The Romance Of Tristan And Iseult written by M. Joseph Bedier
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6 THE ROMANCE OF TRISTAN AND ISEULT
The Romance of Tristan & Iseult Drawn from the best French Sources and
Retold by J. Bedier Rendered into English by H. Belloc
London: George Allen & Company, Ltd. Ruskin House, Rathbone Place.
Mcmxiii
[All rights reserved]
"Le Roman de Tristan et Iseut," by M. Joseph Bedier, was crowned by
the French Academy
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & Co.
at the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh
CONTENTS
PART THE FIRST
The Childhood of Tristan
The Morholt out of Ireland
The Quest of the Lady with the Hair of Gold
The Philtre
The Tall Pine-Tree
The Discovery
The Chantry Leap
PART THE SECOND
The Wood of Morois
Ogrin the Hermit
The Ford
The Ordeal by Iron
PART THE THIRD
The Little Fairy Bell
Iseult of the White Hands
The Madness of Tristan
The Death of Tristan
PART THE FIRST
THE CHILDHOOD OF TRISTAN
My lords, if you would hear a high tale of love and of death, here is
that of Tristan and Queen Iseult; how to their full joy, but to their
sorrow also, they loved each other, and how at last they died of that
love together upon one day; she by him and he by her.
Long ago, when Mark was King over Cornwall, Rivalen, King of Lyonesse,
heard that Mark's enemies waged war on him; so he crossed the sea to
bring him aid; and so faithfully did he serve him with counsel and
sword that Mark gave him his sister Blanchefleur, whom King Rivalen
loved most marvellously.
He wedded her in Tintagel Minster, but hardly was she wed when the
news came to him that his old enemy Duke Morgan had fallen on Lyonesse
and was wasting town and field. Then Rivalen manned his ships in
haste, and took Blanchefleur with him to his far land; but she was
with child. He landed below his castle of Kanoel and gave the Queen in
ward to his Marshal Rohalt, and after that set off to wage his war.
Blanchefleur waited for him continually, but he did not come home,
till she learnt upon a day that Duke Morgan had killed him in foul
ambush. She did not weep: she made no cry or lamentation, but her
limbs failed her and grew weak, and her soul was filled with a strong
desire to be rid of the flesh, and though Rohalt tried to soothe her
she would not hear. Three days she awaited re-union with her lord, and
on the fourth she brought forth a son; and taking him in her arms she
said:
"Little son, I have longed a while to see you, and now I see you the
fairest thing ever a woman bore. In sadness came I hither, in sadness
did I bring forth, and in sadness has your first feast day gone. And
as by sadness you came into the world, your name shall be called
Tristan; that is the child of sadness."
After she had said these words she kissed him, and immediately when
she had kissed him she died.
Rohalt, the keeper of faith, took the child, but already Duke Morgan's
men besieged the Castle of Kanoel all round about. There is a wise
saying: "Fool-hardy was never hardy," and he was compelled to yield to
Duke Morgan at his mercy: but for fear that Morgan might slay
Rivalen's heir the Marshal hid him among his own sons.
When seven years were passed and the time had come to take the child
from the women, Rohalt put Tristan under a good master, the Squire
Gorvenal, and Gorvenal taught him in a few years the arts that go with
barony. He taught him the use of lance and sword and 'scutcheon and
bow, and how to cast stone quoits and to leap wide dykes also: and he
taught him to hate every lie and felony and to keep his given word;
and he taught him the various kinds of song and harp-playing, and the
hunter's craft; and when the child rode among the young squires you
would have said that he and his horse and his armour were all one
thing. To see him so noble and so proud, broad in the shoulders,
loyal, strong and right, all men glorified Rohalt in such a son. But
Rohalt remembering Rivalen and Blanchefleur (of whose youth and grace
all this was a resurrection) loved him indeed as a son, but in his
heart revered him as his lord.
Now all his joy was snatched from him on a day when certain merchants
of Norway, having lured Tristan to their ship, bore him off as a rich
prize, though Tristan fought hard, as a young wolf struggles, caught
in a gin. But it is a truth well proved, and every sailor knows it,
that the sea will hardly bear a felon ship, and gives no aid to
rapine. The sea rose and cast a dark storm round the ship and drove it
eight days and eight nights at random, till the mariners caught
through the mist a coast of awful cliffs and sea-ward rocks whereon
the sea would have ground their hull to pieces: then they did penance,
knowing that the anger of the sea came of the lad, whom they had
stolen in an evil hour, and they vowed his deliverance and got ready a
boat to put him, if it might be, ashore: then the wind, and sea fell
and the sky shone, and as the Norway ship grew small in the offing, a
quiet tide cast Tristan and the boat upon a beach of sand.
