Anonymous ..............................................................................................................................................1

Note, section breaks are not included in the translation, and serve merely to better present the text.

The poem of which the following pages offer a prose rendering is contained in a MS., believed to be unique,

of the Cottonian Collection, Nero A.X., preserved in the British Museum. The MS. is of the end of the

fourteenth century, but it is possible that the composition of the poem is somewhat earlier; the subjectmatter

is certainly of very old date. There has been a considerable divergence of opinion among scholars on the

question of authorship, but the view now generally accepted is that it is the work of the same hand as Pearl,

Our poem, or, to speak more correctly, metrical romance, contains over 2500 lines, and is composed in staves

of varying length, ending in five short rhyming lines, technically known as a bob and a wheel,the lines

forming the body of the stave being not rhyming, but alliterative. The dialect in which it is written has been

decided to be West Midland, probably Lancashire, and is by no means easy to understand. Indeed, it is the

real difficulty and obscurity of the language, which, in spite of careful and scholarly editing, will always

place the poem in its original form outside the range of any but professed students of medićval literature,

which has encouraged me to make an attempt to render it more accessible to the general public, by giving it a

form that shall be easily intelligible, and at the same time preserve as closely as possible the style of the

For that style, in spite of a certain roughness, unavoidable at a period in which the language was still in a

partially developed and amorphous stage, is really charming. The author has a keen eye for effect; a talent for

description, detailed without becoming wearisome; a genuine love of Nature and sympathy with her varying

moods; and a real refinement and elevation of feeling which enable him to deal with a risqué: situation with

an absence of coarseness, not, unfortunately, to be always met with in a medićval writer. Standards of taste

vary with the age, but even judged by that of our own day the author of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

The story with which the poem deals, too, has claims upon our interest. I have shown elsewhere that the

beheading challenge is an incident of very early occurrence in heroic legend, and that the particular form

given to it in the English poem is especially interesting, corresponding as it does to the variations of the story

But in no other version is the incident coupled with that of a temptation and testing of the hero's honour and

chastity, such as meets us here. At first sight one is inclined to assign the episode of the lady of the castle to

the class of stories of which the oldest version is preserved in Biblical recordthe story of Joseph and

Potiphar's wife; a motif not unseldom employed by medićval writers, and which notably occurs in what we

may call the Launfal group of stories. But there are certain points which may make us hesitate as to whether

It must be noted that here the lady is acting throughout with the knowledge and consent of the husband, an

important point of difference. In the second place, it is very doubtful whether her entire attitude was not a

ruse. From the Green Knight's words to Gawain when he finally reveals himself, "I wot we shall soon make

peace with my wife, who was thy bitter enemy," her conduct hardly seems to have been prompted by real

In my Studies on the Legend of Sir Gawain, already referred to, I have suggested that the character of the

lady here is, perhaps, a reminiscence of that of the Queen of the Magic Castle or Isle, daughter or niece of an

enchanter, who at an early stage of Gawain's story was undoubtedly his love. I think it not impossible that she

was an integral part of the tale as first told, and her rôle here was determined by that which she originally

played. In most versions of the story she has dropped out altogether. It is, of course, possible that, there being

but a confused reminiscence of the original tale, her share may have been modified by the influence of the

Launfal group; but I should prefer to explain the episode on the whole as a somewhat distorted survival of an

But in any case we may be thankful for this, that the author of the most important English metrical romance

dealing with Arthurian legend faithfully adheres to the original conception of Gawain's character, as drawn

before the monkish lovers of edification laid their ruthless hands on his legend, and turned the model of

Brave, chivalrous, loyally faithful to his plighted word, scrupulously heedful of his own and others' honour,

Gawain stands before us in this poem. We take up Malory or Tennyson, and in spite of their charm of style,

in spite of the halo of religious mysticism in which they have striven to enwrap their characters, we lay them

down with a feeling of dissatisfaction. How did the Gawain of their imagination, this emptyheaded,

emptyhearted worldling, cruel murderer, and treacherous friend, ever come to be the typical English hero?

For such Gawain certainly was, even more than Arthur himself. Then we turn back to these faded pages, and

read the quaintly earnest words in which the old writer reveals the hidden meaning of that mystic symbol, the

pentangle, and vindicates Gawain's title to claim it as his badgeand we smile, perhaps, but we cease to

wonder at the widespread popularity of King Arthur's famous nephew, or at the immense body of romance

Scholars know all this, of course; they can read the poem for themselves in its original rough and intricate

phraseology; perhaps they will be shocked at an attempt to handle it in simpler form. But this little book is

not for them, and if to those to whom the tale would otherwise be a sealed treasure these pages bring some

new knowledge of the way in which our forefathers looked on the characters of the Arthurian legend, the

tales they told of them (unconsciously betraying the while how they themselves lived and thought and

spoke)if by that means they gain a keener appreciation of our national heroes, a wider knowledge of our

national literature,then the spirit of the longdead poet will doubtless not be the slowest to pardon my

handling of what was his masterpiece, as it is, in M. Gaston Paris' words, "The jewel of English medićval

In preparing this Second Edition I have adopted certain suggestions of the late Professor Kölbing, contained

in a review published by him in Englische Studien xxvi. In one or two instances, however, I have not felt free

to follow his readinge.g., on page 67, in ţrynne syţe must certainly mean "for the third time," not "thrice."

