Chapter II: Book XI: Arnive

Weary he closed his eyelids, and he slept in a slumber deep
Till the light of the early morning must waken him from his
sleep.
And many a window saw he within that chamber wall,
And clear glass was before each window--Thro' a doorway the
light did fall,
'Twas open, without was an orchard, thither gat him the
gallant knight 5
For the air, and the song-birds' music, and to see what might
meet his sight
And but little space had he sat there, when the castle he saw
again
As at eventide he saw it when he fought on the grassy plain.
And he saw from the hall of the palace full many a maiden
gaze,
And many were fair to look on; and he thought, with a great
amaze, 10
That a wondrous watch they must keep there, since they
wearied not thro' the night,
And little might they have slumbered, for as yet scarce had
dawned the light.

Then he thought, 'For the sake of these ladies will I lay me
to sleep once more.'
Then again to his couch he gat him, and for covering he drew
him o'er
The mantle the maid had lent him--Did no man his slumber
break? 15
Nay, sorely the host had vexed him, if one should his guest
awake.
Then of true heart bethought the maiden, who soft by her
mother lay,
And she roused her from out her slumber, and she took to the
guest her way,
And again he slept so sweetly--Then she thought her, that
gentle maid,
That fain would she do him service, and she sat her beside
his bed, 20
Fair was she, and sweet to look on, and but seldom at
eventide,
Or in hour of the early dawning, such venture has sought my
side!
Short space ere Gawain awakened and beheld how she watched
him there,
And he looked and he laughed upon her, 'God reward thee, thou
maiden fair,
That thou breakest for me thy slumber, on thyself dost thou
vengeance take, 25
Since nor service nor joust so knightly have I ridden for thy
sweet sake!'
And she answered, that gracious maiden, 'On thy service no
claim have I,
But look thou with favour on me, and thy will do I willingly,
And all who are with my father, yea, mother alike and child,
Do hail thee their lord and master, for love of thy dealings
mild!' 30

Then he quoth, 'Is it long since thou camest? Had I of thy
coming known
Fain would I have asked a question, perchance thou the truth
hadst shown:
Yestreen and again this morning fair ladies have looked on me
From a mighty tower, of thy goodness now tell me who may they
be?'
But the maiden she shrunk in terror, and she cried, 'Ask me
not, Sir Knight, 35
Since ne'er may I give an answer--I prithee to hear aright,
If I knew, yet I might not tell thee, nor do thou my silence
chide,
But ask thou what else shall please thee and my lips naught
from thee shall hide,
But on this thing alone keep silence, and follow thou what I
say!'
But Gawain, he would ever ask her, and ever an answer pray, 40
What ladies were they who sat there, and looked from that
stately hall?
And the maiden she wept full sorely, and aloud in her grief
did call.

'Twas yet in the early dawning, and her father he sought her
side,
Nor I deem me had he been wrathful if here did such chance
betide
That Gawain with the maid had striven, and had forced her
unto his will, 45
And the maiden, so fair and gentle, in such wise did she hold
her still,
For beside the couch was she seated--Then her father he
mildly spake,
'Now weep not so sore, my daughter, for if one a jest doth
make
Whereof thou at first art wrathful, yet I ween ere the time
be long,
Shall thy sorrow be changed to gladness, and thy wailing to
joyful song!' 50

Quoth Gawain, 'Nay, mine host, naught hath chanced here save
that which thine eye may see;
This maiden I fain would question, but naught would she tell
to me,
For she thinketh, 'tis my undoing, and silence hath she
implored:
But now if it shall not vex thee let my service here find
reward,
And tell me, mine host, if it please thee, how it stands with
those ladies there, 55
For I know not the place or the country where I looked on
such maidens fair,
So many there are, and their raiment showeth clear to my
wondering sight!'
Then the host wrung his hands for sorrow, and he spake, 'Ask
me not, Sir Knight,
In the name of God, ask no question--For wherever thy foot
shall speed,
Or whatever thine eyes shall light on, no need shall be like
their need!' 60

'Then soothly I'll mourn for their sorrow,' quoth Gawain,
'but mine host now say
Why vex thee so sore for my question? Thine answer why thus
delay?'
'Sir Knight, for thy manhood mourn I, if thou wilt not thy
question spare
Then strife sure shall be thy portion, and sorrow thine heart
shall bear.
And thy sorrow of joy shall rob us, myself and my children
three, 65
Who were born for thy gallant service true service to yield
to thee.'
Quoth Gawain, 'Yet for this thou shalt tell me, or if thou
still say me, Nay,
And I learn not from thee the story yet the truth will I know
alway!'

