The Adventures of Sir Gawain the True (6 page)

"Amazing," replied Sir Gologras. "We must train together after this."

"Unless one of us is dead."

The two knights circled in silence for a moment.

"Yes," Sir Gologras said at last. "Unless one of us is dead."

They closed again and fought fiercely and brilliantly for several minutes. They each landed several blows on each other, but only on the places that were best protected by their armor. Then they broke apart to circle again.

"I thought you had me there for a moment," said Sir Gologras as soon as he had his breath. "When

I slipped just then, I left quite an opening at my neck. I'm surprised you didn't cut off my head."

"I ... ah ... I thought it might be a trap," Sir Gawain said. "And what about you? When I lunged forward and you stepped aside, you could have brought your sword right down on my back, where my armor's weakest."

Sir Gologras said nothing for a long moment. At last he murmured, "I ... thought it might be a trap?"

They circled some more.

"This is going to go on for a long time, isn't it?" asked Sir Gawain.

Sir Gologras nodded. "And yet it can't end until one of us wins. When it's over, one of us will no longer be unvanquished."

"Does that really matter so much?" asked Sir Gawain.

"That, my friend, is a very good question," replied Sir Gologras slowly. "Ready to go again?"

"Ready," said Sir Gawain.

They charged again, and once more the swords flickered and swung and clanged and thudded. The watchers in the field and on the castle walls could scarcely see the blades, so swiftly did they move, but the knights themselves always seemed able to block each thrust or slash. Then Sir Gawain got his chance. Sir Gologras swung a mighty blow, which Sir Gawain parried, but the force of the two swords striking was such that Sir Gawain's right hand went numb. Realizing that Sir Gologras's sword hand might also be numb, Sir Gawain quickly switched his blade to his left hand and brought the hilt down on Sir Gologras's hand. It worked. Already numb, Sir Gologras lost his grip on his sword. Sir Gawain stepped on it, then laid the edge of his own blade on Sir Gologras's neck.

"Yield, Sir Gologras," he said.

Slowly, Sir Gologras sank to his knees and removed his helmet. "I can't yield," he said.

"What?"

"If I yield, then I'll have to swear loyalty to the king, and I've promised not to do that."

"Then what do we do?"

"You won, Sir Gawain. You'll have to kill me now."

"I don't
want
to."

"Nevertheless, you have to. Go on. Cut off my head."

"Blister it! Why do people keep asking me to cut off their heads?" exclaimed Sir Gawain, furiously. "I don't
like
cutting off heads!"

"Well, I don't see what else we can do."

Sir Gawain glared at his stubborn friend for a long moment. Then he said, "Unless this is one of your traps."

"Eh?"

"You could be kneeling in order to take advantage of me. You know that my right hand is numb and probably can't hold my sword very tightly."

"You're holding your sword in your left hand," Sir Gologras pointed out.

Sir Gawain shifted his sword back to his right hand. "As I was
saying,
" he continued, "you could be planning to knock my own sword out of my hand, then shove me back off your sword and get the advantage."

"Seems like a pretty stupid trap to me," said Sir Gologras.

"That's what makes it such a good plan. No one would suspect it. You'd take me completely by surprise."

"Would I?"

"Yes."

With one hand, Sir Gologras knocked Sir Gawain's sword from his grasp. With the other he pushed Sir Gawain a step backwards. Grasping his own sword, Sir Gologras rose to his feet and laid the blade on Sir Gawain's neck. "Yield, Sir Gawain."

"I do yield," replied Sir Gawain. "Gladly."

A minute later, both knights stood before King Arthur, who looked grim. "You have won, Sir Gologras," he said. "And I will keep my word and leave you alone now. You may refuse to swear an oath of allegiance, whatever the consequences to the kingdom may be."

Sir Gologras shook his head. "I may have won, but Sir Gawain has proven himself the better man. Sire, I am not able to swear a solemn oath of loyalty to you. To do so would mean breaking an earlier promise. But would you accept my word as a friend?"

"Am I your friend?" asked the king mildly.

"Not yet, but my friend Gawain vouches for you, so I'd like to be. And I don't take up arms against friends. I've done it once now, and I've decided not to do it again."

King Arthur considered this. "That isn't a solemn vow, though. Is it?"

"No, it isn't. It's just what I say. But you may trust it."

The king smiled. "All right. That's good enough for me. In the end, I'd rather have the word of a friend any day."

Slowly, all the knights began to realize that the whole matter had been resolved, without any bloodshed or any broken promises, and all rejoiced. Sir Gawain grinned happily at Sir Gologras. "Well, you certainly took me by surprise, friend."

"Not half so much as you've surprised me," replied Sir Gologras.

The king's party stayed several more days at Sir Gologras's castle, enjoying themselves very much. Sir Gandefere and Sir Goliot became fast friends, and after big meals were often to be found side by side on adjacent armchairs, sharing a nap. (Sir Reynold and Sir Regal never did really hit it off, though.) At the end of a week, the royal caravan set out for Camelot. As Sir Gawain took his leave of Sir Gologras, his friend smiled broadly and said, "Do not say goodbye. We are friends now. I look forward to many years of good times together. I'm sure I shall see you again soon."

