The Marriage of Sir Gawayne

One year the noble King Arthur was celebrating Christmas at Carlisle with great pomp and state. By his side sat his lovely Queen Guinevere, the brightest and most beautiful wife there could be wished for a king, and the Knights of the Round Table gathered around him. Never had a king assembled such a perfect company of valiant warriors as now sat in due order at the Round Table in the great hall of Carlisle Castle, and King Arthur’s heart was filled with pride as he looked on his heroes.

There was Sir Lancelot, not yet the betrayer of his lord’s honour and happiness, with Sir Bors and Sir Banier, there was Sir Bedivere, loyal to King Arthur till death, and Sir Kay, the steward of the king’s household, and King Arthur’s nephews, the young and gallant Sir Gareth, the gentle and courteous Sir Gawayne, and the false, gloomy Sir Mordred, who even then was planning King Arthur’s overthrow. The knights and ladies were ranged in their fitting degrees and ranks, the servants and pages served the guests and filled the golden goblets, and the minstrels sang of heroes of the old times.

Yet in the midst of all this splendour the king was uneasy, for he was a warlike knight and longed for some new adventure, and recently there had been none. Arthur sat moodily and drained his wine-cup in silence, and Queen Guinevere, looking at her husband, did not dare to not interrupt his thoughts. At last the king raised his head, and, hitting the table with his hand, exclaimed: “Are all my knights such cowards, that none of them goes forth to search for adventures? You are better fitted for a feast than for a fight in field! Is my fame so greatly decayed that no man wants to ask for my help or my support against his enemies? I swear that I will not rise from this table till some adventure is organised.”

“Sir, your loyal knights have gathered round you to keep the holy Christmas in your court,” replied Sir Lancelot; and Sir Gawayne said: “Fair uncle, we are not cowards, but few evildoers dare to show themselves under your reign; hence out seeming idleness. But look! By my faith, there is an adventure coming.”

Even as Sir Gawayne spoke, a fair damsel rode into the hall, with flying hair and disordered dress, and, dismounting from her horse, knelt down sobbing at Arthur’s feet. She cried aloud, so that all heard her: “A favour, a favour, King Arthur! I beg a favour of you!”

“What is your request?” said the king, for the maiden was in great distress, and her tears filled his heart with pity. “What would you have of me?”

“I want vengeance on a churlish knight, who has separated my love from me.”

“Tell your story now!” said King Arthur; and all the knights listened while the lady spoke.

“I was betrothed to a gallant knight,” she said, “whom I loved dearly, and we were entirely happy until yesterday. As we rode together, planning our marriage, we came through the moorland to a lake, Tarn Wathelan, where stood a great castle. It seemed a strong and good place, but alas! it stood on magic ground, and within the enchanted circle of its shadow an evil spell fell on every knight who set foot there. Suddenly, a horrible and churlish warrior, twice the size of mortal man, in complete armour, rushed on us; he was fierce, armed with a huge club, and he told my knight to leave me to him and go his way alone. Then my love drew his sword to defend me, but the evil spell had robbed him of all strength, and he could do nothing against the giant’s club; his sword fell from his feeble hand, and the churlish knight, seizing him, placed him into a dungeon. He then returned and sorely ill-treated me, though I prayed for mercy in the name of chivalry and of Mary Mother. At last, when he set me free and let me go, I said I would come to King Arthur’s court and beg a champion to avenge me, perhaps even the king himself. But the giant only laughed. ‘Tell the foolish king,’ said he, ‘that here I shall await his coming, and that no fear of him shall prevent me from doing what I want with all who come. Many knights I have in prison, some of them King Arthur’s own men; so yes, ask him to fight me, if he wants to win them back.’ Thus, laughing loudly at you, King Arthur, the churlish knight returned to his castle, and I rode here as fast as I could.”

