Chapter 2-From Ireland to Cornwall

Tristan knocked twice on the door of the captain’s cabin and then stepped back to wait. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon as the crew scurried around the ships, preparing to set sail. He still had yet to discover Balek’s whereabouts and he wondered if he had greatly angered the man the night before. He was about to knock again when the door opened slightly and Hannah’s head appeared in the crack.

“What is it, Lord Prince?”

“Tell your mistress that she has a visitor and that he is quite anxious to see her.”

“Of course. I will give her the message.” She pulled her head back in the door and shut it with a quiet thud.

Tristan turned from the door and looked down at Hodain. “Let’s go find Balek, boy.” At his words, Hodain began sniffing the deck for the man’s familiar scent. Tristan followed him absentmindedly as they descended below deck. Soon they came to the storeroom and Hodain scratched at the door.

“What? Who’s there?” he heard Balek call out.

“Good job, Hodain,” Tristan congratulated him quietly. Then he opened the door and looked in.

Balek was sprawled over the stacks of blankets kept on board for the colder days and bottles once full of enough rum for several men to have multiple servings lat scattered around the room, many of them broken. One of them was still clutched tightly in his hand. Tristan walked into the room, and, straining under the weight, lifted Balek from his spot and took him out then dropped him into the nearest hammock. Then he took the bottle and Balek’s keys, returned the bottle and locked the storeroom. After that he returned to the deck and glanced around. On the dock, Isuelt was talking to her father in what looked to be a heated discussion. Several crew members moved around them, loading his horse, a horse he assumed to be Isuelt’s, and the other horses that had been brought by his guard on the other ships. The rest of the crew had already hoisted the sails and now they all waited for the command to raise anchor and set out. Isuelt gave one last, frustrated motion and then turned and ran onto the ship.

“Raise anchor!” Tristan yelled and the message was relayed to the other ships.

The crew hurried around to do as he said and collect the gangplanks. As Tristan watched the lone man standing on the dock, he felt a twinge of pity for him. He had lost his son-in-law and daughter all in one day and by Tristan’s hand too. He thought over Balek’s plan once more and it suddenly became very appealing. Oh, what he would do to be out from under his uncle’s thumb and be able to soar free like an eagle in the skies. A slamming door interrupted his thoughts and he turned towards the sound. It had been Isuelt who had slammed the door to the captain’s cabin and Hannah was standing outside of it, trying to get her to admit her. He signed, ambled over, and, to Hannah’s astonishment, opened the door and walked in. Isuelt was lying on the bed in the far corner of the room with her face buried in a pillow.

“Go away,” came her muffled voice.

Tristan stopped where he was but he didn’t leave the room.

“I said go away!” she said as she sat up and threw her pillow at Tristan.

He caught it one hand and then dropped his arm to his side.

She looked over at whom she had attacked and then smiled nervously. “Sorry, Tristan,” she said in a quiet voice.

He nodded and remained silent, holding the pillow tightly in his hand.

“Here, I’ll take that,” she said as she stood and walked towards him, her hand outstretched for the pillow.

He handed it to her, a smile beginning to form on his lips. “You have quite a temper.”

“Only towards those who vex me,” she said as she took her pillow from him and returned it to its place.

“Would this vex you?” he asked as he grabbed her arm, pulled her close to him then kissed her softly on the cheek.

She pulled away from him, looking shocked and surprised while slightly blushing. “Some men would call you bold, but I call you a fool.”

“A fool? Why would you call me that, fair maiden?”

“For whether I wish it or not, my heart belongs to your uncle now, not you.” 

“But, as long as you are on my ship, I will pretend that that you are mine and that your heart is all mine.”

“That is not the way I would have it.”

“But which way would you rather have it?”

“I would have it that I would be able to choose whomever I wished to love and to wed. I would not have it decided on the point of a sword.”

“So you would a prefer a bard.”

“I did not say that!”

“Then speak more clearly.”

“Tristan De Lyoness, you vex me greatly.”

“Thank you. It was my intention all along.”

She shook her head and then burst out laughing. Tristan shot her a questioning look as her fit of laughter continued for about five minutes before she took a deep breath and managed to calm herself. “Thank you, I needed to get my mind off other things.”

“You are quite welcome. But I must ask, what was so funny.”

“Oh nothing. What you said just reminded me of a childhood memory of which I am very fond.”

