"as you are a great and noble King and a
valiant conqueror, and as this lady was wife to Sir Howel, who is your
own cousin, take pity on her and on all of us, and avenge us upon this
vile giant."

"Alas," King Arthur replied, "this is a grievous and an evil matter.
I would give all my kingdom to have been at hand, so that I might have
saved that fair lady."

Then he asked the husbandman whether he could show him the place where
the giant would be found, and the man said that was easy to do, for
there were always two fires burning outside the den he haunted. In
that den, the husbandman believed, was stored more treasure than the
whole realm of France contained.

Then the King took Sir Kay and Sir Bedivere apart privately into his
tent, and bade them secretly get ready their horses and armor, and his
own, for it was his intention that night, after evensong, to set out
on a pilgrimage to St. Michael's Mount with them, and nobody besides
them was to accompany him. So when evening came, the King, and Sir
Kay, and Sir Bedivere armed themselves, and taking their horses, rode
as fast as they could to the foot of St. Michael's Mount. There the
King alighted and bade his knights stay where they were, while he
himself ascended the mount.

He went up the hillside till he came to a huge fire. Close to it was a
newly made grave, by which was sitting a sorrowful widow wringing
her hands and making great lamentation. King Arthur saluted her
courteously, and asked for whom she was weeping. She prayed him to
speak softly, for "Yonder," said she, "is a monstrous giant that
will come and destroy you should your voice reach his ears. Luckless
wretch, what brings you to this mountain?" asked the widow. "Fifty
such knights as you could not hold their ground against the monster."

"Lady," he replied, "the mighty conqueror King Arthur has sent me
as his ambassador to this giant, to inquire why he ventures thus to
misuse and maltreat the people of the land."

"A useless embassy in very truth!" she said. "Little does he care for
King Arthur, or for any other man. Not many days have passed since
he murdered the fairest lady in the world, the wife of Sir Howel of
Little Britain; and had you brought with you King Arthur's own wife,
Queen Guinevere, he would not be afraid to murder her. Yet, if you
must needs speak with him, you will find him yonder over the crest of
the hill."

"This is a fearful warning you give me," said the King. "Yet n