When the lady had ended her sorrowful tale, all people present were greatly moved, but King Arthur felt the insult most deeply. He sprang to his feet in great wrath, and cried aloud:

“I vow by my knighthood, and by the Holy Rood, that I will go to find that proud giant, and will never leave him till I have overcome him.” The knights applauded their lord’s vow, but Queen Guinevere looked doubtfully at the king, for she had noticed the damsel’s mention of magic, and she feared some evil adventure for her husband. The damsel stayed in Carlisle that night, and in the morning King Arthur rode away. It was a lonely journey to Tarn Wathelan, but the country was very beautiful, though wild and neglected, and the king soon saw the little lake, clear and cold, below him, while the enchanted castle towered up above the water.

The king drew his sword Excalibur and blew his horn. Thrice his challenge note sounded, but brought no reply, and then he cried aloud: “Come forth, proud knight! King Arthur is here to punish you for your crimes! Come forth and fight bravely. If you are afraid, then come forth and surrender.”

The churlish giant then rushed out of the castle, his massive club in his hands, and rode straight at King Arthur. The spell of the enchanted ground, however, seized the king at that very moment, and his hand sank down. Down fell his good sword Excalibur, down fell his shield, and he found himself absolutely helpless before his enemy.

Now the giant cried aloud: “Surrender or fight, King Arthur; which will you do? If you fight, I shall conquer you, for you have no power to resist me; you will be my prisoner, with no hope of ransom, you will lose your land and spend your life in my dungeon with many other brave knights. If you surrender I will hold you to ransom, but you must swear to accept my terms.”

“What are they?” asked King Arthur.

The giant replied: “You must swear solemnly, by the Holy Rood, that you will return here on New Year’s Day and bring me the true answer to the question, ‘What thing is it that all women most desire?’ If you fail to bring the right answer, your ransom is not paid, and you are still my prisoner. Do you accept my terms?”

The king had no alternative: so long as he stood on the enchanted ground his courage was overborne by the spell and he could only hold up his hand and swear by the Sacred Cross and by Our Lady that he would return, with such answers as he could get, on New Year’s Day.

Ashamed and humiliated, the king rode away, but not back to Carlisle – he would not return home till he had fulfilled his task; so he rode east and west and north and south, and asked every woman and maid he met the question.

“What is it all women most desire?” he asked, and all women gave him different replies: some said richness, some splendour, some pomp; others said that fine clothes were women’s main delight, yet others spoke of sweet words or flattery; and some declared that a handsome lover was the ultimate wish of every woman’s heart. The king was quite confused. He wrote down all the answers he received, and sealed them with his own seal, to give to the churlish knight in a year’s time; but in his own heart King Arthur felt that he had not yet heard the true answer. He was sad as he turned and rode towards the giant’s home on New Year’s Day, for he feared to lose his liberty and lands. The lonely journey now seemed much more tiresome than before, when he rode out from Carlisle so full of hope and courage and self-confidence.

Arthur was riding mournfully through the forest when he heard a woman’s voice greeting him: “God save you, King Arthur! God save and keep you!” and he turned at once to see the person who addressed him. He saw no one at all on his right, but as he turned left he saw a woman’s silhouette clothed in something bright scarlet. The figure was seated between a holly-tree and an oak, and the berries of the former were not more vivid than her dress, and the brown leaves of the latter not more brown and wrinkled than her cheeks. At first sight King Arthur thought he must be bewitched – it was a face from a nightmare! Her nose was crooked and bent to one side, while her chin seemed to bend to the opposite side of her face; her one eye was set deep under her brow, and her mouth was just a gaping slit. She had ragged grey hair, being herself deadly pale, with a dimmed blue eye.

The king nearly fainted when he saw this hideous sight, and was so amazed that he did not answer her greeting. The horrible lady seemed angered by it: “Now Christ save you, King Arthur! Who are you to refuse to answer my greeting? Little of courtesy have you and your knights in your court if you cannot return a lady’s greeting. Yet, Sir King, proud as you are, maybe I can help you, however horrible I seem; but I will do nothing for one who will not be courteous to me.”

King Arthur was ashamed of his lack of courtesy, and tempted by the hint that here was a woman who could help him. “Forgive me, lady,” said he; “I was troubled in mind, and not for the lack of courtesy I missed your greeting. You say that you can perhaps help me; if you would do this, lady, and teach me how to pay my ransom, I will grant anything you ask as a reward.”

