The Romance of Tristan and Iseult
“King, drive me forth this fool!”
But the fool still laughed and cried:
“Queen, do you mind you of the dragon I slew in your land? I hid its
tongue in my hose, and, burnt of its venom, I fell by the roadside.
Ah! what a knight was I then, and it was you that succoured me.”
Iseult replied:
“Silence! You wrong all knighthood by your words, for you are a fool
from birth. Cursed be the seamen that brought you hither; rather
should they have cast you into the sea!”
“Queen Iseult,” he still said on, “do you mind you of your haste when
you would have slain me with my own sword? And of the Hair of Gold?
And of how I stood up to the seneschal?”
“Silence!” she said, “you drunkard. You were drunk last night, and so
you dreamt these dreams.”
“Drunk, and still so am I,” said he, “but of such a draught that never
can the influence fade. Queen Iseult, do you mind you of that hot and
open day on the high seas? We thirsted and we drank together from the
same cup, and since that day have I been drunk with an awful wine.”
When the Queen heard these words which she alone could understand, she
rose and would have gone.
But the King held her by her ermine cloak, and she sat down again.
And as the King had his fill of the fool he called for his falcons and
went to hunt; and Iseult said to him:
“Sire, I am weak and sad; let me be go rest in my room; I am tired of
these follies.”
And she went to her room in thought and sat upon her bed and mourned,
calling herself a slave and saying:
“Why was I born? Brangien, dear sister, life is so hard to me that
death were better! There is a fool without, shaven criss-cross, and
come in an evil hour, and he is warlock, for he knows in every part
myself and my whole life; he knows what you and I and Tristan only
know.”
Then Brangien said: “It may be Tristan.”
But—“No,” said the Queen, “for he was the first of knights, but this
fool is foul and made awry. Curse me his hour and the ship that
brought him hither.”
“My lady!” said Brangien, “soothe you. You curse over much these days.
May be he comes from Tristan?”
“I cannot tell. I know him not. But go find him, friend, and see if
you know him.”
So Brangien went to the hall where the fool still sat alone. Tristan
knew her and let fall his club and said:
“Brangien, dear Brangien, before God! have pity on me!”
“Foul fool,” she answered, “what devil taught you my name?”
“Lady,” he said, “I have known it long. By my head, that once was
fair, if I am mad the blame is yours, for it was yours to watch over
the wine we drank on the high seas. The cup was of silver and I held
it to Iseult and she drank. Do you remember, lady?”
“No,” she said, and as she trembled and left he called out: “Pity me!”
He followed and saw Iseult. He stretched out his arms, but in her
shame, sweating agony she drew back, and Tristan angered and said:
“I have lived too long, for I have seen the day that Iseult will
nothing of me. Iseult, how hard love dies! Iseult, a welling water
that floods and runs large is a mighty thing; on the day that it fails
it is nothing; so love that turns.”
But she said
“Brother, I look at you and doubt and tremble, and I know you not for
Tristan.”
“Queen Iseult, I am Tristan indeed that do love you; mind you for the
last time of the dwarf, and of the flower, and of the blood I shed in
my leap. Oh! and of that ring I took in kisses and in tears on the day
we parted. I have kept that jasper ring and asked it counsel.”
Then Iseult knew Tristan for what he was, and she said:
“Heart, you should have broken of sorrow not to have known the man who
has suffered so much for you. Pardon, my master and my friend.”
And her eyes darkened and she fell; but when the light returned she
was held by him who kissed her eyes and her face.
So passed they three full days. But, on the third, two maids that
watched them told the traitor Andret, and he put spies well-armed
before the women’s rooms. And when Tristan would enter they cried:
“Back, fool!”
But he brandished his club laughing, and said:
“What! May I not kiss the Queen who loves me and awaits me now?”
And they feared him for a mad fool, and he passed in through the door.
Then, being with the Queen for the last time, he held her in his arms
and said:
“Friend, I must fly, for they are wondering. I must fly, and perhaps
shall never see you more. My death is near, and far from you my death
will come of desire.”
“Oh friend,” she said, “fold your arms round me close and strain me so
that our hearts may break and our souls go free at last. Take me to
that happy place of which you told me long ago. The fields whence none
return, but where great singers sing their songs for ever. Take me
now.”
“I will take you to the Happy Palace of the living, Queen! The time is
near. We have drunk all joy and sorrow. The time is near. When it is
finished, if I call you, will you come, my friend?”
“Friend,” said she, “call me and you know that I shall come.”
“Friend,” said he, “God send you His reward.”
As he went out the spies would have held him; but he laughed aloud,
and flourished his club, and cried:
“Peace, gentlemen, I go and will not stay. My lady sends me to prepare
that shining house I vowed her, of crystal, and of rose shot through
with morning.”
And as they cursed and drave him, the fool went leaping on his way.
THE DEATH OF TRISTAN
When he was come back to Brittany, to Carhaix, it happened that
Tristan, riding to the aid of Kaherdin his brother in arms, fell into
ambush and was wounded by a poisoned spear; and many doctors came, but
none could cure him of the ill. And Tristan weakened and paled, and
his bones showed.
