Do You Understand?

The Green Knight restates the terms of his agreement with Sir Gawain multiple times making sure that everyone in the court is fully understanding the words that are coming out of his mouth.

Sorry, Ma'am, but I'm not Gawain to sleep with you.

Dear diary, can I vent to you? Of course I can. You're a notebook I place emotional value in because you give me a medium to release stress, you aren't capable of judgement. Sorry, diary, but those are facts. Anyway, it's nothing too serious. It's just something that happened during my last quest. I do love quests, it's why I became a knight after all. Even better, it was basically a three day vacation.

While the knights and men of the kingdom went out on my hunt, I got to spend three days doing whatever I wanted. And what did I want? Peace and quiet. I surely didn't want to be propositioned for anonymous sex, I can tell you that much. It seems like everywhere I go women are just throwing themselves at me. Hello, does an oath of chastity mean anything these days? I guess that's what I get after volunteering to be in all those knight of the month calendars, but how could I pass up being Mr. December? There's no better Christmas present than these good looks, it's the gift that keeps on giving for Christ's sake! Shit. I'll have to confess that one.

So there I am on Monday morning. It's almost noon, who cares? I was sitting in bed not doing a damn thing when this woman walks in. She's gorgeous; tall, strawberry hair, most of her teeth and with breasts of the purest... rich like... uh... they were pretty cool. She was also the wife of one of the dear huntsmen. Great guy. She comes over and, without any small talk about the weather, immediately professes her lust for me and her desire to take me to the stables, sheath excalibur, other blatant sexual innuendos. What torture. Not only is she married to Robert, one of my high school rugby teammates, but she lusts for me. LUSTS.

You know me, diary, I'm not a lust guy. I'm love or nothing. Either way, she was determined. I was the great Gawain, after all; a man who's looks, courtship and virtue were known far and wide. I wish I was known for my interpretive dance, but sex appeal is good enough, I guess. It took me hours, but I was finally able to convince her that I was not worth the blemish on her marital vows. She had to have something, though, and before she got up, started to kiss me. I'm not proud of this, but I kissed her back, because what was I gonna do, not?

After that I get on with my very important and rudely interrupted plan to sit on my ass all day until dinner. Then, at night, the men get back, they throw me a feast, yadda, yadda, yadda. At least I was able to put off Bob's wife, right? Wrong. Each of the next two mornings she comes back into my room begging me yet again. Lady, if you're that pent up, just fantasize while reading 50 Shades or something, sheesh.

Luckily for me, I'm a master not only in swordplay, but wordplay. I'm not going to lie to you, diary, it wasn't easy. The third morning she went all out: a jeweled hairnet, her finest and most revealing gown, she was reading me like a book. Nonetheless, I was able to keep her at bay once again, though this time she demanded a three kisses and a gift. A gift? What do I look like, a Disney store? When I told her I had no gift that would match her value of grace, she was unbothered. First she tried to give me her ring. I declined partly because I'm not a huge ring guy and partly because I think Bob bought it for her. She wouldn't let me leave without anything, so she gave me her girdle. Weird gift, right? Well it gets even weirder. She says that it grants the power of immortality to the wearer. Now, I'm not usually one to trust the words of a scorned lover, but I'm also kinda in desperate need of some immortality, so I took it and went on my merry way, hunts haul by my side the very next morning. Worst comes to worst I can re-gift it, I guess.

Well, that's all I have, diary, thanks for listening. It's not like you really had a choice, what with being an inanimate organization of tree byproducts, but I appreciate it nonetheless. Gee, I really hope archeology isn't invented because I sure wouldn't want any sick future-perverts getting their hands on you and besmirching my good name.

Winter Weather Wonderland

In Part IV of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, landscape plays an important role when Gawain travels with his companion to the Green Chapel. The passage I’m interested in starts in stanza 4 at line 2077. We know we’re in winter thanks to phrases like “wintry season” (2085) and “snow all before the eyes” (2088). Winter usually signifies things like rest or death, which already feels ominous. Specific words and phrases within the passage about the landscape and the weather push this feeling even further.

The weather contributes to a sense of mystery: “Mist swarmed over the moors, then merged with the mountains” (2080). The mist is covering areas of the land, concealing them and blurring the lines between moors and mountains. Nothing is clearly defined, much like the Green Knight, who is still a question mark to Gawain and anyone who doesn't know what is coming next. The alliteration of the “m” sound in this line is rhythmic and spell-bounding. It pulls the reader further into the story and further into whatever may be lurking in this landscape.

Of course, we later come to find that the Green Knight is not exactly who or what we imagine him to be, which makes the threatening and omnious feelings evoked by this landscape a bit ironic. However, since the landscape is so hazy and mysterious, the landscape still foreshadows in this moment that maybe, just maybe, things aren't what they seem.

Infant Grown Man

On pg. 328 when Merlin's mother was weeping to him about how she was doomed to die was very powerful and I felt truly saddened by her ordeal... until Merlin, WHO IS ONLY 9 MONTHS OLD, had this to say to reassure his mother. "Dear mother, do not be afraid; you will never die on my account." 

Merlin's mom reaction: 

Okay! We Get It!

Legend as History

The following quote is from Giraldus Cambrensis's On the Instruction of Princes (De instructione principum):

The burial place is now known as Glastonbury, and in ancient times it was called the Island of Avalon. It is indeed almost an island, being surrounded by marshes; and so in the British language it was called Inis Avallon or Apple Island, since apples grow there in abundance. Then too Morgan, the noble matron and lady-ruler of those parts, who was closely related by blood to King Arthur, transported Arthur after the Battle of Kemelen [Camlan] to this island, now called Glaston, to heal his wounds. In the British language it was once called Inis Gutrin (that is, Glass Island), and for that reason the Saxons dubbed it Glastonbury since Glas means "glass" in their tongue, and bury is "city" or "camp."

This quotation stands out to me due to the way it blends history and legend. Giraldus writes as if it is a given that Arthur and Morgan lived and died as in the stories, and focuses on changes in place names over time. The way he explains Avalon's different names and where they come from is similar to how someone else might explain the different names of New York City or Istanbul. I think it shows that it is important to keep in mind as we read whether the author of a text considered Arthur to have existed, for that will affect how the author presents the material.

Wilhelm, James J. "Arthur in the Latin Chronicles." The Romance of Arthur, edited by Norris J. Lacy and James J. Wilhelm, Routledge, 2013, pp. 1-7.