The folk on the floor were taken aback,
but fearless Gawain was fast to confront the challenge.
Hopping down from the high dais, he addressed the horseman:
“None of us knights are afraid of your foolish nonsense—
a hundred warriors here would hold you to your word.
But since I seem to be the first to stand,
I’ll gladly play your little game.”
Laughing aloud, the lord in green
leaps from his horse and hands the axe to Gawain,
towering a whole head taller than anyone there.
“So the rumors I’ve heard all over the realm are true—
the reputation of the Round Table is well deserved.
If all of Arthur’s men are as mad as you,
no wonder the townsfolk whisper in the streets
of your brutal pride and the prowess of your house.”
Now Gawain holds the axe, gripping the handle,
and he heaves it high up over his head,
then swings it wide in a circle, assessing the heft of it.
The green man, unmoved, removes his coat
and casts it to the cold cobbled floor of the king’s hall
            in a heap.
            The room was deathly still;
            no one so much as breathed.
            And now good Gawain knelt
            before his lord and liege.