Chapter 9

After a year and a day he returned to the court of King Mark and lived there, and all the knights and ladies admired him, and the praise of his courtesy was in the mouths of all, noble and simple, high and low. Then King Mark his uncle began to hate him for the love that all bore him, and since he had never married and had no son to whom his kingdom should go after his death, he saw that Sir Tristram would have it, for he was his next kin, and then, with Lyones and Tintagel, the fame and power of Tristram would increase abundantly.

So the king began to cast about in his mind for a way whereby he might do some hurt to Sir Tristram, or even destroy him.

He called the young knight to him one day and said:

'Dear nephew, I have been thinking a long while of taking unto myself a wife, and I hear much of the beauty and goodness of the king's daughter of Ireland, whom men call La Belle Isoude. Now I would that you go to the king and bear my message to him.'

Sir Tristram was troubled in mind at these words. Since he had left La Belle Isoude he had had no ease of spirit, for now he knew that he loved her. Though she had been angered with him for his slaying her uncle, and he knew that the queen and other kinsfolk of Sir Marhaus would surely slay him if they could, yet had he hoped in a while to have gone to King Anguish and found some way to win Isoude for his wife.

'Ye are feared to go, then?' sneered King Mark, noting the silence of Sir Tristram. 'Then I will e'en send some other knight that is bolder.'

At that Sir Tristram flushed hotly and said:

'I fear not to go there or anywhere, and I will bear thy message, sir.'

'It is well,' said the king. 'I will send thee with a fine ship, and a rich company of knights, and I will get my scrivener to write my message.'

Now King Mark said all this by reason of his craft and treachery. He had heard how Sir Tristram had been full of the praises of La Belle Isoude, while yet, as he had learned, Sir Tristram had not promised himself in love to her. By his crafty speech King Mark had hoped to make Sir Tristram promise to go to Ireland to obtain her, not for himself, but for King Mark. So, therefore, if the king married La Belle Isoude, this would cause some grief and hurt to Sir Tristram.

But King Mark cared not overmuch whether he wedded La Belle Isoude or not. He believed that Sir Tristram would of a surety be slain by the kin of Sir Marhaus in Ireland, and, if so, King Mark's plot would succeed to the full.

Sir Tristram, sad and troubled, went apart, and rode into a forest, for now he knew that he had done himself an ill turn. The lady he loved and whom he wanted to wife for himself he had now promised to woo for another.

As he rode moodily through the forest drive, a knight came swiftly riding on a great horse, its flanks flecked with the foam of its speed.

'Fair knight,' said the stranger, 'will ye of your courtesy tell me where I may quickly come at a knight called Sir Tristram of Lyones?'

'I am he,' said Tristram. 'What would ye?'

'I thank Heaven that hath led me to you, sir knight,' said the other. 'Here is a message from my master, King Anguish of Ireland, who is in dire peril of honour and life, and craves aid of you for the love that hath been atween you.'

Sir Tristram, much marvelling, took the parchment and read: 'These to you, Sir Tristram of Lyones, most noble knight, from his lover and friend King Anguish of Ireland, in sore trouble and straits at Camelot. Know ye, Sir Tristram, that I have been summoned to King Arthur's court on pain of forfeiture of his lordship's royal grace, to answer a charge whereof I knew naught till I came here. Which is that by treason and felony I caused to be slain at my court in Ireland a cousin of Sir Bleobaris de Ganis and Sir Blamor de Ganis, and of this evil deed these knights do most falsely accuse me. And there is none other remedy than for me to answer them in knightly fashion, my armed body against theirs. But inasmuch as I am old, and my wasted arm could naught avail me, and in that they are of such renown and prowess that none of my knights may hope to overcome them, I pray ye, Sir Tristram, of your ancient love for me, to come to my aid and fight for me as my champion in this most cruel charge. But if ye will not, and if ye choose to remember rather that I thrust you from my court, and would not protect you against those that meant you ill, then forgive my request, and leave me to my fate and my dishonour.'

The heart of Sir Tristram lifted within him for love of the good old king, and turning, he said:

'For what day is the trial by combat which your master speaketh of?'

'For midday on the day before next Sabbath,' said the knight.

'Go ye at once to your master,' said Sir Tristram, 'and say to him that I will not fail him, but will make all speed.'

