Notes: The following is my loose retelling of the 14th century alliterative Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, the narrative of which was reworked by me under the influence of J.R.R. Tolkien, Lord Dunsany, and G.R.R. Martin in order to make it coherent with another medieval poem of the Gawain cycle, The Marriage of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle, so to fictitiously restore what scholars J.R. Hulbert and Jessie Weston reconstructed to have been the original Gawain narrative, i.e. a Fairy Mistress story.
The journey of Sir Gawain is largely a product of my own invention, although many of the incidents occurring are based on the idea to expand the short narrative proposed in the Second Fitt of the 14th century poem, collocating it in a fictitious reconstruction of a possible medieval retelling of the original legend, still retaining a closer picture of what we may hypothesize to have been Post-Roman Britain in the fifth century. All roads, ways, and streets cited by name are (were) real, and all place-names are actual, or possible, modernized versions of original Welsh forms of real place-names, although the Modern English equivalent is not always given, nor is (even when extant and known) the Roman.
* * *
Despite the knight’s desire to leave for Gogledd Cymru the next day at dawn, Sir Gawain’s leavetaking from Lord Erles and the rest of the court was delayed by the arrival of the representatives of a huge crowd of escapees, fleeing from the town of Ergyng, capital of the vassal Kingdom by the same name, about fifteen miles northwest of Caer Cleu. Ergyng had been laid waste by the infamous wyrm Gawain had already heard of, the vile Chreibadsysg, killing the King and his retinue of brave knights in the fight. Now, the delegates could not ask for anyone better than the renowned Knight of the Round Table to undertake the enterprise to vanquish “the hellish nightmare”, as they called it. When Gawain said he might well accept the task, but he would not be back to Caer Cleu for celebrations for quite a while, the Steward of the Kingdom, a white-haired old man called Yswig, even offered immediate compensation in the only form they could afford, a magical necklace which reportedly allowed nightvision and constituted the only remnant of the treasure of Ergyng that they had managed to save from the beast. Gawain replied by unsheathing the glowing Galatine and proudly declaring: “But truly I do not have to fear the dark already!” All the bystanders, including Lord Erles, were very impressed, for the dark hall, only half lit through a few, tall windows, had been fully illuminated by Gawain’s sword. Nonetheless, he immediately put it back into its sheath and added: “I will kill your wyrm, be assured of this, but I ask for no reward. Just do not await my return before a long while, certainly not before the New Year.” And, after these words, they finally let him leave the court and the city.
Sir Gawain passed through the West Gate of Caer Cleu and took the nameless road leading him westward through Din Forest, until it crossed the Din Road on the hills north of the town of Mihangel Din, whence both the forest and the road took their name, meaning ‘fortress’, which has remained until our days in the anglicized form Dean. The dedication of the town-fortress to Mihangel was, of course, meant for the Archangel Michael, under whose auspices Gawain had left Camelot, so he took a little deviation south to stop by the local church and pay his homage. It was upon his return from Mihangel Din to the crossing that Gawain met the Red and Blue Knights. Interrupted by his arrival in the middle of some dispute, after exchanging courteous salutations, they informed him that eventually, after fasting for two weeks and praying for a solution to their disagreements, the bishop they had met at Mihangel Din had settled their quarrel by blessing them together at the same time. Nonetheless, now that they had finally been able to leave, they could not decide whether their shared blessing required that they shared their journey, or their ways could part, since the Red Knight had heard that the Pearl of Wisdom had been stolen by Moelwyn Llir the outlaw, who lived in Wyrral in the north, whereas the Blue Knight instead had been told that the Pearl had been claimed by the giant Cawrdaf ap Clydan, who ruled the fortress of Celynnan, in the far south. Gawain warned them of the presence of the wyrm Chreibadsysg in Ergyng, but he had to witness how the information did not help them at all in taking a decision, because they both argued, on one hand, that having to face the beast would steal time from their main quest, while, on the other, avoiding the wyrm would be called cowardice. So, when he realized the two Knights were again so focused on their dispute they had forgotten about Gawain’s presence, he shrugged and took the Din Road northward, vaguely amused by the bizarre encounter.
