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Authors: Thomas Berger

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BOOK: Arthur Rex
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“For their honeyed natures are too sweet, Brangwain,” said he, “for them to be properly imperious with the toads of standard humanity, the fealty of which is never freely given but must be taken by force.”

And so he talked to the loyal Brangwain as they went towards the royal bedchamber, and she had no means by which to detain him. And then they reached that place, and he went in jovially, and there he saw La Belle Isold and Sir Tristram together in the bed, and he finally knew the truth.

And what King Mark did first was not to make a sound except deep in his throat as if he were strangling, and indeed he fell onto the floor. And he was the king and therefore Brangwain attended to him, smiting his back for him to induce him to expel what he was gagging on. But then rolling him over she found that he had swallowed his tongue in his rage, and therefore she put her finger in his throat and pulled it out.

Now while this was happening Sir Tristram and Isold did leave the bed and taking up their clothes they departed through a privy passage behind the tapestries, and so did they flee the castle of Tintagel and go into the wild forests of Cornwall.

And when King Mark was revived he formed an army and he pursued the adulterers for many days and nights without halting, for he was inordinate in his anger. And every time he was ready to go back, another trace of them was found, a torn piece of clothing on a thornbush or the like, and he was thereby encouraged to press on, but never could he find them. But after many weeks of this vain pursuit he had need to return to Tintagel, for the treacherous Guenelon, who had at first accompanied the king, soon had stolen back and had seized the throne of Cornwall.

And Mark could get back into his own castle only after besieging it for a long time, and when he did he had Guenelon drawn and quartered.

Now Tristram and Isold did at length find a cave in the heart of the wilds, and there they made their home. But no sooner had they moved into this than the dragon returned, whose cave it was, and Sir Tristram had a great fight with him and was sore wounded, but he killed it finally. But there was nought to eat save berries and roots, for the dragon had long since eaten or frightened away all the game. And the wounds that Tristram had got in the fight did not heal but got worse.

And their clothes were in tatters, and they could not wash often, for there was only enough water from the rainfall to drink and to bathe his wounds, and of ponds and brooks there were none thereabout. And had any Christians seen them at this time, they would have seemed savage creatures, this pair who had been so comely once.

And Sir Tristram lay with his shaggy head in the lap of Isold, whose legs were bare and cut with thorns, and her hair was marvelously tangled and her eyes were all red from the smoking fire in the cave, which had no proper draught.

“Well, my love,” said he, “we are paying the wages of sin.”

But Isold, who was no longer La Belle, said, “My love, ’tis only a temporary inconvenience. At the least we are together and dissembling is no longer necessary. Truly we have some discomfort, but what of that, when nobody doth separate us one from the other?”

“But I am sore ill,” said Tristram, “and soon there will be not even any more roots to eat, and I am too weak to go to look for food.”

“Then shall I go,” said Isold, “for I am hale though uncombed and sans scents and fine clothes, and for the first time in my life (which began as a protected princess, after which I became a queen against my will) I may have some use. And I shall feed and heal the man I love!”

Saying the which she made for him a bed of soft moss, and then she went out of the cave with his sword, with which she cut a branch from an ash tree, and she made a bow of this and the laces from her bodice, and then she fashioned some arrows and hardened their points in fire, and taking these weapons she went deeper into the forest, where there were partridges and coneys, and these she killed and brought back and nourished Tristram, who was almost dead, on their blood. And she ate their flesh herself, and she made garments and blankets from their feathers and skins.

Then from the bark of trees she brewed potions and applied them to Tristram’s wounds, and gradually he grew better, and Isold was happier than she had ever been in all her life.

But at last Tristram was completely well, and so soon as he was he took back his sword from her, and he made a much stronger bow than hers, and he went farther afield to where the larger game roamed, and he killed a stag, and then they had hearty flesh to eat. And from the skins of this and other deer killed by Sir Tristram, Isold made stout clothes. And Tristram fashioned a spear and with it he killed a savage boar, and they made shoes from its hide.

