between King Mark and his nephew, and their feelings grew very hot and
angry towards one another. It was about a beautiful lady that they
quarrelled, a lady whom King Mark loved more than passing well.
He thought that Sir Tristram loved her too, and she him, and he was so
jealous of Sir Tristram that one day he and his knights, disguised, rode
after him to see if he had gone to meet her. And as Tristram came riding
back King Mark bore down on him, and they fought until the king was so
wounded that he lay on the ground as though dead, and Sir Tristram rode on
his way. He never knew that it was his uncle with whom he had fought, but
from that day to the day of his death, though they were fair-spoken to
each other, the king never forgave his nephew or loved him again.
Indeed, he hated him so much that he ever plotted to injure him, and at
last one day he thought of a plan by which he could ruin Tristram's
happiness, and probably get him killed as well.
Now it happened that when Sir Tristram had first returned from Ireland he
had told his uncle of La Belle Iseult, of her beauty, and grace, and
skill; for his heart was ever filled with love and admiration for her,
and to him she was the very fairest woman in the world. So to wound Sir
Tristram, and to take a sore and cruel revenge upon him, King Mark
determined to ask her in marriage for himself, and to make his cruelty the
greater, he determined that Sir Tristram should be the knight who should
go to Ireland as his ambassador to ask her hand of King Anguish, her
father.
Sending for Sir Tristram he laid his commands upon him, rejoicing in the
heavy task he was laying upon him, watching him closely to note how he
would bear it. But Sir Tristram, though sad at heart and deeply troubled,
bore himself bravely, and accepted the task; for to have refused it would
have been a cowardice and a shame, and not the conduct of a true knight.
Without delay he set about preparing for his sad journey. He had made
ready a large vessel, fitted in the most sumptuous manner possible,
and taking with him some chosen knights dressed in the most goodly style,
he set sail from Tintagel for Ireland. Before they had got far, though,
a fierce storm burst over them, and beat their vessel about until she was
driven back to England, to the coast of Camelot, where King Arthur dwelt,
and right glad they were to take to the land.
There, when they were landed, Sir Tristram set up his tent, and hanging
his shield without it, lay down to rest. Hardly, though, was he lain
down, before two knights of the Round Table, Sir Ector de Maris and Sir
Morganor, came and rapped on the shield, bidding him come forth and joust.
"Wait awhile," called back Sir Tristram, "and I will bring you my answer."
Then he hastily dressed himself, and came out to the two impatient
knights, and without much ado he first smote down Sir Ector and then Sir
Morganor, with the same spear.
"Whence come you, and whose knight are you?" they asked as they lay on the
ground, unable to rise because of their bruises.
"My lords," answered Sir Tristram, "I am from Cornwall."
"Alas, alas, I am sore ashamed that any Cornish knight should have
overcome me," cried Sir Ector. And so ashamed was he that he put off his
armour and went away on foot, for he would not ride.
Now it happened about this time that King Anguish of Ireland was sent for
to appear at King Arthur's court at Camelot, to answer a charge of treason
brought against him by Sir Blamor de Ganis, and Sir Bleoberis, his
brother; which was that he had slain at his court a cousin of theirs and
of Sir Launcelot.
The king, who had not known for why he was sent, was sore abashed when he
heard the charge, for he knew there were only two ways to settle the
matter, either he must fight the accuser himself, or he must get a knight
to do so for him, and very heavy-hearted he was, for Sir Blamor was a
powerful knight, and one of the trustiest of the Table Round, and King
Anguish knew that now Sir Marhaus was dead he had no knight in Ireland to
match him.
Three days he had in which to decide upon his answer, and great was his
perplexity as to what it should be.
Meanwhile, Gouvernail went unto his master and told him that King Anguish
was arraigned for murder, and was in great distress. Whereupon Sir
Tristram replied, "This is the best news I have heard these seven years,
that the King of Ireland hath need of my help. I dare be sworn there is
no knight in England, save of Arthur's court, that dare do battle with Sir
Blamor de Ganis. Bring me to the king then, Gouvernail, for to win his
love I will take this battle on myself."
So Gouvernail went to King Anguish, and told him that a knight wished to
do him service. "What knight?" said he.
"Sir Tristram of Lyonesse," answered Gouvernail, "who, for your goodness
to him in your own land, would fain assist you in this."
Then was the king right overjoyed, and went unto Sir Tristram's pavilion,
and when Sir Tristram saw him he would have knelt and held his stirrup for
him to dismount, but the king leapt lightly to the ground, and they
embraced each other with great gladness, and the king told his tale.
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "for your good grace to me, and for the sake of
your daughter, Belle Iseult, I will fight this battle, but you must grant
me two requests. The first is, you must give me your own word that you
were not consenting unto this knight's death; the second, that if I win
this battle you shall give me as reward whatsoever reasonable thing I
ask." Whereupon the king swore to both of them, and then went to tell his
accusers that he had a knight ready to fight Sir Blamor. Then King Arthur
commanded Sir Tristram and Sir Blamor to appear before the judges, and
when they came many kings and knights who were present recognized Sir
Tristram as the young unknown knight who had fought and conquered Sir
Marhaus of Ireland, and the excitement grew intense, for two lustier
knights than Sir Tristram and Sir Blamor could not have been found.
So the time was fixed, and the combatants retired to their tents to
prepare for battle.
"Dear brother," said Bleoberis to Blamor, "remember of what kin you are,
and how Sir Launcelot is our cousin, and suffer death rather than shame,
for none of our blood was yet shamed in battle."
"Fear not," answered Sir Blamor stoutly, "that I will ever disgrace our
kin. Yonder knight is a goodly man, but I swear I will never yield,
nor say the loth word. He may smite me down by his chivalry, but he shall
slay me before I say the loth word."
So the two champions rode to meet each other from opposite sides of the
lists, and they feutred their spears and charged each other with so great
force that it sounded as though the heavens were sending forth loud
thunders, and then Sir Tristram by his great strength bore Sir Blamor to
the ground, and his horse under him.
He was quickly clear of his horse, though, and on his feet again.
"Alight, Sir Tristram," he cried, pulling out his sword, "my horse has
failed me, but the earth shall not."
So together they rushed, and lashed at each other in fury, slashing and
tearing, foining, and making such fearful strokes that the kings and
knights held their breath in horror and amazement that two men could use
each other so, and neither give in. But so fierce were they that their
stabs and cuts might have been falling on men of wood, so little heed did
they pay. So fast and furiously they fought, that the wonder was they had
breath to keep on; but Sir Blamor was the more furious, and therefore the
less wary, so that by and by Sir Tristram saw an opportunity and smote him
such a crushing blow on the head that he fell over on his side, and Sir
Tristram stood over him.
Then was Sir Blamor's shame piteous. "Kill me, Sir Tristram," he cried,
"as you are a noble knight, for I would not live. Not to be lord of the
whole universe would I endure with shame; and I will never say the loth
word, so the victory is not yours unless you slay me."
Sir Tristram was sore perplexed what to do. He could not bring himself to
kill this noble knight; but for his party's sake he must, unless Sir
Blamor would say the loth word. So he went to the assembled kings, and
kneeling before them he besought them that they would take the matter into
their hands. "For," said he, "it is a cruel pity that such a noble knight
should be slain, and I pray God he may not be slain or shamed by me. I
beseech the king, whose champion I am, that he will have mercy upon this
good knight."
Sir Bleoberis, though, as hotly demanded that his brother should be slain
outright, until the judges gave him stern reproof.
"It shall not be," they said, "both King Anguish and his champion knight
have more mercy than thou," and they went to King Anguish, and he, good
man, gave up his claim, and resigned the loth word, as each champion was
proved of good faith. And so it was settled, and so rejoiced were Sir
Bleoberis and his brother, and right grateful for their goodness, that
they swore eternal friendship to King Anguish and Sir Tristram, and each
kissed the other, and swore a vow that neither would come against the
other in combat.
Then King Anguish and Sir Tristram set sail for Ireland, with great
splendour and gladness, and right welcome was Sir Tristram when the people
heard what he had done for their king and for them. Great were the
rejoicings, and great the joy, but the joy of Iseult was greater than all
the rest together, for she still loved Sir Tristram with all her heart and
soul. Then as the days came and went, much did King Anguish marvel that
Sir Tristram had not made his second request, but Sir Tristram was fain to
postpone doing so, for he was heavy-hearted at his task. At last King
Anguish asked him, saying, "Sir Knight, you have not yet asked of me your
reward."
"Alas," said Sir Tristram sadly, "the time is come. I would ask you for
your daughter Iseult to take back with me to Cornwall,--not for myself,
but to wed the king, my uncle Mark; for full well he knows how she
surpasseth all in beauty, and wisdom, and charm, for I myself have told
him of her, until he desireth her greatly for his queen and lady."