Painfully he climbed the cliff and saw, beyond, a lonely rolling heath
and a forest stretching out and endless. And he wept, remembering
Gorvenal, his father, and the land of Lyonesse. Then the distant cry
of a hunt, with horse and hound, came suddenly and lifted his heart,
and a tall stag broke cover at the forest edge. The pack and the hunt
streamed after it with a tumult of cries and winding horns, but just
as the hounds were racing clustered at the haunch, the quarry turned
to bay at a stones throw from Tristan; a huntsman gave him the thrust,
while all around the hunt had gathered and was winding the kill. But
Tristan, seeing by the gesture of the huntsman that he made to cut the
neck of the stag, cried out:
"My lord, what would you do? Is it fitting to cut up so noble a beast
like any farm-yard hog? Is that the custom of this country?"
And the huntsman answered:
"Fair friend, what startles you? Why yes, first I take off the head of
a stag, and then I cut it into four quarters and we carry it on our
saddle bows to King Mark, our lord: So do we, and so since the days of
the first huntsmen have done the Cornish men. If, however, you know of
some nobler custom, teach it us: take this knife and we will learn it
willingly."
Then Tristan kneeled and skinned the stag before he cut it up, and
quartered it all in order leaving the crow-bone all whole, as is meet,
and putting aside at the end the head, the haunch, the tongue and the
great heart's vein; and the huntsmen and the kennel hinds stood over
him with delight, and the Master Huntsman said:
"Friend, these are good ways. In what land learnt you them? Tell us
your country and your name."
"Good lord, my name is Tristan, and I learnt these ways in my country
of Lyonesse."
"Tristan," said the Master Huntsman, "God reward the father that
brought you up so nobly; doubtless he is a baron, rich and strong."
Now Tristan knew both speech and silence, and he answered:
"No, lord; my father is a burgess. I left his home unbeknownst upon a
ship that trafficked to a far place, for I wished to learn how men
lived in foreign lands. But if you will accept me of the hunt I will
follow you gladly and teach you other crafts of venery."
"Fair Tristan, I marvel there should be a land where a burgess's son
can know what a knight's son knows not elsewhere, but come with us
since you will it; and welcome: we will bring you to King Mark, our
lord."
Tristan completed his task; to the dogs he gave the heart, the head,
offal and ears; and he taught the hunt how the skinning and the
ordering should be done. Then he thrust the pieces upon pikes and gave
them to this huntsman and to that to carry, to one the snout to
another the haunch to another the flank to another the chine; and he
taught them how to ride by twos in rank, according to the dignity of
the pieces each might bear.
So they took the road and spoke together, till they came on a great
castle and round it fields and orchards, and living waters and fish
ponds and plough lands, and many ships were in its haven, for that
castle stood above the sea. It was well fenced against all assault or
engines of war, and its keep, which the giants had built long ago, was
compact of great stones, like a chess board of vert and azure.
And when Tristan asked its name:
"Good liege," they said, "we call it Tintagel."
And Tristan cried:
"Tintagel! Blessed be thou of God, and blessed be they that dwell
within thee."
(Therein, my lords, therein had Rivalen taken Blanchefleur to wife,
though their son knew it not.)
When they came before the keep the horns brought the barons to the
gates and King Mark himself. And when the Master Huntsman had told him
all the story, and King Mark had marvelled at the good order of the
cavalcade, and the cutting of the stag, and the high art of venery in
all, yet most he wondered at the stranger boy, and still gazed at him,
troubled and wondering whence came his tenderness, and his heart would
answer him nothing; but, my lords, it was blood that spoke, and the
love he had long since borne his sister Blanchefleur.
That evening, when the boards were cleared, a singer out of Wales, a
master, came forward among the barons in Hall and sang a harper's
song, and as this harper touched the strings of his harp, Tristan who
sat at the King's feet, spoke thus to him:
"Oh master, that is the first of songs! The Bretons of old wove it
once to chant the loves of Graelent. And the melody is rare and rare
are the words: master, your voice is subtle: harp us that well."
But when the Welshman had sung, he answered:
"Boy, what do you know of the craft of music? If the burgesses of
Lyonesse teach their sons harp--play also, and rotes and viols too,
rise, and take this harp and show your skill."