Then the host he spake out truly, 'Sir Knight, I must sorely
rue,
The question thou here dost ask me--Thou goest to strife
anew, 70
Arm thee well, and a shield I'll lend thee--In "Terre
Merveil" thou art,
And the "Lit Merveil" shall be here--And ne'er hath a
knightly heart
Withstood all the many dangers that in Château Merveil shall
be!
Turn aside, ere thy death o'ertake thee, for life should be
dear to thee!
For wherever thine hand shall have striven, or what ventures
soe'er it found 75
As child's play have been thy perils to those which beset
this ground!'

Quoth Gawain, 'Yet 'twould sorely vex me, if I, but to save
me pain,
Rode hence, doing naught, and those ladies had looked for
mine aid in vain.
Long since have I heard of this castle, and since it so near
doth stand
No man from the task shall bring me; to the venture I set my
hand!' 80
Then the host he did sore bemoan him, and he spake to his
guest so true,
'Now as naught is all other peril, what perils around thee
drew,
To the peril of this adventure, to its awe, and its anguish
dire,
And naught but the truth am I speaking, for no man ever spake
me liar!
But that gallant knight, Sir Gawain, for naught would he turn
aside, 85
But he quoth, 'Now mine host give counsel how the strife I
may best abide,
If thy words be the words of wisdom, and God give me the
strength thereto,
Thy will and thy rede I'll follow, and knightly the deeds
I'll do!
Sir Host, of a sooth it were ill done, did I fail here a blow
to strike,
And coward should I be accounted of foeman and friend alike.' 90
Then first did the host bemoan him, such sorrow he ne'er
might know,
And he quoth to his guest, 'If it may be that Heaven such
grace shall show
That death be not here thy portion, then this land unto thee
shall fall.
And the stake is full many a maiden fast bound in a magic
thrall,
No man ere this day hath freed them--And with them many noble
knights 95
Shall lie as yet imprisoned; and if thou with hand of might
Shall loose them, thou winnest glory, and God showeth grace
to thee,
And joyful, o'er light and beauty, king and ruler thou sure
shalt be!
And maidens from many a country shall honour thee as their
king.
Nor think, if thou now dost ride hence, such deed shame on
thee should bring, 100
Since on this field Lischois Giwellius hath yielded him to
thine hand,
And left unto thee his honour; who erstwhile in every land
Hath done gallant deeds of knighthood, of right may I praise
his name,
No knight showed a higher courage, or won him a fairer fame.
And in no heart the root of virtue it showeth such fair
increase 105
In blossom and flower of God's planting, save in Ither of
Gaheviess!'

'And he who at Nantes slew Prince Ither my ship bare but
yesterday,
Five steeds hath he given unto me, (God keep him in peace
alway,)
Princes and kings once rode them, but now they afar must
fare,
And tidings of him who o'erthrew them must they carry to
Pelrapär. 110
For thus have they sworn the victor--His shield telleth many
a tale
Of jousting so fair and knightly--He rode hence to seek the
Grail!'

Quoth Gawain, 'Say, whence came he hither? Mine host, since
he rode so near,
Knew he naught of the wondrous venture? Or did he the marvel
hear?'
'Sir Knight, ne'er a word hath he heard here, I guarded me
all too well, 115
Lest unseemly my deed be reckoned if unasked I the tale
should tell.
And hadst thou thyself not asked me thou never from me hadst
known
The venture that here awaits thee, wrought of terror and pain
alone.
If thou wilt not forego this peril, and thy life shall the
forfeit pay,
Then never a greater sorrow have we known than we know
to-day. 120
But if thou shalt here be victor, and over this land shalt
reign,
Then my poverty hath an ending, and my loss shall be turned
to gain;
Such trust in thy free hand have I, I shall joy without
sorrow know
If thy glory here winneth glory, and thy body be not laid
low!'

