Chapter 8

Late in the afternoon, as the king stood thus, gnawing his nails for rage, and so hot and wrathful that none of his barons dare speak to him, there came two horsemen riding swiftly into the courtyard of the castle, and at the sound of their horses' feet King Mark turned eagerly.

A young squire was the foremost rider, and he was a youth full handsome and tall, with brown curly hair and blue eyes. He was dressed in a surcoat of red satin and a mantle of crimson, trimmed with gold; and on his head was a cap of rich purple, and his feet and legs were clad in fine leather, with gold bosses on his shoes. Alighting easily, he doffed his hat and came towards the king:

'Sir,' said he, 'if ye will give me the order of knighthood, I shall do battle to the uttermost with Sir Marhaus of Ireland.'

King Mark looked the young man up and down, and saw that though he was young of age, yet he was passing well made of body, with broad shoulders and of big limbs. The heart of King Mark became light.

'Fair son,' he said, and his barons marvelled at his soft words, 'what are ye and whence come ye?'

'Sir,' said the youth, 'I come from King Talloch, Prince of Lyones, and I am a gentleman's son.'

'And your name and birthplace--what are they?'

'My name is Tristram, sir, and I was born in Lyones.'

'Young sir,' said the king, 'I like your manner, and I think ye should be a good man of your hands. Therefore will I make you knight if ye will fight with Sir Marhaus.'

'That is why I have come,' said Tristram.

Eagerly the king bade a baron give him his sword, and commanded Tristram to kneel, and then and there he tapped his shoulder with the flat of the sword and bade him rise, 'Sir Tristram of Lyones.'

The king commanded his scrivener to come to him, and on the low wall overlooking the sea the man of inkhorn and goosequill laid his parchment, and wrote a letter to Sir Marhaus at the king's dictation, saying that a knight would battle with him in the morning. A messenger was sent therewith without delay, and the king went into supper, snapping his fingers and joking with his barons in great glee.

But in the midst of supper a parchment was brought to the king and his face fell, and he commanded the new-made knight to come from his seat and stand before him.

'Hark ye,' he said, his face dark, 'this prideful Sir Marhaus, waiting so long, hath made his terms the harder. I fear, good fellow, your knighthood hath been earned of me too easily, even if ye are not in league with this pesky Irish knight,' he went on, his narrow eyes gleaming with suspicion. 'He sayeth now that he will not fight with any knight unless he be of blood royal on his mother's side or father's. Say, are ye some starveling knight's brat, or what are ye?'

Sir Tristram's face went hard and his eyes flashed.

'No starveling's brat am I, king,' he said, 'unless ye are that thyself.'

'What mean you? Have a care of your saucy tongue.'

'I fear thee not,' laughed Sir Tristram, 'but this I would have you know. I am thy nephew, son of thy sister Elizabeth, who died in the forest, and of King Talloch of Lyones.'

At these words the king rose from his seat and embraced Sir Tristram, crying:

'Now, in the name of Heaven, thou art right heartily welcome unto me, dear nephew.'

That evening he made great cheer of Sir Tristram, and had his bed made next to his own in his own royal chamber. On the morrow the king had Sir Tristram horsed and armed in the best manner. Then he sent a trumpeter down to the seashore, and let Sir Marhaus know that a better born man than he was himself would fight with him, and that his name was Sir Tristram of Lyones, son of the King of Lyones and his queen Elizabeth, King Mark's sister. Sir Marhaus was right blithe that he should have to do with such a gentleman.

Then it was ordained that the two knights should battle on a little island near the ship of Sir Marhaus, and so young Sir Tristram and his squire were rowed thereunto, and when he departed, King Mark and his barons and all the common people were rejoiced to see the young knight's noble and high bearing, and wished him Godspeed.

When Sir Tristram landed he saw Sir Marhaus waiting armed in the shadow of his ship. Sir Tristram's squire brought his master's horse to land, and clad his master in his armour as was right, and then the young knight mounted upon his horse and rode towards Sir Marhaus.

While he was as yet six spear-lengths from him the knight of the Round Table cried unto him:

'Young knight, Sir Tristram, what doest thou here? I grieve me of thy courage, for ye are untried, while I have been well essayed in jousts and tournaments with some of the best men of their hands as are now living. I counsel thee to go back.'

