And Ragnell was overjoyed to hear him say this, for another kind of man, less noble than Sir Gawaine, would instead have brooded always, even when beauty was present, on the ugliness to come (and life in general is always half of each).
And she said, “Dearest Gawaine, I love thee with all mine heart. Nevertheless I am obliged to ask thee to make a choice. Forgetting the ugliness, then when wouldst thou see the beauty, by day or by night?”
“Love of my life,” said Gawaine, embracing her, “this can never be mine own decision, for thou art not an object which I possess like unto a suit of armor. Thou art one of God’s creatures, and in all fundamental matters thou must answer only to Him. This choice therefore must be thine alone.”
And Ragnell did cry joyfully, “Gawaine, mine own dear love! Hereby thou hast broken the curse altogether!”
And Sir Gawaine’s heart did rise though as yet he did not understand this matter, and seeing his puzzlement Ragnell was in haste to explain.
“I shall never again be ugly at any time,” said she, “but I shall be beautiful for thee always. For it was the condition of the wicked enchantment that had been put upon me that, first, I should be hideous at all times unless a knight of King Arthur would wed me regardless, and that thou didst. But then I should be ugly half the day, the which half would be chosen by mine husband as my lord and master. But thou, dearest Gawaine, hath refused to use that power over me. And in allowing me mine own choice, thou hast liberated me in more ways than one. No free will can be held in the captivity of any enchantment, and no woman can be ugly who retaineth the mastery of herself.”
And Sir Gawaine was overjoyed in his amazement, for he did not see that as a reformed lecher he could have done otherwise than he had!
And King Arthur had grown impatient to begin the wedding feast whilst Gawaine and his bride had been talking privately, and now he came and he took them each on a royal arm and so he walked with them to a dining hall, which was in another place than the Round Table (to which women were not admitted).
And the king gave them many costly gifts, and Sir Kay had had the bakers prepare a great cake which was twenty feet across and surmounted by the figures of a knight and a lady cunningly fashioned from spun sugar and as large as life. And great cheer was made that day by all the company at Camelot, and even Guinevere almost forgot her anguish.
And when they prepared for bed that night Sir Gawaine said to the fair Ragnell, who had in his eyes ever increased in beauty, “And who was the evil queen who put the terrible spell upon thee? For her name should be known to all, so that all may be on guard against her.”
“Morgan la Fey,” said his lovely bride, who did not know of his relationship to her.
“Ah,” said Sir Gawaine, “then we must never make it public, for alas! she is the sister of King Arthur.”
BOOK XV
How Sir Tristram was married to Isold of the White Hands; and of what happened then.
NOW SIR LAUNCELOT had wandered far from Camelot, and he had fought many knights, defeating them every one, and if they were decent men who challenged him merely to test their prowess he unhorsed them only and then he shook their hands. But if they were wicked knights who oppressed the weak and mishandled fair ladies, he killed them without regret unless they gave him their pledge to reform. And these latter he sent to King Arthur, for those who had once served evil were all the more ardent in the cause of virtue.
And Sir Launcelot asked everywhere he went for the Holy Grail, but none had heard of it in no place, and at the monasteries he was told by the good brothers that no such thing existed, and instead they showed him the relics they possessed, the shinbone of one saint or the petrified toe of another.
And if he stayed the night in a monkish cell Launcelot was wont to whip himself with a scourge till dawn, for only then did he forget for a while his great sin with Guinevere, which tormented him worse the longer he was away from Camelot, for the reason that he desired her more. And what was so terrible about the lust of Sir Launcelot was that it was for one woman alone in all the world, and no maid however beautiful could stir him, as we have seen in the case of the unhappy Elaine of Astolat.
Now one morning Sir Launcelot rode over an hill just as another knight came over the next hill, and on seeing him this other knight fewtered his lance, and therefore in self-defense Launcelot did the same, assuming that only a wicked man would attack him on sight, and each galloped down his own slope, and when they met in the valley below it was with a great shock. And though the other knight was thrown from his saddle by Sir Launcelot’s attack, so was the latter unhorsed as well. And never had Sir Launcelot met a knight with this prowess, the which seemed quite as great as his own, and when they fought with their swords this other knight gave Launcelot blow for blow.
