All that day they fared on together, and at night they came to a city
that stood beside a wide river, and whereof the burghers were rich and
of good conditions. The youth made great cheer in that he knew the place
well, and goeth straight unto a house wherein it seemeth him they might
lodge at their ease. He cometh to the door with his master and asketh
shelter in God's name. And right good cheer was theirs methinketh, for
the burgher was a goodly man. A wife he had, and one child, a boy whom
they dearly loved; no other had they and they were already waxing old;
and the boy was ten years of his age. They washed the feet of the two
travellers, and gave them to eat and to drink, and let them sleep until
the day. In the morning when the time was come to depart, "Fair host,"
the varlet saith, "lend us the child for a little, that he may guide
us beyond the bridge since we must pass that way." "That will I gladly.
Come, fair son," and straightway the boy riseth up; he goeth before,
and the other twain follow after. Now when they were come to the bridge,
where there was neither edge-stone nor parapet, the varlet so jostled
the boy that he fell down into the water, and the stream swept him away
and drowned him. "Herein have we done well," saith the varlet; "and
stay, sir hermit, and ye will, for ye shall not be destroyed or slain."
But the hermit set himself to run, for he was all a-sweat with fear, and
well-nigh had he slain himself for sorrow. When he was come into the
fields he cast himself down. "Alas, unhappy that I am, what will become
of me," saith the hermit. "Woe worth the day whereon I was born, for
now I am come to despair and madness. Alas, caitiff that I am, why did I
leave the place whereto I was appointed and wherein I had come to my old
age? The devil hath betrayed and destroyed me. Never again shall I know
joy nor peace. Was I not a party to the burning of the abbey and the
death of the child? Christ! what will become of me? Now with mine own
hands will I slay myself!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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