Then Tristan took the harp and sang so well that the barons softened
as they heard, and King Mark marvelled at the harper from Lyonesse
whither so long ago Rivalen had taken Blanchefleur away.
When the song ended, the King was silent a long space, but he said at
last:
"Son, blessed be the master that taught thee, and blessed be thou of
God: for God loves good singers. Their voices and the voice of the
harp enter the souls of men and wake dear memories and cause them to
forget many a mourning and many a sin. For our joy did you come to
this roof, stay near us a long time, friend."
And Tristan answered:
"Very willingly will I serve you, sire, as your harper, your huntsman
and your liege."
So did he, and for three years a mutual love grew up in their hearts.
By day Tristan followed King Mark at pleas and in saddle; by night he
slept in the royal room with the councillors and the peers, and if the
King was sad he would harp to him to soothe his care. The barons also
cherished him, and (as you shall learn) Dinas of Lidan, the seneschal,
beyond all others. And more tenderly than the barons and than Dinas
the King loved him. But Tristan could not forget, or Rohalt his
father, or his master Gorvenal, or the land of Lyonesse.
My lords, a teller that would please, should not stretch his tale too
long, and truly this tale is so various and so high that it needs no
straining. Then let me shortly tell how Rohalt himself, after long
wandering by sea and land, came into Cornwall, and found Tristan, and
showing the King the carbuncle that once was Blanchefleur's, said:
"King Mark, here is your nephew Tristan, son of your sister
Blanchefleur and of King Rivalen. Duke Morgan holds his land most
wrongfully; it is time such land came back to its lord."
And Tristan (in a word) when his uncle had armed him knight, crossed
the sea, and was hailed of his father's vassals, and killed Rivalen's
slayer and was re-seized of his land.
Then remembering how King Mark could no longer live in joy without
him, he summoned his council and his barons and said this:
"Lords of the Lyonesse, I have retaken this place and I have avenged
King Rivalen by the help of God and of you. But two men Rohalt and
King Mark of Cornwall nourished me, an orphan, and a wandering boy. So
should I call them also fathers. Now a free man has two things
thoroughly his own, his body and his land. To Rohalt then, here, I
will release my land. Do you hold it, father, and your son shall hold
it after you. But my body I give up to King Mark. I will leave this
country, dear though it be, and in Cornwall I will serve King Mark as
my lord. Such is my judgment, but you, my lords of Lyonesse, are my
lieges, and owe me counsel; if then, some one of you will counsel me
another thing let him rise and speak."
But all the barons praised him, though they wept; and taking with him
Gorvenal only, Tristan set sail for King Mark's land.
THE MORHOLT OUT OF IRELAND
When Tristan came back to that land, King Mark and all his Barony were
mourning; for the King of Ireland had manned a fleet to ravage
Cornwall, should King Mark refuse, as he had refused these fifteen
years, to pay a tribute his fathers had paid. Now that year this King
had sent to Tintagel, to carry his summons, a giant knight; the
Morholt, whose sister he had wed, and whom no man had yet been able to
overcome: so King Mark had summoned all the barons of his land to
Council, by letters sealed.
On the day assigned, when the barons were gathered in hall, and when
the King had taken his throne, the Morholt said these things:
"King Mark, hear for the last time the summons of the King of Ireland,
my lord. He arraigns you to pay at last that which you have owed so
long, and because you have refused it too long already he bids you
give over to me this day three hundred youths and three hundred
maidens drawn by lot from among the Cornish folk. But if so be that
any would prove by trial of combat that the King of Ireland receives
this tribute without right, I will take up his wager. Which among you,
my Cornish lords, will fight to redeem this land?"
The barons glanced at each other but all were silent.
Then Tristan knelt at the feet of King Mark and said:
"Lord King, by your leave I will do battle."
And in vain would King Mark have turned him from his purpose,
thinking, how could even valour save so young a knight? But he threw
down his gage to the Morholt, and the Morholt took up the gage.
On the appointed day he had himself clad for a great feat of arms in a
hauberk and in a steel helm, and he entered a boat and drew to the
islet of St. Samson's, where the knights were to fight each to each
alone. Now the Morholt had hoisted to his mast a sail of rich purple,
and coming fast to land, he moored his boat on the shore. But Tristan
pushed off his own boat adrift with his feet, and said:
"One of us only will go hence alive. One boat will serve."
And each rousing the other to the fray they passed into the isle.
