We present the second and final part of our audio drama (part one is here) in which Sir Gawain meets his destiny on New Year’s Day. He must allow The Knight of the Green Chapel one strike against him with an axe. In the meantime he faces a more delicate challenge in the castle of Lord Bertilak.

• Natasha Gostwick as Morgan Le Fay and Lady Bertilak
• Richard Scott as Sir Gawain and King Arthur
• Sam Freeman The Green Knight and Lord Bertilak

Many thanks to Jon Sayles for his site full of free recordings of early music which he plays so wonderfully on the classical guitar. Do fill up your iPod with Jon’s MP3s because there’s some lovely music here.

Adapted by Hugh Fraser for Storynory.

[pull up sound of hunting horns]

Morgan Le Fay

Before the cock crowed, the huntsmen and hounds gathered in the courtyard of the castle. They set out noisily for the forest, with many barks and calls on the hunting horn. Wild things trembled when they heard the din. Deer darted along the valley. Soon the hinds were springing this way and that to flee the flying arrows and the greyhounds snapping at their feet. Bertilak galloped ahead of the pack, thrilling to the chase.

But in the castle, the handsome head of Sir Gawain lay on his pillow. His strong limbs stretched out between the richly coloured covers of the bed. As the rays of the morning sun fell on his face, he lingered somewhere between sleep and awakening.

Sir Gawain

I hear the latch on the door rise gently. I feel a soft presence in the room. Do I dream? She parts the curtain of the bed, and settles gently down near my feet. I feel her blue eyes gazing on my face. What shall I do? Pretend to sleep on? But better, I think, to find out what brings her here. (Yawning noise)…. My Lady Bertilak….

Lady Bertilak

You, Sir Gawain, are my prisoner. You failed to hear me enter. The sentries of your five senses were asleep. And now I have taken you by surprise.

Sir Gawain

Fair lady, I beg for mercy. But now, I pray, retreat behind the door so that I may rise and dress, and then I can receive you more properly.

Lady Bertilak

No indeed, my noble prisoner. You shall not rise from your bed. Instead, I shall tuck you in, and I shall sit here and and talk pleasantly with the knight whom I have caught.

Sir Gawain

It is my pleasure to be held captive by one so lovely.

Lady Bertilak

Lucky will be the one who marries you. If a woman lived seven life times, it would be hard to find a husband more handsome, noble and pleasant.

Sir Gawain

Then you are all the more fortunate, because you have already chosen a husband who is better than me in every respect.

Lady Bertilak

But I am no longer sure that you are a true knight. For would not a true Knight seek at least a single kiss from a lady?

Sir Gawain

Very well my lady, if I will grant you one chaste kiss , will you set me free?

Lady Bertilak

I agree to your terms. In exchange for one kiss, I will release my prisoner – for now.

Morgan Le Fay

Lady Bertilak held the Knight’s handsome head in her hands, and her lips gave him a single kiss on the forehead. A moment later, she slipped from the room. Sir Gawain arose and dressed, and occupied himself happily until evening when Bertilak returned from the hunt. The whole household gathered in the great hall to see the cuts of meat, the venison they had prepared for roasting.

Bertilak

Sir Gawain, do you not agree that is a profitable result for a day’s hunting?

Sir Gawain

It is the finest kill I have seen for many a year.

Bertilak

It is all yours, Sir Gawain. I give it to you freely as we agreed in our pact. And if you have gained anything good today, will you give it to me?

Sir Gawain

I have indeed won a prize today, but this is all it was.

Morgan Le Fay

And Sir Gawain embraced his host and kissed him on the forehead as tenderly as he could manage.

Bertilak (laughingly)

Well perhaps your gift was the better of the two. Will you tell me where you gained this kiss?

Sir Gawain

No Sir. I shall not. The rules of our pact do not stipulate that I must give you that information.

Bertilak

Well thank you for trading so freely. What if we do the same tomorrow? I will go out hunting in the morning, and you rest in the castle. In the evening we shall exchange whatever good we have gained during the day.

Sir Gawain.

It shall be my honour and my pleasure.

Morgan Le Fay

They sat that evening eating, drinking, and enjoying their conversation. At the dawning of the next day, Bertilak led the hunt across the fields through the mist. At the edge of the marsh, the hounds caught the scent of a wild boar. A white tusk flashed in the first rays of the sun. The hoary old beast was fenced in by the snarls of the dogs and the spears of the men. He lowered his porcupine head and charged at his tormenters. Arrows flew and ricocheted off his hairy hide. Dogs yelped and men screamed as the fierce pig gashed them.

Back in the castle, the Lord’s wife slipped once again into the room of Sir Gawain and softly closed the door behind her.

Sir Gawain

Good morning, dear lady.

Lady Bertilak

I no longer believe that you are truly Sir Gawain as you say you are. You are an impostor.

Sir Gawain

My lady Bertilak, I cannot think what I have done to put such doubts into your mind.

Lady Bertilak

Why it seems strange that a knight, so famed the world over for his manners, grace and chivalry to women, should have so promptly forgotten the lesson I taught him yesterday.

Sir Gawain

I beg your forgiveness. What lesson was that?

Lady Bertilak

Why don’t you recall? The lesson of a kiss.

Sir Gawain

Dear Lady. If it pleases you, it shall be my honour to receive one kiss on the cheek.

Morgan Le Fay

Lady Bertilak kissed the knight gently on the cheek, and laughingly questioned him about the art of courtly romance. Sir Gawain deftly answered her questions, always with great courtesy , but skillfully denying her the chance to demand any more kisses. Until at last, at mid morning, he allowed her just one more kiss, a parting one as is proper. She left him with a loving smile, and he rose and dressed for the day.

Meanwhile, Lord Bertilak stood ankle deep in a cold stream, a sword in his hand. The great wild boar stood higher up the hill, grunting menacingly, its bristles on end. It lowered its head and charged with its ferocious tusks pointing straight at the knight. There followed a fight in which both rolled over in the stream. It was single combat, man versus pig, tusk against sword, but the boar got the worst of it, and Bertilak, though wounded, held its head up high. All around the huntsmen blew their horns to celebrate the kill and their master’s triumph.

That evening in the castle, Bertilak presented the huge hairy head and the cuts of pork to Sir Gawain as his gift. And Sir Gawain, according to the rules of the game, gave Bertilak the winnings he had won during his day in the castle.

Sir Gawain

(Two Kissing sounds)

Bertilak

Ha-Ah ! This is twice as good today. Two kisses ! At this rate you shall be a rich man. I thank you, Sir Gawain, once again for playing so fairly and so honorably. By St. Giles, you are the best man I know. Now let us dine and relax, and tomorrow let us play the game of trades a third and final time.

Morgan Le Fay

In the morning, after Mass and a quick bite of breakfast, Bertilak mounted his horse and led the hunt out over the bright frosty ground. The hard winter sun rose above the hill tops, and the clouds reached across the skies with long rosy fingers. The huntsmen released the hounds at the edge of the woods, and as the horns blew all around, some of the whippets caught the scent of a fox. The hounds soon caught up, panting hard, and some of the huntsmen caught sight of a fleeting red flash. The fox doubled back, dodged through hedgerows, paddled across streams, slipped through prickly thickets, slid between narrow rocks, and many times the hounds lost his cunning scent, only to catch it again minutes later….. while in the castle, our noble knight lay sleeping, resting his strong limbs.

The lady of the house dressed herself in her most lovely robe, and arranged the pearls over her delicate breast. She trod silently down the corridor, and slipped into the room of her sleeping guest. He stirred and groaned, as if he was having some bad dream. She bent low over his head and softly kissed his face.

Sir Gawain.

Lady Bertilak. This is the most pleasant awakening.

Lady Bertilak

And now I will scold you. You are very much to blame if you do not love the lady who has come to you so frankly. It is not courteous for a knight to fend off a woman’s advances, as if they were the stabs of an enemy.

Unless, of course, you love another. Yes, that is the only conclusion I can draw. You do not return my kisses because you carry the picture of a sweetheart in your soul, one who is more beautiful and delightful to your eyes.

Sir Gawain.

I swear a double oath. I have no sweetheart, nor do I intend to have any for now.

Lady Bertilak.

That is very painful for me to hear. Now Sir, let us kiss one more time, and I will leave you to your rest.

Sir Gawain

It will be my great pleasure to receive one more kiss.

Lady Bertilak

There. That is your last kiss. But before I leave you with my broken heart, will you not give me just some little gift, a token of our friendship that has been so proper, something to ease my sorrow. May I take a glove to remember you by?

Sir Gawain

My glove is nothing special. It is not a fitting gift for a lady.

Lady Bertilak.

I will make a fair exchange. I will give you this ring in return. Its jewel is clear and bright, and very costly.

Sir Gawain.

I could not accept such a gift.

Lady Bertilak.

Very well. I shall leave you.

Sir Gawain.

Goodbye, my lady.

Lady Bertilak

Unless, perhaps, you will accept something less eye-catching from me. This green belt which I wear around my waist. I would be glad for you to have it as your own. It looks plain enough to the untrained eye, but I will tell you this secret. It was made by the witch, Morgan Le Fay, whom you have seen, though you may not have known it was her. She is the revered lady, now old, but once beautiful, who lives under this roof. Long ago, when she was fresh and young, she loved Merlin the Wizard and from him she learned much magic. He or she who wears this magical garter is immune to any weapon. No cut of a sword or an axe can harm the one who wears it. I think it might prove useful to a man of your profession.

Sir Gawain

No harm from any weapon, you say. My lady,

Lady Bertilak

No harm.

Sir Gawain

By St. Mary, I shall gladly accept this gift, and thank you with all my heart.

Lady Bertilak

Here. I unclasp the belt from my waist, and place it on the end of your bed. And if you are not afraid, I will step closer and give you one more kiss, the third, and truly the last on this day, and then, upon my word, I shall leave you. But will you make me this promise, on your honour as a true knight, that you will say nothing of this gift to my husband?

Sir Gawain

My lady, you have my word. I shall say nothing of this gift.

