So rode Sir Gawain through the realm of Logres, on an errand that he
held for no jest. Often he lay companionless at night, and must lack the
fare that he liked. No comrade had he save his steed, and none save God
with whom to take counsel. At length he drew nigh to North Wales, and
left the isles of Anglesey on his left hand, crossing over the fords by
the foreland over at Holyhead, till he came into the wilderness of
Wirral,[6] that is loved neither of God nor of man, and there he abode
but a little time. And ever he asked, as he fared, of all whom he met,
if they had heard any tidings of a Green Knight in the country
thereabout, or of a Green Chapel? And all answered him, Nay, never in
their lives had they seen any man of such a hue. And the knight wended
his way by many a strange road and many a rugged path, and the fashion
of his countenance changed full often ere he saw the Green Chapel.
Many a cliff did he climb in that unknown land, where afar from his
friends he rode as a stranger. Never did he come to a stream or a ford
but he found a foe before him, and that one so marvellous, so foul and
fell, that it behoved him to fight. So many wonders did that knight
behold that it were too long to tell the tenth part of them. Sometimes
he fought with dragons and wolves; sometimes with wild men that dwelt in
the rocks; another while with bulls, and bears, and wild boars, or with
giants of the high moorland that drew near to him. Had he not been a
doughty knight, enduring, and of well-proved valour, doubtless he had
been slain, for he was oft in danger of death. Yet he cared not so much
for the strife, what he deemed worse was when the cold clear water was
shed from the clouds, and froze ere it fell on the fallow ground. More
nights than enough he slept in his harness on the bare rocks, near slain
with the sleet, while the stream leapt bubbling from the crest of the
hills, and hung in hard icicles over his head.
Thus in peril and pain, and many a hardship, the knight rode alone till
Christmas Eve, and in that tide he made his prayer to the Blessed Virgin
that she would guide his steps and lead him to some dwelling. On that
morning he rode by a hill, and came into a thick forest, wild and drear;
on each side were high hills, and thick woods below them of great hoar
oaks, a hundred together, of hazel and hawthorn with their trailing
boughs intertwined, and rough ragged moss spreading everywhere. On the
bare twigs the birds chirped piteously, for pain of the cold. The knight
upon Gringalet rode lonely beneath them, through marsh and mire, much
troubled at heart lest he should fail to see the service of the Lord,
who on that self-same night was born of a Maiden for the cure of our
grief; and therefore he said, sighing, “I beseech Thee, Lord, and Mary
Thy gentle Mother, for some shelter where I may hear Mass, and Thy
mattins at morn. This I ask meekly, and thereto I pray my Paternoster,
Ave, and Credo.” Thus he rode praying, and lamenting his misdeeds, and
he crossed himself, and said, “May the Cross of Christ speed me.”