"Ah me!" cried King Anguish in amazement, and, "Ah me!" he sighed,
"I would you had asked her for yourself, Sir Tristram. Right glad would I
have been to have called you 'son!'"
"That can never be now," said Sir Tristram gently; "I should be false to
my trust, and for ever shamed. My uncle commanded me to come, and I have
promised."
So a great feasting and merry-making began, and all things were made
ready for La Belle Iseult to sail to another land to be made a queen.
Now whether the queen, Iseult's mother, saw that Sir Tristram and her
daughter loved each other, or whether she feared that her daughter might
not love King Mark, no one will ever know, but she set to work to concoct
a love-drink, brewing it from delicate herbs and simples, which when ready
she enclosed in a golden flask. This she handed to Dame Bragwaine,
La Belle Iseult's waiting-woman, bidding her guard it with all care,
and not let it out of her sight until La Belle Iseult and King Mark were
wedded, when she was to give it to them that they might each drink of it,
so that a great and holy love should rise and grow between them, never to
die until their lives ended.
So, on a certain day a dainty vessel, all painted white and silver, and
furnished with the utmost richness and beauty, set sail from Ireland.
At the prow glittered a golden swallow, all set with gems, and on board
were Tristram and Iseult.
Silently, swiftly they glided through the waters, the sun shone softly,
the breeze lightly caressed the dainty, bird-like vessel and the white
fluttering canvas, as though afraid to breathe on anything so lovely as
the lady lying amidst her silken cushions and cloth of gold. Then it
stole modestly away, only to return again, full fain to touch her golden
hair, or her delicate cheek. The scent of the land-flowers filled the
air, for the vessel was gaily bedecked with all the fairest and most
delicate.
In this little nest of luxury sat Tristram and Iseult, he so stalwart,
noble, bronzed, she so surpassingly beautiful, gentle and lovable.
All through the long, warm days they sat listening each to the other's
talk, and when the sun went down and left them to the fair white light of
the moon, they still sat and talked, or looked at each other, for the mere
sight of each filled the other's heart with joy.
Oh the pity of it all! the pity of it! Such a nobly-matched pair was
never seen before nor since.
Iseult made Sir Tristram tell her of the battles he had fought, of the
countries he had seen, and of the people of this new land towards which
she was hastening; for all was strange to her, and a great heaviness
filled her heart at the thought of King Mark and his court.
That her mind might not dwell on it, she asked him of Queen Guinevere,
the fame of whose beauty had spread to all lands.
"Alas, alas for her beauty!" cried Sir Tristram. "It has been the undoing
of many good men and true, who have died for love of her. Her beauty has
been a sore curse to her, poor lady."
"Then," answered Iseult, looking up at him with serious, innocent eyes,
"right thankful I am that my face will never bring ill-fortune to any
man!" And Sir Tristram had to turn from her to hide his pain, for his
love for her was greater than ever.
On and on they sailed, full fain that their voyage might last as long as
might be, for perfect was their happiness to be together thus, and
everything was fair and peaceful. But at last one day the sun was hid by
the clouds which gathered in the sky above them, the wind howled
threateningly around the vessel, increasing in violence as the hours
dragged by, until the danger of the dainty craft was great.
Ill indeed would it have been with them but for the might of Sir
Tristram's arm, for the vessel was not one built to battle with tempests
and mighty seas. With all his strength and skill he guided her through
the troubled waters, and Iseult sat and watched him at his task,
marvelling at his power. "Ah," she thought, "had I been a man I would
have been just like to him." And, without fear of danger, so perfectly
did she trust in him, she lay and gazed at him with admiring, wistful
eyes. From time to time he came to her to encourage and reassure her,
but although she felt no fear, she did not tell him so, so dearly did she
love to hear his voice, and feel his care for her.
At last when the danger was over he came to her again, dropping beside her
almost exhausted. "Iseult, my throat is parched and burning, my tongue
cleaves to my mouth. Give me some drink," he pleaded.
Pleased to do his bidding, glad to be able to help him, Iseult rose and
ran below. But in the confusion caused by the storm nowhere could she
find aught wherewith to quench his thirst. Dame Bragwaine, half dead with
terror of the storm, fatigue, and sickness, lay in a sort of stupor on her
couch, and Iseult, ever kind and thoughtful for others, would not disturb
her to help her in her search. Here and there she sought, and high and
low, but nowhere could she find wine or aught else to drink.