The deformed lady said: “Swear to me, by Holy Rood, and by Mary Mother, that you will grant me whatever I ask, and I will help you to the secret. Yes, Sir King, I know that you are looking for the answer to the question, ‘What is it all women most desire?’ Many women have given you many replies, but I alone, by my magic power, can give you the right answer. This secret I will tell you, and in truth it will pay your ransom, if you swear to grant me a favour.”

“Indeed, O grim lady, I’ll swear gladly,” said King Arthur; and when he had sworn it, with uplifted hand, the lady told him the secret, and he laughed loudly and confessed that this was indeed the right answer.

On the New Year’s Day, the churlish knight was already waiting for him, and rushed forth, club in hand, ready for the battle. “Sir Knight,” said the king, “I bring here writings containing answers to your question; they are replies that many women gave me, and at least some of them should be right; these I bring in ransom for my life and lands.”

The churlish knight took the writings and read them one by one, and each one he threw aside, till all had been read; then he said to the king: “You must surrender yourself and your lands to me, King Arthur, and remain my prisoner; for though these answers are many and wise, not one is the true reply to my question. So your ransom is not paid, and your life and all you have is now mine!”

“Alas! Sir Knight,” said the king, “let me speak once more before I surrender to you. This morning as I rode through the forest I saw a lady sitting, dressed in scarlet, between an oak and a holly-tree; she told me that all women will have their own way, and this is their chief desire. Now confess that in the end I have brought the true answer to your question, and that I am free, and have paid the ransom for my life and lands.”

The giant was furious, and shouted: “A curse upon that lady who told you this! It must have been my sister, for none but she knew the answer. Tell me, was she ugly and deformed?” When King Arthur replied that she was not a very beautiful lady, the giant burst out: “I vow to heaven that if I ever catch her, I will burn her alive; for she has cheated me of being King of Britain. Go, Arthur; you have not ransomed yourself, but the ransom is paid and you are free.”

Gladly the king rode back to the forest where the lady awaited him, and stopped to greet her. “I am free now, lady, thanks to you! What favour do you ask in reward for your help? I have promised to grant it you, whatever it may be.”

“This is my plead, King Arthur. You will bring some young and courteous knight from your court in Carlisle to marry me, and he must be brave and handsome. You have sworn to fulfil my request, and you cannot break your word.”

These last words were spoken as the king shook his head and seemed on the point of refusing; but at this reminder he only hung his head and rode slowly away, while the lady watched him with a look of mixed pain and glee.

On the second day of the new year King Arthur came home to Carlisle. Wearily he went into his hall, where sat Queen Guinevere. She had been very anxious during her husband’s absence, for she was afraid of magic, but she greeted him gladly and said: “Welcome, my dear lord and king, welcome home again! What anxiety I have endured for you! But now you are here, and all is well. What news do you bring, my friend? Is the churlish knight conquered? Tell me your news, and we will rejoice together.”

King Arthur only sighed heavily as he replied: “Alas! I have boasted too much! It was a long and weary quest, and in the end I was helped by one old, deformed lady; but that help was dearly bought, and I cannot pay the price myself.”

At this moment Sir Gawayne, the king’s favourite nephew, entered the hall and greeted his uncle warmly; then, with a few questions, he learnt the king’s news, and saw that the latter was in some distress.

“What have you paid the lady for her secret, uncle?” he asked.

“Alas! I myself paid her nothing; but I promised to grant her any favour she asked for, and she has asked a thing impossible.”

“What is it?” asked Sir Gawayne. “Since you have promised it, the promise must be kept. Can I help you to perform your vow?”

“Yes, you can, my dear nephew Gawayne, but I will never ask you to do a thing so terrible,” said King Arthur.

“I am ready to do it, uncle, even if it is to marry that deformed lady herself.”

“Ah! That is what she asks, that a fair young knight should marry her! But she is too hideous and deformed; no man could make her his wife.”

