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you, O knight, whoever you are."
    The stranger removed the hood from his head. King Arthur stared for a long moment at the bushy-bearded face, then smiled. "Lancelot," he said.
    ***
    At a great feast that night, Sir Kay, who had arrived at court shortly after Sir Lancelot, explained. "When Lancelot left last year, I followed him part of the way. I didn't want to lose my friend entirely. Then, when Sir Mador called for the trial by combat, I realized that there was only one knight who could defend the queen. After all, Lancelot had retired, so he wasn't from the king's court anymore."

    "And so you went and found him," said the king.
    "Not exactly, Sire," Sir Kay said. "If I'd found him, I would have lent him my own armor and sword. We're the same size, you know. Instead, what I found was an old hermit named Brastias who thought he knew where he was."
    Then Sir Lancelot took up the tale. "Brastias had promised me that he would tell no one where I was, so instead of giving me away to Kay, he came himself and told me about the trial. I threw together some rough armor and left at once."
    King Arthur smiled. "And we are glad that you did." Then his face grew solemn. "And now what? Will you leave us again?"

    Slowly Sir Lancelot shook his head. "No, Sire. I have learned something about myself. I am supposed to be a knight. Not a knight who wins tournaments, not a knight who delights the ladies, not a knight in shining armor—just a knight who helps the helpless and defends the weak. With your permission, I would like to rejoin your Round Table."

    King Arthur gave his permission, of course, and that was how Sir Lancelot returned to Camelot, where he remained the rest of his life, faithfully defending the defenseless, even when it interfered with his afternoon naps. He no longer competed in tournaments, and although he never again put on his armor of twigs, he adopted a new suit of armor that was so plain that as the years passed younger knights would shake their heads at his careless appearance. Sometimes they would even laughingly call him "Sir Lancelot the Shabby."

    But to the storytellers—and, even more, to King Arthur, Queen Guinevere, and Sir Kay—he would always and forever be Sir Lancelot the Great.