Chapter VII: Part 7

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._

Now the winter season came, and with white mantle hid the earth, and it was bitter cold. Yet it fortuned that Owlglass had urgent reason to travel, for his occasions never happened to keep him in one place or city for any time. And as the night drew near, Owlglass came unto a village, and there entered into the inn and the chamber where the guests and village gossips sate talking around the fire. Our noble master was covered over with sleet and snow, and the frost had bitten him sore and his garments held within them icy proofs of the wintry season; yet for as much as the boors concealed the fire he could not warm himself. Thereat he cried out lustily for good master host that he should bring him some wine, the which was readily done. And Owlglass opened his mouth and spake unto the host after this wise: “Good mine host, I beseech thee do thou allot unto me a candle in a lanthorn, and one which should go forth with me unto the road, for there lieth by the way, a money-girdle, the which I have lost; and though I sought it diligently, yet by reason of the darkness of the night, could I not discover it.” But the host answered: “Nay, but this night seek not after it, for where it lieth shall we find it to-morrow at sun-rise, and there will be no harm come thereunto.” And he said this, for that he was wily, and would have sought it himself, and taken it. And the boors which were talking about the fire, pricked me up their ears, and one by one departed out of the inn that they might seek the money-girdle, so that at last the chimney nook was empty, and Master Owlglass might, with comfort, drink his wine in the warmth, while the others delved and digged in the snow abroad. When that they were all departed thence, Owlglass discovered the pleasant jest unto the host, and they laughed hugely, and drank in the ingle a most joyous cup thereupon.

The Eighty and Second Adventure.

_How that Owlglass did at Bremen of the market-women buy milk, and cause
it to be poured altogether into one tun._

A pleasant jest wrought Owlglass at Bremen. At one season when that he came thither, he stood on the market, and he beheld that the boors’ women brought great store of milk thereto; and therewith he ’gan to think what a merry piece of knavery he might perform. Therefore he tarried awhile until a day on which the market was very full, and much milk was brought thither, and he fetched him a great tun, the which he set upon the market-place, and cried aloud unto the boors’ women that they should turn unto him, for he would buy their milk, and they should pour it into the tun. And every good wife of the which he took milk he bade write the measure and price therefor, upon a paper, and then sit down, for he would pay the money when that the tun was filled.

So the boors’ wives sat in a circle around Owlglass, and waited for their money, and rejoiced greatly at such a noble milk merchant (for they knew him not); and it came to pass, that after a while there was not any other good wife who had milk to sell. Then Owlglass opened his mouth and spake unto the women, and said unto them these words: “To-day have I not any money in pouch. And such of ye as cannot abide and give me credit for a matter of fourteen days, would do best to take forth her milk again:” and having thus maliciously ended his speech, he hasted to go away from the market-place. Thereafter contended the boors’ wives with much anger, and each would fain take her milk out of the tun first, and in their quarrelings the milk was spilled on the ground and on their clothes, and in their eyes; and it did most certainly appear as if milk from the clouds had been rained down. And all the townspeople beheld the merry conceit, and they were greatly contented with the wit of Master Owlglass.

The Eighty and Third Adventure.

_How that Owlglass spake unto twelve blind men, and persuaded them that
he had unto them given twelve shillings; and how that they spent the
money and came evilly off thereafter._

And, it came to pass, that as Owlglass journeyed hither and thither up and down in the land, like an uneasy spirit as he was, he came again unto Hanover, and there he wrought not a few strange things. Therefore one day as he sate upon his horse beyond the city gate and rode a good way, there came along the road twelve blind men, the which he encountered. When that he beheld them he cried aloud unto them: “God give ye grace, blind men, whence come ye?” Then the company of blind men stood still and perceived that he sate upon a horse, and by that they judged him to be an honest gentleman—for respect is always due to one who is a cavalier; and who rides must needs be honest—so they took off their hats and saluted him, and spake unto him, saying: “Lo! noble and worshipful sir, good kind Christian gentleman, we have been within this city of Hanover; there had a rich man given up the ghost, and at his funeral feast were alms and baked meats bestowed upon us and other poor men, as be we. Yet for as much as frost and snow be on the ground, we were right sorely pinched with the cold.” Then answered Owlglass, and said unto them: “Ye say truly that it is cold; I fear me that of frost ye will utterly perish. Now look you, here be twelve shillings, enter ye again into the city, and get ye unto such an inn, [and he told them what inn they should seek], and spend ye these twelve shillings for God his grace and my sake, until that the winter be gone by, and ye be able to again set forth in comfort upon your voyage.”

Then the blind men stood in great honour and worship of the noble gentleman’s person, and bowed themselves before him, and gave him their thanks for his guerdon. For each blind man believed that his neighbour had received the money, to wit, in the manner that the first thought the second had it, and the second the third, and the third the fourth; and after this wise were they all hoodwinked, for not one stiver had Owlglass bestowed upon them. Thereafter they turned back, and gat them unto the hostel of the which Owlglass had told them; and when they had entered in, they spake unto the host, and told him how that it had come to pass that a good charitable gentleman had encountered them by the way, and had bestowed upon them twelve shillings, that they might eat and rejoice during the hard winter, until that spring should come again.

Now the host was a man greedy of gain, and he thought no more upon that saying, but how he might get the money; and he received them, and never did he dream within his stupid sconce to ask which had the money in pouch of them all. But he spake unto them, saying: “Dear and beloved brethren, ye shall here receive satisfaction, and your afflictions shall be comforted.” And he made haste to kill and hew down oxen and calves; and he made ready meats boiled and roast, and set them before the blind men, who fell to right gladly; and this feasting went forward every day, until he thought that they had eaten the value of the twelve shillings.

Then he spake unto them, and said: “Dear brethren, ye have eaten the value of the twelve shillings, methinks, let us therefore reckon.” And the blind men answered: “Yea;” and spake each unto his fellow, that he should take forth the twelve shillings, that good master host should be rewarded. But the one had it not, neither had the other; moreover they found that not a penny had any man of their company. And the blind folk sate still and scratched their pates, but found not the twelve shillings anywhere behind their ears; and they perceived that they had been beguiled. Then the host saw likewise that he had been cozened of his charges, and he sate there, and pondered what he should do. For he thought within himself: “Here be a company of blind rascals, and if that thou permittest them to depart, then dost thou lose thy charges; and if that thou keepest them will they eat yet more, and then thou wilt be at double cost.” So with no more ado he claps me the blind company of dear brethren into the pig-stye, and there may they make fine cheer with hay and straw.

At this time, Owlglass ’gan to think,—for with all his malice he had a good heart:—“Nay, but thy blind men must very nigh have eaten up the provision thou madest for them, and therefore go thou and seek news of them.” And he saddled his horse and disguised himself, and rode unto Hanover, and came unto the inn where the blind men lay. Thereupon, as he came into the court, and would have bound his horse up in the stable, he looked, and behold the blind men lay in the pig-stye. Thereat he gat him into the house, and spake unto the host, and said unto him: “What is this thing which thou hast done unto these blind men? Wherefore be they amidst the dirt and mire of the pig-stye? Have ye no bowels of mercy when ye see the vile fare they eat?” And the host answered him: “Nay, but I wish that in the water they lay all perished, if only my charges were paid.” Therewith telleth he unto Owlglass the whole story of the matter. Owlglass said unto him: “How, sir host, could ye not have a surety for this debt?” “Alas!” quoth the host, “right gladly would I have a surety if that it could be—and if that a certain surety be found, I would set free these poor men forthwith.” Thereat said Owlglass unto him: “See now, I will go and in this city make quest, if that I can find some charitable man that will do this thing for thee.”

