The day before in the forest Tristan had been wounded in the leg by a large boar, and this hurt him greatly. The wound had bled very much and it was not bound up, to his misfortune. Tristan did not go to sleep, I believe. At midnight the king arose and went out of the room. With him went the hunch-backed dwarf. It was dark inside the room, no lamp or candle was lit. Tristan rose to his feet. (God, why did he do this? Now listen!) He put his feet together, judged the distance, leaped and landed on the king’s bed. His wound opened and bled a great deal; the blood which came out soaked the sheets. The wound was bleeding but he did not feel it, for he was too intent on his pleasure. The blood gathered in several places. The dwarf was outside; by the moonlight he could see that the two lovers were lying together. He trembled with joy and said to the king:

‘If you cannot take them together, go and hang me!’

The three villains who secretly planned this treachery were also there. The king came in. Tristan heard him coming, rose from the bed in alarm and hastily leaped back to his own. In the leap which Tristan made the blood fell (what bad luck!) from his wound on to the flour.

Beroul's Tristan