The Fabliaux, page 31
he should keep quiet in this fashion
who had made such a show of passion,
the woman keeps her head bent forward
and turns it just so slightly toward110
him to see underneath his hood.
His treachery she understood,
she recognized him and perceived
that by her husband she’s deceived.
Enlightened now by this perception,115
she thinks to repay his deception.
A woman’s mind is very quick,
they’ve played many a man a trick,
and so will she on him she married,
she’ll see to it that he is harried—120
a painful keepsake will be his!
“My love,” she says, “how sweet it is
to hold you and to know you’re mine!
From what I own I’ll give you fine
gifts for you to keep for your own125
if you’ll tell no one what we’ve done.
Now come with me in secrecy.
I’ll put you under lock and key
in a safe room built all of stone,
where you’ll wait calmly while I’m gone130
until our people have been fed,
and, when they all have gone to bed,
I’ll bed you down beneath the covers.
No one will ever know we’re lovers.”
“Lady, what you have said is good.”135
(Lord! how little he understood
the scheme his better half has laid,
for he had one thing in his head
and she harbored another thought!)
In a sad scrape will he be caught140
today, for once she shut him in,
no way could he get out again,
and to the garden she returned
and found the man for whom she yearned,
gave him a kiss, a hug, a squeeze.145
(The second suitor’s more at ease,
I rather think, than the first to
arrive there!)
When they had gone through
the garden, they proceeded right
to her room, readied for their night150
together. She, acting as guide,
ushered her paramour inside
and got him underneath the quilt,
and right away he went to tilt
in the tourney prescribed by Love.155
Less than a nut’s all he thought of
playing at any other game,
and, as for her, she felt the same.
When their delight is satiated
and hugs and kisses have abated,160
she says, “Now listen to me, dear.
A little while wait for me here,”
and she explains to him that she’ll
go let the servants have their meal.
“Lady, let it be as you say.”165
The lady goes her merry way
and joins her household in the hall;
to make them glad she gives her all.
When the food was set on the table,
they ate and drank all they were able,170
and when they’d all eaten their fill
and all were at the table still,
the lady called a household session,
addressing with taste and discretion
two nephews whom her husband hired.175
With them, she’d what help she required:
a Breton man, sound as a bell,
who carried water from the well,
three chambermaids to clean the house,
the niece who had spied for her spouse,180
two hired hands, and a renegade.
“God save me, good people,” she said,
“now listen well and hear me out.
You’ve seen around the house, no doubt,
a student who comes frequently185
and simply will not let me be.
He pesters me to sleep with him,
and I have never given in,
but, when I saw he’d not relent,
I went along with his intent190
and said that he could have his way
when my husband had gone away
on business to barter and sell.
Now he has gone, may he fare well!
That low-life student who’d harass195
me into doing something crass
has somehow learned my husband’s gone
and is no longer around town.
He forced his way in here tonight,
and now I have him locked up tight200
upstairs there in the stone-walled room.
Avenge me! Let him meet his doom,
and I’ll let you drink several kegs
of our best wine down to the dregs!
Go on upstairs to where I’ve locked205
him up. Bring sticks—I want him knocked
about, flattened or on his feet.
Don’t stop the blows or cease to beat,
so that while he yet lives on earth
he’ll not pursue women of worth!”210
When the household hears what’s expected
of them, they jump up as directed.
One grabs a stick, one takes a cudgel,
this one a pestle, that a shovel;
the key she gives them; off they sally.215
I’d say the man who’d keep a tally
of every blow ’s some raconteur!
They won’t let him get through the door,
but corner him inside the room.
“You corrupt cleric, meet your doom!220
We’ll cane you like a lazy scholar!”
One grabs his throat around the collar
so tightly he can’t make a sound;
they shove and push the man around,
hiding his face beneath his hood.225
They really give it to him good:
They wouldn’t miss a chance to thrash
him for a hundred marks in cash.
They didn’t cease to dun and dog him;
they rained down blows upon his noggin;230
the nephews with ferocity
displayed their animosity
and beat their uncle high and low;
and all the while she yelled, “Now go!
Pummel him soundly! Lay him flat!235
This time, good people, make sure that
this lay brother, this uncouth student
who pleaded that I be imprudent,
will never dare give provocation
or ruin a woman’s reputation,240
but don’t make him give up the ghost.
