What Women Want, Or Why Marrying A Dentist Is A Good Thing in Some Cultures

As I mentioned in class the other day, I have been enjoying the parallels between the women of Parzival and in the Gawain myths, particularly Dame Ragnelle. While these ideas are not as fully fleshed out as I would like, I am hoping that this post will encourage commentary on the women who have been (intentionally) left out of this comparison.
We begin with Dame Ragnelle before the transformation, who was "so fowlle and horyble/ she had two tethe on every syde/ as borys tuskes, I wolle nott hyde,/ of lengthe a large handfulle/ the one tusk went up and the other doun" (Ln. 547-551). This description of a woman with tusks is remarkably similar to the description of Cundrie, "her nose was like a dog's and to the length of several spans a pair of tusks jutted from her jaws" (163). What is remarkable here is not that medieval women apparently were predisposed to having faces like walruses, but that in both of these cases the tusks were simply not enough. As Professor W mentioned, they were a span, a hand length, at least in length, Ragnelle's a large handful and Cundrie's several hand spans. I began to wonder what the purpose of the demonization of these women in this way was, and all I could determine was that to have tusks would impair the use of one's mouths, distort the ability to eat, to speak and to kiss, all things that the average lady would be expected to do with grace. Tusks would definitely prevent that.
After Dame Ragnelle was transformed, there is little to be said of her. We know that she becomes a beautiful as she before was ugly, but what the author notes is that her personality seems to change. As she is now beautiful, it is easier to see that instead of being confrontational, as she was with Arthur, she becomes the paragon of femininity. She is described at "the fayrest Lady of alle Englond," which puts here even above Queen G (Ln. 826). She only has a few years with Gawain before she dies, but during that time "in her lyfe she grevyd hym nevere; therfor was nevere woman to hym lever," which is part of what makes her the fairest of them all (Ln. 823-4). Her devotion to him, her ability to keep him happy, her loving spirit and ideal femininity all are a part of what makes her the pinnacle of women in the Gawain cycle, the one that assures that while "Gawen was weddyd oft in his days; butt so welle he nevere lovyd woman always" (Ln.832-3).
Queen Belacane gets a brief amount of time with her wandering knight as well, before he leaves her. In doing so, Gahmuret achieves what the storyteller of Dame Ragnelle does, preserves her in the mind of the hero (and the readers) as she last was , young and beautiful. Belacane represents the ideal woman as the story begins, her only flaw being her faith. But she is described by Gahmuret as "although she was an infidel, a more affectionate spirit of womanliness had never stolen over a woman's heart...her modest ways were a pure baptism, as was the rain that fell on her--the flood descending from her eyes down to her sabled breast...her pleasures in life were devotion to sorrow and grief's true doctrine" (27). Though she is an infidel, though her breast is sable, she is still the pinnacle of femininity in the eyes of young Gahmuret, and while he may leave her, and while he may find plenty of other women, we hope that he always longs for her as Gawain does for Ragnelle.

Isolation and Proximity as indicators of Otherness and Power

Transitioning to The Nibelungenlied from Sir Gawain romances, I’m noticing some big differences in the way women are portrayed. For me, the women of Sir Gawain function as another force determining his actions and highlighting his lack of agency. As soon as he meets a woman, be it Ragnelle or the Green Knight’s wife, he ceases to assert his own will, defaulting to the lady out of courtesy. Particularly Ragnelle. She asks him to choose which he would rather have: a wife fair by day, hideous at night or a wife hideous by day, fair at night. Rather than assert his wish, Gawain considers it for a moment and then basically says “Yes, dear. Whatever you want, dear.” Even when Gawain refuses and attempts to stand his ground, his will is still subjugated by the will of the lady of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. He refuses to take the belt/girdle, but the lady insists and eventually he gives.

In the Gawain romances, it’s the woman’s appearance that changes Gawain. The lady’s goodly appearance influences Gawain’s actions, and Ragnelle’s beauty at the end of the romance compels Gawain to give up jousting. However, more specifically, her proximity to Gawain is what sways Gawain. In both instances when Gawain’s will is melded to the wishes of Ragnelle and the Lady respectively, they are in their shared bedchamber.

