Arthurian Romances

by Chretien de Troyes

  My lord Gawain listened to everything the haughty damsel told him without giving a single word in reply; he just handed over her palfrey to her and she let him have his horse. My lord Gawain leaned over, intending to pick up her mantle and help her put it on, but the damsel glared at him, unafraid and quick to insult a knight.

  ‘Vassal,’ she said, ‘what business do you have with my mantle or wimple? By God, I’m not half as naïve as you think. I have absolutely no desire for you to undertake to serve me, for your hands are not clean enough to hold anything I’d wear or put around my head. Would you dare touch anything destined for my eyes or mouth, or for my forehead or face? May God never honour me again if I ever exhibit even the least desire to accept your service.’

  So the maiden mounted, after putting on her clothes and lacing them herself, and said: ‘Now, knight, go wherever you wish and I’ll follow along closely until I see you humiliated on my account; and, God willing, that shall be today.’

  My lord Gawain held his peace and did not reply a single word. Shamefaced he mounted, and off they set; he turned back, with his head hung low, towards the oak tree where he had left the maiden and the knight who was in great need of a doctor to heal his wounds. And my lord Gawain knew more about healing wounds than anyone. In a hedgerow he saw a herb that was excellent for relieving the pain of wounds, and he went to pick it. After picking the herb, he rode back until he again found the maiden weeping beneath the oak tree; and she told him as soon as she saw him: ‘My noble lord, I fear that this knight is dead, for he can no longer hear anything.’

  My lord Gawain dismounted and found that his pulse was steady and that his mouth and cheeks were still warm.

  ‘Good maiden,’ he said, ‘this knight is alive, you can be certain of it, for he has a steady pulse and is breathing well. And if his wounds are not fatal, I’ve brought him a herb which, I believe, will be of much help to him and will relieve some of the pain from his injuries as soon as he feels it. One cannot place a better herb upon a wound, for according to the book its strength is such that if it is placed on the bark of a tree that’s been damaged, as long as it has not withered completely, the roots will grow again and the tree will once more be able to leaf out and flower. My lady, your friend will be in no danger of dying once this herb is placed upon his wounds and bound tightly. But I’ll need a clean wimple to make a bandage.’

  ‘I’ll give you one immediately,’ she said, heartened by his words, ‘this very one I’m wearing on my head, for I’ve brought no other with me here.’

  She removed the clean, white wimple from her head, and my lord Gawain cut it into strips, for this was the proper procedure, and used it to bind the herb he possessed over all the knight’s wounds; and the maiden helped him as best she knew how.

  My lord Gawain did not move until the knight sighed and spoke these words: ‘May God watch over the one who restored my speech, for I was in great fear of dying without confession. The devils had come in procession to seek my soul. Before my body is buried I dearly wish to confess my sins. If I had something to mount, I know a nearby chaplain to whom I’d go to tell all my sins in confession and take communion; I would no longer fear death once I’d made my confession and received communion. But please do me this favour now, if it is not too much trouble: give me the nag that squire is on, who’s trotting along in this direction.’

  When my lord Gawain heard this, he turned and saw a hideous squire approaching. What was he like? I’ll tell you: his hair was tangled and red, bristly and sticking straight up like the spines of an enraged boar: his eyebrows were the same, and they covered his nose and all his face down to his moustache, which was twisted and long. He had a harelip and broad beard, forked and then curled, a short neck and high chest.

  My lord Gawain was eager to go to him to find out whether he could have his nag, but first he said to the knight: ‘My lord, so help me God, I don’t know who the squire is. I’d rather give you seven chargers, if I had them here with me, than his poor horse, such as it is.’

  ‘My lord,’ he replied, ‘rest assured that he is seeking nothing so much as to harm you, if he can.’

  And my lord Gawain moved towards the approaching squire and asked him where he was going. The uncouth squire said to him: ‘Vassal, what’s it to you where I’m going or where I’m coming from? Whatever road I’m taking, a curse upon you!’

