Chapter IV: Book III: I (4)

"I will tell you what I know," replied Wasteele. "A smith of Namur, a stout reformer, passed through here the other day, under pretext of asking me to help him with the screens, weathercocks, and other ironwork of a castle that is to be built near the Plante. The usher of the sheriff's court told him that his masters had already met, and that a tavern keeper had been summoned, because he lived a few hundred fathom from the place where the murder had taken place. Asked if he had seen the murderers or not, or any he might suspect as such, he had replied: 'I saw country folk men and women travelling on donkeys, asking me for something to drink and staying seated on their mounts, or getting down to drink in my house, beer for the men, hydromel for the women and girls. I saw two bold rustics that talked of shortening Messire of Orange by a foot.' And so saying, the host, whistling, imitated the sound of a knife going into the flesh of the neck. 'By the Steel-wind,' he said, 'I will speak with you in private, being empowered to do so.' He spoke and was released. From that time the councils of justice have without doubt sent despatches to their subordinate councils. The host said he had seen only country men and country women riding upon asses; it will therefore follow that pursuit will be directed against all persons that may be found bestriding a donkey. And the prince hath need of you, my children."

"Sell the asses," said Ulenspiegel, "and keep the price for the prince's treasury."

The asses were sold.

"You must now," said Wasteele, "have each a trade free and independent of the guilds; do you know how to make bird cages and mouse traps?"

"I have made such long ago," said Ulenspiegel.

"And thou?" asked Wasteele of Lamme.

"I will sell eete-koeken and olie-koeken; these are pancakes and balls of flour cooked in oil."

"Follow me; here are cages and mouse traps all ready; the tools and copper filigree work also which are needed to mend them and to make others. They were brought me by one of my spies. This is for you, Ulenspiegel. As for you, Lamme, here is a little stove and a bellows; I will give you flour, butter, and oil to make the eete-koeken and the olie-koeken."

"He will eat them," said Ulenspiegel.

"When shall we make the first ones?" asked Lamme.

Wasteele replied:

"First ye shall help me for a night or two; I cannot finish my great task alone by myself."

"I am hungry," said Lamme, "can one eat here?"

"There is bread and cheese," said Wasteele.

"No butter?" asked Lamme.

"No butter," said Wasteele.

"Have you beer or wine?" asked Ulenspiegel.

"I never drink them," he answered, "but I will go in het Pelicaen, close by here, and fetch some for you if you wish."

"Aye," said Lamme, "and bring us some ham."

"I will do as you wish," said Wasteele, looking at Lamme with great disdain.

All the same he brought dobbel-clauwert and a ham. And Lamme, full of joy, ate enough for five.

And he said:

"When do we set to work?"

"To-night," said Wasteele; "but stay in the forge and do not be afraid of my workmen. They are of the Reformed faith like yourselves."

"That is well," said Lamme.

By night, the curfew having rung and the doors being shut, Wasteele, making Ulenspiegel and Lamme help him, going down and bringing up from his cellar heavy bundles of weapons:

"Here," he said, "are twenty arquebuses to mend, thirty lance heads to furbish, and lead for fifteen hundred bullets to melt down; you shall help me with it."

"With all my hands," said Ulenspiegel, "and why have I not four to serve you?"

"Lamme will help us," said Wasteele.

"Aye," replied Lamme, piteously, and falling with drowsiness through excess of drink and food.

"You shall melt the lead," said Ulenspiegel.

"I will melt the lead," said Lamme.

Lamme, melting his lead and running his bullets, kept looking with a savage eye at the smitte Wasteele who was driving him to keep awake when he was dropping with sleep. He ran his bullets with a wordless fury, having a great longing to pour the molten lead on the head of Wasteele the smith. But he controlled himself. Towards midnight, his rage getting the better of him at the same time as excess of fatigue, he addressed him thus in a hissing voice, while the smitte Wasteele with Ulenspiegel was patiently furbishing musket barrels, muskets, and lance heads:

"There you are," said Lamme, "meager, pale, and wretched, believing in the good faith of princes and the great ones of the earth, and disdaining, in an excessive zeal, your body, your noble body that you are leaving to perish in misery and humiliation. It was not for this that God made it with Dame Nature. Do you know that our soul which is the breath of life, needs, that it may breathe, beans, beef, beer, wine, ham, sausages, chitterlings, and rest; you, you live on bread, water, and watching."

"Whence have you this talkative flow?" asked Ulenspiegel.

"He knows not what he says," answered Wasteele, sadly.

But Lamme growing angry:

"I know better than you. I say that we are mad, I, you, and Ulenspiegel, to wear out our eyes for all these princes and great ones of the earth, who would laugh loudly at us if they saw us dying of weariness, losing our sleep to furbish up arms and cast bullets for their service while they drink French wine and eat German capons from golden tankards and dishes of English pewter; they will never ask whether, while we are seeking in the open wild the God by whose grace they have their power, their enemies are cutting off our limbs with their scythes and casting us into the well of death. They, in the meanwhile, who are neither Reformed, nor Calvinists, nor Lutherans, nor Catholics, but sceptics and doubters entirely, will buy or conquer principalities, will devour the wealth of the monks, abbeys, and convents, and will have all: virgins, wives, women and bona robas, and will drink from their gold cups to their perpetual jollity, and to our everlasting foolishness, simplicity, stupidity, and to the seven deadly sins which they commit, O smitte Wasteele, under the starveling nose of thy enthusiasm. Look upon the fields, the meads, look on the harvest, the orchards, the kine, the gold rising out of the earth; look at the wild things in the woods, the birds of the skies, delicious ortolans, delicate thrushes, wild boars' heads, haunches of buck venison; all is theirs, hunting, fishing, earth, sea, everything. And you, you live on bread and water, and we are killing ourselves here for them, without sleep, without eating, and without drinking. And when we shall be dead they will fetch our carrion a kick and say to our mothers: 'Make us more of these; those ones can do us no service now.'"

