“He brought but the one because there was but the one to bring. There exists none other but that one. It belongeth to the king of the Demons of the Sea. This man is a pretender, and ignorant, else he had known that that weapon can be used in but eight bouts only, and then it vanisheth away to its home under the sea.”
“Then is he weaponless,” said the king. “Sir Sagramore, ye will grant him leave to borrow.”
“And I will lend!” said Sir Launcelot, limping up. “He is as brave a knight of his hands as any that be on live, and he shall have mine.”
He put his hand on his sword to draw it, but Sir Sagramor said:
“Stay, it may not be. He shall fight with his own weapons; it was his privilege to choose them and bring them. If he has erred, on his head be it.”
“Knight!” said the king. “Thou’rt overwrought with passion; it disorders thy mind. Wouldst kill a naked man?”
“An he do it, he shall answer it to me,” said Sir Launcelot.
“I will answer it to any he that desireth!” retorted Sir Sagramor hotly.
Merlin broke in, rubbing his hands and smiling his lowdownest smile of malicious gratification: