[Arthur continues]

So Gawain rode on alone through November and December, asking everyone he met if they'd seen the Green Knight, or if they knew where the Green Chapel was. But nobody seemed to have noticed a green giant on a green horse – and after all, you'd think they'd remember if they had seen him!

Gawain wondered if the Green Knight had been a troll or some kind of very tall elf, so he decided to search Wales and then the North-West of England, where he might find trolls or ogres who might know something. The trouble was that the trolls and ogres only wanted to fight, not talk, and so did the dragons, not to mention hungry bears, and packs of wolves desperate with hunger from the hardest winter in years.

But it was the winter itself that was the real problem. Gawain wasn't camping the way we are, with a tent and sleeping-bag; most nights he just lay down in his armour on the freezing ground, so that he'd be ready to fight if anything tried to eat him while he slept. He was glad if he just found a sheltered place between rocks where he was out of the snow and sleet, and then he had to hope the rocks wouldn't wake up at night and turn out to be trolls.

When it came to Christmas Eve, he still hadn't heard any news of the Knight of the Green Chapel, and it was weeks since he'd seen any church or chapel, even one with a wriggly tin roof. Gawain wasn't as obsessive about going to church and doing penance as some knights, like Galahad – after all, he knew God was everywhere, and he said going on a quest in December was quite enough of a penance without needing to wear a hair-shirt under his armour. But all the same, it was Christmas, and he wished he could be in a church full of candlelight and the sound of carol-singing and the smell of fruit from the Christingles, instead of riding over the cold hillside in the dusk. It was too gloomy to see the picture of Mary on the inside of his shield, but he looked up to the sky where the first stars were shining, and he prayed:

'Mother Mary, I know it's cheeky to ask for this, when you had to give birth in a barn or a cave, or maybe even in an open field. But please, if you're willing, can you help me find my way to somewhere with a church or a chapel in time for Midnight Mass? And if not, please help me not to mind being homeless at Christmas, like you. Amen.'

It seemed as though Mary was willing, because before long, Gawain came to the castle of a knight called Sir Bertilak de Hautdesert. The drawbridge was hauled up, of course, but when Gawain called to the porter to ask for shelter, the servants immediately wound it down to let him in, and grooms came to lead Gringolet to a stable and rub him down. Then Sir Bertilak himself came to welcome Gawain and show him to the best spare bedroom, where a fire was already burning in the grate. He called his servants to bring in a bathtub and fill it with pitchers of hot water, and to lay out big fluffy towels, and bring several sets of rich robes so that their guest had a choice of what to change into once he'd had a good long soak. By the time they'd sorted all that out, and taken Gawain's armour off him – which took a while, because he was too stiff with cold to help much – and carried the clothes he'd been wearing since the start of November to the castle laundry, the bath was full, and Gawain climbed in and lay back until he'd stopped shivering.

When he was dry and dressed in fresh clothes, a servant brought him his dinner on a tray – it was salmon en croute, and the most delicious meal that Gawain had ever tasted – and Sir Bertilak came back to sit with him while he ate. 'You're very welcome to my castle,' he said. 'Sorry it's only fish pie for dinner, but then it is Friday, after all!'

Gawain, who had eaten the last crust of stale bread from his saddlebag that morning, laughed with relief and said, 'This is the sort of penance I can live with!' Sir Bertilak asked him whether he'd come far, and what brought him on such a hard journey at this time of year, and Gawain explained who he was, and how he'd come from Camelot seeking the Knight of the Green Chapel, and now, with only a week to go, was no nearer to finding him...

But Sir Bertilak said, 'Oh, I know where the Green Chapel is; you'll find your way there, don't worry. But in the meantime, Sir Gawain of Orkney, I've heard such a lot about you, and it'd be a great honour if you'd stay and celebrate Christmas with us. I'm sure my wife will enjoy meeting you, too. Talking of Christmas, it's nearly time for Midnight Mass now. Are you all right to come down to the castle chapel, or do you need to rest?'

Gawain had been struggling not to yawn, but now he remembered that this was why he'd been so keen to come to some shelter tonight. So he came down to the chapel where all of Sir Bertilak's household and guests were assembled, and they listened to the Gospel stories about Jesus's birth, and the prophecies in Isaiah, and sang carols – including Gawain's favourite, the one that goes, 'Holly! Holly! And the first tree in the greenwood, it was the holly!' – and took Communion.

Afterwards, they had mince pies and mulled wine, and Gawain was introduced to everyone in the castle, including Sir Bertilak's wife, Lady Hautdesert, who was a good few years younger than her husband and very beautiful, and an old woman whose name Gawain didn't quite catch, possibly because he was still looking at Lady Hautdesert. The old woman was dressed in black from head to foot except for the white cloth around her chin, like a nun, but Gawain thought she looked more like a witch, and felt rather afraid. Even though he knew his own mother, Morgause, was a witch, that didn't reassure him much, because he'd always been rather afraid of his mother, too. But on the other hand, Morgause was beautiful, whereas this one was hideous and scowling. Gawain couldn't work out whether she was a relative of Sir Bertilak or of his wife, but Sir Bertilak seemed to spend a lot of his time with her, and always sat next to her at meals, leaving his wife to sit with Gawain.

