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<p class="center"><span class="large"><b>ARTHURIAN ROMANCES
<br/>Unrepresented in Malory’s “Morte d’Arthur”</b></span></p>
<h1><i>No. I</i> <br/>Sir Gawain and the <br/>Green Knight</h1>
<p class="tb">A Middle-English Arthurian Romance
<i>Retold in Modern Prose, with Introduction
& Notes</i>, by Jessie L. Weston,
<i>Translator</i> of Wolfram von Eschenbach’s
“Parzival” • <i>With Designs by</i>
M. M. Crawford</p>
<p class="tb">London: David Nutt in the Strand
<br/><span class="small">mdcccxcviii</span></p>
</div>
<div class="pb" id="Page_v">v</div>
<h2><span class="small">Preface</span></h2>
<p>The poem of which the following pages
offer a prose rendering is contained in a
MS., believed to be unique, of the Cottonian
Collection, Nero A. X., preserved
in the British Museum. The MS. is of
the end of the fourteenth century, but it
is possible that the composition of the
poem is somewhat earlier; the subject
matter is certainly of very old date.
There has been a considerable divergence
of opinion among scholars on the question
of authorship, but the view now
generally accepted is that it is the work
of the same hand as <i>Pearl</i>, another poem
<span class="pb" id="Page_vi">vi</span>
of considerable merit contained in the
same MS.</p>
<p>Our poem, or, to speak more correctly,
metrical romance, contains over 2500 lines,
and is composed in staves of varying length,
ending in five short rhyming lines, technically
known as a bob and a wheel,—the
lines forming the body of the stave being
not rhyming, but alliterative. The dialect
in which it is written has been decided to
be West Midland, probably Lancashire,
and is by no means easy to understand.
Indeed, it is the real difficulty and obscurity
of the language, which in spite of careful
and scholarly editing will always place the
poem in its original form outside the range
of any but professed students of mediæval
literature, which has encouraged me to make
an attempt to render it more accessible to
the general public, by giving it a form that
shall be easily intelligible, and at the same
time preserve as closely as possible the style
of the author.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_vii">vii</div>
<p>For that style, in spite of a certain roughness,
unavoidable at a period in which the
language was still in a partially developed
and amorphous stage, is really charming.
The author has a keen eye for effect; a
talent for description, detailed without becoming
wearisome; a genuine love of
Nature and sympathy with her varying
moods; and a real refinement and elevation
of feeling which enable him to deal with a
<i>risqué</i> situation with an absence of coarseness,
not, unfortunately, to be always met
with in a mediæval writer. Standards of
taste vary with the age, but even judged
by that of our own day the author of <i>Sir
Gawain and the Green Knight</i> comes not
all too badly out of the ordeal!</p>
<p>The story with which the poem deals,
too, has claims upon our interest. I have
shown elsewhere<SPAN class="fn" id="fr_a" href="#fn_a">[a]</SPAN> that the beheading
challenge is an incident of very early
<span class="pb" id="Page_viii">viii</span>
occurrence in heroic legend, and that the
particular form given to it in the English
poem is especially interesting, corresponding
as it does to the variations of the story
as preserved in the oldest known version,
that of the old Irish <i>Fled Bricrend</i>.</p>
<div class="fndef"><SPAN class="fn" id="fn_a" href="#fr_a">[a]</SPAN>“The Legend of Sir Gawain,” Grimm Library, Vol.
VII. (Chapter IX. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight).</div>
<p>But in no other version is the incident
coupled with that of a temptation and
testing of the hero’s honour and chastity,
such as meets us here. At first sight one
is inclined to assign the episode of the lady
of the castle to the class of stories of which
the oldest version is preserved in Biblical
record—the story of Joseph and Potiphar’s
wife; a <i>motif</i> not unseldom employed by
mediæval writers, and which notably occurs
in what we may call the <i>Launfal</i> group
of stories. But there are certain points
which may make us hesitate as to whether
in its first conception the tale was really
one of this class.</p>
<p>It must be noted that here the lady is
acting throughout with the knowledge and
<span class="pb" id="Page_ix">ix</span>
consent of the husband, an important point
of difference. In the second place, it is
very doubtful whether her entire attitude
was not a <i>ruse</i>. From the Green Knight’s
words to Gawain when he finally reveals
himself, “I wot we shall soon make peace
with my wife, who was thy bitter enemy,”
her conduct hardly seems to have been
prompted by real passion.</p>
<p>In my <i>Studies on the Legend of Sir
Gawain</i>, already referred to, I have suggested
that the character of the lady here
is, perhaps, a reminiscence of that of the
Queen of the Magic Castle or Isle, daughter
or niece of an enchanter, who at an early
stage of Gawain’s story was undoubtedly
his love. I think it not impossible that
she was an integral part of the tale as first
told, and her rôle here was determined by
that which she originally played. In most
versions of the story she has dropped out
altogether. It is, of course, possible that,
there being but a confused reminiscence of
<span class="pb" id="Page_x">x</span>
the original tale, her share <i>may</i> have been
modified by the influence of the <i>Launfal</i>
group; but I should prefer to explain the
episode on the whole as a somewhat distorted
survival of an original feature.</p>
<p>But in any case we may be thankful for
this, that the author of the most important
English metrical romance dealing with
Arthurian legend faithfully adheres to the
original conception of Gawain’s character,
as drawn before the monkish lovers of
edification laid their ruthless hands on his
legend, and turned the model of knightly
virtues and courtesy into a mere vulgar
libertine.</p>
<p>Brave, chivalrous, loyally faithful to his
plighted word, scrupulously heedful of his
own and others’ honour, Gawain stands
before us in this poem. We take up
Malory or Tennyson, and in spite of their
charm of style, in spite of the halo of
religious mysticism in which they have
striven to enwrap their characters, we lay
<span class="pb" id="Page_xi">xi</span>
them down with a feeling of dissatisfaction.
