Chapter II: Part 2

"That is all very well, Master Bredael," said one of the townsmen, "but 'tis not plain drinking that puts us all into so deep a sleep. I speak of these things with knowledge, I who have drunk wine freely all my life, and hope still so to do with relish to the end of my days. There is something else to it, devilry and evil spells, or so I think. Come hither, Pieter Gans, come hither and talk to us somewhat, and if thou know anything, bring light to this dark matter."

"Alas, alas!" said Pieter Gans, his head wagging and his teeth chattering (for he was afraid, poor fellow), "alas, alas! I know nothing, my good friends."

"Nay," said the man, "but thou dost know something of it, for I see thy head shaking and thy teeth chattering."

But at this point the Dean confronted Gans:

"Wicked Christian," said he, "I can see well enough thou hast had commerce with the devil, to the great despite of all these good men. Confess thy sin with all humility, and we will accord thee such grace as may be, but if thou deny it, thou shalt be punished with hot oil."

"Ah," said Pieter Gans in tears, "'tis as I said; I shall be burnt, dear God! Blaeskaek, where art thou, my good friend? Give me thy help. Alas, alas!"

But Blaeskaek had gone off in a hurry from fear of the holy Fathers.

"Ah," said Pieter Gans, "see how the traitor deserts me when danger threatens!"

"Speak," said the very reverend Father.

"Yes, Master Dean," said Pieter Gans, weeping and wailing, "I will tell you the whole story, without keeping back anything.... Master!" he cried when he had come to the end of his recital, "if you will not punish me too heavily, Master, I will give all my poor savings as a perpetual gift to the Church. I am a true Christian, that I vow, and no heretic. Moreover, I wish not to die until I have had sufficient time to do long and full penance. But have me not boiled in oil before I have had that time, I beg of you."

"As to that," answered the Dean, "we shall see. Now take us to the place where this devil is to be seen."

By that time they were close to the church, and the priest went in to get therefrom some holy water before they started. Then all the men, women, and children of the village took their way to The Horn.

There the Dean demanded to see what had been the cause of those wicked spells which had been cast over so many worthy men, and Pieter Gans, with all humility, showed him the deviling, still smiling and holding his staff of vine-branches in his hand. And all the women, after looking at him for some time, said that he was very comely for a devil.

The priest first crossed himself, then, dipping his fingers in the holy water, anointed therewith the brow, breast, and belly of the statue, which thereupon, by the grace of God, crumbled into dust, and a sorrowful voice was heard saying: "Oi moi, o phos, tethneka!"

And these words of the devil were explained by the priest to signify, in the Greek tongue: "Woe is me! Light! I die!"

XIII. Of the great wonder and astonishment of My Lord the Duke when he heard of the valour of the women of Uccle.

In the meantime the village sent to the Duke two trusty men, with a message to that high prince informing him in due order all that had occurred. These men met him already on his way to Uccle, for he had learnt by his runners the Irontooth's design, and knowing full well where he would find him was coming against him at all speed with a strong force of horsemen.

As soon as the messengers saw who it was coming along the road they went down on their knees, but the good Duke would have none of this, and made them rise and walk at his stirrup.

Before they had gone far they reached the scene of the brigands' discomfiture. At the sight of all those heaped-up bodies the Duke halted, greatly astonished and no less pleased. "And who," quoth he, "has slain all these scoundrels in this wise?"

"Our womenfolk," said one of the messengers.

"What is this thou'rt telling me?" said the Duke with a frown.

"Before God, My Lord," said the man, "I will tell you the whole story."

And so he did.

"Well," said the Duke when he had done, "who would have thought it of these good wives? I will reward them well for it."

So saying he caused the casque of the Irontooth to be taken up and carried away. This casque was to be seen for many years in the armoury of My Lord Charles, who had it guarded with the utmost care.

XIV. In what manner was instituted the Order of the Women-Archers of Uccle and of the fine reward which My Lord gave to the brave maid Wantje.

On entering Uccle the good Duke saw coming towards him a large body of people, and in their midst a man crying out in a most piteous voice: "Master! Master Priest! let me not be boiled!" To which the answer was: "We shall see."

"Whence comes all this noise?" said the Duke.

But as soon as Pieter Gans saw who it was he ran towards him and threw his arms round his horse's legs. "My Lord," he cried, "My Lord Duke, let me not be boiled!"

"And why," said the Duke, "should they boil one of my good men of Uccle?"

But the very reverend Father Claessens, stepping forward, told him the whole story with great indignation, while Pieter Gans continued to blubber alongside in a most melancholy fashion. And thereon followed such confusion, with the one weeping and groaning, the other denouncing and syllogizing, and each so vehemently, that the good Duke could not tell which to listen to.

Suddenly Wantje came forward out of the press, and, like Pieter Gans, cried: "Mercy and pity!"

"My Lord," said the maid, "this man has sinned greatly against God, but only from simpleness of mind and a natural cowardice. The devil frightened him; he submitted to the devil. Pardon him, My Lord, for our sakes."

"Maid," said the Duke, "that was well spoken, and 'tis to thee I will hearken."

But the very reverend Father: "My Lord," said he, "forgets to think of God."

