the worst of them would be the best today.
I saw in those days – yes, I really knew –
what reputation, faith and honour do,
but now the whole world’s full of wickedness,
and cheats and villains flourish in excess,
and have destroyed the things that used to be,
and wrecked the good, and turned things terribly
with all their evil tricks and wicked ways.
These were the sort that nobles in those days
would not let near the court, or take them in;
but nowadays it’s quite a different thing.
You count at court as noble, great and wise
if what you’re good at is malice and lies.
At court you’re worthy, and have more esteem
(far more than I should ever really dream
was possible) than many an honest man
who honours God and does the best he can.
That’s what I know of how it used to be.
Now son, perhaps you’ll do the courtesy
of telling me how things are there today?’
‘Gladly I will. Listen to what I say.
Well. At the court today you’ll hear the words
‘come on and drink, drink, drink, my noble lords,
if you drink that, I’ll match you to the drop,
let’s swill and slurp and never ever stop.’
That’s true. And now I’ll tell you all the rest.
There used to be folk of the very best
type there, and all those noble ladies too.
You only find the people now (it’s true!)
down at the vintners, when they’re selling wine.
You see, that’s what is always on our mind
from dawn to dusk, from morning until night,
whether the wine will last us out alright,
and if it does, how can the court get hold
of more good stuff, rich, fruity, red and old,
to match that which we’ve swilled the livelong day,
which makes us merry, lively, blithe and gay.
We have genteel endearments, that is true –
like: ‘Fill the wine cup, little darling, do!’
But now you’d look an idiot, a chump,
to court a lady, when you could get drunk.
Good liars, now – they have the pride of place,
and treachery counts as a special grace,
confidence tricksters – yes, we need them, too,
and anyone who knows a dodge or two.
If you swear like a sailor when he’s mad,
then we say: ‘Now that’s what I call a lad!’
All that old-fashioned rubbish you describe,
we’ve dumped all that, it’s gone and more beside.
The folk who live like you we all ignore
and no-one pays attention any more –
they’d be about as welcome at our gates
as, say, the executioner and his mates.
But then, we only laugh at all the law.’
The old man said: ‘God help you evermore!
Alas that evil should have spread abroad.’
‘All that old jousting – that’s gone by the board,
and we’ve got new games now. They used to say:
‘Up sirs, most noble knights, and to the sword!’
What you hear now all day’s a different word:
‘Quick, steal that cattle, grab it and get back.
Spear him or slash him down, hack, hack!
Take that old fool and put out both his eyes.
Cut that one’s feet off, chop him down to size.
And as for that one, we’ll just see him hang,
then go and find some other wealthy man
who’ll pay a fortune if we let him go.’
This is the kind of daily life I know.
Dear father, listen, if I wanted to
then I could tell a thousand tales to you
about the way we live and how we keep.
But now I’m tired, and really need to sleep.’
And so they did as the young Helmbrecht said,
and everything was then prepared for bed.
They spread a linen coverlet for him
(brought to him by his sister, Gotelind)
over the bed-place where he took his ease
after his travels to his father’s house.
And so he slept through till the next mid-day.
Of what he did then, I’ll have more to say.
A visitor – this rule is always true,
and Helmbrecht kept up with the practice, too –
brings presents when he comes to see people.
He brought the family a whole bag-full,
for mother, father and his sister too.
If I now tell you what they were, then you
will all be very much amused to hear
what Helmbrecht brought them back after this year.
He brought his father a sharpening-stone.
No-one would ever find a better one
to use when he went out to cut the hay.
He also brought a scythe. Again, I say
no better one could possibly be found,
and what a gift to give a farmer, now!
He also brought an axe. I need not tell
that this was of the finest sort as well –
no smith had ever made a better – and
lastly he put an adze into his hands.
What he brought home and gave to his mother
was a full coat made of the finest fur
(but he himself, young Helmbrecht had, alas,
stolen it from a priest during a mass).
Yes, if the goods were stolen, be assured
that I shall tell you – I give you my word.
Helmbrecht had stolen everything! I know
he’d robbed a merchant not too long ago
and got a bolt of silk of some great cost,
which now to Gotelind he lightly tossed,
together with a band so rich and rare
that only nobles are allowed to wear
according to the sumptuary law,
and not a farmer’s daughter, that’s for sure!
