SIR GAWAIN
AND THE
LADY OF LYS

[Pg vii]

Contents

[Pg ix]

Introduction

THE stories contained in
the present volume of
Arthurian Romances are
drawn from the same
collection of tales as that
from which the first visit
of Gawain to the Grail
castle, in the preceding
volume of the series, is derived.
Indeed, the stories
follow in close sequence, and a glance at
the introductory lines of the Grail visit
will show that that adventure is placed
immediately after the successful termination
of the expedition against Chastel
Orguellous, which forms the subject of
this volume. These stories practically form
three separate tales, and are translated
almost entirely from the same MS. as
that used for the Grail visit, the fine
Perceval codex B.N. 12576. With regard
to the second adventure a few words of
explanation are necessary.

The relations of Gawain with the lady
of Lys, recorded in all the Perceval-Wauchier
texts, are as a rule related twice
[Pg x]
over; in the first instance in the section
which, in my Perceval studies, I have called
the Brun de Branlant section, as it is
devoted to Arthur’s expedition against that
recalcitrant noble. Gawain’s meeting with
the lady takes place, as he here explains,
during the siege. Later on, on the
expedition against Chastel Orguellous,
related in these pages, Arthur and his
knights come all unwittingly to the castle
of the lady’s brother, Bran de Lis, and
Gawain, realising the position, relates the
story of the first meeting.

Now in the best and fullest texts the
two versions do not agree—they are, in fact,
incapable of being harmonised—and the
curious point is that this second version,
related by Gawain himself, and included in
a collection of tales of which he is the hero,
represents his conduct in a distinctly less
favourable light. In the Studies above
referred to I have entered at length into
the question, and have expressed my
opinion that this second form is really the
older, and owes its somewhat repellent
character to the fact that it is a survival of
a very early, pre-chivalric stage of tradition.
It is worthy of note that the subsequent
[Pg xi]
conduct of both brother and sister is precisely
the same in both versions; whether
Gawain accepts favours freely proffered, or
takes them by force, Bran de Lis is neither
more nor less his enemy; whether she wins
her heart’s desire, or is the victim of force
majeure, his sister is equally Gawain’s
devoted amie. But for purposes of translation
the versions do not stand on an equal
footing; and, these volumes being intended
for the general public, I have preferred to
follow the later and, undoubtedly, more
sympathetic form.

Nor is this to take an undue liberty with
the text; we are but following the example
set by certain early copyists. Two MSS., B.N.
794 and British Museum Add. 36614, give
the story on each occasion in an identical
form. Their text, however, is on the
whole far less detailed and interesting than
that of B.N. 12576. I have therefore, for
the terms of Gawain’s recital, and for that
only, adopted the version of 794; for the
rest the stories are as close a rendering as
may be of the text of 12576.

The first story, Kay and the Spit, and the
taking of Chastel Orguellous, all part of one
and the same expedition, possess a special
[Pg xii]
interest for us, in that we have in our
English Gawayne and Golagros another
version of the same tales. Sir Frederick
Madden, in his Syr Gawayne, drew attention
to this, and gave a brief summary of the
French text. It seemed to me that the
interest of the story itself, and its connection
with our vernacular literature, were sufficient
to warrant a full translation being
placed at the disposal of English readers.
For indeed the interest of these stories is
great, and if I be not mistaken, their
importance as yet scarcely realised. Since
the publication of the last volume of this
series we have become aware of certain
facts, small in themselves, but weighty in
their connection and ensemble, which go to
prove that there existed at an early date a
collection of poems dealing with the feats
of Gawain and his kin, which may be styled
The Geste of Syr Gawayne, the authorship
of which was ascribed to a certain Bleheris.
Of this collection the story in vol. i., Sir
Gawain and the Green Knight; the first visit of
Sir Gawain to the Grail castle, in vol. vi.; and
the stories here given all formed part, while
our English Gawain poems are a late and
fragmentary survival of the same collection.

[Pg xiii]
Judging also from the appearance on the
scene of Gawain’s son, Guinglain, and the
numerous allusions in Wauchier’s text to
the length and importance of the grande
conte of which these tales formed a part, it
seems most probable that the original collection
included a version of the adventures
of the hero we know as Sir Libeaus Desconus,
whose feats will be found recorded in vol. v.
of this series. The English poem there
modernised says that the hero was begotten
by a forest side, thus apparently identifying
him with the child of the picturesque
adventure related in these pages. At the
same time the adventures summarised by
Wauchier—for he gives but little detail
concerning Guinglain—do not agree with
the English tradition. At a considerably later
point of the collection, however, we find
the young knight giving his name in terms
which accord completely with our poem;
on meeting his father,

Which may well refer to the tale we
know.

[Pg xiv]
This is not the place to enter into a discussion
of the varying tradition connected
with Sir Guinglain; the point of interest is
rather the character of the stories with
which we are immediately dealing.

There can, I think, be little doubt that
whoever was responsible for the Geste of
Syr Gawayne, and whether Bleheris, whose
name is more than once connected with it,
composed, or merely arranged, the poems,
they represent a tradition of great poetical
force and vitality. The adventure with
the sister of Bran de Lis is an admirable
story, picturesque, vivid, and full of human
interest. Our Syr Gawayne and the Grene
Knyghte is notoriously one of the finest of
our Mediæval poems. The visit of Sir
Gawain to the Grail castle, related in our
last volume, yields in dramatic detail and
picturesque directness of narration to no
other version of that mysterious story. We
can well understand that, in its original
form, the collection must have been one
that appealed forcibly to the imagination of
the hearers.

If any one will glance through these
stories consecutively, he cannot fail to
[Pg xv]
realise that the character of the hero is the
same throughout. Gawain is unfailingly
valiant, generous, and courteous, even, as
we see in our final story, to excess. We
realise as we read that, as Professor
Maynadier, in his Wife of Bath’s Tale, has
well pointed out, it is in truth Gawain and
not Arthur who was the typical English
hero.

Is it too much to ask of the students of
Malory, fascinated by the noble style in
which he has clothed and disguised the real
poverty of his réchauffée, that they should
for a short time lay him aside, and turning
back to the true Arthurian legend, learn at
last to do justice to one of the most
gracious and picturesque figures in literature—a
figure to which gross injustice has
been done—that, rejecting Malory’s libel,
they do tardy justice to our own insular
hero—for not the most fanatical partisan of
the Continental school has ever ventured
to claim him—to the true Sir Gawain?
Then, perhaps, we may have a demand
for his real story, and it may be possible
once more to rejoice the hearts of our
English folk with a restored and modern
[Pg xvi]
rendering of the Geste of Syr Gawayne, even
as Bleheris told it well nigh a thousand
years ago. If that day ever come neither
author nor hero will need any apology on
the part of the translator!

Paris, February 1907.

[Pg 3]

Sir Gawain and the Lady
of Lys

HEARKEN to me and ye shall
hear how the good King
Arthur and his knights
went forth to the wood
for archery, and how at
vesper-tide they gat them
homeward right joyfully.

The knights rode gaily
ahead, holding converse
the one with the other,
and behind them came the king, on a tall
and prancing steed. He ware no robe
of state, but a short coat, which became
him right well.

Behind all his men he rode, pensive and
frowning, as one lost in thought. And as
he thus lagged behind Sir Gawain looked
back, and saw the king riding alone and
pensive, and he bade his comrades draw
rein and wait for their lord. And as the
king came anigh he drew his steed beside
him, and stretched out his hand, laughing,
and laid hold on the bridle, and said, “Sire,
tell us, for the love of God, of what ye
may now be thinking? Sire, your
thoughts should be of naught but good, for
[Pg 4]
there is no prince in this world equal to ye
in valour or in honour, therefore should ye
be very joyful!”

The king made answer courteously,
“Fair nephew, an I may be joyful I will
tell ye truly that whereon I thought.
There is no king living on earth who hath
had such good and such great service from
his men as I; it seemeth to me now right
and fitting that I should give to them that
which they have deserved for the toil they
have suffered for me, whereby I be come
to such high estate. Fair nephew, I
bethought me that my riches would avail
little if through sloth I failed to reward
the good service of these my knights, who
have made me everywhere to be obeyed
and honoured. Now without delay will I
tell ye that I am minded to hold, at
Pentecost, a far greater court than is my
wont, and to give to each and all such
gifts as shall be well pleasing to them, so
that each may be glad and joyful, and ever
hereafter of good will towards me.”

Swiftly, and before all the others, Sir
Gawain made answer, “Fair Sire, blessed
be the thought into which ye have fallen,
for ’tis so fair and so good that neither
[Pg 5]
kaiser nor king nor count might think a
better.”

And the king asked, “Nephew, tell me
straightway where do ye counsel that this
my court be held?”

“Sire, at Carnarvon; there let all your
knighthood assemble, for there is not in all
your kingdom a fairer place, nor nobler
halls, and it lieth in the marches of Wales,
and of the land of Britain.”

The king and all his company rode
back joyfully, and that selfsame night did
the king Arthur give command that all
the knights and all the barons throughout
the land should be summoned by letter to
come to him at Pentecost.

That great knighthood came thither,
that famous knighthood came thither, even
so have I heard, and assembled for this
court at Carnarvon.

Ah God! from what far-off lands did
they come. Thither were come the men
of Ireland, and of Scotland, of Iceland, of
Wales, and of Galvoie (a land where
many a man goeth astray). From Logres
they came, and from Escavalon; men of
Norway, Bretons, Danes, and they of
Orcanie. Never was so great a knighthood
[Pg 6]
assembled at any court as that which the
good king Arthur summoned to him.

The day of the Holy Feast, when he
had worn his crown at the high procession,
knights and barons conducted him with
joy to his palace; and therewith Kay, the
seneschal, bade them sound the trumpets
and bring water. First the king washed,
and thereafter sat down aloft, on the high
daïs, so that all who sat there at meat
might see him. Four hundred knights,
save three, sat themselves down at the
Round Table; at the second were seated
the thirty peers. Crowded were the ranks
of the other knights who were seated
throughout the hall, as was fitting, on daïs,
and at tables on the ground. Then quickly
Kay the seneschal bare the first meat, and
the service was made throughout the hall,
in joyful wise, as befitted such high festivity.

Now as the king ate, he looked towards
the Round Table, even as one who would
take knowledge of all, and by hap his eye
fell on the seat of a knight good and
true, which was void and lacking its
rightful lord. Then so great a pity and
tenderness took him that the tears rose
from his heart to his eyes, and thence
[Pg 7]
welled forth, and he sighed a great and
piteous sigh when he remembered him of
that knight. He took a knife which
Yones held (nephew was he to king Ydier,
and carved before Arthur), and, frowning
and thoughtful, smote the blade through
the bread which lay on the board. Then
he rested his head on the one hand, even
as one whose thoughts are troubled by
anger or grief, and unheeding, ran the
palm of the other adown the sharp knife,
so that he was somewhat wounded. At
sight of the blood he bethought himself,
and left hold of the knife and taking the
napkin, wrapped it swiftly around his hand,
so that they who ate in the hall below
might not see. And with that he fell
once more into thought and bowed down
his head, and as he mused the tears came
again to his eyes.

When Sir Gawain beheld this he marvelled
much, and therein was he right, for
to all who were in the hall it seemed but
folly. Then he rose up straightway, and
passed between the ranks till that he came
before the daïs, and saw that the king was
again lost in thought. He hasted not to
speak till that he saw him raise his head, but
[Pg 8]
so soon as he lifted up his face Sir Gawain
spake right courteously; “Sire, Sire, ’tis
neither right nor fitting that ye should have
such wrath or displeasure as should make
ye thus moody in the sight of so many high
and noble barons as ye may see here around
ye; rather should their solace and their
company please and rejoice ye.”

“Gawain, will ye that I tell ye whence
came the thought which has made me thus
sad and silent?”

“Yea, Sire, that do I pray of ye.”

“Fair nephew, know of a truth that I will
tell ye willingly, in the hearing of all these
good knights. My thoughts were of ye, and
of many another whom I see here, of the
wickedness of which ye are full, and of the
envy and the treason long time hid, and
now made manifest.” With that the king
held his peace, and said no more.

Sir Gawain grew crimson with anger
and shame, and throughout the palace all
held their peace, for much they marvelled
that the king spake thus evilly to his nephew,
calling him in the hearing of all a traitor
proven, and all were wroth therefor.
Then he to whom the ill words were said
answered as best he might, “Sire, that was
[Pg 9]
an ugly word; for your honour bethink ye
of what ye have said in the hearing of all
who be here within.”

“Gawain,” answered the king, “’tis no
empty word, thus of a truth do I repeat it,
and Ywain may well take heed and know
that I thought of him but now, when I sat
silent and pensive, here within have I not
one single comrade whom I do not accuse
of treason and too great felony!”

With that I know not how many sprang
to their feet, and a great clamour filled the
hall. “Lords,” cried Tor fis Ares, “I conjure
ye by the oath which ye and I alike sware
to king Arthur that ye restrain yourselves,
and act as is befitting; he accuses ye all of
treason—these be right evil tidings!” In
like wise also spake Sir Ywain. “Ah God,”
quoth Sir Gawain, “with what joy was all
this great court summoned and assembled,
and in what grief shall it be broken up!”

