Suddenly the king came to himself, and, standing still, looked upon the field. In the morning it had been but a bare hillside of hungry, stunted grass, through which the stones showed grey and sallow, like ancient bones. Now, in the low light of the sinking orb, it was red—red, with the pallid faces of the dead stained a lighter red in the rays of the sun. Here and there bands still fought together, cries of fury rose, and the groans of the dying mingled with them.
'Alas!' cried the king, and looked behind him, 'where are all my noble knights?'
There were but two with him now, Lucan and his brother Bedevere.
'Where is Owen, and Kay?' he asked.
'Alas, lord,' said Bedevere, 'Sir Owen got his death-wound by the thorn where we fought those five knights but now, and Sir Kay suddenly fell as he walked. And when I knelt to speak to him, I found him dead.'
'Alas,' said the king, 'that ever I should see this doleful day, for now is my end come. But would to Heaven that I wist where is that traitor Mordred, that hath caused all this sorrow and ruin.'
Then, as he spoke, he looked towards the east, and saw where, by a tall standing-stone, a man leaned as if spent with a wound. And he was aware that this was Mordred.
'Now give me my spear,' said the king to Sir Lucan, 'for yonder is the traitor, and he shall not escape me.'
'Lord,' said Sir Lucan in a weak voice, 'let him bide, for he hath none with him, while we three are still alive.'
'Now, betide me death, betide me life,' said the king, 'now that I see him yonder I will slay the serpent, lest he live to work more havoc on this my poor kingdom.'