Now Owlglass had heard it said of old time, that the devil knoweth full well of many a hidden treasure, so he agreed with him, and they departed together. And it came to pass, that as they went through a village, they heard a child crying and screaming. Then came its mother by, and said unto it: “Hold thy peace, wilt thou? May the foul fiend take thee!” Thereat said Owlglass unto the devil: “Lo! hearest thou, there hast thou a child given unto thee?” The devil said: “My good friend, the mother meaneth not that she saith; I dare not take it, for it is but spoken in choler.” Then went they forward unto the field, and came unto a herd of swine; and lo! a great fat sow had departed from the herd, and the swineherd pursued it, and cried aloud, as he ran: “May the devil take thee!” That heard Owlglass, and for as much as he loved bacon, would fain have received his share, and said unto the devil: “Lo! dost thou not hear? Now hast thou a fat sow given unto thee. Put forth thine hand and take it, for it is thine. With thee will I have no further fellowship.” Then said the devil: “Worthy Master Owlglass, what could I do with a sow? Nor hath he any grave intent to give it unto me; and if that I took it, the poor swineherd would have to pay for it. Nay, I will await something better than this.” For the devil was tenderhearted; but Owlglass thought upon the treasure.
Thereafter came they unto the court-yard of the boor of whom Owlglass was to receive the money; and he stood in the barn and thrashed the corn. When that he looked up and beheld Owlglass, he opened his mouth, and spake unto him, saying: “Art thou there again? The devil take thee, for I would fain never see thee again.” Thereat said the devil unto Owlglass: “Now dost thou see? He meaneth this thing most devoutly; do thou, therefore, come with me, for of a truth have I found my treasure, the which was hidden.” But Owlglass answered, and said unto the devil: “Nay, but now will we reckon with each other; for I said unto thee that I would no longer have fellowship with thee, and now do I fulfil my saying; therefore do thou nothing contrary to law.” Therewith cited he the devil before the judge, and bade him hold his hand not to touch him, for was he not a government officer? I know not, my good masters, whether the devil,—who is contrary unto all law, and existeth contrary thereunto,—had no great love for judges, or whether they were so steeped in evil-doing that even the foul fiend held them in contempt; yet most true it is, that he came not unto Owlglass his citation. Thereafter grew Owlglass greater in virtue, and left off his evil ways, and laid down his office.
The Hundred and Second Adventure.
How that in his latter days Owlglass became a pious monk, and what came thereof.
Unto all men is there appointed a time when that their manifold and heavy sins sit upon their remorse-laden souls, and they groan for mercy, and writhe under the pangs of repentance. And though Owlglass had, throughout his life, been a virtuous man (as I have clearly manifested unto ye, my masters!) yet after he had journeyed hither and thither in all lands, there came unto him a gallows-repentance; and he bethought him how that he unto a convent might depart, taking the vows of poverty, and there end his days, and cast forth all that old leaven of his evil-doings, and be a pious and a good man henceforth, so that his soul should not be lost. Therefore he gat him unto the Abbot of the convent at Marienthal, and entreated of him that he would receive him as a brother, and unto the convent would he in his testament give all that he had. Now, the which was not a most marvellous thing, the abbot with such fools was greatly contented, and therefore spake he unto Owlglass, and said: “For that thou hast yet some gear of valuable treasure, art thou welcome unto me. But, seest thou, some office must thou have, for among our fraternity is no one without somewhat to do; every one among us hath an employment, and therefore must thou too labour.” And Owlglass answered, and said: “Yea, reverend father, that would I cheerfully do.” Thereat said the abbot: “Then, with God’s grace, as thou lovest not much labour, do I receive thee, and be thou our gatekeeper. So wilt thou stay within thy chamber, and wilt have neither sorrow nor great work, only to fetch thy provision and beer from the cellar, and to lock and unlock the gate.” And the pious Owlglass said: “Reverend father abbot! God give you guerdon therefore, that ye do so kindly consider the infirmities of a poor old man, borne down with the weight of his sins and broken with sickness, of a truth will I perform everything that ye do enjoin me.” Then said the abbot: “Behold, do ye now receive of me the keys, but let not every one enter herein, or will the convent soon grow poor, for the robbers will waste our substance, and eat up all our provision; therefore do thou let but few in, scarcely more than the third or fourth.” And Owlglass answered, and said: “Yea, reverend sir, I will do your bidding as ye command me.” Then did he never let more than the fourth person enter into the convent, it recked not whether they belonged unto the convent or no.
And a complaint came unto the abbot of this action of Owlglass, and he called him and spake unto him after this wise: “What a vile and doubly condemned knave art thou, that thou wilt not let such enter in that unto the convent do belong.” “Reverend Lord Abbot,” answered Owlglass, “lo! unto the fourth have I let them enter, according as thou didst signify unto me. Thy words have I fulfilled with great diligence.” “Like unto a knave hast thou fulfilled those words of mine,” said the abbot, and would fain have again been free of him. Then the abbot appointed another door-keeper, for he marked well that Owlglass would not hold from his ancient beguilings. And he gave unto him another office, and bade him count the monks in order as they gat them down unto matins, and he spake unto him, saying: “And behold, if thou dost overlook one of them then must thou get thee hence.” Then said Owlglass to the abbot: “Verily is this a heavy business; yet an if none other hath command to do it, must I fulfil it as well as may be.”
Thereafter brake he privily by night some boards from the staircase, by the which the monks came down unto the chapel. Now the Prior of that convent was an old man and a pious, and ever was he the first the which entered into the chapel to be at matins. And he came unto the stairs and sought the steps the which by Owlglass had been broken away, and found them not, but fell through and brake his leg. Then cried he out with a loud voice, so that all the other monks ran with great haste unto that place to see what had come to pass, and fell one after the other over the prior. Then did Owlglass get him unto the abbot, and said unto him: “Most reverend sir! I have fulfilled mine office as thou wouldst have from me.” Therewith gave Owlglass unto the abbot the piece of wood, the tally on the which he had nicked down the number of the monks as he stood thereby. And the abbot said unto him: “Like unto a most vile knave hast thou fulfilled my command; get thee now straightway forth from this place.” So Owlglass departed, and put from him his monk’s frock, and came unto Möllen, where he thereafter lay sick and died.
The Hundred and Third Adventure.
How that when at Möllen Owlglass lay sick, his mother came unto him.
In sickness and in health hath a man but one ever kind friend, who in him can see no fault, whose good counsel abideth within his heart, and bitter sore is it when he followeth not the words spake unto him with such noble and truthful intent; yet such was the action of Owlglass. For when that in his youth his mother would have restrained him from his knavery, would he not be persuaded. Now at Möllen lay he grievously sick, and not one of his noble friends, unto the which he had caused such great laughter, cared to come nigh unto him; yet came his mother, who with fear and trembling had, in her solitude and desolate home, marked the courses of our noble master; and she besought him, saying: “Soon wilt thou depart unto the land of darkness and shadow, the which men traverse with shuddering, quaking with fear for the evil they have done, for of a truth is no man good, no man worthy of grace! Therefore do thou, I pray of thee, bequeath unto me of thy substance, that in my old age and decrepitude I may have some comfort; for I perish of sadness and sorrow, the which killeth more than an empty stomach, and destroyeth more than the bitterness of winter frost.”
And, as he lay sick before her, did his evil youth rise up against him, and proclaim him a cunning and deceitful knave. Then took he his mother’s hand between his twain, and opened his mouth and said unto her: “Lo! evil gotten riches reward not any man, neither canst thou on them place thy comfort. Now in this world is it a rule, the which none doth, that of him which hath anything should you take of his substance, and to him that hath not allot ye a part. Yet is my good fortune so great that my treasure is hidden where no man can find it. If that thou canst discover aught that is mine take it and use it freely. But an if thou findest it not, be not grieved, for my treasure is subtle and lieth most privily concealed.” Then understood his mother the words which he spake unto her, and cared not any more to receive from him aught that by guile and cunning he had received of others. Yet may we perceive, in another place, what that treasure was, and how eagerly men strove thereafter.