The king heard, and, sighing, spake,
“Gawain, I have spoken but the truth!”

“Fair Sire, for the love of God, and for
honesty, tell us after what manner and in
what fashion we be felon and traitorous?”

Quoth the king, “An ye will I will tell
ye; now hearken. Ye know of a truth that
[Pg 10]
aforetime there reigned in this land a folk
who built castles and cities, strong towers
and fortresses, and the great Chastel Orguellous
did they fortify against us. When
we heard tell thereof ye, my knights, delayed
not to go thither, not with my will! There
did I lose so many of my folk that the
thought thereof yet grieveth my heart; the
greater part were slain, but some among
them were made captive. They took one
of my companions, three years long have
they held him in prison, and thereof have
I great grief at heart. Here within do I
see no better knight; he was beyond measure
valiant, fair of face and form, and very
wise was he in counsel. But now, when
all this great lordship was set down here to
meat, I beheld that knight’s seat void and
lacking its lord, and for sorrow and grief
was my heart heavy and troubled when I
saw him not in his place in your ranks; it
lacked but little that I were distraught.
Therefore, my lords, do I arraign ye all of
treason; Giflet fis Do is he named that good
and gentle knight, three whole years have
gone by since he was imprisoned in that
tower, and ye be all traitors who have left
your comrade three years and have not
[Pg 11]
sought for or freed him! Yea, and I who
have blamed ye, I be even more the traitor in
that I ever ware crown, or made joy, or held
high feast before I knew if he might be
restored to me, or where he now may be,
whether dead or living! Now on this have
I set my heart,—by the faith I owe to that
Heavenly Lord who hath bestowed on me
earthly honour, and kingdom, and lands,
that for no hap that may befall me will I
delay to set forth in search of him, be it in
never so distant a land. For verily I tell ye
all that the king who loseth so good a knight
by wrongful deed or by sloth, he hath right
neither to lands nor to honour, nor should
he live a day longer, an he deliver not that
knight who for his honour suffered toil and
was made captive. In the ears of ye all do
I make a vow that I will lie not more than
one night in any place till that I know
whether he be dead, or may be freed.”

Then all cried with one voice, “Shame
upon him, Sire, who will not plead guilty
to this treason, for ye speak with right and
reason; by overmuch sloth have we delayed
to ride forth and seek him far hence, even
at the Chastel Orguellous.”

“Lords,” quoth the king, “I tell ye
[Pg 12]
here and at once that I shall set forth to-morrow,
but by the faith that I owe to
Saint Germain I must needs proceed with
wisdom, for here is force of no avail.”

“True, fair Sire,” answered Sir Gawain.
“Know for sooth that the roads ’twixt here
and the Chastel Orguellous be passing hard
and difficult; ’tis a good fifteen days ere ye
be come thither; longer days have ye never
ridden! ’Tis best that one tell ye the
truth! And when ye be come thither,
fair Sire, then shall ye have each day battle,
as I know right well, one knight against
the other, a hundred against a hundred,
that shall ye find truly. Now take good
counsel for the journey, what folk ye may
best take with ye.”

“Lords,” said the king, “now let us to
meat, and afterward will I see by aid of your
counsel whom I take with me, and whom
I leave to guard my land and my folk.”

With that all in the palace, great and
small, ate as quickly as might be; and so
soon as the king saw that ’twas time and
place to speak he bade remove the cloths,
which they did without delay. Thereafter
they brought water, and bare round the
wine in cups of fine gold. Then, it seemeth
[Pg 13]
me, there sprang to their feet at once more
than three thousand knights, who cried the
king mercy, and prayed that he would take
them with him on this adventure, for right
willingly would they go.

“Lords,” quoth the king, “they whom
my barons elect, those will I take, and the
others shall remain to keep my kingdom in
peace.”

Then first, before all others, spake king
Urien, a very wise knight was he. “My
Lord king, ye have no need to take with
ye too great a force; take with ye rather a
few, but good, men, so to my thinking will
ye more swiftly free Giflet, our good comrade,
from his prison. Take with ye the
best of your knights, ’twill be for your
greater honour, and your foes will be the
more speedily vanquished; knight against
knight must ye fight there, and I think me
that such of their men shall there be worsted
that they shall that same day yield ye
Giflet the good and valiant knight. Have
no doubt for the when or how, but bid
them make ready. I can but praise the folk
who shall go with ye.”

Then quoth the king, “What say ye,
Lords? I await your counsel!”

[Pg 14]
King Ydier spake. “Sire, none of us
should give ye praise, or speak other than
the best he knoweth. Shamed be he who
should give ye counsel wherein ye may find
no honour. I know full well that the
more part of your folk would gladly go
with ye, but if ye take them, Sire, ’twill
not be for your honour, but believe king
Urien, for he hath given good counsel so I
tell ye of a truth.”

“Certes,” saith Sir Gawain, “he would
be false and foolish who should give other
rede!” And all said, “Let it be as the
king will; let him take those whom he
please, and leave the others in the land.”

“Ye have said well,” said the king;
“now go ye to your lodging, and prepare
to depart, and I will cause to be made
ready a pennon of silk for each of those
whom I shall lead with me.” As he said,
so it was done, and all betook them to
their lodging.

The king forthwith sent the pennons,
and bade them without fail be armed and
ahorse at dawn.

What more shall I tell ye? At sunrise
were all the knights armed, even as the
king commanded, all they who had received
[Pg 15]
the pennons came together ahorse before
the hall.

Now will I tell ye their names: there were
Sir Gawain, king Ydier, Guengasoains, Kay,
and Lucains, the butler. The sixth was
Tors. Then Saigremors, and Mabonagrain,
who was nephew unto king Urien. Eight
have I now named unto ye, counting the
kinsman of king Urien. The ninth was
Lancelot du Lac; the tenth Ider, son of
Nut; the Laid Hardi, the eleventh; with
Doon l’Aiglain have we twelve, all very
courteous knights. Galegantins the
Galois, and the brave Carados Briefbras,
who was a right cheery comrade, made
fourteen, and the fifteenth was the good
Taulas de Rogemont: so many were they,
nor more, nor less.

All ready armed were they before the
hall the while they awaited the king, ere
he came forth armed from his chamber.
Then he mounted his steed, and I tell ye
that, to my knowledge, was never king so
richly armed afore, nor ever hereafter shall
there be such. The queen bare him company
even to the entrance of the palace,
then she turned her back.

Then the king bade his companions
[Pg 16]
march, and they began to move as swiftly
as might be on the highway, but so great
a folk convoyed them that hardly might
they depart or go forth from the burg.
And when the king had ridden three miles
he drew rein in the midst of a meadow,
and there he bade farewell to his folk, who,
sad and sorrowful, gat them back to the
burg. And the king and his fifteen comrades
rode on their way; they passed even through
the land of Britain, so I think me, and
hasted them much to ride quickly.

One day the king, fasting, came forth
from a very great forest, on to a heath of
broom; the sun was hot, and burning, and
the country over large and waste. The
king was so wearied by the heat, in that he
rode fasting, that he had much need of rest,
could he but find a fitting spot. By chance
they found a great tree, where they drew
bridle; beneath was a spring, and for heat
and for weariness they bared their heads
and their hands, and washed their faces and
their mouths. I know well that one and
all had much need of food, but they had
naught with them, and all were sore vexed
for the king, who suffered over much from
the fast.

[Pg 17]
Sir Gawain gazed into the plain, far
below, ’neath the forest, and he showed
unto the seneschal a house of thatch, well
fenced about; “Kay,” quoth he, “methinks
under that roof there must be folk!”

“’Tis true,” said Kay; “I will go and see
if I may find victual, and ye shall await
me here.” With that he departed from
them, and went straightway to the house;
within he found an old woman, but nothing
of what he sought; food was there none.

The crone spake and said, “Sir, so God
help me, for twenty miles round about are
naught but waste lands, know that well,
save only that the king of Meliolant has
built there below ’neath the trees a forest
lodge. He cometh thither ofttimes privately
with his hounds. There, Sir, will
ye be well lodged, an ye find him; from
that tree yonder may ye see the house on
the hill.”

The seneschal straightway went even as
the crone had said, and he saw the dwelling,
right well enclosed with orchards, vineyards
and meadows. Ponds were there, lands,
and fish-tanks, all well fenced about. In
the midst was a tower; ye might ask
no better, no defence was lacking to it.
[Pg 18]
Beholding it the seneschal stayed not, but
passed the roadway, and the gate, and the
chief drawbridge, and thus came to the foot
of the tower. There did he dismount, but
he found no living soul of whom he might
ask concerning the dwelling and who might
be within. Then he entered a hall, very
high and long and wide. On a great
hearth he saw a goodly fire alight, but he
found no man save a dwarf, who was
roasting a fat peacock (’twere hard to find
a better!), well larded, on a spit of apple-wood,
which the dwarf knew right well
how to turn.

Kay came forward quickly, and the
dwarf beheld him with evil countenance.
“Dwarf,” quoth the seneschal, “tell me
if there be any here within save thyself?”
But the wretch would not speak a word.

Kay would have slain him there and
then, if he had not thought to be shamed
thereby, but he knew right well that
twere too great villainy.

“Miserable hunchback,” quoth he, “I
see none here in this house save thee and
this peacock, which I will now have for
my dinner; I will share it as shall seem me
good.”

[Pg 19]
“By the King Who lieth not,” quoth
the dwarf, “ye shall neither eat thereof
yourself nor share it with others; I
counsel you to quit this hostel, or know ye
well, and without doubt, that ye shall be
right shamefully thrust out!”

This vexed Kay mightily, and he
sprang forward to smite him; with his
foot he thrust him against the pillar of the
hearth so that the stone thereof became
bloody. The dwarf bled freely for the
heat, and made loud lament, for he feared
lest he should be slain.

Then on the left the seneschal heard a
door shut-to sharply, and there came forth
a knight, tall and strong, and of proud
countenance, and very fair and goodly to
look upon; he might not be above thirty
years old. He ware a vest of new samite,
furred with ermine for warmth; ’twas not
long, but wide, and of ample folds. Thus
was he well clad and cunningly shod;
and I tell ye truly that he ware a fair
girdle of golden links; no treasury hath a
richer. All uncovered he came forth, in
guise of a man greatly wroth, leading two
greyhounds by a fair leash of silk which
he held in his hand. When he saw that
[Pg 20]
his dwarf bled, he spake, “Ye who be
come all armed into this hall, wherefore
have ye slain this my servant?”

“A curse upon such a servant,” quoth
Kay, “from this day on, for in all the world
is there not one so evil, so small, or so misshapen!”

Then the knight answered, “By all the
saints, but ye say ill, and I challenge ye for
it, fair sir.”

Quoth the seneschal, “Many a goodly
knight have I seen, to the full as noble as ye
may be, and ye be evil and vexatious, even
if I have smitten this servant who roasted
here this peacock, to speak thus concerning
the matter.”

The knight answered frankly, “Sir, ye
speak not courteously, but for God’s sake
I would ask ye a mere nothing, even that
ye vouchsafe to tell me your name.”

Kay spake in great wrath, “I will tell ye
willingly, so help me God I have told it ere
this to five hundred knights better than ye
be; know of a truth that my name is Kay.”

“Certes, sir, I may well believe that ye
speak truly; by your speech alone may one
quickly know ye. This lad refused ye the
peacock; ’tis not the custom of my house
[Pg 21]
that meat be refused to any who may ask
for it; ye shall have your share of the peacock,
and that right swiftly, so God help
me!” With that he seized the spit, and
raised it aloft, and with great strength and
force smote Sir Kay therewith, so that he
well nigh slew him, and know that he
smote him on the neck so that he must
needs fall, he had no foot so firm that it
might keep him upright. And as the
peacock burst asunder, the hot blood thereof
ran between the links of his hauberk in
such wise that Sir Kay bare the mark
thereof all the days of his life. Then the
knight threw the peacock to his two
hounds, and spake, “Sir Kay, rise, that be
your share, ye shall have no more; now get
out of my sight quickly, I am over wroth
when I behold ye!”

With that came quickly two sergeants,
fully armed, and led the seneschal forth
from the hall. He mounted his steed, and
turned him back, passing the bridge and
the plain, and came to where the king had
dismounted.

Then his comrades asked him, “Seneschal,
have ye found nothing of that which
ye went to seek?”

[Pg 22]
“Not I, my lords; ’tis a right evil land
here wherein to seek for food; it behoveth
us to ride far, for here may we find nor
hostelry, nor victual—so hath it been told
to me.”

Quoth Sir Gawain, laughing, “Certes,
he with whom ye spake lives by meat,
even as we; without meat might he
not dwell in this great and well wooded
land.”

“By my faith, no,” answered Kay, “but
I tell ye truly, ’tis so proud a vassal that
for naught that we may say will he give us
shelter.”

The king said, “Then is he right discourteous,
and I counsel that we send
Gawain to him. Fair nephew, go, and we
will wait ye here.”

Sir Gawain mounted forthwith. What
more shall I tell ye save that he came
straight to the dwelling, and when the
knight saw him he made marvellous joy of
him, and asked his name, and he answered
that men called him Gawain, and straightway
the knight knew him.

