The Treachery Of King Mark


The story of Tristram's valorous deeds, and of the high honor in which

he was held at Camelot, in good time came to Cornwall, where it filled

King Mark's soul with revengeful fury, and stirred the heart of La Belle

Isolde to the warmest love. The coward king, indeed, in his jealous

hatred of his nephew, set out in disguise for England, with murderous

designs against Tristram should an opportunity occur.



M
ny things happened to him there, and he was brought into deep

disgrace, but the story of his adventures may be passed over in brief

review, lest the reader should find it wearisome.



Not far had he ridden on English soil before he met with Dinadan, who,

in his jesting humor, soon played him a merry trick. For he arrayed

Dagonet, the king's fool, in a suit of armor, which he made Mark believe

was Lancelot's. Thus prepared, Dagonet rode to meet him and challenged

him to a joust. But King Mark, on seeing what he fancied was Lancelot's

shield, turned and fled at headlong speed, followed by the fool and his

comrades with hunting cries and laughter till the forest rang with the

noise.



Escaping at length from this merry chase, the trembling dastard made his

way to Camelot, where he hoped some chance would arise to aid him in his

murderous designs on Tristram. But a knight of his own train, named Sir

Amant, had arrived there before him, and accused him of treason to the

king, without telling who he was.



"This is a charge that must be settled by wager of battle," said King

Arthur. "The quarrel is between you; you must decide it with sword and

spear."



In the battle that followed, Sir Amant, by unlucky fortune, was run

through, and fell from his horse with a mortal wound.



"Heaven has decided in my favor," cried King Mark. "But here I shall no

longer stay, for it does not seem a safe harbor for honest knights."



He thereupon rode away, fearing that Dinadan would reveal his name. Yet

not far had he gone before Lancelot came in furious haste after him.






"Turn again, thou recreant king and knight," he loudly called. "To

Arthur's court you must return, whether it is your will or not. We know

you, villain. Sir Amant has told your name and purpose; and, by my

faith, I am strongly moved to kill you on the spot."



"Fair sir," asked King Mark, "what is your name?"



"My name is Lancelot du Lake. Defend yourself, dog and dastard."



On hearing this dreaded name, and seeing Lancelot riding upon him with

spear in rest, King Mark tumbled like a sack of grain from his saddle to

the earth, crying in terror, "I yield me, Sir Lancelot! I yield me!" and

begging piteously for mercy.



"Thou villain!" thundered Lancelot, "I would give much to deal thee one

buffet for the love of Tristram and Isolde. Mount, dog, and follow me."



Mark hastened to obey, and was thus brought like a slave back to

Arthur's court, where he made such prayers and promises that in the end

the king forgave him, but only on condition that he would enter into

accord with Tristram, and remove from him the sentence of banishment.

All this King Mark volubly promised and swore to abide by, though a

false heart underlay his fair words. But Tristram gladly accepted the

proffered truce with his old enemy, for his heart burned with desire to

see his lady love again.



Soon afterwards Dinadan, with Dagonet and his companions, came to court,

and great was the laughter and jesting at King Mark when they told the

story of his flight from Arthur's fool.



"This is all very well for you stay-at-homes," cried Mark; "but even a

fool in Lancelot's armor is not to be played with. As it was, Dagonet

paid for his masquerade, for he met a knight who brought him like a log

to the ground, and all these laughing fellows with him."



"Who was that?" asked King Arthur.



"I can tell you," said Dinadan. "It was Sir Palamides. I followed him

through the forest, and a lively time we had in company."



"Aha! then you have had adventures."



"Rare ones. We met a knight before Morgan le Fay's castle. You know the

custom there, to let no knight pass without a hard fight for it. This

stranger made havoc with the custom, for he overthrew ten of your

sister's knights, and killed some of them. He afterwards tilted with

Palamides for offering to help him, and gave that doughty fellow a sore

wound."



"Who was this mighty champion? Not Lancelot or Tristram?" asked the

king, looking around.



"On our faith we had no hand in it," they both answered.



"It was the knight next to them in renown," answered Dinadan.



"Lamorak of Wales?"



"No less. And, my faith, a sturdy fellow he is. I left him and Palamides

the best of friends."



"I hope, then, to see the pair of them at next week's tournament," said

the king.



Alas for Lamorak! Better for him far had he kept away from that

tournament. His gallant career was near its end, for treachery and

hatred were soon to seal his fate. This sorrowful story it is now our

sad duty to tell.



Lamorak had long loved Margause, the queen of Orkney, Arthur's sister

and the mother of Gawaine and his brethren. For this they hated him, and

with treacherous intent invited their mother to a castle near Camelot,

as a lure to her lover. Soon after the tournament, at which Lamorak won

the prize of valor, and redoubled the hatred of Gawaine and his brothers

by overcoming them in the fray, word was brought to the victorious

knight that Margause was near at hand and wished to see him.



With a lover's ardor, he hastened to the castle where she was, but, as

they sat in the queen's apartment in conversation, the door was suddenly

flung open, and Gaheris, one of the murderous brethren, burst in, full

armed and with a naked sword in his hand. Rushing in fury on the

unsuspecting lovers, with one dreadful blow he struck off his mother's

head, crimsoning Lamorak with her blood. He next assailed Lamorak, who,

being unarmed, was forced to fly for his life, and barely escaped.



The tidings of this dread affair filled the land with dismay, and many

of the good knights of Arthur's court threatened reprisal. Arthur

himself was full of wrath at the death of his sister. Yet those were

days when law ruled not, but force was master, and retribution only came

from the strong hand and the ready sword. This was Lamorak's quarrel,

and the king, though he vowed to protect him from his foes, declared

that the good knight of Wales must seek retribution with his own hand.



He gained death, alas! instead of revenge, for his foes proved too

vigilant for him, and overcame him by vile treachery. Watching his

movements, they lay in ambush for him at a difficult place, and as he

was passing, unsuspicious of danger, they set suddenly upon him, slew

his horse, and assailed him on foot.



Gawaine, Mordred, and Gaheris formed this ambush, for the noble-minded

Gareth had refused to take part in their murderous plot; and with

desperate fury they assaulted the noble Welsh knight, who, for three

hours, defended himself against their utmost strength. But at the last

Mordred dealt him a death-blow from behind, and when he fell in death

the three murders hewed him with their swords till scarce a trace of the

human form was left.



Thus perished one of the noblest of Arthur's knights, and thus was done

one of the most villanous deeds of blood ever known in those days of

chivalrous war.



Before the death of Lamorak another event happened at Arthur's court

which must here be told, for it was marvellous in itself, and had in it

the promise of wondrous future deeds.



One day there came to the court at Camelot a knight attended by a young

squire. When he had disarmed he went to the king and asked him to give

the honor of knighthood to his squire.



"What claim has he to it?" asked the king. "Of what lineage is he?"



"He is the youngest son of King Pellinore, and brother to Sir Lamorak.

He is my brother also; for my name is Aglavale, and I am of the same

descent."



"What is his name?"



"Percivale."



"Then for my love of Lamorak, and the love I bore your father, he shall

be made a knight to-morrow."



So when the morrow dawned, the king ordered that the youth should be

brought into the great hall, and there he knighted him, dealing him the

accolade with his good sword Excalibur.



And so the day passed on till the dinner-hour, when the king seated

himself at the head of the table, while down its sides were many knights

of prowess and renown. Percivale, the new-made knight, was given a seat

among the squires and the untried knights, who sat at the lower end of

the great dining-table.



But in the midst of their dinner an event of great strangeness occurred.

For there came into the hall one of the queen's maidens, who was of high

birth, but who had been born dumb, and in all her life had spoken no

word. Straight across the hall she walked, while all gazed at her in

mute surprise, till she came to where Percivale sat. Then she took him

by the hand, and spoke in a voice that rang through the hall with the

clearness of a trumpet,--



"Arise, Sir Percivale, thou noble knight and warrior of God's own

choosing. Arise and come with me."



He rose in deep surprise, while all the others sat in dumb wonder at

this miracle. To the Round Table she led him, and to the right side of

the seat perilous, in which no knight had hitherto dared to sit.



"Fair knight, take here your seat;" she said. "This seat belongs to you,

and to none other, and shall be yours until a greater than you shall

come."



This said, she departed and asked for a priest. Then was she confessed

and given the sacrament, and forthwith died. But the king and all his

court gazed with wonder on Sir Percivale, and asked themselves what all

this meant, and for what great career God had picked out this youthful

knight, for such a miracle no man there had ever seen before.



Meanwhile, King Mark had gone back to Cornwall, and with him went Sir

Tristram, at King Arthur's request, though not till Arthur had made the

Cornish king swear on Holy Scripture to do his guest no harm, but hold

him in honor and esteem.



Lancelot, however, was full of dread and anger when he heard what had

occurred, and he told King Mark plainly that if he did mischief to Sir

Tristram he would slay him with his own hands.



