MAKE WE MERRY MORE AND LESS

An Anthology of Medieval English

Popular Literature

SELECTED AND INTRODUCED BY DOUGLAS GRAY

EDITED BY JANE BLISS
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 Chapter 4

Tales and Legends

This section gives some popular examples of the vast number of short
tales, in both prose and verse, which have survived from the Middle
Ages. ‘Tale’ and ‘legend’ are terms which in medieval English can more
easily overlap than in modern English: together they are the equivalent
of the German Sage (story). In Middle English ‘legend’ is used of the
story or life of a saint, and also more generally for story or ‘account’.
It does not seem to have had the common modern meaning of ‘non-
authentic’ or non-historical, although there were certainly people in the
Middle Ages who questioned the truth of some legends (such as that
King Arthur did not die in his last battle, but lived on). The etymological
background of the two English words are of interest: ‘tale’ is associated
with ‘telling’ or ‘speaking’; ‘legend’ (from Latin, meaning that which is
read) with ‘reading’. Both activities are significant in the performance
and transmission of tales and legends. The two activities, however,
were not then mutually exclusive. Tales and legends were spoken, by
storytellers or preachers, or sung, by entertainers or minstrels; and also
read by the newly literate. But ‘reading’ was sometimes reading aloud,
in public streets or private rooms.1

However the tales and legends were experienced, it is very clear

that medieval ‘folk’ loved them: Chaucer’s Pardoner remarks ‘lewed
peple loven tales olde’, though he also has a cynical eye on the money
to be earned. However, it is difficult to overestimate the vast scope

1 See 1 xlii and 4 ii. 1 xlii is about the priest reading to Margery, in chapter 1 above; 4
ii is the story of Gunnhild, below: ‘sung of in our time in the public streets’.

© 2019 Douglas Gray and Jane Bliss, CC BY-NC 4.0 https://doi.org/10.11647/OBP.0170.04

134 4. Tales and Legends

and variety of these ‘tales olde’, some of which go back to the very
beginnings of recorded literature. It is as if we are confronted by a
vast ocean of stories.2 And the stories are not only of an almost infinite
variety, but they seem wonderfully flexible. They are constantly
changing, being retold or reshaped, being turned into various literary
forms, crossing linguistic or geographical boundaries, sometimes
making their way into highly sophisticated literary works like the
Decameron3 or the Canterbury Tales. Attempts at classifying them are
fraught with difficulties. Here we simply offer some examples of some
significant ‘kinds’. The very common ‘comic tales’ and ‘animal stories’
are given their own chapters.4 This chapter serves as an introduction,
and has examples of kinds such as anecdotes, exemplary stories, local
legends, religious legends and saints’ lives. Some of these continued to
flourish: anecdotes are still with us, still circulating by word of mouth
and feeding a taste for gossip and satire. In the Middle Ages they also
appear in chronicles, and sometimes, it seems, had a role in providing
what became in the hands of chroniclers ‘historical material’ itself.
Other kinds have a significance that we do not always recognise.
‘Exemplary story’ or ‘exemplum’ sounds at first to be a rather dull
category. But the examples are often far from dull: they aim to entertain
as well as to instruct. And they have a considerable literary influence:
in general, helping to form the ‘mentalites’ of sophisticated authors,
all of whom must have heard them. In particular: we sometimes find
echoes of their simple, pungent style in literary storytelling, and even
in ‘mystical’ works when their authors turn to stories (compare Julian
of Norwich’s description of Christ as a lord in his house, presiding
over a stately and joyous feast, or her tale of the Lord and the Servant;5
and Margery Kempe’s own exemplum,6 which wins the approval of
the archbishop).

Many of these tales are told in a manner which seems close to the
speaking voice of an oral taleteller. It is very likely that behind our

2 Gray’s chapter on different kinds of narrative, in Simple Forms, is entitled The Ocean
of Story.
3 The Decameron is a collection of stories or novellas written in Italian, in the fourteenth
century, by Giovanni Boccaccio.
4 Chapter 5, Merry (Comic) Tales; and chapter 6, Animal Tales.
5 Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love, trans. Wolters, chapters 14 & 51.
6 Extract xlvi, Margery’s Own Tale, in chapter 1 (Voices from the Past) above.
 A. Anecdotes and Tales in Chronicles  135

examples recorded in manuscript or print there lies a mass of oral stories,

now lost forever. This lost corpus would have contained examples of
what the Swiss folklorist Max Lüthi thought of as two basic forms in the
prehistory of narrative: the Volksmärchen or folktale (with its strange
magical clarity, its absolute demands, its simple ‘one-dimensionality’),
and Volkssage or traditional story (with a more ‘historic’ setting in a
more familiar world, and some concern with human emotions and
relationships). These basic forms also lie behind our recorded copies
of narrative ballads and popular romances. Many of our recorded
examples of tales and legends seem close to the Volkssage, but we
sometimes catch glimpses of the simpler Volksmärchen and its motifs.7

A. Anecdotes and Tales in Chronicles

As well as the ‘lewed peple’, chroniclers loved tales and anecdotes. Some
of the stories they used are still remembered: Cnut and the sea, Alfred
and the cakes; or Lady Godiva of Coventry, who rescued the town from
the servitude of an oppressive tax by riding naked (veiled by her long
hair) through the streets. And there are very many others, on a variety
of topics. William of Newburgh records the finding of fairy children,
the Lanercost chronicle records a story of King Arthur living on after
his last battle, and there are gossipy stories about Fair Rosamund, the
mistress of Henry II.8 Here we have two anecdotes from early medieval
chroniclers, concerning the warrior Siward, whose fame lived on in later
lore, and of Gunnhild, whose trials seem to have later become the ballad
of Sir Aldingar.

i) Siward9

About this time [1054] Siward the brave earl of Northumbria, almost
a giant in size and very tough in both hand and mind, sent his son to
subjugate Scotland. When messengers reported his death in battle to

7 See Simple Forms, Chapter 7, for a fuller discussion of points raised in this
introduction, including references.
8 These well-known stories can easily be found by consulting reference works, or
the internet; space does not permit detailed descriptions of texts not selected for
inclusion in this anthology.
9 In Henry of Huntingdon’s Chronicle, trans. Forester, pp. 204 & 205.
136 4. Tales and Legends

his father, he said ‘Did he receive the lethal wound in his front or in
his back?’ ‘In the front’, said the messengers. And he said, ‘I rejoice
wholeheartedly, for I would not consider any other death worthy of me
or my son.’ And so Siward left for Scotland and overcame its king in
battle, ravaged the whole kingdom and subjected it to himself …

… In the next year [1055] the stern earl Siward was smitten by a ‘flux’, a
discharge from or in the stomach, and, sensing that death was imminent,
said ‘How deeply shameful it is to me not to have been able to die in
the many battles I have fought but am left to die with dishonour in the
manner of cows. Put on my invincible breastplate, gird my sword about
me, place my shield in my left hand, and my axe adorned with gold in
my right, so that the most courageous of warriors may die dressed like
a warrior.’ He spoke thus and, fully armed, as he had said, breathed out
his spirit.

ii) Gunnhild10

Harthcnut … sent his sister Gunnhild, the daughter of Cnut by Emma, a

maiden of outstanding beauty, who in the time of her father was sighed
for by many wooers, but not won, in marriage to Henry the emperor of
the Germans. Thronged and distinguished was that wedding festivity,
and it is still sung of in our time in the public streets. The maiden of so
great a name was led to the ship surrounded by all the princes of England
… She came thus to her husband, and for a long time she cherished her
matrimonial vows. However, finally she was accused of adultery, and
she put forward a little boy, a nursling who kept her pet starling, to
battle in a duel with her denouncer, who was a man of gigantic build,
since her other servants avoided it out of laziness and fear. And so,
when combat was joined, through a miracle from God, the accuser was
cut down in the hollow of the knee, and fell. Gunnhild, rejoicing in their
unhoped for triumph, gave her husband notice of separation; nor could
she be prevailed upon any longer by threats or enticements to come to
his bedchamber again, but taking the religious veil, in the service of
God, she grew old gently and peacefully.

