The Green Knight

In Search of Greatness

written by

Maël

_And all for shame he shrank, while yet the Green Knight spake—_ _Then in this fashion first lament the knight did make;_ _“Covetousness, accurst be thou, and cowardice,_ _In virtue’s stead ye bring both villainy and vice—”_ _With that he caught the knot, and loosed the lace so bright,_ _Giveth the girdle green again to the Green Knight,_ _“Lo! there the false thing take, a foul fate it befall,_ _Fear of thy blow, it taught me cowardice withal,_ _With custom covetous to league me, and thus wrong_ _Largesse and loyalty, which do to knights belong._ _Faulty am I, and false, to fear hath been a prey._ _From treachery and untruth is sorrow born alway,_ _and care—_ _So here I own to thee_ _That faithless did I fare;_ _Take thou thy will of me,_ _Henceforth I’ll be more ’ware!”_ “Is it wrong to want greatness for you?” Mist and magic. What story will you tell? The lands of King Arthur. Lands where magic is waning, mystery is dying, and the onset of a new era is just over the hills. The halls of Camelot grow colder and colder. The Knights of the Round Table, grown fat and lazy and bored, sitting on stories long told. “I’ve got time. I’ve got lots of time.” Life is fleeting for the mortal man, doomed to seek glory else be condemned to wallow in judgement and scorn. To be a knight, a true knight, is the determination of Gawain, nephew, perhaps even son to Arthur and Morgana; yet, laziness prevails in his own ambitions. By witchcraft, a creature is brought forth the Round Table on Christmas day, a creature that calls itself The Green Knight. Face me, he says, strike a blow and thou shall receive in turn one year hence. All cower save Gawain, seeing the opportunity to make a name for himself, severing The Green Knight’s head from its body. One year to prove himself a knight. One year to answer The Green Knight’s challenge. One year to spend thinking of everything else. A weeks long quest will challenge every last aspect of Gawain. Failure after failure after failure, and yet, push on towards the end he does. “Whilst we're off looking for red, in comes green. Red is the color of lust, but green is what lust leaves behind—in heart, in womb. Green is what is left when ardor fades, when passion dies, when we die, too. When you go your footprints will fill with grass; moss will cover over your tombstone. And as the sun rises, green shall spread over all, in all its shades and hues. The verdigris will overtake your swords and your coins and your battlements, and, try as you might, all you hold dear will succumb to it. Your skin, your bones. Your virtue.” Nature moves into a world where magic flees. A chapel at the end of the world, overgrown in vines, green of rot and life and yellow in the rising sun on another Christmas morne. The domain of The Green Knight. A holy place, a place where Christianity and Celtic Paganism collide. Gawain and The Green Knight meet. Dreams and nightmares—a future thrust into his mind. A future of him, king and assaulted on all sides. In the end, acceptance. An acceptance of whatever fate is to befall Gawain. The true mantle of honor placed upon his weary shoulders. A game to be won. “There… Now I'm ready, I'm ready now.” Fuck me, I absolutely adore what David Lowery does in his inversion of Sir Gawain and The Green Knight. A painterly masterpiece of morality. Dev Patel is incredible. Just so fucking gorgeous. “Well done, my brave knight.”