Isengrim believed that this was true and did not worry too much about his hair and skin but said, “Kinsman, now that we are God's children, the eels must be communal property, so that anyone who denies me some would be in trouble with the Cistercians.”

Reynard replied: “Of course. All that we have is available to you in fraternal love. We have, however, run out of fish. If you would care to come with me to where we have a fishpond, there are more fish there than can be counted. The brothers have stocked the pond.”

“Let's go,” said Isengrim.

They set off peaceably to the fishpond, which was frozen over. They had a look at the ice and discovered that a hole had been made in order to draw water. This would soon cause problems for Isengrim.

His supposed brother monk hated him with a passion, and Reynard was delighted to find a bucket that someone or other had left behind, and he tied it to Isengrim's tail.

“In nomine patris,” said Isengrim, “what is that for?

“You have to lower the bucket into the hole, and I’ll start the search. Just keep nice and still and we’ll soon have loads of fish—I can see them through the ice.” Reynard was crafty, and Isengrim was not very bright. “Tell me, my brother in God's love, are there eels in there?”

“I’ve seen thousands of them!”

“Excellent. Let's catch them.”

Isengrim was so dim-witted that he sat there, and his tail froze in. It was a cold and clear night, and his brother monk failed to warn him—Reynard didn't possess a scrap of loyalty— and so Isengrim's tail froze more and more securely in the ice.

“That bucket is getting heavy,” said Isengrim.

“I’ve counted thirty eels in it already,” replied Reynard. “This will be a profitable trip. If you just keep still, we can get a hundred of them.”

Toward daybreak Reynard said: “I tell you, I’m afraid we shall have to abandon our greed for eels. I’m sorry to say that we have so many in the bucket that I can't catch any more.