How did the Gawain of their imagination,
this empty-headed, empty-hearted worldling,
cruel murderer, and treacherous
friend, ever come to be the typical English
hero? For such Gawain certainly was,
even more than Arthur himself. Then
we turn back to these faded pages, and
read the quaintly earnest words in which
the old writer reveals the hidden meaning
of that mystic symbol, the pentangle, and
vindicates Gawain’s title to claim it as his
badge—and we smile, perhaps; but we
cease to wonder at the widespread popularity
of King Arthur’s famous nephew,
or at the immense body of romance that
claims him as its hero.</p>
<p>Scholars know all this, of course; they
can read the poem for themselves in its
original rough and intricate phraseology;
perhaps they will be shocked at an attempt
to handle it in simpler form. But this
little book is not for them, and if to those
<span class="pb" id="Page_xii">xii</span>
to whom the tale would otherwise be a
sealed treasure these pages bring some
new knowledge of the way in which our
forefathers looked on the characters of the
Arthurian legend, the tales they told of
them (unconsciously betraying the while
how they themselves lived and thought
and spoke)—if by that means they gain a
keener appreciation of our national heroes,
a wider knowledge of our national literature,—then
the spirit of the long-dead
poet will doubtless not be the slowest to
pardon my handling of what was his
masterpiece, as it is, in M. Gaston Paris’
words, “The jewel of English mediæval
literature.”</p>
<blockquote>
<p><span class="sc">Bournemouth</span>, <i>June 1898</i>.</p>
</blockquote>
<div class="pb" id="Page_xiii">xiii</div>
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<h2 id="toc" class="center">CONTENTS</h2>
<br/><SPAN href="#c1">I</SPAN> 1
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs1">Of the making of Britain</SPAN> 1
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs2">How Arthur held high feast at Camelot</SPAN> 2
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs3">New Year’s Day</SPAN> 3
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs4">Of the noble knights there present</SPAN> 4
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs5">The coming of the Green Knight</SPAN> 5
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs6">The fashion of the knight</SPAN> 5
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs7">Of the knight’s steed</SPAN> 6
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs8">The arming of the knight</SPAN> 7
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs9">Of the knight’s challenge</SPAN> 9
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs10">The silence of the knights</SPAN> 11
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs11">How Sir Gawain dared the venture</SPAN> 12
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs12">The making of the covenant</SPAN> 13
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs13">The giving of the blow</SPAN> 15
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs14">The marvel of the Green Knight</SPAN> 16
<br/><SPAN href="#c2">II</SPAN> 19
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs15">The waning of the year</SPAN> 19
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs16">Sir Gawain bethinks him of his covenant</SPAN> 21
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs17">The arming of Sir Gawain</SPAN> 22
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs18">Wherefore Sir Gawain bare the pentangle</SPAN> 24
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs19">How Sir Gawain went forth</SPAN> 25
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs20">Of Sir Gawain’s journey</SPAN> 26
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs21">How Sir Gawain came to a fair castle on Christmas Eve</SPAN> 29
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs22">How Sir Gawain was welcomed</SPAN> 31
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs23">Sir Gawain tells his name</SPAN> 34
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs24">The lady of the castle</SPAN> 35
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs25">Of the Christmas feast</SPAN> 37
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs26">How the feast came to an end but Gawain abode at the castle</SPAN> 38
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs27">Sir Gawain makes a covenant with his host</SPAN> 41
<br/><SPAN href="#c3">III</SPAN> 43
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs28">The first day’s hunting</SPAN> 43
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs29">How the lady of the castle came to Sir Gawain</SPAN> 45
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs30">How the lady kissed Sir Gawain</SPAN> 49
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs31">How the covenant was kept</SPAN> 51
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs32">Of the second day’s hunting</SPAN> 52
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs33">Of the lady and Sir Gawain</SPAN> 54
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs34">How the lady strove to beguile Sir Gawain with words of love</SPAN> 55
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs35">How the boar was slain</SPAN> 57
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs36">The keeping of the covenant</SPAN> 59
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs37">Of the third day’s hunting</SPAN> 61
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs38">How the lady came for the third time to Sir Gawain</SPAN> 62
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs39">The lady would fain have a parting gift from Gawain</SPAN> 64
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs40">She would give him her ring</SPAN> 65
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs41">Or her girdle</SPAN> 65
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs42">The virtue of the girdle</SPAN> 66
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs43">How Sir Gawain took the girdle</SPAN> 67
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs44">The death of the fox</SPAN> 68
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs45">How Sir Gawain kept not all the covenant</SPAN> 69
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs46">How Sir Gawain took leave of his host</SPAN> 71
<br/><SPAN href="#c4">IV</SPAN> 72
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs47">The robing of Sir Gawain</SPAN> 73
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs48">How Sir Gawain went forth from the castle</SPAN> 74
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs49">The squire’s warning</SPAN> 75
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs50">Of the knight of the Green Chapel</SPAN> 76
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs51">Sir Gawain is none dismayed</SPAN> 77
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs52">The finding of the chapel</SPAN> 79
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs53">The coming of the Green Knight</SPAN> 80
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs54">How Sir Gawain failed to stand the blow</SPAN> 81
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs55">Of the Green Knight’s reproaches</SPAN> 82