'Now arm thee for deadly warfare!'--unarmed was as yet
Gawain, 125
'Now I prithee bring here my harness!' and the host to his
will was fain.
And from head to foot she armed him, the maiden fair and
tall,
And her father he sought the charger--Now a shield hung upon
the wall,
And the wood it was tough and well hardened, (else Gawain
ne'er this tale might tell,)
And the shield and the horse were brought him--and the host
he bethought him well; 130
And, as once more he stood before him, he spake, 'List thou
well, Sir Knight,
I will tell thee how thou shalt bear thee, and guard thee thy
life in fight:'

'My shield shalt thou carry with thee! Of war shall it bear
no trace
For but seldom I strive in battle, nor I count it me as
disgrace.
When thou comest, Sir Knight, to the castle, do this, it
shall serve thy steed: 135
At the doorway a merchant sitteth, buy of him that which thou
shalt need,
Then give him thy steed, he will hold it, nor care thou what
thou shalt buy,
As a pledge will he hold thy charger, and will give it thee
joyfully
If unhurt from the Burg thou comest!' Quoth Gawain, 'Say,
shall I not ride?'
'Nay, nay, for sore peril neareth, and the maidens their
faces hide!' 140

'Thou shalt find that fair palace lonely, deserted by great
and small,
And no token of living creature shalt thou see in that
stately hall.
And may God's grace watch o'er thy footsteps, and His
blessing go with thine hand
When thou comest into the chamber where the "Lit Merveil"
shall stand.
And the couch, and the rollers beneath it, in Morocco they
first were made 145
For the Ruler of all the Faithful; and were it in the balance
weighed
'Gainst all treasures of crown and kingdom it still would
outweigh them all.
And I wot, there shall ill o'ertake thee, and God knoweth
what shall befall,
But I pray that the end be joyful! Yet hearken, Sir Knight,
to me,
This sword and this shield that thou holdest, in thine hand
must they ever be, 150
For surely when thou shalt think thee that the peril hath
done its worst,
Then _first_ mayst thou look for conflict, and _then_ shall
the storm-cloudburst!'

Then mournful I ween was the maiden, as Gawain to the saddle
sprung,
And all they who stood around her they wept and their hands
they wrung,
Then he quoth to his host, 'God grant me that hereafter I may
repay 115
The care and the kindly counsel I have won from thy lips
to-day.'
Then leave did he pray of the maiden, and her sorrow was sore
to see,
He rode hence, and they whom he left here they mourned for
him bitterly.
And now, if ye fain would hearken what unto Gawain befell,
The tale of his wondrous venture right gladly to ye I'll
tell. 160

And in this wise I heard the story--As he came to the castle
gate,
A merchant with merchandise costly without did his coming
wait.
And so rich were his wares, and precious, that in sooth I
were glad at heart
If I, in so great a treasure, my portion might bear and part.
Then, Sir Gawain, he sprang from his charger, for ne'er had
he seen before 165
Outspread in the open market such goods as were here in
store.
And the booth was of velvet fashioned, four-square, and both
wide and high,
And that which lay there for purchase no monarch might
lightly buy.
The Baruch of Bagdad scarcely had paid that which lay
therein;
Nor the Patriarch of Rankulat might think him such prize to
win. 170
Yea, and great as shall be the treasure that was found but
awhile ago
In the land of the Greeks yet their Emperor such riches might
hardly know!
And e'en if these twain had helped him the price he had
failed to pay
That a man must count for the treasure that here before
Gawain lay.

