The knight of the castle challenges King Arthur to an adventure.
Then, of a sudden, the knight said to King Arthur, “Messire, thou art young and lusty of spirit and I doubt not but thou hath a great heart within thee. What say you now to a little sport betwixt us two?” Upon this King Arthur regarded that knight very steadily and he believed that his face was not so old as it looked; for his eyes were exceedingly bright and shone like sparks of light; wherefore he was a-doubt and he said, “Sir, what sport would you have?” Upon this the knight fell a-laughing ingreat measure and he said, “This is a very strange sport that I have in mind, for it is this: That thou and I shall prove the one unto the other what courage each of us may have.” And King Arthur said, “How shall we prove that?” Whereunto the knight made reply, “This is what we shall do: Thou and I shall stand forth in the middle of this hall, and thou shalt have leave to try to strike off my head; and if I can receive that blow without dying therefrom, then I shall have leave to strike thy head off in a like manner.”
Upon this speech King Arthur was greatly a-dread and he said, “That is very strange sport for two men to engage upon.”
Now when King Arthur said this, all those who were in the hall burst out laughing beyond all measure and as though they would never stint from their mirth. Then, when they had become in a measure quiet again, the knight of that castle said, “Sir, art thou afraid of that sport?” Upon which King Arthur fell very angry and he said, “Nay, I am not afeared, for no man hath ever yet had reason to say that I showed myself afeared of anyone.” “Very well,” said the knight of the castle; “then let us try that sport of which I spake.” And King Arthur said, “I am willing.”
Then Boisenard came to King Arthur where he was, and he said, “Lord, do not thou enter into this thing, but rather let me undertake this venture in thy stead, for I am assured that some great treachery is meditated against thee.” But King Arthur said, “Nay; no man shall take my danger upon himself, but I will assume mine own danger without calling upon any man to take it.” So he said to the knight of the castle, “Sir, I am ready for that sport of which thou didst speak, but who is to strike that first blow and how shall we draw lots therefor?” “Messire,” said the knight of the castle, “there shall be no lots drawn. For, as thou art the guest of this place, so shall thou have first assay at that sport.”
Therewith that knight arose and laid aside his black robe, and he was clad beneath in a shirt of fine linen very cunningly worked. And he wore hosen of crimson. Then he opened that linen undergarment at the throat and he turned down the collar thereof so as to lay his neck bare to the blow. Thereupon he said, “Now, Sir Knight, thou shalt have to strike well if thou wouldst win at this sport.”
King Arthur cuts off the head of the knight of the castle.
But King Arthur showed no dread of that undertaking, for he arose and drew Excalibur so that the blade of the sword flashed with exceeding brightness. Then he measured his distance, and lifted the sword, and he smote the knight of the castle with all his might upon the neck. And, lo! the blade cutthrough the neck of the knight of the castle with wonderful ease, so that the head flew from the body to a great distance away.
But the trunk of the body of that knight did not fall, but instead of that it stood, and it walked to where the head lay, and the hands of the trunk picked up the head and they set the head back upon the body and, lo! that knight was as sound and whole as ever he had been in all his life.
Upon this all those of the castle shouted and made great mirth, and they called upon King Arthur that it was now his turn to try that sport. So the King prepared himself, laying aside his surcoat and opening his undergarment at the throat, as the knight of the castle had done. And at that Boisenard made great lamentation. Then the knight of the castle said, “Sir, art thou afeared?” And King Arthur said, “No, I am not afeared, for every man must come to his death some time, and it appears that my time hath now come, and that I am to lay down my life in this foolish fashion for no fault of mine own.”
Then the knight of the castle said, “Well, stand thou away a little distance so that I may not strike thee too close, and so lose the virtue of my blow.”
The knight torments King Arthur.
So King Arthur stood forth in the midst of the hall, and the knight of the castle swung his sword several times, but did not strike. Likewise, he several times laid the blade of the sword upon King Arthur’s neck, and it was very cold. Then King Arthur cried out in great passion, “Sir, it is thy right to strike, but I beseech thee not to torment me in this manner.” “Nay,” said the knight of the castle, “it is my right to strike when it pleases me, and I will not strike any before that time. For if it please me I will torment thee for a great while ere I slay thee.” So he laid his sword several times more upon King Arthur’s neck, and King Arthur said no more, but bore that torment with a very steadfast spirit.
Then the knight of the castle said, “Thou appearest to be a very courageous and honorable knight, and I have a mind to make a covenant with thee.” And King Arthur said, “What is that covenant?” “It is this,” said the knight of the castle, “I will spare thee thy life for a year and a day if thou wilt pledge me thy knightly word to return hither at the end of that time.”
Then King Arthur said, “Very well; it shall be so.” And therewith he pledged his knightly word to return at the end of that time, swearing to that pledge upon the cross of the hilt of Excalibur.
The knight of the castle sets King Arthur a riddle.
Then the knight of the castle said, “I will make another covenant withthee.” “What is it?” said King Arthur. “My second covenant is this,” quoth the knight of the castle, “I will give to thee a riddle, and if thou wilt answer that riddle when thou returnest hither, and if thou makest no mistake in that answer, then will I spare thy life and set thee free.” And King Arthur said, “What is that riddle?” To which the knight made reply, “The riddle is this: What is it that a woman desires most of all in the world?”
“Sir,” said King Arthur, “I will seek to find the answer to that riddle, and I give thee gramercy for sparing my life for so long a time as thou hast done, and for giving me the chance to escape my death.” Upon this the knight of the castle smiled very sourly, and he said, “I do not offer this to thee because of mercy to thee, but because I find pleasure in tormenting thee. For what delight canst thou have in living thy life when thou knowest that thou must, for a surety, die at the end of one short year? And what pleasure canst thou have in living even that year when thou shalt be tormented with anxiety to discover the answer to my riddle?”
Then King Arthur said, “I think thou art very cruel.” And the knight said, “I am not denying that.”
So that night King Arthur and Boisenard lay at the castle, and the next day they took their way thence. And King Arthur was very heavy and troubled in spirit; ne’theless he charged Boisenard that he should say nothing concerning that which had befallen, but that he should keep it in secret. And Boisenard did as the King commanded, and said nothing concerning that adventure.
Now in that year which followed, King Arthur settled his affairs. Also he sought everywhere to find the answer to that riddle. Many there were who gave him answers in plenty, for one said that a woman most desired wealth, and another said she most desired beauty, and one said she desired power to please, and another said that she most desired fine raiment; and one said this, and another said that; but no answer appeared to King Arthur to be good and fitting for his purpose.
So the year passed by, until only a fortnight remained; and then King Arthur could not abide to stay where he was any longer, for it seemed to him his time was very near to hand, and he was filled with a very bitter anxiety of soul, wherefore he was very restless to be away.
So he called Boisenard to him, and he said, “Boisenard, help me to arm, for I am going away.”
Then Boisenard fell a-weeping in very great measure, and he said, “Lord, do not go.”
At this King Arthur looked very sternly at his esquire, and said, “Boisenard, how is this? Wouldst thou tempt me to violate mine honor? It is not very hard to die, but it would be very bitter to live my life in dishonor; wherefore tempt me no more, but do my bidding and hold thy peace. And if I do not return in a month from this time, then mayst thou tell all that hath befallen. And thou mayst tell Sir Constantine of Cornwall that he is to search the papers in my cabinet, and that there he will find all that is to be done should death overtake me.”
King Arthur set forth to return to the castle of the evil knight.
So Boisenard put a plain suit of armor upon King Arthur, though he could hardly see what he was about for the tears that flowed down out of his eyes in great abundance. And he laced upon the armor of the King a surcoat without device, and he gave the King a shield without device. Thereupon King Arthur rode away without considering whither his way took him. And of everyone whom he met he inquired what that thing was that a woman most desired, and no one could give him an answer that appeared to him to be what it should be, wherefore he was in great doubt and torment of spirit.
King Arthur cometh to the hut of an old woman.
Now the day before King Arthur was to keep his covenant at that castle, he was wandering through the adjacent forest in great travail of soul, for he wist not what he should do to save his life. As he wandered so, he came of a sudden upon a small hut built up under an overhanging oak-tree so that it was very hard to tell where the oak-tree ended and the hut began. And there were a great many large rocks all about covered with moss, so that the King might very easily have passed by the hut only that he beheld a smoke to arise therefrom as from a fire that burned within. So he went to the hut and opened the door and entered. At first he thought there was no one there, but when he looked again he beheld an old woman sitting bent over a small fire that burned upon the hearth. And King Arthur had never beheld such an ugly beldame as that one who sat there bending over that fire, for her ears were very huge and flapped, and her hair hung down over her head like to snakes, and her face was covered all over with wrinkles so that there were not any places at all where there was not a wrinkle; and her eyes were bleared and covered over with a film, and the eyelids were red as with the continual weeping of her eyes, and she had but one tooth in her mouth, and her hands, which she spread out to the fire, were like claws of bone.
Then King Arthur gave her greeting and she gave the King greeting, and she said to him, “My lord King, whence come ye? and why do ye come to this place?”
Then King Arthur was greatly astonished that that old woman should know him, who he was, and he said, “Who are you that appeareth to know me?” “No matter,” said she, “I am one who meaneth you well; so tell me what is the trouble that brings you here at this time.” So the King confessed all his trouble to that old woman, and he asked her if she knew the answer to that riddle, “What is it that a woman most desires?” “Yea,” said the old woman, “I know the answer to that riddle very well, but I will not tell it to thee unless thou wilt promise me something in return.”
At this King Arthur was filled with very great joy that the old woman should know the answer to that riddle, and he was filled with doubt of what she would demand of him, wherefore he said, “What is it thou must have in return for that answer?”
Then the old woman said, “If I aid thee to guess thy riddle aright, thou must promise that I shall become wife unto one of the knights of thy Court, whom I may choose when thou returnest homeward again.”
“Ha!” said King Arthur, “how may I promise that upon the behalf of anyone?” Upon this the old woman said, “Are not the knights of thy Court of such nobility that they will do that to save thee from death?” “I believe they are,” said King Arthur. And with that he meditated a long while, saying unto himself, “What will my kingdom do if I die at this time? I have no right to die.” So he said to the old woman, “Very well, I will make that promise.”
The old woman telleth King Arthur to answer the riddle.
Then she said unto the King, “This is the answer to that riddle: That which a woman most desires is to have her will.” And the answer seemed to King Arthur to be altogether right.
Then the old woman said, “My lord King, thou hast been played upon by that knight who hath led thee into this trouble, for he is a great conjurer and a magician of a very evil sort. He carrieth his life not within his body, but in a crystal globe which he weareth in a locket hanging about his neck; wherefore it was that when thou didst cut the head from off his body, his life remained in that locket and he did not die. But if thou hadst destroyed that locket, then he would immediately have died.”
“I will mind me of that,” said King Arthur.
So King Arthur abided with that old woman for that night, and she refreshed him with meat and drink and served him very well. And the next morning he set forth unto that castle where he had made his covenant, and his heart was more cheerful than it had been for a whole year.
How King Arthur Overcame the Knight-Enchanter, and How Sir Gawaine Manifested the High Nobility of His Knighthood.
King Arthur returneth to the castle of the evil knight.
