The Fabliaux, page 4
she says (no evil she intends,
while toward the girl the chaplain bends
a lecherous face to regard her).
The chaplain had been born in Ardres,
between Calais and Saint-Omer.65
Sitting on a plank for a chair
and lost in thought (he’s not a ninny),
he swears that ten pounds of his money
he’d give up sooner than not do
with the girl what he wishes to,70
face-to-face with her, who was fair
and comely, still in her twelfth year,
her whose behavior was so right,
tenderly cared for, with her white
throat, lovely, unaffected, sweet.75
They had the table set to eat
in the good woman’s dwelling place.
They didn’t make a meal on dace
at that time or have fish at all,
but bittern, pheasant, waterfowl,80
and all there were well satisfied,
and the contented chaplain eyed
the virgin child, let his glance rest
upon her newly budding breast
growing on her chest like an apple.85
At last they take away the table
and have eaten all they desire.
Within the chaplain’s heart a fire
had been set blazing by his passion.
In an ingratiating fashion90
he turns to Mahauld, the girl’s mother,
and says, “Lady, hear how I suffer.
I have been vexed for a long time,
but now I mean to speak my mind.
Surely, no more can I refrain,95
but am compelled to tell you plain
your daughter, Marian the lovely,
has gone and wrenched the heart out of me,
broken inside my breast. I’ve wealth
in plenty. Tell me if that helps. . .100
I’m hoping you’ll take this aright. . .
Had I your daughter for one night. . .
Of shiny coins I have a stack.”
“What, sir?” the woman answers back.
“Then do you think your money can105
buy you my daughter, Marian,
I’ve always tenderly cared for?
By both the two saints of Gisors,
I’d say that a sour apple’s worth
more than the contents of your purse.110
Your treasure doesn’t interest me,
and that’s a fact, undoubtedly.
Put your hands somewhere else instead.”
“Dear, good woman,” the chaplain said,
“have pity on me, for God’s sake.115
I’ll bring the money here. You take
whatever you want of my riches.”
Madame Mahauld, who more than itches
to get at the wealth in his coffers,
for the priest’s use and pleasure offers120
to let him have her blond-haired daughter.
A king or a count would have thought her
a fit companion for his bed
and lovemaking, let it be said,
because her beauty was so great.125
The priest sits back down by the grate
together with Madame Mahauld,
who had so often bought and sold
garlic, pepper, and caraway.
The chaplain’s set out on his way,130
having taken his leave, for home.
Of all the men who’ve been tricked, none
ever fared worse than this priest fared!
A bath that she ordered prepared
before you knew it was made ready,135
and upon Saint Eustace’s body
and by God she begins to swear
she’ll catch the chaplain in her snare
in the same way you’d catch a fish.
Then she has someone go and fetch140
a wanton woman, Alison,
whose shapely body anyone
who paid for her could take to bed.
Now hear what Madame Mahauld said
when she saw the loose girl come by,145
quietly laughing on the sly
as someone clever might have done:
“Now by Saint Dennis, Alison,
I’ve found a husband for you, dear.
Between the river Thames and here150
no woman will be better wed.”
“For that you had me come here?” said
Alison. “How unkind of you
to make fun of a poor girl who
supports herself walking the streets!”155
“I’m not, my dear, so may it please
the Lord to grant me to be wise.
You’ll have no harm from me,” replies
Mahauld. “You’ve a white fur to gain,
a good coat also—with a train!—160
I know of, from Douai, and green!
I’ve poured a fresh bath. Do get in.
I’ll soon pass you off as a virgin.”
Alison needed no more urging;
she sits down and her clothes she peels165
off and down by the bathtub kneels,
and with a joyful, carefree air
takes off her shoes, unbinds her hair,
and, like a fish, jumps in the water.
So that’s the merchant woman’s daughter170
the chaplain thinks he will possess!
Back home, the priest saw to his dress
with gusto, and to what he’d take
with him: He asked for a fur cape
worth forty shillings a Provins-175
based merchant who was from Milan
had sold to him, and a coat, too.
(A word about the coat: It’s new,
bloodred, and made of fine dark cloth.)
Many capons and pullets both180
he had delivered to the house
that night. He wishes to carouse
just as soon as the night has come.
Do you not find when it drags on
that you cannot abide the day?185
The chaplain could brook no delay,
but went and opened up a chest
in which, as William tells us next
in French on parchment, was a leather
purse where he’s sewn up altogether190
fifteen pounds sterling currency.
