Sir Gawain's Quest Begins

King Arthur had had letters sealed and sent to every

Land summoning lords and knights to attend a court at Pennevoiseuse by the Welsh sea at the feast of Saint John. The knights of the Round Table, who were scattered throughout the lands and forests, heard the news and were filled with joy, and returned to the court with all speed. Sir Gawain and Lancelot did not come on the day decreed, but the other knights of the court made their arrival, every one.

Saint John's Day came. The weather was fine and clear and the hall was high and wide and filled with a great throng of knights. Cloths were laid on the tables, of which there were many in the hall, and when the king and queen had washed and were seated at the head of one table, all the knights sat down - and there were at least five hundred present. Kay the seneschal and Sir Yvain, son of King Urien, were serving at the table that day along with twenty-five knights, and Lucan the butler served the king with his cup of gold. The sun streamed in through the windows all around the hall, and the floor was strewn with rushes and flowers and wild mint, filling the air with a heady fragrance.

The first course had been served and everyone was waiting for the second when three maidens suddenly entered the hall. The first was riding a mule, whiter than snow, with a head-piece of gold and an ivory saddle inlaid with precious stones, and a saddle-cloth of red samite traced with gold. The maiden had a most comely body, and she was clad in a rich silken gown, with a fine head-dress flowing all around her head, laden with jewels that blazed like fires. And it was well that her head was covered thus, for she was quite bald. Her right arm was hung in a sling embroidered with gold, and rested on the richest cushion ever seen, set about with little golden bells. And in her hands she held the head of a king, sealed with silver and crowned with gold.

The second maiden, more beautiful still, was mounted on a horse such as a squire might ride, and from her neck a shield hung: pure white it was, with a red cross, and in it was fixed a piece of the True Cross on which Christ was crucified.

The third maiden came in on foot. She was about the height of a boy and wore a short skirt, and carried a whip in her hand with which she drove the two mounts. She was the most beautiful of all.

The first maiden rode up to the king and queen where they were seated at the table, and said: 'Sire, may the Saviour of the world grant honour and joy to you and the queen and all those present; and don't take offence if I remain mounted, for I cannot dismount in the company of knights, nor must I, until the Grail is won.'

'Damsel,' said the king, 'nothing would please me more than that.'

'I know that, sire; and I've a request to make.'

'Speak your will.'

'Sire,' she said, 'the shield this maiden bears belonged to Joseph of Arimathea, the good soldier who took Our Lord from the Cross, and I now present it to you, on these conditions: that you keep the shield for a knight who'll come to collect it, and that you hang it on that pillar in the middle of the hall and keep it there; for none but he must take it down or hang it from his neck. With this shield he will win the Grail, and he'll leave another shield here, a red shield emblazoned with a white stag.'

'Damsel,' said the king, 'the shield we will gladly keep, and I thank you deeply for bringing it here.'

'Sire,' she said, 'I've more to say. I bring you greetings from the greatest, most loyal and upright king on earth - the Fisher King, who is to be pitied indeed, for he has fallen into a grievous weakness.'

'That is a great shame, damsel,' said the king, 'and may God grant him what his heart desires.'

'But sire, do you know why this weakness has beset him? It's because of a knight he lodged at his castle, to whom the Grail appeared. Because the knight failed to ask who was served from it, all lands were engulfed by war; whenever a knight met another in a forest or glade they would do battle without any real cause. And I have my own grievance, sire, against the knight, and I'll show you why.'

And so saying she took off her rich head-dress and showed the king, the queen and all the assembly her bald, quite hairless head.

'Sire,' she said, 'I had a beautiful head of hair, all braided into golden tresses, until the knight came to the house of the Fisher King; because he failed to ask the question I'm now bald, and my hair will not return until a knight goes and asks the question properly, or goes and wins the Grail. But sire, you've not yet seen the full harm this has wrought. Outside this hall is a cart pulled by three white stags. I tell you, the harness is of silk and gold, and all the timber is ebony. It's draped in black samite, with a gold cross on top as long as the cart itself. And on the cart beneath the drape are the heads of 150 knights, some sealed in gold, some in silver and others in lead. And the rich Fisher King wants you to know that this calamity is all the fault of the knight who failed to ask who was served from the Grail. Sire, the maiden with the shield is holding in her hand the head of a queen, sealed in lead and crowned with copper, and by her were betrayed the king whose head I am carrying and the knights whose heads are in the cart outside. Send someone, my lord, to witness the richness and finery of the cart.'

So the king sent Kay the seneschal, who looked all over, inside and out, and returned to the king and said: 'Sire, I've never seen such a handsome cart. And the three white stags that pull it are the sleekest you ever beheld. But if you'll take my advice, you'll take the one at the front; he's the best of the lot, and would make fine venison!'

'Kay!' cried the king. 'You've spoken basely! I wouldn't do such a thing for all the kingdom of Logres!'

'Sire,' said the maiden, 'Sir Kay may speak his mind, but I know you'll take no heed of what he says. Command that the shield be hung on that pillar. We'll leave you now, for we've stayed long enough.'

At the king's command Sir Yvain took the shield from the maiden's neck and hung it on the pillar in the middle of the hall. Then the maidens took their leave of the king and turned away, and the king commended them to God.

When the banquet in the hall was over, the king and the queen and all the knights went to the windows to see the three maidens and the cart with the three stags. The bald maiden was riding in front, and did not don her headdress again until she had entered the forest and the knights watching from the windows could no longer see her: only then did she cover her head once more. When the maidens were lost to view the king and the knights came down from the windows, and most said that she was the first bald maiden they had ever seen.

Now the story leaves King Arthur and tells of the three maidens and the cart pulled by the three stags. They made their way into the forest and rode hard until, with the castle seven leagues behind them, they saw a knight coming along their path. He was riding a big horse, but it was all skin and bone; his hauberk was turned to rust, his shield was holed in more than seven places, and its colour was so faded as to be indiscernible; and he had a great lance in his hand. As he came up to the first maiden he greeted her most nobly, saying:

'Damsel, may God guide you and your company!'

'Sir,' she said, 'may God give you joy and good fortune.'

'Where have you ridden from today?' he asked.

'From a great court, sir, held by King Arthur at Pennevoiseuse. Are you going there?'

'No,' he said, 'but I've been there many times.'

'Where are you headed, then?' she asked.

'To the land of the Fisher King, if it please God.'

'Tell me your name, sir, and tarry awhile with me.'

The knight drew rein and the maidens and the cart halted.

'Damsel,' he said. 'It's only right that you should know my name. I'm the nephew of King Arthur, and my name is Gawain.'