10 The source is William of Malmesbury’s Kings Before the Norman Conquest (trans.
Stephenson), p. 179; it is also in Gray’s From the Norman Conquest, pp. 66–7.
 B. Moral Tales, Exempla  137

B. Moral Tales, Exempla

These are very common, and were often used in sermons: the brief stories
could be elaborated or adapted in various ways by preachers. Probably
oral ‘performance’ would make them more emphatic and memorable
than when read on the page. Sometimes they could form the basis for
more ‘literary’ versions, sometimes they themselves are abbreviated
‘epitomes’ of longer versions. They are to be found in various story-
collections: Dives and Pauper, Jacob’s Well, the Book of the Knight of
Latour Landry.11 This selection is from The Alphabet of Tales.12

iii) The Cursed Dancers13

… a preste that hight Tulius on a tyme opon the Yole-evyn said mes in
a kurk of saynt Magnus. And ther was in the kurk-garthe [churchyard]
a grete meneya of men and women dawnssand in a cercle and syngand
carals, and lettid [hindered] dyvyne serves with ther noyse and ther cry.
And this preste commaundid thaim to lefe, and thay wold not for hym.
And when he saw thai wold not lefe, in his mes he prayed unto God and
saynt Magnus that it mot please thaim at [that] thai suld abide so still
unto the yere end; and so thai did. And all that yere nowder rayn nor
snaw fell opon thaim, nor thai wer never hongrie nor thrustie … bod
[but] ever thai went aboute syngand carals as thai had be mad folk. And
ther was a yong man that had his sister emang thaim, and he tuke hur be
the arm and wold hafe drowen hur fro thaim, and he pullid of hur arm,
and ther come no blode further [forth], bod sho dawnsid on still, and
thus thai did all the yere to [until] it was passed. And than Hubertus at
was bysshopp of Colayn [Cologne] [com] and assoylid thaim and lowsid
thaim oute of this band, and recownceld ther befor the altar. And ther
dyed of thaim ther a man and ii women, and all the toder [others] slepid
.iii. dayes and .iii. nyghtes togeder, and som of thaim had a trembling of
all ther bodie evur after ewhils [whilst] thai liffid. And this happened in
a town of Ducheland [Germany] in the yere of owr Lord m.l.x.

11 As explained above, space does not permit detailed reference to works not excerpted
for this anthology (Jacob’s Well is mentioned again below, among Animal Proverbs).
12 An Alphabet of Tales, ed. Banks, in EETS.
13 Tale CCXV, Chorizare. A version of this story, The Dancers of Colbek, is printed in
Fourteenth Century Verse and Prose. Another is in William of Malmesbury (Kings,
p. 158).
138 4. Tales and Legends

iv) A Merry Poor Man14

… Ther was a pure man that with the labur off his handis unnethis
[scarcely] cuthe get his liflod [livelihood], for when he had suppid,
ther lefte right noght over night unto in the morning; and evur he
was merie, to so mekull that everilk night, when he was in his bed
with his wife, he wolde, and sho [she], syng a sang merelie at [that]
all ther neghburs mott here, and than thai wold fall on slepe. So ther
neghburs had grete mervall theroff, and one of thaim said, ‘I sall make
swilk [such] a way at I sall gar [cause] hym lefe hys syngyng’. And
in presens of som of his neghburs, opon a night he tuke a sachell full
of sylver, and lete fall afor [before] this pure mans dure [door]. And
when at he rase and sulde go furth to seke his liflod, he fande this
bagg, and he tuke it up and turnyd agayn therwith into his howse and
hid it. So on the night after, als tyte [as soon] as he was in his bed, he
umthoght [considered] hym in his mynde what he wolde do therwith;
and he was ferd therfor that he war not culpid [found guilty] with
felony therfor, and also at no thevis sulde stele it from hym, or if so be
at he boght or solde therwith, or boght any lande, he mond [would]
be suspecte, unto so mekull at he was so occupyed in his thoght that
at that nyght he sang not, nor was not merie, bod a grete while after
he was passand [very] hevie and thoghtfull. And than his neghburs
askid hym whi he was so hevie, and whi he sang nott as he was wunte
to do; and he wolde nott tell thaim the treuth. And than he at aght
[owned] this money said unto hym, ‘I knaw the treuth; for suche a
day and in suche a place thou fande my money, and tuke it up at I
and my neghburs saw, and had it into thi howse.’ And when he hard
this he wex [grew] ferd and shamefull, and sayd, ‘Woo wurth [befall]
that money that hase turment me thus, for sen [since] that I fand it I
had never joy in my harte; and I hafe bene trubbled in my witt ever
syne, mor than ever I was before when I with grete labur of my bodie
and my handis gat my meat [food]. And therfor take thi money thi
selfe agayn, at I may syng and be mery as I was wunte to done.’ And
so he did; and fro [after] it was gone, this pure man made als merie
as evur did he.

14 Tale CCLXXVI, Diuicijis preponende sunt condiciones bone.

 B. Moral Tales, Exempla  139

v) Alexander and the Pirate15

… Ther was a maister of a ship that hight [was called] Dironides, and he
was a grete robber be the se; so on a tyme hym happend to be taken and
broght befor kyng Alexander. And kyng Alexander askid hym whi he
usid suche ribburi [robbery] with his shupp; and he ansswerd agayn and
said, ‘Whi laburs thou to hafe dominacion of all this werld, and I that
usis bod [but] a little schup, I am callid a thefe, and thou that usis to rob
and refe with a grete navie of schuppis erte callid ane emperour? And
forsuthe, thou sall verelie know, that, and [if] rightwusnes be removid
away, what er kyngisdomis? Not els bod grete thyfte; and what er little
kyngdoms? Not els bod little thifte. And thus, thou erte a grete thefe,
and I am bod a little thefe.’