He nodded and then looked back at the closed door. “Well, I shall leave you at the good graces of your impatient and most likely severely vehement handmaiden. Good day, My Lady.” He and Hodain bowed and then left the room.

“Thank you, Prince Tristan. She needed a good laugh,” Hannah said to him when he walked out.

He nodded. “You might want to rejoin her before she once again becomes cranky.”

“Yes, we would not want that, would we…” she let her words drift off as she opened the door and walked in.

Tristan turned and found that Balek was stumbling upon the deck, blinking in the bright sunlight. He appeared to be suffering from a hangover more than anything but he also looked as though he were searching for something he had lost. Tristan knew exactly what that was. He walked over to the man, reached into his pouch and drew the keys out. “Looking for these?” he asked, jingling them slightly.

“Oh, Tristan, do not go scaring me like that,” he said as he reached out and took the keys.

“I am sorry, my friend. I was merely protecting you from yourself.”

“I can take good care of myself, thank you.” He scowled at the boy and Tristan shrugged.

“Consuming large amounts of rum is not what I would call responsible, Balek.”

Balek muttered something under his breath and Tristan was sure it was a curse directed at him.

“I expect my captains to know responsibility better than anyone and you should know that. I would hate to have to reliever you of your command. You are one of my dearest friends.” He put his hand on Balek’s shoulder but the man shrugged it off.

“Let us not talk of this unhappy business anymore. I am sorry to have lost such control of myself last night.”

“All is forgiven.”

“Ah, ‘tis a beautiful day to be out at sea, is it not?”

“It is, my friend.”

“Shall we go and check on our men?”

“That would be a fine thing to do.”

For the next hour or so they went and talked to every crew member individually, asking about their health and how their families fared. Each answer was a positive one and each had a story to tell about a son or daughter being wed, or a child learning to speak his first words or take his first steps. When they had finished this task, they went to the storeroom and cleaned up the broken glass. They put the glass in a burlap sack that they would dispose of at the next port they stopped in. Then they headed back onto the deck to see what else they could find to do. They continued on for about twenty-eight days before they put into port in what would now be modern day Lisbon, Portugal. The city near the port was rough and crowded so only Tristan, Balek and half a dozen crew members went ashore, all on their noble horses. But then Isuelt insisted that she be allowed on land once more, for if not, as she put it, she said she would go insane from the constant tossing of the ocean. So two more horses, one being Isuelt’s from Ireland, the other a small, yet powerful pony for Hannah, were brought off the ships in two rowboats and the two ladies were brought in another. At the gate of the city, they were met by twenty members of the Roman cavalry, the commander of which insisted that he escort the prince and princess around the city.

“Please,” Tristan said once more, trying hard not to let his anger show through, “we do not wish to attract attention. I merely need to pick something up for my uncle from a herbalist and then we shall return to our ships and continue on our way.” Hodain growled and his horse stamped impatiently.

“And we understand this, Your Majesty, but you are the son of one of the Pope’s former godchildren and he insists that we ensure your safety at all times,” answered the man who called himself the commander.

“Where have you been for the past three years?” he muttered as the man went on and on about the importance of Tristan’s safety. Fed up, Tristan held up his hand and the man fell silent. “Fine. You and your men may accompany us.”

The silent glee on the man’s face disgusted Tristan but he knew it to be the only way for peace while they were here. And so they entered the city, riding in twos in order to make it through the crowded streets. Tristan and Isuelt rode in the front; behind them rode Balek and Hannah, and then the crew in three rows and then the Romans in ten rows. All of it, to Tristan, seemed to be a silent declaration of their arrival.

“Why did you let him have his way?” Isuelt asked.

“Who? The commander?”

“Yes. Who else would I be speaking of? If it had been me, I would have told him that a no is a no and that I would not be disobeyed. Then I would have ridden away.”

“And he would have come after you, shouting at you to stop and be reasonable. The Romans are far different than the Irishmen and they take orders to be orders and no one but the Pope can tell them otherwise. You may as well get used to it because that is what it is like here in Rome.”

“Why do you have to be so difficult?” She stamped her foot in the stir-up, making the horse bolt slightly.

Tristan leaned over and calmed the animal then looked sternly at Isuelt. “You really out to control your anger. Maybe my uncle can teach you.”

They rode in silence from then on, pushing their way deeper and deeper into the city until they came to the poorest part of the metropolis. The buildings were shabby and run-down and there was a putrid smell in the air. They came to the neatest of the buildings and Tristan pulled his Friesian to a stop. “All of you wait here.”