  My lord Gawain immediately gave him his just deserts: he struck him with open palm, and since he was wearing gauntlets and struck him purposefully, he toppled him from his saddle. And when he tried to stand back up, he stumbled and fell down again, and fainted seven or more times in less space – and this is no joke – than the length of a pinewood lance.

  When he finally regained his feet, he said: ‘Vassal, you struck me!’

  ‘Indeed I did,’ replied my lord Gawain, ‘but I didn’t hurt you much; yet, as God is my witness, I’m sorry that I struck you – but you did speak rudely!’

  ‘Now I won’t stop until I tell you how I intend to repay you; you’ll lose the hand and arm with which you gave me that blow, for it will never be forgiven!’

  In the meantime the wounded knight, recovered somewhat from his great weakness, began to speak and said to my lord Gawain: ‘Let this squire be, dear sir, for you’ll never hear him say a word to your honour. Leave him, it’s for the best; but first bring me his nag, then take this maiden you see here beside me; steady her palfrey and help her mount, for I no longer wish to remain here. If I can, I’ll mount this nag and then look for someone to whom I can confess my sins, for I don’t intend to stop until I receive the last rites, confess my sins, and take communion.’

  My lord Gawain seized the nag at once and handed its reins to the knight, who had regained his sight; he looked at my lord Gawain and recognized him for the first time. My lord Gawain took the damsel and placed her courteously and graciously upon the Norwegian palfrey. While he was helping her to her saddle, the knight took my lord Gawain’s horse and mounted, and began to make it prance all around.

  My lord Gawain looked up and saw him galloping across the hillside; he was astounded and began to laugh, and with good humour said to him: ‘Sir knight, upon my word, it’s very foolish of you to make my horse leap about like that. Dismount and give it to me, for you could easily hurt yourself and cause your wounds to reopen.’

  And he answered: ‘Hold your tongue, Gawain! You’d be wise to take the nag, for you’ve lost your charger. I made him prance to test him out, and now I’ll take him as my own.’

  ‘Hey! I came here to help you, and you would harm me in return? Don’t take my horse, for that would be treachery!’

  ‘Gawain, whatever might happen to me, I don’t regret this act; I’d like to rip your heart from your belly with my own two hands.’

  ‘This reminds me of a proverb,’ said my lord Gawain, ‘which states: “Stick out your neck for someone and he’ll break it”. I really would like to know why you want to rip out my heart and why you’ve taken my horse, for I never sought to do you harm, nor have I ever in all my life. I don’t believe I’ve done anything to deserve this; I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.’

  ‘You have, Gawain; you saw me when you brought me great dishonour. Don’t you recall the knight you tormented so and forced against his will to eat for a month with the hounds, his hands tied behind his back? Know that you acted foolishly, for now it will bring you disgrace.’

  ‘Then are you Greoreas, who took the damsel by force and did with her what you would? Yet you knew perfectly well that maidens are protected in King Arthur’s land. The king has given them safe-conduct, and watches over and protects them. No, I don’t think and refuse to believe that this is why you hate me and seek to do me ill, for I acted in accord with the law that is established and set throughout the kingdom.’

  ‘Gawain, you punished me on that occasion, I remember it well; so now you must suffer what I choose to do: I’ll ride off on Gringalet, it’s the best vengeance I can have now
. You must trade him for the nag of the squire whom you struck down, for you’ll get nothing else in exchange.’

  At that Greoreas left him and set off after his sweetheart, who was riding rapidly away, and he followed her at full speed. Then the malevolent maiden laughed and said to my lord Gawain:

  ‘Vassal, vassal, what will you do? After what’s happened one can truly say that a few fools flourish still! I’m perfectly aware that it’s wrong of me to follow you, so help me God, but wherever you turn I’ll gladly follow. I just wish that nag you took from the squire were a mare! You know why I wish that? Because it would be even more disgraceful.’

  Immediately my lord Gawain mounted the ridiculous trotting nag, for he had no better option. The nag was an extremely ugly beast: it had a thin neck, an outsized head with long floppy ears, and it was so long in the tooth that they kept one lip from closing to within two fingers’ breadth of the other. Its eyes were weak and poor, its feet eaten away, and its thin flanks were all cut up by spurs. The nag was scrawny and long, with a thin crupper and distended spine. The reins and headstall of its bridle were of frayed rope; the saddle had no blanket pad and was far from new; the stirrups were so short and weak that Gawain did not dare use them.

