the anturs of arther

8/3/2019 The Anturs of Arther

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The Antursof Arther

A Middle English Romance

Paraphrased by Giles Watson

2012


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Part 1: The Hunt


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n the time of Arthur, a tale was untwined

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Beside the Tarn Wathelan, as told in the book:To Carlisle he came, of the conquering kind,With knights and with nobles who hunt in the brakes

Who harry the herd and on the deer dine,And drive the stags down the steep woodland bank

Deep into the dells to herd with the hinds.When hunting was done the hart by the brook

Both the king and the queenCame, and riding between,Gawain garbed in green,

Led Gaynore down the track.

Gawain led Gaynore down green woodland rides

In a glittering gown that gleamed so gay,

All trimmed with bright ribbons so the tale reads Ribbons of red, and in richest array.Her hood of grey hue her shadowed head hides,

In purples and silks stones glint in a spray And clad in a cloak the rain hardly heeds,Set with bright sapphires she rides on her way:

Sapphires and celidonies stitched to her hems.3

2Sir Gawain was one of the stock figures of Arthurian Romance an apparently unassuming, self-critical figure whose true virtues become evident in testing

times. His most famous appearance is in the alliterative poem in the Staffordshire dialect known as Sir Gawain and the Green Knight the work of a poet of

consummate skill, translated in the past century by both J.R.R. Tolkien and Simon Armitage. TheAnturs of Arthermay be a dim reflection of that poems

brilliance, but the opening section - in which Gawain, in his role as champion of his kings wife Gaynore (Guinevere), is confronted by the ghost of his Ladys

mother, in a rather grisly guise is certainly compelling. Unlike the Gawain poet, who relies wholly on alliteration, the author of this poem has also adopted a

tyrannical rhyme-scheme which sometimes feels forced, but which also lends the poem a relentless forward movement, and works particularly well in the

passages which exploit black comedy. The sudden shifts in tense are dramatic devices which were commonly employed in mediaeval narratives, all of whichwere originally designed for listening audiences.

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Her saddle is slickWith jewels and silkAnd white as wet milk

As gaily she glides.

So Dame Gaynore the good how gaily she glidesDown the glade with Gawain

4, by a mossy green well

5,

And this man on his mount by the white queen abides,

Burgundy-born, by book and by bell,And leads her a long way at the lakes lapping sides.

By a lush laurel, at the foot of the fell.Arthur, earl-flanked, earnestly rides,And sets them their stations, truly to tell:

Their trysts with the stags: by trees they abide.Each lord, on demand,

By a trunk takes his stand6

With bow and with hound,

Where the branches reach wide.

And under the boughs, they bide brash and bold,

To kill barren does on the hillsides so bare,7

3 Detailed descriptions of the sumptuous costumes and jewellery of the ladies of court were a common feature of chivalric romances, but in this instance, the

author is emphasising their luxury for a different reason: the ghosts condemnation of pride will set Gaynores riches in a new perspective.4

Throughout the poem, the author exploits this connection between Gaynore and Gawaine: they are clearly closer to each other than Gaynore can ever be toher husband.5 The reference to the green well is one of several indications that the author was well-acquainted with the atmospheric devices of the earlier alliterative

romance, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.6 In other words, each knight waits beside a trysting tree: an appointed place towards which the beaters will chase the deer in order that they can be slain.

Mediaeval poets were fond of the trysting tree as a metaphor for loves entrapment: the archetypal examples being the tryst beneath the tree between Tristan

and Isolde and the tryst between Troilus and Cressida.7 The poet is at pains to point out at the beginning that the action takes place at the end of the hunting season. All others have slaked their blood-lust, but the

knights of Arthurs court are still thirsty for it. The intended killing of the does so rudely interrupted by the appearance of a female ghost is surely a sign oftheir rapaciousness.


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And the men are amazed, the herds to behold,And hearken to hunting-horns, brazen their blare.They cast off their leashes, on cliffs so cold,

Encourage their hounds to kill and not care,Culling the does, and in numbers untold,

With hounds fell and feisty whose loping spells fear.As they sweat, pant and slaver, and paw on the mould

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They sniff and they kill

By the woods and the hill.The deer in the dell

All scatter and scare.

And darkly the deer drift through the dim woods,

And dreading her death, she cowers, the doe.Like rapids on rivers, and wild, rushing winds,

Like boars that blare from their nostrils, and blow,The hunters, they hail, and their word wakes the wilds

And rankles the horns that rise up from the Roe.No rest will they grant, and nature is riled -Though greyhounds in green groves, gladly they go!

Yes, gladly they go, under groves growing wild.The king calls the chaseAnd they follow the trace

At a cantering pace

They would hunt the whole world!

