_The Forest Lovers_

Tristrem now returned to Cornwall with Ganhardin, and encountered Ysonde the Queen and the fair Brengwain. But one Canados, the King's Constable, discovered them and carried the ladies back to Court.

Ganhardin made the best of his way home to Brittany, but Tristrem remained in Cornwall, disguised as a beggar.

Our story now tells of a great tournament at the Cornish Court, and how Ganhardin hied him from Brittany and rejoined Tristrem. The two entered the lists and took up the challenge of Meriadok and Canados.

Tristrem, tilting at his old enemy, wounded him desperately. The issue of the combat between Canados and Ganhardin hung in the balance when Tristrem, charging at the Constable, overthrew and slew him. Then, fired with the l.u.s.t of conquest, Tristrem bore down upon his foes and exacted a heavy toll of lives. So great was the scathe done that day that Tristrem and Ganhardin were forced once more to fly to Brittany, where in an adventure Tristrem received an arrow in his old wound.

_The French Ma.n.u.script_

At this point the Auchinleck MS., from which this account is taken, breaks off, and the story is concluded, in language similar to that of the original, by Sir Walter Scott, who got his materials from an old French version of the tale.

We read that Tristrem suffered sorely from his wound, in which, as before, gangrene set in. Aware that none but Ysonde of Ireland could cure him, the stricken knight called Ganhardin to his side and urged him to go with all speed to Cornwall and tell the Queen of his mortal extremity. He entrusted him with his ring, and finally requested the Breton knight to take with him two sails, one white and the other black, the first to be hoisted upon his return should Ysonde accompany him back to Brittany, the sable sail to be raised should his emba.s.sy fail of success. Now Ysonde of Brittany overheard all that was said, her jealous fears were confirmed, and she resolved to be revenged upon her husband.

Ganhardin voyaged quickly to Cornwall, and arrived at the Court of King Mark disguised as a merchant. In order to speed his mission he presented rich gifts to the King, and also a cup to Ysonde, into which he dropped Tristrem's ring. This token procured him a private audience with the Queen, and when she learned the deadly peril of her lover, Ysonde hastily disguised herself and fled to the ship with Ganhardin.

In due course the vessel arrived off the coast of Brittany, carrying the white sail which was to signify to Tristrem that Ysonde was hastening to his aid. But Ysonde of Brittany was watching, and perceiving from the signal that her rival was on board she hurried to her husband's couch. Tristrem begged her to tell him the colour of the sail, and in the madness of jealousy Ysonde said that it was black, upon which, believing himself forsaken by his old love, the knight sank back and expired.

Tristrem had scarce breathed his last when Ysonde entered the castle.

At the gate an old man was mourning Tristrem's death, and hearing the ominous words which he uttered she hastened to the chamber where the corpse of him she had loved so well was lying. With a moan she cast herself upon the body, covering the dead face with kisses and pleading upon the silent lips to speak. Realizing at last that the spirit had indeed quitted its mortal tenement, she raised herself to her feet and stood for a moment gazing wildly into the fixed and gla.s.sy eyes; then with a great cry she fell forward upon the breast of her lover and was united with him in death.

Other versions of the story, with all the wealth of circ.u.mstance dear to the writer of romance, tell of the grievous mourning made at the death of the lovers, whom no fault of their own had doomed to the tyranny of a mutual pa.s.sion, and it is recounted that even King Mark, wronged and shamed as he was, was unable to repress his grief at their pitiful end.

Despite the clumsiness of much of its machinery, despite its tiresome repet.i.tions and its minor blemishes, this tale of a grand pa.s.sion must ever remain one of the world's priceless literary possessions. "Dull must he be of soul" who, even in these days when folk no longer expire from an excess of the tender pa.s.sion, can fail to be moved by the sad fate of the fair Queen and of her gallant minstrel-knight.

Swiche lovers als thei Never schal be moe.

And so they take their place with Hero and Leander, with Abelard and Helose, with Romeo and Juliet.

It would be unfitting here to tell how mythology has claimed the story of Tristrem and Ysonde and has attempted to show in what manner the circ.u.mstances of their lives and adventures have been adapted to the old world-wide myth of the progress of the sun from dawn to darkness.[59] The evidence seems very complete, and the theory is probably well founded. The circ.u.mstances of the great epic of the sun-G.o.d fits most hero-tales. And it is well to recollect that even if romance-makers seized upon the plot of the old myth they did so unconscious of its mythic significance, and probably because it may have been employed in the heroic literature of "Rome la grant."

