Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
After the siege and the assault of Troy, when that burg was destroyed
and burnt to ashes, and the traitor tried for his treason, the noble
Æneas and his kin sailed forth to become princes and patrons of
well-nigh all the Western Isles. Thus Romulus built Rome (and gave to
the city his own name, which it bears even to this day); and Ticius
turned him to Tuscany; and Langobard raised him up dwellings in
Lombardy; and Felix Brutus sailed far over the French flood, and founded
the kingdom of Britain, wherein have been war and waste and wonder, and
bliss and bale, ofttimes since.
And in that kingdom of Britain have been wrought more gallant deeds
than in any other; but of all British kings Arthur was the most valiant,
as I have heard tell, therefore will I set forth a wondrous adventure
that fell out in his time. And if ye will listen to me, but for a little
while, I will tell it even as it stands in story stiff and strong,
fixed in the letter, as it hath long been known in the land.
*****
King Arthur lay at Camelot upon a Christmas-tide, with many a gallant
lord and lovely lady, and all the noble brotherhood of the Round Table.
There they held rich revels with gay talk and jest; one while they
would ride forth to joust and tourney, and again back to the court to
make carols;
2
for there was the feast holden fifteen days with all the mirth that men
could devise, song and glee, glorious to hear, in the daytime, and
dancing at night. Halls and chambers were crowded with noble guests, the
bravest of knights and the loveliest of ladies, and Arthur himself was
the comeliest king that ever held a court. For all this fair folk were
in their youth, the fairest and most fortunate under heaven, and the
king himself of such fame that it were hard now to name so valiant a
hero.
Now the New Year had but newly come in, and on that day a double
portion was served on the high table to all the noble guests, and
thither came the king with all his knights, when the service in the
chapel had been sung to an end. And they greeted each other for the New
Year, and gave rich gifts, the one to the other (and they that received
them were not wroth, that may ye well believe!), and the maidens laughed
and made mirth till it was time to get them to meat. Then they washed
and sat them down to the feast in fitting rank and order, and Guinevere
the queen, gaily clad, sat on the high daïs. Silken was her seat, with a
fair canopy over her head, of rich tapestries of Tars, embroidered, and
studded with costly gems; fair she was to look upon, with her shining
grey eyes, a fairer woman might no man boast himself of having seen.
But Arthur would not eat till all were served, so full of joy and
gladness was he, even as a child; he liked not either to lie long, or to
sit long at meat, so worked upon him his young blood and his wild
brain. And another custom he had also, that came of his nobility, that
he would never eat upon an high day till he had been advised of some
knightly deed, or some strange and marvellous tale, of his ancestors, or
of arms, or of other ventures. Or till some stranger knight should seek
of him leave to joust with one of the Round Table, that they might set
their lives in jeopardy, one against another, as fortune might favour
them. Such was the king's custom when he sat in hall at each high feast
with his noble knights, therefore on that New Year tide, he abode, fair
of face, on the throne, and made much mirth withal.
Thus the king sat before the high tables, and spake of many things;
and there good Sir Gawain was seated by Guinevere the queen, and on her
other side sat Agravain,
à la dure main;
3
both were the king's sister's sons and full gallant knights. And at the
end of the table was Bishop Bawdewyn, and Ywain, King Urien's son, sat
at the other side alone. These were worthily served on the daïs, and at
the lower tables sat many valiant knights. Then they bare the first
course with the blast of trumpets and waving of banners, with the sound
of drums and pipes, of song and lute, that many a heart was uplifted at
the melody. Many were the dainties, and rare the meats, so great was the
plenty they might scarce find room on the board to set on the dishes.
Each helped himself as he liked best, and to each two were twelve
dishes, with great plenty of beer and wine.
Now I will say no more of the service, but that ye may know there was
no lack, for there drew near a venture that the folk might well have
left their labour to gaze upon. As the sound of the music ceased, and
the first course had been fitly served, there came in at the hall door
one terrible to behold, of stature greater than any on earth; from neck
to loin so strong and thickly made, and with limbs so long and so great
that he seemed even as a giant. And yet he was but a man, only the
mightiest that might mount a steed; broad of chest and shoulders and
slender of waist, and all his features of like fashion; but men
marvelled much at his colour, for he rode even as a knight, yet was
green all over.
For he was clad all in green, with a straight coat, and a mantle
above; all decked and lined with fur was the cloth and the hood that was
thrown back from his locks and lay on his shoulders. Hose had he of the
same green, and spurs of bright gold with silken fastenings richly
worked; and all his vesture was verily green. Around his waist and his
saddle were bands with fair stones set upon silken work, 'twere too long
to tell of all the trifles that were embroidered thereon--birds and
insects in gay gauds of green and gold. All the trappings of his steed
were of metal of like enamel, even the stirrups that he stood in stained
of the same, and stirrups and saddle-bow alike gleamed and shone with
green stones. Even the steed on which he rode was of the same hue, a
green horse, great and strong, and hard to hold, with broidered bridle,
meet for the rider.
The knight was thus gaily dressed in green, his hair falling around
his shoulders; on his breast hung a beard, as thick and green as a bush,
and the beard and the hair of his head were clipped all round above his
elbows. The lower part of his sleeves were fastened with clasps in the
same wise as a king's mantle. The horse's mane was crisp and plaited
with many a knot folded in with gold thread about the fair green, here a
twist of the hair, here another of gold. The tail was twined in like
manner, and both were bound about with a band of bright green set with
many a precious stone; then they were tied aloft in a cunning knot,
whereon rang many bells of burnished gold. Such a steed might no other
ride, nor had such ever been looked upon in that hall ere that time; and
all who saw that knight spake and said that a man might scarce abide
his stroke.
The knight bore no helm nor hauberk, neither gorget nor breast-plate,
neither shaft nor buckler to smite nor to shield, but in one hand he
had a holly-bough, that is greenest when the groves are bare, and in his
other an axe, huge and uncomely, a cruel weapon in fashion, if one
would picture it. The head was an ell-yard long, the metal all of green
steel and gold, the blade burnished bright, with a broad edge, as well
shapen to shear as a sharp razor. The steel was set into a strong staff,
all bound round with iron, even to the end, and engraved with green in
cunning work. A lace was twined about it, that looped at the head, and
all adown the handle it was clasped with tassels on buttons of bright
green richly broidered.
The knight rideth through the entrance of the hall, driving straight
to the high daïs, and greeted no man, but looked ever upwards; and the
first words he spake were, "Where is the ruler of this folk? I would
gladly look upon that hero, and have speech with him." He cast his eyes
on the knights, and mustered them up and down, striving ever to see who
of them was of most renown.
Then was there great gazing to behold that chief, for each man
marvelled what it might mean that a knight and his steed should have
even such a hue as the green grass; and that seemed even greener than
green enamel on bright gold. All looked on him as he stood, and drew
near unto him wondering greatly what he might be; for many marvels had
they seen, but none such as this, and phantasm and faërie did the folk
deem it. Therefore were the gallant knights slow to answer, and gazed
astounded, and sat stone still in a deep silence through that goodly
hall, as if a slumber were fallen upon them. I deem it was not all for
doubt, but some for courtesy that they might give ear unto his errand.
Then Arthur beheld this adventurer before his high daïs, and knightly
he greeted him, for fearful was he never. "Sir," he said, "thou art
welcome to this place--lord of this hall am I, and men call me Arthur.
Light thee down, and tarry awhile, and what thy will is, that shall we
learn after."
"Nay," quoth the stranger, "so help me He that sitteth on high, 'twas
not mine errand to tarry any while in this dwelling; but the praise of
this thy folk and thy city is lifted up on high, and thy warriors are
holden for the best and the most valiant of those who ride mail-clad to
the fight. The wisest and the worthiest of this world are they, and well
proven in all knightly sports. And here, as I have heard tell, is
fairest courtesy, therefore have I come hither as at this time. Ye may
be sure by the branch that I bear here that I come in peace, seeking no
strife. For had I willed to journey in warlike guise I have at home both
hauberk and helm, shield and shining spear, and other weapons to mine
hand, but since I seek no war my raiment is that of peace. But if thou
be as bold as all men tell thou wilt freely grant me the boon I ask."
And Arthur answered, "Sir Knight, if thou cravest battle here thou shalt not fail for lack of a foe."
And the knight answered, "Nay, I ask no fight, in faith here on the
benches are but beardless children, were I clad in armour on my steed
there is no man here might match me. Therefore I ask in this court but a
Christmas jest, for that it is Yule-tide, and New Year, and there are
here many fain for sport. If any one in this hall holds himself so
hardy,
4
so bold both of blood and brain, as to dare strike me one stroke for
another, I will give him as a gift this axe, which is heavy enough, in
sooth, to handle as he may list, and I will abide the first blow,
unarmed as I sit. If any knight be so bold as to prove my words let him
come swiftly to me here, and take this weapon, I quit claim to it, he
may keep it as his own, and I will abide his stroke, firm on the floor.
Then shalt thou give me the right to deal him another, the respite of a
year and a day shall he have. Now haste, and let see whether any here
dare say aught."
Now if the knights had been astounded at the first, yet stiller were
they all, high and low, when they had heard his words. The knight on his
steed straightened himself in the saddle, and rolled his eyes fiercely
round the hall, red they gleamed under his green and bushy brows. He
frowned and twisted his beard, waiting to see who should rise, and when
none answered he cried aloud in mockery, "What, is this Arthur's hall,
and these the knights whose renown hath run through many realms? Where
are now your pride and your conquests, your wrath, and anger, and mighty
words? Now are the praise and the renown of the Round Table overthrown
by one man's speech, since all keep silence for dread ere ever they have
seen a blow!"
With that he laughed so loudly that the blood rushed to the king's
fair face for very shame; he waxed wroth, as did all his knights, and
sprang to his feet, and drew near to the stranger and said, "Now by
heaven foolish is thy asking, and thy folly shall find its fitting
answer. I know no man aghast at thy great words. Give me here thine axe
and I shall grant thee the boon thou hast asked." Lightly he sprang to
him and caught at his hand, and the knight, fierce of aspect, lighted
down from his charger.
Then Arthur took the axe and gripped the haft, and swung it round,
ready to strike. And the knight stood before him, taller by the head
than any in the hall; he stood, and stroked his beard, and drew down his
coat, no more dismayed for the king's threats than if one had brought
him a drink of wine.
