excellent beyond all others existing under heaven,’

he cried.

‘Yet all were charmed and changed

by wily womankind.

I suffered just the same,

so clear me of my crime.’

‘But the girdle,’ he went on, ‘God bless you for this gift.

Not for all its ore will I own it with honour, 2430

nor its silks and streamers, and not for the sake

of its wonderful workmanship or even its worth,

but as a sign of my sin – I’ll see it as such

when I swagger in the saddle – a sad reminder

that the frailty of his flesh is man’s biggest fault,

how the touch of filth taints his tender frame.

When my pulse races with passion and pride

one look at this love-lace will lessen my ardour.

But I will ask one thing, if it won’t offend:

since I spent so long in your lordship’s land 2440

and was hosted in your house – let Him reward you

who upholds the heavens and sits upon high –

will you make known your name? And I’ll ask nothing else.’

‘Then I’ll treat you to the truth,’ the other told him,

‘Here in my homelands they call me Bertilak de Hautdesert.

And in my manor lives the mighty Morgan le Fay,

so adept and adroit in the dark arts,

who learned magic from Merlin – the master of mystery –

for in earlier times she was intimately entwined

with that knowledgeable man, as all you knights know 2450

back home.

Yes, “Morgan the Goddess” –

I will announce her name.

There is no nobleness

she cannot take and tame.’

‘She guided me in this guise to your great hall

to put pride on trial, and to test with this trick

what distinction and trust the Round Table deserves.

She imagined this mischief would muddle your minds

and that grieving Guinevere would go to her grave 2460

at the sight of a spectre making ghostly speeches

with his head in his hands before the high table.

So that ancient woman who inhabits my home

is also your aunt – Arthur’s half-sister,

the daughter of the duchess of Tintagel; the duchess

who through Uther, was mother to Arthur, your king.

So I ask you again, come and greet your aunt

and make merry in my house; you’re much loved there,

by me more than most, for as God be my maker

your word holds more worth than most anyone in this world.’ 2470

But Gawain would not. No way would he go.

So they clasped and kissed and made kindly commendations

to the prince of paradise, and then parted in the cold,

that pair.

Our man, back on his mount

now hurtles home from there.

The green knight leaves his ground

to wander who knows where.

So he winds through the wilds of the world once more,

Gawain on Gringolet, by the grace of God, 2480

under a roof sometimes and sometimes roughing it,

and in valleys and vales had adventures and victories