The groom was given shoes with leather ties –
Helmbrecht had judged and he had got his size
for him, and he had chosen them with care
and brought them with him all the way from there.
Helmbrecht was now so very upper-crust
that now he clearly felt he really must
give the lad shoes – he’d gone barefoot before.
The maid he gave a fine silken head-square
and an embroidered cloth, soft to the touch,
and both these rich gifts pleased her very much.
Well now, the time has come for us to say
how long young Helmbrecht decided to stay
there. In fact it was just a week, I fear,
but to young Helmbrecht it felt like a year
since he had been out on a robbing raid,
and so he took his leave, no longer stayed
there with father and mother, but was gone.
‘No,’ said his father: ‘No, my own dear son,
if you can live the way we’ve treated you
this week, then I urge you to stay – please do,
we’ll give you all the things that you have seen
if you stay here, and you keep your hands clean.
Son, stop this decadent behaviour,
give up the court, come back and farm once more.
The life at court is bitterness, I fear;
I’d rather be an honest farmer here
than be a petty courtier without
any real rights or lands to boast about,
and who must risk his life, and fight and ride
to battle always at some patron’s side,
and always has, at any time of day
the clear awareness that perhaps he may
be captured by his enemies, that he
may lose a limb, or be hanged from a tree.’
‘Father,’ the young man said, ‘I know you care,
and what you have in mind is my welfare,
and I am grateful for it, you are kind.
But still, I haven’t had a drop of wine
for seven whole days now! Besides, I’ve felt
the need to tighten by three holes my belt.
I’ve really got to go and catch a steer
and eat it very quickly too, I fear,
to get my belt back to its former place
and not pull it so tightly round my waist.
There are some farmsteads I must see to, and
some cattle that will come into my hands
before I can take any more time off
and I’ll make sure then that I eat enough.
For instance, a rich man, not far away,
insulted me in the worst of all ways,
the very thought leaves me with anger filled –
he rode across one of my patron’s fields!
Now if I can just lay my hands on him
he’ll pay for it a thousand times again.
We’ll have his cattle, each and every beast,
his sheep and goats and pigs – the very least
that he can do to expiate his crime
of riding through my patron’s field that time –
I tell you, when I think what he did there,
the insult really is too much to bear.
And there’s another rich man I could name
and he insulted me the very same
way – for he dipped his cake into his drink!
I’ll die before I let that go, I think!
And there’s a third rich man that I can see,
whose insult was the worst of all the three,
an insult greater than I’ve ever heard;
and even if the bishop interfered
I wouldn’t let it go at all, I swear;
his insult really was too much to bear.’
The father asked: ‘What did this rich man do?’
‘He opened up his belt a notch or two
when he sat there at table with us all.
If I catch up with him he’s going to fall,
and every single thing the fellow owns
I’ll have off him, and never mind his moans.
The oxen that he used to draw his plough
I shall convert into hard cash, and now
this will help me to look even more fine –
and I shall dress very well at the time
when we come to have our great Christmas feast.
I think that this would be the very least
that I can do. Come on, what was the fool
thinking of, and the many others too
who have insulted me and caused me pain?
I must take my revenge on them again,
or I’d be held a coward back at home.
You know, one wretched fellow blew the foam
off of his beer when I was near one day.
For that the fool is really going to pay
or else I’ll have no standing any more
before the ladies, as I did before,
nor yet be fit to buckle on a sword!
Oh yes, before too long you’ll all get word
of Helmbrecht and of all his mighty deeds,
how he mowed down a whole farmstead, like weeds.
And even if the man himself should flee,
I’ll make sure that his cattle come with me.’
The father said: ‘My son, before you go,
one other thing I’d really like to know
is what your friends are called, the fellows who
taught all these manners and these tricks to you,
that you should seek out men who are quite rich,
and rob them then of every single stitch
because they dip their cake into the pot!
Tell me their names – I’d like to know the lot.’
Helmbrecht said: ‘There’s my good friend Filch-a-lamb,
and his companion, who’s called Eat-a-ram.
These two taught me most of the things I do,
but there are others I’ll name for you too.
Swag-bag is one, and Rattle-safe as well –
they taught me more than I can tell.
Cow-gobbler too, Toss-pot’s another one –
these, father, are my companions,
I spend all of my time with these young men,
and I have named the six finest of them.
