The Romance of Tristan and Iseult
Then Tristan was glad, and henceforward from that day no one dared
enter the wild wood, for terror guarded it and the lovers were lords
of it all: and then it was that Tristan fashioned his bow “Failnaught”
which struck home always, man or beast, whatever it aimed at.
My lords, upon a summer day, when mowing is, a little after
Whitsuntide, as the birds sang dawn Tristan left his hut and girt his
sword on him, and took his bow “Failnaught” and went off to hunt in
the wood; but before evening, great evil was to fall on him, for no
lovers ever loved so much or paid their love so dear.
When Tristan came back, broken by the heat, the Queen said
“Friend, where have you been?”
“Hunting a hart,” he said, “that wearied me. I would lie down and
sleep.”
So she lay down, and he, and between them Tristan put his naked sword,
and on the Queen’s finger was that ring of gold with emeralds set
therein, which Mark had given her on her bridal day; but her hand was
so wasted that the ring hardly held. And no wind blew, and no leaves
stirred, but through a crevice in the branches a sunbeam fell upon the
face of Iseult and it shone white like ice. Now a woodman found in the
wood a place where the leaves were crushed, where the lovers had
halted and slept, and he followed their track and found the hut, and
saw them sleeping and fled off, fearing the terrible awakening of that
lord. He fled to Tintagel, and going up the stairs of the palace,
found the King as he held his pleas in hall amid the vassals
assembled.
“Friend,” said the King, “what came you hither to seek in haste and
breathless, like a huntsman that has followed the dogs afoot? Have you
some wrong to right, or has any man driven you?”
But the woodman took him aside and said low down:
“I have seen the Queen and Tristan, and I feared and fled.”
“Where saw you them?”
“In a hut in Morois, they slept side by side. Come swiftly and take
your vengeance.”
“Go,” said the King, “and await me at the forest edge where the red
cross stands, and tell no man what you have seen. You shall have gold
and silver at your will.”
The King had saddled his horse and girt his sword and left the city
alone, and as he rode alone he minded him of the night when he had
seen Tristan under the great pine-tree, and Iseult with her clear
face, and he thought:
“If I find them I will avenge this awful wrong.”
At the foot of the red cross he came to the woodman and said:
“Go first, and lead me straight and quickly.”
The dark shade of the great trees wrapt them round, and as the King
followed the spy he felt his sword, and trusted it for the great blows
it had struck of old; and surely had Tristan wakened, one of the two
had stayed there dead. Then the woodman said:
“King, we are near.”
He held the stirrup, and tied the rein to a green apple-tree, and saw
in a sunlit glade the hut with its flowers and leaves. Then the King
cast his cloak with its fine buckle of gold and drew his sword from
its sheath and said again in his heart that they or he should die. And
he signed to the woodman to be gone.
He came alone into the hut, sword bare, and watched them as they lay:
but he saw that they were apart, and he wondered because between them
was the naked blade.
Then he said to himself: “My God, I may not kill them. For all the
time they have lived together in this wood, these two lovers, yet is
the sword here between them, and throughout Christendom men know that
sign. Therefore I will not slay, for that would be treason and wrong,
but I will do so that when they wake they may know that I found them
here, asleep, and spared them and that God had pity on them both.”
And still the sunbeam fell upon the white face of Iseult, and the King
took his ermined gloves and put them up against the crevice whence it
shone.
Then in her sleep a vision came to Iseult. She seemed to be in a great
wood and two lions near her fought for her, and she gave a cry and
woke, and the gloves fell upon her breast; and at the cry Tristan
woke, and made to seize his sword, and saw by the golden hilt that it
was the King’s. And the Queen saw on her finger the King’s ring, and
she cried:
“O, my lord, the King has found us here!”
And Tristan said:
“He has taken my sword; he was alone, but he will return, and will
burn us before the people. Let us fly.”
So by great marches with Gorvenal alone they fled towards Wales.
OGRIN THE HERMIT
After three days it happened that Tristan, in following a wounded deer
far out into the wood, was caught by night-fall, and took to thinking
thus under the dark wood alone:
“It was not fear that moved the King … he had my sword and I slept …
and had he wished to slay, why did he leave me his own blade? … O, my
father, my father, I know you now. There was pardon in your heart, and
tenderness and pity … yet how was that, for who could forgive in this
matter without shame? … It was not pardon it was understanding; the
faggot and the chantry leap and the leper ambush have shown him God
upon our side. Also I think he remembered the boy who long ago harped
at his feet, and my land of Lyonesse which I left for him; the
Morholt’s spear and blood shed in his honour. He remembered how I made
no avowal, but claimed a trial at arms, and the high nature of his
heart has made him understand what men around him cannot; never can he
know of the spell, yet he doubts and hopes and knows I have told no
lie, and would have me prove my cause. O, but to win at arms by God’s
aid for him, and to enter his peace and to put on mail for him again …
but then he must take her back, and I must yield her … it would have
been much better had he killed me in my sleep. For till now I was
hunted and I could hate and forget; he had thrown Iseult to the
lepers, she was no more his, but mine; and now by his compassion he
has wakened my heart and regained the Queen. For Queen she was at his
side, but in this wood she lives a slave, and I waste her youth; and
for rooms all hung with silk she has this savage place, and a hut for
her splendid walls, and I am the cause that she treads this ugly road.
