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13 Sir Gawain in the Forest of Adventure

We will begin with Sir Gawain, who kept on his way until he came to a fair manor where an old knight dwelled, who was a good householder. Sir Gawain asked him if he knew of any adventures. “Tomorrow,” said the knight, “I will show you marvelous adventures.”

So in the morning they rode together through the Forest of Adventure until they came to a field and found a cross. As they stood there, waiting, the fairest and seemliest knight they had ever seen came by them, and he was making the greatest dole that ever a man had made. When he noticed Sir Gawain he greeted him, and asked God to send him much honor.

“As for that,” said Sir Gawain, “many thanks. Also, I pray to God that you may have honor and worship.”

“Ah,” said the knight, “I have set that aside, for sorrow and shame come to me after the worship.” Then he crossed to one side of the field, and Gawain saw on the other side of the field ten knights waiting, and they made themselves ready with their shields and spears to challenge the one knight with whom Sir Gawain had spoken.

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Then the one knight brandished his spear, and one of the ten knights challenged him. The woeful knight smote him so hard that he fell over his horse’s tail. Just so, the dolorous knight served each of the ten knights—at the very least he smote down both horse and man, and he did it all with one spear.

When all ten of them were on foot, they went to the one knight; he stood still as a stone, allowing them to pull him down off his horse and bind him hand and foot. They tied him under the belly of his horse, and led him away with them.

“Ah, Jesus!” said Sir Gawain. “This is a sad sight, to see yonder knight treated this way. It seems that the knight allows them to bind him so, for he makes no resistance.”

“No,” said his host, “that is the truth. He allows them to do so, for they are all too weak to defeat him.”

“Sir,” said the damsel to Sir Gawain, “I think it would increase your worship to help that dolorous knight, for I think he is one of the best knights that I ever saw.”

“I would be happy to help him,” said Sir Gawain, “but it seems to me that he wishes to have no help.”

“No,” said the damsel, “I think you have no desire to help him.”

As they were talking, they saw a knight on the other side of the field fully armed, except for his head. On the other side of the field came a dwarf on horseback, fully armed except for his head and he had a large mouth and a short nose. When the dwarf came near he said, “Where is the lady who was to meet us here?” Then a lady came out of the woods. Then the knight and the dwarf began to fight for the lady, for the knight said he would have her, and the dwarf said he would.

“Will you agree to a settlement?” said the dwarf. “Yonder is a knight at the cross; let the matter be put before him, and however he judges, so shall it be.”

“I will gladly,” said the knight. So all three of them went to Sir Gawain and told him why they fought.

“Well, sirs, are you willing to put the matter in my hands?”

“Yes, sir,” they both said.

“Now damsel,” said Sir Gawain, “you shall stand between them both, and whichever one you like better, go to him, and he shall have you.”

When she was set between them both she left the knight and went to the dwarf. Then the dwarf took her up on his horse and went on his way singing, and the knight went his way with great mourning.

Then two knights, fully armed, suddenly arrived and cried out loudly, “Sir Gawain, knight of the court of King Arthur! Make yourself ready quickly to joust with me!” So they ran together, and both fell down. Once on foot, they drew their swords and fought as hard as they could.

In the meantime, the other knight went to the damsel and asked her why she was with Sir Gawain. He said, “If you will stay with me, I will be your faithful knight.”

“Then with you I will be,” said the damsel, “for I cannot find it in my heart to be with him, for just now there was a knight who fought against ten knights, and at the last, Sir Gawain let him be cowardly led away. Therefore, let us go while these two are fighting.”

Sir Gawain fought with this other knight for a long time, but finally they agreed to call it a draw. Then the knight asked Sir Gawain to stay with him that night.

As Sir Gawain went with that knight, he asked, “Who is the knight in this country that smote down the ten knights? For after he had done so manfully, he allowed them to bind him hand and foot, and led him away.”

“Ah,” said the knight, “I believe that is the best knight in the world and the man of greatest prowess. It is the greatest pity that he suffers so, more than any knight living, because he has been captured in that way more than ten times. His name is Sir Pelleas, and he loves a great lady in this country, and her name is Ettard. Shortly after he fell in love with her, a great joust—three days long—was announced, and all the knights and ladies of the land were there. Whoever proved himself the best knight would be rewarded with a good sword and a circlet of gold, and the knight was to give that circlet to the fairest lady present at the joust.

“This knight Sir Pelleas was by far the best of any of the knights who were there—and there were five hundred knights there! Every man with whom he encountered, Sir Pelleas struck him down—or at the very least off his horse—and every day he struck down at least twenty knights. Therefore, they gave him the prize. And then he went to where the lady Ettard was and gave her the circlet and said in the hearing of everyone that she was the fairest lady that there was, and he would prove it on any knight who dared say nay.