Then he told him his errand, saying,
“The king is not far distant, and would
fain lodge with ye.” This was well
[Pg 23]
pleasing to the knight, and he said, “Fair
Sir, go, bring the king hither.”

Then Sir Gawain rode swiftly back, and
brought Arthur with him to the hostel; but
ere they might enter all the waters were
set free and the fountains ’gan to play.
For joy and in honour of the king the
knight had assembled all his folk, and
received him with very great honour, and
led him into the tower. The hounds were
yet there, devouring the flesh of the peacock.
The king looked at Taulas, and quoth,
“Body of Saint Thomas, these two hounds
have fared better than we to-day!” The
knight heard, and laughed to himself.
Kay saw that, but said naught.

From thence they passed into the hall,
and when they had disarmed the meat was
made ready, the knight bade bring white
napkins, and pasties. After dinner he
made them wash their heads, and their
necks, and their feet, which were sorely
bruised. Then he caused them to rest in
fair beds, covered with cloth of samite, and
they slept even to the morrow without
stirring. But when they were awakened
the host had prepared for them a right
plenteous meal, this he did of his good will.
[Pg 24]
They sat them down joyfully, and were
richly served. I would weary ye if I told
all the dishes. The knights made much
mirth of the seneschal’s burn, for the
dwarf would not keep the tale secret from
them, but began to speak thereof. Never
would it have been known through Kay,
if the dwarf had not brought it to mind,
for he was over bent on hiding it, and the
host even more than he; all that night his
comrades mocked and made sport of him
even till they betook them to rest.

Next morn, without delay, the king arose
at daybreak, and likewise did all the
others, and armed themselves. Then the
king thanked his host for the good lodging
he had given them.

Why should I make long telling thereof?
The king saith, “Hide not from me how
ye be called.”

“Sire, my name is Ydier the fair, and,
Sire, this castle is mine own.”

Then Ydier prayed the king that of his
kindness he would take him with him, but
Arthur said he might not lead with him
other save those whom he had brought from
his own land; and he took leave of the
knight since he might no longer abide in his
[Pg 25]
hostelry, and went forth with his companions.

The tale is here over long, but I will
shorten it for ye. Two days did they ride
without food, for they might not sooner
find place where they might win food or
seek lodging. Thus must they needs ride
till they came to the Orchard of the
Sepulchres, where adventures be found oft
and perilous. There they ate with the
hermits, of whom there were a hundred and
more. Here ’tis not fitting to tell of the
marvels of the cemetery, so diverse they be,
and so great that there is no man living on
earth who could think, or believe, that the
tale be true. Since ’twas made and established
never has the tale been told whence
came those graves, nor the custom which
the hermits observed; to my mind ’twould
take too long did I tell it ye ere the fitting
time and place be come. But this will I
tell ye of a truth, when the king had sojourned
two days, and beheld the Orchard,
on the third, after meat, he departed, and
took the road once more.

On the morrow he came to a wondrous
fair land; small need to seek a richer in
meadows, forests, or orchards planted with
[Pg 26]
rare and diverse trees. In the forest ways
the grass grew green and tall, reaching even
to the horses’ girths. Towards even-tide
they came to a trodden way, where the tall
grass was beaten to earth, and trampled
down by horses, even for the length of a
bowshot. “A hundred and more have
passed this way,” quoth the king’s men.

Sir Gawain spake to the king, “Fair
Sire, follow me gently with these my comrades
on this wide road. I will ride on
ahead, and seek out, and ask whether there
be near at hand hostel where we may lodge
this night, for of lodging have we great
need. Yet, Sire, I pray that ye leave not
the road for word of any.”

With that he set spurs to his steed, and
rode swiftly on his way; nor had he ridden
long ere he was free of the forest, and saw
before him a hill, and a company of well-nigh
a hundred horsemen, who rode in
knightly guise; ’twas on their track he followed.

Sir Gawain pressed on his steed, but
when he had crossed the valley and
mounted the hill there was never a man in
sight. But he saw before him a castle;
none so fair had he beheld afore, which
[Pg 27]
stood on the bank of a broad river; ’twould
take me over long to tell the fashion thereof,
but this and no more will I say, ’twas
the fairest ever seen.

Then Sir Gawain looked toward the
river, and beheld two maidens, in very fair
vesture of purple, bearing pitchers of fine
gold, wherein they had drawn water, and
he quoth, “Maidens, God save ye, and
give ye good speed!” and they answered,
as was fitting, “Fair sir, God bless ye!”

“Maidens, by the faith ye owe me answer
me, and hide it not, what bear ye in those
pitchers?”

Quoth the one, “No need have we to
hide aught; ’tis but water, wherewith the
good knight shall wash his hands.”

“Of a faith,” quoth Sir Gawain, “courteously
have ye named him; great honour
is there in such a name!”

The second maiden answered, “Sir,
she hath spoken truth; ye will not lightly
find a fairer, or a better, knight. See, but
now doth he enter within his burg.”

Then Sir Gawain hasted, and spake no
more with the maidens, but rode over the
bridge, and entered the castle by the gateway.
Since the hour of his birth never
[Pg 28]
had he seen one so fair, nor, I think me, so
long as he live shall he see a fairer. All
the way by which he passed was hung with
curtains richly wrought, whereat he marvelled
strangely. ’Twas closed all along
with fair buildings of diverse fashions. In
long rows adown the street Sir Gawain
beheld rich booths of changers, wherein on
many-coloured carpets were set forth vessels
of gold and silver (no treasury ever held
richer), cups, tankards, and dishes, the
fairest ever seen, with money of all lands:
esterlins, besants, deniers of Africa, and
treasure trove. Every kind of money was
there, and much the good knight marvelled
thereat.

Stuffs there were too, of all colours, the
cost whereof was past his telling. All the
doors stood open; but one thing troubled
Sir Gawain sore: there was never a living
soul to be seen.

Then he said within himself, “Of a
sooth, for love and kindness do they bear
their lord, who but now hath entered the
burg, company to the little castle yonder.”
Thus he went his way straight to that castle,
and came within a goodly hall, both high
and wide, and in length equal to a bowshot.
[Pg 29]
On every daïs a linen cloth was spread, and
sure never king nor count might eat off
fairer or better wrought. All was made
ready for meat, and the bread and wine set
in readiness on the tables; but never a living
soul was there. In a side chamber he
beheld on grails of silver more than a hundred
boars’ heads, with pepper beside them,
dressed for the serving. Sir Gawain beheld,
and crossed himself with lifted hand, but
would no longer abide, finding no man
with whom he might have speech.

He turned him again through the castle,
thinking to find at the bridgehead the
maidens of whom I told but now, whom
he had left bearing the water in golden
pitchers, but nowhere might he find them,
and it vexed him sore that he saw them
not, since he thought within himself that
they would surely have told him the truth
concerning their lord, whom he had seen
but now enter the burg.

Much he mused thereon, repenting him
that he had not longer spoken with them,
but now would he make no more abiding,
but set him speedily on his way, to meet
the king. Nor did he draw bridle till he
came unto him.

[Pg 30]
“Fair nephew,” quoth Arthur, “shall
we to-day find hostel where we may take
rest, for we have sore need thereof?”

“Fair Sire, be at rest; food shall ye have
now,” answered Sir Gawain.

“’Tis a good word,” quoth Kay; “right
gladly will I serve the first course unto the
king, and to my comrades after!”

“Kay,” saith Sir Gawain “not for all
the world might ye guess the marvels I have
found!” Then he told unto them the
adventure, even as it had fallen out, the
while he guided them to the burg. As
they rode adown the street the king
marvelled greatly at the riches he beheld,
and Kay spake a courteous word,

Thus came they all into the inner burg,
and, still ahorse, into the great hall, but they
found no man to whom they might speak,
or to whose care they might give their
steeds. Then they said to each other,
“’Twere ill to let them fast,” and the king
spake, “I counsel that after supper we go
forth into yonder fair meadow.”

This they held for good rede, and
[Pg 31]
dismounted, making fast their steeds to the
stag’s antlers on the wall. Then they
washed their faces and their hands in a bowl
of silver, and the king sat himself down
first, and his knights after.

With no delay Kay set the first course
before the king; ’twas a great boar’s head,
and he bare it joyfully, and thereafter swiftly
served the rest, saying an any found cause
for plaint, there was no lack, he could have
at his will. “The food hath cost me
naught and I give it freely; nay, of a verity
we might, an we were so minded, feed our
steeds on boars’ heads; this is no niggard
hostelry! See ye the fair couches in yonder
chamber?” And he pointed to an open
doorway.

Sir Gawain looked, and saw a shield
hanging on the wall, and within the shield
yet stood the fragment of a mighty lance,
with a silken pennon hanging from it. I
tell ye of a truth, so soon as he was ware
thereof the blood stirred in his veins; he
spake no word, but swiftly as might be he
sprang up from meat, casting aside the
knife he held, and gat him to his steed, and
girthed him tightly, and set his helmet on
his head, and sat him down again on a
[Pg 32]
bench near by the daïs, his shield beside
him.

The king marvelled greatly, and the
knights said the one to the other, “Ha, God,
what aileth Sir Gawain?” Each would
fain know wherefore he had armed himself
thus swiftly; they thought of a surety his
head had grown light through over much
fasting and the great heat of the day.
They were sore dismayed thereat, for they
had seen and heard naught that might give
occasion for arming, and they might not
guess the cause.

The king spake simply, “Fair nephew,
say, wherefore have ye ceased to eat? And
wherefore thus arm in haste? Ye make
us much to marvel; tell me, I pray, doth
aught ail ye?”

“Naught, Sire, save that I pray ye to eat
quickly, an ye love me!”

“How,” quoth Arthur, “without ye, who
have fasted even as we? Methinks that
were ill done!”

“By God and Saint Thomas, to eat here
will profit me naught; ye are wrong, Sire!”
Thus answered Sir Gawain, swearing that
for naught in the world would he eat in
this hostelry, neither might he be joyful or
[Pg 33]
at ease so long as they abode therein. “But
I pray ye, Sire, hasten and eat.”

Then the king in the hearing of all
sware straitly by Him who lieth not, that
he would eat naught till that he knew
wherefore his nephew had thus donned his
helmet.

“Sire,” quoth Sir Gawain, “ill and
falsely should I have wrought if for the
telling of so slight a matter I should make
ye fast this day; certes I will tell ye, and
lie not. Ye know well how five years
agone ye led an army great and strong
against the city of Branlant; many a king,
many a baron, with twenty thousand men
all told, with ye laid siege to the city.
Within were many of great valour to aid the
lord who held the seignorie of that land.
One morn, at break of day, they made a
sortie on our host; the cry and clamour
were so great that I took no leisure to arm
me, but mounted my steed and rode forth,
even as I was, to learn the cause of the
tumult, bearing with me but shield and
lance. Thus I rode forth from the camp,
and came straightway on the men of the
city, who were hasting to return with their
spoil. I followed them, wherein I did
[Pg 34]
foolishly, since I came near to lose my life
thereby, for I was wounded by a spear in
the shoulder, as ye know, so that I was like
to die, and must needs lie sick four months
and more ere that I was whole and sound.

“One morning, as I lay in my tent, I
bade them raise the hangings around that I
might look on the land, and I beheld one
of my squires, mounted on the Gringalet,
making his way from the stream where he
had watered the steed. I called him, and
he came to me, and I bade him without
delay saddle the good horse, and he did my
bidding. I clad me swiftly the while, and
bade them bring me my armour secretly,
and when I had armed me I mounted, and
rode alone out of the camp. Fair Sire, ye
followed me, ere I came beyond the tents,
praying me straitly to return, but I entreated
ye gently that since I had lain overlong
sick ye would grant me to go forth into
the fields to disport myself, and to test if I
were in very truth healed of my wound,
promising to return speedily to camp. By
this covenant, Sire, ye granted me to ride
forth.

“Thus I went my way till I came to a
leafy grove, beset with flowers, and abounding
[Pg 35]
in birds, which sang loud and clear. I
stayed my steed to hearken, and for the
sweetness of the song my heart grew light,
and I felt nor pain nor ill. Then I set spurs
to my steed, and galloped adown the glade.
I found myself hale and strong, and feared
no longer for my wound.

“Thus I hearkened to the sweet song of
the birds till that I forgat myself, and passed
a second grove, and a third, and a fourth,
ere that I bethought me of returning. Thus
I rode till I came to a clearing fair and wide,
where I saw beside a fountain a pavilion,
richly fashioned. I rode even to the doorway,
and looked within, and there on a
couch I beheld so wondrous fair a maiden
that I was abashed for her great beauty.
Sire, I dismounted, and fastened my steed
without the tent and entered and saluted
the maiden; but, Sire, first she greeted Sir
Gawain ere that she made answer to me.

“Then I asked her wherefore she did thus,
and she answered that she held Sir Gawain
in honour above all knights, and therefore
she first gave him greeting. And when I
heard this I spake saying that I was indeed
Sir Gawain, and her most true knight, but
scarce would the maiden believe me. I
[Pg 36]
must needs unhelm, and from an inner
chamber she brought forth a silken ribbon,
whereon a Saracen maiden of the queen’s
household had wrought my semblance.
And when she had looked thereon, and
beheld me disarmed, and knew of a verity
that I was he whom she desired, then she
threw her arms around me, and kissed me
more than a hundred times, saying that she
was mine even as long as she might live.