Then Gawain, who sat by the queen, leaned forward to the king and
spake, "I beseech ye, my lord, let this venture be mine. Would ye but
bid me rise from this seat, and stand by your side, so that my liege
lady thought it not ill, then would I come to your counsel before this
goodly court. For I think it not seemly when such challenges be made in
your hall that ye yourself should undertake it, while there are many
bold knights who sit beside ye, none are there, methinks, of readier
will under heaven, or more valiant in open field. I am the weakest, I
wot, and the feeblest of wit, and it will be the less loss of my life if
ye seek sooth. For save that ye are mine uncle naught is there in me to
praise, no virtue is there in my body save your blood, and since this
challenge is such folly that it beseems ye not to take it, and I have
asked it from ye first, let it fall to me, and if I bear myself
ungallantly then let all this court blame me."
Then they all spake with one voice that the king should leave this venture and grant it to Gawain.
Then Arthur commanded the knight to rise, and he rose up quickly and
knelt down before the king, and caught hold of the weapon; and the king
loosed his hold of it, and lifted up his hand, and gave him his
blessing, and bade him be strong both of heart and hand. "Keep thee
well, nephew," quoth Arthur, "that thou give him but the one blow, and
if thou redest him rightly I trow thou shalt well abide the stroke he
may give thee after."
Gawain stepped to the stranger, axe in hand, and he, never fearing,
awaited his coming. Then the Green Knight spake to Sir Gawain, "Make we
our covenant ere we go further. First, I ask thee, knight, what is thy
name? Tell me truly, that I may know thee."
"In faith," quoth the good knight, "Gawain am I, who give thee this
buffet, let what may come of it; and at this time twelvemonth will I
take another at thine hand with whatsoever weapon thou wilt, and none
other."
Then the other answered again, "Sir Gawain, so may I thrive as I am
fain to take this buffet at thine hand," and he quoth further, "Sir
Gawain, it liketh me well that I shall take at thy fist that which I
have asked here, and thou hast readily and truly rehearsed all the
covenant that I asked of the king, save that thou shalt swear me, by thy
troth, to seek me thyself wherever thou hopest that I may be found, and
win thee such reward as thou dealest me to-day, before this folk."
"Where shall I seek thee?" quoth Gawain. "Where is thy place? By Him
that made me, I wot never where thou dwellest, nor know I thee, knight,
thy court, nor thy name. But teach me truly all that pertaineth thereto,
and tell me thy name, and I shall use all my wit to win my way thither,
and that I swear thee for sooth, and by my sure troth."
"That is enough in the New Year, it needs no more," quoth the Green
Knight to the gallant Gawain, "if I tell thee truly when I have taken
the blow, and thou hast smitten me; then will I teach thee of my house
and home, and mine own name, then mayest thou ask thy road and keep
covenant. And if I waste no words then farest thou the better, for thou
canst dwell in thy land, and seek no further. But take now thy toll, and
let see how thy strikest."
"Gladly will I," quoth Gawain, handling his axe.
Then the Green Knight swiftly made him ready, he bowed down his head,
and laid his long locks on the crown that his bare neck might be seen.
Gawain gripped his axe and raised it on high, the left foot he set
forward on the floor, and let the blow fall lightly on the bare neck.
The sharp edge of the blade sundered the bones, smote through the neck,
and clave it in two, so that the edge of the steel bit on the ground,
and the fair head fell to the earth that many struck it with their feet
as it rolled forth. The blood spurted forth, and glistened on the green
raiment, but the knight neither faltered nor fell; he started forward
with out-stretched hand, and caught the head, and lifted it up; then he
turned to his steed, and took hold of the bride, set his foot in the
stirrup, and mounted. His head he held by the hair, in his hand. Then he
seated himself in his saddle as if naught ailed him, and he were not
headless. He turned his steed about, the grim corpse bleeding freely the
while, and they who looked upon him doubted them much for the covenant.
For he held up the head in his hand, and turned the face towards them
that sat on the high daïs, and it lifted up the eyelids and looked upon
them and spake as ye shall hear. "Look, Gawain, that thou art ready to
go as thou hast promised, and seek leally till thou find me, even as
thou hast sworn in this hall in the hearing of these knights. Come thou,
I charge thee, to the Green Chapel, such a stroke as thou hast dealt
thou hast deserved, and it shall be promptly paid thee on New Year's
morn. Many men know me as the knight of the Green Chapel, and if thou
askest, thou shalt not fail to find me. Therefore it behoves thee to
come, or to yield thee as recreant."
With that he turned his bridle, and galloped out at the hall door,
his head in his hands, so that the sparks flew from beneath his horse's
hoofs. Whither he went none knew, no more than they wist whence he had
come; and the king and Gawain they gazed and laughed, for in sooth this
had proved a greater marvel than any they had known aforetime.
Though Arthur the king was astonished at his heart, yet he let no
sign of it be seen, but spake in courteous wise to the fair queen: "Dear
lady, be not dismayed, such craft is well suited to Christmas-tide when
we seek jesting, laughter and song, and fair carols of knights and
ladies. But now I may well get me to meat, for I have seen a marvel I
may not forget." Then he looked on Sir Gawain, and said gaily, "Now,
fair nephew, hang up thine axe, since it has hewn enough," and they hung
it on the dossal above the daïs, where all men might look on it for a
marvel, and by its true token tell of the wonder. Then the twain sat
them down together, the king and the good knight, and men served them
with a double portion, as was the share of the noblest, with all manner
of meat and of minstrelsy. And they spent that day in gladness, but Sir
Gawain must well bethink him of the heavy venture to which he had set
his hand. *****
This beginning of adventures had Arthur at the New Year; for he
yearned to hear gallant tales, though his words were few when he sat at
the feast. But now had they stern work on hand. Gawain was glad to begin
the jest in the hall, but ye need have no marvel if the end be heavy.
For though a man be merry in mind when he has well drunk, yet a year
runs full swiftly, and the beginning but rarely matches the end.
For Yule was now over-past
5,
and the year after, each season in its turn following the other. For
after Christmas comes crabbed Lent, that will have fish for flesh and
simpler cheer. But then the weather of the world chides with winter; the
cold withdraws itself, the clouds uplift, and the rain falls in warm
showers on the fair plains. Then the flowers come forth, meadows and
grove are clad in green, the birds make ready to build, and sing sweetly
for solace of the soft summer that follows thereafter. The blossoms bud
and blow in the hedgerows rich and rank, and noble notes enough are
heard in the fair woods.
After the season of summer, with the soft winds, when zephyr breathes
lightly on seeds and herbs, joyous indeed is the growth that waxes
thereout when the dew drips from the leaves beneath the blissful glance
of the bright sun. But then comes harvest and hardens the grain, warning
it to wax ripe ere the winter. The drought drives the dust on high,
flying over the face of the land; the angry wind of the welkin wrestles
with the sun; the leaves fall from the trees and light upon the ground,
and all brown are the groves that but now were green, and ripe is the
fruit that once was flower. So the year passes into many yesterdays, and
winter comes again, as it needs no sage to tell us.
When the Michaelmas moon was come in with warnings of winter, Sir
Gawain bethought him full oft of his perilous journey. Yet till All
Hallows Day he lingered with Arthur, and on that day they made a great
feast for the hero's sake, with much revel and richness of the Round
Table. Courteous knights and comely ladies, all were in sorrow for the
love of that knight, and though they spake no word of it, many were
joyless for his sake.
And after meat, sadly Sir Gawain turned to his uncle, and spake of
his journey, and said, "Liege lord of my life, leave from you I crave.
Ye know well how the matter stands without more words, to-morrow am I
bound to set forth in search of the Green Knight."
Then came together all the noblest knights, Ywain and Erec, and many
another. Sir Dodinel le Sauvage, the Duke of Clarence, Launcelot and
Lionel, and Lucan the Good, Sir Bors and Sir Bedivere, valiant knights
both, and many another hero, with Sir Mador de la Porte, and they all
drew near, heavy at heart, to take counsel with Sir Gawain. Much sorrow
and weeping was there in the hall to think that so worthy a knight as
Gawain should wend his way to seek a deadly blow, and should no more
wield his sword in fight. But the knight made ever good cheer, and said,
"Nay, wherefore should I shrink? What may a man do but prove his fate?"
He dwelt there all that day, and on the morn he arose and asked
betimes for his armour; and they brought it unto him on this wise:
first, a rich carpet was stretched on the floor
6
(and brightly did the gold gear glitter upon it), then the knight
stepped on to it, and handled the steel; clad he was in a doublet of
silk, with a close hood, lined fairly throughout. Then they set the
steel shoes upon his feet, and wrapped his legs with greaves, with
polished knee-caps, fastened with knots of gold. Then they cased his
thighs in cuisses closed with thongs, and brought him the byrny of
bright steel rings sewn upon a fair stuff. Well burnished braces they
set on each arm with good elbow-pieces, and gloves of mail, and all the
goodly gear that should shield him in his need. And they cast over all a
rich surcoat, and set the golden spurs on his heels, and girt him with a
trusty sword fastened with a silken bawdrick. When he was thus clad his
harness was costly, for the least loop or latchet gleamed with gold. So
armed as he was he hearkened Mass and made his offering at the high
altar. Then he came to the king, and the knights of his court, and
courteously took leave of lords and ladies, and they kissed him, and
commended him to Christ.
With that was Gringalet ready, girt with a saddle that gleamed gaily
with many golden fringes, enriched and decked anew for the venture. The
bridle was all barred about with bright gold buttons, and all the
covertures and trappings of the steed, the crupper and the rich skirts,
accorded with the saddle; spread fair with the rich red gold that
glittered and gleamed in the rays of the sun.
Then the knight called for his helmet, which was well lined
throughout, and set it high on his head, and hasped it behind. He wore a
light kerchief over the vintail, that was broidered and studded with
fair gems on a broad silken ribbon, with birds of gay colour, and many a
turtle and true-lover's knot interlaced thickly, even as many a maiden
had wrought diligently for seven winter long. But the circlet which
crowned his helmet was yet more precious, being adorned with a device in
diamonds. Then they brought him his shield, which was of bright red,
with the pentangle painted thereon in gleaming gold.
7
And why that noble prince bare the pentangle I am minded to tell you,
though my tale tarry thereby. It is a sign that Solomon set ere-while,
as betokening truth; for it is a figure with five points and each line
overlaps the other, and nowhere hath it beginning or end, so that in
English it is called "the endless knot." And therefore was it well
suiting to this knight and to his arms, since Gawain was faithful in
five and five-fold, for pure was he as gold, void of all villainy and
endowed with all virtues. Therefore he bare the pentangle on shield and
surcoat as truest of heroes and gentlest of knights.
