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           “Oh,knight!”thensaidtheking,“thouhastthisdaywroughtmemuchdamagebythissword,butnowartthoucometothydeath,forIshallnotwarranttheebutthatthoushaltsuffer,erewepart,somewhatofthatthouhastmademesuffer.”AndtherewithalKingArthurflewathimwithallhismight,andpulledhimtotheearth,andthenstruckoffhishelm,andgavehimontheheadafearfulbuffet,tillthebloodleapedforth.“NowwillIslaythee!”criedKingArthur;forhisheartwashardened,andhisbodyallonfirewithfever,tillforamomentheforgothisknightlymercy.“Slaymethoumayest,”saidSirAccolon,“forthouartthebestknightIeverfound,andIseewellthatGodiswiththee;andI,asthouhast,havepromisedtofightthisbattletotheuttermost,andnevertoberecreantwhileIlive;thereforeshallIneveryieldmewithmymouth,andGodmustdowithmybodywhathewill.”AndasSirAccolonspoke,KingArthurthoughtheknewhisvoice;andpartingallhisblood-stainedhairfromouthiseyes,andleaningdowntowardshim,saw,indeed,itwashisfriendandowntrueknight.Thensaidhe—keepinghisownvisordown—“Ipraytheetellmeofwhatcountryartthou,andwhatcourt?”“Sirknight,”heanswered,“IamofKingArthur’scourt,andmynameisSirAccolonofGaul.”Thensaidtheking,“Oh,sirknight!Ipraytheetellmewhogavetheethissword?andfromwhomthouhadstit?”

           ThensaidSirAccolon,“Woeworththissword,forbyitIhavegottenmydeath.