Just a heads up, there is some mature content here, nothing terrible, just thought I’d let you know.

Chapter III 

The men awoke for the hunt in the dark hour before dawn. They gathered in the courtyard, blowing on their hands as they waited for their lord’s arrival. The eerie morning silence was broken only by the whispered muttering of the hunters and the horses’ hooves hitting the frozen cobblestone. Breath made clouds in the air and a light snowfall began. 

Lady Yvonne watched from her window as her husband blew the great hunting horn and the group of men rode out the gate on horseback. Assuring herself that they were gone she began to dress. She decked herself in a velvet gown of deep red that had a low, sloping neckline. Then she plaited her fair hair into a long braid. After dabbing perfume behind her ears and placing a couple jewels in her hair she deemed herself finished. 

Slowly she crept down the hall to Gawain’s room. She checked to make sure no one was coming then softly pushed open the door. Gawain was on his back, still sound asleep. Yvonne smiled and, careful not to make a sound, sat next to him on the bed. 

The dark night outside began to turn gray as the sun rose higher on the horizon. The bleak winter landscape was illuminated and soon rays of light filtered through the frosted window panes of Gawain’s room. It was the light that woke him. He stirred and opened his eyes then sat up with a gasp. 

“Begad! Yvonne!” 

She laughed gaily. “Are you always this deep a sleeper? Be grateful I have not tied you and made you my prisoner.” 

Gawain smiled ruefully. “Then I thank you for sparing me.” He coughed. “Uh, what are you doing here my lady?” 

She smiled and looked at him with something frighteningly like longing in her eyes. “My husband and all his men are gone on the hunt, my servants are asleep, no one will ever know what happens here.” 

Gawain smiled weakly. “Well, it doesn’t matter much, seeing as there’s nothing to keep secret.” 

Yvonne leaned closer. “Sir Gawain”, her voice was low. “I offer you my love and all that goes with it. My body is yours and you may do as you like with it. My husband need never know.” 

***

Far out in the forest a wild deer hunt was well underway. Men’s faces were beaten red and raw by the scourging wind as their horses charged after the scattered prey. Frozen branches whipped at them, cutting their cheeks. The woodland echoed with the mad baying of hounds and the shouts of the hunters. 

The lord of the hunt sent his booming laugh to join the echoes. “The dogs have cornered a hind! Looks like we’re almost finished.” 

***

Gawain spoke carefully, not wanting to encourage or offend Yvonne, “I am honored that you have taken notice of me, certainly I am unworthy of this attention. But I must tell you now that I cannot do as you ask.” 

She smiled sweetly and placed her hand on his. “Oh, but you are more than worthy. I heard of you long before we met. You, the great and valiant knight, nephew to King Arthur Pendragon. I know I am not the only woman who sighs at the mention of your name.” 

“Your praises are too much”, responded Gawain. “I am sure they are flattery.” 

“Take it however you like, I know they are true. To be young and handsome as well, surely that is a gift.” 

“It is to your husband you should be saying these things. He has more right to them than I.” 

“My husband?”, she scoffed. “He’s nothing.” 

“He is a fine man. A good hunter and an equally good host. I could not dishonor him in his own home after how generous he has been to me.” 

“What he does not know won’t hurt him!”, cried Yvonne. “I certainly will not tell and I beg that you will say nothing of this either.” 

Gawain responded firmly, “if I do as you ask, I know you will regret it later.” 

She opened her mouth to speak then stopped and sighed heavily. “I see you will not be moved.” She leaned forward and kissed him gently, then left the room without another word. 

The household soon woke and Gawain spent the rest of the day in company with Lady Yvonne and her ladies-in-waiting. It was a pleasant change after the many weeks of hard travel. They sat most the day by the large fire in the solar, Gawain telling stories of Arthur’s court while the women stitched. 

The hunters returned around midday with a triumphant call on their horn. Gawain went out into the courtyard to meet them. His host dismounted and put an arm about his shoulders, still bellowing lustily, “Sir Gawain! I hope you will keep to our agreement!” Snow was stuck all over his red beard and his face was pink with cold. 

“Of course”, responded Gawain. “But first show me what I get.” 

His host laughed and pointed to a hind that was being carried away by two servants. “My dogs cornered that one. She’s all yours.” 

“I thank you sir.” 

“Now come on, did you catch anything today?” 

Gawain took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Then he turned, faced his host, and planted a good kiss on his mouth. 

He blinked, then laughed aloud. “And where did you catch that, young man?” 

Gawain smiled wryly. “That’s my secret.” 

“Very well. I don’t suppose I could guess?” 

“No”, sighed Gawain. “I don’t think you could.” 

That night the Great Hall was again filled with lanterns, and good food and wine was brought forth. The hunters boasted long into the night, telling of the wild hunt. Gawain got the choice pieces of the deer and everyone praised the skill and luck of the master of their hall. 

“Gawain’s catch wasn’t that bad either”, chuckled his host. “A bit wet perhaps, but not too bad.” 

The next day the hunters set out early. Exhilarated by their success the day before they charged off into the woodlands an hour earlier than they were wont. The snow fell thick and fast, almost blinding them sometimes. At points some of the men would be separated from the group, only to be brought back by the piercing cry of the hunting horn. 

