It happened that, as the king and his queen were looking from a window of the palace which looked upon the Thames, they saw the black barge, and marvelled what it might mean.
The king made the barge to be held fast, and took the queen's hand, and with many knights went down to the water's edge, and there they saw a fair gentlewoman lying on a rich bed, and she lay as if she slept.
The king took the letter gently from the fair hand which held it, and went into his court, and ordered all his knights to assemble, and then opened the letter and read what was written. The words were these:
'Most noble knight, my lord Sir Lancelot du Lake, now hath death come to me, seeing that you would not give me your love. Yet do thou do this little thing I ask, now that I am dead, for I ask thee to pray for my soul and to bury me, and think of me sometimes. Pray for my soul and think of me, as thou art a knight peerless and most gentle.'
Sir Lancelot heard it word by word and went pale as ashes, so that men marvelled to see his sorrow. When it was finished, he said:
'My lord, King Arthur, wit ye well that I am right heavy for the death of this fair damsel. God knoweth that I was never causer of her death by my will, as her brother Sir Lavaine here will avouch for me. She was both fair and good, and exceeding kind to me when I was wounded; but she loved me out of all measure, and of that I was sore heavy.'
'Ye might have loved her,' said the queen, weeping for sorrow at the hapless fate of one so fair and fond.
'Madam,' said Sir Lancelot, 'I could not be constrained to love her, but I sorrow for her death exceedingly.'
'Truth it is,' said the king, 'that love is free and never will be forced, for all the prayers that may be said to it. But thou wilt of thy worship bury this fair maid, Sir Lancelot?'
'That will I do,' said the knight, 'and in all richness and solemnity.'