The Lord of the Moors waxed wroth. He held a sword in his hand and
thrust him therewith through the body and slew him. The knight was
borne dead to the castle of Camelot before the Widow Lady and her son.
"Fair son," saith the Widow Lady, "More presents of such-like kind the
Lord of the Moors sendeth me than I would. Never may he be satisfied
of harming my land and shedding the blood of the bodies of my knights.
Now may you well know how many a hurt he hath done me sithence that
your father hath been dead and you were no longer at the castle, sith
that this hath he done me even now that you are here. You have the
name of Perceval on this account, that tofore you were born, he had
begun to reave your father of the Valleys of Camelot, for your father
was an old knight and all his brethren were dead, and therefore he gave
you this name in baptism, for that he would remind you of the mischief
done to him and to you, and that you might help to retrieve it and you
should have the power."
The Dame maketh shroud the knight, for whom she is full sorrowful, and
on the morrow hath mass sung and burieth him. Perceval made arm two of
the old knights with him, then issued forth of the castle and entered
the great dark forest. He rode until he came before a castle, and met
five knights that issued forth all armed. He asked whose men they
were. They answer, the Lord's of the Moors, and that he goeth seek the
son of the Widow Lady that is in the forest.
"If we may deliver him up to our lord, good guerdon shal we have
thereof."
"By my faith," saith Perceval, "You have not far to seek. I am here!"