The Romance of Tristan and Iseult
aboard and a little serving maid, when Tristan came near the Queen to
calm her sorrow. The sun was hot above them and they were athirst and,
as they called, the little maid looked about for drink for them and
found that pitcher which the mother of Iseult had given into
Brangien’s keeping. And when she came on it, the child cried, “I have
found you wine!” Now she had found not wine — but Passion and Joy most
sharp, and Anguish without end, and Death.
The Queen drank deep of that draught and gave it to Tristan and he
drank also long and emptied it all.
Brangien came in upon them; she saw them gazing at each other in
silence as though ravished and apart; she saw before them the pitcher
standing there; she snatched it up and cast it into the shuddering sea
and cried aloud: “Cursed be the day I was born and cursed the day that
first I trod this deck. Iseult, my friend, and Tristan, you, you have
drunk death together.”
And once more the bark ran free for Tintagel. But it seemed to Tristan
as though an ardent briar, sharp-thorned but with flower most sweet
smelling, drave roots into his blood and laced the lovely body of
Iseult all round about it and bound it to his own and to his every
thought and desire. And he thought, “Felons, that charged me with
coveting King Mark’s land, I have come lower by far, for it is not his
land I covet. Fair uncle, who loved me orphaned ere ever you knew in
me the blood of your sister Blanchefleur, you that wept as you bore me
to that boat alone, why did you not drive out the boy that was to
betray you? Ah! What thought was that! Iseult is yours and I am but
your vassal; Iseult is yours and I am your son; Iseult is yours and
may not love me.”
But Iseult loved him, though she would have hated. She could not hate,
for a tenderness more sharp than hatred tore her.
And Brangien watched them in anguish, suffering more cruelly because
she alone knew the depth of evil done.
Two days she watched them, seeing them refuse all food or comfort and
seeking each other as blind men seek, wretched apart and together more
wretched still, for then they trembled each for the first avowal.
On the third day, as Tristan neared the tent on deck where Iseult sat,
she saw him coming and she said to him, very humbly, “Come in, my
lord.”
“Queen,” said Tristan, “why do you call me lord? Am I not your liege
and vassal, to revere and serve and cherish you as my lady and Queen?”
But Iseult answered, “No, you know that you are my lord and my master,
and I your slave. Ah, why did I not sharpen those wounds of the
wounded singer, or let die that dragon-slayer in the grasses of the
marsh? But then I did not know what now I know!”
“And what is it that you know, Iseult?”
She laid her arm upon Tristan’s shoulder, the light of her eyes was
drowned and her lips trembled.
“The love of you,” she said. Whereat he put his lips to hers.
But as they thus tasted their first joy, Brangien, that watched them,
stretched her arms and cried at their feet in tears:
“Stay and return if still you can … But oh! that path has no
returning. For already Love and his strength drag you on and now
henceforth forever never shall you know joy without pain again. The
wine possesses you, the draught your mother gave me, the draught the
King alone should have drunk with you: but that old Enemy has tricked
us, all us three; friend Tristan, Iseult my friend, for that bad ward
I kept take here my body and my life, for through me and in that cup
you have drunk not love alone, but love and death together.”
The lovers held each other; life and desire trembled through their
youth, and Tristan said, “Well then, come Death.”
And as evening fell, upon the bark that heeled and ran to King Mark’s
land, they gave themselves up utterly to love.
THE TALL PINE-TREE
As King Mark came down to greet Iseult upon the shore, Tristan took
her hand and led her to the King and the King took seizin of her,
taking her hand. He led her in great pomp to his castle of Tintagel,
and as she came in hall amid the vassals her beauty shone so that the
walls were lit as they are lit at dawn. Then King Mark blessed those
swallows which, by happy courtesy, had brought the Hair of Gold, and
Tristan also he blessed, and the hundred knights who, on that
adventurous bark, had gone to find him joy of heart and of eyes; yet
to him also that ship was to bring sting, torment and mourning.
And on the eighteenth day, having called his Barony together he took
Iseult to wife. But on the wedding night, to save her friend, Brangien
took her place in the darkness, for her remorse demanded even this
from her; nor was the trick discovered.
Then Iseult lived as a queen, but lived in sadness. She had King
Mark’s tenderness and the barons’ honour; the people also loved her;
she passed her days amid the frescoes on the walls and floors all
strewn with flowers; good jewels had she and purple cloth and tapestry
of Hungary and Thessaly too, and songs of harpers, and curtains upon
which were worked leopards and eagles and popinjays and all the beasts
of sea and field. And her love too she had, love high and splendid,
for as is the custom among great lords, Tristan could ever be near
her. At his leisure and his dalliance, night and day: for he slept in
the King’s chamber as great lords do, among the lieges and the
councillors. Yet still she feared; for though her love were secret and
Tristan unsuspected (for who suspects a son?) Brangien knew. And
Brangien seemed in the Queen’s mind like a witness spying; for
Brangien alone knew what manner of life she led, and held her at mercy
so. And the Queen thought Ah, if some day she should weary of serving
as a slave the bed where once she passed for Queen … If Tristan should
die from her betrayal! So fear maddened the Queen, but not in truth
the fear of Brangien who was loyal; her own heart bred the fear.