They all nodded except Isuelt. “I am going with you.” She dismounted.

“And why, if I may ask, do you feel the need to?”

“Because someone has to keep me in check.” She walked into the shop and Tristan shook his head and followed her.

The moment he came in, he was overwhelmed with the scents of rose and jasmine. The building was cleaner than he remembered and on just about every surface was piled with books bowls, and candles. At the center of the room was a square table at which sat Isabella. She was a woman well in her forties with graying hair and wrinkles beginning to form on her face. She wore a black dress made of wool and her red hair was bound behind her and on each of her fingers she wore a ring of great value. On their way to Ireland, they had stopped here to deliver a letter from Marc to Isabella. Marc had told Tristan that on the way back to Cornwall to return to the herbalist’s shop saying that she would have something for Tristan to bring to him.

“Come, Tristan; sit,” she ordered more than asked.

Tristan and Isuelt moved to do as she said. Tristan sat down across from her and Isuelt sat down on her right.

“My uncle said you-”

“Shh, not now, little prince.” She held up her hand and then handed each of them a glass of milk. “Please, drink.”

“But my uncle-”

“Drink. We’ll talk of this later.”

Tristan shook his head and then raised the glass to his lips. The milk was warm as it slid down his throat and suddenly his head began to throb. He dropped the glass, shattering it, and then looked over at Isuelt. She seemed to be experiencing the same thing. “What did you put in that?” Tristan rubbed his head as Hodain whined. Tristan looked down at him and saw that he had lapped up the remaining milk off the floor.

“Just one of my herbal mixtures. Do not worry. The ache in your had should pass in a moment.”

Tristan didn’t believe it would ever pass but it soon did. He looked over at Isuelt and she suddenly seemed more beautiful than anything he had ever seen on the face of the earth. He shook himself, trying to rid himself of the forbidden feelings. But they refused to go, pushing their way into his very being. “Isabella, what did you do?” His head began to fill with memories of things he had never done with Isuelt and he began to grow desperate. “Why is this happening?”

Isabella ignored his questions and instead handed him a folded parchment. “Make sure your uncle gets this.” Then she stood and ambled off.

Tristan’s pulse quickened and his breathing became labored as he began to panic. He felt a warm, comforting hand on his and he began to calm down.

“Tristan, sweet, relax. Everything will be fine. Your uncle need not know of the forbidden love we have.”

He looked at her. “We would be living a lie.”

“A necessary lie, my love. Now come, Balek and Hannah are waiting for us.” She kissed him softly and then stood to her feet. She grabbed him by the arm and then pulled him to the door. “They do not know and they never need know,” she said, indicating to those outside. “Among those on the ship, when we are not in a place of privacy, we shall only be friends.” She let go of his hand and the feeling of something being desperately wrong returned only now he could not tell what it was.

He opened the door and they stepped back out into the sun. But the sun, and everything around him, compared to Isuelt’s radiance, seemed dull. He pulled himself into the saddle and he heard Balek’s voice, though it seemed far away.

“Is everything finished here?”

“Yes, Balek. Let us return to our ships.”

 

*          *          *

 

Tristan looked quizzically down at his journal. It spoke of quiet days at sea since leaving Ireland and nothing of Isuelt. Sipping his quill in a jar of ink, he began to pen a new entry.

 

 

 

“It has been nearly two months since we left Ireland with the lovely Isuelt and her handmaiden in our company. I know that every entry before this one contradicts this, but I believe that I was too overwhelmed by my love for Isuelt that I forgot to mention it. My love for her grows everyday but I cannot help thinking there is something terribly wrong with all of this. If Uncle Marc were to find out about this, I would be in a terrible amount of trouble. I can only begin to imagine what he would do to me…

We should into port in Cornwall in two days if the weather is fair and if the winds favor us. I cannot not wait to be on solid land once more. I swear I shall not leave it again if at all possible. Hannah and Balek have been acting quite strange lately. They hold counsel together during many hours of the day, whispering to each other in concerned tones. Perhaps Balek has found himself one to love as well. I would not be able to tell. I have always been bad at discovering other’s secrets. Hodain is beginning to feel the ache of being too long at sea as well. He whines and paces the deck of the ship when I am otherwise occupied. To be on solid land again will do him more good than I can say. How I wish I had known mother. I would be able to tell her my troubles and she would have found me a way out of this situation. But then again, if she were still alive, I would not be right here right now for it would mean that Lyoness would still be under the rule of a fair patriarch. Lyoness will be better off when I am finally crowned, of that, there is no doubt.”