“Then I took that fair gift right joyfully,
and we spake together long, and had our
will the one of the other. And this I tell
ye that ere we parted I sware to her that
other love would I never have. Then when I
had armed me again, and mounted my steed,
I took leave of the maid right lovingly, and
turned me again for the camp, joyful of
this my fair adventure.

“Thus I rode swiftly through one grove,
but had gone scarce a bowshot beyond
when a knight came fast behind me,
marvellous well armed, and bearing a
lance with a fair pennon. He cried loudly
upon me, ‘Traitor, ye may go no further;
ye must pay dearly for my brother, whom
ye slew, and for this my daughter, whom
ye have now dishonoured.’ Then I
[Pg 37]
answered him, ‘Sir Knight, ye might
speak more courteously, for I have done ye
neither shame nor evil; an I had, I were
ready to give ye what amends might seem
good to ye and to my lady; treason have I
not done.’

“With that I set spurs to my steed, and
he likewise, and we came fast the one
against the other, and his lance was
shivered on my shield, but my blade
pierced him through shield and hauberk,
so that he fell to the ground sore wounded.
Sire, I pray ye eat, for an I tell ye more it
may turn to evil.” And the king quoth,
“Nephew, say on speedily, and delay not.”

Then spake Sir Gawain, “Sire, I left
the knight lying, and went my way, but
ere I had gone far I heard one cry upon
me, ‘Traitor, stay; ye must pay for my
uncle and this my father, whom ye have
wrongfully slain, and for my sister, whom
ye have dishonoured!’ Then I stayed
my steed, and prayed him to speak more
courteously, for that I was ready to make
amends an I had done wrong, but that I
was no traitor.

“Then we set ourselves to joust, and I
tell ye, Sire, we came so hard together that
[Pg 38]
we were borne both of us to the earth.
Then we betook us to our swords, and
dealt many a blow the one to the other;
but in the end, in that I was scarce healed
of my wound, he dealt me more harm
than I might deal him; in this I lie not, I
was well-nigh worn down, and put to the
worse. Then I bethought me, Sire, and
prayed him to tell me his name since I
was fain to know it; and he told me he
was Bran de Lis. Ider de Lis, the good
and valiant, was his father, and Melians de
Lis his uncle, and he said did I get the
better of him, then had I slain the three
best knights in any land, yet he deemed
well, an God would help him, that he
might even avenge the twain; for he quoth,
‘I know well that a combat betwixt us
may not endure over long, but that one of
us must needs be slain.’ And I answered,
‘Sir, let us do otherwise, for an ye put me
to the worse but few will believe the tale,
for in this land it were not lightly held
that any man may vanquish me. Methinks
’twere better that our combat be fought in
the sight of many, who shall bear true
witness as to the which of us comes off
the better.’ Thus, Sire, we made
[Pg 39]
covenant together by token that in what
place soever he should find me, whether
armed or unarmed, there we should fight.
This we sware, the one to the other. By
the love I bear ye, Sire, never since that
day have I heard aught of him in any land
where I might be. Thus was our combat
ended, as I tell ye, and of a truth I saw
him no more.

“But even now, Sire, as I sat at meat,
from which I arose in wrath and misease
(willingly would I have eaten an I might),
this is what chanced: I saw in yonder
chamber the selfsame shield which Bran
de Lis bare the day we did combat together;
full well I remember it, and there it
hangeth on the wall. Fair lord king, an
God help me ’tis no lie; there in the
shield standeth fast my pennon, and a
great splinter of my lance; by that token,
Sire, Bran de Lis doth haunt this country,
since his shield be here. Therefore am I
vexed and wrathful, and therefore I arose
from meat, since I feared to be taken at a
loss; in sooth, I somewhat fear him, for so
good a knight I never saw! Sire, now
have I told ye the truth, and wherefore I
have donned my helmet, ye need press me
[Pg 40]
no further, since not for the kingdom of
Logres would I be found unarmed in such
place as he may be. Fair Sire, I pray ye
hasten, otherwise, an there be long abiding,
I may chance to pay over dear for my meat.”

Quoth the king, “Fair nephew, sit ye
down again, nor have fear of any foe. He
cometh not.”

But Sir Gawain answered, “Sire, for
naught that ye may say will I eat in this
hostel!”

“So be it,” quoth the king, “an ye
will do naught for my prayer.” With
that all the others betook them to meat in
good fellowship.

After no long time they beheld a little
brachet, which ran out from a side
chamber and came into the hall. A long
leash trailed behind it, and round its neck
was a collar of gold, wherein were many
precious stones, red, and green as ivy leaves.
The brachet was white as snow, and
smoother than any ermine. I tell ye of a
truth ’twas not ugly, but very fair and
well shapen, and the king gazed long at it.
It barked loudly at the knights on the daïs,
and made small joy of them, I tell ye.
Then Kay the seneschal coveted it, and
[Pg 41]
spake to the king, “Sire, I will keep this
brachet, and take it hence, an ye grant me
this gift; ’twill be a comrade for Huden.”
And the king said, “Take it, seneschal,
and bear it hence.”

With that the brachet turned tail, and
Kay with no delay sprang up and thought
to seize it, but the dog would not await
him, but fled on through a chamber
wrought in marble, and the leash which
was long fell about the feet of Kay, who
would fain have caught it but might not
come at it. Might he set foot on the
leash he could have held it, but he failed to
catch it.

Thus the chase went from chamber to
chamber till five were passed, and the
seneschal came into a fair garden set with
olive trees and pines, wherein were more
folk than in a city. They were playing
at diverse games, and making such joy and
festivity as ’twere overlong to recount, for
that day they were keeping the feast of a
saint of that land.

Beneath the shade of a laurel in the
midst of an orchard a knight was disarming;
tall he was and strong, valiant and proud,
and to serve him and honour him the best
[Pg 42]
and most renowned of the folk stood and
knelt around waiting on his disarming.
The brachet which Kay was chasing stayed
not till it came to the knight, and took shelter
betwixt his legs, barking loudly at the
pursuer.

Kay stayed his steps, abashed at the
sight and sound of this folk, and thought
to return swiftly, and with no delay; but
the knight looked on his people and said,
“There is a stranger among us, whoever
he may be!” Then beholding Kay, who
would turn him again whence he came, he
spake, “See him there, take him, and bring
him hither!”

This they did swiftly, and brought Kay
before him, and when the knight beheld
him he said joyfully, “Sir Kay, ye are
right welcome as my friend and comrade;
where is the king, your master?”

“Sir, he is within, on the daïs, and with
him many a valiant knight; they are even
now at meat!”

“And is the king’s nephew, Gawain,
there? Fain would I be assured thereof.”
And Kay answered, “The best knight in
the world is in the king’s company; without
him would he go nowhither!”

[Pg 43]
Now when the knight heard this he was
like to fly for joy. Half armed as he was he
sprang to his feet, and for very gladness
stayed not to finish his disarming. A rich
mantle had they hung on his shoulders,
but the neck was yet unfastened, nor
would he tarry to clasp it, for haste and
joy. And know that one leg was still
shod with iron, which hung downward,
half unlaced, nor would he stay to rid
himself thereof. Thus he sped in all haste
to the hall, and his folk after him, and
without slacking speed he ran into the hall,
followed by so great a crowd that the king
was sore abashed when he heard the
tumult.

The knight went forward even to the
daïs, and saluted the king courteously, and
commanded the folk to bring torches, for
’twas scarce light therein, and they did at
his pleasures, and he bade bring other
meats, so that Arthur, the valiant and
courteous, was well served as befitting a
king.

The knight was very joyous, and quoth,
“Sire, now hath God done me great
honour, for never before might I do ye
service; now am I right glad and joyful
[Pg 44]
that ye be lodged here! I have greeted ye
in all fair friendship without thought of ill,
ye and this goodly company, save one
whom as yet I see not!”

With that there entered men bearing
torches and tapers, so that the hall, which
before was dark and dim, became light and
clear. The folk who had come thither
that they might look upon the king, of
whom they had oft heard tell, made such
haste to see him that there was no space to
sit down, and all the palace was but a sea
of heads.

The lord was sore vexed. He held in his
hand a little round staff, short and heavy,
and being chafed with anger in that he saw
not Sir Gawain, and knew not where he
might be, began laying about him to part
the crowd, making them by force to mount
on the daïs, and sills of the windows, and
buttresses of the walls, since he might not
drive them from the hall.

When Sir Gawain saw that the folk was
thus parted asunder, without delaying he
mounted him on his steed. Then first the
lord of the castle beheld him, and was sore
vexed that he had not come upon him disarmed.
Scowling for very anger, he threw
[Pg 45]
his staff aside, and when he had somewhat
bethought him he lifted his head, and gat
him to Sir Gawain, and laid hold of his
bridle, saying, “Fair sir, hearken, are ye
ready to keep the covenant ye made with
me? It vexeth me that ye are so far quit
that I have failed to find ye disarmed, as I
fain had done; I had better have been
slain the day I made this compact, for then,
verily, ye too had died, had I not granted
the respite, but now I deem our battle shall
last the longer!”

Sir Gawain straightway granted him his
battle, and the knight bade bring more
torches, for the stars already shone forth.
Then they brought them in great plenty,
and he told off folk to hold them by the
fist full, so that one might see far and near,
as clearly as might be. Then the lord of
the castle seated himself in the midst of the
hall, on a great carpet, which a squire
spread swiftly at his bidding, and he bade
them bring thither all that was needful to
the rightful arming of a knight desirous of
battle rather than of aught beside. He
donned a greave of iron, and relaced that
which hung loose; then he bade them bring
armpieces, and he laced them on his arms,
[Pg 46]
and when he had done this he came before
the king and said, “Eat joyfully, and be
not dismayed; behold me, that I am strong
and bold, hale and swift. Your nephew
on his part is even as I am; I know not if
he hath told ye how the matter be come
to this point that the one of us must needs
die ere we be parted. ’Twere hard to think
this morn that the one of us was so nigh
unto his end!”

Then the king’s eyes filled with tears,
and the knight, beholding, spake in his
pride: “Certes, Sire, I prize ye less than
afore; ye are but half-hearted who are thus
compassionate for naught; by all the Saints
in the calendar, ye be like unto him who
crieth out afore he be hurt! Never before
did I set eyes on a king who wept, and
knew not wherefore! By my faith, this
cometh of a cowardly heart!”

He turned him again without further
word, and armed him swiftly, and did on his
harness, and when he was armed he
mounted his steed, and bade bring a lance,
stout and strong, with shining blade. Then
he hung his shield on his neck by a
broidered band, and settled him well in his
saddle, and called unto Sir Gawain, and
[Pg 47]
quoth, “Here in this house is the lordship
mine by right of heritage, yet would I do
no outrage nor take vantage thereof; the
rather do I bid and conjure ye to take that
part of the hall which seemeth best; now
look well where ye will make your stand.”

Sir Gawain hearkened, but stirred not,
save that he drew somewhat back, and
lowered his lance, and his foe, on his part,
did likewise. I testify of a truth, and tell
ye, that they rode over hard a joust, for as
they came together at their horses’ full speed
the one smote the other so fiercely on the
shield that both alike were split asunder, so
that the sharp blade passed right through,
yet they harmed not the hauberks which
clung close and tight. Thus as they sped
on the lances bent and brake, yet the steeds
stayed not, and the knights who bestrode
them were naught dismayed, but when they
would have passed each other in their course
they came together with such weight of
body and shield, and full front of the
horses, that they smote each other to the
ground, and all four fell on a heap, the
good steeds undermost. But the knights
lightly sprang to their feet, and threw aside
their lances, and drew their good swords,
[Pg 48]
and dealt each the other so mighty a blow
on the shining helm that it was well indented.
The king and they who looked
on were sore anguished and afraid, but the
twain, ’twixt whom there was such enmity,
ran again on each other in such fashion
that, I tell ye and lie not, never was so
fierce a mêlée of two knights beheld.
They made sparks to spring from the
helmet and smote the circlets asunder as
those who make no feint to fight. When
the good swords smote the shields they
made the splinters to fly apace: so eager
was each to put the other to the worse that
they ceased not nor slackened this the first assault
till that both were covered with blood.
Then the heat which vexed them mightily
made them perforce draw asunder, to recover
breath. Too heavy and too sore had
been their combat for those who loved them
to behold; never day of his life had King
Arthur so feared for his nephew.

Now at the head of the master daïs was
a door, opening into an inner chamber, and,
as the tale telleth, in a little space there
came forth a damosel, so fair of face and
form that Christendom might not show
her peer. She was clad in fair and fitting
[Pg 49]
fashion, in a vesture richly broidered in gold,
and had seen, perchance, some twenty
summers. She was so fair, so tall and
gracious, that no woman born might equal
her, and all marvelled at her beauty.

