Celtic Mythology: Captivating Celtic Myths of Celtic Gods, Goddesses, Heroes and Legendary Creatures

by Matt Clayton

  One day, Rohalt came to the court of Tintagel on an errand, and recognized his foster son. He rejoiced at seeing Tristan again, alive and whole, when he had thought him dead, and Tristan likewise was gladdened to see the man he thought of as his father. They went to Mark, and there disclosed to him the truth of Tristan's name and station. Tristan begged of Mark arms and men to avenge his father and to rid Lyonesse of the evil duke. Mark agreed, gladly, knighting Tristan himself that very day. Tristan sailed for Lyonesse on the morrow with his army, and soon they had routed the duke's men and put them to flight, while the duke himself was slain by Tristan in single combat.

  Wishing to return to Mark's service, Tristan gave all his lands to Rohalt and his heirs, with the agreement of the nobles of Lyonesse. Then Tristan bade farewell to Rohalt and returned to Cornwall, taking with him only the Squire Gorvenal, who had been his master-at-arms when he was a boy.

  When Tristan and Gorvenal arrived at Tintagel, they found Mark and his court in great distress. For fifteen years, the king of Ireland had demanded a heavy tribute of slaves, which Mark had refused to pay. Therefore an Irish knight named Morholt, brother of the queen of Ireland, was come with his companions to tell Mark that the Irish would invade Cornwall and lay it waste unless either he paid the tribute or Morholt was defeated by a Cornish champion in single combat.

  Morholt spoke his challenge boldly in the great hall of Tintagel, but none of the nobles of the court dared take it up until Tristan begged to be allowed to defend the honor of Cornwall. Mark hesitated, for he loved Tristan well, and did not want to lose such a fine knight in the flower of his youth. But Tristan persisted, and finally Mark relented. Morholt agreed that he would meet Tristan in battle on the morrow, on St Sampson's Isle.

  At the appointed time, Morholt and Tristan sailed to the island, both well-armed and each alone in his own boat. The knights saluted one another, and their battle commenced. Such a fight had never been seen before in either Cornwall or Ireland, and doubtless such a fight has never been seen since. Both knights struck mighty blows upon shields, and parried mighty blows with their blades, and the din of it was like the sound of a hundred smiths all fast at their work.

  On shore, King Mark and his court anxiously awaited news of the victor, as did the Irish nobles. Hour by hour no word came from St Sampson's Isle, until the vespers-bell rang. Then one of Mark's courtiers pointed out to sea and shouted, "Look!"

  There on the horizon was the sail of Morholt's boat, and the boat of Tristan nowhere to be seen. Cornishmen and Irishmen alike barely dared breathe waiting to see who it was at the helm of that boat. Soon enough it came into the harbor, with Tristan proudly standing in the bows and Morholt lying mortally wounded by the mast. Nobles rushed to pull the boat to shore. Tristan jumped out and showed his sword to the Irishmen: a piece of it was broken off near the tip of the blade.

  Tristan said, "Men of Ireland! Your knight fought well and bravely, but in the end the victory was to Cornwall. See here my sword: the piece that is missing you will find lodged in your champion's head. That piece of my sword is the tribute of Cornwall. Take it therefore to your king in Ireland."

  Tristan then returned to the castle of Tintagel, crowds cheering his victory while bells rang in all the churches of the city. Tristan smiled and accepted the thanks and praise of his countrymen, but when he finally reached the court and the crowds were shut outside the gate, he crumpled into the arms of King Mark, senseless with utter weariness and the wounds he had received.

  The Irishmen for their part took up the body of Morholt and returned to their own land. They sorrowed greatly, for not only had Morholt had great strength of arms, but he was also much beloved by the king and queen and all their court. When they arrived, they gave Morholt over into the care of his sister, the queen, and her daughter, Iseult. Both women were well skilled in the healing arts, and had often tended Morholt and other knights of their household when they returned wounded from battle. But they could not mend such a fatal wound, and soon Morholt was dead, with the fragment of Tristan's blade still lodged in his head. Then the queen and Iseult grieved heavily for the death of their kinsman, and when they were done with their weeping, Iseult went to the body of Morholt and drew forth the piece of Tristan's sword, which she set in a secret place for safekeeping. And from that day forth, Iseult set her heart against Tristan, and vowed vengeance upon him for the death of her uncle.

