"Lesses les aller!" cried the heralds again.
Then, spear in rest, the warriors spurred their horses, and met with a shock like thunder in the centre of the field. Lancelot kept his saddle, but Meliagrance was hurled over his horse's croup. Seeing this, Lancelot lightly sprang from his saddle, drew his sword, and advanced upon his foe, who was on his feet ready to meet him.
Hot and fierce was the combat that succeeded, many great strokes being given and returned; but at length Lancelot struck so fierce a blow that Meliagrance was felled to the ground. Then the dastard cried aloud in an agony of fear,—
"Noble knight, noble Sir Lancelot, spare my life, I humbly pray you! I yield me as overcome and recreant and beseech you, as a Knight and Fellow of the Round Table, not to slay me helpless. Alive or dead, I put myself in your hands and the king's."
Lancelot stood looking grimly down upon him, at a loss what to do. To slay him was the wish of his heart; yet it looked like murder to kill a praying wretch. In his doubt he turned towards the queen, and she nodded her head as if to bid him kill the villain.
"Rise, sir hound," cried Lancelot. "You shall fight this battle to the utterance."
"I will never rise," said Meliagrance, "till you grant me mercy as a yielding and recreant knight."
"Coward!" cried Lancelot. "If you fear to fight me as I am, I will give you odds in the combat. I will take off my armor from my head and the left side of my body, and let them bind my left hand behind me, and fight you with my right hand alone."
At this perilous offer Meliagrance started hastily to his feet, and loudly cried,—
"My lord Arthur, you have heard this offer! I accept it. Let him be disarmed and bound as he says."