Sir Gawain and the Green Knight — Part II
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight — Part II
The Gawain Poet
[Illustration: Illustrated drop-cap]
This beginning of adventures had Arthur at the New Year, for he yearned
to hear gallant tales, though his words were few when he sat at the
feast. But now had they stern work on hand. Gawain was glad to begin the
jest in the hall, but ye need have no marvel if the end be heavy. For
though a man be merry in mind when he has well drunk, yet a year runs
full swiftly, and the beginning but rarely matches the end.
The waning of the year
For Yule was now over-past,[3] and the year after, each season in its
turn following the other. For after Christmas comes crabbed Lent, that
will have fish for flesh and simpler cheer. But then the weather of the
world chides with winter; the cold withdraws itself, the clouds uplift,
and the rain falls in warm showers on the fair plains. Then the flowers
come forth, meadows and groves are clad in green, the birds make ready
to build, and sing sweetly for solace of the soft summer that follows
thereafter. The blossoms bud and blow in the hedgerows rich and rank,
and noble notes enough are heard in the fair woods.
After the season of summer, with the soft winds, when zephyr breathes
lightly on seeds and herbs, joyous indeed is the growth that waxes
thereout when the dew drips from the leaves beneath the blissful glance
of the bright sun. But then comes harvest and hardens the grain, warning
it to wax ripe ere the winter. The drought drives the dust on high,
flying over the face of the land; the angry wind of the welkin wrestles
with the sun; the leaves fall from the trees and light upon the ground,
and all brown are the groves that but now were green, and ripe is the
fruit that once was flower. So the year passes into many yesterdays, and
winter comes again, as it needs no sage to tell us.
Sir Gawain bethinks him of his covenant
When the Michaelmas moon was come in with warnings of winter, Sir Gawain
bethought him full oft of his perilous journey. Yet till All Hallows Day
he lingered with Arthur, and on that day they made a great feast for the
hero’s sake, with much revel and richness of the Round Table. Courteous
knights and comely ladies, all were in sorrow for the love of that
knight, and though they spake no word of it many were joyless for his
sake.
And after meat, sadly Sir Gawain turned to his uncle, and spake of his
journey, and said, “Liege lord of my life, leave from you I crave. Ye
know well how the matter stands without more words, to-morrow am I bound
to set forth in search of the Green Knight.”
Then came together all the noblest knights, Ywain and Erec, and many
another. Sir Dodinel le Sauvage, Launcelot and Lionel, and Lucan the
Good, Sir Bors and Sir Bedivere, valiant knights both, and many another
hero, with Sir Mador de la Porte, and they all drew near, heavy at
heart, to take counsel with Sir Gawain. Much sorrow and weeping was
there in the hall to think that so worthy a knight as Gawain should wend
his way to seek a deadly blow, and should no more wield his sword in
fight. But the knight made ever good cheer, and said, “Nay, wherefore
should I shrink? What may a man do but prove his fate?”
The arming of Sir Gawain
He dwelt there all that day, and on the morn he arose and asked betimes
for his armour; and they brought it unto him on this wise: first, a rich
carpet was stretched on the floor[4] (and brightly did the gold gear
glitter upon it), then the knight stepped on to it, and handled the
steel; clad he was in a doublet of silk, with a close hood, lined fairly
throughout. Then they set the steel shoes upon his feet, and wrapped his
legs with greaves, with polished knee-caps fastened with knots of gold.
Then they cased his thighs in cuisses closed with thongs, and brought
him the byrny of bright steel rings sewn upon a fair stuff. Well
burnished braces they set on each arm with good elbow-pieces, and gloves
of mail, and all the goodly gear that should shield him in his need. And
they cast over all a rich surcoat, and set the golden spurs on his
heels, and girt him with a trusty sword fastened with a silken bawdrick.
