m again within a year of such
time as he shall choose to summon him: this is no trial to Lancelot.
When peace is made, all the people press about, and it is decided
that the battle shall be fought at the court of King Arthur, who holds
Britain and Cornwall in his sway: there they decide that it shall be.
And the Queen has to consent, and Lancelot has to promise, that if
Meleagant can prove him recreant, she shall come back with him again
without the interference of any one. When the Queen and Lancelot had
both agreed to this, the arrangement was concluded, and they both
retired and removed their arms. Now the custom in the country was that
when one issued forth, all the others might do so too. All called down
blessings upon Lancelot: and you may know that he must have felt great
joy, as in truth he did. All the strangers assemble and rejoice over
Lancelot, speaking so as to be heard by him: "Sire, in truth we were
joyful as soon as we heard your name, for we felt sure at once that we
should all be set free." There was a great crowd present at this glad
scene, as each one strives and presses forward to touch him if possible.
Any one who succeeded in touching him was more delighted than he could
tell. There was plenty of joy, and of sorrow too; those who were now set
free rejoiced unrestrainedly; but Meleagant and his followers have not
anything they want, but are pensive, gloomy, and downcast. The king
turns away from the list, taking with him Lancelot, who begs him to take
him to the Queen. "I shall not fail to do so," the king replies; "for it
seems to me the proper thing to do. And if you like, I will show you Kay
the seneschal." At this Lancelot is so glad that he almost falls at his
feet. Then the king took him at once into the hall, where the Queen had
come to wait for him.

(Vv. 3955-4030.) When the Queen saw the king holding Lancelot by the
hand, she rose before the king, but she looked displeased with clouded
brow, and she spoke not a word. "Lady, here is Lancelot come to see
you," says the king; "you ought to be pleased and satisfied." "I, sire?
He cannot please me. I care nothing about seeing him." "Come now, lady,"
says the king who was very frank and courteous, "what induces you to
act like this? You are too scornful toward a man who has served you so
faithfully that he has repeatedly exposed his life to mortal danger on
this journey for your sake, and who has defended and rescued you from my
son Meleagant w