She leant awhile on the head of the daïs,
beholding the two knights, who strove hard
to slay each the other. They had returned
to the onslaught in such pride and wrath
that verily I tell ye they might not long
endure. Such blows they dealt on helm
and shield with their naked blades that they
made the splinters fly, and the crimson
blood welled from their wounds and
streamed through the mail of their hauberk
down on to the pavement. Nor was the
fight equal, for Sir Gawain had broken the
laces of his helm, so that ’twas no longer
on his head, but lay on the ground at his
feet. Yet he covered himself full well
with his shield, as one who was no child
in sword play. But his foeman pressed him
sore, and oft he smote him with hard and
angry blows; Sir Gawain defended himself
right valiantly, but it went too ill with him
in that he had lost his helm, therefore as
much as might be he held himself on the
defensive. But once, as he made attack,
[Pg 50]
Bran de Lis smote him so fierce and heavy
a blow at his head that, but that it fell first
on the shield, it had then and there ended
the matter, and all said that without fail
he had been a dead man. Bran de Lis
spake wrathfully, “Take this blow for
mine uncle; ye shall have one anon for my
father; if I may, it shall be the last!”

Sir Gawain struck back, but he was sore
hindered by the blood which ran down
into his eyes (’twas that which vexed him
the most); he would fain have drawn him
back, but Bran de Lis left him no space, so
wrathfully did he run upon him, and Sir
Gawain withstood him sturdily, yet so
hardly was he pressed that whether he
would or no he must needs yield ground.

Then the damosel of whom I spake but
now turned her, and ran swiftly into the
inner chamber, and in a short space came
forth with a little child, whom she set upon
the daïs. He wore a little coat of red samite,
furred with ermine, cut to his measure; and
of his age no fairer child might be seen.
His face was oval and fair, his eyes bright
and laughing; he was marvellous tall and
strong for his age, which might not be more
than four years; and by the richness of his
[Pg 51]
clothing ’twas clear that there were those
who held him dear.

The knights who fought below still dealt
each other such mighty blows that all who
beheld them had dole and wrath. I can
tell ye each was weak and weary enow,
but verily Sir Gawain had yielded ground
somewhat, and would fain have wiped away
the blood which ran adown his face and
into his eyes, but he might in no wise do
so, since Bran de Lis held him so close,
doing what he might to slay or wound
him.

Then without delay the damosel took
her child, there where he stood before her,
and said very softly, “Fair little son, go
quickly to yonder tall knight, ’tis thine
uncle, doubt it not, fall at his feet, little
son, and kiss them, and pray for God’s
sake the life of thy father that he slay him
not!”

Straightway she set him on the ground,
and the child ran, and clasped his uncle by
the right leg, and kissed his foot, and said,
“My mother prays ye for the love of God,
that ye slay not my father, fair sweet uncle;
she will die of grief an ye do!”

Great pity fell upon the king when he
[Pg 52]
heard the child speak thus, and all who
hearkened and beheld were filled with
wrath and anguish. All had compassion
on the child, save Bran de Lis alone, for he
quoth in wrath and anger, “Get thee hence,
son of a light woman!” and he withdrew
his foot so swiftly from the child’s clasp that,
whether he would or no, he fell, and smote
face and forehead hard on the stone of the
pavement, so that he grazed mouth and face,
and lay senseless and bleeding on the floor.

Then King Arthur sprang from the daïs,
and caught the child to him, and kissed it
twenty times on face and eyes and mouth,
and wept for very anger; nor for the blood
on the child’s face would he cease to caress
it, so great love had he towards it, for he
thought of a truth that he held again
Gawain, whom he now counted for lost.
He quoth, “Sir Bran de Lis, this little child
is very fair; never in your life did ye do
such villainy as to go near to slay so sweet
a child, nor ought ye to have denied the
request he made, for he asked naught outrageous.
Nor will I have him slain, for he
is my joy and my solace; henceforward
know well that for naught will I leave him
in your care!”

[Pg 53]
Quoth Bran de Lis, “Sire, ye are less
courteous than I had heard tell, and ye make
overmuch dole and plaint for the life of a
single knight; ye should not so be dismayed,
this is naught but feebleness of heart.”

As Bran de Lis thus spake to the king
Sir Gawain wiped off the blood which ran
down his face, and bound up his wounds,
the while he had respite; the king, who
was wise enow, held his foeman the longer
in speech that his nephew might be the
more refreshed, for the strength and valour
of that good knight doubled as midnight
passed. For this was the custom of Sir
Gawain: when as ever midnight had struck
his strength was redoubled and he waxed
in force even until noon.

Now so soon as his strength came again,
and he saw the king, and his love, and
the great folk who beheld them, then a
mighty shame overtook him, and he ran
in wrath on his foe, and assailed him
straitly, but the other yielded not, crying,
“Honour to ye that ye thus seek me!”

Then might ye see them smite blows
great and fierce, with the swords they
wielded, so that they were well nigh
beaten down. Sir Bran de Lis smote a
[Pg 54]
mighty blow, thinking to catch Sir Gawain
on the head, but that good knight, who
knew right well how to cover himself, held
his shield in such wise that the stroke fell
upon it, and split it adown the midst; so
hard had he smitten that the blade entered
even to the hilt, and his body following
the blow he bent him forwards, and ere he
might recover him Sir Gawain smote him
full on the helm, so that the laces brake,
and it flew off adown the hall, leaving the
head bare. And ere Sir Bran de Lis was
well aware he followed up the blow with
one above the ventaille so that he bled
right freely. Now were they again on a
par, so that one might scarce tell the which
of them had the better. In great pride
and wrath they ran each on the other, so
that in short space of time they had lost
overmuch blood. Mightily each strove to
put his foe to the worse, and all who looked
upon them waxed strangely pitiful, and
would fain have parted them asunder had
they dared.

Now might ye have seen that gentle
knight, who full oft had made offering of
good deeds and alms, right well acquit himself,
for so sorely he vexed his foeman that he
[Pg 55]
hacked his shield all to pieces, and he
might no longer hold his ground, but
whether he would or no he must yield
place, and wavered backward adown the
hall. Then he smote him again, so that
he tottered upon his feet, and Sir Gawain
hasted, and threw himself upon him with
such weight of body and of shield that he
well nigh bare him to earth, so he drave
him staggering adown the hall till he fell
against a daïs.

When the damosel saw this she tare her
child from the king’s arms, and ran
swiftly, and threw herself right valiantly
betwixt the two, so that she came nigh to
be cut in pieces, and cried, “Son, pray thy
father that he have pity on thy mother,
and stay his hand ere he slay my brother,
whom I love more than mine own life!”
But the child spake no word, but looked
up at the glancing sword blades, and
laughed blithely. And all were moved to
pity and wrath who saw him anon
bleeding and now laughing for very
joy.

Then Sir Gawain, of right good will,
drew himself aback, but he whom he had
thus hard pressed drave forward at him,
[Pg 56]
like one reft of his senses, and came nigh
to doing him a mischief in that Sir Gawain
was off his guard. Then she who held
the child sprang swiftly betwixt them, and
cried, “Now by God I will see the which
of ye twain will slay him, for he shall
be cloven asunder ere that I take him
hence.”

The swords clashed together aloft, but
wrought no ill, for neither might come at
the other for fear of the child whom they
were loth to harm, and for fear of her who
held him. And the child laughed gaily at
the glancing swords, and stretched up his
hands to his own shadow, which he saw
on the shining blade, and showed it with
his finger to his father when he saw it
come anear, and had fain sprung up and
caught the blades, sharp though they
might be. And many a man wept, and
there arose within the hall a great cry, as
of one voice, “Good lord king, stay the
fight; we will all aid thee thereto, for no
man should longer suffer this!”

Then Arthur sprang up swiftly, and
seized his sword and shield, and came unto
the twain, and parted them asunder,
whether they would or no, and said to the
[Pg 57]
knight ye have heard me praise, “Sir, take
the amends offered, and I tell ye truly I
will add thereto, for I myself will do ye
honour, and become your man, for the
sake of peace.” And all cried with one
voice, “Sir, by God and by the True
Cross, ye shall not refuse this, for the
king has spoken as right valiant man.”
Then the knight held his hand, hearing
that which pleased him.

Thus was peace made, and the battle
parted asunder, and Sir Bran de Lis did
right sagely, for he spake, “Sire, it were nor
right nor reason that ye should become my
man, hence will I do ye true homage, but
for hostage will I ask the knights of the
Round Table, who are the most valiant in
the world; also shall your nephew do other
amends, even as he promised me, in abbey
and nuns, for the repose of my father’s
soul, and ye shall free one hundred serfs
with your own hand.” And the king
answered, “Know of a truth that all shall
be done at my charges.”

Then Bran de Lis did homage to the
king, and kissed him in all good faith, and
then came forward Sir Gawain, and he
humbled himself before him, kneeling at his
[Pg 58]
feet, and praying that he would pardon his
ill will; and Sir Gawain took him by the
hand, and raised him up, and quoth, “I
pardon thee all, and henceforth will I be
your friend in all good faith and courage,
nor will I fail ye for any harm ye may
aforetime have done me.”

Both were sore faint and feeble, and void
of strength by reason of the blood they had
lost, so that scarce might they stand on
their feet without falling to the ground.
They bare them to an inner chamber; never
knight nor maiden entered within a fairer,
for I tell of a truth there was no good herb
in Christendom with which it was not
strewn. ’Twas richly garnished, and four
great tapers, cunningly placed, gave fitting
light. Then leeches searched their wounds
and said there was no need for dismay, for
neither was wounded to the death, and
within fifteen days both might well be
healed, and all were joyful at the tidings.

The king and his barons abode the
fifteen days at the castle of Lys, nor departed
therefrom; in all the world was neither fish
nor fowl, fruit nor venison, of which the
king might not each day eat in plenty if he
so willed. But he was loth to part from
[Pg 59]
Sir Bran de Lis, by reason of the good tales
which he told concerning the folk of the
Castle Orguellous, whereat the king
rejoiced greatly.

“Sire,” quoth Bran de Lis, “I myself will
go with ye, and we will take with us squires
and footmen. My pavilion is large and
fair, and by faith, we will carry that too
along with us; and also a pack of hounds,
the best we may find, for there be thick
forests all around, where we may hunt at
our will, and go a-shooting too, an it please
us, for we shall find great plenty of deer
and other game.”

Sir Gawain took little heed of all he said,
so wholly was he taken up with his lady,
and she forgat him not, but was ever at his
service, at any hour that might please him;
’twas all gladness, and no ill thought.
Nor did Sir Gawain mislike his fair son,
whom he caressed right often. Fain would
he have tarried long time with them. Nor
marvel at that, my masters, for he was there
at ease, and he who hath whatsoever he
may desire doeth ill methinks to make over
haste to change, nor will he make plaint,
since he suffereth nor pain nor ill.

But when the fifteen days came to an
[Pg 60]
end, then did the king bid make ready, for
he had no mind to tarry longer; well I
know ’twas a Tuesday morn that they set
them on their way, and with them went
that good knight, Sir Bran de Lis.

[Pg 63]

Castle Orguellous

FOR seven full days King
Arthur and his men journeyed,
and passed through
many a forest ere they came
into the open land and saw
before their eyes the rich
Castle Orguellous, the
which they had greatly
desired to behold. They
who had gone ahead had
already pitched the king’s pavilion in a
fair meadow nigh unto a grove of branching
olive trees, very fair and full of leaf.
There the king, and they who were with
him, dismounted gladly; they might go no
further, since ’twas well known in the land
that they came to make war on the castle.

They had made no long abiding when
they heard a great bell toll—no man had
ever heard a greater—five leagues around
might the sound be heard, and all the earth
trembled. Then the king asked of him
who knew the customs of the castle wherefore
the bell tolled thus.

Quoth Bran de Lis, “Of a truth, ’tis
that all the country round may know that
[Pg 64]
the castle is besieged, till that the bell be
tolled nor shield nor spear may be set on
the walls, the towers, or battlements.”
As he spake thus they saw to the right
more than five thousand banners wave
from the walls, the towers, and donjon,
and as many shields hung forth from the
battlements. Then they saw issue forth
from the forest on to the plain knights
mounted on palfreys and war-horses, who
made their way by many roads to the
castles; right gladly did the king and his
comrades behold them.

I will not devise unto ye all the fashion
of the castle, I must needs spend overmuch
time thereon, but since the birth of
Christ no man ever saw one more fairly
placed, nor richer, nor better garnished
with tall towers and donjon.

Now was meat made ready in the king’s
tent, and all sat them down to supper in
right merry mood; they said among themselves
that enough knights were entered
into the castle to give work to each and all.
Thus they spake and made sport concerning
those within.

So soon as the king had sat him down
Lucains the butler poured the wine into a
[Pg 65]
golden cup, and spake unto the king, “I
pray the right of the first joust that be ridden
to-morrow morn, for it pertaineth unto
mine office!” Quoth the king, “I were loth
to refuse the first gift prayed of me here
in this land.” “’Tis well said,” quoth the
lord of Lys. And the king said to the
butler, “Go, eat with my nephew,” and he
did so right gladly.

So soon as supper was done, and they
had washed, swiftly they commanded their
arms to be brought, nor will I lie to ye;
thereafter might ye have seen a great
testing, many greaves of iron laced on,
limbs outstretched, feet bent; squires were
bidden don the hauberks that they might
look well to them, and add straps or take
away—all were fain to see that naught was
lacking, but all in fair and knightly order.
Ye never saw a folk thus busy themselves.
They made merry with the king the
while, and prayed of him in sport to say the
day he would allot to each, that their pain
might be the sooner ended. “Nay, lords,”
quoth Arthur, “I would fain keep ye the
longer in dread.” Thus when they had
made sport enow, and it was nightfall,
they drank, and betook them to rest.

