I will tell thee openly, though it be shame. My father hath lain sick,
seven year long, and hath lost his goods, and now lieth in sore straits;
he may neither ride nor walk nor stand upon his feet, he suffereth much.
Now have I nursed and tended and otherwise served my father--friends
hath he few save myself, and I had fain stayed by him and kept him all
my life, doing for him all that within me lay. To-day came this knight
within our hold, which is sore broken down and ruined, and hath done me
sore wrong. He took me thence by force, ere I was well aware, nor stayed
his hand for God or man. Thus did he carry me away, and now he doeth
me this shame. He hath left his folk behind that they may hinder my
friends, lest they follow him to his hurt. I fear lest they be here
anon. And should they find ye here ye may scarce escape. Would ye save
your life, then, Sir Knight, make a swift end of this combat. I fear it
dureth over long an ye will aid me, by our Lord's grace. So bethink ye,
Sir Knight, what ye may do."

Quoth Sir Gawain: "An ye be wise, Sir Knight, ye will now speak; here
will I tarry no longer. Will ye right this maiden of the wrong ye have
done her, or fight with me? The one or the other must ye do. An ye will,
I will alight and meet ye afoot, or ye may mount your steed again, by
covenant that ye flee not, nor escape, but abide your fortune."

The knight made answer: "Now do ye hold me over feeble, an ye think I
shall thus yield. Ye will do well to dismount straightway, an ye have
lust to fight." He covered himself with his shield, and drew forth his
sword from the scabbard. Sir Gawain dismounted, whether he liked it well
or ill, and let his horse that men call the Gringalet, stand beside him;
never a foot would that steed stir till its lord came, and once more
laid hand on it. Forthwith they betook them to fight, and dealt each
other fierce thrusts, with mighty and strong strokes, so that one saw