The lady has already kissed Gawain twice during the interview; Professor Kölbing's suggestion would make

him receive five kisses, instead of three, the correct number. Nor do I think the story would gain anything by

reproducing the details of the dissection of animals on page 46. This little series is not intended for scholars,

who can study the original works for themselves, but for the general public, and I have therefore avoided any

digression from the main thread of the story. In the main, however, I have gladly availed myself of the late

After the siege and the assault of Troy, when that burg was destroyed and burnt to ashes, and the traitor tried

for his treason, the noble Ćneas and his kin sailed forth to become princes and patrons of wellnigh all the

Western Isles. Thus Romulus built Rome (and gave to the city his own name, which it bears even to this day);

and Ticius turned him to Tuscany; and Langobard raised him up dwellings in Lombardy; and Felix Brutus

sailed far over the French flood, and founded the kingdom of Britain, wherein have been war and waste and

And in that kingdom of Britain have been wrought more gallant deeds than in any other; but of all British

kings Arthur was the most valiant, as I have heard tell, therefore will I set forth a wondrous adventure that

fell out in his time. And if ye will listen to me, but for a little while, I will tell it even as it stands in story stiff

King Arthur lay at Camelot upon a Christmastide, with many a gallant lord and lovely lady, and all the

noble brotherhood of the Round Table. There they held rich revels with gay talk and jest; one while they

would ride forth to joust and tourney, and again back to the court to make carols; for there was the feast

holden fifteen days with all the mirth that men could devise, song and glee, glorious to hear, in the daytime,

and dancing at night. Halls and chambers were crowded with noble guests, the bravest of knights and the

loveliest of ladies, and Arthur himself was the comeliest king that ever held a court. For all this fair folk were

in their youth, the fairest and most fortunate under heaven, and the king himself of such fame that it were

Now the New Year had but newly come in, and on that day a double portion was served on the high table to

all the noble guests, and thither came the king with all his knights, when the service in the chapel had been

sung to an end. And they greeted each other for the New Year, and gave rich gifts, the one to the other (and

they that received them were not wroth, that may ye well believe!), and the maidens laughed and made mirth

till it was time to get them to meat. Then they washed and sat them down to the feast in fitting rank and order,

and Guinevere the queen, gaily clad, sat on the high daďs. Silken was her seat, with a fair canopy over her

head, of rich tapestries of Tars, embroidered, and studded with costly gems; fair she was to look upon, with

her shining grey eyes, a fairer woman might no man boast himself of having seen.

But Arthur would not eat till all were served, so full of joy and gladness was he, even as a child; he liked not

either to lie long, or to sit long at meat, so worked upon him his young blood and his wild brain. And another

custom he had also, that came of his nobility, that he would never eat upon an high day till he had been

advised of some knightly deed, or some strange and marvellous tale, of his ancestors, or of arms, or of other

ventures. Or till some stranger knight should seek of him leave to joust with one of the Round Table, that

they might set their lives in jeopardy, one against another, as fortune might favour them. Such was the king's

custom when he sat in hall at each high feast with his noble knights, therefore on that New Year tide, he

Thus the king sat before the high tables, and spake of many things; and there good Sir Gawain was seated by

Guinevere the queen, and on her other side sat Agravain, ŕ la dure main; both were the king's sister's sons and

full gallant knights. And at the end of the table was Bishop Bawdewyn, and Ywain, King Urien's son, sat at

the other side alone. These were worthily served on the daďs, and at the lower tables sat many valiant knights.

Then they bare the first course with the blast of trumpets and waving of banners, with the sound of drums and

pipes, of song and lute, that many a heart was uplifted at the melody. Many were the dainties, and rare the

meats, so great was the plenty they might scarce find room on the board to set on the dishes. Each helped

himself as he liked best, and to each two were twelve dishes, with great plenty of beer and wine.

Now I will say no more of the service, but that ye may know there was no lack, for there drew near a venture

that the folk might well have left their labour to gaze upon. As the sound of the music ceased, and the first

course had been fitly served, there came in at the hall door one terrible to behold, of stature greater than any

on earth; from neck to loin so strong and thickly made, and with limbs so long and so great that he seemed

even as a giant. And yet he was but a man, only the mightiest that might mount a steed; broad of chest and

shoulders and slender of waist, and all his features of like fashion; but men marvelled much at his colour, for

For he was clad all in green, with a straight coat, and a mantle above; all decked and lined with fur was the

cloth and the hood that was thrown back from his locks and lay on his shoulders. Hose had he of the same

green, and spurs of bright gold with silken fastenings richly worked; and all his vesture was verily green.

Around his waist and his saddle were bands with fair stones set upon silken work, 'twere too long to tell of all

the trifles that were embroidered thereonbirds and insects in gay gauds of green and gold. All the trappings

of his steed were of metal like enamel, even the stirrups that he stood in stained of the same, and stirrups and

saddlebow alike gleamed and shone with green stones. Even the steed on which he rode was of the same

hue, a green horse, great and strong, and hard to hold, with broidered bridle, meet for the rider.

The knight was thus gaily dressed in green, his hair falling around his shoulders; on his breast hung a beard,

as thick and green as a bush, and the beard and the hair of his head were clipped all round above his elbows.

The lower part of his sleeves were fastened with clasps in the same wise as a king's mantle. The horse's mane

was crisp and plaited with many a knot folded in with gold thread about the fair green, here a twist of the

hair, here another of gold. The tail was twined in like manner, and both were bound about with a band of

bright green set with many a precious stone; then they were tied aloft in a cunning knot, whereon rang many

bells of burnished gold. Such a steed might no other ride, nor had such ever been looked upon in that hall ere

that time; and all who saw that knight spake and said that a man might scarce abide his stroke.

The knight bore no helm nor hauberk, neither gorget nor breastplate, neither shaft nor buckler to smite nor

to shield, but in one hand he had a hollybough, that is greenest when the groves are bare, and in his other an

axe, huge and uncomely, a cruel weapon in fashion, if one would picture it. The head was an ellyard long,

the metal all of green steel and gold, the blade burnished bright, with a broad edge, as well shapen to shear as

a sharp razor. The steel was set into a strong staff, all bound round with iron, even to the end, and engraved

with green in cunning work. A lace was twined about it, that looped at the head, and all adown the handle it

The knight rideth through the entrance of the hall, driving straight to the high daďs, and greeted no man, but

looked ever upwards; and the first words he spake were, "Where is the ruler of this folk? I would gladly look

upon that hero, and have speech with him." He cast his eyes on the knights, and mustered them up and down,