Ulenspiegel laughed and said nothing. Lamme breathed hard with indignation, but Wasteele, speaking in a gentle voice:

"Thou speakest but lightly," said he. "I live not for ham, for beer, or for ortolans, but for the victory of freedom of conscience. The prince of freedom does even as I do. He sacrifices his wealth, his sleep and his happiness to drive out from the Low Countries the butchers and tyranny. Do as he does and try to grow thinner. 'Tis not by the belly that peoples can be saved, but by proud courage and fatigues endured even unto death without a murmur. And now go and lie down, if thou art sleepy."

But Lamme would not, being ashamed.

And they furbished arms and cast bullets until it was morning, and thus for three days.

Then they departed for Ghent, by night, selling bird cages, mouse-traps, and olie-koekjes.

And they stopped at Meulestee, the little town of the mills, whose red roofs are seen everywhere, and there they agreed to carry on their trades apart and to meet each other at night before curfew in de Zwaen, at the Swan Inn.

Lamme wandered about the streets of Ghent selling olie-koekjes getting a liking for this trade, seeking for his wife, emptying many a quart pot and eating continually. Ulenspiegel had delivered letters from the prince to Jacob Scoelap, licentiate in medicine; to Lieven Smet, cloth seller; to Jan Wulfschaeger, to Gillis Coorne, the scarlet dyer, and to Jan de Roose, tile maker, who gave him the money harvested by them for the Prince, and bade him wait some days longer at Ghent and in the neighbourhood, and he would be given still more.

Those men having been hanged later on the New Gibbet for heresy, their bodies were buried in the Gallows Field, near the Bruges Gate.

XXX

Meanwhile, the provost Spelle le Roux, armed with his red wand, was hurrying from town to town on his lean horse, everywhere setting up scaffolds, lighting fires of execution, digging graves to bury poor women and girls alive in them. And the King inherited.

Ulenspiegel being at Meulestee with Lamme, under a tree, found himself full of weary lassitude. It was cold although the month was June. From the skies, laden with gray clouds, there fell a fine hail.

"My son," said Lamme, "you are for the past four nights shamelessly running wild, gadding after the bona robas, you go to sleep in de Zoeten Inval, at the Sweet Fall; you will do like the man on the sign, falling head foremost into a hive of bees. Vainly do I wait for you in de Zwaen, and I draw evil forebodings from this liquorish living. Why do you not take a wife virtuously?"

"Lamme," said Ulenspiegel, "he to whom one woman is all women, and to whom all women are one in this gentle combat that they call love, must not lightly rush upon his choice."

"And Nele, do you not think at all on her?"

"Nele is at Damme, far away," said Ulenspiegel.

While he was in this posture and the hail was falling thick, a young and pretty woman passed by, running and covering up her head in her petticoat.

"Eh," said she, "dreamy one, what dost thou under that tree?"

"I am dreaming," said Ulenspiegel, "of a woman that should make me a roof against the hail with her petticoat."

"Thou hast found her," said the woman. "Rise up."

"Wilt thou leave me alone again?" said Lamme.

"Aye," said Ulenspiegel, "but go in de Zwaen, eat a leg of mutton or two, drink a dozen tankards of beer; you will sleep and you will not be forlorn then."

"I will do that," said Lamme.

Ulenspiegel went up to the woman.

"Pick up my skirt on one side," said she, "I will lift it on the other, and now let us run."

"Why run?" asked Ulenspiegel.

"Because," she said, "I am fain to flee from Meulestee; the provost Spelle is in it with two catchpolls and he has sworn to have all the light ladies whipped if they will not pay him five florins each. That is why I am running: run, too, and stay with me to defend me."

"Lamme," cried Ulenspiegel, "Spelle is in Meulestee. Go off and away to Destelberg, to the Star of the Wise Men."

And Lamme, getting up affrighted, took his belly in both hands and began to run.

"Whither is this fat hare going?" said the girl.

"To a burrow where I shall find him again," replied Ulenspiegel.

"Let us run," said she, beating the ground with her foot like a restive filly.

"I would fain be virtuous without running," said Ulenspiegel.

"What does that mean?" asked she.

Ulenspiegel made answer:

"The fat hare wants me to renounce good wine, cervoise ale, and the fresh skin of women."

The girl looked at him with an ugly eye.

"Your breath is short; you must rest," said she.

"Rest myself? I see no shelter," replied Ulenspiegel.

"Your virtue," said the girl, "will serve for a quilt."

"I like your petticoat better," said he.

"My petticoat," said the girl, "would not be worthy to cover a saint such as you would fain be. Take yourself off that I may run alone."

"Do you not know," replied Ulenspiegel, "that a dog goes swifter with four feet than a man with two? And so, having four feet, we shall run better."

"You have a lively tongue for a virtuous man."

"Aye," said he.

"But," said she, "I have always observed that virtue is a quiet, sleepy, thick, and chilly quality. It is a mask to hide grumbling faces, a velvet cloak on a man of stone. I like men that have in their breast a stove well lighted with the fire of virility, which exciteth to valiant and gay enterprises."

"It was ever thus," replied Ulenspiegel, "that the lovely she-devil spake to the glorious Saint Anthony."

There was an inn a score of paces from the road.

"You have spoken well," said Ulenspiegel, "now you must drink well."

"My tongue is still cool and fresh," said the girl.

They went in. On a chest there slumbered a big jug nicknamed "belly," because of its wide paunch.

Ulenspiegel said to the baes:

"Dost thou see this florin?"

"I see it," said the baes.

"How many patards would thou extract from it to fill up that belly there with dobbel-clauwert?"

The baes said to him:

"With negen mannekens (nine little men), you will be clear."

"That," said Ulenspiegel, "is six Flanders mites, and overmuch by two mites. But fill it, anyhow."

Ulenspiegel poured out a goblet for the woman, then rising up proudly and applying the beak of the belly to his mouth, he emptied it all every drop into his throat. And it was as the noise of a cataract.

The girl, dumbfounded, said to him:

"How did you manage to put so big a belly into your lean stomach?"

Without replying, Ulenspiegel said to the baes:

"Bring a knuckle of ham and some bread, and another full belly, that we may eat and drink."

Which they did.

While the girl was munching a piece of the rind he took her so subtly, that she was startled, charmed, and compliant all at once.

Then questioning him:

"Whence," she said, "have they come to your virtue, this thirst like a sponge, this wolf's hunger, and these amorous audacities?"

Ulenspiegel replied:

"Having sinned a hundred ways, I swore, as you know, to do penance. That lasted a whole long hour. Thinking during that hour upon my life that was to come, I saw myself fed meagrely on bread, dully refreshed with water; sadly fleeing from love; daring neither to move nor sneeze, for fear to commit wickedness; esteemed by all, feared by each; alone like a leper; sad as a dog orphaned of his master, and after fifty years of martyrdom, ending by undergoing my death in melancholy fashion on a pallet. The penance was long enough: so kiss me, my darling, and let us go out from purgatory together."

"Ah!" said she, obeying cheerfully, "what a good sign virtue is to put on the end of a pole!"

Time passed in these amorous doings; nevertheless they must needs rise and go, for the girl feared to see in the midst of their pleasure the provost Spelle suddenly appear with his catchpolls.

"Truss up thy petticoat then," said Ulenspiegel.

And they ran like stags towards Destelberg, where they found Lamme eating at the Star of the Three Wise Men.

XXXI

Ulenspiegel often saw at Ghent, Jacob Scoelap, Lieven Smet, and Jan de Wulfschaeger, who gave him news of the good or bad fortune of the Silent.

And every time that Ulenspiegel came back to Destelberg, Lamme said to him:

"What do you bring? Good luck or bad luck?"

"Alas!" said Ulenspiegel, "the Silent, his brother Ludwig, the other chiefs and the Frenchmen were determined to go farther into France and join with the Prince of Condé. Thus they would save the poor Belgian fatherland and freedom of conscience. God willed it otherwise; the German reiters and landsknechts refused to go farther, and said their oath was to go against the Duke of Alba and not against France. Having vainly entreated them to do their duty, the Silent was forced to take them through Champagne and Lorraine as far as Strasbourg, whence they went back into Germany. All has gone awry through this sudden and obstinate departure: the King of France, despite his contract with the prince, refuses to give over the money he promised; the Queen of England would have sent him money to get back the town and the district of Calais; her letters were intercepted and despatched to the Cardinal at Lorraine, who forged an answer in the contrary sense.

"Thus we see melt away, like ghosts at the crowing of the cock, that goodly army, our hope; but God is with us, and if the earth fail us, the water will do its work. Long live the Beggar!"

XXXII

The girl came one day, all weeping, to say to Lamme and to Ulenspiegel:

"Spelle is allowing murderers and robbers in Meulestee to escape for money. He is putting the innocent to death. My brother Michielkin is among them. Alas! Let me tell you, ye will avenge him, being men. A vile and infamous debauchee, Pieter de Roose, an habitual seducer of children and girls, does all the harm. Alas! my poor brother Michielkin and Pieter de Roose were one evening, but not at the same table, in the tavern of the Valck, where Pieter de Roose was avoided by every one like the plague.

"My brother, not willing to see him in the same room as himself, called him a lecherous blackguard, and ordered him to purge the chamber of his presence.

"Pieter de Roose replied:

"'The brother of a public baggage has no need to show such a lofty nose.'

"He lied. I am not public, and give myself only to whomsoever I please.'

"Michielkin, then, flinging his quart of cervoise ale in his face, told him he had lied like the filthy debauchee that he was, threatening, if he did not decamp, to make him eat his fist up to the elbow.

"The other would have talked more, but Michielkin did what he had said: he gave him two great blows on the jaw and dragged him by the teeth, with which he was biting, out on to the road, where he left him battered and bruised, without pity.

"Pieter de Roose, being healed, and unable to live a solitary life, went in 't Vagevuur, a veritable purgatory and a gloomy tavern, where there were none but poor people. There also he was left to himself, even by all those ragamuffins. And no man spoke to him, save a few country folk to whom he was unknown, and a few wandering rogues, or deserters from some troop or other. He was even beaten there several times, for he was quarrelsome.

"The provost Spelle had come to Meulestee with two catchpolls, and Pieter de Roose followed them everywhere about like a dog, filling them up at his expense with wine, with meat, and many other pleasures that are bought with money. And so he became their companion and their comrade, and he began to do his wicked best to torment all he hated; which was all the inhabitants of Meulestee, but especially my poor brother.

"First of all he attacked Michielkin. False witnesses, gallows birds, greedy for florins, declared that Michielkin was a heretic, had uttered foulness about Notre Dame, and oftentimes blasphemed the name of God and the saints in the tavern of the Falcon, and that, besides all, he had full three hundred florins in a coffer.