Morgan Le Fay

With one final kiss, the lady and the knight parted. He rose and placed the green belt among his things. Hope sprang up in his heart. He believed that he might yet see the sun set on New Year’s Day. When he was dressed, he went directly to chapel, asked to see the priest, and made his confession, though he did not think to mention to the priest anything of his trust in the green belt of Morgan Le Fay.

Toward the end of the day, the hunting hounds ran the fox to ground, and cunning Reynard met a swift end. Bertilak returned to the castle with its mangy red pelt as his trophy.

Bertilak

Good Sir Gawain. This is all I have to show my day in the saddle, though I must say the hunting was fast and fun. I trust your day has rewarded you better.

Sir Gawain

I thank you. I have enjoyed a most pleasant day, and I am in the best of spirits. And this evening I have three gifts to offer you. (Three kissing sounds)

Sir Bertilak

By Mary, you are fortunate to have found such gifts, provided you struck a good bargain for these three kisses !

Sir Gawain

I believe I did, sir.

Morgan Le Fay

And that night, New Year’s Eve, there was great feasting and rejoicing. Sir Gawain spoke and jested merrily with all around, and was careful to give his most special courtesies to Lady Bertilak. Everyone said that they had not seen the Knight in such good spirits since he came to the castle. Until, at last, it was time to take their leave, and for Sir Gawain to give his thanks for such a wonderful stay. Guest and and host hugged one another, and commended each other to Christ. And before he retired to bed, Bertilak appointed a servant to rise at first light and guide Sir Gawain on his way to the Green Chapel, to meet his destiny.

[sound of birds and open air]

Servant

My noble Sir. If you will grant me my release, I would come no further with you. The green chapel which my Lord commanded me to show you is just over that crag. Climb up and you shall see it. But if you care for your life, listen to what I suggest. Do not go on. There is a terrible creature who lives there, half man, half beast, the Knight of the Green Chapel they call him. He deals death to all who cross his path. No poor man, no priest, no lord has ever survived an encounter with him. Go further, and you go to your doom. Instead, if you have good sense, follow the track in the other direction. It will lead you far away from here. I will tell not a single soul that you departed from you dark plan. I give you my word. I will say to everyone who asks that you rode down freely to the Green Chapel.

Sir Gawain.

Thank you kindly for your well meaning wishes, but I have sworn an oath that I shall meet the Green Knight on this very morning, and by the five pointed star of my shield, I will not break with my word.

Servant

Then goodbye honoured sir. There are many in the castle, among the high born and the humble, among the noble and the fair, who greatly regret your resolve.

[play up a eery soundscape]

Sir Gawain

By Mary, this place is ugly, and over grown with weeds. It is a fitting place for a wild man in green to do honour to the devil. This is the chill chapel of ill-fortune. It is the most un-holy church I ever entered.

[Play up weird scything nose]

Why I believe that dread sound was made in my honour. Let God’s will be done. No noise shall frighten me.

Where be the master of this place ? It is I, Sir Gawain, come to keep my word !

The Green Knight

Gawain ! You are welcome to my abode. You have timed your visit as a true man should, quite in accord with the pact we made a year and a day ago. Remove your helmet and let us complete our exchange. I will return you the blow that I promised.

Sir Gawain

I shall stand still and let you strike. But make it a single stroke, for that is all that was sworn to.

Morgan Le Fay

And now the fate that I planned was being fulfilled. Sir Gawain inclined his head and showed the flesh on the back of his neck. Then the Green Knight lifted his grim weapon aloft, and swung as if he meant to deal him death. but Sir Gawain swayed sideways, and the blade landed in the green moss.

The Green Knight

Is this Sir Gawain, famed for his courage? I think not. Would a true knight flinch before death? Did I so much as shiver when you struck my head from my shoulders in the court of King Arthur?

Sir Gawain

Sir. Strike again and I will not move an inch. Only hurry and get the deed done.

Morgan Le Fay

My green man lifted his axe and swung once again with all the might of his great body, but he stopped it just short of the neck of the knight. Sir Gawain stood perfectly still, true to his word.

The Green Knight

So you have found your courage. I stopped short so you could be hear my praise and be honoured as a true knight. But these words will be the last you shall hear for this time I will strike true.

Sir Gawain

So strike. The time for games is over.

The Green Knight

Since you are in such a hurry to depart this world. I will not detain you.

[sound effect of blade rushing through air]

Morgan Le Fay

My man swung, and his blade caught the flesh and drew Sir Gawain’s red blood from his veins. But the wound was not deep nor did any serious harm. Feeling the nick on his neck, Sir Gawain knew that his duty was done. He need stand still no longer. His sword was drawn in a trice.

Sir Gawain

You’ve had your swing by St. Mary. Our contract is complete. Now stand and fight in a contest that is fair.

The Green Knight

Hey gentle Knight, your anger is understandable, but there is no need for it. Had I wanted to kill you, believe me, the strike of my axe would have done for you. See now, I put down my weapon and lift my helmet from my head. And I think, you shall soon see a face that you know.

Sir Gawain.

Bertilak !

The Green Knight / Bertilak

I offered you one playful blow which did you no harm. This good I gave you in return for your truth, for on the first day of your trial, you freely and fairly delivered to me one kiss from my lovely wife. The second blow that missed you was also my gift, because on the second day of our bargain you truly surrendered two kisses from my wife. My third blow stung you, but did you no great harm. I took this slight cut out of your flesh with justice, for you are wearing something that is mine: the green garter that my wife gave you, and which is now belted around your waist. This you should have surrendered to me, by the rules of our pact.

Sir Gawain

Oh by St. Mary I see now that I have sinned ! I loved my life too dearly and accepted this gift without telling you. I have failed my word. I have been disloyal to my host. I am no worthy knight.

The Green Knight

Do not be so harsh on yourself, Good Sir. I do not think there is another knight in the world who would have passed these tests with such honour. Three times you have proved yourself a true guest and a faithful knight. How many men, brave and unflinching in battle, are equally strong in the face womanly beauty? Not many, I say. And of those, how many so deftly and courteously weave their way through such a delicate trap. You are a man apart, I declare, the one true knight.

Sir Gawain.

No sir. I have failed. And for that I am truly sorry.

The Green Knight.

The standards you set for yourself are too high. Now return to my walls where you will be most welcome to stay a little longer.

Sir Gawain

No. I thank you. My quest is at an end. I must give you your green belt and be on my way.

The Green Knight.

Keep it. I give it freely. Remember me and my lady by it.

Sir Gawain

Thank you sir. May God be with you and your good wife. I will always wear this green garter to remind me of the day I fell short of my duty.

Morgan Le Fay

And now my test is at an end. What lesson shall we draw from this tale?

Sir Gawain returned to Camelot and related the result of his quest with great shame. The courtiers laughed to learn of how he was tricked, and thought it a good sport. And King Arthur , if he honoured his knightly nephew before, he honored him thrice as much now. He commanded that every Knight of the Round Table should wear a green garter from that time on, in remembrance of the noblest of their number, Sir Gawain.

And so shall we conclude that this noble knight behaved with shame, fun, or honour? And to return to my question, what is it that makes a man?

I now have my answer and I give it to you freely. This is the single word that sums up a man and makes him what he is:

Imperfection.

Storynory presents an audio drama adapted from the famous medieval story.

It is almost New Year at the court of King Arthur. A strange visitor lays down a challenge which is taken up by Arthur’s nephew, Sir Gawain. A year later Sir Gawain sets out on a quest that proves a test to his honour as much as to his valour. Our story weaves between narration and voice parts and is probably Storynory’s most ambitious production to date. It might appeal to slightly older children (and perhaps to adults too ).

• Natasha Gostwick as Morgan Le Fay and Lady Bertilak
• Richard Scott as Sir Gawain and King Arthur
• Sam Freeman The Green Knight and Lord Bertilak

Many thanks to Jon Sayles for his site full of free recordings of early music which he plays so wonderfully on the classical guitar. Do fill up your iPod with Jon’s MP3s because there’s some lovely music here.

We also made use of some fabulous public domain Gregorian chants.

Adapted by Hugh Fraser for Storynory.

The first of Two Parts

Morgan Le Fay

The story that you are about to hear was all my doing. I wished, I willed it , I spelled it. So listen well little ones, for I am Morgan Le Fay – the sorceress no less – the queen of the Welsh Witches, and the enchanting enemy of King Arthur.

I worked out these wonders because my womanly heart demanded an answer to a question. What is it that makes a man? Is it valour in battle? Is it a tongue that speaks true? Or is it a way with words that sways the ladies? And what beasts must a true knight slay? Serpents that breathe fire, or demons that whisper desire?

And so I sought a man to test. Not just any puny little man but the finest fellow who rode a horse since Felix Brutus left behind the flaming city of Troy, and founded the race of brawling, warring, strife-loving men that are known as the Britons. The most famous among the Britons is Arthur,` their King. But the noblest, the knight who perfectly combines courtesy and valour, whose every word, whose every gesture, is governed by the courtly code of chivalry, is not the King himself, but his nephew, Sir Gawain. He is the one. If he can not pass the test that I set, then no man can.
-

It is Christmas. Picture the splendid scene at Camelot Castle. The lords and ladies who gather at Arthur’s court are the best in the Kingdom. The men are handsome, the women are pretty. All are carefree and gay. They celebrate the festive season with games and jousting, dancing and carol singing. You can hear their noisy noels from ten miles away. For a full fifteen days they celebrate, until at last a shiny new year is about to be born. After Mass in the chapel. the noble lords hold up New Year gifts in their hands. The ladies play guessing games for the prizes, and laugh out loud even when they lose and have to forfeit a kiss.

Such were the scenes that led up to dinner time. As the feast began, King Arthur took his place on the high table. All around were noble knights and fair ladies, and Queen Guenevere sat in their midst. Silks shimmered and jewels sparkled, but the brightest gems were the Queen’s shining eyes.

Trumpets and drums heralded the courses. I will not describe the sumptuous dishes that were laid before them, as you can well imagine that no- one lacked anything. All I will note is that King Arthur sat still. He did not lift a morsel to his mouth. For it was his custom not to eat on such occasions until he had seen, or heard tell, of something wonderful. And that is when I sent my creature in.

