'I shall endure you, sir, if God give me grace; but wit you well. Sir
Gawaine, I will never smite you to death.'

Many that before had hated Sir Lancelot were moved by these noble
words, and by the sight of his mercy; and they deemed that there was
hardly another man in all Christendom that would have shown such
nobility, save Sir Galahad and Sir Perceval, and they were dead.

So Sir Lancelot went into the city, and Sir Gawaine was borne into King
Arthur's tent and his wounds were cleaned and salved. Thus he lay for
three weeks, hard of mood and bitter in his hatred, and longing eagerly
to get well, so he might try again to slay Sir Lancelot. Meanwhile he
prayed the king to attack Sir Lancelot's walls, to try to draw him
forth, or to take the city by treachery.

But the king would do naught. He was sick for sorrow because of the war
that was between him and Sir Lancelot, and by reason of the wounds of
his nephew Sir Gawaine.

'Alas,' was ever his reply, 'neither you nor I, my nephew, will win
worship at these walls. For we make war for no reason, with as noble a
knight as ever drew breath, and one more merciful and courteous than
any that ever graced the court of any Christian king.'

'Nevertheless,' replied Sir Gawaine, raging at the king's love for Sir
Lancelot, 'neither his mercy nor courtesy would avail against my good
sword, once I could sink it in his treacherous heart.'

As soon as Sir Gawaine might walk and ride, he armed him at all points
and mounted a great courser, and with a long wide spear in his hand he
went spurring to the great gate of the town.

'Where art thou, Lancelot?' he cried in a fierce voice. 'Come thou
forth, traitor knight and recreant! I am here to revenge me on thy evil
body for thy treacherous slaughter of my twain brothers.'

All this language Sir Lancelot heard, and leaning from the tower he
thus spake:

'Sir Gawaine, it sorrows me that ye will not cease your foul speaking.
I know your might, and all that ye may do, and well ye wot ye may do me
great hurt or death.'

'Come down, then,' cried Sir Gawaine, 'for what my heart craves is to
slay thee. Thou didst get the better of me the other day, and I come
this day to get my revenge. And wit thee well I will lay thee as low as
thou didst lay me.'

'I will not keep ye waiting long,' said Sir Lancelot, 'for as ye charge
me of treachery ye shall have your hands full of me erelong, however
the battle between us may end.'

Then