Tristran, full of guile, well primed by Love, rode through Lancïen with his hurdygurdy hanging from his neck. His hat was torn in two places so that his hair poked
through; he pulled one flap of the hat down over his face, pretending to be blind in
one eye. In this guise he clattered through the town till he came before the king. He
dismounted at the block and his companions likewise, and with his customary eloquence
Tristran said:
‘God save you, my lord king!’
And when she heard his voice the queen gave a great start: it was a voice she’d heard
so many times, and she wondered if it could be him – but told herself it couldn’t be:
Tristran had two eyes, definitely!
‘King of Cornwall,’ Tristran said, ‘engage us and reward us – we’ll serve you well!’
‘In what capacity?’ the king replied.
‘Watching your back, sire!’ he said. ‘And that’s not all we can do – we’ll show
you.’ And he called on his companions to take out their instruments, and they did
as bidden instantly. They tuned them and played so perfectly, in such faultless,
mellifluous harmony, that every knight present swore he’d never heard such sweet
music.
‘Sirs,’ said King Marc, ‘you can keep watch on my house indeed! You’re hired!’ And
calling to Dinas he said: ‘Come, show our musical watchmen inside!’

Gerbert's Continuation of Perceval