The master was always in the lead. His eyes and ears were forever on the alert for prey. A frozen tree branch ahead of him snapped and fell in a shower of icicles, startling a boar hidden in a snowdrift. The mangy animal squealed and shot off through the trees. With a cry the hunters sped after it, their dogs following at the horses’ heels. 

One of the men fired off his crossbow after it. The arrow struck true but the boar kept running, though considerably slower. Taking that as their cue the dogs doubled their efforts and raced ahead of the hunters. 

They chased the boar into a clearing, moving apart until they surrounded it. The boar, despite his wound, was not going to give up without a fight. He charged the dogs, his large tusks striking out at them. One of the younger dogs jumped back out of fear, letting the boar escape again. The wild pig galloped off into the trees only to find his way blocked by three of the hunters. 

With a squeal he tried changing direction. Before he had even turned around however a well-aimed spear impaled him through the side, killing him instantly. 

***

Gawain lay awake, staring into the darkness. The cheerfully crackling fire covered the sound of the chill wind outside. The dried herbs that had been hung in his room the day before still let off a calming fragrance. All was peaceful. 

The sound of footsteps interrupted his reverie. The door cracked open and Gawain glimpsed a slender figure holding a flickering candle. Guessing who it was, he shut his eyes quickly and feigned sleep. 

Footsteps approached him. He heard a soft clink as the candle was placed on his side-table. A gentle hand brushed his hair aside and he felt warm breath against his cheek as the intruder whispered, “I know you’re awake.” 

He opened his eyes and smiled sheepishly. “You can’t take me by surprise every morning.” 

She shrugged. “I try my best.” Then lowering her voice she said, “Gawain, my feelings are the same as they were yesterday. I love you deeply and swear that if you will have me I will do my best to serve you.” 

“My lady, to even think of you in that way goes against all I have ever been taught.” 

“But where is the harm! No one will ever know what we have done, surely you weren’t taught that love making is wrong.” Then her face fell. “I see what it is. It is not the act you object to, but the woman. Do you love another? Is there a woman, a thousand times prettier than myself, towards whom you direct your desire?” 

“Nay, I have no lover. As of yet I have never touched a woman.” 

“Am I not beautiful then? Does the very sight of me disgust you?”. She was visibly distressed as she spoke. “When I entered you were affecting sleep and ever since you haven’t even looked at me.” 

Gawain sighed and answered truthfully, “you are very beautiful. More beautiful indeed than any woman I have ever met.” 

Yvonne’s visage calmed and she smiled coyly. “Truly Gawain, you always know what to say.” She bent over and kissed his mouth sweetly. Then, before Gawain could even catch his breath, kissed him again. “When someday you do find a lover, I hope she knows how fortunate she is.” 

“In sooth, I believe I shall never have one.” 

“If only that were true”, she sighed. “And if only I had never married.” 

“Your husband, if you will allow me to say so, deserves more respect than you show him.” 

“Can I control my heart? Can I convince myself in love with one man when all I desire is found in another?” 

“I do not think, good lady, that you will think of me much when I am gone. These feelings will pass and I will be but a distant memory.” 

“If you think that then you do not know your own worth.” Her eyes met his briefly before she turned and left the room. 

***

“Sir Gawain!”, called his host cheerily as Gawain entered the Great Hall that night. “Come, sit at your usual place! Tonight, I have an even better gift for you.” He motioned to two of his green-clad servants. They left and returned shortly, stumbling under the weight of a massive wild boar carried between them on a spit. The hall erupted with cheers and cries of admiration. Gawain applauded as loudly as the rest. 

“Am I expected to eat it in one sitting?”, he chuckled. 

His host flung back his head and let out a short, booming laugh. “That I’d like to see! No sir, take what you want now and save the rest for later.” 

Gawain was served a goodly sized portion of the meat and a large flagon of mulled wine. He ate and drank contentedly while listening to the story of the hunt. When he had finished his plate he leaned back, his hands behind his head. “Sounds like an exciting morning, though, I am afraid, nothing to the one I had.” 

“In sooth, I believe you”, answered one of the hunters. “How could a boar hunt compare to lounging in the solar? I don’t suppose you pricked yourself with a knitting needle?” A chorus of snickers rippled about the room. 

Gawain smiled affably and let them laugh. Then he turned to his host. “I have more to give you today, good sir, but I don’t know if you’ll take it.” 

“Come, come”, he remonstrated. “A deal’s a deal.” 

“Very well.” Gawain stood up from his place and delivered two kisses to his host. 

When they were finished the master wiped a hand across his mouth and looked at Gawain curiously. “Just what are you up to all day, young sir?” 

Gawain shrugged. “Doing this and that. Maybe tomorrow I’ll give you three.” 

Gawain lay awake for many hours after he went to bed, thinking of the Green Knight. Even when he finally fell asleep his dreams were troubled by visions of wild stallions, whirling blizzards, and dark chapels, all seen through a hazy green light. Then, out of the mists, came a whirling battleax. Gawain tried to move but found himself frozen to the spot as the axe came towards him. 

