Hero-Myths & Legends of the British Race

by M. I. Ebbutt

King Arthur’s Return

On the second day of the new year King Arthur came home to Carlisle. Wearily he rode along and dismounted at the castle, and wearily he went into his hall, where sat Queen Guenever. She had been very anxious during her husband’s absence, for she dreaded magic arts, but she greeted him gladly and said: “Welcome, my dear lord and king, welcome home again! What anxiety I have endured for you! But now you are here all is well. What news do you bring, my liege? Is the churlish knight conquered? Where have you had him hanged, and where is his head? Placed on a spike above some town-gate? Tell me your tidings, and we will rejoice together.” King Arthur only sighed heavily as he replied: “Alas! I have boasted too much; the churlish knight was a giant who has conquered me, and set me free on conditions.” “My lord, tell me how this has chanced.” “His castle is an enchanted one, standing on enchanted ground, and surrounded with a circle of magic spells which sap the bravery from a warrior’s mind and the strength from his arm. When I came on his land and felt the power of his mighty charms, I was unable to resist him, but fell into his power, and had to yield myself to him. He released me on condition that I would fulfil one thing which he bade me accomplish, and this I was enabled to do by the help of a loathly lady; but that help was dearly bought, and I cannot pay the price myself.”

Sir Gawayne’s Devotion

By this time Sir Gawayne, the king’s favourite nephew, had entered the hall, and greeted his uncle warmly; then, with a few rapid questions, he learnt the king’s news, and saw that he was in some distress. “What have you paid the loathly lady for her secret, uncle?” he asked. “Alas! I have paid her nothing; but I promised to grant her any boon she asked, and she has asked a thing impossible.” “What is it?” asked Sir Gawayne. “Since you have promised it, the promise must needs be kept. Can I help you to perform your vow?” “Yes, you can, fair nephew Gawayne, but I will never ask you to do a thing so terrible,” said King Arthur. “I am ready to do it, uncle, were it to wed the loathly lady herself.” “That is what she asks, that a fair young knight should marry her. But she is too hideous and deformed; no man could make her his wife.” “If that is all your grief,” replied Sir Gawayne, “things shall soon be settled; I will wed this ill-favoured dame, and will be your ransom.” “You know not what you offer,” answered the king. “I never saw so deformed a being. Her speech is well enough, but her face is terrible, with crooked nose and chin, and she has only one eye.” “She must be an ill-favoured maiden; but I heed it not,” said Sir Gawayne gallantly, “so that I can save you from trouble and care.” “Thanks, dear Gawayne, thanks a thousand times! Now through your devotion I can keep my word. To-morrow we must fetch your bride from her lonely lodging in the greenwood; but we will feign some pretext for the journey. I will summon a hunting party, with horse and hound and gallant riders, and none shall know that we go to bring home so ugly a bride.” “Gramercy, uncle,” said Sir Gawayne. “Till to-morrow I am a free man.”

The Hunting Party

The next day King Arthur summoned all the court to go hunting in the greenwood close to Tarn Wathelan; but he did not lead the chase near the castle: the remembrance of his defeat and shame was too strong for him to wish to see the place again. They roused a noble stag and chased him far into the forest, where they lost him amid close thickets of holly and yew interspersed with oak copses and hazel bushes—bare were the hazels, and brown and withered the clinging oak leaves, but the holly looked cheery, with its fresh green leaves and scarlet berries. Though the chase had been fruitless, the train of knights laughed and talked gaily as they rode back through the forest, and the gayest of all was Sir Gawayne; he rode wildly down the forest drives, so recklessly that he drew level with Sir Kay, the churlish steward, who always preferred to ride alone. Sir Lancelot, Sir Stephen, Sir Banier, and Sir Bors all looked wonderingly at the reckless youth; but his younger brother, Gareth, was troubled, for he knew all was not well with Gawayne, and Sir Tristram, buried in his love for Isolde, noticed nothing, but rode heedlessly wrapped in sad musings.

Sir Kay and the Loathly Lady

Suddenly Sir Kay reined up his steed, amazed; his eye had caught the gleam of scarlet under the trees, and as he looked he became aware of a woman, clad in a dress of finest scarlet, sitting between a holly-tree and an oak. “Good greeting to you, Sir Kay,” said the lady, but the steward was too much amazed to answer. Such a face as that of the lady he had never even imagined, and he took no notice of her salutation. By this time the rest of the knights had joined him, and they all halted, looking in astonishment on the misshapen face of the poor creature before them. It seemed terrible that a woman’s figure should be surmounted by such hideous features, and most of the knights were silent for pity’s sake; but the steward soon recovered from his amazement, and his rude nature began to show itself. The king had not yet appeared, and Sir Kay began to jeer aloud. “Now which of you would fain woo yon fair lady?” he asked. “It takes a brave man, for methinks he will stand in fear of any kiss he may get, it must needs be such an awesome thing. But yet I know not; any man who would kiss this beauteous damsel may well miss the way to her mouth, and his fate is not quite so dreadful after all. Come, who will win a lovely bride!” Just then King Arthur rode up, and at sight of him Sir Kay was silent; but the loathly lady hid her face in her hands, and wept that he should pour such scorn upon her.

The Betrothal

Sir Gawayne was touched with compassion for this uncomely woman alone among these gallant and handsome knights, a woman so helpless and ill-favoured, and he said: “Peace, churl Kay, the lady cannot help herself; and you are not so noble and courteous that you have the right to jeer at any maiden; such deeds do not become a knight of Arthur’s Round Table. Besides, one of us knights here must wed this unfortunate lady.” “Wed her?” shouted Kay. “Gawayne, you are mad!” “It is true, is it not, my liege?” asked Sir Gawayne, turning to the king; and Arthur reluctantly gave token of assent, saying, “I promised her not long since, for the help she gave me in a great distress, that I would grant her any boon she craved, and she asked for a young and noble knight to be her husband. My royal word is given, and I will keep it; therefore have I brought you here to meet her.” Sir Kay burst out with, “What? Ask me perchance to wed this foul quean? I’ll none of her. Where’er I get my wife from, were it from the fiend himself, this hideous hag shall never be mine.” “Peace, Sir Kay,” sternly said the king; “you shall not abuse this poor lady as well as refuse her. Mend your speech, or you shall be knight of mine no longer.” Then he turned to the others and said: “Who will wed this lady and help me to keep my royal pledge? You must not all refuse, for my promise is given, and for a little ugliness and deformity you shall not make me break my plighted word of honour.” As he spoke he watched them keenly, to see who would prove sufficiently devoted, but the knights all began to excuse themselves and to depart. They called their hounds, spurred their steeds, and pretended to search for the track of the lost stag again; but before they went Sir Gawayne cried aloud: “Friends, cease your strife and debate, for I will wed this lady myself. Lady, will you have me for your husband?” Thus saying, he dismounted and knelt before her.