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs56">How the Green Knight dealt the blow</SPAN> 83
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs57">Of the three covenants</SPAN> 84
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs58">The shame of Sir Gawain</SPAN> 85
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs59">How Sir Gawain would keep the girdle</SPAN> 87
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs60">How the marvel was wrought</SPAN> 88
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs61">How Sir Gawain came again to Camelot</SPAN> 89
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs62">Sir Gawain makes confession of his fault</SPAN> 90
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs63">The knights wear the lace in honour of Gawain</SPAN> 90
<dd class="ddt"><SPAN href="#cs64">The end of the tale</SPAN> 91
<br/><SPAN href="#c5">Notes</SPAN> 93
<div class="pb" id="Page_1">1</div>
<h2 id="c1"><span class="small">I</span></h2>
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<h3 id="cs1">Of the making of Britain</h3>
<p>After the siege and the
assault of Troy, when
that burg was destroyed
and burnt to ashes, and
the traitor slain 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, oft-times since.</p>
<p>And in that kingdom of Britain have
been wrought more gallant deeds than in
<span class="pb" id="Page_2">2</span>
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.</p>
<hr />
<h3 id="cs2">How Arthur held high feast at Camelot</h3>
<p>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;<SPAN class="fn" id="fr_0" href="#fn_0">[0]</SPAN> 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,
<span class="pb" id="Page_3">3</span>
and the king himself of such fame that it
were hard now to name so valiant a hero.</p>
<h3 id="cs3">New Year’s Day</h3>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.
<span class="pb" id="Page_4">4</span>
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 knight
should seek of him leave to joust with
another, 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.</p>
<h3 id="cs4">Of the noble knights there present</h3>
<p>Thus the king sat before the high table,
and spake of many things; and there good
Sir Gawain was seated by Guinevere the
queen, and on her other side sat Agravain,<SPAN class="fn" id="fr_1" href="#fn_1">[1]</SPAN>
<i>à la dure main</i>; 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
<span class="pb" id="Page_5">5</span>
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.</p>
<h3 id="cs5">The coming of the Green Knight</h3>
<p>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.</p>
<h3 id="cs6">The fashion of the knight</h3>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_6">6</span>
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.</p>
<h3 id="cs7">Of the knight’s steed</h3>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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 crisped and plaited with many a knot
folded in with gold thread about the fair
green, here a twist of the hair, here another
<span class="pb" id="Page_7">7</span>
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.</p>
<h3 id="cs8">The arming of the knight</h3>
<p>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.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_8">8</div>
<p>The knight halted in the entrance of the
hall, looking 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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_9">9</div>
<p>Then Arthur beheld this adventure before
his high daïs, and knightly he greeted
him, for discourteous 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.”</p>
<h3 id="cs9">Of the knight’s challenge</h3>
<p>“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
<span class="pb" id="Page_10">10</span>
all men tell thou wilt freely grant me the
boon I ask.”</p>
<p>And Arthur answered, “Sir Knight, if
thou cravest battle here thou shalt not fail
for lack of a foe.”</p>
<p>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
many here. If any one in this hall holds
himself so hardy,<SPAN class="fn" id="fr_2" href="#fn_2">[2]</SPAN> 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
from to-day shall he have. Now pledge
me thy word, and let see whether any here
dare say aught.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_11">11</div>
<h3 id="cs10">The silence of the knights</h3>
<p>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!”</p>
<p>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 thine 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
<span class="pb" id="Page_12">12</span>
him and caught at his hand, and the
knight, fierce of aspect, lighted down from
his charger.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3 id="cs11">How Sir Gawain dared the venture</h3>
<p>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
that such challenge should 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
<span class="pb" id="Page_13">13</span>
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.”</p>
<p>Then they all spake with one voice that
the king should leave this venture and grant
it to Gawain.</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<h3 id="cs12">The making of the covenant</h3>
<p>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.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_14">14</div>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_15">15</div>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“Gladly will I,” quoth Gawain, handling
his axe.</p>
<h3 id="cs13">The giving of the blow</h3>
<p>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 head rolled even to
the horse’s feet.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_16">16</div>
<h3 id="cs14">The marvel of the Green Knight</h3>
<p>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 bridle, 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.</p>
<p>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 eye-lids
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.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_17">17</div>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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,
<span class="pb" id="Page_18">18</span>
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.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_19">19</div>
<h2 id="c2"><span class="small">II</span></h2>
<div class="fig">> <ANTIMG src="images/p04.jpg" id="ncfig3" alt="Illustrated drop-cap" width-obs="600" height-obs="350" /></div>
<p>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.</p>
<h3 id="cs15">The waning of the year</h3>
<p>For Yule was now over-past,<SPAN class="fn" id="fr_3" href="#fn_3">[3]</SPAN> 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
<span class="pb" id="Page_20">20</span>
withdraws itself, the clouds uplift, and the
rain falls in warm showers on the fair
plains. Then the flowers come forth,
meadows and groves 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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_21">21</div>
<h3 id="cs16">Sir Gawain bethinks him of his covenant</h3>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>Then came together all the noblest
knights, Ywain and Erec, and many another.
