‘Then answered Mark: “On this thing have I set my heart: some means must be found.” He looked towards Tristram, and the lords murmured among themselves, for they grew jealous of Tristram, fearing that he would be next King of Cornwall if Mark had no children. Now Tristram knew of this, and wishing to prove to them that he had no ambitions towards the Kingship of Cornwall, he arose and said: “My uncle, and you, lords of Cornwall, this is a dangerous venture indeed – yet I will undertake it. For I have been once into Ireland, and there Queen Isaud cured me of my wound – though against Tristram of Lyonesse she had vowed eternal hatred and vengeance.”
‘Tristram set sail in one small ship with scarcely thirty men, and he came to Ireland at dead of night, and anchored his ship in a quiet haven. “If any question you,” he said to his faithful friend Kurwenal, who had accompanied him, “say that we are merchants, and that I your captain have gone into the land to make bargains with the merchants of Ireland.”
‘Now at that time there was a dragon in Ireland, a fearful monster which devoured the people and laid waste the land; and King Gurman had promised that whoever should slay the dragon might have to wife his daughter the Fair Iseult. This Tristram had heard, and he went on shore that night fully armed and sought out the dragon’s lair high up among the burnt rocks above a fire-scorched valley. Early in the morning, when the red rays of the rising sun slanted down the valley like blood dripping between the rocks, Tristram saw three knights, and one following them, ride over the pass and down towards the lair of the dragon. And anon he heard the dragon roar, and there came cries as of men in mortal anguish, and a cruel smoke curled up among the rocks; then the one man who had followed the knights at a distance came galloping back the way he had come, and spurring his horse to make it go yet faster. Now this was the Seneschal of King Gurman, a cowardly knight and a braggart, who dared never face the dragon, yet who boasted often that full many times he had ridden in quest of it.
‘Tristram rode quietly down the valley, and at length he saw the dragon standing over one of the knights whom it had slain. A terrible monster it was, with great shining claws, scales of blue and green, and jaws breathing fire and smoke between sharp white teeth. Tristram set his spear in rest and charged the dragon suddenly, his shield held well before him; and the monster turned at the sound of hooves, and made ready to seize him with open jaws. Right well aimed Sir Tristram, so that the spear entered at the dragon’s mouth and pierced deep towards its heart. Tristram leapt forward over the dragon’s head; and the monster, screaming with rage and pain, slew the horse in a blast of fire and began quickly to devour it. But the spear, though the wooden handle charred swiftly away, left its sharp point deep in the creature’s vitals, and it went screaming away into a rocky ravine, leaving the horse half-eaten.
‘Tristram followed swiftly on foot, and met the dragon at the valley’s head. There for an hour the battle raged, Tristram sheltering behind rocks lest the scorching flame should destroy him. Many times he wounded it, yet might not slay it, but the spear-point drew nearer to its heart, so that at last it rolled over in agony. Then Tristram rushed forward and drove in his sword right to the hilt; and so the dragon died; but in its dying it breathed such a blast of flame and poison upon Tristram that his shield melted and dripped from his arm, and he fell to the ground half poisoned by its breath.
‘Presently, however, he crept to the dead dragon and cut out its tongue, placing it in the pouch at his side. Then he began seeking for the way out of the valley, but ere long the poison overcame him, and he fell down in a deep swoon, and lay like one dead.
‘Then the false Seneschal came silently into the valley, and he saw the dragon lie dead, and Tristram dead also, or so it seemed. Laughing to himself that cowardly knight cut off the dragon’s head, bound it upon his horse and went with all speed to the Court of King Gurman. “Lord King!” he cried, “see, I have slain the dragon! Fulfil now your promise and give me in marriage your daughter the Fair Iseult.”
‘Then was Gurman much distressed, feeling full sure that the cowardly Seneschal could never have slain the dragon. Yet there was the head, and he knew not how to question the deed.
‘But Iseult the Fair came in tears to her mother, Queen Isaud: “Rather than marry him, I will slay myself!” she cried.
‘“Things have not come yet to such a pass,” answered Isaud the Queen. “For sure am I that the Seneschal slew not the dragon!”
