“An it please you, my lord,” Sir Gawain said, “I fain would ride with you.”
“Not so, fair nephew,” the king made reply; “I need no company.”
“Since such your wish,” said Gawain, “have your will.”
Arthur called quickly for his shield and lance, and spurred right eagerly towards the spot whence came the plaintive voice. As he drew near, the cries the sharper grew. The king pricked on with greater speed, and stopped before a stream by which a mill was placed. Just at the door he saw a woman stand, who wept, and screamed, and wrung her trembling hands, while she her tresses tore in deep despair. The good king, moved to pity, asked her why she grieved.
“My lord,” she weepingly replied, “oh! help me, in God's name! a dreadful beast, come down from yonder mount, is there within devouring all my corn!”
Arthur approached, and saw the savage beast, which truly was most frightful to behold.
Larger than largest bull, it had a coat of long and russet fur, a whitish neck and head, which bristled with a pile of horns. Its eyes were large and round, its teeth of monstrous size; its jaws were shapeless, legs of massive build; its feet were broad and square. A giant elk were not of greater bulk. Arthur observed it for a certain time with wonder in his mind; crossing himself, he then got off his horse, drew forth his sword, and, covered with his shield, went straight into the mill. The beast, however, far from being scared, did not so much as even raise its head, but from the hopper still devoured the corn. Seeing it motionless, the king believed the beast was lack of spirit, and, to excite it, struck it on the back: but still the creature moved not. He then advanced, and standing right in front, lunged at the beast as though to run it through. It did not even seem to note the act. Arthur then cautiously laid down his shield, replaced his sword, and, being stout and strong, he seized it by the horns, and shook it with great force; natheless he could not make it leave the grain. In rage, he was about to raise his fist, so as to deal it on the head a blow; but lo! he could not then remove his hands,—they were as riveted unto its horns.
Soon as the beast perceived its foe was caught, it raised its head; and issued from the mill, bearing, pendant from its horns, the king, aghast, distracted, and yet wild with rage. It then regained the wood at easy pace; when Gawain, who, by good fortune, happed to ride before his Mends, beheld it thus his uncle carrying off,—a sight which half-deprived him of his wits.
“Knights!” he exclaimed aloud, “hie hither! help to our good lord! and may the laggard never sit at his Round Table more! We should indeed deserve dishonoured names were the king lost for want of timely aid.” As thus he spoke, he flew towards the beast, not waiting for the rest, and couched his lance as though to strike at it.
But the king, fearing harm would come to him, addressed him thus: