[_The_ NOVICES _go out, leaving_ GUENEVERE _and_ LYNNED _facing each other._ GUENEVERE There’s tidings on your face. The King is dead! LYNNED The King is dead. The flower of Kings is fallen. (_A pause._) Lucan is dead, Pelleas and Sagramore, Lamorak, Meliot, Pellenore, Ozanna; That famous fellowship of knights is dust. GUENEVERE Who shall let leap his bright sword in the air? In what cause? There is no cause any more. What tidings brought Sir Bedivere? Tell all. LYNNED The rebel power is broken, and he that raised it Dead. Woe on us that the King died with him! Upon a field all mounded with the slain, The bloodiest harvest Time did ever reap, He and the traitor Mordred met their last And smote each other, even to the death. From a seashore that seemed the end of earth (So tells Sir Bedivere, like a ghost himself) Men fled into the tumble of the tides And the waves choked them falling; the salt spray Stung them: but “Never saw I fire,” said he, “Of such an indignation fill the King Seeking for Mordred. At the last he spied him Among the heaped dead, leaning on his sword, And cried aloud and smote him; and that traitor, Even as he gasped his bitter soul out, struck On our anointed.” GUENEVERE Arthur, Arthur! LYNNED Yet Not there he died, though hurt to death: in his arms Sir Bedivere upbore him to a mere Deep in the hills. There the King bade him ride To Amesbury--ride swift and tell the Queen, How, ere he died, he had sent words of love, Of old, long love to Launcelot overseas; With his life’s blood his secret heart gushed out In love for Launcelot and his Queen. With that Sir Bedivere departed; but so loth That soon he came again, and lo! the King Was no more there, but in the place was sound He knew not whether of water or in the air, A music new to mortals, and the smell As of flowers floating through the dark, as if The passing of that spirit sweetened earth. And he remembered how it was foretold That three sad Queens should fetch King Arthur home Across the water of Avalon to his rest. (_A chant is faintly heard in the distance during this last speech._) GUENEVERE I am the cost. They are fallen, those famous ones Who made this kingdom glorious, they are fallen About their King; they have yielded up their strength And beauty and valour. (_The convent bell begins to toll._) The grieving bell begins, As if it were the mouth and voice of Death Emptying the earth of honour and renown. I was the cost of all. LYNNED