Then was there great gazing to behold that chief, for each man marvelled what it might mean that a knight

and his steed should have even such a hue as the green grass; and that seemed even greener than green

enamel on bright gold. All looked on him as he stood, and drew near unto him wondering greatly what he

might be; for many marvels had they seen, but none such as this, and phantasm and faërie did the folk deem

it. Therefore were the gallant knights slow to answer, and gazed astounded, and sat stone still in a deep

silence through that goodly hall, as if a slumber were fallen upon them. I deem it was not all for doubt, but

Then Arthur beheld this adventurer before his high daďs, and knightly he greeted him, for fearful was he

never. "Sir," he said, "thou art welcome to this placelord of this hall am I, and men call me Arthur. Light

"Nay," quoth the stranger, "so help me He that sitteth on high, 'twas not mine errand to tarry any while in this

dwelling; but the praise of this thy folk and thy city is lifted up on high, and thy warriors are holden for the

best and the most valiant of those who ride mailclad to the fight. The wisest and the worthiest of this world

are they, and well proven in all knightly sports. And here, as I have heard tell, is fairest courtesy, therefore

have I come hither as at this time. Ye may be sure by the branch that I bear here that I come in peace, seeking

no strife. For had I willed to journey in warlike guise I have at home both hauberk and helm, shield and

shining spear, and other weapons to mine hand, but since I seek no war my raiment is that of peace. But if

And Arthur answered, "Sir Knight, if thou cravest battle here thou shalt not fail for lack of a foe."

And the knight answered, "Nay, I ask no fight, in faith here on the benches are but beardless children, were I

clad in armour on my steed there is no man here might match me. Therefore I ask in this court but a

Christmas jest, for that it is Yuletide, and New Year, and there are here many fain for sport. If any one in

this hall holds himself so hardy, so bold both of blood and brain, as to dare strike me one stroke for another, I

will give him as a gift this axe, which is heavy enough, in sooth, to handle as he may list, and I will abide the

first blow, unarmed as I sit. If any knight be so bold as to prove my words let him come swiftly to me here,

and take this weapon, I quit claim to it, he may keep it as his own, and I will abide his stroke, firm on the

floor. Then shalt thou give me the right to deal him another, the respite of a year and a day shall he have.

Now if the knights had been astounded at the first, yet stiller were they all, high and low, when they had

heard his words. The knight on his steed straightened himself in the saddle, and rolled his eyes fiercely round

the hall, red they gleamed under his green and bushy brows. He frowned and twisted his beard, waiting to see

who should rise, and when none answered he cried aloud in mockery, "What, is this Arthur's hall, and these

the knights whose renown hath run through many realms? Where are now your pride and your conquests,

your wrath, and anger, and mighty words? Now are the praise and the renown of the Round Table overthrown

by one man's speech, since all keep silence for dread ere ever they have seen a blow!"

With that he laughed so loudly that the blood rushed to the king's fair face for very shame; he waxed wroth,

as did all his knights, and sprang to his feet, and drew near to the stranger and said, "Now by heaven foolish

is thy asking, and thy folly shall find its fitting answer. I know no man aghast at thy great words. Give me

here thine axe and I shall grant thee the boon thou hast asked." Lightly he sprang to him and caught at his

Then Arthur took the axe and gripped the haft, and swung it round, ready to strike. And the knight stood

before him, taller by the head than any in the hall; he stood, and stroked his beard, and drew down his coat,

no more dismayed for the king's threats than if one had brought him a drink of wine.

Then Gawain, who sat by the queen, leaned forward to the king and spake, "I beseech ye, my lord, let this

venture be mine. Would ye but bid me rise from this seat, and stand by your side, so that my liege lady

thought it not ill, then would I come to your counsel before this goodly court. For I think it not seemly when

such challenges be made in your hall that ye yourself should undertake it, while there are many bold knights

who sit beside ye, none are there, methinks, of readier will under heaven, or more valiant in open field. I am

the weakest, I wot, and the feeblest of wit, and it will be the less loss of my life if ye seek sooth. For save that

ye are mine uncle naught is there in me to praise, no virtue is there in my body save your blood, and since this

challenge is such folly that it beseems ye not to take it, and I have asked it from ye first, let it fall to me, and

Then they all spake with one voice that the king should leave this venture and grant it to Gawain.

Then Arthur commanded the knight to rise, and he rose up quickly and knelt down before the king, and

caught hold of the weapon; and the king loosed his hold of it, and lifted up his hand, and gave him his

blessing, and bade him be strong both of heart and hand. "Keep thee well, nephew," quoth Arthur, "that thou

give him but the one blow, and if thou redest him rightly I trow thou shalt well abide the stroke he may give

Gawain stepped to the stranger, axe in hand, and he, never fearing, awaited his coming. Then the Green

Knight spake to Sir Gawain, "Make we our covenant ere we go further. First, I ask thee, knight, what is thy

"In faith," quoth the good knight, "Gawain am I, who give thee this buffet, let what may come of it; and at

this time twelvemonth will I take another at thine hand with whatsoever weapon thou wilt, and none other."

Then the other answered again, "Sir Gawain, so may I thrive as I am fain to take this buffet at thine hand,"

and he quoth further, "Sir Gawain, it liketh me well that I shall take at thy fist that which I have asked here,

and thou hast readily and truly rehearsed all the covenant that I asked of the king, save that thou shalt swear

me, by thy troth, to seek me thyself wherever thou hopest that I may be found, and win thee such reward as

"Where shall I seek thee?" quoth Gawain. "Where is thy place? By Him that made me, I wot never where

thou dwellest, nor know I thee, knight, thy court, nor thy name. But teach me truly all that pertaineth thereto,

and tell me thy name, and I shall use all my wit to win my way thither, and that I swear thee for sooth, and by

"That is enough in the New Year, it needs no more," quoth the Green Knight to the gallant Gawain, "if I tell

thee truly when I have taken the blow, and thou hast smitten me; then will I teach thee of my house and

home, and mine own name, then mayest thou ask thy road and keep covenant. And if I waste no words then

farest thou the better, for thou canst dwell in thy land, and seek no further. But take now thy toll, and let see