Sir Dodinel le Sauvage, 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
<span class="pb" id="Page_22">22</span>
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?”</p>
<h3 id="cs17">The arming of Sir Gawain</h3>
<p>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<SPAN class="fn" id="fr_4" href="#fn_4">[4]</SPAN> (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
<span class="pb" id="Page_23">23</span>
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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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 them. But
the circlet which crowned his helmet was
yet more precious, being adorned with a
<span class="pb" id="Page_24">24</span>
device in diamonds. Then they brought
him his shield, which was of bright red,
with the pentangle painted thereon in
gleaming gold.<SPAN class="fn" id="fr_5" href="#fn_5">[5]</SPAN></p>
<h3 id="cs18">Wherefore Sir Gawain bare the pentangle</h3>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_25">25</span>
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 <i>Farewell</i>,
he deemed it had been for ever.</p>
<h3 id="cs19">How Sir Gawain went forth</h3>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_26">26</span>
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.</p>
<h3 id="cs20">Of Sir Gawain’s journey</h3>
<p>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,<SPAN class="fn" id="fr_6" href="#fn_6">[6]</SPAN> that is loved neither
of God nor of man, and there he abode but
a little time. 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
<span class="pb" id="Page_27">27</span>
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.</p>
<p>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, 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
<span class="pb" id="Page_28">28</span>
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.</p>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_29">29</span>
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.”</p>
<h3 id="cs21">How Sir Gawain came to a fair castle on Christmas Eve</h3>
<p>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;<SPAN class="fn" id="fr_7" href="#fn_7">[7]</SPAN>
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.</p>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_30">30</span>
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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“Good sir,” quoth Gawain, “wilt thou
go mine errand to the high lord of the
castle, and crave for me lodging?”</p>
<p>“Yea, by S. Peter,” quoth the porter.
<span class="pb" id="Page_31">31</span>
“In sooth I trow that ye be welcome to
dwell here so long as it may like ye.”</p>
<h3 id="cs22">How Sir Gawain was welcomed</h3>
<p>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 he greeted them courteously,
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.</p>
<p>Sir Gawain gave good greeting to the
nobles 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.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_32">32</div>
<p>“Gramercy!” quote Gawain, “may
Christ requite ye.”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_33">33</span>
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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_34">34</span>
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.</p>
<h3 id="cs23">Sir Gawain tells his name</h3>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_35">35</span>
bring us to the knowledge of fair manners,
and it may be that hearing him we may
learn the cunning speech of love.”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3 id="cs24">The lady of the castle</h3>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_36">36</span>
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.</p>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_37">37</span>
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.</p>
<h3 id="cs25">Of the Christmas feast</h3>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_38">38</span>
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.</p>
<h3 id="cs26">How the feast came to an end but Gawain abode at the castle</h3>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_39">39</span>
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.”</p>
<p>“Gramercy, sir,” quoth Gawain, “in
good faith, all the honour is yours, may the
High King give it ye, and I am but at
your will to work your behest, inasmuch as
I am beholden to ye in great and small by
rights.”</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>“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 ye that
ye tell me truly if ye ever heard word of
the Green Chapel, where it may be found,
<span class="pb" id="Page_40">40</span>
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 ye, for I
have but barely three days, and I would as
fain fall dead as fail of mine errand.”</p>
<p>Then the lord quoth, laughing, “Now
must ye needs stay, for I will show ye
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.”</p>
<p>Then was Gawain glad, and he laughed
gaily. “Now I thank ye for this above
all else. Now my quest is achieved I will
dwell here at your will, and otherwise do as
ye shall ask.”</p>
<p>Then the lord took him, and set him
beside him, and bade the ladies be fetched
<span class="pb" id="Page_41">41</span>
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?”</p>
<p>“Yea, forsooth,” said that true knight,
“while I abide in your burg I am bound
by your behest.”</p>
<p>“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 to-morrow
at Mass-tide, and go to meat when
ye will with my wife, who shall sit with
ye, and comfort ye with her company
till I return; and I shall rise early and go
forth to the chase.” And Gawain agreed
to all this courteously.</p>
<h3 id="cs27">Sir Gawain makes a covenant with his host</h3>
<p>“Sir knight,” quoth the host, “we will
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.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_42">42</div>
<p>“I grant ye your will,” quoth Gawain
the good; “if ye list so to do, it liketh me
well.”</p>
<p>“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.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_43">43</div>
<h2 id="c3"><span class="small">III</span></h2>
<div class="fig">> <ANTIMG src="images/p05.jpg" id="ncfig4" alt="Illustrated drop-cap" width-obs="600" height-obs="345" /></div>
<h3 id="cs28">The first day’s hunting</h3>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.<SPAN class="fn" id="fr_8" href="#fn_8">[8]</SPAN> He and his nobles
were to horse ere daylight glimmered upon
the earth.</p>
<p>Then the huntsmen coupled their hounds,
unclosed the kennel door, and called them
<span class="pb" id="Page_44">44</span>
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 the forest rang
again with their gay blasts.</p>
<p>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 that well-nigh
burst the cliffs asunder. What game escaped
those that shot was run down at the outer
ring. Thus were they driven on the hills,
<span class="pb" id="Page_45">45</span>
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.</p>
<h3 id="cs29">How the lady of the castle came to Sir Gawain</h3>
<p>So the lord roamed the woods, and
Gawain, that good knight, 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 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;
<span class="pb" id="Page_46">46</span>
and she looked on him laughing, with her
cheeks red and white, lovely to behold.</p>
<p>“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.</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“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