vi) Envy is found even in Little Girls16

… In Freseland in a nonrie there was ii little maydens that lernyd on the

buke, and ever thai strafe [strove] whethur [which] of thaim shulde lern
mor than the toder. So the tane [one] of thaim happend to fall seke, and
sho garte [caused] call the priores unto hur and sayd, ‘Gude ladie, suffer
nott my felow to lern unto [until] I cover [recover] of my sekenes. And I
sall pray my moder to gif me vi d. and that I sall giff you and [if] ye do
so; for I drede that whils I am seke that sho sall pas me in lernyng, and
that I wolde not at sho did’; and at this wurde the priores smylid and
had grete mervayle of the damysell consyte [thought].

vii) A Lecherous Woman is carried off to Hell17

We rede of a prestis concubyne, that when she was bown to dye sho
cried opon thaim at was aboute hur with grete instans, and bad thaim
gar make hur a payr of hy bottois [boots] and put thaim on hur leggis
for thai war passand necessarie unto hur, and so thai did. And opon the
night after, the mone shane bright, and a knight and his servand was
rydand in the feldis togedur, and ther come a woman rynand fast unto
thaim, cryand, and prayed thaim helpe hur. And onone this knught light

15 Tale CCCXXXIV, Fures possunt dici multi principes et prelati.

16 Tale CCCXCVI, Inuidia aliqualis eciam in puellis paruis reperitur.
17 Tale CCCCLVI, Luxuriosam mulierem diabolus ad infernum portauit.
140 4. Tales and Legends

and betaght his man his hors, and he kennyd [recognised] the womman
wele enogh, and he made a cercle abowte hym wth his swerd, and tuke
hur in unto hym; and sho had nothing on bod [but] hur sarke [shirt] and
thies buttois. And belife he harde a blaste of ane ugsom horn at [that] a
hunter blew horrible, and huge barkyng of hundis. And als sone as thai
hard, this womman was passand ferde. And this knight spirrid [asked]
hur whi sho was so ferd, and sho tellid hym all; and he light [alighted]
and tuke the tressis of hur hare and wappid it strayte abowte his arm,
and in his right arm he helde his swerd drawen. And belife [at once] this
hunter of hell come at hand, and than this womman said, ‘Lat me go,
for he commys.’ And this knight held hur still, and this womman pullid
faste and wolde hafe bene away. So at the laste sho pullid so faste at all
hure hare braste of hur heade, and sho ran away and this fend folowd
after and tuke hur, and keste hur overthwarte behind hym on his hors at
[so that] hur hede and hur armys hang down on the ta [one] syde, and
hur legis on the toder syde. And thus, when he had his pray, he rade
his ways, and be [by] than it was nere day. And this knight went in the
morning unto the town, and he fand this womman new dead, and he
teld all as he had sene, and shewid the hare at was wappid abowte his
arm. And thai lukyd hur head ther sho lay, and thai fande how all the
hare was plukkid of be the rutis.

viii) The Weeping Puppy18

A common story, told by Petrus Alfonsi and others. Sometimes the

elements of a ‘merry tale’ in it are developed (cf. the Early Middle
English Dame Sirith),19 but here it is firmly moral with the title Mulier
mediatrix aliam ad peccatum inducit: a female go-between leads another
woman into sin.

Petrus Alphonsis tellis how som tyme ther was a wurshupfull man that
went on pylgramage, and he had a gude wyfe and a chaste. So ther was
a yong man that luffid hur passandly, and wolde hafe giffen hur grete
giftis to hafe had his luste on hur, and sho wolde not on no wyse. So at the
laste he fell seke for sorrow at he mot not spede [succeed], and lay in his

18 Tale DXXXVII (the title is as Gray gives it).

19 In Early Middle English Verse and Prose; it is also (moralized) in A Hundred Merry Tales
(ed. Zall), pp. 33–5.
 B. Moral Tales, Exempla  141

bed. So ther come in ane olde wyfe and vysitt hym and askid hym what
was the cauce at he was seke for. And he oppynd his herte unto hur and
tolde hur all that hym aylid. And sho said hym thurte [he needed] not
be seke herfor, sho cuthe help hym well enogh. And he promysid hur
a gude rewarde to helpe hym. So sho had a little bykk [bitch] whelpe;
and sho held it fastand ii dayes. So on the iii day sho made a cake of
mustard and mele and gaff it, and it ete it; and for bytuernes of the
musterd it began hugely to grete [weep], and the een [eyes] therof to
ryn. So sho went unto this gude wyfe hows, and this whelpe folowid
hur. And sho, becauce sho was ane olde wyfe, welcomyd hur fayre, and
gaff hur meat and drynk. So at the laste sho askid hur what this whelpe
aylid to wepe thus. And sho ansswerd and said, ‘Dere dame, it is no
mervell if I make sorow and wepe, for this whelpe was my doghter, and
was a full leall [loyal] maydyn, and a gude and a fayr. And becauce sho
wolde not consent unto a yong man that luffid hur, to be his luff, thus
sho was shapen to be a biche whelpe.’ And with that sho lete as sho
swownyd and wepid sore. So this gude wyfe made mekull sorow, and
said, ‘What mon I do? Allas! for I am in the same cace; for a yong man
luffis me and I have dispysid hym, and I am aferd that I sall oght [have
to] be mysshapend.’ And than the olde wyfe ansswerd and cownceld
hur to consent unto hym, and latt hym hafe his liste at [so that] sho wer
not forshapyn and made a byche whelpe. And sho prayed hur to go for
hym, and so sho did and fechid hym unto this womman, and ther he
had his luste and his desire, and this false alde when [woman] had a
gude rewarde of ather [each] partie.

ix) Pope Joan20

We rede in cronicles how som tyme ther was a yong damysell, and a luff
[lover] of hurs went away with hur and broght hur in mans clothyng
unto Rome, and ther sho went unto the scule and wex [became] so
parfyte in connyng [learning] that sho had no make [equal] in all Rome.
So at the laste, be ane hole consent, sho was chosyn to be pope, and
was made pope. And when she was pope hur luff lay with hur and gatt
hur with chylde, so he wiste not at sho was with childe to [until] sho

20 Tale DCI, Papa. Papa mulier creatur. This well-known legend has been told and retold
by many, including the novelist Lawrence Durrell.
142 4. Tales and Legends

was evyn at travellyng [labour]. So hur happened on a day to com in

procession fro saynt Peturs unto saynt John Latarenens [Lateran], and
ther sho began to travel, and bare hur chylde betwixt Colliseum and
saynt Clemett kurk; and ther sho dyed, and ther thai berid hur. And
becauce of that detestable dead [deed], the pope usid never syne to com
theraway with procession, and herefor hur name is nott putt emang
[among] other popes namis in the Martiloge.

