Beasts & Men / Folk Tales Collected in Flanders and Illustrated by Jean de Bosschère

“The treasure was discovered first of all by my father. He came upon it one day when he was hunting in the forest, among the ruins of a palace that once belonged to an ancient king. There, in a deep hole, under a big stone, he found the gold and gems, and for ever afterwards he was a changed creature. No longer blithe and care-free, he slunk about as though overburdened with responsibility. He knew himself rich beyond compare—richer than any king in all the world, and gradually into his heart there crept the desire to win, by means of his riches, a place of power.

“At that time, O King, my father was bitter against your Majesty because of your disapproval of his manner of life, and I am sorry to say that he determined to wrest you from the throne and to set up another in your place. Full of this project, he took Tybert the Cat into his confidence. The two met together secretly in the forest of the Ardennes, and after much discussion they decided to offer the throne to Bruin the Bear!”

“Ah!” ejaculated the King, turning his gaze upon Bruin, who was too furious to speak. “So now we know why you wished to still Reynard’s tongue.”

“The Bear was delighted with the prospect,” Reynard went on, “and strutted about the forest as though he were already crowned. He was always talking of the fine laws he would make and the splendid time he would have, but he was too stupid to be of much use as a plotter. Indeed, it was for reason of his stupidity that my father and Tybert chose him as king, for they thought they could make of him a useful tool. They had, however, to lay their plans without him, and the better to carry them out, they called Isengrim the Wolf, and Grimbard the Ape, into conference. The five met together at a certain place between Heyst and Gand, and it was there, O King, that your death was decided upon. Each of the conspirators took a solemn oath not to divulge the proceedings to a living soul, and having settled the very hour and day of your Majesty’s assassination, they departed to their homes.

“Now, like all apes, Grimbard was a chatterer, and no sooner was he within his house than he told his wife all that had happened, explaining to her that it was a great secret and she was not to tell a soul. Of course she promised faithfully to keep a still tongue in her head, and as a matter of fact I believe she did manage to keep the secret for a whole day. Then she happened to meet my wife in the woods, and having sworn her to secrecy, told her the whole thing. My wife, out of a feeling of love and regard to your Majesty, thought it her duty to inform me, which she did, immediately she returned home, without keeping back a single detail.

“I could not believe my ears at first. ‘What! Bruin, king!’ I cried. ‘That great fat lump of hairy stupidity, king of the animals! Is the world going mad? Would they dethrone our loved and gracious lord in favour of so base a beast?’ There and then, O King, I raised my hand above my head and swore to defend your Majesty’s life to the last. ‘While Reynard lives,’ I said, ‘the King’s throne shall be secure, cost what it may!’

“From that moment I thought of nothing else but how best to thwart my father’s base plans. It seemed to me that if I could only discover the treasure I might stop the whole thing, for the conspirators relied upon the gold to pay the armies they intended to raise. For days, therefore, I lurked about the woods, following my father wherever he went, in the hope that, sooner or later, he would betray the treasure’s whereabouts. But he was far too wary to go near it, and had it not been for the stupidity of the Ape I might have remained none the wiser. One day I noticed Grimbard wheeling a barrow through the forest with an air of great secrecy, and following him unseen, at a safe distance, I saw him stop in the midst of the ruins of that ancient palace in the forest. There, at the foot of a great tree, he lifted a heavy stone, discovering a deep hole, from which he took several vases filled to the brim with golden coins. These he placed upon his barrow, and having carefully covered up the hole again, trundled off into the forest.

“No sooner had he disappeared amid the shade of the trees than I ran forward and lifted the stone. What a sight met my eyes! There lay the treasure—chest upon chest of shining gold, and heaps of jewels flashing with rays of many-coloured light. My eyes were nearly blinded by the splendour.

“Even as I stood gazing in a sort of dazed trance, I realized what I must do. If I could get this treasure away from the place where it was hidden, and, unknown to the conspirators, transport it somewhere else, their plot would be strangled at its birth. Unfortunately the treasure was heavy and I had no means of conveyance—not even a barrow, but I took counsel of Hermeline, my wife, and she, noble soul as she is, strengthened me in my resolve. ‘Though we wear our paws to the bone,’ said she, ‘we must take the treasure away and save the life of our noble and our beloved King.’ That very night we began our task, and little by little we moved the treasure, hiding it in a safe place known only to ourselves. For the best part of a month we laboured, working only at night, and fearful every moment that we should be discovered. At last everything was finished, and the whole of the treasure removed.

