Back to "The Hunt" Mainpage
The Green Knight makes his appearance at the court of King Arthur...
(136) ... one truly wondered at the hue Of his countenance when seen; For he acted like a thing bewitched And was, head to toe, ink-green. . . . . . . . . . . . . (173) The steed that he sat on shared the same color, It's true; A green horse, huge and heavy, A stallion hard to subdue; In its bordered bridle, it was quick Its master's will to pursue. . . . . . . . . . . . . (196) Such a foal in a field or a fellow to ride upon it Was never observed in that open hall before that hour By any man alive. He looked as lithe as lightning, 200 Said those who saw him arrive. It seemed no mortal might His deadly blows survive.
Its true. The Green Knight offers the challenge of a Yuletide "game," in which he will suffer a "thrust" from his opponent-- on the condition that if he survives, the Green Knight may return the blow within a year's time. Sir Gawain excepts, and lobs off his head. The decapitated Green Knight proceeds to laugh, places his detached head back on his shoulders, and demands that Gawain "Come to the Green Chapel... to suffer a dent like the one you've dealt me--". The following year, as Gawain sets out for the Green Chapel he accepts the hospitality of one Sir Bercilak, who proves to be a huntsman of prodigious talent, and not all what he appears to be..... Sir Bercilak sets out on the hunt, and as we see by the end of the poem, it was Gawain who was the Hunted....
In the gloom before day break, the guests who would journey Stirred from their slumber and summoned their grooms And busied themselves with saddling their stallions. They tended to their gear, tying up their trunks And arrayed themselves royally for their riding away. They leaped on their mounts lightly, lifting the reins, And they all departed to their desired destinations. The overlord of that land was far from the last one To be ready to ride off with his many retainers. He hurried through his breakfast and then heard his mass And briskly breezed to the fields at the bugle's cry. As the morning's glow was glimmering along the horizon, The man and his minions hat high upon their mounts. The crafty kennelmen then leashed up their canines And pulled the pound's doors open, letting them pour forth, While the bugles kept blaring some solitary blasts. The beagles bounded out, all barking and baying; They were chastised and whipped if they strayed in that course By about a hundred hunters, I've heard-- the best Who ever might be. The trainers took their stations As the bloodhounds were set free; Bugles blared throughout the wood, And a roar rose through the trees. At the chase's first cries, nature's creatures were quaking; Deer rushed down to the dales darting with fear, Then hurtled back to the heights, where they were hastily Turned around by the beaters with their bold bellowings. They let the harts with their high head pass safely by, As well as the buck with their broadly branched antlers, Since the free-giving lord had forbidden in the off-season Any man to molest one of the masculine deer. The hinds were hemmed in with a "Hey!" and a "Ho!" While the does were driven with a din to the glades. There you could see arrows slipped out and slicing As the shafts whizzed up under the bends of the boughs, Then dipped and bit those brown hinds under those broad heads. Ah! They bray and they bleed; they die on those banks! For the hounds always follow them hot and heavy, While hunters with high-pitched horns pursue ceaselessly, With a shrill-sounding cry, as if the steep hills were crumbling. Any wild ones who managed to get away from the archers Were pursued and pulled down at the lower posts, For they were harried on high, then herded to the water. The kennelmen were very cunning at catching them below, as the greyhounds were great at getting them quickly And finishing them off as fast as you could focus your sight. Our lord was a very merry boy; He's ride, and then he'd alight; Yes, he rode all that day with joy Till on came the darkening night. This lord we leave bantering by the lindenwood's borders, While Gawain the good-hearted lies in his gaudy bed, Lolling there while daylight is lengthening on the walls.... . . . . . . . . . . . . Meanwhile the overlord rode on and on at his pleasure, Looking for fawnless hinds in the holts and the heaths. By the time the sun was setting, he had slain such a sum Of does and other deer that it was dazzling to behold. Toward evening the hunting-folk eagerly flocked together And hastily made a heap of the hewn-down game. The highest hurried up with their henchmen around them And collected the plumpest corpses piled up there, And had them cleanly cut up as custom demanded; At the assaying, they searched for some select innards, Finding a good two fingers of fat on even the thinnest. Then they slit the slot and seized the gullet, Scraping it with a sharp knife and tying it into a knot; Then they hacked off the legs and stripped away the hide, Breaking open the belly and scooping out the bowels Deftly, so as not to destroyed the duly tied knot. Then they seized the gullet and scrupulously separated The esophagus from the pipe, gouging out the guts; With sharp knives, they sheared through the hide And pulled out the shoulders, leaving the skin intact. Then they broke the breast into two separate bits And they began to hack again back at the gullet, Slitting it swiftly right down to the front legs, Clipping away the clavicle pieces and very cleanly Removing the membranes rapidly from the rib-cage; Then, as was customary, they cleaned the ridge