As he'd expected, he was prevented from doing so. As soon as he left his chamber, a servant approached. "Good morning, Sir Gawain," said the servant. "I was just coming to wake you."
"You were?"
"Yes, my master says you have to go to the Green Chapel today, and if you're going to the Green Chapel, you have to go at dawn."
"At dawn? Why?"
"Those are the rules of the chapel, Sir Gawain. Are you ready?"
"Isn't Sir Bredbaddle going to take me himself?"
"My master never arises early."
Sir Gawain smiled to himself and played along. "But I haven't had a chance to thank him for his hospitality. Surely it would be all right to wake him."
"Besides," said the servant hastily, "it's a holiday. My master always sleeps in on holidays. He's very particular about such things."
Sir Gawain knew the servant would never take him to Sir Bredbaddle's room, and why, so he allowed the servant to hurry him down to the courtyard, where his horse was saddled and waiting. "You must leave at once," the servant said. "Go out the main gate, take the path to the left, and stay on it. It will lead you directly to the Green Chapel." The gates of the castle opened, the servant slapped Sir Gawain's horse on the haunches, and the steed leaped into a run.
As the servant had promised, the path led straight to the chapel. The sun was just peeking above the horizon when Sir Gawain rode into a clearing. It was an ancient and eerie-looking place, where the grass waved as fresh and green as if it were the first of June instead of the first of January. In the center of the clearing stood a round low structure with cavelike openings instead of doors. From behind that, Sir Gawain heard the raspy sound of an axe being sharpened on a stone. He rode around the chapel. There stood the Green Knight from the Christmas feast, his head back on his shoulders and looking, if anything, even taller than he had the year before.
"Ah, there you are, Sir Gawain!" called the knight. He tested the edge of his blade with his thumb and nodded with satisfaction. "I'm glad to see you. Some people don't keep their promises, you know."
Sir Gawain ignored these words, scanning the
wild knight's face for anything that looked familiar. He saw nothing, but Sir Gawain was sure he was right.
"What's the matter, Sir Gawain?"
"Excuse me for staring," murmured Sir Gawain, dismounting. Beside the whetstone stood a thick old oak stump, scarred and crossed with many axe cuts. Sir Gawain made his way toward this stump.
"You're not wearing your armor," the Green Knight said.
"No," replied Sir Gawain, "these are the clothes that I wear when I know I won't need to fight. I have a special name for them, in fact."
The Green Knight raised one eyebrow. "And what would that be?" he asked.
"I call them my clothes that I wear when I know I won't need to fight," Sir Gawain explained innocently.
The Green Knight's eyes narrowed, and they held a suspicious light as they examined Sir Gawain. Sir Gawain tried to keep his face blank and turned back to the stump. "Is this where you chop off heads?" he asked.
"It is."
"Well, that's why we're here, isn't it? Let's get on with it." He knelt at the stump, then glanced up. "Go ahead, then. Chop off my head."
The Green Knight didn't move.
"Well?" demanded Sir Gawain, assuming an air of impatience. "Come on, then. I haven't got all day. I mean that, you know. I really haven't got all day—just one part of it. So chop off my head, why don't you?"
Still the Green Knight didn't move. "No one has ever actually invited me to chop off his head," he muttered.
"They haven't?" asked Sir Gawain. "It happens to me all the time. First you, last New Year's, then a dwarf named Spinagras, then a knight named Gologras. Annoying, isn't it?"
"A little," the Green Knight admitted.
Smiling to himself, Sir Gawain bowed his head at the stump again. The Green Knight cleared his throat and stepped forward, and Sir Gawain held up his hand. "Oh, just one thing before you swing." Digging in his pocket, he produced the green sash that Lady Agnes had given him the day before and tossed it to the Green Knight. "You didn't give me a chance to give this to you last night, but here's one more thing I got from my day in your castle: your wife gave it to me."
The Green Knight froze, and Sir Gawain turned around and grinned. The Green Knight lowered his axe. "How did you figure it out?"
"Lucky guess, I suppose," replied Sir Gawain. "It was all a test, wasn't it? I behaved like a scaly cad to your wife that day in the forest, so you set up this whole beheading game to punish me."
"It was something like that," the Green Knight replied.
"Yes, she mentioned that she had spent some time plotting revenge."
"Not revenge, exactly," the Green Knight said, "just a little lesson in manners. And if I may say so, you've been an excellent student. Agnes says you are now the most courteous knight she's ever met."
"By the way," Sir Gawain asked, "how do you change shape like that?"
"I'm not just a knight. I'm a sorcerer, too, on my father's side. I'm particularly good at shape shifting."
"Yes, you are," Sir Gawain agreed. He took a deep breath, then turned around again. "Well, are you going to cut off my head now?"
"Well, no, I wasn't planning on it," replied the Green Knight.
"But a vow's a vow," Sir Gawain said sternly.
"You may have vowed to let me hit you—a vow you've kept, by the way-but if you'll think back, you recall that I never made any vow at all."
"Ah, yes," Sir Gawain said, nodding. "After all, you promised your father you wouldn't make any vows, didn't you?"
The Green Knight's mouth dropped open. "You've even figured that out?"
"That was the part I figured out first. It was something you said. So tell me, which do you prefer to be called? The Green Knight? Bredbaddle? Gologras? Or Spinagras?"
The Green Knight smiled broadly, then began to chuckle, then to laugh. As he laughed, his green coloring faded and his features rearranged themselves until he was in Sir Gologras's shape. "I like best to be called your friend," the knight said. "Come on, I believe Agnes should have our breakfast ready by now."
King Arthur never stopped telling his knights that courtesy was as important as courage, even if his knights didn't always quite see what he was getting at. But after that year, Sir Gawain at least never forgot it. He remained the most courtly, most courteous, most honorable of all the knights of the Round Table—and, above all, the best and most thoughtful of companions. No one called him Sir Gawain the Undefeated any longer. Indeed, most forgot that he had ever been called such a thing. People called him Sir Gawain the True, unless they were lucky enough to be one of those who could call him, simply, "friend."
Gerald Morris, The Adventures of Sir Gawain the True
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends