Then in a little while he swooned under the heat of the sun, from hunger and weakness, and lay half in and half out of the brook.
It befell that a widowed lady, to whom the brook and the land belonged, came walking in the fields with her maids. And one of them saw the figure of Sir Owen and, half fearful, she went up to him and found him faintly breathing.
The widow lady had him taken into the farmstead of one of her tenants, and there he was tended carefully until he came again to his senses. And with the good care, meat, drink, and medicaments, he soon began to thrive again.
He asked the man of the house who it was that had brought him there.
'It was our Lady of the Moors,' said the man sadly. 'And though she is herself in sore straits and narrowly bestead by a cruel and oppressive earl, who would rob her of these last few acres, yet she hath ever a tender heart for those in greater distress than herself.'
'It grieves me,' said Sir Owen, 'that the lady is oppressed by that felon earl. He should be hindered, and that sternly.'
'Ay,' said the man, 'he would cease his wrongful dealing if she would wed him, but she cannot abide the evil face of him.'
Ever and anon the Lady of the Moors sent one of her maidens to learn how the stranger was progressing, and the maiden came one day when Sir Owen was quite recovered, and she was greatly astounded to see how comely a man he was, and how straight and tall and knightly was his mien.
As they sat talking, there came the jingle and clatter of arms, and, looking forth, Sir Owen saw a large company of knights and men-at-arms pass down the road. And he inquired of the maiden who these were.
'That is the Earl Arfog and his company,' she said sadly. 'And he goeth, as is his wont, to visit my mistress, and to insult her, and to treat her unmannerly, and to threaten that he will drive her from the one remaining roof-tree she possesses. And so will he and his knights sit eating and drinking till night, and great will be my lady's sorrow that she hath no one to protect her.'