{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_40004/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_40004","id":"gutenberg_40004","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40004","summary":null,"tags":["Adventure stories","Category: Adventure","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Eulenspiegel (Satire) -- Legends"],"text":"THE LEGEND OF ULENSPIEGEL\n\n                And Lamme Goedzak, and their Adventures\n                     Heroical, Joyous and Glorious\n                 in the Land of Flanders and Elsewhere\n\n                                   By\n                           CHARLES DE COSTER\n\n                             Translated by\n                             F. M. Atkinson\n\n\n\n                                Vol. II\n\n\n\n                                  1922\n\n                       London: William Heinemann\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                Page\n\n            Book III               1\n            Book IV              197\n            Book V               305\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n              THE LEGEND OF ULENSPIEGEL AND LAMME GOEDZAK\n\n                 AND THEIR ADVENTURES HEROICAL, JOYOUS,\n                      AND GLORIOUS IN THE LAND OF\n                        FLANDERS AND ELSEWHERE.\n\n\nBOOK III\n\n\nI\n\nHe goes away, the Silent One, God guideth him.\n\nThe two counts have been seized already; Alba promises the Silent\nOne lenity and pardon if he will present himself before him.\n\nAt this news, Ulenspiegel said to Lamme: \"The Duke summons, at the\ninstance of Dubois, the procurator general, the Prince of Orange,\nLudwig his brother, De Hoogstraeten, Van den Bergh, Culembourg,\nde Brederode, and other friends of the Prince's, to appear before\nhim within thrice fourteen days, promising them good justice and\ngrace. Listen, Lamme, and hearken: One day a Jew of Amsterdam summoned\none of his enemies to come down into the street; the summoner was on\nthe pavement and the summoned at a window.\n\n\"'Come down, then,' said the summoner to the summoned, 'and I will\ngive thee such a cuff on the head with my fist that it will tumble\ninto thy breast, and thou shalt look through thy ribs like a thief\nthrough the bars of his prison.'\n\n\"The summoned replied: 'Even if thou wast to promise me an hundredfold\nmore, I would not come down even then.' And so may Orange and the\nothers answer.\"\n\nAnd they did so, refusing to appear. Egmont and de Hoorn did not follow\ntheir example. And weakness in duty evokes the hour of God and fate.\n\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nAt this time were beheaded on the Horse Market at Brussels the sires\nd'Andelot, the sons of Battemberg and other renowned and valiant lords,\nthat had wished to seize Amsterdam by surprise.\n\nAnd while they were going to execution, being eighteen in number,\nand singing hymns, the drummers drummed before and behind, all along\nthe way.\n\nAnd the Spanish troopers escorting them and carrying blazing torches\nburned their bodies with them all over. And when they writhed because\nof the pain, the troopers would say: \"What now, Lutherans, does that\nhurt then to be burned so soon?\"\n\nAnd he that had betrayed them was called Dierick Slosse, who brought\nthem to Enkhuyse, that was still Catholic, to hand them over to the\nduke's catchpolls.\n\nAnd they died valiantly.\n\nAnd the king inherited.\n\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\"Didst thou see him go by?\" said Ulenspiegel, clad as a woodman,\nto Lamme similarly accoutred. \"Didst thou see the foul duke with his\nforehead flat above like an eagle's, and his long beard like a rope end\ndangling from a gallows? May God strangle him with it! Didst thou see\nthat spider with his long hairy legs that Satan vomiting spat out upon\nour country? Come, Lamme, come; we will fling stones into his web....\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said Lamme, \"we shall be burned alive.\"\n\n\"Come to Groenendal, my dear friend; come to Groenendal, there is a\nnoble cloister whither His Spiderly Dukishness goes to pray to the God\nof peace to allow him to perfect his work, which is to rejoice his\nblack spirits wallowing in carrion. We are in Lent, and it is only\nblood from which His Dukishness has no mind to fast. Come, Lamme,\nthere are five hundred armed horsemen roundabout the house of Ohain;\nthree hundred footmen have set out in little bands and are entering\nthe forest of Soignes.\n\n\"Presently, when Alba is at his devotions, we shall run out upon him,\nand having taken him, we shall put him in a good iron cage and send\nhim to the prince.\"\n\nBut Lamme, shivering in anguish:\n\n\"A great risk, my son,\" he said to Ulenspiegel. \"A great risk! I would\nfollow you in this emprise were not my legs so weak, if my belly was\nnot so blown out by reason of the thin sour beer they drink in this\ntown of Brussels.\"\n\nThis discourse was held in a hole dug in the earth in a wood, in the\nmiddle of the undergrowth. Suddenly, looking through the leaves as\nthough out of a burrow, they saw the yellow and red coats of the\nDuke's troopers, whose weapons glittered in the sun and who were\ngoing afoot through the wood.\n\n\"We are betrayed,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nWhen he saw the troopers no more, he ran at top speed as far as\nOhain. The troopers let him pass without noticing him, because of\nhis woodcutter's clothes and the load of wood he carried on his\nback. There he found the horsemen waiting; he spread the news, all\nscattered and escaped except the sire de Bausart d'Armenti\u00e8res who\nwas taken. As for the footmen that were coming from Brussels, they\ncould not find a single one.\n\nAnd it was a cowardly traitor in the regiment of the Sieur de Likes\nthat betrayed them all.\n\nThe Sire de Bausart paid cruelly for the others.\n\nUlenspiegel went, his heart beating wildly with anguish, to see his\ncruel punishment in the Cattle Market at Brussels.\n\nAnd poor d'Armenti\u00e8res, put upon the wheel, received thirty-seven\nblows of an iron bar on legs, arms, feet, and hands, which were\nbroken to pieces one by one, for the murderers desired to see him\nsuffer terribly.\n\nAnd he received the thirty-seventh on the breast, and of that one\nhe died.\n\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nOn a June day, bright and sweet, there was erected at Brussels,\non the marketplace in front of the City Hall, a scaffold covered\nwith black draperies, and hard by two tall stakes with iron spiked\nends. Upon the scaffold were two black cushions and a little table\non which there was a silver crucifix.\n\nAnd on this scaffold were put to death by the sword the noble counts\nof Egmont and of Hoorn. And the king inherited.\n\nAnd the ambassador of Fran\u00e7ois, the first of that name, said, speaking\nof Egmont:\n\n\"I have just seen the head cut from off the man that twice caused\nFrance to tremble.\"\n\nAnd the heads of the counts were set on the iron spikes.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:\n\n\"The bodies and the blood are covered with black cloth. Blessed be\nthey that shall hold their heart high and the sword straight in the\nblack days that are at hand!\"\n\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nAt this time the Silent One gathered an army and invaded the Low\nCountries from three sides.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel said at a meeting of Wild Beggars at Marenhout:\n\n\"Upon the advice of the Inquisitors, Philip, the king, has declared\neach and every inhabitant of the Low Countries guilty of treason\nthrough heresy, both for adherence to it and for not having opposed\nit, and in consideration of this execrable crime, condemns them all,\nwithout respect to sex or age, excepting those that are expressly\nnoted by name, to the penalties attached to such misdemeanours;\nand that without hope of grace. The king inherits. Death is reaping\nthroughout the wide rich lands that border on the Northern Sea,\nthe country of Emden, the river Amise, the countries of Westphalia,\nof Cl\u00e8ves, of Juliers and of Li\u00e9ge, the bishoprics of Cologne and\nof Tr\u00e8ves, the countries of Lorraine and of France. Death is reaping\nover a land of three hundred and forty leagues, in two hundred walled\ncities, in a hundred and fifty villages holding city rights, in the\ncountryside in bourgs and plains. The king inherits.\n\n\"It is nowise too much,\" he went on, \"eleven thousand butchers to\ndo the work. Alba calls them soldiers. And the land of our fathers\nhas become a charnel house whence the arts are taking flight, which\nthe trades abandon, whence industries are departing to go and enrich\nforeigners, who allow them in their land to worship the God of the\nfree conscience. Death and Ruin are reaping. The king inherits.\n\n\"The countries had acquired their privileges by dint of money given\nto needy princes; these privileges are confiscated. They had hoped, in\naccordance with the contracts entered upon and passed between them and\nthe sovereigns, to enjoy riches as the fruit of their labours. They\nare deceived: the mason builds for the fire, the worker toils for\nthe thief. The king inherits.\n\n\"Blood and tears! death reaps at the stake; upon the trees that serve\nas gallows all along the highways; in the open graves wherein poor\ngirls are thrown alive; in the judicial drownings of the prisons,\nin the circles of blazing faggots within which the victims burn by\nslow fire, in the wrappings of burning straw in which the victims\ndie in flame and smoke. The king inherits.\n\n\"So has willed the Pope in Rome.\n\n\"The cities are bursting with spies waiting for their share of the\nvictims' goods. The richer a man is, the guiltier he is. The king\ninherits.\n\n\"But the valiant men of the countries will not suffer themselves to be\nslain like lambs. Among those that flee there are armed men that take\nshelter in the woods. The monks had denounced them that they might be\nslain and their goods seized. And so by night, by day, by bands, like\nwild beasts they rush upon the cloisters, and take back from thence the\nmoney stolen from the poor people, in the shape of candelabra, gold\nand silver shrines, pyxes, patens, precious vases. Is not that so,\ngood fellows? They drink from them the wine the monks were keeping\nfor themselves. The vases melted down or pledged will serve for the\nholy war. Long live the Beggars!\"\n\n\"They harass the king's soldiers, slay them and strip them, and then\nthey flee into their dens. Day and night fires are seen lighted and\nextinguished, changing place incessantly. They are the fires of our\nfeastings. For us the game, both fur and feather. We are lords. The\npeasants give us bread and bacon when we want it. Lamme, look at\nthem. Raggedy, fierce, resolute, and proud eyed, they wander about\nthe woods with their hatchets, halberds, long swords, daggers, pikes,\nlances, crossbows, arquebuses, for all weapons are good to them,\nand they will never march under ensigns. Long live the Beggars!\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel sang:\n\n\n    \"Slaet op den trommele van dirre dom deyne\n    Slaet op den trommele van dirre doum, doum.\n        Beat upon the drum! van dirre dom deyne,\n            Beat upon the drum of war.\n\n    \"Let them tear out his bowels from the Duke!\n      Let them lash his face with them!\n    Slaet op den trommele, beat upon the drum\n    Cursed be the Duke! Death to the murderer.\n\n    \"Let him be thrown to dogs! Death to the\n        Butcher! Long live the Beggars!\n      Let him be hanged by the tongue\n    And by the arm, by the tongue that orders,\n    And by the arm that signs the sentence of death.\n\n            Slaet op den trommele.\n    Beat upon the war drum. Long live the Beggar!\n\n    \"Let the Duke be shut up alive with his victims' bodies!\n        In the noisome stench\n        Let him die of the corpse plague!\n    Beat upon the war drum. Long live the Beggar!\n\n    \"Christ from on high look on thy soldiers,\n        Risking the fire, the rope,\n        The sword for thy word's sake.\n    They will deliverance for the land of their fathers.\n    Slaet op den trommele, van dirre dom deyne.\n    Beat upon the war drum. Long live the Beggar!\"\n\n\nAnd all set to drinking and shouting:\n\n\n    \"Long live the Beggar!\"\n\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel, drinking from the gilt tankard of a monk, looked\nproudly round on the valiant faces of the Wild Beggars.\n\n\"Wild men,\" said he, \"ye are wolves, lions, and tigers. Eat the dogs\nof the bloody king.\"\n\n\"Long live the Beggar!\" said they, singing:\n\n\n    \"Slaet op den trommele van dirre dom deyne;\n    Slaet op den trommele van dirre dom dom:\n    Beat upon the war drum. Long live the Beggar!\"\n\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nUlenspiegel, being at Ypres, was recruiting soldiers for the Prince:\npursued by the Duke's catchpolls, he offered himself as beadle to the\nprovost of Saint Martin. There he had for his companion a bellringer\ncalled Pompilius Numan, a coward of the deepest dye, who at night\ntook his own shadow for the devil and his shirt for a ghost.\n\nThe provost was fat and plump as a hen fattened just ripe for the\nspit. Ulenspiegel soon saw on what grass he grazed to make himself\nso much pork. According to what he heard from the bellringer and\nsaw with his own eyes, the provost dined at nine and supped at four\nby the clock. He stayed in bed until half-past eight; then before\ndinner he went walking in his church to see if the poor-boxes were\nwell filled. And the half he put into his own pouch. At nine o'clock\nhe dined on a bowl of milk, half a leg of mutton, a little heron pie,\nand emptied five tankards of Brussels wine. At ten, sucking a few\nprunes and washing them down with Orleans wine, he prayed God never to\nbring him in the way of gluttony. At noon, he ate, to pass the time,\na wing and rump of a chicken. At one o'clock, thinking of his supper,\nhe drained a big draught of Spanish wine; then stretching himself\nout on his bed, refreshed himself with a little nap.\n\nAwaking, he would eat a little salted salmon to whet his appetite,\nand drink a great tankard of dobbel-knol of Antwerp. Then he would\ngo down into the kitchen, sit down before the chimney place and the\nnoble wood fire that flamed in it. There he watched roasting and\nbrowning for the abbey monks a big piece of veal or a well-scalded\nlittle pigling, that he would have eaten more gladly than a piece of\nbread. But his appetite was a little wanting. And he would study the\nspit, which turned by itself like a miracle. It was the work of Peter\nvan Steenkiste the smith, who lived in the castellany of Courtrai. The\nprovost paid him fifteen Paris livres for one of these spits.\n\nThen he would go up again to his bed, and dozing upon it through\nfatigue, he would wake up about three o'clock to gulp in a little\npig jelly washed down with wine of Romagna at two hundred and forty\nflorins the hogshead. At three he would eat a fledgling chick with\nMadeira sugar and empty two glasses of malvoisie at seventeen florins\nthe keg. At half-past three, he took half a pot of preserves and\nwashed it down with hydromel. Being now well awaked, he would take\none foot in his hand and rest in meditation.\n\nThe moment of supper being come, the cur\u00e9 of Saint Jean would often\narrive to visit him at this succulent hour. They sometimes disputed\nwhich could eat most fish, poultry, game, and meat. The one that\nwas quickest filled must pay a dish of carbonadoes for the other,\nwith three hot wines, four spices, and seven vegetables.\n\nThus drinking and eating, they talked together of heretics, being\nof opinion anyhow that it was impossible to do away with too many of\nthem. And then they never fell into any quarrel, except only when they\nwere discussing the thirty-nine ways of making good soups with beer.\n\nThen drooping their venerable heads upon their priestly paunches, they\nwould snore. Sometimes half waking, one of them would say that life in\nthis world is very sweet and that poor folk are very wrong to complain.\n\nThis was the saintly man whose beadle Ulenspiegel became. He served\nhim well during mass, not without filling the flagons three times,\ntwice for himself and once for the provost. The ringer Pompilius\nNuman helped him at it on occasion.\n\nUlenspiegel, who saw Pompilius so flourishing, paunchy, and full\ncheeked, asked him if it was in the provost's service he had laid up\nfor himself this treasure of enviable health.\n\n\"Aye, my son,\" replied Pompilius, \"but shut the door tight for fear\nthat one might listen to us.\"\n\nThen speaking in a whisper:\n\n\"You know,\" said he, \"that our master the provost loveth all wines\nand beers, all meats and fowl, with a surpassing love. And so he locks\nhis meats in a cupboard and his wines in a cellar, the keys of which\nare ever in his pouch. And he sleeps with his hand on them.... By\nnight when he sleeps I go and take his keys from his pouch and put\nthem back again, not without trembling, my son, for if he knew my\ncrime he would have me boiled alive.\"\n\n\"Pompilius,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"it needs not to take all that trouble,\nbut the keys one time only; I shall make keys on this pattern and we\nshall leave the others on the paunch of the good provost.\"\n\n\"Make them, my son,\" said Pompilius.\n\nUlenspiegel made the keys; as soon as he and Pompilius judged\nabout eight of the clock in the evening that the good provost was\nasleep they would go down and take what they chose of meats and\nbottles. Ulenspiegel would carry two bottles and Pompilius the meats,\nbecause Pompilius always was trembling like a leaf, and hams and legs\nof mutton do not break in falling. They took possession of fowl more\nthan once before they were cooked, which brought about the accusation\nof several cats belonging to the neighbourhood, which were done to\ndeath for the crime.\n\nThey went thereafter into the Ketel-straat, which is the street of\nthe bona robas. There they spared nothing, giving liberally to their\ndears smoked beef and ham, saveloys and poultry, and gave them wine\nof Orleans and Romagna to drink, and Ingelsche bier, which they called\nale on the other side of the sea, and which they poured in floods down\nthe fresh throats of the pretty ladies. And they were paid in caresses.\n\nHowever, one morning after dinner the provost sent for both of\nthem. He had a formidable look, sucking a marrow bone in soup, not\nwithout anger.\n\nPompilius was trembling in his shoes, and his belly was shaken with\nfear. Ulenspiegel, keeping quiet, felt at the cellar keys in his\npocket with pleased satisfaction.\n\nThe provost, addressing him, said:\n\n\"Someone is drinking my wine and eating my fowl, is it thou, my son?\"\n\n\"No,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"And this ringer,\" said the provost, pointing to Pompilius, \"hath not\nhe dipped his hands in this crime, for he is pallid as a dying man,\nassuredly because the stolen wine is poison to him.\"\n\n\"Alas! Messire,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"you wrongly accuse your ringer,\nfor if he is pale, it is not from having drunk wine, but for want\nof drinking enough, from which cause he is so loosened that if he is\nnot stopped his very soul will escape by streams into his shoes.\"\n\n\"The poor we have always with us,\" said the provost, taking a deep\ndraught of wine from his tankard. \"But tell me, my son, if thou,\nwho hast the eyes of a lynx, hast not seen the robbers?\"\n\n\"I will keep good watch for them, Messire Provost,\" replied\nUlenspiegel.\n\n\"May God have you both in his joy, my children,\" said the provost,\n\"and live soberly. For it is from intemperance that many evils come\nupon us in this vale of tears. Go in peace.\"\n\nAnd he blessed them.\n\nAnd he sucked another marrow bone in soup, and drank another great\ndraught of wine.\n\nUlenspiegel and Pompilius went out from him.\n\n\"This scurvy fellow,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"would not have given you a\nsingle drop of his wine to drink. It will be blessed bread to steal\nmore from him still. But what ails you that you are shivering?\"\n\n\"My shoes are full of water,\" said Pompilius.\n\n\"Water dries quickly, my son,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"But be merry,\nto-night there will be flagon music in the Ketel-straat. And we will\nfill up the three night watchmen, who will watch the town with snores.\"\n\nWhich was done.\n\nHowever, they were close to Saint Martin's day: the church was adorned\nfor the feast. Ulenspiegel and Pompilius went in by night, shut the\ndoors close, lit all the wax candles, took a viol and bagpipe, and\nbegan to play on these instruments all they might. And the candles\nflared like suns. But that was not all. Their task being done, they\nwent to the provost, whom they found afoot, in spite of the late hour,\nmunching a thrush, drinking Rhenish wine and opening both eyes to\nsee the church windows lit up.\n\n\"Messire Provost,\" said Ulenspiegel to him, \"would you know who eats\nyour meats and drinks your wines?\"\n\n\"And this illumination,\" said the provost, pointing to the windows\nof the church. \"Ah! Lord God, dost thou allow Master Saint Martin\nthus to burn, by night and without paying, poor monks' wax candles?\"\n\n\"He is doing something besides, Messire Provost,\" said Ulenspiegel,\n\"but come.\"\n\nThe provost took his crozier and followed with them; they went into\nthe church.\n\nThere, he saw, in the middle of the great nave, all the saints come\ndown from their niches, ranged round and as it seemed commanded\nby Saint Martin, who out-topped them all by a head, and from the\nforefinger of his hand, outstretched to bless, held up a roast\nturkey. The others had in their hands or were lifting to their mouths\npieces of chicken or goose, sausages, hams, fish raw and cooked,\nand among other things a pike weighing full fourteen pounds. And\nevery one had at his feet a flask of wine.\n\nAt this sight the provost, losing himself wholly in anger, became\nso red and his face was so congested, that Pompilius and Ulenspiegel\nthought he would burst, but the provost, without paying any heed to\nthem, went straight up to Saint Martin, threatening him as if he would\nhave laid the crime of the others to his charge, tore the turkey away\nfrom his finger and struck him such heavy blows that he broke his arm,\nhis nose, his crozier, and his mitre.\n\nAs for the others, he did not spare them bangs and thumps, and more\nthan one under his blows laid aside arms, hands, mitre, crozier,\nscythe, axes, gridirons, saw, and other emblems of dignity and of\nmartyrdom. Then the provost, his belly shaking in front of him,\nwent himself to put out all the candles with rage and speed.\n\nHe carried away all he could of hams, fowl, and sausages, and bending\nbeneath the load he came back to his bedchamber so doleful and angry\nthat he drank, draught upon draught, three great flasks of wine.\n\nUlenspiegel, being well assured that he was sleeping, took away to\nthe Ketel-straat all the provost thought he had rescued, and also\nall that remained in the church, not without first supping on the\nbest pieces. And they laid the remains and fragments at the feet of\nthe saints.\n\nNext day Pompilius was ringing the bell for matins; Ulenspiegel went\nup into the provost's sleeping chamber and asked him to come down\nonce more into the church.\n\nThere, showing him the broken pieces of saints and fowls, he said\nto him:\n\n\"Messire Provost, you did all in vain, they have eaten all the same.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" replied the provost, \"they have come up to my sleeping chamber,\nlike robbers, and taken what I had saved. Ah, master saints, I will\ncomplain to the Pope about this.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" replied Ulenspiegel, \"but the procession is the day after\nto-morrow, the workmen will presently be coming into the church: if\nthey see there all these poor mutilated saints, are you not afraid\nof being accused of iconoclasm?\"\n\n\"Ah! Master Saint Martin,\" said the provost, \"spare me the fire,\nI knew not what I did!\"\n\nThen turning to Ulenspiegel, while the timid bellringer was swinging\nto his bells:\n\n\"They could never,\" said he, \"between now and Sunday, mend Saint\nMartin. What am I to do, and what will the people say?\"\n\n\"Messire,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"we must employ an innocent\nsubterfuge. We shall glue on a beard on the face of Pompilius; it is\nalways respectable, being always melancholic; we shall dight him up\nwith the Saint's mitre, alb, amice, and great cloak; we shall enjoin\nupon him to stand well and fast on his pedestal, and the people will\ntake him for the wooden Saint Martin.\"\n\nThe provost went to Pompilius who was swaying on the ropes.\n\n\"Cease to ring,\" said he, \"and listen to me: would you earn fifteen\nducats? On Sunday, the day of the procession, you shall be Saint\nMartin. Ulenspiegel will get you up properly, and if when you are borne\nby your four men you make one movement or utter one word, I will have\nyou boiled alive in oil in the great caldron the executioner has just\nhad built on the market square.\"\n\n\"Monseigneur, I give you thanks,\" said Pompilius; \"but you know that\nI find it hard to contain my water.\"\n\n\"You must obey,\" replied the provost.\n\n\"I shall obey, Monseigneur,\" said Pompilius, very pitifully.\n\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nNext day, in bright sunshine, the procession issued forth from the\nchurch. Ulenspiegel had, as best he could, patched up the twelve saints\nthat balanced themselves on their pedestals between the banners of\nthe guilds, then came the statue of Our Lady; then the daughters of\nthe Virgin all clad in white and singing anthems; then the archers\nand crossbowmen; then the nearest to the dais and swaying more than\nthe others, Pompilius sinking under the heavy accoutrements of Master\nSaint Martin.\n\nUlenspiegel, having provided himself with itching powder, had himself\nclothed Pompilius with his episcopal costume, had put on his gloves and\ngiven him his crozier and taught him the Latin fashion of blessing the\npeople. He had also helped the priests to clothe themselves. On some\nhe put their stole, on others their amice, on the deacons the alb. He\nran hither and thither through the church, restoring the folds of\ndoublet or breeches. He admired and praised the well-furbished weapons\nof the crossbowmen, and the formidable bows of the confraternity of\nthe archers. And on everyone he poured, on ruff, on back or wrist,\na pinch of itching powder. But the dean and the four bearers of Saint\nMartin were those that got most of it. As for the daughters of the\nVirgin, he spared them for the sake of their sweetness and grace.\n\nThe procession went forth, banners in the wind, ensigns displayed,\nin goodly order. Men and women crossed themselves as they saw it\npassing. And the sun shone hot.\n\nThe dean was the first to feel the effect of the powder, and scratched\na little behind his ear. All, priests, archers, crossbowmen, were\nscratching neck, legs, wrists, without daring to do it openly. The\nfour bearers were scratching, too, but the bellringer, itching worse\nthan any, for he was more exposed to the hot sun, did not dare even\nto budge for fear of being boiled alive. Screwing up his nose, he\nmade an ugly grimace and trembled on his tottery legs, for he nearly\nfell every time his bearers scratched themselves.\n\nBut he did not dare to move, and let his water go through fear,\nand the bearers said:\n\n\"Great Saint Martin, is it going to rain now?\"\n\nThe priests were singing a hymn to Our Lady.\n\n\n    \"Si de coe ... coe ... coe ... lo descenderes\n    O sanc ... ta ... ta ... ta ... Ma ... ma ... ria.\"\n\n\nFor their voices shook because of the itching, which became excessive,\nbut they scratched themselves modestly and parsimoniously. Even so\nthe dean and the four bearers of Saint Martin had their necks and\nwrists torn to pieces. Pompilius stayed absolutely still, tottering\non his poor legs, which were itching the most.\n\nBut lo on a sudden all the crossbowmen, archers, deacons,\npriests, dean, and the bearers of Saint Martin stopped to scratch\nthemselves. The powder made the soles of Pompilius's feet itch,\nbut he dared not budge for fear of falling.\n\nAnd the curious said that Saint Martin rolled very fierce eyes and\nshowed a very threatening mien to the poor populace.\n\nThen the dean started the procession going again.\n\nSoon the hot sun that was falling straight down on all these\nprocessional backs and bellies made the effect of the powder\nintolerable.\n\nAnd then priests, archers, crossbowmen, deacons, and dean were seen,\nlike a troop of apes, stopping and scratching shamelessly wherever\nthey itched.\n\nThe daughters of the Virgin sang their hymn, and it was as the angels'\nsinging, all those fresh pure voices mounting towards the sky.\n\nAll went off wherever and however they could: the dean, still\nscratching, rescued the Holy Sacrament; the pious people carried the\nrelics into the church; Saint Martin's four bearers threw Pompilius\nroughly on the ground. There, not daring to scratch, move, or speak,\nthe poor bellringer shut his eyes devoutly.\n\nTwo lads would have carried him away, but finding him too heavy, they\nstood him upright against a wall, and there Pompilius shed big tears.\n\nThe populace assembled round about him; the women had gone to fetch\nhandkerchiefs of fine white linen and wiped his face to preserve his\ntears as relics, and said to him: \"Monseigneur, how hot you are!\"\n\nThe bellringer looked at them piteously, and in spite of himself,\nmade grimaces with his nose.\n\nBut as the tears were rolling copiously from his eyes, the women said:\n\n\"Great Saint Martin, are you weeping for the sins of the town of\nYpres? Is not that your honoured nose moving? Yet we have followed the\ncounsel of Louis Viv\u00e8s and the poor of Ypres will have wherewithal to\nwork and wherewithal to eat. Oh! the big tears! They are pearls. Our\nsalvation is here.\"\n\nThe men said:\n\n\"Must we, great Saint Martin, pull down the Ketel-straat in our\ntown? But teach us above all ways of preventing poor girls from going\nout at night and so falling into a thousand adventures.\"\n\nSuddenly the people cried out:\n\n\"Here is the beadle!\"\n\nUlenspiegel then came up, and taking Pompilius round the body, carried\nhim off on his shoulders followed by the crowd of devout men and women.\n\n\"Alas!\" said the poor ringer, whispering in his ear, \"I shall die of\nitch, my son.\"\n\n\"Keep stiff,\" answered Ulenspiegel; \"do you forget that you are a\nwooden saint?\"\n\nHe ran on at full speed and set down Pompilius before the provost\nwho was currying himself with his nails till the blood came.\n\n\"Bellringer,\" said the provost, \"have you scratched yourself like us?\"\n\n\"No, Messire,\" answered Pompilius.\n\n\"Have you spoken or moved?\"\n\n\"No, Messire,\" replied Pompilius.\n\n\"Then,\" said the provost, \"you shall have your fifteen ducats. Now\ngo and scratch yourself.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nThe next day, the people, having learned from Ulenspiegel what had\nhappened, said it was a wicked mockery to make them worship as a\nsaint a whining fellow who could not hold in his water.\n\nAnd many became heretics. And setting out with all their goods,\nthey hastened to swell the prince's army.\n\nUlenspiegel returned towards Li\u00e9ge.\n\nBeing alone in the wood he sat down and pondered. Looking at the\nbright sky, he said:\n\n\"War, always war, so that the Spanish enemy may slay the poor people,\npillage our goods, violate our wives and daughters. And all the while\nour goodly money goes, and our blood flows in rivers without profit\nto any one, except for this royal churl that would fain add another\njewel of authority to his crown. A jewel that he imagines glorious,\na jewel of blood, a jewel of smoke. Ah! if I could jewel thee as I\ndesire, there would be none but flies to desire thy company.\"\n\nAs he thought on these things he saw pass before him a whole herd of\nstags. There were some among them old and tall, with their dowcets\nstill, and proudly wearing their antlers with nine points. Graceful\nbrockets, which are their squires, trotted alongside them seeming all\nprepared to give them succour with their pointed horns. Ulenspiegel\nknew not where they were going, but judged that it was to their lair.\n\n\"Ah!\" said he, \"old stags and graceful brockets, ye are going, merry\nand proud, into the depths of the woodland to your lair, eating\nthe young shoots, snuffling up the balmy scents, happy until the\nhunter-murderer shall come. Even so with us, old stags and brockets!\"\n\nAnd the ashes of Claes beat upon Ulenspiegel's breast.\n\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nIn September, when the gnats cease from biting, the Silent One, with\nsix field guns and four great cannon to talk for him, and fourteen\nthousand Flemings, Walloons, and Germans, crossed the Rhine at\nSaint Vyt.\n\nUnder the yellow-and-red ensigns of the knotty staff of Burgundy, a\nstaff that bruised our countries for long, the rod of the beginning of\nservitude that Alba wielded, the bloody duke, there marched twenty-six\nthousand five hundred men, and rumbled along seventeen field pieces\nand nine big guns.\n\nBut the Silent One was not to have any good success in this war,\nfor Alba continually refused battle.\n\nAnd his brother Ludwig, the Bayard of Flanders, after many cities\nwon, and many ships held to ransom on the Rhine, lost at Jemmingen\nin Frisia to the duke's son sixteen guns, fifteen hundred horses,\nand twenty ensigns, all through certain cowardly mercenary troops,\nwho demanded money when it was the hour of battle.\n\nAnd through ruin, blood, and tears, Ulenspiegel vainly sought the\nsalvation of the land of our fathers.\n\nAnd the executioners throughout the countries were hanging, beheading,\nburning the poor innocent victims.\n\nAnd the king was inheriting.\n\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nGoing through the Walloon country, Ulenspiegel saw that the prince\nhad no succour to hope for thence, and so he came up to the town\nof Bouillon.\n\nLittle by little he saw appearing on the road more and more hunchbacks\nof every age, sex, and condition. All of them, equipped with large\nrosaries, were devoutly telling their beads on them.\n\nAnd their prayers were as the croakings of frogs in a pond at night\nwhen the weather is warm.\n\nThere were hunchback mothers carrying hunchback children, whilst\nother children of the same brood clung to their skirts. And there were\nhunchbacks on the hills and hunchbacks in the plains. And everywhere\nUlenspiegel saw their thin silhouettes standing out against the\nclear sky.\n\nHe went to one and said to him:\n\n\"Whither go all these poor men, women, and children?\"\n\nThe man replied:\n\n\"We are going to the tomb of Master Saint Remacle to pray him that\nhe will grant what our hearts desire, by taking from off our backs\nhis lump of humiliation.\"\n\nUlenspiegel rejoined:\n\n\"Could Master Saint Remacle give me also what my heart desireth,\nby taking from off the back of the poor communes the bloody duke,\nwho weighs upon them like a leaden hump?\"\n\n\"He hath not charge to remove humps of penance,\" replied the pilgrim.\n\n\"Did he remove others?\" asked Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Aye, when the humps are young. If then the miracle of healing takes\nplace, we hold revel and feasting throughout all the town. And every\npilgrim gives a piece of silver, and oftentimes a gold florin to the\nhappy one that is cured, becomes a saint thereby and with power to\npray with efficacy for the others.\"\n\nUlenspiegel said:\n\n\"Why doeth the wealthy Master Saint Remacle, like a rascal apothecary,\nmake folk pay for his cures?\"\n\n\"Impious tramp, he punishes blasphemers!\" replied the pilgrim,\nshaking his hump in fury.\n\n\"Alas!\" groaned Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd he fell doubled up at the foot of a tree.\n\nThe pilgrim, looking down on him, said:\n\n\"Master Saint Remacle smites hard when he smites.\"\n\nUlenspiegel bent up his back, and scratching at it, whined:\n\n\"Glorious saint, take pity. It is chastisement. I feel between my\nshoulder bones a bitter agony. Alas! O! O! Pardon, Master Saint\nRemacle. Go, pilgrim, go, leave me here alone, like a parricide,\nto weep and to repent.\"\n\nBut the pilgrim had fled away as far as the Great Square of Bouillon,\nwhere all the hunchbacks were gathered.\n\nThere, shivering with fear, he told them, speaking brokenly:\n\n\"Met a pilgrim as straight as a poplar ... a blaspheming pilgrim\n... hump on his back ... a burning hump!\"\n\nThe pilgrims, hearing this, they gave vent to a thousand joyful\noutcries, saying:\n\n\"Master Saint Remacle, if you give humps, you can take them away. Take\naway our humps, Master Saint Remacle!\"\n\nMeanwhile, Ulenspiegel left his tree. Passing through the empty suburb,\nhe saw, at the low door of a tavern, two bladders swinging from a\nstick, pigs' bladders, hung up in this fashion as a sign of a fair\nof black puddings, panch kermis as they say in the country of Brabant.\n\nUlenspiegel took one of the two bladders, picked up from the ground\nthe backbone of a schol, which the French call dried plaice, drew\nblood from himself, made some blood run into the bladder, blew it\nup, sealed it, put it on his back, and on it placed the backbone of\nthe schol. Thus equipped, with his back arched, his head wagging,\nand his legs tottering like an old humpback, he came out on the square.\n\nThe pilgrim that had witnessed his fall saw him and cried out:\n\n\"Here is the blasphemer!\"\n\nAnd pointed to him with his finger. And all ran to see the afflicted\none.\n\nUlenspiegel nodded his head piteously.\n\n\"Ah!\" said he, \"I deserve neither grace nor pity; slay me like a\nmad dog.\"\n\nAnd the humpbacks, rubbing their hands, said:\n\n\"One more in our fraternity.\"\n\nUlenspiegel, muttering between his teeth: \"I will make you pay for\nthat, evil ones,\" appeared to endure all patiently, and said:\n\n\"I will neither eat nor drink, even to fortify my hump, until Master\nSaint Remacle has deigned to heal me even as he has smitten me.\"\n\nAt the rumour of the miracle the dean came out of the church. He was\na tall man, portly and majestic. Nose in wind, he clove the sea of\nthe hunchbacks like a ship.\n\nThey pointed out Ulenspiegel; he said to him:\n\n\"Is it thou, good fellow, that the scourge of Saint Remacle has\nsmitten?\"\n\n\"Yea, Messire Dean,\" replied Ulenspiegel, \"it is indeed I his humble\nworshipper who would fain be cured of his new hump, if it please him.\"\n\nThe dean, smelling some trick under this speech:\n\n\"Let me,\" said he, \"feel this hump.\"\n\n\"Feel it, Messire,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd having done so, the dean:\n\n\"It is,\" said he, \"of recent date and wet. I hope, however, that\nMaster Saint Remacle will be pleased to act pitifully. Follow me.\"\n\nUlenspiegel followed the dean and went into the church. The humpbacks,\nwalking behind him, cried out: \"Behold the accursed! Behold the\nblasphemer! What doth it weigh, thy fresh hump? Wilt thou make a bag\nof it to put thy patacoons in? Thou didst mock at us all thy life\nbecause thou wast straight: now it is our turn. Glory be to Master\nSaint Remacle!\"\n\nUlenspiegel, without uttering a word, bending his head, still\nfollowing the dean, went into a little chapel where there was a tomb\nall marble covered with a great flat slab also of marble. Between\nthe tomb and the chapel wall there was not the space of the span of\na large hand. A crowd of humpbacked pilgrims, following one another\nin single file, passed between the wall and the slab of the tomb,\non which they rubbed their humps in silence. And thus they hoped to\nbe delivered. And those that were rubbing their humps were loath to\ngive place to those that had not yet rubbed theirs, and they fought\ntogether, but without any noise, only daring to strike sly blows,\nhumpbacks' blows, because of the holiness of the place.\n\nThe dean bade Ulenspiegel get up on the flat top of the tomb,\nthat all the pilgrims might see him plainly. Ulenspiegel replied:\n\"I cannot get up by myself.\"\n\nThe dean helped him up and stationed himself beside him, bidding\nhim kneel down. Ulenspiegel did so and remained in this posture,\nwith head hanging.\n\nThe dean then, having meditated, preached and said in a sonorous voice:\n\n\"Sons and brothers of Jesus Christ, ye see at my feet the greatest\nchild of impiety, vagabond, and blasphemer that Saint Remacle hath\never smitten with his anger.\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel, beating upon his breast, said: \"Confiteor.\"\n\n\"Once,\" went on the dean, \"he was straight as a halberd shaft, and\ngloried in it. See him now, humpbacked and bowed under the stroke of\nthe celestial curse.\"\n\n\"Confiteor, take away my hump,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Yea,\" went on the dean, \"yea, mighty saint, Master Saint Remacle,\nwho since thy glorious death hast performed nine and thirty miracles,\ntake away from his shoulders the weight that loads them down. And may\nwe, for this boon, sing thy praises from everlasting to everlasting,\nin saecula saeculorum. And peace on earth to humpbacks of good will.\"\n\nAnd the humpbacks said in chorus:\n\n\"Yea, yea, peace on earth to humpbacks of good will: humpbacks' peace,\ntruce to the deformed, amnesty of humiliation. Take away our humps,\nMaster Saint Remacle!\"\n\nThe dean bade Ulenspiegel descend from the tomb, and rub his hump\nagainst the edge of the slab. Ulenspiegel did so, ever repeating:\n\"Mea culpa, confiteor, take away my hump.\" And he rubbed it thoroughly\nin sight and knowledge of those that stood by.\n\nAnd these cried aloud:\n\n\"Do ye see the hump? it bends! see you, it gives way! it will melt away\non the right\"--\"No, it will go back into the breast; humps do not melt,\nthey go down again into the intestines from which they come\"--\"No,\nthey return into the stomach where they serve as nourishment for\neighty days\"--\"It is the saint's gift to humpbacks that are rid of\nthem\"--\"Where do the old humps go?\"\n\nSuddenly all the humpbacks gave a loud cry, for Ulenspiegel had just\nburst his hump leaning hard against the edge of the flat tomb top. All\nthe blood that was in it fell, dripping from his doublet in big drops\nupon the stone flags. And he cried out, straightening himself up and\nstretching out his arms:\n\n\"I am rid of it!\"\n\nAnd all the humpbacks began to call out together:\n\n\"Master Saint Remacle the blessed, it is kind to him, but hard to\nus\"--\"Master, take away our humps, ours too!\"--\"I, I will give\nthee a calf.\"--\"I, seven sheep.\"--\"I, the year's hunting.\"--\"I,\nsix hams.\"--\"I, I will give my cottage to the Church\"--\"Take away\nour humps, Master Saint Remacle!\"\n\nAnd they looked on Ulenspiegel with envy and with respect. One would\nhave felt under his doublet, but the dean said to him:\n\n\"There is a wound that may not see the light.\"\n\n\"I will pray for you,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Aye, Pilgrim,\" said the humpbacks, speaking all together, \"aye,\nmaster, thou that hast been made straight again, we made a mock of\nthee; forgive it us, we knew not what we did. Monseigneur Christ\nforgave when on the cross; give us all forgiveness.\"\n\n\"I will forgive,\" said Ulenspiegel benevolently.\n\n\"Then,\" said they, \"take this patard, accept this florin, permit us\nto give this real to Your Straightness, to offer him this cruzado,\nput these carolus in his hands....\"\n\n\"Hide up your carolus,\" said Ulenspiegel, whispering, \"let not your\nleft hand know what your right hand is giving.\"\n\nAnd this he said because of the dean who was devouring with his eyes\nthe humpbacks' money, without seeing whether it was gold or silver.\n\n\"Thanks be unto thee, sanctified sir,\" said the humpbacks to\nUlenspiegel.\n\nAnd he accepted their gifts proudly as a man of a miracle.\n\nBut greedy ones were rubbing away with their humps on the tomb without\nsaying a word.\n\nUlenspiegel went at night to a tavern where he held revel and feast.\n\nBefore going to bed, thinking that the dean would want to have his\nshare of the booty, if not all, he counted up his gain, and found more\ngold than silver, for he had in it fully three hundred carolus. He\nnoted a withered bay tree in a pot, took it by the hair of its head,\nplucked up the plant and the earth, and put the gold underneath. All\nthe demi-florins, patards, and patacoons were spread out upon the\ntable.\n\nThe dean came to the tavern and went up to Ulenspiegel.\n\nThe latter, seeing him:\n\n\"Messire Dean,\" said he, \"what would you of my poor self?\"\n\n\"Nothing but thy good, my son,\" replied he.\n\n\"Alas!\" groaned Ulenspiegel, \"is it that which you see on the table?\"\n\n\"The same,\" replied the dean.\n\nThen putting out his hand, he swept the table clean of all the money\nthat was upon it and dropped it into a bag destined for it.\n\nAnd he gave a florin to Ulenspiegel, who pretended to groan and whine.\n\nAnd he asked for the implements of the miracle.\n\nUlenspiegel showed him the schol bone and the bladder.\n\nThe dean took them while Ulenspiegel bemoaned himself, imploring him\nto be good enough to give him more, saying that the way was long from\nBouillon to Damme, for him a poor footpassenger, and that beyond a\ndoubt he would die of hunger.\n\nThe dean went away without uttering a word.\n\nBeing left alone, Ulenspiegel went to sleep with his eye on the bay\ntree. Next day at dawn, having picked up his booty, he went away\nfrom Bouillon and went to the camp of the Silent One, handed over the\nmoney to him and recounted the story, saying it was the true method\nof levying contributions of war from the enemy.\n\nAnd the Prince gave him ten florins.\n\nAs for the schol bone, it was enshrined in a crystal casket and placed\nbetween the arms of the cross on the principal altar at Bouillon.\n\nAnd everyone in the town knows that what the cross encloses is the\nhump of the blasphemer who was made straight.\n\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nThe Silent One, being in the neighbourhood of Li\u00e9ge, made marches\nand countermarches before crossing the Meuse, thus misleading the\nduke's vigilance.\n\nUlenspiegel, schooling himself to his duties as a soldier, became\nvery dexterous in handling the wheel-locked arquebus and kept his\neyes and ears well open.\n\nAt this time there came to the camp Flemish and Brabant nobles,\nwho lived on good terms with the lords, colonels, and captains in\nthe following of the Silent One.\n\nSoon two parties formed in the camp, eternally quarrelling and\ndisputing, the one side saying: \"the Prince is a traitor,\" the other\nanswering that the accusers lied in their throat and that they would\nmake them swallow their lie. Distrust spread and grew like a spot of\noil. They came to blows in groups of six, of eight, or a dozen men;\nfighting with every weapon of single combat, even with arquebuses.\n\nOne day the prince came up at the noise, marching between two\nparties. A bullet carried away his sword from his side. He put an end\nto the combat and visited the whole camp to show himself, that it might\nnot be said: \"The Silent One is dead, and the war is dead with him.\"\n\nThe next day, towards midnight, in misty weather, Ulenspiegel being\non the point of coming out from a house where he had been to sing a\nFlemish love song to a Walloon girl, heard at the door of the cottage\nbeside the house a raven's croak thrice repeated. Other croakings\nanswered from a distance, thrice by thrice. A country churl came to\nthe door of the cottage. Ulenspiegel heard footsteps on the highway.\n\nTwo men, speaking Spanish, came to the rustic, who said to them in\nthe same tongue:\n\n\"What have you done?\"\n\n\"A good piece of work,\" said they, \"lying for the king. Thanks to us,\ncaptains and soldiermen say to one another in distrust:\n\n\"'It is through vile ambition that the prince is resisting the king; he\nis but waiting to be feared by him and to receive cities and lordships\nas a pledge of peace; for five hundred thousand florins he will abandon\nthe valiant lords that are fighting for the countries. The duke has\noffered him a full amnesty with a promise and an oath to restore\nto their estates himself and all the highest leaders of the army,\nif they would re-enter into obedience to the king. Orange means to\ntreat with him alone by himself.'\n\n\"The partisans of the Silent One answered us:\n\n\"'The duke's offer is a treacherous trap. He will pay them no heed,\nrecalling the fate of Messieurs d'Egmont and de Hoorn. Well they know\nit, Cardinal de Granvelle, being at Rome, said at the time of the\ncapture of the Counts: \"They take the two gudgeons, but they leave\nthe pike; they have taken nothing since the Silent remains still\nto take.\"'\"\n\n\"Is the variance great in the camp?\" said the rustic.\n\n\"Great is the variance,\" said they: \"greater every day. Where are\nthe letters?\"\n\nThey went into the cottage, where a lantern was lighted. There, peeping\nthrough a little skylight, Ulenspiegel saw them open two missives,\nread them with much satisfaction and pleasure, drink hydromel, and\nat last depart, saying to the rustic in Spanish:\n\n\"Camp divided, Orange taken. That will be a good lemonade.\"\n\n\"Those fellows,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"cannot be allowed to live.\"\n\nThey went out into the thick mist. Ulenspiegel saw the rustic bring\nthem a lantern, which they took with them.\n\nThe light of the lantern being often intercepted by a black shape,\nhe took it that they were walking one behind the other.\n\nHe primed his arquebus and fired at the black shape. He then saw\nthe lantern lowered and raised several times, and judged that, one\nof the two being down, the other was endeavouring to see the nature\nof his wound. He primed his arquebus again. Then the lantern going\nforward alone, swiftly and swinging and in the direction of the camp,\nhe fired once more. The lantern staggered about, then fell, and there\nwas darkness.\n\nRunning towards the camp, he saw the provost coming out with a crowd\nof soldiers awakened by the noise of the shots. Ulenspiegel, accosting\nthem, said:\n\n\"I am the hunter, go and pick up the game.\"\n\n\"Jolly Fleming,\" said the provost, \"you speak otherwise than with\nyour tongue.\"\n\n\"Tongue talk, 'tis wind,\" replied Ulenspiegel. \"Lead talk remains in\nthe bodies of the traitors. But follow me.\"\n\nHe brought them, furnished with their lanterns, to the place where\nthe two were fallen. And they beheld them indeed, stretched out on\nthe earth, one dead, the other in the death rattle and holding his\nhand on his breast, where there was a letter crushed and crumpled in\nthe last effort of his life.\n\nThey carried away the bodies, which they recognized by their garments\nas bodies of nobles, and thus came with their lanterns to the prince,\ninterrupted at council with Frederic of Hollenhausen, the Markgrave\nof Hesse, and other lords.\n\nFollowed by landsknechts, reiters, green jackets and yellow jackets,\nthey came before the tent of the Silent, shouting requests that he\nwould receive them.\n\nHe came from the tent. Then, taking the word from the provost who\nwas coughing and preparing to accuse him, Ulenspiegel said:\n\n\"Monseigneur, I have killed two traitor nobles of your train, instead\nof ravens.\"\n\nThen he recounted what he had seen, heard, and done.\n\nThe Silent said not a word. The two bodies were searched, there\nbeing present himself, William of Orange, the Silent, Frederic de\nHollenhausen, the Markgrave of Hesse, Dieterich de Schooenbergh,\nCount Albert of Nassau, the Count de Hoogstraeten, Antoine de Lalaing,\nthe Governor of Malines; the troopers, and Lamme Goedzak trembling\nin his great paunch. Sealed letters from Granvelle and Noircarmes\nwere found upon the gentlemen, enjoining upon them to sow dissension\nin the prince's train, in order to diminish his strength by so much,\nto force him to yield, and to deliver him to the duke to be beheaded\nin accordance with his deserts. \"It was essential,\" said the letters,\n\"to proceed subtly and by veiled speech, so that the people in the army\nmight believe that the Silent had already, for his own personal profit,\ncome to a private agreement with the duke. His captains and soldiers,\nbeing angry, would make him a prisoner. For reward a draft on the\nF\u00fcggers of Antwerp for five hundred ducats had been sent to each;\nthey should have a thousand as soon as the four hundred thousand\nducats that were expected should have arrived in Zealand from Spain.\"\n\nThis plot being discovered and laid open, the prince, without a word,\nturned towards the nobles, lords, and soldiers, among whom were\na great many that held him in suspicion; he showed the two corpses\nwithout a word, intending thereby to reproach them for their mistrust\nof him. All shouted with a great tumultuous noise:\n\n\"Long life to Orange! Orange is faithful to the countries!\"\n\nThey would, for contumely, fain have flung the bodies to the dogs,\nbut the Silent:\n\n\"It is not bodies that must be thrown to the dogs, but feeblemindedness\nthat bringeth about doubts of singleminded and good intents.\"\n\nAnd lords and soldiers shouted:\n\n\"Long live the prince! Long live Orange, the friend to the countries!\"\n\nAnd their voices were as a thunder threatening injustice.\n\nAnd the prince, pointing to the bodies:\n\n\"Give them Christian interment,\" said he.\n\n\"And I,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"what is to be done with my faithful\ncarcase? If I have done ill let them give me blows; if I have done\nwell let them accord me reward.\"\n\nThen the Silent One spake and said:\n\n\"This musketeer shall have fifty blows with green wood in my\npresence for having, without orders, slain two nobles, to the great\ndisparagement of all discipline. He shall receive as well thirty\nflorins for having seen well and heard well.\"\n\n\"Monseigneur,\" replied Ulenspiegel, \"if they gave me the thirty florins\nfirst, I would endure the blows from the green wood with patience.\"\n\n\"Aye, aye,\" groaned Lamme Goedzak, \"give him first of all the thirty\nflorins; he will endure the rest with patience.\"\n\n\"And then,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"having my soul free of guilt, I have\nno need to be washed with oak or rinsed with cornel.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" groaned Lamme Goedzak as before, \"Ulenspiegel hath no need\nof washing or of rinsing. He hath a clean soul. Do not wash him,\nMessires, do not wash him.\"\n\nUlenspiegel having received the thirty florins, the stock-meester\nwas ordered by the provost to seize him.\n\n\"See, Messires,\" said Lamme, \"how piteous he looks. He hath no love\nfor the wood, my friend Ulenspiegel.\"\n\n\"I love,\" replied Ulenspiegel, \"to see a lovely ash all leafy,\ngrowing in the sunshine in all it's native verdure; but I hate to the\ndeath those ugly sticks of wood still bleeding their sap, stripped\nof branches, without leaves or twigs, of fierce aspect and harsh\nof acquaintance.\"\n\n\"Art thou ready?\" asked the provost.\n\n\"Ready,\" repeated Ulenspiegel, \"ready for what? To be beaten. No,\nI am not, and have no desire to be, master stock-meester. Your beard\nis red and you have a formidable air; but I am fully persuaded that\nyou have a kind heart and do not love to maltreat a poor fellow\nlike me. I must tell it you, I love not to do it or see it; for a\nChristian man's back is a sacred temple which, even as his breast,\nencloseth the lungs wherewith we breathe the air of the good God. With\nwhat poignant remorse would you be gnawed if a brutal stroke of the\nstick were to break me in pieces.\"\n\n\"Make haste,\" said the stock-meester.\n\n\"Monseigneur,\" said Ulenspiegel, speaking to the Prince, \"nothing\npresses, believe me; first should this stick be dried and seasoned,\nfor they say that green wood entering living flesh imparts to it\na deadly venom. Would Your Highness wish to see me die of this foul\ndeath? Monseigneur, I hold my faithful back at Your Highness' service;\nhave it beaten with rods, lashed with the whip; but, if you would\nnot see me dead, spare me, if it please you, the green wood.\"\n\n\"Prince, give him grace,\" said Messire de Hoogstraeten and Dieterich\nde Schooenbergh. The others smiled pityingly.\n\nLamme also said:\n\n\"Monseigneur, Monseigneur, show grace; green wood it is pure poison.\"\n\nThe Prince then said: \"I pardon him.\"\n\nUlenspiegel, leaping several times high in air, struck on Lamme's\nbelly and forced him to dance, saying:\n\n\"Praise Monseigneur with me, who saved me from the green wood.\"\n\nAnd Lamme tried to dance, but could not, because of his belly.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel treated him to both eating and drinking.\n\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nNot wishing to give battle, the duke without truce or respite harried\nthe Silent as he wandered about the flat land between Juliers and\nthe Meuse, everywhere sounding the river at Hondt, Mechelen, Elsen,\nMeersen, and everywhere finding it filled with traps and caltrops to\nwound men and horses that sought to pass over by fording.\n\nAt Stockem, the sounders found none of these engines. The prince\ngave orders for crossing. The reiters went over the Meuse and held\nthemselves in battle order on the other bank, so as to protect the\ncrossing on the side of the bishopric of Li\u00e9ge; then there formed up\nin line from one bank to the other, in this way breaking the current\nof the river, ten ranks of archers and musketeers, among whom was\nUlenspiegel.\n\nHe had water up to his thighs, and often some treacherous wave would\nlift him up, himself and his horse.\n\nHe saw the foot soldiers cross, carrying a powder bag upon their\nheadgear and holding their muskets high in air: then came the wagons,\nthe hackbuts, linstocks, culverins, double culverins, falcons,\nfalconets, serpentines, demi-serpentines, double serpentines,\nmortars, double mortars, cannon, demi-cannon, double cannon, sacres,\nlittle field pieces mounted on carriages drawn by two horses, able\nto manoeuvre at the gallop and in every way like those that were\nnicknamed the Emperor's Pistols; behind them, protecting the rear,\nlandsknechts and reiters from Flanders.\n\nUlenspiegel looked about to find some warming drink. The archer\nRiesencraft, a High German, a lean, cruel, gigantic fellow, was snoring\non his charger beside him, and as he breathed he spread abroad the\nperfume of brandy. Ulenspiegel, spying for a flask on his horse's\ncrupper, found it hung behind on a cord like a baldric, which he cut,\nand he took the flask, and drank rejoicing. The archer companions\nsaid to him:\n\n\"Give us some.\"\n\nHe did so. The brandy being drunk, he knotted the cord that held the\nflask, and would have put it back about the soldier's breast. As he\nlifted his arm to pass it round, Riesencraft awoke. Taking the flask,\nhe would have milked his cow as usual. Finding that it gave no more\nmilk, he fell into mighty anger.\n\n\"Robber,\" said he, \"what have you done with my brandy?\"\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"Drunk it. Among soaking horsemen, one man's brandy is everybody's\nbrandy. Evil is the scurvy stingy one.\"\n\n\"To-morrow I will carve your carcase in the lists,\" replied\nRiesencraft.\n\n\"We will carve each other,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"heads, arms, legs,\nand all. But are you not constipated, that you have such a sour face?\"\n\n\"I am,\" said Riesencraft.\n\n\"You want a purge, then,\" replied Ulenspiegel, \"and not a duel.\"\n\nIt was agreed between them that they should meet next day, mounted\nand accoutred each as he pleased, and should cut up each other's\nbacon with a short stiff sword.\n\nUlenspiegel asked that for himself the sword might be replaced by a\ncudgel, which was granted him.\n\nIn the meanwhile, all the soldiers having crossed the river and\nfalling into order at the voice of the colonels and the captains,\nthe ten ranks of archers also crossed over.\n\nAnd the Silent said:\n\n\"Let us march on Li\u00e9ge!\"\n\nUlenspiegel was glad of this, and with all the Flemings, shouted out:\n\n\"Long life to Orange, let us march on Li\u00e9ge!\"\n\nBut the foreigners, and notably the High Germans, said they were too\nmuch washed and rinsed to march. Vainly did the prince assure them\nthat they were going to a certain victory, to a friendly city; they\nwould listen to nothing, but lit great fires and warmed themselves\nin front of them, with their horses unharnessed.\n\nThe attack on the city was put off till next day when Alba, greatly\nastonished at the bold crossing, learned through his spies that the\nSilent One's soldiers were not yet ready for the assault.\n\nThereupon, he threatened Li\u00e9ge and all the country round about to\nput them to fire and sword, if the prince's friends made any movement\nthere. Gerard de Groesbeke, the bishop's catchpoll, armed his troopers\nagainst the prince, who arrived too late, through the fault of the\nHigh Germans, who were afraid of a little water in their stockings.\n\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nUlenspiegel and Riesencraft having taken seconds, the latter said\nthat the two soldiers were to fight on foot to the death, if the\nconqueror wished, for such were Riesencraft's conditions.\n\nThe scene of the conflict was a little heath.\n\nEarly in the morning, Riesencraft donned his archer's array. He put\non his salade with the throat piece, without visor, and a mail shirt\nwith no sleeves. His other shirt being fallen into pieces, he put it\nin his salade to make lint of it if need was. He armed himself with\nan arbalest of good Ardennes wood, a sheaf of thirty quarrels, with\na long dagger, but not with a two-handed sword, which is the archer's\nsword. And he came to the field of battle mounted upon his charger,\ncarrying his war saddle and the plumed chamfron, and all barded\nwith iron.\n\nUlenspiegel made up for himself an armament for a nobleman; his\ncharger was a donkey; his saddle was the petticoat of a gay wench,\nhis plumed chamfron was of osier, adorned above with goodly fluttering\nshavings. His barde was bacon, for, said he, iron costs too much,\nsteel is beyond price, and as for brass in these later days, they\nhave made so many cannon out of it that there is not enough left to\narm a rabbit for battle. He donned for headgear a fine salade that\nhad not yet been devoured by the snails; this salade was surmounted\nby a swan's feather, to make him sing if he was killed.\n\nHis sword, stiff and light, was a good long, stout cudgel of pinewood,\nat the end of which there was a besom of branches of the same tree. On\nthe left hand of his saddle hung his knife, which was of wood likewise;\non the right swung his good mace, which was of elderwood, surmounted\nwith a turnip. His cuirass was all holes and flaws.\n\nWhen he arrived in this array, at the field of the duel, Riesencraft's\nseconds burst out laughing, but he himself remained unbending from\nhis sour face.\n\nUlenspiegel's seconds then demanded of Riesencraft's that the\nGerman should lay aside his armour of mail and iron, seeing that\nUlenspiegel was armed only in rags and pieces. To which Riesencraft\ngave consent. Riesencraft's seconds then asked Ulenspiegel's how it\ncame that Ulenspiegel was armed with a besom.\n\n\"You granted me the stick, but you did not forbid me to enliven it\nwith foliage.\"\n\n\"Do as you think fit,\" said the four seconds.\n\nRiesencraft said never a word and cropped down with little strokes\nof his sword the thin stalks of the heather.\n\nThe seconds requested him to replace his sword with a besom, the same\nas Ulenspiegel.\n\nHe replied:\n\n\"If this rascal of his own accord chose a weapon so out of the way,\nit is because he imagines he can defend his life with it.\"\n\nUlenspiegel saying again that he would use his besom, the four seconds\nagreed that everything was in order.\n\nThey were set facing each other, Riesencraft on his horse barded with\niron, Ulenspiegel on his donkey barded with bacon.\n\nUlenspiegel came forward into the middle of the field of combat. There,\nholding his besom like a lance:\n\n\"I deem,\" said he, \"fouler and more stinking than plague, leprosy,\nand death, this vermin brood of ill fellows who, in a camp of old\nsoldiers and boon companions, have no other thought than to carry\nround everywhere their scowling faces and their mouths foaming\nwith anger. Wherever they may be, laughter dares not show itself,\nand songs are silent. They must be forever growling and fighting,\nintroducing thus alongside of legitimate combat for the fatherland\nsingle combat which is the ruin of an army and the delight of the\nenemy. Riesencraft here present hath slain for mere innocent words\none and twenty men, without ever performing in battle or skirmish\nany act of distinguished bravery or deserved the least reward by his\ncourage. Now it is my pleasure to-day to brush the bare hide of this\ncrabbed dog the wrong way.\"\n\nRiesencraft replied:\n\n\"This drunkard has had tall dreams of the abuse of single combats:\nit will be my pleasure to-day to split his head, to show everybody\nthat he has nothing but hay in his brain-box.\"\n\nThe seconds made them get down from their mounts. In so doing\nUlenspiegel dropped from his head the salad which the ass ate\nquietly and slyly; but the donkey was interrupted in this job by\na kick from one of the seconds to make him get out of the duelling\nenclosure. The same treatment fell to the lot of the horse. And they\nwent off elsewhere to graze in company.\n\nThen the seconds, carrying broom--these were Ulenspiegel's pair,\nand the others, carrying sword--they were Riesencraft's, gave the\nsignal for the fray with a whistle.