No man saw the sharp combat; but thrice the salt sea-breeze had wafted
or seemed to waft a cry of fury to the land, when at last towards the
hour of noon the purple sail showed far off; the Irish boat appeared
from the island shore, and there rose a clamour of "the Morholt!" When
suddenly, as the boat grew larger on the sight and topped a wave, they
saw that Tristan stood on the prow holding a sword in his hand. He
leapt ashore, and as the mothers kissed the steel upon his feet he
cried to the Morholt's men:
"My lords of Ireland, the Morholt fought well. See here, my sword is
broken and a splinter of it stands fast in his head. Take you that
steel, my lords; it is the tribute of Cornwall."
Then he went up to Tintagel and as he went the people he had freed
waved green boughs, and rich cloths were hung at the windows. But when
Tristan reached the castle with joy, songs and joy-bells sounding
about him, he drooped in the arms of King Mark, for the blood ran from
his wounds.
The Morholt's men, they landed in Ireland quite cast down. For when
ever he came back into Whitehaven the Morholt had been wont to take
joy in the sight of his clan upon the shore, of the Queen his sister,
and of his niece Iseult the Fair. Tenderly had they cherished him of
old, and had he taken some wound, they healed him, for they were
skilled in balms and potions. But now their magic was vain, for he lay
dead and the splinter of the foreign brand yet stood in his skull till
Iseult plucked it out and shut it in a chest.
From that day Iseult the Fair knew and hated the name of Tristan of
Lyonesse.
But over in Tintagel Tristan languished, for there trickled a
poisonous blood from his wound. The doctors found that the Morholt had
thrust into him a poisoned barb, and as their potions and their
theriac could never heal him they left him in God's hands. So hateful
a stench came from his wound that all his dearest friends fled him,
all save King Mark, Gorvenal and Dinas of Lidan. They always could
stay near his couch because their love overcame their abhorrence. At
last Tristan had himself carried into a boat apart on the shore; and
lying facing the sea he awaited death, for he thought: "I must die;
but it is good to see the sun and my heart is still high. I would like
to try the sea that brings all chances. ... I would have the sea bear me
far off alone, to what land no matter, so that it heal me of my
wound."
He begged so long that King Mark accepted his desire. He bore him into
a boat with neither sail nor oar, and Tristan wished that his harp
only should be placed beside him: for sails he could not lift, nor oar
ply, nor sword wield; and as a seaman on some long voyage casts to the
sea a beloved companion dead, so Gorvenal pushed out to sea that boat
where his dear son lay; and the sea drew him away.
For seven days and seven nights the sea so drew him; at times to charm
his grief, he harped; and when at last the sea brought him near a
shore where fishermen had left their port that night to fish far out,
they heard as they rowed a sweet and strong and living tune that ran
above the sea, and feathering their oars they listened immovable.
In the first whiteness of the dawn they saw the boat at large: she
went at random and nothing seemed to live in her except the voice of
the harp. But as they neared, the air grew weaker and died; and when
they hailed her Tristan's hands had fallen lifeless on the strings
though they still trembled. The fishermen took him in and bore him
back to port, to their lady who was merciful and perhaps would heal
him.
It was that same port of Whitehaven where the Morholt lay, and their
lady was Iseult the Fair.
She alone, being skilled in philtres, could save Tristan, but she
alone wished him dead. When Tristan knew himself again (for her art
restored him) he knew himself to be in the land of peril. But he was
yet strong to hold his own and found good crafty words. He told a tale
of how he was a seer that had taken passage on a merchant ship and
sailed to Spain to learn the art of reading all the stars,--of how
pirates had boarded the ship and of how, though wounded, he had fled
into that boat. He was believed, nor did any of the Morholt's men know
his face again, so hardly had the poison used it. But when, after
forty days, Iseult of the Golden Hair had all but healed him, when
already his limbs had recovered and the grace of youth returned, he
knew that he must escape, and he fled and after many dangers he came
again before Mark the King.
THE QUEST OF THE LADY WITH THE HAIR OF GOLD
My lords, there were in the court of King Mark four barons the basest
of men, who hated Tristan with a hard hate, for his greatness and for
the tender love the King bore him. And well I know their names:
Andret, Guenelon, Gondoine and Denoalen. They knew that the King had
intent to grow old childless and to leave his land to Tristan; and
their envy swelled and by lies they angered the chief men of Cornwall
against Tristan. They said:
"There have been too many marvels in this man's life. It was marvel
enough that he beat the Morholt, but by what sorcery did he try the
sea alone at the point of death, or which of us, my lords, could
voyage without mast or sail? They say that warlocks can. It was sure a
warlock feat, and that is a warlock harp of his pours poison daily
into the King's heart. See how he has bent that heart by power and
chain of sorcery! He will be king yet, my lords, and you will hold
your lands of a wizard."