<span class="pb" id="Page_47">47</span>
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.”</p>
<p>“In good faith,” quoth Gawain, “I
think me that I am not he 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!”</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>Thus the lady, fair to look upon,
<span class="pb" id="Page_48">48</span>
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.”</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>So they talked of many matters till mid-morn
was past, and ever the lady shewed
her love to him, and the knight turned her
speech aside. For though she were the
<span class="pb" id="Page_49">49</span>
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.</p>
<p>Then the lady prayed her leave from
him, and he granted it readily. And she
gave him good-day, with laughing glance,
but he must needs marvel at her words:</p>
<p>“Now He that speeds fair speech reward
ye this disport; but that ye be Gawain my
mind misdoubts me greatly.”</p>
<p>“Wherefore?” quoth the knight quickly,
fearing lest he had lacked in some courtesy.</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<h3 id="cs30">How the lady kissed Sir Gawain</h3>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>Then Sir Gawain arose and called his
chamberlain and chose his garments, and
<span class="pb" id="Page_50">50</span>
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.</p>
<p>And ever 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?”</p>
<p>“Yea, I wis,” quoth the other, “here is
the fairest spoil I have seen this seven year
in the winter season.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_51">51</div>
<h3 id="cs31">How the covenant was kept</h3>
<p>“And all this do I give ye, Gawain,”
quoth the host, “for by accord of covenant
ye may claim it as your own.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“’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?”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_52">52</span>
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.</p>
<h3 id="cs32">Of the second day’s hunting</h3>
<p>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 followed hard after 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. As the rough rocks
were ill for riding the huntsmen sprang
to earth and hastened on foot, and cast
about round the hill and the thicket.
The knights wist well what beast was
within, and would drive him forth with
the bloodhounds. And as they beat the
<span class="pb" id="Page_53">53</span>
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, “<i>Hay! Hay!</i>”
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.</p>
<p>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, affrighted, 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.</p>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_54">54</span>
early was she at his side, to cheer his
mood.</p>
<h3 id="cs33">Of the lady and Sir Gawain</h3>
<p>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:</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>“What is that?” quoth the knight.
“I trow I know not. If it be sooth that
ye say, then is the blame mine own.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“I’ faith,” quoth the lady merrily, “ye
may not be forbid, ye are strong enough to
<span class="pb" id="Page_55">55</span>
constrain by strength an ye will, were any
so discourteous as to give ye denial.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>Then the lady bent her down and
kissed him courteously.</p>
<h3 id="cs34">How the lady strove to beguile Sir Gawain with words of love</h3>
<p>And as they spake together she said,
“I would learn somewhat from ye, an ye
would not be wroth, for young ye are 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 heard of love!
Ye who are so courteous and skilled in
such lore ought surely to teach one so
young and unskilled some little craft of
<span class="pb" id="Page_56">56</span>
true love! Why are ye so unlearned who
art otherwise so famous? Or is it that
ye deem 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.”</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>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,
<span class="pb" id="Page_57">57</span>
and craved her leave of him, and went her
way.</p>
<h3 id="cs35">How the boar was slain</h3>
<p>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.</p>
<p>When the beast was ware 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
<span class="pb" id="Page_58">58</span>
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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>It seemed him o’er long ere he saw Sir
Gawain in the hall, and he blew a blast on
his horn to let all men know that he was
come again to take his part in the covenant.
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 had hunted the wild boar through the
<span class="pb" id="Page_59">59</span>
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.</p>
<h3 id="cs36">The keeping of the covenant</h3>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>“’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.”</p>
<p>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!”</p>
<p>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;
songs of Christmas, and new carols, with
all the mirth one may think of. And ever
that lovely lady sat by the knight, and
<span class="pb" id="Page_60">60</span>
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.</p>
<p>When they had tarried in the hall so
long as it seemed them good, they turned
to the inner chamber and the wide hearth-place,
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,</p>
<p>“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
<span class="pb" id="Page_61">61</span>
on joy, for misfortune may take a man
whensoever it wills.”</p>
<p>Then Gawain granted his request, and
they brought them drink, and they gat
them with lights to bed.</p>
<h3 id="cs37">Of the third day’s hunting</h3>
<p>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.</p>
<p>’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 bounds. But
he went, ere he wist, to a chosen tryst,
<span class="pb" id="Page_62">62</span>
and three started forth on him at once, so
he must needs double back, and betake him
to the wood again.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3 id="cs38">How the lady came for the third time to Sir Gawain</h3>
<p>But the fair lady of the castle rose
betimes, and clad herself in a rich mantle
that reached even to the ground, 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 and set open a window, and called
to him gaily, “Sir Knight, how may ye
sleep? The morning is so fair.”</p>
<p>Sir Gawain was deep in slumber, and in
<span class="pb" id="Page_63">63</span>
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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_64">64</div>
<p>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—as I scarce may believe. And
now I pray ye straitly that ye tell me that
in truth, and hide it not.”</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<h3 id="cs39">The lady would fain have a parting gift from Gawain</h3>
<p>“Now, I wis,” quoth the knight, “I
would that I had here but the least 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
<span class="pb" id="Page_65">65</span>
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.”</p>
<h3 id="cs40">She would give him her ring</h3>
<p>“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,</p>
<p>“I will take no gift, lady, at this time.
