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Authors: Rosemary Sutcliff
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me.’
‘It was because I loved you,’ said the Princess. ‘I was not knowing it then. I was not knowing why it was like a sword turning in my heart when you stood before my father and claimed me for the King of Cornwall when I had thought to hear you claim me for yourself. I was not knowing until you lifted me in your arms to carry me ashore in this place. Tristan, whoever takes me for his wife, whether you will or no, and God help me, whether I will or no, you are my lord as long as I live.’
And Tristan bent his head into his hands and groaned.
‘Do you love me?’ said Iseult.
And Tristan felt as though his heart were tearing in two within him. ‘Iseult, I am King Marc’s man!’
‘But do you love me?’
‘And I owe him all my loyalty.’
‘This man-talk of loyalty means little to me,’ she said. ‘Love matters more. Do you love me?’
And Tristan said, ‘I love you. Though it is like to be the death of both of us, I love you, Iseult.’
And he sprang up and turned to the doorway; but she was before him. ‘Then stay here, and be with me a little while, before we lose each other.’
So Tristan put his arms round her and held her fiercely close, and she clung to him so they were together as a honeysuckle clinging to a hazel tree.
But when the night was over, they sailed with the morning tide.
8
The Branch in the Stream
WHEN THEY CAME to the landing beach below Tintagel, Iseult of Ireland stood in the bows of the ship, wearing her most brilliant gown, and the royal goldwork in her hair; and Tristan stood beside her, ready to lead her ashore. Their ship had been sighted from afar by the lookouts on the high castle headland, and King Marc, who had known of their coming since Gorvenal reached him with the whole story two days before, had come down to the landing beach to greet his bride, the Princess of the Swallow’s Hair.
And when the ship came to rest beside the timber jetty, and Tristan took Iseult’s hand to aid her over the side and lead her to where the King stood waiting, it was as cold as ice.
King Marc looked down at her, and said, ‘Until now, I thought this marriage would be for the binding together of an old rift between Cornwall and Ireland, but now I know that it is also for making music in my heart.’ And he took both her hands between his own. ‘Your hair is as red as flame, but your hands are so cold. Yet mine are big enough to warm them.’ And he stood looking down at her a moment, before he drew her to him and stooped his head and kissed her.
And Tristan, turning aside to greet old friends and old enemies, thought, He loves her, too! Dear God in Heaven, the King loves her, too!
Eighteen days later, King Marc and the Princess were married. Iseult was no more Iseult of Ireland but Iseult of Cornwall; and her place was beside the King, and the gold circlet of a queen was on her head. And for a long time, or it seemed a long time to them, Tristan never looked her way nor she his; and the old bond between Tristan and the King his uncle was as it had been before.
So all the autumn and the winter went by, and the year turned back to spring, and then one day when the gorse was in flower along the headlands, Tristan came upon the Queen in the little garden that clung to the rocks below the castle; and she was looking towards Ireland and weeping. And all his love for her that he had pushed far down into his dark and deepmost place, came rushing up to the light again; and he put his arms round her and held her close and kissed her as he had done in the little hut among the elder trees. And after that there was no going back for either of them to where they had been before.
As ill-fortune would have it, they were seen by another nephew of the King’s, Andret by name, who was jealous of Tristan. And from then on, Andret spied upon them until he was sure; and then he went to the King and told him that there was love between Tristan and the Queen.
The King would not believe him.
‘It was because I loved you,’ said the Princess. ‘I was not knowing it then. I was not knowing why it was like a sword turning in my heart when you stood before my father and claimed me for the King of Cornwall when I had thought to hear you claim me for yourself. I was not knowing until you lifted me in your arms to carry me ashore in this place. Tristan, whoever takes me for his wife, whether you will or no, and God help me, whether I will or no, you are my lord as long as I live.’
And Tristan bent his head into his hands and groaned.
‘Do you love me?’ said Iseult.
And Tristan felt as though his heart were tearing in two within him. ‘Iseult, I am King Marc’s man!’
‘But do you love me?’
‘And I owe him all my loyalty.’
‘This man-talk of loyalty means little to me,’ she said. ‘Love matters more. Do you love me?’
And Tristan said, ‘I love you. Though it is like to be the death of both of us, I love you, Iseult.’
And he sprang up and turned to the doorway; but she was before him. ‘Then stay here, and be with me a little while, before we lose each other.’
So Tristan put his arms round her and held her fiercely close, and she clung to him so they were together as a honeysuckle clinging to a hazel tree.
But when the night was over, they sailed with the morning tide.
8
The Branch in the Stream
WHEN THEY CAME to the landing beach below Tintagel, Iseult of Ireland stood in the bows of the ship, wearing her most brilliant gown, and the royal goldwork in her hair; and Tristan stood beside her, ready to lead her ashore. Their ship had been sighted from afar by the lookouts on the high castle headland, and King Marc, who had known of their coming since Gorvenal reached him with the whole story two days before, had come down to the landing beach to greet his bride, the Princess of the Swallow’s Hair.
And when the ship came to rest beside the timber jetty, and Tristan took Iseult’s hand to aid her over the side and lead her to where the King stood waiting, it was as cold as ice.
King Marc looked down at her, and said, ‘Until now, I thought this marriage would be for the binding together of an old rift between Cornwall and Ireland, but now I know that it is also for making music in my heart.’ And he took both her hands between his own. ‘Your hair is as red as flame, but your hands are so cold. Yet mine are big enough to warm them.’ And he stood looking down at her a moment, before he drew her to him and stooped his head and kissed her.
And Tristan, turning aside to greet old friends and old enemies, thought, He loves her, too! Dear God in Heaven, the King loves her, too!
Eighteen days later, King Marc and the Princess were married. Iseult was no more Iseult of Ireland but Iseult of Cornwall; and her place was beside the King, and the gold circlet of a queen was on her head. And for a long time, or it seemed a long time to them, Tristan never looked her way nor she his; and the old bond between Tristan and the King his uncle was as it had been before.
So all the autumn and the winter went by, and the year turned back to spring, and then one day when the gorse was in flower along the headlands, Tristan came upon the Queen in the little garden that clung to the rocks below the castle; and she was looking towards Ireland and weeping. And all his love for her that he had pushed far down into his dark and deepmost place, came rushing up to the light again; and he put his arms round her and held her close and kissed her as he had done in the little hut among the elder trees. And after that there was no going back for either of them to where they had been before.
As ill-fortune would have it, they were seen by another nephew of the King’s, Andret by name, who was jealous of Tristan. And from then on, Andret spied upon them until he was sure; and then he went to the King and told him that there was love between Tristan and the Queen.
The King would not believe him.
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