Then the Green Knight swiftly made him ready, he bowed down his head, and laid his long locks on the

crown that his bare neck might be seen. Gawain gripped his axe and raised it on high, the left foot he set

forward on the floor, and let the blow fall lightly on the bare neck. The sharp edge of the blade sundered the

bones, smote through the neck, and clave it in two, so that the edge of the steel bit on the ground, and the fair

head fell to the earth that many struck it with their feet as it rolled forth. The blood spurted forth, and

glistened on the green raiment, but the knight neither faltered nor fell; he started forward with outstretched

hand, and caught the head, and lifted it up; then he turned to his steed, and took hold of the bridle, set his foot

in the stirrup, and mounted. His head he held by the hair, in his hand. Then he seated himself in his saddle as

if naught ailed him, and he were not headless. He turned his steed about, the grim corpse bleeding freely the

For he held up the head in his hand, and turned the face towards them that sat on the high daďs, and it lifted up

the eyelids and looked upon them and spake as ye shall hear. "Look, Gawain, that thou art ready to go as thou

hast promised, and seek leally till thou find me, even as thou hast sworn in this hall in the hearing of these

knights. Come thou, I charge thee, to the Green Chapel, such a stroke as thou hast dealt thou hast deserved,

and it shall be promptly paid thee on New Year's morn. Many men know me as the knight of the Green

Chapel, and if thou askest, thou shalt not fail to find me. Therefore it behoves thee to come, or to yield thee as

With that he turned his bridle, and galloped out at the hall door, his head in his hands, so that the sparks flew

from beneath his horse's hoofs. Whither he went none knew, no more than they wist whence he had come;

and the king and Gawain they gazed and laughed, for in sooth this had proved a greater marvel than any they

Though Arthur the king was astonished at his heart, yet he let no sign of it be seen, but spake in courteous

wise to the fair queen: "Dear lady, be not dismayed, such craft is well suited to Christmastide when we seek

jesting, laughter and song, and fair carols of knights and ladies. But now I may well get me to meat, for I

have seen a marvel I may not forget." Then he looked on Sir Gawain, and said gaily, "Now, fair nephew,

hang up thine axe, since it has hewn enough," and they hung it on the dossal above the daďs, where all men

might look on it for a marvel, and by its true token tell of the wonder. Then the twain sat them down together,

the king and the good knight, and men served them with a double portion, as was the share of the noblest,

with all manner of meat and of minstrelsy. And they spent that day in gladness, but Sir Gawain must well

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.

For Yule was now overpast, 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, 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

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

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

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, tomorrow am I

Then came together all the noblest knights, Ywain and Erec, and many another. Sir Dodinel le Sauvage, the

Duke of Clarence, 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

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 (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 kneecaps, 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 elbowpieces, 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

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

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 truelover's knot interlaced thickly, even

as many a maiden had wrought diligently for seven winter long. 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. 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 erewhile, 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 fivefold, 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

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, fivefold, 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,

redgold upon red, which is the pure pentangle. Now was Sir Gawain ready, and he took his lance in hand,

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,

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,

where but few dwell who love God and man of true heart. 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

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 wellproved valour, and a servant of God, 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 ChristmasEve, 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 selfsame 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

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; 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

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 chalkwhite 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

The knight on his steed deemed it fair enough, if he might come to be sheltered within it to lodge there while

that the Holyday lasted. He called aloud, and soon there came a porter of kindly countenance, who stood on

"Good sir," quoth Gawain, "wilt thou go mine errand to the high lord of the castle, and crave for me

"Yea, by S. Peter," quoth the porter. "In sooth I trow that ye be welcome to dwell here so long as it may like

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 courteously he bid them rise, 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

Sir Gawain gave good greeting to the noble 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."

As friends that were fain each embraced the other; and Gawain looked on the knight who greeted him so

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

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

Then before the hearthplace, 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 saltcellar, and napkin, and silver spoons; and

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

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

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 of 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

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 a 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 with the worship thereof who should make most mirth that

Christmastide. "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.

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 daďs 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.

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 you, and I

am but at your will to work your behest, inasmuch as I am beholden to you 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

"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 you 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 littleI'faith, I

would look on that hero more joyfully than on any other fair sight! Therefore, by your will, it behoves me to

leave you, 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 you 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 midmorn 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 you for this above all else. Now my quest is

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

"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 tomorrow at

Masstide, and go to meat when ye will with my wife, who shall sit with you, and comfort you with her

company till I return; and I shall rise early and go forth to the chase." And Gawain agreed to all this

"Sir knight," quoth the host, "we shall 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,

"I grant ye your will," quoth Gawain the good; "if ye list so to do, it liketh me well."

"Bring hither the winecup, 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 servingman, was each led to his couch; yet ere they gat them to bed the old

Full early, ere daylight, the folk rose up; the guests who would depart called their grooms, and they made

them ready, and saddled the steeds, tightened up the girths, and trussed up their mails. The knights, all

arrayed for riding, leapt up lightly, and took their bridles, and each rode his way as pleased him best.

The lord of the land was not the last. Ready for the chase, with many of his men, he ate a sop hastily when he

had heard Mass, and then with blast of the bugle fared forth to the field. He and his nobles were to horse ere

Then the huntsmen coupled their hounds, unclosed the kennel door, and called them out. They blew three

blasts gaily on the bugles, the hounds bayed fiercely, and they that would go ahunting checked and

chastised them. A hundred hunters there were of the best, so I have heard tell. Then the trackers gat them to

the trystingplace and uncoupled the hounds, and forest rang again with their gay blasts.

At the first sound of the hunt the game quaked for fear, and fled, trembling, along the vale. They betook them

to the heights, but the liers in wait turned them back with loud cries; the harts they let pass them, and the

stags with their spreading antlers, for the lord had forbidden that they should be slain, but the hinds and the

does they turned back, and drave down into the valleys. Then might ye see much shooting of arrows. As the

deer fled under the boughs a broad whistling shaft smote and wounded each sorely, so that, wounded and

bleeding, they fell dying on the banks. The hounds followed swiftly on their tracks, and hunters, blowing the

horn, sped after them with ringing shouts as if the cliffs burst asunder. What game escaped those that shot

was run down at the outer ring. Thus were they driven on the hills, and harassed at the waters, so well did the

men know their work, and the greyhounds were so great and swift that they ran them down as fast as the

hunters could slay them. Thus the lord passed the day in mirth and joyfulness, even to nightfall.