NOW, when King Arthur came to the castle, the gateway thereof was immediately opened to him and he entered. And when he had entered, sundry attendants came and conducted him into the hall where he had aforetime been. There he beheld the knight of that castle and a great many people who had come to witness the conclusion of the adventure. And when the knight beheld King Arthur he said to him, “Sir, hast thou come to redeem thy pledge?” “Yea,” said King Arthur, “for so I made my vow to thee.” Then the knight of the castle said, “Sir, hast thou guessed that riddle?” And King Arthur said, “I believe that I have.” The knight of the castle said, “Then let me hear thy answer thereto. But if thou makest any mistake, or if thou dost not guess aright, then is thy life forfeit.” “Very well,” said King Arthur, “let it be that way. Now this is the answer to thy riddle: That which a woman most desires is to have her will.”
Now when the lord of the castle heard King Arthur guess aright he wist not what to say or where to look, and those who were there also perceived that the King had guessed aright.
Then King Arthur came very close to that knight with great sternness of demeanor, and he said, “Now, thou traitor knight! thou didst ask me to enter into thy sport with thee a year ago, so at these present it is my turn to ask thee to have sport with me. And this is the sport I will have, that thou shalt give me that chain and locket that hang about thy neck, and that I shall give thee the collar which hangeth about my neck.”
King Arthur slayeth the knight of the castle.
At this, the face of that knight fell all pale, like to ashes, and he emitted a sound similar to the sound made by a hare when the hound lays hold upon it. Then King Arthur catched him very violently by the arm, and he catched the locket and brake it away from about the knight’s neck, andupon that the knight shrieked very loud, and fell down upon his knees and besought mercy of the King, and there was great uproar in that place. Then King Arthur opened the locket and lo! there was a ball as of crystal, very clear and shining. And King Arthur said, “I will have no mercy,” and therewith he flung the ball violently down upon the stone of the pavement so that it brake with a loud noise. Then, upon that instant, the knight-conjurer gave a piercing bitter cry and fell down upon the ground; and when they ran to raise him up, behold! he was entirely dead.
Now when the people of that castle beheld their knight thus suddenly dead, and when they beheld King Arthur how he stood in the fury of his kingly majesty, they were greatly afeared so that they shrunk away from the King where he stood. Then the King turned and went out from that castle and no one stayed him, and he mounted his horse and rode away, and no one gave him let or hindrance in his going.
Now when the King had left the castle in that wise, he went straight to the hut where was the old beldame and he said to her, “Thou hast holpen me a very great deal in mine hour of need, so now will I fulfil that pledge which I made unto thee, for I will take thee unto my Court and thou shalt choose one of my knights for thy husband. For I think there is not one knight in all my Court but would be very glad to do anything that lieth in his power to reward one who hath saved me as thou hast done this day.”
King Arthur taketh the old woman away with him.
Therewith he took that old woman and he lifted her up upon the crupper of his horse; then he himself mounted upon his horse, and so they rode away from that place. And the King comported himself to that aged beldame in all ways with the utmost consideration as though she had been a beautiful dame of the highest degree in the land. Likewise he showed her such respect that had she been a lady of royal blood, he could not have shown greater respect to her.
So in due time they reached the Court, which was then at Carleon. And they came there nigh about mid-day.
Now about that time it chanced that the Queen and a number of the lords of the Court, and a number of the ladies of the Court, were out in the fields enjoying the pleasantness of the Maytime; for no one in all the world, excepting the esquire, Boisenard, knew anything of the danger that beset King Arthur; hence all were very glad of the pleasantness of the season. Now as King Arthur drew nigh to that place, these lifted up their eyes and beheld him come, and they were astonished beyond all measure to see King Arthur come to them across that field with that old beldamebehind him upon the saddle, wherefore they stood still to wait until King Arthur reached them.
But when King Arthur had come to them, he did not dismount from his horse, but sat thereon and regarded them all very steadfastly; and Queen Guinevere said, “Sir, what is this? Hast thou a mind to play some merry jest this day that thou hast brought hither that old woman?”
“Lady,” said King Arthur, “excepting for this old woman it were like to have been a very sorry jest for thee and for me; for had she not aided me I would now have been a dead man and in a few days you would doubtless all have been in great passion of sorrow.”