When he was thus clad his harness was costly, for the least loop or
latchet gleamed with gold. So armed as he was he hearkened Mass and made
his offering at the high altar. Then he came to the king, and the
knights of his court, and courteously took leave of lords and ladies,
and they kissed him, and commended him to Christ.
With that was Gringalet ready, girt with a saddle that gleamed gaily
with many golden fringes, enriched and decked anew for the venture. The
bridle was all barred about with bright gold buttons, and all the
covertures and trappings of the steed, the crupper and the rich skirts,
accorded with the saddle; spread fair with the rich red gold that
glittered and gleamed in the rays of the sun.
Then the knight called for his helmet, which was well lined throughout,
and set it high on his head, and hasped it behind. He wore a light
kerchief over the vintail, that was broidered and studded with fair gems
on a broad silken ribbon, with birds of gay colour, and many a turtle
and true-lover’s knot interlaced thickly, even as many a maiden had
wrought them. But the circlet which crowned his helmet was yet more
precious, being adorned with a device in diamonds. Then they brought him
his shield, which was of bright red, with the pentangle painted thereon
in gleaming gold.[5]
Wherefore Sir Gawain bare the pentangle
And why that noble prince bare the pentangle I am minded to tell you,
though my tale tarry thereby. It is a sign that Solomon set ere-while,
as betokening truth; for it is a figure with five points and each line
overlaps the other, and nowhere hath it beginning or end, so that in
English it is called “the endless knot.” And therefore was it well
suiting to this knight and to his arms, since Gawain was faithful in
five and five-fold, for pure was he as gold, void of all villainy and
endowed with all virtues. Therefore he bare the pentangle on shield and
surcoat as truest of heroes and gentlest of knights.
For first he was faultless in his five senses; and his five fingers
never failed him; and all his trust upon earth was in the five wounds
that Christ bare on the cross, as the Creed tells. And wherever this
knight found himself in stress of battle he deemed well that he drew his
strength from the five joys which the Queen of Heaven had of her Child.
And for this cause did he bear an image of Our Lady on the one half of
his shield, that whenever he looked upon it he might not lack for aid.
And the fifth five that the hero used were frankness and fellowship
above all, purity and courtesy that never failed him, and compassion
that surpasses all; and in these five virtues was that hero wrapped and
clothed. And all these, five-fold, were linked one in the other, so that
they had no end, and were fixed on five points that never failed,
neither at any side were they joined or sundered, nor could ye find
beginning or end. And therefore on his shield was the knot shapen,
red-gold upon red, which is the pure pentangle. Now was Sir Gawain
ready, and he took his lance in hand, and bade them all _Farewell_, he
deemed it had been for ever.
How Sir Gawain went forth
Then he smote the steed with his spurs, and sprang on his way, so that
sparks flew from the stones after him. All that saw him were grieved at
heart, and said one to the other, “By Christ, ’tis great pity that one
of such noble life should be lost! I’ faith, ’twere not easy to find his
equal upon earth. The king had done better to have wrought more warily.
Yonder knight should have been made a duke; a gallant leader of men is
he, and such a fate had beseemed him better than to be hewn in pieces at
the will of an elfish man, for mere pride. Who ever knew a king to take
such counsel as to risk his knights on a Christmas jest?” Many were the
tears that flowed from their eyes when that goodly knight rode from the
hall. He made no delaying, but went his way swiftly, and rode many a
wild road, as I heard say in the book.
Of Sir Gawain’s journey
So rode Sir Gawain through the realm of Logres, on an errand that he
held for no jest. Often he lay companionless at night, and must lack the
fare that he liked. No comrade had he save his steed, and none save God
with whom to take counsel. At length he drew nigh to North Wales, and
left the isles of Anglesey on his left hand, crossing over the fords by
the foreland over at Holyhead, till he came into the wilderness of
Wirral,[6] that is loved neither of God nor of man, and there he abode
but a little time. And ever he asked, as he fared, of all whom he met,
if they had heard any tidings of a Green Knight in the country
thereabout, or of a Green Chapel? And all answered him, Nay, never in
their lives had they seen any man of such a hue. And the knight wended
his way by many a strange road and many a rugged path, and the fashion
of his countenance changed full often ere he saw the Green Chapel.