  ‘Ha! Things are indeed going well!’ said the spiteful maiden. ‘Now I’ll be delighted and happy to go wherever you wish, because it is quite right and proper now that I should follow after you for a week or two, or three weeks or a month! Now that you’re so well equipped and seated on such a fine horse you really look like a knight who should be escorting a maiden! So the first thing I want is to amuse myself by observing your misfortunes: try spurring your nag a bit to see how it goes! But don’t be frightened, he’s awfully swift and spirited! I’ll follow you, for it is agreed that I’ll never quit you until you are truly disgraced, and there is no way you can avoid it now.’

  But he replied: ‘Good friend, you may say what you please, though it isn’t proper for a girl to be so evil-tongued beyond the age of ten. On the contrary, she should be polite, courteous, and well-mannered.’

  ‘Unfortunate knight, I have no interest in any lessons from you! Ride on and hold your tongue, for now you’re exactly the way I wanted to see you.’

  So they rode on until evening, but neither of them said anything more. Gawain rode on, with the maiden following, and no matter how hard he tried he could not discover how to get his nag to run or gallop. Like it or not, it just walked along, for if he even touched it with his spurs it gave him a dreadful ride, jostling his insides so much that in the end he could not bear for it to go faster than a walk. So he rode upon the nag through lonely and uninhabited forests until he came to a flat plain crossed by a deep river, which was so wide that no stone could be shot across it by mangonel or catapult, and no bolt by any crossbow. On the other side of the water sat a very well designed, very strong, and very splendid castle. There is no reason for me to lie about it: the castle sat upon a cliff and was so well fortified that no finer fortress was ever beheld by eye of mortal man; and upon a bare rock was set a great hall entirely of dark marble. There were a good five hundred open windows in the great hall, and a hundred of them were filled with ladies and damsels gazing out into the meadows and flowering orchards in front of them. Most of the damsels were wearing clothes of samite, and most had donned tunics of many hues and silken robes with golden threads. The maidens stood thus at the windows, and those outside could see them from the waist up, with their lustrous hair and elegant bodies.

  And the evilest creature in the world, who was directing my lord Gawain, came straight to the riverbank, then stopped and dismounted from her little dappled palfrey. On the shore she found a boat chained to a stone mooring and locked with a key. In the boat was an oar and upon the mooring was the key that locked the boat. The damsel, who had an evil heart within her breast, boarded the boat, followed by her palfrey which had done this many times before.

  ‘Vassal,’ she said, ‘dismount and come aboard after me with your nag that’s thinner than a chick; then pull up the ship’s anchor, for you’ll soon be in a real dilemma if you don’t cross over this water quickly, or get away at once.’

  ‘Tell me, damsel, why is that?’

  ‘Don’t you see what I see, sir knight? If you saw it, you’d flee at once.’

  My lord Gawain immediately turned his head, saw a knight coming across the clearing in full armour, and asked the maiden: ‘Now, if you don’t mind, tell me who that is, seated upon my own horse that was stolen from me by the traitor whose wounds I healed this morning?’

  ‘By Saint Martin, I’ll tell you,’ said the maiden gaily, ‘but you can be sure that nothing would make me tell you if I saw it could help you at all. But since I am sure he comes to do you ill, I’ll not hide his identity from you: he is the nephew of Greoreas, sent here by him to follow you. And I’ll tell you why, since you’ve asked me: his uncle has ordered him to pursue you until he’s killed you and brought him back your head. This is why I urge you to dismount unless you want to wait and be killed. Climb aboard and escape.’

  ‘I’d surely never flee because of him, damsel. No, I’ll wait for him here.’

  ‘I shall certainly not try to stop you,’ said the damsel. ‘I’ll hold my peace, because you’ll put on a fine show before all those comely and attractive maidens leaning out of those windows over there. Your presence makes the game more exciting and they’ve come here on your account. You can imagine how happy they’ll be when they see you stumble! You look just like a gallant knight ready to joust with another.’

