“Let’s See How You Smite”: The Challenge of Attaining Fidelity in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

Analysis

Gawain’s fate is set in motion from the instant he offers to take Arthur’s place, eager to prove himself to an intimidating king and a careless court. To Arthur, he reasons that, “only because you are my uncle am I to be praised… no virtue I know in myself but your blood” (356-357). This is the reader’s first introduction to the dissonance between the court’s perception of Gawain and his own self-image: while Gawain knows himself to be untested- and therefore, to some degree, untrustworthy- the members of high society (both within Camelot and the Hautdesert castle) seem to be overwhelmingly convinced of his “excellence and valor” (912), to the point of shallowness and condescension. Though Gawain views the state of his honor as a matter of utmost importance, the majority of Camelot seems to consider his quest unnecessary: as he prepares to undertake a journey that will determine the very fate of his self-conceptualization, the witnesses to his departure simply grieve for his “handsome[ness]” (674) and remark, “…what a pity indeed [t]hat your life must be squandered, noble as you are!” (674-675). Gawain does not consider his fate a “pity”, nor would he disdain the sanctity of the chivalric code by describing his quest as a “squander[ing]” of life. What is life, without honor? Is there any death less wasteful than one which contains within it a kept promise? The Exchange of Winnings and the Christmas Game therefore, work dually upon Gawain, not with the intention of sabotaging his virtue, but for a significantly more tragic purpose: opening his eyes to the futility of dying for honor in a world that is unentertained by martyrs.

Just as the Christmas Game involves two parts (Gawain’s blow, then the Green Knight’s blow), The Exchange of Winnings can be thought of as having two distinct but inextricable components: the true, public Exchange of Winnings, and the private, intimate Binding Game. Regarding Lady Bertilak’s threat to, “…imprison [Gawain] in [his] bed” (1211) during the initial seduction scene, translator James Winny references Hock Monday (also referred to as Binding Day) in a footnote, describing it as a, “traditional game… consist[ing] of seizing and binding men, who were released after paying a small sum of money”. In the context of Sir Gawain, while the Exchange of Winnings is a contest of mutualism, the Binding Game is a contest of manipulation. The rules of the Exchange of Winnings are clearly stated- what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine- but the rules of the Binding Game are unspoken and obscure. However, the seduction scenes can be broadly taken as following the same rules that the lady offers up in her first visit to Gawain’s bedroom, as she tells him, “… unless we agree on a truce, I shall imprison you in your bed” (1210-1211), and, “… chat with my knight whom I have captured” (1225). In this way, the Binding Game involves the (somewhat affectionate) capture and imprisonment of Gawain by the lord and lady, and their continuous extortion of him as a plaything. However, the existence of the Binding Game raises the question of how Gawain’s agency presents within the poem. While on the first day Lady Bertilak takes Gawain by surprise, slipping beyond the bed-curtains and “wait[ing] there strangely long to see when he would wake,” (1194)- the careful ploy of a hunter trying not to spook a deer- in the later temptation scenes Gawain’s initial unawareness of her scheme is no longer a suitable defense. The next morning, rather than dress himself or leave the confines of the bedroom, Gawain simply “…lies in his bed… happily at home amid bright-colored bedding so rich” (1469-1471), as if awaiting her company. It is not an unfair assumption to make: the cat-and-mouse game she embroils them in is arguably as important to him as it is to her, and he is a willing (if somewhat passive, although by necessity) participant. The poet takes care to remind the reader that both players feel only “delight” (1553) and “playful[ness]” (1764) in each other’s company. While the lady’s presence might cause Gawain turmoil, he takes pleasure in performing the role of the spider caught in her web; and it is for this same reason that he is so easily encouraged by his host to wear the lord’s luxurious clothing, to lounge in his luxurious bed, and to enjoy the company of his beautiful wife: Gawain knows that honor must be earned, not passed down by bloodline or given freely like a gift. He wants to be trapped so he can claw his way out; he wants to be disarmed so he can win his armor back. He yearns for temptation so he can deny it and prove his fidelity.

The Bertilaks provide the perfect opportunity for this- stern, coy, and shameless- and perhaps this is why he is truly “disarmed” around them: not because he believes he’s safe from threat, but because he trusts them to grant rewards for good behavior and punishment for bad. To Gawain, the rules of the trials are simple: he must allow himself to be tempted, but never seduced, lest he suffer the disapproval of either of his hosts. If he does not indulge the lady, he risks upsetting her; if he acts uncouthly, the lord is more than capable of teaching him a lesson. Losing the game would, of course, be unthinkable, but there is safety in the promise of real consequences for real misdeeds: that, to Gawain, is the double-edged sword of fidelity. His great shame at the end of the poem lies not in his failure but more so in the fact that he fails and gets away with it; when he declares himself “false and unworthy” (2382) and begs the Green Knight for a chance to “regain [his] trust” (2387), he is laughed off like his honor means nothing. In the company of the Bertilaks, however, the dual threat of pleasure and peril is intoxicating because it seems to assure recompense.

