"That is just because women are so light," Gawain rejoined, laughing.
Then he rode up to the castle gate, and blew the bugle so musically that all the hidden echoes in the walls rang out.
"Away with you!" cried Ettarre's maidens, running up to the tower window. "Our lady doesn't love you."
"I'm Gawain from Arthur's court," cried Gawain, lifting his vizor so that they could see his face. "I've killed Pelleas whom you hate so. Open the gates and I'll make you merry with my story."
The ladies ran down crying out to Ettarre, "Pelleas is dead! Sir Gawain of Arthur's court has killed him and is blowing the bugle to come in to tell us."
"Let him in," said Ettarre.
Then they opened the gates and Gawain rode inside.
For three days Pelleas wandered all about, doing nothing but thinking of Gawain and Ettarre, and on the third night, when Gawain did not come, he wondered why Gawain lingered with his golden news. At last he rode up to Ettarre's castle, tied his horse outside and walked in through the wide open gates. The court he found all dark and empty, not a light glimmering from anywhere, so he passed out by the back gate, into the large gardens beyond of red and white roses, where he saw three pavilions. In one he found the three knights with their squires, all red with revelling, and all asleep, in the second he saw the girls with their scornful smiles frozen stiff in slumber, and in the third lay Gawain with Ettarre, the golden crown he had won for her at the joust on her forehead, both sleeping.
Pelleas drew back as if he had touched a snake.
"I'll kill them just as they lie," he cried in a passion. "O! to think that any knight could be so false!"