Chapter IV 

Gawain awoke before dawn. A small breakfast had been brought up and laid on the bedside table. It had gone cold but he didn’t much care. He ate it quickly and then set about dressing himself. He was about to put on his armor when his eye was caught by a green glimmer above the fireplace. Taking it down he found it to be the girdle Yvonne had given him the morning before. 

He inspected it carefully. It looked ordinary enough. “But should it be enchanted; it would save my life. I’ve got nothing to lose”, he muttered. Then, without another thought, he tied it beneath his shoulder and donned his armor, hiding it from view. 

***

Sir Gawain trudged through the snowy courtyard. It was still dark and the stars in the greying sky lent their light to the young man. A gentle snowfall had begun some two hours before and the ground was blanketed in white. The only sound was the crunch beneath Gawain’s feet. A lonely lantern flickered in an upstairs window, a hint that someone was stirring. 

Gawain’s nose was red before he reached the castle chapel. He pulled open the door and shuffled in, letting it swing back with a hollow thud. He scuffed his boots against the wall, tugged off his cap, and fumbled about for a candle. Finding one, he lit it and made his way to the altar. 

He knelt reverently before it and bowed his head. His prayers were longer than usual that morning, and it was only the sound of the cock’s crow that roused him. 

With solemn face he left the chapel and stepped into the early light of dawn. The snow had stopped and the air was still. A few of the castle servants were up and beginning their work. Gawain hailed a groom who was passing by, “is my horse ready?” 

The man bowed. “Yes sir. Should I bring him out?” 

“Do so, and bring a bag of feed, as I plan to travel a long way today.” 

Fifteen minutes later Gawain’s horse was saddled and bridled and all his supplies were loaded onto it. Gawain quickly downed the hot drink that had been brought to him and swung himself onto the horse. He was just turning the animal towards the open gate when a young voice called, “Sir Gawain!” 

Gawain turned to see a page boy scurrying towards him. “What is it?”, he asked. 

The boy was panting heavily, but still attempted a dignified reply, “Lady Yvonne… apologizes for not being here… to say goodbye. She hopes that your journey may go smoothly and that you may… return someday. For you will always… be welcome.” 

Gawain looked up towards her bedroom window, where he could just glimpse a blonde head turning away. He exhaled, forming clouds around his face. “Tell your mistress that I am most grateful for her hospitality and ask her to thank her husband for me when he returns from his hunt.” The boy nodded and Gawain clicked to his horse to move forward. 

***

Gawain’s journey that day was a lonely and sobering one. His thoughts continually strayed back to distant memories he had almost forgotten. His life had been a good one. Knowing that life was about to end made him feel years older than he was. 

Yet, there was that one glimmer of hope in the girdle Yvonne had given him. From what he knew of her she was not the most trustworthy of women, but for the fact she seemed genuinely attached to him. Of course, her husband had believed her attached to him as well, so there wasn’t much in that. In this situation though she had nothing to gain by lying to him. What possible motivation could she have to make him believe his life could be saved? Then again, there was always the possibility that she herself had been deceived by the abilities of the girdle. 

It began to snow again. His horse tossed his head in annoyance at the flakes settling on him. Gawain turned his attention back to his goal. The directions had been straightforward. He was to journey north of the castle for about two miles, take a turn upon reaching some woodland, then travel east until he reached a valley. In that valley he would find the Greene Chapel. 

The ground was thick with snow and the horse’s hooves made only a dull crunching sound. That coupled with the still air made an eerie silence that soon became oppressive. Gawain attempted to sing, and then to whistle, but his throat was dry and his notes trembled. 

He reached the valley around mid-day. Its opening was narrow and with all the snow and cliffs around Gawain almost missed it. His horse descended cautiously down the steep incline, slipping a couple times on the icy slope. At one point he almost lost his footing all together. He whinnied shrilly and planted his hooves firmly on the ground. 

Gawain patted his neck gently, “don’t worry. You go off to the side here, I’ll go the rest of the way myself.” He dismounted and guided his horse to a rocky space under the shelter of an overhanging cliff. He took off his packs and gave him some feed, then set off alone. 

The going was a bit easier after that and Gawain soon reached the bottom. Less snow had been able to gather in the valley so the Greene Chapel could be clearly seen. 