  But neither was Tristan quickly healed of his hurts, for Morholt had struck him with a poisoned lance. The wound festered, despite the ministrations of the best doctors in all Cornwall. Finally Tristan knew that his death was not far off. He begged Mark to have a boat prepared for him, for he wished to be placed in it along with his harp and then pushed out to sea, where he might die in peace, for on the sea had he come to Cornwall those many years ago. For many days, the king refused this request, but soon even Mark saw that Tristan was dying, and so had the boat readied. Mark, Gorvenal, and the Seneschal Dinas, who also loved Tristan well, set him in his boat with his harp. They pushed him out into the retreating tide, where they watched until the little craft floated beyond their sight.

  For many days, Tristan floated on the waves in his little boat. He played his harp and sang to keep himself company, and one day this sound came to the ears of some fishermen. It was a strange and haunting song, for Tristan's voice was weak and he could not sing or play for more than a few moments together. The fishermen followed the sound of the music, and when they came upon Tristan they took him into their own craft, where he closed his eyes and scarcely seemed to breathe. The fishermen sailed as quickly as they could for the harbor, for they saw that Tristan was gravely wounded and likely to die. Once ashore in their own country, they bore Tristan to the lady of the castle that was nearby, for she was known far and wide as a healer.

  Tristan was brought to a chamber and put into a soft, clean bed, and the lady tended him well. His festering wound soon closed and healed, and when his fever had abated he came to himself and found a beautiful lady with long golden hair sitting by his bedside.

  "If it please my lady," said Tristan, "tell me who you are and what place this is."

  "This is the castle of Whitehaven," said the lady, "and I am Iseult, the daughter of the king of Ireland."

  Then Tristan understood the grave danger he was in, for surely the Irishmen would have no love for the knight who had bested their finest champion and deprived them of rich tribute.

  Then the lady spoke. "I have told you my name," she said. "Now favor me with yours."

  "My name is Tramtris," he said, knowing that his true name would likely mean the death of him. "I had undertaken a journey to Spain to learn what I could of the harpers there when pirates beset our ship. They wounded me, as you see. I managed to escape, but my companions all perished when their ship sank."

  Now, the Lady Iseult had never seen Tristan before, so she had no reason to believe his story false. Tristan spent many days at the court of Whitehaven, and although there he saw many of the nobles who had come to Cornwall with Morholt, none recognized him, so ravaged was he by the illness brought on by his wound.

  Under Iseult's care, Tristan soon regained his former strength. And one night, when he deemed the time right, he fled the castle and made his way back to Cornwall, where he was received with joy by King Mark and all the court.

  While King Mark and the people of Cornwall loved Tristan well, four nobles there were who envied Tristan his beauty and prowess, and the trust he had of King Mark. And the names of these four were Andret, Guenelon, Gondoit, and Denoalen. It came to their ears that King Mark, who was both unwed and childless, intended to make Tristan his heir, rather than choosing from among the nobles. Therefore the four went to the king, demanding that he take to himself some noble wife, else they would band together and assail Tintagel until Mark was overthrown. Even so, Mark was steadfast, saying that he would have none other than his own dear nephew sit on the throne of Cornwall.

  Tristan for his part lik
ed it not, for he knew the nobles deemed that he served Mark not out of love, but that he should gain the throne after Mark's death. Feeling the wound to his honor, Tristan went to Mark and said that he agreed with the nobles, and that if needs must he would leave Cornwall, unless the king were to take to himself a wife and thereby produce a rightful heir. At this Mark finally bowed to the demands of his court, and said that they would be answered after the space of forty days, although he himself despaired of finding a noble bride both agreeable to himself and also acceptable to his court.

