Then, as had been his wont at the court of Arthur, Sir Geraint went to all tournaments that were held within easy reach of his kingdom. Thus he became acquainted with every mighty knight of his hands throughout the lands of Cornwall, Wales and Logres; and so great in strength and prowess did he become that men hailed him as one of the Three Great Heroes of the Isle of Britain; the other two being Sir Lancelot du Lake and Sir Tristram of Lyones. And though there Were other great and valiant warriors, as Sir Lamorake, Sir Bors, Sir Gawaine and his brother, Sir Gareth, and Sir Palomides, yet all these had been overcome by one or other of the three heroes. For as yet Sir Perceval was in the forest with his widowed mother, and knew no arms but a stone or a stick; and Sir Galahad was not yet born. And these two were knights stainless of pride or any evil desire, and by that force alone did strike down every arm, however mighty, that relied on knightly prowess alone. When his fame had spread over all the kingdoms south of Trent, so that no knight that knew him or saw the device of the golden falcon on his shield would have to do with him, Sir Geraint began to seek ease and pleasure, for there was no one who would joust with him. He began to stay at home and never went beyond his wife's bower-chamber, but sat and delighted in playing chess, or hearing the bards of the court sing songs of glamour and wizardry, or tell him tales of ancient warriors and lovers, long since dead. The whole court marvelled at his slothfulness as time passed and he changed not. He gave up the friendship of his nobles, and went not hunting or hawking; and found no pleasure but in the company of his wife, whom he dearly loved. Men began to scoff and jeer at his name over their cups in hall, or as they rode with hawk on fist to the hunting, or as they tilted in the lists. And the lawless lords upon the marches of the land began to stir and to dare, and when none came to punish them, their plunderings and oppressions grew. Soon these things came to the ears of the old King Erbin, and great heaviness was upon him. And he called the Lady Enid to him one day, and with stern sorrow in his eyes spoke thus: 'Fair woman, is it thou that hast turned my son's spirit into water? Is it thy love that hath made his name a byword among those who should love him because he is not as he once was--a man no one could meet in arms and overcome? Is it thou that hath sunk him in slothfulness, so that the wolfish lords and tyrant barons upon his marchlands begin to creep out of their castleholds, and tear and maim his people and wrest from them and him broad lands and fertile fields?'