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:
“My lords, let us take counsel of Frocin the Dwarf; for he knows the
seven arts, and magic and every kind of charm. He will teach us if he
will the wiles of Iseult the Fair.”
The little evil man drew signs for them and characters of sorcery; he
cast the fortunes of the hour and then at last he said:
“Sirs, high good lords, this night shall you seize them both.”
Then they led the little wizard to the King, and he said:
“Sire, bid your huntsmen leash the hounds and saddle the horses,
proclaim a seven days’ hunt in the forest and seven nights abroad
therein, and hang me high if you do not hear this night what converse
Tristan holds.”
So did the King unwillingly; and at fall of night he left the hunt
taking the dwarf in pillion, and entered the orchard, and the dwarf
took him to the tall pine-tree, saying:
“Fair King, climb into these branches and take with you your arrows
and your bow, for you may need them; and bide you still.”
That night the moon shone clear. Hid in the branches the King saw his
nephew leap the pallisades and throw his bark and twigs into the
stream. But Tristan had bent over the round well to throw them and so
doing had seen the image of the King. He could not stop the branches
as they floated away, and there, yonder, in the women’s rooms, Iseult
was watching and would come.
She came, and Tristan watched her motionless. Above him in the tree he
heard the click of the arrow when it fits the string.
She came, but with more prudence than her wont, thinking, “What has
passed, that Tristan does not come to meet me? He has seen some foe.”
Suddenly, by the clear moonshine, she also saw the King’s shadow in
the fount. She showed the wit of women well, she did not lift her
eyes.
“Lord God,” she said, low down, grant I may be the first to speak.”
“Tristan,” she said, “what have you dared to do, calling me hither at
such an hour? Often have you called me —to beseech, you said. And
Queen though I am, I know you won me that title—and I have come. What
would you?”
“Queen, I would have you pray the King for me.”
She was in tears and trembling, but Tristan praised God the Lord who
had shown his friend her peril.
“Queen,” he went on, “often and in vain have I summoned you; never
would you come. Take pity; the King hates me and I know not why.
Perhaps you know the cause and can charm his anger. For whom can he
trust if not you, chaste Queen and courteous, Iseult?”
“Truly, Lord Tristan, you do not know he doubts us both. And I, to add
to my shame, must acquaint you of it. Ah! but God knows if I lie,
never went cut my love to any man but he that first received me. And
would you have me, at such a time, implore your pardon of the King?
Why, did he know of my passage here to-night he would cast my ashes to
the wind. My body trembles and I am afraid. I go, for I have waited
too long.”
In the branches the King smiled and had pity.
And as Iseult fled: “Queen,” said Tristan, “in the Lord’s name help
me, for charity.”
“Friend,” she replied, “God aid you! The King wrongs you but the Lord
God will be by you in whatever land you go.”
So she went back to the women’s rooms and told it to Brangien, who
cried: “Iseult, God has worked a miracle for you, for He is
compassionate and will not hurt the innocent in heart.”
And when he had left the orchard, the King said smiling:
“Fair nephew, that ride you planned is over now.”
But in an open glade apart, Frocin, the Dwarf, read in the clear stars
that the King now meant his death; he blackened with shame and fear
and fled into Wales.