Tristan + Isolde Page #2

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- or did I misuse him for my own purposes?

- He knew.

He knew.

- Where are we going?

- Away.

Are you afflicted, child?

Speak to me.

Your father will find us and have my head.

You are my charge. Please.

I am no one's charge.

You are.

And you will be Morholt's lady.

And live a loveless life like my mom?

What's that?

Where?

Isolde, wait. Don't.

Isolde, don't.

- Isolde!

- It's a man.

Dead?

Alive! Bragnae, help me!

Help me!

- Isolde.

- Quickly!

Start a fire.

- Oh.

- Quickly.

His heart falters.

- What are you doing?

- He needs heat. Now.

Get your clothes off, quickly.

Hurry.

Quickly! Smell that?

Smell the poison?

When he warms,

we'll need thistle and bark.

I've not been naked with a man for 15 years.

Hello.

You've been sleeping a long time.

You're in Ireland.

Did you know that?

Shh.

It's all right.

You're safe here. No one knows.

Don't be scared. Just sleep.

Sleep.

Oh.

- No!

- It's all right. You don't need that.

I forgot to tell him about you.

I'll wait outside with the other beasts.

- You said no one else knew.

- Sorry.

She's my maid, sworn to silence.

Um, lie down, please.

Please?

It's good you're remembering things.

This might sting.

Do you remember anything else?

The boat I found you in?

How you got this?

Too many questions.

There. Keep that dry.

Here are clothes, bread.

You have water and fire.

The ocean's outside if you wish a bath.

You won't know where you're going,

so please don't try to leave.

Just trust me.

Why are you doing this?

I'll be back.

This is a dangerous game you're playing.

- He's English, Isolde.

- And we've got him prisoner.

Under no circumstances

tell him your name, you hear me?

I thought you wished to escape this place.

Did you hear me?

- You'll do no such thing.

- He'll need more food tomorrow.

He's not of your concern.

- You've been away.

- Oh, you noticed.

- Yes, I have a bit.

- Where?

Bragnae and I were spying

the convent at Brittas.

- Seeking sanctuary?

- Some women need it.

You'll find no refuge in the new religion.

Your place is here, with Morholt.

Any word of my betrothed?

Overdue.

But comforted, no doubt,

that you yearn for him.

What's your name?

Oh, I think it's better

we don't bother with names.

How can I thank you if I don't have your name?

You just did.

If you insist, my name is Bragnae.

If you insist, my name is Bragnae.

I'm a lady-in-waiting at the court.

My parents are dead.

My mother, she's the source

of the kindness you find so puzzling.

My father would have left you where you fell.

I'm Tristan of Aragon.

Well, Tristan of Aragon...

I'd guess about you too,

but I think I've already seen everything.

Sir, I hope you appreciate the risks...

we are taking and will honor us

by leaving as soon as you are able.

She likes me.

She's right though. You do risk.

Here. And what of your parents?

They also died when I was a child.

Of what?

A different type of Irish kindness.

I'm sorry.

Tomorrow then?

Tomorrow.

'There she who bore you brought you forth.

'Set me as a seal upon your heart...

'as a seal upon your arm...

for love is as strong as death.'

Ridiculous.

I happen to believe what that says.

Don't you think there's more to life?

- Than what?

- Something more than duty and death.

Why be capable of feelings

if we're not to have them?

Why long for things

if they're not meant to be ours?

Oh, don't listen to me.

You're so sure of things.

Your certainty, it's-it's like armor.

I wish I had that.

- Why would you need it?

- The joy of being a lady.

Wanting something I can't have-

a life of my own.

Time you must leave now.

I'll follow you later.

You need a rest...

in case your betrothed would want to see you.

You're promised?

Yes.

What's he like?

Dark, tall, nearly twice your size.

An absolute gentleman.

I thought...

earlier when you spoke

of wanting something you can't have-

I didn't know what I was talking about.

Outside, just past that bluff,

there is a boat.

That's how you should go when you leave.

You should go soon.

How do you feel?

I don't know.

It's Lord Bodkin!

Tristan! They found your boat.

At this very moment,

the king himself is scouring the coasts.

He'll find you. He finds everyone.

The tide is coming. You must go.

Come with me.

- Come with me.

- I can't.

Why not? Please.

Tristan, we both know this can't be.

We've known it from the start.

That doesn't mean it isn't true. It is.

It just cannot be.

I want to know that you're alive somewhere

and thinking of me from time to time.

I want to know that there's more to this life,

and I can't know that if they kill you.

Please.

Go.

A Cornish warrior may be ashore.

Beware. We seek him as I speak.

Hopefully, it's just

his rotted corpse we'll find...

for he has slain your betrothed.

Morholt is dead, fallen in battle.

Isolde?

Bragnae, catch and comfort her.

- She is stunned.

- As am I by her grief.

We should, uh-We should assault

the British straightaway.

Crush them with maximum force.

Maximum force?

The one butchered by Marke's tribes?

Would that be the force you speak of?

We'll not confront them again

until our numbers are refreshed.

And until then...

we'll have cunning divide them.

Of what nature?

A prize, perhaps.

What's this about a tournament?

Donnchadh.

He's offered his daughter

and the lands of Lionath...

as dowry to whichever English tribe wins.

It's a clever way of setting us

against each other.

Well, the other barons will see through that.

As baron of Wessex...

it's my duty to fight in this tournament

for my people.

- For yourself, you mean.

- And what of the support you promised Tristan?

Tristan's dead.

My people have suffered enough.

They see the wealth of Lionath on offer.

That seems more real than any alliance.

- My mind is set.

- And ours as well.

So be it.

You're weary. Let me rally our friends.

I'll lead them against Donn-

Melot, Melot, Melot,

Melot, Melot.

You're my blood...

and you're a noble presence, but-

- He's back!

- He's alive!

- Tristan!

- We thought you weren't alive.

He's back! Lord Marke, it's Tristan!

It can't be.

I saw you dead.

I am delivered.

How?

How?

Please, Tristan, tell us more.

Tristan, there must be a story.

A toast to Tristan...

- back from the dead.

- Yeah, back from the dead.

Tristan, the Irish king offers his daughter

in tournament and divides all our tribes.

Whether for the power

or the wealth, half the barons...

- are sending champions to fight at Dunluce.

- Tristan.

God knows what happened to him.

'My face in thine eyes...

'thine in mine appears.

'And true plain hearts do in the faces rest.

'Whatever dies was not mixed equally.

'If our two loves be one...

'or thou and I love so alike...

that none can slacken,

none can die.'

- What?

- It's the only way to keep the alliance alive.

I fail to see how fighting

with our partners keeps us allies.

Well, they're all going

to the tournament anyway.

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