Then all they who were there marvelled very greatly at the King’s words. And the Queen said, “Sir, what is it that hath befallen thee?”
Thereupon King Arthur told them all that had happened to him from the very beginning when he and Boisenard had left the castle of Tintagalon. And when he had ended his story, they were greatly amazed.
Now there were seventeen lords of the Court there present. So when King Arthur had ended his story, he said unto these, “Messires, I have given my pledge unto this aged woman that any one of you whom she may choose, shall take her unto him as his wife, and shall treat her with all the regard that it is possible for him to do; for this was the condition that she laid upon me. Now tell me, did I do right in making unto her my pledge that I would fulfil that which she desired?” And all of those who were present said, “Yea, lord, thou didst right, for we would do all in the world for to save thee from such peril as that from which thou hast escaped.”
The old woman chooseth Sir Gawaine.
Then King Arthur said to that old woman, “Lady, is there any of these knights here whom you would choose for to be your husband?” Upon this, the old woman pointed with her very long, bony finger unto Sir Gawaine, saying, “Yea, I would marry that lord, for I see by the chain that is around his neck and by the golden circlet upon his hair and by the haughty nobility of his aspect, that he must be the son of a king.”
Then King Arthur said unto Sir Gawaine, “Sir, art thou willing to fulfil my pledge unto this old woman?” And Sir Gawaine said, “Yea, lord, whatsoever thou requirest of me, that will I do.” So Sir Gawaine came to the old woman and took her hand into his and set it to his lips; and not one of all those present so much as smiled. Then they all turned their faces and returned unto the King’s castle; and they were very silent and downcast, for this was sore trouble that had come upon that Court.
Sir Gawaine taketh the old woman to wife.
Now after they had returned unto the Court, they assigned certainapartments therein to that old woman, and they clad her in rich raiment such as a queen might wear, and they assigned unto her a Court such as was fit for a queen; and it seemed to all the Court that, in the rich robes which she wore, she was ten times more ugly than she was before. So when eleven days had passed, Sir Gawaine was wedded to that old woman in the chapel of the King’s Court with great ceremony and pomp of circumstance, and all of those who were there were as sad and as sorrowful as though Sir Gawaine had been called upon to suffer his death.
Afterward that they were married, Sir Gawaine and the old woman went to Sir Gawaine’s house and there Sir Gawaine shut himself off from all the world and suffered no one to come nigh him; for he was proud beyond all measure, and in this great humiliation he suffered in such a wise that words cannot tell how great was that humiliation. Wherefore he shut himself away from the world that no one might behold his grief and his shame.
Sir Gawaine is in great sorrow.
And all the rest of that day he walked continually up and down his chamber, for he was altogether in such despair that it came unto his mind that it would be well if he took his own life; for it seemed to him impossible for to suffer such shame as that which had come upon him. So after a while it fell the dark of the early night and therewith a certain strength came to Sir Gawaine and he said, “This is a shame for me for to behave in this way; for since I have married that lady she is my true wedded wife and I do not treat her with that regard unto which she hath the right.” So he went out of that place and sought the apartment of that old woman who was his wife, and by that time it was altogether dark. But when Sir Gawaine had come into that place where she was, that old woman upbraided him, crying out upon him, “So, Sir! You have treated me but ill upon this our wedding-day, for you have stayed all the afternoon away from me and now only come to me when it is dark night.” And Sir Gawaine said, “Lady, I could not help it, for I was very sore oppressed with many cares. But if I have disregarded thee this day, I do beseech thy forgiveness therefore, and I will hold myself willing to do all that is in my power to recompense thee for any neglect that I have placed upon thee.” Then the lady said, “Sir, it is very dark in this place; let us then have a light.” “It shall be as thou dost desire,” said Sir Gawaine, “and I, myself, will go and fetch a light for thee.”
