Then they set up the tables on trestles, and covered them with fair
cloths, and lit waxen tapers on the walls. The knights sat and were
served in the hall, and much game and glee was there round the hearth,
with many songs, both at supper and after; songs of Christmas, and new
carols, with all the mirth one may think of. And ever that lovely lady
sat by the knight, and with still stolen looks made such feint of
pleasing him, that Gawain marvelled much, and was wroth with himself,
but he could not for his courtesy return her fair glances, but dealt
with her cunningly, however she might strive to wrest the thing.
When they had tarried in the hall so long as it seemed them good, they
turned to the inner chamber and the wide hearth-place, and there they
drank wine, and the host proffered to renew the covenant for New Year’s
Eve; but the knight craved leave to depart on the morrow, for it was
nigh to the term when he must fulfil his pledge. But the lord would
withhold him from so doing, and prayed him to tarry, and said,
“As I am a true knight I swear my troth that ye shall come to the Green
Chapel to achieve your task on New Year’s morn, long before prime.
Therefore abide ye in your bed, and I will hunt in this wood, and hold
ye to the covenant to exchange with me against all the spoil I may bring
hither. For twice have I tried ye, and found ye true, and the morrow
shall be the third time and the best. Make we merry now while we may,
and think on joy, for misfortune may take a man whensoever it wills.”
Then Gawain granted his request, and they brought them drink, and they
gat them with lights to bed.
Of the third day’s hunting
Sir Gawain lay and slept softly, but the lord, who was keen on
woodcraft, was afoot early. After Mass he and his men ate a morsel, and
he asked for his steed; all the knights who should ride with him were
already mounted before the hall gates.
’Twas a fair frosty morning, for the sun rose red in ruddy vapour, and
the welkin was clear of clouds. The hunters scattered them by a forest
side, and the rocks rang again with the blast of their horns. Some came
on the scent of a fox, and a hound gave tongue; the huntsmen shouted,
and the pack followed in a crowd on the trail. The fox ran before them,
and when they saw him they pursued him with noise and much shouting, and
he wound and turned through many a thick grove, often cowering and
hearkening in a hedge. At last by a little ditch he leapt out of a
spinney, stole away slily by a copse path, and so out of the wood and
away from the bounds. But he went, ere he wist, to a chosen tryst, and
three started forth on him at once, so he must needs double back, and
betake him to the wood again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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