'By my life!' she cried. 'Sir Gawain? But in truth, my heart told me so. And

God be praised, so fine a knight as you should indeed go and see the rich Fisher King. And now I entreat you, by the valour that is in you and for the sake of all that's noble, to return with me and guide me past a castle which stands in this forest, for it's a perilous place.'

'As you wish,' said Sir Gawain.

So he turned back and rode with the maiden through the forest, which was high indeed and thick with leaves and little frequented by people. The maiden recounted the story of the heads they were carrying in the cart, just as she had done at King Arthur's court, and also of the shield that they had left there. But Sir Gawain was more concerned about the maiden who was following behind them on foot.

'Lady,' he said, 'why does the maiden walking behind us not ride on the cart?'

'That she will not, sir. Henceforth she must travel only on foot. But if you're as fine a knight as they say, her penance will soon be done.'

'How so?' asked Sir Gawain.

'I'll tell you,' she said. 'If God should lead you to the castle of the Fisher King and the Holy Grail appears to you, and you ask who is served from it, her penance will be done, and I who am bald shall have tresses once more. But if you fail to do so, we shall have to suffer our afflictions until such time as the Good Knight wins the Grail. For because of the knight who went there first and failed to ask the question, all lands have fallen into misery and war, and the good Fisher King is languishing.'

'Damsel,' said Sir Gawain, 'may God give me the courage and the will to do what will find favour in His eyes and win the world's praise.'

Sir Gawain and the maidens journeyed on and passed through the high forest, green with leaves and filled with birdsong, and entered the most terrible and forbidding forest that ever a man beheld. It seemed it had never been blessed with green: all the branches were bare of leaves and shrivelled, the trees were black as though burnt by fire, and the ground was charred, devoid of grass and full of great crevices.

'Damsel,' said Sir Gawain, 'this forest is grim indeed. Does it go on like this for a long way?'

'A good ten leagues, sir, but you'll not have to suffer them all.'

From time to time Sir Gawain looked back at the maiden walking behind, and worried about how he could help her. They rode on until they came to a great valley. Sir Gawain looked down a wide defile, and there before him was a black castle enclosed by a great ring of wall, forbidding and ghastly; and the nearer he came to the castle the more hideous it seemed. He could see great halls looming, of foul aspect; and a river tumbled from the peak of a lowering black mountain and surged through the castle with such a terrible roar that it sounded like bolts of thunder. Sir Gawain saw the gateway, as ugly as the mouth of Hell, and from within came a great wailing and weeping, with many people crying:

'God! What has become of the Good Knight? When will he come?'

'Damsel,' said Sir Gawain, 'what castle is this, so ugly and foul? There seems to be great suffering here, and people are crying for a good knight to come.'

'It's the castle of the Black Hermit. And no matter what the ones within may do to me, I beg you not to intervene, for you might very well die: you'd have no strength or power against them.'

They rode to within two bowshots of the castle; then through the gates they saw knights on black horses pouring forth, armed all in black. There were 152 of them, and they were hideous to behold. They galloped up to the maidens and the cart, and each took one of the 152 heads, spiking them on the ends of their lances; then they rode back into the castle rejoicing. Sir Gawain had seen what the knights had done, and felt deeply ashamed for not intervening.

'Sir Gawain,' said the maiden, 'now you can see that your strength would be worth little here!'

'Damsel,' he said, 'this is a wicked castle if they rob people so.'

'But there'll be no amends for this outrage, sir, nor will the evil-doers be overcome, nor will those who wail and weep be released from their imprisonment, until the coming of the Good Knight for whom you heard them crying.'

'Damsel,' said Sir Gawain, 'that knight should be happy indeed if he has the valour and strength to overcome such a wicked people.'

'That knight, sir, is the finest in the world and is still quite young. And my heart grieves that I've no news of him, for I'd rather see him than any man alive.'

'So would I, damsel,' said Sir Gawain. 'But may I turn back now, by your leave?'

'No, sir, not until we're past the castle. Then I'll show you the path you should take.'

With that they all moved off together. Just as they were about to leave the castle walls behind, a knight suddenly rode out from a hidden postern, mounted on a great horse and fully armed, lance in hand, and from his neck hung a red shield emblazoned with a golden eagle.

'Sir knight!' he cried to Gawain. 'Stop there, I pray you.'

'What do you want, good sir?' Gawain said.

'You must joust with me,' he cried, 'and try to win this shield; it's a splendid shield, and you should be at great pains to win it, for it belonged to the greatest knight there ever was of his religion, the strongest and the wisest.'

'And who was that?' asked Sir Gawain.

'Judas Machabeus, the creator of falconry.'

'Truly,' said Gawain, 'he was a good knight.'

'So you should be glad indeed,' said the knight, 'if you won this shield, for your own is the most pitiful and battered I've ever seen; I can hardly tell what colour it is!'

'Then you can plainly see,' said the Maiden of the Cart, 'that the knight and his shield have not been idle; and his horse is not as well rested as yours,

Sir.

'Damsel,' said the knight, 'there's no need for all this talking. He must fight with me to the death. I challenge him!'

And Sir Gawain said: 'I heard you.'

He drew back and prepared to charge. The knight did likewise, and they came at each other as fast as their horses could bear them, lances levelled. The knight struck Sir Gawain on his shield where he had little protection and rammed it a full yard through, breaking his lance in the thrust; and Sir Gawain struck him full in the chest with his lance and sent him tumbling over his horse's rear and crashing to the ground, impaled on the lance with a full hand's breadth of steel in his breast. Gawain withdrew the lance, and when the knight found himself unpinned he climbed to his feet and came back to his horse. He was about to step into the stirrups when the Maiden of the Cart cried:

'Sir Gawain, take the knight now, for if he remounts you'll have great trouble beating him!'

When the knight heard Sir Gawain named he drew back. 'What?' he said. 'Is this the good Gawain, the nephew of King Arthur?'

'Yes indeed,' said the maiden.

'I admit defeat, sir, and it grieves me that I didn't know who you were before I began fighting you.' He took the shield from his neck and handed it to Gawain. 'Sir,' he said, 'take the shield that belonged to the good Machabeus, for I know of none on whom it could be better bestowed than you. With this shield were beaten all the knights who are held prisoner in this castle.' Sir Gawain took the shield, which was most handsome and rich, and then the knight said: 'Now give me yours, sir, for you'll surely not carry two?'

'You're right,' said Sir Gawain, and he lifted the shield-strap from his neck. But just as he was about to hand over the shield, the maiden on foot cried out:

'No! Sir Gawain, what are you doing? If he takes your shield back to the castle, all those within will think you've been beaten and will come out after you! They'll force you back inside and throw you into the terrible dungeon! For no man carries back a shield except from a vanquished knight.'

