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 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:
 |
| The Golden Bratchet |
It befell on
a day that Sir Cochon sat at his table that a golden 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.
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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