Tristan

“ The leper stood at his side in silence. He had been watching Tristan’s face, with the bloom of youth thereon, pondering the while on the misery of his own hard lot. The world and the splendour thereof mocked his shrivelled and repulsive skin. As for Tristan, he seemed like a young god destined to trample down fate with the serene calm of a fearless fortune. The leper turned from the warm south with the bitterness of a man who beholds life’s pathway curling towards the grave.
“Yonder, messire, is La Vallée Joyeuse,” he said. “The saints defend you. As for me, I wander on towards death.” ”

“ For as Tristan and his guards went down from the town to where the faggot burned, near the road upon a rock was a chantry, it stood at a cliff’s edge steep and sheer, and it turned to the sea-breeze; in the apse of it were windows glazed. Then Tristan said to those with him:
“My lords, let me enter this chantry, to pray for a moment the mercy of God whom I have offended; my death is near. There is but one door to the place, my lords, and each of you has his sword drawn. ”

“ As a half-slumbering man may note a sudden brilliant gleam of sunshine flashing on the walls of his chamber, Tristan gazed in confused bewilderment, when suddenly his stupefied senses were aroused to hot life and pulsation, as he fixed his straining gaze on the supreme fair form of the woman in the first car, standing erect like a queen, surveying her subjects.
In the silence of a great multitude there is always something ominous. ”

“ Jocelyn bowed his shoulders beneath the words as a slave stoops from the hissing lash. He clutched his bosom, choked, fell prone, grovelled at Tristan’s feet. But in Tristan’s heart there was no glimmer of pity.
“Strip him, sirs,” were his words to his men. “When ye have scourged him down to the island, set him in his priest’s robes by my sister’s grave. Guard him there till I shall come.” ”

“ A mass of passion and virile power, he faced the peasantry like a prophet of God.
As Tristan watched him, he began to speak, moving his hands to time his words. His voice bewitched from the first sound, and the simple folk before him were as still as stones. ”

“ Tristan, I love you with a love so idolatrous, that I could slay you with these hands rather than be spurned, be denied by you. Love me Tristan—love me! And I shall give you such love in return as mortals have never known. I am as one in a trance—I cannot see—I cannot think! I, the woman born to command—am begging—imploring—I care not what you do with me—what becomes of me. ”

“ Even as Tristan watched from under the low eaves of a house, a knot of soldiers passed him, bearing on their shoulders the figure of a man. He was so swathed in cordage as to look like an encased mummy. Setting the victim against a stake, they chained him there, buffeting and spitting in his face, as he had been the Christ. Torches licked at the faggots, and deep ululations ran through the square with the strident psalming of the monks for an underchant. The flames writhed like golden snakes; smoke blackened out the faces of the stars. ”

“ For a moment Tristan hesitated, then he took his seat beside her on the marble bench, his brain afire, as he mused on all the treachery her soft bosom held.
"You look strangely at me, Tristan," she said in a low tone, dropping all formality, "almost as if it gave you pain to sit beside me. Yet I cannot think that a man like you has never rested beside a beautiful woman in an hour of solitude and passion." ”

“ No battlements frowned black-browed over the meadows. Beauty and simple truth sat throned in its calm heart.
As for Rosamunde, she was queen therein; Tristan gathered as much before they had gone fifty paces of the grey, white stones. Her empire lay with the people’s hearts. She was mother, lady, friend to all. Children ran to her when they saw her face. She had a kiss, a smile, an outstretched hand for each. Some brought her flowers, posies of red and white, which Tristan, taking, laid within his shield. ”

“ One day, as they were wandering in these high woods that had never yet been felled or ordered, they came upon the hermitage of Ogrin.
The old man limped in the sunlight under a light growth of maples near his chapel: he leant upon his crutch, and cried:
“Lord Tristan, hear the great oath which the Cornish men have sworn. The King has published a ban in every parish: Whosoever may seize you shall receive a hundred marks of gold for his guerdon, and all the barons have sworn to give you up alive or dead. Do penance, Tristan! God pardons the sinner who turns to repentance.” ”