Lord, how bamboozled he will be!
For just a penny from Senlis
he could well have taken his ease
with her with whom he will cavort195
when he arrives there in a short
time all night long, or just about!
He took a batch of small change out
and stuffed it in his purse, he did,
for tips to be distributed200
around as the case might demand.
Madame Menhould has a command
for Hercelot, the girl who helps
around the house: “Here’s something else
for Alexander the priest. Go205
at once and say I’d have him know
he shouldn’t wait. It’s time to start
out.” Hercelot replies, her heart
beating for the fun of this union,
“Lady, I’ll bring your message to him,210
so help me God, just as you please.”
Then going down the stone steps, she’s
out of the house, for, by the Lord
and Saint Peter, a good reward
from this, she swears, will come to her.215
“I wish a good day to you, sir,
from her who sends greeting to you
and is your friend and lover, too,
the fair and shapely Marian.”
A sturdy silver belt the man220
gave Hercelot as her reward:
“Take this, my friend, but not a word
about all this. There’s more to come.”
Hercelot answers, “I’ll keep mum.
Better that I were torn apart225
than subvert your love, for my part.
Why, I arranged the whole affair!”
The chaplain gave a laugh to hear
Hercelot say it’s all her work,
and has her given by his clerk230
two fresh and new pieces of linen.
Happy with all the gifts she’s winning,
Hercelot takes her leave and goes.
The chaplain then gets ready, who’s
expecting that that night will bring235
much joy. His cock is stiffening,
by God, more than a rutting steed!
He swears to God in no time he’d
assail the maiden who was fair
and beautiful beyond compare,240
magnificent from head to feet.
The priest was totally in heat
for the child of Madame Menhould.
He used a long top shift to fold
up the fur cape and coat he carried,245
and then off to their house he hurried,
fifteen pounds sterling tied up tight,
of which he’ll be relieved, all right,
if Madame Menhould has her way.
He enters and acts just as they250
do who expect to have a grand
old time. The woman takes his hand
and sits by him close to the fire.
As the occasion did require,
she had a lavish banquet laid:255
two capons, a fat goose she’d made,
and there were also ducks and loons.
They drank quantities of Soissons
white wine and went on to devour
crusty cakes baked of sifted flour260
of which there were plenty for each.
Then Madame Menhould makes a speech
and asks him when their dinner’s through,
“Say if you’ve brought the gifts with you
for my daughter, as you have promised?”265
“I came here meaning to be honest;
I brought all of the finery.
I have it here. Look, and you’ll see
what stylish and well-made attire!
You won’t consider me a liar270
when it comes time for me to leave.
Indeed, by Saint Simon, believe
me, I hate selling people short.”
He tossed down on a gaming board
the fifteen pounds he’s brought with him.275
The money belt he’d put it in
was large and costly.
“Hercelot,
now it’s time that all of us got
to bed,” Menhould says. “Light a fire
there in the room where they’ll retire.280
Make up a bed fit for a king.”
Hercelot, who does everything
she can to help the priest’s affairs,
had gone to the top of the stairs
(seeing to all the details) and285
she took Alison by the hand
where, in a secret place, she stood.
(The table full of drink and food
was in front of him.) “Alison,
get yourself ready quickly. Come,290
you’ll be sharing the prelate’s bed.
In the credo and alphabet
he’ll give you a fine education.
No noise, now, and no protestation
when he takes your virginity.”295
“It will be harrowing for me;
to me this thing’s completely new.
Upon my word, I promise you
I’ve never known a man. Be sure
that I am like Rome, chaste and pure,300
where no pilgrim has penetrated
or night dogs bark, unviolated
and virginal and innocent.”
With Alison, Hercelot went
into a very lovely room305
through a secret door in the home
she knew like the palm of her hand,
then returned to the chaplain and
took Marian’s hand speedily
and led her, so the priest could see,310
to the room. By God, he can’t wait
until it’s bedtime and he’ll sate
himself with the joy he expects!
To a loft Hercelot directs
and slyly hurries Marian—315
henceforth tonight the chaplain can
go get it on with Alison—
and then Hercelot comes back down
and close beside him takes a seat.
She’s given him barley for wheat;320
in place of corn she’s sold him straws.
