Part 5
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Now the New Year drew nigh,
and the night passed, and the day chased the darkness, as is God's will; but
wild weather wakened therewith. The clouds cast the cold to the earth, with
enough of the north to slay them that lacked clothing. The snow drave smartly,
and the whistling wind blew from the heights, and made great drifts in the
valleys. The knight, lying in his bed, listened, for though his eyes were shut,
he might sleep but little, and hearkened every cock that crew.
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He arose ere the day broke, by the light of a lamp that burned
in his chamber, and called to his chamberlain, bidding him bring his armour and
saddle his steed. The other gat him up, and fetched his garments, and robed Sir
Gawain.
First he clad him in his clothes to keep off the cold, and
then in his harness, which was well and fairly kept. Both hauberk and plates
were well burnished, the rings of the rich byrny freed from rust, and all as
fresh as at first, so that the knight was fain to thank them. Then he did on
each piece, and bade them bring his steed, while he put the fairest raiment on
himself; his coat with its fair cognizance, adorned with precious stones upon
velvet, with broidered seams, and all furred within with costly skins. And he
left not the lace, the lady's gift, that Gawain forgot not, for his own good.
When he had girded on his sword he wrapped the gift twice about him, swathed
around his waist. The girdle of green silk set gaily and well upon the royal red
cloth, rich to behold, but the knight ware it not for pride of the pendants,
polished though they were with gold that gleamed brightly on the ends, but to
save himself from sword and knife, when it behoved him to abide his hurt without
question. With that the hero went forth, and thanked that kindly folk full
often.
Then was Gringalet ready, that was great and strong, and had
been well cared for and tended in every wise; in fair condition was that proud
steed, and fit for a journey. Then Gawain went to him, and looked on his coat,
and said by his sooth, "There is a folk in this place that thinketh on
honour; much joy may they have, and the lord who maintains them, and may all
good betide that lovely lady all her life long. Since they for charity cherish a
guest, and hold honour in their hands, may He who holds the heaven on high
requite them, and also ye all. And if I might live anywhere on earth, I would
give ye full reward, readily, if so I might." Then he set foot in the
stirrup and bestrode his steed, and his squire gave him his shield, which he
laid on his shoulder. Then he smote Gringalet with his golden spurs, and the
steed pranced on the stones and would stand no longer.
By that his man was mounted, who bare his spear and lance, and
Gawain quoth, "I commend this castle to Christ, may He give it ever good
fortune." Then the drawbridge was let down, and the broad gates unbarred
and opened on both sides; the knight crossed himself, and passed through the
gateway, and praised the porter, who knelt before the prince, and gave him
good-day, and commended him to God. Thus the knight went on his way with the one
man who should guide him to that dread place where he should receive rueful
payment.
The two went by hedges where the boughs were bare, and climbed
the cliffs where the cold clings. Naught fell from the heavens, but 'twas ill
beneath them; mist brooded over the moor and hung on the mountains; each hill
had a cap, a great cloak, of mist. The streams foamed and bubbled between their
banks, dashing sparkling on the shores where they shelved downwards. Rugged and
dangerous was the way through the woods, till it was time for the sun-rising.
Then were they on a high hill; the snow lay white beside them, and the man who
rode with Gawain drew rein by his master.
"Sir," he said, "I have brought ye hither, and
now ye are not far from the place that ye have sought so specially. But I will
tell ye for sooth, since I know ye well, and ye are such a knight as I well
love, would ye follow my counsel ye would fare the better. The place whither ye
go is accounted full perilous, for he who liveth in that waste is the worst on
earth, for he is strong and fierce, and loveth to deal mighty blows; taller is
he than any man on earth, and greater of frame than any four in Arthur's court,
or in any other. And this is his custom at the Green Chapel; there may be no man
pass by that place, however proud his arms, but he does him to death by force of
his hand, for he is a discourteous knight, and shews no mercy. Be he churl or
chaplain who rides by that chapel, monk or mass priest, or any man else, he
thinks it as pleasant to slay them as to pass alive himself. Therefore, I tell
ye, as sooth as ye sit in saddle, if ye come there and that knight know it, ye
shall be slain, though ye had twenty lives; trow me that truly! He has dwelt
here full long and seen many a combat; ye may not defend ye against his blows.
Therefore, good Sir Gawain, let the man be, and get ye away some other road; for
God's sake seek ye another land, and there may Christ speed ye! And I will hie
me home again, and I promise ye further that I will swear by God and the saints,
or any other oath ye please, that I will keep counsel faithfully, and never let
any wit the tale that ye fled for fear of any man."
"Gramercy," quoth Gawain, but ill-pleased.
