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.

Then was he put in charge of the king’s daughter, La Belle Isault, to be healed of his wound, and she was as fair and noble a lady as men’s eyes might see.  And so marvellously was she skilled in medicine, that in a few days she fully cured him; and in return Sir Tristram taught her the harp; so, before long, they two began to love each other greatly.