The road went straight down, then up into what were now the ruins of Ergyng, but Gawain got off his horse Gringolet, as the latter trotted into the waste city, and he ran aside, hiding in a long, deep cleft in the ground, his sword in hand. Predictably, his stallion would ride in circles around the cleft, looking for him, as the plates of his harness loudly clanged and lured Chreibadsysg his way, who could kill it by stabbing from below. However, as Gawain heard the wyrm approaching, the claws of its legs scraping the ground in a rushed, serpentine fury, he wondered whether the wyrm might be so smart to realize his plans, and that thought saved his life. In fact, Chreibadsysg did not even stop before the cleft to check whether somebody was there, but immediately launched its ugly, birdlike beak into the pit, only missing Gawain by an inch! That little measure was enough to decide the match, though, as Gawain now had the monster’s head in the range of his sword, and, by the strength of no less than three, well-aimed blows in a swift succession, beheaded it without compliments. Too bad that the head was too large to be added to those already hanging from Gringolet’s back, but at least he could take three or four teeth.
It was a huge head, three feet tall, three feet wide, three feet long, but what was even more appalling was the rest of the body of Chreibadsysg: a thirty-feet long, six-legged, winding succession of brown-yellowish scales, from neck to tail. Gawain retrieved Gringolet and made camp in the ruins of Ergyng, lighting a fire to warm up his bruised body. He spent the next two days there, too, washing himself in the nearby river Gwy, tending to his bruises with the miracle ointment he had been given by Hylias before leaving Camelot, and getting the rest he deserved after his heroic feat. Wild beasts and monsters had started avoiding him, because even they feared the slayer of the wyrm, so he was utterly undisturbed.
On the third day, Gawain resumed his journey by following upwards the winding course of river Gwy, and he had a lot of fun hunting boars along the way, into the wilderness. Their tusks added another figure to his collection of trophies. On the fifth day after the killing of Chreibadsysg, which was the 26th of November, Gawain reached the town of Henffordd, whose Lord Cedrych could not host him as he was away hunting. While Gawain was taking some respite at the Sleepy Lion’s tavern, he was offered a herd of cows in exchange for a wyrm’s tooth. As Gawain kindly declined, the offer was raised time and time again until it reached two herds of cows, a herd of sheep, a hen, three cocks and a filly, when he realized that only after he left the tavern they would be assured he truly had no bargain in mind at all. Gawain spent the night at the Lazy Lass’s, but he had a bad surprise as he checked his stuff after he got up: the Mirror of Saerin was missing! After spending the whole morning in his enquiries, Gawain ascertained his precious had been stolen by a girl named Treiri, who apparently was a witch, and had been seen fleeing on her mare westward on the Old Road to Maen, the Roman Magnis. Gawain launched himself on her trail, but she had considerable advantage, and even by galloping into Maen, as he came there she was already gone, reportedly southward on Watling Street. Before he could find her, Treiri had already reached the village of Byrn Bugeilio, on river Wysg.
As Gawain broke into her house, Galatine in both hands, Treiri turned into a crow and flew out the window, leaving the knight to face an old man with a very long beard and a staff. The man pronounced a few incomprehensible words and Galatine left Gawain’s hand to start hovering in the air, attacking his former wielder. Gawain could not reach the old man because the sword protected him, but at least he could retrieve the mirror. Being the challenge beyond his powers, before he might get killed, he used his shield to protect himself while his other hand rubbed the glass, then he blinked thrice and said: “Hilly-silly-billy-gangandharbulus!”
Being caught in his usual amazement at his beloved’s beauty, the vision of Faebrielle caused Gawain so much wonder that for a moment he forgot to defend himself, and his former sword pierced his right elbow. Anyway, the same wonder made him numb to pain, therefore he managed to keep staring at the mirror as he used the shield in his left hand to cast the sword back away, while Faebrielle said: “My love, I hate to see you suffer! Ask the question, please!”
Gawain was sad at thinking he might never thereafter see Faebrielle again, but on the other hand he might well die if he did not ask, so he did: “How do I get my sword back?”
Faebrielle did not even blink before replying: “The wizard’s name is Wyrfynd of Caer Cleu. Spell it backwards, then add: ‘Evaelululian caelandor’, and finally add your sword’s name and your own. Please keep in mind there is nothing wrong with the child. I love you, Sir Gawain, my dear. I will be waiting for you,” she said, then the light in the far west went out, and the whole glass turned black.