"Notwithstanding that the witnesses were not of good life and conduct, Michielkin was arrested, and the proofs being declared by Spelle and the catchpolls good and sufficient to warrant putting the accused to the torture, Michielkin was hung up by the arms to a pulley fastened to the ceiling, and they put a weight of fifty pounds on each of his feet.

"He denied the charge, saying that if in Meulestee there was a rogue, a blackguard, a blasphemer and a lecherous brute, it was no other than Pieter de Roose, and not he.

"But Spelle would listen to nothing, and bade his catchpolls hoist Michielkin right up to the ceiling, and to let him drop heavily with his weights on his feet. And this they did, and so cruelly that the skin and the muscles of the victim were torn, and that the foot scarcely held to the leg.

"As Michielkin persisted in saying he was innocent, Spelle had him tortured afresh, while giving him to understand that if he would give him a hundred florins he would leave him free and acquitted.

"Michielkin said that he would die first.

"The folk of Meulestee, having learned the fact of the arrest and the torture, desired to be witness par turbes, which is the testimony of all the reputable inhabitants of a commune. 'Michielkin,' said they, unanimously, 'is in no way or guise heretical; he goes every Sunday to mass and to the holy table; he has never said anything else of Our Lady than to call on her to succour him in difficult circumstances; having never spoken ill, even of an earthly woman, he would much less ever have dared to speak ill of the heavenly Mother of God. As for the blasphemies that the false witnesses declared they had heard him utter in the tavern of the Falcon, that was in all points false and lies.'

"Michielkin having been released, the false witnesses were punished, and Spelle cited Pieter de Roose before his court, but set him free without examination or torture, in consideration of one hundred florins paid down in one sum.

"Pieter de Roose, fearing that the money he still had left might attract Spelle's attention to him once again, fled from Meulestee, while Michielkin, my poor brother, died of the gangrene that had caught hold of his feet.

"He who no longer wished to see me, yet had me sent for to bid me beware well of the fire in my body that would bring me into the fire of hell. And I could but weep, for the fire is within me. And he gave up his soul in my arms."

"Ha!" said she, "he who would avenge upon Spelle the death of my beloved kind Michielkin would be my master forever, and I would obey him like a dog."

While she spake, the ashes of Claes beat upon the breast of Ulenspiegel. And he determined to bring Spelle the murderer to the gallows.

Boelkin (that was the girl's name) returned to Meulestee, well assured in her home against the vengeance of Pieter de Roose, for a cattle dealer, passing by Destelberg, informed her that the curé and the townsfolk had declared that if Spelle touched Michielkin's sister, they would cite him before the duke.

Ulenspiegel, having followed her to Meulestee, came into a low chamber in Michielkin's house, and saw there a portrait of a master pastry cook which he supposed to be that of the poor victim....

And Boelkin said to him:

"It is my brother's portrait."

Ulenspiegel took the picture and said, going away:

"Spelle shall be hanged!"

"What will you do?" said she.

"If you knew that," said he, "you would have no pleasure in seeing it done."

Boelkin nodded her head and said in a grieving voice:

"You show no confidence in me."

"Is it not," said he, "showing you extreme confidence to say to you 'Spelle shall be hanged!' For with this mere word alone you can have me hanged before him."

"That is true," said she.

"Then," said Ulenspiegel, "go fetch me good potter's clay, a double quart of bruinbier, clear water, and a few slices of beef. All separate."

"The beef will be for me, the bruinbier for the beef, the water for the clay, and the clay for the portrait."

Eating and drinking Ulenspiegel kneaded the clay, and now and then swallowed a morsel of it, but heeded it little, and looked most attentively at Michielkin's portrait. When the clay was kneaded, he made a mask out of it, with a nose, a mouth, eyes, ears so much like the portrait of the dead man, that Boelkin was astonied at it.

After that he put the mask in the oven, and when it was dry, he painted it the colour corpses are, showing the haggard eyes, the solemn face, and the various contractions of a man in the act of dying. Then the girl, ceasing to be astonied, looked at the mask, without being able to take her eyes off it, grew pale and livid, covered up her face, and said shuddering:

"It is he, my poor Michielkin!"

He made also two bloody feet.

Then having conquered her first fright:

"Blessed will he be," said she, "that will slay the murderer." Ulenspiegel, taking the mask and the feet, said:

"I must have an assistant."

Boelkin replied:

"Go in den Blauwe Gans, to the Blue Goose, to Joos Lansaem of Ypres, who keeps this tavern. He was my brother's best friend and comrade. Tell him it is Boelkin that sends you."

Ulenspiegel did as she bade him.

After having laboured for death, the provost Spelle went to drink in't Valck, at the Falcon, a hot mixture of dobbel-clauwert, with cinnamon and Madeira sugar. They dared refuse him nothing at his inn, for fear of the rope.

Pieter de Roose, having plucked up courage again, had come back to Meulestee. Everywhere he followed Spelle and his catchpolls to have their protection. Sometimes Spelle paid the wherewithal for him to drink. And they drank up merrily the money of the victims.

The inn of the Falcon was not filled now as in the good days when the village lived joyously, serving God after the Catholic fashion; and not tormented because of religion. Now it was as though in mourning, as could be seen from its numerous houses that were empty or shut up, from its deserted streets in which there wandered a few starved dogs searching among the rubbish heaps for their rotten food.

There was no place now in Meulestee for any but the two evil and cruel men. The timid dwellers in the village saw them by day insolent and noting the houses of future victims, drawing up the lists of death; and by night venturing from the Falcon singing filthy choruses, while two catchpolls, drunk like them, followed them armed to the teeth to be their escort.