Many a cliff did he climb in that unknown land, where afar from his
friends he rode as a stranger. Never did he come to a stream or a ford
but he found a foe before him, and that one so marvellous, so foul and
fell, that it behoved him to fight. So many wonders did that knight
behold that it were too long to tell the tenth part of them. Sometimes
he fought with dragons and wolves; sometimes with wild men that dwelt in
the rocks; another while with bulls, and bears, and wild boars, or with
giants of the high moorland that drew near to him. Had he not been a
doughty knight, enduring, and of well-proved valour, doubtless he had
been slain, for he was oft in danger of death. Yet he cared not so much
for the strife, what he deemed worse was when the cold clear water was
shed from the clouds, and froze ere it fell on the fallow ground. More
nights than enough he slept in his harness on the bare rocks, near slain
with the sleet, while the stream leapt bubbling from the crest of the
hills, and hung in hard icicles over his head.
Thus in peril and pain, and many a hardship, the knight rode alone till
Christmas Eve, and in that tide he made his prayer to the Blessed Virgin
that she would guide his steps and lead him to some dwelling. On that
morning he rode by a hill, and came into a thick forest, wild and drear;
on each side were high hills, and thick woods below them of great hoar
oaks, a hundred together, of hazel and hawthorn with their trailing
boughs intertwined, and rough ragged moss spreading everywhere. On the
bare twigs the birds chirped piteously, for pain of the cold. The knight
upon Gringalet rode lonely beneath them, through marsh and mire, much
troubled at heart lest he should fail to see the service of the Lord,
who on that self-same night was born of a Maiden for the cure of our
grief; and therefore he said, sighing, “I beseech Thee, Lord, and Mary
Thy gentle Mother, for some shelter where I may hear Mass, and Thy
mattins at morn. This I ask meekly, and thereto I pray my Paternoster,
Ave, and Credo.” Thus he rode praying, and lamenting his misdeeds, and
he crossed himself, and said, “May the Cross of Christ speed me.”
How Sir Gawain came to a fair castle on Christmas Eve
Now that knight had crossed himself but thrice ere he was aware in the
wood of a dwelling within a moat, above a lawn, on a mound surrounded by
many mighty trees that stood round the moat. ’Twas the fairest castle
that ever a knight owned;[7] built in a meadow with a park all about it,
and a spiked palisade, closely driven, that enclosed the trees for more
than two miles. The knight was ware of the hold from the side, as it
shone through the oaks. Then he lifted off his helmet, and thanked
Christ and S. Julian that they had courteously granted his prayer, and
hearkened to his cry. “Now,” quoth the knight, “I beseech ye, grant me
fair hostel.” Then he pricked Gringalet with his golden spurs, and rode
gaily towards the great gate, and came swiftly to the bridge end.
The bridge was drawn up and the gates close shut; the walls were strong
and thick, so that they might fear no tempest. The knight on his charger
abode on the bank of the deep double ditch that surrounded the castle.
The walls were set deep in the water, and rose aloft to a wondrous
height; they were of hard hewn stone up to the corbels, which were
adorned beneath the battlements with fair carvings, and turrets set in
between with many a loophole; a better barbican Sir Gawain had never
looked upon. And within he beheld the high hall, with its tower and many
windows with carven cornices, and chalk-white chimneys on the turreted
roofs that shone fair in the sun. And everywhere, thickly scattered on
the castle battlements, were pinnacles, so many that it seemed as if it
were all wrought out of paper, so white was it.
The knight on his steed deemed it fair enough, if he might come to be
sheltered within it to lodge there while that the Holy-day lasted. He
called aloud, and soon there came a porter of kindly countenance, who
stood on the wall and greeted this knight and asked his errand.
