Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

by Michael Morpurgo

  For three long happy days, with precious little time for sleeping in between, the festivities went on. No one, Gawain and the lovely lady least of all, wanted the last night of merriment to end, for they all knew that in the morning the celebrations would be over and Gawain, like many of the other guests, would have to leave. The midnight hour had long since come and gone, and Gawain was saying his goodbyes, when the lord of the castle took him by the elbow and led him aside so they could talk privately. “I don’t want you to go, Gawain, my friend,” he said. “Stay awhile, for my sake, a little longer.”

  “Sir,” replied Gawain. “I wish I could. I would do anything in my power to repay you for the untold kindnesses you have shown me. Believe me, there is nothing in this world I’d like better than to stay here with you. But honor demands I should leave in the morning. I have no choice.”

  “Why?” asked the lord. “What is so urgent that it cannot be delayed just a few days? I know something has been troubling you, Gawain. A man can tell, and a woman too. My wife has told me how even in the midst of great merriment your brow can suddenly darken as if you are afflicted by the most fearful thoughts and imaginings. Tell me what is troubling you, Gawain.”

  So Gawain told the lord his whole story, all that had happened the year before at King Arthur’s court, and about the promise he had to keep with the Green Knight at the Green Chapel on New Year’s Day. “So now you know, sir, why I must be on my way, why I don’t wish to go, and why I must go. And I haven’t left myself much time. I still don’t know where I can find this Green Chapel.”

  At this the lord clapped him cheerily on the back. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that,” he said, “because the Green Chapel you talk of is only a few miles from here. I know the place well. When the time comes, I’ll have one of my servants take you there — it’ll take half a morning, no more. So you see, you can stay on here and leave on the morning of New Year’s Day itself. You’ll be there in plenty of time.”

  “You’re quite sure?” Gawain asked.

  “Perfectly certain,” replied the lord, putting an arm around him. “Listen, Gawain, for the next few days I want you to put aside all thoughts of that day and that place, and just enjoy yourself. Eat, drink, and be merry — you know what they say — for tomorrow we die.” And the lord’s booming laughter rang around the hall.

  Gawain, who was not able to laugh quite so wholeheartedly at this, did his best to put a brave face on it. “Then I shall stay,” he said, “and gladly too. But how can I repay you for all this lavish hospitality, all this loving kindness? If there is ever any favor I can do for you, sir, you have only to ask and it shall be done.”

  “If there is, my friend, I shall ask,” replied the lord. “You can be sure of it.”

  So Gawain stayed, and they spent all the next day with the ladies, walking and talking, with more feasting and dancing that evening — always watched, Gawain noticed, by the ancient crone, who followed them everywhere like a shadow, her eyes always fixed on Gawain as if she were examining his very soul. But even so the day was the most enjoyable yet, for there were now fewer guests there and at times, Gawain had the lord and his delectable lady almost to himself.

  After everyone else had gone to bed, the two knights sat alone together, talking and musing late into the night, warming their feet in front of the fire. Then suddenly, the lord of the castle leaned forward. “Tell me, Gawain, did you really mean it when you told me last night you would do me any favor I asked, or was it just talk?”

  “Of course I meant it,” Gawain replied. “Ask away, whatever you like.”

  “Well then,” said the lord, a smile on his lips, “here’s what I propose. I shall be going hunting every day for the next three days. After your long journey in the saddle, the last thing you’ll want is three days’ hard hunting. So instead, why don’t you stay here and look after my wife and keep her company. She hates being left alone. Would you do that for me? She’ll look after you very well, I’m sure of that. She’ll see your every wish fulfilled.”

  “I can’t think of anything I’d like better,” Gawain replied, and he meant it too.

  “But just one thing more,” the lord went on. “I like games — I always have. I should like the two of us to a play a little game. These are the rules: Whatever I bring back from my day’s hunting, whatever I catch, I will give to you. And in return, whatever comes your way back here, however small or insignificant it may seem, you will return it to me at the end of the day. Does that sound fair? Shall we play?”

  “Why not?” said Gawain, and laughing, they shook hands on it. “Here’s hoping, for my sake, you have a good day’s hunting.”

  “You too,” replied the lord of the castle. “Let’s seal our pact with more wine, shall we?” And so indeed they did, with more and more wine, until at last the fire died at their feet, and the cold of night crept into the hall and forced them up to bed.

  deep in his dreams, the lord was up and dressing for the hunt, as was every other man in the castle — servant, squire, and knight. Mass was said, as always. Straightaway afterward, they went to have their morning broth as the horses were readied in the snowy courtyard outside, the deerhounds gamboling at their feet, their tails waving, wild with excitement. Then, with the lord and his followers mounted, the whole company clattered out over the drawbridge, their hot breaths — horse, man, and hound alike — mingling in the frosty air.

  Once the huntsmen were across the plain and into the woods, the horns sounded, sending the willing hounds to their work. They soon set up such a yelping and barking and baying that the whole valley resounded, sending shivers of fear into the hearts of every deer in the forest. Even as the deer heard it, they knew that there was no hiding place now, that speed was their only savior, that the slowest amongst them would surely die that day. So they ran for their lives, stags and hinds, bucks and does, flitting through the sunlit glades, leaping the roaring streams, clambering up rocky ravines, trying all the while to outrun the hounds, to shake off the hunters. But the deerhounds had seen them now and were hard on their heels. Waiting ahead of the deer, hidden in the forest, were the beaters, who, setting up a sudden terrible hullabaloo, turned them and drove them back toward the hunters’ arrows, toward the tearing teeth of the hounds. Time after time, the archers let loose their arrows, and another deer fell. Time after time, the hounds cornered an old stag and dragged him down. Hot with the chase but never tiring, the lord and his hunters rode on all day, following the deer wherever they fled, down deep wooded valleys, up over rocky moors. Many a deer died that morning, but many also were allowed to escape. The lord, as considerate a huntsman as he was a kind host, saw to it that they killed only the old and the weak and allowed the others to live on.

  All the while, back in the castle Gawain slumbered on. Hovering on the edge of a dream, he was not sure at first if the footstep he heard was real or imagined. Waking now, he sat up and pulled back his bed curtain, just a finger’s breadth. The lady of the castle, that beautiful creature, was there in his room, in her nightgown. She was closing the door silently behind her. Quickly Gawain lay back again and pretended to be fast asleep. His heart beating fast, he heard the soft footsteps, heard the bed curtains being drawn back, felt the bed sag as she sat down beside him.

  Now what do I do? thought Gawain. She cannot have come here simply to talk about the weather, can she? Perhaps I had better find out what she wants. So pretending he was just waking up, he turned on his back and stretched and yawned. Then he opened his eyes. He did his best to feign surprise, but he knew himself it wasn’t a very convincing performance.

  “Awake at last, Sir Gawain! I never took you for a sleepyhead,” she began, her eyes smiling down at him. “So at long last I have you at my mercy.”

  “If you say so, my lady,” Gawain replied, sitting up and trying to gather his wits about him as he was speaking. “You know I would do anything in my power to please you, lady,” he went on, struggling to find the right words. “But I
think I should much prefer to get up and get dressed first — if you don’t mind, that is.”

  “But I do mind,” she said reproachfully, and she shifted a little nearer to him on the bed. “I mind greatly. I have the great Sir Gawain close beside me. Do you think I would let him go? Would any lady let him go? I don’t think so. I know you are renowned throughout the land for your courtesy, your chivalry, and your honor. But my husband is off hunting with his friends, and after last night’s merrymaking, everyone else is still asleep. We are all alone.” She leaned over him, her lovely face, her soft skin close to his.

