'Now, betide me death, betide me life,' said the king, 'now that I see him yonder I will slay the serpent, lest he live to work more havoc on this my poor kingdom.' 'God speed you well,' said Sir Bedevere, and gave the king his spear. Then the king ran towards Sir Mordred, crying: 'Traitor, prepare, now is thy death-day come!' When Sir Mordred heard King Arthur he raised his head, then came towards the king with his sword in his hand. And there, in the shadow of the great stone, King Arthur smote Sir Mordred under the shield, with so keen a stroke of his spear that it went through the body and out beyond. Sir Mordred, feeling that death was upon him, thrust himself along the spear almost to the butt thereof, nigh where King Arthur held it, and grasping his sword in both his hands, he struck his uncle on the side of the head, with so keen and fierce a blow that the sword pierced the helm and the skull. With that stroke Sir Mordred fell stark dead to the earth, and the king sank in a swoon upon his body. Then Sir Bedevere and Sir Lucan, who were both sore wounded and weakly, came up, and between them, with many rests upon the way, took the king to a little combe beside the waters, and there they took off his helm and bathed his wound and bound it. After which the king felt easier. 'We may do naught else with thee here, lord,' said Sir Lucan, 'and it were best that we got thee to some town.' 'It would be better so,' said the king, 'but I fear me I have my death-wound.' When they had rested Sir Lucan tried to rise, so as to take up the king. 'I may not rise,' he cried, his hands upon his head, 'my brain works so.' Nevertheless, the knight staggered to his feet and lifted up the feet of the king. But the effort was too much for him, and with a deathly groan he fell to the ground, and when he had twitched and struggled a little he lay dead. 'Alas,' said the king, 'this is to me a full heavy sight, to see this noble knight so die for my sake. He would not complain, so set was he to help me, and now his heart has broken.' Then Sir Bedevere went to his brother and kissed him, and closed his eyes. 'Now,' said the king, 'come hither to me, Bedevere, for my time goeth fast and I remember me of a promise. Therefore,' he bade Sir Bedevere, 'do thou take Excalibur, my good sword, and go with it beyond the combe side there where a low thorn grows, and when thou comest there, I charge thee, throw my sword in that water, and come again and tell me what thou seest.' So Sir Bedevere departed with the sword, and on the way he looked at the sword, and saw how noble was the blade and how shining, and how the pommel and haft were full of precious stones. 'If I throw this sword into the water,' said Sir Bedevere to himself, 'how great a sin 'twould be to waste so noble a weapon.' Therefore he hid it in the branches of the thorn and returned to the king. 'What sawest thou?' asked the king when Bedevere returned.