In The Nibelungenlied, however, women are rarely in close quarters with men, owing to the strict societal codes of behavior. Women are kept hidden and secret from men. Brunhild expresses this best with her interactions with her troop of maids. “Then the Queen told her superb young ladies to move away from the windows—they were not to stand there as a spectacle for strangers.” (Nibelungenlied 60) While the seclusion speaks to the maintenance of women’s secrecy, the maids turn the idea of spectacle on its head. Unlike the women of Gawain romances, the ladies are not displayed, but they spy on showy Sigfried and Gunther, dressed in their fine new clothes.

Proximity with ladies in Gawain’s case made him subject to the will of women, whereas in Sigfried and Gunther’s case, separating women, literally behind walls, makes the men the object in the relationship. Gawain is passive because of the sway of the lady’s presence. Sigfried and Gunther are not aware of the maid’s voyeurism, which gives the women the power of the gaze. The act of secluding the Other, in the case of The Nibelungenlied, allows the maids, a usually passive and peripheral position for a woman, to become powerful in a way unlike the women of Gawain.

Unlike the women of Gawain, the maids of The Nibelungenlied are not to be looked at. In fact, Sigfried and Gunther fall in love with Kriemhild and Brunhild not because they have gazed upon the most wondrous beauty of their generation. They “fall in love” with them because they hear about their beauty. Once again, Kriemhild and Brunhild exist in the story behind a wall, and in the case of Kriemhild, only she has the power to gaze upon Sigfried. “Had Siegfried but known that his beloved was observing him, it would have been a source of unending delight to him, and if he could have seen her I dare assert no greater pleasure could ever have befallen him.” (Nibelungenlied 31-32) Kriemhild wields the power to bestow great pleasure on Siegfried by showing herself, but she can hold back because she is in the position to watch but not be watched. Unlike Gawain’s ladies who rely on their appearance and proximity, using intimacy to win Gawain over, Kriemhild and the other maids use distance to create a mystique, which gives them more power and puts them in the position of observer, a place normally reserved for men.

Maybe It’s Just Me: The State of Women Thus Far

We keep coming across this same basic description of many of the women in these tales, and I begin to wonder if there is more to it than just a male-centric (misogynistic?) social construct. Almost without fail, when we encounter a woman with enough status to bear description, we see her in one of two places, both of which are strikingly similar. She is either borne on the back of a finely-arrayed and obviously costly mount, or finely-arrayed on the dais. These locations are meant to instantly impart to the reader a sense of the woman herself, in that she is important enough to have a description and that description places her in a position close to one of power.

We saw this in the Lais and the story of Ragnelle, where the woman in question is mounted on a horse. This horse and its trappings define the status of the woman visually, but imply the status of their man. Yes, she has a beautiful horse with all the trimmings, but who gave it to her? Another way of asking this question is, as a woman is still socially deemed as chattel, who owns this pretty trinket? Women serve their function first as the lady of some great man, as the chatelaine of his home and the mother of his heirs. It is with notable exception that the women appear as something other than a possession. In the Lais, some of the ladies were arrayed beautifully to indicate that they were somehow enchanted or blessed, as in the tale of Lanval, where the worth of the woman proves that she is an eligible and worthy partner for a knight by virtue of her beauty, and the beauty which surrounds her. Lanval’s lady appears before Arthur in such a show of wealth that he cannot argue her claims. This is not because he is struck dumb by the sight of her loveliness; this is because she is carrying her dowry with her, making it clear that whoever she is, she is of quality, and there may be unseen ramifications for challenging her (such as the appearance of her obviously well-placed male sponsor). In the tale of Ragnelle, her wealth is displayed not only to counteract her initial visage, but to indicate that, whatever may have happened with her step-dame and brother, her reputation and dowry are intact, thus making her eligible instead of outcast.