I have none to give, and none will I take.”</p>
<p>She prayed him to take it, but he refused
her prayer, and sware in sooth that he
would not have it.</p>
<h3 id="cs41">Or her girdle</h3>
<p>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 ye my girdle<SPAN class="fn" id="fr_9" href="#fn_9">[9]</SPAN> 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
<span class="pb" id="Page_66">66</span>
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.”</p>
<h3 id="cs42">The virtue of the girdle</h3>
<p>“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.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_67">67</div>
<h3 id="cs43">How Sir Gawain took the girdle</h3>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_68">68</span>
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.</p>
<h3 id="cs44">The death of the fox</h3>
<p>Meanwhile the lord of the castle was
abroad chasing the fox; awhile he lost
him, and as he rode through a spinney 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.</p>
<p>Then the lord leapt from his saddle, and
caught the fox from their jaws, and held it
aloft over his head, and hallooed loudly,
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
<span class="pb" id="Page_69">69</span>
of his coat; then blowing their horns,
they turned them homewards, for it was
nigh nightfall.</p>
<h3 id="cs45">How Sir Gawain kept not all the covenant</h3>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“Of a sooth,” quoth the other, “ye
have good luck in the matter of this
covenant, if ye made a good exchange!”</p>
<p>“Yea, it matters naught of the exchange,”
quoth Gawain, “since what I
owe is swiftly paid.”</p>
<p>“Marry,” said the other, “mine is
behind, for I have hunted all this day, and
<span class="pb" id="Page_70">70</span>
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.”</p>
<p>“Enough,” quoth Sir Gawain, “I thank
ye, by the Rood.”</p>
<p>Then the lord told them of his hunting,
and how the fox had been slain.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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 ye 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.”</p>
<p>“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
<span class="pb" id="Page_71">71</span>
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.</p>
<h3 id="cs46">How Sir Gawain took leave of his host</h3>
<p>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 a while,
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.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_72">72</div>
<h2 id="c4"><span class="small">IV</span></h2>
<div class="fig">> <ANTIMG src="images/p06.jpg" id="ncfig5" alt="Illustrated drop-cap" width-obs="600" height-obs="339" /></div>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_73">73</div>
<h3 id="cs47">The robing of Sir Gawain</h3>
<p>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.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_74">74</div>
<h3 id="cs48">How Sir Gawain went forth from the castle</h3>
<p>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
anywhile 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.</p>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_75">75</span>
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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3 id="cs49">The squire’s warning</h3>
<p>“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.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_76">76</div>
<h3 id="cs50">Of the knight of the Green Chapel</h3>
<p>“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
<span class="pb" id="Page_77">77</span>
faithfully, and never let any wit the tale
that ye fled for fear of any man.”</p>
<h3 id="cs51">Sir Gawain is none dismayed</h3>
<p>“Gramercy,” quoth Gawain, but ill
pleased. “Good fortune be his who
wishes me good, and that thou wouldst
keep faith with me I well 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.”</p>
<p>“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.”
<span class="pb" id="Page_78">78</span>
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.</p>
<p>Quoth Gawain, “I will neither greet
nor groan, but commend myself to God,
and yield me to His will.”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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,
<span class="pb" id="Page_79">79</span>
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.</p>
<h3 id="cs52">The finding of the chapel</h3>
<p>“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. By my
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!”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“By God,” quoth Gawain, “I trow
that gear is preparing for the knight who
will meet me here. Alas! naught may
<span class="pb" id="Page_80">80</span>
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.”</p>
<h3 id="cs53">The coming of the Green Knight</h3>
<p>“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.</p>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_81">81</span>
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.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3 id="cs54">How Sir Gawain failed to stand the blow</h3>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_82">82</span>
shoulders, for the sharp iron. The other
heaved up the blade and rebuked the prince
with many proud words:</p>
<h3 id="cs55">Of the Green Knight’s reproaches</h3>
<p>“Thou art not Gawain,” he said, “who
is held so valiant, that never feared he man
by hill or vale, but <i>thou</i> shrinkest for fear
ere thou feelest hurt. Such cowardice did
I never hear of Gawain! Neither did <i>I</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.”</p>
<p>Quoth Gawain, “I shrank once, but so
will I no more, though an <i>my</i> 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.”</p>
<p>“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.</p>
<p>Gawain abode the stroke, and flinched
<span class="pb" id="Page_83">83</span>
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.</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>Then Gawain said angrily, “Why talk
on thus? Thou dost threaten too long.
I hope thy heart misgives thee.”</p>
<h3 id="cs56">How the Green Knight dealt the blow</h3>
<p>“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 he who
hoped for no rescue misliked him. 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
<span class="pb" id="Page_84">84</span>
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.”</p>
<h3 id="cs57">Of the three covenants</h3>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_85">85</span>
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.”</p>
<h3 id="cs58">The shame of Sir Gawain</h3>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_86">86</span>
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 afeard: 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.”</p>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_87">87</span>
hold of him, and said, “I wot we shall soon
make peace with my wife, who was thy
bitter enemy.”</p>
<h3 id="cs59">How Sir Gawain would keep the girdle</h3>
<p>“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, and many
a mighty man of old, Samson, and David,
and Solomon—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
<span class="pb" id="Page_88">88</span>
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.”</p>
<h3 id="cs60">How the marvel was wrought</h3>
<p>“That will I truly,” quoth the other.