‘That night the two of them went secretly to the place and found there the dead dragon, headless and terrible in the moonlight. And there also they found Tristram lying in a sore swoon.
‘Then Iseult cried out in surprise: “Lo, here lies Tramtris the minstrel, whether alive or dead I know not. He is clad in knightly armour, his shield is melted and his sword stained to the hilt with the dark blood of the dragon …”
‘Then they had Tristram carried secretly to the palace, and the Queen Isaud worked so well with her skill in medicine that in a little while Tristram came out of the swoon and told them how he had slain the dragon, showing as further proof the tongue which he had placed in his pouch.
‘Then Queen Isaud said: “Tell me, Tramtris, wherefore came you into Ireland, and why did you go up against the dragon?”
‘“I came as merchant,” Tristram answered, “and, feeling that we of Cornwall were not well loved of the Irish, I thought to find favour and peace in the sight of this folk by slaying the dragon.”
‘“Favour and peace shall be yours to your dying day,” said Isaud the Queen, and she swore it with a great oath.
‘The day came when King Gurman must redeem his pledge to the dragon-slayer, and the Seneschal came proudly before the Court, vaunting his courage and boasting that Iseult the Fair was his already. But Queen Isaud arose and defied him, and there came Tristram and called him coward and cheat.
‘“I slew the dragon!” cried the Seneschal. “Behold its head which I cut off before the beast was well dead!”
‘“Look within the dragon’s mouth,” commanded the Queen. And when they found that its tongue was gone, and that Tristram had it in his pouch, all men rejoiced at the proof, and mocked the Seneschal. But he grew mad with rage, called Tristram a liar and a thief, and challenged him to the ordeal by battle.
‘“On the third day shall the battle be,” said Gurman the King.
‘When the day was come, Iseult the Fair looked well to Tristram’s armour and her heart was heavy as she thought of what might chance that day. She drew Tristram’s sword out of its scabbard and gazed earnestly upon it; and as she did so, she saw that a chip was wanting from the blade. With a great fear at her heart she brought the piece of steel which had been drawn from the head of her uncle Sir Marhault – and it fitted exactly. Then she went swiftly to her mother and said:
‘“Lo! This minstrel Tramtris whom we have saved is none other than Tristram of Lyonesse who slew Marhault! Here you may see the proof by the sword which struck the blow – and with this sword will I now slay him!”
‘But the Queen held her back, and together they went to Tristram and spoke with him. Then he told them all, hiding not even the reason of his second coming to Ireland.
‘“Then let us swear peace with Sir Tristram,” said Isaud the Queen. “For King Mark is a noble match for you, and a brave man. But if Tristram does not help us, then the Seneschal must become your husband.”
‘So the oath was sworn, and Tristram went forth to do battle with the Seneschal: and he fought so well that day that the Seneschal died beneath his sword, and Iseult the Fair was won as wife to King Mark.
‘Tristram’s ship put into Dublin with all honour, and the cabin was made ready to receive Iseult, who came aboard, the loveliest damsel in the world, followed only by Brangwain her faithful friend and attendant.
‘Now before the ship set sail, Queen Isaud by her arts brewed a strange potion. She set it in a wine-flask and brought it to the Lady Brangwain, saying to her:
‘“Lo, now I give into your keeping m
y daughter’s happiness. Guard you this potion with your life, and see to it that on her wedding-day the Princess Iseult drinks of it, and King Mark also, and none else besides. For it is a love potion, so strong that nothing in the world may undo its effects – so strong that once a man and a maiden have drunk of it together, they shall love one another even unto the world’s end with a love greater than any in the world.”
‘Tristram set sail from Dublin, and the ship was many days on the high seas, sailing merrily through the joyous spring-tide, leaping like a white bird of love from the curling waves. All day Iseult the Fair sat in the cabin, and there Tristram tended her, singing brave lays of great lovers and mighty deeds, telling her tales of old Cornwall – of Ygerne the Queen, and how Merlin brought Uther Pendragon to dark Tintagel – telling in song and in story of Arthur the good King and his knights, the flower of chivalry, and of the wondrous realm of Logres which they were building up like the clear light of God in the dark land of Britain. But Lady Brangwain took no joy in the dancing waves, but lay sick in a cabin far apart.
