tend to his grave and let him rest in peace,
I’m sure for him that you would do all this!
I said: ‘My noble sister, later on
would one day even keep your skeleton.
And if by chance the verdict’s milder, and
you only lose your eyes, then by the hand
she’ll lead you over meadows, paths and stiles,
and help you cover all the weary miles.
And if you have one foot cut off instead
she’ll bring your crutches to you in your bed
on each and every morning of the year,
oh yes, she’ll do that for you, never fear;
and if it isn’t just a foot you lose,
but they should hack the hand off that you use,
she’ll cut your meat up and she’ll slice your bread
until the day that both of you are dead.’
When I said this, old Filch-a-lamb told me:
‘If Gotelind, your sister, is happy
to take me, what a dowry I shall give,
so she in greatest luxury shall live.
I’ve got three sacks of plunder by me still,
and all so heavy that you’d think them filled
with lead. The first of these three sacks has got
the finest uncut linen – and a lot!
If you sold it, it wouldn’t be too hard
to get at least a guinea for a yard –
I’m sure she’d relish such as gift as that.
I’ll tell you what is in the second sack –
it’s crammed with blouses, skirts and lingerie;
she’d never feel the bite of poverty
if I became her husband, she my wife,
I’d settle all my goods on her for life
the day after the wedding, that I’d do,
and let her have my other plunder, too.
My third sack’s crammed full to the very brim
(so much so that I can get no more in)
with shawls and furs and other cloth as well,
and two of them – now this I’m proud to tell –
are lined with scarlet, deep and red and rich,
and all around the edges has been stitched
a trim of sable fur along the seam.
I hid the lot in a nearby ravine,
so I can very quickly get it back
and give her it tomorrow, every sack!’
That’s what he said – but father’s scotched it all
with his harsh words, so Gotelind, farewell;
I greatly fear you’ll have a bitter life
if you should end up as the lawful wife
of some old farmer – he’ll be quite a boor,
and it’s the wife that suffers, that’s for sure.
You’ll have to work for him right from the dawn
till dusk, hump sacks and help him thresh his corn,
and dig the turnip-fields laboriously!
My Filch-a-lamb would have spared you drudgery,
my noble and my very worthy friend.
Alas, my lovely sister Gotelind,
the idea causes me a lot of pain
that I should see you when we meet again
wed to some ugly oafish farmer, who
will press unwelcome affections on you,
then fall asleep and snore the night away.
Alas, my sister, how I rue the day
when that father of yours was so unkind –
and by the way, he’s no father of mine!
I’ll tell you this quite confidentially,
that in her fifteenth week of pregnancy
when my mother was having me, she lay
secretly with a nobleman one day,
who came along and slipped into her bed,
and so I now take after him instead,
and also from my godfather – fine man –
whom God preserve for just as long He can,
it’s all through these two men, I feel,
that my behaviour’s noble and genteel.’
When she heard this, his sister Gotelind
said: ‘There’s one thing I’ve always had in mind,
that really I am not his daughter either,
because a noble knight seduced my mother
when I was in her womb. The knight was very bold
and took my mother outside in the cold
when she was looking for a cow that strayed.
So this explains why I’m so nobly made.
Dear brother Gobble-goods, I ask of you,
(and may the good Lord see that it comes true)’
thus spoke the sister Gotelind,
‘That in view of all this, you’ll be so kind
and give me Filch-a-lamb to be my man.
That way I’ll always have food in my pan,
I’ll have the pick of fine wines everywhere,
and my store-cupboard never will be bare,
and I’ll have all the beer I need around,
and fine white flour, wonderfully ground.
And if I get those sacks of his, all three,
then I’ll be free of any poverty –
I shall have things to eat and things to wear,
of everything I’ll have my proper share,
and I’ll have everything that a wife should
get from her husband in the way of goods.
And what’s more, I know I can offer him
just what he needs – yes, I know I can bring
my body, I’ve got everything he’ll need!
If only our wretched father agreed!
Besides, I’m quite three times as tough, you know
as my sister, who married long ago,
and on the morning after, no-one said:
‘Let’s help the poor thing get out of her bed.’
The bedding didn’t kill her, we could see,
and I’m quite sure that no more will it me,
unless I really have misheard the facts
and it involves some rather different acts.
Dear brother Helmbrecht, please do hear me out
(and what I say you must not spread about);
let me come with you on the narrow track
out through the pine-forest, when you go back,
you see, I really, truly want to wed
your friend and lie beside him in the bed.