_The Giant of Mont-Saint-Michel_

It was when he arrived in Brittany to ward off the projected invasion of England by the Roman Emperor Lucius that King Arthur encountered and slew a giant of "marvellous bigness" at St Michael's Mount, near Pontorson. This monster, who had come from Spain, had made his lair on the summit of the rocky island, whither he had carried off the Lady Helena, niece of Duke Hoel of Brittany. Many were the knights who surrounded the giant's fastness, but none might come at him, for when they attacked him he would sink their ships by hurling mighty boulders upon them, while those who succeeded in swimming to the island were slain by him ere they could get a proper footing. But Arthur, undismayed by what he had heard, waited until nightfall; then, when all were asleep, with Kay the seneschal and Bedivere the butler, he started on his way to the Mount.

As the three approached the rugged height they beheld a fire blazing brightly on its summit, and saw also that upon a lesser eminence in the sea some distance away a smaller fire was burning. Bedivere was dispatched in a boat to discover who had lit the fire on the smaller island. Having landed there, he found an old woman lamenting loudly.

"Good mother," said he, "wherefore do you mourn? What has befallen you in this place that you weep so sorely?"

"Ah, young sir," replied the dame, drying her tears, "get thee back from this place, I beseech thee, for as thou livest the monster who inhabits yonder mount will rend thee limb from limb and sup on thy flesh. But yesterday I was the nurse of the fair Helena, niece to Duke Hoel, who lies buried here by me."

"Alas! then, the lady is no more?" cried Bedivere, in distress.

"So it is," replied the old woman, weeping more bitterly than ever, "for when that accursed giant did seize upon her terror did so overcome her that her spirit took flight. But tarry not on this dread spot, n.o.ble youth, for if her fierce slayer should encounter thee he will put thee to a shameful death, and afterward devour thee as is his wont with all those whom he kills."

Bedivere comforted the old woman as best he might, and, returning to Arthur, told him what he had heard. Now on hearing of the damsel's death great anger took hold upon the King, so that he resolved to search out the giant forthwith and slay or be slain by him. Desiring Kay and Bedivere to follow, he dismounted and commenced to climb St Michael's Mount, closely attended by his companions.

[Ill.u.s.tration: KING ARTHUR AND THE GIANT OF MONT-SAINT-MICHEL]

On reaching the summit a gruesome spectacle awaited them. The great fire that they had seen in the distance was blazing fiercely, and bending over it was the giant, his cruel and contorted features besmeared with the blood of swine, portions of which he was toasting on spits. Startled at the sight of the knights, the monster rushed to where his club lay. This purpose Arthur deemed he might prevent, and, covering himself with his shield, he ran at him while yet he fumbled for the weapon. But with all his agility he was too late, for the giant seized the mighty sapling and, whirling it in the air, brought it down on the King's shield with such force that the sound of the stroke echoed afar. Nothing daunted, Arthur dealt a trenchant stroke with Excalibur, and gave the giant a cut on the forehead which made the blood gush forth over his eyes so as nearly to blind him. But shrewd as was the blow, the giant had warded his forehead with his club in such wise that he had not received a deadly wound, and, watching his chance with great cunning, he rushed in within the sweep of Arthur's sword, gripped him round the middle, and forced him to the ground.

Iron indeed would have been the grasp which could have held a knight so doughty as Arthur. Slipping from the monster's clutches, the King hacked at his adversary now in one place, now in another, till at length he smote the giant so mightily that Excalibur was buried deep in his brain-pan. The giant fell like an oak torn up by the roots in the fury of the winds. Rushing up as he crashed to the earth, Sir Bedivere struck off the hideous head, grinning in death, to be a show to those in the tents below.

"But let them behold it in silence and without laughter," the King charged Sir Bedivere, "for never since I slew the giant Ritho upon Mount Eryri have I encountered so mighty an adversary."

And so they returned to their tents with daybreak.

_A Doubting Thomas_

It is strange to think that Brittany, one of the cradles of Arthurian legend, could have produced a disbeliever in that legend so early as the year of grace 1113. It is on record that some monks from Brittany journeyed to England in that year, and were shown by the men of Devon "the chair and the oven of that King Arthur renowned in the stories of the Britons." They pa.s.sed on to Cornwall, and when, in the church at Bodmin, one of their servants dared to question the statement of a certain Cornishman that Arthur still lived, he received such a buffet for his temerity that a small riot ensued.[60] Does not this seem to be evidence that the legend was more whole-heartedly believed in in the Celtic parts of England, and was therefore more exclusively native to those parts than to Continental Brittany? The Cornish allegiance to the memory of Arthur seems to have left little to be desired.