This is a poem about reciprocity, or, more fittingly, the lack of it. Gawain’s oath of fidelity effectively binds him to every person he encounters throughout his journey- Arthur, the Bertilaks, the Green Knight- but what is commonly overlooked in regards to Sir Gawain is that the other characters are bound to him as well. Gawain owes loyalty to those for whom he pledges his service, but this pledge goes both ways; the “endless knot” (630) of fidelity implicates the Green Knight and the Bertilaks as surely as it implicates Gawain. Where Gawain owes Arthur his allegiance, Arthur owes him guidance; where Gawain owes the Bertilak’s his service, they owe him hospitality; where Gawain owes God his devotion, God in turn owes him (as the chivalric code claims) protection. The University of Michigan’s Middle English Compendium defines “trecherie” (also spelled “tricherie”, as it is in Sir Gawain) as betrayal or faithlessness, specifically a faithlessness to an oath or a “sacred obligation”. In a narrative driven forward by faith and fealty, the other characters’ failures to respect the sanctity of an oath inform the tragic tone of Sir Gawain. Gawain is not reckless or stupid, but he is, perhaps, naive (although because it is such an endearingly human flaw the reader can “…blame [him] the less” for it, as the Green Knight says). The deception that Gawain experiences effectively shatters the pact of mutual loyalty that he believes in so deeply: if his word means nothing to other people, proving his goodness becomes an impossibility.

This terrible truth is encapsulated in the stark horror of Gawain’s return to Camelot at the culmination of the poem: though Gawain returns bearing a “…stain [that] can never be lifted” (2512), the court’s response is to laugh and revel in Gawain’s failures, as if Gawain’s honor is in itself a joke of no real consequence. In every way possible, Gawain’s search for fidelity ends in humiliation. By failing to act according to chivalric code, he has “stained” his name, and by extension Arthur’s name; by avoiding his fate he has done irrevocable damage to his faith in fidelity; and by having his defeat heralded as a comical anecdote by his kinsmen he can no longer be oblivious to their lack of concern for his integrity. His shame is further compounded by the too-late realization that, throughout the entirety of his relationship with the lord and lady, he never truly met their match: his actions in the castle scenes come from a mistaken belief that they are three equals playing a coy, thrilling cat-and-mouse-game; however, in reality the other two had been playing chess while he had proudly and foolishly lost at checkers. The girdle itself acts as a symbol of this presumption as, ironically, Gawain wears the lord’s own clothing to the chapel (without even knowing it, he’s been tagged, collared, and delivered by the lady to her husband like a hunting prize or a domesticated pet).

Gawain’s great failure lies not in a lack of faith in God or respect for the code he serves. Rather, as the Green Knight says of him, “… only here you fell short a little, sir, and lacked fidelity, [b]ut that was… because you wanted to live: so I blame you the less” (2366-2368). His acceptance of the girdle within the seduction scenes is a momentary lapse in his conviction, and a fruitless one at that; he still believes so deeply in fidelity that he takes no comfort in the false promises of the lady. In reality, despite the supposed “power” [1849] of the girdle, the instant the lady leaves him after he has accepted her gift, he rushes to the chapel to hear the priest “… instruct him more clearly [h]ow his soul could be saved when he leaves this world” (1878). Furthermore, when Gawain sees the Green Knight for the first time since the initial beheading, the poet describes the Knight’s ax as, “…four feet across- no less than that, despite the gleaming green girdle” (2225-2226). This addition foreshadows the girdle’s lack of protective ability- it doesn’t actually stop the ax from wounding Gawain on the third blow- as well as to further indicate Gawain’s lack of faith in any sort of meaningful power within the garment. The girdle is functionally useless for Gawain because, despite his moment of failure, he doesn’t really believe in magic, or trickery, or cheating: he believes in honor. He believes that if he is composed in the face of temptation, if he maintains his dignity and his chivalry, then God will protect him, as He does all good knights; therefore, by succumbing to the lady’s manipulations and betraying his fidelity, he has traded away the only force that could truly protect his soul in exchange for a meaningless object.

Conclusion

Furthermore, the “gleaming green girdle” line mentioned above serves to ironically contradict one of the main motifs of the poem regarding the constancy of destiny. The size of the ax does not shrink despite the promise of safety. Its capacity for destruction does not wax or wane, regardless of whether Gawain believes he will be spared or not. Throughout the poem, violence and mercilessness approach on the horizon, and Gawain must come to terms with the inevitability of the threat he is facing; however, at the last minute this idea is entirely subverted. The fate that Gawain expects- and on some level, desires- is all an illusion, and this mortifies him. Importantly, however, Gawain’s actions do not reflect a crisis of faith in his code or his kingdom, nor does he trade away his fidelity like it is nothing. Rather, fidelity is everything to him- the only thing worth more is his life, as the Green Knight admits- and for this reason, it seems understandable that on some level when he comes to the chapel he does not want to be saved.
Ultimately, Gawain wants to believe in a world where actions have consequences, where chivalry is the difference between life and death, where “… whether kind or harsh [a] man’s fate must be tried” (564-565). The alternative is unimaginable. If due punishment can be avoided simply because Gawain’s foe deems his company enjoyable, then where is the sanctity in honor? If he can sin and get away with it, then where is God? If no one else seems to care about Gawain’s fidelity, is he even capable of “earning” anything worth being proud of? In both the Exchange of Winnings and the Christmas Game, Gawain relies on discipline to justify devotion to his causes. Goodness must be earned. Virtue must be proven. Despite the girdle, despite everything, Gawain still flinches when the Green Knight swings his ax because he wants to believe in the inevitability of his punishment.