{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_66084/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_66084","id":"gutenberg_66084","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66084","summary":null,"tags":["Arthurian romances","Category: Adventure","Category: British Literature","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Gawain (Legendary character) -- Romances"],"text":"ARTHURIAN ROMANCES\n               Unrepresented in Malory\u2019s \u201cMorte d\u2019Arthur\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                                _No. I_\n                           Sir Gawain and the\n                              Green Knight\n\n\nA Middle-English Arthurian Romance _Retold in Modern Prose, with\nIntroduction & Notes_, by Jessie L. Weston, _Translator_ of Wolfram von\nEschenbach\u2019s \u201cParzival\u201d \u2022 _With Designs by_ M. M. Crawford\n\n\nLondon: David Nutt in the Strand\nmdcccxcviii\n\n\n\n\n                                Preface\n\n\nThe poem of which the following pages offer a prose rendering is\ncontained in a MS., believed to be unique, of the Cottonian Collection,\nNero A. X., preserved in the British Museum. The MS. is of the end of\nthe fourteenth century, but it is possible that the composition of the\npoem is somewhat earlier; the subject matter is certainly of very old\ndate. There has been a considerable divergence of opinion among scholars\non the question of authorship, but the view now generally accepted is\nthat it is the work of the same hand as _Pearl_, another poem of\nconsiderable merit contained in the same MS.\n\nOur poem, or, to speak more correctly, metrical romance, contains over\n2500 lines, and is composed in staves of varying length, ending in five\nshort rhyming lines, technically known as a bob and a wheel,\u2014the lines\nforming the body of the stave being not rhyming, but alliterative. The\ndialect in which it is written has been decided to be West Midland,\nprobably Lancashire, and is by no means easy to understand. Indeed, it\nis the real difficulty and obscurity of the language, which in spite of\ncareful and scholarly editing will always place the poem in its original\nform outside the range of any but professed students of medi\u00e6val\nliterature, which has encouraged me to make an attempt to render it more\naccessible to the general public, by giving it a form that shall be\neasily intelligible, and at the same time preserve as closely as\npossible the style of the author.\n\nFor that style, in spite of a certain roughness, unavoidable at a period\nin which the language was still in a partially developed and amorphous\nstage, is really charming. The author has a keen eye for effect; a\ntalent for description, detailed without becoming wearisome; a genuine\nlove of Nature and sympathy with her varying moods; and a real\nrefinement and elevation of feeling which enable him to deal with a\n_risqu\u00e9_ situation with an absence of coarseness, not, unfortunately, to\nbe always met with in a medi\u00e6val writer. Standards of taste vary with\nthe age, but even judged by that of our own day the author of _Sir\nGawain and the Green Knight_ comes not all too badly out of the ordeal!\n\nThe story with which the poem deals, too, has claims upon our interest.\nI have shown elsewhere[a] that the beheading challenge is an incident of\nvery early occurrence in heroic legend, and that the particular form\ngiven to it in the English poem is especially interesting, corresponding\nas it does to the variations of the story as preserved in the oldest\nknown version, that of the old Irish _Fled Bricrend_.\n\n[a]\u201cThe Legend of Sir Gawain,\u201d Grimm Library, Vol. VII. (Chapter IX. Sir\n    Gawain and the Green Knight).\n\nBut in no other version is the incident coupled with that of a\ntemptation and testing of the hero\u2019s honour and chastity, such as meets\nus here. At first sight one is inclined to assign the episode of the\nlady of the castle to the class of stories of which the oldest version\nis preserved in Biblical record\u2014the story of Joseph and Potiphar\u2019s wife;\na _motif_ not unseldom employed by medi\u00e6val writers, and which notably\noccurs in what we may call the _Launfal_ group of stories. But there are\ncertain points which may make us hesitate as to whether in its first\nconception the tale was really one of this class.\n\nIt must be noted that here the lady is acting throughout with the\nknowledge and consent of the husband, an important point of difference.\nIn the second place, it is very doubtful whether her entire attitude was\nnot a _ruse_. From the Green Knight\u2019s words to Gawain when he finally\nreveals himself, \u201cI wot we shall soon make peace with my wife, who was\nthy bitter enemy,\u201d her conduct hardly seems to have been prompted by\nreal passion.\n\nIn my _Studies on the Legend of Sir Gawain_, already referred to, I have\nsuggested that the character of the lady here is, perhaps, a\nreminiscence of that of the Queen of the Magic Castle or Isle, daughter\nor niece of an enchanter, who at an early stage of Gawain\u2019s story was\nundoubtedly his love. I think it not impossible that she was an integral\npart of the tale as first told, and her r\u00f4le here was determined by that\nwhich she originally played. In most versions of the story she has\ndropped out altogether. It is, of course, possible that, there being but\na confused reminiscence of the original tale, her share _may_ have been\nmodified by the influence of the _Launfal_ group; but I should prefer to\nexplain the episode on the whole as a somewhat distorted survival of an\noriginal feature.\n\nBut in any case we may be thankful for this, that the author of the most\nimportant English metrical romance dealing with Arthurian legend\nfaithfully adheres to the original conception of Gawain\u2019s character, as\ndrawn before the monkish lovers of edification laid their ruthless hands\non his legend, and turned the model of knightly virtues and courtesy\ninto a mere vulgar libertine.\n\nBrave, chivalrous, loyally faithful to his plighted word, scrupulously\nheedful of his own and others\u2019 honour, Gawain stands before us in this\npoem. We take up Malory or Tennyson, and in spite of their charm of\nstyle, in spite of the halo of religious mysticism in which they have\nstriven to enwrap their characters, we lay them down with a feeling of\ndissatisfaction. How did the Gawain of their imagination, this\nempty-headed, empty-hearted worldling, cruel murderer, and treacherous\nfriend, ever come to be the typical English hero? For such Gawain\ncertainly was, even more than Arthur himself. Then we turn back to these\nfaded pages, and read the quaintly earnest words in which the old writer\nreveals the hidden meaning of that mystic symbol, the pentangle, and\nvindicates Gawain\u2019s title to claim it as his badge\u2014and we smile,\nperhaps; but we cease to wonder at the widespread popularity of King\nArthur\u2019s famous nephew, or at the immense body of romance that claims\nhim as its hero.\n\nScholars know all this, of course; they can read the poem for themselves\nin its original rough and intricate phraseology; perhaps they will be\nshocked at an attempt to handle it in simpler form. But this little book\nis not for them, and if to those to whom the tale would otherwise be a\nsealed treasure these pages bring some new knowledge of the way in which\nour forefathers looked on the characters of the Arthurian legend, the\ntales they told of them (unconsciously betraying the while how they\nthemselves lived and thought and spoke)\u2014if by that means they gain a\nkeener appreciation of our national heroes, a wider knowledge of our\nnational literature,\u2014then the spirit of the long-dead poet will\ndoubtless not be the slowest to pardon my handling of what was his\nmasterpiece, as it is, in M. Gaston Paris\u2019 words, \u201cThe jewel of English\nmedi\u00e6val literature.\u201d\n\n  Bournemouth, _June 1898_.\n\n    [Illustration: Sir Gawain and the Green Knight]\n\n\n\n\n                                CONTENTS\n\n\n  I                                                                    1\n          Of the making of Britain                                     1\n          How Arthur held high feast at Camelot                        2\n          New Year\u2019s Day                                               3\n          Of the noble knights there present                           4\n          The coming of the Green Knight                               5\n          The fashion of the knight                                    5\n          Of the knight\u2019s steed                                        6\n          The arming of the knight                                     7\n          Of the knight\u2019s challenge                                    9\n          The silence of the knights                                  11\n          How Sir Gawain dared the venture                            12\n          The making of the covenant                                  13\n          The giving of the blow                                      15\n          The marvel of the Green Knight                              16\n  II                                                                  19\n          The waning of the year                                      19\n          Sir Gawain bethinks him of his covenant                     21\n          The arming of Sir Gawain                                    22\n          Wherefore Sir Gawain bare the pentangle                     24\n          How Sir Gawain went forth                                   25\n          Of Sir Gawain\u2019s journey                                     26\n          How Sir Gawain came to a fair castle on Christmas Eve       29\n          How Sir Gawain was welcomed                                 31\n          Sir Gawain tells his name                                   34\n          The lady of the castle                                      35\n          Of the Christmas feast                                      37\n          How the feast came to an end but Gawain abode at the\n          castle                                                      38\n          Sir Gawain makes a covenant with his host                   41\n  III                                                                 43\n          The first day\u2019s hunting                                     43\n          How the lady of the castle came to Sir Gawain               45\n          How the lady kissed Sir Gawain                              49\n          How the covenant was kept                                   51\n          Of the second day\u2019s hunting                                 52\n          Of the lady and Sir Gawain                                  54\n          How the lady strove to beguile Sir Gawain with words of\n          love                                                        55\n          How the boar was slain                                      57\n          The keeping of the covenant                                 59\n          Of the third day\u2019s hunting                                  61\n          How the lady came for the third time to Sir Gawain          62\n          The lady would fain have a parting gift from Gawain         64\n          She would give him her ring                                 65\n          Or her girdle                                               65\n          The virtue of the girdle                                    66\n          How Sir Gawain took the girdle                              67\n          The death of the fox                                        68\n          How Sir Gawain kept not all the covenant                    69\n          How Sir Gawain took leave of his host                       71\n  IV                                                                  72\n          The robing of Sir Gawain                                    73\n          How Sir Gawain went forth from the castle                   74\n          The squire\u2019s warning                                        75\n          Of the knight of the Green Chapel                           76\n          Sir Gawain is none dismayed                                 77\n          The finding of the chapel                                   79\n          The coming of the Green Knight                              80\n          How Sir Gawain failed to stand the blow                     81\n          Of the Green Knight\u2019s reproaches                            82\n          How the Green Knight dealt the blow                         83\n          Of the three covenants                                      84\n          The shame of Sir Gawain                                     85\n          How Sir Gawain would keep the girdle                        87\n          How the marvel was wrought                                  88\n          How Sir Gawain came again to Camelot                        89\n          Sir Gawain makes confession of his fault                    90\n          The knights wear the lace in honour of Gawain               90\n          The end of the tale                                         91\n  Notes                                                               93\n\n\n\n\n                                   I\n\n\n    [Illustration: Illustrated drop-cap]\n\n\nOf the making of Britain\n\nAfter the siege and the assault of Troy, when that burg was destroyed\nand burnt to ashes, and the traitor slain for his treason, the noble\n\u00c6neas and his kin sailed forth to become princes and patrons of\nwell-nigh all the Western Isles. Thus Romulus built Rome (and gave to\nthe city his own name, which it bears even to this day); and Ticius\nturned him to Tuscany; and Langobard raised him up dwellings in\nLombardy; and Felix Brutus sailed far over the French flood, and founded\nthe kingdom of Britain, wherein have been war and waste and wonder, and\nbliss and bale, oft-times since.\n\nAnd in that kingdom of Britain have been wrought more gallant deeds than\nin any other; but of all British kings Arthur was the most valiant, as I\nhave heard tell, therefore will I set forth a wondrous adventure that\nfell out in his time. And if ye will listen to me, but for a little\nwhile, I will tell it even as it stands in story stiff and strong, fixed\nin the letter, as it hath long been known in the land.\n\n\nHow Arthur held high feast at Camelot\n\nKing Arthur lay at Camelot upon a Christmas-tide, with many a gallant\nlord and lovely lady, and all the noble brotherhood of the Round Table.\nThere they held rich revels with gay talk and jest; one while they would\nride forth to joust and tourney, and again back to the court to make\ncarols;[0] for there was the feast holden fifteen days with all the\nmirth that men could devise, song and glee, glorious to hear, in the\ndaytime, and dancing at night. Halls and chambers were crowded with\nnoble guests, the bravest of knights and the loveliest of ladies, and\nArthur himself was the comeliest king that ever held a court. For all\nthis fair folk were in their youth, the fairest and most fortunate under\nheaven, and the king himself of such fame that it were hard now to name\nso valiant a hero.