Yes, they surge in their sport, the seemliest knights,

Seeking their sovereign, deep in the green,All but Sir Gawain, chivalrous knight,Who is wooded with Gaynore under the green:

8 This line is missing, so I have offered a reconstruction, marked in italics.


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Each wept like a child.

She stops and she shudders, Dame Gaynore the gay,

And says to Sir Gawaine, What do you think?It is but an eclipse, I heard scholars say

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Thus he comforts his queen, and tries not to shrink.She cries, Sir Cador, Constantine, Clegius and Cay

Are uncourteous knights who cower and blink!

By Cross and by Creed, they have scurried away,And the gruesomest ghost awaits on the brink!

Grieve not! cried Gawain, To the ghost I shall say,You are spirit, not flesh,

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Im not craven nor nesh

Your woes Ill unmesh,And Ill send you away!

All bare was its body, and blackened its bone

All shrouded in cloud, and evilly clad.It yammered and yowled fit to cave in a brain No womanly skin or complexion it had.

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It stopped and it stood, as still as a stone,It moaned and it mumbled, and murmured like mad!To the grisly ghost Sir Gawaine has gone

At a run, like a raider, never afraid,

(I am rarely a craven was Gawains refrain).14

On her skull of grim boneA toad sat enthroned,

11 Mediaeval scholars were already adept at predicting eclipses, although at least one that which preceded the Council of Whitby was seen as supernatural,

and consequently helped to change the course of history. The poet resolutely steers away from Gawaines naturalistic explanation.12 It now becomes clear what lesson Gawaine must learn: the flesh is transitory, but the spirit endures, even in the most wretched form. 13

The description of the ghost of Gaynores mother is a deliberately calculated juxtaposition with the description of Gaynores own costume. 14 Ironic since Gawaine needs to learn that an excess of courage is just as much of an impediment to the spirit as excessive cowardice.


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And bleak as a moanHer eyes glowed with pain.

Agleam like the glade, the ghastly ghost glidesEnclosed in a cloud, in clothing unclear,

Beset with spry serpents15

that cling to its sides My tongue dare not tell of the toads at its ear

He unscabbards his sword and boldly abides,

His countenance still, unquivered by fear.The hounds slink in hollows, and chivalry hides,

And the ground is aghast, all grimy and drear Even the greyhounds stand gaunt, yet hang near.

16

The birds in a host

All stare at the ghostAnd screech like the lost

As the leaf meets the sere.

15 Perhaps the author makes little distinction between serpents and worms. Indeed, the etchers of grotesque cadaver brasses made little distinction between the

two in the same period.16 Even the hounds have more gumption than King Arthurs knights.


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Part 2: The Ghosts Complaint


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he beaters all heard, though they stood far behind,

The jaw on the dewlap17, the channering chin;The knight called on Christ he cried to the wind By the king on the Cross, the cleanser of sin,

Tell me, cursed creature, whats on your mind,And why walk these woods, so wasted and thin?

I used to be fair; my flesh was once fine,Christened and chrismed, and kings were my kin.

Bold, brash and brave, those ancestors of mine,And God grants me graceTo do penance in this place,

And I turn my gaunt faceTo screech at your Queen.

I was brighter than her than sunlight in May

Brighter than Brangeuayne or Beryl of old18

.Friendship and freedom and unfettered playI had greater than Gaynore, and good hoards of gold!

Of palaces, parks, of ponds, such display,Of towers, of towns, of treasures untold,Of castles and countries, of cliffs, in my day,

But now I am snatched off, shivering and cold,

In a fever of fretting and cowering in clay19

:Lo, courteous knight,

Deaths a doleful, sad blight;

17 A clever device. We think at first that the author is referring to the quaking jaws of the terrified deer and only realise afterwards that it is the flapping

jawbone of a decayed and animated human cadaver. 18In the story of Tristan and Isolde, Brangeuayne takes Isoldes place in Tristans bed, in order to suggest that her mistress is innocent of adultery. It is

probably also significant that Beryl is the name of a precious stone, as well as a womans Christian name.19 A literal description of the bodys location. It later becomes obvious that the soul itself is in Purgatory.

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Let me once have a sightOf Gaynore the gay!

And Sir Gawaine the Good goes up to the QueenAnd brings to the corpse the kings beautiful bird.

It says, Welcome Gaynore such woes I have seen20

Look! Doleful Death made your mother his bride!

My cheek was once crimson, like the rose on the green,

My skin like the lilies that bloomed at its side.Now Im a ghost, and grisly my groan,

In Lucifers lake Im compelled to abide:This is my lot, girl listen and learn!Your fur and your ring,

Your mirrors that sing,Your dukes and your King

Shall be harried, and burn!