It was small and the stonework was a bit crude, as if it had been built by some villagers who’d once inhabited the valley. The green paint on the roof and door was faded and chipped, and the crucifix that should have hung above the entrance was nowhere to be seen. Yet, there was something sacred about the humble structure. 

Gawain was still lost in his reverie when a loud, booming laugh echoed around the cliffs. He turned to see the massive giant who had haunted his thoughts. “So, Sir Gawain has kept his promise”, bellowed the Greene Knight. “I’ll admit I had my doubts.” 

Gawain straightened. “I hope that by my faithfulness, the honor of Arthur’s court may be confirmed this New Year’s Day.” 

“Perhaps”, replied the Knight. “But I have yet to swing my axe.” 

Gawain unfastened his helmet and tossed it aside. Then he knelt on the frosty ground and bowed his head. “Swing your axe, I shall keep my vow.” 

The Knight shrugged and unbuckled the strap that held his battleax in place. He raised it above his head and swung with all his force. Gawain squeezed his eyes shut and bit his tongue. Just as the axe was about to strike his neck, he flinched away from it. 

The Knight pulled the axe back quickly. “Is this the bravery of Camelot’s champion?”, he thundered. “A man who flinches before the axe has even struck him.” 

Gawain’s cheeks flamed red. “Unlike you sir I cannot replace my head once it has been taken off. Even so, I will not flinch again.” 

The Knight smirked. “Very well!” 

Gawain bowed his head once more. He heard the loud swish as the axe zipped through the air. He tightened his jaw and clenched his fists. Every prayer he had ever learned began flashing through his mind. Then the axe struck. 

A painful jolt ran through his entire body. Warm blood dripped down his neck and spattered onto the snow. But he was still alive. 

Sir Gawain leapt to his feet and faced the Greene Knight. “There you are. You have nothing to reproach me with, I have done all I promised.” 

The Knight smiled and leaned casually upon his axe. “Nay good sir, you have not. For though you gave me the kisses you have concealed the girdle.” 

Gawain stared, his mouth agape. 

“Indeed, sir knight, I know more than you have given me credit for. I was your host these past few days, and the man whom you gave your kisses too. More than that, I instructed my wife to test you as she did. I underestimated you and believed I could put a mark on your honor. But you never bended. Each day you resisted Yvonne and each day you delivered your catches to me. I had almost given up. Until yesterday, when my wife gave you that girdle that has now saved your life, and you concealed it from me.” 

Sir Gawain, who had listened to all this in silence, hung his head. “I was cowardly and shrank from my duty. If you would take this axe and try me again, I shall go through it without the girdle.” 

“Nay, nay”, the Greene Knight clapped him on the back. “There is no sin in wanting to live. You did as any man would have done. I forgive you of wrong and acquit you of all responsibility.” 

Gawain sighed and untied the girdle from his arm. “Take this to your wife. I will not keep it, lest I be tempted to use it again.” 

The Knight laughed. “Lest you be tempted to save your life? If you wish I shall take it back, but why not deliver it yourself? You are welcome to stay at my castle for as long as you like.” 

Gawain bowed. “I thank you, but no. As I am still living my duty is with King Arthur and I must leave for Camelot upon the hour. Only tell me, for what reason did you challenge my Uncle’s court?” 

The Greene Knight looked up and grunted thoughtfully. “Like you, I serve someone great. It was she who bid me challenge the honor of Arthur’s court, in the hope of finding fault in it. You know my mistress I think.” 

“Who is she?” 

“You saw her at my castle, though she was disguised as a lady in waiting. She is your aunt! Morgan le Fay.” 

A chill wind blew through the ravine, then relaxed and died with a sigh. 

“Now”, continued the Knight. “You must be off. I wish you luck on your journey, and hope we meet again.” 

“I do not know when that could be, but I promise I will not forget this day, nor the mistakes I have made.” 

The Greene Knight shook his head. “If you learn anything from this, I hope it will be to not take yourself so seriously!” 

***

March had come and the last days of winter were melting away. King Arthur was in his study, looking over maps when a frantic knocking roused him. He turned, knocking over his candle and spilling wax over the table. 

The door burst open. “Sire!”, cried a red-faced young page. “Sir Gawain’s returned!” 

Gawain’s return to Camelot was a joyous one. Trumpets blared, garlands were made, and a great feast was held. Many, many times that day he was asked to retell the story of his adventure. His audience was always enraptured, and always ready to celebrate the valor of Camelot’s most honorable knight.