\n\n\nNew Year\u2019s Day\n\nNow the New Year had but newly come in, and on that day a double portion\nwas served on the high table to all the noble guests, and thither came\nthe king with all his knights, when the service in the chapel had been\nsung to an end. And they greeted each other for the New Year, and gave\nrich gifts, the one to the other (and they that received them were not\nwroth, that may ye well believe!), and the maidens laughed and made\nmirth till it was time to get them to meat. Then they washed and sat\nthem down to the feast in fitting rank and order, and Guinevere the\nqueen, gaily clad, sat on the high da\u00efs. Silken was her seat, with a\nfair canopy over her head, of rich tapestries of Tars, embroidered, and\nstudded with costly gems; fair she was to look upon, with her shining\ngrey eyes, a fairer woman might no man boast himself of having seen.\n\nBut Arthur would not eat till all were served, so full of joy and\ngladness was he, even as a child; he liked not either to lie long, or to\nsit long at meat, so worked upon him his young blood and his wild brain.\nAnd another custom he had also, that came of his nobility, that he would\nnever eat upon an high day till he had been advised of some knightly\ndeed, or some strange and marvellous tale, of his ancestors, or of arms,\nor of other ventures. Or till some knight should seek of him leave to\njoust with another, that they might set their lives in jeopardy, one\nagainst another, as fortune might favour them. Such was the king\u2019s\ncustom when he sat in hall at each high feast with his noble knights,\ntherefore on that New Year tide, he abode, fair of face, on the throne,\nand made much mirth withal.\n\n\nOf the noble knights there present\n\nThus the king sat before the high table, and spake of many things; and\nthere good Sir Gawain was seated by Guinevere the queen, and on her\nother side sat Agravain,[1] _\u00e0 la dure main_; both were the king\u2019s\nsister\u2019s sons and full gallant knights. And at the end of the table was\nBishop Bawdewyn, and Ywain, King Urien\u2019s son, sat at the other side\nalone. These were worthily served on the da\u00efs, and at the lower tables\nsat many valiant knights. Then they bare the first course with the blast\nof trumpets and waving of banners, with the sound of drums and pipes, of\nsong and lute, that many a heart was uplifted at the melody. Many were\nthe dainties, and rare the meats, so great was the plenty they might\nscarce find room on the board to set on the dishes. Each helped himself\nas he liked best, and to each two were twelve dishes, with great plenty\nof beer and wine.\n\n\nThe coming of the Green Knight\n\nNow I will say no more of the service, but that ye may know there was no\nlack, for there drew near a venture that the folk might well have left\ntheir labour to gaze upon. As the sound of the music ceased, and the\nfirst course had been fitly served, there came in at the hall door one\nterrible to behold, of stature greater than any on earth; from neck to\nloin so strong and thickly made, and with limbs so long and so great\nthat he seemed even as a giant. And yet he was but a man, only the\nmightiest that might mount a steed; broad of chest and shoulders and\nslender of waist, and all his features of like fashion; but men\nmarvelled much at his colour, for he rode even as a knight, yet was\ngreen all over.\n\n\nThe fashion of the knight\n\nFor he was clad all in green, with a straight coat, and a mantle above;\nall decked and lined with fur was the cloth and the hood that was thrown\nback from his locks and lay on his shoulders. Hose had he of the same\ngreen, and spurs of bright gold with silken fastenings richly worked;\nand all his vesture was verily green. Around his waist and his saddle\nwere bands with fair stones set upon silken work, \u2019twere too long to\ntell of all the trifles that were embroidered thereon\u2014birds and insects\nin gay gauds of green and gold.\n\n\nOf the knight\u2019s steed\n\nAll the trappings of his steed were of metal of like enamel, even the\nstirrups that he stood in stained of the same, and stirrups and\nsaddle-bow alike gleamed and shone with green stones. Even the steed on\nwhich he rode was of the same hue, a green horse, great and strong, and\nhard to hold, with broidered bridle, meet for the rider.\n\nThe knight was thus gaily dressed in green, his hair falling around his\nshoulders, on his breast hung a beard, as thick and green as a bush, and\nthe beard and the hair of his head were clipped all round above his\nelbows. The lower part of his sleeves were fastened with clasps in the\nsame wise as a king\u2019s mantle. The horse\u2019s mane was crisped and plaited\nwith many a knot folded in with gold thread about the fair green, here a\ntwist of the hair, here another of gold. The tail was twined in like\nmanner, and both were bound about with a band of bright green set with\nmany a precious stone; then they were tied aloft in a cunning knot,\nwhereon rang many bells of burnished gold. Such a steed might no other\nride, nor had such ever been looked upon in that hall ere that time; and\nall who saw that knight spake and said that a man might scarce abide his\nstroke.\n\n\nThe arming of the knight\n\nThe knight bore no helm nor hauberk, neither gorget nor breast-plate,\nneither shaft nor buckler to smite nor to shield, but in one hand he had\na holly-bough, that is greenest when the groves are bare, and in his\nother an axe, huge and uncomely, a cruel weapon in fashion, if one would\npicture it. The head was an ell-yard long, the metal all of green steel\nand gold, the blade burnished bright, with a broad edge, as well shapen\nto shear as a sharp razor. The steel was set into a strong staff, all\nbound round with iron, even to the end, and engraved with green in\ncunning work. A lace was twined about it, that looped at the head, and\nall adown the handle it was clasped with tassels on buttons of bright\ngreen richly broidered.\n\nThe knight halted in the entrance of the hall, looking to the high da\u00efs,\nand greeted no man, but looked ever upwards; and the first words he\nspake were, \u201cWhere is the ruler of this folk? I would gladly look upon\nthat hero, and have speech with him.\u201d He cast his eyes on the knights,\nand mustered them up and down, striving ever to see who of them was of\nmost renown.\n\nThen was there great gazing to behold that chief, for each man marvelled\nwhat it might mean that a knight and his steed should have even such a\nhue as the green grass; and that seemed even greener than green enamel\non bright gold. All looked on him as he stood, and drew near unto him\nwondering greatly what he might be; for many marvels had they seen, but\nnone such as this, and phantasm and fa\u00ebrie did the folk deem it.\nTherefore were the gallant knights slow to answer, and gazed astounded,\nand sat stone still in a deep silence through that goodly hall, as if a\nslumber were fallen upon them. I deem it was not all for doubt, but some\nfor courtesy that they might give ear unto his errand.\n\nThen Arthur beheld this adventure before his high da\u00efs, and knightly he\ngreeted him, for discourteous was he never. \u201cSir,\u201d he said, \u201cthou art\nwelcome to this place\u2014lord of this hall am I, and men call me Arthur.\nLight thee down, and tarry awhile, and what thy will is, that shall we\nlearn after.\u201d\n\n\nOf the knight\u2019s challenge\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth the stranger, \u201cso help me He that sitteth on high, \u2019twas\nnot mine errand to tarry any while in this dwelling; but the praise of\nthis thy folk and thy city is lifted up on high, and thy warriors are\nholden for the best and the most valiant of those who ride mail-clad to\nthe fight. The wisest and the worthiest of this world are they, and well\nproven in all knightly sports. And here, as I have heard tell, is\nfairest courtesy, therefore have I come hither as at this time. Ye may\nbe sure by the branch that I bear here that I come in peace, seeking no\nstrife. For had I willed to journey in warlike guise I have at home both\nhauberk and helm, shield and shining spear, and other weapons to mine\nhand, but since I seek no war my raiment is that of peace. But if thou\nbe as bold as all men tell thou wilt freely grant me the boon I ask.\u201d\n\nAnd Arthur answered, \u201cSir Knight, if thou cravest battle here thou shalt\nnot fail for lack of a foe.\u201d\n\nAnd the knight answered, \u201cNay, I ask no fight, in faith here on the\nbenches are but beardless children, were I clad in armour on my steed\nthere is no man here might match me. Therefore I ask in this court but a\nChristmas jest, for that it is Yule-tide, and New Year, and there are\nmany here. If any one in this hall holds himself so hardy,[2] so bold\nboth of blood and brain, as to dare strike me one stroke for another, I\nwill give him as a gift this axe, which is heavy enough, in sooth, to\nhandle as he may list, and I will abide the first blow, unarmed as I\nsit. If any knight be so bold as to prove my words let him come swiftly\nto me here, and take this weapon, I quit claim to it, he may keep it as\nhis own, and I will abide his stroke, firm on the floor. Then shalt thou\ngive me the right to deal him another, the respite of a year from to-day\nshall he have. Now pledge me thy word, and let see whether any here dare\nsay aught.\u201d\n\n\nThe silence of the knights\n\nNow if the knights had been astounded at the first, yet stiller were\nthey all, high and low, when they had heard his words. The knight on his\nsteed straightened himself in the saddle, and rolled his eyes fiercely\nround the hall, red they gleamed under his green and bushy brows. He\nfrowned and twisted his beard, waiting to see who should rise, and when\nnone answered he cried aloud in mockery, \u201cWhat, is this Arthur\u2019s hall,\nand these the knights whose renown hath run through many realms? Where\nare now your pride and your conquests, your wrath, and anger, and mighty\nwords? Now are the praise and the renown of the Round Table overthrown\nby one man\u2019s speech, since all keep silence for dread ere ever they have\nseen a blow!\u201d\n\nWith that he laughed so loudly that the blood rushed to the king\u2019s fair\nface for very shame; he waxed wroth, as did all his knights, and sprang\nto his feet, and drew near to the stranger and said, \u201cNow by heaven\nfoolish is thine asking, and thy folly shall find its fitting answer. I\nknow no man aghast at thy great words. Give me here thine axe and I\nshall grant thee the boon thou hast asked.\u201d Lightly he sprang to him and\ncaught at his hand, and the knight, fierce of aspect, lighted down from\nhis charger.\n\nThen Arthur took the axe and gripped the haft, and swung it round, ready\nto strike. And the knight stood before him, taller by the head than any\nin the hall; he stood, and stroked his beard, and drew down his coat, no\nmore dismayed for the king\u2019s threats than if one had brought him a drink\nof wine.\n\n\nHow Sir Gawain dared the venture\n\nThen Gawain, who sat by the queen, leaned forward to the king and spake,\n\u201cI beseech ye, my lord, let this venture be mine. Would ye but bid me\nrise from this seat, and stand by your side, so that my liege lady\nthought it not ill, then would I come to your counsel before this goodly\ncourt. For I think it not seemly that such challenge should be made in\nyour hall that ye yourself should undertake it, while there are many\nbold knights who sit beside ye, none are there, methinks, of readier\nwill under heaven, or more valiant in open field. I am the weakest, I\nwot, and the feeblest of wit, and it will be the less loss of my life if\nye seek sooth. For save that ye are mine uncle naught is there in me to\npraise, no virtue is there in my body save your blood, and since this\nchallenge is such folly that it beseems ye not to take it, and I have\nasked it from ye first, let it fall to me, and if I bear myself\nungallantly then let all this court blame me.\u201d\n\nThen they all spake with one voice that the king should leave this\nventure and grant it to Gawain.\n\nThen Arthur commanded the knight to rise, and he rose up quickly and\nknelt down before the king, and caught hold of the weapon; and the king\nloosed his hold of it, and lifted up his hand, and gave him his\nblessing, and bade him be strong both of heart and hand. \u201cKeep thee\nwell, nephew,\u201d quoth Arthur, \u201cthat thou give him but the one blow, and\nif thou redest him rightly I trow thou shalt well abide the stroke he\nmay give thee after.\u201d\n\n\nThe making of the covenant\n\nGawain stepped to the stranger, axe in hand, and he, never fearing,\nawaited his coming. Then the Green Knight spake to Sir Gawain, \u201cMake we\nour covenant ere we go further. First, I ask thee, knight, what is thy\nname? Tell me truly, that I may know thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn faith,\u201d quoth the good knight, \u201cGawain am I, who give thee this\nbuffet, let what may come of it; and at this time twelvemonth will I\ntake another at thine hand with whatsoever weapon thou wilt, and none\nother.\u201d\n\nThen the other answered again, \u201cSir Gawain, so may I thrive as I am fain\nto take this buffet at thine hand,\u201d and he quoth further, \u201cSir Gawain,\nit liketh me well that I shall take at thy fist that which I have asked\nhere, and thou hast readily and truly rehearsed all the covenant that I\nasked of the king, save that thou shalt swear me, by thy troth, to seek\nme thyself wherever thou hopest that I may be found, and win thee such\nreward as thou dealest me to-day, before this folk.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere shall I seek thee?\u201d quoth Gawain. \u201cWhere is thy place? By Him\nthat made me, I wot never where thou dwellest, nor know I thee, knight,\nthy court, nor thy name. But teach me truly all that pertaineth thereto,\nand tell me thy name, and I shall use all my wit to win my way thither,\nand that I swear thee for sooth, and by my sure troth.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is enough in the New Year, it needs no more,\u201d quoth the Green\nKnight to the gallant Gawain, \u201cif I tell thee truly when I have taken\nthe blow, and thou hast smitten me; then will I teach thee of my house\nand home, and mine own name, then mayest thou ask thy road and keep\ncovenant. And if I waste no words then farest thou the better, for thou\ncanst dwell in thy land, and seek no further. But take now thy toll, and\nlet see how thy strikest.\u201d\n\n\u201cGladly will I,\u201d quoth Gawain, handling his axe.\n\n\nThe giving of the blow\n\nThen the Green Knight swiftly made him ready, he bowed down his head,\nand laid his long locks on the crown that his bare neck might be seen.\nGawain gripped his axe and raised it on high, the left foot he set\nforward on the floor, and let the blow fall lightly on the bare neck.\nThe sharp edge of the blade sundered the bones, smote through the neck,\nand clave it in two, so that the edge of the steel bit on the ground,\nand the head rolled even to the horse\u2019s feet.\n\n\nThe marvel of the Green Knight\n\nThe blood spurted forth, and glistened on the green raiment, but the\nknight neither faltered nor fell; he started forward with out-stretched\nhand, and caught the head, and lifted it up; then he turned to his\nsteed, and took hold of the bridle, set his foot in the stirrup, and\nmounted. His head he held by the hair, in his hand. Then he seated\nhimself in his saddle as if naught ailed him, and he were not headless.\nHe turned his steed about, the grim corpse bleeding freely the while,\nand they who looked upon him doubted them much for the covenant.