The Romance of Tristan and Iseult
him, he summoned his council and his barons and said this:
“Lords of the Lyonesse, I have retaken this place and I have avenged
King Rivalen by the help of God and of you. But two men Rohalt and
King Mark of Cornwall nourished me, an orphan, and a wandering boy. So
should I call them also fathers. Now a free man has two things
thoroughly his own, his body and his land. To Rohalt then, here, I
will release my land. Do you hold it, father, and your son shall hold
it after you. But my body I give up to King Mark. I will leave this
country, dear though it be, and in Cornwall I will serve King Mark as
my lord. Such is my judgment, but you, my lords of Lyonesse, are my
lieges, and owe me counsel; if then, some one of you will counsel me
another thing let him rise and speak.”
But all the barons praised him, though they wept; and taking with him
Gorvenal only, Tristan set sail for King Mark’s land.
THE MORHOLT OUT OF IRELAND
When Tristan came back to that land, King Mark and all his Barony were
mourning; for the King of Ireland had manned a fleet to ravage
Cornwall, should King Mark refuse, as he had refused these fifteen
years, to pay a tribute his fathers had paid. Now that year this King
had sent to Tintagel, to carry his summons, a giant knight; the
Morholt, whose sister he had wed, and whom no man had yet been able to
overcome: so King Mark had summoned all the barons of his land to
Council, by letters sealed.
On the day assigned, when the barons were gathered in hall, and when
the King had taken his throne, the Morholt said these things:
“King Mark, hear for the last time the summons of the King of Ireland,
my lord. He arraigns you to pay at last that which you have owed so
long, and because you have refused it too long already he bids you
give over to me this day three hundred youths and three hundred
maidens drawn by lot from among the Cornish folk. But if so be that
any would prove by trial of combat that the King of Ireland receives
this tribute without right, I will take up his wager. Which among you,
my Cornish lords, will fight to redeem this land?”
The barons glanced at each other but all were silent.
Then Tristan knelt at the feet of King Mark and said:
“Lord King, by your leave I will do battle.”
And in vain would King Mark have turned him from his purpose,
thinking, how could even valour save so young a knight? But he threw
down his gage to the Morholt, and the Morholt took up the gage.
On the appointed day he had himself clad for a great feat of arms in a
hauberk and in a steel helm, and he entered a boat and drew to the
islet of St. Samson’s, where the knights were to fight each to each
alone. Now the Morholt had hoisted to his mast a sail of rich purple,
and coming fast to land, he moored his boat on the shore. But Tristan
pushed off his own boat adrift with his feet, and said:
“One of us only will go hence alive. One boat will serve.”
And each rousing the other to the fray they passed into the isle.
No man saw the sharp combat; but thrice the salt sea-breeze had wafted
or seemed to waft a cry of fury to the land, when at last towards the
hour of noon the purple sail showed far off; the Irish boat appeared
from the island shore, and there rose a clamour of “the Morholt!” When
suddenly, as the boat grew larger on the sight and topped a wave, they
saw that Tristan stood on the prow holding a sword in his hand. He
leapt ashore, and as the mothers kissed the steel upon his feet he
cried to the Morholt’s men:
“My lords of Ireland, the Morholt fought well. See here, my sword is
broken and a splinter of it stands fast in his head. Take you that
steel, my lords; it is the tribute of Cornwall.”
Then he went up to Tintagel and as he went the people he had freed
waved green boughs, and rich cloths were hung at the windows. But when
Tristan reached the castle with joy, songs and joy-bells sounding
about him, he drooped in the arms of King Mark, for the blood ran from
his wounds.
The Morholt’s men, they landed in Ireland quite cast down. For when
ever he came back into Whitehaven the Morholt had been wont to take
joy in the sight of his clan upon the shore, of the Queen his sister,
and of his niece Iseult the Fair. Tenderly had they cherished him of
old, and had he taken some wound, they healed him, for they were
skilled in balms and potions. But now their magic was vain, for he lay
dead and the splinter of the foreign brand yet stood in his skull till
Iseult plucked it out and shut it in a chest.
From that day Iseult the Fair knew and hated the name of Tristan of
Lyonesse.
But over in Tintagel Tristan languished, for there trickled a
poisonous blood from his wound. The doctors found that the Morholt had
thrust into him a poisoned barb, and as their potions and their
theriac could never heal him they left him in God’s hands. So hateful
a stench came from his wound that all his dearest friends fled him,
all save King Mark, Gorvenal and Dinas of Lidan. They always could
stay near his couch because their love overcame their abhorrence. At
last Tristan had himself carried into a boat apart on the shore; and
lying facing the sea he awaited death, for he thought: “I must die;
but it is good to see the sun and my heart is still high. I would like
to try the sea that brings all chances. … I would have the sea bear me
far off alone, to what land no matter, so that it heal me of my
wound.”
He begged so long that King Mark accepted his desire. He bore him into
a boat with neither sail nor oar, and Tristan wished that his harp
only should be placed beside him: for sails he could not lift, nor oar
ply, nor sword wield; and as a seaman on some long voyage casts to the
sea a beloved companion dead, so Gorvenal pushed out to sea that boat
where his dear son lay; and the sea drew him away.