“So he chose her for his sovereign lady, never to love any other but her. But she was so proud that she scorned him, and said she would never love him, even if he died for her. Because of this all the ladies and gentlewomen scorned her for being so proud, for there were some who were fairer than she, and any one of them there would have returned Sir Pelleas’ love gladly if he had offered it to them.

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“So this knight promised to follow Ettard into this country and never to leave her until she loved him, and thus he stays most of the time in a priory which is near to her. And every week she sends knights to fight with him. When he has defeated them, he allows them to take him prisoner, for he wishes to have a sight of his lady. And always she does him great wrong—sometimes she makes her knights tie him to his horse’s tail, and sometimes she makes them bind him under the belly of the horse. Thus, in the most shameful way she can conceive, he is brought to her, and she does all this to cause him to leave this land and leave his loving. But all of this cannot make him leave. If he would fight on foot, he would defeat the ten knights just as he did on horseback.”

“Alas!” said Sir Gawain, “that is a great pity for him! After tonight, I will seek him tomorrow in the forest and help him in any way that I can.”

So in the morning Sir Gawain took his leave of his host, Sir Carados, and rode into the forest. Finally, he met with Sir Pelleas, and found him moaning greatly. Each of them greeted the other, and Gawain asked why he made such sorrow.

And as it was described above, so Sir Pelleas told Sir Gawain. “But always I allow her knights to do with me as you saw yesterday, hoping at last to win her love. She well knows that no knight could easily defeat me if I fought to the fullest of my ability. And if I did not love her so much, I would rather die a hundred times than suffer the shame of being defeated; but I believe that in the end she will have pity on me, for love causes many a good knight to suffer in order to have his desire. But alas, I am unfortunate!” And then he made such sorrow he could barely stay in the saddle.

“Now,” said Sir Gawain, “stop your mourning, and I shall promise you, by the faith of my body, that I will do all that is in my power to get you the love of your lady, and to that end, I pledge my word.”

“Ah,” said Sir Pelleas, “from what court are you?”

“Sir, I am of the court of King Arthur; I am his sister’s son, and King Lot of Orkney was my father, and my name is Sir Gawain.”

“And my name is Sir Pelleas, born in the Isles, and I am lord of many isles. I never loved a lady or damsel until now. And sir knight, since you are so closely related to King Arthur and are a king’s son, betray me not, but help me, for I may never get her love except through the help of some good knight. She is in a strong castle nearby, within four miles, and she is lady over all this country. I would never be able to come into her presence unless I allowed her knights to take me, and unless I did so in order to see her, I would have died long before now. Yet, I have never had a kind word from her—when I am brought before her she rebukes me in the foulest manner. Then they take my horse and my armor and push me out of the gates, and she will allow me neither food nor drink. Always I offer to be her prisoner, but she will not allow that. I would desire nothing more, no matter what I might suffer, if I could just see her every day.”

“Well,” said Sir Gawain, “I shall amend this situation. Do as I suggest: I will take your armor and ride to her castle and tell her that I have slain you, and then she will cherish me. Once I am in her good graces, I will do my best to get the love of her for you.” Then Sir Gawain pledged his word to Sir Pelleas, swearing to be true and faithful to him. Each pledged loyalty to the other, and so they exchanged horses and armor.

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Sir Gawain departed and went to the castle, where there were pavilions set up outside the gate. As soon as Ettard saw Sir Gawain, she fled toward the castle, but Sir Gawain called out loudly and bade her wait, for he was not Sir Pelleas. “I am another knight who has slain Sir Pelleas.”

“Then take off your helmet,” said the Lady Ettard, “so I may see your face.” When she saw that he was not Sir Pelleas, she had him dismount and led him into the castle.

She asked him if he had really slain Sir Pelleas, and he said yes. Then he told her his name was Sir Gawain, and that he was from the court of King Arthur and was the king’s sister’s son, and that he had slain Sir Pelleas.

“Truly,” she said, “that is a great pity, for he was a very accomplished knight. But of all men alive, I hated him most, for I could never be free of him. Because you have slain him, I will be your woman and do anything that will please you.” So she showed Gawain much hospitality. Gawain then said that he loved a lady who would not love him back.

“She is to blame,” said Ettard, “for not loving you, for you are a well-born man of great prowess, and there is no lady in the world who is too good for you.”

“Will you,” said Sir Gawain, “promise me to do whatever you can, by the faith of your body, to help me get the love of my lady?”

“Yes, sir, I promise you, by my faith.”

“Now,” said Sir Gawain, “it is you that I love so well; therefore, fulfill your promise.”

“I may not choose to say no,” said the Lady Ettard, “for then I would be forsworn.” And she then agreed to grant him his every desire.