\n\nFor he held up the head in his hand, and turned the face towards them\nthat sat on the high da\u00efs, and it lifted up the eye-lids and looked upon\nthem, and spake as ye shall hear. \u201cLook, Gawain, that thou art ready to\ngo as thou hast promised, and seek leally till thou find me, even as\nthou hast sworn in this hall in the hearing of these knights. Come thou,\nI charge thee, to the Green Chapel, such a stroke as thou hast dealt\nthou hast deserved, and it shall be promptly paid thee on New Year\u2019s\nmorn. Many men know me as the knight of the Green Chapel, and if thou\naskest thou shalt not fail to find me. Therefore it behoves thee to\ncome, or to yield thee as recreant.\u201d\n\nWith that he turned his bridle, and galloped out at the hall door, his\nhead in his hands, so that the sparks flew from beneath his horse\u2019s\nhoofs. Whither he went none knew, no more than they wist whence he had\ncome; and the king and Gawain they gazed and laughed, for in sooth this\nhad proved a greater marvel than any they had known aforetime.\n\nThough Arthur the king was astonished at his heart, yet he let no sign\nof it be seen, but spake in courteous wise to the fair queen: \u201cDear\nlady, be not dismayed, such craft is well suited to Christmas-tide when\nwe seek jesting, laughter and song, and fair carols of knights and\nladies. But now I may well get me to meat, for I have seen a marvel I\nmay not forget.\u201d Then he looked on Sir Gawain, and said gaily, \u201cNow,\nfair nephew, hang up thine axe, since it has hewn enough,\u201d and they hung\nit on the dossal above the da\u00efs, where all men might look on it for a\nmarvel, and by its true token tell of the wonder. Then the twain sat\nthem down together, the king and the good knight, and men served them\nwith a double portion, as was the share of the noblest, with all manner\nof meat and of minstrelsy. And they spent that day in gladness, but Sir\nGawain must well bethink him of the heavy venture to which he had set\nhis hand.\n\n\n\n\n                                   II\n\n\n    [Illustration: Illustrated drop-cap]\n\nThis beginning of adventures had Arthur at the New Year, for he yearned\nto hear gallant tales, though his words were few when he sat at the\nfeast. But now had they stern work on hand. Gawain was glad to begin the\njest in the hall, but ye need have no marvel if the end be heavy. For\nthough a man be merry in mind when he has well drunk, yet a year runs\nfull swiftly, and the beginning but rarely matches the end.\n\n\nThe waning of the year\n\nFor Yule was now over-past,[3] and the year after, each season in its\nturn following the other. For after Christmas comes crabbed Lent, that\nwill have fish for flesh and simpler cheer. But then the weather of the\nworld chides with winter; the cold withdraws itself, the clouds uplift,\nand the rain falls in warm showers on the fair plains. Then the flowers\ncome forth, meadows and groves are clad in green, the birds make ready\nto build, and sing sweetly for solace of the soft summer that follows\nthereafter. The blossoms bud and blow in the hedgerows rich and rank,\nand noble notes enough are heard in the fair woods.\n\nAfter the season of summer, with the soft winds, when zephyr breathes\nlightly on seeds and herbs, joyous indeed is the growth that waxes\nthereout when the dew drips from the leaves beneath the blissful glance\nof the bright sun. But then comes harvest and hardens the grain, warning\nit to wax ripe ere the winter. The drought drives the dust on high,\nflying over the face of the land; the angry wind of the welkin wrestles\nwith the sun; the leaves fall from the trees and light upon the ground,\nand all brown are the groves that but now were green, and ripe is the\nfruit that once was flower. So the year passes into many yesterdays, and\nwinter comes again, as it needs no sage to tell us.\n\n\nSir Gawain bethinks him of his covenant\n\nWhen the Michaelmas moon was come in with warnings of winter, Sir Gawain\nbethought him full oft of his perilous journey. Yet till All Hallows Day\nhe lingered with Arthur, and on that day they made a great feast for the\nhero\u2019s sake, with much revel and richness of the Round Table. Courteous\nknights and comely ladies, all were in sorrow for the love of that\nknight, and though they spake no word of it many were joyless for his\nsake.\n\nAnd after meat, sadly Sir Gawain turned to his uncle, and spake of his\njourney, and said, \u201cLiege lord of my life, leave from you I crave. Ye\nknow well how the matter stands without more words, to-morrow am I bound\nto set forth in search of the Green Knight.\u201d\n\nThen came together all the noblest knights, Ywain and Erec, and many\nanother. Sir Dodinel le Sauvage, Launcelot and Lionel, and Lucan the\nGood, Sir Bors and Sir Bedivere, valiant knights both, and many another\nhero, with Sir Mador de la Porte, and they all drew near, heavy at\nheart, to take counsel with Sir Gawain. Much sorrow and weeping was\nthere in the hall to think that so worthy a knight as Gawain should wend\nhis way to seek a deadly blow, and should no more wield his sword in\nfight. But the knight made ever good cheer, and said, \u201cNay, wherefore\nshould I shrink? What may a man do but prove his fate?\u201d\n\n\nThe arming of Sir Gawain\n\nHe dwelt there all that day, and on the morn he arose and asked betimes\nfor his armour; and they brought it unto him on this wise: first, a rich\ncarpet was stretched on the floor[4] (and brightly did the gold gear\nglitter upon it), then the knight stepped on to it, and handled the\nsteel; clad he was in a doublet of silk, with a close hood, lined fairly\nthroughout. Then they set the steel shoes upon his feet, and wrapped his\nlegs with greaves, with polished knee-caps fastened with knots of gold.\nThen they cased his thighs in cuisses closed with thongs, and brought\nhim the byrny of bright steel rings sewn upon a fair stuff. Well\nburnished braces they set on each arm with good elbow-pieces, and gloves\nof mail, and all the goodly gear that should shield him in his need. And\nthey cast over all a rich surcoat, and set the golden spurs on his\nheels, and girt him with a trusty sword fastened with a silken bawdrick.\nWhen he was thus clad his harness was costly, for the least loop or\nlatchet gleamed with gold. So armed as he was he hearkened Mass and made\nhis offering at the high altar. Then he came to the king, and the\nknights of his court, and courteously took leave of lords and ladies,\nand they kissed him, and commended him to Christ.\n\nWith that was Gringalet ready, girt with a saddle that gleamed gaily\nwith many golden fringes, enriched and decked anew for the venture. The\nbridle was all barred about with bright gold buttons, and all the\ncovertures and trappings of the steed, the crupper and the rich skirts,\naccorded with the saddle; spread fair with the rich red gold that\nglittered and gleamed in the rays of the sun.\n\nThen the knight called for his helmet, which was well lined throughout,\nand set it high on his head, and hasped it behind. He wore a light\nkerchief over the vintail, that was broidered and studded with fair gems\non a broad silken ribbon, with birds of gay colour, and many a turtle\nand true-lover\u2019s knot interlaced thickly, even as many a maiden had\nwrought them. But the circlet which crowned his helmet was yet more\nprecious, being adorned with a device in diamonds. Then they brought him\nhis shield, which was of bright red, with the pentangle painted thereon\nin gleaming gold.[5]\n\n\nWherefore Sir Gawain bare the pentangle\n\nAnd why that noble prince bare the pentangle I am minded to tell you,\nthough my tale tarry thereby. It is a sign that Solomon set ere-while,\nas betokening truth; for it is a figure with five points and each line\noverlaps the other, and nowhere hath it beginning or end, so that in\nEnglish it is called \u201cthe endless knot.\u201d And therefore was it well\nsuiting to this knight and to his arms, since Gawain was faithful in\nfive and five-fold, for pure was he as gold, void of all villainy and\nendowed with all virtues. Therefore he bare the pentangle on shield and\nsurcoat as truest of heroes and gentlest of knights.\n\nFor first he was faultless in his five senses; and his five fingers\nnever failed him; and all his trust upon earth was in the five wounds\nthat Christ bare on the cross, as the Creed tells. And wherever this\nknight found himself in stress of battle he deemed well that he drew his\nstrength from the five joys which the Queen of Heaven had of her Child.\nAnd for this cause did he bear an image of Our Lady on the one half of\nhis shield, that whenever he looked upon it he might not lack for aid.\nAnd the fifth five that the hero used were frankness and fellowship\nabove all, purity and courtesy that never failed him, and compassion\nthat surpasses all; and in these five virtues was that hero wrapped and\nclothed. And all these, five-fold, were linked one in the other, so that\nthey had no end, and were fixed on five points that never failed,\nneither at any side were they joined or sundered, nor could ye find\nbeginning or end. And therefore on his shield was the knot shapen,\nred-gold upon red, which is the pure pentangle. Now was Sir Gawain\nready, and he took his lance in hand, and bade them all _Farewell_, he\ndeemed it had been for ever.\n\n\nHow Sir Gawain went forth\n\nThen he smote the steed with his spurs, and sprang on his way, so that\nsparks flew from the stones after him. All that saw him were grieved at\nheart, and said one to the other, \u201cBy Christ, \u2019tis great pity that one\nof such noble life should be lost! I\u2019 faith, \u2019twere not easy to find his\nequal upon earth. The king had done better to have wrought more warily.\nYonder knight should have been made a duke; a gallant leader of men is\nhe, and such a fate had beseemed him better than to be hewn in pieces at\nthe will of an elfish man, for mere pride. Who ever knew a king to take\nsuch counsel as to risk his knights on a Christmas jest?\u201d Many were the\ntears that flowed from their eyes when that goodly knight rode from the\nhall. He made no delaying, but went his way swiftly, and rode many a\nwild road, as I heard say in the book.\n\n\nOf Sir Gawain\u2019s journey\n\nSo rode Sir Gawain through the realm of Logres, on an errand that he\nheld for no jest. Often he lay companionless at night, and must lack the\nfare that he liked. No comrade had he save his steed, and none save God\nwith whom to take counsel. At length he drew nigh to North Wales, and\nleft the isles of Anglesey on his left hand, crossing over the fords by\nthe foreland over at Holyhead, till he came into the wilderness of\nWirral,[6] that is loved neither of God nor of man, and there he abode\nbut a little time. And ever he asked, as he fared, of all whom he met,\nif they had heard any tidings of a Green Knight in the country\nthereabout, or of a Green Chapel? And all answered him, Nay, never in\ntheir lives had they seen any man of such a hue. And the knight wended\nhis way by many a strange road and many a rugged path, and the fashion\nof his countenance changed full often ere he saw the Green Chapel.\n\nMany a cliff did he climb in that unknown land, where afar from his\nfriends he rode as a stranger. Never did he come to a stream or a ford\nbut he found a foe before him, and that one so marvellous, so foul and\nfell, that it behoved him to fight. So many wonders did that knight\nbehold that it were too long to tell the tenth part of them. Sometimes\nhe fought with dragons and wolves; sometimes with wild men that dwelt in\nthe rocks; another while with bulls, and bears, and wild boars, or with\ngiants of the high moorland that drew near to him. Had he not been a\ndoughty knight, enduring, and of well-proved valour, doubtless he had\nbeen slain, for he was oft in danger of death. Yet he cared not so much\nfor the strife, what he deemed worse was when the cold clear water was\nshed from the clouds, and froze ere it fell on the fallow ground. More\nnights than enough he slept in his harness on the bare rocks, near slain\nwith the sleet, while the stream leapt bubbling from the crest of the\nhills, and hung in hard icicles over his head.\n\nThus in peril and pain, and many a hardship, the knight rode alone till\nChristmas Eve, and in that tide he made his prayer to the Blessed Virgin\nthat she would guide his steps and lead him to some dwelling. On that\nmorning he rode by a hill, and came into a thick forest, wild and drear;\non each side were high hills, and thick woods below them of great hoar\noaks, a hundred together, of hazel and hawthorn with their trailing\nboughs intertwined, and rough ragged moss spreading everywhere. On the\nbare twigs the birds chirped piteously, for pain of the cold. The knight\nupon Gringalet rode lonely beneath them, through marsh and mire, much\ntroubled at heart lest he should fail to see the service of the Lord,\nwho on that self-same night was born of a Maiden for the cure of our\ngrief; and therefore he said, sighing, \u201cI beseech Thee, Lord, and Mary\nThy gentle Mother, for some shelter where I may hear Mass, and Thy\nmattins at morn. This I ask meekly, and thereto I pray my Paternoster,\nAve, and Credo.\u201d Thus he rode praying, and lamenting his misdeeds, and\nhe crossed himself, and said, \u201cMay the Cross of Christ speed me.\u201d\n\n\nHow Sir Gawain came to a fair castle on Christmas Eve\n\nNow that knight had crossed himself but thrice ere he was aware in the\nwood of a dwelling within a moat, above a lawn, on a mound surrounded by\nmany mighty trees that stood round the moat. \u2019Twas the fairest castle\nthat ever a knight owned;[7] built in a meadow with a park all about it,\nand a spiked palisade, closely driven, that enclosed the trees for more\nthan two miles. The knight was ware of the hold from the side, as it\nshone through the oaks. Then he lifted off his helmet, and thanked\nChrist and S. Julian that they had courteously granted his prayer, and\nhearkened to his cry. \u201cNow,\u201d quoth the knight, \u201cI beseech ye, grant me\nfair hostel.\u201d Then he pricked Gringalet with his golden spurs, and rode\ngaily towards the great gate, and came swiftly to the bridge end.\n\nThe bridge was drawn up and the gates close shut; the walls were strong\nand thick, so that they might fear no tempest. The knight on his charger\nabode on the bank of the deep double ditch that surrounded the castle.\nThe walls were set deep in the water, and rose aloft to a wondrous\nheight; they were of hard hewn stone up to the corbels, which were\nadorned beneath the battlements with fair carvings, and turrets set in\nbetween with many a loophole; a better barbican Sir Gawain had never\nlooked upon. And within he beheld the high hall, with its tower and many\nwindows with carven cornices, and chalk-white chimneys on the turreted\nroofs that shone fair in the sun. And everywhere, thickly scattered on\nthe castle battlements, were pinnacles, so many that it seemed as if it\nwere all wrought out of paper, so white was it.\n\nThe knight on his steed deemed it fair enough, if he might come to be\nsheltered within it to lodge there while that the Holy-day lasted. He\ncalled aloud, and soon there came a porter of kindly countenance, who\nstood on the wall and greeted this knight and asked his errand.\n\n\u201cGood sir,\u201d quoth Gawain, \u201cwilt thou go mine errand to the high lord of\nthe castle, and crave for me lodging?\u201d\n\n\u201cYea, by S. Peter,\u201d quoth the porter. \u201cIn sooth I trow that ye be\nwelcome to dwell here so long as it may like ye.