Sir Gawain was riding again on his horse towards the Green Castle. He was wroth and ashamed that the same instruments of his testing would give him a dishonorable way of getting out of the challenge that he had taken. How could they assert that he would not amply face the Green Knight on his own without the use of some magical belt? He couldn’t bear with himself the praises from the entire King Arthur’s table devoting to praising him for a dishonorable act. His honor must stay intact because he was a knight.
So he rode his horse even harder. He would challenge the Green Knight once again. Even if it would take another year to do this, he must do it. He saw how his name would go without the proper honor as he was noted down in history, and he was out to change history’s hand. It had been five years, and his soul was not rested ever since. The thought that kept pulling at his mind like several daggers in his chest was the dishonorable name that his acts would bring to the knighthood. He went ahead to try and cheat death by his acts to receive the belt. He didn’t exchange it as was the agreement with the Bertilak and his heart was never settled about that. As a youth, he was taught to be honorable to become a knight – all the qualities of a man that common people may not easily afford themselves.
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So this journey was for his name, his glory. But as he rode, he wondered if surely he would again defeat the Green Knight should he decide to become something else this time around. He had left the magic belt at King Arthur’s castle. He had absolutely no defenses except for his sword and armor. This time, his death was imminent if he would not rightfully win it. His heart skipped a beat at this thought. He was far too young to die for some glorious display. But what quality of life would he live should he turn back – a man having declared to the people that he would do it the right way only to turn back halfway to the Green Chapel to say that he had thought better? There was no turning back. He would do it now because he had said that he would, and because his entire legacy depended on it.
At times like this he wondered what King Arthur thought of him, the knight who was daring enough to slay a green terrible knight with just a single swing of his sword and would not be satisfied that he had kept his end of the bargain, albeit with some human error. Or some failure who just wouldn’t face death in the eye and fight it with all bravery despite being offered a position of trust at the King’s table. The thoughts tormented him. It was a journey he was making for the knighthood and all his people, as well as him King’s honor. Or was this just a justification for his own redemption?
He would soon find out. The Green Chapel was now in sight and he could see the same sight he saw not too long ago on that morning: a man sharpening his axe. This time it was not a green axe, it was a silver one. Soon the duel would begin.