Ulenspiegel went in den Blauwe Gans, to the Blue Goose, to Joos Lansaem, who was at the bar.

Ulenspiegel took from his pocket a little flask of brandy, and said to him:

"Boelkin has two casks for sale."

"Come into my kitchen," said the baes.

There, shutting the door, and looking fixedly at him:

"You are no brandy merchant; what do these winkings of your eyes mean? Who are you?"

Ulenspiegel replied:

"I am the son of Claes that was burned at Damme; the ashes of the dead man beat upon my breast; I would fain kill Spelle, the murderer."

"It is Boelkin who sends you?" asked the host.

"Boelkin sends me," replied Ulenspiegel. "I will kill Spelle; you shall help me in it."

"I will," said the baes. "What must I do?"

Ulenspiegel replied:

"Go to the curé, the good pastor, an enemy to Spelle. Assemble your friends together and be with them to-morrow, after the curfew, on the Everghem road, above Spelle's house, between the Falcon and the house aforesaid. All post yourselves in the shadows and have no white on your clothes. At the stroke of ten you will see Spelle coming out from the tavern and a wagon coming from the other side.

"Do not tell your friends to-night; they sleep too near to their wives' ears. Go and find them to-morrow. Come, now, listen to everything closely and remember well."

"We shall remember," said Joos. And raising his goblet: "I drink to Spelle's halter."

"To the halter," said Ulenspiegel. Then he went back with the baes into the tavern chamber where there sate drinking certain old clothes merchants of Ghent who were coming back from the Saturday market at Bruges, where they had sold for high prices doublets and short mantles of cloth of gold and silver bought for a few sous from ruined nobles who desired by their luxury and splendour to imitate the Spaniards.

And they kept revels and feasting because of their big profits.

Ulenspiegel and Joos Lansaem, sitting in a corner, as they drank, and without being heard, agreed that Joos should go to the curé of the church, a good pastor, incensed against Spelle, the murderer of innocent men. After that he would go to his friends.

On the morrow, Joos Lansaem and Michielkin's friends, having been forewarned, left the Blauwe Gans, where they had their pints as usual, and so as to conceal their plans went off at curfew by different ways, and came to the Everghem causeway. They were seventeen in number.

At ten o'clock Spelle left the Falcon, followed by his two catchpolls and Pieter de Roose. Lansaem and his troop were hidden in the barn belonging to Samson Boene, a friend of Michielkin. The door of the barn was open. Spelle never saw them.

They heard him pass by, staggering with drink like Pieter de Roose and his two catchpolls also, and saying, in a thick voice and with many hiccups:

"Provosts! provosts! life is good to them in this world; hold me up, gallows birds that live on my leavings!"

Suddenly were heard upon the road, from the direction of the open country, the braying of an ass and the crack of a whip.

"There is a restive donkey indeed," said Spelle, "that won't go on in spite of that good warning."

Suddenly they heard a great noise of wheels and a cart leaping along and coming down the middle of the road.

"Stop it!" cried Spelle.

As the cart passed beside them, Spelle and his two catchpolls threw themselves on the donkey's head.

"This cart is empty," said one of the catchpolls.

"Lubber," said Spelle, "do empty carts gallop about by night all alone? There is somebody in this cart a-hiding; light the lanterns, hold them up, I am going to look in it."

The lanterns were lighted and Spelle climbed up on the cart, holding his own lamp; but scarcely had he looked than he uttered a great cry, and falling back, said:

"Michielkin! Michielkin! Jesu! have pity upon me!"

Then there rose up from the floor of the cart a man clad in white as pastry cooks are and holding in his hands two bloody feet.

Pieter de Roose, seeing the man stand up, illuminated by the lanterns, cried with the two catchpolls:

"Michielkin! Michielkin, the dead man! Lord have pity upon us!"

The seventeen came at the noise to look at the spectacle and were affrighted to see in the light of the clear moon how like was the image of Michielkin, the poor deceased.

And the ghost waved his bleeding feet.

It was his same full round visage, but pale through death, threatening, livid, and eaten under the chin by worms.

The ghost, still waving his bleeding feet, said to Spelle, who was groaning, lying flat on his back:

"Spelle, Provost Spelle, awake!"

But Spelle never moved.

"Spelle," said the ghost again, "Provost Spelle, awake or I fetch thee down with me into the mouth of gaping hell."

Spelle got up, and with his hair straight up for terror, cried lamentably:

"Michielkin! Michielkin, have pity!"

Meanwhile, the townsfolk had come up, but Spelle saw nothing save the lanterns, which he took for the eyes of devils. He confessed as much later.

"Spelle," said the ghost of Michielkin, "art thou prepared to die?"

"Nay," replied the provost, "nay, Messire Michielkin; I am nowise prepared for it, and I would not appear before God with my soul all black with sin."

"Dost thou know me?" said the ghost.

"May God be my helper," said Spelle, "yea, I know thee; thou art the ghost of Michielkin, the pastry cook, who died, innocently in his bed, of the after effects of torture, and the two bleeding feet are those upon each of which I had a weight of fifty pounds hung. Ha! Michielkin, forgive me, this Pieter de Roose was so strong a tempter; he offered me fifty florins, which I accepted, to put thy name on the list."

"Dost thou desire to confess thyself?" said the ghost.

