{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_37599/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_37599","id":"gutenberg_37599","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37599","summary":null,"tags":["Adventure stories","Category: Classics of Literature","Category: French Literature","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Eulenspiegel (Satire) -- Legends","Travel"],"text":"\n\n\n\nProduced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net/ for Project\nGutenberg (This file was produced from images generously\nmade available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n THE LEGEND OF THE\n GLORIOUS ADVENTURES\n OF TYL ULENSPIEGEL IN THE\n LAND OF FLANDERS & ELSEWHERE\n\n\n\n by CHARLES DE COSTER\n\n Translated from the French\n By Geoffrey Whitworth\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n Lamme and Ulenspiegel at the Minne-Water Frontispiece\n At Damme when the Hawthorn was in flower Facing page 2\n Claes and Soetkin 8\n Philip and the Monkey 26\n Nele and Ulenspiegel 44\n The Feast of the Blind Men 54\n The Monk's Sermon 76\n Father and Son 94\n Ulenspiegel and Soetkin by the Dead Body of Claes 118\n \"Ah! The lovely month of May!\" 174\n Lamme succours Ulenspiegel 218\n The Mock Marriage 224\n Lamme the Victor 232\n \"'Tis van te beven de klinkaert\" 242\n The Death of Betkin 248\n \"The ashes of Claes beat upon my heart\" 262\n Nele accuses Hans 268\n Katheline led to the Trial by Water 278\n \"Shame on you!\" cried Ulenspiegel 284\n The Sixth Song 302\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nFOREWORD\n\n\nThe book here offered in English to the English-speaking public has\nlong been known and admired by students as the first and perhaps\nthe most notable example of modern Belgian literature. Its author\nwas born of obscure parentage in 1827, and, after a life passed\nin not much less obscurity, died in 1879. The ten years which were\ndevoted to the composition of \"The Legend of Tyl Ulenspiegel\" were\ndevoted to what proved, for de Coster, little more than a labour of\nlove. Recognition came to him but from the few, and it was not till\nsome thirty years after his death that an official monument was raised\nat Brussels to his memory, and an official oration delivered in his\npraise by Camille Lemonnier.\n\nTo the undiscerning among his contemporaries de Coster may have\nappeared little else than a rather eccentric journalist with\narchaeological tastes. For a time, indeed, he held a post on the\nRoyal Commission which was appointed in 1860 to investigate and\npublish old Flemish laws. And towards the end of his life he became\na Professor of History and French Literature at the Military School\nin Brussels. Never, certainly, has a work of imagination, planned\non an epic scale, been composed with a closer regard for historical\ndetail than this Legend. But if our present age is less likely to be\nheld by this than by those other qualities in the book of vitality\nand passion, it can only be that de Coster poured into his work not\nmerely the knowledge and accuracy of an historian, but the love as\nwell and the ardour of a poet and a patriot.\n\nThe objection--if it be an objection--that de Coster borrowed\nunblushingly from his predecessors need never be disputed. His style\nis frankly Rabelaisian. The stage whereon his actors play their parts\nis set, scene almost for scene, from the generally available documents\nthat served such a writer as Thomas Motley for his \"History of the\nRise of the Dutch Republic.\" Even the name, the very lineaments\nof Ulenspiegel, are borrowed from that familiar figure of the\nsixteenth-century chap-books [1] whose jolly pranks and schoolboy\nfrolics have been crystallized in the French word espieglerie,\nand in our own day set to music in one of the symphonic poems of\nRichard Strauss.\n\nYet from such well-worn ingredients de Coster's genius has mixed a\npotion most individually his own. The style of Rabelais is tempered\nwith a finish, a neatness, and a wit that are as truly the product\nof the modern spirit as was the flamboyant jollity of Rabelais\nthe product of his own Renaissance age; the sensible, historical\nforeground of a Motley becomes the coloured background to a romantic\ndrama of human vice and virtue, linked in its turn to a conception\nof the cosmic process which has no other home, surely, than in the\nauthor's brain. While Ulenspiegel himself is now not simply the type\nof young high spirits and animal good humour, but a being as complex,\nas many-sided almost as humanity--all brightness of intellect, all\nwarmth of heart, all honour, and all dream--the immortal Spirit of\nFlanders that knows not what it is to be beaten, whose last song must\nfor ever remain unsung.\n\nWhat shall we say of those other homely personages who fill the\nscene--symbols no less of Flemish character at its finest and of the\nenduringly domestic springs of Flemish national life? Claes the trusty\nfatherhood, Soetkin the valiant motherhood of Flanders, Nele her true\nheart, Lamme Goedzak her great belly that hungers always for more and\nyet more good things to eat and is never satisfied? Or what, again,\nof the tragic Katheline, half witch, half martyr, and the centre of\nthat dark intrigue which seems to throb like a shuttle through the\nmazy pattern of the plot, threading it all into unity?\n\nFrom yet another standpoint: as an envisagement of the horrors of the\nSpanish Inquisition, de Coster's work is probably without parallel\nin an already well-tilled field. The sinister figure of the King of\nSpain broods over it all like a Kaiser, and the episodes of stake and\ntorture are recorded with a realism which might appear exaggerated\nhad not modern Belgium--though in terms of \"scientific warfare\"--an\neven more devilish tale to tell. The fact is that de Coster's trick of\nstating horror and leaving it to make its full effect without a touch\nof the rhetoric of indignation, proves the deadliest of all corrosive\nweapons; and it is hardly surprising that the book had been hailed\nin some quarters as a Protestant tract. But de Coster himself was in\nno sense a theological partisan, and his sympathy with the Beggarmen\nsprang from his enthusiasm for national liberty far more than from\nany bias towards the Protestant cause as such. That Catholicism has\never been identified with tyranny the best Catholic will most deplore,\nnor will de Coster's \"traditional\" irreverence blind such a reader's\neyes to the spiritual generosity which permeates the whole work,\nand is, indeed, its most essential characteristic.\n\nIt remains to add that, in the interests of war-time publishing,\nthe present version represents a curtailment of the Legend as it left\nthe author's hands. Here and there also, to maintain the continuity of\nincident, the translator has permitted himself some slight modification\nof the original text. By this means it is hoped that the proportions\nof the whole have been fairly maintained, and that no vital aspect\nof plot or atmosphere has been altogether suppressed or allowed an\nundue prominence.\n\n\nG. A. W.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nHERE BEGINS THE FIRST BOOK OF THE LEGEND OF THE GLORIOUS JOYOUS AND\nHEROIC ADVENTURES OF TYL ULENSPIEGEL AND LAMME GOEDZAK IN THE LAND\nOF FLANDERS AND ELSEWHERE\n\n\nI\n\n\nAt Damme, in Flanders, when the May hawthorn was coming into flower,\nUlenspiegel was born, the son of Claes.\n\nWhen she had wrapped him in warm swaddling-clothes, Katheline, the\nmidwife, made a careful examination of the infant's head, and found\na piece of skin hanging therefrom.\n\n\"Born with a caul!\" she cried out joyfully. \"Born under a lucky\nstar!\" But a moment later, noticing a small black mole on the baby's\nshoulder, she fell into lamentation.\n\n\"Alas!\" she wept, \"it is the black finger-print of the devil!\"\n\n\"Monsieur Satan,\" said Claes, \"must have risen early this morning,\nif already he has found time to set his sign upon my son!\"\n\n\"Be sure, he never went to bed,\" answered Katheline. \"Here is\nChanticleer only just awakening the hens!\"\n\nAnd so saying she went out of the room, leaving the baby in the arms\nof Claes.\n\nThen it was that the dawn came bursting through the clouds of night,\nand the swallows skimmed chirruping over the fields, while the sun\nbegan to show his dazzling face on the horizon. Claes opened the\nwindow and thus addressed himself to Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"O babe born with a caul, behold! Here is my Lord the Sun who comes\nto make his salutation to the land of Flanders. Gaze on Him whenever\nyou can; and if ever in after years you come to be in any doubt or\ndifficulty, not knowing what is right to do, ask counsel of Him. He\nis bright and He is warm. Be sincere as that brightness, and virtuous\nas that warmth.\"\n\n\"Claes, my good man,\" said Soetkin, \"you are preaching to the\ndeaf. Come, drink, son of mine.\"\n\nAnd so saying, the mother offered to her new-born babe a draught from\nnature's fountain.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nWhile Ulenspiegel nestled close and drank his fill, all the birds in\nthe country-side began to waken.\n\nClaes, who was tying up sticks, regarded his wife as she gave the\nbreast to Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Wife,\" he said, \"hast made good provision of this fine milk?\"\n\n\"The pitchers are full,\" she said, \"but that doth not suffice for my\npeace of mind.\"\n\n\"It seems that you are downhearted over your good fortune,\" said Claes.\n\n\"I was thinking,\" she said, \"that there is not so much as a penny\npiece in that leather bag of ours hanging on the wall.\"\n\nClaes took hold of the bag and shook it. But in vain. There was no\nsign of any money. He looked crestfallen. Nevertheless, hoping to\ncomfort his good wife--\n\n\"What are you worrying about?\" says he. \"Have we not in the bin that\ncake we offered Katheline yesterday? And don't I see a great piece of\nmeat over there that should make good milk for the child for three\ndays at the least? And this tub of butter, is it a ghost-tub? And\nare they spectres, those apples ranged like flags and banners all\nin battle order, row after row, in the storeroom? And is there no\npromise of cool refreshment guarded safe in the paunch of our fine\nold cask of cuyte de Bruges?\"\n\nSoetkin said: \"When we take the child to be christened we shall have\nto give two patards to the priest, and a florin for the feasting.\"\n\nBut at this moment Katheline returned, with a great bundle of herbs\nin her arms.\n\n\"For the child that is born with a caul,\" she cried. \"Angelica that\nkeeps men from luxury; fenel that preserves them from Satan....\"\n\n\"Have you none of that herb,\" asked Claes, \"which is called florins?\"\n\n\"No,\" said she.\n\n\"Very well,\" he answered, \"I shall go and see if I cannot find any\ngrowing in the canal.\"\n\nAnd with that he went off, with his line and his fishing-net, knowing\nthat he would not be likely to meet any one, since it was yet an hour\nbefore the oosterzon, which is, in the land of Flanders, six o'clock\nin the morning.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nClaes came to the Bruges canal, not far from the sea. There, having\nbaited his hook, he cast it into the water and let out the line. On\nthe opposite bank, a little boy was lying against a clump of earth,\nfast asleep. The boy, who was not dressed like a peasant, woke up at\nthe noise that Claes was making, and began to run away, fearing no\ndoubt that it was the village constable come to dislodge him from his\nbed and to hale him off as a vagabond to the steen. But he soon lost\nhis fear when he recognized Claes, and when Claes called out to him:\n\n\"Would you like to earn a penny, my boy? Well then, drive the fish\nover to my side!\"\n\nAt this proposal the little boy, who was somewhat stout for his years,\njumped into the water, and arming himself with a plume of long reeds,\nhe began to drive the fish towards Claes. When the fishing was over,\nClaes drew up his line and his landing-net, and came over by the lock\ngate towards where the youngster was standing.\n\n\"Your name,\" said Claes, \"is Lamme by baptism, and Goedzak by nature,\nbecause you are of a gentle disposition, and you dwell in the rue\nHeron behind the Church of Our Lady. But tell me why it is that,\nyoung as you are, and well dressed, you are yet obliged to sleep out\nhere in the open?\"\n\n\"Woe is me, Mr. Charcoal-burner,\" answered the boy. \"I have a sister\nat home, a year younger than I am, who fairly thrashes me at the\nleast occasion of disagreement. But I dare not take my revenge upon\nher back for fear of doing her some injury, sir. Last night at supper\nI was very hungry, and I was clearing out with my fingers the bottom\nof a dish of beef and beans. She wanted to share it, but there was\nnot enough for us both, sir. And when she saw me licking my lips\nbecause the sauce smelt good, she went mad with rage, and smote me\nwith all her force, so hard indeed that I fled away from the house,\nbeaten all black and blue.\"\n\nClaes asked him what his father and mother were doing during this\nscene.\n\n\"My father hit me on one shoulder and my mother on the other, crying,\n'Strike back at her, you coward!' but I, not wishing to strike a girl,\nmade my escape.\"\n\nAll at once, Lamme went pale all over and began to tremble in every\nlimb, and Claes saw a tall woman approaching, and by her side a young\ngirl, very thin and fierce of aspect.\n\n\"Oh, oh!\" cried Lamme, holding on to Claes by his breeches, \"here\nare my mother and my sister come to find me. Protect me, please,\nMr. Charcoal-burner!\"\n\n\"Wait,\" said Claes. \"First of all let me give you this penny-farthing\nas your wages, and now let us go and meet them without fear.\"\n\nWhen the two women saw Lamme, they ran up and both began to belabour\nhim--the mother because of the fright he had given her, the sister\nbecause it was her habit so to do. Lamme took refuge behind Claes,\nand cried out:\n\n\"I have earned a penny-farthing! I have earned a penny-farthing! Do\nnot beat me!\"\n\nBy this time, however, his mother had begun to embrace him, while the\ngirl was trying to force open his hands and to get at the money. But\nLamme shouted:\n\n\"The money belongs to me. You shall not have it.\"\n\nAnd he kept his fingers tightly closed. But Claes shook the girl\nroughly by the ears, and said to her:\n\n\"If you go on picking quarrels like this with your brother, he that is\nas good and gentle as a lamb, I shall put you in a black charcoal-pit,\nand then it won't be I any longer that will be shaking you by the ears,\nbut the red devil himself from hell, and he will pull you into pieces\nwith his great claws and his teeth that are like forks.\"\n\nAt these words the girl averted her eyes from Claes, nor did she go\nnear Lamme, but hid behind her mother's skirts, and when she got back\ninto the town, she went about crying everywhere:\n\n\"The Charcoal-man has beaten me, and he keeps the devil in his cave.\"\n\nNevertheless she did not attack Lamme any more; but being the bigger\nof the two, she made him work in her place, and the gentle simpleton\nobeyed her right willingly.\n\nNow Claes, on his way home, sold his catch to a farmer that often used\nto buy fish from him. And when he was home again, he said to Soetkin:\n\n\"Behold! Here's what I have found in the bellies of four pike, nine\ncarp, and a basketful of eels.\" And he threw on the table a couple\nof florins and half a farthing.\n\n\"Why don't you go fishing every day, my man?\" asked Soetkin.\n\n\"For fear of becoming a fish myself, and being caught on the hook of\nthe village constable,\" he told her.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nClaes, the father of Ulenspiegel, was known in Damme by the name\nof Kooldraeger, that is to say, the Charcoal-burner. Claes had a\nblack head of hair, bright eyes, and a skin the colour of his own\nmerchandise--save only on Sundays and Feast Days, when his cottage\nran with soap and water. He was a short, thick-set man, strong,\nand of a joyful countenance.\n\nTowards the end of the day, when evening was coming on, he would\nsometimes visit the tavern on the road to Bruges, there to rinse his\ncharcoal-blackened throat with a draught of cuyte; and then the women\nstanding at their doorways to sniff the evening dew would cry out to\nhim in friendly greeting:\n\n\"A good night and a good drink to you, Charcoal-burner.\"\n\n\"A good night to you, and a lively husband!\" Claes would reply.\n\nAnd sometimes the girls, trooping home together from their work in\nthe fields, would line up in front of him right across the road,\nbarring his way.\n\n\"What will you give us for the right of passage?\" they would cry. \"A\nscarlet ribbon, a buckle of gold, a pair of velvet slippers, or a\nflorin piece for alms?\"\n\nBut Claes, holding one of the girls fast by the waist, would give\nher a hearty kiss on her fresh cheek or on her neck, just whichever\nhappened to be nearest, and then he would say:\n\n\"You must ask the rest, my dears, of your sweethearts.\"\n\nAnd off they would go amidst peals of laughter.\n\nAs for the children, they always recognized Claes by his loud voice\nand by the noise his clogs made on the road, and they would run up\nto him and cry:\n\n\"Good evening, Charcoal-burner.\"\n\n\"The same to you, my little angels,\" he would answer; \"but come no\nnearer, lest perchance I turn you into blackamoors.\"\n\nBut the children were bold, and oftentimes would make the venture. Then\nClaes would seize one of them by the doublet, and rubbing his blackened\nhands up and down the little fellow's nose, would send him off all\nsooty, but laughing just the same, to the huge delight of the others.\n\nSoetkin, wife of Claes, was a good wife and mother. She was up with\nthe dawn, and worked as diligently as any ant. She and Claes laboured\ntogether in the field, yoking themselves to the plough as though they\nhad been oxen. It was hard work dragging it along, but even the plough\nwas not so heavy as the harrow, that rustic implement whose task it\nwas to tear up the hardened earth with teeth of wood. But Claes and\nhis wife worked always with a gay heart, and enlivened themselves with\nsinging. And in vain was the earth hard, in vain did the sun hurl\ndown on them his hottest beams, in vain were their knees stiffened\nwith bending and their loins tired with the cruel effort of dragging\nthe harrow along, for they had only to stop a moment while Soetkin\nturned to Claes her gentle face, and while Claes kissed that mirror\nof a gentle heart, and straightway they forgot how tired they were.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nNow the previous day, the town crier had given notice from before\nthe Town Hall that Madame, the wife of the Emperor Charles, being\nnear the time of her delivery, it behoved the people to say prayers\non her behalf.\n\nKatheline came to Claes in a great state of excitement.\n\n\"Whatever is the matter, my good woman?\" he asked.\n\n\"Alas!\" she cried, catching her breath, \"behold! This night the\nghosts are mowing men down like grass. Little girls are being buried\nalive. The executioner is dancing on the body of the dead. And broken,\nthis night, is that Stone which has been sweating blood these nine\nmonths past and more!\"\n\n\"Mercy on us!\" groaned Soetkin. \"Mercy on us, O Lord! This is a black\nomen indeed for the land of Flanders.\"\n\n\"Do you see these things with your own eyes wide awake, or perchance\nin a dream?\" Claes asked her.\n\n\"With my own eyes,\" Katheline told him. And then all pale and tearful,\nshe continued in these words:\n\n\"To-night two children are born: the one in Spain--the infant\nPhilip--and the other in this land of Flanders--the son of Claes,\nhe that later on shall be known by the name of Ulenspiegel. Philip\nwill grow up to be a common hangman, being the child of the Emperor\nCharles the Fifth, the destroyer of our country. But Ulenspiegel\nwill be a master of the merry words and frolics of youth, yet good\nof heart withal, having for his father Claes, the brave working man\nthat knows how to earn his own living with courage, honesty, and\ngentleness. Charles the Emperor and Philip the King will go riding\ntheir way through life, doing evil by battle, extortion, and other\ncrimes. But Claes, working hard all the week, living according to right\nand according to law, and laughing at his laborious lot instead of\nbeing cast down thereby, will be the model of all the good workpeople\nof Flanders. Ulenspiegel, young and immortal, will ramble over the\nworld and never settle in one place. And he will be peasant, nobleman,\npainter, sculptor, all in one. And he will continue his wanderings\nhither and thither, lauding things beautiful and good, and laughing\nstupidity to scorn. Claes, then, O noble people of Flanders, is your\ncourage; Soetkin your valiant motherhood; Ulenspiegel your soul. A\nsweet and gentle maiden, lover of Ulenspiegel and immortal like him,\nshall be your heart; and Lamme Goedzak, with his pot-belly, shall be\nyour stomach. And up aloft shall stand the devourers of the people; and\nbeneath them their victims. On high the thieving hornets; and below the\nbusy bees. While in heaven bleed for evermore the wounds of Christ.\"\n\nAnd when she had thus spoken, Katheline, the kindly sorceress, went\nto sleep.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nOne day Claes caught a large salmon, and on the Sunday he and Soetkin\nand Katheline and the little Ulenspiegel had it for their dinner. But\nKatheline only ate enough to satisfy a sparrow.\n\n\"How now, mother?\" said Claes. \"What has happened to the air of\nFlanders? Has it suddenly grown solid, so that to breathe it is as\nnourishing as a plate of beef? Why, if such were the case, I suppose\nyou will be telling me that the rain is as good as soup, and the hail\nlike beans, and the snow some sort of celestial fricassee, fit cheer\nfor a poor traveller?\"\n\nBut Katheline shook her head, and said not a word.\n\n\"Dear me,\" said Claes, \"our mother is in the dumps it seems! What\ncan it be that grieves her so?\"\n\nBut Katheline spake as follows, in a voice that was like a breath\nof wind:\n\n\"The wicked night falls blackly. He tells of his coming from afar,\nscreaming like the sea-eagle. I tremble, and pray to Our Lady--all\nin vain. For the Night knows neither walls nor hedges, neither doors\nnor windows. Everywhere, like a spirit, he finds a way in. The ladder\ncreaks. The Night has entered into the loft where I am sleeping. The\nNight seizes me in arms that are cold and hard as marble. His face\nis frozen, and his kisses like damp snow. The whole cottage seems to\nbe tossed about over the earth, riding like a ship at sea....\"\n\nClaes said: \"I would counsel you to go every morning to Mass, that\nour Lord Christ may give you strength to chase away this phantom\nfrom hell.\"\n\n\"He is so beautiful!\" said Katheline.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\nUlenspiegel was weaned, and began to grow like a young poplar. And\nsoon Claes gave up caressing him, but loved him in a roughish manner,\nfearing to make a milksop of him. And when Ulenspiegel came home\ncomplaining that he had got the worst of it in some boyish affray,\nClaes would give him a beating because, forsooth, he had not beaten\nthe others. And with such an education Ulenspiegel grew up as valiant\nas a young lion.\n\nWhen Claes was from home, Ulenspiegel would ask his mother to give him\na liard with which he might go out and amuse himself. Soetkin would\ngrow angry, and ask why he wanted to go out for amusement--he would\ndo better to stay at home and tie up faggots. And when he saw that\nshe was not going to give him anything, the boy would start yelling\nlike an eagle, while Soetkin made a great clatter with the pots and\npans that she was washing in the wooden tub, pretending that she did\nnot hear his noise. Then Ulenspiegel would fall to weeping, and the\ngentle mother would stop her pretence at harshness, and would come\nand kiss him.\n\n\"Will a denier be enough for you?\" she would say.\n\nNow it should be noted that a denier is equal to six liards.\n\nThus did his mother dote on Ulenspiegel even to excess; and when\nClaes was not there, he was king in the house.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\n\nOne morning Soetkin saw Claes pacing up and down the kitchen with\nhead bent, like a man lost in thought.\n\n\"Whatever is the matter with you, my man?\" she asked him. \"You are\npale, and you look angry and distracted.\"\n\nClaes answered her in a low voice, like a dog growling.\n\n\"The Emperor is about to reissue those cursed placards. Death once\nagain is hovering over the land of Flanders. The Informers are to\nhave one half of the property of their victims, if so be that such\nproperty does not exceed the value of one hundred florins.\"\n\n\"We are poor,\" Soetkin said.\n\n\"Not poor enough,\" Claes answered. \"Evil folk there are--crows\nand corpse-devouring vultures--who would as readily denounce us\nto the Emperor for half a sackful of coal as for half a sackful of\nflorins. What had she, poor old Widow Tanneken that was wife to Sis\nthe tailor, she that was buried alive at Heyst? Nothing but a Latin\nBible, three gold florins, and a few household utensils of English\npewter. But they were coveted by a neighbour. Then there was Joanna\nMartens whom they burnt as a witch after she had been thrown into\nthe water, for her body did not sink and they held it for a sign of\nsorcery. She had a few miserable pieces of furniture and seven gold\npieces in a bag, and the Informer wanted his half of them. Alas! I\ncould go on till to-morrow morning giving you instances of the same\nkind. But to cut a long story short, Mother, life's no longer worth\nliving in Flanders, and all on account of these placards. Soon every\nnight-time the death-cart will be passing through the town, and we\nshall hear the arid click of bones as the skeletons shake in the wind.\"\n\nSoetkin said: \"You ought not to try and frighten me, my man. The\nEmperor is the father of Flanders and Brabant, and as such he is\nendowed with long-suffering, gentleness, patience, and pity.\"\n\n\"He would be obliged to renounce too much if he were all that,\"\nClaes answered, \"for he has inherited a great amount of confiscated\nproperty.\"\n\nAt that very moment the sound of a trumpet was heard, and the clash\nof the Heralds' cymbals. Claes and Soetkin, carrying Ulenspiegel in\ntheir arms by turns, rushed out towards where the sound came from,\nand with them went a great concourse of people. They came to the Town\nHall, in front of which stood the Heralds on horseback, blowing their\ntrumpets and sounding their cymbals, and the Provost with his staff\nof justice, and the Town Proctor, also on horseback and holding in\nhis hands the Imperial Edict which he was preparing to read out to\nthe assembled multitude.\n\nClaes heard every word, how \"that it was once again forbidden to all\nand sundry to print, read, to possess or to defend, the writings,\nbooks or doctrines of Martin Luther, of John Wycliffe, John Hus,\nMarcilius de Padua, AEcolampadius, Ulricus Zwynglius, Philip Melancthon,\nFranciscus Lambertus, Joannes Pomeranus, Otto Brunselsius, Justus\nJonas, Joannes Puperis, and Gorciamus; as well as any copies of the\nNew Testament printed by Adrien de Berghes, Christophe de Remonda,\nand Joannes Xel, which books were full of Lutheran and other kinds\nof heresy, and had been condemned and rejected by the Doctors of\nTheology at the University of Louvain.\n\n\"Likewise and in the same manner it was forbidden to paint, portray\nor cause to be painted or portrayed any opprobrious paintings or\nfigures of God, or of the Blessed Virgin Mary, or of the saints;\nor to break, destroy or deface the images or pictures made to the\nhonour, remembrance or recollection of God, the Virgin Mary, or of\nthe saints recognized by the Church.\n\n\"Furthermore,\" said the placard, \"no one, whatever his position in\nlife, should presume to discuss or dispute concerning Holy Writ, even\nin regard to matters admittedly doubtful, unless he were a theologian,\nwell known and approved by some established university.\n\n\"His Sacred Majesty decreed, among other penalties, that\nsuspected persons should not be allowed to carry on any honourable\noccupation. And as for men who had fallen again into error, or who\nwere obstinate in the same, they should be condemned to be burnt by\nfire, slow or fast, either in a covering of straw, or else bound\nto a stake, according to the discretion of the judge. Others, if\nthey were men of noble or of gentle birth, were to be executed at\nthe point of the sword, while working people were to be hung, and\nthe women buried alive. Afterwards their heads were to be fixed on\nthe top of poles for an example. The property of all the aforesaid,\nin so far as it was situate in places subject to confiscation, was\nto be made over to the benefit of the Emperor.\n\n\"To the Informers His Sacred Majesty gave one half of all the property\nof the dead, provided that such property did not exceed, on any one\noccasion, a hundred pounds gross in Flemish money. As for the half\nthat went to the Emperor, he would reserve it for works of piety and\nmercy, as was done in the case of the confiscations at Rome.\"\n\nAnd Claes went away sadly, with Soetkin and Ulenspiegel.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\n\nOnce again did Soetkin bear under her girdle the sign of approaching\nmotherhood; and Katheline also was in a like condition. But she was\nafraid, and never ventured out of her house.\n\nWhen Soetkin went to see her, \"Alas!\" said Katheline, \"what shall I\ndo? Must I smother the ill-starred fruit of my womb? I would rather\ndie myself. And yet if the Sergeant summons me for having a child\nwithout being married, they will make me pay twenty florins like a\ngirl of no reputation, and I shall be flogged in the Market Square.\"\n\nSoetkin consoled and comforted her as sweetly as she could, then left\nher, and returned thoughtfully home.\n\nOne day she said to Claes:\n\n\"If I brought two children into the world instead of one, would you\nbe angry? Would you beat me, my man?\"\n\n\"That I cannot say,\" Claes answered.\n\n\"But if the second were not really mine, but turned out to be like\nthis child of Katheline's, the offspring of some one unknown--the\ndevil maybe?\"\n\n\"Devils beget fire, death, smoke,\" Claes replied, \"but\nchildren--no. Yet will I take for my own the child of Katheline.\"\n\n\"You will?\" cried Soetkin. \"You really will?\"\n\n\"I have said it,\" Claes replied.\n\nSoetkin hurried off to tell Katheline the news, who when she heard\nit could not contain her delight, but cried aloud with joy.\n\n\"He has spoken, the good man, and his words are the salvation of my\nbody. He will be blessed by God--and blessed by the devil as well,\nif really\"--and she trembled as she spoke the words--\"if really it is\nthe devil who is father to the little one that begins to stir beneath\nmy breast!\"\n\nAnd in due time Soetkin and Katheline brought into the world,\nthe one a baby boy and the other a baby girl. Both were brought to\nbaptism as the children of Claes. Soetkin's son was christened Hans,\nand did not live. But Katheline's daughter, who was christened Nele,\ngrew up finely.\n\nShe drank of the liquor of life from a fourfold flagon. Two of the\nflagons belonged to Katheline, and two were Soetkin's. And there was\nmany a sweet dispute as to whose turn it was to give the child to\ndrink. But much against her will, Katheline was obliged to let her\nmilk dry up, lest questions should be asked as to where it came from,\nand she no mother....\n\nBut when the little Nele, that was her daughter, was weaned, then\nKatheline took her home to live with her, nor did she let her go back\nto Soetkin except when Nele called for her \"mother.\"\n\nThe neighbours said that it was a right and natural thing to do for\nKatheline to look after the child of Claes and Soetkin. For they\nwere needy and poverty-stricken, whereas Katheline was comparatively\nwell off.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nX\n\n\nOne day Soetkin said to Claes:\n\n\"Husband, I am heart-broken. This is now the third day that Tyl has\nbeen away. Know you not where he is?\"\n\nClaes answered her sadly:\n\n\"He is with all the others, roving vagabonds like himself, on the high\nroad. Verily, it was cruel of God to give us such a son. When he was\nborn I thought of him as the joy of our old age, and as another help\nin our house, for I hoped to make a good workman of him. But now some\nevil chance hath turned him into a thief and a good-for-nothing.\"\n\n\"You are too hard on him, my man,\" said Soetkin. \"He is our son, and he\nis but nine years old, and filled with childish folly. It is needful\nthat he also, like the trees of the field, should let fall his husks\nby the wayside ere he decks himself with the full foliage of virtue\nand honesty. He is mischievous; I do not deny it. But later on this\nspirit of his will be turned to good account, if instead of driving\nhim to tricks and frolics it is put to some useful purpose. He makes\nfun of the neighbours; true. But one day you will find him take his\nrightful place in the midst of a circle of gay and happy friends. He\nis always laughing and frivolous; yes, but a young face that is too\nserious bodes ill for the future. And if he is always running about,\nit is because his growing body needs to be exercised; and if he is\nidle and does no work, it is because he is not yet old enough to\nfeel the duty of labour. And if, now and then, he does stay away\nfrom us for half a week at a time, it is only because he fails to\nrealize the grief he causes us; for he has a good heart, husband,\nand at bottom he loves us.\"\n\nClaes shook his head and said nothing, and went to sleep, leaving\nSoetkin to her lonely tears. And she, in the morning, afraid lest her\nson had fallen sick upon the road, went out and stood at the cottage\ndoorstep to see if he were coming back. But there was no sign of him,\nand she came back into the cottage, and sat by the window, gazing\nout all the time into the street. And many a time did her heart dance\nwithin her bosom at the light footfall of some urchin that she thought\nmight be her own; but when the sound passed by, and she knew that it\nwas not Ulenspiegel, then she wept, poor mother that she was.\n\nUlenspiegel, meanwhile, with the fellow-scamps that bore him company,\nwas away at Bruges, at the Saturday market.\n\nThere were to be seen the shoemakers and the cobblers, each in his\nseparate stall, the tailors selling suits of clothes, the miesevangers\nfrom Antwerp (they that snare tom-tits by night with the aid of an\nowl); and the poulterers too, and the rascally dog-fanciers, and\nsellers of catskins that are made into gloves, and of breast-pads and\ndoublets: buyers too of every kind, townsmen and townswomen, valets,\nservants, pantlers and butlers, and cooks, male and female, all\ntogether, buying and selling, each according to his quality shouting\nhis wares, crying up or crying down, with every trick of the trade.\n\nNow in one corner of the market-place stood a wonderful tent made\nof cloth, raised aloft on four piles. At the door of the tent was\na peasant from the level land of Alost, and by his side two monks\nbegged for alms. For the sum of one patard the peasant offered to\nshow to the curious or devout a genuine piece of the shoulder-bone of\nSt. Mary of Egypt. There he was, yelling out in his broken voice the\nmerits of the saint, and not omitting from his song that tale which\ntells how she, being without money, paid the young ferryman in the\nbeautiful coinage of Nature herself, lest by refusing a workman his\ndue she might be guilty of sin. And all the while the two monks kept\nnodding their heads, as much as to say that it was Gospel truth that\nthe peasant was speaking. And at their side was a fat, red-faced woman,\nas lewd-looking as Astarte, blowing a raucous bagpipe, while at her\nside a young girl sang in a voice sweet as a bird's, though no one\nheeded her. Now above the door of the tent, and swung between two\npoles by a cord fastened to either handle, was a tub of Holy Water\nwhich the fat woman affirmed had been brought from Rome; and the two\nmonks lolled their heads backwards and forwards in confirmation or what\nshe said. Ulenspiegel, looking at the tub, grew suddenly thoughtful.\n\nFor to one of the posts of the tent was tied a donkey--a donkey that\nto all appearance was wont to feed on hay rather than on oats. For\nits head was down, and it scanned the earth in futile hopes of seeing\nbut a thistle growing there.\n\n\"Comrades,\" said Ulenspiegel, pointing to the fat old woman, the two\nmonks, and the melancholy donkey, \"since the masters play so well,\nlet us also make the donkey dance.\"\n\nAnd so saying he went to a stall close by and purchased six liards'\nworth of pepper. Then he lifted up the tail of the donkey, and placed\nthe pepper underneath it.\n\nWhen the donkey began to feel the sting of the pepper, he cast his eye\nbackwards under his tail, endeavouring to discover the cause of the\nunaccustomed heat. Thinking that it must be at the least some fiery\ndevil from hell, the donkey conceived the not unnatural desire to run\naway and escape him; so he began to bray as loud as he could, and to\nkick up his heels, and to shake the post with all his strength. At\nthe first shock, the tub hanging between the two poles tipped over,\nand the holy water ran about over the tent and over those that were\ninside. And soon the tent itself collapsed, covering with a dripping\nmantle all those who were listening to the wondrous tale of St. Mary\nof Egypt. And Ulenspiegel and his comrades could hear a mighty noise\nissuing from beneath the tent, a noise of moaning and lamentation. For\nthe devout folk that were within began to accuse one another of having\noverturned the tub, and presently grew red with rage, and fell upon\neach other with many furious blows. The tent began to bulge here and\nthere above the frantic efforts of the combatants. And each time that\nUlenspiegel descried some rounded form outlined through the cloth of\nthe tent, he went and gave it a prick with a pin. This was the signal\nfor new and louder cries, and for fiercer and more general fisticuffs.\n\nUlenspiegel was delighted, and soon he was to become even more so,\nwhen he saw the donkey begin to run away, dragging behind him tent,\ntub, tent-posts and all, while the master of the tent, with his wife\nand daughter, hung on behind the baggage. At last the donkey, being\nable to go no farther, raised his nose in the air, and gave vent to\nbray after bray, a music that only ceased at those moments when he\nwas looking back under his tail to see if the fire that still raged\nthere would not soon go out.\n\nAll this time, the devout assembly in the tent were still\na-fighting. But the two monks, without troubling at all about what\nwas going on inside, began to gather up the money that had fallen\nfrom the collection-plate, and Ulenspiegel assisted them devotedly,\nbut not without some profit to himself....\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\n\nNow all this time that the vagabond son of the charcoal-burner was\ngrowing up in merriment and mischief, the moody scion of His Sacred\nMajesty the Emperor was vegetating like a weed in moody melancholy. The\nLords and Ladies of the Court used to watch him as he mouched along\nthe rooms and passages of the palace at Valladolid, a frail, pitiful\nspecimen of humanity, with legs that shook and scarce seemed able\nto support the weight of the big head that was covered with stiff\nblond hair.\n\nHe loved to haunt dark corridors, and he would stay sitting there\nwhole hours together, with his legs stretched out in front of him,\nhoping that some valet or other might trip over them by mistake; then\nhe would have the fellow flogged; for he took pleasure in listening\nto his cries under the lash. But he never laughed.\n\nAnother day he would select some other corridor in which to lay a\nsimilar trap, and once again he would sit himself down with his legs\nstretched out in front of him. Then one of the Ladies of the Court,\nmayhap, or one of the Lords or pages, would stumble across him;\nand if they fell down and hurt themselves, he took delight in their\ndiscomfiture. But he never laughed. And if by chance any one knocked\nagainst him but did not fall down, he would cry out as if he had been\nstruck. He liked to see the other's fright. But he never laughed.\n\nHis Sacred Majesty was informed of these goings-on, and he commanded\nthat no notice should be taken of the child, saying that if his son\ndid not want people to walk over his legs he should not place his\nlegs in a position where they were liable to be walked over. Philip\nwas angry at this, but he said nothing and was no more seen, till\none fine summer day when he went out into the courtyard to warm his\nshivering body in the sun.\n\nCharles, riding back from the war, saw his son thus brewing his\nmelancholy.\n\n\"How now?\" cried the Emperor. \"What a difference there is between us\ntwo, my son! At your age I loved nothing better than to go climbing\ntrees after squirrels. Or, with the aid of a rope, to clamber down some\nsteep cliff to take young eagles out of their nests. I might easily\nhave broken my bones at the game; but they only grew the harder. And\nwhen I went out hunting, the deer fled into the thickets at sight of\nme, armed with my trusty arquebus.\"\n\n\"Ah, my Lord Father,\" sighed the child, \"but you see, I have the\nstomach-ache.\"\n\n\"For that,\" said Charles, \"good wine from Paxarete is a most certain\nremedy.\"\n\n\"I don't like wine. I have a headache, my Lord Father.\"\n\n\"Then you should run and jump and play about like other children of\nyour age.\"\n\n\"I have stiff legs, my Lord Father.\"\n\n\"And how should it be otherwise,\" said Charles, \"seeing that you\nmake no more use of them than if they were of wood? But you shall\ngo riding on a high-mettled horse.\"\n\nThe child began to cry.\n\n\"Oh no, for mercy's sake! I have a pain in my back!\"\n\n\"Come, come,\" said Charles, \"are you ill everywhere then?\"\n\n\"I should not be ill at all,\" answered the child, \"if only they would\nlet me alone.\"\n\n\"Do you think to pass your royal life away in dreams like a\nscholar?\" the Emperor asked impatiently. \"Such people as that, if\nindeed it be necessary for the inking of their parchments, may rightly\nseek out silence, solitude, retirement from the world. But for thee,\nson of the sword, I would desire warm blood, a lynx's eye, a fox's\ncraft, and the strength of Hercules. Why do you cross yourself? Blood\nof God! What should a lion's cub be doing with this mimicry of women\nat their prayers!\"\n\n\"Hark! It is the Angelus, my Lord Father,\" answered the child.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\n\nMay and June that year were in very truth the months of flowers. Never\nhad Flanders known the hawthorn so fragrant, never the gardens so gay\nwith roses, jasmine, and honeysuckle. And when the wind blew eastwards\nfrom England it carried with it the breath of all this flowery land,\nand the people, at Antwerp and elsewhere, sniffed the air joyfully\nand cried aloud:\n\n\"How good the scent of the wind that blows from Flanders!\"\n\nThen it was that the bees were busy sucking honey from the flowers,\nmaking wax, and laying their eggs within the hives that were all too\nsmall to house the swarms. What workman's music they made, under that\ncanopy of azure sky that was spread so dazzlingly over the rich earth!\n\nThe hives were made of rushes, straw, osiers or of wattled hay. And\nthere the bees, like clever basket-makers, lined and tunnelled\nthe hives with their beautifully fitting tools. And as for the\nbread-makers, this long time past their numbers were scarce sufficient\nfor the work they had to do. In a single swarm there would be as many\nas three thousand bees and two thousand seven hundred drones! The\nquality of the comb was so exquisite that the Dean of Damme dispatched\neleven combs to the Emperor Charles out of gratitude for the new\nedicts that had revived in Flanders the earlier vigour of the Holy\nInquisition. It was Philip, forsooth, that ate them all; but little\ngood did they do him!\n\nBut in Flanders, the rascals of the roads, the beggars and vagabonds\nand all that lazy good-for-nothing crowd who would risk hanging rather\nthan do a day's work, were soon enticed by the taste of the honey to\ncome along and steal their share. And by night they prowled around\nthe hives in gangs. Now Claes had made some hives for the purpose\nof attracting the wandering swarms of bees, and some of these hives\nwere full already, but there were others that stood empty waiting for\nthe bees. Claes kept watch all night to guard this sugary wealth of\nhis; and when he was tired he asked Ulenspiegel to take his place,\nthe which Ulenspiegel did right willingly.\n\nIt was a cold night, and Ulenspiegel to avoid the chill took refuge\nin one of the hives, curling himself up inside, and looking out from\ntwo openings that had been made in the roof of the hive.\n\nJust as he was going off to sleep, he heard a rustle in the bushy\nhedge near by, and then the voices of two men. They were thieves,\nno doubt, and peering forth from the openings aforesaid, Ulenspiegel\nsaw that they both had long hair and long beards, which was strange,\nfor a long beard is usually the sign of a nobleman. However, the two\nmen went peering from hive to hive, and coming at last to the one in\nwhich Ulenspiegel was hiding, they tried its weight, and then----\n\n\"Let us take this one,\" they said. \"It is the heaviest.\"\n\nWhereupon they slung it up between them, on a couple of poles, and\ncarried it off. Ulenspiegel did not at all fancy being thus carted\naway in a hive. But the night was clear, and the two thieves marched\nalong with never a word. When they had gone about fifty paces they\nwould stop to take breath, and then set off again. The man in front\ngrumbled angrily all the time at the weight of his burden. And the\nman behind whined in a querulous fashion. Even so are there always\nto be found two sorts of idle fellows in this world, those who are\nangry at having to work, and those who merely whine at having to.\n\nUlenspiegel, since there seemed nothing else to do, took hold of the\nhair of the man in front and gave it a pull. And he did the same to the\nbeard of the man at the rear; and to such purpose that the two men soon\ngrew annoyed at what was happening, and Mr. Angry said to Mr. Whining:\n\n\"Hi there, stop pulling my hair, you, or else I'll give you such a\nwhack on the head that it'll squash down into your chest, and then\nyou'll be looking out of your two sides like a thief through the\nprison grille!\"\n\n\"I should never think of doing such a thing as to pull your hair,\"\nsaid the whiner. \"But what are you doing there, pulling at my beard?\"\n\nTo which Mr. Angry made answer:\n\n\"It isn't I that would go hunting for fleas in the wool of a leper!\"\n\n\"O sir,\" said the whiner, \"for goodness' sake don't go shaking the\nhive about like this. My poor arms cannot support it any longer.\"\n\n\"I shall shake it out of your arms altogether,\" said the other. Then\nunloading himself, he placed the hive upon the ground and fell upon\nhis companion. And so they fought together, the one cursing, and the\nother crying out for mercy.\n\nUlenspiegel, hearing the sound of blows, came out from the hive,\ndragged it behind him into the wood close by, and having placed it\nwhere he could find it again, returned to Claes.\n\nAnd thus you may see what sort of a profit it is that thieves derive\nfrom their quarrels.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\n\nAs he grew up, Ulenspiegel acquired the habit of wandering about among\nthe fairs and markets of the country-side, and whenever he hit upon a\nman who played the oboe, the rebec, or the bagpipes, he would offer him\na patard for a lesson in the art of making those instruments to sing.\n\nHe became especially accomplished in the art of playing the rommelpot,\nan instrument which is constructed out of a round pot, a bladder, and\na straight piece of straw. And this is the way he played it. First of\nall he moistened the bladder and held it over the pot. Then he drew\nthe centre of the bladder round the joint of a straw which itself was\nattached to the bottom of the pot. Finally he stretched the bladder\nas tightly as he dared over the sides of the pot. In the morning,\nwhen the bladder was dry, it sounded like a tambourine when struck,\nand if one rubbed the straw it gave forth a humming sound as fine\nin tone as that of any violin. And Ulenspiegel, with his musical\npot that played music like the baying of a mastiff, went out with\nthe other children on the day of Epiphany carrying a star made of\nluminous paper, and singing carols.\n\nSometimes an artist would come to Damme to paint the members of one\nof the Guilds, upon their knees. Ulenspiegel was always anxious\nto see how the artist worked, and he would beg to be allowed to\ngrind the colours in return for nothing but a slice of bread, three\nliards, and a pint of ale. But while he worked away at the grinding\nhe would carefully study the method of his master. When the artist\nwent away Ulenspiegel would endeavour to paint pictures like him;\nand his favourite colour was scarlet. In this way he tried to paint\nthe portraits of Claes, of Soetkin, and of Katheline and Nele, as\nwell as those of the pots and pans in the kitchen. When Claes beheld\nthese works of art he predicted that if only he worked hard enough\nUlenspiegel would one day be able to earn florins by the dozen for\npainting the inscriptions on the festal cars, or speel-wagen as they\nare called in Zeeland and the land of Flanders.\n\nUlenspiegel also learnt to carve in wood and in stone, for once a\nmaster-mason came to Damme to carve a stall in the choir of Notre\nDame. And this stall was made in such a way that the Dean--who was an\nold man--could sit down when he so desired, yet seem to all appearance\nas if he were still standing upright.\n\nIt was Ulenspiegel too who made the first carved knife-handle ever\nused by the people of Zeeland. He fashioned this handle in the form\nof a cage. Inside was a death's head that moved; and above it a hound\ncouchant. And this was the signification: \"Soul true till death.\"\n\nThus it was that Ulenspiegel began to fulfil the prophecy that\nKatheline had made when she said that he would be painter, sculptor,\nworkman, nobleman, all in one. For you must know that from father to\nson the family of Claes bore arms three pint pots argent au naturel\non a ground bruinbier.\n\nBut Ulenspiegel would stick to no one profession, and Claes told him\nthat if he went on in this good-for-nothing way he would chase him\nout of the house.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\n\nOn his return from the wars, the Emperor wanted to know why his son\nPhilip was not there to welcome him.\n\nThe Archbishop--the royal Governor--said that the child had refused to\nleave his solitude and the books which were the only things he loved.\n\nThe Emperor asked where he was to be found at the moment. The Governor\ndid not know exactly, but said they had better go and look for him\nsomewhere where it was dark. This they did.\n\nWhen they had looked through a good number of rooms they came at last\nto a kind of closet, unpaved and lit only by a skylight. There they\nfound a stake stuck into the ground, and a dear little monkey bound\nto the stake by a cord round the waist. (Now this monkey had been\nsent from the Indies as a present to His Highness to amuse him with\nits youthful gambols).... Round the bottom of the stake were some\nsmoking sticks still glowing, and the closet was filled with a foul\nsmell as of burning hair.\n\nThe poor animal had suffered so much pain while being burnt to death\nthat its little body no longer looked the body of a living animal,\nbut seemed rather like the fragment of some root, all wrinkled and\ndistorted. And its mouth, still open with the death-cry, was filled\nwith froth mixed with blood; and the face was wet with tears.\n\n\"Who has done this?\" said the Emperor.\n\nThe Governor did not dare to answer, and the two men stood there\nsilent, sad, and angry.\n\nAll at once, in the silence, there was heard a sound of feeble coughing\nthat came from a corner in the shadow behind them. His Majesty turned\nand beheld Philip, his son, dressed all in black, sucking an orange.\n\n\"Don Philip,\" he said, \"come and greet your father.\"\n\nThe child did not move, but gazed at his father with timid eyes that\nshowed no spark of love.\n\n\"Is it you,\" asked the Emperor, \"who have burnt alive in the fire\nthis little animal?\"\n\nThe child bowed his head.\n\nBut the Emperor: \"If you have been cruel enough to do such a deed,\nat least be brave enough to own up to it.\"\n\nThe child made no answer.\n\nHis Majesty seized the orange from the child's hands, threw it to the\nground, and was about to beat his son, who was shaking with terror,\nwhen the Archbishop restrained him, whispering in his ear:\n\n\"The day will surely come when His Highness shall prove a mighty\nburner of heretics.\" The Emperor smiled, and the two of them went away,\nleaving Philip alone with the monkey.\n\nBut others there were, not monkeys, that were destined to meet their\ndeath in the flames....\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXV\n\n\nNovember was come, the month of hail-storms, when sufferers from cold\nin the head abandon themselves freely to their concerts of coughing\nand spitting. This also is the month when the turnip-fields are\nfilled with gangs of youths that there disport themselves and steal\nwhatever they can, to the mighty wrath of the peasants, who try in\nvain to catch them, chasing after them with sticks and pitchforks.\n\nWell, on an evening when Ulenspiegel was returning home from one of\nthese raids, he heard close by, in a corner of the hedgerow, a sound\nas of groaning. He leant down, and beheld a dog lying stretched out\non the stones.\n\n\"Hallo!\" he cried. \"Poor little beast! What are you doing out here\nso late at night?\"\n\nHe patted the dog, and found that its back was all wet, as though some\none had been trying to drown it. He took it in his arms to warm it,\nand when he had reached home he said:\n\n\"I have brought back a wounded animal. What shall we do with it?\"\n\n\"Dress its wounds,\" said Claes.\n\nUlenspiegel laid the dog on the table; whereupon he and Claes and\nSoetkin saw that it was a little red-haired Luxemburg terrier, and that\nit was wounded in the back. Soetkin sponged the wounds, and anointed\nthem with ointment, and bound them up with linen bandages. Then\nUlenspiegel took the dog and put it in his bed; but Soetkin desired\nto have it in her own, saying she was afraid that Ulenspiegel would\nhurt the little red-haired thing. For in those days Ulenspiegel was\nwont to toss about in his sleep all night like a young devil in a\nstoup of holy water. Ulenspiegel, however, had his way, and he took\nsuch care of the dog that in the space of six days it was walking\nabout like any other dog, and giving itself great airs.\n\nAnd the village schoolmaster christened him Titus Bibulus Schnouffius:\nTitus after a certain good Emperor of the Romans who was fond of\nbefriending lost dogs; Bibulus because the dog loved beer with all\nthe passion of a confirmed drunkard; and Schnouffius because he would\nalways run about sniffing and putting his nose into every rat-hole\nand mole-hole he could find.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXVI\n\n\nThe young prince of Spain was now fifteen years old, and his custom was\nto wander about the rooms and passages and stairways of the castle. But\nchiefly was he to be found prowling around the women's quarters,\ntrying to pick a quarrel with one of the pages, who themselves were\nwont to lurk on the look out, like cats, in the corridors; while\nothers, again, out in the courtyard, would stand singing some tender\nballad, nose in air. When the young prince heard one singing thus,\nhe would show himself at one of the windows, and the heart of that\npoor page would be stricken with fear as he saw that white face there,\ninstead of the gentle eyes of his beloved.\n\nNow among the Ladies of the Court there was a gentle dame from Dudzeel\nnear by Damme in Flanders. Fair-fleshed she was, like fine ripe fruit,\nand marvellously beautiful, for she had green eyes and reddish hair\nall wavy and gleaming gold. And of a gay humour was she, and of an\nardent complexion, nor did she make any effort to conceal her taste\nfor that fortunate lord to whom for the time being she was pleased\nto grant the freedom of the fair estate of her love. Such a one there\nwas even now, handsome and proud, and she loved him well. Every day,\nat a certain hour, she went to find him--a thing which Philip was\nnot long in finding out.\n\nSo, one day, sitting himself down on a bench that stood against a\nwindow, he lay in wait for her, and there she saw him as she passed\nby, with her bright eyes and her mouth half open, all meet for love\nand fresh from her bath, with the gear of her dress of yellow brocade\nswinging about her as she stepped along. Without rising from his seat,\nPhilip accosted her.\n\n\"Madame,\" says he, \"could you not spare a moment?\"\n\nRestive as some eager mare, stayed in her course towards the gallant\nstallion that is neighing for her in the field, the lady made answer:\n\n\"All here must needs obey the royal will of your Highness.\"\n\n\"Then sit you down by my side,\" said the Prince. And gazing at her\nlewdly, harshly, cunningly, he spake again:\n\n\"I would have you recite to me the Pater Noster in Flemish. They\ntaught it me once, but I no longer remember it.\"\n\nThe poor lady did as she was bid; and then the Prince commanded her\nto say it all over again, but more slowly. And so on, and so on,\nuntil she had recited it ten times over. After that he began to speak\nflatteringly to her, praising her beautiful hair, her fresh complexion,\nand her bright eyes. But he dared not to say a word concerning her\nlovely shoulders or her rounded throat, or of aught else beside.\n\nWhen at last she was beginning to hope that she might be able to\nget away, and was already scanning anxiously the courtyard where her\nlord was awaiting her, the Prince demanded of her if she could rightly\ntell him what were the several virtues of woman? She answered nothing,\nfearing that she might say something to displease him. He then answered\nfor her, setting the matter forth in this wise:\n\n\"The virtues of woman are these: chastity, regard for her own honour,\nand a modest manner of life.\" And he counselled her, therefore,\nthat she should dress decently and should always be careful to hide\nthose things which were meet to be hidden. The lady nodded assent,\nsaying that for His Hyperborean Highness she would certainly take\ncare to cover herself with ten bear-skins rather than with a single\nlength of muslin.\n\nHaving put him to shame by this answer, she made off gladly.\n\nBut in Philip's heart the fire of youth was alight--not the fiery glow\nthat dares the souls of the brave to lofty deeds, but a dark fire from\nhell itself, the fire of Satan. And it flamed in his grey eyes like\nthe beam of a winter's moon shining down upon a charnel-house. And\nit burned within him cruelly....\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXVII\n\n\nNow this beautiful, gay-hearted lady left Valladolid one day for her\nChateau of Dudzeel in Flanders.\n\nPassing through Damme, with her fat attendant behind her, she noticed\na lad of about fifteen years of age sitting against the wall of a\ncottage blowing a pair of bagpipes. In front of him was a dog with\nred hair howling dismally, because, as it seemed, he did not at\nall appreciate the music which his master was making. The sun shone\nbrightly, and at the lad's side there stood a pretty young girl in\nfits of laughter at the pitiful howling of the dog.\n\nThis then was the sight that met the eye of the beautiful lady and\nher fat attendant as they passed in front of the cottage: none else\nbut Ulenspiegel blowing his pipes, and Nele in fits of laughter,\nand Titus Bibulus Schnouffius howling with all his might.\n\n\"You naughty boy,\" said the dame to Ulenspiegel, \"will you never stop\nmaking this poor red-hair howl like this?\"\n\nBut Ulenspiegel, staring back at her, blew his pipes more valiantly\nthan ever, and Bibulus Schnouffius howled the more dismally, and Nele\nlaughed all the louder.\n\nThe lady's attendant grew angry, and pointed at Ulenspiegel, saying:\n\n\"If I beat this wretched little imp of a man with the scabbard of my\nsword he would give over his insolent row.\"\n\nUlenspiegel looked the attendant in the face and called him\n\"Jan Papzak\" because of his fat belly, and went on blowing his\nbagpipes. The attendant came up to him, and threatened him with his\nfist. But Bibulus Schnouffius went for him straightway and bit him\nin the leg, and the man fell down, crying for mercy:\n\n\"Help, help!\"\n\nThe dame only smiled, and said to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Tell me, my player of bagpipes, is the road still the same that\nleads from Damme to Dudzeel?\"\n\nBut Ulenspiegel went on playing, and only nodded his head and stared.\n\n\"Why do you look at me so fixedly?\" she asked him.\n\nBut he, still continuing to play, opened his eyes all the wider as\nthough transported by an ecstasy of admiration.\n\n\"Are you not ashamed,\" she said, \"young as you are, to stare at\nladies so?\"\n\nUlenspiegel blushed faintly, but went on blowing his pipes, and\nstaring more than ever.\n\n\"I have already asked you once,\" the lady insisted, \"whether the road\nis still the same that leads from Damme to Dudzeel.\"\n\n\"It is green no longer since you deprived it of the honour of carrying\nyou,\" Ulenspiegel answered.\n\n\"Will you show me the way?\" said the lady.\n\nBut Ulenspiegel still remained sitting where he was, and still went\non staring at her. And she, seeing him so roguish, and knowing it\nall for the gamesomeness of youth, forgave him willingly.\n\nHe got up at last, and began to walk back into the cottage.\n\n\"Whither are you going?\" she asked him.\n\n\"To put on my best clothes,\" he replied.\n\n\"Very well,\" she said.\n\nThen the lady sat herself down on the bench, close to the doorstep,\nand tried to talk to Nele. But Nele would not answer her, for she\nwas jealous.\n\nIt was not long before Ulenspiegel returned, well washed and clothed\nin fustian. He looked fine in his Sunday clothes, the little man.\n\n\"Are you really going off with this fine lady?\" Nele asked him.\n\n\"I shall soon be back,\" he told her.\n\n\"Let me go instead of you,\" said Nele.\n\n\"No,\" he said, \"the roads are muddy.\"\n\n\"Why, little girl,\" said the lady, who was annoyed and jealous now\nin her turn, \"why do you try to hinder him from coming with me?\"\n\nNele did not answer, but great tears gushed from her eyes, and she\ngazed at the fine lady in sadness and in anger.\n\nThen the four of them started off, the dame seated like a queen\nupon her ambling palfrey, the attendant with his belly that shook\nwith every step, Ulenspiegel holding the lady's horse by the bridle,\nand Bibulus Schnouffius walking at his side, tail proudly in air.\n\nThus went they on horseback and on foot for some long while. But\nUlenspiegel was not at his ease; dumb as a fish he sniffed the fine\nscent of benjamin that floated from the lady, and saw out of the\ncorner of his eye all her beautiful gear, rare jewels and trinkets,\nand the sweet expression of her face, her bright eyes, and bare neck,\nand her hair that shone in the sunlight like a hood of gold.\n\n\"Why are you so quiet, my little man?\" she asked him.\n\nHe answered nothing.\n\n\"Do you keep your tongue so deep in your boots that you could not\ntake a message for me?\"\n\n\"What is it?\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"I would have you leave me here,\" said the dame, \"and go to Koolkercke,\nfrom whence this wind is blowing. There you will find a gentleman\ndressed in black and red motley. Tell him that he must not expect\nme to-day, but let him come to-morrow evening to my chateau, by the\npostern gate, at ten o' the clock.\"\n\n\"I will not go,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Why not?\" asked the lady.\n\n\"I will not go, not I,\" Ulenspiegel said again.\n\n\"What can it be,\" the lady asked him, \"what can it be that inspires\nyou with this unyielding will, you angry little cock?\"\n\n\"I will not go,\" Ulenspiegel persisted.\n\n\"But if I gave you a florin?\"\n\n\"No,\" said he.\n\n\"A ducat?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"A carolus!\"\n\n\"No,\" Ulenspiegel repeated, \"although\"--and this was added with\na sigh--\"I should rather see it in my mother's purse than a\nmussel-shell!\"\n\nThe dame laughed, then suddenly cried out in a loud voice:\n\n\"My bag! I have lost my little bag! Beautiful it was and rare, made\nof silk, and sown with fine pearls! It was hanging from my belt when\nwe were at Damme!\"\n\nUlenspiegel did not budge, but her attendant came up to his lady.\n\n\"Madame,\" said he, \"whatever else you do, be careful not to send\nthis young robber to look for it, for so you will certainly never\nsee it again.\"\n\n\"Who will go then?\" asked the lady.\n\n\"I will,\" he answered, \"old as I am.\"\n\nAnd away he went.\n\nMidday had struck. It was very hot. The silence was\nprofound. Ulenspiegel said not a word, but taking off his new doublet\nhe laid it on the grass in the shade of a lime-tree, so that the dame\nmight sit down thereon without fear of the damp. He stood close by,\nheaving a sigh.\n\nShe looked up at him, and felt compassion on that shy little figure,\nand she inquired of him if he was not tired standing there upright\non his young legs. He did not answer, but slid gently down at her\nside. She was desirous of resting him, and she drew his head on to her\nbare neck, and there it lay so willingly that she would have thought\nit the sin of cruelty itself had she bade him find some other pillow.\n\nAfter a while the attendant came back, saying that he had not been\nable to find the bag.\n\n\"I have found it myself,\" replied the lady, \"for when I dismounted\nfrom my horse, there it was hanging half open on the stirrup. And\nnow\"--this to Ulenspiegel--\"show us the way to Dudzeel, please,\nand tell me your name.\"\n\n\"My patron saint,\" he replied, \"is Monsieur Saint Thylbert, a name\nwhich means fleet of foot towards that which is good; my second name\nis Claes, and my surname Ulenspiegel. But now, if you would deign to\nlook at yourself in my mirror, you would see that in all the land of\nFlanders there is not one flower so dazzling in its beauty as is the\nscented grace of you.\"\n\nThe lady blushed with pleasure, and was not angry with Ulenspiegel.\n\nBut Soetkin and Nele sat at home, weeping together, through all this\nlong absence.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXVIII\n\n\nWhen Ulenspiegel returned from Dudzeel and came to the entrance of\nthe town, he saw Nele standing there leaning with her back against the\ntoll-gate. She was picking the stones out of a bunch of black grapes,\nwhich she munched one by one, and found therefrom, doubtless, much\ndelight and refreshment; nevertheless, she did not allow anything\nof her enjoyment to appear on her countenance. On the contrary, she\nseemed annoyed at something, tearing at the grapes angrily. She looked,\nindeed, so sad and sorrowful, so sweetly unhappy, that Ulenspiegel\nfelt overcome with that pity which is almost love, and coming up to\nher from behind, he printed a kiss on the nape of the girl's neck. But\nall the return she gave him was a great box on the ear.\n\n\"Now I shall not be able to see properly any more,\" he said.\n\nShe burst into tears.\n\n\"O Nele,\" says he, \"are you going to set up fountains at the entrance\nof all the villages?\"\n\n\"Be off with you,\" says she.\n\n\"But I can't go away and leave you crying like this, my little pet.\"\n\n\"I am not your little pet,\" says Nele; \"neither am I crying.\"\n\n\"No, you are not crying, but there is certainly some water coming\nout of your eyes.\"\n\n\"Will you go away?\" She turned on him.\n\n\"No,\" he answered.\n\nAll the time she was holding her pinafore in her small trembling hand,\ntearing at the stuff in little spasms of rage, and wetting it with\nher tears.\n\n\"Nele,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"when is it going to be fine again?\"\n\nAnd he smiled at her very lovingly.\n\n\"Why do you ask me that?\" she said.\n\n\"Because when it is fine there is an end of weeping,\" answered\nUlenspiegel.\n\n\"Go back to your beautiful lady of the brocaded gown,\" she said. \"Your\njokes are good enough for her....\"\n\nThen Ulenspiegel sang:\n\n\n When I see my love crying\n My heart is torn.\n When she smiles 'tis honey,\n Pearls when she weeps.\n Either way I love her.\n And I'll draw a draught of wine,\n Good wine from Louvain,\n And I'll draw a draught of wine,\n When Nele smiles again.\n\n\n\"You villainous man!