'Sir, I thank you from my heart,' said the knight, and bowed. Then wheeling his horse he dashed swiftly away.

At Camelot, on the day and hour appointed, the lists were set, and knights and nobles and the common people waited to see the trial by battle which should prove the innocence or guilt of King Anguish. King Arthur was not at Camelot, nor was Sir Lancelot, for both were at Joyous Gard, the castle of Sir Lancelot, which King Arthur had given to him by the sea in the Northern Marches. In their places, King Kador of Cornwall and King Uriens of Reged were judges at the trial.

Ere noon was marked by the gnomon of the dial set up before the judges, Sir Tristram and his squire Governale rode up the lists, and were met by King Anguish and his knights. When Sir Tristram saw the King of Ireland he got swiftly from his horse and ran towards him, and would have held his stirrup; but the king leapt lightly from his horse, and with bright looks each embraced and kissed the other.

'My good lord,' cried Tristram, 'gramercy of your goodness which ye showed me in your marches, and of your nobleness in calling me unto your aid, for it is great honour to me that ye ask this, and I will do all for you to the utmost of my strength.'

'Ah, worshipful knight,' said the king, 'ye are courteous and noble beyond all others to come to my aid when I am in such dire need.'

'Who is he that is appointed to fight with you or your champion?' asked Sir Tristram.

'He is of Sir Lancelot's blood,' replied the king, 'and I wot that he will be hard to overcome, for all those of King Ban's kin are passing good fighters beyond all others. It is Sir Blamor de Ganis, a great warrior.'

'Sir,' said Sir Tristram, 'for the great goodness that ye showed to me in Ireland and for your daughter's sake, La Belle Isoude, I will take the battle in hand for you. But ye must first swear that ye never caused or consented to the death of the knight of which you are charged, and if I avail in your battle I will crave a boon of you which you shall grant me.'

'I swear to Heaven,' replied the king, 'that I did neither cause nor consent to the death of the knight; and as to the boon that ye shall ask, I grant it you already.'

Then King Anguish departed to the judges and cried unto them the name of his champion, and all the knights of the Round Table that were there, and the common people, were all agog to see Sir Tristram. The fame of his fight with Sir Marhaus, and his renown as a harpist and a lover of hunting, were well known unto all; but never yet had he come to the court of King Arthur.

Sir Blamor and Sir Tristram went to each end of the lists and dressed their harness and their shields. Sir Bleobaris, that was brother to Sir Blamor, went to him and said:

'Brother, now remember of what kin ye be, and what manner of man is our lord, Sir Lancelot, and see that ye suffer not shame. For never would Sir Lancelot bear it, and he would sooner suffer death.'

'Have no doubt of me,' said Sir Blamor, 'I shall never shame Sir Lancelot nor any of our high blood; nevertheless, this Sir Tristram is a passing good fighter, and if by ill hap he strike me down, then he shall slay me and so end my shame.'

'God speed you well,' said Sir Bleobaris, 'but he may not be so great a warrior as fame saith. For fame grows false as she goes further.'

When the knights were ready, the herald of the court of Arthur stood with his trumpet and recited the cause of the quarrel and the names of the knights about to do battle. Then, lifting his tabard, he bade both knights make ready; and when his tabard fell to the ground, the knights lowered their lances in the rests, set spurs to their horses, and thundered down the lists. With a clang and a crash they met midway, and then men marvelled as they saw how suddenly Sir Blamor's horse reared in mid-career, turned right round, and upsetting its rider over its back, fell to the ground. Sir Blamor, however, was unhurt, and quickly rising to his feet he drew out his sword, crying to Sir Tristram, as that knight turned his horse and came towards him:

'Alight thee, Sir Tristram, for though this mare's son of mine hath failed me, I trust my good sword shall not fail me.'

With that Sir Tristram alighted and dressed him to battle, and there they lashed at each other with mighty strokes on both sides, cutting and hacking, feinting and guarding, so that as time went on and still they fought fiercely, the kings and knights marvelled that they were so great-winded and strong.

Soon men saw that Sir Blamor was headstrong, and mad with rage, while Sir Tristram beat not so many false blows, but each was sure, though slower. Yet Sir Blamor would not rest, but like a wild man would ever dash against his enemy. Where they fought the trampled sand was stained with red from their wounds.

