Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

by Michael Morpurgo

  Now Gawain had to reply with all the skill and tact he could command, for he had to put her off without displeasing her, and that was not going to be easy. “Fair lady,” he began, “just to have you near me, and to look at you, is enough. But as for the sport of love, I think you’re much more skilled in that than I am. In that regard I’m just a clumsy knight, but I am a knight all the same, who must live in honor or die in shame. Having my honor always in mind, I will do all I can to please you.”

  Still she stayed and tried to tempt him more, and again he resisted — but it was hard. In time, though, it became a game between them, a sport they both enjoyed, and at the end of it, neither was the winner. But there was no loser either, so they could both be happy. They parted in friendship and love — and with a kiss so long and languorous that for several minutes after the lady had left, Gawain’s head was still spinning.

  He took his time getting up, for there was no hurry. Afterward he went straight to Mass and prayed for God to give him strength to resist the lady, and also strength to face up to the trial he knew he must soon endure in the Green Chapel. All day long, this fateful confrontation was in the back of his mind, but fortunately there were plenty of pleasant distractions to occupy him — particularly the ladies of the castle, who again did all they could to entertain him. Even that wizened old crone gave him a smile. Not a pretty smile, it’s true, but a smile all the same.

  While Gawain luxuriated in all these creature comforts and delights the lord of the castle was still out chasing his fearsome boar. Over hills and dales, the hounds and huntsmen chased that beast. Yet strong though the boar was, he tired at last and knew his legs could carry him no farther. On the banks of the rushing stream he made his last stand. Setting his back in a cleft in the rocks, he dared them to come on. Foaming at his mouth and snorting his defiance, he faced them, pawing the earth in his fury and tearing at the ground with his terrible tusks. On the other side of the stream, the huntsmen hesitated. They whooped and hallooed at the bloodhounds to keep them at their task, but like their masters, none had the strength or courage to close and make the kill.

  Only the lord himself dared try to finish it. Dismounting from his horse, he drew his great sword, and striding through the stream, he ran at the beast, who had only one thought in his mind — to hook his tusks into this man’s body and kill him before he was killed himself. Out he charged, head and tusks lowered. Sheer speed and power took the lord by surprise. Hitting him with all his force full in the chest, the beast caught the lord off balance and sent him sprawling so that the two of them tumbled backward together into the stream. Luckily for the lord, the tusks had not dug too deep into his flesh but only gashed him slantingly. Luckily too for him, but not for the boar, the beast had charged onto the point of the sword, which passed clean through his heart, killing him at once.

  As the boar was swept away downstream, his teeth still bared with the fury of his last charge, the huntsmen came to their lord’s aid. Dazed and bleeding, he was nearly drowning when they dragged him out. It took a while for them to retrieve the boar, for the stream was fast and had carried him far, and, the beast being even heavier now in death, it took a dozen strong men to haul him up onto the bank. Lord and huntsmen gazed down at their quarry and shook their heads in wonder, for this was truly a giant among boars. Dead though he was, the whining bloodhounds would not go near him even now, still fearful perhaps that the beast might rise phantomlike to his feet and come after them once again.

  Back at the castle, dallying contentedly on cushions before the fire, Gawain and the ladies heard at last the sound of the hunt returning, the hunting horns resounding in triumph as the huntsmen rode laughing into the courtyard. They knew the hunt had been successful, but none could have imagined what they were about to see. When the lord, blood-spattered and mud-spattered, came striding into the hall, that was alarming enough. Then they saw the servants behind him come staggering in carrying between them, dangling from a pole, the most gruesome sight they had ever seen — a bristling monster of a boar. He looked so evil and ferocious even in death that many ladies there had to look away, fearing this ghastly creature might be some incarnation of the devil himself.

  “Here you are, Gawain, my friend,” said the lord, beaming proudly. “He’s yours, my gift to you, as I promised you. Is he big enough for you? Have we done well?” Gawain walked all around the great beast, marveling at it.

  “What a splendid creature!” he breathed. “And what a huntsman you must be. But there’s blood on you, my lord. Are you hurt?”