\" she cried, \"making fun of me again!\"\n\n\"Nele,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"it is true that I am a man. But I am not\na villain. For our family is of noble origin, a family of aldermen,\nand it carries on its shield three pint pots argent on a ground\nbruinbier. But, Nele, tell me now, is it a fact that in Flanders when\na man sows a kiss he always reaps a box on the ear?\"\n\n\"I refuse to speak to you,\" said Nele.\n\n\"Then why open your mouth to tell me so?\"\n\n\"I am angry,\" she said.\n\nUlenspiegel slapped her on the back very lightly with his hand, saying:\n\n\"Kiss a naughty girl and she will cuff you; cuff her, she will\ncry. Come then, sweet, cry upon my shoulder since I have cuffed you!\"\n\nNele turned round. He opened his arms, and she threw herself into them.\n\n\"You won't go away any more down there, will you Tyl?\" she asked him.\n\nBut he did not answer, busy as he was in pressing with his the hand\nthat trembled so pitifully, and in drying with his lips the hot tears\nthat fell from the eyes of Nele, like heavy drops of rain in a storm.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIX\n\n\nThese were the days when the noble city of Ghent refused to pay the\ntax which her son, the Emperor Charles, was demanding of her. The\nfact was it was impossible to pay, for already the city was drained\nof money by the act of Charles himself. But it seemed that the city\nwas guilty of a great crime, and Charles resolved to go himself and\nexact punishment. For to be whipped by her own son is above all things\npainful to a mother.\n\nNow, although he was his enemy, Francis Long-Nose was pleased to offer\nthe Emperor a free passage through the land of France. Charles accepted\nthe offer, and instead of being held as a prisoner, he was feted and\nfeasted in right royal fashion. For this is ever a sovereign bond of\nunion between kings: each to aid the other against their own peoples.\n\nCharles stayed a long time at Valenciennes, and still gave no sign\nof his wrath, so that Mother Ghent began to lay aside her fears,\nbelieving that the Emperor her son was going to forgive her, seeing\nthat she had acted within her rights.\n\nBut at length Charles arrived under the walls of the city with 4000\nhorse, together with the Duke of Alba and the Prince of Orange. The\npoorer townsfolk and the small business men wished to prevent\nthis filial entry into their city, and would have called to arms\n80,000 men of the city and of the country round. But the merchants,\nthe hoogh-poorters, opposed this suggestion, being afraid of the\npredominance of the people. Thus Ghent could easily have cut her son\nto pieces, him and his 4000 horse. But it seemed she loved him too\ndearly, and even the small tradesmen themselves were fast regaining\ntheir trust in him.\n\nCharles also loved the city, but only for the sake of his coffers that\nwere stored with her money, and which he hoped to store up fuller yet.\n\nHaving made himself master of the place, he established military\nposts everywhere, and ordered that they should patrol the city night\nand day. Then, in great state, he pronounced his sentence.\n\nThe chief merchants of the city with cords round their necks\nwere to appear before him as he sat on his throne, and to make\na formal apology. Ghent itself was declared guilty of the most\ncostly crimes--of disloyalty, disregard of treaties, disobedience,\nsedition, conspiracy, and high treason. The Emperor declared that\nall and every privilege--rights, customs, freedoms, and usages--all\nwere to be abolished and annulled; and he stipulated for the future\ntoo, as though he were God himself, that none of his successors on\ncoming to the throne should ever observe any one of these usages\nagain, except only that which was called the Caroline Concession,\nas granted by him to the city.\n\nThe Abbey of St. Bavon he razed to the ground, and in place he erected\na fortress whence he could pierce with bullets and at his ease his\nmother's very heart. Like a good son that is in a hurry for his\ninheritance, he confiscated all the riches of Ghent, its revenues,\nits houses, its artillery and munitions of war. Finding it still\ntoo well guarded, he destroyed also the Red Tower, the Tower of the\nTrou de Crapaud, the Braampoort, the Steenpoort, the Waalpoort, the\nKetelpoort, and many another of its gates, all carved as they were\nand sculptured like jewels in stone.\n\nAnd afterwards, when strangers came to Ghent, they would ask of\none another:\n\n\"Can this indeed be Ghent whose marvels were on the lips of all--this\ncity so desolated and brought low?\"\n\nAnd the people of Ghent would make answer:\n\n\"Charles the Emperor has been to the city. He has ravished her\nsacred zone.\"\n\nAnd so saying they would be filled with anger and with shame. And\nfrom the ruins of the city gates did the Emperor take away the bricks\nwherewith to build his castle.\n\nFor it was his will that Ghent should be utterly impoverished, that\nthereby he might make it impossible for her ever to oppose his proud\ndesigns, either by her labour or her industry or wealth; therefore he\ncondemned her to pay that share of the tax of 400,000 caroluses which\nshe had previously refused him, and in addition 150,000 caroluses down,\nand 6000 more every year in perpetuity. Moreover, in earlier days\nthe city had lent him money upon which he should have paid interest\nat the rate of 150 pounds gross annually. But he made himself remit\nby force the notes of credit, and by paying off his debt in this way\nhe actually enriched himself.\n\nMany and many a time had Ghent cherished him and succoured him, but\nnow he struck her on the breast as it were with a dagger, looking\nfor blood, since it seemed he had not there found milk enough.\n\nLast shame of all, he cast his eye upon the bell that is called\nRoelandt; and the man who had sounded the alarm thereon, bidding all\nthe citizens to defend the rights of their city, him he had bound and\nhung to the clapper of the bell. And he had no pity upon Roelandt, the\nvery tongue of his mother, the tongue whereby she spake to all the land\nof Flanders, Roelandt the proud bell that sings of herself this song:\n\n\n When I ring there is a fire\n When I peal there is a storm\n In the land of Flanders.\n\n\nAnd thinking that his mother had too loud a voice he carried away her\nbell. And the people of the country round would say that Ghent was\ndead, now that her son had wrenched away her tongue with his pincers\nof iron.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXX\n\n\nIn those days, which were days of spring, fresh and clear, when\nall the earth is in love, Soetkin was chatting by the open window,\nand Claes humming a tune, while Ulenspiegel was dressing up the dog\nBibulus Schnouffius in a judge's bonnet. The dog plied his paws as\nthough desirous of passing judgment upon some one, though in reality\nit was simply his way of trying to get rid of his ungainly head-gear.\n\nAll at once, Ulenspiegel shut the window and ran back into the\nroom. Then he jumped upon the chairs and the table, reaching up towards\nthe ceiling with his hands. Soetkin and Claes soon discovered the cause\nof this mad behaviour, for there was a tiny little bird, chirruping\nwith fear, and cowering against a beam in the recess of the ceiling,\nand Ulenspiegel was trying to catch it. He had almost succeeded when\nClaes spoke out briskly and asked him:\n\n\"Why are you jumping about like this?\"\n\n\"To catch the bird,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"and put him in a cage,\nand feed him with seeds, and make him sing for me.\"\n\nMeantime the bird, crying in an agony of terror, flew back into the\nroom, striking its head against the window-pane. Still Ulenspiegel\nwent on trying to catch it, but suddenly the hand of Claes came down\nheavily upon his shoulder.\n\n\"Catch the bird if you can,\" said he, \"put it in a cage, make it sing\nfor your pleasure; but I also will put you in a cage that is fastened\nwith strong bars of iron, and I will make you sing too. Then you,\nwho like nothing better than to run about, will be able to do so no\nmore; and you will be kept standing in the shade when you are chilly,\nand in the sun when you are hot. And, one Sunday, we shall all go out\nand forget to give you your food, and we shall not return again till\nThursday, and then maybe we shall find our Tyl all stiff and starved\nto death.\"\n\nSoetkin was crying at this picture, but Ulenspiegel started forward.\n\n\"What are you going to do?\" asked Claes.\n\n\"Open the window for the bird to fly out,\" he answered.\n\nAnd in fact the bird, which was a goldfinch, flew straight out through\nthe window, and with a cry of joy mounted up into the air like an\narrow, and then alighted upon a neighbouring apple-tree, smoothing\nits wings with its beak, ruffling its plumage. And all kinds of abuse\ndid it sing in its bird language, all directed against Ulenspiegel.\n\nThen Claes said:\n\n\"O son of mine, take care that you never take away its liberty\nfrom either man or beast, for liberty is the greatest good in the\nworld. Let every one be free, free to go out into the sun when it is\ncold, and into the shade when it is hot. And let God give judgment\non His Sacred Majesty, he who, not content with denying freedom of\nbelief to the people of Flanders, has now put all the noble city of\nGhent into a cage of slavery.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXI\n\n\nNow Philip was married to Marie of Portugal, and with her he acquired\nher lands for the crown of Spain; and together they had a son, Don\nCarlos, he who was afterwards called \"the mad\" and \"the cruel.\" And\nPhilip had no love for his wife.\n\nThe Queen was lying-in. She kept her bed, and by her side were the\nmaids of honour, the Duchess of Alba among them.\n\nOftentimes did Philip leave his wife to go and see the burning\nof heretics. And all the gentlemen and ladies of the Court did\nlikewise. And thus also did the Duchess of Alba and the other noble\nladies whose duty it was to watch by the Queen in her childbed.\n\nNow at that time the ecclesiastical judges had seized a certain\nsculptor of Flanders, a good Roman Catholic, on the following charge:\nHe had been commissioned, it seems, by a certain monk to carve a wooden\nstatue of Our Lady for a certain sum, and on the monk refusing to pay\nthe price which had been agreed between them, the sculptor had slashed\nat the face of the image with his chisel, saying that he would rather\ndestroy his work than let it go at the price of a piece of dirt.\n\nHe was straightway denounced by the monk as an iconoclast, tortured\nmost piteously and condemned to be burnt alive. During the torture\nthey had scalded the soles of his feet, so that he cried out as he\npassed along from the prison to the stake: \"Cut my feet off! For\nGod's sake cut my feet off!\"\n\nAnd Philip, hearing these cries from afar, was glad, though smiled\nhe never a smile.\n\nQueen Marie's dames of honour all left her, wishing to be present at\nthe burning, and the last of all to desert her was the said Duchess\nof Alba, who, hearing the cries of the sculptor, could not forbear\nto witness the spectacle.\n\nSo, in the presence of King Philip and of his lords, princes, counts,\nequerries, and ladies, the sculptor was bound to the stake by a\nlong chain. And all round the stake was a circle of flaming bundles\nof straw and fiery torches, the idea being that if he wished, the\nsculptor could be roasted very gently by keeping close to the stake\nin the centre of the circle, thus avoiding the full rigour of the fire.\n\nAnd right curiously did they watch him, naked or almost naked as he\nwas, and trying to stiffen his resolution against the heat of the fire.\n\nMeanwhile Queen Marie was stricken with a great thirst, lying there\nalone on her bed of childbirth. And seeing the half of a melon on\na plate, she dragged herself out of bed, and took hold of the melon\nand ate it all. But thereafter the cold substance of the melon made\nher to sweat and to shiver, and she lay upon the floor unable to move.\n\n\"Alas!\" she cried, \"would that there were some one to carry me back\ninto bed that I might get warm again!\"\n\nThen it was that she heard the cry of the poor sculptor:\n\n\"Cut off my feet! Cut off my feet!\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said the Queen, \"is that some dog or other baying at my death?\"\n\nIt was at this very moment that the sculptor, seeing around him none\nbut the faces of Spaniards, his enemies, bethought him of Flanders,\nthe land of valorous men, and he crossed his arms on his breast,\nand dragging the long chain behind him, walked straight towards\nthe outer circle of the straw and the flaming torches. And standing\nupright there, still with his arms crossed:\n\n\"This,\" cried he, \"this is how the men of Flanders can die in the\nface of the tyrants of Spain. Cut off their feet--not mine--that\nthey may be able no more to run into the way of crime. Flanders for\never! Flanders for ever!\"\n\nAnd the ladies clapped their hands, crying him mercy for the sake of\nhis proud look.\n\nAnd he died.\n\nAnd Queen Marie shook all over her body, and she cried out, her teeth\nchattering together with the chill of approaching death. And her arms\nand legs grew stiff, and she said:\n\n\"Put me back into my bed that I may be warmed.\"\n\nSo she died.\n\nAnd thus it was, according to the prophecy of Katheline the good\nsorceress, that Philip the King sowed everywhere he went the seeds\nof death, and blood, and tears.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXII\n\n\nBut Ulenspiegel and Nele loved each other, and their love was true.\n\nIt was now the end of April. All the trees were in bloom, and every\nplant was swollen with sap, for May was near, the month of the peacock,\nflowered like a bouquet, the month that sends the nightingales singing\naloud in the trees of all the earth.\n\nOftentimes would Nele and Ulenspiegel wander together along the\nroads. Nele would lean on the arm of Ulenspiegel, and hang round him\nwith her two hands. Ulenspiegel loved this little game, and often\ndid he pass his arm about Nele's waist, to hold her the better,\nas he said. And she was happy, but spake not a word.\n\nSoftly along the roads blew the wind, wafting the scent from the\nfields; the sea boomed in the distance, rocking lazily in the sun;\nUlenspiegel seemed like some youthful devil, all pride; and Nele like\na little saint from Paradise, half shy of her happiness.\n\nShe leant her head against Ulenspiegel's shoulder, and her hand was in\nhis, and as they passed along he kissed her forehead, and her cheek,\nand her sweet lips. But still she spake no word.\n\nAfter some hours they grew hot and thirsty, and they drank milk at\nthe house of a peasant; and yet they were not refreshed. Then they\nsat them down on the grass by the side of the ditch, and Nele seemed\npale and pensive, and Ulenspiegel looked at her, afraid that something\nwas amiss.\n\n\"You are unhappy?\" said she.\n\n\"Yes,\" he admitted.\n\n\"But why?\" she asked him.\n\n\"I know not,\" said he. \"But these apple-trees and cherry-trees\nall in flower, this air so warm that one would say it was charged\nwith lightning, these daisies that open their blushing petals to\nthe fields, and oh, the hawthorn, there, close by us in the hedge,\nall white.... Will no one tell me why it is that I feel troubled,\nand always ready to die or to go to sleep? And my heart beats so\nstrangely when I hear the birds awaken in the trees, and when I see\nthe swallows coming home! Then I am fain to go away beyond the sun and\nbeyond the moon. And sometimes I am cold, and then again I am hot. Ah,\nNele! would that I were no longer a creature of this low world! Verily\nI would give my life a thousand times to her that would love me!\"\n\nYet Nele spake not at all, but smiling at her ease sat looking at\nUlenspiegel.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXIII\n\n\nOne Day of All Souls, Ulenspiegel went forth from Notre Dame with\ncertain other vagabonds of his own age. Among them was Lamme Goedzak,\nwho seemed strayed among them like a lamb in the midst of a herd of\nwolves. Lamme treated them with drinks all round, for his mother, as\nher custom was on Sundays and feast days, had given him three patards.\n\nSo he went with his companions to the tavern In dem Rooden Schildt--at\nthe sign of the Red Shield. Jan van Liebeke kept the house, and he\nserved them with dobbel knollaert from Courtrai.\n\nThey began to be warmed with the drink, and the talk turned on the\nsubject of prayer, and Ulenspiegel declared quite openly that, for\nhis part, he thought that Masses for the dead did nobody any good,\nexcept the priests who said them.\n\nNow in that company there was a Judas, who went and denounced\nUlenspiegel for a heretic. And in spite of the tears of Soetkin, and\nthe entreaties of Claes, Ulenspiegel was seized and taken prisoner. He\nremained shut up in a cellar for the space of a month and three days\nwithout seeing a soul. The jailor himself consumed three-quarters of\nthe ration that was given him for food.\n\nDuring all this time the authorities were informing themselves as\nto Ulenspiegel's reputation--whether it was good or whether it was\nbad. They found that there was not much to be said against him except\nthat he was a lively sort of customer, always railing against his\nneighbours. But they could not find that he had ever spoken evil of\nOur Lord God, or of Madame the Virgin, nor yet of the Saints. On this\naccount the sentence passed on him was a light one, for he might easily\nhave been condemned to have his face branded with a hot iron and to\nbe flogged till the blood flowed. But in consideration of his youth,\nthe judges merely sentenced him to walk in his shirt behind the priests\nbarefoot and hatless, and holding a candle in his hand. And this he\nwas to do on the Feast of the Ascension, in the first procession that\nleft the church.\n\nSo it was done, and when the procession was on the point of turning\nback, Ulenspiegel was made to stop beneath the porch of Notre Dame,\nand there cry out aloud:\n\n\"Thanks be to our Lord Jesus! Thanks be to the reverend priests! Sweet\nare their prayers unto the souls in purgatory; nay, they are filled\nwith every virtue of refreshment! For each Ave is even as a bucket\nof water poured upon the backs of those who are being punished,\nand every Pater is a tubful!\"\n\nAnd the people heard him with great devotion, and not without a smile.\n\nOn Whit-Sunday the same proceeding had to be gone through, and\nUlenspiegel followed again in the procession with nothing on but his\nshirt, and with his head bare, and no shoes on his feet, and holding\na candle in his hand. On returning to the church he stood up in the\nporch, holding the candle most reverently in his hand, and then in\na high, clear voice (yet not without sundry waggish grimaces) spake\nas follows:\n\n\"If the prayers of all good Christians are very comforting to the souls\nin purgatory, how much more so must be those of the Dean of Notre Dame,\na holy man and perfect in the performance of every virtue. Verily,\nhis prayers assuage the flames of fire in such wise that they are\ntransformed all of a sudden into ice. But yet be sure that not an\natom of it goes to refresh the devils that are in hell.\"\n\nAnd again the people hearkened to what he said with great\ndevotion. But some of them smiled, and the Dean smiled too, in his\ngrim ecclesiastical way.\n\nAfter that, Ulenspiegel was condemned to banishment from the land of\nFlanders for the space of three years, on condition that he went to\nRome on pilgrimage and brought back with him the papal absolution. For\nthis sentence Claes had to pay three florins: but he gave an extra\nflorin to his son, and bought him a pilgrim's habit.\n\nUlenspiegel was heart-broken when he came to say good-bye to Claes\nand Soetkin on the day of his departure. He embraced them both, and\nhis mother was all in tears; but she accompanied him far on his way,\nand Claes went too, and many of the townsmen and townswomen.\n\nWhen they were home again Claes said to his wife:\n\n\"Good wife, it is very hard that such a boy should be condemned to\nthis cruel punishment and all for a few silly words.\"\n\n\"Why, you are crying, my man!\" said Soetkin. \"Truly, you love him more\nthan you like to show. Yes, you are sobbing now with a man's sobs,\nsobs that are like unto the tears of a lion.\"\n\nBut he answered her not.\n\nAs for Nele, she had gone to hide herself in the barn, so that none\nmight see that she also wept for Ulenspiegel. But she followed afar\nafter Soetkin and Claes and the other townsfolk: and when she saw\nher lover disappearing in the distance, she ran after him and threw\nherself on his neck.\n\n\"In Italy you will meet many beautiful ladies,\" she said.\n\n\"I do not know about their being beautiful,\" he replied, \"but fresh\nlike thee--no. For they are all parched with the sun.\"\n\nThey walked a long way side by side, and Ulenspiegel seemed thoughtful,\nmuttering from time to time:\n\n\"I'll make 'em pay--I'll make 'em pay for their Masses for the dead!\"\n\n\"What Masses are those you speak of?\" Nele inquired. \"And who is to\npay for them?\"\n\nUlenspiegel answered:\n\n\"All the deans, cures, clerks, beadles and the rest, both superior\nand inferior, who feed us with their trash. See now, if I had happened\nto be a strong working man they would have robbed me of the value of\nthree years' labour by making me thus to go on this pilgrimage. But as\nthings are, it is the poor Claes who pays. Ah, but they shall give me\nback my three years a hundredfold, and with their own money I myself\nwill sing for them their Masses for the dead!\"\n\n\"Alas, Tyl!\" said Nele, \"be prudent, or they will have you burnt\nalive.\"\n\n\"I am fireproof,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd they parted from one another, she all in tears, he heart-broken\nand angry.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXIV\n\n\nOnce in the open country, Ulenspiegel shook himself like a dog, or\nlike a bird that has regained its liberty, and his heart was cheered\nby the trees and fields and the bright sunshine.\n\nWhen he had walked on thus for three days he came to the outskirts of\nBrussels, and to the wealthy township of Uccle. And there, passing in\nfront of the inn with the sign of the Trumpet, his attention was drawn\nto a most heavenly odour of fricassee. A little urchin who stood by\nwas also sniffing the delightful perfume of the sauce, and Ulenspiegel\nasked him in whose honour it was that there rose to heaven such odour\nof festal incense. The boy made answer that the Guild of the Jolly\nFace was to meet at the inn that evening after vespers, to celebrate\nthe deliverance of the town by the women and girls of olden time.\n\nNow in the distance Ulenspiegel saw a high pole with a popinjay on\nthe top of it, and the pole was set in the ground, and round it were\na company of women armed with bows and arrows. He asked the boy if\nwomen were become archers nowadays?\n\nThe boy, still sniffing greedily the savour of the sauces, replied that\nin the days of the Good Duke the very bows that were now being used\nby those women had been the means of killing over a hundred brigands.\n\nUlenspiegel desired to know further concerning this matter, but the\nboy said that he could tell no more, so hungry was he, unless forsooth\nUlenspiegel would give him a patard with which he might buy food and\ndrink. This Ulenspiegel did, for he felt sorry for him.\n\nNo sooner had the boy received the patard than he rushed into the\ntavern like a fox to the hen-house, and presently reappeared in\ntriumph with half a sausage and a large loaf of bread.\n\nAnd now Ulenspiegel was suddenly aware of a sweet sound of viols\nand tabors, and soon he saw a number of women dancing together, and\namong them a woman of great beauty with a chain of gold hanging round\nher neck.\n\nThe boy, who had by this time assuaged his hunger and was grinning\nwith delight, informed Ulenspiegel that the beautiful woman was the\nQueen of Archery, that her name was Mietje, and that she was wife to\nMessire Renonckel, alderman of the parish. Then he asked Ulenspiegel\nto give him six liards for a drink. Ulenspiegel gave him the money,\nand when he had thus eaten and drunk his fill the urchin sat himself\ndown in the sun and fell to picking his teeth with his nails.\n\nWhen the women archers noticed Ulenspiegel standing there in his\npilgrim's habit, they came and began to dance round him in a ring,\ncrying:\n\n\"Hail pilgrim, hail! Do you come from far away, you handsome pilgrim\nboy?\"\n\nUlenspiegel, thinking sadly of Nele, thus made answer:\n\n\"I come from Flanders, a lovely land and filled with lovesome girls.\"\n\n\"What crime have you committed?\" asked the women, stopping in their\ndance.\n\n\"I dare not confess it, so great it was,\" said he.\n\nThey asked him the reason why it was needful for him to journey thus\nwith a pilgrim's staff and wallet, and those scalloped oysters that\nare the sign of the pilgrim.\n\n\"The reason is,\" he replied, not quite truthfully, \"that I said that\nMasses for the dead are advantageous to the priests.\"\n\n\"True, they bring many a sounding denier to the priests,\" they\nanswered; \"but are they not also of advantage to the souls in\npurgatory!\"\n\n\"I have never been there,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Will you come dine with us?\" said the prettiest of the archers.\n\n\"Willingly would I dine with you,\" said he, \"and dine off you into\nthe bargain! You and all your companions in turn, for you are morsels\nfit for a king, more delicate to swallow than any ortolan or thrush\nor snipe!\"\n\n\"Nay,\" they answered, \"but we are not for sale.\"\n\n\"Then perhaps you will give?\" he asked them.\n\n\"Yea, verily,\" they laughed, \"a good box on the ear to such as are too\nbold. And if needs were we would beat you now like a bundle of corn!\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" he said, \"I will go without the beating.\"\n\n\"Well then,\" they said, \"come in to dinner.\"\n\nSo he followed them into the inn yard, glad for their fresh young\nfaces. And thereafter he saw the Brethren of the Jolly Face themselves,\nwho were now entering the yard with great ceremony, and by their\nown jolly appearance living up most conspicuously to the name of\ntheir Guild.\n\nThey scrutinized Ulenspiegel with some curiosity, till one of the women\ninformed them who he was--a pilgrim they had picked up on the road,\nand whom, being a good red-face like unto their husbands and their\nsweethearts, they had invited to share in the entertainment. The men\nwere agreeable to this proposal, and one of them addressed himself\nto Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Pilgrim on pilgrimage, what say you now to continuing your pilgrimage\nacross some sauce and fricassee?\"\n\n\"I shall have need of my seven-league boots,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nNow as he was following them into the festal hall, he noticed twelve\nblind men coming along the Paris road. And as they passed they were\nlamenting most piteously their hunger and thirst. But Ulenspiegel\nsaid to himself that they should dine that night like kings, and all\nat the expense of the Dean of Uccle himself, and in memory of the\nMasses for the dead.\n\nHe accosted them, saying:\n\n\"Here are nine florins for you. Come in to dinner. Do you not smell\nthe good smell of fricassee?\"\n\n\"Ah!\" they cried, \"for the last half-league, and without hope!\"\n\n\"Now you can eat your fill,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"for you have nine\nflorins.\"\n\nBut he had not really given them anything.\n\n\"The Lord bless you,\" they said. For being blind, each man believed his\nneighbour had been given the money. And shown the way by Ulenspiegel,\nthey all sat down at a small table while the Brethren of the Jolly\nFace took their seats at a long one, together with their wives and\ntheir daughters.\n\nThen, with the complete assurance that comes from the possession of\nnine florins:\n\n\"Mine host,\" cried the blind men insolently, \"give us now to eat and\nto drink of your best.\"\n\nThe landlord, who had heard tell of the nine florins and thought that\nthey were safe in the blind men's purse, asked them what they would\nlike for their dinner.\n\nThen they all began to talk at once at the top of their voices:\n\n\"Bacon and peas, hotchpotch of beef and veal, chicken and lamb! And\nwhere are the sausages--were they made for the dogs, pray? And who\nis he that has smelt out the black and white puddings in the passage\nwithout collaring them for us? I used to be able to see them, alas,\nin the days when my poor eyes were bright as candles! And where is the\nbuttered koekebakken of Anderlecht? Sizzling in the frying-pan, juicy\nand crackling, enough to make a fish thirsty for drink! Ho there! But\nwho will bring me eggs and ham, or ham and eggs, twin friends of my\npalate? And where are you, you choesels, that float in a heavenly mess\nof meats and kidneys, coxcombs, sweetbreads, ox-tails, lamb's feet,\nwith many onions, pepper, cloves, nutmegs, all in a stew, and three\npints at least of best white wine for sauce? And who will bring you\nto me divine, chitterlings, you that are so good that one does not\nutter a word while you are being swallowed! And they come straight\nfrom Luyleckerland, a land bursting with fatness and filled with happy\nlazy folk, whose passion for good things to eat is never assuaged! And\nwhere are you, dried leaves of autumns past? Now quick there! Bring\nme a leg of mutton with broad beans. And for me, some pig's ears\ngrilled with bread-crumbs. And for me, a chaplet of ortolans. Verily\nthe snipe shall figure the Paters, and a fat capon the Credo.\"\n\nMine host answered quietly:\n\n\"I will bring you an omelette made with sixty eggs. And as sign-posts\nto guide your spoons, I will plant fifty black puddings in the midst,\nall smoking on a veritable mountain of good cheer; and from the top of\nall some dobbel peterman shall flow down like a river on every side.\"\n\nAt this the mouths of the poor blind men began to water indeed,\nand they said:\n\n\"Then serve us, pray, and that right quickly with the mountain,\nthe sign-posts, and the river!\"\n\nAnd the Brethren of the Jolly Face, who were now all seated at table\nwith their wives, remarked to Ulenspiegel that this should be called\nthe Day of the Invisible Feast; for that the blind men could not see\nwhat they were eating, and thus, poor things, were deprived of half\ntheir pleasure.\n\nAt last it came--the omelette all garnished with cress and parsley,\ncarried by mine host himself and four of his cooks--and the blind men\ndesired to fall to incontinently, and at once began to set their paws\nupon it. But mine host was determined to serve each of them fairly,\nand, however difficult it might be, to make sure that each trencher\nhad its just portion.\n\nThe women archers were filled with pity to see the blind men gobbling\nand sighing with joy at what was set before them. For in truth they\nwere half starved, and they swallowed down the puddings as though they\nhad been oysters. And the dobbel peterman flowed into their stomachs\nas if it had been a cataract falling down from some lofty mountain.\n\nWhen at length they had cleared their trenchers, they demanded yet\nfurther supplies of koekebakken, ortolans, and fricassees. Mine host,\nhowever, only provided a great platter of beef and veal and mutton\nbones, all swimming in a most goodly sauce. But he did not divide it\nproperly. So that when they had well dipped their bread in the sauce,\nand eke their hands right up to the elbows, yet drew not out anything\nbut bones of cutlet of veal or mutton, each man fell straightway\nto imagining that his neighbour had got hold of all the meat, and\nthey began to fight among themselves, hitting out most furiously one\nagainst another with the bones.\n\nThe Brethren of the Jolly Face laughed heartily at this, but being\ncharitably disposed, each put a portion of his own dinner into the\nblind men's platter. So now if one of the blind went searching for a\nnew bone with which to carry on the fight, he would put his hand belike\nupon a thrush or chicken or a lark or two; and all the time the women,\nholding their heads well backwards, kept pouring into the mouths\nof the blind long draughts of Brussels wine, and when they reached\nout with their hands to feel, as blind men will, whence came these\nrivulets of ambrosia, they would catch oftentimes at a woman's skirt,\nand try to hold it fast. But quickly the skirt would make its escape.\n\nThus they laughed and drank, ate and sang, enjoying themselves\nhugely. Some of them, when they found that women were present, ran\nthrough the hall all maddened with amorous desire. But the malicious\ngirls kept out of their way, hiding behind the Brethren of the Jolly\nFace. And one of them would say: \"Come, kiss me!\" And when the blind\nvictim tried to do so he would find himself kissing not a girl at\nall but the bearded face of a man, who would reward him with a cuff\non the cheek as like as not.\n\nAnd the Brethren of the Jolly Face began to sing, and the blind men\nsang also, and the merry women smiled with fond delight to see their\npleasure. But when the juicy hours were past, it was the turn of the\ninnkeeper, who came forward, saying:\n\n\"Now you have eaten your fill, my friends, and drunk your fill. You\nowe me seven florins.\"\n\nBut each of the blind men swore that he had no purse, and asserted\nthat it was one of the others who carried it. Thereat arose a further\ndispute, and they began to hit out at one another with feet and hands\nand heads; but they mostly missed their mark, striking out at random,\nwhile the Brethren of the Jolly Face, entering into the fun, took\ncare to keep them apart, so that their blows rained down upon the\nempty air--all save one, which happened unfortunately to strike the\nface of the innkeeper, who straightway fell into a rage and ransacked\nall their pockets. But he found there nothing but an old scapular,\nseven liards, three breeches-buttons, and a few rosaries.\n\nAt last he threatened to throw the whole lot of them into the\npig-trough, and leave them there with nothing but bread and water to\neat till they paid what they owed.\n\n\"Let me go surety for them,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Certainly,\" answered the innkeeper, \"if some one will also go surety\nfor you.\"\n\nThis the Brethren of the Jolly Face at once offered to do, but\nUlenspiegel refused them.\n\n\"No,\" he said, \"the Dean of Uccle shall be my surety. I will go and\nfind him.\"\n\nTo be sure it was those Masses for the dead that he was thinking\nof. And when he had found the Dean he told him a story of how the\ninnkeeper of the Trumpet Inn was possessed by the Devil, and how he\ncould talk of nothing but \"pigs\" and \"blind men\"--something or other\nabout pigs eating the blind, and the blind eating the pigs under\nvarious infamous forms of roast meats and fricassees. While these\nattacks were on, the innkeeper, so Ulenspiegel affirmed, would break\nup all the furniture in the inn; and he begged the Dean to come and\ndeliver the poor man from the wicked devil that possessed him.\n\nThe Dean promised to do so, but he said he could not come at the moment\n(for he was busy with the accounts of the Chapter, trying to make\nsomething out of them for himself). Seeing that the Dean was growing\nimpatient, Ulenspiegel said that he would return and bring with him\nthe innkeeper's wife in order that the Dean might speak to her himself.\n\n\"Very well,\" said the Dean.\n\nSo Ulenspiegel came again to the innkeeper and said to him:\n\n\"I have just seen the Dean, and he is willing to go surety for the\nblind men. Do you keep watch over them, and let your wife come with\nme, and the Dean will repeat to her what I have just told you.\"\n\n\"Go, wife,\" said the innkeeper.\n\nSo the innkeeper's wife went with Ulenspiegel to the Dean, who was\nstill at his accounts and busy with the same problem. When, therefore,\nhe saw Ulenspiegel and the woman, he made an impatient gesture that\nthey should withdraw, saying at the same time:\n\n\"It is all right. I will come to the help of your husband in a day\nor two.\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel went back to the inn and said to himself:\n\n\"Seven florins shall he pay; seven florins. And that shall be the\nfirst of my Masses for the dead!\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel departed from that place, and the blind men likewise.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXV\n\n\nNow in those days Katheline had effected a cure, by means of herbs,\non three sheep, an ox, and a pig, all belonging to a certain man\nnamed Speelman. She also attempted to cure a cow, the property of one\nJan Beloen, but in this she was not successful. Jan Beloen promptly\naccused her of being a witch, asserting that she had laid a charm\non the animal, inasmuch as all the time she was giving the herbs\nshe had caressed it and talked to it, in the Devil's own language,\nas was evident--for what business has an honest Christian woman to\ngo talking with an animal...?\n\nJan Beloen added that he was a neighbour of Speelman's, the man whose\nox had been cured, together with three sheep and a pig as aforesaid,\nand if Katheline had now killed his cow, it was doubtless at the\ninstigation of Speelman, who was jealous at seeing his, Beloen's,\nland better and more profitably cultivated than his own. Pieter\nMeulmeester, a man of good life and reputation, and Jan Beloen himself\nboth testified that Katheline was commonly reputed to be a witch by\nthe people of Damme, and that she had certainly killed the cow; and\non this testimony Katheline was arrested and condemned to be tortured\nuntil she had confessed her crimes and malpractices.\n\nShe was cross-examined by a certain alderman who was notorious for\nhis ill-temper, for he was accustomed to drink brandy all the day\nlong. And he ordered her to be placed on the seat of torture in the\npresence of himself and the members of the Town Council.\n\nThe torturer put her on the seat stark naked, and then shaved off her\nhair, looking carefully to see that no charm was concealed anywhere\nabout her person. Finding none, he bound her with cords to the seat\nof torture. And she said:\n\n\"It shames me to be naked before these men. O Mother Mary, let me die!\"\n\nThe torturer then wrapped some damp cloths round her breast and body\nand legs, and raising the bench upright he proceeded to pour great\nquantities of hot water down her throat so that her stomach became\nall swollen. Then he let the bench down again.\n\nThe alderman asked Katheline if she would now acknowledge her\ncrime. She made a sign in the negative. And the torturer poured more\nhot water into her; but this Katheline brought all up again.\n\nThen by the advice of the doctor she was released. But she did not\nspeak a word, only beat her breast as much as to say that the hot\nwater had burned her. When the torturer saw that she was recovered\nfrom this first ordeal, he said to her:\n\n\"Confess that you are a witch, and that you laid a charm on the cow.\"\n\n\"I will confess no such thing,\" replied Katheline. \"I am here in your\npower. Nevertheless, I tell you that an animal can die of an illness,\njust as a man can, and in spite of all the help of surgeons and of\ndoctors. And I swear by Our Lord Christ who was pleased to die upon\nthe Cross for our sins, that I wished to do no harm to this cow,\nbut simply to cure her by well-known remedies.\"\n\nThereat the alderman was angry and cried out:\n\n\"This devil's drab, she cannot go on lying for ever! Put her to the\nsecond torture.\"\n\nThen he drank a large glass of brandy.\n\nThe torturer meanwhile sat Katheline down on the lid of an oak coffin\nwhich was placed on trestles. Now the coffin-lid was pointed like a\nroof, and the edge of it was as sharp as a sword. A great fire was\nburning in the fireplace, for it was the month of November. Katheline,\nseated on the edge of the coffin-lid, had her feet shod in shoes of\nnew leather several sizes too small for her, and then she was placed\nin front of the fire. When she began to feel the sharp wood of the\ncoffin-lid cutting into her flesh, and when her shoes began to shrink\nunder the heat of the fire, Katheline cried aloud:\n\n\"Oh, agony! Will no one give me a draught of black poison?\"\n\n\"Put her nearer the fire,\" said the alderman.\n\nThen he inquired of her:\n\n\"How often, pray, have you ridden on a broom to the Witches'\nSabbath? And how many times have you caused the corn to wither in\nthe ear, and the fruit on the tree, and the babe in the womb of\nits mother? And turned most loving brothers into sworn enemies,\nand sisters into rivals full of hatred?\"\n\nKatheline would have answered if she had been able. But she could\nonly move her arms, as if to say \"No.\" But the alderman said:\n\n\"I see she will not speak till she has felt her witch's fat all\nmelting in the fire. Put her nearer.\"\n\nKatheline cried out. But the alderman said:\n\n\"You had better ask Satan, your friend, to refresh you.\"\n\nAnd now her shoes were beginning to smoke in the heat of the fire,\nso that she made a gesture as if to try and take them off.\n\n\"Ask Satan to help you,\" said the alderman.\n\nTen o'clock struck. It was the madman's dinner hour. And he retired\nwith the torturer and the clerk of the court, leaving Katheline alone\nin front of the fire in the place of torture.\n\nAn hour later they returned. Katheline was still sitting there stiff\nand motionless. The clerk said:\n\n\"I think she is dead.\"\n\nThe alderman commanded the torturer to remove Katheline from the\ncoffin-lid, and to take off the shoes from her feet. This he could\nnot do, so that he was forced to cut them, and Katheline's feet were\nexposed to view, all red and bleeding. The alderman, whose thoughts\nwere still with his dinner, gazed at her without a word. But after\na while she came to her senses, and fell upon the ground, nor was\nshe able to get up again in spite of many attempts. Then she said to\nthe alderman:\n\n\"Once you desired me for your wife. But now you shall have none of\nme! Four times three is the sacred number, and my husband is the\nthirteenth.\"\n\nThe alderman was going to answer her, but she forestalled him:\n\n\"Be silent. His hearing is more delicate than that of the archangel\nin heaven who counts the heart-beats of the just. Why are you so\nlate? Four times three is the sacred number. He killeth those who\nhold me in desire.\"\n\nThe alderman said:\n\n\"It seems she welcomes the devil to her bed!\"\n\n\"The pains of the torture have turned her brain,\" said the clerk.\n\nSo Katheline was taken back into prison. And three days later there\nwas a meeting of the aldermen in the Council Hall; and after some\ndeliberation Katheline was condemned to suffer the ordeal by fire.\n\nShe was taken to the grand market of Damme by the torturer and his\nassistants. There she was made to mount the scaffold. In the square\nwere assembled the provost, the herald, and the judges. The herald\nsounded his trumpet thrice, then turned towards the crowd and made\nthe following announcement:\n\n\"The Council of Damme,\" he cried, \"having taken pity upon the woman\nKatheline, have decreed that punishment shall not be exacted to the\nfull extremity of the rigour of our laws. Nevertheless, in witness\nthat she is a sorceress, her hair shall be burned, she shall pay\na fine of twenty carolus d'or, and she shall be banished from the\nterritory of Damme for the space of three years, under penalty of\nlosing one of her limbs.\"\n\nAnd at this rough gentleness the people broke into applause.\n\nThen the torturer tied Katheline to the stake, placed on her shorn\nscalp a wig of tow, and held it in the fire. And the tow burned for\na long time, and Katheline cried aloud and wept.\n\nThen they released her, and she was put in a cart and taken away\noutside the territory of Damme. She could not walk at all, because\nof her feet that were burned.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXVI\n\n\nUlenspiegel, meanwhile, had arrived in his wanderings at the\nfish-market at Liege. There he descried a tall young fellow carrying\nunder his arm a net filled with all sorts of poultry, and another net\nalso which he was rapidly filling with haddock, trout, eels, and pike.\n\nUlenspiegel recognized him as none other than his old friend Lamme\nGoedzak.\n\n\"What are you doing here, Lamme?\" he said.\n\n\"You must know,\" Lamme answered, \"that many people have lately\nemigrated from Flanders to this gentle land of Liege. As for me,\nI follow my loves. And you?\"\n\n\"I am on the look-out for a master to serve for my daily bread,\"\nsaid Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Bread is a dry sort of nourishment,\" said Lamme. \"You would do better\nto try a chaplet of ortolans with a thrush for the Credo.\"\n\n\"You have plenty of money?\" Ulenspiegel inquired.\n\nLamme Goedzak made answer:\n\n\"I have lost my father and mother, and that young sister of mine that\nused to beat me so. I shall inherit all their property, and now I am\nliving with a one-eyed servant who is very learned in the noble art\nof making fricassees.\"\n\n\"Would you like me to carry your fish and your poultry for\nyou?\" suggested Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Lamme.\n\nAnd together they began to wander through the market. All at once\nLamme said to his companion:\n\n\"You are mad. Do you know why?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Because you go carrying fish and poultry in your hand instead of in\nyour stomach.\"\n\n\"You are right, Lamme,\" said Ulenspiegel; \"but since I have lacked\nbread, ortolans will not even look at me.\"\n\n\"You shall eat your fill of them,\" said Lamme, \"and serve me too,\nif my cook takes a fancy to you.\"\n\nWhile they were walking along, Lamme pointed out to Ulenspiegel a\nbeautiful young girl, who was walking through the market. She wore a\nsilk dress and gazed at Lamme with sweet and gentle eyes. An old man,\nher father, walked just behind, carrying two nets, one filled with\nfish, the other with game.\n\n\"See that girl?\" said Lamme, pointing at her. \"I am going to marry\nher.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Ulenspiegel, \"I know her. She is a Flemish maid from\nZotteghem. She lives in the rue Vinave-d'Isle, and the neighbours say\nthat she lets her mother sweep the road in front of the house in her\nstead, while her own father irons her underclothing.\"\n\nTo this Lamme made no answer, but exclaimed delightedly:\n\n\"She looked at me just now!\"\n\nBy this time they were come to Lamme's lodging, near the\nPont-des-Arches. They knocked at the door, and a one-eyed servant\nopened to them. Ulenspiegel saw that she was old, scraggy, lank,\nand fierce of aspect.\n\nLamme addressed her as La Sanginne, and inquired if she would take\nUlenspiegel to help in the kitchen.\n\n\"I will give him a trial,\" she said.\n\n\"Then take him,\" said Lamme, \"and let him also make trial of the\ndelights of your kitchen.\"\n\nLa Sanginne put three black puddings on the table, a pint of ale,\nand a large loaf of bread. Ulenspiegel set to with a will, and Lamme\nbegan to nibble at one of the puddings.\n\n\"Know you,\" Lamme asked presently, \"where it is that our souls abide?\"\n\n\"No, Lamme,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"In our stomachs,\" Lamme told him, \"so they can keep them excavated\ncontinually, and for ever renew in our bodies the impulse for\nlife. And who are the best companions for a man? I'll tell you. The\nbest companions for a man are all good and jolly things to eat,\nand wine from the Meuse to crown all!\"\n\n\"True,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"A pudding is good company to a solitary\nsoul.\"\n\n\"He's still hungry,\" said Lamme to La Sanginne. \"Give him some\nmore.\" And the woman served him with a second portion of pudding--white\nthis time.\n\nWhile Ulenspiegel went on eating, Lamme grew thoughtful.\n\n\"When I die,\" said he, \"my stomach will die with me, and down there\nin purgatory they will leave me to fast, and I shall have to carry\nmy poor belly about with me, all empty and limp.\"\n\n\"I like the black ones best,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"You have eaten six already,\" said La Sanginne, \"and you won't have\nany more.\"\n\n\"You may be sure,\" said Lamme, \"that you will be well treated here,\nand you will have just the same to eat as I do.\"\n\n\"I shall remember this promise of yours,\" said Ulenspiegel. But\nseeing that what his friend had told him was the truth, Ulenspiegel\nwas well content, and the puddings that he had swallowed gave him\nsuch courage that on that very day he polished the kettles and the\npots and the pans till they shone like the sun. And he lived happily\nin that house, frequenting willingly the kitchen and the wine-cellar,\nand leaving the loft to the cats.\n\nOne day La Sanginne had two poulets to roast, and she asked Ulenspiegel\nto turn the spit while she went to market for some herbs for a\nseasoning. The two poulets being well roasted, Ulenspiegel took\none of them and ate it. When La Sanginne returned from the market\nshe remarked:\n\n\"There were two poulets, but now I can only see one.\"\n\n\"Just open your other eye,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"and you will see\nthe two of them all right!\"\n\nBut she was angry, and went to Lamme Goedzak to tell him what had\nhappened. Lamme came down into the kitchen and said to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Why do you make fun of my serving-maid? There were certainly two\npoulets.\"\n\n\"There were,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"but when I came you told me that I\nwas to eat and drink just as much as you. There were two poulets. Very\nwell. I have eaten one, and you will eat the other. My pleasure is\nover. Yours is still to come. Are you not happier than I?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Lamme smiling, \"but just you do what La Sanginne tells you,\nand you'll find your work halved.\"\n\n\"I will be careful to do as you say,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nSo every time that La Sanginne told him to do anything he did but\nthe half of it. If she asked him to go and draw two pails of water\nhe would only bring back one; and if she told him to go and fill a\npot of ale at the cask, he would pour the half of it down his throat\non the way--and so on and so on.\n\nAt last La Sanginne grew tired of these goings on, and she told Lamme\nthat either this good-for-nothing fellow must leave the house or she\nmust leave herself.\n\nLamme descended on Ulenspiegel and told him:\n\n\"You'll have to go, my son, notwithstanding that you have looked so\nmuch better in health since you have been here. Listen to that cock\ncrowing. And it's two o'clock of the afternoon! That means rain. I am\nsorry to have to put you out of doors in bad weather. But there, my\nson, you know that La Sanginne is the guardian angel of my life, with\nher lovely fricassees. If she were to leave me I might die a speedy\ndeath. I cannot risk it. Go then, my boy, and God be with you, and here\nare three florins and this string of saveloys to liven your journey.\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel departed, crestfallen and with many regrets for Lamme\nand his kitchen.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXVII\n\n\nThere was a rumour abroad that the Emperor Charles was going to annul\nthe right of the monks to inherit the estates of those who happened to\ndie in their convents, a thing which was very displeasing to the Pope.\n\nOne day when Ulenspiegel was come to fish from the banks of the\nriver Meuse, he was thinking to himself that by the above action the\nEmperor would stand to profit both ways, since he would inherit the\nsaid estates, while the family of the deceased would inherit nothing\nat all. Pondering these thoughts, he carefully baited his hook, and\nthen sat down by the river-side. And he began to nibble at a piece of\nstale brown bread, regretting the while that he had no good Romagna\nwine wherewith to wash it down. Still, he thought, one cannot always\nhave everything just as one would like. And all the time he kept on\nthrowing little pieces of his bread into the water, saying to himself\nthat no man deserves a meal who will not share it with his neighbours.\n\nNow it was that a gudgeon came upon the scene, attracted in the first\nplace by the odour of bread-crumbs; and he licked up the bread with his\nlips and opened his mouth for more, thinking no doubt in his innocence\nthat the bread would fall into his gullet of itself. But while gazing\nthus in the air the gudgeon was suddenly swallowed up by a treacherous\npike who had hurled himself upon him like a flash of lightning.\n\nNow the pike played a similar trick upon a carp who was catching flies\non the top of the water without any fear of danger. And after this\ngood meal the pike stayed motionless below the surface of the water,\ndisdainful of the smaller fry, who, indeed, were only too glad to swim\naway from him of their own accord and as fast as ever they could. But\nwhile the pike was taking his ease in this manner, a second pike came\nup; and he was a hungry pike, and his mouth was open wide, for as yet\nhe had not breakfasted. With a bound the new arrival threw himself\nupon his brother, and a furious combat ensued. They lashed at one\nanother with their fins, the water was red with their blood. The pike\nthat had eaten defended himself but feebly against the assaults of the\nhungry one; nevertheless, backing a little, he took courage again and\nthrew himself like a bullet against his adversary. The latter awaited\nthis new attack with open jaws, which did not close until more than\nhalf of his assailant's head had disappeared between them. Now they\ntried to free themselves, but could not because of the hooked teeth\nof the one that had become embedded in the flesh of the other. And\nso they battled against each other in despair. Nor did they notice,\ninterlocked as they were, the strong fish-hook at the end of a silken\ncord, which rose towards them from the depths of the water. In another\nmoment it had embedded itself in the body of the pike that had dined,\nand the two struggling fish found themselves drawn out of the water\nand laid together on the grass without the least deference.\n\nAs he killed them Ulenspiegel said:\n\n\"Ha ha, my little pikes, I will call you the Pope and the Emperor,\nthat prey ever one upon the other; but I, forsooth, am the Common\nMan that shall catch you on his hook, in God's good time, and make\nan end of your battles!\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXVIII\n\n\nIn the meantime Nele was taking care of Katheline, who was still\nout of her mind and who called continually upon Hanske, her ice-cold\nlover. But sometimes Nele would leave her mother safely guarded in the\nhouse of some kindly neighbour, and herself would wander far and wide\nand all alone, even unto Antwerp, searching ever, among the ships on\nthe river, or along the dusty roads, for Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd at home, also, in the house of Claes, it was evil days. Claes\nworked sadly on his land alone, for there was not enough work for\ntwo. And Soetkin stayed in the cottage by herself, cooking the beans\nwhich formed their daily fare in a hundred different ways, so that\nshe might have something to enliven her husband's appetite. And she\nsang and laughed all the time, so that he might not be grieved by\nseeing her unhappy.\n\nOne day a man on horseback drew up in front of the cottage. He was\ndressed all in black, he was very thin, and very sad of countenance.\n\n\"Is any one within?\" he asked.\n\n\"God bless your sadness,\" answered Soetkin, \"but am I a phantom,\nthat seeing me here you must yet inquire if there is any one within?\"\n\n\"Where is your father?\" asked the horseman.\n\n\"If my father's name is Claes, he is over there,\" Soetkin told\nhim. \"You will find him sowing corn.\"\n\nThe horseman departed in the direction in which she had pointed,\nand Soetkin also went her way ruefully, for this was the sixth time\nthat she had had to go to the baker's to buy bread with no money to\npay for it.\n\nOn returning empty-handed to the cottage, Soetkin was amazed to see\nClaes coming down the road triumphantly seated on the horse of the man\nin black. He looked very proud of himself, and the man in black walked\nby his side holding the horse's bridle. Hanging at his side, Claes\nheld a leathern bag which appeared to be full of things. Dismounting\nfrom the horse, Claes embraced his companion, gave him a playful pat\nupon the back, and then, shaking the bag, cried out in a loud voice:\n\n\"Long life to Josse, my brother, the good hermit of Meyborg! May\nGod keep him in joy and fatness, in happiness and health! Our Josse,\npatron of plenty, and of all abundance, and rich soups!\"\n\nAnd so saying he took up the sack and deposited it upon the table. But\nSoetkin said sadly:\n\n\"My good man, we shall not eat this day. The baker has refused to\ngive me any bread.\"\n\n\"Bread?\" cried Claes, opening the sack and letting a river of golden\ncoins roll out on the table. \"Bread? Here is bread and butter, meat,\nwine, beer! Here are hams, marrow-bones, pasties, ortolans, fatted\npoulets, castrelins, all just as you might find them in the houses of\nthe rich! Bread indeed! Here are casks of beer and kegs of wine! Mad\nmust be the baker who will refuse to give us bread. Verily we will\ndeal at his shop no more!\"\n\n\"But, my good man!\" said Soetkin amazed.\n\n\"Nay, listen,\" said Claes, \"and make the most of your good fortune. For\nthese are the facts. Katheline, it seems, has lately been to Meyborg\nin Germany, and Nele with her, on a visit to my eldest brother Josse,\nwho dwells there as a hermit. Nele told my brother how that we were\nliving in poverty, notwithstanding that we work so hard. And now,\nif we are to believe this good messenger\"--and here Claes pointed\nto the black horseman--\"Josse has left the holy Roman religion and\nabandoned himself to the heresy of Luther.\"\n\nThe man in black made answer:\n\n\"It is they that are heretics, they who follow the cult of the Scarlet\nWoman. For the Pope is a cheat and a trader in holy things.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" cried Soetkin, \"speak not so loud, sir. You will have us burned\nalive, all three.\"\n\n\"Well,\" continued Claes, \"it appears that Josse has made known to this\ngood messenger that inasmuch as he is going to fight in the army of\nFrederic of Saxony, and is bringing him fifty armed men fully equipped,\nhe has no need of much money to leave it to the hands of some wretch\nof a landsknecht, now that he himself is going to the war. Therefore,\nsays he, take it to my brother Claes, and render to him, with my\nblessing, these seven hundred florins. Tell him to live virtuously,\nand to ponder the salvation of his soul.\"\n\n\"Yea, verily,\" said the horseman, \"now is the time. For God will\nreward every man according to his works, and every man according to\nhis merit.\"\n\n\"Good sir,\" said Claes, \"it is not forbidden, I trust, to rejoice\nin the meantime at this good news? Deign, then, to stay with us,\nand we will celebrate our fortune with a nice dinner of tripe,\nwell boiled, and a knuckle of that ham which I saw just now at the\npork-butcher's. Of a truth, it looked so plump and tasty that my\nteeth almost shot out of my mouth to close thereon.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said the stranger, \"the foolish make merry while the eye of\nthe Lord is yet upon them.\"\n\n\"Come now, messenger,\" said Claes, \"will you eat and drink with us\nor will you not?\"\n\nThe man answered: \"It will be time enough for the faithful to think\nabout such earthly joys when mighty Babylon has fallen.\"\n\nSeeing Claes and Soetkin cross themselves, he made as though to leave\nthem. But Claes said to him:\n\n\"Since you persist in leaving us without accepting of our hospitality,\nwill you at least give to my brother the kiss of peace on my behalf,\nand look after him well at the wars.\"\n\n\"That will I,\" said the man.\n\nAnd he departed from them, while Soetkin went to make her preparations\nfor celebrating their good fortune.\n\nNow it was quickly noised abroad through the town that Claes that was\nonce so poor had now become rich through the generosity of his brother\nJosse. And the Dean of Damme was heard to say that it was Katheline no\ndoubt who had laid a charm on Josse, and he said this because Claes,\nalthough he had received a large sum of money from his brother,\nhad given not so much as a single vestment to Notre Dame. But Claes\nand Soetkin were happy again, Claes working in the fields or looking\nafter his business of charcoal-burning, while Soetkin attended to her\nhome right valiantly. Yet still was she sorrowful at heart, scanning\never with her eyes the open road if perchance she might see her son\nUlenspiegel returning back to her. And thus it was these three lived\non and experienced the happiness which comes from God while waiting\nfor that which was going to come to them from men.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXIX\n\n\nThe Emperor Charles had received a letter from England, from Philip,\nwho was now married to the Queen of that country.\n\n\n \"Sir and Father,\" the letter ran,--\"It is matter of sore\n displeasure to me that I should have to live in a country like\n this where the accursed heretics swarm like fleas and worms and\n locusts. Fire and sword are needed to remove them from the trunk\n of that tree of life which is our Holy Mother the Church. And,\n as if this were not trouble enough, I have also to put up with\n being regarded not as a King but merely as the husband of the\n Queen; for in very truth apart from her I am destitute of all\n authority. And the English make mock of me, spreading broadcast\n the most shameful pamphlets which assert that I am being bribed\n by the Pope to afflict their country with every kind of impious\n burning and persecution. Nor can I discover who it is that writes\n these pamphlets, nor yet who prints them. And when I try to raise\n from the people some necessary contribution (for in their malice\n and wickedness they often leave me without any money at all),\n they answer by advising me, in coarse lampoons, to ask of Satan\n in whose pay I am. Parliament makes excuses for fear of my sting,\n but I can get nothing out of them. And meanwhile the walls of\n London are covered with the grossest pictures representing me\n as a parricide who is ready to strike down your Majesty for the\n sake of my inheritance. But well you know, my Lord and Father,\n that notwithstanding all the hopes of a legitimate ambition,\n I most certainly desire that your Majesty may enjoy yet long and\n glorious years of rule. Furthermore, there are circulating through\n the city certain engravings on copper which show me torturing\n animals and laughing the while. But well you know, Sire, that if\n ever it has happened to me to taste this profane pleasure, I have\n surely never laughed thereat. But they try to make out that this\n innocent sport is a sort of crime, despite the fact that animals\n have no souls, and although it is assuredly permitted to all men,\n especially if they be of Royal birth, to make use of brute beasts\n even unto death for purposes of honest recreation. But in this\n land of England the people are so fond of animals that they treat\n their animals better than their own servants. The stables and\n dog-kennels are kept like palaces, and I have known great lords\n who pass the night on the same litter with their horse. To crown\n all, my noble Wife and Queen is barren, and these people have the\n outrageous effrontery to declare that I am to blame and not she,\n who is in other respects a most jealous and intractable woman,\n and amorous to excess. Sir and Father, I pray daily that the Lord\n God may have me in his grace, and I live in hopes that another\n throne may be given me, even though it be with the Turk, what\n time I still await that other glorious throne to which I shall\n be one day called by the honour of being the son of your very\n Glorious and Victorious Majesty.\n\n\n (Signed) Phle.\"\n\n\nTo this letter the Emperor made reply in the following terms:\n\n\n \"Sir and Son,--You have bitter enemies, I do not dispute it; but\n you must try to endure them without vexation in anticipation of\n the yet more brilliant crown that shall be yours hereafter. I have\n already made it widely known that I am determined to retire from\n my lordship over the Low Countries and other of my dominions,\n for I am growing old and gouty, and I know that I shall not\n long be able to withstand King Henry the Second of France, for\n Fortune ever favours the young. You should remember also that\n so long as you are master of England, you will be as a thorn in\n the side of our enemy France. Truly I suffered a nasty defeat at\n Metz, and lost there near forty thousand men. I was compelled\n to retreat before the King of Saxony. If God does not soon see\n fit by a stroke of His good and divine will to re-establish me\n in the force and vigour of my prime, I am inclined, Sir and Son,\n to quit my kingdoms altogether and to leave them to you.\n\n \"Have patience therefore, and do your duty meanwhile against the\n heretics, sparing none of them, man, woman, girl, or child, for\n I am credibly informed that Madame your Queen has been minded to\n treat them mercifully, and this is a great grief to me.\n\n\n \"Your affectionate father,\n\n \"(Signed) Charles.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXX\n\n\nUlenspiegel had been long upon the road. His feet were bleeding,\nbut in the district of the bishopric of Mayence he met a wagon full\nof pilgrims who invited him to join them, and they carried him with\nthem to Rome.\n\nWhen they arrived at the city Ulenspiegel got down from the wagon,\nand straightway noticed a charming-looking woman standing at the door\nof an inn. She smiled when she saw him looking at her.\n\nTaking this kindly humour of hers for a good omen:\n\n\"Hostess,\" says he, \"will you give asile, pray, to a poor pilgrim on\npilgrimage who has carried his full time and is about to be delivered\nof his sins?\"\n\n\"We give asile to all such as pay us for it,\" said the woman.\n\nI have a hundred ducats in my purse,\" said Ulenspiegel (who, in fact,\nhad no more than one), \"and I would dearly like to spend the first\nof them in your pleasant company and over a bottle of old Roman wine.\"\n\n\"Wine is not dear in these holy parts,\" she answered. \"Come in and\ndrink your fill. It will only cost you a soldo.\"\n\nAnd they twain drank together for so long, and emptied so many bottles\nof wine and all to the tune of such pleasant conversation, that the\nhostess was constrained to order her servant to serve the customers in\nher place, while she and Ulenspiegel retired into a room at the back of\nthe inn, a marble chamber, cool as a winter's day, where, leaning her\nhead on her new friend's shoulder, she demanded of him who he might be.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel answered her:\n\n\"I am Lord of Geeland, Count of Gavergeeten, Baron of Tuchtendeel. I\nwas born at Damme, in Flanders, and I hold there for my estate five\nand twenty acres of moonlight.\"\n\n\"What land is that whence you come?\" the hostess asked him, drinking\nfrom Ulenspiegel's tankard.\n\n\"It is a misty land,\" he told her, \"a land of illusion, where are sown\nthe seeds of false hopes and of castles in the air. But you, sweet\nhostess mine, were born in no such land of moonlight, you with your\namber skin and your eyes that shine like pearls. For bright is the\nsunshine that has coloured that browned gold of your hair, and it is\nLady Venus herself who, without a single pang of jealousy, has formed\nyour soft shoulders, and your prancing breasts, your rounded arms,\nyour delicate sweet hands. Say, shall we sup together this night?\"\n\n\"Fine pilgrim that you are from Flanders,\" says she, \"say, why are\nyou come hither?\"\n\n\"To have a talk with the Pope,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Heavens!\" she cried, clasping her hands together, \"and that is\nsomething that even myself, a native of the country, have never been\nable to do!\"\n\n\"Yet shall I,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"But know you where the Pope lives, what he is like, what are his\nhabits and his ways of life?\"\n\n\"I heard all about him on the way,\" answered Ulenspiegel. \"His name\nis Julius III. Wanton he is, and gay and dissolute, a good talker,\nthat never falters for a clever repartee. I have also heard that\nhe has taken an extraordinary fancy to a little dirty beggar of a\nman--a dark fellow and a rude who used to wander about with a monkey\nasking for alms. He came to the Pope, and the Pope, it seems, has\nmade a Cardinal of him, and now gets quite ill if a single day passes\nwithout their meeting.\"\n\n\"Have some more to drink,\" said the landlady, \"and do not speak\nso loud.