'Sir knight,' said Gawain, 'you seek to do me ill, if this maiden's words are true.'

'Have mercy on me, sir, I pray you,' said the knight. 'Once more I admit defeat. But I'd be very glad to take your shield back to the castle, for never will the shield of so fine a knight be seen there. And I'm delighted you've come, even though you've wounded me, for you've delivered me from the greatest hardship that ever a knight endured.'

'What hardship's that?' said Sir Gawain.

'I'll tell you, sir: many knights have passed this castle, both valiant and cowardly, and I've had to joust and do combat with them all, offering them the shield as a prize just as I did with you. I found most of them courageous and bold in defending themselves, and they wounded me in many places, but never did a knight strike me down or give me such a blow as you. And since you've carried off the shield and beaten me, never again will any knight who passes this castle need to fear me or any of the knights within.'

'By my life,' said Sir Gawain, 'I prize my victory even more now!'

'Sir,' said the knight, 'I'll go now by your leave. I won't be able to hide my shame at the castle; I'll have to show it openly.'

'May God give you courage,' said Sir Gawain.

Then the Maiden of the Cart told Gawain to give her the shield which the knight had asked to carry off.

'Gladly, damsel,' he said, and the maiden on foot took the shield and placed it in the cart, while the vanquished knight remounted and rode back to the castle. When he was inside, so great a commotion and shouting arose that all the forest and valley resounded.

'Sir Gawain,' said the Maiden of the Cart, 'the knight is disgraced: he's being thrown into that dread prison. But hurry! Now we can go!'

And with that they all set off together and left the castle a league behind.

'Damsel,' said Sir Gawain, 'when it shall please you I'll take my leave.'

'May God keep you, sir, and I thank you deeply for escorting us.'

'Damsel,' he said, 'I shall always be at your service.'

'Many thanks, sir,' she said. 'There's your path, by that tall cross at the edge of the forest. There you'll find the most beautiful wood in the world, once you've passed through this one that's so grim.'

Sir Gawain turned away, and suddenly the maiden on foot cried out: 'Sir! Sir! You're not as alert as I thought!'

Sir Gawain, startled, turned his horse back. 'Why do you say that, damsel?'

'Because,' she said, 'you didn't ask my lady of the Cart why she carries her arm in that golden sling. Will you be as alert at the court of the Fisher King?'

'Oh sweet friend,' said the Maiden of the Cart, 'don't hold Gawain alone guilty, but King Arthur before him, and all the knights of his court, for none had the presence of mind to ask. Sir Gawain, go your way. It's no use asking the question now, for I won't tell you, and you'll never have the answer except from the most cowardly knight in the world, who's in my service and trying to find me - though without success.'

'Damsel,' said Sir Gawain, 'I shall press you no further.'

And with that the maiden took her leave, while Gawain rode off along the path she had shown him.

The story now leaves the three maidens and the cart and tells how Sir Gawain passed through the dismal forest and entered a beautiful, vast and lofty wood, full of wild creatures. He rode on at a good pace; but he was greatly disturbed by what the maiden had said, and feared he would be widely reproached.

He rode all day until evening fell and the sun was sinking. Then looking ahead he saw the cell of a hermit and its chapel deep in the forest. Before the chapel leaped a spring, clear and swift, shaded by a wide-spreading tree. A maiden was seated beneath the tree, holding a mule by the reins, and from her saddle-bow hung the head of a knight. Sir Gawain rode up and dismounted.

'God keep you, damsel,' he said.

'And you, sir, all the days of your life.'

Then she rose to meet him, and he said: 'Damsel, what are you waiting for here?'

'For the hermit, sir, who's gone out into the woods. I want to ask him news of a knight.'

'Do you think he'll have the news you seek?'

'Yes, sir; so I've been told.'

Just then the hermit appeared and greeted the maiden and Sir Gawain. He opened the door of his cell and led their mounts inside, where he unbridled them and gave them hay and barley. He was just about to take off their saddles when Sir Gawain stepped forward and said: 'Leave that, sir; it's not a task for you.'

'I'm quite capable of it,' replied the hermit, 'for I was in King Uther's household as a squire and a knight for forty years; and now I've been a hermit here for more than thirty.'

Sir Gawain gazed at him in wonder. 'Sir,' he said, 'you don't look even forty years old!'

'I know,' said the hermit.

Sir Gawain saw to the unsaddling, taking more care of the maiden's mule than of his own horse, and then the hermit took Gawain and the maiden by the hand and led them to the chapel, which was a most beautiful place.

'Sir,' said the hermit to Sir Gawain, 'you mustn't lay aside your arms, for this forest is full of adventures, and no worthy man should be unarmed here.'

So he went and fetched his lance and shield and placed them inside the chapel. Then the hermit brought them such food as he had and water from the spring; and when they had eaten, the maiden said to the hermit:

'I've come here, sir, to ask you news of a knight I'm seeking.'

'And who is that?'

'A chaste knight of the most holy lineage. He has a head of gold, the gaze of a lion, a heart full of valour and a mind quite free of baseness.'

'Damsel,' said the hermit, 'I can tell you nothing, for I don't know for certain where he is. But he's slept in this chapel twice in less than a year.'

'Is that all you can tell me?'

'Yes, damsel.'

'And you, good sir?' she said to Gawain.

'Damsel,' he said, 'if he's the youth I think you mean, I'd be as glad to see him as you, but I've met no-one who had news of him.'

'And the Maiden of the Cart, sir, have you seen her?'

'Yes, indeed,' he said, 'and just a short while ago.'

'Did she still have her arm in a sling?'

'Yes,' said Sir Gawain.

'She'll carry it so for a long time,' said the maiden.

Then the hermit said: 'What's your name, sir?'

'Gawain, the nephew of King Arthur.'

'Then I love you the more,' said the hermit. 'God save King Arthur, for his father made me a knight. But now I'm a priest, and ever since I came to this hermitage I've served the Fisher King, by Our Lord's command. And all who serve him are well aware of his grace, for his holy house is so sweet that a year's stay seems no more than a month. And because of his holiness and the sweetness of his house, where I've many times held service in the chapel where the Grail appears, I, and all who serve him, retain the appearance of youth.'

'Sir,' said Sir Gawain, 'can you show me the way to his house?'

'No-one,' said the hermit, 'can show you the way; the will of God must lead you there. Do you wish to go?'

'There's nothing I desire more.'

'Then may God grant,' said the hermit, 'that you ask the question that the other knight to whom the Grail appeared failed to ask, for because of him many misfortunes have since befallen a great many people.'