  “Just a scratch,” said the lord of the castle. “I was lucky. It could have been a lot worse.” And smiling, he went on, “And how about you, Gawain? Were you lucky today? What have you got to give me in return for this magnificent beast?”

  “Not a lot,” Gawain replied. “Just this.” And, laughing, he stepped forward and kissed the lord twice, once on each cheek. “That’s it, I promise you,” Gawain shrugged. “And to be honest, my lord, I’m glad it wasn’t more, because as much as I like you, I really don’t like kissing men with great bristly beards!” At that the two friends laughed out loud, as did everyone else in that great hall, except for the unfortunate boar, of course.

  All evening the laughter went on: as the boar’s head was brought in at dinner, an apple in his gaping mouth; and as they drank and danced and sang the night away. But fun though it was, Gawain could not enjoy himself fully, for with the lady of the castle constantly at his side and making eyes at him he had always to be on his guard. She doted on him so openly, so obviously, that Gawain thought it must surely soon offend the lord of the castle. But much to Gawain’s relief, the lord seemed not to notice at all what was going on. He was wrapped all the while in conversation with the hideous old hag, who even as she was talking to him, still eyed Gawain, smiling toothily at him, as if she knew something that Gawain didn’t. Gawain found them both, hideous hag and lovely lady, unnerving and deeply unsettling.

  Although Gawain managed politely to keep that lovely lady at bay all evening, he could feel those pleading eyes slowly weakening his will to resist. He made up his mind to leave the castle the next morning and be on his way before he did something he would regret. He stood up. “Dear friends,” he said, “I do not want to break the spirit of this feast, but I have stayed long enough and really think I should be off tomorrow morning.”

  “Nonsense!” cried the lord. “You shall do no such thing. I’ve told you, my friend, the Green Chapel you seek is only a few miles away. You can stay all day tomorrow, leave the following morning, and easily be on time for your meeting at the Green Chapel. I shall be very hurt if you leave us before you need to. So will my wife and everyone here, too.”

  There was such a clamoring for him to stay that Gawain knew he could not refuse them. “I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings — and certainly not yours, my lord,” Gawain said, “not after all you have done for me. So I shall stay as you command me.”

  “A wonderfully wise decision, Gawain,” said the lord, “and all the better because it will give us another chance to play our game one last time, won’t it? I’m off hunting first thing tomorrow as usual, so you can stay here and enjoy yourself as you will. When I get back in the evening, we shall see what I have for you and you have for me. And Gawain, my friend, all I’ve had from you so far in this game is kisses. How about something different for a change?”

  “I’ll do my best,” replied Gawain. But although he was laughing with everyone else, he was not at all happy to be playing the game again. He knew the risks that came with it.

  “And now to bed,” said the lord, yawning hugely. “I shall sleep like a log tonight.”

  So off they all went to bed, the servants lighting their way upstairs. The lord did sleep soundly, but for most of the night, Gawain hardly closed his eyes at all. He lay there troubled mightily by all the trials and temptations he knew the next day would bring, and fell into a heavy sleep at last just as dawn was breaking. He heard nothi
ng of the hunt gathering in the courtyard below his window, nothing of the yelping of impatient foxhounds, or the snorting and stamping of horses eager to be gone. Gawain slept through it all.

  The lord of the castle, refreshed from his night’s sleep, rode hard across the fields, his huntsmen and hounds behind him. And what a beautiful morning it was too, with the clouds above them and the ground beneath them rose pink with the rising sun. But the fox cared little about that, for he had already heard the dreadful baying of foxhounds hot on the scent, and wanted only to put as much distance between them and himself as he could. The fox was fast too, faster than any hound and he knew it, but he also knew they were stronger than he was, that hounds did not tire as he would. Speed might help him, but only his cunning could save him. So he darted this way and that to bewilder them, weaving and doubling back on himself in amongst the rocks, fording as many streams as he could find, all to outwit the hounds and put them off the scent. Time and again he thought he had escaped them, but the hounds were not so easily fooled, and with so many noses to the ground, they soon picked up his scent again and gave voice to tell him so.