of the spine, All the way to the haunches, which hung together; Those parts which were pulled up and then completely detached have a special and well-suited name of "the numbles," So I find. At the breaching of the thighs, They cut the skin behind; And to separate it swiftly, The backbone they unbind. Both the head and the neck they disconnected then and they swiftly severed the hides away from the chine, Tossing "the raven's reward" into a rugged thicket. Then the ran the thick flanks through by the ribs And hung them up by the hocks of the haunches, As every fellow claimed the fee that fell to him. And on the dearly priced pelts they fee the pet hounds, Letting them feats on livers and lungs and tripe Blended with bits of bread that were soaked in blood. Then the bugle's "sound of the kill" blared over the dog-bays, And they folded their harvest of flesh and headed for home, Striking strident note after note on their silvery horns. By the time the daylight had run, the rout had returned To the comfortable castle, where our cavalier was resting By the fire's side In perfect bliss and ease. The lord bounced up with a stride, And Gawain hailed him home; Their joy was unqualified. . . . . . . . . . . . . When the cock had crowed and cackled just three times, The high lord leapt out of his bed, along with his lieges; The morning meal and the masses were duly taken care of, And the courtiers dressed for the woods before the dawn sprang, Off to their chase. The hunters high with horns Passed through an open place, Unleashing among the thorns The hounds to run their race. The dogs soon barked after a scent along a bog-side And the hunters howled out the names of the hounds who sniffed it, Shouting encouraging cries with strident sounds; Hearing this, the hounds hurtled forward in haste, Falling fast on the track, about forty at once; Then such a yelping and yowling of yappers Rose up that the rocks all rang around with the sound. The chasers urged them onward with cheers and with horns. The pack pushed forward together in a great press Between a fen in the forest and a fiendish-looking crag; On a mound by a cliff at the quagmire's side. Where some rough rough rocks had once some rumbling down, They raced after the quarry as the hunters rushed behind; The men encompassed the mound and the cliff together, Knowing full well that within it was lurking A beast that the bloodhounds were now baying out. The men beat the bushes and bellowed: "Come out!" It ferociously lunged from the lair on attack-- One of the biggest boars you have ever seen! It had wandered all alone because of its great age; And it was grim-looking and quite gigantic, And ghastly when it grunted; the men soon groaned, because at the first thrust, it threw three to the ground, Then sped away at full speed without further spite. The men shouted "Hi!"; they yelled "Hey, hey!" Holding their horns to their mouths and recalling the hounds. Many were the merry mouths of the men and the dogs Who coursed along after this boar to catch it with cries To kill and fell. The pig often stood at bay And maimed the pack pell-mell; It hurt the hounds, and they Very painfully yowl and yell. Archers fully armed stepped up then to aim at him, Showered him with shafts that struck him repeatedly; but the points couldn't penetrate his powerful shoulders, and the barbs didn't take a bite away from his brows. No, the soft-wooded arrows simply split into splinters, And the arrowheads hopped away harmlessly after a hit. But as the storm kept stinging him with fiery strokes, Raving wildly for revenge, he rushed at his tormentors And gored them most grimly wherever he would go. Most of them shivered, and then they slinked back. But the lord on his lithe horse lunged after the boar, Blowing his bugle like a man who is bent on battle. he rallied the hounds, riding through the rough brushwood, Pursuing that pig until the sun began to plummet. All day long they engaged in activities of this kind While our kindly courtier lay comfortably in bed: Sir Gawain safely at home, swaddled in his Wealthy gear. . . . . . . . . . . . . The hero then stirred and straggled down to his mass, And next his supper was ready and superbly served. He amused himself all day long with the able lady, While her husband was hunting over the homeland turf, Pursuing the ill-fated swine, which was sweeping the slopes, Biting the backs of his finest beagles in two. When the boar was at bay, the bowmen would break his stance And, despite his persistence, force him to change position As fierce arrows kept falling while a following gathered. Still the swine often forced the stalwart into wavering, Till finally he was so exhausted, he could escape no more. Summoning what might he could muster, he managed to reach A crevice in a cliff where a cold creek was flowing. He put the slope at his back and scraped the soil, With froth foaming out of his fierce-looking mouth. He whet his white tusks; this wait permitted the men, Who were weary from wearing him down at a distance, To enclose him in a crowd-- yet no one had the courage To draw near; He had hurt so many before That all were filled with fear Of being torn apart by those tusks; He was savage and severe. The up swept the seigneur, spurring on his teed, Spied the standing boar with his men spread in a circle. He leapt down lightly from his courser's back And, brandishing a blade, he boldly strode forward, Wading right through the water to where the beats waited. The wild one was aware of that weapon in his hand, He heaved up his bristles and then he horribly snorted. Many feared that the felon