In Beowulf, Wealtheow reigns from the high table, the position of her power as lady of the lord. As she is married, her dowry taken and used, she no longer needs to be decked in costly trappings. Her sense of worth to her husband and people is now determined by what she is allowed to say and do. Wealtheow can speak her mind, issue challenges, and bestow great gifts without any obvious textual repercussions to indicate she has overstepped her bounds. Grendel’s mother is much the same in her own home, though the difference is that there is no longer a lord there to determine where the money is spent, and she is surrounded by a trove of the expensive and priceless. Grendel’s mother is also the head of the household, speaking from her position as both lord and lady, as both mother to a child and ruler of a powerful champion. In Gawain and the Green Knight, we see Guenevere following in their footsteps. She is “on a dais well-decked and duly-arrayed/ with costly silk curtains, a canopy over, / of Toulouse and Turkestan tapestries…the best gems/ ever brought into Britain, with bright pennies to pay” (Ln. 75-80). Arthur’s queen is dressed and displayed in such a way to show his power, and his power over her. Arthur can control this beauty, afford to dress her finely, and this indicates his own standing. Not only can he afford to and chooses to do it, he is not dipping into the funds of her dowry to accomplish it, rather he is importing goods from other conquests and other lands to add to her scenery. This image calls to mind the altar of a church, where the Virgin Mary is finely dressed and surrounded by richness to indicate her status through that of her Lord. Yes, in that instance, she has assuredly earned the trappings on her own merit as well, but in this manner she, and Guenevere, stand as the symbol of femininity and beauty, and because of who they are related to, necessarily also representing virtue and compassion. The lady of the house is also in charge of ministering aid to the people, viewing them as her responsibility, so that she is not just a pretty ornament, but also a functioning person with a job to do. She does this, at meals and social functions, by being on the dais, above all the others, but still servant to them as she is to her husband.

But here, Guenevere is given an added distinction. The “fair queen, without a flaw,/ she glanced with eyes of grey” (Ln. 81-2). At this point in the semester, I bet everyone anticipates that I am going to link her gray eyes with the most famous of gray eyes, those of the goddess Athena. This minor detail may add a new level to Guenevere, as now she is not just chattel and a figurehead, she has been linked to wisdom and so we can infer that she must have some of her own.

What Does A Woman Want (A Question of Reading)

Since the entire premise of "The Wedding of Sir Gawain and the Dame Ragnelle" is based on the question "Whate wemen desyren moste" (51), I thought I might try to answer that, at least in the case of Ragnelle.

Freud famously stated his disquiet with this particular question in his letter to Marie Bonaparte, saying "The great question that has never been answered, and which I have not yet been able to answer, despite my thirty years of research into the feminine soul, is 'What does a woman want?'" This perplexes me because the answer is, obviously, given within the text.

The answer Dame Ragnelle gives, ""We desyren of men above alle maner thyng/to have the sovereynte, withoute lesyng,/ of all, both hyghe and lowe" (58) may be textually satisfying, but, for me and for Freud, theoretically lacking. What exactly does it mean to have sovereignty? How does one go about getting that? If a man grants a woman control, that's not really freedom, is it?

To move further, I'm turning towards Shoshana Felman's What Does a Woman Want: Reading and Sexual Difference (are we seeing a pattern here?). She says that the most transgressive act a woman can take in literature is to "resist male recognition...refusing to ground specularity in meaning, to serve as a narcissistic mirror for her lover and thereby to reflect back simply and unproblematically man's value." (Felman 4) The short version? We can stop showing men what they want to see, resist being read, and then we will be in control of our own destinies.

Going by that, it seems to me like Dame Ragnelle is already sovereign. Aside from the description of her ugliness coupled with her princess steed, Arthur simply doesn't know how to read her. Even in speaking to her "'Now farewelle," sayd the Kyng, 'Lady.''" (55) The pause in that line functions almost like an ellipsis to the reader. The words are split up, it's almost like The Kyng has to think about whether or not to refer to her as a Lady. Ragnelle has resisted reading. She doesn't really need Gawain to give her the choice because she's already stopped functioning as a mirror for men.

Given that, she must be the only woman who could possibly answer the question. She is the only woman who is already resisting, yet she is still offering herself to the men, which might be the source of Freud's disquiet.

Unattractively Monstrous

Since the class discussion today grazed the topic of the similarities of the ancient lady in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and Ragnelle, I thought I’d further expound upon the differences and similarities of the two characters and what qualifies them as monstrous or not. As Amelia aptly pointed out in her presentation, the descriptions of Ragnelle in her ‘hag’ form are undeniably monstrous. The poet took great pains to describe her physical attributes as hideous. “A lute she bare upon her bak; / her nek long and therto greatt; / her here cloteryd on an hepe.” (Wedding 237-239) The description goes beyond Ragnelle as an unattractive woman but inscribes her with monstrous features, such as the previous description of the hump on her back, her thick neck, and her clumped hair.