“ As for Tristan, he was as a hound in leash; his sword thirsted in its scabbard; he had tasted blood, and was hot for a tussle. His sinews were taut despite the southron’s spear, and his strength seemed greater than of yore, perhaps because his heart bulked bigger. Nightly when they camped in the woods he would wrestle with any man whose ribs could bear his hug. He could take Samson by the hips, burly man that he was, and hold him high above his head. The fellows would gather round and gape at the giant. Tristan began to know his power the more as he found strong men mere pygmies in his grip. ”

“ In the foreground, in the garden, lies TRISTAN sleeping on a couch under the shade of a great lime-tree, stretched out as if lifeless. At his head sits KURVENAL, bending over him in grief and anxiously listening to his breathing. From without comes the mournful sound of a shepherd's pipe. ”

“ Tristan's words died in the utterance as he surveyed her for the space of a moment with a glance so full of horror and disdain that she knew she had lost.
"Yes—it is I," she replied, hardly above a whisper, hot flush and deadly pallor alternating in her beautiful face, terrible in its set calm. "And—though I may not possess you—that other shall not! See!" ”

“ They planned to give news of their watching to the King, to see his tenderness turned to fury, Tristan thrust out or slain, and the Queen in torment; for though they feared Tristan their hatred mastered their fear; and, on a day, the four barons called King Mark to parley, and Andret said:
“Fair King, your heart will be troubled and we four also mourn; yet are we bound to tell you what we know. You have placed your trust in Tristan and Tristan would shame you. In vain we warned you. For the love of one man you have mocked ties of blood and all your Barony. ”

“ As the taller of the two pushed back the hood of his pilgrim garb, as if to cool his brow in the night breeze, Tristan peered into a face not lacking in sensuous refinement. Dark supercilious eyes roved from one object to another, without dwelling long on any particular one. There was somewhat of a cynical look in the downward curve of the eyebrows, the thin straight lips and the slightly aquiline nose, which seemed to imbue him with an air of recklessness and daring, that ill consorted with his monkish garb. ”

“ And so Mark did, and ordered Tristan by his barons to go off without delay.
Then Tristan came near the Queen for his farewell, and as they looked at one another the Queen in shame of that assembly blushed, but the King pitied her, and spoke his nephew thus for the first time:
"You cannot leave in these rags; take then from my treasury gold and silver and white fur and grey, as much as you will."
"King," said Tristan, "neither a penny nor a link of mail. I will go as I can, and serve with high heart the mighty King in the Lowlands." ”

“ Great was the temptation that assailed Tristan that night to take Rosamunde his love and to ride from Agravale, leaving the Southern Marches to their fate. He could overtake the Duchess in a day, and leave the future to her and the King. If Serjabil and his Saracens crossed the mountains, the King could gather his great vassals and give them battle in due season. Had he not done enough with his single sword?
But as great hearts rise to great needs, so Tristan cast the tempter out of his soul, and grew strong in the strength of heroic manhood. ”

“ There was a swirl of thought in Tristan’s brain. Rosamunde of Joyous Vale had his mind in thrall, and his first duty to her was easy in its consummation. Leaning his chest upon his oars, he reached for the casket where it lay on the plankings at his feet. The thing was bound with iron, its wood black and ponderous with age. Tristan balanced it in the hollow of his hand, wondering whether it would sink or swim. The feminine temptation to force the lid never thrust a suggestion into his brain. Tossing the casket over the gunwale, he saw it sink in a wavering circle of light. ”

“ Tristan's unsophisticated mind could not so easily forget. He had stood at the brink of the abyss, he had looked down into the murky depths from which there was no escape once the fumes had conquered the senses and vanquished resistance. With a shudder he called to mind, how utterly and completely he had abandoned himself to the lure of the sorceress, how little short of a miracle had saved him. ”