But Sir Launcelot was happy to have found an opponent so worthy at arms, and like his own this knight’s shield was blank, so that he could not identify him. And they proceeded to fight all the day, and neither asked for a respite, and even the great Launcelot would have been exhausted but for the example of the other. (And this was the reason why one fine knight loved to fight another as good as himself, for it evoked his own best.)
And after many hours neither of them was hurt, so effective was each in countering the other’s blows. But finally Sir Launcelot smote the other knight so violently upon the helmet as to rip it away from its lacings and turn it so that he could not see through the slits of the visor.
Now Sir Launcelot did call a halt and he lowered his sword, so that the other could adjust his helm.
And his opponent opened his visor then, saying, “You are a knight of much courtesy, sir, and can not therefore be the caitiff I took you for.”
And it was none other than Sir Tristram!
“My dear friend,” said Sir Launcelot removing his own helmet, and the two knights made much joy on seeing each other.
“Well,” said Sir Tristram smiling, “how fortunate that mine helmet came undone, for I could not have endured many more blows from the incomparable Launcelot.”
“On the contrary,” said Sir Launcelot, “I should soon have had to surrender to thee had not this happy accident occurred. I am amazed that I was able to endure so long against the great Tristram!”
And so they did exchange the typical expressions of modesty.
“Alas that we did fight at all in this fashion,” said Tristram. “But I mistook thee for a very evil lord who hath ravaged the countryside hereabout.”
And Sir Launcelot said, “Like me thou dost carry a shield with no device.”
And Sir Tristram looked at the ground and he said sadly, “But for another reason.” And then he looked into Launcelot’s eyes, and he said, “Let us sit down here under this tree, my friend, and rest from our ordeal.”
And they removed their heavy plate-armor and sat down in their chain mail, and their horses cropped the new grass in the meadow, and there were primroses near by, for it was spring again. And Sir Launcelot had been away from Camelot for half a year.
“Tell me, Tristram, hast news of the court?” he asked.
“Nay,” said Sir Tristram. “I have not been there in ever so long. I like not the life of courts. In saying the which I mean no disrespect to that of Camelot, certes, but any court doth remind me only of that in which I knew mine only happiness. And that happiness was adulterous and wrong, Launcelot! And I should rather be happy that it hath come to an end, but I have a wicked heart, my friend, and it doth continue to bleed—to the degree that I wish thou hadst killed me awhile ago.” And putting his face into his hands he wept copiously.
And Sir Launcelot made grief with his friend, for he did pity him and he had his own sorrow as well.
Then he said to Sir Tristram, “Well, happiness must wait for Heaven.”
“But if I can not be with Isold on earth,” said Sir Tristram, “I could scarcely meet her in Heaven.”
“My friend,” said Sir Launcelot, “thou shalt not desire there to be with
her in the same fashion as here, and ye both will know nothing but the love of God.”
“Then I am afraid I would rather go to Hell, Launcelot,” Sir Tristram cried, “for there will never come a time when I do not love Isold!”
And Sir Launcelot shuddered at this impiety, but never did he chide Sir Tristram for it, for he understood that his friend could not feel otherwise, and Sir Tristram was a knight of the greatest worship and he would abstain from evil if he were able, and indeed he had acted with virtue in leaving Cornwall. What more could he have done? Yet he was miserable.
But Launcelot determined to think no more on this hopeless matter, for he was a Christian, and therefore he rose and he said to Sir Tristram, “Come, my friend, and join me in the quest for the Sangreal.”
“And what is that?” asked Sir Tristram. “Is it some errand for the queen?”
Now Launcelot did stare at him briefly, but in the face of honest Tristram he could detect no malice. “Nay, my friend,” Launcelot said then, “King Arthur hath relieved me as her constant guard. ’Tis an holy thing which I pursue.”
