Tris & Izzie (19 page)

T
ristan and I were standing on the rocks above the shore of Curvenal, Mark and Branna just behind us.

“Is this it?” asked Branna.

“This is it,” I said. Curvenal looked completely different from the way it had been the first time I was here. The ash was gone. Ruined buildings had been torn down and new ones put up in their places.

Most important of all, the cage where Tristan's parents had been held was gone. In its place was a new school.

We heard children laughing behind us. They ran up and down the new playground that Tristan and Mark had built after fixing up Tintagel High. Tristan and Mark had learned a lot. Mark was planning to work construction here in Cur-venal. Branna had graduated early and was working on her teaching degree. She was going to do her student teaching in Curvenal, adding to the regular curriculum what she had learned from my mother about magic.

“I guess I don't really wish I had been here then. By all reports it was pretty awful,” said Branna.

“Yes,” said Tristan tightly. This was only the second time he had come back, and it was still hard on him to be here.

Mom was still out in the non-magical world. She had sold the house in Tintagel and was going around the country pretending to be a motivational speaker. Really, she was just looking for people who had magic.

“I hope you never have to experience something like that, Branna,” I said. The battle with Gurmun had made me realize how much I loved Tristan, but it wasn't something I thought of fondly.

“Well, there was that little dragon that we had to deal with a couple of days ago,” said Mark.

“What?” asked Branna.

Mark shrugged. “It was going around torching things. Too little to be mean, but we had to do something.”

I put my hand on Tristan's shoulder. He was so tense it was like touching a statue of him. “Come on,” I said. “No point in brooding.”

“I guess not,” he said. But he was quiet as we walked back to the school.

“So, are you excited about going to Germany?” asked Branna.

“Yeah. I'm excited about all the old magic we'll learn about.” Branna's great-aunt had turned out to be a witch, like Mom, and she had invited me and Tristan to come live with her while we went to the University of Heidelberg, which now was open about being one of the premier magical universities in the world. “The Rhine river maidens and the treasure, for a start. Maybe we'll be able to find it.”

“You're not afraid that will be more trouble than it's worth?” asked Branna.

It was a good question. But before I could answer it, I suddenly saw a plume of fire rising in the distance, and my heart almost leaped out of my chest.

“Gurmun,” I whispered. Could it be?

Tristan put his hand behind his back and slipped out Excoriator.

We looked up into the sky but didn't see anything.

“Ahem,” said Mark, directing our attention downward to another baby dragon, not more than two feet high. He went over and picked it up by the tail, swung it around, and knocked it unconscious, then used steel wire to wrap its mouth shut. He looked pretty competent at this by now.

He brought it up to Tristan. “Looks even younger than the last one,” he said.

Tristan nodded. “There is an adult dragon somewhere nearby who is hatching eggs,” he said.

“Hmm. I guess that will be my new project for the year.”

“I could stay and help,” offered Tristan.

I grabbed his arm and pulled him away. “No, you could not. I am sure there are plenty of dragons—or other magical and dangerous creatures—for you to fight at Heidelberg.”

Tristan grumbled, but then he asked, “So, are you going to marry me yet?” I felt his breath against my ear. He had asked me before, but I had kept him waiting for the right moment.

“Yes,” I said.

He went very still for a long moment. “Are you serious?”

“I'm serious,” I said.

Mark and Branna must have been watching us, because they came over right away. “Make her happy,” Mark said. “Or you know I'll make you regret it.”

Branna gave Mark a loving look. “We're thinking of get-ting married soon, too,” she said.

I smiled. “I think you'll be very happy.”

“We will,” said Branna. “When you're with the right person, it doesn't matter what else happens. Dragons, giants, slurgs, and serpents. You can still be happy through it.”

“I'm going to miss you, Branna,” I said.

“I know,” she said. “I'll miss you, too. But you've got important things to do. And so do I.”

Later that night, Tristan held up Excoriator with one arm, his other firmly around my waist. We flew up and over Curvenal in a long circle and then headed east, over the big cities and out to the Atlantic Ocean. My magic gave us light, and his gave us speed.

I
was drawn to do a retelling of the Tristan myth because of the magical elements of the story, which make it stand out from other epic love triangles. I was fascinated by the magical love philtre made by powerful witch women, the giant to be slain, the serpent/dragon with the poisonous bite, and the magical tests of virtue given to Isolde. Tristan was also one of the first epics I read while studying German literature in college. Written by Gottfried von Strassburg in 1211, it is in many ways the first truly German piece of literature that has survived, along with a handful of other tales (including the Nibelungenlied and Parzival) written in the emerging colloquial language rather than Latin. When Richard Wagner was looking for German stories to retell,
Tristan and Isolde
was one that he used for his opera of that name in 1865.

Gottfried's epic begins with a prequel, the love story of Tristan's parents, Rivalin and Blanchefleur. Their lives end tragically (but romantically), and then Tristan grows up in Cornwall and comes to his uncle King Mark's court in Tintagel. Tristan is a musician and a trickster, and he is good at just about everything he tries. He is first introduced to the court by his skill at cutting up a deer (“excoriating” it). I have tipped my hat to this scene in the original with the name of Tristan's sword.

After proving himself in battle several times, Tristan goes to Ireland to deal with Duke Gurmun, who is demanding tribute of King Mark. Tristan proves himself a hero by slaying Gurmun's monstrous brother Morold in single combat, and then finds himself battling a dragon-like serpent. He is nearly killed, but is found and saved by Isolde and her mother, Queen Isolde, both practitioners of herbal magic. He calls himself “Tantris” as a ploy to disguise his true identity, and when Isolde discovers the truth she is ready to kill him—literally—in his bath. But her mother and Tristan persuade her that it is time to forge an alliance with King Mark, and she eventually agrees to a betrothal. Queen Isolde sends a love potion to make young Isolde and King Mark happy in marriage, but on the ocean crossing, Tristan and Isolde accidentally drink it instead and fall helplessly and irrevocably in love.

Nonetheless, Isolde marries King Mark, as is her duty. I have added the idea in my retelling that Brangane loves Mark herself. But in the original, Brangane is Isolde's loyal companion throughout the epic and frequently helps Isolde and Tristan escape discovery from the king and others who are searching for ways to prove them false. One of the most memorable scenes is when the dwarf Melot catches the two lovers and demands that they be tried in court. In another case, Isolde is forced to hold a hot iron. If she lies, she will be burned, but she says the truth so cleverly that she does not give herself away. I have twisted this into Mel Melot, who has a truth potion he forces Isolde to drink.

Gottfried's romance is unfinished, but in most variants, Tristan marries Isolde of the White Hands, who appears later in the story, though he remains in love with the first Isolde. When Tristan has been wounded and can only be cured by Isolde's magical herbs, the jealous Isolde of the White Hands fatefully tells him that she sees a black sail instead of a white one, which means that Isolde has not come for him. Tristan dies in despair, and then Isolde dies of grief when she finds him. I tried to make a happier ending in my version, as tastes in romance have changed with time.

Still, I think the idea of this retelling is very much in the spirit of a medieval tale. Bards in that time borrowed freely from one another, and copying was seen as a kind of tribute. The way a storyteller became well known was to tell an old story to a new audience, adding details that would make sense to the new court and the storyteller's patron. So, changing the ending and resetting this story in an American high school seems to me to be exactly what would make sense to Gottfried. I imagined him cheering me on as I reused, reinvented, twisted, and added to his original.