Thus went on the deadly fray all day long, without pause or stint, till noble knights lay like fallen leaves upon the bloody ground. And when nightfall was at hand they still fought with desperate valor, though by that time full a hundred thousand men lay dead upon the down.
Then the heart of Arthur grew full of warlike fury, to see so many of his people slain. And when the sun was near its setting, he leaned upon his crimson sword, and looked about him with eyes that seemed to weep blood. For of all his mighty host of knights but two remained alive, Sir Lucan the butler, and his brother Sir Bevidere; and both of these were sorely wounded.
"God's mercy!" cried the king, "where are all my noble knights? Alas! that I have lived to see this doleful day! Now, indeed, am I come to my end. But would to God I knew where to find that traitor, Mordred, who has caused all this mischief."
As he spoke, his eyes fell on Mordred, who stood leaning upon his sword amid a great heap of slain, for his host had been slaughtered to a man.
"Give me my spear," cried Arthur, wrathfully, to Sir Lucan. "Yonder stands the traitor who has wrought this dire woe."
"Let him be," said Lucan. "He is unhappy enough. Remember, my good lord, your last night's dream, and what the spirit of Sir Gawaine told you. For God's sake make an end of this fray. Blessed be God, we have won the field; for here are three of us alive, while Mordred stands alone among his dead. If you leave off now, the wicked day of destiny will pass and life remain to you. Your time for revenge will come hereafter."
"Betide me life, betide me death," cried the king, "this fray must end here. Now that I see him yonder alone, he shall never escape my hands. One or both of us shall die."
"Then God speed the just cause," said Bevidere.
With no word more Arthur took his spear in both hands, and ran furiously at Mordred, crying,—
"Traitor, now has thy day of death come!"