And Tristram said, “In my state of soul I should repel it, methinks. Nay, regretfully and gratefully I must decline this honor, than which there can be no greater than to accompany the devout Launcelot on a religious quest. Thou art without stain, my noble friend, whereas I am eternally besmirched. I go now to a secular task, the which I have long neglected: the liberation of my native land, Lyonesse, from the tyrants who have ruled it since my father’s death.”
And Sir Launcelot did writhe in guilt when he heard Tristram’s belief in his purity, and he embraced him. And he said, “My friend, I have a feeling that we have met for the last time on earth. Thou art the bravest man I have ever known, and the finest, as I am the greatest coward and the worst sinner.” And then before Tristram could reply to this curious speech Launcelot taking up his armor piled it before him on his saddle and he rode swiftly away.
And thereupon began the period in which Sir Launcelot behaved like a madman according to the old scribes, and he lived as an animal in the forests, half-naked and hairy, and some hunting parties seeing him discharged arrows at him thinking him a beast of prey. And he ate roots and worms, and he slept in caves.
And in this condition we leave him for a while, for his ways were indescribably strange.
Now Sir Tristram did as he said he would, and he crossed the sea to the kingdom of Lyonesse. But what he had not known was that long ago a faithful lord of his father’s, hight Rohalt, had overthrown the tyrants and had since served as regent, awaiting Sir Tristram’s return. And the faithful Rohalt made great joy when Sir Tristram came to Lyonesse, for he had never seen him since he was a boy.
But though Tristram was pleased to know that the wicked tyrants no longer ruled his country he was yet disappointed that he could not swing his sword in some good cause and thereby be distracted from his grief. For Lyonesse was now a land where all lived in peace and prosperity, and the people were all pretty and they sang and played on dulcimers and flutes all the day. And their bliss served only to remind Sir Tristram of his own sadness.
Therefore he went away from Lyonesse, having lost even his old gifts in music, and he left the country in the hands of the loyal Rohalt, who was also known as the Keeper of the Faith. And then Sir Tristram traveled all over the earth, and he did great feats of arms wherever he went, which are yet well remembered, and everywhere he went he was believed the greatest knight of all, but when he heard himself called that, he protested, and he said, “Then know ye not of Launcelot?”
Finally he came to the Lesser Britain, the which was also known as Brittany, which was separated from King Arthur’s land by the sea, but where the people had the same Celtic blood (the richest and most brave) and spake the same tongue (the most melodious), and there he met a noble prince named Kaherdin, who was the rightful ruler of that country. But the power had been seized by a felonious usurper named Riol, and with inferior forces Kaherdin was fighting him currently.
Now Sir Tristram soon recognized that Kaherdin’s cause was just, and therefore he made it his own, and he and the noble Kaherdin fought as comrades-in-arms.
Now whichever side was joined by Sir Tristram became victorious in not a very long time, and in the final battle Tristram unhorsed the caitiff Riol and then he struck off his head.
And Kaherdin did love Sir Tristram greatly for liberating his country, and he would know how he might reward him.
But Sir Tristram said, “My lord, I will take no payment. It hath been my privilege to fight in a just cause, and ’tis my métier so to do. Now I shall take meat with you, and then I shall go on my way.”
Therefore Kaherdin ordered a great banquet to be prepared in his newly regained castle, and to this feast came all the lords and ladies of Brittany, and his own sister as well, who had been imprisoned by the miscreant Riol.
Now when Sir Tristram saw this sister of Kaherdin’s he was taken aback, for she did look a twin of La Belle Isold as she had been when he had brought her to Cornwall from Ireland many years ago. And next another amazing thing occurred, for Kaherdin conducted the fair maiden to Sir Tristram and he spake as follows.
“My dear friend Tristram, may I present my sister, Isold of the White Hands.”
Now Isold of the White Hands had never seen so handsome a knight as Sir Tristram, and it was he who had freed her from the imprisonment of the felon Riol, and she was fifteen years old. Therefore she fell in love with him on the moment.