"Father," said the Duke, "I am not forgetful of that duty. Nevertheless I think he takes little pleasure in watching Christian fat smoke or a good man's flesh boil, but likes rather to see men gentle and kind, and not giving their fellows penance to do. And on this day when Our Lady the Virgin has deigned to perform a miracle for our sakes I will not sadden her mother's heart by the death of a Christian. Therefore none of the accused, neither this Pieter Gans nor any other there may be, shall this time go to the stake."

On hearing this Pieter Gans burst out laughing like a madman, and began to dance and sing, crying out the while: "Praise to My Lord! I am not to be boiled. Brabant to the Good Duke!" And all the townsfolk called out after him: "Praise to My Lord!"

Then the Duke bade them be silent, and smiling:

"Well, dames," said he, "who have this night done man's work so valiantly, come hither that I may give you a man's reward. First of all, to the bravest one among you I give this great chain of gold. Which is she?"

The good women pushed Wantje forward before the Duke.

"Ah," said he, "'tis thee, sweet pleader. Wilt kiss me, though I be old?"

"Yes, My Lord," said the maid. And so she did, notwithstanding that she was a little shamefaced over it.

And the good Duke, having hung the chain round her neck, spoke further in this wise:

"As for you all, good dames, who have this night so gallantly carried arms, I institute among you a most honourable Order, under the protection of Madam Mary the Virgin, and I direct that there shall be set up in this place a staff of a good length, and that each Sunday you shall come together here and draw the bow in archery, in memory of the time when with those bows you saved the lives of your husbands and children. And there shall be a fair crown of laurel and a fair purseful of golden peters, bright and new, to be awarded annually to the best archer of the year, and brought to her on a cushion by all the others together. And this purse will dower her if she be a maid, or, if she be a wife, will stand her in good stead against a time of famine."

In this manner was instituted the Order of Women-Archers of Uccle, who still draw the bow like men every Sunday, under the protection of Our Lady the Virgin.

THE THREE SISTERS

I. Of the three noble ladies and their great beauty.

In the year of Our Lord Jesus Christ 690, lived three maidens, descended, by male issue, from the noble line of the great emperor Octavian.

Their names were Blanche, Claire, and Candide.

Though they had dedicated the flower of their maidenhead to God, it is not to be supposed that this was for lack of lovers.

For, on every day that passed, a crowd of people used to collect for nothing else than to see them go by on their way to church, and onlookers would say of them: "See what gentle eyes, see what white hands!"

More than one, besides, with his mouth watering to look at them, would say sorrowfully: "Must it be that such sweet maids as these should dedicate themselves to God, who has eleven thousand or more in his Paradise already."

"But none so fair," answered an old wheezing merchant behind them, who was drinking in the fragrance of their dresses.

And going off on his way, if the old man saw any young fellow loafing by the roadside, or lying on his belly in the grass to warm his back in the sun, he would give him a kick in the ribs, saying: "Well now, dost thou care nothing to see the finest flowers of beauty that were ever blowing?"

II. How a prince of Araby was taken with love for the youngest sister, and what came of it.

Not a few young men tried to win them in marriage, but failing in this endeavour, turned moody and pined visibly away.

Among them was a certain prince of Araby, who had himself baptized with great ceremony. And this for the sake of the youngest sister solely.

But, failing to attain his end, either by pleading or by force, set himself one morning before her door, and there let himself fall on his sword.

The maid, hearing this fair lord cry out, came down in haste and had him carried in and laid on her own bed; whereat (for he was not quite dead) he found great solace.

And when she bent over him to bathe and dress his wound, he roused what force he had left in him, kissed her on her red mouth, sighed like a man delivered from torment, and so gave up his soul happily.

But the maid was not at all pleased at this kiss, for she considered it a dishonour to her divine husband Jesus. Nevertheless she wept for the fair lord, a little.

III. Wherein it is seen how Satan persecutes those ladies who seek to escape from the world.

There were oftentimes a great crowd of suitors before the dwelling of the three ladies, some of them sighing laments, others prancing up and down on fine horses, others without uttering a word, but only looking up at the windows all the day long.

And oftentimes these men would fight together and kill one another, from jealousy. At this the ladies were saddened exceedingly.

"Ah," said the two elder to their sister, "pray for us, white Blanche, white of soul and white of body, pray for us, little one. Jesus listens readily to the prayers of such maids as thou art."

"My sisters," answered she, "I am less worthy than you, but I will pray, if you so wish it."

"Yes," said they.

Then the three sisters knelt down, and the youngest prayed in this manner:

"Kind Jesus, we have sinned against you assuredly, else you would not have let our beauty so touch these wicked men. Yes, we have indeed sinned, but, weaklings that we are, despite ourselves, Lord. Ah, grant us pardon for our great sorrow. You would have us for your own, and so indeed we have kept ourselves: our youth and beauty, mirth and sadness, vows and prayers, souls and bodies, thoughts and deeds, everything. In the morning, at noon, and at vesper-time, at all hours and all moments, do we not have you in our minds? When your bright sun rises, O beloved, and no less when your bright stars shine in your heaven, they can see us at prayer, and offering to you, not gold, frankincense, or myrrh, but our humble loves and our poor hearts. That is not enough, we know well. Dear one, teach us to do more."