\n\nAnd Riesencraft and Ulenspiegel fell to fighting furiously,\nRiesencraft smiting with his sword, Ulenspiegel parrying with his\nbesom; Riesencraft swearing by all devils, Ulenspiegel fleeing before\nhim, wandering through the heather obliquely and circling, zigzagging,\nthrusting out his tongue, making a thousand other faces at Riesencraft,\nwho was losing his breath and beating the air with his sword like\na mad trooper. Ulenspiegel felt him close, turned sharp and sudden,\nand gave him a great whack under the nose with his besom. Riesencraft\nfell down with arms and legs stretched out like a dying frog.\n\nUlenspiegel flung himself upon him, besomed his face up and down and\nevery way, pitilessly, saying:\n\n\"Cry for mercy or I make you swallow my besom!\"\n\nAnd he rubbed and scrubbed him without ceasing, to the great pleasure\nand joy of the spectators, and still said:\n\n\"Cry for mercy or I make you eat it!\"\n\nBut Riesencraft could not cry, for he was dead of black rage.\n\n\"God have thy soul, poor madman!\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd he went away, plunged in melancholy.\n\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\nIt was then the end of October. The prince lacked money; his army was\nhungry. The soldiers were murmuring; he marched in the direction of\nFrance and offered battle to the duke, who declined it.\n\nLeaving Quesnoy-le-Comte to go towards Cambr\u00e9sis, he met ten companies\nof Germans, eight ensigns of Spaniards, and three cornets of light\nhorse, commanded by Don Ruffele Henricis, the duke's son, who was in\nthe middle of the line, and cried in Spanish:\n\n\"Kill! Kill! No quarter. Long live the Pope!\"\n\nDon Henricis was then over against the company of musketeers in which\nUlenspiegel was dizenier, in command of ten men, and hurled himself\nupon them with his men. Ulenspiegel said to the sergeant of his troop:\n\n\"I am going to cut the tongue out of this ruffian!\"\n\n\"Cut away,\" said the sergeant.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel, with a well-aimed bullet, smashed the tongue and\nthe jaw of Don Ruffele Henricis, the duke's son.\n\nUlenspiegel brought down from his horse the son of Marquis Delmar\u00e8s\nalso.\n\nThe eight ensigns, the three cornets were beaten.\n\nAfter this victory, Ulenspiegel sought for Lamme in the camp, but\nfound him not.\n\n\"Alas!\" said he, \"there he is, gone, my friend Lamme, my big friend. In\nhis warlike ardour, forgetting the weight of his belly, he must have\npursued the flying Spaniards. Out of breath he will have fallen like\na sack upon the road. And they will have picked him up to have ransom\nfor him, a ransom for Christian bacon. My friend Lamme, where art\nthou then, where art thou, my fat friend?\"\n\nUlenspiegel sought him everywhere, and finding him not fell into\nmelancholy.\n\n\n\n\n\nXV\n\nIn November, the month of snow storms, the Silent sent for Ulenspiegel\nto come before him. The prince was biting at the cord of his mail\nshirt.\n\n\"Hearken and understand,\" said he.\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"My ears are prison doors; to enter is easy, but it is a hard business\nto get anything out.\"\n\nThe Silent said:\n\n\"Go through Namur, Flanders, Hainaut, Sud-Brabant, Antwerp,\nNord-Brabant, Guelder, Overyssel, Nord-Holland, announcing everywhere\nthat if fortune betrays our holy and Christian cause by land,\nthe struggle against every unjust violence will continue on the\nsea. May God direct this matter with all grace, whether in good or\nevil fortune. Once come to Amsterdam, you shall give account to Paul\nBuys, my trusty friend, of all you have done and performed. Here are\nthree passes, signed by Alba himself, and found upon the bodies at\nQuesnoy-le-Comte. My secretary has filled them. Perchance you will find\non the way some good comrade in whom you may be able to trust. Those\nare good folk who to the lark's note answer with the warlike bugle\nof the cock. Here are fifty florins. You will be valiant and faithful.\"\n\n\"The ashes beat upon my heart,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd he went away.\n\n\n\n\n\nXVI\n\nHe had, under the hand of the king and the duke, license to carry all\nweapons at his own convenience. He took his good wheel-lock arquebus,\ncartridges, and dry powder. Then clad in a ragged short cloak, a\ntattered doublet, and breeches full of holes in the Spanish fashion,\nwearing a bonnet with plume flying in the wind, and sword, he left\nthe army near the French frontier and marched off towards Maestricht.\n\nThe wrens, those heralds of the cold, flew about the houses, asking\nshelter. The third day it snowed.\n\nMany times and oft on the way Ulenspiegel must needs show his safe\nconduct. He was allowed to pass. He marched towards Li\u00e9ge.\n\nHe had just entered into a plain; a great wind drove whirls of flakes\nupon his face. Before him he saw the plain stretch out all white,\nand the eddies of snow driven hither and thither by the gusts. Three\nwolves followed him, but when he knocked one over with his musket,\nthe others flung themselves on the wounded one and made off into the\nwoods, each carrying a great piece of the corpse.\n\nUlenspiegel being thus delivered, and looking to see if there was\nno other band in the country, saw at the end of the plain specks\nas it were gray statues moving among the eddies, and behind them\nshapes of mounted soldiers. He climbed up into a tree. The wind\nbrought a far-off noise of complaining: \"These are perchance,\" he\nsaid to himself, \"pilgrims clad in white coats; I can scarcely see\ntheir bodies against the snow.\" Then he distinguished men running\nnaked and saw two reiters, harnessed all in black, who sitting on\ntheir chargers were driving this poor flock before them with great\nblows of their whips. He primed his musket. Among these wretches\nhe saw young folk, old men naked with teeth chattering, frozen,\nhuddled up, and running to escape the whips of the two troopers,\nwho took a delight, being well clad, red with brandy and good food,\nin lashing the bodies of the naked men to make them run quicker.\n\nUlenspiegel said: \"Ye shall have vengeance, ashes of Claes.\" And\nhe killed, with a bullet in the face, one of the reiters, who fell\ndown from his horse. The other, not knowing from whence had come that\nunlooked-for bullet, took fright. Thinking there were enemies hidden\nin the wood, he would fain have fled with his comrade's horse. While\nhe dismounted to despoil the dead man, and had taken hold of the\nbridle, he was stricken with another bullet in the neck and fell,\nlike his companion.\n\nThe naked men, believing that an angel from heaven, a good arquebusier,\nhad come to their rescue, fell upon their knees. Ulenspiegel came\ndown from his tree and was recognized by those in the band who had,\nlike him, served in the prince's army. They said to him:\n\n\"Ulenspiegel, we are of the land of France, sent in state to Maestricht\nwhere the duke is, there to be treated as rebel prisoners, unable\nto pay ransom and condemned in advance to be tortured, beheaded,\nor to row like ruffians and robbers on the king's galleys.\"\n\nUlenspiegel, giving his opperst kleed to the oldest of the band,\nreplied:\n\n\"Come, I will fetch you as far as M\u00e9zi\u00e8res, but first of all we must\nstrip these two troopers and take their horses with us.\"\n\nThe doublets, breeches, boots, and headgear and cuirasses of\nthe troopers were divided among the weakest and most ailing, and\nUlenspiegel said:\n\n\"We shall go into the wood, where the air is thicker and milder. Let\nus run, brothers.\"\n\nSuddenly a man fell and said:\n\n\"I am cold and I am hungry, and I go before God to bear witness that\nthe Pope is Antichrist on earth.\"\n\nAnd he died. And the others were fain to bear him away with them,\nin order to give him a Christian burial.\n\nWhile they were journeying along a main road they perceived a\ncountryman driving a wagon covered with its canvas tilt. Seeing the\nnaked men, he took pity and made them get into the wagon. There they\nfound hay to lie on and empty sacks to cover themselves with. Being\nwarm, they gave thanks to God. Ulenspiegel, riding by the side of\nthe wagon on one of the reiters' horses, held the other by the bridle.\n\nAt M\u00e9zi\u00e8res they alighted: there they were given good soup, beer,\nbread, cheese, and meat, the old men and the women. They were lodged,\nclad, and weaponed afresh at the charge of the commune. And they all\ngave the embrace of blessing to Ulenspiegel, who received it rejoicing.\n\nHe sold the horses of the two reiters for forty-eight florins, of\nwhich he gave thirty to the Frenchmen.\n\nGoing on his way alone, he said to himself: \"I go through ruins,\nblood, and tears, without finding aught. The devils lied to me,\npast a doubt. Where is Lamme? Where is Nele? Where are the Seven?\"\n\nAnd he heard a voice like a low breath, saying:\n\n\"In death, ruin, and tears, seek.\"\n\nAnd he went his way.\n\n\n\n\n\nXVII\n\nUlenspiegel came to Namur in March. There he saw Lamme, who having\nbeen seized with a great love for the fish of the River Meuse, and\nespecially for the trout, had hired a boat and was fishing in the\nriver by leave of the commune. But he had paid fifty florins to the\nguild of the fishmongers.\n\nHe sold and ate his fish, and in this trade he gained a better paunch\nand a little bag of carolus.\n\nSeeing his friend and comrade going along the banks of the Meuse\nto come into the town, he was filled with joy, thrust his boat up\nagainst the bank, and climbing up the steep, not without puffing,\nhe came to Ulenspiegel. Stammering with pleasure:\n\n\"There you are then, my son,\" said he, \"my son in God, for my belly-ark\ncould carry two like you. Whither go you? What would you? You are\nnot dead, without a doubt? Have you seen my wife? You shall eat Meuse\nfish, the best that is in this world below; they make sauces in this\ncountry fit to make you eat your fingers up to the shoulder. You are\nproud and splendid, with the bronze of battle on your cheeks. There\nyou are then, my son, my friend Ulenspiegel, the jolly vagabond.\"\n\nThen in a low voice:\n\n\"How many Spaniards have you killed? You never saw my wife in\ntheir wagons full of wenches? And the Meuse wine, so delicious for\nconstipated folk, you shall drink of it. Are you wounded, my son? You\nwill stay here then, fresh, lively, keen as an eagle. And the eels,\nyou shall taste lad. No marshy flavour whatever. Kiss me, my fat\nlad. My blessing upon God, how glad I am!\"\n\nAnd Lamme danced, leapt, puffed, and forced Ulenspiegel to dance\nas well.\n\nThen they wended their way towards Namur. At the gate of the city\nUlenspiegel showed his pass signed by the duke. And Lamme brought\nhim to his house.\n\nWhile he was making their meal ready, he made Ulenspiegel tell his\nadventures and recounted his own, having, he said, abandoned the army\nto follow after a girl that he thought was his wife. In this pursuit\nhe had come as far as Namur. And he kept repeating:\n\n\"Have you not seen her at all?\"\n\n\"I saw others that were very beautiful,\" replied Ulenspiegel, \"and\nespecially in this town, where all are amorous.\"\n\n\"In truth,\" said Lamme, \"a hundred times they would fain have had me,\nbut I remained faithful, for my sad heart is big with a single memory.\"\n\n\"As your belly is big with innumerable dishes,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nLamme replied:\n\n\"When I am in distress I must eat.\"\n\n\"Is your grief without respite?\" asked Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Alas, yes!\" said Lamme.\n\nAnd pulling a trout from out a saucepan:\n\n\"See,\" said he, \"how lovely and firm it is. This flesh is pink as\nmy wife's. To-morrow we shall leave Namur; I have a pouch full of\nflorins; we shall buy an ass apiece, and we shall depart riding thus\ntowards the land of Flanders.\"\n\n\"You will lose heavily by it,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"My heart draws me to Damme, which was the place where she loved me\nwell: perchance she has returned thither.\"\n\n\"We shall start to-morrow,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"since you wish it so.\"\n\nAnd as a matter of fact, they set out, each mounted on an ass and\nstraddling along side by side.\n\n\n\n\n\nXVIII\n\nA sharp wind was blowing. The sun, bright as youth in the morning,\nwas veiled and gray as an old man. A rain mixed with hail was falling.\n\nThe rain having ceased, Ulenspiegel shook himself, saying:\n\n\"The sky that drinks up so much mist must relieve itself sometimes.\"\n\nAnother rain, still more mingled with hail than the former, beat down\non the two companions. Lamme groaned:\n\n\"We were well washed, now we must needs be rinsed!\"\n\nThe sun reappeared, and they rode on gaily.\n\nA third rain fell, so full of hail and so deadly that like knives it\nchopped the dry twigs on the trees to mincemeat.\n\nLamme said:\n\n\"Ho! a roof! My poor wife! Where are ye, good fire, soft kisses,\nand fat soups?\"\n\nAnd he wept, the great fellow.\n\nBut Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"We bemoan ourselves,\" said he, \"is it not from ourselves none the\nless that our woes come on us? It is raining on our backs, but this\nDecember rain will make the clover of May. And the kine will low for\npleasure. We are without a shelter, but why did we never marry? I\nmean myself, with little Nele, so pretty and so kind, who would now\ngive me a good stew of beef and beans to eat. We are thirsty in spite\nof the water that is falling; why did we not make ourselves workmen\nsteady in one condition? Those who are received as masters in their\ntrade have in their cellars full casks of bruinbier.\"\n\nThe ashes of Claes beat upon his heart, the sky became clear, the\nsun shone out in it, and Ulenspiegel said:\n\n\"Master Sun, thanks be unto you, you warm our loins again; ashes\nof Claes, ye warm our heart once more, and tell us that blessed are\nthey that are wanderers for the sake of the deliverance of the land\nof our fathers.\"\n\n\"I am hungry,\" said Lamme.\n\n\n\n\n\nXIX\n\nThey came into an inn, where they were served with supper in an upper\nchamber. Ulenspiegel, opening the windows, saw from thence a garden\nin which a comely girl was walking, plump, round bosomed, with golden\nhair, and clad only in a petticoat, a jacket of white linen, and an\napron of black stuff, full of holes.\n\nChemises and other woman's linen was bleaching on cords: the girl,\nstill turned towards Ulenspiegel, was taking chemises down from the\nlines, and putting them back and smiling and still looking at him,\nand sat down on linen bands, swinging on the two ends knotted together.\n\nNear by Ulenspiegel heard a cock crowing and saw a nurse playing with\na child whose face she turned towards a man that was standing, saying:\n\n\"Boelkin, look nicely at papa!\"\n\nThe child wept.\n\nAnd the pretty girl continued to walk about in the garden, displacing\nand replacing the linen.\n\n\"She is a spy,\" said Lamme.\n\nThe girl put her hands before her eyes, and smiling between her\nfingers, looked at Ulenspiegel.\n\nThen pressing up her two breasts with her hands, she let them fall\nback, and swung again without her feet touching the ground. And the\nlinen, unwinding itself, made her turn like a top, while Ulenspiegel\nsaw her arms, bare to the shoulders, white and round in the pallid\nsunshine. Turning and smiling, she kept always looking at him. He\nwent out to find her. Lamme followed him. At the hedge of the garden\nhe searched for an opening to pass through, but found none.\n\nThe girl, seeing what he was doing, looked again, smiling between\nher fingers.\n\nUlenspiegel tried to break through the hedge, while Lamme, holding\nhim back, said to him:\n\n\"Do not go there; she is a spy, we shall be burned.\"\n\nThen the girl walked about the garden, covering up her face with\nher apron, and looking through the holes to see if her chance friend\nwould not be coming soon.\n\nUlenspiegel was going to leap over the hedge with a running jump,\nbut he was prevented by Lamme, who caught hold of him by the leg and\nmade him fall, saying:\n\n\"Rope, sword, and gallows, 'tis a spy, do not go there.\"\n\nSitting on the ground, Ulenspiegel struggled against him. The girl\ncried out, pushing up her head above the hedge:\n\n\"Adieu, Messire, may Love keep your Longanimousness hanging!\"\n\nAnd he heard a burst of mocking laughter.\n\n\"Ah!\" said he, \"it is in my ears like a packet of pins!\"\n\nThen a door shut noisily.\n\nAnd he was melancholy.\n\nLamme said to him, still holding him:\n\n\"You are counting over the sweet treasures of beauty thus lost to\nyour shame. 'Tis a spy. You fall in luck when you fall. I am going\nto burst with laughing.\"\n\nUlenspiegel said not a word, and both got up on their asses once more.\n\n\n\n\n\nXX\n\nThey went on their way each well astride his ass.\n\nLamme, chewing the cud of his last meat, sniffed up the cool air\nrejoicing. Suddenly Ulenspiegel fetched him a great stinging slash\nof his whip on his behind, which was like a cushion in the saddle.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" cried Lamme, piteously.\n\n\"What!\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"This lash with the whip?\" said Lamme.\n\n\"What lash with the whip?\"\n\n\"The one I got from you,\" returned Lamme.\n\n\"On the left?\" asked Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Aye, on the left and on my behind. Why did you do that, scandalous\nvagabond?\"\n\n\"In ignorance,\" replied Ulenspiegel. \"I know well enough what a\nwhip is, and very well, too, what a behind of small compass is upon\na saddle. But seeing this one wide, swollen, tight, and overflowing\nthe saddle, I said to myself: 'Since it could never be pinched with\na finger, a stroke of the whip could not sting it either with the\nlash.' I was wrong.\"\n\nLamme smiling at this speech, Ulenspiegel went on in these terms:\n\n\"But I am not the only one in this world to sin through ignorance,\nand there is more than one past-master idiot displaying his fat on\na donkey saddle who could give me points. If my whip sinned on your\nbehind, you sinned much more weightily on my legs in preventing them\nfrom running after the girl who was coquetting in her garden.\"\n\n\"Crow's meat!\" said Lamme, \"so it was revenge then?\"\n\n\"Just a little one,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\n\n\n\n\nXXI\n\nAt Damme Nele the unhappy lived alone with Katheline who still for\nlove called the cold devil who never came.\n\n\"Ah!\" she would say, \"thou art rich, Hanske my darling, and mightest\nbring me back the seven hundred carolus. Then would Soetkin come back\nalive from limbo to this earth, and Claes would laugh in the sky: well\ncanst thou do this. Take away the fire, the soul would fain come out;\nmake a hole, the soul would fain come out.\"\n\nAnd without ceasing she pointed her finger to the place where the\ntow had been.\n\nKatheline was very poor, but the neighbours helped her with beans,\nwith bread and meat according to their means. The commune gave her some\nmoney. And Nele sewed dresses for rich women in the town; went to their\nhouses to iron their linen, and in this way earned a florin a week.\n\nAnd Katheline still repeated:\n\n\"Make a hole; take away my soul. It knocks to get out. He will give\nback the seven hundred carolus.\"\n\nAnd Nele, listening to her, wept.\n\n\n\n\n\nXXII\n\nMeanwhile, Ulenspiegel and Lamme, armed with their passes, came to a\nlittle inn backed up against the rocks of the Sambre, which in certain\nplaces are covered with trees. And on the sign there was written:\nChez Marlaire.\n\nHaving drunk many a flask of Meuse wine of the fashion of Burgundy and\neaten much fish, they gossiped with the host, a Papist of the deepest\ndye, but as talkative as a magpie through the wine he had drunk and all\nthe time winking an eye cunningly. Ulenspiegel, divining some mystery\nunder this winking, made him drink more, so much that the host began\nto dance and burst out into laughter, then returning to the table:\n\n\"Good Catholics,\" he said, \"I drink to you.\"\n\n\"To you we drink,\" replied Lamme and Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"To the extinction of all plague, of rebellion and heresy.\"\n\n\"We drink,\" replied Lamme and Ulenspiegel, who kept replenishing the\ngoblet the host could never allow to stay full.\n\n\"You are good fellows,\" said he. \"I drink to your Generosities;\nI make a profit on wine drunk. Where are your passes?\"\n\n\"Here they are,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Signed by the duke,\" said the host. \"I drink to the duke.\"\n\n\"To the duke we drink,\" replied Lamme and Ulenspiegel. The host,\ncontinuing:\n\n\"How do we catch rats, mice, and field mice? In rat-traps, snares,\nand mouse-traps. Who is the field mouse? 'Tis the great heretic Orange\nas hellfire. God is with us. They are coming. H\u00e9! h\u00e9! Something to\ndrink! Pour out, I am roasting, burning. To drink! Most goodly little\nreforming preachers.... I say little ... goodly little gallants, stout\ntroopers, oak trees.... Drink! Will you not go with them to the great\nheretic's camp? I have passes signed by him. Ye shall see their work.\"\n\n\"We shall go to the camp,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"They will get there all right, and by night if an opportunity\noffers\" (and the host, whistling, made the gesture of a man cutting a\nthroat). \"Steel-wind will stop the blackbird Nassau from ever whistling\nagain. Come on, something to drink, hey!\"\n\n\"You are a gay fellow, even though you are married,\" replied\nUlenspiegel.\n\nSaid the host:\n\n\"I neither was nor am. I hold the secrets of princes. Drink up! My wife\nwould steal them from my pillow to have me hanged and to be a widow\nsooner than Nature means it. Vive Dieu! they are coming ... where are\nthe new passes? On my Christian heart. Let us drink! They are there,\nthree hundred paces along the road, at Marche-les-Dames. Do ye see\nthem? Let us drink!\"\n\n\"Drink,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"I drink to the king, to the duke, to\nthe preachers, to Steel-wind; I drink to you, to me; I drink to the\nwine and to the bottle. You are not drinking.\" And at every health\nUlenspiegel filled up his glass and the host emptied it.\n\nUlenspiegel studied him for some time; then rising up:\n\n\"He is asleep,\" said he; \"let us go, Lamme.\"\n\nWhen they were outside:\n\n\"He has no wife to betray us.... The night is about to come\ndown.... You heard clearly what this rogue said, and you know who\nthe three preachers are?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"You know they are coming from Marche-les-Dames, along by the Meuse,\nand it will be well to wait for them on the way before Steel-wind\nblows.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"We must save the prince's life,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Aye,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"Here,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"take my musket; go there into the underwoods\nbetween the rocks; load it with two bullets and fire when I croak\nlike a crow.\"\n\n\"I will,\" said Lamme.\n\nAnd he disappeared into the undergrowth. And Ulenspiegel soon heard\nthe creak of the lock of the musket.\n\n\"Do you see them coming?\" said he.\n\n\"I see them,\" replied Lamme. \"They are three, marching like soldiers,\nand one of them overtops the others by the head.\"\n\nUlenspiegel sat down on the road, his legs out in front of him,\nmurmuring prayers on a rosary, as beggars do. And he had his bonnet\nbetween his knees.\n\nWhen the three preachers passed by, he held out his bonnet to them,\nbut they put nothing in.\n\nThen rising, Ulenspiegel said piteously:\n\n\"Good sirs, refuse not a patard to a poor workman, a porter who\nlately cracked his loins falling into a mine. They are hard folk in\nthis country, and they would give me nothing to relieve my wretched\nplight. Alas! give me a patard, and I will pray for you. And God will\nkeep Your Magnanimities in joy throughout all their lives.\"\n\n\"My son,\" said one of the preachers, a fine robust fellow, \"there\nwill be no joy more for us in this world so long as the Pope and the\nInquisition reign therein.\"\n\nUlenspiegel sighed also, saying:\n\n\"Alas! what are you saying, my masters! Speak low, if it please Your\nGraces. But give me a patard.\"\n\n\"My son,\" replied a preacher who had a warrior-like face, \"we others,\npoor martyrs, we have no patards beyond what we need to sustain life\non our journey.\"\n\nUlenspiegel threw himself on his knees.\n\n\"Bless me,\" said he.\n\nThe three preachers stretched out their hands over Ulenspiegel's head\nwith no devoutness.\n\nRemarking that they were lean men, and yet had fine paunches, he got\nup again, pretended to fall, and striking his forehead against the tall\npreacher's belly, he heard therein a gay clink and tinkle of money.\n\nThen drawing himself up and drawing his bragmart:\n\n\"My goodly fathers,\" said he, \"it is chilly weather and I am lightly\nclad; you are clad overly much. Give me your wool that I may cut\nmyself a cloak out of it. I am a Beggar. Long live the Beggars!\"\n\nThe tall preacher replied:\n\n\"My Beggar-cock, you carry your comb too high; we shall cut it\nfor you.\"\n\n\"Cut it!\" said Ulenspiegel, drawing back, \"but Steel-wind shall blow\nfor you before ever it blows for the prince. Beggar I am; long live\nthe Beggars!\"\n\nThe three preachers, dumbfounded, said one to another:\n\n\"Whence does he know this news? We are betrayed! Slay! Long live\nthe Mass!\"\n\nAnd they drew from under their hose fine bragmarts, well sharpened.\n\nBut Ulenspiegel, without waiting for them, gave ground towards\nthat side of the brushwood where Lamme was hidden. Judging that the\npreachers were within musket range, he said:\n\n\"Crows, black crows, Lead-wind is about to blow. I sing for your\nfinish.\"\n\nAnd he croaked.\n\nA musket shot, from out of the brushwood, knocked over the tallest\nof the preachers with his face to the ground, and was followed by a\nsecond shot which stretched the second on the road.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel saw amid the brush Lamme's good visage, and his arm\nup hastily recharging his arquebus.\n\nAnd a blue smoke rose up above the black brushwood.\n\nThe third preacher, furious with rage, would fain by main force have\ncut down Ulenspiegel, who said:\n\n\"Steel-wind or Lead-wind, thou art about to go over from this world\nto the other, foul artificer of murders!\"\n\nAnd he attacked him, and he defended himself bravely.\n\nAnd they both remained standing face to face stiffly upon the highway,\ndelivering and parrying blows. Ulenspiegel was all bloody, for his\nopponent, a tough soldier, had wounded him in the head and the leg. But\nhe attacked and defended like a lion. As the blood that flowed from\nhis head blinded him, he broke ground continually with great strides,\nwiped it off with his left hand and felt himself grow weak. He was like\nto be killed had not Lamme fired on the preacher and brought him down.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel saw and heard him belch forth blasphemy, blood,\nand deathfoam.\n\nAnd the blue smoke rose up above the black brushwood, amidst of which\nLamme showed his good face once more.\n\n\"Is that all over?\" said he.\n\n\"Aye, my son,\" answered Ulenspiegel. \"But come....\"\n\nLamme, coming out of his niche, saw Ulenspiegel all covered with\nblood. Then running like a stag, in spite of his belly, he came to\nUlenspiegel, seated on the earth beside the slain men.\n\n\"He is wounded,\" said he, \"my friend, wounded by that murdering\nrascal.\" And with a kick from his heel he broke in the teeth of the\nnearest preacher.\n\n\"You do not answer, Ulenspiegel! Are you going to die, my\nson? Where is that balsam? Ha! in the bottom of his satchel, under\nthe sausages. Ulenspiegel, do you not hear me? Alas! I have no warm\nwater to wash your wound, nor any way to have it. But the water of the\nSambre will serve. Speak to me, my friend. You are not so terribly\nwounded, in any case. A little water, there, very cold water, is it\nnot? He awakes. 'Tis I, thy friend: they are all dead! Linen! linen\nto tie up his hurts. There is none. My shirt then.\" He took off his\ndoublet. And Lamme continuing his discourse: \"In pieces, shirt! The\nblood is stopping. My friend will not die.\"\n\n\"Ha!\" he said, \"how cold it is, bareback in this keen air. Let us\nreclothe ourselves. He will not die. 'Tis I, Ulenspiegel, I thy\nfriend Lamme. He smiles. I shall despoil the assassins. They have\nbellies of florins. Gilded entrails, carolus, florins, daelders,\npatards, and letters! We are rich. More than three hundred carolus\nto share. Let us take the arms and the money. Steel-wind will not\nblow as yet for Monseigneur.\"\n\nUlenspiegel, his teeth chattering from the cold, rose up.\n\n\"There you are on your feet,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"That is the might of the balsam,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"The balsam of valiancy,\" answered Lamme.\n\nThen taking the bodies of the three preachers one by one, he cast\nthem into a hole among the rocks, leaving them their weapons and\ntheir clothes, all save their cloaks.\n\nAnd all about them in the sky croaked the ravens, awaiting their food.\n\nAnd the Sambre rolled along like a river of steel under the gray sky.\n\nAnd the snow fell, washing the blood away.\n\nAnd they were nevertheless troubled. And Lamme said:\n\n\"I would rather kill a chicken than a man.\"\n\nAnd they mounted their asses again.\n\nAt the gates of Huy the blood was still flowing; they pretended to\nfall into quarrel together, got down from their asses, and fenced\nand foined with their daggers most cruelly to behold; then having\nbrought the combat to an end, they mounted again and entered into Huy,\nshowing their passes at the gates of the city.\n\nThe women seeing Ulenspiegel wounded and bleeding, and Lamme playing\nthe victor upon his ass, they looked on Ulenspiegel with pity and\nshowed their fists at Lamme saying: \"That one is the rascal that\nwounded his friend.\"\n\nLamme, uneasy, only sought among them whether he did not see his wife.\n\nIt was in vain, and he was plunged in melancholy.\n\n\n\n\n\nXXIII\n\n\"Whither are we going?\" said Lamme.\n\n\"To Maestricht,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"But, my son, they say the duke's army is there all about and around,\nand that he himself is within the city. Our passes will not be enough\nfor us. If the Spanish troopers accept them, none the less we shall be\nheld in the town and interrogated. Meanwhile, they will have discovered\nthe death of the preachers, and we shall have finished with living.\"\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"The ravens, the owls, and the vultures will soon have made an end of\ntheir meat; already, beyond a doubt, they have faces that could not be\nrecognized. As for our passes they may be good; but if they learned of\nthe slaughter, we should, as you say, be taken prisoners. Nevertheless,\nwe must needs go to Maestricht and take Landen on our way.\"\n\n\"They will hang us,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"We shall pass,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\nThus talking, they arrived at the Magpie inn, where they found good\nmeals, good beds, and hay for their asses.\n\nThe next day they set out on their way to Landen.\n\nHaving arrived at a great farm near the city, Ulenspiegel whistled\nlike the lark, and immediately there answered from within the\nwarlike clarion of a cock. A farmer with a goodly face appeared on\nthe threshold of the farmhouse. He said to them:\n\n\"Friends, as freemen, long live the Beggar! Come within.\"\n\n\"Who is this one?\" asked Lamme.\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"Thomas Utenhove, the brave reformer; his serving men and women on\nthe farm work like him for freedom of conscience.\"\n\nThen Utenhove said:\n\n\"Ye are the prince's envoys. Eat and drink.\"\n\nAnd the ham began to crackle in the pan and the black puddings also,\nand the wine went about and glasses were filled. And Lamme fell to\ndrinking like the dry sand and to eating lustily.\n\nLads and lasses of the farm came in turns and thrust in their noses\nat the half-open door to look at him labouring with his jaws. And\nthe men, jealous of him, said they could do as well as he.\n\nAt the end of the meal Thomas Utenhove said:\n\n\"A hundred peasants will go from here this week under pretence of going\nto work on the dykes at Bruges and round about. They will travel by\nbands of five or six and by different ways. There will be boats at\nBruges to fetch them by sea to Emden.\"\n\n\"Will they be furnished with weapons and money?\" asked Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"They will have each ten florins and big cutlasses.\"\n\n\"God and the prince will reward you,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"I am not working for reward,\" replied Thomas Utenhove.\n\n\"What do you do,\" said Lamme, eating big black puddings, \"what do\nyou do, master host, to have a dish so savoury, so succulent, and\nwith such fine grease?\"\n\n\"'Tis because we put in it,\" the host said, \"cinnamon and catnip.\"\n\nThen speaking to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Is Edzard, Count of Frisia, is he still the prince's friend?\"\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"He hides it, while at the same time giving refuge at Emden to\nhis ships.\"\n\nAnd he added:\n\n\"We must go to Maestricht.\"\n\n\"You will not be able to do so,\" said the host; \"the duke's army is\nbefore the town and in the environs.\"\n\nThen taking him into the loft, he showed him far away the ensigns\nand guidons of horse soldiers and footmen riding and marching in\nthe country.\n\nUlenspiegel said:\n\n\"I shall make my way through if you, who are of authority in this\nplace, will give me a permit to marry. As for the woman, she must be\npretty, gentle, and sweet, and willing to marry me, if not for always,\nat least for a week.\"\n\nLamme sighed and said:\n\n\"Do not do this, my son; she will leave you alone, burning in the\nfires of love. Your bed, where you now sleep so snugly, will become\nas a mattress of holly to you, depriving you of sweet slumber.\"\n\n\"I will take a wife,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd Lamme, finding nothing more on the table, was deeply\ndistressed. However, having discovered castrelins in a bowl, he ate\nthem in melancholy fashion.\n\nUlenspiegel said to Thomas Utenhove:\n\n\"Come, then, let us drink; give me a wife rich or poor. I shall go\nwith her to church and have the marriage blessed by the cur\u00e9. And he\nwill give us the certificate of marriage, which will not be valid\nsince it comes from a Papist and inquisitor; we shall have it set\ndown in it that we are all good Christians, having confessed and\ntaken the Sacrament, living apostolically according to the precepts\nof our Holy Mother the Roman Church, which burneth her children,\nand thus calling upon us the blessings of our Holy Father the Pope,\nthe armies celestial and terrestrial, the saints both men and women,\ndeans, cur\u00e9s, monks, soldiers, catchpolls, and other rascals. Armed\nwith this certificate aforesaid, we shall make our preparations for\nthe usual festal wedding journey.\"\n\n\"But the woman,\" said Thomas Utenhove.\n\n\"You will find her for me,\" replied Ulenspiegel. \"I will take two\nwagons, then; I will bedeck them with wreaths adorned with pine boughs,\nholly, and paper flowers; I will fill them with certain of the lads\nyou want to send to the prince.\"\n\n\"But the woman?\" said Thomas Utenhove.\n\n\"She is here without a doubt,\" replied Ulenspiegel. And continuing:\n\n\"I shall harness two of your horses to one of the wagons, our two asses\nto the other. In the first wagon I shall put my wife and myself,\nmy friend Lamme, the witnesses of the marriage; in the second,\ntambourine players, fifers, and shawm players. Then displaying the\njoyful marriage flags, playing the tambourine, singing, drinking,\nwe will go trotting down the highway that leads to the Galgen-Veld,\nthe Gallows Field, or to liberty.\"\n\n\"I will help you,\" said Thomas Utenhove. \"But the women and girls\nwill wish to go with their men.\"\n\n\"We shall go, by the grace of God,\" said a pretty girl, putting her\nhead in at the half-open door.\n\n\"There will be four wagons, if they are needed,\" said Thomas Utenhove;\n\"in this way we shall get more than twenty-five men through.\"\n\n\"The duke will be crestfallen,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"And the prince's fleet served by some good soldiers the more,\"\nreplied Thomas Utenhove.\n\nHaving his serving men and women summoned then by ringing a bell,\nhe said to them:\n\n\"All ye that are of Zealand, men and women, oyez; Ulenspiegel the\nFleming here present desires that you should pass through the duke's\narmy in wedding array.\"\n\nMen and women of Zealand shouted together:\n\n\"Danger of death! we are willing!\"\n\nAnd the men said, one to another:\n\n\"It is joy to us to leave the land of slavery to go to the free\nsea. If God be for us, who shall be against us?\"\n\nWomen and girls said:\n\n\"Let us follow our husbands and our lovers. We are of Zealand and we\nshall find harbour there.\"\n\nUlenspiegel espied a pretty young girl, and said to her, jesting:\n\n\"I want to marry you.\"\n\nBut she, blushing, replied:\n\n\"I am willing, but only in church.\"\n\nThe women, laughing, said to one another:\n\n\"Her heart turns to Hans Utenhove, the son of the baes. Doubtless he\nis going with her.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" replied Hans.\n\nAnd the father said to him:\n\n\"You may.\"\n\nThe men donned festal raiment, doublet and breeches of velvet, and\nthe big opperst-kleed over all, and large kerchiefs on their heads,\nto keep off sun and rain; the women in black stockings and pinked\nshoes; wearing the big gilt jewel on their foreheads, on the left for\nthe girls, on the right for the married women; the white ruff upon\ntheir necks, the plastron of gold, scarlet, and azure embroidery,\nthe petticoat of black woollen, with wide velvet stripes of the same\ncolour, black woollen stockings and velvet shoes with silver buckles.\n\nThen Thomas Utenhove went off to the church to beg the priest to\nmarry immediately, for two ryck-daelders which he put in his hand,\nThylbert the son of Claes, which was Ulenspiegel, and Tannekin Pieters,\nto the which the cur\u00e9 consented.\n\nUlenspiegel then went to church followed by the whole wedding party,\nand there he married before the priest Tannekin, so pretty and sweet,\nso gracious and so plump, that he would gladly have bitten her cheeks\nlike a love-apple. And he told her so, not daring to do it for the\nrespect he had to her gentle beauty. But she, pouting, said to him:\n\n\"Leave me alone: there is Hans looking murder at you.\"\n\nAnd a jealous girl said to him:\n\n\"Look elsewhere: do you not see she is afraid of her man?\"\n\nLamme, rubbing his hands, exclaimed:\n\n\"You are not to have them all, rogue.\"\n\nAnd he was delighted.\n\nUlenspiegel, applying patience to his trouble, came back to the farm\nwith the wedding party. And there he drank, sang, and was jolly,\ndrinking hob-nob with the jealous girl. Thereat Hans was merry,\nbut not Tannekin, nor the girl's betrothed.\n\nAt noon, in bright sunshine and a cool wind, the wagons set forth,\nall greenery and flowers, all the banners displayed to the merry\nsound of tambourines, shawms, fifes, and bagpipes.\n\nAt Alba's camp there was another feast. The advanced outposts and\nsentinels having sounded the alarm, came in one after another, saying:\n\n\"The enemy is near at hand; we have heard the noise of tambourines and\nfifes and seen his ensigns. It is a strong body of cavalry come there\nto draw you into some ambush. The main army is doubtless farther on.\"\n\nThe duke at once had his camp masters, colonels, and captains informed,\nordered them to set the army in battle array, and sent to reconnoitre\nthe enemy.\n\nSuddenly there appeared four wagons advancing towards the\nmusketeers. In the wagons men and women were dancing, bottles were\njigging round, and merrily squealed the fifes, moaned the shawms,\nbeat the drums and droned the bagpipes.\n\nThe wedding party having halted, Alba came in person to the noise,\nand beheld the new-made bride on one of the four wagons; Ulenspiegel,\nher bridegroom, all rosy and fine beside her, and all the country\nfolk, both men and women, alighted on the ground, dancing all about\nand offering drink to the soldiers.\n\nAlba and his train marvelled greatly at the simplicity of these\npeasants who were singing and feasting when everything was in arms\nall about them.\n\nAnd those who were in the wagons gave all their wine to the soldiers.\n\nAnd they were well applauded and welcomed by them.\n\nThe wine giving out in the wagons, the peasants went on their way\nagain to the sound of the tambourines, fifes, and bagpipes, without\nbeing interfered with.\n\nAnd the soldiers, gay and jolly, fired a salvo of musket shots in\ntheir honour.\n\nAnd thus they came into Maestricht, where Ulenspiegel made arrangements\nwith the reformers' agents to despatch by vessels arms and munitions\nto the fleet of the Silent.\n\nAnd they did the same at Landen.\n\nAnd they went in this way elsewhere, clad as workmen.\n\nThe duke heard of the trick; and there was a song made upon it,\nwhich was sent him, and the refrain of which was:\n\n\n    Bloody Duke, silly head,\n    Have you seen the newlywed?\n\n\nAnd every time he had made a wrong manoeuvre the soldiers would sing:\n\n\n    The Duke has dust in eye:\n    He has seen the newlywed.\n\n\n\n\n\nXXIV\n\nIn the meantime, King Philip was plunged in bitter melancholy. In his\ngrievous pride he prayed to God to give him power to conquer England,\nto subdue France, to take Milan, Genoa, Venice, and great lord of\nall the seas, thus to reign over all Europe.\n\nThinking of this triumph, he laughed not.\n\nHe was continually and always cold; wine never warmed him, nor the\nfire of scented wood that was always burning in the chamber where he\nwas. There always writing, sitting amid so many letters that a hundred\ncasks might have been filled with them, he brooded over the universal\ndomination of the whole world, such as was wielded by the emperors of\nRome; on his jealous hatred of his son Don Carlos, since the latter\nhad wanted to go to the Low Countries in the Duke of Alba's place, to\nseek to reign there, he thought, without doubt. And seeing him ugly,\ndeformed, a savage and cruel madman, he hated him the more. But he\nnever spoke of it.\n\nThose who served King Philip and his son Don Carlos knew not which\nof the twain they ought to fear the most; whether the son, agile,\nmurderous, tearing his servitors with his nails, or the cowardly\nand crafty father, using others to strike, and like a hy\u00e6na, living\nupon corpses.\n\nThe servitors were terrified to see them prowling around each\nother. And they said that there would soon be a death in the Escurial.\n\nNow they learned presently that Don Carlos had been imprisoned for the\ncrime of high treason. And they knew that he was devouring his soul\nwith black spite, that he had hurt his face trying to get through\nthe bars of his prison in order to escape, and that Madame Isabelle\nof France, his mother, was weeping without ceasing.\n\nBut King Philip was not weeping.\n\nThe rumour came to them that Don Carlos had been given green figs\nand that he was dead the next day as if he had gone to sleep. The\nphysicians said as soon as he had eaten the figs the blood ceased to\nbeat, the functions of life, as Nature meant them, were interrupted;\nhe could neither spit, nor vomit, nor get rid of anything from out\nof his body. His belly swelled at his death.\n\nKing Philip heard the death mass for Don Carlos, had him buried\nin the chapel of his royal residence and marble set over his body;\nbut he did not weep.\n\nAnd the lords in waiting said to one another, mocking the princely\nepitaph that was on the tombstone:\n\n\n                 HERE LIES ONE WHO, EATING GREEN FIGS,\n                     DIED WITHOUT HAVING BEEN SICK\n\n                  A qui jaze qui en para desit verdad,\n                         Morio s'in infirmidad\n\n\nAnd King Philip looked with a lustful eye upon the Princess of Eboli,\nwho was married. He besought her love, and she yielded.\n\nMadame Isabelle of France, of whom it was said that she had favoured\nthe designs of Don Carlos upon the Low Countries, became haggard and\nwoebegone. And her hair fell out in great handfuls at a time. Often\nshe vomited, and the nails of her feet and her hands came out. And\nshe died.\n\nAnd King Philip did not weep.\n\nThe hair of the Prince of Eboli fell out also. He became sad and always\ncomplaining. Then the nails of his feet and his hands came out, too.\n\nAnd King Philip had him buried.\n\nAnd he paid for the widow's mourning and did not weep.\n\n\n\n\n\nXXV\n\nAt this time certain women and girls of Damme came to ask Nele if she\nwould be the May bride and hide among the brushwood with the groom that\nwould be found for her; \"for,\" said the women, not without jealousy,\n\"there is not one young man in all Damme and round about who would\nnot fain be betrothed to you, who stay so lovely, good, and fresh:\nthe gift of a witch, doubtless.\"\n\n\"Goodwives,\" answered Nele, \"say to the young men that seek after me:\n'Nele's heart is not here, but with him that wandereth to deliver\nthe land of our fathers.' And if I am fresh, even as you say, it is\nno gift of a witch, but the gift of good health.\"\n\nThe goodwives replied:\n\n\"All the same, Katheline is suspect.\"\n\n\"Do not believe what ill folk say,\" answered Nele; \"Katheline is\nno witch. The law-men burned tow upon her head and God struck her\nwith witlessness.\"\n\nAnd Katheline, nodding her head in a corner where she was sitting\nall huddled up, said:\n\n\"Take away the fire; he will come back, my darling Hanske.\"\n\nThe goodwives asking who was this Hanske, Nele replied:\n\n\"It is the son of Claes, my foster brother, whom she thinks she lost\nsince God struck her.\"\n\nAnd the kindly goodwives gave silver patards to Katheline. And when\nthey were new she showed them to someone that nobody could see, saying:\n\n\"I am rich, rich in shining silver. Come, Hanske, my darling; I will\npay for my love.\"\n\nAnd the goodwives being gone, Nele wept in the lonely cottage. And\nshe thought on Ulenspiegel wandering in far-off countries where she\nmight not follow him, and on Katheline who, often groaning \"take away\nthe fire,\" held her bosom with both hands, showing in this way that\nthe fire of madness burned her head and her body feverishly.\n\nAnd in the meanwhile the bride and groom of May hid in the grass.\n\nHe or she who found one of them was, according to the sex of the one\nfound, and his or her own, King or Queen of the feast.\n\nNele heard the cries of joy of the lads and lasses when the May bride\nwas found on the edge of a ditch, hidden among the tall grasses.\n\nAnd she wept, thinking on the sweet time when they hunted for her\nand her friend Ulenspiegel.\n\n\n\n\n\nXXVI\n\nMeanwhile, Lamme and he were riding along well astraddle upon their\nasses.\n\n\"Listen here, Lamme,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"the nobles of the Low\nCountries, through jealousy against Orange, have betrayed the cause\nof the confederates, the holy alliance, the valiant covenant signed\nfor the good of the land of our fathers. Egmont and de Hoorn were\ntraitors alike and with no advantage to themselves. Brederode is\ndead; in this war there is nothing left us now but the poor common\nfolk of Brabant and Flanders waiting for loyal chiefs to go forward;\nand then, my son, the isles, the isles of Zealand, North Holland, too,\nover which the Prince is governor; and farther still and on the sea,\nEdzard, Count of Emden and East Frisia.\"\n\n\"Alas,\" said Lamme, \"I see it clear; we journey between rope, rack, and\nstake, dying of hunger, gaping for thirst, and with no hope of rest.\"\n\n\"We are but at the beginning,\" replied Ulenspiegel. \"Deign to consider\nhow that all in this is pleasure for us, slaying our enemies,\nmocking them, having our pouches full of florins; well laden with\nmeat, with beer, with wine, with brandy. What would you have more,\nfeather bed? Would you like us to sell our asses and buy horses?\"\n\n\"My son,\" said Lamme, \"the trotting of a horse is very severe on a\nman of my corpulence.\"\n\n\"You will sit on your steed as peasants do,\" said Ulenspiegel,\n\"and no man will mock at you, since you are clad like a peasant,\nand do not wear the sword like me, but only carry a pikestaff.\"\n\n\"My son,\" said Lamme, \"are you sure that our two passes will avail\nfor the little towns?\"\n\n\"Have not I the cur\u00e9's certificate,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"with the\ngreat seal of the Church in red wax hanging from it by two tails of\nparchment, and our confession cards? The soldiers and catchpolls of\nthe duke have no power against two men so well armed. And the black\npaternosters we have for sale? We are two reiters, both of us, you a\nFleming and I a German, travelling by express command from the duke,\nto win over the heretics of this land to the Holy Catholic faith\nby the sale of sacred articles. We shall thus enter everywhere the\nhouses of noble lords and the fat abb\u00e9s. And they will give us rich\nhospitality. And we shall surprise their secrets. Lick your chops,\nmy gentle friend.\"\n\n\"My son,\" said Lamme, \"we will then be carrying on the trade of spies.\"\n\n\"By law and right of war,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"If they hear of the affair of the three preachers, we shall die\nwithout a doubt,\" said Lamme.\n\nUlenspiegel sang:\n\n\n    \"My standards 'Live' as motto bear\n    Live ever in a sunshine land\n    My skin the first is buff well tanned\n    And steel the second skin I wear.\"\n\n\nBut Lamme, sighing:\n\n\"I have nothing but one skin, and a soft one; the least stroke of a\ndagger would make a hole in it immediately. We should do better to\nsettle in some useful trade than to gad about in this way over hill\nand valley, to serve all these great princes who, with their feet in\nvelvet hose, eat ortolans on gilded tables. To us the blows, perils,\nbattle, rain, hail, snow, the thin soups that fall to vagabonds. To\nthem the fine sausages, fat capons, savoury thrushes, succulent fowls.\"\n\n\"The water is coming into your mouth, my gentle friend,\" said\nUlenspiegel.\n\n\"Where are ye, fresh bread, golden koekebakken, delicious creams? But\nwhere art thou, my wife?\"\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"The ashes beat upon my heart and drive me on to the battle. But\nthou, mild lamb that hast naught to avenge, neither the death of\nthy father nor of thy mother, nor the grief of those thou lovest,\nnor thy present poverty, leave me alone to march whither I say,\nif the toils of war affright thee.\"\n\n\"Alone?\" said Lamme.\n\nAnd he pulled up his ass, which began to eat a tuft of thistles,\nof which there was a great plantation on that wayside. Ulenspiegel's\nass stopped and ate likewise.\n\n\"Alone,\" said Lamme. \"You will not leave me alone, my son; that would\nbe an infamous cruelty. To have lost my wife and then further to lose\nmy friend, that is impossible. I will whine no more, I promise you. And\nsince it must be\"--and he raised his head proudly--\"I will go under\nthe rain of bullets. Aye! And in the midst of swords; aye! in the face\nof those foul soldiers that drink blood like wolves. And if one day\nI fall at your feet bloody and death-stricken, bury me; and if you\nsee my wife, tell her that I died because I could not bear to live\nwithout being loved by someone in this world. No, I could not do it,\nmy son Ulenspiegel.\"\n\nAnd Lamme wept. And Ulenspiegel was moved to see that mild courage.\n\n\n\n\n\nXXVII\n\nAt this time the duke, dividing his army into two corps, made the\none march towards the Duchy of Luxembourg and the other towards the\nMarquisate of Namur.\n\n\"This,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"is some military decision unknown to me;\nit is all one to me, let us go towards Maestricht boldly.\"\n\nAs they went alongside the Meuse near the city Lamme saw Ulenspiegel\nlooking attentively at all the boats that were moving in the river; and\nhe stopped before one of them that bore a siren on the prow. And this\nsiren held a scutcheon on which there was marked in gold letters on a\nsable ground the sign J. H. S., which is that of Our Lord Jesus Christ.\n\nUlenspiegel signed to Lamme to stop and began to sing merrily like\na lark.\n\nA man came up on the boat, crowed like a cock, and then, on a\nsign from Ulenspiegel, who brayed like a donkey and pointed him to\nthe people gathered on the quay, he began to bray terribly like a\ndonkey. Ulenspiegel's two asses laid back their ears and sang their\nnative song.\n\nWomen were passing; men, too, riding the towing horses, and Ulenspiegel\nsaid to Lamme:\n\n\"That boatman is mocking us and our steeds. Suppose we go and attack\nhim on his boat?\"\n\n\"Let him rather come hither,\" replied Lamme.\n\nThen a woman spoke and said:\n\n\"If you do not want to come back with arms cut off, broken backs,\nfaces in bits, let that Stercke Pier bray in peace as he pleases.\"\n\n\"Hee haw! hee haw! hee haw!\" went the boatman.\n\n\"Let him sing,\" said the goodwife, \"we saw him the other day lift up on\nhis shoulders a cart laden with huge casks of beer, and stop another\ncart pulled by a powerful horse. There,\" she said, pointing to the\ninn of the Blauwe-Toren, the Blue Tower, \"he pierced with his knife,\nthrown from twenty paces off, an oaken plank twelve inches thick.\"\n\n\"Hee haw! hee haw! hee haw!\" went the boatman, while a lad of twelve\nyears old got up on the bridge of the boat and started to bray also.\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"Much we care for your strong Peter! However Stercke Pier he may be,\nwe are more of it than he is, and there is my friend Lamme who would\neat two of his size without a hiccup.\"\n\n\"What are you saying, my son?\" asked Lamme.\n\n\"What is,\" replied Ulenspiegel; \"do not contradict me through\nmodesty. Aye, good people, goodwives and artisans, soon you will behold\nhim try the work of his arms and annihilate this famous Stercke Pier.\"\n\n\"Hold your tongue,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"Your might is well known,\" replied Ulenspiegel, \"you could never\nhide it.\"\n\n\"Hee haw!\" went the boatman; \"hee haw!\" went the lad.\n\nSuddenly Ulenspiegel sang again, most melodiously like a lark. And\nthe men, the women, and the artisans, ravished with delight, asked\nhim where he had learned that divine whistle.\n\n\"In paradise, whence I have come direct,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nThen, speaking to the man who never stopped braying and pointing with\nhis finger for mockery:\n\n\"Why do you stay there on your boat, rascal? Do you not dare to come\nto land and mock at us and our steeds?\"\n\n\"Do you not dare?\" said Lamme.\n\n\"Hee haw! hee haw!\" went the boatman. \"Masters, donkeys, playing the\ndonkey, come up on my boat.\"\n\n\"Do as I do,\" said Ulenspiegel in a low voice to Lamme.\n\nAnd speaking to the boatman:\n\n\"If you are the Stercke Pier, I, I am Thyl Ulenspiegel. And these\ntwain are our asses, Jef and Jan, who can bray better than you, for\nit is their native tongue. As for going up on your rickety planks, we\nhave no mind to it. Your boat is like a tub; every time a wave strikes\nit it goes back, and it can only move like the crabs, sideways.\"\n\n\"Aye, like the crabs!\" said Lamme.\n\nThen the boatman, speaking to Lamme:\n\n\"What are you muttering between your teeth, lump of bacon?\"\n\nLamme, becoming furious, said:\n\n\"Evil Christian, who reproached me with my infirmity, know that my\nbacon is my own and comes from my good food; while thou, old rusty\nnail, thou livest but on old red herrings, candle wicks, skins of\nstockfish, to judge from thy scrawny beef that can be seen sticking\nthrough the holes in thy breeches.\"\n\n\"They'll be giving each other a stiff drubbing,\" said the men, women,\nand artisans, delighted and full of curiosity.\n\n\"Hee haw! hee haw!\" went the boatman.\n\n\"Do not throw stones,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nThe boatman said a word in the ear of the lad hee-hawing beside him\non the boat, and with the help of a boat hook, which he handled\ndexterously, came to the bank. When he was quite close, he said,\nstanding proudly upright:\n\n\"My baes asks if you dare to come on board his boat and wage battle\nwith him with fist and foot. These goodmen and goodwives will be\nwitnesses.\"\n\n\"We will,\" said Ulenspiegel with much dignity.\n\n\"We accept the combat,\" said Lamme with great stateliness.\n\nIt was noon; the workmen, navvies, paviours, ship-makers, their wives\narmed with their husbands' luncheons, the children that came to see\ntheir fathers refresh themselves with beans or boiled meat, all laughed\nand clapped their hands at the idea of a battle at hand, gaily hoping\nthat one or the other of the combatants would have a broken head or\nwould fall into the river all in pieces for their delectation.\n\n\"My son,\" said Lamme in a low voice, \"he will throw us into the water.\"\n\n\"Let yourself be thrown,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"The big man is afraid,\" said the crowd of workmen.\n\nLamme, still sitting on his ass, turned on them and looked wrathfully\nat them, but they hooted him.\n\n\"Let us go on the boat,\" said Lamme, \"they will see if I am afraid.\"\n\nAt these words he was hooted again, and Ulenspiegel said:\n\n\"Let us go on the boat.\"\n\nAlighting from their asses, they threw the bridles to the boy who\npatted the donkeys in friendly fashion, and led them where he saw\nthistles growing.\n\nThen Ulenspiegel took the boat hook, made Lamme get into the dinghy,\nsculled along towards the boat, where by the help of a rope he climbed\nup, preceded by Lamme, sweating and blowing hard.\n\nWhen he was upon the bridge of the vessel, Ulenspiegel stooped down\nas though he meant to lace up his boots, and said a few words to the\nboatman, who smiled and looked at Lamme. Then he roared a thousand\ninsults at him, calling him rascal, stuffed with guilty fat, gaol seed,\npap-eter, eater of pap, and saying: \"Big whale, how many hogsheads\nof oil do you give when you are bled?\"\n\nAll at once, without answering him, Lamme hurled himself on him like a\nwild bull, flung him down, struck him with all his might, but did him\nlittle harm because of the fat pithlessness of his arms. The boatman,\nwhile pretending to struggle, let him do as he would, and Ulenspiegel\nsaid: \"This rascal will pay for liquor.\"\n\nThe men, women, and workmen, who from the bank looked on at the battle,\nsaid: \"Who would have imagined that this big man was so impetuous?\"\n\nAnd they clapped their hands while Lamme struck like a deaf man. But\nthe boatman took care for nothing except to save his face. Suddenly\nLamme was seen with his knee on Stercke Pier's breast, holding him\nby the throat with one hand and raising the other to strike.\n\n\"Cry for mercy,\" he said in fury, \"or I will drive you through the\nribs of your tub!\"\n\nThe boatman, coughing to show that he could not cry out, asked for\nmercy with his hand.\n\nThen Lamme was seen generously lifting up his enemy, who was soon\non his feet, and turning his back on the spectators, put out his\ntongue at Ulenspiegel, who was bursting with laughter to see Lamme,\nproudly shaking the feather in his cap, walking up and down the boat\nin mighty triumph.\n\nAnd the men, women, lads, and lasses, who were on the bank, applauded\nwith all their might, saying: \"Hurrah for the conqueror of Stercke\nPier! He is a man of iron. Did ye see how he thumped him with his fist\nand how he stretched him on his back with a blow from his head? There\nthey are, going to drink now to make peace. Stercke Pier is coming\nup from the hold with wine and sausages.\"\n\nIn very deed, Stercke Pier had come up with two tankards and a great\nquart of white Meuse wine. And Lamme and he had made peace. And Lamme,\nall gay and jolly because of his triumph, because of the wine and the\nsausages, asked him, pointing to an iron chimney that was disgorging a\nblack thick smoke, what were the fricassees he was making in his hold.\n\n\"War cookery,\" replied Stercke Pier, smiling.\n\nThe crowd of artisans, women, and children being dispersed to go back\nto their work or to their homes, the rumour ran speedily from mouth\nto mouth that a great fat man, mounted on an ass and accompanied by\na little pilgrim, also mounted on an ass, was stronger than Samson\nand that care must be taken not to offend him.\n\nLamme drank and looked at the boatman with a conquering air.\n\nThe other said suddenly:\n\n\"Your donkeys are tired of being over yonder.\"\n\nThen, bringing the boat up against the quay, he got out on the earth,\ntook one of the asses by the hind legs and the forelegs, and carrying\nhim as Jesus carried the lamb, set it down on the bridge of the\nboat. Then having done the same with the other one without so much\nas drawing a quicker breath, he said:\n\n\"Let us drink.\"\n\nThe lad leaped on the bridge.\n\nAnd they drank. Lamme, all in a maze, no longer knew if it was himself,\nnative of Damme, who had beaten this strong man, and he no longer dared\nto look at him, save by stealth, without any triumphing, fearing that\nhe might take a notion to lay hold of him as he had done with the\ndonkeys and throw him alive into the Meuse, for spite at his overthrow.\n\nBut the boatman, smiling, invited him gaily to drink again, and\nLamme recovered from his fright and looked on him once more with\nvictorious assurance.\n\nAnd the boatman and Ulenspiegel laughed.\n\nIn the meanwhile, the donkeys, dumbfounded to find themselves on a\nfloor that was not the cows' floor, as the peasants call dry land,\nhad hung their heads, laid back their ears, and dared not drink for\nfear. The boatman went off to fetch them one of the pecks of corn he\ngave the horses that towed his boat, buying it himself so as not to\nbe cheated by the drivers in the price of fodder.\n\nWhen the donkeys saw the grain they murmured paternosters of the jaw\nwhile staring at the deck of the boat in melancholy fashion and not\ndaring to move a hoof for fear of slipping.\n\nThereupon the boatman said to Lamme and to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Let us go into the kitchen.\"\n\n\"A war kitchen, but you may go down into it without fear, my\nconqueror.\"\n\n\"I am nowise afraid, and I follow you,\" said Lamme.\n\nThe lad took the tiller.\n\nGoing down they saw everywhere bags of grain, of beans, peas, carrots,\nand other vegetables.\n\nThe boatman then said to them, opening the door of a small forge:\n\n\"Since ye are men of valiant heart and know the cry of the lark,\nthe bird of the free, and the warrior clarion of the cock, and the\nbraying of the ass, the gentle worker, I am minded to show you my\nwar kitchen. This little forge you will find such an one in most\nMeuse boats. No one can be suspicious of it, for it serves to mend\nand repair the ironwork of the vessels; but what all do not possess\nis the goodly vegetables contained in these cupboards.\"\n\nThen removing some stones that covered the floor of the hold, he\nraised a few planks, and pulled up a fine sheaf of musket barrels,\nand lifting it as if it had been a feather, he put it back in its\nplace; then he showed them lance heads, halberds, sword blades;\nbags of bullets, bags of powder.\n\n\"Long live the Beggar!\" said he; \"here are beans and their sauce,\nthe musket stocks are legs of mutton, the salads are these halberd\nheads, and these musket barrels are ox shins for the soup of\nfreedom. Long live the Beggar! Where am I to take this victual?\" he\nasked Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"To Nim\u00e9guen, where you will enter with your boat still more heavily\nladen, with real vegetables, brought you by the peasants, which you\nwill take on board at Etsen, at Stephansweert, and at Ruremonde. And\nthey, too, will sing like the lark, the bird of the free; you shall\nanswer with the warlike clarion of the cock. You are to go to the\nhouse of Doctor Pontus, who lives beside the Nieuwe-Waal; you are\nto tell him you are coming to the city with vegetables, but that\nyou fear the drought. While the peasants go to the market to sell\nthe vegetables at a price too dear for any to buy, he will tell you\nwhat you are to do with your weapons. I think, too, that he will\ndirect you to pass, not without danger, by the Wahal, the Meuse, or\nthe Rhine, exchanging vegetables for nets for sale, so that you may\nwander with the Harlingen fishing boats, where there are many sailors\nthat know the lark's song; skirt the coast by the Waden, and get to\nthe Lauwer-Zee; exchange the nets for iron and lead; give costumes\nof Marken, Vlieland, and Ameland to your peasants; remain awhile on\nthe coasts, fishing and salting down your fish to keep it and not to\nsell it, for to drink cool and make war on salt is a lawful thing.\"\n\n\"Wherefore, let us drink,\" said the boatman.\n\nAnd they went up on the deck.\n\nBut Lamme, falling into melancholy:\n\n\"Master boatman,\" said he, suddenly, \"you have here in your forge\na little fire so bright that for certain one might cook with it the\nmost delicious of hotpots. My throat is thirsty for soup.\"\n\n\"I will refresh you,\" said the man.\n\nAnd speedily he served him a rich soup, in which he had boiled a\nthick slice of salt ham.\n\nWhen Lamme had swallowed a few spoonfuls, he said to the boatman:\n\n\"My throat is peeling, my tongue is burning: this is no hotpot.\"\n\n\"'Cool drink and salt war', it was written,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\nThen the boatman filled up the tankards, and said:\n\n\"I drink to the lark, the bird of freedom.\"\n\nUlenspiegel said:\n\n\"I drink to the cock, blowing the clarion of war.\"\n\nLamme said:\n\n\"I drink to my wife; may she never be athirst, the poor darling.\"\n\n\"You are to go as far as Emden by the North Sea,\" said Ulenspiegel\nto the boatman. \"Emden is a refuge for us.\"\n\n\"The sea is wide,\" said the boatman.\n\n\"Wide for the battle,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"God is with us,\" said the boatman.