With that they ceased their talking, and the hermit led Sir Gawain to his cell to rest, while the maiden stayed in the chapel.

As soon as dawn broke next day, Sir Gawain, who had slept all night fully armed, arose to find his horse and the maiden's mule saddled and bridled. He went to the chapel and saw the hermit dressed for mass and the maiden kneeling before the altar of Our Lady, praying to God and His mother for guidance and weeping most tenderly, the tears running down her cheeks.

When she had prayed for some time she rose, and Sir Gawain said to her: 'May God bless your day.'

And she returned his greeting.

'Damsel,' he said, 'you don't seem very happy.'

'I've no reason to be, sir, for I'm near to being disinherited since I can't find the Good Knight. Now I must go to the castle of the Black Hermit and take the head that hangs on my saddle-bow, for otherwise I'll not be able to pass through the forest without being taken captive or dishonoured, but this will buy me safe passage. Then I'll seek out the Maiden of the Cart and travel through the forest in safety.'

At that the hermit began mass. Sir Gawain and the maiden heard it, and when it had been sung Gawain took his leave of the hermit, and the maiden likewise. He rode off in one direction and the maiden in another, and they commended each other to God.

Sir Gawain passed into the high forest and rode swiftly on, praying to God to show him the path that would lead him to the land of the Fisher King. On he rode until midday when, deep in the forest, he saw a youth beneath a tree, sitting beside his hunting-horse.

Sir Gawain greeted him, and the youth called back: 'God guide you, sir.'

'Where are you headed, friend?' said Sir Gawain.

'I'm looking for the lord of this forest.'

'Why, to whom does the forest belong?'

'To the finest knight in the world, sir. Perhaps you've news of him: he should be bearing a red shield with a white stag. I say he's a good knight, but in faith I shouldn't praise him, for he killed my father in these woods with a javelin. He was just a boy when he killed him, and while I'm just a boy I'll avenge my father if I find the knight, for when he killed my father he robbed me of the greatest knight in the kingdom of Logres. And he robbed me well, killing him with a javelin without so much as a proper challenge! I'll never rest until I've avenged him.'

'Dear friend,' said Sir Gawain, 'since he's such a good knight, take care you don't bring misfortune upon yourself; I pray you may meet him on peaceful terms.'

'That can never be,' said the youth, 'for if I once catch sight of him I'll attack him as a mortal enemy.'

'Whatever you say, good friend,' said Sir Gawain. 'But can you tell me if there's a house in this forest where I could find lodging tonight?'

'I know of no house on your path within twenty leagues of here. So you mustn't delay, for it's long past noon.'

And so Sir Gawain bade the youth farewell and rode swiftly away. He knew none of the paths or tracks: he galloped on as chance took him, rejoicing at the beauty of the forest and the great herds of wild beasts that wandered across his path. He rode on until he came at twilight to the forest's edge. The dusk was soft and tranquil and the sun was about to set. He had ridden fully twenty leagues since leaving the boy, yet he feared he was going to find no lodging. Gawain now found himself in the most beautiful meadowland in the world, and after riding on a little way he looked ahead, and there before him appeared a castle, standing close to the forest upon a mountain. It was bounded by a great wall lined with battlements; rich, windowed halls peered out above them, and in the middle of the castle loomed an ancient tower. All around were great rivers, wide meadowlands and deep forest. Sir Gawain spurred on towards the castle, and just as he came in sight of the gate he saw a youth ride out towards him, mounted on a packhorse. As the boy approached he greeted Sir Gawain courteously, saying: 'God keep you, sir.'

'And bring you good fortune,' replied Gawain. 'Good friend, what castle is this?'

'The castle of the Widowed Lady, sir.'

'And what's it called?'

'Kamaalot, sir. It belonged to Alain li Gros, a most fair and noble knight, but he died a long time ago, and so, more lately, did his widow. And now the castle's at war, for the Lord of the Fens and another knight are trying to take it by force, and indeed, they've already seized seven of her castles. Only the widow's daughter and five elderly knights are left to defend this castle, and they long for the return of the widow's son. Sir,' said the boy, 'the gate is shut and the drawbridge raised, for the castle is on the alert. But if you'll tell me your name, I'll ride ahead and have the bridge lowered and the gate unbarred, and tell them you'll lodge there tonight.'

'Many thanks,' said Sir Gawain. 'Truly, my name shall be known before I leave the castle.'

So the youth rode off at a gallop while Sir Gawain sauntered along behind, for he had had a long day's ride. Between the forest and the castle he came across a chapel, its roof supported by four marble columns, and inside was a beautiful tomb, which was wide open to view since the chapel had no walls. Sir Gawain stopped to take a look. Meanwhile the boy rode into the castle and had the drawbridge lowered and the gate opened. Then he dismounted and ran to the hall where the Widowed Lady's daughter was sitting. She said to the boy:

'Why have you turned back from delivering my message?'

'Lady, I've just met the finest knight I've ever seen! He wishes to lodge here tonight; he's fully armed and riding alone.'

'Well, what's his name?' she asked.

'He told me that we'd know his name before he left the castle.'

At that she began to weep for joy, and raising her hands to heaven she cried: 'Dear Lord God, never will I have known such joy if this is my brother: I would not then lose my honour or my castle, which they're wrongfully trying to take from me because I've no lord or defender.'

Then the Widow's daughter rose and walked out across the drawbridge, and there she saw Sir Gawain still gazing at the tomb in the chapel.

'Ah!' she said. 'The tomb will tell us if it's really he!'

She hurried on to the chapel, and when Sir Gawain saw her coming he dismounted.

'Good day, young lady,' he said.

She made no reply and came straight up to the tomb; but when she saw that it was not open she collapsed in a swoon, much to Sir Gawain's dismay. As she recovered from her faint she began to cry out in grief; but at last she said: 'Sir, I bid you welcome. But I thought you were my brother and was overjoyed, and now I see you're not I can't help but grieve. For the tomb is to open as soon as he returns, and until then no-one will know what lies within.'

She rose to her feet and took Sir Gawain by the hand and said: 'What's your name, good sir?'

'Gawain, damsel, the nephew of King Arthur.'

'I bid you welcome, sir, out of love for my brother and you.'

Then she bade the boy take Sir Gawain's horse into the castle, while she led him up to the hall, where his arms were laid aside and water was brought for him to wash his face and hands, for he had been bruised and chafed by his hauberk. Then she robed him in a rich gown of silk and gold, lined with ermine, and seated him beside her.

'Sir,' she said, 'have you any news of my brother? I haven't seen him for a long time and I've great need of him. His name is Perceval.'

