“My dear brother Kaherdin,” said Sir Tristram, “thou speakest with perfect justice, for I am afraid that as thy sister’s husband I am an impostor. It was very wrong for me to have married her, for my heart belongeth to another, whom I can not have, and whom thy sister is very like in appearance and name. But no two of God’s creatures are alike except superficially, and I can perform the virile office with but one woman only in the world. Therefore I see no alternative to a fight between us, by means of which thou canst recover the honor of which I have, though without malicious intent, deprived thee.”
And Kaherdin did ponder on these words awhile. And then he said, “Tristram, my friend, now that I have heard the explanation for thy delinquency, I believe that a passage at arms must be only our last resort, for how lamentable it would be if brothers fought!” Then Kaherdin asked Tristram if he had lately seen the lady he so loved.
“Not for some years,” said Sir Tristram, and though he knew the exact amount of the time unto the very minute since he had last seen La Belle Isold, he believed it would be offensive to Kaherdin to be so particular.
“Well,” said Kaherdin, “the human heart is a subtle organ, my friend, the which oft groweth more ardent in memory of its past loves in the degree to which they are past. Now here is my proposal: that we travel together to see this lady, for methinks she be in some foreign country and not here in the Lesser Britain. Now it well may happen that if once thou dost see her again she may seem otherwise to thee than she appears in thy recollection.”
And though Tristram knew that this could never be, he agreed with his brother-in-law Kaherdin, on whom he had brought shame, and he would do all he could to appease him.
Therefore Kaherdin went to his sister Isold of the White Hands, and he told her that he and Tristram must go upon a journey for to deal with the problem of which she had spoken, and that he had great faith that when they returned she would be made happy.
And Isold of the White Hands who was yet a maiden did therefore yet have a sense of love as being a gladsome thing if it were only consummated, and she was pleased to hear these news. And that Sir Tristram did not come to bid her good-by she believed was owing to his embarrassment, whereas actually he did forget to do this entirely, so eager was he (as well as full of dread) to see La Belle Isold once more.
Then Sir Tristram and Kaherdin sailed for Cornwall, and when they landed secretly there they did both attire themselves in ragged clothes and they stained their faces with walnut juice, and in the guise of beggars they made the journey to Tintagel on foot.
Now as it happened King Mark was at just that time removing his court from Tintagel to his other castle at Terrabil (at which it will be remembered that his predecessor Gorlois was once besieged by Uther Pendragon). And he was doing this so as to please his wife La Belle Isold. For not long before, a wandering minstrel had come to Tintagel, and King Mark having his old love of music had invited him to sing for his supper. But all singing was listened to by La Belle Isold with great sadness, for any music reminded her of Tristram, whom she loved every minute of her life, and the first thing they had done after drinking the magic potion on the Irish Sea was to sing together.
Now this minstrel had been to the Lesser Britain on his wanderings, and having seen the splendid wedding of Tristram to the beautiful princess Isold of the White Hands, he wrote a lovely song about it, and this was the first thing he sang at Tintagel.
And no sooner than she heard the first verses of it La Belle Isold put her face into her hands and she wept copiously, and even King Mark was affected. Therefore he stopped the minstrel and whereas in a former time he would have had severely whipped a singer whose song displeased him, he now rewarded this man with gold before sending him away.
“My dear Isold,” said King Mark, “I would do whatever I could to make thee happy, but alas! I fear I can do nothing.”
“You are a very fine king, Mark, and I hold you in all respect and affection,” said La Belle Isold, “and that you have not required me to perform my wifely duties is the most marvelously kind thing that hath ever been done in all the world.”
And King Mark’s eyes were wet as well. “Never hath there been such a love as thine and Tristram’s since the world began,” said he, “which though illegal in the extreme and the greatest offense against me, hath yet made me a better king, for so ironical is the truth, Isold.”