\u201d\n\n\nHow Sir Gawain was welcomed\n\nThen he went, and came again swiftly, and many folk with him to receive\nthe knight. They let down the great drawbridge, and came forth and knelt\non their knees on the cold earth to give him worthy welcome. They held\nwide open the great gates, and he greeted them courteously, and rode\nover the bridge. Then men came to him and held his stirrup while he\ndismounted, and took and stabled his steed. There came down knights and\nsquires to bring the guest with joy to the hall. When he raised his\nhelmet there were many to take it from his hand, fain to serve him, and\nthey took from him sword and shield.\n\nSir Gawain gave good greeting to the nobles and the mighty men who came\nto do him honour. Clad in his shining armour they led him to the hall,\nwhere a great fire burnt brightly on the floor; and the lord of the\nhousehold came forth from his chamber to meet the hero fitly. He spake\nto the knight, and said: \u201cYe are welcome to do here as it likes ye. All\nthat is here is your own to have at your will and disposal.\u201d\n\n\u201cGramercy!\u201d quote Gawain, \u201cmay Christ requite ye.\u201d\n\nAs friends that were fain each embraced the other; and Gawain looked on\nthe knight who greeted him so kindly, and thought \u2019twas a bold warrior\nthat owned that burg.\n\nOf mighty stature he was, and of high age; broad and flowing was his\nbeard, and of a bright hue. He was stalwart of limb, and strong in his\nstride, his face fiery red, and his speech free: in sooth he seemed one\nwell fitted to be a leader of valiant men.\n\nThen the lord led Sir Gawain to a chamber, and commanded folk to wait\nupon him, and at his bidding there came men enough who brought the guest\nto a fair bower. The bedding was noble, with curtains of pure silk\nwrought with gold, and wondrous coverings of fair cloth all embroidered.\nThe curtains ran on ropes with rings of red gold, and the walls were\nhung with carpets of Orient, and the same spread on the floor. There\nwith mirthful speeches they took from the guest his byrny and all his\nshining armour, and brought him rich robes of the choicest in its stead.\nThey were long and flowing, and became him well, and when he was clad in\nthem all who looked on the hero thought that surely God had never made a\nfairer knight: he seemed as if he might be a prince without peer in the\nfield where men strive in battle.\n\nThen before the hearth-place, whereon the fire burned, they made ready a\nchair for Gawain, hung about with cloth and fair cushions; and there\nthey cast around him a mantle of brown samite, richly embroidered and\nfurred within with costly skins of ermine, with a hood of the same, and\nhe seated himself in that rich seat, and warmed himself at the fire and\nwas cheered at heart. And while he sat thus the serving men set up a\ntable on trestles, and covered it with a fair white cloth, and set\nthereon salt-cellar, and napkin, and silver spoons; and the knight\nwashed at his will, and set him down to meat.\n\nThe folk served him courteously with many dishes seasoned of the best, a\ndouble portion. All kinds of fish were there, some baked in bread, some\nbroiled on the embers, some sodden, some stewed and savoured with\nspices, with all sorts of cunning devices to his taste. And often he\ncalled it a feast, when they spake gaily to him all together, and said,\n\u201cNow take ye this penance, and it shall be for your amendment.\u201d Much\nmirth thereof did Sir Gawain make.\n\n\nSir Gawain tells his name\n\nThen they questioned that prince courteously of whence he came; and he\ntold them that he was of the court of Arthur, who is the rich royal King\nof the Round Table, and that it was Gawain himself who was within their\nwalls, and would keep Christmas with them, as the chance had fallen out.\nAnd when the lord of the castle heard those tidings he laughed aloud for\ngladness, and all men in that keep were joyful that they should be in\nthe company of him to whom belonged all fame, and valour, and courtesy,\nand whose honour was praised above that of all men on earth. Each said\nsoftly to his fellow, \u201cNow shall we see courteous bearing, and the\nmanner of speech befitting courts. What charm lieth in gentle speech\nshall we learn without asking, since here we have welcomed the fine\nfather of courtesy. God has surely shewn us His grace since He sends us\nsuch a guest as Gawain! When men shall sit and sing, blithe for Christ\u2019s\nbirth, this knight shall bring us to the knowledge of fair manners, and\nit may be that hearing him we may learn the cunning speech of love.\u201d\n\nBy the time the knight had risen from dinner it was near nightfall. Then\nchaplains took their way to the chapel, and rang loudly, even as they\nshould, for the solemn evensong of the high feast. Thither went the\nlord, and the lady also, and entered with her maidens into a comely\ncloset, and thither also went Gawain. Then the lord took him by the\nsleeve and led him to a seat, and called him by his name, and told him\nhe was of all men in the world the most welcome. And Sir Gawain thanked\nhim truly, and each kissed the other, and they sat gravely together\nthroughout the service.\n\n\nThe lady of the castle\n\nThen was the lady fain to look upon that knight; and she came forth from\nher closet with many fair maidens. The fairest of ladies was she in\nface, and figure, and colouring, fairer even than Guinevere, so the\nknight thought. She came through the chancel to greet the hero, another\nlady held her by the left hand, older than she, and seemingly of high\nestate, with many nobles about her. But unlike to look upon were those\nladies, for if the younger were fair, the elder was yellow. Rich red\nwere the cheeks of the one, rough and wrinkled those of the other; the\nkerchiefs of the one were broidered with many glistening pearls, her\nthroat and neck bare, and whiter than the snow that lies on the hills;\nthe neck of the other was swathed in a gorget, with a white wimple over\nher black chin. Her forehead was wrapped in silk with many folds, worked\nwith knots, so that naught of her was seen save her black brows, her\neyes, her nose, and her lips, and those were bleared, and ill to look\nupon. A worshipful lady in sooth one might call her! In figure was she\nshort and broad, and thickly made\u2014far fairer to behold was she whom she\nled by the hand.\n\nWhen Gawain beheld that fair lady, who looked at him graciously, with\nleave of the lord he went towards them, and, bowing low, he greeted the\nelder, but the younger and fairer he took lightly in his arms, and\nkissed her courteously, and greeted her in knightly wise. Then she\nhailed him as friend, and he quickly prayed to be counted as her\nservant, if she so willed. Then they took him between them, and talking,\nled him to the chamber, to the hearth, and bade them bring spices, and\nthey brought them in plenty with the good wine that was wont to be drunk\nat such seasons. Then the lord sprang to his feet and bade them make\nmerry, and took off his hood, and hung it on a spear, and bade him win\nthe worship thereof who should make most mirth that Christmas-tide. \u201cAnd\nI shall try, by my faith, to fool it with the best, by the help of my\nfriends, ere I lose my raiment.\u201d Thus with gay words the lord made trial\nto gladden Gawain with jests that night, till it was time to bid them\nlight the tapers, and Sir Gawain took leave of them and gat him to rest.\n\n\nOf the Christmas feast\n\nIn the morn when all men call to mind how Christ our Lord was born on\nearth to die for us, there is joy, for His sake, in all dwellings of the\nworld; and so was there here on that day. For high feast was held, with\nmany dainties and cunningly cooked messes. On the da\u00efs sat gallant men,\nclad in their best. The ancient dame sat on the high seat, with the lord\nof the castle beside her. Gawain and the fair lady sat together, even in\nthe midst of the board, when the feast was served; and so throughout all\nthe hall each sat in his degree, and was served in order. There was\nmeat, there was mirth, there was much joy, so that to tell thereof would\ntake me too long, though peradventure I might strive to declare it. But\nGawain and that fair lady had much joy of each other\u2019s company through\nher sweet words and courteous converse. And there was music made before\neach prince, trumpets and drums, and merry piping; each man hearkened\nhis minstrel, and they too hearkened theirs.\n\n\nHow the feast came to an end but Gawain abode at the castle\n\nSo they held high feast that day and the next, and the third day\nthereafter, and the joy on S. John\u2019s Day was fair to hearken, for \u2019twas\nthe last of the feast, and the guests would depart in the grey of the\nmorning. Therefore they awoke early, and drank wine, and danced fair\ncarols, and at last, when it was late, each man took his leave to wend\nearly on his way. Gawain would bid his host farewell, but the lord took\nhim by the hand, and led him to his own chamber beside the hearth, and\nthere he thanked him for the favour he had shown him in honouring his\ndwelling at that high season, and gladdening his castle with his fair\ncountenance. \u201cI wis, sir, that while I live I shall be held the worthier\nthat Gawain has been my guest at God\u2019s own feast.\u201d\n\n\u201cGramercy, sir,\u201d quoth Gawain, \u201cin good faith, all the honour is yours,\nmay the High King give it ye, and I am but at your will to work your\nbehest, inasmuch as I am beholden to ye in great and small by rights.\u201d\n\nThen the lord did his best to persuade the knight to tarry with him, but\nGawain answered that he might in no wise do so. Then the host asked him\ncourteously what stern behest had driven him at the holy season from the\nking\u2019s court, to fare all alone, ere yet the feast was ended?\n\n\u201cForsooth,\u201d quoth the knight, \u201cye say but the truth: \u2019tis a high quest\nand a pressing that hath brought me afield, for I am summoned myself to\na certain place, and I know not whither in the world I may wend to find\nit; so help me Christ, I would give all the kingdom of Logres an I might\nfind it by New Year\u2019s morn. Therefore, sir, I make request of ye that ye\ntell me truly if ye ever heard word of the Green Chapel, where it may be\nfound, and the Green Knight that keeps it. For I am pledged by solemn\ncompact sworn between us to meet that knight at the New Year if so I\nwere on life; and of that same New Year it wants but little\u2014I\u2019 faith, I\nwould look on that hero more joyfully than on any other fair sight!\nTherefore, by your will, it behoves me to leave ye, for I have but\nbarely three days, and I would as fain fall dead as fail of mine\nerrand.\u201d\n\nThen the lord quoth, laughing, \u201cNow must ye needs stay, for I will show\nye your goal, the Green Chapel, ere your term be at an end, have ye no\nfear! But ye can take your ease, friend, in your bed, till the fourth\nday, and go forth on the first of the year, and come to that place at\nmid-morn to do as ye will. Dwell here till New Year\u2019s Day, and then rise\nand set forth, and ye shall be set in the way; \u2019tis not two miles\nhence.\u201d\n\nThen was Gawain glad, and he laughed gaily. \u201cNow I thank ye for this\nabove all else. Now my quest is achieved I will dwell here at your will,\nand otherwise do as ye shall ask.\u201d\n\nThen the lord took him, and set him beside him, and bade the ladies be\nfetched for their greater pleasure, tho\u2019 between themselves they had\nsolace. The lord, for gladness, made merry jest, even as one who wist\nnot what to do for joy; and he cried aloud to the knight, \u201cYe have\npromised to do the thing I bid ye: will ye hold to this behest, here, at\nonce?\u201d\n\n\u201cYea, forsooth,\u201d said that true knight, \u201cwhile I abide in your burg I am\nbound by your behest.\u201d\n\n\u201cYe have travelled from far,\u201d said the host, \u201cand since then ye have\nwaked with me, ye are not well refreshed by rest and sleep, as I know.\nYe shall therefore abide in your chamber, and lie at your ease to-morrow\nat Mass-tide, and go to meat when ye will with my wife, who shall sit\nwith ye, and comfort ye with her company till I return; and I shall rise\nearly and go forth to the chase.\u201d And Gawain agreed to all this\ncourteously.\n\n\nSir Gawain makes a covenant with his host\n\n\u201cSir knight,\u201d quoth the host, \u201cwe will make a covenant. Whatsoever I win\nin the wood shall be yours, and whatever may fall to your share, that\nshall ye exchange for it. Let us swear, friend, to make this exchange,\nhowever our hap may be, for worse or for better.\u201d\n\n\u201cI grant ye your will,\u201d quoth Gawain the good; \u201cif ye list so to do, it\nliketh me well.\u201d\n\n\u201cBring hither the wine-cup, the bargain is made,\u201d so said the lord of\nthat castle. They laughed each one, and drank of the wine, and made\nmerry, these lords and ladies, as it pleased them. Then with gay talk\nand merry jest they arose, and stood, and spoke softly, and kissed\ncourteously, and took leave of each other. With burning torches, and\nmany a serving man, was each led to his couch; yet ere they gat them to\nbed the old lord oft repeated their covenant, for he knew well how to\nmake sport.\n\n\n\n\n                                  III\n\n\n    [Illustration: Illustrated drop-cap]\n\n\nThe first day\u2019s hunting\n\nFull early, ere daylight, the folk rose up; the guests who would depart\ncalled their grooms, and they made them ready, and saddled the steeds,\ntightened up the girths, and trussed up their mails. The knights, all\narrayed for riding, leapt up lightly, and took their bridles, and each\nrode his way as pleased him best.\n\nThe lord of the land was not the last. Ready for the chase, with many of\nhis men, he ate a sop hastily when he had heard Mass, and then with\nblast of the bugle fared forth to the field.[8] He and his nobles were\nto horse ere daylight glimmered upon the earth.\n\nThen the huntsmen coupled their hounds, unclosed the kennel door, and\ncalled them out. They blew three blasts gaily on the bugles, the hounds\nbayed fiercely, and they that would go a-hunting checked and chastised\nthem. A hundred hunters there were of the best, so I have heard tell.\nThen the trackers gat them to the trysting-place and uncoupled the\nhounds, and the forest rang again with their gay blasts.\n\nAt the first sound of the hunt the game quaked for fear, and fled,\ntrembling, along the vale. They betook them to the heights, but the\nliers in wait turned them back with loud cries; the harts they let pass\nthem, and the stags with their spreading antlers, for the lord had\nforbidden that they should be slain, but the hinds and the does they\nturned back, and drave down into the valleys. Then might ye see much\nshooting of arrows. As the deer fled under the boughs a broad whistling\nshaft smote and wounded each sorely, so that, wounded and bleeding, they\nfell dying on the banks. The hounds followed swiftly on their tracks,\nand hunters, blowing the horn, sped after them with ringing shouts that\nwell-nigh burst the cliffs asunder. What game escaped those that shot\nwas run down at the outer ring. Thus were they driven on the hills, and\nharassed at the waters, so well did the men know their work, and the\ngreyhounds were so great and swift that they ran them down as fast as\nthe hunters could slay them. Thus the lord passed the day in mirth and\njoyfulness, even to nightfall.