would gore their friend. The swine then hurtled straight off toward his adversary, So that baron and boar both fell in one big tumble In the wild-rushing water. and the boar got the worst. The man his the mark well at the shock of their meeting, Plunging his sword into the soft slot above the breastplate All the way down to the hilt. it split open the heart. The snarling one snapped, then slipped away into the water Upon his back. A hundred hounds splashed in, Biting him blue and black; Lads bore him then to the shore, Where the dogs finished off the attack. Then blasts were blown from several blaring horns; there was a high hallooing as loud as they could make; The bloodhounds bayed their best as they were bid by the chief men who presided over the challenging chase. Then a man who was wise in the ways of woodcraft Began the skillful butchering of that boar. First he sliced off the head and set it on a stake; Then he split the body roughly straight down to the spine; He scooped out the bowels and broiled them over the embers, Blending them with breadcrumbs as a boon for his hounds. Then he carved some broad cuts away from the carcass, Removing the entrails in a way that was just right; Then he stitched the two sides securely together And slung them over a strong and sturdy pole. With the swine swinging, the men then started home. The boar's head was borne in front of the baron Who had felled him in that forest, using the force Of his strong hand. Until he could reach Sir Gawain the time seemed too long to stand; Crying hello, he rushed in, His day's fee to demand. . . . . . . . . . . . . Sir Gawain lay and slept Soft and sound all night; While the lord, keeping to his craft, Arose very early and bright. After mass he and his men took a very brief meal. The morning was magnificent as he mounted on his steed, And the hunters who would go with him got on their horses, Sitting tall in their saddles before the tower gates. The fields were beautifully blanketed under a film of frost, While the sun with ruddy streaks soared up through the cloud-puffs, Then coasted with radiance along the cumulus crests. The hunters unleashed their hounds alongside a thicket, And the rocks around rang clear with the clarion cries. Some hit on the scent that was left by the hiding fox; They pursue a torturous track that tests their wiles. A small dog was yelping, and his master yelled after; All sniffing, the fellow hounds now followed his lead. They rushed in a rabble, having found the right track. The fox flashed before them; they dashed after him fast; One they perceive him, they pursue all the harder, Cursing at him cruelly with crass indignation. He twisted and turned through the tangle of thickets, Hurtling backward to hear alongside the hedgerows. At last, at the side of a little ditch, he leapt over a fence, Then stole out stealthily inside a small copse, Half-outwitting by his wiles those pursuers in the woods. But he wandered, unaware, right into a pack of whelps, And three in one throw thrust themselves upon him In their coats of grey. He swerved again most swiftly And unfailingly got away; To the woods he ran a-racing, Filled with woe and with dismay. What a heavy thing it was to hear those hounds, As the whole pack picked up his scent and pursued again! Such swears the men growled whenever they got a glimpse of him, As if the clambering cliffs would come crashing down! The hunters hollered "Halloo" whenever they met him, Loudly haranguing him with their howls of scorn; They threatened him dourly; they dubbed him a thief; They tailed him continuously, not allowing any tarrying; They hounded him endlessly, till he headed for the open, And then he reeled back again, for Reynard has his ruses. He led them every which-way, that lord and his lieges, Over hill and hollow till half the afternoon was gone. Meanwhile our hero at home was wholesomely sleeping.... . . . . . . . . . . . . The lord of that land was still leading on his men, And had overtaken that fox he had followed so ferociously. As he darted over a hedge on the track of that dodger, And heard the hounds bearing down heatedly on the prey, He saw Reynard coming out of a rugged thicket, And all of that rabble were riotously on his heels. The baron, aware of the wild one, craftily waited, Then flashed out his shiny sword and skillfully struck. The fox flinched away from the blade and would have fled, But before he could bolt, a hound came bounding after him, And right in front of the horses' feet, the pack fell on him, Attacking the wily one with a wild-sounding roar! The lord swooped in swiftly and scooped him up, Saving him for a second from those savage jaws; He held him over his head and called loud halloos Over the howling chorus of those ravening hounds. Hunters hastened there with blares of their horns, Sounding the recall until they reached their master. As this courtly company were all convening together, They blared on the bugles that they were bearing at once, While the hunters without any horns merely shouted halloos. It was the merriest melody that a man ever heard-- The riotous racket that was raised for Reynard's soul With royal notes! The men reward their hounds then; They fondle them and they dote; And then they take old Reynard And off they strip his coat. Then finally they hurried homeward, for the night was hovering, Blowing boisterously upon their blaring horns. At last the lord leaped down at his much-loved home, Finding flames in the fireplace inside, his guest beside it, Gawain the good, who was glad-hearted in every way, Enjoying the entertainment of the elegant ladies!