So now I cry to God the Lord, who is King of the world, and beg Him to
give me strength to yield back Iseult to King Mark; for she is indeed
his wife, wed according to the laws of Rome before all the Barony of
his land.”
And as he thought thus, he leant upon his bow, and all through the
night considered his sorrow.
Within the hollow of thorns that was their resting-place Iseult the
Fair awaited Tristan’s return. The golden ring that King Mark had
slipped there glistened on her finger in the moonlight, and she
thought:
“He that put on this ring is not the man who threw me to his lepers in
his wrath; he is rather that compassionate lord who, from the day I
touched his shore, received me and protected. And he loved Tristan
once, but I came, and see what I have done! He should have lived in
the King’s palace; he should have ridden through King’s and baron’s
fees, finding adventure; but through me he has forgotten his
knighthood, and is hunted and exiled from the court, leading a random
life. …”
Just then she heard the feet of Tristan coming over the dead leaves
and twigs. She came to meet him, as was her wont, to relieve him of
his arms, and she took from him his bow, “Failnaught,” and his arrows,
and she unbuckled his sword-straps. And, “Friend,” said he, “it is the
King’s sword. It should have slain, but it spared us.”
Iseult took the sword, and kissed the hilt of gold, and Tristan saw
her weeping.
“Friend,” said he, “if I could make my peace with the King; if he
would allow me to sustain in arms that neither by act nor word have I
loved you with a wrongful love, any knight from the Marshes of Ely
right away to Dureaume that would gainsay me, would find me armed in
the ring. Then if the King would keep you and drive me out I would
cross to the Lowlands or to Brittany with Gorvenal alone. But wherever
I went and always, Queen, I should be yours; nor would I have spoken
thus, Iseult, but for the wretchedness you bear so long for my sake in
this desert land.”
“Tristan,” she said, “there is the hermit Ogrin. Let us return to him,
and cry mercy to the King of Heaven.”
They wakened Gorvenal; Iseult mounted the steed, and Tristan led it by
the bridle, and all night long they went for the last time through the
woods of their love, and they did not speak a word. By morning they
came to the Hermitage, where Ogrin read at the threshold, and seeing
them, called them tenderly:
“Friends,” he cried, “see how Love drives you still to further
wretchedness. Will you not do penance at last for your madness?”
“Lord Ogrin,” said Tristan, “hear us. Help us to offer peace to the
King, and I will yield him the Queen, and will myself go far away into
Brittany or the Lowlands, and if some day the King suffer me, I will
return and serve as I should.”
And at the hermit’s feet Iseult said in her turn:
“Nor will I live longer so, for though I will not say one word of
penance for my love, which is there and remains forever, yet from now
on I will be separate from him.”
Then the hermit wept and praised God and cried: “High King, I praise
Thy Name, for that Thou hast let me live so long as to give aid to
these!”
And he gave them wise counsel, and took ink, and wrote a little writ
offering the King what Tristan said.
That night Tristan took the road. Once more he saw the marble well and
the tall pine-tree, and he came beneath the window where the King
slept, and called him gently, and Mark awoke and whispered:
“Who are you that call me in the night at such an hour?”
“Lord, I am Tristan: I bring you a writ, and lay it here.”
Then the King cried: “Nephew! nephew! for God’s sake wait awhile,” but
Tristan had fled and joined his squire, and mounted rapidly. Gorvenal
said to him:
“O, Tristan, you are mad to have come. Fly hard with me by the nearest
road.”
So they came back to the Hermitage, and there they found Ogrin at
prayer, but Iseult weeping silently.
THE FORD
Mark had awakened his chaplain and had given him the writ to read; the
chaplain broke the seal, saluted in Tristan’s name, and then, when he
had cunningly made out the written words, told him what Tristan
offered; and Mark heard without saying a word, but his heart was glad,
for he still loved the Queen.
He summoned by name the choicest of his baronage, and when they were
all assembled they were silent and the King spoke:
“My lords, here is a writ, just sent me. I am your King, and you my
lieges. Hear what is offered me, and then counsel me, for you owe me
counsel.”
The chaplain rose, unfolded the writ, and said, upstanding
“My lords, it is Tristan that first sends love and homage to the King
and all his Barony, and he adds, ‘O King, when I slew the dragon and
conquered the King of Ireland’s daughter it was to me they gave her. I
was to ward her at will and I yielded her to you. Yet hardly had you
wed her when felons made you accept their lies, and in your anger,
fair uncle, my lord, you would have had us burnt without trial. But
God took compassion on us; we prayed him and he saved the Queen, as
justice was: and me also—though I leapt from a high rock, I was saved
by the power of God. And since then what have I done blameworthy? The
Queen was thrown to the lepers; I came to her succour and bore her
away. Could I have done less for a woman, who all but died innocent
through me? I fled through the woods. Nor could I have come down into
the vale and yielded her, for there was a ban to take us dead or
alive. But now, as then, I am ready, my lord, to sustain in arms
against all comers that never had the Queen for me, nor I for her a
love dishonourable to you. Publish the lists, and if I cannot prove my