Sir Gawain and the Green Knight by Benedict Flynn

Author:Benedict Flynn [Flynn, Benedict]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: POE008000
ISBN: 9781843796510
Publisher: Naxos AudioBooks UK Ltd
Published: 2012-02-10T00:00:00+00:00

Fitt IV

So New Year draws near and the night passes clear.

As God decrees, day comes to drive off the dark

but the world wakes up to wild weather without,

clouds casting a bitter cold across the earth,

withering north winds lashing the naked and quick.

Snow blusters thickly, freezing the wild creatures,

and the whistling wind wails wildly through the air,

driving up high drifts in the dales below.

The knight listens to it keen, lying in bed,

and though his eyes are closed he can sleep little.

With each cock that crows he recalls what awaits.

Before the day dawned he was up and dressed

by the light of a lamp left in his bedchamber.

He called to his servant, who appeared quickly,

and bid him bring his byrnie and his saddle;

and briskly he fetches Gawain’s armour.

He sets up Gawain suited in splendid style,

clad him first in clothes to counter the chill,

then in battle harness, carefully kept handsome;

both stomach and breastplates were burnished and bright

and the rings of his chain mail rid of their rust.

All was as fresh as new; for this he gave thanks

indeed,

Putting on each polished piece

furbished to suit his need.

Most gallant from here to Greece

he sent then for his steed.

He fastened on the finest pieces himself –

his coat with its clear blazon embroidered in

embellished velvet, bound with gems of virtue,

bordered and seamed with more fine embroidery

and artfully finished with wonderful fur.

Nor did he leave behind the belt, the lady’s gift;

Gawain did not forget that, for his own good.

When he had buckled his sword belt on his hips

he wrapped that love token twice about his waist,

swathing himself in its sweet silkiness.

The girdle of green silk suited the gallant,

striking against the royal red cloth he wore.

But it was not for its worth he bore the belt,

nor pride in its pendants, polished though they were,

nor the glittering gold that gleamed at their ends.

Rather to save him when he came to suffer

his blow without sword to defend him or blade

of war.

Ready, he stepped out bravely

and stood before the door.

Then to that high society

he gave his thanks once more.

Then Gringolet was groomed for him, his great horse.

Stabled and cared for in comfort and safety,

the proud steed was in fine fettle, fretting to go.

Gawain went to him and marked his condition

and said soberly, swearing by his honour:

‘This castle’s company cares for its honour.

May joy come to the man that maintains them and

delight in life to his beloved lady.

If for charity they cherish a guest and

uphold their house in honour, may God reward them,

their household as well, and handsomely too.

Were I to be alive in this land much longer

I would find some way to reward you all too.’

With that, he stepped in his stirrup and, mounted,

took up his shield from his man, slung it on his shoulder.

Gringolet he goaded then with gilded heels;

the courser sprang from the paving, not pausing

to prance.

His squire was ready to ride

bearing his spear and lance.

‘Christ keep the castle,’ he cried,

‘and its fortune advance.’

The drawbridge was lowered and the double gates

unbarred, were thrown wide open on either side.

The brave knight blessed himself

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