\n\n\"Who then shall be against us?\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"When do you depart?\" said he.\n\n\"Immediately,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Good voyage and a following wind. Here are powder and bullets.\" And\nkissing them, he brought them ashore, after carrying the two donkeys\non his neck and shoulders like lambs.\n\nUlenspiegel and Lamme having mounted them, they started for Li\u00e9ge.\n\n\"My son,\" said Lamme, as they went on their way, \"how did that man,\nso strong as he is, allow himself to be so cruelly thumped by me?\"\n\n\"So that everywhere we go,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"terror may precede\nyou. That will be a better escort to us than twenty landsknechts. Who\nwould henceforth dare to attack Lamme the mighty, the conqueror;\nLamme the bull without peer, who with his head, before the eyes and\nto the knowledge of everyone, overthrew the Stercke Pier, Peter the\nStrong, who carries asses like lambs and lifts with one shoulder a\ncart of beer barrels? Everyone knows you here already; you are Lamme\nthe terrible, Lamme the invincible, and I walk in the shadow of your\nprotection. Everyone will know you along the way we are to go, no\none will dare to look on you with an unfriendly eye, and considering\nthe great valour of mankind, you will find nothing on your path but\nlouting, salutations, homage, and venerations offered to the might\nof your redoubtable fist.\"\n\n\"You speak well, my son,\" said Lamme, drawing himself up in his saddle.\n\n\"And I speak the truth,\" replied Ulenspiegel. \"Do you see these\ncurious faces in the first houses of this village? They are pointing\nthe finger, showing to one another Lamme, the terrific conqueror. Do\nyou see these men that look at you with envy and these poor cowards\nthat doff their kerchiefs! Reply to their salutation, Lamme, my dear;\ndisdain not the poor weak common herd. See the children know your\nname and repeat it with awe and fear.\"\n\nAnd Lamme passed by, proud and stately, saluting to the right and to\nthe left like a king. And the word of his prowess followed him from\nburg to burg, from city to city, to Li\u00e9ge, Choquier, to Neuville,\nVesin, and Namur which they avoided because of the three preachers.\n\nThey went on thus a long time, following up rivers, streams, and\ncanals. And everywhere to the lark's song answered the crowing of\nthe cock. And everywhere for the work of liberty men founded forges\nand furbished the weapons that went away on the ships that skirted\nalong the coasts.\n\nAnd they passed the tolls in casks, in cases, in baskets.\n\nAnd there were found always good folk to receive them and to conceal\nthem in a sure place, with powder and bullets, until the hour of God.\n\nAnd Lamme wending his way with Ulenspiegel, still preceded by his\nvictorious reputation, began himself to believe in his great strength,\nand becoming proud and bellicose, he let his hair grow long. And\nUlenspiegel christened him \"Lamme the Lion.\"\n\nBut Lamme did not hold steadfast in the design because of the\nirritation of the young growth on the fourth day. And he had the razor\npassed over his conquering face, which appeared to Ulenspiegel once\nmore, round and full like a sun, lit up with the flame of good victual.\n\nIn this wise they came to Stockem.\n\n\n\n\n\nXXVIII\n\nAbout nightfall, having left their asses at Stockem, they entered\ninto the city of Antwerp.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:\n\n\"Lo this great city; here the whole world piles up its riches: gold,\nsilver, spices, gilded leather, Gobelin tapestry cloth, stuffs\nof velvet, wool, and silk; beans, peas, grain, meat, and flour,\nsalted hides, Louvain wines, wines of Namur, of Luxembourg, Li\u00e9ge,\nLandtwyn from Brussels and from Aerschot, Buley wines whose vineyard\nis beside the Plante gate at Namur, Rhine wines, wines from Spain\nand Portugal; grape oil from Aerschot that they call Landolium; wines\nof Burgundy, Malvoisie and so many more. And the quays are cumbered\nwith merchandise.\n\n\"These riches of earth and of human toil bring into this place the\nmost beautiful light ladies that are.\"\n\n\"You are growing dreamy,\" said Lamme.\n\nUlenspiegel answered:\n\n\"I shall find the Seven among them. It was told me:\n\n\n    In ruins, blood and tears, seek!\n\n\nWhat then is there that causeth more of ruin than light wenches? Is it\nnot in their company that poor witless men lose their goodly carolus,\nshining and chinking; their jewels, chains, and rings, and come away\nwithout a doublet, ragged and despoiled, even without their linen;\nwhile the girls grow fat upon their spoils? Where is the red clear\nblood that used to course in their veins? 'Tis leek juice now. Or else,\nindeed, to enjoy their sweet and lovely bodies do they not fight with\nknife, with dagger, with sword, without pity? The corpses borne away,\npale, and bloody, are corpses of the love-distraught. When the father\nscolds and remains on his chair with forbidding looks; when his white\nhairs seem whiter and stiffer; when from his dry eyes, wherein burns\nthe grief at a son's loss, the tears refuse to flow; when the mother,\nsilent and pale as a dead woman, weeps as if she saw nothing before\nher now save all the sorrows that this world holdeth, who is it makes\nthose tears to fall? The gay ladies that love but themselves and money,\nand hold the world, thinking or working or philosophizing, fastened\nto the end of their golden girdle. Aye, it is there the Seven are,\nand we shall go, Lamme, among the girls. Perchance thy wife is among\nthem; that will be a double sweep of the net.\"\n\n\"I am willing,\" said Lamme.\n\nIt was then in the month of June, towards the end of the summer,\nwhen the sun was already reddening the leaves on the chestnuts, when\nthe little birds sing in the trees and there is never a mite so small\nthat he does not chirp for pleasure to be so warm in the grass.\n\nLamme wandered beside Ulenspiegel through the streets of Antwerp,\nhanging his head and dragging his body along like a house.\n\n\"Lamme,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"you are plunged in melancholy; do you not\nknow that nothing is worse for the skin; if you persist in your grief,\nyou will lose it in strips. And it will be a fine word to hear when\nthey say of you: 'Lamme the flayed.'\"\n\n\"I am hungry,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"Come and eat,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd they went together to the Old Stairs, where they ate choesels\nand drank dobbel-cuyt as much as they could carry.\n\nAnd Lamme wept no more.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel said:\n\n\"Blessed be the good beer that maketh thy soul all sunny! Laughest\nand shakest thy big paunch. How I love to see thee dance of the\nmerry entrails.\"\n\n\"My son,\" said Lamme, \"they would dance far more if I had the good\nluck to find my wife again.\"\n\n\"Let us go and seek for her,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nThey came thus to the quarter of the Lower Scheldt.\n\n\"Look,\" said Ulenspiegel to Lamme, \"see that little house all made of\nwood, with handsome windows, well opened and glazed with little square\npanes; consider these yellow curtains and that red lamp. There, my son,\nbehind four casks of bruinbier, of uitzet, of dobbel-cuyt, and Amboise\nwine, sits a beauteous baesine of fifty years or upwards. Every year\nshe lived gave her a fresh layer of bacon. Upon one of the casks\nshines a candle, and there is a lantern hung to the beams of the\nroof. It is bright and dark there, dark for love, bright for payment.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Lamme, \"this is a convent of the devil's nuns, and this\nbaesine is its abbess.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"'tis she that leadeth in Beelzebub's name,\ndown the path of sin fifteen lovely girls of amorous life, which find\nwith her shelter and food, but it is forbidden to them to sleep there.\"\n\n\"Do you know this convent?\" said Lamme.\n\n\"I am going to look for your wife therein. Come.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Lamme, \"I have taken thought and will not go in.\"\n\n\"Wilt thou let thy friend expose himself all alone in the midst of\nthese Astartes?\"\n\n\"Let him not go there,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"But if he must go in to find the Seven and your wife?\" replied\nUlenspiegel.\n\n\"I would rather sleep,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"Come on then,\" said Ulenspiegel, opening the door and thrusting\nLamme in front of him. \"See, the baesine stays behind her casks,\nbetween two candles; the chamber is large, with a roof of blackened\noak with smoked beams. All around reign benches, lame-legged\ntables covered with glasses, quart pots, goblets, tankards, jugs,\nflasks, bottles, and other implements of drinking. In the middle are\nstill more tables and chairs whereon are enthroned odds and ends,\nthe which are women's capes, gilded belts, velvet shoes, bagpipes,\nfifes, shawms. In a corner is a ladder leading to the upper story. A\nlittle bald hunchback plays on a clavecin mounted on glass feet that\nmake the sound of the instrument grating. Dance, my fat lad. Fifteen\nlovely ladies are sitting, some on the tables, some on the chairs,\na leg here, a leg there, bending, upright, leaning on an elbow,\nthrown back, lying on their back or on their side, at their pleasure,\nclad in white, in red, their arms bare like their shoulders, too,\nand their bosom down to the waist. There are some of every kind;\nchoose! For some the light of the candles, caressing their fair\nhair, leaves in the shadow their blue eyes, of which nothing can be\nseen but the gleaming of their liquid fire. Others, looking at the\nceiling, sigh to the viol some German ballade. Some round, brown,\nplump, brazen-faced, are drinking from full tankards Amboise wine, and\nshow their round arms, bare to the shoulder, their half-opened dress,\nwhence come out the apples of their breasts, and shamelessly talk with\ntheir mouths full, one after the other or all at once. Listen to them.\"\n\n\"A straw for money to-day! it is love we must have, love at our\nown choice,\" said the lovely ladies, \"child's love, youth's love,\nwhoever pleases us, and no paying.\"--\"Yesterday was the day when one\npaid, to-day is the day when one loves!\" \"Who so would fain drink\nat our lips, they are still moist from the bottle. Wine and kisses,\nit is a whole feast!\" \"A straw for widows that lie all alone!\" \"We\nare girls! 'Tis the day of charity to-day. To the young, the strong,\nand the comely, we will open our arms. Something to drink!\" \"Darling,\nis it for the battle of love that your heart is beating the tambourine\nin your breast! What a pendulum! 'Tis the clock of kisses. When\nwill they come, full hearts and empty purses? Do they not scent out\ndainty adventures? What is the difference between a young Beggar\nand Monsieur the Markgrave? Monsieur pays in florins and the young\nBeggar in caresses. Long live the Beggar! Who will go and wake up\nthe graveyards?\"\n\nThus spake the good, the ardent, and the gay among the ladies of\namorous life.\n\nBut there were others of them with narrow faces, lean shoulders, who\nmade of their bodies a shop for savings, and liard by liard harvested\nthe price of their thin flesh. And these were fuming among themselves:\n\"It is very foolish for us to refuse payment in this fatiguing trade,\nfor these ridiculous whimsies running in the heads of girls that\nare wild over men. If they have a cantle of the moon in their heads,\nwe have none, and prefer not to have to drag around in our old age\nlike them, in rags in the gutter, but to be paid since we are for\nsale. A straw for this gratis! Men are ugly, stinking, grumbling,\ngreedy, drunken. It is nothing but them that turns poor women to ill!\"\n\nBut the young and beautiful ones did not hear these speeches, and\nall in their pleasure and drinkings said: \"Do you hear the passing\nbells ringing in Notre Dame? We are on fire! Who will go and waken\nthe graveyards?\"\n\nLamme seeing so many women all at once, brunette and fair, fresh and\nwithered, was ashamed; lowering his eyes he cried out: \"Ulenspiegel,\nwhere are you?\"\n\n\"He is dead and gone, my friend,\" said a great stout girl taking hold\nof his arm.\n\n\"Dead and gone?\" said Lamme.\n\n\"Aye,\" said she, \"three hundred years ago, in the company of Jacobus\nde Coster van Maerlandt.\"\n\n\"Let me go,\" said Lamme, \"and do not pinch me. Ulenspiegel, where\nare you? Come and save your friend! I am going away immediately if\nyou do not let me go.\"\n\n\"You will not go away,\" they said.\n\n\"Ulenspiegel,\" said Lamme, again, piteously, \"where are you, my\nson? Madame, do not pull my hair in this way; it is not a wig, I\nassure you. Help! Do you not think my ears red enough, without your\nbringing the blood to them besides? There is that other one filliping\nme all the time. You are hurting me! Alas! what are they rubbing my\nface with now? A looking glass! I am black as the jaws of an oven. I\nwill be angry in a minute if you do not stop; it is ill done of you\nto torment a poor man like this. Let me go! When you have tugged me\nby my breeches to right, to left, from all sides, and have made me\ngo like a shuttle, will you be any the fatter for it? Aye, I shall\nget angry without a doubt.\"\n\n\"He will get angry,\" said they, mocking; \"he will get angry, the good\nman. Laugh rather, and sing us a love lay.\"\n\n\"I will sing one of blows, if you wish, but let me alone.\"\n\n\"Whom do you love here?\"\n\n\"Nobody, neither you nor the others. I will complain to the magistrates\nand he will have you whipped.\"\n\n\"Oh, indeed!\" they said. \"Whipped! And suppose we were to kiss you\nby main force before this whipping?\"\n\n\"Me?\" said Lamme.\n\n\"You,\" said they all.\n\nAnd thereupon the lovely and the ugly, the fresh and the faded, the\nbrown and the fair all rushed upon Lamme, flung his bonnet into the\nair, and his cloak, too, and fell to caressing him, kissing him on\nthe cheek, the nose, the back, with all their might.\n\nThe baesine laughed between her candles.\n\n\"Help!\" cried Lamme; \"help, Ulenspiegel; sweep away all this\nrubbish. Let me go. I want none of your kisses; I am married, God's\nblood! and keep all for my wife.\"\n\n\"Married,\" said they; \"but your wife has over much: a man of your\ncorpulence. Give us a little. Faithful woman, 'tis well and good;\na faithful man, he is a capon. God keep you! you must choose, or we\nshall whip you in our turn.\"\n\n\"I will do no such thing,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"Choose,\" said they.\n\n\"No,\" said he.\n\n\"Will you have me?\" said a pretty, fair girl: \"See, I am gentle,\nand I love whoever loves me.\"\n\n\"Let me alone,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"Will you have me?\" said a delicious girl, who had black hair, eyes\nand complexion all brown, and in everything else made to perfection\nby the angels.\n\n\"I don't like gingerbread,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"And what of me, would you not take me?\" said a tall girl, who had a\nbrow almost covered by her hair, heavy eyebrows joined together, big\ndrowned eyes, lips thick as eels and all red, and red, too, of face,\nneck, and shoulders.\n\n\"I don't like,\" said Lamme, \"burnt bricks.\"\n\n\"Take me,\" said a girl of sixteen with a little squirrel face.\n\n\"I don't like nut crunchers,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"We must whip him,\" said they, \"with what? Fine whips with a lash of\ndried hide. A sound lashing. The toughest skin cannot resist it. Take\nten of them. Carters' and donkey drivers' whips.\"\n\n\"Help! Ulenspiegel!\" cried Lamme.\n\nBut Ulenspiegel made no answer.\n\n\"Ye have a bad heart,\" said Lamme, seeking his friend on every side.\n\nThe whips were brought; two of the girls set to work to strip Lamme\nof his doublet.\n\n\"Alas!\" said he; \"my poor fat, that I had so much trouble to make,\nthey will doubtless lift it off with their keen whips. But, pitiless\nfemales, my fat will be no use to you, not even to make sauces.\"\n\nThey replied:\n\n\"We shall make candles with it. Is it nothing to see clear without\npaying for it! She that will henceforth say that out of the whip comes\nforth candle will seem mad to everybody. We will uphold it to the\ndeath, and win more than one wager. Steep the rods in vinegar. There,\nyour doublet is off. The hour is striking at Saint Jacques! Nine\no'clock. At the last stroke of the clock, if you have not made your\nchoice, we shall strike.\"\n\nLamme, paralyzed, said:\n\n\"Have pity and compassion upon me; I have sworn faithfulness\nto my poor wife and will keep it, although she left me in evil\nfashion. Ulenspiegel, dear friend, help!\"\n\nBut Ulenspiegel did not show himself.\n\n\"See me,\" said Lamme to the light ladies, \"see me at your knees. Is\nthere a humbler posture? Is it not enough to say that I honour your\ngreat beauties like the very saints? Happy is he that, not being\nmarried, can enjoy your charms! 'Tis paradise, without doubt; but do\nnot beat me, if you please.\"\n\nSuddenly the baesine, who remained between her two candles, spoke in\na strong and threatening voice:\n\n\"Good women and girls,\" said she, \"I take my oath on my great devil\nthat if, in a moment, you have not, by laughter and gentle ways,\nbrought this man to a good mind, that is to say into your bed, I will\ngo fetch the night watch and have you all whipped instead of him. Ye\ndo not deserve to be called girls of amorous life if in vain you\nhave free mouth, wanton hand, and flaming eyes to excite the males,\nas do the females of the glow-worms that have their lanterns but to\nthis end. And you shall be whipped without mercy for your simpleness.\"\n\nAt that word the girls trembled and Lamme became joyful.\n\n\"Now, then, good women, what news bring you from the land of sharp\nthongs? I will myself go and fetch the watch. They will do their duty,\nand I shall help them with it. It will give me great pleasure.\"\n\nBut then a pretty little girl of fifteen threw herself at Lamme's\nknees:\n\n\"Messire,\" said she, \"you see me here before you, humbly resigned;\nif you do not deign to choose me from among us, I must needs be\nbeaten for you, monsieur. And the baesine there will put me into a\nfoul cellar, under the Scheldt, where the water oozes from the wall,\nand where I shall have but black bread to eat.\"\n\n\"Will she verily be beaten for me, Madame baesine,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"Till the blood runs,\" replied she.\n\nLamme then, considering the girl, said: \"I see thee fresh, perfumed,\nthy shoulder coming out from thy robe like a great petal of a white\nrose; I would not have this lovely skin under which the blood flows\nso young, suffer under the whip, nor that those eyes bright with the\nfire of youth should weep for the anguish of the strokes, nor that the\ncold of the prison should make thy body shiver, thy body like a love\nfay. And so I had rather choose thee than know that thou wert beaten.\"\n\nThe girl took him away. So sinned he, as he did all things in his life,\nthrough kindness of heart.\n\nMeanwhile, Ulenspiegel and a tall handsome brown girl with curling\nwaving hair were standing before one another. The girl, without\nsaying a word, was looking at Ulenspiegel coquettishly and seemed\nnot to wish to have anything to do with him.\n\n\"Love me,\" said he.\n\n\"Love thee,\" said she, \"wild lover who lovest only at thine own hour?\"\n\nUlenspiegel answered: \"The bird that passes above thy head sings his\nsong and flies away. And so with me, sweetheart: wilt thou that we\nsing together?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said she, \"a song of laughter and of tears.\"\n\nAnd the girl flung herself on Ulenspiegel's neck.\n\nSuddenly, as both were happy in the arms of their darlings, lo! there\ncame into the house, to the sound of fife and drum, and jostling,\npushing, singing, whistling, crying, shouting, bawling, a gay company\nof meesevangers, who at Antwerp are titmouse catchers. They were\ncarrying bags and cages full of these little birds, and the owls that\nhad helped them in the sport were opening wide their eyes, gilded in\nthe light.\n\nThe meesevangers were full ten in number, all red, bloated with wine\nand cervoise ale, with waggling heads, dragging their tottering legs\nand crying out in a voice so hoarse and so broken that it seemed to\nthe timid girls that they were rather listening to wild beasts in a\nwood than men in a house.\n\nHowever, as they never stopped saying, speaking singly or all at once:\n\"I would have the one I love.\" \"We are his that pleaseth us. To-morrow\nto the rich in florins! To-day to the rich in love!\" the meesevangers\nreplied: \"Florins we have and love as well; to us then the light\nladies. He that draws back is a capon. These are tits, and we are\nsportsmen. Rescue! Brabant for the good duke!\"\n\nBut the women said, laughing loudly: \"Fie! the ugly muzzles that think\nto eat us! 'Tis not to swine that men give sherbets. We take whom we\nplease and do not want you. Barrels of oil, bags of lard, thin nails,\nrusty blades, you stink of sweat and mud. Get out of here; you will\nbe well and duly damned without our help.\"\n\nBut the men: \"The Frenchies are dainty to-day. Disgusted ladies,\nyou can well give us what you sell to everybody.\"\n\nBut the women: \"To-morrow,\" they said, \"we will be slaves and dogs,\nand will accept you; to-day we are free women and we cast you out.\"\n\nThe men: \"Enough words,\" they cried. \"Who is thirsty? Let us pluck\nthe apples!\"\n\nAnd so saying they threw themselves upon them, without distinction of\nage or beauty. The girls, resolute in their minds, threw at their heads\nchairs, quart pots, jugs, goblets, tankards, flasks, bottles, raining\nthick as hail, wounding them, bruising them, knocking out their eyes.\n\nUlenspiegel and Lamme came down at the tumult, leaving their trembling\nlovers above at the top of the ladder. When Ulenspiegel saw these\nmen striking at the women, he took up a broom in the courtyard, tore\naway the twigs from the head, gave another to Lamme, and with them\nthey beat the meesevangers without pity.\n\nThe game seemed hard to the drunkards; thus belaboured, they stopped\nfor an instant, by which profited the thin girls who desired to sell\nthemselves and not to give, even in this great day of love voluntary\nas Nature wills it. Like snakes they glided among the injured,\ncaressed them, tended their wounds, drank wine of Amboise for them,\nand emptied so well their pouches of florins and other moneys, that\nthey had left not a single liard. Then, as the curfew was ringing,\nthey put them to the door through which Ulenspiegel and Lamme had\nalready taken their way.\n\n\n\n\n\nXXIX\n\nUlenspiegel and Lamme were marching towards Ghent and came at daybreak\nto Lokeren. The earth in the distance sweated dew; white cool mists\nglided along the meadows. Ulenspiegel, as he passed before a forge,\nwhistled like the lark, the bird of liberty. And straightway appeared\na head, tousled and white, at the door of the forge, and imitated\nthe warlike clarion of the cock in a weak voice.\n\nUlenspiegel said to Lamme:\n\n\"This is the smitte Wasteele, who forges by day spades, mattocks,\nplough shares, hammering the iron when it is hot to fashion with\nit fine gratings for the choirs of churches, and oftentimes, at\nnight, making and furbishing arms for the soldiers of freedom of\nconscience. He has not won the looks of health at this game, for he\nis pale as a ghost, sad as a damned soul, and so lean that his bones\npoke holes in his skin. He has not yet gone to rest, having doubtless\ntoiled all night long.\"\n\n\"Come in, both of you,\" said the smitte Wasteele, \"and lead your\nasses into the meadow behind the house.\"\n\nThis being done, Lamme and Ulenspiegel being in the forge, the smitte\nWasteele took down into a cellar of his house all the swords he had\nfurbished and the lance heads he had cast during the night, and made\nready the day's work for his men.\n\nLooking at Ulenspiegel with lack-lustre eye, he said to him:\n\n\"What news do you bring me from the Silent?\"\n\n\"The prince has been driven out of the Low Countries with his\narmy because of the misconduct of his mercenaries, who shout 'Geld,\nGeld! money, money!' when they ought to fight. He has gone away towards\nFrance with the faithful soldiers, his brother Count Ludovic and the\nDuke of Deux-Ponts, to help the King of Navarre and the Huguenots;\nfrom thence he passed over into Germany, to Dillenbourg, where many\nthat have fled from the Low Countries are with him. You must send\nhim arms and what money you have collected, while we, we shall ply\nthe task of free men upon the sea.\"\n\n\"I shall do what is to be done,\" said the smitte Wasteele; \"I have\narms and nine thousand florins. But did you not come riding on asses?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" they said.\n\n\"And have you not, on your way, heard news of three preachers, slain\nand stripped and thrown into a hole among the rocks of the Meuse?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Ulenspiegel, with the utmost boldness, \"these three\npreachers were three spies of the duke's, assassins, paid to kill the\nprince of freedom. Together we two, Lamme and I, sent them from life\nto death. Their money is ours and their papers likewise. We shall\ntake what we need from it for our journey; the rest we shall give to\nthe prince.\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel, opening his own doublet and Lamme's, pulled out from\nthem papers and parchments. The smitte Wasteele having read them:\n\n\"They contain,\" he said, \"plans of battle and conspiracy. I will have\nthem sent to the prince, and he will be told that Ulenspiegel and\nLamme Goedzak, his trusty vagabonds, saved his noble life. I will\nhave your asses sold that you may not be recognized from your mounts.\"\n\nUlenspiegel asked the smitte Wasteele if the sheriff's court at Namur\nhad already set their catchpolls on their track.\n\n\"I will tell you what I know,\" replied Wasteele. \"A smith of Namur,\na stout reformer, passed through here the other day, under pretext\nof asking me to help him with the screens, weathercocks, and other\nironwork of a castle that is to be built near the Plante. The usher\nof the sheriff's court told him that his masters had already met,\nand that a tavern keeper had been summoned, because he lived a few\nhundred fathom from the place where the murder had taken place. Asked\nif he had seen the murderers or not, or any he might suspect as\nsuch, he had replied: 'I saw country folk men and women travelling\non donkeys, asking me for something to drink and staying seated on\ntheir mounts, or getting down to drink in my house, beer for the men,\nhydromel for the women and girls. I saw two bold rustics that talked\nof shortening Messire of Orange by a foot.' And so saying, the host,\nwhistling, imitated the sound of a knife going into the flesh of the\nneck. 'By the Steel-wind,' he said, 'I will speak with you in private,\nbeing empowered to do so.' He spoke and was released. From that time\nthe councils of justice have without doubt sent despatches to their\nsubordinate councils. The host said he had seen only country men and\ncountry women riding upon asses; it will therefore follow that pursuit\nwill be directed against all persons that may be found bestriding a\ndonkey. And the prince hath need of you, my children.\"\n\n\"Sell the asses,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"and keep the price for the\nprince's treasury.\"\n\nThe asses were sold.\n\n\"You must now,\" said Wasteele, \"have each a trade free and independent\nof the guilds; do you know how to make bird cages and mouse traps?\"\n\n\"I have made such long ago,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"And thou?\" asked Wasteele of Lamme.\n\n\"I will sell eete-koeken and olie-koeken; these are pancakes and\nballs of flour cooked in oil.\"\n\n\"Follow me; here are cages and mouse traps all ready; the tools and\ncopper filigree work also which are needed to mend them and to make\nothers. They were brought me by one of my spies. This is for you,\nUlenspiegel. As for you, Lamme, here is a little stove and a bellows;\nI will give you flour, butter, and oil to make the eete-koeken and\nthe olie-koeken.\"\n\n\"He will eat them,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"When shall we make the first ones?\" asked Lamme.\n\nWasteele replied:\n\n\"First ye shall help me for a night or two; I cannot finish my great\ntask alone by myself.\"\n\n\"I am hungry,\" said Lamme, \"can one eat here?\"\n\n\"There is bread and cheese,\" said Wasteele.\n\n\"No butter?\" asked Lamme.\n\n\"No butter,\" said Wasteele.\n\n\"Have you beer or wine?\" asked Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"I never drink them,\" he answered, \"but I will go in het Pelicaen,\nclose by here, and fetch some for you if you wish.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Lamme, \"and bring us some ham.\"\n\n\"I will do as you wish,\" said Wasteele, looking at Lamme with great\ndisdain.\n\nAll the same he brought dobbel-clauwert and a ham. And Lamme, full\nof joy, ate enough for five.\n\nAnd he said:\n\n\"When do we set to work?\"\n\n\"To-night,\" said Wasteele; \"but stay in the forge and do not be afraid\nof my workmen. They are of the Reformed faith like yourselves.\"\n\n\"That is well,\" said Lamme.\n\nBy night, the curfew having rung and the doors being shut, Wasteele,\nmaking Ulenspiegel and Lamme help him, going down and bringing up\nfrom his cellar heavy bundles of weapons:\n\n\"Here,\" he said, \"are twenty arquebuses to mend, thirty lance heads\nto furbish, and lead for fifteen hundred bullets to melt down; you\nshall help me with it.\"\n\n\"With all my hands,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"and why have I not four to\nserve you?\"\n\n\"Lamme will help us,\" said Wasteele.\n\n\"Aye,\" replied Lamme, piteously, and falling with drowsiness through\nexcess of drink and food.\n\n\"You shall melt the lead,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"I will melt the lead,\" said Lamme.\n\nLamme, melting his lead and running his bullets, kept looking with a\nsavage eye at the smitte Wasteele who was driving him to keep awake\nwhen he was dropping with sleep. He ran his bullets with a wordless\nfury, having a great longing to pour the molten lead on the head of\nWasteele the smith. But he controlled himself. Towards midnight, his\nrage getting the better of him at the same time as excess of fatigue,\nhe addressed him thus in a hissing voice, while the smitte Wasteele\nwith Ulenspiegel was patiently furbishing musket barrels, muskets,\nand lance heads:\n\n\"There you are,\" said Lamme, \"meager, pale, and wretched, believing\nin the good faith of princes and the great ones of the earth, and\ndisdaining, in an excessive zeal, your body, your noble body that you\nare leaving to perish in misery and humiliation. It was not for this\nthat God made it with Dame Nature. Do you know that our soul which\nis the breath of life, needs, that it may breathe, beans, beef, beer,\nwine, ham, sausages, chitterlings, and rest; you, you live on bread,\nwater, and watching.\"\n\n\"Whence have you this talkative flow?\" asked Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"He knows not what he says,\" answered Wasteele, sadly.\n\nBut Lamme growing angry:\n\n\"I know better than you. I say that we are mad, I, you, and\nUlenspiegel, to wear out our eyes for all these princes and great\nones of the earth, who would laugh loudly at us if they saw us dying\nof weariness, losing our sleep to furbish up arms and cast bullets\nfor their service while they drink French wine and eat German capons\nfrom golden tankards and dishes of English pewter; they will never\nask whether, while we are seeking in the open wild the God by whose\ngrace they have their power, their enemies are cutting off our limbs\nwith their scythes and casting us into the well of death. They,\nin the meanwhile, who are neither Reformed, nor Calvinists, nor\nLutherans, nor Catholics, but sceptics and doubters entirely, will\nbuy or conquer principalities, will devour the wealth of the monks,\nabbeys, and convents, and will have all: virgins, wives, women and\nbona robas, and will drink from their gold cups to their perpetual\njollity, and to our everlasting foolishness, simplicity, stupidity,\nand to the seven deadly sins which they commit, O smitte Wasteele,\nunder the starveling nose of thy enthusiasm. Look upon the fields,\nthe meads, look on the harvest, the orchards, the kine, the gold\nrising out of the earth; look at the wild things in the woods, the\nbirds of the skies, delicious ortolans, delicate thrushes, wild boars'\nheads, haunches of buck venison; all is theirs, hunting, fishing,\nearth, sea, everything. And you, you live on bread and water, and we\nare killing ourselves here for them, without sleep, without eating,\nand without drinking. And when we shall be dead they will fetch our\ncarrion a kick and say to our mothers: 'Make us more of these; those\nones can do us no service now.'\"\n\nUlenspiegel laughed and said nothing. Lamme breathed hard with\nindignation, but Wasteele, speaking in a gentle voice:\n\n\"Thou speakest but lightly,\" said he. \"I live not for ham, for beer, or\nfor ortolans, but for the victory of freedom of conscience. The prince\nof freedom does even as I do. He sacrifices his wealth, his sleep\nand his happiness to drive out from the Low Countries the butchers\nand tyranny. Do as he does and try to grow thinner. 'Tis not by the\nbelly that peoples can be saved, but by proud courage and fatigues\nendured even unto death without a murmur. And now go and lie down,\nif thou art sleepy.\"\n\nBut Lamme would not, being ashamed.\n\nAnd they furbished arms and cast bullets until it was morning, and\nthus for three days.\n\nThen they departed for Ghent, by night, selling bird cages,\nmouse-traps, and olie-koekjes.\n\nAnd they stopped at Meulestee, the little town of the mills, whose\nred roofs are seen everywhere, and there they agreed to carry on their\ntrades apart and to meet each other at night before curfew in de Zwaen,\nat the Swan Inn.\n\nLamme wandered about the streets of Ghent selling olie-koekjes getting\na liking for this trade, seeking for his wife, emptying many a quart\npot and eating continually. Ulenspiegel had delivered letters from\nthe prince to Jacob Scoelap, licentiate in medicine; to Lieven Smet,\ncloth seller; to Jan Wulfschaeger, to Gillis Coorne, the scarlet dyer,\nand to Jan de Roose, tile maker, who gave him the money harvested by\nthem for the Prince, and bade him wait some days longer at Ghent and\nin the neighbourhood, and he would be given still more.\n\nThose men having been hanged later on the New Gibbet for heresy,\ntheir bodies were buried in the Gallows Field, near the Bruges Gate.\n\n\n\n\n\nXXX\n\nMeanwhile, the provost Spelle le Roux, armed with his red wand, was\nhurrying from town to town on his lean horse, everywhere setting up\nscaffolds, lighting fires of execution, digging graves to bury poor\nwomen and girls alive in them. And the King inherited.\n\nUlenspiegel being at Meulestee with Lamme, under a tree, found himself\nfull of weary lassitude. It was cold although the month was June. From\nthe skies, laden with gray clouds, there fell a fine hail.\n\n\"My son,\" said Lamme, \"you are for the past four nights shamelessly\nrunning wild, gadding after the bona robas, you go to sleep in de\nZoeten Inval, at the Sweet Fall; you will do like the man on the sign,\nfalling head foremost into a hive of bees. Vainly do I wait for you in\nde Zwaen, and I draw evil forebodings from this liquorish living. Why\ndo you not take a wife virtuously?\"\n\n\"Lamme,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"he to whom one woman is all women, and\nto whom all women are one in this gentle combat that they call love,\nmust not lightly rush upon his choice.\"\n\n\"And Nele, do you not think at all on her?\"\n\n\"Nele is at Damme, far away,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nWhile he was in this posture and the hail was falling thick, a young\nand pretty woman passed by, running and covering up her head in\nher petticoat.\n\n\"Eh,\" said she, \"dreamy one, what dost thou under that tree?\"\n\n\"I am dreaming,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"of a woman that should make me\na roof against the hail with her petticoat.\"\n\n\"Thou hast found her,\" said the woman. \"Rise up.\"\n\n\"Wilt thou leave me alone again?\" said Lamme.\n\n\"Aye,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"but go in de Zwaen, eat a leg of mutton or\ntwo, drink a dozen tankards of beer; you will sleep and you will not\nbe forlorn then.\"\n\n\"I will do that,\" said Lamme.\n\nUlenspiegel went up to the woman.\n\n\"Pick up my skirt on one side,\" said she, \"I will lift it on the other,\nand now let us run.\"\n\n\"Why run?\" asked Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Because,\" she said, \"I am fain to flee from Meulestee; the provost\nSpelle is in it with two catchpolls and he has sworn to have all the\nlight ladies whipped if they will not pay him five florins each. That\nis why I am running: run, too, and stay with me to defend me.\"\n\n\"Lamme,\" cried Ulenspiegel, \"Spelle is in Meulestee. Go off and away\nto Destelberg, to the Star of the Wise Men.\"\n\nAnd Lamme, getting up affrighted, took his belly in both hands and\nbegan to run.\n\n\"Whither is this fat hare going?\" said the girl.\n\n\"To a burrow where I shall find him again,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Let us run,\" said she, beating the ground with her foot like a\nrestive filly.\n\n\"I would fain be virtuous without running,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"What does that mean?\" asked she.\n\nUlenspiegel made answer:\n\n\"The fat hare wants me to renounce good wine, cervoise ale, and the\nfresh skin of women.\"\n\nThe girl looked at him with an ugly eye.\n\n\"Your breath is short; you must rest,\" said she.\n\n\"Rest myself? I see no shelter,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Your virtue,\" said the girl, \"will serve for a quilt.\"\n\n\"I like your petticoat better,\" said he.\n\n\"My petticoat,\" said the girl, \"would not be worthy to cover a saint\nsuch as you would fain be. Take yourself off that I may run alone.\"\n\n\"Do you not know,\" replied Ulenspiegel, \"that a dog goes swifter with\nfour feet than a man with two? And so, having four feet, we shall\nrun better.\"\n\n\"You have a lively tongue for a virtuous man.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said he.\n\n\"But,\" said she, \"I have always observed that virtue is a quiet,\nsleepy, thick, and chilly quality. It is a mask to hide grumbling\nfaces, a velvet cloak on a man of stone. I like men that have in\ntheir breast a stove well lighted with the fire of virility, which\nexciteth to valiant and gay enterprises.\"\n\n\"It was ever thus,\" replied Ulenspiegel, \"that the lovely she-devil\nspake to the glorious Saint Anthony.\"\n\nThere was an inn a score of paces from the road.\n\n\"You have spoken well,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"now you must drink well.\"\n\n\"My tongue is still cool and fresh,\" said the girl.\n\nThey went in. On a chest there slumbered a big jug nicknamed \"belly,\"\nbecause of its wide paunch.\n\nUlenspiegel said to the baes:\n\n\"Dost thou see this florin?\"\n\n\"I see it,\" said the baes.\n\n\"How many patards would thou extract from it to fill up that belly\nthere with dobbel-clauwert?\"\n\nThe baes said to him:\n\n\"With negen mannekens (nine little men), you will be clear.\"\n\n\"That,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"is six Flanders mites, and overmuch by\ntwo mites. But fill it, anyhow.\"\n\nUlenspiegel poured out a goblet for the woman, then rising up proudly\nand applying the beak of the belly to his mouth, he emptied it all\nevery drop into his throat. And it was as the noise of a cataract.\n\nThe girl, dumbfounded, said to him:\n\n\"How did you manage to put so big a belly into your lean stomach?\"\n\nWithout replying, Ulenspiegel said to the baes:\n\n\"Bring a knuckle of ham and some bread, and another full belly,\nthat we may eat and drink.\"\n\nWhich they did.\n\nWhile the girl was munching a piece of the rind he took her so subtly,\nthat she was startled, charmed, and compliant all at once.\n\nThen questioning him:\n\n\"Whence,\" she said, \"have they come to your virtue, this thirst like\na sponge, this wolf's hunger, and these amorous audacities?\"\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"Having sinned a hundred ways, I swore, as you know, to do\npenance. That lasted a whole long hour. Thinking during that hour\nupon my life that was to come, I saw myself fed meagrely on bread,\ndully refreshed with water; sadly fleeing from love; daring neither\nto move nor sneeze, for fear to commit wickedness; esteemed by all,\nfeared by each; alone like a leper; sad as a dog orphaned of his\nmaster, and after fifty years of martyrdom, ending by undergoing my\ndeath in melancholy fashion on a pallet. The penance was long enough:\nso kiss me, my darling, and let us go out from purgatory together.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said she, obeying cheerfully, \"what a good sign virtue is to\nput on the end of a pole!\"\n\nTime passed in these amorous doings; nevertheless they must needs\nrise and go, for the girl feared to see in the midst of their pleasure\nthe provost Spelle suddenly appear with his catchpolls.\n\n\"Truss up thy petticoat then,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd they ran like stags towards Destelberg, where they found Lamme\neating at the Star of the Three Wise Men.\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXI\n\nUlenspiegel often saw at Ghent, Jacob Scoelap, Lieven Smet, and Jan\nde Wulfschaeger, who gave him news of the good or bad fortune of\nthe Silent.\n\nAnd every time that Ulenspiegel came back to Destelberg, Lamme said\nto him:\n\n\"What do you bring? Good luck or bad luck?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said Ulenspiegel, \"the Silent, his brother Ludwig, the other\nchiefs and the Frenchmen were determined to go farther into France and\njoin with the Prince of Cond\u00e9. Thus they would save the poor Belgian\nfatherland and freedom of conscience. God willed it otherwise; the\nGerman reiters and landsknechts refused to go farther, and said their\noath was to go against the Duke of Alba and not against France. Having\nvainly entreated them to do their duty, the Silent was forced to take\nthem through Champagne and Lorraine as far as Strasbourg, whence they\nwent back into Germany. All has gone awry through this sudden and\nobstinate departure: the King of France, despite his contract with\nthe prince, refuses to give over the money he promised; the Queen\nof England would have sent him money to get back the town and the\ndistrict of Calais; her letters were intercepted and despatched to\nthe Cardinal at Lorraine, who forged an answer in the contrary sense.\n\n\"Thus we see melt away, like ghosts at the crowing of the cock, that\ngoodly army, our hope; but God is with us, and if the earth fail us,\nthe water will do its work. Long live the Beggar!\"\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXII\n\nThe girl came one day, all weeping, to say to Lamme and to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Spelle is allowing murderers and robbers in Meulestee to escape for\nmoney. He is putting the innocent to death. My brother Michielkin is\namong them. Alas! Let me tell you, ye will avenge him, being men. A\nvile and infamous debauchee, Pieter de Roose, an habitual seducer of\nchildren and girls, does all the harm. Alas! my poor brother Michielkin\nand Pieter de Roose were one evening, but not at the same table, in\nthe tavern of the Valck, where Pieter de Roose was avoided by every\none like the plague.\n\n\"My brother, not willing to see him in the same room as himself,\ncalled him a lecherous blackguard, and ordered him to purge the\nchamber of his presence.\n\n\"Pieter de Roose replied:\n\n\"'The brother of a public baggage has no need to show such a lofty\nnose.'\n\n\"He lied. I am not public, and give myself only to whomsoever\nI please.'\n\n\"Michielkin, then, flinging his quart of cervoise ale in his face, told\nhim he had lied like the filthy debauchee that he was, threatening,\nif he did not decamp, to make him eat his fist up to the elbow.\n\n\"The other would have talked more, but Michielkin did what he had\nsaid: he gave him two great blows on the jaw and dragged him by the\nteeth, with which he was biting, out on to the road, where he left\nhim battered and bruised, without pity.\n\n\"Pieter de Roose, being healed, and unable to live a solitary life,\nwent in 't Vagevuur, a veritable purgatory and a gloomy tavern, where\nthere were none but poor people. There also he was left to himself,\neven by all those ragamuffins. And no man spoke to him, save a few\ncountry folk to whom he was unknown, and a few wandering rogues, or\ndeserters from some troop or other. He was even beaten there several\ntimes, for he was quarrelsome.\n\n\"The provost Spelle had come to Meulestee with two catchpolls, and\nPieter de Roose followed them everywhere about like a dog, filling\nthem up at his expense with wine, with meat, and many other pleasures\nthat are bought with money. And so he became their companion and\ntheir comrade, and he began to do his wicked best to torment all he\nhated; which was all the inhabitants of Meulestee, but especially my\npoor brother.\n\n\"First of all he attacked Michielkin. False witnesses, gallows birds,\ngreedy for florins, declared that Michielkin was a heretic, had uttered\nfoulness about Notre Dame, and oftentimes blasphemed the name of God\nand the saints in the tavern of the Falcon, and that, besides all,\nhe had full three hundred florins in a coffer.\n\n\"Notwithstanding that the witnesses were not of good life and conduct,\nMichielkin was arrested, and the proofs being declared by Spelle and\nthe catchpolls good and sufficient to warrant putting the accused to\nthe torture, Michielkin was hung up by the arms to a pulley fastened to\nthe ceiling, and they put a weight of fifty pounds on each of his feet.\n\n\"He denied the charge, saying that if in Meulestee there was a rogue,\na blackguard, a blasphemer and a lecherous brute, it was no other\nthan Pieter de Roose, and not he.\n\n\"But Spelle would listen to nothing, and bade his catchpolls hoist\nMichielkin right up to the ceiling, and to let him drop heavily\nwith his weights on his feet. And this they did, and so cruelly that\nthe skin and the muscles of the victim were torn, and that the foot\nscarcely held to the leg.\n\n\"As Michielkin persisted in saying he was innocent, Spelle had him\ntortured afresh, while giving him to understand that if he would give\nhim a hundred florins he would leave him free and acquitted.\n\n\"Michielkin said that he would die first.\n\n\"The folk of Meulestee, having learned the fact of the arrest and the\ntorture, desired to be witness par turbes, which is the testimony of\nall the reputable inhabitants of a commune. 'Michielkin,' said they,\nunanimously, 'is in no way or guise heretical; he goes every Sunday\nto mass and to the holy table; he has never said anything else of Our\nLady than to call on her to succour him in difficult circumstances;\nhaving never spoken ill, even of an earthly woman, he would much less\never have dared to speak ill of the heavenly Mother of God. As for the\nblasphemies that the false witnesses declared they had heard him utter\nin the tavern of the Falcon, that was in all points false and lies.'\n\n\"Michielkin having been released, the false witnesses were punished,\nand Spelle cited Pieter de Roose before his court, but set him free\nwithout examination or torture, in consideration of one hundred\nflorins paid down in one sum.\n\n\"Pieter de Roose, fearing that the money he still had left might\nattract Spelle's attention to him once again, fled from Meulestee,\nwhile Michielkin, my poor brother, died of the gangrene that had\ncaught hold of his feet.\n\n\"He who no longer wished to see me, yet had me sent for to bid me\nbeware well of the fire in my body that would bring me into the fire\nof hell. And I could but weep, for the fire is within me. And he gave\nup his soul in my arms.\"\n\n\"Ha!\" said she, \"he who would avenge upon Spelle the death of my\nbeloved kind Michielkin would be my master forever, and I would obey\nhim like a dog.\"\n\nWhile she spake, the ashes of Claes beat upon the breast of\nUlenspiegel. And he determined to bring Spelle the murderer to the\ngallows.\n\nBoelkin (that was the girl's name) returned to Meulestee, well assured\nin her home against the vengeance of Pieter de Roose, for a cattle\ndealer, passing by Destelberg, informed her that the cur\u00e9 and the\ntownsfolk had declared that if Spelle touched Michielkin's sister,\nthey would cite him before the duke.\n\nUlenspiegel, having followed her to Meulestee, came into a low chamber\nin Michielkin's house, and saw there a portrait of a master pastry\ncook which he supposed to be that of the poor victim....\n\nAnd Boelkin said to him:\n\n\"It is my brother's portrait.\"\n\nUlenspiegel took the picture and said, going away:\n\n\"Spelle shall be hanged!\"\n\n\"What will you do?\" said she.\n\n\"If you knew that,\" said he, \"you would have no pleasure in seeing\nit done.\"\n\nBoelkin nodded her head and said in a grieving voice:\n\n\"You show no confidence in me.\"\n\n\"Is it not,\" said he, \"showing you extreme confidence to say to you\n'Spelle shall be hanged!' For with this mere word alone you can have\nme hanged before him.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" said she.\n\n\"Then,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"go fetch me good potter's clay, a double\nquart of bruinbier, clear water, and a few slices of beef. All\nseparate.\"\n\n\"The beef will be for me, the bruinbier for the beef, the water for\nthe clay, and the clay for the portrait.\"\n\nEating and drinking Ulenspiegel kneaded the clay, and now and then\nswallowed a morsel of it, but heeded it little, and looked most\nattentively at Michielkin's portrait. When the clay was kneaded,\nhe made a mask out of it, with a nose, a mouth, eyes, ears so much\nlike the portrait of the dead man, that Boelkin was astonied at it.\n\nAfter that he put the mask in the oven, and when it was dry, he painted\nit the colour corpses are, showing the haggard eyes, the solemn face,\nand the various contractions of a man in the act of dying. Then the\ngirl, ceasing to be astonied, looked at the mask, without being able\nto take her eyes off it, grew pale and livid, covered up her face,\nand said shuddering:\n\n\"It is he, my poor Michielkin!\"\n\nHe made also two bloody feet.\n\nThen having conquered her first fright:\n\n\"Blessed will he be,\" said she, \"that will slay the\nmurderer.\" Ulenspiegel, taking the mask and the feet, said:\n\n\"I must have an assistant.\"\n\nBoelkin replied:\n\n\"Go in den Blauwe Gans, to the Blue Goose, to Joos Lansaem of\nYpres, who keeps this tavern. He was my brother's best friend and\ncomrade. Tell him it is Boelkin that sends you.\"\n\nUlenspiegel did as she bade him.\n\nAfter having laboured for death, the provost Spelle went to drink\nin't Valck, at the Falcon, a hot mixture of dobbel-clauwert, with\ncinnamon and Madeira sugar. They dared refuse him nothing at his inn,\nfor fear of the rope.\n\nPieter de Roose, having plucked up courage again, had come back to\nMeulestee. Everywhere he followed Spelle and his catchpolls to have\ntheir protection. Sometimes Spelle paid the wherewithal for him to\ndrink. And they drank up merrily the money of the victims.\n\nThe inn of the Falcon was not filled now as in the good days when the\nvillage lived joyously, serving God after the Catholic fashion; and\nnot tormented because of religion. Now it was as though in mourning,\nas could be seen from its numerous houses that were empty or shut up,\nfrom its deserted streets in which there wandered a few starved dogs\nsearching among the rubbish heaps for their rotten food.\n\nThere was no place now in Meulestee for any but the two evil and cruel\nmen. The timid dwellers in the village saw them by day insolent and\nnoting the houses of future victims, drawing up the lists of death;\nand by night venturing from the Falcon singing filthy choruses, while\ntwo catchpolls, drunk like them, followed them armed to the teeth to\nbe their escort.\n\nUlenspiegel went in den Blauwe Gans, to the Blue Goose, to Joos\nLansaem, who was at the bar.\n\nUlenspiegel took from his pocket a little flask of brandy, and said\nto him:\n\n\"Boelkin has two casks for sale.\"\n\n\"Come into my kitchen,\" said the baes.\n\nThere, shutting the door, and looking fixedly at him:\n\n\"You are no brandy merchant; what do these winkings of your eyes\nmean? Who are you?\"\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"I am the son of Claes that was burned at Damme; the ashes of the\ndead man beat upon my breast; I would fain kill Spelle, the murderer.\"\n\n\"It is Boelkin who sends you?\" asked the host.\n\n\"Boelkin sends me,\" replied Ulenspiegel. \"I will kill Spelle; you\nshall help me in it.\"\n\n\"I will,\" said the baes. \"What must I do?\"\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"Go to the cur\u00e9, the good pastor, an enemy to Spelle. Assemble your\nfriends together and be with them to-morrow, after the curfew, on\nthe Everghem road, above Spelle's house, between the Falcon and the\nhouse aforesaid. All post yourselves in the shadows and have no white\non your clothes. At the stroke of ten you will see Spelle coming out\nfrom the tavern and a wagon coming from the other side.\n\n\"Do not tell your friends to-night; they sleep too near to their wives'\nears. Go and find them to-morrow. Come, now, listen to everything\nclosely and remember well.\"\n\n\"We shall remember,\" said Joos. And raising his goblet: \"I drink to\nSpelle's halter.\"\n\n\"To the halter,\" said Ulenspiegel. Then he went back with the baes\ninto the tavern chamber where there sate drinking certain old clothes\nmerchants of Ghent who were coming back from the Saturday market at\nBruges, where they had sold for high prices doublets and short mantles\nof cloth of gold and silver bought for a few sous from ruined nobles\nwho desired by their luxury and splendour to imitate the Spaniards.\n\nAnd they kept revels and feasting because of their big profits.\n\nUlenspiegel and Joos Lansaem, sitting in a corner, as they drank,\nand without being heard, agreed that Joos should go to the cur\u00e9 of\nthe church, a good pastor, incensed against Spelle, the murderer of\ninnocent men. After that he would go to his friends.\n\nOn the morrow, Joos Lansaem and Michielkin's friends, having been\nforewarned, left the Blauwe Gans, where they had their pints as usual,\nand so as to conceal their plans went off at curfew by different ways,\nand came to the Everghem causeway. They were seventeen in number.\n\nAt ten o'clock Spelle left the Falcon, followed by his two catchpolls\nand Pieter de Roose. Lansaem and his troop were hidden in the barn\nbelonging to Samson Boene, a friend of Michielkin. The door of the\nbarn was open. Spelle never saw them.\n\nThey heard him pass by, staggering with drink like Pieter de Roose\nand his two catchpolls also, and saying, in a thick voice and with\nmany hiccups:\n\n\"Provosts! provosts! life is good to them in this world; hold me up,\ngallows birds that live on my leavings!\"\n\nSuddenly were heard upon the road, from the direction of the open\ncountry, the braying of an ass and the crack of a whip.\n\n\"There is a restive donkey indeed,\" said Spelle, \"that won't go on\nin spite of that good warning.\"\n\nSuddenly they heard a great noise of wheels and a cart leaping along\nand coming down the middle of the road.\n\n\"Stop it!\" cried Spelle.\n\nAs the cart passed beside them, Spelle and his two catchpolls threw\nthemselves on the donkey's head.\n\n\"This cart is empty,\" said one of the catchpolls.\n\n\"Lubber,\" said Spelle, \"do empty carts gallop about by night all\nalone? There is somebody in this cart a-hiding; light the lanterns,\nhold them up, I am going to look in it.\"\n\nThe lanterns were lighted and Spelle climbed up on the cart, holding\nhis own lamp; but scarcely had he looked than he uttered a great cry,\nand falling back, said:\n\n\"Michielkin! Michielkin! Jesu! have pity upon me!\"\n\nThen there rose up from the floor of the cart a man clad in white as\npastry cooks are and holding in his hands two bloody feet.\n\nPieter de Roose, seeing the man stand up, illuminated by the lanterns,\ncried with the two catchpolls:\n\n\"Michielkin! Michielkin, the dead man! Lord have pity upon us!\"\n\nThe seventeen came at the noise to look at the spectacle and were\naffrighted to see in the light of the clear moon how like was the\nimage of Michielkin, the poor deceased.\n\nAnd the ghost waved his bleeding feet.\n\nIt was his same full round visage, but pale through death, threatening,\nlivid, and eaten under the chin by worms.\n\nThe ghost, still waving his bleeding feet, said to Spelle, who was\ngroaning, lying flat on his back:\n\n\"Spelle, Provost Spelle, awake!\"\n\nBut Spelle never moved.\n\n\"Spelle,\" said the ghost again, \"Provost Spelle, awake or I fetch\nthee down with me into the mouth of gaping hell.\"\n\nSpelle got up, and with his hair straight up for terror, cried\nlamentably:\n\n\"Michielkin! Michielkin, have pity!\"\n\nMeanwhile, the townsfolk had come up, but Spelle saw nothing save\nthe lanterns, which he took for the eyes of devils. He confessed as\nmuch later.\n\n\"Spelle,\" said the ghost of Michielkin, \"art thou prepared to die?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" replied the provost, \"nay, Messire Michielkin; I am nowise\nprepared for it, and I would not appear before God with my soul all\nblack with sin.\"\n\n\"Dost thou know me?\" said the ghost.\n\n\"May God be my helper,\" said Spelle, \"yea, I know thee; thou art the\nghost of Michielkin, the pastry cook, who died, innocently in his bed,\nof the after effects of torture, and the two bleeding feet are those\nupon each of which I had a weight of fifty pounds hung. Ha! Michielkin,\nforgive me, this Pieter de Roose was so strong a tempter; he offered\nme fifty florins, which I accepted, to put thy name on the list.\"\n\n\"Dost thou desire to confess thyself?\" said the ghost.\n\n\"Aye, Messire, I desire to confess myself, to tell all and do\npenance. But deign to send away these demons that are there, ready\nto devour me. I will tell all. Take away those fiery eyes! I did\nthe same thing at Tournay, with respect to five townsmen; the same\nat Bruges, with four. I no longer know their names, but I will tell\nthem you if you insist; elsewhere, too, I have sinned, lord, and of\nmy doing there are nine and sixty innocents in the grave. Michielkin,\nthe king needed money. I had been informed of that, but I needed money\neven likewise; it is at Ghent, in the cellar, under the pavement,\nin the house of old Grovels my real mother. I have told all, all:\ngrace and mercy! Take away the devils. Lord God, Virgin Mary, Jesus,\nintercede for me: save me from the fires of hell, I will sell all I\nhave, I will give everything to the poor, and I will do penance.\"\n\nUlenspiegel, seeing that the crowd of the townsmen was ready to\nuphold him, leapt from the cart at Spelle's throat and would have\nstrangled him.\n\nBut the cur\u00e9 came up.\n\n\"Let him live,\" said he; \"it is better that he should die by the\nexecutioner's rope than by the fingers of a ghost.\"\n\n\"What are you going to do with him?\" asked Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Accuse him before the duke and have him hanged,\" replied the\ncur\u00e9. \"But who art thou?\" asked he.\n\n\"I,\" replied Ulenspiegel, \"am the mask of Michielkin and the person\nof a poor Flemish fox who is going back into his earth for fear of\nthe Spanish hunters.\"\n\nIn the meantime, Pieter de Roose was running away at full speed.\n\nAnd Spelle having been hanged, his goods were confiscated.\n\nAnd the king inherited.\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXIII\n\nThe next day Ulenspiegel went towards Courtray, going alongside the\nLys, the clear river.\n\nLamme went pitifully along.\n\nUlenspiegel said to him:\n\n\"You whine, cowardly heart, regretting the wife that made you wear\nthe horned crown of cuckoldom.\"\n\n\"My son,\" said Lamme, \"she was always faithful, loving me enough as\nI loved her over well, sweet Jesus. One day, being gone to Bruges,\nshe came back thence changed. From then, when I prayed her of love,\nshe would say to me:\n\n\"'I must live with you as a friend, and not otherwise.'\n\n\"Then, sad in my heart:\n\n\"'Beloved darling,' I would say, 'we were married before God. Did I\nnot for you everything you ever wished? Did not I many a time clothe\nmyself with a doublet of black linen and a fustian cloak that I might\nsee you clad in silk and brocade despite the royal ordinances? Darling,\nwill you never love me again?'\n\n\"'I love thee,' she would say, 'according to God and His laws,\naccording to holy discipline and penance. Yet I shall be a virtuous\ncompanion to thee.'\n\n\"'I care naught for thy virtue,' I replied, ''tis thou I want, thou,\nmy wife.'\n\n\"Nodding her head:\n\n\"'I know thou art good,' she said; 'until to-day thou wast cook\nin the house to spare me the labour of fricassees; thou didst iron\nour blankets, ruffs, and shirts, the irons being too heavy for me;\nthou didst wash our linen, thou didst sweep the house and the street\nbefore the door, so as to spare me all fatigue. Now I desire to work\ninstead of you, but nothing more, husband.'\n\n\"'That is all one to me,' I replied; 'I will be, as in the past,\nthy tiring maid, thy laundress, thy cook, thy washwoman, thy slave,\nthy very own, submissive; but wife, sever not these two hearts and\nbodies that make but one; break not that soft bond of love that\nclasped us so tenderly together.'\n\n\"'I must,' she replied.\n\n\"'Alas!' I would say, 'was it at Bruges that thou didst come to this\nharsh resolve?'\n\n\"She replied:\n\n\"'I have sworn before God and His saints.'\n\n\"'Who, then,' I cried, 'forced thee to take an oath not to fulfil\nyour duties as a wife?'\n\n\"'He that hath the spirit of God, and ranks me among the number of\nhis penitents,' said she.\n\n\"From that moment she ceased to be mine as much as if she had been\nthe faithful wife of another man. I implored her, tormented her,\nthreatened her, wept, begged, but in vain. One night, coming back\nfrom Blanckenberghe, where I had been to receive the rent of one\nof my farms, I found the house empty. Without doubt fatigued with\nmy entreaties, grieved and sad at my distress, my wife had taken\nflight. Where is she now?\"\n\nAnd Lamme sat down on the bank of the Lys, hanging his head and\nlooking at the water.\n\n\"Ah!\" said he, \"my dear, how plump, tender, and delicious thou\nwast! Shall I ever find a lass like thee? Daily bread of love,\nshall I never eat of thee again? Where are thy kisses, as full of\nfragrance as thyme; thy delicious mouth whence I gathered pleasure as\nthe bee gathers the honey from the rose; thy white arms that wrapped\nme round caressing? Where is thy beating heart, thy round bosom,\nand the sweet shudder of thy fairy body all panting with love? But\nwhere are thy old waves, cool river that rollest so joyously thy new\nwaves in the sunshine?\"\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXIV\n\nPassing before the wood of Peteghem, Lamme said to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"I am roasting hot; let us seek the shade.\"\n\n\"Let us,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\nThey sat down in the wood, upon the grass, and saw a herd of stags\npass in front of them.\n\n\"Look well, Lamme,\" said Ulenspiegel, priming his German musket. \"There\nare the tall old stags that still have their dowcets, and carry proud\nand stately their nine-point antlers; lovely brockets, that are their\nsquires, trot by their side, ready to do them service with their\npointed horns. They are going to their lair. Turn the musket lock as\nI do. Fire! The old stag is wounded. A brocket is hit in the thigh;\nhe is in flight. Let us follow him till he falls. Do as I do: run,\njump, and fly.\"\n\n\"There is my mad friend,\" said Lamme, \"following stags on foot. Fly not\nwithout wings; it is labour lost. You will never catch them. Oh! the\ncruel comrade! Do you imagine I am as agile as you? I sweat, my son;\nI sweat and I am going to fall. If the ranger catches you, you will\nbe hanged. Stag is kings' game; let them run, my son, you will never\ncatch them.\"\n\n\"Come,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"do you hear the noise of his antlers in the\nfoliage? It is a water spout passing. Do you see the young branches\nbroken, the leaves strewing the ground? He has another bullet in his\nthigh this time; we will eat him.\"\n\n\"He is not cooked yet,\" said Lamme. \"Let these poor beasts run. Ah! how\nhot it is! I am going to fall down there without doubt and I shall\nnever rise again.\"\n\nSuddenly, on all sides, men clad in rags and armed filled the\nforest. Dogs bayed and dashed in pursuit of the stags. Four fierce\nfellows surrounded Lamme and Ulenspiegel and brought them into a\nclearing, in the middle of a brake, where they saw encamped there,\namong women and children, men in great numbers, armed diversely with\nswords, arbalests, arquebuses, lances, pikestaff, and reiter's pistols.\n\nUlenspiegel, seeing them, said to them:\n\n\"Are ye the leafmen or Brothers of the Woods, that ye seem to live\nhere in common to flee the persecution?\"\n\n\"We are Brothers of the Woods,\" replied an old man sitting beside\nthe fire and frying some birds in a saucepan. \"But who art thou?\"\n\n\"I,\" replied Ulenspiegel, \"am of the goodly country of Flanders,\na painter, a rustic, a noble, a sculptor, all together. And through\nthe world in this wise I journey, praising things lovely and good\nand mocking loudly at all stupidity.\"\n\n\"If thou hast seen so many countries,\" said the ancient man, \"thou\ncanst pronounce: Schild ende Vriendt, buckler and friend, in the\nfashion of Ghent folk; if not, thou art a counterfeit Fleming and\nthou shalt die.\"\n\nUlenspiegel pronounced: Schild ende Vriendt.\n\n\"And thou, big belly,\" asked the ancient man, speaking to Lamme,\n\"what is thy trade?\"\n\nLamme replied:\n\n\"To eat and drink my lands, farms, fees, and revenues, to seek for\nmy wife, and to follow in all places my friend Ulenspiegel.\"\n\n\"If thou hast travelled so much,\" said the old man, \"thou art not\nwithout knowledge of how they call the folk of Weert in Limbourg.\"\n\n\"I do not know it,\" replied Lamme; \"but would you not tell me the name\nof the scandalous vagabond who drove my wife from her home? Give it\nto me; I will go and slay him straightway.\"\n\nThe ancient man made answer:\n\n\"There are two things in this world which never return once having\ntaken flight: they are money spent and a woman grown tired and\nrun away.\"\n\nThen speaking to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Dost thou know,\" said he, \"how they call the men of Weert in\nLimbourg?\"\n\n\"De reakstekers, the exorcisers of skates,\" replied Ulenspiegel,\n\"for one day a live ray having fallen from a fishmonger's cart, old\nwomen seeing it leap about took it for the devil. 'Let us go fetch\nthe cur\u00e9 to exorcise the skate,' said they. The cur\u00e9 exorcised it,\nand carrying it off with him, made a noble fricassee in honour of\nthe folk of Weert. Thus may God do with the bloody king.\"\n\nMeanwhile, the barking of the dogs re\u00ebchoed in the forest. The armed\nmen, running in the wood, were shouting to frighten the beast.\n\n\"'Tis the stag and the brocket I put up,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"We shall eat him,\" said the old man. \"But how do they call the folk\nof Eindhoven in Limbourg?\"\n\n\"De pinnemakers, boltmakers,\" replied Ulenspiegel. \"One day the enemy\nwas at the gate of their city; they bolted it with a carrot. The geese\ncame and ate the carrot with great pecks of their greedy beaks, and\nthe enemies came into Eindhoven. But it will be iron beaks that will\neat the bolts of the prisons wherein they seek to lock up freedom\nof conscience.\"\n\n\"If God be with us, who shall be against us?\" replied the ancient man.\n\nUlenspiegel said:\n\n\"Dogs baying, men shouting, branches broken; 'tis a storm in the\nforest.\"\n\n\"Is it good meat, stag meat?\" asked Lamme, looking at the fricassees.\n\n\"The cries of the trackers come nearer,\" said Ulenspiegel to Lamme;\n\"the dogs are close at hand. What thunder! The stag! the stag! take\ncare, my son. Fie! the foul beast; he has flung my big friend down\nto the earth in the midst of the pans, saucepans, cooking pots,\nboilers, and fricassees. There are the women and girls fleeing daft\nwith fright. You are bleeding, my son?\"\n\n\"You are laughing, scoundrel,\" said Lamme. \"Aye, I am bleeding; he\nhath landed his antlers in my seat. There, see my breeches torn, and\nmy flesh, too, and all those lovely fricassees on the ground. There,\nI am losing all my blood down my hose.\"\n\n\"This stag is a foresighted surgeon; he is saving you from an\napoplexy,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Fie! rascal without a heart,\" said Lamme. \"But I will follow you\nno more. I will stay here in the midst of these good fellows and\nthese good women. Can you, without any shame, be so hardhearted to\nmy woes, when I walk at your heels like a dog, through snow, frost,\nrain, hail, wind, and when it is hot weather, sweating my very soul\nout through my skin?\"\n\n\"Your wound is nothing. Clap an olie-koekje on it; that will be both\nplaster and fry to it,\" answered Ulenspiegel. \"But do you know how\nthey call the folk of Louvain? You do not know it, poor friend. Well,\nthen, I am about to tell you to keep you from whimpering. They call\nthem de koeye-schieters, cow shooters, for they were one day silly\nenough to fire on cows, which they took for enemy soldiers. As for us,\nwe fire on Spanish goats; their flesh is stinking stuff, but their\nskin is good to make drums withal. And the folk of Tirlemont? Do\nyou know it? Not that, either. They carry the proud nickname of\nkirekers. For in their town, in the great church, on Whit Sunday, a\ndrake flies from the rood-loft altar, and that is the image of their\nHoly Ghost. Put a koeke-bakke on your wound. You pick up without a\nword the cooking pots and fricassees overturned by the stag. 'Tis\nkitchen courage. You relight the fire, and set up the soup pot again\nupon its three stakes; you are busying yourself very attentively with\nthe cooking. Do you know why there are four wonders in Louvain? No. I\nwill tell you why. In the first place, because the living there pass\nunderneath the dead, for the church of Saint-Michel is built close\nto the gate of the town. Its graveyard is therefore above. Secondly,\nbecause the bells there are outside the towers, as is seen at the\nchurch of Saint-Jacques, where there is a great bell and a little\nbell; being unable to place the little one inside the bell tower,\nthey placed it outside. Thirdly, because of the Tower-without-Nails,\nbecause the spire of the church of Saint-Gertrude is made of stone\ninstead of being made of wood, and because men do not nail stones,\nexcept the bloody king's heart which I would fain nail above the great\ngate of Brussels. But you are not listening to me. Is there no salt\nin the sauces? Do you know why the folk of Tirlemont call themselves\nwarming pans, de vierpannen? Because a young prince being come in\nwinter to sleep at the inn of the Arms of Flanders, the innkeeper did\nnot know how to air the blankets, for he had no warming pan. He had\nthe bed aired by his daughter, who, hearing the prince coming, made\noff running, and the prince asked why they had not left the warming\npan in the bed. May God bring it about that Philip, shut in a box of\nred-hot iron, may serve as warming pan in the bed of Madame Astarte.\"\n\n\"Leave me in peace,\" said Lamme; \"a fig for you, your vierpannen,\nthe Tower-without-Nails, and the rest of your nonsense. Leave me to\nmy sauces.\"\n\n\"Beware,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"The barkings cease not to re\u00ebcho; they\nbecome louder; the dogs are roaring, the bugle is sounding. Beware\nof the stag. You are taking flight! The bugle sounds.\"\n\n\"It is the death quarry,\" said the old man, \"come back, Lamme, to\nyour fricassees, the stag is dead.\"\n\n\"It will be a good meal for us,\" said Lamme. \"You will invite me to\nthe feast, because of the trouble I am taking for you. The sauce for\nthe birds will be good: it crunches a little, however. That is the\nsand on which they fell when that big devil of a stag tore my doublet\nand me all together. But are you not afraid of the foresters?\"\n\n\"We are too numerous,\" said the old man; \"they are afraid and do\nnot disturb us. It is even the same with the catchpolls and the\njudges. The inhabitants of the towns love us, for we do no harm to any\nman. We shall live some time longer in peace, unless the Spanish army\nsurrounds us. If that happens, old men and young men, women, girls,\nlads, and lasses, we will sell our lives dear, and we will kill one\nanother rather than endure a thousand martyrdoms at the hands of the\nbloody duke.\"\n\nUlenspiegel said:\n\n\"It is now no longer the time to combat the murderer by land. It is\non the sea that we must ruin his power. Go to the Zealand Islands,\nby way of Bruges, Heyst, and Knoeke.\"\n\n\"We have no money,\" said they.\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"Here are a thousand carolus from the prince. Follow along the\nwaterways, canals, rivers, and streams; when you see ships carrying\nthe sign 'J. H. S.,' let one of you sing like a lark. The clarion of\nthe cock will answer him. And you will be in friends' country.\"\n\n\"We will do this,\" said they.\n\nSoon the hunters, followed by the dogs, appeared, pulling after them\nthe dead stag with ropes.\n\nThen all sate down round about the fire. There were full sixty, men,\nwomen, and children. Bread was pulled out from satchels, knives from\ntheir sheaths; the stag, cut up, stripped, disembowelled, was put on\nthe spit with small game. And at the end of the meal Lamme was seen\nsnoring with his head drooped on his breast and sleeping propped\nagainst a tree.\n\nAt nightfall, the Brothers of the Wood went back into huts constructed\nunderground to sleep, and Lamme and Ulenspiegel did the same.\n\nArmed men kept watch, guarding the camp. And Ulenspiegel heard the\ndry leaves protest under their feet.\n\nThe next day he departed with Lamme, while the men of the camp said:\n\n\"Blessed be thou; we will make towards the sea.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXV\n\nAt Harlebek, Lamme renewed his stock of olie-koekjes, ate twenty-seven\nand put thirty in his basket. Ulenspiegel carried his cages in his\nhand. Towards evening they arrived in Courtray and stopped at the inn\nof in de Bie, the Bee, with Gilis van den Ende, who came to his door\nas soon as he heard someone sing like the lark.\n\nThere it was all sugar and honey with them. The host having seen the\nprince's letters, handed fifty carolus to Ulenspiegel for the prince,\nand would take no payment for the turkey he served them, nor for the\ndobbel-clauwert with which he washed it down. He warned them, too,\nthat there were at Courtray spies of the Court of Blood, for which\ncause he ought to well keep his tongue as well as his companion's.\n\n\"We shall reconnoitre then,\" said Ulenspiegel and Lamme.\n\nAnd they went out from the inn.\n\nThe sun was setting, gilding the gables of the houses; the birds were\nsinging under the lime trees; the goodwives gossiped on the thresholds\nof their doors; the children rolled and tumbled about in the dust,\nand Ulenspiegel and Lamme wandered haphazard through the streets.\n\nSuddenly Lamme said:\n\n\"Martin van den Ende, asked by me if he had seen a woman like my\nwife--I drew him my pretty portrait,--told me that there were at the\nhouse of the woman Stevenyne, on the Bruges road, at the Rainbow,\noutside the town, a great number of women who gather there every\nevening. I am going there straightway.\"\n\n\"I shall find you again presently,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"I wish to pay\nthe town a visit; if I meet your wife I will presently send her to\nyou. You know that the baes has enjoined on you to be silent, if you\nhave any regard for your skin.\"\n\nAs Ulenspiegel wandered at his will, the sun went down, and the day\nfalling swiftly, he arrived in the Pierpot-Straetje, which is the lane\nof the Stone Pot. There he heard the viol played upon melodiously;\ndrawing near he saw from afar a white shape calling him, gliding away\nfrom him and playing on the viol. And it sang like a seraph a sweet\nslow song, stopping, turning back, still calling him and fleeing\nfrom him.\n\nBut Ulenspiegel ran swiftly; he overtook her and was about to speak\nto her when she laid on his mouth a hand perfumed with benjamin.\n\n\"Art thou a rustic or a nobleman?\" said she.\n\n\"I am Ulenspiegel.\"\n\n\"Art thou rich?\"\n\n\"Enough to pay for a great pleasure, not enough to ransom my soul.\"\n\n\"Hast thou no horses, that thou goest afoot?\"\n\n\"I had an ass,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"but I left him in the stable.\"\n\n\"How is it thou art alone, without a friend, in a strange city?\"\n\n\"Because my friend is wandering on his own side, as I am on mine,\nmy curious darling.\"\n\n\"I am not curious,\" said she. \"Is he rich, your friend?\"\n\n\"In fat,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"Will you soon have finished questioning\nme?\"\n\n\"I have done,\" said she, \"now leave me.\"\n\n\"Leave you?\" he said; \"as well bid Lamme, when he is hungry, leave\na dish of ortolans. I want to eat you.\"\n\n\"You have not seen me,\" she said. And she opened a lantern which\nshone out suddenly, lighting up her face.\n\n\"You are beautiful,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"Ho! the golden skin, the\nsweet eyes, the red mouth, the darling body! All will be for me.\"\n\n\"All,\" she said.\n\nShe brought him to the woman Stevenyne's, on the Bruges road, at the\nRainbow (in den Reghen-boogh). Ulenspiegel saw there a great number\nof girls wearing on their arms armlets of a colour different from\nthat of their fustian dress.\n\nThis one had an armlet of silver cloth on a robe of cloth of gold. And\nall the girls looked at her jealously. Coming in she made a sign to\nthe baesine, but Ulenspiegel never saw it. They sat down together\nand drank.\n\n\"Do you know,\" said she, \"that whoever has loved me is mine forever?\"\n\n\"Lovely fragrant girl,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"'twould be a delicious\nfeast to me to eat always of this meat.\"\n\nSuddenly he perceived Lamme in a corner, with a little table before\nhim, a candle, a ham, a pot of beer, and not knowing how to rescue his\nham from the two girls, who wanted perforce to eat and drink with him.\n\nWhen Lamme perceived Ulenspiegel, he stood up and leaped three feet\ninto the air, crying:\n\n\"Blessed be God, that restoreth my friend Ulenspiegel to me! Something\nto drink, baesine!\"\n\nUlenspiegel, pulling out his purse, said:\n\n\"Bring to drink till this is at an end.\"\n\nAnd he made the carolus clink.\n\n\"Glory to God!\" said Lamme, craftily taking the purse in his hands;\n\"it is I that pay and not you; this purse is mine.\"\n\nUlenspiegel wished to get back his purse from him by force, but Lamme\nheld on tenaciously. As they were fighting, the one to keep it, the\nother to get it back, Lamme speaking disjointedly, said in low tones\nto Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Listen: ... catchpolls within ... four ... little room with three\ngirls ... two outside for you, for me ... would have gone out\n... prevented.... The brocade girl a spy ... a spy, Stevenyne!\"\n\nWhile they were struggling, Ulenspiegel, listening with all his ears,\ncried out:\n\n\"Give back my purse, rascal!\"\n\n\"You shall never get it,\" said Lamme.\n\nAnd they seized each other by the neck and the shoulders, rolling on\nthe ground while Lamme gave his good advice to Ulenspiegel.\n\nSuddenly the baes of the Bee came in followed by seven men, whom he\nseemed not to know. He crowed like a cock and Ulenspiegel whistled\nlike a lark. Seeing Ulenspiegel and Lamme fighting, the baes spoke:\n\n\"Who are these two fellows?\" he asked the Stevenyne.\n\nThe Stevenyne answered:\n\n\"Rogues that it would be better to separate rather than leave them\nhere to make such an uproar before going to the gallows.\"\n\n\"Let him dare to separate us,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"and we will make\nhim eat the tiled floor.\"\n\n\"The baes to the rescue,\" said Ulenspiegel in Lamme's ear.\n\nHereupon the baes, scenting some mystery, rushed into their battle,\nhead down. Lamme threw these words into his ear.\n\n\"You the rescuer? How?\"\n\nThe baes pretended to shake Ulenspiegel by the ears and said to him\nin a whisper:\n\n\"Seven for thee ... strong fellows, butchers ... I'm going away ... too\nwell known in town.... When I am gone, 'tis van te beven de klinkaert\n... smash everything ...\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Ulenspiegel, getting up and fetching him a kick.\n\nThe baes struck him in his turn. And Ulenspiegel said to him:\n\n\"You hit thick and fast, my belly boy.\"\n\n\"As hail,\" said the baes, seizing Lamme's purse lightly and giving\nit to Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Rogue,\" said he, \"pay for me to drink now that you have been restored\nto your property.\"\n\n\"Thou shalt drink, scandalous rascal,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"See how impudent he is,\" said the Stevenyne.\n\n\"As insolent as thou art lovely, darling,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nNow the Stevenyne was full sixty years old, and had a face like a\nmedlar, but all yellowed with bile and anger. In the middle of it was\na nose like an owl's beak. Her eyes were the eyes of a flinty-hearted\nmiser. Two long dog-tusks jutted from her fleshless mouth. And she\nhad a great port-wine stain on her left cheek.\n\nThe girls laughed, mocking her and saying:\n\n\"Darling, darling, give him somewhat to drink\"--\"He will kiss you\"--\"Is\nit long since you had your first spree?\"--\"Take care, Ulenspiegel, she\nwill eat you up\"--\"Look at her eyes; they are shining not with hate\nbut with love\"--\"You might say she will bite you to death\"--\"Don't\nbe afraid\"--\"All amorous women are like that\"--\"She only wants your\nmoney\"--\"See what a good laughing humour she is in.\"\n\nAnd indeed the Stevenyne was laughing and winking at Gilline, the\ngirl in the brocade dress.\n\nThe baes drank, paid, and went. The seven butchers made faces of\nintelligence at the catchpolls and the Stevenyne.\n\nOne of them indicated by a gesture that he held Ulenspiegel for a\nninny and that he was about to fool him to the top of his bent. He\nsaid in his ear, putting out his tongue derisively on the side of\nthe Stevenyne who was laughing and showing her fangs:\n\n\"'Tis van te beven de klinkaert\" ('tis time to make the glasses clink).\n\nThen aloud, and pointing to the catchpolls:\n\n\"Gentle reformer, we are all with thee; pay for us to drink and\nto eat.\"\n\nAnd the Stevenyne laughed with pleasure and also put out her tongue\nat Ulenspiegel when he turned his back to her. And Gilline of the\nbrocade dress put out her tongue likewise.\n\nAnd the girls said, whispering:\n\n\"Look at the spy who by her beauty brought to cruel torture and more\ncruel death more than twenty-seven of the Reformed faith; Gilline is\nin ecstasy thinking of the reward for her informing--the first hundred\nflorins carolus of the victim's estate. But she does not laugh when\nshe thinks that she must share them with the Stevenyne.\"\n\nAnd all, catchpolls, butchers, and girls, put out their tongues to\nmock at Ulenspiegel. And Lamme sweated great drops of sweat, and he\nwas red with anger like a cock's comb, but he would not speak a word.\n\n\"Pay for us to drink and to eat,\" said the butchers and the catchpolls.\n\n\"Well, then,\" said Ulenspiegel, rattling his carolus again, \"give us\nto drink and to eat, O darling Stevenyne, to drink in ringing glasses.\"\n\nThereupon the girls began to laugh anew and the Stevenyne to stick\nout her tusks.\n\nNevertheless, she went to the kitchens and to the cellar; she brought\nback ham, sausages, omelettes of black puddings, and ringing glasses,\nso called because they were mounted on felt and rang like a chime\nwhen they were knocked.\n\nThen Ulenspiegel said:\n\n\"Let him that is hungry eat; let him that is thirsty drink!\"\n\nThe catchpolls, the girls, the butchers, Gilline, and the Stevenyne\napplauded this speech with feet and hands. Then they all ranged\nthemselves as well as they could, Ulenspiegel, Lamme, and the seven\nbutchers at the principal table, the great table of honour, the\ncatchpolls and the girls at two small tables. And they drank and ate\nwith a great noise of jaws, even the two catchpolls that were outside,\nand whom their comrades made come in to share the feast. And ropes\nand chains could be seen sticking out from their satchels.\n\nThe Stevenyne then putting out her tongue and grinning said:\n\n\"No one can go without paying me.\"\n\nAnd she went and shut all the doors, the keys of which she put in\nthe pockets.\n\nGilline, lifting her glass, said:\n\n\"The bird is in the cage, let us drink.\"\n\nThereupon two girls called Gena and Margot said to her:\n\n\"Is this another one that you are going to have put to death,\nwicked woman?\"\n\n\"I do not know,\" said Gilline, \"let us drink.\"\n\nBut the three girls would not drink with her.\n\nAnd Gilline took her viol and sang, in French:\n\n\n    \"To viol's tone I sing\n    'Neath night or noonday skies,\n    A gay, mad, wanton thing\n    Who sell Love's merchandise.\n\n    \"Astarte traced aright\n    My hips in lines of flame:\n    Were shoulders ne'er so white\n    And God's my lovely frame.\n\n    \"Oh tear each purse's sheath\n    And let its money glow:\n    Set tawny gold beneath\n    My milk-white feet aflow.\n\n    \"Of Eve the child I seem,\n    Of Satan too a part;\n    As fine as is your dream,\n    Come seek it in my heart.\n\n    \"My mood is cold or burning,\n    Or fond with careless ease,\n    Mad, mild, or melting turning,\n    My man, your whim to please.\n\n    \"See every charm that cheers,\n    Soul, eyes of blue, for hire;\n    Delights and smiles and tears,\n    And Death, if you desire.\n\n    \"To viol's tone I sing\n    'Neath night or noonday skies,\n    A gay, mad, wanton thing\n    Who sell Love's merchandise.\"\n\n\nAs she sang her song, Gilline was so beautiful, so sweet, and so pretty\nthat all the men, catchpolls, butchers, Lamme, and Ulenspiegel were\nthere, speechless, moved, smiling, captivated by the spell.\n\nAll at once, bursting into laughter, Gilline said, looking at\nUlenspiegel:\n\n\"That is the way birds are put in the cage.\"\n\nAnd the spell was broken.\n\nUlenspiegel, Lamme, and the butchers looked at one another.\n\n\"Now, then, will you pay me?\" said the Stevenyne, \"will you pay me,\nMessire Ulenspiegel, you that grow so fat on the flesh of preachers?\"\n\nLamme would have spoken, but Ulenspiegel made him hold his tongue,\nand speaking to the Stevenyne:\n\n\"We shall not pay in advance,\" said he.\n\n\"I will pay myself afterwards then out of your estate,\" said the\nStevenyne.\n\n\"Ghouls feed on corpses,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Aye,\" said one of the catchpolls, \"those two have taken the preachers'\nmoney; more than three hundred florins carolus. That makes a fine\ntithe for Gilline.\"\n\nGilline sang:\n\n\n    \"Seek such in other spheres\n    Take all, my loving squire,\n    Pleasures, kisses, and tears,\n    And Death, if you desire.\"\n\n\nThen, laughing, she said:\n\n\"Let's drink!\"\n\n\"Let's drink!\" said the catchpolls.\n\n\"In God's name,\" said the Stevenyne, \"let us drink! The doors are\nlocked, the windows have stout bars, the birds are in the cage,\nlet us drink!\"\n\n\"Let's drink,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Let's drink,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"Let's drink,\" said the seven.\n\n\"Let's drink,\" said the catchpolls.\n\n\"Let's drink,\" said Gilline, making her viols sing. \"I am beautiful;\nlet us drink. I could take the Archangel Gabriel in the nets of\nmy singing.\"\n\n\"Bring us to drink then,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"wine to crown the feast,\nwine of the best; I would have a drop of liquid fire at every hair\nof our thirsty bodies.\"\n\n\"Let us drink!\" said Gilline; \"twenty gudgeons more like you, and\nthe pikes will sing no more.\"\n\nThe Stevenyne brought wine. All were sitting, drinking and eating,\nthe catchpolls and the girls together. The seven, seated at the table\nof Ulenspiegel and Lamme, threw, from their table to the girls, hams,\nsausages, omelettes, and bottles, which they caught in the air like\ncarps snatching flies on the surface of a pond. And the Stevenyne\nlaughed, sticking out her tusks and showing packets of candles,\nfive to the pound, that hung above the bar. These were the girls'\ncandles. Then she said to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"When men go to the stake, they carry a tallow candle on the way\nthither; would you like to have one now?\"\n\n\"Drink up!\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Drink up,\" said the seven.\n\nSaid Gilline:\n\n\"Ulenspiegel has eyes shining like a swan about to die.\"\n\n\"Suppose they were given to the pigs to eat?\" said the Stevenyne.\n\n\"That would be a feast of lanterns; drink up!\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Would you like,\" said the Stevenyne, \"when you are on the scaffold,\nto have your tongue thrust through with a red-hot iron?\"\n\n\"It would be the better of that for whistling; drink up,\" answered\nUlenspiegel.\n\n\"You would talk less if you were hanged,\" said the Stevenyne, \"and\nyour darling might come to look at you.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"but I should weigh heavier, and would fall\non your lovely muzzle: drink up!\"\n\n\"What would you say if you were beaten with cudgels, branded on the\nforehead and on the shoulder?\"\n\n\"I would say they had made a mistake in the meat,\" replied Ulenspiegel,\n\"and that instead of roasting the sow Stevenyne, they had scalded\nthe young porker Ulenspiegel: drink up!\"\n\n\"Since you do not like any of these,\" said the Stevenyne, \"you shall be\ntaken on to the king's ships, and there condemned to be torn asunder\nby four galleys.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"the sharks will have my four quarters,\nand you shall eat what they reject: drink up!\"\n\n\"Why do you not eat one of these candles,\" said she, \"they would\nserve you in hell to light your eternal damnation.\"\n\n\"I see clear enough to behold your shiny snout, O ill-scalded sow,\ndrink up!\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nSuddenly he struck the foot of the glass on the table, imitating with\nhis hands the noise an upholsterer makes beating rhythmically the\nwool of a mattress upon a frame of sticks, but very gently, and saying:\n\n\"'Tis (tydt) van te beven de klinkaert\" (it is time to make the\nclinker shiver--the glass that rings).\n\nThis is in Flanders the signal for the angry outbreak of drinkers\nand for the sacking of houses with the red lantern.\n\nUlenspiegel drank, then made the glass quiver on the table, saying:\n\n\"'Tis van te beven de klinkaert.\"\n\nAnd the seven imitated him.\n\nAll kept very still. Gilline grew pale, the Stevenyne appeared\nastonished. The catchpolls said:\n\n\"Are the seven on their side?\"\n\nBut the butchers, winking, reassured them, at the same time continually\nrepeating in louder and louder tones with Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"'Tis van te beven de klinkaert; 'tis van te beven de klinkaert.\"\n\nThe Stevenyne drank to give herself courage.\n\nUlenspiegel then struck the table with his fist, with the rhythm\nand measure of upholsterers beating mattresses; the seven did as he\ndid; glasses, jugs, bowls, quart pots, and goblets came slowly into\nthe dance, overturning, breaking, rising on one side to fall on the\nother; and still there rang out more threatening, sombre, warlike,\nand in monotone: \"'Tis van te beven de klinkaert.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said the Stevenyne, \"they are going to smash everything here.\"\n\nAnd in her fear her two tusks stuck farther still out of her mouth.\n\nAnd the blood lit up with wrath and fury in the minds of the seven\nand Lamme and Ulenspiegel.\n\nThen without stopping their monotonous threatening chant all the men\nat Ulenspiegel's table took their glasses, and breaking them on the\ntable, keeping time together, they got astride their chairs and drew\ntheir cutlasses. And they made such a din with their song that all the\nwindow-panes in the house were quaking. Then like a ring of devils they\nwent round about the chamber and all the tables, saying continually:\n\"'Tis van te beven de klinkaert.\"\n\nAnd the catchpolls then rose up quaking with terror, and took out their\nropes and chains. But the butchers, Ulenspiegel, and Lamme, thrusting\ntheir cutlasses back into their sheaths, got up, seized their chairs,\nand brandishing them like cudgels, they ran nimbly through the room\nhither and thither, striking right and left, sparing only the girls,\nsmashing all the rest, furniture, windows, chests, dishes, quart pots,\nbowls, glasses, and flasks, beating the catchpolls without pity and\nalways singing to the time of the sound of the upholsterer beating\nmattresses: \"'Tis van te beven de klinkaert; \"'tis van te beven de\nklinkaert,\" while Ulenspiegel had given a blow on the face with his\nfist to the Stevenyne, had taken her keys from her bag, and by force\nmade her eat her candles.\n\nThe beauteous Gilline, tearing at the doors, the shutters, the windows,\nand the glass panes with her nails, seemed to want to scratch her\nway through everything, like a terrified cat. Then, all livid, she\ncrouched down in a corner, with haggard eyes, showing her teeth,\nand holding her viol as if she must needs protect it at all costs.\n\nThe seven and Lamme said to the girls: \"We will do you no hurt\";\nwith their help tied up with their own chains and cords the catchpolls\nshivering in their shoes and not daring to resist, for they perceived\nthat the butchers, picked out among the strongest by the baes of the\nBee, would have chopped them to pieces with their cutlasses.\n\nAt every candle he made the Stevenyne eat Ulenspiegel said:\n\n\"This is for the hanging; that for the cudgelling; this other for\nthe branding; this fourth for my pierced tongue; these two excellent\nand extra fat ones for the king's ships and the quartering by four\ngalleys; this for your den of spies; that one for your damsel in the\nbrocade dress, and all these others just to please me.\"\n\nAnd the girls laughed to see the Stevenyne sneezing with anger and\ntrying to spit out her candles. But in vain, for she had her mouth\ntoo full of them.\n\nUlenspiegel, Lamme, and the seven never ceased singing in time with\none another: \"'Tis van te beven de klinkaert.\"\n\nThen Ulenspiegel stopped, making sign to them to murmur the refrain\nsoftly. They did so while he held this conversation with the girls\nand the catchpolls:\n\n\"If any one of you cries for help, he will be cut down immediately.\"\n\n\"Cut down!\" said the butchers.\n\n\"We will hold our tongues,\" said the girls, \"do not hurt us,\nUlenspiegel.\"\n\nBut Gilline, huddled in her corner, her eyes starting out of her head,\nher teeth out of her mouth, could not speak, and clasped her viol\ntightly to her.\n\nAnd the seven still were murmuring: \"'Tis van te beven de\nklinkaert!\" in measure.\n\nThe Stevenyne, pointing to the candles she had in her mouth, made\nsigns that she would hold her tongue likewise. The catchpolls promised\nthe same.\n\nUlenspiegel continued his discourse:\n\n\"Ye are here,\" said he, \"in our power; the night has fallen, we are\nnear the Lys where you drown easily if you are thrust in. The gates\nof Courtrai are closed. If the night watch have heard the uproar,\nthey will never budge, being too lazy and thinking it is simply good\nFlemish folk who as they drink are singing merrily to the sound of\npots and flasks. Wherefore stay ye still, both men and girls, before\nyour masters.\"\n\nThen, speaking to the seven:\n\n\"Are you going to Peteghem to find the Beggars?\"\n\n\"We made ready for this at the news of thy coming.\"\n\n\"From thence ye will go to the sea?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said they.\n\n\"Do you know among these catchpolls one or two that might be let go\nto serve us?\"\n\n\"Two,\" said they, \"Niklaes and Joos, who never hunted down the poor\nReformed folk.\"\n\n\"We are faithful!\" said Niklaes and Joos.\n\nThen Ulenspiegel said:\n\n\"Here are twenty florins carolus for you, twice more than you would\nhave had if ye had taken the vile reward of the informer.\"\n\nSuddenly the five others exclaimed:\n\n\"Twenty florins! We will serve the prince for twenty florins. The king\npays ill. Give each of us the half; we will tell the judge whatever\nyou wish.\"\n\nThe butchers and Lamme murmured low:\n\n\"'Tis van te beven de klinkaert; 'tis van te beven de klinkaert.\"\n\n\"So that ye may not talk too much,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"the seven will\nbring you bound as far as Peteghem, to the Beggars. Ye shall have ten\nflorins when ye are on the sea; we shall be certain till then that\nthe camp victual will keep you faithful to bread and soup. If ye are\nvaliant men, ye shall have your share in the booty taken. If ye try\nto desert, ye shall be hanged. If ye escape, thus avoiding the rope,\nye shall find the knife.\"\n\n\"We serve who pays us,\" said they.\n\n\"'Tis van te beven de klinkaert! 'Tis van te beven de klinkaert!\" said\nLamme and the seven striking upon the table with shards of broken\npots and glasses.\n\n\"Ye shall take with you also,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"Gilline, the\nStevenyne, and the three damsels. If one of them tries to escape,\nye shall sew her up in a sack and throw her into the river.\"\n\n\"He has not killed me,\" said Gilline, leaping out from her corner,\nand brandishing her viol in the air. And she sang:\n\n\n    \"Of blood was all my dream\n    The dream so near my heart,\n    Of Eve the child I seem,\n    Of Satan, too, a part.\"\n\n\nThe Stevenyne and the others were like to weep.\n\n\"Fear nothing, darlings,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"you are so soft and\nsweet, that everywhere they will love you, feast you, and caress\nyou. At every war capture ye shall have your share in the booty.\"\n\n\"They will give nothing to me, for I am an old woman,\" wept the\nStevenyne.\n\n\"A sou a day, crocodile,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"for thou shalt be\nserving woman to these four beauteous damsels; thou shalt wash their\npetticoats, blankets, and chemises.\"\n\n\"I, Lord God!\" said she.\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"Thou hast ruled them long, living on the earnings of their bodies\nand leaving them poor and hungry. Thou mayst whine and bellow, it\nshall be as I have said.\"\n\nThereupon the four girls began to laugh and mock at the Stevenyne,\nand say to her, putting out their tongues:\n\n\"To each her turn in this world. Who would have said it of Stevenyne\nthe miser? She shall work for us as a servant. Blessed be the lord\nUlenspiegel!\"\n\nThen the three turned to Gilline:\n\n\"Thou wast her daughter, her support; thou didst share with her the\nfruits of thy foul spydom. Wilt thou ever dare again to strike and\ninsult us with thy brocade dress? Thou didst scorn us because we\nwere but fustian. Thou art clothed so richly only with the blood of\nvictims. Let us take her dress so that she may be even like ourselves.\"\n\n\"I will not have it,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd Gilline, leaping on his neck, said:\n\n\"Blessed be thou that hast not killed me, and wouldst not have\nme ugly!\"\n\nAnd the girls, jealous, looked at Ulenspiegel, and said:\n\n\"He has lost his wits for her like all the men.\"\n\nGilline sang to her viol.\n\nThe seven set out towards Peteghem, taking with them the catchpolls and\nthe girls along by the Lys. As they went on their way they murmured:\n\n\"'T is van te beven de klinkaert; 't is van te beven de klinkaert!\"\n\nAs the sun was rising they came to the camp, sang like the lark, and\nthe clarion of the cock made them answer. The girls and the catchpolls\nwere closely guarded. For all that, on the third day Gilline was found\ndead, her heart pierced through with a great needle. The Stevenyne was\naccused by the three girls and brought before the captain of the band,\nhis dizeniers and sergeants formed into a tribunal. There, without\ntheir having to put her to the torture, she confessed that she had\nkilled Gilline through jealousy of her beauty and rage because the\ndamsel treated her as her servant pitilessly. And the Stevenyne was\nhanged, and afterwards buried in the wood.\n\nGilline, too, was buried, and the prayers for the dead were said\nabove her sweet body.\n\nMeanwhile, the two catchpolls instructed by Ulenspiegel had gone before\nthe castellan of Courtray, for the tumult, uproar, and pillage made in\nthe Stevenyne's house must needs be punished by the said castellan, as\nthe Stevenyne's house was in the castle ward, outside the jurisdiction\nof the town of Courtray. After having narrated to the lord castellan\nwhat had taken place, they told him with great conviction and humble\nsincerity of language:\n\n\"The murderers of the preachers are in no wise Ulenspiegel and\nhis trusty and well-beloved Lamme Goedzak, who went to the Rainbow\npurely for their repose and refreshment. They even have passes from\nthe duke, and we have seen these ourselves. The real culprits are two\nGhent merchants, one a lean man and the other very fat, who went away\ntowards France, after breaking everything at Stevenyne's, taking her\naway with her four girls along with them for their pleasure. We had\nthem well and duly taken prisoners, but there were in the house seven\nbutchers, the strongest in the town, who took their side. They tied\nus all up and only let us go when they were far away on the French\nsoil. And here are the marks of the ropes. The four other catchpolls\nare on their tracks, waiting for a reinforcement to lay hands on them.\"\n\nThe castellan gave each of them two carolus and a new coat for their\nloyal services.\n\nHe then wrote to the Council of Flanders, to the Sheriff's Court at\nCourtray, and to other courts of justice to announce to them that\nthe real murderers had been discovered.\n\nAnd he recounted to them the whole adventure in detail and at length.\n\nWhereat the people of the Council of Flanders and the other courts\nof justice shuddered.\n\nAnd the castellan was greatly praised for his perspicacity.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel and Lamme journeyed in peace upon the road from\nPeteghem to Ghent, along the Lys, wishing to arrive at Bruges, where\nLamme hoped to find his wife, and at Damme, where Ulenspiegel, all\na-dream, would have wished to be already, to see Nele, who lived in\nsadness with Katheline the madwife.\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXVI\n\nDuring a long while, in the country of Damme and round about, there\nhad been committed several abominable crimes. Lasses, young men, old\nmen, who had been known to go forth carrying money in the direction of\nBruges, Ghent, or some other town or village of Flanders, were found\ndead, naked as worms and bitten in the back of the neck by teeth so\nlong and so sharp that they all had the bones of their necks broken.\n\nPhysicians and barber-surgeons declared that these were the teeth of\na huge wolf. \"Robbers,\" said they, \"had doubtless come up, after the\nwolf, and had stripped the victims.\"\n\nDespite all search, no man could ever discover who were the\nrobbers. Soon the wolf was forgotten.\n\nSeveral townsmen of note, who had proudly set forth on their way\nwithout an escort, disappeared without any one knowing what had\nbecome of them, save that at times some country fellow, going out\nin the morning to plough the earth, found wolf tracks in his field,\nwhile his dog, digging in the furrows with his paws, brought to\nlight a poor dead corpse carrying the marks of the wolf's teeth on\nthe nape or under the ear, and oftentimes on the leg, too, and always\nbehind. And always the neckbone and legbone were broken.\n\nThe peasant, affrighted, would go off at once to give information to\nthe bailiff, who would come with the clerk of the court, two aldermen,\nand two surgeons to the place where lay the body of the murdered\nman. Having visited it diligently and carefully, having sometimes when\nthe face was not eaten by worms recognized its quality, even its name\nand lineage, they were nevertheless always astonied that the wolf,\na beast that kills for hunger, should not have carried off some part\nof the dead man.\n\nAnd the folk of Damme were sore terrified, and no woman dared to go\nout by night without an escort.\n\nNow it came that several valiant soldiers were sent out to look for\nthe wolf, with orders to hunt for it day and night in the dunes,\nalong by the sea.\n\nThey were then near Heyst, among the great dunes. Night had come. One\nof them, confident in his strength, wanted to leave them to go alone on\nthe hunt, armed with a musket. The others allowed him, certain that,\nvaliant and armed as he was, he would kill the wolf if he dared to\nshow himself.\n\nTheir comrade having gone, they lit a fire and played at dice while\ndrinking brandy out of their flasks.\n\nAnd from time to time they called out:\n\n\"Now, then, comrade, come back; the wolf is afraid; come and drink!\"\n\nAnd he made no answer.\n\nSuddenly, hearing a great cry as of a man that is at the point of\ndeath, they ran in the direction whence the cry came, saying:\n\n\"Hold on, we are coming to the rescue!\"\n\nBut they were long before they found their comrade, for some said the\ncry came from the valley, others that it came from the highest dune.\n\nAt length, when they had well searched dune and valley with their\nlanterns, they found their comrade bitten in the leg and in the arm,\nfrom behind, and his neck broken like the other victims.\n\nLying on his back, he was holding his sword in his clenched fist;\nhis musket was on the sand. By his side were three severed fingers,\nwhich they carried off, and which were not his fingers. His pouch\nhad been taken.\n\nThey took up on their shoulders their comrade's body, his good sword,\nand his gallant musket, and grieved and angry, they carried the corpse\nto the bailiff's where the bailiff received them in the company of\nthe clerk of the court, two aldermen, and two surgeons.\n\nThe severed fingers were examined and recognized as the fingers of\nan old man, who was no worker at any trade, for the fingers were\nlong and tapering, and the nails were long as the nails of lawyers\nand churchmen.\n\nNext day the bailiff, the aldermen, the clerk, the surgeons, and the\nsoldiers went to the place where the poor slain man had been bitten,\nand saw that there were drops of blood upon the grass and footmarks\nthat went as far as the sea, where they ceased.\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXVII\n\nIt was at the time of the ripened grapes, in the wine month and the\nfourth day of it, when in the city of Brussels they throw, from the\ntop of the tower of Saint Nicholas after high mass, bags of walnuts\ndown to the people.\n\nAt night Nele was awakened by cries coming from the street. She looked\nfor Katheline in the room and found her not. She ran down and opened\nthe door, and Katheline came in saying:\n\n\"Save me! Save me! the wolf! the wolf!\"\n\nAnd Nele heard in the country far-off howlings. Trembling, she lighted\nall the lamps, wax tapers, and candles.\n\n\"What has happened, Katheline?\" said she, clasping her in her arms.\n\nKatheline sat down, with haggard eyes, and said, looking at the\ncandles:\n\n\"'Tis the sun, he driveth away evil spirits. The wolf, the wolf is\nhowling in the countryside.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Nele, \"why did you leave your bed where you were warm,\nto go and take a fever in the damp nights of September?\"\n\nAnd Katheline said:\n\n\"Hanske cried last night like an osprey; and I opened the door. And\nhe said to me: 'Take the drink of vision,' and I drank. Hanske is\ngoodly to look upon. Take away the fire. Then he brought me down\nto the canal and said to me: 'Katheline, I will give thee back the\nseven hundred carolus; thou shalt restore them to Ulenspiegel the son\nof Claes. Here be two to buy thee a robe; thou shalt have a thousand\nsoon.' 'A thousand,' said I, 'my beloved, I shall then be rich.' 'Thou\nshalt have them,' said he. 'But is there none in Damme who, woman or\ndamsel, is now as rich as thou wilt be?' 'I know not,' I answered. But\nI had no mind to tell their names for fear he might love them. Then he\nsaid to me: 'Find this out and tell me their names when I come back.'\n\n\"The air was chill, the mist rolled over the meadows, the dry twigs\nwere falling from the trees upon the roadway. And the moon was shining,\nand there were fires on the water of the canal. Hanske said to me:\n'It is the night of the were-wolves; all guilty souls come forth out\nof hell. Thou must make the sign of the cross thrice with the left\nhand and cry: Salt! Salt! Salt! which is the emblem of immortality, and\nthey will do thee no hurt.' And I said: 'I shall do what thou desirest,\nHanske, my darling.' He kissed me, saying: 'Thou art my wife.' 'Aye,'\nsaid I. And at his gentle word a heavenly happiness glided over my\nbody like an ointment. He crowned me with roses and said to me: 'Thou\nart fair.' And I said to him: 'Thou art fair, too, Hanske, my darling,\nand goodly in thy fine raiment of green velvet with gold trimmings,\nwith thy long ostrich feather that floats from thy bonnet, and thy\nface pale as the fire upon the waves of the sea. And if the girls of\nDamme saw thee, they would all run after thee, beseeching thee for\nthy heart; but thou must give it only to me alone, Hanske.' He said:\n'Endeavour to know which are the richest; their fortune will be for\nthee.' Then he went away, leaving me after straitly forbidding me to\nfollow him.\n\n\"I stayed there, chinking the three carolus in my hand, all shivering\nand frozen by reason of the mist, when I saw coming up from a steep\nbank and climbing the slope a wolf that had a green face and long\nreeds among his white hair. I cried out: Salt! Salt! Salt! making\nthe sign of the cross, but he seemed to be in no dread of it. And\nI ran with all my might, I crying, he howling, and I heard the dry\nclashing of his teeth close upon me, and once so near to my shoulder\nthat I thought that he was about to catch me. But I ran faster than\nhe did. By great good luck, I met at the corner of the street of\nthe Heron the night watch with his lantern. 'The wolf! the wolf!' I\ncried. 'Be not afraid,' said the watchman to me, 'I will take you\nhome, Katheline the madwife.' And I felt that his hand, holding me,\nwas shaking. And he was afraid like me.\"\n\n\"But he hath got back his courage,\" said Nele. \"Do you hear him now\nchanting in a drawling voice: 'De clock is tien tien aen de clock':\nIt is ten o' the clock, o' the clock ten! And he springs his rattle.\"\n\n\"Take away the fire,\" said Katheline, \"my head burns. Come back,\nHanske, my darling.\"\n\nAnd Nele looked on Katheline, and she prayed Our Lady the Virgin\nto take away from her head the fire of madness; and she wept over\nher mother.\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXVIII\n\nAt Belleau, on the banks of the Bruges canal, Ulenspiegel and Lamme\nmet a horseman wearing three cock's feathers in his felt hat and\nriding at full speed towards Ghent. Ulenspiegel sang like a lark and\nthe horseman, pulling up, answered with the clarion of Chanticleer.\n\n\"Dost thou bring tidings, headlong horseman?\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Great tidings,\" said the horseman. \"On the advice of M. de Ch\u00e2tillon\nwho is in the land of France the admiral of the sea, the prince of\nfreedom hath given commissions to equip ships of war, beyond those\nthat are already armed at Emden and in East Frisia. The valiant men\nwho have received these commissions are Adrien de Berghes, Sieur\nde Dolhain; his brother Louis of Hainaut; the Baron of Montfaucon;\nthe Sieur Louis de Brederode; Albert d'Egmont the son of the beheaded\ncount and no traitor like his brother; Berthel Enthens of Mentheda,\nthe Frisian; Adrien Menningh; Hembuyse the hot and proud man of Ghent;\nand Jan Brock.\n\n\"The prince hath given all his having, more than fifty thousand\nflorins.\"\n\n\"I have five hundred for him,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Take them to the sea,\" said the horseman.\n\nAnd he went off at a gallop.\n\n\"He gives all his having,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"We others, we give\nnothing but our skins.\"\n\n\"Is that nothing then,\" said Lamme, \"and shall we never have aught\ntalked of but sack and massacre? The orange is on the ground.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"on the ground, like the oak; but with the\noak they build the ships of freedom!\"\n\n\"For his profit,\" said Lamme. \"But since there is no danger now,\nlet us buy asses again. I like to march sitting, for my part, and\nwithout having a chime of blister-bells on the soles of my feet.\"\n\n\"Let us buy asses,\" said Ulenspiegel; \"these are beasts it is easy\nto sell again.\"\n\nThey went to market and found there, by paying for them, two fine\nasses with their equipment.\n\n\n\n\n\nXXXIX\n\nAs they rode on astraddle, they came to Oost-Camp, where there is a\ngreat wood the fringe of which touched the canal.\n\nSeeking therein shade and sweet fragrance, they went into it, without\nseeing anything but the long forest alleys going in every direction\ntowards Bruges, Ghent, South Flanders, and North Flanders.\n\nSuddenly Ulenspiegel jumped down from his ass.\n\n\"Dost thou see nothing yonder?\"\n\nLamme said:\n\n\"Aye, I see.\" And trembling: \"My wife, my good wife! 'Tis she, my\nson. Ha! I cannot walk to her. To find her thus!\"\n\n\"What are you complaining of?\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"She is beautiful thus half-naked, in this muslin tunic cut in open\nwork that lets the fresh skin be seen. That one is too young; she is\nnot your wife.\"\n\n\"My son,\" said Lamme, \"it is she, my son; I know her. Carry me. I can\ngo no more. Who would have thought it of her? To dance clad in this\nway like an Egyptian, shamelessly! Aye, it is she; see her shapely\nlegs, her arms bare to the shoulder, her breasts round and golden\nhalf emerging from her muslin tunic. See how with that red flag she\nexcites that great dog jumping up at it.\"\n\n\"'Tis a dog of Egypt,\" said Ulenspiegel; \"the Low Countries give none\nof that kind.\"\n\n\"Egypt ... I do not know.... But it is she. Ha! my son, I can see no\nmore. She plucks up her breeches higher to show more of her round\nlegs. She laughs to show her white teeth, and loudly to let the\nsound of her sweet voice be heard. She opens her tunic at the top and\nthrows herself back. Ha! that swan neck amorous, those bare shoulders,\nthose bright bold eyes! I run to her!\"\n\nAnd he leaped from his ass.\n\nBut Ulenspiegel, stopping him:\n\n\"This girl,\" said he, \"is not your wife. We are near a camp of\nEgyptians. Beware.... See you the smoke behind the trees? Hear you\nthe barking of the dogs? There, here are some looking at us, ready\nto bite perhaps. Let us hide deeper in the brake.\"\n\n\"I will not hide,\" said Lamme; \"this woman is mine, as Flemish as\nourselves.\"\n\n\"Blind and madman,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Blind, nay! I see her well, dancing, half-naked, laughing and teasing\nthis great dog. She feigns not to see us. But she does see us, I assure\nyou. Thyl, Thyl! there is the dog hurling himself on her and throws her\ndown to have the red flag. And she falls, uttering a plaintive cry.\"\n\nAnd Lamme suddenly dashed towards her, saying to her:\n\n\"My wife, my wife! where are you hurt, darling? Why do you laugh so\nloud? Your eyes are haggard.\"\n\nAnd he kissed her and caressed her and said:\n\n\"That beauty spot you had under the left breast, I see it not. Where\nis it? Thou art not my wife. Great God of Heaven!\"\n\nAnd she never stopped laughing.\n\nSuddenly Ulenspiegel cried out:\n\n\"Guard thee, Lamme!\"\n\nAnd Lamme, turning about, saw before him a great blackamoor of an\nEgyptian, of a sour countenance, brown as peper-koek, which is ginger\nbread in the land of France.\n\nLamme picked up his pikestaff, and putting himself to his defence,\nhe cried out:\n\n\"To the rescue, Ulenspiegel!\"\n\nUlenspiegel was there with his good sword.\n\nThe Egyptian said to him in High German:\n\n\"Gibt mi ghelt, ein Richsthaler auf tsein.\" (Give me money, a\nricksdaelder or ten.)\n\n\"See,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"the girl goes away laughing loudly and even\nturning round to ask to be followed.\"\n\n\"Gibt mi ghelt,\" said the man. \"Pay for your amours. We are poor folk\nand wish you no harm.\"\n\nLamme gave him a carolus.\n\n\"What trade dost thou follow?\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"All trades,\" replied the Egyptian: \"being master of arts in\nsuppleness, we do miraculous and magic tricks. We play on the\ntambourine and dance Hungarian dances. More than one among us make\ncages and gridirons to roast fine carbonadoes therewith. But all,\nFlemings and Walloons, are feared of us and drive us forth. As\nwe cannot live by trade, we live by marauding, that is to say,\non vegetables, meat, and poultry that we must needs take from the\npeasant, since he will neither give nor sell them to us.\"\n\nLamme said to him:\n\n\"Whence comes this girl, who is so like to my wife?\"\n\n\"She is our chief's daughter,\" said the blackamoor.\n\nThen speaking low like a man in fear:\n\n\"She was smitten by God with the malady of love and knows naught of\nwoman's modesty. As soon as she seeth a man, she entereth on gaiety\nand wildness, and laughs without ceasing. She saith little; she was\nlong thought to be dumb. By night, in sadness, she stays before the\nfire, weeping at whiles or laughing without reason, and pointing to\nher belly, where, she saith, she hath a hurt. At the hour of noon,\nin summer, after the meal, her sharpest madness cometh upon her. Then\nshe goeth to dance near naked on the outskirts of the camp. She will\nwear naught but raiment of tulle or muslin, and in winter we have\ngreat trouble to cover her with a cloak of cloth of goat's hair.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Lamme, \"hath she not some man friend to prevent her from\nabandoning herself thus to all comers?\"\n\n\"She hath none,\" said the man, \"for travellers, coming near her and\nbeholding her eyes distraught, have more of fear than desire for\nher. This big man was a bold one,\" said he, pointing to Lamme.\n\n\"Let him talk, my son,\" said Ulenspiegel; \"it is the stockvisch\nslandering the whale. Which of the two is the one that gives most oil?\"\n\n\"You have a sharp tongue this morning,\" said Lamme.\n\nBut Ulenspiegel, without listening to him, said to the Egyptian:\n\n\"What doth she when others are as bold as my friend Lamme?\"\n\nThe Egyptian answered sadly:\n\n\"Then she hath pleasure and gain. Those who win her pay for their\ndelight, and the money serves to clothe her and also for the\nnecessities of the old men and the women.\"\n\n\"She obeyeth none then?\" said Lamme.\n\nThe Egyptian answered:\n\n\"Let us allow those whom God hath smitten to do as they wish. Thus\nhe marks his will. And such is our law.\"\n\nUlenspiegel and Lamme went away. And the Egyptian returned thence to\nhis camp, grave and proud. And the girl, laughing wildly, danced in\nthe clearing.\n\n\n\n\n\nXL\n\nGoing on their way to Bruges, Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:\n\n\"We have disbursed a heavy sum of money in the enlisting of soldiers,\nin payment to the catchpolls, the gift to the Egyptian girl, and those\ninnumerable olie-koekjes that it pleased you to eat without ceasing\nrather than to sell a single one. Now notwithstanding your belly-will,\nit is time to live more circumspectly. Give me your money. I will\nkeep the common purse.\"\n\n\"I am willing,\" said Lamme. And giving it to him: \"All the same,\ndo not leave me to die of hunger,\" said he, \"for think on it, big and\nstrong as I am, I must have substantial and abundant nourishment. It is\nwell for you, a thin and wretched fellow, to live from hand to mouth,\neating or not eating what you pick up, like planks that live on air\nand rain on the quays. But for me, whom air hollows and rain hungers,\nI must needs have other feasts.\"\n\n\"You shall have them,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"feasts of virtuous Lents. The\nbest filled paunches cannot resist them; deflating little by little,\nthey make the heaviest light. And presently will Lamme my darling be\nseen sufficiently thinned down, running like a stag.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said Lamme. \"What henceforth will be my starveling fate? I\nam hungry, my son, and would fain have supper.\"\n\nNight was falling. They arrived in Bruges by the Ghent gate. They\nshowed their passes. Having had to pay one demi-sol for themselves\nand two for their asses, they entered into the town; Lamme, thinking\nof Ulenspiegel's word, seemed brokenhearted.\n\n\"Shall we have supper, soon?\" said he.\n\n\"Aye,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\nThey alighted in de Meermin, at the Siren, a weathercock which is\nfixed all in gold above the gable of the inn.\n\nThey put their asses in the stable, and Ulenspiegel ordered, for his\nsupper and Lamme's, bread, beer, and cheese.\n\nThe host grinned when serving this lean meal: Lamme ate with hungry\nteeth, looking in despair at Ulenspiegel labouring with his jaws\nupon the too-old bread and the too-young cheese, as if they had been\nortolans. And Lamme drank his small beer with no pleasure. Ulenspiegel\nlaughed to see him so miserable. And there was also someone that\nlaughed in the courtyard of the inn and came at whiles to show her\nface at the window. Ulenspiegel saw that it was a woman that hid her\nface. Thinking it was some sly servant he thought no more of it, and\nseeing Lamme pale, sad, and livid because of his thwarted belly loves,\nhe had pity and thought of ordering for his companion an omelette\nof black puddings, a dish of beef and beans, or any other hot dish,\nwhen the baes came in and said, doffing his headgear:\n\n\"If messires the travellers desire a better supper, they will speak\nand say what they want.\"\n\nLamme opened wide eyes and his mouth wider still and looked at\nUlenspiegel with an anguished distress.\n\nThe latter replied:\n\n\"Wandering workmen are not rich men.\"\n\n\"It nevertheless happens,\" said the baes, \"that they do not always\nknow all their possessions.\" And pointing to Lamme: \"That good phiz is\nworth two. What would Your Lordships please to eat and to drink--an\nomelette with fat ham, choesels, we made some to-day, castrelins, a\ncapon melting under the tooth, a fine grilled carbonado with a sauce\nof four spices, dobbel-knol of Antwerp, dobbel-cuyt of Bruges, wine\nof Louvain prepared after the manner of Burgundy? And nothing to pay.\"\n\n\"Bring all,\" said Lamme.\n\nThe table was soon laid, and Ulenspiegel took his delight to see\npoor Lamme who, more famished than ever, precipitated himself upon\nthe omelette, the choesels, the capon, the ham, the carbonadoes,\nand poured down his throat in quarts the dobbel-knol, the dobbel-cuyt\nand the Louvain wine prepared after the manner of Burgundy.\n\nWhen he could eat no more, he puffed with comfort like a whale, and\nlooked about him over the table to see if there was nothing left to\nput under his tooth. And he ate the crumbs of the castrelins.\n\nNeither he nor Ulenspiegel had seen the pretty face look smiling\nthrough the panes, pass and repass in the courtyard. The baes\nhaving brought some wine mulled with cinnamon and Madeira sugar,\nthey continued to drink. And they sang.\n\nAt the curfew, he asked them if they would go upstairs each to his\nlarge and goodly bedchamber. Ulenspiegel replied that a small one\nwould suffice for them both. The baes replied:\n\n\"I have none such; ye shall each have a lord's chamber, and nothing\nto pay.\"\n\nAnd indeed and in verity he brought them into chambers richly adorned\nwith furniture and carpets. In Lamme's there was a great bed.\n\nUlenspiegel, who had well drunk and was falling with sleep, left him\nto go to bed and promptly did likewise.\n\nThe next day, at the hour of noon, he entered Lamme's chamber and saw\nhim sleeping and snoring. Beside him was a pretty little satchel full\nof money. He opened it and saw it was gold carolus and silver patards.\n\nHe shook Lamme to wake him. The other came out of his sleep, rubbed\nhis eyes and, looking round him uneasily, said:\n\n\"My wife! where is my wife?\"\n\nAnd showing an empty place beside him in the bed.\n\n\"She was there but now,\" said he.\n\nThen leaping out of the bed, he looked everywhere again, searched in\nall the nooks and corners of the chamber, the alcove and the cupboards,\nand said, stamping his foot:\n\n\"My wife! Where is my wife?\"\n\nThe baes came up at the noise.\n\n\"Rascal,\" said Lamme, catching him by the throat, \"where is my\nwife? What hast thou done with my wife?\"\n\n\"Impatient tramper,\" said the baes, \"thy wife? What wife? Thou didst\ncome alone. I know naught.\"\n\n\"Ha! he knows naught,\" said Lamme, ferreting once more in all the nooks\nand corners of the room. \"Alas! she was there, last night, in my bed,\nas in the time of our good loves. Aye. Where art thou, my darling?\"\n\nAnd flinging the purse on the ground:\n\n\"'Tis not thy money I want, 'tis thou, thy sweet body, thy kind\nheart, O my beloved! O heavenly joys! Ye will come back no more. I\nhad grown hardened not to see thee, to live without love, my sweet\ntreasure. And lo, having come to me again, thou dost abandon me. But\nI will die. Ha! my wife? Where is my wife?\"\n\nAnd he wept with scalding tears on the ground where he had cast\nhimself. Then all at once opening the door, he started to run\nthroughout the whole of the inn, and into the street, in his shirt,\ncrying:\n\n\"My wife? Where is my wife?\"\n\nBut soon he came back, for the mischievous boys hooted him and threw\nstones at him.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel said to him, forcing him to clothe himself:\n\n\"Do not be so overwhelmed; you shall see her again, since you have\nseen her. She loves you still, since she came back to you, since it\nwas doubtless she that paid for the supper and for the lordly chambers,\nand that put on your bed this full pouch. The ashes tell me that this\nis not the doing of a faithless wife. Weep no more, and let us march\nforth for the defence of the land of our fathers.\"\n\n\"Let us still remain in Bruges,\" said Lamme; \"I would fain run through\nthe whole town, and I will find her.\"\n\n\"You will not find her, since she is hiding from you,\" said\nUlenspiegel.\n\nLamme asked for explanations from the baes, but the other would tell\nhim nothing.\n\nAnd they went away towards Damme.\n\n\n\nWhile they went on their way, Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:\n\n\"Why do you not tell me how you found her beside you, last night,\nand how she left you?\"\n\n\"My son,\" replied Lamme, \"you know that we had feasted on meat, on\nbeer, on wine, and that I could hardly breathe when we went off to\nbed. I held a wax candle in my hand, like a lord, to light me and had\nput down the candlestick on a chest to sleep; the door had remained\najar, the chest was close to it. Undressing, I looked on my bed with\ngreat love and desire for sleep; the wax candle suddenly went out. I\nheard as it were a breath and a sound of light feet in my chamber;\nbut being more sleepy than afraid, I lay down heavily. As I was about\nto fall asleep, a voice--her voice, O my wife, my poor wife!--said\nto me: 'Have you supped well, Lamme?' and her voice was beside me,\nand her face, too, and her sweet body.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nXLI\n\nOn that day Philip the king, having eaten too much pastry, was more\nmelancholy than usual. He had played upon his living harpsichord,\nwhich was a case containing cats whose heads came out through round\nopenings above the keys. Every time the king struck a key, the key\nin turn struck a cat with a dart, and the beast mewed and complained\nby reason of the pain.\n\nBut Philip never laughed.\n\nUnceasingly, he sought in his mind how he could conquer the great\nqueen, Elizabeth, and set up Mary Stuart on the throne of England. With\nthis object he had written to the Pope who was needy and full of debts;\nthe Pope had replied that for this enterprise he would gladly sell\nthe holy vessels of the temples and the treasures of the Vatican.\n\nBut Philip never laughed.\n\nRidolfi, Queen Mary's favourite, who hoped, by delivering her, to\nmarry her afterwards and become king of England, came to see Philip\nand with him plot the murder of Elizabeth. But he was so \"parlanchin,\"\nas the king wrote, so given to talking, that his designs were openly\ntalked about in the Antwerp Bourse; and the murder was never committed.\n\nAnd Philip never laughed.\n\nLater, in accordance with the king's orders, the bloody duke sent two\ncouples of assassins into England. They succeeded in getting hanged.\n\nAnd Philip never laughed.\n\nAnd thus God brought to naught and thwarted the ambition of this\nvampire, who looked to remove her son from Mary Stuart and to reign in\nhis stead, with the Pope, over England. And the murderer was irritated\nto see this noble country so great and powerful. He never ceased to\nturn his pale eyes towards it, seeking how he might crush it so as\nto reign thereafter over the whole world, exterminate the reformers,\nand especially the rich, and inherit the victim's wealth.\n\nBut he never laughed.\n\nAnd mice and field mice were brought to him in an iron box, with high\nsides, and open of one side; and he put the bottom of the box on a\nhot fire and took his pleasure in seeing and hearing the poor little\nbeasts leaping, moaning, and dying.\n\nBut he never laughed.\n\nThen pale and with trembling hand he went to the arms of Madame\nd'Eboli, to slake the fire of his lust lit by the torch of cruelty.\n\nAnd he never laughed.\n\nAnd Madame d'Eboli received him for fear and not for love.\n\n\n\n\n\nXLII\n\nThe air was warm: from the quiet sea there came not a breath\nof wind. Scarce did the trees by the canal of Damme shiver, the\ngrasshoppers dwelt in the meadows, while in the fields men from the\nchurches and the abbeys came to fetch the thirteenth part of the\nharvest for the cur\u00e9s and the abbots. Out of the sky, blue, ardent,\ndeep, the sun poured down warmth and Nature slept under his rays\nlike a fair girl naked and swooning under her lover's caresses. The\ncarps were cutting capers above the surface of the canal to seize the\nflies that buzzed like a kettle; while the swallows, with their long\nbodies and great wings, disputed the prey with them. From the earth\nrose a warm vapour, wavering and shimmering in the light. The beadle\nof Damme announced from the top of the tower, by means of a cracked\nbell sounding like a pot, that it was noon and time for the country\nfolk working at the haymaking to go to dinner. Women cried long and\nloud, holding their closed hands funnel-wise, calling in their men,\nbrothers or husbands, by name: Hans, Pieter, Joos; and one might see\ntheir red hoods above the hedges.\n\nFar off, in the eyes of Lamme and Ulenspiegel, rose lofty, square,\nand massive the tower of Notre Dame, and Lamme said:\n\n\"There, my son, are thy griefs and thy love.