"Aye, Messire, I desire to confess myself, to tell all and do penance. But deign to send away these demons that are there, ready to devour me. I will tell all. Take away those fiery eyes! I did the same thing at Tournay, with respect to five townsmen; the same at Bruges, with four. I no longer know their names, but I will tell them you if you insist; elsewhere, too, I have sinned, lord, and of my doing there are nine and sixty innocents in the grave. Michielkin, the king needed money. I had been informed of that, but I needed money even likewise; it is at Ghent, in the cellar, under the pavement, in the house of old Grovels my real mother. I have told all, all: grace and mercy! Take away the devils. Lord God, Virgin Mary, Jesus, intercede for me: save me from the fires of hell, I will sell all I have, I will give everything to the poor, and I will do penance."

Ulenspiegel, seeing that the crowd of the townsmen was ready to uphold him, leapt from the cart at Spelle's throat and would have strangled him.

But the curé came up.

"Let him live," said he; "it is better that he should die by the executioner's rope than by the fingers of a ghost."

"What are you going to do with him?" asked Ulenspiegel.

"Accuse him before the duke and have him hanged," replied the curé. "But who art thou?" asked he.

"I," replied Ulenspiegel, "am the mask of Michielkin and the person of a poor Flemish fox who is going back into his earth for fear of the Spanish hunters."

In the meantime, Pieter de Roose was running away at full speed.

And Spelle having been hanged, his goods were confiscated.

And the king inherited.

XXXIII

The next day Ulenspiegel went towards Courtray, going alongside the Lys, the clear river.

Lamme went pitifully along.

Ulenspiegel said to him:

"You whine, cowardly heart, regretting the wife that made you wear the horned crown of cuckoldom."

"My son," said Lamme, "she was always faithful, loving me enough as I loved her over well, sweet Jesus. One day, being gone to Bruges, she came back thence changed. From then, when I prayed her of love, she would say to me:

"'I must live with you as a friend, and not otherwise.'

"Then, sad in my heart:

"'Beloved darling,' I would say, 'we were married before God. Did I not for you everything you ever wished? Did not I many a time clothe myself with a doublet of black linen and a fustian cloak that I might see you clad in silk and brocade despite the royal ordinances? Darling, will you never love me again?'

"'I love thee,' she would say, 'according to God and His laws, according to holy discipline and penance. Yet I shall be a virtuous companion to thee.'

"'I care naught for thy virtue,' I replied, ''tis thou I want, thou, my wife.'

"Nodding her head:

"'I know thou art good,' she said; 'until to-day thou wast cook in the house to spare me the labour of fricassees; thou didst iron our blankets, ruffs, and shirts, the irons being too heavy for me; thou didst wash our linen, thou didst sweep the house and the street before the door, so as to spare me all fatigue. Now I desire to work instead of you, but nothing more, husband.'

"'That is all one to me,' I replied; 'I will be, as in the past, thy tiring maid, thy laundress, thy cook, thy washwoman, thy slave, thy very own, submissive; but wife, sever not these two hearts and bodies that make but one; break not that soft bond of love that clasped us so tenderly together.'

"'I must,' she replied.

"'Alas!' I would say, 'was it at Bruges that thou didst come to this harsh resolve?'

"She replied:

"'I have sworn before God and His saints.'

"'Who, then,' I cried, 'forced thee to take an oath not to fulfil your duties as a wife?'

"'He that hath the spirit of God, and ranks me among the number of his penitents,' said she.

"From that moment she ceased to be mine as much as if she had been the faithful wife of another man. I implored her, tormented her, threatened her, wept, begged, but in vain. One night, coming back from Blanckenberghe, where I had been to receive the rent of one of my farms, I found the house empty. Without doubt fatigued with my entreaties, grieved and sad at my distress, my wife had taken flight. Where is she now?"

And Lamme sat down on the bank of the Lys, hanging his head and looking at the water.

"Ah!" said he, "my dear, how plump, tender, and delicious thou wast! Shall I ever find a lass like thee? Daily bread of love, shall I never eat of thee again? Where are thy kisses, as full of fragrance as thyme; thy delicious mouth whence I gathered pleasure as the bee gathers the honey from the rose; thy white arms that wrapped me round caressing? Where is thy beating heart, thy round bosom, and the sweet shudder of thy fairy body all panting with love? But where are thy old waves, cool river that rollest so joyously thy new waves in the sunshine?"

XXXIV

Passing before the wood of Peteghem, Lamme said to Ulenspiegel:

"I am roasting hot; let us seek the shade."

"Let us," replied Ulenspiegel.

They sat down in the wood, upon the grass, and saw a herd of stags pass in front of them.

"Look well, Lamme," said Ulenspiegel, priming his German musket. "There are the tall old stags that still have their dowcets, and carry proud and stately their nine-point antlers; lovely brockets, that are their squires, trot by their side, ready to do them service with their pointed horns. They are going to their lair. Turn the musket lock as I do. Fire! The old stag is wounded. A brocket is hit in the thigh; he is in flight. Let us follow him till he falls. Do as I do: run, jump, and fly."

"There is my mad friend," said Lamme, "following stags on foot. Fly not without wings; it is labour lost. You will never catch them. Oh! the cruel comrade! Do you imagine I am as agile as you? I sweat, my son; I sweat and I am going to fall. If the ranger catches you, you will be hanged. Stag is kings' game; let them run, my son, you will never catch them."

"Come," said Ulenspiegel, "do you hear the noise of his antlers in the foliage? It is a water spout passing. Do you see the young branches broken, the leaves strewing the ground? He has another bullet in his thigh this time; we will eat him."

"He is not cooked yet," said Lamme. "Let these poor beasts run. Ah! how hot it is! I am going to fall down there without doubt and I shall never rise again."