'Perceval? I'm sorry, damsel, I can tell you nothing at all. But there's no knight in the world I'd rather see.'

'He was a fair youth indeed, sir, when he left here. And I've since heard he's the fairest knight alive, and the boldest. His bravery now would serve me well, for he left me embroiled in war when he departed. That was a good seven years ago, but I've never seen him since. He killed the Red Knight of the Forest of Quinqueroi, and now that knight's brother and the Lord of the Fens are waging war upon me and trying to seize my castle, so I pray that God will help me, for most of my uncles are dead. King Pelles is not, but he's given up his lands for God and retired to a hermitage. And another of my uncles, the King of Castle Mortal, would give me no support or aid, for he has as much evil in his heart as King Pelles has goodness, which is a great deal; he has designs on the lands of my grandfather the Fisher King, and on the Holy Grail and the lance with the head that bleeds each day; but if it please God they'll never be his.'

Sir Gawain was astonished to hear of the Welsh boy's family, and wondered how much his sister knew. 'Damsel,' he said gently, 'at the house of the Fisher King there was once a knight to whom the Grail appeared three times, but he failed to ask what was done with it or who was served from it.'

'True, sir,' said Perceval's sister. 'Yet they say he was the finest knight in the world. I would curse him indeed, but out of love for my brother I love all knights. Yet because of that knight's folly, my grandfather the Fisher King is now languishing. Sir,' she said, 'all good knights should go and see the house of the rich Fisher King. Will you go?'

'Oh yes, damsel, and as soon as may be. I had no other goal in mind.'

'Then sir,' she said, 'tell my brother and my grandfather the Fisher King of my plight, if you see them. But make sure, Sir Gawain, that you're more alert than the other knight.'

Sir Gawain could not bear to tell her what he knew of her brother Perceval, and said no more than: 'Damsel, I shall do as God guides me.'

While they were talking thus the five elderly knights who guarded the castle came riding back from the forest bearing stags and hinds and boars. They dismounted, and greeted Sir Gawain with joy when they knew that it was he.

When the food was ready they all sat down to dine and were served most graciously. Just then in came the boy who had opened the gate for Sir Gawain. He knelt before the Widow's daughter and said he had delivered her message.

'And what news?' she said.

'My lady, there's to be a great tournament in the vales which once belonged to you: the pavilions are already set. Both your enemies are there, with a great host of other knights, and they've declared that the one who wins the prize at the tournament will become guardian of this castle and hold it against all comers for a year.'

The Widow's daughter began to weep, and said to Sir Gawain: 'Now you know, sir: this castle is no longer mine; those knights have laid claim to it.'

'Truly, my lady, they're wicked and sinful men.'

When the tables had been cleared away the Widow's daughter came to Sir Gawain and fell at his feet, weeping. He raised her up at once, saying: 'Come, damsel; no tears, I pray you.'

'Sir,' she said, 'for God's sake, have pity on me.'

'I have, damsel, by my life.'

'Then our plight will reveal whether you're truly a good knight.'

With that she retired to her chamber, while a bed was set up for Sir Gawain in the hall; and there he lay down to sleep, and the five elderly knights likewise. But thoughts filled Gawain's mind that night, and when he rose next morning he went to hear mass in the castle chapel and then, after eating three pieces of bread soaked in wine, he armed himself at once and asked the five knights if they would go with him to the tourney.

'Oh yes, sir,' they said, 'if you're going!'

'In faith,' cried Sir Gawain, 'I wouldn't miss it for the world!'

So the knights donned their armour, and their horses were brought along with Sir Gawain's. Then he went to take his leave of the Widow's daughter, who was filled with joy when the knights told her that Sir Gawain was going to the tournament.

Gawain and the knights mounted and rode from the castle, galloping on with all speed. When they reached the edge of the forest Sir Gawain looked before him and saw the most beautiful valley he had ever beheld, so great that he could not see a quarter of it; in between patches of deep green forest lay wide stretches of rich meadowland, abounding with game.

'Sir,' said the knights, 'behold the Vales of Kamaalot, which have been taken from our lady the Widow's daughter, along with seven splendid castles in Wales.'

'It's a crime and a sin,' said Sir Gawain.

They rode on until at last they spied the pennants and shields where the tournament was to take place; and already they could see most of the knights mounted and fully armed, spurring their horses down the meadow, and the lodges and pavilions pitched all around in the shade of the woods. Sir Gawain and his companions drew rein beneath a tree and watched as knights gathered on all sides for the tourney, and they pointed out the Lord of the Fens and the brother of the Red Knight, whose name was Cahot the Red. As soon as the tourney was assembled, Sir Gawain and the knights rode down and joined in: Gawain charged a Welsh knight and sent him and his horse crashing to the ground in a heap. Behind him galloped his five companions, each felling an enemy, elated at being with so fine a knight. Cahot the Red saw Sir Gawain, and not realising who he was, came charging at him full tilt. Gawain met him with the head of his lance and struck him so fiercely that he shattered his collarbone and sent his lance flying from his hand. All over the field Gawain rode seeking out opponents, and every knight he met he unhorsed or wounded: the five knights rejoiced at the feats they saw him perform. But suddenly they pointed out the Lord of the Fens, who was advancing with a great body of knights. Sir Gawain turned his horse and galloped straight towards him; they struck each other at such close quarters that their lances bent and flew into splinters, and they and their horses collided so hard that the Lord of the Fens lost his stirrups, his rear saddle-bow was shattered, and he came crashing down behind his horse so that the spike on his helmet plunged a full hand's breadth into the ground. Gawain took his horse, a fine mount indeed, and in full view of all the Lord's followers gave it to one of the five knights, who bade a squire take it back to the castle of Kamaalot. Meanwhile Sir Gawain rode on, seeking opponents all over the field and performing impossible feats of arms. And the five knights themselves, inspired by his example, summoned all their courage and did greater feats of arms that day than they had ever done before, each taking knights captive and winning their horses.

But the Lord of the Fens was now remounted on a fine charger, full of shame at being toppled by Sir Gawain. So he picked out Gawain and came galloping at him, thinking to avenge his disgrace. They clashed; Sir Gawain had but a broken shaft of lance, but he struck him with it full in the chest to balk him, and the Lord of the Fens in turn broke his lance as he struck his foe. Sir Gawain drew his sword and cast away his broken lance, and the Lord of the Fens did likewise, shouting to his men not to intervene, for he had never failed to vanquish any knight he met. They rained great blows on each other's helm, until sparks flew and the swords were notched. But Sir Gawain's blows were the greater, so fierce and terrible that blood poured from his foe's mouth and nose until his hauberk was drenched. The Lord of the Fens could take no more, and he yielded himself prisoner and liegeman to Sir Gawain, who was exultant, as were his five companions. The Lord of the Fens then rode to his tent and dismounted; Gawain took the Lord's horse and said to one of the five knights: 'Keep it for me.'

