evil tale!) where he found Sir Gawain's weapons and his good armour. He
stole from Sir Gawain his good sword, that which he placed in its sheath
was not worth twopence; he cut the straps of the harness well nigh in
twain in the midst, and made a great score in the stirrup leathers
so cunningly that no man might see or know aught thereof beneath the
covering of the harness. And the saddle-girths did the traitor so handle
that Sir Gawain was sore grieved there-for ere he had ridden a mile; he
would not that it had so chanced for all King Arthur's kingdom--that
shall ye hear anon.
When the seneschal who had wrought this treason had brought Sir Gawain's
weapons and his horse that had been well cared for that night--they
deemed it should be theirs ere long, 'twas a strong steed and well
standing, and since they thought to have their pleasure of it they
gave it provender enow--the host bade them undo the door and hold Sir
Gawain's steed there without. The harness was in place, whereof I have
told ye that it was so traitorously handled; then came forth the knight,
who had arisen, and clad himself in fair robes, and descended the
stairway. Little thought had he of the treason which in short while
befell him. The seneschal held in his hand the false sword, well hidden
in its sheath, and the while Sir Gawain made him ready did he gird it at
his side--for that was the knight thereafter unblithe.
The while they thus made ready came the lord of the castle to Sir
Gawain, and said: "Ye are early astir Sir Knight; how comes it that ye
be thus hurried at this time? Scarce have ye slept, and arisen, ere
ye would ride hence. Have ye heard Mass, and broken your fast ere ye
depart?"
Quoth Sir Gawain: "Dear mine host, I grieve that ye yet sorrow; so may
God guard me and bring me to His grace when I die as I truly mourn for
your mischance. I will it were yet to do!" Quoth Sir Gawain the bold:
"Though 'twere hard and painful to me yet would I for seven years long
wear haircloth next my body, wherever I fared, for this that ye have
received me so well. Nevertheless be ye sure of a truth--I may not deny
it this day for any man, how strong soever he might be, nor through fear
of any that may hear me, foe or friend--but I must needs say in sooth
your son had merited his death many a time and oft ere the day came that
he died! Now may God have mercy upon him! And God reward ye for the
great good, and the honour, that ye do to me, all ye here, in that I
have been at your charges."
Then was the host sore vexed, and he said: "I will do ye no harm for
aught that hath chanced by ye; nevertheless, there be here many a man
who had fain fallen upon ye, but I tell ye I will not that aught befall
ye here; nor that my peace be broken, nor vengeance taken upon ye. I
shall go with ye as ye ride hence, and ride with ye so far that ye be
not led astray by any who remain behind. I were loth that harm befell
ye."
Sir Gawain spake: "For that may God, who ruleth over all, reward ye." He
took the bridle in his hand and rode forth, the host nigh to him; and at
his side went he who had betrayed him aforehand. Now cometh great sorrow
upon Sir Gawain. He deemed that he had safe conduct, but he had lost
from its sheath his sword, which had been stolen from him; and that
which the seneschal had put in its place when he drew forth the good
brand was more brittle than glass. Thereto had he cunningly handled the
harness, girths and stirrup-leather, whereof Sir Gawain knew naught, and
the lord of the castle had sent afore the strongest and most valiant
of his folk, to waylay Sir Gawain, and to take his life, A man's heart
might well fail him for doubt, and great fear, did he come in such a
pass, and know no wile whereby he might escape.
Sir Gawain, who knew naught of these tricks and snares rode on his way,
discoursing of many things with his host, until they drew nigh to the
place where his foes lay, ambushed in the thicket, who would fain slay
him. When he came nigh to the place the host took leave of the knight,
and turned him again towards the castle. Sir Gawain sat upon his steed
and deemed that he should ride thence without strife or combat. As he
laid his hand on the saddle-bow, and thrust his feet into the stirrups
and thought to rise in the saddle, the girths brake asunder, the saddle
turned over the left stirrup beneath the horse, and left him standing.
Then Sir Gawain saw a great company of folk spring forth and come
towards him with all their might. Some came from the ditches where they
had lain hidden, some out of bushes, some out of thickets, and some came
forth from the hollow ways. God confound traitors, since He may not mend
them!