He blinked and sat up, cold sweat dribbling down his face. Judging from the amount of light seeping through the glass it was almost sunrise. “New Year’s Eve”, he muttered. “Tomorrow I’ll be going to the Greene Chapel.” 

Unable to get back to sleep, he threw off the covers and began dressing himself. He was just finishing when a soft rap was heard at the door. “Enter!” 

Lady Yvonne stole in. Her fair hair was down, flowing well past her waist in a pale shimmer. The gown she wore was all of emerald green and hung so loosely about the shoulders it seemed to be slipping down with each movement. Her face was sorrowful and her eyes sparkled with tears. 

“Good morning my lady”, said Gawain. 

She put her slender arms about his neck and kissed him slowly. Then she spoke in a faltering voice, “it is your last day with us is it not?” 

“Yes. I leave tomorrow.” 

“But why are you going through with it all? Surely you know that you journey to your death?” 

“I made a vow, and my honor is worth more than my life”, he answered solemnly. 

Yvonne sighed and rested her head against him. “Your honor will end your life I think.” She looked up at him. “Couldn’t you-” 

Guessing the question, Gawain interrupted, “no, I do not wish to refuse you anything but in that I will not be moved.” 

“What does it matter if you are only to die anyway? You will never have to suffer any consequences, only I shall be burdened with the secret. Wouldn’t it be better to make the most of life while it lasts?” 

“If my last days in this world were spent betraying the trust and generosity of my kind host, I should have had a sorry life indeed.” 

Again, Yvonne kissed him. “You are good and honorable. Perhaps more so than I would wish. Surely such a tiny sin, from so great a man, would be easily forgiven.” 

“A small sin, if indeed that is one, can spread and consume the soul as easily as any.” 

“But I wish it!”, she stomped her foot in frustration. “Don’t those laws of chivalry you follow bid you to never refuse a woman? I offer myself to you, I am yours to take.” 

“But I am afraid madam, that you are no longer yours to give. You belong as much to your husband as you do to yourself” 

She continued to plead with him, offering every excuse, every loophole, and taking the entirety of the blame upon herself. Yet Gawain would not be moved. He responded to each argument with polite refusal. 

“I suppose that is it”, she mumbled at last. “You are too strong to be moved by me.” 

“I hope you are not hurt?”, inquired Gawain, with some concern. 

She smiled wanly. “No, you spoke too gently of me for it to hurt. I only wish that I could see you again.” 

“If there is anything you would ask of me before I leave, I will do it.” “Provided”, he added quickly. “It is not a renewal of your former request.” 

“Then I pray”, she answered, beginning to remove her girdle. “That you will wear this in remembrance of the woman who loved you.” She handed it to him. The emeralds decorated along its edge sparkled and shimmered in the light of the rising sun. “It is charmed by a great enchantress”, she continued. “The one who wears it will be protected from all injury.” 

Sir Gawain’s heart leapt at those words. “If that is true”, he thought. “I shall not be killed by the Greene Knight’s axe.” Aloud he said only, “thank you.” 

Then she wrapped her arms tighter about his neck and kissed him for the last time. It was longer and sweeter than any she had given him before. When she had finished, she whispered a breathless “goodbye” and hurried from the room. 

***

The hunting party had spent the morning searching the woodland, all to no avail. They had not found a suitable quarry and it was nearing afternoon. Many would fain have returned home but the master pressed them on, suggesting they search on the open cliffs. 

The landscape was a bleak expanse of white snow, black stone, and grey sky. Not a living thing was in sight. The master grunted and kicked his horse, urging him homeward. 

Suddenly his young page cried out, “sir, I see something over by the cliffs!” He turned in time to see a red blur streaking across the snow. 

“Begad, it’s a fox!”, he exclaimed, swiftly changing his direction. The hunters charged after it. 

The fox, knowing they were on his trail, began scampering towards the woodland. He ducked and dodged, sometimes causing the hunters to lose sight of him, but always he was betrayed by his red coat. Finding he couldn’t shake them off he dived headfirst into a snowbank, attempting to bury himself. 

The master whistled to his dogs and they dashed after it. Within moments they had dug it out. Before they could catch hold it darted into the shelter of the trees. 

“We’ll never find it in there”, grumbled the page. 

But before they could start off homeward again, a figure trotted out of the undergrowth, carrying something red in its mouth. It was one of the master’s dogs, holding the fox by the neck. 

The master laughed. “Well, it looks like he is the best hunter among us.” 

That night at the feast Gawain was proudly presented with the meat and pelt of the fox. “I trust this is a suitable meal for your last night with us? Unless of course you plan to stay longer?”, asked his host. 

“Yes, indeed, it is, I thank you. And I am afraid I must leave tomorrow if I am to keep my promise.” 

His host shrugged. “Do as you like. Now, what have you got for me today?” 

“Three kisses, as I foretold.” 

His host smiled ruefully. “Very well, but perhaps next time I should be more careful with my games.” 

Gawain delivered the kisses and spent the remainder of the night engaging in the merry talk and laughter of the hall. Yet the shame of his deceit hung heavy upon him and gnawed at the back of his mind. For he had concealed the girdle.