“Bernlak de Hautdesert am I called in
this land. Morgain le Fay dwelleth in mine
house,<SPAN class="fn" id="fr_10" href="#fn_10">[10]</SPAN> 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
<span class="pb" id="Page_89">89</span>
thee as well as any man on earth, by my
faith, for thy true dealing.”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3 id="cs61">How Sir Gawain came again to Camelot</h3>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_90">90</span>
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.</p>
<h3 id="cs62">Sir Gawain makes confession of his fault</h3>
<p>“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.”</p>
<h3 id="cs63">The knights wear the lace in honour of Gawain</h3>
<p>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<SPAN class="fn" id="fr_11" href="#fn_11">[11]</SPAN> for the sake of Sir
Gawain. 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.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_91">91</div>
<h3 id="cs64">The end of the tale</h3>
<p>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</p>
<div class="b small">
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">Many a venture herebefore</p>
<p class="t">Hath fallen such as this:</p>
<p class="t0">May He that bare the crown of thorn</p>
<p class="t">Bring us unto His bliss.</p>
</div>
<p class="tbcenter"><i class="larger">Amen</i></p>
</div>
<div class="pb" id="Page_93">93</div>
<h2 id="c5"><span class="small">Notes</span></h2>
<div class="fndef"><SPAN class="fn" id="fn_0" href="#fr_0">[0]</SPAN>. <span class="sc">Page 2.</span>—<i>Carol.</i> Dance accompanied by song. Often mentioned in
old romances.</div>
<div class="fndef"><SPAN class="fn" id="fn_1" href="#fr_1">[1]</SPAN>. <span class="sc">Page 4.</span>—<i>Agravain</i>, “<i>à la dure main</i>.” This characterisation
of Gawain’s brother seems to indicate that
there was a French source at the root of this story. The
author distinctly tells us more than once that the tale, as
he tells it, was written <i>in a book</i>. M. Gaston Paris thinks
that the direct source was an Anglo-Norman poem, now
lost.</div>
<div class="fndef"><SPAN class="fn" id="fn_2" href="#fr_2">[2]</SPAN>. <span class="sc">Page 10.</span>—<i>If any in this hall holds himself so hardy.</i>
This, the main incident of the tale, is apparently of very
early date. The oldest version we possess is that found in
the Irish tale of the <i>Fled Bricrend</i> (Bricriu’s feast), where
the hero of the tale is the Irish champion, Cuchulinn.
Two mediæval romances, the <i>Mule sans Frein</i> (French)
and <i>Diu Krône</i> (German), again attribute it to Gawain;
while the continuator of Chrétien de Troye’s <i>Conte del
Graal</i> gives as hero a certain Carados, whom he represents
as Arthur’s nephew; and the prose <i>Perceval</i> has Lancelot.
So far as the mediæval versions are concerned, the original
hero is undoubtedly Gawain; and our poem gives the
fullest and most complete form of the story we possess.
In the Irish version the magician is a <i>giant</i>, and the
abnormal size and stature of the Green Knight is, in all
probability, the survival of a primitive feature. His
curious <i>colour</i> is a trait found nowhere else. In <i>Diu Krône</i>
<div class="pb" id="Page_94">94</div>
we are told that the challenger changes shapes in a terrifying
manner, but no details are given.</div>
<div class="fndef"><SPAN class="fn" id="fn_3" href="#fr_3">[3]</SPAN>. <span class="sc">Page 19.</span>—<i>For Yule was over-past.</i> This passage,
descriptive of the flight of the year, should be especially
noticed. Combined with other passages—the description
of Gawain’s journey, the early morning hunts, the dawning
of New Year’s Day, and the ride to the Green Chapel—they
indicate a knowledge of Nature, and an observant eye
for her moods, uncommon among mediæval poets. It is
usual enough to find graceful and charming descriptions of
spring and early summer—an appreciation of <i>May</i> in
especial, when the summer courts were held, is part of the
stock-in-trade of mediæval romancers—but a sympathy
with the year in all its changes is far rarer, and certainly
deserves to be specially reckoned to the credit of this
nameless writer.</div>
<div class="fndef"><SPAN class="fn" id="fn_4" href="#fr_4">[4]</SPAN>. <span class="sc">Page 22.</span>—<i>First a rich carpet was stretched on the
floor.</i> The description of the arming of Gawain is rather
more detailed in the original, but some of the minor
points are not easy to understand, the identification of
sundry of the pieces of armour being doubtful.</div>
<div class="fndef"><SPAN class="fn" id="fn_5" href="#fr_5">[5]</SPAN>. <span class="sc">Page 24.</span>—<i>The pentangle painted thereupon in gleaming
gold.</i> I do not remember that the pentangle is elsewhere
attributed to Gawain. He often bears a red shield; but
the blazon varies. Indeed, the heraldic devices borne by
Arthur’s knights are distractingly chaotic—their legends
are older than the science of heraldry, and no one has
done for them the good office that the compiler of the
Thidrek Saga has rendered to his Teutonic heroes.</div>
<div class="fndef"><SPAN class="fn" id="fn_6" href="#fr_6">[6]</SPAN>. <span class="sc">Page 26.</span>—<i>The Wilderness of Wirral.</i> This is in
Cheshire. Sir F. Madden suggests that the forest which
forms the final stage of Gawain’s journey is that of
Inglewood, in Cumberland. The geography here is far
clearer than is often the case in such descriptions.</div>
<div class="fndef"><SPAN class="fn" id="fn_7" href="#fr_7">[7]</SPAN>. <span class="sc">Page 29.</span>—<i>’Twas the fairest castle that ever a knight
owned.</i> Here, again, I have omitted some of the details of
the original, the architectural terms lacking identification.</div>
<div class="pb" id="Page_95">95</div>
<div class="fndef"><SPAN class="fn" id="fn_8" href="#fr_8">[8]</SPAN>. <span class="sc">Page 43.</span>—<i>With blast of the bugle fared forth to the
field.</i> The account of each day’s hunting contains a
number of obsolete terms and details of woodcraft, not
given in full. The meaning of some has been lost, and
the minute description of skinning and dismembering the
game would be distinctly repulsive to the general reader.
