[Then they began the battle, and tilted at their hardest against each other,] so that both knights and horses fell to the earth. But Sir Marhaus’ spear smote Sir Tristram a great wound in the side. Then, springing up from their horses, they lashed together with their swords like two wild boars. And when they had stricken together a great while they left off strokes and lunged at one another’s breasts and visors; but seeing this availed not they hurtled together again to bear each other down.

Thus fought they more than half the day, till both were sorely spent and blood ran from them to the ground on every side. But by this time Sir Tristram remained fresher than Sir Marhaus and better winded, and with a mighty stroke he smote him such a buffet as cut through his helm into his brain-pan, and there his sword stuck in so fast that thrice Sir Tristram pulled ere he could get it from his head. Then fell Sir Marhaus down upon his knees, and the edge of Sir Tristram’s sword broke off into his brain-pan. And suddenly when he seemed dead, Sir Marhaus rose and threw his sword and shield away from him and ran and fled into his ship. And Tristram cried out after him, “Aha! Sir knight of the Round Table, dost thou withdraw thee from so young a knight? it is a shame to thee and all thy kin; I would rather have been hewn into a hundred pieces than have fled from thee.”

But Sir Marhaus answered nothing, and sorely groaning fled away.

“Farewell, Sir knight, farewell,” laughed Tristram, whose own voice now was hoarse and faint with loss of blood; “I have thy sword and shield in my safe keeping, and will wear them in all places where I ride on my adventures, and before King Arthur and the Table Round.”

Then was Sir Marhaus taken back to Ireland by his company; and as soon as he arrived his wounds were searched, and when they searched his head they found therein a piece of Tristram’s sword; but all the skill of surgeons was in vain to move it out. So anon Sir Marhaus died.

But the queen, his sister, took the piece of sword-blade and put it safely by, for she thought that some day it might help her to revenge her brother’s death.

Meanwhile, Sir Tristram, being sorely wounded, sat down softly on a little mound and bled passing fast; and in that evil case was found anon by Governale and King Mark’s knights. Then they gently took him up and brought him in a barge back to the land, and lifted him into a bed within the castle, and had his wounds dressed carefully.

But for a great while he lay sorely sick, and was likely to have died of the first stroke Sir Marhaus had given him with the spear, for the point of it was poisoned. And, though the wisest surgeons and leeches—both men and women—came from every part, yet could he be by no means cured. At last came a wise lady, and said plainly that Sir Tristram never should be healed, until he went and stayed in that same country whence the poison came. When this was understood, the king sent Sir Tristram in a fair and goodly ship to Ireland, and by fortune he arrived fast by a castle where the king and queen were. And as the ship was being anchored, he sat upon his bed and harped a merry lay, and made so sweet a music as was never equalled.

When the king heard that the sweet harper was a wounded knight, he sent for him, and asked his name. “I am of the country of Lyonesse,” he answered, “and my name is Tramtrist;” for he dared not tell his true name lest the vengeance of the queen should fall upon him for her brother’s death.

“Well,” said King Anguish, “thou art right welcome here, and shalt have all the help this land can give thee; but be not anxious if I am at times cast down and sad, for but lately in Cornwall the best knight in the world, fighting for my cause, was slain; his name was Sir Marhaus, a knight of King Arthur’s Round Table.” And then he told Sir Tristram all the story of Sir Marhaus’ battle, and Sir Tristram made pretence of great surprise and sorrow, though he knew all far better than the king himself.