“Good sir,” quoth Gawain, “wilt thou go mine errand to the high lord of
the castle, and crave for me lodging?”
“Yea, by S. Peter,” quoth the porter. “In sooth I trow that ye be
welcome to dwell here so long as it may like ye.”
How Sir Gawain was welcomed
Then he went, and came again swiftly, and many folk with him to receive
the knight. They let down the great drawbridge, and came forth and knelt
on their knees on the cold earth to give him worthy welcome. They held
wide open the great gates, and he greeted them courteously, and rode
over the bridge. Then men came to him and held his stirrup while he
dismounted, and took and stabled his steed. There came down knights and
squires to bring the guest with joy to the hall. When he raised his
helmet there were many to take it from his hand, fain to serve him, and
they took from him sword and shield.
Sir Gawain gave good greeting to the nobles and the mighty men who came
to do him honour. Clad in his shining armour they led him to the hall,
where a great fire burnt brightly on the floor; and the lord of the
household came forth from his chamber to meet the hero fitly. He spake
to the knight, and said: “Ye are welcome to do here as it likes ye. All
that is here is your own to have at your will and disposal.”
“Gramercy!” quote Gawain, “may Christ requite ye.”
As friends that were fain each embraced the other; and Gawain looked on
the knight who greeted him so kindly, and thought ’twas a bold warrior
that owned that burg.
Of mighty stature he was, and of high age; broad and flowing was his
beard, and of a bright hue. He was stalwart of limb, and strong in his
stride, his face fiery red, and his speech free: in sooth he seemed one
well fitted to be a leader of valiant men.
Then the lord led Sir Gawain to a chamber, and commanded folk to wait
upon him, and at his bidding there came men enough who brought the guest
to a fair bower. The bedding was noble, with curtains of pure silk
wrought with gold, and wondrous coverings of fair cloth all embroidered.
The curtains ran on ropes with rings of red gold, and the walls were
hung with carpets of Orient, and the same spread on the floor. There
with mirthful speeches they took from the guest his byrny and all his
shining armour, and brought him rich robes of the choicest in its stead.
They were long and flowing, and became him well, and when he was clad in
them all who looked on the hero thought that surely God had never made a
fairer knight: he seemed as if he might be a prince without peer in the
field where men strive in battle.
Then before the hearth-place, whereon the fire burned, they made ready a
chair for Gawain, hung about with cloth and fair cushions; and there
they cast around him a mantle of brown samite, richly embroidered and
furred within with costly skins of ermine, with a hood of the same, and
he seated himself in that rich seat, and warmed himself at the fire and
was cheered at heart. And while he sat thus the serving men set up a
table on trestles, and covered it with a fair white cloth, and set
thereon salt-cellar, and napkin, and silver spoons; and the knight
washed at his will, and set him down to meat.
The folk served him courteously with many dishes seasoned of the best, a
double portion. All kinds of fish were there, some baked in bread, some
broiled on the embers, some sodden, some stewed and savoured with
spices, with all sorts of cunning devices to his taste. And often he
called it a feast, when they spake gaily to him all together, and said,
“Now take ye this penance, and it shall be for your amendment.” Much
mirth thereof did Sir Gawain make.
Sir Gawain tells his name
Then they questioned that prince courteously of whence he came; and he
told them that he was of the court of Arthur, who is the rich royal King
of the Round Table, and that it was Gawain himself who was within their
walls, and would keep Christmas with them, as the chance had fallen out.
And when the lord of the castle heard those tidings he laughed aloud for
gladness, and all men in that keep were joyful that they should be in
the company of him to whom belonged all fame, and valour, and courtesy,
and whose honour was praised above that of all men on earth. Each said
softly to his fellow, “Now shall we see courteous bearing, and the
manner of speech befitting courts. What charm lieth in gentle speech
shall we learn without asking, since here we have welcomed the fine
father of courtesy. God has surely shewn us His grace since He sends us
such a guest as Gawain! When men shall sit and sing, blithe for Christ’s
birth, this knight shall bring us to the knowledge of fair manners, and
it may be that hearing him we may learn the cunning speech of love.”
