Dorigen 9 Anselm

Tristan too went home, head down, and walking slow.

His fingers fumbled as he opened his own door,

And scarcely could he turn the key.

His head felt heavy and he fell

Cold in a faint upon the stony floor.

His brother, who knew of all he had been through,

Took him up and helped him to his bed

And brought him blankets warm and pillows soft

And did his best to make him feel at ease.

The next day Roderick came home.

How happy is young Dorigen then

As she welcomes him and takes him in her arms.

She holds him tight and promises herself

He never will escape her from her again.

This knight had never given a thought

That any man might have come near

And murmured words of love.

It had never crossed his mind.

And so in joy and bliss I let them dwell

And of sick Tristan I will tell.

Many weeks and many months passed by,
And Tristan never left his bed

But sickened despite the daily care

Night and morning from his brother there.

His name was Anselm.

Tristan took help from him alone,

For he would tell no other of his love,

He spoke no word of his dire plight,

But only to his brother, and in him

He confided day and night.

Anselm wept to see him in this state

And then thought back to years before,

When he studied in Orleans. For there he’d met

A wizard who had kept the students in that place

Dumbfounded by his knowledge and his skill.

His tricks and magic had amazed them all.

‘If I can find this man’ he thought,

‘Then he might help us in some way.’

He then went straight to his brother’s room

And gently woke him from his fitful sleep

And told him of his plans and hopes.

As the first sun rose the very next day

And lit the early farm hands to their work

Through the cold and silent streets,
Through the sparkling morning mist,

To Orleans city they took their way

To find this man of magic there,

This strange illusionist.