Suddenly men saw Sir Blamor make a heavy stroke which Sir Tristram avoided, and ere the other could recover, Sir Tristram's sword descended on his helm with so great a stroke that Sir Blamor fell upon his side. Sir Tristram leaped upon him and placed the point of his sword between the bars of Sir Blamor's vizor, bidding him yield.

When Sir Blamor got his breath he panted forth:

'Nay, nay, Sir Tristram, I will not say the word, but I require thee, Sir Tristram de Lyones, as thou art a noble knight and the mightiest that ever I found, that thou wilt slay me out of hand, for now I would not live to be made lord of these lands of Britain. Liefer I would die than live a life of shame, and therefore slay me! slay me!'

Sir Tristram started back, remembering of what noble blood was this brave knight. Knowing that he must either make Sir Blamor say the loth words 'I yield,' or else slay him, he went to where the judges sat, and kneeled before them and told them what Sir Blamor had said.

'Fair lords,' Sir Tristram ended, 'it were shame and pity that this noble knight should be slain, for ye well hear that he will not say the words of shame, and if King Anguish, whose true knight and champion I am, will suffer me, I will neither shame nor slay so stout-hearted a knight.'

'By Heaven,' said King Anguish, 'I will be ruled for your sake, Sir Tristram, as ye are the most knight of prowess that ever I saw in my long life. Therefore I pray these kings and judges that they take the matter into their own hands.'

The judges called Sir Bleobaris to them and required his counsel.

'My lords,' he said, 'though that my brother be beaten of body by this valiant knight, he hath not beaten his heart, and so I thank God he hath not been shamed in this fight. And rather than he be shamed,' said Sir Bleobaris, white and stern, 'I require that you command Sir Tristram to slay him out of hand!'

'That shall not be,' said the judges, 'for neither King Anguish nor Sir Tristram desire to shame your valiant brother.'

'We do not,' said both the king and Sir Tristram.

Therewith, by the advice of the judges, Sir Tristram and Sir Bleobaris took up Sir Blamor; and the two brothers made peace with King Anguish and kissed each other and swore friendship with him for ever. Then Sir Blamor and Sir Tristram kissed, and the two brothers, their hands clasping those of Sir Tristram, swore that there should for ever be peace and love between them; and this did Sir Tristram swear also.

Inasmuch as, of his nobleness and generosity, Sir Tristram would not take Sir Blamor's life because he refused to yield him, Sir Lancelot and all his kinsmen loved Sir Tristram, and were ever his friends and spoke well and knightly of him.

Then King Anguish and Sir Tristram took their leave and sailed into Ireland with great joy; and when they had arrived there, the king let make a great cry throughout his dominions, of the manner in which Sir Tristram had fought for him, and how for that deed he accounted him the noblest knight among his friends, and that all should treat him with friendship and no deceit.

When, also, the queen and the kin of Sir Marhaus heard how Sir Tristram had borne himself in the trial by combat, they agreed that now they should not seek to slay him, since his great help in this matter had wiped out his ill-doing in the slaying of Sir Marhaus.

So the queen and the knights of the court and the common people made much of Sir Tristram wheresoever he went; but the joy that La Belle Isoude had in her heart no tongue may tell. When Sir Tristram was led to her and they met after so long an absence from each other, men saw the lovely face light up with so sweet and high a look that they marvelled at her beauty. Yet they saw how straitly Sir Tristram held himself, and made not much of his meeting with her and did not seek her company.

Then on a day King Anguish asked Sir Tristram what was the boon he craved.

'But whatever it be,' said the king, 'it is yours without fail.'

Sir Tristram's face went hard and white, and after a little while he said:

'It is this, my lord. I bear a request from my uncle, King Mark, and it is that you give him your daughter La Belle Isoude for his wife, and ye let me take her unto him, for so I have promised him.'

'Alas,' said the king, and looked full heavily into the eyes of Sir Tristram, 'I had liefer than all the land that I have that ye should wed her yourself.'

Sir Tristram turned away, and made this reply:

'I have given my promise, and I were ashamed for ever in the world if I did aught else. I require you to hold to your promise, and to let your daughter depart with me to be wedded to my uncle, King Mark.'