  One day, while Mark sat at the window thinking on how to find himself a bride, he saw two little birds flitting about, arguing over which of them should have the thing that one clutched in its beak. As they quarreled, the one let the thing fall. It glittered and shone as it fell, golden in the sunlight, so Mark put his hand out the window to catch it. When he had it in his hand, he saw that it was a single, long, golden hair.

  Mark took the hair and showed it to his court. "My lords," he said, "I have found who I shall have for my bride. Find for me the woman from whose head this came, and her I will wed."

  At this the nobles fell silent, for they knew that Mark was mocking them by this challenge. The four who had first counselled him to marry muttered to each other that Tristan must be the author of the trick, and they looked darkly at him. Tristan knew what they did, so he stood in the middle of the hall and said, "My liege, I beg of you the right to undertake the quest to find the Lady of the Golden Hair. And I vow not to return to Tintagel but with that lady." For Tristan had bethought him of Iseult, daughter of the king of Ireland and her long, fair hair.

  King Mark had no choice but to grant this request, so Tristan summoned Gorvenal and a hundred good knights and sailed with them to Ireland. There Tristan and his knights set about pretending to be merchants, while awaiting a chance that would let them bring the Lady Iseult back with them to Cornwall.

  One evening, as Tristan and his companions dined in a tavern, the sound of a great wailing roar floated down from the hills and through the air of the town. Tristan asked the landlord what sound that was, for neither he nor any of his friends had ever heard anything so fearsome, and it made even their brave blood run cold.

  "That is the voice of the dragon," said the landlord. "Betimes it comes down from its den in the mountains and threatens to burn the town and lay the lands about waste unless we give to it a young maiden. When it roars thus, we know we have until the next evening to choose a maiden to be its prize.

  "A score of knights and more have tried already to kill it, but none have come back alive, and more's the pity, for the king himself has said that whoever slays the beast shall have his daughter Iseult to be his bride, and she is the most beautiful woman in all the world. Ah, me," sighed the landlord, who was a grizzled man and shaped like one of his own beer barrels, "were I but twenty years younger and three stone lighter, I myself might even chance that quest, for the Lady Iseult is like none other."

  It was then that Tristan knew what he must do. First he asked a question or two more, that he might learn the way to the dragon's lair, but without disclosing his intent. Then he and his companions thanked the landlord for his tale and for the meal. They paid their fare, and then returned to their ship as though they planned to spend the night there, as was their custom. But instead of going to their rest, they helped arm Tristan in secret, and when the harbor and the town at last were all fast asleep, they mounted him on his horse and away he rode to meet the dragon.

  On the way to the beast's lair, Tristan saw five armed men come galloping down the road towards him. He hailed them and asked whether he was on the right road to find the dragon. They pulled up their mounts, and one of them said, "That you are, but if you were a wiser man, you would turn around this instant. For that beast surely comes straight from the mouth of Hell itself."

  Then the five put spurs to their horses and were away with great speed. Tristan resumed his journey, and soon came into the domain of the dragon. Once the beast had snuffed the scent of Tristan's horse, it came barreling out of its den, nostrils streaming smoke. It was as long as the great hall in the castle Tintagel, with claws red as blood and long and sharp as scythes, and a great maw full of teeth like the tusks of an elephant but sharper than any sword. Also it was covered in great, gleaming scales all over its back and legs, and its great serpent's eyes glowed with a malevolent green light.

  Putting his lance in rest, Tristan spurred his charger directly at the dragon. The great steed leapt into battle with a good will, for he was as courageous as his master. Just as Tristan's lance struck the side of the dragon and was shivered into splinters, the monster let out a gout of flame from its mouth. Tristan held off the flames from his own body with his shield, but it was not sufficient also to protect his steadfast friend. The horse crumpled to the ground, dead on the instant. Tristan jumped aside as his mount fell, and drew his sword. He darted to and fro, dodging the dragon's teeth and claws and flaming fire and the lashings of its mighty tail, but though he landed many blows, none could pierce the scales of the beast. Then Tristan darted under the dragon's body and stabbed upwards. His blade found a soft, unprotected space in the dragon's breast, and his blade went straight into the beast's heart. With a deafening scream and a last burst of flame, the dragon coiled in its death throes. It shuddered a final time and was still.