“ And as he came, he saw Duke Riol charging, rein free, at Kaherdin, but Tristan came in between. So they met, Tristan and Duke Riol. And at the shock, Tristan’s lance shivered, but Riol’s lance struck Tristan’s horse just where the breast-piece runs, and laid it on the field.
But Tristan, standing, drew his sword, his burnished sword, and said:
“Coward! Here is death ready for the man that strikes the horse before the rider.” ”

“ But had Tristan known that trial by combat was to be denied him, certainly he would not have suffered it.
For he trusted in God and knew no man dared draw sword against him in the lists. And truly he did well to trust in God, for though the felons mocked him when he said he had loved loyally, yet I call you to witness, my lords who read this, and who know of the philtre drunk upon the high seas, and who understand whether his love were disloyalty indeed. For men see this and that outward thing, but God alone the heart, and in the heart alone is crime and the sole final judge is God. ”

“ She ran to where Tristan lay wounded, and with the sword above him she cried:
“You are that Tristan of the Lyonesse, who killed the Morholt, my mother’s brother, and now you shall die in your turn.”
Tristan strained to ward the blow, but he was too weak; his wit, however, stood firm in spite of evil and he said:
“So be it, let me die: but to save yourself long memories, listen awhile. King’s daughter, my life is not only in your power but is yours of right. My life is yours because you have twice returned it me. ”

“ The guard grounded his pike and stared Tristan over.
“Sir Ogier is at dinner,” quoth he.
“He can listen the better, being so wholesomely occupied. Come, friend, lead on.”
The man took Tristan to a small room that was joined to the guards’ hall by a winding stair. At a table, with a page boy at his elbow, sat a giant with a great hairy jowl, gigantic hands, and a heavy paunch. He was gnawing a mutton bone like a huge ogre, and had a tankard of ale at his right hand. He stared Tristan over with his small, close-set eyes, showed his teeth when he heard his business. ”

“ Tristan stammered, "for one who is seeking you in an hour of grave doubt and misgiving."
The monk's ear had caught the accent of a foreign tongue. He beckoned to Tristan to enter, rising from the bench on which he had been seated.
"You come at a strange hour," he said, not without a note of suspicion, which did not escape Tristan. "Your business must be weighty indeed to embolden one, a stranger on Roman soil, to penetrate the desolate Aventine when the world sleeps and murder stalks abroad." ”

“ Then it was fine to see the lepers throwing their capes aside, and stirring their sick legs, and brandishing their crutches, some threatening: groaning all; but to strike them Tristan was too noble. There are singers who sing that Tristan killed Ivan, but it is a lie. Too much a knight was he to kill such things. Gorvenal indeed, snatching up an oak sapling, crashed it on Ivan’s head till his blood ran down to his misshapen feet. Then Tristan took the Queen. ”

“ And he covered her hands with burning kisses. After his passionate outburst had died to silence she spoke quietly, tremulously.
"Tristan," she began, and paused as if she were summoning courage to do that which she must. "Tristan, this may not be."
"I love you," he sobbed. "I love you! This is all I know! All I shall ever know. How can I support life without you? heart of my heart—soul of my soul?—What must I do, to win you for my own—to give you happiness?" ”

“ King Mark was sorely wrath with Tristan, his sister's son, and bade him avoid his realm, by reason of the love he bore the Queen. So Tristan repaired to his own land, and dwelt for a full year in South Wales, where he was born. Then since he might not come where he would be, Tristan took no heed to his ways, but let his life run waste to Death. Marvel not overmuch thereat, for he who loves beyond measure must ever be sick in heart and hope, when he may not win according to his wish. ”

“ And he had never ceased to wonder at the tales which enlivened the camp-fires, the reports of her beauty, her daring, her unscrupulous ambition.
On the whole, Tristan's prospects in Rome seemed barren enough. Service might perchance be obtained with the Senator, who would doubtlessly welcome a stout arm and a true heart. This alternative failing, Tristan was utterly at sea as to what he would do, the prescribed rounds of obediences before the shrines and the penances accomplished. He felt as one who has lost his purpose in life, even before he had been conscious of his goal. ”