And Sir Tristram loved her insofar as she was the image of the young La Belle Isold and had the same name, and seeing that love reflected on Tristram’s face when he looked at Isold of the White Hands, her brother Kaherdin said to him, “Tristram my friend, if thou dost refuse a reward for liberating my land, then might I ask of thee still another favor? For methinks thou art a knight who must ever give and not take, most Christianly.”
“Noble Kaherdin,” said Sir Tristram, “I took something once, but in dishonor and unlawfully, and then I gave it back. And since then I have had no joy whatever, nor have I retrieved mine honor, for once gone it doth never return: and therefore I have carried a blank shield to signify the insignificance of my life.”
“Well,” said Kaherdin, “I know nought of thy past, my friend, but I can not think that ignobility did touch it at any point. But, whatever, the present is here and the future shall come. Now the boon I ask of thee, Sir Tristram (and thou canst not refuse it in courtesy!) is that, as we are brothers of the heart, we become brothers in the law. I would that thou marry my sister, Tristram!”
“Thy sister, noble Kaherdin?” asked Sir Tristram, and he was amazed.
“Isold of the White Hands,” said Kaherdin, “the most beautiful maiden in Britain the Lesser, and she doth love thee greatly.” For though Isold of the White Hands had said nought, her eyes spake for her adoration, and in offering her hand to Sir Tristram her brother served her own dearest wish.
Now Tristram could never love anyone in the world but La Belle Isold, who was married to King Mark, but this royal maiden of Brittany did resemble her so greatly and her name was the same, and never again could he hold the original Isold in his arms. Therefore he found himself agreeing to the proposal of his friend Kaherdin.
“Yea,” said he, “I will marry thy sister, my friend.”
And hearing this, though he did not look at her at this time, Isold of the White Hands did swoon in happiness, while Kaherdin made the greatest joy.
Now the wedding came and went, and it was a splendid occasion, and Kaherdin gave Tristram a castle on the edge of the sea, which was quite as grand as his own, and everybody in the land rejoiced, save Tristram who sat all day upon a stone which had been anciently carved by the Druids, and he stared across the water towards Cornwall.
And a year so passed, and then one day when Kaherdin came to their castle to visit Sir Tristram and Isold of the White Hands the weather was so fine that Isold had the cooks prepare food for to eat on a pi
cnic (and this was rillettes and cold pintadeau and the cheese of Camembert and grapes and gâteau breton, and the wine of the Loire), and she and her brother went to a lovely glade in the forest where there was a crystal brook. And Sir Tristram did not accompany them, for he said he must attend to a certain duty, and what he did was to go and sit upon his stone on the precipice overlooking the sea, into which he did not throw himself only because he was a knight of great piety.
Now after they had eaten, Isold of the White Hands did see the water as so inviting on a warm day that she determined to splash her fair feet in it, and therefore she removed her satin shoes and she so did. And Kaherdin watched her affectionately, for he remembered when she had been a little girl and behaved merrily.
Then Isold of the White Hands suddenly kicked the water with violence, and it splashed high on her leg, for she had drawn up her robe over her knees when sitting down on the bank of the brook. And she had been smiling pleasantly before, but now she laughed aloud, and the laughter did not have a jolly sound.
“Well, Sister,” asked Kaherdin, “dost laugh in chagrin at the wetting of the fine stuff of thy skirt?”
“Nay, Kaherdin, I laugh at the boldness of the water, which taketh more liberties with my limbs than doth the bold Tristram,” said Isold of the White Hands, but she did not laugh further.
Now Kaherdin was disturbed by these news. Therefore he pressed her for confirmation of what they led him to suspect. And Isold reddened, but finally she told him that after one year of marriage she was yet intact.
At this Kaherdin did wax wroth, and he forthwith went to Sir Tristram, where he sat upon his stone, and he repeated to him what Isold of the White Hands had told him.
“Now,” said he to Sir Tristram, “I have known thee as a knight of the greatest worship, and to thee alone I owe the return of my kingdom. But to avoid the bed of my sister is to make a grave insult to me and my family, who art of the Breton blood royal. Therefore I see no way in which this shame can be expunged except to fight thee, sorry as it would make me, for thou art my dearest friend and my relative in law.”
Arthur Rex Page 36
