Forgotten Ground Regained
Excerpt from a Dramatic Adaptation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
by Simon Corble
I am happy to present to readers of Forgotten Ground Regained an excerpt from Simon Coble’s adaptation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight into an alliterative verse drama. The excerpt – necessarily short – focuses on one of the key scenes in the play. Sir Gawain has been staying at a castle – which is, unbeknownst to him, the stronghold of the Green Knight with whom he made a very unfortunate bet. He must find the Green Knight before New Years Day, in order to give the Green Knight the chance to return what Gawain gave him at the start of the poem: a blow with a powerful axe, which the Green Knight magically survived. In the scene I excerpt in this journal, Gawain is being tempted and tested by the Green Knight, Sir Bertilak’s, wife. Thus far he has successfully resisted temptation, like a fox evading the hounds, even as Sir Bertilak has been absent from the castle hunting lesser prey. And so the Green Knight’s wife, whom the play names Alison, must find a way to get past his guard.
The scene is Sir Gawain’s bedchamber in the Castle of Beaudessert. It is early morning, Sir Gawain and the Lady Alison, (his host’s wife) are alone. In a parallel setting, The Hunt, led by Lord Bertilak, are pursuing a fox through the forest.]
GAWAIN: A kiss then, come.
They kiss a second time; a cool one from Sir Gawain.
Photographs by Michael Pollard
ALISON: I know you may not in naked words speak; But I’ve heard enough half-truth to hazard a guess That your mission tomorrow has more than a little To bear on your being in such a bad mood With me: You love me – that I know; Its truth is plain to see; And I love you, what though Our fates are far from free.
And Alison gets up to go, but quite, she can’t.
My love, before I leave, let me have something; Any gift thou canst give; a glove, or anything, That I might remember and mourn thee less.
GAWAIN: I wish I had with me, well – what might I wish for? … The loveliest thing in the land, my lady; For you deserve, for sooth, simply and fairly, More reward by rights than my reach can grasp. I am here on an errand in unknown lands And I brought no baggage to burden myself. And miserable as it makes me, to be so mean as this Yet a man must make the most of a lot like mine –
ALISON: Don’t worry, you have no cause, It shall not make me pine; Though I have nothing of yours, Yet you shall have nothing of mine.
Receive thou this rich ring, or red-gold works, With a star-like stone standing aloft, That bears blushing beams, bright as the sun.
GAWAIN: O I wot well it is worth a wealth full huge, Yet I am loath , my love, and reluctant, you see, For I’ll gather no gifts of gold at this time, Having nothing of merit to name in return.
- wot: to know, 1st person singular, present tense. From the original poem and generally in Middle English. From Old English ‘witan’ to know.
- loath: unwilling. To rhyme with “both”.
ALISON: Well, if you refuse my richest ring, As you’d not be so highly beholden to me, I shall give thee my girdle of greenest silk; Though it were unworthy, I wish thee to have it.
GAWAIN: No, no, I cannot - I know you’ll understand – Neither gold nor silk of green, as God gives me grace, Before I have faced the fate He has framed, And achieved my goal at that Chapel of Green. For secrecy’s sake, explain it, I can’t. Therefore, now, I pray you, displease you nought; And, Alison, please…promise to probe no deeper. Nor foist on me further; for refuse you I must, Again. I am down as already your debtor, For all of the favours you’ve given And shall be your servant forever; On Earth, in Hell, or in Heaven.
ALISON: Now forsake you this silk – forsooth? I suppose, In itself it is simple; at least, it seems so. Lo! It’s so little; the least thing of worth. But if a man were made ‘ware of the magic herein, Then pr’aps he would prize it expensive and rare.
GAWAIN: Magic? What magic do you mean, my lady?
ALISON: If a guy is girded with this green lace, As long as he clasps it closely about him, No arm on earth may hack him to death With steel, nor slay him, by sleight, at all.
GAWAIN: Well, isn’t that interesting?... Incredible almost. I mean, wouldst thou have thought such a thing had power?
ALISON: And I wanted you to wear it, Wawen, for mi sake, But I understand, if your honour’s upset...
- Mi: my. With short vowel, as in “hit”. Northern English dialect & in the original poem.
GAWAIN: No, wait. If you make me, I’ll have it – it might come in handy – Who knows?
Sir Gawain takes hold of one end of the silk.The hunt is now here, as if on cue.
HUNT: To hear then the hounds, the heart was made glad.
(Chorus) The main pack now meet him, merging together; Such insults were slung him, like stones at his head, As all the clambering cliffs had clattered in heaps – “Halloo! Halloo!” the hunters all holler, Threat upon threat and “Thief! Thief!”
ALISON: But be careful good Gawain And see that no one knows; Fasten it in such fashion That not a shred of it shows.
She lets go her end of the magic green girdle.
GAWAIN: But, Alison, by mine honour, I have an agreement –
ALISON: No – No one must know! Especially – Not my husband. Tha’ must hide it from him, or he’ll suspect.
- Tha’: thou. Used to friends, loved ones, children and anyone of lower status.
GAWAIN: Suspect what, my lady? Woman! – What are you saying?
ALISON: If he found that we’d flirted – well, as far as this, His jealousy would drive him to a dreadful rage; Thy life, thy limb, my love could not save. I know him. He is noble, yet he’s not all he seems.
GAWAIN: Oh, Alison. Oh Angel. By all that is holy!
And Gawain holds Alison to himself, as the huntsmen are running:
HUNT: With the trailers at his tail, he’s no time to tarry; Oft he is run at, yet Reynard runs onward! The lord and his men are left limping behind And on in this manner; from morning while noon, They run and they run….and run again! [They are gone]
- Reynard: traditional name for the fox, also from the original poem.
- hile: until. Northern dialect; as in, “The shop is open nine while five”.
Copyright ©Simon Corble, 1991-2024
First published in Forgotten Ground Regained: A Journal of Alliterative Verse, New Seres, Issue 4, Fall, 2024