Part 30

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.'