“In the meantime, the conspiracy gained adherents every day. My father was the life and soul of the plot. He sent messengers far and near, into every corner of the land, to win the animals over to his side. ‘Those who enrol under my banner,’ said he, ‘shall receive a large sum of money paid in advance. I do not ask them to trust my word, but to come to me and let me pour the money into their hands.’ In such circumstance what wonder that his supporters grew every hour. Before long he had gathered together an immense army, which was increased by troops raised by the Bear, the Wolf, and the Cat. Bruin, in particular, was very proud of his success in raising soldiers. He already fancied himself king, and walked about giving orders to everybody who crossed his path.

“Now the time for payment had come, so my father, accompanied by Grimbard and the Cat, made his way to the hiding-place of the treasure to bring out the gold. I watched them from afar, and saw them uncover the hole, and never to my dying day shall I forget the scream my father uttered when he saw that the treasure was no longer there. Frantically the two of them dug up the soil around the place in the hope that they were mistaken, but not a single gold piece could they find. At last Grimbard, chattering with fear, turned and slunk away, while my father crept home and hanged himself with a cord to a nail just outside the back door. A terrible end, O King, but though he was my father, I cannot help feeling he deserved the misery he had brought upon himself. As for Bruin, he found himself faced with the necessity of explaining to the soldiers that no money was forthcoming, and being a coward at heart, he shirked the task. He, too, fled secretly, and Tybert the Cat soon followed. To-day, sire, these three stand among the foremost of my accusers. If I have sinned, have they not sinned too, and in greater measure?”

“Why should I lie, O King?” asked Reynard in an aggrieved tone. “Have I not sworn to tell the truth? In Western Flanders there is a little wood called Husterloo. In the midst of that wood lies a pool, which is known by the name of Krekelput.[1] It is a dreary place, O King, and solitary, for it lies among marshes where no man can pass. No sound is heard in that place save only the call of the carrion-crow by day, and the dismal hooting of the owl by night. There, close to that pool, I hid the treasure, in a hole in the earth which I covered with soil, marking the place with three great stones. Remove those stones, and dig up the soil, and you will discover three enormous golden vases, beautifully carved and modelled. In the first is the royal crown of the ancient King Emrik, which Bruin thought to wear. In the second is the crown of Emrik’s queen—a thing of wonder, flashing with splendid gems; and in the third is the suit of golden armour Emrik wore. Beneath these three vases lies the rest of the treasure—chest after chest of golden coins, ropes of pearls, necklaces of diamonds and rubies, so many gems that I cannot describe them all. If your Majesty will send trusty messengers to Krekelput, they can easily prove the truth of what I say!”

During this recital the King had raised himself from his throne in his excitement, and now he turned to the assembled animals and cried: “Which of you knows Krekelput? Who will go and fetch the treasure?”

Nobody answered, for, as a matter of fact, not a soul present had ever heard of Krekelput before Reynard mentioned the name.

“Come, come,” cried the King. “One of you must know the wood of Husterloo and the pool of which Reynard speaks!”

“Be patient with them, Sire,” said Reynard. “They are afraid to speak. The Hare knows the place very well. Do you not remember, friend,” said he, fixing the Hare with a menacing glance, “you took refuge in the wood of Husterloo one day when the hounds were after you!”

“I cannot remember very well,” stammered the Hare, who was nearly out of his senses with fright. “Perhaps I did!”

“Of course you did,” said Reynard, “and you could find the place again, no doubt?”

“I am not sure,” said the poor Hare, who indeed had never heard of Husterloo.

“A truce to all this!” cried the King impatiently. “If you cannot remember, Reynard shall go with you to refresh your memory, and Bellyn the Ram shall accompany the two of you to see that you do not run away. Be off with you at once, and bring back the treasure as quickly as you can, for my eyes are aching for a sight of Emrik’s crown and the suit of golden armour Emrik wore.”

“And forget not the ropes of pearls and the jewelled coronet!” cried the Queen. “Bring those first!”