\"\n\nBut Ulenspiegel made no answer.\n\n\"Soon,\" said Lamme, \"shall I see my ancient home and perchance\nmy wife.\"\n\nBut Ulenspiegel made no answer.\n\n\"Man of wood,\" said Lamme, \"heart of stone, nothing then can affect\nyou, neither the nearness of the places in which you spent your\nboyhood, nor the dear shades of poor Claes and poor Soetkin, the two\nmartyrs. What! you are neither sad nor glad; what then hath dried up\nyour heart in this way? Look at me, anxious, uneasy, bounding in my\nbelly; look at me....\"\n\nLamme looked at Ulenspiegel and saw him with head livid, pale and\nhanging, his lips trembling, and weeping without saying a word.\n\nAnd he held his tongue.\n\nThey marched thus in silence as far as Damme, and came into it\nby the street of the Heron, and saw no one in it, because of the\nheat. The dogs, with their tongues hanging out, lying on their sides,\nwere gaping before the thresholds of the doors. Lamme and Ulenspiegel\npassed directly in front of the Townhall, before which Claes had been\nburned; the lips of Ulenspiegel trembled more, and his tears dried\nup. Finding himself over against the house of Claes, occupied by a\ncoalman, he said to him as he went within:\n\n\"Dost thou know me? I am fain to rest here.\"\n\nThe master coalman said:\n\n\"I know thee; thou art the son of the victim. Go wherever thou wouldst\nin this house.\"\n\nUlenspiegel went into the kitchen, then into the bedchamber of Claes\nand Soetkin, and there he wept.\n\nWhen he had come down thence, the master coalman said to him:\n\n\"Here are bread, cheese, and beer. If thou art hungry, eat; if thou\nart thirsty, drink.\"\n\nUlenspiegel signed with his hand that he was neither hungry nor\nthirsty.\n\nHe walked thus with Lamme, who stayed astraddle on his ass, while\nUlenspiegel held his by the halter.\n\nThey arrived at Katheline's cottage, tied up their asses, and went\nin. It was meal time. There were on the table haricots in their pods\nmixed with great white beans. Katheline was eating; Nele was standing\nand ready to pour into Katheline's plate a vinegar sauce she had just\ntaken from the fire.\n\nWhen Ulenspiegel came in, she was so startled that she put the pot and\nall the sauce in Katheline's plate, who, nodding her head, began to\nhunt for the beans around the saucepot with her spoon, and striking\nherself on the forehead, repeated like a madwoman:\n\n\"Take away the fire! My head is burning!\"\n\nThe smell of the vinegar made Lamme hungry.\n\nUlenspiegel remained standing, looking at Nele, smiling with love\nthrough his great sadness.\n\nAnd Nele, without a word, threw her arms about his neck. She, too,\nseemed bereft of her wits; she wept, laughed; and red with great and\nsweet joy, she said only: \"Thyl! Thyl!\" Ulenspiegel, happy, gazed\nat her; then she left him, went and stationed herself farther off,\ncontemplated him with joy and from there once again sprang upon him,\nthrowing her arms about his neck; and so several times over. He\nheld her, very happy, unable to sever from her, until she fell upon\na chair, wearied out and as though out of her senses; and she said\nwithout any shame:\n\n\"Thyl! Thyl! my beloved, and so there you are back again!\"\n\nLamme was standing at the door; when Nele was calmed, she said,\npointing to him:\n\n\"Where have I seen this big man?\"\n\n\"This is my friend,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"He is seeking for his wife\nin my company.\"\n\n\"I know thee,\" said Nele, speaking to Lamme; \"thou didst use to\ndwell in the street of the Heron. Thou art seeking thy wife; I saw\nher at Bruges, living in all piety and devoutness. Having asked\nher why she had so cruelly abandoned her husband, she answered me:\n'Such was the holy will of God and the order of the holy Penance,\nbut I cannot live with him henceforth.'\"\n\nLamme was sad at this word, and looked at the beans in vinegar. And the\nlarks, singing, sprang aloft in the sky, and Nature in ecstasy allowed\nherself to be caressed by the sun. And Katheline with her spoon picked\nout all round the pot the white beans, the green pods, and the sauce.\n\n\n\n\n\nXLIII\n\n\nAt this time a girl of fifteen went from Heyst to Knokke, alone,\nin broad daylight, through the dunes. No one had any fears for her,\nfor it was well known that weer-wolves and evil spirits of the damned\nbite only by night. She was carrying in a pouch forty-eight sols in\nsilver, of the value of four florins carolus, which her mother Toria\nPieterson, who lived at Heyst, owed, out of the proceeds of a sale,\nto her uncle, Jan Rapen, who lived at Knokke. The girl, by name Betkin,\nhaving donned all her best finery, had gone off gaily.\n\nThat night her mother was uneasy not to see her come home; still,\nthinking she had slept at her uncle's house, she reassured herself.\n\nThe next day certain fishermen, coming back from sea with a boat full\nof fish, hauled their boat up on the beach and unloaded their fish into\ncarts, to sell it by auction, cart by cart, in Heyst. They climbed\nup the road, strewn with broken shells, and found among the dunes a\nyoung girl stripped quite naked, even of her chemise, and blood around\nher. Coming near, they saw in her poor broken neck the marks of long,\nsharp teeth. Lying on her back, her eyes were open, staring at the sky,\nand her mouth was open, too, as if to cry out on death!\n\nCovering the girl's body with an opperst-kleed, they brought it to\nHeyst, to the Townhall. Thither speedily assembled the aldermen and\nthe barber-surgeon, who declared that those long teeth were never\nwolf's teeth as they were made by Nature, but belonged to some wicked\nand evil and infernal weer-wolf, and that it behoved all men to pray\nto God to deliver the land of Flanders.\n\nAnd in all the country and especially at Damme, Heyst, and Knokke,\nwere ordained prayers and orisons.\n\nAnd the people, groaning, remained in the churches.\n\nIn the church of Heyst, where the corpse of the young girl was laid\nout and exposed, men and women wept, seeing her neck all bloody and\ntorn. And the mother said in the very church:\n\n\"I will go to the weer-wolf and kill him with my teeth.\"\n\nAnd the women, weeping, egged her on to do this. And some said:\n\n\"Thou wilt never come back.\"\n\nAnd she went, with her husband and her two brothers well armed, to\nhunt for the wolf by beach, dune, and valley, but never found him. And\nher husband was obliged to take her home, for she had caught fever\nby reason of the night cold; and they watched beside her, mending\ntheir nets for the next fishing day.\n\nThe bailiff of Damme, bethinking himself that the weer-wolf is a beast\nthat lives on blood and does not strip the dead, said that this one\nwas doubtless followed by robbers wandering about the dunes seeking\ntheir evil gain. Wherefore he summoned by the sound of the church\nbell all and sundry, directing them to fall well armed and furnished\nwith cudgels upon all beggars and tramping ruffians, to apprehend\ntheir persons and search them to see if they might not have in their\nsatchels gold carolus or any portion of the victim's raiment. And after\nthis the able-bodied beggars and tramps should be taken to the king's\ngalleys. And the aged and infirm should be allowed to go their ways.\n\nBut they found nothing.\n\nUlenspiegel went to the bailiff's and said to him:\n\n\"I mean to slay the weer-wolf.\"\n\n\"What gives thee this confidence?\" asked the bailiff.\n\n\"The ashes beat upon my heart,\" answered Ulenspiegel. \"Grant me\npermission to work in the forge of the commune.\"\n\n\"Thou mayst do so,\" said the bailiff.\n\nUlenspiegel, without saying a word of his project to any man or woman\nin Damme, went off to the forge and there in secret he fashioned a\nfine and large-sized engine to trap wild beasts.\n\nThe next day, being Saturday, a day beloved of the weer-wolf,\nUlenspiegel, carrying a letter from the bailiff for the cur\u00e9 of Heyst,\nand the engine under his cloak, armed also with a good crossbow and\na well-sharpened cutlass, departed, saying to the folk in Damme:\n\n\"I am going to shoot sea-mews and I will make pillows for the bailiff's\nwife with their down.\"\n\nGoing towards Heyst, he came upon the beach, heard the boisterous sea\ncurling and breaking in big waves, roaring like thunder, and the wind\ncame from England whistling in the rigging of shipwrecked boats. A\nfisherman said to him:\n\n\"This is ruin to us, this ill wind. Last night the sea was still,\nbut after sunrise it got up suddenly into fury. We shall not be able\nto go a-fishing.\"\n\nUlenspiegel was glad, assured thus of having help during the night\nif there should be need.\n\nAt Heyst he went to the cur\u00e9, and gave him the letter from the\nbailiff. The cur\u00e9 said to him:\n\n\"Thou art bold: yet know that no man passes alone at night, by the\ndunes, on Saturday without being bitten and left dead on the sand. The\nworkmen on the dykes and others go there only in bands. Night is\nfalling. Dost thou hear the weer-wolf howling in his valley? Will he\ncome again as he did this last night, to cry terribly in the graveyard\nthe whole night long? God be with thee, my son, but go not thither.\"\n\nAnd the cur\u00e9 crossed himself.\n\n\"The ashes beat upon my heart,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nThe cur\u00e9 said:\n\n\"Since thou hast so stout a mind, I will help thee.\"\n\n\"Master cur\u00e9,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"you would do a great boon to me\nand to the poor desolated country by going to the house of Toria, the\nmother of the slain girl, and to her two brothers likewise to tell them\nthat the wolf is close at hand, and that I mean to await and kill him.\"\n\nThe cur\u00e9 said:\n\n\"If thou dost not yet know on what path thou shouldst take up thy\nstand, stay in that one that leads to the graveyard. It is between\ntwo hedges of broom. Two men could not walk in it side by side.\"\n\n\"I will take my stand there,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"And do you, valiant\nmaster cur\u00e9, co-worker of deliverance, order and enjoin the girl's\nmother, with her husband and her brothers, to be in the church, all\narmed, before the curfew. If they hear me whistling like the sea-mew,\nit will mean that I have seen the weer-wolf. They must then sound\nwacharm on the bell and come to my rescue. And if there are any other\nbrave men?...\"\n\n\"There are none, my son,\" replied the cur\u00e9. \"The fishermen fear the\nweer-wolf more than the plague and death. But go not thither.\"\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"The ashes beat upon my heart.\"\n\nThe cur\u00e9 said then:\n\n\"I shall do as thou wishest; be thou blessed. Art thou hungry or\nthirsty?\"\n\n\"Both,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\nThe cur\u00e9 gave him beer, bread, and cheese.\n\nUlenspiegel drank, ate, and went away.\n\nGoing along and raising his eyes, he saw his father Claes in glory,\nby the side of God, in the sky where the clear moon was shining,\nand looked at the sea and the clouds and he heard the tempestuous\nwind blowing out of England.\n\n\"Alas!\" said he, \"black clouds that pass so swift, be ye like Vengeance\nupon the heels of Murder. Roaring sea, sky that dost make thee black as\nthe mouth of hell, waves with the fire foam running along the sombre\nwater, shaking impatient, wrathful, ye animals innumerable of fire,\noxen, sheep, horses, serpents that wallow upon the sea or rise up\ninto the air, belching out a flaming rain, O sea all black, sky black\nwith mourning, come with me to fight against the weer-wolf, the foul\nmurderer of little girls. And thou, wind that wailest plaintively in\nthe bents on the dunes and in the cordage of the ships, thou art the\nvoice of the victims crying out for vengeance to God; may He be my\nhelper in this enterprise.\"\n\nAnd he went down into the valley, tottering on his two natural\nposts as if he had had the drunkard's wine-lees in his head and a\ncabbage-indigestion on his stomach.\n\nAnd he sang hiccuping, zigzagging, yawning, spitting, and stopping,\nplaying at a pretence of vomiting, but in reality opening his eyes\nwide to study closely everything about him, when suddenly he heard\na shrill howling; he stopped short, vomiting like a dog, and saw in\nthe light of the strong shining moon the long shape of a wolf walking\ntowards the cemetery.\n\nTottering again he entered on the path marked out among the\nbroom. There, feigning to fall, he set the engine on the side whence\nthe wolf was coming, made ready his crossbow, and moved away ten\npaces, standing in a drunken attitude, continually pretending to\nstagger about, to hiccup and vomit, but in verity stringing up his\nwits like a bow and keeping eyes and ears wide open.\n\nAnd he saw nothing, nothing but the black clouds running like mad\nthings over the sky and a large thick and short shape coming towards\nhim; and he heard nothing but the wind wailing plaintively, the sea\nroaring like thunder, and the shell-strewn road crackling under a\nheavy, stumbling tread.\n\nFeigning to want to sit down, he fell on the road like a drunkard,\nheavily. And he spat.\n\nThen he heard as it were iron clicking two paces from his ear, then\nthe noise of his engine shutting up and a man's cry.\n\n\"The weer-wolf,\" he said, \"has his front paws taken in the trap. He\ngets up howling, shaking the engine, trying to run. But he will\nnever escape.\"\n\nAnd he sped a crossbow dart into his legs.\n\n\"And now he falls, wounded,\" said he.\n\nAnd he whistled like a sea-mew.\n\nSuddenly the church bell rang out the wacharm, a shrill lad's voice\ncried through the village:\n\n\"Awake, ye sleeping folk, the weer-wolf is caught.\"\n\n\"Praise be to God!\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nToria, Betkin's mother, Lansaem her husband, Josse and Michiel her\nbrothers, came the first with their lanterns.\n\n\"He is taken?\" said they.\n\n\"See him on the roadway,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Praise be to God!\" said they.\n\nAnd they made the sign of the cross.\n\n\"Who is that ringing?\" asked Ulenspiegel.\n\nLansaem replied:\n\n\"My eldest boy; the youngest is running through the village knocking\nat the doors and crying that the wolf is taken. Praise be to thee!\"\n\n\"The ashes beat upon my heart,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\nSuddenly the weer-wolf spake and said:\n\n\"Have pity upon me, pity, Ulenspiegel.\"\n\n\"The wolf talks,\" said they, crossing themselves. \"He is a devil and\nhe knows Ulenspiegel's name already.\"\n\n\"Have pity, pity,\" said the voice, \"bid the bell be quiet; it is\nringing for the dead; pity, I am no wolf. My wrists are pierced by\nthe engine; I am old and I bleed; pity! What is this shrill boy's\nvoice awaking the village? Pity!\"\n\n\"I heard thy voice of old,\" said Ulenspiegel, vehemently. \"Thou art\nthe fishmonger, the murderer of Claes, the vampire of the poor little\nyoung girls. Men and women, have no fear. 'Tis the demon, he through\nwhom Soetkin died for grief and pain.\"\n\nAnd holding him by the neck beneath the chin with one hand, with the\nother he drew his cutlass.\n\nBut Toria, Betkin's mother, stayed him in this movement.\n\n\"Take him alive,\" she cried.\n\nAnd she plucked out his white hairs by handfuls, and tore his face\nwith her nails.\n\nAnd she howled with grief and fury.\n\nThe weer-wolf, his hands fast in the engine and stumbling about the\nroadway, through his keen sufferings:\n\n\"Pity,\" said he, \"pity! take this woman away. I will give two\ncarolus. Break those bells! Where are those children that are calling?\"\n\n\"Keep him alive!\" cried Toria, \"keep him alive, let him pay! The\nbells for the dead, the death bells for thee, murderer. By slow fire,\nby red-hot pincers. Keep him alive! let him pay!\"\n\nMeanwhile, Toria had picked up on the road a waffle iron with long\narms. Looking closely at it in the light of the torches, she saw\nit deeply engraved between the two iron plates with lozenges in the\nBrabant fashion, but armed besides, like an iron mouth, with long sharp\nteeth. And when she opened it, it was like the mouth of a greyhound.\n\nThen Toria, holding the waffle iron, opening it and shutting it and\nmaking the iron ring, seemed as though she had lost her wits for male\nfury, and gnashing her teeth and with hoarse rattle breath like a\nwoman dying, bit the prisoner with this engine in the arms, the legs,\neverywhere, seeking most of all his neck, and with every bite saying:\n\n\"Thus he did to Betkin with the iron teeth. He pays. Dost thou bleed,\nmurderer? God is just. The bells for the dead! Betkin is calling me\nto revenge. Dost thou feel the teeth? 'Tis the mouth of God.\"\n\nAnd she bit him without ceasing and without pity, striking him with\nthe waffle iron when she could not bite him with it. And because of\nher great thirst for revenge she did not kill him.\n\n\"Show compassion,\" cried the prisoner. \"Ulenspiegel, strike me with\nthy knife, I shall die quicker. Take this woman away. Break the bells\nfor the dead; kill those calling children.\"\n\nAnd Toria still kept biting him, until an old man, in pity, took the\nwaffle iron out of her hands.\n\nBut Toria then spat on the weer-wolf's face and tore out his hairs,\ncrying:\n\n\"Thou shalt pay, by slow fire, by burning pincers, thy eyes to\nmy nails!\"\n\nIn the meantime were come all the fishermen, rustics, and women of\nHeyst, at the report that the weer-wolf was a man and not a devil. Some\ncarried lanterns and flaming torches. And all were crying out:\n\n\"Robber and murderer, where dost thou hide the gold stolen from the\npoor victims? Let him give all back.\"\n\n\"I have none: have pity,\" said the fishmonger.\n\nAnd the women threw stones and sand upon him.\n\n\"He pays, he pays!\" cried Toria.\n\n\"Pity,\" he groaned, \"I am all wet with my own blood running. Pity!\"\n\n\"Thy blood?\" said Toria. \"There will be enough left for thee to pay\nwith. Cover his wounds with ointment. He will pay by the slow fire,\nhis hand cut off, with red-hot pincers. He shall pay, he shall pay!\"\n\nAnd she would have struck him; then out of her senses she fell upon\nthe sand as though dead, and she was left there till she came back\nto herself.\n\nMeanwhile, Ulenspiegel, taking the prisoner's hands out of the engine,\nsaw that there were three fingers lacking on the right hand.\n\nAnd he gave orders to bind him straitly and to put him in a fisherman's\nhamper. Men, women, and children then departed, taking turns to carry\nthe hamper, wending their way towards Damme to seek justice there. And\nthey carried torches and lanterns.\n\nAnd the fishmonger kept repeating without ceasing:\n\n\"Break the bells; kill the children that are calling.\"\n\nAnd Toria said:\n\n\"Let him pay, by slow fire, by red-hot pincers, let him pay!\"\n\nThen both held their peace. And Ulenspiegel heard no more, save the\nlaboured breathing of Toria, the heavy steps of the men on the sand,\nand the sea roaring like thunder.\n\nAnd sad in his heart, he looked at the clouds running like mad\nthings in the sky, the sea where the sheep of fire were to be seen,\nand in the light of the torches and the lanterns the livid face of\nthe fishmonger staring on him with cruel eyes.\n\nAnd the ashes beat upon his heart.\n\nAnd they marched for four hours till they came to where was the\npopulace assembled in one mass, knowing the news already. All wishing\nto see the fishmonger, they followed the band of fishermen shouting,\nsinging, dancing, and saying:\n\n\"The weer-wolf is taken! he is taken, the murderer! Blessed be\nUlenspiegel! Long life to our brother Ulenspiegel! Lange leven onsen\nbroeder Ulenspiegel.\"\n\nAnd it was like a revolt of the people.\n\nWhen they passed before the bailiff's house, he came out at the noise\nand said to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Thou art the victor; praise be to thee!\"\n\n\"The ashes of Claes were beating upon my heart,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\nThe bailiff then said:\n\n\"Thou shalt have the half of the murderer's estate.\"\n\n\"Give it to the victims,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\nLamme and Nele came; Nele, laughing and weeping for gladness, kissed\nher friend Ulenspiegel; Lamme, jumping heavily, smote him on the\nstomach, saying:\n\n\"This is a brave, a trusty, a faithful one; 'tis my beloved companion;\nye have none such, ye others, ye folk of the flat country.\"\n\nBut the fishermen laughed, mocking at him.\n\n\n\n\n\nXLIV\n\nThe bell called Borgstrom rang next day to summon the bailiff,\naldermen, and clerks of the court to the Vierschare on the four turf\nbenches, under the tree of justice, which was a noble lime tree. All\naround were the common folk. Being interrogated the fishmonger would\nconfess nothing, even when he was shown the three fingers severed by\nthe soldier, and missing from his right hand. He kept saying:\n\n\"I am poor and old; have compassion.\"\n\nBut the common folk hooted him, saying:\n\n\"Thou art an old wolf, a child killer; do not have pity on him,\njudges.\"\n\nThe women said:\n\n\"Look not on us with thy cold eyes; thou art a man and not a devil;\nwe do not fear thee. Cruel beast, more coward than a cat devouring\nsmall birds in the nest, thou didst kill poor little girls asking to\nlive their pretty little lives in all honesty.\"\n\n\"Let him pay by slow fire, by red-hot pincers,\" cried Toria.\n\nAnd in spite of the sergeants of the commune, the mothers egged on the\nlads to throw stones at the fishmonger. And the boys did so eagerly,\nhooting him every time he looked at them and crying incessantly:\n\"Blood-zuyger, blood-sucker! Sla dood, kill, kill!\"\n\nAnd Toria cried without ceasing:\n\n\"Let him pay by slow fire; by red-hot pincers let him pay!\"\n\nAnd the populace growled.\n\n\"See,\" said the women among each other, \"how cold he is under the\nsun that shines in the sky, warming his white hairs and his face torn\nby Toria.\"\n\n\"And he shivers with pain.\"\n\n\"'Tis the justice of God.\"\n\n\"And he stands there with a lamentable air.\"\n\n\"See his murderer's hands tied before him and bleeding from the wounds\nof the trap.\"\n\n\"Let him pay, let him pay!\" cried Toria.\n\nHe said, bemoaning himself:\n\n\"I am poor, let me go.\"\n\nAnd everyone, nay, even the judges, mocked as they listened to him. He\nwept feigningly, meaning to touch their hearts. And the women laughed.\n\nThe evidence being sufficient to warrant torture, he was condemned\nto be put on the bench until he had confessed how he killed, whence\nhe came, where were the spoils of the victims, and the place where\nhe had his gold hidden.\n\nBeing in the torture chamber, and shod with foot-gear of new leather\ntoo small for him, and the bailiff asking him how Satan had come to\nsuggest to him such black designs and crimes so abominable, he replied:\n\n\"Satan is myself, my natural being. Already when a small boy, but\nugly to look on, unfit for all bodily exercise, I was held a ninny\nby everybody and often beaten. Lad nor lass had pity never. In my\nadolescence no women would have me, not even though I paid. Then\nI put on cold hatred against every being born of a woman. That was\nwhy I denounced Claes, beloved of all. And I loved but Money only,\nthat was my darling, white or golden; to have Claes killed I found\nboth profit and pleasure. After I must live like a wolf more than\never, and I dreamed of biting. Passing through Brabant, I saw there\nthe waffle irons of that country and thought that one of them would\nbe a good iron mouth for me. Why do not I have you by the neck,\nyou evil tigers, that delight in an old man's torment! I would bite\nyou with greater joy than the soldier and the little girl. For her,\nwhen I saw her so sweet, sleeping on the sand in the sun, holding\nthe little bag of money in her hands, I felt love and pity; feeling\nmyself too old and not being able to take her, I bit her....\"\n\nThe bailiff asking him where he lived, the fishmonger replied:\n\n\"At Ramskapelle, whence I go to Blanckenberghe, to Heyst, even as far\nas Knokke. On Sundays and feast days, I make waffles, after the fashion\nof those of Brabant, in all the villages with yonder machine. It is\nalways very clean and well oiled. And this novelty of foreign parts was\nwell received. If you should please to know more, and how it was that\nno one could recognize me, I will tell you that by day I reddened my\nface with rouge and painted my hair red. As for the wolf skin you are\npointing to with your cruel finger, questioning me, I will tell you,\ndefying you, that it comes from two wolves killed by me in the woods\nof Raveschoot and of Maldeghen. I had but to sew the skins together to\ncover myself with them. I hid it in a box in the dunes of Heyst; there\nare also the clothes stolen by me to sell later at a fit opportunity.\"\n\n\"Take him from before the fire,\" said the bailiff. The tormentor\nobeyed.\n\n\"Where is thy gold?\" said the bailiff again.\n\n\"The king shall never know,\" replied the fishmonger.\n\n\"Burn him with the candles nearer him,\" said the bailiff. \"Put him\ncloser to the fire.\"\n\nThe tormentor obeyed and the fishmonger cried:\n\n\"I will say nothing. I have spoken too much; ye will burn me. I am no\nsorcerer; why do ye set me at the fire again? My feet are bleeding from\nthe burns. I will say nothing. Why nearer now? They bleed, I tell you,\nthey bleed; these slippers are boots of red-hot iron. My gold? Ah,\nwell, my only friend in this world, it is ... take me away from the\nfire; it is in my cave at Ramskapelle, in a box ... leave it to me;\ngrace and mercy, master judges; cursed tormentor, take the candles\naway.... He burns me more ... it is in a box with a false bottom\nwrapped in wool, so as to avoid a noise if any one shakes the box;\nnow I have told all; take me away.\"\n\nWhen he was taken away from before the fire, he smiled maliciously.\n\nThe bailiff asked him why.\n\n\"'Tis for comfort at being eased,\" replied he.\n\nThe bailiff said to him:\n\n\"Did no one ever ask thee to let him see thy toothed waffle iron?\"\n\nThe fishmonger replied:\n\n\"It was seen like any other, save that it is pierced with holes in\nwhich I was wont to screw the iron teeth at dawn I took them out;\nthe peasants prefer my waffles to those of the other sellers; and\nthey call them 'Waefels met brabandsche knoopen', 'waffles with\nbrabant buttons', because when the teeth are away, the empty holes\nmake little half spheres like buttons.\"\n\nBut the bailiff:\n\n\"When didst thou bite the poor victims?\"\n\n\"By day and by night. By day I used to wander about the dunes and the\nhighways, carrying my waffle iron, keeping in hiding, and especially\non Saturday, the day of the great Bruges market. If I saw some rustic\npass, wandering melancholy, I left him alone, judging that his trouble\nwas a flux of the purse; but I used to walk along by him whom I saw\njourneying merrily; when he did not look for it I would bite him in\nthe neck and take his satchel. And not only in the dunes, but on all\nthe byways and highways of the flat country.\"\n\nThe bailiff then said:\n\n\"Repent and pray unto God.\"\n\n\"It is the Lord God that willed I should be what I am. I did all\nwithout my will, egged on by Nature's will. Wicked tigers, ye will\npunish me unjustly. But do not burn me ... I did all without my\nwill; have pity, I am poor and old; I shall die of my wounds; do not\nburn me.\"\n\nHe was then taken to the Vierschare, under the lime tree, there to\nhear his sentence in the presence of all the people assembled.\n\nAnd he was condemned, as a horrible murderer, robber, and blasphemer,\nto have his tongue pierced with a red-hot iron, his right hand cut\noff, and to be burned alive in a slow fire, until death ensued,\nbefore the doors of the Townhall.\n\nAnd Toria cried:\n\n\"It is just; he pays!\"\n\nAnd the people cried:\n\n\"Lang leven de Heeren van de Wet,\" long life to the men of the law.\n\nHe was taken back into prison, where he was given meat and wine. And\nhe was merry, saying that he had never till then eaten or drunk,\neither, but that the king, inheriting his goods, could well pay for\nhis last meal for him.\n\nAnd he laughed sourly.\n\nThe next day, at the first of dawn, while they were taking him to\nexecution, he saw Ulenspiegel standing beside the stake, and he cried\nout, pointing to him with his finger:\n\n\"That one there, murderer of an old man, ought to die as well;\nhe flung me into the canal of Damme, ten years ago, because I had\ndenounced his father, wherein I had served His Catholic Majesty as\na faithful subject.\"\n\nThe bells of Notre Dame rang for the dead.\n\n\"For thee even as for me are those bells tolling,\" said he to\nUlenspiegel; \"thou shalt be hanged, for thou hast killed.\"\n\n\"The fishmonger lies,\" cried all the common folk; \"he lies, the\nmurdering ruffian.\"\n\nAnd Toria, like a madwoman, cried out, flinging a stone at him that\ncut his forehead:\n\n\"If he had drowned thee, thou wouldst not have lived to bite my poor\ngirl, like a bloodsucking vampire.\"\n\nAs Ulenspiegel uttered no word, Lamme said:\n\n\"Did any see him throw the fishmonger in the water?\"\n\nUlenspiegel made no answer.\n\n\"No, no,\" shouted the people; \"he lied, the murderer!\"\n\n\"No, I lied not,\" cried the fishmonger, \"he threw me in, while\nI implored him to forgive me, and by the same token, I got out by\nthe help of a skiff tied up alongside the high bank. Wet through and\nshivering, I could scarcely get back to my poor home. I had the fever\nthen, none looked after me, and I deemed I must die.\"\n\n\"Thou liest,\" said Lamme; \"no man saw it.\"\n\n\"No, no man saw it,\" cried Toria. \"To the fire with the\nmurderer. Before he dies he wants an innocent victim; let him pay! He\nhas lied. If thou didst do it, confess not, Ulenspiegel. There are\nno witnesses. Let him pay by slow fire, by red-hot pincers.\"\n\n\"Didst thou commit the murder?\" the bailiff asked Ulenspiegel.\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"I flung the murderer, the denouncer of Claes, into the water. My\nfather's ashes were beating on my heart.\"\n\n\"He confesseth,\" said the fishmonger; \"he shall die even as I. Where\nis the gallows, that I may see it? Where is the executioner with\nthe sword of justice? The death bells are ringing for thee, rascal,\nmurderer of an old man.\"\n\nUlenspiegel said:\n\n\"I threw thee into the water to kill thee; the ashes were beating on\nmy heart.\"\n\nAnd among the people, the women said:\n\n\"Why confess it, Ulenspiegel? No man saw it, now thou shalt die.\"\n\nAnd the prisoner laughed, leaping for bitter joy, waving his arms\nthat were tied and covered with blood-stained wrappings.\n\n\"He will die,\" he said, \"he will pass from earth into hell, the rope\nabout his neck, as a ragamuffin, a robber, a rascal: he will die,\nGod is just.\"\n\n\"He shall not die,\" said the bailiff. \"After ten years, murder may\nnot be punished in the soil of Flanders. Ulenspiegel committed a bad\naction, but through filial love: Ulenspiegel will not be prosecuted\nfor this deed.\"\n\n\"Long live the law!\" cried the people. \"Lang leven de Wet.\"\n\nThe bells of Notre Dame rang for the dead. And the prisoner gnashed\nhis teeth, drooped his head, and wept his first tear.\n\nAnd he had his hand cut off, and his tongue pierced with a hot iron,\nand he was burned alive by a slow fire before the doorway of the\nTownhall.\n\nAt the point of death he yelled:\n\n\"The king shall not have my gold; I lied.... Evil tigers, I will come\nback to bite you.\"\n\nAnd Toria cried:\n\n\"He pays, he pays! They writhe and twist, the arms and the legs\nthat ran to murder: it smokes, the murderer's body; his white hair,\nhy\u00e6na's hair, burns on his pale 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 Lamme and Ulenspiegel mounted upon their asses again.\n\nAnd Nele, sad and grieving, dwelt with Katheline, who said, without\nceasing:\n\n\"Take away the fire! my head is burning; come back, Hanske, my\ndarling.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nBOOK IV\n\n\nI\n\nBeing at Heyst, upon the dunes, Ulenspiegel and Lamme see, coming\nfrom Ostend, from Blanckenberghe, from Knokke, many fishing boats\nfull of armed men, adherents of the Beggars of Zealand, who wear in\ntheir headgear the silver crescent with this inscription: \"Better to\nserve the Turk than the Pope.\"\n\nUlenspiegel is glad; he whistles like the lark; from all sides answers\nthe warlike clarion of the cock.\n\nThe boats, sailing or fishing and selling their fish, come to land,\none after the other, at Emden. There William of Blois is detained,\nwho is equipping a ship under commission from the Prince of Orange.\n\nTr\u00e8s-Long, having been at Emden for eleven weeks, was bitterly sick of\nwaiting. He went from his ship to land and from the land to his ship,\nlike a bear on a chain.\n\nUlenspiegel and Lamme, wandering about on the quays, saw there a lord\nof a jovial visage, somewhat melancholy and at a loss to heave up one\nof the paving-stones of the quay with a pikestaff. Not succeeding\nin this he still bent every effort to carry out his undertaking,\nwhile a dog gnawed at a bone behind him.\n\nUlenspiegel came to the dog and pretended to want to rob him of his\nbone. The dog growls; Ulenspiegel does not stop: the dog makes a\ngreat uproar of doggish wrath.\n\nThe lord, turning at the noise, said to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"What good does it do thee to torment this beast?\"\n\n\"What good does it do you, Messire, to torment this pavement?\"\n\n\"It is not the same thing at all,\" said the lord.\n\n\"The difference is not extreme,\" replied Ulenspiegel; \"if the dog\nsets store by his bone and wants to keep it, this pavement holds to\nits quay and is fain to remain on it. And it is the very least that\nfolk like us may do, turning to busy ourselves about a dog when folk\nlike you busy yourselves about a paving stone.\"\n\nLamme remained behind Ulenspiegel, not daring to speak.\n\n\"Who art thou?\" asked the lord.\n\n\"I am Thyl Ulenspiegel, the son of Claes, who died in the flames for\nhis faith.\"\n\nAnd he whistled like the lark and the lord crowed like the cock.\n\n\"I am Admiral Tr\u00e8s-Long,\" said he; \"what wouldst thou with me?\"\n\nUlenspiegel narrated to him his adventures, and gave him five hundred\ncarolus.\n\n\"Who is this big man?\" asked Tr\u00e8s-Long, pointing a finger at Lamme.\n\n\"My comrade and friend,\" replied Ulenspiegel: \"he desires, like myself,\nto sing on your ship, with the fine voice of a musket, the song of\ndeliverance for the land of our fathers.\"\n\n\"Ye are brave men both,\" said Tr\u00e8s-Long, \"and ye shall go on my ship.\"\n\nThey were then in the month of February; sharp was the wind, keen the\nfrost. After three weeks of grudging waiting Tr\u00e8s-Long left Emden under\nprotest. Thinking to enter the Texel, he went out from Vlie, but was\nforced to go in to Wieringen, where his ship was locked up in the ice.\n\nSoon there was a merry spectacle all about: sledges and skaters all\nin velvet; women skating in jackets and skirts broidered with gold,\npearl, scarlet, azure; lads and lasses went, came, glided, laughed,\nfollowing one another in line, or two by two, in pairs, singing the\nsong of love upon the ice, or going to eat and drink in booths decked\nout with flags, brandy, oranges, figs, peperkoek, schols, eggs, hot\nvegetables, and eete-koeken, which are pancakes and pickled vegetables,\nwhile all about them sleds and sailing sleighs made the ice cry out\nunder their runners.\n\nLamme, seeking his wife, went wandering on skates like the jolly men\nand women, but he fell often.\n\nMeanwhile, Ulenspiegel went to drink and to feed in a small inn on\nthe quay where he had not to pay too dear for his daily rations;\nand he liked to talk with the old baesine.\n\nOne Sunday about nine he went in there asking them to give him\nhis dinner.\n\n\"But,\" said he to a pretty woman coming forward to serve him, \"baesine\nrejuvenated, what hast thou done with thy old wrinkles? Thy mouth hath\nall its teeth, white and girlish, and its lips are red as cherries. Is\nit for me, that soft and cunning smile?\"\n\n\"No, no,\" said she; \"but what must I give you?\"\n\n\"Thyself,\" said he.\n\nThe woman answered:\n\n\"That would be too much for a starveling like you; would you not like\nother meat?\"\n\nUlenspiegel making no reply:\n\n\"What have you done,\" she said, \"with that handsome, well-made,\ncorpulent man whom I often saw with you?\"\n\n\"Lamme?\" said he.\n\n\"What have you done with him?\" she said.\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"He eats, in the booths, hard eggs, smoked eels, salt fish, zuertjes,\nand all that he can put under his tooth; and all to look for his\nwife. Why art thou not his wife, pretty one? Wouldst thou like fifty\nflorins? Wouldst thou like a gold necklace?\"\n\nBut she, crossing herself:\n\n\"I am not to buy or to take,\" said she.\n\n\"Dost thou love naught?\" said he.\n\n\"I love thee as my neighbour, but I love above all my Lord Christ and\nMadame the Virgin, who bid me live a chaste life. Hard and heavy are\nits duties, but God is our helper, we poor women. Yet there are some\nthat succumb. Is thy big friend happy?\"\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"He is gay when he is eating, sad when fasting, and always pensive. But\nthou, art thou happy or sad?\"\n\n\"We women,\" said she, \"are slaves of that that rules us!\"\n\n\"The moon?\" said he.\n\n\"Aye,\" said she.\n\n\"I am going to tell Lamme to come to see thee.\"\n\n\"Do not so,\" said she; \"he would weep and I in likewise.\"\n\n\"Didst thou ever see his wife?\" asked Ulenspiegel.\n\nSighing, she answered:\n\n\"She sinned with him and was condemned to a cruel penance. She knows\nthat he goeth on the sea for the triumph of heresy, and that is a\nhard thing for a Christian heart to think on. Defend him if he is\nattacked; care for him if he is wounded: his wife bade me make this\nrequest of you.\"\n\n\"Lamme is my brother and my friend,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Ah!\" she said, \"why do ye not return to the bosom of our Mother\nHoly Church?\"\n\n\"She devours her children,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd he went his way.\n\nOne morning in March, since the wind, that was blowing sharp and\ncutting, ceased not to thicken the ice, and Tr\u00e8s-Long's ship could\nnot leave, the sailors and the soldiers of the vessel were holding\nfeasting and revel on sledges and on skates.\n\nUlenspiegel was at the inn, and the pretty woman said to him, all\nwoeful and as if bereft of her wits:\n\n\"Poor Lamme! poor Ulenspiegel!\"\n\n\"Why do you lament?\" asked he.\n\n\"Alas! Alas!\" said she, \"why do ye not believe in the mass. Ye would\ngo to paradise, without a doubt, and I could save you in this life.\"\n\nSeeing her go to the door and listen attentively, Ulenspiegel said\nto her:\n\n\"It is not the snow falling that you are listening to?\"\n\n\"No,\" said she.\n\n\"It is not the moaning wind that you give ear to?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said again.\n\n\"Nor to the merry din that our valiant sailors are making in the\ntavern close by?\"\n\n\"Death cometh as a thief,\" she said.\n\n\"Death!\" said Ulenspiegel. \"I do not understand thee; come inside\nand speak.\"\n\n\"They are there,\" she said.\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Who?\" she answered. \"The soldiers of Simonen-Bol, who are to come,\nin the name of the duke, to throw themselves on all of you; if you\nare so well treated here, it is like the bullocks that are meant for\nthe slaughter. Ah! why,\" said she all in tears, \"why did I not know\nit save but just now.\"\n\n\"Do not weep, nor cry out,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"and stay where you are!\"\n\n\"Do not betray me,\" said she.\n\nUlenspiegel went out from her house, ran, made his way to all the\nbooths and taverns, whispering into the ears of the seamen and the\nsoldiers these words: \"The Spaniard is coming.\"\n\nAll ran to the ship, preparing with the utmost haste all that was\nneeded for battle, and they awaited the enemy. Ulenspiegel said\nto Lamme:\n\n\"Seest thou yon pretty woman standing upon the quay, with her black\ndress embroidered with scarlet, and hiding her face under her white\nhood?\"\n\n\"It is all one to me,\" replied Lamme. \"I am cold; I want to sleep.\"\n\nAnd he rolled his head up in his opperst-kleed. And like that he was\nas a man deaf.\n\nUlenspiegel then recognized the woman and called to her from the ship:\n\n\"Dost thou wish to follow us?\"\n\n\"To the grave,\" said she, \"but I cannot....\"\n\n\"Thou wouldst do well,\" said Ulenspiegel; \"yet think of this: when\nthe nightingale stays in the forest, it is happy and sings; but if\nit leaves the forest and risks its little wings in the wind of the\ngreat sea, it breaks them and dies.\"\n\n\"I have sung in my house,\" said she, \"and would sing outside if I\ncould.\" Then drawing closer to the ship: \"Take this ointment,\" she\nsaid, \"for thyself and thy friend who sleeps when he should wake....\"\n\nAnd she went away saying:\n\n\"Lamme! Lamme! God keep thee from harm; come back safe.\"\n\nAnd she uncovered her face.\n\n\"My wife, my wife!\" cried Lamme.\n\nAnd he would have leaped down on the ice.\n\n\"Thy faithful wife!\" said she.\n\nAnd she ran away swiftly.\n\nLamme would have leaped from off the deck down on the ice, but he was\nprevented by a soldier, who held him back by his opperst-kleed. He\ncried, wept, implored that he might be given leave to go. But the\nprovost said to him:\n\n\"Thou shalt be hanged if thou dost leave the ship.\"\n\nAgain Lamme would have cast himself on the ice, but an old Beggar\nheld him back, saying to him:\n\n\"The floor is damp, you might get your feet wet.\"\n\nAnd Lamme fell on his behind, weeping and saying without ceasing:\n\n\"My wife, my wife! let me go to my wife!\"\n\n\"Thou shalt see her again,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"She loves thee, but\nshe loves God more than thee.\"\n\n\"The mad she-devil,\" cried Lamme. \"If she loves God more than her\nhusband, why does she show herself to me lovely and desirable? And\nif she loves me, why does she leave me?\"\n\n\"Dost thou see clear in a deep well?\" asked Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Alas!\" said Lamme, \"I shall die before long.\"\n\nAnd he stayed upon the deck, livid and distraught.\n\nMeanwhile, had come up the men of Simonen-Bol, with a great artillery.\n\nThey fired against the ship, which replied to them. And their cannon\nballs broke the ice all about it. Towards evening a warm rain fell.\n\nThe wind blowing from the west, the sea grew angry under the ice, and\nheaved it up in immense blocks, which were seen rising up on high,\nfalling back again, clashing against one another, one mounting on\ntop of another, not without peril to the ship, which when dawn broke\nthrough the clouds of night, opened out its canvas wings like a bird\nof freedom and sailed towards the free ocean.\n\nThere they joined up with the fleet of Messire de Lumey de la Marche,\nadmiral of Holland and Zealand, and chief and captain-general, and\nas such carrying a lantern at his ship's peak.\n\n\"Look well at him, my son,\" said Ulenspiegel; \"that one will\nnever spare thee, if thou shouldst wish to leave the ship against\norders. Hearest thou his voice breaking forth like thunder? See how\nbroad and strong he is in his great stature! Look at his long hands\nwith the crooked nails! See his round eyes, eagle eyes and cold,\nand his long pointed beard that he means to leave to grow until\nhe has hanged all the monks and priests to avenge the death of the\ntwo counts! See him redoubtable and cruel; he will have thee hanged\nhigh on a short rope, if thou dost continue to whine and cry always:\n'My wife!'\"\n\n\"My son,\" replied Lamme, \"he that talks of a halter for his neighbour\nhas already the hempen cravat on his own neck.\"\n\n\"Thou thyself shalt be the first to wear it. Such is my vow as a\nfriend,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"I shall see thee on the gallows,\" replied Lamme, \"thrust out thy\npoisonous tongue a fathom out of thy mouth.\"\n\nAnd both were in mere jest.\n\nOn that day Tr\u00e8s-Long's ship took a ship from Biscay laden with\nmercury, gold dust, wines, and spices. And the ship was emptied of\nits marrow, men, and booty, as a beef bone under a lion's teeth.\n\nIt was at this time also that the duke ordained in the Low Countries\ncruel and abominable imposts, obliging all the inhabitants who\nsold real or personal estate to pay one thousand florins in ten\nthousand. And this tax was a permanent one. All sellers and buyers\nwhatsoever must pay the king the tenth part of the purchase price,\nand it was said among the people that if goods were sold ten times\nwithin a week the king should have all.\n\nAnd thus commerce and industry took the way towards Ruin and Death.\n\nAnd the Beggars took Briele, a strong seaboard fortress that was\nchristened the Orchard of Freedom.\n\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nIn the first days of May, under a clear sky, with the ship sailing\nproudly along the sea, Ulenspiegel sang:\n\n\n    \"The ashes beat upon my heart.\n    The butchers are come; they have struck\n    With poignard, fire, violence, the sword.\n    They have paid for foulest spying.\n    Where once were Love and Faith, mild virtues,\n    They have set Denunciation and Mistrust.\n    May the butchers be smitten,\n    Beat the drum of war.\n\n    \"Long live the Beggar! Beat upon the drum!\n    Briele is taken,\n    Flessingue, too, the key of the Scheldt;\n    God is good, Camp-Veere is taken,\n    Where Zealand kept her artillery!\n    We have bullets, powder, and shot,\n    Iron shot and leaden shot.\n    God is with us, who then is against?\n\n    \"Beat upon the drum of war and glory!\n    Long live the Beggar! Beat upon the drum!\n\n    \"The sword is drawn, be our hearts high,\n    Firm be our arms, the sword is drawn.\n    Out upon the tenth tithe, the whole of ruin,\n    Death to the butcher, halter to the spoiler,\n    For a perjured king a rebel folk.\n    The sword is drawn for our rights,\n    For our houses, our wives, and our children.\n    The sword is drawn, beat upon the drum!\n\n    \"High are our hearts, stout are our arms.\n    Out upon the tenth tithe, out upon the infamous pardon.\n    Beat upon the drum of war, beat upon the drum!\"\n\n\n\"Aye, good fellows and friends,\" said Ulenspiegel; \"aye, they have set\nup at Antwerp, before the Townhall, a dazzling scaffold covered with\nred cloth; the duke is seated upon it like a king upon his throne in\nthe midst of liverymen and soldiers. Meaning to smile benevolently,\nhe makes a sour grimace. Beat upon the war drum!\n\n\"He hath accorded a pardon, make silence, his gilded cuirass shines\nin the sun; the grand provost is on horseback beside the dais; lo here\ncometh the herald with his kettle-drums; he reads; it is a pardon for\nall those that have not sinned; the others will be punished cruelly.\n\n\"Oyez, good fellows, he reads the edict that orders, on penalty as\nfor rebellion, the payment of the tenth and twentieth deniers.\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel sang:\n\n\n    \"O Duke! hearest thou the voice of the people,\n    The strong dull clamour? Tis the sea that rises\n    In the hour of the mighty surges.\n    Enough of gold, enough of blood.\n    Enough of ruins. Beat upon the drum!\n    The sword is drawn. Beat upon the drum of woe!\n\n    \"It is the nails tearing the bleeding wound,\n    Robbery after murder. Must thou then\n    Mix all our gold with our blood for your drink?\n    We moved in ways of duty, faithful and true\n    To the King's Majesty. His Majesty is perjured,\n    We are free of our oaths. Beat upon the drum of war.\n\n    \"Duke of Alba, bloody duke,\n    See these booths, these shops shut fast,\n    See these brewers, bakers, grocers,\n    Refusing to sell so as not to pay.\n    Who then salutes thee when thou art passing?\n    No man. Feelest thou, like a steaming plague\n    Hate and Scorn enwrap thee round?\n\n    \"The fair land of Flanders,\n    The gay country of Brabant,\n    Are sad as graveyards.\n    There where of old, in freedom's days,\n    Sang the viols, squealed the fifes,\n    There are silence now and death.\n    Beat upon the drum of war.\n\n    \"Instead of jolly faces\n    Of drinkers, and singing lovers\n    There are pallid faces now\n    Of men that wait, resigned,\n    The stroke of the sword of injustice.\n    Beat upon the drum of war.\n\n    \"No man now hears in the taverns\n    The jolly clink of pots,\n    Nor the clear voices of girls\n    Singing in bands about the streets.\n    And Brabant and Flanders, lands of mirth,\n    Are become the lands of tears.\n    Beat upon the drum of woe.\n\n    \"Land of our fathers, sufferer beloved,\n    Stoop not your brow to the murderer's foot,\n    Toilsome bees, rush in your swarms,\n    Upon the hornets from Spain.\n    Corpses of women and girls buried alive,\n    Cry out to Christ: 'Vengeance!'\n\n    \"Wander in the fields by night, poor souls,\n    Cry unto God! The arm quivers to strike,\n    The sword is drawn, Duke; we will tear out thy entrails\n    And flog thy face with them.\n    Beat upon the drum. The sword is drawn.\n    Beat upon the drum. Long live the Beggar!\"\n\n\nAnd all the seamen and the soldiers of Ulenspiegel's ship and of the\nother ships sang likewise:\n\n\n    \"The sword is drawn, long live the Beggar!\"\n\n\nAnd their voices growled like a thunder of deliverance.\n\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nThe world was in January, the cruel month that freezes the calf in\nthe cow's belly. It had snowed, and frozen over and above. The lads\nwere taking with birdlime sparrows seeking some poor food on the\nhardened snow, and carried off this game into their cottages. Against\nthe gray clear sky stood out motionless the skeletons of the trees,\nwhose branches were covered with snowy cushions that covered also\nthe cottages and the coping of walls on which were seen the prints\nof the paws of cats, which, like the boys, were hunting sparrows\nover the snow. At a distance the meadows were hidden over by this\nmarvellous fleece, keeping the earth warm against the bitter cold of\nwinter. The smoke of houses and cottages rose up black into the sky,\nand there was no noise heard of any kind.\n\nAnd Katheline and Nele were alone in their house; and Katheline,\nnodding her head, said:\n\n\"Hans, my heart turns to thee. Thou must give back the seven hundred\ncarolus to Ulenspiegel, the son of Soetkin. If thou art poor, come\nnone the less that I may see thy shining face. Take away the fire,\nmy head burns. Alas! where are thy snow-cold kisses? Where is thy\nicy body, Hans, my beloved?\"\n\nAnd she kept at the window. Suddenly there passed, running at full\nspeed, a voet-looper, a courier carrying bells at his belt, and\ncalling out:\n\n\"Here cometh the bailiff, the high bailiff of Damme!\"\n\nAnd he went thus as far as the Townhall, so as to assemble there the\nburgomasters and the sheriffs.\n\nThen in the thick silence Nele heard two clarions sound. All the\npeople of Damme came to their doors, believing it was His Majesty\nthe king who announced himself by such flourishes.\n\nAnd Katheline also went to the door with Nele. From afar they saw\nresplendent horsemen riding in a band, and before them, also on\nhorseback, a personage covered in an opperst-kleed of black velvet\nlaced with fine gold, and boots of yellow calfskin furred with\nmarten. And they recognized the high bailiff.\n\nBehind him there rode young lords, who, notwithstanding the ordinance\nof his late Imperial Majesty, wore on their velvet accoutrements\nembroideries, trimmings, bands, edgings, of gold, of silver, and of\nsilk. And their opperst-kleederen, under their outer garments, were\nedged with fur like those of the bailiff. They rode gaily along,\nshaking in the wind the long ostrich feathers that adorned their\nbonnets, gold buttoned and gold laced.\n\nAnd they seemed to be all of them good friends and companions of the\ngrand bailiff, and notably a lord of sharp visage clad in green velvet\ntrimmed with gold lace, and a cloak of black velvet like his bonnet\nadorned with long plumes. And he had a nose shaped like a vulture's\nbeak, a thin mouth, red hair, a pale face, and haughty carriage.\n\nWhile the troop of these lords was passing in front of Katheline's\nhouse suddenly she darted to the bridle of the pale lord's horse,\nand beside herself with joy, she cried out:\n\n\"Hans! my beloved, I knew it; thou art back. Thou art goodly thus in\nvelvet and all in gold like a sun upon the snow! Dost thou bring me\nthe seven hundred carolus? Shall I hear thee once more crying like\nthe sea-eagle?\"\n\nThe high bailiff stopped the troop of gentlemen, and the pale lord\nsaid:\n\n\"What doth this beggar want with me?\"\n\nBut Katheline, still keeping hold of the horse by the bridle:\n\n\"Do not go away again,\" said she, \"I have wept so much for thee. Sweet\nnights, my beloved, kisses of snow--body of ice. The child is here!\"\n\nAnd she pointed him to Nele who was looking at him in anger, for he\nhad raised his whip to Katheline: but Katheline, weeping:\n\n\"Ah!\" said she, \"dost thou not remember at all? Have pity on thy\nhandmaiden. Take her with thee wherever thou wilt. Take away the fire,\nHans; pity!\"\n\n\"Begone!\" said he.\n\nAnd he drove his horse on so hard that Katheline, loosing the bridle,\nfell; and the horse stepped on her and gave her a bloody wound in\nthe forehead.\n\nThe bailiff then said to the pale lord:\n\n\"Messire, do you know this woman?\"\n\n\"I do not know her at all,\" said he, \"doubtless it is some mad\ncreature.\"\n\nBut Nele, having raised Katheline from the ground:\n\n\"If this woman is mad, I am not, Monseigneur, and I pray that I\nmay die here of this snow that I eat\"--and she took up snow in her\nfingers--\"if this man has not known my mother, if he did not borrow\nall her money, if he did not kill Claes's dog in order to take from\nthe wall of the well at our house seven hundred carolus belonging to\nthe poor dead man.\"\n\n\"Hans, my darling,\" wept Katheline, bleeding, and on her knees, \"Hans,\nmy beloved, give me the kiss of peace: see the blood flowing: my soul\nhas made the hole and would fain come forth: I shall die presently:\nleave me not.\" Then in a whisper: \"Long ago thou didst slay thy comrade\nfor jealousy, along by the dyke.\" And she stretched out her finger\nin the direction of Dudzeele. \"Thou didst love me well in those days.\"\n\nAnd she caught the gentleman's knee and embraced it, and she took\nhis boot and kissed it.\n\n\"What is this slain man?\" asked the high bailiff.\n\n\"I do not know, Monseigneur,\" said he. \"We have nothing to do with\nthe talk of this beggarwoman; let us forward.\"\n\nThe populace was assembling around them; the townsmen great and small,\nartisans and rustics, taking Katheline's part, cried out:\n\n\"Justice, Monseigneur Bailiff, justice.\"\n\nAnd the bailiff said to Nele:\n\n\"What is this slain man? Speak in accordance with God and the truth.\"\n\nNele spoke and said, pointing to the pale gentleman:\n\n\"This man came every Saturday to the keet to see my mother and to take\nher money: he killed a friend of his, Hilbert by name, in the field\nof Servaes van der Vichte, not for love, as this innocent distracted\nwoman thinks, but to have for himself alone the seven hundred carolus.\"\n\nAnd Nele told of Katheline's loves and what she heard when she was\nhidden by night behind the dyke that ran through the field of Servaes\nvan der Vichte.\n\n\"Nele is bad,\" said Katheline; \"she speaks hardly of Hans, her father.\"\n\n\"I swear,\" said Nele, \"that he used to cry like a sea-eagle to announce\nhis presence.\"\n\n\"Thou liest,\" said the gentleman.\n\n\"Oh, no!\" said Nele, \"and monseigneur the bailiff and all these\nnoble lords here present see it well: thou art pale not for cold,\nbut with fear. Whence comes it that thy face no longer shines:\nthou hast then lost thy magic compound wherewith thou wast wont to\nrub it that it might appear bright, like the waves in summer when\nit thunders? But sorcerer accursed, thou shalt be burned before the\ndoors of the Townhall. 'Tis thou that didst cause Soetkin's death,\nthou that didst reduce her orphan son to want; thou, a man of noble\nrank, doubtless, and who wast wont to come to us burgesses to bring my\nmother money once only and to take money from her all the other times.\"\n\n\"Hans,\" said Katheline, \"thou wilt bring me again to the Sabbath and\nwilt rub me again with ointment; do not listen to Nele, she is bad:\nthou seest the blood, the soul has made the hole and would come forth:\nI shall die soon and I shall go into limbo where it burneth not.\"\n\n\"Hold thy tongue, mad witch, I know thee not,\" said the gentleman,\n\"and know not what thou wouldst say.\"\n\n\"And yet,\" said Nele, \"it was thou that camest with a companion and\nwouldst have given him to me for a husband: thou knowest that I would\nhave none of him; what did he do, thy friend Hilbert, what did he do\nwith his eyes after I had sunk my nails into them?\"\n\n\"Nele is bad,\" said Katheline, \"do not believe her, Hans, my darling:\nshe is angry against Hilbert who would have taken her by force, but\nHilbert cannot do it now; the worms have eaten him: and Hilbert was\nugly. Hans, my darling, thou alone art goodly; Nele is bad.\"\n\nUpon this the bailiff said:\n\n\"Women, go in peace.\"\n\nBut Katheline would by no means leave the place where her friend\nwas. And they must needs bring her to her house by force.\n\nAnd all the people there assembled cried out:\n\n\"Justice, Monseigneur, justice!\"\n\nThe constables of the commune having come up at the noise, the bailiff\nbade them remain, and he said to the lords and gentlemen:\n\n\"Messeigneurs and Messires, notwithstanding all privileges protecting\nthe illustrious order of nobility in the country of Flanders I must\nneeds, upon the accusations and especially upon that of witchcraft,\nlaid against Messire Joos Damman, have his person apprehended until\nhe be judged according to the laws and ordinances of the Empire. Give\nme your sword, Messire Joos.\"\n\n\"Monseigneur Bailiff,\" said Joos Damman, with the utmost hauteur and\npride of nobility, \"in apprehending my person you are transgressing the\nlaw of Flanders, for you are not yourself a judge. Now you are aware\nthat it is permitted to arrest without a warrant from a judge only\nfalse coiners, robbers on public roads and highways; fire-raisers,\nravishers of women; gendarmes deserting their captain; enchanters\nmaking use of poison to poison water springs; monks or nuns that\nhave renounced their vows and banished men. And now, Messires and\nMesseigneurs, defend me!\"\n\nSome would have obeyed, but the bailiff said to them:\n\n\"Messeigneurs and Messires, as representing here our king, count,\nand overlord, to whom is reserved the decision of difficult cases,\nI command and order you, upon pain of being proclaimed rebels, to\nreturn your swords to their scabbards.\"\n\nThe gentlemen having obeyed, and Messire Joos Damman still hesitating,\nthe people cried out:\n\n\"Justice, Monseigneur, justice; let him give up his sword.\"\n\nHe did so then against his will, and dismounting from his horse,\nhe was brought by two constables to the prison of the commune.\n\nAll the same, he was not shut up in the cellars, but in a barred\nchamber, where he had, for payment, a good fire, a good bed, and good\nfood, the half of which the gaoler took.\n\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nOn the next day the bailiff, the two clerks of the court, two aldermen,\nand a barber-surgeon went by Dudzeele to see if they might find in\nthe field of Servaes van der Vichte the body of a man along by the\ndyke running through the field.\n\nNele had said to Katheline: \"Hans, thy darling, asks for the severed\nhand of Hilbert: this evening he will cry like the sea-eagle; he\nwill come into the cottage, and will bring thee the seven hundred\nflorins carolus.\"\n\nKatheline had replied: \"I will cut it off.\" And indeed, she took a\nknife and went forth accompanied by Nele and followed by the officers\nof justice.\n\nShe walked swiftly and proudly beside Nele, whose pretty face the\nkeen air made all rosy and glowing.\n\nThe officers of justice, old and coughing, followed her, frozen with\ncold; and they were all like black shadows on the white plain; and\nNele carried a spade.\n\nWhen they arrived in the field of Servaes van der Vichte and on the\ndyke, Katheline, walking up to the middle of it, said, pointing to the\nmeadow on her right hand: \"Hans, thou didst not know that I was hidden\nthere, shivering at the noise of the swords. And Hilbert cried out:\n'This iron is cold.' Hilbert was ugly; Hans is goodly. Thou shalt\nhave his hand; leave me alone.\"\n\nThen she went down on the left hand, knelt in the snow and cried\nthree times into the air to call the spirit.\n\nNele then gave her the spade, upon which Katheline made the sign of\nthe cross thrice; then she traced upon the ice the shape of a coffin\nand three crosses reversed, one on the side of the east, one on the\nside of the west, and one on the south; and she said: \"Three, it is\nMars beside Saturn, and three is discovery under Venus, the bright\nstar.\" She traced after, about the coffin, a great circle, saying:\n\"Begone, evil demon that guardest corpses.\" Then falling on her knees\nin prayer: \"Devil friend, Hilbert,\" said she, \"Hans, my master and\nlord, bids me come here and cut off thy hand and bring it to him. I\nowe him obedience: make not the earth-fire to leap out against me,\nbecause I disturb thy noble burying place: and forgive me in the name\nof God and of the Saints.\"\n\nThen she broke the ice, following the outline of the coffin: she came\nto the damp sword, then to the sandy soil, and monseigneur the bailiff,\nhis officers, Nele, and Katheline beheld the body of a young man,\nchalk-white by reason of the soil. He was clad in a doublet of gray\ncloth with a cloak of the same; his sword was laid by his side. At\nhis belt he had a chain purse, and a big poignard planted under his\nheart; and there was blood upon the cloth of the doublet; and that\nblood had flowed under his back. And the man was young.\n\nKatheline cut off his hand and put it in her pouch. And the bailiff\nlet her do what she would, then bade her to strip the body of all\nits insignia and clothing. Katheline having asked if Hans had thus\ncommanded, the bailiff replied that he did nothing save by his orders;\nand Katheline then did what he wished.\n\nWhen the body was stripped, it was seen to be dry as wood, but not\ndecayed: and the bailiff and the officers of the commune departed,\nhaving covered it again with sand: and the constables carried the\ncloth.\n\nPassing the front of the prison of the commune, the bailiff said to\nKatheline that Hans was awaiting her there; she went in joyously.\n\nNele wanted to prevent her, and Katheline always replied: \"I would\nsee Hans, my lord.\"\n\nAnd Nele wept on the threshold, knowing that Katheline was arrested\nas a witch for the conjurations and figures she had made upon the snow.\n\nAnd in Damme men said there could be no pardon for her.\n\nAnd Katheline was put in the western cellar of the prison.\n\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nThe next day, the wind blowing from Brabant, the snow melted and the\nmeadows were flooded.\n\nAnd the bell called borgstorm called the judges to the tribunal of the\nVierschare, under the penthouse, because of the dampness of the turf.\n\nAnd the populace surrounded the tribunal.\n\nJoos Damman, being interrogated, confessed that he had killed his\nfriend Hilbert in single combat with the sword. When they said to him:\n\"He was smitten with a poignard,\" Joos Damman replied: \"I struck him\non the ground because he died not quick enough. I confess this murder\nof my own will, being under the protection of the laws of Flanders\nwhich forbid the prosecution, after ten years, of a manslayer.\"\n\nThe bailiff, addressing him:\n\n\"Art thou not a sorcerer?\" said he.\n\n\"No,\" replied Damman.\n\n\"Prove this,\" said the bailiff.\n\n\"I will prove it at the proper time and place,\" said Joos Damman,\n\"but it pleaseth me not to do so as now.\"\n\nThe bailiff then questioned Katheline; she never listened to him,\nand gazing at Hans:\n\n\"Thou art my green lord, lovely as the sun. Take away the fire,\nmy darling!\"\n\nNele, then speaking for Katheline, said:\n\n\"She can confess naught but what ye know already, Monseigneur and\nMessieurs; she is no witch, and only bereft of her wits.\"\n\nThe bailiff then spoke and said:\n\n\"A sorcerer is one that, by diabolical means wittingly employed,\nendeavours to attain somewhat. Now, these twain, man and woman,\nare sorcerers by intent and deed: he, in having given the ointment\nfor the sabbath, and in having made his face bright like Lucifer in\norder to obtain money and the satisfying of lewdness; she, in having\nsubmitted herself to him, taking him for a devil, and for having given\nherself up to his desires: the one being the worker of witchcraft,\nthe other his manifest accomplice. There can therefore be no pity,\nand I must say this, for I perceive the aldermen and the populace\nover-indulgent in the case of the woman. She has not, it is true,\nkilled or robbed, nor bewitched either beasts or mankind, nor healed\nany sick by remedies extraordinary, but only by known simples, as\nan honest and Christian physician; but she would have given up her\ndaughter to the devil, and if this maid had not in her youth resisted\nwith frank and valiant courage she would have yielded to Hilbert and\nwould have become a sorceress like the other. Accordingly, I put it\nto the members of this tribunal if they are not of the opinion to\nput both these two to the torture?\"\n\nThe aldermen made no answer, showing sufficiently that this was not\ntheir desire with regard to Katheline.\n\nThe bailiff then said, continuing his discourse:\n\n\"I am, like yourselves, touched with pity and compassion for her, but\nthis sorceress, bereft of her wits, so obedient to the devil, might\nshe not, had her lewd co-defendant so bidden her, have been capable of\ncutting off her daughter's head with a sickle, even as Catherine Daru,\nin the country of France, did to her two daughters at the invitation\nof the devil? Might she not, if her black husband had so bidden her,\nhave put animals to death; turned the butter in the churn by throwing\nsugar in it; been present in the body at all the worship and homage to\nthe devil, dance, abominations, and copulations of sorcerers? Might she\nnot have eaten human flesh, killed children to make pasties of them\nand sell them, as did a pastry cook in Paris; cut off the thighs of\nhanged men and carry them away to bite into them raw and thus commit\ninfamous robbery and sacrilege? And I ask of the tribunal that in\norder to discover whether Katheline and Joos Damman have not committed\nother crimes than those already known and called into account, they\nbe both put to the torture. Joos Damman refusing to confess anything\nfurther than the murder, and Katheline not having told everything,\nthe laws of the empire enjoin upon us to proceed as I indicate.\"\n\nAnd the aldermen gave sentence of torture for the Friday which was\nthe day after the morrow.\n\nAnd Nele cried: \"Grace, Messeigneurs!\" and the people cried with\nher. But it was in vain.\n\nAnd Katheline, looking at Joos Damman, said:\n\n\"I have Hilbert's hand; come and take it to-night, my beloved.\"\n\nAnd they were taken back to the prison.\n\nThere by order of the tribunal, the gaoler was ordered to assign two\nguardians to each of them, to beat them every time they would have\nslept; but the two guardians of Katheline left her to sleep all night,\nand those of Joos Damman beat him cruelly every time he closed his\neyes or even nodded his head.\n\nThey were hungry all day on Wednesday, the same night and all Thursday\nuntil night, when they were given food and drink, meat salted and\nsaltpetred, and water salted and saltpetred likewise. That was the\nbeginning of their torment. And in the morning they brought them,\ncrying out for thirst, into the torture chamber.\n\nThere they were set face to face with one another, and bound each upon\na bench covered with knotted ropes which made them suffer grievously.\n\nAnd they were each forced to drink a glass of water, full of salt\nand saltpetre.\n\nJoos Damman beginning to sleep upon his bench, the constables\nstruck him.\n\nAnd Katheline said:\n\n\"Do not strike him, sirs; you break his poor body. He only committed\none crime, for love, when he killed Hilbert. I am athirst, and thou,\ntoo, Hans my beloved. Give him to drink first. Water! Water! my body\nburns. Spare him, I will die soon in his place. A drink!\"\n\nJoos said to her:\n\n\"Ugly witch, die and burst like a bitch. Throw her in the fire,\nMessieurs the Judges. I am athirst!\"\n\nThe clerks took down all he said.\n\nThe bailiff then said to him:\n\n\"Hast thou nothing to confess?\"\n\n\"I have nothing more to say,\" replied Damman; \"you know all.\"\n\n\"Since he persists,\" said the bailiff, \"in his denials, he shall\nremain on these benches and on these cords until he makes a fresh\nand full confession, and he shall be athirst, and he shall be kept\nfrom sleeping.\"\n\n\"I will stay here,\" said Joos Damman, \"and I will take my pleasure in\nseeing that witch suffer on this bench. How do you find the marriage\nbed, my love?\"\n\nAnd Katheline replied, groaning:\n\n\"Cold arms and hot heart, Hans, my beloved. I am athirst; my head\nburns!\"\n\n\"And thou, woman,\" said the bailiff, \"hast thou naught to say?\"\n\n\"I hear,\" said she, \"the chariot of death and the dry noise of\nbones. I thirst! And he taketh me to a great river where there\nis water, water fresh and clear; but this water it is fire. Hans,\nmy dear, deliver me from these cords. Yea, I am in purgatory and\nI see on high Monseigneur Jesus in his paradise and Madame Virgin\nso full of compassion. O our dear Lady, give me one drop of water:\ndo not eat those lovely fruits all alone.\"\n\n\"This woman is smitten with cruel madness,\" said one of the\naldermen. \"She must be taken from the bench of torment.\"\n\n\"She is no more mad than I,\" said Joos Damman; \"it is mere play and\nacting.\" And in a threatening voice: \"I shall see thee in the fire,\"\nhe said to Katheline, \"thou playest the madwoman so well.\"\n\nAnd grinding his teeth, he laughed at his cruel lie.\n\n\"I thirst,\" said Katheline; \"have pity, I thirst. Hans, my beloved,\ngive me to drink. How white thy face is! Let me come to him,\nMessieurs the Judges.\" And opening her mouth wide: \"Yea, yea, they\nare now putting fire in my breast, and the devils fasten me on this\ncruel bed. Hans, take thy sword and slay them, thou so mighty. Water,\nto drink, to drink!\"\n\n\"Perish, witch,\" said Joos Damman; \"they ought to thrust a choke-pear\ninto her mouth to keep her from setting herself up thus, a low creature\nlike her, against me, a man of rank.\"\n\nAt this word one of the aldermen, an enemy of the nobility, replied:\n\n\"Messire Bailiff, it is contrary to the laws and customs of the empire\nto put a choke-pear into the mouth of any that are being interrogated,\nfor they are here to tell the truth, and for us to judge them from\nwhat they say. That is permitted only when the accused being condemned\nmight, upon the scaffold, speak to the people, and in this way move\nthem, and stir up popular feelings.\"\n\n\"I thirst,\" said Katheline, \"give me to drink, Hans, my darling.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said he, \"thou dost suffer, accursed witch, sole cause of all\nthe torments I am enduring; but in this torture chamber thou shalt\nundergo the pain of the candles, the strappado, the wooden splinters\nunder the nails of thy feet and hands. They will make thee ride naked\nastride a coffin whose back will be sharp as a blade, and thou shalt\nconfess that thou art not mad, but a foul witch to whom Satan hath\ngiven it in charge to work evil upon noble men. A drink!\"\n\n\"Hans, my beloved,\" said Katheline, \"be not wroth with thy\nhandmaiden! I suffer a thousand pangs for thee, my lord. Spare him,\nMessieurs the Judges. Give him a full goblet to drink, and keep but\none drop for me. Hans, is it not yet the hour of the sea-eagle?\"\n\nThe bailiff then said to Joos Damman:\n\n\"When thou didst kill Hilbert, what was the motive of this combat?\"\n\n\"It was,\" said Joos, \"for a girl at Heyst we both wished to have.\"\n\n\"A girl at Heyst!\" cried Katheline, trying at all costs to rise\nup from her bench; \"thou art deceiving me for another, traitor\ndevil. Didst thou know that I was listening to thee behind the dyke\nwhen thou saidst that thou wouldst fain have all the money, which was\nClaes's money? Without doubt it was to go and spend it with her in\nliquorishness and revelling! Alas! and I that would have given him\nmy blood if he could have made gold of it! And all for another! Be\naccursed!\"\n\nBut suddenly, weeping and trying to turn round on her bench of torture:\n\n\"Nay, Hans, say that thou wilt still love thy poor handmaid, and I\nshall scratch the earth with my fingers and find thee a treasure;\naye, there is such; and I will go with the hazel twig that bends\nthis way and that where there are metals; and I will find it and\nbring it back to thee; kiss me, darling, and thou shalt be rich;\nand we shall eat meat, and we shall drink beer every day; aye, aye,\nall these folk also drink beer; fresh, foaming beer. Oh! sirs, give\nme but one single drop; I am in the fire; Hans, I know well where\nthere are hazel trees, but we must wait for the spring time.\"\n\n\"Hold thy tongue, witch,\" said Joos Damman; \"I know thee not. Thou\nhast taken Hilbert for me: it was he that came to see thee. And in thy\nwicked mind thou didst call him Hans. Know that I am not called Hans,\nbut Joos: we were of the same height, Hilbert and I. I do not know\nthee; it was Hilbert, without doubt, that stole the seven hundred\nflorins carolus; give me to drink; my father will pay a hundred\nflorins for a little goblet of water; but I know not this woman.\"\n\n\"Monseigneur and Messires,\" exclaimed Katheline, \"he saith he knows\nme not, but I know him well, I, and know that he hath upon his back a\nmole, brown, and of the size of a bean. Ah! thou didst love a girl\nat Heyst! Doth a good lover blush for his lover? Hans, am I not\nstill fair?\"\n\n\"Fair!\" said he, \"thou hast a face like a medlar and a body like\na century of faggots: see the trash that would be loved by noble\nmen! Give me to drink!\"\n\n\"Thou didst not speak so, Hans, my sweet lord,\" said she, \"when I\nwas sixteen years younger than I am now.\" Then, beating her head and\nher breast: \"'Tis the fire that is there,\" said she, \"and dries up\nmy heart and withers my face. Do not reproach me with it; dost thou\nremember when we ate salt meat to drink better, so thou saidst? Now\nthe salt is in us, my beloved, and monseigneur the bailiff is drinking\nRomagna wine. We do not want wine: give us water. It runs among the\ngrass, the streamlet that makes the clear spring; the good water,\nit is cold. Nay, it burns. It is water of hell.\" And Katheline wept,\nand she said: \"I have done ill to no one, and the whole world casteth\nme into the fire. Give me to drink; men give water to straying dogs. I\nam a Christian woman. Give me to drink. I have done no ill to any. Give\nme to drink.\"\n\nAn alderman then spoke and said:\n\n\"This witch is mad only in what concerns the fire she saith burns\nher head, but she is nowise mad upon other matters, since she helped\nus with a clear head to discover the remains of the dead man. If the\nmole is there upon the body of Joos Damman, that sign sufficeth to\nestablish his identity with the devil Hans, for whom Katheline was\nout of her wits; tormentor, let us see the mark.\"\n\nThe tormentor, uncovering Damman's neck and shoulder, showed the mole,\nbrown and hairy.\n\n\"Ah!\" said Katheline, \"how white is thy skin! One would say a girl's\nshoulders; thou art goodly, Hans, my beloved: give me to drink!\"\n\nThe tormentor then thrust a long needle into the mole. But it did\nnot bleed.\n\nAnd the aldermen said one to the other:\n\n\"This man is a devil, and he must have killed Joos Damman and taken\nhis shape the more securely to deceive the poor world.\"\n\nAnd the bailiff and the aldermen fell into fear.\n\n\"He is a devil and there is witchcraft in it.\"\n\nAnd Joos Damman said:\n\n\"Ye know there is no witchcraft, and that there are such fleshy\nexcrescences that can be pricked without bleeding. If Hilbert hath\ntaken this witch's money, for it is she that confesseth to have lain\nwith the devil, he could well have done so by the good and free will\nof this foul hag. And was thus, being a man of rank, paid for his\ncaresses even as bona robas are every day. Are there not in the world,\nthe same as girls, gay fellows that make women pay for their strength\nand comeliness?\"\n\nThe aldermen said one to another:\n\n\"See you his diabolical assurance? His hairy wart hath not bled: being\nan assassin, a devil, and a magician, he would fain pass simply for\na duellist, throwing his other crimes on to the devil his friend,\nwhose body he has killed, but not his spirit.... And consider how\npale his face is.\"--\"Thus appear all the devils, red in hell, and\npale on earth, for they have none of the fire of life that giveth\nruddiness to the countenance, and they are ashes within.\"--\"We must\nput him in the fire that he may be red and that he may burn.\"\n\nThen said Katheline:\n\n\"Yea, he is a devil, but a kind devil, a sweet devil. And Monseigneur\nSaint Jacques, his patron, has given him licence to come out of\nhell. He prays Monseigneur Jesus for him every day. He will have\nbut seven thousand years of purgatory: Madame Virgin wishes it, but\nMonsieur Satan is against it. None the less Madame does what she has\na mind to. Will he go against her? If ye consider well, ye shall see\nhe hath kept naught of his estate and condition as a devil, save the\ncold body, and also the face luminous as are the waves of the sea in\nAugust when it is like to thunder.\"\n\nAnd Joos Damman said:\n\n\"Hold thy tongue, witch, thou wilt burn me.\" Then speaking to the\nbailiff and the aldermen: \"Look at me, I am no devil; I have flesh\nand bones, blood and water. I drink and eat, digest and void like\nyourselves; my skin is like yours, my foot likewise; tormentor,\ntake my boots off, for I cannot budge with my feet bound.\"\n\nThe tormentor did so, not without fear.\n\n\"Look,\" said Joos, showing his white feet: \"are those cloven feet,\ndevil's feet? As for my paleness, is there none of you that is pale\nlike me? I see more than three among you. But the sinner is not I,\nbut verily this ugly witch, and her daughter, the evil accuser. Whence\ndid she have the money she lent to Hilbert; whence came those florins\nthat she gave him? Was it not the devil that paid her to accuse and\nbring death to men of noble birth and guiltless? It is those twain\nthat should be asked who killed the dog in the yard, who dug the hole\nand went off leaving it empty, doubtless to hide the stolen treasure\nin another place. Soetkin the widow had placed no trust in me, for\nshe never knew me, but in them, and saw them every day. It is they\nthat stole the Emperor's property.\"\n\nThe clerk wrote, and the bailiff said to Katheline:\n\n\"Woman, hast thou naught to say for thy defence?\"\n\nKatheline, looking upon Joos Damman, said most amorously:\n\n\"It is the hour of the sea-eagle. I have Hilbert's hand, Hans,\nmy beloved. They say that thou wilt give me back the seven hundred\ncarolus. Take away the fire! Take away the fire!\" cried she after\nthat. \"Give me to drink! to drink! my head burns. God and the angels\nare eating apples in the sky.\"\n\nAnd she lost consciousness.\n\n\"Loosen her from the bench of torment,\" said the bailiff.\n\nThe tormentor and his assistants obeyed. And she was seen staggering\nand with feet swollen out, for the tormentor had pulled the cords\ntoo tight.\n\n\"Give her to drink,\" said the bailiff.\n\nCold water was given her, and she swallowed it greedily, holding\nthe goblet in her teeth as a dog does with a bone and not willing to\nlet it go. Then they gave her more water, and she would have gone to\ntake it to Joos Damman, but the tormentor took the goblet out of her\nhands. And she fell sleeping like a lump of lead.\n\nJoos Damman cried out furiously:\n\n\"I, too, I thirst and am sleepy. Why do you give her to drink? Why\ndo you leave her to sleep?\"\n\n\"She is weak, a woman, and out of her wits,\" replied the bailiff.\n\n\"Her madness is a game,\" said Joos Damman, \"she is a witch. I want\nto drink, I want to sleep!\"\n\nAnd he shut his eyes, but the tormentor's knechts struck him on\nthe face.\n\n\"Give me a knife,\" he shouted, \"till I cut these clowns to pieces:\nI am a man of rank, and I have never been struck in the face. Water,\nlet me sleep, I am innocent. It was not I that took the seven hundred\ncarolus, it was Hilbert. Give me to drink! I never committed sorceries\nor incantations. I am innocent. Let me go. Give me to drink!\"\n\nThe bailiff then:\n\n\"How,\" he asked, \"hast thou spent thy time since thou didst leave\nKatheline?\"\n\n\"I know not Katheline; I have never left her,\" said he. \"Ye question\nme on matters foreign to the case. I need not answer you. Give me to\ndrink; let me sleep. I tell you it was Hilbert that did all.\"\n\n\"Untie him,\" said the bailiff. \"Take him back to his prison. But let\nhim thirst and have no sleep until he hath confessed his sorceries\nand incantations.\"\n\nAnd that was a cruel torture to Damman. He cried out in his cell:\n\"Give me to drink! Give me to drink!\" so loud that the people heard\nhim, but without any pity. And when his guardians struck him in the\nface as he was falling with sleep, he was like a tiger and cried:\n\n\"I am a man of rank and will kill you, ye clowns. I will go to the\nking, our head. Give me to drink.\" But he confessed nothing, and they\nleft him alone.\n\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nThey were then in May, the lime tree of justice was green; green,\ntoo, were the turf seats upon which the judges placed themselves;\nNele was called as witness. On this day sentence was to be pronounced.\n\nAnd the people, men, women, townsfolk, and artisans were all round\nabout in the field; and the sun shone bright.\n\nKatheline and Joos Damman were brought before the tribunal; and Damman\nappeared paler than ever by reason of the torture of the thirst and\nthe nights spent without sleep.\n\nKatheline, who could not maintain herself on her shaking legs, said,\npointing to the sun:\n\n\"Take away the fire; my head burns!\"\n\nAnd she looked on Joos Damman with tender love.\n\nAnd he looked at her with hate and contempt.\n\nAnd the lords and gentlemen his friends, having been summoned to Damme,\nwere all present as witnesses before the tribunal.\n\nThen the bailiff spake and said:\n\n\"Nele, the girl who defends her mother Katheline with such great and\ncourageous affection, found in the pocket stitched in her mother's\njacket, a jacket for feast days, a note signed 'Joos Damman.' Among\nthe belongings taken from the corpse of Hilbert Ryvish I found in\nthe dead man's satchel another letter addressed to him by the said\nJoos Damman, the defendant here present before you. I have kept both\nthese letters in my custody, in order that at the appropriate moment,\nwhich is the present, you might judge of this man's obstinacy and\nacquit or condemn him in accordance with law and justice. Here is\nthe parchment found in the satchel; I have never touched it, and know\nnot whether it is legible or not.\"\n\nThe judges were then in great perplexity.\n\nThe bailiff endeavoured to undo the parchment ball; but it was in vain,\nand Joos Damman laughed.\n\nAn alderman said:\n\n\"Let us put the ball in water, and then before the fire. If there is\nin it any secret of adhesion, the fire and the water will melt it.\"\n\nThe water was brought; the executioner lit a great fire of wood in\nthe field; the smoke rose up blue into the clear sky through the\nverdurous branches of the lime tree of justice.\n\n\"Do not put the letter in the basin,\" said an alderman \"for if it\nis written with sal ammoniac dissolved in water, you will efface\nthe characters.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the surgeon, who was there, \"the characters will not be\neffaced; the water will soften only the point that keeps the magic\nball from opening up.\"\n\nThe parchment was dipped in the water and being softened, was unfolded.\n\n\"Now,\" said the surgeon, \"put it before the fire.\"\n\n\"Aye, aye,\" said Nele, \"put the paper before the fire; master surgeon\nis on the road to the truth, for the murderer grows pale and trembles\nin his limbs.\"\n\nThereupon, Messire Joos Damman said:\n\n\"I neither grew pale nor trembled, thou little common harpy that\nart fain of the death of a man of rank; thou shalt never succeed;\nthis parchment must needs be rotten, after sixteen years' sojourning\nin the earth.\"\n\n\"The parchment is not decayed,\" said the sheriff, \"for the satchel\nwas lined with silk; silk is not consumed in the earth, and the worms\nhave not gone through the parchment.\"\n\nThe parchment was put in front of the fire.\n\n\"Monseigneur Bailiff, Monseigneur Bailiff,\" said Nele, \"there is the\nink appearing before the fire; give orders that the writing be read.\"\n\nAs the surgeon was about to read it, Messire Joos Damman would have\nstretched out his arms to seize the parchment; but Nele flung herself\nupon his arm quick as the wind and said:\n\n\"Thou shalt not touch it, for thereon is written thy death or the\ndeath of Katheline. If now thy heart bleeds, murderer, there are\nfifteen years through which ours have been bleeding; fifteen years\nthat Katheline suffers; fifteen years she had her brain in her head\nburned by thee; fifteen years that Soetkin is dead by consequence\nof the torture; fifteen years that we are needy, ragged, and live in\nabject want, but proudly. Read the paper, read the paper! The judges\nare God upon earth, for they are Justice; read the paper!\"\n\n\"Read the paper!\" cried the men and women, weeping. \"Nele is a brave\nlass! read the paper! Katheline is no witch!\"\n\nAnd the clerk read:\n\n\n    \"To Hilbert, son of Willem Ryvish, Esquire, Joos Damman, greeting.\n\n    \"Blessed friend, lose thy money no more in gambling dens, at\n    dice, and other follies. I will tell thee how it can be won for\n    very certain. Let us make us devils, handsome devils, beloved of\n    women and of girls. Let us take the fair and rich, let us leave\n    the ugly and poor; let them pay for their pleasure. I made,\n    at this trade, in six months five thousand rixdaeldars in the\n    country of Germany. Women will give their petticoat and chemise\n    to their man when they love him; flee from the miserly ones with\n    pinched up nose that take time to pay for their pleasures. For\n    thy own affair, and to appear goodly and a true devil, an incubus,\n    if they accept thee for the night, announce thy coming by crying\n    like a night bird. And to make thee a veritable devil's face,\n    of a terrifying devil, rub thy visage with phosphorus, which is\n    luminous in spots when it is damp. Its odour is disagreeable,\n    but they will believe that it is the odour of hell. Slay what is\n    in thy way, man, woman, or beast.\n\n    \"We shall soon go together to the house of Katheline, a fine\n    good-natured wench; her daughter Nele, a child of my own, if\n    Katheline was faithful to me, is comely and pretty; thou wilt\n    take her easily; I give her to thee, for I care but little for\n    these bastards that cannot for certain be recognized as one's\n    own offspring. Her mother gave me already more than twenty-three\n    carolus, all she possessed. But she hath a treasure hidden,\n    which is, unless I be a fool, the inheritance of Claes, the\n    heretic burned at Damme: seven hundred florins carolus liable to\n    confiscation, but the good King Philip, who had so many of his\n    subjects burned to inherit after them, could never lay his claw\n    on this sweet treasure. It will weigh more in my pouch than in\n    his. Katheline will tell me where it is; we shall divide. Only\n    thou must leave me the greater part for the discovery.\n\n    \"As for the women, being our gentle handmaids and slaves in love,\n    we shall take them to the land of Germany. There we shall teach\n    them to become female demons and succubae, drawing the love of\n    all the rich burgesses and men of birth; there we shall live, they\n    and we, upon love paid for with good rixdaeldars, velvets, silk,\n    gold, pearls, and jewels; we shall thus be rich without fatigue,\n    and, unknown to the succubae devils, beloved by the most lovely,\n    always exacting payment besides. All women are fools and ninnies\n    for the man that can light the fire of love that God set beneath\n    their girdles. Katheline and Nele will be more so than others,\n    and believing us to be devils, will obey us in all things: thou,\n    do thou keep thy forename, but never give the name of thy father,\n    Ryvish. If the judge seizes the women, we shall depart without\n    their knowing us or being able to denounce us. To the rescue,\n    my trusty comrade. Fortune smiles on the young, as was wont to\n    say his late Sainted Majesty Charles the Fifth, past master in\n    affairs of love and of war.\"\n\n\nAnd the clerk, making an end of reading, said:\n\n\"Such is this letter, and it is signed, 'Joos Damman, esquire'.\"\n\nAnd the people shouted:\n\n\"To the death with the murderer! To the death with the sorcerer! To\nthe fire the turner of women's wits! To the gallows with the robber!\"\n\nThe bailiff said then:\n\n\"People, keep silence, that in all freedom we may judge this man.\"\n\nAnd speaking to the aldermen:\n\n\"I will,\" said he, \"read to you the second letter, found by Nele in\nthe pocket of Katheline's festal jacket; it is conceived as follows:\n\n\n    \"Darling Witch, here is the recipe of a compound sent me by the\n    very wife of Lucifer: by the help of this compound thou wilt be\n    able to transport thyself to the sun, the moon, and the stars,\n    converse with the elemental spirits that carry the prayers of\n    men unto God, and to traverse all the towns and burgs and rivers\n    and fields of the whole universe. Thou art to bruise together\n    in equal quantities: stramonium, sleep-solanum, henbane, opium,\n    the fresh tips of hemp, belladonna, and datura.\n\n    \"If thou wilt, we shall go this night to the sabbath of the\n    spirits: but thou must love me better and not be miserly again\n    like the other night, when thou didst refuse me ten florins,\n    saying thou didst not have them. I know that thou dost hide a\n    treasure and wilt not tell me of it. Dost thou love me no longer,\n    my sweetheart?\"\n\n                                                \"Thy cold devil,\n\n                                                           \"Hanske.\"\n\n\n\"To the death with the sorcerer!\" cried the people.\n\nThe bailiff said:\n\n\"We must compare the two writings.\"\n\nThis being done, they were adjudged to be similar. The bailiff then\nsaid to the lords and gentlemen there present:\n\n\"Do ye recognize this man for Messire Joos Damman, son of the alderman\nof La Keure of Ghent?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said they.\n\n\"Did ye know,\" said he, \"Messire Hilbert, son of Willem Ryvish,\nEsquire?\"\n\nOne of the gentlemen, who was called Van der Zickelen, spoke and said:\n\n\"I am from Ghent; my house is in St. Michael's Place; I know Willem\nRyvish, Esquire, sheriff of La Keure of Ghent. He lost, fifteen years\npast, a son of twenty-three years of age, debauched, a gamester, an\nidler; but everyone forgave it him because of his youth. Since that\ntime no man has had news of him. I ask to see the sword, the poignard,\nand the satchel of the dead man.\"\n\nHaving them before him, he said:\n\n\"The sword and the poignard carry on the pommel of the hilt the arms\nof the Ryvishes, which are three silver fish on an azure field. I\nsee the same arms reproduced on a gold shield between the meshes of\nhis pouch. What is that other poignard?\"\n\nThe bailiff speaking:\n\n\"It is that poignard,\" said he, \"which was found planted in the body\nof Hilbert Ryvish, the son of Willem.\"\n\n\"I recognize on it,\" said the lord, \"the arms of the Dammans; the\ntower gules on a silver field. So keep me God and all his saints.\"\n\nThe other gentlemen also said:\n\n\"We recognize the aforesaid arms for those of Ryvish and of Damman. So\nkeep us God and all his saints.\"\n\nThen the bailiff said:\n\n\"From the evidence heard and read by the tribunal of aldermen, Messire\nJoos Damman is the sorcerer, a murderer, a seducer of women, a robber\nof the king's goods, and as such guilty of the crime of treason human\nand divine.\"\n\n\"You say so, Messire Bailiff,\" rejoined Joos, \"but you will not condemn\nme, lacking sufficient proofs: I am not nor ever was a sorcerer;\nI did but play at the game of being a devil. As for my shining face,\nyou have the recipe for it and that for the unguent, the which, while\ncontaining henbane, is merely soporific. When this woman, a real witch,\nused it, she fell in a trance, and thought she went to the sabbath and\nthere danced in the ring with her face to the outside of the circle,\nand adored a devil with the shape of a goat, set upon an altar.\n\n\"The dance being over, she thought she went and kissed him under\nthe tail, as sorcerers do, to give herself up thereafter with me,\nher friend, to strange copulations pleasing to her perverted mind. If\nI had, as she says, cold arms and cool body, it was a mark of youth,\nnot of sorcery. In the works of love coolness doth not endure. But\nKatheline would fain believe what she desired, and take me for a\ndevil notwithstanding that I am a man of flesh and bone, in everything\nas yourselves that look at me. She alone is guilty: taking me for a\ndemon and receiving me in her bed, she sinned both in intention and\ndeed against God and the Holy Spirit. It is therefore she, and not I,\nthat committed the crime of sorcery; it is she that is to be made to\npass through the fire, as a furious and malignant witch that seeks\nto make herself pass for a madwoman, in order to hide her cunning.\"\n\nBut Nele:\n\n\"Do ye hear him,\" said she, \"the murderer? He hath, like a girl for\nsale, with the armlet on her arm, made a trade and merchandise of\nlove. Do ye hear him? He means, to save himself, to have her burned\nthat gave him all.\"\n\n\"Nele is bad,\" said Katheline, \"do not listen to her, Hans, my\nbeloved.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Nele, \"nay, thou art no man: thou art a cowardly cruel\ndevil.\" And taking Katheline in her arms: \"Messieurs Judges,\" exclaimed\nshe, \"listen not to this pale evil one: he hath but one wish, to see\nmy mother burn, she that did no other crime but to be smitten by God\nwith madness, and to believe the phantoms of her dreams real. She\nhath already suffered much in her body and in her mind. Do not put\nher to death, Messieurs the Judges. Leave the innocent to live out\nher sad life in peace.\"\n\nAnd Katheline said: \"Nele is bad; thou must not believe her, Hans\nmy lord.\"\n\nAnd among the common folk the women were weeping and the men said:\n\"Pardon for Katheline.\"\n\nThe bailiff and the aldermen gave their sentence on Joos Damman, upon a\nconfession which he made after being tortured afresh: he was condemned\nto be degraded from his noble estate and burned alive in a slow fire\nuntil death ensued, and suffered the penalty the next day before\nthe doors of the Townhall, still saying: \"Put the witch to death;\nshe alone is guilty! Cursed be God! my father will slay the judges.\"\n\nAnd he rendered up the ghost.\n\nAnd the people said: \"See him cursing and a blasphemer: he dies like\na dog.\"\n\nNext day the bailiff and the aldermen gave their sentence upon\nKatheline, who was condemned to undergo the trial by water in the\nBruges Canal. Floating, she should be burned as a witch; going to the\nbottom and dying, she should be regarded as dying like a Christian,\nand as such should be interred in the garden of the church, which is\nthe graveyard.\n\nThe day after, Katheline, holding a wax taper in her hand, barefooted\nand clad in a chemise of black linen, was brought to the bank of\nthe canal, all along by the trees, in grand procession. Before her\nmarched, singing the prayers for the dead, the dean of Notre Dame,\nhis vicars, the beadle carrying the cross; and behind, the bailiffs\nof Damme, the aldermen, the clerks and recorders, the constables of\nthe commune, the provost, the executioner and his two assistants. Upon\nthe banks there was a great crowd of women weeping and men growling,\nin pity for Katheline, who walked as a lamb suffering herself to be\nled she knew not whither, and always saying: \"Take away the fire,\nmy head burns! Hans, where art thou?\"\n\nIn the midst of the women Nele cried: \"I want to be thrown in with\nher.\" But the women did not suffer her to come near to Katheline.\n\nA sharp wind blew from the sea; from the gray sky a fine hail was\nfalling into the water of the canal; a bark was there, which the\nexecutioner and his men seized in the name of His Majesty the king. At\ntheir command, Katheline went into it; the executioner was seen,\nstanding in it, and at the signal of the provost lifting his wand\nof justice, he cast Katheline into the canal: she struggled, but not\nfor long, and went to the bottom, having cried out: \"Hans! Hans! help!\"\n\nAnd the people said: \"This woman is no witch.\"\n\nMen plunged into the canal and pulled Katheline out from it,\nunconscious and rigid as a corpse. Then she was brought into a tavern\nand placed before a great fire; Nele took off her clothes and her wet\nlinen, to give her others; when she came back to herself, she said,\ntrembling and chattering her teeth:\n\n\"Hans, give me a woollen cloak.\"\n\nAnd Katheline could not get back her warmth. And she died on the\nthird day. And she was interred in the garden of the church.\n\nAnd Nele, orphaned, departed to the land of Holland, to Rosa van\nAuweghen.\n\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nUpon the hulls of Zealand, on boyers, on croust\u00e8ves, away goes Thyl\nClaes Ulenspiegel.\n\nThe free sea wafts the valiant flyboats on which are eight, ten or\ntwenty guns all of iron: they belch forth death and massacre on the\ntraitor Spaniards.\n\nHe is an expert gunner, Thyl Ulenspiegel, son of Claes, lo how he aims\nstraight and true, and pierces like a wall of butter the carcases of\nthe butchers.\n\nIn his hat he wears the silver crescent, with this legend: \"Liever\nden Turc als den Paus\": \"Rather to serve the Turk than the Pope.\"\n\nThe sailors that see him climb up upon their ships, agile as a cat,\nsupple as a squirrel, singing some song or other, with some gay jest\nin his mouth, would ask him curiously:\n\n\"Whence is it, little man, that thou hast so young a mien, for they\nsay thou wert born long ago at Damme?\"\n\n\"I am no body, but a spirit,\" said he, \"and Nele, my sweetheart,\nis like me. Spirit of Flanders, love of Flanders, we shall never die.\"\n\n\"And yet,\" said they, \"when thou art cut, thou dost bleed.\"\n\n\n\"Ye see but the appearance of it,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"it is wine\nand not blood.\"\n\n\"We will broach thy belly, then!\"\n\n\"I would be the only one to drain it,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Thou art mocking us.\"\n\n\"He that beats the case will hear the drum,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd the embroidered banners of the Roman Catholic processions floated\nfrom the masts of the ships. And clad in velvet, in brocade, in silk,\nin cloth of gold and of silver, such as abbots wear at solemn masses,\nbearing mitre and crozier, drinking the monks' wine, the Beggars kept\nguard on their ships.\n\nAnd it was a strange sight to behold appearing from out of these\nrich vestments those coarse hands that held arquebus or arbalest,\nhalberd or pike, and all men of hard physiognomy, girt about with\npistols and cutlasses gleaming in the sun, and drinking from golden\nchalices the abbots' wine that had become the wine of liberty.\n\nAnd they sang and they shouted: \"Long live the Beggar!\" and thus they\nscoured the ocean and the Scheldt.\n\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nAt this time the Beggars, among whom were Lamme and Ulenspiegel, took\nGorcum. And they were commanded by Captain Marin: this Marin, who had\nbeen a workman on the dykes, disported himself with great haughtiness\nand sufficiency, and signed with Gaspard Turc, the defender of Gorcum,\na capitulation whereby Turc, the monks, burgesses, and soldiers shut\nup in the citadel were to come forth freely, bullet in mouth, musket\non shoulder, with all that they could carry, save that the goods of\nthe Church should be left to the assailants.\n\nBut Captain Marin, upon an order from Messire de Lumey, held the\nnineteen monks as prisoners, and let the soldiers and the citizens\ngo free.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel said:\n\n\"The word of a soldier should be a word of gold. Why doth he fail\nof his?\"\n\nAn ancient Beggar made answer to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"The monks are sons of Satan, the leprosy of nations, the shame of\ncountries. Since the coming of the Duke of Alba, these fellows lifted\nup their noses high in Gorcum. There is among them one, the priest\nNicolas, prouder than a peacock and fiercer than a tiger. Every time\nhe passed in the street with his pyx in which was his host made with\ndog's fat, he would look with eyes full of fury at the houses from\nwhich the women did not come and kneel, and would denounce to the\njudge all that did not bend the knee before his idol of dough and\ngilded brass. The other monks imitated him. That was the cause of\nmany great oppressions, burnings, and cruel punishments in the town of\nGorcum. Captain Marin does well to keep prisoner the monks who would\nelse go off with their likes into villages, burgs, towns, and townlets,\nto preach against us, stirring up the populace and causing the poor\nreformers to be burned. Mastiffs are put on the chain until they die:\nto the chain with the monks; to the chain with the bloed-honden,\nthe duke's blood-hounds; to the cage with the butchers. Long live\nthe Beggar!\"\n\n\"But,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"Monseigneur d'Orange, our prince of liberty,\nwills that we should respect, among those who surrender, the property\nof individuals and freedom of conscience.\"\n\nThe ancient Beggars replied:\n\n\"The admiral wills it not for the monks: he is master; he took\nBriele. To the cage with the monks!\"\n\n\"Word of a soldier, word of gold! why does he fail of it?\" answered\nUlenspiegel. \"The monks kept in prison suffer a thousand insults.\"\n\n\"The ashes beat no longer upon thy heart,\" said they: \"a hundred\nthousand families, in consequence of the edicts, have taken over\nyonder, to the north-west, to the land of England, the trades, the\nindustry, the wealth of our country; bemoan then those that wrought\nour ruin! Under the Emperor Charles the Fifth, Butcher the First,\nunder this one, the king of Blood, Butcher the Second, one hundred\nand eighteen thousand persons have perished by execution. Who carried\nthe taper of the obsequies in murder and in tears? Monks and soldiers\nof Spain. Dost thou not hear the souls of the dead lamenting?\"\n\n\"The ashes beat upon my heart,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"Word of a soldier,\n'tis word of gold.\"\n\n\"Who then,\" said they, \"would by excommunication have put the country\nunder the ban of all nations? Who would have armed against us, had\nit been possible, earth and sky, God and the devil, and their serried\nranks of saints, both male and female? Who made the sacred host bleed\nwith the blood of an ox, who made wooden statues weep? Who had the De\nProfundis sung in the land of our fathers, if not this accursed clergy,\nthese hordes of lazy monks, in order that they might keep their riches,\ntheir influence over idol worshippers, and reign over the poor country\nby ruin, blood, and fire. To the cage with the wolves that rush upon\nmen on earth; to the cage with the hy\u00e6nas! Long live the Beggar!\"\n\n\"Word of a soldier, word of gold,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nThe next day a message came from Messire de Lumey, with orders to\ntransfer from Gorcum to Briele, where the admiral was, the nineteen\nmonks that were prisoners.\n\n\"They will be hanged,\" said Captain Marin to Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Not while I am alive,\" replied he.\n\n\"My son,\" said Lamme, \"speak not thus to Messire de Lumey. He is\nfierce, and will hang thee with them without mercy.\"\n\n\"I shall speak according to the truth,\" replied Ulenspiegel; \"word\nof a soldier, word of gold.\"\n\n\"If thou canst save them,\" said Marin, \"take their boat to Briele. Take\nwith thee Rochus the pilot and thy friend Lamme if thou wilt.\"\n\n\"I do wish it,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\nThe boat was moored at the Green quay; the nineteen monks entered\ninto it; Rochus the timid was set at the helm; Ulenspiegel and Lamme,\nwell armed, took their place at the prow of the ship. Certain rascal\ntroopers that had come among the Beggars for pillage were beside the\nmonks, who were hungry. Ulenspiegel gave them drink and food. \"That\none is going to turn traitor!\" said the rascal troopers. The nineteen\nmonks, seated amidships, were all gaping and shivering, though it\nwas July, and the sun was bright and hot, and a gentle breeze filled\nout the sails of the ship as she glided massive and bulging over the\ngreen waves.\n\nFather Nicolas then spake and said to the pilot:\n\n\"Rochus, are we being brought to the Gallows Field?\"\n\nThen turning towards Gorcum: \"O town of Gorcum!\" said he, standing\nand stretching out his hand, \"town of Gorcum! how many woes hast thou\nto suffer: thou shalt be accursed among cities, for thou hast grown\nwithin thy walls the grain of heresy! O town of Gorcum! And the angel\nof the Lord shall watch no longer at thy gates. He will have no more\ncare of thy virgins' modesty, the courage of thy men, the fortune of\nthy merchants! O town of Gorcum! thou art accursed, unfortunate!\"\n\n\"Accursed, accursed,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"accursed as the comb that\nhath passed through and taken away the Spanish lice, accursed as the\ndog breaking his chain, as the proud horse shaking a cruel rider from\noff his back! Accursed thyself, booby preacher, who findest ill that\nthe rod should be broken, were it an iron rod upon the tyrants' back!\"\n\nThe monk held his tongue, and lowering his eyes, appeared steeped in\nholy hate.\n\nThe rascal soldiers that had come among the Beggars for the sake of\npillage were close by the monks, who soon were hungry. Ulenspiegel\nasked biscuit and herrings for them; the ship master answered:\n\n\"Let them be thrown into the Meuse, they can have fresh herring to\neat then.\"\n\nUlenspiegel then gave the monks all the bread and sausage he had for\nhimself and for Lamme. The ship-master and the rascal Beggars said\none to another:\n\n\"This one is a traitor, he is feeding the monks; we must denounce him.\"\n\nAt Dordrecht the ship stopped in the Harbour at the Bloemen-Key,\nthe Flower quay; men, women, lads, and lasses ran up in crowds to see\nthe monks, and said to one another pointing at them with a finger or\nthreatening them with their fist:\n\n\"Look at those clowns, manufacturers of Bons Dieux that bring men's\nbodies to the stake and their souls to the fire everlasting; look at\nthe fat tigers and big-bellied jackals.\"\n\nThe monks hung their heads and dared not speak. Ulenspiegel saw them\ntrembling once more.\n\n\"We are hungry again,\" said they, \"compassionate soldier.\"\n\nBut the ship master:\n\n\"What is always drinking? Dry sand. Who eats without ceasing? The\nmonk.\"\n\nUlenspiegel went up the town to find bread for them, ham, and a great\njug of beer.\n\n\"Eat and drink,\" said he; \"ye are our prisoners, but I shall save\nyou if I can. Word of a soldier, word of gold.\"\n\n\"Why dost thou give them that? They will never pay you,\" said the\nrascal Beggars; and talking among themselves they whispered these\nwords in each other's ears: \"He has promised to save them; let us\nkeep good watch upon him.\"\n\nAt dawn they came to Briele. The gates having been opened to them,\na voet-looper, a courier, went to inform Messire de Lumey of their\ncoming.\n\nAs soon as he had the news, he came on horseback, having just put\non his clothes, and accompanied by some horsemen and foot-soldiers,\nwith their weapons.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel could see once more the fierce admiral clad like a\nproud lord living in opulence.\n\n\"Hail and greeting,\" said he, \"Messires the monks. Lift up your\nhands. Where is the blood of Messieurs d'Egmont and de Hoorn? Ye show\nme clean white paws; 'tis well for you.\"\n\nA monk called Leonard answered:\n\n\"Do with us as thou wilt. We are monks; no one will claim us.\"\n\n\"He hath well said,\" said Ulenspiegel; \"for the monk having broken with\nthe world, which is father and mother, brother and sister, spouse and\nlover, finds at the hour of God no soul that claims him. And yet,\nYour Excellency, I will do so. Captain Marin, when he signed the\ncapitulation of Gorcum, agreed that these monks should be free as all\nthose that were taken in the citadel, and who came out from it. And\nyet they were held prisoner without cause; I hear it said they shall be\nhanged. Monseigneur, I address myself humbly to you, speaking to you on\ntheir behalf, for I know that the word of a soldier is word of gold.\"\n\n\"Who art thou?\" asked Messire de Lumey.\n\n\"Monseigneur,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"Fleming am I from the goodly\nland of Flanders, clown, nobleman, all at once, and through the\nworld in this wise I go wandering, praising things good and lovely,\nand mocking folly without stint. And I will praise you if you keep\nto the promise made by the captain: word of a soldier, word of gold.\"\n\nBut the rascally Beggars that were upon the ship:\n\n\"Monseigneur,\" said they, \"that fellow is a traitor: he hath promised\nto save them; he hath given them bread, ham, sausages, and beer,\nand to us nothing.\"\n\nMessire de Lumey said then to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Fleming gadabout and monk feeder, thou shalt be hanged with them.\"\n\n\"I have no fear,\" answered Ulenspiegel, \"word of a soldier, word\nof gold.\"\n\n\"Thou carriest thy comb high,\" said de Lumey.\n\n\"The ashes beat upon my heart,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nThe monks were brought into a barn, and Ulenspiegel with them: there\nthey would fain have converted him by theological disputations;\nbut he fell asleep listening to them.\n\nMessire de Lumey being at table, full of wine and meat, a messenger\narrived from Gorcum, from Captain Marin, with a copy of letters from\nthe Silent, Prince of Orange, \"commanding all governors of cities\nand other places to hold the ecclesiastics in like safeguard, safety,\nand privilege as the rest of the people.\"\n\nThe messenger asked to be brought before de Lumey to give the copy\nof the letters into his own hands.\n\n\"Where is the original?\" de Lumey asked him.\n\n\"With my master,\" said the messenger.\n\n\"And the clown sends me the copy!\" said de Lumey. \"Where is thy\npassport?\"\n\n\"Here it is, Monseigneur,\" said the messenger.\n\nMessire de Lumey read it in a loud voice:\n\n\"Monseigneur and master Marin Brandt enjoins upon the ministers,\ngovernors, and officers of the republic that they suffer to pass\nsafely,\" etc.\n\nDe Lumey, striking his fist on the table and tearing up the passport:\n\n\"God's blood!\" said he, \"what is he meddling with, this Marin, this\ntrash, who had not, before the taking of Briele, the backbone of a\nred herring to put between his teeth? He dubs himself monseigneur\nand master, and sends me his order. He enjoins and ordains! Tell thy\nmaster that since he is so much captain and monseigneur, and so much\nbidding and forbidding, the monks shall be hanged high and short at\nonce, and thou with them if thou dost not take thyself off.\"\n\nAnd fetching him a kick, he sent him out of the chamber.\n\n\"Give me to drink,\" he cried. \"Have you seen the insolence of this\nMarin? I could spit out my breakfast with rage. Let them hang the\nmonks immediately in their barn, and bring me their Flemish conductor,\nafter he has seen their execution. We shall see if he will dare\nto tell me I have done wrong. God's blood! what are these jugs and\nglasses wanted here for still?\"\n\nAnd he broke with a great crashing the cups and dishes, and no man\ndared speak to him. The servants would have picked up the pieces;\nhe did not allow them, and drinking out of the flasks immoderately,\nhe became more and more angry, striding about and crushing the bits\nand trampling on them furiously.\n\nUlenspiegel was brought before him.\n\n\"Well!\" said he, \"dost thou bring tidings of thy friends the monks?\"\n\n\"They are hanged,\" said Ulenspiegel; \"and a cowardly executioner,\nkilling them for hire, opened the belly and sides of one of them after\ndeath, like a disembowelled pig, to sell the fat to an apothecary. Word\nof a soldier is no longer word of gold.\"\n\nDe Lumey, trampling among the broken crockery:\n\n\"Thou bravest me,\" said he, \"four-foot rascal, but thou, too, shalt\nbe hanged, not in a barn, but ignominiously on the open square,\nin the eyes of everybody.\"\n\n\"Shame upon you,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"shame upon us: word of a soldier\nno longer word of gold.\"\n\n\"Wilt thou hold thy tongue, mule!\" said Messire de Lumey.\n\n\"Shame upon thee,\" said Ulenspiegel; \"word of a soldier is no more\nword of gold. Punish rather the rascally vendors of human fat.\"\n\nThen Messire de Lumey, rushing on him, raised his hand to strike him.\n\n\"Strike,\" said Ulenspiegel; \"I am thy prisoner, but I have no fear\nof thee; word of a soldier is no more word of gold.\"\n\nMessire de Lumey then drew his sword and would certainly have\nslain Ulenspiegel if Messire de Tres-Long, holding back his arm,\nhad not said:\n\n\"Have pity! he is brave and valiant; he hath committed no crime!\"\n\nDe Lumey, then controlling himself:\n\n\"Let him ask pardon,\" said he.\n\nBut Ulenspiegel, remaining upright:\n\n\"I will not,\" said he.\n\n\"Let him say at least that I was not wrong,\" cried de Lumey, becoming\nfurious.\n\nUlenspiegel made answer:\n\n\"I do not lick the boots of lords: word of a soldier is no more word\nof gold.\"\n\n\"Let them erect the gallows,\" said de Lumey, \"and let them bring him\nto it; that will be a hempen word for him.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"and I shall cry out in the presence of all\nthe people: 'Word of a soldier is no more word of gold!'\"\n\nThe gallows was set up on the great marketplace. The news ran swiftly\nabout the town that they were about to hang Ulenspiegel, the valiant\nBeggar. And the people were moved with pity and compassion. And they\nran together in a crowd to the great market; Messire de Lumey came\nthither also on horseback, wishing himself to give the signal for\nthe execution.\n\nHe looked with no mildness upon Ulenspiegel on the ladder, arrayed\nfor death, in his shirt, his arms tied to his body, his hands folded,\nthe rope about his neck, and the executioner ready to do his work.\n\nTres-Long said to him:\n\n\"Monseigneur, pardon him; he is no traitor, and no one ever saw a\nman hanged because he was sincere and merciful.\"\n\nAnd the men and women of the people, hearing Tres-Long speak, cried:\n\"Pity, Monseigneur, grace and pity for Ulenspiegel.\"\n\n\"That mule-headed fellow braved me,\" said de Lumey: \"let him repent\nand say I did right.\"\n\n\"Wilt thou repent and say that he did right?\" said Tres-Long to\nUlenspiegel.\n\n\"Word of a soldier is no more word of gold,\" replied Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Put on the rope,\" said de Lumey.\n\nThe executioner was about to obey; a young girl, all clad in white\nand garlanded with flowers, ran up the stairs of the scaffold, leaped\non Ulenspiegel's neck, and said:\n\n\"This man is mine; I take him for my husband.\"\n\nAnd the people applauded and the women cried out:\n\n\"Long live, long live the girl who is Ulenspiegel's saviour!\"\n\n\"What is this?\" asked Messire de Lumey.\n\nTres-Long answered:\n\n\"After the use and custom of the town, it is by right and law that\na young maiden and unmarried woman can save a man from the rope by\ntaking him for husband at the foot of the gallows.\"\n\n\"God is with him,\" said de Lumey; \"untie him.\"\n\nThen riding up to the scaffold, he saw the girl prevented from cutting\nUlenspiegel's ropes and the executioner seeking to oppose her efforts\nand saying:\n\n\"If you cut them, who will pay for them?\"\n\nBut the girl paid no heed to him.\n\nSeeing her so light, so loving, and so subtle, he was touched.\n\n\"Who art thou?\" said he.\n\n\"I am Nele, his betrothed,\" said she, \"and I come from Flanders to\nseek him.\"\n\n\"Thou didst well,\" said de Lumey in a naughty voice.\n\nAnd he went away.\n\nTres-Long then coming up:\n\n\"Little Fleming,\" said he, \"once thou art married wilt thou be a\nsoldier still in our ships?\"\n\n\"Aye, Messire,\" answered Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"And thou, girl, what wilt thou do without thy man?\" Nele answered:\n\n\"If you are willing, Messire, I will be fifer in his ship.\"\n\n\"I am willing,\" said Tres-Long.\n\nAnd he gave her two florins for the wedding feast.\n\nAnd Lamme, weeping and laughing with pleasure, said:\n\n\"Here are three florins more: we shall eat it all; I am paying. Let\nus go to the Golden Comb. He is not dead, my friend. Long live the\nBeggar!\"\n\nAnd the people applauded, and they went off to the Golden Comb, where\na great feast was ordered: and Lamme threw deniers to the people out\nof the windows.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel said to Nele:\n\n\"Darling beloved, there thou art then beside me! Hurrah! She is here,\nflesh, heart, and soul, my sweet friend. Oh! the sweet eyes and lovely\nred lips whence there came never aught but kind words! She saved\nmy life, the dear beloved! Thou shalt play the fife of deliverance\non our ships. Dost thou remember ... but no.... Ours is the present\nhour full of gladness, and mine thy face sweet as June flowers. I am\nin paradise. But,\" said he, \"thou art weeping....\"\n\n\"They have killed her,\" said she.\n\nAnd she told him the tale of mourning.\n\nAnd, looking on one another, they wept with love and grief.\n\nAnd at the feast they drank and ate, and Lamme looked on them woefully,\nsaying:\n\n\"Alas! my wife, where art thou?\"\n\nAnd the priest came and married Nele and Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd the morning sun found them one beside the other in their bridal\nbed.\n\nAnd Nele lay with her head on Ulenspiegel's shoulder. And when she\nawoke in the sunshine, he said:\n\n\"Fresh face and sweet heart, we shall be the avengers of Flanders.\"\n\nShe, kissing him on the mouth:\n\n\"Wild head and stout arms,\" said she, \"God will bless the fife and\nthe sword.\"\n\n\"I will make thee a soldier's garb.\"\n\n\"At once?\" said she.\n\n\"At once,\" replied Ulenspiegel; \"but who said that strawberries are\ngood in the morning? Thy mouth is far better.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nUlenspiegel, Lamme, and Nele had, like their friends and comrades,\ntaken from the convents the wealth gotten from the people by the help\nof processions, feigned miracles, and other Roman mummeries. This\nwas against the orders of the Silent, the prince of liberty, but the\nmoney helped with the charges of the war. Lamme Goedzak, not content\nwith providing himself with money, looted from out the convents hams,\nsausages, flasks of beer and wine, and came back from them joyously\ncarrying across his breast a baldric of fowls, geese, turkeys, capons,\nhens and pullets, and leading behind him on a rope certain monastical\ncalves and pigs. And this by right of war, said he.\n\nRejoicing in each prize, he fetched it to the ship that there might\nbe revel and feast, but lamented all the same that the master cook\nwas so ignorant in the science of sauces and fricassees.\n\nNow on that day the Beggars, having looked victoriously upon the cup,\nsaid to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Thou hast thy nose always in the wind to smell out news of terra\nfirma; thou knowest all the adventures of the war: sing them to\nus. And Lamme shall beat the drum the while and the pretty little\nfifer shall squeal to the measure of thy song.\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel said:\n\n\"One bright cool day in May, Ludwig of Nassau, thinking to enter into\nMons, finds not his footmen nor his horse. A few trusty men held a\ngate open and a drawbridge down, that he might have the town. But the\ncitizens seized the gate and the drawbridge. Where are the soldiers\nof Count Louis? The citizens are about to hoist up the bridge. Count\nLouis winds his horn.\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel sang:\n\n\n    \"Where are thy footmen and thy horse?\n    They are in the woods, treading all down:\n    Dry twigs, and lily of the valley in bloom.\n    Master Sun makes all shine,\n    Their ruddy warrior faces,\n    The polished rumps of their horses;\n    Count Ludwig winds his horn:\n    They hear it. Softly beat the drum.\n\n    \"Full trot, bridle loose!\n    Speed of the lightning, speed of the cloud:\n    Water spout of clinking iron;\n    They fly, the heavy horsemen!\n    Haste! haste! to the rescue!\n    The bridge rises.... Send the spur\n    Into the chargers' bloody flanks.\n    The bridge rises: The town is lost!\n\n    \"They are before it. Is it too late?\n    Ride like the wind! Bridle loose!\n    Guitoy de Chaumont on his Spanish steed\n    Leaps on the bridge that falls again.\n    The town is won! Do ye hear\n    Along the paven streets of Mons\n    Speed of the lightning, speed of the cloud,\n    Waterspout of clinking iron!\n\n    \"Hurrah for Chaumont and his Spanish steed!\n    Sound the clarion of joy, beat upon the drum:\n    'Tis the hay month, fragrant are the meadows;\n    The lark mounts up, singing in the sky:\n    Long live the bird of freedom!\n    Beat upon the drum of glory.\n    Hurrah for Chaumont and the Spanish steed.\n    Hey there. Drink up there.\n    The town is won!... Long live the Beggar!\"\n\n\nAnd the Beggars sang on the ships: \"Christ look down upon thy\nsoldiers. Furbish our weapons, Lord. Long live the Beggar!\"\n\nAnd Nele, smiling, made the fife squeal amain, and Lamme beat the\ndrum, and aloft, towards the sky, God's temple, there were raised\ngolden cups and hymns of liberty. And the waves, like sirens, bright\nand cool about the ships, murmured in harmony.\n\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nOne day in the month of August, a hot and heavy day, Lamme was plunged\nin melancholy. His jolly drum was dumb and sleeping, and he had thrust\nthe drumsticks into the mouth of his satchel. Ulenspiegel and Nele,\nsmiling with amorous delight, were warming themselves in the sun:\nthe look-out men stationed in the tops were whistling or singing,\nsearching over the wide ocean if they could not see some prey on\nthe horizon. Tr\u00e8s-Long kept questioning them; they still replied:\n\"Niets,\" nothing.\n\nAnd Lamme, pale and broken down, sighed piteously. And Nele said\nto him:\n\n\"Whence cometh it, Lamme, that thou art so woebegone?\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel said to him:\n\n\"Thou art growing thin, my son.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Lamme, \"I am woebegone and thin. My heart loses its gaiety\nand my jolly face its freshness. Aye, laugh at me, ye that have found\none another again through a thousand perils. Mock you at poor Lamme,\nwho lives a widower, being married, while she,\" said he, pointing\nto Nele, \"must needs tear her man away from the kisses of the rope,\nhis last lover. She did well, God be praised; but let her not laugh\nat me. Aye, thou must not laugh at poor Lamme, Nele, my dear. My\nwife laughs enough for ten. Alas, ye females, ye are cruel towards\nothers' woes. Aye, I have a grieved heart, stricken with the sword\nof desertion, and nothing will ever comfort it, if not she.\"\n\n\"Or some fricassee,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Aye,\" said Lamme, \"where is the meat in this miserable ship? On the\nking's vessels, they have meat four times a week, if there be no fast,\nand fish three times. As for the fish, God destroy me if this tow--I\nmean their flesh--does anything but kindle my blood for nothing,\nmy poor blood that will go to water before long. They have beer,\ncheese, soup, and good drink. Aye! they have everything for the\ncomfort of their stomachs: biscuit, rye bread, beer, butter, smoked\nmeat, yea, all, dried fish, cheese, mustard seed, salt, beans, peas,\nbarley, vinegar, oil, tallow, wood, and coal. We, we have just been\nforbidden to take the cattle of any so-ever, be he citizen, abbot, or\ngentleman. We eat herrings and drink small beer. Alas! I have nothing\nleft now: neither love of women, nor good wine, nor dobbele-bruinbier,\nnor good food. Where are our joys here?\"\n\n\"I will tell thee, Lamme,\" answered Ulenspiegel. \"Eye for eye, tooth\nfor tooth: at Paris, on Saint Bartholomew's night, they killed ten\nthousand free hearts in Paris city alone; the king himself shot at\nhis folk. Awake, Fleming; seize the axe without mercy: there are our\njoys; smite the Spaniard and Roman enemy wherever thou shalt find\nhim. Let be thy eatables. They have taken the dead or living victims\nto their rivers, and by full cartloads, and have flung them in the\nwater. Dead or alive, dost thou hear, Lamme? The Seine ran red for\nnine days, and the ravens settled down in clouds upon the town. At\nLa Charit\u00e9, at Rouen, Toulouse, Lyons, Bordeaux, Bourges, Meaux,\nterrible was the massacre. Seest thou the troops of dogs satiate with\neating, lying beside the bodies? Their teeth are tired. The flight\nof the ravens is heavy, so laden are their stomachs with the flesh\nof the victims. Hearest thou, Lamme, the voice of their spirits\ncrying vengeance and pity? Awake, Fleming! Thou dost speak of thy\nwife. I do not believe her unfaithful, but bereft of her wits, and\nshe loveth thee still, poor friend of mine: she was not among those\ncourt ladies who on the very night of the massacre stripped the bodies\nwith their fine hands to see how great or how small were their carnal\nmembers. And they laughed, these ladies great in lewdness. Rejoice, my\nson, notwithstanding thy fish and thy small beer. If the after taste\nof the herring is insipid, more insipid still is the smell of this\nfoulness. Those that slew took their meals, and with ill-washen hands\ncarved fat geese to offer the wings, legs, and rump to the charming\nParis damozels. They had but lately felt other meat, cold meat.\"\n\n\"I will complain no more, my son,\" said Lamme, rising up: \"the herring\nis ortolan; malvoisie is small beer to free hearts.\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel said:\n\n\n    \"Long Live the Beggar! Let us not weep, brothers.\n    In ruins and blood\n\n    \"Flowers the rose of liberty.\n    If God is with us, who shall be against?\n\n    \"When the hy\u00e6na triumphs,\n    Comes the lion's turn,\n    With one stroke of his paw he flings him, disbowelled, on the\n    ground.\n    Eye for eye, tooth for tooth. Long live the Beggar!\"\n\n\nAnd the Beggars on the ship sang:\n\n\n    \"The Duke keeps the same fate for us.\n    Eye for eye, tooth for tooth,\n    Wound for wound. Long live the Beggar!\"\n\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nOn a black night the tempest growled in the depths of the\nclouds. Ulenspiegel was on the deck of the ship with Nele, and said:\n\n\"All our lights are out. We are foxes, watching by night for the\npassing of the Spanish poultry, which is to say their two and twenty\nassabres, rich ships with lanterns burning, that will be to them\nstars of ill fortune. And we shall rush upon them.\"\n\nNele said:\n\n\"This night is a witches' night. This sky is black as the mouth of\nhell; these lightnings gleam like the smile of Satan; the distant\nthunderstorm is growling dully; the sea-mews pass, uttering loud cries;\nthe sea rolls its phosphorescent waves like silver serpents. Thyl,\nmy beloved, come into the world of the spirits. Take the powder\nof vision.\"\n\n\"Shall I see the Seven, my darling?\"\n\nAnd they took the powder of vision.\n\nAnd Nele shut Ulenspiegel's eyes, and Ulenspiegel shut Nele's eyes. And\nthey beheld a cruel spectacle.\n\nHeaven, earth, sea were full of men, of women, of children, toiling,\nwandering, journeying, or dreaming. The sea cradled them; the earth\ncarried them. And they swarmed like eels in a basket.\n\nSeven men and women were in the middle of the firmament, seated upon\nthrones, their brows girt with a brilliant star, but they were so\nshadowy that Nele and Ulenspiegel could see only their stars with\nany distinctness.\n\nThe sea rose up to the sky, tumbling in its foam the innumerable\nmultitude of ships whose masts and rigging clashed together,\ninterlocked, broke one another, crushed each other, following the\ntempestuous moving of the waves. Then one ship appeared in the midst\nof all the others. Its bottom was of flaming iron. Its keel was made of\nsteel shaped and sharpened like a knife. The water cried out, groaning,\nwhen it went through. Death was upon the stern of the ship, seated,\ngrinning, holding his scythe in one hand and in the other a whip which\nhe smote upon seven personages. One was a man woebegone, thin, haughty,\nsilent. He held in one hand a sceptre and in the other a sword. Beside\nhim, mounted upon a goat, there was a ruddy girl, with bared breast,\nher robe open, and a sprightly eye. She was stretched out lasciviously\nbeside an old Jew picking up bits of rubbish and a big bloated fellow\nthat fell down every time she set him on his feet, while a thin and\nangry woman beat them both. The big man never avenged himself nor\ndid his red-faced she-companion. A monk in their midst was eating\nsausages. A woman lying on the earth, was crawling like a serpent\namong the others. She bit the old Jew because of his old rubbish,\nthe bloated man because he was too comfortable, the red woman for\nthe dewy brightness of her eyes, the monk for his sausage, and the\nthin man because of his sceptre. And soon all of them fell a-fighting.\n\nWhen they passed, the battle was horrible on the sea, in the sky,\nand on the earth. It rained blood. The ships were broken with blows\nof axes, arquebuses, and cannon shot. The shattered fragments flew\ninto the air in the midst of the powder smoke. On the earth armies\nclashed together like walls of bronze. Towns, villages, harvests\nburned amid cries and tears: tall spires, stone lace-work, held up\ntheir proud silhouettes in the midst of the fire, then fell down\nwith a crash like oak trees laid low. Black horsemen, numerous and\nclose arrayed as bands of ants, sword in hand, pistol in hand, were\nsmiting men, women, children. Some made holes in the ice and buried\nold men alive in them; others cut off women's breasts and sprinkled\npepper on the place; others hanged children in the fireplaces. Those\nwho were tired of killing violated some girl or some woman; drank,\nplayed dice, and tossing over piles of gold, the fruit of pillage,\ndabbled their red fingers in it.\n\nThe Seven, crowned with stars, cried: \"Pity for the poor world!\"\n\nAnd the phantoms grinned with laughter. And their voices were as the\nvoices of a thousand sea-eagles crying together. And Death brandished\nhis scythe.\n\n\"Dost thou hear them?\" said Ulenspiegel; \"they are the birds of prey\nof poor mankind. They live on small birds, which are the simple and\nthe good.\"\n\nThe Seven, crowned with stars, cried: \"Love, justice, compassion!\"\n\nAnd the Seven phantoms laughed loudly. And their voices were like\nthe voices of a thousand sea-eagles crying all together. And Death\nstruck them with his whip.\n\nAnd the ship passed over the sea, cutting in two boats, vessels, men,\nwomen, children. On the sea re\u00ebchoed the plaints of the victims crying:\n\"Pity!\"\n\nAnd the red ship passed over them all, while the phantoms, laughing,\ncried like sea-eagles.\n\nAnd Death, laughing loud, drank the water that was full of blood.\n\nAnd the ship having disappeared in the mist, the battle ceased,\nand the Seven crowned with stars vanished away.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel and Nele saw nothing now save the black sky, the\nsurging sea, the dark clouds coming forward on the phosphorescent sea,\nand close at hand, red stars.\n\nThese were the lanterns of the two and twenty assabres. The sea and\nthe thunder were growling dully and faintly.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel rang the bell for the wacharm softly, and cried:\n\"The Spaniard, the Spaniard! He is sailing for Flessingue!\" And the\ncry was repeated throughout the whole fleet.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel said to Nele:\n\n\"A gray hue is spreading over the sky and over the sea. The lanterns\nburn now but feebly; the dawn lifts, the wind is freshening, the\nwaves throw their spume over the decks of the ships; a thick rain\nis falling and speedily ceases; the sun rises radiant, gilding the\ncrest of the waves: it is thy smile, Nele, fresh as the morning,\nsweet as the sun's ray.\"\n\nThe two and twenty assabres pass: on the ships of the Beggars the\ndrums are beating, the fifes are squealing: de Lumey cries: \"In the\nPrince's name, to the chase!\" Ewout Pietersen Wort, sub-admiral,\ncries: \"In the name of Monseigneur d'Orange and the admiral, to the\nchase!\" On all the ships, the Johannah, the Swan, Anne-Mie, the Beggar,\nthe Compromise, the d'Egmont, the de Hoorn, on the Willem de Zwyger\n(the William the Silent,) all the captains cry: \"In the name of\nMonseigneur d'Orange and the admiral!\"\n\n\"To the chase! Long live the Beggar!\" cry the soldiers and\nsailors. Tr\u00e8s-Long's houlque, on which are Lamme and Ulenspiegel,\nand called Briele, followed closely by the Johannah, the Swan, and\nthe Beggar, take four assabres. The Beggars fling everything Spanish\ninto the sea, make the inhabitants of the Low Countries prisoners,\nempty the ships like eggshells, and leave them to float without masts\nor sails in the roadstead. Then they pursue the other eighteen. The\nwind blows violently; coming from Antwerp, the sides of the swift\nships bend over in the water of the river beneath the weight of\nthe sails swollen like a monk's cheeks in the wind that comes from\nkitchens; the assabres go swiftly; the Beggars pursue them into the\nvery roadstead of Meddleburg under the fire from the forts. There a\nbloody battle joins: the Beggars carrying axes rush on the decks of\nthe ships, soon strewn with lopped-off arms and legs, that have to be\nthrown into the waves after the combat ends. The forts fire on them:\nthey take no heed, and to the shout of \"Long live the Beggar!\" take\nfrom out the assabres powder, artillery, bullets, and corn; burn\nthe boats when they have emptied them; and make off to Flessingue,\nleaving them smoking and flaming in the roadsteads.\n\nFrom there they will send squadrons to pierce the dykes of Zealand and\nHolland, to help in the construction of fresh ships, and notably of\nflyboats of one hundred and forty tons carrying up to twenty cannon\nof cast iron.\n\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nOn the ships it is snowing. The air is all white as far as eye can\nsee, and the snow falls without ceasing, falls softly upon the black\nwater where it melts.\n\nOn the earth it is snowing: all white are the roadways, all white\nthe black silhouettes of the trees bereft of their leaves. No sound\nbut the distant bells of Haarlem striking the hour, and the gay chime\nsending its muffled notes through the thick air.\n\nBells, ring not; bells, play not your sweet and simple airs: Don\nFrederic draws near, the dukeling of blood. He is marching upon thee,\nfollowed by thirty-five companies of Spaniards, thy mortal foes,\nHaarlem, O thou city of liberty; twenty-two companies of Walloons,\neighteen companies of Germans, eight hundred horse, a powerful\nartillery, all follow in his train. Hearest thou the clang of this\nmurderous iron on the wagons? Falconets, culverins, big-mouthed\nmortars, all that is for thee, Haarlem. Bells, ring not; chimes,\nfling not your gladsome notes into the air thickened with snow.\n\n\"Bells, we the bells, shall ring; I, the chime, I shall sing, flinging\nmy bold notes into the air thick with snow. Haarlem is the town of\nhardy hearts, of brave women. Undaunted she sees, from her topmost\ntowers, the black masses of the butchers undulating like troops of\nants: Ulenspiegel, Lamme, and a hundred sea Beggars are within her\nwalls. Their fleet is cruising in the lake.\"\n\n\"Let them come!\" say the inhabitants; \"we are but citizens, fishermen,\nsailors, and women.\n\n\"The son of the Duke of Alba wanteth, he declares, no other keys to\ncome into our house than his cannon. Let him open, if he can, these\nweak gates; he will find men behind them. Ring out, bells; chimes,\nlaunch your glad notes into the air thick with snow.\n\n\"We have but weak walls and old-fashioned ditches. Fourteen guns\nbelch out their balls of forty-six pound on the Cruys-poort. Put men\nwhere stones are lacking. Night comes, every man toileth, it is as\nthough the cannon had never been there. On the Cruys-poort they have\nhurled six hundred and eighty shot; on St. John's Gate six hundred\nand seventy-five. These keys do not open, for there, behind, rises\na new rampart. Ring out, bells; chimes, hurl into the thick air your\nmerry notes.\n\n\"The cannon beat, beat, beat ever on the walls; the stones fly, the\nwalls crumble. Wide enough is the breech to let a company pass in\nabreast. The assault! 'Kill! Kill!' they cry. They mount, they are\nten thousand; suffer them to pass the moats with their bridges, with\ntheir ladders. Our cannon are ready. Lo, there the flag of those that\nare to die. Salute them, cannon of liberty! They salute: chain shot,\nballs of flaming tar flying and hissing, pierce, cut, kindle, blind\nthe assailing masses that fall back and flee in disorder. Fifteen\nhundred dead lie in the ditch. Ring out, bells; and ye, chimes,\nfling into the thickened air your merry notes.\n\n\"Come back to the assault! They dare not. They fall to shooting\nand sapping. We, too, we know the arts of the mine. Beneath them,\nbeneath them light the train; run, we shall see a goodly sight. Four\nhundred Spaniards blown into the air. This is not the road of eternal\nfires. Oh! the goodly dance to the silver sound of our bells, to the\nmerry music of our chimes!\n\n\"They never suspect that the prince is watching over us; that every day\nthere come to us by ways well guarded sledges of corn and gunpowder;\nthe corn for us, the powder for them. Where are their six hundred\nGermans that we slew and drowned in the Haarlem Wood? Where are the\neleven ensigns we have taken from them, the six pieces of artillery,\nand the fifty oxen? We had one girdle of walls; now we have two. Even\nthe women fight, and Kennan leads their valiant band. Come, butchers,\nmarch down our streets; the children will hamstring you with their\nlittle knives. Ring out, bells; and ye, chimes, fling into the\nthickened air your merry notes!\n\n\"But fortune is not with us. The Beggars' fleet is beaten in the\nlake. They are beaten, the troops Orange had sent to our help. It\nfreezes, it freezes bitterly. No more help now. Then for five months,\na thousand against ten thousand, we hold out. Now we must needs\ncome to terms with the butchers. Will he listen to any terms, this\nbloody dukeling who hath sworn our destruction? Let us send out all\nour soldiers with their arms: they will pierce the enemy bands. But\nthe women are at the gates, fearing lest they be left to guard the\ntown alone. Bells, ring out no more; chimes, fling no more into the\nair your merry notes.\n\n\"Here is June; the hay is fragrant, the corn grows golden in the sun,\nthe birds are singing: we have been hungry for five months; the town\nis in mourning; we shall all go forth from Haarlem, the musketeers at\nthe head to open up the way, the women, the children, the magistrates\nbehind, guarded by the infantry that watches at the breech. A letter,\na letter from the dukeling of blood! Is it death he announces? Nay,\nit is life to all that are in the town. O unlooked-for clemency; O\nlie, mayhap! Wilt thou still sing, O merry chime? They are entering\nthe town.\"\n\nUlenspiegel, Lamme, and Nele had donned the costume of the German\nsoldiers shut up with them, to the number of six hundred, in the\ncloister of the Augustines.\n\n\"We shall die to-day,\" said Ulenspiegel in a low tone to Lamme.\n\nAnd he clasped to his breast the dainty form of Nele all shivering\nwith fear.\n\n\"Alas! my wife, I shall never see her more,\" said Lamme. \"But perhaps\nour costume as German soldiers will save our lives?\"\n\nUlenspiegel nodded his head to show he believed in no hope of grace.\n\n\"I hear no noise of pillage,\" said Lamme.\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"By the terms, the townsfolk redeemed their lives, and the town from\npillage, for the sum of two hundred and forty thousand florins. They\nmust pay one hundred thousand florins down in twelve days, and the rest\nthree months after. The women have been ordered to retire into the\nchurches. They are about to begin the massacre, beyond a doubt. Dost\nthou hear them nailing up the scaffolds and erecting the gallows?\"\n\n\"Ah! we are to die!\" said Nele; \"I am hungry.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Lamme low to Ulenspiegel, \"the dukeling of blood has said\nthat being famished we shall be more docile when we are brought out\nto die.\"\n\n\"I am so hungry!\" said Nele.\n\nThat night soldiers came and distributed bread enough for six men.\n\n\"Three hundred Walloon soldiers have been hanged in the marketplace,\"\nsaid they. \"It will soon be your turn. There was always a matrimony\nbetween the Beggars and the Gallows.\"\n\nThe next night they came again with their bread for six men.\n\n\"Four high burgesses,\" said they, \"have been beheaded. Two hundred\nand forty-nine soldiers have been bound together two by two and cast\ninto the sea. The crabs will be fat this year. You do not look well,\nyou folk, since the seventh of July that saw you come here. They\nare gluttons and drunkards, these dwellers in the Low Countries;\nwe Spaniards, we have enough with two figs for our supper.\"\n\n\"That is why, then,\" replied Ulenspiegel, \"you must needs, everywhere\nin the townsfolks' houses, have four meals of meats, poultry, creams,\nwines, and preserves; that ye must have milk to wash the bodies of\nyour mustachos and wine to bathe your horses' feet?\"\n\nOn the eighteenth of July, Nele said:\n\n\"My feet are wet; what is this?\"\n\n\"Blood,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nAt night the soldiers came again with their bread for six.\n\n\"Where the rope is no longer enough,\" said they, \"the sword does the\nwork. Three hundred soldiers and twenty-seven burghers who tried to\nflee out of the town are now walking about the streets of hell with\ntheir heads in their hands.\"\n\nThe next day the blood came again into the cloister; the soldiers\ncame not to bring the bread, but merely to contemplate the prisoners,\nsaying:\n\n\"The five hundred Walloons, Englishmen, and Scotsmen that were\nbeheaded yesterday looked better. These are hungry, no doubt, but\nwho then should die of hunger if not the Beggar!\"\n\nAnd indeed, they were like phantoms, all pale, haggard, broken,\ntrembling with cold ague.\n\nOn the sixteenth of August, at five in the evening, the soldiers came\nin laughing and gave them bread, cheese, and beer. Lamme said:\n\n\"It is the feast of death.\"\n\nAt ten o'clock four companies came; the captains had the doors of the\ncloister opened, ordering the prisoners to march four abreast behind\nfifes and drums, to the place where they would be told to halt. Certain\nstreets were red, and they marched towards the Gallows Field.\n\nHere and there shallow pools of blood defiled the meadows; there was\nblood all about the walls. The ravens came in clouds on every hand;\nthe sun hid in a bed of mists; the sky was still clear, and in its\ndepths awoke the shy stars. Suddenly they heard lamentable howlings.\n\nThe soldiers said:\n\n\"They that are crying there are the Beggars of the Fuycke Fort,\nwithout the town; they are being left to die of hunger.\"\n\n\"We, too,\" said Nele, \"we are going to die.\" And she wept.\n\n\"The ashes beat upon my heart,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Ah!\" said Lamme in Flemish--for the soldiers of the escort understood\nnot that proud speech--\"Ah!\" said Lamme, \"if I could catch that\nduke of blood and make him eat, until his skin burst, each and all\nropes, gallows, torture benches, wooden horses, weights, and boots;\nif I could make him drink the blood he has shed, if there came out\nof his torn skin and opened bowels splinters of wood and pieces of\niron, and still he did not give up the ghost, I would tear out his\nheart from his breast and make him eat it raw and poisoned. Then for\ncertain would he fall from life to death into the sulphur pit, where\nmay the devil make him eat it and eat it again without ceasing. And\nthus through all long eternity.\"\n\n\"Amen,\" said Ulenspiegel and Nele.\n\n\"But dost thou see naught?\" said she.\n\n\"Nay,\" said he.\n\n\"I see in the west,\" she said, \"five men and two women seated in a\ncircle. One is clad in purple and wears a crown of gold. He seems\nthe chief over the rest, all ragged and tattered. I see from the east\nanother band of seven coming: one commands them also who is clad in\npurple, without a crown. And they come against those of the west. And\nthey fight against them in the clouds, but I see nothing more now.\"\n\n\"The Seven,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"I hear,\" said Nele, \"near by us in the foliage, a voice like a breath\nof wind saying:\n\n\n            \"By war and fire\n            By pikes and swords\n                Seek;\n            In death and blood\n            Ruins and tears.\n                Find.\"\n\n\n\"Others than we shall deliver the land of Flanders,\" replied\nUlenspiegel. \"Night grows black, the soldiers are lighting torches. We\nare near the Gallows Field. O sweet beloved, why didst thou follow\nme? Dost thou hear nothing more, Nele?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said she, \"a noise of arms among the corn. And there, above\nthat ridge, surmounting the way in which we are entering, seest thou\nthe red light of the torches gleam upon steel? I see sparks of fire\ngleaming upon the matches of arquebuses. Are our guardians asleep,\nor are they blind? Dost thou hear that clap of thunder? Seest thou\nthe Spaniards fall pierced with bullets? Hearest thou 'Long live the\nBeggar!'? They climb the path running, musket in hand; they come down\nwith axes all along the slope. Long live the Beggar!\"\n\n\"Long live the Beggar!\" cry Lamme and Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Lo,\" said Nele, \"here are soldiers that give us arms. Take, Lamme,\ntake, my beloved. Long live the Beggar!\"\n\n\"Long live the Beggar!\" cry the whole troop of prisoners.\n\n\"The arquebuses cease not from firing,\" said Nele, \"they fall like\nflies, lit up as they are by the light of the torches. Long live\nthe Beggars!\"\n\n\"Long live the Beggar!\" cry the band of rescuers.\n\n\"Long live the Beggar!\" cry Ulenspiegel and the prisoners. \"The\nSpaniards are in a ring of fire. Kill! kill! There is not one left\non his feet. Kill! no pity, war without mercy. And now let us be off\nand run to Enckhuyse. Who hath the butchers' clothes of cloth and\nsilk? Who hath their weapons?\"\n\n\"All! all!\" they cry. \"Long live the Beggar!\"\n\nAnd indeed, they went off for Enckhuyse by boat, and there the Germans\ndelivered with them remained to guard the town.\n\nAnd Lamme, Nele, and Ulenspiegel found their ships again. And lo once\nmore they are singing upon the free sea: \"Long live the Beggar!\"\n\nAnd they cruise in the roadstead of Flessingue.\n\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nThere once again was Lamme joyous. He was always ready to go on shore,\nhunting oxen, sheep, and fowl like hares, stags, and ortolans.\n\nAnd he was not alone in this nourishing hunting. Good was it then to\nsee the huntsmen return, Lamme at their head, dragging the big beasts\nby the horns, driving the small cattle before them, directing flocks\nof geese with long wands, and carrying slung from their boathooks hens,\npullets, and capons in spite of their struggling.\n\nThen it was revel and feasting on the ships. And Lamme would say:\n\"The fragrance of the sauces mounts up to the very sky, there\ndelighting their worships the angels, which say: ''Tis the best part\nof the meat'.\"\n\nWhile they were cruising there came a fleet of merchantmen from Lisbon,\nwhose commander knew not that Flessingue had fallen into the hands of\nthe Beggars. It is ordered to cast anchor; it is hemmed round. Long\nlive the Beggar! Drums and fifes sound the signal for boarding;\nthe merchants have guns, pikes, hatchets, arquebuses.\n\nMusket balls and cannon balls rain from the ships of the Beggars. Their\nmusketeers, entrenched round about the main mast in their wooden\nforts, fire with deadly aim, without any danger. The merchants fall\nlike flies.\n\n\"To the rescue!\" said Ulenspiegel to Lamme and to Nele, \"to the\nrescue! Here be spices, knicknacks, precious dainties, sugar,\nnutmegs, cloves, ginger, reals, ducats, moutons d'or all bright\nand shining. There are more than five hundred thousand pieces in\ncoin. The Spaniard will pay the cost of the war. Drink ho! Let us\nsing the Beggars' Mass, which is battle!\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel and Lamme rushed everywhere like lions. Nele played the\nfife, sheltered in the wooden castle. The whole of the fleet was taken.\n\nThe dead were counted and these were a thousand on the side of the\nSpaniards, three hundred on the side of the Beggars: among them was\nthe master cook of the fly boat La Briele.\n\nUlenspiegel asked to be allowed to speak before Tr\u00e8s-Long and the\nsailors: this Tr\u00e8s-Long granted with a good will. And he said to them\nas follows:\n\n\"Master captain and ye comrades, we have but now inherited much spices,\nand here is Lamme, the good belly, who findeth that the poor dead\nman there, God have him in joy, was in no wise a doctor great enough\nin fricassees. Let us name him in the place of the dead. And he will\nprepare you divine stews and paradisaic soups.\"\n\n\"We will,\" said Tr\u00e8s-Long and the others; \"Lamme shall be the master\ncook of the ship. He shall bear the great wooden ladle to skim the\nfroth off his sauces.\"\n\n\"Messire Captain, comrades and friends,\" said Lamme, \"ye behold me\nweeping with joy, for I deserve not so great honour. Nevertheless,\nsince ye deign to call upon my worthlessness, I accept the noble\nfunctions of master of arts in fricassees upon the stout fly boat La\nBriele, but with a humble prayer to you that ye invest me with the\nsupreme command of the kitchen work, in such fashion that your master\ncook--the which will be myself--may by right law and might be empowered\nto prevent anyonesoever from coming and eating another's share.\"\n\nTr\u00e8s-Long and the others cried out:\n\n\"Long live Lamme! thou shalt have right, law, and might.\"\n\n\"But,\" said he, \"I have another prayer to make before you in all\nhumility: I am a fat man, big and strong; deep is my paunch, deep my\nstomach; my poor wife--may God restore her to me--always gave me two\nportions instead of one: accord me this same favour.\"\n\nTr\u00e8s-Long, Ulenspiegel, and the sailors said:\n\n\"Thou shalt have the two portions, Lamme.\"\n\nAnd Lamme, suddenly fallen melancholy, said:\n\n\"My wife, my sweet darling! if anything can console me for thy absence,\nit will be to bring again to mind in my duties thy heavenly cooking\nin our sweet home.\"\n\n\"You must take the oath, my son,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"Let the great\nwooden ladle and the great copper caldron be brought hither.\"\n\n\"I swear,\" quoth Lamme, \"by God, may he be here my helper, I swear\nfidelity to Monseigneur the Prince of Orange, called the Silent,\ngoverning the provinces of Holland and Zealand for the king; fidelity\nto Messire de Lumey, the admiral commanding our gallant fleet, and\nto Messire Tr\u00e8s-Long, vice-admiral and captain of the good ship La\nBriele; I swear to dress at my poor best, according to the use and\nwont of the great cooks of old, which have left behind them noble\nbooks with cuts upon the great art of cookery, what flesh and fowl\nFortune shall accord to us; I swear to feed the said Messire Tr\u00e8s-Long,\nour captain, his second in command, which is my friend, Ulenspiegel,\nand all you, master mariner, pilot, boatswain, companions, soldiers,\ngunners, captain's page, chirurgeon, trumpeteer, sailors, and all\nothers. If the roast is too underdone, the fowl unbrowned; if the\nsoup sends up an insipid fragrance, inimical to all good digestion;\nif the steam of the sauces doth not entice you all to rush into the\nkitchen--always with my good will; if I make you not all sprightly\nand well favoured, I will resign my noble functions, judging myself\nunfit longer to occupy the throne of the kitchen. So may God help me\nin this life and in the next.\"\n\n\"Long live the master cook,\" said they, \"the king of the kitchen,\nthe emperor of fricassees. He shall have three portions instead of\ntwo on Sundays.\"\n\nAnd Lamme became master cook of the ship La Briele. And while the\nsucculent soups were simmering in the saucepans, he stood at the door\nof the galley, proudly holding his great wooden ladle like a sceptre.\n\nAnd he had his treble rations on Sundays.\n\nWhen the Beggars came to grips with the enemy, he would stay preferably\nin his sauce laboratory but would come out every now and then to run\nup on the deck and fire a few rounds. Then he would hurry down again\nat once to keep an eye to his sauces.\n\nThus being trusty cook and valiant soldier, he was well beloved of all.\n\nBut no one must penetrate the sanctuary of his galley. For then he was\neven like a devil and with his wooden ladle he smote them pitilessly\nhip and thigh.\n\nAnd thenceforth he was called Lamme the Lion.\n\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\nOn the ocean, on the Scheldt, in sunshine, in rain, in snow, in hail,\nwinter and summer, glided the ships of the Beggars to and fro.\n\nAll sails out like mantling swans, swans of white freedom.\n\nWhite for freedom, blue for great heart, orange for the prince,\n'tis the standard of the proud ships.\n\nAll sails set! all sails set, the stout ships; the billows beat upon\nthem, the waves besprinkle them with foam.\n\nThey pass, they run, they fly along the river, their sails in the\nwater, swift as clouds in the north wind, the proud ships of the\nBeggars. Hear you their prows cleaving the wave? God of freemen! Long\nlive the Beggar!\n\nHulks, flyboats, boyers, croust\u00e8ves, swift as a wind big with tempest,\nlike the cloud that bears the thunderbolt. Long live the Beggar!\n\nBoyers and croust\u00e8ves, flat-bottomed boats, slide along the river. The\nwaters groan as they are cloven through, when the ships go straight\non face forwards with the deadly mouth of their long culverin on the\npoint of the bows. Long live the Beggar!\n\nAll sail out! all sail out, the gallant ships, the waves toss them,\nsprinkle them with foam.\n\nNight and day, through rain, hail, and snow, they go on their\nway! Christ smileth on them in cloud, in sun, in starshine. Long live\nthe Beggar.\n\n\n\n\n\nXV\n\nThe king of blood learned the news of their victories. Death was\nalready gnawing at the murderer and his body was full of worms. He\nwould walk about the corridors of Valladolid, sullen and savage,\ndragging heavily his swollen feet and leaden legs. He never sang,\nthe cruel tyrant; when the day came, he never laughed, and when the\nsun lighted up his empire like a smile from God he felt no joy in\nhis heart.\n\nBut Ulenspiegel, Lamme, and Nele sang like birds, risking their hide,\nthat is to say Lamme and Ulenspiegel, their white skin, to wit Nele,\nliving from day to day, and finding more joy in one death fire quenched\nby the Beggars than the dark king had in the burning of a town.\n\nAt this time, too, William the Silent, Prince of Orange, broke from\nhis rank as admiral Messire de Lumey de la Marck, by reason of his\ngreat cruelties. He appointed Messire Bouwen Ewoutsen Worst in his\nstead. He took measures also to pay for the grain taken by the Beggars\nfrom the peasants, to restore the forced contributions levied upon\nthem, and to grant the Roman Catholics, like all others, the free\nexercise of their religion, without either persecution or insult.\n\n\n\n\n\nXVI\n\nOn the ships of the Beggars, under the dazzling sky, over the shining\nwaves, squealed the fifes; droned bagpipes, gurgled flasks, chimed\nglasses, and shone the steel of weapons and armour.\n\n\"Ho!\" said Ulenspiegel, \"let us beat the drum of glory, let us beat\nthe drum of joy. Long live the Beggar! Spain is conquered; the ghoul is\nbeaten down. Ours is the sea, Briele is taken. Ours the coast as far as\nNieuport, beyond Ostende and Blanckenberghe, the islands of Zealand,\nthe mouths of the Scheldt, the mouths of the Meuse, the Rhine mouths\nas far as Helder. Ours are Texel, Vlieland, Ter-Schelling, Ameland,\nRottum, Borkum. Long live the Beggar!\n\n\"Ours are Delft, and Dordrecht. 'Tis a trail of powder. God holdeth\nthe linstock. The murderers abandon Rotterdam. Free conscience, like\na lion with teeth and claws of justice, seizes the county of Zutphen,\nthe towns of Deutecom, Doesburg, Goor, Oldenzeel, and on the Welnuire,\nHattem, Elburg, and Harderwyck. Long live the Beggar!\n\n\"'Tis lightning, 'tis a thunder bolt: Campen, Zwol, Hassel, Sheenwyck\nfall into our hands with Oudewater, Gouda, Leyden. Long live the\nBeggar!\n\n\"Ours are Bueren, Enckhuyse! Not yet have we Amsterdam, Schoonhoven,\nor Middelburg. But all cometh in time to patient blades. Long live\nthe Beggar!\n\n\"Drink we the wine of Spain. Drink from the chalices whence they\ndrank the blood of the victims. We shall go by way of the Zuyderzee,\nby rivers, streams, canals; we have North Holland, South Holland,\nand Zealand; we shall take East and West Frisia; La Briele shall\nbe the refuge for our ships, the nest of the hens that hatch out\nliberty. Long live the Beggar!\n\n\"Hearken in Flanders, our beloved land, how there bursts forth the\ncry of avenging. Armour is polishing, the swords are a-whetting. All\nare astir, athrill like the strings of a harp in the warm breeze,\nthe breath souls that cometh from grave pits, from torture fires,\nfrom the bleeding corpses of the victims. All, Hainaut, Brabant,\nLuxembourg, Namur, Li\u00e9ge the free city, all! Blood sprouts and springs\nup. The harvest is ripe for the sickle. Long live the Beggar.\n\n\"Ours the Noord-Zee, the wide North Sea. Ours are good guns,\nproud ships, the bold band of redoubted seamen: rogues, robbers,\nsoldier-priests, gentlemen, townsfolk, and artisans fleeing\npersecution. Ours to all of us joined together for the work of\nfreedom! Long live the Beggar!\n\n\"Philip, king of blood, where art thou? D'Alba, where art thou? Thou\ndost cry out and curse and blaspheme, thou with the holy hat, the Holy\nFather's gift. Beat the drums of joy. Long live the Beggar! Drink all!\n\n\"The wine flows into the golden cups. Drain it with glee. Priestly\nrobes on the backs of rough men are flooded with the red liquor;\nbanners, ecclesiastic and Roman, wave in the wind. Eternal music! To\nyou, fifes squealing, bagpipes droning, drums beating, peals of\nglory. Long live the Beggar!\"\n\n\n\n\n\nXVII\n\nThe world was then in the wolf month, which is the month of December. A\nthin sharp rain was falling like needles upon the sea. The Beggars\nwere cruising in the Zuyderzee. Messire the Admiral summoned by\ntrumpet the captains of houlques and flyboats on board his ship,\nand with them Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Now,\" said the Admiral, addressing himself first of all to\nUlenspiegel, \"the Prince is minded to recognize thy good devoirs\nand trusty services, and names thee as captain of the ship La\nBriele. Herewith I hand thee the commission engrossed upon parchment.\"\n\n\"All thanks to you, Messire Admiral,\" replied Ulenspiegel: \"I shall\nbe captain with all my little power, and thus captaining I have great\nhope, if God help me, to uncaptain Spain from the lands of Flanders\nand Holland: I mean from the Zuid and the Noord-Neerlande.\"\n\n\"That is well,\" said the admiral. \"And now,\" he added, speaking to\nthem all, \"I will tell you that the folk of Catholic Amsterdam are\ngoing to besiege Enckhuyse. They have not yet come out from the Y\ncanal; let us cruise about in front that they may stay inside there\nand fall on each and all of their ships that may show their tyrannical\ncarcases in the Zuyderzee.\"\n\nThey made answer:\n\n\"We will knock holes in them. Long live the Beggar!\"\n\nUlenspiegel, returned to his ship, called his soldiers and his sailors\ntogether on the deck, and told them what the admiral had decided.\n\nThey replied:\n\n\"We have wings, the which are our sails; skates, which are the keels of\nour ships; and giant hands, which are the grapples for boarding. Long\nlive the Beggar!\"\n\nThe fleet set forth and cruised in front of Amsterdam a sea league\naway, in such a sort that none could enter or come out against\ntheir will.\n\nOn the fifth day the rain ceased; the wind blew sharper in the clear\nsky; the Amsterdam folk made no stir.\n\nSuddenly Ulenspiegel saw Lamme come up on deck, driving before him\nwith great blows of his wooden ladle the ship's truxman, a young man\nskilful in the French and Flemish tongues, but more skilful still in\nthe science of the teeth.\n\n\"Good-for-naught,\" said Lamme, beating him, \"didst thou deem thou\ncouldst scatheless eat my fricassees before their due time? Go up to\nthe masthead and see if aught budges on the ships of Amsterdam. Doing\nthis thou wilt do well.\"\n\nBut the truxman answered:\n\n\"What will you give me?\"\n\n\"Dost thou think,\" said Lamme, \"to be paid without doing the\nwork? Thieves' spawn, if thou dost not climb, I shall have thee\nflogged. And thy French shall not save thee.\"\n\n\"'Tis a beauteous tongue,\" said the truxman, \"a tongue for love\nand war.\"\n\nAnd he climbed the mast.\n\n\"Well! lazybones?\" asked Lamme.\n\nThe truxman answered:\n\n\"I see naught in the town nor on the ships.\" And descending:\n\n\"Now pay me,\" said he.\n\n\"Keep what thou hast stolen,\" replied Lamme; \"but such gains are no\nprofit; thou wilt doubtless vomit it up.\"\n\nThe truxman, climbing again to the masthead, cried out suddenly:\n\n\"Lamme! Lamme! there is a thief going into the galley.\"\n\n\"I have the key in my pouch,\" rejoined Lamme.\n\nUlenspiegel then, taking Lamme apart, said to him:\n\n\"My son, this great tranquillity of Amsterdam affrights me. They have\nsome hidden project.\"\n\n\"I thought of that,\" said Lamme. \"The water is freezing in the jugs in\nthe cupboard; the fowl are like wood; hoar frost whitens the sausages;\nthe butter is a stone, the oil is all white, the salt is dry as sand\nin the sun.\"\n\n\"'Tis a frost at hand,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"They will come in great\nnumbers to attack us with artillery.\"\n\nGoing on board the admiral's ship, he told his fear to the admiral,\nwho answered him:\n\n\"The wind blows from England: there will be snow, but it will not\nfreeze: go back to your ship.\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel went away.\n\nThat night heavy snow fell; but soon, the wind blowing out of Norway,\nthe sea froze and was like a floor. The admiral beheld the sight.\n\nThen fearing lest the Amsterdam folk might come over the ice to burn\nthe ships, he bade the soldiers make ready their skates, in case they\nmight have to fight around and away from the ships, and the gunners\nof the iron guns and the brass to pile up heaps of cannon-balls by\nthe gun carriages, to load the pieces, and to keep the portfires\nalways well lighted.\n\nBut the Amsterdam folk never came.\n\nAnd so it was for seven days.\n\nTowards evening on the eighth day Ulenspiegel gave orders that a good\nfeast should be served to the sailors and men at arms, to make them\na cuirass against the sharp wind that was blowing.\n\nBut Lamme said:\n\n\"There is nothing at all left now but biscuit and small beer.\"\n\n\"Long live the Beggar!\" said they. \"'Twill be Lenten revelry until\nthe hour of battle.\"\n\n\"Which will not strike soon,\" said Lamme. \"The Amsterdammers will\ncome to burn us our ships, but not on this night. First they must\nneeds assemble themselves together around fires, and there drink\nmany a measure of wine mulled with Madeira sugar--may God give us\nthereof--then having talked till midnight with patience, logic, and\nfull stoups, they will decide that there are grounds for coming to a\ndecision to-morrow as to whether they shall attack or not attack next\nweek. To-morrow, again drinking wine mulled with Madeira sugar--may\nGod give you thereof--they will decide anew with calm, patience,\nand full stoups, that they must assemble together another day, to\nthe end that they may know if the ice can or cannot bear a great band\nof men. And they will have it proved and essayed by men of learning,\nwho will lay down their conclusions upon parchment. Having received\nwhich, they will know that the ice is half an ell in thickness,\nand that it is solid enough to bear some hundreds of men with field\nguns and artillery. Then assembling themselves together once more\nto deliberate with calm, patience, and many stoups of mulled wine,\nthey will debate whether, by reason of the treasure seized by us\nfrom the men of Lisbon, it is more suitable to assault or to burn\nour ships. And being thus perplexed, but temporizers, they will\nnone the less decide that they must capture and not burn our ships,\nnotwithstanding the great wrong and hurt they would do us by that.\"\n\n\"You say well,\" replied Ulenspiegel; \"but see you not those fires\nkindle up within the town, and folk bearing lanterns running busily\nabout there?\"\n\n\"'Tis because they are cold,\" said Lamme.\n\nAnd he added, sighing:\n\n\"Everything is eaten. No more beef, pork, nor poultry; no more wine,\nalas! nor good dobbel-bier, nothing but biscuit and small beer. Let\nwho loves me follow me!\"\n\n\"Whither goest thou?\" said Ulenspiegel. \"No man may go from the ship.\"\n\n\"My son,\" said Lamme, \"thou art captain and master as now. I will\nnever go from the ship if thou dost forbid it. Yet deign to consider\nthat we ate the last of our sausage on the day before yesterday:\nand that in this stern weather the fire of the kitchen is the sun of\ngood companions. Who would not fain smell here the odour of sauces;\nsniff up the fragrant bouquet of the divine drink made of those\njoyous blossoms that are gaiety, laughter, and good will to every\nman? And so, captain and trusty friend, I dare say this: I devour\nmy very soul, since I eat naught, I who, though loving but repose,\nnever slaying by my will, save it were a tender goose, a fat chicken,\na succulent turkey, follow thee amid fatigue and battles. See from\nhere the lights in that rich farm well furnished of big and little\ncattle. Knowest thou who it is that dwelleth there? It is the boatman\nof Frisia, that betrayed Messire Dandelot and furthermore brought to\nEnckhuyse, while it was still in D'Alba's hand, eighteen poor lords\nour friends, the which, of his doing, were beheaded on the Horse\nMarket at Brussels. This traitor, who hath to name Slosse, got from\nthe duke two thousand florins for his treachery. With the price of\nthat blood, a very Judas, he purchased the farm thou seest there,\nand his great cattle and the fields around about, which bearing fruit\nand increasing, I mean land and herds, make him rich as now.\"\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"The ashes beat upon my heart. Thou makest the hour of God to strike.\"\n\n\"And,\" said Lamme, \"the hour of food in like wise. Give me twenty lads,\nvaliant soldiers and sailors; I will go and seek out the traitor.\"\n\n\"I will be their leader,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"Who loves justice\nlet him follow me. Not all of you, dear friends and trusty; there\nmust be twenty only, else who would keep the ship? Draw lots by the\ndice. Ye are twenty, come. The dice speak well. Put your skates on\nyour feet and glide towards the star of Venus burning bright above\nthe treachour's farm.\n\n\"Guiding yourselves by the clear beam, come, ye twenty, skating and\nsliding, axe on shoulder.\n\n\"The wind whistles and drives white whirls of snow before it on the\nice. Come, brave men!\n\n\"Ye sing not, nor speak; ye go straight on, in silence, towards the\nstar; your skates make the ice complain.\n\n\"He that falls picks himself up at once. We touch the shore; no\nhuman shape on the white snow, not a bird in the icy air. Take off\nthe skates from your feet.\n\n\"Here we are on land; here are the meadows; put on your skates\nagain. We are round about the farm, holding our breath.\"\n\nUlenspiegel knocks on the door; dogs bark. He knocks again, a window\nopens and the baes says, sticking out his head:\n\n\"Who art thou?\"\n\nHe sees but Ulenspiegel only: the others are concealed behind the keet,\nwhich is the washhouse.\n\nUlenspiegel makes answer:\n\n\"Messire de Boussu bids thee betake thee to him at Amsterdam upon\nthe instant.\"\n\n\"Where is thy safe-conduct?\" said the man, coming down and opening\nthe door to him.\n\n\"Here,\" replied Ulenspiegel, showing him the twenty Beggars who hurl\nthemselves behind him into the opening.\n\nUlenspiegel then says to him:\n\n\"Thou art Slosse, the traitor boatman that brought into an ambuscade\nMessires Dandelot, de Battenberg, and other lords. Where is the price\nof their blood?\"\n\nThe farmer replies, trembling:\n\n\"Ye are the Beggars; grant me a pardon; I knew not what I did. I have\nno money here within; I will give all I have.\"\n\nLamme said:\n\n\"It is black dark; give us candles of tallow or of wax.\"\n\nThe baes replies:\n\n\"The tallow candles are hanging there.\"\n\nA candle being lit, said one of the Beggars, in the hearthplace:\n\n\"It is cold; let us kindle a fire. Here are proper faggots.\"\n\nAnd he pointed out upon a shelf flower pots in which withered and\ndried plants might be seen.\n\nHe took one by the stalk and shaking it with the pot, the pot fell,\nscattering over the ground ducats, florins, and reals.\n\n\"There is the treasure,\" said he, pointing to the other flower pots.\n\nIn very deed, having emptied them, they found ten thousand florins.\n\nSeeing which, the baes cried out and wept.\n\nThe farm servants, both men and maids, came to the cries, in shirts\nand smocks. The men wishing to avenge their master, were bound. Soon\nthe shamefaced women, and especially the younger, hid behind the men.\n\nThen Lamme went forward and said:\n\n\"Traitor farmer, where are the keys of the cellar, the stables,\nthe cowshed, and the sheep-pens?\"\n\n\"Infamous pillagers,\" said the baes, \"ye shall be hanged until ye\nare dead.\"\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"It is the hour of God; give up the keys!\"\n\n\"God will avenge me,\" said the baes, handing them over to him.\n\nHaving emptied the farm, the Beggars departed skating towards the\nships, those light dwelling places of freedom.\n\n\"Master cook am I,\" said Lamme, guiding them; \"Master cook am I. Push\nalong the gallant sledges laden with wines and beer; drive on before\nyou, by their horns, or by anything, horses, oxen, swine, sheep, and\nflocks singing their native songs. The pigeons coo in the baskets;\nthe capons, stuffed with crumb, are astonied in their wooden cages\nwherein they cannot budge. I am master cook. The ice cries out beneath\nthe steel of the skates. We are at the ships. To-morrow there will be\nkitchen music. Let down the pulleys; put girths on the horses, cows,\nand oxen. 'Tis a noble sight to see them thus pendent by their bellies;\nto-morrow we shall be hanging by the tongue to fat fricassees. The\ncrane hoists them up into the ship. These be carbonadoes. Throw me\nthem pell mell into the hold, hens, geese, ducks, capons. Who will\nwring their necks? The master cook. The door is locked, I have the key\nin my satchel. Praised be God in the kitchen! Long live the Beggar!\"\n\nThen Ulenspiegel went on board the admiral's ship taking with him\nDierick Slosse and the other prisoners, moaning and weeping for terror\nof the rope.\n\nMessire Worst came at the noise: perceiving Ulenspiegel--his companions\nlit up by the red glare of the torches:\n\n\"What would you of us?\" said he.\n\nUlenspiegel replied:\n\n\"This night we took, in his farm, the traitor Dierick Slosse, that\nbrought the eighteen into an ambuscade. This is the man. The others\nare innocent menservants and maidservants. Then handing him a satchel:\n\n\"These florins,\" said he, \"were flourishing in flower pots in the\ntraitor's house: there are ten thousand.\"\n\nMessire Worst said to them:\n\n\"Ye did ill to leave your ship; but because of your good success\npardon shall be granted to you. Welcome be the prisoners and the\nsatchel of florins, and ye, gallant men, to whom I assign, after\nthe laws and customs of the sea, a third of the prize: the second\nwill be for the fleet, and another third for Monseigneur d'Orange;\nstring me up the traitor incontinent.\"\n\nThe Beggars having obeyed, they opened afterward a hole in the ice\nand threw the body of Dierick Slosse into it.\n\nMessire Worst then said:\n\n\"Has grass sprung up around the ships that I hear hens cackling,\nsheep bleating, cows and oxen lowing?\"\n\n\"These are the prisoners of our teeth,\" answered Ulenspiegel;\n\"they will pay ransom of fricassees. Messire Admiral shall have\nthe choicest.\"\n\n\"As for these folk, the knaves and the maidservants, among whom are\nsprightly and pretty women, I will fetch them back aboard my ship.\"\n\nHaving done so, he addressed them as follows:\n\n\"Goodfellows and goodwives, ye are here upon the best ship in the\nworld. Here we pass our time in jollity, feast, and revel without\nend. If it please you to depart herefrom, pay ransom; if it please you\nto stay here, ye shall live like us, toiling hard and eating well. As\nfor these dear women, I accord them, with the admiral's sanction,\nfull freedom of their persons, giving them to know that it is all one\nto me whether they are fain to keep to their lovers that came upon\nthe ship with them or to make their choice of some stout Beggar here\npresent in order to bear him conjugal company.\"\n\nBut the fair women were all faithful to their lovers, save only one,\nwho, smiling and looking upon Lamme, asked him if he would have her.\n\n\"All thanks, dear one,\" said he, \"but I am otherwise bound.\"\n\n\"He is married, poor fellow,\" said the Beggars, seeing the girl vexed.\n\nBut she, turning her back on Lamme, chose another who like him had\na good round belly and a good round face.\n\nThat day and the following days there were great revels and feastings\non board with wines, fowl, and meats. And Ulenspiegel said:\n\n\"Long live the Beggar! Blow, sharp wintry winds, we will warm the air\nwith our hot breath. Our heart is afire for freedom of conscience;\nour stomachs on fire for the enemy's meats. Drink we wine, the milk\nof men. Long live the Beggar!\"\n\nNele, too, drank from a great golden tankard, and ruddy in the breath\nof the wind, played the shrill fife. And for all the cold, the Beggars\nate and drank rejoicing on the deck.\n\n\n\n\n\nXVIII\n\nSuddenly the whole fleet perceived upon the bank a black troop among\nwhich torches shone and the gleaming of arms; then the torches were\nput out, and a great darkness reigned.\n\nThe admiral's orders being sent round, the alarm was given on the\nships, and all fires were quenched; sailors and soldiers lay flat on\nthe decks, armed with axes. The gallant gunners, linstock in hand,\nwatched by the guns loaded with bags of bullets and with chain\nshot. As soon as the admiral and the captains should call out \"A\nhundred paces!\"--which denoted the enemy's distance, they were to\nfire from the bows, the poop, or the broadside, according to their\nposition in the ice.\n\nAnd Messire Worst's voice was heard saying:\n\n\"Death to whoever speaks aloud!\"\n\nAnd the captains said after him:\n\n\"Death to whoever speaks aloud!\"\n\nThe night was moonless, filled with stars.\n\n\"Dost thou hear?\" said Ulenspiegel to Lamme, in a voice like a\nwhispering ghost. \"Hearest thou the voices of the Amsterdammers, and\nthe steel of their skates ringing over the ice? They come swiftly. We\ncan hear them speak. They are saying 'The lazy Beggars are asleep. Ours\nis the Lisbon treasure!' They are lighting torches. Seest thou their\nladders for the assault, their ugly faces, and the long line of their\nband deployed for the attack? There are a thousand of them, and more.\"\n\n\"A hundred paces!\" cried Messire Worst.\n\n\"A hundred paces!\" cried the captains all.\n\nAnd there was a great noise like thunder, and lamentable outcries\nupon the ice.\n\n\"Eighty guns are thundering all together!\" said Ulenspiegel. \"They\nare fleeing! Seest thou the torches vanishing away?\"\n\n\"Pursue them!\" said Admiral Worst.\n\n\"Pursue them!\" said the captains.\n\nBut the pursuit did not last long, the fugitives having a start of\na hundred paces, and the legs of frightened hares.\n\nAnd on the men that were crying out and dying on the ice were found\ngold, jewels, and ropes for the Beggars.\n\nAnd after this victory the Beggars said one to another: \"Als God\nmet ons is, wie tegen ons zal zijn. If God is with us, who shall be\nagainst us? Long live the Beggar!\"\n\nNow on the morning of the third day thereafter Messire Worst was\nuneasy, and looked for a fresh attack. Lamme leaped upon the deck\nand said to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Fetch me to this admiral that would not listen to you when you\nprophesied a frost.\"\n\n\"Go without any fetching you?\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nLamme departed, first locking the door of his galley. The admiral\nwas on deck, straining his eyes to see if he did not perceive some\nmovement from the city.\n\nLamme came up to him.\n\n\"Monseigneur Admiral,\" said he, \"may a humble master cook give you\na rede?\"\n\n\"Speak, my son,\" said the admiral.\n\n\"Monseigneur,\" said Lamme, \"the water is thawing in the jugs; the fowl\ngrow soft again; the sausage is laying aside its mildew of hoar frost;\nthe butter becomes unctuous, the oil liquid; the salt is weeping. It\nwill rain before long, and we shall be saved, Monseigneur.\"\n\n\"Who art thou?\" asked Messire Worst.\n\n\"I am Lamme Goedzak,\" he replied, \"the master cook of the ship\nLa Briele. And if all those great savants that boast themselves\nastronomers read in the stars as true as I read in my sauces, they\ncould tell us that to-night there will be a thaw with a great hubbub\nof storm and hail: but the thaw will not last.\"\n\nAnd Lamme went back to Ulenspiegel, to whom he said, towards noon:\n\n\"I am a prophet already; the sky grows black, the wind breathes\nstormily: a warm rain is falling; already there is a foot of water\nupon the ice.\"\n\nAt night he cried, rejoicing:\n\n\"The North Sea is swollen: 'tis the hour of the flood tide; the high\nwaves rolling into the Zuyderzee break up the ice, which splinters\nin great fragments and leaps up on the ships; it flashes sparkles\nof light; here comes the hail. The admiral bids us to withdraw from\nbefore Amsterdam, and that with as much water as our greatest ship\ncan draw. Here we are in the harbour of Enckhuyse. The sea is freezing\nafresh. I am a fine prophet, and it is a miracle from God.\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel said:\n\n\"Drink we to Him, and blessings on Him.\"\n\nAnd the winter passed, and summer came.\n\n\n\n\n\nXIX\n\nIn mid-August, when hens, fed full with grain, remain deaf to the\ncall of the cock trumpeting his loves, Ulenspiegel said to his sailors\nand soldiers:\n\n\"The duke of blood, being at Utrecht, dares there to issue a blessed\nedict, promising among other gracious gifts, hunger, death, ruin\nto the inhabitants of the Low Countries who might be unwilling to\nsubmit. Everything that still remains whole, saith he, shall be\nexterminate, and His Majesty the king will people the country with\nstrangers. Bite, duke, bite! The file breaketh the viper's tooth;\nwe are files. Long live the Beggar!\n\n\"Alba, blood maketh thee drunk! Deemest thou that we would fear thy\nthreats or believe in thy clemency? Thy famous regiments whose praises\nthou didst sing throughout the whole world, thy Invincibles, thy\nTels Quels, thy Immortals, remained seven months bombarding Haarlem,\na feeble city defended by mere citizens; like mortal common men they\ndanced in air the dance of the bursting mines. Mere citizens besmeared\nthem with tar; in the end they were glorious victors, slaughtering the\ndisarmed. Hearest thou, murderer, the hour of God that striketh now?\n\n\"Haarlem hath lost her splendid defenders, her stones sweat blood. She\nhath lost and expended in her siege twelve hundred and eighty thousand\nflorins. The bishop is reinstated there; with light hand and joyful\ncountenance he blesses the churches; Don Frederick is present at\nthese consecrations; the bishop washes for him those hands that in\nGod's eyes are red and he communicates in two kinds, which is not\npermitted to the poor common herd. And the bells ring out and the\nchime flings into the air its calm, harmonious notes; it is like the\nsinging of angels over a cemetery. An eye for an eye! A tooth for a\ntooth! Long live the Beggar!\"\n\n\n\n\n\nXX\n\nThe Beggars were then at Flushing, where Nele caught fever. Forced\nto leave the ship, she was lodged at the house of one Peeters, of\nthe Reformed faith, at Turven-Key.\n\nUlenspiegel, deeply grieving, was yet rejoiced, thinking that in this\nbed where she would doubtless be healed the Spanish bullets could\nnot reach her.\n\nAnd with Lamme he was always beside her, tending her well and loving\nher better. And there they used to talk together.\n\n\"Friend and true comrade,\" said Ulenspiegel one day, \"dost thou not\nknow the news?\"\n\n\"Nay, my son,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"Seest thou the flyboat that but late came to join our fleet, and\nknowest thou who it is upon it that twangs the viol every day?\"\n\n\"Through the late colds,\" said Lamme, \"I am as one deaf in both\nears. Why dost thou laugh, my son?\"\n\nBut Ulenspiegel, continuing:\n\n\"Once,\" he said, \"I heard her sing a Flemish lied and found her voice\nwas sweet.\"\n\n\"Alas,\" said Lamme, \"she, too, sang and played upon the viol.\"\n\n\"Dost thou know the other news?\" went on Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"I know naught of it, my son,\" said Lamme.\n\nUlenspiegel made answer:\n\n\"We have our orders to drop down the Scheldt with our ships as far\nas Antwerp, to find there the enemy ships to take or burn. As for\nthe men, no quarter. What thinkest thou of this, big paunch?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said Lamme, \"shall we never hear aught else in this\ndistressful land save burnings, hangings, drownings, and other ways\nof exterminating poor men? When then will blessed peace come, that\nwe can in quiet roast partridges, fricassee chickens, and make the\npuddings sing in the pan among the eggs? I like the black ones best;\nthe white are too rich.\"\n\n\"This sweet time will come,\" replied Ulenspiegel, \"when in the\norchards of Flanders we see on apple, plum, pear trees and cherry\ntrees, a Spaniard hanged on every bough.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said Lamme, \"if only I could find my wife again, my so dear,\nso sweet, beloved soft darling faithful wife! For know it well,\nmy son, cuckold I was not nor shall ever be; she was too sober and\ncalm in her ways for that; she eschewed the company of other men;\nif she loved fair and fine array, it was but for woman's need. I was\nher cook, her kitchenman, her scullion, I am glad to say it, why am\nI it not once more? but I was her master as well and her husband.\"\n\n\"Let us end this talk,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"Hearest thou the admiral\ncalling: 'Up anchors!' and captains after him calling the same? We\nmust needs weigh soon.\"\n\n\"Why dost thou go so quickly?\" said Nele to Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"We are going to the ships,\" said he.\n\n\"Without me?\" she said.\n\n\"Aye,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Dost thou not think,\" said she, \"how lying here I shall be distressed\nfor thee?\"\n\n\"Dearest,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"my skin is made of iron.\"\n\n\"Thou art mocking,\" said she. \"I see nothing on thee but thy doublet,\nwhich is cloth, not iron; beneath it is thy body, made of bone and\nflesh, like my own. If they wound thee, who will heal thee? Art thou\nto die all alone in the midst of the fighters? I shall go with thee.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said he, \"if the lances, balls, swords, axes, maces, sparing\nme, fall on thy dear body, what shall I do--I, good for naught without\nthee in this vile world?\"\n\nBut Nele said:\n\n\"I would fain follow thee; there will be no peril; I will hide in\nthe wooden forts where the arquebusiers are.\"\n\n\"If thou dost go, I stay, and they will hold thy friend Ulenspiegel\ntraitor and coward; but listen to my lay:\n\n\n    \"My hair is steel, as casque set there;\n      An armour forged by Nature's hand\n      My skin the first is buff well tanned,\n    And steel the second skin I wear.\n\n    \"In vain to catch me in his snare\n      Death, grinning monster, takes his stand;\n      My skin the first is buff well tanned,\n    And steel the second skin I wear.\n\n    \"My standards 'Live' as motto bear,\n      Live ever in a sunshine land:\n      My skin the first is buff well tanned,\n    And steel the second skin I wear.\"\n\n\nAnd he went off singing, not without having kissed the shaking mouth\nand the lovely eyes of Nele sunk in fever, smiling and weeping all\ntogether.\n\nThe Beggars are at Antwerp; they take the ships of Alba even in the\nvery harbour. Entering the city, in broad day, they set free certain\nprisoners, and make others prisoner to bring ransom. By force they\nmake the citizens rise, and some they constrain to follow them,\non pain of death, without uttering a word.\n\nUlenspiegel said to Lamme:\n\n\"The admiral's son is detained at the \u00c9cout\u00eate's: we must deliver him.\"\n\nGoing into the house of the \u00c9cout\u00eate, they see the son they sought\nin the company of a big monk with a noble belly, who was preaching\nwrathfully to him, fain to make him return to the bosom of our Mother\nHoly Church. But the lad would by no means consent thereto. He departed\nwith Ulenspiegel. Meanwhile Lamme, seizing the monk by the cowl,\nmade him walk before him in the streets of Antwerp, saying:\n\n\"Thou art worth a hundred florins ransom: pack up and march on. Why\ndost thou hang back? Hast thou lead in thy sandals? March, bag of lard,\nvictual press, soup belly!\"\n\n\"I march, Master Beggar, I march; but saving the respect due to\nyour arquebuse, you are as big in the belly as myself, a paunchy,\nvasty fellow.\"\n\nThen Lamme, pushing him on:\n\n\"Dost thou dare indeed, foul monk,\" said he, \"to liken thy cloistral,\nuseless, lazy grease to my Fleming fat honourably sustained and fed\nby toils, fatigues, and battles? Run, or I shall make thee go like\na dog, and that with the spur at the end of my boot-sole.\"\n\nBut the monk could not run, and he was all out of breath, and Lamme\nthe same. And so they came to the ship.\n\n\n\n\n\nXXI\n\nHaving taken Rammekens, Gertruydenberg, Alckmaer, the Beggars came\nback to Flushing.\n\nNele, now hale and cured, was waiting for Ulenspiegel at the harbour.\n\n\"Thyl,\" said she, \"my love, Thyl, art thou not wounded?\"\n\nUlenspiegel sang:\n\n\n    \"My standards 'Live' as motto bear,\n      Live ever in a sunshine land;\n      My skin the first is buff well tanned\n    My second skin is forged of steel.\"\n\n\n\"Alas!\" said Lamme, dragging a leg, \"the bullets, grenades, chain\nshot rain around him; he feels but the wind of them. Thou art without\ndoubt a spirit, Ulenspiegel, and thou, too, Nele, for I behold thee\never brisk and young.\"\n\n\"Why dost thou drag thy leg?\" asked Nele of Lamme.\n\n\"I am no spirit and never will be,\" said he. \"And so I took an axe\nstroke in the thigh--how round and white my wife's was!--see, I am\nbleeding. Alas! why have I her not here to tend me!\"\n\nBut Nele, angry, replied:\n\n\"What need hast thou of a wife forsworn?\"\n\n\"Say naught ill of her,\" replied Lamme.\n\n\"Here,\" said Nele, \"here is balsam; I was keeping it for Ulenspiegel;\nput it upon the wound.\"\n\nLamme, having dressed his wound, was joyous, for the balsam put an\nend to the keen anguish; and they went up again to the ship all three.\n\nSeeing the monk who was walking to and fro there with his hands bound:\n\n\"Who is that one?\" she said. \"I have seen him already and I think I\nknow him.\"\n\n\"He is worth a hundred florins ransom,\" replied Lamme.\n\n\n\n\n\nXXII\n\nThat day aboard the fleet there was a feast. In spite of the sharp\nDecember wind, despite the rain, despite the snow, all the Beggars\nof the fleet were on the decks of the ships. The silver crescents\ngleamed lurid upon the bonnets of Zealand.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel sang:\n\n\n    \"Leyden is delivered: the bloody duke leaves the Low Countries:\n              Ring out, ye bells re\u00ebchoing:\n              Chimes, fling your songs into the air:\n              Clink, ye glasses and bottles, clink.\n\n    \"When the mastiff slinks away from blows,\n              His tail between his legs,\n              With bloodshot eye\n              He turns upon the cudgels.\n\n              \"And his torn jaw\n              Shivers and pants\n              He has gone, the bloody duke;\n    Clink bottle and glass. Long live the Beggar!\n\n              \"Fain would he bite himself,\n              The cudgels broke his teeth.\n              Hanging his puff-jowled head\n    He thinks of the days of murder and lust.\n              He is gone, the bloody duke:\n              Then beat upon the drum of glory,\n              Then beat upon the drum of war!\n              Long live the Beggar!\n\n              \"He cries to the devil: 'I will sell thee\n    My doggish soul for one hour of might.'\n              'Thy soul it is no more to me,'\n              Said the devil, 'than a herring is.'\n              The teeth meet no longer now.\n              They must avoid hard morsels.\n              He hath gone, the bloody duke:\n                Long live the Beggar!\n\n    \"The little street dogs, crooklegged, one-eyed, full of mange,\n      That live or die on rubbish heaps.\n              Heave up their leg one by one\n              On him that killed for love of slaughter.--\n                Long live the Beggar.\n\n              \"He loved not women, nor friends,\n              Nor gayness, nor sun, nor his master,\n              Nothing but Death, his betrothed,\n              Who broke his legs\n              As prelude to the betrothal,\n              For she loves not men hale and whole;\n              Beat upon the drum of joy,\n                Long live the Beggar!\n\n              \"And the little street dogs, crooklegged,\n              Limping, one-eyed, full of mange,\n              Heave their leg up once again\n              In a hot and salty fashion.\n              And with them greyhounds and mastiffs,\n              Dogs of Hungary, of Brabant,\n              Of Namur and Luxembourg,\n                Long live the Beggar!\n\n              \"And, miserably, with foaming mouth,\n              He goes to die beside his master,\n              Who fetches him a sounding kick,\n              For not biting enough.\n              \"In hell he weddeth Death.\n              She calleth him 'My Duke';\n              He calleth her 'My Inquisition.'\n                Long live the Beggar!\n\n              \"Ring out ye bells re\u00ebchoing:\n              Chimes, fling your songs into the air;\n              Clink, glasses and bottles, clink:\n                Long live the Beggar!\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nBOOK V\n\n\nI\n\nThe monk that Lamme captured, perceiving that the Beggars did not\ndesire to have him dead, but paying ransom, began to lift up his nose\non board the ship:\n\n\"See,\" quoth he, marching and wagging his head furiously, \"see in what\na gulf of vile, black, and foul abominations I have fallen in setting\nfoot on this wooden tub. Were I not here, I whom the Lord anointed....\"\n\n\"With dog's grease?\" asked the Beggars.\n\n\"Dogs yourselves,\" replied the monk, continuing his discourse, \"aye,\nmangy dogs, strays, defiled, starveling, that have fled out of the rich\npathway of our Mother the Holy Roman Church to enter upon the parched\nhighway of your tattered Reformed Church. Aye! if I were not here in\nyour wooden shoe, your tub, long since would the Lord have swallowed\nit up in the deepest gulfs of the sea, with you, your accursed arms,\nyour devils' cannon, your singing captain, your blasphemous crescents,\naye! down to the very deeps of the unfathomable bottom of Satan's\nkingdom, where ye will not burn, nay, but where ye shall freeze, shall\nshiver, shall die of cold throughout all long eternity. Yea! the God\nof heaven will thus quench the fire of your impious hate against our\nsweet Mother the Holy Roman Church, against messieurs the saints,\nmesseigneurs the bishops and the blessed edicts that were so mildly\nand so ripely devised. Aye! and I should see you from the peak of\nparadise, purple as beetroots or white as turnips so cold ye should\nbe. 'T sy! 't sy! 't sy! So, so, so, so be it.\"\n\nThe sailors, soldiers, and cabin boys jeered at him, and shot dried\npeas at him through peashooters. And he covered his face with his\nhands against this artillery.\n\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nThe duke of blood having quitted the country, Messires de Medina-Coeli\nand De Requesens governed it with less cruelty. Then the States\nGeneral ruled them in the name of the king.\n\nMeanwhile, the folk of Zealand and of Holland, most lucky by reason\nof the sea and their dykes, which are natural ramparts and fortresses\nto them, opened free temples to the God of free men; and the murderous\nPapists might sing their hymns beside them; and Monseigneur the Silent\nof Orange refrained from founding a royal dynasty of stadtholders.\n\nThe Belgian country was ravaged by the Walloons who were dissatisfied\nby the peace of Ghent, which, men said, was to quench all hatreds. And\nthese Walloons, Pater-noster knechter, wearing upon their necks big\nblack rosaries, of which there were found two thousand at Spienne in\nHainaut, stealing oxen and horses by twelve hundred, two thousand at\na time, choosing out the best, carrying off women and girls by field\nand by marsh; eating and never paying, these Walloons used to burn\nwithin their farmsteads the armed peasants that tried to prevent the\nfruit of their hard toil from being carried away.\n\nAnd the common folk would say to one another: \"Don Juan is soon to\ncome with his Spaniards, and his Great Highness will come with his\nFrenchmen, not Huguenots but Papists: and the Silent, desiring to\nrule in peace over Holland, Zealand, Gueldre, Utrecht, Overyssel,\ncedes in a secret treaty the lands of Belgium, for Monsieur d'Anjou\nto make himself a king therein.\"\n\nSome of the commonalty were still confident. \"The States,\" said they,\n\"have twenty thousand well-armed men, with plenty of cannon and good\ncavalry. They will repel all foreign soldiery.\"\n\nBut the thoughtful ones said: \"The States have twenty thousand men\non paper, but not in the field; they lack cavalry and let their\nhorses be stolen within a league of their camps by the Pater-noster\nknechten. They have no artillery, for while needing it at home,\nthey decided to send one hundred cannon with powder and shot to Don\nSebastian of Portugal; and no man knoweth whither has gone the two\nmillion crowns we have paid on four occasions by way of taxes and\ncontributions; the citizens of Ghent and Brussels are arming, Ghent\nfor the Reformation, and Brussels even as Ghent; at Brussels the women\nplay the tambourine while their men toil at the ramparts. And Ghent\nthe Bold is sending to Brussels the Gay powder and cannon, the which\nshe lacketh for her defence against the Malcontents and the Spaniards.\"\n\nAnd man by man in the towns and the flat country, in 't plat landt,\nsees that trust cannot be placed either in the lords or in many\nanother. \"And we citizens and common folk are sore at heart for that\ngiving our money and ready to give our blood, we see that nothing goes\nforward for the good of the country of our sires. And the Belgian land\nis cowed and angered, having no trusty chiefs to give it the chance\nof battle and to give it victory, through great effort of arms all\nready against the foes of liberty.\"\n\nAnd the thoughtful folk said among themselves:\n\n\"In the Peace of Ghent, the lords of Holland and of Belgium swore\nthe abolishment of hate, mutual help between the Belgian Estates and\nthe Estates of the Netherlands; declared the edicts null and void,\nthe confiscations cancelled, peace between the two religions; promised\nto raze each and every column, trophy, inscription, and effigy set up\nby the Duke of Alba to our dishonour. But in the hearts of the chiefs\nthe hatreds are still afoot; the nobles and the clergy foment division\nbetween the States of the Union; they receive money to pay soldiers,\nthey keep it for their own gluttony; fifteen thousand law suits for\nthe recovery of confiscated property are suspended; the Lutherans and\nRomans unite against the Calvinists; lawful heirs cannot succeed in\ndriving the despoilers from out their inheritance; the duke's statue\nis on the ground, but the image of the Inquisition is enshrined within\ntheir hearts.