The descriptions of the ancient lady of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, while considerably less monstrous, closely mirror those of Ragnelle: “She was short and thick of waist, / Her buttocks round and wide;” (Green Knight 966-967) Similarly, Ragnelle is described as having broad hips and being barrel-shaped. The two poets have in their minds the same kind of hag character. Both are described as being ornately dressed and, to some degree, respected. Arthur always addresses Ragnelle as “Lady” or even as “fayre Lady,” which indicates that even if Arthur finds her hideous he still recognizes that she possesses knowledge that he does not. The old lady is introduced as “an ancient, it seemed, / And held in high honor by all men about.” (Green Knight 948-949)

The difference between the two women, obviously, is the nature of their physical monstrousness. In one way, Ragnelle could be characterized as the more monstrous of the two since her deformities were caused by evil means, specifically witchcraft or “nygramancy.” (Wedding 691) Ragnelle’s association with the forces of such malevolent powers calls into question her innocence. Her relationship with her step-dame could speak to her own dabblings with the occult, but that’s speculation beyond the scope of the text. What is apparent from the text is that Ragnelle’s grotesque appearance is a consequence of dark forces, obscuring the pure, subservient angel that is Ragnelle’s true nature. The transitory nature of Ragnelle’s monstrous condition lessens its terrifying effect. By contrast, the ancient lady of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is far more monstrous because her condition cannot be reversed since she acquires her hideous appearance through the natural process of aging. The poet of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight describes the young, beautiful lady alongside the old, less “toothsome” lady, contrasting the attractive with the repulsive. Although Gawain, paragon of courtesy, does not reveal his revulsion, the text makes it clear that the ancient lady’s appearance elicits anxiety. The poet describes the young lady as “fresh” and the old lady as “faded.” (Green Knight 951)

Ragnelle, with her goodly appearance restored, does not deteriorate to the permanent monstrousness of her hag-like countenance. Her restored beauty remains fixed in Gawain’s unending love for her and her physical form, whereas the old lady slowly fades, serving as a constant, unwelcome reminder that decay and death is inevitable. And what is more monstrous than a figure that embodies our inescapable mortality?

"Alle Openly": Identity and Discourse in "The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle"

I'd like to follow in the footsteps of a couple of earlier postings and discuss "The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle," which of these three colorful pieces I found the most interesting. To begin with, it was refreshing to read an Arthurian romance in which Arthur actually participates as a character - and not in the context of either his rise to power or his decline and death (although this latter, for a large segment of the story, seems a distinct possibility). In (presumably) the long heyday of his reign, the royal cipher gets to decend from his throne and walk around and talk with the other real people. Seeing him in the flesh like this was, to me, a pleasant surprise.

My point, beyond how nice it was to witness Arthur get his day in the sun, is that "Dame Ragnelle" is a far more narratively complex poem than the other two. "The Turke" and "The Carle of Carlisle" keep a relatively tight focus on Gawain himself and his dealings with the monstrous other in various manifestations, most importantly the other whom he will eventually help transform back into "one of us." Despite occasional excursions into the head of the Turke, the Carle, or ancillary figures like Kay, the narrative in these poems stays predominantly unilinear. In "Dame Ragnelle," by contrast, we have at least four central figures, all of whom have a hand in weaving the complex and multi-stranded plot: Arthur, as I've mentioned; Sir Gromer Somer Joure; and of course Gawain and Dame Ragnelle themselves. Obviously Gawain and Ragnelle are indispensable, but subtract even Arthur or Gromer and the story would lose a lot of the underlying network of criss-crossing oaths, claims, and obligations which give it such vigor and depth.

Closely related to this poem's multiplicity of character and motivation is one of its other unique characteristics: the fact that so much of it is related by characters themselves. First-person discourse plays a much larger part here than in "The Turke" or "Carle of Carlisle." Most significant incidents in the poem, after being described by the narrator, get told again, sometimes at nearly equal length and detail, by one character to another. In fact, these first-person discourses, and the ways in which they are controlled, concealed, recounted, and pieced together, relate closely to the overarching themes of identity and otherness.

Before releasing Arthur after their initial encounter, Sir Gromer admonishes him to "kepe alle thyng in close" (111). Arthur is not to tell the story of this meeting and of the deadly obligation he is now under to anyone. Of course, Arthur immediately turns around and recounts the whole tale to Gawain, which also helps establish the close trust and fidelity existing between the two of them. Arthur's second encounter in "Yngleswod Forest," with Ragnelle herself, ends with precisely the opposite command: "'Welle,' sayd she, 'nowe go home agayn / And fayre wordes speke to Sir Gawen, / For thy lyf I may save'" (297-299). Ragnelle then permits, indeed exhorts revelatory speech a second time, when supplying Arthur with the answer to Gromer's question, which Arthur paraphrases to Gromer in virtually identical language. The poet constructs a provocative contrast here by juxtaposing this correct, feminine-supplied, oral response with the "bokes twayne" (449) assembled by Gawain and Arthur and curtly dismissed by Gromer. The male compendia of literate knowledge prove useless, but verbally quoting feminine first-person discourse succeeds.

To cut to the chase of all this, I think we can draw a direct line between Ragnelle's free speech, and her desire (even her will) to have others speak freely, with her physical transformation at the climax of the poem. Unlike her brother, Ragnelle has no interest in making others "kepe alle thyng in close." She has been "kept close" herself, and consequently does not want to conceal things but to publicize them and have others publicize further. Witness how adamant she is that everything at her wedding and her feast proceeds "alle openly" (575).

The resolution of the concatenation of obligations and dilemmas making up the plot of the poem occurs in the most elaborate of all its scenes of first-person discourse. After Arthur and his entourage have discovered the transformed Ragnelle in Gawain's room, a succession of characters, speaking to a succession of audiences, piece together the whole story from first to last so that everybody involved knows everything: "Sir Gawen told the Kyng"; "the Kyng them alle gan telle"; "the Kyng told the Queen"; "Gawen told the Kyng"; "she [Ragnelle] told the Kyng" (752, 760, 763, 772, 775). In other words, the revelation of Ragnelle's real identity leads to the revelation of the complete plot of the poem. Moreover, this scene of mutual public narration follows from Gawain's publication of Ragnelle's true appearance, when he "opynyd the dore fulle fayre" to present her "in her smok" to the male gaze (741-742). As a side note, I don't remember anything like either of these scenes occuring in Chaucer's version of this story; as I recall (not having read it since freshman year), "The Wife of Bath's Tale" ends in the bedroom, without the transformation being publicized. This difference only underscores how, in this version, speech and identity, and the concealment or revelation thereof, are connected.

Ragnelle's transformation is secured when Gawain gives her "the sovereynte" which she needs and which, apparently, all women desire. However, in another sense, Ragnelle has been in control all along in this poem. She has all the answers; she commands the discourse of the poem, letting others know what to say and when to say it. Indeed, by the end we get the sense that everything after Gromer's ambush of Arthur has been part of one giant plot spun by Ragnelle to regain her true identity. To this end she manipulates her brother's grievance, Arthur's dilemma, and Gawain's loyalty to his sovereign and courtesy to his wife. Ragnelle is the spider at the center of this web. Hence, the Other here occupies the central position of the poem, but her position, like her identity, lies concealed. Gawain's recognition of the sovereignty which she already essentialy wields brings this position and identity into the open. In "The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle," the Other is the unacknowledged form of the Self.

Beauty is in the Eye of the…

After reading the three Gawain romances, I realized that the othering done in these stories isn’t really based on Christianity, like it was in the Song of Roland. Rather, it is more based on beauty and being the ‘norm’ in terms of a physical human being. Anyone who enters the castle of Camelot that is physically different from them is ‘othered’ because they just aren’t as beautiful. Even Jeffrey Cohen notes this in his article, “Of Giants: Sex, Monsters, and the Middle Ages,” that the giants that exist in the story are an other in themselves. This ‘othering’ based on physicality does not coincide with Christian moral values, however, the agency of being Christian is not prevalent in these stories. In every story, it begins with describing Arthur, Gawain and the people of Camelot, in a manner to make them the initial subjects to the reader, and to make any other characters seen in the story ‘othered’ to them.

In “Sir Gawain and the Carle of Carlisle,” we have a man who is associated with untamed beasts and appears dangerous. The story begins with a hunt, and while listing the knights who are with Gawain and Arthur, we have one knight named “Syr Ferr Unkowthe” (ln 61). Even though we don’t know who this knight is, he is described as being fair nonetheless. However, once we enter the castle of Carle and meet the host, he is described as a large broad man with a turned up nose and great height. Carle seems to pay his way out of his otherness by giving away his beautiful daughter to Gawain. In this “peaceweaving” move, Carle is able to join the knights of the Round Table and lose his ‘otherness.’

In “The Turke and Sir Gawain,” the Turke is othered by his description as, “like a Turke he was made” (ln 14). Here, the othering is based on ethnicity, and surely he is of darker complexion. The Turke is never described as ugly (just ethnically different), so he is still able to join Camelot in the end. Though the Turke does convert to Christianity in the end, he is the bridge leading Gawain to the other world of the King of Man and his giants. The Turke embodies the othering of the nether country they travel to.

In the story of Dame Ragnelle, we once again have a woman who is depicted as very ugly. However, once Sir Gawain weds her and the spell or broken, all is well. Ragnelle is noted to be one of the most beautiful women in the kingdom. Ragnelle from then on refrains from being an ‘other’ by her beauty and can be seen as a noblewoman in the court. Never is there any look into the character of Dame Ragnelle. Once she is beautiful, she is associated with the fair ladies of Camelot and loses her title as an ‘other’ (in the sense of physicality). There can be argument for her othering as female, but I do not wish to address it in this post.

As we have noted the mirroring of the opposing sides in Song of Roland, perhaps the use of beauty versus lack of beauty is a mirror as well. Like the book The Picture of Dorian Gray, it is a mirror for the people in Camelot to see who they really are. However the story can be read, it seems that the only way to break free from the ‘othering’ is for a spell to be broken or you provide beauty (a.k.a. a beautiful daughter) to the hegemony.

The Dualities At Play Within Ragnelle

Ragnelle in, “The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle,” seemed to embody what we would consider the ‘other,’ precisely because she possesses a duality within her character that transgresses our working definition of what constitutes the ‘monstrous.’ Ragnelle’s physicality, her ‘snotted’ nose, teeth that hang over her lips, the hump on her back, clotted hair, and her many other characteristics seem to mark her as a ‘monster.’ Despite this, her associations with the ‘monstrous’ and ‘beauty,’ the secret she knows, and her relationship with Gromer, elevate her into a realm where she encompasses the ‘other.’

There is a dualism assigned to Ragnelle that illustrates her simultaneously as ‘monstrous,’ and ‘beautiful.’ Yes, within the story she undergoes a literal physical transformation, yet, I think there is an interesting tension between what we would consider ‘monstrous,’ and ‘beautiful’ early on in the story; her embodiment of both these ideas is readily felt on pages fifty-three and fifty-four, and define her as an ‘other.’ Ragnelle’s monstrous physicality is established in lines 231 through 245: Yet, this image is contradicted shortly after when she is seen sitting on a ‘palfrey richly draped, and adorned with gold and precious stone.’ Regnelle’s is physically monstrous, and in the same instance she is illustrated as sitting on and surrounded by ‘beauty’; this particular section I think hints or alludes to her dual nature, and paints her as both ‘beast and beauty.’ In addition to this, before her literal transformation on page fifty-five, she again possesses an interesting duality that hinges on the ‘monstrous’ and the ‘beautiful.’ Ragnelle states, “ther is a byrd man calle me an owlle…And yet a Lady I am.’ When she is labeled as an ‘owl,’ Ragnelle becomes associated with the power of darkness, death, as well as Satan; this reinforces her ‘monstrous’ nature. Contrasting this image, Ragnell asserts her femenininty and gains all of the notions assigned to the female gender construct when she states she is indeed a ‘Lady.’ At the same time, the use of ‘Lady’ also associates her with Christian notions that impose purity, innocence, chastity, etc. on women (Lady). Ragnell seems to possess both Satanic or Pagan, and Christian qualities: She is illustrated as possessing a physical contradiction, but embodies a spiritual contradiction as well that works to push her further into the realm of the ‘other.’ The tension between the monstrous and beauty that comes to be associated with Ragnelle elevates her above these fixed notions, and gains a new dimension with the power (secret or answer) she possesses.

