There was a rumour abroad that the Emperor Charles was going to annul
the right of the monks to inherit the estates of those who happened to
die in their convents, a thing which was very displeasing to the Pope.
One day when Ulenspiegel was come to fish from the banks of the
river Meuse, he was thinking to himself that by the above action the
Emperor would stand to profit both ways, since he would inherit the
said estates, while the family of the deceased would inherit nothing
at all. Pondering these thoughts, he carefully baited his hook, and
then sat down by the river-side. And he began to nibble at a piece of
stale brown bread, regretting the while that he had no good Romagna
wine wherewith to wash it down. Still, he thought, one cannot always
have everything just as one would like. And all the time he kept on
throwing little pieces of his bread into the water, saying to himself
that no man deserves a meal who will not share it with his neighbours.
Now it was that a gudgeon came upon the scene, attracted in the first
place by the odour of bread-crumbs; and he licked up the bread with his
lips and opened his mouth for more, thinking no doubt in his innocence
that the bread would fall into his gullet of itself. But while gazing
thus in the air the gudgeon was suddenly swallowed up by a treacherous
pike who had hurled himself upon him like a flash of lightning.
Now the pike played a similar trick upon a carp who was catching flies
on the top of the water without any fear of danger. And after this
good meal the pike stayed motionless below the surface of the water,
disdainful of the smaller fry, who, indeed, were only too glad to swim
away from him of their own accord and as fast as ever they could. But
while the pike was taking his ease in this manner, a second pike came
up; and he was a hungry pike, and his mouth was open wide, for as yet
he had not breakfasted. With a bound the new arrival threw himself
upon his brother, and a furious combat ensued. They lashed at one
another with their fins, the water was red with their blood. The pike
that had eaten defended himself but feebly against the assaults of the
hungry one; nevertheless, backing a little, he took courage again and
threw himself like a bullet against his adversary. The latter awaited
this new attack with open jaws, which did not close until more than
half of his assailant's head had disappeared between them. Now they
tried to free themselves, but could not because of the hooked teeth
of the one that had become embedded in the flesh of the other. And
so they battled against each other in despair. Nor did they notice,
interlocked as they were, the strong fish-hook at the end of a silken
cord, which rose towards them from the depths of the water. In another
moment it had embedded itself in the body of the pike that had dined,
and the two struggling fish found themselves drawn out of the water
and laid together on the grass without the least deference.
As he killed them Ulenspiegel said:
"Ha ha, my little pikes, I will call you the Pope and the Emperor,
that prey ever one upon the other; but I, forsooth, am the Common
Man that shall catch you on his hook, in God's good time, and make
an end of your battles!"