  As he slowed, they came on still faster, all in a pack, the huntsmen sounding their horns and hallooing loud so that the valleys rang with the song of the hunt, a song no wild creature ever wants to hear, the poor fox least of all. On he ran, his heart bursting, desperate to escape, to find some bolthole to hide where the hounds would not find him. But he was out on the open plain now, where there was nowhere to hide. All he could do was run. Catch me they may, thought the fox, but at least I’ll lead them a merry dance before they do.

  Gawain slept late that morning. He was deep in dreams when he felt a sudden shaft of brightness falling across his face. The lady of the castle came out of the sunlight, out of his dreams, it seemed, toward the bed, smiling as she came. “What? Still asleep, sleepyhead?” she laughed gaily. “It’s a lovely morning out there. But, to be honest, I’d far rather be in here with you.”

  Still trying to work out whether he was dreaming or not, Gawain saw that she was not wearing the same nightgown as before but a robe of finest shimmering silk, white as cherry blossoms and trimmed with ermine. She wore dazzling jewels in her hair and around her neck. She had never looked more beautiful. This time there was no preliminary banter whatsoever. She came straight to him as he lay there and kissed him at once on the lips. Now Gawain knew he really was awake. Her kiss was so inviting, so tantalizingly tender. “Oh, Gawain,” she breathed, “forget you are a knight just this once. Forget your chivalry and your honor.”

  It was lucky for Gawain that she had reminded him at that moment of his knightly virtues. “Dear lady,” he said, desperately trying to rein himself in. “You have a gentle lord as a husband, who has shown me nothing but the greatest hospitality and friendship. I would not and I will not ever cheat him or dishonor him. We can talk of love all you want, lady, but that is all.”

  “It is not talk I want,” the lovely lady protested. “Let this opportunity pass, Gawain, and you will regret it forever. Or is it perhaps that there is someone you already love more than me, someone you are promised to? Tell me the truth, Gawain.”

  “No, fair lady, I am promised to no one. And the truth is that although I have never in my life known anyone fairer than you, I do not want to promise myself to anyone just yet, not even you.”

  At this she moved away from him, shaking her head sadly. “How I wish you had not said that, dear Gawain,” she sighed. “That’s the trouble with truth — it cuts so deeply. But I asked for it, so I mustn’t complain. I see now that I cannot hope to alter your mind or your heart. But couldn’t you, in knightly courtesy, and still protecting your honor, couldn’t you at least give me one last kiss? As friends?”

  “Why not?” replied Gawain. “After all, a kiss is just a kiss.” And she leaned over him and kissed him so gently, so softly, so sweetly, that Gawain very nearly forgot himself again.

  “One last thing,” she said, getting off the bed. “Will you let me have something of yours to take away with me, to remember you by, a token of some kind, a glove perhaps?”

  “But I have brought nothing worthy enough to give you, dear lady,” Gawain replied. “I wish I had, but I cannot give you just a dirty old glove. A lady like you deserves only the best, and I would far rather give you nothing at all than something unsuitable or insulting. Why don’t we instead simply treasure the memories we have of one another? I shall not forget you, fair lady, I promise you that.”

  “Nor I you,” replied the lady. “But all the same, it would please me so much if you would accept this memento of our time together.” And taking a ruby ring off her finger, she offered it to him.

  “I cannot take this, sweet lady,” said Gawain, although he was touched to the heart by the generosity of this gesture. “If I can’t give you a gift, then I must not accept one, and certainly not one as precious and valuable as this.” She tried again and again to persuade him to take it, but he refused her every time, politely but firmly.

  She wasn’t finished yet, though. “All right then,” she said at last, “if you won’t take this, then will you instead accept something more simple, perhaps, something that has no real value at all but will remind you of me whenever you see it? Please, Gawain, it is only a little thing.” With that she took from around her hips a wonderful belt of green silk richly embroidered in gold. “Take this, dear Gawain,” she pleaded. “It’s not much, but I have always worn it close to me. So if you were to do the same, I should in some way always be close to you. Do it for my sake, to please me.”