[Pg 66]
On the morrow, without delay, they
arose at sunrise, and betook them to a
chapel in a wood, nigh to a meadow where
were buried all the good knights slain before
the castle, whether strangers or men
of the land. And so soon as the priest
had said the Mass of the Holy Ghost, and
the service was ended, they turned them
again, and made ready for meat in the
king’s pavilion, and the king and all his
knights ate together right joyfully. When
they had eaten they arose, and armed
Lucains the butler well and courteously.
The vest he ware under his hauberk was
of purple broidered with gold. Then they
brought him his horse and his shield, and
he mounted right glad and joyful, and they
brought unto him his pennon. Thus he
departed from the king and his comrades,
and set spurs to his steed, and stayed not
till he came unto the field of battle,
whither they betook them and demanded
joust of those of the castle.

Masters, at the four corners of the
meadow were planted four olive trees, to
show the bounds of the field, and he was
held for vanquished who should first pass
the boundary of the olives. Since he had
[Pg 67]
come thither armed, it befell not Lucains
to await long, but short space after he had
entered the field he saw ride proudly forth
from the castle a great knight, mounted on
a roan steed, right well appointed of arms
and accoutrements. He came at full speed
to the meadow, and swiftly, as befitted,
each lowered his lance, and set spurs to his
steed, and rode the one against the other.
Great blows they dealt on each other’s
shield, and the knight smote Lucains so
fiercely that he brake his lance all to shivers,
and the butler smote back in such wise
that he bare him out of the saddle on to
the ground. Then he took the steed, and
turned him, leaving his foeman afoot, and
came gladly and blithely again to the
pavilion. Quoth Bran de Lis, “Certes,
butler, the siege had been raised had ye
brought yon knight captive, nor would ye
have had further travail, for the quest on
which ye came hither had been achieved,
and ere nightfall Sir Giflet had been
delivered up, for yonder is so good a knight
they had gladly made the exchange!”

When the butler heard this he was ill-pleased,
and he tarried no longer at the
pavilion, but leaving the steed gat him
[Pg 68]
back to the meadow, nor turned again for
the king, who many a time called upon
him. Then from the gateway rode forth
a great knight bearing his pennon, and
came spurring into the meadow, and when
the butler saw him he rode against him,
and smote him so fiercely on the shield that
the shaft of apple-wood brake, and the
knight smote him back with so strong a lance
that he bare him to the ground. Lucains
sprang up swiftly, and thought to take the
splinters from his arm without delaying,
but the knight ran upon him fiercely, and
he defended himself as best he might,
though wounded, but since the blade was
yet in him, whether he would or no, he
must needs yield himself prisoner, as one
who might do no more. Thus he yielded
up his sword to the knight, who led him
with him to the castle, but first he drew
out the blade carefully, stanching the blood,
and binding up the wound.

Very wrathful was the king when he
saw his butler thus led thence; then quoth
Sir Gawain, “Certes, an Lucains were
whole I should rejoice in that he is captive,
for now will our comrade Giflet, the brave
and valiant, who hath been there in durance
[Pg 69]
four years, learn such tidings of us as shall
make him glad and joyful. The butler is
a right gallant knight, and it may chance
to any that he be overthrown and wounded.
I have no mind to blame him for such ill
hap.” Sir Bran de Lis answered, “Fair
Sir, an God help me, he hath overthrown
one of their men, and I know no better
among their ten thousand knights.” So
spake Sir Bran de Lis, but for all that was
he somewhat vexed concerning the butler,
in that he had reproached him for not
having taken the knight captive, for he
thought in his heart that for these words
of his, and for naught else, had Lucains
been taken.

Then he came unto the king, and
besought him for the great love he bare
him to grant him the morrow’s joust; but
though he prayed him straitly the king
was loth to yield, but answered that in no
wise would he grant his request save that
he was fain not to anger him by reason of
the true faith that he bare unto him. “So
God help me, fair friend; I have it in my
mind that I were but ill sped did I chance
to lose ye!”

“Sire, think not of that; ’tis ill done to
[Pg 70]
summon evil, an God will this shall
not befall so long as I live; doubt ye not,
Sire, but grant me the fight freely, ere
others ask it!”

Then the king quoth, “Have your desire,
since ye so will.” With that they gat
them to meat in the tent, but that day a
butler was lacking to them.

Into that selfsame chamber where that
good knight, Giflet fis Do, had long lain,
they led Lucains prisoner, and Giflet when
he beheld him failed not to know him, but
sprang up, and embraced him, and asked
straightway, “Tell me, gentle friend, in
what land were ye made captive?” Then
Lucains told him the truth from beginning
to end, how the king had set siege to the
castle, and was lodged without, “And he
hath sworn he will not depart hence, nor
lift the siege, till that he hath freed ye.”
Giflet was right joyful when he heard this,
and he spake again, “Sir Lucains, greatly
do I desire to hear from ye tidings of the
best knights in the world, even the companions
of the Round Table; ’tis over long
since I saw them, or heard speak of them.”
And the butler made answer, “Sir, by all
the Saints in the calendar, such an one is
[Pg 71]
dead, such an one made captive, this and
that knight are hale and whole, and to the
places of the dead many a good knight and
true hath been elect.” And Giflet cried,
“Ah, God, how minished is that goodly
company; I know not the half of them
who yet live!”

Quoth Lucains, “Know of a truth that
all greatly desire to have ye again, nor will
they know joy in their hearts till that ye
be once more of their fellowship.”

At these words they brought them food,
and they washed, and ate, and when ’twas
time they gat them to rest, and passed the
night in great joy of each other’s company.
But the night was short, since Pentecost
was past, and the feast of S. John, when
the days are the longest in the year.

On the morrow the sun rose fine and
fair, for the weather was calm and clear,
and the king arose betimes with his
comrades. First they gat them to the
chapel and heard Mass, and then dinner
was made ready, since to eat ere noon is
healthful for the brain. The dinner was
rich and plentiful, they sat them down
gaily and ate with speed, they had larded
venison (for of deer was there no lack),
[Pg 72]
and so soon as they had dined the
chamberlain armed the lord of Lys right
richly, on a fair flowered carpet, and the
king himself laced his helmet. Then
Sir Bran de Lis mounted and hung the
shield about his neck, and took his lance
whereon was a pennon, and spurred
straight for the meadow, which he knew
full well.

Then from the gates of the castle he
beheld issue forth a knight on a gallant
steed, right fittingly armed, who rode at
full speed to the meadow where Sir Bran
de Lis awaited his coming. And so soon
as each beheld the other they spurred
swiftly forward, and I tell ye of a truth
that they smote each other on the shield
so that their lances brake, and they came
together with such force that they hurled
each other to the ground; but they lay not
there for long, but sprang up anon, and
laid to with their swords, dealing each
other mighty blows on the gleaming
helmets, for the worser of the twain was a
gallant knight. But he of the castle was
sore vexed, in that he was wounded while
Bran de Lis was yet whole, and passing
light on his feet, so that he pressed him
[Pg 73]
sore, in so much that he might not abide
in any place. By force Sir Bran de Lis
brought his foeman to his knees, and ere
he might rise he must perforce yield himself
captive. Thus he led him to the
pavilion, and made gift of him to Arthur,
who received him well, and thanked the
lord of Lis right heartily.

Then the king bade them make a
lodge of boughs, with curtains round about,
whereto they led the wounded knight to
rest, for much need had he of repose.
King Arthur and his men disarmed Sir
Bran de Lis gaily, and he washed himself,
and they made great sport all day long.
And when it came to the freshness of the
evening they went forth to disport themselves;
many a valiant knight sat there,
round about the king, in the shade of an
olive tree.

Then they heard the sound of those
who blew loudly on the horn and played
upon the flageolet; there was no instrument
befitting a watch the music of which
was not to be heard within the castle, and
much joy they made therein. The king
was the more wakeful by night in that he
took pleasure in the fair melody which the
[Pg 74]
watchmen who sounded the horn made in
answering the one the other.

Beside the lord of Lys sat Kay, who
hearkened to the music, nor might he
long keep silence, but must needs speak his
mind. “Sire,” quoth he, “by Saint Denis,
meseemeth the joust be forgotten, for this
eve none hath demanded it; the king hath
neither companion nor peer who hath so far
prayed it, I wot none be desirous thereof!”

“Kay,” quoth the King, “I grant thee
the joust.”

“Sire,” quoth Kay, “by Saint Martin, I
were liever to handle a spit than a spear to-morrow;
I thank ye for naught! Nevertheless,
Sire, an such be your pleasure I will do
it, by the faith I owe to my lord Sir Gawain.”
Then all laughed at Kay’s words, and
when they had made sport enow of him
they gat them back to the tent.

Thus the night passed, and on the morrow
at dawn, ere prime had rung, the king
hearkened Mass, and when they had dined
they armed the seneschal, and he mounted,
and took his shield, and departed from them
swiftly. No sooner had he come to the
meadow when a knight, right well armed,
came forth from the castle, and rode on to
[Pg 75]
the field. They smote each other on the
shields so that they fell to the ground, and
springing up lightly they fell to with their
sharp swords; right dourly they pressed on
each other, and smote sounding blows on
the helms. He of the castle struck wrathfully
at Kay, and the seneschal caught the
blow, and the knight smote again on the
boss of the shield so that the blade brake,
notwithstanding he had so pressed on the
seneschal that he made him by force to pass
the boundary of the four olives, which stood
at the corners of the field.

There the knight stayed him, and turned
him back to his steed which was in the
midst of the meadow, and remounted, and
took Kay’s horse, for he saw well ’twas a
good steed, and led it away, none gainsaying
him. Kay went his way back, and
knew not that he had been deceived, but
deemed he had won the day, though in
sooth he was vanquished.

Then the knights spake unto the king,
“Sire, let us go to meet Kay, and make
merry over him; ’twill be rare sport to
mislead him!” The king was right
willing, so they went in company towards
the seneschal.

[Pg 76]
The king went ahead, as one wise and
courteous, and spake gently, “Kay, hast
thou come from far? Has mischance befallen
thee?” and Kay, who was ever sharp
and ready of tongue, answered, “Sire, let
me be; ye have naught wherewith to reproach
me. I have vanquished one of their
knights, but he hath taken my horse; the
field is mine, for I have conquered it; and
he who hath ridden hence hath the worse!”
All held their peace, and laughed not.

“Sir, are ye in need of help?” quoth
Tor fis Ares. And then the others spake;
“Seneschal, are ye wounded?” “Methinks
ye limp somewhat,” quoth Sir Gawain.

“Kay, hand me your shield,” said Sir
Ywain. “Right valiantly have ye approved
yourself, marvellous were the blows I saw
ye deal! God be thanked that ye did thus
well!” With that he took the shield, and
hung it around his own neck. Each joined
in the sport as best he might, and Kay was
right well aware thereof.

Then he spake to Sir Ywain, “Sir, I
will grant ye to-morrow so much as I have
won to-day, the joust and the field shall ye
have in exchange for my shield which ye
bear. Ye can do well, an ye will, and I
[Pg 77]
were fain to repay ye in such wise as I
may.”

Those who heard might not refrain
their mirth, and in merry mood they led
him to the tent, and disarmed him, and the
lord of Lys said, “Sir Kay, ye passed the
boundary of the four olive trees, and he who
first passes betwixt them is held for vanquished.”
And Kay answered, “May be,
Sir, by the faith I owe the King of Heaven
an ye know the differ ’twixt entry and exit
’tis more than I may do; sure, ’tis all one,
for there where one cometh in the other
goeth out!”

Suddenly there rang forth from the
castle and the minster a peal so great and
glad that ye might scarce hear God thunder,
and the king asked wherefore the bells rang
thus.

Then Bran de Lis spake, “I will tell ye,
Sire: ’tis Saturday to-day, and now that noon
be past they within will do naught against
ye, come what may. In this land is the
Mother of God more honoured than elsewhere
in Christendom; know of a truth
that ye shall presently see knights and ladies,
burgesses and other folk, clad in their
best, betake them to the minster; they go
[Pg 78]
to hear Vespers, and do honour to Our Lady.
Thus it is from noon on Saturday till
Tierce on Monday, when Mass is sung,
and the bells chimed throughout the burg,
then they get them to their tasks again;
the minstrels and other folk. I tell ye
without fail till then shall no joust be ridden;
to-morrow, an ye will, ye may go forth to
hunt in the forest.”

The king praised the custom much, and
spent the night with a light heart until the
morn, when he arose, and with his knights
betook him to the woods, and all day long
the forest rang to the sound of the huntsman’s
horn.

Now it chanced that Sir Gawain beheld
a great stag, which two of his hounds had
severed from the rest of the herd, and he
followed hard after the chase till that the
quarry was pulled down in a clearing.
There he slew and quartered it, and gave
their portion to the dogs, but would take
with him naught save the back and sides.
So he rode on fairly, and without annoy,
the hounds running ahead, till, as he went
his way, he heard nigh at hand a hawk cry
loudly. Then he turned him quickly
towards the sound, and came on to a wide
[Pg 79]
and dusky path, and followed it speedily to
a dwelling, the fairest he had found in any
land wherein he had sojourned.

