Gawain and the Green Knight, page 22
When he saw this he leaned him against one of the windows of the hall and fell into deep thought. Then there came forth from a chamber a dwarf, bearing a staff in his hand, and when he saw Sir Gawain he cried upon him: “Who be this caitiff knight, who by ill chance leaneth here against our window? Flee ye from hence, here may ye not remain, for in ye is too great villainy! Go, get ye to rest in one of these chambers that none behold ye here!” Then he raised his staff to smite Sir Gawain, but he put forth his hand and took it from him. And when the dwarf saw this he cried, “Ha! Sir knight, ’twill avail ye nothing, for ye may not escape hence without shaming!”
With that he gat him into a chamber; and Sir Gawain looked toward the head of the hall, and saw there one of the richest couches in the world, and he made haste towards it, for there would he lie. But even as he set him down he heard a maiden cry upon him, “Ha! Sir knight, thou diest an thou liest there unarmed, for ’tis the Couch Adventurous, but look ye, yonder lie arms, take them, and lie ye down an ye will.”
Sir Gawain ran swiftly where he saw the armour, and armed himself as best he might, and when he was armed he sat him down straightway. But scarce had he set him down when he heard a cry, the most fell he had ever heard, and he thought him well ’twas the voice of the foul fiend. With that there came forth swiftly from a chamber a lance whereof the blade was all afire, and it smote Sir Gawain so hardly that despite shield and hauberk it pierced his shoulder through and through. And he fell swooning, but anon he felt how one drew out the lance, yet he saw not who laid hand to it. Then was he much afeard, for the wound bled sorely, yet would he not rise up from the couch, but said within himself that though he died for it yet would he behold more of the marvels – yet he wist well that he was sore wounded.
Long time did Sir Gawain abide there, and when night fell – so that he saw but ill save for the light of the moon, which shone through more than forty windows, which were all open – then he looked towards the chamber which was nighest to him and beheld a dragon, the greatest he had ever seen, never a man but had felt dread at the sight. In all the world were there no more diverse colours than might be seen upon it, for ’twas red, and blue, and yellow, and green, and black, and white: and its eyes were red and swollen, and its mouth huge and gaping.
The dragon began to go up and down in the chamber, making play with its tail, and lashing the ground: and when it had thus made sport awhile it turned over on its back, and began to writhe and utter cries, even as it died a hard death. When it had striven thus awhile it stretched itself out as it were indeed dead, and Sir Gawain marvelled much, for he saw how that it cast forth from its mouth young dragons, even to the number of five hundred, all of which were living.
When it had done this it came forth even unto the great hall, and lo! it found there a leopard, the greatest in the world, and the twain ran the one upon the other, and a mighty battle began betwixt them. And the dragon deemed well it would get the better of the leopard, yet might it not do so. And as they fought thus it befell Sir Gawain that he lost his sight, and for awhile saw naught – yet did the moon shine brightly – but after awhile his sight returned to him, and he saw how the dragon and the leopard ever strove together.
Long while did the strife of the twain endure, so that Sir Gawain wist not the which had the better, and the which the worse; but when the dragon saw that it might not vanquish the leopard, it turned again to the chamber whence it came, and so soon as it entered therein, the young dragons fell upon it, and they fought together right hardily, and the melee endured great part of the night, till that in the end the old dragon slew the young, and the young the old.
Then the windows of the hall clapt to, the one after the other, with so great a noise it seemed as if the palace must fall; and there came therein a wind, so great and so strong that it swept clear the rushes from the floor. At this adventure did Sir Gawain marvel much, more than at aught that had aforetime befallen, yet would he wait awhile to see what should chance further.