My man rattled the door and came clattering into the hall on his horse. He was a giant, a man mountain, but although his shoulders and chest were as broad and square as battlements, his waist was boyishly slender. He was the biggest but also the most handsome of men. The gaze of every lord and lady was upon him. And what amazed them most was that every aspect of the man was bright green. His tunic and his fur-trimmed cloak were green. His leggings, the same. His hands were green. His face was green. His beard and long flowing hair was were as green as grass. His eyes were like emeralds. And his horse – yes you’ve guessed it – was a good shade of green. In one hand he held a sprig of green holly. In the other a monstrous, fearsome green axe. Its head was a yard wide. Yet he wore no armour, nor carried any other weapon.

The green axeman rode into the hall, and headed for the high table. When at last he spoke, this is what he said:

The Green Knight

“Who is the Governor of this gang? I wish to set eyes on his face and speak with him.”

Morgan Le Fay

He cast his gaze on the knights, and looked them up and down, as he studied their faces, and considered who was the most renowned of them all.

And they looked back at him. And the longer they looked at him, the greener he seemed to grow. No one spoke a word. I would not put their silence down to fear, for here in the hall sat the bravest knights in all Christendom. Rather, let us say, it was courtesy that held down every tongue, until at last Arthur saluted the visitor and greeted him thus:

Arthur

Sir, you are welcome here. Please dismount from your horse, and join us at this feast.

The Green Knight

No, so help me, I do not invite myself to your table. I am no gate-crasher. And by the sign of this stick of holly, you may be sure that I come in peace. See, I wear civilian clothes. Had I war on my mind, I would have come differently dressed. At home I have a sharp spear and a shining helmet. But your fame and your love of thrill draws me here at this merry time of year. The greatest knights in all Christendom celebrate in this hall. All I ask is that one step forward, and join me in a game, a Christmas contest shall we say, a spot of sport.

Arthur

Sir courteous knight, if it is single combat that you seek, you will not fail to find a fight here.

The Green Knight

I tell you in good faith, I came to this court in search of some festive fun. It is the very season for games. If there is any lad here so bold in his heart, so thoughtless in his head, that he will trade me one blow for a blow, then I will give him this axe as a prize. It is great and heavy and he may do with it as he pleases. I shall grant his blade first strike against my bare neck . I shall stand here and not flinch. He may cut with all his force, but only once. If anyone will do me this favour, let him step forward. All I ask is a single strike on the same terms. There will be no rush to claim my right. I will wield my return cut, a year and a day from now. …. Come….. Such silence? Does anyone have anything to say?

Morgan Le Fay

If they were stunned before, they were more stunned now. The green knight twisted and turned in his saddle, and cast his emerald gaze on each and every face.

The Green Knight

What ? Is this Arthur’s house? Are these the knights about whom the whole world chatters? Where are the dragon-slaying, grail-seeking, maiden-saving, questing, besting, knights of the renowned round table? Can they be these boys who will not trade one little blow for another?

Arthur

By heaven, no-one here is a afraid, merely baffled by your foolish request. Give me your axe by Mary, and I will grant you the cut that you desire.

Morgan Le Fay

The green knight that I had sent, stepped down from his horse and handed the axe to the King. He stood bare-necked, without the slightest quiver or shiver, and stroked his beard. Arthur swung the axe about, testing it for weight and balance. But before he was ready to deal the blow, there came a voice from the high table.

Sir Gawain

My worshipful Lord. If you will, command me now to rise from this bench and to stand by you there. I do not think it right that you, my Lord, should take up this haughty challenge here in your hall. So many of the boldest men on earth sit here all around. I myself am the weakest, and my life counts the least. If I were not your nephew, no one would pay me any regard. To speak to the point: let us risk my neck, not yours.

Morgan Le Fay

The leading nobles gathered, and they all advised one and the same, that the crowned King should give Sir Gawain this game.

Sir Gawain

Let St. Mary be my witness. I, Sir Gawain, take this axe to strike one blow against the green neck of our guest according to his own wishes. And one year and a day from now I will accept a similar blow against myself, from none other than this same green knight.

The Green Knight

I thank you for this favour. I incline my head to you sir, and sweep aside my long flowing hair so you may take a better aim at my nape. Deal your single blow. You will not see me flinch.

[Sound effect of axe and uproar]

Sir Gawain

And now courteous guest, I have granted your strange wish. Your head is parted from your shoulders. You will not, I think be dealing any blow against me a year and a day from now, nor on any day,

Hey, but what in Heaven or Hell’s name is this? He, headless, stands quite still. Must I believe my eyes? He springs across the floor. His hands reach under the tables and among the diners’ feet. He picks up his head like a ball. He vaults back up onto his horse. And now the blubbery green lips move. He – it – speaks !

The Green Knight

By your honour, do not fail, Sir Gawain, and do not forget. Remember your oath before all these knights seated here. A year and a day from now, your quest is to find me. Be sure to ask for the Knight of the Green Chapel. Many men know me. Ask and you shall not fail to find. On New Year’s morning take your blow, as I have just taken mine. It is right and just. Come or be called a coward.

Morgan Le Fay

The hooves of his horse clatter out of the hall. The wild man in green is gone. Sir Gawain is speechless, though all those seated around the hall discuss the marvel they have just witnessed. The King takes Sir Gawain by the arm:

KIng Arthur

My noble nephew, hang your axe up on the wall above the the high table. In Christmasses to come, those who feast here will gaze up at it and remember your wondrous game. Eat and be merry. The year is young.

Fade up some music

Morgan Le Fay

The year turns hastily on, through lean Lent, burning summer and mellow autumn. At last the calendar reaches All Saints Day, and Sir Gawain recalls his grim quest. He must set out and seek the blow against his own neck, according to the rules of the game. Little does he know that it was I, Morgan Le Fay, who devised the rules of this sport. And soon I shall see what stuff the man is made of. He says his final goodbyes to the famed knights and ladies of Camelot. Last, but not least, he kneels before Queen Guenevere.

Sir Gawain

Gracious Queen, you honour me with your tears, but I cannot share your regrets for the life of your faithful knight. We must all submit to our fate.

Morgan Le Fay

Servants set out his armour on a silk carpet. He held up his spiked helmet and kissed it. He stepped into his grieves. His batman buckled him into his breastplate. Five men lifted him up onto his horse. Over his shoulder, he slung his shield on which was emblazoned, in gold, his five pointed symbol – the sign by which all knew him as the noble Sir Gawain.

Sir Gawain (softly)

Our Father who art in Heaven, I pray that the sacred star of my shield shall guide me and protect my honour. King Solomon devised this everlasting knot. Each point of the perfect pentangle reminds me of my duty. Lead me not into temptation with my five senses, Deliver me from sinning with the five fingers of my hand. Give me strength from the five wounds of your son, our Saviour. Let me find comfort in the five joys of St. Mary. And let me not waver from the five virtues of a true knight: generosity of heart, faith to words, purity of mind and body, courtesy to high and low, and sympathy for those who suffer.

Morgan Le Fay

As soon as he had spoken this prayer, he dug his golden spurs into the side of his steed, and its hooves sent sparks flying off the cobbles.

He wandered westwards, through dark forests, over high mountains, and across fast flowing rivers. On his way he met wild trolls and ogres, bulls, bears, dragons and all manner of abominable beasts. He dealt with them as a knight should, with his sword and lance when needs be. The rain, the sleet and the snow showed him no pity. His only company was Gryngelot, his horse. His only shelter was his armour. But all these sufferings were nothing to him. Still he quested on, until at last, on the eve of Christmas Day, he prayed to St. Mary , for a chapel where he could hear mass. He crossed himself three times as he came over the brow of the hill, and the turrets and battlements of a strong but handsome castle came into view. With hope in his heart, he spurred Gryngelot down the grassy slope to the deep moat and the end of the drawbridge.

Sir Gawain.

Good Porter ! Please, be my messenger. Go to the noble Lord of this house. Tell him an errant knight is at his door, and humbly begs shelter.

Porter

I believe, by St. Peter, that you will find a welcome within these walls.

Morgan Le Fay

The porter was not a bad sort. He returned soon with company to help the guest down from his horse. As he stood in his resplendent armour, knights and squires came out of the halls and knelt before him on the cold ground.

Sir Gawain

Please, please, noble sirs. There is no need at all to kneel. I am a humble knight like yourselves, a follower of King Arthur and the Round Table. I come to your land on an errand. I must meet the one who goes by the name of the Knight of the Green Chapel.

Morgan Le Fay

As he spoke, the noble Lord of the castle stepped out. He was tall, broad and handsome, splendidly dressed in an ermine-lined cloak.

Bertilak

Gracious Sir Gawain. The five pointed star on your shield speaks your name. My own is rather less renowned – though it is known well enough around these parts. I am Bertilak. You are most welcome here. Treat everything that is mine as yours ! Do with it what you wish ! My page boys will free you from your armour and bring you fine clothes. Then join us by the fire and warm your limbs.

[Fade up sound of fire and laughter and music]

Bertilak

My Lords, Ladies see I hold up my hood on my spear. I offer it as a prize to the one who makes us laugh the most this Christmas !

[music fades into bells ]

It is the midnight hour. The monks call us to mass.

[Sound of Chanting ]

Morgan Le Fay

Inside the chapel, Sir Gawain kneeled at the pew, and asked forgiveness for his sins that Christmas night. When he arose from his prayers, he noticed a lady who had joined the company of women. Although the others were fair, she was far fairer still. She was more beautiful than even Queen Guenevere, so he thought. And leading her by the hand was another lady, though quite different to look at. The one lady was in the ripeness of youth, the other was old and dry. The one wore bright pearls around her white throat and over her soft breast. The other covered her eyes and hair with a veil, and wrapped herself in a cloak. The one had delicate dewy lips, the other’s were purple and swollen. But if the young lady commanded respect among those around her, the older received sill more.

Sir Gawain

Good ladies. I am Sir Gawain. Let me be your knight. Allow me to serve you.

Lady Bertilak.

You may serve us with the art of your conversation. It is not often we have the pleasure of such courteous company.