Then the knight greeted well the merchant as he looked on the
wondrous store 175
Of marvels that lay before him, but he stayed not to turn it
o'er,
But bade him show clasp and girdle; then he quoth to the hero
bold,
'For many a year have I sat here, yet no man doth my wares
behold;
None but ladies have looked upon them! yet if manhood shall
nerve thine hand
Of all here shalt thou be the master; they were brought from
a distant land, 180
If here thou shalt be the victor, (for in sooth hast thou
come for fight,)
And the venture shall well betide thee, I will deal with thee
well, Sir Knight!
For all that my booth containeth is thine if thou win the
day!
So trust thou in God and His mercy, and take to the Burg thy
way.
Plippalinòt in sooth hath sent thee, and thy coming well
praised shall be 185
Of many a gracious maiden if thy prowess shall set her free!'

'Now wouldst thou withstand this venture leave here for
awhile thy steed,
If thou trust it unto my keeping, I will give to the charge
good heed.'
Quoth Gawain, 'Yea, I'll gladly do so, if unseemly be not the
task,
Too greatly I fear thy riches such grace from thine hand to
ask, 190
For ne'er since I rode upon it such keeper my steed hath
known'--
Out quoth the merchant freely, 'Sir Knight, all shall be
thine own,
Myself, and the wares I guard here, (nor further of them I'll
speak,)
They are his, who in safety faceth the danger thou here dost
seek!'

And so bold was I ween the hero that on foot did he go
straightway, 195
Undaunted, to face the peril untold that before him lay.
And, as I before have told ye, the Burg it stood high and
wide,
And its bulwarks so stoutly builded did guard it on either
side.
If for thirty years they stormed it, not a berry or leaf
would yield,
However the foe might threaten; in the midst was a grassy
field, 200
(Yet the Lechfeld I ween is longer,) many turrets they
towered on high,
And the story it tells that Gawain, as the palace he did
espy,
Saw the roof shine all many-coloured, as peacock's plumes its
glow,
And so bright it was that its glory was dimmed nor by rain
nor snow.

And within was it richly furnished, and decked to delight the
eye, 205
And the pillars were richly carven, and the windows were
arched on high,
And many a fair couch costly had they set there against the
wall,
Nor touched they the one to the other, and rich covers lay
over all.
And but now had the maidens sat there, but each one had taken
thought,
And no one of them all remained there, and of welcome Gawain
found naught. 210
Yet their joy came again with his coming, and the day of
their bliss was he,
And 'twere well they had looked upon him, none fairer their
eyes might see.
Yet none there might dare behold him, tho' to serve them he
aye was fain,
And yet in this thing were they guiltless--Thro' the palace
strode knight Gawain,
And he looked on this side and the other, and he sought well
the chamber o'er, 215
If to left or to right I know not, but he saw there an open
door,
And wherever that door might lead him the hero was fain to
go,
If high fame he might gain for his seeking, or die there a
death of woe!

So stepped he within the chamber, and behold! the shining
floor,
As glass it lay smooth beneath him, and the Lit-Merveil he
saw, 220
The wonder-couch; and beneath it four rollers as crystal
clear,
And fashioned of fire-red rubies: as the swift wind afar and
near
Did it speed o'er the shining pavement, no floor might fairer
be,
Chrysolite, sardius, jasper, inwrought there the eye might
see.
For so had Klingsor willed it, and the thought it was his
alone, 225
From far-off lands his magic had brought to the Burg each
stone.

So smooth 'neath his feet the pavement, scarce might be his
footing hold,
Then fain would he seek the venture, but, so is the marvel
told,
As ever he stood before it the couch from its station fled,
And swift as the winds of heaven o'er the glittering floor it
sped. 230
(And Gawain he found all too heavy the shield that his hand
gripped fast,
And yet did his host give counsel it should ne'er on one side
be cast.)
Thought Gawain, 'Now, how may I reach thee, since still thou
dost fly from me?
Methinks thou shalt have a lesson, it may be I may spring to
thee!'
Then still stood the couch before him, and straight from the
ground he leapt 235
And stood firm in the midst of the marvel, and again o'er the
floor it swept,
And hither and thither turning in the four walls its goal it
found,
And blow upon blow fell swiftly, till the Burg echoed back
the sound.