So Sir Gawaine went forth from that place and he brought two waxen tapers, one in either hand, and he bore them in candlesticks of gold; for he was minded to show all respect unto that old woman. And when hecame into the room he perceived that she was at the farther end of the apartment and he went toward her, and she arose and stood before him as he approached.
Of the beautiful lady who appeareth to Sir Gawaine.
But when the circle of light fell upon that old woman, and when Sir Gawaine beheld her who stood before him, he cried out aloud in a very great voice because of the great marvel and wonder of that which he saw. For, instead of that old woman whom he had left, he beheld a lady of extraordinary beauty and in the very flower of her youth. And he beheld that her hair was long and glossy and very black, and that her eyes were likewise black like to black jewels, and that her lips were like coral, and her teeth were like pearls. So, for a while, Sir Gawaine could not speak, and then he cried out, “Lady! lady! who art thou?”
Then that lady smiled upon Sir Gawaine with such loving-kindness that he wist not what to think, other than that this was an angel who had descended to that place out of paradise. Wherefore he stood before her for a long time and could find no more words to say, and she continued to smile upon him very kindly in that wise. Then by and by Sir Gawaine said to her, “Lady, where is that dame who is my wife?” And the lady said, “Sir Gawaine, I am she.” “It is not possible,” cried out Sir Gawaine, “for she was old and extraordinarily ugly, but I believe that thou art beautiful beyond any lady whom I have beheld.” And the lady said, “Nevertheless, I am she and because thou hast taken me for thy wife with thine own free will and with great courtesy, so is a part of that enchantment that lay upon me removed from me. For I will now be able to appear before thee in mine own true shape. For whiles I was a little while ago so ugly and foul as thou didst behold me to be, now am I to be as thou seest me, for one-half the day—and the other half thereof I must be ugly as I was before.”
Then Sir Gawaine was filled beyond all words with great joy. And with that joy there came an extreme passion of loving regard for that lady. So he cried out aloud several times, “This is surely the most wonderful thing that ever befell any man in all the world.” Therewith he fell down upon his knees and took that lady’s hands into his own hands, and kissed her hands with great fervor, and all the while she smiled upon him as she had done at first.
Then again the lady said, “Come, sit thee down beside me and let us consider what part of the day I shall be in the one guise, and what part of the day I shall be in the other guise; for all day I may have the one appearance, and all night I may have the other appearance.”
Then Sir Gawaine said, “I would have thee in this guise during the night time, for then we are together at our own inn; and since thou art of this sort that I now see thee, I do not at all reckon how the world may regard thee.”
Upon this the lady spake with great animation, saying, “No, sir, I would not have it in that wise, for every woman loveth the regard of the world, and I would fain enjoy such beauty as is mine before the world, and not endure the scorn and contempt of men and women.”
To this Sir Gawaine said, “Lady, I would have it the other way.”
And she said, “Nay, I would have it my way.”
Sir Gawaine giveth the lady her will.
Then Sir Gawaine said, “So be it. For since I have taken thee for my wife, so must I show thee respect in all matters; wherefore thou shalt have thy will in this and in all other things.”
Then that lady fell a-laughing beyond all measure and she said, “Sir, I did but put this as a last trial upon thee, for as I am now, so shall I always be.”
Upon this Sir Gawaine was so filled with joy that he knew not how to contain himself.
So they sat together for a long time, hand in hand. Then after a while Sir Gawaine said, “Lady, who art thou?” Unto which she made reply, “I am one of the Ladies of the Lake; but for thy sake I have become mortal like to other women and have quit that very beautiful home where I one time dwelt. I have kept thee in my heart for a considerable while, for I was not very far distant at that time when thou didst bid adieu to Sir Pellias beside the lake. There I beheld how thou didst weep and bewail thyself when Sir Pellias left thee, wherefore my heart went out to thee with great pity. So, after a while, I quitted that lake and became mortal for thy sake. Now, when I found the trouble into which King Arthur had fallen I took that occasion to have him fetch me unto thee so that I might test the entire nobility of thy knighthood; and, lo! I have found it all that I deemed it possible to be. For though I appeared to thee so aged, so ugly, and so foul, yet hast thou treated me with such kind regard that I do not believe that thou couldst have behaved with more courtesy to me had I been the daughter of a king. Wherefore it doth now afford me such pleasure for to possess thee for my knight and my true lord, that I cannot very well tell thee how great is my joy therein.”
