(from an old French medieval tale)
Between Normandy and Brittany, next to the sea, in times of old there used to be a castle so strong and so well defended that it feared no king, prince or duke of any sort.
The lord that possessed it was of great stature, beautiful bearing, rich and high lineage. Seeing him, one might think he had a good and gracious nature. However, he was vain, proud and cruel, disloyal and fearing neither God nor men. He had spread terror throughout the country, robbing travelers along the roads, promoting unjust wars, destroying markets, killing pilgrims. He observed no fasting or abstinence, attended no Mass and listened to no sermons. No worse man has ever existed. In his life he committed all the evil that can be done by thought, word and deed.
And so he lived for thirty years, without any repentance at all.
On a Good Friday, having awakened in a good mood, and shouted at his cooks: — “Prepare the game I hunted yesterday, for today I want to have lunch early.”
Upon hearing this, his vassals exclaimed: — “My Lord, today is Good Friday, everyone is fasting, and thou wishest to eat meat! Believe what we say: God will finally punish thee!”
—“By the time that happens I shall have assulted and hung many people!”
—“Art thou so certain that God will continue to tolerate this much longer? Thou shouldst hastily repent, beg for pardon, and weep for thy sins. A man of great sanctity, a priest-hermit, abides in a grove nearby. Let us go to confession.”
—“I? I go to confession?” Uttering an oath, he proclaimed, “I wouldst go there only if he should have something that I could steal.”
—His vassals, remaining patient, responded, “Come at least to keep us company, we bid you.”
—Smiling ironically, their lord answered: “For you, I acquiesce to go. But for God, I will do nothing.”
And so, they took to the road.
They were walking through the mountains as the morning mist was settling like white silk, speaking of goodness.
The knights move forward, crying and hitting their chests, asking God forgiveness for their sins. Cutting across the grove, where the morning penetrated, the cortege was followed by the sinner, his heart as hard as rock. He would sing and burst into laughter, mocking the tears of his fellow travelers.
The fields with golden vegetation announced that the holy man’s convent was drawing near.
* * *
Arriving at the convent from the solitary and still forest, the knights prepared to enter the abode of the virtuous monk. However, their proud lord waited outside, mounted on his horse.
The knights, entered the chapel and went to confession to the hermit as sincerely and as briefly as they could. He gave them absolution on condition that they abandon their bad life. They promised to do so and then told him:
—“Father, our master, who is outside, is not in a good state of soul. Please call to him and convince him to go to confession.”
Supported on his staff, the hermit went out to meet the knight. Addressing him with calm dignity, he said:
—“Welcome, Sir. Being a knight, thou must surely be courteous. Accept my invitation then — descend from thy horse and come in to speak with me.”
A churlish oath rising to his lips, the knight answered impatiently:
—“Speak with thee? What for? Speak about what? We have nothing in common. I am in haste and desire to take my leave.”
—Undismayed, the hermit continued: “For the sake of the order of chivalry, please come in to see my chapel and my abode.”
Deterred by the persistence of the hermit and especially by the strength of his being, the knight grumbled gruffly to himself:
—“What a misery I fell into when first I decided to come hither this morning.”
And so he relented, very ill-at-ease. Hoping that he would somehow succeed in soon ridding himself of the hermit, the knight gingerly dismounted from his horse.
The hermit then took him by the arm and led him into the chapel. Once they were before the altar, the man of God said to him:
—“Sir, consider thyself to be my prisoner. Kill me if thou wishest, but thou shalt not escape from hence before having told me all thy sins.”
The knight was beside himself. He looked at the hermit so furiously that the latter was stricken with fear. After a terrifying pause, the knight exclaimed angrily:
—“I will tell thee nothing. In fact, I know not what prevents me from slaying thee here and now!”
The holy hermit risked his life once again:
—“Brother, tell me just one sin, and God will help thee to confess the others.”
Expressing his exasperation with an oath, the knight said:
—“Willst thou never leave me alone? If this is so, I will confess. But I shall repent of nothing — absolutely nothing!”
And with great arrogance, in one fell swoop, he told all of the sins of his turbulent life.
Heart-broken at such a callous lack of repentance, the hermit began to weep. And once again, he tried: —“Sir, give me at least the consolation of allowing me to subject you to a penance.”
—“Penance? Art thou making a mockery of me? What penance wouldst thou give me?”
—“In atonement for thy sins, thou shalt fast ever Friday for three consecutive years.”
—“Three years! Hast thou taken leave of thy senses? Never!”
—“One month, then. . .”
—“No!”
—“Thou shalt go to church and recite a Pater Noster and an Ave.”
—“For me that would be very boring and, moreover, a waste of time.”
—“For the sake of Almighty God, do at least one thing. Take this little barrel to the brook nearby, fill it with water, and bring it back to me!”
—“Well since this is not so difficult, and since I will become rid of thee thereby, I consent. Upon my word I shall not rest until I have returned this barrel to thee full of water. . .”
With great strides, the knight went to the spring and sunk the barrel into the water, but not a single drop entered it. He tried again, in one way, in another, but the barrel remained empty.
