"Whether I die or live," said the King, "he shall not escape." And seizing his spear he ran to Sir Modred, crying, "Now you shall die."
And Arthur smote him under the shield, and the spear passed through his body, and he died.
Then, wounded and exhausted, the King fainted, and his knights lifted him and took him to a little chapel not far from a lake.
As the King lay there, he heard cries of fear and pain from the distant battle-field.
"What causes these cries?" said the King wearily. And to soothe the sick King, Sir Lucan said he would go to see.
And when he reached the battle-field, he saw in the moon-*light that robbers were on the field stooping over the slain, and taking from them their rings and their gold. And those that were only wounded, the robbers slew, that they might take their jewels too.
Sir Lucan hastened back, and told the King what he had seen.
"We will carry you farther off, lest the robbers find us here," said the knights. And Sir Lucan lifted the King on one side and Sir Bedivere lifted him on the other.
But Sir Lucan had been wounded in the battle, and as he lifted the King he fell back and died.