Then, when you’re done, let him be tossed
into the street, so he will learn
we mean him never to return!”
The merchant suffers the attack,245
hears his wife say she’s getting back
at him for his unasked flirtation,
and feels some little consolation.
He doesn’t dare raise an objection
and just submits to their correction,250
which they went about with a will.
When all the household had their fill
of beating him, the lady spoke
and cried out, “That’s enough, good folk!
I don’t want you to kill the duffer,255
for, if he dies, we all may suffer.”
When they have grasped their lady’s whim,
they quickly grab ahold of him
and drag him like a dog. They flung
him out onto a pile of dung.260
All had performed well, as required;
back to the homestead they retired
and tightly bolted up the doors;
then they drank deeply from their stores
of white wines and wines from Auxerre265
just like a king, a royal share.
The lady got pasties and wine,
and a white napkin made of fine
linen, and a tall beeswax taper,
and went to cut another caper270
with her swain while the household lay
asleep in drunken disarray.
The merchant lying in the midden,
the one they very nearly did in,
dragged himself on by might and main275
and so rejoined his baggage train.
When his men saw him bruised and frayed,
they were enormously afraid
and asked him about his condition.
“I narrowly escaped perdition,”280
he answered, “and I feel half dead,
but that is all that can be said.
There in my wagon lay me up
and carry me back home nonstop
just as soon as dawn has appeared,285
and don’t ask me another word.”
They stay the night and, when the day
breaks, pack their gear and head away;
the merchant added to their load,
they trudge along their homeward road.290
The merchant’s wife, though, for her part
is loath to see her swain depart,
but, once she’s seen day light the sky,
she sees him out and says good-bye,
requesting that he come again295
whenever she may send for him,
and he replies, “With greatest pleasure!”
• • • • •
The student then bade her adieu,
and she went back directly to300
her room and got in bed, you betcha!
Here comes her husband on a stretcher.
For all his heart is sorely grieved,
on this one point he’s been relieved
to feel his wife is so devoted305
to him that she cannot be doubted,
and he thinks if he can recover,
he’ll always cherish her and love her.
He comes straight to his dwelling, where
his wife greets him with loving care.310
She bathed his wounds with healing plants
and cured the fruits of his mischance.
“What happened,” she asked, “for God’s sake?”
He told her, “When I had to take
a narrow passage full of danger,315
my bones were broken by a stranger.”
The servants in the house related
how they had caught and castigated
a student, whom their mistress punished.
“For sure, her honor’s as untarnished320
as noblewomen of the court!”
Never did a suspicious thought
cross his mind so long as he lived.
That’s how the good woman deceived
the husband who thought he could trick her.325
He, in the end, brewed his own liquor!
50.THE MILLER OF ARLEUX
by Enguerrant d’Oisy
He must refrain from speaking ill
whose job is telling stories; he’ll
tell only those that are first-rate.
At this time I mean to relate
something that came to my attention.5
Concealing it’s not my intention.
At Palluel, where the crossings are,
a miller lived, one Jackemar,
a jolly man and clever, too.
The mill he owned was in Arleux;10
there they milled wheat for flour, he and,
beneath him, Moses, his hired hand.
There at the mill there were one day—
a Wednesday morning, by the way—
people from many towns who came15
there frequently to mill their grain;
donkeyloads full of wheat they’d brought there.
Maray, Gerard of Estrées’ daughter,
came by with her wheat to be milled,
and hailed the miller, whom she called20
by his full name, saying, “Hola
there, Samson’s Jack! You, Jackemar!
By your good faith, which is my due,
grind up my wheat, and quickly, too,
because I’ve got to get home real25
soon to prepare my father’s meal,
who’s working in the fields today.”
Jackemar said without delay
and told her, “Sister, take a seat
for a short while and rest your feet.30
We’ve lots to mill for people who
must have their turn ahead of you,
but when I can, I’ll get to yours.
Don’t fret about it, though, because
if by some chance before tonight35
I don’t, I’ll put you up all right
at my house back in Palluel.
My wife will take it very well,
for I’ll say you’re my cousin’s child.”
Moses had milled for a long while40
and all the people had gone home
back to the towns where they’d come from.