For first he was faultless in his five senses; and his five fingers
never failed him; and all his trust upon earth was in the five wounds
that Christ bare on the cross, as the Creed tells. And wherever this
knight found himself in stress of battle he deemed well that he drew his
strength from the five joys which the Queen of Heaven had of her Child.
And for this cause did he bear an image of Our Lady on the one half of
his shield, that whenever he looked upon it he might not lack for aid.
And the fifth five that the hero used were frankness and fellowship
above all, purity and courtesy that never failed him, and compassion
that surpasses all; and in these five virtues was that hero wrapped and
clothed. And all these, five-fold, were linked one in the other, so that
they had no end, and were fixed on five points that never failed,
neither at any side were they joined or sundered, nor could ye find
beginning or end. And therefore on his shield was the knot shapen,
red-gold upon red, which is the pure pentangle. Now was Sir Gawain
ready, and he took his lance in hand, and bade them all
Farewell, he deemed it had been for ever.
Then he smote the steed with his spurs, and sprang on his way, so
that sparks flew from the stones after him. All that saw him were
grieved at heart, and said one to the other, "By Christ, 'tis great pity
that one of such noble life should be lost! I'faith, 'twere not easy to
find his equal upon earth. The king had done better to have wrought
more warily. Yonder knight should have been made a duke; a gallant
leader of men is he, and such a fate had beseemed him better than to be
hewn in pieces at the will of an elfish man, for mere pride. Who ever
knew a king to take such counsel as to risk his knights on a Christmas
jest?" Many were the tears that flowed from their eyes when that goodly
knight rode from the hall. He made no delaying, but went his way
swiftly, and rode many a wild road, as I heard say in the book.
So rode Sir Gawain through the realm of Logres, on an errand that he
held for no jest. Often he lay companionless at night, and must lack the
fare that he liked. No comrade had he save his steed, and none save God
with whom to take counsel. At length he drew nigh to North Wales, and
left the isles of Anglesey on his left hand, crossing over the fords by
the foreland over at Holyhead, till he came into the wilderness of
Wirral
8,
where but few dwell who love God and man of true heart. And ever he
asked, as he fared, of all whom he met, if they had heard any tidings of
a Green Knight in the country thereabout, or of a Green Chapel? And all
answered him, Nay, never in their lives had they seen any man of such a
hue. And the knight wended his way by many a strange road and many a
rugged path, and the fashion of his countenance changed full often ere
he saw the Green Chapel.
Many a cliff did he climb in that unknown land, where afar from his
friends he rode as a stranger. Never did he come to a stream or a ford
but he found a foe before him, and that one so marvellous, so foul and
fell, that it behoved him to fight. So many wonders did that knight
behold, that it were too long to tell the tenth part of them. Sometimes
he fought with dragons and wolves; sometimes with wild men that dwelt in
the rocks; another while with bulls, and bears, and wild boars, or with
giants of the high moorland that drew near to him. Had he not been a
doughty knight, enduring, and of well-proved valour, and a servant of
God, doubtless he had been slain, for he was oft in danger of death. Yet
he cared not so much for the strife, what he deemed worse was when the
cold clear water was shed from the clouds, and froze ere it fell on the
fallow ground. More nights than enough he slept in his harness on the
bare rocks, near slain with the sleet, while the stream leapt bubbling
from the crest of the hills, and hung in hard icicles over his head.
Thus in peril and pain, and many a hardship, the knight rode alone
till Christmas Eve, and in that tide he made his prayer to the Blessed
Virgin that she would guide his steps and lead him to some dwelling. On
that morning he rode by a hill, and came into a thick forest, wild and
drear; on each side were high hills, and thick woods below them of great
hoar oaks, a hundred together, of hazel and hawthorn with their
trailing boughs intertwined, and rough ragged moss spreading everywhere.
On the bare twigs the birds chirped piteously, for pain of the cold.
The knight upon Gringalet rode lonely beneath them, through marsh and
mire, much troubled at heart lest he should fail to see the service of
the Lord, who on that self-same night was born of a maiden for the cure
of our grief; and therefore he said, sighing, "I beseech Thee, Lord, and
Mary Thy gentle Mother, for some shelter where I may hear Mass, and Thy
mattins at morn. This I ask meekly, and thereto I pray my Paternoster,
Ave, and Credo." Thus he rode praying, and lamenting his misdeeds, and
he crossed himself, and said, "May the Cross of Christ speed me."
Now that knight had crossed himself but thrice ere he was aware in
the wood of a dwelling within a moat, above a lawn, on a mound
surrounded by many mighty trees that stood round the moat. 'Twas the
fairest castle that ever a knight owned
9;
built in a meadow with a park all about it, and a spiked palisade,
closely driven, that enclosed the trees for more than two miles. The
knight was ware of the hold from the side, as it shone through the oaks.
Then he lifted off his helmet, and thanked Christ and S. Julian that
they had courteously granted his prayer, and hearkened to his cry.
"Now," quoth the knight, "I beseech ye, grant me fair hostel." Then he
pricked Gringalet with his golden spurs, and rode gaily towards the
great gate, and came swiftly to the bridge end.
The bridge was drawn up and the gates close shut; the walls were
strong and thick, so that they might fear no tempest. The knight on his
charger abode on the bank of the deep double ditch that surrounded the
castle. The walls were set deep in the water, and rose aloft to a
wondrous height; they were of hard hewn stone up to the corbels, which
were adorned beneath the battlements with fair carvings, and turrets set
in between with many a loophole; a better barbican Sir Gawain had never
looked upon. And within he beheld the high hall, with its tower and
many windows with carven cornices, and chalk-white chimneys on the
turreted roofs that shone fair in the sun. And everywhere, thickly
scattered on the castle battlements, were pinnacles, so many that it
seemed as if it were all wrought out of paper, so white was it.
The knight on his steed deemed it fair enough, if he might come to be
sheltered within it to lodge there while that the Holy-day lasted. He
called aloud, and soon there came a porter of kindly countenance, who
stood on the wall and greeted this knight and asked his errand.
"Good sir," quoth Gawain, "wilt thou go mine errand to the high lord of the castle, and crave for me lodging?"
"Yea, by S. Peter," quoth the porter. "In sooth I trow that ye be welcome to dwell here so long as it may like ye."
Then he went, and came again swiftly, and many folk with him to
receive the knight. They let down the great drawbridge, and came forth
and knelt on their knees on the cold earth to give him worthy welcome.
They held wide open the great gates, and courteously he bid them rise,
and rode over the bridge. Then men came to him and held his stirrup
while he dismounted, and took and stabled his steed. There came down
knights and squires to bring the guest with joy to the hall. When he
raised his helmet there were many to take it from his hand, fain to
serve him, and they took from him sword and shield.
Sir Gawain gave good greeting to the noble and the mighty men who
came to do him honour. Clad in his shining armour they led him to the
hall, where a great fire burnt brightly on the floor; and the lord of
the household came forth from his chamber to meet the hero fitly. He
spake to the knight, and said: "Ye are welcome to do here as it likes
ye. All that is here is your own to have at your will and disposal."
"Gramercy!" quote Gawain, "may Christ requite ye."
As friends that were fain each embraced the other; and Gawain looked
on the knight who greeted him so kindly, and thought 'twas a bold
warrior that owned that burg.
Of mighty stature he was, and of high age; broad and flowing was his
beard, and of a bright hue. He was stalwart of limb, and strong in his
stride, his face fiery red, and his speech free: in sooth he seemed one
well fitted to be a leader of valiant men.
Then the lord led Sir Gawain to a chamber, and commanded folk to wait
upon him, and at his bidding there came men enough who brought the
guest to a fair bower. The bedding was noble, with curtains of pure silk
wrought with gold, and wondrous coverings of fair cloth all
embroidered. The curtains ran on ropes with rings of red gold, and the
walls were hung with carpets of Orient, and the same spread on the
floor. There with mirthful speeches they took from the guest his byrny
and all his shining armour, and brought him rich robes of the choicest
in its stead. They were long and flowing, and became him well, and when
he was clad in them all who looked on the hero thought that surely God
had never made a fairer knight: he seemed as if he might be a prince
without peer in the field where men strive in battle.
Then before the hearth-place, whereon the fire burned, they made
ready a chair for Gawain, hung about with cloth and fair cushions; and
there they cast around him a mantle of brown samite, richly embroidered
and furred within with costly skins of ermine, with a hood of the same,
and he seated himself in that rich seat, and warmed himself at the fire,
and was cheered at heart. And while he sat thus the serving men set up a
table on trestles, and covered it with a fair white cloth, and set
thereon salt-cellar, and napkin, and silver spoons; and the knight
washed at his will, and set him down to meat.
The folk served him courteously with many dishes seasoned of the
best, a double portion. All kinds of fish were there, some baked in
bread, some broiled on the embers, some sodden, some stewed and savoured
with spices, with all sorts of cunning devices to his taste. And often
he called it a feast, when they spake gaily to him all together, and
said, "Now take ye this penance, and it shall be for your amendment."
Much mirth thereof did Sir Gawain make.
Then they questioned that prince courteously of whence he came; and
he told them that he was of the court of Arthur, who is the rich royal
King of the Round Table, and that it was Gawain himself who was within
their walls, and would keep Christmas with them, as the chance had
fallen out. And when the lord of the castle heard those tidings he
laughed aloud for gladness, and all men in that keep were joyful that
they should be in the company of him to whom belonged all fame, and
valour, and courtesy, and whose honour was praised above that of all men
on earth. Each said softly to his fellow, "Now shall we see courteous
bearing, and the manner of speech befitting courts. What charm lieth in
gentle speech shall we learn without asking, since here we have welcomed
the fine father of courtesy. God has surely shewn us His grace since He
sends us such a guest as Gawain! When men shall sit and sing, blithe
for Christ's birth, this knight shall bring us to the knowledge of fair
manners, and it may be that hearing him we may learn the cunning speech
of love."
By the time the knight had risen from dinner it was near nightfall.
Then chaplains took their way to the chapel, and rang loudly, even as
they should, for the solemn evensong of the high feast. Thither went the
lord, and the lady also, and entered with her maidens into a comely
closet, and thither also went Gawain. Then the lord took him by the
sleeve and led him to a seat, and called him by his name, and told him
he was of all men in the world the most welcome. And Sir Gawain thanked
him truly, and each kissed the other, and they sat gravely together
throughout the service.