And many a charge did he ride there, with crash, as of
thunder-cloud,
Or as trumpeters blow together when their blasts thro' the
hall ring loud, 240
And the one vieth with the other, and each for a fair prize
blows.
Less loud should have been their tumult than the tumult that
there arose!
And waken and watch must Sir Gawain, altho' on a bed he lay.
How best might the hero guard him? The noise he was fain to
stay,
And his head with his shield he covered--There he lay, and
would wait His will 245
Who hath help in His power, and helpeth all those who entreat
Him still,
And shutteth His ear to no man who in sorrow for aid doth
pray.
And the man who is wise and steadfast, as dawneth his
sorrow's day,
Doth call on the hand of the Highest, that shall ne'er be too
short to reach,
And the aid that shall meet their lacking He sendeth to all
and each. 250
And so was it now with Gawain--Thro' Whose grace he had
gotten fame,
He called on His power and His mercy to shelter him here from
shame.

Then stilled for a space the clamour--The couch stood within
the hall,
And an equal space had they measured from its station to
either wall.
Yet now waxed his peril greater, for five hundred missiles,
swung 255
With craft from hands yet hidden, were against Sir Gawain
flung.
And they fell on the couch as he lay there; but the shield it
was hard and new,
And it sheltered him well, and I think me of the blows did he
feel but few.
And the stones were as river pebbles, so heavy, and hard, and
round,
And in many a place on the surface of the shield might their
trace be found. 260

At length was the stone-shower ended, and never before he
knew
Such sharp and such heavy missiles as those which toward him
flew.
For now full five hundred cross-bows were bended, their bolts
they sped,
And each one was aimed at the hero as he lay on the
Wonder-Bed.
(And he who hath faced such peril in sooth he of darts may
tell:) 265
Yet their wrath was soon spent, and silence for awhile on the
chamber fell.
And he who would seek for comfort he ne'er on such couch
should lie!
Little solace or rest may he find there, but peace from his
face shall fly!
And youth would wax grey and agèd, if such comfort should be
its share
As fell to the lot of Gawain, when he lay on that couch so
fair. 270
Yet nor weariness nor terror had weakened or hand or heart,
Tho' the stones and the bolts of the cross-bow had done on
his limbs their part,
And spite of both shield and corslet, sore bruisèd and cut
was he:
And he thought that, this peril ended, the venture should
ended be--
But yet with his hand must he battle, and the prize of the
victor win, 275
For a doorway e'en now flew open, and one trode the hall
within;
And the man was a mighty peasant, and fearful of face, and
grim,
And the hide of the grey sea-otter was his covering on head
and limb,
And his hosen were wide, and he carried a club in his strong
right hand,
And 'twas thicker I ween than a pitcher that round-bellied
doth firmly stand. 280

So came he unto Sir Gawain, (and his coming it pleased him
ill,)
Yet he thought, 'He doth bear no harness, mine arms shall
withstand him still,'
Upright on the couch he sat him, as nor terror nor pain he
knew,
And the peasant, as he would flee him, a space from the bed
withdrew,
And he cried in a voice so wrathful, 'From _me_ hast thou
naught to fear, 285
Yet such peril I'll loose upon thee that thy life must thou
buy full dear;
The devil himself doth aid thee, else wert thou not still in
life,
Bethink thee, for death cometh swiftly, and the ending of all
thy strife,
No more can the devil shield thee, that I tell thee ere hence
I pass!'
Then he gat him once more thro' the doorway, and Gawain
gripped his sword-hilt fast, 290
And the shafts did he smite asunder of the arrows that thro'
his shield
Had passed, and had pierced his armour, nor yet to his hand
would yield.

Then a roar, as of mighty thunder, on the ear of Gawain did
fall,
As when twenty drums were sounding to dance in the castle
hall.
Then the hero, so firm and dauntless, whose courage ne'er
felt the smart 295
Of the wounds that cowardice pierceth, thought thus in his
steadfast heart:
'What evil shall now befall me? Must I yet more sorrow know?
For sorrow enow have I seen here, yet here will I face my
foe!'
He looked toward the peasant's doorway, and a mighty lion
sprang thro',
And its size was e'en that of a warhorse, and straight on
Gawain it flew. 300
But Gawain he was loth to fly here, and his shield he held
fast before,
As best for defence should serve him, and he sprang down upon
the floor.
And the lion was hunger-ravening, yet little should find for
food,
Tho' raging it sprang on the hero, who bravely its rush
withstood.