Meanwhile all the knights of the tournament had retired to their pavilions, all agreeing that the knight with the red shield emblazoned with the eagle of gold had won the day. They asked the Lord of the Fens if he agreed and he did so.

'Then sir,' they said to Sir Gawain, 'the castle of Kamaalot is in your keeping for a year.'

'Many thanks, my lords!' said Sir Gawain, and calling to the five knights he said: 'Sirs, it's my wish that you keep the castle on my behalf, and that you do so with the consent of these knights here.'

'We grant your wish most gladly, sir.'

'And you, sir,' said Sir Gawain to the Lord of the Fens, 'I give as my prisoner to the Widow's daughter who gave me lodging last night.'

'That is not yours to do,' he replied. 'A tournament is not warfare, and I'll not be taken captive back to the castle: I'm quite able to pay my ransom. But tell me your name, sir.'

'My name is Gawain,' he said.

'Oh, Sir Gawain, I've heard tell of you many times, but never seen you until today. Since the castle of Kamaalot is now in your keeping, I swear that for a year and a day the castle and the Widow's lands will have nothing to fear from me - or from anyone else, if I can help it: that I swear before all these knights. And if you want gold or silver of me I'll give it willingly.'

'I thank you, sir. Your pledge gives me joy enough.'

Sir Gawain took his leave and turned away, riding back towards the castle of Kamaalot. To the daughter of the Widowed Lady he bade a squire take the horse of the Lord of the Fens, and she was overjoyed by the gift. The five knights likewise sent all their spoils before them, and there was great rejoicing when they arrived at the castle and he announced that the castle was now in the keeping of the five knights and himself. It is no wonder that Sir Gawain was highly honoured and given fine lodging that night.

When morning came, Sir Gawain took his leave and left the castle; but first he heard mass, for such was his custom. The Widow's daughter, Perceval's sister, commended him to God, and truly, he left the castle a happier place than he had found it.

Sir Gawain rode on, as God and adventure took him, searching for the land of the Fisher King. Fully armed, his shield hung from his neck and lance in hand, he passed into a great forest, praying to Our Lord to guide him on the high quest he had undertaken, so that he might win through with honour. He rode on until he came as evening fell to a house deep in the forest, built on an island in the middle of a river. It was surrounded by tangled woods so that he could scarcely make out the hall; but it was handsome indeed, and Sir Gawain, thinking it must be the house of a great nobleman, headed that way to seek lodging.

Just as he neared the drawbridge, he noticed a dwarf sitting on one of the pillars of the bridge. He jumped up and cried: 'Welcome, Sir Gawain!'

'I wish you good fortune, friend,' said Gawain. 'So you know my name?'

'Indeed I do, sir!' said the dwarf. 'I saw you at the tournament. You couldn't have come here at a better time, for my lord's away but my lady's stayed behind, and she's the most beautiful, wise and noble lady in all the kingdom of Logres, though she's only twenty!'

'My friend,' said Sir Gawain, 'what's the name of the lord of this castle?'

'He's called Marin the Jealous, sir, of the Castle of Gomorret. I'll go and tell my lady that the good Sir Gawain has come, and to make merry!'

Sir Gawain was astonished by the dwarf's welcome, for in most dwarfs he had found great villainy.

The dwarf ran to his lady's bedchamber. 'Quickly, madam,' he said. 'Prepare! The good Sir Gawain has come to lodge with you!'

'Truly,' she said, 'that brings me both joy and sorrow: joy that such a fine knight should lie here, and sorrow, too, because he's the knight my lord fears most in all the world, for he's told me many times that Gawain never won the trust of a lady or a maiden but he had his way.'

'That's not true, my lady,' said the dwarf, 'whatever they may say.'

At that moment Sir Gawain rode into the courtyard and dismounted, and the lady came down to meet him.

'I wish you joy and good fortune, sir.'

'My lady,' he replied, 'may your life be graced with honour.'

The lady took him by the hand and led him to the hall where she seated him on a cloth of golden silk, while a boy went to stable his horse. The dwarf called two other boys to disarm Sir Gawain, and was most anxious to help, calling for water to be brought to wash his face and hands.

'Sir,' he said, 'your hands and nose are still swollen from the blows you received at the tournament.'

Sir Gawain made no reply. The dwarf ran to the bedchamber and brought back a gown of rich scarlet cloth lined with ermine in which he dressed Sir Gawain. And now the food was all ready and the tables were set, and Gawain and the lady could sit down to dine. From time to time he would sit and gaze at the lady because of her great beauty, and if he had given way to his heart and his eyes he would soon have lost his resolve; but because of the high quest he had undertaken he had so bound and restrained his heart that he would not permit any thoughts to turn to baseness. And so his eyes began to turn away from the lady and her shining beauty.

After they had dined a bed was set up for Sir Gawain and he made ready to lie down to sleep. He and the lady wished each other a good night, and when she had gone to her bedchamber, the dwarf said to Sir Gawain: 'I'll lie down here at the foot of your bed, sir, and make sure you're comfortable until you're asleep.'

'Many thanks,' he said. 'And may God grant that I soon earn such kind treatment.'

So the dwarf lay down on a couch before Sir Gawain. And as soon as he saw that he was asleep he got up as quietly as he could and ran down to where a boat was moored on the river that flowed behind the hall. He clambered in and rowed downstream until he came to a fishing-lodge, a fine-looking hall on a little islet, where Marin the Jealous had gone to find sport. The dwarf jumped from the boat and ran inside, where he lit a fistful of candles and came to where Marin was lying on a couch.

'How now?' he cried. 'Are you asleep?'

Marin awoke with a frightened start; he asked the dwarf what was wrong.

'You don't sleep like Sir Gawain,' came the reply.

'What do you know about that?'

'A lot,' said the dwarf. 'I've just left him asleep in your hall - arm in arm with your wife, I do believe!'

'What?' he cried. 'But I forbade her ever to give Sir Gawain lodging!'

'Well truly,' said the dwarf, 'she gave him a more joyful welcome than I ever saw her give anyone! But come quickly, for I fear he'll carry her off!'

'By my life,' cried Marin, 'I'll not return while he's there, but she'll pay for it when he's gone!'

'Then you'll be too late!' said the dwarf.

Meanwhile Sir Gawain was lying in the hall, suspecting nothing; and seeing the dawn break bright and clear, he arose. But just then the lady came to the door of her chamber, and when she saw the dwarf was not in the hall she realised at once his treachery.

