'God speed you well,' said Sir Bedevere, and gave the king his spear.
Then the king ran towards Sir Mordred, crying:
'Traitor, prepare, now is thy death-day come!'
When Sir Mordred heard King Arthur he raised his head, then came towards the king with his sword in his hand.
And there, in the shadow of the great stone, King Arthur smote Sir Mordred under the shield, with so keen a stroke of his spear that it went through the body and out beyond. Sir Mordred, feeling that death was upon him, thrust himself along the spear almost to the butt thereof, nigh where King Arthur held it, and grasping his sword in both his hands, he struck his uncle on the side of the head, with so keen and fierce a blow that the sword pierced the helm and the skull.
With that stroke Sir Mordred fell stark dead to the earth, and the king sank in a swoon upon his body.
Then Sir Bedevere and Sir Lucan, who were both sore wounded and weakly, came up, and between them, with many rests upon the way, took the king to a little combe beside the waters, and there they took off his helm and bathed his wound and bound it. After which the king felt easier.
'We may do naught else with thee here, lord,' said Sir Lucan, 'and it were best that we got thee to some town.'
'It would be better so,' said the king, 'but I fear me I have my death-wound.'
When they had rested Sir Lucan tried to rise, so as to take up the king.