x) The Fate of an English Witch21

… som tyme ther was in Englond a womman that usid sorcerie. And on
a day as sho was bown [ready] to eatt, sho hard a craw [crow] cry beside
hur, and sodanlie the knyfe that was in hur hande fell. And hereby sho
demyd at [that] hur dead [death] drew nere, and so sho fell seke, bown
to dye. And sho sent after a monk and a non that was hur childer and
chargid thaim in hur blissyng that anone [as soon] as sho war dead thai
sulde sew hur in a harte-skyn, and than at thai sulde close hur in a tombe
of stone, and at thai sulde feste [fasten] the coveryng theron stronglie
bothe with lead and strong yrn, and at thai sulde close this stane and
bynde it aboute with iii strang chynys [chains], and than at thai sulde do
mes [Mass] and pray for hur aboute hur bodye. And if sho lay so sekurlie
[securely] iii dayes, than sho chargid thaim to bery hur upon the iiii day
in the erth. And so all this was done, and ii furste nyghtis, as clerkis was
sayand ther prayers aboute hur, fendis [fiends] brak the yatis [gates]
of the kurk, and come in unto hur and brak ii of the chynys that was at
ather end; and the myddyll chyne abade [remained] still hale [whole].
And upon the iii nyght aboute cokkraw [cockrow], ther come in suche a
throng of fendis at thai at saw it semyd at the temple turnyd upsadown.
So ther come a fend at was maste ugsom [horrible] of all, and hyer than
any of the toder [others] was, and he come unto this tombe and called
hur be hur name and bad hur ryse. And sho ansswerd agayn and sayde
sho mot not for the bondis at was bon [bound] aboute the tombe. And he
bad lowse thaim. And onone [instantly] at his commandment the chyne
braste [broke] as it had bene hardis [coarse flax], and the covering of the
tombe flow [flew] off. And ther he tuke hur oppynlie befor all men and

21 Tale DCCXXVIII, Sortilegi puniuntur.

 C. Local Legends  143

bar hut oute of the kurk. And ther befor the yatis ther was ordand a blak
hors, and that ane uglie, and hereoppon was sho sett. And than onone
sho and all this felowshup vanysshid away.

C. Local Legends
According to Westwood and Simpson, editors of The Lore of the Land
(a vast and valuable collection of English examples), local legend is
‘a kind of folktale which centres on some specific place, person, or
object which really exists or has existed within the knowledge of those
telling and hearing the story; it means a great deal to those living in
a particular area, or visiting and exploring it, but in most cases has
not become widely known outside its own community.’22 It could
therefore, in theory, be easily distinguishable from the more general
and less geographically specific ‘legend’. However, it is not always
easy when dealing with possible medieval examples to isolate or
distinguish them in this way, for two obvious reasons. First, because
we do not have precise details of their transmission, and also because
the world of medieval story is characterised by movement: stories
travel about, often very widely. They are retold, adapted for various
purposes, and may be attached to various places where they may find
a new home. References to places may sometimes be rather arbitrary:
according to the prologue to Sir Orfeo, Winchester used to be called
Thrace. Alexander Neckham says that Cirencester (where he was
abbot) received the name of Urbs Passerum because the Saxon invaders
devised a cunning plan to overcome the British defenders by sending
in sparrows with burning straws fastened to their tails to burn the
roofs of houses; this story is also found in Gaimar and other writers,
but apparently similar stories and strategems are found elsewhere.23
Geoffrey of Monmouth says that the Saxon Hengist asked Vortigern for
enough land as can be encircled by a single thong.24 By finely cutting
the hide of a bull he made one long enough to mark out ground for a
great fortress. The place took its name from the thong, Castrum Corrigie

22 Introduction, p. 3.
23 See Gaimar’s Estoire, note to vv. 856–70.
24 Geoffrey, trans. Thorpe, pp. 158–9.
144 4. Tales and Legends

(modern Caistor). The story is similar to that in Virgil, of Dido and the
founding of Carthage.25 Henry of Huntingdon’s brief story of the Brave
Man of Balsham may well be a traditional local legend: when the Danes
had ravaged East Anglia and burnt Cambridge they went through the
Gog Magog hills and came to Balsham, where they killed everyone they
found, throwing the children up in the air and catching them on the
sharp points of their spears. But one man, ‘worthy of widespread fame’
went up the steps of the church tower, ‘which stands there at this day’,26
and ‘made secure as much by the position as by his bravery’ fought
the whole army.27 However, though there are similar stories of a lone
hero resisting a great force, like local legends recorded later, medieval
examples are often associated with strange or eerie places. Stonehenge
had aready produced one: according to Geoffrey of Monmouth the
stones were transported to England by Merlin from Ireland, where
they were called the Giants’ Ring because giants had brought them
there from Africa.28 We give a few examples from the twelfth-century
chronicler Gervase of Tilbury, who seems to have a particular interest
in this type of story.

xi) Peak Cavern: a passageway to the Antipodes29

In greater Britain there is a castle placed among mountains, to which

the people have given the name of the Peak. Its defences are almost
impregnable, and in the hill is a cavernous opening which from time to
time belches out, and very powerfully, a wind, like a pipe. The people
marvel whence such a wind comes, and among other things which
happen there causing further wonder, I have heard from a very religious
man, Robert, Prior of Kenilworth, who originated from that area, that

25 The agreement was for an area no larger than could be covered by a single hide;
cutting the hide into thin strips made a much larger area possible. See OCCL for
Dido, whose task was to use a single hide; in Mannyng’s Chronicle (vv. 7499–512) he
asks for as much land as can be covered by a single ‘boles hyd’.
26 This is an example of the ‘still-there’ motif, gleefully exploited by medieval authors
to prove the veracity of their narrative.
27 Henry of Huntingdon’s Chronicle, the year 1010 (pp. 188–9 in Forester’s translation).
28 Geoffrey trans. Thorpe, pp. 196–7.
29 Of the four passages from Gervase in this anthology, just this one matches the
passage numbered (c) in Gray’s From the Norman Conquest (pp. 90–1). As before, he
has clearly made his own translation. See Gervase, ed. and trans. Banks and Binns,
pp. 642–5.
 C. Local Legends  145

when the nobleman William Peveril owned the castle with the adjoining
estate, an active and powerful man, rich in diverse livestock, one day his
swineherd was dilatory in the duty entrusted to him, and lost a pregnant
sow, of a very superior kind. Fearing therefore the sharp words of his
lord’s steward, he pondered whether by any chance the sow might have
stolen into the famous, but yet uninvestigated, cave of Peak. He decided
that he would explore that hidden place. He went into the cavern at a
time when it was without any wind, and after travelling for a long time
he completed his journey and at length came out from the darkness,
free, into a bright place, a spacious level plain of fields. Going into the
land, which was extensively cultivated, he found reapers gathering ripe
produce, and among the hanging ears of corn he recognised the sow,
which had brought forth from herself little pigs. Then the swineherd,
amazed and rejoicing that his loss was repaired, related the events, just
as they had happened, to the bailiff of that land; he was given back the
sow, and sent off joyfully; and led forth his herd of pigs. A wonderful
thing: coming back from the subterranean harvest he saw the wintry
cold continuing in our hemisphere, which I have been rightly led to
ascribe to the absence of the sun and its presence elsewhere.

xii) Laikibrais; Saint Simeon’s Horn, and a mysterious Dog30

There is in greater Britain a forest,31 filled with many kinds of game,

which looks upon the town of Carlisle. Almost in the middle of this
forest is a valley fenced around by hills near a public road. Every day
at the first hour is heard a sweet sound of bells, and for this reason the
local inhabitants have called that deserted spot Laikibrais in the Gallic
(Welsh, or French) language.