Sir Gawain smiled automatically, but said nothing. He had not told Sir Gologras about the Green Knight and the beheading trial that he was to face on New Year's Day. He didn't want to distress his friend. Sir Gologras pointed them in the right direction, and the knights of the Round Table set off for home.

They had gone hardly a mile when a new rider approached the cavalcade, and Sir Gawain was pleased to recognize Spinagras the dwarf. "Well, where in the world have you been, Spinagras?" he called out. "I haven't seen you since the day of the useless tournament."

"I had some business to take care of back home—I told you I was a steward, didn't I? Yes, I

thought I had. And besides, I thought you'd be killed and didn't want to see it. But here you are, alive and well. Did you really beat the great Sir Gologras?"

"Oh, no," Sir Gawain replied. "I was defeated, but he spared my life. Then he and Arthur made friends, which is better than making promises, so everything worked out in the end. Why have you come back now?"

"I thought that King Arthur might need a guide to Camelot."

"How did you know we were leaving today?" Sir Gawain asked, curiously.

"Lucky guess, I suppose," Spinagras replied airily. "So do you know how to get where you're going?"

"Sir Gologras pointed us southwest."

"Hmm," said the dwarf. "That's right, but you'll still need someone to show you the best places to cross rivers and all that. I'd better ride along."

"That's kind of you," Sir Gawain murmured.

"Not at all," Spinagras said. "I enjoy showing people the way to go. It's what I do best."

Sir Gawain thought about this for a moment. "So you must know England pretty well."

"Better than any map," Spinagras said promptly.

"I don't suppose you know a place called the Green Chapel, do you?"

Now it was Spinagras's turn to be silent, but after a moment he said, "Yes, I know it. Why do you ask?"

"I need to go there in a year on New Year's Day," Sir Gawain replied.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Spinagras said bluntly. "It's an eerie place, not pleasant at all. I could show you a lovely beach near Brighton, if you like."

"All the same, I have to go there. I took a vow."

"See what comes of all this vow-making business," Spinagras muttered under his breath. Sir Gawain looked at him curiously, but Spinagras only said, "Yes, I'll take you there. I won't go to it myself, mind you, but I'll take you near enough that you can't miss it."

Spinagras led the king and his knights to Camelot, then disappeared again, and for the ensuing months, life went on very much as normal in the court. The only thing, really, that disturbed the pleasant Camelot routine over the next year was the fact that every now and then people would remember that when winter came Sir Gawain would be riding away to die. The court still held the usual balls and banquets, but Sir Gawain stopped attending them, because he could see that his presence put a damper on the festivities. Sir Gawain began taking long rides, just to get away, and twice tried to go visit Sir Gologras, but without Spinagras to show him the way, he never could find his friend's castle, and no matter where he looked or who he asked, no one else seemed to know where to find it.

On Christmas Eve, when Sir Gawain had just eight days to live (he tried not to keep count, but it was impossible not to), the castle gates opened to admit a visitor, and Spinagras the dwarf rode into the central court. Sir Gawain was almost relieved to see his guide, even if he
was
coming to guide him to the Green Knight. Things had gotten very bad at court. For weeks now, ladies had been bursting into tears at the mere sight of him, which was very distressing. Sir Gawain never had figured out what to do with a weeping lady.

Sir Gawain said his goodbyes that evening, and the next morning he and Spinagras left before dawn. As soon as they were past the castle gates, Sir Gawain asked the dwarf, "I say, Spinagras, will this journey take all week? Because I'd really love to stop by and see Gologras on the way."

Spinagras looked at Sir Gawain for a long moment. His eyes were hard to read, though Sir Gawain thought he saw sympathy in them. But he only said, "Sorry. The road to the Green Chapel is hard going. If we don't go straight there, we'll never make it by New Year's."

Sir Gawain sighed. "Then will you take Gologras a message from me? Tell him I really wish we'd had more time together."

"You sound as if you'll never see him again," the dwarf said.

"I won't," Sir Gawain replied. He didn't try to explain, and Spinagras didn't ask.

Spinagras had been right about the difficulty of the road. They climbed over harsh crags and rode across frozen, windswept moors. They pushed heavily through dense forests, crept delicately across treacherous frozen lakes and marshes, and ploughed shoulder-deep through thick snowdrifts. At last, two days before the new year, as they made camp in a little hollow out of the wind, Spinagras said, "We're almost there, Sir Gawain. Tomorrow morning, if you ride to the top of that hill over there, you'll see the castle of Sir Bredbaddle the Huntsman. He can take you the rest of the way."

"Where will you be?" asked Sir Gawain.

"I told you last winter. I won't go to the Green Chapel myself. It's not a healthy place. But don't worry. Sir Bredbaddle may not be the cleverest fellow in creation, but he can get you where you need to go."