When Lancelot Left the Hermitage he rode on until he passed out of the forest and found before him a waste land, a land stretching far and wide where there dwelt neither beasts nor birds, for the earth was so poor and dry that there was no pasture to be found. Lancelot gazed far before him, and a city appeared to view; he rode on towards it at a swift pace, and found that the city was so huge that it stretched to every horizon. But he could see its walls crumbling round about, and the gates leaning with age. He rode inside to find the city deserted, its great palaces derelict and waste, its markets and exchanges empty, its vast graveyards full of tombs, its churches crumbling. Through the great streets he rode until he found a huge palace which seemed to be less ruined than the others. He drew rein before it, to hear knights and ladies lamenting bitterly and saying to a knight:

‘Oh God! What a shame and sorrow it is that you must go and die, and your death cannot be delayed!’

Lancelot heard all this but could see no-one. But just then the knight came down from the hall: he was young and handsome, and was dressed in a red coat girdled with a rich belt of silk and gold; a beautiful brooch was pinned at his neck clustered with precious stones; his head was crowned with a golden hat; and in his hands he clutched a huge axe. As he approached he said to Lancelot: ‘Dismount, sir.’

‘Gladly,’ said Lancelot, and he climbed down and tethered his horse to a silver ring set in the mounting-block. ‘What do you want, sir?’ he said to the knight.

‘Sir,’ came the reply, ‘you must cut off my head with this axe, for I’m condemned to death with this weapon; if not, I’ll cut off yours.’

‘By my life!’ cried Lancelot. ‘What are you saying?’

‘What you hear, sir,’ said the knight. ‘This you must do since you’ve come to the city.’

‘Sir,’ said Lancelot, ‘only a fool would fail to see how to get the better in this game! But it would be to my shame to kill you without cause.’

‘Truly,’ said the knight, ‘you cannot leave otherwise.’