much evil have you brought to me!'

'Why say ye so?' said Sir Lancelot; 'I never did harm to this knight,
for hither did this hound lead me, and therefore, fair lady, be not
displeased with me, for grief is upon me for your sorrow and your
sadness.'

'Truly, sir,' said the lady, and she laid her face in her hands and
sobbed full sorely, so that Sir Lancelot was much stirred thereat, 'I
trow, as ye say it, that you are not the knight that hath near slain my
love and my husband. And never may he be healed of his deadly wound
except some good knight aid me. But he must be so bold and valiant a
man, that never, I think, may I find such a one in the little time I
have before my dear lord shall die!'

'Now on the honour of my knighthood,' replied Sir Lancelot, 'I do not
presume that I am such a one as you desire; but if I may aid you and
ease your sorrow, that would I do most willingly. What is it I should
do?'

'Oh, sir knight!' cried the lady, and her lovely eyes looked full
thankfully at Sir Lancelot, 'if ye would, it were the greatest deed you
have ever done, however bold a knight ye may be. For this my lord is
sore wounded by a knight whom he met in the forest this day, and by one
thing only may he be made whole. For there is a lady, a sorceress, that
dwelleth in a castle here beside, and she hath told me that my
husband's wounds may never be whole till I may find a knight that would
go at midnight into the Chapel Perilous beside the Mere, and that
therein he should find before the high altar a sword, and the shroud in
which the dead wizard-knight is lapped, and with that sword my
husband's wounds should be searched, and a piece of the shroud should
bind them.'

'This is a marvellous thing,' said Sir Lancelot, 'and I will essay it.
But what is your husband's name?'

'Sir,' she said, 'his name is Sir Meliot de Logres.'

'That me repenteth,' said Sir Lancelot, 'for he is a fellow of the
Round Table, and for him will I do all in my power.'

Going to the table, he looked upon the ashen face of the wounded man,
and it was Sir Meliot, even as the lady said.

'Now, sir,' said the lady, when Sir Lancelot had mounted his horse, 'do
ye follow that hard way across the marsh, and it will lead ye by
midnight to the Ch