So six years passed and then, one night, Lancelot had a vision. It seemed to him that one said to him: “Lancelot, arise and go in haste to Almesbury. There shalt thou find Queen Guinevere dead and it shall be for thee to bury her.” Sir Lancelot arose at once and, calling his fellows to him, told them his dream. Immediately, with all haste, they set forth toward Almesbury and, arriving there the second day, found the Queen dead, as had been foretold in the vision. So with the state and ceremony befitting a great Queen, they buried her in the Abbey of Glastonbury, in that same church where, some say, King Arthur’s tomb is to be found. Lancelot it was who performed the funeral rites and chanted the requiem; but when all was done, he pined away, growing weaker daily. So at the end of six weeks, he called to him his fellows and, bidding them all farewell, desired that his dead body should be conveyed to the Joyous Garde, there to be buried, for that in the church at Glastonbury he was not worthy to lie. And that same night he died, and was buried, as he had desired, in his own castle. So passed from the world the bold Sir Lancelot du Lac, bravest, most courteous, and most gentle of knights, whose peer the world has never seen nor ever shall see. After Sir Lancelot’s death, Sir Bors and the pious knights, his companions, took their way to the Holy Land and there they died in battle against the Turk. So ends this story of King Arthur and his noble fellowship of the Round Table. NOTES AND QUESTIONS