ed would do much to cause some ill to Gawaine or Sir
Lancelot, so long as his own evil body was not hurt.'

'Sad it is,' said Brastias full gloomily, 'to think a man of such great
kin should harbour hatred and murder against the chief of his kin. And
that such should be, methinks, betokens that evil is about to fall upon
our famous brotherhood of the Round Table, and on this dear land of
Britain.'

Now it befell that the poor queen had heard, through her maidens, of
the rumours concerning herself and Sir Lancelot, and, taking counsel of
no one, she bethought how she could prove to the remnant of the Round
Table that she was free of any plots against the king or the fair
kingdom of Britain.

She resolved that she would invite the knights to a privy dinner, and
when they had eaten she would throw herself upon their knightly pity
and honour, telling them how the evil rumours wronged and hurt her
bitterly. And she doubted not that thus their manly sympathy and
worship of her, their queen, would, by her words, cast out the evil
effects of the slanderous tales.

Therefore, at that dinner, she had Sir Gawaine and his brethren, that
is to say, Sir Gareth, Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris and Sir Mordred. Also
there were the kin of Sir Lancelot, to wit, Sir Bors, Sir Blamore, Sir
Bleobaris, Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Lionel. But Sir Lancelot had
gone into the Scottish marches, to do battle with a notable robber and
oppressor there. There were other knights, making in all the number of
twenty-four. And these were all the remnant of the one hundred and
fifty that had gone forth in the Quest of the Sangreal.

Among the guests were Sir Pinel and his cousin, Sir Mador.

Now Sir Gawaine had a custom of eating apples which he used daily at
dinner and at supper. He loved all manner of fruit, and in especial a
certain brown or russet apple, which was called Afal Coch. Every one
knew of this fondness of Sir Gawaine's, and whoever dined or feasted
him took care to provide such apples for his pleasure.

The queen had known this, and among the fruit for the table she had
ordered such apples to be placed.

Now Sir Mordred, as Sir Gareth had suspected, hated Sir Gawaine with a
deep hatred, and therefore he had, by crafty dealing, taken all the
russet apples from the dish except one, and into this he had thrust a
deadly poison. He guessed that, as every one knew of Sir Gawaine's
fondness for that sort of fruit, no one would take it, but wou