Sir Gawain abode not still; he saw well that he was betrayed, and
over-matched. He drew forth from its sheath the sword, which was little
worth to him, and deemed he would defend himself, as he oft had done
aforetime, against those who would harm him. But ere he might smite
three blows that sword brake, as it were tin--this was an ill beginning
would a man defend his life. This Sir Gawain saw, and was dismayed, he
wist well that he was betrayed. They who would harm him came upon him
from every side, a great company and fierce, all thirsting for his life;
there was a great clash of swords; they thrust at him with their spears.
His sword protected him not a whit--he who gave it to him God give him
woe! It brake in twain at the hilt, and fell into the sand. Sir Gawain
stood empty-handed, small chance had he of escape, and they who beset
him were chosen men, over-strong and over-fierce, as was there well
proven. Like as a wild boar defends himself against the hounds that
pursue him, even so did Sir Gawain defend himself, but it helped him
naught. They harmed him most who stood afar, and thrust at him with
spears to sate their rage. There was among them no sword so good but had
Sir Gawain held it, and smote with it three such blows as he was oft
wont to deal with his own, it had broken, or bent, and profited them no
whit. But of those things which had stood him in good stead many a time
before, when he was hard beset, his good steed, and his sword, the which
was a very haven, of these was he now robbed.
Thus was Sir Gawain overcome, and me thinks 'twas little marvel! There
lives no man so strong or so valiant but he may some time be vanquished
by force, or by fraud. Sir Gawain must needs yield him; he was felled to
the ground, yet were there some to whom it cost their life ere he was
captive, and some it cost a limb, or twain, that might never more be
healed; and he himself was so sore mis-handled that all he ware, whether
it were armour or other clothing, was rent in many a place, so that the
flesh might be seen. There lived on earth no man so wise that he might
aid him in this stress, nor leech who might heal him; yet, an God will,
he shall be healed of his smart and of his shame.
They bound Sir Gawain's hands, and set him on a sorry hack, and to anger
him they led beside him Gringalet, his steed. This they did that he
might be the more sorrowful when he beheld his horse, which he had now
lost, and his own life withal! For of this would they deprive him, and
make him to die a shameful death; burn him they would, or break him upon
the wheel, that they might wreak their vengeance upon him. There were
among them knights and squires, the richest, and the most nobly born
after the lord of the land; and all had sworn an oath that they would
lead Sir Gawain to the cross-roads, at the entering in of their land for
the greater shaming of King Arthur's Court. To this had they pledged
themselves, that they would there slay him without respite or delay; and
were it not that 'twere shame to themselves, and too great dishonour to
one who bare the name of knight, they had hung him by the neck, on the
border of the two lands, to shame King Arthur; so that all his folk
who were of the knightly order, and dwelt at his court, and sought for
adventure, should shun their land when they heard the tidings of the
vengeance wrought by them upon knights-errant who would prove their
fate within those borders.
Thus it fell out that they brought Sir Gawain on the horse, sorely
wounded and mishandled, within the nearness of half a mile, so that
the knight knew he was nigh to the cell of the Hermit of whom at that
self-same cross-road he had asked tidings of King Arthur's knights, and
of that bad and evil land where many were brought to shame. And they who
had brought him thither were of one mind that they should make a wheel,
and break the knight upon it at the Cross by the parting of the ways
whereof I have told ye afore.
Now shall I leave speaking of this matter till I come again thereto,
and will forthwith tell ye how it fared with Morien when the three
had parted asunder, as I told ye afore (Sir Gawain, Morien, and Sir
Lancelot, he was the third), since they would fain make proof of that
which the Hermit had told them. Now will I tell ye of Morien ere that
I end the tale of Sir Gawain. Now doth the adventure tell that Morien,
that bold knight, rode the seaward way, and came safely to the passage
of the ford nigh unto the open sea. And all the day he met no man of
whom he might ask concerning his father; 'twas labour wasted, for all
who saw him fled from him. Little good might his asking do him, since
none who might walk or ride would abide his coming. But he saw there the
hoof-prints of horses, which lay before him and were but newly made; by
this he deemed that his father had passed that way but a short while
before.
Thus he followed the hoof-tracks to the passage of the sea. That night
had he neither rest nor slumber, nor found he place where he might
shelter, or where it seemed to him he might ask for food or lodging
beneath a roof.