This death you shall die, I say without doubt,So take hearty heed, while you are still here,When in richest array

21, as you ride in the rout,

Be kind to the poor, whilst theres still time to care,When beggars and bairns beset you aboutBeware, for your body will ride on a bier,

And those who once doted will soon turn to doubt.

Then nothing will help but the holiest prayer,For the prayers of the poor may purchase you peace:Give them alms at the gate

And send them your meatWhen youre sitting in state

20 From this point onwards, the testimony of Gaynores mother on the sufferings of the afterlife seems to prefigure that of the ghost of Hamlets father.

21An ironic repetition of a phrase which is used more than once in the poem.


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Long before your surcease22

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Before your surcease, when the feast is being served,

And I rot in the dungeon doomed there to dwell Needy and naked, scorned and enslaved

(My home is a-simmer, an outpost of Hell)By a dozen black demons Im basted and seared

On brass grates and brimstone, like a steak on a grill.

My skin is all blistered, my eyes are both bleared,My tongue torn in two by the torments I tell.

Hear as I speak what you fear to know:Now think upon this,For your sin is amiss,

Youre a hussy for blissAnd youll share in my woe!

22 The poets perspective on the chivalric romance starts to become clear: what is important is not deeds of arms, but the salvation of the human soul through

deeds ofalms. Gaynores mother warns her that if she does not care for the poor in this life, she will be in a worse situation than theirs in the next.


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Part 3: The Ghosts Demands


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grieve for your fate, said Gaynore, and wish

You redeemed. Mother, I ask, though I barely dare,

Whether Matins and Mass might serve to washYou of sin or jewels of the earth help you to fare

Better? Might bishops with beads bring you to bliss,Or cloisters and covenants heal you of care?

For you were my mother, how horrid it is:Your body was beautiful; now it is bare!

Yes, worms bared my body, and who is to blame?

You know this is true:Vows were broken. I rue

The day! So do you!I am writhing in pain!

Then tell, groaned Gaynore, What penance might

Save you? And what saint plead for thy sake?

For baleful beasts blast your body with blight,Your blood blinds my eyes can mere worms break

You? Worms are my paramours23

, writhing and white,They sink me down softly to dwell in a lake.Even these words are wombed in black night,

And wretched the worms each writhes like a snake.In torment I toss Gaynore, know this:

Were nine hundred masses doneAt Matins and Nones,

My saved soul would soonGrope gladly for bliss.

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23An anticipation of the last scene ofRomeo and Juliet.24

A clear affirmation of the ghosts (and by implication, the poets) belief in the efficacy of prayers for the dead. It is clear that the author is not a Lollard,

although it is possible that s/he had access to scriptural translations of Lollard provenance.

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May he bring you to bliss, who bought us with blood,Who hung clear on a cross

25and was crowned with thorns,

Christened and chrismed with candle and creed,

In a font of cold stone, baptised newborn;And mild mother Mary who nurtured the seed,

And swaddled the bairn of Bethlehem born:May they give me the grace to turn your fate good

Through prayers at Mass, and Matins at morn.

Keep mindful at Mass, and meekly imploreHim, who hung on a rood

Staunched evil with goodWith his deluge of blood To abide at your door!

I stretch forth my hand! I repent as you scold!

A million masses may silence your groaning But one thing, cried Gaynore, I need to be told

What sin angers Christ, that I should be disowning?Pride

26and pretences - read the prophets of old

Made plain to all people pay heed to their preaching!

Prides branches bear bitter fruit; you must be bold,For thousands are doomed, ignoring Gods bidding,All of them damned, stripped bare of bliss.

In Christ put your trust

To purge you of lust

25The Middle English text uses the word clarifet the origin of our modern clarified. The phrase is not heretical: it implies not that Christ was cleansed of

sin on the Cross, but that his glory was made manifest. However, the word-choice does suggest familiarity with a vernacular translation of the Gospel of John

(pers. comm., Yvonne Parrey, 2012: John 23 in the Scottish Bible, has "The houre cummis, that mannis sonn be clarifiet", which in the Vulgate is "Venit hora,

ut clarificetur Filius hominis", so the Scots is not a bad translation. It is normally translated in modern English as "The hour has come for the Son of Man to

receive great glory.") In the context of a chivalric romance, the choice of a vernacular word pointing to the deity of Christ clearly has a didactic purpose:

knighthood is not everything; there is a more valid way to glory.26 Compare this phrase with the later descriptions of the pomp and ceremony of King Arthurs court.


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Or suffer you must Gaynore, hear this!

Now hearme, wept Gaynore27, grisly ghost,What is the penance or prayer that will save?

Meekness, it moaned, is what you need most,And pity the poor: youll be one in the grave!

