mother and sister sit."

So, holding each other's hands, they came into the women's room, where
the mother and the daughter sat together weaving gold upon English
cloth and singing a weaving song. They sang of Doette the fair who
sits alone beneath the white-thorn, and round about her blows the
wind. She waits for Doon, her friend, but he tarries long and does not
come. This was the song they sang. And Tristan bowed to them, and they
to him. Then Kaherdin, showing the work his mother did, said:

"See, friend Tristan, what a work-woman is here, and how marvellously
she adorns stoles and chasubles for the poor minsters, and how my
sister's hands run thread of gold upon this cloth. Of right, good
sister, are you called, 'Iseult of the White Hands.'"

But Tristan, hearing her name, smiled and looked at her more gently.

And on the morrow, Tristan, Kaherdin, and twelve young knights left
the castle and rode to a pinewood near the enemy's tents. And sprang
from ambush and captured a waggon of Count Riol's food; and from that
day, by escapade and ruse they would carry tents and convoys and kill
off men, nor ever come back without some booty; so that Tristan and
Kaherdin began to be brothers in arms, and kept faith and tenderness,
as history tells. And as they came back from these rides, talking
chivalry together, often did Kaherdin praise to his comrade his
sister, Iseult of the White Hands, for her simplicity and beauty.

One day, as the dawn broke, a sentinel ran from the tower through the
halls crying:

"Lords, you have slept too long; rise, for an assault is on."

And knights and burgesses armed, and ran to the walls, and saw helmets
shining on the plain, and pennons streaming crimson, like flames, and
all the host of Riol in its array. Then the Duke and Kaherdin deployed
their horsemen before the gates, and from a bow-length off they
stooped, and spurred and charged, and they put their lances down
together and the arrows fell on them like April rain.

Now Tristan had armed himself among the last of those the sentinel had
roused, and he laced his shoes of steel, and put on his mail, and his
spurs of gold, his hauberk, and his helm over the gorget, and he
mounted and spurred, with shield on breast, crying:

"Carhaix!"

And as he came, he saw Duke Riol charging, rein free, at Kaherdin, but
Tristan came in between. So they met, Tristan and Duke Riol. And at
the shock, Tristan's lance shivered, but Riol's lance stru