Anon, as they passed by a certain castle, an armed knight suddenly came after them, and cried out to the damsel, “By the holy cross, ye shall not go till ye have yielded to the custom of the castle.”
“Let her go,” said Sir Percival, “for a maiden, wheresoever she cometh, is free.”
“Whatever maiden passeth here,” replied the knight, “must give a dishful of her blood from her right arm.”
“It is a foul and shameful custom,” cried Sir Galahad and both his fellows, “and sooner will we die than let this maiden yield thereto.”
“Then shall ye die,” replied the knight, and as he spake there came out from a gate hard by, ten or twelve more, and encountered with them, running upon them vehemently with a great cry. But the three knights withstood them, and set their hands to their swords, and beat them down and slew them.
At that came forth a company of threescore knights, all armed. “Fair lords,” said Sir Galahad, “have mercy on yourselves and keep from us.”
“Nay, fair lords,” they answered, “rather be advised by us, and yield ye to our custom.”
“It is an idle word,” said Galahad, “in vain ye speak it.”
“Well,” said they, “will ye die?”
“We be not come thereto as yet,” replied Sir Galahad.