'Fair and well-proved knight,' said Sir Tristram, 'I am for thy sake made knight, and I have promised to fight thee, and I will do so, as much for mine uncle's sake as for what worship I may win from doing battle with ye, who are one of the best renowned knights of the world.'

'Then I would have ye know, fair sir,' said Sir Marhaus, 'that no worship shalt thou lose if thou canst only stand against three strokes of mine, for, by reason of my noble deeds, seen and proved, King Arthur made me knight of the Round Table.'

Sir Tristram answered him naught, and then they dressed their spears and spurred their horses, and ran so fiercely each against the other that both were smitten to the ground, both horses and men. But Sir Marhaus had struck a great wound in the side of Sir Tristram, yet so eager was the young knight that he knew not of it. They leaped up and avoided their horses, and drew out their swords, and with shield on arm they lashed at each other like fierce wild boars. Yet for all Sir Marhaus' strong and bitter strokes he could not beat down the young knight's guard, and in despite he began to aim at his vizor and his neck. At this Sir Tristram was wroth, and struck him more furiously. Thus for two hours the battle waged, and both were sore wounded. But Sir Tristram was the fresher and better winded and bigger of limb and reach; and suddenly he heaved his sword up high, and closing upon Sir Marhaus he smote him with so mighty a buffet upon his helm that the blade shore through the steel even into the brain-pan.

So fierce had been the stroke that the sword stuck fast in the bone and the helmet, and Sir Tristram pulled thrice at his sword before it would loosen. Sir Marhaus sank to his knees with a deathly groan; then he threw away his sword and shield, and rising, staggered away towards his ship. Sir Tristram swooned and fell; and his squire came running to him, just as the men of Sir Marhaus' ship came and drew their master on board. Then they swiftly set their sail and flew over the sea.

Great was the mourning of the barons and the people of Cornwall when it was known how deep and wide was the wound which Tristram had received from the lance of Sir Marhaus. Many famous leeches came and searched the wound and strove to close it, but none availed. When two months had passed, came an old, old woman, a witch wise in leechcraft beyond all others, who was called the Mother of the Mists, and who lived in the Great Shuddering Moor, where only trolls dwelled, and no man ever dared to go. She also came and searched his wound at the king's desire.

When she had made her search, with many mumblings and strange words, she turned and looked keenly at the king. Her eyes gleamed like beads, her skin was wrinkled and dark, and she laughed a little soft laugh.

'Lord king,' she said, 'this fine man's wound is poisoned, and naught can heal it this side the great water. But if he goeth whither the spear came from which poisoned it, he shall get whole of that wound.'

''Tis well,' said the king, 'he shall be sent to Ireland.'

'Ay, ay, ay,' said the old woman, and laughed in Sir Tristram's face. 'Thou shalt be healed, fair chief, but the hand that shall heal thee shall give thee a deeper wound--a wound that shall never be healed this side o' thy grave.'

Forthwith King Mark let a fair ship be purveyed and well stored with necessary victuals, and Sir Tristram was carried thereto and laid on his couch on the deck, and Governale, his faithful squire, went with him. In the sunshine and the brisk wind Sir Tristram felt joyful, and the merry waves slapped the sides of the ship full prettily as it cleaved through the blue seas towards the west.

In the evening they saw the white cliffs and the brown rocks of Ireland, and Sir Tristram took his harp and played thereon, for he had learned to harp most featly in France, where he had lived seven years, to learn all manner of courtly and noble pastimes. Soon the shipmen cast anchor in a wide sheltered cove beneath a castle which stood on a high rock beside a fair town.

Sir Tristram asked the master of the ship the name of that town.

'Cro-na-Shee, if it please you, my lord,' said the master.

'It pleases me well,' said Tristram; 'it should mean that there dwell therein brave and noble knights, and damsels like unto fairies.'

Out of the merriness of his heart he thrummed his harp with so blithe and strange a tune that in a little while the very folk upon the shore came listening, and some began to dance, while others looked sad. For though the tune was very merry, there was sadness also peeping from it.