Bertilak.

My wife longs for the courtly manners of Camelot. Out here in the sticks we barely know how to hold a knife at the table !

Sir Gawain

Lady Bertilak, I will do all I can to keep you entertained, but do not over expect. I am, at bottom, a man of action not words.

Morgan Le Fay

They spent the Christmas days in laughter, song and feasting. Among the ladies, the oldest, of whom I have spoken, took the place of honour at the table. Lady Bertilak was often at the side of Sir Gawain. They exchanged many glances and many words, though all of them quite proper. She seemed to delight in his conversation. He in her company. In truth, she diverted him from dark thoughts of the blow that he must receive. She made him feel that that this short life, though often brutal, had been worth living.

[Fade up some music]

Sir Gawain

Dear hosts. The last time I rejoiced so much and so freely at Christmas was when I was a boy. I thank you for these delights. But now it is time for me to leave your welcoming roof and to pick up my quest. I have sworn to meet the Knight of the Green Chapel this New Year’s morning, and just three more days remain for me to seek my destiny.

Bertilak

Leave? I will not hear of it. The chapel of which you speak is a mere two miles from here. It makes no sense to leave us so soon. Rest in comfort for three more days and on New Year’s morning, my servant will guide you to the Chapel of the Green Knight.

Lady Bertilak

I would not blame you if you are in a rush to leave. I quite understand if our company bores you. We cannot compete with the ladies of Camelot for refined entertainment, although we do our best to amuse our guests. But Sir, for my sake, if you value me at all, please stay.

Sir Gawain.

When a lady puts it like that, how can a knight refuse? My debt to you both for your welcome, is now greater still. I am at your service. I will do whatever you ask.

Lady Bertilak

I will have to think of some little service you can perform.

Bertilak

Since you will do whatever I ask, here’s what I suggest. Let’s have a little festive fun. In the morning I will set out hunting before dawn. You shall remain here, rest your limbs, and find comfort and amusement within the walls of this castle. In the evening, when I return, I shall give you whatever I have caught while hunting. And if you have gained anything good during the day, you shall give that to me.

Sir Gawain

A simple exchange. I see no harm in that.

Bertilak

Exactly. Now do I have your word as a knight that, win or lose, you will swop straight and true?

Sir Gawain

By the Holy Pentangle on my shield, I swear.

Bertilak

Then let us drink to our bargain !

You have been listening to the first part of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight adapted from the Medieval text for Storynory by Hugh Fraser.
The parts of Morgan Le Fay and Lady Bertilak was played by Natasha Gostwick.
The parts of The Green Knight and Lord Bertilak was played by Sam Freeman
And the parts of Sir Gawain and King Arthur was played was played me, Richard Scott

The second and final part follows shortly. For many more free audio stories, please visit Storynory.com

This charming medieval story shows that a true knight has more virtues than just courage. The hero, Sir Cleges, is generous, perhaps too generous. He celebrates Christmas in such style every year, that eventually he falls into poverty. When he is at his lowest ebb, cherries appear in his garden, even though it is snowy and out of season. His wife points him in the direction of the Court of King Uther, and he is on his way to restore his wealth.

For a detailed introduction see Teams Middle English Texts.

Read by Natasha. Version by Bertie. Duration 14.46

My Lords and Ladies, you shall hear of one who lived many generations ago, in the time of King Uther Pendragon, father of the famed King Arthur. I speak of a knight, hardy and strong, tall and fair, brave and noble. In all the world there lived no one as courteous, noble or generous as he. To land owners, who struggled in times of war, he gave gold. To poor farmers who rented lands from him, he gave food and good cheer. A spare place at his table was always laid just in case anyone might pay a visit to him.

This knight had a gentle wife, the best a man could wish for. No woman was more beautiful, or more noble in her heart than she. Dame Clarys was her name. Of goodness, she had truly. Together they brought gladness to many a soul. No man, rich or poor, felt any ill will against them.

Every year, Sir Cleges – for that was the name of this noble knight – would hold a feast at Christmas time. No King celebrated that day in greater style than he. Rich and poor came to his feast. He would turn away no man. Friars payed him with blessings, minstrels with music – those were the highest prices he would ask for his food. And when the feasting was over, the guests would not leave without gifts. He gave freely of robes, horses, silver and even gold. All this he did in honour of Him who was born in a manger on that day.

But his wealth dwindled with each passing year. He would not give up his feasting or his gifts. He let, mortgaged, even sold his lands to pay for his generosity, until at last he had almost nothing left. The Christmas feasting had to end. He lived meekly with his good wife and two children – and of luxuries, they knew no more.

One Christmas Eve, Sir Cleges was walking up and down in his garden, when he heard the sound of trumpets, pipes, drums, harps and cymbals. He could hear carols and dancing. The sound of merriment brought back memories of his past feasts and festivities. He knew well that the music came from the court of King Uther, who was at Cardiff for Christmas. But the King had not invited his loyal knight to join his table for the festivities. . He had either forgotten him, or thought that he was dead. Sir Cleges wrung his hands began to pray piteously:

“Oh Jesus, heavenly king, you made everything out of nothing. I thank you for times past, for the the merriment I used to make . I gave freely for your sake. I fed both rich and poor. Those who dined at my table did not lack for any meat or game, or good drinks. Of the cost I thought nothing. And now, here I stand, a poor man at your service, overlooked and forgotten by all mortal men, high and low.”

As he stood mourning so, his wife came to him, and enfolded him in her arms. She kissed him with glad heart and said,

“My true husband, I heard what you were saying. It does not help to have sad thoughts. So let your sorrow be gone. Every one should be happy on this day, and be glad with what they have got. So let us go inside, and be merry and eat our dinner joyfully. “

“Of course,” said Sir Cleges. And with somewhat better cheer he quickly wiped the tear from his cheek and went inside to eat his food. After they had eaten, they took great delight in playing with their two children. And at midnight they went to church and asked God to keep them clothed and fed.

On Christmas morning, Sir Cleges went into his garden. He kneeled on the snow covered ground before his favourite cherry tree, and prayed once again. When he had finished, he reached up for a branch to help him stand. As he arose, the bough broke in his hand. He noticed that it bore green leaves, and that there were ripe, round cherries clustered around it.

He said:

“Dear God. What manner of berries are these that grow at this time of year? And then he picked a cherry and tried it. It was the most delicious fruit he had tasted since he was a small boy. He cut off a little branch and took it to his wife to show her.

“My dear, here is a novelty,” he said. “I found these growing in our garden. Cherries in mid winter. I am afraid it is some ill omen, a warning to me for my sorrow and grieving. “

“Why no,” said his wife, “Rather it is a sign that goodness is coming to us. Tomorrow at first light, take the cherries to Cardiff and the King. He will have no better gift than this. “

When it was daylight, she prepared a large basket full of cherries. She told their eldest son to carry it on his back, and walk behind his father to Cardiff. And so they set off, not on a steed or pony, but Sir Cleges’ walking stick was his only support.

When they arrived at the gates of the castle, the porter saw his poor clothing and said :

“You shall turn around and leave smartly without delay, or by God and St. Mary, I shall break your head. Go and stand in the beggars’ row. That’s the place for you.”

But Sir Cleges said:

“Good Sir. I pray you, let me go in. I have a present for the King. Here look.”

And the porter went over to the basket and lifted the lid. When he saw the cherries he marvelled and said:

“If I let you pass, you must promise me a third of whatever reward the King shall grant you for this gift, be it silver or gold.”

And Sir Cleges replied : “I consent” and he went through the gate into the castle On his way to the banqueting hall he met an usher of the court who said:

“Go, vassal, get out of my sight, and if I find you again within these walls I shall beat your head and your limbs without a moment’s regret.”

At this, Sir Cleges said:

“Good Sir. Stay your anger. Be gentle and good. For I have brought a present for the King. See here, these fruits grew this Christmas season in my garden. They are the fairest cherries that ever man did see.”

And when the usher saw the cherries, he was amazed and said: “If you grant me a third part of what ever you may win for these, then you may indeed go on.”

And as Sir Cleges had no other choice, he agreed to the usher’s terms, and into the hall he went with his son and the basket.

As they entered the Hall, the Steward saw them. He went up to Sir Cleges and said:

“Who made you so bold as to come in here uninvited? Turn around smartly and get out.”

And Sir Cleges replied : “See, good sir, I have a gift for the King.” And when the Steward saw what he had brought he exclaimed:

“By Mary I never saw such fruits at this time of year. You shall go before the King, but only if you promise me a third part of whatever you shall receive.”

Sir Cleges stood and thought to himself that betwixt these three men, he would divide all that he received. For all his trouble he would win nothing. As he did not reply right away, the Steward demanded:

“Have you no tongue? Give me your answer without delay or I shall beat your rags with my stick!”

And seeing that he had no other choice, Sir Cleges said: “Very well, whatever the King shall reward, you shall have a third part.”

The steward brought Sir Cleges before the king, where he knelt and uncovered the basket:

“Great King,” he said. “These fruits grew in my garden this christmas time, and I have brought them to you as a gift. “

The King saw the cherries, fresh and new, and said: “Truly this is the work of our Lord.” And he commanded Sir Cleges to sit down and join the feast. The King sent a portion of the cherries to a radiant and fair lady in Cornwall, and he commanded the rest to be served around the hall. When all had eaten and were glad, the King commanded:

“Bring before me the poor man who gave me the cherries.” And Sir Cleges knelt again before the King. And the kind said:

“I thank you heartily for the gift you have brought me. It has honoured my feast. Whatever you will have, I will grant you. Whatever your heart desires, be it lands, or serfs or goods.”

And Sir Cleges replied.

“Great King. I ask nothing but 12 strokes of my stick that I might give freely to my enemies around this castle.”

On hearing this the King was angry and said. “I am sorry that I granted you this gift. Better that you asked for silver or gold, for you have more need of it. Nevertheless, if that is your wish, let my debt to you be paid with blows.”

