A rumor runs through the city in the dark night: Tristan and the queen are

captured, the king

wants to execute them. Rich townspeople and small people - all cry. - Alas, how can
we
do not Cry! Tristan, brave fighter, will you really die from such a vile
betrayal? And you, noble, revered queen! In what land
Will there ever be a princess so beautiful, so beloved? It's a fruit
your sorcery, hunchback dwarf! May he not be deemed worthy to see the Lord,
who, having met you, will not plunge a spear into your heart! Tristan, dear friend,
expensive! When Morold, who had come to take our children, landed on
this shore, none of the barons dared to arm themselves against him: all
were silent, like dumb ones, only you, Tristan, went out to fight for all of us,
people
Cornwall. You killed Morold, he hit you with a spear, and from this wound you can
hardly
did not die for us. And now, remembering all this, shall we allow your death?
Complaints and cries are carried throughout the city; everyone runs to the
palace. But
such is the wrath of the king that there is no such strong and bold baron who
I would dare to put in a word to soften it.
The day is coming, the night is leaving. Before sunrise, Mark left the city
to the place where he usually did judgment and reprisals. He ordered to dig in the
ground
pit and fill it with knotted thorny rods of black and white thorns,
uprooted.
At six o'clock in the morning, he ordered a cry to be called throughout the
country, so that immediately
but the Cornish people gathered. They ran noisily; and there was no one who
would not cry, except for the dwarf from Tintagel. Then the king said this:
“Seniors, I ordered this bonfire of thorns to be laid down for Tristan and
queens, for they have broken the law.
Everyone shouted:
- We demand a court, sovereign, first of all, a court, litigation and trial!
To execute them without trial is a shame and a crime. Give them a reprieve, show
mercy!
Mark replied angrily:
- There will be no respite, no mercy, no protection, no judgment. I swear
Lord, Creator of the world, if anyone dares to ask me about it, his first
burn at the stake.
He ordered to light a fire and bring Tristan from the castle. Blackthorn
blazes, everyone is silent, the king is waiting.
The servants ran to the rest, where the lovers were under strong guard.
Tristan was grabbed by the hands, tangled with ropes. I swear to God what
meanness was so tie him up! He cries with resentment, but what are these tears for?
His
dragged in a shameful way, and the queen exclaims, almost mad with grief:
- To be killed for your salvation - that would be great for me
joy!
The guards and Tristan leave the city, heading for the fire, but behind them
a rider rushes, catches up with them, jumps off a war horse on the move: this is
Dinas,
glorious seneschal. With the news of what had happened, he left his castle of
Lidan;
foam, sweat and blood streamed from the sides of his horse.
- My son, I hasten to the royal court! The Lord, perhaps, will inspire me
such advice that will be useful to both of you; at least. He and now
let me do you a little service. Friends, he said to the servants, I
I wish you to lead him without fetters.
Dinas cut the shameful ropes and added:
 "If he tries to run away, don't you have your swords with you?"
He kissed Tristan on the mouth, mounted his horse again and sped away.
Hear what the mercy of God is! Not wanting the death of a sinner,
The Lord heeded the tears and cries of the poor people who prayed to Him for the
tormented
loving. By the road along which Tristan passed, on the top of a rock stood
above the sea facing north chapel. The walls of her rear side were
located on the edge of the coast, high, rocky, with sharp ledges; in her
in the apse, over the abyss itself, there was a painted window of some skillful
work
holy man. Tristan said to those who led him:
- Do you see this chapel, good people? Let me get into it.
My death is near, I will pray to God to forgive me my sins. At
the chapels have only one exit, and each of you has a sword; you are good
understand that I can only leave through this door and that when I pray, I
willy-nilly have to surrender into your hands.
One of the guards said:
- Of course! Why not let him?
They let him in. He rushed inside the chapel, ran past the altar,
jumped to the window in the apse, grabbed it, opened it and jumped out ...