“If that is all your grief,” replied Sir Gawayne merrily, “things shall soon be settled; I will marry this poor dame, and it will be your ransom.”

“You know not what you offer,” answered the king. “I never saw such a deformed creature. Her speech is well enough, but her face is terrible, with crooked nose and chin, and she has only one eye.”

“She must be an ill-favoured maiden; but I care not, if I can save you from trouble.”

“Thank you, dear Gawayne, thank you a thousand times! Now, through your devotion, I can keep my word. Tomorrow we must take your bride from her lonely lodging in the greenwood; but we will invent some pretext for the journey. I will organise a hunting party, and none shall know that we go to bring home so ugly a bride.”

“Gramercy, uncle,” said Sir Gawayne. “Till tomorrow I am a free man.”

Next day King Arthur went hunting with all his court in the wood close to Tarn Wathelan. They chased a deer far into the forest, where they lost him. But, though the chase was fruitless, the knights laughed and talked merrily as they rode back through the forest, and the merriest of all was Sir Gawayne; he rode wildly down the forest pathways, so recklessly that he drew level with Sir Kay who always preferred to ride alone. Sir Lancelot, Sir Stephen, Sir Banier, and Sir Bors all looked wonderingly at the reckless youth; but his younger brother, Gareth, was troubled, for he felt something was wrong with Gawayne, while Sir Tristram, buried in his love for Isolde, noticed nothing.

Suddenly Sir Kay stopped his horse, amazed; he saw something scarlet under the trees, and as he looked he became aware of a woman, dressed in a finest scarlet and sitting between a holly-tree and an oak.

“Good greeting to you, Sir Kay,” said the lady, but the steward was too much amazed to answer. Such a face as that of the lady he had never even imagined, and he took no notice of her salutation. By this time the rest of the knights had joined him, and they all stopped there, looking in astonishment on the misshapen face of the poor creature. Most of the knights were silent, because they were ready to pity her; but the steward soon recovered from his amazement, and his rude nature began to show itself. The king had not yet appeared, and Sir Kay began to make jokes aloud.

“Now which of you would like to woo that fair lady?” he asked. “It takes a brave man, for I think any kiss he may get will be scary enough. But wait, I don’t know; any man who would kiss this beautiful damsel may well miss the way to her mouth, and his fate is not quite so horrible after all. Come, who will win a lovely bride?”

Just then King Arthur rode up, and at sight of him Sir Kay was silent; but the lady hid her face in her hands, and cried bitterly that he should pour such scorn upon her.

Only Sir Gawayne was touched with compassion for the woman among these gallant and handsome knights, and he said: “Peace, churl Kay, the lady cannot help herself; and you are, apparently, not so noble and courteous that you have the right to laugh at any maiden; such deeds do not become a knight of Arthur’s Round Table. Besides, one of us knights here must marry this unfortunate lady.”

“Marry her?” shouted Kay. “Gawayne, you are mad!”

“It is true, is it not, my lord?” asked Sir Gawayne, turning to the king; and Arthur reluctantly acknowledged.

Sir Kay burst out with, “What? Ask me, perchance, to marry this ugly creature? It will never be! Wherever I get my wife from, maybe from the devil himself, this hideous witch shall never be mine.”

“Peace, Sir Kay,” said the king sternly; “you shall not abuse this poor lady as well as refuse her. Mend your speech, or you shall be a knight of mine no longer.”

Then he turned to the others and said: “Who will marry this lady and help me to keep my royal pledge? You must not all refuse, for my promise is given, and for a little ugliness and deformity you shall not make me break my word of honour.”

As he spoke he watched them attentively, to see who would prove sufficiently devoted, but the knights all began to excuse themselves and to depart. They called their hounds, mounted their horses, and pretended to search for the track of the lost deer again; but before they went Sir Gawayne cried aloud:

“Friends, stop excusing and debating, for I will marry this lady myself. Lady, will you have me for your husband?” Thus saying, he dismounted and knelt before her.

