ore the chapel and ran into
the valley with a great rushing; and each of the houses had its own
orchard, and the orchard an enclosure. Lancelot heareth vespers being
chanted in the chapel, and seeth the path that turned thitherward, but
the mountain is so rugged that he could not go along it on horseback.
So he alighteth and leadeth his horse after him by the reins until he
cometh nigh the chapel.

XI.

There were three hermits therewithin that had sung their vespers, and
came over against Lancelot. They bowed their heads to him and he
saluted them, and then asked of them what place was this? And they told
him that the place there was Avalon. They make stable his horse. He
left his arms without the chapel and entereth therein, and saith that
never hath he seen none so fair nor so rich. There were within three
other places, right fair and seemly dight of rich cloths of silk and
rich corners and fringes of gold. He seeth the images and the
crucifixes all newly fashioned, and the chapel illumined of rich
colours; and moreover in the midst thereof were two coffins, one
against the other, and at the four corners four tall wax tapers
burning, that were right rich, in four right rich candlesticks. The
coffins were covered with two pails, and there were clerks that chanted
psalms in turn on the one side and the other.

"Sir," saith Lancelot to one of the hermits, "For whom were these
coffins made?"

"For King Arthur and Queen Guenievre."

"King Arthur is not yet dead," saith Lancelot.

"No, in truth, please God! but the body of the Queen lieth in the
coffin before us and in the other is the head of her son, until such
time as the King shall be ended, unto whom God grant long life! But
the Queen bade at her death that his body should be set beside her own
when he shall end. Hereof have we the letters and her seal in this
chapel, and this place made she be builded new on this wise or ever she
died."

XI.

When Lancelot heareth that it is the Queen that lieth in the coffin, he
is so straitened in his heart and in his speech that never a word may
he say. But no semblant of grief durst he make other than such as
might not be perceived, and right great comfort to him was it that
there was an image of Our Lady at the head of the coffin. He knelt
down the nighest he might to the coffin, as it had been to worship the
image, and set his race and his mouth to the stone of the coffin, and
sorroweth for her right