“Sir,” said the monk, “no knight ought to hang this shield about his neck, unless he be the worthiest in the world, therefore I counsel you to be well-advised.”
“Well,” said Sir Badgemagus, “I know I am not the worthiest knight in the world, yet I shall attempt to wear it.”
He then took the shield and said to Sir Galahad, “If it please you, I pray you remain here, till you know how I succeed.”
“I shall await you here,” said he.
After riding two miles, Sir Badgemagus and his squire came to a hermit’s house, from which a goodly knight rode forth to meet him. This knight was in white armor, horse and all, and he came as fast as his horse might run, with his spear in rest. Sir Badgemagus ran against him with such violence that he broke his spear upon the white knight’s shield; but the other struck him so hard that he broke his armor, pierced him through the shoulder and threw him from his horse.
With that the white knight alighted and took the white shield from him, saying, “Knight, thou hast done a foolish act, for this shield ought not be borne save by one that shall have no equal.”
Then he said to the wounded knight’s squire, “Bear this shield to the good knight, Sir Galahad, and greet him well for me.”
“Sir,” said the squire, “what is your name?”
“Take no heed of my name,” said the white knight; “it is not for you to know, nor any earthly man.”
“Now, fair sir,” said the squire, “tell me why this shield cannot be borne without injury to the bearer.”