"Good fortune be his who wishes me good, and that thou wouldst keep faith
with me I will believe; but didst thou keep it never so truly, an I passed here
and fled for fear as thou sayest, then were I a coward knight, and might not be
held guiltless. So I will to the chapel let chance what may, and talk with that
man, even as I may list, whether for weal or for woe as fate may have it. Fierce
though he may be in fight, yet God knoweth well how to save His servants."
"Well," quoth the other, "now that ye have said
so much that ye will take your own harm on yourself, and ye be pleased to lose
your life, I will neither let nor keep ye. Have here your helm and the spear in
your hand, and ride down this same road beside the rock till ye come to the
bottom of the valley, and there look a little to the left hand, and ye shall see
in that vale the chapel, and the grim man who keeps it. Now fare ye well, noble
Gawain; for all the gold on earth I would not go with ye nor bear ye fellowship
one step further." With that the man turned his bridle into the wood, smote
the horse with his spurs as hard as he could, and galloped off, leaving the
knight alone.
Quoth Gawain, "I will neither greet nor groan, but
commend myself to God, and yield me to His will."
Then the knight spurred Gringalet, and rode adown the path
close in by a bank beside a grove. So he rode through the rough thicket, right
into the dale, and there he halted, for it seemed him wild enough. No sign of a
chapel could he see, but high and burnt banks on either side and rough rugged
crags with great stones above. An ill-looking place he thought it.
Then he drew in his horse and looked around to seek the
chapel, but he saw none and thought it strange. Then he saw as it were a mound
on a level space of land by a bank beside the stream where it ran swiftly, the
water bubbled within as if boiling. The knight turned his steed to the mound,
and lighted down and tied the rein to the branch of a linden; and he turned to
the mound and walked round it, questioning with himself what it might be. It had
a hole at the end and at either side, and was overgrown with clumps of grass,
and it was hollow within as an old cave or the crevice of a crag; he knew not
what it might be.
"Ah," quoth Gawain, "can this be the Green
Chapel? Here might the devil say his mattins at midnight! Now I wis there is
wizardry here. 'Tis an ugly oratory, all overgrown with grass, and 'twould well
beseem that fellow in green to say his devotions on devil's wise. Now feel I in
five wits, 'tis the foul fiend himself who hath set me this tryst, to destroy me
here! This is a chapel of mischance: ill-luck betide it, 'tis the cursedest kirk
that ever I came in!"
Helmet on head and lance in hand, he came up to the rough
dwelling, when he heard over the high hill beyond the brook, as it were in a
bank, a wondrous fierce noise, that rang in the cliff as if it would cleave
asunder. 'Twas as if one ground a scythe on a grindstone, it whirred and whetted
like water on a mill-wheel and rushed and rang, terrible to hear.
"By God," quoth Gawain, "I trow that gear is
preparing for the knight who will meet me here. Alas! naught may help me, yet
should my life be forfeit, I fear not a jot!" With that he called aloud.
"Who waiteth in this place to give me tryst? Now is Gawain come hither: if
any man will aught of him let him hasten hither now or never."
"Stay," quoth one on the bank above his head,
"and ye shall speedily have that which I promised ye." Yet for a while
the noise of whetting went on ere he appeared, and then he came forth from a
cave in the crag with a fell weapon, a Danish axe newly dight, wherewith to deal
the blow. An evil head it had, four feet large, no less, sharply ground, and
bound to the handle by the lace that gleamed brightly. And the knight himself
was all green as before, face and foot, locks and beard, but now he was afoot.
When he came to the water he would not wade it, but sprang over with the pole of
his axe, and strode boldly over the brent that was white with snow.
Sir Gawain went to meet him, but he made no low bow. The other
said, "Now, fair sir, one may trust thee to keep tryst. Thou art welcome,
Gawain, to my place. Thou hast timed thy coming as befits a true man. Thou
knowest the covenant set between us: at this time twelve months agone thou didst
take that which fell to thee, and I at this New Year will readily requite thee.
We are in this valley, verily alone, here are no knights to sever us, do what we
will. Have off thy helm from thine head, and have here thy pay; make me no more
talking than I did then when thou didst strike off my head with one blow."
"Nay," quoth Gawain, "by God that gave me life,
I shall make no moan whatever befall me, but make thou ready for the blow and I
shall stand still and say never a word to thee, do as thou wilt."
With that he bent his head and shewed his neck all bare, and
made as if he had no fear, for he would not be thought a-dread.
Then the Green Knight made him ready, and grasped his grim
weapon to smite Gawain. With all his force he bore it aloft with a mighty feint
of slaying him: had it fallen as straight as he aimed he who was ever doughty of
deed had been slain by the blow. But Gawain swerved aside as the axe came
gliding down to slay him as he stood, and shrank a little with the shoulders,
for the sharp iron. The other heaved up the blade and rebuked the prince with
many proud words:
"Thou art not Gawain," he said, "who is held so
valiant, that never feared he man by hill or vale, but thou shrinkest
for fear ere thou feelest hurt. Such cowardice did I never hear of Gawain!