So Owlglass gat him forth, and came unto the priest of the parish, and said unto him: “Most reverend and learned sir, hast thou a will to do a Christian kindness? For lo! I must expound unto thee, that mine host of the inn where I lie is possessed of an evil spirit within the past night, and he beggeth hard that ye would exorcise him, and cast out the evil demon.” The priest answered, and said: “Yea, that I will most cheerfully; for is it not mine office? Yet must we tarry a day or two; for with such things is haste greatly to be avoided.” Then quoth Owlglass: “I will go fetch his wife, that ye may repeat this thing unto her.” The priest replied: “Yea, bring her unto me, I warrant she shall be content.” Then departed Owlglass, and gat him to the host, and said: “I have found for thee a surety in good master parson of the parish. Give me now thy wife to bear me company unto him; for he will give her satisfaction.” Thereat was the host right glad, and bade his wife immediately resort with Owlglass unto the priest; and when they came thither, Owlglass said: “Behold, reverend sir, here is the woman, wife unto the host of the which I spake anon. Assure her now as before thou didst assure me.” And the priest said: “Yea, my good woman; be thou content. For is it not mine office to do deeds of charity? That which thy husband seeketh shall be in a short time performed within these few days.” And the woman was content, and returned again unto her husband, and said unto him, that the priest would perform the payment duly; and then was the host glad, and let the blind men depart, and rewarded Owlglass for his pains; and this last set forth on his journey, and tarried no longer in Hanover.

The third day after this, the woman went again to master parson, and demanded of him, that he should pay the twelve shillings. And he asked her, if her husband had said this thing unto her; and she said: “Yea.” Thereat he observed, “that such was the way with evil spirits; they would always have money.” But the woman said: “There be no evil spirits here; pay ye the charges, and therewith are we ended.” The priest quoth thereat: “I was admonished that your good man was possessed of an evil spirit, the which he would fain have cast forth; now this will I do, but of money know I nothing.” To him straightway answered the goodwife: “Nay, but this is the fashion with liars and shufflers; when that money is to be paid, they would with knavery escape. If that my husband be of an evil spirit beset, ye shall surely be advised thereof,” and therewith ran speedily unto her husband, and told him what the parson said.

After this took the host halberts and pikes, and ran with a company unto the parsonage. And when the parson beheld it, he cried aloud, and assembled his neighbours, and said unto them: “Do you, I charge ye, help me against this madman, who of an evil demon is sore possessed.” And the host said unto him: “Priest, remember thy surety, and do now pay me.” But the priest stood and blessed himself, and payed not at all. Then would the host have with a goodly staff stricken the priest, but that the boors came and parted the twain with great difficulty. But, so long as the host lived, he was ever seeking payment from the priest; and the priest affirmed that he had an evil spirit, and of that would he free him, but of money owed he unto him not a doit.

Thus fell out the end of the excellent adventure of Owlglass with the blind men, the host, and the parson.

The Eighty and Fourth Adventure.

_How that in a city of Saxony Owlglass sowed knaves._

Knaves abound in many places; there be knaves of every degree: there be black knaves, white knaves, copper-coloured knaves, red knaves, and yellow knaves. There be knaves which ride in coaches and waggons; there be knaves on horseback; there be knaves on foot. There be knaves of high degree; there be knaves of low estate. There be knaves in Holy Church, devout knaves, which cheat heaven in their prayers, and earth in their tithes; there be knaves out of Holy Church, which, for wise reasons, do simulate a contempt thereof; there be knaves which buy, and there be knaves which sell; there be knaves which, with honest mien, declare themselves no better than they be, for thou in thy vanity condemnest them not, but thinkest them better than their speech declareth, and yet be these very knaves, sorry knaves, and shallow knaves. There be knaves which bear rule, and there be knaves over which rule is borne; there be knaves which bow the knee to knavish kings, princes, and lords; and there be knaves which set foot forth against all rulers, princes, and governors. There be knaves which help ye with seeming good fellowship, and there be knaves which, by opposing ye, do ye true service; there be knaves which amuse ye; there be knaves which laugh in turn at that which ye do: lo! indeed, not in this world can ye find any place which is devoid of knaves, creeping like caterpillars through your gardens, and destroying your fairest flowers, to fatten and batten, and crawl and die like other things.