  Then Tristan took his sword and cut out the dragon's tongue. He put it inside his armor next to his skin for safekeeping but did not think about the poisonous venom that was in it. Tristan staggered and fell, where he lay like one dead.

  While Tristan was fighting the dragon, the five men he had passed on the road stopped at a tavern where they talked among themselves of the knight who had gone where they dared not, and wondered how he had fared. The one who had spoken to Tristan was the Seneschal of Ireland, and a right coward, but he was the leader of that little band. He said to his fellows, "Let us go and see what became of that knight we met on the road. Mayhap we will find something to our own advantage."

  So the Seneschal and his companions went back to the dragon's lair, and when they arrived they saw that the beast lay dead and Tristan also slain beside it, or so they thought. So the Seneschal took his sword and cut off the dragon's head, thinking that he would thus have the Lady Iseult for his prize. When the Seneschal showed the head to the king, the king wondered how a man of so little prowess could have slain such a great beast, but he had no choice but to keep his word, and so said that the fair Iseult should wed the Seneschal, but only after the court had judged the rightness of his claim.

  Iseult herself was shamed that she would be made to marry a man of little courage and conniving ways, so she called for her palfrey and set out for the dragon's lair, along with her faithful squire, Perinis, and Brangien, her maid. At the beast's den they found the headless body of the dragon and the burned body of a horse, but looking upon its saddle and arms knew that the steed was not that of the Seneschal. Casting about them, they soon chanced upon Tristan, still lying as though dead on the grass. They put Tristan onto Perinis's horse and brought him back to the castle, where Iseult gave him into the care of her mother. When her servants removed Tristan's armor, they found the dragon's tongue, and the queen knew that the venom of it was the cause of Tristan's swoon. She gave him a physic for it, and soon he came to himself.

  The queen told Tristan of the Seneschal's deed, and of Iseult's horror at being promised to a knave and a coward. Tristan vowed that he would defend his own honor, and that of Iseult, if the queen could but heal him of his hurts. The queen agreed, gladly, then went to tell her daughter. Iseult wished to know more of this strange knight, so she went to where his arms had been placed. She drew the sword out of its sheath, and there she saw the notch in the blade, which exactly fitted the bit of steel she had taken from the head of Morholt. At this, she fell into a rage, and sword in hand she strode into the chamber where Tristan lay, still weak from the dragon's venom. Iseult held the sword at his bre
ast saying, "I know who you are. You are Tristan of Lyonesse, who slew the knight Morholt, my uncle and a good man. Tell me why I should not now have my vengeance on you."

  "Lady," said Tristan, "kill me if you must, for I owe you my life twice over. I was the harper you saved, who came to Ireland in a little boat and grievously wounded, and now a you have saved me from the dragon's venom. But before you avenge your uncle I ask you: did I not slay Morholt in fair combat? Did he not act as champion for Ireland as I did for Cornwall? And did I not also slay the dragon for you? So take then my life, for it is yours, but do this knowing what it is you do, and who it is you slay."

  Iseult held the sword still at his breast, but now she was troubled in her heart. She said, "Why then would you come here, since you have set yourself at enmity with Ireland? Why then would you take me unwilling to a far country where I am a stranger, but to punish me and my father and my people?"

  Then Tristan told to her the story of the birds and the fair golden hair, and that it was for this that he came to Ireland, to find such a lady, although he did not then say who had sent him or why. And Iseult found herself well answered. She lowered the sword, and there made peace with Tristan.

  When the day came for the Seneschal to prove his claim, the king found his hall filled not only with his own courtiers but with a hundred strange knights, all dressed in fine raiment and girt with good swords, for Iseult had sent Perinis to Tristan's ship to give his companions word that they were to array themselves as befit their station and come to the court at the appointed time. There in front of the court, the Seneschal told a tale of how he had slain the dragon, and produced its head as evidence of his prowess and victory. Then the king said, "Is there anyone who would gainsay the claim of the Seneschal?"