For seven days and seven nights the sea so drew him; at times to charm
his grief, he harped; and when at last the sea brought him near a
shore where fishermen had left their port that night to fish far out,
they heard as they rowed a sweet and strong and living tune that ran
above the sea, and feathering their oars they listened immovable.
In the first whiteness of the dawn they saw the boat at large: she
went at random and nothing seemed to live in her except the voice of
the harp. But as they neared, the air grew weaker and died; and when
they hailed her Tristan’s hands had fallen lifeless on the strings
though they still trembled. The fishermen took him in and bore him
back to port, to their lady who was merciful and perhaps would heal
him.
It was that same port of Whitehaven where the Morholt lay, and their
lady was Iseult the Fair.
She alone, being skilled in philtres, could save Tristan, but she
alone wished him dead. When Tristan knew himself again (for her art
restored him) he knew himself to be in the land of peril. But he was
yet strong to hold his own and found good crafty words. He told a tale
of how he was a seer that had taken passage on a merchant ship and
sailed to Spain to learn the art of reading all the stars,—of how
pirates had boarded the ship and of how, though wounded, he had fled
into that boat. He was believed, nor did any of the Morholt’s men know
his face again, so hardly had the poison used it. But when, after
forty days, Iseult of the Golden Hair had all but healed him, when
already his limbs had recovered and the grace of youth returned, he
knew that he must escape, and he fled and after many dangers he came
again before Mark the King.
THE QUEST OF THE LADY WITH THE HAIR OF GOLD
My lords, there were in the court of King Mark four barons the basest
of men, who hated Tristan with a hard hate, for his greatness and for
the tender love the King bore him. And well I know their names:
Andret, Guenelon, Gondoïne and Denoalen. They knew that the King had
intent to grow old childless and to leave his land to Tristan; and
their envy swelled and by lies they angered the chief men of Cornwall
against Tristan. They said:
“There have been too many marvels in this man’s life. It was marvel
enough that he beat the Morholt, but by what sorcery did he try the
sea alone at the point of death, or which of us, my lords, could
voyage without mast or sail? They say that warlocks can. It was sure a
warlock feat, and that is a warlock harp of his pours poison daily
into the King’s heart. See how he has bent that heart by power and
chain of sorcery! He will be king yet, my lords, and you will hold
your lands of a wizard.”
They brought over the greater part of the barons and these pressed
King Mark to take to wife some king’s daughter who should give him an
heir, or else they threatened to return each man into his keep and
wage him war. But the King turned against them and swore in his heart
that so long as his dear nephew lived no king’s daughter should come
to his bed. Then in his turn did Tristan (in his shame to be thought
to serve for hire) threaten that if the King did not yield to his
barons, he would himself go over sea serve some great king. At this,
King Mark made a term with his barons and gave them forty days to hear
his decision.
On the appointed day he waited alone in his chamber and sadly mused:
“Where shall I find a king’s daughter so fair and yet so distant that
I may feign to wish her my wife?”
Just then by his window that looked upon the sea two building swallows
came in quarrelling together. Then, startled, they flew out, but had
let fall from their beaks a woman’s hair, long and fine, and shining
like a beam of light.
King Mark took it, and called his barons and Tristan and said:
“To please you, lords, I will take a wife; but you must seek her whom
I have chosen.”
“Fair lord, we wish it all,” they said, “and who may she be?”
“Why,” said he, “she whose hair this is; nor will I take another.”
“And whence, lord King, comes this Hair of Gold; who brought it and
from what land?”
“It comes, my lords, from the Lady with the Hair of Gold, the swallows
brought it me. They know from what country it came.”
Then the barons saw themselves mocked and cheated, and they turned
with sneers to Tristan, for they thought him to have counselled the
trick. But Tristan, when he had looked on the Hair of Gold, remembered
Iseult the Fair and smiled and said this:
“King Mark, can you not see that the doubts of these lords shame me?
You have designed in vain. I will go seek the Lady with the Hair of
Gold. The search is perilous: never the less, my uncle, I would once
more put my body and my life into peril for you; and that your barons
may know I love you loyally, I take this oath, to die on the adventure
or to bring back to this castle of Tintagel the Queen with that fair
hair.”
He fitted out a great ship and loaded it with corn and wine, with
honey and all manner of good things; he manned it with Gorvenal and a
hundred young knights of high birth, chosen among the bravest, and he
clothed them in coats of home-spun and in hair cloth so that they
seemed merchants only: but under the deck he hid rich cloth of gold
and scarlet as for a great king’s messengers.
When the ship had taken the sea the helmsman asked him:
“Lord, to what land shall I steer?”
“Sir,” said he, “steer for Ireland, straight for Whitehaven harbour.”
At first Tristan made believe to the men of Whitehaven that his
friends were merchants of England come peacefully to barter; but as
these strange merchants passed the day in the useless games of
draughts and chess, and seemed to know dice better than the bargain
price of corn, Tristan feared discovery and knew not how to pursue his
quest.
Now it chanced once upon the break of day that he heard a cry so
terrible that one would have called it a demon’s cry; nor had he ever