‘Which way did he go?’ asked Gawan. ‘Tell me, host, being so near, did he learn the nature of the Adventure?’
‘He did not learn it, sir. I took good care not to mention it to him. – I should have opened myself to blame had I done so. If it had not occurred to you to ask of your own accord, you would never have been apprised by me of what’s to do here – mighty sorcery fraught with terror! If you will not be wooed from your purpose and you lose your life, it would be the greatest sorrow that ever befell me and my children. But if you win the victory and become lord of this land, my penury will be at an end, for I know your generous hand will raise me up to affluence. If your lot is to survive, your victory here can win joy without sorrow. Now arm yourself against great hardship!’
Gawan was still without weapons and armour. ‘Bring me my equipment,’ he said, and it was his host who carried out the order. But the one who armed him from his feet upward was the sweet and lovely girl. His host went to fetch his charger. On one of his walls there hung a thick, tough shield -it saved Gawan’s life, later – and this was brought to him together with his horse.
And now the master of the house had the forethought to come and stand before him and say: ‘I will tell you how you must comport yourself when faced with those deadly perils. You must carry my shield, which is neither hacked nor pierced, for I never fight – so how should it suffer any harm? When you arrive up at the Castle, sir, there is one thing that can help you with your horse. A huckster sits before the Gate. – Leave your mount with him outside. Buy something of him, no matter what. He will guard your charger all the better for it if you leave it as an earnest. And if you are not prevented, you will be glad of your horse.’
‘Am I not to ride in on horseback?’ asked my lord Gawan.
‘No, sir. All those radiant ladies will stay hidden from your sight: the hour of peril is at hand I You will find the Palace deserted. – Great or small, you will find no living thing there. May the Grace of God be with you when you enter the chamber which houses Lit marveile! If the crown and all the treasure of the Mahmumelin* of Morocco were set against that Bed and its bed-posts, they would not fetch their price! As you lie on it, it will be your lot to suffer what God has in mind for you. May He manifest a joyful outcome! Remember, sir, if you are a worthy knight, never to part company with this shield or with your sword. For just as you are thinking that your great trial is over, it will take on the colour of serious fighting!’
When Gawan had mounted, the girl’s spirits faltered, while all those present gave way to unrestrained laments.
‘God willing, I shall not be slow to reward you for your loyal service in entertaining me like this,’ Gawan assured his host. He then took leave of the maiden whose great sorrow was only natural. Now he rode off, while they stood weeping here. And if it is your wish to hear how Gawan fared there, I shall tell you all the more willingly.
I shall tell you as I heard it. Arriving before the Gate, Gawan found the Huckster. The latter’s Booth was not empty, for in it, up for sale, lay goods that would make me wild with joy, had I such treasure! Gawan rode up to him and dismounted. He had never seen such magnificent wares as it was his lot to see there. The Booth was made of samite, square, high and capacious. And what did it hold for sale? Were there any question of buying it, the Baruc of Baghdad could not have met the cost of what lay in that Booth, nor the Catholicus of Hromgla. Moreover, in the days when Bysance still had its treasure,† its Emperor could not have paid for it, not even if the other two had helped him – of such rare worth was that Merchandise!
Gawan greeted the Huckster. When he saw the marvels on sale there he asked to be shown some girdles or clasps, in keeping with his modest means.
‘Truly’, said the Huckster, ‘I have been here for years on end without any other than noble ladies venturing to inspect the contents of my Booth. If yours is a manly heart this shall all be yours. It was brought from far-off lands. If you are bent on winning fame and have come here in quest of adventure, and if success attends you, you can easily come to terms with me. – Then all my wares will be yours! Continue on your way, and God’s will be done! Was it Plippalinot the Ferryman who showed you the way here? Many ladies will laud your coming to this land if you release them. If you wish to go after adventures leave your charger here. If you will leave him to me I will take care of him.’
‘I should be glad to leave him to you, if it is not beneath you. But your wealth affrights me, for never since I first sat up on him did he have such an opulent groom!’
‘Sir,’ replied the Huckster pleasantly, ‘what more shall I say? I myself and all my goods will be yours if you come through alive here. Who would have a better right to my allegiance?’
Gawan’s dauntless courage inspired him to march on on foot. As I told you before, the Castle he saw before him was vast, with each of its flanks stoutly fortified. If any had a mind to harm it, it would not care that much in thirty years I Enclosed within its walls was a meadow – but the Lechfeld extends farther! Many towers loomed above the battlements. The story tells us that when Gawan looked at the Palace its whole roof resembled peacock’s feathers, so gaily coloured was it and such that neither rain nor snow could mar its lustre. Inside, the Palace was embellished and adorned, its window-shafts well fluted and bearing lofty vaulting. In alcoves lay couches past number, here and there, each on its own and draped with luxurious quilts of many kinds. Sitting on them had been ladies who had taken care to withdraw. Thus Gawan, on whom the advent of their joy, their day of-bliss depended, was not received by them. If only they could have seen him, what greater pleasure could they have had? Not one was allowed to do so, despite his wish to wait on them. It was not of their doing.