And he smiled sadly at her, and he said, “Tintagel hath so many unhappy memories for us both. I know that in thine heart of hearts thou didst hope that despite his vow Tristram would return to it once again. He will not, if he is married now. Let us then remove to Terrabil. ’Tis comfortable enough and with notable gardens, and from it one can not look hopelessly upon the sea.”
Now with the news of Sir Tristram’s wedding there was nothing on earth that meant ought to Isold, and hearing that he was married she now became in appearance an old woman, and her black hair turned chalk-white and her skin did wither and yellow. Yet King Mark saw her always as the young princess she had been when lately come from Ireland.
And when the court did remove from Tintagel for to go to Terrabil there was a great procession many leagues long, and this traveled along the very road used by Sir Tristram and Kaherdin in their disguise as beggars.
Now in the middle of this procession was an elderly royal personage on a palfrey, and a robust Irish waiting-woman accompanied her.
“Ah,” said Kaherdin to Sir Tristram, “here cometh the queen, who is quite aged, but she who attendeth her is young and very beautiful.” And it was the loyal Brangwain to whom he referred, and no other man had ever been taken with her, but beauty being in the eye of the beholder, the noble Kaherdin fell in love with Brangwain at this moment.
But then he gasped and he said, “Tristram, my friend and brother, of course this is thy very lady love! Well, I can believe in the depth and ardor of thy feeling, seeing her! By contrast, my sister, thy wife, is quite plain. Ah woe,” said he. For love doth blind an otherwise keen vision, and his unhappiness was not only for his sister and Sir Tristram but for himself, for he loved Brangwain more every minute that he looked upon her robust face and rubicund complexion.
But poor Tristram made no response, for he had recognized La Belle Isold at a great distance, and he had looked at no one else nor heard no sound. And unlike Mark he did not see her as a young maiden but rather as she was, with white hair and yellowed skin, for his own love was not blind but clear-sighted and therefore tragic—and he loved her more than he ever had before, the which was more than anybody had loved anyone on the earth except Isold in her love for him.
And she rode slowly past him, where he stood in a ditch alongside the road, and her head was down and she looked only within. But when they came opposite to where Tristram and Kaherdin stood bowing, Brangwain did ride next the queen and tell her these beggars were there, for Isold did ever give money to those in want, and from her purse La Belle Isold took some gold coins and without looking to where they went she flung them into the ditch.
“Well, fellows,” cried Brangwain, “ye may go and fetch that money, I’m sure.”
And never had Kaherdin heard a more melodious voice. But Sir Tristram heard nothing nor did he see anybody in the great procession many leagues long but his beloved Isold. And he watched her until she could no longer be seen.
And then Sir Tristram and Kaherdin did sadly and silently return whence they had come, and when they were in Brittany once more, Kaherdin spake to Tristram as follows.
“My friend,” said he, “thy lady love is so beautiful that I can not find the heart to condemn thee for the insult to my blood. Thou canst not help thyself, that is clear. What man would not feel the same! But what I do not understand is why this maiden was forbidden to thee before thou wert married to another.”
“Maiden?” asked Sir Tristram. “She is the queen of Cornwall! But alas! when she was a maiden she was first mine enemy, and then when next I came for her she was already affianced to K
ing Mark mine uncle.”
And only then did Kaherdin understand that Tristram’s love was for La Belle Isold, and since to him the queen seemed an aged woman and ugly, he believed Sir Tristram to be a perverse knight and perhaps a felon, and therefore his honor was besmirched and he must needs challenge Sir Tristram. And this he did.
And Kaherdin went to his sister Isold of the White Hands, and he said to her, “Forgive me, little sister, for wedding thee to this knight, who is not a man of worship. I shall fight him, and though he is a knight of great prowess, may God give me the strength to overcome him in this virtuous cause.”
But Isold of the White Hands did not join in this prayer, for as it happened she dearly loved Sir Tristram regardless, and she would have waited forever for him to return that love, not knowing that that was impossible. But as she could not hope that her brother Kaherdin would be killed, she was in grief all the night.
