PART IV
How Tristan Found Iseult of the White Hands and How Love and Death at Last Were Mixed
Now we return to the story of Tristan. We find him where we left him, wandering in far lands. Quitting Iseult and the land of Cornwall, “Tristan fled his sorrow through seas and islands and many lands.” Without Iseult life was empty, a living death, and he longed for the death that would release his sorrow. Yet he clung to her memory, nourished his sorrow as though it were life itself, and refused all other women. He wandered afar in wars and adventures, ever driven, ever homeless.
“I am weary, and my deeds profit me nothing; my lady is far off and I shall never see her again. Or why for two years has she made no sign, or why has she sent no messenger to find me as I wandered? But in Tintagel Mark honors her and she gives him joy…. I in my turn, shall I never forget her who forgets me? Will I never find someone to heal me of my unhappiness?”
Tristan did not know it, but heaven soon would send an answer to his question.
Tristan rode into Brittany, and there he saw a grievous sight, for the land was wasted, the towns deserted, and the farms burned. A hermit told him, “Good knight, our King Hoël is trapped at his castle of Carhaix, besieged by his vassal, Count Riol of Nantes. And that traitor Riol lays waste the land.” Then Tristan rode to the walls of Carhaix and called out to the King, “I am Tristan, King of Lyonesse, and Mark of Cornwall is my uncle. Since your vassal does you wrong, I come to offer my arms.”
Now the King would not take Tristan in, for there was little food left in Carhaix, their cause was hopeless, and bitter defeat was not far off. But the King’s young son, Kaherdin, said: “My father, this is a goodly knight. Let him in, since he is so brave, that he may share our fortunes and misfortunes.”
Kaherdin received Tristan with honor, and treated him as friend and brother, and he showed him all the castle and its devices and dungeons. So, holding each other’s hands, they came into the women’s room where Kaherdin’s mother and sister sat together, weaving gold upon English cloth and singing a weaving song. And Tristan bowed to them. Then Kaherdin said: “See, friend Tristan, how my sister’s hands run thread of gold upon this cloth. Of right, sister, are you called ‘Iseult of the White Hands.’”
But Tristan, hearing her name, was startled. He smiled and looked at her most gently.
Now the traitor, Count Riol, was camped with a great army three miles from Carhaix. At night the fires of his camps could be seen, and he surrounded and starved the castle. But from that day, Tristan and Kaherdin rode out to sortie every day with a few faithful knights. By stealth and daring they ambushed the enemy and always brought back booty: wagonloads of food and arms. Hope rekindled in Carhaix, and King Hoël’s men fought with more spirit. Rumor spread among Riol’s troops of two invincible knights who fought always side by side, and the traitor was troubled.
Kaherdin rode to battle by Tristan’s side, and they stood their ground together. Each watched over the other and rode quickly to his aid. They returned happy from combats, talking of chivalry, noble deeds, love, and adventure. So a deep love grew between them, and they were closer than brothers, and they kept faith and tenderness, as history tells. Always, as Kaherdin rode with Tristan, he praised his sister, Iseult, to him for her beauty, her goodness, and her simplicity.
One day Count Riol assaulted Carhaix in force, with a great army and siege machines. But Tristan and Kaherdin led their knights out in daring attack before the walls. Tristan rode straight at Count Riol and fought him sword to sword, man to man, until Riol, his helmet split by Tristan’s sword, cried mercy. Riol surrendered and called off his army; he entered Carhaix to beg mercy of King Hoël and there swore allegiance to the King.
Now when all this had passed, Kaherdin said to his father, “Sire, keep you Tristan. Let Tristan marry my sister, and be a son to you and a brother for me.” So the King took counsel and said to Tristan:
“Friend, you have won my love. Now take my daughter, Iseult of the White Hands, who comes of Kings and Queens, and of Dukes before them in blood. Take her, she is yours.”
And Tristan answered: “I will take her, Sire.”
For Tristan forgot his sorrows; Tristan was alive again. He loved Iseult of the White Hands, for her goodness and her beauty. He loved his brother, Kaherdin; he had high deeds to do, and a king to serve. And so he said, “I will take her, Sire.”
Lord Tristan married Iseult of the White Hands, Princess of Brittany, at the gate of the minster, and Iseult was joyful. Kaherdin’s heart overflowed, and all the people rejoiced.
But that night, as his valets undressed him, a green jasper ring fell off Tristan’s finger and clattered loudly on the stone floor. To Tristan’s ears that sound was as the pealing of the bells of doom. Tristan awakened; he gazed at the ring. He remembered Iseult the Fair, away in Cornwall. All at once, sorrow returned.