Knaves sit smiling by your own hearthstone, deluding ye with love and fair service—your children be knaves, your fathers were knaves;—for in this world are secrets hidden—and, indeed, are we unto ourselves not true, but knaves altogether, excusing, palliating, concealing, hugging, with not a little fear and trembling, our favourite vices, or our evil desires. O what a discourse of knavery would a history of our mad world be, what quaking terrors of evil doings, what fierce self-destructions, what insane flight from self-condemning would be unfolded! Let us rejoice, my masters, that a little spice of honesty leaveneth the whole lump and maketh life endurable, our meat not poison, our porridge not altogether rat’s-bane. And truly this chronicle affirmeth, averreth, and with loud voice saith, that an if such words as these had been set down in courteous phrase, and not hurled from the priest’s pulpit or babbled from the fool’s booth, ye had not received, but had denied utterly the gracious assent which I do perceive sitteth upon your heart; thus, therefore, like all other things, is this chronicle but a knavish matter.

Of a truth, it may be most certainly believed, that to such a world it was necessary and fit, that a pitying eye and brain should see, and purpose despatch, from highest heaven to insulted earth a Prince of peace and justice. But in this chronicle, as in this world, is all honesty discarded; for the world is so turned topside t’ other way, that it may not be that we should distinguish gentle from simple, wise from foolish, honest man from knave. “Yet be of good cheer,” saith One who is higher than any of us; “I have overcome the world.”

Yet in one little town of Saxony espied Owlglass, when that he was therein, that not within its walls there could be a knave; yet might this be, for that he was strange unto the devices and nature of the folk which dwelt therein; and he fell into a deep contemplation and musing upon such a marvellous matter. And he took his way beside of the river Weser, the more at ease to reflect thereover. For while that he abode in that city, beheld he all that was done by the folk therein; and so strangely honest appeared their dealings, that he was tired and sick at heart with folk among whom he could not have any profit. And as he took his way along the bank of the Weser, he looked, and, behold! of pebbles shiny and clear, rolled in mass by the stream, was there a goodly heap; and he bethought how that of old some wondrous one did, by casting stones over his shoulders, produce men and women, the which in knavery excelled greatly. “Nay,” quoth he thereat; “why should not in this place a like marvel happen?” and with no more ado, he catcheth me up a sackful of these so shining stones, and entereth with great joy and content into the city.

Then in that street which is hard by over against the town-house, he beginneth to sow his crop of marvellous nature; but the people came running unto him and inquired of him, and fain would know what it might be that he was doing. “Why,” quoth noble Master Owlglass, “in this town here be ye so woundily honest, that for fear ye should be altogether without praise for your virtue, I sow ye a crop of knaves.” With that, my masters, ye should have heard the outcry and hallabaloo which the burghers did make. “Nay, nay!” they cried, “this city be, indeed, so crammed with an abundance of knaves that an if ye sow not honest folk, we shall surely perish.” But Owlglass said: “That may not be, for in this town have grown virtues so long that ye must change the crop, or let the ground be for awhile fallow.” Then they laid hands upon him and took him, and bade him answer his deeds before the town council. And the town council admonished him, and would have none of his crop, and bade him therewith carry his seed-sack out of their bounds. So Owlglass gat him forth, and entered into another city; but the fame of what he bare had been noised abroad, and so entirely did they detest knavery, and loathe cheats, that neither to eat nor to drink nor to tarry for rest would they permit Owlglass. Aweary of such ware, at last he entered into a ship, and would have departed by water, but the seed brake the bottom through, and he was nigh drowned; so into the River Weser returned the stones he had taken; and unto this day, whenever that any man is seized of great virtue, they give unto him water of the Weser to drink, the which strangely promoteth chousing, coney-catching, and gulling.

Thus endeth a great feat of our modern Deucalion.

The Eighty and Fifth Adventure.