Then was the lady fain to look upon that knight; and she came forth
from her closet with many fair maidens. The fairest of ladies was she in
face, and figure, and colouring, fairer even than Guinevere, so the
knight thought. She came through the chancel to greet the hero, another
lady held her by the left hand, older than she, and seemingly of high
estate, with many nobles about her. But unlike to look upon were those
ladies, for if the younger were fair, the elder was yellow. Rich red
were the cheeks of the one, rough and wrinkled those of the other; the
kerchiefs of the one were broidered with many glistening pearls, her
throat and neck bare, and whiter than the snow that lies on the hills;
the neck of the other was swathed in a gorget, with a white wimple over
her black chin. Her forehead was wrapped in silk with many folds, worked
with knots, so that naught of her was seen save her black brows, her
eyes, her nose and her lips, and those were bleared, and ill to look
upon. A worshipful lady in sooth one might call her! In figure was she
short and broad, and thickly made--far fairer to behold was she whom she
led by the hand.
When Gawain beheld that fair lady, who looked at him graciously, with
leave of the lord he went towards them, and, bowing low, he greeted the
elder, but the younger and fairer he took lightly in his arms, and
kissed her courteously, and greeted her in knightly wise. Then she
hailed him as friend, and he quickly prayed to be counted as her
servant, if she so willed. Then they took him between them, and talking,
led him to the chamber, to the hearth, and bade them bring spices, and
they brought them in plenty with the good wine that was wont to be drunk
at such seasons. Then the lord sprang to his feet and bade them make
merry, and took off his hood, and hung it on a spear, and bade him win
the worship thereof who should make most mirth that Christmas-tide. "And
I shall try, by my faith, to fool it with the best, by the help of my
friends, ere I lose my raiment." Thus with gay words the lord made trial
to gladden Gawain with jests that night, till it was time to bid them
light the tapers, and Sir Gawain took leave of them and gat him to rest.
In the morn when all men call to mind how Christ our Lord was born on
earth to die for us, there is joy, for His sake, in all dwellings of
the world; and so was there here on that day. For high feast was held,
with many dainties and cunningly cooked messes. On the daïs sat gallant
men, clad in their best. The ancient dame sat on the high seat, with the
lord of the castle beside her. Gawain and the fair lady sat together,
even in the midst of the board, when the feast was served; and so
throughout all the hall each sat in his degree, and was served in order.
There was meat, there was mirth, there was much joy, so that to tell
thereof would take me too long, though peradventure I might strive to
declare it. But Gawain and that fair lady had much joy of each other's
company through her sweet words and courteous converse. And there was
music made before each prince, trumpets and drums, and merry piping;
each man hearkened his minstrel, and they too hearkened theirs.
So they held high feast that day and the next, and the third day
thereafter, and the joy on S. John's Day was fair to hearken, for 'twas
the last of the feast and the guests would depart in the grey of the
morning. Therefore they awoke early, and drank wine, and danced fair
carols, and at last, when it was late, each man took his leave to wend
early on his way. Gawain would bid his host farewell, but the lord took
him by the hand, and led him to his own chamber beside the hearth, and
there he thanked him for the favour he had shown him in honouring his
dwelling at that high season, and gladdening his castle with his fair
countenance. "I wis, sir, that while I live I shall be held the worthier
that Gawain has been my guest at God's own feast."
"Gramercy, sir," quoth Gawain, "in good faith, all the honour is
yours, may the High King give it you, and I am but at your will to work
your behest, inasmuch as I am beholden to you in great and small by
rights."
Then the lord did his best to persuade the knight to tarry with him,
but Gawain answered that he might in no wise do so. Then the host asked
him courteously what stern behest had driven him at the holy season from
the king's court, to fare all alone, ere yet the feast was ended?
"Forsooth," quoth the knight, "ye say but the truth: 'tis a high
quest and a pressing that hath brought me afield, for I am summoned
myself to a certain place, and I know not whither in the world I may
wend to find it; so help me Christ, I would give all the kingdom of
Logres an I might find it by New Year's morn. Therefore, sir, I make
request of you that ye tell me truly if ye ever heard word of the Green
Chapel, where it may be found, and the Green Knight that keeps it. For I
am pledged by solemn compact sworn between us to meet that knight at
the New Year if so I were on life; and of that same New Year it wants
but little--I'faith, I would look on that hero more joyfully than on any
other fair sight! Therefore, by your will, it behoves me to leave you,
for I have but barely three days, and I would as fain fall dead as fail
of mine errand."
Then the lord quoth, laughing, "Now must ye needs stay, for I will
show you your goal, the Green Chapel, ere your term be at an end, have
ye no fear! But ye can take your ease, friend, in your bed, till the
fourth day, and go forth on the first of the year and come to that place
at mid-morn to do as ye will. Dwell here till New Year's Day, and then
rise and set forth, and ye shall be set in the way; 'tis not two miles
hence."
Then was Gawain glad, and he laughed gaily. "Now I thank you for this
above all else. Now my quest is achieved I will dwell here at your
will, and otherwise do as ye shall ask."
Then the lord took him, and set him beside him, and bade the ladies
be fetched for their greater pleasure, tho' between themselves they had
solace. The lord, for gladness, made merry jest, even as one who wist
not what to do for joy; and he cried aloud to the knight, "Ye have
promised to do the thing I bid ye: will ye hold to this behest, here, at
once?"
"Yea, forsooth," said that true knight, "while I abide in your burg I am bound by your behest."
"Ye have travelled from far," said the host, "and since then ye have
waked with me, ye are not well refreshed by rest and sleep, as I know.
Ye shall therefore abide in your chamber, and lie at your ease tomorrow
at Mass-tide, and go to meat when ye will with my wife, who shall sit
with you, and comfort you with her company till I return; and I shall
rise early and go forth to the chase." And Gawain agreed to all this
courteously.
"Sir knight," quoth the host, "we shall make a covenant. Whatsoever I
win in the wood shall be yours, and whatever may fall to your share,
that shall ye exchange for it. Let us swear, friend, to make this
exchange, however our hap may be, for worse or for better."
"I grant ye your will," quoth Gawain the good; "if ye list so to do, it liketh me well."
"Bring hither the wine-cup, the bargain is made," so said the lord of
that castle. They laughed each one, and drank of the wine, and made
merry, these lords and ladies, as it pleased them. Then with gay talk
and merry jest they arose, and stood, and spoke softly, and kissed
courteously, and took leave of each other. With burning torches, and
many a serving-man, was each led to his couch; yet ere they gat them to
bed the old lord oft repeated their covenant, for he knew well how to
make sport. *****
Full early, ere daylight, the folk rose up; the guests who would
depart called their grooms, and they made them ready, and saddled the
steeds, tightened up the girths, and trussed up their mails. The
knights, all arrayed for riding, leapt up lightly, and took their
bridles, and each rode his way as pleased him best.
The lord of the land was not the last. Ready for the chase, with many
of his men, he ate a sop hastily when he had heard Mass, and then with
blast of the bugle fared forth to the field.
10 He and his nobles were to horse ere daylight glimmered upon the earth.
Then the huntsmen coupled their hounds, unclosed the kennel door, and
called them out. They blew three blasts gaily on the bugles, the hounds
bayed fiercely, and they that would go a-hunting checked and chastised
them. A hundred hunters there were of the best, so I have heard tell.
Then the trackers gat them to the trysting-place and uncoupled the
hounds, and forest rang again with their gay blasts.
At the first sound of the hunt the game quaked for fear, and fled,
trembling, along the vale. They betook them to the heights, but the
liers in wait turned them back with loud cries; the harts they let pass
them, and the stags with their spreading antlers, for the lord had
forbidden that they should be slain, but the hinds and the does they
turned back, and drave down into the valleys. Then might ye see much
shooting of arrows. As the deer fled under the boughs a broad whistling
shaft smote and wounded each sorely, so that, wounded and bleeding, they
fell dying on the banks. The hounds followed swiftly on their tracks,
and hunters, blowing the horn, sped after them with ringing shouts as if
the cliffs burst asunder. What game escaped those that shot was run
down at the outer ring. Thus were they driven on the hills, and harassed
at the waters, so well did the men know their work, and the greyhounds
were so great and swift that they ran them down as fast as the hunters
could slay them. Thus the lord passed the day in mirth and joyfulness,
even to nightfall.
So the lord roamed the woods, and Gawain, that good night, lay ever
a-bed, curtained about, under the costly coverlet, while the daylight
gleamed on the walls. And as he lay half slumbering, he heard a little
sound at the door, and he raised his head, and caught back a corner of
the curtain, and waited to see what it might be. It was the lovely lady,
the lord's wife; she shut the door softly behind her, and turned
towards the bed; and Gawain was shamed, laid him down softly and made as
if he slept. And she came lightly to the bedside, within the curtain,
and sat herself down beside him, to wait till he wakened. The knight lay
there awhile, and marvelled within himself what her coming might
betoken; and he said to himself, "'Twere more seemly if I asked her what
hath brought her hither." Then he made feint to waken, and turned
towards her, and opened his eyes as one astonished, and crossed himself;
and she looked on him laughing, with her cheeks red and white, lovely
to behold, and small smiling lips.
"Good morrow, Sir Gawain," said that fair lady; "ye are but a
careless sleeper, since one can enter thus. Now are ye taken unawares,
and lest ye escape me I shall bind you in your bed; of that be ye
assured!" Laughing, she spake these words.
"Good morrow, fair lady," quoth Gawain blithely. "I will do your
will, as it likes me well. For I yield me readily, and pray your grace,
and that is best, by my faith, since I needs must do so." Thus he jested
again, laughing. "But an ye would, fair lady, grant me this grace that
ye pray your prisoner to rise. I would get me from bed, and array me
better, then could I talk with ye in more comfort."
"Nay, forsooth, fair sir," quoth the lady, "ye shall not rise, I will
rede ye better. I shall keep ye here, since ye can do no other, and
talk with my knight whom I have captured. For I know well that ye are
Sir Gawain, whom all the world worships, wheresoever ye may ride. Your
honour and your courtesy are praised by lords and ladies, by all who
live. Now ye are here and we are alone, my lord and his men are afield;
the serving men in their beds, and my maidens also, and the door shut
upon us. And since in this hour I have him that all men love, I shall
use my time well with speech, while it lasts. Ye are welcome to my
company, for it behoves me in sooth to be your servant."