Neither did I flinch from thy blow, or make strife in King
Arthur's
hall. My head fell to my feet, and yet I fled not; but thou didst wax faint of
heart ere any harm befell. Wherefore must I be deemed the braver knight."
Quoth Gawain, "I shrank once, but so will I no more,
though an my head fall on the stones I cannot replace it. But haste, Sir
Knight, by thy faith, and bring me to the point, deal me my destiny, and do it
out of hand, for I will stand thee a stroke and move no more till thine axe have
hit me--my troth on it."
"Have at thee, then," quoth the other, and heaved
aloft the axe with a fierce mien, as if he were mad. He struck at him fiercely
but wounded him not, withholding his hand ere it might strike him.
Gawain abode the stroke, and flinched in no limb, but stood
still as a stone or the stump of a tree that is fast rooted in the rocky ground
with a hundred roots.
Then spake gaily the man in green, "So now thou hast
thine heart whole it behoves me to smite. Hold aside thy hood that Arthur gave
thee, and keep thy neck thus bent lest it cover it again."
Then Gawain said angrily, "Why talk on thus? Thou dost
threaten too long. I hope thy heart misgives thee."
"Forsooth," quoth the other, "so fiercely thou
speakest I will no longer let thine errand wait its reward." Then he braced
himself to strike, frowning with lips and brow, 'twas no marvel that it pleased
but ill him who hoped for no rescue. He lifted the axe lightly and let it fall
with the edge of the blade on the bare neck. Though he struck swiftly it hurt
him no more than on the one side where it severed the skin. The sharp blade cut
into the flesh so that the blood ran over his shoulder to the ground. And when
the knight saw the blood staining the snow, he sprang forth, swift-foot, seized
his helmet and set it on his head, cast his shield over his shoulder, drew out
his bright sword, and spake boldly (never since he was born was he half so
blithe), "Stop, Sir Knight, bid me no more blows. I have stood a stroke
here without flinching, and if thou give me another, I shall requite thee, and
give thee as good again. By the covenant made betwixt us in Arthur's hall but
one blow falls to me here. Halt, therefore."
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Then the Green Knight drew off from him and leaned on his axe,
setting the shaft on the ground, and looked on Gawain as he stood all armed and
faced him fearlessly--at heart it pleased him well. Then he spake merrily in a
loud voice, and said to the knight, "Bold sir, be not so fierce, no man
here hath done thee wrong, nor will do, save by covenant, as we made at Arthur's
court. I promised thee a blow and thou hast it--hold thyself well paid! I
release thee of all other claims. If I had been so minded I might perchance have
given thee a rougher buffet. First I menaced thee with a feigned one, and hurt
thee not for the covenant that we made in the first night, and which thou didst
hold truly. All the gain didst thou give me as a true man should. The other
feint I proffered thee for the morrow: my fair wife kissed thee, and thou didst
give me her kisses--for both those days I gave thee two blows without
scathe--true man, true return. But the third time thou didst fail, and therefore
hadst thou that blow. For 'tis my weed thou wearest, that same woven
girdle, my own wife wrought it, that do I wot for sooth. Now know I well thy
kisses, and thy conversation, and the wooing of my wife, for 'twas mine own
doing. I sent her to try thee, and in sooth I think thou art the most faultless
knight that ever trode earth. As a pearl among white peas is of more worth than
they, so is Gawain, i'faith, by other knights. But thou didst lack a little, Sir
Knight, and wast wanting in loyalty, yet that was for no evil work, nor for
wooing neither, but because thou lovedst thy life--therefore I blame thee the
less."
Then the other stood a great while, still sorely angered and
vexed within himself; all the blood flew to his face, and he shrank for shame as
the Green Knight spake; and the first words he said were, "Cursed be ye,
cowardice and covetousness, for in ye is the destruction of virtue." Then
he loosed the girdle, and gave it to the knight. "Lo, take there the
falsity, may foul befall it! For fear of thy blow cowardice bade me make friends
with covetousness and forsake the customs of largesse and loyalty, which befit
all knights. Now am I faulty and false and have been afeared: from treachery and
untruth come sorrow and care. I avow to thee, Sir Knight, that I have ill done;
do then thy will. I shall be more wary hereafter."