And whilst Sir Tristram went hunting, Isold stayed at home in the cave and she was happy to have cured him. And Tristram was pleased to be well, but when his good health was no longer new, and he had supplied all of their needs, he began to think that it was deplorable for Isold to live forever in a cave in the wilds, for she was properly a queen.

But when he told her of this she said, “Mine own dear love, rather with thee in the woods than with anyone else in a palace! I care nought for courts as such.”

“Yet,” said Sir Tristram, “my love, thou art a royal person, whom God saw fit to make first a princess and then a queen. It can never be right that thou stay in this rustication, into which we fled on pain of death.”

“I suffer not from deprivation,” said Isold. “And obviously we can not return to Tintagel. Nor indeed may we go to Ireland now, knowing Anguish my father, who was much pleased by my Cornish match. Methinks he would now strike off thine head for carrying me away.”

“The which I never intended to do, God wot!” said Sir Tristram.

“Prithee take no offense,” said Isold embracing him sweetly. “Dear love, the fault was mine that Mark discovered us so. Thou hast acted prudently in all events.”

“Yet methinks I might have done better,” said Tristram. “’Tis not so virile to be such a victim of circumstances. But all the alternatives have ever been worse. I could not do without thee. Yet with thee I have done some evil. ’Tis pious to love one’s fate, but I confess I am not always able to do that.”

“And is it so dreadful here in our jolly cave?” asked Isold, for she could see his melancholy, and she feared its issue.

“But is it right that we live as savage creatures forever?” asked Sir Tristram in return. “Thou art a queen, as I am a knight.”

And to this question Isold made no answer, for she was a woman and she did not share his sense of vocation.

Now when Mark had taken back his castle from the traitors and had killed them every one, he turned again to thoughts of Tristram and Isold, and the wondrous thing was that his heart began to soften towards them, for he came to understand that their love, though sinful, was malicious towards him only by accident and not by design, for his nephew could easily have killed him at any time and become king, and Isold might simply have introduced poison into the aphrodisiac he had drunk so often.

And of the many traitors which had surrounded him, they had not been two.

Now he sent for the loyal Brangwain (whom fortune had favored when it kept her by the king’s side on that day when he had come upon the lovers abed, else she might have lost her head as a conspirator). And to that handmaiden he said, “Is there ought that I should know about La Belle Isold of which I am yet ignorant?”

“Yea,” said Brangwain, “and it is that whilst en route to Cornwall from Ireland the princess and Sir Tristram did unwittingly drink of a potion that caused them to fall in love with each other, and for this there is no antidote.”

“I see,” said King Mark. “Then they are not evil in their hearts, and their purpose in adulterating together is not to make mock of my crown nor of me?”

“Nay,” said the loyal Brangwain, “they bear you no ill will, Sire. They are helpless to do otherwise than they do.”

“Well,” said King Mark, “I am sorry to know this, for it doth make me feel worse. For they must be caught and put to death, and there is no appeal against the great crime of cuckolding the king. But I am relieved of all desire for revenge, and I can no longer hate them. Nor shall I actively seek them out for punishment.”

And he was as good as his word, and he did not take up their pursuit again, and for a long time Tristram and Isold lived with impunity in the forest.

But then King Mark went pigsticking one day, and on the trail of a wild boar he had ridden deep into the woods, separating himself from his retainers. And finding himself before the mouth of a cave he dismounted and he went therein on foot, and he carried his naked sword should the boar be at bay there.

Now Tristram and Isold had lately eaten their rude lunch, and then they lay down side by side, for to rest, and both had fallen into a slumber.

And this is how King Mark found them, and he stood over their sleeping bodies with his sword in his hands, and looking at them in their clothes of deer hide and with their brown skins from the life outdoors, and seeing near by the coals of their fire and the bones of the rude meat they had eaten, he was touched at the heart to know of the hardships they had endured for their love. And he had no will to put them to death as they lay asleep.

And if he took them in arrest and returned them to Tintagel for Isold’s burning and the beheading of Sir Tristram, what cause would be served? ’Twould be but the extinction of two comely lives who had been blameworthy without conscious intent.