_How that in the good city of Hamburg Owlglass hired him unto a barber
and went through the casement unto his service._

On a time came Owlglass unto Hamburg and there stood upon the Hop-market, and gazed hither and thither as he was wont to do. And unto him came up a barber, and spake unto him and said: “Lo! what seekest thou, and whence comest thou?” Then Owlglass said: “Of a truth, I come now straightway from the last place in the which I abode.” Upon this saith the barber: “What art thou for a workman?” And Owlglass said: “I am a barber, an it please ye.” Thereat the master hired him, and spake unto him saying: “Mark me, dost thou see yon house over against us with the casement down unto the ground.” “Yea,” quoth the man. “Then do thou straightway enter in there, and soon will I follow,” said the master. “Most truly,” said our worthy Owlglass. Then he gat him unto the house, and brake the casement all in pieces, and entered in thereby, and saluted the barber’s wife, who sate spinning within, and spake courteous words and said: “God bless this handiwork.” But the barber’s wife was afeared, and cried: “What labour and handiwork be this that thou dost, breaking me the casement after this wise? The foul fiend seize thee, loon!” “Nay,” quoth Owlglass, “impute not the marring of the casement unto me, except as diligent service, for your good man bade me enter in thereby, and I ever perform that which is enjoined me.” Then the woman said: “Truly, a faithful servant is he who marreth his master’s substance!” But Owlglass said: “Should not a servant perform his master’s bidding?” With that, during such conference betwixt the twain, cometh the master, and looked upon the broken casement. And he said unto Owlglass: “What is this? Couldst thou not enter by my house door, and leave me the casement whole? What be the cause that thou shouldst thus enter by a window.” “Nay,” answered Owlglass, “beloved master, ye bade me look upon the tall window and there enter in; and I did but according to thy words.” Thereat was the master content, for he considered within himself: “I can but from the money of his hiring take what will pay the charges of making my casement whole.”

Thereafter they went forward in comfort for some days. Then did the barber enjoin Owlglass that he should take a razor, and he instructed him, and said: “Now do thus evenly with the edge grind me the back, so that no notches be.” And Owlglass answered: “Yea, most willingly.” And after a season had gone past, the barber cometh privily behind Owlglass to see after what manner he was performing his labour, and Owlglass had ground the back as sharp as the edge, and marred the work altogether. So the master spake unto him saying: “What vile thing is this that thou dost?” And the other to him answered: “I do not any vile thing? But only according to thy words; didst not bid me to grind the back evenly with the edge? And so do I.” Then did the master wax very wroth, and said unto him: “Lo! get thee forth hence, and return in manner that thou didst come.” Owlglass answered him: “Yea,” and taking his bundle, springeth me forth through the casement again, and breaketh it, and so departeth. And though the barber was lithe and active, as be the fashion with barbers, yet could he never seize Owlglass, who, indeed, was a match for a good fleet runner.

The Eighty and Sixth Adventure.

_How that Owlglass did cause the host of the inn at Eisleben to be beset with great terror, by showing unto him a wolf, of the which he professed no fear._

In Eisleben there dwelt an innkeeper who was mocker of others, and who thought that of all great hosts he was the exemplar and flower. Unto him came Owlglass in the winter time; and he abode in the inn with him while that the snow was on the ground. And while that the night was dark, there came three merchants from Saxony unto the inn, who would fain come unto Nürnberg. The host, who was swift of speech, spake unto them, and, with ready words, said: “Whence come ye folk so late, and why have ye tarried so long by the way?” And the merchants answered him, and said: “Behold, master host! be not wroth with us by reason of our lateness; a wolf did lie in wait for us by the way and attacked us, and with him had we to contend and beat him off; from that cause is it that we be so late with thee.” And when that the host heard their words, he mocked them, and said unto them: “Great shame is it that ye do let yourselves be stayed by a wolf—for if that I met two wolves in the field, I would alone contend with them and slay them; little account would I make of such a pair! And there were of ye folk three people, and by a single wolf were ye affrighted.” And thus continued the host to mock them the whole even through until that they gat them to bed.

