Editor’s Note:
The
following is one of the lost tales from the recently discovered “Le Déjeuner
d’Arthur.” Le Déjeuner was originally a
collection of oral stories recorded by an unknown French printer that some have
identified as Jean Dupré, a contemporary of Caxton whose edition of Le Morte
d’Arthur is well known to English readers.
Through historical misadventure an early copy of Le Déjeuner was taken
by Louis-Joseph de Montcalm to New France where it was eventually translated
into Quebecois. Unfortunately the French
original was lost, and only the Quebecois version remains today. For those of you unfamiliar with Quebecois as
a “language”, Quebecois is to French as Spanglish is to English. Tonton Guillaume Cloche has given us this
current translation of Le Déjeuner.
Today the only known copy of the work can be found in the Royal Canadian
Museum of History in Toronto.
The Quest of Sir Cochon Le Cure Faible
The Bratchet |
Sir
Cochon, a short man of noble girth, some say no less than two wine casks round,
was a worthy trencherman and a hero at drinking wine. It was well known that King Arthur, who was
wary of the expense of keeping such a knight, would not allow Sir Cochon the
privilege of being seated at the Table Round unless Sir Cochon had accomplished
some noble quest, perhaps delivered some fair damosel in distress, or even
righted some great wrong.
It
befell on a day that Sir Cochon sat at his table that a gold bratchet entered
the hall furiously wagging its tail and came to the board to beg from Sir
Cochon, who not being accustomed to the ways of such beasts paid it no
attention, much to his sorrow. The
brachet after a suitable display of whimpering and abject whining, sat panting
the while, its eyes fixed of the great haunch of venison on which Sir Cochon
dined.
Not
being given even a small token, the bratchet all of a sudden lunged forward and
seized the great haunch of venison in its mighty jaws and ran forthwith from
the hall, its tail once more wagging furiously.
Sir
Cochon, who had long been waiting for a worthy quest to bring him honor, leapt
from his seat crying, “A quest, at last!” and, “I will call it the Quest for
the Bratchet with the Great Haunch of Venison!”. So saying he ran from the hall in quick
pursuit all the time tightening his ceinture, his belt, that he had loosed to
give his great belly ease while he was dining.
Alas the pursuit was short and disastrous. In his haste to fasten his belt he saw not
the swine that was sleeping at his doorway and he stumbled, falling head long
into a pile of manure left by that very swine.
Stunned
and stinking he arose and looked about.
The bratchet was nowhere in sight and what Sir Cochon now smelled was
not roast venison. Then from over the
hill in front of his hall came the faint but clear sound of the bratchet
laughing, at least that is what it sounded like if bratchets could laugh. Then, after a brief snickering silence, came
the sound of slavering, tearing and munching as the bratchet devoured the great
haunch of venison.
Sir Cochon staggered around in a small circle, kicked the
sleeping swine, and silently resolved that he would not report the Quest of the
Bratchet with the Great Haunch of Venison to King Arthur and Guinevere. It wouldn’t do for a laughing bratchet to be
seated at the Table Round instead of him.
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