‘On a day when song and tale were ended and Iseult sat with Tristram playing at chess with pieces wrought cunningly in red and in white ivory upon a chess-board of carved cedar, they grew thirsty. Then Tristram espied the flask of wine which stood in a casket in the great cabin, and Iseult said, laughing:
‘“Brangwain has brought it with her to drink when the sickness of the sea departs from her! Let us drink it now, and when she rises from her bed she will find but an empty bottle!”
‘They poured the wine into golden cups, knowing not that it was the love potion brewed by Isaud the wise queen, knowing not that they held fate in their hands, and gave themselves to much joy and a deeper sorrow. Then, laughing still, they pledged one another, draining the sweet wine to the very dregs.
‘Straightway strong love awoke in their hearts, and the world grew dim because of the light which now shone about each of them to the other’s eyes. As they drained the flask, Brangwain entered the cabin and saw what had chanced. She spoke no word of it to them for many a year thereafter, but, cold at heart, she flung the wine-flask far into the deep sea, lamenting that she had ever come upon that voyage, lamenting that drink which should be the death of Tristram and Iseult.
‘Fair was that voyage through the sunny seas, more bright the sunshine than ever it might be again. For Tristram and Iseult spoke together soon of their great love, and were happy for the brief hours of their youth – more happy than any lovers since this world began. Speeding over the blue sea they forgot the sorrow that awaited them in Cornwall, forgot the struggle betwixt love and honour, and remembered only that spring was short, and that love held them as one in the joyous sunlight.
‘All too soon came the tall ship to the dark crags of Tintagel: and there Iseult the Fair was wedded to Mark the King of Cornwall. For that way it seemed that honour called her, and for honour Tristram must let go his love and leave his youth behind him. Moreover, had he sailed away with Iseult, such war would have been ‘twixt Cornwall and Ireland that might not have ended without the slaying of many men and the keen sorrow of two kingdoms.
‘Little else is there to tell. Tristram in Lyonesse wrought many deeds, till his fame was carried through the world. But ever he loved Iseult the Queen of Cornwall, and ever she loved him and hated Mark.
‘Then one spring love triumphed over honour, and Mark’s wife sought Tristram in the greenwood. She went a-hunting with Brangwain her maid, and Mark, suspecting naught, set Tristram his nephew in command of her huntsmen and attendants. But right soon the hunt was left behind them and the lovers sat alone together by a clear stream where the white daisies dew the new grass like tears.
‘They met again – many and many a time: love was turned into fear and grew dark and wild: for so love must that is lawless and dishonourable. Yet blame them not over-much, for the love-charm was upon them always … For them surely there is much excuse, where none could be for others who thus break their vows.
‘Ere long the nobles, who still hated Tristram, grew to suspect his love, and whispered of it to Mark. The King for long would not believe it, for well he loved and trusted both wife and nephew. But on a day Marjodo, a jealous knight, brought Mark where he might see Tristram and Iseult seated under a tree together, close by the murmuring stream: after that there was no longer room for doubt.
‘King Mark called together his council and sought to have Tristram condemned to death. But this, though they hated him, his nobles and his knights would not permit: for none there was so mighty as Tristram, and no man so fit to save Cornwall in times of need. Moreover the people loved him, and had he been put to death civil war might have broken out.
‘So King Mark banished Sir Tristram, sent him out of Cornwall and far from Lyonesse – so far from Iseult the Fair that hardly might he see her ever again. And he wanders now through all the land of Britain, seeking for the comfort that he cannot find, wandering in minstrel’s garb and singing, ever singing the song of his love.
“Iseult of the emerald isle,
Still I seek you, mile on mile
Through the wide world following
Love – a white bird on the wing.
Iseult, though the world wax old,
Never shall our love grow cold:
Still while youth and Spring are sure
Lives our love and shall endure.
