Robert Henderson Mackenzie Kenneth - The Marvellous Adventures and Rare Conceits of Master Tyll Owlglass

In no long space of time thereafter, Owlglass did desire to avenge him, concerning the mockery which befel him after the bath, therefore did he tie the rope across unto another house, and once again told the people that he would dance to and fro upon the rope. Soon did the people come together in great multitude, and there were in that place both old and young; then Owlglass spake unto the young people, and said that he would show unto them a most rare device upon the rope with their shoes. Then did they believe him, and with that put their shoes off their feet and gave them unto Owlglass, and he did put them all together upon a string and went up on to the rope; and all the people thought that he was going to make some wonderful stroke therewith. But the boys were sad, and would fain have received their shoes again.

When, therefore, Owlglass was sitting upon the rope and had ended his trickery, he cried out with a loud voice and spake these words: “Be ye now every one in readiness, and let him seek his shoes again;” and he cut the string and threw all the shoes upon the ground, in such wise that one shoe fell upon another into a great heap, and none could be distinguished. Then did the people, old and young, come in great crowds, and caught a shoe here and another there; and one spake and said this was his shoe, whereat another did make answer that it was his; and then fell they to fisticuffs, and with great blows they pulled out the hairs from their heads: one lay on the ground, and the other belaboured him with sturdy strokes; and one wept with a loud voice while another did laugh, and a third screamed like a peacock. Thus went things forward, until the old men began also to give many stripes to the crowd.

But Owlglass, sitting upon his rope, laughed until his stomach shook again, and cried out: “Right merry may ye be! Seek ye your shoes again in that wise in which I sought my way forth from the bath.” Then did he come down from his rope, and left them in contention; nor did he again come forth, for fear of the people, but abode at home with his mother. Thereover did his mother greatly rejoice, and thought that now he was a wise and gentle person, and soon, therefore, would things go better with them all. Yet knew she not of his knavery, and wherefore he dared not go out. But the wisdom of Owlglass was great; for it is better to abide in darkness with a whole skin, than live in a palace of light and be beaten with many stripes. Thus did, therefore, our great example of wit and judgment.

The mother of Owlglass was right glad that her son was so still, and chid him only for that he would learn no handicraft. Yet answered he never a word unto all her reproofs, the which she was never tired of bestowing upon him. At last he opened his mouth and spake unto her, saying: “Dear mother, as it happeneth that one beginneth action, so also is the ending thereof.” For he knew in his wisdom, that if he had begun with knavish doings, and should turn therefrom and live honestly, yet in the world would no one give heed unto him, but the rather regard him as a greater knave than before, esteeming him to be a hypocrite as well as a knave. “That believe I right truly,” answered his mother; “and thus have I seen no bread in my house these four weeks gone by, nor have I had thereof any.” “That toucheth not my speech,” said Owlglass. “But with Saint Nicolaus must the poor man fast upon his even; and if perchance he should have bread, he may feast right merrily with Saint Martin on his day. Therefore will we also eat.”

Then thought Owlglass: “God help us, how shall I compass it that my mother may be rendered quiet? Where shall I get me bread for her needs?” Thus went he forth from the village where they abode, and departed on the way towards the town of Strasfurt, and there beheld he a baker’s shop. Then went he in unto the baker, and asked him, saying: “Would he for a crown send bread unto his lord?” Then named he the name of a lord who abode in that town, and also the place where he lay, that the baker might send with Owlglass a boy to carry the bread and receive the money therefor.

Thereat answered the baker, that he would do everything that he commanded, and Owlglass gave him a sack wherein to count the loaves; but this sack had a secret hole, not to be seen. The baker sent with him a lad to receive the money.

Now when Owlglass had gat him a bow-shot from the house of the baker, he privily let a wheaten loaf fall down into the mire, and thereat set he the bag down and said unto the baker’s lad: “Alas! the bread which is thus made dirty I can never bring in unto my lord. Run quickly home and get for it another loaf, and I will wait here till that thou dost come again.” Then hasted the good lad to his master’s house, and did get another loaf for him; but Owlglass secretly hid himself in a house outside the town until that a cart came by, which did receive him and his bag; and he returned unto the house of his mother.

When that the lad came back unto the place where Owlglass had let the loaf fall, he found that he was beguiled; and he went back and told his master, who speedily ran unto the inn where lay the worshipful lord of whom Owlglass spake, and he asked the serving-men of that lord for Owlglass; but they knew him not. Then the baker perceived that he was cheated of his bread, and so returned home. But Owlglass gave the bread to his mother, and bade her to feast with Saint Martin. Thus can a great man ever overcome the besetting evils of life.

There was in the village where Owlglass lived with his mother, a custom that when anyone killed a pig, the neighbour’s children came to him in his house to eat a soup or broth, which was called the butcher-broth. Now there lived in this village a farmer who was avaricious, and yet he dared not to refuse the children the soup; then thought he of a cunning way by which he might make them sick of the soup-eating; and he cut into it the sour crumb of the bread.

When the boys and girls came, Owlglass also was among them, and he let them come in, and closed the doors and poured out the soup, and the broth was more than the children could eat; when one of them was full and was going away, the farmer had a rod with the which he struck him, so that each child was forced to eat more than it wished. The host knew well of the knavery of Owlglass, and therefore when that he was beating another child he always bestowed some hearty strokes upon him. And this did he for so long, as that they had ended all the eating, and that they felt like the dogs after grass-grazing. Thereafter would no one go unto the stingy farmer’s house to eat the butcher-broth.

The next day, when he that had beaten the children went forth, Owlglass met him, and he said unto Owlglass: “Dear Owlglass, when wilt thou come again to eat the butcher-soup at my house?” “Yea, that will I,” answered Owlglass, “when thy poultry draw for baits, and four and four together fight for a little bread.” Then said the other: “Wilt thou be so long?” But Owlglass said: “An if I came ere the time of the fat soup hath come?” Then he went on his way and thought over it until the time that the man’s poultry ran about the streets; then had Owlglass some twenty strings tied together at the midst, and at either end of the string was a morsel of bread hanging. These took he and threw to the poultry. When then the fowls here and there picked up and swallowed the bread, they could not keep hold, for at the other end another fowl was pulling, so that they were contending, and thus from the size of the bread they could not get rid of it, and so stood more than thirty fowls one over against the other and in throttling ran a wager.