This story tells that once upon a time there were three thieves faring
together, who had robbed many people, both church folk and lay. One of
these thieves was named Travers, but though he was in the company of
two robbers, yet he was not altogether such as they. They, indeed, were
thieves by descent as well as by choice, for their father was hanged
for his misdeeds. The one was called Haimet, and the other Barat, but
which was the more cunning workman at his trade it would be hard to
tell.
The three companions were passing one day through a high and leafy
wood, when Haimet spied a magpie's nest hidden within an oak. He went
beneath the tree, and his sharp eyes quickly perceived that the bird
was sitting upon her eggs. This thing he showed to Travers, and
afterwards to his brother.
"Friends," said he, "would not he be a good thief who might take these
eggs, and so softly descend the tree that the magpie knew nought
thereof?"
"There is no man in the world who can do such a feat," answered Barat.
"Certes, there is such a man," said Haimet, "and you shall see him at
his task, if you will only look at me."
Haimet set hands upon the oak, and climbed lightly up the great tree,
as one who had no fear to fall. He came to the nest, and parting the
straw softly from beneath, drew forth the eggs coyly and delicately.
Then he descended to the ground with a merry heart, and addressing
himself to his comrades, showed the eggs that he had stolen.
"Friends," said he, "here are the eggs, ready for boiling upon a fire!"
"Truly," said Barat, "no man's fingers are nimbler than yours, and if
you can only return the eggs to the nest, why I will own freely that
you are the most cunning thief of us all."
"Certes," answered Haimet, "they shall be set again beneath the bird,
and not a shell of them all shall be broken."
So he came again to the oak, and mounted swiftly into the tree, hand
over hand. Now he had gone but a little way when Barat hastened to the
tree, and climbed therein even more lightly and surely than his
brother. He followed him secretly from branch to branch, for Haimet was
intent upon his task, and gave no thought to those he had left below.
Then, whilst Haimet returned the eggs to the rifled nest, he stole the
very breeches from his legs, and forthwith descended to the ground.
When Travers saw this he was sick at heart, because he knew well he
might never do such feats as these. Presently Haimet came down to his
companions, and said--
"Friends, how seems it to you? Fingers like mine should pick up a good
living."
"I know not how it looks to me," answered Barat. "Your fingers are
quick enough, but your brains must be very dull, since they cannot
procure you even hosen for your legs."
"Yes, truly, I have hosen, and those altogether new, for it was but the
other day I laid hands upon the cloth, and they reach to my very
ankles."
"Are they so long as that?" said Barat; "shew them to us, and hide them
not away."
Then Haimet lifted his tunic and stared upon his legs, for he was
without breeches.
"Lord!" said he, "how can this have chanced? Where, then, are my
hosen?"
"I do not think that you have any, fair fellow," said Travers. "There
is no such thief as Barat, from here to Nevers, or so it seems to me.
Cunning indeed is the thief who can steal from a thief. But for my part
I am not meant for your trade, for I cannot spell even its A B C. A
hundred times should I be taken in my simplicity, where you would
escape by guile. I will return to my own village where I was married to
my wife. Mad must I have been to forsake it to become a thief. I am
neither fool nor idler, and know well how to toil in the fields, to
winnow and to reap. With the help of God I am yet strong enough to gain
my bread, so I go my way, and commend you to God His keeping."
So Travers parted from the company of the two thieves, and travelled by
hill and dale till he came at last to his own country. His comely wife,
Dame Maria, bore him no grudge for his absence, but welcomed his return
with much joy, as was her husband's due. He settled down amongst his
friends and acquaintance, and earned his living honestly and well. He
prospered greatly, so that he had enough and to spare, both of this and
of that. Now, towards Christmas, Travers killed a pig which he had
fattened all the year. He hung the bacon from a rafter of his house,
but better had he done, and much trouble would he have escaped, had he
sold it in the village, as you will see who read this story.
On a day when Travers was cutting fagots within a coppice, Haimet and
Barat, seeking what they might find, lighted on his house, and found
Dame Maria spinning at her wheel. Then said these rogues whose business
it was to cozen the simple--
"Dame, where is your husband?"
"Gentles," answered she, unknowing of these cheats, "he is in the wood,
gathering fagots for the fire."
"May God prosper his work," said they devoutly.
So they seated themselves, and looked about the house, high and low, at
larder and hearth-stone, in every nook and corner. Presently Barat,
raising his head, saw the side of bacon hanging from the rafters. He
drew the attention of Haimet to the meat, saying--
"Travers pains himself greatly to hide this bacon in his room. He fears
lest we should live a little at his cost, or taste his savoury meat.
Yet taste we will, if so we may."
Then they took their leave, and going a short distance, hid themselves
behind a hedge, where each set to work upon the sharpening of a stake.