He watched his chance; and one day, riding on the seashore, he saw how Tristan let the reins fall slack on his horse’s neck, and how he rode half-turned in the saddle and looking out to sea, quite forgetful of his companion. And he said, ‘What is it you see out there?’
Tristan started, and came back into himself. ‘Only the waves and the seabirds.’
‘Are you sure?’ said Karherdin.
‘What else should I see?’
‘Cornwall lies that way.’ (For Tristan had long since told him he was from Cornwall after Lothian.)
‘And why should I be looking towards Cornwall?’
‘I was wondering if you were looking for the thing, whatever – whoever – it may be, that holds you from loving my sister as a man should love his wife.’
Tristan started, and his hand on the rein set his horse dancing; and when he had quietened it, he turned to Karherdin and asked, ‘What makes you think that I do not?’
‘I have watched you together often enough. And always – more and more of late – you are like a man whose heart is somewhere else, and his breast empty within him.’
Tristan rode in silence a while, along the line between the wet sand and the dry; and then he said, ‘It is true as you say. I have no power to love your sister Iseult, for all the love that I have I left behind me long ago in Cornwall, with another Iseult.’
‘I have heard that the Queen of Cornwall bears that name,’ said Karherdin.
And again they rode in silence between the wet sand and the dry. Then Karherdin said, ‘Men say that she is very fair.’
‘Men speak true,’ said Tristan. ‘She is more beautiful than any other woman that I have ever seen. But if she were bent and ugly as old Ginna who begs at the castle gate, still I must love her . . . Day and night the longing for her drags at me. Day by day and night by night it grows worse and not easier . . .’ And again he set his horse dancing in protest. ‘Karherdin, my brother, it is come to this – that I must go back and see her once more, or I think that I shall die or run mad!’
‘And when you have seen her?
‘I do not know,’ Tristan said, and his voice was hoarse and weary as the voice of one who had lain too long wakeful and in pain. ‘It may be that by seeing her I shall ease my heart and come back to Iseult White-hands. I know only that as I am I am no good to any woman, nor any man. But how should you understand?’
‘Better, maybe, than you would think,’ said Karherdin, looking straight between his horse’s ears. ‘For I too see a woman’s face always between me and the sun.’
And after a while, Tristan said, ‘Tell me, then?’
‘It was before ever Duke Jovelin came seeking my sister’s hand. One day when I was riding, I came upon a band of maidens gathering hawthorn branches, for it was the first day of May. One of them – she seemed to me the fairest of them all – told me her name was Gargeolain, and we met again and again and made secret promises to marry when she had seen another summer go by, for she was very young. But I was called away to trouble on my father’s borders, and when I returned, they had forced her into marriage with a vassal chief called Bedenis. He was among those who besieged Carhaix last year.’
‘But if she was unwilling, why did she not tell them she was yours – call on your father for aid?’
‘She knew only that I was a man called Karherdin – and that’s no uncommon name in Brittany. I never told her I was my father’s son, for it was sweet to me to be loved as a man and not a prince. Oh, I had meant to tell her later, but when I was sent away there was no time; and so when Bedenis came seeking her, she could say only, “I am promised to a man called Karherdin” – and he was not to be found.’
‘And you have never seen her since?’
‘Yes, twice. Her lord rides hunting almost every day and never takes her with him, but keeps her close shut in his stronghold, behind high walls, for he is a most jealous man. And twice, passing by along the track that leads below the castle mound, I have looked up and seen her standing on the ramparts. A long way off, but I could not be mistaken.’
Then again they rode in silence between the dry sand and the wet, until at last Tristan burst out, ‘Karherdin my brother, for the sake of all that you feel for Gargeolain, help me to leave Brittany for Cornwall once more. I swear that I will come back.’
And Karherdin said, ‘Now that the realm is at peace and we can be spared, let us go on a journey together. I hear that King Marc breeds fine horses, and I am minded to add to my stables – it will serve as excuse at my father’s Court.’