As New Year's Day is drawing near, Gawain takes his leave of his host and, wrapped in the Green Girdle ("Whoever is girded by this green-colored sash / And wears it tightly wrapped around his waist, / No creature under the heavens may cut him down, / And he can't be killed by any earthy cunning."), given to him by his host's wife, sets off for the Green Chapel, mounted on his horse Gringolet. The Green Knight harasses an impatient Gawain with two taunting, mock blows, and then finally only nicks the skin on back of his neck. Gawain jumps up and defensively declares the game as finished ("I agreed to a single stroke; / The covenant said so / That we formed in Arthur's halls. / Now away, my friend! Yes, go!") This is the climax of the story....
The regal one relaxed, resting upon his ax-blade, Leaning upon the sharp part, with the haft set in the soil, And studying the man who was standing there before him. He observed how the stalwart one stood there unshivering, Armed and unawed, and he found it very admirable. Then he spoke sympathetically in a rather stentorian voice, Addressing that aristocrat with far-echoing words: "Don't frown so fiercely, my fellow, here on this field. No man misbehaved here or was unmannerly toward you. I just carried out the clauses we set at the king's court. I promised a stroke, which you got; consider yourself paid. I release you now from all of the ret of my rights. If I'd been busier, I could have given you a buffet That was far more aggressive and made you more angry! My first blow was simply a feint that I made for fun And caused you no deep cut; I simply carried out That agreement that we arranged that original evening. You have truly and trustily maintained your troth, Giving me all that you gained, like a very good man. The second feint, my friend, I fashioned for the morning When you kissed my charming wife-- but counted back those kisses. Without any mishap. One true man is true to another And needs never fear any trap. But you failed at my third testing And therefore took my tap. "It's all because of my beautiful girdle you're bearing, Which my own wife formed-- I know this for a fact; For I'm conscious of your kisses and other conduct, Playing games with my spouse. I was the planner myself. I sent her to tempt you, and truly I've come to think You're one of the finest fellows to set foot on the earth: A pearl more precious than any simple white pea Is our Sir Gawain, by God, next to other gallants. But you have a small flaw, my friend: you lack some faithfulness. It didn't arise for an artful object or amorous fling-- No! You just loved your life! And I blame you the less for it!" The other stern knight stood there studiously for a while, Shuddering inside himself with a shameful rage. The blood in his body blushed upward into his cheeks, And he shrank back shamefaced at what was being shown. The first words then that the fair-haired knight let fly Were "Curses on cowardice and a covetous heart! For in that way villainy and vice destroy all virtue." Then he grasped at his girdle and roughly grabbed it free, Flinging it frantically over to that foe himself: "There! That's for falsehood! May it meet a foul fate! I cringed at your cuts, and my cowardice induced me To make an accord with avarice, abandoning my nature, Which always leaned toward loyalty and knightly largess. Now I'm false and flawed, I who always was fearful Of treachery and lack of truth; may sorrow overtake them, As well as care. I confess to you, my dear knight, The wrongs I committed there, But let me regain your good will, And from now on, I'll beware." The other party laughed, proclaiming politely, "Any wrong that you wreaked I now consider repaid. You've confessed very freely, acknowledging your flaws, And you've performed your penance at the point of my sword. I consider you cleansed of your sins, as immaculate As if you'd never fallen since your very first day; And I give you, kind sir, this golden-hemmed girdle Which is as green as my gown, Gawain, so that you may Meditate on this meeting whenever you move Among rulers of renown- this is a fine remembrance Of our affair at this abbey for other adventurous knights. But come again in this New Year, come back to my castle, Where for the rest of this rich holiday you can revel In a glorious show." The lord invited him thus, Saying, "My wife, I know, Will welcome you most warmly, Though she was your bitter foe."
Here at last we see that both Bercilak and his wife were adept Hunters of Men, in this case, Gawain-- the prey who finds his self behind the ruse of knightly garb and courtly manner.
-- Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. J.R.R. Tolkien, E.V. Gordon, ed, trans. Quoted in The Romance of Arthur: an Anthology of Medieval Texts in Translation.. Ed. James J. Wilhelm. New, expanded edition. Garland Reference Library of the Humanities; vol. 1267. (New York : Garland Publishing, 1994). pp399-466.