'As I have promised, so will I do,' said the king. 'But I let you know 'tis with a heavy heart.'

Nor would the king say more, knowing that he might make bad worse. But the surprise and grief of La Belle Isoude, when she knew that Sir Tristram was to take her to be wife not unto himself but to a stranger, what tongue may tell and what words may say? Nightly, on the days when she was being prepared to depart, she wept full sorely in the arms of her mother or of Bragwine her faithful gentlewoman; but in hall or abroad she was ever calm and cold, though pale.

The queen, her mother, feared much of this marriage, and so sent a swift message to a great witch who dwelled in a dark wet valley in the midst of the Purple Hills, and for much gold a potent philtre was prepared. Then, on the day when, with much weeping and many sad farewells, La Belle Isoude with her gentlewomen and many noble ladies and knights were to go into the ship, the queen called Bragwine aside, and giving her a little golden flasket, said to her:

'Take this with thee, Bragwine, for I misdoubt this marriage overmuch, and I charge thee do this. On the day that King Mark shall wed my daughter, do thou mix this drink in their wine in equal parts, and then I undertake that each shall love the other alone all the days of their lives.'

Anon Sir Tristram and La Belle Isoude took ship and got to sea. During the voyage Sir Tristram kept himself much with the other knights and rarely sat with Isoude; for in his heart was much grief, and he hated the fair wind that drove the ship more quickly to the time when he must give up La Belle Isoude to his uncle. He knew now that he loved none other woman in the world but her, and never would so long as he should live.

Bragwine the maid, seeing the pensive looks of her mistress, and knowing the wretchedness of her heart, determined to give her mistress what she most desired. By the aid of Governale, the squire of Sir Tristram, they poured the philtre into the wine of Isoude and Sir Tristram as they were about to sit at dinner.

They thought that the philtre being so potent, it would cause Sir Tristram to do as King Anguish wished that he would do, and take La Belle Isoude into his own home at Lyones and wed her himself.

Sir Tristram and La Belle Isoude sat at dinner and drank the wine. In a little while Sir Tristram looked at the wine that was in his silver cup and smelled at it.

'Sure this is the best wine that ever I drank,' said he, and smiled at her.

'It is truly a most sweet and noble drink,' said Isoude, and her heart was glad to see him smile, who hitherto had kept his face so stern.

Sir Tristram called his squire.

'Governale,' said he, 'what wine is this thou hast given us this day? Let us have another flask of the same.'

Governale was ever ill at a deception, and began to stammer.

'My lord,' he said, 'I fear me there is none other.'

'Ah,' said his master, 'and where got you that?'

'The gentlewoman of my Lady Isoude,' said he, 'brought it and bade me mix it in your lordship's wine.'

'What?' cried Sir Tristram, rising angrily. 'What means this? What trickery is this?'

'Oh, my lord, forgive me,' cried Governale. 'But we saw the sorrow of both your hearts, and we gave you the philtre that was meant for my lady and King Mark, and--and--my lord, you will break my lady's heart and your own if ye suffer this.' But Sir Tristram would hear no further, and fiercely sent his squire from his presence.

'Ah, my lord,' said La Belle Isoude, 'have those two poor souls done more evil than we are doing by hiding our hearts from each other? I would have you know that no ease shall you have all the days of your life, for I know that you love me, and as to that, there is no living man in all this world that I love as I love you. If ye think it unmaidenly in me to say that--then my own wretched heart forgives me.'

The gentle sorrow in her voice caused Sir Tristram's heart to swell with rage because he had promised to take her to wed King Mark.

'Lady,' he said, and his face was full pitiful and pale, 'Heaven knows that ye say right, and that nevermore shall I have ease after this. But no more should I have ease, but rather more shame and remorse, if I should do what my heart bids me do. I gave my promise to mine uncle, madman that I was, and I must perform it, and suffer. But I could slay myself to think that you will suffer also.'

She saw the rage and sorrow in his eyes, and her heart was full of pity.

'Do thyself no harm, O noble knight and friend,' said Isoude, 'for thou art right, and I wrong. But I would have you promise to be my knight and champion in things both ill and good, while you shall have life.'

