"Than the Kynge and the Quene were gretely displeased with Sir Gawain for the sleynge of the lady; and there by ordynaunce of the Queene there was sette a queste of ladyes uppon Sir Gawain, and they juged hym for ever whyle he lyved with all ladyes and to fyght hir quarels, and ever that he sholde be curteyse and never to refuse mercy to hym that askith mercy." (70.1-70.6)

Now here's something you don't see every day. We're in Le Morte d'Arthur, and a hart (deer) and a hound run right into the middle of Arthur and Guinivere's wedding. One of his knights takes off with the hound, and suddenly a lady arrives on the scene, wanting to know where the hart and hound have disappeared to.

As if this chaos weren't bad enough, yet another knight enters the wedding scene. And he makes off with the lady. How rude.

Leave it to Merlin to solve this love-problem. He says that someone needs to bring back the hart, the hound, and the lady or else Arthur will suffer from extreme disgrace. Gawain the Great Knight responds to this call—as usual—and sets out on a quest to find the hart.

This is where things get really interesting. During his quest, Gawain meets a knight who kills his dogs. Obvi, Gawain attacks this guy, and refuses to show him any mercy. What kind of person kills someone's puppies? We here at Shmoop do not condone that kind of behavior.

Anyway, as the swords are flying, Gawain accidentally kills the other knight's lady. She steps in to the action to defend her man—even though he's indefensible because he just killed some dogs—and Gawain somehow murders the gal. Oopsie.

Really, Gawain? Really?

When Gawain gets back to Arthur's court and tells this story, he's in big trouble. For one thing, he shows up with the poor lady's head flung over his saddle. What a shame. Then, Queen Guinevere and her ladies dispense some justice of their own.

And that's where we come in.

The Ladies' Court

Does Gawain's punishment fit his crime? He committed a crime against a lady, and now he's being sentenced by a group of her metaphorical sisters. Sort of poetic, don't you think?

And don't jump to the conclusion that Guinevere's verdict doesn't carry the same weight as Arthur's would. Her words pack a punch. That power comes across clearly in the word choice here: "ordynaunce" and "juged." It's all legal and official and stuff.

Gawain's sentence isn't just any sentence. Strangely, it's a sort of permanent quest—a "queste of ladyes." Gawain must continually serve ladies in this way to get rid of the sin he's committed against them. It's not an "eye for an eye" punishment; this judgment is characteristic of rehabilitative justice.

After all, they could have just killed him.

Which brings us back to the question: what does all this have to do with antifeminism? Well, it frankly provides an antidote to it. While other texts might read the lady's original action, protecting her knight, as an action outside the bounds of her gender (ladies should leave the fighting to men, they would say), Malory here authorizes this act.

He even celebrates it by having Gawain embark on a neverending quest in the service of women, to do them "curteyse." And to "never to refuse mercy" to all the ladies who ask it of him. Super awesome, if you ask us. Stick it to those anti-feminists, Malory.

Beyond Courtly Love

This talk of "curteyse" and "mercy" and "fighting hir quarels" (meaning the ladies' quarrels) screams courtly love. Of course, that's one of the main genres Malory is drawing on here. Gawain is going to be in service to these ladies forever and ever because of what he's done.

Typical, right? No, not exactly.

This passage grants the women a bit more power than most females hold in the conventional courtly love tradition. Here, the text goes beyond the common stance that women are to be worshiped, and knights are to do service to them.

If you think about it, all that courtly love stuff really only pays lip service to women being more powerful than the swooning knight. In the end, the sisters' destinies are still shaped entirely by their knights. They don't have much actual power.

In this quote, though, women start to acquire some real oomph, even amidst all the flowery love business. They get to make real-life legal judgments against men, who are structurally higher on the food chain than they are.

This is one way that Le Morte D'Arthur pushes up against the boundaries of its genres, and the societal conventions of the Middle Ages. Albeit subtly, Malory sticks it to the antifeminist tradition here… at least in this example.

Rock on, dude.