My lord Gawan walked up and down as he surveyed the Palace. In one of the walls – don’t ask me on which side – he saw a wide-open door, in die chamber to which it led he was either to win glory or die in the attempt. He entered. Its pavement shone smooth and clear as glass. Upon it stood that fabulous Bed: Lit marveile! Below, clasped by the bed-posts they carried, four balls* of glowing ruby finely rounded ran swifter than die wind! I must praise this pavement for you. Devised by Clinschor to his taste, it was of jasper, chrysolite and sardine. With his subtle lore he had brought die artifice applied to it from many lands.
The pavement was so glassy that Gawan could hardly find purchase for his feet. He went at a peradventure. And as often as he made a step, the Bed moved on from where it was. The heavy shield he was carrying and which his host had commended to him so earnestly began to irk him. ‘How shall I get at you?’ he wondered. ‘Are you set on dodging away from me? I shall teach you, if I can pounce on top of you!’ At that moment the Bed stood still in front of him. He took a flying jump and landed plumb in the middle. No one will ever hear again of the speed at which that Bed went crashing from side to side! Not one wall did it spare, but hurtled against each so that the whole Castle echoed with its thuds.
In this way Gawan rode many a mighty charge. If all the thunder that ever roared had been in that room and all the trumpeters there ever were, from the First to the Last, and they were blowing for their hire, there could not have been a more ear-splitting din. Although he was abed, Gawan had to stay awake. What did the warrior do? He was so overwhelmed by this clamour that he pulled his shield up over him. He lay still and left his fate in the hands of Him Who has power to help nor ever wearied of it when men in dire need have known how to seek it of Him. When trouble manifests itself to a wise and stout-hearted man he appeals to the Almighty, Whose hand bears aid in abundance, and Who will succour him. This is what happened to Gawan. too. He asked Him to Whose power and goodness he had always ascribed his own renown, to watch over him now. The crashing and blaring ceased the moment the Bed came to a halt at the very centre of the pavement equidistant from the four walls. This was the signal for even greater peril for him. Five hundred slingstaves had been primed to throw by subtle arts, and their cast was aimed at the Bed on which he lay. The sh
ield was so tough that he felt their impact but little – hard, round pebbles they were – though it was holed in several places.
The hail of pebbles was now over. Never had he endured so violent a bombardment! And now five hundred crossbows or more were tensed to shoot, and one and all were trained straight on the Bed. Any used to torment of this sort will know what bolts are like! It was not long before their whirrs had thed away. Whoever has an eye to his comfort should fight shy of a bed of this sort, he would be given no comfort there: from the ease Gawan had found in that Bed young men could turn grey, yet his heart and hand did not tremble. The bolts and pebble-stones were far from having missed him, he was all cut and bruised through his chain-mail.
Gawan was now hoping that his troubles were over, but he still had to win fame by fighting. For at that instant a door opened opposite him through which came a brawny rustic, horrible to see, clad in a smock, bonnet and baggy breeches made from the skin of a water-beast. In his hand he held a club whose bulge was thicker than an ewer. He made for Gawan, which was not at all to Gawan’s liking, rather was he put out at his coming.
‘This fellow has no armour,’ he reflected. ‘He is incapable of defending himself from me.’ Gawan sat up as if none of his limbs were aching. The other retreated a step as though about to withdraw.
‘You need have no fear of me!’ he shouted angrily nevertheless. ‘All the same, I shall see to it that something happens to you from which you will lose your life. That you are still alive is due only to the power of the Devil, but even if he has saved you here, nothing can prevent your dying. This I shall bring home to you as soon as I have left.’ And the rustic went back into the room.
Gawan cut the shafts of the crossbow bolts from his shield with his sword – they had all forced their way clean through it and struck his mail with a clang. He then heard a roar as though twenty drums were being beaten for a dance. In his firm courage, whose integrity had never been gashed or scarred by real fear, Gawan wondered ‘What is going to happen to me now? I could claim to have enough trouble as it is. Is there more in store for me? I must see to my defence.’ And as he looked towards the rustic’s door, a mighty lion, tall as a horse, leapt out from it. Not given to running away, Gawan gripped his shield by its thong, and the better to defend himself leapt down on to the pavement. This huge and mighty lion had been made terrible by hunger, but he was to reap little advantage from it. He pounced angrily at the man. Lord Gawan stood on guard. The lion all but snatched his shield away with his first lunge, since its paw went through it, claws and all! Never before has a beast struck its paw through such toughness! Gawan prevented it from tearing his shield from his grasp by hewing off its leg at a stroke, with the result that the lion was now prancing on three legs, leaving the paw of the fourth wedged in the shield. The beast’s blood gushed out so copiously, spreading this way and that, that Gawan could not take a firm stance. Time and time again did the lion leap at the stranger and bare its fangs with many a snort. If it had been trained to devour good people as its fare I should not like to be its neighbour. Fighting him for his life Gawan, too, was equally averse to such a prospect.
