"Traitor knight! Lancelot du Lake, false and caitiff wretch, now art thou taken in thy treason!"
So loud they cried that their voices rang throughout the court, and they crowded round the door of the queen's chamber, bent on taking Lancelot unarmed, and slaying him at the feet of Guenever. Fortunately the door was of solid oak, and a damsel of the queen had hastily shot the bolts.
"Alas!" cried the queen, "what vile plot is this? Mischief is around us, Lancelot!"
"Is there any armor in your chamber?" asked Lancelot. "If so, give it to me, and I will face this malicious crew."
"There is none," said the queen. "I see no hope, and fear our love has come to a fatal end. There seems to be a host of armed knights without. They will kill you, Lancelot, and death will come to me through their vile charge of unchastity."
"Why did I not even wear as much of my armor as I fought Meliagrance with!" cried Lancelot, in distress. "If I had but listened to Sir Bors! Never was I caught in such a trap before."
As they spoke the tumult without increased, and Mordred and Agravaine cried together,—
"Come out, thou traitor knight! Think not to escape, for we have you like a rat in a trap. Come out and meet your just deserts."
"Shall I bear this?" cried Lancelot, flaming into anger. "The dogs! a dozen of them in armor against one man in his mantle! I would rather meet death at once than stand and hear their reviling tongues."
Then he took the queen in his arms and kissed her, saying,—