\"\n\n\"I have also heard,\" continued Ulenspiegel, \"that one day he swore\nlike a soldier, Al dispetto di Dio, potta di Dio, and all because they\ndid not bring him the cold peacock that he had ordered to be kept for\nhis supper. And he excused himself, saying, 'If my Master was angered\nover an apple, I, who am the vicar of God, can certainly swear an\noath about a pheasant!' You see, my pet, I know the Pope very well,\nand understand just what sort of a man he is!\"\n\n\"Oh dear,\" she said, \"pray be careful and do not tell this to any\none else. But still, and in spite of all you tell me, I maintain that\nyou will not get to see him.\"\n\n\"I shall,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"I will wager you a hundred florins.\"\n\n\"They are mine!\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nThe very next day, tired as he was, he ran through all the city and\nfound out that the Pope was to say Mass that morning at the Church of\nSt. John Lateran. Thither Ulenspiegel repaired, and took up a position\nas prominently in the Pope's view as he could. And every time that\nthe Pope elevated chalice or Host, Ulenspiegel turned his back to the\naltar. Now one of the cardinals was officiating with the Pope, swarthy\nof countenance he was, malicious and corpulent; and on his shoulder\nhe carried a monkey. He reported Ulenspiegel's behaviour to the Pope,\nwho straightway after Mass sent four terrible-looking soldiers (such\nas one finds in those warlike lands) to seize the pilgrim.\n\n\"What religion do you profess?\" the Pope asked him.\n\n\"Most Holy Father,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"my religion is the same\nas my landlady's.\"\n\nThe Pope had the woman fetched.\n\n\"What is your religion?\" he asked her.\n\n\"The same as your Holiness's,\" she told him.\n\n\"That also is mine,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nThe Pope asked him why he turned his back upon the Holy Sacrament.\n\n\"I felt myself unworthy to look upon it face to face,\" he answered.\n\n\"You are a pilgrim?\" said the Pope.\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"and I am come from Flanders to beg\nremission of my sins.\"\n\nThe Pope absolved and blessed him, and Ulenspiegel departed in the\ncompany of his landlady, who paid over to him his hundred florins. And\nwith this good store of money he departed from Rome and set out to\nreturn again to the land of Flanders.\n\nBut he had to pay seven ducats for the certificate of his pardon,\nall scribed upon parchment.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXI\n\n\nIn those days there came to Damme two brothers of the Premonstratensian\nOrder, sellers of indulgences. And over their monastic robes they\nwore beautiful jackets bordered with lace.\n\nWhen it was fine they stood outside the porch of the church, and under\nthe porch when it was wet, and there they stuck up their tariff;\nand this was the scale of charges: for six liards a hundred years'\nindulgence, for one patard two hundred years, three hundred years\nfor half a sovereign, four hundred years for seven florins, and\nso on according to the price--indulgences plenary or semi-plenary,\nand pardons for all the most terrible crimes.\n\nAnd they gave to their patrons, in exchange for payment, little\nparchment certificates on which were written out the number of years\nof indulgence, and below was the following inscription:\n\n\n Who wants not to be\n Stewed, roasted, fricasseed,\n Burning in hell for evermore,\n Indulgences let him buy.\n Pardon and forgiveness,\n For a little money,\n God will return to him.\n\n\nAnd the eager purchasers came thronging round the monks. One of whom\nnever left off addressing his audience. This brother had a blooming\ncountenance, and displayed three chins at least, and a portentous\nbelly, all without the least embarrassment.\n\n\"Unhappy ones!\" he cried, fixing with his eye now one, now another\nof the crowd. \"Unhappy ones! Let me show you a picture. Behold! You\nare in hell! The fire burns you most cruelly. You are boiling in\nthat cauldron full of oil wherein are prepared the olie-koekjes of\nAstarte. You are nothing better than a sausage on the frying-pan\nof Lucifer, or a leg of mutton on the spit of Guilguiroth, biggest\nof all the devils. And first they cut you up in little pieces. Ah,\nwoe is me! Behold this sinner who despised indulgences! Behold this\nplate of daintiness! 'Tis he! 'Tis he! His wicked body thus reduced\nby damnation. And for sauce, brimstone and pitch and tar! Thus are\nthose poor sinners eaten alive to be born again continually to their\npain! And here in all reality is the place of tears and of grinding\nof teeth. Have mercy, God of mercy! For now, poor damned one, you are\nin hell, and you suffer unspeakable woes. And yet if any there were\nto subscribe a denier for you, straightway one of your hands would\nfind relief; and let but some other give a half a denier and your two\nhands would be freed entirely from the pain of the fire. But as for\nthe remainder of your body, let some one only give a florin, and there\nfalls the dew of indulgence over all! O freshness of delight! And now\nfor ten days, a hundred days, a thousand years maybe, according as one\npays, no more roast meat, no more olie-koekjes, no more fricassees\nfor you! And even if it is not for yourself, is there no one else,\nthere in the secret depths of the fire, no one else for whom you\nwould wish to gain relief--one of your parents perhaps, a dear wife,\nor some lovely girl with whom you have committed wilful sin?\"\n\nAnd as he spoke these words, the monk jogged the elbow of his brother\nthat stood by holding in his hands a silver bowl. And that brother,\nlowering his eyes at this signal, shook the bowl unctuously, as if\ninviting contributions.\n\nWhereat the preacher continued in this wise: \"Or perhaps you have\na son or a daughter, maybe, in the midst of this terrible fire,\nor some beloved little child? Hark, how they cry aloud, and weep,\nand call to you by name. Can you remain deaf to their pitiful\nvoices? You cannot. Even a heart of ice must melt, though it cost\nyou a carolus! And behold, at the very sound of the carolus as it\nstrikes this vile metal\" (and here his comrade shook the plate again),\n\"a space opens out in the midst of the fire, and the tormented soul\nascends to some volcano mouth where it meets the air, the fresh,\nfree air! Where are the pains of the fire now? For the sea is close\nat hand, and straight into the sea the soul plunges. She swims on her\nback, on her stomach, floats upon the waves, dives beneath them. Oh,\nlisten how she sings aloud in her joy! See how she rolls about in\nthe water! The very angels gaze down upon her from heaven and are\nglad. Eagerly they await her coming; but not yet, not yet has she\nhad her fill of the sea. If she might only turn into a fish! She\nknoweth not how there are prepared for her up aloft sweet baths,\nperfumed and scented, with fine bits of sugar-candy floating therein,\nall white and fresh like bits of ice. Now a shark appears. She\nfears it not at all, but clambers upon its back, and sits there all\nunnoticed, hoping he will take her with him down into the depths of\nthe sea. And now she goes to greet the little water-angels that feed\non waterzoey from coral cauldrons, and on freshest oysters from plates\nof mother-of-pearl. And she is welcomed and feted and made much of,\nbut still the angels in heaven beckon her on high, till at last,\nrefreshed and happy, you may see her rise aloft, singing like a lark,\nup to the highest heaven where God sits in glory on his throne. There\nshe finds again all her earthly friends and loved ones (save only\nthose, forsooth, that in this life have spoken ill of indulgences\nand of our Holy Mother Church and who burn now for their sin upon the\nfloor of hell. And so for ever and for ever and for ever to all ages,\nin an all-consuming eternity). But that other soul, now dear to God,\nrefreshes herself in soft baths and crunches sugar-candy. Buy then, my\nbrothers, buy your indulgences. We sell them for crusats, for florins,\nor for English sovereigns. Even copper coin is not refused. Buy then,\nbuy! This is the Holy Mart! And we have indulgences adapted to the\npoor man's purse as well as to the rich man's. Only, I am sorry to\nsay, my brothers, no credit is allowed. For to buy without paying\ncash is a crime most grievous in the eyes of Our Lord.\"\n\nHereupon the monk who had kept silent shook his platter, and the\nflorins, crusats, patards, sols, and deniers fell into it as thick\nas hail.\n\nClaes, feeling himself rich, paid a florin for an indulgence of ten\nthousand years; and the monks delivered to him a piece of parchment\nin exchange.\n\nAt last, seeing that there was no one left in Damme but the miserly\nfolk who would not buy indulgences at any price, the two monks left\nthe village and proceeded on their way to Heyst.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXII\n\n\nIn those days the country round Liege was in a disturbed and dangerous\nstate by reason of the heresy hunts, and Lamme Goedzak came again\nto live in Damme. He was married now, and his wife followed him\nwillingly because the people of Liege, who had a mocking nature,\nused to make fun of her husband's meekness.\n\nLamme often visited Claes, who, since coming into his fortune,\nwas always to be found at the tavern of the Blauwe Torre, and\nhad even appropriated one of the tables for himself and his boon\ncompanions. This table was next to the one where sat the Dean of the\nFishmongers, Josse Grypstuiver by name, drinking sparingly from his\nhalf-pint tankard. For he was a miser, a stingy fellow who thought the\nworld of himself, and lived for the most part on smoked herrings, and\nthought more of money than of the safety of his own soul. Now Claes\ncarried in his pocket that piece of parchment whereon was inscribed\nthe tale of his ten-thousand-year indulgence.\n\nOne evening Claes was drinking at the Blauwe Torre in the company\nof Lamme Goedzak, Jan van Roosebeke, and Matthys van Assche, Josse\nGrypstuiver also being present. Claes had been imbibing freely, and\nJan Roosebeke was remonstrating with him, saying that it was sin to\ndrink so much. But Claes replied that a pint too much meant nothing\nmore serious than an extra half-day in purgatory.\n\n\"Besides,\" said he, \"I have a ten-thousand-year indulgence in my\npocket! Is there any one here that would like a hundred years of\nthem, I wonder, so that he may indulge his stomach without fear of\nthe consequences?\"\n\nEvery one shouted at once:\n\n\"How much are you selling them at?\"\n\n\"For a pint of beer,\" Claes answered, \"I will give you one hundred\ndays, but for a muske conyn you shall have a hundred and fifty!\"\n\nSome of the revellers gave Claes a pint of beer, others a piece of ham,\nand for each and all Claes cut off a little strip of his parchment. It\nwas not Claes, forsooth, who consumed the price of his indulgences,\nbut Lamme Goedzak; and he gorged himself so that he began to swell\nvisibly; and all the time Claes went on distributing his merchandise\nup and down the tavern.\n\nThe man Grypstuiver turned a sour face towards him, and asked if he\nhad an indulgence for ten days.\n\n\"No,\" said Claes, \"that's too small a piece to cut.\"\n\nEvery one laughed, and Grypstuiver ate his anger as best he could. Then\nClaes went home, followed by Lamme, walking as if his legs were made\nof wool.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXIII\n\n\nTowards the end of the third year of her banishment, Katheline returned\nto her home in Damme. And continually she cried aloud in her madness:\n\"Fire, fire! My head is on fire! My soul is knocking, make a hole,\nshe wants to get out!\" And if ever she saw an ox or a sheep she would\nrun from it as if in terror. And she would sit on the bench at the back\nof her cottage, under the lime-trees, wagging her head and staring at\nthe people of Damme as they passed by. But she did not recognize them,\nand they called her \"The mad-woman.\"\n\nMeanwhile Ulenspiegel went wandering along the roads and pathways of\nthe world, and one day he met a donkey on the highway, harnessed with\nleather and studs of brass, and its head ornamented with tassels and\nplumes of scarlet wool....\n\nSome old women were standing round the donkey in a circle, all talking\nat once and telling each other how that no one could tame the donkey\nfor that he was a terrible animal and had belonged to the Baron\nof Raix, who was a magician and had been burned alive for having\nsacrificed eight children to the devil. \"And he ran away so fast,\"\nsaid the old women, \"that none could catch him. And without a doubt\nhe is under the protection of Satan. For a while ago he seemed tired,\nresting by the wayside, and the village constables came to seize\nhim. But he suddenly kicked out with his hind legs and brayed in such\nfearful fashion that they durst not to go near him. And that was no\nbray of an ass, but the bray of the devil himself. So the constables\nleft him to browse among the thistles, and passed no sentence upon\nhim, nor did they burn him alive for a sorcerer as they should have\ndone. Verily these men have no courage.\"\n\nNotwithstanding this brave talk, the donkey had only to prick up his\nears or flick his sides with his tail, to send the women running away\nfrom him with cries of terror. Then back they would come, chattering\nand jabbering, but ever ready to be off again if the donkey showed\nthe least sign of movement. Ulenspiegel could not help laughing at\nthe sight,\n\n\"Ah!\" said he, \"talk and curiosity! They flow like an everlasting river\nfrom the mouths of women--and especially old women, for with the young\nthe flow is less continuous by reason of their amorous occupations.\"\n\nThen, considering the donkey:\n\n\"This sorcerer-beast,\" said he to himself, \"is a sprightly ass without\na doubt, and a good goer. What if I were to take him for my own,\nto ride, or maybe sell him?\"\n\nWithout another word Ulenspiegel went and got a feed of oats, and\nreturning, offered them to the donkey. But while he was eating of those\nviands Ulenspiegel jumped nimbly upon his back, and taking the reins,\nturned him first to the north, then to the east, and lastly to the\nwest. Then, when he had gone from them a little way, he raised his\nhand as if in blessing on those aged dames. But they, almost fainting\nwith fear, fell upon their knees before him. And that evening when\nthey met together again, the tale was told of how an angel with a\nfelt hat trimmed with a pheasant's feather had come and blessed them,\nand had taken off the magician's donkey by special favour of God.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel, astride of his ass, went his way through the green\nfields, where the horse pranced about at liberty, where the cows and\nheifers grazed at their ease or lay resting in the sunshine. And he\ncalled the ass Jef.\n\nAt last Jef came to a stop, and began, as happy as could be, to\nmake his dinner off the thistles which grew in that place in great\nabundance. But anon he shivered all over, and flicked his sides with\nhis tail in the hope of ridding himself of the greedy horse-flies who,\nlike himself, were trying to get their dinner, not off the thistles,\nbut off his own flesh.\n\nUlenspiegel, who himself began to feel the pangs of hunger, grew\nvery melancholy.\n\n\"Happy indeed would you be, friend donkey, with your good dinner of\nfine thistles if there was no one to disturb you in your pleasures,\nand to remind you that you also are mortal, born, that is to say,\nto the endurance of all kinds of villainies.\"\n\nThus did Ulenspiegel address his steed, and thus continued:\n\n\"For even as you have this gadfly of yours to worry you, so also\nhath His Holiness the Pope a gadfly of his own, even master Martin\nLuther; and His Sacred Majesty the Emperor, hath he not my Lord of\nFrance for his tormentor--Francis, first of that name, the King with\nthe very long nose and a sword that is longer still? And forsooth,\ndonkey mine, it is certainly permitted that I also, poor little man\nwandering all alone, may have my gadfly too.\n\n\"Alas! Woe is me! All my pockets have holes in them, and by the said\napertures do all my fine ducats and florins and daelders ramble away,\nflying like a crowd of mice before the mouth of the cat that would\ndevour them. I wonder why it is that money will have nothing to do\nwith me--me that am so fond of money? Verily Fortune is no woman,\nwhatever they may say, for she loves none but greedy misers that shut\nher up in their coffers, tie her up in sacks, close her down under\ntwenty keys and never let her show herself at the window by so much\nas the little tip of her gilded nose! This, then, is the gadfly that\npreys upon me and makes me itch, and tickles me without ever so much\nas raising a laugh. But there, you are not listening to me at all,\nfriend donkey! And you think of nothing but your food. You gobbling\ngobbler, your long ears are deaf to the cry of an empty stomach! But\nyou shall listen to me. I insist!\"\n\nAnd he belaboured the ass as hard as he could, till the brute began\nto bray.\n\n\"Come, come, now that you have given us a song!\" cried Ulenspiegel. But\nthe donkey would not advance by more than a single step, and seemed\ndetermined to go on eating thistles until he had consumed all that\ngrew by the roadside. And of these there was an abundance.\n\nWhen Ulenspiegel saw what was happening he dismounted and cut off a\nbunch of thistles; then, mounting the ass again, he placed the bunch\nof thistles just in front of the animal's nose. And in this way,\nleading the donkey by the nose, he arrived before long in the land\nof the Landgrave of Hesse.\n\n\"Friend donkey,\" he said as they went along, \"you, verily, go running\nafter a bunch of thistles, the meagre fare with which I have provided\nyou; but you leave behind the lovely road that is filled with all\nkinds of most delicate herbs. And thus do all men, scenting out,\nsome of them, the bouquet called Fame which Fortune puts under their\nnose, others the bouquet of Gain, and yet others the bouquet that is\ncalled Love. But at the end of the journey they discover, like you,\nthat they have been pursuing things that are of little account,\nand that they have left behind all that is worth anything--health,\nand work, repose, happiness, and home.\"\n\nIn such discourse with his donkey Ulenspiegel came at last to the\npalace of the Landgrave.\n\nThere two Captains of Artillery were playing dice upon the steps of\nthe palace, and one of them, a red-haired man of gigantic stature,\nsoon noticed Ulenspiegel as he approached modestly upon his ass,\ngazing down upon them and their game.\n\n\"What do you want,\" said the Captain, \"you, fellow, with your starved\npilgrim's face?\"\n\n\"I am extremely hungry,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"and if I am a pilgrim,\nit is against my will.\"\n\n\"And you are hungry,\" replied the Captain, \"go, eat the next gallows\ncord you come to, for such cords are prepared for vagabonds like you.\"\n\n\"Sir Captain,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"only give me the fine golden\ncord you wear on your hat, and I will go straightway and hang myself\nby the teeth from that fat ham which I see hanging over there at\nthe cook-shop.\"\n\nThe Captain asked him where he came from. Ulenspiegel told him,\n\"From Flanders.\"\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\n\"To show His Highness the Landgrave one of my pictures. For I am\na painter.\"\n\n\"If it is a painter that you are,\" said the Captain, \"and from\nFlanders, come in, and I will lead you to my master.\"\n\nWhen he had been brought before the Landgrave, Ulenspiegel saluted\nthrice and again.\n\n\"May your Highness deign,\" said he, \"to excuse my presumption in\ndaring to come and lay before these noble feet a picture I have made\nfor your Highness, wherein I have had the honour to portray Our Lady\nthe Virgin in her royal attire.\"\n\nAnd then after a moment's pause:\n\n\"It may be that my picture may please your Highness,\" he continued,\n\"and in that case I am sufficiently presumptuous to hope that I\nmight aspire even unto this fine chair of velvet, where sat in his\nlifetime the painter that is lately deceased and ever to be regretted\nby your Magnanimity.\"\n\nNow the picture which Ulenspiegel showed him was very beautiful,\nand when the Landgrave had inspected it, he told Ulenspiegel to sit\ndown upon the chair, for that he would certainly make him his Court\nPainter. And the Landgrave kissed him on both cheeks, most joyously,\nand Ulenspiegel sat down on the chair.\n\n\"Of a truth you are a very talkative fellow,\" said the Landgrave,\nlooking him up and down.\n\n\"May it please your Lordship,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"Jef--my\ndonkey--has dined most excellently well on thistles, but as for me\nI have seen nothing but misery these three days past, and have had\nnothing to nourish me but the mists of expectation.\"\n\n\"You shall soon have some better fare than that,\" answered the\nLandgrave. \"But where is this donkey of yours?\"\n\n\"I left him on the Grande Place,\" Ulenspiegel said, \"opposite the\npalace; and I should be most obliged if he could be given lodging\nfor the night--some straw and a little fodder.\"\n\nThe Landgrave immediately gave instructions to one of his pages that\nUlenspiegel's donkey should be treated even as his own.\n\nThe hour for supper soon arrived, and the meal was like a wedding\nfestival. Hot meats smoked in the dishes, wine flowed like water,\nwhile Ulenspiegel and the Landgrave grew both as red as burning\ncoals. Ulenspiegel also became very merry, but His Highness was\nsomewhat pensive even in his cups.\n\n\"Our painter,\" said he suddenly, \"will have to paint our portrait. For\nit is a great satisfaction to a mortal prince to bequeath to his\ndescendants the memory of his countenance.\"\n\n\"Sir Landgrave,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"your will is my\npleasure. Nevertheless, I cannot help feeling sorry at the thought\nthat if your Lordship is painted by himself he will feel lonely,\nperhaps, all there in solitary state through the ages to come. Surely\nhe should be accompanied by his noble wife, Madame the Landgravine,\nby her lords and ladies, and by his captains and most warlike officers\nof State. In the midst of these, my Lord and his Lady will shine like\ntwin suns surrounded by lanterns.\"\n\n\"Well, painter mine, and how much shall I have to pay you for this\nmighty work?\"\n\n\"One hundred florins, either now or later, just as you will.\"\n\n\"Here they are, in advance,\" said the Landgrave.\n\n\"Most compassionate master,\" said Ulenspiegel as he took the money,\n\"you have filled my lamp with oil, and now it shall burn bright in\nyour honour.\"\n\nOn the next day Ulenspiegel asked the Landgrave to let him see those\npersons who were to have the honour of being painted. And first there\ncame before him the Duke of Lueneburg, commander of the infantry of the\nLandgrave. He was a stout man who carried with difficulty his great\npaunch swollen with food. He went up to Ulenspiegel and whispered in\nhis ear:\n\n\"When you paint my portrait see that you take off half my fat at\nleast. Else will I order my soldiers to have you hung.\"\n\nThe Duke passed on. And next there came a noble lady with a hump on\nher back and a bosom as flat as a sword-blade.\n\n\"Sir painter,\" said she, \"unless you remove the hump on my back and\ngive me a couple of others in the place where they should be, verily\nI will have you drawn and quartered as if you were a prisoner.\"\n\nThe lady went away, and now there appeared a young maid of honour,\nfair, fresh, and comely, only that she lacked three teeth under her\nupper lip.\n\n\"Sir painter,\" said she, \"if you do not paint me smiling and showing\nthrough my parted lips a perfect set of teeth, I'll have you chopped\nup into small pieces at the hands of my gallant. There he is, look\nat him.\"\n\nAnd she pointed to that Captain of Artillery who a while ago had been\nplaying dice on the palace steps. And she went her way.\n\nThe procession continued, until at last Ulenspiegel was left alone\nwith the Landgrave.\n\nThe Landgrave said to him:\n\n\"My friend, let me warn you that if your painting has the misfortune\nto be inaccurate or false to all these various physiognomies by so\nmuch as a single feature, I will have your throat cut as if you were\na chicken.\"\n\n\"If I am to have my head cut off,\" thought Ulenspiegel, \"if I am to be\ndrawn and quartered, chopped up into small pieces, and finally hung,\nI should do better to paint no portrait at all. I must consider what\nis best to be done.\"\n\n\"And where is the hall,\" he asked the Landgrave, \"which I am to adorn\nwith all these likenesses!\"\n\n\"Follow me,\" said the Landgrave. And he brought him to a large room\nwith great bare walls.\n\n\"This is the hall,\" he said.\n\n\"I should be very grateful,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"if some curtains could\nbe hung right along the walls, so that my paintings may be protected\nfrom the flies and the dust.\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" said the Landgrave.\n\nWhen the curtains had been hung as directed, Ulenspiegel asked if\nhe might have three apprentices to help him with the mixing of his\ncolours.\n\nThis was done, and for thirty days Ulenspiegel and the apprentices\nspent the whole of their time feasting and carousing together, with\nevery extravagance of meat and drink. And the Landgrave looked on at\nit all. But at last on the thirty-first day he came and thrust his\nnose in at the door of the chamber where Ulenspiegel had begged him\nnot to enter.\n\n\"Well, Tyl,\" he said, \"and where are the portraits?\"\n\n\"They are not finished,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"When shall I be able to see them?\"\n\n\"Not just yet,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nOn the six-and-thirtieth day the Landgrave again thrust his nose\ninside the door.\n\n\"Well, Tyl,\" he inquired, \"how now?\"\n\n\"Ah, Sir Landgrave,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"the portraits are getting on.\"\n\nOn the sixtieth day the Landgrave grew very angry, and coming right\ninto the room:\n\n\"Show me the pictures at once!\" he cried.\n\n\"I will do so,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"but pray have the kindness\nnot to draw the curtain until you have summoned hither the lords and\ncaptains and ladies of your court.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said the Landgrave, and at his command the aforesaid\nnotabilities appeared. Ulenspiegel took up his stand in front of the\ncurtain, which was still carefully drawn.\n\n\"My Lord Landgrave,\" he said, \"and you, Madame the Landgravine,\nand you my Lord of Lueneburg, and you others, fine ladies and valiant\ncaptains, know that behind this curtain have I portrayed to the best\nof my abilities your faces, every one warlike or gentle as the case may\nbe. It will be quite easy for each one of you to recognize himself. And\nthat you are anxious to see yourselves is only natural. But I pray\nyou have patience and suffer me to speak a word or two before the\ncurtain is drawn. Know this, fair ladies and valiant captains; all you\nthat are of noble blood shall behold my paintings and rejoice. But\nif there be among you any that is of low or humble birth, such an\none will see nothing but a blank wall. So there! And now, have the\ngoodness to open wide your noble eyes.\"\n\nAnd so saying, Ulenspiegel drew the curtain.\n\n\"Remember,\" said he again, \"only they of noble birth can see my\npictures, whether they be lords or ladies.\" And again, presently:\n\"He of low birth is blind to my pictures But he who clearly sees,\nthat man is a nobleman without a doubt.\"\n\nAt that every one present opened wide his eyes, pretending--you may\nbe sure--to see, and feigning to recognize the various faces and\npointing themselves out to one another, though in reality they beheld\nnothing at all but a bare wall. And for this they were each and all\nsecretly ashamed.\n\nSuddenly the court jester, who was standing by, jumped three feet in\nthe air and jaggled his bells.\n\n\"Take me for a villain,\" he cried, \"a most villainous villain, but\nI verily will affirm and assert and say with trumpets and fanfares\nthat there I see a wall, a blank, white wall, and nothing but a wall,\nso help me God and his saints!\"\n\nUlenspiegel said:\n\n\"When fools 'gin talking, time for wise men to be walking.\"\n\nAnd he was about to leave the palace when the Landgrave stopped him.\n\n\"Fool in your folly,\" said he, \"you make boast that you go through the\nworld praising what is good and fair and making mock of foolery, and\nyou have dared to make open game of so many and so high-born ladies,\nand of their yet more noble lords, bringing ridicule on the pride\nof their nobility! Of a truth I tell you that the day will come when\nyou will hang for your free speech.\"\n\n\"If the cord is of gold,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"it will break with dread\nat my approach.\"\n\n\"Stay,\" said the Landgrave. \"Here is the first bit of your rope,\"\nand he gave him fifteen florins.\n\n\"All thanks to you,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"and I promise you that every\ntavern on the road shall have a thread of it, a thread of that gold\nwhich makes Croesuses of all those rascally tavern-keepers.\"\n\nAnd off he went on his donkey, holding his head up high in air,\nwith the plume in his cap wagging joyously in the breeze.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXIV\n\n\nNow was the season of yellowing leaves, and the winds of autumn\nwere beginning to blow. Sometimes for an hour or two it seemed that\nKatheline was come into her right mind again, and at such times\nClaes would say that the merciful spirit of God had come to visit\nher. Then it was that she had power to throw a charm upon Nele, by\nsigns and incantations, so that the girl was able to see whatever was\nhappening all over the world, in the public squares of the cities,\nor on the highways, or in the houses themselves.\n\nTo-day Katheline was in one of these moods of right-mindedness, and\nshe was eating olie-koekje with Claes, Soetkin, and Nele. Claes said:\n\n\"This is the day of His Majesty the Emperor's abdication. Nele,\nmy dear, do you think you could see as far as Brussels in Brabant?\"\n\n\"If Katheline wishes me to,\" said Nele.\n\nThereupon Katheline caused her to sit down on a bench, and making\nsundry passes with her hands, she muttered her incantations, which\nsoon sent the girl off into a trance.\n\nThen Katheline said to her:\n\n\"Make your way into the little house which is called the Park House,\nand is the favourite residence of the Emperor Charles the Fifth.\"\n\nWhereupon Nele began to speak, in a low voice, as though she were\nhalf suffocated.\n\n\"I am standing in a small room painted green. There is a man in the\nroom. He is about fifty-four years of age, and he has a bald head and\na protruding chin with a white beard growing upon it. His grey eyes\nhave a wicked, crafty look, filled with cruelty and false kindness. And\nthis is the man they call 'His Most Sacred Majesty.' He suffers from\na catarrh and always keeps coughing. Beside him is another, a young\nman with an ugly face like that of a hydrocephalous monkey. I saw him\nonce at Antwerp. He is King Philip. At the present moment he is being\nrebuked by His Sacred Majesty for having slept out last night away from\nhome. Doubtless, says His Majesty, he was at some brothel in company\nof a trollop of the town. His hair, it seems, smells of the tavern,\nno place, that, for a King to seek his pleasures in, he who may have\nhis choice of all the sweetest bodies in the world, of skin like\nsatin fresh from perfumed baths, and of hands of high-born ladies,\nvery amorous. Such as these, says His Majesty, are more fit for him,\nsurely, than some half-mad wench that is come, scarcely washed, from\nthe arms of a drunken soldier. For there is not one among all the\nladies, the most noble, the most beautiful, whether virgin, wife,\nor widow, that would resist King Philip! And they would be proud to\ngive him of their love--not by a greasy glimmer of stinking tallow,\nbut by the light of scented tapers made of finest wax.\n\n\"The King replies that he will obey His Sacred Majesty in all\nthings. Whereupon His Sacred Majesty has a fit of coughing and\ndrinks some draughts of hippocras. After which he addresses his son,\nsorrowfully, in these words:\n\n\"'You must know, my son, that very soon I am to give to the world the\nmighty spectacle of the abdication of my throne in the favour of you,\nmy son. And I shall speak before a great crowd of people, coughing\nand hiccuping as I am--for all my life I have eaten too heartily. And\nvery hard-hearted must you be if you shed no tears when you hear what\nI shall have to say.\n\n\"'I shall shed many tears,' answers King Philip.\n\n\"And now His Sacred Majesty is speaking to his valet, a man named\nDubois.\n\n\"'Bring me some sugar dipped in Madeira,' he cries. 'I have the\nhiccups. Pray heaven they do not attack me when I am making my\nspeech before all those people. Oh, that goose I had last night\nfor dinner! Will it never pass? I think I had better take a glass\nof Orleans wine? No, it is too harsh. Or perhaps if I ate some\nanchovies? No, they are oily. Dubois, there, give me some Roman wine!'\n\n\"Dubois does as he is told, then dresses his master in a robe of\ncrimson velvet, wraps a golden cloak about him, girds on his sword,\nplaces the globe and sceptre in his hands, and on his head the\ncrown. Thus arrayed, His Sacred Majesty goes forth from the Park\nHouse, riding on a little mule and followed by King Philip and many\nnotables. Presently they arrive at a large building called the Palace,\nand they come to a room wherein is a tall thin man, most richly\ndressed. He is the Prince of Orange, William, surnamed the Silent.\n\n\"'Do I look well, Cousin William?' His Sacred Majesty inquires.\n\n\"But the man makes no answer, till at length His Sacred Majesty speaks\nagain, half mused, half angry.\n\n\"'Still silent, cousin? Still without a word?--even when you have\nthe chance of telling the truth to a grey-beard! Come now, shall I\nabdicate or stay upon my throne, O silent one?'\n\n\"'Most Sacred Majesty,' replies the thin man, 'at the approach of\nwinter even the strongest oaks let fall their leaves.'\n\n\"Three o'clock strikes.\n\n\"'Lend me your shoulder, silent one, that I may lean upon it.'\n\n\"And, so saying, His Most Sacred Majesty leads the way into a great\nroom wherein is a canopy, and under the canopy a dais covered with\na carpet of crimson silk. On the dais are three chairs. His Sacred\nMajesty seats himself on the mid-most one, which is more ornamented\nthan the others and surmounted by the imperial crown. King Philip takes\nthe second chair, and the third is occupied by a woman, who is no doubt\nthe Queen. On either side are long benches covered with tapestry, and\nsitting upon them are men dressed in red robes and wearing round their\nnecks the image of a golden sheep. Behind stand various personages who\nwould seem to be princes and lords. Opposite these, and at the bottom\nof the dais, there is a row of bare benches which are occupied by men\ndressed in plain cloth. I hear it said that these men are clothed and\nseated so modestly because it is themselves that have to pay all the\ncosts. At the entrance of His Sacred Majesty these people all stand\nup, but when he has sat down he makes a sign and they sit also.\n\n\"Now a very aged man is talking of his gout interminably. After which\nthe woman, who seems to be a Queen, presents a roll of parchment to\nHis Majesty. His Sacred Majesty reads what is written thereon in a low\nvoice, coughing all the time, and then he begins to speak for himself.\n\n\"'Many and long are the journeys that I have made through Spain and\nItaly and the Netherlands, through England and through Africa, all for\nGod's glory, for the renown of my arms, and the good of my peoples.'\n\n\"And so on, and so on, till at last he comes to tell of his growing\nweakness and fatigue, and of his determination to relinquish the\ncrown of Spain, together with the counties, duchies, and marquisates\nof all those countries, and of his desire to hand them over to his\nson. Thereafter he begins to weep, and every one weeps with him, and\nKing Philip gets up from his chair and falls upon his knees before\nhis father.\n\n\"'Most Sacred Majesty,' he cries, 'am I indeed to receive this crown\nfrom your hands while yet you are so strong to wear it?'\n\n\"Then His Majesty whispers into his son's ear that he should speak\nsome kindly words to those men who are seated upon the tapestried\nchairs. Whereupon King Philip turns towards them, and without rising\naddresses them in a sharp tone of voice.\n\n\"'I understand French fairly well,' he says, 'but not well enough to\nbe able to talk to any one in that language. But the Bishop of Arras,\nMonsieur Grandvelle, he will say something to you on my behalf.'\n\n\"'That is not the way to speak to them, my son,' says His Sacred\nMajesty.\n\n\"And in truth the whole assembly begins to murmur, seeing the\nyoung King so proud and unbending. The woman, she who is the Queen,\nthen makes an oration, and is followed by an aged professor, who,\non sitting down, receives a wave of the hand from His Sacred Majesty\nby way of thanks. These ceremonies and harangues being finished, His\nSacred Majesty makes a declaration to the effect that his subjects\nare released from their oath of fidelity, signs the deeds drawn up\nto ratify his abdication, and then, rising from his throne, places\nhis son upon it in his stead. Every one in the hall weeps. Then they\nreturn again to the Park House.\n\n\"Once more His Sacred Majesty and his son Philip are alone together in\nthe green chamber. As soon as the doors are shut His Sacred Majesty\ngoes off into a peal of laughter, and begins talking to King Philip,\nwho keeps quite solemn all the time.\n\n\"'Did you notice,' says the Emperor, laughing and hiccuping at the\nsame time, 'how little was needed to move these good people to tears?\nHeavens, how they wept! You would have thought it was the deluge!\nThat fat Maes who made the long speech, why, he cried like a calf!\nEven you appeared to be affected--but not quite sufficiently,\nperhaps. Really there is no doubt that these are the best of all the\nentertainments which one can provide for the populace. For just as we\nnobles are wont to cherish most those mistresses who cost us most,\nso also it is with the people. The more we make them pay the more\nthey love us. That is why I have tolerated the reformed religion\nin Germany while punishing it severely in the Low Countries. If,\nhowever, the German princes had been Catholics I would have made\nmyself a Lutheran so that I might confiscate their property. Verily\nthey all believe in the integrity of my zeal for the Roman faith,\nand when I leave them they are full of regrets. Yet for heresy there\nhave perished at my hands fifty thousand of their bravest men and of\ntheir tenderest maidens, in the Netherlands alone. But still they\ngrieve at my departure. And without making any count of what has\nbeen got from confiscations, I have raised in taxes more than the\nwealth of all the Indies or Peru; yet they are sorry to lose me.\nAnd I have torn up the Peace of Cadzant, brought the city of Ghent\nunder subjection, suppressed every one who might be dangerous to\nme, put down all liberties, freedoms, and privileges, and placed\nthem under the authority of the royal officers; but yet do these\ngood people think they are still free inasmuch as I allow them to\nshoot with the crossbow, and to carry in procession the banners of\ntheir guilds. Willingly do they submit themselves to the hand of\ntheir master, finding happiness in a cage, and singing his praises\nwhile he is with them, and weeping when he departs. My son, be you\nto them even as I have been, kindly in words but harsh in deed. Lick\nthat which you have no need to bite, and never leave off swearing\nto maintain liberties, freedoms, and privileges, however little you\nmay scruple to destroy those liberties if they show signs of becoming\ndangerous. For such things as these are like iron if handled timidly,\nbut brittle as glass if grappled with a strong hand. Therefore you\nshould root out all heresy, not because it differs from the Roman\nreligion, but because, if allowed to flourish, it would mean the end\nof our rule in all the Netherlands. For they that attack the Pope\nwith his three crowns would finish by denying the authority of the\ntemporal princes who wear but one. So, then, you should follow my\nexample, and regard all claims to freedom of conscience as crimes\nof high treason to be punished by immediate confiscation. Hereby\nyou will inherit great riches, as I also have done all my life long;\nand when you come to die or to abdicate, everybody will say, 'Ah me,\nthe good and noble prince!' and many are the tears that will be shed!'\n\n\"And now I hear no more,\" said Nele, \"for His Sacred Majesty has laid\nhim down to sleep. And King Philip, that proud and haughty prince,\nstands gazing at him with loveless eyes.\"\n\nAnd when she had thus spoken, Nele was awakened from her trance by\nKatheline. And Claes gazed thoughtfully into the fire as it flamed\nand lit up all the chimney.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXV\n\n\nIt was the month of April. The weather had been mild, but now there\nwas come a sharp frost and a sky grey and overcast as it were the\nsky of All Souls' Day. The third year of Ulenspiegel's banishment had\nlong since passed, and Nele was waiting day after day for the return\nof her lover.\n\n\"Alas!\" she cried, \"there will be snow on the pear-trees, and snow\nupon the flowering jasmines, and on all the poor plants that have\nbloomed in confidence of the mildness and the warmth of an early\nspring. Already from the sky little snowflakes are falling on the\nroads. And on my poor heart as well the snow is falling.\n\n\"Where, oh where are the bright rays of sunshine that should be playing\nnow on our happy spring-time faces--and upon red roofs that were used\nto grow the redder for that warmth, and on window-panes that flashed\nas they caught that sunny brightness? Where indeed are those flaming\nbeams that kindled earth to life again, and the sky, and the birds,\nand the insects? Alas! For day and night am I chilled by sorrow and\nlong waiting. Oh where, where are you, my lover Ulenspiegel?\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXVI\n\n\nThat Sunday there was held at Bruges the Procession of the Holy\nBlood. Claes told his wife that she and Nele ought to go and see the\nprocession, and that if they did so, it was not impossible they might\nfind Ulenspiegel in the city. As for himself, he would stay behind\nand look after the cottage and be ready to welcome their pilgrim if\nhe should return.\n\nSo the two women went off together. Claes remained at home and sat\nhimself down on the doorstep and gazed into the deserted village\nstreet. All was quiet as the grave, except now and again for the\ncrystal sound of the bell of some village church, or, rising and\nfalling with every little gust of wind from Bruges, the far-off music\nof the carillon and the sound of the guns and fireworks that were\nbeing let off in honour of the Holy Blood. But in spite of all these\nsounds of joy, Claes was filled with sadness, scanning the grey mist\nthat hung over the fields for a sight of his son, and trying to hear\nhis footfall in the jolly rustling of leaves and gay concert of birds\nas they sang among the trees. Suddenly he noticed a man coming down\ntowards him on the road from Maldeghem. It was a man tall of stature,\nbut it was not Ulenspiegel. And presently Claes saw him come to a stand\nbeside a field of carrots, and bend down to eat of the vegetables as\nif he were starving for food.\n\n\"There's a hungry man sure,\" said Claes to himself.\n\nBut after a while the man continued his walk, and passed out of view;\nto reappear a little later at the corner of the rue Heron. Claes\nrecognized him at once as the messenger who had brought the seven\nhundred ducats from his brother Josse. He went to meet him, and\nasked him in.\n\n\"Blessed are they that are kind to the wandering traveller,\" said\nthe man, and readily accepted the proffered invitation.\n\nNow on the window-ledge of the cottage window lay some bread-crumbs\nwhich Soetkin kept ready for the birds of the neighbourhood, who had\nlearnt to come there during the winter for their food. The man took\nthese crumbs and ate them.\n\n\"You must be hungry and thirsty,\" said Claes.\n\n\"Eight days ago was I robbed by thieves,\" the man replied, \"and since\nthen I have had nothing to eat but the carrots I have found in the\nfields and roots in the forest.\"\n\n\"Well then,\" said Claes, \"I am thinking it is time you had a good round\nmeal.\" And so saying he opened the bread-pan. \"Look,\" he continued,\n\"here is a dishful of peas, and here are eggs, puddings, hams,\nsausages from Ghent, waterzoey, a hotchpotch of fish. And down below\nin the cellar there slumbers our good wine from Louvain, made after\nthe manner of Burgundy wine, all clear and red as rubies. Only the\nglasses are wanting now to rouse it from its sleep. And to crown all,\nlet us put a faggot to the fire. Already I can hear the pudding singing\nin the grill! And that's a song of right good cheer, my friend!\"\n\nClaes kept turning the puddings, and as he did so he inquired of the\nstranger whether he had seen his son, Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"No,\" was the answer.\n\n\"Then perhaps you bring me news of my brother?\" Claes said, as he\nplaced the puddings, now well grilled, upon the table, together with\na ham omelette, some cheese, and two big tankards of gleaming Louvain\nwine, both red and white.\n\nThe man said:\n\n\"Your brother Josse has been done to death upon the rack at Sippenaken\nnear to Aix. And all because he was a heretic, and bore arms against\nthe Emperor.\"\n\nClaes was like one mad, and he shook all over, for his wrath was great.\n\n\"Wicked brutes!\" he cried. \"O Josse! My poor Josse!\"\n\nThen the stranger spoke again, but in a voice that held no sweetness.\n\n\"Not in this world, my friend, is to be found just cause either for\njoy or for sorrow.\" And he fell to his food. But after a while he\nspoke again.\n\n\"You must know that I was able to be of some assistance to your brother\nwhile he was in prison, by pretending that I was one of his relatives,\na peasant from Nieswieler. I am now come hither in obedience to his\ncommand that if I was not killed for the Faith like him, I should go\nto you, and charge you in his name to live in the faith and peace of\nour Saviour, practising all works of mercy, and educating your son in\nsecret in the law of Christ. 'That money,' he said, 'which I gave to\nmy brother was money taken from the poor and ignorant. Let Claes make\nuse of it in rearing Tyl in the knowledge of God and of His word.'\"\n\nAnd when he had thus spoken, the messenger gave Claes the kiss of\npeace. And Claes made moan and lamentation, saying:\n\n\"Dead upon the rack! Alas! My poor Josse!\" And his grief was so\ngreat that he could not put it from him. Nevertheless, when he saw\nthat the messenger was consumed with thirst and held out his glass\nfor more wine, Claes poured out again. But he himself ate and drank\nwithout pleasure.\n\nNow Soetkin and Nele remained away for seven days; and all this time\nthe messenger stayed beneath the roof of Claes, and every night they\nheard Katheline howling in her cottage over the way:\n\n\"Fire! Fire! Make a hole! My soul wants to get out!\"\n\nAnd Claes went to her, comforting her with gentle words, and afterwards\nreturned to his own house.\n\nAt the end of the seven days the messenger departed. Claes offered\nhim money, but he would only accept two caroluses with which to feed\nhimself and find lodging on his way back home.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXVII\n\n\nWhen Nele and Soetkin returned from Bruges, they found Claes in the\nkitchen, sitting on the floor like a tailor, sewing buttons on an\nold pair of breeches. Titus Bibulus Schnouffius barked his welcome;\nClaes smiled, and Nele smiled in answer. But Soetkin did not take her\neyes from the road, gazing continually in hopes to see her beloved\nUlenspiegel.\n\nAll of a sudden she broke silence. \"Look,\" she cried, \"here is the\nProvost-Marshal. He is coming along the road with four sergeants of\nthe peace. They cannot be wanting any one from here, surely! And yet\nthere are two of them turning off by the cottage!\"\n\nClaes looked up from his work.\n\n\"And the other two have stopped at the front,\" Soetkin said.\n\nThen Claes got up.\n\n\"Who can they want to arrest in this road?\" his wife continued,\nand then: \"O Christ! They are coming in here.\"\n\n\"Look to the money!\" cried Claes. \"The caroluses are hidden away behind\nthe fireplace.\" And with these words he ran out of the kitchen into\nthe garden. Nele understood what he meant, and saw that he was going\nto try and make his escape over the hedge. But the sergeants seized\nhim by the collar, and now he was hitting out at them in a hopeless\nendeavour to break free.\n\n\"He is innocent!\" Nele cried aloud amid her tears. \"He is innocent! Do\nnot hurt him. It is Claes, my father! O Ulenspiegel, where are\nyou? Where are you? If you were only here you would kill them both!\"\n\nAnd she threw herself on one of the sergeants and tore at his face with\nher nails. Then she cried out again: \"They will kill him!\" and fell\ndown upon the grass in the garden, and rolled there in her despair.\n\nKatheline, hearing the noise, had come out from her cottage, and stood\nup straight and immovable, gazing at the piteous scene. Then she spoke,\nwagging her head:\n\n\"Fire! Fire! Make a hole! My soul wants to get out!\"\n\nSoetkin meanwhile, who had seen nothing of all this, was talking to\nthe sergeants who had entered the cottage.\n\n\"Kind sirs,\" she began, \"what is it that you are looking for in our\npoor dwelling? If it is my son you want, he is far away. Do you feel\nequal to a long journey?\"\n\nAnd she felt quite pleased at the way she was handling the matter. But\nit was at this very moment that Nele began to cry aloud for help,\nand when Soetkin had made her way into the garden, it was to see\nher husband seized by the collar and fighting on the pathway near\nthe hedge.\n\n\"Hit hard and kill them!\" she cried, and then: \"O Ulenspiegel, where\nare you?\"\n\nAnd she was about to go to the assistance of her man when one of\nthe sergeants caught hold of her, not indeed without some danger\nto himself. And Claes was fighting and hitting out so forcibly that\nhe would certainly have escaped had not the two sergeants with whom\nSoetkin had been talking come out to aid their fellows in the nick of\ntime. So at last they were able to tie the hands of Claes together,\nand to carry him back to the kitchen, whither Nele and Soetkin had\nalready come, crying and sobbing.\n\n\"Sir Provost,\" Soetkin said, \"what crime has he committed that you\nare binding my poor husband thus with cords?\"\n\n\"He is a heretic,\" said one of the sergeants.\n\n\"Heretic!\" cried Soetkin, looking towards her husband. \"You a\nheretic! These devils are lying!\"\n\nClaes answered:\n\n\"I resign myself into God's keeping.\"\n\nAnd they took him away. Nele and Soetkin followed behind, in tears,\nbelieving that they also would be summoned before the judge. They\nwere joined by many of their friends and neighbours, but when these\nheard that it was on a charge of heresy that Claes was walking thus in\nchains, fear came upon them and they returned incontinently to their\nhouses, closing their doors behind them. Only a few young girls had\nthe courage to approach Claes and say to him:\n\n\"Whither are you going to, Charcoal-burner, in these bonds!\"\n\n\"I go unto the grace of God, my girls,\" he answered them.\n\nSo they took him away to the town gaol, and Nele and Soetkin sat\nthemselves down upon the threshold. And towards evening Soetkin\nbesought Nele to leave her and to go and see if Ulenspiegel had\nperchance returned.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXVIII\n\n\nThe news spread quickly through the neighbourhood that a man had\nbeen taken prisoner on a charge of heresy, and that the inquisitor\nTitelman, Dean of Renaix, surnamed the Inquisitor without Pity,\nhad been appointed judge. Now at this time Ulenspiegel was living\nat Koolkerke, in the intimate favour of a farmer's widow, a sweet\nand gentle person who refused him nothing of what was hers to give.\nHe was very happy there, petted and made much of, until one day a\ntreacherous rival, an alderman of the village, lay in wait for him\nearly in the morning when he was coming out of the tavern, and would\nhave beaten him with a wooden club. But Ulenspiegel, thinking to cool\nhis rival's anger, threw him into a duck-pond that was full of water,\nand the alderman scrambled out as best he could, green as a toad and\ndripping like a sponge.\n\nAs a result of this mighty deed Ulenspiegel found it convenient to\ndepart from Koolkerke, and off he went to Damme as fast as his legs\nwould carry him, fearing the vengeance of the alderman.\n\nThe night fell cold, and Ulenspiegel ran quickly. For he was longing\nto be home again, and already he saw in imagination Nele sewing by the\nfire, Soetkin getting ready the supper, Claes binding up his sticks,\nand Schnouffius gnawing at a bone.\n\nA tramping pedlar met him on the road and asked him whither he was\noff to so fast and at that time of night.\n\n\"To my home in Damme,\" Ulenspiegel told him.\n\nThe tramp said:\n\n\"That town is no longer safe. They are arresting the Reformers there.\"\nAnd he passed on.\n\nPresently Ulenspiegel arrived at the inn of the Roode Schildt and\nwent in for a glass of dobbel kuyt. The innkeeper said to him:\n\n\"Are you not the son of Claes?\"\n\n\"I am,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Make haste then,\" said the innkeeper, \"for the hour of evil fortune\nhas sounded for your father.\"\n\nUlenspiegel asked him what he meant by these words, and the innkeeper\ntold him that he would know soon enough. So Ulenspiegel left the inn\nand continued on his way, running apace.\n\nWhen he arrived at the outskirts of Damme, the dogs that stood by the\ndoorways came running round his legs, jumping up at him, yelping and\nbarking. Hearing this noise, the women also came out of their houses,\nand when they saw who it was they all began talking at once.\n\n\"Whence come you?\" they cried. \"And have you any news of your\nfather? And do you know where your mother is? Is she in prison\ntoo? Alas! Heaven send they do not bring him to the stake!\"\n\nUlenspiegel ran on faster than ever. He met Nele.\n\n\"Tyl,\" she said, \"you must not go home. They have set guards in our\nhouse in the name of His Majesty.\"\n\nUlenspiegel stopped running.\n\n\"Nele,\" he said, \"is it true that Claes, my father, is in prison?\"\n\n\"It is true,\" Nele said, \"and Soetkin sits weeping at the gaol door.\"\n\nThen the heart of the prodigal son swelled with grief, and he said:\n\"I must go to them.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Nele. \"First you must do what Claes told me, just before\nhe was taken away. 'Look to the money,' he said, 'it is hidden at the\nback of the grate. You must make sure of that first of everything,\nfor it is the inheritance of poor Soetkin.'\"\n\nBut Ulenspiegel would not hear aught and ran on quickly to the\ngaol. There he found Soetkin sitting at the gate. She embraced him\nwith many tears, and they cried on one another's neck.\n\nKnowing that they were there, the populace began to crowd in front of\nthe prison. Then the sergeants arrived and told Soetkin and Ulenspiegel\nthat they were to go away at once. So mother and son returned to Nele's\ncottage, which was next door to their own, and was being guarded by\none of the foot-soldiers who had been sent for from Bruges in case\nthere might be trouble during the trial and execution of Claes. For\nit was well known that the people of Damme loved him exceedingly.\n\nThe soldier was sitting on the pavement in front of the door,\ndraining the last drops of brandy from a flask. Finding it was all\ngone he threw the flask away and was amusing himself by dislodging\nthe stones on the path with the point of his dagger.\n\nSoetkin went in to Katheline, crying most bitterly.\n\nBut Katheline said: \"Fire! Fire! Make a hole! My soul wants to\nget out!\" And she kept wagging her head.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXIX\n\n\nBorgstorm, the great bell of Damme, had summoned the judges to\njudgment. It was four o'clock, and now they were collected together\nat the Vierschare, around the Tree of Justice.\n\nClaes was brought before them. Seated upon the dais was the high\nbailiff of Damme, and by his side, opposite Claes, the mayor, the\nalderman, and the clerk of the court.\n\nThe populace ran together at the sound of the bell. A great crowd\nthey were, and many of them were saying that the judges were there\nto do--not justice--but merely the will of His Imperial Majesty....\n\nAfter certain preliminaries, the high bailiff began to make\nproclamation of the acts and deeds for which Claes had been summoned\nbefore that tribunal.\n\n\"The informer,\" he said, \"had been staying by chance at Damme, not\nwishing to spend all his money at Bruges in feasting and festivity as\nis too often the case during these sacred occasions. On a time, then,\nwhen he was taking the air soberly on his own doorstep, he saw a man\nwalking towards him along the rue Heron. This man Claes also saw,\nand went up to him and greeted him. The stranger, who was dressed\nall in black, entered the house of Claes, leaving the door into the\nstreet half open. Curious to find out who the man was, the informer\nwent into the vestibule, and heard Claes talking to the stranger in the\nkitchen. The talk was all about a certain Josse, the brother of Claes,\nwho it seems had been made prisoner among the army of the Reformers,\nand had suffered the punishment of being broken alive on the wheel\nof torture, not far from Aix. The stranger said that he had brought\nClaes a sum of money which his brother had desired to leave him, which\nmoney having been gained from the ignorant and poverty-stricken, it\nbehoved Claes to spend it in bringing up his own son in the Reformed\nFaith. He also urged Claes to quit the bosom of our Holy Mother\nChurch, and spake also many other impious words to which the only\nreply vouchsafed by Claes was this: 'The cruel brutes! Alas, my poor\nJosse!' So did the prisoner blaspheme against our Holy Father the Pope\nand against His Royal Majesty, accusing them of cruelty in that they\nrightly had punished heresy as a crime of treason against God and\nman. When the stranger had finished the meal that Claes put before\nhim, our agent heard Claes cry out again: 'Alas, poor Josse! May God\nkeep thee in his glory! How cruel they were to thee!' And thus did he\naccuse God himself of impiety by this suggestion that He could receive\na heretic into His heaven. Nor did Claes ever cease to cry aloud:\n'Alas! Alas! My poor Josse!' The stranger then, launching out into\na frenzy, like a preacher beginning his sermon, fell to revile most\nshamefully our Holy Mother the Church. 'She will fall,' he shouted,\n'she will fall, the mighty Babylon, the whore of Rome, and she will\nbecome the abode of demons, and the haunt of every bird accursed.' And\nClaes meanwhile continued the same old cry: 'Cruel brutes! Alas, poor\nJosse!' And the stranger went on in the same way as he had begun,\nsaying: 'Verily an angel shall appear that shall take a stone that\nis great as a millstone, and shall cast it into the sea, crying:\n\"Thus shall it be done to Babylon the mighty, and she shall be no\nmore seen.\"' Whereupon, 'Sir,' says Claes, 'your mouth is full of\nbitterness; but tell me, when cometh that kingdom in which they\nthat are gentle of heart shall be able to dwell in peace upon the\nearth?' 'Never,' answered the stranger, 'while yet my Lord Antichrist\nrules, that is the Pope, who is to-day the enemy to all truth.' 'Ah,'\nsaid Claes, 'you speak with little respect of the Holy Father. But\nhe, surely, is ignorant of the cruel punishments which are meted out\nto poor Reformers.' 'Not at all,' answered the stranger, 'and far\nfrom it, for it is he who initiates the decrees and causes them to\nbe put into force by the Emperor, now by the King. The latter enjoys\nall the benefits of confiscation, inherits the property of the dead,\nand finds it easy to bring charges of heresy against those who have\nany wealth.' Claes said: 'Indeed I know that such things are freely\nspoken of in the land of Flanders, and one may well believe them, for\nthe flesh of man is weak, even though the flesh be royal flesh. O my\npoor Josse!' And by this did Claes give to understand that heretics\nare punished because of a vile desire on the part of His Majesty for\nfilthy lucre. The stranger wished to argue the matter further, but\nClaes said: 'Please, sir, do not let us continue this conversation,\nfor if it were overheard I might easily find myself involved in some\nawkward inquiry.' Then Claes got up to go to the cellar, whence he\npresently returned with a pot of beer. 'I am going to shut the door,'\nsaid he, and after that the informer heard nothing more, for he had\nto make his way out of the house as quickly as he could. Not till\nit was night was the door again opened, and then the stranger came\nforth. But he soon returned, knocking at the door and calling to Claes:\n'It is very cold, and I know not where I am to lodge this night. Give\nme shelter, pray. No one has seen me. The town is deserted.' Claes\nwelcomed him in, lit a lantern, and last of all he was seen to be\nleading the heretic up the staircase into a little attic room with\na window that looked out on to the country.\"\n\nAt this Claes cried out: \"And who could have reported all this but\nyou, you wicked fishmonger! I saw you on Sunday, standing at your\ndoor, as straight as a post, gazing up, like the hypocrite you are,\nat the swallows in their flight!\"\n\nAnd as he spoke, he pointed with his finger at Josse Grypstuiver,\nthe Dean of the Fishmongers, who showed his ugly phiz in the crowd\nof people. And the fishmonger gave an evil smile when he saw Claes\nbetraying himself in this way. And the people in the crowd, men,\nwomen, and maids, looked one at the other and said: \"Poor good man,\nhis words will be the death of him without a doubt.\"\n\nBut the clerk continued his depositions.\n\n\"Claes and the heretic stayed talking together for a long time that\nnight, and so for six other nights, during which time the stranger was\nseen to make many gestures of menace or of benediction, and to lift up\nhis hands to heaven as do his fellow-heretics. And Claes appeared to\napprove of what he said. And there is no doubt that throughout these\ndays and nights they were speaking together opprobriously of the Mass,\nof the confessional, of indulgences, and of the Royal Majesty....\"\n\n\"No one heard it,\" said Claes, \"and I cannot be accused in this way\nwithout any evidence.\"\n\nThe clerk answered:\n\n\"There is something else that was overheard. The evening that the\nstranger left your roof, seven days after he had first come to you,\nyou went with him as far as the end of Katheline's field. There he\nasked you what you had done with the wicked idols\"--here the bailiff\ncrossed himself--\"of Madame the Virgin, and of St. Nicholas and\nSt. Martin. You replied that you had broken them all up and thrown\nthem into the well. They were, in fact, found in the well last night,\nand the pieces are now in the torture-chamber.\"\n\nAt these words Claes appeared to be quite overcome. The bailiff\nasked if he had nothing to answer. Claes made a sign with his head\nin the negative.\n\nThe bailiff asked him if he would not recant the accursed thoughts\nwhich had led him to break the images, and the impious delusion\nwhereby he had spoken such evil words against Pope and Emperor,\nwho were both divine personages.\n\nClaes replied that his body was the Emperor's, but that his soul was\nChrist's, whose law he desired to obey. The bailiff asked him if this\nlaw were the same as that of Holy Mother Church. Claes answered:\n\n\"The law of Christ is written in the Holy Gospel.\"\n\nWhen ordered to answer the question as to whether the Pope is the\nrepresentative of God on earth, he answered, \"No.\"\n\nWhen asked if he believed that it was forbidden to adore images of Our\nLady and of the saints, he replied that such was idolatry. Questioned\nas to whether the practice of auricular confession was a good and\nsalutary thing, he answered: \"Christ said, confess your sins one\nto another.\"\n\nHe spoke out bravely, though at the same time it was evident that he\nwas ill at ease and in his heart afraid.\n\nAt length, eight o'clock having sounded and evening coming on,\nthe members of the tribunal retired, deferring their judgment until\nthe morrow.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXL\n\n\nThe next day the great bell, Borgstorm, clanged out its summons\nto the judges of the tribunal. When they were all assembled at the\nVierschare, seated upon the four benches that were set around the\nlime-tree, Claes was cross-examined afresh, and asked if he was\nwilling to recant his errors.\n\nBut Claes lifted his hand towards heaven:\n\n\"The Lord Christ beholdeth me from on high,\" he said, \"and when my son\nUlenspiegel was born I also gazed upon His Sun. Where is Ulenspiegel\nnow? Where is he now, the vagabond? O Soetkin, sweet wife, will you\nbe brave in the day of trouble?\"\n\nThen looking at the lime-tree he cursed it, saying: \"South wind and\ndrouth, I adjure you to make the trees of our fathers perish one and\nall where they stand, rather than that beneath their shade freedom\nof conscience shall be judged to death! O Ulenspiegel, my son, where\nare you? Harsh was I unto you in days gone by. But now, good sirs,\ntake pity on me, and be merciful to me in your judgment, even as Our\nLord would be merciful.\"\n\nAnd all that heard him wept, save only the judges.\n\nThen Claes asked them a second time if they would not pardon him,\nsaying:\n\n\"Truly I was always a hard-working man, and one that gained little for\nall his toil. I was good to the poor and kind to every one. And if I\nhave left the Roman Church it is only in obedience to the spirit of\nGod that spake to me. I ask for no grace except that the pain of fire\nmay be commuted to a sentence of perpetual banishment from the land of\nFlanders. Banishment for life! A sufficient punishment that, surely!\"\n\nAnd all they that were present cried aloud:\n\n\"Have pity upon him! Have mercy!\"\n\nBut Josse Grypstuiver held his peace.\n\nNow the bailiff made a sign to the company that they should keep\nsilence, adding that the placards contained a clause which expressly\nforbade the petitioning of mercy for heretics. But he said that if\nClaes would abjure his heresy he should be executed by hanging instead\nof by burning. And the people murmured:\n\n\"What matters burning or hanging, they both mean death!\"\n\nAnd the women wept and the men murmured under their breath.\n\nClaes said:\n\n\"I will abjure nothing. Do to my body whatsoever is pleasing to\nyour mercy.\"\n\nThen spoke the Dean of Renaix, Titelman by name:\n\n\"It is intolerable that these vermin of heretics should raise up their\nheads in this way before their judges. After all, the burning of the\nbody is but a passing pain, and torture is necessary for the saving of\nsouls, and for the recantation of error, lest the people be given the\ndangerous spectacle of heretics dying in a state of final impenitence.\"\n\nAt these words the women wept still more, and the men said: \"In those\ncases where the crime is confessed punishment may be rightly inflicted,\nbut torture is illegal!\"\n\nThe tribunal decided that since indeed it was a fact that the\nordinances did not order torture to be applied in such cases, there\nwas no occasion to insist that Claes should suffer it. He was asked\nonce more if he would not recant.\n\n\"I cannot,\" he answered.\n\nThen, in accordance with the ordinances, sentence was passed upon\nhim. He was declared guilty of simony in that he had taken part in\nthe sale of indulgences, and he was also declared to be a heretic and\na harbourer of heretics, and as such he was condemned to be burned\nalive before the hoardings of the Town Hall. His body was to be left\nhanging on the stake for the space of two days as a warning to others,\nand afterwards it was to be interred in the place set apart for the\nbodies of executed criminals. To the informer, Josse Grypstuiver\n(whose name had never been mentioned throughout the whole trial),\nthe tribunal ordered to be paid the sum of fifty florins calculated\non the first hundred florins of the inheritance of the deceased,\nand a tenth part of the remainder.\n\nWhen he heard the sentence that had been passed upon him, Claes turned\nto the Dean of the Fishmongers.\n\n\"You will come to a bad end,\" he said, \"you wicked man that for a\npaltry sum of money have turned a happy wife into a widow, and a\njoyous son into a grieving orphan.\"\n\nThe judges suffered Claes to speak in this way for they also,\nall except Titelman, could not help despising from the bottom of\ntheir hearts the Dean of the Fishmongers for the information he had\ngiven. Grypstuiver himself went pale with shame and anger.\n\nAnd Claes was led back to his prison.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXLI\n\n\nOn the morrow (which was the day before the execution of Claes) the\ndecision of the court was made known to Nele, to Ulenspiegel, and\nSoetkin. They asked the judges for leave to visit Claes in prison,\nwhich permission was granted in the case of the wife and the son only.\n\nOn entering the prison cell they found Claes tied to the wall by\na long chain. A small fire was burning in the grate because of the\ndamp. For it is custom and law in Flanders that they who are condemned\nto death shall be gently treated and be given bread and meat to eat,\nor cheese and wine. Still gaolers are a greedy race, and oftentimes\nthe law is broken, there being many prison guards who themselves eat\nup the greater part of the nourishment provided for the poor prisoners,\nor keep the best morsels for themselves.\n\nClaes embraced Ulenspiegel and Soetkin, crying the while. But he was\nthe first to dry his eyes, for he put control upon himself, being\na man and the head of the family. Soetkin, however, went on crying,\nand Ulenspiegel kept muttering under his breath:\n\n\"I must break these wicked chains!\"\n\nAnd Soetkin said through her tears:\n\n\"I shall go to King Philip. He surely will have mercy!\"\n\nBut Claes answered that this would be no use since the King was wont\nto possess himself of the property of those who died as martyrs.... He\nsaid also:\n\n\"My wife and child, my best beloved, it is with sadness and sorrow that\nI am about to leave this world. If I have some natural apprehension\nfor my own bodily sufferings, I am no less concerned when I think of\nyou and of how poor and wretched you will be when I am gone, for the\nKing will certainly seize for himself all your goods.\"\n\nUlenspiegel made answer, speaking in a low voice for fear of being\noverheard:\n\n\"Yesterday Nele and I hid all the money.\"\n\n\"I am glad,\" Claes answered; \"the informer will not laugh when he\ncomes to count his plunder.\"\n\n\"I had rather he died than had a penny of it,\" said Soetkin with a\nlook of hate in her eyes now dry of tears. But Claes, who was still\nthinking about the caroluses, said to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"That was clever of you, Tyl, my lad; now Soetkin need not be afraid\nof going hungry in the old age of her widowhood.\"\n\nAnd Claes embraced her, pressing her close to his breast, and she\nwept all the more bitterly as she thought how soon she was to lose\nhis tender protection.\n\nClaes looked at Ulenspiegel and said:\n\n\"My son, it was wrong of you to go running off along the high roads of\nthe world like any ruffian. You must not do that any more, my boy. You\nmust not leave her alone at home, my widow in her sorrow. For now it\nis your duty to protect her and take care of her--you, a man.\"\n\n\"I will, father,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"O my poor husband!\" cried Soetkin embracing him again. \"What crime\ncan we have committed? Nay, we lived our life peaceably together,\nlowly and humbly, loving each other well--how well Thou, Lord,\nknowest! Early in the morning we rose for work, and at eventide,\nrendering our thanks to Thee, we ate our daily bread. Oh, would that\nI could come at this King, and tear him with my nails! For in nothing,\nO Lord God, have we offended!\"\n\nBut here the gaoler entered and said that it was time for them\nto depart.\n\nSoetkin begged to be allowed to stay, and Claes felt her poor face\nburning hot as it touched his, and her tears falling in floods and\nwetting all his cheek, and her poor body shaking and trembling in\nhis arms. He, too, entreated the gaoler that she might be suffered\nto remain with him. But the gaoler was obdurate, and removed Soetkin\nby force from the arms of Claes.\n\n\"Take care of her,\" Claes said to Ulenspiegel.\n\nHe promised, and son and mother left the room together, she supported\nin his arms.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXLII\n\n\nThe next day, which was the day of the execution, the neighbours,\nout of pity for their suffering, came and shut up Soetkin and Nele\nand Ulenspiegel in Katheline's cottage. For they could not bear that\nthey should see the terrible sight of the burning. Yet it had been\nforgotten that the far-off cries of the tormented one would reach\nthe cottage, and that those within would be able to see through the\nwindows the flames of the fire.\n\nKatheline, meanwhile, went wandering through the town, wagging her\nhead and crying out continually:\n\n\"Make a hole! Make a hole! My soul wants to get out!\"\n\nAt nine of the clock Claes was led out of his prison. He was dressed in\na shirt only, and his hands were tied behind his back. In accordance\nwith the sentence that had been passed upon him, the pile was set up\nin the rue Notre Dame, with a stake in the midst, just in front of the\nhoarding of the Town Hall. When they arrived there the executioner\nand his assistants had not yet completed the work of stacking the\nwood. Claes stood patiently in the midst of his tormentors watching\nwhile the work was finished, and all the time the provost on his horse,\nwith the officers of the tribunal and the nine foot-soldiers that had\nbeen summoned from Bruges, had the greatest difficulty in keeping\norder among the people. For they murmured one to another, saying\nthat it was cruelty thus to do to death unjustly a man like Claes,\na poor man and already old in years, and one that was so gentle,\nso forgiving, and such a good and steady workman.\n\nSuddenly they all fell upon their knees and began to pray, for the\nbells of Notre Dame were heard tolling for the dead.\n\nKatheline also was among the crowd, right in the front, mad as she\nwas. Fixing her eye on Claes and the pile of wood, she wagged her\nhead and cried continually:\n\n\"Fire! Fire! Dig a hole! My soul wants to get out!\"\n\nWhen Nele and Soetkin heard the sound of the tolling they crossed\nthemselves. But Ulenspiegel did not cross himself, saying that he\nwould never pray to God after the same fashion as those hangmen. But\nhe ran about the cottage, trying to force open the doors or jump from\nthe windows. But they were shut and fastened well.\n\nSuddenly Soetkin hid her face in her apron.\n\n\"The smoke!\" she cried.\n\nAnd in very fact, the three mourners could see, mounting high to\nheaven, a great eddy of smoke; all black it was, the smoke of the\nfuneral pile whereon was Claes, tied to a stake, the smoke of that\nfire which the executioner had just set burning in the name of the\nFather and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost.\n\nClaes looked around for Soetkin or Ulenspiegel. But not seeing them\nanywhere in the crowd he felt happier and more at ease, thinking that\nthey would not know how he suffered. And all the time there was a\nsilence like death, except for the sound of Claes' voice praying, and\nthe crackling of the wood, the murmuring of men, the weeping of the\nwomen, the voice of Katheline as she cried: \"Put out the fire! Make\na hole! My soul wants to get out!\" and over all, the bells of Notre\nDame tolling for the dead.\n\nSuddenly Soetkin's face went as white as snow, and her body trembled\nall over. She did not utter a sound, but pointed to the sky with her\nfinger. For there a long, straight flame of fire had risen above the\npyre, and now was leaping high above the roofs of the lower houses. It\nwas a flame of pain and cruelty to Claes, for following the caprice\nof the breeze, it preyed upon his legs, or touched his head so that\nit smoked, licking and singeing his hair.\n\nUlenspiegel took Soetkin in his arms and tried to tear her away from\nthe window. Then they heard a sharp cry, the cry which came from Claes\nwhen one side of his body was burnt by the dancing flames. But then\nhe was silent again, weeping to himself. And his breast was all wet\nwith his tears.\n\nThereafter Soetkin and Ulenspiegel heard a great noise as of many\nvoices. This was the townsfolk, their wives and their children,\nwho now began to cry and shout out all together:\n\n\"He was not sentenced to be burnt by a slow fire, but by a quick\nfire! Executioner, stir up the faggots!\"\n\nThe executioner did so. But the fire did not flame up quick enough\nto please the mob.\n\n\"Kill him!\" they shouted. \"Put him out of his misery!\" And they began\nto throw missiles at the provost.\n\nSoetkin cried aloud: \"The flame! The great flame!\"\n\nAnd in very truth they saw now a great red flame, mounting heavenwards,\nin the midst of the smoke.\n\n\"He is about to die,\" said the widow. \"O Lord, of your mercy receive\nthe soul of this innocent. Where is the King, that I may go and tear\nout his heart with my nails?\"\n\nAnd all the while the bells of Notre Dame kept tolling for the\ndead. Yet again did Soetkin hear a great cry from her husband; but\nmercifully she was spared the sight of his body writhing in the agony\nof the fire, and his twisted face, and his head that he turned from\nside to side and beat upon the wood of the stake. Meanwhile the crowd\ncontinued to shout and to hiss, and the boys threw stones, until all\nof a sudden the whole pile of wood caught alight, and the voice of\nClaes was heard crying out from the midst of the flame and smoke:\n\n\"Soetkin! Tyl!\"\n\nAnd then his head fell down upon his breast as though it were made\nof lead.\n\nAnd there came a cry, most piteous and piercing, from the cottage of\nKatheline; and after that there was silence, except for the poor mad\nwoman wagging her head and saying:\n\n\"My soul wants to get out!\"\n\nClaes was dead. The fire burned itself away, smouldering at the foot\nof the stake whereon the poor body still hung by its neck.\n\nAnd the bells of Notre Dame tolled for the dead.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXLIII\n\n\nIn Katheline's cottage Soetkin stood leaning against the wall,\nwith her head hanging down and her hands clasped together. She held\nUlenspiegel in her arms, speechless and without a tear. Neither did\nUlenspiegel say anything. It made him afraid to feel the burning\nfever that raged in the body of his mother.\n\nThe neighbours, returning from the place of execution, came to the\ncottage and told how Claes had made an end of his sufferings.\n\n\"He is in glory,\" said the widow.\n\n\"Pray for him,\" said Nele, putting her rosary into the hands of\nUlenspiegel. But he would make no use of it, giving as his reason\nthat the beads had been blessed by the Pope.\n\nAt last night came, and Ulenspiegel urged his mother to go to bed,\ntelling her that he himself would sit up and keep watch in the\nroom. But Soetkin said that there was no need for him to do that. Let\nhim sleep also, for the young have need of a good night's rest. So\nNele prepared two beds for them in the kitchen, and after that she\nleft them.\n\nMother and son stayed up together while what remained of the wood\nfire burned itself out in the grate. Then Soetkin retired to her bed,\nand Ulenspiegel did likewise, listening to his mother sobbing to\nherself under the bedclothes.\n\nOutside in the silence of the night the wind made a murmuring sound\nin the trees by the canal. It was like the far-off sound of waves,\nand it meant that autumn was coming soon. Also, there were great\neddies of dust that beat against the cottage windows.\n\nNow it seemed to Ulenspiegel that he saw the figure of a man going to\nand fro in the room, and he thought he heard the sound of footsteps\ncoming and going in the kitchen. But when he looked he no longer\nsaw the man, and listening he no longer heard those footsteps, but\nonly the sound of the wind as it whistled in the chimney and Soetkin\ncrying under the bedclothes.\n\nThen once again he heard those footsteps, and just behind him, near\nhis head, a soft sigh.\n\n\"Who is it?\" he said.\n\nNo one answered, but quite distinctly came the sound of three taps\non the table. Ulenspiegel was afraid, and began to tremble. \"Who is\nit?\" he said again. No one answered, but once more there came the\nthree taps upon the table, and after that he felt two arms hugging him\nround, and over him there leant a man's body with skin all wrinkled\nand a great hole in its breast that gave forth a smell of burning.\n\n\"Father,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"is it you, and is this your poor body\nthat weighs thus upon me?\"\n\nHe received no answer to his question, and although the shadow seemed\nstill quite close, it was from outside the cottage that he heard a\nvoice crying out to him by name, \"Tyl! Tyl!\"\n\nSuddenly Soetkin got out of bed and came over to where Ulenspiegel\nwas lying.\n\n\"Do you hear something?\" she said.\n\n\"Yes,\" he answered, \"it is father calling to me.\"\n\n\"I too,\" said Soetkin, \"I have felt a cold body beside me in my bed,\nand the mattress has moved, and the curtains. And I heard a voice that\nspoke my name: 'Soetkin!' it said, a voice soft as a whisper. And I\nheard a step near by, light as the sound of a gnat's wings.\" Then\nshe addressed herself to the spirit of Claes: \"If there is aught\nthat you desire in that heaven where God guards you in his glory,\nyou must tell me, my man, that we may know what you would have us do.\"\n\nAll of a sudden a mighty gust of wind came blowing upon the door,\nand it burst wide open and straightway the room was filled with dust;\nand from afar, Soetkin and Ulenspiegel could hear the sound of the\ncawing of many ravens.\n\nThey went out of the cottage, and came together to the place of\ntorture....\n\nIt was a black night, save where the clouds--coursing in the sky like\nstags before the keen north wind--were parted here and there so as\nto disclose the glittering face of some star.\n\nBy the remnants of the pile strode a sergeant of the commune, up and\ndown, keeping guard. Soetkin and Ulenspiegel heard his steps as they\nresounded on the hardened ground, and together with that sound there\ncame the cry of a raven, calling his fellows, doubtless; for from\nfar away there came the sound of other caws in answer.\n\nAs Soetkin and Ulenspiegel approached the pile the raven swooped down\nupon the shoulder of Claes, and they could hear its beak pecking upon\nthe body. And soon the other ravens followed. Ulenspiegel would have\nthrown himself upon the pile and beaten them off had not the sergeant\ncome up and prevented him.\n\n\"Are you a sorcerer,\" cried the man, \"that comes hither for the hands\nof the dead as a talisman, and yet do you not know that the hands of\na man that has been burnt to death possess no power of invisibility,\nbut only hands of one who has been hanged--such as you yourself will\nbe one of these days?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" Ulenspiegel replied, \"I am no sorcerer, but the orphaned son\nof the man tied to this stake here. And this woman is the dead man's\nwidow. We only wish to kiss him once again, and to take away a few\nof his ashes in his memory. Give us leave, sir, pray, for you are\ncertainly no foreign soldier, but a son of this land.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said the sergeant.\n\nSo the orphan and the widow made their way over the charred wood and\napproached the body. Weeping, they both kissed the face of Claes.\n\nThen Ulenspiegel found the place where the heart had been, a great hole\nhollowed out by the flames, and therefrom he took a few ashes. Then\nSoetkin and he knelt down and said a prayer, and when the sky began to\nturn pale in the dawn they were still kneeling there together. But the\nsergeant drove them off, for he was afraid that he would be punished\nfor his kindness.\n\nWhen they were home again Soetkin took a piece of red silk, and a piece\nof black silk, and she made a little bag to contain the ashes. And\non the little bag she sewed two ribbons so that Ulenspiegel could\nalways carry it suspended round his neck. And she gave it to him with\nthese words:\n\n\"These ashes are the heart of my husband. This red ribbon is his\nblood. This black one is our sorrow. Always upon your breast let them\nlie, and call down thereby the fire of vengeance upon his torturers.\"\n\n\"Amen,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd the widow embraced her orphan, and the sun rose.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXLIV\n\n\nIn that year, being the fifty-eighth year of the century, Katheline\ncame into Soetkin's house and spake as follows:\n\n\"Last night, being anointed with balm, I was transported to the\ntower of Notre Dame, and I beheld the elemental spirits that carry the\nprayers of men to the angels, and they in their turn, flying up towards\nthe highest heaven, bring them to the Throne of God. And everywhere\nthe sky was strewn with glittering stars. Suddenly I saw the figure\nof a man that seemed all blackened and charred, rising from a funeral\npile. Mounting up towards me, this figure took its place beside me on\nthe tower. I saw that it was Claes, just as he was in life, dressed in\nhis charcoal-burner's clothes. He asked me what I was doing there on\nthe tower of Notre Dame. 'And you,' I asked in my turn, 'whither are\nyou off to, flying in the air like a bird?' 'I am going,' he answered,\n'to judgment. Hear you not the angel's trump that summons me?' I was\nquite close to him, and could feel the very substance of his spiritual\nbody--not hard and resisting to the touch like the bodies of those\nthat are alive, but so rarefied that to come up against it was like\nadvancing into a kind of warm mist. And at my feet stretched out on\nevery side the land of Flanders, with a few lights shining here and\nthere, and I said to myself: 'They that rise early and work late,\nsurely they are the blessed of God!' And all the time I could hear\nthe angel's trumpet calling through the night. And presently I saw\nanother shade mounting up towards me from the land of Spain. This\nwas an old man and decrepit, with a protruding chin, and quince jam\nall oozing from the corners of his lips.\n\n\"On its back it wore a cloak of crimson velvet lined with ermine,\nand on its head an imperial crown, and it kept nibbling a piece of\nanchovy which it carried in one hand, while in the other hand it\nclutched a tankard of beer. I could see that this spirit was tired\nout and had come to the tower of Notre Dame to rest itself. Kneeling\ndown, I addressed it in these words: 'Most Imperial Majesty, of a\ntruth I revere you, yet I know not who you are. Whence come you? And\nwhat was your position in the world?' 'I come,' answered the shade,\n'from Saint Juste in the country of Estramadoure. I was the Emperor\nCharles the Fifth.' 'But,' said I, 'whither, pray, are you going on\nsuch a cold night as this, and over these clouds that are all heavy\nand charged with hail?' 'I go,' answered the shade, 'to judgment.'\n\n\"Just as the Emperor was about to finish his anchovy and drink up\nhis tankard of beer, the angel's trumpet sounded, and straightway\nhe had to betake himself to the air again, grumbling at this sudden\ninterruption of his repast. High aloft he mounted through space,\nI following close behind; and as he went he hiccuped with fatigue,\nand coughed asthmatically, even vomited now and again; for death\nhad come upon him at a time when he was suffering from a fit of\nindigestion. Thus ceaselessly we soared aloft like arrows shot from a\nbow of cornel-wood. The stars glimmered all around us, and time and\nagain we saw them detach themselves and fall headlong, tracing long\nstrokes of fire upon the sky. Once more the angel's trump resounded,\nvery shrill and powerful. Each fanfare seemed to cleave for itself a\npathway through the cloudy air, scattering the mists asunder like a\nhurricane that has begun to blow from near at hand. And by this means\nour track was marked out clearly for us, till at length, when we had\nbeen carried up and up a thousand leagues and more, we beheld Christ\nHimself in His glory, seated upon a throne of stars. And at His right\nhand was the angel who records the deeds of men upon a register of\nbrass, and at His left hand stood Mary His Mother, she that for ever\nimplores mercy for poor sinners.\n\n\"Claes and the Emperor knelt down together before the throne. And\nthe angel took off the crown from the head of the Emperor, and cast\nit away.\n\n\"'There is only one Emperor here,' he said. It is 'Christ!'\n\n\"His Sacred Majesty could not conceal his annoyance; yet managed to\nassume a humble tone of voice as he begged to be allowed to keep his\nanchovy and his tankard of beer, for that he had come a long way and\nwas very hungry.\n\n\"'Hungry you have been all your life,' said the angel, 'nevertheless,\nyou may go on with your eating and drinking if you want to.'\n\n\"The Emperor emptied the tankard of beer and took a nibble at the\nanchovy. Then Christ addressed him with these words:\n\n\"'Do you present yourself to judgment with a clean soul?'\n\n\"'I trust so, dear Lord,' answered Charles the Emperor, 'for I have\nconfessed my sins and am well shriven.'\n\n\"'And you, Claes? You do not seem to be trembling like the Emperor.'\n\n\"'My Lord Jesus,' answered Claes, 'there is no soul that is clean,\nand how should I be afraid of you, you that are sovereign good and\nsovereign justice. Nevertheless, I am afraid of my sins, for they\nare many.'\n\n\"'Speak, carrion!' said the angel, addressing himself to the Emperor.\n\n\"'I, Lord,' said Charles, in an embarrassed tone of voice, 'I am\nhe that was anointed with oil by your priests, and crowned King of\nCastile, Emperor of Germany, and King of the Romans. It has ever been\nmy first care to maintain that power which was given me by you, and\nto that end I have done my best by hanging and by sword, by burning\nand by burying alive, by pit and by fire to keep down all Reformers\nand Protestants.'\n\n\"But the angel said:\n\n\"'O you false and dyspeptic man, you are trying to deceive us. In\nGermany, forsooth, you were tolerant enough of the Protestants,\nseeing that there you had good cause to be afraid of them. But in\nthe Netherlands you beheaded, burned, hanged, and buried them alive,\nfor there your only fear was lest you might fail to inherit sufficient\nof their property--so rich and plenteous, like the honey made by busy\nbees. And there perished at your hands one hundred thousand souls,\nnot at all because you loved the Lord Christ, but because you were a\ndespot, a tyrant, a waster of your country, and one that loved himself\nfirst of all, and after that, nothing but meat, fish, wine, and beer,\nfor you were always as greedy as a dog and as thirsty as a sponge.'\n\n\"When the angel had made an end, Christ commanded that Claes should\nspeak, but now the angel rose from his place, saying: 'This man has\nnothing to answer. He was a good, hard-working man, as are all the\npoor people of Flanders, willing either for work or play; one that\nkept faith with his masters and trusted his masters to keep faith\nwith him. But he possessed a certain amount of money, and it was for\nthis reason that an accusation was brought against him, and inasmuch\nas he had harboured in his house a heretic, he was condemned to be\nburnt alive.'\n\n\"'Alas!' cried Mary, 'the poor martyr! But here in heaven there\nare springs of fresh water, fountains of milk, and exquisite wine\nwhich will refresh you, and I myself will lead you there, good\ncharcoal-burner!'\n\n\"And now the angel's trumpet sounded yet again, and I saw a man,\nnaked and very beautiful, rising from the abyss. On his head was\nan iron crown, and on the rim of the crown these words inscribed:\n'Sorrowful till the day of judgment.'\n\n\"He approached the throne and said to Christ:\n\n\"'Thy slave I am until that day when I shall be Thy master!'\n\n\"'O Satan,' said Mary, 'the day will come when there shall be neither\nslave nor master any more, and when Christ who is Love, and Satan who\nis Pride, shall stand forth together as the One Lord both of Power\nand of Knowledge.'\n\n\"'Woman,' said Satan, 'thou art all goodness and all beauty.'\n\n\"Then addressing himself to Christ, and pointing at the same\ntime towards the Emperor, Satan demanded what was to be done with\nhim. Christ answered:\n\n\"'Take this crowned wormling and put him in a room wherein you have\ncollected together all instruments of torture which were in use under\nhis rule. And each time that some innocent wretch is made to suffer the\ntorture of water, whereby the bodies of men swell up like bladders; or\nthe torture of the candles, whereby the soles of their feet or their\narmpits are burned and scorched; or the torture of the strappado,\nwhereby their limbs are broken; or the torture of the four wagons\nthat drags them asunder--and every time that a free soul breathes out\nits last upon the funeral pile let this man also endure in his turn\nthese same deaths and tortures, to the end that he may learn in his\nown person what evil may be wrought in the world by an unjust man who\nhas power over his fellows. Let him languish in prison, let him meet\ndeath upon the scaffold, let him mourn in exile, far from his native\nland, let him be scorned, abused, and flogged with many whips. Let\nhim know what it is to be rich and see all his property eaten up\nby the tax-gatherer, let him be accused by informers and ruined by\nconfiscations. Turn him into an ass that he may know what it is to be\ngentle by nature and at the same time ill-treated and badly fed; let\nhim be a poor man that asks for alms and is answered only with abuse;\nlet him be a workman that labours too long and eats too little; and\nthen, when he has thus well suffered both in his body and his soul,\nturn him into a dog that he may be beaten, an Indian slave that he\nmay be sold to the highest bidder, a soldier that he may fight for\nanother and be killed without knowing why. And then, at the end of\nthree hundred years, when he has exhausted all sufferings and all\nmiseries, make a free man of him, and if in that state of life he is\ngood like Claes here, you may lay at last his body to rest in some\nquiet corner of earth that is shady in the noonday heat and open to\nthe morning sun, and there beneath a beautiful tree and covered with\nfresh sward, he shall find eternal repose. And his friends shall come\nto his grave to moisten it with their tears, and to sow violets there,\nwhich are called the flowers of remembrance.'\n\n\"But Mary said: 'Have mercy upon him, O my Son; he knew not what he\ndid, and we know how power hardens the heart.'\n\n\"'There is no mercy for him,' said Christ.\n\n\"'Alas!' cried His Sacred Majesty, 'woe is me! Would that I had but\na single glass of Andalusian wine!'\n\n\"'Come,' said Satan, 'it is past the time for wine or meat or poultry!'\n\n\"And away he carried off the soul of the poor Emperor, down to the\nnethermost hell, still nibbling as he went his piece of anchovy. For\nthis Satan suffered him to do out of pity.\n\n\"Thereafter I saw that Our Lady conducted Claes away and up into the\nhighest heaven, where is nothing but stars hanging from the roof like\nclusters of grapes. And there the angels washed him clean, and he\nbecame all beautiful and young, and they gave him rystpap to drink\nin silver ladles. And then the heavens closed.\"\n\n\"Claes is in glory,\" said the widow.\n\n\"His ashes beat against my heart,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXLV\n\n\nDuring all the three and twenty days that followed, Katheline grew\npaler and paler, and thin and all dried up as though devoured not\nonly by the madness that consumed her but by some interior fire\nthat was even deadlier still. No more did she cry out as of old:\n\"Fire! Fire! Dig a hole! My soul wants to get out!\" But she was\ncontinually transported into a kind of ecstasy, in which she spake\nto Nele many strange words.\n\n\"A wife I am,\" she said, \"and a wife you also ought to be. My husband\nis a handsome man. A hairy man is he, hot with love. But his knees and\nhis arms, they are cold!\" And Soetkin looked at her sadly, wondering\nwhat new kind of madness this might be. But Katheline continued:\n\n\"Three times three are nine, the sacred number. He whose eyes glitter\nin the night like the eyes of a cat--he only it is that sees the\nmystery.\"\n\nOne evening when Katheline was talking in this way, Soetkin made a\ngesture of misgiving. But Katheline said:\n\n\"Under Saturn, four and three mean misfortune. But under Venus,\nit is the marriage number. Cold arms! Cold knees! Heart of fire!\"\n\nSoetkin answered:\n\n\"It is wrong to talk in this way of these wicked pagan idols.\"\n\nBut Katheline only crossed herself and said:\n\n\"Blessed be the grey horseman. Nele must have a husband--a handsome\nhusband that carries a sword, a dusky husband with a shining face!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" cried Ulenspiegel, \"a very fricassee of a husband, for whom\nI will make a sauce with my knife!\"\n\nNele looked at her lover with eyes that were moist with pleasure to\nsee him so jealous.\n\n\"None of your husbands for me!\" she said.\n\nBut Katheline made answer:\n\n\"When cometh he? He that is clad in grey, and booted and spurred?\"\n\nSoetkin bade them say a prayer to God for the poor afflicted one,\nwhereupon Katheline in her madness ordered Ulenspiegel go and fetch\nfour quarts of dobbel kuyt what time she made ready some heete-koeken,\nas pancakes are called in Flanders.\n\nSoetkin asked her why she wished to make festival on a Saturday like\nthe Jews.\n\n\"Because the butter is ready,\" said Katheline.\n\nSo Ulenspiegel stood up and took in his hand the big pot of English\npewter that held just four quarts.\n\n\"Mother,\" he asked, \"what shall I do?\"\n\n\"Go,\" said Katheline.\n\nSoetkin did not like to say anything more, for she was not mistress of\nthe house. So she told her son to go and do as Katheline had bidden\nhim. Ulenspiegel ran to the tavern and brought back with him the\nfour quarts of dobbel kuyt. And soon the kitchen reeked with the\ngood smell of pancakes, and every one felt hungry, even the poor\nafflicted Katheline.\n\nUlenspiegel ate heartily, and drank heartily also, for Katheline\nhad given him a full tankard, saying, with a malicious look, that it\nbehoved him to drink more than the others seeing that he was the only\nmale and the head of the house. Afterwards she asked him to give them\na song.\n\nBut Ulenspiegel did not sing, and Nele was all tearful, seeing Soetkin\nso pale, and as it were all sunken into herself. Katheline alone of\nthem all appeared to be happy.\n\nWhen the meal was over Soetkin and Ulenspiegel went up into the loft\nto bed. Katheline and Nele stayed behind, for they slept together in\nthe kitchen.\n\nAll was quiet until the second hour after midnight. Ulenspiegel had\nalready been asleep for a long time because of all the beer he had\nbeen drinking. But Soetkin, as her custom was, lay on with eyes wide\nopen, praying Our Lady to send her sleep, but with no avail.\n\nAll of a sudden she heard the cry of a sea-eagle, and from the\nkitchen came a like cry, in answer. Then, from far off in the country\nsomewhere, other cries resounded, always as it seemed in answer to\nthat cry in the kitchen just below.\n\nSoetkin tried to think it was only the night-birds calling to\none another, and endeavoured to distract her attention from those\nsounds. But presently she heard a neighing of horses and a noise as of\niron sabots beating along the high road. Then it was that she opened\nthe window of the loft and saw that in very fact there were a couple of\nhorses saddled just outside the cottage, pawing the ground and nibbling\nthe grass that grew by the side of the road. Thereafter she heard the\nvoice of a woman crying out in fear, and a man's voice threatening,\nfollowed by the sound of blows, more cries, a door shutting with a\nbang, and then steps running up the ladder in mortal fear:\n\nAll this time Ulenspiegel was snoring away in his bed, hearing nothing,\ntill the door of the loft opened and Nele came in, out of breath,\nsobbing, and with scarcely anything on. As hastily as she could the\ngirl dragged against the door a table, some chairs, an old heating\nstove, any bit of furniture that was to hand. With these she made a\nrough-and-ready barricade. Meanwhile, outside, the last stars were\npaling in the heavens and the cocks beginning to crow.\n\nUlenspiegel had turned over in his bed at the noise Nele was making,\nbut now he had gone to sleep again. Nele, meanwhile, had thrown\nherself on to Soetkin's neck.\n\n\"Soetkin,\" she said, \"I am afraid. Light the candle, do!\"\n\nSoetkin did so, and all the time Nele never left off moaning. By the\nlight of the candle Soetkin looked the girl up and down. Her shift\nwas torn at the shoulder and in front, and there were traces of\nblood upon her neck and cheek, such as might be left by the scratch\nof a finger-nail.\n\n\"Whence have you come? And what are these wounds?\" Soetkin asked her.\n\nTrembling and groaning all the time, the girl made answer:\n\n\"For mercy's sake, Soetkin, do not bring us to the stake!\"\n\nUlenspiegel meanwhile had awakened from his sleep, and was blinking\nhis eyes in the sudden light of the candle. Soetkin said:\n\n\"Who is it down there?\"\n\n\"Not so loud!\" Nele whispered. \"It is the husband Katheline desired\nfor me.\"\n\nAll at once Soetkin and Nele heard Katheline cry out in a loud voice,\nand their legs gave way beneath them in their terror.\n\n\"He is beating her,\" said Nele, \"he is beating her because of me!\"\n\n\"Who is it in the house?\" cried Ulenspiegel, jumping out of bed. And\nthen, rubbing his eyes, he went stalking up and down the room till\nat last he found a heavy poker that stood in the corner. He took\nhold of it, but Nele tried to dissuade him, telling him that there\nwas no one there. But he paid no attention, running to the door and\nthrowing to one side the chairs and tables and the stove that Nele\nhad piled up in front of it. All this time Katheline was crying out\nfrom the kitchen, and Nele and Soetkin held Ulenspiegel--the one\nby the waist, the other by the legs--and tried to prevent him from\ndescending the stairs. \"Don't go down,\" they told him. \"Don't go down,\nUlenspiegel. There are devils down there.\"\n\n\"Forsooth,\" says he, \"Nele's devil-husband! Him verily will I join in\nmarriage to this long poker of mine! A marriage of iron and flesh! Let\nme go!\"\n\nBut they did not loose their hold, hanging on as they were to the\nlanding rail.\n\nAnd all the time Ulenspiegel was trying to drag them down the\nstaircase, and they the more frightened as they came nearer to the\ndevils below. And they could avail naught against him, so that at last,\ndescending now by leaps and bounds like a snowball that falls from the\ntop of a mountain, he came into the kitchen. And there was Katheline,\nall exhausted and pale in the light of dawn.\n\n\"Hanske,\" she was saying, \"O Hanske, why must you leave me? Is it my\nfault if Nele is naughty?\"\n\nUlenspiegel did not take any notice of her, but straightway opened\nthe door of the shed, and finding no one there, rushed out into the\nyard, and thence into the high road. Far away he descried two horses\ngalloping off and disappearing in the mist. He ran after them hoping\nto overtake them, but he could not, for they went like a south wind\nthat scours the dry autumn leaves.\n\nUlenspiegel was angry with disappointment, and he came back into the\ncottage grieving sore in his heart and muttering between his teeth:\n\n\"They have done their worst on her! They have done their worst!...\"\n\nAnd he looked on Nele with eyes that burned with an evil flame. But\nNele, all trembling, stood up before Katheline and the widow.\n\n\"No!\" she cried. \"No, Tyl, my lover! No!\"\n\nAnd as she spoke she looked him straight in the face, so sadly and so\nfrankly that Ulenspiegel saw clearly that what she said was true. Then\nhe spake again, and questioned her:\n\n\"But whence came those cries, and whither went those men? Why is your\nshift all torn on the shoulder and the back? And why do you bear on\nforehead and cheek these marks of a man's nails?\"\n\n\"I will tell you,\" she said, \"but be careful that you do not have\nus burned at the stake for what I shall tell you. You must know that\nKatheline--whom God save from Hell--hath had these three-and-twenty\ndays a devil for her lover. He is dressed all in black, he is booted\nand spurred. His face gleams with a flame of fire like what one sees\nin summer-time when it is hot, on the waves of the sea.\"\n\nAnd Katheline whimpered: \"Why, oh why, have you left me, Hanske,\nmy pet? Nele is naughty!\"\n\nBut Nele went on with her story:\n\n\"The devil announces his approach in a voice that is like the crying of\na sea-eagle. Every Saturday my mother receives him in the kitchen. And\nshe says that his kisses are cold and that his body is like snow. One\ntime he brought her some florins, but he took from her all the other\nmoney that she had.\"\n\nAll this time Soetkin kept on praying for Katheline, with clasped\nhands. But Katheline spake joyfully:\n\n\"My body is mine no more. My mind is mine no more. O Hanske, my\npet, take me with you yet once again, I beg you, to the Witches'\nSabbath. Only Nele will never come. Nele is naughty, I tell you.\"\n\nBut Nele went on with her story:\n\n\"At dawn,\" she said, \"the devil would go away, and the next day my\nmother would relate to me a hundred strange things. But, Tyl dear, you\nmust not look at me with those cruel eyes.... Yesterday, for instance,\nshe told me that a splendid prince, clad in grey, Hilbert by name,\nwas anxious to take me in marriage, and that he was coming here\nhimself that I might see him. I told her that I wanted no husband,\nhandsome or plain. Nevertheless, by weight of her maternal authority\nshe persuaded me to stay up for him, for she certainly keeps all her\nwits about her in whatever pertains to her amours. Well, we were half\nundressed, ready to go to bed; and I had gone off to sleep sitting\non that chair. It seems that I did not wake up when they came in,\nand the first thing I knew was that some one was embracing me and\nkissing me on the neck. And then, by the bright light of the moon,\nI beheld a face that shone like the crests of the waves of a July sea\nwhen there is thunder in the air, and I heard a low voice speaking to\nme and saying: 'I am your husband, Hilbert. Be mine! I will make thee\nrich.' And from the face of him that spake these words there came an\nodour like the odour of fish. Quickly I pushed that face away from\nme, but the man tried to take me by force, and although I had the\nstrength of ten against him, he managed to tear my shift and scratch\nmy face, crying out the while that if only I would give myself to\nhim he would make me rich. 'Yes,' I answered, 'as rich as my mother,\nwhom you have deprived of her last liard!' At that he redoubled\nhis violence, but he could not do anything against me. And at last,\nsince he was more disgusting than a corpse, I scratched him in the\neye with my nails so sharply that he cried out with pain, and I was\nable to make my escape and run up here to Soetkin.\"\n\nAnd all this while Katheline kept on with her \"Nele is naughty. And\nwhy did you go away so soon, O Hanske, my pet?\"\n\nBut Soetkin asked her where she had been while wicked men were\nattempting the honour of her child.\n\n\"It is Nele that is naughty,\" Katheline replied. \"As for me, I was\nin company of my black master, when the devil in grey comes to us,\nwith his face all bloody. 'Come away,' he cries, 'come away, my boy,\nthis is an evil house; for the men, it seems, are of a mind to fight\nwith one to the death, and the women carry knives at the tips of\ntheir fingers.' And there and then they ran off to their horses,\nand disappeared in the mist. Ah, Nele, Nele! She is a naughty lass,\nI tell you!\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXLVI\n\n\nOn the following day, while they were making a meal of hot milk,\nSoetkin said to Katheline:\n\n\"You see how misfortune is already driving me from this world; and\nyet you, it seems, would like to drive me away all the faster by your\naccursed sorceries!\"\n\nBut Katheline only went on repeating:\n\n\"Nele is naughty. Come back, Hanske, my pet!\"\n\nIt was the following Wednesday when the two devils came again. Ever\nsince the preceding Saturday Nele had slept out at the house of a widow\nwoman named Van den Houte, saying, by way of excusing herself, that she\ncould not stay with Katheline because of that young rogue Ulenspiegel.\n\nNow Katheline welcomed her black master and her master's friend\nout in the keet, which is to say the laundry or bakehouse adjoining\nthe cottage. And there did they feast and regale themselves with old\nwine and with smoked ox tongue, which viands were always prepared and\nready in that place for them. And the black devil said to Katheline:\n\n\"You must know, Katheline, that we are engaged in a mighty work,\nand to accomplish it we have need of a large sum of money. Give us,\nI pray you, what you can.\"\n\nWhen she only offered them a florin they threatened to kill her. But\nwhen she had raised the amount to a couple of golden caroluses and\nseven deniers they let her off.\n\n\"Come not again on Saturdays,\" she told them, \"for Ulenspiegel has\ndiscovered that your custom it is to come on that day, and he will\ncertainly be waiting for you and will beat you to death, and that\nwould be the death of me as well.\"\n\n\"We will come next Tuesday,\" they told her.\n\nNow on that day Nele and Ulenspiegel went to sleep without any anxiety,\nthinking that the devils only came to the cottage on Saturdays. But\nKatheline got out of bed secretly and went into the yard to see if\nher friends had arrived. She was very impatient, for since seeing\nHanske again her madness had abated, for hers was a lover's madness,\nas they say.\n\nBut to-night she could nowhere see her friends, and she was greatly\ndistressed, so that when, presently, she heard the cry of the sea-eagle\ncoming as it seemed from the open country in the direction of Sluys,\nshe went out towards that cry, making her way across the field by the\nside of a tall dike that was constructed of sticks and grass. She\nhad not gone far when she heard the two devils conversing together\nat the other side of the dike. And one of them said:\n\n\"Half shall be mine.\"\n\nAnd the other answered:\n\n\"No. Nothing of the kind. What is Katheline's belongs to me. All\nof it.\"\n\nThen they blasphemed together most terribly, disputing as to which of\nthe two should be possessed of the property and the love of Katheline\nand of Nele into the bargain. Paralysed with fear, daring neither to\nspeak nor to move, Katheline presently heard them fall to fighting\nwith one another. And then one of the devils cried aloud:\n\n\"Ah! The cold steel!\"\n\nAnd after that there came the sound of a death-rattle, and of a body\nfalling heavily.\n\nTerrified as she was, Katheline returned to the cottage.\n\nAt two of the morning she heard once more the cry of the sea-eagle,\nbut this time close at hand in the yard. She went to the door and\nopened it, and saw her devil lover standing there all alone.\n\nShe asked him what he had done with his friend.\n\n\"He will not come again,\" he told her.\n\nThen he kissed her and caressed her, and his kisses seemed colder\nthan ever before. When the time came for him to depart, he asked her\nto give him twenty florins. This was all that she had, but she gave\nhim seventeen.\n\nThe next day she could not control her curiosity, and walked out along\nby the dike. But she found nothing, except at one place a mark on the\ngrass about the size of a man's coffin; and the grass was wet underfoot\nand red with blood. But that evening rain fell, washing the blood away.\n\nOn the following Wednesday Katheline heard yet again the cry of the\nsea-eagle in the yard.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXLVII\n\n\nNow whenever any money was needed to pay for the expenses of\nKatheline's household, Ulenspiegel was accustomed to go by night\nto the hole by the well wherein had been hidden the money left by\nClaes. He would lift up the stone that covered the top of the well\nand would take out a carolus.\n\nOne evening the two women were busy with their spinning, while\nUlenspiegel sat carving a chest which had been commissioned from him\nby the town bailiff. And upon the side of the chest he was carving\na hunting scene. Very beautiful it was and cleverly carved, with\na pack of hounds running in pairs closely following one another,\nchasing their quarry.\n\nKatheline was there, and Nele asked Soetkin absent-mindedly if she\nhad found a safe hiding-place for her treasure. Thinking no harm,\nthe widow answered that it would be hard to find a safer place than\nthe side of the well wall.\n\nNear midnight of the following Thursday Soetkin was awakened by Bibulus\nSchnouffius, who was barking fiercely. But soon he was quiet again,\nand Soetkin, thinking that it was a false alarm, turned over and went\nto sleep.\n\nThe next day when Nele and Ulenspiegel rose at dawn they were surprised\nto find no Katheline in the kitchen, neither was the fire lit, nor was\nthere any milk boiling on the fire as usual. They were surprised at\nthis and went out to see if perchance she was in the yard. And there\nthey found her, all dishevelled in her linen shift, notwithstanding\nthat it was drizzling with rain, and she was all damp and shivering,\nand stood there, not daring to come in.\n\nUlenspiegel went up to her and asked her what she was doing half\nnaked there in the rain?\n\n\"Ah!\" she said. \"Yes, yes. Strange things have happened! Strange,\nwonderful things!\"\n\nAnd as she spoke she pointed to the ground, and they saw the dog\nlying there with its throat cut, all dead and stiff.\n\nUlenspiegel's thoughts ran at once to the treasure. He hastened to\nthe hole by the well, and found as he had feared that it was empty,\nand all around the earth scattered about far and wide.\n\nHe ran back to Katheline and struck her with his hand.\n\n\"Where are the caroluses?\" he cried.\n\n\"Yes! Yes! Strange things have been happening!\" she answered.\n\nAt this Nele tried to protect her mother from the wrath of Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Have mercy, have pity,\" she cried. \"O Ulenspiegel!\"\n\nThen he stopped beating the wretched woman, and at the same moment\nSoetkin appeared on the scene and wanted to know what was the matter.\n\nUlenspiegel showed her the dog with its throat cut and the empty\nhole. Soetkin turned pale, and cried out most sorrowfully:\n\n\"O God, thou hast brought me low indeed!\"\n\nAnd Nele, seeing how gentle Soetkin was, wept also and was very\nsorrowful. But Katheline, flourishing a piece of parchment that she\nheld in her hand, began to speak in this wise:\n\n\"Yes, yes. Strange things and wonderful have come to pass this\nnight! For he came to me, my good one, my beautiful. And no longer did\nhis face display that ghastly glitter which makes me so afraid. And it\nwas with a great tenderness in his voice that he addressed me. Yes,\nI was overcome with love for him, and my heart was melted within\nme. 'I am a rich man.' he told me, 'and soon I will bring thee a\nthousand florins in gold.' 'So be it,' I answered him. 'I rejoice for\nyour sake rather than for mine, Hanske, my pet.' 'But is there no one\nelse in your cottage,' he asked, 'that you love, perhaps, and would\nrejoice to see enriched by me also?' 'No,' I replied. 'They that live\nhere have no need of any help of thine.' 'You are proud, it seems,'\nhe answered. 'Soetkin and Ulenspiegel, are they then so rich as to\nneed nothing?' 'They live without the help of any,' I told him. 'In\nspite of the confiscations?' he asked. But then I laughed aloud, and\nsaid that he knew that they would not be such simpletons as to hide\ntheir treasure in the house where it could be easily found. 'Nor yet\nin the cellar?' he persisted. 'Of course not,' I told him. 'Nor yet in\nthe yard?' To that I answered not a word. 'Ah,' he said, 'that would\nindeed be a piece of imprudence.' 'Not so imprudent as all that,'\nI answered, 'for neither walls nor water have tongues.' And at that\nhe began laughing to himself. Presently he went away, earlier it was\nthan usual. But first he gave me a powder, telling me that if I took\nit I should be spirited away to the finest of all the Sabbaths. I\naccompanied him a little way just as I was, as far as the door of the\nyard, and I seemed half asleep, and soon I found myself, even as he\nhad told me, at the Witches' Sabbath, and I did not return from thence\nuntil the morning. Then it was that I found myself here as you see me,\nand discovered the dog with his throat cut, and the empty hole. And\nthis is a heavy blow to me, to me that loved him so tenderly, and had\ngiven to him my very soul. But whatsoever I have shall be yours, and\nI will labour with my hands and my feet to keep you alive, never fear.\"\n\nBut Soetkin said:\n\n\"I am become even as the corn beneath the grindstone. God and this\ndevil robber are heavy upon me both at once.\"\n\n\"Robber do you call him?\" cried Katheline. \"Speak not so. He is a\ndevil, a devil I say! And for proof I will show to you this parchment\nwhich he left behind him in the yard, and on it is written, 'Forget\nnot to serve me, and behold, in three times two weeks and five days I\nwill render thee back again twice as much again as the treasure I have\nnow taken from thee. Doubt not, or else thou wilt surely die.' And oh,\"\ncried Katheline, \"of a surety he will keep his word!\"\n\n\"Poor mad thing,\" said Soetkin.\n\nAnd this was the only word of reproach that she uttered.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXLVIII\n\n\nSix months passed, and the devil lover came no more. Nevertheless\nKatheline did not live without hope of seeing her Hanske again.\n\nSoetkin meanwhile had given up her work altogether, and was always to\nbe found sitting huddled up in front of the fire; and her cough never\nleft her. Nele provided the choicest and most sweetly smelling herbs,\nbut no remedy had any power over her. As for Ulenspiegel, he never\nleft the cottage for fear that his mother might die while he was out.\n\nAt last there came a time when the widow could neither eat nor drink\nwithout being sick. The surgeon (who also carried on the trade of\na barber) came to bleed her, and when the blood had been taken away\nshe was so enfeebled that she could not leave her chair. And at last\nthe evening came when she cried out, all wasted with pain:\n\n\"Claes! Husband! And Tyl, my son! Thanks be to God for He taketh me!\"\n\nAnd with a sigh she died.\n\nKatheline did not dare to watch by that bed of death, so Nele and\nUlenspiegel kept watch together, and all night long they prayed for\nher that was gone.\n\nAs the dawn broke a swallow came flying in by the open window.\n\nNele said: \"The bird of souls! It is a good omen. Soetkin is in\nheaven!\"\n\nThe swallow flew three times round the room, and departed with a\ncry. Then there came a second swallow, larger it was and darker than\nthe first. It fluttered around Ulenspiegel, and he said:\n\n\"Father and mother, the ashes beat upon my breast. Whatsoever you\ncommand me, that will I do.\"\n\nAnd the second swallow went off with a cry, just as the first had\ndone. And Ulenspiegel saw thousands of swallows skimming over the\nfields. And the sun rose.\n\nAnd Soetkin was buried in the cemetery of the poor.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXLIX\n\n\nAfter the death of Soetkin Ulenspiegel grew dreamy, sorrowful,\nand angry, and he would wander about the fields, hearing nothing,\ntaking what food or drink was put before him, and never choosing for\nhimself. And oftentimes he rose from his bed in the middle of the\nnight and went out into the country alone.\n\nIn vain did the gentle voice of Nele urge him not to despair, in\nvain did Katheline assure him that Soetkin was now in Paradise with\nClaes. To both alike Tyl answered:\n\n\"The ashes beat upon my breast.\"\n\nAnd he was as one mad, and Nele was sorrowful because of him.\n\nMeanwhile, Grypstuiver the fishmonger dwelt alone in his house, like\na parricide, daring only to come out in the evening. For if any man\nor woman passed him on the road they would shout after him and call\nhim \"murderer.\" And the little children ran away when they saw him,\nfor they had been told that he was a hangman. So he wandered about by\nhimself, not venturing to enter any of the taverns that are in Damme,\nfor the finger of scorn was pointed at him, and if ever he stood in\nthe bar for a minute, they that were drinking there left the tavern.\n\nThe result was that no innkeeper desired him as a customer any more,\nand whenever he presented himself at their houses they would shut\nthe door on him. The fishmonger would make a humble remonstrance,\nbut they answered that they had a licence to sell wine certainly,\nbut that they were not obliged to sell it against their will.\n\nThe fishmonger grew impatient at this, and in future when he wanted\na drink he would go to the In 't Roode Valck--at the sign of the Red\nFalcon--a little cabaret outside the town on the banks of the Sluys\ncanal. There they served him, for they were hard up at that inn, and\nglad to get anything from any one. But even so, the innkeeper never\nentered into conversation with him, nor did his wife either. Now\nin that house there were also two children and a dog; but when the\nfishmonger made as though he would kiss the children they ran away,\nand the dog, when he called him, tried to bite him.\n\nOne evening Ulenspiegel was standing on his doorstep in a dream, and\nMathyssen, the cooper, happening to pass by, saw him standing there,\nand said to him:\n\n\"If you worked with your hands belike you would forget this grievous\nblow.\"\n\nBut Ulenspiegel answered: \"The ashes of Claes beat upon my breast.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said Mathyssen, \"there lives a man who is sadder even than you\nare--Grypstuiver the fishmonger. None speaks to him, and all avoid him,\nso much so that when he wants his pint of bruinbier he is forced to\ngo out all alone to the poor folk of the Roode Valck. Verily he is\nwell punished.\"\n\n\"The ashes beat....\" Ulenspiegel answered him again.\n\nAnd the same evening, when the bells of Notre Dame were sounding\nthe ninth hour, Ulenspiegel sallied forth towards the Roode Valck,\nbut failing to find the fishmonger there as he had expected, he went\nwandering along under the trees that grow by the canal-side. It was\na bright moonlight night.\n\nPresently he saw the figure of the murderer coming towards him. He\npassed close in front of Ulenspiegel, who could hear what he was\nsaying, for the fishmonger was talking to himself, as is the custom\nof they who live much alone.\n\n\"Where have they hidden it?\" he muttered. \"Where have they hidden\nthe money?\" But Ulenspiegel answered the question for him by giving\nhim a great blow in the face.\n\n\"Alas!\" cried the fishmonger as he felt the hand of Ulenspiegel upon\nhim. \"Alas, I know you! You are his son! But have pity on me. Have\npity! For I am weak and aged, and what I did to your father was not\ndone out of malice, but in the service of His Majesty. Only deign to\nforgive me, and I will give you back again all the goods that I have\nbought, and you shall not pay me a penny. You shall have everything,\nand half a florin over and above, for I am not a rich man. No, you\nmust not think that I am rich!\"\n\nAnd he was about to kneel down in front of Ulenspiegel. But seeing\nhim so ugly, so craven, and so base, Ulenspiegel took hold of him\nand threw him into the canal.\n\nAnd he went away.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nL\n\n\nAnd from many a funeral pyre there ascended to heaven the smoke from\nthe flesh of the victims, and Ulenspiegel, thinking ever upon Claes\nand Soetkin, wept in his loneliness.\n\nAt last, one evening, he went to find Katheline, thinking to inquire\nof her some way of remedy or revenge.\n\nShe was alone with Nele, sewing by the light of the lamp. At the sound\nwhich Ulenspiegel made as he came in, Katheline raised her head slowly\nlike one that is awakened from a heavy sleep.\n\nHe said: \"The ashes of Claes beat upon my breast, and I am fain to\ndo somewhat to save this land of Flanders. But what can I do? I have\nentreated the great God of earth and heaven, but he has answered\nme nothing.\"\n\nKatheline said: \"The great God cannot hear you. First of all you\nshould have recourse to the spirits of the elemental world, for they,\nuniting in themselves two natures, both celestial and terrestrial, are\nenabled to receive the plaints of men and hand them on unto the angels,\nwho themselves in their turn carry them up thereafter to the Throne.\"\n\n\"Help me,\" he said, \"only help me now, and I will repay you with my\nblood if need be.\"\n\n\"I can help you,\" said Katheline, \"on one condition only: that a girl\nwho loves you is willing to take you with her to the Sabbath of the\nSpirits of Spring, which is the Easter of Fruitfulness.\"\n\n\"I will take him,\" said Nele.\n\nWhereupon Katheline took a crystal goblet and poured into it a certain\nmixture of a greyish colour, and she gave it to them both to drink, and\nrubbed their temples with this mixture, and their nostrils likewise,\nand the palms of their hands, and their wrists, and she also caused\nthem to eat a pinch of white powder, and then she told them to gaze the\none at the other in such manner that their two souls might become one.\n\nUlenspiegel looked at Nele, and straightway the sweet eyes of the\ngirl illumined in him a mighty flame, and because of the mixture he\nhad taken he felt as it were a thousand crabs nipping his skin all\nover him.\n\nAfter that Nele and Ulenspiegel undressed, and very beautiful they\nlooked in the lamplight, he in the pride of his manly strength, and\nshe in all her youthful grace and sweetness. But they were not able to\nsee one another, for already it was as though they were asleep. Then\nKatheline rested the neck of Nele upon the arm of Ulenspiegel, and\ntaking his hand she placed it upon the young girl's heart. And there\nthey stayed, all naked, lying side by side. And to both of them it\nseemed that their bodies, where they touched, were made of tender fire,\nlike the sun itself in the month of roses.\n\nThen, as they afterwards related, they climbed together on to the\nwindow-sill, whence they threw themselves out into space, and felt\nthe air all round them, buoying them up as the waters buoy up the\nships at sea.\n\nThereafter they lost all consciousness, seeing naught of earth where\nslept poor mortals, nor yet of heaven whose clouds were rolling now\nbeneath their feet; for now they had set their feet upon Sirius,\nthe frozen star, and from thence again they were flung upon the Pole.\n\nThere it was that a fearful sight awaited them, a giant all naked,\nthe Giant Winter. His hair was wild and tawny, and he was seated on an\nice-floe, with his back resting against a wall of ice. Near by in the\npools of water there disported a host of bears and seals, bellowing all\nround him. In a hoarse voice the giant summoned to his presence the\nhail-storms and the snow-storms and the icy showers; also there came\nat his behest the grey clouds and brown odorous mists, and the winds\namong whom is the sharp north wind, he that blows the strongest of\nall. Such were the terrors that raged together in that place of bane.\n\nBut smiling in the midst, the giant reclined on a bed of flowers\nthat had been withered by his own hand, and of leaves dried by his\nvery breath. Then, leaning down and scratching the ground with his\nfinger-nails, and biting it with his teeth, the giant began to burrow\na great pit. For he wanted to discover the heart of the earth to\ndevour it, and to put the blackened coal where once there had been\nshady forests, and chaff where once had been corn, and barren sand\nin place of fruitful soil. But old earth's heart was made of fire,\nso that he dared not touch it but recoiled therefrom in dread.\n\nThere he sat like a king upon his throne, draining his horn of oil. All\nround him were his bears and seals, and the skeletons of those whom\nhe had killed on the high seas or on the dry land or in the cottages\nof the poor. He listened joyfully to the roaring of the bears, to the\nbraying of the seals, and to the sound made by the skeletons of men\nand animals as the bones clicked together beneath the claws of the\ncrows and vultures that came for the last remaining piece of flesh\nthat might still adhere to them. And sweet also to his ears was the\nnoise the ice-floes made as they were driven one against another by\nthe waves of that dreary sea.\n\nAnd when he spoke, the voice of the giant was even as the roaring of\na hurricane or as the noise of winter storms, or as the wind howling\nin the chimneys.\n\n\"I am cold and afraid,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"He is powerless against immortal souls,\" said Nele.\n\nEven as she spoke a great commotion arose among the seals, who began\nto rush back into the sea with all haste. And it was apparent that\nthe bears also were afraid for they lay back their ears and began to\nbellow most piteously. As for the crows and ravens, they cawed as\nthough they were in terror of their lives, and started off to hide\nthemselves among the clouds.\n\nAnd now it was that Nele and Ulenspiegel first began to hear a sound\nas of a mighty battering-ram beating upon the farther side of that\nglassy wall against which Giant Winter had been reclining. And the\nwall cracked visibly and shook to its foundations. But of all this\nGiant Winter heard nothing at all, for he went on baying and bellowing\nmost joyfully, filling and emptying again and again his bowl of oil,\nand continuing his search for the heart of the earth, that he might\nfreeze it to nothing, although, forsooth, whenever he found that fiery\ncentre he always lacked the courage so much as to take it in his hand!\n\nMeanwhile the blows of the battering-ram resounded heavier and louder,\nand the crack in the wall of ice grew broader every second, and all\naround the giant, the rain of icicles ceased not to fall in myriad\nfragments. And the bears roared ceaselessly and piteously, and the\nseals sent up their plaintive cries from the dreary waste of water.\n\nSuddenly the wall gave way, and from the bright sky beyond it a man\ndescended. Naked he was, most beautiful of aspect, holding in one of\nhis hands a hatchet of pure gold. This was Lucifer, the light-bringer,\nLord of the Spring.\n\nWhen Giant Winter saw him he immediately cast away his bowl of oil\nand entreated the new-comer to spare at least his life. But at the\nfirst warm breath of Spring, Giant Winter lost all his strength,\nand Lucifer was able to bind him with a chain of diamonds, and tie\nhim securely to the Pole.\n\nThen, standing still, the Lord of the Spring most tenderly and\namorously cried aloud, and from the heavens there descended a woman,\nnaked also, and most fair, most beautiful. She stood beside her lord,\nand spake to him:\n\n\"You are my conqueror, strong man.\"\n\nAnd thus he answered her:\n\n\"If you are hungry, eat; if you are thirsty, drink; if you are afraid,\ncome near to me. I am your mate.\"\n\n\"I have no hunger, no thirst, but for thee alone,\" she said.\n\nThen the Lord of the Spring called out yet seven times and again. Most\ntremendous was his voice, and there was a mighty din of thunder and\nlightning, and behind him there came into being a kind of dais all\nmade of suns and stars. And the lord and his lady sat them down on\ntwo thrones.\n\nThen these twain, their countenances remaining still and motionless,\nand without the least tremor to spoil the calmness of their majesty and\ntheir power, both together cried aloud. And at that sound there was\na movement in the earth like that of a countless multitude of worms,\nand not in the earth only but in the hard stone and in the ice-floes\nalso. And Nele and Ulenspiegel heard a sound like that which might\nbe made by gigantic birds trying to crack with their beaks the great\nimprisoning egg-shells wherein they were concealed. And amid this\ngreat commotion of the earth, heaving and subsiding like the waves\nof the sea, there appeared forms like those of eggs.\n\nAnd suddenly, on all sides, trees emerged, their bare branches all\nentangled together, and their stems shaking and tottering together\nlike drunken men, which began to separate themselves the one from the\nother, leaving empty spaces of earth between. And now from the ever\nrestless soil there emerged the Spirits of Earth, and from the depths\nof the forest the Spirits of the Woods, and from the neighbouring sea,\nnow cleared of ice, the Spirits of the Water.\n\nAnd Nele and Ulenspiegel could discern the guardian spirits of all\nthese wonders. Dwarfs there were, men of the woods that lived like\ntrees and carried, instead of mouths and stomachs, little clusters of\nroots sprouting from below the face to the end that they might suck\ntheir nourishment from the bosom of mother earth. Lords of the mines\nthere were as well, they that know no speech, and are destitute of\nheart or entrails, and move about like glittering automatons. There\ncame also the dwarfs of flesh and bone, little fellows with lizards'\ntails and the heads of toads, and a lantern on their head for\nhead-gear. These are they that leap by night upon the shoulder of the\ndrunken wayfarer or the tired traveller, and then jump down again,\nwaving their lanterns the while so as to lead into marsh or ditch\nthat hapless wight who thinks the light he sees is a candle set to\nbeacon his way home.\n\nThere came too the Girl-Flower spirits, blossoms they of womanly\nhealth and strength. Naked they were and unashamed, glorying in their\nbeauty, and having nothing to cover them but their hair. The eyes of\nthese maids shone liquid like mother-of-pearl seen through water;\nthe flesh of their bodies was firm, white, and glittering in the\nsunshine; and from half-opened ruby lips their breath wafted down\nmore balmy than jasmine.\n\nThese are the maids that wander at eventide in the parks or gardens of\nthe world, or belike in the shady paths of some woodland glade. Amorous\nthey are, searching ever for some soul of man to possess it for\nthemselves. And whenever some mortal lad and lass come walking their\nway, they try to kill the girl, but failing in this they breathe a\nbreath of love upon the doubting damsel, so that she fears no longer\nto abandon herself to the delights of love, but gives herself to her\nlover. For then the Girl-Flower is permitted to take her share of\nthe kisses.\n\nBesides all this, Nele and Ulenspiegel could see descending now\nfar from heaven the Guardian Spirits of the Stars, the Spirits of\nthe Winds, of the Breezes, and of the Rain: young, winged men that\nfertilize the earth. And there appeared from every point in the heavens\nthe soul-birds, the dear swallows. At their coming the light itself\nseemed to grow brighter, and the girl-flowers, the lords of the rocks,\nthe princes of the mines, the men of the woods, the spirits of water,\nfire, and earth, all cried out with one voice, \"O Light, O sap of\nSpring, Glory to the Spirit of Spring!\" And though the sound of all\nthis shouting was more powerful than the noise of a raging sea, or of a\nthunder-storm, or of a hurricane let loose, yet it seemed most solemn\nmusic to the ears of Nele and Ulenspiegel, who stood, motionless and\ndumb, curled up behind the gnarled and wrinkled stem of a mighty oak.\n\nBut sights more terrible yet awaited them, for now the spirits took\ntheir places by thousands upon the backs of gigantic spiders, and toads\nwith trunks like those of elephants, and serpents all intertwined,\nand crocodiles that stood upright on their tails and held a whole bevy\nof spirits in their mouths. Snakes, too, there were that carried more\nthan thirty dwarfs at a time, both male and female, sitting astride\non their writhing bodies; and thousands upon thousands of insects,\nmore huge than Goliath himself, armed with swords, lances, jagged\nscythes, seven-pronged forks, and every other kind of murderous and\nhorrifying implement. Great was the uproar, and stern the battle\nwhich they fought amongst themselves, the strong eating up the weak\nand getting fat thereon, thus demonstrating how death is ever born\nfrom life, and life from death.\n\nAnd out of all this throng of spirits, confused and serried, there came\na sound as of a deep rumbling of thunder, or of a hundred looms, of\nweavers, fullers, and locksmiths, all working together in full swing.\n\nAnd suddenly the Spirits of the Sap made their appearance on the\nscene. Short they were, and squat, and their loins were as large as\nthe great barrel of Heidelberg itself. And their thighs were fat\nlike hogsheads of wine, and their muscles so strangely strong and\npowerful that one would have said that their bodies were made of\nnaught but eggs, eggs big and little, joined up to one another, and\ncovered over with a kind of ruddy skin, strong and glistening like\ntheir scanty beards and tawny hair. And they carried great tankards\nor goblets that were filled with a strange liquor.