herself. When night came, the squires entreated a night’s lodging, and the old woman, after some entreaty, began to prepare a couch of quilts, spun of Spanish wool, but it was so narrow and small that it seemed hardly possible for three men to find room in it; however, they made it suffice, and next morning they were roused by the voice of the old dame, who desired them to get up and dig her garden. This employment occupied them the whole of the day. Next day and the day after they had also their work given them to do, and for their labour they were rewarded with board and lodging, such as it was.
When, on the third day, the old woman dismissed the three friends, and, with kind words, told them she had no further occasion for their services, and exhorted them to go on their way, the speaker, Sarron, rose and said, “It is not the custom of the country to dismiss a guest empty-handed; moreover, we have merited from you more than thanks. Have we not stirred the fire under your kettle like kitchen-maids? Have we not caught again your house friend the black cat, which had strayed? Have we not digged your garden, carried water for you, and done everything for you, like obedient servants?
The old mother appeared to bethink herself; she was, according to the custom of old matrons, of a close nature, and did not give anything away lightly; but she had conceived an affection for the three men, and appeared inclined to grant their request. “Let us see,” said she, “if I can find a gift for you, to remind each of you of me.” Thereupon she tripped into her store-room, stirred about in it for a long time, opened and shut chests, and jingled with her keys, as if she had had the care of locking the hundred gates of Thebes. After a long delay, she made her appearance again, carrying something concealed in the lap of her dress, then turned towards the wise Sarron and asked, “Who shall have what I hold now in my hand?” He replied, “The sword-bearer, Andiol.” She drew forth a rusty, copper penny, and said, “Take this, and tell me whose that shall be which I hold in my hand?” The squire, discontented with the distribution, answered, saucily, “Whoever will may have it; what does it matter to me?” The old lady said, “Who will?” Then Amarin the shield-bearer named himself, and received for his share a table-napkin, neatly washed and folded. Sarron stood on the watch, expecting to receive the best; but he got nothing but a thumbstall from a leathern glove, and was much ridiculed by his companions.
The three fellow-travellers now went their way, took a cold leave, without appearing thankful for the charitable gifts or praising the liberality of the niggardly matron. After they had departed about the distance of a field, the sword-bearer, Andiol, began first to fret that they had not better bethought themselves in the Druid’s cave. “Did you not hear, comrades,” said he, “how the sorceress opened and shut chests, in her store-chamber,