\n\n\nHow the lady of the castle came to Sir Gawain\n\nSo the lord roamed the woods, and Gawain, that good knight, lay ever\na-bed, curtained about, under the costly coverlet, while the daylight\ngleamed on the walls. And as he lay half slumbering, he heard a little\nsound at the door, and he raised his head, and caught back a corner of\nthe curtain, and waited to see what it might be. It was the lovely lady,\nthe lord\u2019s wife; she shut the door softly behind her, and turned towards\nthe bed; and Gawain laid him down softly and made as if he slept. And\nshe came lightly to the bedside, within the curtain, and sat herself\ndown beside him, to wait till he wakened. The knight lay there awhile,\nand marvelled within himself what her coming might betoken; and he said\nto himself, \u201c\u2019Twere more seemly if I asked her what hath brought her\nhither.\u201d Then he made feint to waken, and turned towards her, and opened\nhis eyes as one astonished, and crossed himself; and she looked on him\nlaughing, with her cheeks red and white, lovely to behold.\n\n\u201cGood morrow, Sir Gawain,\u201d said that fair lady; \u201cye are but a careless\nsleeper, since one can enter thus. Now are ye taken unawares, and lest\nye escape me I shall bind you in your bed; of that be ye assured!\u201d\nLaughing, she spake these words.\n\n\u201cGood morrow, fair lady,\u201d quoth Gawain blithely. \u201cI will do your will,\nas it likes me well. For I yield me readily, and pray your grace, and\nthat is best, by my faith, since I needs must do so.\u201d Thus he jested\nagain, laughing. \u201cBut an ye would, fair lady, grant me this grace that\nye pray your prisoner to rise. I would get me from bed, and array me\nbetter, then could I talk with ye in more comfort.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, forsooth, fair sir,\u201d quoth the lady, \u201cye shall not rise, I will\nrede ye better. I shall keep ye here, since ye can do no other, and talk\nwith my knight whom I have captured. For I know well that ye are Sir\nGawain, whom all the world worships, wheresoever ye may ride. Your\nhonour and your courtesy are praised by lords and ladies, by all who\nlive. Now ye are here and we are alone, my lord and his men are afield;\nthe serving men in their beds, and my maidens also, and the door shut\nupon us. And since in this hour I have him that all men love, I shall\nuse my time well with speech, while it lasts. Ye are welcome to my\ncompany, for it behoves me in sooth to be your servant.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn good faith,\u201d quoth Gawain, \u201cI think me that I am not he of whom ye\nspeak, for unworthy am I of such service as ye here proffer. In sooth, I\nwere glad if I might set myself by word or service to your pleasure; a\npure joy would it be to me!\u201d\n\n\u201cIn good faith, Sir Gawain,\u201d quoth the gay lady, \u201cthe praise and the\nprowess that pleases all ladies I lack them not, nor hold them light;\nyet are there ladies enough who would liever now have the knight in\ntheir hold, as I have ye here, to dally with your courteous words, to\nbring them comfort and to ease their cares, than much of the treasure\nand the gold that are theirs. And now, through the grace of Him who\nupholds the heavens, I have wholly in my power that which they all\ndesire!\u201d\n\nThus the lady, fair to look upon, made him great cheer, and Sir Gawain,\nwith modest words, answered her again: \u201cMadam,\u201d he quoth, \u201cmay Mary\nrequite ye, for in good faith I have found in ye a noble frankness. Much\ncourtesy have other folk shown me, but the honour they have done me is\nnaught to the worship of yourself, who knoweth but good.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy Mary,\u201d quoth the lady, \u201cI think otherwise; for were I worth all the\nwomen alive, and had I the wealth of the world in my hand, and might\nchoose me a lord to my liking, then, for all that I have seen in ye, Sir\nKnight, of beauty and courtesy and blithe semblance, and for all that I\nhave hearkened and hold for true, there should be no knight on earth to\nbe chosen before ye!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell I wot,\u201d quoth Sir Gawain, \u201cthat ye have chosen a better; but I am\nproud that ye should so prize me, and as your servant do I hold ye my\nsovereign, and your knight am I, and may Christ reward ye.\u201d\n\nSo they talked of many matters till mid-morn was past, and ever the lady\nshewed her love to him, and the knight turned her speech aside. For\nthough she were the brightest of maidens, yet had he forborne to shew\nher love for the danger that awaited him, and the blow that must be\ngiven without delay.\n\nThen the lady prayed her leave from him, and he granted it readily. And\nshe gave him good-day, with laughing glance, but he must needs marvel at\nher words:\n\n\u201cNow He that speeds fair speech reward ye this disport; but that ye be\nGawain my mind misdoubts me greatly.\u201d\n\n\u201cWherefore?\u201d quoth the knight quickly, fearing lest he had lacked in\nsome courtesy.\n\nAnd the lady spake: \u201cSo true a knight as Gawain is holden, and one so\nperfect in courtesy, would never have tarried so long with a lady but he\nwould of his courtesy have craved a kiss at parting.\u201d\n\n\nHow the lady kissed Sir Gawain\n\nThen quoth Gawain, \u201cI wot I will do even as it may please ye, and kiss\nat your commandment, as a true knight should who forbears to ask for\nfear of displeasure.\u201d\n\nAt that she came near and bent down and kissed the knight, and each\ncommended the other to Christ, and she went forth from the chamber\nsoftly.\n\nThen Sir Gawain arose and called his chamberlain and chose his garments,\nand when he was ready he gat him forth to Mass, and then went to meat,\nand made merry all day till the rising of the moon, and never had a\nknight fairer lodging than had he with those two noble ladies, the elder\nand the younger.\n\nAnd ever the lord of the land chased the hinds through holt and heath\ntill eventide, and then with much blowing of bugles and baying of hounds\nthey bore the game homeward; and by the time daylight was done all the\nfolk had returned to that fair castle. And when the lord and Sir Gawain\nmet together, then were they both well pleased. The lord commanded them\nall to assemble in the great hall, and the ladies to descend with their\nmaidens, and there, before them all, he bade the men fetch in the spoil\nof the day\u2019s hunting, and he called unto Gawain, and counted the tale of\nthe beasts, and showed them unto him, and said, \u201cWhat think ye of this\ngame, Sir Knight? Have I deserved of ye thanks for my woodcraft?\u201d\n\n\u201cYea, I wis,\u201d quoth the other, \u201chere is the fairest spoil I have seen\nthis seven year in the winter season.\u201d\n\n\nHow the covenant was kept\n\n\u201cAnd all this do I give ye, Gawain,\u201d quoth the host, \u201cfor by accord of\ncovenant ye may claim it as your own.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is sooth,\u201d quoth the other, \u201cI grant you that same; and I have\nfairly won this within walls, and with as good will do I yield it to\nye.\u201d With that he clasped his hands round the lord\u2019s neck and kissed him\nas courteously as he might. \u201cTake ye here my spoils, no more have I won;\nye should have it freely, though it were greater than this.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis good,\u201d said the host, \u201cgramercy thereof. Yet were I fain to know\nwhere ye won this same favour, and if it were by your own wit?\u201d\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d answered Gawain, \u201cthat was not in the bond. Ask me no more: ye\nhave taken what was yours by right, be content with that.\u201d\n\nThey laughed and jested together, and sat them down to supper, where\nthey were served with many dainties; and after supper they sat by the\nhearth, and wine was served out to them; and oft in their jesting they\npromised to observe on the morrow the same covenant that they had made\nbefore, and whatever chance might betide to exchange their spoil, be it\nmuch or little, when they met at night. Thus they renewed their bargain\nbefore the whole court, and then the night-drink was served, and each\ncourteously took leave of the other and gat him to bed.\n\n\nOf the second day\u2019s hunting\n\nBy the time the cock had crowed thrice the lord of the castle had left\nhis bed; Mass was sung and meat fitly served. The folk were forth to the\nwood ere the day broke, with hound and horn they rode over the plain,\nand uncoupled their dogs among the thorns. Soon they struck on the\nscent, and the hunt cheered on the hounds who were first to seize it,\nurging them with shouts. The others hastened to the cry, forty at once,\nand there rose such a clamour from the pack that the rocks rang again.\nThe huntsmen followed hard after with shouting and blasts of the horn;\nand the hounds drew together to a thicket betwixt the water and a high\ncrag in the cliff beneath the hillside. As the rough rocks were ill for\nriding the huntsmen sprang to earth and hastened on foot, and cast about\nround the hill and the thicket. The knights wist well what beast was\nwithin, and would drive him forth with the bloodhounds. And as they beat\nthe bushes, suddenly over the beaters there rushed forth a wondrous\ngreat and fierce boar, long since had he left the herd to roam by\nhimself. Grunting, he cast many to the ground, and fled forth at his\nbest speed, without more mischief. The men hallooed loudly and cried,\n\u201c_Hay! Hay!_\u201d and blew the horns to urge on the hounds, and rode swiftly\nafter the boar. Many a time did he turn to bay and tare the hounds, and\nthey yelped, and howled shrilly. Then the men made ready their arrows\nand shot at him, but the points were turned on his thick hide, and the\nbarbs would not bite upon him, for the shafts shivered in pieces, and\nthe head but leapt again wherever it hit.\n\nBut when the boar felt the stroke of the arrows he waxed mad with rage,\nand turned on the hunters and tare many, so that, affrighted, they fled\nbefore him. But the lord on a swift steed pursued him, blowing his\nbugle; as a gallant knight he rode through the woodland chasing the boar\ntill the sun grew low.\n\nSo did the hunters this day, while Sir Gawain lay in his bed lapped in\nrich gear; and the lady forgat not to salute him, for early was she at\nhis side, to cheer his mood.\n\n\nOf the lady and Sir Gawain\n\nShe came to the bedside and looked on the knight, and Gawain gave her\nfit greeting, and she greeted him again with ready words, and sat her by\nhis side and laughed, and with a sweet look she spoke to him:\n\n\u201cSir, if ye be Gawain, I think it a wonder that ye be so stern and cold,\nand care not for the courtesies of friendship, but if one teach ye to\nknow them ye cast the lesson out of your mind. Ye have soon forgotten\nwhat I taught ye yesterday, by all the truest tokens that I knew!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is that?\u201d quoth the knight. \u201cI trow I know not. If it be sooth\nthat ye say, then is the blame mine own.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I taught ye of kissing,\u201d quoth the fair lady. \u201cWherever a fair\ncountenance is shown him, it behoves a courteous knight quickly to claim\na kiss.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, my dear,\u201d said Sir Gawain, \u201ccease that speech; that durst I not do\nlest I were denied, for if I were forbidden I wot I were wrong did I\nfurther entreat.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019 faith,\u201d quoth the lady merrily, \u201cye may not be forbid, ye are strong\nenough to constrain by strength an ye will, were any so discourteous as\nto give ye denial.\u201d\n\n\u201cYea, by Heaven,\u201d said Gawain, \u201cye speak well; but threats profit little\nin the land where I dwell, and so with a gift that is given not of good\nwill! I am at your commandment to kiss when ye like, to take or to leave\nas ye list.\u201d\n\nThen the lady bent her down and kissed him courteously.\n\n\nHow the lady strove to beguile Sir Gawain with words of love\n\nAnd as they spake together she said, \u201cI would learn somewhat from ye, an\nye would not be wroth, for young ye are and fair, and so courteous and\nknightly as ye are known to be, the head of all chivalry, and versed in\nall wisdom of love and war\u2014\u2019tis ever told of true knights how they\nadventured their lives for their true love, and endured hardships for\nher favours, and avenged her with valour, and eased her sorrows, and\nbrought joy to her bower; and ye are the fairest knight of your time,\nand your fame and your honour are everywhere, yet I have sat by ye here\ntwice, and never a word have heard of love! Ye who are so courteous and\nskilled in such lore ought surely to teach one so young and unskilled\nsome little craft of true love! Why are ye so unlearned who art\notherwise so famous? Or is it that ye deem me unworthy to hearken to\nyour teaching? For shame, Sir Knight! I come hither alone and sit at\nyour side to learn of ye some skill; teach me of your wit, while my lord\nis from home.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn good faith,\u201d quoth Gawain, \u201cgreat is my joy and my profit that so\nfair a lady as ye are should deign to come hither, and trouble ye with\nso poor a man, and make sport with your knight with kindly countenance,\nit pleaseth me much. But that I, in my turn, should take it upon me to\ntell of love and such like matters to ye who know more by half, or a\nhundred fold, of such craft than I do, or ever shall in all my lifetime,\nby my troth \u2019twere folly indeed! I will work your will to the best of my\nmight as I am bounden, and evermore will I be your servant, so help me\nChrist!\u201d\n\nThen often with guile she questioned that knight that she might win him\nto woo her, but he defended himself so fairly that none might in any\nwise blame him, and naught but bliss and harmless jesting was there\nbetween them. They laughed and talked together till at last she kissed\nhim, and craved her leave of him, and went her way.\n\n\nHow the boar was slain\n\nThen the knight arose and went forth to Mass, and afterward dinner was\nserved, and he sat and spake with the ladies all day. But the lord of\nthe castle rode ever over the land chasing the wild boar, that fled\nthrough the thickets, slaying the best of his hounds and breaking their\nbacks in sunder; till at last he was so weary he might run no longer,\nbut made for a hole in a mound by a rock. He got the mound at his back\nand faced the hounds, whetting his white tusks and foaming at the mouth.\nThe huntsmen stood aloof, fearing to draw nigh him; so many of them had\nbeen already wounded that they were loth to be torn with his tusks, so\nfierce he was and mad with rage. At length the lord himself came up, and\nsaw the beast at bay, and the men standing aloof. Then quickly he sprang\nto the ground and drew out a bright blade, and waded through the stream\nto the boar.\n\nWhen the beast was ware of the knight with weapon in hand, he set up his\nbristles and snorted loudly, and many feared for their lord lest he\nshould be slain. Then the boar leapt upon the knight so that beast and\nman were one atop of the other in the water; but the boar had the worst\nof it, for the man had marked, even as he sprang, and set the point of\nhis brand to the beast\u2019s chest, and drove it up to the hilt, so that the\nheart was split in twain, and the boar fell snarling, and was swept down\nby the water to where a hundred hounds seized on him, and the men drew\nhim to shore for the dogs to slay.\n\nThen was there loud blowing of horns and baying of hounds, the huntsmen\nsmote off the boar\u2019s head, and hung the carcase by the four feet to a\nstout pole, and so went on their way homewards. The head they bore\nbefore the lord himself, who had slain the beast at the ford by force of\nhis strong hand.\n\nIt seemed him o\u2019er long ere he saw Sir Gawain in the hall, and he blew a\nblast on his horn to let all men know that he was come again to take his\npart in the covenant. And when he saw Gawain the lord laughed aloud, and\nbade them call the ladies and the household together, and he showed them\nthe game, and told them the tale, how they had hunted the wild boar\nthrough the woods, and of his length and breadth and height; and Sir\nGawain commended his deeds and praised him for his valour, well proven,\nfor so mighty a beast had he never seen before.\n\n\nThe keeping of the covenant\n\nThen they handled the huge head, and the lord said aloud, \u201cNow, Gawain,\nthis game is your own by sure covenant, as ye right well know.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis sooth,\u201d quoth the knight, \u201cand as truly will I give ye all I have\ngained.\u201d He took the host round the neck, and kissed him courteously\ntwice. \u201cNow are we quits,\u201d he said, \u201cthis eventide, of all the covenants\nthat we made since I came hither.\u201d\n\nAnd the lord answered, \u201cBy S. Giles, ye are the best I know; ye will be\nrich in a short space if ye drive such bargains!\u201d\n\nThen they set up the tables on trestles, and covered them with fair\ncloths, and lit waxen tapers on the walls. The knights sat and were\nserved in the hall, and much game and glee was there round the hearth,\nwith many songs, both at supper and after; songs of Christmas, and new\ncarols, with all the mirth one may think of. And ever that lovely lady\nsat by the knight, and with still stolen looks made such feint of\npleasing him, that Gawain marvelled much, and was wroth with himself,\nbut he could not for his courtesy return her fair glances, but dealt\nwith her cunningly, however she might strive to wrest the thing.\n\nWhen they had tarried in the hall so long as it seemed them good, they\nturned to the inner chamber and the wide hearth-place, and there they\ndrank wine, and the host proffered to renew the covenant for New Year\u2019s\nEve; but the knight craved leave to depart on the morrow, for it was\nnigh to the term when he must fulfil his pledge. But the lord would\nwithhold him from so doing, and prayed him to tarry, and said,\n\n\u201cAs I am a true knight I swear my troth that ye shall come to the Green\nChapel to achieve your task on New Year\u2019s morn, long before prime.\nTherefore abide ye in your bed, and I will hunt in this wood, and hold\nye to the covenant to exchange with me against all the spoil I may bring\nhither. For twice have I tried ye, and found ye true, and the morrow\nshall be the third time and the best. Make we merry now while we may,\nand think on joy, for misfortune may take a man whensoever it wills.\u201d\n\nThen Gawain granted his request, and they brought them drink, and they\ngat them with lights to bed.\n\n\nOf the third day\u2019s hunting\n\nSir Gawain lay and slept softly, but the lord, who was keen on\nwoodcraft, was afoot early. After Mass he and his men ate a morsel, and\nhe asked for his steed; all the knights who should ride with him were\nalready mounted before the hall gates.\n\n\u2019Twas a fair frosty morning, for the sun rose red in ruddy vapour, and\nthe welkin was clear of clouds. The hunters scattered them by a forest\nside, and the rocks rang again with the blast of their horns. Some came\non the scent of a fox, and a hound gave tongue; the huntsmen shouted,\nand the pack followed in a crowd on the trail. The fox ran before them,\nand when they saw him they pursued him with noise and much shouting, and\nhe wound and turned through many a thick grove, often cowering and\nhearkening in a hedge. At last by a little ditch he leapt out of a\nspinney, stole away slily by a copse path, and so out of the wood and\naway from the bounds. But he went, ere he wist, to a chosen tryst, and\nthree started forth on him at once, so he must needs double back, and\nbetake him to the wood again.\n\nThen was it joyful to hearken to the hounds; when all the pack had met\ntogether and had sight of their game they made as loud a din as if all\nthe lofty cliffs had fallen clattering together. The huntsmen shouted\nand threatened, and followed close upon him so that he might scarce\nescape, but Reynard was wily, and he turned and doubled upon them, and\nled the lord and his men over the hills, now on the slopes, now in the\nvales, while the knight at home slept through the cold morning beneath\nhis costly curtains.\n\n\nHow the lady came for the third time to Sir Gawain\n\nBut the fair lady of the castle rose betimes, and clad herself in a rich\nmantle that reached even to the ground, and was bordered and lined with\ncostly furs. On her head she wore no golden circlet, but a network of\nprecious stones, that gleamed and shone through her tresses in clusters\nof twenty together. Thus she came into the chamber and set open a\nwindow, and called to him gaily, \u201cSir Knight, how may ye sleep? The\nmorning is so fair.\u201d\n\nSir Gawain was deep in slumber, and in his dream he vexed him much for\nthe destiny that should befall him on the morrow, when he should meet\nthe knight at the Green Chapel, and abide his blow; but when the lady\nspake he heard her, and came to himself, and roused from his dream and\nanswered swiftly. The lady came laughing, and kissed him courteously,\nand he welcomed her fittingly with a cheerful countenance. He saw her so\nglorious and gaily dressed, so faultless of features and complexion,\nthat it warmed his heart to look upon her.\n\nThey spake to each other smiling, and all was bliss and good cheer\nbetween them. They exchanged fair words, and much happiness was therein,\nyet was there a gulf between them, and she might win no more of her\nknight, for that gallant prince watched well his words\u2014he would neither\ntake her love, nor frankly refuse it. He cared for his courtesy, lest he\nbe deemed churlish, and yet more for his honour lest he be traitor to\nhis host. \u201cGod forbid,\u201d quoth he to himself, \u201cthat it should so befall.\u201d\nThus with courteous words did he set aside all the special speeches that\ncame from her lips.\n\nThen spake the lady to the knight, \u201cYe deserve blame if ye hold not that\nlady who sits beside ye above all else in the world, if ye have not\nalready a love whom ye hold dearer, and like better, and have sworn such\nfirm faith to that lady that ye care not to loose it\u2014as I scarce may\nbelieve. And now I pray ye straitly that ye tell me that in truth, and\nhide it not.\u201d\n\nAnd the knight answered, \u201cBy S. John\u201d (and he smiled as he spake) \u201cno\nsuch love have I, nor do I think to have yet awhile.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is the worst word I may hear,\u201d quoth the lady, \u201cbut in sooth I\nhave mine answer; kiss me now courteously, and I will go hence; I can\nbut mourn as a maiden that loves much.\u201d\n\nSighing, she stooped down and kissed him, and then she rose up and spake\nas she stood, \u201cNow, dear, at our parting do me this grace: give me some\ngift, if it were but thy glove, that I may bethink me of my knight, and\nlessen my mourning.\u201d\n\n\nThe lady would fain have a parting gift from Gawain\n\n\u201cNow, I wis,\u201d quoth the knight, \u201cI would that I had here but the least\nthing that I possess on earth that I might leave ye as love-token, great\nor small, for ye have deserved forsooth more reward than I might give\nye. But it is not to your honour to have at this time a glove for reward\nas gift from Gawain, and I am here on a strange errand, and have no man\nwith me, nor mails with goodly things\u2014that mislikes me much, lady, at\nthis time; but each man must fare as he is taken, if for sorrow and\nill.\u201d\n\n\nShe would give him her ring\n\n\u201cNay, knight highly honoured,\u201d quoth that lovesome lady, \u201cthough I have\nnaught of yours, yet shall ye have somewhat of mine.\u201d With that she\nreached him a ring of red gold with a sparkling stone therein, that\nshone even as the sun (wit ye well, it was worth many marks); but the\nknight refused it, and spake readily,\n\n\u201cI will take no gift, lady, at this time. I have none to give, and none\nwill I take.\u201d\n\nShe prayed him to take it, but he refused her prayer, and sware in sooth\nthat he would not have it.\n\n\nOr her girdle\n\nThe lady was sorely vexed, and said, \u201cIf ye refuse my ring as too\ncostly, that ye will not be so highly beholden to me, I will give ye my\ngirdle[9] as a lesser gift.\u201d With that she loosened a lace that was\nfastened at her side, knit upon her kirtle under her mantle. It was\nwrought of green silk, and gold, only braided by the fingers, and that\nshe offered to the knight, and besought him though it were of little\nworth that he would take it, and he said nay, he would touch neither\ngold nor gear ere God give him grace to achieve the adventure for which\nhe had come hither. \u201cAnd therefore, I pray ye, displease ye not, and ask\nme no longer, for I may not grant it. I am dearly beholden to ye for the\nfavour ye have shown me, and ever, in heat and cold, will I be your true\nservant.\u201d\n\n\nThe virtue of the girdle\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d said the lady, \u201cye refuse this silk, for it is simple in itself,\nand so it seems, indeed; lo, it is small to look upon and less in cost,\nbut whoso knew the virtue that is knit therein he would, peradventure,\nvalue it more highly. For whatever knight is girded with this green\nlace, while he bears it knotted about him there is no man under heaven\ncan overcome him, for he may not be slain for any magic on earth.\u201d\n\n\nHow Sir Gawain took the girdle\n\nThen Gawain bethought him, and it came into his heart that this were a\njewel for the jeopardy that awaited him when he came to the Green Chapel\nto seek the return blow\u2014could he so order it that he should escape\nunslain, \u2019twere a craft worth trying. Then he bare with her chiding, and\nlet her say her say, and she pressed the girdle on him and prayed him to\ntake it, and he granted her prayer, and she gave it him with good will,\nand besought him for her sake never to reveal it but to hide it loyally\nfrom her lord; and the knight agreed that never should any man know it,\nsave they two alone. He thanked her often and heartily, and she kissed\nhim for the third time.\n\nThen she took her leave of him, and when she was gone Sir Gawain arose,\nand clad him in rich attire, and took the girdle, and knotted it round\nhim, and hid it beneath his robes. Then he took his way to the chapel,\nand sought out a priest privily, and prayed him to teach him better how\nhis soul might be saved when he should go hence; and there he shrived\nhim, and showed his misdeeds, both great and small, and besought mercy\nand craved absolution; and the priest assoiled him, and set him as clean\nas if Doomsday had been on the morrow. And afterwards Sir Gawain made\nhim merry with the ladies, with carols, and all kinds of joy, as never\nhe did but that one day, even to nightfall; and all the men marvelled at\nhim, and said that never since he came thither had he been so merry.\n\n\nThe death of the fox\n\nMeanwhile the lord of the castle was abroad chasing the fox; awhile he\nlost him, and as he rode through a spinney he heard the hounds near at\nhand, and Reynard came creeping through a thick grove, with all the pack\nat his heels. Then the lord drew out his shining brand, and cast it at\nthe beast, and the fox swerved aside for the sharp edge, and would have\ndoubled back, but a hound was on him ere he might turn, and right before\nthe horse\u2019s feet they all fell on him, and worried him fiercely,\nsnarling the while.\n\nThen the lord leapt from his saddle, and caught the fox from their jaws,\nand held it aloft over his head, and hallooed loudly, and the hunters\nhied them thither, blowing their horns; all that bare bugles blew them\nat once, and all the others shouted. \u2019Twas the merriest meeting that\never men heard, the clamour that was raised at the death of the fox.\nThey rewarded the hounds, stroking them and rubbing their heads, and\ntook Reynard and stripped him of his coat; then blowing their horns,\nthey turned them homewards, for it was nigh nightfall.\n\n\nHow Sir Gawain kept not all the covenant\n\nThe lord was gladsome at his return, and found a bright fire on the\nhearth, and the knight beside it, the good Sir Gawain, who was in joyous\nmood for the pleasure he had had with the ladies. He wore a robe of\nblue, that reached even to the ground, and a surcoat richly furred, that\nbecame him well. A hood like to the surcoat fell on his shoulders, and\nall alike were done about with fur. He met the host in the midst of the\nfloor, and jesting, he greeted him, and said, \u201cNow shall I be first to\nfulfil our covenant which we made together when there was no lack of\nwine.\u201d Then he embraced the knight, and kissed him thrice, as solemnly\nas he might.\n\n\u201cOf a sooth,\u201d quoth the other, \u201cye have good luck in the matter of this\ncovenant, if ye made a good exchange!\u201d\n\n\u201cYea, it matters naught of the exchange,\u201d quoth Gawain, \u201csince what I\nowe is swiftly paid.\u201d\n\n\u201cMarry,\u201d said the other, \u201cmine is behind, for I have hunted all this\nday, and naught have I got but this foul fox-skin, and that is but poor\npayment for three such kisses as ye have here given me.\u201d\n\n\u201cEnough,\u201d quoth Sir Gawain, \u201cI thank ye, by the Rood.\u201d\n\nThen the lord told them of his hunting, and how the fox had been slain.\n\nWith mirth and minstrelsy, and dainties at their will, they made them as\nmerry as a folk well might till \u2019twas time for them to sever, for at\nlast they must needs betake them to their beds. Then the knight took his\nleave of the lord, and thanked him fairly.\n\n\u201cFor the fair sojourn that I have had here at this high feast may the\nHigh King give ye honour. I give ye myself, as one of your servants, if\nye so like; for I must needs, as ye know, go hence with the morn, and ye\nwill give me, as ye promised, a guide to show me the way to the Green\nChapel, an God will suffer me on New Year\u2019s Day to deal the doom of my\nweird.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy my faith,\u201d quoth the host, \u201call that ever I promised, that shall I\nkeep with good will.\u201d Then he gave him a servant to set him in the way,\nand lead him by the downs, that he should have no need to ford the\nstream, and should fare by the shortest road through the groves; and\nGawain thanked the lord for the honour done him. Then he would take\nleave of the ladies, and courteously he kissed them, and spake, praying\nthem to receive his thanks, and they made like reply; then with many\nsighs they commended him to Christ, and he departed courteously from\nthat folk. Each man that he met he thanked him for his service and his\nsolace, and the pains he had been at to do his will; and each found it\nas hard to part from the knight as if he had ever dwelt with him.\n\n\nHow Sir Gawain took leave of his host\n\nThen they led him with torches to his chamber, and brought him to his\nbed to rest. That he slept soundly I may not say, for the morrow gave\nhim much to think on. Let him rest a while, for he was near that which\nhe sought, and if ye will but listen to me I will tell ye how it fared\nwith him thereafter.