Sir Gawayne and the Green Knight | Page 8

the valley. Then look a little on the plain, on thy left
hand, and thou shalt see in that slade the chapel itself, and the burly knight that guards it
(ll. 2118-2148). Now, farewell Gawayne the noble! for all the gold upon ground I would
not go with thee nor bear thee fellowship through this wood 'on foot farther.'" Thus
having spoken, he gallops away and leaves the knight alone.
Gawayne now pursues his journey, rides through the dale, and looks about. He sees no
signs of a resting-place, but only high and steep banks, and the very shadows of the high
woods seemed wild and distorted. No chapel, however, could he discover. After a while
he sees a round hill by the side of a stream; thither he goes, alights, and fastens his horse
to the branch of a tree. He walks about the hill, debating with himself what it might be. It
had a hole in the one end and on each side, and everywhere overgrown with grass, but
whether it was only an old cave or a crevice of an old crag he could not tell (ll.
2149-2188).
"Now, indeed," quoth Gawayne, "a desert is here; this oratory is ugly with herbs
overgrown. It is a fitting place for the man in green to 'deal here his devotions after the
devil's manner.' Now I feel it is the fiend (the devil) in my five wits that has covenanted
with me that he may destroy me. This is a chapel of misfortune--evil betide it! It is the
most cursed kirk that ever I came in." With his helmet on his head, and spear in his hand,
he roams up to the rock, and then he hears from that high hill beyond the brook a
wondrous wild noise. Lo! it clattered in the cliff as if one upon a grindstone were
grinding a scythe. It whirred like the water at a mill, and rushed and re-echoed, terrible to
hear. "Though my life I forgo," says Gawayne, "no noise shall cause me to fear."
Then he cried aloud, "Who dwells in this place, discourse with me to hold? For now is
good Gawayne going right here if any brave wight will hie him hither, either now or
never" (ll. 2189-2216).
"Abide," quoth one on the bank above, over his head, "and thou shalt have all in haste
that I promised thee once."
Soon there comes out of a hole in the crag, with a fell weapon a Danish axe quite new,
the "man in the green," clothed as at first as his legs, locks and beard. But now he is on
foot and walks on the earth. When he reaches the stream, he hops over and boldly strides
about. He meets Sir Gawayne, who tells him that he is quite ready to fulfil his part of the
compact. "Gawayne," quoth that 'green gome' (man), "may God preserve thee! Truly thou
art welcome to my place, 'and thou hast timed thy travel' as a true man should. Thou
knowest the covenants made between us, at this time twelve-month, that on New Year's
day I should return thee thy blow. We are now in this valley by ourselves, and can do as
we please (ll. 2217-2246). Have, therefore, thy helmet off thy head, and 'have here thy

pay.' Let us have no more talk than when thou didst strike off my head with a single
blow."
"Nay, by God!" quoth Gawayne, "I shall not begrudge thee thy will for any harm that
may happen, but will stand still while thou strikest."
Then he stoops a little and shows his bare neck, unmoved by any fear. The Green Knight
takes up his "grim tool," and with all his force raises it aloft, as if he meant utterly to
destroy him. As the axe came gliding down Gawayne "shrank a little with the shoulders
from the sharp iron." The other withheld his weapon, and then reproved the prince with
many proud words. "Thou art not Gawayne that is so good esteemed, that never feared
for no host by hill nor by vale, for now thou fleest for fear before thou feelest harm (ll.
2247-2272). Such cowardice of that knight did I never hear. I never flinched nor fled
when thou didst aim at me in King Arthur's house. My head flew to my feet and yet I
never fled, wherefore I deserve to be called the better man."
Quoth Gawayne, "I shunted once, but will do so no more, though my head fall on the
stones. But hasten and bring me to the point; deal me my destiny, and do it out of hand,
for I shall stand thee a stroke and start no more until thine axe has hit me--have here my
troth." "Have