'In God's name, sir,' she cried to Gawain, 'have pity on me - the dwarf has betrayed me! If you leave now and don't try to save me from the punishment my lord will make me suffer on your account, then shame upon you! For you know there's nothing you've done to me or I to you for which my lord or anyone else should reproach me!'

'That's true indeed, my lady,' said Sir Gawain, and he armed and rode out of the castle and hid among the trees close by. At that very moment the jealous knight appeared with the dwarf and ran into the hall. The lady came to meet him.

'I bid you welcome, sir,' she said.

'And I wish you,' he cried, 'shame and ill fortune! You're the most faithless woman alive! Last night you lodged in my castle and my bed the man I most despise!'

'Sir, I lodged him in your castle, but your bed I never dishonoured, nor shall I ever!'

'You're lying, false woman!' he cried; and hurriedly arming himself he called for his horse, while his wife, crying for mercy and weeping bitterly, was stripped to her shirt. He mounted, took his shield and lance, and bade his dwarf seize the lady by her hair and drag her after him into the forest. He halted beside the pool of a spring and forced her in where the water was coldest. Then he dismounted and gathered switches among the trees, and began to beat her and flog her across the back and breasts until the stream was running with blood. She cried with all her strength for mercy, and when Sir Gawain heard her he came out of the bushes and galloped towards them.

'Sir!' cried the dwarf. 'Here comes Sir Gawain!'

'In faith,' said the knight, 'now I know there's been evil done - it was a conspiracy!'

'For God's sake, sir,' cried Sir Gawain as he rode up, 'why would you kill the most noble and faithful lady I ever saw in the world? Never has a lady done me such honour, and you should be most grateful to her. In her conduct, her speech and her person I found only virtues, and all the virtues that can be found in a good and faithful lady, and it's a grievous sin to ill-treat her so! I pray you in the name of honour and love to forgive her your anger and fetch her from the water. I swear I did her no harm or dishonour, nor did I wish to.'

The knight was filled with anger when he saw that Sir Gawain would not be gone; a bitter jealousy inflamed his heart, and he conceived an insane and wicked plan.

'Sir Gawain,' he said, 'I'll let her out if you'll joust with me. And if you can vanquish me, she'll be absolved of all guilt and wrong; but if I vanquish you she'll be most surely accused. So shall it be decided.'

'I ask for nothing more,' said Sir Gawain.

And so the knight bade his dwarf take the lady from the pool and seat her in the glade where they were to joust. The knight drew back ready to charge and Sir Gawain came at him as fast as his horse could go. But when he saw him coming Marin the Jealous swerved away from the attack; and lowering his lance he rode up to his wife who was weeping in her innocence, and thrust his lance clean through her and struck her dead. Then he turned and galloped off towards his castle. Sir Gawain saw the lady lying dead and the dwarf running off after his master; he raced after him and trampled him under the hooves of his horse, bursting open the heart in the dwarf's chest, and then rode on towards the castle in the hope of finding a way in. But the drawbridge was raised and the gate bolted, and he could hear Marin shouting to him from within:

'Sir Gawain, this shame and misfortune has befallen me because of you; but, as I live, you'll pay for it yet!'

Sir Gawain had no desire to argue with him, and seeing there was no way in, he turned away and rode back to where the lady lay dead. Across the neck of his horse he laid her body, covered in blood, and wept for her most tenderly. Then he carried her to a chapel outside the castle, and took the body down and laid it inside the chapel, his heart filled with grief and anger. Then he closed the door to keep out the wild beasts, and trusted that someone would come and shroud her and give her burial when he had gone.

And so Sir Gawain departed, grieving so much that he was scarcely in command of himself. Never had any misfortune weighed so heavily on his heart; and with his head hung low, burdened with thought, he rode on through the forest.

Suddenly he saw a knight coming towards him in a most curious manner: he was riding backwards, with the reins of his horse tied round his chest, his shield back to front, his lance upside down, and his hauberk and greaves hanging round his neck. Sir Gawain gazed at him in wonder.

The knight could hear Gawain coming but could not see him, and so he cried aloud: 'Good, gentle knight there, for God's sake don't hurt me, for I'm the Coward Knight!'

'In faith,' said Sir Gawain to himself, 'you don't look like a man that anyone would try to hurt.' And had it not been for the grief that burdened him he would have laughed at his strange appearance. 'You need have no fear of me,' he said, and he rode up to the Coward Knight and looked him in the face. The Coward Knight looked back.

'Sir,' said the knight, 'well met!'

'Well met, indeed,' replied Sir Gawain. 'In whose service are you, sir knight?'

'The Maiden of the Cart's, sir.'

'By my life, I love you the more for that.'

'Then you won't hurt me?' said the knight.

'No,' said Sir Gawain, 'have no fear.'

Just then the knight noticed Sir Gawain's shield and recognised it at once. 'Sir,' he said, 'I know who you are! I'll dismount and ride properly now, and put my armour on the right way round, for you're Sir Gawain, I know, for you alone were to win that shield.'

The knight dismounted to put his armour on properly, asking Sir Gawain to wait until he had armed himself; and Gawain did so, and gave the knight some help. At that moment a knight came galloping through the forest like thunder, and he bore a shield quartered in black and white.

'Sir Gawain,' he cried, 'stop there! I challenge you on behalf of Marin the Jealous, who has murdered his wife because of you!'

'Sir knight,' said Gawain, 'my heart is full of grief for her death, for she'd done nothing to deserve it.'

'I don't care!' cried the Motley Knight. 'I want you dead. If I vanquish you then you're in the wrong, and if you vanquish me then the guilt and shame will lie with my lord - though if you grant me mercy he'll hold his castle as your vassal.'

'God knows in truth,' Gawain replied, 'that I'm guilty of no wrongdoing.'

'Sir Gawain,' said the Coward Knight, 'I hope you're not relying on me; please don't imagine I'll be any help.'

'I've accomplished many things without you,' said Gawain, 'and I'll do so now, with God's aid.'

With that they charged at each other full tilt; their lances shattered on their shields, and as Sir Gawain galloped past he collided with the knight and sent him and his horse crashing to the ground in a heap. Then he drew his sword and returned to the attack, but the knight shouted:

'No! Sir Gawain, do you mean to kill me? I admit defeat; I've no wish to die through another man's folly; have mercy, I pray you!'

Sir Gawain decided to do him no harm, for he wanted him to do as his master had said. So the knight rose to his feet and held out his hands to Gawain, and did him homage on his lord's behalf for the castle and all his lands, and thus he became his vassal. Without another word the knight departed.