Now when Sir Tristram and Kaherdin fought together, at dawn on the following day, Sir Tristram refused to defend himself, and therefore Kaherdin’s prayer was answered, as it might not have been had Tristram raised his weapons. (Nor would Kaherdin, being a prince of the greatest worship, have fought a man who did not defend himself, had he not been in a righteous fury to uphold the honor of his family.)
And therefore Sir Tristram fell with a mortal wound in his side, in the same place where he had been wounded so long ago in his fight with the Morholt.
Now when Kaherdin saw that he had hurt his brother-in-law so badly, he knew that his honor had been vindicated, and he grieved for his friend, and he had him carried into the castle and he called for his own physicians to come and to cure Sir Tristram. But they could do nothing.
And Isold of the White Hands sat with him night and day, and she washed Tristram’s wound and she changed the bandages thereon, and she sought to feed him broths, but he could not eat and he ever grew worse. And Isold of the White Hands would have given her own life to save his, had she been able, for so much did she love him.
Now Tristram grew delirious and in his swoon he called for “Isold!” but if Isold of the White Hands came to him he turned aside and yet called for “Isold.”
And when this had happened many times Isold of the White Hands told her brother that she feared Sir Tristram in dying had lost his reason as well. And Kaherdin went to his bed, and he felt great pity for his friend and he was sorry that he had had to bring him to this pass.
“Tristram, my dear brother,” said he, “now that no dishonor stands between us, I would do anything to preserve thy life.”
“My friend Kaherdin,” said Sir Tristram, “would that I had never had to wound thee first in thine honor, the which wounding hath brought this about! For what troubles me is thy distress. The loss of the world is nothing to me, who did lose long since all of it that I cared about. I am ready to go to the kinder Hell. But before I do, I would see La Belle Isold once more.”
And Kaherdin thought to himself that while he could not understand Tristram’s love for the aged queen, there was something grand if he so persisted in it on his very deathbed.
“My dear Tristram,” said he, “I shall go to Cornwall immediately and do all I can to persuade her to come back here with me.”
And Sir Tristram’s eyes were suddenly taken with new vitality, and he raised himself on his pillow. “Kaherdin, there is nought that would be immoral in this, for La Belle Isold is a notable physician, and she once before cured me of a wound as terrible as the one I have now.”
“Well,” said Kaherdin, who hearing this believed he now knew why Tristram was so devoted to Queen Isold, “then there is no reason why she would not come, for all physicians do have a divine obligation to treat the ailing. And she will cure thee, my friend! Therefore we can rejoice.”
Now Sir Tristram had a more profound sense of things than did Kaherdin, and he said, “’Tis wise to remain Greek, my dear friend, in regard to fate, and not to celebrate good fortune until it hath been established, for though our God is not the pagan idols whom they worshiped, He doth methinks have much the same response to hubris.”
Then Sir Tristram said, “I would be taken to my stone overlooking the sea, to await thy return, so that I might watch for thy sail. And further I would have thee, when thou dost come in sight of the cliffs of Brittany on thy return voyage, to display some signal as to whether La Belle Isold be aboard. For the suspense I should feel when seeing the ship on the horizon would thereby be relieved.”
“Aye,” agreed Kaherdin, “that can I do, for my ship hath two different sets of mainsail, one in white and the other in black. Now when approaching the coast of Lesser Britain it shall show the white if Isold be aboard.”
“And the black if not,” said Sir Tristram, and he fell back onto his pillow.
“But that is surely unlikely,” said Kaherdin. “Thou must be of good cheer.” And soon he left to travel to Cornwall.
And Tristram was carried to his stone on the cliff which looked onto the sea, and a pavilion was erected there to protect him from the weather when it was foul. And there he lay on his bed and he watched the horizon all day. And Isold of the White Hands attended him, and she knew only that he awaited the coming of a physician, but she knew not who that physician was.
Now when Kaherdin reached the castle of Terrabil in Cornwall and came to Queen Isold and told her that Sir Tristram would surely die unless she came to treat him, she agreed to leave for Brittany immediately. And King Mark gave his hearty assent to this journey, for he grieved greatly for his nephew.