\n\nWhen the other spirits saw them coming, there at once arose among\nthem a great flutter of joy. The trees and the plants became the\nvictims of a strange restlessness, and the thirsty earth opened in\na thousand fissures that it might drink of the liquor.\n\nAnd the Spirits of the Sap poured out their wine, and at the same\nmoment everything began to bud, and to grow green, and to come\ninto flower; and the sward was alive with buzzing insects, and the\nsky was filled with birds and butterflies. The spirits, meanwhile,\ncontinued pouring out their sap, and those below them received the\nwine as they best were able: the girl-flowers opening their mouths and\nleaping upon the tawny cup-bearers and kissing them for more; others\nclasping their hands in prayer; yet others, in their delight, allowing\nthe precious liquid to rain upon them as it would; but all alike,\nhungry and thirsty, flying, standing still, running, or motionless,\nall greedy for the wine, and more alive for every drop they were able\nto get. And none was there so old, whether he were plain or handsome,\nbut he was filled with fresh force and with new and lusty youth.\n\nAnd with great shouting and laughing they pursued each other among\nthe trees like squirrels, or in the air like birds, each male seeking\nhis female, and acting out beneath God's open sky the sacred task\nof nature.\n\nAnd the Spirits of the Sap brought to the King and Queen a mighty bowl\nbrimming with their wine. And the King and the Queen drank thereof,\nand embraced one another. And the King, holding the Queen fast in\nhis arms, threw the dregs of that bowl far away upon the trees and\nflowers and all the other spirits that were there. And loud did he\nraise his voice, crying:\n\n\"Glory to Life! Glory to the free air! Glory to Force!\"\n\nAnd all with one voice cried aloud: \"Glory to Nature! Glory to Life!\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel took Nele in his arms. And thus entwined, a dance\nbegan, an eddying dance like that of leaves in a whirlwind; and in\nthat vortex everything was swinging together, both trees and plants,\nand insects, the butterflies, heaven and earth itself, the King and\nhis Queen, the girl-flowers and the lords of the mines, spirits\nof the water, hunchbacked dwarfs, lords of the rocks, men of the\nwoods, will-o'-the-wisps, guardian spirits of the stars, and the\nthousand thousand terrible insects all commingled with their lances,\ntheir jagged swords, their seven-pronged forks. A giddy dance it was,\nrolling in the space which it filled, a dance wherein the very sun and\nmoon took part, and the stars and planets, the clouds, and the winds.\n\nAnd in that whirlwind the oak to which Nele and Ulenspiegel were\nclinging rolled over on its side, and Ulenspiegel said to Nele:\n\n\"We are going to die, little one....\"\n\nThese words of Ulenspiegel one of the spirits overheard, and seeing\nthat they were mortals:\n\n\"Men!\" he cried. \"Men, here?\"\n\nAnd he dragged them from the tree to which they clung, and cast them\ninto the very midst of the crowd. But they fell softly on the backs of\nthe spirits, who passed them on one to another, bidding them welcome\nin such terms as these:\n\n\"All hail to man! All hail, worms of the earth! Who is there now would\nlike to see a young mortal, a boy or a little girl? Poor wights that\nare come to pay us a visit!\"\n\nNele and Ulenspiegel flew from one to the other, crying \"Mercy!\" But\nthe spirits payed no attention to them, and they were suffered to go\non flying about, legs in air, heads downwards, whirling about like\nfeathers in a winter wind. And all the time the spirits were saying:\n\n\"Hail to the little men and little women! Come dance like us!\" Now\nthe girl-flowers desired to separate Nele from Ulenspiegel, and they\nwould have beaten her to death had not the King of the Spring stopped\nthe dance suddenly with a single gesture.\n\n\"Bring them to me,\" he cried; \"bring before me these two lice!\" So\nthey were separated the one from the other, each girl-flower doing\nall she could to tear Ulenspiegel from her rival, saying:\n\n\"Tyl, Tyl, wouldst not die to have me?\"\n\n\"I shall die soon enough,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd the dwarfish spirits of the woods that carried Nele said to her\nalso: \"Why are you not a spirit like us that we might take you?\"\n\nAnd Nele answered: \"Only have patience.\"\n\nSo they came at length before the throne of the King, and when they\nsaw his golden axe and his crown of iron they began to tremble with\nfear. And he asked them:\n\n\"Wherefore have you come to see me, poor little things?\"\n\nBut they answered him not at all.\n\n\"I know you,\" added the King, \"you bud of a witch, and you also,\nshoot of a charcoal-burner. By power of sorcery have you penetrated\ninto this laboratory of Nature, yet now your lips are closed like\ncapon stuffed with bread-crumbs!\"\n\nNele trembled as she gazed upon the awful aspect of that spirit. But\nthe manly courage of Ulenspiegel revived, and he made answer bravely:\n\n\"The ashes of Claes beat upon my breast. For, Most Divine Highness,\nDeath now goes gathering his harvest through all the land of Flanders,\nmowing down the bravest of her men and the sweetest of her women\nin the name of His Holiness the Pope. And the privileges of my\ncountry are broken, her charters annulled, she is wasted by famine,\nher weavers and cloth-workers abandon her to look for work in other\nlands. And soon must she die if none comes to her aid. Your Highness,\nI am naught indeed but a poor little chit of a man that has come into\nthe world like any other, and I have lived as I was able, imperfect,\nlimited on every side, ignorant, neither virtuous nor chaste, and most\nunworthy of any grace, human or divine. Yet my mother Soetkin died as\nthe result of torture and grief, and Claes was burned in a terrible\nfire, and I have sworn to avenge them. Once I have been able to do\nthis. But now I long to see the miserable soil of my native land\nmade happy, the soil where the bones of my parents lie scattered;\nand I have asked of God the death of our persecutors, but not yet has\nHe heard my prayer. This is why, all weary of my complaining, I have\nevoked your presence by the power of Katheline's charm, and this is\nwhy we are come to you, I and my trembling comrade here, to fall at\nyour feet and to beg you, Most Divine Highness, to save our poor land!\"\n\nTo this the King and his illustrious companion as with one voice\nmade answer:\n\n\n By battle and fire,\n By death and sword,\n Seek the Seven.\n\n In death and blood,\n Ruin and tears,\n Find the Seven.\n\n Ugly, cruel, wicked, deformed,\n Very scourge of the whole earth,\n Burn the Seven.\n\n Listen now, attend and see,\n Tell us, poor thing, are you not glad?\n Find the Seven.\n\n\nAnd all the spirits sang now together:\n\n\n In death and blood,\n In ruin and tears,\n Find the Seven.\n\n Listen now, attend and see,\n Tell us, poor thing, are you not glad?\n Find the Seven.\n\n\nBut Ulenspiegel only said:\n\n\"Your Highness, and you my Lords Spirits, I understand nothing of\nyour language. You are mocking me, without a doubt.\"\n\nBut the spirits, without listening to him at all, went on with their\nsinging:\n\n\n When the North\n Shall kiss the West,\n Then shall be the end of ruin.\n Find the Seven,\n And the Cincture.\n\n\nAnd they sang with such an effect of unanimity and such a terrifying\nforce of sound that the very earth trembled and the heavens\nshuddered. And the birds twittered, the owls hooted, the sparrows\nchirruped with fear, the sea-eagles wailed aloud, flying hither and\nthither in their dismay. And all the animals of the earth, lions,\nsnakes, bears, stags, roe-bucks, wolves, dogs, and cats, roared,\nhissed, belled, howled, barked, and miawed most terribly.\n\nAnd the spirits kept on singing:\n\n\n Listen now, attend and see,\n Love the Seven,\n And the Cincture.\n\n\nAnd the cocks crowed, and all the spirits vanished away, excepting\nonly one wicked lord of the mines, who took Nele and Ulenspiegel each\nin one of his arms, and cast them most roughly into the void.\n\nThen they awoke and found themselves lying by each other, as if they\nhad been asleep, and they shivered in the chill morning air.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel beheld the sweet body of Nele, all golden in the\nlight of the rising sun.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nHERE BEGINS THE SECOND BOOK OF THE LEGEND OF THE GLORIOUS JOYOUS AND\nHEROIC ADVENTURES OF TYL ULENSPIEGEL AND LAMME GOEDZAK IN THE LAND\nOF FLANDERS AND ELSEWHERE\n\n\nI\n\n\nOne morning in September Ulenspiegel took his staff, three florins\nthat had been given him by Katheline, a piece of pig's liver and a\nslice of bread, and set out to go from Damme to Antwerp, seeking the\nSeven. Nele he left asleep.\n\nOn the way he met a dog who followed after him, smelling around\nbecause of the liver, and jumping up at his legs. Ulenspiegel would\nhave driven off the dog, but seeing the persistence of the animal,\nhe thus addressed him:\n\n\"My dear dog, you are certainly ill-advised to leave your home,\nwhere you would find awaiting you an excellent meal of patties and\nother fine remains (to say nothing of the marrow-bones), to follow,\nas you are now doing, a mere adventurer of the road, a vagabond that is\nlike to lack so much as a root to give you for nourishment. Follow my\nadvice, most imprudent little dog, and return to your innkeeper. And\nfor the future, take good care to avoid the rain and snow, the hail,\nthe drizzling mists, the glassy frosts and other such wretched fare\nas is alone reserved for the back of the poor wanderer. Keep close at\nhome, rather, in a corner of the hearth, and warm yourself, curled up\nin front of the cheerful fire. But leave to me the long wandering in\nmud and dust, in cold and heat, to be roasted to-day, to-morrow frozen,\nplenished on Friday but on Sunday famished for want of food. For,\ntrust me, little dog, the wise thing is to return at once like a\nsensible and experienced little dog to the place whence you came.\"\n\nBut it would seem that the animal did not hear a single word of what\nUlenspiegel was saying, for he continued to wag his tail and jump his\nhighest, barking all the while, in his desire for food. Ulenspiegel\nimagined that all this was just a sign of friendliness, and gave no\nthought to the liver which he carried in his scrip.\n\nSo on and on he walked, with the dog following behind. And when\nthey had gone in this way the better part of a league, they saw a\ncart on the roadside with a donkey harnessed thereto, holding his\nhead down. On a bank, at the side of the road, between two clumps of\nthistles, reclined a man. He was very fat, and in one hand he held the\nknuckle-end of a leg of mutton, and in the other hand a bottle. He\ngnawed the knuckle-bone and drank from the bottle, but when he was\ndoing neither of these things he would fall to weeping and groaning.\n\nUlenspiegel stopped on his way, and the dog stopped too, but quickly\njumped up on to the bank, smelling doubtless a good odour of liver and\nmutton. There he sat on his hind legs by the fat man's side, and began\nto paw at the stranger's doublet, as much as to say, \"Please give me\na share of your meal!\" But the man elbowed him off, and holding up\nthe knuckle-bone in the air began to moan aloud most piteously. The\ndog did likewise in the eagerness of his desire, while the donkey\n(who was weary of being tied to the cart and thus prevented from\ngetting at the thistles) set up, in his turn, a most piercing bray.\n\n\"What's the matter now, Jan?\" the man inquired of his donkey.\n\n\"Nothing,\" said Ulenspiegel, answering for him, \"except that he would\nfain make his breakfast off those thistles that grow there on either\nside of you, like the thistles that are carved on the rood-screen at\nTessenderloo, below the figure of Our Lord. Nor would this dog here,\nI'm thinking, be any the less inclined to join his jaws together on\nthe bone you have got there. But in the meanwhile I will give him a\npiece of this liver of mine.\"\n\nThe man looked up at Ulenspiegel, who straightway recognized him as\nnone other than his friend Lamme Goedzak of Damme.\n\n\"Lamme,\" he cried, \"you here? And what are you doing, eating and\ndrinking and moaning? Has some soldier or other been so impertinent\nas to box your ears, or what's the matter? Tell me.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said Lamme, \"my wife!\"\n\nAnd he would have emptied his bottle of wine there and then had not\nUlenspiegel laid a hand on his arm and suggested that it were fairer\nthat the drink should be given to him that had none. \"Besides,\" he\nadded, \"to drink thus distractedly profits naught but one's kidneys.\"\n\n\"Well said,\" answered Lamme, handing his friend the bottle, \"but will\nyou drink, I wonder, to any better purpose?\"\n\nUlenspiegel took the bottle, drank his fill, then handed it back again.\n\n\"Call me a Spaniard,\" he said, \"if I've left enough to make a minnow\ndrunk!\"\n\nLamme inspected the bottle. Then, without ever ceasing to groan,\nhe rummaged in his wallet and produced another bottle, and another\npiece of sausage which he cut up in slices and began to munch in the\nmost melancholy fashion.\n\n\"Do you never stop eating, Lamme?\" asked Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Often, my son,\" he replied. \"But now I am eating to drive away sad\nthoughts. Where are you, wife of mine?\" And as he spoke, Lamme wiped\naway a tear. After which he cut himself ten slices of sausage.\n\n\"Lamme,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"you should not eat so quickly, taking no\nthought at all for the poor pilgrim.\"\n\nLamme, who was still whimpering, gave four of the slices to\nUlenspiegel, who ate them up immediately, and was much affected by\ntheir good flavour. But Lamme said, eating and crying all at the\nsame time:\n\n\"O wife, O goodly wife of mine! How sweet she was, how beautiful she\nwas! Light as a butterfly, nimble as the lightning, and with a voice\nlike a skylark! For all that, she was overfond of fine clothes. Alas,\nbut how well she looked in them! And surely, the flowers also, are\nthey not fond of rich apparel? Oh, if you had seen her, my son--her\nlittle hands, so nimble to caress, such hands as you never could\nhave suffered to come in contact with saucepan or frying-pan! And\nher complexion, which was clear as the day, would surely have been\nburnt by standing over the kitchen fire. And what eyes she had! Only\nto look at them was to be melted quite with tenderness. Alas, I have\nlost her! Go on eating, Tyl; it is good Ghent sausage.\"\n\n\"But why has she left you?\" asked Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"How should I know?\" Lamme replied. \"Alas! gone for ever are those\ndays when I used to go to her home a-courting! Then, verily, she would\nfly away from me, half in love and half in fear! And her arms were\nbare, as like as not (beautiful arms they were, so round and white),\nbut if she saw me looking at them she would cover them quickly with\nthe sleeve of her gown.\n\n\"At other times, again, she would gladly lend herself to my caresses,\nand I would kiss her closed eyes, and that lovely neck of hers, so\nlarge and firm. She would shiver all over, uttering little cries of\nlove, and then, leaning her head backwards, she would give me a playful\nslap upon my nose. Thereafter she would laugh and I would cry aloud,\nand we would wrestle together right amorously, and there was naught\nbetwixt us but laughter and fun. But there, there. Is any wine left\nin the bottle, Tyl?\"\n\nTyl gave him what remained.\n\n\"This ham does great good to my stomach,\" he said.\n\n\"To mine also,\" answered Lamme, \"but I shall never see my dear one\nagain. She has fled away from Damme. What say you, will you come with\nme in my cart to look for her?\"\n\n\"That will I,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nSo they got up into the donkey-cart, and the donkey set up a most\nmelancholy bray to celebrate their departure.\n\nAs for the dog, he had already made off, well filled, without a word\nto any one.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nWhile the cart went lumbering along on the top of the dike, with the\npond on one side and the canal on the other, Ulenspiegel sat brooding\non the past and cherishing in his bosom the ashes of Claes. He pondered\ndeeply upon that vision he had seen, and asked himself if indeed it\nwere true or false, and if those spirits of Nature had been making mock\nof him, or if perchance they had been revealing to him under a figure\nthose things that must be done if the land of his fathers were to be\nrestored. In vain did he turn the matter over and over in his mind,\nfor he could not discover what was meant by those words, the \"Seven\"\nand the \"Cincture.\" He called to mind the late Emperor Charles V,\nthe present King, the Governess of the Netherlands, the Pope of Rome,\nthe Grand Inquisitor, and last of all, the General of the Jesuits--six\ngreat persecutors of his country whom most willingly would he have\nburned alive had he been able. But he was forced to conclude that\nnone of these was the personage indicated, for that they were all too\nobviously worthy of being burnt, and would be in another place. And\nhe could only go on repeating to himself those words of the Lord of\nthe Spring:\n\n\n When the North\n Shall kiss the West,\n Then shall be the end of ruin.\n Love the Seven,\n And the Cincture.\n\n\n\"Alas!\" he cried, \"in death, in blood, in tears, find the Seven, burn\nthe Seven, love the Seven! What does it all mean? My poor brain reels,\nfor who, pray, would ever want to burn that which he loved?\"\n\nThe cart by this time had progressed a good way along the road, when\nall at once a sound was heard of some one stepping along the sand,\nand of a voice singing:\n\n\n Oh, have ye seen him, ye that pass,\n The lover I have lost, alas!\n Feckless he wandereth, knowing no tie--\n Have ye seen him pass by?\n\n As tender lamb the eagle seizeth,\n So on my poor heart he feedeth.\n Beardless his chin, though to manhood nigh--\n Have ye seen him pass by?\n\n If ye find him, ye may tell\n Weary with following faints his Nele.\n O Tyl, my beloved, hear me, I cry!\n Have ye seen him pass by?\n\n Languisheth ever the faithful dove,\n Seeking, seeking her fickle love.\n So, far more so, languish I--\n Have ye seen him pass by?\n\n\nUlenspiegel gave Lamme a blow on his great belly, and told him to\nhold his breath.\n\n\"That,\" said Lamme, \"is a very difficult thing, I fear, for a man of\nmy corpulence.\"\n\nBut Ulenspiegel, paying no further attention to his companion, hid\nhimself behind the canvas hood of the cart, and began to sing in the\nvoice of a man with a bad cold that has drunk well:\n\n\n In a shaky old cart with age all green,\n Your feckless sweetheart I have seen;\n And a glutton rides with him, like pig in sty--\n I have seen him pass by.\n\n\n\"Tyl,\" said Lamme, \"you have a wry tongue in your cheek this morning!\"\n\nBut Tyl put his head out of a hole in the hood:\n\n\"Nele, don't you know me?\" he said.\n\nAnd Nele, for it was none other than she herself, was filled with fear,\ncrying and laughing all at the same time, and her cheeks were wet as\nshe answered him:\n\n\"I see you, and I know you, you wretch, you traitor!\"\n\n\"Nele,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"if you want to give me a beating, you will\nfind a stick in the cart here. It is heavy enough in all conscience,\nand knotted so that it will leave its mark right enough.\"\n\n\"Tyl,\" said Nele, \"are you seeking the Seven?\"\n\n\"Even so,\" Tyl told her.\n\nNow Nele carried with her a bag, or satchel, that was so full it\nseemed likely to burst. This satchel she offered to Tyl, saying:\n\n\"I thought it was unwholesome, Tyl, that a man should go on a journey\nwithout a good fat goose, and a ham, and some Ghent sausages. So take\nthem, and when you eat of them think of me.\"\n\nWhile Ulenspiegel stood gazing at Nele, quite oblivious of the satchel\nwhich she was holding out to him, Lamme poked out his head from\nanother hole in the hood, and began to address the girl in his turn.\n\n\"O girl most wise,\" he said, \"O girl most prudent, if he refuses\nsuch a gift it must be from pure absence of mind. But you had much\nbetter give into my own keeping that goose of yours, that ham, and\nthose fine sausages. I will take care of them, I promise you!\"\n\n\"And who,\" asked Nele of her lover, \"who may this red-face be?\"\n\n\"A victim of the married state,\" Tyl told her, \"that is wasting away\nwith sorrow, and would soon, in fact, shrink away to nothing, like\nan overbaked apple, were it not that he recuperated his strength from\ntime to time and all the time by taking nourishment.\"\n\n\"Alas, my son,\" sighed Lamme, \"what you say is only too true.\"\n\nNow it was very hot, and Nele had covered her head with her apron\nbecause of the sun. Ulenspiegel looked upon her, and conceived a\nsudden desire to be alone with her. He turned to Lamme, and pointed\nto a woman that was walking some way off in a field.\n\n\"Do you see that woman?\" he said.\n\n\"I see her,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"Do you recognize her?\"\n\n\"Heavens!\" cried Lamme, \"can it be my wife? In truth she is dressed\nlike no common country wench!\"\n\n\"Can you still be doubtful, you old mole?\"\n\n\"But supposing it were not her after all?\" said Lamme.\n\n\"You would be none the worse off,\" Ulenspiegel told him, \"for over\nthere to the left, towards the north, I know a tavern that sells most\nexcellent bruinbier. We will join you there, and here meanwhile is\nsome salt ham that will provide an excellent relish to your thirst.\"\n\nSo Lamme got down from the cart, and made off as fast as his legs\nwould carry him in the direction of the woman in the field.\n\nUlenspiegel said to Nele: \"Why will you not come near me?\"\n\nThen he helped her to climb up beside him on to the cart, and made\nher sit close by his side. He removed her apron from her head and the\ncloak from her shoulders, and then when he had kissed her a hundred\ntimes at least, he asked her:\n\n\"Where were you going to, beloved?\"\n\nShe answered him nothing, but seemed carried away in a sort of\necstasy. Ulenspiegel, in like rapture, said to her:\n\n\"Anyway you are here now! And truly the wild hedgerow is dun beside\nthe sweet pink colouring of your skin, and though you are no queen,\nbehold I will make a crown of kisses all for you! O sweet arms of\nmy love, so tender, so rosy, and made for nothing but to hold me\nin their embrace! Ah, little girl, little love, how dare I touch\nyou? These rough hands of mine, will they not tarnish the purity of\nyour white shoulder? Yea verily, for the lightsome butterfly may flit\nto rest upon the crimson carnation, but I, clumsy bumpkin that I am,\nhow can I rest myself without tarnishing the living whiteness that\nis you? God is in heaven, the king is on his throne, the sun rides\ntriumphing in the sky, but am I a god, or a king, or the sun himself\nthat I may come so close to you? O tresses softer than silk! O Nele,\nI fear to touch your hair, so clumsy am I, lest I tear it, lest I\nshred it all to pieces. But have no fear, my love. Your foot, your\nsweet foot! What makes it so white? Do you bathe it in milk?\"\n\nNele would have risen from his side, but,\n\n\"What are you afraid of?\" he asked her. \"It is not the sun alone that\nshines upon us now and paints you all gold. Do not cast down your\neyes, but look straight into mine, and behold the pure fire that\nflames there. And listen, my love, hearken to me, dearest. Now is\nmidday, the silent hour. The labourer is at home, eating his dinner\nof soup. Shall we not also feed upon our love? Oh why, oh why have I\nnot yet a thousand years wherein to tell at your knees my rosary of\nIndian pearls!\"\n\n\"Golden Tongue!\" she said.\n\nBut my Lord the Sun blazed down upon the white hood of the cart,\nand a lark sang high over the clover, and Nele leant her head upon\nthe shoulder of Ulenspiegel.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nAfter a while Lamme came back to the cart, great drops of sweat\npouring off him, and he, puffing and blowing like a dolphin.\n\n\"Alas!\" he cried, \"I was born under an evil star. For no sooner had\nI run and caught up with this woman than I found that she was not a\nwoman at all, but an old hag rather, as indeed I could see at once\nby her face--forty-five years old at the very least! And to judge by\nher head-gear she had never been married. For all that, she inquired\nof me in a harsh voice what I was doing there, carrying my great fat\nbelly about in the clover! I told her as politely as I could that I\nwas looking for my wife who had lately left me, and that I had run\nafter her by mistake.\n\n\"At that the old girl told me that the only thing for me to do was\nto return at once whence I came, and that if my wife had left me she\nhad indeed done well, seeing that all men are thieves and rascals,\nheretics, unfaithful, poisoners, and deceivers of women; and she\nthreatened to set her dog on me if I did not make off at once. Which\nin truth I did incontinently, for that I perceived a great mastiff\nlying there growling at her feet. When, therefore, I had reached the\nboundary of the field, I sat me down to rest myself and to eat a bit\nof ham. And I was between two clover-fields. Suddenly I heard a great\nnoise just behind me, and turning round I saw the old girl's mastiff,\nno longer now in menacing mood but wagging his tail as sweetly as\npossible and as much as to say that he was hungry and would like a\npiece of my ham. I was for throwing him some small bits when all at\nonce his mistress appeared on the scene, and shouted out fiercely:\n\n\"'Seize the man! Seize him with your fangs, my son!'\n\n\"I started to run away, the great mastiff hanging on to me by my\nbreeks. And now he had bitten off a piece of them, together with\na gobbet of my own flesh. The pain made me angry and I turned and\ngave him such a smart stroke with my stick upon his front paws\nthat I must have broken one of them at least. At that he fell down,\ncrying out in his dog language: 'Mercy! Mercy!' the which I granted\nhim. Meanwhile his mistress, finding no stones to throw at me, had\nbegun to threaten me with pieces of earth and bits of grass. So I\nmade good my retreat. And is it not a sorry thing, and a thing most\nunjust and most cruel, that because a girl has not been good-looking\nenough to find some one to marry her, she must needs go and take her\nrevenge on a poor innocent like me?\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nSome while after these happenings, when Nele had returned to her home\nwith Katheline, Lamme and Ulenspiegel came to Bruges. They were at\nthe place called Minne-Water, the Lake of Love--though the learned\nfolk would have it to be derived from Minre-Water, that is, the Water\nbelonging to the order of monks who are called Minims. Be this as it\nmay, here on the bank of the lake, Lamme and Ulenspiegel sat themselves\ndown, watching those that passed in front of them under the trees. The\ngreen branches hung over the pathway like a vault of foliage, and\nbelow there sauntered both men and women, youths and maids, clasping\neach other's hands, with flowers on their heads, walking so close\ntogether and gazing so tenderly into each other's eyes that they\nseemed to see nothing else in all the world save themselves alone.\n\nAs he watched them, the thoughts of Ulenspiegel were far away with\nNele, and his thoughts were sad thoughts. Yet his words were of\nanother colour, bidding Lamme come off with him to the tavern for\na drink. But Lamme paid no attention to what Tyl was saying, for he\nhimself was absorbed no less by the sight of those loving pairs.\n\n\"In the old days,\" he said, \"we too, my wife and I, were wont to go\na-courting, while others, just as we are now, would watch us, alone\nand companionless by the lake-side.\"\n\n\"Come and have a drink!\" said Ulenspiegel, \"Belike we will find the\nSeven at the bottom of a pint of beer.\"\n\n\"That's but a drunkard's notion,\" answered Lamme, \"for you know\nquite well that the Seven are giants, and taller than the roof of\nthe Church of St. Sauver itself!\"\n\nThe thoughts of Ulenspiegel were still with Nele, but none the less\ndid he hope to find, perchance, good quarters in some inn, a good\nsupper, and a comely hostess into the bargain. Again, therefore, did\nhe urge his companion to come along with him and drink. But Lamme\nwould not listen to him, gazing sadly at the tower of Notre Dame,\nand addressing himself in prayer to Our Lady somewhat in this wise:\n\n\"O Blessed Lady, patroness of all lawful unions, suffer me, I pray,\nto see yet once again the white neck, the soft and tender neck,\nof my love!\"\n\n\"Come and drink!\" cried Ulenspiegel. \"Belike you will find her\ndisplaying these charms of hers to the drinkers in the tavern.\"\n\n\"How dare you harbour such a thought!\" cried Lamme.\n\n\"Come and drink!\" repeated Ulenspiegel. \"Your wife has turned innkeeper\nwithout a doubt.\"\n\nAnd thus conversing, they repaired to the Marche du Samedi, and entered\ninto the Blauwe Lanteern--at the sign of the Blue Lantern. And there\nthey found a right jolly-looking innkeeper.\n\nThe donkey meanwhile was unharnessed from the cart, and was put up\nin the stables and provided with a good feed of oats. Our travellers\nthemselves ordered supper, and when they had eaten their fill, they\nwent to bed and slept soundly till morning, only to wake up and eat\nagain. And Lamme, who was wellnigh bursting with all that he had\neaten, said that he could hear in his stomach a sound like the music\nof the spheres.\n\nNow when the time came to pay the bill, mine host came to Lamme and\ntold him that the total amounted to six patards.\n\n\"He has the money,\" said Lamme, pointing to Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"No such thing,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"What about that half-florin?\" said Lamme.\n\n\"I haven't got it,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Here's a nice way of going on!\" cried the innkeeper. \"I shall strip\nyour doublet and shirt from the two of you!\"\n\nSuddenly Lamme took courage of all he had been drinking:\n\n\"And if I choose to eat and to drink,\" he cried, \"yea, to eat and\nto drink the worth of twenty-seven florins, and more, do you think\nI shall not do so? Do you think that this belly of mine is not the\nequal of a penny? God's life! Up to now I have fed on ortolans. But\nyou, never have you carried anything of that sort under your belt of\ngreasy hide. For you, you bad man, must needs carry your suet in the\ncollar of your doublet, far otherwise than I that bear three inches\nat least of delicate fat on this good belly of mine.\"\n\nAt this the innkeeper fell into a passion of rage, and though he was a\nstammerer he began to talk at a great rate, and the greater his haste\nthe more he stammered and spluttered like a dog that has just come\nout of the water. Ulenspiegel began to throw pellets of bread at him,\nand Lamme, growing more and more excited, continued his harangue in\nthe following strain:\n\n\"And now, what do you say? For here have I enough, and more than\nenough, to pay you for those three lean chickens forsooth, and those\nfour mangy poulets, to say nothing of that big simpleton of a peacock\nthat parades his paltry tail in the stable yard. And if your very\nskin was not more dry than that of an ancient cock, if your bones even\nnow were not falling to very dust within your breast, still should I\nhave the wherewithal to eat you up, you and your slobbering servant\nthere--your one-eyed serving-maid and your cook, whose arms are not\nlong enough to scratch himself though he had the itch! And do you see,\"\nhe continued, \"do you see this fine bird of yours that for the sake of\nhalf a florin would have deprived us of our doublet and our shirt? Say,\nwhat is your own wardrobe worth, preposterous chatterbox that you are;\nand I will give you three liards in exchange for the lot!\"\n\nBut the innkeeper, who by this time was beside himself with rage,\nstammered and spluttered more and more, while Ulenspiegel went on\nthrowing pellets of bread in his face, till Lamme at last cried out\nagain in a voice brave as a lion's:\n\n\"What's the value, think you, skinny-face, of a fine donkey with\na splendid nose, long ears, large chest, and legs as strong as\niron? Twenty-eight florins at the least, is it not so, most seedy of\ninnkeepers? And how many old nails have you, pray, locked fast away\nin your coffer, with which to pay the price of so fine an animal?\"\n\nMore than ever did the innkeeper puff and blow, yet dared not budge\nan inch from where he stood. And Lamme said again:\n\n\"And what is the value, think you, of a fine cart of ash-wood, finely\npainted in crimson, and furnished with a hood of Courtrai cloth for\nprotection from sun and rain? Twenty-four florins at the least, is\nit not so? And how much is twenty-four florins added to twenty-eight\nflorins? Answer that, you miser that cannot even count! And now,\nsince it is market day, and since your paltry tavern happens to be\nfull of peasants that are come to market, behold I will put up my\ncart to auction and my donkey too, and I will sell them here, now,\nand at once!\"\n\nWhich, in very truth, he did. For all they that were there knew very\nwell who Lamme was. And he actually realized from the sale of his\ndonkey and cart as much as forty-four florins and ten patards. And\nhe jingled the money under the innkeeper's nose, and said to him:\n\n\"Scent you not the savour of festivities to be?\"\n\n\"Yea,\" answered mine host. But under his breath he swore that\nif ever Lamme came to him and offered to sell him his very skin,\nhe would buy it for a liard and make of it an amulet for a charm\nagainst extravagance.\n\nMeanwhile there was a sweet and gentle-looking young woman that\nstood in the yard without, and she came up oftentimes to the window\nand looked at Lamme, but withdrew her pretty face each time that he\nmight have seen her. And the same evening, when Lamme was going up to\nbed, stumbling about on the staircase without any light (for he had\nbeen drinking not wisely), he was aware of a woman that put her arms\nround him, and greedily kissed his cheek and mouth and his nose even,\nand moistened his face with amorous tears, and then left him.\n\nBut Lamme, who was thoroughly drowsed by all that he had been drinking,\nlay down straightway and went to sleep; and on the morrow he departed\nto Ghent together with Ulenspiegel. There he went seeking his wife\nin all the cabarets and taverns of the town. But at nightfall he\nrejoined Ulenspiegel at the sign of the Singing Swan.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nNow King Philip was obstinate as a mule, and he thought that his\nown will ought to dominate the entire world as if it had been the\nwill of God himself. And his will was this: that our country, little\naccustomed as it was to obedience, should now curb itself under an\nancient yoke without obtaining any reforms at all. And the be-all\nand the end-all of his desire was the aggrandizement of that Holy\nMother of his, the Catholic Church, Apostolic and Roman, One, Entire,\nUniversal, changeless and unalterable, and this was his will for no\nother reason at all than just the fact that it was his will. And in\nthis he was like some woman without sense, that tosses about all night\nupon her bed as though it were a bed of thorns, endlessly tortured\nby her own imaginings.\n\n\"Yes,\" he would say, \"O most Holy Saint Philip, and you, O my Lord\nGod, if only I could turn the Low Countries into a common grave, and\ncast therein all the inhabitants of that country, then surely they\nwould return to Thee, my most blessed Patron, and to Thee, my Lady\nVirgin Mary, and to ye, my good masters, the saints and saintesses\nof Paradise!\"\n\nAnd he really tried to do as he said; so that he was more Roman than\nthe Pope and more Catholic than the Councils!\n\nAnd the people of Flanders and of the Low Countries began to grow\nanxious again, and to think that they could discern in the distance\nthis crowned spider, working in the sombre house of the Escurial,\nreaching out his long claws with their nippers open, and spreading\nwide the web in which he might enwrap them all and suck them white\nof their blood.\n\nUlenspiegel, for his part, went spreading the alarm wherever he could,\nand stirring up the people against the ravishers of his country and\nthe murderers of his parents.\n\nOne day, therefore, when he was in the Marche du Vendredi, near by\nthe Dulle-Griet--the Great Canon--Ulenspiegel lay flat down on his\nstomach in the middle of the road. A charcoal-burner who happened to\nbe passing came up and asked him what he was doing there.\n\n\"I am giving my nose a wetting,\" Ulenspiegel told him, \"so that I\nmay discover where this great wind is coming from.\"\n\nNext a carpenter came along.\n\n\"Do you take the pavement for a mattress?\" he asked.\n\n\"Before long,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"there are some that will be taking\nit for a counterpane.\"\n\nA monk came up and stopped by his side.\n\n\"What does this booby here?\"\n\n\"He entreats your blessing, lying flat at your feet,\" said\nUlenspiegel. The monk gave his blessing and went away. But Ulenspiegel\ncontinued where he was with his head pressed to the earth, till at\nlast a peasant came along and asked him what he was listening for. \"Do\nyou hear some noise or other?\" he said.\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Ulenspiegel. \"I hear the wood beginning to grow,\nthat wood whence many a faggot shall be made for the burning of\npoor heretics.\"\n\n\"Do you hear aught else?\" inquired a sergeant of the commune.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"I hear the men-at-arms that are on their way\nfrom Spain. If you have anything you wish to save, bury it now, for\nin a little while our cities will not be safe from thieves any more.\"\n\n\"The man is mad,\" said the sergeant.\n\nAnd the people of the town thought so too.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nNow in those days, day in, day out, King Philip of Spain was used\nto spend his time fingering old papers and scribbling and writing\non leaves of parchment. To these alone did he confide the secrets\nof his cruel heart, for he loved no man living, and knew that none\nloved him. For he desired to direct his great empire by himself alone,\nand like a weary Atlas he was bowed under that weight. Melancholy and\nphlegmatic by nature, this excess of work was consuming a body that\nwas already none too strong. Hating as he did every happy face, he\nhad begun to hate our land of Flanders, for its gaiety if for nothing\nelse. And he hated our merchants just because they were wealthy and\nluxurious, and he hated our nobility just because they were free in\nspeech and frank in manner, and because of the high ardour of their\nbravery and their jovial bearing. Neither had he forgotten the tale\nthat was told how, as early as the year 1380, the Cardinal de Cousa\nhad pointed out the abuses of the Church, and had preached the need\nof reformation, since which time the revolt against the Pope and\nthe power of Rome had begun to be manifest in our land, and was now,\nunder different forms and sects, rife in every head like water boiling\nin a kettle with the lid on.\n\nAnd although, under the Emperor Charles, the Papal Inquisition had\nalready been the death, by burning, burying alive, or hanging, of\nso many as a hundred thousand Christians, and although the property\nof these unfortunates had gone into the coffers of the Emperor and\nthe King like rain falling into a sink, Philip decided that this was\nnot enough, and now imposed on the country a new College of Bishops,\nand aspired to introduce into Flanders all the horrors of the Spanish\nInquisition.\n\nAnd the Town Heralds sounded their trumpets and their timbrels, and\ndeclaimed a proclamation to the effect that all heretics, whether\nmen, women, or girls, should be done to death. Those who would recant\ntheir heresies were to be hanged, but those who were obstinate were\nto be burnt at the stake. The women and girls were to be buried alive,\nand the executioner was to dance upon their dead bodies.\n\nAnd the flame of resistance began to burn and run through all the\ncountry.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\nIt was the fifth of April, just before Easter, and the Counts Louis of\nNassau, de Culembourg, and de Brederode (he that was surnamed Hercule\nthe Toper) were entering the courtyard of the palace of Brussels,\ntogether with three hundred gentlemen. They were come to seek an\naudience of the Governess of the Netherlands, Madame the Duchess of\nParma, and were mounting the great stairway of the palace four by four.\n\nComing at length into the hall where my Lady was seated they presented\ntheir petition, which entreated her to use her influence with King\nPhilip for the abolition of all those decrees which concerned religion\nand the introduction into Flanders of the Spanish Inquisition. This\npetition, which afterwards became known as \"The Compromise,\" also\ndeclared that in our already disaffected country such a policy as the\nintroduction of the Inquisition could only result in troubles of all\nkinds, ruin to the country, and universal misery.\n\nBerlaymont, who later on was to prove so treacherous and baneful to\nthe land of his birth, stood close by Her Highness, and mocked at the\npoverty of certain of the confederate nobles who had come to visit her.\n\n\"Have no fear, my Lady,\" he told her, \"they are nothing but beggars!\"\n\nAnd by these words he implied either that the said nobles had been\nruined in the service of the King, or else that they were eager to\nemulate the luxury of the great Lords of Spain. And thus it was that\nlater on these same nobles endeavoured to bring ridicule upon the\nwords of Berlaymont by saying that \"they held it indeed an honour to\nbe esteemed and spoken of as beggars--beggars for the good service of\nthe King and the advantage of these lands.\" And from that time they\nbegan to wear round their necks a golden medal carved with an effigy\nof the King. And on the obverse side of the medal were two hands\nclasped upon a beggar's wallet, with these words writ thereunder:\n\"To the King, faithful even unto beggary.\" On their hats and bonnets\nthey carried also little golden ornaments made in the form of beggars'\nhats and platters.\n\nAnd all this time Lamme went carrying his portly form about the town,\nseeking the wife that he never found.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\n\nOne morning Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:\n\n\"Come with me. Let us go and present our compliments to a certain\nhigh noble I wot of, a most renowned and powerful personage!\"\n\n\"Will he tell us where my wife is?\" asked Lamme.\n\n\"Certainly,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"if he knows.\"\n\nAnd away they went to Brederode, surnamed Hercule the Toper. And they\nfound him in the courtyard of his house.\n\n\"What do you want with me?\" he demanded of Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"To speak with you, my Lord.\"\n\n\"Speak then,\" said Brederode.\n\n\"You are a handsome, brave, and powerful nobleman,\" said\nUlenspiegel. \"Time was when you were able to flatten out a Frenchman in\nfull armour as though he were no better than a mussel in its shell. But\nif you are brave and powerful you are also well-informed. Can you tell\nus, therefore, why you wear this medal inscribed with these words:\n'To the King, faithful even unto beggary'?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Lamme put in, \"pray tell us why, my Lord!\"\n\nBut Brederode made no answer, and only looked very hard at Ulenspiegel,\nwho thereupon continued his discourse in this wise.\n\n\"And why, pray, do you, you other noble Lords, seek to be faithful to\nthe King even unto beggary? Is it for the great good that he wishes\nyou? Or for the fair friendship that he bears you? How is it that\ninstead of being faithful to the King even unto beggary you do not\nso act rather that the brute himself may be despoiled of his country,\nand thus be made faithful for ever to beggary himself?\"\n\nAnd Lamme nodded his head to show his agreement with what his friend\nhad said:\n\nBrederode looked at Ulenspiegel with his keen glance, and smiled with\npleasure at his handsome appearance.\n\n\"Either you are a spy of King Philip,\" he said, \"or else a good man\nof Flanders; and for whichever you are I will pay you your due.\"\n\nSo saying he led Ulenspiegel to his pantry, and Lamme followed close\nbehind. When they were come there, Brederode pulled Ulenspiegel's\near till the blood flowed.\n\n\"This for the spy,\" he said.\n\nBut Ulenspiegel remained quite quiet and said nothing.\n\nThen Brederode, pointing to a pipkin of cinnamon wine, bade his butler\nbring it to him.\n\n\"Drink,\" said Brederode, \"this for the good Fleming.\"\n\nAh!\" cried Ulenspiegel, \"good Fleming means sweet tongue for\ncinnamon! Verily the saints themselves do not know the likes of it!\"\n\nWhen he had drunk half the tankard he passed the remainder to Lamme.\n\n\"And who,\" said Brederode, \"who is this papzak, this belly-carrier\nthat needs must be recompensed for having done nothing?\"\n\n\"This,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"is my friend Lamme Goedzak, and whenever\nhe drinks mulled wine he thinks that he is going to find the wife he\nhas lost.\"\n\n\"That's so,\" said Lamme, sucking up the wine from the goblet most\ndevotedly.\n\n\"And where may you be going to now?\" asked Brederode.\n\n\"In quest of the Seven,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"the Seven that shall save\nthe land of Flanders.\"\n\n\"And who may they be?\" asked Brederode.\n\n\"When I have found them,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"then I will tell you.\"\n\nBut Lamme, who was grown sprightly with what he had been drinking,\nsuggested to Ulenspiegel that they should go there and then to the\nmoon, to see if his wife perchance was there.\n\n\"All right,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"if you'll provide a ladder!\"\n\nAnd it was May, the green month of May, and Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:\n\n\"O Lamme, behold the lovely month of May! Ah, the bright blue of the\nsky! The joy of the swallows! And behold, the branches of the trees,\nhow they are all red with sap, and the very earth is in love! Verily\nthis is now the time both to hang and to burn for the Faith. For they\nare ready, the good little Inquisitors. Ah, what noble faces they\nhave! And theirs is the power to correct us and to punish us and to\ndegrade, and hand us over to the secular judges, or to imprison us--O\nthe fine month of May!--and to take us captive, and to proceed to trial\nagainst us without serving any writ, and to burn, hang, behead us, and\nto dig the grave of premature death for our women and our girls. In\nthe trees the chaffinch is singing! But upon him that is rich and\nwealthy the good Inquisitors have cast a favourable eye! And it is\nthe King himself that shall enter into their inheritance. Then go,\nmy girls, dance in the meadows to the sound of bagpipes and shawms. O\nthe fine month of May!\"\n\nAnd the ashes of Claes beat upon the breast of Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"On, on!\" said he to Lamme. \"Happy are they that shall keep heart\nhigh and sword drawn in the dark days that are coming!\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\n\nLamme and Ulenspiegel, each mounted upon a donkey given him by\nSimon Simonsen, one of the followers of the Prince of Orange, went\nriding far and wide, warning the people concerning the bloodthirsty\ndesigns of King Philip, and always on the look-out for any news from\nSpain. They frequented all the markets and fairs of the countryside,\nselling vegetables and habited like peasants.\n\nOne day as they were returning from the market at Brussels, they passed\na stone house on the Quai aux Briques, and there, in a room on the\nground floor, they beheld a beautiful dame dressed all in satin. She\nhad a high complexion, a lively look in her eyes, and her neck was\nmost fair to behold. By her side was a young, fresh-looking cook,\nto whom she was addressing words like these:\n\n\"Clean me this saucepan, will you! No rusty sauce for me!\"\n\n\"As for me,\" cried Ulenspiegel, poking in his nose at the window,\n\"any kind of soup is good enough! For a hungry man cannot afford to\nbe particular.\"\n\nThe lady turned towards him:\n\n\"And who,\" she said, \"who is this little man, I wonder, that must\nneeds concern himself with my soup?\"\n\n\"Alas, my lovely lady,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"if only you will consent to\nmake soup in my company, I will teach you how to prepare a traveller's\nrelish of a sort that is quite unknown to lovely ladies who stay\nat home.\"\n\nAnd then, smacking his lips:\n\n\"I am hungry,\" he said.\n\n\"Hungry for what?\" she asked him.\n\n\"For you.\"\n\n\"Sure, he's a nice enough looking fellow,\" said the cook to her\nmistress. \"Let him come in a while and tell us his adventures.\"\n\n\"But there are two of them!\" said the lady.\n\n\"I'll look after the other,\" said the cook.\n\n\"Madame,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"it is true that there are two of us, I\nand my poor friend Lamme here, whose back cannot support so much as the\nweight of a hundred pounds, yet who carries in his stomach five hundred\npounds at the least of food and drink, and that right willingly!\"\n\n\"My son,\" Lamme said, \"do not make mock of me, unfortunate that I am,\nfor my belly costs a deal to fill.\"\n\n\"To-day, at any rate, it shall not cost you so much as a liard,\"\nsaid the lady. \"Come in, both of you.\"\n\n\"But what about these donkeys of ours?\" said Lamme.\n\n\"There is no lack of fodder,\" answered the lady, \"in the stable of\nMonsieur le Comte de Meghen!\"\n\nThereupon the cook left her saucepan, and led Lamme and Ulenspiegel\ninto the stable yard, they still riding on their donkeys, who now\nbegan to bray inordinately.\n\n\"Hark,\" cried Ulenspiegel, \"hearken to the fanfare with which they\ngreet their coming nourishment. They are blowing their trumpets for\njoy, the poor beasts!\"\n\nBut when they were dismounted, Ulenspiegel said to the cook:\n\n\"Come now, my dear, tell me, if you were a she-ass would you choose\nfor your mate a donkey like me?\"\n\n\"If I were a woman,\" the cook replied, \"I would desire a fellow that\nhad a merry countenance.\"\n\n\"What are you then,\" asked Lamme, \"being neither woman nor she-ass?\"\n\n\"I am a maid,\" quoth she, \"and that is neither woman nor she-ass into\nthe bargain. Now do you understand, fat-belly?\"\n\nMeantime the lady was inviting Ulenspiegel to drink a pint of\nbruinbier and to partake of some ham, a gigot, a pate, and some\nsalad. Ulenspiegel clapped his hands.\n\n\"Ham!\" he cried, \"that's good to eat; and bruinbier is a drink\ndivine. Gigot is food fit for the Gods! And the thought of a pate is\nenough to send one's tongue a-tremble in one's mouth for joy! A rich\nsalad is worthy victual for a king, forsooth. But blessed above all\nmen shall that man be to whom it is given to dine off thy loveliness,\nO lady mine!\"\n\n\"How the fellow does run on!\" she exclaimed. And then: \"Eat first,\nyou rogue.\"\n\n\"Shall we not say grace ere we consume all these dainties?\" said\nUlenspiegel.\n\n\"Nay,\" answered the lady.\n\nBut Lamme began to make moan, complaining that he was hungry.\n\n\"Eat, then, your fill,\" said the beautiful dame, \"for well I see that\nyou have no other thoughts but of meats well cooked.\"\n\n\"And fresh withal,\" Lamme added, \"even as was my wife.\"\n\nAt this the cook grew moody; nevertheless they ate and drank their\nfill, and that night also did the beautiful dame give his supper to\nUlenspiegel, and so the next day, and the days that followed.\n\nAs for the donkeys, they were given double feeds, and for Lamme there\nwas always a double ration. And throughout a whole week he never once\nwent outside the kitchen, playing the wanton with many a dish of food,\nbut never with the cook, for he was thinking of his wife all the time.\n\nThis annoyed the girl, and she went so far as to say that it was\nnot worth while to cumber the earth if one thought of nothing but\none's belly.\n\nBut all this time Ulenspiegel and the beautiful dame were passing\nthe time together in right friendly wise, till one day she said to him:\n\n\"Tyl, I think you have no principles at all. Who are you?\"\n\n\"I am,\" said he, \"a son that Chance begat one day on High Adventure.\"\n\n\"You are not afraid to speak well of yourself,\" she told him.\n\n\"That's for fear that others will praise me.\"\n\n\"Would you go so far as to help such of your brethren who have suffered\nfor the Faith?\"\n\n\"The ashes of Claes beat upon my breast.\"\n\n\"There is something splendid about you, Tyl, when you say that,\"\nshe told him, \"but who is this Claes?\"\n\n\"He was my father,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"that was burnt alive for\nthe Faith.\"\n\n\"Verily you are not at all like my husband, the Count de Meghen,\"\nshe said, \"for he, if he could, would bleed to death the country that\nI love. For you must know that I was born in the glorious city of\nAntwerp. And now I will make known to you that the Count has entered\ninto an agreement with the Councillor of Brabant to bring into that\nvery city of Antwerp a regiment of infantry.\"\n\n\"I must inform the citizens of this,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"Behold,\nI will go there immediately, swift as a ghost.\"\n\nHe departed there and then; and by the following morning the citizens\nof Antwerp were in arms. But Ulenspiegel and Lamme, having sent\ntheir donkeys to a farmer that was a friend of Simon Simonsen, were\nthemselves obliged to go into hiding for fear of the Count de Meghen,\nwho was seeking for them everywhere to have them hanged; for it had\nbeen reported to him that there were two heretics that had drunk of\nhis wine and eaten of his meat. And he was jealous and spoke concerning\nthis matter to his lovely dame, who ground her teeth in anger, and wept\nand swooned seventeen times. The cook behaved in a similar fashion,\nbut swooned not so often, and swore by her hope of Paradise and by\nthe eternal salvation of her soul, that neither she nor her mistress\nhad done anything wrong unless it had been to give what was left of\ntheir dinner to a couple of poor pilgrims who, mounted on two wretched\ndonkeys, had stopped for a moment at the kitchen window.\n\nAll that day there was a great shedding of tears, so that the floors\nof the house became quite damp with them. And when he saw this,\nMonsieur de Meghen felt reassured that he was being told the truth\nand nothing but the truth.\n\nLamme did not dare to show himself again there, for the cook always\njeered at him, calling after him, \"My wife!\" And for this cause he\nwas very sorry for himself, thinking of all the good food that he was\nmissing. But Ulenspiegel continued his visits to the beautiful dame,\nentering the house by the rue Sainte-Catherine, and hiding himself\nin the storeroom. And he always took care to bring back to Lamme some\ndainty morsel.\n\nNow one evening the Count de Meghen informed his lady that before\nmorning dawned he was resolved to lead his men-at-arms into the\ncity of Bois-le-Duc. When he had told her this he went to sleep. But\nthe beautiful dame went straightway to the storeroom, and apprised\nUlenspiegel of what had happened.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nX\n\n\nUlenspiegel, in the garb of a pilgrim, and with no provision of food\nor money, departed incontinently for Bois-le-Duc, with the intention\nof warning the citizens. He reckoned to find a horse at the house\nof Jeroen Praet, the brother of Simon Simonsen, for whom he carried\nletters from the Prince. From thence he would go by side roads to\nBois-le-Duc as fast as his horse would carry him.\n\nAs he was crossing the road he spied a company of soldiers coming\ntowards him. This gave him a great fright because of the letters\nwhich he carried; but being resolved to put the best face on the\nmisadventure, he awaited the arrival of the soldiers with all the\ncourage at his command, standing still by the roadside telling his\nbeads. When the soldiers came up with him he joined them, and soon\ndiscovered that they also were going to Bois-le-Duc.\n\nAt the head of the troop marched a company of Walloons led by a\ncaptain, Lamotte by name, with his bodyguard of six halberdiers. Then\nfollowed the other officers each according to rank, and with a\nsmaller bodyguard: the provost with his halberdiers and two bailiffs,\nthe chief watchman with the baggage-carriers, the executioner\nwith his assistants, and a band of drums and fifes making a great\nrow. Thereafter came a company of Flemish soldiers, two hundred strong,\nwith their captain and his ensign-bearers. They were divided into two\ndivisions, each of one hundred men, under the command of two sergeants,\nand in squads of ten under the command of corporals. The provost and\nhis lieutenants were likewise preceded by a band of drums and fifes,\nbeating and screaming.\n\nBehind these, again, came two open wagons wherein rode the loving\ncompanions of the soldiers, pealing with laughter, twittering like\nbirds, singing like nightingales, eating, drinking, dancing, standing,\nlying down, or sitting astride--all gay and pretty girls.\n\nMany of them were dressed like foot-soldiers, but in fine white cloth\nwhich was cut away at the arms and legs and at the neck so as to\nshow their sweet white flesh. And on their heads they wore bonnets of\nfine linen trimmed with gold and surmounted with magnificent ostrich\nplumes that fluttered in the wind. Their belts were of cloth of gold\ncrimped with red satin, from which hung the scabbards of their daggers,\nmade of cloth of gold. And their shoes, their stockings, their hose,\ntheir doublets, shoulder-knots and fitments were all of gold and white\nsilk. Others there were, dressed also in the uniform of infantrymen\nbut with uniforms of divers colours, blue, green, scarlet, sky-blue,\nand crimson, cut away and embroidered or emblazoned according to their\nfancy. But on the arm of each and all was to be seen the coloured\nband that indicated her calling.\n\nThe girls were in charge of a sergeant who did his best to keep them\nin order, but they made no pretence of obeying him, but bombarded\nhim with japes and sweet grimaces so that he found it hard to keep\nhis countenance.\n\nUlenspiegel meanwhile, in his dress of a pilgrim and telling his\nbeads, went marching along by the side of the two ensign-bearers and\ntheir guard, for all the world like a little boat by the side of a\nbig ship. Suddenly Lamotte inquired of him whither he was going.\n\n\"Sir Captain,\" answered Ulenspiegel, who was growing hungry, \"you must\nknow that I am one that has committed a grievous sin, for which I have\nbeen condemned by the Chapter of Notre Dame to journey to Rome on foot\nand to ask pardon there from the Holy Father. This he has granted,\nand now I am shriven and suffered to return to my own country on the\none condition that I am to preach the Holy Mysteries to whatsoever\nsoldiers I may encounter on the way; and they for their part are\nenjoined to give me bread and wine in return for my preaching. And\nthus by my sermons do I sustain my wretched life. Would you now give\nme permission to fulfil my vow at the next halt?\"\n\n\"I will,\" said Monsieur de Lamotte.\n\nAfter this, Ulenspiegel began to mingle with the Walloons and Flemings\nin right brotherly fashion, but all the time he kept fingering those\nletters which he kept concealed under his doublet. And the girls\nbegan to cry out to him:\n\n\"Come hither, handsome pilgrim, come hither and show us the strength\nof your pilgrim's oyster-shells!\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel drew nigh to them with modest mien, and said:\n\n\"O my sisters in God, pray you do not make mock of the poor pilgrim\nthat wendeth up hill and down dale preaching ever the Holy Faith to\nthe soldiers.\"\n\nBut with his eyes he feasted himself upon the sight of their sweet\ncharms. And the wanton girls, thrusting their lively faces betwixt\nthe canvas curtains of the wagons, cried out to him yet the more:\n\n\"Surely you are too young a man to go preaching to soldiers? Climb\nup into our wagon and we will teach thee more gentle subjects of\nconversation!\"\n\nAnd right willingly would Ulenspiegel have done as they bade him, but\nhe dared not, by reason of the letters which he carried. And already\ntwo of the girls were leaning out of the wagon trying to hoist him\nup with their white, round arms. But the sergeant was jealous.\n\n\"Be off with you, or else I'll off with your head!\" he threatened.\n\nSo Ulenspiegel removed himself away, but not without a sly look behind\nhim at the fresh young beauty of those joysome girls, all golden in\nthe sun which now shone brightly.\n\nThey came at last to Berchem, where Philip de Lannoy, Lord of Beauvoir,\nordered a halt. For he it was that was in command of the Flemings.\n\nNow in that place was an oak-tree, of medium height, but despoiled\nof all its branches save one only, a big branch that was broken off\nshort in the middle; for only a month before an Anabaptist had been\nhanged there by the neck.\n\nHere then the soldiers came to a halt, and the keepers of the canteen\ncame up and began to sell to them bread, wine, beer, with meats of\nevery kind. And to the gay girls they sold all manner of sugared\nsweets, and castrelins, and almonds, and tartlets, the which when\nUlenspiegel saw, he felt hungrier than ever.\n\nAll at once Ulenspiegel climbed up like a monkey into the tree, and\nseated himself astride on the big branch, seven feet above the ground\nat the least. And then, when he had given himself a few strokes from\nhis pilgrim's scourge, he began his sermon, while the soldiers and\ntheir gay girls sat round him in a circle.\n\n\"It is written,\" he began, \"that whosoever giveth to the poor, the\nsame lendeth to God. Very well then, O soldiers present here to-day,\nand you, fair ladies, sweet comrades in love of all these valiant\nwarriors, do you lend now to God. That is to say, give me, I beg you,\nsome of your bread, meat, wine, beer, if you please, and eke your\ntartlets, and I promise you that God, who is very rich, shall give\nyou back in exchange many pieces of ortolan, rivers of malmsey wine,\nmountains of sugar-candy, and great pieces of that lovely rystpap\nwhich they eat in Paradise from silver spoons.\"\n\nThen, changing to a more sorrowful tone, he continued:\n\n\"Behold now, with what cruel tortures do I strive to merit pardon\nfor my sins! Will you do nothing to assuage the smarting pain of this\nscourge by which my back is lacerated till the blood flows?\"\n\n\"Who is this madman?\" cried the soldiers.\n\n\"My friends,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"I am no madman but one that is\nrepentant even to the point of starvation. For while my soul weeps for\nits sins, my stomach weeps for want of food. Good soldiers, and you,\nfair damosels, I see you well provided with ham and goose, with fat\nsausages and wine and beer and all manner of tartlets. Will you not\ngive so much as a morsel to the wandering pilgrim?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, we will,\" cried the Flemish soldiers, \"for the preacher\nhath a merry countenance.\"\n\nAnd now they all began to throw him chunks of bread as though they\nhad been balls, and Ulenspiegel did not cease from talking and from\neating, astride as he was on the branch.\n\n\"Hunger,\" he said, \"makes a man hard of heart and little apt for\nprayer, yet a piece of ham removes that evil disposition in no time.\"\n\n\"Look out for your head,\" shouted a sergeant as he threw him a\nbottle half full of wine. Ulenspiegel caught the bottle in mid-air,\nand began to drink in little gulps, talking all the while.\n\n\"If hunger, sharp and raging, is bane to the poor body of a pilgrim,\nthere is something else that is equally harmful to his soul; nothing\nless than his fear that the generosity of his soldier friends may lead\nhim on to drunkenness. For as a general rule the pilgrim is a right\nsober fellow, but when, as now, one soldier gives him a slice of ham,\nand another a bottle of beer, he is mightily afraid lest by drinking\nthus upon an empty, or nearly empty, stomach he may lose his head.\"\n\nAnd even as he spoke, he caught hold of the leg of a goose that came\nwhizzing to him through the air.\n\n\"This truly is a miracle,\" he cried, \"that one should go fishing in the\nair for a bird of the field! And see! Hey, presto! it has disappeared,\nbone and all! Verily, what is it that is greedier than dry sand? I\nwill tell you. A barren woman and a hungry man.\"\n\nScarcely had he spoken than he clapped his hand to his face, for\ntwo tartlets had flattened themselves, one on his eye, the other\non his cheek. The gay girls who had thrown them laughed aloud, but\nUlenspiegel made answer:\n\n\"Many thanks, my pretties, many thanks for thus embracing me with\nthis jammy accolade.\"\n\nNevertheless the tartlets had fallen to the ground.\n\nAnd then suddenly the drums began to beat, the fifes screamed, and\nthe soldiers fell in again.\n\nMonsieur de Beauvoir ordered Ulenspiegel to come down from his tree and\nto march by the side of the soldiers. Ulenspiegel would willingly have\nbeen parted from them by a hundred leagues, for he had gathered from\nthe remarks let fall by certain thin-faced foot-soldiers that he was\nalready under suspicion, and that he ran danger of being arrested for a\nspy; and if this was so, he knew that they would most certainly search\nhis pockets, and have him hanged when they found the letters which he\ncarried. So in a little while he purposely let himself stumble into\nthe ditch which ran by the wayside, and as he fell he cried out loudly:\n\n\"Mercy, soldiers, mercy! My leg is broken, and now I cannot walk any\nmore. You must let me get up into the cart with the girls!\"\n\nBut to this he knew that the jealous sergeant would never consent.\n\nThe girls, meanwhile, cried out from the carts:\n\n\"Come, come, jolly pilgrim, and we will succour you, and caress and\nmake much of you, and cure you all in a day.\"\n\n\"I know it,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"for a woman's hand is balm celestial\nfor all and every wound.\"\n\nBut the jealous sergeant consulted with Monsieur de Lamotte, saying:\n\n\"Sir, I suspect that this pilgrim is playing some trick upon us with\nhis tale of a broken leg. All he wants is to have the chance of getting\nup into the cart with the girls. Order him rather to be left behind\non the road.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" answered Monsieur de Lamotte.\n\nSo Ulenspiegel was left where he was in the ditch.\n\nSome soldiers, who really believed that his leg was broken, were sorry\nfor him because of his gaiety, and they left with him a two days'\nration of food and wine. And the girls would have got down and run\nto his assistance, but as this was forbidden they threw him all that\nwas left of their castrelins.\n\nAs soon as the soldiers had disappeared in the distance Ulenspiegel,\nstill in his pilgrim's dress, recovered his liberty, purchased a horse,\nand rode like the wind by roads and by-paths to Bois-le-Duc.\n\nWhen he told them the news of the approach of Monsieur de Lamotte,\nthe townspeople flew to arms to the number of eight hundred men, and\nthey chose out their leaders, and sent off Ulenspiegel, disguised as\na charcoal-burner, to Antwerp to summon help from Hercule Brederode,\nsurnamed the Toper.\n\nAnd the soldiers of de Lamotte and de Beauvoir were able to gain\nno entry into Bois-le-Duc, most vigilant of cities, most valiant\nin defence.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\n\nOne day Simon Simonsen said to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Hearken, brother mine, and tell me, are you a brave man think you?\"\n\n\"Brave enough,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"to whip a Spaniard to death,\nto kill an assassin, or to murder a murderer.\"\n\n\"Do you think you could hide yourself in a chimney and wait there\npatiently so as to overhear what was being said in the room below?\"\n\n\"God has given me strong legs,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"and a supple\nback, and in virtue of these gifts I could stand a long time in\nwhatever position I would, like a cat.\"\n\n\"Have you patience and a good memory?\" asked Simon.\n\n\"The ashes of Claes beat upon my breast,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Very well then,\" said Simon, \"you will take this playing card,\nfolded as you see it, and you will go to Dendermonde to a house,\na drawing of which I will give you, and you will knock at the door\ntwice loudly and once softly. Some one will open to you and will\nask if you are the chimney-sweep; you will answer that you are he\nand that you have not lost the card. Then you will show the card to\nhim who opened the door. After that, Tyl, you must do as best you\ncan. For great are the evils that are a-planning against the land of\nFlanders. And you will be conducted to a chimney that has been swept\nand cleaned against your arrival, and in it you will find a series\nof strong cramp-irons made ready for you to climb by, and a little\nwooden shelf securely fastened to the side of the chimney for a seat;\nand when he that has opened the door shall direct you, you will climb\nup into your hiding-place, and there remain. In the chamber below,\nand in front of the chimney where you will be hidden, a conference is\nto be held between certain noble Lords: William the Silent, Prince\nof Orange, and the Counts d'Egmont, de Hoorn, de Hoogstraeten, and\nLudwig of Nassau, the brother of William. And we Reformers desire to\nfind out whether these noble Lords are able and willing to undertake\nthe saving of our country.\"\n\nWell, on the first day of April, Ulenspiegel did as he had been\nbidden and took up his place in the chimney. Luckily for him there\nwas no fire in the grate, and it seemed that the absence of smoke\nwould not make it any the less easy for him to hear properly. After\na little while the door of the room was opened, and Ulenspiegel was\npierced through and through by a draught of cold wind blowing up the\nchimney. But he endured the wind with patience, telling himself that\nit would serve to keep him alert and attentive.\n\nAfter a while he could hear my Lords of Orange, Egmont and the rest\nmaking their entrance into the room. They began by speaking of the\nfears they felt, of the wrath of the King and of the maladministration\nof the revenue and finances of the country. One of them spoke in a\nsharp, clear, and haughty tone of voice, which Ulenspiegel recognized\nas that of my Lord of Egmont; just as he recognized de Hoogstraeten\nby his husky tones, and de Hoorn by his loud voice, the Count Ludwig\nof Nassau by his firm and soldierly manner of speech, and William\nthe Silent by that slow, deliberate way of enunciating his words as\nif they had all been thought out beforehand and weighed in a balance.\n\nThe Count d'Egmont asked why they had been summoned to this second\nconference when they had had plenty of time at Hellegat to come to\na decision on what they meant to do. De Hoorn replied that the days\npassed quickly, that the King was growing angry, and that they must\nbe careful to lose no time.\n\nThen spake William the Silent.\n\n\"The country is in danger. It must be defended against the attack of\na foreign army.\"\n\nAt this d'Egmont grew excited, and said that he was indeed astonished\nto hear that the King his master had thought it necessary to send\nan army when all was so peaceful by reason of the watchful care of\ntheir noble Lordships, and of himself especially.\n\nBut William the Silent made answer:\n\n\"King Philip already has an army in the Low Countries consisting of\nnot less than fourteen regiments of artillery, and they are under\nthe control of him who commanded them at Gravelines, a general to\nwhom all the soldiers are devoted.\"\n\nD'Egmont said that he could scarcely believe it.\n\n\"I will say no more,\" said William, \"but there are certain letters\nwhich shall be read to you and to the assembled Lords, and to begin\nwith, letters from the poor prisoner, Monsieur de Montigny.\"\n\nAnd in these letters it was told how that the King was extremely vexed\nwith what was happening in the Low Countries, and that when the hour\nwas come he had determined to punish the fomenters of disturbance.\n\nIt was at this juncture that the Count d'Egmont complained of the\ncold, and desired to have the fire lit; the which was done while\nthe two Lords continued their discussion of those letters. Now it\nwas a big fire of wood, but it did not burn well on account of that\nbig obstruction which was hidden in the chimney, and the room became\nquickly full of smoke.\n\nThen the Count de Hoogstraeten began to read (for all that he was\ncoughing continually because of the smoke) certain letters which had\nbeen intercepted on their way from Alava, the Spanish ambassador,\nto the Governess of the Netherlands.\n\n\"The ambassador,\" he said, \"writes that all the evil that has happened\nin the Low Countries was the work of three men: the Lords of Orange,\nEgmont, and Hoorn. But it were desirable, he adds, to appear well\ndisposed to these three, and to tell them that the King recognizes\nthat it is thanks to them that their lands have been kept loyal to\nhim. As for the two others, Montigny and de Berghes, let them alone\nwhere they are.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said Ulenspiegel, \"I had rather a smoky chimney in the land of\nFlanders than a damp prison in the land of Spain; for garrotters grow\nbetween damp walls.\"\n\nBut the Count de Hoogstraeten continued:\n\n\"The said ambassador adds that on one occasion the King, being in the\ncity of Madrid, spoke these words: 'By all accounts that come from the\nLow Countries it is evident that our royal reputation is diminished,\nand we are ready therefore to abandon all our other possessions rather\nthan leave such a rebellion unpunished. We are decided to proceed to\nthe Netherlands in person, and to claim the assistance of the Pope and\nof the Emperor. For beneath the present evil is concealed a future\ngood. We shall reclaim the Low Countries to absolute obedience, and\naccording to our own will we shall modify the constitution of that\nState, its religion and its government.'\"\n\n\"Ah, King Philip,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"if only I could modify yours to\nmine! Verily you would suffer, under the blows of my trusty Flemish\nstick, a wondrous modification of your thighs and arms and legs! I\nwould fix your head in the middle of your back with a couple of\nnails, and as you viewed from this position the charnel-house you\nhave created, you should sing at your good ease a pretty song of\ntyrannous modification!\"\n\nNow wine was brought, and de Hoogstraeten rose upon his feet and said:\n\n\"I drink to our country!\" and every one followed his example, and\nwhen he had finished the toast he threw his empty tankard down on\nthe table, and said: \"Now sounds an evil hour for the nobility of\nBelgium. Let us take counsel as to how we may best defend ourselves.\"\n\nHe awaited some response, and looked at d'Egmont, but he uttered not\na word, and it was left to William of Orange to break the silence.\n\n\"We can offer resistance,\" he said, \"provided that the Count\nd'Egmont--who at Saint-Quentin and at Gravelines has twice made\nFrance to tremble and who holds complete sway over the Flemish\nsoldiery--provided that he, I repeat, is willing to come to our\nassistance in our endeavour to prevent the Spaniard from entering\nthe fatherland.\"\n\nTo this my Lord of Egmont made answer:\n\n\"I have too much respect for the King to think that it is right that\nwe should take up arms against him like rebels. Let those who fear\nhis wrath retire before it. I shall remain where I am, for I have no\nmeans of living if I am deprived of his help.\"\n\n\"Philip knows how to avenge himself most cruelly,\" said William\nthe Silent.\n\n\"I trust him,\" answered d'Egmont.\n\n\"You would trust him with your heads?\" asked Ludwig of Nassau.\n\n\"Head, body, and soul,\" replied d'Egmont.\n\n\"Friend, faithful and true, I will do likewise,\" said de Hoorn.\n\nBut William said:\n\n\"It behoves us to be far-sighted, and not to wait for things to\nhappen.\"\n\nAnd then my Lord of Egmont spoke again, very excitedly.\n\n\"I have arrested twenty-two Reformers at Grammont,\" he said, \"and if\ntheir preachings come to an end, and if punishment is meted out to\nthe iconoclasts, the anger of the King will be appeased.\"\n\nBut William said:\n\n\"These are mere hopes.\"\n\n\"Let us arm ourselves with trust,\" said d'Egmont.\n\n\"Let us arm ourselves with trust,\" echoed de Hoorn.\n\n\"It is cold steel rather than trust that should be our weapons,\"\nreplied de Hoogstraeten.\n\nWhereupon William the Silent made a sign to the effect that he wished\nto depart.\n\n\"Adieu, Prince without a country,\" said the Count d'Egmont.\n\n\"Adieu, Prince without a head,\" answered William.\n\n\"The sheep are for the butcher,\" said Ludwig of Nassau, \"but glory\nwaits the soldier that saves the land of his fathers.\"\n\n\"That I cannot,\" said d'Egmont, \"neither do I desire to.\"\n\n\"May the blood of the victims fall once again upon the head of the\nflatterer,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd then those Lords retired.\n\nWhereupon did Ulenspiegel come down from his chimney, and go\nstraightway to carry the news to Praet. And the latter said: \"D'Egmont\nis nothing better than a traitor. But God is with the Prince.\"\n\nThe Duke! The Duke at Brussels! Where are the safes and coffers that\nhave wings?\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\n\nWilliam the Silent went in the way by God appointed. As for the two\nCounts, they had already given themselves up to the Duke of Alba, who\noffered pardon to William as well if only he would appear before him.\n\nAt this news Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:\n\n\"My good friend, what do you think now? The Duke has sent out a summons\nthrough Dubois, the Attorney-General, by which the Prince of Orange,\nLudwig his brother, de Hoogstraeten, Van den Bergh, Culembourg,\nde Brederode, and other friends of the Prince are cited to appear\nbefore him within forty days; and if they do this they are assured of\njustice and mercy. But listen, Lamme, and I will tell you a story. One\nday there was a Jew of Amsterdam who summoned one of his enemies to\ncome down and join him in the street, for the Jew was standing on the\npavement, but his enemy was looking out of a window just above. 'Come\ndown at once,' said the Jew, 'and I will give you such a blow on the\nhead as will squash it down into your chest, so that your two eyes\nwill look out from your sides like the eyes of a thief from betwixt\nprison-bars.' But the other answered: 'Even if you promised me a\nhundred times as much, still I would not come down.' Even so may the\nPrince of Orange and his friends make reply to him that summons them!\"\n\nAnd so they did, refusing point-blank to appear before the Duke. But\nthe Counts d'Egmont and de Hoorn were not of this mind. And their\nfailure to do their duty brought them nearer to their doom.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\n\nOne day in June, a fine warm day it was, a scaffold was set up in the\nmarket square at Brussels, in front of the Town Hall. The scaffold\nwas draped in black, and close to it were two tall posts tipped with\nsteel. On the scaffold were a couple of black cushions and a little\ntable with a silver cross thereon.\n\nAnd on this scaffold were beheaded the noble Counts d'Egmont and de\nHoorn. And the King entered into their inheritance. And it was of\nthe Count d'Egmont that the ambassador of Francis spake, saying:\n\n\"This day have I seen a man beheaded who twice made the Kingdom of\nFrance to tremble.\"\n\nAnd the heads of the two Counts were placed upon the posts with the\niron tips. And Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:\n\n\"With a black cloth have they covered both their flesh and their\nblood. Verily, blessed now are they who keep heart high and sword\ndrawn in the dark days that are coming!\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\n\nIn those days William the Silent gathered together an army and invaded\nthe country of the Netherlands from three sides.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel was at a meeting of his countrymen at Marenhout. And\nthey were wild with anger and he addressed them in this wise:\n\n\"Know you, my friends, that King Philip has taken counsel with the Holy\nInquisition, and by their advice he has declared all the inhabitants\nof the Netherlands to be guilty of high treason. And the charge\nagainst them is one of heresy, namely, that either they are heretics\nthemselves, or else that they have put no obstacles in the way of\nthe spread of heretical doctrine. And for this execrable crime the\nKing has condemned them all, without regard to age or sex, to suffer\nthe appropriate penalties--all except a few here and there that are\nexempted by name. And there is no hope of grace or pardon. And the\nKing will enter into their inheritance. For the scythes of Death are\nbusy through all the wide land that borders the North Sea: the Duchy of\nEmden, the river-land of Amise, and the countries of Westphalia and of\nCleves, of Juliers and Liege, together with the Bishoprics of Cologne\nand Treves and the lands of France and Lorraine. The scythes of Death\nare busy over more than three hundred leagues of our soil, and in two\nhundred of our walled towns, in a hundred and fifty boroughs, in the\ncountrysides and villages and level lands of the whole country. And\nthe King is taking all for his own. And I tell you,\" Ulenspiegel\ncontinued, \"that eleven thousand executioners will not be too many\nfor this business. But the Duke of Alba calls them soldiers. And all\nthe land of our fathers is become a charnel-house. Fugitive are all\nthe arts of peace, and all the crafts and industries abandon us now\nto enrich those foreign lands which still permit a man to worship at\nhome the God of conscience. But here the scythes of Death are busy,\nand the King takes all for his own.\n\n\"Our country, as you know, had gained various privileges by gifts\nof money to princes when they were in need. But now these privileges\nhave all been annulled. And as the result of many an agreement made\nbetween ourselves and our overlords we had hoped to enjoy the wealth\nthat came to us as the fruit of our labours. Yet were we deceived. The\nstone-mason builded for the incendiary, the labourer laboured for\nthe thief. And the King takes all for his own.\n\n\"Blood and tears! Everywhere naught but blood and tears! For the\nscythes of Death are busy--busy at the places of execution and at the\ntrees that serve for gallows by the roadsides; and at many an open\ngrave wherein are thrown the living bodies of our maids. And they are\nbusy in the prison dungeons and within those circles of faggots that\nflame around the victims, scorching them little by little to death;\nor in the huts of straw where they fall suffocated in the fire and\nthe smoke. And the King takes all for his own. And this, forsooth,\nby the will of the Pope of Rome. The very cities teem with spies that\nawait their share of the plunder. The richer one is the more likely\none is to be found guilty. And the King takes all for his own.\n\n\"But never shall the valiant men of Flanders suffer themselves to\nbe butchered thus like lambs. For among those who fly away for refuge\nthere are some who carry arms, and these are hiding in the woods....\n\n\"The monks verily have denounced them and hold themselves free to\nkill them and take possession of their goods. But by night and day\nthese refugees, banded together like wild beasts, rush down upon the\nmonasteries and seize the money that has been stolen from the poor,\nand take it away under the form of candlesticks and reliquaries of\ngold and silver, ciboria and patens, and other precious vessels of the\nkind.... Do I not speak truth, my friends? And they drink therefrom\nthat wine which the monks had been keeping for themselves. And when\nmelted down or mortgaged, these vessels will serve to provide money\nfor the Holy War. Long live the Beggarmen!\n\n\"And even now they begin to harass the soldiers of the King, killing\nand plundering, then back into their lairs. And in the woods by day\nand night are to be seen the fires which have been lit during the\nhours of darkness, flaring up or dying down and ever breaking out\nin some fresh place. These are the fires of our banquetings. All\nfor us the game of the woods, both furred and feathered. We are the\nmasters here. And the peasants load us with bread and bacon whenever\nwe are in need. Look at them Lamme; fierce and talkative, resolute\nand proud of bearing, they wander through the woods. And they are\narmed with hatchets and halberds, and with long swords and bragmarts,\nwith arquebuses, pikes, lances, and crossbows. For any kind of weapon\nis good enough for such brave men, and they need no officers to lead\nthem. Long live the Beggarmen!\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel sang this song:\n\n\n Beat the drum! Beat the drum!\n Drums of war!\n Slit the carcass of the Duke,\n Flog him on his hangman's face!\n To the death with the murderer!\n\n Beat the drum! Beat the drum!\n Drums of war!\n With the victims of his wrath\n Foul corruption let him share!\n But long live the Beggarmen!\n\n Christ from Heaven look Thou down,\n Look upon thy soldiers true,\n That risk hanging, fire, and sword\n For thy Word!\n And for their dear Fatherland!\n Beat the drum! Beat the drum!\n Drums of war!\n\n\nAnd all drank the toast and cried aloud:\n\n\"Long live the Beggarmen!\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel drank in his turn from a golden goblet that had once\nbelonged to some monk or other, and proudly he gazed on the wild\nfaces of the brave Beggarmen that stood before him.\n\n\"Men,\" he cried, \"wild beasts rather that are my comrades, be you\nwolves lions, or tigers in very deed, and eat up all the cursed dogs\nof this King of Blood!\"\n\n\"Long live the Beggarmen!\" they shouted, and yet again they sang the\nsong of\n\n\n Beat the drum! Beat the drum!\n Drums of war!\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXV\n\n\nWilliam the Silent, with his army, was at the gates of Liege. But\nbefore crossing the Meuse he made sundry marches and counter-marches,\nleading the Duke astray, for all his vigilance.\n\nUlenspiegel applied himself most diligently to his duties as a\nsoldier, worked his arquebus most skilfully, and kept his eyes and\nears wide open.\n\nNow at that time there arrived in the camp certain gentlemen of\nFlanders and Brabant, and these lived in friendly fashion with the\ncolonels and captains of the Prince's following.\n\nBut soon there came into being two parties in the camp, who began\nto dispute one with the other continually, some saying that William\nwas a traitor, others that such accusation was a gross libel on the\nPrince, and that they who had made it should be forced to eat their\nwords. Suspicion grew and grew like a spot of oil, and at length they\ncame to blows--small companies of six, eight, or a dozen men fighting\ntogether in single combat, with all kinds of weapons and sometimes\nwith arquebuses even.\n\nOne day the Prince, hearing the noise, came to see what was going on,\nand walked straight in between the combatants. It chanced that a piece\nof shot hit his sword and struck it from his side. He stopped the\ncombat, and visited the whole camp, intending to put an end once for\nall to these combats and to these cries of \"Death to William!\" \"Death\nto the war!\"\n\nNow the day after this adventure, Ulenspiegel had been to the house of\na Walloon maiden to sing to her some Flemish love-songs of his. And\nit was near midnight, and very misty, and Ulenspiegel, being just\nabout to leave the house, thought he heard the cawing of a crow,\nthree times repeated. And the sound came from the door of a cottage\nclose by. And from far off came other cawings, three times repeated,\nas if in answer. Presently a peasant made his appearance at the doorway\nof the cottage, and at the same time Ulenspiegel heard steps on the\nroad. Two men came up to the peasant and began to talk to him in the\nSpanish tongue. The peasant spoke to them, also in Spanish:\n\n\"Well? And how goes it?\" asked the cottager.\n\n\"Well, indeed,\" the two men answered. \"We have been spreading rumours\non behalf of the King, and it is thanks to us that the captains and\ntheir soldiers are everywhere suspicious and talking among themselves\nin this wise:\n\n\"'The Prince, so the gossip goes--is resisting the King for vile\nambition and for nothing else. For by this means he thinks to make\nhimself feared so that he may acquire cities and overlordships as the\nprice of peace. For five hundred thousand florins he would leave in\nthe lurch all the brave nobles who have come out to fight for their\ncountry. And it is a fact that the Duke has offered him a complete\namnesty, and has promised to restore both him and his chief officers\nin their possessions, if only the Prince will return to the obedience\nof the King, and will negotiate with him alone.'\n\n\"But they that remain faithful to the Prince make answer to us in\nthis wise:\n\n\"'By no means will William have aught to do with the proposals of\nthe Duke. For these are but snares and treachery. For the Prince must\nsurely call to mind what happened to d'Egmont and de Hoorn. And it is\nwell known that the Cardinal de Granville said at Rome, when the two\nCounts had been taken: \"The two gudgeon, verily, have been caught,\nbut the pike has been allowed to escape.\" For nothing has been taken\nwhile William still remains at large.'\"\n\n\"Is the camp divided in twain then?\" asked the peasant.\n\n\"It is,\" replied the two men, \"and the division grows greater every\nday. But whom are those letters for?\"\n\nWhereupon they all entered into the cottage. A lantern was lit inside,\nand looking through a crack in the door Ulenspiegel could see them\nunsealing two letters. These they read with every appearance of\nenjoyment, and then they all fell to drinking honey-wine. After\nwhich the two men came out of the cottage and said to the peasant,\nstill speaking in Spanish:\n\n\"The camp split in two, and the Prince captured--that will be worth\na dozen glasses, eh?\"\n\n\"Those men,\" said Ulenspiegel to himself, \"cannot longer be allowed\nto live.\"\n\nBut even now they were disappearing in the thick mist, with the\nlantern which the peasant had brought for them. The light of the\nlantern shone out intermittently, as if continually intercepted by\nsome dark body. From this Ulenspiegel concluded that the two men must\nbe walking one behind the other.\n\nHe raised his arquebus to his shoulder and fired. Then he saw the\nlantern raised and lowered several times, as if the man who carried\nit was looking at his fallen comrade, trying to discover where he\nhad been hit and the nature of the wound.\n\nYet again did Ulenspiegel raise his arquebus, and then when the lantern\nbegan to steady itself and to retreat speedily towards the camp, he\nfired again. Now the lantern swayed, fell to the ground and went out,\nleaving all in darkness.\n\nUlenspiegel ran on to the camp, and there he soon encountered the\nprovost with a number of soldiers who had been awakened by the noise of\nthe firing. Ulenspiegel accosted them, saying: \"I am the huntsman. Go\nyou now and find the game.\"\n\n\"Brave Fleming,\" said the provost, \"methinks you are a man that knows\nother ways of talking besides with your tongue.\"\n\n\"Words of the tongue they are but so much wind,\" answered\nUlenspiegel. \"But words of lead--they know how to find for themselves a\nlasting habitation in the carcass of a traitor! Come then, follow me.\"\n\nAnd so saying he led them to the place where the two men had\nfallen. And in very deed the soldiers saw by the light of their\nlanterns two bodies stretched out on the ground. One was dead, and\nthe other at the last gasp, holding his hand to his heart, and in\nhis hand a letter all crumpled in the agony of death. The soldiers\nlifted the two bodies, whose clothes clearly showed them to be the\nbodies of gentlemen, and straightway carried them, still by the light\nof their lanterns, to the Prince.\n\nNow William was about to hold a council with Frederick of Hollenhausen,\nthe Margrave of Hesse, and other nobles. But the soldiers, who had\nnow been joined by a company of other troopers in green and yellow\njackets, stood before the tent, demanding with shouts and cries that\nthe Prince should give them audience.\n\nAt length William of Orange came out to them, and the provost began\nto clear his throat and make other preliminaries for the accusation\nof Ulenspiegel. But the latter cut in before him, saying:\n\n\"My Lord, I had thought to kill two crows, but I have killed two\ntraitors in their stead--two noblemen--belonging to your suite.\"\n\nThen he told the story of all that he had seen and heard and\ndone. William did not utter a word, but the two bodies were carefully\nexamined in the presence of Ulenspiegel himself and William the\nSilent, together with Frederick of Hollenhausen, the Margrave of\nHesse, Dietrich of Schoonenbergh, Count Albert of Nassau, the Count\nde Hoogstraeten, and Antoine de Lailang, Governor of Malines. And\nthe soldiers stood by, with Lamme Goedzak, his great belly all of a\ntremble. Sealed letters were found on the persons of the deceased\ngentlemen, which had been sent by Granvelles and Noircames, and\nengaged the recipients to sow division in the Prince's entourage,\nand by that means to diminish his power and to compel him to yield,\nso that he might ultimately be delivered up to the Duke and beheaded\naccording to his deserts. \"The right procedure is,\" continued the\nletter, \"to act at first with caution and to use allusive phrases only,\nso that the army may be led to think that the Prince has already come\nto a secret understanding with the Duke, for his own advantage. This\nwill arouse the anger of his captains and soldiers, and they will\nassuredly take him prisoner.\" Now as a reward for this service it\nappeared that notes to the value of some five hundred ducats were\nbeing sent them on the Fugger Bank at Antwerp, and they were promised\na thousand more as soon as the four hundred thousand ducats which\nwere already on their way from Spain had arrived in Zeeland.\n\nThe whole plot having been now unmasked, the Prince turned in silence\ntowards the gentlemen, Lords, and soldiers who stood round him. Many\nof these men he knew to be suspicious of him already, nevertheless,\nhe pointed at the two bodies without speaking a word, intending by\nthis gesture to reproach them for their mistrust. And at this every\none present there exclaimed and shouted aloud:\n\n\"Long live the Prince of Orange! The Prince is faithful and true!\" And\nsuch was their anger that they were desirous to throw the two dead\nbodies to the dogs; but William forbade them, saying:\n\n\"It is not these two poor corpses that deserve to be thrown to the\ndogs so much as that littleness of mind which must needs be suspicious\nof the purest intentions.\"\n\nAnd the Lords and soldiers cried out again:\n\n\"Long live the Prince! Long live the Prince of Orange, the friend of\nour country!\"\n\nAnd the sound of their voices was like the noise of thunder threatening\ninjustice. And the Prince pointed to the two corpses and ordered that\nthey should be given Christian burial.\n\n\"And I,\" demanded Ulenspiegel, \"what shall be done to me, faithful\nand true? If I have done evil let me be beaten, but if good--why then\nlet me be suitably rewarded!\"\n\nThen the Prince addressed him, saying:\n\n\"This soldier is to receive fifty strokes from the green wood in\nmy presence for having killed two gentlemen without orders, to the\ncontempt of all discipline. At the same time let him receive a reward\nof thirty florins for having used his eyes and ears to some purpose.\"\n\n\"My Lord,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"give me the thirty florins first,\nand I shall then be able to support my beating with equanimity.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" murmured Lamme Goedzak, \"give him the thirty florins first,\nand then he will bear the rest with equanimity.\"\n\n\"One thing more,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"since my soul is admittedly free\nfrom fault, is there any real reason why I must be cleansed with the\nwood of the oak or washed with the branch of the cherry-tree?\"\n\n\"No,\" murmured Lamme again, \"Ulenspiegel surely has no need to be\nwashed or cleansed. For his soul is without stain. Do not wash it,\nmy masters, do not wash it.\"\n\nBut when Ulenspiegel had received the thirty florins the provost\nordered him to give himself up to the Stock-meester.\n\n\"Behold, my Lords,\" said Lamme, \"behold how piteous he looks. There's\nno love lost between the hard wood and him--my beloved Ulenspiegel.\"\n\nBut Ulenspiegel answered:\n\n\"Of a truth I love a fine ash-tree in full leaf, growing up towards\nthe sun in all its native verdure, but I agree I loathe like poison\nthese heavy cudgels of wood with their sap still oozing out of them,\nstripped of their branches and without any leaves or twigs growing\nthereon, for they are rough to look upon and hard to feel.\"\n\n\"Are you ready?\" demanded the provost.\n\n\"Ready?\" Ulenspiegel repeated. \"Ready for what? Ready to be\nflogged do you mean? No, I cannot, nor will I, be flogged by you,\nMr. Stock-meester. You have a red beard certainly, and your appearance\nis formidable. Nevertheless, I am sure that you have a kind heart\nand would have no desire to thrash a poor fellow like me. And now\nto tell you the truth I should be loath to do such a thing myself,\nmuch less to see any one else do it. For the back of a Christian is\na sacred thing, as sacred as his breast which holds the lungs, those\ntrusty organs whereby we breathe the goodly air of God. And think how\nbitter would be your remorse if a too brutal blow from your cudgel\nshould chance to break me in pieces!\"\n\n\"Make haste,\" said the Stock-meester.\n\n\"My Lord,\" said Ulenspiegel, addressing himself to the Prince,\n\"believe me, there is no need for all this hurry. First of all the\nwood of the cudgel ought to be allowed to dry. For I have heard that\nwood while still green is like to communicate a mortal poison to any\nflesh with which it comes in contact. Would your Highness desire to\nsee me die such an ugly death? My Lord, my back I hold most pitifully\nat your service. Have it flogged, if you must, with rods and lashed\nwith whips. But unless you wish to see me dead, spare me, I pray you,\nfrom the wood while it is still green.\"\n\n\"Have mercy on him, Prince,\" cried my Lords of Hoogstraeten and of\nSchoonenbergh both together; while the others all began to smile\ncompassionately. Lamme also put in a word of his own, \"Have mercy,\nmy Lord. Green wood is poison, neither more nor less than rank poison!\"\n\nThe Prince said:\n\n\"Very well.\"\n\nThereupon Ulenspiegel leapt in the air again and again, and smote Lamme\non his belly and compelled him to dance too, saying: \"Join me now in\npraising the good Duke who has delivered me from the green wood.\"\n\nAnd Lamme did his best to dance, but could not very well because of\nhis belly. And Ulenspiegel gave him to eat and to drink as much as\nhe was able.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXVI\n\n\nIt was now at the end of October. The Prince was in want of money,\nand his army of food. The soldiers too began to murmur, and he marched\nthem towards the French frontier to offer battle to the Duke. But\nthe Duke would not fight.\n\nLeaving Quesnoy-le-Comte to go to Cambresis, the Prince's army fell\nin with ten companies of Germans and eight Spanish ensigns and three\ncohorts of cavalry. They at once joined battle, and in the midst of\nthe melee was Ruffele Henricis, the Duke's son, crying out at the\ntop of his voice:\n\n\"No quarter! No quarter! Long live the Pope!\"\n\nNow Don Henricis found himself opposite to a company of arquebusiers\nwhich was led by Ulenspiegel, and he threw himself upon them with\nall his men. Ulenspiegel said to his sergeant:\n\n\"I will cut out this murderer's tongue for him!\"\n\n\"Very good,\" said the sergeant.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel took careful aim, and his bullet shattered the\ntongue and the entire jaw-bone of Don Ruffele Henricis, son of\nthe Duke. At the same time Ulenspiegel brought down the son of the\nMarquess Delmares, and in a little while more the eight ensigns and\nthe three cohorts of cavalry were thoroughly worsted.\n\nAfter this victory Ulenspiegel went seeking for Lamme everywhere\nthrough the camp, but he could not find him.\n\n\"Alas,\" he said, \"he is gone! Lamme is gone; my friend, my great fat\nfriend! In his warlike ardour he must have forgotten how heavy his\nbelly was, and tried to follow the Spaniards in their flight. Out of\nbreath he must have fallen like a sack on the wayside. And then the\nenemy will have picked him up for ransom--a ransom of good Christian\nfat! O Lamme, my friend, where are you? Where are you, my great\nfat friend?\"\n\nUlenspiegel sought him everywhere but found him not and had to nurse\nhis grief in silence.\n\nAnd now November was come, the month of snow-storms, and Ulenspiegel,\nhaving been ordered to report himself before William, found the Prince\nbrooding in silence, and biting the lacings of his coat of mail.\n\n\"Listen to me,\" the Prince said presently, \"and give me your whole\nattention.\"\n\nUlenspiegel answered: \"My ears are like the gates of a prison. One\nenters easily but to get out again is a different matter.\"\n\n\"Very good,\" said William, \"but now I would have you go for me to\nNamur, and to Flanders, Hainaut, Sud-Brabant, Antwerp, Nord-Brabant,\nand to Gueldre, Overyssel, and the North of Holland, telling the\npeople everywhere that, although it seems that the fates on land are\nhostile to our most Holy and Christian Cause, we will yet continue\nthe struggle by sea, no matter what the evil powers that are arrayed\nagainst us. For God holds the issue in His own good providence,\nwhether in success or failure. And when you are come to Amsterdam you\nwill render an account of all that you have done to Paul Bruys who\nis my trusty vassal. Here are three passports, signed by the Duke\nof Alba himself, which were found on certain bodies of the dead at\nQuesnoy-le-Comte. My secretary has filled them in afresh. And it may\nbe that on your journey you will meet some good companion in whom\nyou can trust. Let him go with you. And those are to be accounted\ntrustworthy who know how to answer the song of the lark with a warlike\ncockcrow. Here are fifty florins. Be valiant and faithful.\"\n\n\"The ashes of Claes beat upon my heart,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd he went his way.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXVII\n\n\nNow the passports were countersigned both by the King and the Duke,\nand they authorized the bearer to carry any kind of arms at his\nconvenience. So Ulenspiegel took with him his trusty arquebus as well\nas a good supply of cartridges and dry gunpowder. He dressed himself\nin a short cloak and a shabby doublet and hose made after the Spanish\nfashion, and thus accoutred, with a plumed cap on his head and a sword\nat his side, he made his departure from the Prince's army where it\nlay at the French frontier, and set out for Maestricht.\n\nThe roitelets, those heralds of bad weather, were flying around\nthe houses seeking asile from the storm, and on the third day snow\nfell. Many times during the journey did Ulenspiegel have to show his\nsafe-conduct. But they always let him pass, and so he came at length\nto the confines of Liege. He was plodding along over a level heath,\nand a fierce wind was driving the swirling snowflakes against his face,\nand in front and on every side the heath stretched out all white under\nthe snow that fell in eddies, which themselves were whirled about\nhither and thither in the squalls of wind. And there were three wolves\nthat began to follow him. But one of them he killed with a shot from\nhis arquebus, and the other two flung themselves upon their wounded\ncomrade, and then made off into the woods, each carrying a piece of\nthe corpse.\n\nDelivered from this peril, Ulenspiegel peered about him, fearing\nlest there might be other bands of wolves in that country, but he\nsaw nothing except, in the far distance, certain objects that looked\nlike grey statues moving slowly along in the falling snow. Behind\nthese again, Ulenspiegel could descry the dark figures of a couple of\nsoldiers on horseback. To see the better what all this might portend,\nUlenspiegel climbed up into a tree, and there the wind brought to\nhim a far-off sound of lamentation. \"It may be,\" Ulenspiegel said\nto himself, \"these people are pilgrims, clad in white habits; for I\ncan scarcely distinguish their figures against the snow.\" But after\na little while he saw that they were men running, quite naked, and\nthat behind them were two German troopers in black uniforms riding\non horses. And they were driving the poor wretches in front of them\nwith whips. Ulenspiegel took aim with his arquebus. Now he could\ndistinguish the individual figures of that mournful company--old men\nand young men naked, shivering, and quaking with cold, hardly able\nto stand some of them, but running all, for fear of the cruel whips\nof the two soldiers who, themselves being warmly clad and red with\nbrandy and good food, took pleasure in lashing the bodies of naked\nmen to make them run the faster.\n\nUlenspiegel said: \"You shall be avenged, ashes of Claes!\" And he killed\none of the soldiers outright with a bullet from his arquebus. The\nsoldier fell from his horse, and his companion took fright, not knowing\nwhence the shot had come. But concluding that his assailant must be\nhiding somewhere in the wood, he decided to make good his escape,\ntogether with the horse of his dead companion. The man contrived to\nget hold of the horse's bridle, but while he himself was dismounting\nto plunder the body of the dead, he was hit by a bullet in the neck\nand fell to the ground.\n\nAs for the naked prisoners, they imagined that some angel from heaven,\nwho was also forsooth a fine marksman, had descended from the sky\nto aid them, and they all fell down upon their knees in the snow. At\nthis Ulenspiegel descended from his tree, and was at once recognized\nby the company who had previously served with him as soldiers in the\narmies of the Prince. They said to him:\n\n\"O Ulenspiegel, we are come from France, and we were being driven in\nthis piteous plight to Maestricht, where the Duke is, to be treated\nthere as rebel prisoners because we cannot pay our ransom, and are\ntherefore condemned in advance to be tortured, cut into pieces,\nor sent to row like caitiffs and criminals in the galleys of the King.\"\n\nUlenspiegel gave his opperst-kleed to the oldest of the soldiers,\nsaying:\n\n\"Come with me, my friends. I will accompany you as far as Mezieres;\nbut first of all let us strip these two dead soldiers and take\npossession of their horses.\" Thereupon the doublets, hose, boots,\nhead-gear, and body-armour of the soldiers were divided up among the\nsick and feeble, and Ulenspiegel said:\n\n\"We shall soon be entering the wood, where the air is thicker and\nmore gentle. You had better run, my brothers.\"\n\nSuddenly one of the men fell down on the ground, crying: \"I am hungry\nand cold, and I am going to God to bear witness that the Pope is\nAntichrist on earth.\" And he died, and the others agreed to carry\nthe body with them that it might be given Christian burial.\n\nWhile thus proceeding along the road, they met a peasant driving\na cart with a canvas hood. Seeing the men all naked, the peasant\nhad compassion on them and invited them to ride in his cart. There\nthey found some hay to lie on, and some empty sacks to cover them\nwithal. And they were warmed and gave thanks to God. Ulenspiegel\nrode beside the cart on one of the two horses that had belonged to\nthe German troopers, leading the other by the bridle.\n\nAt Mezieres they all alighted. Good hot soup and beer and bread\nand cheese were handed round, with some meat for the older men\nand women. And they were nobly entertained; and they were clothed\nand armed again, all at the expense of the commune. And every one\njoined in giving thanks and praise to Ulenspiegel, who received it\ngladly. Ulenspiegel also sold the horses of the German troopers for\neight-and-forty florins, out of which he distributed thirty florins\namong the Frenchmen.\n\nThereafter he took the road again, and as he walked solitarily along\nhe said to himself:\n\n\"Verily now do I wander through a land of ruin, blood, and\ntears. Nevertheless, I find nothing. Those spirits lied to me without\na doubt. For where is Lamme? Where is Nele! Where are the Seven?\"\n\nAnd he heard a voice speaking to him as though in a whisper:\n\n\"In death, in ruin, and in tears, seek!\"\n\nAnd he went his way.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXVIII\n\n\nIt was the month of March when Ulenspiegel came to Namur. There he\nfound Lamme, who, having conceived a violent passion for the fish of\nthe Meuse, and for the trout especially, had hired a boat and spent\nall day fishing in the river by permission of the commune. But for\nthis privilege he had been obliged to pay the sum of fifty florins\nto the Guild of the Fishmongers.\n\nSome of his fish he sold. But the rest he ate himself, and by\nthis means he gained a finer belly than ever, and a small sack of\nmoney. When he saw his friend and comrade walking along the banks of\nthe Meuse and about to enter the town, Lamme was mightily rejoiced\nand pushed his boat to the shore, and there springing on to the bank\nrushed up to Ulenspiegel, blowing and puffing and stammering for joy.\n\n\"Here you are,\" he cried, \"here you are at last, my son. And where\nare you off to? What are you after? You are not dead, then? And have\nyou seen my wife? You'll feed off the fish of the Meuse, which are\nthe best to be found anywhere on this base earth! And let me tell you\nsomething. The people here make such sauces as will tempt you to dip\nyour fingers into the dish right up to your shoulder! Ah, but how proud\nand splendid you look! On your cheeks is the very bloom of battle. And\nhere you are! It's you, it's really you, my son! My Ulenspiegel! You\njolly vagabond!\" Then in a lower tone of voice he added:\n\n\"And how many Spaniards have you killed? You have not seen my wife\nby any chance, in the carts with those other hussies? Ah, but the\nwine of the Meuse! You must taste it. And have you been wounded, my\nson? You must rest here a while, so fresh and cheery as you are, and\nvigilant as a young eagle. But our eels! You must taste our eels. No\nmuddy taste about them! Come, kiss me, my second self! Praise be to\nGod! How glad I am!\"\n\nAnd Lamme danced and leapt in the air, puffing and blowing and\ncompelling Ulenspiegel to dance too.\n\nThereafter they walked towards Namur. At the gate of the city\nUlenspiegel showed his passport signed by the Duke. And Lamme\nconducted him to his house. While their repast was being prepared\nhe made Ulenspiegel tell him all his adventures and then recounted\nhis own, telling how he had left the army to follow a girl whom he\nthought was his wife. It was in pursuit of her, it seemed, that he\nhad come at last to Namur. And he kept on asking Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Are you sure you have not seen her anywhere?\"\n\n\"I have seen many other beautiful women,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"and\nin this town especially, where it seems they are all most amorous....\"\n\n\"It is so,\" said Lamme, \"nevertheless I have remained faithful. For\nmy sad heart is heavy with but a single recollection.\"\n\n\"Even as your belly is heavy with countless platter-fuls!\" said\nUlenspiegel.\n\n\"When I am unhappy I have to eat,\" Lamme replied.\n\n\"Your unhappiness knows no end?\" demanded Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Alas, no!\" said Lamme.\n\nAnd helping himself to another trout:\n\n\"Look,\" he cried, \"look how lovely and firm he is. This flesh is as\npink as the flesh of my wife. But to-morrow we will leave Namur. I\nhave a purseful of florins, and we will buy a donkey for each of us,\nand so we will go riding away to the land of Flanders!\"\n\n\"You will be giving up a great deal,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Never mind,\" said Lamme. \"My heart draws me back to Damme. For it\nwas there that my love loved me well. And it may be that she also\nhas returned thither.\"\n\n\"We will set out to-morrow,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"since such is your\ndesire.\"\n\nAnd in fact they set forth as Lamme had said, each on a donkey;\nand so they rode along side by side.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIX\n\n\nNele all this time was living at Damme, sorrowful and alone, with\nKatheline, who still continued to call amorously for her cold devil\nwho never came.\n\n\"Ah!\" she would say, \"you are rich, Hanske my pet; and you could\neasily give me back those seven hundred caroluses. Then Soetkin would\nlive again and come to earth once more, and Claes in heaven would\nlaugh for joy. Easily could you do this, and you would! Put out the\nfire! My soul wants to get out!\"\n\nAnd with her finger she would point without ceasing to the place on\nher head where the flaming tow had burned her.\n\nKatheline was very impoverished, but the neighbours helped her by\nsending in beans and bread and meat, according as they were able. The\ncommune also gave her a certain amount of money, and Nele did sewing\nfor the wealthy bourgeois, and went to their houses to mend their\nlinen, earning in this way a florin or two every week. But Katheline\nkept on with her eternal \"Make a hole! Let out my soul! She is knocking\nto be let out! And he will give me back the seven hundred caroluses!\"\n\nAnd Nele wept to hear her.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXX\n\n\nIn the meantime Ulenspiegel and Lamme continued their wanderings. Under\nthe protection of their passports, they entered one day into a little\ntavern built against the rocks of the Sambre, the which rocks are\ncovered with trees here and there, and on the sign of the tavern was\nwritten mine host's name--MARLAIRE. When they had drunk many a flask of\nwine--wine of the Meuse, rather like Burgundy--and when they had eaten\na large plate of fish, they fell talking to the innkeeper, who was a\nkeen Papist but as talkative as he was pious because of the wine he had\nbeen drinking. And he kept on winking his eye maliciously. Ulenspiegel\nhad a suspicion that all this winking portended something mysterious,\nand he made the fellow drink yet more, with the result that he fell to\ndancing and shouting with laughter, till at last he sat himself down\nat the table again, and, \"Good Catholics,\" says he, \"I drink to you.\"\n\n\"And to you we drink also,\" answered Lamme and Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"And I drink to the extinction of all heresy and rebellion.\"\n\n\"We will join you in that toast,\" answered Lamme and Ulenspiegel,\nwho kept on filling up the goblets which mine host could never suffer\nto remain full.\n\n\"You are good fellows,\" said the innkeeper. \"Let me drink to the health\nof your noble Generosities. For you must know that I derive some profit\nfrom all the wine that is drunk here. But where are your passports?\"\n\n\"Here they are,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"With the Duke's signature and all,\" said the innkeeper. \"Here's a\nhealth to the Duke.\"\n\n\"To the Duke,\" echoed Lamme and Ulenspiegel. And mine host went\non talking:\n\n\"Answer me now, do you know what it is that they catch rats and mice\nin? Why in rat-traps to be sure, and mouse-traps. Who is the mouse\nthen? The great heretic of Orange--and orange he is in very truth,\nlike the flames of hell! But God is on our side. They will come. Ho\nho! A toast! Pour out the wine; I bake and burn with thirst. Come,\ndrink, my masters. Fine little Protestant evangelists.... I said\nlittle. Fine valiant little fellows they are, and brave soldiers,\nsturdy as oaks.... I drink to them! Are you not going with them to\nthe camp of the great heretic? I have certain passports signed by\nhim.... You will see.\"\n\n\"We are going to the camp,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Yes, they will do their work well. And one fine night, if the\nopportunity presents itself\"--and here the innkeeper whistled, and\nmade a gesture as of one man cutting another's throat--\"cold steel,\nI tell you. It's that that shall prevent the black bird of Nassau\nfrom singing any more. Come, drink again.\"\n\n\"You're a gay fellow,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"in spite of being married.\"\n\nThe innkeeper said:\n\n\"I am neither married nor have I ever been. The secrets of Princes are\nsafe with me. Drink! But if I had a wife she would steal my secrets\nfrom under my pillow to get me hanged and herself made widow before\nthe time. Long live God! They will come.... But where are the new\npassports? On my heart of a Christian. Drink! They are there, there I\ntell you. One hundred paces along the road near by Marche-les-Dames. Do\nyou see them? Drink again!\"\n\n\"Drink?\" said Ulenspiegel. \"Yes, I drink and drink and drink. To\nthe King, to the Duke, to the Protestant preachers, and to Vent\nd'acier--Wind of Lead. And I drink to thee and to me, to the wine\nand the bottle that holds it. But why? It is you that have stopped\ndrinking!\"\n\nAnd at each new toast Ulenspiegel filled up the glass of the innkeeper,\nwho emptied it straightway.\n\nUlenspiegel looked at him for some time, then rose and said to Lamme:\n\"Come, Lamme, it is time for us to be off. He is asleep.\" But when\nthey were outside, \"He has no wife,\" Ulenspiegel continued. \"We are\nsafe. The night is at hand. Did you hear what the rascal said? And\ndo you rightly understand who these three preachers are? Do you\nrealize that they are to come along the bank of the Meuse from\nMarche-les-Dames, and that it will be our part to await them on the\nroad? And then for Vent d'acier--Wind of Lead--to start his whistling?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"It is for us to save the Prince's life,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"Wait,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"You take my arquebus, and go and\nhide in the undergrowth among the rocks. Load it with two shots,\nand shoot when you hear me caw and crow.\"\n\n\"I will,\" said Lamme.\n\nAnd so saying he disappeared into the undergrowth. And Ulenspiegel\ncould hear quite clearly the click of the gun as Lamme loaded it.\n\n\"Do you see them coming?\" he asked presently.\n\n\"I see them,\" answered Lamme. \"There are three of them, marching\ntogether like soldiers, and one of them is much taller than the\nothers.\"\n\nUlenspiegel sat himself down by the side of the road, with his legs\nstretched out in front of him, muttering his prayers on a rosary,\njust like beggars do. And he held his hat between his knees. And when\nthe three evangelists passed in front of him, he held out his hat as\nthough asking for alms; but they gave him nothing. Then Ulenspiegel\ngot up and addressed them most piteously:\n\n\"Kind sirs,\" he said, \"do not refuse a patard to a poor quarryman\nwho has recently had an accident and broken his back by falling down\na mine. The people in this part of the world are hard of heart,\nand they have not been willing to give me anything to relieve my\ndistress. Alas! Give me but a patard, and I will say many prayers for\nyou. And God will keep you happy, all your lives long, kind friends!\"\n\n\"My son,\" said one of the evangelists, \"there can be no happiness\nfor us in this world so long as the Pope and the Inquisition remain\nin power.\"\n\nUlenspiegel heaved another sigh:\n\n\"Alas! What are you saying, my lords? Do not speak so loud, if it\nplease you. But give me a patard.\"\n\n\"My son,\" replied one of the evangelists, he that was the smallest of\nthe three, and of a very warlike countenance, \"we poor martyrs carry\nno patards save only just enough to keep us going on our journey.\"\n\nAt this Ulenspiegel threw himself on to his knees in front of them.\n\n\"Give me your blessing then,\" he said.\n\nThe three evangelists laid their hands upon the head of Ulenspiegel,\nalbeit with little signs of devotion.\n\nNow Ulenspiegel noticed that although they were lean of figure,\nthese men all had very fat stomachs, so he rose from his knees,\nand then pretended to stumble, knocking against the body of the tall\nevangelist as he did so. At that a merry tinkle of coin was distinctly\naudible. Thereupon Ulenspiegel raised himself to his full height and\ndrew his dagger.\n\n\"My good man,\" he said, \"it is cold and I am but poorly clad; but\nmethinks you have too much about you. Give me some of your wool,\nthat I may get a cloak made for me. I am a Beggarman. Long live the\nBeggarmen!\" The tall evangelist made answer:\n\n\"You cock of a Beggarman, you carry your crest proudly forsooth,\nand we are going to cut it off for you!\"\n\n\"Cut it off then,\" cried Ulenspiegel, giving ground, \"but let me\nwarn you that trusty Wind of Lead is going to sing for you or ever he\nsings for the Prince my master! Beggar I am! Long live the Beggarmen!\"\n\nThe three evangelists were astounded and cried out to each other: \"How\ndoes he know? We are betrayed! Kill him! Long live the Mass!\" And each\nman drew forth from beneath his hose a sharp dagger. But Ulenspiegel,\nwithout waiting for them to attack him, gave ground towards the bushes\nwhere Lamme was hidden, and when he judged that the three evangelists\nwere within range of the arquebus, he cried out: \"Crows, black crows,\nthe Wind of Lead is going to whistle. I sing your bitter end!\"\n\nThen he cawed like a crow. And a shot rang out from the bushes, and\nthe tall evangelist fell prone on the earth. The next moment followed\na second shot, which accounted in the same way for the second.\n\nAnd from among the bushes Ulenspiegel saw the jolly face of Lamme,\nand his arm raised as he hastily reloaded his arquebus. And from the\nmidst of the dark shrubbery a puff of blue smoke mounted into the air.\n\nThere now remained but one evangelist, and he was in a furious rage,\nand tried to cut at Ulenspiegel with all his might. But Ulenspiegel\ncried:\n\n\"Wind of Steel or Wind of Lead, which matters it? Either way you\nshall quit this world for another, you shameless murderer!\"\n\nAnd he attacked the foe and defended himself most bravely. So they\nstood on the roadway, inflexible, face to face, giving and parrying\nblows. Now Ulenspiegel was covered with blood, for his opponent\nwas an experienced fencer, and had wounded him on the hands and\non the legs. But Ulenspiegel attacked and defended himself like a\nlion. Still the blood which began to flow from his head blinded him,\nand he retreated continually, trying to wipe away the blood with his\nleft hand but every moment feeling weaker. And he would most certainly\nhave been killed had not Lamme brought down the third evangelist with\nanother shot from his arquebus.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel saw him fall, and heard him vomit forth blasphemies\nand blood, and the white froth of death. And once again the blue\nsmoke drifted up above the dark shrubbery, in the midst of which\nLamme displayed yet again his jolly face.\n\n\"Have you finished him off?\" he asked.\n\n\"Yes, my son,\" replied Ulenspiegel, \"but come....\"\n\nLamme, then, coming out of his hiding-place, saw Ulenspiegel all\ncovered with blood. He ran like a stag, in spite of his fat belly,\nand came to Ulenspiegel where he sat by the three dead men.\n\n\"He is wounded!\" Lamme cried. \"My gentle friend is wounded by\nthe rascally murderer.\" And then, with a vicious kick at the jaw\nof the evangelist who lay nearest to him: \"You cannot answer\nme, Ulenspiegel? Are you going to die, my son? Where is the\nointment! Ha! I remember now. It is at the bottom of his satchel\nunder the sausages. Can't you hear me speak, Ulenspiegel? Alas! there\nis no warm water here to wash your wound, and no way of getting\nany. The water of the Sambre will have to do instead. But speak to\nme, my friend. You are not so badly hurt after all, surely. A little\nwater--there, it's cold, isn't it? But he is waking up. It's I, your\nfriend; and your enemies are all dead! Oh, where is some linen? Some\nlinen to bind up his wounds. There isn't any. What am I to do? Ah! my\nshirt, that must serve.\"\n\nPresently Ulenspiegel opened his eyes and raised himself from the\nground with his teeth all chattering because of the cold.\n\n\"And here you are standing up already!\" Lamme exclaimed.\n\n\"It is a balm of much virtue,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Balm of valiance,\" answered Lamme.\n\nAnd then, taking the bodies of the evangelists one by one, he cast\nthem into a hole in the rocks, leaving their weapons and their clothes\nupon them. But he took their cloaks.\n\nAnd all around in the sky the crows were beginning to caw to each\nother, in anticipation of the feast. And the Sambre flowed by like\na river of steel under the grey sky.\n\nAnd the snow fell, washing the blood away.\n\nYet they felt ill at ease, and Lamme said:\n\n\"I had rather kill a chicken than a man.\"\n\nAnd they mounted again upon their donkeys. And when they arrived at\nthe gates of Huy, the blood was still trickling from the head of\nUlenspiegel, so they dismounted and pretended to have a quarrel,\nand to use their daggers on one another, with the utmost ferocity\nas it seemed. But when they had finished their duel, they remounted\ntheir donkeys and came into the town, showing their passports at the\ncity gates.\n\nThe women, seeing Ulenspiegel wounded and bleeding while Lamme rode\nhis donkey as though he had been the victor, threw many a glance of\ntender commiseration upon Ulenspiegel, and pointed their fingers at\nLamme, saying: \"That is the rascal who wounded his friend.\"\n\nLamme all this time was anxiously scrutinizing the crowd, hoping to\ndiscover his wife among them; but all was in vain, and he was sad\nat heart.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXI\n\n\n\"Where are you going now?\" said Lamme.\n\n\"To Maestricht,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"But stay, my son. I have heard that the army of the Duke is camped\nall round the city and that he himself is within. Our passports\nwill be of no use to us there. Even if they satisfy the Spanish\nsoldiers, we shall still be arrested in the city and put through an\nexamination. And in the meantime they will become aware of the death\nof the evangelists and our days on this earth will be numbered.\"\n\nTo this Ulenspiegel made answer:\n\n\"The crows and the owls and the vultures will make short work of their\nrepast. Already no doubt the dead bodies have become unrecognizable. As\nfor our passports, there is no reason why they should not remain\neffective. But if the murder of the evangelists becomes known we\nshould be arrested as you say. Nevertheless, whatever happens we\nshall have to go to Maestricht and pass through Landen on the way.\"\n\n\"We shall be captured,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"We shall get through,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nConversing in this wise they came to the inn of La Pie, where they\nfound a good supper awaiting them, and good quarters for the night,\nboth for themselves and for the donkeys; and on the morrow they took\nthe road again for Landen.\n\nNot far from that town they came to a large farm. There Ulenspiegel\nwhistled like a lark, and from the interior came the sound of a warlike\ncockcrow in answer. After that a jolly-looking farmer appeared at the\ndoor of the farmhouse, and greeted them as friends and good Beggarmen,\nand bade them welcome.\n\n\"Who is this man?\" Lamme inquired.\n\n\"His name is Thomas Utenhove,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"and he is a valiant\nProtestant. The man-servants and maid-servants that work on the farm\nare fellows with him in the cause of freedom of conscience.\"\n\nThen Utenhove said:\n\n\"You are the envoys of the Prince? Come in then, eat and drink\nwith me.\"\n\nAnd the ham was crackling in the frying-pan, the sausages likewise,\nand the wine flowed and the glasses were filled again. And Lamme drank\nlike dry sand, and ate his fill. And the boys and girls of the farm\ncame one after another and thrust their noses into the half-open door\nto gaze on him as he worked away so hard. But the men were jealous,\nsaying that they also would be able to eat and drink as bravely if\nthey had the chance.\n\nWhen all was finished, Thomas Utenhove said:\n\n\"One hundred of our peasants will be leaving us this week under pretext\nof going to work on the dikes at Bruges and thereabouts. They will\nbe setting out in small bands of five or six at a time, and all by\ndifferent routes. At Bruges they will find certain barges waiting\nfor them to take them by sea to Emden.\"\n\n\"Will these men be provided with arms and with money?\" inquired\nUlenspiegel.\n\n\"Each man will carry ten florins and a heavy cutlass.\"\n\n\"God and the Prince will reward you,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"But tell me,\" said the farmer, \"is Edzard, Count of Frise, still\nfriendly to the Prince?\"\n\n\"He feigns not to be,\" answered Ulenspiegel. \"Nevertheless, he is\ngiving harbourage all the time to the Prince's ships at Emden.\"\nAnd then he added: \"We are on the way to Maestricht.\"\n\n\"You cannot go there,\" said the farmer. \"The Duke's army is camped\nin front of the town and all round it.\"\n\nWith that he conducted his visitors up into the loft, whence they\ncould see the standards of enemy cavalry and infantry moving about\nin the distance over the plain.\n\nUlenspiegel said:\n\n\"I have a plan to get through, if only they who have authority in this\nplace would give me leave to get married. But for wife I should need\na sweet and a gentle and comely lass who would be willing to marry\nme--if not for always, then for a week at least.\"\n\nLamme gasped with astonishment.\n\n\"Don't do it, my son,\" he cried. \"She will only leave you, and then,\nall alone, you will burn with the fire of love; and the bed where\nnow you sleep so sweetly will seem to you nothing better than a bed\nof prickly holly leaves, and gentle sleep will shun you for evermore.\"\n\n\"Still I must marry,\" replied Ulenspiegel. And then to Thomas Utenhove:\n\"Come now, find me a wife; rich or poor, I don't care which! And I\nwill take her to church, and our marriage shall be blessed by the\npriest. And he shall give us our marriage lines. Though, to be sure,\nwe shall not hold them valid as being given by the hand of a Papist and\nan Inquisitor. Nevertheless they will be good enough for our purpose,\nand we will prepare ourselves, as is the custom, for our wedding trip.\"\n\n\"But what about the wife?\"\n\n\"That's your look-out,\" answered Ulenspiegel. \"But when you have found\nher I shall take two wagons and decorate them with wreaths of fir\nbranches and holly and paper flowers, and in the wagons themselves\nI shall dispose the men whom you wish to be conveyed to the Prince\nof Orange.\"\n\n\"But your wife?\" persisted Thomas Utenhove. \"Where will you find her?\"\n\n\"Here, I doubt not,\" answered Ulenspiegel. \"And then I shall harness\ntwo of your own horses to one of the wagons, and our two donkeys to the\nother. In the first wagon will ride my wife and myself, together with\nmy friend Lamme here, and the witnesses of our nuptials. In the second\nwagon will follow the musicians, the players upon the drum, the fife,\nand the shawm. And then, with all our joyous wedding-flags a-flying,\nand with music playing, and we ourselves singing and drinking each\nother's healths, we shall ride along at the trot by the high road\nthat leads to the Galgen-veld--the Field of the Gallows--which for\nus indeed will be the Field of Liberty.\"\n\n\"I will do all in my power to help you,\" said Thomas Utenhove,\n\"but the women and girls will want to follow their men-folk.\"\n\n\"We will go where God wills,\" said a pretty-looking girl who had\nthrust in her head at the half-opened door.\n\n\"You can have four wagons if need be,\" said Thomas Utenhove, \"and by\nthat means we should be able to convey as many as five-and-twenty men.\"\n\n\"The Duke will be nicely fooled,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"And the Prince's fleet will gain the service of some fine soldiers,\"\nadded Thomas Utenhove.\n\nThen he caused a bell to be rung to summon his footman and his\nservants, and when they were all assembled he said to them:\n\n\"All you that are from the land of Zeeland, women as well as men,\nlisten now to me. Ulenspiegel, who is hither come from Flanders,\nhas a plan to convey you through the enemy's lines, disguised as the\nfollowers in a wedding procession.\"\n\nAnd thereat the men and women of Zeeland cried out with one accord:\n\n\"We are ready, even unto the death!\"\n\nAnd the men said one to another:\n\n\"What joy it will be to exchange this land of slavery for the freedom\nof the sea!\"\n\nAnd the women and girls said likewise:\n\n\"Let us follow our husbands and our lovers; we belong to Zeeland and\nthere we shall find asile!\"\n\nNow Ulenspiegel had noticed a young and pretty maid, and he addressed\nher jokingly:\n\n\"I would you were my wife!\"\n\nBut she blushed and answered him:\n\n\"I would have thee for my husband--but at the church only, remember!\"\n\nThe women laughed and said among themselves:\n\n\"She is in love with Hans Utenhove, the master's son. He will go\nalong with her, doubtless.\"\n\n\"You say truly,\" Hans replied.\n\nAnd his father said:\n\n\"You have my permission.\"\n\nThen all the men put on their best clothes, their doublets and hose\nof velvet, and the great opperst-kleed over all. As for the women,\nthey wore black petticoats and pleated shoes. Round their necks they\nwore a white ruff, their bodices were embroidered in gold, scarlet,\nand blue; their skirts were of black wool with broad stripes of black\nvelvet thereon, and their stockings were of black wool, and their\nshoes of velvet with silver buckles.\n\nThereupon Thomas Utenhove went to the church and put into the hands\nof the priest a couple of rycksdaelders, asking him at the same time\nto join in marriage Thylbert the son of Claes (that is Ulenspiegel)\nand Tannekin Pieters. And this the cure consented to do.\n\nUlenspiegel then went to church, followed by the wedding\nprocession. And there, in the presence of the priest, Tannekin was\nmade his wife.\n\nAnd she looked so pretty and so sweet, so complaisant and so tender,\nthat right willingly would he have eaten her up as she had been a\nripe apple of love. And he told her so, not daring to do more for the\nrespect he felt for her gentle loveliness. But she pouted her lips,\nand bade him leave her alone, for that Hans was watching him and\nwould kill him without a doubt.\n\nAnd a certain damsel was jealous, and said to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Seek elsewhere for a lover. Do you not see that she is afraid of\nher own man?\"\n\nLamme clapped his hands together and cried:\n\n\"You cannot have them all, you rascal!\"\n\nSo Ulenspiegel, making the best of his misfortune, returned to the\nfarm with the wedding guests. And there he drank and sang and made\nmerry, clinking many a glass with the damsel that was jealous. And\nat this Hans was glad, but not so Tannekin, nor yet the youth that\nwas betrothed to the damsel.\n\nAt noon, while the sun shone down from a clear sky and a fresh breeze\nwas blowing, the wedding carriages started off. They were decorated\nwith flowers and every kind of greenery, with flags flying, and drums\nand fifes, bagpipes and shawms playing most joyfully.\n\nNow it happened that in the camp of the Duke of Alba there was another\nfete in progress; and the sentries of the guard, having sounded the\nalarm, ran to the Duke, crying:\n\n\"The enemy is at hand. We have heard the noise of drums and fifes,\nand we have seen their banners in the distance. There is a strong\nforce of cavalry that is hoping to draw you into some ambush. The\nmain body, doubtless, is not far off.\"\n\nThe Duke at once sent to warn the colonels and captains, and himself\nordered the army to be massed in battle array, and dispatched certain\nscouting parties on reconnaissance.\n\nThen it was that there came on the scene the four carriages, making\nstraight for the Duke's gunners. And in the chariots were none but\nmen and women dancing and drinking and playing most joyously on fifes\nand drums and bagpipes and shawms. And wondrous was the din that came\nfrom all those instruments.\n\nWhen the procession had been brought to a halt, the Duke himself came\nup, attracted by the noise, and he saw the newly married bride where\nshe stood in one of the four chariots; and beside her was Ulenspiegel,\nthe bridegroom, covered with flowers; and all the other peasants,\nboth men and women, who had by now got down from the chariots and\nwere dancing all round them and offering drink to the soldiers.\n\nThe Duke and his friends were much astonished at the simplicity of\nthese peasants who sang and made merry when all around them was an\narmy ready to do battle.