A furious battle was raging before the gates of the castle, for
Rivalin, the lord of the place, was fighting against Morgan, his feudal
superior, whose oppression had grown too great to be borne. Within the
castle, Blancheflur, Rivalin’s wife, was praying fervently for her
husband’s safety, as she clasped in her weak arms her little son that
had been born while the din of battle filled the air.
All day long it lasted. In the evening, Rual, the marshal, hurried back
into the castle bleeding, and called to his wife to save what she
could, and make ready for instant flight, for King Rivalin had fallen,
and the enemy threatened to blockade the castle. Queen Blancheflur
heard what he said, and with a piercing cry fell back dead. Rual,
seeing that nothing could be done for her, hurried the other women in
their preparations, and, heedless of his own untended wounds, made
ready to fly with his master’s child to a place of safety.
But while they hastened to obey the marshal, it was already too
late—the castle was surrounded, and no way of escape remained. They
carried the dead queen to another room, and the marshal’s wife took the
baby for her own. The servants were all faithful, and when Morgan took
the castle soon afterwards, he never guessed that Rivalin had left a
living child. The victorious king, who honoured Rual for his fidelity
to his late master, made him governor of the kingdom he had just
subdued, and then went back to his own place.
Time passed on, and the foster-parents were delighted with the good
qualities their pupil developed. They had had him christened Tristram,
or Tristan (Sorrowful), because of the sad circumstances that had
attended his birth. Rual himself taught him all knightly exercises, and
got him tutors to instruct him in music, languages, and many other
accomplishments.
One day some foreign merchants landed on the coast, and offered their
wares for sale. Young Tristram often went down to see them, and
questioned them about their country, and about the many strange lands
they visited. The boy’s unusual beauty and the great knowledge he
possessed aroused their cupidity. They determined to steal him, and
sell him in some foreign country where he would bring a good price. So
once, when he was on board their ship, they quietly raised the anchor,
and set sail. Rual pursued them, but they escaped, owing to the greater
swiftness of their vessel. Another danger, however, threatened to
overwhelm them. A terrific storm came on, worse than any they had ever
encountered before. They thought it a sign of God’s wrath, and were
filled with fear and awe. In the perturbation of their souls they swore
to set the boy free, and they kept their word. They put him ashore on
an unknown coast, feeling assured that with his uncommon gifts he would
soon make a livelihood. They were not mistaken. A troup of pilgrims
happening to pass that way, Tristram joined them, and accompanied them
to the court of King Mark of Cornwall. The king took the boy into his
service as page, and grew very fond of him.
Meantime Rual had sought his foster-son everywhere, and was
broken-hearted at not being able to find him, or hear any news of him.
He wandered from one country to another, begging his way. At last,
footsore and weary, he arrived at King Mark’s court. Tristram greeted
him with joy, and took him to the king.
When Mark heard who the supposed beggar was, he exclaimed angrily:
“What! Are you the former marshal of the traitor Rivalin, who stole
away my sister Blancheflur?”
“Sire,” replied Rual, “love made him do so. The Lady Blancheflur had
been secretly married to my master before she went away from here. She
and her husband are both dead, and this youth,” laying his hand on
Tristram’s shoulder, “whom I have brought up from his infancy, and whom
I have sought for years, is their only child.”
The king was astonished to hear this tale, and was pleased to find that
his favourite page was in reality his nephew. Rual remained in Cornwall
with his foster-son, for, his wife being dead, he did not care to
return home, and again endure Morgan’s despotic sway.
Tristram grew up to be a tall and handsome man, a brave warrior, and a
noble knight, as much beloved in peace as in war. But although he lived
a full and joyous life, he could not forget his native land, and often
mourned over the thought that his fellow-countrymen and rightful
subjects groaned under the tyranny of a foreign oppressor. He at last
explained his feelings on the subject to his uncle, who gave him men
and ships, telling him to go and set his people free, but making him
promise to return to Cornwall afterwards, as he had appointed him to
succeed him on the throne.
The expedition was successful. Morgan was defeated and slain, and
Tristram was crowned King of Parmenia. He remained for a year longer in
his native land, settling all differences, and arranging matters for
the good of his subjects. Having done this, he made Rual governor of
the realm, and returned to Cornwall as he had promised.