Gawain’s shield had been almost entirely splintered in repelling Galatine’s attacks, so he had to dodge the sword as he spoke: “Dnyfryw fo Reac Uelc. Evaelululian caelandor. Galatine Gawain.”
Immediately, the sword fell down, Gawain took it by the hilt before it reached the floor, and he pointed it at Wyrfynd’s throat, who gulped.
“Who bought your services, wizard?”
“Nobody,” he replied.
Gawain pressed his swordpoint against Wyrfynd’s throat, so that a few drops of blood fell on the latter’s tunic.
“Nobody bought me, I swear! That does not mean I was not blackmailed.”
“I’m listening”, Gawain pointed out.
“Treiri’s my apprentice and lover. The Black Knight kidnapped our infant son and threatened to kill him unless we lured you into an ambush and killed you. Now the three of us are all going to die!”
“Calm down, old man. And tell your crow lover she can stop watching from the window and come in.”
Wyrfynd made a gesture toward the window, then the crow came in and returned to the human shape of the young witch Treiri.
“Listen, both of you,” Gawain said, keeping Faebrielle’s words about the child in mind. “However evil the Black Knight might be, even he cannot break the laws of Elfland, and I know for sure that by those laws no harm can come to your child. So, please, return to Caer Cleu together, as they still wonder what happened to their wise wizard, and I promise you that, after I defeat the Black Knight, I will bring you back your child sound and safe.”
“Rhys. His name is Rhys. And thank you, good sir,” Treiri said, to which Wyrfynd added: “Yes. Thank you, Sir Gawain.”
The odd couple hosted Gawain for four nights, before his miracle ointment managed to heal his pierced elbow well enough to travel, and also Gringolet was glad of being able to rest after days spent galloping. By the time Gawain was back to Maen, it was December already, and when he was able to take Watling Street northward from Maen to Caer Urnarc through Breuan, it was even the eighth day of the month. Before reaching Breuan, Gawain was assaulted by a group of Wild Men of the Woods, and, in order to get well after that tiresome fight, he had to spend a couple more days in the town before leaving to Caer Urnarc, the capital of the vassal Kingdom of Powys, which nowadays we call Wroxeter. He arrived there on the fifteenth, after vanquishing the abominable ogres of the marshes. At this point, Gringolet was so burdened with his battle-trophies that he had to decide to keep only one head per type of creature. However, he kept all the wyrm’s fangs. King Angwyn blessed his arrival to Caer Urnarc and informed him that he had indeed heard of a place called the Green Chapel somewhere close to the Wyrral Peninsula, hearing which greatly relieved Gawain. However, the knight had to make it clear that he would necessarily leave the next day before sunrise, no questions asked, and no matter what. The King was slightly disappointed, but he had to accept.
That night, Gawain had a terrible nightmare. The scene was the same of the dream he had had before leaving Camelot, the dream that revealed him his future son, but now everything was wrong. To begin with, it looked like a memory, not the future, as Gawain was much younger than the present, being barely a teenager. As he held the newborn in his hands, then, he saw that the baby was black-haired, and this time Gawain did not wake up upon seeing him, but came closer to the bed where the mother lay. To Gawain’s horror, he saw she was not Faebrielle, but his own aunt Morgan! Besides, he realized how the younger version of himself was under her spell, because he bent over her and kissed her.
“Name him!” Morgan commanded, as she took the baby in her arms.
“Morfardd,” young Gawain declared.
“And Morfardd shall be. I will raise him to be a warrior as great as you, and, who knows, maybe even greater. But you will now leave and forget about his very existence, until the day comes when you will ask the Red Lion about the Green Man.”
Bewitched Gawain left the room, but Gawain the dreamer was forced to see Morgan over the years, raising their child in hate against his own father, until the day came when Morfardd came to Camelot in disguise as a Black Knight to claim his revenge against Gawain. When he woke up, horrified by his visions, Gawain left Caer Urnarc in the middle of the night and wandered upon uncertain pathways in the mist, losing track of time, his whereabouts, and any direction.
