The Romance of Tristan and Iseult
the castle and rode to a pinewood near the enemy’s tents. And sprang
from ambush and captured a waggon of Count Riol’s food; and from that
day, by escapade and ruse they would carry tents and convoys and kill
off men, nor ever come back without some booty; so that Tristan and
Kaherdin began to be brothers in arms, and kept faith and tenderness,
as history tells. And as they came back from these rides, talking
chivalry together, often did Kaherdin praise to his comrade his
sister, Iseult of the White Hands, for her simplicity and beauty.
One day, as the dawn broke, a sentinel ran from the tower through the
halls crying:
“Lords, you have slept too long; rise, for an assault is on.”
And knights and burgesses armed, and ran to the walls, and saw helmets
shining on the plain, and pennons streaming crimson, like flames, and
all the host of Riol in its array. Then the Duke and Kaherdin deployed
their horsemen before the gates, and from a bow-length off they
stooped, and spurred and charged, and they put their lances down
together and the arrows fell on them like April rain.
Now Tristan had armed himself among the last of those the sentinel had
roused, and he laced his shoes of steel, and put on his mail, and his
spurs of gold, his hauberk, and his helm over the gorget, and he
mounted and spurred, with shield on breast, crying:
“Carhaix!”
And as he came, he saw Duke Riol charging, rein free, at Kaherdin, but
Tristan came in between. So they met, Tristan and Duke Riol. And at
the shock, Tristan’s lance shivered, but Riol’s lance struck Tristan’s
horse just where the breast-piece runs, and laid it on the field.
But Tristan, standing, drew his sword, his burnished sword, and said:
“Coward! Here is death ready for the man that strikes the horse before
the rider.”
But Riol answered:
“I think you have lied, my lord!”
And he charged him.
And as he passed, Tristan let fall his sword so heavily upon his helm
that he carried away the crest and the nasal, but the sword slipped on
the mailed shoulder, and glanced on the horse, and killed it, so that
of force Duke Riol must slip the stirrup and leap and feel the ground.
Then Riol too was on his feet, and they both fought hard in their
broken mail, their ’scutcheons torn and their helmets loosened and
lashing with their dented swords, till Tristan struck Riol just where
the helmet buckles, and it yielded and the blow was struck so hard
that the baron fell on hands and knees; but when he had risen again,
Tristan struck him down once more with a blow that split the helm, and
it split the headpiece too, and touched the skull; then Riol cried
mercy and begged his life, and Tristan took his sword.
So he promised to enter Duke Hoël’s keep and to swear homage again,
and to restore what he had wasted; and by his order the battle ceased,
and his host went off discomfited.
Now when the victors were returned Kaherdin said to his father:
“Sire, keep you Tristan. There is no better knight, and your land has
need of such courage.”
So when the Duke had taken counsel with his barons, he said to Tristan
“Friend, I owe you my land, but I shall be quit with you if you will
take my daughter, Iseult of the White Hands, who comes of kings and of
queens, and of dukes before them in blood.”
And Tristan answered:
“I will take her, Sire.”
So the day was fixed, and the Duke came with his friends and Tristan
with his, and before all, at the gate of the minster, Tristan wed
Iseult of the White Hands, according to the Church’s law.
But that same night, as Tristan’s valets undressed him, it happened
that in drawing his arm from the sleeve they drew off and let fall
from his finger the ring of green jasper, the ring of Iseult the Fair.
It sounded on the stones, and Tristan looked and saw it. Then his
heart awoke and he knew that he had done wrong. For he remembered the
day when Iseult the Fair had given him the ring. It was in that forest
where, for his sake, she had led the hard life with him, and that
night he saw again the hut in the wood of Morois, and he was bitter
with himself that ever he had accused her of treason; for now it was
he that had betrayed, and he was bitter with himself also in pity for
this new wife and her simplicity and beauty. See how these two Iseults
had met him in an evil hour, and to both had he broken faith!
Now Iseult of the White Hands said to him, hearing him sigh:
“Dear lord, have I hurt you in anything? Will you not speak me a
single word?”
But Tristan answered: “Friend, do not be angry with me; for once in
another land I fought a foul dragon and was near to death, and I
thought of the Mother of God, and I made a vow to Her that, should I
ever wed, I would spend the first holy nights of my wedding in prayer
and in silence.”
“Why,” said Iseult, “that was a good vow.”
And Tristan watched through the night.
THE MADNESS OF TRISTAN
Within her room at Tintagel, Iseult the Fair sighed for the sake of
Tristan, and named him, her desire, of whom for two years she had had
no word, whether he lived or no.
Within her room at Tintagel Iseult the Fair sat singing a song she had
made. She sang of Guron taken and killed for his love, and how by
guile the Count gave Guron’s heart to her to eat, and of her woe. The
Queen sang softly, catching the harp’s tone; her hands were cunning
and her song good; she sang low down and softly.
Then came in Kariado, a rich count from a far-off island, that had
fared to Tintagel to offer the Queen his service, and had spoken of
love to her, though she disdained his folly. He found Iseult as she
sang, and laughed to her:
“Lady, how sad a song! as sad as the Osprey’s; do they not say he
sings for death? and your song means that to me; I die for you.”
And Iseult said: “So let it be and may it mean so; for never come you
here but to stir in me anger or mourning. Ever were you the screech
owl or the Osprey that boded ill when you spoke of Tristan; what news
bear you now?”