"Bear this well in mind, sir king," he said, "for I have a way of

keeping my word."



"I have sworn before King Arthur to treat him honorably," answered Mark.

"I, too, have a way of keeping my word."



"A way, I doubt not," said Lancelot, scornfully; "but not my way. Your

reputation for truth needs mending. And all men know for what you came

into this country. Therefore, take heed what you do."



Then Mark and Tristram departed, and soon after they reached Cornwall a

damsel was sent to Camelot with news of their safe arrival, and bearing

letters from Tristram to Arthur and Lancelot. These they answered and

sent the damsel back, the burden of Lancelot's letter being, "Beware of

King Fox, for his ways are ways of wiles."



They also sent letters to King Mark, threatening him if he should do

aught to Tristram's injury. These letters worked harm only, for they

roused the evil spirit in the Cornish king's soul, stirring him up to

anger and thirst for revenge. He thereupon wrote to Arthur, bidding him

to meddle with his own concerns, and to take heed to his wife and his

knights, which would give him work enough to do. As for Sir Tristram, he

said that he held him to be his mortal enemy.



He wrote also to Queen Guenever, his letter being full of shameful

charges of illicit relations with Sir Lancelot, and dishonor to her

lord, the king. Full of wrath at these vile charges, Guenever took the

letter to Lancelot, who was half beside himself with anger on reading

it.



"You cannot get at him to make him eat his words," said Dinadan, whom

Lancelot took into his confidence. "And if you seek to bring him to

terms with pen and ink, you will find that his villany will get the

better of your honesty. Yet there are other ways of dealing with

cowardly curs. Leave him to me; I will make him wince. I will write a

mocking lay of King Mark and his doings, and will send a harper to sing

it before him at his court. When this noble king has heard my song I

fancy he will admit that there are other ways of gaining revenge besides

writing scurrilous letters."



A stinging lay, indeed, was that which Dinadan composed. When done he

taught it to a harper named Eliot, who in his turn taught it to other

harpers, and these, by the orders of Arthur and Lancelot, went into

Wales and Cornwall to sing it everywhere.



Meanwhile King Mark's crown had been in great danger. For his country

had been invaded by an army from Session, led by a noted warrior named

Elias, who drove the forces of Cornwall from the field and besieged the

king in his castle of Tintagil. And now Tristram came nobly to the

rescue. At the head of the Cornish forces he drove back the besiegers

with heavy loss, and challenged Elias to a single combat to end the war.

The challenge was accepted, and a long and furious combat followed, but

in the end Elias was slain, and the remnant of his army forced to

surrender.



This great service added to the seeming accord between Tristram and the

king, but in his heart Mark nursed all his old bitterness, and hated him

the more that he had helped him. His secret fury soon found occasion to

flame to the surface. For at the feast which was given in honor of the

victory, Eliot, the harper, appeared, and sang before the king and his

lords the lay that Dinadan had made.



This was so full of ridicule and scorn of King Mark that he leaped from

his seat in a fury of wrath before the harper had half finished.



"Thou villanous twanger of strings!" he cried. "What hound sent you into

this land to insult me with your scurrilous songs?"



"I am a minstrel," said Eliot, "and must obey the orders of my lord.

Sir Dinadan made this song, if you would know, and bade me sing it

here."



"That jesting fool!" cried Mark, in wrath. "As for you, fellow, you

shall go free through minstrels' license. But if you lose any time in

getting out of this country you may find that Cornish air is not good

for you."



The harper took this advice and hastened away, bearing letters from

Tristram to Lancelot and Dinadan. But King Mark turned the weight of his

anger against Tristram, whom he believed had instigated this insult,

with the design to set all the nobles of his own court laughing at him.

And well he knew that the villanous lay would be sung throughout the

land, and that he would be made the jest of all the kingdom.



"They have their sport now," he said. "Mine will come. Tristram of

Lyonesse shall pay dearly for this insult. And all that hold with him

shall learn that King Mark of Cornwall is no child's bauble to be played

with."



The evil-minded king was not long in putting his project in execution.

At a tournament which was held soon afterwards Tristram was badly

wounded, and King Mark, with great show of sorrow, had him borne to a

castle near by, where he took him under his own care as nurse and leech.



Here he gave him a sleeping draught, and had him borne while slumbering

to another castle, where he was placed in a strong prison cell, under

the charge of stern keepers.