"In good faith," quoth Gawain, "I think me that I am not him of whom
ye speak, for unworthy am I of such service as ye here proffer. In
sooth, I were glad if I might set myself by word or service to your
pleasure; a pure joy would it be to me!"
"In good faith, Sir Gawain," quoth the gay lady, "the praise and the
prowess that pleases all ladies I lack them not, nor hold them light;
yet are there ladies enough who would liever now have the knight in
their hold, as I have ye here, to dally with your courteous words, to
bring them comfort and to ease their cares, than much of the treasure
and the gold that are theirs. And now, through the grace of Him who
upholds the heavens, I have wholly in my power that which they all
desire!"
Thus the lady, fair to look upon, made him great cheer, and Sir
Gawain, with modest words, answered her again: "Madam," he quoth, "may
Mary requite ye, for in good faith I have found in ye a noble frankness.
Much courtesy have other folk shown me, but the honour they have done
me is naught to the worship of yourself, who knoweth but good."
"By Mary," quoth the lady, "I think otherwise; for were I worth all
the women alive, and had I the wealth of the world in my hand, and might
choose me a lord to my liking, then, for all that I have seen in ye,
Sir Knight, of beauty and courtesy and blithe semblance, and for all
that I have hearkened and hold for true, there should be no knight on
earth to be chosen before ye!"
"Well I wot," quoth Sir Gawain, "that ye have chosen a better; but I
am proud that ye should so prize me, and as your servant do I hold ye my
sovereign, and your knight am I, and may Christ reward ye."
So they talked of many matters till mid-morn was past, and ever the
lady made as though she loved him, and the knight turned her speech
aside. For though she were the brightest of maidens, yet had he forborne
to shew her love for the danger that awaited him, and the blow that
must be given without delay.
Then the lady prayed her leave from him, and he granted it readily.
And she gave [the text reads "have"] him good-day, with laughing glance,
but he must needs marvel at her words:
"Now He that speeds fair speech reward ye this disport; but that ye be Gawain my mind misdoubts me greatly."
"Wherefore?" quoth the knight quickly, fearing lest he had lacked in some courtesy.
And the lady spake: "So true a knight as Gawain is holden, and one so
perfect in courtesy, would never have tarried so long with a lady but
he would of his courtesy have craved a kiss at parting."
Then quoth Gawain, "I wot I will do even as it may please ye, and
kiss at your commandment, as a true knight should who forbears to ask
for fear of displeasure."
At that she came near and bent down and kissed the knight, and each
commended the other to Christ, and she went forth from the chamber
softly.
Then Sir Gawain arose and called his chamberlain and chose his
garments, and when he was ready he gat him forth to Mass, and then went
to meat, and made merry all day till the rising of the moon, and never
had a knight fairer lodging than had he with those two noble ladies, the
elder and the younger.
And even the lord of the land chased the hinds through holt and heath
till eventide, and then with much blowing of bugles and baying of
hounds they bore the game homeward; and by the time daylight was done
all the folk had returned to that fair castle. And when the lord and Sir
Gawain met together, then were they both well pleased. The lord
commanded them all to assemble in the great hall, and the ladies to
descend with their maidens, and there, before them all, he bade the men
fetch in the spoil of the day's hunting, and he called unto Gawain, and
counted the tale of the beasts, and showed them unto him, and said,
"What think ye of this game, Sir Knight? Have I deserved of ye thanks
for my woodcraft?"
"Yea, I wis," quoth the other, "here is the fairest spoil I have seen this seven year in the winter season."
"And all this do I give ye, Gawain," quoth the host, "for by accord of covenant ye may claim it as your own."
"That is sooth," quoth the other, "I grant you that same; and I have
fairly won this within walls, and with as good will do I yield it to
ye." With that he clasped his hands round the lord's neck and kissed him
as courteously as he might. "Take ye here my spoils, no more have I
won; ye should have it freely, though it were greater than this."
"'Tis good," said the host, "gramercy thereof. Yet were I fain to
know where ye won this same favour, and if it were by your own wit?"
"Nay," answered Gawain, "that was not in the bond. Ask me no more: ye
have taken what was yours by right, be content with that."
They laughed and jested together, and sat them down to supper, where
they were served with many dainties; and after supper they sat by the
hearth, and wine was served out to them; and oft in their jesting they
promised to observe on the morrow the same covenant that they had made
before, and whatever chance might betide to exchange their spoil, be it
much or little, when they met at night. Thus they renewed their bargain
before the whole court, and then the night-drink was served, and each
courteously took leave of the other and gat him to bed.
By the time the cock had crowed thrice the lord of the castle had
left his bed; Mass was sung and meat fitly served. The folk were forth
to the wood ere the day broke, with hound and horn they rode over the
plain, and uncoupled their dogs among the thorns. Soon they struck on
the scent, and the hunt cheered on the hounds who were first to seize
it, urging them with shouts. The others hastened to the cry, forty at
once, and there rose such a clamour from the pack that the rocks rang
again. The huntsmen spurred them on with shouting and blasts of the
horn; and the hounds drew together to a thicket betwixt the water and a
high crag in the cliff beneath the hillside. There where the rough rock
fell ruggedly they, the huntsmen, fared to the finding, and cast about
round the hill and the thicket behind them. The knights wist well what
beast was within, and would drive him forth with the bloodhounds. And as
they beat the bushes, suddenly over the beaters there rushed forth a
wondrous great and fierce boar, long since had he left the herd to roam
by himself. Grunting, he cast many to the ground, and fled forth at his
best speed, without more mischief. The men hallooed loudly and cried,
"Hay! Hay!"
and blew the horns to urge on the hounds, and rode swiftly after the
boar. Many a time did he turn to bay and tare the hounds, and they
yelped, and howled shrilly. Then the men made ready their arrows and
shot at him, but the points were turned on his thick hide, and the barbs
would not bite upon him, for the shafts shivered in pieces, and the
head but leapt again wherever it hit.
But when the boar felt the stroke of the arrows he waxed mad with
rage, and turned on the hunters and tare many, so that, affrightened,
they fled before him. But the lord on a swift steed pursued him, blowing
his bugle; as a gallant knight he rode through the woodland chasing the
boar till the sun grew low.
So did the hunters this day, while Sir Gawain lay in his bed lapped
in rich gear; and the lady forgat not to salute him, for early was she
at his side, to cheer his mood.
She came to the bedside and looked on the knight, and Gawain gave her
fit greeting, and she greeted him again with ready words, and sat her
by his side and laughed, and with a sweet look she spoke to him:
"Sir, if ye be Gawain, I think it a wonder that ye be so stern and
cold, and care not for the courtesies of friendship, but if one teach ye
to know them ye cast the lesson out of your mind. Ye have soon
forgotten what I taught ye yesterday, by all the truest tokens that I
knew!"
"What is that?" quoth the knight. "I trow I know not. If it be sooth that ye say, then is the blame mine own."
"But I taught ye of kissing, " quoth the fair lady. "Wherever a fair
countenance is shown him, it behoves a courteous knight quickly to claim
a kiss."
"Nay, my dear," said Sir Gawain, "cease that speech; that durst I not
do lest I were denied, for if I were forbidden I wot I were wrong did I
further entreat."
"I' faith," quoth the lady merrily, "ye may not be forbid, ye are
strong enough to constrain by strength an ye will, were any so
discourteous as to give ye denial."
"Yea, by Heaven," said Gawain, "ye speak well; but threats profit
little in the land where I dwell, and so with a gift that is given not
of good will! I am at your commandment to kiss when ye like, to take or
to leave as ye list."
Then the lady bent her down and kissed him courteously.
And as they spake together she said, "I would learn somewhat from ye,
an ye would not be wroth, for young ye bare and fair, and so courteous
and knightly as ye are known to be, the head of all chivalry, and versed
in all wisdom of love and war--'tis ever told of true knights how they
adventured their lives for their true love, and endured hardships for
her favours, and avenged her with valour, and eased her sorrows, and
brought joy to her bower; and ye are the fairest knight of your time,
and your fame and your honour are everywhere, yet I have sat by ye here
twice, and never a word have I heard of love! Ye who are so courteous
and skilled in such love ought surely to teach one so young and
unskilled some little craft of true love! Why are ye so unlearned who
art otherwise so famous? Or is it that ye deemed me unworthy to hearken
to your teaching? For shame, Sir Knight! I come hither alone and sit at
your side to learn of ye some skill; teach me of your wit, while my lord
is from home."
"In good faith," quoth Gawain, "great is my joy and my profit that so
fair a lady as ye are should deign to come hither, and trouble ye with
so poor a man, and make sport with your knight with kindly countenance,
it pleaseth me much. But that I, in my turn, should take it upon me to
tell of love and such like matters to ye who know more by half, or a
hundred fold, of such craft than I do, or ever shall in all my lifetime,
by my troth 'twere folly indeed! I will work your will to the best of
my might as I am bounden, and evermore will I be your servant, so help
me Christ!"
Then often with guile she questioned that knight that she might win
him to woo her, but he defended himself so fairly that none might in any
wise blame him, and naught but bliss and harmless jesting was there
between them. They laughed and talked together till at last she kissed
him, and craved her leave of him, and went her way.
Then the knight arose and went forth to Mass, and afterward dinner
was served and he sat and spake with the ladies all day. But the lord of
the castle rode ever over the land chasing the wild boar, that fled
through the thickets, slaying the best of his hounds and breaking their
backs in sunder; till at last he was so weary he might run no longer,
but made for a hole in a mound by a rock. He got the mound at his back
and faced the hounds, whetting his white tusks and foaming at the mouth.
The huntsmen stood aloof, fearing to draw nigh him; so many of them had
been already wounded that they were loth to be torn with his tusks, so
fierce he was and mad with rage. At length the lord himself came up, and
saw the beast at bay, and the men standing aloof. Then quickly he
sprang to the ground and drew out a bright blade, and waded through the
stream to the boar.
When the beast was aware of the knight with weapon in hand, he set up
his bristles and snorted loudly, and many feared for their lord lest he
should be slain. Then the boar leapt upon the knight so that beast and
man were one atop of the other in the water; but the boar had the worst
of it, for the man had marked, even as he sprang, and set the point of
his brand to the beast's chest, and drove it up to the hilt, so that the
heart was split in twain, and the boar fell snarling, and was swept
down by the water to where a hundred hounds seized on him, and the men
drew him to shore for the dogs to slay.