Better this fall than death at the stake, and even in front of such a gathering!
Know, good people, that God had mercy on him: the wind blew him
clothes, picked him up and lowered him onto a large stone at the foot of the cliff.
Until now, the Cornish people call this stone "Tristan's Leap".
And in front of the church everyone was waiting for him, but in vain: God
accepted him now under
your protection. He runs, loose sand crumbling under his feet. He falls
turns around, sees a fire in the distance: the flame crackles, the smoke rises in a
pillar ...
He's running.
Grabbing his sword, lowering his reins, Gorvenal escaped from the city: the
king burned
would be himself instead of his master. In the clearing he overtook Tristan.
- God have mercy on me, mentor! Tristan exclaimed. - But why should I
this, unfortunate? If Isolde is not with me, everything has lost its value for me.
And
Why didn't I break when I fell! I escaped, Isolde, but you will be killed. Her
burn because of me, because of her I will die.
Gorvenal said to him:
- My dear lord, calm down, do not listen to the voice of anger! Do you see
this frequent shrub, surrounded by a wide moat? Let's hide there: a lot of people
passes along this road, they will notify us, and if, my son, Isolde is burned,
I swear to God, the Son of Marin, never to spend the night under my roof until that
day,
when we avenge her.
“But I don’t have a sword, dear mentor!”
- Here it is, I brought it to you.
- Well, dear teacher: now I am not afraid of anything but God.
- Yes, my son, I have such a thing under my dress that you
will please you - a shell, strong and light, it can do you a favor.
- Give it here, dear mentor; I swear by God in whom I believe that
now I'll free my darling.
- Do not rush! Gorvenal said. - The Lord, without a doubt, has prepared
you some more reliable vengeance. Think about getting closer
the fire is not in your power: the townspeople surround it, and they are afraid of
the king. Maybe
be one or the other and wants your release, but he is the first you and
hit. After all, it is rightly said, my son: desperation is not courage.
Wait a minute...
 It happened that when Tristan threw himself off the cliff, some poor man
from the small crowd I saw him get up and run. He hurried to Tintagel,
sneaked into Isolde's room and said to her:
- Do not cry, madam, your friend escaped.
- May the Lord be blessed! she said. - Let me now
knit or untie, spared or executed, I don't care.
The traitors twisted her hands with ropes so that blood flowed, and she
said smiling:
- If I cried from this torment now that the Lord is in
mercy just snatched my dear from the hands of traitors, why would I
cost?
When word reached the king that Tristan had escaped through the window of the
chapel, he
turned pale with anger and ordered his men to bring Isolde.
She is drawn. She appears at the threshold of the hall, stretching out her
gentle hands,
from which blood oozes. A cry rushes down the street: "God, have mercy on
her! Noble, worthy queen, in what sadness have plunged our country those
who betrayed you! Damn them!"
The queen was dragged to a fire of blazing thorns. Then Dinas from
Lidana fell at the feet of the king:
- Listen to me, my lord! I served you for a long time, honestly and
faithfully, and not for the sake of
benefits: there is no such poor man, orphan, old woman who would give me money for
the Seneschalty that I have kept from you all my life. As a reward
for this, have mercy on the queen. You want to burn her without trial - it's a
crime, because
she won't admit to what you accuse her of. Also consider: if you
burn it, there will be no more peace in your country. Tristan ran away, he's fine
plains, forests, crossings and passages are known, but he dared. Of course you are
uncle, he will not attack you himself, but he will kill all the barons, your
vassals, which he will come across.
The four traitors heard this and turned pale; they already saw Tristan,
waiting for them in ambush.
- Sovereign! said the Seneschal. - If it is true that I served you faithfully
all my life, give me Isolde: I will answer you for her as her guardian and
guarantor.
But the king took Dinas by the hand and swore in the name of all saints that
he
immediately execute judgment.