Gawan had wounded the lion so gravely that the whole chamber was wet with its blood. And now it sprang at him in a fury to pluck him under itself. But Gawan stabbed it through the breast to such a depth that his sword was buried to the hilt, at which the lion’s rage abated, for it stumbled and fell down dead. Gawan had fought and overcome his great peril. His next thought was ‘What is best for me now? I don’t want to sit here in this blood. This Bed too dashes around so madly that I must take good care not to sit or lie in it, if I have any sense.’
Now Gawan’s head was in such a whirl from the slingstones and bolts, and his wounds were beginning to bleed so copiously that his gallant strength forsook him and he fell down in a swoon. His head was pillowed on the lion, and his shield had fallen beneath him. If he had ever had strength and intelligence they had been ravished from him now, so roughly had he been assailed. All his senses had given him the slip! His pillow was unlike the one which charming, clever Gymele of Monte Rybele laid under Kahenis’s head and on which he slept his glory away!* Glory, however, was racing towards this man, for you have heard in full how he was bereft of his senses and lay swooning, and how it all arose.
Unseen eyes observed that the chamber-floor was bedewed with blood. Both Gawan and the lion seemed dead. A comely young lady-in-waiting peeped timidly down from a high window, and her bright face paled at the sight. This young woman was so appalled that her senior, the wise Arnive, wept at her news – Arnive, whom I still honour for warding off death and saving him.
Arnive went to the scene to look, and when she too had peeped down she was unable to tell whether it was to be days of future happiness or never-ending grief. She feared the knight was dead – a thought which much distressed her – for Gawan was lying on the lion and had no other couch. ‘I shall be mortified if your loyal courage has lost you your noble life,’ she said. ‘If you have found death here for the sake of us poor exiles, your goodness will move me to pity always, whether you be young or old, since it was a loyal heart that prompted you.’
Seeing the warrior lying there in such sad state she said to all her ladies: ‘You ladies that are Christians, call on God for His blessing!’ She sent two young ladies there with orders to tiptoe in and bring her news, before withdrawing, as to whether he were dead or alive: such was her bidding to these two. You ask if either of these lovely girls was weeping? Both were weeping, I assure you, moved by true sorrow, when they found him lying there in this plight, his shield awash with his blood. They examined him to see if he lived.
One of them with her fair hand unlaced and removed his helmet and then his ventail, revealing flecks of foam on his red lips. She now looked intently to discover whether he were still breathing or she were deceived by the semblance of life: for the issue was in doubt. On his surcoat there were two Dragon-lets cut in sable such as Ilinot the Briton had displayed with great lustre – he who had gathered glory enough in his young life. Of this fur the girl plucked a tuft and held it beneath his nose and watched closely to see if it stirred, however slightly, in response to his breathing.
Breathing was detected there. And at once she told her fair friend to fetch some clear water, and this the latter quickly brought her. The girl delicately inserted a slender finger between his teeth and gently poured in some water, in driblets, not too much, till suddenly he opened his eyes. He thanked the charming girl most gallantly. ‘I am sorry you had to find me lying in this ill-bred fashion,’ he said. ‘I should judge it a kindness on your part if you would not let this go any further. I rely on your courtesy to dissuade you.’
‘You lay and are lying as one who has covered himself with glory!’ they declared. ‘You have gained such renown here that you will grow old in contentment. Victory is yours today! Now assure us poor people that the state of your wounds is such that we can share your joy.’
‘You must aid me if you wish to see me live,’ he answered. He then asked the young ladies, ‘Let someone skilled in such matters examine my wounds. But if I have to fight again lace on my helmet and go – I intend to defend myself!’
‘You are exempt from further fighting,’ they replied. ‘Let us stay with you, sir, except that one of us must go and be rewarded by four queens for the news that you are still alive! They will also have to make ready for you comfortable lodgement and pure medicaments, and tend you faithfully with ointments such as will soothe your bruises and heal your wounds with gentle efficacy.’
Thus one of the girls nimbly raced away to bring the news to court that the warrior was alive. ‘And in such vigour that, God willing, he will bring us abundant happiness! But he is in great need of attention.’
‘Thank God!’ they said, one and all.
The wise old Queen ordered a bed to be made ready and a carpet to be spread before it in front of a good fire. For the bruises and wounds she obtained unguents most rare,
ingeniously concocted. She then commanded four ladies to go and receive his armour. They were to remove it from him tenderly and take good care not to put him to the blush.
‘Take a roll of silk to screen you and unarm him behind it. If it is possible for him to walk, allow it, otherwise carry him to where I shall be seeing to the bed he is to lie in. If his battle passed off without a mortal wound I shall soon restore him to health. But if any of his wounds is of a fatal kind, this would cut across our rejoicing, for then we too would be slain and have to endure a living death!’
This was duly done. Lord Gawan was unarmed and led away from that place and given aid by those who knew how. His wounds were of the number of fifty or more, but the bolts had not forced their way through his chain-mail to any depth, since he had slung his shield in front of him. The old Queen took dittany* and warm wine and a piece of blue cendale and with it wiped the gore from his wounds, when there was some, and bandaged him so well that he recovered. As to the bruises on his head, where you could see his helmet had been dented by missiles, raising bumps, she made them disappear by a combination of skill and potent salves.
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