Pausing here they sighed sorrowfully, all three.

"Kind Jesus," went on the youngest sister, "we know well enough the desire of these men. They think themselves brave and handsome, and hope on this account to capture our love, but they are neither handsome, nor brave, nor good, as you are, Jesus. And yours we are and shall be always, and theirs never. Will you please to love us also a little, for you alone are our comfort and joy in this sad world, Jesus? We will not be unfaithful to you in anything. Ah, let us rather die quickly, for we hunger and thirst for you. If you will, let these evil men continue to pursue us with their loves, 'twill be but delight to suffer it for your sake. Nevertheless, the mortal husband leaves not his wife in danger, nor the betrothed his bride. Are you not better than they, and will you not keep us also from the snares of the enemy? If it be not pleasing to you, do nothing, but then it may be that one day some one will steal from us our virginity, which is yours only. Ah, dear beloved, rather let us pass our lives old, ugly, leprous, and then descend into purgatory, among devils, flame, and brimstone, there to wait until you deem us pure enough at length to take us into your Paradise, where we shall be allowed to see you and love you for ever. Have pity upon us. Amen."

And having spoken thus, the poor child wept, and her sisters with her, saying: "Pity, Jesus, pity."

IV. Of the voice of the divine bridegroom, and of the horseman in silvern armour.

Suddenly they heard a low voice saying: "Take heart."

"Hark," they said, "the husband deigns to speak to his brides."

And presently the room was filled with a perfume more delicate than that of a censer burning finest frankincense.

Then the voice spake further: "To-morrow," it said, "when dawn breaks, go out from the town. Mount your palfreys, and, riding without halt, follow the road without heeding whither it leads. I will guide you."

"We will obey you," they said, "for you have made us the happiest of the daughters of men."

And rising from their knees, they kissed one another joyfully.

While the voice was speaking to them, there had come into the square a beautiful horseman in silvern armour, with a golden helm on his head, and, flying above that like a bird, a crest more brilliant than a flame. The horse whereon he rode was of pure white.

None of those there had seen him coming, and he was as if risen from the ground among the crowd of lovers, who, seized with fear, dared not look him in the face.

"Rascals," quoth he, "take these horses away out of the square. Do you not know that the noise of their hooves troubles these three ladies in their prayers?"

And therewith he rode away towards the east.

"Ah," said the lovers to one another, "saw you that silvern armour and that flaming crest? 'Twas an angel of God assuredly, come from Paradise for the sake of these three ladies." The more insistent among them muttered: "He did not forbid us to stand on foot before the door, and in that wise we may yet remain with impunity."

V. How, by the command of God, the three ladies rode to adventure.

On the morrow, therefore, before daylight, the suitors returned once again in great numbers, but first left their horses behind them in their stables. Soon after daybreak they saw the three ladies ride out from their courtyard, in obedience to the command which God had given them, each one mounted upon her palfrey. Supposing that they were but going out into the neighbouring meadows to take the clean air, they followed behind, one and all, singing merry carols in their honour.

For so long as they were in the streets of the town the palfreys moved slowly, but once out in the open country they began galloping.

The lovers tried still to follow them, but at last were forced to drop off, and fell one by one along the wayside.

When they had covered some miles the palfreys stood still; and the three ladies, seeing that they had come free of their pursuers, resolved to give honour to God for his aid, and to this end to build him a fair church.

Where? They did not know. But the thing was already decided in Paradise, as you shall see.

For as soon as they were once again on their horses, the animals, guided by God's holy spirit, set off at a high trot.

And leapt rivers, threaded forests, passed through towns, whereof the gates opened of themselves to let them by, and closed again after, bounded over walls and like obstacles.

And startled every one they met, all amazed to see go by, quick as the wind, these three white horses and these three fair ladies.

And travelled in this way for a thousand leagues, or rather more.

VI. Of the diamond hammers, and foundations torn up from the ground.

At Haeckendover, in the duchy of Brabant, the palfreys stood still once again, and neighed.

And would not go one step forward, nor back.

For this was where God had chosen to have his church.

But the ladies, supposing that they had stopped there because they were tired, went on as far as Hoy-Bout on foot, and there determined to start building.

Therefore they sent for the most skilful workers in stone, and master-builders also, in so great number that at the end of one day the foundations were two hands' breadth high in the lowest part.

And seeing this good beginning the ladies rejoiced greatly, and supposed their work agreeable to God.

But on the morrow, alas, found all the stones torn up out of the ground.

Thinking that by chance some traitor heretic had been buried in that place, who at night shook down the stones of their church with the trembling of his accursed bones, they removed to Steenen-Berg with their workmen, and there started afresh in the same manner as at Hoy-Bout.

But on the morrow morning found the walls once again out of the ground.

For the Lord Jesus was minded to be worshipped more particularly at Haeckendover.

And sent, therefore, his angels by night, with hammers of diamond from the workshops of Paradise.

And bade them tear down the work of the three ladies.

Therefore the sisters, greatly perplexed and wondering, went down on their knees, praying God that he would tell them where he wished to have his church.

