Tristan's high reputation
kept rising even further
at court and among his countrymen.
Everyone sang his praises
for his skill and cleverness.
Again, he and the queen 
were enjoying the best of times,
raising each other's spirits
at every opportunity.
It was also at this time
that Tristan had a companion,
one of the court's noble barons,
a high vassal of the king
and also his chief steward,
whose name was Marjodoc.
His friendship and his fondness
for Tristan had more to do
with the attractive, young queen,
for whom he had secret longings,
as do many men for ladies
who pay no attention to them.
Tristan and the steward shared
living quarters between them,
and in addition to this contact
enjoyed each other's fellowship.
For the many stories Tristan told,
the steward had made it a habit
to join him in the evening
and share good conversation.


One night it came to pass,
after he and Tristan had traded
long tales with one another
and other interesting talk,
that the steward fell asleep.
Tristan the lover
then stole quietly away
on a prowl that cost him
and also the queen
many a deep heartache.
While he though himself undetected
and secure in his venture,
Disaster had spread her snare,
her spies, her machinations,
all along the familiar path 
he used at every occasion
for his visits of joy to Isolt.
Snow had dusted the way that night,
and now the full moon shone
with all its brilliant clarity.
Tristan had no thought of trouble,		13500
or any fear of being observed.
He proceeded swiftly to his goal,
where a secret assignation
had already been arranged.


As he came into the chamber,
Brangaene leaned a chessboard
against the lamp to make a shadow.
I know not how she could forget,
but she did leave the gate open,
and went back to her own bed.
While Tristan was keeping his appointment,
Marjodoc the seneschal,
still deep in sleep, dreamed 
that a wild boar from the forest,
a frightful and dangerous beast,
charged into the king's court
slashing with its foaming tusks
at anything in its way
with savage intent only to attack.
At once there came on the run
a strong company from the court.
Armed knights thrust and feinted
all around the raging brute,
but there was none so fearless
as dared to confront it.
It quickly broke away from them
to rampage snarling through the palace.
When it came to Marke's quarters,
it burst in through the door.
Finding the bed where Marke would sleep,
it tossed and rent it viciously.
With its slime it befouled
the bed and all the bedclothes
covering the royal couch,
while all of Marke's men looked on,
not one of whom tried to stop it.


At this point Marjodoc awoke.
As he remembered his dream,
reviewing it all in his heart,
it troubled him very much.
He called to Tristan, to tell him
about this strange visitation,
but there was no answer.
He called once more, and again,
then ran his hand across the bed.
When he felt nothing there
and knew that Tristan was gone,
he suspected his friend at once
of surreptitious doings,
although he knew nothing at all 		13550
of his covert relationship
with the queen, for the notion
simply had never occurred to him.
Still, this gave him reason
to feel some slight annoyance
that Tristan had not shared with him,
close friends as they were,
anything of his secrets.
Marjodoc rose at once,
found his clothes and got dressed,
went very quietly to the door,
and looking about outside
found Tristan's trail in the snow.
He followed the track, which led him
at first through a small orchard.
By the moon's light he continued 
across the grass and the snow
as far as the chamber door
to which the trail plainly led.
There, unsure, he hesitated.
It disturbed him to find
that the door stood open.


For quite some time he considered
Tristan's errand, and explanations
innocent and otherwise.
First, the idea came to him
that Tristan had gone to meet
some young maid or serving girl.
That idea, very quickly,
gave way to another one,
that in coming here he sought 
none other than the queen.
Suspended in indecision,
he at last determined
to enter, very softly.
No moonlight or lamp shone within,
and the one candle burning there,
hidden behind the chessboard,
gave no light to see by.
He continued up the corridor
feeling his way with his hands
along walls and partitions
until he came to a bed
where he heard the two of them
and what they said and did there.
This discovery caused him
sore distress at heart,
secretly enamored of Isolt 
as he himself long had been.
Now his tender feelings			13600 
were mixed with pain and anger.
Toward them both at once he felt
anger and pain, pain and anger.
His mind was in turmoil—
Faced with this discovery
he could come to no decision
as to what he should do
that would be effective and proper.
Hate and pain assailed him
at the thought of what a breach
it would cause if he revealed
and made public what he knew.
He was also deterred from this
when he thought of Tristan,
a man to be feared,
who might take some vengeance.
So he withdrew and went back,
lay down in his own bed,
deeply hurt and offended.


