A TALE OF ONE-OX (Part Two)

A Tale of One-Ox (Part Two)
Word of Mouth

Translation by Sandra Dermark

 0. INTRODUCTION

A Tale of One-Ox, or Verses of One-Ox (Versus de Unibove), recorded and performed for rulers in the Middle Ages, but also well-known amongst the peasantry, was first told and recorded in Latin and in verse. It is a trickster tale where a weak and poor but clever underdog triumphs, time after time, over three wealthy and powerful but stupid top dogs (the Mayor, the Priest, and the Sheriff).

One-Ox is the oldest version of tale type 1535. In the Renaissance, Straparola (in his Facetious Nights, 1555) told the story but starring Father Shoe-Fig, a trickster priest (a poor priest, and thus seen as a sympathetic trickster, unlike the powerful antagonist in One-Ox). In the days of Romanticism, in the Golden Age of fairytale, Andersen (1835) retold the story as Little Klaus and Big Klaus, and the Grimms (1819) as The Little Farmer (Das Bürle). The name (or rather nickname) of One-Ox hints at his poverty, just like the trickster heroes of these two last stories (Little Klaus and the Little Farmer), since he has only got one single head of cattle (plus a single mare, a wife, and a single child). His tricks are very reminiscent of Carnivalesque tricksters like Don Carnal, Harlequin, Reynard the Fox, and especially Panurge.

The medieval version is given the frame of being told at a feast, "at the table of a great ruler," hinting that it was told at royal courts and castles of nobility: 

At the table of a great ruler,

the story of One-Ox

is presented as a fable

told by minstrels.

.....

"Feasts are made of dishes,

wordplay out of words.

In a show with characters

let us sing of One-Ox!"

This "show with characters" was most surely staged by the minstrels at a small theatre before the feasting table, either with actors or with puppets. There are numerous similarities to commedia dell'arte, with humble but witty trickster One-Ox as Harlequin, his wife as Columbine, and the three top dogs as the Elders or Vecchi (the Mayor as the Pantaloon, the Sheriff as the Capitano, and the Priest as Balanzone). The story could have been staged by commedia dell'arte troupes, and in the Gundam Wing fic Karma Commedia (by StrixAlluka) the commedia dell'arte troupe who star in the fic (set during the Thirty Years' War) stage One-Ox (starring Quatre Winner) at a victory feast.

ON CURRENCY, MEASURES, ETC. The source material uses the currency and measures used in most regions in the Middle Ages, which have become obsolete. My translation uses pounds and pence, and for example bushels (and other such Imperial measures) in order to give the story a more old-world, country-esque feel. The original "provincia" was translated as "county" to achieve the same effect.

PREVIOUSLY ON ONE-OX:

Leaving the triple funeral,

the three lunatics, sighing deeply,

whisper to each other:

"Let's kill One-Ox 

the sooner, the better!

Who took all our cattle

and then swindled us again,

when he said his magic flute

resurrected and rejuvenated women?

We should destroy the author

of all such shenanigans!

Let a cruel, violent death

fall upon his peasant head!"

III. THE MARE

Mentally unbalanced,

the trio rush forth

and gather their weapons

to kill the master trickster.

But One-Ox's shrewdness,

always full of new tricks,

once more overcomes

his three enemies' angry threat.

The once-poor One-Ox

grabs a handful of his silver,

and succeeds to trick the armed host.

He draws his mare from the stables,

lifts her tail quite high,

and shoves all the silver coins

into the mare's rectum.

He makes the horse stand

in the middle of his cottage,

and then spreads

a white linen over her back.

His three enemies,

standing outside, threatening him,

witness a miraculous event.

Standing on the threshold,

they want to kill One-Ox,

yet they're all frozen in place,

surprised by the new event.

They observe One-Ox

working over some silver;

as he rubs the mare's flanks,

he brings forth a great sum.

"What is this, One-Ox!?

Why is this beast clearly

producing so much silver for you,

and astounding the three of us?"

One-Ox replies cautiously:

"See all these silver coins?

This beast's intestines produce

silver in lieu of worthless dung.

Every night she pours out

such sums, such high amounts,

that Cybele, Queen of Money,

is surely enthroned upon her anus."

Once the trio have seen the money

and heard the story,

their anger instantly abates

and they say to One-Ox:

"Enjoy your good fortune

and sell us this precious beast!

If so, we will end our feud

once we've bought these swollen flanks!"

One-Ox, full of tricks,

replies to the trio of friends:

"It's not easy to give away

such a source of wealth for free.

There's a wonderful treasure

inside the belly of this beast;

surely, for bestowing such gifts,

she is not exactly cheap."

"If you wish to delight yourself

further in your great fortune,

dear One-Ox, no longer tarry

selling this mare to us!"

The crafty One-Ox replies

to the three nincompoops:

"I'll sell you three my noble beast,

but not at a small price.

You've seen what she has produced,

how much silver she has showered.

