Then Bevidere, heart-full of shame, hastened away, and took the sword, turning his eyes manfully away from its jewelled hilt. Binding the girdle around it, with all the might of his arm he hurled the blade far out over the waves. Then came a marvel. For as he followed the sword with his eyes, he saw a hand and arm rise above the waves to meet the blade. The hand caught it by the hilt, and brandished it thrice in the air, and then vanished with it into the water. Bevidere, much wondering, hurried back to the king, and told him what he had seen. "Now, Sir Bevidere, you have done as I bade you," said Arthur. "But much precious time have you lost. Help me hence, in God's name, for I fear that I have tarried over-long." Then Bevidere took the king on his back and bore him to the water-side, and lo! there he saw another strange thing. For close by the shore lay a little barge, which he had not seen before, and in it sat many fair ladies, among whom were three queens, who wore black hoods, and wept with bitter sorrow when they saw King Arthur. "Now help me into the barge," said the king. This Sir Bevidere did as gently as he could. And the three queens received the dying monarch with deep mourning, and had him laid between them, with his head on the lap of her who sat in the centre. "Alas! dear brother, why have you tarried so long from me?" said this queen. "Much harm I fear from this sad wound." And so they rowed from the land, while Bevidere stood on the shore sadly watching the barge go from him. "Ah, my lord Arthur," he cried, "what shall become of me, now that you go from me and leave me here alone among my enemies?" "Comfort thyself," said the king, "and do what thou mayest, for in me can no man henceforth put his trust. I go into the vale of Avilion, to a happy summer island far over the sea, where I shall be healed of my grievous wound. But when I shall come again no voice may tell. Mayhap I shall never come, but dwell forever in that sunny vale. If you never hear more of me, pray for my soul." Then again the queens and the ladies wept and moaned, and the barge moved swiftly over the long waves and afar to sea, while Bevidere stood and watched it till it became a black speck on the waters. Then it vanished and was seen no more, and the lonely watcher cast himself upon the beach, weeping like one who has lost all life's happiness. But when night came near he turned and went wearily away, heavy with the weight of death that lay upon his soul, for he alone remained of yesterday's mighty hosts. All that night he journeyed through a great forest, and in the morning he found himself between two hoary cliffs, with a chapel and a hermitage in the glen that lay between.