’Twas set in the midst of a clearing, and
no wish or thought of man might devise
aught that was lacking unto it. There was
a fair hall and a strong tower, ’twas set round
about with palisades, and there was a good
drawbridge over the moat, which was wide
enow, and full of running water. At the
entry of the bridge was a pine-tree, and beneath,
on a fair carpet, sat a knight; never
had ye seen one so tall, or so proud of
bearing.

Sir Gawain rode straight and fast to him,
but he stirred no whit for his coming, but
sat still, frowning and thoughtful. Sir
Gawain marvelled at his stature, and spake
very courteously, “Sir, God save ye!” But
the stranger answered nor loud nor low,
having no mind for speech. Thrice Sir
Gawain greeted him, but he answered not,
and the good knight stayed his steed full
before him, but he made no semblance of
seeing him.

Quoth Sir Gawain, “Ha, God, who
hath made man with Thine own hand,
wherefore didst Thou make this man so fair
[Pg 80]
if he be deaf and dumb? So tall is he, and
so well fashioned he is like unto a giant.
An I had a comrade with me I would lead
him hence, even unto the king; methinks
he would thank me well, for he would look
on him as a marvel!” And he bethought
him that he would even bear the knight
hence with him on his steed. Thus he laid
his venison beneath a tree, and bent him
downwards from his saddlebow, and took
the other by the shoulders, and raised him
a little.

Then the knight clapped hand to his
side, but his sword was lacking, and he cried,
“Who may ye be? It lacked but little and
I had slain ye with my fist, since ye have
snatched me from death; had I my sword
here ’twere red with your blood! Get ye
hence, vassal, and leave me to my death.”

Then he sat him again under the tree,
and fell a-musing, even as when Sir Gawain
found him. And that good knight, without
more ado, reloaded his venison and turned
him back, leaving the knight sad and
sorrowful.

Scarce had Sir Gawain ridden half a
league when he saw coming towards him
a maiden, fair and courteous, on a great
[Pg 81]
Norman palfrey; nor king nor count had
been better horsed. The bridle, the harness,
the trappings of her steed were beyond
price, nor might I tell ye how richly the
maiden was clad. Her vesture was of cloth
of gold, the buttons of Moorish work,
wrought in silk with golden pendants. The
lady smote her steed oft and again, and rode
past Sir Gawain with never a word of
greeting.

Sir Gawain marvelled much at her haste,
and that she had failed to speak with him,
and he turned him about, and rode after,
crying “Stay a little, Lady!” but she
answered not, but made the more haste.

Then Sir Gawain overtook her, and rode
alongside, saying, “Lady, stay, and tell me
whither ye be bound.” Then she made
answer, “Sir, for God’s sake, hinder me not,
for an ye do I tell ye of a truth I shall have
slain the best and the fairest knight in any
castle of Christendom!”

“What,” quoth Sir Gawain, “have ye
slain him with your own hands?”

“I, sir? God forbid, but I made covenant
with him yesterday that I would be with
him ere noon, and now have I failed of my
compact. He awaiteth me at a tower near
[Pg 82]
by, mine own true love, the best knight in
the world!”

“Certes, Lady, he is yet alive, of that
am I true witness; ’twas but now he
well nigh dealt me a buffet with his fist!
Make not such haste!”

“Fair sir, are ye sure and certain?”

“Yea, Lady, but he was sore bemused.”

“Then know of a truth, Sir Knight,
that he may no longer be alive, and I may
not tarry.” With that she struck her
steed and rode off apace. Sir Gawain
gazed after her, and it vexed him much
that he had not asked more concerning the
knight, whence he came, his land and his
name, but knew neither beginning nor
end of his story.

Thus he went on his way, and came
again to the pavilion where his companions
awaited him, sore perplexed at his delay,
and were right joyful when they beheld
him. Then straightway he told them the
adventure, even as it had chanced, and
when the lord of Lys heard it he said unto
the King, “Sire, the knight is the Rich
Soudoier, he who maintaineth all this
goodly following and seignorie; and so
much doth he love the maiden whom he
[Pg 83]
calleth his lady and his love, that all men
say he will die an he win her not.”

As he spake they beheld a great cloud
of dust arise toward the forest, and there
rode past so great a company of folk there
cannot have been less than twenty
thousand; there was left in the city not a
soul who might well stir thence who
went not forth of right good will toward
the forest. ’Twas nigh unto nightfall ere
all had entered therein.

Then the king asked whither all this
folk were bound, and Bran de Lis
answered, “Sire, they go to meet their
lord, and to do him honour, for never before
this hath he led his lady hither. I tell
ye of a truth that each one of his barons will
dub three new knights, to honour and
pleasure him, for so have they sworn, and
for that doth he owe them right good will.”

What more may I tell ye? All night
they held great feast through the city,
with many lights in castle, tower, and hall.
They blazed upon the walls, the trees, and
round about the meadows, till that the
great burg seemed all aflame, and all night
long they heard the sound of song and
loud rejoicing.

[Pg 84]
Then the king betook him to rest, and
at dawn Sir Ywain prayed as gift the joust
which Kay had given unto him. The
king made no gainsaying, but after meat
they armed their comrade well and fittingly,
and he mounted quickly, and took shield and
lance; nor did he long await a foe, for there
rode forth from the castle one well armed,
on a strong and swift steed, and spurred
upon Sir Ywain. He smote him so that
his lance brake, and Sir Ywain smote him
again with such force that he bare him to
earth ere that his lance failed. Then he
rode upon him with unsheathed sword, and
by weight of his steed bare him to earth
when he had fain arisen, and trod him
underfoot so hardly that, whether he would
or no, he must needs yield. Then Sir
Ywain took his pledge, and led him without
more ado to the pavilion, and delivered
him to the king.

Such was the day’s gain, but know that
’twas one of the new made knights, not of
the mesnie of the Rich Soudoier. And
when he was disarmed the king spake unto
him in the hearing of all his men, and said,
“Fair friend, whence do ye come, and of
what land may ye be?”

[Pg 85]
Then he answered, “Sire, I am of Ireland,
and son to the Count Brangelis, and ever have
I served the lady of the Rich Soudoier. She
bade me carve before her, and my lord for
love of her yestermorn made me knight,
and as guerdon for my service they granted
me the joust; yet, but for my lady who
prayed for me this grace, they had not given
it to me, since within the walls there be
many a good man and true who was sore
vexed thereat.”

“Friend,” quoth Sir Gawain, “know ye,
perchance, the which of them shall joust on
the morrow?”

“Certes, Sir, I should know right well;
’tis the lord of the castle himself who shall
be first on the field, and I will tell ye how
I know this. ’Tis the custom therein
that each morn the maidens mount the
walls, and she who first beholds the armed
knight take the field, ’tis her knight who
shall ride forth against him. Yestereven
my lady assembled all the maidens and
prayed of them that they would let her alone
mount the wall—thus shall the joust be as
I tell ye.”

Straightway Sir Gawain sprang to his
feet, and went before the king, and
[Pg 86]
demanded the joust, but Arthur forbade
him saying, “Fair nephew, ye shall not go
to-morrow, but later, ere it be my turn, ’tis
for us twain to ride the last jousts; ye shall
have it when all save I have proved themselves.”

“Sire, Sire, I shall be sore shamed an ye
deny me this gift; never more shall I be
joyful, nor will I ride joust in this land, but
will get me hence alone!”

Quoth the king, “An it be thus ye
may have it.” And Sir Gawain answered,
“I thank ye, Sire.”

Thus they passed the night, and at daybreak,
when the dew lay thick upon the
grass, Sir Gawain arose, and Sir Ywain
with him. Know that the morning was
so fine, so fair and clear, as if ’twere made
to be gazed on. Then he who was no
coward washed face and hands and feet in
the dew, and gat him back to the pavilion.
There they brought him a wadded vest, of
purple, bordered with samite, and he
donned it, and fastened on his armlets
deftly.

And ere he was fully armed the king
his uncle had risen, and they gat them to
Mass, and when Mass was said, to meat.
[Pg 87]
When they had well dined they bade bring
thither the armour, and Sir Gawain sat
him on a rich carpet, spread on the ground
in the midst of the tent, and there was
never a knight but stood around uncovered,
till that he had armed him at his leisure
with all that pertaineth to assault and
defence, so that he had naught to do save
but to set forth.

Then they led unto him his steed, all
covered with a rich trapping, and he
mounted, and sat thereon, so goodly to
look upon that never might ye hear speak
of a fairer knight. Excalibur, his good
sword, did King Arthur hand to him, and
he girt it round him as he sat on the saddle,
lightly, so that it vexed him not. Then he
took shield and lance, and departed from
them, making great speed for the meadow.

Now the adventure telleth that he had
been there but short space when from the
master tower of the castle a horn was
sounded long and clear, so that for a league
around the earth quivered by reason of the
echo of the blast, and Sir Bran de Lis spake
to the king, “Sire, in short space shall ye
see the Rich Soudoier come forth armed on
his steed, for they sound not the horn thus
[Pg 88]
save for his arming. I know well by the
long blast that he laceth on his spurs.”

Then the horn sounded a second time,
and he said, “By my faith, now hath he
donned and laced his greaves.”

For a long space there was silence, and
again the horn rang forth so loudly that all
the castle re-echoed, and the lord of Lys
said, “Sire, now hath he donned his
hauberk and laced his helm.” With that
the horn sounded once again, “Now, Sire,
he is mounted, and the horn will be blown
no more to-day.”

This had the good knight told them
truly, for the burg was all astir: he who
bare lordship therein rode proudly down
from the castle, and after him so many of
his folk that they of the pavilion heard the
sound of their tread, though they might
not behold them. Even to the gate they
bare him company, and as he issued forth
the king’s men beheld him covered with a
silken robe, even to his spurs, his banner
in his hand. Then they saw a great
crowd mount to the battlements to watch
the combat of the twain; the walls were
covered even to the gateways, so that
’twas a marvel to behold.

[Pg 89]
Thus the lord of the castle came proudly
to the meadow where Sir Gawain awaited
him, and when he saw him he gripped his
shield tightly, and made ready for the
onslaught. Then they laid their lances in
rest, and shook forth their blazons, and
smote their spurs into their steeds; nor did
the joust fail, for they came together with
such force of steed and shield and body
that, an they would or no, both came to
the ground in mid meadow and the good
steeds fell over them. But the twain
were full of valour, and arose up lightly,
and drew their swords, and ran boldly
on each other. Then might ye behold a
dour combat, and a sight for many folk,
for with great wrath they dealt each other
mighty blows, so that all who beheld were
astonied, and the king was in sore dread
for his nephew, and they of the castle for
their lord.

From either side many a prayer went up
to Heaven that their champion might
return safe and whole. And the twain
spared not themselves, but each with shining
blade smote the other, so that their strength
waned apace. For know that that day
there was so great a heat that never since
[Pg 90]
hath the like been known, and that heat
vexed and weakened them sore.

Now know ye of a certain truth that my
lord Sir Gawain waxed ever in strength,
doubling his force from midnight, and even
till noon was past and the day waned did
his strength endure, but then he somewhat
weakened till ’twas midnight again. This
I tell ye of a truth, ’twas early morn that
they fought thus in the meadow, and greatly
did this gift aid him, and great evil it
wrought to the Rich Soudoier. Neither
had conquered aught on the other till it
waxed high noon. If the one dealt mighty
blows the other knew right well how to
return them with wrath and vigour; ’twas
hard to say the which were the better, and
all marvelled much that neither was as yet
or slain or put to the worse.

’Twas the Soudoier who first gave ground;
by reason of the over great heat so sore a
thirst seized him that he might no longer
endure the heavy blows, and well nigh fell
to the earth. When Sir Gawain felt his
foe thus weakening he pressed him the more,
till that he staggered on his feet, and Sir
Gawain ran on him with such force that
both fell to the ground. But the king’s
[Pg 91]
nephew sprang to his feet lightly and cried,
“Vassal, yield ye prisoner ere I slay ye!”
but his foe was so dazed that for a space he
might speak no word.

When he gat breath and speech he sighed
forth, “Ah, God, who will slay me? Since
she be dead I care naught for my life.”

Sir Gawain wondered much what the
words might mean, and he shook him by
the vizor, and when he saw that he took no
heed he spake again, “Sir Knight, yield to
me!” And he sighed, “Suddenly was she
slain who was fairest in the world; I loved
her with a passing great love!”

When Sir Gawain saw that he would
answer none otherwise, conjure him as he
might, he cut the laces of his helmet, and
saw that he lay with his eyes closed as one in
a swoon; by reason of the great heat and his
sore thirst he had lost all colour, and was
senseless. Sir Gawain was vexed in that
he might not win from him speech, neither
by word nor by blow, yet was he loth to
slay him; nor would he leave him lying;
for he thought an he slew him he might lose
all he would gain by his victory, and should
he get him back to the pavilion to seek aid
to bear his prisoner hence, on his return he
[Pg 92]
would surely find him gone. Thus was he
much perplexed in mind. Then he doffed
his helm, and sat him down beside the
knight, sheathing Excalibur, and taking the
sword of his foe. In a short space the
Soudoier came again to himself, and seeing
him sit thus, asked of him his name. Then
he answered straightway, and when the
other knew ’twas Gawain, he said, “Sir, now
know I for a certainty that ye be the best
knight in the world.” Then he held his
peace, and spake no further, and Sir Gawain
looked upon him, and said, “Fair Sir Knight,
bear me no ill will for aught ye may have
heard me say, but come with me, an ye will,
to yonder pavilion, and we will take your
pledge.”