'Oh, sir!' said the Coward Knight. 'I'm glad I'm not as brave as you! If he'd challenged me like that I'd have run straight off or fallen at his feet and begged for mercy.'

'You don't seem to like battle,' said Sir Gawain.

'Which is only right,' said the knight, 'for nothing but ill comes of war. I've never been injured or wounded, except once when I was hit by a branch in the woods. But look at your face - cut and scarred all over! I commend you to God; I'm going to look for the Maiden of the Cart.'

'Stay,' said Sir Gawain. 'Tell me first why the Maiden of the Cart carries her arm in a sling.'

'Willingly, sir,' he said. 'With that hand she presented the Holy Grail to the knight who came to the castle of the Fisher King but failed to ask what was done with the Grail. And because she held in that hand the precious vessel into which the hallowed blood drips from the point of the lance, she won't hold anything else in it until she returns to the holy house of the Grail. And now, sir,' said the Coward Knight, 'I'll take my leave, if it please you; but here, take my lance, for I shan't be needing it.'

Sir Gawain accepted it gratefully, for his own was broken, and then took his leave of the knight, commending him to God.

Gawain rode swiftly on through the forest, until he was tired and weary. Then, just as the sun was about to set, he saw a knight galloping through the trees towards him, and speared he was, and filling the forest with his cries:

'Sir knight! What's your name, sir knight?'

'Good sir, my name is Gawain.'

'Oh, Sir Gawain!' he cried. 'See my wounds, received in your service!'

'In my service?' said Gawain. 'What do you mean?'

'I went to bury the lady, sir, whom you bore to the chapel, but Marin came and attacked me, and wounded me as you see; I'd just dug a grave with my sword when he seized the body from me and abandoned it to the wild beasts. Now I'm going to find the hermit who lives in this forest so that I can make confession, for I know I've not long to live: the wound lies close to my heart. But I shall die the more at ease for having shown you the grief I've come to on your account.'

'By my life,' said Sir Gawain, 'it pains me deeply.'

The knight departed and Sir Gawain rode on until, deep in the forest, he came upon a handsome, splendid castle. Out of the castle an aged knight had ridden to hunt, with a hawk perched on his wrist. He greeted Sir Gawain, who returned the greeting and asked the name of the fine castle he could see. It was the castle, said the knight, of the Proud Maiden, who never deigned to ask any knight his name. 'And we who are in her service dare not ask on her behalf. But you'll be well lodged here, for in other ways she's a most gracious lady, and the most beautiful in all the land. She's never had a husband, nor ever deigned to love a knight unless she heard he was the finest knight in the world. But come, I'll accompany you on your way.'

'Many thanks,' said Sir Gawain.

They rode into the castle together, and dismounted at the steps of the great hall. The knight took Sir Gawain by the hand and led him upstairs to be stripped of his arms, and brought him a coat of rich scarlet cloth all lined with fur, which he fastened for him. Then he brought the lady of the castle to greet Sir Gawain, who rose as she came and said: 'My lady, may good fortune ever follow you!'

'I bid you welcome, sir knight,' she said, and taking him by the hand she led him to the castle chambers. 'Would you like to see my chapel, sir?' she said.

'As you wish, damsel,' said Sir Gawain, and she led him there.

Gawain looked about him and thought he had never entered a chapel so beautiful or so richly adorned. Before him were four tombs, the finest he had ever seen; and on the right-hand side were three recesses in the wall, set all about with gold and precious stones, at the back of which could be seen crosses and amulets and the bright gleam of candles, and they smelt sweeter than balsam.

'Sir,' said the maiden, 'do you see those tombs?'

'Yes, damsel.'

'Three of them have been made for the three finest knights in the world, and the fourth is for me. One of the knights is named Gawain, and another is Lancelot of the Lake, and each of them I love deeply; but the third, whose name is Perceval, I love more than either. In those three recesses relics have been placed out of love for them. But look; I'll show you what I'd do to them if they were here - and if I can't do it to all three, I'll do it at least to one or two.'

She reached towards the recesses and pulled on a golden bolt fixed in the wall, whereupon a steel blade, sharper than a razor, flashed down and closed the three holes.

'This is how I'll cut off their heads when they go to worship the relics in the recesses. Then I'll take their bodies and lay them in these tombs with much honour, richly shrouded. For I can have no joy of them while they're alive, but joy I shall have of them dead; and when I die, I'll be laid to rest in the fourth coffin in the company of the three good knights.'

Sir Gawain heard all this and was amazed, and wished the night were already over.

That night the maiden did Sir Gawain much honour. She had a great company of knights to serve her and to help her defend the castle, and they honoured Gawain highly, though they did not know that it was he, and no-one asked his name for that was not the custom of the castle. But the maiden knew that the three knights she sought often rode through the forest, and she had given orders to four of her knights to keep watch on the forest's paths and bring her any of the three if they should pass by.

Next morning Sir Gawain went to hear mass, and then armed and took his leave of the maiden and her knights and galloped out of the castle with no pressing wish to return. Into the deep forest he went, and had ridden a full league when he came upon two knights sitting in a defile. As soon as they saw him coming they leaped on to their horses, fully armed, and with shields hung from their necks and lances in hand they came to meet him.

'Halt there, sir knight,' they cried, 'and tell us your name!'

'Sirs,' he said, 'I've never kept my name from anyone who asked it. My name is Gawain, the nephew of King Arthur.'

'Oh, you are welcome, sir!' they said. 'We wished for nothing more! Come with us now to the lady on the hill: she's very eager to see you, and will give you a joyful reception at the Proud Castle where she lives!'

'I've no time to go there, sirs,' said Sir Gawain. 'I'm headed elsewhere.'

'You have to come with us, sir! We've been ordered to take you there by force if you won't come with a good grace.'

'I say I will not come,' said Sir Gawain.

At that they seized his bridle, but Gawain, filled with indignation, drew his sword and struck one of the knights with such fury that he cut off his arm. The other dropped the bridle and turned swiftly away, and he and his wounded companion galloped back to the castle where they found the Proud Maiden at the gate and showed her what had befallen them.

'Who did that to you?' she said.

'Sir Gawain, my lady!'

She called for a horn to be sounded at once, and all the knights of the castle took up arms, but just as they were about to set off in pursuit of Gawain, two other knights who had been on watch in the forest appeared, both speared through the body. Sir Gawain had inflicted these terrible wounds, they said, and the knights all agreed that it would be folly to pursue him.

'And it's my lady's fault that she's lost him!' said one. 'We all know it was he who lodged here last night. Was he carrying a red shield with a golden eagle?'

'Indeed he was,' said one of the wounded.