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Updated: May 13, 2025


But Gorvenal said: “Fear not, he is dead. I killed him with this sword.” Then Tristan was glad, and henceforward from that day no one dared enter the wild wood, for terror guarded it and the lovers were lords of it all: and then it was that Tristan fashioned his bow “Failnaught” which struck home always, man or beast, whatever it aimed at.

“Sir,” said the hermit, “it is but two miles further on this way.” Then Tristan and Gorvenal lay down, for it was evening. In the morning, when they had slept, and when the hermit had chanted, and had shared his black bread with them, Tristan thanked him and rode hard to Carhaix.

Such is my judgment, but you, my lords of Lyonesse, are my lieges, and owe me counsel; if then, some one of you will counsel me another thing let him rise and speak.” But all the barons praised him, though they wept; and taking with him Gorvenal only, Tristan set sail for King Mark’s land.

He fitted out a great ship and loaded it with corn and wine, with honey and all manner of good things; he manned it with Gorvenal and a hundred young knights of high birth, chosen among the bravest, and he clothed them in coats of home-spun and in hair cloth so that they seemed merchants only: but under the deck he hid rich cloth of gold and scarlet as for a great king’s messengers.

But Ivan had an evil gladness, and as he went he dragged her out of the borough bounds, with his hideous company. Now they took that road where Tristan lay in hiding, and Gorvenal said to him: “Son, here is your friend. Will you do naught?” Then Tristan mounted the horse and spurred it out of the bush, and cried: “Ivan, you have been at the Queen’s side a moment, and too long.

“Lord, I am Tristan: I bring you a writ, and lay it here.” Then the King cried: “Nephew! nephew! for God’s sake wait awhile,” but Tristan had fled and joined his squire, and mounted rapidly. Gorvenal said to him: “O, Tristan, you are mad to have come. Fly hard with me by the nearest road.” So they came back to the Hermitage, and there they found Ogrin at prayer, but Iseult weeping silently.

On the third day, at the hour of noon, Tristan and Gorvenal came near a hill where an old chantry stood and close by a hermitage also; and Tristan asked what wasted land that was, and the hermit answered: “Lord, it is Breton land which Duke Hod holds, and once it was rich in pasture and ploughland, but Count Riol of Nantes has wasted it.

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