"What does the text thus far have to say about the power of language and speech (truth, lies, fiction, fact)? What messages do we get from the text about these things? What specific scenes in the text lead you to these conclusions? (Related question: What might this have to say about the power of story-telling itself?)"
In this text, I noticed that everyone is taken at his or her word. King Mark believes the barons who tell him his wife and nephew are in an adulterous relationship; the Irish people believe Tristan when he tells them he is "a minstrel named Tantris"; the servants sent to kill Brangain believe her when she "answer[s] that her only misdeed was to lend Yseut a clean white tunic when Yseut's was soiled." However unbelievable, incredible, or blatantly untrue these comments are, I feel that they are nonetheless taken as fact by the people to whom they are spoken.
This unflinching belief and trust in the words of others leads to exciting plot developments, but it rather hinders character development. Where is the inner monologue of suspicion and second-guessing? Or did people truly say what they meant back in the Middle Ages? Today, people don't believe half the things they hear. "I read it on theinternet"; "My friend told me ..."; "I heard that ..." : these statements are no longer heard without some degree of reserve. So I wonder if the lack of sarcasm inherent in the verbal storytelling of ancient times is what makes characters believe what other people tell them.
Another instance of a lie taken as truth occurs when Tristan and Yseut talk under the pine tree. King Mark (who is hidden in the branches of the tree to spy on them) believes their fake complaints and goody-goodiness without any further suspicion. We the readers know that Tristan and Yseut are far from blameless, and it seems to be pure luck that they had the chance to mask their feelings with false words; if they hadn't each glimpsed King Mark's shadow on the ground, they would have carried on with their romantic tryst as usual. I think it is incredible that King Mark just eats up their facetious moaning and groaning (the sexual type of moaning and groaning exchanged for the pessimistic kind of moaning and groaning, I suppose - a little ironic). He is so easily swayed by words; not so much by sights. It is the blood on the bed and in the flour that ultimately convinces him to send Tristan packing.
Perhaps this text shows through example that we can trust our eyes but not our ears. After all, people can say that something is so, but they could just be making that up. Seeing something for oneself is more powerful because it requires more effort to actually move concrete objects around in order to create a scene. (I'm thinking of the flour here.)
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