VII. Of the youngest sister and the beautiful angel.

And suddenly they saw a young man, of a beauty more than earthly, clad in a robe of the colour of the setting sun.

Kindly he looked at them.

Knowing him for God's angel, the three ladies fell on their faces before him.

But the youngest, bolder than the others, as is the way with children, dared to steal a look at the fair ambassador, and, seeing him so comely, took heart and smiled.

The angel took her by the hand, saying to her and to her sisters: "Come and follow me."

This they did.

And thence they came to the spot where the church now stands, and the angel said to them: "This is the place."

"Thank you, My Lord," said the youngest joyously.

VIII. How the three ladies saw a green island, with sweet flowers and birds thereon.

At that time it was thirteen days past the feast of the Kings; snow had fallen heavily and set hard in frost after, by reason of a north wind which was blowing.

And the three ladies saw before them, among the snow, as it were a green island.

And this island was girt about with a cord of purple silk.

And upon the island the air was fresh as in spring, and roses were blowing, with violets and jessamine, whose smell is like balm.

But outside was naught but storm, north wind, and terrible cold.

Towards the middle, where now stands the grand altar, was a holm-oak, covered with blossom as if it had been a Persian jessamine.

In the branches, warblers, finches and nightingales sang to their hearts' content the sweetest songs of Paradise.

For these were angels, who had put on feathered guise, carolling in this fashion in God's honour.

One fair nightingale, the sweetest singer of them all, held in his right claw a roll of parchment, whereon was written in letters of gold:

"This is the place chosen by God and shown by him to the three maidens for the building of a church to the glory of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ."

Great was the joy of the ladies at that sight, and the youngest said to the angel:

"We see certainly that God loves us somewhat; what must we do now, My Lord Angel?"

"Thou must build the church here, little one," answered the messenger, "and choose for this work twelve of the most skilled workmen, neither more nor less; God himself will be the thirteenth."

And having said so much he returned to high heaven.

IX. Of the church of Our Lord at Haeckendover, and of the strange mason who worked there.

Then all three went off in haste to choose from among the others the twelve good workmen who should set up the foundations of the church where they had seen the cord of purple silk.

The work went on so well that it was a pleasure to see the stones mounting up, straight and quickly.

But the miracle was this, that during the hours of labour the masons were always thirteen in number, but at dinner and at paytime twelve only.

For the Lord Jesus was pleased to work with the others, but neither ate nor drank with them; he who in Paradise had such fine broth and such sweet fruits, and wine from the fountain of Saphir, which is a fountain giving forth without intermission wine of a richer yellow than liquid gold itself.

Nor did he suffer for want of money; for that is an evil reserved to us needy, piteous, and ill-faring mortals.

The building advanced so well that soon the bell was hung in the tower as a sign that the church was finished.

Then the three maids entered in together; and, falling on her knees, the youngest said:

"By whom, divine husband and beloved Jesus, shall we dedicate this church built for your service?"

To which the Lord Jesus replied: "It is I Myself who will consecrate and dedicate this church; let none come after me to consecrate it anew."

X. Of the two bishops, and the withered hands.

By and by two venerable bishops passed through Haeckendover, and seeing the new church were minded to give it their blessing.

They knew nothing of the words of Jesus to the three ladies, or they would not have thought of such temerity.

But they were punished terribly none the less.

For as one of them was about to bless the water for this purpose he became suddenly blind.

And the other, who was holding the holy water brush, when he lifted his arms for the blessing, found them suddenly withered and stiffened, so that he could no longer move them.

And perceiving that they had sinned in some way the two bishops were filled with repentance and prayed to the Lord Jesus to pardon them.

And they were straightway pardoned, seeing that they had sinned in ignorance.

And thereafter they came oftentimes most devoutly to Haeckendover.

SIR HALEWYN

I. Of the two castles.

Sir Halewyn lifted up his voice in a song.

And whatever maid heard that song must needs go to him straight away.

And now to all good Flemings will I tell the tale of this Halewyn and his song, and of the brave maid Magtelt.

There were two proud castles in the province of Flanders. In one dwelt Sir Roel de Heurne, with the lady Gonde, his good wife; Toon the Silent, his son; Magtelt, his fair daughter, and a host of pages, grooms, varlets, men-at-arms, and all the other members of the household, among whom an especial favourite was Anne-Mie, a girl of gentle blood, maid to the lady Magtelt.

Of everything that was made by his peasants, Sir Roel took naught but what was the best.

And the peasants said of him that it was a good master who took only as much as he needed, when he might have left them with nothing.

In the other castle lived Sir Halewyn the Miserable, with his father, brother, mother, and sister, and a large following of rascals and brigands.

And these were an ill-favoured crew, I can tell you, past masters of robbery, pillage, and murder, such as it is not good to meet at too close quarters.

II. Of Dirk, called the Crow.

This family were issue by direct line of Dirk, the first of the Halewyns, to whom was given the name of the Crow, because he was as greedy of booty as a crow is of carrion.

And also because he was clad all in black, and his men with him.

This Dirk, who lived in the time of the great wars, was like a thunderbolt in battle, where, with his only weapon, a heavy club, furnished with a beak at one side, he broke javelins, splintered lances, and tore away mail as if it had been cloth; and no one could well resist his onslaught. And in this manner he so frightened his enemies that when they saw Dirk and his black soldiers bearing down upon them, shouting, yelling, without fear of any one, and in great number, they gave themselves up for dead before ever battle was joined.

When victory was won and the more important booty divided (whereof Dirk always secured the lion's share and never came off badly), the other barons and their knights would leave the rest of the field to him and his followers, and would go off, saying: "The pieces are for the crow."

No other man-at-arms would dare to stay behind then, or he would have been quickly taken and slain without waiting. And thereafter Dirk's men would begin to play the crow in earnest; cutting off fingers to get the rings on them, even of those not yet dead, who cried out to them for succour; chopping off heads and arms so that they might pull away clothes the more easily. And they even fought amongst themselves, and sometimes killed one another, over the bodies of the dead, for the sake of neck-pieces, straps of hide, or more paltry stuff still.

And stayed sometimes on the battlefield over this business three days and three nights.

When all the dead were stark naked they piled up their gains into carts which they brought for this purpose.

And with these they returned to Dirk's castle, there to hold high revel and have good cheer. On the way they fought the peasants, taking whatever women and girls were at all comely, and did with them what they pleased. In this way they passed their lives fighting, pillaging, robbing the helpless, and caring nothing at all for either God or devil.

Dirk the Crow became exceedingly powerful and got very much worship, both by reason of his prowess in battle and from the fact that My Lord the Count gave him after his victories the demesne of Halewyn, with powers of seigneury, both of the higher and the lower order.

And he had a fine escutcheon made for himself, wherein was a crow sable on a field or, with this device: The pieces are for the Crow.

III. Of Sir Halewyn and how he carried himself in his youth.

But to this strong Crow were born children of a quite other kind.

For they were all, strangely enough, men of the quill and writing-desk, caring nothing for the fine arts of war, and despising all arms.

These great clerks lost a good half of their heritage. For each year some stronger neighbour would rob them of a piece of it.

And they begot puny and miserable children, with pale faces, who passed their time, as clerks are wont, lurking in corners, sitting huddled on stools, and whining chants and litanies in a melancholy fashion.

Thus came to an end the good men of the line.

Siewert Halewyn, who was the wretch of whom I am to tell you this tale, was as ugly, puny, woebegone, and sour-faced as the others, or even worse than they.

And like them he was always lurking and hiding in corners, and shirking company, hated the sound of laughter, sweated ill-humour, and, moreover, was never seen to lift his head skywards like an honest man, but was all the while looking down at his boots, wept without reason, grumbled without cause, and never had any satisfaction in anything. For the rest he was a coward and cruel, delighting during his childhood in teasing, frightening and hurting puppies and kittens, sparrows, thrushes, finches, nightingales, and all small beasts.

And even when he was older, he hardly dared to attack so large a thing as a wolf, though he were armed with his great sword. But as soon as the beast was brought down he would rain blows on it with high valour.

So he went on until he was old enough to marry.

IV. How Sir Halewyn wished to take himself a wife, and what the ladies and gentlewomen said to it.

Then, since he was the oldest of the family, he was sent off to the court of the Count, there to find himself a wife. But every one laughed at him, on account of his marvellous ugliness, more particularly the ladies and gentlewomen, who made fun of him among themselves, saying:

"Look at this fine knight! What is he doing here? He has come to marry us, I suppose.--Who would have him, for four castles, as many manors, ten thousand peasants and half the gold in the province? None.--And that is a pity, for between them they would get fine children, if they were to be like their father!--Ho, what fine hair he has, the devil must have limned it with an old nail; what a fine nose, 'tis like a withered plum, and what fair blue eyes, so marvellously ringed round with red.--See, he is going to cry! That will be pretty music."

And Sir Halewyn, hearing the ladies talk after this fashion, could not find a word to answer them with, for between anger, shame, and sorrow his tongue was fast stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Nevertheless he would take a lance at every tournament, and every time would be shamefully overcome, and the ladies, seeing him fall, would applaud loudly, crying out: "Worship to the ill-favoured one! The old crow has lost his beak." Thus they compared him, for his shame, with Dirk, the old stock of the Halewyns, who had been so mighty in his day. And, acclaimed in this fashion every time he jousted, Sir Halewyn would go back from the field in sorrow to his pavilion.

V. How it came about that Sir Halewyn, after a certain tournament, called upon the devil for aid.

At the third tournament wherein he was beaten there were on the field his father, mother, brother, and sister.

And his father said:

"Well, look at my fine son, Siewert the soft, Siewert the overthrown, Siewert the faint-heart, coming back from jousting with his tail between his legs, like a dog thrashed with a great stick."

And his mother said:

"I suppose for certain that My Lord the Count has put a gold chain round thy neck, and acclaimed thee publicly, for having so valiantly in this jousting jousted on thy back, as in the old days my lord of Beaufort was wont to make thee do. Holy God! that was a fine tumble."

And his sister said:

"Welcome, my fair brother, what news do you bring? Thou wert the victor for certain, as I see from thy triumphant mien. But where is the wreath of the ladies?"

And his brother said:

"Where is your lordly bearing, My Lord Siewert Halewyn the elder, descendant of the Crow with the great beak? For such a Crow vanquishes without much trouble eagles, goshawks, shrikes, gerfalcons, sparrow-hawks. Are you not thirsty, my brother, with the thirst of a baron, of a victor, I will not say of a villein? We have here some fine frog's wine, which will cool the fires of victory in your belly."

"Ha," answered the Sire, grinding his teeth, "if God gave me strength, I would make thee sing a different song Sir Brother."

And saying this, he pulled out his sword to do so, but the younger, parrying his thrust, cried out:

"Bravo, uncrowlike Crow! Bravo, capon! Raise up our house, I beg of thee, Siewert the victorious!"

"Ha," said the Sire, "and why does this chatterer not go and joust as well as I? But he would not dare, being that kind of coward who looks on at others, folding his arms and making fun of those who strive."

Then he dismounted from his horse, went off and hid himself in his chamber, cried out to the four walls in a rage, prayed to the devil to give him strength and beauty, and promised him, on the oath of a knight, that he would give him his soul in exchange.

So he called on him all through the night, crying out, weeping, bewailing his lot, minded at times even to kill himself. But the devil did not come, being busy elsewhere.

VI. Of the rovings and wanderings of Sir Halewyn.

Every day after this, whether it were fair or foul, light sky or dark, storm or gentle breeze, rain, snow, or hail, Sir Halewyn wandered alone through the fields and woods.

And children, seeing him, ran away in fear.

"Ah," said he, "I must be very ugly!" And he went on with his wandering.

But if on his way he met some common man who had strength and beauty, he would bear down on him and oftentimes kill him with his sword.

And every one grew to shun him, and to pray to God that he would soon remove their Lord from this world.

And every night, Sir Halewyn called on the devil.

But the devil would not come.

"Ah," said the Sire sorrowfully, "if thou wilt only give me strength and beauty in this life, I will give thee my soul in the other. 'Tis a good bargain."

But the devil never came.

And he, restless, always in anguish and melancholy, was soon like an old man to look at, and was given the name throughout the country of the Ill-favoured Lord.

And his heart was swollen with hatred and anger. And he cursed God.

VII. Of the Prince of the Stones and of the song.

One day in the season of plum-picking, having roved over the whole countryside, and even as far as Lille, on the way back to his castle he passed through a wood. Ambling along he saw among the undergrowth, alongside an oak, a stone which was of great length and broad in proportion.

And he said: "That will make me a good seat, comfortable enough to rest on for a little while." And sitting down on the stone he once again prayed to the devil to let him have health and beauty.

By and by, although it was still daylight, and the small birds, warblers and finches, sang in the woods joyously, and there was a bright sun and a soft wind, Sir Halewyn went off to sleep, for he was very tired.

Having slept until it was night, he was suddenly awakened by a strange sound. And he saw, by the light of the high moon and the clear stars, as it were a little animal, with a coat like a mossy stone, who was scratching up the earth beneath the rock, now and again thrusting his head into the hole he had made, as a dog does hunting moles.

Sir Halewyn, thinking it was some wild thing, hit at it with his sword.

But the sword was broken at its touch, and a little mannikin of stone leapt up on to his shoulders, and smote his cheeks sharply with his hard hands, and said, wheezing and laughing:

"Seek, Siewert Halewyn; seek song and sickle, sickle and song; seek, seek, ill-favoured one!"

And so saying he hopped about like a flea on the back of the Miserable, who bent forward as he was bid, and with a piece of his sword dug in the hole. And the stony cheek of the little mannikin was alongside his own, and his two eyes lit up the hole better than lanterns would have done.

And biting Halewyn's flesh with his sharp teeth, striking him with his little fists, and with his nails pinching and pulling him, and laughing harshly, the little mannikin said: "I am the Prince of the Stones, I have fine treasures; seek, seek, Miserable!"

And saying this, he pommelled him beyond endurance. "He wants," he screamed, mocking him, "Siewert Halewyn wants strength and beauty, beauty and strength; seek then, Miserable."

And he pulled out his hair in handfuls, and tore his dress with his nails until he was all in rags, and kept saying, with great bursts of laughter: "Strength and beauty, beauty and strength; seek, seek, Miserable!" And he hung from his ears with his two hands, and kicked his stone feet in his face, notwithstanding that the Sire cried out with pain.

And the little mannikin said: "To get strength and beauty, seek, Halewyn, a song and a sickle, seek, Sir Miserable!" And the Miserable went on scratching out the earth with his piece of sword.

Suddenly the earth fell away under the stone, leaving a great hole open, and Halewyn, by the light of the mannikin's eyes, saw a sepulchre, and within the sepulchre a man lying, who was of marvellous beauty and had none of the appearance of death.

This man was clad all in white, and in his hands held a sickle, whereof both handle and blade were of gold.

"Take the sickle," quoth the little mannikin, thumping his head with his fists.

Sir Halewyn did as he was bid, and straightway the man in the tomb became dust, and from the dust came a white flame, tall and spreading, and from the white flame a wonderfully sweet song.