Sir Gawaine lets make great rejoicing.
Then Sir Gawaine said, “Lady, I do not think it can be so great as my joy in possessing thee.” And thereupon he came to her and laid his hand upon her shoulder and kissed her upon the lips.
Then, after that, he went forth and called with a great voice all through that house, and the people of the house came running from everywhere. And he commanded that the people should bring lights and refreshments, and they brought the lights, and when they had brought them and beheld that beautiful lady instead of the aged dame, they were filled with great wonder and joy; wherefore they cried out aloud and clapped their hands together and made much sound of rejoicing. And they set a great feast for Sir Gawaine and his lady, and in place of the sorrow and darkness that had been, there was joy and light, and music and singing; wherefore those of the King’s Court, beholding this from a distance, said, “It is very strange that Sir Gawaine should have taken so much joy of having wedded that old beldame.”
But when the next morning had come, that lady clad herself in raiment of yellow silk, and she hung about her many strands of precious stones of several colors, and she set a golden crown upon her head. And Sir Gawaine let call his horse, and he let call a snow-white palfrey for the lady, and thereupon they rode out from that place and entered the Court of the King. But when the King and the Queen and their several Courts beheld that lady, they were filled with such great astonishment that they wist not what to say for pure wonder. And when they heard all that had happened, they gave great joy and loud acclaim so that all their mourning was changed into rejoicing. And, indeed, there was not one knight there of all that Court who would not have given half his life to have been so fortunate in that matter as was Sir Gawaine, the son of King Lot of Orkney.
Such is the story of Sir Gawaine, and from it I draw this significance: as that poor ugly beldame appeared unto the eyes of Sir Gawaine, so doth a man’s duty sometimes appear to him to be ugly and exceedingly ill-favored unto his desires. But when he shall have wedded himself unto that duty so that he hath made it one with him as a bridegroom maketh himself one with his bride, then doth that duty become of a sudden very beautiful unto him and unto others.
So may it be with ye that you shall take duty unto yourselves no matter how much it may mislike ye to do so. For indeed a man shall hardly have any real pleasure in his life unless his inclination becometh wedded unto his duty and cleaveth unto it as a husband cleaveth unto his wife. For when inclination is thus wedded unto duty, then doth the soul take great joy unto itself as though a wedding had taken place betwixt a bridegroom and a bride within its tabernacle.
Likewise, when you shall have become entirely wedded unto your duty, then shall you become equally worthy with that good knight and gentleman Sir Gawaine; for it needs not that a man shall wear armor for to be a true knight, but only that he shall do his best endeavor with all patience and humility as it hath been ordained for him to do. Wherefore, when your time cometh unto you to display your knightness by assuming your duty, I do pray that you also may approve yourself as worthy as Sir Gawaine approved himself in this story which I have told you of as above written.
SO endeth this volume wherein hath been told, with every circumstance of narration, the history of those Three Worthies who were of the Court of King Arthur.
And now, if God will give me the grace to do so, I will some time, at no very great time from this, write the further history of sundry other knights and worthies of whom I have not yet spoken.
And among the first of these shall be Sir Launcelot, whom all the world knoweth to have been the greatest knight in prowess of arms of any who has lived, excepting Sir Galahad, who was his son. And I shall tell you the story of Sir Ewaine and Sir Geraint, and of Sir Percival and of sundry others.
But of this another time. For now, with great regret I bid you adieu and bring this history unto a close.
So may God grant us to come together at another time with such happiness and prosperity that you may have a free and untroubled heart to enjoy the narrated history of those excellent men which I shall then set before you. Amen.