Long time after that the windows of the palace were closed Sir Gawain hearkened and heard the sound of bitter weeping and lamentation, he deemed well ’twas the voice of women. And when he would have arisen to seek the cause he saw come forth from a chamber twelve maidens, who made the greatest lamentation in the world; they came the one after the other and said, weeping, “Dear Lord God, when shall we be delivered from this pain?” And when they came unto the door of the chamber where the dove had entered the even before, they kneeled them down and made prayers and orisons, and withal wept bitterly. And when they had been there a great while they turned them again whence they came.
When the maidens were departed Sir Gawain saw come forth from a chamber a great knight, all armed, shield at neck, and sword in. hand; and he said unto Sir Gawain, “Sir knight, arise, go slumber in one of these chambers, for here may ye not remain!” But he said he would abide there an he died for it.
“Not so, fair Sir,” quoth the other, “for it behoves ye to fight with me ere ye may abide here!”
“To fight,” quoth Sir Gawain, “will I assent, an I must needs suffer it, nevertheless I were liever to fight than to get me hence!”
“I’ faith,” quoth the knight, “an ye will not do it of courtesy ye must needs do it of force – guard ye well, for here I do defy ye!”
Then he ran on him with uplifted sword, and Sir Gawain arose and defended him as best he might, but the knight pressed him hard. So their shields and helmets were cloven, and their hauberks rent on shoulder and on side and on thigh, and the blood ran from their bodies. But greatly was Sir Gawain vexed for the wound in his shoulder, for it might not be stanched, and that wound had well nigh put him to the worse; yet he suffered and endured as best he might, and covered him with his shield as one who knew well what it behoved him to do. And the knight pressed upon him with sword thrust, as one of great valour and prowess, and drave him hither and thither.
Thus Sir Gawain endured even until he had taken breath, then he ran vigorously upon the knight, and dealt him many a hardy blow on helmet and shield, and the knight did likewise. And the battle endured long, till the one and the other had lost their force, and the strength of their bodies, and were so mazed they might no longer hold their feet, but fell to the ground, the one on the one side, the other on the other. And they had fought so long and so hardily that the hall was bestrewn with the mails of their hauberks, and the splinters of their shields. And so spent and so weary were they that they might not lift their heads, but lay on the ground even as they had swooned.
Great while they lay thus, Sir Gawain beside the couch and the knight anear him, then the palace began to shake, and the windows to clap together, and it began to thunder and lighten, as ’twas the worst weather in the world, save that it rained not. Of this adventure was Sir Gawain much dismayed, yet so spent was he that he might not lift his head, and with that was his brain so bemused with the thunder claps that he knew not if it were day or night.
Then there swept through the hall a breeze so soft and sweet, ’twas a marvel, and there came the sound of many voices as it were descending into the hall, which sang so sweetly that naught in the world could liken them, there might well be even two hundred. And Sir Gawain might not hear what they sang, save they oft-times chanted, “Glory, and praise, and honour be unto the King of Heaven!” And a little afore they heard the voices ’twas as if the sweetest perfumes in the world were shed forth therein.
Sir Gawain hearkened well the voices, and they seemed to him so sweet and so pleasant that he deemed not they were of earth, but rather things spiritual, and without doubt ’twas even so. Then he opened his eyes and saw naught, and he knew verily that these were no earthly voices, since his eyes might not behold them. He was fain to have arisen from the ground, yet might not do so since he had lost the strength of his limbs and the power of his body.
Then he saw come forth from a chamber the damsel who the even afore had borne the holy vessel before the table. And before her came two tapers and two censers. And when she came even to the middle of the palace she set the Holy Grail afore her on a table of silver. And Sir Gawain beheld all around censers to the number of ten which ceased not to give forth perfume. And all the voices began to sing together more sweetly than heart of man might think, or mouth speak. And all said with one voice, “Blessed be the Father of Heaven.”
When the song had endured long time the damsel took the vessel and bare it into the chamber whence she came, and then were the voices silent as they had departed thence, and all the windows of the palace opened and closed them again and the hall grew dark so that Sir Gawain saw naught, but of this was he well aware that he felt hale and whole as naught had ailed him, nor might he feel aught of the wound in his shoulder, for ’twas right well healed. Then he arose joyous and glad at heart, and went seeking the knight who had fought with him, but he found him not.