“Iseult, in the after-time
Poets still shall fit their rhyme,
Tell of love beyond compare:
Tristram and Iseult the Fair.”‘
The minstrel ceased from his tale, and a great silence was over all who sat in the great hall at Camelot. Only Launcelot bowed his head in his hands, and the tears ran between his fingers as he thought of his own love for Guinevere – for King Arthur’s queen.
‘Minstrel,’ said King Arthur presently. ‘How comes it that you know so well all things that have befallen Sir Tristram of Lyonesse?’
The minstrel smiled sadly as he rose from the stool and stood, tall and noble to behold, before King Arthur.
‘I knew it well,’ he said. ‘Right well indeed – even as a man knows his own sorrow … For I am Tristram of Lyonesse!’
There was a little murmur through the hall at this, of wonder and of pity. But King Arthur rose from his seat and came down to Tristram and greeted him.
‘Right welcome are you to Camelot,’ he cried. ‘Welcome indeed to me and to all this fellowship of the Round Table. Your name was spoken to us by Merlin the wise enchanter on the day of the making of the Table – and see! There is a seat at it for you. Yonder siege beside Launcelot, where your name grows even now in letters of gold. Welcome, true knight of Logres!’
And so Sir Tristram became a Knight of the Round Table, and, after Launcelot and Gawain, there was no knight so worthy to sit there as he. For many years he came on every Feast of Pentecost to take his place at the board; and many were the mighty deeds which he wrought for Logres. But always he sorrowed for the love of Iseult the Fair, with a love and with a sorrow that no time might heal.
After some years he was married to another Iseult, daughter of Jovelin the Duke of Arundel, who was called Iseult of the White Hands; and she brought him much comfort, and he was a true and noble husband to her. Yet ever his heart turned towards Iseult the Queen of Cornwall; wherefore Iseult of the White Hands was jealous at heart.
At the last Tristram was wounded with a poisoned spear as he fought to save Kahedin his wife’s brother; and the wound festered and might not be cured.
Then Tristram said: ‘My death is upon me, unless Iseult of Cornwall comes to my aid: for she alone has all the skill which was her mother’s.’
So he bade the faithful Kurwenal take ship and sail to Tintagel to beg Iseult to come and cure him. And if she would come, Kurwenal was to hoist a white sail on his ship as he returned: but a black sail if she would not come.
Iseult of Cornwall came with all the speed she might, and Kurwenal hoisted the wh
ite sail. But Tristram lay upon his bed, so weak that he could not rise and look out from his window. Then he said to his wife:
‘Go now and look out to sea: Kurwenal’s ship will soon be nearing the land, with Iseult the Fair aboard, should the sail be white. But there will be a black sail if she will not come.’
Then Iseult of the White Hands looked out over the sea, and saw the ship of Kurwenal flying over the waves with all its white sails set. But in her jealousy and her hatred for Iseult of Cornwall, she said to Tristram:
‘Lo now, I see Kurwenal’s ship sailing heavily through the waves. And the sails are all black …’
Then Tristram turned his face to the wall: ‘God keep you, my love Iseult the Fair,’ he said, ‘for I shall not look upon your face again.’ Then he ceased to struggle for his life, and in a few minutes Tristram of Lyonesse was dead.
And when Iseult the Fair, Queen of Cornwall, found him dead she knelt at his side until her heart broke for very sorrow, and she died also. And they were buried in one grave, for Iseult of the White Hands repented of her jealousy when it was too late.
And over the grave she planted two rose trees, one red and one white; and as they grew the two trees leant over the grave towards one another, and their branches twined together, and they grew into one tree bearing roses both red and white. For never in all the world have there been two such faithful lovers as Sir Tristram of Lyonesse and Iseult the Fair.
5
Geraint and Enid
Although the high Feast of Pentecost was held ever by King Arthur at Camelot where the great Round Table stood in the castle hall, he would often hold court upon other feast days in other places with as many of his knights as chanced to be in the neighbourhood. Sometimes he held it at Cardiff and sometimes at Colchester or Carlisle, once even it was at Chester and once at Cardigan; but the most usual place was at Caerleon in South Wales, in the castle from which he had first come forth as the true King of the Realm of Logres.
King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table Page 13
