A French Medieval Tale

etween Normandy and Brittany, in a faraway place and time, there
lived a lord of awesome renown. He possessed a castle near the sea that
was so strong, so fortified, and so well defended that he feared no king
or prince, duke or count. He was rich, and of great stature and
handsome bearing. Despite his distinguished noble lineage, however, he
was vain, cruel, treacherous, and proud, fearing neither God nor man. He
spread terror about the land, ambushing and killing pilgrims and
merchants on the roads and byways. He observed no fasting or

abstinence, attended no Mass,
and heard no sermons. No one had ever known another person as wicked as he.
One Good Friday, having awakened in a jovial mood, he summoned his
cooks, shouting, “Prepare the game I hunted yesterday, for today I want
my dinner early.”
Upon hearing this, one of his knights exclaimed:
“My Lord, today is Good Friday, everyone is fasting and abstaining, and
lo, thou wishest to eat meat! Believe what we say: God will eventually
punish thee!”
“By the time that happens, I shall have assaulted and hanged many people!” replied the lord scornfully.
“Art thou so certain that God will continue tolerating this much
longer?” inquired the knight. “Thou shouldst hastily repent, beg for
pardon, and weep for thy sins. A man of great sanctity, a hermit-priest,
dwells deep in the neighboring woods. Let us go there for confession.”
The
lord reacted sharply: “I? I go to confession?” Then swearing, he
remarked, “I would go there only if he had something I could despoil him
of.”
His vassal responded patiently, saying: “Accompany us, at least.”
Smiling
ironically, the lord protested: “I acquiesce for your sakes. But I will
do nothing for God.” And so they took to the road.
The Hermit
Arriving at the hermit’s retreat, in the heart of the quiet and
solitary forest, the knights entered the abode of the holy man. But
their lord remained outside on his horse.
After confessing their sins
as sincerely and diligently as they could, the knights pleaded with the
hermit: “Father, our lord, who remained outside, is not in a good state
of soul. Please entreat him to come in for confession.”

Leaning
on his staff, the hermit went out to meet the lord. Addressing him with
calm dignity, he said: “Welcome, Sir. Being a knight, thou must surely
be courteous. Accept my invitation, then. Dismount, and let us go inside
to speak.”
With a churlish oath rising to his lips, the lord answered
impatiently: “Speak with thee? What for? Speak about what? We have
nothing in common! Besides, I am in haste and wish to take my leave.”
Undismayed, the hermit insisted: “For the sake of the order of chivalry, please come in to visit my chapel and my abode.”
Overcome by the hermit’s insistence and especially by the
forcefulness of his personality, the lord grumbled to himself: “What a
misery I fell into agreeing to come hither this morning!” Very much
against his pleasure, he conceded. Hoping he would somehow succeed in
quickly ridding himself of this bothersome hermit, the lord dismounted.
The hermit took him by the arm and led him into the chapel. When they
were before the altar, the man of God said to him: “Sir, consider
thyself my prisoner. Kill me if thou wishest, but I shall not freely let
thee go from hence before thou hast told me all thy sins.”
The lord, almost beside himself, glared at the hermit with incredible
fury. After a few alarming moments of suspense, the lord exclaimed: “I
will tell thee nothing! Moreover, I do not see why I should not slay
thee right here and now!”
The holy hermit risked his life once again. “Brother, tell me, then,
just one sin, and God will help thee confess the others.” Swearing anew
in exasperation, the lord barked, “Wilt thou not leave me alone? All
right, I will confess. But I shall repent of nothing, absolutely
nothing!”
With mighty arrogance, he told all the sins of his stormy life at one fell swoop.
The Penance
Heartbroken at the sight of such callous impenitence, the hermit
began to weep. Then he ventured another request. “Sir, give me at least
the consolation of allowing me to subject thee to a penance.”
“Penance? Art thou trying to make a fool of me? What penance wouldst thou give me?”
“In atonement for thy sins, offer God a fast on every Friday for the next three years,” the monk stated.
“Fast? For three years?” protested the lord. “Hast thou taken leave of thy senses? Never!”
“One month, then,” the holy man said indulgently.
“No!”
“Then, for the love of God, go to a church and recite a Pater Noster and an Ave.”
“I would find that very boring,” scoffed the lord, “and a waste of time as well.”

