'Nevertheless,' said the king, 'I pray you will make ready with your brothers, Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth, to take the queen to the fire, there to have her judgment and receive her death.'
'Nay, most noble lord,' replied the knight sadly, 'that will I never do. I will never stand by to see so noble a queen meet so shameful a death.'
'Then,' said the king sadly, 'suffer your brothers, Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris, to be there.'
'They are younger than I,' replied Sir Gawaine, 'and they may not say you nay.'
The king commanded the two brothers of Sir Gawaine to come to him, and told them what he desired of them.
'Sir,' said Sir Gareth, 'it is in your power to command us to lead the queen to her shameful end; but wit you well it is sore against our will. We will go as ye bid, but it shall be in peaceable guise, for we tell you straightway, we will not oppose a rescue, should any so desire.'
'Alas!' said Sir Gawaine, and wept, 'that ever I should live to see this woful day.'
Then the two knights went to the queen and sorrowfully bade her prepare for her death. Very pale was the queen, but very quiet, for now that this was come which she had dreaded night and day, she would bear herself proudly like a queen, innocent as she knew she was of any crime.
Her ladies dressed her in her meanest garments; a priest, her confessor, was brought to her, and she was shriven of her sins. Then arose a weeping and a wailing and a wringing of hands among the lords and ladies.
Between the knights and the men-at-arms she was led through the streets to the lists beyond the wall. Lamentation, cries of horror, and the shrieks and sighs of women arose from the multitude which lined each side of the narrow streets. Many were the prayers that rose from white lips, praying God to send a miracle to rescue so sweet a lady from so dreadful a doom.