Then he knew that his life was going, and that he must die, and he had
a desire to see once more Iseult the Fair, but he could not seek her,
for the sea would have killed him in his weakness, and how could
Iseult come to him? And sad, and suffering the poison, he awaited
death.
He called Kaherdin secretly to tell him his pain, for they loved each
other with a loyal love; and as he would have no one in the room save
Kaherdin, nor even in the neighbouring rooms, Iseult of the White
Hands began to wonder. She was afraid and wished to hear, and she came
back and listened at the wall by Tristan’s bed; and as she listened
one of her maids kept watch for her.
Now, within, Tristan had gathered up his strength, and had half risen,
leaning against the wall, and Kaherdin wept beside him. They wept
their good comradeship, broken so soon, and their friendship: then
Tristan told Kaherdin of his love for that other Iseult, and of the
sorrow of his life.
“Fair friend and gentle,” said Tristan, “I am in a foreign land where
I have neither friend nor cousin, save you; and you alone in this
place have given me comfort. My life is going, and I wish to see once
more Iseult the Fair. Ah, did I but know of a messenger who would go
to her! For now I know that she will come to me. Kaherdin, my brother
in arms, I beg it of your friendship; try this thing for me, and if
you carry my word, I will become your liege, and I will cherish you
beyond all other men.”
And as Kaherdin saw Tristan broken down, his heart reproached him and
he said:
“Fair comrade, do not weep; I will do what you desire, even if it were
risk of death I would do it for you. Nor no distress nor anguish will
let me from doing it according to my power. Give me the word you send,
and I will make ready.”
And Tristan answered:
“Thank you, friend; this is my prayer: take this ring, it is a sign
between her and me; and when you come to her land pass yourself at
court for a merchant, and show her silk and stuffs, but make so that
she sees the ring, for then she will find some ruse by which to speak
to you in secret. Then tell her that my heart salutes her; tell her
that she alone can bring me comfort; tell her that if she does not
come I shall die. Tell her to remember our past time, and our great
sorrows, and all the joy there was in our loyal and tender love. And
tell her to remember that draught we drank together on the high seas.
For we drank our death together. Tell her to remember the oath I swore
to serve a single love, for I have kept that oath.”
But behind the wall, Iseult of the White Hands heard all these things;
and Tristan continued:
“Hasten, my friend, and come back quickly, or you will not see me
again. Take forty days for your term, but come back with Iseult the
Fair. And tell your sister nothing, or tell her that you seek some
doctor. Take my fine ship, and two sails with you, one white, one
black. And as you return, if you bring Iseult, hoist the white sail;
but if you bring her not, the black. Now I have nothing more to say,
but God guide you and bring you back safe.”
With the first fair wind Kaherdin took the open, weighed anchor and
hoisted sail, and ran with a light air and broke the seas. They bore
rich merchandise with them, dyed silks of rare colours, enamel of
Touraine and wines of Poitou, for by this ruse Kaherdin thought to
reach Iseult. Eight days and nights they ran full sail to Cornwall.
Now a woman’s wrath is a fearful thing, and all men fear it, for
according to her love, so will her vengeance be; and their love and
their hate come quickly, but their hate lives longer than their love;
and they will make play with love, but not with hate. So Iseult of the
White Hands, who had heard every word, and who had so loved Tristan,
waited her vengeance upon what she loved most in the world. But she
hid it all; and when the doors were open again she came to Tristan’s
bed and served him with food as a lover should, and spoke him gently
and kissed him on the lips, and asked him if Kaherdin would soon
return with one to cure him … but all day long she thought upon her
vengeance.
And Kaherdin sailed and sailed till he dropped anchor in the haven of
Tintagel. He landed and took with him a cloth of rare dye and a cup
well chiselled and worked, and made a present of them to King Mark,
and courteously begged of him his peace and safeguard that he might
traffick in his land; and the King gave him his peace before all the
men of his palace.
Then Kaherdin offered the Queen a buckle of fine gold; and “Queen,”
said he, “the gold is good.”
Then taking from his finger Tristan’s ring, he put it side by side
with the jewel and said:
“See, O Queen, the gold of the buckle is the finer gold; yet that ring
also has its worth.”
When Iseult saw what ring that was, her heart trembled and her colour
changed, and fearing what might next be said she drew Kaherdin apart
near a window, as if to see and bargain the better; and Kaherdin said
to her, low down:
“Lady, Tristan is wounded of a poisoned spear and is about to die. He
sends you word that you alone can bring him comfort, and recalls to
you the great sorrows that you bore together. Keep you the ring—it is
yours.”
But Iseult answered, weakening:
“Friend, I will follow you; get ready your ship to-morrow at dawn.”
And on the morrow at dawn they raised anchor, stepped mast, and
hoisted sail, and happily the barque left land.
But at Carhaix Tristan lay and longed for Iseult’s coming. Nothing now
filled him any more, and if he lived it was only as awaiting her; and
day by day he sent watchers to the shore to see if some ship came, and
to learn the colour of her sail. There was no other thing left in his
heart.
He had himself carried to the cliff of the Penmarks, where it
overlooks the sea, and all the daylight long he gazed far off over the
water.
Hear now a tale most sad and pitiful to all who love. Already was
Iseult near; already the cliff of the Penmarks showed far away, and
the ship ran heartily, when a storm wind rose on a sudden and grew,