He shut the book and put down his quill. With his mind only centered on Isuelt, he had not bothered to write in his journal for nearly a month. He heard her footsteps behind him and then felt her arms around his neck.

 

“I love you, Tristan De Lyoness. Do not ever forget that.”

“I will not, my sweet. I will not.”

 

*          *          *

 

Hannah walked over to Balek and slipped Isabella’s letter into his hand. “I already read it.”

He looked up at her. “What did it say?”

“It would be best for you to read it yourself.”

Balek unfolded it and began to read.

“To Marc, King of Cornwall and Lord Regent Protector of Lyoness.

       As you requested in your previous letter, I gave the potion to Tristan and Isuelt.

Signed, Isabella, herbalist.”

“What does it mean, ‘potion?’ There’s no such thing.”

Hannah shrugged. “I do not know. I am not a herbalist.”

“Well, whatever it is, I do not like it. If those two are truly having an affair then if Marc discovers it, he will do everything short of killing Tristan to punish him.”

“What of Isuelt?”

“He would not lay a hand on her.”

“But she is just as much involved as Tristan!”

“Shh, someone might hear you. I did not say he would not punish her. He would most likely banish her from his sight until he grows lonely again.”

“How long would that be?”

“A few days; maybe a week.”

Hannah stamped her foot. “This is too wrong! Lord Tristan and Lady Isuelt need to stop this madness!”

“Hannah, calm yourself. We do not need unwanted attention. Now, I think it is time we confronted them.”

“No! You would only anger Isuelt if we are wrong and you do not want to face her wrath. It is a terrible thing to witness.”

“Then we shall wait and watch and see.”

 

*          *          *

 

Tristan stroked Isuelt’s hair as she hung onto his arm in fear. They were sitting in the captain’s cabin on Isuelt’s bed. They had been in port for about ten minutes now and Marc was waiting impatiently on the dock.

“I do not want to leave you,” she said, her voice showing that tears were eminent.

“Everything will be fine. You can still come and see me for I live in the palace in Cornwall, not Lyoness.”

“But what of my wedding vows. I cannot dare to break those.”

“Take one step at a time. Hold on and we will make it through.”

There came a knock on the door. “My Lady? The king is growing impatient,” came Hannah’s voice.

“Time to let go, Isuelt.”

She nodded and let go of his arm. “Coming, Hannah!” Then she turned to Tristan and said, “You are so difficult! I am glad to be finally leaving your irritating presence!” She winked at him and the turned and stormed out of the room, her head held high and her expression blank.

Tristan put on an irritated façade and walked out after her. Hannah shot him a questioning glance and he simply said, “Women.” At this she gave him a disgusted look and ran after her mistress. Tristan followed at a leisurely pace and Balek joined him. “How do you fair this day, good Balek?”

“Better than I did this morn.”

“Tristan! Come here!” Marc called out.

Tristan politely excused himself and then broke into a jog as he made his way off the ship and onto the dock, Hodain running beside him. “Yes, Uncle Marc?”

“Which of these good ladies is my bride? Come, come now, boy, introduce them.”

Motioning to Isuelt, he said, “Uncle, this is Princess Isuelt of Ireland and accompanying her is her handmaiden, Hannah.”

“It is a pleasure to meet both of you. And it is good to see that you remained without injury on this quest, my nephew.”

“No, Uncle, I acquired a small scratch on my right arm.”

“Well then, I trust it is healed?”

“Almost.”

“Good, good. Now, my beautiful Isuelt, I shall show you to my palace that is to be your home.” One of the crew handed Hannah and Isuelt the reins to their horses. “And I see that you both have horses. This is very good news indeed.”

Isuelt and Hannah mounted up and arranged their skirts around the horn on their sidesaddles. Marc and his guard mounted up and they started off at a walk. Another of the crew handed Tristan his horse’s reins and he vaulted onto her back.

“Take care of yourself, Tristan,” Balek said to him.

“I will, Balek. You watch over yourself and my people as well.”

“That I would be more than happy to do for you, as always.”

“Thank you, my friend. Fare thee well.” He kicked his horse in the side and she started off at a fast trot after the others.