“Ah! Now does my heart tell me I have done wrong. It was in the forest that you gave me this ring, where you suffered hardship for my sake. How wrong was I to ever accuse you of treason, Iseult the Fair, for now have I betrayed you! I have married another. And now what pity I feel for my wife, for her trust and her simple heart. See how these two Iseults have met me in an evil hour! and to each I have broken faith!”
In the bridal bed, Tristan lay quiet and cold as a stone and could not bring himself to touch his new wife. Finally she asked, “My lord, in what have I angered you, or in what done amiss, that I deserve not even a kiss of my husband?”
Then Tristan made a story. He said that once, on his deathbed from a dragon wound, he swore a holy oath to the Mother of God: If she healed him he would, should he marry, neither kiss his bride nor take his pleasure of her for one year. He said, “I must keep my vow, or risk the anger of God Almighty.” Iseult agreed, but the next day, when the servants placed the wimple of a married woman on her head, she sighed sadly to herself and thought how little in fact she deserved to wear it. And Tristan grew ever more quiet and mourned for Iseult the Fair and stared at the green jasper ring on his hand.
As time passed, Iseult of the White Hands could not keep the secret from Kaherdin, her brother. He learned the truth: Tristan had never made her the true wife of his body. Now, Kaherdin was first amazed, and then wrathful. He rode to Tristan and said:
“Though you be my most beloved friend and brother, I can not let this humiliation pass. Now you must either make my sister your wife in truth or know that I challenge you and by arms will I acquit my sister of this dishonor.” Then Tristan told Kaherdin what he had told no other man save Ogrin the Hermit. He told him of the quest for Iseult the Fair, how they drank the love potion on the high seas, of the pain and longing that wracked his mind and body through days and nights, of the time in the Forest of Morois, of the lepers and the stake, the vows exchanged, the green jasper ring. “Now I know that without Iseult the Fair I can neither live nor die, and the life I lead is a living death.”
As Kaherdin listened he could not hold onto his anger. Finally, in pity he said, “Friend Tristan, God save any man from the sorrows you have borne! I will consider all this for three days, and then tell you my judgment in the matter.”
When three days had passed, Kaherdin said to Tristan:
“Friend, I have taken counsel in my heart. Yes, you have told me the truth, the life you live in this land is frenzy and madness, and no good can come of it for either you or my sister, Iseult of the White Hands. Hear what I propose. We will travel together to Tintagel; you will see the Queen and learn whether she still regrets you and is faithful to you. If she has forgotten you, then perhaps you will hold in greater fondness my sister Iseult, the gentle-hearted, the simple. I will follow you: am I not your peer and your comrade?”
“Brother,” said Tristan, “well has it been spoken: ‘The heart of a man is worth all the gold in a country.’”
Kaherdin and Tristan disguised themselves as pilgrims and sailed across to Cornwall. Tristan sent the green jasper ring to Iseult with a message that she meet him. But Iseult the Fair was in a quandary: She had heard the news of Tristan’s marriage to Iseult of the White Hands. She believed that Tristan had betrayed her, preferred another woman to her. Yet she had promised! …What should she do? She arranged to meet Tristan; but then she heard more rumors of betrayal. Finally, when Tristan came to her, disguised as a beggar, she told her valets to beat him and drive him away. So Tristan left in sorrow and sailed with Kaherdin to Brittany. But Iseult, hearing that Tristan left in despair, knew that she must have been wrong. Weeping bitterly, she spent the long nights and days in penance and remorse.
In Carhaix Tristan languished; neither his wife nor adventures nor the hunt nor life itself held any charm for him. Finally he said, “I must return to see her, for rather would I die seeing her one more time than die here of longing for her. Who lives in sorrow is like a man dead already, and I would that I might die, but that the Queen might know that it was for love of her that I die. If only I might know that she suffered for me even as I suffer for her!”
Tristan dressed again as a pilgrim and, without telling Kaherdin, made his way back to Tintagel. He rubbed his face with mud and pretended to be a clown, a fool, a crazed traveling jester. Coming before King Mark’s Court, he called out to the King: “Give to me the Queen Iseult, and I will hold her and serve you for her love.”
Laughing, the King asked, “And where would you take her, O Fool?”
“Oh! very high, between the clouds and heaven, into a fair chamber glazed. The beams of the sun shine through it, yet the winds do not trouble it at all There would I bear the Queen into that crystal chamber of mine, all compact of roses and the morning.”