The charitable please Christ more than the chaste

Its better to give alms than be boastful or brave:These are the gifts of the Holy Ghosts grace,

Inspiring each soul, salvation to crave!But speak no more to the chantry

28make haste!

Queen in your comfort, who charms a whole state,

Hold these words in your heart:We live once, then depart!

Child, look to your fate!

How shall we fare, cried Gawaine, who are fickle and fight,And are quick to oppress the poor of the land,And overrun the world, and fight against right,

And war for mens worship, by might of our hands?29

Your king is too covetous; so are his knights!The Great Wheel

30will revolve but a moment it stands

Still! When hes majestic, and high in his might,

The Wheel shall swing low, as justice demands!

27 The degree to which womens voices dominate this portion of the poem is significant, since they will play a defining role at its resolution. 28

Chantry chapels were specifically set aside and often purpose-built for clergy or monks to say prayers for the souls of the dead.29 Despite the apparent religious orthodoxy of this part of the poem, it works against the spirit of the traditional mediaeval romance, which customarily lauded

knights deeds-at-arms. Gawaine, ever conscientious, realises that Arthurs knights are rapacious, and that the ghosts command that Gaynore must care for the

poor is diametrically opposed to the chivalric ideal since the poor are always the first to suffer at the hands of warriors. 30

The Wheel of Fortune: a common motif in mediaeval art and literature. Artistic depictions of the Wheel commonly depict a crowned king sitting at its apex,

and a Fool at its nadir the implication being that a brief rotation will reverse their positions.


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Thus shall misfortune bring misery and blight!Fell Fortune, by night,Is an awesome wheelwright

Whose spokes turn in spiteAt a touch of his hands!


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Part 4: The Ghosts Predictions


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n France31

you have fought, and by force you have wonVassals and villeins, to drudgery doomed,Brittany and Burgoyne are both under your thumb

Amid deafening clamour, all France has been claimed,And Gian

32regrets it was ever begun:

There are no living left not wounded or maimed,And yet the rich Romans will soon overrun,

Your fabled Round Table turned over and shamed.

The Tamar33

will stop you, and Arthur will fall.Gawaine, you must choose

Tuscany or crows34

,For Arthur shall loseHis throne to his thrall.

A knight35

shall come stealthily, seizing the crown,

And at Carlisle be crowned as a king;Hell pause not to parley, take the land for his own,

And slander and strife on Britain hell bring.Theyll tell you in Tuscany

36, treasons enthroned,

Youll turn in your tracks to hear such a thing:

The Round Tables glory will lose all renown,And at Romsey

37the red blades shall ring.

Hell die in distress, the doughtiest of all:

31 The Arthurian romances originally a British (and more specifically, Welsh) tradition were appropriated by French writers, and then re-imported. The

Anturs post-date this process, and they also appear to reflect on the meddling of Plantagenet English kings in continental matters.32Guienne: listed as one of Arthurs conquests in theMorte Arthur.33

The river which divides Cornwall from the rest of England, and a traditional site for the Battle of Camlann. The poet confuses this with battles against the

Roman Empire.34

Gawaine must choose between the lands he has gained through Arthurs conquests, or an honest death. 35Mordred, Arthurs bastard son.36

Arthur travels through Tuscany as he hears of Mordreds treachery in theMorte Arthur.37 Another likely reference to theMorte, which mentions Dorset as the scene of one of Arthurs battles.

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Get you well, Gawaine,Boldest knight in Britain,In a ditch youll be slain;

And fates blade shall fall.

Fates blade shall fall, and slice you like stubble,On Cornwalls coast pay heed to my words

And there, honest Arthur, overcome by the rabble,

Shall be sliced by swords, most woeful his wounds,And routed and ruined, every knight of the Table:

Theyll all die that day, lives lost in the wind.Surprise shall defeat them: a knight shielded in sable:A St. Andrews cross with silver entwined38.

I said, sable his shield! Sooth for to say:In King Arthurs hall

The child plays at ballWho shall conquer you all

Cruelly that day!

Good day to you Gawaine, and Gaynore, be good!

My time has run out, though I had more to tell,For I must walk my way, through yonder dark wood,To whimper with woe and to broil in hell!

By him who righteously hung on the rood,

Remember my pain, and the place where I dwell.Lift up my soul and seek succour from God,Buy Matins and Masses, and pay for them well,

For Masses are medicines, purging all pride:Now a Mass seems more sweetThan the spices you eat

38 The heraldic symbols of Mordred.


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And with no more debate,Away the ghost glides.


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Part 5: Sir

Galerons Challenge


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ith grisly gasps the ghost glides away,

Groaning and griping and bawling aloud.Wind buffets the world and brings back the day,The sun waxes clear, and uncovers the cloud.

