Then came Gouvernail, Sir Tristram’s squire, and bore his master back to land, where Mark and all the Cornish lords came to meet him and convey him to the castle of Tintagil.  Far and wide they sent for surgeons to dress Sir Tristram’s wound, but none might help him, and ever he grew weaker.  At the last, a wise woman told King Mark that in that land alone whence came the poisoned spear could Sir Tristram find cure.  Then the King gave orders and a ship was made ready with great stores of rich furnishings, to convey Sir Tristram to Ireland, there to heal him of his wound.

CHAPTER XIII

THE FAIR ISOLT

Thus Tristram sailed to Ireland, and when he drew nigh the coast, he called for his harp, and sitting up on his couch on the deck, played the merriest tune that was ever heard in that land.  And the warders on the castle wall, hearing him, sent and told King Anguish how a ship drew near with one who harped as none other might.  Then King Anguish sent knights to convey the stranger into the castle.  So when he was brought into the King’s presence, Tristram declared that he was Sir Tramtrist of Liones, lately made knight, and wounded in his first battle; for which cause he was come to Ireland, to seek healing.  Forthwith the King made him welcome, and placed him in the charge of his daughter, Isolt.  Now Isolt was famed for her skill in surgery, and, moreover, she was the fairest lady of that time, save only Queen Guenevere.  So she searched and bandaged Sir Tristram’s wound, and presently it was healed.  But still Sir Tristram abode at King Anguish’s court, teaching the Fair Isolt to harp, and taking great pleasure in her company.  And ever the princess doubted whether Sir Tristram were not a renowned knight and ever she liked him better.

So the time passed merrily with feastings and in the jousts, and in the lists Sir Tristram won great honour when he was recovered of his wound.

At last it befell upon a day that Sir Tristram had gone to the bath and left his sword lying on the couch.  And the Queen, entering, espied it, and taking it up, drew the sword from the sheath and fell to admiring the mighty blade.  Presently she saw that the edge was notched, and while she pondered how great a blow must have broken the good steel, suddenly she bethought her of the piece which had been found in the head of her brother, Sir Marhaus.  Hastening to her chamber, she sought in a casket for the fragment, and returning, placed it by the sword edge, where it fitted as well as on the day it was first broken.  Then she cried to her daughter:  “This, then, is the traitor knight who slew my brother, Sir Marhaus”; and snatching up the sword, she rushed upon Sir Tristram where he sat in his bath, and would have killed him, but that his squire restrained her.  Having failed of her purpose, she sought her husband, King Anguish, and told him all her story:  how