'I will do no more than I have done, my lord,' said Sir Lancelot, 'and when thou art able to stand I will meet thee again. But to smite a wounded man that may not stand, I will not.'
Then Sir Lancelot withdrew to the town, while Sir Gawaine still raved and abused him, and men marvelled both at the exceeding madness of the hatred of Sir Gawaine and the great restraint and nobleness of Lancelot. Many said that had Sir Gawaine said half as many shameful things to one of them, they would have instantly rased his evil head from his shoulders.
For a month Sir Gawaine lay sick, but was always eager to be up and able again. And at length the leech said that in three days he should ride, whereat Sir Gawaine was joyful.
'Again,' said he to King Arthur, who sat beside him, 'again shall I have to do with that base fellow, and ill attend me if I do not end the matter this time.'
'Ye had ended it long ago, or been ended,' said the king, 'except for the nobleness of Sir Lancelot that forbore to slay you.'
'Ay, we all know your love of the pestilent fool, uncle,' said Sir Gawaine, 'but we will stay here until we have made an end of him and his kingdom, if it take us all our lives.'
Even as he spoke there came the clear call of a trumpet outside in the camp, and Sir Bedevere came to the door of the king's tent, his grim old face pale, his grizzled hair unkempt, and every sign of haste and travel upon his dress.
The king started up. 'Sir Bedevere, ye bring evil tidings from Britain,' he cried. 'Can it be that more ruin and wrong is to come than that I suffer now? What is your news?'
'O my king, it is that Mordred your nephew hath rebelled,' said Sir Bedevere, 'and has gathered much people about him, and hath sent many letters to all the lords and knights your vassals, promising them wealth and lands if they make him king. And Gwenevere your queen he hath imprisoned, saying that he will wed her when ye are slain.'
'Mordred! Mordred!' cried the king, 'him that I thought was a quiet, strong man—turned so base a traitor!'