Moses could tell (he wasn’t blind)
just what’s on his employer’s mind.
Both had the same idea: how they45
would seduce Maray of Estrées
and how they would lie in her arms.
But neither will enjoy her charms;
instead it’s Jack who will be had,
rueful, irate, stymied, and sad.50
Moses called to his master. “Sir,”
he told the miller, “listen here.
There’s not much water in the brook.
You’ll have to leave off work now. Look,
the mill wheel can’t turn anymore.”55
“If that’s so, there’s nothing else for
us to do here,” he answered, “so
shut down the mill.”
The sun was low,
and the girl was very upset,
and heaved a sigh; her eyes grew wet.60
“Woe!” she lamented. “What can I
do now? I’m sure that I shall die
if I have to walk home at night.
I think I’ll lose my mind from fright!”
Moses spoke up to reassure65
her: “Listen here, my lovely. You’re
to go home tonight with my boss,
nor will you come out at a loss.”
“Indeed no,” added Jack, “God willing,
but today there’ll be no more milling70
for her, her father, or her folk.”
He held her by the hand and spoke:
“Get up now, child. To Palluel
we’re going now. That’s where I dwell;
I’ll put you up there. You’ll be fine.75
This very evening you will dine
on bread and tarts and meat and fish,
and you’ll drink all the wine you wish.
Be careful my wife doesn’t know
you’re not related to me, though,80
for right outside my room you’ll lie,
dear girl, if you desire, and I
will sleep there with my wife until
I have to head out to the mill
at Arleux and adjust the stone.85
Then I’ll come back soon as I’m done
and get in bed with you, my sweet.”
Her consternation is complete;
she’s no desire for Jackemar,
and in her heart of hearts she swore90
and said, “Please God, that will not be.”
So back they went to town, all three,
to Palluel, where the miller lives,
and came to where his dwelling is.
The miller called out to his wife,95
“Say, lady, what do things look like?
What will we have to eat tonight?”
“Oh, we’ve more than enough, all right,”
the woman says, “but who is she?”
“My cousin, for a certainty.100
Receive her like an honored guest.”
“With pleasure, sir,” his wife says next.
“Sweet child, you are most welcome here.”
“God bless and keep you, lady dear.”
About the meal what needs be said,105
that he had promised she would get?
Of bread and wine, meat, pies, and fish
they had as much as they could wish,
and after they all drank and ate
a bed was made up by the grate,110
where the girl was supposed to sleep:
a feather quilt, comfy and deep,
fine sheets, and a warm, fur-lined cover.
The miller, Jackemar, called over
to him the wife whom he had wed.115
“Lady, if it’s all right,” he said,
“I’d like to head off to the mill.
Tomorrow come early I will
have sacks and sacks of wheat for milling.”
The woman answered, “Yes, God willing,120
that’s something that is well worth doing.”
It’s high time the miller got going,
but first he tells his wife that she’s
to be attentive to his niece.
“Go with the Lord,” his wife replies.125
“I’ll treat her like my own two eyes.”
The girl stays, and the miller leaves.
Her eyes weep and a sigh she heaves,
and the wife asks her, “What’s amiss?
As you love me, do tell me this!130
Why, just now we were all so merry,
and now you’re making us all worried.
What could have someone done or said?”
“As I hope, lady, for God’s aid,
there’s nothing that I can complain135
of here, but my heart’s in great pain.
I don’t know if I dare to tell it,
but I’m most anxious to reveal it.”
“Do,” said the wife unflinchingly;
“hold nothing back, confide in me.140
However difficult your plight,
if I can, I will set things right.”
“A thousand thanks,” replied the girl,
“I’ll tell you all there is to tell.
When I came at an early hour145
to Arleux, where we grind our flour,
your husband told me, ‘Not just yet,’
and for a long time made me wait.
The others soon all got to mill;
then suddenly he closed the mill150
because Moses had said to him
the water was low in the stream.
They had me sit there such a long
time, it came time for evensong.
He’s offered hospitality155
because he means to sleep with me
if you and Jesus will not help.”
“Dear, gentle girl, do calm yourself,”
the wife said, who’d much common sense.
“You shall escape what he intends,160
for you’ll be lying in my bed
in my room, sheltered from his threat,
and here in this one I shall lie,