For that I’m quite prepared to risk the lot,
father and mother and the home I’ve got.’
Of this new plan the father got no wind,
nor did the mother guess what was in mind,
but the brother and sister soon agreed
on their next moves, and settled with all speed
that she should run away like him some day.
‘And then I’ll see you’re married straightaway
to my friend Filch-a-lamb – he’ll lie with you
no matter what your father tries to do.
To have a man like that’s what you deserve,
and you’ll be rich if such a man you serve.
So if, sister, your resolve is true
I’ll send a messenger who’ll come to you
for you to follow him – he’ll lead you on,
so you and Filch-a-lamb can become one.
I’m sure that this plan of mine will succeed
for both of you, and you’ll have all you need.
I shall arrange a wedding feast with guests
who will bring finery, the very best
of clothes and ornaments, all for your use –
yes, I shall do that for you in all truth.
Now sister, make sure you are all prepared,
and I’ll make sure that Filch-a-lamb is squared
as well. God bless you now! I must away.
Or else my welcome (so-called) I’ll outstay
from father. Mother, blessings on your head.’
And so off on his old path he then sped,
an
d brought the news to Filch-a-lamb with pride
that Gotelind agreed to be his bride.
His friend, delighted, kissed young Helmbrecht’s hand
a thousand times, embraced him fondly, and
said that he blessed the air, the blessed wind
that had been breathed by lovely Gotelind.
But now the story takes a sorry turn.
Many widows and orphans had to learn
to live without things that were stolen now,
and cope with this new tragedy somehow,
when Filch-a-lamb, young Helmbrecht’s mighty friend,
got married to the lovely Gotelind,
and they sat in the seat of honour there.
The food they ate was brought from everywhere
around, they fetched it all from far and wide;
for days on end the men would ride and ride
to bring the things they wanted. Day and night
they worked to make the wedding feast quite right.
Food came in cartloads, and on horses too,
at every hour of the day. And soon
The bridegroom’s father’s house was full of food.
I’m sure the wedding-spread was not as good
when Arthur (mighty Albion’s mighty king)
and Guenevere his wife had their wedding,
compared to that prepared for Gotelind.
What food! They really didn’t live on wind!
And when all was prepared, young Helmbrecht sent
his messenger, as had been the intent,
who made all haste to go to Helmbrecht’s farm,
and brought the sister with him on his arm.
When Filch-a-lamb got word that she had come
and Gotelind was now amongst the throng,
he rushed towards her when he saw her there,
and welcomed her in tones courtly and fair:
‘Greetings, good Gotelind, most noble maid.’
‘And to you, Filch-a-lamb,’ the girl replied.
The couple gazed into each other’s eyes
with looks of longing and with loving sighs,
he looked at her, and then she looked at him,
then they gazed at each other once again.
Sir Filch-a-lamb, with gentle loving words
very soon struck a sympathetic chord
with Gotelind, who blushed and glanced away,
and then replied in a most courtly way,
then Gotelind gazed sweetly at her swain,
while lovestruck Filch-a-lamb gazed back again.
A grey-haired elder now came to the fore,
who knew the proper form of service for
the celebration of a marriage, and
inside a circle made the couple stand.
Then first he spoke to Filch-a-lamb, and said:
‘Do you take Gotelind, this lovely maid,
to be your lawful wife? Then say I do.’
‘’course I will,’ said the lad. ‘Too bloody true!’
He asked the young man to reply once more.
He said: ‘Too right, I’ll have her, that’s for sure!’
He tried a third time: ‘Will you say I do?’
The young man said: ‘I keep on telling you
that by my earthly and eternal life
I’ll have this woman gladly for my wife.’
The old man spoke to Gotelind instead:
‘Do you, child, take Sir Filch-a-lamb’ he said,
‘to be your lawful husband? Say I do.’
‘In God’s name yes, if I can have him too!’
‘Do you take Filch-a-lamb … ’ once more he tried.
‘Of course I do. Let’s have him,’ she replied.
And then a third time: ‘Will you have this man?’
‘With pleasure and as often as I can!’
And so he married Gotelind quickly
to Filch-a-lamb before the company,
and the young man, for the rest of his life,
was joined with Gotelind as man and wife.
The guests all sang together after this,
he raised the veil and gave the bride a kiss,
and then they sat down, every single guest
so that they could enjoy the wedding-feast.
The courtly offices were in the hands
of other members of young Helmbrecht’s band.
Helmbrecht (or Gobble-goods) looked after all
the horses of the guests, as the marshal.