It happened that King Anguish and his court were in that castle by the sea, and a handmaiden of the queen came to where they sat and told them of the knight that sat in his ship and harped so strange a lay that it made one glad and sorry at the same time.

Then King Anguish sent a knight and begged the harper to take cheer with him, and Sir Tristram was brought in a litter, and all the damsels were sad at his sickness, and the knights sorrowed that a knight so noble-looking should be so wounded. King Anguish asked him who he was and how he came by his wound. And Sir Tristram, having learned that this was the King of Ireland, whose champion he had worsted in the battle, and thinking that his own name would be known, replied:

'I am of the country of Lyones, and my name is Sir Tramor, and my wound was got in battle, as I fought for a lady's right.'

'I pity thee, sir knight,' said the king, who was a right noble king and lovable, 'and by Heaven's aid, ye shall have all the help in this country that ye may need.'

The king told him of the battle which Sir Marhaus had had on his behalf with a knight named Sir Tristram, and how Sir Marhaus had come home wounded unto death, and was dead this two months. On which Sir Tristram feigned to be sorry, but said not much thereon.

Then did the king order his daughter to come before him. She was called La Belle Isoude, for that she was the most lovely damsel in all Ireland and the Out-Isles, and withal gentle and kind; and her father bade her tend and minister to this stranger knight, who had come to Ireland to heal him of his wound.

In a few weeks, so soft was she of her hands and so learned in leechcraft, she had cleaned Tristram's wound of all poison and he was hale and strong again. As some reward he taught her to harp, and gave her many good and costly presents. These she took, but valued them not so much as his kind words and smiles. More and more she loved to hear his voice, and when he was gone out hawking or looking at jousts she was sad and thoughtful, sitting with her fair hands in her lap and her eyes looking far away, and when she heard his step or his voice in the hall, then would her sad eyes light up, and a merry tune would hum upon her lips, and she would gaily talk with her handmaidens, who, whispering and glancing and nodding to each other as they sat about her at their spinning frames, knew of her love for Sir Tristram before she was aware of it herself.

Sir Tristram cared not overmuch to be with ladies, but was more joyful to be in hall, talking of hunting, jousting and hawking. All men regarded him highly for his great knowledge of these things, but as yet, for fear of hurting his wound which was but freshly healed, La Belle Isoude forbade him gently to take violent exercise. Sir Tristram was impatient to be in the saddle again, with lance in rest and his great charger leaping beneath him.

Now, to the court of King Anguish there had lately come a knight named Sir Palomides, famed for his knightly deeds, though still a pagan, and he was well favoured both of King Anguish and his queen. Sir Palomides came and made great court to La Belle Isoude, and proffered her many gifts, for he loved her passing well. Indeed, for her sake he declared he would be christened and become a Christian knight; but La Belle Isoude had no care for him, and avoided him as well as she might.

On a certain day King Anguish made a great cry that a joust and tournament would be held, wherein only unmarried knights should join, and the prize would be a fair lady called the Lady of the Laundes, near cousin to the king. The heralds further said that he who should win her should marry her three days after, and have all her lands with her. This cry was made in all Ireland and Wales, and in Logres and Alban, which are now called England and Scotland.

It befell the same day that La Belle Isoude came to Sir Tristram, and she seemed distressed of mind and as if she had wept secretly.

'Sir Tramor,' she said, 'this tournament shall exalt Sir Palomides beyond all other knights, unless a better do come forward and overcome him.'

'Fair lady,' said Sir Tristram, 'Sir Palomides may well win the prize against any knight, except it be Sir Lancelot. But if ye think I am fit to joust I will e'en essay it. Yet he is a proved knight, and I but a young one and but lately ill; and my first battle that I fought, it mishapped me to be sore wounded. Yet I will essay it, for I love not this Sir Palomides.'

'Ah, but I know thou wilt do well in the battle, and thou shalt have all my prayers for thy safety and success,' said La Belle Isoude.