Right vexed and disappointed, she was returning empty-handed to the deck
where Sir Tristram impatiently awaited her, when, close by the couch of
Dame Bragwaine, she spied a beautiful golden flask full of a rich
sparkling liquid. With a cry of relief she snatched it up, and running up
on deck, "Drink, drink," she cried, unloosing the fastening, "the perfume
is intoxicating. Such wine I never before beheld."
"Nay, sweet Lady Iseult," cried Sir Tristram, pressing it back into her
hands; "deign first to put your lips to it; do me that honour, or I will
never taste it." So to her sweet parted lips she raised the flask, and
drank, and then, smiling and glad, she handed it to him.
Alas, alas, unhappy pair, who might have been so happy! No sooner had
they tasted of that fatal drink than through their hearts and brains
poured a love so great, so deep, so surpassing, that never a greater could
exist in this world. And in their hearts it dwelt for evermore, never
leaving them through weal or woe.
At last, alas, after many adventures and many dangers, the happy voyage
ended, the coast of Cornwall was reached, and Sir Tristram had to lead La
Belle Iseult to the king. And King Mark when he saw her was so amazed at
her beauty that he loved her there and then, and with great pomp and
rejoicing the marriage took place at once.
But La Belle Iseult loved none but Sir Tristram, and he her.
For a while all went well, but only for a little while, for King Mark,
told by his knights of the love Queen Iseult and Sir Tristram bore each
other, grew sore jealous of Sir Tristram, and hating him more and more,
longed for a chance to do him harm.
But Tristram gave him no chance, for he was the noblest and trustiest
knight of all the court, and though he fought and jousted continually no
harm came to him until one unhappy day, when he was lying sleeping in a
wood, there came along, a man whose brother Sir Tristram had killed; when
the man saw Sir Tristram lying there asleep he shot an arrow at him, and
the arrow went through Tristram's shoulder.
Sir Tristram was on his feet in a moment, and killed the man; but his own
hurt was a grievous one, for the arrow had been a poisoned one, so, what
with his poisoned wound and what with his sorrow that Iseult was so kept a
prisoner by King Mark, that he could neither see her nor hear from her,
he was very ill for a long time, and like to die. And no one had the
skill to cure him but La Belle Iseult, and she might not do so.
Hearing, though, by some means, of his sad condition she sent to him a
message by Dame Bragwaine's cousin, bidding him to go to Brittany, for
King Howell's daughter, Iseult la Blanche Mains,--or Iseult of the White
Hands,--could cure him, and no one else. So he took a ship and went, and
this other Iseult healed his wounds, and restored him to perfect health.
But she grew to love him, too, for he was a man to whom all women's hearts
softened.
She was but a child, this White-handed Iseult. She had barely reached her
sixteenth year. And though she thought of her unasked love with shame,
and though she ever strove to hide it, it shone in her soft brown eyes,
and pale face, and filled Sir Tristram's heart with pain for her. So he
left the court and sailed the seas again, hoping that she would forget
him, and learn to love someone else.
Now, though Sir Tristram could not tear the love of La Belle Iseult from
his heart, he did not spend his life in moans and sad regrets. He gave
his life to helping the oppressed, and destroying the oppressors; to
helping to right wrongs, and in all ways living a good and noble life
worthy of the lady who loved him.
His liking for the sea was great, too, so that he spent many days and
nights on board his own good ship, and often he thought of the time when
La Belle Iseult crossed the sea with him, of the sunny days and starry
nights, the peace, the joy, and the happiness of that sweet time.
And his heart ached cruelly, and he was full of sadness, for he was a very
lonely man now, with no hope of happiness before him.
Then one day in his loneliness came the thought of that other lonely
heart,--kind little Iseult of the White Hands, and of her love for him.
"She suffers as I do," he said. "Why should two women suffer so for my
sake? I cannot love her as she deserves, but I will try to make her
happy." So, turning the vessel's head, he made once more for Brittany,
and there he found that an earl called Grip was making great war upon King
Howell, and was getting the mastery. So Sir Tristram joyfully went to the
king's aid, and after mowing down Grip's knights right and left, he killed
the earl himself, and so won the battle.
Right royally was Sir Tristram received after that, and King Howell in his
joy would have given him his whole kingdom had he so desired. But Sir
Tristram would accept no reward. What he had done, was done for Iseult's
sake, he said. And a love grew up in Tristram's heart for the gentle
maiden, for who could help loving one kind and beautiful!