The shield it had near torn from him, with the first grip its
talons fierce 305
It drave thro' the wood, such hardness but seldom a beast may
pierce.
Yet Gawain did right well defend him, his sword-blade aloft
he swung,
And on three feet the beast must hold him, while the fourth
from the shield yet hung.
And the blood gushed forth on the pavement, and Gawain he
firmer stood,
And the fight raged hither and thither, as the lion, on the
hero good, 310
Sprang ever with snorting nostrils, and gleaming fangs and
white--
And if on such food they had reared it, that its meat was a
gallant knight,
_I_ had cared not to sit beside it! Nor such custom pleased
Gawain well,
Who for life or for death must fight it--and the strife ever
fiercer fell.

So sorely the beast was wounded, the chamber with blood ran
o'er; 315
Fierce sprang the lion upon Gawain, and would bear him unto
the floor,
But Gawain a sword-thrust dealt him, thro' the heart the
swift blade sped
Till his hand smote full on the breast-bone, and the lion at
his feet fell dead.
And now all the deadly peril and the conflict was over-past--
In the same hour Gawain bethought him, 'Where now shall my
lot be cast? 320
Since to sit in this blood I like not, and I must of the
couch beware,
For it runneth a race so frantic 'twere foolish to sit me
there!'

But yet was his head so deafened with the blows that upon him
fell,
And many his wounds, and the life-blood did forth from its
fountains well,
And his strength waxed faint, and it left him, and he fell on
the chamber floor; 325
His head lay on the lion's body, and the shield might he hold
no more.
And if wisdom and power were his portion, of the twain was he
reft I ween,
And tho' fair was the Burg, yet within it full rough had his
handling been.

His senses forsook him wholly--no such pillow I ween was his
As that which on Mount Ribbelé Gymele gave to Kahenis; 330
Both fair and wise was the maiden--and his honour he slept
away--
But here honour ran swift-footed to Gawain as he prostrate
lay.
For in sooth ye shall well have hearkened, and shall know how
such chance befell,
That thus lay the hero lifeless, from the first have ye heard
it well.

Then in secret one looked upon him, and the chamber with
blood was red, 335
And the lion alike and the hero they lay as the twain were
dead.
'Twas a fair and gracious maiden who saw thro' a loop-hole
high,
And her face it grew wan, and the colour from her lips and
her cheek must fly.
And youth was so heavy-hearted that old age sore must mourn
her tale.
Yet Arnivé was wise, and her wisdom did here o'er the woe
prevail, 340
And still for this deed must I praise her, she drew near to
aid Gawain,
And from peril of death she freed him who freedom for her
would gain.

Then herself she was fain to behold him, and they gazed thro'
the window small,
And naught might they tell, those women, of what waited them
in the hall.
Was it news of a joyful future? Or of woe that should last
for aye? 345
And the queen's heart it sore misgave her that the hero had
died that day,
(And the thought brought her grief and sorrow,) since he
sought him no better bed,
But silent he lay, and rested on the corse of the lion his
head.
And she spake, 'From my heart I mourn thee, if thy manhood so
true and brave
Hath won thee no better guerdon, and thy life thou hast
failed to save. 350
If death here hath been thy portion for our sake, who shall
strangers be,
And thy truth to such fate hath brought thee, then for ever
I'll mourn for thee.
And thy virtue I'll praise, tho' the counting of thy years I
may never know!'
And she spake to the weeping women, as they looked on the
knight laid low,
'Ye maids who shall be baptizèd, and by water have won a
place 355
In God's kingdom, pray ye unto Him, that He show to this hero
grace!'

Then she sent below two maidens, and she bade them to seek
Gawain,
And softly draw nigh unto him, nor pass from his side again
Till they brought her full assurance how it went with the
gallant knight,
If perchance he should yet be living, or had found his death
in fight. 360
So she gave to the twain commandment--Did they weep those
maidens fair?
Yea, both must weep full sorely for the grief that was here
their share,
When they found the hero lying, for his wounds they ran with
blood
Till the shield in blood was swimming--then they bent o'er
the hero good,
And with gentle hand the helmet one loosened from off his
head, 365
And she saw a light foam gathered upon his lips so red,
And she waited a space and hearkened, if perchance she might
hear his breath,
For but now had she thought him living, yet she deemed it
might well be death.
And his over-dress was of sable, and the mystic beasts it
bore,
Such as Ilinot the Breton as his badge with great honour
wore. 370
(And courage and fame were his portion from his youth till
his dying day.)
From the coat with her ready fingers the sable she tore away,
And she held it before his nostrils, for thus might she
better know
If yet he should live, since his breathing would stir the
hair to and fro.

And the breath was yet there, and straightway she bade her
companion bring 375
Fair water, the gentle maiden did swift on her errand spring.
Then the maid placed her ring so golden betwixt his teeth
closed fast,
And deft was her hand in the doing, and between his lips she
passed,
Drop by drop, e'en as he might take it, the water, and little
space
Ere he lifted once more his eyelids, and he looked on the
maiden's face. 380
And he thanked them, those two sweet children, and offered
them service meet--
Alas! that ye here should find me, unseemly laid at your
feet!
If ye will on this chance keep silence, for good will I count
the deed,
And courtesy shall ye honour if ye give to my words good
heed!'

Quoth the maid, 'Thou hast lain, and thou liest, as one who
the prize doth hold, 385
In sooth thou art here the victor and in joy shall thy life
wax old,
To-day is thy day of triumph! But comfort us now I pray,
Is it so with thy wounds that, naught fearing, we may joy in
thy joy to-day?'
Then he quoth, 'Would ye see me living, then help shall ye
bring to me.'
And he prayed of those gracious maidens that a leech to his
wounds should see, 390
Or one who was skilled in healing, 'But if yet I must face
the strife,
Go ye hence, give me here my helmet, and gladly I'll guard my
life!'
But they spake, 'Nay, the strife is over, Sir Knight, send us
not away,
Yet one shall go, and the guerdon of messenger win
straightway.
To the four queens shall she betake her, and shall say that
thou livest still, 395
And a chamber shall they prepare thee, and leechcraft with
right goodwill,
And with salves shall thy wounds be tended, and so mild shall
their working be
That thy pain shall be swiftly lessened, and healing be
brought to thee!'
Then one of the maids sprang swiftly, and she ran with no
halting tread,
With the news that the knight was living straightway to the
court she sped. 400
'In sooth shall he be so living, if ever it be God's will,
Rich in joy may we be henceforward and glad without fear of
ill,
For naught but good help he needeth,' 'Dieu Merci!' then
quoth they all.
Then the old queen wise her maidens did straightway around
her call,
And she bade them a bed prepare him, and a carpet she spread
before, 405
And a fire on the hearth burnt brightly, and precious the
salves they bore.
And the queen with wisdom mixed them for the healing of cut
or bruise.
In that hour from among her women four maids did Arnivé
choose,
And she bade them disarm the hero, and his harness bear soft
away,
And with wisdom should they deal with him lest he feel
himself shamed alway. 410
'A silk shall ye bear about ye, in its shadow the knight
disarm,
If yet he can walk he may do so, if else, bear him in your
arms
To where I by the bed await him, for his couch will I rightly
care,
If the strife in such wise hath fallen that no deadly wound
he bear,
Then I think me I soon may heal him, but if wounded he be to
death 415
Then cloven our joy--with the hero are we slain tho' we yet
draw breath!'

And all this was done as she bade them, disarmed was the
knight Gawain,
Then they led him where help they gave him who well knew to
ease his pain.
And of wounds did they find full fifty, or perchance they
were even more,
But the darts had not pierced too deeply since ever his
shield he bore. 420
Then the queen in her wisdom took her warm wine, and a sendal
blue,
And Dictam, the herb of healing, and she wiped with her hand
so true
The blood from his wounds, and she closed them, and the flow
of the life-blood stayed.
And wherever his helm was indented the stones on his head had
made
Sore bruises, yet they must vanish 'fore the salves and their
healing power, 425
And the master-skill of Arnivé who tended him in that hour!