They are valuable for a student of the history of the
English sport, but interfere with the progress of the story.
The fact that the author devotes so much space to them
seems to indicate that he lived in the country and was
keenly interested in field sports. (Gottfried von Stressbourg’s
<i>Tristan</i> contains a similar and almost more detailed
description.)</div>
<div class="fndef"><SPAN class="fn" id="fn_9" href="#fr_9">[9]</SPAN>. <span class="sc">Page 65.</span>—<i>I will give thee my girdle.</i> This magic
girdle, which confers invulnerability on its owner, is a
noticeable feature of our story. It is found nowhere else
in this connection, yet in other romances we find that
Gawain possesses a girdle with similar powers (cf., my
<i>Legend of Sir Gawain</i>, Chap. IX.). Such a talisman was
also owned by Cuchulinn, the Irish hero, who has many
points of contact with Gawain. It seems not improbable
that this was also an old feature of the story. I have
commented, in the Introduction, on the lady’s persistent
wooing of Gawain, and need not repeat the remarks here.
The Celtic <i>Lay of the Great Fool</i> (<i>Amadan Mor</i>) presents
some curious points of contact with our story, which may,
however, well be noted here. In the <i>Lay</i> the hero is
mysteriously deprived of his legs, through the draught from
a cup proffered by a <i>Gruagach</i> or magician. He comes to
a castle, the lord of which goes out hunting, leaving his
wife in the care of the Great Fool, who is to allow no
man to enter. He falls asleep, and a young knight arrives
and kisses the host’s wife. The Great Fool, awaking,
refuses to allow the intruder to depart; and, in spite of
threats and blandishments, insists on detaining him till the
husband returns. Finally, the stranger reveals himself as
the host in another shape; he is also the <i>Gruagach</i>, who
<div class="pb" id="Page_96">96</div>
deprived the hero of his limbs, and the Great Fool’s
brother. He has only intended to test the <i>Amadan Mor’s</i>
fidelity. A curious point in connection with this story is
that it possesses a prose opening which shows a marked
affinity with the “Perceval” <i>enfances</i>. That the Perceval
and Gawain stories early became connected is certain, but
what is the precise connection between them and the
Celtic <i>Lay</i> is not clear. <i>In its present form</i> the latter is
certainly posterior to the Grail romances, but it is quite
possible that the matter with which it deals represents a
tradition older than the Arthurian story.</div>
<div class="fndef"><SPAN class="fn" id="fn_10" href="#fr_10">[10]</SPAN>. <span class="sc">Page 88.</span>—<i>Morgain le Fay, who dwelleth in my house.</i>
The enmity between Morgain le Fay and Guinevere,
which is here stated to have been the <i>motif</i> of the
enchantment, is no invention of the author, but is found
in the <i>Merlin</i>, probably the earliest of the Arthurian <i>prose</i>
romances. In a later version of our story, a poem, written
in ballad form, and contained in the “Percy” MS.,
Morgain does not appear; her place is taken by an old
witch, mother to the lady, but the enchantment is still
due to her spells. In this later form the knight bears the
curious name of <i>Sir Bredbeddle</i>. That given in our
romance, <i>Bernlak de Hautdesert</i>, seems to point to the
original French source of the story. (It is curious that
Morgain should here be represented as extremely old,
while Arthur is still in his first youth. There is evidently
a discrepancy or misunderstanding of the source here.)</div>
<div class="fndef"><SPAN class="fn" id="fn_11" href="#fr_11">[11]</SPAN>. <span class="sc">Page 90.</span>—<i>A baldric of bright green, for sake of Sir
Gawain.</i>—The later version connects this <i>lace</i> with that
worn by the knights of the Bath; but this latter was
<i>white</i>, not <i>green</i>. The knights wore it on the left shoulder
till they had done some gallant deed, or till some noble
lady took it off for them.</div>
<p class="tbcenter"><span class="smaller">Printed by <span class="sc">Ballantyne, Hanson <i>&</i> Co.</span>
<br/>London & Edinburgh</span></p>
<h2 id="trnotes">Transcriber’s Notes</h2>
<ul>
<li>Silently corrected a few typos.</li>
<li>Retained publication information from the printed edition: this eBook is public-domain in the country of publication.</li>
<li>In the text versions only, text in italics is delimited by _underscores_.</li>
<li>Created a Table of Contents based on the sidenotes.</li>
</ul>
<SPAN name="endofbook"></SPAN>
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