It was the month of May, and she and Sir Gawain went out of the castle and ate in one of the pavilions, wherein was made a bed. There, Sir Gawain and Ettard went to bed together. In another pavilion she placed her damsels, and in a third, a portion of her knights, for she had no fear of Sir Pelleas. Sir Gawain slept with her in her pavilion two days and two nights.

On the third day, early in the morning, Sir Pelleas armed himself; he had not slept since Sir Gawain had promised by the faith of his body to come to him at his pavilion within the space of a day and a night. Sir Pelleas mounted on horseback and came to the pavilions that were set up outside the castle.

In the first pavilion he found three knights in three beds, with three squires lying at their feet. Then he went to the second pavilion and found four gentlewomen lying in four beds. Then he went to the third pavilion and found Sir Gawain lying in bed with his lady Ettard, each embracing the other. When he saw that, his heart almost burst for sorrow, and he said, “Alas that ever a knight should be found to be so false!”

Then he took his horse—for he could stay there no longer, due to his sorrow—and when he had ridden half a mile he stopped and turned, thinking that he might slay them both. When he again saw them both lying asleep together, he could not stay on his horse for sorrow, and he said to himself, “No matter how false this knight is, I will never slay him while he sleeps, for I will never dishonor the high Order of Knighthood.” And with that, he departed again.

Before he had ridden half a mile, he turned back again, thinking to slay them both and making the greatest sorrow that ever a man had made. When he came to the pavilions, he tied his horse to a tree, drew his sword, and went with the naked blade in his hand to where they were lying. Still, he thought it would be a great shame to slay them, so he laid the naked sword across their throats, took his horse, and rode away.

When Sir Pelleas came to his pavilions, he told his knights and squires what had happened, and said to them, “For the good and true service you have done for me, I shall give you all my goods, for I am going to my bed and will never arise again until I am dead. When I am dead, I charge you to take the heart out of my body and bear it between two silver dishes to the Lady Ettard; tell her I saw her lie with that false knight Sir Gawain.” Then Pelleas unarmed and went to his bed, making great dole and sorrow.

Then Sir Gawain and Ettard awoke from their sleep and found the naked sword across their throats. She recognized it as the sword of Sir Pelleas.

“Alas!” she said. “Sir Gawain, you have betrayed Pelleas and me; if he had been as discourteous to you as you have been to him, you would be a dead knight. You have deceived me, and all ladies and damsels should beware and learn a lesson from what has happened with you and me.” At this, Sir Gawain made himself ready and went into the forest.

It so happened that the Damsel of the Lake, Nyneve, met a knight of Sir Pelleas who was traveling on foot in the forest, making great dole. She asked him why, and the woeful knight told her all about how his master and lord was betrayed by a knight and a lady, and how he had taken to his bed, intending to die.

“Take me to him,” she said immediately, “and I will save his life. He shall not die for love, and she who has caused him to love to the point of death will be put in the same evil situation as he before long. It is not right that such a proud lady would have no mercy on such a valiant knight.”

Then that knight brought her to Sir Pelleas, and when she saw him lying there she thought that she had never seen such a handsome man. She threw an enchantment on him so that he fell asleep. Then she rode to see the Lady Ettard, ordering that no man should awaken him until she returned. Within two hours, she brought the Lady Ettard thither, and both ladies found Pelleas asleep.

“Lo,” said the Damsel of the Lake, “you ought to be ashamed for murdering such a knight.” At that, she threw an enchantment on Ettard so that she loved him so much she was almost out of her mind.

“Ah, Lord Jesus!” said the Lady Ettard. “How has it happened that I now love him whom I hated most of any man alive?”

“That is the righteous judgment of God,” said the damsel.

Then Sir Pelleas awoke and looked on Ettard; when he saw her, he recognized her, and he hated her more than any woman living, saying, “Away, traitoress, and come never in my sight!” When she heard him say this, she wept and made great sorrow as if she were out of her mind.

“Sir knight, Pelleas,” said the Damsel of the Lake, “take your horse and go immediately out of this country, and you shall love a lady who will love you in return.”

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“I will gladly,” said Sir Pelleas, “for this lady Ettard has done me great wrong and shame.” Then he told her everything from beginning to end, and how he had intended never to rise from his bed again until he was dead. “And now God has sent me such grace that I hate her as much as I have loved her.”

“You have me to thank for that,” said Nyneve.

Then Sir Pelleas armed himself and got his horse, commanding his men to follow, bringing his pavilions and his goods in such manner as the Damsel of the Lake assigned them. So this lady Ettard died of sorrow, and the Damsel of the Lake rejoiced in Sir Pelleas’ company, and they loved each other all their lives.