So with only Gorvenal and a trusted armour-bearer of Karherdin’s for company, they took ship and sailed for Cornwall, and made their way to the hall of Tristan’s old friend Dynas of Liden, the High Steward. And Tristan begged him, ‘Go to the Queen for me, show her this ring and bid her to arrange two days’ hunting in the White Lands. Bid her to see that they take the valley track, and at a certain point, I will be lying hidden among the bushes, and I will flick a green reed into her horse’s mane, for a sign to her that I am there – it is an old, idle trick of mine she will remember. And where she receives the sign, there let her persuade the King to halt and make his hunting camp for the night.’
‘Once,’ said Dynas, ‘I begged the King for your banishment in place of your death, and offered to pledge my own honour you should not return to Cornwall. The King would not listen to me, and therefore I hold myself free in this matter.’
And he went to Tintagel, and contriving to get word with the Queen alone, showed her the ring and gave her Tristan’s message.
She turned from white to red and back to white again; but she made no sound and gave no sign, for though they had drawn aside into an inner doorway, they were in the same room in which the King and one of his lords were playing chess beside the hearth. Only she turned to the chess-players. ‘My Lord, your High Steward brings word of a fine twelve-point stag that has been seen in the White Lands. Shall we go hunting tomorrow? For truly I grow weary of Tintagel walls, this fine blue autumn weather.’
The High Steward returned with his message. And when the shadows lengthened on the next evening, Tristan and Karherdin were lying up in the heart of a hawthorn thicket where the valley track led into the White Lands – it was from the thorns that fleeced all the country round about with a snow of blossom in the spring, that those hunting-runs got their name. They had sent Gorvenal and Karherdin’s armour-bearer back with the horses to the High Steward’s hall, and they were alone in the woods touched with the first fires of autumn.
The shadows lengthened and lengthened and the sunlight grew thick like floating gold-dust in the air. And then at last they heard the sound of hooves and feet far off down the track. Nearer and nearer came the sounds, until the foremost of the hunting party came into view; the servants, leading mules laden with rolled up tents and awnings, with pots and pans and great baskets of provisions and all the wherewithal to make the hunting camp. After they had gone by, came the steward and cupbearers; and then the falconers with the hooded falcons on their fists and the huntsmen with the King’s great hounds in leash.
Tristan froze as the hounds passed by, his heart beating thick and heavy in his throat. But he and Karherdin had chosen their positions with care, on the down-wind side of the track; and no breath of air carried their scent to the hounds.
After the huntsmen came the King himself, riding among his nobles. And Tristan, watching between the tangled thorn branches, saw how his hair had greyed beneath the leather cap he wore, and how his face had aged and grown hard and heavy. But he passed on with all the rest; and behind him followed the Queen’s maidens with her pages and cupbearers, riding in pairs. And last of all, riding with only Brangian and Perenis beside her, and the hound Bran running at her horse’s heels, came Iseult the Queen; and instantly to Tristan it was as though another sun had risen and dawn was in the sky as well as sunset.
Beside him he heard Karherdin’s whisper, ‘That is she?’
And he nodde
d, and drew back his hand with the green reed he held, and sent it skimming like a dart into her horse’s mane as she passed.
Iseult looked down and saw it clinging there; she glanced aside at Brangian; but never towards the thorn-brake from which it had come. She plucked the reed out and flicked it away as though it was a thing that had come there by chance. She brought her horse to a halt, and said to Perenis, ‘Ride ahead and beg the King to make camp here in this pleasant place for the night, for we have ridden far, and suddenly I am very weary.’
And as her maidens began to turn back and gather round her, she dismounted, and sat herself down on a mossy tree-trunk beside the way, taking care to keep the hound Bran close at her side.
Presently Perenis returned. ‘My Lord the King bids me tell you that this is not a fit place to camp, for the bushes grow so close that they would give cover to wolf or enemy right into our midst. But a short way further on there is open land and sweet water.’