The disappearance of Tristram made a great stir in the kingdom. La Belle

Isolde, fearing treachery, went to a faithful knight named Sir Sadok,

and begged him to try and discover what had become of the missing

knight. Sadok set himself diligently to work; and soon learned that

Tristram was held captive in the castle of Lyonesse. Then he went to

Dinas, the seneschal, and others, and told them what had been done, at

which they broke into open rebellion against King Mark, and took

possession of all the towns and castles in the country of Lyonesse,

filling them with their followers.



But while the rebellious army was preparing to march on Tintagil, and

force King Mark to set free his prisoner, Tristram was delivered by the

young knight Sir Percivale, who had come thither in search of

adventures, and had heard of King Mark's base deed. Great was the joy

between these noble knights, and Tristram said,--



"Will you abide in these marches, Sir Percivale? If so, I will keep you

company."



"Nay, dear friend, I cannot tarry here. Duty calls me into Wales."



But before leaving Cornwall he went to King Mark, told him what he had

done, and threatened him with the revenge of all honorable knights if he

sought again to injure his noble nephew.



"What would you have me do?" asked the king. "Shall I harbor a man who

openly makes love to my wife and queen?"



"Is there any shame in a nephew showing an open affection for his

uncle's wife?" asked Percivale. "No man will dare say that so noble a

warrior as Sir Tristram would go beyond the borders of sinless love, or

will dare accuse the virtuous lady La Belle Isolde of lack of chastity.

You have let jealousy run away with your wisdom, King Mark."



So saying, he departed; but his words had little effect on King Mark's

mind. No sooner had Percivale gone than he began new devices to gratify

his hatred of his nephew. He sent word to Dinas, the seneschal, under

oath, that he intended to go to the Pope and join the war against the

infidel Saracens, which he looked upon as a nobler service than that of

raising the people against their lawful king.



So earnest were his professions that Dinas believed him and dismissed

his forces, but no sooner was this done than King Mark set aside his

oath and had Tristram again privately seized and imprisoned.



This new outrage filled the whole realm with tumult and rebellious

feeling. La Belle Isolde was at first thrown into the deepest grief, and

then her heart swelled high with resolution to live no longer with the

dastard who called her wife. Tristram at the same time privately sent

her a letter, advising her to leave the court of her villanous lord, and

offering to go with her to Arthur's realm, if she would have a vessel

privately made ready.



The queen thereupon had an interview with Dinas and Sadok, and begged

them to seize and imprison the king, since she was resolved to escape

from his power.



Furious at the fox-like treachery of the king, these knights did as

requested, for they formed a plot by which Mark was privately seized,

and they imprisoned him secretly in a strong dungeon. At the same time

Tristram was delivered, and soon sailed openly away from Cornwall with

La Belle Isolde, gladly shaking the dust of that realm of treachery from

his feet.



In due time the vessel touched shore in King Arthur's dominions, and

gladly throbbed the heart of the long-unhappy queen as her feet touched

that free and friendly soil. As for Tristram, never was lover fuller of

joy, and life seemed to him to have just begun.



Not long had they landed when a knightly chance brought Lancelot into

their company. Warm indeed was the greeting of those two noble

companions, and glad the welcome which Lancelot gave Isolde to English

soil.



"You have done well," he said, "to fly from that wolf's den. There is no

noble knight in the world but hates King Mark and will honor you for

leaving his palace of vile devices. Come with me, you shall be housed at

my expense."



Then he rode with them to his own castle of Joyous Gard, a noble

stronghold which he had won with his own hands. A royal castle it was,

garnished and provided with a richness which no king or queen could

surpass. Here Lancelot bade them use everything as their own, and

charged all his people to love and honor them as they would himself.



"Joyous Gard is yours as long as you will honor it by making it your

home," he said. "As for me, I can have no greater joy than to know that

my castle is so nobly tenanted, and that Tristram of Lyonesse and Queen

Isolde are my honored guests."



Leaving them, Lancelot rode to Camelot, where he told Arthur and

Guenever of what had happened, much to their joy and delight.



"By my crown," cried Arthur, joyfully, "the coming of Tristram and

Isolde to my realm is no everyday event, and is worthy of the highest

honor. We must signalize it with a noble tournament."



Then he gave orders that a stately passage-at-arms should be held on

May-day at the castle of Lonazep, which was near Joyous Gard. And word

was sent far and near that the knights of his own realm of Logris, with

those of Cornwall and North Wales, would be pitted against those of the

rest of England, of Ireland and Scotland, and of lands beyond the seas.



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