'Lady,' he replied, 'I will be all the days of my life your knight, in weal and in woe, to come to your aid and battle for your dear name, when you shall send for me.'

Sir Tristram gave her a ring, and she gave him another, and quickly they parted, lest they should repent them of their duty.

That evening they got to shore, and landed at the foot of Tintagel, and Sir Tristram led up La Belle Isoude and gave her into the hands of King Mark, whose looks, for all that he tried to appear satisfied, were sour as he dwelt on the noble figure of Sir Tristram. Men noticed how pale and stern the young knight seemed, and that he said few words.

In a little while, after the wedding of his uncle to La Belle Isoude, Sir Tristram said farewell to all the court, 'for,' said he, 'he would go fight the pagans who were ravening in the north,' and so departed, with Governale his squire.

Afterwards, seeing the pale queen seated in hall beside King Mark, and remembering the heaviness of Sir Tristram, some guessed how full of woe was their parting, but for love and sorrow of Sir Tristram they said naught of what they thought.

VI

THE DEEDS OF SIR GERAINT

King Arthur was spending Whitsuntide at Caerleon-upon-Usk, and one day he hunted the stag in the forests that lay thereby. As he had given permission for his queen to go and see the hunting, she set out with one handmaiden, and rode in the misty dawning down to the river, and across the ford.

They climbed up the other bank, following the track of the men and horses which had formed the king's hunting party, until they stood on the edge of the dark forest, where the young leaves were fresh and sweetly green. The sun burst forth, and sucked up the mists along the meadow flats beside the river below them, and the water flashed and the birds sang.

'Here will we stay,' said the queen, who felt happy with the sunlight upon her, and the smell of the forest blowing out from the trees, 'and though we shall not see the killing, we shall hear the horns when they sound, and we shall hear the dogs when they are let loose and begin to cry so eagerly.'

Suddenly they heard a rushing sound and the thud of hoofs behind them, and, turning, they saw a young man upon a hunter foal of mighty size. The rider was a fair-haired handsome youth, of princely mien, yet withal kindly of look and smile. A riding-robe and surcoat of satin were upon him, low-cut shoes of soft leather were on his feet, and in his girdle was a golden-hilted sword. A fillet of gold bound his curly hair, and a collar of gold, with a blue enamel swastika pendant, hung about his neck.

He checked his horse as he neared the queen, and it came towards her with step stately, swift and proud, and the rider bowed full low to Gwenevere.

'Heaven prosper thee, Sir Geraint,' she said. 'And its welcome be unto thee.'

'Heaven accord you long life and happiness, O queen,' replied Geraint.

'Why didst thou not go with my lord to hunt?' asked the queen.

'Because I knew not when he went,' said Geraint. 'But men told me in hall that you had gone out alone, and I came to crave permission to accompany and guard you.'

'Gramercy,' said the queen. 'Thy protection is very agreeable to me.'

As they stood talking, they heard the clatter of steel armour, and looking between the trees, they beheld a proud knight upon a war-horse of great size, wearing a heavy chain-mail jesseraunt, with coif and vizored helm, and his horse was also clothed in harness of chain mail.

Following him was a lady upon a beautiful white horse, which went with stately and proud steps along the forest way. The lady was clothed in a great robe of gold brocade, and her headcloth, of fine cambric, was turned so that her face was hidden. Behind them rode a little dark man, hairy and fierce of face, dressed as a page; and he sat on a great horse, strong and spirited, yet the dwarf held it well in hand. Hung to his saddle-bow was the knight's shield, but the device was hidden by a cloth, and two lances were fixed to the girdle of the dwarf. In his right fist the page carried a whip, long and heavy and knotted.

'Sir Geraint,' said Gwenevere, 'knowest thou the name of that tall knight?'

'I know him not, lady,' said Geraint, 'and his helm conceals his face, and his shield is also hidden. But I will go and ask the page, that you may learn his name.'

And Sir Geraint rode up to the dwarfish page.

'Who is yonder knight?' said Sir Geraint.

'I will not tell thee,' replied the dwarf, and scowled.

'Then I will ask him himself,' said Sir Geraint.

'That thou wilt not, by my head,' said the dwarf angrily, 'for thou art not of honour enough to speak to my lord.'