_Arthur and the Dragon_

The manner in which Arthur slew a dragon at the Lieue de Greve, and at the same time made the acquaintance of St Efflam of Ireland, is told by Albert le Grand, monk of Morlaix. Arthur had been sojourning at the Court of Hoel, Duke of Armorica, and, having freed his own land of dragons and other monsters, was engaged in hunting down the great beasts with which Armorica abounded. But the monster which infested the Lieue de Greve was no ordinary dragon. Indeed, he was the most cunning saurian in Europe, and was wont to retire backward into the great cavern in which he lived so that when traced to it those who tracked him would believe that he had just quitted it.

In this manner he succeeded in deceiving Arthur and his knights, who for days lingered in the vicinity of his cave in the hope of encountering him. One day as they stood on the seash.o.r.e waiting for the dragon a sail hove in sight, and soon a large coracle made of wicker-work covered with skins appeared. The vessel grounded and its occupants leapt ash.o.r.e, headed by a young man of princely mien, who advanced toward Arthur and saluted him courteously.

"Fair sir," he said, "to what sh.o.r.e have I come? I am Efflam, the King's son, of Ireland. The winds have driven us out of our course, and full long have we laboured in the sea."

Now when Arthur heard the young man's name he embraced him heartily.

"Welcome, cousin," he said. "You are in the land of Brittany. I am Arthur of Britain, and I rejoice at this meeting, since it may chance from it that I can serve you."

Then Efflam told Arthur the reason of his voyaging. He had been wed to the Princess Enora, daughter of a petty king of Britain, but on his wedding night a strong impulse had come upon him to leave all and make his penitence within some lonely wood, where he could be at peace from the world. Rising from beside his sleeping wife, he stole away, and rousing several trusty servitors he set sail from his native sh.o.r.es.

Soon his frail craft was caught in a tempest, and after many days driven ash.o.r.e as had been seen.

Arthur marvelled at the impulse which had prompted Efflam to seek retirement, and was about to express his surprise when the youth startled him by telling him that as his vessel had approached the sh.o.r.e he and his men had caught sight of the dragon entering his cave.

At these words Arthur armed himself without delay with his sword Excalibur and his lance Ron, and, followed by his knights and by Efflam, drew near the cavern. As he came before the entrance the dragon issued forth, roaring in so terrible a manner that all but the King were daunted and drew back. The creature's appearance was fearsome in the extreme. He had one red eye in the centre of his forehead, his shoulders were covered with green scales like plates of mail, his long, powerful tail was black and twisted, and his vast mouth was furnished with tusks like those of a wild boar.

Grim and great was the combat. For three days did it rage, man and beast struggling through the long hours for the mastery which neither seemed able to obtain. At the end of that time the dragon retired for a s.p.a.ce into his lair, and Arthur, worn out and well-nigh broken by the long-drawn strife, threw himself down beside Efflam in a state of exhaustion.

"A draught of water, fair cousin," he cried in a choking voice. "I perish with thirst."

But no water was to be found in that place save that of the salt sea which lapped the sands of Greve. Efflam, however, was possessed of a faith that could overcome all difficulties. Kneeling, he engaged in earnest prayer, and, arising, struck the hard rock three times with his rod. "Our blessed Lord will send us water," he exclaimed, and no sooner had he spoken than from the stone a fountain of pure crystal water gushed and bubbled.

With a cry of ecstasy Arthur placed his lips to the stream and quaffed the much-needed refreshment. His vigour restored, he was about to return to the dragon's cavern to renew the combat when he was restrained by Efflam.

"Cousin," said he of Ireland, "you have tried what can be done by force; now let us see what can be achieved by prayer."

Arthur, marvelling and humbled, sat near the young man as he prayed.

All night he was busied in devotions, and at sunrise he arose and walked boldly to the mouth of the cavern.

"Thou sp.a.w.n of Satan," he cried, "in the name of G.o.d I charge thee to come forth!"

A noise as of a thousand serpents hissing in unison followed this challenge, and from out his lair trailed the great length of the dragon, howling and vomiting fire and blood. Mounting to the summit of a neighbouring rock, he vented a final bellow and then cast himself into the sea. The blue water was disturbed as by a maelstrom; then all was peace again.