And Sir Cleges went into the hall and sought the steward to give him his reward. He dealt him such a blow that he knocked him down. And then he gave him three more. On leaving the hall he found the usher and told him: “Here’s the third part of my gift that I promised you!” and he beat him four times with his stick. And then he found the porter and gave him his reward with the words. “I keep bargain. Take this, and this, and this and this!”

And while Sir Cleges was busy paying back his enemies, the King sat in his chamber and listened to a minstrel. The minstrel sang of a great knight who had served him in years past, one who was full of fortune, nobility and grace. His name was Sir Cleges. And as the king listened, memories came back to him, and he realised that he had seen the good knight that very evening.”

“Why, was that not him who knelt before me in the hall? “ exclaimed the King.

“Sire, indeed it was,” replied the minstrel.

When word reached the lords and ladies of the court of how Sir Cleges had paid back the porter, the usher and the steward, they all laughed heartily and thought that it was good sport.

The King called Sir Cleges before him, and this time he gave him lands, and forests, and a cup of gold to take to his wife. He made his son a squire and gave him fine clothes to wear.

Every year after that, Sir Cleges and his wife celebrated Christmas with good food, music, merriment and gifts, and they lived in great happiness until the Lord sent for them.

Text copyright Hugh Fraser (for Storynory) 2009.

The final part of our story of Eric and Enide combines romance and adventure in equal measures. The Knight Prince and his Princess set out across Dartmoor on a quest – but a quest for what? Neither of them seems to know. The perfect happiness of their fairytale marriage has already given way to quarrelling, and Eric seems more interested in his hurt pride than fighting off imminent danger.

You can catch up with the earlier parts of our long but exciting story from the time of King Arthur.

The Marriage of Eric and Enide
The Quest of Eric and Enide

Our Sources are Chretien de Troyes, The Mabinogion, The Idylls of the King by Tennyson (from which we quote).

Read by Natasha. Version By Bertie. Duration 25.40

Eric and Enide rode up and down over the moorland in silence. After a while the mist and the drizzle began to lift, but it was no clearer to Enide where they were going or why. Eventually she thought to herself:

“This is too ridiculous. He must tell me what this is all about”.

And so she spoke to her husband. He did not reply. She thought that perhaps he could not hear her because his armour covered his ears. She lent over and tapped him on the helmet. His visor was up above his face, but the look in his clear blue eyes was distant and uninterested in her.

“My Lord,” she said. “You told me that we are going on a quest. But may I ask just one question: a quest for what?”

But Eric did not tell her. Instead he said in a weary voice: “I ask only this. Ride on ahead and do not say a word to me. Whatever may happen, whatever you may see or hear, do not speak to me. ”

And having said that, he clamped the visor of his helmet down over his face.

Enide was not sure if she was more hurt or angered by this response, but she hurried ahead on her pony until she was some way further down the track. Although she was tired and sad, she kept a sharp lookout for any signs of life or jeopardy. She had heard tales of the strange beings that appeared on the moors: pixies, ghosts, headless horsemen, wild hounds, and robbers. And soon she realised that her intuition of danger was right – for she saw three knights watching them from the brow of the hill. They started to ride down the slope towards them: they looked far from friendly for they were coming at quite a pace and they held lances in their hands. She turned round to look for her husband – but he was riding far behind and did not seem to have noticed the knights.

“I must warn him,” she said to herself. “He told me not to speak, but this is a matter of life and death.”

And she kicked her heels into her pony to hurry down the track towards Eric as she called out: “My Lord ! My Lord ! We’re under attack!” But Eric did not respond.

When she reached him she said frantically : “Don’t you see those three knights – soon they will be upon us”

“So? What do you want me to do about it?” he asked. “Don’t you recall ? I’ve gone soft and effeminate.”

“Oh what are you saying?”

“Your words, not mine, darling.”

She calmed herself and tried to reason with her husband one more time:

“If you insist on arguing then very soon you will be dead and your wife will be taken prisoner by bandits. Is that what you really want?”

And with a grunt, Eric lifted up his lance and spurred his horse on to meet the attackers. One robber-knight rode out in front of the others; Eric drove his lance into his shield, and thrust him off his horse. He stabbed the second bandit the side so that he too fell from his mount. The third turned and fled, but Eric pursued the robber and caught up with him. They clashed sword to sword and very soon Eric killed his opponent. He gathered the loose horse and rode back to collect the mounts of the two other robbers.

“You can walk,” he said to them. “And be glad that you picked on an effeminate knight, or you might have finished up still worse.” The defeated robbers looked baffled by this statement. And as they left, Eric ordered Enide not to speak another word, even if the devil himself was coming to attack them.

And so they rode on. And when they reached the top of a hill, Enide looked down towards a river and she saw some men hurrying to hide in some trees by the track. She was sure that they were robbers and that they were setting an ambush for them. She felt alarmed and confused. Eric had told her not to speak – and yet she must warn him that they were in danger. She remembered that at her wedding she had promised to love honour and obey.

“I do love him,” she said to herself. “But if he’s being pig-headed, how can I honour and obey him? Of course I must warn him or we will both die.”

And so she did warn him. And he was furious.

“Did I not order you to keep silent?” he asked. “I give you but one command, and this is how you keep it!”

“My Lord, you did indeed tell me not to speak, but it is very hard when I see danger up ahead.”

“Oh faithless woman,” he muttered. And he spurred his horse onto the brow of the hill. Looking down from there he saw the clump of trees and bushes where the robbers lay in wait, and he charged down towards them. He disappeared into the trees and Enide wondered if that would be her last sight of her husband still alive. She heard the clashing of swords and shields, the whinnying of horses, and the cries of men. Ten minutes later Eric emerged from the trees leading five horses with empty saddles.

And when husband and wife met up again, neither said a word, although Eric seemed to be in better spirits – for no one could doubt his strength and valour after a victory over five men.

That night, Enide stayed awake to keep watch for wolves or robbers. While she sat by camp fire she looked at her sleeping husband, his broad shoulders, his huge arms and his thick neck, and she thought to herself.

“He is certainly brave and strong. And he is often kind and noble. But he was born a prince and has never had anything but praise all his life. Perhaps it is not surprising that there are times when he behaves like a spoilt child.”

When the sun rose, they saw that they had camped on the edge of a farm. Soon a boy came across them. He was carrying some food for the farm workers’ lunch. He hailed Eric and said:

“Good sir. I see that you and your lady are of noble stock. Let me take you to my master, for he loves to know when people of note are passing through. He will receive you in his palace and you shall stay in comfort and the best food and drink will restore you.”

Eric and Enide both gladly accepted the invitation. That day they rested on comfortable beds and in the evening they joined the Lord of the Manor for a dinner of roast venison.

And when Enide saw her host, she recognised him straight away. His name was Earl Limours, and two years before he had stayed in her father’s house, and had asked for her hand in marriage. Her father rejected him. He thought his manners were too smooth, and he didn’t trust Limours to take good care of his daughter.

Neither Enide or Limours said a word to show that they knew each other – and Enide was afraid that her husband would be jealous if he learned their history.

All evening Limours drank and jested a good deal, for he liked good company. And Eric also drank freely from the wine, though he barely glanced in the direction of his wife. Limours looked her way a good deal though.

When Eric was out of the room, he sat next to her and said:

Enide, my early and my only love,
Enide, the loss of whom hath turned me wild–
What chance is this? how is it I see you here?
Make me a little happier: let me know it:
Owe you me nothing for a life half-lost?

And, Enid, you and he, I see with joy,
Ye sit apart, you do not speak to him,
You come with no attendance, page or maid,
To serve you–doth he love you as of old?
For, call it lovers’ quarrels, yet I know
Though men may bicker with the things they love,
They would not make them laughable in all eyes,
Not while they loved them; and your wretched dress,
A wretched insult on you, dumbly speaks
Your story, that this man loves you no more.
Your beauty is no beauty to him now.

(Tennyson)

And as he spoke, Enide saw cunning in Limours’ eyes. She remembered that her father had not trusted this man’s charm. She sat silently, and he whispered to her:

“Come. I will set you free. Say the word and my men will fall upon your cruel husband while he is unarmed and unsuspecting. Then we shall at last be man and wife, as it was meant to be. ”

And Enide was greatly afraid that one of Limours men would stab Eric in the back before the evening was out. She could see no chance to warn him before they were alone together. And so she answered craftily:

“No. It will be bad luck to kill a guest at dinner. And although he is unarmed, yet he will put up a fierce fight. Better wait until dawn, and kill him while he sleeps.”

And Limours agreed that Enide’s plan was the safest and the best. When everyone was ready for bed, he bowed deeply to Eric and wished him the soundest of sleeps. And after Eric and Enide had gone up to their room, he boasted to his men that the lady did not love her careless husband, and had only eyes for him, her first true love.

Enide let her husband sleep a few hours, but she herself did not dare rest. While it was till dark she awoke him and told him what Limours had said and how she had tricked him to win a little time. And Eric thought to himself.

“So she does love me after all. Or at least, she prefers me to Limours.”

The couple slipped out the palace before dawn. But soon after sun rise, Enide thought she could hear the sound of hooves behind them. She turned saw a cloud of dust bristling with the points of lances. Limours and a large number of his men were after them.

She spoke to Eric: “My Lord. Look back. We are not out of danger yet,” and this time her husband did not scold her for speaking . He turned his horse and charged towards their pursuers. Enide thought to herself:

“Even he cannot defeat an army. Surely this time he will be killed and Limours will force me to become his wife. No. I would rather kill myself than marry that charm merchant.”

Limours rode out in front of his men and was the first to meet Eric. They clashed against one another’s shields with lances, and both fell to the ground. Soon they were back on their feet. Limours swung at Eric with his sword, but Eric ducked under it and cut his opponent on the leg between the joints of his armour. When Limours men saw their master fall, three of them came for Eric. They were on horse back and he was on foot. It was only a matter of moments before Eric would surely be dealt a death blow. But the wounded Limours called out.

“Men stop. Leave him be. My head was hot with wine and passion. I behaved ignobly to a guest. Let this knight go on his way with his fair lady, for that is how it should be. ”

And Enide thought that it was only by a miracle that her husband had survived this encounter. What she did not know was that Eric had been wounded, and beneath his armour, he was bleeding The sun shone down hotly, and the strength of his muscles was evaporating.