Suddenly, on all sides, men clad in rags and armed filled the forest. Dogs bayed and dashed in pursuit of the stags. Four fierce fellows surrounded Lamme and Ulenspiegel and brought them into a clearing, in the middle of a brake, where they saw encamped there, among women and children, men in great numbers, armed diversely with swords, arbalests, arquebuses, lances, pikestaff, and reiter's pistols.

Ulenspiegel, seeing them, said to them:

"Are ye the leafmen or Brothers of the Woods, that ye seem to live here in common to flee the persecution?"

"We are Brothers of the Woods," replied an old man sitting beside the fire and frying some birds in a saucepan. "But who art thou?"

"I," replied Ulenspiegel, "am of the goodly country of Flanders, a painter, a rustic, a noble, a sculptor, all together. And through the world in this wise I journey, praising things lovely and good and mocking loudly at all stupidity."

"If thou hast seen so many countries," said the ancient man, "thou canst pronounce: Schild ende Vriendt, buckler and friend, in the fashion of Ghent folk; if not, thou art a counterfeit Fleming and thou shalt die."

Ulenspiegel pronounced: Schild ende Vriendt.

"And thou, big belly," asked the ancient man, speaking to Lamme, "what is thy trade?"

Lamme replied:

"To eat and drink my lands, farms, fees, and revenues, to seek for my wife, and to follow in all places my friend Ulenspiegel."

"If thou hast travelled so much," said the old man, "thou art not without knowledge of how they call the folk of Weert in Limbourg."

"I do not know it," replied Lamme; "but would you not tell me the name of the scandalous vagabond who drove my wife from her home? Give it to me; I will go and slay him straightway."

The ancient man made answer:

"There are two things in this world which never return once having taken flight: they are money spent and a woman grown tired and run away."

Then speaking to Ulenspiegel:

"Dost thou know," said he, "how they call the men of Weert in Limbourg?"

"De reakstekers, the exorcisers of skates," replied Ulenspiegel, "for one day a live ray having fallen from a fishmonger's cart, old women seeing it leap about took it for the devil. 'Let us go fetch the curé to exorcise the skate,' said they. The curé exorcised it, and carrying it off with him, made a noble fricassee in honour of the folk of Weert. Thus may God do with the bloody king."

Meanwhile, the barking of the dogs reëchoed in the forest. The armed men, running in the wood, were shouting to frighten the beast.

"'Tis the stag and the brocket I put up," said Ulenspiegel.

"We shall eat him," said the old man. "But how do they call the folk of Eindhoven in Limbourg?"

"De pinnemakers, boltmakers," replied Ulenspiegel. "One day the enemy was at the gate of their city; they bolted it with a carrot. The geese came and ate the carrot with great pecks of their greedy beaks, and the enemies came into Eindhoven. But it will be iron beaks that will eat the bolts of the prisons wherein they seek to lock up freedom of conscience."

"If God be with us, who shall be against us?" replied the ancient man.

Ulenspiegel said:

"Dogs baying, men shouting, branches broken; 'tis a storm in the forest."

"Is it good meat, stag meat?" asked Lamme, looking at the fricassees.

"The cries of the trackers come nearer," said Ulenspiegel to Lamme; "the dogs are close at hand. What thunder! The stag! the stag! take care, my son. Fie! the foul beast; he has flung my big friend down to the earth in the midst of the pans, saucepans, cooking pots, boilers, and fricassees. There are the women and girls fleeing daft with fright. You are bleeding, my son?"

"You are laughing, scoundrel," said Lamme. "Aye, I am bleeding; he hath landed his antlers in my seat. There, see my breeches torn, and my flesh, too, and all those lovely fricassees on the ground. There, I am losing all my blood down my hose."

"This stag is a foresighted surgeon; he is saving you from an apoplexy," replied Ulenspiegel.

"Fie! rascal without a heart," said Lamme. "But I will follow you no more. I will stay here in the midst of these good fellows and these good women. Can you, without any shame, be so hardhearted to my woes, when I walk at your heels like a dog, through snow, frost, rain, hail, wind, and when it is hot weather, sweating my very soul out through my skin?"

"Your wound is nothing. Clap an olie-koekje on it; that will be both plaster and fry to it," answered Ulenspiegel. "But do you know how they call the folk of Louvain? You do not know it, poor friend. Well, then, I am about to tell you to keep you from whimpering. They call them de koeye-schieters, cow shooters, for they were one day silly enough to fire on cows, which they took for enemy soldiers. As for us, we fire on Spanish goats; their flesh is stinking stuff, but their skin is good to make drums withal. And the folk of Tirlemont? Do you know it? Not that, either. They carry the proud nickname of kirekers. For in their town, in the great church, on Whit Sunday, a drake flies from the rood-loft altar, and that is the image of their Holy Ghost. Put a koeke-bakke on your wound. You pick up without a word the cooking pots and fricassees overturned by the stag. 'Tis kitchen courage. You relight the fire, and set up the soup pot again upon its three stakes; you are busying yourself very attentively with the cooking. Do you know why there are four wonders in Louvain? No. I will tell you why. In the first place, because the living there pass underneath the dead, for the church of Saint-Michel is built close to the gate of the town. Its graveyard is therefore above. Secondly, because the bells there are outside the towers, as is seen at the church of Saint-Jacques, where there is a great bell and a little bell; being unable to place the little one inside the bell tower, they placed it outside. Thirdly, because of the Tower-without-Nails, because the spire of the church of Saint-Gertrude is made of stone instead of being made of wood, and because men do not nail stones, except the bloody king's heart which I would fain nail above the great gate of Brussels. But you are not listening to me. Is there no salt in the sauces? Do you know why the folk of Tirlemont call themselves warming pans, de vierpannen? Because a young prince being come in winter to sleep at the inn of the Arms of Flanders, the innkeeper did not know how to air the blankets, for he had no warming pan. He had the bed aired by his daughter, who, hearing the prince coming, made off running, and the prince asked why they had not left the warming pan in the bed. May God bring it about that Philip, shut in a box of red-hot iron, may serve as warming pan in the bed of Madame Astarte."