The morning early, even as it dawned and men might see clearly and well
(which comforted him much), he came safely ahorse to where one might
make the crossing, but he saw never a soul; no man dwelt thereabout, for
the robbers had laid waste the land, and driven away the folk so that
none remained. 'Twas all heath and sand, and no land beside; there grew
neither barley nor wheat. He saw and heard no man, nor did folk come and
go there, but he saw ships at anchor, and shipmen therein, who were wont
to take over those folk who would cross into Ireland.
Morien came riding over the sea-sand, and cried with a loud voice
shipward: "Ye who be within tell me that which I ask lest it be to your
own loss, as also I would fain know for my own profit and rejoicing.
Know ye if any within these few days past have carried a knight over the
water?"
But all they who lay in the ships, when they beheld Morien who had
doffed his helm, were so afeard for him that they might neither hear nor
understand question nor answer. They were altogether in fear of him,
since he was so tall, and black withal. Each man turned his boat
seaward, and put off from the shore, for Morien was to look upon even as
if he were come out of hell. They deemed they had seen the Foul Fiend
himself, who would fain deçeive them, so they departed as swiftly as
they might and would in no wise abide his coming. Then must Morien turn
him again, for none would hearken to his speech nor tell him that which
he fain would know; all were of one mind that 'twas the Devil, and none
else, who rode there upon the sand, so they fled with one consent from
the shore.
Morien saw well that his labour was in vain, for would he make the
crossing there was no man would abide his coming or receive him into his
boat. Thus must he needs turn him back, and great lamentation did he
make thereof. He saw the footprints where two horses had ridden afore
him, and ever he hoped that 'twas his father who rode there, and that
he had crossed the water, but he thought within himself: "What doth it
profit a man to labour if he know it to be in vain? None will take me
over the water since I am a Moor, and of other countenance than the
dwellers in this land; this my journey is for naught. I may not do
better than return to the Hermit, that good man, there where I parted
from my comrades." He had neither eaten nor drunk since that he rode
thence; his head was dazed with hunger and with grief. He looked behind
and afore, and saw nowhere where food was in preparing, nor saw he man
nor woman, nor creature that had life, upon the seashore.
Then he rode swiftly upon the backward trail till he came once more
to the parting of the ways; there found he carpenter-folk hewing and
shaping timber, whereof they had made a great wheel. He saw a knight
sitting upon the ground, in sore distress, naked and covered with blood;
he had been brought thither to be broken upon the wheel, so soon as it
might be made ready. Well might his heart misgive him!
Morien who came thither saw the gleam of many a hauberk; there were
armed folk enow! Others there were who were but in evil case, unarmed,
and unclad, who were scarce whole. Their limbs were bandaged, some
the arm, some the leg, some the head, and stained with blood. And Sir
Gawain, who sat there sore mishandled, knew that well, and as Morien
came nigh, he cried, so that all might hear: "Dear my comrade, ye be
welcome. God give me joy of your coming hither! I am Gawain, your
comrade; little did I foresee this mischance when we parted, you and I,
at this cross-way! Have pity upon the sore stress in which ye see me.
May God who hath power over us all strengthen ye well; would that He
might here show forth His power!"
When Morien who was hard beset by them who stood there heard this, never
might one hear in book or song that any man smote such fierce blows as
he smote with the sword which he drew forth. Do what he might with
that sword it suffered neither dint nor scar; he smote straight to the
mid-ward; nor was their harness so good that it might withstand him.
Thereto helped his great strength, that he fought so fiercely against
them who withstood him, and smote such ghastly wounds that nevermore
might they be healed, nor salved by the hand of any leech. He clave many
to the teeth, through helm and coif, so that they fell to the ground.
And ever as he cast his eyes around and they lighted upon Sir Gawain,
who was in such evil case, his courage waxed so great that were the
Devil himself against him he had slain him even as a man; might he die,
he had there lost his life. Sir Gawain sat by the wayside in sorry
plight, with his hands bound; but the good knight Morien so drave aback
the folk who had brought him thither that they had little thought for
him. He defended him so well with his mighty blows that none might come
at him to harm him; he felled them by twos and by threes, some under
their horses, some beside them. The space began to widen round Sir
Gawain and Morien; for all there deemed that he came forth from hell,
and was hight Devil, in that he so quelled them and felled them
underfoot that many hereafter spake thereof. That men thrust and smote
at him troubled him little, therein was he like to his father, the noble
knight Sir Agloval; he held parley with no man, but smote ever, blow
after blow, on all who came nigh him. His blows were so mighty; did a
spear fly towards him, to harm him, it troubled him no whit, but he
smote it in twain as it were a reed; naught might endure before him.