And then there’s Wolf-throat! Anyone can see,
however much he loved his family,
aunts, cousins, nephews – still I know
he’d happily turn them out in the snow
without a stitch of clothing to their name –
strangers and relatives, it’s all the same.
And then there’s Wolf-snout too; the locks
on money chests and any kind of box
all fall to him. Once in a single year I saw
him crack apart a hundred locks or more
that otherwise had held fast. They simply spring
open, if he but comes near to the thing.
But that’s his special skill; I’ll leave aside
the horses, oxen and the cows beside
that he has cleared from local farms as well;
just how many there are I couldn’t tell.
At any rate, the locks gave up the ghost
when he came near, and then he took the most.
And then there is another pal of mine,
a noble youth, who carries such a fine
name, better than most other names I know
(a duchess gave it to him long ago,
a noble and a richly endowed dame):
Sir Twytte of Twyttersville’s his name,
although we call him Wolfsgut hereabouts.
In any kind of weather he’ll be out
on robbing-raids – he never gets enough,
and thieving, well, that is the very stuff
he likes the best, he’s never satisfied,
and certainly he never will decide
to give the bad up and go for the good;
such an idea would never match his mood.
Indeed, to go out thieving is a need
he feels, like crows want new-sown seed.’
The father said: ‘After that, tell me, do,
the name these people have given to you,
with all these fellows and brothers-in-crime,
what name have they given to you this time?’
‘Dear father, I shall let you know my name –
indeed it doesn’t cause me any shame:
and Gobble-goods is what they all call me.
The local farmers are not pleased to see
me coming – for they all soon come to know
that now the children all will have to go
on bread and water diets at the best;
and I put them to many other tests –
in one case, say, a farmer’s eye I’ll poke,
or maybe hang him up over the smoke,
I’ll stake another one on an anthill,
and others, too, with pincers then I will
pull out their beards, and do so bit by bit,
or pull their hair out, every scrap of it.
Sometimes I like to rearrange a face,
or hang them up in some secluded place
by their heels, dangling from a tree,
for what the farmers have belongs to me!
When all ten of us ride out from the wood,
even twenty defenders are no good;
and after all, we’re fighting for our pride,
so we take them all on and more beside.’
Old Helmbrecht said: ‘My son, these friends of yours,
>
I’m sure you know them very well, and more
than I do, my dear child. But even yet,
wild as these men might be, I still would bet
that God’s great justice will prevail at last,
and then the hangman’s chains will hold them fast,
and he will have the last word in the game –
if they are ten or thirty, all the same.’
The son said: ‘Father, I shall change my way,
stop doing what I’ve done up till today,
and I’ll not be persuaded otherwise.
Geese, hens and chickens and other supplies,
and cattle, cheese, and all your dairy stuff
I’ve managed to preserve often enough
and spare what’s owned by you and by my mother,
and got the lads to go and raid some other;
but even though I’ve kept them off before,
I don’t think I shall bother any more.
For all this claptrap you spout without end
is quite insulting to my noble friends,
they are a fine and an upstanding lot,
and if they rob and thieve a bit, so what?
Your pious stuff has quite spoiled my day,
you should have kept your mouth shut anyway!
If you had done so, then I’d have been kind
and married off my sister Gotelind
to my friend Filch-a-lamb, to be his wife,
and then she could enjoy a splendid life,
the best that any woman in the wide world can,
when wed to such a very splendid man.
Fur tippets, linen, cloaks and other clothes
(the local church has good supplies of those)
she would have got them from him, everything,
had your cruel judgements not had such a sting
and wounded me so deeply. Gotelind
would certainly have found my friend so kind
that she (if she’d agreed to be his wife)
could eat roast beef every day of her life.’
But then he said to Gotelind: ‘My dear
sister, Filch-a-lamb chanced one time to hear
about you, and then begged me for your hand
in marriage. I was much in favour, and
told him that if both you and he agree,
then this would be acceptable to me,
that he would have no cause ever to rue
the match – I knew you to be good and true,
so he need not have the anxiety
that if he fetched up on the gallows-tree
you would not come to him and cut him down,
and lay your husband’s body in the ground
at some remote crossroads along the way,
and you’d bring myrrh and incense every day
and night for one whole year, and that you would
The Dedalus Book of Medieval Literature Page 10
