rvices. But bear you well in mind that I shall be amply
revenged for your falsehood and treason."

Then he drew his sword with such a fierce and threatening countenance
that Isolde swooned out of pure fear; and Kehydius, when he saw him
advancing with murder in his face, saw but one chance for life, and
leaped out of a bay window immediately over that where King Mark sat
playing at chess.

When the king saw the body of a man hurtling down over his head, so
close that he almost touched him as he sat at the window, he sprang up
in alarm and cried,--

"What the foul fiend is this? Who are you, fellow? and where in the wide
world have you come from?"

Kehydius, who had fallen on his feet, answered the king with ready wit.

"My lord, the king," he said, "blame me not, for I fell in my sleep. I
was seated in the window above you, and slumbered there, and you see
what has come of it."

"The next time you are sleepy, good fellow, hunt a safer couch," laughed
the king, and turned again to his chess.

But Tristram was sure that his presence in the castle would now be known
to the king, and hastened to arm himself with such armor as he could
find, in dread of an assault in force. But as no one came against him,
he sent Gouvernail for his horse and spear, and rode in knightly guise
openly from the gates of Tintagil.

At the gate it chanced that he met with Gingalin, the son of Gawaine,
who had just arrived; and the young knight, being full of ardor, and
having a fancy to tilt with a Cornish warrior, put his spear in rest and
rode against Tristram, breaking his spear on him.

Tristram had yet no spear, but he drew his sword and put all his grief
and anger into the blow he gave the bold young knight. So hard he struck
that Gingalin was flung from his saddle, and the sword, slipping down,
cut through the horse's neck, leaving the knight with a headless
charger.

Then Tristram rode on until he disappeared in the forest. All this was
seen by King Mark, who sent a squire to the hurt knight and asked him
who he was. When he knew it was Sir Gingalin, he welcomed him, and
proffered him another horse, asking what knight it was he had
encountered.

"That I know not," said Gingalin, "but he has a mighty wrist, whoever he
is. And he sighed and moaned as if some great disaster had happened him.
I shall beware of weeping knights hereafter, if they all strike like
this."

As Tristram rode on he met Sir Fergus, one of his own knight