Then the Rich Soudoier answered, “I
have a lady I love more than my life, and if
she die then must I needs die too, so soon
as I hear tell thereof. I pray ye, sir, for God’s
sake, for love’s sake, for gentleness, for
courtesy, save me my love that she die not,
by covenant that, whether for right or for
wrong, no man of the Castle Orguellous
shall henceforth be against ye. Fair sir,
an ye will do for me that which I now pray,
I will pledge my faith to do all the king’s
[Pg 93]
will, nor shall there be therein man of arms
whom I will not make swear the same.
But an if my lady knew thereof, as God be
my witness, she would die straightway, for
never would she believe that ye had conquered
me; ’tis truth I tell ye! Now of
your courtesy, Sir Knight, I pray of ye this
great service, that ye come back with me to
the castle, that ye there do me honour, and
kneeling to my lady declare ye her prisoner;
an ye will thus make feint and say I have vanquished
ye in fair field, then shall ye save my
life, and that of my most sweet lady, and if ye
will not do thus, then slay me here and now!”

Then that gentle knight, Sir Gawain,
remembered him of how he had found him
aforetime in the forest beneath the tower,
and how the maiden who rode to keep
tryst feared for his life, and he knew that
he loved his lady with so great a love that
he would die an she knew him to be
shamed, and he thought within himself
’twas over much cruelty to slay so good a
knight, and he answered. “Fair sir,
certes will I go with ye to the Castle
Orguellous, and there yield me captive,
nor will I forbear for any doubt or misgiving.
It might well turn to my shame,
[Pg 94]
but even if I should die thereby, I would
not, Sir Knight, that ye or your lady be
wronged or aggrieved.”

Then the knight spake frankly, “Sir, I
am your liege man all the days of my life.”
And he gave him his hand, and sware
straitly that he would do all the king’s
pleasure. And when Sir Gawain had
taken his oath, straightway the two
mounted their steeds and betook them to
the Castle Orguellous.

Well nigh did King Arthur die of
wrath when he saw his nephew ride hence,
and he cried, “Now am I indeed bereft if
my nephew be led therein; now will they
hold him prisoner! Think ye, my lords,
that he be of a truth captive?”

“Yea, Sire, of a faith, so it seemeth, yet
are we greatly in marvel thereat, for we
know certainly that he had vanquished and
overthrown his adversary. Never so great
an ill hap hath befallen any knight, for
ere the knight of the castle rose we said
surely that he was conquered!”

The king had no heart to hearken
longer, but betook him straightway to his
bed; cause enow had he for woe, or so it
seemed him!

[Pg 95]
But they of the castle sped joyously to
meet their lord, whom they thought to
have lost, and ran to bear the tidings to
the lady, who was well nigh distraught
with grief, and anger, and they told her
that her lord came again. “And he
leadeth by the bridle, as one conquered,
Sir Gawain!”

Even at these words came the knights
unto the gateway, and dismounted, and
Sir Gawain speedily yielded him prisoner
to the maiden, saying, “Lady, take here
my sword, and know of a proven truth
that this good knight, your true lover, hath
vanquished me by force of arms.”

Never since the hour ye were born did
ye see such rejoicing as the maiden made,
and the Rich Soudoier spake, saying,
“Ride ye to my castle of Bouvies with five
hundred knights, and make ready the
chambers. I will be with ye to-morrow,
and would fain sojourn there; we will have
but few folk with us. Marvel not at this,
for to-day have I been over much wearied.”

And the maiden answered, “Ye have
well said; the castle is very fair and pleasant.”
With that she was mounted, and
the knights set forth to convoy her to the
[Pg 96]
castle. And know ye why he sent her
hence? ’Twas that he might tell his
men the truth of what had passed.

When the lady had departed ’twas made
known throughout the castle how the
matter had in very truth fallen out, and the
lord bade release the son of Do, and the
butler, and they did his bidding. But
when Sir Gawain saw Giflet he ran towards
him, and kissed him more than a hundred
times, and made marvellous great joy of him.
Then they sat them down on a bench, side
by side, and held converse together. And
when the twain who had fought were disarmed
they brought for the four very fair
robes of rich and royal cloth; never had ye
seen such. Then the Soudoier bade saddle
four steeds, and they mounted, and rode
thus adown the street.

Thus they four alone took their way to
the pavilion, and the king’s men beheld
them, even as they came forth from the
castle gateway, and Sir Ywain cried, “By
my faith, and no lie, I see four men come
hither, and all four be knights, so it seemeth
me!” And Kay answered, “I see them
too!”

And when they came so near to the
[Pg 97]
pavilion that their faces might be seen, Sir
Ywain ran joyfully to the king. “Sire,
Sire, an God help me, here cometh Sir
Gawain, and with him three others, all
hand in hand: there be the son of Do,
and Sir Lucains, and for the fourth a
great knight!”

The king answered no word, but made
semblance as if he heard not, and rose not
from his couch, save that he raised himself
somewhat higher thereon.

In a little space he spake to his knights,
“Be not over dismayed, but make as fair a
countenance as ye may; methinks they come
thither to bid us return with them to
prison, but I go not hence ere that I be
vanquished, or have freed my comrades.”
And all answered, “Well spoken,
Sire!”

But now had the four come so nigh that
they had dismounted, and come before the
king; never was seen such rejoicing as his
lord made of Giflet, but now was he in sore
distress, and, lo! his sorrow was turned to
joy! Why should I lie to ye? The Rich
Soudoier told him how Sir Gawain had
conquered him, and how, by his courtesy,
he had given life to him and to his fair lady;
[Pg 98]
and the king hearkened to the tale right
willingly.

Now will I leave speaking of them, but
this much will I say, that well might the
lord of the castle love and cherish him who
first overcame him by arms and then did
him so great honour as to yield him to his
lady so that his life might thereby be saved.
So here will I hold my peace, no, nor speak
further, save to tell ye that now was the
king lord alike of the Castle Orguellous
and the lands around; never in all his days
did he make so great a conquest, as Bleheris
doth witness to us.

[Pg 99]

Notes

Page 3.—The knights rode gaily ahead. This episode,
in practically identical form, is found as the introduction
to the head-cutting challenge, of which in Wauchier’s
compilation Carados is the hero. This double use of
the same incident appears to me significant in face of the
fact that the ‘Carados’ story is an inferior version of our
‘Syr Gawayne and the Grene Knyghte.’ It seems to me
most probable that our poem represents an elaborated
version of an adventure which originally formed part of
the compilation utilised by Wauchier in his continuation
of the ‘Perceval,’ and that the passage here given formed
the introductory episode of the group.

Page 5.—At Carnarvon. In some of the texts Carduel
is substituted for Carnarvon.

Page 5.—Galvoie, a land where many a man goeth
astray. For the mysterious character attached to Galvoie
(Galloway), and its connection with the Other-world,
cf. ‘Legend of Sir Perceval,’ pp. 186-192.

Page 7.—When Sir Gawain beheld this. There are two
distinct versions of Arthur’s rebuke to his knights; the
one given in the text is found in B.N. 12576 (the source
of this translation), B.N. 1429, Edinburgh, and Montpellier.
The other version, in which Arthur refuses to
explain what he means, and locks himself in his ‘loge,’
[Pg 100]
the door of which is broken open by his indignant knights,
who insist upon knowing the reason of his accusation,
is found in B.N. 12577; 794; 1453; and Mons. This
latter version seems to me an unintelligent expansion of
that in our text. Arthur’s desire is to incite his knights
to the rescue of their comrade, not to heap unnecessary
insult upon them. The fact that here Ywain is specially
coupled with Gawain should be noted. Ywain is one
of the earliest of Arthurian heroes, appearing in the
chronicles; whenever we find him in a position of
importance there is at least the possibility that we are
dealing with the survival of an early and genuine
Arthurian tradition.

Page 15.—Now will I tell ye their names. The list of
knights taking part in the expedition varies somewhat in
the different texts. It is noteworthy that Lancelot is
occasionally omitted, and that nowhere does he hold a
prominent position. This group of stories was manifestly
composed at a period when that hero was still practically
unknown to Arthurian tradition.

Page 16.—One day the king came forth from a very great
forest. An English version of the adventure which follows
will be found in Sir Frederick Madden’s ‘Syr Gawayne,’
under the title of ‘Kay and the Spit.’

Page 25.—The tale is here over long. Throughout the
whole section devoted by Wauchier to the Gawain in
contradistinction to the Perceval adventures, there are
constant references to the length and importance of the
‘grand conte’ of which they formed a part. There are
numerous ‘Perilous Cemeteries’ in Arthurian romance,
e.g. there is one in the prose Lancelot, which Hector and
Gawain attempt, and are worsted: another in Perlesvaus,
and a third forms the subject of a special poem, ‘L’Atre
Perilleus.’ Of this last Gawain is the hero. There is a
cemetery connected with the adventure of the Chapel of
the Black Hand, and one in the Queste. It is impossible
to determine the tale to which the compiler here alludes.

[Pg 101]
Page 28.—Esterlins, besants, &c. The original is
Esterlins, porpres, e besans, Deniers de muce e d’aufricains.
The correct translation is doubtful. Porpres is a texture,
and seems to be out of place among an enumeration of
coins. ‘Deniers de muce’ is found in no dictionary or
article on coins. Muce may signify a hiding place, hence
the treasure-trove of the translation; or, as M. Paul
Meyer suggests, muce may be an error for murcie, which
would be the equivalent of Spanish, at that period Saracen,
money. Du Cange, under the heading of ‘Africanus,’
gives ‘Moneta Saracenorum.’ It is noteworthy that the
MSS. of later date omit these lines.

Page 29.—Grails of silver. This is the only instance I
know in which the word Grail is used in a general sense,
and it is of value as indicating the meaning which the
writers of that period attached to the word.

Page 38.—Ider de Lis. The father’s name is more
generally given as Norres de Lis. Llys is the Welsh for
castle, and the spelling of the word varies in the texts.
Brandelis is, as a rule, written in one word, and spelt
with an i; when the castle alone is spoken of it is written
Lys. I have endeavoured to indicate this peculiarity in
the translation. Cf. Gawain’s appeal to his uncle to eat,
and Arthur’s refusal, with Arthur and Gorlagon published
by Prof. Kittredge; cf. Folk-Lore, March 1904, where a
translation of this curious tale, with explanatory comment,
is given.

Page 41.—A comrade for Huden. Huden, or Hudenc, is
Tristan’s dog. The reference is interesting, as showing a
knowledge of the Tristan story on the part of the compiler.
That hero, however, plays no part in this group of tales.

Page 48.—There came forth a damosel. The lady’s name
is not given here, but later on she is called Guilorete,
and in other texts Gloriete.

[Pg 102]

II

Page 63.—Castle Orguellous. This adventure, under
the title of ‘Gawain and Golagros,’ will be found in
Madden’s ‘Syr Gawayne,’ but the version is much
condensed. In the English poem Espinogres plays the
rôle here assigned to Bran de Lis, and explains the
customs of the castle.

Page 70.—’Tis ill done to summon evil. The original
gives ‘On ne doit pas mal senechier.’ This latter word
appears to be unknown. I submitted the passage to M.
Paul Meyer, who thinks it may be a fault of the copyist;
at the same time, Godefroi gives the noun senechiance as
equivalent to segnefiance, and a verb may have been
constructed from this. The corresponding passage in B.N.
12577 runs ‘Nul ne doit le mal prononcier.’ In an
article in Folk-Lore for March 1907, Miss Goodrich Freer
quotes a Gaelic proverb, ‘Ill will come if mentioned.’
This seems to be the equivalent of our text.

Page 87.—A horn was sounded. In the English version a
small bell is rung. Much less stress is laid upon the
arming of the knight, which here is a most picturesque
and effective passage.

Page 93.—When that gentle knight Sir Gawain. Gawain’s
extreme courtesy, and the consequent dismay of the king,
are related in much the same terms, but more condensed,
in the English poem. It seems possible that it was this
adventure of the Rich Soudoier which suggested the
figure of Galehault, ‘le haut prince’ in the prose Lancelot.
Both are distinguished for their height, their beauty, and
their opposition to Arthur. Both, alike, became the
King’s friends through the courtesy and feigned submission
of the knights Gawain and Lancelot. The
parallel is worth working out.

Page 98.—As Bleheris doth witness to us. Other forms
of the name are Bleobleheris (B.N. 1453) and Bliobliheri
[Pg 103]
(B.N. Add. 36614). This latter MS. at a later stage of the
same collection again cites Bleheris as authority for the
story of Gawain and the magic shield; he is there said to
have been born and brought up in Wales. He is probably
identical with the Bledhericus mentioned by Giraldus
Cambrensis as a famous story teller, ‘famosus ille
fabulator.’ For a full discussion of the whole question
see my Legend of Sir Perceval.