On the first day of the jousts Sir Palomides came with a black shield, and he was a knight big of his body and on a great horse. He overthrew many knights and put them to the worst, among them being many of the knights of the Round Table, as Sir Gawaine and his brother Sir Gaheris, Sir Agravaine, Sir Kay, Sir Sagramore le Desirous, Sir Owen, who had been the little page-boy who had saved King Arthur's life in his hall at Caerleon, and three other knights. All these he struck down, and the others were adread of him. The people had great marvel, and acclaimed him with much worship as the victor of the first day.

The next day he came and smote down King Morgant, the pagan King of Scotland, as also the Duke of Cambenet. Then, as he rode up and down the lists proudly flourishing his lance, dressing his shield and waiting for the other knights to offer themselves to him, he was aware of a knight all in white armour, with vizor closed, riding quickly through the gate as if he came from the seashore.

The stranger knight came with swiftness, lifting his lance in token of challenge. Whereat Sir Palomides rode to the other end of the lists, dressed his lance, and together they put their horses in motion. Like two bulls the knights thundered against each other in the centre of the lists. The white knight's lance hit the shield of Sir Palomides full in the centre, and with the shock the pagan knight was lifted from his saddle, carried beyond his horse, and fell with a great thud to the ground, while his horse careered onward riderless.

Sir Gawaine and his fellows marvelled who this stranger knight might be. Then Sir Palomides, rising from the ground, caught his horse, and full of shame, would have slunk from the field. But the white knight rode after him and bade him turn, 'for,' said the stranger, 'he would better prove him with the sword.'

Then, alighting, they lashed at each other with their swords. Now Sir Palomides was a powerful man, and his strokes were passing heavy, but Sir Tristram, for the stranger knight was he, felt so full of strength and joy after his long leisure, that he played with Sir Palomides, and men wondered at the might of his blows, and his swiftness was a marvel to see. In a while, with a great buffet on the head of the pagan knight, Sir Tristram felled him to the earth.

'Now yield thee,' said the white knight sternly, 'and do my command, or I will slay thee of a surety.'

Sir Palomides was sore adread, and promised.

'Swear me this,' said the stranger, 'that upon pain of thy life thou leave my lady La Belle Isoude, and come not unto her ever again, and for a year and a day thou shalt bear no armour. Promise me this, or here shalt thou die!'

'I swear it,' said Sir Palomides, 'but I am for ever shamed.'

In his rage Sir Palomides cut off his armour and threw it from him and fled away on his horse.

Then the white knight also went away, and none knew who he was. The king sent after him, to tell him he was the winner of the lady, whom he should wed, but the messengers could not find him. Men marvelled much at this, that the victor knight should not come to claim the rich lady for his wife with the wide lands that went with her.

When Sir Tristram returned to the private postern where La Belle Isoude had led him forth secretly, he found her standing breathless, and she was pale and red by turns, and could not speak at first.

'Thou--thou hast not failed?' she said, and clasped her hands.

'Nay,' said Sir Tristram, laughing. 'He will never trouble you again. And, by Our Lady, I wished there had been six of him, for I never felt more full of fight and strength than I do this day.'

'But--but have ye not claimed the prize?' said La Belle Isoude, and hid her face that was so deathly white.

'Nay, nor will I,' said Sir Tristram, 'for I crave not to be married. I would be free and go forth into strange lands to seek adventures.'

He went from her, with the tune of a hunting song upon his lips, and saw not how La Belle Isoude trembled against the wall and was near to swoon.

For La Belle Isoude herself was the Lady of the Laundes who should be given to the victor, though this was known to none but herself and the king and queen.

The king and queen and all the court marvelled who should be the stranger knight, and why he had departed, and some suspected Sir Tristram, but none knew of this except La Belle Isoude and Governale his squire, and none dared charge him therewith. La Belle Isoude kept her counsel, and strove to seem lighthearted.

It fell upon a day that Sir Tristram was disporting himself with other knights at a game of ball upon the green before the castle, and had left his sword hung upon the post beside his seat in hall. The queen, with La Belle Isoude, passed through the hall to go to see the men at their sport, and on her way she espied Sir Tristram's sword, and the strange device of a serpent which was upon the handle. She said it was a marvellous piece of work, and never had she seen the like of it. Then, by ill hap, she drew the sword from the scabbard, and they both admired it a long time, looking at its keenness and brightness and the words of mystery engraved on it.