\n\n\n\n\n                                   IV\n\n\n    [Illustration: Illustrated drop-cap]\n\nNow the New Year drew nigh, and the night passed, and the day chased the\ndarkness, as is God\u2019s will; but wild weather wakened therewith. The\nclouds cast the cold to the earth, with enough of the north to slay them\nthat lacked clothing. The snow drave smartly, and the whistling wind\nblew from the heights, and made great drifts in the valleys. The knight,\nlying in his bed, listened, for though his eyes were shut he might sleep\nbut little, and hearkened every cock that crew.\n\nHe arose ere the day broke, by the light of a lamp that burned in his\nchamber, and called to his chamberlain, bidding him bring his armour and\nsaddle his steed. The other gat him up, and fetched his garments, and\nrobed Sir Gawain.\n\n\nThe robing of Sir Gawain\n\nFirst he clad him in his clothes to keep off the cold, and then in his\nharness, which was well and fairly kept. Both hauberk and plates were\nwell burnished, the rings of the rich byrny freed from rust, and all as\nfresh as at first, so that the knight was fain to thank them. Then he\ndid on each piece, and bade them bring his steed, while he put the\nfairest raiment on himself; his coat with its fair cognizance, adorned\nwith precious stones upon velvet, with broidered seams, and all furred\nwithin with costly skins. And he left not the lace, the lady\u2019s gift,\nthat Gawain forgot not, for his own good. When he had girded on his\nsword he wrapped the gift twice about him, swathed around his waist. The\ngirdle of green silk set gaily and well upon the royal red cloth, rich\nto behold, but the knight ware it not for pride of the pendants,\npolished though they were, with fair gold that gleamed brightly on the\nends, but to save himself from sword and knife, when it behoved him to\nabide his hurt without question. With that the hero went forth, and\nthanked that kindly folk full often.\n\n\nHow Sir Gawain went forth from the castle\n\nThen was Gringalet ready, that was great and strong, and had been well\ncared for and tended in every wise; in fair condition was that proud\nsteed, and fit for a journey. Then Gawain went to him, and looked on his\ncoat, and said by his sooth, \u201cThere is a folk in this place that\nthinketh on honour; much joy may they have, and the lord who maintains\nthem, and may all good betide that lovely lady all her life long. Since\nthey for charity cherish a guest, and hold honour in their hands, may He\nwho holds the heaven on high requite them, and also ye all. And if I\nmight live anywhile on earth, I would give ye full reward, readily, if\nso I might.\u201d Then he set foot in the stirrup and bestrode his steed, and\nhis squire gave him his shield, which he laid on his shoulder. Then he\nsmote Gringalet with his golden spurs, and the steed pranced on the\nstones and would stand no longer.\n\nBy that his man was mounted, who bare his spear and lance, and Gawain\nquoth, \u201cI commend this castle to Christ, may He give it ever good\nfortune.\u201d Then the drawbridge was let down, and the broad gates unbarred\nand opened on both sides; the knight crossed himself, and passed through\nthe gateway, and praised the porter, who knelt before the prince, and\ngave him good-day, and commended him to God. Thus the knight went on his\nway with the one man who should guide him to that dread place where he\nshould receive rueful payment.\n\nThe two went by hedges where the boughs were bare, and climbed the\ncliffs where the cold clings. Naught fell from the heavens, but \u2019twas\nill beneath them; mist brooded over the moor and hung on the mountains;\neach hill had a cap, a great cloak, of mist. The streams foamed and\nbubbled between their banks, dashing sparkling on the shores where they\nshelved downwards. Rugged and dangerous was the way through the woods,\ntill it was time for the sun-rising. Then were they on a high hill; the\nsnow lay white beside them, and the man who rode with Gawain drew rein\nby his master.\n\n\nThe squire\u2019s warning\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d he said, \u201cI have brought ye hither, and now ye are not far from\nthe place that ye have sought so specially. But I will tell ye for\nsooth, since I know ye well, and ye are such a knight as I well love,\nwould ye follow my counsel ye would fare the better.\n\n\nOf the knight of the Green Chapel\n\n\u201cThe place whither ye go is accounted full perilous, for he who liveth\nin that waste is the worst on earth, for he is strong and fierce, and\nloveth to deal mighty blows; taller is he than any man on earth, and\ngreater of frame than any four in Arthur\u2019s court, or in any other. And\nthis is his custom at the Green Chapel: there may no man pass by that\nplace, however proud his arms, but he does him to death by force of his\nhand, for he is a discourteous knight, and shews no mercy. Be he churl\nor chaplain who rides by that chapel, monk or mass-priest, or any man\nelse, he thinks it as pleasant to slay them as to pass alive himself.\nTherefore, I tell ye, as sooth as ye sit in saddle, if ye come there and\nthat knight know it, ye shall be slain, though ye had twenty lives; trow\nme that truly! He has dwelt here full long and seen many a combat; ye\nmay not defend ye against his blows. Therefore, good Sir Gawain, let the\nman be, and get ye away some other road; for God\u2019s sake seek ye another\nland, and there may Christ speed ye! And I will hie me home again, and I\npromise ye further that I will swear by God and the saints, or any other\noath ye please, that I will keep counsel faithfully, and never let any\nwit the tale that ye fled for fear of any man.\u201d\n\n\nSir Gawain is none dismayed\n\n\u201cGramercy,\u201d quoth Gawain, but ill pleased. \u201cGood fortune be his who\nwishes me good, and that thou wouldst keep faith with me I well believe;\nbut didst thou keep it never so truly, an I passed here and fled for\nfear as thou sayest, then were I a coward knight, and might not be held\nguiltless. So I will to the chapel let chance what may, and talk with\nthat man, even as I may list, whether for weal or for woe as fate may\nhave it. Fierce though he may be in fight, yet God knoweth well how to\nsave His servants.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d quoth the other, \u201cnow that ye have said so much that ye will\ntake your own harm on yourself, and ye be pleased to lose your life, I\nwill neither let nor keep ye. Have here your helm and the spear in your\nhand, and ride down this same road beside the rock till ye come to the\nbottom of the valley, and there look a little to the left hand, and ye\nshall see in that vale the chapel, and the grim man who keeps it. Now\nfare ye well, noble Gawain; for all the gold on earth I would not go\nwith ye nor bear ye fellowship one step further.\u201d With that the man\nturned his bridle into the wood, smote the horse with his spurs as hard\nas he could, and galloped off, leaving the knight alone.\n\nQuoth Gawain, \u201cI will neither greet nor groan, but commend myself to\nGod, and yield me to His will.\u201d\n\nThen the knight spurred Gringalet, and rode adown the path close in by a\nbank beside a grove. So he rode through the rough thicket, right into\nthe dale, and there he halted, for it seemed him wild enough. No sign of\na chapel could he see, but high and burnt banks on either side and rough\nrugged crags with great stones above. An ill-looking place he thought\nit.\n\nThen he drew in his horse and looked around to seek the chapel, but he\nsaw none and thought it strange. Then he saw as it were a mound on a\nlevel space of land by a bank beside the stream where it ran swiftly,\nthe water bubbled within as if boiling. The knight turned his steed to\nthe mound, and lighted down and tied the rein to the branch of a linden;\nand he turned to the mound and walked round it, questioning with himself\nwhat it might be. It had a hole at the end and at either side, and was\novergrown with clumps of grass, and it was hollow within as an old cave\nor the crevice of a crag; he knew not what it might be.\n\n\nThe finding of the chapel\n\n\u201cAh,\u201d quoth Gawain, \u201ccan this be the Green Chapel? Here might the devil\nsay his mattins at midnight! Now I wis there is wizardry here. \u2019Tis an\nugly oratory, all overgrown with grass, and \u2019twould well beseem that\nfellow in green to say his devotions on devil\u2019s wise. By my five wits,\n\u2019tis the foul fiend himself who hath set me this tryst, to destroy me\nhere! This is a chapel of mischance: ill-luck betide it, \u2019tis the\ncursedest kirk that ever I came in!\u201d\n\nHelmet on head and lance in hand, he came up to the rough dwelling, when\nhe heard over the high hill beyond the brook, as it were in a bank, a\nwondrous fierce noise, that rang in the cliff as if it would cleave\nasunder. \u2019Twas as if one ground a scythe on a grindstone, it whirred and\nwhetted like water on a mill-wheel and rushed and rang, terrible to\nhear.\n\n\u201cBy God,\u201d quoth Gawain, \u201cI trow that gear is preparing for the knight\nwho will meet me here. Alas! naught may help me, yet should my life be\nforfeit, I fear not a jot!\u201d With that he called aloud. \u201cWho waiteth in\nthis place to give me tryst? Now is Gawain come hither: if any man will\naught of him let him hasten hither now or never.\u201d\n\n\nThe coming of the Green Knight\n\n\u201cStay,\u201d quoth one on the bank above his head, \u201cand ye shall speedily\nhave that which I promised ye.\u201d Yet for a while the noise of whetting\nwent on ere he appeared, and then he came forth from a cave in the crag\nwith a fell weapon, a Danish axe newly dight, wherewith to deal the\nblow. An evil head it had, four feet large, no less, sharply ground, and\nbound to the handle by the lace that gleamed brightly. And the knight\nhimself was all green as before, face and foot, locks and beard, but now\nhe was afoot. When he came to the water he would not wade it, but sprang\nover with the pole of his axe, and strode boldly over the brent that was\nwhite with snow.\n\nSir Gawain went to meet him, but he made no low bow. The other said,\n\u201cNow, fair sir, one may trust thee to keep tryst. Thou art welcome,\nGawain, to my place. Thou hast timed thy coming as befits a true man.\nThou knowest the covenant set between us: at this time twelve months\nagone thou didst take that which fell to thee, and I at this New Year\nwill readily requite thee. We are in this valley, verily alone, here are\nno knights to sever us, do what we will. Have off thy helm from thine\nhead, and have here thy pay; make me no more talking than I did then\nwhen thou didst strike off my head with one blow.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth Gawain, \u201cby God that gave me life, I shall make no moan\nwhatever befall me, but make thou ready for the blow and I shall stand\nstill and say never a word to thee, do as thou wilt.\u201d\n\nWith that he bent his head and shewed his neck all bare, and made as if\nhe had no fear, for he would not be thought a-dread.\n\n\nHow Sir Gawain failed to stand the blow\n\nThen the Green Knight made him ready, and grasped his grim weapon to\nsmite Gawain. With all his force he bore it aloft with a mighty feint of\nslaying him: had it fallen as straight as he aimed he who was ever\ndoughty of deed had been slain by the blow. But Gawain swerved aside as\nthe axe came gliding down to slay him as he stood, and shrank a little\nwith the shoulders, for the sharp iron. The other heaved up the blade\nand rebuked the prince with many proud words:\n\n\nOf the Green Knight\u2019s reproaches\n\n\u201cThou art not Gawain,\u201d he said, \u201cwho is held so valiant, that never\nfeared he man by hill or vale, but _thou_ shrinkest for fear ere thou\nfeelest hurt. Such cowardice did I never hear of Gawain! Neither did _I_\nflinch from thy blow, or make strife in King Arthur\u2019s hall. My head fell\nto my feet, and yet I fled not, but thou didst wax faint of heart ere\nany harm befell. Wherefore must I be deemed the braver knight.\u201d\n\nQuoth Gawain, \u201cI shrank once, but so will I no more, though an _my_ head\nfall on the stones I cannot replace it. But haste, Sir Knight, by thy\nfaith, and bring me to the point, deal me my destiny, and do it out of\nhand, for I will stand thee a stroke and move no more till thine axe\nhave hit me\u2014my troth on it.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave at thee, then,\u201d quoth the other, and heaved aloft the axe with\nfierce mien, as if he were mad. He struck at him fiercely but wounded\nhim not, withholding his hand ere it might strike him.\n\nGawain abode the stroke, and flinched in no limb, but stood still as a\nstone or the stump of a tree that is fast rooted in the rocky ground\nwith a hundred roots.\n\nThen spake gaily the man in green, \u201cSo now thou hast thine heart whole\nit behoves me to smite. Hold aside thy hood that Arthur gave thee, and\nkeep thy neck thus bent lest it cover it again.\u201d\n\nThen Gawain said angrily, \u201cWhy talk on thus? Thou dost threaten too\nlong. I hope thy heart misgives thee.\u201d\n\n\nHow the Green Knight dealt the blow\n\n\u201cFor sooth,\u201d quoth the other, \u201cso fiercely thou speakest I will no\nlonger let thine errand wait its reward.\u201d Then he braced himself to\nstrike, frowning with lips and brow, \u2019twas no marvel that he who hoped\nfor no rescue misliked him. He lifted the axe lightly and let it fall\nwith the edge of the blade on the bare neck. Though he struck swiftly it\nhurt him no more than on the one side where it severed the skin. The\nsharp blade cut into the flesh so that the blood ran over his shoulder\nto the ground. And when the knight saw the blood staining the snow, he\nsprang forth, swift-foot, more than a spear\u2019s length, seized his helmet\nand set it on his head, cast his shield over his shoulder, drew out his\nbright sword, and spake boldly (never since he was born was he half so\nblithe), \u201cStop, Sir Knight, bid me no more blows. I have stood a stroke\nhere without flinching, and if thou give me another, I shall requite\nthee, and give thee as good again. By the covenant made betwixt us in\nArthur\u2019s hall but one blow falls to me here. Halt, therefore.\u201d\n\n\nOf the three covenants\n\nThen the Green Knight drew off from him, and leaned on his axe, setting\nthe shaft on the ground, and looked on Gawain as he stood all armed and\nfaced him fearlessly\u2014at heart it pleased him well. Then he spake merrily\nin a loud voice, and said to the knight, \u201cBold sir, be not so fierce, no\nman here hath done thee wrong, nor will do, save by covenant, as we made\nat Arthur\u2019s court. I promised thee a blow and thou hast it\u2014hold thyself\nwell paid! I release thee of all other claims. If I had been so minded I\nmight perchance have given thee a rougher buffet. First I menaced thee\nwith a feigned one, and hurt thee not for the covenant that we made in\nthe first night, and which thou didst hold truly. All the gain didst\nthou give me as a true man should. The other feint I proffered thee for\nthe morrow: my fair wife kissed thee, and thou didst give me her\nkisses\u2014for both those days I gave thee two blows without scathe\u2014true\nman, true return. But the third time thou didst fail, and therefore\nhadst thou that blow. For \u2019tis my weed thou wearest, that same woven\ngirdle, my own wife wrought it, that do I wot for sooth. Now know I well\nthy kisses, and thy conversation, and the wooing of my wife, for \u2019twas\nmine own doing. I sent her to try thee, and in sooth I think thou art\nthe most faultless knight that ever trode earth. As a pearl among white\npeas is of more worth than they, so is Gawain, i\u2019 faith, by other\nknights. But thou didst lack a little, Sir Knight, and wast wanting in\nloyalty, yet that was for no evil work, nor for wooing neither, but\nbecause thou lovedst thy life\u2014therefore I blame thee the less.