Then he heard as it were a great folk that drew nigh to him, and he felt how they laid hold on him by the arms and the shoulders, and the feet and the head, and bare him forth from the hall, and bound him fast to a cart that was in the midst of the court, and forthwith he fell asleep.
In the morning when the sun was risen Sir Gawain awoke, and lo! he was in the vilest cart in the world, and he saw that his shield was bound on the shaft afore him, and his steed was made fast behind. But in the shafts was a horse so thin and so meagre to look at that it seemed scarce worth twopence. And when he found himself in such sorry case he made sore lament; for it seemed to him that no man was ever so sorely shamed, and he were liever he were dead than living.
With that came towards him a damsel, bearing a scourge in her hand, and she began to smite the steed and to lead it swiftly through the streets of the town. And when the minstrels saw the knight in the cart they followed shouting and crying, and they threw on him mud, and dirt and old clouted rags in great plenty. Thus they followed him forth from the town, pelting him with all the dirt they might find.
And when he had passed the bridge the damsel stayed, and unbound him, and bade him descend from the cart, for there had he been over long. And he sprang down forthwith and mounted his steed and asked of the damsel the name of the castle, and she said ’twas the castle of Corbenic. And he went his way, making bitter lamentation, and cursing the hour he was born and that he was made knight. For now had he lived over long, since that he had been held the vilest and the most shamed among men.
So Sir Gawain went his way, making lament and weeping right bitterly. Thus he wandered all day without meat or drink till at even he came to a hermitage, where dwelt one whom men called the Secret Hermit, and ’twas even as he was about to chant vespers. Sir Gawain hearkened right willingly; and when they were done the holy man entered his cell and asked of Sir Gawain who he might be, and Sir Gawain told him the truth.
“Ha! Sir knight, ye be right welcome. Certes of all the knights in the world ye be the knight I most desired to see; but tell me, for God’s sake, where did ye lie overnight?”
Sir Gawain was that wrathful he might not speak, but the tears came even to his eyes; and the holy man saw well that some matter had vexed him, so that he left speaking, save that he said: “Sir, be not vexed at aught that hath befallen ye, for there liveth no man so valiant but mischance o’ertaketh him at times.”
“Certes, Sir,” quoth Sir Gawain, “I know right well that there be none so valiant but he findeth ill-luck now and again, yet never to my thinking did one man alone have such ill-hap as hath fallen to me this fortnight past.” Then he began to tell him all that had befallen him at the castle of Corbenic, and the holy man looked on him, and became sore amazed, so that for awhile he spake no word; and when he might speak he said, “Ha, Sir, God help ye, for truly ’twas great mischance when ye saw, and yet wist not what ye saw!”
“Ha, fair Sir,” quoth Sir Gawain, “an ye know what ’twas that I beheld tell me, I pray ye!”
“Certes,” quoth the Hermit, “’twas the Holy Grail, in the which the blood of Our Lord was received and held, and when ye beheld it not in humility and lowliness ye merited right well punishment, and so were ye forbidden to partake of its Bread, and that saw ye right well, for when all the others were served ye were passed over.”
“For God’s sake, Sir,” quoth Sir Gawain, “tell me the truth of the marvels I beheld.”
“Through me,” quoth the Hermit, “may ye not know them, yet shall it be but a short while ere ye shall learn.”
“Ha, fair Sir,” saith the knight, “tell me at least the signification of the dragon, an ye know.”
“That will I tell ye,” quoth the Hermit, “but after shall ye ask me no more, for no more may ye hear as at this time.
“Verily did ye see in the chamber a dragon, which cast forth from its mouth fire and flame and young dragons, which it left even in the chamber, and went forth and entered into the great hall. And when it came thither it found a leopard, against which it battled mightily, but might not overcome it. And when it saw it might not have the victory it returned back into the chamber whence it came forth, and there did the young dragons fall upon it, and they slew each the other – and that did ye behold.”