The king blows his bugle and rides in array;His fair knights in the field, they flock in a crowd.

To the queen they all ride; they dare not delay,And speak to her mildly, undaunted and proud,

Pretending no weather had forced their retreat:Pomps princes in pride,Gaynores silks at their sides,

To Rondallsete rideTo drink and to eat.

Arthur sat at his supper, with servants at his side,

Under slivers of silk, with dainties galore,With wealth at his willing, and wine at his word,With pastry and bacon, gold-leafed without flaw,

There came a musician, whose psaltery cried,And a lissom lady

39led a worn man of war.

He rode through the hall, and grimly he called,

Hailing King Arthur, hearty and sure,

And he said to the sovereign, splendidly crowned,Youre unequalled in might

Im an heir and a knight,So match reason with right

And be more renowned!

39 The description of Galerons lady is as glorious as that of Gaynore herself: hinting at their rivalry, but also providing the common ground which will lead to

both of them pleading for an end to the jousting as the poem reaches its climax.

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Manly in his mantle, Arthur sat at his meat,In silk trimmed with fur, all ermine-white,Knitted and knotted, calm and complete,

With tassels of topaz embroidered so tight.40

He lifted his eyes, all grey and effete,

His beard red-brown, and his mail gleaming bright:The seemliest sovereign to sit in a seat

That ever a vassal had held in his sight,

And comely, the King, too composed to compete,Says, Come, burly wight,

From your hot horse alight!What worries you, knight?Make confession complete!

He was the worthiest knight you ever beheld:

His robe was a glory; no grass was as green.His lady bore blankets embroidered with birds,

Beaten with gold, and with clasps like a queen.The plaits in her hair were bejewelled like a brides,Her headdress was ribboned, with gold weaved between,

And comely her crown, bright to behold,With curious kerchiefs, each clasped with a pin,Her apparel: provocation to princes of might,

And each knight longed to hold

Her bright birds, weaved bold,A sweet pain to behold,In front of her knight:

A knight in full colours, his arms in full sheen,His helmet-crest comely, and bright to behold,

40 The description of Arthurs costume is also designed to conflict with the ghosts advice about humility.


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His mail and his mantle were blazoned and clean,And bordered about with hot-burnished gold.His tabard milk-white, and weaved like a dream,

With trappings to match (as I have been told),With a shield on his shoulder of shimmering sheen,

With boars heads of black, and brows glowering bold.His steed was with sandalwood smeared to the heel,

His chevron adorned

Like a bold unicorn,As sharp as a thorn,

With a spike of pure steel.

In steel was he surfeited, sitting stern on his steed,

Adorned with bright stars which shone in a spray.His garments and gloves were glowing like gold,

Weaved with bold ribbons, in richest array,With shin-guards of iron, cut cleanly and cold,

His knees jewelled green an emerald display.His lance was aloft and his aspect was bold;His mount was a Fresian steed

41, hot from the fray,

But skittish and nervous, well-trained for war,Yet distracted to seeSuch bright fleurs-de-lys:

Such games and such glee

It had not seen before.

Then the King called him close, and spoke in his ear,

From whence are you come, and what is your will?Tell me your provenance; what is your fear,And why does your steed stop, and stand so still?

41 He either has more than one horse, or borrows a different horse when it comes to the joust: see the climax of the poem.


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The knight lifted his visor, and viewed the King clear,And watched him most wisely, staring, untilHe said, Whether Kaiser or King, I bid you hear:

You must find me a knight to fight by his skill Someone who strives, and not to seek fame!

42

And the King, on a height,Cried, Linger all night,

You courteous knight,

And tell me your name!

My name is Sir Galeron, without any guile,The greatest of Galway, in groves and in glens:In Carrake, in Cummake, in Conyngame, in Kile,

In Lonwik, in Lannax, and in Laudonnes hills.You have won by deceit, and duplicitous guile,

A gift for Sir Gawaine my heart on a grill Yet youll wring both your hands, and worry the while,

Before any knight should transgress my will,For my will is as iron: it will not bend or yieldWhile my head is still here!

He must come without fearWith a shield and sharp spearTo fight on the field!

On the field I will fight I pledge by my faith With any fool on earth who is fierce and freeborn,For to lose my lordship makes me wince like a wraith,

And no one shall live who would laugh me to scorn.But we live in woodland: my knights earn their worthBy hunting the herd with hound and with horn,

42 A similar challenge to that made by the Green Knight and the same individual answers his challenge.


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So go knight, and gladly, for we have no wrath But well match you at midday do not be forlorn!And rest well, brave knight, for I ride forth tonight!