By the time the knight had risen from dinner it was near nightfall. Then
chaplains took their way to the chapel, and rang loudly, even as they
should, for the solemn evensong of the high feast. Thither went the
lord, and the lady also, and entered with her maidens into a comely
closet, and thither also went Gawain. Then the lord took him by the
sleeve and led him to a seat, and called him by his name, and told him
he was of all men in the world the most welcome. And Sir Gawain thanked
him truly, and each kissed the other, and they sat gravely together
throughout the service.
The lady of the castle
Then was the lady fain to look upon that knight; and she came forth from
her closet with many fair maidens. The fairest of ladies was she in
face, and figure, and colouring, fairer even than Guinevere, so the
knight thought. She came through the chancel to greet the hero, another
lady held her by the left hand, older than she, and seemingly of high
estate, with many nobles about her. But unlike to look upon were those
ladies, for if the younger were fair, the elder was yellow. Rich red
were the cheeks of the one, rough and wrinkled those of the other; the
kerchiefs of the one were broidered with many glistening pearls, her
throat and neck bare, and whiter than the snow that lies on the hills;
the neck of the other was swathed in a gorget, with a white wimple over
her black chin. Her forehead was wrapped in silk with many folds, worked
with knots, so that naught of her was seen save her black brows, her
eyes, her nose, and her lips, and those were bleared, and ill to look
upon. A worshipful lady in sooth one might call her! In figure was she
short and broad, and thickly made—far fairer to behold was she whom she
led by the hand.
When Gawain beheld that fair lady, who looked at him graciously, with
leave of the lord he went towards them, and, bowing low, he greeted the
elder, but the younger and fairer he took lightly in his arms, and
kissed her courteously, and greeted her in knightly wise. Then she
hailed him as friend, and he quickly prayed to be counted as her
servant, if she so willed. Then they took him between them, and talking,
led him to the chamber, to the hearth, and bade them bring spices, and
they brought them in plenty with the good wine that was wont to be drunk
at such seasons. Then the lord sprang to his feet and bade them make
merry, and took off his hood, and hung it on a spear, and bade him win
the worship thereof who should make most mirth that Christmas-tide. “And
I shall try, by my faith, to fool it with the best, by the help of my
friends, ere I lose my raiment.” Thus with gay words the lord made trial
to gladden Gawain with jests that night, till it was time to bid them
light the tapers, and Sir Gawain took leave of them and gat him to rest.
Of the Christmas feast
In the morn when all men call to mind how Christ our Lord was born on
earth to die for us, there is joy, for His sake, in all dwellings of the
world; and so was there here on that day. For high feast was held, with
many dainties and cunningly cooked messes. On the daïs sat gallant men,
clad in their best. The ancient dame sat on the high seat, with the lord
of the castle beside her. Gawain and the fair lady sat together, even in
the midst of the board, when the feast was served; and so throughout all
the hall each sat in his degree, and was served in order. There was
meat, there was mirth, there was much joy, so that to tell thereof would
take me too long, though peradventure I might strive to declare it. But
Gawain and that fair lady had much joy of each other’s company through
her sweet words and courteous converse. And there was music made before
each prince, trumpets and drums, and merry piping; each man hearkened
his minstrel, and they too hearkened theirs.
How the feast came to an end but Gawain abode at the castle
So they held high feast that day and the next, and the third day
thereafter, and the joy on S. John’s Day was fair to hearken, for ’twas
the last of the feast, and the guests would depart in the grey of the
morning. Therefore they awoke early, and drank wine, and danced fair
carols, and at last, when it was late, each man took his leave to wend
early on his way. Gawain would bid his host farewell, but the lord took
him by the hand, and led him to his own chamber beside the hearth, and
there he thanked him for the favour he had shown him in honouring his
dwelling at that high season, and gladdening his castle with his fair
countenance. “I wis, sir, that while I live I shall be held the worthier
that Gawain has been my guest at God’s own feast.”