Hercelot tells him, “By Saint George,
I’ve put the girl to bed behind
bed curtains flapping in the wind,
weeping and grieved beyond endurance.325
I’ve given her what reassurance
I could and urged her that she try her
utmost to fulfill your desire,
and you should likewise promise she
will get dresses and jewelry330
in plenty. I have served you well.”
“Whatever she asks for I will
give her, Hercelot,” the priest says,
“of all that I own and possess.”
“That’s spoken well,” says Hercelot.335
“I also told her she must not
say a word when you lie with her.
Now don’t be too rough with her, sir;
behave yourself and be polite.
Your sweetheart’s one of the elite,340
who’s lying in the curtained bower,
whiter than any hawthorn flower,
precious as any girl on earth.”
“Here, Hercelot, accept this purse,”
the chaplain tells her, “and its contents—345
a pound, if not more, by Saint Lawrence—
and buy a good cloak of lamb’s fleece.
I’m going now to take my ease
with her I’ve so been yearning for.”
He’s pushed open the chamber door;350
without a light, without a taper, he
has soon felt his hand brush the drapery,
the curtains which were hung and spread
where she lay stretched out on the bed,
ready and waiting for the priest,355
who doesn’t linger or desist.
He lifted the sheets and asked of her,
“Say, Marian, are you my lover,
you sweet girl, with no opposition?”
Then without the slightest transition360
he quickly threw his arms around
her. Her sighs make the room resound,
feigning great martyrdom, for she’s
much professional expertise.
She curled up close to him and drew her-365
self on top and the chaplain knew her.
He fucks her even quicker than did
it take him to get a prayer chanted,
as long as it took me to tell.
“Say, you sweet girl,” the priest says, “well,370
what do you think of what we’ve done?
My heart and everything I own
I mean to give you. Certainly,
if you conceive a child by me,
be sure it will be well looked after.”375
Alison kept her stifled laughter
between her teeth with modesty.
The priest believed that the one he
held in his arms was Marian.
(It wasn’t—it was Alison.380
The worm had turned before he knew.)
The priest was glad and happy, too:
Till it was day and night had gone
nine times he screwed and pounded on
the girl. Truly, I kid you not.385
Now a word about Hercelot,
who’d made her bed up in the chamber
in which he’d exercised his member.
(The priest insisted she sleep there.)
Hercelot, who does not much care390
to dawdle (she’s sly and conniving),
without her clothes on yet, arising,
gets down to work kindling a flame:
inside a mattress on a frame,
made out of pea straw that they’d bundled395
up, Hercelot her fire kindled,
then cries: “Fire, fire! Raise the alarm!”
The people living in the town,
which was large, came running and tore
apart and battered down the door400
behind which glowed the conflagration
and where the priest indulged his passion.
The head butcher of the locality
burst in without the least formality,
knew who the priest was when he spied405
him, and quickly dragged him aside
there in the chamber close up to
him: “May God have no part in you,
neither in you nor in your mistress!”
(The butcher knew about this business410
because someone had made him wise
to it.) The chaplain turned his eyes
on her he had in hand, unclad:
Why, it was Alison he’d had!
He’d thought that it was Marian!415
With the stick he was carrying
the master butcher struck him in
the ribs, and everyone ’round him
goes pounding on him with their feet ’n’
fists. He was cruelly bruised and beaten.420
They ripped his cloak off. “God Our Sire,”
the priest exclaims, “out of the fire
and back into the frying pan!”
Then he jumps as fast as he can
through a hatchway onto the road.425
Seen ass backwards, a little goat
he looked like, having no clothes on.
The townspeople were looking on
and saw him naked as a buck. He
would not have scorned to be so lucky430
to have a shred of clothes on his
bones! The blows of those heavy sticks
left marks you could see on his back
and ribs and flanks. They beat him black-
and-blue and put him through the mill.435
He took off for home running, still
trembling like a leaf on a tree.
This fable clearly lets you see,
which William from Normandy wrote,
and tells us the man who goes out440
from home at night to rob or thieve
or do anything else to grieve
his neighbor isn’t very wise,
whereas, wherever he resides,
an honest man deserves praise. Thus,445
as the chaplain was lecherous,
so he was beaten and lambasted
and all the money he spent wasted
on fucking Alison, whom any-
one could have had for just a penny,450
whenever, in her brothel, though.
There’s no more to this fabliau.