The mist seemed to envelope nature itself in the unearthly quality of his own, gloomy thoughts, and days seemed like years in that eerie setting. At some point he realized being sitting on the ground instead of the saddle, before a fire he did not recall having lit. He casually noticed being hurt on his hip, but he did not care, nor was he in any mood to tend to the many scratches he could see on Gringolet’s legs. Besides, Gawain thought, the miracle ointment was finished, just like his provisions after the foxes came… when did that happen? Two, three, or a hundred days earlier? For some reason, the notion amused him, and he laughed out loud, but his was a bitter, hysterical laughter, one that could not cheer him up at all. He was desperately anguished by the mere thought that his dream in Caer Urnarc was true, that he had to be the sworn enemy of his own son, and he even wondered for a second whether he should give up Faebrielle’s hand to Morfardd, but his very instincts warned him against that option. Besides his love for her, he had been given to think his alleged son’s rule over Elfland would corrupt that blessed realm. But there was so much in that whole plot he could not understand at all… For instance, what was the meaning of the Red Lion, the emblem on the coat of arms of Ergyng, in Morgan’s prophecy? Why even letting him know, and why just then? But, then again, did anything at all still make sense?
He was stranded in darkness in a sea of mist, seemingly out of space and time altogether, and might as well be dead already, for all he knew. He might never find the Green Knight, and who might say whether New Year’s Day had passed already? After leaving Caer Urnarc, his memories were all jumbled together with visions and dreams… He could not use the Mirror anymore to ask his love for the answers he needed, just now when those answers could change everything. But of course the fabled Elven treasure itself was only a piece of junk to him, after he had finished his allotted chances to consult it. Even his collection of battle trophies, still burdening Gringolet, now looked rather dull, however further enriched by bull-horns, more boar-tusks, a couple of deer-antlers, and the fangs of two smaller wyrms. As he tried recalling the fight with the wyrms, which most likely was when he and Gringolet had gotten their bruises and wounds, Gawain instead reminded, or thought of reminding, having met once more the Red and Blue Knight at some point, this time quarreling about who between them should have had the honour to behead the other first. The queer thing was that each of them claimed the honour should belong to the other, who could not accept such a privilege, and wished to lose his own head instead. Gawain imagined how he might have told them not to fight over dying first, but over the honour to win back the Pearl of Wisdom from him, who had retrieved it after vanquishing the whole band of outlaws of Moelwyn Llir. Had that truly happened? Gawain wondered, but he fell asleep over the thought, dreaming weird visions of knights of all colours fighting over the right to rule all butterflies and other nonsensical pretenses.
As Gawain awoke from his slumber, he was covered in snow and shivering. The sun had come up, dissipating all the mist, but everything looked the same around him: a whitened, silent forest of sparse trees in all directions. Thanks to the foxes, he could not even have breakfast, so he mounted Gringolet without great enthusiasm (a feeling shared by his steed, who snorted), and resumed his search for the Green Chapel. He did not even know where to start from, since he had lost his way, and might even be looking in the same place where he had already been to, but he kept searching. Hours passed, and nothing changed, as he could not even detect the movement of a squirrel. Everything was still, silent, empty. Was he still dreaming? What if the whole matter, Black Knight, Green Knight, Elven Princess, and all, was just a long, unending dream he could not awaken from? What if he just had to find a way to wake up? Being distracted by such thoughts, he was convinced of the reality of his experience when he got a low branch of a nearby tree in his face, thereby being unhorsed and falling into the snow. As he got up, his sense of despair reached its climax when he saw that his horse was walking over his own hoofprints. The sun was rapidly descending into the West, and somehow Gawain retrieved his sense of time by realizing within his devout soul it was Christmas Eve.
Gawain mounted Gringolet once more and recited all the prayers he knew, especially interweaving a full Rosary to Our Lady with the Invocation to Saint Julian, Protector of the travelers, to find a good hostel for him and Gringolet to spend the night, be fed, recover, and be able to attend the Christmas Mass. Even as he prayed so, lo! In the far distance he heard a bell, and sighted smoke from chimneys. As he rode that way, he saw a majestic castle of great splendour rising in the middle of the forest, so he came to its gates, halting before the drawbridge, although it was not raised. A porter immediately appeared on the walls, asking who the traveler was, and, upon learning he was Sir Gawain of Camelot, apologized even for asking and, after opening the heavy gates, ceremoniously invited the knight to come in, welcoming him as the most important of guests and politely asking him to be followed before Lord Berleddisg, who apparently was eagerly waiting for him.