He ware a hauberk that bold overstrong hero, wherewith he was none
too heavy laden, yet none might harm him with any weapon they brought
thither. Then might ye see the blood run red upon the ground for the
good knight's sword spared neither horse nor man. There might ye see
lying heads and hands, arms and legs; some hewn from the body, some
smitten in twain. They who might escape death fared little better, for
good fortune had departed from them--thus many chose their end. He who
came betimes to the conflict, and fled without waiting to see what might
chance further, he was blithe! Thus were they put to rout, and either
slain or driven from the field, or helpless of limb; some who came
thither ahorse had lost their steeds, and must rue their journey. They
might no longer ride, but must go hence afoot.
Then Morien dismounted, and took Sir Gawain in his arms, and said full
oft, "Alas, my comrade, how were ye thus betrayed? I fear physician may
aid ye never more, ye have wounds so many and so sore."
With that he had unbound his hands; and Sir Gawain said: "Of physician
have I no need." He thanked God and Morien a hundredfold, that he was
thus delivered from peril, and comforted in his need; his heart was
light within him, and he said he should speedily mend might he but have
repose for two days, and neither walk nor ride; by the help of God, and
by leechcraft and the aid of certain herbs the virtue of which he knew
well, so might he regain all his strength.
Now had they left upon the field Gringalet and certain other steeds,
the masters whereof were slain or had fled afar. Gringalet was bare of
harness, he had lost his saddle as ye heard afore, and therefore no man
had mounted him. He who had brought him thither had forgat him upon that
field, his journey had been dearly bought and he lay there dead in the
green grass. And Sir Gawain when he was ware of that was fain to forget
all his pain. He arose from where he sat, and went towards his steed,
and as he looked upon him his heart rose high within him, and he deemed
that he was well-nigh healed. And even as he came Gringalet knew his
lord, nor would flee from him, but came towards him, and for very
friendship seized him with his teeth.
Then did they abide no longer, but betook them to the hermit who had
been sore afeard for all that he heard and saw through the window of his
cell. He knew the two knights well, when he heard their tale, and how
that they were even the same who had but lately passed his way, and he
spake to the Father of Adventure: "Even so did I foretell ye when ye
would ride toward that land, and I prayed ye to refrain. But that would
ye not do, and so have ye come to harm therein! They who are fain to
despise counsel ofttimes do so to their own mischief. But since it hath
so befallen, think ye what may best profit ye, and abide overnight with
me, here within; for an ye depart hence I know not where ye may find
shelter. That evil beast whereof I spake when ye were here afore hath so
laid waste the land that no man dwelleth herein. If I still dwell here
'tis that I have no need to flee nor to fear death ere my day come,
when as it hath been foretold and declared I shall break the rule of my
order. A long tale is ill to hear, I will weary ye not, but see that
naught be lacking to your ease. Ye shall stable your steeds, and abide
this night within my chapel. That which I have will I give ye, for the
love of God and the honour of knighthood." Then Sir Gawain and Morien
his comrade thanked him much, and went their way to the chapel, where
they abode throughout the day; each told to the other his adventures as
they had befallen, neither more nor less. The hermit tended the horses
well with all that was needful to them; he bade the lad who served him,
as a good man doth his friend, bring forth all the store that he had
within, and fetch water from the spring, and warm it to Sir Gawain's
liking that he might therewith wash his limbs, and cleanse them from
the blood. He had upon him no mortal wound, so good was his hauberk,
otherwise had he lost his life from the blows he had received.
With that came the hermit into the chapel, and spake, and told them how
he had heard tidings from pilgrims who had come thither that the Red
Knight and his companions had but late ridden the road that led toward
the sea coast, though he had marked it not; 'twas but yesterday he had
been told thereof.
