Layamon tells many wonderful stories of Arthur, from the time he was born to his last great battle in which he was killed, fighting against the rebel Modred. This is how Layamon tells the story of Arthur's death, or rather of his "passing": "Arthur went to Cornwall with a great army. Modred heard that and he against him came With unnumbered folk. There were many of them fated. Upon the Tambre they came together, The place was called Camelford, evermore has that name lasted. And at Camelford were gathered sixty thousand And more thousands thereto. Modred was their chief. Then hitherward gan ride Arthur the mighty With numberless folk fated though they were. Upon the Tambre they came together, Drew their long swords, smote on the helmets, So that fire sprang forth. Spears were splintered, Shields gan shatter, shafts to break. They fought all together folk unnumbered. Tambre was in flood with unmeasured blood. No man in the fight might any warrior know, Nor who did worse nor who did better so was the conflict mingled, For each slew downright were he swain were he knight. There was Modred slain and robbed of his life day. In the fight There were slain all the brave Arthur's warriors noble. And the Britons all of Arthur's board, And all his lieges of many a kingdom. And Arthur sore wounded with war spear broad. Fifteen he had fearful wounds. One might in the least two gloves thrust. Then was there no more in the fight on life Of two hundred thousand men that there lay hewed in pieces But Arthur the king alone, and of his knights twain. But Arthur was sore wounded wonderously much. Then to him came a knave who was of his kindred. He was Cador's son the earl of Cornwall. Constantine hight the knave. He was to the king dear. Arthur him looked on where he lay on the field, And these words said with sorrowful heart. Constantine thou art welcome thou wert Cador's son, I give thee here my kingdom. Guard thou my Britons so long as thou livest, And hold them all the laws that have in my days stood And all the good laws that in Uther's days stood. And I will fare to Avelon to the fairest of all maidens To Argente their Queen, an elf very fair, And she shall my wounds make all sound All whole me make with healing draughts, And afterwards I will come again to my kingdom And dwell with the Britons with mickle joy.