"When this ship arrived in the realm of England," she said, "there was deadly war between King Labor and King Hurlame, who was a christened Saracen. Here they fought one day by the sea-side, and Hurlame was defeated and his men slain. Then he fled into this ship, drew the sword which he saw here, and with one stroke smote King Labor and his horse in twain. But a fatal stroke it proved, for with it there came harm and pestilence to all this realm. Neither corn nor grass would grow, fruit failed to ripen, the waters held no fish, and men named this the waste land of the two marches. Nor did King Hurlame escape. When he saw the strange carving of the sword, a craving came into his mind to possess the scabbard. Entering the ship for that purpose, he thrust the sword into the sheath; but no sooner had he done so than he fell dead beside the bed. And there his body lay till a maiden entered the ship and cast it out, for no man could be found hardy enough to set foot on that fatal deck." The three knights on hearing this looked earnestly at the scabbard, which seemed to them made of serpent's skin, while on it was writing in letters of gold and silver. But the girdle was poor and mean, and ill suited to so rich a sword. The writing was to this effect: "He who shall wield me must be hardy of nature. Nor shall he ever be shamed while he is girt with this girdle; which must never be put away except by the hands of a maiden and a king's daughter. And she, if she shall ever cease to be a maid, shall die the most villanous death that woman ever endured." "Turn the sword," said Percivale, "that we may see what is on the other side." On doing so they found it red as blood, with coal-black letters, which said: "He that shall praise me most shall find me most to fail him in time of great need; and to whom I should be most fair shall I prove most foul. Thus is it ordained." Then Percivale's sister told them the history of the sword, which was a very strange and admirable thing to hear. More than once had it been drawn in modern times; once by Nancien, who afterwards became a hermit, and in whose hands the sword fell in half, and sorely wounded him in the foot. Afterwards it was drawn by King Pellam, and it was for this boldness that he was destined to be deeply wounded by the spear with which Balin afterwards struck him. The knights now observed the bed more closely, and saw that above its head there hung two swords. With them were three strange spindles, one of which was white as snow, one red as blood, and one as green as emerald. As they gazed at them with curious wonder, the damsel told a strange story of the surprising things they had gazed upon. And thus her story ran.