Tristan also soon returned
and retired very quietly.
Both of them remained silent—
it was a rare occurrence 
that neither of them spoke a word,
something quite unaccustomed.
From this sudden estrangement
it seemed likely to Tristan
that his friend had suspicions 
about his liaison,
and took care from then on
to guard what he said and did
with much greater caution
that he had used before.
But alas, it was too late.
His secret had gone public,
his hidden doings were unveiled.


The envious Marjodoc
went and took the king aside,
telling him in confidence
that a rumor was circulating
about Isolt and Tristan,
much to the general displeasure
of the whole land and people.
He urged the king to investigate
and take counsel in this matter
as to what should be done—
This was something threatening
his marriage and his honor.
But he stopped short of telling him
that he knew the true story			13650
behind this rumor with certainty.
Marke in his simplicity,
always so credulous,
was taken greatly by surprise.
He much preferred not to believe
that there could be any reason
to suspect Isolt, whom he followed
as the leading star of his joy,
of any unfaithfulness.
And yet it stuck in his thoughts 
like a painful burden,
setting him on the lookout
at all times, every hour,
for any sort of evidence
that might substantiate this rumor.
What she said and what she did
he examined meticulously,
although without discovering
anything of the truth from her,
for Tristan had put her on her guard
by revealing to her what he knew
of the seneschal's suspicions.
But Marke now remained watchful,
noting every nuance and detail,
keeping it up night and day.


One night as he lay with her
making pleasant conversation
back and forth between them,
he slyly devised a snare
which he laid for the queen
and did catch her in it,
as he cunningly intended.
"My Lady," he said, "now tell me,
how do you advise in this matter?
I think to ride soon
on a pilgrimage
that may well keep me some time—
under whose care and protection
would you be all the while?"
"God's blessing," the queen exclaimed,
"what makes you ask such a thing?
Into whose hand could I be given
along with your land and people
better than your nephew's,
so capable of protecting us?
Your sister's son, Sir Tristan,
as manly as he is wise,
will do this conscientiously."


When Marke examined this reply
in his alerted state of mind,		13700
it disturbed him greatly.
Now his vigilance increased
and he kept her under closer watch
and surveillance than ever.
He confided to his seneschal
the evidence he had acquired.
The steward confirmed his mistrust—
"truly, Sire, it is so.
Now you can see for yourself
that she can scarcely restrain
the great attraction she has for him,
and it is most foolish of you
if you tolerate any of this.
As you love your wife and honor,
suffer it no longer."
All this troubled Marke deeply—
the doubt and the suspicion
he should feel toward his nephew
plagued him at every hour
as long as he had no proof
or had never caught him
in any sort of misdeed.


Isolt, unsuspecting, rejoiced.
She ran to tell Brangaene
with a happy laugh
and expression of delight
about her lord's pilgrimage
and how he had asked her
in whose care she wished to be.
"My Lady," Brangaene said,
"tell me, and don't lie to me,
so help you God, whom did you name?"
Isolt told her truthfully,
just as she had been led to do.
"Oh, how foolish," Brangaene cried.
"Why did you say such a thing?
From the way the question went
I hear plainly, it's a trap,
and well I know who laid it—
it was that envious seneschal.
They mean to trip you up with this.
You need to be on your guard—
if he brings it up again,
you must do as I tell you—
reply only thus and so . . . "
then she instructed her mistress
how to handle leading questions
devised to entrap her.


