“Ah, Geraint,” he cried, “art thou here?”
“I am not Geraint,” said the knight, who, what with the pain of his wounds and the agony of his mind, divided between jealousy of Enid and sorrow and love, was well-nigh out of his wits.
“Geraint thou art, I know well,” answered Gawaine, “and a wretched and insane expedition is this.” Then he looked round, and saw Enid, and welcomed her gladly. Again he entreated Geraint to come to the king.
“I will not,” he answered; “for I am not in a fit state to see any one.”
So Gawaine contrived that King Arthur should be brought to the place; and when he came, he commanded that Geraint should not be allowed to go forth till he was healed, and committed him to the charge of his physicians. A whole month they abode in that place; and Queen Guenever took charge of Enid, and tended her lovingly. But ever Enid was sorrowful, for still she knew not why her lord had so utterly changed to her; and as for him, though his body was healed, he remained sad and silent.
At last Geraint went to the king, saying that he was whole, and asked leave again to go forth, which Arthur unwillingly granted. So he and Enid once more set out, and Geraint desired her to ride before him, as she had formerly done. As they journeyed along the road, they heard loud wailing; and there, in an open glade of the wood, they saw a lady, young and fair, standing by a dead knight.
“What hath befallen thee, lady?” asked Geraint.
“Sir,” she answered weeping, “I was journeying here with my beloved husband, when there came upon us three giants, and without any provocation they slew him.”
“Which way went they hence?” said Geraint. She pointed out the way, and he bade Enid stay with the lady, and rode after the giants. Presently he overtook them. Each was as great in stature as three men, and carried in his hand a huge club. Geraint rushed upon them, and thrust his lance through the body of one, then drew it forth and slew another in the same way. But the third turned upon him, and struck him with his dub, so that the blow crushed his shoulder, and opened all his wounds anew. Then Geraint drew his sword, and smote the giant so fiercely on the crown of the head that it was split down to his shoulders, and he fell dead in that place. So Geraint left him thus, and returned to Enid; and as soon as he came to her he sank down at her feet as though he were dead. Then Enid uttered a cry, piercing and loud and thrilling; and it chanced that a wild earl called Limours, with a great company, was travelling on the highroad, and he heard the cry, and turned aside to see what was the cause of it. The earl said to Enid, “Fair lady, what hath befallen thee?”
“Alas!” she answered, “the only man I ever loved, or shall love, is slain.”