All this while sate Owlglass by the fire, and heard what was said. And when that the night was far spent, in the which this host so despised the merchants, they gat them to bed and Owlglass lay with them in one chamber; and then conferred the merchants one with the other, as to how it might be brought about that the host should be rightly recompenced for his mockery and scorn, so that they might make him to hold his peace, for that afterwards they might take their ease in the inn. Then did Owlglass open his mouth, and spake unto them, saying: “Lo! an it please ye, beloved friends, truly do I mark that our host is nought but a vain speaker. Now, if that ye are content to hear me what I would say unto ye, I will so do that never more shall he speak unto ye of the wolf.” Thereat rejoiced the merchants with great content, and did promise him money, the which should be given unto him; and his reckoning, likewise would they pay. Then he bade them depart freely unto their business; but as they returned, he would have them lie at that same inn, and he would then also be there present, and he would cause the host to hold his peace, thereafter in the matter of the wolf. To that agreed they, and gat them ready for their voyage on the next day, and paid their charges and those of Owlglass likewise, and they all rode away therefrom, and the host called after them with mockery: “Be ye sure, ye merchants, that no wolf doth beset ye by the way.” But they answered, and said unto him: “Great thanks do we give unto thee; and if the wolves devour us, then come we not hither again.”

Then did Owlglass ride unto the hunt, and chased the wolves, and by God his grace killed he one, and this one did he put in the ice until that it froze hard. And when that it was about the season that the merchants should again come unto Eisleben unto the inn, Owlglass took the dead wolf within a sack, and gat him unto the inn according unto his promise, and there found he the three merchants. At supper time did the host yet mock the three merchants about the wolf; but they said that of a truth it had so happened unto them as they had said unto him. But the host continued to speak words of vain import, and declared unto them, that if he did meet two wolves in the field, he would shake the one by the head until that he died, and then would cut the other in pieces.

Thus went all conversation forward, until that they departed unto bed. Yet kept Owlglass silence, and spake no word until they had entered into their chamber and shut the door. Then he opened his mouth, and said unto them: “Lo! gentlemen and good friends, do ye still keep watch for a space, and put ye not out the light.” And when the host had gat him to bed with all his folk, Owlglass crept privily from the chamber, and bare with him the dead wolf, the which was frozen hard, and carried it into the kitchen, and with sticks supported it that it stood upright; then did he open its mouth wide, and therein set two children’s shoes, and thereafter gat he him unto the chamber where he abode with the merchants. In no long time thereafter cried he aloud for the host. Then did the host hear him, for yet was he not asleep; and he called unto him and demanded what he would have. Then they cried aloud unto him: “Alas! worthy master host, send unto us the maid or the man, for of thirst shall we else die!”

When that the merchants cried aloud after this manner, the host waxed very wroth, and said: “Even thus is it ever with the folk from Saxony, for by day and by night are they always bibbing.” Then he called the maid, and bade her that she should arise and give them drink in their chamber. So the maid arose and went unto the fire, and would have taken a light; then beheld she the wolf, and looked straight into his jaws, and she was affrighted, and let the light which she had taken fall, and fled away into the court; for she believed nought else but that the wolf had devoured the children. But with a loud voice did Owlglass and the merchants yet cry for drink. Then thought the host that the maid had gone to sleep, and called the man, and he arose and would have taken a light; then beheld he the wolf, and he believed at once that the wolf had devoured the maid, and he fled and gat him unto the cellar. Thereat said Owlglass unto the merchants: “Be ye but patient! soon will ye have rare sport withal.” And he called the third time to know where the maid and man might be, for that they perished of thirst; therefore besought they the host that he should take a light and bring them to drink with his own hand, for that they could not come forth from their chamber.