Marke continued, as before,
to be much afflicted			13750
by two painful concerns,
assailed by one and then the other,
the uncertainty and the suspicions
he had and could not deny.
About Isolt, his beloved,
he felt deep misgivings.
Of Tristan, he was uncertain,
never having recognized
any of his actions
as tending to disloyalty.
His friend Tristan, his delight Isolt,
these two disturbed him most,
constricting his heart and senses.
He suspected her and him
and was uncertain of both.
Faced with these anxieties,
he endured them as best he could,
as one must who has no choice.
Whenever he wished to enjoy
the delights of love with Isolt,
suspicion prevented pleasure.
But when he tried to investigate
and lay bare the truth,
this was denied to him
and doubt returned once more,
his plight as complex as before. 

What can interfere with love
faster than doubt and suspicion?
What narrows the mind seeking love
so uncomfortably as doubt?
The lover knows not, where he's going,
for having plainly seen or heard
some misdeed or treachery,
no sooner would he swear
that he has the truth at last
than in the twinkling of an eye
everything is reversed,
and now he sees something else
that suspends him in uncertainty,
more confused than ever.
All the world indeed may do it,
but still it is most unwise
and an even greater foolishness
to contaminate love with doubt,
for no one can enjoy a love
he is constrained to distrust.
And he does just as great an evil
who tries to turn suspicion
and confusion into certainty,
for if he should succeed		13800
in confirming every doubt,
then that which he before aspired
to see and know clearly
has become a painful thing for him,
worse than any heartbreak.
The obsessions he had started with
that at the time distracted him
now seem the better evils--
might he have them restored,
doubt and illusion at least
could make it unnecessary 
to find and face the truth.
Thus does evil foster evil
until something worse occurs.
At that point, by comparison,
evil seems much the better.
Unpleasant doubted love may be,
yet by no means so unwelcome
as not to be much preferred
to the hard truth of its opposite.
Nor can anything prevent
that love must always breed doubt.
Doubt and love belong together,
and love must learn to live with it.
As long as some doubt remains,
there is still room for improvement.
Once the full truth is known,
that's all there is to that.
And the strange thing about love
that has always brought about
disarray and confusion—
whenever things are going well,
it's never quite satisfied
and wants to run off the track.
But as soon as doubt comes in sight,
it renews its determination.
Off it goes in hot pursuit,
striving now with great persistence,
more intent on discovering
its own bitter disappointment
than on enjoying the pleasure
that it might have indulged in.
Just this perverse folly
now was consuming Marke.
Every hour of the day
he applied all his efforts
to the end of clarifying
his doubts and suspicions,
the result being, with the truth,
that what he so wished to find			13850
was to his own dismay.
He got just what he wanted.


Again, one night, it came about
that he and Marjodoc
had been inventing another plan,
another clever subterfuge
that would entrap Isolt
by a clever deception
into giving herself away.
But this time, it went astray.
The snare that he had laid for her,
intended for her downfall,
the queen herself used instead
to catch the king, her lord,
with Brangaene's advice.
Brangaene made the difference.
By tilting wit against wit,
they shared their victory.


The king, clasping his queen Isolt
very closely to his heart
and kissing her repeatedly
upon her eyes and her mouth,
murmured "my beauty, to me
nothing else is so beloved—
that I must now part from you,
God in heaven well knows
it robs me of my senses."
The queen, prepared for this,
matched guile against guile.
With a sigh, she replied,
"alas, what a bitter blow—
before, ah, I had supposed
that this misbegotten story
was nothing but a jest.
Yet now I hear, and believe,
that you do mean it in earnest."
With another sigh she commenced
to evince with tears and groans
a pitiful series of laments
and to weep so miserably
that the king, a simple man,
banished all his suspicions
and would readily have sworn
that she meant every word of it.
For women, of course, all of them,
only dissimulate so far
as when we take them at their word,
and never practice any deception
nor any other kind of falsehood
except that they know how to weep		13900
entirely unassumingly
whenever they think appropriate.
And Isolt wept unrestrainedly.


Marke, quite taken in,
said, "my beauty, tell me,
what's wrong, why are you crying?"
"Well may I cry," wailed Isolt.
—"I weep because I cannot help it.
A poor woman, far from home,
I have but one life to live
and what little sense I may possess—
both of these I have devoted
to you because you love me,
and this so fills my mind
that I can think of nothing else
or care for anything but you.
You are all that I hold dear,
and still I know, oh, too well
that you are not so fond of me
as you say and pretend to be.
Now you take it into your head
to go away and abandon me
here in this foreign land—
I can see, plainly enough,
I don't mean anything to you.
Never shall my heart and mind
know any happiness again."