“I will bring everything in good time,” said Reynard; “trust me for that. But before I set out on this journey I must go to Rome to ask absolution of the Pope for all the sins I have committed. Suffer me first of all to go on this pilgrimage, O King, and, if you will, send Bellyn and the Hare with me to see that I do not escape. Nothing is further from my thoughts, but after what has happened I cannot expect your Majesty to trust my word, and I am content to go in ward.”

“Be it so!” said the King. “Set off at once and return as soon as may be. And now there is another little affair to settle! Where is Bruin, our would-be king. Stand forth, Bruin, with your precious conspirators, the Wolf, the Cat, and the Ape.” But nobody answered, for seeing how affairs were going all the four had quietly slipped away, fearing to stay and face the vengeance of the King.

Reynard smiled maliciously as he put on a pilgrim’s cloak and marched away with Bellyn and the Hare along the road that led from the Court.

For several miles they walked in silence. Then Reynard sighed and said: “Ah, friends, how I long to see my dear wife and children just once more before I go on this long journey that lies before us. Let us take the road that leads past my castle of Malpertuis. It is not much out of our way, and we can enter there and refresh ourselves.”

The Hare was too frightened to dispute the matter, and Bellyn on his part good-humouredly agreed, so the three of them took the road to Malpertuis, and before long came to the gate of Reynard’s castle.

So Reynard and the Hare went into the house, where they were met by Hermeline, Reynard’s devoted spouse.

“What, husband,” said she, “are you back already? How did things go at Court?”

“Just as I said they would,” answered Reynard. “When the King heard my tale he acquitted me of the charges that had been brought against me, and allowed me to return here in honour. The Wolf, the Bear, and the Cat, who were my most powerful enemies, have fled the Court, so that, for the time being, they have escaped my vengeance; but I have brought with me this fellow whom you see at my side, for he was among the foremost of my accusers!”

When he heard these words the poor Hare trembled with fright, and turned to flee, but in a moment Reynard sprang at his throat. One loud cry he gave for help, but Bellyn, peacefully cropping the grass outside, did not hear, and the next moment the Hare was dead. Then Reynard and Hermeline and all the little foxes had a splendid feast, and in less than half an hour nothing was left of the Hare’s carcass but the head.

While they were still feasting there came a loud knocking at the door. It was Bellyn, who, having eaten his fill, was now impatient with waiting.

Snatching up the head of the Hare Reynard put it into a bag, which he carefully sealed. Then, running to the door, he threw it open.

“You have been a long time!” grumbled Bellyn. “Where is the Hare?”

“Oh, he is just inside, playing with my little ones,” said Reynard. “He’s a merry fellow, that one, and so fond of children that it is beautiful to watch him. Leave him alone for a time. He’ll be out presently. While you are waiting, you might run back to the King with this bag, which he asked me to send him. It contains papers referring to the conspiracy—papers which involve a great many people at Court, in fact nearly all of the animals except yourself. Hurry off with it, and give it into the King’s own hands, and, as you value your life, do not open the bag upon the road, or the King will suspect that you also are involved and have erased your name on the way.”

The army set out, but when they arrived at Malpertuis they found the birds had flown. Reynard and Hermeline and all the little foxes had left the country, and were never seen again.

Some people say that they took up their abode in a distant land, where Reynard soon began once more to play his old tricks, until the King of that land caught him one day red-handed, and hanged him on the nearest tree without giving him a chance to say a word. I do not know whether this story is true, although I hope it is. All that I can say for certain is that Reynard and his family were never seen in King Nobel’s dominions from that day on.

THE MAGIC CAP

“Good-morning, friend! How much are you asking for your goat?”

“Goat?” answered the peasant in surprise. “This is not a goat, but a calf!”

“Indeed!” said the student politely. “And who told you that?”

“It was my wife,” answered the peasant. “‘Jan,’ she said, ‘go to the market and try to sell our calf.’ I am sure she said calf. I could not make a mistake about such a thing!”

“Your wife was playing a joke on you,” said the student. “Anybody can see that is a goat. If you don’t believe me, ask the next person you meet on the road.” And he went off, laughing.

Jan continued his walk, a little troubled in his mind, and before very long he saw the second of the students coming towards him. “Stay a minute, sir,” he cried. “Do you mind looking at this animal of mine and telling me what sort of a creature it is?”