But Gawaine, greatest of all,Strode forth through the hall,

Not afraid of his pall,All arrayed for the fight.


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Part 6: Preparation for the Joust


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hrough a pompish pavilion with purple-draped walls,

Embroidered with beads, and dazzling with light,Gawaine led Galeron past chapels and hallsTo a tall-chimneyed chamber where embers burned bright.

They haltered his steed and led him to stallWhere hay hung from hatches: a horses delight

43.

A brocaded bedspread and squires at his call,They opened the cellar for feasting the knight:

With torches ablaze, and standards between,Plates to dazzle the sightOf so worthy a knight,

Of such girth and such height,With their silvery sheen.

In silver so bright they serve him the best

White wine in the world, in cups of clear glass,With luscious meats of fowl, fish and beast,Rich dainties and delicacies smothered with glaze.

And once bold Galeron has gone to his rest,The King calls for counsel: with anger he glows:Take heed my lords, lest your honour is lost:

Which knight will fight Galeron? grimly he growls.

Sir Gawain says, King, there is no cause to grieve.I will fight with this knight

To uphold my rightBy my pledge and my plight,

My Lord, with your leave!

43 According to the rules of chivalry, full hospitality is offered not only to Galeron, but also to his horse, even though he is currently a sworn enemy to King

Arthurs court.

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I know well, said the King, you are champing to fight,But Id not, for a lordship, see your life lost.

44

Let go, said Sir Gawaine, God stands with the right:

He shant escape scot-free, unscathed by our host!And at dawning of day, doughty and bright,

They heard Matins and Mass with no trembling or haste,Pitched pavilions at Plumpton

45, their pomp in full sight,

Where no knights before had fought hand to hand.

They set lists on the level, marked out on the land.Three sops soaked in wine

They brought to GawaineTo settle his brain

46

Till the King gave command.

The King gave command to the Earl of Kent

To be kindly and courteous to Galeron the knight,And bade him on dainties to dine in his tent

While all of his men were armed left and right,And after Queen Gaynore, glumly they wentWhile Galeron was feasted under her sight,

47

And horsemen grasped reins and bade their mounts waitAs lords at the lists reined in to alight All but the two strongest: in stirrups they stood.

And King Arthurs throne

Was set high on the loam.Gaynore let out a moanFor Gawaine the good.

44 Arthur values Gawaines skills as a soldier, and is unwilling to lose him in a joust.

45 Modern Plumpton Wall, one of the hays of Inglewood Forest. 46

Perhaps a comparison with Christ, who was served with a sponge soaked in vinegar on the cross.

47 Ironically, Gaynore must attend to the hospitality afforded to the foe of the knight to whom she is so clearly devoted.


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Gawaine and Galeron spur on their steeds,All glittering gold their armour and gear,Led to the lists by two lords in bright weeds,

With men armed with maces to bring up the rear.Each digs in his spurs, - his horses hide bleeds

And out in the field, each has planted his spear.Shafts of hard wood are splintered to bits,

For each joys in jousting, and neither knows fear.

Lance-shafts a-shiver, and shields in full sheen,And with swords sharp and bright

With a mail-splitting smite,They clash, knight-on-knight,Gawaine clad in green.48

48 The last verse of this section does not appear in one of the manuscripts, and it is possible that it has been added by a later scribe who equated Sir Galeron

with Gawaines earlier foe, the Green Knight. This part of the poem is, of course, much more typical of late mediaeval chivalric romances, and it has been

suggested that there was also a change of author between the disappearance of the ghost of Gaynores mother and the arrival of Galeron at King Arthurs court

although the last stanzas certainly re-direct the poem towards its original purpose, and therefore cast these stanzas in an ironic light.


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Part 7: The Joust


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nd Gawaine the good is garbed in bright green

With griffins of gold49

engraved on his shield,

Knitted and knotted, with chevrons between.On a sauntering steed, he swerves to one side;

The other knight spits, eyes slitted and mean,Cries, Why do you feint? Are you sly or afraid?

And swats with his sword: a gash red and cleanIn the shoulder of Gawaine; blood soaks through the braid.

The clashing and clamour make fearful ado:

The sword, a bright bane,Splits his mail-coat in twain

To the white collar bone,His shield cleaved in two.

It carves through the cantel, gouges into the knight,

Through his shield and shoulder a hilts depth or more,

And his unscathed assailant laughs from a height,And Gawaine is angry, grieving full sore:

Ill reward you this rout, and repay you aright!Then he gallops at Galeron, hard as he dare,Rips into his blazon, through mail burnished bright,

His shimmering sword shearing through like a spear,So Galerons steed shudders with fright:

Eyes rolling white, with tottering gait.The knight faces his fate

And with stirrups stretched straightCanters back to the fight.