In this same forest a more marvellous event happened. There was a town
named Penrith within the borders of that forest. A knight, springing
from that town, when he was hunting in the forest far removed from
the noise of men, was alarmed by a sudden tempest with thunder and
lightning flashes. When, here and there, flashes of lightning set the
forest on fire, he glimpsed a large hound passing, becoming visible in

30 In Gervase, ed. and trans. Banks and Binns, pp. 690–5.
31 Inglewood Forest; the ‘lake that cries’ is probably the fabled Tarn Wathelyn (see
note in edition).
146 4. Tales and Legends

the storm, and fire was flashing from its throat. The knight, terrified
by such an amazing vision, was unexpectedly met by another knight
carrying in his hand a hunting horn. Filled with fear, he approached this
figure, and revealed the reason for his fear. ‘Hearken,’ said the sudden
arrival comfortingly, ‘Put aside your fear. I am Saint Simeon, whom
you called on and entreated in the midst of the lightning. I give you
this horn for the perpetual defence of yourself and your household, so
that whenever you are afraid of lightning or thunder you can blow the
horn and at once all fear of threatening danger will disappear, nor will
lightning have any power within the area where the sound of the horn
may be heard.’ Upon this Saint Simeon inquired if our knight had seen
anything which had excited any amazement or wonder in him. In reply
he said that he had seen a hound with fire blazing from its open mouth.
Saint Simeon vanished in search of it, leaving the horn with the knight
as a remembrance of the happening and as a lasting protection for his
household. It has been seen by many, and marvelled at. It is lengthy,
and twisted back in the style of hunting horns, as if it were made from
the horn of an ox. And furthermore the dog which we spoke of went
into a priest’s house on the edge of that town, making its way through
the entrance apparently firmly closed against it, and set fire to his house
with its unlawfully begotten family.

xiii) Wandlebury Ring32

In England, on the edges of the diocese of Ely, is a town, Cambridge by

name; and nearby, within its area, a place which men call Wandlebury,
because the Vandals camped there as they were devastating parts of
Britain and destroying the Christians. There, on the peak of a small hill
where they set up their tents, is a circular plain, enclosed by ramparts,
with a single entrance in the manner of a gate offering access. There is
a tale from ancient times supported by popular account that if a knight
goes into this level area after nightfall, when the moon is shining, and
cries aloud ‘Let a knight come forth against a knight!’ at once a knight
will hasten out against him, prepared for combat, and with their horses
galloping together he either unhorses his opponent or is himself thrown

Ibid. pp. 668–73.

32 
 C. Local Legends  147

down. But first, a knight must enter the circle through that entrance
alone, though his companions are not prevented from seeing the conflict
from outside …

To support the truth of this tale, Gervase cites the case of Osbert
FitzHugh, a twelfth-century knight who put it to the test: he felled his
adversary, and captured his horse, but was wounded in the thigh. The
challenger disappeared. The horse was black, with grim wild eyes; at
cockcrow it broke loose, galloped off, and disappeared. Every year,
on the same night and at the same time, Osbert’s wound would break
open again.

xiv) A Mysterious Drinking Horn33

Another event no less marvellous, and well enough known, happened

in greater Britain. There was in the county of Gloucestershire a hunting
forest,34 filled with bears, stags and all kinds of game found in England.
Here in a dale filled with trees was a little knoll, its top as high as a
man’s stature on which knights and huntsmen are accustomed to
ascend when, tired by the heat and thirst, they tried to find a remedy
for their condition. Thanks to this place and its nature, if anybody
leaving his companions climbed up it by himself, and then, as if he
was talking to another person, were to say ‘I am thirsty’, immediately,
and unexpectedly, a cupbearer was standing by his side, impressively
attired, and with a cheerful countenance holding in his hand and
offering to him a great horn, like that used by he English in olden times
for a drinking goblet. A nectar of unknown but most pleasant taste
was offered to him; when he drank it all the heat and tiredness of his
warm body would vanish, so that anybody would imagine not that he
had been toiling away, but wished to seize the opportunity to toil once
again. When he had drunk the nectar the attendant offered him a towel
to dry his mouth, and having done his service he vanished, nor did he
look for a reward for his trouble, nor conversation and inquiry …

33 Ibid. pp. 672–5.

34 Probably the Forest of Dean.
148 4. Tales and Legends

This lasted for many years, until one day a knight out hunting did not
return the horn according to the proper custom, but kept it for himself.
However, the earl of Gloucester did not wish to countenance a theft and
gave the horn to King Henry.

D. More ‘free-standing’ Literary Examples

More ‘free-standing’ literary examples (of which there are many),
represented by a story about Hereward and a nice moral tale, The Childe
of Bristowe.

xv) Hereward

The deeds of the eleventh-century English hero Hereward were

celebrated by the people in songs and dances, and apparently in oral
tales. Some made their way into the twelfth-century French verse
chronicle of Gaimar, L’Estoire des Engleis, others into the Latin Gesta
Herewardi, and The Book of Ely.35

The English rebelling against William the Conqueror around Ely and
its fens were surrounded by the Conqueror’s forces, and eventually
begged for mercy …

… Except Hereward, who was so noble.

With a few men he escaped, and with him
Geri, one of his relatives,
And five companions with them.
A man who brought fish to the guards
Along the marshes, acted
As a good and courteous man:
Sheltered them in a boat of reed,
Completely covered them with rushes;
And began to row towards the guards,

35 The following extract is from Gaimar’s Estoire, vv. 5492–544 (ed. Bell). Gaimar’s
patron was a Lincolnshire noblewoman. Gray will have made his own translation
(see also his From the Norman Conquest, pp. 154–6).
 D. More ‘free-standing’ Literary Examples  149

And when one evening it began to darken,

Came close to the dwellings with his boat.
The French were in a tent,
The viscount Guy was their leader;
He recognized the fisherman,
And they knew that he often came,
So none of them took note of him;
They saw the fisherman rowing.
It was night, and they sat at meat.
Out of the boat came Hereward,
He was as fierce as a leopard,
And his companions followed him.
They made for the tent under a bush,
With them went the fisherman —
Hereward was formerly his lord.
What can I say? Those knights
Were taken by surprise as they ate.
They came in with axes in their hands,
And were not unskilled in striking hard;
They killed six and twenty Normans
And twelve Englishmen were killed there.
Terror spread throughout the dwellings,
And everyone took to flight.
They abandoned horses still saddled,
Onto which the outlaws mounted
At leisure and in safety;
They had no trouble there at all,
And went away happy at their misdeeds.
Each one picked out a very good horse.
The woods were near, and they entered them,
They did not lose their way,
They knew all that country very well!
There were many of their friends there.
At a town which they came to
They found ten of their close friends
150 4. Tales and Legends

And these joined up with Hereward.