“Why, a goat, of course,” answered the student.

“You’re wrong,” said the peasant. “It’s a calf. My wife says so, and she could not be mistaken!”

“Have it your own way!” replied the student, “but if you’ll take my advice you won’t pretend that animal is a calf when you get to the market, unless you want to be hooted out of the town!”

“Ah!” said Jan, and he went on his way, muttering to himself, and casting many a troubled glance at the innocent calf who ambled along peacefully behind him. “If it is a goat it ought to have horns,” he said to himself. “And it hasn’t got any horns. But if it is a calf it will have horns when it grows to be a cow. Perhaps it is a goat-calf. I wonder whether goat-calves have horns!” And he continued to puzzle his poor brains about the matter until he was suddenly interrupted by a shout from the side of the road. The shout came from the third student, who had been waiting for him.

“Hallo, you there!” cried the student. “How much do you want for your goat?”

“Goat? Goat?” murmured the peasant in dismay. “Here, take the thing. If it’s a goat, I don’t want it, for I was sent to market to sell a calf. You may have it for nothing—I’ll make you a present of it!” And so saying, he pushed the cord into the student’s hand. Then turning his back without another word, he retraced his steps towards his home.

When the next market day came round Jan set off for the town, and by the door of the very first inn on the road he met the three students. They exchanged a sly smile when they saw him, and one of them said: “Good morning, good fellow. And how do you find yourself to-day? I notice that you have no goat with you this time.”

“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Jan, “that was a good joke you played on me, but I bear you no ill-will for it. Come in and drink a glass of wine. I’m in funds this morning and I’ll willingly stand treat.”

The students accepted Jan’s offer with enthusiasm, for they belonged to that class of men who are always thirsty. Accordingly the four went into the tavern; and Jan called for wine. When the time came to pay for it, he called the serving-maid, and taking off his cap, spun it round three times on his finger. “Madam,” said he, “everything is paid for, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir, and thank you very much,” answered the serving-maid.

The three students watched this procedure with a good deal of surprise, but Jan carried off the whole affair as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Now, my friends,” said he, “the doctors say it is bad to drink on an empty stomach. What do you say to a good meal?”

“Excellent,” cried the students.

“Very well then, come along with me to the next inn, and you shall have one.”

Laughing in their sleeves at the peasant’s simplicity, the students followed. Arrived at the inn, Jan ordered dinner for four, and a heap of good things were put upon the table. After the repast, he called the serving-maid to him, took off his cap as before, and twirled it round three times on his finger. “Now then,” said he, “everything is paid for, isn’t that so?”

“Certainly, sir,” answered the serving-maid, “and I am very much obliged to you.”

At this the three students opened their eyes even wider than before, but Jan took not the slightest notice of their astonishment.

“What do you say, friends,” he asked, “shall we go on to the town together and wash the dinner down with a glass of ale apiece?”

“As many as you please,” answered the students joyfully, and so they followed Jan to the town, where he entered a third tavern and ordered drinks all round. Then, taking off his cap once again, he twirled it round three times on his finger, and said to the innkeeper: “Everything is paid for, isn’t it, my good man?”

“Certainly, sir,” said the innkeeper, bowing.

But this was more than the curiosity of the students could stand.

“Look here, gossip,” said one of them, “how is it that you are able to get food and drink for nothing everywhere you go, simply by twirling your cap in people’s faces?”

“Oh, that’s easily explained,” answered Jan, “This cap of mine is a magic cap, which was left to me by my great-great-grandmother, who was a witch, so I have heard say. If I twirl it on my finger, and say, ‘Everything is paid for,’—well, everything is paid for! You understand me?”

“Perfectly,” said the student. “My faith, but that is a wonderful cap—the very thing to have when one goes a journey! Will you sell it to me?”

“How much will you give me for it?” asked Jan.

“Two hundred francs!”

“Nonsense! Do you think I am going to brave my wife’s anger for a paltry two hundred francs?”

“Well then, three hundred.”

“Not enough! My wife says it is worth a fortune.”

“Four hundred.”

Jan shook his head doubtfully, and, seeing his hesitation, the student cried:

“Come now, we’ll give you five hundred, and not a penny more. You’d better accept, or you’ll lose your chance.”