Eric was already wondering how much longer he could go on, when they both heard some piteous cries up ahead in some woods. He understood right away that it was the voice of a woman who was in great distress.

“Wait here,” he said to Enide, “I must go and help.”

And as he rode on ahead, Enide thought how if anything terrible happened to him, people would say that her husband died while coming to the aid, not of her, but another woman.

Eric found the young damsel – and she told him how she and her fiance had had been set upon by a giant, and now the cruel beast was dragging him away to his lair – whether to eat him or to demand a ransom from his father, she did not know.

“I will return the young man safely to you – or die in the trying,” said Eric. And as he rode on, he thought that it might be the latter. Not far ahead he caught up with the abductor: he was truly a giant – barely able to walk under the trees he was so tall. He was dragging his prisoner along the ground like a sledge.

Eric called out: “Ogre. Let him go.”

And the giant snarled. “Make me. ”

As Eric rode up to him, the giant grabbed his foot and yanked him off his horse. The huge beast brought his his club down onto Eric and dealt him a terrible blow. It was if a boulder had rolled off a cliff onto his his head. But perhaps by chance, Eric tripped the giant, and the beast fell onto the point of Eric’s sword. Eric thrust upwards. The creature belloed like an earthquake and staggered around before thundering onto the ground. Eric was so weak that he was barely able to pick himself up and help the young man onto his horse. In a semi-conscious daze he led him back down the path to reunite the lad with his maiden. When Eric finally got back to the place where Enide was waiting for him, he was blacking out and seeing only stars in front of his eyes. He fell off his horse with a great crash of his armour.

Enide untied his helmet and saw the wound in his head. She had nothing to wash it with, but her tears. And she felt that his body was frightfully cold.

“Oh no, dear husband, do not leave me,” she said. And despair came over her.

At noon, a huge red bearded knight found Enide weeping over the body of her husband. Her grief and tears did not detract from her beauty. He thought to himself.

“Here’s the damsel for me. And I am here just in time. This morning she belonged to this pile of limbs that is lying on the road. By this evening she will be mine.”

And he stepped down from his horse and tried to comfort the beautiful young woman, saying that he would take her back to his castle for protection, and that he was the most powerful man around these parts. His name was Earl Doorm.

Enide refused to leave her husband : but Earl Doorm told his servant to fetch a cart to carry the body back with them.

When they reached Doorm’s castle, Eric’s massive limbs were stretched out on the table of the main hall. Enide sat long hours by his side weeping and saying his name.

And her words reached into the mind the Eric. For he was not dead, merely in a deep state of unconsciousness. The sound of his wife’s voice brought him back from the brink of death. His first clear thought was:

“I love her… and she loves me.”

But Earl Doorm was growing impatient with Enide. He strutted up and down the hall until at last he pulled her away from Eric’s body and shook her:

“Tears will not bring him back.. Weep no more. The priest is on his way. First we shall have a funeral, and then a wedding straight after.”

“No, No, ” cried Enide, “I shall always love my Lord Eric. I shall never love another man so long as I live.”

And Eric heard these words but his eyes remained closed.

“Foolish woman! ” cried Earl Doorm. “Don’t you see? You are mine now.”

“Yours?” she said in amazement. “Never!”

“You shall be my wife within the hour. And you will learn to obey me even sooner, ” cried Doorm, and with that he struck her on the face.

Eric rolled off the table onto his feet and punched the Earl. Doorm staggered backwards, as much shocked as hurt, and Eric’s second blow laid him out flat.

They were surrounded by the Earl’s guards who looked on in amazement thinking that Eric was a ghost. One of them called out:

“The dead knight is risen.

Another said:

“It’s the devil himself”

And third cried:

“It’s the Apocalypse!”

Eric led Enide by the hand into the courtyard where they found a scene of complete panic with soldiers and servants running this way and that from the spectre of the dead knight.

Only a young serving maid kept hold of her senses. She did not believe in such nonsense as ghosts, and she hated the Earl with all her heart. She fetched a horse for Eric and Enide and wished them God’s speed.

Enide climbed up behind Eric, clasped her arms around him, and once more they rode away.
And they kept on riding over the hills until they met a knight.

“What is your name?” called the stranger. “Are you friend or foe?”

But Eric did not reply because he was still too feeble to speak.

“Tell me your name” called the knight again. “Or I shall challenge you.”

And Enide realised that if Eric did not reply, the other might take him for a robber. She called out:

“His name is Eric, Prince of Devon. He is grievously wounded. And what is your name?”

“I am Kay, a knight of King Arthur,” replied the other. “And the name of Prince Eric is held in great esteem by myself and all the knights of the Round Table. Now pray, follow me.”

King Arthur was camped not more than a mile away. When he heard that Prince Eric had arrived and was seriously wounded, he brought him to rest in his own tent. Serving maids washed Eric’s wounds with a healing ointment concocted by the wizard Merlin. He rested for three days, and all the time Enide stayed by his side. For a long while he did not speak. When at last he opened his eyes he said:

“We have found the object of our quest.”

“And what is that my dear?” asked Enide. And he replied softly:

“Love.”

In the first part of this story, Enide married Eric, a Knight of King Arthur’s Round Table. Now she begins her life with her ideal knight. She has dreamed that they will live “happily ever after” – but unlike most stories that end at this point, we go on and see if Eric and Enide really do live happily ever after.

For Enide’s lament we include some line’s from Tennyson’s poem The Idylls of the King. (The Marriage of Geraint).

Kindly sponsored by AudibleKids. Our book recommendation is “The Cat That Walked by Himself”.

Read by Natasha. Version by Bertie. Duration 16.40

While Enide was still living with her father in proud poverty, she had a dream. She could see a candle-lit chapel deep inside a stone castle.

A knight and a young maiden in a simple white dress knelt, heads bowed, before the alter. The knight wore a silk tunic over his broad shoulders. On his heels were golden spurs. His face was not entirely clear to her, but the bride was Enide.

It was a private, almost secret wedding, with only three or four of her husband-to-be’s closest comrades in attendance. The priest asked if she promised to love, honour and obey her knight, and she cast down her eyes and said softly, “I do”.

In her dream, she could feel joy filling in her heart at the certain knowledge that she would live happily ever after in the arms of her strong protector.

And it happened in life almost as in the dream – but it all happened so very fast. One day, a handsome knight did come to her father’s house. There had been others before him, like Cameron the Bent Nose and Ferris the Iron Fist. Their manners were rough, and they called her father “vassal” which meant “slave.” The worst had been Parkin the Small. When Enide brought him his beer, he leered at her with his yellow eyes. He said to her father:

“Your daughter’s a pretty one. I’ll give you two gold coins for her.” Her father ordered Enide to stay at the Convent until Parkin was gone.

But the latest knight was different. He treated her father, an old soldier, with great courtesy, and asked him all about the battles he taken part in. He praised the food and the drink, and happily ate the wood pigeon that her father had shot with his bow and arrow, and which Enide had plucked and prepared, before roasting it over the fire.

The next day the Knight fought in a tournament as the champion of Enide’s beauty. Then she rode behind him on his horse to Cardigan where King Arthur was holding court. That very evening they wed inside the castle chapel.

Her dream had come true. She was Lady Enide, wife of Sir Eric. And now she was beginning the rest of her life – only, she hadn’t dreamed about what would happen next. The castle and the court were so strange. She might as well have been in a far away country where she knew not one word of the language. She had no idea what was expected of her: when to curtsy, when hold out her hand to be kissed, when to stay back in the shadows.

Fortunately there was always something going on at court to distract her. There was a tournament in which all the Knights of the Round Table took part and fought each other. Enide sat next to Queen Guinevere to watch the knights on their the broad war-horses, the brightly painted shields, the fluttering banners, the ladies in beautiful dresses, the dust, and the blood. The tournament was a chaotic melee, quite frankly it was a brawl, in which knight fought knight almost at random. There was Sir Gallahad swinging at Sir Lancelot with a ball and chain. The ball demolished Lancelot’s shield into splinters, but fortunately did no damage to his skull before he could ride off. Queen Guinevere fanned herself with relief.

Enide’s eyes did not dare to leave her husband. When anyone came against him, she felt cold with terror on his behalf. But Eric’s lance propelled many an attacker from the saddle of his horse. When at last he himself was dragged to the ground, he stood up and bashed his opponent over the helmet with the flat side of his sword. Enide thought he was the strongest and bravest knight in the world, and quite possibly, she was right.

The king declared that Eric was the outright winner. And suddenly, Enide realised that everyone’s eyes were directed to her as his lady. Her cheeks flushed – and that made her all the more radiant. Eric rode up before her, and held in the reigns of his lively horse. Enide sat and gazed at her her ideal knight. Guinevere elbowed her in the side and said, “Stand up dear and hold out your hand to your husband”. She extended her hand, and Eric kissed it. The whole court cheered:

Eric and Enide, Eric and Enide, Hurrah !

That evening, Eric and Enide sat together before the fire. The serving maid filled their silver goblets with sparkling wine from the vineyards of Devon. And Eric said to her in a quite confidential voice.

“I have spent five years here in Wales, in the service of King Arthur. I have fought in twelve battles and more tournaments than I can count. That was all fine when I was alone, but this castle is no place for a delicate young girl. Very soon, my beauty, I shall take you away from this rough life – back to my father’s Devonshire kingdom. There you will find things are more comfortable.”

“Your father is a King?’

“Yes, my Princess, he is King – second only in wealth and power to King Arthur.”

On the morning of their leaving, Queen Guinevere embraced Enide and wished her the same happiness that she had found as Arthur’s Queen. Arthur presented Eric with sword and scabbard studded with precious stones. To Enide he gave six chests filled with  gorgeously embroidered dresses and bed covers.

Prince Eric and Princess Enide rode with forty knights and forty pages and serving girls. Their journey to Devon took five days, but as they approached the Eric’s home, word reached his old father that his son was on his way back from his service to King Arthur, and that he was bringing with him a bride of radiant beauty. The King said:

“My prayers are answered. Thanks be to God that I have lived long enough to see Eric’s safe return.”

