aughter of many good knights and
barons and other brave men. Then King Arthur and his chief knights drew
forth their horses from the holds of the ships, and leaped with them
into the sea, and fiercely did they throw themselves upon Sir Mordred
and his knights, and there was grievous fighting on horseback in the
shallow water, which soon was dyed with the blood of the slain.

So stubborn were the king and his fighting men that the army of Mordred
was forced to retreat towards the land, and then, when the king and
Gawaine had trimmed their own ranks, order was given for one concerted
rush against the enemy. The other side showed little fight now, and
made no stand, but fled inland.

When the battle was over, King Arthur let bury his people that were
dead, so far as they could be discovered in the waves; and the wounded
he caused to be carried into the town of Dover to be cared for.

A squire came to the king as he stood giving orders as to these things.

'My lord king,' said the squire, 'Sir Gawaine lies sore wounded in a
boat, and we know not whether he be alive or dead.'

'Alas!' cried the king, and the knights about him were full of pity at
the sudden grief that came into his voice and his looks, 'is this true?
Then is all my joy of life at an end.'

The squire led him to the boat in which Sir Gawaine lay, who stirred as
the king approached, and feebly smiled.

'My uncle,' said Sir Gawaine, 'wit you well that now is my death-day
come, for I know I shall not last this bout. For I am smitten upon the
wound which Sir Lancelot gave me, and I feel that now I shall die.'

'Alas, my sister's son,' cried the king, taking Sir Gawaine in his arms
and kissing him, while the tears flowed down his cheeks, 'this is the
wofullest day of all my life. For if ye depart, Gawaine, how solitary
am I! Gawaine! Gawaine! in Sir Lancelot and in thee had I most my love
and my joy, and now shall I lose ye both, and all my earthly joy is
gone from me.'

'Alas,' said Sir Gawaine, 'sorrow's on me now that I have caused you
such grief, mine uncle. I see now that I have been mad with rage
against that noble knight, Sir Lancelot, who slew my dear brothers
unwittingly. And now I repent me sorely. I would that I could live to
repair the evil that I have done to you and to Sir Lancelot. But my
time is come. I shall not live till evening.'

They wept together, and the knights that stood about them also wept for
pure grief, to think how much sor