With stirrups stretched straight, fiercely he strikes,

49 Here the poet echoes theMorte, rather than Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, which gives Gawain a shield decorated solely with a pentagram.

A


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Flails at Sir Gawain as if he were straw.His lady aloft, shrilly she shrieksWhen she sees all the blood and how freely it flows,

But the lords and the ladies all clamour alike,And thank God for Gawaine, knight without flaws.

With a swipe of his sword, Galeron strikes:Smites Gawaines steed it founders and falls,

And Gawaine, he grieves, he calls on the Rood,

For his slain steed he weeps From his stirrups he leaps

And a vengeance he reapsFor Gresell50

the good.

Gresell is gone, cries Gawaine, By God!The handsomest horse to ever eat hay.

By him who in Bedlam was born for our good,Ill vanquish this knight, and avenge you this day.

Ill give you my Fresian steed, Galeron said,It will never blench or be slain in the fray.Be done with your Fresian I wish it were dead !

Gawaine stood still in a doleful display,I mourn for no manticore my stallion of war!

51

And he stood by his steed

So stalwart in need,And his eyes seemed to bleed

With weeping so sore.

With woe and with weeping, he turns to the knight,

50In Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Gawains horse is Gringolet.

51 Gawaine is offended by Galerons offer of a replacement horse, and compares his foes alternative mount with a manticore a composite monstrosity often

regarded as an unholy hybrid. Possibly, he is also in doubt about the composure of the Fresian steed, since it seemed daunted by the bright fleurs-de-lys and

other trinkets on display in King Arthurs hall.


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Rounds on his rival whose wounds are so red Who draws back in dread at the desperate sightOf Gawaine undaunted, who so wants him dead:

Thus well drive out the day, and bring on black nightAnd the sunset shall stain where knight and horse bled!

In the midst of the joust, Galeron alights,Brandishing his blade like a demon of dread,

And they bound to do battle, their brands flashing bright,

Till shields hang in shredsAnd chainmail runs red,

And the lords shrink with dreadTo watch such a fight.

And fighting on foot upon the fair fieldAs fresh as two lions, fierce for the kill:

Its wondrous to watch the pair of them wieldTheir weapons and Gawaine does not flag in will,

But shoves his sharp sword under Galerons shield,Into his waist, wounding him well:No stuffing to stop it: armour caves in to steel,

But Galeron stands like a stone as men stare Takes a lunge at GawaineBetween visor and chain,

And if hes not slainIts by less than a hair.

And hefting and hacking on helms, they are hewing,

Their beryls all bashed in, on borders so bright,Each clash of the sword, the precious stones strewingTill the field glints and gleams in the midst of the fight,

The shields on their shoulders are shabby and shreddingTheir tabards not one rivet stands straight.


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Then lords rue the day that this bargain was brewing,That set knight on knight and would never abate,And Arthur feels mangled in soul and in brain:

Both Sir Lot52

and Sir LakeLittle meaning can make

Gaynore weeps for the sakeOf gallant Gawaine.

And weeping, Dame Gaynore, her eyes wet and grey,Is aggrieved at Sir Gawaines grisly gashes,

When grim-faced Gawaine, like a hawk at its prey,Sweeps in with his sword, plunges and slashes.Down the side of Sir Galeron he carves, as through clay,

And rips through the mails as if they are rushes:He strikes him a blow fit to fillet and flay,

Leaves him grovelling on ground, and blood flows in flushes,And grovelling on ground he groans on the green

And yet, wounded he roseAnd on Gawain he closed,Lunging straight at his nose

With his sword quick and keen,

And cruel and keen, his sword carves through air,

Backhanded and brutal, he lethally strikes,His sword weighted with woe for Gawaine, I fear,

But he gets his come-uppance - and this part I like!Just when he thinks to slay, then and there,

His sword slips and slants, and on the mail slides,And Gawaine rebounds, grabs hold like a bear,And chokes him. His lady how shrilly she shrieks,

53

52

Gawaines own father.


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And screams at Dame Gaynore, plaintive with pain,Lady great is your might Have mercy! My knight

Is in such a sore plight!He wont bother you again!

And wilfully Gaynore goes up to her King,

Snatches off her crown and cowers at his feet,

Crying aloud, You are rich, royal, and strong,But I am your wife, and your wills not complete

If not wound up with mine. To kill him is wrong!Equal their wounds look how freely they bleed,Their shoulders in shreds, their shields unstrung!

The groans of Sir Gawaine are a grisly creed Gut-wrenching groans that grieve me full sore!

For your wife bends her knee:Gracious Lord, humour me

Get your knights to agreeTo bring an end to this war!

