But none won the prize, though very many noble knights jousted with the Chevalier Mal Fet.
Last of all came Percivale and Hector, who had been long in search of Lancelot. Learning the challenge, Percivale jousted with Lancelot, and afterwards they fought with swords. So long and even was their combat, that a length both paused for breath. And now Percivale, wondering who this sturdy knight could be, told his name, and asked for his in return. At this, Lancelot threw away his weapon, and took his late opponent in his arms, crying out that he was Lancelot du Lake.
Glad was the meeting between these old friends and comrades, and richly were the new-comers entertained in the castle. But in the end they persuaded Lancelot to go with them to Camelot, and the disconsolate Elaine was left to return, with her knights and ladies, to her father's castle.
After these events years came and went, until many summers and winters had passed over England's fair isle, and age had begun to lay its hand on those who had been young, while those who had been children grew up and became knights and ladies. Then came at length the time fixed by destiny for the adventure of the Sangreal. And thus this adventure began.
When again approached the vigil of Pentecost, and all the fellowship of the Round Table had come to Camelot, and the tables were set to dine, there rode into the great hall a gentlewoman of noble aspect, whose horse was white with sweat and foam.
She saluted Lancelot and begged him to go with her, though whither and for what purpose she would not say. Stirred by his love of adventure, he armed and rode with her, and before the day's end reached an abbey of nuns in a secluded valley. Here, as he stood conversing with the abbess, there came in to him twelve nuns, bringing with them a youth who had not yet reached manhood, but was large and powerful of frame, and as handsome of face as any man he had ever seen.
"Sir," said the ladies, with weeping eyes, "we bring you this child, whom we have long nourished, and pray you to make him a knight; for there is no worthier man from whom he can receive the order of knighthood, and we hold him worthy of your sword."
Lancelot looked long at the young squire, and saw that he was seemly, and demure as a dove, and of wonderful beauty of form and features, and his heart went out with great love for the beautiful youth.
"What is his name?" asked Lancelot.
"We call him Galahad."