\n\nAnd now they that remained in the chariots were giving all the wine\nto the soldiers, and they in their turn were feted by them and made\nmuch of; till at last, when the wine began to run out, the peasants\ncontinued on their way again. The drums and fifes and bagpipes\nstruck up once more and the cavalcade moved off without any let or\nhindrance. And the soldiers, in high good humour, let off a volley\nfrom their guns in honour of the festal occasion.\n\nAnd thus they came to Maestricht, where Ulenspiegel took counsel with\nthe agents of the Reformers as to the best way of sending ships loaded\nwith arms and munitions to the assistance of the Prince's fleet.\n\nAnd from there they went to Landen and to other places, disguised as\nworking men.\n\nThe Duke was not long in learning the trick that had been played on\nhim, and there came into his hands a lampoon which was in circulation\nat the time, with this refrain:\n\n\n Bloody Duke,\n Silly Duke,\n Hast thou seen the Bride?\n\n\nAnd every time that the Duke made a mistake in his general-ship the\nsoldiers would sing:\n\n\n The Duke he can't see clearly;\n He has seen the Bride!\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXII\n\n\nNow in those days the Duke divided his army into two parts, one of\nwhich he ordered to march towards the Duchy of Luxemburg and the\nother to the Marquisate of Namur.\n\n\"These tactics of the military are all one to me,\" said Ulenspiegel\nto Lamme, \"let us go on our way with confidence.\"\n\nThey were walking along the banks of the Meuse, near the town of\nMaestricht, and Lamme saw that Ulenspiegel gazed attentively at all\nthe boats that were sailing on the river. Suddenly he came to a stand\nbefore one of these boats upon whose prow was carved the figure of\na mermaid. And the mermaid carried a shield and on it in gold upon\na black ground were blazoned the letters J.H.S., being the monogram\nof Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Ulenspiegel signed to Lamme\nthat he should stand still, and then he began to sing like a lark\nmost joyously.\n\nA man appeared on the boat and began to crow like a cock. At this\nUlenspiegel set up a noise like a donkey's bray, which the man\nimmediately echoed with interest. And the two donkeys of Lamme and\nUlenspiegel lay back their ears and joined in the chorus with their\nown natural voices. Sundry women and men were passing along that way,\nthe latter riding on the backs of the horses which were tugging the\nbarges along the tow-path. And Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:\n\n\"This boatman is making mock of us and our good steeds. What do you\nsay to going and attacking him on his boat?\"\n\n\"Let us rather entice him over to the bank,\" replied Lamme.\n\nBut a woman who happened to be passing at the moment said:\n\n\"If you don't want to come back with your arms cut off, your backs\nbroken, and your noses in pieces, let me advise you to let this\nStercke Pier bray at his ease.\"\n\n\"Ee--aw! Ee--aw! Ee--aw!\" went the boatman.\n\n\"Let him sing,\" continued the woman. \"Only the other day he showed us\nhow he could lift on his shoulders a truck of heavy barrels of beer,\nand hold back yet another truck that was being dragged forwards by a\nstrong horse. And at the inn there\"--and as she spoke she pointed to\nthe tavern of the Blauwe Torre--\"it was there one day that he threw\nhis knife at a plank of oak-wood twelve inches thick and pierced it\nat a distance of twenty paces!\"\n\n\"Ee--aw! Ee--aw! Ee--aw!\" went the boatman, and now he was joined by\na youngster of twelve or so, who climbed on to the bridge of the boat,\nand began to bray in like manner.\n\nBut Ulenspiegel answered the woman:\n\n\"He's nothing to us, your Peter the Strong! For however strong he is,\nwe are stronger! See my friend Lamme here. He could eat up two men\nlike that without so much as a hiccup!\"\n\n\"What's this you're saying, my son?\" demanded Lamme.\n\n\"The truth,\" answered Ulenspiegel. \"And do not let your modesty\ncontradict me. For of a truth, good people, women and working men of\nMaestricht, I tell you that before long you shall see my friend here\nbelabouring and beating to nothing this famous Stercke Pier of yours!\"\n\n\"Be quiet,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"Your strength is famous far and wide,\" answered Ulenspiegel. \"You\ncannot conceal it.\"\n\n\"Ee--aw!\" went the boatman. \"Ee--aw!\" went the boy.\n\nSuddenly Ulenspiegel began again to sing like a lark very melodiously,\nand the men and women and workmen standing by were enchanted, and\nbegan to ask him where he had learnt the art of whistling so divinely.\n\n\"In Paradise,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"whence I come.\" Then he addressed\nhimself to the boatman, who was still continuing his braying and\nmocking:\n\n\"Why do you stay there on your boat, you good-for-nothing? Haven't you\nthe courage to come and jeer at us and our steeds from the dry land?\"\n\n\"Haven't you the courage for that?\" said Lamme.\n\n\"Ee--aw! Ee--aw!\" went the boatman. \"Come, my good bray-masters,\ncome up rather into my boat.\"\n\nThen Ulenspiegel whispered to Lamme to do exactly as he did. But to\nthe boatman he said aloud:\n\n\"If you are Stercke Pier, I am Tyl Ulenspiegel. And these two here\nare our donkeys, Jef and Jan, and they know how to bray better than\nyou do, for that is their natural way of talking. As for coming on\nto your leaky decks, it is the last thing we wish to do. Your boat\nis like a tub, and each time that a wave comes along it shivers,\nand it knows no other way of walking save sideways-on like a crab.\"\n\n\"Yes, like a crab!\" said Lamme.\n\nTo which the boatman made answer:\n\n\"What are you croaking there between your teeth, great block of fat?\n\nAt this Lamme fell into a rage, crying:\n\n\"You are no Christian to make mock of my infirmity. My fat is my own,\nlet me tell you, and is the result of the good food I eat, whereas you,\nold bag of bones that you are, you have never lived upon aught better\nthan smoked herrings and old candle-wicks if one may judge anything\nfrom the lean flesh that shows through the tears in your measly hose.\"\n\n\"Ee--aw! Ee--aw!\" cried the boatman, and Lamme would have got down\nfrom his donkey to collect stones to throw at him had not Ulenspiegel\nsaid him nay.\n\nThe boatman now began to whisper something into the ear of the lad\nwho was still \"ee--awing\" at his side, and a moment later the lad\nunfastened a little boat which lay by the side of the big one, and\nwith the end of the boat-hook shoved himself cleverly off towards the\nriver-bank. When the boy was quite close to the bank he drew himself\nup proudly and threw down this challenge:\n\n\"My master wants to know if you will have the courage to come on to\nhis boat and join with him in a battle of fist and feet. And these\ngood men and women shall be the arbiters.\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" said Ulenspiegel in a dignified tone of voice.\n\n\"We accept the challenge,\" said Lamme haughtily.\n\nIt was midday. The workmen who laboured on the dike and the\nroad-menders and the builders of ships were about to take their\nrepast of beans and boiled beef which had been brought them by their\nwomen-folk or their children. All these, then, who stood around\nbegan to laugh and to clap their hands at the prospect of a fight,\nlooking forward with joy to the chance of seeing the head of one of\nthe combatants broken, or his body thrown in pieces into the river.\n\n\"My son,\" said Lamme under his breath, \"the boatman will assuredly\nthrow us into the water.\"\n\n\"Let him throw you in if he wants to,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"The big one is afraid,\" said the crowd of workmen.\n\nLamme, who was still sitting his donkey, turned round and gave them\na look of anger, but they jeered at him the more.\n\n\"Come on,\" said Lamme. \"Let us to the boat, and then they shall see\nif I am afraid.\"\n\nAt these words the jeers broke out again, and Ulenspiegel said:\n\n\"Come, let us to the boat!\"\n\nWhen, therefore, they had dismounted from their donkeys they threw the\nbridles to the boatman's lad, who caressed the animals in friendly\nwise and led them to a place where he saw some thistles growing. At\nthe same time Ulenspiegel seized hold of the boat-hook, made Lamme\nget into the skiff, and then steered straight for the big boat. There\nhe mounted on to the deck by the help of a rope, and Lamme climbed\nup in front of him, puffing and blowing.\n\nArrived on the bridge of the boat, Ulenspiegel leant down as if\nto lace up his boots, and at the same time he spoke a word into\nthe boatman's ear, who straightway laughed and gave Lamme a curious\nlook. Then he began to roar out at him every kind of insult, calling\nhim worthless rogue, a man bloated with vicious fat, prison-bred,\npap-eter, and at the same time inquiring of him how many tons of oil\nthey gave him when he was bled.\n\nAll of a sudden, without waiting to reply, Lamme threw himself like\na mad bull upon the boatman, knocked him down, and began to beat\nhim with all his might. The boatman, however, did not receive much\ninjury, forasmuch as Lamme's arms were but weak on account of their\nfatness. And the boatman suffered himself to be thus dealt with despite\nthe fact that he was making a great pretence at resistance all the\ntime. And the men and women who were watching the battle from the\nbank were astonished, and exclaimed to each other: \"Who would have\nthought that this fat man could be so fiery!\"\n\nAnd they clapped their hands while Lamme continued to belabour the\nboatman most unmercifully. But the latter took care only to protect\nhis face. Suddenly Lamme was seen to be kneeling upon the breast of\nStercke Pier, with one hand on his adversary's throat, and the other\nraised to strike.\n\n\"Cry for mercy,\" he said furiously, \"or else I shall make you pass\nthrough the planks of your tub.\"\n\nAt this the boatman began to cough, thereby signifying that he could\nnot speak, and demanded mercy with a sign of his hand.\n\nThen Lamme was seen to pick up his adversary in a most generous\nmanner, who thereupon, standing upright and turning his back towards\nthe onlookers, put out his tongue at Ulenspiegel. Now the latter was\nrocking with laughter to see Lamme shaking the feather on his cap so\nproudly and walking about in triumph upon the deck of the boat.\n\nAnd the men and women, boys and girls, who were watching from the\nbank applauded their loudest and cried out: \"Long live the conqueror\nof Stercke Pier! He is a man of iron! Did you see how he cuffed him\nwith his fist, and how he threw him down on his back with a blow\nof his hand? But see, they are now about to drink together to make\nthe peace! Stercke Pier is coming up from the hold with wine and\nsausages!\" And in very truth, Stercke Pier might now have been seen\ncoming on deck with two tankards and a quart of white Meuse wine. And\nLamme and the boatman made their peace. After which Lamme asked his\nnew friend what sort of fricassees they were that were being cooked\nin the hold of the ship; for at one end of the deck was a chimney\nwhence rose a column of thick black smoke. And the boatman made answer:\n\n\"Since you are men of valiant heart, knowing well the song of the lark,\nthe bird of freedom, and the warlike clarion of the cock, and the bray\nof the ass withal, come you with me and I will show you my kitchen.\"\n\nAnd so saying he led the way into the hold, where, removing certain\nplanks from the floor, he disclosed some mighty piles of gun-barrels,\ntogether with a quantity of iron lances, halberds, sword-blades,\nand a great heap of powder and shot.\n\n\"Where shall I take them?\" he asked.\n\n\"To Emden, through the North Sea,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"good Beggarman\nthat you are!\"\n\n\"The sea is big,\" said the boatman.\n\n\"Big for battle,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"God is with us,\" said the boatman.\n\n\"Who then can be against us?\" cried Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd when they had thus spoken, the boatman conducted Lamme and\nUlenspiegel on deck, with many words of cheer and good counsel. Then\nthey rowed to the bank, where they mounted again upon their donkeys\nand set off towards Liege.\n\n\"My son,\" said Lamme whilst they were ambling gently along, \"pray tell\nme why did that man, strong as he was, allow himself to be beaten by\nme so cruelly?\"\n\n\"To the end,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"that wherever we go, the fear of\nyour prowess may go before us. That indeed will prove a more powerful\nescort than twenty landsknechts. For who would dare to measure\nhis strength with Lamme the mighty, Lamme the conqueror? Lamme the\nmatchless bull among men, that overcame in the sight of all beholders\nthe famous Stercke Pier--Peter the Strong--and threw him to the ground\nlike a feather?\"\n\n\"You say well, my son,\" said Lamme, drawing himself up in the saddle.\n\n\"And I say what is true,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"for did you not\nnotice the faces that looked out so curiously from the houses on the\noutskirts of this village? They were pointing at the terrible figure\nof Lamme the Conqueror! And do you see these men who are gazing on\nyou even now with such envy, and these sorry cowards who uncover\nas you pass? Answer to their salute, O Lamme, my sweet one, nor be\ndisdainful of the populace. Behold, the very children know your name\nand whisper it with terror.\"\n\nAnd Lamme passed along proudly, saluting right and left like a\nking. And the fame of his valour followed him from village to village\nand from town to town, as far as Liege, Chocquier, La Neuville, Vesin,\nand Namur, to which place, however, our travellers gave a wide berth\nbecause of the three evangelists. And so they wended along by the banks\nof river and canal, and everywhere the song of the lark answered the\nsong of the cock. And wherever they went they found that in the sacred\ncause of Liberty weapons were being forged and armour furbished for\nthe ships that stood by along the coast to carry away.\n\nAnd Lamme, preceded everywhere by his glorious reputation, began\nhimself to believe in his own prowess, and growing proud and warlike he\nlet his beard grow too. And Ulenspiegel called him Lamme the Lion. But\nLamme did not continue in this purpose longer than the fourth day,\nbecause the hairs of his beard began to tickle him. And he passed\na razor over the surface of his victorious countenance, so that it\nappeared thereafter like his own face once more, round and full as\nthe sun, ablaze with the flame of good nourishment. And thus they\ncame at length to Harlebeke.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXIII\n\n\nAt Harlebeke Lamme renewed his provision of oliekoekjes, eating\nseven-and-twenty of them on the spot and putting thirty away into his\nbasket. The same evening they came to Courtrai and dismounted from\ntheir donkeys at the tavern of the Bee that was kept by one Gilis\nVan den Ende, who himself came to the inn door as soon as he heard\nthe singing of the lark.\n\nAt once the new arrivals found that everything was made like sugar and\nhoney for them; for mine host, as soon as he had seen the letter from\nthe Prince, presented Ulenspiegel with fifty caroluses on the Prince's\nbehalf, nor would he accept any payment at all for the turkey which\nhe served for their dinner, nor yet for the dobbel clauwaert which he\ngave them to drink. He warned them also that there were many spies\nin Courtrai, and that it behoved both Ulenspiegel and his companion\nto keep a close watch on what they said during their stay in the city.\n\n\"We shall be careful,\" said Ulenspiegel and Lamme. And so saying they\ncame out of the tavern.\n\nThe gables of the houses were all gilded in the rays of the setting\nsun. The birds sang in the lime-trees, and Lamme and Ulenspiegel\nwandered at their ease along the streets of the town. All at once\nLamme said:\n\n\"I asked Martin Van den Ende if by chance he had seen any one at\nall resembling my wife in Courtrai, and he told me that there were a\nnumber of women that were accustomed to meet together of an evening\nat the sign of the Rainbow, a house that is kept by a woman called\nLa Stevenyne, just outside the town on the road to Bruges. I shall\ngo there.\"\n\n\"I will meet you anon,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"But now I would see\nthe sights of the town. If I meet your wife I will send her on to\nyou. Meanwhile remember what the innkeeper said, and keep your own\ncounsel if you value your own skin.\"\n\n\"I will be careful,\" said Lamme.\n\nUlenspiegel walked about by himself till the sun set and night began\nto come on quickly. He had come to the Pierpot-Straetje--the Alley\nof the Pot of Stone--and there he heard the sound of a viola being\nplayed most melodiously, and presently he noticed a white figure\nthat beckoned to him from a distance, then retreated, playing the\nviola all the time. It was a woman, and she sang like a seraphim,\na sweet, slow song, stopping now and then to look behind her with a\nbeckoning gesture, then retreating again. But Ulenspiegel ran quickly\nand overtook her, and was about to speak to her when she sealed his\nlips with a hand all scented with benjamin.\n\n\"Are you a working man or a nobleman?\" she asked.\n\n\"I am Ulenspiegel.\"\n\n\"Are you rich?\"\n\n\"Rich enough for you.\"\n\n\"But you have not seen me!\" And she opened the lantern she carried\nso as to let the light shine straight upon her face.\n\n\"You are beautiful,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Then come with me,\" she said.\n\nAnd she brought him to the house of La Stevenyne, on the road to\nBruges, at the sign of the Rainbow.\n\nThey entered a large room where a great number of girls were assembled,\nwho all looked up jealously at Ulenspiegel's companion as she came\nin. And suddenly Ulenspiegel saw Lamme, sitting there in a corner by\na little table whereon was a candle, a ham, and a pot of beer. By his\nside were a couple of girls, who were endeavouring to get a share in\nthe ham and the beer; but Lamme was trying to prevent them. As soon\nas he noticed Ulenspiegel he jumped up, crying:\n\n\"Blessed be God who has given back to me my friend! Bring more drink,\nbaesine!\"\n\nAt this Ulenspiegel drew out his purse, saying:\n\n\"Yes, bring us to drink to the value of what is in here!\" and he\njingled the money that was in the purse.\n\n\"No, by heaven!\" cried Lamme, seizing the purse. \"It's I that shall\npay, not you.\"\n\nUlenspiegel would have recovered the purse by force, but Lamme kept\ntight hold. As they were struggling together, the one to keep the\npurse, the other to get it back again, Lamme whispered by fits and\nstarts into Ulenspiegel's ear:\n\n\"Listen. Constables. Here ... four of them ... in the little room\nwith three girls. Two outside waiting for you and for me.... I tried\nto go out ... prevented.... The girl over there in the brocaded gown\nis a spy ... Stevenyne a spy!\"\n\nAnd all the time they were fighting Ulenspiegel listened attentively,\nthough he kept on crying aloud:\n\n\"Give me back my purse, you rascal!\"\n\nAnd they seized each other by the neck and by the shoulders, and\nrolled together on the floor, while Lamme went on with his tidings\nto Ulenspiegel. Suddenly there appeared on the scene mine host of the\ntavern of the Bee; and he was followed by seven other men, with whom,\nhowever, he apparently had no connexion. As he came in he crowed like\na cock and Ulenspiegel whistled like a lark. Then, seeing Ulenspiegel\nand Lamme still struggling on the floor, he inquired of La Stevenyne\nwho they might be. \"Two rascals,\" she told him, \"who ought to be\nparted from each other instead of being allowed to make all this\ndisturbance ere they are brought to the gallows.\"\n\n\"If any one tries to separate us,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"we will make\nhim eat of these paving-stones.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Lamme, \"we will make him eat these paving-stones!\"\n\nThen Ulenspiegel whispered something in Lamme's ear. \"The innkeeper\nis come to rescue us.\" And presently the innkeeper, who must have\ndivined some mystery was afoot, joined the melee on the floor with\nhis head down, and Lamme attacked him in the ear with these words:\n\n\"You have come to rescue us? How will you do it?\"\n\nThe innkeeper made pretence of pulling Ulenspiegel by the ears,\nbut managed to say to him the while, under his breath:\n\n\"These seven men are on your side ... they are strong men\n... butchers.... I must be off ... too well known in the town ... but\nwhen I have gone.... 'T is van te beven de klinkaert.... Break up\neverything....\"\n\n\"I understand,\" said Ulenspiegel, rising at the same time from the\nfloor and kicking out at the innkeeper. The latter struck Ulenspiegel\nin his turn and Ulenspiegel said:\n\n\"You hit hard, my hearty!\"\n\n\"As hard as a hail-storm,\" said the innkeeper. And quickly seizing\nthe purse from Lamme he handed it back to Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"You may stand me a drink, you rogue, now you are come into your\nright mind again.\"\n\n\"I'll stand you one, you scandalous scamp,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"See how insolent he is,\" said La Stevenyne.\n\n\"As insolent as you are beautiful,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nNow La Stevenyne was sixty years old at least, and her face was like\nthe fruit of the medlar, but all yellow with bile, and she had a\nlarge port-wine stain on her left cheek.\n\nWhen the innkeeper had had his drink, he paid the bill and\ndeparted. The seven butchers meanwhile made sundry knowing grimaces at\nthe constables and La Stevenyne. One of them indicated by a gesture\nthat he held Ulenspiegel for a simpleton, and that he would be able\nto do for him very easily. But all the time that he was putting out\nhis tongue in mockery to La Stevenyne, who herself was grinning and\nlaughing, he whispered in Ulenspiegel's ear:\n\n\"'T is van te beven de klinkaert--it is time to rattle the\nglasses.\" Then, in his ordinary tone of voice, and pointing at the\nconstables:\n\n\"Gentle Reformer,\" he said, \"we are all on your side. Stand us some\nfood and drink, won't you?\"\n\nAnd La Stevenyne laughed with pleasure, and put out her tongue at\nUlenspiegel when his back was turned. And La Gilline, she of the\nbrocaded gown, she also put out her tongue at Ulenspiegel, and the\ngirls all began to whisper one to another: \"Behold the spy that by\nher beauty draweth men to the torture and bringeth them at last to a\ndeath more cruel even than torture. Above seven-and-twenty Protestants\nhath she betrayed already. Gilline is her name, and now she is in\na rapture of joy as she thinks of the reward she will get for her\ninformation--the first hundred caroluses, to wit, from the estate of\neach of her victims. But she will not laugh when she bethinketh her\nthat she must share one-half of the spoil with La Stevenyne!\"\n\nAnd every one there present--the constables, the butchers, and the\ngirls themselves--put out their tongues in mockery of Ulenspiegel. And\nLamme sweated great drops of sweat, and became red with anger like\nthe crest of a cock. But he would not let himself say a word.\n\n\"Come, stand us food and drink,\" said the butchers and the constables.\n\n\"Very well,\" said Ulenspiegel, jingling yet again the money in his\npurse. \"Bring us meat and drink, my sweet Stevenyne; bring us drink\nin glasses that can sing!\"\n\nAt this the girls began to laugh anew; but La Stevenyne went down to\nthe cellar and brought back with her ham, sausages, black-pudding\nomelettes, and some of those singing glasses, that are so called\nbecause they are mounted on tall stems and can be made to resound\nlike a bell when some one strikes them. Then Ulenspiegel said:\n\n\"Let him who is hungry eat, and he who is thirsty let him drink!\" And\nthe constables, the girls, the butchers, Gilline, and La Stevenyne\napplauded these words of Ulenspiegel, clapping their hands and stamping\ntheir feet; and then they all sat down to the feast. Ulenspiegel,\nLamme, and the seven butchers sat at the big table of honour, the\nconstables and the girls at two smaller tables; and they ate and\ndrank right heartily. And the constables invited their two comrades,\nwho had been waiting outside the house, to come in and join them.\n\nLa Stevenyne said with a snigger:\n\n\"Remember, no one can leave till he has paid me.\"\n\nAnd she went and locked all the doors, and put the keys in her pocket.\n\nAt this La Gilline raised her glass.\n\n\"The bird is in its cage,\" she cried. \"Let us drink.\"\n\nBut two of the girls, whose names were Gena and Margot, said to her:\n\n\"Is this yet another man that you are going to lure to his death,\nyou wicked one?\"\n\n\"I know not,\" said Gilline; \"let us drink.\"\n\nBut the girls would not drink with her.\n\nAnd Gilline took her viola and sang in French this song:\n\n\n Au son de la viole,\n Je chante nuit et jour;\n Je suis la fille-folle,\n La vendeuse d'amour.\n\n Astarte de mes hanches\n Fit les lignes de feu;\n J'ai les epaules blanches,\n Et mon beau corps est Dieu.\n\n Je suis froide ou brulante,\n Tendre au doux nonchaloir:\n Tiede, eperdue, ardente,\n Mon homme, a ton vouloir.\n\n Vois, je vends tout: mes charmes,\n Mon ame et mes yeux bleus;\n Bonheur, rires et larmes,\n Et la Mort si tu veux.\n\n Au son de la viole,\n Je chante nuit et jour;\n Je suis la fille-folle,\n La vendeuse d'amour.\n\n\nAs she sang this song La Gilline looked so beautiful, so soft and\nfragrant, that all the men, the constables and the butchers, Lamme\nand Ulenspiegel himself, sat smiling there, quite melted and overcome\nby her charm.\n\nAll at once La Gilline gave a loud laugh and fixed her gaze on\nUlenspiegel:\n\n\"And it's thus that the birds are caged,\" she said. And the spell of\nher charm was broken.\n\nUlenspiegel, Lamme, and the butchers looked at one another.\n\n\"Well now,\" said La Stevenyne, \"are you going to pay the bill, my\nLord Ulenspiegel?\"\n\n\"We shall pay nothing in advance,\" said he.\n\n\"Then I shall pay myself later on--out of your inheritance,\" said La\nStevenyne. After that:\n\n\"Let us drink!\" she cried.\n\n\"Let us drink!\" cried the constables.\n\n\"Let us drink!\" cried La Stevenyne. \"The doors are shut; the windows\nare strongly barred; the birds are in their cage. Let us drink!\"\n\n\"Let us drink then,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"And bring us wine of the best\nto crown the banquet.\"\n\nLa Stevenyne brought in more wine. And now they were all seated,\ndrinking and eating, the constables and the girls together. But the\nseven butchers were at the same table with Ulenspiegel and Lamme,\nand they kept on throwing pieces of ham, and sausages, omelettes, and\nbottles of wine to the table of the girls, who themselves caught the\nfood in mid-flight as carp catch the flies that buzz on the surface\nof a fishpond. And La Stevenyne laughed and grinned, and pointed to\nthe packets of candles which hung over the counter. And these were\nthe candles that the gay girls were used to purchase, five to the\npound. Then La Stevenyne said to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"On his way to the stake it is the custom for the condemned man to\ncarry a wax candle. Shall I make you a present of one?\"\n\n\"Let us drink!\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nBut La Gilline said: \"Look at Ulenspiegel's eyes. They are shining\nlike the eyes of a swan that is about to die.\"\n\n\"Wouldn't you like to eat one of the candles?\" said La Stevenyne. \"They\nwould serve you in hell to lighten your eternal damnation.\"\n\n\"I see clearly enough to admire your ugly mug,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nSuddenly he struck the stem of his wine-glass and clapped his hands\ntogether with a rhythm like that an upholsterer uses when he beats\nthe wool of a mattress with his stick.\n\n\"'T is van te beven de klinkaert,\" he said; \"it is time to make the\nglasses shiver--the glasses which resound....\"\n\nAnd this, in Flanders, is the signal that the drinkers make when they\nare angry, and when they are like to ransack and despoil in their\nwrath the houses of ill fame. So even now did Ulenspiegel raise his\nglass and drink, and then did he made it vibrate upon the table,\ncrying yet again:\n\n\"'T is van te beven de klinkaert.\"\n\nAnd the seven butchers did likewise.\n\nThen a great stillness fell upon the company. La Gilline grew pale;\nLa Stevenyne looked astonished. The constables said:\n\n\"Are the seven with them too?\" But the butchers winked their eyes\nand reassured them; yet all the time they continued without ceasing,\nand louder and louder as Ulenspiegel led them:\n\n\"'T is van te beven de klinkaert. 'T is van te beven de klinkaert.\"\n\nLa Stevenyne took another draught of wine to give herself courage.\n\nThen Ulenspiegel struck his fist on the table in that regular rhythm\nwhich the upholsterers use as they beat their mattresses; and the\nseven did likewise; and the glasses, jugs, trenchers, flagons, and\ngoblets began to dance upon the table, slowly at first, but beginning\nsoon to knock against each other, and to break and to heel over on\none side as they fell. And all the time echoed and re-echoed, more\nsternly menacing, with every monotonous repetition:\n\n\"'T is van te beven de klinkaert.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said La Stevenyne, \"they will break everything.\" And her teeth\nseemed to show farther out from her lips than ever. And the hot blood\nof their fury and of their anger began to flame in the souls of the\nseven butchers, and in the souls of Lamme and Ulenspiegel. Till at\nlast, without ceasing once their melancholy and monotonous chant,\nall they that were sitting at Ulenspiegel's table took their glasses,\nand brake them upon the table, and at the same moment they drew their\ncutlasses and leapt upon the chairs. And they made such a din with\ntheir song that all the windows in the house shook. Then like a band\nof infuriated devils they went round the room, visiting each table\nin turn, crying without ceasing:\n\n\"'T is van te beven de klinkaert.\"\n\nAnd the constables rose up trembling with terror and seized their ropes\nand chains. But the butchers, together with Lamme and Ulenspiegel,\nthrust their knives quickly back into their cases, and sprang up to\nrun nimbly through the chamber, hitting out right and left with their\nchairs as though they had been cudgels. And they spared nothing there\nexcept the girls, for everything else they brake in pieces--furniture,\nwindows, chests, plates, pots, trenchers, glasses, and flagons, hitting\nout at the constables without mercy, and crying out all the time in the\nrhythm of the mattress-beaters: \"'T is van te beven de klinkaert. 'T\nis van te beven de klinkaert.\" And Ulenspiegel, who had given La\nStevenyne a blow on the nose with his fist, and had taken all her keys\nand put them into his satchel, was now amusing himself by forcing her\nto eat those candles of hers. And the girls laughed at the sight of\nher as she sneezed with anger and tried to spit out the candles--but\nin vain, for her mouth was too full. And all the time Ulenspiegel and\nthe seven butchers did not cease the rhythm of their dire refrain:\n\"'T is van te beven de klinkaert.\" But at last Ulenspiegel made a sign,\nand when silence had at last been restored he spake, saying:\n\n\"You are here, my friends, in our power. It is a dark night and the\nRiver Lys is close at hand, where a man drowns easily if he is once\npushed in. And the gates of Courtrai are shut.\" Then turning to the\nseven butchers:\n\n\"You are bound for Peteghen, to join the Beggarmen?\"\n\n\"We were ready to go there when the news came to us that you were\nhere.\"\n\n\"And from Peteghen you were going to the sea?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" they said.\n\n\"Do you think there are one or two among these constables whom it\nwould be safe to release for our service?\"\n\n\"There are two,\" they said, \"Niklaes and Joos by name, who have never\nas yet been guilty of persecuting the poor Reformers.\"\n\n\"You can trust us!\" said Niklaes and Joos.\n\n\"Very well then,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"Here are twenty caroluses for you,\ntwice as much, that is, as you would have got for an act of shameful\nbetrayal.\" And at that the other five constables cried out as one man:\n\n\"Twenty florins! We will serve the Prince for twenty florins. The\nKing's pay is bad. Only give us half as much and we will tell the\njudge any tale you please.\" But Lamme and the butchers kept muttering\nunder their breath:\n\n\"'T is van te beven de klinkaert. 'T is van te beven de klinkaert.\"\n\n\"In order that you may be kept from too much talking,\" Ulenspiegel\ncontinued, \"the seven will lead you in handcuffs to Peteghen, and there\nyou will be given over into the hands of the Beggarmen. The florins\nwill be handed to you at sea, and if you prove brave in battle you\nwill have your share of the spoil. If you attempt to desert you will\nbe hanged.\"\n\n\"We will serve him who pays us,\" they said.\n\n\"'T is van te beven de klinkaert! 'T is van te beven de klinkaert,\"\nmurmured the seven.\n\n\"You will also take with you,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"La Gilline, La\nStevenyne and the girls. If any one of them tries to escape you will\nsew her in a sack and throw her into the river.\"\n\n\"He has not killed me yet!\" cried La Gilline, jumping up from her\ncorner and brandishing her viola in the air. And she began to sing:\n\n\n Sanglant etait mon reve.\n Le reve de mon coeur.\n Je suis la fille d'Eve\n Et de Satan vainqueur.\n\n\nBut La Stevenyne and the others seemed as if they were going to cry.\n\n\"Do not be afraid, my sweets,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"You are so pretty\nand so tender that all men will love to caress you wherever you go,\nand after every victory you will have your share in the spoils.\" But\nthe three girls turned upon La Gilline:\n\n\"You that were her daughter, her breadwinner, sharing with La Stevenyne\nthe shameful rewards of her espionage, do you still dare to flaunt\nyourself before us and to insult us with your dress of brocade? Verily\nit is the blood of the victims and nothing else that has clothed you\nso richly. But now let us take her dress from her, so she may be like\nto us.\"\n\n\"That shall not be,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd the girls looked jealously at Ulenspiegel, saying:\n\n\"He is mad about her, like all the rest.\"\n\nAnd La Gilline played upon her viola and sang, and the seven butchers\ndeparted for Peteghen, taking with them the constables and the\ngirls. And they passed along by the River Lys. And as they went they\nkept muttering:\n\n\"'T is van te beven de klinkaert! 'T is van te beven de klinkaert!\" And\nat break of day they came to the camp, and sang out like the lark and\nwere answered straightway by a cockcrow. The girls and the constables\nwere put under a strong guard, but in spite of these precautions La\nGilline was found dead at noon on the third day, her heart pierced\nby a long needle. The three girls accused La Stevenyne of having\ndone this deed, and she was brought before the captain. There she\nconfessed that she had committed the crime out of jealousy and anger\nat the way the girl had treated her. And La Stevenyne was hanged and\nburied in the wood.\n\nLa Gilline also was buried, and prayers were said over her sweet body.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXIV\n\n\nWarm was the air, and not a breath of wind was wafted from the\ncalm sea. The trees on the Damme canal were motionless, and the\ngrasshoppers were busy in the meadows, while from many a church and\nabbey the men came into the fields to fetch that \"thirteenth part\nof the harvest\" which was claimed by the cures and the abbes who\nlived round about. From the depths of a blue and blazing sky the sun\npoured down his heat, and Nature slept beneath that radiance like some\nbeautiful girl that has swooned away beneath the caresses of her lover.\n\nFrom far off, Lamme and Ulenspiegel descried the high, square,\nmassive tower of Notre Dame, and Lamme said:\n\n\"There, my son, is the home both of your loves and of your\nsorrows.\" But Ulenspiegel made no answer.\n\n\"In a little while,\" continued Lamme, \"I shall be seeing my old home,\nand perhaps my wife!\" But Ulenspiegel did not answer.\n\n\"You man of wood,\" said Lamme, \"you heart of stone, will nothing move\nyou--neither the near approach to the place where you passed your\nchildhood, nor yet the dear memory of poor Claes and Soetkin, the two\nmartyrs? What! You are not sad, neither are you merry; who can it be\nthat has thus hardened your heart? Look at me, how anxious and uneasy\nI am, and how my belly heaves with nervousness; look at me I say!\"\n\nBut Lamme looked at Ulenspiegel and saw that his face was drawn\nand pale, and his lips were trembling with tears, and he said not a\nword. And now Lamme also held his peace.\n\nThey walked along in this way without speaking till they came to\nDamme, which they entered by the rue Heron; and they saw no one\nabout because of the heat. Only the dogs lay on their sides on\nthe doorsteps of many a house, gasping, with their tongues out,\nwhile Lamme and Ulenspiegel passed right in front of the Town Hall\nwhere Claes had been burnt to death; and here the lips of Ulenspiegel\ntrembled the more, and his tears dried up. And at last they were come\nto the house of Claes himself, which was now occupied by a master\ncharcoal-burner. Ulenspiegel entered in and said:\n\n\"Do you recognize me? I would wish to rest here a while.\"\n\nThe master charcoal-burner answered:\n\n\"I recognize you. You are the son of the victim. You are free in this\nhouse to go wheresoever you will.\"\n\nUlenspiegel went into the kitchen, and then upstairs into the room\nof Claes and Soetkin, and there he shed many tears.\n\nWhen he had come down again, the master charcoal-burner said to him:\n\"Here is bread, cheese, and beer. If you are hungry, eat. If you are\nthirsty, drink.\"\n\nBut Ulenspiegel made a gesture to the effect that he was neither\nhungry nor thirsty, and he left the house and came with Lamme to\nKatheline's cottage, and there they tethered their donkeys and\nstraightway entered in. It was the hour of the midday meal. On the\ntable was a dish of broad beans in their pods together with some\nwhite beans. Katheline was busy eating, while Nele was standing by\nher ready to pour into Katheline's plate some vinegar sauce which\nshe had just taken off the fire. When Ulenspiegel came into the room\nNele was so startled that she put the sauce, and the pot and all,\ninto Katheline's platter. And Katheline kept on wagging her head,\nand picking out the broad beans with her spoon from the trencher,\nstriking her forehead the while and crying ever like one mad:\n\n\"Put out the fire! My head is burning!\"\n\nAnd the smell of the vinegar made Lamme feel hungry. But Ulenspiegel\nstood still where he was, gazing at Nele and smiling for love of her\ndespite his great sorrow.\n\nAnd Nele, without a word of greeting, flung her arms round his\nneck. And she also seemed like one bereft of sense. For she cried and\nlaughed, and blushing as she was with her great and sweet happiness,\nshe could only say: \"Tyl! Tyl!\"\n\nUlenspiegel, happy now in his turn, gazed into her eyes. Then she let\ngo of him and stepped back a pace or two, gazed at him joyfully in her\nturn, and then threw herself on him again, clasping her arms round\nhis neck, and so many times and again. And he suffered her gladly,\npowerless to tear himself away from her, till at last she fell into\na chair, tired out and like one bereft of her senses, and she said\nwithout shame:\n\n\"Tyl! Tyl, my beloved! Here you are come back to me again!\"\n\nLamme meanwhile was standing at the door; but when Nele had recovered\nherself a little, she pointed to him, saying:\n\n\"Where have I seen this fat man?\"\n\n\"He is my friend,\" Ulenspiegel told her. \"He goes seeking his wife\nin my company.\"\n\n\"I know you,\" said Nele to Lamme. \"You used to live in the rue\nHeron. You are seeking for your wife? Well, I have seen her. She is\nliving at Bruges in all piety and devotion, and when I asked her why\nshe had left her husband so unkindly, she answered that it was by\nthe Holy Will of God and at the command of Holy Penance, and that\nshe could never live with her husband again.\"\n\nAt these words Lamme was sad, but his eyes wandered to the beans and\nvinegar. And outside the larks sang as they flew upwards into the sky,\nand all Nature swooned away under the caress of her Lord the Sun. And\nKatheline kept stirring with her spoon that pot of beans and sauce.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXV\n\n\nNow, in those days a damsel some fifteen years of age was going from\nHeyst to Knokke, alone in the middle of the day, by the sand-dunes. No\none had any fear for her for they knew that the wolves and wicked\nspirits of the damned go biting their victims only in the night. The\ndamsel carried a satchel wherein were forty-eight gold coins of the\nvalue of four florins carolus, being the sum owed by the girl's mother,\nToria Pieterson, who lived at Heyst, to her uncle, Jan Rapen of Knokke,\non account of a sale. The girl's name was Betkin, and she was wearing\nher best clothes, and she went on her way most happily.\n\nThe same evening, seeing that she did not return, her mother became\nanxious, but reassured herself with the thought that the girl must\nhave stayed the night with her uncle.\n\nOn the morrow, certain fishermen on their way back from the sea with\na boat-load of fish, drew their boat on to the beach and unloaded\ntheir catch, which they would sell at auction by the cart-load at the\nMinque of Heyst. They went up the road along the dunes, all strewn with\nshells, and presently came upon a young girl, stripped naked even to\nher chemise, with traces of blood all about her. Coming nearer they\nfound upon her neck the horrid marks of long sharp teeth. She was\nlying on her back with her eyes wide open gazing up into the sky,\nand her mouth was open also as if with the cry of death itself!\n\nCovering the girl's body with an opperst-kleed they brought it to\nHeyst, to the Town Hall, and there quickly assembled the aldermen\nand the leech, who declared that the long teeth that had made those\nmarks were no teeth of a wolf as known in nature, but rather of some\nwicked and devilish werwolf, and that it behoved them now to pray\nGod one and all that he would deliver the land of Flanders.\n\nAnd in all that country, and notably at Damme, at Heyst, and at Knokke,\nprayers and orisons were ordered to be made.\n\nBut Ulenspiegel went to the town bailiff and said to him: \"I will\ngo and kill the werwolf.\"\n\n\"What gives you this confidence?\" asked the bailiff.\n\n\"The ashes beat upon my heart,\" Ulenspiegel replied. \"Only give me\nleave to labour a while at the forge of the commune.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said the bailiff.\n\nUlenspiegel, without telling a word concerning his project to any\nman or woman in Damme, betook him to the forge, and there, in secret,\nhe fashioned a fine and a strong trap such as those traps which are\nmade to catch wild beasts.\n\nOn the following day, which was a Saturday, day beloved of werwolves,\nUlenspiegel armed himself with a letter from the bailiff to the cure\nof Heyst, together with the trap which he carried under his cloak, as\nwell as a good crossbow and a well-sharpened cutlass. Thus provided,\nhe departed on his way, saying to those in Damme:\n\n\"I am going out to hunt the seagulls, and of their down will I make\na soft pillow for madame the wife of the bailiff.\"\n\nNow before he reached Heyst, he came out on to the seashore. The sea\nwas rough and boisterous, and he heard the great waves growling like\nthunder, and the wind that blew from England whistling in the rigging\nof the boats that were stranded on the beach. A fisherman said to him:\n\n\"This bad wind will be our ruin. Last night the sea was calm, but\nat sunrise she suddenly swelled with anger. And to-day we shall not\nbe able to go out fishing.\" Ulenspiegel was pleased at this, for he\nknew that now he would be sure of some assistance if need arose. At\nHeyst he went straight to the cure and presented the letter that the\nbailiff had given him. The cure said:\n\n\"You are a brave man, but let me tell you that no one goes along the\ndunes on Saturday nights without being bitten by the werwolf and left\ndead on the sands. Even the men who are at work on the dikes never\ngo there except in a party. The evening is coming on. Do you not\nhear the werwolf howling in his valley? Perchance he will come again\ninto the cemetery, even as he came last night, howling most horribly\nthrough all the hours of darkness! God be with you, my son. But go\nnot there.\" And the cure crossed himself.\n\n\"The ashes beat upon my heart,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nThe cure said:\n\n\"Because you have so brave a spirit I will help you.\"\n\n\"Monsieur le Cure,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"you will be doing a great\nkindness, as well to me as to this poor desolated land of ours, if you\nwill go to Toria, the dead girl's mother, and to her two brothers also,\nand tell them that the wolf is near at hand, and that I am going out\nto wait for it and kill it.\"\n\nThe cure said:\n\n\"If you want to know where you should lie in wait, let me advise you to\nkeep along by the path which leads to the cemetery. It runs between two\nhedges of broom. It is so narrow two men could scarcely walk abreast.\"\n\n\"I understand,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"And you, brave cure, will you tell\nthe girl's mother and her husband and her brothers to come themselves\nand wait together in the church about the hour of the curfew. There,\nif they hear a cry like the cry of a seagull, it will mean that I have\nseen the werwolf. Then they must sound the wacharm on the bell, and\ncome fast to my assistance. And if there are any other brave men....\"\n\n\"There are none, my son,\" replied the cure. \"The fishermen are less\nafraid of the plague and of death itself than of the werwolf. Do not\ngo, I beseech you.\"\n\nUlenspiegel answered:\n\n\"The ashes beat upon my heart.\"\n\nAnd the cure said to him:\n\n\"I will do as you bid. God bless you. Are you hungry or thirsty?\"\n\n\"Both,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nThe cure gave him some beer, some bread, and some cheese, and\nUlenspiegel when he had eaten and drunk went his way.\n\nAnd as he walked along he raised his eyes and beheld Claes, his father,\nseated in glory at the side of God in heaven where the moon shone so\nbrightly. And thereafter he gazed upon the sea and upon the clouds,\nand he heard the wind that came blowing stormily from England.\n\n\"Alas!\" he cried, \"O Dusky Clouds that pass along so rapidly yonder\nin the sky, be you now for a vengeance on the murderer. And you,\nO Wind that whistles so sadly in the gorse along the dunes and in\nthe rigging of the ships, be you now the voice of the victims that\ncry to God that he should help me on in this enterprise.\"\n\nAnd so saying he came down into the valley, stumbling as if he had\nbeen a drunken man; and he began to sing, hiccuping all the time,\nstaggering from side to side, yawning, spitting, and then standing\nstill and pretending to be sick. But all the time he was keeping his\neyes wide open, and peering this way and that, for he had heard the\nsharp sound as of a wolf howling. Then, as he stood there vomiting\nlike a dog, he descried the long outline of a wolf moving towards\nthe cemetery in the bright light of the moon.\n\nAt that he lurched on again, and came into the path between the hedges\nof broom. There he pretended to fall down, and as he did so, he placed\nhis trap upon the side from which the wolf was coming. Then he loaded\nhis crossbow, and went forward about ten paces, standing up again in\na drunken posture. He still went on staggering to right and to left,\nnor did he cease to retch and to hiccup, but all the time his mind\nwas taut as a bowstring, and he was all eyes and ears for what might\nbe going to happen. Yet he saw nothing save the dark clouds racing in\nthe sky, and again that large and heavy form of blackness coming down\nthe path towards him. Neither did he hear aught but the dismal wailing\nof the wind, and the angry thunder of the sea, and the sound that the\nshells on the path gave forth beneath a heavy step that tapped upon\nthem. Feigning to be about to sit down, Ulenspiegel fell forwards on\nto the path, very heavily like a drunken man. After that he heard as\nit were a piece of iron clinking close to his ear, and then the sound\nof the trap shutting, and a human voice that cried out in the darkness.\n\n\"The werwolf,\" said Ulenspiegel to himself. \"He's got his front\npaws caught in the trap. Now he is howling and trying to run away,\ndragging the trap with him. But he shall not escape.\" And he drew\nhis crossbow and shot an arrow at the legs of the werwolf.\n\n\"He's wounded now,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"and he has fallen down.\"\n\nThereupon he whistled like a seagull, and straightway the church bell\nclanged out from the village and a boy's shrill voice was heard crying\nfrom afar off:\n\n\"Awake! Awake, you sleepers! The werwolf is caught.\"\n\n\"Praise be to God,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nNow the first to arrive on the scene of the capture were Toria the\nmother of Betkin, and Lansaen her husband, and her two brothers Josse\nand Michael. And they brought lanterns with them.\n\n\"You have caught him?\" they asked.\n\n\"Look on the path,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Praise be to God,\" they exclaimed, crossing themselves.\n\n\"Who is it that is calling out the news in the village?\" asked\nUlenspiegel.\n\n\"It is my eldest boy,\" Lansaen answered. \"The youngster is running\nthrough the village knocking on all the doors and crying out that\nthe wolf is caught. Praise be to thee!\"\n\n\"The ashes beat upon my heart,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nSuddenly the werwolf began to speak:\n\n\"Have mercy on me! Have mercy, Ulenspiegel!\"\n\n\"This wolf can talk!\" they exclaimed, crossing themselves again. \"He\nis a devil in very truth, and knows Ulenspiegel's name already!\"\n\n\"Have mercy! Have mercy!\" the voice cried again. \"I am no\nwolf. Order the bell to stop ringing. For thus it is that it tolls\nfor the dead. And my wrists are torn by the trap. I am old and I am\nbleeding. Have mercy! And what is this--this shrill voice of a child\nawakening all the village? Oh pray, have mercy!\"\n\n\"I have heard your voice before,\" said Ulenspiegel passionately. \"You\nare the fishmonger. The murderer of Claes, the vampire that preys\nupon poor maids! Have no fear, good mother and father. This is none\nother than the Dean of the Fishmongers on whose account poor Soetkin\ndied of grief.\" And with one hand he held the man fast by the neck,\nand with the other he drew out his cutlass.\n\nBut Toria the mother of Betkin prevented him.\n\n\"Take him alive,\" cried she. \"Take him alive. Let him pay!\"\n\nMeanwhile there were many fisherfolk, men and women of Heyst, who were\ncome out at the news that the werwolf was taken and that he was no\ndevil but a man. Some of these carried lanterns and flaming torches,\nand all of them cried aloud when they saw him:\n\n\"Thief! Murderer! Where hide you the gold that you have stolen from\nyour poor victims?\"\n\n\"He shall repay it all,\" said Toria. And she would have beaten him\nin her rage had she not fallen down there and then upon the sand in\na mad fury like unto one dead. And they left her there until she came\nto herself.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel, sad at heart, beheld the clouds racing like mad\nthings in the sky, and out at sea the white crests of the waves,\nand on the ground at his feet the white face of the fishmonger that\nlooked up at him in the light of the lantern with cruel eyes. And\nthe ashes beat upon his heart.\n\nAnd they walked for four hours, and came to Damme where was a great\ncrowd assembled that already was aware of what had happened. Every one\ndesired to see the fishmonger, and they pressed round the fishermen\nand fisherwives, crying out and singing and dancing and saying:\n\"The werwolf is caught! He is caught, the murderer! Blessed be\nUlenspiegel! Long live our brother Ulenspiegel!--Lange leve onzen\nbroeder Ulenspiegel.\" And it was like a popular rising. And when the\ncrowd passed in front of the bailiff's house, he came out, hearing\nthe noise, and said to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"You are the conqueror; all praise to you!\"\n\n\"It was the ashes of Claes that beat upon my heart,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nThen the bailiff said:\n\n\"Half the murderer's fortune shall be yours.\"\n\n\"Let it be given to his victims,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nNow Lamme and Nele were there too--Nele laughing and crying with joy\nand kissing her lover; Lamme jumping heavily and striking his belly\nwhile he cried out at the same time:\n\n\"Brave, trusty, and true! My comrade, my well-beloved! You cannot\nmatch him anywhere, you other men of the flat country.\"\n\nBut the fisherfolk laughed and made mock of Lamme.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXVI\n\n\nThe great bell, the Borgstorm, rang out on the morrow to summon to\nthe Vierschare the aldermen and the clerks of the court. There they\nsat on four banks of turf under the noble lime-tree which was called\nthe Tree of Justice. And round about stood the common people. When\nhe was examined the fishmonger would confess nothing. All he did was\nto repeat continually:\n\n\"I am poor and old, have mercy upon me.\"\n\nBut the people howled at him, saying:\n\n\"You are an old wolf, destroyer of children; have no pity, sir judges.\"\n\n\"Let him pay! Let him pay!\" cried Toria.\n\nBut the fishmonger entreated again most piteously:\n\n\"I am poor. Leave me alone.\"\n\nThen, since he would not say anything of his own free will, he was\ncondemned to be tortured until he should confess how he had committed\nthe murders, whence he came, and where he had hidden the remains of\nthe victims and their money.\n\nSo now he was brought to the torture chamber, and on his feet were\nput the iron shoes of torture, and the bailiff asked him how it\nwas that Satan had inspired him with designs so black and crimes so\nabominable. Then at last he made answer:\n\n\"Satan is myself, my essential nature. Even as a child, ugly as I was\nand unskilled in all bodily exercises, I was regarded as a simpleton\nby every one and was continually being beaten. Neither girl nor boy\nhad any pity for me, and as I grew up no woman would have anything\nto do with me, not even for payment. So I conceived a hatred for\nthe whole human race, and for this reason I betrayed the man Claes\nwho was beloved by all. Thereafter I was attracted more than ever by\nthe idea of living like a wolf, and I dreamed of tearing flesh with\nmy teeth. And I killed two wolves in the woods of Raveschoet and\nMaldeghem, and I sewed together their two skins as a covering. And\nby day and by night I wandered along the sand-dunes, and especially\non Saturdays--the day of the market at Bruges.\"\n\nThen the bailiff said:\n\n\"Repent and pray to God.\"\n\nBut the fishmonger blasphemed, saying:\n\n\"It is God himself who willed me to be as I am. I did all in spite\nof myself, led on by the will of nature. Evil tigers that you are,\nyou will punish me unjustly.\"\n\nBut he was condemned to die the death, and Toria cried aloud:\n\"Justice is done. He shall pay the penalty.\"\n\nAnd all the people cried:\n\n\"Lang leve de Heeren van de wet!--Long live the Officers of the Law!\"\n\nThe next morning at early dawn, as they were bringing him to the\nplace of punishment, he saw Ulenspiegel standing near the pile and\nhe pointed his finger at him, crying:\n\n\"There is a man who ought to die no less than I. For ten years ago\nit was that he threw me into the Damme canal because I had denounced\nhis father. But in that I had acted as a loyal subject to His Most\nCatholic Majesty.\"\n\nAnd the bells of Notre Dame tolled for the dead.\n\n\"For you also the bells are tolling,\" said he to Ulenspiegel. \"You\nwill be hanged. For you have committed murder.\"\n\n\"Is this true?\" demanded the bailiff.\n\nUlenspiegel answered:\n\n\"I threw into the water the man who denounced Claes and was the cause\nof his death. The ashes of my father beat upon my heart.\"\n\nAnd the women that were in the crowd said to him:\n\n\"Why confess it, Ulenspiegel? No one saw the deed. But now you also\nwill die the death.\"\n\nAnd the prisoner laughed aloud, leaping in the air with a bitter joy.\n\n\"He will die,\" he said. \"He will leave this earth for hell. He will\ndie. God is just.\"\n\n\"He shall not die,\" said the bailiff, \"for after the lapse of ten\nyears no murderer can lawfully be brought to punishment in the land\nof Flanders. Ulenspiegel did a wicked act, but it was done for love\nof his father: and for such a deed as that Ulenspiegel shall not be\nsummoned to trial.\"\n\n\"Long live the law!\" cried the crowd. \"Lang leve de wet!\"\n\nAnd the bells of Notre Dame tolled for the dead. And the prisoner\nground his teeth and hung his head, and now for the first time he let\nfall a tear. And his hand was cut off and his tongue pierced with a\nred-hot iron, and he was burned alive in a slow fire in front of the\nTown Hall.\n\nAnd Toria cried out:\n\n\"He is paying the penalty! He is paying the penalty! See how\nthey writhe--those arms and those legs which helped him to his\nmurdering! See how it smokes, the body of this brute! Burning is the\nhair of him, all pallid like the hair of a hyena, and burning is his\npallid face. He pays! He pays!\"\n\nAnd the fishmonger died, howling like a wolf.\n\nAnd the bells of Notre Dame tolled for the dead.\n\nAnd once more did Lamme and Ulenspiegel ride away on their donkeys. And\nNele stayed behind in sorrow with Katheline, who never stopped her\nceaseless refrain:\n\n\"Put out the fire! My head is burning! Come back, come back to me,\nHanske, my pet.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXVII\n\n\nUlenspiegel and Lamme had come to Heyst-on-the-Dunes, and behold a\nfleet of fishing-boats that were come hither from Ostend and from\nBlankenberghe and Knokke. Filled they were with men-at-arms, the\nfollowers of the Beggarmen of Zeeland, who carried on their hats a\nsilver crescent with this inscription: \"Serve rather the Turk than\nthe Pope.\"\n\nUlenspiegel is glad; he whistles like the lark and from every\nside there comes to answer him the warlike cockcrow. And Lamme and\nUlenspiegel go aboard one of the ships and are carried to Emden and\nthence to Wieringen, where their ship is hemmed in by the ice. For\nby now it is the month of February.\n\nNow all around the ship there was to be seen the most joyous sight\nimaginable: men all clad in velvet, sledging and skating on the ice;\nand women skating too, with skirts and jackets broidered with pearl\nand gold, blue and scarlet. And the boys and girls came and went\nhither and thither, laughing and following one another in line,\nor two by two in couples, singing the song of love upon the ice,\nand running to eat and drink at the stalls decorated with flags,\nwhere one could buy all kinds of brandy-wine and oranges and figs and\neggs and hot vegetables with heete-koeken--pancakes, that is, with\nvegetables flavoured with vinegar. And all around them the sailing\nsledges made the ice to resound under the press of their sharp runners.\n\nLamme, who was still searching everywhere for his wife, wandered\nabout on his skates like the rest of that happy crowd, but he kept\nfalling down time and again.\n\nUlenspiegel, meanwhile, to satisfy his hunger and thirst, was wont to\nresort to a little tavern on the quay where the prices were not high,\nand where he used to have many a talk with the old lady who kept it.\n\nOne Sunday about nine o'clock he went to the inn and asked them to\ngive him some dinner. A charming-looking young woman came forward to\nserve him.\n\n\"Dear me,\" he cried, \"you rejuvenated hostess! Where-ever are those\nold wrinkles of yours gone to? And your mouth has found all its teeth\nagain, and they are white with the whiteness of youth itself! And\nyour lips are red like cherries! Is it for me this smile of yours so\nsweet and roguish?\"\n\n\"Nay, nay,\" she said. \"But what can I get you?\"\n\n\"Yourself,\" he said.\n\nThe woman answered:\n\n\"That would be too big a meal for a lean little man like you. Will\nnot some other kind of meat do for you?\"\n\nWhen Ulenspiegel made no answer:\n\n\"What have you done,\" she said, \"with that handsome, well-set-up,\nbut rather corpulent gentleman I have so often seen in your company?\"\n\n\"Do you mean Lamme?\" queried Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Yes. What have you done with him?\" she repeated.\n\n\"He is busy eating,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"eating anything he can set\nhis teeth upon--hard-boiled eggs from the street stalls, smoked eels\nand salted fish: and all this, forsooth, to help him find his wife. But\nwhy are you not she, my sweet? Would you like fifty florins? Would\nyou like a collar of gold?\"\n\nBut she crossed herself, saying:\n\n\"I am not to be bought, nor yet taken.\"\n\n\"Do you love no one?\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"I love you as my neighbour; but above all I love Our Lord and\nOur Lady, they that command me to live an honest life. Hard indeed\nand oftentimes burdensome are the duties that are laid on us poor\nwomen. Nevertheless God gives us his aid. Yet some there are who\nsuccumb to temptation. But this fat friend of yours, come, tell me,\nis he well and happy?\"\n\nUlenspiegel answered:\n\n\"He is gay when he is eating, but sad and pensive when he is empty. I\nwill get him to come and see you.\"\n\n\"Do not do that,\" she said; \"he would weep and so should I.\"\n\n\"Have you ever seen his wife?\" asked Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"She sinned with him once,\" the woman answered, \"and was condemned\ntherefor to a cruel punishment. She knows that he goes a-seafaring in\nthe cause of the heretics, and this is a cruel thought for a Christian\nheart. But protect him, I pray you, if he is attacked, and nurse him\nif he is wounded: his wife ordered me thus to entreat you.\"\n\n\"Lamme is my brother and my friend,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Ah!\" she said. \"But why will you not return to the bosom of our Holy\nMother Church?\"\n\n\"She eats up her children,\" answered Ulenspiegel. And he departed.\n\nBut one morning in March, while still the cold winds of winter kept\nthe ice frozen, so that the ship of the Beggarmen could not make away,\nUlenspiegel came again to the tavern. And the pretty baesine said to\nhim (and there was great emotion and sorrow in her voice):\n\n\"Poor Lamme! Poor Ulenspiegel!\"\n\n\"Why do you pity us so?\" he asked her.\n\n\"Alas! alas!\" she cried. \"Why will you not believe in the Mass? And\nyou did, you would go straight to Paradise without a doubt, and I\nmight be able to save you in this life also.\"\n\nSeeing her go to the door and listen there attentively, Ulenspiegel\nsaid to her:\n\n\"Is it the snow that you hear falling?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said.\n\n\"What then?\"\n\n\"It is death that comes like a thief in the night.\"\n\n\"Death,\" exclaimed Ulenspiegel. \"I do not understand you. Come back\nand tell me.\"\n\n\"They are there,\" she said.\n\n\"Who are?\"\n\n\"Who?\" she said. \"Why, the soldiers of Simonen Bol, who are about to\ncome in the name of the Duke and throw themselves upon you all. And\nif they treat you well while you are here, it is only as men treat\nthe oxen they mean to kill. Oh why,\" she cried all in tears, \"why\ndid I not know all this before, so that I could have warned you!\"\n\n\"You must not cry,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"and you must stay where\nyou are!\"\n\n\"Do not betray me,\" she said.\n\nUlenspiegel went out of the house, ran as fast as he could, and went\nround to all the booths and taverns in the place, whispering to the\nsailors and soldiers these words: \"The Spaniards are coming.\"\n\nAt that they ran every one to the ship, and prepared with all the\nhaste they knew whatever things were necessary for battle. Then they\nwaited for the evening. While they were waiting thus, Ulenspiegel\nsaid to Lamme:\n\n\"Do you see that pretty-looking woman on the quay there, in a black\ndress embroidered with scarlet?\"\n\n\"It's all one to me,\" answered Lamme. \"I am cold and I want to go\nto sleep.\"\n\nAnd he threw his great cloak around his head, and became like a man\nwho was deaf.\n\nBut presently Ulenspiegel recognized the woman and cried out to her\nfrom the vessel:\n\n\"Would you like to come with us?\"\n\n\"Even to the death,\" she answered, \"but I cannot....\"\n\nThen she came nearer to the ship.\n\n\"Take this ointment,\" she said. \"It is for you and that fat friend\nof yours who goes to sleep when he ought to be awake.\"\n\nAnd she withdrew herself, crying:\n\n\"Lamme! Lamme! May God keep you from harm and bring you back safe.\"\n\nAnd she uncovered her face.\n\n\"My wife! My wife!\" cried Lamme.\n\nAnd he would have jumped down to her.\n\n\"Your faithful wife!\" she said, running the while as fast as ever\nshe could.\n\nLamme would have leaped down from the deck on to the ice, but he was\nrestrained by a soldier who caught him by his cloak, and the provost\naddressed him, saying:\n\n\"You will be hanged if you leave the ship.\"\n\nYet again did Lamme try to throw himself down, but an old Beggarman\nheld him back, telling him that the ice was damp and that he would get\nhis feet wet. And Lamme sat down on the deck weeping and crying ever:\n\n\"My wife! My wife! Let me go and find my wife!\"\n\n\"You will see her again,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"She loves you, but she\nloves God more.\"\n\n\"Mad devil-woman that she is!\" cried Lamme. \"If she loves God more\nthan her husband, why does she show herself to me so sweet and so\ndesirable? And if she loves me, why does she leave me?\"\n\n\"Can you see clearly to the bottom of a deep well?\" demanded\nUlenspiegel.\n\nIn the meanwhile the followers of Simonen Bol had appeared on the\nscene with a large force of artillery. They shot at the ship, which\npromptly repaid them in similar coin. And the bullets broke up the\nice all around. And towards evening a warm rain began to fall, and the\nwest wind blew from the Atlantic, and the sea grew angry beneath its\ncovering of ice, and the ice was broken into huge blocks which could\nbe seen rising and falling to hurl themselves one against the other,\nnot without danger to the ship, which, nevertheless, as dawn began\nto dissipate the clouds of night, opened its sails like a bird of\nfreedom and sailed out towards the open sea.\n\nThere they were joined by the fleet of Messire de Lumey de la Marche,\nAdmiral of Holland and Zeeland; and on that day the ship of Messire\nTres-Long captured a vessel from Biscay that carried a cargo of\nmercury, gunpowder, wine, and spices. And the vessel was cleaned to\nits marrow, emptied of its men and its booty, even as the bone of\nan ox is cleaned by the teeth of a lion. And the Beggarmen took La\nBriele, a strong naval base, well called the Garden of Liberty.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXVIII\n\n\nIt was at the beginning of May. The sky was clear, the ship sailed\nproudly on the billows, and Ulenspiegel sang this song:\n\n\n The ashes beat on my heart,\n The murderers are come;\n With daggers have they struck at us,\n Fiercely, with fire and sword have they struck at us,\n They have bribed us most vilely and spied on us,\n Where are love and fidelity now?\n In exchange for those sweetest of virtues,\n Betrayal and fraud have they heaped on us.\n Yet may they that have murdered be murdered themselves!\n Beat, beat, drum of war!\n\n Long live the Beggarmen! Loud beat the drum!\n La Briele has fallen,\n Flushing too, the key to the Scheldt!\n God is good, for Camp-veere is taken,\n Taken the place where the guns of all Zeeland were stored!\n Now cannon-balls, powder, and bullets are ours,\n Bullets of iron, bullets of brass.\n God is with us--against us, then, who?\n\n The drum! Beat the drum of glory and war!\n Long live the Beggarmen! Beat the drum!\n\n\nAnd again Ulenspiegel lifted up his voice and sang:\n\n\n O Duke! Hark to the voice of the People,\n Murmuring so strong in the distance,\n Like the sea that swells in the season of tempest!\n Enough of silver and gold and of blood,\n Of ruins enough! Beat the drum! Beat the drum!\n The sword is drawn.\n\n Duke! Duke of Alba, Duke of Blood,\n Behold the stalls and the shops, they are closed.\n Brewers and bakers, grocers and butchers,\n Refuse one and all to do business for nothing.\n When you pass who'll salute you?