Apart the lovers could neither live nor die, for it was life and death
together; and Tristan fled his sorrow through seas and islands and
many lands.
He fled his sorrow still by seas and islands, till at last he came
back to his land of Lyonesse, and there Rohalt, the keeper of faith,
welcomed him with happy tears and called him son. But he could not
live in the peace of his own land, and he turned again and rode
through kingdoms and through baronies, seeking adventure. From the
Lyonesse to the Lowlands, from the Lowlands on to the Germanies;
through the Germanies and into Spain. And many lords he served, and
many deeds did, but for two years no news came to him out of Cornwall,
nor friend, nor messenger. Then he thought that Iseult had forgotten.
Now it happened one day that, riding with Gorvenal alone, he came into
the land of Brittany. They rode through a wasted plain of ruined walls
and empty hamlets and burnt fields everywhere, and the earth deserted
of men; and Tristan thought:
“I am weary, and my deeds profit me nothing; my lady is far off and I
shall never see her again. Or why for two years has she made no sign,
or why has she sent no messenger to find me as I wandered? But in
Tintagel Mark honours her and she gives him joy, and that little fairy
bell has done a thorough work; for little she remembers or cares for
the joys and the mourning of old, little for me, as I wander in this
desert place. I, too, will forget.”
On the third day, at the hour of noon, Tristan and Gorvenal came near
a hill where an old chantry stood and close by a hermitage also; and
Tristan asked what wasted land that was, and the hermit answered:
“Lord, it is Breton land which Duke Hod holds, and once it was rich in
pasture and ploughland, but Count Riol of Nantes has wasted it. For
you must know that this Count Riol was the Duke’s vassal. And the Duke
has a daughter, fair among all King’s daughters, and Count Riol would
have taken her to wife; but her father refused her to a vassal, and
Count Riol would have carried her away by force. Many men have died in
that quarrel.”
And Tristan asked:
“Can the Duke wage his war?”
And the hermit answered:
“Hardly, my lord; yet his last keep of Carhaix holds out still, for
the walls are strong, and strong is the heart of the Duke’s son
Kaherdin, a very good knight and bold; but the enemy surrounds them on
every side and starves them. Very hardly do they hold their castle.”
Then Tristan asked:
“How far is this keep of Carhaix?”
“Sir,” said the hermit, “it is but two miles further on this way.”
Then Tristan and Gorvenal lay down, for it was evening.
In the morning, when they had slept, and when the hermit had chanted,
and had shared his black bread with them, Tristan thanked him and rode
hard to Carhaix. And as he halted beneath the fast high walls, he saw
a little company of men behind the battlements, and he asked if the
Duke were there with his son Kaherdin. Now Hod was among them; and
when he cried “yes,” Tristan called up to him and said:
“I am that Tristan, King of Lyonesse, and Mark of Cornwall is my
uncle. I have heard that your vassals do you a wrong, and I have come
to offer you my arms.
“Alas, lord Tristan, go you your way alone and God reward you, for
here within we have no more food; no wheat, or meat, or any stores but
only lentils and a little oats remaining.”