‘What enemy does the King fear in his own hunting runs?’ said Iseult. ‘No wolf will come in among the camp fires; and if there is sweet water so close, let the servants fetch it. Go tell the King that I am too weary to ride even a short way further, and beg him to make camp here.’
So Perenis rode off again; and in a short while, watching from his thorn thicket, Tristan saw the whole hunting party coming back. He touched Karherdin on the shoulder, and they slipped away further up the hillside; and there they lay watching the camp servants setting up the striped tents and building the cooking fires as best they could in the wooded and bush-grown valley. Presently the smoke of the cooking fires rose from among the thorn trees, and torches began to flare in the deepening dusk; and Tristan heard the voices of the hunting party at their evening meal, and the struck notes of a harp.
When they had done feasting under the trees, the Queen rose and withdrew with her maidens to the crimson tent which had been set up for her near the thorn-brake from which the green reed had come. She sent her maidens away, all save Brangian, and when they were alone she said to her friend, ‘Set the torch over yonder, and high, where it will cast only a little shadow if anyone should happen to come into the tent. Now go after the rest, and if the King should come this way, tell him that I am already asleep and would not be wakened.’
And still, among the thorn trees further up the hillside, Tristan waited, watching the camp below him until it was quiet, watching the glimmer of light from the Queen’s tent, like a dim red rose in the shadows of the autumn night.
At last he rose, and went down towards it, silent as another shadow, while Karherdin lay among the thorn bushes and watched him go.
The cloak that hung over the entrance to the tent had been drawn aside, and he went in.
The old hound crouching at Iseult’s side sprang up at his coming, and came whining to rub its great shaggy head against his knees. And beyond, Iseult sat among the piled cushions, combing her hair that was red as hot copper in the smoky torchlight.
She said, ‘Put out the torch. It has served to guide you to me, and the moon is better for keeping secrets.’ And she laid aside her silver comb and held out her arms to him.
14
Iseult’s Laughter
NEXT MORNING VERY early, with the autumn mist still hanging between the trees, Tristan and Iseult took their leave of each other. ‘Let me see that you still have my ring,’ Iseult said in the last instant; and Tristan showed it to her, hanging on a leather thong round his neck. She touched it. ‘Does your wife, this other Iseult that you told me of in the night, ever wonder why you wear a woman’s ring about your neck?’
‘She has had wisdom enough not to ask.’
‘She has more wisdom that I would have had in her place,’ Iseult said. ‘There, put it back inside your tunic; and remember always, that it will call me to you. And remember also, the Geis that I set on you the last time we parted.’
‘I shall not forget. Anything that I am asked to do in your name, I will do, because I love you.’
Then she took his face between her hands and kissed him; and he left her in the doorway of the tent and slipped out through the still sleeping camp and away up the hill to where Karherdin waited for him.
They said nothing as to the night, but set out towards the Steward’s hall. But they did not go all the way; Tristan had no wish to run any further risk of bringing trouble upon Dynas, his friend; and he had ordered Gorvenal and Karherdin’s armour-bearer to meet them at a certain place with the horses, that they might all ride straight for the south coast of Cornwall.
Now by ill chance, one of King Marc’s nobles, Beri by name, coming late to join the hunt with several companions, chanced to see them on their way to the meeting-place. Karherdin’s armour-bearer was dark, and of the same slight build as Tristan, and the man caught only a glimpse of him in passing, but recognised Gorvenal with him, and so thought that he was Tristan indeed, and called after him to halt, meaning to find out what he did in Cornwall and tell him of the hunt, for Beri was a friend to the Queen, though a somewhat foolish one.
When Gorvenal heard Tristan’s name called after them, he said quickly to the young armour-bearer, ‘Ride! If they come up with us there may be sore trouble for us all!’ And they struck spurs to their horses’ flanks and broke into a gallop, the lead horses with them.
At their backs they heard the drum of hooves as Beri gave chase, and his voice, shouting above the hooves, ‘Tristan! Tristan, would you be flying like a thief? Turn for your honour!’
