"I will take the wounded King to an abbey, that his wounds may be dressed," thought the squire.
And with great difficulty the King and his squire reached an abbey. And the monks thought his life could not be saved, but after many days he was cured.
Then the squire rode back to the abbey where Galahad waited. "The warrior who wounded the King bids you bear this shield," he said.
Galahad hung the shield round his neck joyfully, and rode into the valley to seek the warrior dressed in white.
And when they met they saluted each other courteously. And the warrior told Sir Galahad strange tales of the white shield, till the knight thanked God that now it was his. And all his life long the white shield with the red cross was one of his great treasures.
Now Galahad rode back to the abbey, and the monks were glad to see him again. "We have need of a pure knight," they said, as they took Sir Galahad to a tomb in the churchyard.
A pitiful noise was heard, and a voice from the tomb cried, "Galahad, servant of God, do not come near me." But the young knight went towards the tomb and raised the stone.
Then a thick smoke was seen, and through the smoke a figure uglier than any man leaped from the tomb, shouting, "Angels are round thee, Galahad, servant of God. I can do you no harm."
The knight stooped down and saw a body all dressed in armor lying there, and a sword lay by its side.
"This was a false knight," said Sir Galahad. "Let us carry his body away from this place."