When Mordred heard him, he raised his dripping sword and ran to meet the king. Thus they met in mid-field, and King Arthur smote Mordred under the shield, the spear piercing his body more than a fathom.
Mordred felt that he had his death-wound, but with a last impulse of fury in his felon soul he thrust himself, with all his strength, up to the bur of King Arthur's spear. Then wielding his sword with both hands, he struck the king so dread a blow on the side of the head that the trenchant blade cut through the helmet and deep into the skull.
With this last and fatal stroke Mordred fell stark dead to the ground. And Arthur sank in a swoon to the earth, where he lay like one dead.
Thus sadly and direfully ended that dreadful war, with which came to a close the flower of the days of chivalry, and the glorious and never-to-be equalled fellowship of the Round Table, with all the mighty deeds of prowess and marvels of adventure that to it belonged. For of those noble knights, except Sir Lancelot and his kindred, only two lived, Sir Lucan the butler, and Sir Bevidere his brother, and of these two Sir Lucan was wounded unto death; and with them the illustrious King Arthur, whose chivalrous soul had so long sustained this noble order of knighthood, lay bleeding piteously upon that direful field of blood.
Sir Lucan and Bevidere, with bitter tears of sorrow, lifted their helpless king between them, and with great labor led him from that place of slaughter till they reached a small chapel near the sea-shore. Here, as the night drew on, the sound of many voices came to them, as if the dead had risen and were astir on the blood-stained field.
"What noise is this, Sir Lucan?" said the king. "Go, gentle friend, and tell me what it means."
Lucan went, and by the moonlight saw a throng of pillagers, who robbed the dead bodies of money and jewels, killing for their riches those knights who were not quite dead. When he brought this news back to Arthur, the king's sad heart came near to breaking.
"Alas! Lancelot," he said, "how have I missed you this day. Alas! that I ever turned against you, for had you been here this fatal end could never have been, nor those noble warriors left to be the prey of the wolves and jackals of the battle-field. Sorely have I erred and sadly have I been repaid for my error. But now, alas, it is too late for regret or amendment, for the fellowship of the Round Table is at an end, and Arthur the king shall reign no more."