And, what’ll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
And, what’ll you do now, my darling young one?
…. I’m a-goin’ back out ‘fore the rain starts a-fallin’ I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest dark forest. Where the people are many and their hands are all empty. Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters.
I am Brangien [Brangaine] of Weisefort, Ireland, lady-in-waiting to my cousin Isolde, who became promised to King Marc of Cornwall. His nephew Tristan escorted us to England by ship. But Tristan and Isolde fell in love at sea. As ye may know, or will find out, they cite the philter they drank as the cause, over which I was supposed to keep vigil. I would like to share my perspective of how I have created good in the world through my herbs and observations. There is much to tell, including how I have adopted this odd language. In good time. My life is in God’s hands. –Inspired by the modern French translations of the Tristan and Isolde texts