  ‘Whatever it might cost me, maiden, I’ll never flinch, but will go straight to meet him because I should be most happy if I could recover my horse.’

  Then he headed for the clearing and turned his nag’s head towards the knight who was spurring across the sands. My lord Gawain awaited him, and thrust his feet so forcefully into the stirrups that he broke the left one clean off; so he abandoned the right one and awaited the knight just as he was, for the nag refused to budge: no matter how hard he spurred, he could not get it to move.

  ‘Alas!’ he said. ‘A nag is a poor mount for a knight when he wants to joust!’

  Meanwhile the other knight charged directly towards him on his surefooted steed and struck him such a blow with his lance that it bent, then shattered to pieces, leaving the point in Gawain’s shield. And my lord Gawain struck the upper edge of his shield, hitting it so hard that his lance passed through the shield and hauberk, upending him on to the fine sand. Then my lord Gawain reached out, took hold of his horse, and leapt into the saddle. This good fortune delighted him: his heart was so filled with joy that never in his life had he been so encouraged by one such success. He returned to the maiden, who had got into the boat, but he did not find either her or the boat. He was most displeased to have lost track of her, for he did not know what had become of her.

  While Gawain was still thinking about the maiden, he saw a punt heading towards him from the direction of the castle, piloted by a boatman; when he reached the shore, the boatman said: ‘Sir, I bring you greetings from those damsels, and they also urge you not to keep what belongs to me; return it to me, if you please.’

  Gawain answered: ‘May God bless the whole company of damsels and yourself as well. I will never be the cause of your losing anything to which you have a rightful claim: I have no desire to wrong you. But what property are you requesting of me?’

  ‘Sir, I have seen you defeat a knight whose charger I am entitled to have. If you don’t wish to wrong me, you must return the horse to me.’

  ‘Friend,’ Gawain replied, ‘I’d be most reluctant to turn over this property to you, for then I’d have to proceed on foot.’

  ‘What, sir knight! Then these damsels you see will assume you to be very disloyal and will consider it most wicked of you not to return to me my property. It has never happened, nor is there any account of an occasion, that I did not get the horse of any knight defeated at this port if I knew of his defeat or
, if I didn’t have the horse, that I ever failed to get the defeated knight.’

  My lord Gawain said to him: ‘Friend, you are free to take the knight and have him for yourself.’

  ‘Upon my word,’ said the boatman, ‘he’s not that badly injured. I think even you would have a hard time capturing him if he decided to resist you. But anyway, if you’re man enough, go and capture him and bring him to me, and your debt to me will be paid.’

  ‘Friend, if I dismount, can I trust you to keep my horse faithfully for me?’

  ‘Yes, certainly,’ he replied. ‘I’ll keep it in trust and willingly return it to you, for I’ll never wrong you in anything as long as I live – this I pledge and swear to you.’

  ‘And I,’ said Gawain, ‘believe you on your pledge and oath.’

  Immediately he climbed down from his horse and gave it to the boatman, who took it and said he would watch it faithfully. My lord Gawain set off with sword drawn towards his enemy who was at the end of his strength, for he had been deeply wounded in his side and had lost a lot of blood. My lord Gawain advanced on him.

  ‘Sir, there’s no need to hide it from you,’ said the grievously injured man, ‘I’m so badly wounded that I cannot bear any more. I’ve lost a great measure of blood and surrender to your mercy.’

  ‘Now get up from there,’ said Gawain.

  With great difficulty he stood up and my lord Gawain took him to the boatman, who thanked him. And my lord Gawain begged him, if he had any news of the maiden whom he had been escorting there, to tell him which direction she had taken.

  He said: ‘Sir, don’t concern yourself with the maiden or where she went, for she’s not a maiden: she’s worse than Satan, for she has had many a knight’s head chopped off at this port. But if you’ll heed my advice, you’ll come to my house this day and accept such lodgings as I can provide. It would not be to your advantage to linger upon this shore, for this is a wild land full of great wonders.’