“Well then, hand over the money. I don’t know what my wife will say, but....”

“She’ll give you a kiss for making such a splendid bargain,” cried the student, pushing a bag of coins into Jan’s hand and snatching the magic cap. “Hurry off home as fast as you can to tell her the good news!” Then the three went away, laughing, slapping each other on the back in their joy at having got the better of the simple peasant.

That afternoon the students, eager to take advantage of the qualities of the magic cap, invited about fifty of their friends to a splendid feast at the largest inn in the town. Everybody who was invited came, as you may imagine, and the resources of the innkeeper were taxed to the utmost to supply the hungry and thirsty crowd with all that they wanted. When the feast was ended, the student who had Jan’s cap called the host, and twirling it three times round his finger, said: “Now, sir, everything is paid for, isn’t it?”

“Paid for?” cried the innkeeper. “What do you mean? I’ve not seen the colour of your money yet.”

“I don’t know whether you are trying to play a joke on me?” answered the innkeeper grimly, “but your idea of humour is not mine. You had better pay up at once, before I call the police!”

“Here, let me try,” cried the third; and in his turn he twirled the cap, and, fixing the host with his eye, repeated that everything was paid for.

At this the innkeeper flew into a passion, and made such a fuss that the room was in an uproar. It was only by promising to pay him at once that the innkeeper could be quietened down, and prevented from putting his threat of calling the police into execution. The banquet cost a good round sum, and as the three students had no money left, their invited guests were obliged to subscribe the money between them, which they did with much grumbling. Afterwards they took their three hosts outside and dipped them into the horse-trough to punish them for their bad taste in playing practical jokes on their friends.

And a few miles away, in their little cottage, Jan and his wife sat counting the five hundred francs he had got for his greasy old cap, which indeed had not been left him by his great-great-grandmother, but which was as old and ragged as though it had!

SUGAR-CANDY HOUSE

Now in that house there lived an old wolf whose name was Garon. He was paralysed in one leg, and could not run very fast, but in all other respects he was as fierce and strong as he had been in his youth. When he heard Jan and Jannette breaking off bits of his roof he growled out, “Who is touching my Sugar-Candy House?” Then he came limping out to see who it was, but by that time the children were safely hidden in the woods.

“Who dares to touch my Sugar-Candy House?” roared the wolf again.

Then Jan replied:

This satisfied the old wolf, and back he went to his house, grumbling.

The next day Jan and Jannette once again crossed over the little red bridge, and broke some more candy from the wolf’s house. Out came Garon again, bristling all over.

“Who is touching my Sugar-Candy House?” he roared.

And Jan and Jannette replied:

“Very well,” said the wolf, and he went back again, but this time there was a gleam of suspicion in his eye.

The next day was stormy, and hardly had Jan and Jannette reached the Sugar-Candy House than the wolf came out, and surprised them in the very act of breaking a piece off his window-sill.

“Oho!” said he. “It was the wind so mild, was it? That lovable child, eh? Precious lovable children, I must say! Gr-r-r, I’ll eat them up!” And he sprang at Jan and Jannette, who took to their heels and ran off as fast as their legs could carry them. Garon pursued them at a good speed in spite of his stiff paw, and although he never gained upon them, yet he kept them in sight, and refused to give up the chase. The children looked back once or twice, and saw that the wolf was still following them, but they were not very much afraid, because they were confident of their ability to outrun him.

All of a sudden they found their way barred by a river. There was no bridge across it, and the water was very deep. What were they to do? Nearer and nearer came the wolf!

In the middle of the river some ducks were swimming, and Jan called out to them: “Little ducks! Little ducks! Carry us over the river on your backs, for if you do not the wolf will get us!”

So the ducks came swimming up, and Jan and Jannette climbed each on to the back of one, and were carried safely over to the other bank.

Presently the wolf, in his turn, came to the river. He had seen how the children had managed to cross, and he roared out at the ducks in a terrible voice, “Come and carry me over, or I’ll eat you all up!”

“Very well,” answered the ducks, and they swam to the bank, and Garon balanced himself on four of them, one paw on the back of each. But they had no intention of carrying the wicked old wolf to the other side, for they did not love him or any of his tribe, and, moreover, they objected to his impolite way of asking a favour. So, at a given signal from the leader, all the ducks dived in midstream, and left old Garon struggling in the water. Three times he went down and three times he came up, but the fourth time he sank never to rise any more.