And Kariado answered:
“You are angered, I know not why, but who heeds your words? Let the
Osprey bode me death; here is the evil news the screech owl brings.
Lady Iseult, Tristan, your friend is lost to you. He has wed in a far
land. So seek you other where, for he mocks your love. He has wed in
great pomp Iseult of the White Hands, the King of Brittany’s
daughter.’’
And Kariado went off in anger, but Iseult bowed her head and broke
into tears.
Now far from Iseult, Tristan languished, till on a day he must needs
see her again. Far from her, death came surely; and he had rather die
at once than day by day. And he desired some death, but that the Queen
might know it was in finding her; then would death come easily.
So he left Carhaix secretly, telling no man, neither his kindred nor
even Kaherdin, his brother in arms. He went in rags afoot (for no one
marks the beggar on the high road) till he came to the shore of the
sea.
He found in a haven a great ship ready, the sail was up and the
anchor-chain short at the bow.
“God save you, my lords,” he said, “and send you a good journey. To
what land sail you now?”
“To Tintagel,” they said.
Then he cried out:
“Oh, my lords! take me with you thither!”
And he went aboard, and a fair wind filled the sail, and she ran five
days and nights for Cornwall, till, on the sixth day, they dropped
anchor in Tintagel Haven. The castle stood above, fenced all around.
There was but the one armed gate, and two knights watched it night and
day. So Tristan went ashore and sat upon the beach, and a man told him
that Mark was there and had just held his court.
“But where,” said he, “is Iseult, the Queen, and her fair maid,
Brangien?”
“In Tintagel too,” said the other, “and I saw them lately; the Queen
sad, as she always is.”
At the hearing of the name, Tristan suffered, and he thought that
neither by guile nor courage could he see that friend, for Mark would
kill him.
And he thought, “Let him kill me and let me die for her, since every
day I die. But you, Iseult, even if you knew me here, would you not
drive me out?” And he thought, “I will try guile. I will seem mad, but
with a madness that shall be great wisdom. And many shall think me a
fool that have less wit than I.”
Just then a fisherman passed in a rough cloak and cape, and Tristan
seeing him, took him aside, and said:
“Friend, will you not change clothes?”
And as the fisherman found it a very good bargain, he said in answer:
“Yes, friend, gladly.”
And he changed and ran off at once for fear of losing his gain. Then
Tristan shaved his wonderful hair; he shaved it close to his head and
left a cross all bald, and he rubbed his face with magic herbs
distilled in his own country, and it changed in colour and skin so
that none could know him, and he made him a club from a young tree
torn from a hedge-row and hung it to his neck, and went bare-foot
towards the castle.
The porter made sure that he had to do with a fool and said:
“Good morrow, fool, where have you been this long while?”
And he answered:
“At the Abbot of St. Michael’s wedding, and he wed an abbess, large
and veiled. And from the Alps to Mount St. Michael how they came, the
priests and abbots, monks and regulars, all dancing on the green with
croziers and with staves under the high trees’ shade. But I left them
all to come hither, for I serve at the King’s board to-day.”
Then the porter said:
“Come in, lord fool; the Hairy Urgan’s son, I know, and like your
father.”
And when he was within the courts the serving men ran after him and
cried:
“The fool! the fool!”
But he made play with them though they cast stones and struck him as
they laughed, and in the midst of laughter and their cries, as the
rout followed him, he came to that hall where, at the Queen’s side,
King Mark sat under his canopy.
And as he neared the door with his club at his neck, the King said:
“Here is a merry fellow, let him in.”
And they brought him in, his club at his neck. And the King said:
“Friend, well come; what seek you here?”
“Iseult,” said he, “whom I love so well; I bring my sister with me,
Brunehild, the beautiful. Come, take her, you are weary of the Queen.
Take you my sister and give me here Iseult, and I will hold her and
serve you for her love.”
The King said laughing:
“Fool, if I gave you the Queen, where would you take her, pray?”
“Oh! very high,” he said, “between the clouds and heaven, into a fair
chamber glazed. The beams of the sun shine through it, yet the winds
do not trouble it at all. There would I bear the Queen into that
crystal chamber of mine all compact of roses and the morning.”
The King and his barons laughed and said:
“Here is a good fool at no loss for words.”
But the fool as he sat at their feet gazed at Iseult most fixedly.
“Friend,” said King Mark, “what warrant have you that the Queen would
heed so foul a fool as you?”
“O! Sire,” he answered gravely, “many deeds have I done for her, and
my madness is from her alone.”
“What is your name?” they said, and laughed.
“Tristan,” said he, “that loved the Queen so well, and still till
death will love her.”
But at the name the Queen angered and weakened together, and said:
“Get hence for an evil fool!”
But the fool, marking her anger, went on:
“Queen Iseult, do you mind the day, when, poisoned by the Morholt’s
spear, I took my harp to sea and fell upon your shore? Your mother
healed me with strange drugs. Have you no memory, Queen?”
But Iseult answered:
“Out, fool, out! Your folly and you have passed the bounds!”
But the fool, still playing, pushed the barons out, crying:
“Out! madmen, out! Leave me to counsel with Iseult, since I come here
for the love of her!”
And as the King laughed, Iseult blushed and said: