Would you like, good people, to listen to a beautiful story about love and

of death? This is the story of Tristan and Queen Isolde. Hear how loved
they each other to great joy and to great sorrow, both from that and
died on the same day - he because of her, she because of him.
In former times King Mark reigned in Cornwall. Having found out that his
the enemies took up arms against him, Rivalen, king of Loonua, crossed the sea
to help him. He served him both with a sword and with advice, as a vassal would do,
and
served so faithfully that Mark rewarded him with the hand of his sister, the
beautiful
Blanchefleur, whom Rivalen fell in love with unspeakable love.
He married her in the church of Tintagel. But he barely made it
marry, when news reached him that his old enemy Duke Morgan,
falling on Loonua, ruining its lands, devastating fields and cities.
Rivalen hastily fitted out the ships and took Blanchefleur, pregnant, to his
distant country. Bailiff at his castle Canoel, he left the queen on
care for the marshal of his Roald, who was given a glorious
Nickname: Roald Hard Word. Then, having gathered the barons, he went to
warrior.
Blanchefleur waited a long time for him. Alas, he was not destined to return!
One day she learned that Duke Morgan had treacherously killed him. She didn't cry
him: no groans, no complaints. But her limbs became weak and lifeless;
her soul longed to escape from her body. Roald tried to calm her down.
- Empress! he said. - There is no benefit in accumulating grief on grief. Is
All those who are born will not die? May the Lord accept the dead, and yes
He will keep alive!
But she didn't want to listen to him. For three days she waited for a date
with a sweetheart.
spouse On the fourth day she gave birth to a son and, taking him in her arms, said:
- My son, I have long wanted to see you: I see the most beautiful creature,
which a woman has ever produced. I gave birth in sorrow, my first is sad
hello to you, and for you I'm sad to die. And since you came into the world from
sadness, Tristan and there will be a name for you {The name of Tristan is consonant
with the French triste
- sad.}.
So saying, she kissed him, and as she kissed him, she died. Roald
Solid Word took on the upbringing of an orphan. Already the soldiers of Duke Morgan
surrounded
Canoel castle. How was it for Roald to endure the war for so long? They say the
truth:
"Desperation is not courage." He had to surrender to Duke Morgan. But from
afraid that Morgan would not kill the son of Rivalen, the marshal gave him
own child and raised with his sons.
Seven years later, when it was time to take the boy from the hands of women,
Roald entrusted him to a wise mentor, the glorious stableman Gorvenal. Soon
Gorvenal taught him the arts that befitted the barons: how to own
spear and sword, shield and bow, throw stone discs, jump over one
jump the widest ditches; taught him to hate all lies, all
treachery, helping the weak, keeping one's word; taught all kinds
singing, playing the harp and hunting. When the boy rode among the young
squires, it seemed that his horse, weapons and he himself were one and
it was impossible to separate them. Looking at him, so beautiful, courageous,
broad-shouldered, thin at the waist, strong, loyal and brave, everyone praised
Roald that he has such a son. And Roald, remembering Rivalen and Blanchefleur,
whose youth and beauty came to life before him, loved Tristan like a son, and
secretly honored him as his master.
It so happened that all his joy ended on the day when
Norwegian merchants, having lured Tristan onto their ship, took him away as a
glorious
prey. While they sailed to unknown lands, Tristan rushed about like a young
wolf caught in a trap. But it is known from experience - and all sailors are well
know - that the sea is reluctant to carry the ships of the treacherous and does not
help kidnappings
and betrayals. It rose angry, enveloped the ship in darkness and drove it
eight days and eight nights anywhere.
Finally, the sailors saw, through the fog, a shore cut by cliffs and
underwater reefs, on which their ship was supposed to crash. They repented
realizing that the sea was angry with them because of this child, kidnapped by them
in
bad hour. They vowed to set him free and equipped a boat to
land him on the beach. Immediately the winds and waves subsided, the sky shone; at
that
while the ship of the Norwegians vanished into the distance, calm and laughing
waters
Tristan's boat was carried to the sandy shore.
With great difficulty, the young man climbed the cliff and saw that behind the
hilly and
an endless forest stretches like a desert steppe. He lamented, regretting
Gorvenale, Roald, his father, and about the land of Loonua, when suddenly a distant
sound
the hunting horn and hails cheered his heart.
A beautiful deer appeared at the edge of the forest. Pack of dogs and hunters
rushed in his footsteps, wailing and trumpeting. But when a few bloodhounds hung on
neck of the beast, he fell a few steps from Tristan on his hind legs with
his last breath, and one of the hunters hit him with a spear. Meanwhile, as
having gathered in a circle, they trumpeted about luck, Tristan was surprised to
see how
the older hunter slashed the deer's throat, as if about to cut it.
- What are you doing, my lord? he exclaimed. - Has it come
skinning such a noble animal as skinning a slaughtered pig? Is
Is this the custom of this country?
“My friend,” answered the hunter, “what have I done that could
surprise? Yes, I will first take the head of a deer, then I will cut the carcass
into four
the parts that we will carry, tying to the pommel of our saddles, King Mark,
our master. This is how we do it; so did the inhabitants of Cornwall with
the time of the ancient hunters. If, however, you know a more worthy
custom, show us it: here is a knife for you, my friend, we will gladly learn from
you.
Kneeling, Tristan skinned the deer before separating it;
then separated, as it should, without touching the sacrum, took away the giblets,
muzzle, tongue,
nucleus and heart vein.
Both hunters and travelers, bending over him, watched and admired.
- Friend! - said the chief hunter. - This custom is wonderful. In which
country did you learn it? Tell us where are you from and what is your name?
- My lord, my name is Tristan, and I learned this custom in my
homeland of Loonua.
- Tristan! - said the hunter. - May the Lord reward the father who is so
raised you well. He must be a baron, rich and powerful.
Tristan, who knew how not only to speak well, but also to keep silent,
answered him slyly:
- No, sir, my father is a merchant; I secretly left the house on the ship,
who went to trade in distant countries, because he wanted to know how in
people live in foreign lands. If you accept me as one of your hunters, I will
I will gladly follow you and teach you, sir, other joys of the hunt.
- I wonder, Tristan, that there is such a country where the sons of merchants
know
something that the children of knights do not know in other lands. Come with us if
want! Welcome: we will take you to King Mark, our lord.
Tristan finished breaking up the deer; he gave the dogs his heart, head and
entrails and showed the hunters how to allocate a share for dogs and call them
on the horn Then, placing well-cooked parts of deer meat on the horns
carcasses, entrusted them to each hunter separately: one - a large fillet,
another - the backside, this - the shoulder blades, that - the hind legs, this -
deer thighs. He
taught them to form in pairs so that they could ride in good order, according to
the dignity of those parts of the game that stuck out on the horns.
And so they set off and rode, talking until they found themselves in front of
beautiful castle. It was surrounded by meadows, orchards, living waters, fishing
sinkholes and arable fields. Many ships entered the harbor.
The castle towered over the sea, strong and beautiful, well defended
against any attack and siege weapons; and its main tower, once
erected by the giants, was built of stone blocks, huge and well
hewn, arranged like green and blue squares on a chessboard.
Tristan asked what the name of the castle was.
- His name is Tintagel.
- Tintagel? Tristan exclaimed. - May you be blessed by God
you and your masters!
Here, good people, once in great joy his father Rivalen
married Blanchefleur. But, alas, Tristan did not know about it! When they
drove up to the castle tower, the sounds of hunting horns attracted to the gate
barons and King Mark himself.
When the senior hunter told him about what had happened. Mark admired
beautiful train schedule, well skinned reindeer and great sense
hunting habit. But in particular he admired the wonderful
a young stranger, and his eyes could not take his eyes off him.
"Where do I get this sudden tenderness?" the king asked his heart,
but could not understand. It was his own blood, good people: it came in
and spoke to him. That was the love he once had for his sister
Blanchefleur.
In the evening, when the tables were taken away, the Welsh juggler {Singer,
musician,
narrator.}, a master of his craft, appeared among the assembled barons and sang
songs to the sound of the harp.
Tristan sat at the feet of the king. And when the singer played the prelude to
the new
melody, he addressed him with the following speech:
- This song is better than all others: once the ancient Bretons composed it,
to glorify Graelent's love. Gentle is her motive, gentle are her words. In singing
you
skillful, play it better.
He sang, and then asked:
- My child, what do you understand in the art of music? If merchants from the
earth
Loonua also teach their sons how to play the harp, rota {Rota is a small
harp.} and the violin, then get up, take the harp and show your art.
Tristan took the harp and sang so beautifully that the barons, listening to
him,
were touched, and Mark admired the singer from the land of Loonua, where in the old
days
Rivalin took Blanchefleur away. When the song ended, the king was silent for a long
time.
- My son! he said at last. - Blessed be the teacher who
taught you, blessed are you also by the Lord! The Lord loves good singers. Them
the voice and the voice of the harp penetrate into the hearts of people, awaken
dear ones in them.
memories and make you forget many sorrows and many atrocities. On the
joy to us you have entered this house. Stay with me for a long time, my friend.
- I will gladly serve you, sovereign, as your singer, hunter and
lennik.
And so he did. And over the course of three years, mutual love grew in
their hearts. During the day, Tristan accompanied Mark to the courtroom or hunting;
and at night
in the royal chamber, where he slept with other near and faithful people,
played the harp to assuage the grief of the king when he was sad.
The barons doted on him, especially Seneschal Dinas of Lidan,
show you the story. But more tenderly than the barons and Dinas from Lidan, his
king loved him.
However, despite their tenderness, Tristan was inconsolable that he had lost his
father
his Roald, tutor of Gorvenal, and the land of Loonua.
Kind people! A storyteller who wants to please should avoid
too long stories. The subject of this story is so beautiful and
varied - why lengthen the story? Here I will briefly say how,
having wandered for a long time across the seas and countries, Roald the Solid Word
stuck to
Cornwell, found Tristan and, showing Mark a carbuncle, once given
Blanchefleur, as an expensive marriage gift, said to him:
- King Mark, this young man - Tristan of Loonua - is your nephew, son
your sister Blanchefleur and King Rivalen! Duke Morgan unjustly owns
his land, it would be time for her to return to her rightful heir.
I will say briefly that, having received a knighthood from his uncle, Tristan
went across the sea on Cornish ships, forced the fighting vassals of his
father to confess himself, challenged the killer Rivalen, killed him and entered
into
possession of their land. Then he reflected that King Mark could no longer
be happy without him; and as the nobility of the heart always showed him
to the wisest decision, he summoned his earls and barons and said to them thus:
- Senors Loonua! By the grace of God and with your help, I won back
this country, avenged King Rivalen, and paid my father his due. But
two people, Roald and King Mark of Cornwall, supported the orphan,
a wandering poor man, and it behooves me to call them fathers; do I owe them
pay tribute? An eminent person has two properties: his land and his
body. And here is Roald, whom you see here, I leave my land. Father
mine, you will own it, and your son after you. To King Mark I give mine
body; I will leave this country, though it is dear to me, and go to Cornwalls
serve my master Mark. That is my decision. But you, gentlemen of Loonua,
my slaves owe me advice. So, if any of you wants to inspire me
another solution, let him get up and talk.
All the barons praised Tristan with tears in their eyes. And he, taking with
him
one Gorvenal, went to the country of King Mark.