Still a little in front, Enid rode silently on, and Geraint followed, but he had been wounded in the fight with the Earl, though he did not tell Enid. And the wound bled inside his armour, till Geraint felt very faint, and suddenly everything seemed black in front of him. He reeled and fell from his horse on to a bank of grass.
Enid heard the crash of his armour as he fell, and in a moment she was beside him. She unbuckled the armour and took off his helmet Then she took her veil of faded silk and bound up his wound. But Geraint lay quite still.
Enid’s horse wandered into a forest and was lost, but Geraint’s noble war-horse kept watch with Enid, as if he understood.
About noon, the Earl, in whose country they now were, passed along with his followers. He saw the two by the wayside, and shouted to Enid, ‘Is he dead?’
‘No, no, not dead; he cannot be dead. Let him be carried out of the sun,’ she entreated.
And Enid’s great sorrow, and her great beauty, made the Earl a little less rough, and he told his men to carry Geraint to the hall. ‘His charger is a noble one, bring it too,’ shouted the Earl.
His men unwillingly carried Geraint to the hall, and laid him down on a stretcher there, and left him.
Enid bent over him, chafing his cold hands, and calling him to come back to her.
After a long time Geraint opened his eyes. He saw Enid tenderly watching him, and he felt Enid’s tears dropping on his face. ‘She weeps for me,’ he thought; but he did not move, but lay there as if he were dead.
In the evening the Earl came into the great hall and called for dinner, and many knights and ladies sat down with him, but no one remembered Enid. But when the Earl had finished eating and drinking, his eye fell on her. He remembered how she had wept for her wounded lord in the morning.