If you want coffers full of silver,

you have to pay the price!

Give me fifteen pounds sterling,

if you may be so kind.

In a short time, she will repay your debt

in cash instead of excrement."

After paying One-Ox

the fifteen pounds sterling,

the trio lead the mare

with a rope for a leash,

greedily guarding her.

The Priest speaks eagerly:

"You two must listen to me!

I want to be the first

to lead this beast into my stables!

Since I am the first in the parish church,

I shall have the mare first.

At dawn I'll collect the fifteen pounds

that I owe One-Ox.

I shall have her the first night,

you, Sheriff, the second,

and you, Mayor, the third,

according to the scales of equity."

"So mote it be," says the Sheriff.

"So mote it be," replies the Mayor.

"This is a gentlemen's agreement.

Let us be patient."

The Priest cares for the mare,

feeding her with barley.

His ears are cupped towards the horse

as he stays awake that night.

At the crack of dawn, the Priest

leads the mare out of the stables,

so she might deposit the fifteen pounds.

Thinking she is being led

to her familiar plough,

the mare lets out a foul horse-apple,

as she is wont, from beneath her tail.

When the Priest hears the faeces

splatter upon the ground,

he believes that silver is coming

from the beast's heavy belly.

The priest cries: "Servants,

leave at once, household servants!

Only I shall gather up

the money I have been given!"

When the Priest examines closely

the filthy pile of horse-apples,

he discovers a tiny silver coin,

half an inch, which he picks up.

Long ago, when that mare

was only a six-month-old filly,

she hurt her tender anus

on a sharp tree branch.

In that scar inside her rectum,

a tiny coin got stuck,

as she expelled the other coins

One-Ox had shoved inside.

The deep wound in her rectum

profits the prospector

as, bending down,

he picks up the barley-money.

What is not good

is not necessarily bad either.

The annoying wound in the rectum

becomes a joy for the Priest.

The Sheriff, meanwhile,

visits the Priest early that morning,

hoping to procure

the shitter of wealth in his turn.

"Give me this beast, Priest.

After this one single night,

you must have become forever filthy rich!"

The Priest replies lukewarmly:

"I'll give you this mare,

but you force me to give her to you

too early, this very morning.

Today, at the crack of dawn,

only undercooked coins,

and mostly barley,

came out of her belly."

Nevertheless, with much authority,

the Sheriff leads the mare away,

and he gets the same things the Priest got;

only barley and a tiny coin.

On the third night, the Mayor

stables the beast in his own stables,

and, at dawn, he likewise

gets a stinking pile of horse-apples.

The shared mare had eaten

a supper of barley for the third time,

and, likewise, she engendered only

foul-smelling dung during the night.

Meanwhile One-Ox,

sighing frequently in bed,

wonders frequently what to do

with his jealous, envious enemies.

IV. THE ASSASSINATION.

The three assemble,

like a hurricane,

assume a battle formation,

and reach One-Ox's cottage

as darkness is falling.

All three call out together:

"Come closer, you filthy liar!

We shall butcher you most cruelly!

We shall hack you into mincemeat!"

Hidden under his straw mattress,

One-Ox replies thus:

"Here I am, your One-Ox,

and you are my lords and masters.

Ere you three kill me,

the one you seek most keenly,

let me tell you how

I wish to die a quick death.

There are many ways of murdering,

but they all lead to the same end.

In order to satisfy both you and me,

let me tell you how I wish to die.

Surely you would not approve,

and you should not approve either,

that I should not undergo

too bitter or too cruel a parting.

I, however, will now reveal

peaceably how you should unalive me,

either right now or in a future.

Take a rope,

tie it tightly round my wrists and ankles,

get a sack half full of rocks,

and stuff me into it.

The sack should be sealed

skilfully with another rope;

then, with my living body inside,

throw the sack off a cliff

into the mighty ocean.

Carry me out to the seaside,

and sink me inside the sack.

In this way, I will die

according to my own wishes."

"As you wish," the trio say.

"We ourself also desire

that you depart in such a way

from this sinful Earth."

They tie up One-Ox, the most detested man,

binding him by the feet and hands.

He's shoved into a sack with rocks

and placed on a cliff, near the ocean.

From inside, One-Ox,

deceiving the three friends as usual,

says: "I confess, right here, right now,

that I've been imprisoned most righteously.

Indeed, I can't be more ready

to meet my Judgement Day!

In light of this new beginning,

my lords, please end your hatred now.

Wretched as I am,

I can't free my hands or feet in this prison.

The accursed ropes, alas!,

torment my extremities.

As a result of your charity,

of these Last Rites so kindly given,

I can no longer lie to you

as I speak from inside this sack;

I must demonstrate my love for you!

There are twelve silver coins

at the bottom of my saving bank.

Buy some drinks, my pious masters,

and toast to the LORD Almighty!"

The Priest, turned a loving man,

speaks in the most courteous manner:

"While we drink the sweetest wine,

sleep sweetly inside your sack."