So they were married with great rejoicings, and all the kingdom was glad,
and so was Sir Tristram, for now, he thought, he could quench that fatal
love for Iseult of Cornwall, and could spend the rest of his days in this
sunny land, happy with his sweet child-wife.
Alas! alas! Once more the deadly love-drink did its work! No sooner had
he placed the ring on his bride's finger, than the love for the other
Iseult returned stronger than ever.
"I have been false to my lady!" he cried to himself remorsefully,
"for I swore ever to be her true knight, loyal to her alone."
And such sorrow and repentance filled his heart that his love for his
bride was killed. He concealed his pain so well, though, that little
Iseult was happy, never doubting that her husband loved her,--but all the
days and nights that passed were full for Tristram of yearning for his
love, and a great longing to be again in Cornwall.
At last one day there arrived at the castle a knight from King Arthur's
court at Camelot; and of him Sir Tristram asked, "Say they aught of me at
court?"
"Truly," answered the knight, "they speak of you with shame, for Sir
Launcelot says you are a false knight to your lady, and his love for you
is dead, so that he longs to meet with you that he may joust with you."
Sore troubled indeed was Sir Tristram at this, for he loved Sir Launcelot,
and coveted his respect, and to be deemed traitor to the lady for whom he
would have laid down his life, hurt him most of all.
From that time his longing to return to Tintagel and his love for La Belle
Iseult grew daily more and more unconquerable, until at last he could no
longer bear it, and one day set sail from Brittany, leaving his poor
little lonely wife behind to mourn his absence, and yearn for his return;
for as yet she had not found out that there was no love at all in his
heart for her.
But on a day soon after he had left her there was brought to her the story
of his love for that other Iseult, and of hers for him. Then was the
young wife filled with shame that ever she had showed her love for him,
and jealousy raged in her, turning her love to bitter hate, and her heart
hardened so that night and day she longed to be revenged.
Thus a whole year passed away, and Tristram and Queen Iseult loved each
other as dearly as ever; but King Mark in his jealous anger kept them so
watched that they could never see or speak one to the other, and they had
no peace or joy in life, until at last they could bear the pain no longer,
and one day they managed to escape together and to reach the Castle of
Joyous Gard, where the king had no power to reach them, even had he known
where they were hid. Of their love and happiness there no tongue can
tell, and of the peace and joy of their life, for they loved each other
above all else, and when they were together nothing had power to pain
them.
But at last, on a sad, sad day, the trusty Gouvernail came to Sir Tristram
with word that a summons had been sent him from King Arthur, to go to the
aid of Sir Triamour of Wales, for he was sore beset by a monster named
Urgan, and needed help.
Sir Tristram could in no wise, of course, neglect this summons, for that
would have been the direst disgrace to him, and never more in all his life
would he have been able to show himself anywhere but as a treacherous and
loathly knight, and, though it broke his heart to send her from him, La
Belle Iseult loved him too well to have him so disgrace himself.
So they parted; and a sadder parting never had been in this world, for
they knew with a sure and certain knowledge that never again would they be
allowed to meet; and their hearts were full of a love and sorrow almost
too great to be borne. With tears and kisses they said farewell, vowing
each to be true to the other till death, and after.
So Sir Tristram rode away into Wales, and Queen Iseult being discovered by
King Mark, was made to return to him, only to be made a prisoner in the
great grim castle at Tintagel, where all day long she sat sad and lonely,
looking out over the sea, and musing sadly on all the bitterness life had
held for her and for her lover. And her husband, jealous, wrathful, never
slackened his watch over her, night or day.
A harder lot was Iseult's than her lover's, for he had change and action
to distract his thoughts, and all the excitement of battle; but she had
nothing to do but sit and think on all that might have been, until her
heart was near to breaking.
Meanwhile, Sir Tristram arrived in Wales and met the monster Urgan, a
huge, hideous creature with no notion of fighting, or chivalry, for the
moment he beheld Sir Tristram, he rushed upon him, and would have dashed
him to the ground, but that Sir Tristram by good hap saw what was coming,
and swerved aside so that the blow fell harmless. And while the giant
roared with rage and mortification, and tried to recover his balance,
Sir Tristram swiftly drew his sword, and swinging it lightly round his
head, cut the monster's right hand clean off at the wrist with one sharp
stroke.