The host was thereat very wroth, and believed in his heart that the man had slept as he went, and he said: “Of a truth these Saxons, with their continual drinking, cause me to have much labour!” Yet he arose and lighted a candle in the kitchen, and with that beheld he the wolf as he stood by the hearth, bearing the shoes between his jaws. Then fled he unto the merchants in the chamber, and cried aloud with fear: “Come hither to help me, beloved friends! By the hearth here standeth a terrible raging beast, the which hath eaten me the children, and maid, and man.” Then went the merchants and Owlglass with him; and the man came forth from the cellar, and the maid returned from the court, and his wife brought the children out of the chamber, and lo! they were all alive. Thereupon went Owlglass unto the wolf, and with his foot cast it down, and it lay quite still.

Then spake Owlglass unto the host, and said: “Behold! this wolf is a dead beast, and dost thou thereat cry out so lustily? What a craven man are ye? Think ye that a dead wolf will bite ye, and cause your people to flee into corners? Yet last night were ye so brave, that one wolf, the which was alive, would not have contented ye to strive withal? and with two such beasts would ye have fought in the field. But with thee is it in words, what with most others lieth only in the mind.” And the host heard these words of Owlglass, and perceived that he had been beguiled, and crept into his chamber, and was ashamed that he should by a dead wolf have been so cozened. But the merchants laughed hugely at the excellent wit and merry conceit of our prince of good fellows, honest Master Owlglass, and right willingly paid for his provisions with their own, and rode with him upon their way. Since that time, however, hath not the landlord extolled his own bravery in like manner.

The Eighty and Seventh Adventure.

_How that Owlglass paid his host with the ring of his money._

One day Owlglass entered at Cologne into an inn, and it came to pass, that the provision was put unto the fire to cook when that it was very late, and the time for dinner came soon thereupon. And Owlglass loved good cheer, and therefore was he wroth thereat, for he loved fasting no more than a pious friar. This perceived the host, and spake unto him, saying: “He that cannot bide until that dinner be ready, may eat that he hath.” Then gat Owlglass a small loaf, and that did he eat; and thereafter sate down by the hearth at the fire, and he smelled the savour of the meat upon the spit, and it satisfied him. And when dinner-time came, the table was set and the meat brought up, and the host sate with the guests at the table, but Owlglass abode in the kitchen by the fire. Then said the host unto him: “Wilt thou not sit at meat with us?” “Nay,” quoth Owlglass, “I care not to eat; with the savour of the roast am I filled.”

Then the host held his peace, and continued to eat with the guests, and after dinner they paid him and departed this way and that way; yet abode Owlglass by the fire. To him entered the host with his pay-table, and would have of him two Cologne pence for his dinner. And Owlglass said unto him: “Sir host, are ye that kind of man which demandeth pay of one who hath not eaten?” Then was the host angry, and said “he should pay, for an if he had not eaten of the meat, had not he confessed himself filled with the savour thereof?” Then took Owlglass forth a Cologne penny and threw it on the table, and said unto the host: “Hearest thou the sound of that penny?” “Yea,” quoth the host. And Owlglass quickly took up his penny again, and put it into his pouch, and said: “As much reward the sound of my penny is unto thee, even so much have I profited of the savour of thy meat.” And when the landlord would have received the penny of him, Owlglass denied it unto him, and mocked him with much scorn, and departed thence over the Rhine water, and gat him back again into Saxony.

The Eighty and Eighth Adventure.

_How that Owlglass at Lübeck did escape from a house when that the watch
would have taken him for his debts._

Master Owlglass, like unto most other great and glorious personages, esteemed money but lightly; and he could not bear to look upon the same piece of coin oftener than twice—once when that he received it and put it in his pouch, and again when that he took it forth to spend it in joyous company. Therefore marvel ye not when that I say unto ye, that Master Owlglass did oftentimes make debts, the which he could not pay. And it fortuned, that on a time when that he was abiding in that good town of Lübeck, that he had not a penny, and the officers of the watch did go about to catch him, and cast him into gaol until that he paid every person to whom he owed aught. But he kept within his house, and went not forth but at eventide, when that darkness had with its black mantle covered the town. Yet on one evening he perceived that they had surrounded the house where he lay, and would have entered and have taken him. And he beheld, that for him was only one thing possible to be done—that he should in a church find sanctuary. Now, in that same house lay an old woman who was sick unto death, and sorely afflicted. Unto her went Owlglass, and took her hand, and did, with a most grave countenance, say unto her: “Behold, is it not time that thou shouldst think of thy soul, and make thee ready to depart; for near unto death dost thou lie.” And therewith sent he unto the priest of the parish, that he should come, that she might confess unto him, and receive extreme unction from his holy hands. Then when the host entered in at the door, did the watch arrive from the guardhouse, and beheld it, and they prostrated themselves before it; and then Owlglass, while that they saw him not, departed out of that house, and thereafter gat him unto the church, where he lay until even, and then departed he out of the town.

The Eighty and Ninth Adventure.

_How that Owlglass at Stassfurt of a dog took the skin, the which he
gave unto his hostess for her charges._

On a time it came to pass, that Owlglass entered into an inn, and there found the hostess quite alone. And this hostess had a little dog, of the which she was greatly enamoured; and ever mote it be, that, when she had nought to do, this dog must lie in her lap. And Owlglass stood by the fire, and drank from the beer-can. Now it was the custom with that hostess, that when she drank beer, she did always, in a small dish, give thereof unto the dog. So when that Owlglass drank, the dog arose, and came unto him, and would, by leaps and look, have entreated him for some beer. That saw the hostess, and she said unto Owlglass: “Behold, beloved guest, do thou give him to drink in the dish of thy beer for so would he signify unto thee.” And Owlglass said unto her: “That will I do cheerfully.” Then departed the hostess to perform whatever business she had about the house; and Owlglass gave him to drink in the dish, and therein put likewise a little piece of meat; and when that the dog had eaten thereof, goeth he to the fire and lieth sleeping thereby. Then said Owlglass unto the hostess: “Let us now reckon our charges.” And he asked her: “Good, my hostess, if that a guest eat of thy meat and drink of thy beer, yet hath not any coin, would ye also unto such an one give credit?” Then thought the woman not of the dog, but had great suspicion of his own worthy person (the which, as ye know, my masters, was most unjust!); therefore she answered quickly unto him: “Master traveller, here must I have money, or a pledge in place thereof.” And Owlglass said unto her: “Truly am I right content therewith for mine own part; let the other look to it for his.”

Then departed the hostess again, and Owlglass took the dog beneath his cloak, and went into the stable, and there took he his skin off, and entered again into the house, carrying it privily beneath his coat. Then called he the hostess again, and took out his money, and said: “Lo! let us now reckon.” And the hostess reckoned up the charges. Then did Owlglass lay down half the reckoning upon the table, and said: “There have ye my part.” And the hostess asked of him: “Who then shall pay the rest? Have ye not eaten and drank alone in my house?” But he said unto her: “Nay, but I had another with me, who ate of thy meat and drank of thy beer. Yet hath he no money, but a pledge can he give thee, the which is his coat; and therewith will he pay the other half.” And the hostess said: “What guest mean ye?” Then Owlglass drew forth the dog’s skin, and spake unto her saying: “Behold, mine hostess, here have ye the best coat that he hath.” Then was the hostess moved, and saw that it was the skin of her dog; and she waxed wroth, and said unto Owlglass: “May the evil thing be upon ye ever! Wherefore didst thou take the skin from off my dog?” And Owlglass answered her, and said: “Woman, this is thine own fault, for thou didst demand either money or a pledge. And thou thyself didst desire that thy dog should drink, and I said unto ye the guest had no money; and thus, as he had nought else to give ye, take ye now his skin for the beer the which he drank.” Then waxed the hostess yet more wroth, and commanded and enjoined him to go out of her house. “Nay,” quoth Owlglass, “out of thy house will I not go, but ride.” And therewith did he saddle his horse, and rode forth, and said unto her: “Hostess, do thou keep the pledge until that thou dost receive the money; and once again will I visit thee, to see if that thou hast had it redeemed. Farewell.”

The Ninetieth Adventure.

_How that our noble master gave assurance unto the same hostess, that
Owlglass lay upon the wheel._