Then was there loud blowing of horns and baying of hounds, the
huntsmen smote off the boar's head, and hung the carcase by the four
feet to a stout pole, and so went on their way homewards. The head they
bore before the lord himself, who had slain the beast at the ford by
force of his strong hand.
It seemed him o'er long ere he saw Sir Gawain in the hall, and he
called, and the guest came to take that which fell to his share. And
when he saw Gawain the lord laughed aloud, and bade them call the ladies
and the household together, and he showed them the game, and told them
the tale, how they hunted the wild boar through the woods, and of his
length and breadth and height; and Sir Gawain commended his deeds and
praised him for his valour, well proven, for so mighty a beast had he
never seen before.
Then they handled the huge head, and the lord said aloud, "Now,
Gawain, this game is your own by sure covenant, as ye right well know."
"'Tis sooth," quoth the knight, "and as truly will I give ye all I
have gained." He took the host round the neck, and kissed him
courteously twice. "Now are we quits," he said, "this eventide, of all
the covenants that we made since I came hither."
And the lord answered, "By S. Giles, ye are the best I know; ye will be rich in a short space if ye drive such bargains!"
Then they set up the tables on trestles, and covered them with fair
cloths, and lit waxen tapers on the walls. The knights sat and were
served in the hall, and much game and glee was there round the hearth,
with many songs, both at supper and after; song of Christmas, and new
carols, with all the mirth one may think of. And ever that lovely lady
sat by the knight, and with still stolen looks made such feint of
pleasing him, that Gawain marvelled much, and was wroth with himself,
but he could not for his courtesy return her fair glances, but dealt
with her cunningly, however she might strive to wrest the thing.
When they had tarried in the hall so long as it seemed them good,
they turned to the inner chamber and the wide hearthplace, and there
they drank wine, and the host proffered to renew the covenant for New
Year's Eve; but the knight craved leave to depart on the morrow, for it
was nigh to the term when he must fulfil his pledge. But the lord would
withhold him from so doing, and prayed him to tarry, and said,
"As I am a true knight I swear my troth that ye shall come to the
Green Chapel to achieve your task on New Year's morn, long before prime.
Therefore abide ye in your bed, and I will hunt in this wood, and hold
ye to the covenant to exchange with me against all the spoil I may bring
hither. For twice have I tried ye, and found ye true, and the morrow
shall be the third time and the best. Make we merry now while we may,
and think on joy, for misfortune may take a man whensoever it wills."
Then Gawain granted his request, and they brought them drink, and they gat them with lights to bed.
Sir Gawain lay and slept softly, but the lord, who was keen on
woodcraft, was afoot early. After Mass he and his men ate a morsel, and
he asked for his steed; all the knights who should ride with him were
already mounted before the hall gates.
'Twas a fair frosty morning, for the sun rose red in ruddy vapour,
and the welkin was clear of clouds. The hunters scattered them by a
forest side, and the rocks rang again with the blast of their horns.
Some came on the scent of a fox, and a hound gave tongue; the huntsmen
shouted, and the pack followed in a crowd on the trail. The fox ran
before them, and when they saw him they pursued him with noise and much
shouting, and he wound and turned through many a thick grove, often
cowering and hearkening in a hedge. At last by a little ditch he leapt
out of a spinney, stole away slily by a copse path, and so out of the
wood and away from the hounds. But he went, ere he wist, to a chosen
tryst, and three started forth on him at once, so he must needs double
back, and betake him to the wood again.
Then was it joyful to hearken to the hounds; when all the pack had
met together and had sight of their game they made as loud a din as if
all the lofty cliffs had fallen clattering together. The huntsmen
shouted and threatened, and followed close upon him so that he might
scarce escape, but Reynard was wily, and he turned and doubled upon
them, and led the lord and his men over the hills, now on the slopes,
now in the vales, while the knight at home slept through the cold
morning beneath his costly curtains.
But the fair lady of the castle rose betimes, and clad herself in a
rich mantle that reached even to the ground, left her throat and her
fair neck bare, and was bordered and lined with costly furs. On her head
she wore no golden circlet, but a network of precious stones, that
gleamed and shone through her tresses in clusters of twenty together.
Thus she came into the chamber, closed the door after her, and set open a
window, and called to him gaily, "Sir Knight, how may ye sleep? The
morning is so fair."
Sir Gawain was deep in slumber, and in his dream he vexed him much
for the destiny that should befall him on the morrow, when he should
meet the knight at the Green Chapel, and abide his blow; but when the
lady spake he heard her, and came to himself, and roused from his dream
and answered swiftly. The lady came laughing, and kissed him
courteously, and he welcomed her fittingly with a cheerful countenance.
He saw her so glorious and gaily dressed, so faultless of features and
complexion, that it warmed his heart to look upon her.
They spake to each other smiling, and all was bliss and good cheer
between them. They exchanged fair words, and much happiness was therein,
yet was there a gulf between them, and she might win no more of her
knight, for that gallant prince watched well his words--he would neither
take her love, nor frankly refuse it. He cared for his courtesy, lest
he be deemed churlish, and yet more for his honour lest he be traitor to
his host. "God forbid," quoth he to himself, "that it should so
befall." Thus with courteous words did he set aside all the special
speeches that came from her lips.
Then spake the lady to the knight, "Ye deserve blame if ye hold not
that lady who sits beside ye above all else in the world, if ye have not
already a love whom ye hold dearer, and like better, and have sworn
such firm faith to that lady that ye care not to loose it--and that am I
now fain to believe. And now I pray ye straitly that ye tell me that in
truth, and hide it not."
And the knight answered, "By S. John" (and he smiled as he spake) "no such love have I, nor do I think to have yet awhile."
"That is the worst word I may hear," quoth the lady, "but in sooth I
have mine answer; kiss me now courteously, and I will go hence; I can
but mourn as a maiden that loves much."
Sighing, she stooped down and kissed him, and then she rose up and
spake as she stood, "Now, dear, at our parting do me this grace: give me
some gift, if it were but thy glove, that I may bethink me of my
knight, and lessen my mourning."
"Now, I wis," quoth the knight, "I would that I had here the most
precious thing that I possess on earth that I might leave ye as
love-token, great or small, for ye have deserved forsooth more reward
than I might give ye. But it is not to your honour to have at this time a
glove for reward as gift from Gawain, and I am here on a strange
errand, and have no man with me, nor mails with goodly things--that
mislikes me much, lady, at this time; but each man must fare as he is
taken, if for sorrow and ill."
"Nay, knight highly honoured," quoth that lovesome lady, "though I
have naught of yours, yet shall ye have somewhat of mine." With that she
reached him a ring of red gold with a sparkling stone therein, that
shone even as the sun (wit ye well, it was worth many marks); but the
knight refused it, and spake readily,
"I will take no gift, lady, at this time. I have none to give, and none will I take."
She prayed him to take it, but he refused her prayer, and sware in sooth that he would not have it.
The lady was sorely vexed, and said, "If ye refuse my ring as too
costly, that ye will not be so highly beholden to me, I will give you my
girdle
11
as a lesser gift." With that she loosened a lace that was fastened at
her side, knit upon her kirtle under her mantle. It was wrought of green
silk, and gold, only braided by the fingers, and that she offered to
the knight, and besought him though it were of little worth that he
would take it, and he said nay, he would touch neither gold nor gear ere
God give him grace to achieve the adventure for which he had come
hither. "And therefore, I pray ye, displease ye not, and ask me no
longer, for I may not grant it. I am dearly beholden to ye for the
favour ye have shown me, and ever, in heat and cold, will I be your true
servant."
"Now," said the lady, "ye refuse this silk, for it is simple in
itself, and so it seems, indeed; lo, it is small to look upon and less
in cost, but whoso knew the virtue that is knit therein he would,
peradventure, value it more highly. For whatever knight is girded with
this green lace, while he bears it knotted about him there is no man
under heaven can overcome him, for he may not be slain for any magic on
earth."
Then Gawain bethought him, and it came into his heart that this were a
jewel for the jeopardy that awaited him when he came to the Green
Chapel to seek the return blow--could he so order it that he should
escape unslain, 'twere a craft worth trying. Then he bare with her
chiding, and let her say her say, and she pressed the girdle on him and
prayed him to take it, and he granted her prayer, and she gave it him
with good will, and besought him for her sake never to reveal it but to
hide it loyally from her lord; and the knight agreed that never should
any man know it, save they two alone. He thanked her often and heartily,
and she kissed him for the third time.
Then she took her leave of him, and when she was gone Sir Gawain
arose, and clad him in rich attire, and took the girdle, and knotted it
round him, and hid it beneath his robes. Then he took his way to the
chapel, and sought out a priest privily and prayed him to teach him
better how his soul might be saved when he should go hence; and there he
shrived him, and showed his misdeeds, both great and small, and
besought mercy and craved absolution; and the priest assoiled him, and
set him as clean as if Doomsday had been on the morrow. And afterwards
Sir Gawain made him merry with the ladies, with carols, and all kinds of
joy, as never he did but that one day, even to nightfall; and all the
men marvelled at him, and said that never since he came thither had he
been so merry.
Meanwhile the lord of the castle was abroad chasing the fox; awhile
he lost him, and as he rode through a spinny he heard the hounds near at
hand, and Reynard came creeping through a thick grove, with all the
pack at his heels. Then the lord drew out his shining brand, and cast it
at the beast, and the fox swerved aside for the sharp edge, and would
have doubled back, but a hound was on him ere he might turn, and right
before the horse's feet they all fell on him, and worried him fiercely,
snarling the while.
Then the lord leapt from his saddle, and caught the fox from the
jaws, and held it aloft over his head, and hallooed loudly, and many
brave hounds bayed as they beheld it; and the hunters hied them thither,
blowing their horns; all that bare bugles blew them at once, and all
the others shouted. 'Twas the merriest meeting that ever men heard, the
clamour that was raised at the death of the fox. They rewarded the
hounds, stroking them and rubbing their heads, and took Reynard and
stripped him of his coat; then blowing their horns, they turned them
homewards, for it was nigh nightfall.