So the lord roamed the woods, and Gawain, that good night, lay ever abed, curtained about, under the costly

coverlet, while the daylight gleamed on the walls. And as he lay half slumbering, he heard a little sound at the

door, and he raised his head, and caught back a corner of the curtain, and waited to see what it might be. It

was the lovely lady, the lord's wife; she shut the door softly behind her, and turned towards the bed; and

Gawain was shamed, laid him down softly and made as if he slept. And she came lightly to the bedside,

within the curtain, and sat herself down beside him, to wait till he wakened. The knight lay there awhile, and

marvelled within himself what her coming might betoken; and he said to himself, "'Twere more seemly if I

asked her what hath brought her hither." Then he made feint to waken, and turned towards her, and opened

his eyes as one astonished, and crossed himself; and she looked on him laughing, with her cheeks red and

"Good morrow, Sir Gawain," said that fair lady; "ye are but a careless sleeper, since one can enter thus. Now

are ye taken unawares, and lest ye escape me I shall bind you in your bed; of that be ye assured!" Laughing,

"Good morrow, fair lady," quoth Gawain blithely. "I will do your will, as it likes me well. For I yield me

readily, and pray your grace, and that is best, by my faith, since I needs must do so." Thus he jested again,

laughing. "But an ye would, fair lady, grant me this grace that ye pray your prisoner to rise. I would get me

"Nay, forsooth, fair sir," quoth the lady, "ye shall not rise, I will rede ye better. I shall keep ye here, since ye

can do no other, and talk with my knight whom I have captured. For I know well that ye are Sir Gawain,

whom all the world worships, wheresoever ye may ride. Your honour and your courtesy are praised by lords

and ladies, by all who live. Now ye are here and we are alone, my lord and his men are afield; the serving

men in their beds, and my maidens also, and the door shut upon us. And since in this hour I have him that all

men love, I shall use my time well with speech, while it lasts. Ye are welcome to my company, for it behoves

"In good faith," quoth Gawain, "I think me that I am not him of whom ye speak, for unworthy am I of such

service as ye here proffer. In sooth, I were glad if I might set myself by word or service to your pleasure; a

"In good faith, Sir Gawain," quoth the gay lady, "the praise and the prowess that pleases all ladies I lack them

not, nor hold them light; yet are there ladies enough who would liefer now have the knight in their hold, as I

have ye here, to dally with your courteous words, to bring them comfort and to ease their cares, than much of

the treasure and the gold that are theirs. And now, through the grace of Him who upholds the heavens, I have

Thus the lady, fair to look upon, made him great cheer, and Sir Gawain, with modest words, answered her

again: "Madam," he quoth, "may Mary requite ye, for in good faith I have found in ye a noble frankness.

Much courtesy have other folk shown me, but the honour they have done me is naught to the worship of

"By Mary," quoth the lady, "I think otherwise; for were I worth all the women alive, and had I the wealth of

the world in my hand, and might choose me a lord to my liking, then, for all that I have seen in ye, Sir

Knight, of beauty and courtesy and blithe semblance, and for all that I have hearkened and hold for true, there

"Well I wot," quoth Sir Gawain, "that ye have chosen a better; but I am proud that ye should so prize me, and

as your servant do I hold ye my sovereign, and your knight am I, and may Christ reward ye."

So they talked of many matters till midmorn was past, and ever the lady made as though she loved him, and

the knight turned her speech aside. For though she were the brightest of maidens, yet had he forborne to shew

her love for the danger that awaited him, and the blow that must be given without delay.

Then the lady prayed her leave from him, and he granted it readily. And she bade him goodday, with

"Now He that speeds fair speech reward ye this disport; but that ye be Gawain my mind misdoubts me

"Wherefore?" quoth the knight quickly, fearing lest he had lacked in some courtesy.

And the lady spake: "So true a knight as Gawain is holden, and one so perfect in courtesy, would never have

tarried so long with a lady but he would of his courtesy have craved a kiss at parting."

Then quoth Gawain, "I wot I will do even as it may please ye, and kiss at your commandment, as a true

At that she came near and bent down and kissed the knight, and each commended the other to Christ, and she

Then Sir Gawain arose and called his chamberlain and chose his garments, and when he was ready he gat him

forth to Mass, and then went to meat, and made merry all day till the rising of the moon, and never had a

knight fairer lodging than had he with those two noble ladies, the elder and the younger.

And even the lord of the land chased the hinds through holt and heath till eventide, and then with much

blowing of bugles and baying of hounds they bore the game homeward; and by the time daylight was done all

the folk had returned to that fair castle. And when the lord and Sir Gawain met together, then were they both

well pleased. The lord commanded them all to assemble in the great hall, and the ladies to descend with their

maidens, and there, before them all, he bade the men fetch in the spoil of the day's hunting, and he called unto

Gawain, and counted the tale of the beasts, and showed them unto him, and said, "What think ye of this

"Yea, I wis," quoth the other, "here is the fairest spoil I have seen this seven year in the winter season."

"And all this do I give ye, Gawain," quoth the host, "for by accord of covenant ye may claim it as your own."

