A young lady who was the lover of the slain knight came in, crying aloud like a madwoman and brandishing a spear in her two hands. With all her strength she struck Lancelot between the shoulders, tearing his hauberk and sinking the spear so far into his flesh that red blood spurted out and ran all the way down his back.

When Lancelot felt the blow, he leapt way up and grasped his sword; but when he saw that it was a woman he was shocked and put the sword back into its scabbard. Meanwhile, she was swearing by everything she could swear by that no one could stop her from killing him, or else he would kill her, "because I don't want to live on after the creature I loved most in life, whom you killed like the faithless scoundrel you are!"

"So help me God, my lady," he said, "no worthy young lady should have loved him, for he was the most cowardly and craven knight that I had ever yet seen, however tall and handsome he was!"

At those words, she was so stung that she almost went out of her mind. She sprang toward him, but he jumped aside, then caught her in his arms and pulled the spear from her hands.

The Vulgate Cycle.