“Is that the truth?” said Sir Lancelot. “Then shall ye abide with me still a little while, until that I be whole, for I feel myself right big and strong.”
Then were they together nigh a month and ever this maiden Elaine did her diligent labor for Sir Lancelot, so that there never was a child or wife meeker to her father or husband, than was that fair maiden of Astolat; wherefore Sir Bors was greatly pleased with her.
So upon a day, Sir Lancelot thought to try his armor and his spear. And so when he was upon his horse, he stirred him fiercely, and the horse was passing strong and fresh, because he had not been labored for a month. And then Sir Lancelot couched that spear in the rest. That courser leaped mightily when he felt the spurs and he that was upon him, the which was the noblest horse in the world, strained him mightily and kept still the spear in the rest and therewith Sir Lancelot strained himself with so great force, to get the horse forward that the wound opened and he felt himself so feeble, that he might not sit upon his horse.
And then Sir Lancelot cried unto Sir Bors, “Ah, Sir Bors and Sir Lavaine, help me, for I am come to my end.” And therewith he fell down to the earth as if he were dead.
And then Sir Bors and Sir Lavaine came to him with sorrow. Then came the holy hermit, Sir Baudwin of Brittany, and when he found Sir Lancelot in that plight, he said but little, but know ye well that he was wroth; and then he bade them, “Let us have him in.”
And so they all bare him into the hermitage and unarmed him and laid him in his bed and evermore his wound bled piteously, but he stirred no limb. Then the knight hermit put a little water in his mouth and Sir Lancelot waked of his swoon and then the hermit stanched his bleeding.
And when he might speak he asked Sir Lancelot why he put his life in jeopardy.
“Sir,” said Sir Lancelot, “because I thought I had been strong and also Sir Bors told me that there should be great jousts betwixt King Arthur and the King of Northgalis and therefore I thought to try it myself, whether I might be there or not.”
“Ah, Sir Lancelot,” said the hermit, “your heart and your courage will never be done, until your last day, but ye shall do now by my counsel. Let Sir Bors depart from you and let him do at that tournament what he may. And by the grace of God, by that the tournament be done, and ye come hither again, Sir Lancelot shall be as whole as ye, if so be that he will be governed by me.”
Then Sir Bors made him ready to depart from Sir Lancelot; and then Sir Lancelot said, “Fair cousin, Sir Bors, recommend me unto all them unto whom I ought to recommend me. And I pray you, exert yourself at the jousts that ye may be best, for my love; and here shall I abide you at the mercy of God till ye come again.”