  “Lady,” he replied, “I’ll be honest with you. God knows I’m not nearly as honorable as I’d like to be, or as I’m made out to be. I wouldn’t ever want to upset you, dear lady, but why don’t we just talk? I like talking. I’m good at talking. I can be funny, serious, charming, or thoughtful — whatever you like.”

  The lady laughed, took Gawain’s hand, and drew him closer again. “Dear Gawain,” she said, looking deep into his eyes so that his heart all but melted, “there isn’t a lady in this land who wouldn’t die to be where I am now. In you I have everything a woman could desire — beauty, strength, charm. You are as truly courteous and chivalrous a knight as I have ever known.” She sighed longingly and caressed him so tenderly with her eyes that Gawain almost gave in.

  “I am very flattered, lady, that you should think so highly of me. I will try therefore to live up to these high ideals of knighthood you say I possess, and to which certainly I aspire. I will be your servant and your true knight, not wanting ever to hurt you or harm you in any way, or ever to take advantage. I want only to protect you.”

  At this the lovely lady threw up her hands in despair. “Gawain, you disappoint me,” she said. “But I’m not leaving this room without a kiss. As my knight you owe me that at least. Deny me that, and you would hurt me deeply.” One kiss, thought Gawain, where’s the harm in that? As long as I don’t enjoy it too much, it will be fine.

  “As your knight I would never want to hurt you, lady,” Gawain replied. “As your servant I will obey, willingly. Kiss away, my lady.” And so she kissed him long and lovingly and then quickly left the room.

  Stunned by the kiss, Gawain sat there confused, relieved she was gone and yet longing for a second kiss. He washed and dressed swiftly and went downstairs, where all the ladies were waiting for him. He had a dozen other ladies looking after him that day, as well as the lady of the castle. They tended to his every need, so as you can well imagine, Gawain had a fine time of it. But wherever he went, whatever he did, he felt that ancient crone, that wrinkled hag, always watching him — and usually from somewhere behind him, so that by the end of the day Gawain had a dreadful crick in his neck.

  As the sun set through the windows of the great hall, they heard the drawbridge go rattling down. Rushing to look, they saw the hunters spurring into the darkening courtyard, their horses’ hooves sparking as they struck the cobbles. Great was the excitement when into the hall strode the lord of the castle, mud-spattered from the hunt, a huge deer slung over his shoulder. This he laid down at once at Gawain’s feet. “Here you are, Gawain, my friend,” he cried triumphantly. “Look what I have for you. I have twenty more like this, and all of them are yours, as I promised. Well? How do you think I have done?”

  “Wonderfully well, my lord,” Gawain began, choosing his words carefully. “But I am afraid you’re going to be very disappointed in me because all I have to offer you in return is this.” And with that, Gawain stepped forward, put his arms around the lord of the castle, and kissed him once on the cheek, very noisily so that everyone could hear it.

  Laughingly, the lord wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. “Well, it’s better than nothing, I suppose,” he said, “but I’d have enjoyed it all the more if I’d known how you came by such a kiss.”

  “That you will never know,” Gawain replied. “It wasn’t part of our agreement. I did not ask you how you killed your deer, did I? No more questions, my lord. You have had all that was owing to you, and that’s that.”

  “Fair enough, my friend,” said the lord of the castle. “I’m starving. I shall bathe first. Then we shall eat and drink and be merry again.”

  Long into the night, the two of them ate and drank and talked together and laughed. Then, over the last goblet of wine — and sensibly they had left the finest wine till last — the two knights made again exactly the same pact between them for the following day. “And I’d like something a bit more interesting this time if you can manage it,” laughed the lord of the castle as they went upstairs to their rooms.

  “I’ll do my best,” said Gawain. “I promise.”

  By the time the cock had crowed three times, the lord was out of his bed and dressing. As before, Mass was said, and a quick breakfast taken. Then the lord and his huntsmen were out in the cold gray of the dawn, mounting up and eager to be gone once again. The hounds too were keen to be off, their noses already scenting the air. Upstairs in his bedchamber as the hunt rode away, Gawain heard none of this. He was dead to the world, sleeping off the heady excesses of the night before.