And La Belle Isold and Kaherdin began the return voyage, and with them they took the loyal Brangwain, who as we know was the source of the curative ointments and potions used by La Belle Isold to heal wounds (and also, alas! to drink and so to fall eternally in love).
Now Kaherdin was pleased to be near Brangwain, whom he loved greatly, and in return that loyal handmaiden, who had never expected to attract a prince (or indeed any other man) and who had adored Sir Tristram at a distance, was not long in falling in love with Kaherdin, who was a handsome man as well as the ruler of Lesser Britain. And were they not on a desperate mission they would have made greater joy together at this time.
Meanwhile Sir Tristram did weaken throughout the many days Kaherdin was gone, and finally his vision darkened so that he could not have discerned a sail had it appeared upon the horizon. And therefore he asked Isold of the White Hands to watch for him through a spyglass, and to tell him, so soon as a ship came into view, what be the color of its sail.
And his wife Isold promised to do this. But she asked him as to the significance of the respective colors.
“If white, I live, at least for a while,” said Sir Tristram. “But if the sail be black, I am dead.”
But Isold of the White Hands believed she still did not understand this scheme, and she questioned him further, and he was so weak that he fell into a delirium, in the which he came to take her for La Belle Isold at the time when they had been together in the wilds, and he spoke with great passion, and at length Isold of the White Hands came to know the truth in its entirety.
Now any truth concerning love is all but unbearable in the best of times, and to Isold of the White Hands, who had been gently reared and as yet had never been invaded by a man, the present moment was the worst in which she had ever lived. For she could have endured being an untouched bride had her husband been chaste for any other reason than that he could love only one other woman in the world.
And her great love for him turned into bitter hatred (for between these two feelings at no time is there the breadth of an hair). And when at last the ship appeared on the horizon and its sail was quite white, she put down her glass and she said to Sir Tristram, “The ship hath come, my lord.”
And hearing this Sir Tristram found the strength to raise his head and to take from her the spyglass and put it to his eye. But his vision was as of night and he could see nothing, and therefore he dropped the glass and fell back.
“Tell me for the love of God!” he cried. “Is it white, or is it black as death?”
And not knowing what she did in her hatred, for she was young and wounded in the heart, Isold of the White Hands spake but one harsh word to Tristram.
“Black,” she said, and she went away, for she did not think he would die through one word (but in truth she did not think of him at all, but rather of herself, after hearing that he loved another: for in love there is oft little mercy, which must be sought in loving-kindness or nowhere. And Sir Tristram himself, in leaving La Belle Isold because of his principles of honor, had been ruthless towards everybody concerned and he had brought unhappiness to all).
Now Isold of the White Hands was wrong in her doubt that one word could kill a man, and the heart of that great knight Sir Tristram of Lyonesse did burst when he heard her single word, and his life, the which had been so sad throughout, ended there and then.
And when the ship came into the harbor and La Belle Isold and Kaherdin and Brangwain had climbed up the cliff, they found the corse of Sir Tristram, and his dear physician had arrived only to bury him.
And when Sir Tristram had been lowered into the grave La Belle Isold suddenly stopped weeping, for her grief was too much for tears to express, and then she died herself on the instant, and her body was laid with Tristram’s and at last they were together eternally.
And when the earth was thrown onto the bodies, La Belle Isold was seen miraculously to be transformed again into a young maiden with hair of raven-black and cheeks of rose.
Now watching this, young Isold of the White Hands lost all of her hatred, and she might well have gone mad with grief at what she had done had she not been so pious, for God never intended that Sir Tristram should be made well upon earth, let alone happy, and in using Isold of the White Hands as His instrument He would not demand the loss of her reason as penance. Therefore she entered an holy order, and immured herself in a convent for the rest of her life, doing many good works, and she lived to a great age, but from the time of Tristram’s death on, though she was but seventeen when that happened, her hair was white and her skin turned yellow and withered, so that she seemed much older.
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