Once they were eight, now more than ten,
Ten and eight are the companions now;
Before they passed Huntingdon
They had a hundred men, well armed,
Close liegemen of Hereward …

xvi) The Childe of Bristowe36

A man who has studied law and learnt how to beguile poor men has a
son on whom he dotes. In order to make his son rich he ‘rought not whom
he beguiled’. The young child, set to learning, becomes ‘wise and witty’
and fears ‘al dedis derke’. The father is keen for him to study law, so
that no one will be able to beguile him, but the son has other ideas. ‘The
child answerd with a softe sawe: They fare ful well that lerne no lawe,
And so I hope to do’; he fears to imperil his soul ‘for any wynnyng of
worldes welthe’, and is determined to be a merchant: ‘that good getyn by
marchantye’ is ‘trouthe’. He goes to Bristol and is engaged to a merchant
there, ‘a just trew man’, for seven years. He does well, loves God, and ‘al
marchauntz loved hym, yong and olde.’ Meanwhile his father continues
his dubious behaviour until he falls sick and draws towards his end. On
his deathbed he discovers that no one in the neighbourhood is prepared
to be his executor; he sends for his son and heir (‘moche good have y
gadred togeder With extorcion and dedis lither’ ­— all for the son) and
eventually persuades him to be his attorney. But the son binds him with
another charge: that a fortnight after his death his spirit should appear
and report on his fate. When the father dies, the son arranges for masses,
sells his father’s goods, and distributes the proceeds to the poor. But the
gold is soon gone … [stanzas 39–46]

… By than the fourtenyght was broght to ende,

The child to the chamber gan wende,
Wher his fader dyed.
Adoun he knelid half a day;

36 In Camden Miscellany, ed. Hopper, vol. IV.

 D. More ‘free-standing’ Literary Examples  151

Al the good prayers that he couthe say,

His fader for to abide.º wait for

Betwene mydday and underº afternoon

Ther cam a blast of lightning and dunder
Thurgh the walles wide,
As al the place on fire had be;
The child seid ‘Benedicite!’º God bless!
And fast on God he cryde.

And as he sate on his prayere,

Sone before hym gan appere
Foule tydynges betwene,º meanwhile
His faders soule brennyngº as glede; burning
The devel bi the nekke gan hym lede
In a brennyng cheyne.

This child seid, ‘I conjure the,

Whatsoever thu be, speke to me.’
That other answerd ageyne,
‘Y am thy fader that the begate;
Now thu may se of myn astate;º condition
Lo, how y dwelle in peyne.’

The child seid, ‘Ful woo is me,

In this plyte that [y] yow se;
It pershethº myn hert sore.’ pierces
‘Sone,’ he seid, ‘thus am y led
For because of my falshed
That y used ever more.

Mi good was getyn wrongfully,

Butº it myght restord be, unless
And asethº be made therefore, compensation
A C yer thus shal I do;
152 4. Tales and Legends

Gef me my trouthe;º y were ago; pledge,

For til than my soule is lore.’º lost

‘Nay, fader, that shal not be,

In better plite y wol yow se,
Yf God wol gef me grace;
But ye shal me your trouthe plighte,
This same day fourtenyht
Ye shal appere in this place.

And y shal labore yf y may

To bring your soule in better way,
Yf y have lyf and space.’
He graunted hym in gret hast;
With that ther cam a donder blast
And both ther way gan passe.
[The son goes back to Bristol and borrows money from his master; he arranges
for those who have suffered because of his father to be recompensed. But once
again … stanzas 57–64]
By that the fourtenyht was come,
His gold was gone, al and some;
Then had he no more.
Into the chamber he went that tide,
The same that his fader in dyde,º died
And knelid, as he dud ore.º did previously

And as he sate in his prayere,

The spiret before hym gan appere
Right as he dud before,
Save the cheyn away was caught;
Blak he was, but he brent noght,
But yet he was in care.º sorrow

‘Welome, fader,’ seid the childe,

‘I pray yow with wordes mylde,
Tel me of your astate.’
 D. More ‘free-standing’ Literary Examples  153

‘Sone,’ he seid, ‘the better for the,

Yblessid moteº the tyme be may
That ever I the begate!

Thou hast relevyd me of moche wo —

My bitter chayne is fal me fro
And the fire so hote —
But yet dwel y stille in peyn,
And ever must, in certayn,
Tyl y have fulfilled my day.’

‘Fader,’ he seid, ‘y charge yow tel me

What is moste ayensº the. against
And doth yow most disese.’
‘Tethyngesº and offrynges, sone,’ he sayd, tithes
‘For y them never truly payd,
Wherfor my peynes may not cesse,

But it be restored agayn

To as many churches, in certayne,
And also mykel encresse.
Alle that for me thu dos pray
Helpeth me not to the uttermost day
The valure of a pese.º value of a pea

Therfor, sone, I pray the

Gef me my troutheº y left with the, pledge
And let me wyndeº my way,’ wend
‘Nay, fader,’ he seid, ‘ye gete it noght,
Another craftº ther shal be soght, device
Yet efte y wille assay.º try

But your trouthe ye shal me plight.

This same day a fourtenyht
Ye shal come ageyn to your day;
Ye shal appere here in this place,
154 4. Tales and Legends

And I shal loke, with Goddes grace,

To amend yow yf y may.’
[The spirit leaves, and the son returns to Bristol to ask his master yet again for
‘a litel summe of gold’ … stanza 67]
His maister seid, ‘Thu art a fole —
Thu hast bene at som bad scole;
By my feith, y holde the mad,
For thu hast played atte dice,
Or at som other games nyce’º … foolish
[But the son says that he will sell him his own body ‘for ever to be thy lad’,
and the master, who loves him, gives him more than he has asked for. He is
allowed a further fortnight’s leave … stanzas 72–83]
He sought alle the churches in that contreº region
Where his fader had dwelled by,
He left not one behynde.

He made asethº with hem echon. compensation

By that tyme his gold was gone,
They couthe aske hym no mare;
Save as he went by the street,
With a pore man gan he mete,
Almost naked and bare.

‘Your fader oweth me for a semeº of corn.’ load

Down he knelid hym beforn;
‘And y hym drad full sare.
For your fader soules sake,
Som amendes to me ye make,
For Hym that Marie bare.’

‘Welawey!’ seid the yong man,

‘For my gold and silver is gan;
I have not for to pay.’
Off his clothes he gan take,
And putt hem on the pore manis bake,
Chargyng for hys fader to pray.
 D. More ‘free-standing’ Literary Examples  155

Hosen and shon he gave hym tho,

In sherte and breche he gan go;
He had no clothes gay.
Into the chamber he wente that tideº time
The same that his fader on dyde,º died in
And knelid half a day.

When he had knelid and prayed long,

Hym thought he herd the myriest song,
That any erthely man might here;
After the song he sawe a light,
As thowº a thousand torches bright, though
It shone so faire and clere.

In that light, so faire lemandº shining

A naked child in angel hand
Before hym did appere,
And seid, ‘Sone, blessed thu be,
And al that ever shale come of the,
That ever thu goten were.’

‘Fader,’ he seid, ‘ful wel is me.

In that plite that y now se,
Y hope, that ye be save,’
‘Sone,’ he seid, ‘y go to blisse,
God almyghti quyte the this,
Thi good ageyn to have.