Eat-a-ram served the drinks, all of the best,
while Swag-bag ushered in and led the guests
to their appropriate places at the board,
both local friends, and from further abroad,
acting as seneschal. The worst of them,
Sir Rattle-safe, presided as the chamberlain,
Cow-gobbler was the master of the food,
and supervised the kitchens – all the good
roast and stewed meat came from Cow-gobbler – and
the bread was given out by Toss-Pot’s hand.
This was a wedding-feast to beat the lot!
Sir Wolf-throat and his good friend, Sir Wolfsgut,
and Sir Wolf-snout as well – they came, all three,
and they all ate and drank voraciously,
downing a dozen cups of wine at least
to celebrate this splendid wedding-feast.
Before these men, food just melted away
like snowflakes on a burning summer’s day,
or if some mighty storm-wind had just roared
and cleared the food right off the very board.
I know they ate up every single thing
that from the kitchens anyone could bring,
and I don’t think a poor dog, passing by,
would find meat on the bones they had sucked dry.
It doesn’t matter anyway, because
there is a proverb I’d remind you of:
it runs, ‘eat, drink and be merry’ but still
there is another sentence that I’ll tell:
‘eat, drink, enjoy yourself,’ and here is why:
it goes on, ‘for tomorrow we shall die.’
That’s why there was such guzzling of drink;
‘enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think,’
and so it was with this whole would-be court.
It was very much later than they thought.
For suddenly fair Gotelind, the bride,
shuddered, and to her brand-new husband cried:
‘Alas, a chill runs down my spine with fear,
and I feel hostile strangers coming near,
intent on doing us a deal of harm.
Father, mother, why did I leave the farm?
What prompted me this stupid thing to do,
so now I am so far away from you!
Now I’m afraid that those three sacks with all
the plunder, might lead now to my downfall
and cause me nothing but the greatest harm.
I wish that I were back home on the farm,
I wish I’d never come to be a bride,
and now I wait here simply terrified.
I didn’t feast so well at father’s table,
but his food is far preferable
to all the dangers I now have to face
by staying with the others in this place.
I’ve heard it said a thousand times or more
that if you are too greedy, then you’re sure
to lose it all! We’re led by greed
into the very jaws of hell indeed,
because it is a very sinful state.
Alas, I now repent, but it’s too late.
Alas, I listened to my brother’s words,
I wish now that I never would have heard
of Helmbrecht’s plans and what he had in store;
all I can do is weep for evermore.’
The bride, Gotelind, very quickly learned
that farmer He
lmbrecht’s poor fare, that she’d spurned,
would after all have been better by far
than all the fine fish Filch-a-lamb gave her.
For when they all had eaten of the best,
and they had sat awhile to take their rest
and listen to the cheerful minstrelsy
(after the bride and bridegroom paid the fee)
suddenly – what a shock it must have been –
they saw the law-men come upon the scene,
five officers who would enforce the law,
the hanging judge and his assistants four.
They quickly overcame the drunken ten,
though some of them tried to run off again
and hide behind the stove, or under chairs,
and one ran here and the other ran there.
But any that escaped the men of law
was dragged out by the hair across the floor
by the hangman’s assistant – this is true
as the whole tale that I am telling you.
A proper thief, however bold the man may be,
and even if he has the strength of three
still won’t escape the hangman in the end,
and that indeed now happened to all ten.
They were all rounded up and quickly tied
up by the hangman and his men; they tried
to break away, but for their pains
the hangman’s men soon had them clapped in chains.
Gotelind lost her lovely bridal gown,
and by a hedgerow she herself was found
in parlous state without her wedding-dress.
She had to cover up her nakedness
with hands across her breasts – the play
was over, and she’d learned the hardest way.
And what else happened to her after this?
Well, many men were there to bear witness
that God really claims vengeance when there’s need,
and this tale proves that this is true indeed.
A thief may trick a hundred men or more,
but he is powerless before the law.
If our thief only sees a hangman, then
he’ll pale, his eyes will dim, and once again
he’ll become weak, however great his might,
defenceless when faced with the force of right,
so even a lame hangman can, at will,
take him; all his cunning, thieving skill
is useless, whatever his bold intent,
when faced with Justice and God’s Punishment.
And now I’ll tell about the trial, and
the condemnation of this robber band,
when they were taken for their felony
and ended up upon the gallows-tree.
Gotelind had to watch as Filch-a-lamb
had two cow-hides tied to his body, and
The Dedalus Book of Medieval Literature Page 11