53 For several stanzas, the poem seems to have reverted to something more akin to the traditional Romance genre, dwelling on the martial prowess of Gawaine

and Galeron, but tellingly, the perspective shifts once more to that of the women who watch the joust, and who have very different views on the violence.


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Part 8: Peace


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ut then spoke Sir Galeron: Sir Gawaine the Good,

I never knew that there was such a knight!I relinquish my claim I swear by the Rood!To your Lord and his retinue I resign my right.

I am henceforth your vassal a pledge made with blood Of all men on earth, you are greatest in might!

And meekly he made for the King where he stood,And surrendered his sword, which was burnished so bright

54,

Crying, Of rents and of riches I make my release!And down knelt the knight,Shouting up to the height,

And the King stood uprightAnd commanded the peace.

The King commanded peace as he stood upright,And Gawaine relented, for the Kings sake,

And these were the lords who leapt up in his sight:Yvayn and Uryayn and Arrake of the Lake,

Sir Meliaduke, Sir Marrake all knights of great might And the two trenchant toilers, both barely could speakWithout burly helpers to keep them upright,

So bruised and so bloodless, their faces both bleak,So pale of complexion, so weakened by wounds

And each pledged for peace

As a God-sent releaseThat the bleeding should cease:

Pledged, and held up his hands.

54

The phrase is, of course, a deliberate and satirical clich.

B


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Behold, your King gives you, Gawaine the good,All of Glamorgan, with its glades bright and green,The worship of Wales, to wield as you would,

And Kirfre Castle, of bronze colour and sheen,And all Ulster Hall, to have and to hold,

Wayforth and Waterforth, and all lands between,Two baronies of Brittany, with burgesses bold,

With towers embattled, fit for a queen:

I endow you as duke, dubbed by my hands But make peace with this knight

Who put up such a fight,And resign him your rightAnd give back his lands.

I give you, Galeron, and without any guile,

All lands that stretch between Logher and Layre:Carrake, Cummake, Conyngame and Kile

All for yourself, and thereafter, your heirs The Lother, the Lemmok, the Loynak, the Lile,With wealds and with woodlands and waters so fair

But bid you remain, and bide here awhile,And at the Round Table, our wrongs to repair.In this field I enfeoff you, as free as the air!

And the King and the QueenWith Lords riding between

Weave the woodlands so green,And to Carlisle they fare.

55

55 The return to the Round Table invites the reader to speculate on the degree to which the characters have learned lessons from their circumstances. King

Arthur now knows how to use the offer of lands as a means of encouraging one of his knights to be merciful. Sir Gawaine seems to have gone backwards from

his realisation that most of the deeds of the knights are not glorious but rapacious perhaps because the challenge with which he is issued is not to be met in

battle, but in an individual joust. When he chooses (or is compelled, given that his King and Queen demand it) to offer mercy, his largesse takes the form of the

restitution of lands previously taken from Sir Galeron. Thus, the men do little to deflect the fate already predicted for them by the ghost of Gaynores mother.


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To Carlisle comes Arthur, with knights keen and bright,Through glades so green, and in royal array,

To the Round Table, with two wounded knights,Saved by the surgeons so they all say

The King and the Queen, all loving, as right,Gawaine and Galeron made Dukes that same day.

He was wed with his lady love supplanting the fight,

With gems for his gifts, Sir Galeron the gay.Thus Gawaine and Galeron put difference away,

And when wounds congealedAnd all grudges healedHis knighthood was sealed

Till his dying day.

And Gaynore wrote letters, forbearing the feast,To monks and to nuns, to chant and to sing,

She pressed them to pray both bishop and priest With myriad masses, her mother to bringOut of burning.

56And scholars learned and finest

Were sent throughout Britain, the Mass-bell to ring.And all of it happened in Inglewood ForestTo knights and to ladies, to huntsmen and King.

And to catch such a quarry is not to be spurned:

The real learners are the women: Gaynore and Galerons lover, who join forces to make a plea for peace on behalf of men who are too hot-headed to appreciate

its benefits.56

The ghosts voice is heeded at last and it is the triumph of a (dead) womans voice over the violent inheritance of a male hegemony. It is more than

possible that the author was a woman perhaps a nun living somewhere in the north of England, with access to a scriptorium containing a vernaculartranslation of the Gospel of John who wished to encourage women (and, perhaps more reluctantly, men) to turn away from the pomp and pride of chivalry,

but who still subscribed to an orthodox theology in which prayers for dead souls in Purgatory were regarded as efficacious.

Th t t th id d


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That strength, pride and powerAre gone in an hour By chivalrys flower

Let the lesson be learned.

Here is an end to the Adventures of Arthur.

the anturs of arther

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