Thu hast made the ful bare

To aqueynche me of mykel care;
My trouthe, good sone, y crave.’
‘Have your trouthe,’ he seid, ‘fre,
And of thi blessing y pray the,
Yf that ye wold fochesaveº grant
156 4. Tales and Legends

In that blessyng mote thu woneº dwell

That Oure Lady gaf here sone,
And myn on the y lay.’37
Now that soule is gone to blisse
With moche joye and angelis,
More than y can say.

This child thanked God almyght

And his moder Marye bryght,
Whan he seyº that aray. saw
Even to Bristow gan he gon
In his sherte and breche alon;
Had he no clothes gay.

When the burges the child gan se,

He seid then, ‘Benedicite!
Sone, what araye is this?’
‘Truly, maister,’ seid the childe,
‘Y am come me to yeldeº surrender myself
As your bonde man.’
[His master hears the full story, and is impressed: ‘but fewe sones bene of tho
That wole serve here [their] fader so.’ He makes the son his ‘felow’ and heir,
and has him married to a worthy man’s daughter. When his master dies, he
inherits all his goods … stanza 93]
Thus hath this yong man keveredº recovered
First was riche and sitthenº bare, then
And sitthen richer then ever he was ….

37 It is thought that ‘with God’s blessing and mine’ is a typical formula used for, or
with refererence to, a child. Agnes Paston uses it in a letter to her son.
 E. Religious Tales and Saints’ Legends  157

E. Religious Tales and Saints’ Legends38

xvii) Mary of Nemmegen39

Mary meets the Devil: Mary has been angrily refused lodging for the
night by her aunt, and is in despair …

… She departed fro hyr with a hevy harte out of the towne of Nemmegen
in the evening, and at the laste she went so longe tyll she cam to a thycke
hegge, where that she satt hyr downe, wepynge and gyvynge hyrselfe
unto the dyvell, and sayd, ‘Woo be to the, my aunte! This may I thanke
the, for nowe care I nat whether that I kyll myself, or whether that I goo
to drowne me, and I care nat whether the dyvell or God come to me and
helpe me — I care nat whether of them two it be!’

The dyvell, that is at all tymes reddy for to hauke after dampned sowles,
heryng these words of Marye, turned hym into the lekenes of a man,
but he had but one yee [eye], for the dyvell can never turne hym in the
lykenes of a man, but [unless] he hathe some faute. And than sayd he to
his selfe, ‘Nowe wyll I goo suger my words for to speke unto this mayde
that I desplease hyr nat, for men must speke sweetly to women.’ And with
these words sayde he to Mary, ‘O fayer mayde, why syt you here thus
wepyng? Hathe there any man that hathe dyspleased you or done you
wronge? If that I knewe hym, I shulde be awrokyn [avenged] on hym!’
Than Mary, herynge his voyce, loked besyde hyr and sawe a man stande
by hyr, wherof she was afrayde, and sayde, ‘Helpe, God, I am wayted
[spied upon]!’ The devell sayd unto Mary, ‘Fayer mayde, be nat afrayde,
for I wyll nat do unto you no maner of harme, but doo you good. For your
fayernes men muste love you, and if that ye wyll consent unto me, I shall
make you a woman above all other women, for I have more love unto
you than I have to any other woman nowe lyvyng.’ Than sayde Mary, ‘I
syt here halfe mad and in dyspayer. I care nat whether that I gyve myself
to God or to the dyvyll so that I were out of this thraldome and mysarye,
but I pray you showe unto me who that ye be.’ The dyvyll answered to
hyr, ‘I am a master of many scyances, for that [whatever] I take on me to

38 The latter are often found in abbreviated form in sermons or adapted as exempla.
Gray left an extra sub-heading here, for more Saints’ Lives which he never inserted;
it has been necessary to collapse the sections.
39 Mary of Nemmegen, ed. Raftery, pp. 26–8.
158 4. Tales and Legends

do I brynge it unto a ende, and if that ye wyll be my paramoure, I shall

tech to you all the forsayde scyances, so that there is the worlde shall
passe you.’ Than sayd Mary to the dyvyll, ‘I praye you, showe unto me
what ye be, and what your name is.’ Than sayd the dyvell, ‘What recketh
[care] you what I be? I am nat the beste of my kynne. And [if] ye wyll nat
be displeased, my name is Satan with the one yee, that is well knowen
amonges good fellowes.’ Than sayd Mary, ‘Nowe perseyve I well that
ye be the dyvell.’ ‘That is al one [all the same] who I be, for I bere unto
you good love.’ Than sayd Mary, ‘I wold nat be afrayd of hym if that it
were Lusyfer hymselfe!’ Than sayde the dyvell to Marye, ‘Fare mayde,
wyll ye be my love? I shall teche unto you al the scyances aforesayde,
and I shall gyve unto you manye other costely jewelles and also money at
youre pleasure, so that ye shall lacke nothynge at all and you shall have
all your owne pleasure to do that thynge that ye wyll desire, so that there
is noo woman shall have the pleasure that ye shall have.’ Than sayde
Marye to the dyvyll, ‘Or that [before] ye lye with me, ye shall teche to
me the forsayde scyances.’ Than sayde the dyvyll, ‘I am contente — aske
what that ye wyll, and ye shall have it.’ Than sayde Mary, ‘I wyll have
nygromancy [necromancy] for one, for I have a unkyll that hathe a boke
therof, and when that he lyste, he wyll bynde the fynde [fiend] therwith.’
Than sayd the dyvell, ‘O fayer mayde, what ye desire ye shal have, but
I occupy [employ] nat that science myself, for it is so daungerouse, for
when that ye begyn for to counger [conjure] and if ye mysse one letter
in redynge, the geste [spirit] that ye call for wyll breke your necke, and
therefore I counsayll you nat to lerne that science.’ Than sayd Mary, ‘If
that it be so, that science wyll I nat lerne.’ Than was the dyvyll glad, and
sayde to his selfe, ‘Now have I turned hyr mynde fro that science, for if
that she culde nygromancy, then when she were angery with me, then
wolde she bynde me therwith …’.