Not Brangien who was faithful, not Brangien, but themselves had these
lovers to fear, for hearts so stricken will lose their vigilance. Love
pressed them hard, as thirst presses the dying stag to the stream;
love dropped upon them from high heaven, as a hawk slipped after long
hunger falls right upon the bird. And love will not be hidden.
Brangien indeed by her prudence saved them well, nor ever were the
Queen and her lover unguarded. But in every hour and place every man
could see Love terrible, that rode them, and could see in these lovers
their every sense overflowing like new wine working in the vat.
The four felons at court who had hated Tristan of old for his prowess,
watched the Queen; they had guessed that great love, and they burnt
with envy and hatred and now a kind of evil joy. They planned to give
news of their watching to the King, to see his tenderness turned to
fury, Tristan thrust out or slain, and the Queen in torment; for
though they feared Tristan their hatred mastered their fear; and, on a
day, the four barons called King Mark to parley, and Andret said:
“Fair King, your heart will be troubled and we four also mourn; yet
are we bound to tell you what we know. You have placed your trust in
Tristan and Tristan would shame you. In vain we warned you. For the
love of one man you have mocked ties of blood and all your Barony.
Learn then that Tristan loves the Queen; it is truth proved and many a
word is passing on it now.”
The royal King shrank and answered:
“Coward! What thought was that? Indeed I have placed my trust in
Tristan. And rightly, for on the day when the Morholt offered combat
to you all, you hung your heads and were dumb, and you trembled before
him; but Tristan dared him for the honour of this land, and took
mortal wounds. Therefore do you hate him, and therefore do I cherish
him beyond thee, Andret, and beyond any other; but what then have you
seen or heard or known?”
“Naught, lord, save what your eyes could see or your ears hear. Look
you and listen, Sire, if there is yet time.”
And they left him to taste the poison.
Then King Mark watched the Queen and Tristan; but Brangien noting it
warned them both and the King watched in vain, so that, soon wearying
of an ignoble task, but knowing (alas!) that he could not kill his
uneasy thought, he sent for Tristan and said:
“Tristan, leave this castle; and having left it, remain apart and do
not think to return to it, and do not repass its moat or boundaries.
Felons have charged you with an awful treason, but ask me nothing; I
could not speak their words without shame to us both, and for your
part seek you no word to appease. I have not believed them … had I
done so … But their evil words have troubled all my soul and only by
your absence can my disquiet be soothed. Go, doubtless I will soon
recall you. Go, my son, you are still dear to me.
When the felons heard the news they said among themselves, “He is
gone, the wizard; he is driven out. Surely he will cross the sea on
far adventures to carry his traitor service to some distant King.”
But Tristan had not strength to depart altogether; and when he had
crossed the moats and boundaries of the Castle he knew he could go no
further. He stayed in Tintagel town and lodged with Gorvenal in a
burgess’ house, and languished oh! more wounded than when in that past
day the shaft of the Morholt had tainted his body.
In the close towers Iseult the Fair drooped also, but more wretched
still. For it was hers all day long to feign laughter and all night
long to conquer fever and despair. And all night as she lay by King
Mark’s side, fever still kept her waking, and she stared at darkness.
She longed to fly to Tristan and she dreamt dreams of running to the
gates and of finding there sharp scythes, traps of the felons, that
cut her tender knees; and she dreamt of weakness and falling, and that
her wounds had left her blood upon the ground. Now these lovers would
have died, but Brangien succoured them. At peril of her life she found
the house where Tristan lay. There Gorvenal opened to her very gladly,
knowing what salvation she could bring.
So she found Tristan, and to save the lovers she taught him a device,
nor was ever known a more subtle ruse of love.
Behind the castle of Tintagel was an orchard fenced around and wide
and all closed in with stout and pointed stakes and numberless trees
were there and fruit on them, birds and clusters of sweet grapes. And
furthest from the castle, by the stakes of the pallisade, was a tall
pine-tree, straight and with heavy branches spreading from its trunk.
At its root a living spring welled calm into a marble round, then ran
between two borders winding, throughout the orchard and so, on, till
it flowed at last within the castle and through the women’s rooms.
And every evening, by Brangien’s counsel, Tristan cut him twigs and
bark, leapt the sharp stakes and, having come beneath the pine, threw
them into the clear spring; they floated light as foam down the stream
to the women’s rooms; and Iseult watched for their coming, and on
those evenings she would wander out into the orchard and find her
friend. Lithe and in fear would she come, watching at every step for
what might lurk in the trees observing, foes or the felons whom she
knew, till she spied Tristan; and the night and the branches of the
pine protected them.
And so she said one night: “Oh, Tristan, I have heard that the castle
is faëry and that twice a year it vanishes away. So is it vanished now
and this is that enchanted orchard of which the harpers sing.” And as
she said it, the sentinels bugled dawn.
Iseult had refound her joy. Mark’s thought of ill-ease grew faint; but
the felons felt or knew which way lay truth, and they guessed that
Tristan had met the Queen. Till at last Duke Andret (whom God shame)
said to his peers: