The Squire, His Knight, and His Lady

by Gerald Morris

  He looked at her gravely, started to shake his head, then said quietly, "I love you, Eileen."

  "I know," she said calmly. "I love you, too."

  Terence promptly burst into tears. Eileen walked to him, buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder, and let him stroke her hair while he wept. They stood that way for several minutes, until Terence pushed her to his arm's length, looked into her eyes, and said, "At least I'll still have you."

  "Always," she said and led him to a chair. She sat at his feet, silently watching his face. They were still there half an hour later when Gawain walked abruptly into the room, a bemused expression on his face. From his hand dangled a shining green sash.

  Terence stood, looking intently at his master's face. "Is she gone?" he asked.

  "Just one kiss, like before," Gawain said.

  "What do you have there, Gawain?" Eileen asked, indicating the green sash.

  "A girdle she gave me before she left," Gawain said. He held it up and studied it. "She says that so long as I wear this girdle, I can never be killed, by any hand whatsoever."

  It took Terence a second to grasp the full significance of this. "Then you're saved! Wear the girdle to the Green Chapel and let the cursed knight do his worst!"

  Eileen sank to her knees and breathed a prayer of thanksgiving while Terence repeated "You're saved!" with greater and greater animation. He lifted Eileen to her feet and hugged her joyously.

  "You're forgetting something," Gawain interrupted.

  "What?" Terence demanded.

  "My bargain with Sir Bercilak."

  "Gawain," Eileen said, "you're not thinking of giving up this belt now that you have it are you?"

  "That was the bargain."

  "Milord, it's just a stupid game! You won't give up your life just to be true to that dimwit Sir Bercilak!" Terence could not believe his ears.

  "Do not forget that he's our host, Terence," Gawain said reprovingly.

  "All right, that dimwit our host. Answer my question!"

  "Well, I'll admit that it does seem somewhat disproportionate." Gawain nodded. "It's hard to believe that Sir Bercilak would really ask me to give up my last chance. Perhaps I could give it to him, then ask for it back."

  "Don't be stupid, milord!" Terence snapped. "What if he knows this girdle? Do you think he'll return it once he knows his wife has been calling on you every morning in her invisible nightdress?"

  "I see your point," Gawain agreed reluctantly. "I hate to break my word to him, though."

  Eileen asked reasonably, "Which do you hate more: breaking your word or dying?"

  "I don't know. I've never done either."

  ***

  He had to choose one or the other, though, and in the end he chose to break his word. When Sir Bercilak returned from the hunt, proudly wielding the aromatic pelt of a large red fox, Gawain dutifully gave him a kiss but kept the magic girdle. Terence sighed with relief and spent the rest of the evening in a daze of blissful contentment. That night, the burden of a year lifted, he slept soundly and peacefully, dreaming of Eileen.

  IX. The Green Chapel

  The next day, Terence awoke long after sunrise, well rested and pleasantly aware of an overwhelming sense of well-being. After a moment he remembered why: Gawain would survive his meeting with the Green Knight, and Eileen loved him. He could imagine no greater happiness. He rolled out of bed and strolled into Gawain's room. Gawain was already up and was trying to lace on his armor.

  "Hallo, slug-a-bed," Gawain called. "If it's not too much bother, perhaps your worship would give me a bit of assistance here."

  Terence chuckled and began untying the loose knots that Gawain had tied. "I'll start by doing these right, if it's all the same with you."

  "Oh, ay. Do as you please. Don't want to inconvenience you, after all." Terence grinned absently and swiftly knotted a few laces. Gawain examined his battered armor and said, "I wish I'd let you work on this when you suggested it. I may need it today after all."

  "Whatever for?" Terence asked.

  "It's hard to tell how the Green Knight will take it, finding that he can't kill me. He didn't seem especially good-natured to me."

  Terence left his lacing for a moment and frowned. "You mean you may have to fight him?" He recalled unhappily the Green Knight's monstrous frame.

  "Now don't take on like that," Gawain said. "Believe me, the chance to fight is like a gift of God compared to what I was expecting."

  That was true, Terence admitted, but as he finished fastening Gawain's armor he felt a twinge of uneasiness that marred his perfect happiness. He was able to put his anxiety aside when they stepped into the sitting room, however, because Eileen was there. He and Eileen smiled a tender welcome to each other. Gawain noted their smiles with obvious amusement, but Terence did not care.

  Sir Bercilak bustled into the room, a broad smile lighting his face. "Sir Gawain! I have wonderful news for you!"

  "Have you?" Gawain answered.

  "I do indeed. When you first arrived, while you were still out on the east hill, I noticed you crossed yourself, and I said to myself, 'Bercilak, now there's a good Christian knight.'"

  "Oh no," Gawain disclaimed politely.

  "Yes, I did. I fancy few things go on around me that I don't notice." Terence met Eileen's quick, expressive glance. Gawain only bowed slightly. "So," Sir Bercilak continued, "I've been puzzling ever since you arrived how I was going to provide a mass for you to hear before going out, because I know that good Christian knights all hear mass before going questing. You see," he added apologetically, "I don't really have what you'd call a priest here all the time."

  "I thank you for the thought," Gawain said. "But I shall contrive to go on quest without hearing a mass this time." Terence chuckled inwardly at the relief in Gawain's voice.

  "Ah, but wait till you hear my news," Sir Bercilak beamed. "Last night, after we had all gone to bed, who do you think came to my gates? A priest! That's who! What do you think of that?"

  "How delightful," Gawain said.

  "Well, it's not quite all that you could hope. He says he's on a journey of penance himself, and he won't serve the mass."

  "What a pity." Gawain sighed.

  "But he says he'd be happy to hear your confession! What do you think of that?"

  "My confession?" Gawain repeated blankly.

  "It's a stroke of good fortune if ever I've heard one," Sir Bercilak continued blithely. "I know how real Christian knights like you like to have themselves all confessed up before going into battle. You wouldn't believe the time I had convincing this priest to hear your confession—him wanting to keep to himself—but I don't grudge the effort."

  "How can I say thank you?" Gawain said, shaking his head.

  Sir Bercilak chortled happily and said, "No need, no need. Happy to do it. But you'd best hurry. He's waiting for you outside right now."

  Sir Bercilak bustled out, and Gawain gazed wonderingly after him. "You were right, Terence. Dimwit."

  They filed downstairs to the courtyard, where Guingalet and Terence's horse were already saddled. Sir Bercilak had disappeared, but they had no trouble finding the priest. He sat on a shady bench by the stables, dressed in a monk's black robe and cowl. Gawain looked at him resignedly then said, "Wait here, Terence. I suppose I had better go talk to this priest—Bercilak having gone to so much trouble."

  Gawain walked over to the priest and sat beside him on the bench. For a minute Terence watched; then Gawain gestured to Terence. Puzzled, Terence crossed the busy yard to where they sat.

  "Here he is," Gawain said to the priest. The priest nodded and smiled at Terence. The top half of his face was shaded darkly by the cowl, but his smile was pleasant. Terence bowed.

  "Have you confidence in him?" the priest asked Gawain.

  "I would trust Terence with my life," Gawain said.

  "I do not mean confidence in his ability," the priest said. "Have you confidence in his fitness?"

  "Fitness for what?"


  "Fitness to go to the Green Chapel. There is no blemish that can be hidden in that place. To take an unworthy escort there is as foolish as to go there unworthy oneself."

  "I know no one so worthy as Terence—in any way."

  The priest looked again at Terence, nodded, then turned back to Gawain. "And yourself?"

  "Am I worthy?" Gawain asked. The priest nodded. "I fear I am not," Gawain said.

  "Do you speak sincerely? Or do you say that only because you believe a knight should always show modesty?"

  Gawain glanced at the priest sharply. He started to speak, then frowned and said, "In truth, you may be right. I may have spoken purely out of habit."

  "Modesty is not a bad habit, after all," the priest commented. "Although humility would be better. So, what have you to confess besides secret pride?"

  Gawain stared wordlessly at the priest. Terence wished he could leave, but found himself unable to interrupt to excuse himself. "It seems that my secret pride is not secret from you. Can you see right into my heart, I wonder?" Gawain asked.

