tram. "The tale of it makes my blood
run cold."

"And mine as well," said Gareth. "I can never love or respect my
brothers again for that ruthless deed."

"Yet to speak of it is useless," said Palamides. "His life is gone; we
cannot bring it back again."

"There lies the pity," said Dinadan. "No matter how good and noble a man
may be, when he stops breathing all else stops with him. By good luck,
though, the same rule holds with villains and cowards. As for Gawaine
and his brothers, except you, Sir Gareth, they hate the best knights of
the Round Table, and Lancelot and his kindred above all. Only that
Lancelot is well aware of this, they might draw him into as deadly a
trap as they drew poor Lamorak."

"Come, come, remember that Gareth is their brother," said Palamides.
"Let us change the subject. Here is this tournament,--what part shall we
play here? My advice is that we four hold together against all that may
assail us."

"That is not my counsel," said Tristram. "By their pavilions we may
count on some four hundred knights, and doubtless many of them worthy
ones. If we play the game of four against all comers we are likely to
find ourselves borne down by numbers. Many good knights have lost the
game by taking too great odds. Manhood is of little avail if it be not
tempered by wisdom. If you think it best we may try it, and see what we
can do in company, but, as a rule, I prefer to fight for my own hand."

As they thus talked they rode away from Lonazep, and in due time came to
the banks of the Humber, where they were surprised by a loud and
grievous cry that seemed full of doleful meaning. Looking over the
waters they saw approaching before the wind a vessel richly draped with
red silk. Not long had they waited when it came to the shore, at a point
close by where they stood.

Seeing this strange thing and hearing the doleful cries which came from
the vessel, the knights gave their horses in care of their squires, and
approached on foot, Tristram boarding the vessel. When he reached the
deck he saw there a bed with rich silken coverings, on which lay a dead
knight, armed save the head, which was crimsoned with blood. And through
great gaps in his armor deadly wounds could be seen.

"What means this?" said Tristram. "How came this knight by his death?"

As he spoke he saw that a letter lay in the dead knight's hand.

"Master mariners," he asked of those on board the vessel, "what does
this strange thing sig