\"\n\nAnd the poor commonalty and the woeful burgesses waited ever for the\nvaliant and trusty chief that would lead them to battle for freedom.\n\nAnd they said among themselves: \"Where are the illustrious signatories\nto the Compromise, all united, so they said, for the good of the\ncountry? Why did these two-faced men make such a 'holy alliance,'\nif they were to break it at once? Why meet together with so much\ncommotion, rouse the king's wrath, to dissolve like cowards and\ntraitors after? Five hundred as they were, great lords and low lords\nbanded like brothers, they saved us from the fury of Spain; but they\nsacrificed the welfare of the land of Belgium to their own profit,\neven as did d'Egmont and de Hoorn.\n\n\"Alas!\" said they, \"see Don Juan come now, handsome and ambitious,\nthe enemy of Philip, but more the enemy of his country. He is coming\nfor the Pope and for himself. Nobles and clergy are traitors.\"\n\nAnd they began a semblance of war. Upon the walls along the main\nstreets and the little streets of Ghent and Brussels, nay even upon the\nmasts of the Beggars' ships, were then to be seen posted up the names\nof traitors, army chiefs, and commanders of fortresses: the names\nof the Count of Liederkerke, who did not defend his castle against\nDon Juan; of the provost of Li\u00e9ge, who would have sold the city to\nDon Juan; of Messieurs d'Aerschot, de Mansfeldt, de Berlaymont, de\nRassenghien; the name, of the Council of State, of Georges de Lalaing,\ngovernor of Frisia, that of the army leader the seigneur de Rossignol,\nan emissary of Don Juan, the go-between for murder between Philip and\nJaureguy, the clumsy assassin of the Prince of Orange; the name of the\nArchbishop of Cambrai, who would have given the Spaniards entry into\nthe town; the names of the Jesuits of Antwerp, offering three casks\nof gold to the States--that was two million florins--not to demolish\nthe castle and to hold it for Don Juan; of the Bishop of Li\u00e9ge; of\nRoman preachers defaming and abusing the patriots; of the Bishop of\nUtrecht, whom the citizens sent elsewhere to pasture on the grass of\ntreachery; the orders of begging friars, which intrigued and plotted\nat Ghent in favour of Don Juan. The folk of Bois-le-Duc nailed on the\npillory the name of Peter the Carmelite, who helped by their bishop\nand his clergy, undertook to hand over the town to Don Juan.\n\nAt Douai they did not indeed hang the rector of the university in\neffigy, a man no less Spaniardized; but upon the ships of the Beggars\nwere seen on the breast of mannikins hanging by their necks the\nnames of monks, abbots, and prelates, of eighteen hundred rich women\nand girls of the nunnery of Malines who with their money sustained,\ngilded, and beplumed the country's butchers.\n\nAnd on these mannikins, the pillories of traitors, were to be read\nthe names of the Marquis d'Harrault, the commander of the fortress\nof Philippeville, wasting and squandering munitions of war and food\nuselessly in order to give up the place to the enemy under pretence of\na lack of provisions; the name of Belver, who surrendered Lembourg,\nwhen the town might have held out another eight months; that of the\nPresident of the Council of Flanders; of the magistrate of Bruges,\nof the magistrate of Malines, holding their towns for Don Juan,\nof the members of the Exchequer Council of Guelderland, closed by\nreason of treachery; of those of the Council of Brabant, of the\nChancellery of the Duchy; of the Privy Council and the Council of\nFinance; of the Grand Bailiff and the Burgomaster of Menin; and of\nthe ill neighbours of Artois, who gave passage without let to two\nthousand Frenchmen bent upon pillage.\n\n\"Alas!\" said the city folk among themselves, \"here is the Duke of Anjou\nwith a footing in our country: he would fain be king among us; did ye\nbehold him entering into Mons, a little man, with fat hips, big nose,\na yellow phiz, a fleering mouth? 'Tis a great prince, loving loves\nout of the common; he is called, that he may have in his name woman's\ngrace and man's force, Monseigneur monsieur Sa Grande Altesse d'Anjou.\"\n\nUlenspiegel was pensive. And he sang:\n\n\n    \"Blue are the skies, the clear bright skies;\n    Cover the banners all in cr\u00eape,\n      With cr\u00eape the handle of the sword;\n        Hide every gem;\n      Turn the mirrors over;\n    I sing the song of Death,\n      The traitors' song.\n\n    \"They have set foot upon the belly\n      And on the bosom of the proud lands\n      Of Brabant, Flanders, Hainault,\n      Antwerp, Artois, Luxembourg.\n      Nobles and clergy are traitors;\n      The bait of reward allures them.\n        I sing the traitors' song.\n\n    \"When the foe sacks everywhere,\n    When the Spaniard enters Antwerp,\n    Abb\u00e9s, prelates, and army chiefs\n    Go through the streets of the town,\n    Clad in silk, bedecked with gold,\n    Their faces shining with good wine,\n    Displaying thus their infamy.\n\n    \"And through them, the Inquisition\n    Will wake again in high triumph,\n      And new Titelmans\n    Will arrest the deaf and dumb\n      For heresy.\n    I sing the traitors' song.\n\n    \"Signatories to the Compromise.\n      Coward signatories,\n    Be your names all accursed!\n    Where are ye in the hour of war?\n    Ye march like corbies\n      In the Spaniards' train.\n      Beat upon the drum of woe.\n\n    \"Land of Belgium, future years\n    Will condemn thee for that thou,\n    All in arms, didst let thyself be pillaged.\n    Future, hasten not;\n    See the traitors labouring:\n      There are twenty, a thousand,\n    Filling every post,\n    The great give them to the little.\n\n    \"They have plotted and agreed\n    That they might fetter all defence,\n      With discord and sloth,\n    Their treacherous devices.\n    Cover the mirrors with cr\u00eape\n      And the hilts of the swords.\n    'Tis the traitors' song.\n\n    \"They declare rebels\n    All Spaniards and malcontents;\n      Forbid to help them\n      With bread or shelter,\n      With lead or powder.\n    If any are taken to be hanged,\n      To be hanged,\n    They release them at once.\n\n    \"'Up!' say the men of Brussels,\n    'Up!' say the men of Ghent\n      And the Belgian commons,\n    Poor men, they mean to crush you\n      Between the king\n    And the Pope who launches\n    The crusade against Flanders.\n\n    \"They come, the hirelings,\n      At the smell of blood;\n      Bands of dogs,\n    Of serpents and hy\u00e6nas.\n    They hunger, they are athirst.\n    Poor land of our sires,\n    Ripe for ruin and death.\n\n    \"'Tis not Don Juan\n    That makes ready the task\n    For Farn\u00e8se, the Pope's minion.\n    But those thou didst load\n    With gold and distinctions,\n    Who confessed thy women\n    Thy girls and thy children!\n\n    \"They have flung thee to ground\n    And the Spaniard holds\n    The knife at thy throat;\n    They jeer at thee,\n    Feasting at Brussels\n    The coming of Orange.\n\n    \"When on the canal were seen\n    So many fireworks\n    Exploding their joy,\n    So many triumphing boats,\n    Paintings, tapestries,\n    They were playing, O Belgium,\n      The old tale of Joseph\n      Sold by his brothers.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nSeeing that he was allowed to say what he pleased, the monk lifted\nup his nose on board the ship; and the sailors and soldiers, to make\nhim the more ready and eager to preach, slandered Madame the Virgin,\nMessieurs the Saints, and the pious practices of the Holy Roman Church.\n\nThen, becoming enraged, he vomited out a flood of abuse against them.\n\n\"Aye!\" he cried, \"aye, here am I then in the den of the Beggars! Yea,\nthese are indeed those accursed devourers of the land! Yea. And\nthey say that the Inquisitor, that holy man, has burned too many of\nthem! Nay: there is still some of the filthy vermin left. Aye, on\nthese goodly and gallant ships of our Lord the King, once so clean\nand well scoured, now can be seen the vermin of the Beggars, aye,\nthe stinking vermin. Aye, they are vermin, foul, stinking, infamous\nvermin, the singing captain, the cook with his belly filled with\nimpiety, and all of them with their blasphemous crescents. When the\nking will have his ships scoured with the suds of artillery, it will\nneed more than a hundred thousand florins' worth of powder and cannon\nshot to clear away this filthy, beastly stinking infection. Aye,\nye were all born in Madame Lucifer's alcove, condemned to dwell\nwith Satanas between walls of vermin, under curtains of vermin, on\nmattresses of vermin. Yea, and there it was that in their infamous\nloves they begat and conceived the Beggars. Aye, and I spit upon you.\"\n\nAt this word the Beggars said to him:\n\n\"Why do we keep here this idle rascal, who is good for nothing but\nto spew up insults? Let us hang him rather.\"\n\nAnd they set about doing it.\n\nThe monk, seeing the rope ready, the ladder propped against the mast,\nand that they were about to bind his hands, said woefully:\n\n\"Have pity upon me, Messieurs the Beggars, it is the demon of anger\nthat speaks in my heart and not your humble captive, a poor monk that\nhath but one only neck in this world: gracious lords, have mercy:\nshut my mouth if ye will with a choke-pear; 'tis a bitter fruit,\nbut hang me not.\"\n\nBut they, without giving heed, and despite his furious struggles,\nwere dragging him towards the ladder. He cried then so shrill and\nloud that Lamme said to Ulenspiegel, who was with him and tending\nhim in the cook's galley:\n\n\"My son! my son! they have stolen a pig from the stable, and they\nare making off. Oh, the robbers! if I could but rise!\"\n\nUlenspiegel went up and saw nothing but the monk. And he, catching\nsight of Ulenspiegel, fell upon his knees, with his hands outstretched\nto him.\n\n\"Messire Captain,\" said he, \"captain of the valiant Beggars,\nredoubtable on land and on sea, your soldiers are fain to hang me\nbecause I have transgressed with my tongue: 'tis an unjust punishment,\nMessire Captain, for so must all advocates, procurators, preachers,\nand women, be given a hempen collar, and the world would be unpeopled;\nMessire, save me from the rope. I shall pray for you; you will never\nbe damned: grant me pardon. The devil of prating carried me away and\nmade me speak without ceasing: 'tis a mighty misfortune. My poor bile\nsoured then and made me say a thousand things I never think. Grace,\nMessire Captain, and you, Messieurs, intercede for me.\"\n\nSuddenly Lamme appeared on the deck in his shirt and said:\n\n\"Captain and friends, 'twas not the pig but the monk that was\nsquealing; I am overjoyed. Ulenspiegel, my son, I have conceived a\nhigh design with regard to His Paternity; give him his life, but leave\nhim not at liberty, else will he do some ill trick upon the ship:\nrather have a cage built for him on the deck, a strait cage well\nopened and airy, where he can do no more than sit down and sleep;\nsuch a one as they make for capons; let me feed him, and let him be\nhanged if he does not eat as much as I will.\"\n\n\"Let him be hanged if he will not eat,\" said Ulenspiegel and the\nBeggars.\n\n\"What dost thou mean to do with me, big man?\" said the monk.\n\n\"Thou shalt see,\" replied Lamme.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel did as Lamme wished, and the monk was put in a cage,\nand all could contemplate him at their leisure.\n\nLamme had gone down into his galley; Ulenspiegel followed and heard\nhim disputing with Nele:\n\n\"I will not lie down,\" he was saying, \"no, I will not lie down to\nhave others groping and fumbling with my sauces; no, I will not stay\nin my bed, like a calf!\"\n\n\"Do not be angry, Lamme,\" said Nele, \"or your wound will reopen and\nyou will die.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said he, \"I will die: I am tired of living without my wife. Is\nit not enough for me to have lost her, without your trying furthermore\nto prevent me, me the master cook of this place, from myself keeping\nwatch over the soup? Know ye not that there is a health inherent in\nthe steam of sauces and fricassees? They even nourish my spirit and\narmour me against misfortunes.\"\n\n\"Lamme,\" said Nele, \"thou must needs hearken to our counsel and let\nthyself be healed by us.\"\n\n\"I am fain to let myself be healed,\" said Lamme: \"but rather than\nanother should enter here, some ignorant good-for-naught, a frowsy,\nulcerous, blear-eyed, dropping nosed fellow, and come to king it as\nmaster cook in my place, and paddle with his filthy fingers in my\nsauces, I would rather kill him with my wooden ladle, which would be\niron for that task.\"\n\n\"All the same,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"thou must have an assistant;\nthou art sick....\"\n\n\"An assistant for me,\" said Lamme, \"for me, an assistant! Art thou then\nstuffed with naught but ingratitude, as a sausage is full of minced\nmeat? An assistant, my son, and 'tis thou that dost say so to me, thy\nfriend, who have nourished thee so long time and so succulently! Now\nwill my wound reopen. False friend, who then would dress thy food\nlike me? What would ye do, ye two, if I were not there to give thee,\nchief-captain, and thee, Nele, some dainty stew or other?\"\n\n\"We will work ourselves in the galley,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Cooking,\" said Lamme: \"thou art good to eat of it, to smell it, to\nsniff it up, but to perform it, no: poor friend and chief-captain,\nsaving your respect, I could make thee eat leather wallets cut up\ninto ribbons, and thou wouldst take it for toughish tripe: leave me,\nmy son, to be still the master cook of here, else I shall dry up,\nlike a lathstick.\"\n\n\"Remain master cook then,\" said Ulenspiegel; \"if thou dost not heal,\nI will shut up the galley and we shall eat naught save biscuits.\"\n\n\"Ah! my son,\" said Lamme, weeping for joy, \"thou art good and kind\nas Notre Dame herself.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nAnd in any case he appeared to be healing.\n\nEvery Saturday the Beggars saw him measuring the monk's waist girth\nwith a long leather thong.\n\nThe first Saturday he said:\n\n\"Four feet.\"\n\nAnd measuring himself, he said:\n\n\"Four feet and a half.\"\n\nAnd he seemed melancholy.\n\nBut, speaking of the monk, on the eighth Saturday he was full of joy\nand said:\n\n\"Four feet and three quarters.\"\n\nAnd the monk, angry, when he took his measure, would say to him:\n\n\"What do you want with me, big man?\"\n\nBut Lamme would put out his tongue at him without a word.\n\nAnd seven times a day, the sailors and soldiers saw him come with a\nnew dish, saying to the monk:\n\n\"Here be rich beans in Flemish butter: didst thou eat the like in\nthy monastery? Thou hast a goodly phiz; there is no starving on this\nship. Dost thou not feel cushions of fat coming on thy back? Before\nlong thou wilt have no need of a mattress to lie on.\"\n\nAt the monk's second meal:\n\n\"Here,\" he would say, \"there are koeke-bakken after the Brussels\nfashion; the French folk call them cr\u00eapes, for they wear crapes on\ntheir kerchiefs for a sign of mourning: these are not black, but\nfair of hue and golden browned in the oven: seest thou the butter\nstreaming off them? So shall it be with thy belly.\"\n\n\"I have no hunger,\" the monk would say.\n\n\"Thou must needs eat,\" was Lamme's answer. \"Dost thou deem that\nthese are pancakes of buckwheat? 'tis pure wheat, my father, father\nin grease, fine flour of the wheat, my father with the four chins:\nalready I see the fifth one coming, and my heart rejoices. Eat.\"\n\n\"Leave me in peace, big man,\" said the monk.\n\nLamme, becoming wrathful, would reply:\n\n\"I am the lord and disposer of thy life: dost thou prefer the rope\nto a good bowl of pea soup with sippets, such as I am about to fetch\nthee presently?\"\n\nAnd coming with the bowl:\n\n\"Pea soup,\" quoth Lamme, \"loves to be eaten in company: and therefore\nI have just added thereto knoedels of Germany, goodly dumplings of\nCorinth flour, cast all alive into boiling water: they are heavy,\nbut make plenteous fat. Eat all thou canst; the more thou dost eat\nthe greater my joy: do not feign disgust; breathe not so hard as\nif thou hadst over much: eat. Is it not better to eat than to be\nhanged? Let's see thy thigh! it thickens also; two feet seven inches\nround about. Where is the ham that measureth as much?\"\n\nAn hour after he came back to the monk:\n\n\"Come,\" said he, \"here are nine pigeons: they have been slaughtered for\nthee, these innocent beasts that wont to fly unfearing above the ships:\ndisdain them not; I have put into their bellies a ball of butter,\nbreadcrumbs, grated nutmeg, cloves pounded in a brass mortar shining\nlike thy skin: Master Sun rejoices to be able to admire himself in\na face as bright as thine, by reason of the grease, the good grease\nI have made for thee.\"\n\nAt the fifth meal he would fetch him a waterzoey.\n\n\"What thinkest thou,\" quoth he, \"of this hodgepodge of fish? The sea\ncarries thee and feedeth thee: she could do no more for the King's\nMajesty. Aye, aye, I can see the fifth chin visibly a-coming a little\nmore on the left side than on the right side: we must fatten up this\nside that is neglected, for God saith to us: 'Be just to each.' Where\nwould justice be, if not in an equitable distributing of grease? I will\nbring thee for thy sixth repast mussels, those oysters of the poor,\nsuch as they never served thee in thy convent: ignorant folk boil\nthem and eat them so; but that is but the prologue to the fricassee;\nthey must next be stripped of their shells, and their gentle bodies\nput in a pan, then stewed delicately with celery, nutmeg, and cloves,\nand bind the sauce with beer and flour, and serve them with buttered\ntoast. I have done them in this fashion for thee. Why do children\nowe so great a gratitude to their fathers and mothers? Because they\nhave given them shelter and love, but beyond all things, food: thou\noughtest then to love me as thy father and thy mother, and even as\nto them thou owest me the gratitude of thy stomach: roll not against\nme then such savage eyes.\n\n\"Presently I shall bring thee a soup of beer and flour, well sweetened\nwith cinnamon a-plenty. Knowest thou for why? That thy fat may\nbecome translucent and shiver upon thy skin: such it is seen when\nthou movest. Now here is the curfew ringing: sleep in peace, taking\nno thought for the morrow, certain to find thy succulent repasts once\nmore, and thy friend Lamme to give them thee without fail.\"\n\n\"Begone and leave me to pray to God,\" said the monk.\n\n\"Pray,\" said Lamme, \"pray with the cheerful music of snoring: beer\nand sleep will make grease for thee, goodly grease. For my part,\nI am glad of it.\"\n\nAnd Lamme went off to put himself in bed.\n\nAnd the sailors and soldiers would say to him:\n\n\"Why, then, do you feed so richly this monk that wishes thee no good?\"\n\n\"Let me alone,\" said Lamme, \"I am accomplishing a mighty work.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nDecember was come, the month of long dark nights. Ulenspiegel sang:\n\n\n    \"Monseigneur Sa Grande Altesse\n        Takes off his mask,\n    Eager to reign over the Belgian land.\n        The Estates Spaniardized\n        But not Angevined\n        Deal with the taxes.\n        Beat upon the drum\n        Of Anjou's thwarting.\n\n    \"They have within their power\n    Domains, excise, and funds,\n    Making of magistrates\n    And offices as well.\n    He hateth the Reformed\n    Monsieur Sa Grande Altesse,\n    An atheist in France\n        Oh! Anjou's thwarting.\n\n    \"For he would fain be king\n    By the sword and by force,\n    King absolute in all.\n    This Monseigneur, this Grande Altesse;\n    Fain would he foully seize\n    Many fair towns, yea, Antwerp, too;\n    Signorkes and pagaders rise early,\n        Oh! Anjou's thwarting!\n\n    \"'Tis not upon thee, France,\n    That this folk rushes, mad with rage;\n    These deadly weaponed blows\n    Fall not upon thy noble body;\n    And they are not thy offspring\n    Whose corpses in great heaps\n    Choke the Kip-Dorp Gate.\n        Oh! the thwarting of Anjou!\n\n    \"No, these are no sons of thine\n    The people fling from the ramparts.\n    'Tis the High Highness of Anjou,\n    The passive libertine Anjou,\n    Living, France, on thy very blood,\n    And eager to drink ours;\n    But 'twixt the cup and lip....\n        Oh! the thwarting of Anjou.\n\n    \"Monsieur Sa Grande Altesse.\n    In a defenceless town\n    Cried, 'Kill! kill! Long live the Mass!'\n    With his handsome minions,\n    With eyes wherein gleams\n    The shameful fire, impudent, restless,\n    Lust without love.\n        Oh! the thwarting of Anjou!\n\n    \"'Tis they that are smitten, not thee, poor folk,\n    On whom they weigh with tax,\n    Salt tax, poll tax, deflowering,\n    Contemning thee, making thee give\n    Thy corn, thy horses, thy wains,\n    Thou that art a father to them.\n        Oh! the thwarting of Anjou!\n\n    \"Thou that art a mother to them,\n    Suckling the misbehaviour\n    Of these parricides that sully\n    Thy name abroad, France, that dost feast\n    On the savours of their glory\n    When they add by savage feast.\n        Oh! the thwarting of Anjou!\n\n    \"A floret to thy soldier crown,\n    A province to thy territory.\n    Give the stupid cock 'Lust and battle'\n    Thy foot on the neck.\n    People of France, people of men,\n    The foot that treads them down!\n    And all the peoples will love thee\n        For the thwarting of Anjou.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nIn May, when the peasant women of Flanders by night throw backwards\nslowly over their heads three black beans to keep them from sickness\nand death, Lamme's wound opened again: he had a high fever and asked\nto be laid on the deck of the ship, over against the monk's cage.\n\nUlenspiegel was very willing; but for fear lest his friend might fall\ninto the sea in a fever fit, he had him strongly fastened down upon\nhis bed.\n\nIn his interludes of reason, Lamme incessantly enjoined on them not\nto forget the monk: and he thrust out his tongue at him.\n\nAnd the monk said:\n\n\"Thou dost insult me, big man.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" replied Lamme, \"I am fattening thee.\"\n\nThe wind blew soft, the sun shone warm; Lamme in his fever was securely\ntied on his bed, so that in his witless spasms of leaping he might\nnot jump over the side of the ship; and deeming himself still in his\ngalley, he said:\n\n\"This fire is bright to-day. Soon it will rain ortolans. Wife, spread\nsnares in our orchard. Thou art lovely thus, with thy sleeves rolled\nup to the elbow. Thy arm is white, I would fain bite it, bite with\nmy lips that are teeth of live velvet. Whose is this lovely flesh,\nwhose those lovely breasts showing beneath thy white jacket of\nfine linen? Mine, my sweet treasure. Who will make the fricassee of\ncock's comb and chickens' rumps? Not too much nutmeg, it brings on\nfever. White sauce, thyme, and laurel: where are the yolks of eggs?\"\n\nThen making a sign for Ulenspiegel to bring his ear close to his mouth,\nhe said to him in a low voice:\n\n\"Presently it will rain venison; I shall keep thee four ortolans more\nthan the others. Thou art the captain; betray me not.\"\n\nThen hearing the sea beat softly on the ship's side:\n\n\"The soup is boiling, my son; the soup is boiling, but how slow is\nthis fire to heat up!\"\n\nAs soon as he recovered his wits, he said, speaking of the monk:\n\n\"Where is he? doth he grow in grease?\"\n\nSeeing him then, he put out his tongue at him and said:\n\n\"The great work is being accomplished; I am content.\"\n\nOne day he asked to have the great scales set up on the deck, and\nto be set in it, he on one pan, the monk on the other: scarcely\nwas the monk in place than Lamme soared like an arrow in the air,\nand rejoicing, he said, looking at him:\n\n\"He weighs it down! he weighs it down! I am a weightless spirit beside\nhim: I will fly in the air like a bird. I have my idea: take him\naway that I may come down; now put on the weights. Put him back. What\ndoes he weigh? Three hundred and fourteen pounds. And I? Two hundred\nand twenty.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nThe night of the day after this, when the dawn was rising gray,\nUlenspiegel was awakened by Lamme crying:\n\n\"Ulenspiegel! Ulenspiegel! help, rescue, keep her from going away. Cut\nthe cords! cut the cords!\"\n\nUlenspiegel came up on the deck and said:\n\n\"Why dost thou call out? I see naught.\"\n\n\"'Tis she,\" replied Lamme, \"she, my wife, there, in that skiff rounding\nthat flyboat; aye, that flyboat whence there came the sound of singing\nand the viol strings.\"\n\nNele had come up on deck.\n\n\"Cut the cords, my dear,\" said Lamme. \"Seest thou not that my wound is\ncured, her soft hand hath healed it; she, aye, she. Dost thou see her\nstanding up in the skiff? Dost thou hear? she is singing still. Come,\nmy beloved, come; flee not from thy poor Lamme, who was so lonely in\nthe world without thee.\"\n\nNele took his hand, touched his face.\n\n\"He hath the fever still,\" she said.\n\n\"Cut the cords,\" said Lamme; \"give me a skiff! I am alive, I am happy,\nI am healed!\"\n\nUlenspiegel cut the cords: Lamme, leaping from his bed in breeches\nof white linen, without a doublet, set to work himself to lower away\nthe skiff.\n\n\"See him,\" said Nele to Ulenspiegel: \"his hands tremble with impatience\nas they work.\"\n\nThe skiff ready, Ulenspiegel, Nele, and Lamme went down into it\nwith an oarsman, and set off towards the flyboat anchored far off in\nthe harbour.\n\n\"See the goodly flyboat,\" said Lamme, helping the oarsman.\n\nOn the fresh morning sky, coloured like crystal gilded by the rays\nof the young sun, the flyboat showed up her hull and her elegant masts.\n\nWhile Lamme rowed:\n\n\"Tell us now how didst find her again,\" asked Ulenspiegel.\n\nLamme replied, speaking in jerks:\n\n\"I was sleeping, already much better. All at once a dull noise. A\npiece of wood struck the ship. A skiff. A sailor hurries up at the\nnoise: 'Who goes there?' A soft voice, her voice, my son, her voice,\nher sweet voice: 'Friends.' Then a deeper voice: 'Long live the\nBeggar: the commander of the flyboat Johannah to speak with Lamme\nGoedzak.' The sailor drops the ladder. The moon was shining. I see a\nman's shape coming up on to the deck: strong hips, round knees, wide\npelvis; I say to myself: 'a pretended man': I feel as it might be\na rose opening and touching my cheek: her mouth, my son, and I hear\nher saying to me, she--dost thou follow?--herself, covering me with\nkisses and with tears: 'twas liquid perfumed fire falling on my body:\n'I know I am sinning; but I love thee, my husband! I have sworn before\nGod: I am breaking my oath, my man, my poor man! I have come often\nwithout daring to come nigh thee; the sailor at last allowed me:\nI dressed thy wound, thou knewest me not; but I have healed thee;\nbe not wroth, my man! I have followed thee, but I am afraid; he is\nupon this ship, let me go; if he saw me he would curse me and I should\nburn in the everlasting fire!' She kissed me again, weeping and happy,\nand went away in spite of me, despite my tears: thou hadst bound me\nhand and foot, my son, but now....\"\n\nAnd saying this he bent mightily to his oars: 'twas like the taut\nstring of a bow that launches the arrow forthright.\n\nAs they approached the flyboat, Lamme said:\n\n\"There she is, upon the deck, playing the viol, my darling wife with\nher hair of golden brown, with the brown eyes, the cheeks still fresh\nand young, the bare round arms, the white hands. Leap onward, skiff,\nover the sea!\"\n\nThe captain of the flyboat, seeing the skiff coming up and Lamme\nrowing like a demon, had a ladder dropped from the deck. When Lamme\nwas by it, he leapt from the skiff on to the ladder at the risk of\ntumbling into the sea, thrusting the skiff three fathoms behind him\nand more; and climbing like a cat up to the deck, ran to his wife,\nwho swooning with joy, kissed and embraced him, saying:\n\n\"Lamme! come not to take me: I have sworn to God, but I love\nthee. Ah! dear husband!\"\n\nNele cried out:\n\n\"It is Calleken Huybrechts, the pretty Calleken.\"\n\n\"'Tis I,\" said she, \"but alas! the hour of noon has gone by for\nmy beauty.\"\n\nAnd she seemed wretched.\n\n\"What hast thou done?\" said Lamme: \"what became of thee? Why didst\nthou leave me? Why wilt thou leave me now?\"\n\n\"Listen,\" said she, \"and be not wroth; I will tell thee: knowing\nthat all monks are men of God I confided in one of them: his name\nwas Broer Cornelis Adriaensen.\"\n\nHearing which Lamme:\n\n\"What!\" said he, \"that wicked hypocrite who had a sewer mouth, full\nof filth and dirt, and spoke of naught but spilling the blood of the\nReformed; what! that praiser of the Inquisition and the edicts! Ah,\nit was a blackguardly good-for-naught rascal!\"\n\nCalleken said:\n\n\"Do not insult the man of God.\"\n\n\"The man of God!\" said Lamme, \"I know him; 'twas a man of filth\nand foulness. Wretched fate! my beautiful Calleken fallen into the\nhands of this lascivious monk! Come not near me, I will kill thee:\nand I that loved her so much! my poor deceived heart that was all\nher own! What dost thou come hither for? Why didst thou tend me? thou\nshouldst have left me to die. Begone, thou; I would see thee no more,\nbegone, or I fling thee in the sea. My knife!...\"\n\nShe, embracing him:\n\n\"Lamme,\" said she, \"my husband, weep not: I am not what thou deemest:\nI have not belonged to this monk.\"\n\n\"Thou liest,\" said Lamme, weeping and grinding his teeth both at the\nsame time. \"Ah! I was never jealous, and now I am. Sad passion, anger,\nand love, the need to slay and embrace. Begone, thou! no, stay! I\nwas so good to her! Murder is master in me. My knife! Oh! this burns,\ndevours, gnaws; thou laughest at me....\n\nShe embraced him weeping, gentle and submissive.\n\n\"Aye,\" said he, \"I am a fool in my anger: aye, thou didst guard\nmy honour, that honour a man is mad enough to hang on a woman's\nskirts. So it was for that thou wast wont to pick out thy sweetest\nsmiles to ask me leave to go to the sermon with thy she-friends.\"\n\n\"Let me speak,\" said the woman, embracing him. \"May I die on the\ninstant if I deceive thee!\"\n\n\"Die, then,\" said Lamme, \"for thou art going to lie.\"\n\n\"Listen to me,\" said she.\n\n\"Speak or speak not,\" said he, \"'tis all one to me.\"\n\n\"Broer Adriaensen,\" she said, \"passed for a good preacher; I went to\nhear him: he set the ecclesiastic and celibate estate above all others\nas being more proper to win paradise for the faithful. His eloquence\nwas great and fiery: several wives of good repute, of whom I was one,\nand in especial a goodly number of widow women and girls, had their\nminds troubled by it. The estate of celibacy being so perfect, he\nenjoined upon us to dwell therein: we swore thenceforward no longer\nto be spouses....\"\n\n\"Save to him, no doubt,\" said Lamme, weeping.\n\n\"Be silent,\" said she, angry.\n\n\"Go to,\" said he, \"finish: thou hast fetched me a bitter blow;\nI shall never be whole of it.\"\n\n\"Yea,\" said she, \"my man, when I shall be always with thee.\"\n\nAnd she would fain have embraced and kissed him, but he repulsed her.\n\n\"The widows,\" said she, \"swore between his hands never to marry again.\"\n\nAnd Lamme listened to her, lost in his jealous musing.\n\nCalleken, shamefaced, went on:\n\n\"He desired,\" she said, \"to have no penitents save young and beauteous\nwives or maids: the others he sent back to their own cur\u00e9s. He\nestablished an order of devotees, making us all swear to have no other\nconfessors but himself only: I swore it; my companions, more initiate\nthan I, asked me if I was fain to be instructed in the Holy Discipline\nand the Holy Penance: I wished it. There was at Bruges, at the Stone\nCutters' Quay, by the convent of the Franciscan friars, a house dwelt\nin by a woman called Calle de Najage, who gave girls instruction\nand lodging, for a gold carolus by the month: Broer Cornelis could\nenter her house without being seen to leave his cloister. It was to\nthis house I went, into a little chamber where he was alone: there\nhe ordered me to tell him all my natural and carnal inclinations: at\nfirst I dared not; but in the end I gave way, wept, and told him all.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" wept Lamme, \"and this swine monk thus received thy sweet\nconfession.\"\n\n\"He still told me, and this is true, my husband, that above earthly\nmodesty is a celestial modesty, through which we make unto God\nthe sacrifice of our earthly shames, and that thus we avow to our\nconfessors all our secret desires, and are then worthy to receive\nthe Holy Discipline and the Holy Penance.\n\n\"In the end he made me strip naked before him, to receive upon my body,\nwhich had sinned, the too-light chastisement of my faults. One day\nhe made me unclothe myself; I fainted when I must let my body linen\nfall: he revived me with salts and flasks.--''Tis well for this time,\ndaughter,' said he, 'come back in two days' time and bring a rod.' That\nwent on for long without ever ... I swear it before God and all his\nsaints ... my man ... understand me ... look at me ... see if I lie:\nI remained pure and faithful ... I loved thee.\"\n\n\"Poor sweet body,\" said Lamme, \"O stain upon thy marriage robe!\"\n\n\"Lamme,\" said she, \"he spoke in the name of God and of our Holy\nMother Church; was I not to listen to him? I loved thee always,\nbut I had sworn to the Virgin, by dreadful oaths, to deny myself to\nthee: yet I was weak, weak to thee. Dost thou recall the hostelry\nof Bruges? I was at the house of Calle de Najage thou didst pass by\nupon thine ass with Ulenspiegel. I followed thee; I had a goodly sum\nof money; I spent nothing ever for myself. I saw thee an hungered:\nmy heart pulled towards thee, I had pity and love.\"\n\n\"Where is he now?\" asked Ulenspiegel.\n\nCalleken replied:\n\n\"After an inquiry ordered by the magistrate and an investigation\nof evil men, Broer Andriaensen must needs leave Bruges, and took\nrefuge in Antwerp. They told me on the flyboat that my man had made\nhim prisoner.\"\n\n\"What!\" said Lamme, \"this monk I am fattening is....\"\n\n\"He,\" answered Calleken, hiding her face.\n\n\"A hatchet! a hatchet!\" said Lamme, \"let me kill him, let me auction\nhis fat, the lascivious he-goat! Quick, let us back to the ship. The\nskiff! where is the skiff?\"\n\nNele said to him:\n\n\"'Tis a foul cruelty to kill or to wound a prisoner.\"\n\n\"Thou lookest on me with a cruel eye; wouldst thou prevent me?\" said\nhe.\n\n\"Aye,\" said she.\n\n\"Well, then,\" said Lamme, \"I will do him no hurt: let me only fetch\nhim out from his cage. The skiff! where is the skiff?\"\n\nThey climbed down into it speedily; Lamme made haste to row, weeping\nthe while.\n\n\"Thou art sad, husband?\" said Calleken to him.\n\n\"Nay,\" said he, \"I am glad: doubtless thou wilt never leave me again?\"\n\n\"Never!\" said she.\n\n\"Thou wast pure and faithful, thou sayest; but, sweet, my darling,\nbeloved Calleken, I lived but to find thee, and lo, now, thanks to this\nmonk, there will be poison in all our happiness, poison of jealousy\n... as soon as I am sad or but only tired, I shall see thee naked,\nsubmitting thy lovely body to that infamous flagellation. The spring\ntime of our loves was mine, but the summer was for him; the autumn\nwill be gray, soon will come the winter to bury my faithful love.\"\n\n\"Thou art weeping?\" said she.\n\n\"Aye,\" quoth he, \"what is past can never come again.\"\n\nThen Nele said:\n\n\"If Calleken was faithful, she ought to leave thee alone for thy\nill words.\"\n\n\"He knoweth not how I love him,\" said Calleken.\n\n\"Dost thou say true?\" cried Lamme; \"come, darling; come, my wife;\nthere is no longer gray autumn nor winter that diggeth graves.\"\n\nAnd he seemed cheerful, and they came to the ship.\n\nUlenspiegel gave Lamme the keys of the cage, and he opened it; he\ntried to pull the monk out on the deck by the ear, but he could not;\nhe tried to fetch him out sideways, he could not do that, either.\n\n\"We must break all; the capon is fattened,\" said he.\n\nThe monk then came forth, rolling about big daunted eyes, holding\nhis paunch with both hands, and fell down on his seat because of a\ngreat wave that passed beneath the ship.\n\nAnd Lamme, speaking to the monk:\n\n\"Wilt thou still say, 'big man'? Thou art bigger than I. Who made\nthee seven meals a day? I. Whence cometh it, bawler, that now thou\nart quieter, milder towards the poor Beggars?\"\n\nAnd continuing further:\n\n\"If thou dost stay another year encaged, thou wilt not be able to\ncome out again: thy cheeks quiver like pork jelly when thou dost move:\nthou criest no longer already; soon thou wilt not be able to breathe.\"\n\n\"Hold thy peace, big man,\" said the monk.\n\n\"Big man,\" said Lamme, becoming furious; \"I am Lamme Goedzak, thou art\nBroer Dikzak, Vetzak, Leugenzak, Slokkenzak, Wulpszak, the friar big\nsack, grease sack, lying sack, cram sack, lust sack: thou hast four\nfingers deep of fat under thy skin, thy eyes can be seen no longer:\nUlenspiegel and I would both lodge comfortably within the cathedral\nof thy belly! Thou didst call me big man; wilt thou have a mirror\nto study thy Bellyness? 'Tis I that fed thee, thou monument of flesh\nand bone. I have sworn that thou wouldst spit grease, sweat grease,\nand leave behind thee spots of grease like a candle melting in the\nsun. They say that apoplexy cometh with the seventh chin; thou hast\nfive and a half by now.\"\n\nThen to the Beggars:\n\n\"Look at this lecher! 'tis Broer Cornelis Adriaensen Rascalsen,\nof Bruges: there he preached the new modesty. His grease is his\npunishment; his grease is my work. Hear now, all ye sailors and\nsoldiers: I am about to leave you, to leave thee, thee, Ulenspiegel,\nto leave thee, too, thee, little Nele, to go to Flushing where I have\nproperty, to live there with my poor wife that I have found again. Of\nyore ye took an oath to grant me all that I might ask of you....\"\n\n\"On the word of the Beggars,\" said they.\n\n\"Then,\" said Lamme, \"look on this lecher, this Broer Adriaensen\nRascalsen of Bruges; I swore to make him die of fatness like a hog;\nconstruct a wider cage, force him to take twelve meals a day instead of\nseven; give him a rich and sugared diet: he is like an ox already; see\nthat he be like an elephant, and ye will soon see him fill the cage.\"\n\n\"We shall fatten him,\" said they.\n\n\"And now,\" went on Lamme, speaking to the monk, \"I bid thee also adieu,\nrascal, thee whom I cause to be fed monkishly instead of having thee\nhanged: grow in grease and in apoplexy.\"\n\nThen taking his wife Calleken in his arms:\n\n\"Look, growl or bellow, I take her from thee; thou shalt whip her\nnever more.\"\n\nBut the monk, falling in a fury and speaking to Calleken:\n\n\"Thou art going away then, carnal woman, to the bed of lust! Aye,\nthou goest without pity for the poor martyr for the word of God, that\ntaught thee the holy, sweet, celestial discipline. Be accursed! May no\npriest give thee absolution; may earth be burning underneath thy feet;\nmay sugar be salt to thee; may beef be as dead dog to thee; may thy\nbread be ashes; may the sun be ice to thee, and the snow hell fire;\nmay thy child-bearing be accursed; may thy children be detestable;\nmay they have the bodies of apes, pigs' heads greater than their\nbellies; mayst thou suffer, weep, moan in this world and in the other,\nin the hell that awaits thee, the hell of sulphur and bitumen kindled\nfor females such as thou art. Thou didst refuse my fatherly love:\nbe thrice accursed by the Blessed Trinity, seven times accursed by\nthe candlesticks of the Ark; may confession be to thee damnation;\nmay the Host to thee be mortal poison, and may every paving stone in\nthe church rise up to crush thee and say to thee: 'This woman is the\nfornicator, this woman is accursed, this woman is damned'.\"\n\nAnd Lamme, rejoicing, jumping for joy, said:\n\n\"She was faithful; he said it, the monk: hurrah for Calleken!\"\n\nBut she, weeping and trembling:\n\n\"Remove it,\" she said, \"my man, remove this curse from over me. I\nsee hell! Remove the curse!\"\n\n\"Take off the curse,\" said Lamme.\n\n\"I will not, big man,\" rejoined the monk.\n\nAnd the woman remained all pale and swooning, and on her knees with\nhands folded she besought Broer Adriaensen.\n\nAnd Lamme said to the monk:\n\n\"Take off thy curse, else thou shalt hang, and if the rope breaks\nbecause of thy weight, thou shalt be hanged again and again until\ndeath ensues.\"\n\n\"Hanged and hanged again,\" said the Beggars.\n\n\"Then,\" said the monk to Calleken, \"go, wanton, go with this big man;\ngo, I lift my curse from thee, but God and all the saints will have\ntheir eyes upon thee; go with this big man, go.\"\n\nAnd he held his peace, sweating and puffing.\n\nSuddenly Lamme cried out:\n\n\"He puffs, he puffs! I see the sixth chin; at the seventh 'tis\napoplexy! And now,\" said he to the Beggars:\n\n\"I commend you to God, thou Ulenspiegel; to God, you all my good\nfriends, to God, thou Nele; to God the holy inspirer of liberty:\nI can do no more for her cause.\"\n\nThen having given all and taken from all the kiss of parting, he said\nto his wife Calleken:\n\n\"Come, it is the hour for lawful loves.\"\n\nWhile the boat was slipping over the water, carrying off Lamme and\nhis beloved, he in the stern, soldiers, sailors, and cabin boys all\ncalled out, waving their caps: \"Adieu, brother; adieu, Lamme; adieu,\nbrother, brother and friend.\"\n\nAnd Nele said to Ulenspiegel, taking a tear from out the corner of\nhis eye with her dainty finger:\n\n\"Thou art sad, my beloved?\"\n\n\"He was a good fellow,\" said he.\n\n\"Ah!\" said she, \"this war will never end; shall we be forced to live\nforever in blood and in tears?\"\n\n\"Let us seek out the Seven,\" said Ulenspiegel: \"it draws nigh, the\nhour of deliverance.\"\n\nFollowing Lamme's behest, the Beggars fattened the monk in his\ncage. When he was set at liberty, in consideration of ransom,\nhe weighed three hundred and seventeen pounds and five ounces,\nFlemish weight.\n\nAnd he died prior of his convent.\n\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nAt this time the States General assembled at The Hague to pass\njudgment upon Philip, King of Spain, Count of Flanders, of Holland,\netc., according to the charters and privileges consented to by him.\n\nAnd the clerk of the court spake as follows:\n\n\"It is to all men of common knowledge that a prince of any land so\never is established by God as sovereign and chief of his subjects that\nhe may defend them and preserve them from all wrong, oppression, and\nviolence, even as a shepherd is ordained for the defence and keeping of\nhis sheep. It is in like manner known that subjects are not created by\nGod for the use of the prince, to be obedient unto him in whatsoever\nhe commandeth, be it seemly or unseemly, just or unjust, nor to serve\nin the manner of slaves. But the prince is a prince for his subjects,\nwithout which he could not be, to govern them in accordance with right\nand reason, to maintain and love them as a father doth his children,\nas a shepherd doth his sheep, hazarding his life to defend them; if he\ndoth not so, he must needs be held for no prince but a tyrant. Philip\nthe king hath launched upon us, by calling up of soldiers, by bulls of\ncrusade and of excommunication, four armies of foreigners. What shall\nbe his punishment, by virtue of the laws and customs of the country?\"\n\n\"Let him be deposed,\" replied the States.\n\n\"Philip hath played false to his oaths: he hath forgot the services\nwe rendered him, the victories we aided him to win. Seeing that we\nwere rich, he left us to be pillaged and put to ransom by the Council\nof Spain.\"\n\n\"Let him be deposed as ungrateful and a robber,\" replied the States.\n\n\"Philip,\" the clerk went on, \"placed in the most powerful cities\nof these countries new bishops, endowing and presenting them with\nthe goods of the greatest abbeys; and by the help of these men he\nintroduced the Spanish Inquisition.\"\n\n\"Let him be deposed as a murderer, the squanderer of others' wealth,\"\nreplied the States.\n\n\"The nobles of these countries, seeing this tyranny, presented in the\nyear 1566 a request wherein they entreated the sovereign to moderate\nthe rigour of his edicts and in especial those which concerned the\nInquisition: he consistently refused this.\"\n\n\"Let him be deposed as a tiger abandoned and obstinate in his cruelty,\"\nreplied the States.\n\nThe clerk continued:\n\n\"Philip is strongly suspected of having, through the intermediary\nof his Council of Spain, secretly inspired the image-breakings and\nthe sacking of churches, in order to be able, under the pretext\nof suppressing crime and disorder, to send foreign armies to march\nagainst us.\"\n\n\"Let him be deposed as an instrument of death,\" replied the States.\n\n\"At Antwerp Philip caused the inhabitants to be massacred, ruined\nthe Flemish merchants and the foreign merchants. He and his Council\nof Spain gave a certain Rhoda, a notorious scoundrel, the right by\nsecret instructions to declare himself the head of the pillagers, to\nharvest the booty, to employ his name, the name of Philip the king, to\ncounterfeit his seals and counterseals, and to comport himself at his\ngovernor and his lieutenant. The royal letters, which were intercepted\nand are in our hands, prove this to be the fact. All took place with\nhis consent and after deliberation in the Council of Spain. Read his\nletters; therein he praises the feat of Antwerp, acknowledges that he\nhath received a signal service, promises to reward it, enjoins Rhoda\nand the other Spaniards to continue to walk in this path of glory.\"\n\n\"Let him be deposed as a robber, pillager, and murderer,\" replied\nthe States.\n\n\"We ask for nothing more than the maintenance of our privileges, a\nsincere and assured peace, a moderate freedom, especially with regard\nto religion which principally concerns God and man's own conscience:\nwe had nothing from Philip but deceitful treaties serving to sow\ndiscord between the provinces, to subdue them one after another and\nto treat them in the same way as the Indies, by pillage, confiscation,\nexecutions, and the Inquisition.\"\n\n\"Let him be deposed as an assassin premeditating the murder of a\ncountry,\" replied the States.\n\n\"He made the country bleed through the Duke of Alba and his catchpolls,\nthrough Medina-Coeli, Requesens, the traitors of the Councils of State\nand of the provinces; he enjoined a vigorous and bloody severity upon\nDon Juan and Alexander Farn\u00e8se, Prince of Parma (as may be seen by his\nintercepted letters); he set the ban of the empire upon Monseigneur\nd'Orange, paid the hire of three assassins before paying a fourth;\nerected castles and fortresses among us; had men burned alive, women\nand girls buried alive; inherited their goods, strangled Montigny,\nde Berghes, and other lords, despite his kingly word; killed his\nson Carlos; poisoned the Prince of Ascoly, whom he made espouse\nDo\u00f1a Eufrasia, with child by himself, in order to enrich with his\nestates the bastard that was to come; launched an edict against us\nthat declared us all traitors, that had forfeited our bodies and\nour wealth, and committed the crime unheard of in a Christian land,\nof confounding innocent and guilty.\"\n\n\"By all laws, rights, and privileges, let him be deposed,\" replied\nthe States.\n\nAnd the king's seals were broken.\n\nAnd the sun shown on land and sea, gilding the ripened ears, mellowing\nthe grape, casting pearls on every wave, the adornment of the bride\nof the Netherlands, Liberty.\n\nThen the Prince of Orange, being at Delft, was stricken down by\na fourth assassin, with three bullets in his breast. And he died,\nfollowing his motto: \"Calm amid the wild waves.\"\n\nHis enemies said of him that to thwart King Philip, and not hoping\nto rule over the Southern Low Countries, which were Catholic, he had\noffered them by a secret treaty to Monseigneur Monsieur Sa Grande\nAltesse of Anjou. But Anjou was not born to beget the babe Belgium\nupon Liberty, who loveth not perverse amours.\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel left the fleet with Nele.\n\nAnd the fatherland Belgium groaned beneath the yoke, fast bound\nby traitors.\n\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nThey were then in the month of the ripened grain; the air was heavy,\nthe wind was warm: the reapers, both men and women, could gather in\nat their ease in the fields, under the free sky, upon a free soil,\nthe corn they had sown.\n\nFrisia, Drenthe, Overyssel, Guelderland, North Brabant, North and South\nHolland, Walcheren, North and South Beveland; Duiveland and Schouwen\nthat make up Zealand; all the shores of the North Sea from Knokke to\nHelder; the islands of Texel, Vieland, Ameland, Schiermonk-Oog, were,\nfrom the western Scheldt to the eastern Ems, about to be freed from the\nSpanish yoke; Maurice, the son of the Silent, was continuing the war.\n\nUlenspiegel and Nele, having their youth, their strength, and their\nbeauty, for the love and the spirit of Flanders grow never old, were\nliving snugly in the tower of Neere, waiting till, after many hard\ntrials, they could come and breathe the air of freedom upon Belgium\nthe fatherland.\n\nUlenspiegel had asked to be appointed commandant and warden of the\ntower, saying that having an eagle's eyes and a hare's ears, he could\nsee if the Spaniard would not attempt to show himself once more in\nthe delivered countries, and that in that case he would sound wacharm,\nwhich is the alarm in the speech of Flanders.\n\nThe magistrate did as Ulenspiegel wished: because of his good service\nhe was given a florin a day, two quarts of beer, beans, cheese,\nbiscuit, and three pounds of beef every week.\n\nThus Ulenspiegel and Nele lived very well by themselves two: seeing\nfrom afar, with rejoicing, the free isles of Zealand: near at hand,\nwoods, castles, fortresses, and the armed ships of the Beggars guarding\nthe coasts.\n\nAt night they often climbed up on the tower, and there, sitting on the\nplatform, they talked of hard battles and goodly loves past and to\ncome. Thence they beheld the sea, which in this time of heat surged\nand broke upon the shore in luminous waves, casting them upon the\nislands like phantoms of fire. And Nele was affrighted to see the\njack o'lanterns in the polders, for, said she, they are the souls\nof the poor dead. And all these places had been battle-fields. The\nwill o' the wisps swept out from the polders, ran along the dykes,\nthen came back into the polders as though they had no mind to abandon\nthe bodies whence they had issued.\n\nOne night Nele said to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"See how thick they are in Duiveland and how high they fly: 'tis by the\nisle of birds I see the most. Wilt thou come thither, Thyl? We shall\ntake the balsam that discloseth things hid from the eyes of mortals.\"\n\nUlenspiegel answered her:\n\n\"If it is the same balsam that wafted me to that great sabbath,\nI trow in it no more than a hollow dream.\"\n\n\"Thou must not,\" said Nele, \"deny the potency of charms. Come,\nUlenspiegel.\"\n\n\"I shall come.\"\n\nThe next day he asked the magistrate that a clear-sighted and trusty\nsoldier should take his place, to guard the tower and keep watch over\nthe country.\n\nAnd with Nele he went his way to the isle of birds.\n\nGoing across fields and dykes, they beheld little green lush islets,\nbetween which ran the sea water; and upon the slopes of green sward\nthat came down to the very dunes an immense concourse of plovers, of\nsea mews and sea swallows, that stayed motionless and made the islets\nall white with their bodies; overhead circled and flew thousands\nof the same. The ground was full of nests: Ulenspiegel, stooping\nto pick up an egg upon the way, saw a sea mew come flitting to him,\nuttering a cry. At his appeal there came more than a hundred others,\ncrying with grief and fear, hovering above Ulenspiegel and over the\nneighbour nests, but they did not venture to come close to him.\n\n\"Ulenspiegel,\" said Nele, \"these birds beg grace for their eggs.\"\n\nThen falling a-tremble, she said:\n\n\"I am afeared; there is the sun setting; the sky is white, the stars\nawaken; 'tis the spirits' hour. See these red exhalations, gliding\nalong the earth; Thyl, my beloved, what monster of hell is thus opening\nhis fiery mouth in the mist? See from the side of Philip's land, where\nthe butcher king twice for his cruel ambition slaughtered so many poor\nmen, see the dancing will-o'-the-wisps: 'tis the night when the souls\nof poor folk slain in battle quit the cold limbo of purgatory to come\nand be warmed again in the soft air of the earth: 'tis the hour when\nthou mayst ask aught of Christ, who is the God of good magicians.\"\n\n\"The ashes beat upon my heart,\" said Ulenspiegel. \"If Christ could\nshow me these Seven whose ashes cast to the wind were to make Flanders\nand the whole world happy!\"\n\n\"Man of little faith,\" said Nele, \"thou wilt see them by virtue of\nthe balsam.\"\n\n\"Perchance,\" said Ulenspiegel, pointing to Sirius with a finger,\n\"if some spirit descends from the cold star.\"\n\nAt his movement a will-o'-the-wisp flitting about him perched on his\nfinger, and the more he sought to be rid of it, the tighter it clung.\n\nNele trying to set Ulenspiegel free, she, too, had her will-o'-the-wisp\non the tip of her hand.\n\nUlenspiegel, striking at his, said:\n\n\"Answer! art thou the spirit of a Beggar or of a Spaniard? If thou be\nthe soul of a Beggar, depart into paradise; if the soul of a Spaniard,\nreturn into hell whence thou comest.\"\n\nNele said to him:\n\n\"Do not insult souls, were they even the souls of butchers.\"\n\nAnd making the will-o'-the-wisp dance on her finger tip:\n\n\"Wisp,\" said she, \"dear wisp, what tidings dost thou bring us from\nthe country of souls? What are they employed in over there? Do they\neat and drink, since they have no mouths? for thou hast none, darling\nwisp! or do they indeed take human shape only in the blessed paradise?\"\n\n\"Canst thou,\" said Ulenspiegel, \"waste time in this fashion conversing\nwith this wretched flame that hath neither ears to hear thee with\nnor mouth to answer thee withal?\"\n\nBut without heeding him:\n\n\"Wisp,\" said Nele, \"reply by dancing, for I will ask thee three times:\nonce in the name of God, once in the name of Madame the Virgin,\nand once in the name of the elemental spirits that are messengers\n'twixt God and man.\"\n\nAnd she did so, and the wisp danced three times.\n\nThen Nele said to Ulenspiegel:\n\n\"Take off thy clothes; I shall do the same: here is the silver box\nin which is the balsam of vision.\"\n\n\"'Tis all one to me,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nThen being unclad and anointed with the balsam of vision, they lay\ndown beside each other naked on the grass.\n\nThe sea mews were plaining; the thunder was growling dull in the\ncloud where the lightning gleamed; the moon scarce displayed between\ntwo clouds the golden horns of her crescent; the will-o'-the-wisps on\nUlenspiegel and Nele betook themselves off to dance with the others\nin the meadow.\n\nSuddenly Ulenspiegel and Nele were caught up in the mighty hand\nof a giant who threw them into the air like children's balloons,\ncaught them again, rolled them one upon the other and kneaded them\nbetween his hands, threw them into the water pools between the hills\nand pulled them out again full of seaweed. Then carrying them thus\nthrough space, he sang with a voice that woke all the sea mews\nunderneath with affright:\n\n\n    \"That vermin, crawling, biting,\n    With squinting glances tries\n    To read the sacred writing\n    We hide from all men's eyes.\n\n    \"Read, flea, the secret rare;\n    Read, louse, the sacred term\n    That heaven, earth and air\n    With seven nails hold firm.\"\n\n\nAnd in very deed, Ulenspiegel and Nele saw upon the sward, in the\nair and in the sky, seven tablets of shining brass fastened thereto\nby seven flaming nails.\n\nUpon the tablets there was written:\n\n\n    Amid the dung May saps arise;\n    If Seven's ill, yet Seven's well;\n    The diamond came from coal, they tell;\n    From foolish teachers, pupils wise--\n    If Seven's ill, yet Seven's well.\n\n\nAnd the giant walked on followed by all the will-o'-the-wisps, which\nsaid, chirping and singing like grasshoppers:\n\n\n    \"Look well at him, 'tis their Grand Master.\n      The Pope of popes and Lord of lords,\n    Can change great C\u00e6sar to a pastor:\n      Look well at him, he's made of boards.\"\n\n\nSuddenly his features changed; he seemed thinner, sadder, taller. In\none hand he held a sceptre and a sword in the other. And his name\nwas Pride.\n\nAnd casting Nele and Ulenspiegel down upon the ground he said:\n\n\"I am God.\"\n\nThen close by him, riding on a goat, there appeared a ruddy girl,\nwith bared bosom, her robe open, and a lively sparkling eye: her\nname was Lust; came then an old Jewess picking up the shells of\nsea mews' eggs: she had Avarice to name; and a greedy, gluttonous\nmonk, devouring chitterlings, stuffing sausages, and champing his\njaws continually like the sow upon which he was mounted: this was\nGluttony; next came Idleness dragging her legs, pallid and puffy,\nwith dulled eyes, and Anger driving her before her with strokes of\na goad. Idleness, woebegone, was bemoaning herself, and all in tears\nfell down upon her knees; then came lean Envy, with a viper's head and\npike's teeth, biting Idleness because she was too much at her ease,\nAnger because she was too vivacious, Gluttony because he was too well\nstuffed, Lust because she was too red, Avarice for the eggshells,\nPride because he had a purple robe and a crown. And all around danced\nthe will-o'-the-wisps.\n\nAnd speaking with the voices of men, of women, of girls and plaintive\nchildren, they said, moaning and groaning:\n\n\"Pride, father of ambition, Anger, spring of cruelty, ye slew us on\nthe battle-field, in prisons and with torments, to keep your sceptres\nand your crowns! Envy, thou didst destroy in the bud many high and\nuseful ideas; we are the souls of persecuted inventors: Avarice,\nthou didst coin into gold the blood of the poor common folk; we\nare the souls of thy victims; Lust, thou mate and sister of murder,\nthat didst give birth to Nero, to Messalina, to Philip King of Spain,\nthou dost buy virtue and pay for corruption; we are the souls of the\ndead: Idleness and Gluttony, ye befoul the world, ye must be swept\nfrom out of it; we are the souls of the dead.\"\n\nAnd a voice was heard saying:\n\n\n    \"Amid the dung May saps arise;\n    If Seven's ill, yet Seven's well;\n    For foolish teachers, pupils wise;\n    To win the coal and ashes, too,\n    What is the wandering louse to do?\"\n\n\nAnd the will-o'-the-wisps said:\n\n\"The fire, 'tis we, vengeance for the bygone tears, the woes of the\npeople; vengeance for the lords that hunted human game upon their\nlands; vengeance for the fruitless battles, the blood spilt in prisons,\nmen burned and women and girls buried alive; vengeance for the fettered\nand bleeding past. The fire, 'tis we: we are the souls of the dead.\"\n\nAt these words the Seven were changed to wooden statues, while keeping\nevery point of their former shape.\n\nAnd a voice said:\n\n\"Ulenspiegel, burn the wood.\"\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel turning towards the will-o'-the-wisps:\n\n\"Ye that are fire,\" said he, \"perform your office.\"\n\nAnd the will-o'-the-wisps in a crowd surrounded the Seven, which\nburned and were reduced to ashes.\n\nAnd a river of blood ran down.\n\nAnd from out the ashes rose up seven other shapes; the first said:\n\n\"Pride was I named; I am called Noble Spirit.\" The others spake in the\nsame fashion, and Ulenspiegel and Nele saw from Avarice come forth\nEconomy; from Anger, Vivacity; from Gluttony, Appetite; from Envy,\nEmulation; and from Idleness, the Reverie of poets and sages. And Lust\nupon her goat was transformed to a beautiful woman whose name was Love.\n\nAnd the will-o'-the-wisps danced about them in a happy round.\n\nThen Ulenspiegel and Nele heard a thousand voices of concealed men\nand women, sonorous and laughing voices that sang with a sound as\nof castanets:\n\n\n    \"When over land and sea shall reign\n      In form transfigured all these seven,\n      Men, boldly raise your heads to heaven;\n    The Golden Age has come again.\"\n\n\nAnd Ulenspiegel said: \"The spirits mock us.\"\n\nAnd a mighty hand seized Nele by the arm and hurled her into space.\n\nAnd the spirits chanted:\n\n\n    \"When the north\n    Shall kiss the west,\n    Ruin shall end:\n    The girdle seek.\"\n\n\n\"Alas!\" said Ulenspiegel: \"north, west, and girdle. Ye speak obscurely,\nye Spirits.\"\n\nAnd they sang, laughing:\n\n\n    \"North, 'tis the Netherland:\n    Belgium is the west;\n    Girdle is alliance\n    Girdle is friendship.\"\n\n\n\"Ye are nowise fools, Messieurs the Spirits,\" said Ulenspiegel.\n\nAnd they sang once more, grinning:\n\n\n        \"The girdle, poor man\n    Between Netherlands and Belgium\n    Will be good friendship\n        And fair alliance.\n\n              \"Met raedt\n              En daedt;\n              Met doodt\n              En bloodt.\n\n        \"Alliance of counsel\n              And of deeds,\n              Of death\n              And blood\n\n        \"If need were,\n        Were there no Scheldt,\n      Poor man, no Scheldt.\"\n\n\n\"Alas!\" said Ulenspiegel, \"such then is our life of anguish: men's\ntears and the laughter of destiny.\"\n\n\n      \"Alliance of counsel\n        And of death,\n      Were there no Scheldt.\"\n\n\nreplied the spirits, grinning.\n\nAnd a mighty hand seized Ulenspiegel and hurled him into space.\n\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nNele, as she fell, rubbed her eyes and saw naught save the sun rising\namid gilded mists, the tips of the blades of grass all golden also\nand the sunrays yellowing the plumage of the sea mews that slept,\nbut soon awakened.\n\nThen Nele looked on herself, perceived that she was naked, and clothed\nherself in haste; then she beheld Ulenspiegel naked also and covered\nhim over; thinking him asleep, she shook him, but he moved no more than\na man dead; she was taken with terror. \"Have I,\" she said to herself,\n\"have I slain my beloved with this balsam of vision? I will die,\ntoo! Ah! Thyl, awaken! He is marble cold.\"\n\nUlenspiegel did not awake. Two nights and a day passed by, and Nele,\nfevered with anguish, watched by Ulenspiegel her beloved.\n\nIt was the beginning of the second day, and Nele heard the sound of\na bell, and saw approaching a peasant carrying a shovel: behind him,\nwax taper in hand, walked a burgomaster and two aldermen, the cur\u00e9\nof Stavenisse, and a beadle holding a sunshade over him.\n\nThey were going, they said, to administer the holy sacrament of extreme\nunction to the valiant Jacobsen who was a Beggar by constraint and\nfear, but who, now the danger was past, returned into the bosom of\nthe Holy Roman Church to die.\n\nPresently they found themselves face to face with Nele weeping,\nand perceived the body of Ulenspiegel stretched out upon the turf,\ncovered with his clothes. Nele went upon her knees.\n\n\"Daughter,\" said the burgomaster, \"what makest thou by this dead man?\"\n\nNot daring to lift her eyes she replied:\n\n\"I pray for my friend here fallen as though smitten by lightning:\nI am all alone now and I am fain to die, too.\"\n\nThe cur\u00e9 then puffing with pleasure:\n\n\"Ulenspiegel the Beggar is dead,\" he said, \"God be praised! Peasant,\nmake haste and dig a grave; strip off his clothes before he be buried.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Nele, standing straight up, \"they are not to be taken\nfrom him, he would be cold in the earth.\"\n\n\"Dig the grave,\" said the cur\u00e9 to the peasant who carried the shovel.\n\n\"I consent,\" said Nele, all in tears; \"there are no worms in sand that\nis full of chalk, and he will remain whole and goodly, my beloved.\"\n\nAnd all distraught, she bent over Ulenspiegel's body, and kissed him\nwith tears and sobbing.\n\nThe burgomaster, the aldermen, and the peasant were filled with pity,\nbut the cur\u00e9 ceased not to repeat, rejoicing: \"The great Beggar is\ndead, God be praised!\"\n\nThen the peasant digged the grave and placed Ulenspiegel therein and\ncovered him with sand.\n\nAnd the cur\u00e9 said the prayers for the dead above the grave: all kneeled\ndown around it; suddenly there was a great upheaving under the soil\nand Ulenspiegel, sneezing and shaking the sand out of his hair,\nseized the cur\u00e9 by the throat:\n\n\"Inquisitor!\" said he, \"thou dost thrust me into the earth alive in\nmy sleep. Where is Nele? hast thou buried her, too? Who art thou?\"\n\nThe cur\u00e9 cried out:\n\n\"The great Beggar returneth into this world. Lord God! receive\nmy soul!\"\n\nAnd he took to flight like a stag before the hounds.\n\nNele came to Ulenspiegel.\n\n\"Kiss me, my darling,\" said he.\n\nThen he looked round him again; the two peasants had fled like the\ncur\u00e9, and had flung down shovel and chair and sunshade to run the\nbetter; the burgomaster and the aldermen, holding their ears with\nfright, were whimpering on the turf.\n\nUlenspiegel went up to them, and shaking them:\n\n\"Can any bury,\" said he, \"Ulenspiegel the spirit and Nele the heart\nof Mother Flanders? She, too, may sleep, but not die. No! Come, Nele.\"\n\nAnd he went forth with her, singing his sixth song, but no man knoweth\nwhere he sang the last one of all.\n\n\n\n                                THE END\n\n\n     THE LYRICS IN THIS VERSION OF ULENSPIEGEL HAVE BEEN SPECIALLY\n                  TRANSLATED BY MR. JOHN HERON LEPPER","title":"The Legend of Ulenspiegel, Volume 2 (of 2): And Lamme Goedzak, and their Adventures Heroical, Joyous and Glorious in the Land of Flanders and Elsewhere","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":90880}