And she quoth, 'Ease I well may give thee, whiles Kondrie
doth come to me,
And all help that may be in leechcraft of her friendship she
telleth free.
Since Anfortas so sore doth suffer, and they seek aid from
far and near,
This salve shall from death have kept him, from Monsalväsch
'twas brought me here.' 430
When Gawain heard she spake of Monsalväsch, then in sooth was
he glad at heart,
For he deemed it was near--Then this hero, who ne'er had in
falsehood part,
Spake thus to the queen, 'Now, Lady, my senses that far were
fled,
Hast thou won back again, and mine anguish I ween hast thou
minishèd,
What of strength shall be mine, or of wisdom, I owe to thine
hand alone, 435
Thy servant am I!' But the queen spake, 'Sir Knight, thou
such faith hast shown
That we all must rejoice in thy welfare, and strive for it
faithfully.
But follow my rede, nor speak much, a root will I give to
thee
That shall win thee refreshing slumber, thou shalt care not
for drink or meat
Till the night, then such food I'll bring thee thou shalt
need not ere morn to eat.' 440

Then a root 'twixt his lips she laid there, and straightway
he fell asleep,
And throughout the day he slumbered, and in coverings they
happed him deep.
Rich in honour and poor in shaming, soft and warm, there in
peace he lay,
Yet he sneezed, and at whiles he shivered, for the salve
wrought on him alway.
And a company of fair women passed within and without the
door, 445
And fair was the light of their faces, and stately the mien
they bore.
And she bade them, the Queen Arnivé, that silence they all
should keep,
None should call, and no maiden answer, so long as the knight
should sleep.
And she bade them fast close the palace, nor burger, nor
squire, nor knight,
Should hear what had there befallen till the dawn of the
morning light. 450

But new sorrow drew nigh to the women--The knight slept till
even grey,
Then Arnivé the queen in her wisdom drew the root from his
lips away.
And straightway he woke, and he thirsted, and they brought
him of drink and meat,
And he raised himself and, rejoicing, as they brought him so
would he eat:
And many a maid stood before him, such fair service he ne'er
had known, 455
So courteous their mien and bearing--then he looked at them
one by one
And he gazed at each and the other, yet still his desire was
set
On the lady Orgelusé, for ne'er saw he woman yet,
In all the days of his lifetime, who so near to his heart did
lie;
Tho' many his prayer had hearkened, and _some_ did their love
deny! 460
Then out spake the gallant hero to Arnivé, his leech so wise,
'Lady, 'twill ill beseem me, nor deal I in courteous guise,
If these ladies stand here before me, I would they might
seated be,
Or if such be thy will it were better shouldst thou bid them
to eat with me!'
'Nay, Sir Knight, none I ween may sit here save I, the queen,
alone, 465
And shamed would they surely hold them were such service not
gladly done,
For our joy shalt thou be; yet I think me that if this be thy
will indeed,
Whate'er shall be thy commandment, we will give to thy words
good heed.'
But nobly born were those ladies, and their courtesy did they
show,
For all with one voice they prayed him he would e'en let the
thing be so, 470
And while he should eat they would stand there; so waited
they on the guest
And passed hence when the meal was ended and Gawain was laid
to rest.

BOOK XII

EIDEGAST

ARGUMENT

In Book XII. the poet recounts the valiant deeds done by Gawain's kinsmen for love's sake, and how they were as naught to the perils dared by Gawain.

Of the watch-tower in the castle, and the magic pillar, and how Gawain beheld the coming of Orgelusé and her knight.

How Gawain fought with and overcame the Turkowit, and how he was urged by Orgelusé's mockery to the venture of the Perilous Ford. How he plucked a bough from a tree guarded by King Gramoflanz, and was challenged by that monarch to single combat. Of the repentance of Orgelusé, and her reconciliation with Gawain, and how both were welcomed by the dwellers in Château Merveil. How Gawain secretly sent a squire to the court of King Arthur bidding him, his knights and ladies, to Ioflanz to witness the combat between Gawain and Gramoflanz.