That was the end of old Garon, and a good job, too, say I. I don’t know what became of his Sugar-Candy House, but I dare say, if you could find the wood, and the sun had not melted the candy, or the rain washed it away, you might break a bit of it off for yourselves.

POOR PETER

“I have fallen on bad luck,” answered Peter gloomily. “I have found nothing to-day but two cabbage-stalks and a half-gnawed bone, and to make matters worse, the bone has no marrow in it.”

“Why do you eat such stuff?” asked Reynard disgustedly. “Look at me—I am just as poor as you, yet I live on the fat of the land! And how do I do it, Peter? Why, by using my wits! Cheer up, my friend, you shall be a man of fortune yet, for I’ll take your case in hand myself!”

Reynard was as good as his word. The same day he called at the King’s palace and asked if he might borrow a bushel measure. Such an unusual request from a fox caused some amazement and the matter was brought to the notice of the King himself, who sent for Reynard and asked him what he wanted with such a thing.

“The fact is,” answered Reynard, “that a friend of mine, a certain Lord Jaco Peter, has come by a good deal of money, and he wishes to measure it.”

“Very well,” said the King, “you may take the measure, but I would like to have it back when you have done with it, if you do not mind.”

Off went Reynard with the bushel basket, and the same night, having stuck a couple of sous to the bottom of it with a bit of grease, he sent it back with a message to say that it was not large enough, and might he have another? In reply, the King sent a two-bushel measure, and after a time Reynard sent this back also, with a request for a larger one still. “If I have to measure the money with a thing like this,” said he, “I shall be a month over the task.”

“That friend of yours must be an enormously wealthy man,” said the King. “Let me see—what did you say his name was? Lord Jaco Peter? I do not seem to remember a lord of that name in my dominions!”

“He is a foreign noble,” said Reynard glibly, “who has only lately arrived in this country. He will shortly be coming to pay his respects to your Majesty, for it is his intention to ask for the hand of the Princess, your daughter, in marriage.”

“That is a thing one must consider,” replied the King, “but in the meantime I will gladly give your noble friend an audience.”

Away went Reynard in high feather and recounted to Poor Peter all that had happened. “The affair is as good as finished,” said he, “you shall marry the Princess and sit at the King’s right hand!”

Peter looked down at his clothes, which indeed, were too well ventilated to be quite seemly, and made a grimace. “A fine lord I shall look!” said he, “with my toes sticking out of my boots and holes in my breeches.”

“Never mind about that,” Reynard answered. “Just leave everything to me, and all be well.”

The next day, when the time came for the pair to set out for the palace, Reynard said to his friend: “Now pay great attention to what I have to say. Close by the King’s palace there is a big muddy puddle in the middle of the road. When you come to that puddle I want you to trip over yourself and fall plump into it. Don’t let there be any half measures! Get right into the mud—wallow in it, and smear yourself from head to foot!”

“But why...?” asked Peter.

“Never mind about why. Do as I tell you!”

Poor Peter carried out his directions to the letter. When they reached the puddle he pretended to slip, and fell souse into it, covering himself with a thick layer of mud. At sight of the disaster Reynard began to cry out in dismay, and the guards at the King’s palace, who had seen the accident, came running up to offer their aid.

“Did you fall down?” asked one of them politely. Peter was wiping the mud out of his mouth and could not answer, but the fox cried: “Of course he has fallen down, oaf! Do you think he sat in the puddle for amusement. Don’t stand gaping there, but run to the palace quickly, and borrow a change of clothes, for this is Lord Jaco Peter who is on his way to visit the King. And look you,” he added, as the guards ran off, “see that you bring some robes worthy of my lord’s great estate, or it will be the worse for you!”

Away went the guards, and told the King’s Chamberlain about the catastrophe. A few minutes later they returned bearing with them a magnificent robe of cloth-of-gold, beautifully embroidered and sewn with precious stones. Then they led Peter to a chamber, where he bathed himself and donned his new finery. Unfortunately the Chamberlain had forgotten to send any shoes, so there was Peter with his toes sticking out of his boots under his magnificent gown.