They brought over the greater part of the barons and these pressed
King Mark to take to wife some king's daughter who should give him an
heir, or else they threatened to return each man into his keep and
wage him war. But the King turned against them and swore in his heart
that so long as his dear nephew lived no king's daughter should come
to his bed. Then in his turn did Tristan (in his shame to be thought
to serve for hire) threaten that if the King did not yield to his
barons, he would himself go over sea serve some great king. At this,
King Mark made a term with his barons and gave them forty days to hear
his decision.
On the appointed day he waited alone in his chamber and sadly mused:
"Where shall I find a king's daughter so fair and yet so distant that
I may feign to wish her my wife?"
Just then by his window that looked upon the sea two building swallows
came in quarrelling together. Then, startled, they flew out, but had
let fall from their beaks a woman's hair, long and fine, and shining
like a beam of light.
King Mark took it, and called his barons and Tristan and said:
"To please you, lords, I will take a wife; but you must seek her whom
I have chosen."
"Fair lord, we wish it all," they said, "and who may she be?"
"Why," said he, "she whose hair this is; nor will I take another."
"And whence, lord King, comes this Hair of Gold; who brought it and
from what land?"
"It comes, my lords, from the Lady with the Hair of Gold, the swallows
brought it me. They know from what country it came."
Then the barons saw themselves mocked and cheated, and they turned
with sneers to Tristan, for they thought him to have counselled the
trick. But Tristan, when he had looked on the Hair of Gold, remembered
Iseult the Fair and smiled and said this:
"King Mark, can you not see that the doubts of these lords shame me?
You have designed in vain. I will go seek the Lady with the Hair of
Gold. The search is perilous: never the less, my uncle, I would once
more put my body and my life into peril for you; and that your barons
may know I love you loyally, I take this oath, to die on the adventure
or to bring back to this castle of Tintagel the Queen with that fair
hair."
He fitted out a great ship and loaded it with corn and wine, with
honey and all manner of good things; he manned it with Gorvenal and a
hundred young knights of high birth, chosen among the bravest, and he
clothed them in coats of home-spun and in hair cloth so that they
seemed merchants only: but under the deck he hid rich cloth of gold
and scarlet as for a great king's messengers.
When the ship had taken the sea the helmsman asked him:
"Lord, to what land shall I steer?"
"Sir," said he, "steer for Ireland, straight for Whitehaven harbour."
At first Tristan made believe to the men of Whitehaven that his
friends were merchants of England come peacefully to barter; but as
these strange merchants passed the day in the useless games of
draughts and chess, and seemed to know dice better than the bargain
price of corn, Tristan feared discovery and knew not how to pursue his
quest.
Now it chanced once upon the break of day that he heard a cry so
terrible that one would have called it a demon's cry; nor had he ever
heard a brute bellow in such wise, so awful and strange it seemed. He
called a woman who passed by the harbour, and said:
"Tell me, lady, whence comes that voice I have heard, and hide me
nothing."
"My lord," said she, "I will tell you truly. It is the roar of a
dragon the most terrible and dauntless upon earth. Daily it leaves its
den and stands at one of the gates of the city: Nor can any come out
or go in till a maiden has been given up to it; and when it has her in
its claws it devours her."
"Lady," said Tristan, "make no mock of me, but tell me straight: Can a
man born of woman kill this thing?"
"Fair sir, and gentle," she said, "I cannot say; but this is sure:
Twenty knights and tried have run the venture, because the King of
Ireland has published it that he will give his daughter, Iseult the
Fair, to whomsoever shall kill the beast; but it has devoured them
all."
Tristan left the woman and returning to his ship armed himself in
secret, and it was a fine sight to see so noble a charger and so good
a knight come out from such a merchant-hull: but the haven was empty
of folk, for the dawn had barely broken and none saw him as he rode to
the gate. And hardly had he passed it, when he met suddenly five men
at full gallop flying towards the town. Tristan seized one by his
hair, as he passed, and dragged him over his mount's crupper and held
him fast:
"God save you, my lord," said he, "and whence does the dragon come?"
And when the other had shown him by what road, he let him go.
As the monster neared, he showed the head of a bear and red eyes like
coals of fire and hairy tufted ears; lion's claws, a serpent's tail,
and a griffin's body.
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