Sadly was his coming needed, for imminent was the peril of the queen. At the place fixed for the combat knights and lords had early gathered, and Meliagrance, feeling sure that Lancelot could not appear to do battle, put on a haughty mien, and loudly demanded justice, or the combat. Yet the hour appointed came and passed, and the queen's champion had not appeared; while the king and all the court grew full of pain and dread as the fatal moments went by. The laws were strict, and could not be set aside for queen or commoner. Guenever must perish at the stake, or be saved by a champion's sword and spear. Therefore, as the minutes slowly grew into hours, and nothing of Lancelot was seen, while Meliagrance more loudly demanded justice or a champion, all hearts sank deep in despair.
"My lord the king," cried Lavaine, at length, "some sad misfortune has happened to Sir Lancelot. Never did he fail to appear to do battle unless he were sick or in prison. I beseech you, therefore, give me leave this day to do battle for him, and to strike a knightly blow for my lady the queen."
"Thanks, gentle knight," said the king. "I dare avow that the charge which Meliagrance lays upon the queen is a false one, for of these ten wounded knights who were present, there is not one but would gladly do battle to prove its falsity were he able to wear armor."
"That shall I do in the service of my lord Lancelot," said Lavaine, "if you will give me leave."
"Full leave you have," answered the king. "I pray you do your best; for it seems sure that some treachery has been done to the noble Lancelot."
Lavaine now armed in all haste, and, mounting his war-courser, rode into the lists, where he faced Meliagrance, challenging him to do battle to the death.
The two champions couched their spears, clutched their bridles, and were about to plunge the spurs into their horses' flanks, when the sound of hoofs was heard without, and an armed knight came galloping at furious speed into the lists.
"Raise your spears, sir knights, this quarrel is mine," said the new-comer. "You have my thanks, Lavaine, but only I must fight in this cause."
Then he rode to the king, lifted his visor, and showed the noble face of Lancelot, now hot with indignation.