He ordered that the way be prepared for them. The hooves of Eric’s and Enide’s horses trod over silks and tapestries strewn over the road. As they passed through the city, clouds of blossom rained down on them from high windows. The church bells rang out. Doves were released from towers. The people marvelled at the finest couple they had ever laid eyes on.

The only creature who didn’t seem to approve was a large dog who ran behind Enide’s pony and barked at the top of his voice. The pony took fright and kicked back with its hind hoof – but instead of hitting the dog he kicked an old man who was standing in the crowd. Eric jumped down from his saddle. The Prince helped the old man to his feet and asked him if any bones had been broken. Enide almost cried because her husband was so good.

Inside the keep of the castle, the King and Eric’s six younger brothers and sisters all embraced him in turns. The youngest sister, whose name was Ethel the fair, took Enide by the arm and told her:

“I thought that Eric would never a find a beauty to match his own good looks, but now I see you I see that he has indeed found a worthy match.”

Now Enide began the life of a Princess. Every day a duke or an ambassador or family member, brought her a new present. But it was her husband who out did all the others in his generosity. She had jewels, dresses, perfumes, ingenious toys, dogs, hamsters, sweet singing birds. In the evening there were dances, music and games. In the morning, she lay by Eric’s side until they rose at noon. In the afternoon there were walks through beautiful gardens, bathing in the spa, and gentle pony rides across the hills. But the sweetness of all these pleasures was that Eric was always at her service.

He was indeed her ideal knight. But he was so perfect that it was, perhaps, well, just a little bit frustrating at times. She tested his patience. When they were due to go out riding she kept him waiting for an hour while she dressed. Another time she told him to go back an change because his grey tunic did not suit him. But not once did she provoke a single scowl or reproach from him. Yes, perhaps he was too perfect. He never wanted to leave her side. When there was a tournament, he did not take part himself, but equipped his ten finest knights to fight in his place, and instead spent the time with her. He rarely went hunting. He did not go looking for dragons to slay. All his thoughts were of love, not war.

And people began to talk. Enide heard it first from the servant who was preparing her headdress. She asked her what Eric had been like when he was a boy: “Oh quite different my lady,” she replied. “Before he married he was much more interested in manly things like swords and javelins. Now it seems that he only has thoughts for you my lady.”

Some how this answer did not quite please Enide. She wondered if it was a good thing that her husband should be entirely devoted to her. She spoke to Eric’s sister who said that yes, she too had heard talk of how her brother had given up the life of a Knight. The people were comparing him to Paris, the Trojan Prince, who lay all day with Helen while the war raged around the walls of Troy. Even his brothers were growing impatient with him. These words greatly trouble Enide, though at first she made no mention of her worries to her husband.

At last one summer morning, as Enide lay by her sleeping husband’s side, she began to weep and lament softly:

Am I the cause, I the poor cause that men
Reproach you, saying all your force is gone?
I am the cause, because I dare not speak
And tell him what I think and what they say.
And yet I hate that he should linger here;
I cannot love my lord and not his name.
And yet not dare to tell him what I think,
And how men slur him, saying all his force
Is melted into mere effeminacy?
O me, I fear that I am no true wife.’ (Tenyson)

And as she wept, her tears fell onto Eric’s chest and face and awoke him. But his head was still fogged by sleep. He half heard her words and the understood only gist of what she said. And in this state of semi-awakedness he felt angry and betrayed that his wife should reproach him for growing soft and weak. Why, if it was not for him, she would still be a poor girl with a single white dress ! He had made her a Princess and his future Queen, and this was all the thanks he received ! Right through his body he felt a sharp pang that hurt far more than any wound he had received in combat.

He hurled his huge body out of the bed and turned and spoke to her in rage:

“Why you think I grow soft do you ! You long for a life of battles and hard blows do you ! Well make yourself ready, for we are setting out on a quest, you and I, and you shall learn the true meaning of your foolish words !”

An hour later, Eric was dressed in full armour on his war-horse. Under his arm he held a long sturdy lance. Enide sat on her pony. In her heart, she deeply regretted her words : “Oh why did I speak so?” she asked herself. “I had every happiness, and now I have lost it all through my foolishness.”

Eric and Enide rode out onto the moors . At first light rain fell down from the sky as softly as Enide’s tears. And then the air became filled with mist and she could hardly see the ground in front of her pony’s feet. Eric and Enide rode on, pursuing their quest. But a quest for what? Enide had no idea what her husband sought or what dangers and challenges they would meet on the way. But she knew that they had left their life of pleasure behind them.

And that’s the second part of our story. I’ll be back soon with the next instalment, in which we will find out what happened next in Eric and Enide’s journey through life.

In the meantime we there are loads more stories at Storynory.com – so drop by soon and listen to some.

The hero of this story is one of King Arthur’s brightest and boldest knights. The heroine is a beautiful girl who is so poor that she only owns one dress. It’s a story of action that celebrates courage and chivalry in which knights fight one another to prove by force that their maiden is the fairest of all. It’s a concept that might seem a little illogical today. The sequel, the Quest of Eric and Enide (to be published soon) will take a different point of view.

Read by Natasha. Duration 27 minutes. Version by Bertie following Chrétien de Troyes.

At dawn, on Easter Day, King Arthur stood on the battlements of his Castle at Cardigan in Wales. As he smelt the spring air, he recalled an ancient tradition known as the White Stag.

According to custom, on Easter Monday the King and his knights would go hunting, and who ever killed a white stag would win the right to kiss the fairest maiden at the court. The custom had fallen out of use, but Arthur thought to himself that is was right and proper for a great King to uphold tradition.

After chapel, the Knights of the Round Table gathered in the main hall of the castle. King Arthur announced that he would revive the custom of the White Stag. All were pleased to hear this news except for one – and he was Sir Gawain. Gawain was the most courtly and wisest knight of the Round Table, and none other, apart from the wizard Merlin himself was more trusted, or held in greater esteem, by the King. He spoke quietly to Arthur, so that none other could hear:

“Sire. No good will come from this hunt. He who kills the White Stag must kiss the fairest maiden at the court. But there are 500 beautiful maidens here. Each one is the favourite of some bold knight. Every knight will contend that his maiden is fairest and most noble, and will take grave insult if another is chosen. There will be quarrels and bloodshed.”

But although Arthur saw the wisdom of Sir Gawain’s words, he replied:

“I have spoken my intention. And a King’s words cannot be unspoken.”

The following morning, at daybreak, the knights rose from their beds. They dressed in light tunics, mounted their hunting horses, and set off for the forest carrying their bows and arrows. Queen Guinevere followed behind them on a white pony. A young maiden, the daughter of a Princess, rode by her side.

One of the knights, looked back and saw the Queen and her maiden following at some distance. He turned round his horse and cantered back towards them. He was young and handsome, and finely dressed in a fur-lined cloak, and a tunic of silk that had been woven in Constantinople. His spurs were made of gold, and his only weapon was a sword. His name was Sir Eric.

Eric spoke to the Queen saying that, if it pleased her, he would be glad to ride along with her. And Queen Guinevere thanked the young knight for his company, adding that she could have none better. Then they rode straight on to the forest.

Those out in front, were already chasing the stag. Some blew horns. Others fired arrows. The dogs barked. There was the risk of an accident, with so many  arrows flying through the air, and Sir Eric advised the Queen and her maiden to hold back for a while in a clearing.

While they were waiting, they saw a knight coming through the woods. He was fully armoured with a shield over his shoulder and a lance in his hand. Riding behind him was a beautiful maiden, while riding out in front of him, was a dwarf with a whip in his hand.

Queen Guinevere was very curious about this new arrival, and she sent her maiden to ride over and fetch him to her. The maiden rode ahead towards the knight, and the dwarf came to meet her. She spoke to him in a haughty voice:

“Let me pass, little man. I wish to speak to that knight.” But the dwarf blocked her way. When she tried to ride past him, he struck her on the arm with his whip. She cried out with pain, and rode back quickly to the Queen. Guinevere was quite astonished that anyone would be so bad mannered as to wound a young maiden with a whip.

“What shall I do?” she asked Sir Eric. And he told her to never mind, for he would go and talk to the knight. He rode up ahead, and found that his way too was blocked by the dwarf.

“Let me pass, you odious little man who would strike a lady,” he said. But the dwarf replied.

“Be gone. You have no business with my master.”

When Eric tried to ride past, the dwarf struck him over the ear with his whip. The wound stung bitterly. Eric was furious. He was sorely tempted to draw his sword and use it on the dwarf, but he held back, for the knight was fully armed, and Eric himself had no shield and was wearing nothing but his silk tunic. He could not protect himself against the lance of the knight. He decided to retreat. And he was wise to do so.

He rode back to the Queen.

“My lady,” he said. “I was unarmed and could not seek avenge against the knight. My weapons and armour were far away. But now I must rid myself of this shame, or increase it. I will follow the knight at some distance. At the first opportunity, I will borrow some armour and challenge him. Either he or I will pay for this insult with blood.”

And the Queen was sorry that the fine young man must risk his life on account of her honour, and she prayed that God might protect him from evil.

Meanwhile, King Arthur had killed the White Stag with his arrow. The hunting party returned to the castle and later that day the ladies and knights of the court gathered in the hall. All were talking about the choice that Arthur had to make. Who would he pick as the fairest maiden at court? Everyone knew that it would not be an easy choice. There were several knights who swore that they would challenge and fight the King if he did not choose their favourite.

Arthur held a private council with Sir Gawain and Queen Guinevere. Gawain looked grave and said he did not see how to avoid a challenge to the King, for many knights believed it was a matter of honour to defend their favourite’s beauty at the point of a sword or lance.

The Queen was still upset on account of the incident in the forest. She pleaded:

“My Lord. There is one noble knight who is not among us at court. He is Sir Eric, and he risking his life and reputation on account of my honour. I pray, let us postpone the question of the fairest maiden until either he returns, or we hear more unfortunate news of his fate.”

