“Alas!” cried Sir Lancelot, “that ever any knight should die weaponless!” And looking overhead, he saw a great bough without leaves, and wrenched it off the tree, and suddenly leaped down. Then Sir Phelot struck at him eagerly, thinking to have slain him, but Sir Lancelot put aside the stroke with the bough, and therewith smote him on the side of the head, till he fell swooning to the ground. And tearing his sword from out his hands, he shore his neck through from the body. Then did the lady shriek dismally, and swooned as though she would die. But Sir Lancelot put on his armour, and with haste took his horse and departed thence, thanking God he had escaped that peril.
And as he rode through a valley, among many wild ways, he saw a knight, with a drawn sword, chasing a lady to slay her. And seeing Sir Lancelot, she cried and prayed to him to come and rescue her.
At that he went up, saying, “Fie on thee, knight! why wilt thou slay this lady? Thou doest shame to thyself and all knights.”
“What hast thou to do between me and my wife?” replied the knight. “I will slay her in spite of thee.”
“Thou shall not harm her,” said Sir Lancelot, “till we have first fought together.”
“Sir,” answered the knight, “thou doest ill, for this lady hath betrayed me.”
“He speaketh falsely,” said the lady, “for he is jealous of me without cause, as I shall answer before Heaven; but as thou art named the most worshipful knight in the world, I pray thee of thy true knighthood to save me, for he is without mercy.”
“Be of good cheer,” said Sir Lancelot; “it shall not lie within his power to harm thee.”
“Sir,” said the knight, “I will be ruled as ye will have me.”
So Sir Lancelot rode between the knight and the lady. And when they had ridden awhile, the knight cried out suddenly to Sir Lancelot to turn and see what men they were who came riding after them; and while Sir Lancelot, thinking not of treason, turned to look, the knight, with one great stroke, smote off the lady’s head.