He also dislikes her name, because he and his fellows have suffered
from a Mary in the past. He persuades her to be called Emmekyn. She
becomes his paramour. They travel around together, and eventually
return to Nemmegen. There Mary is converted by a play about sinful
living. The devil tries to kill her, but she survives. The pope imposes
on her the penance of wearing three iron rings. She enters a nunnery,
and when she dies an angel frees her from the rings as a sign of God’s
forgiveness.
 E. Religious Tales and Saints’ Legends  159

xviii) Saint George and the Dragon40

As the saint rides by, he sees a damsel standing and mourning …

… And when he saw the aray of thys damesell, hym thought well that
hyt schuld be a woman of gret renon, and askyd hur why scho stode
ther with soo mornyng a chere. Than answered scho and sayde, ‘Gentyll
knyght, well may I be of hevy chere, that am a kyngys doghtyr of thys
cyte, and am sette here for to be devoured anon of a horrybull dragon
that hath eton all the chyldyr of thys cyte. And for all ben eton, now
most I be eten; for my fader yaf the cyte that consell. Wherfor, gentyll
knyght, gos [go] hens fast and save thyselfe, lest he les [destroy] the as
he wol me!’ ‘Damesell,’ quod George, ‘that wer a gret vyleny to me, that
am a knyght well i-armed, yf I schuld fle, and thou that art a woman
schuld abyde.’ Than wyth thys worde, the horrybull best put up his hed,
spyttyng out fure, and proferet batayll to George. Then made George a
cros befor hym, and set hys spere in the grate [rest], and wyth such
might bare down the dragon into the erth, that he bade this damysell
bynd hur gurdull aboute his necke and led hym aftyr hur into the cyte.
Then this dragon sewet [followed] her forth, as hyt had ben a gentyll
hownde, mekly without any mysdoyng.

xix) Saint Julian41

We rede how that when saynt Julyan was a yong man and went on
huntyng, he pursewid on a tyme after a harte. And this harte turnyd
agayn and spak unto hym and sayd, ‘Thow that mon [is destined to] sla
bothe thi fadir and thi moder, wharto pursewis thou me?’ And he had
grete wonder herof, and becauce [so that] this sulde not happyn hym,
he went away oute of a fer contreth and servid a wurthi prince; and he
made hym a knyght and gaff hym a warde, a grete gentylwomman, unto
his wife. And his fadur and his moder at home, hafyng grete sorrow that
he was gone oute of the contrey fro thaim, went and soght hym many
mylis. So on a tyme when he was furthe [away], be a sodan cace [sudden
chance] thaim happynd to com unto his castell. And be wurdis at [that]

40 John Mirk’s Festial, vol. 1 item 30 in the EETS edition (the episode appears on p. 118);
Gray also included it in Simple Forms p. 142 (within Saints’ Legends, pp. 139–43).
41 See Gilte Legende, EETS OS 327 (vol. 1, pp. 143–4), in which this Julian is one of several
Julians. Gray’s version is close, but not exactly as printed in the EETS edition.
160 4. Tales and Legends

thai said ther his wyfe understude at thai was fadir and moder unto hur
husband, be all the proces at sho had hard [heard] hur husband say. And
when sho had made thaim wele to fare, sho laid thaim samen [together]
in hur awn bedd. And this Julian come home sodanlie in the mornyng
and wente unto his chamber, and fand thaim ii samen in the bed. And
he, trowyng that it had bene one that had done avowtry [adultery] with
his wyfe, he slew thaim bothe and went his ways. And he mett his wife
fro the kurkward [coming from the church], and sho tolde hym how his
fadir and his moder was commen, and how sho had layd thaim in hur
awn bedd. And than he began to wepe and make sorow, and said, ‘Lo!
that at the harte said unto me, now I, a sory wriche, hafe fulfillid itt.’
And than he went oute of contre and did penans, and his wyfe wolde
never forsake hym. And ther thai come unto a grete water, ther many
war perisschid, and ther he byggid a grete hostre, and all that ever come
he herbard [lodged] thaim, and had thaim over this watyr. And this
he usyd a lang tyme. So on a nyght aboute mydnyght, as he layin his
bed and it was a grete froste, he hard a voyce cry petifullie, and sayd,
‘Julian! Com and feche me owr, I pray the!’ And he rase onone [at once]
and went our the water, and ther he fand a man that was nerehand
frosyn to dead, and he had hym our, and broght hym into his howse
and refresshid hym, and laid hym in his awn bed and happid [covered]
hym. And within a little while he that was in the bed, that semyd seke
and like a leppre, ascendid unto hevyn and sayd on this maner of wyse,
‘Julyan! Almighti God hase reseyvid thi penans. And within a little
while ye bothe shall com unto Hym.’ And with that he vanysshid away.

xx) A Saintly Fool42

… Som tyme ther was in a monasterie of nonnys a maydyn, and for

Goddis luff sho made hur selfe evyn as a fule, and meke and buxhom
[obedient] to everilk bodis commandment; and sho made hur selfe
so vile, and so grete ane underlowte [underling], that ilkone uggid
[everyone felt apprehensive] with hur, bod [but] ilkone strak hur and
skornyd hur, and evur sho tuke it in plesans. So sho passed never the
kichyn, bod bade ther, and wasshid dysshis and skowrid pottys, and
did all maner of fowle labur. And sho satt never at meat, bod held hur

42 In the Alphabet of Tales, number CCCXXII, Fatuitas.

 E. Religious Tales and Saints’ Legends  161

selfe content with crombys and crustis that war lefte at the burd [table];
and therwith sho liffid, and sho war [wore] nevur shone nor hose, and
sho had nothing on hur head bod revyn [torn] clothis, and raggid. And
sho was servyciable to everilk creatur, and wold do no bodye wrong,
and what at evur was done unto hur, ther was none at hard hur gruche
therwith. So emang all thies, be the commawndement of ane aungell,
saynt Patryk, at was a holie man and liffid in wildrenes, come unto this
same monasterie, and callid befor hym all the nonnys and all the susters
of the place, at he might se thaim, and sho come not. And than he said,
‘Ye er not all here.’ And thai said, ‘Yis, fadur, we er all here, outtakyn one
that is bod a fule.’ And he bad thaim call hur; and als sone as he saw hur
he knew in his spiritt that sho was mor halie than he. And he fell down
on his kneis befor hur an said, ‘Spirituall moder, giff me thi blissyng!’
And sho fell down on kneis before hym and said, ‘Nay, fathur, rather
thou sulde blis me.’ And with that the susters of the howse had grete
wonder, and said unto hym, ‘Fathir, suffer not this enjorie, for sho is
bod a fulle.’ And he said, ‘Nay, sho is wise, and ye er bod fules, for sho
is bettyr than owder ye or I.’ And than all the susters fell on ther kneis
befor hur, and askyd hur forgifnes of wrangis and injuries that thai had
done unto hur [and] scho forgiffes thaim ilkone with all hur harte.

xxi) The Virgin Mary saves a Thief on the Gallows43

We rede in hur ‘Meracles’ how som tyme ther was a thefe, and he had a
grete devocion unto our Ladie, and said hur salutacion oft unto hur. So
at the laste he was takyn with thift and hanged, and our Ladie come and
held hym up iii dayes, hur awn handis, so that he felid no sare. So thai
that hanged hym happened be cace [chance] to com by hym away, and
fand hym mery and liffand [living]. And thai trowed he had not bene
wele hanged. And thai wer avysid [thought] to have stykkid hym with
a swerd as he hang. And as thai wold hafe stryken hym, our Lady putt
it away with hur hand, so at thai noyed [harmed] hym noght. And he
told thaim how our Ladie helpid hym, and thai tuke hym down and lete
[released] him. And he went unto ane abbay, and ther servid our Ladie
ewhils [whilst] he liffid.

43 In Alphabet of Tales, number CCCCLXIV, Maria deuotos sibi a morte liberat. In From the
Norman Conquest (pp. 229–31) Gray gives Adgar’s version of the tale, in which the
thief’s name is Ebbo.