  "I see no more than any man could see if he chose," the priest said. "Again, what else have you to confess?"

  "I ... I have not been a good Christian, Father."

  The priest snorted derisively. "And what the hell is that, I'd like to know?" Gawain's mouth opened again, and he blinked several times. "Well," pursued the priest, "what do you mean 'good Christian'?"

  "One who ... who lives a moral life, I suppose."

  "Don't be an ass," the priest said. "If that's all you have to say, you're wasting my time."

  "I'm sorry, Father," Gawain said. "I'm afraid that I don't know how to confess."

  "Then you must learn to be ashamed."

  "Ashamed of what?"

  "Find out," the priest said decisively. He stood abruptly and walked out of the courtyard and through the open gate. Gawain watched, frowning, until he was completely out of sight.

  Ten minutes later, having received directions to the Green Chapel, Terence and Gawain took their leave of Eileen and Lady Marion. Under his breath, he whispered to Eileen, "We'll be back."

  "I'll be waiting," she replied. Gawain thanked Lady Marion for her hospitality, charged her with his thanks to Sir Bercilak, then led the way out of the gate toward the Green Chapel.

  "You have that magic girdle, milord?" Terence asked after a minute.

  "Did you think I would forget it? It's beneath my armor."

  There seemed nothing more to say, and they rode in silence for several more minutes. Terence could not escape a growing uneasiness. They rode through a small stand of trees that grew along a brook, then stopped. Before them was a tiny hill, covered with grass that was far too lush and green for a winter day. The mound was hardly taller than they were on horseback, and it was perfectly round. Near the top, Terence saw the black opening of a cave, and he shivered involuntarily.

  A faint rasping sound came from nearby. Terence had taken care of armor far too long not to recognize it instantly: a whetstone.

  "So this is the Green Chapel," Gawain murmured. "An older sort of holy place than I had expected. Come on, Terence." They dismounted and walked around the hill, and there was the Green Knight. Even larger than Terence remembered, the knight sat on a small three-legged stool, hunched over a small whetstone, sharpening his axe.

  "I am here, sir knight," Gawain said.

  "Abide your time," the Green Knight said without looking up. "You'll receive everything I promised you." He tested the axe's edge with his finger, then ran it very gently along the whetstone one more time and stood, a satisfied look on his green visage. "It seems that your word holds good, my friend. You have come to my court on the correct day."

  "I said I would." Gawain bowed.

  "Well?" the knight said.

  "Well what?" Gawain replied curtly.

  "Take off your helm." The knight gestured at a wide stump, large enough for three men to lay their heads on. Gawain nodded and unlaced his helm, handing it to Terence. "And see you make no more demur than I did," the knight added.

  Gawain nodded again and knelt at the stump. He smiled cheerfully, which Terence thought was the saddest thing he had ever seen. Terence had to force himself to watch. A tiny muscle high on Gawain's cheekbone twitched, and Gawain clamped his jaw tight, still resolutely smiling. The Green Knight whistled tunelessly and set his feet. Then, still whistling, he lifted the axe high and brought it down.

  It never touched Gawain. At the last second, the Green Knight checked the blow so that it stopped inches from Gawain's neck. Gawain's shoulders quivered ever so slightly, and his smile faded.

  "You can't be the glorious Gawain!" the knight jeered. "They say that you've never drawn back from danger in your life, but I say they lie. It seems that I am the better man after all. I ask you, did I flinch like that when you struck me? Did I shrink like a coward away from the axe? Did I?"

  "You did not," Gawain said through clenched teeth. His face was flushed with anger, but he only laid his neck on the stump. He no longer smiled: his face wore an odd expression that Terence could not interpret. He nodded curtly to the Green Knight, as if to say "What are you waiting for?"

  The knight chuckled merrily and took his stance again. Again he lifted his axe, and again he swung mightily. This time he did not check the blow; the axe sank deep into the stump next to Gawain's motionless neck. Gawain sprang to his feet, fury in his face. "Ah, so you have your nerve again!" the Green Knight said mockingly. "Then let us finish this now, before it escapes you. I do hate to strike a coward. Shall we see if you can uphold the honor of Arthur's court one more time?" Gawain breathed raggedly, eyes flaming with suffused anger. He almost threw himself onto the stump for the third blow. This time when the faery knight raised the axe his face held none of the amusement that had played there the first two times. His lips tightened as he held the axe aloft for a long second, and then he swung the edge down with a fierce grunt.