—“By God!” he exclaimed. “What does this mean?!” Again he plunged the barrel it into the water…without success. Puzzled and grinding his teeth with rage, he leaped forward, running swiftly to the hermitage where, upon encountering the hermit, he exclaimed:
—“By all the saints in Heaven, thou hast placed me in a great predicament with this cursed barrel! I am unable to put a single drop of water in it!”
The hermit listened to him and then lamented:
—“Sir, what a sad state is thine! A child would have brought this barrel back to me overflowing with water. And thou … thou has not managed to put a single drop in it! This is a sign from God to thee, because of thy sins.”
In an outburst of anger and pride, the knight replied:
—“I swear to thee that I will not wash my head, nor shave, nor cut my fingernails as long as I have not fulfilled my word. Even if I have to go all around the world, I will fill this barrel to the brim!”
* * *
Thus the knight departed, with the little barrel hanging around his neck, taking with him only the clothes he was wearing and having no other escort but God. In every stream that he encountered, he tried to fill the little barrel, but it was always in vain.
Whether it was hot or cold, he continued his quest over mountains and valleys and through bushes and thorns that cut his flesh and made his blood flow.
His days were painful, his nights even worse. Pressed by hunger, he was obliged to beg for food. And at times he fasted for two or three days in a row without being able to obtain even a loaf of stale bread to appease his hunger.
Seeing his so tall, so strong, so rugged, and so tanned by the sun, people became very wary and feared to receive him. Many times he found no lodging for the night and had to sleep in the open air.
He had to bear mockery and insults, but he carried on. No one was able to diminish his pride or to soften even slightly his miserable heart. He journeyed through France and Italy, Spain and Germany, Hungary and England. There was no Country that he failed to visit, no waters in which he failed to try to fill the little barrel — but always with no results.
He walked so long and so hard that slowly he began to waste away. No one could recognize him now: disheveled hair, a skeleton-like body, eyes sunk in their sockets, and veins that stood out from his skin. He was so weakened that he needed a staff to support the weight of his body. The little barrel had become enormously heavy for him now, but he always carried it tied about his neck.
After a year of failures, he decided to return to the hermitage. It was an arduous trip, but at last he arrived, exactly on Good Friday.
The hermit did not recognize him. But upon noticing the little barre, he asked:
—“What has brought thee here, dear brother? Who gave thee this little barrel? It has now been a year since I gave it to a fair knight. I don’t know whether he is alive or dead, for he did not return to me.”
To this the other answered, full of rage:
—“I am that knight, and this is the state to which thou hast reduced me!”
And he told the hermit about his misadventures, still not showing any sign of repentance.
The man of God heard everything and became indignant at such hardness of heart:
—“Thou are the worst of men! A hound, a wolf, or any other animal would have filled this barrel. Ah! Well do I see that God has not accepted thy penance, for thou hast done it without repentance!”
And he began to weep, seeing the lamentable state of that hardened soul:
—“My God, contemplate this creature that Thou hast made, and that so madly plays with the salvation of his soul. Ah! Holy Mary, beseech mercy for this man. Sweet Jesus, shouldst Thou have to choose between us, unleash thy wrath against me, but save this creature!”
Perplexed, the knight watched the weeping and praying of the hermit. And he thought:
—“This man has no link with me but God, yet he suffers and weeps at the sight of my sins. Indeed I must be the worst of men, the greatest of sinners, for he is desolate and ready to sacrifice himself on my account. Ah! Give me, God, a great repentance, so that this holy man may have, at least, the consolation of my contrition. I ask Thee pardon, O King of mercy, for all that of which I am guilty!”
And God his His Work in that soul. The knight’s repentance was so deep that even his hardened heart was moved. His eyes became wet, and a large teardrop rolled down his face, falling right into the little barrel that was still tied round his neck. This one tear was enough to fill the barrel to the brink! This was the sign that God had forgiven him his sins.
The hermit and knight hugged each other, shedding tears of joy.
—“Father, I want to go to confession again, but this time with repentance for all my sins.”
Thus he confessed, with great contrition and great weeping.
After giving him absolution, the hermit asked the knight if he wanted to receive Communion.
—“Yes, Father. But hurry, for I feel that I am going to die.”
After Communion, the knight was completely purified and clean. No stain of sin remained in his soul.
—“My Father, thou hast done me all kinds of good. In return, my whole being is thine, I am in thy hands. The end approaches, pray for me.”
As the hermit took the knight in his arms, he breathed his last. In that moment, the chapel became filled with light, and the angels descended and carried that soul to Heaven in a magnificent cortege.
The hermit, thanks to his virtues, was able to see all of these marvels. Soon afterward, before the altar, there remained only the body of the knight covered with rags. . . and the little barrel.
Short Stories on Honor, Chivalry, and the World of Nobility—no. 167
This summary is based on the books Beauté du Moyen Age, by Regine Pernoud (Gautier-Languereau, 1971) and Poetes et Prosateurs de Moyen Age, by Gaston Paris (Hachette, 1921).