The poor lady had at first no words to express her gratitude to Sir Gawayne, but when she had recovered a little she spoke: “Alas! Sir Gawayne, I fear you are joking. Will you marry the one so ugly and deformed as me? What sort of wife should I be for a knight so joyful and gallant, so fair and handsome as the king’s own nephew? What will Queen Guinevere and the ladies of the Court say when you return to Carlisle bringing with you such a bride? You will be ashamed, and all because of me.”

Then she cried bitterly again, and it made her seem even more hideous; but King Arthur, who was watching the scene, said: “Lady, I would like see that person who dares to mock at my nephew’s bride. I will take order that no such unknightly discourtesy is shown in my court,” and he looked angrily at Sir Kay and the others who had stayed, seeing that Sir Gawayne was prepared to sacrifice himself and therefore they were safe.

The lady raised her head, and Sir Gawayne took her hand, saying: “Lady, I will be a true and loyal husband to you if you will have me; and I shall know how to guard my wife from insult. Come, and my uncle will announce the betrothal.”

Now she seemed to believe that Sir Gawayne was speaking in earnest, and she sprang to her feet, saying: “Thank you! A thousand thanks, Sir Gawayne, and blessings on your head! You shall never regret this wedding, and the courtesy you have shown. Take we now to Carlisle.”

A horse was brought for Sir Gawayne’s bride, but, when the lady rose, it became evident that she was lame, and, moreover, that there was a slight hunch on her shoulders. Both of these deformities were not obvious little when she was seated, but as she moved the knights looked at one another, shrugged their shoulders and pitied Sir Gawayne, whose courtesy had bound him for life to such an awful woman. Then the whole party rode away, the bride between King Arthur and her betrothed, and all the knights whispering and sneering behind them. Great was the excitement in Carlisle to see that ugly dame, and greater still the amazement in the court when they were told that this old-looking lady was Sir Gawayne’s bride.

Only Queen Guinevere understood, and she showed all courtesy to the deformed woman, and stood by her as her lady-of-honour when the wedding took place that evening, while King Arthur was groomsman to his nephew. When the long banquet was over, the tables were cleared and the hall was prepared for a dance, the men thought that Sir Gawayne would be free for a time to talk with his friends; but he refused.

“Bride and bridegroom must dance the first dance together, if she wishes it,” said he, offering the lady his hand.

“I thank you, sweet husband,” said the grim lady as she took it and moved forward to open the dance with him. So perfect was his dignity, and the courtesy and grace with which he danced, that no man dreamt of smiling as the deformed lady moved clumsily through the dance.

At last the long evening was over, the last dances finished, the last cup drained, the bride escorted to her chamber, the lights out, the guests separated in their rooms, and Gawayne was free to think of what he had done, and to consider how he had ruined his whole hope of happiness. He thought of his uncle’s favour, of the poor lady’s gratitude and her blessings, and he decided to be gentle with her, though he could never love her as his wife. He entered the bride-chamber with the feeling of a man who has made up his mind to endure, and did not even look towards his bride, who sat awaiting him beside the fire. Choosing a chair, he sat down and looked sadly into the fire, but said nothing.

“Have you no word for me, husband? Can you not even look at me?” asked the lady, and Sir Gawayne turned his eyes to her; and then he sprang up in amazement, for there sat not an ugly and deformed creature, but a maiden young and lovely, with black eyes and long curls of dark hair, with beautiful face and tall and graceful figure.

“Who are you, maiden?” asked Sir Gawayne.

She replied: “I am your wife, whom you found between the oak and the holly-tree, and whom you married this night.”

“But how is it possible?”

“It is an enchantment with which I am bound,” said she. “I am not yet entirely free from it, but now for a time I may appear to you as I really am. Is my lord content with his loving bride?” asked she, with a smile, as she rose and stood before him.

“Content!” he said, as he grasped her in his arms. “I would not change my dear lady for the fairest dame in Arthur’s court, even Queen Guinevere herself. I am the happiest knight in the world! I thought to save my uncle and help a poor lady, and I have won my own happiness this way. Truly I shall never regret the day when I married you, dear heart.”