"That is sooth," quoth the other, "I grant you that same; and I have fairly won this within walls, and with as

good will do I yield it to ye." With that he clasped his hands round the lord's neck and kissed him as

courteously as he might. "Take ye here my spoils, no more have I won; ye should have it freely, though it

"'Tis good," said the host, "gramercy thereof. Yet were I fain to know where ye won this same favour, and if

"Nay," answered Gawain, "that was not in the bond. Ask me no more: ye have taken what was yours by right,

They laughed and jested together, and sat them down to supper, where they were served with many dainties;

and after supper they sat by the hearth, and wine was served to them; and oft in their jesting they promised to

observe on the morrow the same covenant that they had made before, and whatever chance might betide to

exchange their spoil, be it much or little, when they met at night. Thus they renewed their bargain before the

whole court, and then the nightdrink was served, and each courteously took leave of the other and gat him to

By the time the cock had crowed thrice the lord of the castle had left his bed; Mass was sung and meat fitly

served. The folk were forth to the wood ere the day broke, with hound and horn they rode over the plain, and

uncoupled their dogs among the thorns. Soon they struck on the scent, and the hunt cheered on the hounds

who were first to seize it, urging them with shouts. The others hastened to the cry, forty at once, and there

rose such a clamour from the pack that the rocks rang again. The huntsmen spurred them on with shouting

and blasts of the horn; and the hounds drew together to a thicket betwixt the water and a high crag in the cliff

beneath the hillside. There where the rough rock fell ruggedly they, the huntsmen, fared to the finding, and

cast about round the hill and the thicket behind them. The knights wist well what beast was within, and would

drive him forth with the bloodhounds. And as they beat the bushes, suddenly over the beaters there rushed

forth a wondrous great and fierce boar, long since had he left the herd to roam by himself. Grunting, he cast

many to the ground, and fled forth at his best speed, without more mischief. The men hallooed loudly and

cried, "Hay! Hay!" and blew the horns to urge on the hounds, and rode swiftly after the boar. Many a time did

he turn to bay and tare the hounds, and they yelped, and howled shrilly. Then the men made ready their

arrows and shot at him, but the points were turned on his thick hide, and the barbs would not bite upon him,

for the shafts shivered in pieces, and the head but leapt again wherever it hit.

But when the boar felt the stroke of the arrows he waxed mad with rage, and turned on the hunters and tare

many, so that, affrightened, they fled before him. But the lord on a swift steed pursued him, blowing his

bugle; as a gallant knight he rode through the woodland chasing the boar till the sun grew low.

So did the hunters this day, while Sir Gawain lay in his bed lapped in rich gear; and the lady forgat not to

She came to the bedside and looked on the knight, and Gawain gave her fit greeting, and she greeted him

again with ready words, and sat her by his side and laughed, and with a sweet look she spoke to him:

Sir, if ye be Gawain, I think it a wonder that ye be so stern and cold, and care not for the courtesies of

friendship, but if one teach ye to know them ye cast the lesson out of your mind. Ye have soon forgotten what

"What is that?" quoth the knight. "I trow I know not. If it be sooth that ye say, then is the blame mine own."

"But I taught ye of kissing, " quoth the fair lady. "Wherever a fair countenance is shown him, it behoves a

"Nay, my dear," said Sir Gawain, "cease that speech; that durst I not do lest I were denied, for I were

"I'faith," quoth the lady merrily, "ye may not be forbid, ye are strong enough to constrain by strength an ye

"Yea, by Heaven," said Gawain, "ye speak well; but threats profit little in the land where I dwell, and so with

a gift that is given not of good will! I am at your commandment to kiss when ye like, to take or to leave as ye

And as they spake together she said, "I would learn somewhat from ye, an ye would not be wroth, for young

ye bare and fair, and so courteous and knightly as ye are known to be, the head of all chivalry, and versed in

all wisdom of love and war'tis ever told of true knights how they adventured their lives for their true love,

and endured hardships for her favours, and avenged her with valour, and eased her sorrows, and brought joy

to her bower; and ye are the fairest knight of your time, and your fame and your honour are everywhere, yet I

have sat by ye here twice, and never a word have I heard of love! Ye who are so courteous and skilled in such

love ought surely to teach one so young and unskilled some little craft of true love! Why are ye so unlearned

who art otherwise so famous? Or is it that ye deemed me unworthy to hearken to your teaching? For shame,

Sir Knight! I come hither alone and sit at your side to learn of ye some skill; teach me of your wit, while my

"In good faith," quoth Gawain, "great is my joy and my profit that so fair a lady as ye are should deign to

come hither, and trouble ye with so poor a man, and make sport with your knight with kindly countenance, it

pleaseth me much. But that I, in my turn, should take it upon me to tell of love and such like matters to ye

who know more by half, or a hundred fold, of such craft than I do, or ever shall in all my lifetime, by my

troth 'twere folly indeed! I will work your will to the best of my might as I am bounden, and evermore will I

Then often with guile she questioned that knight that she might win him to woo her, but he defended himself

so fairly that none might in any wise blame him, and naught but bliss and harmless jesting was there between

them. They laughed and talked together till at last she kissed him, and craved her leave of him, and went her

Then the knight arose and went forth to Mass, and afterward dinner was served and he sat and spake with the

ladies all day. But the lord of the castle rode ever over the land chasing the wild boar, that fled through the

thickets, slaying the best of his hounds and breaking their backs in sunder; till at last he was so weary he

might run no longer, but made for a hole in a mound by a rock. He got the mound at his back and faced the

hounds, whetting his white tusks and foaming at the mouth. The huntsmen stood aloof, fearing to draw nigh

him; so many of them had been already wounded that they were loth to be torn with his tusks, so fierce he

was and mad with rage. At length the lord himself came up, and saw the beast at bay, and the men standing

aloof. Then quickly he sprang to the ground and drew out a bright blade, and waded through the stream to the

When the beast was aware of the knight with weapon in hand, he set up his bristles and snorted loudly, and

many feared for their lord lest he should be slain. Then the boar leapt upon the knight so that beast and man

were one atop of the other in the water; but the boar had the worst of it, for the man had marked, even as he

sprang, and set the point of his brand to the beast's chest, and drove it up to the hilt, so that the heart was split

in twain, and the boar fell snarling, and was swept down by the water to where a hundred hounds seized on

Then was there loud blowing of horns and baying of hounds, the huntsmen smote off the boar's head, and

hung the carcase by the four feet to a stout pole, and so went on their way homewards. The head they bore

before the lord himself, who had slain the beast at the ford by force of his strong hand.