  Far over the hills, the hunting party went into a deep valley of thorns and thickets, where they knew the wild boar roamed. It wasn’t long before the hounds picked up a scent and gave voice, their howls echoing as loud as the huntsman’s horn so that the whole valley rang with the terrible din of it. Baying in chorus, the bloodhounds splashed on through a murky bog toward an overhanging cliff face, at the foot of which lay great piles of tumbled rocks and rugged crags. Here they stopped and bayed so dreadfully that the huntsmen knew the beast must be hidden in there somewhere, deep in some cave or cleft, but neither man nor hound dared go in after him.

  Then one of those dark rocks seemed suddenly to heave itself to life and become a raging boar. Out of nowhere he came, charging straight at them, the biggest boar the lord had ever seen, and the meanest too. At a glance the huntsmen could see he was old — he had to be, with tusks as huge as his. If he was old, then he must be wily too, and this one was still nimble on his feet. Truly a formidable foe, this bristling monster, enraged at his tormentors, tossed his tusks furiously at the bloodhounds as he came toward them, and threw them aside as easily as if they had been helpless pups. And believe me, those he caught on the points of his tusks never rose again, but afterward lay there dead and bleeding on the ground, a piteous sight. Bravely the hounds leaped at him and bravely he defended himself, spearing through the first one, then another, so that soon the pack bayed for blood no more but moaned and whined in its fear and grief, and hung back, unwilling to attack this monster again. In desperation, the huntsmen tried shooting at him with their bows, but the arrows simply bounced off his bristling hide. They hurled their spears at him, but every one of them splintered on impact.

  Now hunters and hounds both stood back, gazing in awe at this invincible beast as he escaped from them yet again, and wondering if at last they had met their match. But without a thought for his own safety, the lord went after him, charging through the thickets and hallooing so fiercely that, seeing his courage and determination, the huntsmen and the bloodhounds followed. This hunt was not over yet.

  Back at the castle, Gawain lay awake, but sleep was still in his head. What happened next he half expected. He heard the door open and the lady steal softly toward his bed. This time at least he was ready for her. As she parted the bed curtain, he sat up. “Good morning, my lady,” he said cheerily.

  She sat down beside him and stroked his brow softly. “What? Just good morning?” she wheedled. “Is that all I’m worthy of? Did I teach you nothing yesterday? Did we not kiss then, and now it is just ‘good morning’?”

  “Lady,” Gawain replied, “It is not for me to offer to kiss you. If I tried to kiss you and you did not want it, then I’d be in the wrong, would I not?”

  “How could I ever not want it?” she said, playing him with her shining eyes. “And even if I didn’t want it, I could hardly stop y
ou from kissing me, could I?”

  “I would never do that,” Gawain protested. “Where I come from, no knight ever threatens a lady with force. But if you really want to kiss me, then please don’t let me stop you. After all, a kiss from a lady to her knight is quite acceptable.” So the lovely lady leaned toward him and kissed him so sweetly that Gawain almost swooned with the joy of it. He wanted it never to stop. But stop it must, before it was too late. Breathless, Gawain pulled back and held her at arm’s length. “Look,” he said, “why don’t we just talk? It’s less dangerous.”

  “Oh, Gawain,” complained the lovely lady. “Sometimes I’m not sure I believe you are Sir Gawain at all. You are supposed to be the most chivalrous knight in the entire world. Isn’t the sport of love among the most important of all the arts of chivalry? Doesn’t a true knight fight for his love? Or have I got it wrong? Yet you sit there and say no words of love to me. Just to get a kiss out of you is like getting blood out of a stone. Is it that you don’t like me? Am I not attractive to you, is that it?”

  “Of course I do. Of course you are,” Gawain replied.

  “Then what are you waiting for?” she said, exasperated. “Here I am. My lord has gone hunting. We are alone. Teach me all you know of love, Gawain.”