Perceval smiteth his horse of his spurs and cometh to the first in such
sort that he passeth his spear right through his body and beareth him
to the ground dead. The other two knights each smote his man so that
they wounded them in the body right sore. The other two would fain
have fled, but Perceval preventeth them, and they gave themselves up
prisoners for fear of death. He bringeth all four to the castle of
Camelot and presenteth them to his lady mother.
"Lady," saith he, "see here the quittance for your knight that was
slain, and the fifth also remaineth lying on the piece of ground shent
in like manner as was your own."
"Fair son," saith she, "I should have better loved peace after another
sort, and so it might be."
"Lady," saith he, "Thus is it now. One ought to make war against the
warrior, and be at peace with the peaceable."
The knights are put in prison. The tidings are come to the Lord of the
Moors that the son of the Widow Lady hath slain one of his knights and
carried off four to prison. Thereof hath he right great wrath at
heart, and sweareth and standeth to it that never will he be at rest
until he shall have either taken or slain him, and that, so there were
any knight in his land that would deliver him up, he would give him one
of the best castles in his country. The more part are keen to take
Perceval. Eight came for that intent before him all armed in the
forest of Camelot, and hunted and drove wild deer in the purlieus of
the forest so that they of the castle saw them.