The lord was gladsome at his return, and found a bright fire on the
hearth, and the knight beside it, the good Sir Gawain, who was in joyous
mood for the pleasure he had had with the ladies. He wore a robe of
blue, that reached even to the ground, and a surcoat richly furred, that
became him well. A hood like to the surcoat fell on his shoulders, and
all alike were done about with fur. He met the host in the midst of the
floor, and jesting, he greeted him, and said, "Now shall I be first to
fulfil our covenant which we made together when there was no lack of
wine." Then he embraced the knight, and kissed him thrice, as solemnly
as he might.
"Of a sooth," quoth the other, "ye have good luck in the matter of this covenant, if ye made a good exchange!"
"Yea, it matters naught of the exchange," quoth Gawain, "since what I owe is swiftly paid."
"Marry," said the other, "mine is behind, for I have hunted all this
day, and naught have I got but this foul fox-skin, and that is but poor
payment for three such kisses as ye have here given me."
"Enough," quoth Sir Gawain, "I thank ye, by the Rood."
Then the lord told them of his hunting, and how the fox had been slain.
With mirth and minstrelsy, and dainties at their will, they made them
as merry as a folk well might till 'twas time for them to sever, for at
last they must needs betake them to their beds. Then the knight took
his leave of the lord, and thanked him fairly.
"For the fair sojourn that I have had here at this high feast may the
High King give ye honour. I give ye myself, as one of your servants, if
ye so like; for I must needs, as you know, go hence with the morn, and
ye will give me, as ye promised, a guide to show me the way to the Green
Chapel, an God will suffer me on New Year's Day to deal the doom of my
weird."
"By my faith," quoth the host, "all that ever I promised, that shall I
keep with good will." Then he gave him a servant to set him in the way,
and lead him by the downs, that he should have no need to ford the
stream, and should fare by the shortest road through the groves; and
Gawain thanked the lord for the honour done him. Then he would take
leave of the ladies, and courteously he kissed them, and spake, praying
them to receive his thanks, and they made like reply; then with many
sighs they commended him to Christ, and he departed courteously from
that folk. Each man that he met he thanked him for his service and his
solace, and the pains he had been at to do his will; and each found it
as hard to part from the knight as if he had ever dwelt with him.
Then they led him with torches to his chamber, and brought him to his
bed to rest. That he slept soundly I may not say, for the morrow gave
him much to think on. Let him rest awhile, for he was near that which he
sought, and if ye will but listen to me I will tell ye how it fared
with him thereafter. *****
Now the New Year drew nigh, and the night passed, and the day chased
the darkness, as is God's will; but wild weather wakened therewith. The
clouds cast the cold to the earth, with enough of the north to slay them
that lacked clothing. The snow drave smartly, and the whistling wind
blew from the heights, and made great drifts in the valleys. The knight,
lying in his bed, listened, for though his eyes were shut, he might
sleep but little, and hearkened every cock that crew.
He arose ere the day broke, by the light of a lamp that burned in his
chamber, and called to his chamberlain, bidding him bring his armour
and saddle his steed. The other gat him up, and fetched his garments,
and robed Sir Gawain.
First he clad him in his clothes to keep off the cold, and then in
his harness, which was well and fairly kept. Both hauberk and plates
were well burnished, the rings of the rich byrny freed from rust, and
all as fresh as at first, so that the knight was fain to thank them.
Then he did on each piece, and bade them bring his steed, while he put
the fairest raiment on himself; his coat with its fair cognizance,
adorned with precious stones upon velvet, with broidered seams, and all
furred within with costly skins. And he left not the lace, the lady's
gift, that Gawain forgot not, for his own good. When he had girded on
his sword he wrapped the gift twice about him, swathed around his waist.
The girdle of green silk set gaily and well upon the royal red cloth,
rich to behold, but the knight ware it not for pride of the pendants,
polished though they were with fair gold that gleamed brightly on the
ends, but to save himself from sword and knife, when it behoved him to
abide his hurt without question. With that the hero went forth, and
thanked that kindly folk full often.
Then was Gringalet ready, that was great and strong, and had been
well cared for and tended in every wise; in fair condition was that
proud steed, and fit for a journey. Then Gawain went to him, and looked
on his coat, and said by his sooth, "There is a folk in this place that
thinketh on honour; much joy may they have, and the lord who maintains
them, and may all good betide that lovely lady all her life long. Since
they for charity cherish a guest, and hold honour in their hands, may He
who holds the heaven on high requite them, and also ye all. And if I
might live anywhere on earth, I would give ye full reward, readily, if
so I might." Then he set foot in the stirrup and bestrode his steed, and
his squire gave him his shield, which he laid on his shoulder. Then he
smote Gringalet with his golden spurs, and the steed pranced on the
stones and would stand no longer.
By that his man was mounted, who bare his spear and lance, and Gawain
quoth, "I commend this castle to Christ, may He give it ever good
fortune." Then the drawbridge was let down, and the broad gates unbarred
and opened on both sides; the knight crossed himself, and passed
through the gateway, and praised the porter, who knelt before the
prince, and gave him good-day, and commended him to God. Thus the knight
went on his way with the one man who should guide him to that dread
place where he should receive rueful payment.
The two went by hedges where the boughs were bare, and climbed the
cliffs where the cold clings. Naught fell from the heavens, but 'twas
ill beneath them; mist brooded over the moor and hung on the mountains;
each hill had a cap, a great cloak, of mist. The streams foamed and
bubbled between their banks, dashing sparkling on the shores where they
shelved downwards. Rugged and dangerous was the way through the woods,
till it was time for the sun-rising. Then were they on a high hill; the
snow lay white beside them, and the man who rode with Gawain drew rein
by his master.
"Sir," he said, "I have brought ye hither, and now ye are not far
from the place that ye have sought so specially. But I will tell ye for
sooth, since I know ye well, and ye are such a knight as I well love,
would ye follow my counsel ye would fare the better. The place whither
ye go is accounted full perilous, for he who liveth in that waste is the
worst on earth, for he is strong and fierce, and loveth to deal mighty
blows; taller is he than any man on earth, and greater of frame than any
four in Arthur's court, or in any other. And this is his custom at the
Green Chapel; there may no man pass by that place, however proud his
arms, but he does him to death by force of his hand, for he is a
discourteous knight, and shews no mercy. Be he churl or chaplain who
rides by that chapel, monk or mass priest, or any man else, he thinks it
as pleasant to slay them as to pass alive himself. Therefore, I tell
ye, as sooth as ye sit in saddle, if ye come there and that knight know
it, ye shall be slain, though ye had twenty lives; trow me that truly!
He has dwelt here full long and seen many a combat; ye may not defend ye
against his blows. Therefore, good Sir Gawain, let the man be, and get
ye away some other road; for God's sake seek ye another land, and there
may Christ speed ye! And I will hie me home again, and I promise ye
further that I will swear by God and the saints, or any other oath ye
please, that I will keep counsel faithfully, and never let any wit the
tale that ye fled for fear of any man."
"Gramercy," quoth Gawain, but ill-pleased. "Good fortune be his who
wishes me good, and that thou wouldst keep faith with me I will believe;
but didst thou keep it never so truly, an I passed here and fled for
fear as thou sayest, then were I a coward knight, and might not be held
guiltless. So I will to the chapel let chance what may, and talk with
that man, even as I may list, whether for weal or for woe as fate may
have it. Fierce though he may be in fight, yet God knoweth well how to
save His servants."
"Well," quoth the other, "now that ye have said so much that ye will
take your own harm on yourself, and ye be pleased to lose your life, I
will neither let nor keep ye. Have here your helm and the spear in your
hand, and ride down this same road beside the rock till ye come to the
bottom of the valley, and there look a little to the left hand, and ye
shall see in that vale the chapel, and the grim man who keeps it. Now
fare ye well, noble Gawain; for all the gold on earth I would not go
with ye nor bear ye fellowship one step further." With that the man
turned his bridle into the wood, smote the horse with his spurs as hard
as he could, and galloped off, leaving the knight alone.
Quoth Gawain, "I will neither greet nor groan, but commend myself to God, and yield me to His will."
Then the knight spurred Gringalet, and rode adown the path close in
by a bank beside a grove. So he rode through the rough thicket, right
into the dale, and there he halted, for it seemed him wild enough. No
sign of a chapel could he see, but high and burnt banks on either side
and rough rugged crags with great stones above. An ill-looking place he
thought it.
Then he drew in his horse and looked around to seek the chapel, but
he saw none and thought it strange. Then he saw as it were a mound on a
level space of land by a bank beside the stream where it ran swiftly,
the water bubbled within as if boiling. The knight turned his steed to
the mound, and lighted down and tied the rein to the branch of a linden;
and he turned to the mound and walked round it, questioning with
himself what it might be. It had a hole at the end and at either side,
and was overgrown with clumps of grass, and it was hollow within as an
old cave or the crevice of a crag; he knew not what it might be.
"Ah," quoth Gawain, "can this be the Green Chapel? Here might the
devil say his mattins at midnight! Now I wis there is wizardry here.
'Tis an ugly oratory, all overgrown with grass, and 'twould well beseem
that fellow in green to say his devotions on devil's wise. Now feel I in
five wits, 'tis the foul fiend himself who hath set me this tryst, to
destroy me here! This is a chapel of mischance: ill-luck betide it, 'tis
the cursedest kirk that ever I came in!"
Helmet on head and lance in hand, he came up to the rough dwelling,
when he heard over the high hill beyond the brook, as it were in a bank,
a wondrous fierce noise, that rang in the cliff as if it would cleave
asunder. 'Twas as if one ground a scythe on a grindstone, it whirred and
whetted like water on a mill-wheel and rushed and rang, terrible to
hear.
"By God," quoth Gawain, "I trow that gear is preparing for the knight
who will meet me here. Alas! naught may help me, yet should my life be
forfeit, I fear not a jot!" With that he called aloud. "Who waiteth in
this place to give me tryst? Now is Gawain come hither: if any man will
aught of him let him hasten hither now or never."
"Stay," quoth one on the bank above his head, "and ye shall speedily
have that which I promised ye." Yet for a while the noise of whetting
went on ere he appeared, and then he came forth from a cave in the crag
with a fell weapon, a Danish axe newly dight, wherewith to deal the
blow. An evil head it had, four feet large, no less, sharply ground, and
bound to the handle by the lace that gleamed brightly. And the knight
himself was all green as before, face and foot, locks and beard, but now
he was afoot. When he came to the water he would not wade it, but
sprang over with the pole of his axe, and strode boldly over the brent
that was white with snow.