“For
Almighty God’s sake, do at least one kind deed. Take this little barrel
to the nearby brook, fill it with water, and return it to me!”
“Hah!
If I can so easily rid myself of thee, I consent. Give me the barrel.
On my word, I shall fill it to the brim and quickly bring it back, and
then I can be on my way at last.”
With great strides, the lord hastened down to the stream and dipped
the barrel in the clear water – but not a single drop went in. Puzzled,
he tried again, first one way, and then another, but the barrel remained
completely empty. “What!” he exclaimed. “What is this supposed to
mean?”
Again he dunked the barrel in the water, but to no avail.
Baffled and gritting his teeth in anger, he sprang to his feet and ran
swiftly back to the anchorite’s dwelling. Upon finding him, he
exclaimed: “By all the saints in Heaven, thou hast placed me in a great
predicament with this accursed 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
thine is! A child could have brought this barrel back to me brimful with
water. But thou, thou hast not been able to fetch a single drop! This
is surely a sign from God to thee on account of thy sins.” In an
outburst of anger and pride, the lord retorted, “I swear to thee that I
will not wash my head, or shave, or trim my fingernails until I have
filled this barrel and fulfilled my word. Even if I have to go around
the whole world, I will yet fill this barrel to the brim!”
With the little barrel hanging from his neck, the lord departed,
taking with him only the garments he wore and having no escort – except
for God and his guardian angel.
At every brook, river, and lake he encountered, he attempted to fill
the barrel, but always in vain. In hot and cold weather alike, through
wet and dry, he journeyed on, across mountains and valleys, through
forests and fields, tearing and bloodying his skin on brambles and
stones. His days were painful; his nights worse yet. Famished, he was
reduced to begging for food. At times he unwillingly fasted for two or
three days on end, not being able to obtain even a piece of stale bread
to appease his hunger.
Seeing this man, so tall and vigorous, but so unkempt and bronzed by
the sun, people were wary and fearful of receiving him. So, many a night
he found no lodging and had to sleep exposed to the elements. In
addition, he faced mockery and insults, but he stubbornly went on.
Nothing and no one was able to curb his pride or to soften even slightly
his cruel heart.
He journeyed through England and France, Spain and
Italy, Germany and Hungary. There is scarcely a country he did not cross
and virtually no waters he did not try in his efforts to fill the
little barrel. But all was in vain.
Such long, arduous, and fruitless journeying gradually took its toll.
He wasted away and became almost unrecognizable, with his hair
disheveled, his skin clinging to his bones, his eyes sunken, and his
veins protruding. So weakened, he needed a staff to steady himself. The
empty little barrel had become an enormous burden for him, yet he
continued to carry it tied about his neck.
Another Good Friday
After nearly a year of these fruitless efforts, he decided, in both
anger and frustration, to return to the hermit’s abode. It was an
exhausting journey, but at last he arrived, exactly on Good Friday!

The
holy hermit failed to recognize the man who came to his door, but upon
seeing the little barrel, he asked: “What has brought thee here, dear
brother? And who has given thee this barrel? It has been a year now
since I gave it to a fair lord. I know not whether he is alive or dead,
for he has not returned.”
Enraged, the stranger replied: “I am that lord, and this is the state
to which thou hast reduced me!” Then he told the hermit all his
misadventures, still without showing any sign of repentance!
The man of God listened attentively and grew indignant at such
hardness of heart. “Thou art the worst of men! A dog, 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 contrition.”
Seeing the lamentable state of that hardened soul, he began to weep.
“O God, look upon this creature Thou hast made and that so madly gambles
with the salvation of his soul. Ah! Holy Mary, obtain mercy for this
man. Sweet Jesus, shouldst Thou have to choose between the two of us,
unleash Thy wrath upon me, but save this creature.”
Mystified, the lord stared at the weeping and praying hermit, and he
thought: “There is nothing linking me to this man but God. Yet he
suffers and weeps at the sight of my sins. Indeed I must be the worst of
men and the greatest of sinners, for he is desolate and ready to
sacrifice himself on my account. Ah! Make me repentant, O God, so that
this holy man may have at least the consolation of my contrition. O King
of Mercy, I beg Thee, forgive me for everything of which I am guilty!”
Thus did God do His work in that soul. The lord’s hardened heart was
finally moved, and his contrition was so deep that his eyes began to
well up with tears. A large teardrop spilled from his eye, ran down his
face, and fell right into the little barrel that still hung about his
neck. Lo, that single tear was enough to fill the barrel to its very
brim! It was a sign that God had forgiven him his sins.
At that, the hermit and the lord embraced, shedding tears of
joy.“Father, if you permit, I want to confess again,” said the lord with
unaccustomed but sincere meekness, “but this time with contrition for
my many sins.” And so, falling to his knees, he confessed, deeply
repentant and weeping abundantly.
After absolving the lord, the hermit asked him if he wished to
receive Communion. “Yes, Father. But hurry, please, for I feel that I am
about to die.”

Having
received Holy Communion, the lord was completely purified and clean, no
stain of sin remaining in his soul. “Father, thou hast done me all
manner of good. In return, my whole being is thine. I am in thy hands.
The end approaches. Pray for me.” Then the lord sank into the hermit’s
arms and breathed his last. At that moment, the chapel filled with
light, and angels descended to lead that soul to Heaven in a magnificent
cortege, wonders the hermit could see on account of his exalted virtue.
Following this, there remained before the altar only the body of the
lord, clothed in rags and with his little barrel hanging from his neck.
This account is based on the books
Beauté du Moyen Age by Regine Pernoud (Gautier-Languereau, 1971), and
Poetes et Prosateurs du Moyen Age by Gaston Paris (Hachette, 1921).The
Little Barrel - Illustrated by Helene A. Catherwood & A. Phillips