Long they sat and talked together, and then Sir Gawayne grew tired, and was going to go to bed, but his lady said:

“Husband, now a hard choice awaits you. I am under the spell of an evil witch, who has given me my own face and form for half the day, and the hideous appearance in which you first saw me for the other half. Choose now whether you will have me fair by day and ugly by night, or vice versa. The choice is your own.”

Sir Gawayne no longer wanted to sleep; the choice before him was too difficult. If the lady remained hideous by day, he would have to endure the jokes of his fellows; if by night, he would be unhappy himself. If the lady were fair by day, other men might like her, and he himself would have no love for her; if she were fair to him alone, his love would make her look ridiculous before the court and the king. Nevertheless, acting on the spur of the moment, he spoke: “Oh, be fair to me only – be your old self by day, and let me have my beautiful wife to myself alone.”

“Alas! is that your choice?” she asked. “I must be ugly when all are beautiful, I must be despised when all other ladies are admired? I am as fair as they, but I must seem a monster to all men. Is this your love, Sir Gawayne?” and she turned from him, crying.

Sir Gawayne was filled with pity and remorse when he heard her lament, and began to realize that he was considering his own pleasure, but not his lady’s feelings, and his courtesy and gentleness again won the upper hand.

“Dear love, if you would rather that men should see you fair, I will choose that, though to me you will be always as you are now. Be fair before others and deformed to me alone, and men shall never know that the enchantment is not wholly removed.”

Now the lady looked pleased for a moment, and then said in a serious tone: “Have you thought of the danger to which a young and lovely lady is exposed in the court? There are many false knights who would like a fair dame, even if her husband is the king’s favourite nephew; and who can tell? – one of them might please me more than you. I am sure that many will be sorry they refused to marry me when they see me tomorrow morning.”

She looked merrily at Sir Gawayne as she spoke. He was thinking seriously for some time, and then said:

“No, dear love, I will leave the matter to you and your own wisdom, for you are wiser in this matter than me. I leave it to you to decide, and I will be content with whatever you choose.”

Now the fair lady clapped her hands lightly, and said: “Blessings on you, dear Gawayne, my dear lord and husband! Now you have released me from the spell completely, and I shall always be as I am now, fair and young, till old age shall change my beauty.

My father was a great duke who had one son and one daughter – my brother and me – both of us dearly loved, and both good-looking. But just when I came to an age to be married, my father decided to take a new wife, and it so happened that he married a witch. She, in turn, decided to get rid of his two children, and cast a spell upon us both, so I was transformed from a fair lady into the hideous monster who you have married, and my gallant young brother into the churlish giant who lives at Tarn Wathelan. She condemned me to keep that awful shape until I married a young and courteous knight who would do me all the favours I ask for. You have done all this for me, and from now on I shall be always your fond and faithful wife. My brother too is set free from the spell, and he will become again one of the truest and most gentle knights alive, though none can be superior to my own true knight, Sir Gawayne.”

The next morning the knight and his bride descended to the great hall, where many knights and ladies awaited them, the former thinking scornfully of the hideous monster whom Gawayne had married, the latter pitying so young and gallant a knight, tied to such an ugly lady. But both scorn and pity vanished, however, when saw the bride.

“Who is this fair dame?” asked Sir Kay.

“Where have you left your ancient bride?” asked another.

“This is the lady to who I married yesterday evening,” replied Sir Gawayne. “She was under an evil enchantment, which was broken now that she has come under the power of a husband, and so my fair wife will be one of the most beautiful ladies of King Arthur’s court. Besides, my lord King Arthur, she has assured me that the churlish knight of Tarn Wathelan, her brother, was also under a spell, which is now broken, and he will become again a courteous and gallant knight. The ground on which his fortress stands will have no magic power anymore. Dear uncle, when I got married yesterday to the horrible lady I thought only of your happiness, and in that way I have won my own lifelong bliss.”

King Arthur’s joy at his nephew’s happiness was great, for he had grieved sorely over Gawayne’s miserable fate, and Queen Guinevere welcomed the fair maiden as warmly as she had the loathly lady, and the wedding feast was renewed with greater magnificence, as a fitting end to the Christmas celebrations.