Then Geraint signed to Enid to ride on as before, and so they journeyed the space of another hour while the summer sun beat upon them with ever increasing force.  Now the Prince had received a grievous hurt in the encounter with Earl Durm and his men; but such was his spirit that he heeded it not, though the wound bled sore under his armour.  Presently, as they rode, there came to them the sound of wailing, and by the wayside they saw a lady weeping bitterly over a knight who lay dead on the ground.  “Lady,” said Geraint, “what has befallen you?” “Noble knight,” she replied, “as we rode through the forest, my husband and I, three villains set upon him at once, and slew him.”  “Which way went they?” asked Geraint.  “Straight on by this high-road that ye follow even now,” answered she.  Then Geraint bade Enid remain with the lady while he rode on to take vengeance on the miscreants.  And Enid waited fearfully the long while he was gone, and her heart rejoiced when she saw him returning.  But soon her joy was turned to sorrow, for his armour was all dented and covered with blood and his face ghastly; and even as he reached her side, he fell from his horse, prone on the ground.  Then Enid strove to loosen his armour, and having found the wound, she staunched it as best she might and bound it with her veil.  And taking his head on her lap, she chafed his hands and tried with her own body to shield him from the sun, her tears falling fast the while.  So she waited till, perchance, help might come that way; and presently, indeed, she heard the tramp of horses, and a troop came riding by with the Earl Limours at their head.  And when the Earl saw the two fallen knights and the weeping women beside them, he stayed his horse, and said:  “Ladies, what has chanced to you?” Then she whose husband had been slain said:  “Sir, three caitiffs set on my husband at once and slew him.  Then came this good knight and went in pursuit of them, and as I think, slew them; but when he came back, he fell from his horse, sore wounded as ye see, and, I fear me, by now he is dead.”  “Nay, gentle sir,” cried Enid; “it cannot be that he is dead.  Only, I beseech you, suffer two of your men to carry him hence to some place of shelter where he may have help and tendance.”  “I misdoubt me, it is but labour wasted,” said the Earl; “nevertheless, for the sake of your fair face, it shall be as ye desire.”  Then he ordered two of his men to carry Geraint to his halls and two more to stay behind and bury the dead knight, while he caused the two women to be placed on led horses; and so they rode to his castle.  When they were arrived there, the two spearmen who had carried Geraint, placed him on a settle in the hall, and Enid crouched by his side, striving if by any means she might bring him back to life.  And gradually Geraint recovered, though still he lay as in a swoon, hearing indeed what passed around him, but dimly, as from a distance.