THE SCENE: When Sir Gawain saw his young ward Chastelayne slain in battle, he flies into a whirlwind of bloody revenge.
THE TEXT: Then Gawain’s gray eyes were wet with weeping
Because that brave boy was but a beginner in battle;
Sadness at his falling filled his face,
And chill tears ran in channels down his cheeks.
“Woe is me,” cried Gawain, “that my wits were found wanting.
Every penny I possess I promise to stake
In my vow to avenge the villain who wounded him.”
Then dolefully he armed and dashed toward the Duke,
But one Sir Dolphin the Dauntless came driving in;
Sir Gawain spiked him with his grim spear
So the sharpened shaft went shooting to his heart.
Eagerly he hit out and hurt another,
The heathen, Hardolf, excellent in arms,
Wounding him wickedly right through his windpipe,
And the spear that he help slipped from his hands.
On that slope, some sixty fierce soldiers he slew
By his knightly skills, and they slid to the swamp.
And though Gawain was grieved, he watched and waited,
Till he witnessed the one who had wounded the lad,
And swiftly with a sword he swiped him clean through
So he dropped on the field and died where he fell.
Then he rode into the host, hacking through helmets,
Riving off rivets and ripping through shields,
Causing carnage in the ranks but keeping his course,
Rampaging through the rearguard and riding onward,
Then reigning back, that right royal battler,
And returning to the ranks of his own Round Table.
– The Alliterative Morte D’Arthur, 15th Century AD