Now Mark was torn by these thoughts, for he knew that his royal obligation was to punish these adulterers, and being self-elevated from a dukedom to a throne he was ever concerned with being kingly, and above all he wished to avoid some failure which would shame him in the eyes of King Arthur, whose esteem he most wanted.

But what he finally did was to bend over the pair and to place his naked sword between their two bodies, and leaving it there he returned to Tintagel.

Now when Sir Tristram awoke from his nap and he turned to Isold for to kiss her as was his wont when first opening his eyes, he saw the sword between them, and seizing it he sprang to his feet.

And Isold was awake as well, and she said, “This sword is Mark’s.”

To which Sir Tristram replied, “I know it well.”

“Dost thou then believe,” asked Isold, “that ’twas himself who put it there?”

“I do,” said Sir Tristram.

“Not stolen from him?” asked Isold. “And placed here by some mocker?”

“Nay,” said Tristram. “Mark was here, dear Isold, and he saw us and he could have killed us in our sleep. Thus he left his sword in significance of what he might have done.”

“’Tis not at all like Mark,” said Isold, “for he is a vengeful man.”

“Then he hath altered,” Sir Tristram said deliberately and with feeling. “This was a kind thing that he did, and more than we deserved.”

But Isold heard this speech with no pleasure. “Deserved?” she asked. “Who but God can say what are human deserts? We have done only what we have had to do! And we did never ask to be born.”

“But we are not brute beasts,” said Tristram, “notwithstanding the way we live now.”

Then Isold looked at him for a long time, and she said sadly, “Thou wouldst return this sword to Tintagel.”

“Never against thy will,” said Tristram, and he looked dearly at her.

“I shall never exert it in defiance of what thou believest to be thy knightly principles,” said Isold.

“But dost think that what I would do be the right?” asked Sir Tristram.

“Nay, Tristram,” cried Isold, “I shall not say pro nor con of this! ’Twould exceed mine office to make such judgment. Do not ask it!”

“But we are not two but one,” said Tristram.

“In some things but not all,” said Isold. “Thy bosom doth not swell as mine, nor are thine hips as round, and I have a more slender neck and softer skin. And with thy greater strength thou hast made a stronger bow than mine and killed larger animals. Therefore we are something different in our obligations. If thou wouldst surrender to Mark, then do it of thine own volition unassisted.”

“And shalt thou come with me?” asked Sir Tristram.

“Perforce,” said Isold. “For what could keep me here in these wilds?”

Therefore, in the greatest sadness that ever any two lovers felt, they went out of the forest and they returned to Tintagel, where they came unto King Mark.

And Sir Tristram knelt before him and he offered Mark’s sword in his two hands, and he said, “Sire and Uncle, I am sorry as I can be for my crime against you, and there is no excuse for it.”

And overcome with feeling the king wept great tears, and he said, “There is the greatest excuse for it, Nephew, for I now know of the elixir of love the which ye both did drink unwittingly, and it was irresistible.”

“Yet,” said Tristram, “never did I try at all to resist it.”

Now Isold did not assume the posture of submission, and she said to Mark, “’Tis I who am solely at fault, for I am of the superior station. I was an Irish princess, and I have since been queen of Cornwall!”

“My dear Isold,” said King Mark, “you are a proud woman, this I now understand belatedly. Your sin is God’s affair and not mine. I shall make no reference to it further, and the decision must be yours whether to remain in Cornwall as its queen or to go away again with my nephew.”

And now was Isold moved to tears, for Mark had become truly a fine king for the first time, in whom generosity was a strength and not a weakness.

And Isold turned to Sir Tristram and she bade him to rise, and then she asked him what he would have her do. And never had she looked more queenly, though she still wore the rude clothes of deerskin and her face was brown from the sun.

“Lady,” said Sir Tristram bowing, “I shall love you all the days of my life.” And here the tears welled from his eyes, and further he could not speak for some time. And then he said to the king, “Uncle, your kindness to me hath been too extravagant to repay in any fashion but by my departure from Cornwall forever. Mine heart is broken, but perhaps to the strength of my soul.”

BOOK: Arthur Rex
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