And suddenly all about the wood was spread a perfume of cinnamon, frankincense, and sweet marjoram.

"Sing," said the mannikin, and the Miserable repeated the song. While he was singing his harsh voice was changed to a voice sweeter than an angel's, and he saw coming out of the depths of the wood a virgin of heavenly beauty and wholly naked; and she came and stood before him.

"Ah," she said, weeping, "master of the golden sickle. I come, for I must obey; do not make me suffer too much in the taking of my heart, master of the golden sickle."

Then the virgin went away into the depths of the wood; and the mannikin, bursting out into laughter, threw Sir Halewyn down on to the ground, and said:

"Hast song and sickle; so shalt thou have strength and beauty; I am the Prince of the Stones; farewell, cousin."

And Halewyn, picking himself up, saw no more of either the mannikin or the naked maid; and studying well the golden sickle, and pondering in his mind what could be the meaning of the man in the tomb and the naked virgin, and inquiring within himself in perplexity what use he could make of the sickle and the sweet song, he saw suddenly on the blade a fair inscription, written in letters of fire.

But he could not read the writing, for he was ignorant of all the arts; and, weeping with rage, he threw himself into the bushes, crying out: "Help me, Prince of the Stones. Leave me not to die of despair."

Thereupon the mannikin reappeared, leapt upon his shoulder, and, giving him a stout rap on the nose, read on one side of the blade of the sickle this inscription which follows:

Song calls,
Sickle reaps.
In the heart of a maid shalt thou find:
Strength, beauty, honour, riches,
From the hands of a dead virgin.

And upon the other side of the blade the mannikin read further:

Whoso thou art shalt do this thing,
Writing read and song sing:
Seek well, hark and go;
No man shall lay thee low.
Song calls,
Sickle reaps.

And having read this the mannikin went away once more.

Suddenly the Miserable heard a sad voice saying:

"Wilt thou seek strength and beauty in death, blood, and tears?"

"Yes," said he.

"Ambitious heart, heart of stone," answered the voice. Then he heard nothing more.

And he gazed at the sickle with its flaming letters until such time as My Lord Chanticleer called his hens awake.

VIII. What Halewyn did to the little girl cutting faggots.

The Miserable was overjoyed at what had come about, and inquired within himself whether it would be in the heart of a virgin child or of a marriageable virgin that he would find what was promised him, and so satisfy his great desire for worship and power.

Pondering this he went a little way through the wood and stationed himself near to some cottages where he knew there were maids of divers ages, and there waited until morning.

Soon after the sun was up, a little girl came out, nine years old, or rather less, and began collecting and cutting up faggots.

Going up to her, he sang the song and showed her the sickle.

Whereupon she cried out in fear, and ran away as fast as she could.

But Halewyn, having quickly overtaken her, dragged her off by force to his castle.

Going in, he met on the bridge his lady mother, who said to him: "Where goest thou, Miserable, with this child?"

He answered:

"To bring honour to our house."

And his lady mother let him pass, thinking him mad.

He went into his room, opened the side of the girl beneath a breast just budding, cut out the heart with the sickle, and drank the blood.

But he got no more strength from it than he had before.

And weeping bitter tears, he cried: "The sickle has played me false." And he threw down into the moat both the heart and the body.

And the lady Halewyn seeing this poor heart and body dropping into the water, ordered that they should be taken out and brought to her.

Seeing the body rent open under the breast, and the heart taken out, she became afraid lest Siewert her first-born was following dark practices.

And she put the girl's heart back in her breast, and gave her a very fine and Christian burial, and had a fair great cross made on her winding-sheet, and afterwards she was put in the ground and a fair mass said for the quiet of her soul.

IX. Of the heart of a maid and of the great strength which came to Sir Halewyn.

Sorely troubled, and falling on his knees, Halewyn said: "Alas, is the spell then impotent? I sang, and she would not come to my singing! What would you have me do now, Lord Prince of the Stones? If it is that I must wait until nightfall, that I will do. Then, without doubt, having no sun to hinder your powers, you will give me strength and beauty, and all prowess, and you will send me the virgin I need."

And he went at night to wander in the woods round about the cottages, and there, singing his song, and looking out to see if any were coming.

He saw by the light of the bright moon the daughter of Claes, a poor mad man, nicknamed the Dog-beater, because he used to thump and pommel grievously whomever he met, saying that these accursed dogs had robbed him of his coat, and must give it him back again.

This girl took care of Claes very well, and would not marry, though she was a beautiful maid, saying: "Since he is simple, I cannot leave him to look to himself."

And every one, seeing her so stout-hearted, gave her, one some of his cheese, another some beans, another some flour, and so they lived together without wanting for food.

The Miserable stood still at the edge of the wood and sang. And the maid walked straight towards the singing and fell on her knees before him.

He went home to his castle, and she followed him, and entered in with him, saying no word.

On the stair he met his brother, just returned from boar-hunting, who said, in mocking wise:

"Ah, is the Miserable about to get us a bastard?" And to the girl: "Well, mistress, thy heart must be fast set on my ugly brother that thou must needs follow him in this wise, without a word spoken."

But Halewyn, in a rage, hit out at his brother's face with his sword.

Then, passing him by, went up into his own room.

