When seven years were passed and the time had come to take the child
from the women, Rohalt put Tristan under a good master, the Squire
Gorvenal, and Gorvenal taught him in a few years the arts that go with
barony. He taught him the use of lance and sword and ’scutcheon and
bow, and how to cast stone quoits and to leap wide dykes also: and he
taught him to hate every lie and felony and to keep his given word;
and he taught him the various kinds of song and harp-playing, and the
hunter’s craft; and when the child rode among the young squires you
would have said that he and his horse and his armour were all one
thing. To see him so noble and so proud, broad in the shoulders,
loyal, strong and right, all men glorified Rohalt in such a son. But
Rohalt remembering Rivalen and Blanchefleur (of whose youth and grace
all this was a resurrection) loved him indeed as a son, but in his
heart revered him as his lord.

Now all his joy was snatched from him on a day when certain merchants
of Norway, having lured Tristan to their ship, bore him off as a rich
prize, though Tristan fought hard, as a young wolf struggles, caught
in a gin. But it is a truth well proved, and every sailor knows it,
that the sea will hardly bear a felon ship, and gives no aid to
rapine. The sea rose and cast a dark storm round the ship and drove it
eight days and eight nights at random, till the mariners caught
through the mist a coast of awful cliffs and sea-ward rocks whereon
the sea would have ground their hull to pieces: then they did penance,
knowing that the anger of the sea came of the lad, whom they had
stolen in an evil hour, and they vowed his deliverance and got ready a
boat to put him, if it might be, ashore: then the wind, and sea fell
and the sky shone, and as the Norway ship grew small in the offing, a
quiet tide cast Tristan and the boat upon a beach of sand.