Then the other laughed and said gaily, "I wot I am whole
of the hurt I had, and thou hast made such free confession of thy misdeeds, and
hast so borne the penance of mine axe edge, that I hold thee absolved from that
sin, and purged as clean as if thou hadst never sinned since thou wast born. And
this girdle that is wrought with gold and green, like my raiment, do I give
thee, Sir Gawain, that thou mayest think upon this chance when thou goest forth
among princes of renown, and keep this for a token of the adventure of the Green
Chapel, as it chanced between chivalrous knights. And thou shalt come again with
me to my dwelling and pass the rest of this feast in gladness." Then the
lord laid hold of him, and said, "I wot we shall soon make peace with my
wife, who was thy bitter enemy."
"Nay, forsooth," said Sir Gawain, and seized his
helmet and took it off swiftly, and thanked the knight: "I have fared ill,
may bliss betide thee, and may He who rules all things reward thee swiftly.
Commend me to that courteous lady, thy fair wife, and to the other my honoured
ladies, who have beguiled their knight with skilful craft. But 'tis no marvel if
one be made a fool and brought to sorrow by women's wiles, for so was Adam
beguiled by one, and Solomon by many, and Samson all too soon, for Delilah dealt
him his doom; and David thereafter was wedded with Bathsheba, which brought him
much sorrow--if one might love a woman and believe her not, 'twere great gain!
And since all they were beguiled by women, methinks 'tis the less blame to me
that I was misled! But as for thy girdle, that will I take with good will, not
for gain of the gold, nor for samite, nor silk, nor the costly pendants, neither
for weal nor for worship, but in sign of my frailty. I shall look upon it when I
ride in renown and remind myself of the fault and faintness of the flesh; and so
when pride uplifts me for prowess of arms, the sight of this lace shall humble
my heart. But one thing would I pray, if it displease thee not: since thou art
lord of yonder land wherein I have dwelt, tell me what thy rightful name may be,
and I will ask no more."
"That will I truly," quoth the other. "Bernlak
de Hautdesert am I called in this land. Morgain le Fay dwelleth in mine house
12, and through knowledge of clerkly craft hath she taken many. For
long time was she the mistress of Merlin, who knew well all you knights of the
court. Morgain the goddess is she called therefore, and there is none so haughty
but she can bring him low. She sent me in this guise to yon fair hall to test
the truth of the renown that is spread abroad of the valour of the Round Table.
She taught me this marvel to betray your wits, to vex Guinevere and fright her
to death by the man who spake with his head in his hand at the high table. That
is she who is at home, that ancient lady, she is even thine aunt, Arthur's
half-sister, the daughter of the Duchess of Tintagel, who afterward married King
Uther. Therefore I bid thee, knight, come to thine aunt, and make merry in thine
house; my folk love thee, and I wish thee as well as any man on earth, by my
faith, for thy true dealing."
But Sir Gawain said nay, he would in no wise do so; so they
embraced and kissed, and commended each other to the Prince of Paradise, and
parted right there, on the cold ground. Gawain on his steed rode swiftly to the
king's hall, and the Green Knight got him whithersoever he would.
Sir Gawain who had thus won grace of his life, rode through
wild ways on Gringalet; oft he lodged in a house, and oft without, and many
adventures did he have and came off victor full often, as at this time I cannot
relate in tale. The hurt that he had in his neck was healed, he bare the shining
girdle as a baldric bound by his side, and made fast with a knot 'neath his left
arm, in token that he was taken in a fault--and thus he came in safety again to
the court.
Then joy awakened in that dwelling when the king knew that the
good Sir Gawain was come, for he deemed it gain. King
Arthur kissed the knight,
and the queen also, and many valiant knights sought to embrace him. They asked
him how he had fared, and he told them all that had chanced to him--the
adventure of the chapel, the fashion of the knight, the love of the lady--at
last of the lace. He showed them the wound in the neck which he won for his
disloyalty at the hand of the knight, the blood flew to his face for shame as he
told the tale.
"Lo, lady," he quoth, and handled the lace,
"this is the bond of the blame that I bear in my neck, this is the harm and
the loss I have suffered, the cowardice and covetousness in which I was caught,
the token of my covenant in which I was taken. And I must needs wear it so long
as I live, for none may hide his harm, but undone it may not be, for if it hath
clung to thee once, it may never be severed."
Then the king comforted the knight, and the court laughed
loudly at the tale, and all made accord that the lords and the ladies who
belonged to the Round Table, each hero among them, should wear bound about him a
baldric of bright green for the sake of Sir Gawain
13. And to this was agreed all the honour of the Round Table, and he
who ware it was honoured the more thereafter, as it is testified in the best
book of romance. That in Arthur's days this adventure befell, the book of Brutus
bears witness. For since that bold knight came hither first, and the siege and
the assault were ceased at Troy, I wis
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Many a venture herebefore
Hath fallen such as this:
May He that bare the crown of thorn
Bring us unto His bliss.
Amen.
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