Playing the madman, Tristan later made his way into the Queen’s chambers and showed her the green jasper ring. At first suspicious, she finally recognized him and fell into his arms. Crazed with desire, he returned again and again for three days to have his fill with her, until the guards grew so suspicious that he knew he must leave or be caught.
“Friend, I must fly, for they are wondering. I must fly, and perhaps shall never see you more. My death is near, and far from you my death will come of desire.”
“O friend,” she said, “fold your arms round me close and strain me so that our hearts may break and our souls go free at last. Take me to that happy place of which you told me long ago. The fields whence none return, but where great singers sing their songs forever. Take me now.”
“I will take you to the Happy Palace of the Living, Queen! The time is near. When it is finished, if I call you, will you come, my friend?”
“Friend,” said she, “call me and you know that I shall come.”
With that prophecy of death Tristan rushed away, and Iseult never saw him again as living man.
Tristan returned to Carhaix, but still he refused to touch his wife, and never did human happiness light his eyes or joy show in his face. After a time he rode to the aid of Kaherdin, who did battle with an enemy baron. They were ambushed, and though Kaherdin and Tristan slew all seven knights who beset them, Tristan was pierced with a poisoned spear. For the last time in his life, Tristan fell with deadly poison in his veins, and neither doctor nor magician could find the cure. But Tristan called Kaherdin to him and said:
“Brother, for me there is no cure. Take you this green jasper ring and go to Iseult the Fair. Show it her, and tell her if she does not come I die; say she must come for we drank our death together and to remember the oath I swore to serve a single love, for I have kept that oath.”
Now this was the signal they agreed on: If Kaherdin returned with Iseult the Fair he should show a white sail, but if she refused to come, then a black sail.
“Fair comrade, do not weep,” said Kaherdin, “for I will do what you desire.”
But Iseult of the White Hands listened at the door and almost fainted at what she heard. For the first time she understood why her husband had so rejected her. From that day on, though she made no sign, she only meditated bitterly on her revenge—revenge against Iseult the Fair, who had robbed her of both husband and earthly happiness.
Kaherdin took a ship and sailed straight to Tintagel with fair winds following. He came to the King’s court as a merchant and, showing the queen his wares, put before her a green jasper ring. Then he whispered Tristan’s message. Straightaway the Queen quit the castle and secretly boarded Kaherdin’s ship; the ship sailed at the tide, and Iseult watched the bow cut through foamy waves, and her gaze was ever toward Carhaix.
Tristan was so weak he could no longer watch on the sea cliffs by Carhaix. But each day, as he lay on his pallet, he asked of his wife if she saw the ship returning. Until one day she looked to sea and saw the ship, its white sail billowing before the wind. Then, in the bitterness of her heart, she took her revenge. Coming to her husband, she said:
“My lord, the ship is in sight.”
“And the sail,” asked Tristan, “what is the manner of the sail?”
“Why, for its color,” she said, “it is black.”
Tristan turned to the wall.
“I can not keep this life of mine any longer,” he said.
Then he said slowly, “Iseult, my friend.” He repeated it slowly four times, and on the fourth time he died.
But at sea the wind rose; it struck the sail fair and drove the ship to shore, and Iseult the Fair set foot upon the land. She heard loud mourning in the streets and the tolling of bells in the minsters and the chapel towers; she asked the people the meaning of the knell and of their tears. An old man said to her:
“Lady, we suffer a great grief. Tristan, that was so loyal and so right, is dead. It is the chief evil that has ever fallen on this land.”
She went up to the palace, following the way, and her cloak was random and wild. The Bretons marveled as she went; nor had they ever seen woman of such a beauty, and they said:
“Who is she, or whence does she come?”
Near Tristan, Iseult of the White Hands crouched, maddened at the evil she had done, and calling and lamenting over the dead man. The other Iseult came in and said to her:
“Lady, rise and let me come by him; I have more reason to mourn him than you—believe me.”
And when she had turned to the east and prayed God, she moved the body a little and lay down by Tristan, beside her friend. She kissed his mouth and his face, and clasped him closely; and so gave up her soul, and died beside him of grief for her lover.
When word came to King Mark, he crossed the sea and brought them home to Cornwall and made them each a fine tomb, to the left and right of a chantry. One night a briar bush sprang from Tristan’s tomb. Strong were its branches, green its leaves, and fragrant its flowers. Quickly it climbed over the chantry and descended to root close by Iseult’s tomb. And for many lives of men it endured, strong and lovely and fragrant.