  The stump shivered, and the sound of the axe striking rang out and echoed against the edge of the distant forest. Gawain rolled off the stump. Terence saw a flash of blood on Gawain's neck, and his throat tightened, but then Gawain scrambled to his feet, the Sword Galatine miraculously in his right hand. "You'll get no fourth attempt!" Gawain cried. "I've taken your one blow, and if you wish another, you'll pay for it blow by blow!" Gawain's neck was bright with blood, ebbing from a long scratch, but his feet were steady. Terence held Gawain's helm loosely in one hand, ready to toss it to his master, and he rested the other hand lightly on the hilt of his own sword.

  The Green Knight chuckled. He calmly pulled his axe from the stump and leaned carelessly on it. "Now now, my little friend, I see no need for this unseemly display of anger. I've made no untoward demands of you. I owed you a blow, and I gave you a blow. The rest of my rights I freely resign."

  "You have no other rights!" Gawain snapped.

  "Have I not? I could have done you a good deal of harm, little man. The first stroke I but feinted, for on the first night you were true to our bargain." Gawain took a step backward, and his eyes widened. The knight continued. "The second time, I missed you entirely, for on that night too you returned to me all that you won that day." A dizzying bewilderment swept over Terence. "But you failed at the third throw, my little friend, and you deserve more than this little tap I've given. Or did you think that I would not know about the green girdle my wife gave you on the third day?"

  Gawain's face froze, and his eyes no longer focused on the Green Knight. Slowly the color drained from his face. He dropped his sword to the ground and began to fumble at the laces to his breastplate. Terence saw with astonishment that Gawain's hands were shaking. "Milord?"

  "Take off my armor, Terence," Gawain said. He continued to fumble at the knots until Terence gently pushed his fingers away and removed Gawain's breastplate himself. Gawain pulled off the green belt and threw it in front of the Green Knight. "There is the girdle, and may it be cursed, for I purchased it at the cost of my
honor." He knelt again at the stump and offered his neck to the Green Knight.

  But the Green Knight shook his head. "Nay, Sir Gawain. I've received my due. Now you are indeed worthy."

  "Now I am worthy?" The Green Knight nodded solemnly, and Gawain said, "How can you say that, when I have but now learned my own unworthiness?"

  "You have answered yourself, Sir Gawain," the Green Knight said. Gawain bowed his head in dejection. The knight picked up the green girdle and tossed it to Gawain. "Keep this. Wear it always. Like your wound, it is a badge of this test."

  "A badge of failure?"

  "Failure is easy. This is a badge of shame. Come, Sir Gawain, Terence. We have done at the Green Chapel, and you have far to ride this day."

  Gawain looked weary. "But where have we yet to go?"

  "Avalon."

  The Green Knight would say no more. He disappeared into the cave in the Green Chapel and emerged several minutes later as Sir Bercilak, though the foolish smile that their host had worn for the past week was gone. He whistled once, and his horse trotted out of the little grove by the brook. Gawain said, "Then my quest is not finished."

  "You should know that there is always more to the quest than appears in the call," Sir Bercilak said. "Come, friends. I fear that our ladies will grow weary awaiting us."

  They rode over a rise, and on the other side Lady Marion and Eileen were waiting. From Eileen's grim expression, Terence guessed that Lady Marion had already explained to her Gawain's test and how he had failed. She looked wordlessly at Terence, her eyes unnaturally large. Then she turned to Gawain and said, "I can only beg your pardon, Gawain, for advising you to save your life at the expense of your honor."

  Terence was glad that she had put it into words, for he had not known how. "Forgive me, too, milord," he said.

  Gawain shook his head. "The shame is only mine." Gawain's face was haggard.

  "Nay, Sir Gawain," Sir Bercilak laughed. "You take it too hard. You have learned shame, true, but shame need not mean unhappiness. Onward!"