Tales from the Old French

by Unknown

So he issued out, leaning upon his staff, for he was feeble of body, and saith forthright to the baron: "Sir, be ye welcome. It is meet we put all evil from us, repent us and confess, and think full sweetly of God." "Think ye of him, who forbiddeth you? But I will think of him no whit." "Yea, that ye shall, fair sir, for you should be gentle of heart, you that be a knight. A priest am I, and I require you, for the sake of him who suffered death and offered up himself for us upon the cross, that ye speak with me a little." "Speak? In the devil's name what would ye I should say, and what have ye to make known to me? I am hot to depart from your house and you, for by a fat bellwether would I set more store." "Sir," the hermit made answer, "I believe ye, wherefore do it not for my sake but only for that of God." "Proud and persistent are ye," quoth the knight; "but if I go within, it will be for neither prayer nor orison nor almsgiving." "Sir, at the least, ye will see our chapel and convent." "I will go," he saith, "but on such conditions that I shall give no alms nor say no paternoster." "Now come but within," he maketh answer, "and if it pleases you nought, return again." And for very weariness the knight lighteth down from his horse: "Methinks ye will not have done to-day; to no good did I come hither this morn, and alack that I rose so early."

But the good man took him by the hand, and urging him on full gently, led him into the chapel before the altar. "Sir," saith he then, "there is no help, here are ye in my prison; now take it not ill of me that ye perforce must speak with me. Ye may cut my head from off my body, but for nought you may do shall you escape from me until that ye have told me of your life." He that was stark and full of malice maketh answer: "Certes, that will I not, and for this were I like to slay ye; never shall ye learn aught from me, so let me go and that speedily." "My lord," saith he then, "go you shall not, so please you, before you tell me of your life and the sins with which you are tainted; I would know all your deeds." "No, certes, that will I not, sir priest," saith he. "Never shall ye know my doings. I am not so drunken with wine that I will tell you aught." "Not for me, but for the sake of God the Glorious, speak, and I will hearken." "Nay, certes, I will have nought to do therewith. Is it to this end that you brought me hither? I am like to slay you, and in truth the world were well rid of you. Methinks you are either mad or besotted with wine that you would know my life, and moreover would drive me to speak by force; now are you over-masterful, in sooth, you that would make me say that to which I am not minded." "Yet will ye do it," quoth he, "fair friend; and may he who was nailed upon the cross bring you to true penitence, and grant you so deep repentance that ye shall know your sin; now begin and I will listen."

Then looked hard upon him the tyrant who was fell and a seeker of evil. The good man was in sore dread, and every moment feared the knight would strike him, but he set all at adventure, and calling to mind the scriptures, said right gently: "Brother, for the sake of God omnipotent tell me but one sin; and when you have once begun I know well God will aid ye to tell truly all your life from end to end." "Nay, in sooth, nought shall ye hear thereof," quoth the knight. "Yea, but in truth I will." "Nay, ye shall not." "How now, ye will tell me nought! Have ye then no mind for well doing?" "No, in sooth, ye may die in your lament but nought shall ye hear from me." "Yet shall ye do my bidding, whomsoever it grieves; rather shall ye stay here until nightfall than that I hear nought. And now to make an end, I conjure you by God himself and by his most high virtue; this is the day whereon Christ suffered death and was nailed upon the cross, and I conjure you by that death that slew and destroyed the arch-enemy, and by the saints and martyrs, that you open your heart to me; yea, I command you," so spake the hermit, "that ye tell me all your sins. Now delay ye no longer." "Nay, ye go too far with me," quoth the baron, sore moved; and so confounded and astonied was he that he became all shamed. "How now," said he, "are ye such that I must perforce tell my story, may it be no other wise? Despite me then I will speak, but, certes, no more will I do."

Then wrathfully he began to tell over the tale of his sins one after the other, word by word he told them, nor did he fail of any. And when he had made his confession he said to the hermit: "Now have I told you all my deeds; are ye well content, and wherein are ye bettered? By St. James, meseems ye had not been appeased and if I had not told you the whole tale of my deeds. But now all is said,—and what then? Will ye leave me in peace henceforth? Now methinks I can go. By St. James, I have no will to talk more with you, nor to let my eyes rest longer upon you. Certes, without sword ye have won the day of me, ye that have made me speak perforce."