“Yea, ’twas even so,” quoth Sir Gawain.
“Now will I tell ye,” quoth the holy man, “the signification thereof. The mighty and great dragon figureth the King Arthur, your uncle, who shall depart from his land, even as the dragon departed from the chamber, leaving therein his knights and kinsmen, even as the dragon left its young. And like as the dragon fought against the leopard, yet might not overcome, so shall King Arthur make war upon a knight, but shall not vanquish him, though he strive with all his power. And like as the dragon returned to his lair when it might not put the leopard to the worse, even so shall the King get him back to his own land when he seeth that he may in no wise get the better of that knight. And then shall a marvellous adventure befall ye, for even as ye lost your sight, the while that the dragon and the leopard strove together, so shall the light of your prowess be put out. But when the King shall return to his land it shall chance unto him as it chanced unto the dragon, for his own men shall fall upon him, even as the young fell upon the old dragon, and the conflict shall endure till all shall alike be slain.
“Now have ye heard the signification of the dragon, so have I done your behest, even as I will ye shall do mine, when that I shall ask ye.”
And Sir Gawain said even so would he do.
“Now,” quoth the holy man, “it behoveth ye to swear upon these relics that never in your life will ye speak of that which ye have seen, or tell it unto man or woman.” And he sware, yet in his heart was he sore dismayed for the words that he had heard, yet did he make good cheer, though his heart misgave him.
That night he lay within, and was well served of all that the holy man might have, and the morrow, so soon as he had heard Mass from the lips of the Hermit, he armed himself, and mounted his steed, and commended the holy man to God, and went his way as before. But now doth the tale cease speaking of Sir Gawain, and telleth awhile of Hector, who had set himself to search for Sir Lancelot.
The Legend of Sir Gawain
Studies upon Its Original Scope and Significance: Chapters I, II, III, VI and IX
by Jessie L. Weston
The previous sections of this book have followed on from Jessie L. Weston’s prose version of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight with her retellings of other Gawain stories. Verse reproductions from the Percy Folio have also shown remarkable similarities to the content of the more famous Green Knight story, though with notable differences. In conclusion to this volume it would seem fitting to delve further into the legend surrounding Gawain, and so we have included a selection of chapter extracts from Weston’s own foundational studies on the subject.
This intriguing work explores the origins of the Gawain legend, along with the contradictory elements of his character and the varied interpretations over the centuries. Chapter I introduces the ideas covered in Weston’s studies, with Chapter II discussing early conceptions of Gawain and drawing fascinating parallels to the Irish Cuchulinn from the Ulster cycle. Chapter III provides useful summaries of the legend as it appears by the poets Chrétien de Troyes and Wolfram von Eschenbach. Chapter VI touches on the role of women in Gawain’s adventures, and the conflicting ways in which he acts towards them. Finally, Chapter IX takes Sir Gawain and the Green Knight as its focus, comparing the various forms of the story and highlighting its most significant aspects.
Chapter I
Introductory
Ever since the days when Geoffrey of Monmouth gave to the world that fascinating combination of fact and fiction which he dignified by the title of ‘History’, the fame of King Arthur and his knights has been one of the most precious heritages of the English people – one of the most fruitful sources of inspiration to writers other than English. For if we alone may claim King Arthur as ours by right of birth, he has become, as it were, the property of the whole world by right of literary inspiration.
Indeed, if to have been the first to enshrine the story of a hero in undying literary form were to constitute a prior right to that hero, then France and Germany, rather than England, might claim King Arthur as their own; for though he was to English minds a tradition, an ideal (dare we say, a memory?), the English tongue was, at the time of King Arthur’s highest glory, but in its childhood – too halting, too unformed, to give full expression to England’s pride in her national hero.