The trio head for the pub

to make their holy toasts.

They sit and they chat with each other

while they sip a fine Rhine wine.

Meanwhile a swineherd passes by the sack,

with his whole herd of pigs, grunting noisily.

With his bow and arrows in his quiver,

he crosses the road towards the sack.

When One-Ox hears the pigs,

when he feels them rubbing their snouts agains the sack,

he exclaims: "Oh no! Good LORD!

My enemies are not drunk!"

The swineherd shudders with dread

at the mysterious voice from inside the sack.

He taps it with his walking-stick

and addresses the imprisoned One-Ox:

"For what heinous crime, oh lost soul,

were you imprisoned in this sack?"

One-Ox replies readily:

"I have refused the highest honours.

The people of this county

urge me, day after day,

to become their mayor.

But never in my life

will I accept such a rank,

for what I have is enough

and I reject honours and glory."

The greedy swineherd replies:

"Such honours, such glory, will befit me.

Yours truly, taking your place,

will become a wealthy mayor.

Fate must have driven me, you wretch,

to tap your sack with my stick.

Now let me help us switch places!"

The swineherd opens the sack

and unties the ropes around his wrists and ankles,

whilst One-Ox greatly rejoices.

Thus, the business of Lady Fortune is done.

Now One-Ox is free from the fetters

which once confined him.

The swineherd enters the sack

in One-Ox's place

and adjusts his own body,

as if he were sitting on a soft flowerbed.

One-Ox ties the sack's mouth firmly.

Then, leading all the fat pigs,

playing the flute, stick in hand,

he enters a trackless wasteland.

When the three tipplers

return from the pub

and begin to roll the sack towards the cliff,

the swineherd says from inside:

"All right, I shall be your mayor!

I give in to your wishes!

Don't throw me into the ocean!

I am ruled by your desires!"

He hears the waves lapping against the cliffs

as a great crowd clapping their hands.

The Sheriff, wasted with wine,

replies indignantly:

"I don't find these words very amusing.

Let's roll this sack, dear friends,

with all our strength.

Let this wicked One-Ox

become Mayor of the Waves!"

The sack is thrown off the cliff,

into the salty waters.

It is dashed against the rocks,

and, alas!, the poor swineherd is destroyed.

He is forgotten by everybody.

All three of One-Ox's foes,

still rich in foolishness,

think that they finally

have paid their dues

to the deceased One-Ox.

But three days later,

at the weekly fair

(where the hides were sold at the start),

One-Ox returns

to visit his foolish masters.

He enters the village square

with the stick in his right hand,

and the flute in his left, put on his lips,

leading his huge herd of pigs.

He plays his flute carefully,

and, whistling like a swineherd,

he calls together the pink and the dark pigs,

and prods them all with his prong.

Those who see him say that

the stranger looks just like One-Ox,

whose recent death has become

the talk of the whole county.

The Sheriff, the Mayor, and the Priest

learn that One-Ox,

whom they had thrown into the ocean,

has just been resurrected.

Thinking that One-Ox is a ghost,

the three spring up astonished,

and their knees and thighs

shake their tables.

They behold a stranger like One-Ox

leading a great herd of pigs,

but they don't think it's the real One-Ox;

they're sure that they murdered him.

At last all three recognise

that he's the real One-Ox;

and, seeing his fortune in pork,

they ask him who sold him so many beasts.

He replies with a miraculous lie:

"Tumbling beneath the surface,

I entered a marvellous realm

at the bottom of the ocean!

I would never have returned home

from that realm of lovely mermaids,

if it weren't for love of my darling wife,

whose resurrection you witnessed

when I played my magic flute.

It wasn't the flute's fault

that your wives and house-keeper

now snore six feet under ground.

It was your bad playing.

You three have no ear for music!

Why didn't you throw me down there

when I was a little lad?

Still, now I have returned

as a happier, wiser man.

In your hatred, you three

threw me towards my atonement,

where there are so many sea-pigs

you can't count them on your fingers.

A mermaid gave me all of these!"

Admiring One-Ox's story,

the Sheriff speaks up first:

"Highest hope of hams inspires

us to try the waves.

Anyone less perceptive than I

shall either follow me or serve me!"

So they seek the ocean's waves,

the trio led by One-Ox.

The waves lap against the cliffs,

and the three powerful men

think they hear pigs grunting.

They ask One-Ox

where the trail to the sea-pigs goes.

One-Ox indicates the place

where the peril is greatest,

where the cliffs are highest,

where the waters are deepest.

"There you are! You should run quickly

and throw yourselves in without fear!

You'll find more pigs in these waters

than you ever will on dry land!"

With this advice, the three friends

dash themselves off the cliff.

In deadly frenzy,

they drown foolishly in the salty waves.

V. THE MORAL.

The counsels of an enemy

should never, ever, be believed.

This fable reveals this truth,

throughout the centuries,

until the end of time.

--THE END.--