Sir Gawain went to meet him, but he made no low bow. The other said,
"Now, fair sir, one may trust thee to keep tryst. Thou art welcome,
Gawain, to my place. Thou hast timed thy coming as befits a true man.
Thou knowest the covenant set between us: at this time twelve months
agone thou didst take that which fell to thee, and I at this New Year
will readily requite thee. We are in this valley, verily alone, here are
no knights to sever us, do what we will. Have off thy helm from thine
head, and have here thy pay; make me no more talking than I did then
when thou didst strike off my head with one blow."
"Nay," quoth Gawain, "by God that gave me life, I shall make no moan
whatever befall me, but make thou ready for the blow and I shall stand
still and say never a word to thee, do as thou wilt."
With that he bent his head and shewed his neck all bare, and made as if he had no fear, for he would not be thought a-dread.
Then the Green Knight made him ready, and grasped his grim weapon to
smite Gawain. With all his force he bore it aloft with a mighty feint of
slaying him: had it fallen as straight as he aimed he who was ever
doughty of deed had been slain by the blow. But Gawain swerved aside as
the axe came gliding down to slay him as he stood, and shrank a little
with the shoulders, for the sharp iron. The other heaved up the blade
and rebuked the prince with many proud words:
"Thou art not Gawain," he said, "who is held so valiant, that never feared he man by hill or vale, but
thou shrinkest for fear ere thou feelest hurt. Such cowardice did I never hear of Gawain! Neither did
I
flinch from thy blow, or make strife in King Arthur's hall. My head
fell to my feet, and yet I fled not; but thou didst wax faint of heart
ere any harm befell. Wherefore must I be deemed the braver knight."
Quoth Gawain, "I shrank once, but so will I no more, though an
my
head fall on the stones I cannot replace it. But haste, Sir Knight, by
thy faith, and bring me to the point, deal me my destiny, and do it out
of hand, for I will stand thee a stroke and move no more till thine axe
have hit me--my troth on it."
"Have at thee, then," quoth the other, and heaved aloft the axe with
fierce mien, as if he were mad. He struck at him fiercely but wounded
him not, withholding his hand ere it might strike him.
Gawain abode the stroke, and flinched in no limb, but stood still as a
stone or the stump of a tree that is fast rooted in the rocky ground
with a hundred roots.
Then spake gaily the man in green, "So now thou hast thine heart
whole it behoves me to smite. Hold aside thy hood that Arthur gave thee,
and keep thy neck thus bent lest it cover it again."
Then Gawain said angrily, "Why talk on thus? Thou dost threaten too long. I hope thy heart misgives thee."
"For sooth," quoth the other, "so fiercely thou speakest I will no
longer let thine errand wait its reward." Then he braced himself to
strike, frowning with lips and brow, 'twas no marvel that it pleased but
ill him who hoped for no rescue. He lifted the axe lightly and let it
fall with the edge of the blade on the bare neck. Though he struck
swiftly it hurt him no more than on the one side where it severed the
skin. The sharp blade cut into the flesh so that the blood ran over his
shoulder to the ground. And when the knight saw the blood staining the
snow, he sprang forth, swift-foot, more than a spear's length, seized
his helmet and set it on his head, cast his shield over his shoulder,
drew out his bright sword, and spake boldly (never since he was born was
he half so blithe), "Stop, Sir Knight, bid me no more blows. I have
stood a stroke here without flinching, and if thou give me another, I
shall requite thee, and give thee as good again. By the covenant made
betwixt us in Arthur's hall but one blow falls to me here. Halt,
therefore."
Then the Green Knight drew off from him and leaned on his axe,
setting the shaft on the ground, and looked on Gawain as he stood all
armed and faced him fearlessly--at heart it pleased him well. Then he
spake merrily in a loud voice, and said to the knight, "Bold sir, be not
so fierce, no man here hath done thee wrong, nor will do, save by
covenant, as we made at Arthur's court. I promised thee a blow and thou
hast it--hold thyself well paid! I release thee of all other claims. If I
had been so minded I might perchance have given thee a rougher buffet.
First I menaced thee with a feigned one, and hurt thee not for the
covenant that we made in the first night, and which thou didst hold
truly. All the gain didst thou give me as a true man should. The other
feint I proffered thee for the morrow: my fair wife kissed thee, and
thou didst give me her kisses--for both those days I gave thee two blows
without scathe--true man, true return. But the third time thou didst
fail, and therefore hadst thou that blow. For 'tis
my weed thou
wearest, that same woven girdle, my own wife wrought it, that do I wot
for sooth. Now know I well thy kisses, and thy conversation, and the
wooing of my wife, for 'twas mine own doing. I sent her to try thee, and
in sooth I think thou art the most faultless knight that ever trode
earth. As a pearl among white peas is of more worth than they, so is
Gawain, i' faith, by other knights. But thou didst lack a little, Sir
Knight, and wast wanting in loyalty, yet that was for no evil work, nor
for wooing neither, but because thou lovedst thy life--therefore I blame
thee the less."
Then the other stood a great while, still sorely angered and vexed
within himself; all the blood flew to his face, and he shrank for shame
as the Green Knight spake; and the first words he said were, "Cursed be
ye, cowardice and covetousness, for in ye is the destruction of virtue."
Then he loosed the girdle, and gave it to the knight. "Lo, take there
the falsity, may foul befall it! For fear of thy blow cowardice bade me
make friends with covetousness and forsake the customs of largess and
loyalty, which befit all knights. Now am I faulty and false and have
been afeared: from treachery and untruth come sorrow and care. I avow to
thee, Sir Knight, that I have ill done; do then thy will. I shall be
more wary hereafter."
Then the other laughed and said gaily, "I wot I am whole of the hurt I
had, and thou hast made such free confession of thy misdeeds, and hast
so borne the penance of mine axe edge, that I hold thee absolved from
that sin, and purged as clean as if thou hadst never sinned since thou
wast born. And this girdle that is wrought with gold and green, like my
raiment, do I give thee, Sir Gawain, that thou mayest think upon this
chance when thou goest forth among princes of renown, and keep this for a
token of the adventure of the Green Chapel, as it chanced between
chivalrous knights. And thou shalt come again with me to my dwelling and
pass the rest of this feast in gladness." Then the lord laid hold of
him, and said, "I wot we shall soon make peace with my wife, who was thy
bitter enemy."
"Nay, forsooth," said Sir Gawain, and seized his helmet and took it
off swiftly, and thanked the knight: "I have fared ill, may bliss betide
thee, and may He who rules all things reward thee swiftly. Commend me
to that courteous lady, thy fair wife, and to the other my honoured
ladies, who have beguiled their knight with skilful craft. But 'tis no
marvel if one be made a fool and brought to sorrow by women's wiles, for
so was Adam beguiled by one, and Solomon by many, and Samson all too
soon, for Delilah dealt him his doom; and David thereafter was wedded
with Bathsheba, which brought him much sorrow--if one might love a woman
and believe her not, 'twere great gain! And since all they were
beguiled by women, methinks 'tis the less blame to me that I was misled!
But as for thy girdle, that will I take with good will, not for gain of
the gold, nor for samite, nor silk, nor the costly pendants, neither
for weal nor for worship, but in sign of my frailty. I shall look upon
it when I ride in renown and remind myself of the fault and faintness of
the flesh; and so when pride uplifts me for prowess of arms, the sight
of this lace shall humble my heart. But one thing would I pray, if it
displease thee not: since thou art lord of yonder land wherein I have
dwelt, tell me what thy rightful name may be, and I will ask no more."
"That will I truly," quoth the other. "Bernlak de Hautdesert am I called in this land. Morgain le Fay dwelleth in mine house
12,
and through knowledge of clerkly craft hath she taken many. For long
time was she the mistress of Merlin, who knew well all you knights of
the court. Morgain the goddess is she called therefore, and there is
none so haughty but she can bring him low. She sent me in this guise to
yon fair hall to test the truth of the renown that is spread abroad of
the valour of the Round Table. She taught me this marvel to betray your
wits, to vex Guinevere and fright her to death by the man who spake with
his head in his hand at the high table. That is she who is at home,
that ancient lady, she is even thine aunt, Arthur's half-sister, the
daughter of the Duchess of Tintagel, who afterward married King Uther.
Therefore I bid thee, knight, come to thine aunt, and make merry in
thine house; my folk love thee, and I wish thee as well as any man on
earth, by my faith, for thy true dealing."
But Sir Gawain said nay, he would in no wise do so; so they embraced
and kissed, and commended each other to the Prince of Paradise, and
parted right there, on the cold ground. Gawain on his steed rode swiftly
to the king's hall, and the Green Knight got him whithersoever he
would.
Sir Gawain who had thus won grace of his life, rode through wild ways
on Gringalet; oft he lodged in a house, and oft without, and many
adventures did he have and came off victor full often, as at this time I
cannot relate in tale. The hurt that he had in his neck was healed, he
bare the shining girdle as a baldric bound by his side, and made fast
with a knot 'neath his left arm, in token that he was taken in a
fault--and thus he came in safety again to the court.
Then joy awakened in that dwelling when the king knew that the good
Sir Gawain was come, for he deemed it gain. King Arthur kissed the
knight, and the queen also, and many valiant knights sought to embrace
him. They asked him how he had fared, and he told them all that had
chanced to him--the adventure of the chapel, the fashion of the knight,
the love of the lady--at last of the lace. He showed them the wound in
the neck which he won for his disloyalty at the hand of the knight, the
blood flew to his face for shame as he told the tale.
"Lo, lady," he quoth, and handled the lace, "this is the bond of the
blame that I bear in my neck, this is the harm and the loss I have
suffered, the cowardice and covetousness in which I was caught, the
token of my covenant in which I was taken. And I must needs wear it so
long as I live, for none may hide his harm, but undone it may not be,
for if it hath clung to thee once, it may never be severed."
Then the king comforted the knight, and the court laughed loudly at
the tale, and all made accord that the lords and the ladies who belonged
to the Round Table, each hero among them, should wear bound about him a
baldric of bright green for the sake of Sir Gawain.
13
And to this was agreed all the honour of the Round Table, and he who
ware it was honoured the more thereafter, as it is testified in the best
book of romance. That in Arthur's days this adventure befell, the book
of Brutus bears witness. For since that bold knight came hither first,
and the siege and the assault were ceased at Troy, I wis
Many a venture herebefore
Hath fallen such as this:
May He that bare the crown of thorn
Bring us unto His bliss.
Amen.
