One day, as they were wandering in these high woods that had never yet
been felled or ordered, they came upon the hermitage of Ogrin.
The old man limped in the sunlight under a light growth of maples near
his chapel: he leant upon his crutch, and cried:
"Lord Tristan, hear the great oath which the Cornish men have sworn.
The King has published a ban in every parish: Whosoever may seize you
shall receive a hundred marks of gold for his guerdon, and all the
barons have sworn to give you up alive or dead. Do penance, Tristan!
God pardons the sinner who turns to repentance."
"And of what should I repent, Ogrin, my lord? Or of what crime? You
that sit in judgment upon us here, do you know what cup it was we
drank upon the high sea? That good, great draught inebriates us both.
I would rather beg my life long and live of roots and herbs with
Iseult than, lacking her, be king of a wide kingdom."
"God aid you, Lord Tristan; for you have lost both this world and the
next. A man that is traitor to his lord is worthy to be torn by horses
and burnt upon the faggot, and wherever his ashes fall no grass shall
grow and all tillage is waste, and the trees and the green things die.
Lord Tristan, give back the Queen to the man who espoused her lawfully
according to the laws of Rome.
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