Then Tristan asked:
“How far is this keep of Carhaix?”
“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. And as he halted beneath the fast high walls, he saw a little company of men behind the battlements, and he asked if the Duke were there with his son Kaherdin. Now Hod was among them; and when he cried “yes,” Tristan called up to him and said:
“I am that Tristan, King of Lyonesse, and Mark of Cornwall is my uncle. I have heard that your vassals do you a wrong, and I have come to offer you my arms.
“Alas, lord Tristan, go you your way alone and God reward you, for here within we have no more food; no wheat, or meat, or any stores but only lentils and a little oats remaining.”
But Tristan said
“For two years I dwelt in a forest, eating nothing save roots and herbs; yet I found it a good life, so open you the door.”
They welcomed him with honour, and Kaherdin showed him the wall and the dungeon keep with all their devices, and from the battlements he showed the plain where far away gleamed the tents of Duke Riol. And when they were down in the castle again he said to Tristan: