a pack, had trudged many a league; and this man fortuned to sit drinking
his beer. And to him entered Owlglass, and much company found he there.
And in jest did the pipemaker bid Owlglass to dine with him, and said
unto him: “To-morrow do thou come unto meat with me, and eat that which
thou wouldst have, an thou art able.” And Owlglass answered: “Yea;” and
took his words to be serious, and the next day came unto the pipemaker’s
house, and would have entered in and eaten at his table. But there found
he that above and below was the door bolted and the windows shut. Then
Owlglass walked up and down before the house a few times, until that the
dinner-hour came; but the door was fast shut all this time, and he
perceived that he had been beguiled of the pipemaker. So he departed
from that place, and said not a word, but held his peace. And it came to
pass, that on the next day Owlglass beheld the pipemaker in the
market-place, and he stood before him, and spake unto him, saying: “Thou
dost bid guests unto the feast, and when that they come, find they the
door fast closed, so that they cannot enter therein.” Then answered the
pipemaker unto Owlglass, and said unto him: “Behold, I bid thee to be my
guest, but with certain words; for I said unto thee that thou shouldst
eat with me, an thou wert able; but that couldst thou not, for when that
thou camest were the doors shut, and thou mightst not enter therein.”
“Truly,” quoth Master Owlglass, “we live and learn. That wist not I
before, so have thou my thanks.” And the pipemaker laughed, and said:
“Yet shalt thou not fast this day. Go thou unto my house, and, behold,
there wilt thou find boiled and roast, and the doors are open. Enter
therein and eat, and in no long time will I follow thee; and thou shalt
be alone, and no other guest but thee will I have.” And Owlglass
meditated within himself, and said, privily: “Bravely goeth this
forward.” Then gat he him unto the pipemaker’s house, and findeth it as
the master said unto him. And the pipemaker’s wife stood cooking by the
fire. Then said Owlglass unto her: “Behold, thy good man is at the
market, and hath received a great fish as a gift, and he desireth that
thou shouldst depart unto him, and help him to carry it home. Meanwhile
will I turn the spit for thee.” The good wife answered Owlglass, and
said: “Alas! good Master Owlglass, that will I do; and with my maid will
I get me quickly unto him, and soon return.” And Owlglass said: “Peace
go with thee.” Then departed the good wife and her maid unto the market,
and as they went forward met they the pipemaker coming towards his
house; and he said unto them: “What do ye here?” And they answered, and
said: “Owlglass came unto us, and bade us hasten unto thee upon the
market, for thou hast had a large fish given unto thee, and thou wouldst
have help to carry it home. And Owlglass hath remained in the house, and
turneth the spit.” And the pipemaker waxed very wroth, and said unto his
wife: “Here is a knavery. Why didst thou not stay within; for he hath
not done this without thereby signifying some deceitful work. Behold, I
have no fish.” Then turned they, and altogether came unto the house; and
while they were conferring together, Owlglass had shut both door and
windows, and that found they when that they came unto the house. Then
spake the pipemaker unto his wife: “Now seest thou what manner of fish
thou shouldest fetch?”
Then beat they upon the door. Thereat came Owlglass behind the door, and
said: “Beat ye the door no longer, for to no one will I open it. The
host said unto me, that I should be alone within the house, and no other
guest would he have but myself. Therefore depart ye, and after dinner
come hither again.” The pipemaker said: “It is true, I said according
unto thy words, but I meant not that it should be thus.” And the
pipemaker said unto his wife: “I’ good faith, let him now eat and drink,
for I have in my pate that which shall reward him for his knavery.”
So the three departed, and abode in a neighbour’s house until that
Owlglass had made an end of eating and drinking. Then set Owlglass to
his labour, and boiled the meat, and roasted the roast, and set it upon
a dish, and brought a stool unto the table, and with great content ate
and drank and made good cheer; and he drank health unto his worthy host,
the pipemaker. And when he had filled himself, then arose he and opened
the door, and set the dishes unto the fire again. Then entered in the
pipemaker, his wife and maid; and he said unto Owlglass: “After this
wise, the which thou hast done, do not honest folk.” But Owlglass
answered and said: “How might it be that I should do otherwise? For,
behold, thou didst say I should be alone and the only guest; and if that
I had let more guests in, shame would it have been to me, for my host
would have brooked it not.” And therewith departed he. Then looked the
pipemaker upon him as he went, and said: “Be not afraid, this matter
will I richly repay unto thee, thou knave!” Thereat said Owlglass: “He
is the best man who is ever the master.” Then in that same hour went the
pipemaker unto the hangman, who also gat money by carting dead horses;
and he said unto him: “At the inn lieth a pious man, named Owlglass, and
this night hath his horse died. This would he have carted away.” And the
pipemaker showed the hangman the house where lodged Owlglass. And the
hangman perceived that it was the pipemaker, and agreed with him that he
would do it, and took his cart and went unto the house. Then said
Owlglass unto him: “What wouldst thou have?” And the hangman answered
Owlglass, and said unto him: “Lo! the pipemaker hath been with me, and
said unto me that thy horse was dead and should be carried away. Is it
truly so?” But Owlglass mocked him, and bade him carry the pipemaker
unto the gallows. Then was the hangman wroth, and departed unto the
pipemaker’s house, and made complaint, and with six shillings did the
pipemaker satisfy him. But Owlglass saddled his horse and rode forth
from the town.
The Seventy and Sixth Adventure.
_How that an old woman mocked the good Master Owlglass when that at
Gerdau he lost his pocket._
Of old time lived there at Gerdau, in the Lüneburg country, an aged and
venerable couple, who for fifty years lived there together, being good
man and wife; and had goodly sons and daughters, the which had grown to
ripe age. And it came to pass, that the priest of the town was a merry
good-humoured wight, who loved jolly company; and wherever there was a
cup of wine to be quaffed, there would he fain be. With his parishioners
had he so fitted it, that every boor in the country side did at least
receive him and his cook once in each year; and then stayed he some day
or twain, and made excellent cheer. Now, the two old people had for many
a year kept neither dedication, nor christening, or any feast at which
the priest could have content for his fair round belly; and thereat was
he greatly moved and vexed. Therefore he meditated much within himself,
how that he might bring it about that they should give a feast.
Then sendeth he unto the boor a messenger, and asketh how long that it
had been since he had by Holy Church been married unto his good wife? To
him answered the boor: “Reverend father, so long is it ago, that I have
forgotten how many years it hath been.” And the priest rejoined unto
him: “That such forgetfulness was an evil thing for the salvation of his
soul, and he should strive to remember that thing.” Then did the boor
confer with his wife, and considered the matter; yet could they not find
the true time to tell it unto the priest. Therefore came they both unto
the priest, and were greatly troubled, and entreated of him that he
should give unto them some wholesome counsel wherewithal they might
comfort themselves. Then said the priest unto them: “Forasmuch as ye
know not the time at the which ye were married, will it be best that
next Sunday I marry you again, and then will ye be comforted. Therefore
do ye prepare a feast, and kill an ox, and a sheep, and a pig, and bid
your children and good friends to rejoice with ye on that day, and with
all favour give unto them good cheer; and I promise ye that I also will
be with ye.” Then said the boor: “In good sooth, reverend father, is thy
counsel most comforting unto the spirit. It shall go hard, but I will
have a feast which shall be fitting unto the day; for it would not be
well that after fifty years we should be put forth from the marriage
state.” These words spoken, he departed unto his house, and failed not
to do as the priest had advised him.
And the priest bid unto the feast several of his own friends, other
priests and dignitaries of the most Holy Church. Among these was the
Dean of Epsdorf, who in his stables had always a horse or twain, the
which were not to be despised; and, like unto other priests, he loved
good cheer. And with him had Owlglass served some time. And the dean
said unto him: “Sit ye upon my young horse and ride with me, and to that
are ye right welcome.” To that agreed Owlglass. And when that they were
right merry, and did eat and drink with marvellous content, the old
woman, the which was the bride, sat at the head of the table. And after
so much labour was she tired; so she gat up and departed out of her
house, at the back, down to the river Gerdau, and therein bathed she her
feet. By this time did the Dean of Epsdorf and Owlglass set forth to
ride home; and when that they approached unto her, Owlglass caused his
horse to prance and curvet, that the bride might have content thereof;
and so lustily did he this, that his girdle came unfastened, and his
side-pocket fell down upon the ground. And when that the woman beheld
this, she rose up and took the pocket, and sat down thereupon by the
water. So it came to pass, that when Owlglass had got about a field’s
length from the place where the woman sate, he found that he had lost
his pocket, and therefore turneth he about and cometh again unto Gerdau,
and he saith unto the woman: “Hast thou seen an old pocket anywhere upon
the ground?” And the woman said: “Aye, upon my wedding-day did I find an
old rusty pocket, and that have I yet unto this hour.” And Owlglass said
unto her: “Thy wedding-day? Oho! long since was it that thou wast a
bride! truly must it be an old rusty pocket, such an one will not I
have!” Then said the woman: “Is it this?” but would not give it unto
him; and so cunning might he be, yet gat he not his pocket, and he was
fain to leave it behind him; and at Gerdau it is unto this day, and
thither mayest thou travel if that thou desirest to look upon it.
[Illustration]
The Seventy and Seventh Adventure.
_How that Owlglass gained money by a horse._
On a time was Owlglass very poor; and of all his possessions there
remained unto him nought but his horse; and he was sorely troubled in
his mind, how it might be that he should get him food, lodging, and
raiment. Then came he unto a village where there was a fair, and he gat
him unto the chief inn, and in the stable lodged he the horse, and he
bade the host bring him food to eat, and good cheer of wine. And
according unto his words was it done.
And when he had eaten and drunk, and was no longer hungry, he bethought
him how that he might get him some money. Therefore went he into the
market-place, and there cried with a loud voice, that he had brought
with him the most marvellous horse which had ever been seen, and that
its tail was where its head should be, and in the place of its tail was
its head. And this horse would he for little money show unto the village
folk. Then came they unto him in great multitude, and each gave unto him
some money according to his wealth; and he let them into the stable, and
required of them that they should not in any wise betray him, and this
promised they unto him. Then did he display unto them the horse, and lo!
his tail was tied unto the manger, and his head looked forth the other
way. Then laughed the village folk at the merry jest of Owlglass, and
forgave him the money he had taken from them. Thus gat he store of
money, and departed on his way with great content.
The Seventy and Eighth Adventure.
_How that at Oltzen Owlglass did beguile a boor of a piece of green
cloth, and caused him to confess that it was blue._
Of roast and boiled was Owlglass most woundily fond at all times,
seasons, and occasions; and for that hunger pinched and griped him, by
reason that honest bread he would never eat, it so befel, that to eat he
must seek diligently for what he would have. Now it came to pass, that
while the fairing was going forward in the good little town of Oltzen,
whither from the Wend country came many, and also from divers other
towns, it came to pass, I say, that the great and beloved Master
Owlglass bent thitherward his steps, with intent to sell of his ware,
which be fool-making and coney-catching, like any other honest merchant
of them all. And truly do ye know, that all goods be most difficult to
sell, and such ware as Master Owlglass possessed not less than other
kind; so it behoved him to walk hither and thither, that he might have
occasions to display that wit and honesty, for the which he was so
famous.
Thereafter as he was, with weary steps—believing that honest trade had
departed clean out of this mad and strange world in which we
be—purposing to turn away, he beheld a country boor, of loutish mien,
chaffering and cheapening with a peddling huckster vagabond, for a piece
of green cloth, the which the boor gat, and therewith set forth toward
home. “Fine work be this,” thought Owlglass unto himself, “that loutish
boors should thus chaffer and cheapen cloth, the which for their betters
was woven! Here be thou arbiter, and of wrongs redresser.” And within
himself took he counsel how that cloth he might himself have, for, as
being the compeer of princes and bishops, it would the better grace his
good and fair personage and trappings. Therefore he sought out the name
of the village unto which the boor was departed, and went and took unto
him a hedge parson, and one other, a loose fellow, and gat him with them
forth from the city, on that road whereby the boor should go; and
bidding the twain to swear in faith and by’r lady to all he might say
unto the country boor, set them in order upon the road, removed some
little space the one from the other, and in such wise lay in wait for
the coming of good master green-cloth boor.
In no long time came that worthy trudging along the road, with great
rejoicing within his heart; for it seemed unto him most brave, that in
good green cloth he should attire himself, like unto such as did with
reviling and hard words take service from him; and he was, in very
truth, right merry at heart, for he loved the colour green, as do all
country wights. Unto him approached Owlglass, and opened his mouth, and
spake unto him, saying: “Lo! what a fine blue cloth hast thou there. Of
a truth it is azure, like the darkening sky which hangeth above our
heads in marvellous mystery. Nay, but such a blue cloth is rarely woven.
Prithee, whence didst thou get it?” And the boor answered, and said unto
Owlglass: “Ne’er a blue cloth be this at all, but a swart green, the
which I bought in the fair of Oltzen.” Then said Owlglass: “Nay, but it
is blue; and thereon will I set twenty silver marks, and let the first
man that cometh by between us twain determine and end the contention.”
Thereat said the boor: “Nay, if that thou be beside thyself and wilt
lose thy money, have with thee. I am content.” So they agreed thereupon.
With a good swinging trot cometh the first of Owlglass’s fellows
trudging along the road, for he spied that the boor had made agreement
with Owlglass. And the boor said unto the voyager: “Hold thou an
instant; we have here a contention betwixt us upon the colour of this
cloth. Say thou the truth if that it be blue or green, and we will
therewith be content.” Then the man spake unto them, saying: “It is, of
a truth, as fine blue cloth as ever eyes of mine beheld.” But the boor
would not agree thereunto, and said: “Nay, but ye are two beguilers,
cheats, and cozeners; green it is, but ye have agreed to deceive me.”
But unto him quoth the wily Owlglass: “Lo! now that it may be perceived
of me, that in this matter I am as innocent as any spotless lamb of the
flock unto which I pertain, and that right and truth is on my side, let
us make fresh agreement. See, hither, with measured steps, cometh a most
reverend priest, who in pious meditation beguileth the weariness of
travel. Let him be judge betwixt us, and by his word be we bound; for if
Holy Church bind us not, then will no ties constrain us within virtuous
paths.” And with such speech was the boor content.
Then when the priest (right good exemplar of all his tribe!) drew nigh
unto them, Owlglass spake unto him, and said: “Reverend father, upon thy
devout thoughts may we for a brief space intrude the base matters of
this outer world; and we beseech thee, determine between this boor and
myself what be the colour of this cloth.” “Nay, son,” quoth the reverend
man, “but that can ye for yourselves most easily behold.” Thereat said
the boor: “Yea, reverend father; but here have we two that would with
knavery constrain me to believe a thing the which is contrary to reason
and justice.” And unto him answered the priest, and said: “What have I
to do with your contentions? So many things there be in this world
which, contrary to reason and justice, find hot believers, men heated
and molten in the furnace of vanity and self-conceit; and would ye
contend over the hue and dye of a cloth? What care I if it be black or
white? That with your own eyes can ye see.” “But, reverend sir,” quoth
Master Bumpkin, “do ye, in the plenitude of your kindness, judge betwixt
us, and say what be the colour of this cloth.” Then the priest said:
“That ye twain may be at peace, and have no grief or ill-will at heart,
or vain rejoicing one above the other, will I say that which ye may so
easily see. The cloth is a deep blue.” And the boor marvelled thereat;
but Owlglass turned round unto him, and said: “Lo! hearest thou what the
good priest sayeth? O Holy and Excellent Church, in the which such true
and faithful men be! O noble and worthy cause, which is upheld by such
instruments of acute and keen temper! Behold, boor, the cloth is mine;
and unto the Church must I pay somewhat of its value, as by decree of
ecclesiastic it hath been awarded me.” Then the boor looked upon the
three with much amazement, and said these words: “O’ my halidom! an if
this man were not an ordained and sanctified priest, I would fain
believe that ye were all liars, intending to cozen me of my cloth with
conspiration and deceit, being three thorough-going knaves; but as I
perceive that ye be a priest, I must put faith in ye whether ye be knave
or no.”
Then he gave the cloth unto Owlglass; but if that he had known
jack-priests as well as thou and I, he had not left it. Yet such is the
world’s way; when the parson doeth justice, the boor must trudge home in
ragged frock.
The Seventy and Ninth Adventure.
_How that Owlglass most strangely gat a potful of money._
Nay but wiles and deceits be many in this world! Nor can it grow better,
or wiser, or nobler, unless the sayings which men, in the fulness of
their hearts and their wine-cups, publish abroad, be regarded and
reflected in the deeds they do the next morning. It fortuned that
Owlglass had been carousing with companions, who, indeed, were neither
worse nor better than was he himself in proper person; but who, for that
he discharged the expenses of the tippling, was extolled to the skies by
ruined gamesters, cunning and lying boon companions,—noble pothouse
friends, whose faces, marred and scored like the table whereon, in grimy
circlets, pot and glass lovingly stand together, would, in after days,
look grimly forth from the tablets of memory, and brand the soul of any
man but such a philosopher as was Owlglass. And elated and ennobled,
besmouched and bemired, by their commendation, he descended from the
throne of the wine-chamber, and set forth to come homeward, where he lay
that night. Philosophy was in his heart beaming with placid face upon
the world; from his countenance looked forth universal love of brother
to brother, in bond, apparently as firm as that of Church, in truth, as
rotten at the core, and Owlglass, in such thoughts as fumy wine
bestoweth, was for a while no longer the roving knave, cheat, and
cozener, but a true man filled full of impotent benevolence, clasping
the world in drunken joy.
Therefore, master mine, marvel not if that in mazy glory, our good
friend and brother journeyed on, and forgat what place it was where he
should lie. And while that the stars ’gan to blink down upon him, he
found that he had departed clean forth from the village, and was nigh
unto another. “Nay,” quoth he, “but here must I find me a lodging, for I
am aweary, and my steps be short and leaden.” So he shook away from
himself the loathly praise and glorifyings of reeling brethren of the
wine-pot, and diligently sought in that village for some house where he
might sleep. But of a truth it was late, and no friendly door stood wide
to let him enter. Coming at last unto the village end, he beheld a
twinkling light, and he took counsel within him what he should do. Then
crept he up privily unto the casement, and lay in wait thereby, and
looked in and beheld how a boor did count the money, the which he had
taken at the mart for a lusty yoke of oxen he had sold. “Nay,” thought
Owlglass, “here be we close by the threshold of avarice, for i’ faith
why should a man sit in the midst of the night to count and finger the
greasy coin, the which by chaffering he hath obtained? Could he not i’
the morning’s light full as happily have set forth the gain?”
Money waxeth neither with counting nor with handling; and yet men tire
not in the reckoning thereof. Better bid farewell unto a shiny Edward
shovel-groat, say I, and let it work its office in many and divers
pouches, than mar its silver beauty with the hot hands of a miser. For
if that money be a great instrument of wicked wills; yet on its course
it encourageth much and great good, and the evil that it doth is weighed
down in the balance by a hundredfold of happiness. Put ye but a penny
forth, my masters, in a faithful device, it will bud, and blossom, and
fructify, and ripen, to the harvest of a thousand pound; but an if ye
bestow it in evil design, it dieth in the hands where ye laid it, nor
enricheth any, save the unsated innkeeper or the lurking thief. And that
avarice is punished by its own miserly griping after gain, shall ye
presently perceive set forth in the true chronicle of Master Owlglass,
his doings and life. For hard by the boor sate his little son; and in
children, mark me, with all their innocence, there be the seeds of
greed; nay, the seeds of every vice and virtue under heaven.