“Gramercy, sir,” quoth Gawain, “in good faith, all the honour is yours,
may the High King give it ye, and I am but at your will to work your
behest, inasmuch as I am beholden to ye in great and small by rights.”
Then the lord did his best to persuade the knight to tarry with him, but
Gawain answered that he might in no wise do so. Then the host asked him
courteously what stern behest had driven him at the holy season from the
king’s court, to fare all alone, ere yet the feast was ended?
“Forsooth,” quoth the knight, “ye say but the truth: ’tis a high quest
and a pressing that hath brought me afield, for I am summoned myself to
a certain place, and I know not whither in the world I may wend to find
it; so help me Christ, I would give all the kingdom of Logres an I might
find it by New Year’s morn. Therefore, sir, I make request of ye that ye
tell me truly if ye ever heard word of the Green Chapel, where it may be
found, and the Green Knight that keeps it. For I am pledged by solemn
compact sworn between us to meet that knight at the New Year if so I
were on life; and of that same New Year it wants but little—I’ faith, I
would look on that hero more joyfully than on any other fair sight!
Therefore, by your will, it behoves me to leave ye, for I have but
barely three days, and I would as fain fall dead as fail of mine
errand.”
Then the lord quoth, laughing, “Now must ye needs stay, for I will show
ye your goal, the Green Chapel, ere your term be at an end, have ye no
fear! But ye can take your ease, friend, in your bed, till the fourth
day, and go forth on the first of the year, and come to that place at
mid-morn to do as ye will. Dwell here till New Year’s Day, and then rise
and set forth, and ye shall be set in the way; ’tis not two miles
hence.”
Then was Gawain glad, and he laughed gaily. “Now I thank ye for this
above all else. Now my quest is achieved I will dwell here at your will,
and otherwise do as ye shall ask.”
Then the lord took him, and set him beside him, and bade the ladies be
fetched for their greater pleasure, tho’ between themselves they had
solace. The lord, for gladness, made merry jest, even as one who wist
not what to do for joy; and he cried aloud to the knight, “Ye have
promised to do the thing I bid ye: will ye hold to this behest, here, at
once?”
“Yea, forsooth,” said that true knight, “while I abide in your burg I am
bound by your behest.”
“Ye have travelled from far,” said the host, “and since then ye have
waked with me, ye are not well refreshed by rest and sleep, as I know.
Ye shall therefore abide in your chamber, and lie at your ease to-morrow
at Mass-tide, and go to meat when ye will with my wife, who shall sit
with ye, and comfort ye with her company till I return; and I shall rise
early and go forth to the chase.” And Gawain agreed to all this
courteously.
Sir Gawain makes a covenant with his host
“Sir knight,” quoth the host, “we will make a covenant. Whatsoever I win
in the wood shall be yours, and whatever may fall to your share, that
shall ye exchange for it. Let us swear, friend, to make this exchange,
however our hap may be, for worse or for better.”
“I grant ye your will,” quoth Gawain the good; “if ye list so to do, it
liketh me well.”
“Bring hither the wine-cup, the bargain is made,” so said the lord of
that castle. They laughed each one, and drank of the wine, and made
merry, these lords and ladies, as it pleased them. Then with gay talk
and merry jest they arose, and stood, and spoke softly, and kissed
courteously, and took leave of each other. With burning torches, and
many a serving man, was each led to his couch; yet ere they gat them to
bed the old lord oft repeated their covenant, for he knew well how to
make sport.
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Complete four-part 1898 retelling in modern English prose by Jessie L. Weston. · Translated by Jessie L. Weston
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