"If I fail, you shall try to bear it," said the king. And Galahad was glad, for he had still no shield of his own.
Then a monk took the king and the young knight behind the altar, and showed them where the shield hung. It was as white as snow, but in the middle there was a red cross.
"The shield can be borne only by the worthiest knight in the world," the monk warned the king.
"I will try to bear it, though I am no worthy knight," insisted the king; and he took the shield and rode down into the valley.
And Galahad waited at the abbey, for the king had said he would send his squire to tell the young knight how the shield had protected him.
For two miles the king rode through the valley, till he reached a hermitage. And he saw a warrior there, dressed in white armor, and sitting on a white horse.
The warrior rode quickly towards the king, and struck him so hard that he broke his armor. Then he thrust his spear through the king's right shoulder, as though he held no shield.
"The shield can be borne only by a peerless knight. It does not belong to you," said the warrior, as he gave it to the squire, telling him to carry it back to the abbey and to give it to Sir Galahad with his greeting.
"Then tell me your name," said the squire.
"I will tell neither you nor any one on earth," said the warrior. And he disappeared, and the squire saw him no more.