Then spake the knight Morien and said by his troth he had even followed
the hoof prints of horses that were but newly made till he came to where
one must needs cross over the water; "and then did I lose all sign of
their further track; but howsoever I might pray, or call upon those who
lay there in their ships, when they saw me they were terrified as hares,
and would tell me nought, the fools, of that I asked them! One and all
fled, and put them out to sea. Methinks they were afraid of me. But by
the faith that I owe to God and Our Lady, and the honour of knighthood,
it shall avail them naught that they thus refuse me; I shall turn again
from here, and otherwise take my way; may I but find on shore one of
those who were there, and who belongeth to the ships, in sooth he were
born in an evil hour! An he carry me not over the water I will thrust
him through with my spear, or deal him such a stroke with my sword, that
he shall fall dead upon the earth. My heart forbode me that he who went
before me was my father! But in all my journey I met no living soul of
whom I might ask aught. Then I began to wax fearful, for hunger beset
me, and therein I found neither man nor woman, nor aught but heather
and waste land wherein I was a stranger. No man might I see or hear, no
wheat or barley grew there; 'tis the truth I tell ye, thither cometh no
man save that he desire to cross the wide water in the ships that there
lie ready. Thus had I my pain for naught. But whatsoe'er befall me since
that I have heard from our host, that good man, that my father in sooth
rode that way I shall follow hard after, if so be that I may but cross
over, and will but await tomorrow's dawn. Since that I have heard he
rideth not so far ahead I may well overtake him, an my steed, which is
so swift, and strong, and good, foil me not!"
"God speed ye!" quoth Sir Gawain. Such was indeed his counsel, and he
sore lamented his own evil plight. But ill had it chanced with him;
within the castle had they stolen from him his good sword wherewith
he should defend himself. God give him shame who stole it! His
saddle-girth, his stirrup-leathers, were cut midway through; as he
thought to sit upon his steed they brake clean in twain, and left him
standing upon his feet. This did Sir Gawain tell them there, even as
ye have heard aforetime. If his heart were heavy when he took count of
this, 'twas small marvel!
Then did they wash Sir Gawain's limbs, and he himself searched his
wounds. So good a leech might no man find since the day of Mother Eve as
was Sir Gawain; whatever wound he tended, 'twas healed even as ye looked
upon it!
That night had they all the comfort that the hermit might prepare till
that they saw the fair day dawn and the sun begin to rise. Sir Gawain
was somewhat troubled, since he lacked alike arms and clothing: also his
wounds, which were sore, pained him the more. Nor did there live any
near at hand whom he knew, and who might give them what was lacking.
Neither bread, meat, nor wine had they; naught remained to the hermit,
he had given the knights all his store. Morien's heart was set upon
following his father, and Sir Gawain was of a mind to ride in quest of
Sir Lancelot, and learn how it had fared with him. He was loth to delay
or abide there, for he would fain, so soon as he might ride, fare in
search of his comrade. Yet must he tarry a day ere he might mount his
steed, such was his stress from the wounds he had received--sooth, it
was a marvel that he escaped! And now food had failed them, and that was
a sore lack. Even had they money or pledge to offer there dwelt none
that side of the border, as they too well knew, but their bitter foes,
who had fain wrought them woe. 'Twas seven miles and more hard riding,
ere they might find village or fort in King Arthur's land. Hereof was
Sir Gawain troubled. He might neither ride nor walk for his own aid.
Thus both were ill at ease and sore oppressed.
Morien was loth to remain, yet he thought it shame to forsake his
comrade, Sir Gawain, and thus he abode with him in the chapel.
Then as Morien stood by the window, it seemed to him that he saw a
knight come riding in great haste, on a horse tall and swift; he was
well armed, and seemed a goodly knight withal. Morien spake to Sir
Gawain as he lay there. "What may this be? Here cometh a knight, and I
know not whither he goeth!"
Sir Gawain abode not still, but went as best he might to the window; he
looked upon the knight, and deemed by his armour and the tokens whereby
a man may be known of men, that 'twas his own brother, Sir Gariët, the
son alike of his father and of his mother. He came riding, as one sore
pressed, on that self-same road that led from Britain. The more Sir
Gawain looked upon him the more he deemed he knew him; and when he came
nigh to the Hermitage he knew well the arms that he bare. Then was Sir
Gawain gladder at heart than I may tell ye, for Sir Gariët his brother,
that strong and valiant knight, brought with him that of which they were
sorely in need, bread and meat, and wine fresh and clear.