Hero-Myths & Legends of the British Race
Only Queen Guenever understood, and she showed all courtesy to the
deformed bride, and stood by her as her lady-of-honour when the
wedding took place that evening, while King Arthur was groomsman to
his nephew. When the long banquet was over, and bride and bridegroom
no longer need sit side by side, the tables were cleared and the hall
was prepared for a dance, and then men thought that Sir Gawayne would
be free for a time to talk with his friends; but he refused. "Bride
and bridegroom must tread the first dance together, if she wishes it,"
quoth he, and offered his lady his hand for the dance. "I thank you,
sweet husband," said the grim lady as she took it and moved forward to
open the dance with him; and through the long and stately measure that
followed, so perfect was his dignity, and the courtesy and grace with
which he danced, that no man dreamt of smiling as the deformed lady
moved clumsily through the figures of the dance.
Sir Gawayne's Bride
At last the long evening was over, the last measure danced, the last
wine-cup drained, the bride escorted to her chamber, the lights out,
the guests separated in their rooms, and Gawayne was free to think of
what he had done, and to consider how he had ruined his whole hope of
happiness. He thought of his uncle's favour, of the poor lady's
gratitude, of the blessing she had invoked upon him, and he determined
to be gentle with her, though he could never love her as his wife. He
entered the bride-chamber with the feeling of a man who has made up
his mind to endure, and did not even look towards his bride, who sat
awaiting him beside the fire. Choosing a chair, he sat down and looked
sadly into the glowing embers and spoke no word.
"Have you no word for me, husband? Can you not even give me a glance?"
asked the lady, and Sir Gawayne turned his eyes to her where she sat;
and then he sprang up in amazement, for there sat no loathly lady, no
ugly and deformed being, but a maiden young and lovely, with black
eyes and long curls of dark hair, with beautiful face and tall and
graceful figure. "Who are you, maiden?" asked Sir Gawayne; and the
fair one replied: "I am your wife, whom you found between the oak and
the holly-tree, and whom you wedded this night."
Sir Gawayne's Choice
"But how has this marvel come to pass?" asked he, wondering, for the
fair maiden was so lovely that he marvelled that he had not known her
beauty even under that hideous disguise. "It is an enchantment to
which I am in bondage," said she. "I am not yet entirely free from it,
but now for a time I may appear to you as I really am. Is my lord
content with his loving bride?" asked she, with a little smile, as she
rose and stood before him. "Content!" he said, as he clasped her in
his arms. "I would not change my dear lady for the fairest dame in
Arthur's court, not though she were Queen Guenever herself. I am the
happiest knight that lives, for I thought to save my uncle and help a
hapless lady, and I have won my own happiness thereby. Truly I shall
never rue the day when I wedded you, dear heart." Long they sat and
talked together, and then Sir Gawayne grew weary, and would fain have
slept, but his lady said: "Husband, now a heavy choice awaits you. I
am under the spell of an evil witch, who has given me my own face and
form for half the day, and the hideous appearance in which you first
saw me for the other half. Choose now whether you will have me fair by
day and ugly by night, or hideous by day and beauteous by night. The
choice is your own."
The Dilemma
Sir Gawayne was no longer oppressed with sleep; the choice before him
was too difficult. If the lady remained hideous by day he would have
to endure the taunts of his fellows; if by night, he would be unhappy
himself. If the lady were fair by day other men might woo her, and he
himself would have no love for her; if she were fair to him alone, his
love would make her look ridiculous before the court and the king.
Nevertheless, acting on the spur of the moment, he spoke: "Oh, be fair
to me only--be your old self by day, and let me have my beauteous wife
to myself alone." "Alas! is that your choice?" she asked. "I only must
be ugly when all are beautiful, I must be despised when all other
ladies are admired; I am as fair as they, but I must seem foul to all
men. Is this your love, Sir Gawayne?" and she turned from him and
wept. Sir Gawayne was filled with pity and remorse when he heard her
lament, and began to realize that he was studying his own pleasure
rather than his lady's feelings, and his courtesy and gentleness again
won the upper hand. "Dear love, if you would rather that men should
see you fair, I will choose that, though to me you will be always
as you are now. Be fair before others and deformed to me alone, and
men shall never know that the enchantment is not wholly removed."
Sir Gawayne's Decision
Now the lady looked pleased for a moment, and then said gravely: "Have
you thought of the danger to which a young and lovely lady is exposed
in the court? There are many false knights who would woo a fair dame,
though her husband were the king's favourite nephew; and who can
tell?--one of them might please me more than you. Sure I am that many
will be sorry they refused to wed me when they see me to-morrow morn.
You must risk my beauty under the guard of my virtue and wisdom, if
you have me young and fair." She looked merrily at Sir Gawayne as she
spoke; but he considered seriously for a time, and then said: "Nay,
dear love, I will leave the matter to you and your own wisdom, for you
are wiser in this matter than I. I remit this wholly unto you, to
decide according to your will. I will rest content with whatsoever you
resolve."