Suddenly the queen gave a little cry as of terror, and she pointed to where, within a foot and a half of the point, there was a piece broken out of the edge. Then, very hastily, the queen ran with the sword into her bower, and from her treasure-chest she drew a casket, and from the casket she drew a tiny piece of doeskin, and from that she took a fragment of steel.

While her daughter marvelled what it all might mean, the queen took the piece of steel and placed it in the broken part of Sir Tristram's sword, and it fitted so that the break could hardly be seen.

'Alas!' said the queen, 'this is the piece of sword that the leech took from the brain of my brother, Sir Marhaus, and this Sir Tramor is the traitorous knight that slew him!'

The heart of La Belle Isoude stood still for fear of the ill that would befall Sir Tristram, for she knew her mother's rage.

The queen caught up the sword fiercely in her hand and rushed from the room. Midway through the hall there met her Sir Tristram himself with his squire Governale, and the queen sped to him and would have run him through, but for Governale, who snatched the sword from her, though she wounded him in her wrath.

Finding her rage thus put to naught, she ran to King Anguish, and threw herself on her knees before him, crying out:

'Oh, my lord and husband, here have ye in your house that traitor knight that slew my brother and your champion, that noble knight, Sir Marhaus. It is Sir Tramor, as he falsely calleth himself, but the piece of steel that was taken from my brother's brain fits a notch in his sword.'

'Alas,' cried King Anguish, 'then am I right heavy, for he is as full noble a knight as ever I knew; and I charge ye, have not to do with him, but let me deal in this matter.'

The king went to Sir Tristram and found him fully armed, as if ready to fight for his life, for he knew that now the truth had been discovered.

'Nay, Sir Tramor,' said the king gravely, 'it will not avail thee to fight me. But this will I do for the love and honour I bear thee. Inasmuch as ye are within my court it would be no worship for me to have thee taken and slain, and therefore will I let thee freely depart if thou wilt tell me this: Who is thy father and what is thy name? And didst thou truly and rightly slay Sir Marhaus?'

'Tristram is my name,' replied the young knight, 'and I am son of King Talloch of Lyones. For the truage of Cornwall I fought for the sake of my uncle King Mark, and the battle with Sir Marhaus was the first I had, for I was made knight for that alone. Sir Marhaus went from me alive into his ship, though he left his sword and shield behind him.'

'I may not say that ye have done aught but what a good knight should do,' replied the king, 'but I may not maintain you in this country unless I would displease my wife and her kin.'

'Sir,' said Sir Tristram, 'I thank you for your goodness and for the kind cheer which I have had here of yourself and your queen and La Belle Isoude. I will depart straightway when I have bidden your daughter farewell, for I owe my life to her gentle hands; and I promise this, that I will be your daughter's servant and knight in right or wrong, to shield her and fight for her, and do all that a knight may do in her behalf, as long as I live.'

Then took he his leave of La Belle Isoude, and he told her all how he had come to that land. He thanked her heartily for all her gentleness to him and for her healing of his wound. At first she stood silent, changing red and white of face, and with downcast eyes, her fingers straining about each other. When he swore that he would be her knight, to fight for her whenever she should send for him, and bade her good-bye, she took the hand which he held forth, but would not look at him.

Tristram wondered why her fair hand was so cold. 'Good-bye and God be with ye always,' La Belle Isoude replied in a faint voice, and then turned and went from him. Tristram thought she was angered with him for the slaying of her uncle.

So in a little while he rode forth with Governale down to the seashore and looked back not once. There he entered by a ship, and with good wind he arrived at Tintagel in Cornwall, and King Mark and all his barons were glad that Tristram was whole again.

Then Sir Tristram went to his father King Talloch, and there was made great cheer for him, and wide lands were given him. Nevertheless, he could not rest long in one place, but went into Logres and Alban and Wales, seeking adventures, and his fame for prowess was almost as great as the fame of Sir Lancelot. Whereever he went he took his harp, and in hall and bower his favourite songs were those that praised the beauty of La Belle Isoude, her gentle ways and her soft white hands.