For the next few days, there was such thick snow that nobody could leave the castle, so Sir Bertilak and his household and all their guests took it in turns to invent games. Gawain decided to make the most of it, because he knew this could well be the last party he would ever attend. He tried not to be bitter about the fact that last year's celebrations had led him to seek his death this year, but just to be glad that he was spending his last few days with a generous host who showered him with kindness, and a beautiful woman who couldn't be a threat to his virtue because she was already married. He tried to remember to say his prayers every night before bed – which wasn't easy, as he didn't usually get to bed until the small hours of the morning – and to ask God to look after Agravain and Gaheris at Camelot, and Gareth and Mordred on Orkney, when he wouldn't be around much longer.

But whatever he tried to pray, what went through his head was the song about the holly. 'Now the holly bears a berry as green as the grass,/ And Mary she bore Jesus who died on the cross.' Being crucified must hurt a lot more than being beheaded, but that didn't make being beheaded any easier to face. 'Now the holly bears a berry as bitter as gall,/ And Mary she bore Jesus who died for us all.' And in a way, Gawain was about to die for me, because he'd accepted the challenge instead of me, but really he was about to die because we'd both been so keen to join in a pointless contest rather than be called cowards. 'Now the holly bears a berry, as blood it is red,/ And Mary she bore Jesus who rose from the dead./ And Mary she bore Jesus, our saviour for to be,/ And the first tree in the greenwood it was the holly.' And Gawain would have to trust Jesus to raise him from the dead, but right now, the only one who kept rising again was the Green Knight.

By the twenty-eighth of December, the snow had thawed enough for all the visitors to set off home, though not the old woman, who seemed to be a permanent fixture in Sir Bertilak's household. Gawain was all set to head off as well, in search of the Green Chapel, but Sir Bertilak said it was only a couple of miles from his castle, and Gawain was more than welcome to stay until New Year's Day and ride out in the morning. 'But,' he said, 'I must ask you to do one thing in return.'

Gawain said, 'Yes, I promise: I'll do whatever you command.'

So Sir Bertilak said, 'I command you to have a rest. You've had a long, hard journey, and since you've been here I've kept you up late at night, talking and drinking and playing games, when you should have been catching up on your sleep. Now, tomorrow morning I intend to go hunting, but I want you to have a good lie-in and not get up until you feel like it, and have a peaceful day; I'll ask my wife to keep you company and make sure you don't get too bored. We'll repeat this for three days, and after that, you should be fresh enough to withstand this Green Knight you've told me about. Oh, and one more thing: if I catch anything when I'm hunting, I'll present it to you on my return, and if you've won anything in the castle, you're to give it to me in exchange. Is that a fair deal?'

So, the next morning, that was what they did. Gawain surfaced briefly just before dawn, when he could hear the horses neighing and the hounds barking in the courtyard below, and he parted the curtains around his four-poster bed and glanced out at the window, he could see the sky rippled with pink bars. He waited until he saw the blazing red sun roll over the horizon, and heard the blast of Sir Bertilak's hunting horn, and then he kept his promise and went back to sleep.

When he woke again, it was broad daylight, and he felt comfortably warm and drowsy and happy to stay in bed. As he was lying back and gazing up at the paint swirls on the ceiling, he heard someone softly opening the bedroom door. He glanced between the curtains to see who it was, but, as it was Lady Hautdesert, coming in with a cup of tea on a tray and looking as if she was trying not to disturb him, he rolled over, pulled the blankets over his head, and pretended to be fast asleep. The lady put the tray down on the bedside table, and then parted the curtains and sat down on the side of the bed, and when there was no response from Gawain (who was secretly making the Sign of the Cross under the bedclothes, to protect himself from temptation), she pinned him down with her arms on both sides of the bedclothes.

'So, Sir Gawain of Orkney, do you yield to me?' she asked. 'Confess it: you are pinioned and cannot rise; these curtains shall be your dungeon, this blanket your fetters, and you shall not stir unless you pay me my ransom.'

Gawain said, 'Sweet lady, I surrender at once and beg your mercy, but will you give me leave to sit up? I can't plead very well with my head under the blankets.'

So the lady let him sit up, and said, 'Sweet knight, as you yield to me, so I will yield to you. My husband has left everything in the house at your disposal, and all I can give you that he has not is my body. Oh, Gawain, do you know how much I've longed for this moment? I'd heard so much about how brave and honourable and courteous you were, and I'd always longed to meet you. And now, in the five days since we've met, I've seen that you were nobler and sweeter and more handsome than anyone ever told me, and much more besides, but I never had the chance to be alone with you until now. So, please, don't scorn me when I tell you that, if a thousand valiant knights and princes and kings were all clamouring to be my husband, I'd choose you over all of them.'

Gawain said, 'Well, thank you, but I think you've got a much better husband already. But, as you've taken me prisoner, I will be your servant, and obey any of your commands, once I've paid my ransom to be allowed out of bed. What ransom shall I pay you?'

'Only this,' she said: 'that I might have one kiss with the great Sir Gawain.'

So they kissed, and then the lady said, 'Would you like breakfast in bed?'

But Gawain said, 'No, really, it's all right: I'll come down to the dining-room.'