The good man had no will to laugh, but he weepeth full sorrowfully in that the knight doth not repent him. "Sir," he maketh answer, "well have ye said your say, save that it is without repentance; but now if you will do some penance I shall hold me well repaid." "And a fair return ye would make me," quoth he, "ye that would make me a penitent. Foul fall him who hath aught to do herein or who would desire it of me. But if it were my will so to do, what penance would ye lay on me?" "In sooth, even that which ye would." "Nay, but tell me." "Sir, with good will; to overcome your sins you should fast a space, each Friday these seven years." "Seven years!" quoth he, "nay, that I will not." "Then for three." "Nay, in sooth." "Each Friday for but a single month." "Hold your peace, nought will I do herein for I may not achieve it." "Go barefoot for but one full year." "No, by Saint Abraham!" "Go all in wool without linen." "Anon my body would be preyed upon and devoured of vermin." "Do but chastise yourself with rods each night." "That is ill said," quoth he; "know that I may not endure to beat or mutilate my flesh." "Then go a pilgrimage over sea," quoth the hermit. "That is too bitter a word," answered the knight; "say no more of it; herein ye speak idly, for full of peril is the sea." "Go but to Rome, or to the shrine of Saint James." "By my soul," said he, "thither will I never." "Go then each day to church and hear God's service, and kneel till that ye have said two prayers, an ave and a pater noster, that God may grant you salvation." "That labour were over great," made he answer. "All this ado avails not, for certes, no one of these things will I agree unto." "How now! Ye will nought of good? yet shall ye do somewhat, and it please God and please you, before we twain dispart. Now do but take my water cask to yonder stream for the love of God omnipotent, and dip it into the fountain, no hurt will that be to you, and if ye bring it to me full, ye shall be freed and absolved of both your sins and your penance, no more need you be in doubt, but I will take upon myself all the burden of your iniquity; lo, now your penalty is meted out to you."

The baron heard him and laughed out in scorn, and then he spoke, saying: "No great toil will it be and if I do go to the fountain; and speedily will this penance be done. Now give me the cask forthwith for I am in haste." The good man brought it to him, and lightly, as one untroubled, he received it, saying: "I take it on this covenant, that, until I have brought it back full to you I will never rest me." "And on this covenant I give it unto you, friend." So the knight fared forth, and his men would fain have followed him, but he would have none of them: "No, in sooth, abide where ye are," he saith.

So he cometh to the fountain and dippeth in the cask, but not a single drop runneth into it, although he turns it this way and that until he is well nigh beside himself. Then he thinketh something hath stopped the opening and thrusteth in a stick, but finds it all free and empty. So again in his wrath, he that was proud of heart dipped the little cask into the fountain, but not a drop would enter therein. "God's death!" saith he, "how is it that nought comes into it?" Then yet again he thrust the cask into the water; yet were he to lose his head thereby no whit might he fill it.

Then in his chagrin he ground his teeth, and rose up in great wrath, and went again to the hermit. Hot and ireful he hardened his heart, and spoke, saying: "God! I have not a single drop. I have done my uttermost, yet I could not contrive or so dip the cask that so much as a tear-drop of water came therein; but by him who made my soul never will I rest, nor will I cease night or day till that I have brought it to you again filled to overflowing." And again he spoke to the hermit, saying: "Ye have brought me into sore trouble by this cask of the devil. Cursed be the day whereon it was shaped and fashioned, since by reason of it so great toil must be mine, that never may I rest, nor know solace or ease by day or by night, nor let my face be washen, nor my nails trimmed, nor my hair or my beard be cut, till that I have fulfilled my covenant; afoot will I travel, and penniless will I go, nor take with me so much as a farthing in my doublet, nor yet bread nor meat."

The hermit heareth him and weepeth full gently: "Brother," quoth he, "in an ill hour were ye born, and most bitter are your days. Certes, and if a child had lowered this cask into the fountain he would have drawn it forth full to overflowing, and you have not gathered a single drop. Wretch, it is by reason of your sins that God is in anger against you, but now in his mercy he would that you should do your penance, and torment your body for his sake; now be not unwise but serve God full sweetly." But in wrath the baron made answer: "For God, certes, will I do nought, but I will do it for very pride, and in wrath and vexation: it is done neither for good, nor for the sake of my fellows." Then all in pride he turned to his men, saying: "Now get ye gone forthright, and take with you my horse, and bide you quiet in your own land. And if you hear men talk of me, mind that ye tell them nought, neither one nor other, nor this man nor his fellow, but hold your peace and be silent, and live after your wont; for I have become such that never henceforth shall I know a day without travail and toil, by reason of this cask which is of the fiend,—may the cursed fire and the cursed flame devour it! Meseems the devils have had it in their care and have laid a spell upon it; but I tell you of a sooth that rather will I seek out all the waters of all the world than not bring it back again full to overflowing."

Then without taking leave he fared forth, and passed out of the door with the little cask hung about his neck. But know ye of a truth that, save only the garments he wore, he took not with him so much treasure as would buy him four straws; and alone he set forth, for none went with him save God only. Now know ye what anon he will know, what hardships will fall to him by night and by day, at morning and evening, for he goeth forth into strange lands. Few will he have of those delights to which he is wont, and he must lie hard and lodge ill, and cold victual will be his and scanty bread; poverty will be ofttimes his neighbor, and much toil and trouble will be his.