The medieval narrative, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is a wonderful account of the Arthurian Hero’s fine qualities of character, steeped as they are in honour, chivalry and bravery. The awe-inspiring Green Knight dramatically rides his horse into the Court of Arthur which is in the midst of a 15 day feast in celebration of Yuletide. Whilst there are Christian overtones to the narrative, the story may well harken back to an earlier date and the original form of Christianity as practised by the ancient peoples of Briton. In any event, it is a great tale for Christmas, beginning with a decapitation challenge issued by the Green Knight: one of your knights may chop off my head, in return of which, he shall come to my Green Chapel in a year’s time in readiness for the same.
The opening is interesting in that it relates the founding of these ancient Isles by Brutus – a historical fact that was known to all schoolboys in the not-too-distant past.
“After the siege and the assault of Troy, when that burg was destroyed and burnt to ashes, and the traitor tried for his treason, the noble Æneas and his kin sailed forth to become princes and patrons of well-nigh all the Western Isles. Thus Romulus built Rome (and gave to the city his own name, which it bears even to this day); and Ticius turned him to Tuscany; and Langobard raised him up dwellings in Lombardy; and Felix Brutus sailed far over the French flood, and founded the kingdom of Britain, wherein have been war and waste and wonder, and bliss and bale, ofttimes since.”
Thus begins the ancient medieval narrative poem, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.
It is a tale for the Yuletide, one which has been embellished with Christian mythology and context. Nevertheless, with its references to the Giant knight, the chivalric codes of honour and the Court of King Arthur, it is a compelling narrative which pulls the listener’s imagination into the foggy realms of Britain’s ancient past, linking the arrival of the Aryan-Phoenician Brutus and his people to these islands and the establishment of Briton as a nation.
The poem has associations with Lud’s Church in the Peak District National Park, a region bestrewn with ancient megaliths, water-ways and buried tunnels and dwellings,
When one examines the evidence of these ancient origins of the Brit-ish nation, one is struck by the moral magnitude and sheer size of these noble men, who faced challenges and obstacles that would grind down lesser mortals.
Over 3 thousand years later and the world leaders are mere pygmies by comparison. And, I mean that quite literally.
Wherever I turn, I see dwarfs who ponce about on the stage of the world’s WEF puppet show,. Goblin-type figures with tiny hearts and short statures. Off the top of my head, Kissinger, Macron, Sunak, Zelensky, Starmer, Johnston, Xi, Putin, Kim Jong – all of them are short arses. Are we looking at some kind of Napoleon complex? Are these midgets spurred on to higher positions of power because they are short in stature? Why is there so few men of stature in the geo-political realm?
Does it matter? I don’t know but I do know this: repetition means that there is no coincidence.
To return to Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. He issues a decapitation challenge, fully in the knowledge that his offer will not be refused by the men of Camelot. The Green Knight is well aware of the honour, courtesy and chivalric codes of these men of the round table, and his challenge illustrates this,
“And here, as I have heard tell, is fairest courtesy, therefore have I come hither as at this time. Ye may be sure by the branch that I bear here that I come in peace, seeking no strife. For had I willed to journey in warlike guise I have at home both hauberk and helm, shield and shining spear, and other weapons to mine hand, but since I seek no war my raiment is that of peace. But if thou be as bold as all men tell thou wilt freely grant me the boon I ask.”
And Arthur answered,
“Sir Knight, if thou cravest battle here thou shalt not fail for lack of a foe.”
And the knight answered,
“Nay, I ask no fight, in faith here on the benches are but beardless children, were I clad in armour on my steed there is no man here might match me. Therefore I ask in this court but a Christmas jest, for that it is Yule-tide, and New Year, and there are here many fain for sport. If any one in this hall holds himself so hardy, so bold both of blood and brain, as to dare strike me one stroke for another, I will give him as a gift this axe, which is heavy enough, in sooth, to handle as he may list, and I will abide the first blow, unarmed as I sit. If any knight be so bold as to prove my words let him come swiftly to me here, and take this weapon, I quit claim to it, he may keep it as his own, and I will abide his stroke, firm on the floor. Then shalt thou give me the right to deal him another, the respite of a year and a day shall he have. Now haste, and let see whether any here dare say aught.”
Thus, the brave Gawain wields the mighty green axe – he swings it high to bring it down and chop of the head of the Green Knight. In the same way, the societal pendulum will swing back. It is a matter of when, not if and, at that point, the manginas will fall away, being nowt more than a fetid collection of simpering carbuncles on the arse end of mankind. In the end, Gawain’s courage and honour triumph over the Green Knight and all his previous fears fall into nothingness aside the newly-acquired improvements to his character, resultant from the journey he undertakes in the dark heart of Yuletide.
As all valuable teachings demonstrate, Life is not about safety. Man is not here to be a meek pussy cat who eats from his handlers table and gently purrs over the dystopian visions of his masters.
Man is here to be a warrior. A warrior in Truth under God’s law. All else is a lie.
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