And Gawain agreed that it would be wise to wait a day or two to give time for the knights’ hot tempers to cool. Arthur listened to this advice, and he announced to the court that it would be unfitting to celebrate the feast of the White Stag until they had received news of Eric and his fate.

Meanwhile, Eric was following the knight, the dwarf and the maiden, to see where they might go. Towards late afternoon, they came to a walled town. He followed them through the gates, and saw that the people recognised the knight and his strange company, and that many came out to greet him. But nobody welcomed Eric, because none knew him.

The inns of the town were full of fine knights and their ladies, and Eric had trouble finding lodgings. Eventually, he saw an old soldier sitting on the steps of his house. He was poorly dressed, but he was strongly built and had a fine set of whiskers. Eric stopped to ask him if he knew of any lodgings that were not yet full, and the knight said:

“Why you must stay with me. What I lack in luxury, I can make up for in hospitality.” Eric liked the old man, and gladly agreed. He dismounted, and the soldier called for his daughter to come and take their visitor’s horse to the stable. The young maiden came out. She was wearing nothing but a shift and simple white dress, because they were the only clothes she had. When she saw the handsome young visitor, she blushed a little. Eric was astonished at her beauty. He thought that she was more beautiful than the most beautiful day. He would happily have gazed at her, but soon she was gone with his horse.

Later that evening, after a good dinner, Eric sat with his host by the fire. He asked him why was it that his daughter, who was so beautiful, wore nothing but a simple white dress. The solider replied:

“Noble sir. Poverty treats an old soldier unkindly. I cannot afford to buy her clothes to match her beauty. Even dressed as she is, she does not lack for offers of marriage. I have refused several lords and knights who wished for her hand, for I am waiting for a still better offer. But believe me when I say, her beauty is not her only virtue. Her heart is noble and wise as well. I know no greater happiness than when she is by my side.”

As much as it pleased Eric to hear about the young girl, he recalled that he had come here on a serious business. He asked his host if he knew anything of the knight who rode with a dwarf and a beautiful young maiden, and the old soldier told him everything that he needed to know. Every year, the town offered the prize of a fine hunting hawk to the most beautiful maiden. Andy Knight who claimed that his damsel was the fairest, must joust in a tournament. The victor had the right to give the hawk to his love.

For the past two years, the knight seen by Eric had crushed all who challenged him. His maiden had won the prize. He fought so fiercely, that this year, no knight would dare to come against him, and his maiden would once again be declared the most beautiful girl in town.

Eric replied immediately:

“I have a bitter quarrel with this Knight. I wish to challenge him for the hunting hawk. Good soldier, I ask you this favour. Allow me to be the champion of your daughter’s beauty. I will gladly fight on her behalf.”

The host could see that Eric was of noble spirit, and he replied that he would be honoured for him to fight on behalf of his daughter. And then Eric asked the soldier if he knew of anyone who could lend him a suit of armour – he did not care if it was old or new.

“Why I still keep a fine suit of armour !” declared the soldier. And he took Eric upstairs to show it to him.

The next morning, at day break, the young maiden helped Eric into his armour. She tied the iron protectors to his legs. She dressed him in the tunic of chain mail. She polished the helmet before placing it on his head. Finally, she buckled his sword to his waist. Then she fetched his horse. Eric put his foot in a stirrup and swung up onto it. She handed him the shield and the strong lance. Then the maiden mounted her father’s grey pony. She was still wearing her plain white dress, but even so she attracted many an admiring gaze from the people of the town. Eric rode in front of her, holding his lance upright, and sitting with perfect posture in his saddle.

All the people marvelled. “Who is this knight?’ they said to one another. “We have not seen him before. His maiden is surely very beautiful, but he must be a brave knight indeed to fight for her this day.”

But when his opponent led his dwarf and his maiden through the streets, all knew him. Some people cheered him, others came out and greeted him and wished him well. When too many people crowded in the way, the dwarf threatened them with his whip, and they soon let them through.

When they came onto the jousting field, the knight took his maiden to the place where the hunting hawk was sitting on its perch. He untied it, and held it up high on his arm. He said to to the maiden out loud so others could hear:

“Take this prize, for it is rightly yours. No damsel on this field exceeds you in beauty.”

But before she could take it, Eric rode up and called out:

“Damsel ! Hold back ! Take some other bird, for you have no right to this one !”

The knight was furious at this interruption, and he turned to face Eric.

“How dare you come between my beautiful girl and her prize!” he said. And Eric replied.

“This bird belongs to my maiden, for none can compare to her in beauty, not the even the sun nor the moon. And furthermore, her heart exceeds all others in wisdom and nobility.”

And the other said:

“It is madness that makes you say so. You will pay dearly for your foolish words.”

But Eric was not troubled by his threats and was more than ready to joust with the knight. The two men rode their horses in opposite directions, and then turned and faced each other for the charge. Then they spurred their horses towards each other at great speed. Each aimed their lances at the other. Both struck. And both fell backwards off their mounts onto the ground.

The knights sprang to their feet and drew their swords. They traded heavy blows, splitting shields and breaking helmets. Eric tripped, and while he was still rising back up onto his feet, his opponent swung his sword down on him, meaning to split his helmet open, but Fortune protected Eric, and although the sword broke off a piece of his helmet off the side, it missed his skull and Eric survived the attack. A moment or two later, he glanced over to where the maidens were standing, and he saw that both were weeping with fear for their heroes.

Both knights matched each other in ferocity, skill and strength. The battle went on for two hours, after which the other knight called out to Eric.

“We both grow weary. We do no justice to ourselves or our maidens. Let us rest and then renew our fight with full strength.”

And Eric agreed to stand back and rest. As he stood learning on his sword, he saw his girl in the white dress kneeling and praying piteously on his account. He recalled how his opponent had insulted his Queen, her maiden, and himself. He grew angry once again as he thought of the arrogant knight who was without honour or chivalry. Then he called out:

“Enough of this resting. Let us finish this sooner rather than later.”

And the other replied:

“Since you are in a hurry, prepare now to die.”

And both renewed their attack. But this time Eric had the better of the fight. He gave the knight such a blow on his helmet that he was stunned. And he followed that with three other blows. Now his opponent was lying half conscious on the ground. Eric pulled off his helmet and would have finished him off there and then had not the other cried out:

“Have mercy !”

And Eric held back his final cut. He said sternly,

“Wretch ! Since you plead for mercy I will not kill you, but you must acknowledge for all to hear that I have defeated you utterly and that my damsel is the most beautiful woman under the sun.”

The other hesitated, either because he was proud and stubborn, or because he was weak and short of breath. Eric once again held up his sword and the knight called out:

“Good Knight, hold back for you have defeated me utterly and your damsel is the most beautiful woman under the sun.”

At this, Eric stayed his sword. And the other knight asked:

“But pray, tell me your name and why you hate me so, for to my knowledge, I have not seen you before this day and have done you no harm or dishonour.” And Eric replied,

“I am Eric, a Knight of the Round Table. Yesterday in the forest, you allowed your dwarf to strike the handmaiden of my Queen Guinevere, and then to strike me, though I was unarmed. Now you are my prisoner. I command to swear an oath that you will do my bidding: Mount your horse and ride directly to the Castle at  Cardigan where King Arthur is holding court. Kneel before Queen Guinevere, tell her that I am safe, that I have defeated you, and accept whatever punishment she made judge fit for you.”

And the other, whose name was Yder, son of Nut, agreed to Eric’s terms and rode off with his dwarf and his maiden, taking the road for the Castle at Cardigan.

Then Eric presented the hunting hawk to his maiden in the white dress saying:

“Take this prize for your beauty inspired my victory. Truly, there is no face more lovely, no smile more lively, no human form more divine, than yours.”

And all agreed that she had rightly won the prize for beauty. That evening, the Lord of the Town invited Eric and his maiden to dine at his palace, but Eric refused saying that he must honour his host by staying at his house. And the Lord ordered his servants to bring a great quantity of fine food and wine to the soldier’s house, and that night many knights and ladies feasted under his roof.

Eric sat proudly by the young girl, who still wore her simple white dress, and yet outshone all the other ladies and maidens. When he had a chance, Eric spoke to her father and asked for her hand in marriage, which he gladly granted. Then Eric told him that his own father was a king, second only in riches and glory to King Arthur, and that he would make sure that the soldier and his wife were well looked after.

In the morning, he mounted his horse, and the maiden, whose name as Enide, sat behind him, her arms wrapped her knight, holding him over his heart. They rode full of joy to Cardigan, lingering only for kisses on the way.

Meanwhile that other knight had arrived with his dwarf and his maiden at Cardigan. The sentries on the battlements had recognised him from far off, and soon word reached Guinevere that the strange knight who had insulted her was heading for the castle. As he drew nearer, it became clear that he had been in a fight and was in a bad way. Guinevere wondered what news he brought. Was he coming to boast of how he defeated and killed her champion? Or was he coming as Eric’s prisoner, to beg for mercy.

He rode through the gates of the Castle, and asked for an audience with the queen. Barely able to walk he came up to her throne and knelt before her. He begged her pardon and her mercy. After consulting with Sir Gawain, she granted him her forgiveness on one condition – that he serve King Arthur as his knight. He readily agreed

A day later Eric and Enide arrived at Cardigan. There was great rejoicing. The Queen embraced the young girl, and when she saw that she was dressed in a simple white dress, she gave her a beautiful dress of her own. It was of green and gold, and Enide looked even more resplendent and beautiful. Directly afterwards, Eric and Enide were married in the chapel. That evening there was a magnificent feast in celebration. At the hight of the festivities, King Arthur called all to order and announced that he had reached his decision about the fairest maiden. He would bestow his kiss on Enide. She came before him, and the king kissed her gently and properly. He promised to love her as a friend.

All agreed that King Arthur had made the right choice, and not one knight came forth to challenge him.

And that’s the story of the Marriage of Eric and Enide. But their tale does not end with their wedding. I will be back soon with a second story about Eric and Enide, which will tell you what happened after they were married. And Bertie asked me to tell you that and early version of this story was written as a poem in old French, by Chretien do Troyes. There are is also a Welsh version in the Welsh collection of tales the Mabinogion, but in that version they are known as Geraint and Enid.