"Leave me in peace," said Lamme; "a fig for you, your vierpannen, the Tower-without-Nails, and the rest of your nonsense. Leave me to my sauces."

"Beware," said Ulenspiegel. "The barkings cease not to reëcho; they become louder; the dogs are roaring, the bugle is sounding. Beware of the stag. You are taking flight! The bugle sounds."

"It is the death quarry," said the old man, "come back, Lamme, to your fricassees, the stag is dead."

"It will be a good meal for us," said Lamme. "You will invite me to the feast, because of the trouble I am taking for you. The sauce for the birds will be good: it crunches a little, however. That is the sand on which they fell when that big devil of a stag tore my doublet and me all together. But are you not afraid of the foresters?"

"We are too numerous," said the old man; "they are afraid and do not disturb us. It is even the same with the catchpolls and the judges. The inhabitants of the towns love us, for we do no harm to any man. We shall live some time longer in peace, unless the Spanish army surrounds us. If that happens, old men and young men, women, girls, lads, and lasses, we will sell our lives dear, and we will kill one another rather than endure a thousand martyrdoms at the hands of the bloody duke."

Ulenspiegel said:

"It is now no longer the time to combat the murderer by land. It is on the sea that we must ruin his power. Go to the Zealand Islands, by way of Bruges, Heyst, and Knoeke."

"We have no money," said they.

Ulenspiegel replied:

"Here are a thousand carolus from the prince. Follow along the waterways, canals, rivers, and streams; when you see ships carrying the sign 'J. H. S.,' let one of you sing like a lark. The clarion of the cock will answer him. And you will be in friends' country."

"We will do this," said they.

Soon the hunters, followed by the dogs, appeared, pulling after them the dead stag with ropes.

Then all sate down round about the fire. There were full sixty, men, women, and children. Bread was pulled out from satchels, knives from their sheaths; the stag, cut up, stripped, disembowelled, was put on the spit with small game. And at the end of the meal Lamme was seen snoring with his head drooped on his breast and sleeping propped against a tree.

At nightfall, the Brothers of the Wood went back into huts constructed underground to sleep, and Lamme and Ulenspiegel did the same.

Armed men kept watch, guarding the camp. And Ulenspiegel heard the dry leaves protest under their feet.

The next day he departed with Lamme, while the men of the camp said:

"Blessed be thou; we will make towards the sea."

XXXV

At Harlebek, Lamme renewed his stock of olie-koekjes, ate twenty-seven and put thirty in his basket. Ulenspiegel carried his cages in his hand. Towards evening they arrived in Courtray and stopped at the inn of in de Bie, the Bee, with Gilis van den Ende, who came to his door as soon as he heard someone sing like the lark.

There it was all sugar and honey with them. The host having seen the prince's letters, handed fifty carolus to Ulenspiegel for the prince, and would take no payment for the turkey he served them, nor for the dobbel-clauwert with which he washed it down. He warned them, too, that there were at Courtray spies of the Court of Blood, for which cause he ought to well keep his tongue as well as his companion's.

"We shall reconnoitre then," said Ulenspiegel and Lamme.

And they went out from the inn.

The sun was setting, gilding the gables of the houses; the birds were singing under the lime trees; the goodwives gossiped on the thresholds of their doors; the children rolled and tumbled about in the dust, and Ulenspiegel and Lamme wandered haphazard through the streets.

Suddenly Lamme said:

"Martin van den Ende, asked by me if he had seen a woman like my wife--I drew him my pretty portrait,--told me that there were at the house of the woman Stevenyne, on the Bruges road, at the Rainbow, outside the town, a great number of women who gather there every evening. I am going there straightway."

"I shall find you again presently," said Ulenspiegel. "I wish to pay the town a visit; if I meet your wife I will presently send her to you. You know that the baes has enjoined on you to be silent, if you have any regard for your skin."

As Ulenspiegel wandered at his will, the sun went down, and the day falling swiftly, he arrived in the Pierpot-Straetje, which is the lane of the Stone Pot. There he heard the viol played upon melodiously; drawing near he saw from afar a white shape calling him, gliding away from him and playing on the viol. And it sang like a seraph a sweet slow song, stopping, turning back, still calling him and fleeing from him.

But Ulenspiegel ran swiftly; he overtook her and was about to speak to her when she laid on his mouth a hand perfumed with benjamin.

"Art thou a rustic or a nobleman?" said she.

"I am Ulenspiegel."

"Art thou rich?"

"Enough to pay for a great pleasure, not enough to ransom my soul."

"Hast thou no horses, that thou goest afoot?"

"I had an ass," said Ulenspiegel, "but I left him in the stable."

"How is it thou art alone, without a friend, in a strange city?"

"Because my friend is wandering on his own side, as I am on mine, my curious darling."

"I am not curious," said she. "Is he rich, your friend?"

"In fat," said Ulenspiegel. "Will you soon have finished questioning me?"

"I have done," said she, "now leave me."

"Leave you?" he said; "as well bid Lamme, when he is hungry, leave a dish of ortolans. I want to eat you."

"You have not seen me," she said. And she opened a lantern which shone out suddenly, lighting up her face.

"You are beautiful," said Ulenspiegel. "Ho! the golden skin, the sweet eyes, the red mouth, the darling body! All will be for me."

"All," she said.