Now he beheld how that his father, with trembling hands, and by a
farthing candle, did count the moneys he had received, and the child
lusted to become possessed of a penny, and besought that he should
bestow it upon him. “Nay,” quoth the other roughly, “this must never be.
What can a child like thee desire to have money for? Hast not food, and
lodging, and raiment, bestowed on thee, and wouldst thou have money
beside. Go to!” And he refused the child the gift which he beseeched of
him. Yet the child would not be discouraged, but again besought his
father, who denied him, and waxed wroth, and spake unto him saying: “If
that thou dost seek to obtain of me aught of this, I will give it unto
the black man without the casement, and put it forth to interest after
that wise.” Yet he wist not that in the darkness of the night lay
Owlglass hidden. Yet did the child, with speech and gesture, entreat a
penny of his father. So, with violent hand, the father swept from the
table all the fair marks he had received, and in an earthen pot bestowed
them and held it forth through the casement, and said: “Here, black man,
do thou take the money.” For he would affright the child. And Owlglass
put forth his hand and took the pot of money; and like an evil doer fled
forth unto the fields therewith rejoicing with an aching heart at the
fortune which had thus come unto him.
The Eightieth Adventure.
_How that Owlglass ran great peril of his neck for receiving the pot of
money, yet gat fifteen shillings in stead of a hanging._
When that Owlglass had, with nimble legs, gat forth with the pot of
money into the fields, and looked about, lo! there was not any man which
followed after him, and thus guilt was its own constable, lashing the
trembling culprit, and driving him forth to seek a bed in the fields,
with stubble for a pillow. Marvel not that none did with hue and cry
pursue good Master Owlglass; for it came to pass that when the boor had
found his pot of money taken, he cried aloud with a great voice, and
spake unto such as from their drowsy pillows would with sleepy head give
heed unto his speech. But for as much as it was well-known to the
worthies which abode in that village, that good master peasant was a
miserly hunks, they cared not at all when that he cried aloud that a
thief had taken his treasure, and fled with it into the night.
Thus did none follow Owlglass until the day dawned, and then search was
diligently made, for in truth men’s hearts, lacking charity in the night
season, do sometimes become strangely moved in the face of morning,—and
search being made, they encompassed Master Owlglass, and set upon him,
and took him and carried him before my good justice of that village, who
was a right worthy and true judge. Then the miserly boor stood forth,
and said: “Last night while that I sate in my chamber and counted my
moneys, this knave lay in wait under the casement thereof, and when that
to fright my child, I put forth my pot of money, he with rascally guile
took it from me, and fled away therewith. And that he had the money that
can he not deny, for when that we took him, he had it in his pouch.”
Then the judge said unto Owlglass: “What hast thou to answer unto this
man? Dost thou confess and make restitution unto him, for this be a
hanging matter, and thou art like to be food for the crows?” Thereat
Owlglass answered and said: “Nay, but I entreat ye that of this boor I
may have some answers touching this matter.” The judge said: “Speak on.”
Then said Owlglass: “Lo! didst thou not open the window and say aloud:
‘Here black man, do thou take the money?’” “Yea,” quoth the boor. “And
was not the night dark?” “In good sooth it was,” answered the boor. “And
in dark night are not all men black?” “I’ faith that is true,” said the
boor. “Then I being a black man, may it content your worship’s
reverence, was bidden to take this boor’s pot of money, the which I
graciously received, and for the which I bestow the thanks of a poor man
upon him.” “Of a truth, thou speakest wisely,” observed the judge, “and
for such deed can I not hang thee; and for as much as thou art a proper
man and of a quick wit, do I free thee, and bestow upon thee these
fifteen shillings; but be thou very heedful to depart forth from this
our village, and come not again by day or by night.” Then the boor
departed homeward and thought it had been better to have bestowed a
penny upon his little lad, than lose the goodly marks by such a rare
coney-catcher as was Owlglass. Yet for this cared Owlglass not a whit;
but set forth with full pouch and merry mood to the next country; and
praised the judge for the just and true judgment he had given.
The Eighty and First Adventure.
_How with good luck Owlglass told many that he had lost his
money-girdle, and thereby came unto a warm fire._