‘Ride!’ said Gorvenal.
‘Then in the name of the Queen Iseult, if you still love her!’
‘Ride!’ said Gorvenal.
The man’s shouts grew fainter behind them, and at last they knew that they had shaken off both him and his company. Then they fetched a wide circle over the moors, and came back at last to the place where Tristan and Karherdin were waiting for them.
‘You have been slow on the road, then,’ said Tristan.
‘We were forced to be taking a long way round to shake off some men who rode on our trail,’ said Gorvenal. ‘They must have taken Bryn for you, for one of them – it was Beri, if I am not mistaken – called after him to turn, first for his honour’s sake, and then in the name of the Queen if he still loved her.’
And when he heard this, Tristan could have thrown up his head and howled like a dog, remembering his promise to Iseult, and knowing the harm that had been done all unwitting.
Meanwhile Beri, having lost the man whom he supposed to be Tristan, rode on to join the hunt deeply troubled, and contriving to get word with the Queen alone, told her how he had seen Tristan and called him to stop, and how he had struck spurs to his horse and galloped off, refusing to turn even when called upon in the name of the Queen herself.
As she listened, the anger rose hot and most bitter within Iseult, and she remembered the promise that Tristan had made again to her only that morning. He has broken faith with me, she thought. And never could he have done that while he still loved me. All his promises are false, and it is Iseult of the White Hands who holds his heart now.
Then she called Perenis to her, and bade him ride after Tristan and tell him that since he could forget his promises so easily, he had best forget all that had ever been between them.
Away rode Perenis, with a heavy heart. He knew where Tristan and Karherdin were to meet the others with the horses, and the road that they would take from thereon towards the south; and at the ford of a stream he came up with them and delivered to Tristan his message.
When he had heard it, Tristan said, ‘That is what I feared. Perenis, have you ever known me false to the Queen?’
Perenis shook his head.
‘Then go back to her, and tell her this: that it was not I whom the Lord Beri saw, but an amour-bearer – see, there he stands, dark as I am and built much as I am – coming up with Gorvenal to meet me with the horses. He knew nothing of the promise between my lady and me. Say to her that if it had been me, I would have turned, for he
r sake, though there rode an enemy warhost on my trail.’
‘I will tell her,’ said Perenis. ‘But I am not sure if she will believe, for she is angry past clear listening and past thought.’
‘Do the best that you can,’ said Tristan, ‘and bring me back her word. We will be waiting for you here.’
So back again went Perenis, over the weary way, and found the Queen already gone to her tent, for by this time it was night. He told her faithfully all that Tristan had said; but she listened with a cold face turned aside. And when he had finished, she said only, ‘What did Tristan give you to tell me this story.’
‘My lady,’ said Perenis, ‘you are unjust, both to my Lord Tristan and to me!’
She looked long into his face, and laughed. ‘No bribe? Why, you simple soul, you believe him! Then go back and tell him that I do not believe so easily as you!’
‘Lady, will you not send a kinder message?’
‘Why should I? I do not care for faith-breakers,’ said she.
So back yet again went Perenis, on a fresh horse, but himself wearied to the bone; and came in the dark end of the night to the place where Tristan and his companions waited, wrapped in their cloaks and with their horses tethered nearby.
Tristan listened, sitting where he had sat all night beside the low fire that they had kept burning against wolves. And he bent his head on to his crossed arms and groaned.
‘There is nothing more to be done,’ said Karherdin. ‘As soon as it is light, we will ride. If we can find a ship, we can be back in Brittany within five days. My sister is not so fair as the Queen of Cornwall, but she is kinder.’
But Tristan was not hearing him at all. ‘I will go to her myself,’ he said. ‘I cannot leave her holding this against me.’
Gorvenal said, ‘To go back is madness! It is to throw your life away!’
‘No, for I shall not go in my own seeming. But if it were to throw my life away, still I could not leave her like this.’
Tristan and Iseult Page 9