On page sixty Ragnelle tells Arthoure the answer to Gromer’s question: “Wemen desyre sovereynte.” There is a power instilled within Ragnelle’s character because she and Gromer seem to be the only characters that know this answer, and even before she tells Arthour what it is, her ‘power’ is given an even greater dimension on page fifty-four. I thought it was curious how Ragnelle echoes her brother’s words (page fifty) when she tells Arthour, “For thy lyfe is in my hand.’ One could argue that when Ragnelle echoes her brother’s words, the images of these two characters seem to collide momentarily, and this associates Ragnelle with a certain ‘male power.’ If what we consider to be ‘monstrous’ includes possessing simultaneously a feminine and masculine nature, a dual nature similar to Grendel’s Mother in, “Beowulf,’ Ragnelle becomes even more ‘monstrous,’ precisely because she possesses both feminine and masculine qualities: Yet, this dualism also transforms her into an ‘other,’ because she defies fixed notions of gender.

Ragnelle embodies not only a physical and spiritual contradiction, but, figuratively, she possesses a gender contradiction. The dualities at play within Ragnelle’s character make her incapable of fulfilling our working definition of the ‘monstrous,’ and push her into the realm of the ‘other.’ I think we can regard Ragnelle as an ‘unfixed’ character in this story, and the dualities within her reinforce this. In addition to this, the dualities at play within Ragnelle also illustrate how she undergoes a number of figurative transformations, moves back and forth between a ‘beast’ and ‘beauty,’ even before her literal transformation at the end of the story.

Between A Brutal Death and An Accord

As I began the Romances, I started with the tale of Dame Ragnelle. I stopped early in, caught by what may be an irrelevant observation. Sir Gromer, having found Arthur alone in the woods, threatens the king with death for having given his lands to Gawain. Gromer could easily accomplish this feat, while Arthur may be a skilled fighter, it is just the two of them alone, without witnesses. This means, especially when coupled with Gromer's rage, that they are two men about to fight, and the winner will be determined by skill, passion, and luck, not by fear of murdering the king. Gromer has the edge, the anger, the opportunity, and he plans to use it. He is made even more angry by the fact that Arthur, who has such control over his fate, does not even know who he is until his name is revealed. A proud man such as Gromer would not want to be unrecognized, and most definitely not by his liege.
The immediacy of the fight is diffused by Arthur's argument that to kill him in this way is dishonorable, and Gromer proves that honor is of more importance than emotion by agreeing. But, Gromer agrees not just because his honor would suffer for such a slaying. He agrees because he believes that if he lets Arthur escape now, without some agreement or compensation, that the next time they meet, Gromer may well be killed for challenging, accosting and threatening Arthur in this manner. Gromer still does not back down. It is Arthur who is the peacemaker, offering "whate thou most crave" to appease his challenger. Arthur probably assumes that Gromer will be appeased by "lond" or "gold," and is willing to make this type of payment for his life. Arthur could even lie, agree to give Gromer what he wants, return to his men and send them out to dispatch Gromer. Gromer has other plans.
Gromer plays on the king's honor just as the king played on his; he asks for Arthur's word that he will "graunt me att a certeyn day...to shewe me att thy comyng whate wemen love best." Arthur is now excused from the fight in exchange for pondering this philosophical question. He has one year to find an answer to this question, or he forfeits his life. For the next year, Arthur's "lyfe is in my hand," and it was at this point where I began to link this year-long contract to the tradition of handfasting. Handfasting links a couple in marriage for a year and a day, so that they may try things out and if they choose in the end to be released, they can do so. Should children result from the union, they are legitimate issue. Setting this contract up in the beginning foreshadows the upcoming marital action, avoids the martial action, and establishes the philosophical terms of the period. Arthur has to answer the question that has plagued men (and women) in all times, a question for the ages, and success will restore his honor and redeem his life. This marriage between Gromer and Arthur will mirror another marriage in the story, and all seek to find mutual understanding and harmony. Gromer may feel that he has given Arthur a Herculean task, and that he is sure to emerge the victor, when really Gromer has bound them both. As our discussions of Beowulf attest, it is often hard to determine what makes a monster monstrous, and this accord proves (to me) that the differences between monster/other and not have less distance to traverse than we may assume.