The Lady's Story
Now the fair lady clapped her hands lightly, and said: "Blessings on
you, dear Gawayne, my own dear lord and husband! Now you have released
me from the spell completely, and I shall always be as I am now, fair
and young, till old age shall change my beauty as he doth that of all
mortals. My father was a great duke of high renown who had but one son
and one daughter, both of us dearly beloved, and both of goodly
appearance. When I had come to an age to be married my father
determined to take a new wife, and he wedded a witch-lady. She
resolved to rid herself of his two children, and cast a spell upon us
both, whereby I was transformed from a fair lady into the hideous
monster whom you wedded, and my gallant young brother into the
churlish giant who dwells at Tarn Wathelan. She condemned me to keep
that awful shape until I married a young and courtly knight who would
grant me all my will. You have done all this for me, and I shall be
always your fond and faithful wife. My brother too is set free from
the spell, and he will become again one of the truest and most gentle
knights alive, though none can excel my own true knight, Sir Gawayne."
The Surprise of the Knights
The next morning the knight and his bride descended to the great hall,
where many knights and ladies awaited them, the former thinking
scornfully of the hideous hag whom Gawayne had wedded, the latter
pitying so young and gallant a knight, tied to a lady so ugly. But
both scorn and pity vanished when all saw the bride. "Who is this fair
dame?" asked Sir Kay. "Where have you left your ancient bride?" asked
another, and all awaited the answer in great bewilderment. "This is
the lady to whom I was wedded yester evening," replied Sir Gawayne.
"She was under an evil enchantment, which has vanished now that she
has come under the power of a husband, and henceforth my fair wife
will be one of the most beauteous ladies of King Arthur's court.
Further, my lord King Arthur, this fair lady has assured me that the
churlish knight of Tarn Wathelan, her brother, was also under a spell,
which is now broken, and he will be once more a courteous and gallant
knight, and the ground on which his fortress stands will have
henceforth no magic power to quell the courage of any knight alive.
Dear liege and uncle, when I wedded yesterday the loathly lady I
thought only of your happiness, and in that way I have won my own
lifelong bliss."
King Arthur's joy at his nephew's fair hap was great for he had
grieved sorely over Gawayne's miserable fate, and Queen Guenever
welcomed the fair maiden as warmly as she had the loathly lady, and
the wedding feast was renewed with greater magnificence, as a fitting
end to the Christmas festivities.
CHAPTER XIV: KING HORN
Introduction
Among the hero-legends which are considered to be of native English
growth and to have come down to us from the times of the Danish
invasions is the story of King Horn; but although "King Horn," like
"Havelok the Dane," was originally a story of Viking raids, it has
been so altered that the Norse element has been nearly obliterated. In
all but the bare circumstances of the tale, "King Horn" is a romance
of chivalry, permeated with the Crusading spirit, and reflecting the
life and customs of the thirteenth century, instead of the more
barbarous manners of the eighth or ninth centuries. The hero's desire
to obtain knighthood and do some deed worthy of the honour, the
readiness to leave his betrothed for long years at the call of honour
or duty, the embittered feeling against the Saracens, are all typical
of the romance of the Crusades. Another curious point which shows a
later than Norse influence is the wooing of the reluctant youth by the
princess, of which there are many instances in mediaeval literature; it
reveals a consciousness of feudal rank which did not exist in early
times, and a certain recognition of the privileges of royal birth
which were not granted before the days of romantic chivalry. King Horn
himself is a hero of the approved chivalric type, whose chief
distinguishing feature is his long indifference to the misfortunes of
the sorely-tried princess to whom he was betrothed.
The Royal Family of Suddene
There once lived and ruled in the pleasant land of Suddene a noble
king named Murry, whose fair consort, Queen Godhild, was the most
sweet and gentle lady alive, as the king was a pattern of all
knightly virtues. This royal pair had but one child, a son, named
Horn, now twelve years old, who had been surrounded from his birth
with loyal service and true devotion. He had a band of twelve chosen
companions with whom he shared sports and tasks, pleasures and griefs,
and the little company grew up well trained in chivalrous exercises
and qualities. Childe Horn had his favourites among the twelve. Athulf
was his dearest friend, a loving and devoted companion; and next to
him in Horn's affection stood Fikenhild, whose outward show of love
covered his inward envy and hatred. In everything these two were
Childe Horn's inseparable comrades, and it seemed that an equal bond
of love united the three.
The Saracen Invasion
One day as King Murry was riding over the cliffs by the sea with only
two knights in attendance he noticed some unwonted commotion in a
little creek not far from where he was riding, and he at once turned
his horse's head in that direction and galloped down to the shore. On
his arrival in the small harbour he saw fifteen great ships of strange
build, and their crews, Saracens all armed for war, had already
landed, and were drawn up in warlike array. The odds against the king
were terrible, but he rode boldly to the invaders and asked: "What
brings you strangers here? Why have you sought our land?" A Saracen
leader, gigantic of stature, spoke for them all and replied: "We are
here to win this land to the law of Mahomet and to drive out the
Christian law. We will slay all the inhabitants that believe on