And there, having shut fast the door, from fear of his brother, he stripped the girl quite naked, as he had seen the virgin in his vision. And the girl said that she was cold.

Quickly he opened her breast with the golden blade, under the left pap.

And as the maid gave the death-cry, the heart came out of itself on the blade.

And the Miserable saw before his eyes the little mannikin coming out of the stones of the wall, who said to him, grinning:

"Heart on heart gives strength and beauty. Halewyn shall hang the maid in the Gallows-field. And the body shall hang until the hour of God." Then he went back into the wall.

Halewyn put the heart on his breast, and felt it beating firmly and taking root in his skin. And suddenly his bent back was straightened; and his arm found such strength that he broke easily in two a heavy oaken bench; and looking at himself in a mirror-glass he saw an image so beautiful that he could scarce tell it for his own.

And he felt in his veins the fire of youth burning.

Going down into the great hall he found there at supper his father, mother, brother, and sister.

None of them would have known him but for his voice, which was unchanged.

And his mother rose and peered into his face to see him better.

And he said to her: "Woman, I am thine own son, Siewert Halewyn, the Invincible."

But his brother, whom he had but lately smitten in the face, ran towards him hotly, saying: "Cursed be the Invincible!" and struck him with his knife. But the blade snapped off like glass against the body of the Miserable; whereupon the younger brother seized him in his arms, but the Miserable tore him off and threw him to one side as if he had been a caterpillar.

Then he rushed at him with his head down, like a battering-ram, but as soon as his head touched the Miserable it was cut open, and the blood ran down over his face.

And his father and mother, his sister and the wounded brother, threw themselves on their knees and asked his forgiveness, begging him, since he had become so powerful, to bring them riches and honour.

"That I will," said he.

X. How the Miserable robbed a Lombard goldsmith, and of the pleasant speech of the ladies and gentlewomen.

On the morrow, armed only with the sickle, for he despised other arms on account of the strength which the spell gave him, Halewyn took the body of the maid to the Gallows-field and there hanged it on the tree.

Then he rode off to the city of Ghent.

And the ladies, gentlewomen and maidens of the town, seeing him pass by on his black horse, said among themselves: "Who is this fair horseman?"

"'Tis," he cried right proudly, "Siewert Halewyn, who was called the Ill-favoured one."

"Nay, nay," said the bolder among them, "you are making fun of us, My Lord, or else you have been changed by a fairy."

"Yes," said he, "and, moreover, I had fleshly knowledge of her; and so shall have of you, if I please."

At these words the ladies and gentlewomen were not at all put out.

And he went to the shop of a Lombard goldsmith in that town, who had at one time and another lent him six-and-twenty florins. But the goldsmith did not know him for himself.

He told him that he was Sir Halewyn.

"Ah," said the goldsmith, "then I pray, My Lord, that you will repay me my six-and-twenty florins."

But Halewyn, laughing: "Take me," he said, "to the room where thou keepest thy gold."

"My Lord," said the goldsmith, "that I will not, for all that I hold you in high esteem."

"Dog," said he, "if thou dost not obey me I will strike thee dead instantly."

"Ha!" said the goldsmith, "do not come blustering here, My Lord, for I am neither serf nor peasant, but a free burgess of this town. And if you are so minded as to lay your hands on me, I shall know how to get redress, I promise you."

Then Halewyn struck him, and the burgess called for help.

Hearing this cry, apprentices to the number of six came down into the shop, and, seeing Halewyn, ran to seize him.

But he beat them off likewise and bade them show him where the gold was kept.

Which they did, saying one to another: "This is the Devil."

And the goldsmith, weeping: "My Lord," said he, "do not take it all."

"I shall take what I will," said Halewyn; and he filled his money-bag.

And in this way he took from the goldsmith more than seven hundred golden bezants.

Then, seeing the poor man lamenting his lot, he struck him two or three hard blows, telling him not to whine so loud, and that before the month was out he would take from him double the amount.

XI. Of the arrogant arms of Sir Halewyn.

And the Miserable became the richest, most powerful, and most feared baron in the whole province.

And blasphemously he compared himself to God.

And considering that the old arms of Dirk, and his device, were too mean for his new magnificence:

He sent to Bruges for painters in heraldry to fashion them afresh.

These painters put the old crow away in one quarter, and on a field argent and sable blazoned a heart gules and a sickle or, with this device: None can stand against me.

Moreover, he had this same blazon fashioned into a great standard which was flown from his castle keep. And also had it cut in stone over the gate. And on his shield, which he caused to be made larger so that the arrogant device might be seen to better advantage. And on his arms, his clothes, and wherever it could be put, there he had it as well.

XII. How Sir Halewyn jousted with a knight of England.

It so happened that at about this time My Lord of Flanders let call a tournament.

And sent out to all his lords and barons to come to Ghent for that purpose.

Halewyn went thither and set up his shield among the others.

But the barons and lords, seeing the arrogant device and the great size of the shield, were greatly put to offence thereat.

And all of them jousted with him, but each was overthrown in turn.

Among them was present an English knight of much prowess, who rode out to the middle of the tourney-field and stood straight and proud before Sir Halewyn.