It seemed him o'er long ere he saw Sir Gawain in the hall, and he called, and the guest came to take that

which fell to his share. And when he saw Gawain the lord laughed aloud, and bade them call the ladies and

the household together, and he showed them the game, and told them the tale, how they hunted the wild boar

through the woods, and of his length and breadth and height; and Sir Gawain commended his deeds and

praised him for his valour, well proven, for so mighty a beast had he never seen before.

Then they handled the huge head, and the lord said aloud, "Now, Gawain, this game is your own by sure

"'Tis sooth," quoth the knight, "and as truly will I give ye all I have gained." He took the host round the neck,

and kissed him courteously twice. "Now are we quits," he said, "this eventide, of all the covenants that we

And the lord answered, "By S. Giles, ye are the best I know; ye will be rich in a short space if ye drive such

Then they set up the tables on trestles, and covered them with fair cloths, and lit waxen tapers on the walls.

The knights sat and were served in the hall, and much game and glee was there round the hearth, with many

songs, both at supper and after; song of Christmas, and new carols, with all the mirth one may think of. And

ever that lovely lady sat by the knight, and with still stolen looks made such feint of pleasing him, that

Gawain marvelled much, and was wroth with himself, but he could not for his courtesy return her fair

glances, but dealt with her cunningly, however she might strive to wrest the thing.

When they had tarried in the hall so long as it seemed them good, they turned to the inner chamber and the

wide hearthplace, and there they drank wine, and the host proffered to renew the covenant for New Year's

Eve; but the knight craved leave to depart on the morrow, for it was nigh to the term when he must fulfil his

pledge. But the lord would withhold him from so doing, and prayed him to tarry, and said,

"As I am a true knight I swear my troth that ye shall come to the Green Chapel to achieve your task on New

Year's morn, long before prime. Therefore abide ye in your bed, and I will hunt in this wood, and hold ye to

the covenant to exchange with me against all the spoil I may bring hither. For twice have I tried ye, and found

ye true, and the morrow shall be the third time and the best. Make we merry now while we may, and think on

Then Gawain granted his request, and they brought them drink, and they gat them with lights to bed.

Sir Gawain lay and slept softly, but the lord, who was keen on woodcraft, was afoot early. After Mass he and

his men ate a morsel, and he asked for his steed; all the knights who should ride with him were already

'Twas a fair frosty morning, for the sun rose red in ruddy vapour, and the welkin was clear of clouds. The

hunters scattered them by a forest side, and the rocks rang again with the blast of their horns. Some came on

the scent of a fox, and a hound gave tongue; the huntsmen shouted, and the pack followed in a crowd on the

trail. The fox ran before them, and when they saw him they pursued him with noise and much shouting, and

he wound and turned through many a thick grove, often cowering and hearkening in a hedge. At last by a

little ditch he leapt out of a spinney, stole away slily by a copse path, and so out of the wood and away from

the hounds. But he went, ere he wist, to a chosen tryst, and three started forth on him at once, so he must

Then was it joyful to hearken to the hounds; when all the pack had met together and had sight of their game

they made as loud a din as if all the lofty cliffs had fallen clattering together. The huntsmen shouted and

threatened, and followed close upon him so that he might scarce escape, but Reynard was wily, and he turned

and doubled upon them, and led the lord and his men over the hills, now on the slopes, now in the vales,

while the knight at home slept through the cold morning beneath his costly curtains.

But the fair lady of the castle rose betimes, and clad herself in a rich mantle that reached even to the ground,

left her throat and her fair neck bare, and was bordered and lined with costly furs. On her head she wore no

golden circlet, but a network of precious stones, that gleamed and shone through her tresses in clusters of

twenty together. Thus she came into the chamber, closed the door after her, and set open a window, and

Sir Gawain was deep in slumber, and in his dream he vexed him much for the destiny that should befall him

on the morrow, when he should meet the knight at the Green Chapel, and abide his blow; but when the lady

spake he heard her, and came to himself, and roused from his dream and answered swiftly. The lady came

laughing, and kissed him courteously, and he welcomed her fittingly with a cheerful countenance. He saw her

so glorious and gaily dressed, so faultless of features and complexion, that it warmed his heart to look upon

They spake to each other smiling, and all was bliss and good cheer between them. They exchanged fair

words, and much happiness was therein, yet was there a gulf between them, and she might win no more of

her knight, for that gallant prince watched well his wordshe would neither take her love, nor frankly refuse

it. He cared for his courtesy, lest he be deemed churlish, and yet more for his honour lest he be traitor to his

host. "God forbid," quoth he to himself, "that it should so befall." Thus with courteous words did he set aside

Then spake the lady to the knight, "Ye deserve blame if ye hold not that lady who sits beside ye above all else

in the world, if ye have not already a love whom ye hold dearer, and like better, and have sworn such firm

faith to that lady that ye care not to loose itand that am I now fain to believe. And now I pray ye straitly

And the knight answered, "By S. John", (and he smiled as he spake) "no such love have I, nor do I think to

"That is the worst word I may hear," quoth the lady, "but in sooth I have mine answer; kiss me now

Sighing, she stooped down and kissed him, and then she rose up and spake as she stood, "Now, dear, at our

parting do me this grace: give me some gift, if it were but thy glove, that I may bethink me of my knight, and

"Now, I wis," quoth the knight, "I would that I had here the most precious thing that I possess on earth that I

might leave ye as lovetoken, great or small, for ye have deserved forsooth more reward than I might give ye.

But it is not to your honour to have at this time a glove for reward as gift from Gawain, and I am here on a

strange errand, and have no man with me, nor mails with goodly thingsthat mislikes me much, lady, at this

"Nay, knight highly honoured," quoth that lovesome lady, "though I have naught of yours, yet shall ye have

somewhat of mine." With that she reached him a ring of red gold with a sparkling stone therein, that shone

even as the sun (wit ye well, it was worth many marks); but the knight refused it, and spake readily,

"I will take no gift, lady, at this time. I have none to give, and none will I take."

She prayed him to take it, but he refused her prayer, and sware in sooth that he would not have it.

