Then he had him borne into the hermitage, and laid in bed, his armor being removed. This done, the hermit stanched the bleeding, anointed the wound with healing ointments, and gave Lancelot a refreshing and healing draught.
Meanwhile King Arthur invited the knights of both parties to a great evening feast, and there asked the king of North Wales to bring forward the knight of the red sleeve, that he might receive the prize he had won.
"That I cannot do," was the answer. "He was badly, if not fatally, wounded, and left us so hastily that we know not whither he went."
"That is the worst news I have heard these seven years," said Arthur. "I would rather lose my throne than have that noble knight slain."
"Do you know him?" they all asked.
"I have a shrewd suspicion who he is; and I pray God for good tidings of him."
"By my head," said Gawaine, "I should be sorry enough to see harm come to one that can handle spear and sword like him. He cannot be far away, and if he is to be found I shall find him."
"Fortune aid you in the quest," said the king.
Then Gawaine took a squire, and they rode in all directions for six or seven miles around Camelot, but could learn nothing of the missing knight. Two days afterwards Arthur and his fellowship set out on their return to London. On their way they passed through Astolat, and here it happened that Gawaine lodged with Sir Bernard, Lancelot's former host.
He was well received, and the old baron and his fair daughter begged him earnestly for tidings of the tournament, being specially eager to know who had done best there.