"How so, my beauty?" he countered,
"here you have at your command
both this land and its people—
they are yours as much as mine.
Now take charge of all
that is rightly yours to rule—
what you decree shall be done.
As long as I remain away,
there are those well qualified,
obliged to serve and care for you—
my courtly nephew, Tristan,
is circumspect and wise.
He will make every effort
to comfort you and increase
both your honor and your pleasure.
He has my trust and confidence,
and well he has deserved it.
He esteems you as he does me—
he will do it for both of us."

"Sir Tristan?" snapped Isolt. 
"Sooner would I be dead
and buried in my grave
than consent to put myself			13950
under his supervision.
That sneaking eavesdropper—
every time I turn around
there he's sidling up to me,
always flattering and declaring
how much I mean to him.
But God knows, and so do I,
how seriously he means it.
And I know something else—
he's the one who killed my uncle,
and therefore he's afraid of me.
That is the real reason
he's always being nice to me,
prowling around and flattering,
making an empty show of it,
all the while thinking and hoping
to curry my favor with this act.
It isn't getting him anywhere—
all his blandishments don't help.
And God knows, except for you—
for your sake, and yours alone,
certainly not because I want to,
I try to be kind to him,
but otherwise, so help me,
I'd rather not set eyes on him.
But since I can't properly avoid
seeing him and speaking,
when I do so, I take care
not to put my heart in it
or take any of it seriously.
I don't deny that many times
and on various occasions
I have given him my attention,
but always with empty looks
and not meaning what I said,
just to avoid any reproach.
People always say about women
that we don't like our husband's friends.
That was reason enough for me
sometimes to make eyes at him,
to fritter the afternoon away
with a lot of silly banter
until he would have sworn
that I meant it all seriously.
Sire, think nothing of all that.
Your nephew, this Sir Tristan,
will not do as my guardian.
If you permit me a request—
you yourself, on your journey
shall oversee me, if you command.		14000
For what you will, I will also,
if you alone do not forbid it,
unless death should take me first." 

Thus fabeled the fabulous Isolt
to her sovereign and husband
until she had made his doubts and ire
seem no more than a fable,
and he would readily have sworn
that she spoke fully in earnest.
Marke the king of doubt
had found the path again.
His consort knew how to dispell
his doubts and imaginings—
whatever she had said or done
was all, he saw, quite in order.
The king at once repeated
to the seneschal in detail,
as best he could remember,
her answers and explanation,
declaring that he had found
no evidence of deceit.


At this the seneschal
was sorely disappointed, 
but he kept devising plans
and taught the king another trick
with which to test Isolt.
That night Marke lay again
making pillow talk with Isolt.
Again he used a question
to set a clever trap for her,
and managed to catch her once more.
"My Lady and Queen," he began,
"there is serious business at hand.
Now let me see and judge
how a woman can run a country.
My Lady, I must go abroad
and leave you in charge here
among the many friends I have.
Be it beholden, be it kin,
whoever owes me anything,
is equally obliged to you,
to whatever extent you may wish.
If any are not congenial
or earn displeasure in your sight,
an attendant, a lady, or man,
you can send them all packing.
You shall neither see nor hear
anything disagreeable
as to persons or possessions
that might disturb your composure.		14050
Nor will I show any favor
either from my heart or mind
toward anyone you dislike,
and this I tell you in all truth.
Be always carefree and happy,
live, as you desire to live,
and you will have my full support.
My nephew Tristan, I well know,
does not enjoy your good graces—
very soon I will depart
from this court and company,
as soon as I find occasion.
Then he is off to Parmenie
to take his own affairs in hand.
He must.  His country needs him."