The lady was sorely vexed, and said, "If ye refuse my ring as too costly, that ye will not be so highly

beholden to me, I will give you my girdle as a lesser gift." With that she loosened a lace that was fastened at

her side, knit upon her kirtle under her mantle. It was wrought of green silk, and gold, only braided by the

fingers, and that she offered to the knight, and besought him though it were of little worth that he would take

it, and he said nay, he would touch neither gold nor gear ere God give him grace to achieve the adventure for

which he had come hither. "And therefore, I pray ye, displease ye not, and ask me no longer, for I may not

grant it. I am dearly beholden to ye for the favour ye have shown me, and ever, in heat and cold, will I be

"Now," said the lady, "ye refuse this silk, for it is simple in itself, and so it seems, indeed; lo, it is small to

look upon and less in cost, but whoso knew the virtue that is knit therein he would, peradventure, value it

more highly. For whatever knight is girded with this green lace, while he bears it knotted about him there is

no man under heaven can overcome him, for he may not be slain for any magic on earth."

Then Gawain bethought him, and it came into his heart that this were a jewel for the jeopardy that awaited

him when he came to the Green Chapel to seek the return blowcould he so order it that he should escape

unslain, 'twere a craft worth trying. Then he bare with her chiding, and let her say her say, and she pressed the

girdle on him and prayed him to take it, and he granted her prayer, and she gave it him with good will, and

besought him for her sake never to reveal it but to hide it loyally from her lord; and the knight agreed that

never should any man know it, save they two alone. He thanked her often and heartily, and she kissed him for

Then she took her leave of him, and when she was gone Sir Gawain arose, and clad him in rich attire, and

took the girdle, and knotted it round him, and it beneath his robes. Then he took his way to the chapel, and

sought out a priest privily and prayed him to teach him better how his soul might be saved when he should go

hence; and there he shrived him, and showed his misdeeds, both great and small, and besought mercy and

craved absolution; and the priest assoiled him, and set him as clean as if Doomsday had been on the morrow.

And afterwards Sir Gawain made him merry with the ladies, with carols, and all kinds of joy, as never he did

but that one day, even to nightfall; and all the men marvelled at him, and said that never since he came thither

Meanwhile the lord of the castle was abroad chasing the fox; awhile he lost him, and as he rode through a

spinny he heard the hounds near at hand, and Reynard came creeping through a thick grove, with all the pack

at his heels. Then the lord drew out his shining brand, and cast it at the beast, and the fox swerved aside for

the sharp edge, and would have doubled back, but a hound was on him ere he might turn, and right before the

horse's feet they all fell on him, and worried him fiercely, snarling the while.

Then the lord leapt from his saddle, and caught the fox from the jaws, and held it aloft over his head, and

hallooed loudly, and many brave hounds bayed as they beheld it; and the hunters hied them thither, blowing

their horns; all that bare bugles blew them at once, and all the others shouted. 'Twas the merriest meeting that

ever men heard, the clamour that was raised at the death of the fox. They rewarded the hounds, stroking them

and rubbing their heads, and took Reynard and stripped him of his coat; then blowing their horns, they turned

The lord was gladsome at his return, and found a bright fire on the hearth, and the knight beside it, the good

Sir Gawain, who was in joyous mood for the pleasure he had had with the ladies. He wore a robe of blue, that

reached even to the ground, and a surcoat richly furred, that became him well. A hood like to the surcoat fell

on his shoulders, and all alike were done about with fur. He met the host in the midst of the floor, and jesting,

he greeted him, and said, "Now shall I be first to fulfil our covenant which we made together when there was

no lack of wine." Then he embraced the knight, and kissed him thrice, as solemnly as he might.

"Of a sooth," quoth the other, "ye have good luck in the matter of this covenant, if ye made a good

"Yea, it matters naught of the exchange," quoth Gawain, "since what I owe is swiftly paid."

"Marry," said the other, "mine is behind, for I have hunted all this day, and naught have I got but this foul

foxskin, and that is but poor payment for three such kisses as ye have here given me."

With mirth and minstrelsy, and dainties at their will, they made them as merry as a folk well might till 'twas

time for them to sever, for at last they must needs betake them to their beds. Then the knight took his leave of

"For the fair sojourn that I have had here at this high feast may the High King give ye honour. I give ye

myself, as one of your servants, if ye so like; for I must needs, as you know, go hence with the morn, and ye

will give me, as ye promised, a guide to show me the way to the Green Chapel, an God will suffer me on

"By my faith," quoth the host, "all that ever I promised, that shall I keep with good will." Then he gave him a

servant to set him in the way, and lead him by the downs, that he should have no need to ford the stream, and

should fare by the shortest road through the groves; and Gawain thanked the lord for the honour done him.

Then he would take leave of the ladies, and courteously he kissed them, and spake, praying them to receive

his thanks, and they made like reply; then with many sighs they commended him to Christ, and he departed

courteously from that folk. Each man that he met he thanked him for his service and his solace, and the pains

he had been at to do his will; and each found it as hard to part from the knight as if he had ever dwelt with

Then they led him with torches to his chamber, and brought him to his bed to rest. That he slept soundly I

may not say, for the morrow gave him much to think on. Let him rest awhile, for he was near that which he

sought, and if ye will but listen to me I will tell ye how it fared with him thereafter.

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

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

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

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 goodday, 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 sunrising. Then were they on a high hill; the snow lay white beside them, and

"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 illpleased. "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,

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.

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: illluck betide it, 'tis the cursedest kirk that

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 millwheel

"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

"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

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

"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

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

"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 memy 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

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, swiftfoot, 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

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 fearlesslyat 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 ithold

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 kissesfor

both those days I gave thee two blows without scathetrue 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 lifetherefore 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

"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 sorrowif 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

"That will I truly," quoth the other. "Bernlak de Hautdesert am I called in this land. Morgain le Fay dwelleth

in mine house, 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 halfsister, 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

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

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 faultand thus he

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 himthe adventure of the chapel,

the fashion of the knight, the love of the ladyat 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

"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. 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