\u201d\n\n\nThe shame of Sir Gawain\n\nThen the other stood a great while still, sorely angered and vexed\nwithin himself; all the blood flew to his face, and he shrank for shame\nas the Green Knight spake; and the first words he said were, \u201cCursed be\nye, cowardice and covetousness, for in ye is the destruction of virtue.\u201d\nThen he loosed the girdle, and gave it to the knight. \u201cLo, take there\nthe falsity, may foul befall it! For fear of thy blow cowardice bade me\nmake friends with covetousness and forsake the customs of largess and\nloyalty, which befit all knights. Now am I faulty and false and have\nbeen afeard: from treachery and untruth come sorrow and care. I avow to\nthee, Sir Knight, that I have ill done; do then thy will. I shall be\nmore wary hereafter.\u201d\n\nThen the other laughed and said gaily, \u201cI wot I am whole of the hurt I\nhad, and thou hast made such free confession of thy misdeeds, and hast\nso borne the penance of mine axe-edge, that I hold thee absolved from\nthat sin, and purged as clean as if thou hadst never sinned since thou\nwast born. And this girdle that is wrought with gold and green, like my\nraiment, do I give thee, Sir Gawain, that thou mayest think upon this\nchance when thou goest forth among princes of renown, and keep this for\na token of the adventure of the Green Chapel, as it chanced between\nchivalrous knights. And thou shalt come again with me to my dwelling and\npass the rest of this feast in gladness.\u201d Then the lord laid hold of\nhim, and said, \u201cI wot we shall soon make peace with my wife, who was thy\nbitter enemy.\u201d\n\n\nHow Sir Gawain would keep the girdle\n\n\u201cNay, forsooth,\u201d said Sir Gawain and seized his helmet and took it off\nswiftly, and thanked the knight: \u201cI have fared ill, may bliss betide\nthee, and may He who rules all things reward thee swiftly. Commend me to\nthat courteous lady, thy fair wife, and to the other my honoured ladies,\nwho have beguiled their knight with skilful craft. But \u2019tis no marvel if\none be made a fool and brought to sorrow by women\u2019s wiles, for so was\nAdam beguiled, and many a mighty man of old, Samson, and David, and\nSolomon\u2014if one might love a woman and believe her not, \u2019twere great\ngain! And since all they were beguiled by women, methinks \u2019tis the less\nblame to me that I was misled! But as for thy girdle, that will I take\nwith good will, not for gain of the gold, nor for samite, nor silk, nor\nthe costly pendants, neither for weal nor for worship, but in sign of my\nfrailty. I shall look upon it when I ride in renown and remind myself of\nthe fault and faintness of the flesh; and so when pride uplifts me for\nprowess of arms, the sight of this lace shall humble my heart. But one\nthing would I pray, if it displease thee not: since thou art lord of\nyonder land wherein I have dwelt, tell me what thy rightful name may be,\nand I will ask no more.\u201d\n\n\nHow the marvel was wrought\n\n\u201cThat will I truly,\u201d quoth the other. \u201cBernlak de Hautdesert am I called\nin this land. Morgain le Fay dwelleth in mine house,[10] and through\nknowledge of clerkly craft hath she taken many. For long time was she\nthe mistress of Merlin, who knew well all you knights of the court.\nMorgain the goddess is she called therefore, and there is none so\nhaughty but she can bring him low. She sent me in this guise to yon fair\nhall to test the truth of the renown that is spread abroad of the valour\nof the Round Table. She taught me this marvel to betray your wits, to\nvex Guinevere and fright her to death by the man who spake with his head\nin his hand at the high table. That is she who is at home, that ancient\nlady, she is even thine aunt, Arthur\u2019s half-sister, the daughter of the\nDuchess of Tintagel, who afterward married King Uther. Therefore I bid\nthee, knight, come to thine aunt, and make merry in thine house; my folk\nlove thee, and I wish thee as well as any man on earth, by my faith, for\nthy true dealing.\u201d\n\nBut Sir Gawain said nay, he would in no wise do so; so they embraced and\nkissed, and commended each other to the Prince of Paradise, and parted\nright there, on the cold ground. Gawain on his steed rode swiftly to the\nking\u2019s hall, and the Green Knight got him whithersoever he would.\n\n\nHow Sir Gawain came again to Camelot\n\nSir Gawain, who had thus won grace of his life, rode through wild ways\non Gringalet; oft he lodged in a house, and oft without, and many\nadventures did he have and came off victor full often, as at this time I\ncannot relate in tale. The hurt that he had in his neck was healed, he\nbare the shining girdle as a baldric bound by his side, and made fast\nwith a knot \u2019neath his left arm, in token that he was taken in a\nfault\u2014and thus he came in safety again to the court.\n\nThen joy awakened in that dwelling when the king knew that the good Sir\nGawain was come, for he deemed it gain. King Arthur kissed the knight,\nand the queen also, and many valiant knights sought to embrace him. They\nasked him how he had fared, and he told them all that had chanced to\nhim\u2014the adventure of the chapel, the fashion of the knight, the love of\nthe lady\u2014at last of the lace. He showed them the wound in the neck which\nhe won for his disloyalty at the hand of the knight, the blood flew to\nhis face for shame as he told the tale.\n\n\nSir Gawain makes confession of his fault\n\n\u201cLo, lady,\u201d he quoth, and handled the lace, \u201cthis is the bond of the\nblame that I bear in my neck, this is the harm and the loss I have\nsuffered, the cowardice and covetousness in which I was caught, the\ntoken of my covenant in which I was taken. And I must needs wear it so\nlong as I live, for none may hide his harm, but undone it may not be,\nfor if it hath clung to thee once, it may never be severed.\u201d\n\n\nThe knights wear the lace in honour of Gawain\n\nThen the king comforted the knight, and the court laughed loudly at the\ntale, and all made accord that the lords and the ladies who belonged to\nthe Round Table, each hero among them, should wear bound about him a\nbaldric of bright green[11] for the sake of Sir Gawain. And to this was\nagreed all the honour of the Round Table, and he who ware it was\nhonoured the more thereafter, as it is testified in the best book of\nromance.\n\n\nThe end of the tale\n\nThat in Arthur\u2019s days this adventure befell, the book of Brutus bears\nwitness. For since that bold knight came hither first, and the siege and\nthe assault were ceased at Troy, I wis\n\n  Many a venture herebefore\n    Hath fallen such as this:\n  May He that bare the crown of thorn\n    Bring us unto His bliss.\n\n\n                                 _Amen_\n\n\n\n\n                                 Notes\n\n\n[0]. Page 2.\u2014_Carol._ Dance accompanied by song. Often mentioned in old\n    romances.\n\n[1]. Page 4.\u2014_Agravain_, \u201c_\u00e0 la dure main_.\u201d This characterisation of\n    Gawain\u2019s brother seems to indicate that there was a French source at\n    the root of this story. The author distinctly tells us more than\n    once that the tale, as he tells it, was written _in a book_. M.\n    Gaston Paris thinks that the direct source was an Anglo-Norman poem,\n    now lost.\n\n[2]. Page 10.\u2014_If any in this hall holds himself so hardy._ This, the\n    main incident of the tale, is apparently of very early date. The\n    oldest version we possess is that found in the Irish tale of the\n    _Fled Bricrend_ (Bricriu\u2019s feast), where the hero of the tale is the\n    Irish champion, Cuchulinn. Two medi\u00e6val romances, the _Mule sans\n    Frein_ (French) and _Diu Kr\u00f4ne_ (German), again attribute it to\n    Gawain; while the continuator of Chr\u00e9tien de Troye\u2019s _Conte del\n    Graal_ gives as hero a certain Carados, whom he represents as\n    Arthur\u2019s nephew; and the prose _Perceval_ has Lancelot. So far as\n    the medi\u00e6val versions are concerned, the original hero is\n    undoubtedly Gawain; and our poem gives the fullest and most complete\n    form of the story we possess. In the Irish version the magician is a\n    _giant_, and the abnormal size and stature of the Green Knight is,\n    in all probability, the survival of a primitive feature. His curious\n    _colour_ is a trait found nowhere else. In _Diu Kr\u00f4ne_ we are told\n    that the challenger changes shapes in a terrifying manner, but no\n    details are given.\n\n[3]. Page 19.\u2014_For Yule was over-past._ This passage, descriptive of the\n    flight of the year, should be especially noticed. Combined with\n    other passages\u2014the description of Gawain\u2019s journey, the early\n    morning hunts, the dawning of New Year\u2019s Day, and the ride to the\n    Green Chapel\u2014they indicate a knowledge of Nature, and an observant\n    eye for her moods, uncommon among medi\u00e6val poets. It is usual enough\n    to find graceful and charming descriptions of spring and early\n    summer\u2014an appreciation of _May_ in especial, when the summer courts\n    were held, is part of the stock-in-trade of medi\u00e6val romancers\u2014but a\n    sympathy with the year in all its changes is far rarer, and\n    certainly deserves to be specially reckoned to the credit of this\n    nameless writer.\n\n[4]. Page 22.\u2014_First a rich carpet was stretched on the floor._ The\n    description of the arming of Gawain is rather more detailed in the\n    original, but some of the minor points are not easy to understand,\n    the identification of sundry of the pieces of armour being doubtful.\n\n[5]. Page 24.\u2014_The pentangle painted thereupon in gleaming gold._ I do\n    not remember that the pentangle is elsewhere attributed to Gawain.\n    He often bears a red shield; but the blazon varies. Indeed, the\n    heraldic devices borne by Arthur\u2019s knights are distractingly\n    chaotic\u2014their legends are older than the science of heraldry, and no\n    one has done for them the good office that the compiler of the\n    Thidrek Saga has rendered to his Teutonic heroes.\n\n[6]. Page 26.\u2014_The Wilderness of Wirral._ This is in Cheshire. Sir F.\n    Madden suggests that the forest which forms the final stage of\n    Gawain\u2019s journey is that of Inglewood, in Cumberland. The geography\n    here is far clearer than is often the case in such descriptions.\n\n[7]. Page 29.\u2014_\u2019Twas the fairest castle that ever a knight owned._ Here,\n    again, I have omitted some of the details of the original, the\n    architectural terms lacking identification.\n\n[8]. Page 43.\u2014_With blast of the bugle fared forth to the field._ The\n    account of each day\u2019s hunting contains a number of obsolete terms\n    and details of woodcraft, not given in full. The meaning of some has\n    been lost, and the minute description of skinning and dismembering\n    the game would be distinctly repulsive to the general reader. They\n    are valuable for a student of the history of the English sport, but\n    interfere with the progress of the story. The fact that the author\n    devotes so much space to them seems to indicate that he lived in the\n    country and was keenly interested in field sports. (Gottfried von\n    Stressbourg\u2019s _Tristan_ contains a similar and almost more detailed\n    description.)\n\n[9]. Page 65.\u2014_I will give thee my girdle._ This magic girdle, which\n    confers invulnerability on its owner, is a noticeable feature of our\n    story. It is found nowhere else in this connection, yet in other\n    romances we find that Gawain possesses a girdle with similar powers\n    (cf., my _Legend of Sir Gawain_, Chap. IX.). Such a talisman was\n    also owned by Cuchulinn, the Irish hero, who has many points of\n    contact with Gawain. It seems not improbable that this was also an\n    old feature of the story. I have commented, in the Introduction, on\n    the lady\u2019s persistent wooing of Gawain, and need not repeat the\n    remarks here. The Celtic _Lay of the Great Fool_ (_Amadan Mor_)\n    presents some curious points of contact with our story, which may,\n    however, well be noted here. In the _Lay_ the hero is mysteriously\n    deprived of his legs, through the draught from a cup proffered by a\n    _Gruagach_ or magician. He comes to a castle, the lord of which goes\n    out hunting, leaving his wife in the care of the Great Fool, who is\n    to allow no man to enter. He falls asleep, and a young knight\n    arrives and kisses the host\u2019s wife. The Great Fool, awaking, refuses\n    to allow the intruder to depart; and, in spite of threats and\n    blandishments, insists on detaining him till the husband returns.\n    Finally, the stranger reveals himself as the host in another shape;\n    he is also the _Gruagach_, who deprived the hero of his limbs, and\n    the Great Fool\u2019s brother. He has only intended to test the _Amadan\n    Mor\u2019s_ fidelity. A curious point in connection with this story is\n    that it possesses a prose opening which shows a marked affinity with\n    the \u201cPerceval\u201d _enfances_. That the Perceval and Gawain stories\n    early became connected is certain, but what is the precise\n    connection between them and the Celtic _Lay_ is not clear. _In its\n    present form_ the latter is certainly posterior to the Grail\n    romances, but it is quite possible that the matter with which it\n    deals represents a tradition older than the Arthurian story.\n\n[10]. Page 88.\u2014_Morgain le Fay, who dwelleth in my house._ The enmity\n    between Morgain le Fay and Guinevere, which is here stated to have\n    been the _motif_ of the enchantment, is no invention of the author,\n    but is found in the _Merlin_, probably the earliest of the Arthurian\n    _prose_ romances. In a later version of our story, a poem, written\n    in ballad form, and contained in the \u201cPercy\u201d MS., Morgain does not\n    appear; her place is taken by an old witch, mother to the lady, but\n    the enchantment is still due to her spells. In this later form the\n    knight bears the curious name of _Sir Bredbeddle_. That given in our\n    romance, _Bernlak de Hautdesert_, seems to point to the original\n    French source of the story. (It is curious that Morgain should here\n    be represented as extremely old, while Arthur is still in his first\n    youth. There is evidently a discrepancy or misunderstanding of the\n    source here.)\n\n[11]. Page 90.\u2014_A baldric of bright green, for sake of Sir Gawain._\u2014The\n    later version connects this _lace_ with that worn by the knights of\n    the Bath; but this latter was _white_, not _green_. The knights wore\n    it on the left shoulder till they had done some gallant deed, or\n    till some noble lady took it off for them.\n\n\n                 Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson _&_ Co.\n                           London & Edinburgh\n\n\n\n\n                          Transcriber\u2019s Notes\n\n\n\u2014Silently corrected a few typos.\n\n\u2014Retained publication information from the printed edition: this eBook\n  is public-domain in the country of publication.\n\n\u2014In the text versions only, text in italics is delimited by\n  _underscores_.\n\n\u2014Created a Table of Contents based on the sidenotes.","title":"Sir Gawain and the Green Knight: A Middle-English Arthurian Romance Retold in Modern Prose","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":22057}