  “Dear lady,” Gawain replied, “I do not want to upset you, believe me, or to part on bad terms. You call this a little thing, but yet it is a pretty thing, and I can see that it has been exquisitely crafted. It is still far too generous a gift when I have none for you in return.”

  “This is more than a pretty thing, you know,” the lady replied. “It was woven by an enchantress so that whoever wears this belt can never be killed, not by a witch’s cunning spells, or by a dragon’s raging fire, or by the strongest and most deadly knight in all the land. Wear this belt around you, Gawain, and you are truly safe from all dangers.”

  “All dangers?” Gawain asked her, pondering hard on everything she had just told him.

  “All dangers, I promise you,” said the lovely lady, dangling the belt before his eyes.

  This is too good to turn down, thought Gawain. If what she says is true, then I could wear this belt when I meet the Green Knight, and no matter what happens, I need not die. This belt would protect me.

  The offer was just too timely, too tempting. So at last he accepted the gift, taking it from her and thanking her from the bottom of his heart. “I will wear it always, and whenever I put it on, I promise I will think of you.”

  “Then I have won a little victory at last,” laughed the lady, clapping her hands in joy. “I am so happy. But I have one very last favor to ask you, Gawain. You won’t ever tell my lord and husband about this gift, will you? It might make him very jealous. It must be our secret, and our secret alone. Do you promise?”

  “I promise, fair lady,” Gawain replied. Although he did not feel at all comfortable about any of this, neither the gift nor the promise he had made, yet he did feel a lot easier in his mind about his encounter with the Green Knight the next morning.

  The lady of the castle gave him one last kiss, and left him clutching the belt tightly and relishing again the three sweet kisses she had given him that morning. It was midmorning by now, so hiding away the silken belt under his mattress, where he could find it later, Gawain dressed quickly. Then straightaway he went down to Mass, and afterward confessed all his sins — of which, as we know, there were more than usual that morning. So, freed of all cares now by both priest and belt, lucky Gawain was able to pass the rest of his day mingling with the ladies of the castle, who kept him more than happily occupied. He was so absorbed by the charm of their company that he scarcely gave a thought t
o what lay ahead of him the next day.

  Out on the plain, the poor old fox was not having such a happy time. He knew in his heart that his running days were over, but as every living creature will do in the struggle to survive, he tried his utmost to cling onto life as long as he could. Often he went to ground and lay there in the earthy darkness, his frantic heart pounding, hoping each time that the hounds would pass him by. But foxhounds carry their brains in their noses. No fox’s scent ever escapes them. Once discovered, the fox lay low in his den for a while as the hounds gathered outside, baying for his blood, scrabbling at the earth to dig him out.

  There are always many ways out of a fox’s den. Maybe he would find some unguarded exit and then make a run for it, bolting off as fast as his legs could carry him. But, weakened as he now was, he was not fast enough, and the hounds were running more strongly than ever as they closed in for the kill.

  Poor Reynard. He made it to one last earth, and as he lay there, he knew he could run no more. He had two choices: to wait there in terror only to be dug out and torn to pieces or to end it now and get it over with. His choice made, the brave old fox darted up the tunnel into the light, and there the lord of the castle was waiting, his sword at the ready to spear him through. So mercifully the fox found the speedy death he had sought. The huntsmen cheered wildly as the lord held the fox up high by his tail while the hounds howled at the lord to be given their prey. But the lord bellowed loud above their baleful baying. “Not for you, my friends,” he cried. “This one I shall keep for Gawain.” So instead of the meat and skin and bone they craved, he gave them laughingly a pat on the head, then mounted his horse again and rode home across the wide plain, the setting sun making long shadowy giants of men and horses and hounds alike.

  Once back in the castle the lord strode at once into the great hall, the fox limp in his arms. Straight up to Gawain he went. “He may not look like much to you,” he said, “but I can tell you, this cunning old fox led us a merry old dance all day long. So he’s all I’ve got to show for a whole day’s hunting, and he’s yours, of course, as I promised. I’m just hoping you did a lot better today. What is it you have for me? Something special I hope. All I’ve had so far is kisses.”