"Mercy, Sire," Isolt replied,
"well you speak, and truly.
You give me now to understand
that you regard with displeasure
anything that might trouble me.
To me it therefore seems proper
that I should also consent
and yield as far as possible
to whatever is good in your eyes
and accords with your pleasure,
and that I help to advance
whatever prefers your honor
late, early, and always.
But watch, My Lord, what you do—
I neither advise nor desire
that at any time, now or ever,
you should expel your nephew
from your court or your presence,
because then I would be dishonored.
There would be talk at once
abroad in this court and country
that I had put you up to this
just to settle the old score
of his having killed my uncle.
There would be all sorts of talk,
none of it to my credit,
nor to your honor either.
Never will I agree
that just because of me
you should abandon an ally
or otherwise be opposed
to anyone in your favor
only because I might wish it.
And you should also think of this—
if you are gone for some time,			14100
who will govern in your stead?
Your holdings will not lie
securely in a woman's hand.
Whoever has to rule two kingdoms
with full justice and honor
must be strong in heart and mind.
Where is there, in your lands,
other than my Sir Tristan
any lord, if you empower him,
who could so manage your estate?
There is no one else
whose orders would be obeyed.
And what if we are attacked?
You know that is a constant concern
against which vigilance is needed.
It could very well occur
that we might get the worst of it—
then I would hear about Tristan
nothing but malicious reproach,
and not be allowed to forget it.
All we'd hear, from every quarter—
'if only Tristan had been with us,
things would never have gone so wrong
as now, you see, they have.'
And then our whole people
would blame it all on me
unanimously
that I cost him your trust
to your and their regret.
Sire, better let the matter rest.
Reconsider what's at stake,
taking in all the details.
Either let me go with you
or put your realm in his command.
Although my heart may be against him,
I would rather leave him in charge
than some unreliable vassal
who might fail to do the job."


From this the king concluded
that she had set all her heart
on promoting Tristan's honor,
and soon fell victim once again
to his old doubts and suspicions.
These so upset and disturbed him
that he sank deeper than before
into the bitterness of rage.
Once more, Isolt told Brangaene
all that had passed between them,
filling in every detail
without omitting a single word.			14150
Again Brangaene was distressed
at what her mistress had said
and how the interchange had gone.
Once more she briefed her thoroughly
on what to say to the king.
That night, when the queen again
came to sleep with her lord,
she took him into her embrace.
She fondled him, she kissed him,
she clasped him tightly to her body,
against her soft, tender breasts,
taking up, as she did so,
once more their subtle duel of words
with probing questionings and answers.
"Sire," she murmured, "now tell me,
for my sake—have you yet
finally determined your plans
and what you intend to do
about Sir Tristan, as you said,
that you would send him away,
to his own country for my sake?
If I could be sure of this,
I would be so grateful to you
today and all the rest of my days.
Sire, I believe what you say
as well I may and ought to,
but in this case I'm afraid
you only meant to tempt me.
If I could know certainly,
as you have promised before,
that you mean to remove everything
which might cause me displeasure,
then I would at last be sure
that you do indeed love me.
I would have appealed to you
in this matter long before,
but I didn't really want to,
because I know very well
what I can expect from Tristan
if subjected to his mercies.
Consider, Sire, all of this
not just because of my aversion—
if he is left in charge here
for the whole time you are away
and something should befall you
as does happen on long journeys,
he'll snatch away my land and honor.
Surely now you understand
what a danger he is to me.
Look kindly on my situation			14200
as one should who wishes me well	
and rid me of this Sir Tristan—
in that you will be acting wisely.
Send him back to his country
or arrange for him to go with you
and let your steward Marjodoc
care for me in your absence.
But if you should set your mind
on taking me when you leave,
then I care not who governs here—
anyone who wants the job,
as long as I may go with you.
But you must do as you see fit
in this affair and all others,
with me and with your subject lands.
This is my wish and my desire.
My one concern in all of this
is that I conform to your will—
I leave it all in your hands,
both your country and your people."
She kept up her blandishments
until at last she convinced her lord
to renounce all his nagging doubts
and turn his back on his suspicions
of her intentions and her love,
once again finding her
altogether innocent
of any impropriety.
As to his steward Marjodoc,
the king now considered him
no better than a liar,
although it was he
alone among them all
who had told him the truth.