Then Dinas got up and said:
- I'm returning to Lidan, sir, and I'm leaving your service.
Iseult smiled sadly at him. He mounted his warhorse and
he retired, sad and sullen, with his head bowed.
Isolde is standing in front of the fire. The crowd around her screams, cursing
king, cursing the traitors. By face
Isolde's tears flow. She is dressed in a tight gray dress with a thin
him with a golden stripe; a golden thread is woven into her hair, which falls to
her feet.
Whoever saw her so beautiful and did not regret it has the heart of a traitor.
God, how tightly they bound her hands!
It happened that a hundred lepers, disfigured, with emaciated
whitish body, hobbled on crutches to the sound of their clappers and
crowded around the fire; and from under swollen eyelids their bloodshot eyes
admired the spectacle.
Ewen, the most repulsive of the sick, yelled at the king in a piercing
voice:
- Do you want, sovereign, to set fire to your wife? The punishment is just
but too soon. This strong flame will quickly burn it, quickly dissipate the violent
wind her ashes; and when the flame goes out, her torment will cease. Do you want me
I will teach you the worst punishment, such that she will live, but with great
shame, forever wishing for death? Do you want that?
The king replied:
- Let him live, but with shame, which is worse than death. Who will teach me
execution, that I especially love.
- So, I will tell you briefly my thought, sir. You see, I have a hundred
comrades. Give us Isolde - let her be ours. Illness inflames our
passions. Give it to your lepers. Never a woman will have a worse
end. Look how rags
stick to our oozing wounds ... And she, who was after the heart, while
she was with you, expensive fabrics lined with colorful fur, jewelry,
chambers adorned with marble, she who enjoyed good wines,
honor, joy, - when she sees the courtyard of your lepers and she has to
to enter our low huts and sleep with us, then the beautiful blond Isolde
he will know his sin and regret the beautiful fire of thorns!
After listening to him, the king rose from his seat and stood motionless for a
long time. Finally
he ran up to the queen and grabbed her hand. She exclaimed:
Have pity on me, my lord! Burn, burn me quickly!
The king was silent. Ewen and a hundred patients crowded around her. listening
to how they
screaming and screaming, all hearts sank with pity; Evan is happy. Isolde
leaves, Ewen leads her. A terrible host left the city. They headed for
road where Tristan sat in ambush.
What are you going to do, my son? shouted Gorvenal. - Here's your sweetheart!
Tristan rode out of the thicket on a horse.
- Ewen, it's enough for you to see her off, leave her if life is sweet to you!
But
Ewen threw off his cloak.
- Be brave, friends! Get on with the sticks, the crutches! It's time
show our prowess.
It was delightful to see how, throwing off their cloaks, the lepers climbed
sick legs, puffed, shouted, shaking crutches; this one threatens
grumbles. But it was disgusting for Tristan to beat them. The narrators claim that
he killed
Ivan. It's rude to say that. No, he's too valiant to kill
such a brat. Not he, but Gorvenal, breaking off a strong oak bough, hit him on
Iven's skull; black blood spattered and flowed all over the body, up to
twisted legs.
Tristan repulsed the queen, henceforth she will no longer be evil. He
cut the ropes that bound her hands; and leaving the plain, they plunged into
Morua forest. There, in the dense thicket, Tristan felt safe, as
behind the wall of a strong castle.
When the sun went down, they stopped, all three, at the foot of the mountain.
Fear wearied the queen; she put her head on Tristan's chest and fell asleep.
The next morning, Gorvenal stole from a forester a bow and two well-feathered
jagged arrows and gave it to Tristan - a good shooter who lay in wait
deer and killed her. Gorvenal picked up a pile of dry branches, took out a spark
with a flint and
lit a large fire to roast the game, and Tristan chopped branches, arranged
a hut and covered it with foliage; Isolde covered him thickly with grass. Then in
In the depths of the wild forest, a harsh life began for the fugitives, but dear to
them.