Soon his fame as a minstrel reached the ears of the Queen of Ireland, a lady deeply versed in the art of healing. She was, indeed, “the best Couthe of Medicine”[56] Tristrem had seen, and in order to heal his wound she applied to it “a plaster kene.” Later she invited him to the Court, where his skill in chess and games astonished every one. So interested in him did the royal lady become at last that she undertook to cure him, and effected her object by means of a medicated bath and other medieval remedies. Then, on account of his fame as a minstrel, he was given the task of instructing the Princess Ysonde—as the name ‘Yseult’ is written in this particular version.
This princess was much attached to minstrelsy and poetry, and under the tuition of Tristrem she rapidly advanced in these arts, until at length she had no equal in Ireland save her preceptor. And now Tristrem, his health restored, and having completed Ysonde’s instruction, felt a strong desire to return to the Court of King Mark. His request to be allowed to depart was most unwillingly granted by the Queen, who at the leave-taking loaded him with gifts. With the faithful Gouvernayl he arrived safely in Cornwall, where Mark received him joyfully. When the King inquired curiously how his wound had been cured, Tristrem told him of the great kindness of the Irish Queen, and praised Ysonde so 265 highly that the ardour of his uncle was aroused and he requested Tristrem to procure him the hand of the damsel in marriage. He assured Tristrem that no marriage he, the King, might contract would annul the arrangement whereby Tristrem was to succeed to the throne of Cornwall. The nobles were opposed to the King’s desires, which but strengthened Tristrem in his resolve to undertake the embassage, for he thought that otherwise it might appear that he desired the King to remain unmarried.
The Marriage Embassy
With a retinue of fifteen knights Tristrem sailed to Dublin in a ship richly laden with gifts. Arrived at the Irish capital, he sent magnificent presents to the King, Queen, and Princess, but did not announce the nature of his errand. Hardly had his messengers departed than he was informed that the people of Dublin were panic-stricken at the approach of a terrible dragon. This monster had so affrighted the neighbourhood that the hand of the Princess had been offered to anyone who would slay it. Tristrem dared his knights to attack the dragon, but one and all declined, so he himself rode out to give it battle. At the first shock his lance broke on the monster’s impenetrable hide, his horse was slain, and he was forced to continue the fight on foot. At length, despite its fiery breath, he succeeded in slaying the dragon, and cut out its tongue as a trophy. But this exuded a subtle poison which deprived him of his senses.
Thus overcome, Tristrem was discovered by the King’s steward, who cut off the dragon’s head and returned with it to Court to demand the hand of Ysonde. But 266 the Queen and her daughter were dubious of the man’s story, and upon visiting the place where the dragon had been slain, they came upon Tristrem himself. Their ministrations revived him, and he showed them the dragon’s tongue as proof that he had slain the dread beast. He described himself as a merchant, and Ysonde, who did not at first recognize him, expressed her regret that he was not a knight. The Queen now caused him to be conveyed to the palace, where he was refreshed by a bath, and the false steward was cast into prison.
Meanwhile the suspicions of the Princess had been aroused, and the belief grew that this ‘merchant’ who had slain the dragon was none other than Tremtris, her old instructor. In searching for evidence to confirm this conjecture she examined his sword, from which, she found, a piece had been broken. Now, she possessed a fragment of a sword-blade which had been taken out of the skull of Moraunt, her uncle, and she discovered that this fragment fitted into the broken place in Tristrem’s sword, wherefore she concluded that the weapon must have been that which slew the Irish ambassador. She reproached Tristrem, and in her passion rushed upon him with his own sword. At this instant her mother returned, and upon learning the identity of Tristrem she was about to assist Ysonde to slay him in his bath when the King arrived and saved him from the infuriated women. Tristrem defended himself as having killed Moraunt in fair fight, and, smiling upon Ysonde, he told her that she had had many opportunities of slaying him while he was her preceptor Tremtris. He then proceeded to make known the object of his embassy. He engaged that his uncle, King Mark, should marry Ysonde, and it 267 was agreed that she should be sent under his escort to Cornwall.
It is clear that the Queen’s knowledge of medicine was accompanied by an acquaintance with the black art, for on the eve of her daughter’s departure she entrusted to Brengwain, a lady of Ysonde’s suite, a powerful philtre or love potion, with directions that Mark and his bride should partake of it on the night of their marriage. While at sea the party met with contrary winds, and the mariners were forced to take to their oars. Tristrem exerted himself in rowing, and Ysonde, remarking that he seemed much fatigued, called for drink to refresh him. Brengwain, by a fateful error, presented the cup which held the love potion. Both Tristrem and Ysonde unwittingly partook of this, and a favourite dog, Hodain,
That many a forest day of fiery mirth
Had plied his craft before them,[57]
licked the cup. The consequence of this mistake was, of course, the awakening of a consuming passion each for the other in Tristrem and Ysonde. A fortnight later the ship arrived at Cornwall. Ysonde was duly wed to King Mark, but her passion for Tristrem moved her to induce her attendant Brengwain to take her place on the first night of her nuptials.