\n None. Do you feel, then, the pestilent mist\n Of hate and scorn closing around you?\n\n For the fair land of Flanders,\n The gay land of Brabant,\n Now are sad as a churchyard.\n And where once in the days of our liberty\n Sounded the violas, screamed the fifes and the bagpipes,\n Now there is silence and death.\n Beat the drum, the drum of war.\n\n And now, 'stead of all the glad faces\n Of those that drank and made love to the sound of sweet singing,\n Now is naught but pale faces\n Of they that await in dumb resignation\n The blade of the sword of injustice.\n Beat the drum, the drum of war.\n\n O land of our fathers, suffering, beloved,\n Bow not your head 'neath the foot of the murderer!\n And you, busy bees, fling yourselves now\n In swarms 'gainst the hornets of Spain.\n And you bodies of women and girls\n That are buried alive\n Cry to Christ: Vengeance!\n\n Wander by night in the fields, poor souls,\n Cry to God!\n Every arm now trembles to strike.\n The sword is drawn.\n Duke, we will tear out your entrails,\n Yea, we will whip you in the face!\n Beat the drum. The sword is drawn.\n Beat the drum. Long live the Beggarmen!\n\n\nAnd all the sailors and soldiers on the ship of Ulenspiegel, and\nthey also that were on the ships near by, took up the refrain and\nsang out also:\n\n\n The sword is drawn. Long live the Beggarmen!\n\n\nAnd the sound of their voices was like the growl of the thunder\nof deliverance.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXIX\n\n\nIt was the month of January, the cruel month that freezes the calf in\nthe womb of the cow. Snow had fallen over all the land, and then frozen\nhard. The boys went out to snare with bird-lime the sparrows that\ncame to seek what nourishment they could find on the hardened snow;\nand whatever they took they brought back to their cottages. Against\nthe grey, bright sky the skeletons of the trees detached themselves\nin motionless outline, and their branches were covered as it were\nwith cushions of snow, and the roofs of the cottages likewise, and\nthe tops of the walls where showed the footprints of the cats who\nthemselves went out hunting for sparrows in the snow. Far and wide\nthe fields were hidden under that wonderful white fleece which warms\nthe earth against the bitter cold of winter. The smoke of houses and\ncottages showed black as it mounted heavenwards, and over everything\nthere brooded a great stillness.\n\nAnd Katheline and Nele lived alone in their cottage, and Katheline\nwagged her head, crying continually:\n\n\"Hans, my heart is yours. But you must give back those seven hundred\ncaroluses. Put out the fire! My head is burning! Alas! Where are your\nkisses cold as snow?\" And she stood watching at the window.\n\nSuddenly a horseman rode past at the gallop, crying:\n\n\"Here comes the bailiff, the high bailiff of Damme!\"\n\nAnd he went on to the Town Hall, crying out all the time, so as to\ngather together the burghers and the aldermen. And thereafter in\nthe silence that ensued Nele could hear two blasts of a trumpet,\nand straightway all the people of Damme came running to their doors\nthinking that it must be no less a personage than His Royal Majesty\nhimself whose arrival was announced by such a fanfare. And Katheline\nalso went to her door with Nele, and in the distance she could see a\ntroop of splendid horsemen riding all together, and at their head a\nmagnificent figure in a cloak of black velvet edged with sable. And\nshe knew him at once for the high bailiff of Damme.\n\nNow behind him there rode a company of youthful Lords clad in long\ncloaks, and they rode along gaily, and their coats were adorned with\nbuttons and trimmings of gold, and their hats with long ostrich plumes\nwaving gaily in the wind. And they seemed one and all to be good\ncomrades and friends of the high bailiff; and conspicuous among them\nwas a thin-faced gentleman dressed in green velvet and gold trimmings,\nand like the others his cloak was of black velvet and his hat also\nwas adorned with black plumes. And his nose was like a vulture's beak,\nhis mouth compressed and thin, and his beard was red and his face pale,\nand very proud was his bearing.\n\nWhile the company of gentlemen was passing before the cottage,\nKatheline suddenly ran forward and leapt at the bridle of the pale\nhorseman, and cried out, mad with joy as it seemed:\n\n\"Hans! My beloved, I knew you would come back! Oh, you are beautiful\nlike this, all clad in velvet and gold, shining like a sun against\nthe snow! Have you brought me those seven hundred caroluses? Shall\nI hear you again crying like the sea-eagle?\"\n\nThe high bailiff brought the cavalcade to a stand, and the pale\ngentleman said:\n\n\"What does this beggar-woman want with me?\"\n\nBut Katheline, still holding the horse by the bridle, made answer:\n\"You must be dreaming, Hans. Wake up from your dream! I have cried\nfor you so long. O nights of love, my beloved! O kisses of snow,\nO body of ice! See, this is your child!\"\n\nAnd she pointed to Nele, who was gazing at the man with terror,\nfor now he had raised his whip as though he were about to strike at\nKatheline. But Katheline still continued her entreaties, weeping all\nthe time:\n\n\"Ah! Do you not remember? Have pity on your servant! Take her with\nyou whithersoever you will! Put out the fire! Hans, have pity!\"\n\n\"Get out of the way!\" he said. And he urged on his steed so quickly\nthat Katheline was forced to loose hold of the bridle, and she fell\non to the road, and the horse went over her, leaving a bleeding wound\nupon her forehead. Then the bailiff inquired of the pale horseman as\nto whether he knew aught of the woman.\n\n\"I know her not,\" was the answer. \"She is out of her wits, doubtless.\"\n\nBut by this time Nele had helped up Katheline from the ground. \"If\nthis woman is mad,\" she said, \"at least, my Lord, I am not. And I am\nready to die here and now of this snow that I am eating\"--and here\nNele took and ate of the snow with her fingers--\"if this horseman has\nnot had knowledge of my mother, and if he has not forced her to lend\nhim money, nay, all the money that she had, and if it was not he that\nkilled the dog which belonged to Claes, so that he might take from\nthe wall of the well those seven hundred caroluses which belonged to\nthe poor man that is dead.\"\n\n\"Hans, my pet,\" sobbed Katheline, \"give me the kiss of peace. Time\nwas when you killed your friend because you were jealous, by the\ndike.... You loved me well in those days.\"\n\n\"Who is that man she speaks of?\" demanded the bailiff.\n\n\"I know not,\" said the pale horseman. \"The talk of this beggar-woman\nis no concern of ours. Let us move on.\"\n\nBut by now a crowd of people had collected, workpeople of the town,\nand they all began to take Katheline's part, crying: \"Justice! Justice,\nmy Lord Bailiff! Justice!\"\n\nAnd the bailiff said to Nele: \"Who is the one that was killed? Speak\nthe truth in God's name.\"\n\nThen Nele said her say, pointing the while at the pale horseman:\n\n\"This is the man who came every Saturday to the keet to visit my\nmother, and to take her money from her. He killed one of his own\nfriends, Hilbert by name, in the field of Servaes Van der Vichte;\nand this he did not from any love of Katheline, as she in her innocent\nfolly believes, but rather that he might get hold of her seven hundred\ncaroluses and keep them all for himself.\"\n\n\"You lie,\" said the pale horseman.\n\n\"Oh no!\" said Nele. \"For it is you that caused the death of Soetkin;\nyou that reduced her orphan son to misery; you--nobleman that you\nare--who came to us, common people, and the first time you came you\nbrought money to my mother, so that ever afterwards you might take\nher money from her! And you it is that introduced into our house that\nfriend of yours to whom you would have given me in marriage; but,\nas you know, I would have none of him. What did he do, your friend\nHilbert, that time I tore his eyes with my finger-nails?\"\n\n\"Nele is naughty,\" said Katheline. \"You must not pay any attention\nto her, Hans, my pet. She is angry because Hilbert tried to take her\nby force; but Hilbert cannot do so any more. The worms have eaten\nhim. And Hilbert was ugly, Hans, my pet. It is you alone that are\nbeautiful, and Nele, she is naughty.\"\n\nNow the bailiff ordered the women to go about their business, but\nKatheline would not budge from where she stood. They were obliged,\ntherefore, to take her into the cottage by force. And all the people\nthat were there assembled began to cry out:\n\n\"Justice, my Lord! Justice!\"\n\nAt this moment the sergeants of the commune came upon the scene,\nattracted by the noise, and the bailiff, bidding them wait, addressed\nhimself to the Lords and nobles in the following manner:\n\n\"My Lords and Gentlemen,--Notwithstanding all those privileges which\nprotect the illustrious order of the nobility of Flanders, I find\nmyself constrained to arrest Joos Damman on account of the accusations\nwhich have been brought against him. And I therefore order him to\nbe confined to prison until such time as he can be brought to trial\naccording to the laws and ordinances of the Empire. Hand me, then,\nyour sword, Sir Joos!\"\n\nAt this command Joos Damman was seen to hesitate, but all the people\ncried out as with one voice:\n\n\"Justice, my Lord! Justice! Let him deliver up his sword!\"\n\nAnd he was obliged to do so in spite of himself; and when he had\ndismounted from his horse he was conducted by the sergeants to the\nprison of the commune.\n\nNevertheless he was not confined in one of the dungeons, but was placed\nin a room with barred windows, where, for a payment of money, he was\nmade not too uncomfortable. For he was provided with a fire, a good\nbed, and some good food, half of which, however, went to the gaoler.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXX\n\n\nOn the morrow there came a soft wind blowing from Brabant. The snow\nbegan to melt and the meadows were all flooded.\n\nAnd the bell that is called Borgstorm summoned the judges to the\ntribunal of the Vierschare. And they sat under the penthouse, because\nthe grassy banks where they were accustomed to sit were too damp. And\nround about the tribunal stood the people of the town.\n\nJoos Damman was brought before the judges. He was not in bonds, and he\nstill wore the dress of a nobleman. Katheline was also brought there,\nbut her hands were tied in front of her, and she wore a grey dress,\nthe dress of a prisoner.\n\nOn being examined, Joos Damman pleaded guilty to the charge of having\nkilled his friend Hilbert with a sword in single combat; and this he\nconfessed willingly because, as he said, he was protected by the law\nof Flanders, which made a murderer safe from conviction after the\nspace of ten years.\n\nThen the bailiff asked him if he was a sorcerer.\n\n\"No,\" replied Damman.\n\n\"Prove it,\" said the bailiff.\n\n\"That I will do at the right time and in the proper place,\" said Joos\nDamman, \"but not now.\"\n\nThen the bailiff began to question Katheline. She, however, paid no\nattention to his questions, but kept her eyes fixed on Hans, saying:\n\n\"You are my green master. Beautiful you are as the Sun himself. Put\nout the fire, my pet!\"\n\nThen Nele spoke on Katheline's behalf.\n\n\"She can tell you naught, my Lord, that you do not know already. She\nis not a sorceress. She is only out of her mind.\"\n\nThen the bailiff said his say:\n\n\"A sorcerer, I would remind you, is one who knowingly employs a\ndevilish art, or devilish arts, for the attainment of a certain\nobject. Well, these two persons, the man and the woman, I find to\nbe sorcerers both in intention and in fact; the man because, as\nthe evidence states, he gave to this woman the balm of the Witches'\nSabbath, and made his visage like unto Lucifer so as to obtain money\nfrom her and the satisfaction of his wanton desires. And the woman also\nI find to be a sorceress because she submitted herself to the man,\ntaking him for a devil and abandoning herself to his will. I ask,\ntherefore, if the gentlemen of the tribunal are agreed that it is a\ncase where the prisoners should both be sent to the torture?\"\n\nThe aldermen did not answer, but showed clearly enough that such was\nnot their desire, so far at any rate as Katheline was concerned.\n\nThen the bailiff spake again:\n\n\"Like you I am moved with pity and compassion for the woman, but mad\nas she undoubtedly is and obedient in all things to the devil, is it\nnot probable that at the behest of her leman she might have committed\nthe most horrible crimes and abominations, as do all those who resign\nthemselves to the devil's will? No. Since Joos Damman has refused\nto acknowledge any crime save that of murder, and since Katheline\nhas not told us anything at all, it is clear that by the laws of the\nEmpire we are bound to proceed in the manner I have indicated.\"\n\nAnd the aldermen gave sentence to the effect that the two prisoners\nwere to be committed to torture on the following Friday, which was\nthe day but one following.\n\nAnd Nele cried out for mercy upon Katheline, and the people joined\nwith her in supplication, but all in vain. And the prisoners were\ntaken back into the gaol.\n\nThere, by order of the tribunal, the keeper of the gaol was ordered\nto provide a couple of guards for each prisoner, and these guards\nwere commanded to beat them whenever they looked like going off to\nsleep. Now the two guards that were allotted to Katheline suffered her\nto sleep during the night; but they that were assigned to Joos Damman\nbeat him unmercifully every time that he closed his eyes or even hung\nhis head down. And neither of the prisoners was given anything to\neat through all that Wednesday, and through all the night and day\nwhich followed. But on the Thursday evening they were given food\nand drink--meat, that is to say, which had been soaked in salt and\nsaltpetre, and water which had been salted in a similar fashion. And\nthis was the beginning of their torture. And in the morning, crying out\nwith thirst, they were led by the sergeants into the chamber of doom.\n\nThere they were set opposite to one another, bound as they were,\neach to a separate bench which itself was covered with knotted cords\nthat hurt them grievously. And they were both made to drink a glass\nof water saturated with salt and saltpetre.\n\nJoos Damman began to fall off to sleep where he was, but the sergeants\nsoon beat him awake again. And Katheline said:\n\n\"Do not beat him, kind sirs. He has committed but a single crime,\nwhen he killed Hilbert--and that was done for love's sake. Oh, but I\nam thirsty! And you also are thirsty, Hans, my beloved! Pray give him\nsomething to drink first of all. Water! Water! My body is burning me\nup. But spare him. I will die for him. Water!\"\n\nJoos said to her:\n\n\"Ugly old witch that you are, go and die for all I care! Throw her\ninto the fire, my Lords! Oh, but I am thirsty!\"\n\nMeanwhile the clerks of the court were busy writing down every word\nthat was being said. And the bailiff asked him:\n\n\"Have you nothing to confess?\"\n\n\"I have nothing more to say,\" replied Damman. \"You know all that\nthere is to know.\"\n\n\"Forasmuch as he persists in his denials,\" said the bailiff, \"let him\nremain where he is until he shall have made a complete avowal of his\ncrimes. Let him neither eat nor drink nor go to sleep.\"\n\n\"So be it,\" said Joos Damman. \"And I will amuse myself by watching\nthe sufferings of this old witch here.\"\n\nAnd Katheline answered him, saying:\n\n\"Cold arms, warm heart, Hans, my beloved! I am thirsty, my head\nis burning!\"\n\nThe clerk of the court wrote down what she said, and the bailiff\nasked her:\n\n\"Woman, have you nothing to say in your own defence?\"\n\nBut Katheline only gazed at Joos Damman, and said very amorously:\n\n\"It is the hour of the sea-eagle, Hans, my pet. They say that you will\ngive me back the seven hundred caroluses. Put out the fire! Put out\nthe fire!\" Then she began to cry out most horribly: \"Water! Water! My\nhead is burning! God and His angels are eating apples in heaven!\"\n\nAnd she lost consciousness.\n\nThereupon the bailiff ordered her to be released from the bench of\ntorture; which was done, and thereafter she was seen to stagger to\nand fro because of her feet, which were all swollen from the cords\nthat had been bound too tight.\n\n\"Give her to drink,\" said the bailiff.\n\nAnd they gave her some fresh water which she swallowed greedily,\nholding the goblet between her teeth as a dog holds a bone and refusing\nto let it go. Then they gave her more water, and this she would have\ncarried over to Joos Damman had not the torturer wrested the goblet\nfrom her hand. And she fell down asleep, like a piece of lead.\n\nBut Joos Damman cried out in his fury:\n\n\"I also am thirsty and sleepy. Why do you give her to drink? Why do\nyou let her fall asleep?\"\n\n\"She is a woman,\" answered the bailiff. \"And she is weak and out of\nher mind.\"\n\n\"Her madness is only pretence,\" said Joos Damman. \"She is a witch. I\nwant to drink, and I want to sleep.\"\n\nAnd he closed his eyes, but his tormentors struck him in the face.\n\n\"Give me a knife,\" he cried, \"that I may cut these varlets in\npieces. I am a nobleman; no one has ever struck me in the face\nbefore! Water! Let me sleep. I am innocent. It is not I that took\nthe seven hundred caroluses, it was Hilbert. Water! I have never\ncommitted any sorceries nor any incantations. I am innocent. Leave\nme alone and give me something to drink.\"\n\nBut the bailiff only asked him how he had passed the time after he\nleft Katheline.\n\n\"I do not know Katheline at all,\" he said, \"therefore I never left\nher. You have asked me an unfair question, and I am not bound to\nanswer it. Give me something to drink. Let me go to sleep. I tell\nyou it was Hilbert who was responsible for everything.\"\n\n\"Take him away,\" said the bailiff, \"put him back into his prison. But\nsee that he has nothing to drink, and that he does not fall asleep\nuntil he has admitted his sorceries and incantations.\"\n\nAnd now Damman suffered the most cruel torture of all, and he cried\nout continually in his prison: \"Water! Water!\" And so loudly did he\ncry that the people outside could hear him, nevertheless they felt\nno pity for him. And when he began to fall off to sleep the guards\nstruck him in the face, and he cried out again, like a tiger:\n\n\"I am a nobleman, and I will kill you, you varlets! I will go to the\nKing our master. Water!\"\n\nBut he would confess nothing at all, and they left him where he was.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXI\n\n\nIt was the month of May. The Tree of Justice was green again. Green\nalso were those grassy banks where the judges were wont to seat\nthemselves. Nele was summoned to give evidence, for it was the day\non which the judgment was to be promulgated. And the people--men and\nwomen--of Damme, stood around the open space of the court, and the\nsun shone brightly.\n\nKatheline and Joos Damman were now brought before the tribunal, and\nDamman appeared more pale than ever because of the torture he had\nsuffered, the many nights he had passed without sleep or anything to\ndrink. As for Katheline, she could scarcely support herself on her\ntottering legs, and she pointed to the sun continually, and cried out:\n\"Put out the fire! My head is burning!\" And she gazed at Joos Damman\nwith tender love. And he looked back at her with hate and despite. And\nhis friends, the Lords and gentlemen who had been summoned to Damme,\nwere all present there before the tribunal as witnesses.\n\nThen the bailiff spoke as follows:\n\n\"The girl Nele here, who is protecting her mother Katheline with\nsuch great and brave affection, has found sewn into the pocket of\nKatheline's Sunday dress a letter signed by Joos Damman. And I myself,\nwhen I was inspecting the dead body of Hilbert Ryvish, which was dug up\nin the field near Katheline's cottage, found thereon a second letter,\naddressed to him and signed by the said Joos Damman, the accused now\npresent before you. Is it your pleasure that these letters be now\nread to you?\"\n\n\"Read them, read them!\" cried the crowd. \"Nele is a brave girl! Read\nthe letters! Katheline is no witch!\"\n\nAnd the clerk of the court read out as follows:\n\n\n \"To Hilbert, son of William Ryvish, knight, Joos Damman,\n knight, Greeting.\n\n \"Most excellent friend, let me advise you to lose no more of\n your money in gambling, dicing, and other foolishness of that\n kind. I will tell you a way of making money safe and sound. My\n plan is that we should disguise ourselves as devils, such as are\n beloved by women and girls, and then choose out for ourselves\n all the pretty ones, leaving alone all such as are ugly or poor;\n for we will make them pay for their pleasure. Do you know that\n when I was in Germany I acquired by this means as much as five\n thousand rixdaelders, and all within the space of six months? For\n a woman will give her last denier to the man she loves. When,\n therefore, such an one is willing to receive you in the night,\n the thing is to announce your coming by crying like a night-bird,\n so it may seem that you are really and truly a devil; and if you\n want to make your countenance appear devilish you must rub it\n all over with phosphorus, for phosphorus burns when it is damp,\n and the smell of it is horrible; and the women mistake it for the\n odour of hell itself. And if anything gets in your way, be it man,\n woman, or beast, kill it.\n\n \"Before long we will go together to one Katheline, a handsome\n woman I know. And she has a daughter--a child of mine forsooth,\n if indeed Katheline has proved faithful to me. And she is a right\n comely lass, and I give her to you, for these bastards are nothing\n to me. And you must know that I have already had from the mother\n a sum of three and twenty caroluses. This money all belonged to\n her. But somewhere, unless I am a dunce, she keeps secreted the\n fortune of Claes, that heretic, you remember, who was burned\n alive at Damme--seven hundred caroluses in all, and liable to\n confiscation. But the good King Philip, who has burned so many\n of his subjects for the sake of their inheritance, cannot lay\n his claw upon this, and assuredly it will weigh heavier in my\n purse than ever it would in his. Katheline will tell me where it\n is hidden, and we will share it between us. Fortune favours the\n young, as His Sacred Majesty Charles V was never tired of saying,\n and he was a past master in all the arts of love and war.\"\n\n\nHere the clerk of the court stopped reading and said:\n\n\"Such is the letter, and it is signed Joos Damman.\"\n\nAnd the people cried out:\n\n\"To the death with the murderer! To the death with the sorcerer!\"\n\nBut the bailiff ordered them to keep silence so that judgment might be\npassed on the prisoners with every form of freedom and legality. After\nthat he addressed himself again to the aldermen.\n\n\"Now I will read to you the second letter, which is the letter Nele\nfound sewn into the pocket of Katheline's Sunday gown. These are the\nterms of it:\n\n\n \"Sweet witch, here is the recipe of a mixture which was sent to\n me by the wife of Lucifer himself. By the aid of this mixture\n it is possible to be transported to the sun, the moon, and the\n stars, and you can hold converse with the elemental spirits who\n carry the prayers of men to God, and can traverse the cities,\n towns, rivers, and fields of all the world. Mix equal parts of\n the following: stramonium, solanum, somniferum, henbane, opium,\n fresh ends of hemp, belladonna, and thorn-apple. Then drink. If\n it is your wish we will go this very night to the Sabbath of the\n Spirits. But you must love me more, and not be cold to me like\n you were the other night, refusing to give me even ten florins,\n and denying that you had got them! For I know very well you have\n a treasure in your hiding but will not tell me where. Do you not\n love me any more, my sweetheart?--Your cold devil,\n\n\n \"Hanske.\"\n\n\n\"To death with the sorcerer!\" cried the crowd.\n\nThe bailiff said:\n\n\"Let the two handwritings be compared.\"\n\nWhen this had been done, and when it had been found that they were\nin all respects similar, the bailiff said:\n\n\"After these proofs, Messire Joos Damman is found to be a sorcerer,\na murderer, a seducer of women, a robber of the property of the King,\nand as such he must be accounted guilty of high treason against God\nand man.\"\n\nAnd the bailiff and the aldermen gave judgment on Joos Damman, and he\nwas condemned to be degraded from the rank of a nobleman, and to be\nburned alive in the slower fire till death supervened. And he underwent\nthis punishment on the following day in front of the Town Hall. And\nall the time he kept on crying: \"Let the witch perish, it is she and\nshe alone who is guilty! Cursed be God! My father will avenge me!\"\n\nAnd the people said: \"Behold how he curses and blasphemes. He is\ndying the death of a dog.\"\n\nOn the next day, the bailiff and the aldermen gave sentence upon\nKatheline. She was condemned to undergo the trial by water in the\nBruges Canal. If she floated she would be burned for a witch. If she\nsank and was drowned she would be considered to have died the death\nof a Christian and would be buried in the churchyard.\n\nSo on the morrow Katheline was conducted to the canal-bank, holding\na candle in her hand and walking barefoot in a shift of black\nlinen. Along by the trees went the long procession. In front was\nthe Dean of Notre Dame, chanting the prayers for the dead, and with\nhim were his vicars, and the beadle carrying the cross. Behind came\nthe bailiff of Damme, the aldermen, the clerks, the sergeants of the\ncommune, the provost, the executioner and his two assistants. On the\nedge of the procession there followed a great crowd of women crying,\nand men mourning, in pity for Katheline, who herself walked like a\nlamb that allows itself to be led whither it knows not. And all the\ntime she kept on crying:\n\n\"Put out the fire! My head is burning! Hans, where are you?\"\n\nIn the midst of the women was Nele, who kept crying also:\n\n\"Let them throw me in with her!\"\n\nBut the women did not suffer her to come near to Katheline.\n\nA sharp wind came blowing in from the sea, and from the grey sky a fine\nhail fell dripping into the water of the canal. Now there was a boat\nmoored by the side of the water, and this boat the executioner and\nhis assistants commandeered in the name of His Royal Majesty. Then\nKatheline was ordered to step down into the boat. She obeyed at\nonce, and the executioner was seen standing by her side and holding\nher securely. Then the provost raised the rod of justice, and the\nexecutioner threw Katheline into the canal. For a while she struggled,\nbut soon sank, with one last cry: \"Hans! Hans! Help!\"\n\nAnd the people said: \"This woman was no witch.\"\n\nThereafter certain men who were there jumped into the canal and\ndragged Katheline out again, senseless and rigid as one dead. And\nshe was taken into a tavern near by, and placed in front of a bright\nfire. Nele took off her garments wringing wet as they were, meaning\nto put dry ones on her. After a while she regained consciousness, and\ncried out, all trembling and with her teeth chattering: \"Hans! Give\nme a cloak of wool!\"\n\nBut Katheline could not be warmed. And on the third day she died. And\nshe was buried in the garden of the church.\n\nAnd Nele, the orphan, went away into Holland, and dwelt at the house\nof Rosa van Auweghem.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXII\n\n\nIn those days it was that the Beggarmen, among whom were Lamme and\nUlenspiegel, took the city of Gorcum by storm. And they were led\nin this enterprise by one Captain Marin. This Marin had once been a\nworkman on the dikes, but now he bore himself with great haughtiness\nand effrontery, and he signed an agreement with Gaspard Turc, the\ndefender of Gorcum, by which it was agreed that the city should\ncapitulate on condition that Turc himself, together with the monks,\ncitizens, and soldiers who had been shut up in the citadel, should be\nallowed to pass out freely, their muskets on their shoulders and with\nanything that they could carry with them--save only what belonged to\nthe churches, which was to remain in the hands of the victors. But in\nspite of this agreement, Captain Marin, acting under an order from\nMessire de Lumey, detained nineteen monks as his prisoners, while\nthe rest of the citizens were allowed to go free as had been promised.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel said:\n\n\"Word of a soldier, word of gold. Why has the captain been false to\nhis promise?\"\n\nAn old Beggarman answered Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"The monks are the sons of Satan, the canker of our nation, the shame\nof our country. Dogs are chained up--let the monks be also chained,\nfor they are the bloodhounds of the Duke. Long live the Beggarmen!\"\n\n\"But,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"we must remember that my Lord of Orange,\nthe Prince of Liberty, has ordered us to respect the property and\nthe free conscience of all such as give themselves up into our power.\"\n\nSome of the older Beggarmen replied that the admiral could not do so\nin the case of the monks. \"And he is master here,\" they added. \"It\nwas he that took La Briele. To prison with the monks!\"\n\n\"A soldier's word is a word of gold,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"Parole de\nsoldat, parole d'or. Why should we ever break our word?\"\n\n\"No longer do the ashes beat upon your heart,\" they told him. \"Hear\nyou not the souls of the dead that cry for vengeance?\"\n\n\"The ashes beat upon my heart,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"Parole de soldat,\nc'est parole d'or.\"\n\nThe next day a message arrived from Messire de Lumey to the effect\nthat the nineteen monks were to be brought as prisoners from Gorcum\nto La Briele where the admiral was then stationed.\n\n\"They will be hanged,\" said Captain Marin to Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Not as long as I am alive,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"My son,\" said Lamme, \"you must not speak in this way to Messire de\nLumey. He is a stern man, and will have you hanged as well as the\nmonks if you are not careful.\"\n\n\"I shall tell him the truth,\" answered Ulenspiegel. \"Parole de soldat,\nc'est parole d'or.\"\n\n\"If you think that you can save them,\" said Marin, \"I will give you\npermission to go with them by ship to La Briele. Take Rochus with\nyou as pilot, and your friend Lamme if you please as well.\"\n\n\"I will,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nThe ship was moored by the quay side, and the nineteen monks were taken\naboard. Rochus took charge of the helm, while Ulenspiegel and Lamme\nplaced themselves at the bow. Certain vagabond soldiers who had joined\nthe Beggarmen for the sake of plunder were stationed by the monks, who\nnow began to wax hungry. Ulenspiegel gave them food and drink. Then\nthe sailors began to murmur one to another, saying: \"This man is a\ntraitor.\" Meanwhile the nineteen monks were seated sanctimoniously in\nthe midst, and they were shivering although the month was July and the\nsun was shining hot and clear, and a gentle breeze filled the sails\nof the ship as it glided, heavy and full-bellied, over the green waves.\n\nFather Nicholas then began to speak, addressing himself to the pilot:\n\n\"O Rochus,\" he said, \"are they taking us to the gallows-field?\" Then,\nturning his face towards Gorcum: \"O city of Gorcum,\" he cried,\nstretching out his hands, \"O city of Gorcum, how many evils hast thou\nstill to suffer! Verily thou shalt be cursed among all the cities\nof the earth, for thou hast nurtured within thy walls the seed of\nheresy! O city of Gorcum! For now no longer shall the angel of the\nLord stand watch above thy gates, no longer shall he have any care\nfor the modesty of thy virgins, or the courage of thy men, or for\nthe fortunes of thy merchants! O city of Gorcum, accursed thou art\nand doomed to misfortune!\"\n\n\"Cursed and accursed indeed!\" answered Ulenspiegel. \"As accursed as is\nthe comb that has combed away the lice of Spain, or accursed as the\ndog that has broken the chain that held him captive, or as the proud\ncharger that has thrown from his back the cruel cavalier! Be cursed\nyourself, silly preacher that you are, who think it an evil thing to\nbreak the rod upon the back of a tyrant, even if it be a rod of iron!\"\n\nThe monk was silenced, and dropping his eyes he seemed lost in a\ndream of hate and bigotry.\n\nThe next morning they arrived at La Briele, and a messenger was sent\nto advise Messire de Lumey of their coming.\n\nAs soon as he had received the news he set out to go to them on\nhorseback, half dressed as he was, and with him went a company of\narmed men, some on foot and some on horseback. And now once again was\nit given to Ulenspiegel to behold this fierce admiral dressed as he\nwas like some noble, proud and opulent.\n\n\"Welcome,\" said he, \"Sir Monks. And now hold up your hands and show\nme there the blood of my Lords of Egmont and Hoorn!\"\n\nOne of the monks, whose name was Leonard, made answer:\n\n\"Do what you like with us. We are monks. No one will make any\nobjection.\"\n\n\"He has well spoken,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"For having broken with\nthe world--that is with father, mother, brother and sister, wife and\nsweetheart--a monk finds no one at the hour of God to claim anything on\nhis behalf. Nevertheless, your Excellency, I will do so. For Captain\nMarin, when he signed the treaty for the capitulation of Gorcum,\nstipulated that these monks should be free like all the others that\nwere taken in the citadel and were allowed to go out from it. But\nin spite of this, and for no adequate reason, these monks were kept\nprisoner, and now it is reported that they are to be hanged. My Lord,\nI address myself to you right humbly on their behalf, for I know\nthat the word of a soldier is a word of gold--parole de soldat,\nc'est parole d'or.\"\n\n\"And who are you?\" asked Messire de Lumey.\n\n\"My Lord,\" replied Ulenspiegel, \"a Fleming I am from the lovely land\nof Flanders, working man, nobleman, all in one--and I go wandering\nthrough the world, praising things beautiful and good but boldly\nmaking fun of foolishness. And verily I will sing your praises if\nyou will keep the promise which was made to these men by the captain:\nparole de soldat, c'est parole d'or.\"\n\nBut the good-for-nothing Beggarmen who were on the ship cried out\nat this.\n\n\"My Lord,\" said they, \"this man is a traitor. He has promised them\nthat he will save them, and he has been loading them with bread and\nham and sausages. But to us he has given nothing at all.\"\n\nThen Messire de Lumey said to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Wandering Fleming that you are, and protector of monks, I tell you\nI will have you hanged with them.\"\n\n\"I am not afraid,\" replied Ulenspiegel. \"Parole de soldat, c'est\nparole d'or.\"\n\nThe monks were led away to a barn, and Ulenspiegel with them. There\nthey tried to convert him with many theological arguments; but these\nsoon sent him to sleep.\n\nIn the meanwhile Messire de Lumey was feasting at a table covered\nwith meats and wines when a messenger arrived from Gorcum from\nCaptain Marin, bringing with him copies of those letters of William\nthe Silent, Prince of Orange, which ordered \"all governors of cities\nand other places to confer the same privileges of safety and surety\non ecclesiastics as on the rest of the people.\"\n\nThe messenger asked to be brought into the presence of de Lumey so\nthat he might put into his own hands the copies of these letters.\n\n\"Where are the originals?\" inquired de Lumey.\n\n\"My master has them,\" said the messenger.\n\n\"And the churl sends me the copy!\" said de Lumey. \"Where is your\npassport?\"\n\n\"Here, my Lord,\" said the messenger.\n\nThen Messire de Lumey began to read it aloud:\n\n\"My Lord and Master Marin Brandt commands all ministers, governors,\nand officers of the Republic that they should allow to pass....\" etc.\n\nDe Lumey struck the table with his fist, and tore the passport in two.\n\n\"Sang de Dieu!\" he cried. \"What is he doing meddling here, this\nMarin? This trumpery fellow who before the taking of La Briele had not\nso much as the bone of a smoked herring to place between his teeth! He\ncalls himself 'My Lord' forsooth, and 'Master,' and sends to me his\n'orders'! He commands and orders! You may tell your master that since\nhe is so much of a Captain and so much of a My Lord, ordering and\ncommanding so excellently well, the monks shall be hanged forthwith,\nand you with them if you don't get out at once.\"\n\nAnd he gave the man a great kick and had him removed from the room.\n\n\"Bring me to drink,\" he cried. \"Have you ever seen anything to compare\nwith the effrontery of this Marin? I could spit my food out, so angry I\nam. Let the monks be hanged immediately, and let the wandering Fleming\nbe brought hither to me as soon as he has witnessed the execution. We\nwill see if he still dares to tell me that I have done wrong. Blood\nof God! What are these pots and glasses doing here?\"\n\nAnd with a great noise he brake the bowls and dishes, and no one\ndurst say anything to him. The servants would have cleared up the\ndebris but he would not allow them, but went on drinking yet more;\nand growing more and more enraged he strode up and down the room,\ntreading the broken pieces and stamping upon them furiously.\n\nUlenspiegel was brought before him.\n\n\"Well?\" he said. \"What news of your friends the monks?\"\n\n\"They have been hanged,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"And those cowards of\nexecutioners, whose game it is to kill for profit, have cut one of\nthem open to sell the fat to an apothecary. And now the word of a\nsoldier is gold no more. Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or.\"\n\nThen de Lumey stamped again upon the broken dishes.\n\n\"So you defy me, do you, you good-for-nothing beast! But you also\nshall be hanged, not in my barn forsooth, but in the open street,\nmost ignominiously, where all can see you!\"\n\n\"Shame on you,\" cried Ulenspiegel. \"Shame on us all! Parole de soldat\nn'est plus parole d'or.\"\n\n\"Silence, Iron-pate!\" said Messire de Lumey.\n\n\"Shame on you again!\" cried Ulenspiegel. \"Parole de soldat n'est plus\nparole d'or. You ought rather to be punishing those rascals that are\nmerchants in human fat!\"\n\nAt this Messire de Lumey rushed at Ulenspiegel and raised his hand\nto strike at him.\n\n\"Strike,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"I am in your hands. But I have no fear\nat all of you. Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or.\"\n\nMessire de Lumey drew his sword, and would certainly have killed\nUlenspiegel had not Messire Tres-Long taken him by the arm, saying:\n\n\"Have mercy. He is a brave and valiant man and has committed no crime.\"\n\nThen de Lumey thought better of the matter.\n\n\"Let him ask my pardon then,\" he said.\n\nBut Ulenspiegel stood his ground.\n\n\"Never,\" he said.\n\n\"At least he must admit that I was not in the wrong,\" cried de Lumey,\ngrowing angry again.\n\nUlenspiegel answered:\n\n\"I will lick no man's boots. Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or.\"\n\n\"Tell them to put up the gallows,\" said de Lumey, \"and let this man\nbe taken where he may hear the way a halter speaks.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"and I will cry out there in front of all\nthe people, Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or.\"\n\nThe gallows was set up in the market square, and the news spread\nswiftly through the city how Ulenspiegel, the brave Beggarman,\nwas going to be hanged. And the populace was moved with pity and\ncompassion, and a great crowd collected in the market square. And\nMessire de Lumey came there also, being desirous himself to give the\nsignal for the execution.\n\nHe regarded Ulenspiegel without pity as he stood upon the scaffold,\ndressed to meet his death in a single garment with his arms bound\nto his sides, his hands clasped together, the cord round his neck,\nand the executioner ready to do the deed.\n\nTres-Long said:\n\n\"My Lord, pardon him now; he is no traitor, and no one has ever heard\nof a man being hanged simply because he was sincere and pitiful.\"\n\nAnd the men and women in the crowd, hearing Tres-Long speak in\nthis wise, cried out also: \"Have pity, my Lord! Mercy and pardon\nfor Ulenspiegel!\"\n\n\"The Iron-pate has defied me,\" said de Lumey. \"Let him admit he was\nwrong and that I was in the right.\"\n\n\"Will you?\" said Tres-Long to Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or,\" Ulenspiegel answered.\n\n\"Draw the cord,\" said de Lumey.\n\nThe executioner was about to obey when a young maid, dressed all\nin white and with a wreath of flowers round her head, ran up the\nsteps of the scaffold like one mad, and threw herself on the neck\nof Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"This man is mine,\" she said. \"I take him for my husband.\"\n\nAnd the people broke into applause, and the women cried aloud:\n\n\"Long live the maid, long live the maid that has saved the life\nof Ulenspiegel!\"\n\n\"What does this mean?\" demanded Messire de Lumey.\n\nTres-Long answered:\n\n\"You must know that by the legal usages and customs of our city any\nyoung maid or unmarried girl has the right to save a man from hanging,\nprovided that she be willing to take him for her husband at the foot\nof the gallows.\"\n\n\"God is on his side,\" said de Lumey. \"Unloose his fetters.\"\n\nThen riding up close to the scaffold he saw how the executioner\nwas endeavouring to prevent the maid from severing the cords which\nbound Ulenspiegel, telling her at the same time that he didn't know\nwho would pay the price of the cords if she cut them. But the damsel\ndid not appear even to hear him. Seeing her so hasty in her love and\nso cunning withal, the heart of de Lumey was softened within him,\nand he asked the maid who she might be.\n\n\"I am Nele,\" she answered him, \"the betrothed of Ulenspiegel, and I\nam come from Flanders to seek him.\"\n\n\"You have done well,\" said de Lumey in a disdainful tone. And he\nwent away.\n\nThen Tres-Long approached the scaffold.\n\n\"Young Fleming,\" he said, \"when once you are married, will you still\nserve as a soldier in our ships?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"But you, my girl, what will you do without your husband?\"\n\nNele answered:\n\n\"If you will allow me, sir, I am fain to become a piper in his ship.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Tres-Long.\n\nAnd he gave her two florins for the wedding feast. And Lamme cried for\njoy and laughed at the same time, and he gave her three other florins,\nsaying: \"We will eat them all. And I will pay. Let us to the sign of\nthe Golden Comb. He is not dead, my friend. Long live the Beggarmen!\"\n\nAnd the people shouted assent, and they repaired to the tavern of\nthe Golden Comb, where a great feast was ordered, and from an upper\nwindow Lamme threw down pennies to the people in the street below.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel said to Nele:\n\n\"Sweetest and best beloved, here we are together once again! Noel! For\nshe is here, flesh, heart, and soul of my sweet love. Oh, her soft\neyes and her red and lovely lips that can speak naught but words of\nkindness! She has saved my life, my tender lover! And now it's you and\nonly you that shall play upon our ship the fife of deliverance! Do\nyou remember ... but no.... This is our hour of joy, and all for me\nis now this face, sweet as June flowers. I am in Paradise. But why,\ntell me.... You are crying!\"\n\n\"They have killed her,\" she said. And then Nele told him all the sad\nstory of the death of Katheline. And gazing one at the other they\nwept for love and for sorrow.\n\nBut at the feast they ate and drank, and Lamme as he looked upon them\ngrieved within himself, saying:\n\n\"Alas! my wife, where are you?\"\n\nAnd the priest came and married Nele and Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd the morning found them side by side in their bed of marriage.\n\nAnd Nele's head was resting on the shoulder of Ulenspiegel. And when\nthe sun had awakened her he said:\n\n\"Fresh face, soft heart, we two will be the avengers of the land\nof Flanders!\"\n\nShe kissed him on the mouth, saying:\n\n\"Wild head, strong arms, God bless my fife and your sword.\"\n\n\"I will make for you a soldier's habit,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Now? At once?\"\n\n\"At once,\" he told her. \"But who was that man who said that\nstrawberries were sweet in the early morning? Your lips are far,\nfar sweeter.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXIII\n\n\nBy sea, by river, in fair weather and foul, through snows of winter\nand summer's heat, the ships of the Beggarmen sailed before the\nbreeze. Full-bellied was their canvas and white as the down of\nswans--white swans of Liberty.\n\nBut to the King of Blood came the news of their conquests, and\ndeath was already at work upon his vitals, and his body was full of\nworms. And he dragged himself along the corridors of his palace at\nValladolid, and he never laughed--not even at daybreak, what time\nthe Sun rose to irradiate all the lands of his empire as with the\nvery smile of God.\n\nBut Ulenspiegel, Lamme, and Nele sang out like birds, living from\nday to day, having joy to hear of many a funeral pyre put out by the\nbrave Beggarmen. And Tyl sang five songs, all to the glory of the\nland of Flanders and to the despite of her enemies.\n\nAnd it came to pass that on a day, having taken the towns of Rammeken,\nGertruydenberg, and Alckmaer, the Beggarmen returned to Flushing. And\nthere in the harbour they beheld a little boat moored. And in the\nboat was a pretty-looking woman with golden-brown hair, brown eyes,\nfresh cheeks, rounded arms, and white hands. And all at once the\nwoman cried out:\n\n\"Lamme! Lamme!\" And then again: \"Ah, but you must not approach me! I\nhave taken a vow before God.... Yet I love you. Ah, my dear husband!\"\n\nNele said: \"It is Calleken Huysbrechts--the fair Calleken!\"\n\n\"Even so,\" answered the woman. \"But, alas! the hour of noon has\nalready struck for my beauty.\" And she looked very sorrowful.\n\nBut now Lamme jumped down from the ship into a little skiff, which\nwas straightway brought alongside of the boat wherein was his wife.\n\n\"What have you been doing?\" he asked her. \"What has been happening\nto you? Why did you leave me? And why now do you make as though you\nwould have none of me?\"\n\nThen Calleken told him, in a voice that oftentimes trembled with tears,\nhow that she had entrusted the care of her soul to a monk, one Brother\nCornelis Adriaensen, and how he had warned her against her husband\nfor that he was a heretic and a consorter with heretics. How also by\nhis eloquence he had persuaded her that a life of celibacy was most\npleasing unto God and his saints, albeit he oftentimes profaned the\nholy confessional with many a penance that was most distressful to\nher modesty. \"Nevertheless,\" she ended, \"I swear before God that I\nremained ever faithful to you, my husband, for I loved you.\"\n\nBut Lamme gazed upon her sadly and reproachfully, so that Nele said\nto him:\n\n\"If Calleken has been faithful as she says, it behoves her now to\nleave you in very deed, as a punishment for your unkindness.\"\n\n\"He knows not how I love him,\" said Calleken.\n\n\"Is this the truth?\" cried Lamme. And then seeing that it was so:\n\"Then come, wife,\" he cried, \"the winter is over!\"\n\nThereafter, having given and received from all the kiss of peace:\n\"Come now,\" cried Lamme, \"come, wife, with me. For now is the hour\nof lawful loves!\"\n\nAnd together they sailed away in their little boat.\n\nMeanwhile the soldiers, the sailors, and the ship's boys that\nstood around, all waved their caps in the air and shouted: \"Adieu,\nbrother! Adieu, Lamme! Adieu, brother--brother and friend!\"\n\nAnd Nele removed with the tip of her sweet finger a tear that had\nsettled in the corner of the eye of Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"You are sad, my love?\" she asked him.\n\n\"He was good,\" Tyl said.\n\nNele sighed.\n\n\"Ah! This war--will it never end? Must we live for ever thus, in the\nmidst of blood and tears?\"\n\n\"Let us seek the Seven,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"The hour of deliverance\nis at hand.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXIV\n\n\nIt was the season of harvest. The air was heavy, the wind warm. They\nthat gathered the harvest were able now to reap at their ease, under\na free sky and from a free soil, the corn they had sown.\n\nFrise, Drenthe, Overyssel, Gueldre, Utrecht, Noord Brabant, Noord\nand Zuid Holland; Walcheren, Noord and Zuid Beveland; Duiveland and\nSchouwen which together make up Zeeland; the sea-bordering lands to the\nnorth from Knokke to Helder; the isles of Texel, Vlieland, Ameland,\nand Schiermonik Oog--all were being delivered from the Spanish yoke,\nfrom the Eastern Scheldt to the Oost Ems. And Maurice, the son of\nWilliam the Silent, was continuing the war.\n\nUlenspiegel and Nele kept still their youthfulness, their strength\nand their beauty, for the Love and the Spirit of Flanders never grow\nold. And they lived happily at the Tower of Neere, waiting for that\nday when, after so many cruel trials, they would be able to breathe\nthe breath of liberty upon their native land of Belgium.\n\nUlenspiegel had asked to be made governor and guardian of the\nTower. For he had, so he said, the eyes of an eagle and the ears of\na hare, and so he would be able to see at once if the Spaniard ever\ndared to show himself again in the lands that had been delivered from\nhis yoke. Then quickly would he sound the wacharm, the alarm-bell as\nwe call it in our tongue.\n\nTo this request the magistrate consented, and in virtue of the good\nservice he had rendered, Ulenspiegel was allowed a florin every day,\ntwo pints of beer, a ration of beans, cheese, biscuits, and three\npounds of beef weekly.\n\nAnd so did Ulenspiegel and Nele live on the Tower together very\nhappily, having joy to see in the distance the free isles of Zeeland,\nand near at hand the woods and castles and fortresses, and the armed\nships of the Beggarmen that guarded the coast.\n\nAt night they would often mount to the top of the Tower, and there\nthey would sit together on the flat roof, talking of many a stern\nbattle and telling many a tale of love, past and to come. And from\ntheir Tower they could see the ocean, which, when the weather was hot,\nfurled and unfurled along the shore its shining waves, and threw them\nupon the island-coasts like wraiths of fire. And among the polders\nthe will-o'-the-wisps would come a-dancing. And Nele was afraid of\nthem, for she said they were the souls of the poor dead. And true it\nwas that all those places where they danced had once been fields of\nbattle. And the will-o'-the-wisps would oftentimes spring forth from\nthe polders, and run along the dikes, and then return again to the\npolders, as though unwilling to leave the bodies whence they had come.\n\nOne night Nele said to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Behold how many spirits there are in Dreiveland, and how high\nthey fly! Over there by the Isle of Birds they seem to crowd the\nthickest. Will you come with me there one night, Tyl? We would take\nwith us the balm that can show us things invisible to mortal eyes.\"\n\nBut Ulenspiegel answered:\n\n\"If you mean the balm we took when we went to the great Sabbath of\nSpring, I have no more faith or confidence in what we saw there than\nin any idle dream.\"\n\n\"It is wrong to deny the power of charms,\" said Nele. \"Come,\nUlenspiegel!\"\n\n\"Very well,\" he said.\n\nThe next day Ulenspiegel arranged with the magistrate that one of\nthe soldiers who had clear sight and a faithful heart should take\nhis place at the Tower for that one evening. And away he went with\nNele towards the Isle of Birds.\n\nThey passed along by many a field and dike, till at last they saw the\nsea in front of them, and in it were set many little green islands with\nthe waves coursing in between. And all about the grassy hills, which\nsoon began to lose themselves in the sand-dunes, a great quantity of\npeewits were flying high and low, and sea-gulls and sea-swallows. Some\nof these birds would crowd together on the surface of the sea, and\nstay there quite still, so that they looked like little white islets;\nand above them and about flew thousands of their fellows. The very\nsoil itself was full of their nests, and Ulenspiegel stooped down\nto pick up one of their eggs which was lying on the road. No sooner\nhad he done so than a sea-gull came flapping towards him, crying out\nthe while most dolefully. And in answer to this summons there flew\nup a hundred other sea-gulls, crying out as if in anguish, hovering\nabout the head of Ulenspiegel and over the neighbouring nests. But\nthey did not dare to approach him.\n\n\"Ulenspiegel,\" said Nele, \"these birds are asking you to have mercy\non their eggs.\"\n\nThen she began to tremble, and said:\n\n\"I am afraid. Behold, the sun is setting, the sky is pale, the stars\nare awakening, it is the hour of the spirits. And look at these ruddy\nexhalations which rise all about us and seem as it were to trail along\nthe ground. Tyl, my beloved, what monster from hell may he be who thus\nin the mist begins to open his fiery mouth? And look over there towards\nPhilipsland. It was there that the murderer king had all those poor men\ndone to death, not once but twice, and all for the sake of his cruel\nambition! And there this night the will-o'-the-wisps are dancing. For\nthis is the night when the souls of poor men killed in battle leave\ntheir bodies all cold in purgatory, and come to warm themselves once\nagain in the tepid air of earth. This is the hour when you may ask\nanything you will of Christ, He who is Lord of all good wizards.\"\n\n\"The ashes beat upon my heart,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"Would that He would\nshow me those Seven whose ashes, they say, when thrown to the winds,\nwould make Flanders happy again, and all the world!\"\n\n\"O man without faith,\" said Nele. \"By the power of the balm it may\nbe you will see them.\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"if some spirit, forsooth, would come down\nto visit us from that cold star.\" And he pointed with his finger to\nthe star Sirius.\n\nNo sooner had he made this gesture than a will-o'-the-wisp that\nhad been flying round them came and attached itself to his finger,\nand the more Ulenspiegel tried to shake it off the firmer the little\nwisp held on. Nele tried to free Ulenspiegel, but now she also had a\nlittle wisp firm on the tip of her finger, and neither would it let her\ngo. Ulenspiegel began to flick at the wisp with his free hand, saying:\n\n\"Answer me now, are you the soul of a Beggarman or of a Spaniard? If\nyou are a Beggarman's you may go to Paradise, but if a Spaniard's,\nreturn to the hell whence you came.\"\n\nNele said to him:\n\n\"Do not abuse the souls of the dead, even though they be the souls\nof murderers!\"\n\nThen, making the little will-o'-the-wisp to dance at the end of\nher finger:\n\n\"Wisp,\" she said, \"gentle wisp, come tell me what news do you bring\nfrom the land of souls? What rule do they live by down there? Do they\neat and drink, having no mouths? For you have none, my sweet! Or\nwait they, perhaps, till they come to blessed Paradise ere taking\nupon themselves a human form?\"\n\n\"Why waste time in talking to a peevish little flame that has no ears\nto hear with, no mouth wherewith to answer?\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nBut paying no attention to him, Nele went on:\n\n\"Wisp of mine, answer me now by dancing. For I am going to question\nyou thrice. Once in the name of God, once in the name of Our Lady,\nand once in the name of the Elemental Spirits who are the messengers\nbetween God and men.\"\n\nAnd this she did, and three times did the elf dance in answer.\n\nThen Nele said to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Take off your clothes, and I will do the same. See, here is the\nsilver box which holds the balm of vision.\"\n\n\"Be it as you wish,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nWhen they had undressed and anointed themselves with the balm of\nvision, they lay down naked as they were beside one another on\nthe grass.\n\nThe sea-gulls screamed; the thunder growled and rumbled, and in the\ndarkness the lightning flashed. Between two clouds the moon scarcely\nshowed her crescent's golden horns; and the will-o'-the-wisps departed\nfrom Nele and Ulenspiegel to go off dancing with their comrades in\nthe fields.\n\nSuddenly a great giant hand took hold of Nele and her lover, and threw\nthem high in air as though they had been a child's playthings. Then\nthe giant caught them again, rolled them one on the other and kneaded\nthem between his hands, and after that he threw them into a pool of\nwater that lay between the hills, and last of all he dragged them out\nagain full of water and water-weeds. And the giant began to sing in a\nvoice so loud that all the sea-gulls of the islands awakened in terror:\n\n\n With eyes that squint they would discern,\n These silly, wandering insect-mortals,\n The sacred symbols none may learn,\n Safe guarded now within our portals\n\n Read then, flea, the mystery high,\n Read then, louse, the secret vast,\n Which to earth and air and sky\n By seven nails is anchored fast!\n\n\nAnd now it was that Ulenspiegel and Nele discerned on the grass and\nin the air and in the sky, seven tablets of bronze all strangely\nluminous. And they were held there by seven flaming nails. And on\nthe tablets was written:\n\n\n From the dung-heap flowers arise,\n Seven are wicked, but seven are good.\n Hid in coal the diamond lies,\n Bad teacher oft makes pupil wise;\n Seven are bad, but seven are good.\n\n\nAnd the giant walked on, followed by all the will-o'-the-wisps,\nwho were whispering together like grasshoppers, and saying:\n\n\n Look at him well--the Master of All,\n Before him Caesar himself must fall.\n Pope of Popes, King of Kings,\n Fashioned of wood he is Lord of All Things.\n\n\nSuddenly the lines of the giant's face suffered a change. He seemed\nthinner, sadder and greater than ever. And in one hand he held a\nsceptre, and in the other a sword. And his name was Pride.\n\nAnd throwing Nele and Ulenspiegel to the ground, he said:\n\n\"I am God.\"\n\nThen by his side there appeared a ruddy-faced girl, and she was seated\non the back of a goat, and her bosom was bare, her gown half open,\nand she had a wanton eye; and her name was Luxury. After her there\ncame an old woman, a Jewess, who was busy all the time, scraping up\nthe egg-shells of the sea-gulls that lay about on the ground; and her\nname was Avarice. Then a monk appeared, most greedy and gluttonous,\neating chitterlings he was, and cramming himself with sausages and\nchamping his jaws together without ceasing, like the sow whereon\nhe rode; and his name was Greed. Thereafter came Idleness, dragging\none leg after the other; wan she was and bloated, and she had a dull\neye. And Anger came chasing after Idleness with a sharp needle with\nwhich she pricked her so that she cried aloud, and Idleness grieved\nand lamented with many tears, and kept falling down on to her knees so\ntired she was. Last of all came Envy, a thin figure with a head like\na viper and teeth like the teeth of a pike. And she kept biting all\nthe others with those cruel teeth of hers--Idleness because she had\ntoo much leisure, Anger because she was too lively, Greed because he\nwas too well fed, Luxury because she was too ruddy, Avarice because\nof the treasure of shells she had amassed, Pride because of his robe\nof purple and his crown. And the wisps kept dancing all around, and\nthey spake with many voices like the voices of men, women, and girls,\nand in the plaintive voices of children, and they groaned, saying:\n\n\"O Pride, father of Ambition, and you, O Anger, that are the source\nof cruelty, you slew us on many a battlefield, and caused our death\nin many a prison and many a torture-chamber, that you might keep\nyour sceptres and your crowns! And you, O Envy, that have destroyed\nso many useful thoughts while yet in the germ, we are the souls of\nthe inventors whom you have persecuted. Avarice, you it is that have\nturned the blood of the poor into gold, and we are the souls of your\nvictims. O Luxury, you are the friend and the sister of Murder; Nero,\nMessalina, Philip King of Spain--such are your children, and you\nbuy virtue and you bribe corruption, and we are the souls of your\ndead. And you, O Idleness, and you, Greed, you befoul the world,\nbut the world must be cleansed of you; we are the souls of those who\nhave perished at your hands.\"\n\nAnd a voice was heard saying:\n\n\n From the dung-heap flowers arise,\n Seven are wicked, but seven are good.\n Bad teacher oft makes pupil wise.\n Now longs the wandering louse comprise\n Both coal and cinder if he could!\n\n\nThen spake the wisps:\n\n\"Fire. We are Fire--the avenger of all old tears and all old pains\nwhich the people have suffered; the avenger of all the human game\nthat has been hunted for pleasure by the Lords of this land; the\navenger of all battles fought to no purpose, of all the blood that\nhas been spilt in prison, of all the men burned at the stake and the\nwomen and girls buried alive; the avenger of all the past of blood\nand chains. The Fire--that is Us--we are the souls of the dead.\"\n\nAt these words the Seven were suddenly transformed into images of\nwood, though they still lost nothing of their former outline; and a\nvoice was heard saying:\n\n\"Burn the wood, Ulenspiegel.\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel turned towards the will-o'-the-wisps:\n\n\"You that are made of fire, do your office.\"\n\nAnd the wisps thronged around the seven images, which straightway\nburst into flame and were reduced to ashes.\n\nAnd from the ashes there flowed a river of blood.\n\nBut out of the ashes arose now seven other figures, and the first said:\n\n\"Once I was called Pride. But now my name is Nobility.\"\n\nAnd the rest spake after the same fashion, and Nele and Ulenspiegel\nsaw how Economy came forth from Avarice; Vivacity from Anger; Healthy\nAppetite from Gluttony; Emulation from Envy; and from Idleness the\nDreams of poets and wise men. And Luxury, on her goat, was now\ntransformed into the likeness of a beautiful woman, and her name\nwas Love.\n\nAnd all around them danced the will-o'-the-wisps most joyously. And\nthereafter did Ulenspiegel and Nele begin to hear a thousand voices as\nof hidden men and women, that spake with a sonorous, clicking sound,\nlike that of castanets, and thus sang they:\n\n\n When over the earth and over the sea\n These Seven transformed shall reign,\n Mortals lift up your heads again,\n For happy the world shall be!\n\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel said: \"These spirits are making mock of us.\"\n\nAnd a powerful hand seized Nele by the arm, and threw her away into\nthe void. And the Spirits sang:\n\n\n When the North\n Shall kiss the West\n Then shall be the end of ruin.\n Find the Cincture.\n\n\n\"Alas!\" cried Ulenspiegel. \"North, West, Cincture! You speak in\nriddles, Sir Spirits!\"\n\nBut they went on with their singing and chattering:\n\n\n The North is the Netherland,\n Belgium is the West.\n Cincture is friendship,\n Cincture is Alliance.\n\n\n\"Now you are talking sense, Sir Spirits,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd yet again they sang:\n\n\n The Cincture, little man,\n 'Twixt Holland and Belgium--\n Firm Alliance,\n And beautiful Friendship.\n\n Alliance of Counsel,\n Alliance of Action,\n By death\n By blood,\n Were it not\n For the Scheldt,\n Little man, for the Scheldt.\n\n\n\"Alas!\" said Ulenspiegel, \"such is our life! Tears of man and laughter\nof destiny!\"\n\nAnd again the Spirits repeated their rune, and their voices were like\nthe clicking of castanets.\n\n\n Alliance by blood\n And by death\n Were it not\n For the Scheldt.\n\n\nAnd a strong hand took hold of Ulenspiegel and threw him into the void.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXV\n\n\nAs she fell, Nele rubbed her eyes but she could see nothing save the\nsun that was rising, wreathed in a golden mist. And then the tips of\nthe grass all golden too, in that radiance which was soon to tinge\nwith gold the plumage of the sea-gulls who slept as yet, but were\nabout to awaken.\n\nNele looked downwards at herself, and seeing that she was naked she\nput on her clothes with all haste. Then it was that she noticed the\nbody of Ulenspiegel where it lay there, naked also, and him also she\ncovered with his clothes. He seemed to be still asleep and she gave\nhim a shake, but he remained quite motionless like one dead. Then was\nNele seized with fear. \"Have I killed him?\" she cried. \"Have I killed\nmy love with this balm of vision? Would that I too might die! Ah,\nTyl, wake up! But he is as cold as marble!\"\n\nUlenspiegel did not awake, and two nights passed and a day, and Nele\nstill watched by his side in a fever of grief and fear.\n\nIt was at the dawn of the second day of her vigil that Nele heard the\nsound of a little bell in the distance, and saw presently a peasant\napproaching with a shovel in his hand. Behind him came a burgomaster\nwith two aldermen carrying candles, and then the cure of Stavenisse\nwith a beadle holding a parasol over his head. It appeared that they\nwere going to administer the Holy Sacrament of Unction to one Jacobsen,\na brave Beggarman, who had adopted the new religion by compulsion, but\nbeing about to die had returned to the bosom of the Holy Roman Church.\n\nWhen they came opposite to Nele they found her still crying, and\nthey saw the body of Ulenspiegel laid out on the grass in front of\nher, covered with clothes. Nele fell upon her knees in front of the\nlittle procession.\n\n\"My girl,\" said the burgomaster, \"what are you doing by this corpse?\"\n\nWithout daring to raise her eyes, Nele made answer:\n\n\"I am praying for the soul of my beloved, he that has fallen dead as\nif struck by lightning. I am alone now, and I am fain to die.\"\n\nBut already the cure was puffing with pleasure.\n\n\"Ulenspiegel the Beggarman dead!\" he cried. \"Praise be to God! Be quick\nthere, peasant, and dig a grave, and take his clothes off before you\nbury him.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Nele, getting up from the ground. \"No, you shall not take\nhis clothes, he would be cold there in the cold earth.\"\n\n\"Quick!\" cried the cure, addressing himself again to the peasant with\nthe shovel.\n\n\"You may bury him,\" said Nele, all in tears. \"I give you leave; for\nthis sand is full of lime, so that his body will keep for ever whole\nand beautiful, the body of my beloved.\"\n\nAnd half mad with anguish as she was, Nele bent over the body of\nUlenspiegel, kissing him through her tears.\n\nNow the burgomaster, the aldermen, and even the peasant had compassion\non the girl, but not so the cure, who ceased not to cry out most\njoyfully: \"The great Beggarman is dead! God be praised!\"\n\nThen the peasant dug the grave, and Ulenspiegel was placed therein,\nand covered all over with sand.\n\nAnd over the grave the cure said the prayers for the dead, and the\nothers knelt all round. Suddenly there was a great commotion in the\nsand, and Ulenspiegel arose, sneezing and shaking the sand from his\nhair, and he seized the cure by the throat.\n\n\"Inquisitor!\" he cried. \"I was asleep, and you buried me alive! Where\nis Nele? Have you buried her also? Who are you?\"\n\nThe cure began to cry out in terror:\n\n\"The great Beggarman returns to this world! Lord God have mercy on\nmy soul!\"\n\nAnd away he fled like a stag before the hounds.\n\nNele came to Ulenspiegel: \"Kiss me, dearest,\" she said.\n\nThen Ulenspiegel looked about him once more. The two peasants had\nrun off like the cure, and that they might run the faster they had\nthrown to the ground both shovel and parasol. As for the burgomaster\nand the aldermen, they lay groaning on the grass, stopping up their\nears in their fright.\n\nUlenspiegel went to them and gave them a good shaking.\n\n\"Think you that they can be buried in the ground,\" he asked them,\n\"Ulenspiegel and Nele? Nele that is the heart of our Mother Flanders,\nand Ulenspiegel that is her soul? She can sleep too, forsooth, but\ndie--never! Come, Nele.\"\n\nAnd they twain departed, Ulenspiegel singing his sixth song. But no\nman knoweth where he sang his last.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNOTE\n\n\n[1] The Author's debt to such sources is especially noticeable in\nchapters xii, xxiv, xxvi, xxx, and xxxii of the First Book.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n
","title":"The Legend of the Glorious Adventures of Tyl Ulenspiegel in the land of Flanders and elsewhere","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":98254}